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gashousegables · 2 years

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Hello! So I saw that post you made a few days ago answering an ask about your twilight headcanons and may I ask for some too? But specifically about your highschool au. I love the fact that you made Alice trans and Jasper with his nails painted! I would absolutely love read some ""behind the scenes"" of them :))

Awwwww :)) You liked DITS!!! My first foray into twilight fanfiction after a decade away!!!! This became a long, rambling tangent so bear with me

Thaaank you :)) You didn't ask for this but I'm feeling like a yarn:

For me, DITS was just about exploring how I could shape the Cullens the way I wanted them, mostly because I was retroactively unhappy about the media I consumed as a teenager being so hegemonic.

Because vampires have always been about 'The Other' yknow? The fringes, the outside of culture. To me, in core vampire media it emphasizes aversion to danger, a threat to human normalcy. For twi-hards, the allure might be more in it's secrecy and the feeling of exclusivity.

And that's also what popularity is, so I thought it'd be fun.

But I was also starving for media that was More Gender, and I was at a stage in my life where I wanted something familiar, that my then-current stage of sexual and gender identity wasn't. It was new, it felt painfully secretive, it was embarrassing to be so invested. So I just did DITS and it's also why I will probably never go back to it. I've managed to grow since then, phew!

But if they had continued, I think they were suburban enough to persue college;

Academically, Emmett would have a 'C's get degrees' mindset, and I'm not sure he would manage to finish a degree. But if he flunked out he would have just worked, because you don't need a uni education to make a living. He ends up doing hostel work around the world - backpacking around and doing odd jobs. He falls in love with traveling, discovering new things and new places.

He's got a knack for languages, not because he is particularly good at them, but he's earnest and he tries, and he's confident enough in his skills in charades and the kindness of locals when encountering a lost tourist that it usually sees him through (unless he's in France) He starts a travel blog, with some short video films, to keep his friends n family updated.

THE HEADCANONS, AFTER THE EPILOGUE:

Edward does a bachelors, probably a Masters, probably does the broke orchestra, starving artist grind. (He and Jake don't last, they're drift until they realise there might not even be friendship between them.) He ends up getting a position in a sound production company, and got a couple gigs composing soundtracks.

Jake ends up getting a scholarship for creative writing. He found his niche in poetry focusing on his position as a non-straight first nations man. He gets published in his college journal first. He meets literati of the academic set. He fits in. He ends up becoming a college professor.

Bella studies journalism, she wants truth and she wants honesty. She ends up reviewing movies on her local paper. She goes viral on the internet for shitting over a few high-profile trash-heaps and gets a Rodger Ebert-level of respect, jk she's a woman so she gets an incel hatetrain and has to leave social media. But she stays a popular critic, with therapy and processes to deal with trolls n doxxing. Despite it all, she likes it.

Jasper doesn't bother with college, he gets a job as a gopher on movie sets, he finds that he's handy enough with some shitty opensource software to start editing equally shitty student films.

Alice pursues fashion design. She goes long-distance with Jasper, when he moves to LA. After she graduates, she ends up having Emmett come with her to her mother's home country. They do touristy things and they catch up after about 5-8 years of not seeing each other.

Rosalie ... drifts. She finishes college, get an office job, but her dad dies soon after she graduates. She doesn't take it well, but her mother takes it worse. (Her little brother Kenny ends up moving in with their paternal grandparents to finish high school, his own choice.)

She and Emmett travel down to Brazil after her graduation, to visit her maternal grandmother. But it's an awkward 2 weeks, and after they get back they have one of those heart-wrenching, sobbing break-ups that wounds both of them. She calls him 'the one who got away' but mostly because it annoys Edward. She and Edward end up living together for a spell, and they are both, to their chagrin, the best roommates each of them ever have.

Carlisle and Esme get together. Carlisle waits until he's officially an empty-nester, after the kids graduate high-school, to have her move in with him. It's a wonderfully ordinary wedding, one of the last times all the gang see each other.

Maybe a decade passes ... maybe more.

They meet again mostly by accident.

In his long and varied career, Emmett becomes assistant director on an arthouse film by some european company. The title of the movie is a poem that inspired the script. A poem by one Jacob Black.

Alice designed and made the costumes, but she was too removed from the project to know who else was involved. Except Jasper, who edits the film, since they'd eloped after they missed each other too much to be apart.

Edward scores the music, and he meets Emmett almost be accident during the recording of the score.

Rosalie is the main girl. Emmett had known exactly where a weird broke project could get a drop-dead gorgeous hard-boiled blonde. It's the first favor he'd asked of her since a ride to the airport after he let his American driver's license expire.

Bella reviews it with the relish of knowing exactly where everyone was. Maybe she wasn't the kindest to the movie itself, but her playful joy at naming each person involved almost made it glow.

They don't all attend the premiere, but they all end up seeing Bella's review, and seeing several familiar names, they end up converging onto Carlisle's house after years away.

It's not as though they all become famous in the entertainment industry, only Edward, Bella, Alice and Jasper continue to pursue any creative industry at all, but it's a moment where everything fell into place, and their connection were forged anew.

#dancing in the street #asks #anonymous #twilight fanfic #headcanons #THANK YOU SO MUCH ANON #YOU DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS WORD VOMIT BUT YOU GOT IT ANYWAY

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minerviewrites · 3 years

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Jujutsu Kaisen with an affectionate s/o :]

Sfw, very fluffy hcs :))

Warnings: distrust mentioned in Sukuna's part, PDA, lack of affection

❋ —————————————— ❋

Itadori- Loves the affection! He's a very clingy guy, so having you reciprocate AND give it back?? It's literally his dream come true. Most days are spent with you two clinging to each other while Nobara and Megumi look on in judgement (they're just jealous)

Nobara- Shows you off BIG TIME. This girl lives for your praise and affection, so she'll do your hair, makeup, or just skin care routine to show she cares for you. Nobara is very appreciative of your normalcy, and gives back the affection any time she can; usually when you two get back to the dorms and can snuggle alone

Megumi- Not so secretly soft for you. He doesn't like PDA much, but he won't mind if you link pinkies or hold his hand in a show of affection. It makes Megumi feel very secure, and it helps him calm down after nightmares or from a rough battle. He tries not to show it, but he's often blushing when you hug or kiss him (Nobara and Itadori won't let that go)

Maki- Tsundere type girl. She tries to push you away at first, but after a while she'll just hug you back and blush. Her favorite way to pay you back for all the affection is words of affirmation; so enough though she might not hug back, she always make sure you know she loves you. Will go out of her way to get things you like, without you even asking

Toge- Tries his hardest to communicate with you despite his cursed speech. Sometimes he gets super frustrated with himself, so having a s/o that's there to help him, and is positive, is a really big help for him. Having someone he can just hug when he feels bad or to share his happiness is an amazing thing to him. Soft boy for you

Gojo- As affectionate man himself, he appreciates your actions! He clings to you all day long, and if you cling to him as well? Phew, his heart is so full. He loves to show you off to his classes, especially the Megumi, and having a stable, loving relationship for once means a lot to him. Expect to be carried everywhere, no matter how much you weigh. This man adores you

Toji- He's not used to it, but he doesn't dislike it. Affection is something he's always craved, and having someone who is able to give it to him in a healthy way is great. He might not reciprocate some of your affection, but he'll bring you gifts instead! Toji's favorite thing to bring you is games that you like, so you both can play together when he gets time off work

Nanami- Usually very stoic; but around you, he softens up considerably. He's very fond of hugs, especially those that come from someone so close and meaningful to him. Nanami will bring home anything you want; your one of the rare people he would do overtime for without a second thought. His favorite thing to do is laying down with you on top of him after work, and watching whatever program is on at the moment; it's a very soft and tender moment

Choso- He lives for you and your praise. Choso isn't afraid to walk up to you with his arms spread and demand hugs, even if you're in the middle of a meeting. He doesn't understand the concept of embarrassment, so he's big for PDA if you like it. Never wants to make you uncomfortable though, so he'll mostly leave the advances up to you! Please pet his hair though, he loves having it down around you; tempting you to play with the soft strands

Getou- Holds your hand constantly and let's you borrow his robes. It might not seem like a big thing, but he isn't very affectionate person. Getou adores you to the MAX, so seeing you with his clothes on and hugging his arm closely MELTS his heart. Let's you put up his hair, and will play with yours all the time if it's long enough

Sukuna- He's very quiet about it, but he secretly is very comfortable with you. Sukuna has never had someone who just loves him unconditionally before, so he might be a little put off by your affection for a while. But after that period is over, he'll let you sit on his lap or hold his hand without a second thought

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chocoenvy · 3 years

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Okay okay phew I finally got to sit down and order something up for your event haha!!!

I would like to order one Choco Bar, one that is freezing cold envy in flavor, with a custom syrup* involving my beloved Playing God/Tongueless Reader;; "it feels like we are all hostages"

*the flavor would be taking place in that same AU but has the concept as End of All. You decide whether reader chooses teyvat or earth or they compromise!

Happy 900 (or you're probably already half way to 1000 so happy early 1000! I hope I did this right snfnkrkng)

An order for the 900+ Follower event

Coming right up!

You want a Choco Bar (Standard short story) with a cold envy flavor (fatui au), a custom syrup. Involving Tongueless reader, you want "it feels like we're all hostages." Got it!

*~Synopsis: Carnage was not a new concept to you, but it wasn't comforting as the weight of destruction and salvation lay on your shoulders.

*~Notes: I GOT SO CARRIED AWAY I FORGOT ABOUT THE "It feels like we're all hostages" I DIDN'T FOCUS ON THAT AT ALL IF YOU'D LIKE ME TO REDO IT FEEL FREE TO JUST ASK AND I'LL DO SO AND THANK YOU FOR THE ORDER I REALLY LOVED WRITING THIS <3333 (also i originally didn't want to choose a path, so I included a cut for where I do choose a path for the reader.)

*~Warnings: Mentions of trauma, cult behaviors, end-of-world(s) scenario, villain/fatui au (reader is a villain)

Gods were not known for benevolence. The whole of Teyvat knew of your cries and you remembered the nights where all you wanted was to go back home

home.

The home that lay in tattered remains before you, you screamed out with a hoarse voice, the inside of your mouth and mind laid to ruins just as these lands you once knew. The streets were desolate and barren though you still knew the name to each one. Where was your family now?

Dead. The reports said.

You broke down crying in the arms of your boss. Like a father you no longer had, he patted your back. He didn't question why you were suddenly so quiet. Shock he assumed.

"Come with me," He gently urged, "We must follow the monsters that laid waste to our land."

You accepted, a sense of normalcy taking over back at your boss' side even with the archons of Teyvat following you. And a sense of clawing anger burying deep in your throat. Your boss did not know of the newfound power you'd found in your chest. The bubbling rage and crushing fist of godhood that laid waste to archons of past and present.

Revenge, was your sweet reward and nectar, the archons knew this oh-so well. You'd achieved it before, and now you wanted more.

The rift opened and you were back to square one, the imposing lands of Teyvat spread before you. The opposite of home, the opposite of love, the place you grew to resent so, the place where your tongue still laid to waste somewhere in the beautiful lands.

The abominations that had so cruelly torn your home from your cold hands were now here. Doing your job of destroying the land you'd presided over for the past two and a half years.

You couldn't help the small twitch upwards of your mouth, content with knowing that the archons beside you were silently writhing in pain and grief. Knowing that

you could stop it.

The exact way you'd felt on the concrete of Liyue with countless people jeering and holding you down as your voice was taken from you. You'd died that day in heart but not body. You carried yourself on for countless months on Tsurumi Island and then Snezhnaya and then the whole Teyvat.

You were not known for benevolence.

They knew they deserved this, the archons didn't even whimper as they watched the amalgamations stretch their disgusting limbs outwards to the carefully crafted lands. Lands that you and your acolytes had so delicately crafted from your own palms.

You were playing god again, choosing between two worlds to save and destroy.

The choice should've been obvious but...

Your eyes flickered over to the Tsaritsa. She was emotionless as always to the rest of the world but to you, you could see the hopelessness starting to creep into her expression. And your Ajax with the ever-growing fighting spirit. If you were to ever see his hopelessness in the heat of battle your plywood heart would catch fire and eat you from the inside out.

The cries of children were loud in your ears. No doubt that you were god as they screamed for you to save them. The children of this world that you thought was a fake. Would they even suffer, after all, if it was just a game?

But real touches and real pain was a bit and bridle to your excuse. Teyvat was as real as it gets, your empty mouth was proof enough of that.

Either way, you are god today. Today, you'd destroy a world. You'd destroy a home.

Because despite everything that you'd endured in Teyvat, you loved it. Two years of living in Teyvat through a screen, loving each and every character you got as though they were your own child. Loving touches, gifts, hours upon hours of grinding, and tears shed with your love for the world you considered a digital home.

All of it would be wiped away by those creatures.

Despite your love for your home, the one you'd spent your childhood in, you felt more love for Teyvat than anything you'd ever felt before. Everything and everyone, every aspect of the god-forsaken gacha game, was heaven to you. Even after you died in mind and spirit, the little rifthounds, hilichurls, abyss mages, lectors, all those that took care of you and loved you even when you were broken. You were more in Teyvat, more important, more happy, more, more, more than you'd ever been in the now wasteland.

The Tsaritsa and harbingers that helped you reclaim your throne that you sat upon even now as the forsaken god. All-powerful, all-knowing, omnipresent, omnipotent, so many titles and names enough for you to be sick of it all. Worshippers groveling at your feet, with slow and light footsteps as you stared upon the wreckages of your homes.

You couldn't go back anymore, you never could. No more dipping your toes into one world while living in the other. Now, you'd have to choose, and choose you would after all

you are not a benevolent god.

You crafted Teyvat with your hands and pieces of stars, and even if it meant what was once your home would lay dead in the cosmos; you'd destroy Teyvat with your own two dirty palms that had indirectly crushed a world you'd said you loved.

Let no one make the mistake of calling you benevolent. You granted Teyvat your presence and watched the archons grovel in gratitude not because of some no name creature from the depths of darker abyss but for your own sick and twisted pleasure of watching the world burn. No, this world was yours. You wove the sky with thread and needle of golden ichor, and you'd be the one to undo your work.

Carefully crafted love torn meticulously apart. Cradling the world in your arms, you cracked the crust and core of the Earth into pieces. Your darling Teyvat laid to waste by your godly wrath and love.

Playing God once more as you loved and hated this world with such brightly burning fervor. So bright you could see what was once one of your homes burning from your throne in the cold arms of the Snezhnaya breeze.

#sagau #genshin cult au #genshin self aware #cult genshin au #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin #sagau villain au #sagau fatui au #fatui au #if you wanna know how it ended #reader just fucking murdered the amalgamation lol #i did this in less than an hour i loved this sm #if it makes you feel better #sneznhaya is still okay :>#tfw you destroy two worlds and not just one haha just gaslight gatekeep and girlbossing

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worldwidebt7 · 3 years

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Hell[L]ing || 05

§ — Pairing: Chimera!Taehyung x Empath!Reader (with mentions of Reader x Other Members)

§ — Genre: SciFi AU, fluff, angst, smut, horror

§ — Wordcount: 2,974

§ — Rating: M § — Warnings: None. Just an awkward AF encounter.

§ — A/N: Gone for so long, but not forgotten! I love this story, and I don't plan on letting it die any time soon~ I need a manager-- I've got way too many projects! Anyone want the job? LOL

Summary: You moved out into the wilderness to live a calm, peaceful life. Your abilities made it impossible to live in crowded places, so even if you wanted to you couldn’t return. But when something happens outside the realm of even your normalcy, you start to think that maybe having everyone else’s emotions bearing down on you isn’t such a bad alternative to being trapped with your own.

You were definitely beginning to question your decision-making skills, or lack thereof. Any sane person would never let a man they met once into their isolated house on a rainy day— it was an exact recipe that stereotypical horror films follow. And you were to be the soon-hunted lead female. Whether or not you get killed milliseconds before the credits started rolling depended on how you treated the situation henceforth.

Standing in your bathroom, you contemplated your options as your fingers ran over the plush fabric of the grey towel you intended to hand to the soaking wet gentleman currently standing in your kitchen. First, you could continue on the path you were currently set on: heading back down the stairs to help the supposedly sick boy dry off and offer him a warm drink. This would most certainly end poorly if your expertise of the genre was anything to go by. Assist the helpless stranger, let his quirky personality charm you, then die. Not preferable.

You could, adversely, call the police or one of your friends to come save you and distract your company until they arrived. This would be the smarter move, though you have your doubts that the situation warrants such a reaction. Besides what your extrasensory abilities allowed you to perceive, your neighbor has done nothing to make you think he holds any ill-will against you. Having him forcibly removed from your home would only certainly sour his opinion of you.

Your last option, from what you could organize from your frayed thoughts, was to expedite option one, in which you dried him off, warmed him up, and sent him on his way before any amount of intimate time passed. You figured that this was the best option, even if it weren’t particularly the safest. You had no reason to suspect the boy of any violence or threat, but he made you inherently uncomfortable either way.

His emotions began to blip at a faster pace— nervousness, worry— were the rate of his emotional markers linked to his heart beat? That was something new. Well, everything dealing with this boy’s emotions was new to you. Taking a deep breath, you turn and leave the bathroom. You suppose your prolonged absence has made your guest begin to panic, and you really didn’t want to have his sporadic emotions to get more intense; you were already feeling the beginnings of a headache.

Scurrying down your wooden stairs, you felt his interest perk at the sound of your footsteps. Anticipation— but gentle anticipation. Warm, welcoming; you almost wanted to hurry to put yourself back in his line of vision, and as you stepped back into the kitchen, you felt the wave of relief that washed over him. His accelerated heartbeat kept the bursts of emotions abrupt, but they were soothed, a welcomed change from the abrasive concern.

His eyes were locked onto your form, taking in every miniscule movement you made. You made sure to avoid his gaze and cleared your throat as you stepped in front of him.

“Here,” You held out the towel for him to take. “You should probably dry yourself off…” He eyed the soft fabric for a moment, a shy gratefulness melding with slight apprehension. You sent him a warm smile when a few moments had passed and nudged the towel towards him a bit. With that, he tentatively reached forward and gently took the cloth from you. You retreated your hand swiftly and as he brought the towel to his chest you sidestepped towards the counter. “I’ll make something warm for you to drink, yeah?”

As you busied yourself, you didn’t see him lift the towel and softly burry his face in it, drying himself. You did, however feel the warm glow of comfort sprout in the air like quickly blooming flowers. With your back turned to him, you didn’t bother hiding the pleased look on your face. Finally— you thought— an emotion from him that didn’t barrage your senses.

With water heating up in your kettle and the packet of cocoa already retrieved from the pantry, you no longer had anything to distract yourself with. In an attempt to make this spontaneous visit less awkward and less unnerving, you turned to make light conversation. To begin, what on earth the sickly boy was doing wandering about in the rain.

“So…” you started, catching his attention immediately, his nerves returning. “Your name is Taehyung, right?” you received a delayed nod. “I’m Y/N. Ah, though you already knew that, right? From last time?” Another nod. Talkative, this one. You supposed you should get straight to your most burning question at the moment. “I gotta ask… I did extend the invitation, but… is there something I can do for you?” He visibly stiffened and the blips of his anxiety sped up with what, you were sure of now, was his increased heart rate. Oh, the headache. Perhaps you should rephrase. “W-what I mean is, since your health is poor, why’d you come over when it was raining of all days?” This seemed to calm him, as the frequency of his beats trickled off.

He didn’t answer you for a long while, opting to look down at the floor in contemplation. You did your best not to stare— you didn’t want to spike his unease once more— but you were finding it difficult to do so, seeing as the wet boy in your kitchen, now that he was up close and personal, was too beautiful to bear. Your previous appraisal of his other-worldly appearance was far too lenient; how could anyone like him possibly exist at all? And his dark hair— curled more from its damp state and hanging further over his obsidian eyes— only seemed to add more depth to the perfection of the features it framed. How utterly unfair it was for someone to be so beautiful.

“I—” you just about jumped at his voice, breaking the silence, but not cutting through it. The melodic depth of it filled the room. “…bad day…” he was pensive with his words— giving you all you needed to know and no more. There was no deception to him, but he was clearly safeguarding information, keeping it locked away.

You gave a thoughtful hum, but you couldn’t hide the shock and confusion you felt. He came to you because he was having a bad day? Someone he didn’t know and only met once before? You couldn’t help but feel this was… odd, for lack of a better term. And he seemed to realize this as well, as his eyes never once met yours. His apprehension was understandable now, and his fear of being turned away— he really had no reason to be here.

Still, your heart warmed at the thought that he had come to you for comfort, as unexpected as it was. And, slowly, the majority of your concerns over the situation began to melt away. Yes, he was a strange boy, yes, there were things about him that were odd and seemed unnatural, but… there was nothing aggressive, or dangerous about his intentions. He seemed more like a child than anything else with how small his large frame looked; like he was trying to curl in on himself.

A sharp whistle pierced the gentle atmosphere and both you and Taehyung jumped nearly out of your skin. You recognized the sound as your kettle quickly after having your nerves fried, but your guest was immediately on the defensive, his fear refusing to subside as he took a pathetic few steps back from the offending object.

“Sorry!” you called out to him and you turned on your heel to remove the kettle from the stove. His confusion was evident, and mixed with the other strong emotions bombarding you, you were almost inclined to say that he’s never heard the shriek of a kettle. The noise subsided as you lifted the item off the heat, turning the burner off in the process. “Phew— that scared me!” At your laughter, his confusion turned into curiosity, and his fear ebbed away.

You emptied the chocolate powder into one of your mugs and promptly drowned it in the hot water from your kettle, the smell of hot chocolate immediately permeating through the air. You se the kettle back down on the stove before stirring the drink, your neighbor’s curiosity only heightening. You turned back to him and beckoned him forward, placing the mug of hot chocolate on the island in front of him in hopes he would sit. When he did nothing, a breathy chuckle escaped you.

“You can sit down if you’d like,” you offered, hoping he would oblige. You realize that this directly opposes your original plan to make this visit as quick as possible, but his uncertainty had found it’s way into your heart. You weren’t sure if it was because he was often ill, but he seemed so unsure of how to interact with other people, like he hasn’t had much social interaction before. It was endearing in a way, and even though there were still some things that concerned you about the readings you got from him, you felt inclined to spend time trying to unravel him.

Or you could simply be suffering from your own solitude.

Either way, you smiled when he slowly made his way over to the counter and seated himself on the stool that the mug sat directly in front of. He still had the towel you had offered him clutched to his chest and seemingly hadn’t dried much more than his face with it. Cautiously, he eyed the mug of steaming liquid.

“Do you not like hot chocolate?” you asked, suddenly aware that it’s possible for people to have different tastes. Or worse, because of his illness he couldn’t drink it at all? “Oh, I’m sorry! Can you even drink hot chocolate? I should have asked before. If there’s something else—”

“No! I—” you blinked, surprised. It was the first time he had spoken so suddenly or with so much conviction. He seemed shocked by his own voice, and immediately receded into himself, almost as if berating himself for his outburst. He chewed on his lower lip, “…I’ve never had it… hot chocolate…” you blinked again.

“Really?” He nodded, and his hand slid forward, reaching for the mug. When you saw his fingers wrap around it, you realized how large his hands were— yet another ridiculously beautiful feature as you couldn’t help but think about how elegant the lines of hands were curved around the dwarfed mug. If he noticed you staring, nothing in his demeanor showed any discomfort at the attention, but you were quick to correct yourself when you became aware of it yourself. “Are you sure you can have it…?” you didn’t want to accidentally poison your neighbor if he was allergic to chocolate. A shake of his head did little to reassure you.

“I’ll drink it,” he said with confidence. He raised the mug, his other hand joining the action as the ceramic was completely eclipsed. It took you a moment to realize that he may not be are of the heat.

“Oh, wait, that’s hot—!” you were too late, and you watched him take a rather large sip from the cup. You blanched, expecting him to burn himself, but he only lowered the mug back to the counter, both hands still firmly encasing it, seemingly unaffected. Huh. Well then, wasn’t that odd?

After a moment of deliberation, excitement burst through the air and Taehyung’s eyes lit up. He quickly took another sip of the drink and from the rush of emotions you knew he was absolutely thrilledby the taste of hot chocolate. You stifled a good-natured laugh, not wanting him to think you were making fun of him, and settled for an endeared smile as you leaned forward to rest against the island counter. Why were you so scared of this boy again?

“I’m going to guess that you like it?” you couldn’t help but tease him a little, and, thankfully, he didn’t seem to take offense; he was far too enraptured by the sweet beverage before him. He nodded happily.

“Thank you,” he said, cheer popping in the air around him, making you want to squeal at his child-like wonder at something so simple. Still, you had to wonder— how is it that he never had hot chocolate before? And if he hadn’t had something so elementary, what else had he not been privy to and why? You suppose you could chalk it up to him being ill often, and if such is the case, he must have been sick for much of his life. You wondered who had been in charge of his health all these years and why they refused him such small pleasures such as hot chocolate, making you again second-guess giving him the cocoa treat. But the pure bliss he exhibited bade you believe that just one cup wouldn’t hurt and that it was surly worth it.

He had been so wrought with nerved when he appeared at your back door that any positive change in his emotions was a welcome one. Perhaps he would leave having a better day than when he came. You could only hope.

“I’m glad you like it,” you said simply before moving on, trying to keep whatever stilted conversation you had going. “I’m surprised you came here if you were having a bad day… did you and Seokjin fight?”

At the mention of his roommate’s name, he stiffened, some of his anxiety returning. You must have hit the nail on the head, because as his fingers fidgeted around the mug he looked off to the side towards the floor. You felt bad immediately, not wanting to sour his mood again.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pry,” you straightened a bit at your mistake, readying to correct yourself if given the opportunity. “If you want to talk about it, um…” What could you offer him, honestly? Why would he divulge the details of his roommate quarrel with you? He barely knew you. Still, he did come to you— as a source of comfort, as a distraction, or as escape, you’ll never know. You did know that you may be his only choice out here in the remote wilderness and so, to an extent, you felt a certain obligation to offer him support. After all, should something happen to you, he and Seokjin were the only ones in miles that could aid you, and you could only hope that they would do so without hesitation.

However, he shook his head, signaling that he didn’t wish to divulge the issue. More mystery then, it seems. You nodded and gave no further attempts to interrogate despite the burning questions that nagged at you, knowing full well about the need to keeps certain things to yourself.

“I…” he began, suddenly standing. Startled, you too took a step back from the counter as well. “I should go…” he placed your towel on the island next to the half-empty mug after a long moment, seemingly disappointed to part with it. Taehyung hesitated, but eventually took a large step away from where he had been seated and began to make his way to the back door.

His sudden, hurried departure had you reeling. You had wanted a brief, eventless encounter, so letting him leave now would probably be for the best. Yet, despite all your concerns, you were still opening your mouth.

“W-wait!” you called after him, stepping out from behind your countertop. He immediately halted in his tracks, shifting slightly so he could see you out of his peripherals. His uncertainty thrummed in the air like drums, making your otherwise silent home ridiculously loud. “The… the rain…” For the first time in the last ten minutes, you peered outside your window, expecting to see the previous torrential downpour. However, to your surprise, it had calmed to a drizzle at some point during your neighbor’s momentary visit. When had that happened?

Sensing that you didn’t have anything else to say to him, Taehyung continued his journey to your glass doors slowly. You watched him with a rock settling into your stomach— this didn’t feel right to you, and as he opened the door, you called out to him again.

“Taehyung,” this time, at the sound of his name leaving your mouth, his head spun around completely, eyes wide and panic vibrating from him. No, not panic; something akin to panic, but not quite so negative. Something warmer… ugh, trying to decipher his emotions was like learning a new language. So, instead of feeding into your present headache, you continued, immediately embarrassed by what you say. “Come back again sometime… we can have lunch.” You felt the heat in your face from your blush and then, unexpectedly, it was as if the very space around you was placed under a heat lamp and Taehyung’s not-panic set your nerves on fire. What the hell was going on?

You didn’t have time to dwell, because as soon as the shocked, anxious boy recovered, he nodded quickly and slipped out the door, taking his blips of emotions and quickly disappearing into the tree line separating your properties.

With his departure, you could finally breathe, and you found that a tightness that you hadn’t been aware of begun to unravel in your chest. Your migraine, which you were hoping would leave with your neighbor, proceeded to hammer away in your skull. As much as you wanted to dissect your more than odd exchange with the onyx-eyed boy, you couldn’t imagine thinking about much of anything in your present condition.

“Bath…” you groaned, massaging your temples and groggily treaded your way upstairs to soak away the pain in scalding, fragrant water.

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inventors-fair · 3 years

Text

The Brakes: “In Control” Commentary

So! Phew. Sorry that this is a little late, but I’m in grad school right now listening to people talk about the familiarity of form.

And that was the hardest part about this contest, wasn’t it? The fact that we have to be somewhat familiar with removal, with hate, that we have to make something new out of old concepts. That’s not a mistake or a quirk of this contest. Here’s the thing: we ARE here to make new cards and new ideas. But Magic is not a game about reinventing the wheel. Magic is so complex, so joyously deep, that the tools we have can make cards we never dreamed of with ideas that are already entrenched. Ondu Inversion and Planar Cleansing are the ones that come to mind for me. The text? The same. But the cost? Strangely expensive... That is, unless you consider that the Inversion is also a land, and can drastically change the math of a deck, the ways in which players look at limited resources.

Gaining control of a situation means going back to the roots of strength. Custom Magic design means pushing those roots to new places. This was an extremely challenging contest prompt, and there are a lot of cool observations—well, cool things that my uncool self observed, anyway.

This week, I talked about What works on a card regarding its strengths and what I liked in terms of the contest, Critiques of how the card’s process could have been improved or should be tweaked, and any Leftovers I have that are more ramblings about card design an flavor and general nonsensical thoughts. Judge Picks are cards that have enough important mechanical or flavorful strength to point out in specific ways, cards that go in strong directions and should be commended for those strengths.

Allie — Leovold’s Command

What works: Out of all the jerkish elves, I like Leovold to have a command above all. He’s a politically minded buttface! Mechanically, three-color commands are something fairly new though not unexplored in custom space. The power level, therefore, can certainly be pushed more than something like a charm or a two-color command, and I feel you have a grasp of that.

Critiques: In terms of this contest, when we get into three colors without a clan/shard/guild identity, the feeling of resistance starts to feel muddled. I get a sense of strength but not of resistance. The versatility of commands diminishes their specificity. The card itself is good in any other context, though. I hesitate to put that strong of a boardwipe on an instant, though, even a three-color one.

Leftovers: I wonder both if you can push it more and if you need to. Should three-color cards be more unique in their mechanical execution, or spread to more powerful but known effects? That’s an environmental debate, I suppose. Also, what the heck frame is this? It’s interesting!

@col-seaker-of-the-memiest-legion — Phoenixian Gambit

What works: What an interesting name, for starters. The transformation effect in relation to battle tactics is a way to connect concepts of magical normalcy with strong worldbuilding. This card conceptually feels like an expansion on a popular world, for sure.

Critiques: This is a break. Blinking creatures is not in red’s color pie. “Enchantment counters” also don’t yet exist, but that’s whatever, future tech acceptable. Red’s way of combating white’s blocking and blockers already exist in the form of menace and “tunneling” effects, not to mention Panic effects. If this was supposed to get around targeted removal, unfortunately it’s still a break. I feel that this could have worked as a really strong bend regarding the creature dying and coming back as a phoenix, a transformation effect.

Leftovers: Intentionality is most important, so these are nitpicks, but. In terms of wording, this card should have been one paragraph that read: “Exile target creature. At the beginning of your next upkeep, return it to the battlefield under its owner’s control with an enchantment counter. It gains haste and “This creature can’t be blocked by creatures with defender or vigilance” until end of turn.”

@deg99 — Final Glory

What works: Surprised this isn’t a name already, huh. Well! In terms of a vengeful reanimation spell, or really a temporary unearthing, this is a pretty strong card. The intent for some sort of massive finality is certainly evident in the name and mechanical cohesion. I was a little ‘meh’ on split second for a reanimation spell, but honestly, it’s sensible in enough contexts.

Critiques: I don’t get a sense of gaining control from a bad situation here. BR already has reanimation wants, and it doesn’t mind being hellbent. What situation would it want to leave here? This card is perfectly serviceable. I just don’t see where its intent matches the contest criteria. In terms of flavor, the specific revenge in the text sort of implies that the opponent killed the creature. I don’t buy that exactly. I see where you’re coming from, though, and I think that in the right set you can make some OCs work in this context. In the most general sense, though, I think it could’ve even been better without context at all.

Leftovers: Personally, I’m picky about split second and flavor. Totally me being persnickety, but if it’s there I wanna know more about whatever time rift creates split second to appear on a world. Honestly, “hellbent -> can’t be countered” might’ve been smoother, but. Do you want to also maybe make the buffs until EOT? Sundial of the Infinite can make memory headaches.

@demimonde-semigoddess — Dawn Flare [JUDGE PICK]

What works: Great draft uncommon. Super situational but works against the situations that it wants to. If an opponent is attacking with some creatures and blasting through, you can get rid of one of them during combat. If you survived combat but they’re burning you out, you prevent that damage. Curiously, both of these effects work well against black and red, but the hexproof works best against blue (targeted mill, etc. but few attackers) while the second works great against green (big creatures but not as many targeting spells). The flavor of Innistrad—yes, good call. Another cool thing about it conceptually is that it’s the dawn itself that’s blinding the attack destructive or otherwise. It feels cohesive!

Critiques: I don’t have any major critiques. The flavor text is little cliché but that’s easily reworked and the concept is good.

Leftovers: When adding attribution to a quote, use shift+enter on MSE.

@helloijustreadyourpost — Ocean’s Resurgence

What works: My favorite part of this card is Kiora’s really venomous line. She is not happy. I’m curious what the situation is, and I miss Kiora. I want to see more! Edits aside, though, the gist of green and blue wanting to draw cards and getting back a dead creature, sure, I don’t mind that at all. The way that you arranged the abilities makes sense, too.

Critiques: This card feels...weak. Ish. I don’t know, I’m not loving it and I don’t know why. Grim Flowering as precedent is interesting, and wow, I didn’t know about Nature’s Resurgence. I assume this was sort of a callback? So in terms of gaining control, that draw does feel very UG, and that’s fine. I feel that you could have pushed this card to be partially removal as well to fit with the flavor text a little more. But no, that’s me just wanting. I just feel that a general, powerful draw spell with a hint of foreboding could have been fine. Returning the creature to hand, even. Right now, the forced difference-math-stuff feels like this card could feel bad in already bad situations, but you’re in a good place to take it up a notch.

Leftovers: Maybe this wouldn’t be this particular card, but imagine returning a card with mana value 5 or greater to hand, then drawing cards equal to its power? Or choosing, drawing, then putting it on top of library. Also, to reiterate: Kiora <3

@hypexion — Total Annihilation

What works: Mechanically and color-wise, this card exists exactly where it wants to exist. The color-heft and the balance try to set it apart from cards like Devastating Mastery, Hour of Revelation, etc. It’s quite interesting to see the centered text and the centered flavor text as well. This card wouldn’t necessarily feel out of place in a set that uses BW with an absolutionist edge.

Critiques: In terms of custom cards, it’s functionally identical to Planar Cleansing with a different mana cost, and if I were harsher I’d say it’s a “reskinned rare.” That’s not fair to you. Clearly this card expresses a fiercer annihilatory edge with the BW clerical angle, and I respect that. In terms of judging custom cards, this card doesn’t really give us as much meat, and I’m having a hard time giving you in-depth feedback. Would this be different if Planar Cleansing didn’t exist? Absolutely. Does it fit the context of the contest? Yes it does. I feel that for future contests, we as judges *need* mechanically unique cards, even if they’re just twists on given formulas.

Leftovers: But the pyramid of FT is pretty baller. What faction or what guild or whatever did you envision for this? Actually, you’ve given me an idea for a future contest. Remind me.

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes — Desperate Survival [JUDGE PICK]

What works: This card is clever as hell. There’s a lot I wanna pick apart, but conceptually, this notion of “stop” to “STOP” to “I DIDN’T ASK” is very cool to me. That’s the best part and what I want to highlight, which is why this is a judge pick. It’s in-color and utilizes phasing out and tapping and exile, three awesome pieces of white’s removal. I love it! It feels both a little on-the-nose with this contest and also a little exploratory but in a modern sense. I think this was a hard card for you and the effort definitely pays off.

Critiques: Let’s talk about everything else. The name feels like a playtest name with the flavor to match. I understand tropes, but targeted removal doesn’t speak to white’s survivalist tactics; I think white survival and I think lifegain or counters. “We” in the flavor text feels weird, but that’s just how pronouns work in MTG, and who “we” are leaves a lot to be desired. This is also, IMO, a one-mana uncommon, not a two-mana rare. That’s the changes and me being a jerk.

Leftovers: Edited text with proper formatting should read: “Tap target creature. If you have 15 or less life, it phases out instead. If you have 10 or less life, tap it and it doesn’t untap during its controller’s untap step. If you have 5 or less life, exile it instead.” Now, I think that the “instead”s shouldn’t be there. Tap, 15=freeze, 10=phasing, 5=exile. Playtesting shall reveal all, though.

@mardu-lesbian — Final Verdict

What works: Black’s solid life-gain is a bold choice here. I don’t mean that this is a mono-black card by any means, but casually, a mono-black deck could play this card and feel perfectly justified in running it, and that life-gain, wow. I love black boardwipes even if I feel that there’s room for them to mostly shift to white’s pie; that’s a bigger, dumber argument. This card does what it wants to do. It’s a strong hybrid boardwipe with a straightforward play feel and flavor.

Critiques: The card itself is pseudo-Orzhovian, and that’s fine. For this contest, the mechanical nature of “I’m in a bad situation get me out” is at extreme odds with how you flavored this card. A verdict, a choice, a decision to spare or not, that’s not coming back from a bad situation so much as it is controlling one that’s condescendingly pejorative, dislike over struggle, dismissal over triumph. And I like that conceptually, but not for this contest. Maybe this is operating on a level of irony that I’m smoothbraining over right now, whatever—the click still isn’t there.

Leftovers: You know, I wonder on second thought if this should be 3HHH. All creatures AND planeswalkers PLUS lifegain in hybrid is pretty darn strong. Also, I wonder how much of this contest was taken from sheer mechanics vs. sheer flavor and if that’s a result of different psychographics at odds when I’m asking them to meld. I’m curious and also self-conscious.

@misterstingyjack — Heretical Wrath

What works: Huh. I’m surprised, but you know what, people love their wipes. The focus of this one is interesting, and speaks to a set specificity I don’t hate. Of course specificity without context is naturally harder to parse, but the implications resonate regardless. Foretell is an interesting choice, as is the hybrid. The fact that it only hits creatures is totally okay and it probably couldn’t have been hybrid without it. I like how the flavor text implies the art, and how there’s this hint of pushback, the heretics mad at whatever this opposing force is.

Critiques: With the benefit of hindsight, I think I’m slightly more favorable towards this card. I’m still not convinced beyond the shadow of a doubt on how this wrath in particular shows how the bad situation is rectified. White and Black have the highest concentration of enchantment creatures on the record (though not auras, surprisingly!) and it almost feels harsh to enact that kind of punishment. Is this supposed to be a mirror-match kind of card? It’s not totally evident what general situation this is supposed to be a callback to. The specificity makes it hard to see the strength of the general feeling.

Leftovers: Frankly, I’m floored that there’s no BW hybrid wrath. What the heck. Even, like, a randomly mechanical nonsense card from Strixhaven could have had it. “Destroy all creatures, Learn.” Y’know? Anyway. Who are these heretics? It’s interesting.

@naban-dean-of-irritation — Karmic Retribution [JUDGE PICK]

What works: HA. Maybe it’s the one-sidedness of it, but this is really interesting. You can’t help but compare it to Solar Blaze from WAR, but it’s only one side, and a MUCH different flavor. See, the real question is, could this be even a mono-white card? The choice to make it multicolor was probably for the best. It couldn’t be hybrid, not with the fact that it gives things lifelink which nixes mono-red. Such a powerful card with such judgmental flavor text. What is the RW in this theoretical world? Innistradian, kkkkkind of. It feels less overtly aggressive, which I don’t mind. Some people might not like the lifelink aspect, but hey, in small situations it’s negligible, and in big situations then chances are it’s better than being dead, and you can rebuild. That’s a part I like a lot: you can rebuild from your opponent’s large life total and then chip them down.

Critiques: Nothing major. I personally like the smarm of the text but I also want a little more context. This is a card that could use art direction.

Leftovers: You know what, maybe it’s the coffee kicking in this morning as I write this but third time’s a charm—I’m slightly irked at the flavor text and want to rewrite it based on the context with which you made this card. But… Huh. How much world context do you do? General question, anyone can answer. How much do you think about the world when making cards with flavor text that aren’t directly established on a plane or with a character?

@partlycloudy-partlyfuckoff — Curtail [JUDGE PICK]

What works: I cleared the inbox so I didn’t see exactly the context with which you submitted this, but here’s the thing: part of this contest was thinking about limited. As a draft environment card, I feel that this could be either really powerful or really frustrating. It’s common, awesome, it’s cheap, sure, and it does something a little different in white that we don’t see much. The flavor text is generic enough to ask for art direction but it could easily be rewritten for a variety of worlds. From a strictly mechanical perspective, I really like what you’ve done here, and having to actively ignore the flavor to consider that this card can and will work in a variety of worldly contexts is a challenge for me. Very interesting.

Critiques: You know what, I don’t think that this is quite powerful enough. Needs a cantrip. Two mana’s a good place to put it, but consider that in most contexts it’s not half as strong as Pacifism. What are you gonna do, have a massive Ferocious meta in this draft environment? Nah, you can buff it a touch. Also, maybe a transitive verb isn’t the best choice for an Aura?

Leftovers: See, for MY personal art direction, I’d have a frustrated Azorious mage giving “the hand” to a giant behind them, as the giant falls down and hits the cobblestone with a dumbstruck, cowed expression while covered in chains.

@pocketvikings — Gatecrasher Ceratops

What works: There’s a lot of cool things that you’re doing with hybrid here. Asking players to spend their mana specifically is a little high on the complexity scale (considering commons and new players and the current discussions regarding that in contemporary Magic). I like this card for what you’re doing, though, and as a draft common, having a potential 6/6 haste-trampler means that you better have awesome removal in this set. “Gatecrasher” is interesting considering the only other context is Ravnica; does Ravnica have a dinosaur problem now? Hardly the least of our concerns, because Ravnica formulas wouldn’t have this mechanic IMO, but regardless. Big stompy dinosaur, woo!

Critiques: Half of this card would be perfectly serviceable for this contest. Having a big hasty finisher is indeed a way that these colors could get out of a situation of balanced combat. This isn’t really specific, though, not enough that it answers the question of what kind of control its exerting. Trample does change up combat, for sure! Haste makes a threat on the high end of draft curves. Together, this card is good, and I would love to play it, and even second-or-third pick it. For this particular contest the execution is merely good.

Leftovers: Nothing really to add here, honestly. I liked Adamant but it didn’t feel great in Eldraine. Thank you for tinkering with design space. Save this for your custom set, yeh?

@reaperfromtheabyss — Exert Dominance

What works: Pause, because wow. Commander players see this and start drooling. As a commander player, wow. I won’t call it strictly better than Wit’s End, because rarity discrepancies can change things and… Okay, purely mechanically, it IS, but that’s not what matters. What matters is that this spell is huge, you took a big risk, I think it paid off, and I love this card a lot. Thirteen mana for mass reanimation AND discard AND sacrifice to boot makes this the Timmy card of the century, or at least that’s how they’d put it. It’s fun, really; I won’t call it competitively good or mind-blowing, but it’s a great and powerful twist on established concepts and cards.

Critiques: For the sake of this contest, exerting dominance really isn’t the mood that I feel we should have been going for. What’s the situation? That the opponent has more cards, that they have at least six creatures? A reflavored Hex honestly would have made more sense. I’m getting a “Liliana wants to have top energy” feeling over “this is how black gets out of an unfavorable situation” feeling. Great card, save it for a custom commander cube.

Leftovers: Thinking about it, I love the thirteen-ness of it. I have been paying attention to the Discord chat and I know that there’s talks about that, and hey, we have Innistrad coming up once more (eee!) so we’ll see some more how that plays in.

@starch255 — Ceaseless Sleep [JUDGE PICK]

What works: If you submit any more puns, I’m going to surgically alter my eyebrows to be permanently furrowed. Still, it’s a good one, and I can visualize it: this grotesque and beautiful horse-like entity emerging from the oily clouds, rampaging through the town in blind, bubonic fury, unrelenting and terrible. Love it. Also, yeah! Black flash, perfect, a blocker with recursion that can severely alter combat and make your losses all the more potent, awesome. This card reacts to white weenies, red tokens, green things like elves, and in a draft environment it takes out X/1 fliers in blue too. What I love is that you can flash it, block a first striker and maybe die, then before regular combat damage hold priority and return it from the graveyard with your other cards that died in combat. Ouch-a-rooni.

Critiques: This baby is pushed as hell, fam. That’s not bad! But it’s pushed. 2BB would have made me really agonize over it as a winner vs. a runner vs. a judge pick.

Leftovers: Research time! Ooh, eight legs. But relating this to “8” in any way mechanically would have been both too powerful and on-the-nose. Besides, octopuses kind of have that space in Magic already. Damn cephalopods, why do THEY get to have all the fun? Side note, Kaldheim should have been two sets, don’t @ me.

@thedirtside — Betrayal of Blood [JUDGE PICK]

What works: Mechanically, this card’s a slam-dunk. Tainted Remedy is already awesome, right? Rakos shock on an uncommon with that bonus boost is really hot in the archetype. This feels like a signal uncommon, kind of, because you’ve situated it on Innistrad. I think that’s a totally reasonable thing to do. This card doesn’t care about Blue as far as I can tell, and that’s both okay and cool. GW humans, no life for you! Spirits, pah, shock’d. The one situation where Black and Rd’s win conditions are messed up, strong lifegain, turns into that betrayal. I love it. Looking at that one winner this contest, Dictate of Ephara… Heh heh heh.

Critiques: I’d much rather you have focused the flavor text on a specific vampire family. Maybe this was supposed to be some anti-vampire tech too, but I don’t feel that at all. Monsters don’t wax poetic, or at least, the dismissal of names doesn’t change the inherent smoothness of this speaker’s thoughts, y’know? Great name, by the way, I want to point that out too. But the situation you posit doesn’t feel in line with the general sense I feel you’re intending. Keep this around, because it’s great.

Leftovers: Hm, considering the flavor… Forgetting this contest, I wanna workshop it. “No Voldaren formality will keep the bloodlust at bay. We are monsters by any name.” I’unno, this is fun.

@wolkemesser — Fruits of Preparation

What works: Usually I don’t comment on the art, but I like how this direction could be taken for an original piece. Not sure if Azor would be my first choice of character, but hey, as a throwback to a century or two ago… Mechanically! Gaining life via spells and attacking is totally reasonable for white. The sort of late-game midrange “I’m going to bring balance to this in my favor” is a great way for a white player to come back. It makes your opponents slow down and force them to think about their decisions. In draft, this is a control card for sure. In any other format, it might be a little frustrating but it’s not the worst! I like the concept.

Critiques: The fact that this card has flash is a little frustrating to me. It’s not that it’s bad, but the thing is, flashing in someone’s upkeep is fine and if you flash it in response to anything else that the card cares about, well, it won’t trigger. Flash does nothing for this card’s triggered abilities. I feel that this card is powerful enough to just be 2WW with the two triggers. Flavorfully, I mean, the name and the abilities are fine, and it really needed a stronger flavor in the flavor text to bring them together. Against what are they preparing? Who are these individuals? Why did you choose Azor? I’m not feeling that much. This is a simple card that fits the contest, and I feel that you could have tuned it to have a much stronger emotional resonance.

Leftovers: Pet peeve time! “Whenever an opponent casts a spell, YOU gain 2 life.” Argh! Also, hm. Do you want it to trigger whenever a creature attacks, or whenever an opponent attacks (Ever-Watching Threshold)?

Thank you for your entries and your patience. Again, this was a hard contest! Let’s see what this week brings.

— @abelzumi

#mtg #magic the gathering #custom magic card #in control contest #commentary #entries #general commentary #group commentary #we should have an established tag shouldn't we #inventor's fair

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ask-jeritza · 3 years

Note

The way I see it, unfortunate circumstances, happenstance, or terrible environment is what drives others into madness (giving them trauma, as you say)—into becoming deserving of contempt. No one is born destined to be terrible.

Barring exceptions of severe mental disadvantages—psychopathy, for instance, I do not believe that it can naturally be in one’s nature to be cruel. It is those who do not receive adequate love and a proper upbringing that do end up being this way. I believe only in personality traits being “nature” such as me being rather introverted and calm despite the rest of my family making this harder on myself. The rest, such as being cruel—is not such natural trait and is simply borne out of trauma and lack of proper upbringing. I know that to be true with you, at least. I heard from Mercedes how you were naturally a sweet, loving boy. But growing up in such a terrible environment at Bartels clearly changed that.

I think you give yourself too little credit. I think that underneath, you still are that sweet and loving boy if you gave yourself the chance. You act bothered, but you do not hesitate to help. You chose to fight against the corrupted church. You attempt to befriend creatures that would rather not approach you. You feel guilt and contempt for yourself for what you’ve done—you wouldn’t if you were as horrible as you believe yourself to be. I refuse to see you as being so abhorrent as you seem to think yourself as. I don’t think I’m the only one who’s noticed you—the real you—emerging more and more after the war. I can name at least two maidens who say you are pleasant and well-meaning, when you’re not in one of your sour moods. Just no one quite so capable of coming onto you for fear of your rejection.

….Not that you care what I think, but I wanted to say that anyway. I admire you... The part of you that hates the death knight. The one that tries and tries but fails to hides his kindness in plain sight, the one capable of healing and still has love to give. Of course, I’m crazy to admit that; you don’t have to remind me. [blushes like crazy after realising that she just confessed to Jeritza and he’s probably gonna come for her ass in 2 seconds]

I—I’m sorry.

(PHEW—after seeing all the other attempts, I just wanted to give him the love confession that he deserves. Ughhh. I want Jeritza to love himself. I love this man. He beats himself up too much. 😭 I’d tag myself as 🌸 to make it easier to keep track of which anon I am, from now on. Sorry to butt in, I’m just enjoying your content!)

There is a truth to your words. We are all born as a blank slate, after all, and with the exception of biological predisposition, life experiences- both good and bad- are what shape us into the adults we become.

I do not think anyone can be compared to who they were as children, not really. Hardship and even trauma is inevitable to some degree. I may have been... sweet as a child, but all of that changed very quickly, and there is no going back to those days. The Death Knight aside, I am still a human being, and I do not intend to be cruel- any acts of kindness I might commit are not an echo of who I once was, but a representation of who I am now. The memory of my childhood pains me too much to dwell on- I try to focus on who I am in this moment rather than who I used to be.

Perhaps you are correct, and there are people capable of seeing me as something other than a monster, but that does not negate the fact that I am unstable. Once the conflict dies down and the new Fodlan rises out of the ashes I can maybe then strive for normalcy, but as it stands, I am unpredictable. Unpredictability can be dangerous. I distance myself not out of self-hatred, or self-preservation, but because I do not wish to harm those around me.

Admiration is... a common emotion to feel towards Imperial Generals, I guess. I... do not really know what to do with your words, but your frankness is appreciated. I am not used to people talking with me directly. Forgive my awkwardness.

(Oh he definitely needs to be nicer to himself, and we all wish he would! His awful social skills don't lend well to these type of situations, but he's trying. He's super not used to people being nice to him so his brain is kinda short-circuiting. And thank you!! I'm glad you like the blog!!)

#anonymous #flower anon #ask jeritza #fire emblem jeritza #fire emblem three houses jeritza #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #fe16

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myjourneythroughthefire · 3 years

Text

Here We Go Again

All my life I’ve been told that one of my greatest strengths is my ability to suffer for long periods of time. Whether that’s in long distance sports, child birth or the litany of illnesses my body has had to face over the last ten years. Well, now I’m tired. I don’t want to suffer any more or prove my “strength” in my ability to show a stiff upper lip while the Universe hands me my ass over and over again. I just want to live in peace.

Eight years ago I was looking at what I thought was the finish line in my breast cancer diagnosis. Reconstruction was a shining light of normalcy in my battle and something I celebrated. An opportunity to get a bit of my body back after all that had been taken. I had no idea that this beacon would someday become an albatross.

Where to start? The pain? Eight years of aching pain that radiates through my shoulder and burrows deep into my chest wall. Conversation after conversation with Oncologists, Surgeons; all saying the same thing, “must be phantom pain.” Then a little over a year ago that dull aching became a searing, stabbing pain. The same pain I felt when my cancer was growing nine years before. Sometimes there are moments in life when your body screams to be heard and this was one of those times. I again went to my Oncologist, pleading that something was wrong. An MRI was ordered and the results showed what the Radiologist called an area of enhancement that was “probably benign.” Not the most reassuring words. A visit to my Surgeon brought up more questions than answers. It didn’t look like breast cancer. Besides, there’s no breast tissue remaining. This enhancement was in the capsule around my breast implant. So I begin the feverish search to understand what was happening within my body.

A couple of years ago I had seen an interview with a group of breast cancer survivors who were facing a new cancer, one caused by the implants used in their reconstruction. The symptoms I was experiencing at the time fit exactly what these women were describing but I found out that only textured devices were causing this new, rare cancer referred to as BIA-ALCL, breast implant associated, anaplastic large cell lymphoma. I had smooth implants and there were no known cases associated with smooth implants so we breathed a huge sigh of relief and went on with our lives. Something in the back of my mind remembered BIA-ALCL and I began to do my own research. Turns out that I had textured expanders in place for six months while my body was being stretched to receive my implants eight years ago. With this news my Surgeon and I knew we needed to know more but this cancer is so rare, (maybe 900 cases worldwide) that no one in our area had any knowledge or experience. My MRI was sent to the University of Washington for an evaluation and weeks later I was told that the original Radiologist had misread the MRI and it was just movement on the image. No cancer, nothing to worry about. Phew. My Surgeon suggested we do a follow up MRI in six months just to be sure.

Fast forward six months and I had been surviving a year in retail in a pandemic, just signed a new lease to double my business and here’s my appointment for a follow up MRI. I go, thinking not much of it and a few days later get the news that there’s an enhancement in my left side that is “probably benign.” Definitely not movement in the MRI, something was there. Weeks of phone calls with Oncologists, (not their problem until I’m actually diagnosed), Surgeons, (only way to know definitively is to do a full capsulectomy or removal of the implants and capsule around them) and any specialist I can find through hours of research online.

In May, Chris and I flew down to MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston because they’re the leading hospital with experience with BIA-ALCL. After hours of appointments, many tears and a sobbing phone call to the plastic surgery team, I found myself in the office of a Surgeon with experience. The predicament with my situation is that there’s no way to do a biopsy of the area in question. The only way to know definitively is to do a full capsulectomy, or in layman’s terms; another bilateral mastectomy.

BIA-ALCL is tied to implanted textured devices. It sometimes presents with a mass of fluid within the capsule, or a mass on the capsule. I don’t have either of those symptoms. It is a cancer of the scar tissue around the implant until, as a lymphoma, it spreads through the lymphatic system. My capsule is lighting up on MRIs and is therefore considered to be a large risk with my history. However, I was only exposed to a textured device for six months so the odds that it’s BIA-ALCL are low but then, the odds have always been low for any of my medical conditions; I just don’t fit their statistics. The only way to know and to prevent the future need of a bone marrow transplant is to take them out.

I fly out tomorrow morning to Houston again. On Thursday, I will have a full capsulectomy to remove both implants and all the scar tissue. Everything will be sent to pathology and then we wait. I had a few different options for reconstruction: fresh implants, no reconstruction or a DIEP reconstruction. I will never put another implant in my body. I pondered long and hard about not reconstructing at all but at the end of the day, I love my body with breasts. I support everyone’s individual decision and for me, boobs it is ;) The DIEP reconstruction will consist of the Surgeon’s team removing fat and blood vessels from my abdomen and moving it and reattaching it to form breasts. It’s a huge surgery and not one I take lightly. The recovery will be long and will affect my ability to do a lot of things as I can’t lift anything over ten pounds for three months. I’m grateful to my incredible family and my awesome team at work and I think we should be able to have it covered.

So yeah, here we go again. This isn’t how I want to spend my Fall. I’m going to miss my daughter’s first day of her Senior year and my son’s first day of 8th grade. Tonight, I’m angry. I’m in a why me head space and frustrated that in the last nine years I will have lost: four boobs, (seriously, wtf?!), all my reproductive organs, my gallbladder and my sense of security in my life. I guess I’m just tired.

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treechangeseachange · 3 years

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The return

It’s coming up to 3 months since we returned to our block and it took us 8 weeks to slow down. On the weekend we slowed down we enjoyed the first official Friday night catch up with our neighbours as the full moon rose. On Saturday we went out for brunch. No sport on Sunday morning meant a sleep in. I played handball with my boys for the first time ever in my life. Lamb shanks slow cooked on the wood heater. We squeezed in a late Sunday afternoon fishing trip. It took us 8 weeks to find some calm. We had forgotten how to do normal. I haven’t written for this blog since um wow December?! My leisure time since then has been extremely limited and when it occurred I prioritised my mental wellbeing and sleep.

This journey has brought me to the edge of my psychological and physical limitations. I watched my husband do a terminator style non stop renovation while trying also to commence a rebuild. His promises to take time off over Christmas dwindled to 2 days. There was so much to do. I helped with whatever jobs I was able to and then focussed on the household and occasionally, our boys. Midway through January this year we realised trying to work on both the renovation and the rebuild was insanity. The local real-estate market was booming. Post COVID, Sydney city dwellers realised they could put in a few days in the city then work from their coastal holiday pad the rest of the week. We decided to get our investment property, come bushfire haven, onto the market before the summer ended. We mapped out each remaining job and the days required to accomplish them. We calculated selling time, settlement time and remaining bank balance. What were need to do’s and what were optional extras. If everything went to plan, we could pay to get some work done at the block and make it habitable enough to move into. It was an extreme test of time, energy and resources.

It worked. We listed by the end of February, sold in three weeks and settled five weeks after settlement. I write that all in one glib sentence. Of course all of that only happened with considerable focus and effort. Life for the boys was hectic. 99% of their toys were packed and moved into storage weeks before the house went on the market. As the house neared completion we stressed about them damaging something. When the house was on the market we stressed about them getting things dirty - the walls, the windows or the cupboards. I banished them from the bathroom, they had to brush teeth in the laundry and shower outside. Luckily it was warm and didn’t rain much in those few weeks! Anyone who has sold a house while living in it knows how painful open homes are. The logistics and effort of cleaning and styling, while working full time from home, scheduling everything between work appointments, getting the dog out of the way and the boys to school, nearly broke me. Thankfully the selling process was short, but we packed a lot of opens into that time and by the end of it all, I had become a shouty, grouchy mum and wife. It was also a real highlight to hit menopause and bring some phenomenal hormonal energy into the mix. Phew.

Before we packed up and left I was lucky enough to have a week away with the boys. My fully wired self hit Melbs and my family gave me refuge and forgave my intensity. We managed some fun and the change of scenery was a big relief. Husband, however, stayed behind to work on the temporary shed home. Holiday behind me, I returned to packup and clean and polish the house for the financial return of our lives. Literally.

Can you then imagine our triumphant and spectacular return to our block bathed in happiness and light? Um well perhaps instead picture this - we arrived exhausted to an unpowered, work in progress temporary residence in the middle of a mice plague and endured 200ml of heavy rain in four days leaving us surrounded by mud. Happy to catch the rain in our tank? I wish! The new tank leaked 8000L the week before we moved, and only our neighbour’s spare tank loan meant we had any water at all. But being so small, it overflowed and made even more mud. The heavy rain was so loud on the tin roof it frequently woke the kids in the night (who then woke us), mice ran across the floor, huntsmen spiders dropped from the ceiling. With nowhere really to unpack things, cooking became like the biggest ever memory game, which box were the bowls in? Where did I pack the cutlery? The rain delayed our solar power install so for 10 days we lived out of an esky and by torchlight. We both kept working full time, getting the boys to school, after school sport commitments and then husband kept building after he got home and into the night. After a week of stress and chaos we knew something had to give, fortunately husband could take time off work to focus on our build and family life.

Fast forward to now. The financial pressure of the summer has eased. The temporary living quarters are functional and steadily improving. We have a beautiful wood heater. Our off grid solar system is powering us even during these short winter days. I have more kitchen cupboards than ever before, plus a dishwasher! I have hung up my clothes in a full wardrobe for the first time in nearly four years. The boys each have clean new wardrobes. Their separate rooms are still being built so they are in what will be our room which is insulated and wall paneled. We can cope with an outside shower and toilet. My husband is a legend.

What’s it like actually being back? I confess I was nervous about my own and the boys emotions. Eldest son is extremely happy to be back. Youngest son has taken time to adjust but that has more been due to his fear of the dark. The noises of the bush are unfamiliar and there are no streetlights out here! There has only been one time where a prebushfire memory overwhelmed me. Every person’s bushfire experience and recovery is unique. Unlike many others we are fortunate have the opportunity to not have to build on the exact footprint of the old place and I think this is psychologically helpful. It’s not the same space, and with some trees dead and gone the landscape is altered, its a slightly different perspective. The boys are older now, so our lifestyle is different too. Slowly we are finding a new rhythm on our land. The boys are absolutely loving being back on their bikes on bush tracks.

I was excited to resume my morning walks, although maybe not as excited the dog! He’s happy to have his off-lead roam again. But the first week of walking I found tough, the burnt and recovering state forest I traverse didn’t bring me the joy it used to. In the heavily logged areas where only isolated saplings were left unlogged, they couldn’t survive the heat of the fire or they didn’t have community trees to share nutrients through their roots to support recovery. The undergrowth is now the canopy and is booming with all the extra sunlight but when I look at it, all I see is fire hazard. Then as the weeks went by, my view softened, I recognise the bush is healing like me. I am appreciating small wonders of nature. A spider’s web highlighted with morning dew or the fascination of new plants thriving. There are trees that have fully recovered, others seem to be doing well, and there is much green in the landscape to enjoy.

On my morning walk I also see which animals are about in the night from what they leave behind. There is at least one very busy wombat! We see wallabies reasonably often and last week one morning I found big roo prints in the clay right near our place. We hear a boobook owl calling most nights and more frogs chirping croaking from the gully than I ever remember. Which now makes sense, we definitely were in drought for some years prior to the fires and the creek has this year been running for months. Less exciting is hearing foxes at night, my son especially dislikes their eerie calls. In daytime the bird life is altered. We are down to one lyrebird, there used to be two with adjacent territories battling loudly with their extraordinary mimicry. But at least there is one, how a ground bird survived I can’t imagine. The yellow robins aren’t around us now, we have wrens in the cleared spaces and in the lush shrubs busy brown gerygones dart and chirp. A shrike thrush has made a nest in our bushfire remains pile, her song is piercing and wonderful. Rarely are the yellow crested black cockatoos here now. This past weekend we did see two circling wedge tailed eagles the silent assassins of the sky wheeling high over the gully with that phenomenal wingspan.

Surprisingly my greatest source of happiness in these first few months being back has come from the sky. Unobstructed by buildings, the sky feels bigger in the bush. I’m loving the late winter sunrises. My very favourite time is just after the sun has risen when the horizontal sun rays set tops of the trees bright orange. Those are magical minutes of golden tinged trees. The sunsets. The stars. The moon. the sky has been a revelation and a source of happiness. Maybe because I’m spending more time outside I notice it more. Seeing glittering stars through the steam of a hot outdoor shower makes the cold walk inside completely worth it!

Slowly I am regaining my sense of gratitude for this place. The quiet. The privilege of not seeing another house. Having no curtains and that not mattering. Not worrying about noise and neighbours. Lack of street lights at night.

All of a sudden things aren’t hectic and we are settling in. It still amazes me after 6 moves in 5 years how intense moving is and then how imperceptibly things transition to not being new anymore. Normalcy sneaks up on me every time. Clearly this isn’t really normal but we’re enjoying this new start in our old place.

#treechange #seachange #nswbushfires #recovery #offgrid

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timelady-queenofhell · 4 years

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The Silence (spoilers ahead!)

Watching The Silence (another one ticked off my Miranda watch list). I thought I’d do a running commentary as I watched, enjoy 😝

I do love Miranda in a mum role, I like the normalcy of it and the protective lioness vibes she brings.

Her and Stanley Tucci as husband and wife I am totally here for.

Oh wow I’m impressed with the use of sign language. Is there anything this woman can’t do?

Oh no her poor mum clearly isn’t well... this won’t be good when trying to stay quiet.

Not Miranda related but as if those underground train passengers just booted out a woman and her baby from the train because the baby was crying....

No!!!! Miranda’s been attacked by those creatures.

Her acting is just amazing! I know I’m so biased lol. But when she’s lying on the sofa trying to stay quiet through the excruciating pain, all while keeping a brave face for her kids. Damn. I just wanna jump into the tv and hug her.

Oh shit. Her mum just looked at the wound on her leg. It doesn’t look good, it’s infected. I swear to fuck if she dies...... I need a trigger warning of things that she dies in. I’m still not over Allison and Rebecca. Oh Rebecca Ingram I miss you.

Side note, Kiernan looks so different with brown hair. I like it.

Oh phew they got the meds and her leg is getting better. We know this from the really random 2 second scene of Mirands in the bath with her heeling leg out of the water. I’m assuming that was the point of that shot...

Oh shit the creepy guy with the long coat they met in town is back. Ew they want their daughter because she’s fertile. Like where are these weirdos coming from? Do they just wait around for the apocalypse and then come out the woodworks? Life’s bad enough as it is without you cult weirdos.

I know I’ve said it before but her acting with just sign language and no dialogue is amazing.

Awww Miranda and Stanley 💜

Mysterious young girl at the door in the middle of the night. It’s got to be a trap.

Yes. Yes it was. Phones ringing everywhere. So much noise.

Omg Miranda! One second I’m like yes smash that guys head with a hammer, the next she’s on the floor in pain. Wtf is happening.

Oh no. The grandma has sacrificed herself to save the granddaughter from kidnap. Oh shit Miranda’s heartbreak, collapsing in the rain. So perfectly dramatic and I love it. Then her daughter gets kidnapped anyway.

Oh damn, the last 5 mins are intense. They’re all in the rain fighting these creepy cult people to save Kiernan. Damn Miranda is stabbing the shit outta that guy. Yes my Queen, fierce mother lioness! Not my daughter you bitch. Ok that’s Molly Weasley but the point still stands.

Awww they went north and found a refuge. And Sabrina’s boyf is there. That’s nice.

Phew. I am so glad Miranda survived lol.

#my running commentary #miranda’s back catalogue adventures #the silence #spoilers #miranda otto #netflix the silence #hope this makes people laugh

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fantasy-pens · 4 years

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United by Love, Rain and Forgotten Umbrellas

Her eyes as blue as the merciful drops from the heaven. His eyes as green as the happy grass enjoying the heavenly showers. A tale of how forgotten umbrellas in the rain bring together the four lovable sides of the Love Square.

Chapter 2: Chocolate with Chat (MariChat)

Summary: Thunderstorms mean hot chocolate! Hot chocolate best served with whipped cream, marshmallows and....MARICHAT!!

(Kudos to Steyna Art for the bful drawing i found on the net <3 A link to the instagram post thanks to @khanofallorcs https://www.instagram.com/p/BqVH3TvhgoE/)

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“And there, all done!” the blond boy exclaimed, stretching himself as he got up from his chair.

“Phew! I thought that homework of yours would never end and I would have to stay up all night with you, kid!” complained the tiny, floating cat-god of destruction.

“Plagg, is that another way to say that you would have been cheesily romancing your sweet-smelling Camembert all night while I would have been smashing my head on the desk, pleading for you to stop?”

“Hey! I never complain when you are all flirty with Ladybug or Pigtails!”

“I do not flirt with Marinette! She is just a friend, Plagg,” Adrien defended.

“Oh really? Then why have your cheeks suddenly decided to compete with Ladybug's superhero suit in colour, huh loverboy?”

“Embarrassment! ” squeaked the part-time superhero, as he slapped his hands onto his cheeks and fervently tried to ignore the cheshire grin his cheese-loving friend was directing at him.

Nope. Nope . Nope.

Marinette was just a friend . Ladybug was the real love of his life.

Ugh! He needed fresh air! Now!

Maybe Plagg read his thoughts, for he suddenly spoke up, “Nuh uh, kid. If you are thinking of going out for a run, not now. It is gonna rain soon.”

The kwami, sadly, was right. Dark clouds were looming in the sky.

But what better chance to escape would he get than now, especially with Father and Nathalie out on a business meeting?

It would be a quick, short run. Nothing less, nothing more.

The boy looked with his best kitten eyes at the floating furball, but he didn’t relent. And Adrien really couldn’t afford to buy the floating stomach any more Camembert. Not that he had run out of money, but bank transactions made for wheels of smelly cheese? Suspicious. (And no one certainly wants Gabriel Agreste’s secret agents skimming through their money matters. Nuh uh.)

So, there was only one way left to get Plagg to agree.

“So Plagg, are you afraid of getting drenched in the rain, huh?”

“Nope. What makes you think that, kid?” the kwami asked dismissively.

Internally the kwami thought, “ What is this not-so-smart chosen of mine trying to do? ”

“Well, I see no other reason as to why you would not agree to us going for a run. The rain hasn’t even started yet! You are a cute little kitten at heart after all, right, Plagg?” As he said so, Adrien reached out and scratched the kwami lightly behind his ears.

Oh heavenly Camembert! The petting felt so good!

The kwami purred instinctively. “Aww, Plagg,” the blond said in a sugary-sweet cookie voice ( bleh! cookies! ), “who is a good kitty, hm?”

“I. Am. NOT. A. Kitten!”

“Oh really? Prove it, then!

Challenges were one of Plagg’s main weaknesses. (After Camembert, of course.)

“Kid, I am NOT scared of rain!” With a grumble, the kwami added, “You know the magic words.”

“That’s the spirit! Plagg, Claws Out! ”

One cool transformation sequence and scratch-dance later, Chat Noir stood where the model had been a few moments ago. Flexing and stretching himself like a feline, the superhero grabbed the baton clipped behind his back, and jumped onto and out of the open windowsill into the awaiting city.

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Jumping over rooftops with the cool wind blowing on his face sure was exhilarating.

The black-leather-clad boy was enjoying his sprint when suddenly something wet hit his head.

Wait, wet?

Looking up, Chat Noir caught just a glimpse of the heavy, dark clouds before SPLAT! Another drop fell on his forehead.

Damn, it hadn’t even been half an hour and he needed to get home soon. It wouldn’t do him good to fall sick, especially when he technically had not been out in the rain.

Breaking into another sprint, Chat Noir prepared himself to scale the alley in front of him when he felt the roof under him move. Or rather, his foot was moving back faster than normal.

With a yelp, the cat lost his footing and slid down the slanted roof into the alley below.

Oh god no! He surely wasn’t in the mood to be soaked-cat-pancake today!!

Grabbing his baton, Chat pressed the pawprint on it just in time for the device to lengthen up and get lodged in between two open windows (truly the luck of a ladybug), leaving him hanging from it, badly shaken but safe and sound.

As he tried to get his bearings back, he heard someone entering the dark alley.

“It surely is raining Chats and dogs today,” a familiar voice called out from below.

“Purrincess!” Chat exclaimed, shrinking his baton back to normal and landing softly (and with normalcy) on the ground.”To what does this knight owe the purr-leasure?”

“Well, I was passing by, and saw you experimenting whether Newton was correct with his claims about gravity,” Marinette said, bursting into laughter. “Sorry chaton , I just couldn’t help myself. Especially after that nerve-wracking study session I had with Alya.” The girl held her forehead in a dramatic manner. “Oh goodness! Woe is me!”

The superhero-in-black couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, well, little lady. Have you secretly been taking drama lessons from my kwami in exchange for cheese danishes?” Chat added with a wink.

Earlier, Marinette would have had to act all stupidly confused about what a kwami was. But now that Chat knew that she was Multimouse, things were a lot easier between the two.

Ever since Chat had first appeared on her balcony an year ago, the two of them had struck a chord. Somewhere, maybe in the banters, puns or the heartfelt emotions shared under the starry sky, the two of them had grown close, becoming the best of friends.

“Who knows? Maybe I am?” she said nonchalantly with a shrug, a hint of smirk visible on her face.

Striking up a mock thinking pose, Chat commented, “Well, well, mice love cheese. You two would have surely bon- ACHOO!”

The sneeze seemed to bring Marinette back to awareness that the teenage superhero was soaked head-to-toe in the rain.

“Damn, Kitty, which wise sage gave you the advice to go patrolling on a day like this? Come’ere,” saying so, the girl pulled him in with herself under her umbrella. “Good thing I left Alya's place after the rain started and she gave me this umbrella, or else I myself would have been drenched by now. Forgetful me. But anyways, you," she said, shoving a finger in his chest and eliciting an “oof! ” from him, “are coming with me and getting all warmed up before you catch a cold. I won’t accept a no,” she added, making the cat hero close his mouth that he had opened in hopes of protest. Instead, he smirked and bent down in an elaborate bow.

“Your wish is my command, ma princesse .”

His comment was rewarded by an eye-roll and slight chuckle.

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Marinette ushered the young superhero in through the backdoor, away from the prying eyes of any customers, and especially her parents.

However, it seemed as though Chat’s bad luck had finally caught up with them (or more specifically, her ) as she opened the door to the house only to find her dad standing there, in a position that clearly showed that he had been about to open the door just a moment ago.

“Mon petit cupcake , welcome back! How were your lessons with Al...” her dad’s voice trailed off as he noticed the cat-themed boy behind her.

Meanwhile, Chat was a bit….nervous? Queasy? Or was terrified a more appropriate word? After all, having seen and been beaten up by Weredad had NOT been a pleasant experience. And who knows what thoughts were right now running through Mr. Dupain’s mind on seeing his daughter (whose heart Chat had once broken) with him? It was extremely natural for him to feel self-conscious all of a sudden. But now that he had been noticed, well.

“Hi, Mr. Dupain,” the boy weakly offered, plastering a shaky, nervous smile on his face.

The huge man kept looking at him blankly. Chat started mentally pep-talking to himself to deal with this awkw- WOAH! All the air left the boy’s lungs as he was suddenly scooped up in a teddy-bear hug.

“My goodness, Chat Noir! Superheroing has sure made you go thin, my boy! And please, just call me Tom,” the baker said laughing.

“Su-sure….thi-thing, Mr. Dup-I mean...To-Tom,” the hero wheezed.

“Papa! Chat Noir will be able to call you Tom only when you give him some air to breathe!!” Marinette interjected, worried that the black cat might pass out soon from the lack of air.

“Ah! Sorry young man,” Tom put the boy down, clapping his shoulders. “I must say, you are all drenched! I don’t know if that suit is designed to keep you from getting soaked, so get warmed up and stay here till the rain stops, okay?” He turned to Marinette, “Sweetheart, make sure to keep our guest cosy. We wouldn’t want our superheroes to fall sick, after all! In case you children need anything, Sabine and I will be downstairs. Have fun!” With a booming laugh, the guardian of the house took his leave.

“Well, that hug certainly warmed me up,” Chat said, breaking the silence. “I am glad he is not mad at me anymore. For the...uh, you know..”

The ravenette smiled and placed a comforting hand on his shoulders. “It wasn’t your fault, Kitty. What I had was a fleeting celebrity crush. And what really makes me glad is that you truly adore Ladybug. Now,” grasping the blonde hero’s shoulders, Marinette turned him around, pushing him up the stairs, “go up and dry yourself up. You will find the towel on the chaise, if I remember correctly. I will make us some hot chocolate.”

“Okay, okay, princesse , I am going up!”

Saying so, the hero went away and Marinette busied herself in the kitchen. She had just put milk in a saucepan when...

“Wow! I must say, your room sure has some interesting decorations, purrincess!”

Interesting decorations? Wait, she had taken off the Adrien pictures from her walls and..

GOD!! Did she leave her computer on??!! Oh, hell no!!!

Dashing up the stairs, Marinette threw the trapdoor open, not caring about the banging sound it made. She COULD NOT let the sauve cat see the heart doodle background of Adrien on her computer!! Oh goodness, she would never hea-

Her computer was turned off.

Laughter attracted her attention, making her turn her head to see the teenage hero on the ground, laughing and struggling for air.

“Oh. My. Kwami. Tha-that rea-reaction...wow princess! HAHAHAHAHAHA! You just made my day!” He broke into another fit of giggles.

“Not. Funny. Dry yourself up, chaton ,” the girl deadpanned, giving him her best you-do-not-amuse-me look.

“Aww come on princess,” Chat said, putting up a mock pout as he literally crawled towards her, “don’t be a wet blanket, paw-lease?”

“Wet blanket? What on earth are you- CHAT, NO! ” the girl screeched as all of a sudden, the hero shook his head, spraying water droplets on her.

Stopping the activity, the hero looked up at her flirtatiously through the wet hair that had fallen in front of his eyes, water still dripping from them. “Chat, yes, Purr-incess,” he said, winking at her as he flicked her nose.

Damn. He looked so flirtatiously ho-

NO! Bad Marinette! Your heart is reserved only for Adrien.

Well, best to break the kitty’s smoulder.

“No cookies for you,” saying so, the girl smugly walked down the stairs, ignoring the mock wail of despair that followed her.

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So will our kitty get the cookies? Or is Marinette going to punish him for his tomfoolery? With Marichat, fluff and fun are bound to happen! And so are the heart-to-heart talks. To know what happens next, continue reading the chapter on the links below!

Read on Ao3 here

Read on ffn here

Thanks for all the reviews, likes, reblogs, favorites, subscribes, follows, kudos and comments <3

#miraculous fanfic #marichat #fluff #friendship #hurt #comfort #heart to heart talks #adrien needs a good parent #humor #cuteness #chat being an idiot #puns #miraculous love square

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dakotacrisis · 5 years

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A Day In The Life Of Gorilla

Gorilla is a silent character but his inner thoughts are anything but. Hereby referred to as Ishmael because I doubt he would refer to himself as Gorilla.

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The alarm clock went off and Ishmael got up for another day of work as Adrien Agreste’s body guard. Another day of subtly working around his emotionally stunted employer to let the socially inept teenager have a couple hours of normalcy while still retaining his job. It was a fine line but thanks to Gabriel’s frequent absenteeism and Adrien’s innate ability to sneak away it was not hard.

After getting dressed and having a long look in the mirror contemplating if he should shave the muttonchops Ishmael headed to the kitchen for breakfast. Nathalie was already there sipping some coffee and doing the newspaper suduko. She gave him a half-awake greeting and returned to her task.

Ishmael went to the cupboards and sighed. He understood when he moved to France that there would be cultural differences but he really missed big breakfasts. If he could get a weekend off he’d go visit his sister in Kirn. See how his brother-in-law is doing. Play with his nephews. Eat something other than a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast.

Soon it was time for him to drive Adrien to school. The poor boy looked like death as he slid into the backseat of the car. There had been an akuma attack last night that must have woken him up.

Upon getting to the school he waited to make sure Adrien got inside okay. One of Adrien’s friends, Nino, came up to talk to him along with some other classmates. Immediately Adrien perked up. Public school really had been the best thing to happen to that boy.

After running some errands it was time for Adrien to be picked up to go to his photoshoot. Unfortunately when he got to the school the scene playing out at the front entrance was the exact opposite of the happy environment Adrien had been dropped off in. Chloe Bourgeois was planted firmly in front of Adrien and loudly complaining at Adrien’s new co-worker Lila Rossi.

This ought to be good. Ishmael rolled the window down far enough to hear what was going on.

“It is utterly ridiculous! I will not condone this!” Chloe yelled.

Adrien said something but only Chloe’s screams could be heard from the car.

“If your dad wants someone to partner modeling with you then it is going to be me! Not this out of season, romper wearing, disrespectful, philistine.”

Philistine? He wasn’t aware Chloe carried that word in her vocabulary. He was a little impressed.

There was some more talking from Lila and Adrien to an angry Chloe before a third girl entered the fray. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. The little designer that lived in the bakery had all of Ishmael’s respect. Being one of the few girls in Adrien’s circle that had a crush on him but didn’t force herself on the boy.

Case and point, Marinette came up behind Adrien and tapped him on the shoulder before pointing towards the car waiting for him. He looked back at the car with a gesture to Marinette to follow.

Yes. Come on baker girl! Take the invite!

She nodded and the two quickly snuck away from the fighting girls and hopped in the car.

“Phew,” Adrien collapsed in his seat. “Thanks for coming by when you did, Marinette.”

“No problem.” Marinette beamed. “Thanks for letting me tag along to your photo shoot.”

“Well I know how into fashion you are.” Adrien teased sending the girl’s face aflame.

Ah, young love. Even if one of them was too oblivious to see it.

Speaking of photo shoots Ishmael should probably stop eavesdropping on a couple of teenagers and drive to said photo shoot.

“Adrien!” Chloe started stopping after the car with Lila right on her heels. “Wait!”

Nope! Ishmael peeled out leaving the other girls in the dust.

Adrien and Marinette continued talking in the back leaving Ishmael to his thoughts.

Maybe if he could find some really heavy traffic that could give the two kids in his backseat more time to talk. He was not above admitting that he really like the baker girl for Adrien. Now if only the boy would drop his crush on Ladybug to pursue it.

Ishmael understood where the infatuation with the hero was coming from but at a certain point it just wasn’t possible. He had read enough comics to know that heroes dating civilians never ends well! Secret identities, misunderstandings, kidnapping and ransom on the regular. It was enough to give Ishmael anxiety just thinking about it. He was hired to protect Adrien. He would lose his mind if the boy kept getting taken hostage by akumas trying to use him as collateral for Ladybug’s earrings.

This job was stressful enough with Gabriel Agreste constantly breathing down his neck. He didn’t need the rest of his hair to go full grey because Adrien wanted to be the next Mary Jane Watson!

They pulled up to the site of the photo shoot and Ishmael waited in the car.

He liked to use this time to look up everything he could about parenting, abusive relationships, and adoption legalese. Not that he was secretly planning to expose Mr. Agreste’s gaslight parenting and adopt Adrien as his own until his mother can be found. That would be crazy.

The work gave him some reassurance though. He at least had some understanding and preparation if Mr. Agreste did ever go too far and action needed to be taken. He cared about that boy so much. Had been watching over him since he was a little kid. Came to see him as a son even if he couldn’t outwardly show it. He’d be damned if he didn’t get custody in the event that Mr. Agreste had an...accident.

Okay. That got a little dark. Ishmael wasn’t about to go and beat up his employer for not being more involved or directly invested in Adrien’s life. The thought was tempting though. So...so...tempting.

CRASH!

Oh what now? And there was an akuma turning everyone into giant flowers. Great. Does Hawkmoth ever take a day off?

Ishmael jumped out of the car to find Adrien and get him to safety when the akuma spotted him and shot what looked like seeds at him. He shielded himself from the assault only to then wake up some time later sprawled on the ground.

Had he gotten turned into a flower? What kind of nonsense was that? At least if he was back to normal that meant that Ladybug and Chat Noir had restored everything. Past events gave him reason to believe that Adrien was fine but he wouldn’t be able to stop worrying until he saw the boy.

Quickly he rushed onto set and saw Adrien stroll out into the open. Thank goodness he was safe. Ishmael stayed outside on set after that. After they wrapped up he was supposed to take Adrien straight home but when the boy came up to him with that hopeful look in his eye and an innocent plea to stop by the Dupain-Cheng bakery for a couple minutes for treats with Marinette, Ishmael couldn’t say no.

As long as they got home within the hour it shouldn’t be bad. The teenagers walked into the bakery and Ishmael had to resist the urge to go in and pick up some goodies for himself. He was working. If he wanted pastries he should have picked them up while Adrien was in school.

A few minutes went by and Adrien bid Marinette and her parents goodbye before heading back to the car. A little pink box in his hands. Oh great. Now he was gonna be stuck in the car with the smell of fresh baked pastries teasing him.

Adrien got inside and popped open the lid. “Hey Gorilla,” Adrien scooted forward in his seat and held out a macaron for him. “I got you one. It’s green tea and white chocolate flavored.”

Ishmael took the offered macaron with a small smile. Green tea and white chocolate was his favorite flavor.

They drove home and Ishmael tried not to show his annoyance when they entered and Mr. Agreste was waiting at the top of the stairs. What kind of holier than thou intimidation tactic was this?

You are not a king overlooking his subjects! Come down to eye level! Where did this attitude come from? Before this jerk face got big he was living in a rundown studio living off of microwave meals and patching thrift store jeans. You’re not a haughty as you make yourself out to be, Gabe! The fact that Emilie agreed to marry you was nothing short of a miracle considering what a prominent and wealthy family she came from. You were a tortured artist hobo next to a happy-go-lucky princess!

Calm down. Let the overbearing prick in his peppermint ensemble complain about being ten minutes late. It’ll be over soon.

Adrien looked disheartened by his father’s words. He apologized and tried to rationalize that they were only ten minutes late but Mr. Agreste was having none if it. And to top it all off he had Nathalie take the box Adrien had brought home from the bakery.

Berate the boy for being late. Pair him with a co-worker he doesn’t like. Rarely join son for meals. Barely talk to son. All of that was one thing but to take the poor boy’s treats? Was nothing sacred?

Now thoroughly miserable Adrien ascended up to his room. Nathalie handed the box from the bakery to Ishmael. “Dispose of this.” She glanced up at Adrien’s room before following Mr. Agreste into his office.

Ishmael knocked on the door to Adrien’s room but no answer came. Quietly he opened the door but didn’t see anyone. He must be in the bathroom. He deposited the box on Adrien’s desk and left.

He may not be able to protect Adrien from everything but at least he could help him in other ways.

#i thought it was cute #and potentially funny #miraculous ladybug #the gorilla #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #gorilla got sass

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dontdietwd · 4 years

Text

Don’t Die, day 15

A flock of birds flew through the sky above the road, chirping loudly and joyfully as the first rays of the sun lit up the landscape, pinks and oranges painting it beautifully. A clear contrast against the road, infinite rows of cars parked in line, gloomy and quiet. It was like nature was mocking us all, pretending nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Like it was celebrating the fact that the city a few miles away had been bombed; celebrating that nature had finally won over humanity.

I’d been staring at the sunrise for a while, sitting on the roof of the car, hugging my knees against my chest. It was gorgeous. After a while I took a deep, deep breath and felt the air was fresh; the smoke from the cars’ exhausts having dissipated hours ago. I had always liked the sky. One good thing of having lived in Garden City was that I could always see the sky there; bright nights of full moons or with millions of shining stars; and the sunrise. More often than not, when the sky was clear, I left her house a few minutes earlier than necessary just so I could take a glimpse of the sky.

Now, on top of the truck, head turned up to avoid seeing the rows of cars and strange, hopeless people around, I felt a tiny flicker of normalcy. The world was still out there; it was only different. By my side, having been silent for more than one hour, Daryl had his elbows resting on his knees, biting into his lower lip, mind seemingly miles away but his presence still there, solid by my side.

“About this group,” he slowly broke the silence in a real low voice, for my ears only.

I turned her head to look at him for a moment and waited for him to go on, but he didn’t say anything else, his thumb now suffering the abuse from his teeth.

“Yeah?” I encouraged him in a whisper, which made Daryl turn his head to look at me.

He still took a few moments to speak. “I don’t like people,” he lowered his eyes and it sounded like a confession.

“I know.”

“Don’t trust them,”, he looked at me again.

“I know. I don’t either.”

He didn’t answer, but also didn’t look away, again biting into his lip.

“That’s why I need you and Merle with me,” I moved on gently. “We’ll be with them for safety. For a real camp, for weapons and more look outs, for food.”

“But we –” Daryl said suddenly, without a thought, and stopped himself abruptly.

“The three of us?” I whispered leaning a bit closer to him, as if I was sharing a secret. “We’re our own group, from the beginning. I’d like to keep it that way.”

Daryl kept quiet again, eyes fixed on mine like he nearly never did, dancing from right to left, searching for something. He then nodded slowly, no longer biting on his lip, trying to see if I really meant it.

“We’re still it… Right?” he asked in the same whisper a moment later.

I took a moment to understand. Being in a group, as small as it was with only three people, seemed to mean more to Daryl than he had ever let out, and I understood it by his question and unguarded expression; unguarded like I had never seen before. He like what we had and didn’t want to lose it.

“Of course,” I said softly, hiding well my surprise, I think. “We’ll always be it. No matter the group we’re in. You and me…” I paused and added, as an afterthought “…and Merle,” because for a moment I did forget to mention Merle and I wondered why. Was I thinking of just Daryl and I as a together thing? I did get along way much better with Daryl than with Merle, that was a fact and I’m sure even they knew it. “We’ll stick together,” I finished and gave him a small, reassuring smile and felt the need to add “Right?” having a sudden need to also hear it.

Daryl nodded. “Right. I’ll have your back.”

“Yeah,” I smiled more. “And I got yours,” and lightly shoved his shoulder with mine, receiving the same gesture back a moment after, accompanied by a tight little closed lips smile.

I was still smiling when I looked again to the sunrise, feeling strangely content for someone in my situation. What was it about this little conversation what warmed my heart like what, like I hadn’t felt in a real long time? By her side, I could feel Daryl stealing few more glances at me, not lingering for too long on each look. By the corner of my eye I caught him eyeing my tattooed art, like he was paying attention to each of them just now. There was a perfectly drawn green hummingbird flying among orange flowers, right above my elbow. A little higher, on my shoulder, the silhouette of a little girl standing, arm outstretched towards a balloon that was clearly soaring away from her. Under the balloon, a date; August 1998. Lower, on my forearm, a colorful mandala with Bowie’s “you’re too old to lose it, too young to choose it” written in typewriter letters under it.

Daryl was thinking hard of something, I could tell. He was back to biting his inner lower lip, poor flesh must be sore by now, a sot frown worrying his forehead, but still looking at me and away repeatedly. I wished he would talk to me, speak what was on his mind.

“Uh, hey, hum…” an uncertain voice woke us both from our thoughts. Both of us looked down at the asphalt, a bit startled, to see a young man, Asian with a baseball cap who looked like no more than a teenager. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah?” I was the one to speak, not moving. Daryl did tense a bit by my side, though. Not much, the boy didn’t look like a threat.

“I heard you talking last night? This is my car.” he pointed to the one parked right by ours. “I wasn’t trying to overhear, just… Heard you. I’m - I’m Glenn, by the way.”

“Yeah, Glenn, what did ya hear?” Daryl asked annoyed by the interruption.

“You’re forming a group to get away from the road and set camp?”

“That a question?” I stretched my legs in front of me and crossed my arms.

“No. Question is if I can join.”

I stared at him for a moment. There was no reason at all why I wouldn’t let him join. He was young and probably energetic, and he looked smart – maybe I was just stereotyping him – but we could use smart people on the group.

I looked at Daryl and he shrugged, “You call it.”

I looked again at Glenn, “You know how to do something useful?”

“I learned how to shoot years ago, but I don’t have a gun. And I can run pretty fast, won competitions at school… I’ve killed a few of the dead when I was escaping, so I think I can deal with them. And Atlanta?” he kept going as he pointed towards some random spot with his thumb over his shoulder. “I know the streets like my own backyard, if it’s needed to go there for something. I just… Yeah.”

I simply stared at him for a long moment, one eyebrow up, thinking. Well, I wasn’t really thinking, I had agreed already. I guess I was in a better mood today, enough to even tease the boy. But I felt for him, poor guy, he started t shift his weight from one foot to another, looking from me to Daryl repeatedly.

So I finally smiled at him, “Yeah, you can come.”

Glenn laughed. “Oh, phew! Good, thanks!” and he looked at Daryl, smiling. “Hey!”

“Yeah.” was all he got as an answer, just I Sam hopped down to the floor and extended her hand at the boy.

“I’m Sam.” we shook hands. “This is Daryl, and there’s one more sleeping in the car, name’s Merle.”

Daryl also fell to the asphalt and hit the front of the car three times with his palm. “Wake up!” he shouted and we watched as Merle woke up from a deep daze, defensively looking around the road through the windows, asking “what” repeatedly.

“Morning, sleepyhead!” I said in a sing-song voice.

“Son of a bitch!” was his answer

Daryl poked me and pointed down the road, to where Shane and Lori approached us being followed by three new people who hadn’t been there last night.

“Morning.” Shane greeted us. “You guys ready?”

“Almost,” I answered. “Hey, this is Glenn, he’ll be joining us.”

Shane eyed Glenn for a moment, as the boy waved awkwardly at him, and looked back at me, annoyed.

“Ya picking up people now?”

Oh, the nerve. Instead of an answer, I leaned to her left to be able to look at the three new people behind Shane; an older man with a bucket hat and two blonde girls, very similar to each other. I looked at each of them for a moment then smiled. “Hi, I don’t believe we met, I’m Sam.” and looked back at Shane, smile vanishing in a blink of an eye. “Yes, I am, just like you.”

“Dale’s got an RV. Might be useful.” Shane explained. “Andrea and Amy were with him.”

“And Glenn needed a group. He can run.” I finished and looked again at the three people. “Welcome to the group. We’re heading back south 85 until we find some other road. Gonna look around checking for places. After we find it, all our supplies will be rationed and shared. Get used to the idea.”

“Hey, can I speak to you for a moment?” Shane said in a low, a but urgent voice and touched my arm to nudge me away from the group. Daryl tensed by my side, taking a step to follow us, his chest puffed.

“Alone?” Shane asked looking from me to him, eyebrows raised.

“Anything you gotta say to me, you can say it to Daryl. Gonna him later anyway.”

Shane breathed out loudly as to control something that had instantly boiled inside him. I didn’t want to know what, but wondered what the fuck did he want to tell me tha Daryl’s presence would ruin it.

“Look, it’s just…” Shane started once we were away from the rest of the group, Daryl standing facing us both with his arms crossed. “I’ve come to you and invited ya to join my group. Right? Glad you accepted, but we gotta set some boundaries here. Can’t have too many people calling on decisions here. I’m an officer, alright? I know how to deal with things.”

“You’re a cop?” Daryl asked in an impressed tone, making me look surprised at him. I’d never heard him joke before. I liked it, the sarcastic tone. “Really? Hadn’t heard about it yet.”

I held in a laugh, a smile playing on my lips trying to contain it. By the look in Shane’s eyes, he was quickly approaching some kind of limit that I preferred not to push. At least not for now.

“Being a cop in the fuckin’ end of the world ain’t gonna mean that much, Shane,” I said as my smile vanished. “We all got abilities here, you got yours, I got mine. If ya think you’ll be making all the decisions for the group just ‘cause of the profession ya had before the end o the fuckin’ world, well, you wrong.”

“Now look here –”

“You will be making decisions…” I raised my voice to interrupt him and lifting a hand between us to make him stop talking “if that’s so important to you, if you make reasonable decisions. That’s all it’s gonna take. For now, this group has no leader. We don’t know you, alright? Ya can’t expect people to do as you say with no questions asked.”

“Ain’t that what you just did?”

“I stated the obvious, is what I did. Last night we talked about leaving the road, the only possible way is south. About finding a place, sharing and rationing things, all things we talked about last night. Ain’t that what we gotta do?”

Shane stared at me in silence, big eyed, hands on his hips. After a moment he nodded, tongue liking his teeth, and looked from me to Daryl and back again. With that, he turned his back to them, returning to the group.

“Alright, let’s all get the cars and turn around to south, it’s time now. We’ll travel together.”

* * *

The day felt like a week as it passed slowly, the stuck traffic on the road making the all our cars, truck and RV need to navigate through the grassy path between the lanes of the road, ever so slowly. Down south on 85, the asphalt was little less packed with cars and we were able to gain a little speed, but by then it was already mid-afternoon. We were unable to leave the main road that day. When evening started to come, we decided to stop in the middle of nowhere, not having a better place to do that. By this time, our caravan was already bigger. One more car and a van had started following us at about four in the afternoon. Shane had sped up to catch up with our truck.

“Ya think we should be worried ‘bout these guys following us?” Shane had asked aloud with both cars moving.

“Saw them too, huh?” Merle shouted from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, ‘bout a mile ago.”

“Let’s stop.” I yelled leaning over Merle to the window. “We’ll see what they want.”

Shane and I had gone opening the party, Merle, Daryl and Glenn standing behind us with weapons purposefully on sight. It had turned out to be a family, the Morales couple with their two children, and two more people they had picked up to help on the road, Jim and Jackie. Behind them, alone in a van, was a man named Theodore, but he preferred to be called T-Dog. We talked for a while with those six new people, who practically begged to go and set camp with us. I don’t know what they saw in our little group that made them want to join so badly, there was nothing special about us. But well, we did have weapons and food, I guess the value of those was pretty high then. Shane rubbed his nose, scratched his head and, finally, looked at me. I was just waiting, had been quiet almost all the time, and as I looked back at Shane, I nodded. I didn’t think these people would be the kind we’d like to avoid, and they had children. As I said, any group with children would do anything to protect them. At my acceptance, Shane told it would be ok for them to follow.

“Yeah, that’s a good one.” Merle mumbled when the three of us reentered our truck. “Picking up strays. Latinos and niggers. Gonna start mixin’ up our kinds now?”

“Fuck, shut up, ya dickhead!” Daryl barked from the opposite window.

“See, that’s the kinda comment ya gotta keep just here among us, huh?” I told him. “You say that to them, you start a fight, shit hit the fan even before the camp’s settled.”

“Whatever. But ya think like I do, dontcha princess?”

“Of course not! You’re being an asshole again. A racist asshole, to make it worst! Don’t you ever say anything like it to them!”

Merle said even more racist things for a while and I answered to them for a moment, before realizing that working myself up trying to convince Merle of something was a complete waste of time. After a while Daryl and I just told Merle to shut up once again, Merle told us to go fuck ourselves, and everything was peaceful again.

Now night had fallen and a fire had been built on the side of the road. Glenn was standing on top of the RV with a rifle, keeping watch and Jim was doing the same in the middle of the road. We were exactly twenty people – four children, seven women, nine men. Around the fire, all the women were sitting together, light conversation rolling between us, a clear search for bonding starting to happen, asking each other what we did before the turn, telling about our lives.

Jackie told us she worked at Atlanta’s city hall, but hadn’t been in the city on the turning days. She had just lost a cousin in LaGrange and had been there for the funeral. She heard the news about what was happening on the radio as she drove back home. At some point on 85 she got a flat tire and started walking her way up the road. Jackie had walked for hours and was completely exhausted when the Morales pulled up for her and offered a lift. They had just done the same for Jim miles before. On the Morales’ car, she got acquainted to Miranda, who gave her water and something to eat. Their family had been driving from much closer to Atlanta, in search for the shelter. Miranda told us she and her husband were married for almost fifteen years and she was a housewife. Lori and Carol both told they were full-time moms and wives as well. Carol didn’t say much about herself, retreating from the subject by asking Lori about her husband.

Lori told the group he had been a deputy-sheriff in King County and had been shot on duty weeks ago. He had passed away in the hospital just days before, Lori said with a trembling voice and unshed tears in her eyes. Her husband’s best friend had run to their house to pick her and Carl up to take them to the shelter. To enlighten a little the mood, we kept on the subject, Andrea telling them she was a civil-rights lawyer and had been on a road-trip with her sister, Amy, driving her back to college when it all happened. They had been caught up in a walker attack on the road and Dale, with his RV, had helped them to get out, only to later be caught up on the traffic.

They finally asked me what I did, and I told them I was a single waitress who went to adult school at night and jumped around things for sport on the weekends, and that was it. As I spoke, I noticed Carol looking around, eyes searching for something worriedly.

“Uh… Have any of you seen Sophia?” she asked in her small voice.

“She left minutes ago, I saw her get up.” Lori told her. “I thought she had told you she was leaving.”

“No…”

“Where did she go?” I asked Lori.

“Towards their car.”

“Oh… I think she went to sleep then. I’d better –” she started motioning to get up.

“I think it’s alright, her dad’s in the car, isn’t he?” Andrea asked in order to make Carol stay.

“Uh… Yeah. He is…” she got up anyway, a nervous look to the car. “I gonna go there anyway. Good night, girls.”

We all were silent as she left. Jackie looked around at the other’s faces, looking for someone who was thinking the same as her, and found my eyes by her side taking a deep breath, brows furrowed, looking at Carol as she reached the car. I then looked back at Jackie, our glance exchange telling us all we had to know. The group dispersed shortly after that, each woman going to try and find comfort to sleep for a few hours in their own cars.

I went to where Daryl was sitting and smoking on the hood of our truck – Merle had just left him to go sleep inside. I sat by him, controlling by breath because damn, I was angry. My fists were closed tight. Carol didn’t want Sophia alone with her dad, her eyes denouncing just how worried she was at the idea, and the meaning of it made by blood boil. Daryl and I didn’t say anything as Daryl handed me a cigarette. I took it and held it between my fingers, but denied with a gesture when Daryl reached out with his lighter. Still holding it, I rested my elbows on my knees.

“Ed definitely beats up his wife,” I whispered for his ears only. “May touch his girl as well, but I ain’t sure ‘bout that yet.”

Daryl took a deep breath then, looking to the same direction I was; the Pelletier’s car.

“Son of a bitch.” he whispered back.

“I know I got nothing with this.”

“Yeah?”

“But if I see something…”

“Won’t blame ya.”

#twd #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #twd fic #The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fic #daryl fic #daryl fanfic #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x oc #daryl ofc #daryl x ofc #daryl dixon x original female character

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flyswhumpcenter · 5 years

Text

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled. I don’t have any request left, so feel free to send in suggestions for this card!).

I still don't know what I'm doing.

I need to respect my BTHB prompts more than that, this is a catastrophe in terms of prompt filling. My characterization is literally all over the place with this one, but you can consider it a way to break the ice with new characters I don't know entirely yet. I've also taken great inspiration from my friend Azure's fanon (which is a nicer way to say I fucked up trying to write for her fanon) It's been a struggle coming up with interpretations for these two, so this is... meh at best, but I hope someone out there will like it anyway; At least, I hope it'll be a stepping stone towards better writing. I am very sorry for this, FE3H fandom, this is weird and experimental in nature. I was kind of trying things out and I've been in the wrong mood for this fic (as in: Inazuma Eleven mood sksk), but hey, if my friend and/or someone else likes this, then it'll have done its job.

I may come back to this ship another time with better ideas as to how to write them, but at least, the painful first approach is done and over with. Phew.

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Shifting Temperatures

Summary:

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses (pre-Timeskip, fanon-heavy) Ship: F!Byleth/Claude

Wordcount: 2K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

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The monastery was a place he didn’t like and had never liked. He also didn’t have the intention of ever liking the place, this much was obvious: it was cold, so cold, and it was a prison he had been confined to. Yeah, sure, as if that was going to motivate it to become some kind of king over a kingdom.

Being forced to remain in just one room of that monastery just made things worse.

It was all because of the weather that never knew what it wanted and the monastery’s absolutely garbage isolation. It was always cold, in that damn thing: stone didn’t protect them from the outside temperatures as much as these people thought it did. Spend more than a week in this place without falling sick, he dared the sky above: even a god couldn’t withstand the shifts in temperatures and the rain that kept pouring at the wrong moments.

Curse that thing, and curse having to live with an ailment of any kind. That wasn’t fun, that wasn’t the way he wanted to live his life! Being stuck in this place wasn’t enough, did they have to add on top of everything sicknesses?

Nobody had ever been served better than by themselves, so Claude did as he usually did: feign normalcy and continue on with his day as … “less worse” than possible. It shouldn’t have been this hard to ignore a lingering headache and slightly stiff limbs. After all, they were all warriors in the making, post-training hours always felt sore.

Classes sored them dry, at times, too, but he minded them less. Well, he still minded them enough to skip on some of them from time to time, but it was the lesser evil of the monastery’s lifestyle. Attribute that to the teacher: she was gorgeous, quirky and always there for them. If there was one other person he’d have trusted with his life, aside from his parents, it’d have been her; and he was grateful for her to be with the Golden Deers.

He may have also had the tiniest crush on her, but that was a mere detail.

The illness didn’t subdue, to his misfortune. As if the world was out to get him, the lingering feeling had turned into a full-blown headache and he could only describe himself as “intensely lethargic”, if the mess his mind was in had allowed for clear words. Instead, putting together a full sentence and not wanting to immediately sleep for three days was close to impossible, so skipping class it was: he’d just pretend he had been concocting poisons or something in the meantime.

He didn’t like skipping the opportunity to show off to his classmates, but what could he do about it? It wasn’t like he’d be able to pull out anything extraordinary with the pitiful condition he was in. A sneezing archer was ridiculous, he’d only get laughed at, or worried over, and he wanted neither of these options.

But the Professor had her eyes everywhere. She had hands and feet in every room of the monastery, even if she wasn’t conscious of it, and he felt disappointed in himself not to be relied on by her.

And there began a paradox. He missed her company, her eyes, her words, her scent; but he couldn’t let himself be seen by her. In a world where he could only really trust her, he didn’t want to her get concerned over him and call someone else because she was no doctor. He was much better off taking care of this on his own with what knowledge he had and compose with bits and pieces he could gather, and just showing up for her classes. Sitting on a chair and listening to someone couldn’t be a chore, right?

Wrong. As it turned out, he wasn’t made to be a cleric, and everything felt blurry around him. It was weird, fuzzy feeling: the faces of his comrades were unclear, their voices muffled and more and more distant, and his vision was severely hindered. Keeping up the façade and nosing around weren’t options anymore: he had to focus just to remain afloat, it was no time to be sneaking around trying to find new information he had never heard of before.

And he knew his façade had been shattered when the professor asked him to stay behind after a class he was regretting attending.

He was, either lucky or the polar opposite, to have seen the world spin around him in unimaginable speeds, spots invading his sight, passing out right before she could tell him anything.

Not that coming to hadn’t been a bad decision all in itself afterwards. He had managed to get himself landed in the very room he had been avoiding for an entire week: the infirmary. His head was still felt with lead, lolling on a pillow, as his eyes tried to focus on whatever the hell was around him. The summer sunlight passing through the window was doing no wonder to his shivering skin, but that discomfort had nothing on the humiliation that washed over him when he noticed Byleth was sitting next to the bed.

It couldn’t possibly get worse, and she looked pensive, almost lost in thoughts. If he didn’t know better, he’d have supposed she had fallen asleep sitting there all alone, perhaps speaking to a wall. He cleared his throat as to get back into the swift of things and still look cool (there was no way he was letting the situation slip away from him entirely).

“Didn’t see you there, Teach,” he greeted her with a hoarse voice that hurt to use and the least pitiful smile he could pull off. It helped that it was Byleth gracing his eyes and not anyone else, truth be told.

“Ah, you’re awake, Claude,” she broke out of her daydreaming, face obviously bothered by something, undoubtedly him. “How you’re feeling?”

“Take a guess,” he avoided the question with.

“…terrible, then?”

“I wouldn’t have used that word,” he replied as he learned his back against the wall behind it, “but not too far, I suppose.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Byleth closed the book she had held in her hands all along, before putting it aside and tensing suddenly. At least, it seemed sudden: truth be told, his swimming vision and sudden wave of dizziness didn’t help him decipher her body language more accurately than a soldier bleeding to death trying to guess where he was hitting with a desperate sword.

“You’re still burning,” she mumbled under her breath, sounding further than she should have.

“That’s just because I’m hot,” he tried boasting, without any success, and what he could see of her face only confirmed his wittiness wasn’t at its best today.

Sucked to be there, sucked even more to be stuck there.

Right as he tried to muster an argument to let him escape from the infirmary when he knew he was doomed to stay there, he got a glimpse of his mother’s concerned face, before the vision broke off and he was left with his teacher again, his heart having missed a beat and a tear wanting to take shape.

“Is there something wrong?” She asked.”

“No… Nothing, Teach.”

“It… better be that way.”

Her hands nervously grabbed the book back, fingers clutch around it. Typical Byleth, he thought as he felt a small smirk appear on his face, but he coughed before he could even try telling himself he felt better.

“You’re on bed rest for the days to come,” she told him without making eye contact. “Take that as an order from your teacher, please.”

“You’ve noticed?” Nobody would have cared before if he was sick or not.

“Of course I have. I may not be the best professor, but I’m trying. You’re the one who told me a teacher was supposed to be invested in their students, aren’t you?”

A butchered giggle got out of him as he remembered the conversation. “That’s… actually right.”

Byleth crossed her arms, finally facing him again. Her cheeks were a little red, the expression not letting go of its sternness by much.

“The class kind of freaked out when you fainted. I’d appreciate it if you never did that again.”

“Huh… Same,” it was his turn to look away. “That wasn’t an ideal experience.”

“I’d also like it if you took this more seriously… You don’t know how concerned I got for the past week.”

“I know, I know, not that glorious for a future leader, huh?” He coughed again, case on point. “I promise I’ll be a better student, or at least try. I don’t like to see you with such a long face, Teach.”

Almost as much as being confined to bed because of some silly cold.

He sighed.

“…how many days am I supposed to stay here, Teach?”

“I’m not sure, I’d say a couple days… Just the time to see how you’ll be holding up, I also guess.”

“You don’t have actual information?”

She gritted her teeth on the inside, her fingers clutching the book harder.

“I really don’t, Claude. I don’t decide how long people spend in an infirmary.”

She sighed back, as if to respond to his earlier one.

“Moreover, I don’t think we should have this conversation right now. You look exhausted, you should be sleeping. I promise nothing’s going to happen to you here.”

“Yeah, I’m sure of that…”

He felt faint.

“On second thought,” he picked himself back up, “I’m not entirely against this idea… Does it need to be here.”

“I’m afraid that yes.”

Resigned by the circumstances, he shrivelled back into the bed, trying to make the most of what was offered to him (at least, it could only be better than dying on a battlefield without having the occasion to see the end of his project coming to fruition, right?). There was a feeling that he couldn’t win that fight, at least not when he felt this weak (a disgusting thought), so he cancelled on his plans.

Not when he could see the face of his mother on that of his teacher’s just because she happened to glance at him when he was doing less than superb, not when he was aware of how sensitive he’d get at the first opportunity given. That was unsightly to say the least.

Yet, his entire character shifted when he saw Byleth get up. Before he knew it, before he could keep himself from doing such an embarrassing thing, his hand grabbed her wrist and he looked at her with all the intensity he could muster in his eyes. Must have been quite the sight…

“What’s wrong?” She asked in this shy, soft voice of hers that never failed to sooth him.

“Could you… stay?” It hurt to get out of his already sore throat. I think I need to… discuss some things with you…” Wow, even lying was failing on him now! What the hell was he doing!

“I suppose I can always grade papers in this room… It’ll be calmer than the library, in a way.”

The smile she gave him made it sound less like an excuse and more like her intentions.

“I simply would have never expected you to ask that from me, Claude.”

Now was a chance to redeem his credibility.

“I’m always unpredictable,” he proudly tried to state before coughing.

“I also believe you should be resting, instead of, huh… Talking to me.”

Still, she sat back down, and he had a feeling of safety that had been missing from the air around them until now.

“If it takes me being here for you not to pull this again, then I have no choice, don’t I?”

“…most likely…”

Everything turned to black again, and the voices Byleth told him at last didn’t make it to his ears, but they sounded nice nonetheless.

He was out like a candle blown by the wind.

#bad things happen bingo #fire emblem three houses #byleth (fire emblem)#claude von riegan #claudeth #sickfic #hurt comfort #ship: golden starry sky

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