#like take Seafoam for instance

[megarywrites]

*

[aquarii-if]

The gods of Aquarii and Chronos have ruled for billions of years. (Psst! You can take this quiz to find out which god parent you should choose!)

Delano, The God of Time- Delano is the father of all the gods and goddesses, except for Celeste, who is his granddaughter. Nobody knows how Delano came to be, it's just accepted that one day he appeared on Aquarii and decided to create the Mitans. Delano is beloved by the Mitans for his laid-back personality, and being one of the only gods who can actually take a joke. For some reason, Delano decided to give his demigod children clocks for pupils. The hands actually move. Being a father of ten other gods, and a grandfather, Delano is pretty much the perfect dad. He's supportive and caring, but strict when he needs to be. Delano values independence, so he expects his children to be able to complete tasks and challenge themselves without his help, but he'll still be there to protect them if they find themselves in a situation where they can't save themselves. He wants them to be strong, but also smart, don't overexert yourself.

Aquila, The Goddess of Water- Aquila is the eldest of all the gods and goddesses. Delano decided that Aquarii needed a planet, and used a couple of meteors with H2O in them to create a planet entirely made of water. The ocean then began to create a large whirlpool, and Delano used this whirlpool to create Aquila. Aquila is known to be very unpredictable, which causes Aquarii's oceans to be quite dangerous. At one point of the day, the water may be calm and gentle, but in a single instance, it can turn aggressive and furious. However, Aquila is known to be a very kind and supportive mother, so long as her children remain respectful to her. Similarly to how a single wave can throw a surfer off balance, one disrespectful move toward Aquila, and her child can be sent into a world of punishment. Aquila likes to turn her children's pupils into the ocean, their eyes tend to be dark blue with waves gently moving across the water, and you can even see the white seafoam in their eyes.

Mahina, The Goddess of Death- It's quite strange to see that the goddess of death came before the goddess of life, but Mahina has always liked to make her own rules. While Delano was distracted and attempting to create another planet in Aquarii, he wasn't able to stop a meteor from coming in and destroying the planet he created for Aquila. As the waters of the planet completely burned over and the planet exploded, a woman appeared. She giggled at the destruction and demanded that Delano do it again. Originally, Mahina was the goddess of misfortune, but she later switched her position to be the goddess of death when Alula created Mitans. Mahina is an impatient, selfish, and overall terrible person to be around, but she's even worse than her own children. She's known to be quite neglectful and abusive towards them and mostly sees them as weapons and servants to her cause rather than actual people. If they show even a hint of emotion in her presence, she writes them off as weak and practically abandons them until she finds another use for them. Children of Mahina tend to have small black cracks in their skin, and their scleras and pupils are turned completely black.

Aurora, The Goddess of Love and Beauty- Similarly to Mahina, many find it strange that the goddess of love came before the goddess of life. But even gods can feel love and want to be beautiful. Originally, the gods did not have bodies, they were just atoms floating around through space. Delano wanted to feel the ocean, so he decided to attempt to create a form that could feel. His first form can only be described as monstrous, but it was his, and he thought it was beautiful. These emotions caused Aurora to form, and she complimented Delano's form and caused Delano to experience love toward himself. Aurora is known to be an excitable and happy goddess, she adores the Mitans and wants them all to live long lives full of love and beauty. She doesn't believe there is such thing as 'ugly', and can find beauty in practically anything. She's also known to be quite a good mother to her children but can be a bit of a pushover as well.

Alula, The Goddess of Life- It didn't take long for the four gods before Alula began to feel lonely. Delano decided he wanted to create a species that weren't gods, but a species he could take care of. These feelings caused Alula to appear, and she said that she could help him. She caused some islands to appear from under the waves and began to grow trees and other plants on these islands, before she used the land, the water, and the stars to create the Mitans. Similarly to Aurora, Alula cares deeply for her Mitans. She does her best to keep the galaxy healthy and alive and takes care of the Mitans to make sure they live long healthy lives. However, she does have a bias towards her children, who she tends to spoil with an abundance of food and herbs for them to stay alive longer than the average Mitan. But she doesn't do this for nothing, she expects that her children use their powers to help others, and she's known to offer harsh punishments to her children who use their powers for evil.

Ida, The Goddess of Wisdom and Curiosity- Of course, Mitans wouldn't have lasted long without some kind of intelligence, but Delano also wanted them to be independent. He had the Mitans become curious creatures and encouraged them to explore the world to satiate these curiosities. While the Mitans were searching through a forest and discovering the other forms of life there, Ida came and guided them to a clearing that was the perfect land to begin building a civilization. Ida is stoic and withdrawn, preferring to keep to herself. She's not very interactive with Mitans or the other gods, but she is still known to be helpful when it comes to the evolution of Mitans. She's been a great asset to Mitan space travel. Ida is not the most emotionally supportive parent when it comes to her children, but she isn't against emotion like Mahina is, she just isn't good at comforting people. She's quite supportive of her children's personal endeavors and will help lead them on the right path of whatever they wish to accomplish. She believes there are many different forms of intelligence, and whether her children want to be scientists, artists, or warriors, she's right there by their side.

Cielo, The God of Creativity- The Mitans quickly grew bored with the geometric shapes of the world and the many mathematical problems they had to solve just to make a tent. They had creative abilities and wanted a way to demonstrate them. Delano gave them the idea of using the tree sap they used to make syrup and glue to make something they could write on and to use the charcoal for fire as a writing utensil. The Mitans began writing many stories, creating music, and even drawing on this newfound invention. As they did, they heard some music playing from the forest, and there they found Cielo, playing a tune using a stick he carved into a flute. Cielo is a very carefree god who prefers to have fun and play with Mitans rather than attempt to rule over them. Out of the twelve, Cielo is the favorite. Cielo's children tend to have healing powers and can heal others just by playing a simple tune. Cielo encourages his children to be kind and to dream big, along with doing everything they can to achieve these dreams.

Sirius, The God of War- It wasn't long before the Mitans began to see their differences. Originally, these differences were welcomed and encouraged. The Mitans used their differences to further civilization and evolution. But of course, different people tend to butt heads all the time, and that's exactly what happened with the Mitans. Two groups of Mitans began to fight more and more, and eventually, they began to get physical. Another group of Mitans stopped them before anyone got hurt, but they suddenly heard loud clapping. When they turned, Sirius was sitting nearby, encouraging them to keep going. When Sirius was younger, he encouraged Mitans to fight more and even stated that differences shouldn't be welcomed and should be challenged, because everyone should strive to be normal. But over time, he matured and realized that he actually didn't want them to fight. He doesn't encourage peace, though, and he believes that sometimes people have to fight to get along and that fighting can actually help you learn more about someone. Sirius loves his children but has high expectations for them. He expects them to be strong and stick up for themselves, however, he's still kind to his children who lack self-esteem, and he tries to help them build their confidence. Still, he doesn't like slackers or self-pity, he always expects his children to strive to be better.

Anatole, The God of Seasons- At the beginning of Aquarii, the weather was known to be a disaster. Control of the weather was shared between Aquila, Alula, Delano, and Sirius. All four have very conflicting personalities and opinions, which caused them to fight using the weather. Aquila didn't see anything wrong with it raining all the time, while Alula didn't want it to rain because the Mitans couldn't build their civilizations and couldn't protect themselves from her hurricanes. Sirius also didn't like the rain because he couldn't make it hot enough, while Delano didn't want the weather to be too rainy or too sunny, just calm. Alula then would argue that it wasn't challenging enough for the Mitans to just have calm weather all of the time. The excessive change of the weather every day was so intense that the four accidentally caused a flood. When the flood was over, Anatole was protecting the Mitans and a rainbow appeared over their small village. Anatole used to adore the Mitans, the same way Cielo and Alula did. But a couple thousand years ago, he randomly disappeared, and nobody has seen him since. The only reason the Mitans even know he's still alive is because their weather is still normal and predictable, which means Sirius, Aquila, Delano, and Alula still don't have control of it. Anatole has never had any demigod children, so nobody really knows how he would treat them, or even what kind of powers they would have.

Soleil, The God of Emotion- Technically speaking, Soleil and Anatole are twins. Just seconds after the gods and Mitans saw Anatole, Soleil appeared from behind him. Originally, Soleil didn't have a purpose, as his godhood wasn't very obvious when he first appeared. But Delano thought his reactions to things like artwork, the Mitans fighting, the Mitans falling in love, and his extreme empathy towards others were unusual. So Delano appointed him as the god of emotion, and he fit into his role perfectly. Soleil is very hard to predict, one minute he's happy and joyful and bringing hope and love to Aquarii, and the next he's pissed off and causing the gods and the Mitans to fight and wreak havoc on one another. Nobody really knows what makes Soleil mad and what makes him happy, because of this, he's not well-liked among the Mitans or the gods. He's known to be very calm around his children and his brother, Anatole, though. But he's quite controlling, and a lot of Soleil's children tend to be dependent on him, and quite spoiled, or they grow up to resent him and develop a desperate need to be independent.

Donati, The God of Fortune and Wealth- As Mitan civilizations grew bigger and bigger, they began running out of food for everyone, and had to begin splitting it. But they quickly realized they couldn't split everything equally, so they needed a way to differentiate who deserved the bigger pieces. Delano then grabbed some gold from underground and shaped it into a thin circle. The Mitans were unsure of how they were supposed to ration these coins when Donati appeared. He had the Mitans fetch more gold and make more coins, before explaining to them that the best way to ration them is to give more to the ones who work harder than others or have a more important job. Of course, the way money is rationed now in Aquarii is much different than Donati originally intended it to be. It's no shock that Donati loves money and expensive things, and out of all the gods, he's the easiest to please. Just drop an expensive gold piece of jewelry in front of his temple, and you're set for life. Donati is a nice father, so long as you're actually worth something to him. All of his children so far have been nepo babies, Donati doesn't like having children with poor people, or anyone who isn't famous. Donati loves spoiling his children, and he has a hard time saying no when they ask him for something, even if he knows he shouldn't be so lenient with them. Overall, Donati's children are pretty blessed.

Celeste, The Goddess of Consequences- Celeste was originally a demigod, a daughter of Aquila. But Aquila adored her so much and believed Celeste was so powerful that she couldn't bear to send Celeste down to Mahina, and when Celeste died, Aquila took her body up to the god's domain and ascended her to godhood. During her mortal life, Celeste took vengeance on a man after her mortal mother was harmed by him. He came and murdered her in the middle of the night, and Celeste trained for years and did every piece of detective work she could to find him. Once she did, she tortured and brutally murdered him, before doing the same to countless others who committed similar crimes. When Celeste ascended, she became the goddess of consequences, swearing to take revenge on those who did evil. Celeste has a very neutral opinion of gods and Mitans as a whole, believing that whether someone is good or bad is up to the individual, not the species. Celeste has no soft spot nor practices any kind of favoritism for her children, she believes that they are just as capable of bad deeds as anyone else and that they deserve equal punishment. She's not mean to them, though, but she's not the most present mother either.

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Even Dragons Grow Lonely (Aemond Targaryen x Cousin!Targaryen) Part 2

Summary: The capital mourns. Secrets lurk. Blood and fire join as one.

Warnings: Brief mention of bodies.

Word count: 3,870

Part 1 | Part 2

Even Dragons Grow Lonely Part 2

ALYSSA I

The bell toll for many things in King’s Landing. The rejoicing of a birth. The blessing of a wedding. A city under siege. Yet, I knew at this fateful hour of the night that something was wrong.

The city was rarely lively at this time: people from the capital roamed the streets with music and plays to be told of old Kings and their Queens, their dragons and their tales. A different scene to that of the day.

However, amidst the calmness on the streets, inside the Keep, turmoil reigned.

I had been awoken to it, mistaking it for a siege just outside my window, the sounds of cries and shouts, rushed footsteps moving all at once just outside my room, never ceasing.

I rushed out of my bed, running to the door. With a harsh tug on the heavy lead doors, they did not budge, solid and unmoved.

“What is going on out there?” My voice was oddly calm for the sounds of murmured voices and fleeting movement, moving at once just inches from outside my room. “Let me out this instance!”

My mind went to my grandmother; where had she been in this, escorted from her chambers? Whisked away before she could realise what was happening.

Curse the Gods, I should’ve taken the trip back to Dragonstone. To be away from this mess. Why did I accept staying in this city, wishing my sisters goodbye instead of going with them? I tried at the doors again. Once, twice, thrice. Nothing. The movement from outside never stilled, and voices ranged with confusion and panic rising. I did not need to know what had happened, incredibly so late into the night.

My shouts and cries were not answered, my thoughts racing as I imagined what would’ve been accepted of me. Rhaenyra would not be declared Queen, nor would she have been told of the news of her father’s passing. This was a ploy, acted by the Hightowers to win their petty game and seat Aegon as ruler.

Seafoam. Where are you? I wished I had been on her back, flying back to tell of the traitor’s schemes. They all were aware. I fumed. Otto, Alicent, Aegon, Aemond… did he care at all? Even after the kiss we shared?

I remembered his words: the way he caressed me, held me close to him as if it was only me there and nothing else in the world. “I swore it back then, and I swear it to you now. My Alys.”

“Liar.” I seethed. “You fucking liar.” I banged at the doors, screaming louder as my anger flourished, raw and flaming like dragon’s breath. I did not stop until my voice croaked and my fists ached. Liar. Liar. Liar. I had let my feelings loose, allowing them to be used against me like a foolish child.

My rage burnt until it ached in my chest, and I imagined how it would’ve felt to be atop Seafoam, burning the greens in their walls to the ground. How fitting: the Conqueror did it once. I could imagine it now: King’s Landing a smoking ruin, my stepmother atop the seat of the iron throne with the crown on her head.

If I did not burn King’s Landing, certainly Rhaenyra and father.

There were no bells to be rung, no mourners, no cries out. It would all be quietly decided until Aegon had the crown on his head. How would Rhaenyra react? Taking her dragon to the Keep to burn all inside? Her half-siblings, myself and Rhaenys included?

No, she would mourn, but she would not be so cold. A killer was one thing, but a Kinslayer was a fate worse than the Stranger’s touch. I have seen the Stranger more times than I can imagine. No more, not whilst the King is still fresh as a corpse.

All I could do was wait. Wait, and gave a quiet prayer to the Mother, praying for my family and those who would be lost for good.

AEMOND I

“Your father is dead. Aegon is now King.”

He was in the courtyard of the early hour when the news came for him to see his mother, hurried tones that grew muted in the air. Everything was so secretive that it had given no time for the one-eyed Prince to react.

Father is dead. How should he have felt? The man who had given him little to no attention since the time in the cradle, only doting on his eldest daughter from a previous marriage. He and his siblings were discarded for nothing, forgotten and only given the blessings and privileges that were normal for any Prince or Princess of the crown- honour and titles, wealth and riches beyond all of Westeros and Essos.

But not a father’s love.

He had found his mother, who had been more distraught than him; dressed in subdued green and her long hair dishevelled. She had not gotten much sleep, he noted, watching her movements silently. She had been muttering incessantly; how would Helaena know? How would the rivals react? He had been her rock this whole time, the steady calm when she needed to be away from Aegon and his vulgar acts that she and her father hid so very well. He did what he did best: hugging her how any child would, devotedly and silently, before he quietly drew the words he had been thinking since the news came from a dreaded tongue.

“What will we do with Rhaenys? And of Alyssa?”

“They have been kept to their chambers. It would be too risky to allow them out. Not until Aegon’s coronation in the morning.” His mother’s words were quick, hurried and jumbled, “We must, we must anoint him before news reaches Rhaenyra.”

Aegon didn’t deserve to be King, nor did Rhaenyra as Queen. 

His mind was running with thoughts, not for his brother or his family, but for his Alys. What would they do with her if she didn’t do what the King and his grandfather asked? Aemond knew it would’ve been peace and allegiance to his brother, yet he knew it wouldn’t be so easy.

Not with Alyssa, his sweet Alyssa, fierce and stubborn and wilful. He would’ve laughed at the sight, imagining her now: more beast than human in chains. My Alys. Locked and bound like a little bird. It would not suit her well.

“Allow me to visit our guests, mother. I’m sure my cousin would need to know of the death of her uncle.” Aemond suggested, yet Alicent had twisted her head so sharply it looked as if it nearly snapped off. “Lady Alyssa is as wild as her father. No, leave the girl to me. I know of her reputation.”

There is no doubt she would already know. Aemond thought, though, his heart twisted at the mention of the words he spoke against her. The ones he only wanted in hopes of getting the approval from his mother to marry her. In hopes of getting her betrothed to call everything off. Now, it only seeped drama, its ugly head reared and moving from shadow to shadow with rumours for all to whisper.

“No, you must find your sister, and be kind and gentle to her with the news.”

“Of course, mother.”

-

ALYSSA II

My room was lit with light and deadly silent compared to the streets when the Dowager Queen slipped in.

Queen Alicent had looked more like a shell of her past self. The once righteous and confident woman now looked decrepit, exhausted and on the verge of madness. The green of her gown wanned her skin, and she looked sickly in the sight.

“My grandmother, where is she?” My words came as I approached hastily as if outweighing to shove past her and flee. No doubt her guards would be there, and her loyal dog, Criston Cole too. I had heard stories of the wedding to Rhaenyra and my uncle, Laenor; how he slayed his favourite knight and companion, Ser Joffrey Lonmouth like he was a butcher. The thought shuddered through me, imagining what he could do with little to no order from his owner.

“She is safe and fine, worried of you I have heard,” Alicent answered in a slow tone, though I could tell it hid the tiredness in her words. “It is not her who also asks for you, Lady Alyssa.”

I ignored her words, shaken and sure she was talking about a certain second son of hers. “I am fine, though I have not been informed of my uncle’s passing. Tell me, would it be easy to spread the word to the Queen who awaits her birthright?”

Alicent’s face paled visibly. “The King has been anointed in the Dragonpit in front of all those to see. It was your uncle, the King’s wish.”

I laughed too quickly. “Is that what he told you? Whilst you held the poison to his lips?”

Alicent surged towards you, anger flashing in her eyes. “You dare speak of the lies in your stepmother’s court? I do not know what your father whispers on Dragonstone, but I assure you, the King died in peace with those words on his tongue.”

My hands clenched into fists. “It couldn’t have been—Rhaenyra was his heir for the last twenty years.”

“He was adamant in his wishes.”

My head was pounding, my heart stammering in pain in my chest. This couldn’t have been. “What will you have of me then? Strung on the high walls for all to see?”

“That was what my father wished for, for all your family and the Princess,” my heart clenched. “But I have spoken with his Grace and have requested him to listen to my words and heed on the deaths of your family.”

“Requested? More like begged.”

The Queen’s lips flattened. “Until Princess Rhaenyra has sworn allegiance to her half-brother, the true King, you and the Princess Rhaenys will remain here in the Red Keep, protected and watched over, and so too your dragons.”

Protected is a pretty word for held hostage. I mocked. “And if she doesn’t?”

“What do you mean?”

“And when the Princess does not bow down to the King—and we both know she will not— what will you do when she arrives on dragon back, answer me that? Will you apologise with kisses and proclaim her the new ruler?”

Alicent laughed dryly. “It wouldn’t come to that.”

My mouth was dry when I continued to listen to her denial. “War has loomed for the last twenty years, your Grace. Plotting from yourself and your father to have Aegon as King, and the moment when everything falls perfectly in place, that is when the snakes lurch from the tall grass.”

Alicent’s chin jutted as before she spoke carefully. “War will not come to the realm, my lady. The realm has seen peace since the Conciliator. And Viserys made good work of keeping that until his final days. His son will continue what was set in stone.”

“Is that what you tell yourself? When not once had this happened before, to my grandmother when she was discarded for her sex. So too will Rhaenyra.”

Something flashed within her burning eyes, and in that moment, I knew she would say something outlandish. “It is the oddest thing, is it not? Had the Old King accepted the votes for your grandmother to be his next heir and allowed daughters to be as worthy as sons, so too would Laena have joined her as Princess of Dragonstone. And so too you.”

Had it been the warmth of power that surged in my chest? The prospect of being heir and Queen? In another lifetime, had the victors been so grateful? “Jaehaerys did not allow it then, and the men of the realm wouldn’t have either.” I laughed to ease the tension. “My uncle Laenor had always seen a better candidate than my mother.”

“How deemed fit would’ve you been as heir? As dutiful as the Old King? As wise as he or kind as his sister-wife? No doubt, if you had been his daughter and word came of this sin, your right as heir would have been broken, set aside for a younger brother.”

Heat rose so did my anger. “You are accusing me of such a crime? A crime that was so innocent of any child?”

“My son was a child too. I have no doubt it was easy to lure him.” She spoke of it matter-of-factly.

I scoffed. The pious and righteous Alicent. How you have fallen. “Aemond said it to mock my betrothed. We… I forgave him for his japes.”

She did not seem to accept my words. “Had it been fate, had I been as relaxed at accepting Jacaerys and Helaena in matrimony, the same could’ve been with you and Aemond, niece.” She stepped forth until I could feel the heat from her breath. “You have tainted yourself before I could call you my good-daughter.”

My hand twitched with the thought of unfurling a smack to her face, but I refrained when remembering the Kingsguard outside the doors. My fingers shook with wroth.

“Careful, Alicent. I may not be your niece through blood, but I am certainly my uncle’s kin, and certainly my father’s daughter. I do not wish to become an enemy of yours.”

“The court whispers of your acts, Alyssa. Word carries quickest, quicker than a raven.” She warned as if the hatred for me had been replaced with a motherly warning. “The mouths of court hold too many secrets to ruin one’s self. What would happen if the word spread past the capital? Beyond the lands of the realm and even across the Blackwater, towards the island, your betrothed awaits for your hand?”

I didn’t allow her to speak any further, pointing to the door. “Go, I’m sure you must attend to His Grace. He must need his mother in a moment of vulnerability and mourning.”

Alicent opened her mouth to speak but did not answer as she nodded solemnly. “The King will need an answer from you after his coronation. So too from your grandmother.”

“I’m sure he will. But I will not answer to no King. I await our true Queen.”

-

AEMOND II

“That foolish, foolish girl! She speaks more mindlessly than Aegon. How I wish I could—she is all her father, none of the lovely Laena remains in her compared to her sisters.”

Aemond had done what he did best, and in the years of being there as emotional support to his mother, he had grown good at staying silent and listening. And listening he did well.

He would’ve laughed at his cousin’s antics: even from young she had been the same, wild and untamed like the dragons on Dragonstone. He remembered her at her mother’s funeral: braver than her sisters regardless of the salt that she blinked from her eyes.

She had been anywhere but beside her sisters after the burial at sea, and it took most of the day to find her, only for her to be snuck grabbing the reigns of her then-young she-dragon, tears flowing from her eyes in an attempt to leave.

That day, even when her white curls had grown unruly from the wind and smoke, Aemond had thought she had looked beautiful.

No matter how hard she tried, Aemond knew that the girl was persistent to a cause, a fire and little to no salt of the sea in her blood. It had taken some futile attempts for her to release Seafoam, and they spent some rest of their time, beneath the bowels of Driftmark, speaking to one another as if long-lost friends reunited.

‘Maybe, if I fly back to Pentos, she will be there waiting for me.’

He had come to realise how much of his cousin was nothing like his older brother or nephews, nor did she mock him for being dragonless. ‘My mother did not get a dragon until she turned ten-and-five,’ She replied, wide-eyed and hopeful, ‘Vhagar became her mount. A dragon does not claim your worth.’

Aemond remembered the innocent kiss they shared, ignoring their families above them as they shared the peace of their family and house and spilt. In the end, it was a moment Aemond had missed from his troubled youth, not one of teasing and bullying, but of hope and childish purity.

Had his mother not been so blinded by bitterness, he could’ve married in, in their house they suited fit, and flee across the Narrow Sea to be rid of their family’s drama.

No, Aemond would have to make his own fate.

“Mother, allow me to speak with her. She is mourning just as we do,” he knew it had been a lie when only one of them was. “She is trapped here, away from her family and worries for her grandmother. Would it ease your qualms if I saw her?”

His mother dismissed it all the same with incessant worry. “No, the court hears too much, if they heard more—”

“Mother,” he quietly took her by the shoulders, squeezing them kindly. “She is my cousin, my own blood. We haven’t spoken since that day. It was I after all who apologised for offending her and her betrothed.”

Alicent didn’t seem to believe his words from the scepticism written on her face, but she sighed, hugging him to her. “My son, my lovely son. What carnage awaits us?”

“None if we keep the crown away from Rhaenyra.” He spoke adamantly. “Aegon will remain safe here.” And so too, my Alys. “No matter what I shall do to keep the city safe.”

-

He slipped in the cover of night, when the streets of King’s Landing were filled with mostly joy for the new King. The common people never knew of drama, nor the way it kept those trapped and had harboured chaos, yet Aemond could feel it all inside the Keep.

The bodies hung high for all to see: of minor lords and ladies who were foolish to not swear allegiance to Aegon and to stand in defiance for his half-sister instead. How foolish of them. He thought, if they were smart enough, they could’ve kept their lives. And their heads.

He had remembered where to find Alyssa’s room through the long halls, avoiding knights and guards patrolling as he slipped through the cracks of shadows, waiting before continuing his pursuit. He knew it was wrong what he had to do, but all he could think of was Alys. Would she think him a craven for breaking promises? He could not know, but he could only try, for her sake.

Her chambers he found with ease, slipping past through the doors before a guard could notice as they did their routine swaps throughout the night, quietly finding the room alit with light and little to no darkness.

That was when he heard movement, the shifting of clothing and rustling as someone shifted behind him, charging with speed. Even with one good eye, he managed to swing around to capture the person from moving, and apart from the candles in the room ceased to move.

He had forgotten all about the mourning, the deceit and trickery, not when he could feel how his heart felt ruptured and poured liquid fire inside him from the sight in front of him. “Alys.”

“Aemond.”

It was uncertain who had moved first, but in a heartbeat, he had been kissing her with a force that it nearly knocked her off her feet in a fleeting heartbeat. He cradled her, his fingers running through her white curls, tenderly cradling the sides of her face in an embrace he feared would make her break in his grasp.

It was only when he pulled away did he realise she had been trembling, tears biting at the corners of her eyes.

He held her close to keep her steady, and all feelings poured from his heart to hers. “Aemond… I-” She began but he silenced her fondly.

“I know,” he spoke when their lips parted. “But we have no time, we must leave.”

“What?”

“The city is not safe for either of us, and I do not think a war would be good for either of us,” Aemond spoke matter-of-factly, gathering a clock for her to put on, his own cloak guarding his face.

“But what about my grandmother, and Seafoam?”

“Wherever you go, they will follow,” he dragged her to a set of secret stairs from the back of her bedroom wall, ones he was told by Ser Erryk would lead him down to the outskirts of the city, albeit underground. “We must not waste time.”

“You mean to row us to Dragonstone?”

“No, Vhagar awaits by the shores. And we’re not going to Dragonstone yet. I promised you one thing, not before my mother could find out.”

“How—” Alyssa’s words jolted from her mouth, her eyes widening in the realisation of what he meant. “You mean it? Truly?”

“I will wed you, I promised you then. Not before some Velaryon brood of Vaemond’s can get their hands on you.” He pressed a chaste kiss to her lips once more. “We must make haste to Evenfall Hall.”

“Doesn’t House Tarth support your brother?”

“My grandfather believes the Evenstar of Tarth will support your stepmother.” Said Aemond. “He has not heard an answer from them as of yet.”

They didn’t speak for several minutes as they descended into the depths of the underground, dark and damp walls echoed their hurried footsteps as they rushed with certain worry, constantly looking back at themselves in fear of being followed or chased.

Once the caves opened and the banks of the Blackwater rush opened for them, Aemond took Alyssa over to Vhagar, sleeping soundlessly whilst the gulls and water swayed and crashed around her. “Hurry.” He motioned and Alyssa clambered up the rigging that got them up her back into the saddle, the One-eyed Prince hurrying.

Aemond climbed in front, grabbing the reigns as Vhagar began to groan back to life. 

“Sōvētēs, Vhagar.” Aemond gave the command loudly, and the large she-dragon moaned as she rose from the sand covering her. Alyssa clutched to Aemond from behind, not used to the size compared to Seafoam not even half Vhagar’s size.

With a loud cry into the sky, Vhagar set off down the bank, slowly and clambering off the ground as she slowly and awkwardly soared into the skies. The wind whipped up in Alyssa’s face, higher and stronger than any dragon she had been on before, Vhagar could still fly with no issues despite her age and speed.

“What will Rhaenyra think when she hears of us married?” Alyssa muttered once the steadiness of the air had settled.

“It will not be up to her or my mother what they think,” Aemond spoke. “They can keep at their war. I am done playing to everyone’s weaknesses.”

“Husband does have a good ring to it,” Alyssa settled in cuddling into Aemond’s back, wrapping her arms around his slim waist. Aemond gave a chuckle. “Anything for you, wife. Anything to keep you safe.”

-

A/N:

I imagine the end would be Aemond and Alyssa marrying in secrecy and fleeing to somewhere in Essos, like Pentos or Lys-- maybe even for shits and giggles to find Alyssa's great aunt Saera. I wasn't planning on making any more chapters, but I wanted to make a second part of the first chapter. I hope you liked it as much as I did.

[cboffshore]

Taking the phrase body of water to new heights - and depths. This is "The Altruist."

We're at the finale now, and there's only one way to end it.

A fun fact: Nya's sacrifice at the end of Seabound is the only scene in Ninjago to have ever made me sob. Sure, other scenes have come close - Garmadon's sacrifice and the post-Cole's-fall mourning scene come to mind - but Nya's funeral had me weeping like I was there. I think it was because I'd grown up relating to her, and it was a volatile time - I was less than a month away from graduating with my first degree. We were both moving on in our own ways. It was one hell of a hit, honestly. Deep down, I think I knew it wasn't going to last (and then Crystalized rolled into town), but in that moment? Ouch. Even now, knowing what happens after the Seabound finale, the last two episodes still get me. Initially, I condensed the emotional experience into the original version of "The Altruist":

Looking back now, I am happy with this. But - as we've established during this series - I can do better. And I wanted to do better, but I wasn't totally sure how until very recently.

A few months ago, I got my hands on the Water Dragon set. It was a total fluke - when I first tried to buy it (in-person, of course, because that's half the fun) shortly after the Seabound wave release, my local store told me they were sold out and unlikely to get any more, ever. This was last year. Recently, I ended up popping into the store just for fun, and imagine my surprise when I approached the Ninjago shelf and encountered a stack of at least five of the sets. Reader, I have never grabbed a box so quickly. I built it in two sittings, enjoyed the greatest play function of all time (aka using the insanely long tail's momentum as a whip to repeatedly knock the included Kalmaar figure off of the table), and realized that the wing pieces were the inspiration I'd been looking for.

Now might be a good time to confess that this is the first piece I created for this remaster series. Everything else - the KPS, the other revamps and overhauls - followed this. Being based on a preexisting set of ideas and very few visual sources, this process was simple, but there's still a lot going on.

The moment I unboxed the wings in the set, I envisioned a high-low skirt and waterlike train structure. As such, nearly every element of this base design is derived from an overhead shot of the dragon set: palette, the navy velvet skirt overlay and bodice, and the scalloping on the edge of the skirt.

From the original version of "The Altruist," I preserved a few key principles: the general flowiness, the high neckline, and the simplicity of any accessories. I ended up cranking up that last one - there are no shoes, headpiece, or jewelry. All of the focus is on the body to reflect the base mechanics of Nya's sacrifice.

The water motif runs deep in this one for what I hope are obvious reasons: seafoam on the underskirt/leg wrap to suggest waves, glitter on the overskirt to suggest a rushing current, and pale hints of seaweed green for a little contrast.

In terms of character symbolism, the form here does most of the heavy lifting. Another fun fact (this one doesn't involve crying): part of my design philosophy for every outfit I draft is that I ask myself the question, "If given the opportunity, would the base character actually wear this?" and commit if the answer is yes. This is one of the few instances where the answer has been no and I've chosen to continue anyway. Nya, famously, is not into wearing big dresses. This would piss her off. However, the layering here acts as a summary of the slow. tragic loss of self that her sacrifice leads to. The dark blue seafoam leg wrap and gray mesh sleeve, which are the most-buried layers, are components she'd be okay with wearing. The wave-inspired bodycon underneath counts as a dress, sure, but it's certainly closer to most of her default pre-ninja outfits, so it's all right. The massive train and velvet overlay, however, are decidedly not something Nya would be comfortable in. In the series, the only time Nya's ever shown as comfortabe in a giant skirt is when she's literally possessed in the Skybound finale - when she's literally not herself. Here, the giant skirt is overwhelming and acts as a parallel to the way she slowly loses herself over the next year.

It's been wonderful being able to go back and revisit the works that got me started; looking at this remaster series and my originals side-by-side is mindblowing to me. When I entered this fandom 12 years ago, I never envisioned myself doing much in the way of creative engagement. When I tentatively began interacting with the online community and doing my own writing, I thought that was as far as it would go - and now this art is one of my most consistent hobbies. And people like it! That's wild to me. (Side note, I also apparently became so confident in my writing that my enthusiastic tags on AO3 earned me a two-week shadowban on my most recent work - that's gotta mean something for my self-esteem, right?)

I'm about to step away from Tumblr for a little while over winter break. In the meantime, though, I'm working on another mini seasonal series that I hope you'll all adore; I'll also be planning out carrying over my Twitter work. No definite timeline on that yet, sorry - have the last bonus wallpaper instead.

As always, thanks for sticking around! I hope this was as special for you as it was for me.

[northerncm]

Choosing the Perfect Color Palette for Your Bathroom Makeover

Introduction

Embarking on a bathroom renovation is an exciting journey that involves numerous decisions, each contributing to the overall aesthetic and functionality of your space. One crucial decision that often takes center stage is selecting the perfect color palette. In this comprehensive guide, we, at NorthernCM, aim to assist you in transforming your bathroom into a haven of style and comfort.

Understanding the Impact of Color

Setting the Tone with Neutrals

When contemplating a bathroom makeover, it's essential to consider the psychological impact of colors. Neutrals, such as soothing whites and subtle grays, provide a timeless and calming atmosphere. These hues not only create an illusion of space but also serve as an excellent backdrop for other design elements.

Adding a Splash of Tranquility

For those seeking a touch of tranquility in their bathroom oasis, consider incorporating shades of seafoam green or soft aqua blue. These colors evoke a sense of serenity, making your bathroom a peaceful retreat after a long day.

Bold Statements with Jewel Tones

If you're inclined towards bolder choices, jewel tones like deep emerald green or royal sapphire blue can make a powerful statement. These colors infuse a sense of luxury and opulence into the space, elevating the overall aesthetic.

Coordinating Fixtures and Accessories

Harmonizing with Fixtures

A cohesive bathroom design involves harmonizing the color palette with fixtures. For instance, if you opt for a classic white bathtub, complementing it with subtle shades in the surroundings can create a harmonious blend that's visually pleasing.

Accentuating with Accessories

Accessories play a pivotal role in tying the entire design together. Introduce pops of color through towels, rugs, and artwork. This not only adds visual interest but also allows for flexibility in updating the look over time.

Why Choose Us 

At NorthernCM, we understand that your bathroom is more than just a functional space; it's a reflection of your style and personality. When it comes to bathroom renovations in Vaughan, our commitment to excellence sets us apart.

Unparalleled Expertise

With 15 years of experience in the industry, our team boasts unparalleled expertise in bringing bathroom visions to life. From conceptualization to execution, we are dedicated to ensuring every detail aligns with your preferences.

Customized Solutions

No two bathrooms are alike, and we embrace this uniqueness. Our approach involves creating customized solutions that cater to your specific needs, ensuring your renovated bathroom is a true reflection of your lifestyle.

Quality Craftsmanship

At NorthernCM, we prioritize quality craftsmanship. Our skilled artisans and technicians work diligently to transform your vision into reality, using top-notch materials to ensure durability and longevity.

Transparent Communication

We believe in transparency throughout the renovation process. From the initial consultation to project completion, you can expect clear communication, keeping you informed and involved every step of the way.

Conclusion

Choosing the perfect color palette for your bathroom makeover is a significant decision that goes beyond mere aesthetics. It influences the ambiance, mood, and overall experience of the space. Whether you prefer the timeless allure of neutrals or the bold statements of jewel tones, NorthernCM is your trusted partner for bathroom renovations in Vaughan.

If you're ready to embark on a transformative journey for your bathroom, choose us at NorthernCM. Visit northerncm.ca to explore our portfolio and schedule your consultation.

Reference URL :- Choosing the Perfect Color Palette for Your Bathroom Makeover

[mellowqueenbanana]

Just How To Mix And Also Match Furnishings Like A Pro

Content

Can You Blend As Well As Match Furniture Colors?

Can You Blend Sofa Designs?

Things On Etsy To Help You Embellish For Autumn And Also Halloween

If you're considering revamping your house, it's easy to boost any kind of space by mixing different materials and textures to create an eclectic appearance. If you're questioning exactly how to mix and match materials when designing your home, inspiration waits for. By incorporating various textiles, textures, and products, you can develop an appearance that adds a sophisticated visual to your living-room, dining-room, bed room, or any room in your house. Read on to find some useful tips that will certainly motivate you to get creative as you mix and also match a variety of furniture products in your home. For me, one technique to creating an area that feels layered and also resided in is to blend furnishings designs. It may seem like an area will look far better if all the furnishings and also decor is of the one era, but truthfully that can really feel a little presented.

Matching patterned sofas bring advanced fun to this area by Tim Barber Ltd . In this New York City townhouse by KHI Style Group, patterns work to develop a modern atmosphere. Maintain explore various styles and also systems, and you'll ultimately uncover something that satisfies you as well as shows your personal design. Consider utilizing products like flower holders, lamps, artworks & frameworks to add some personality and also nuance within each area of your residence. Carpets, cushions, curtains, accents and also shades are likewise excellent additions to put some complements in a space.

For instance, if your wall surfaces are pastel blue, consider designs as well as furnishings in hues like blue-green, navy, seafoam, or mint. Attempt to avoid vibrant mixes that will clash highly, like red with environment-friendly or purple with orange. Some styles, such as mid-century contemporary, consist of furnishings with tidy, straight lines. It doesn't have to match flawlessly, however yet, it must match to a degree.

Lots of furnishings shops provide the option to purchase matching bedroom sets.

It's simply the color that is duplicated one of the most throughout the furnishings.

If I considered this established as a "whole bundle", I would have missed out on the sofa that I wound up really loving.

For instance, if all of your various other couches have scrolls, you would not want to obtain furniture that does not have them.

That implies following a certain trend like Scandinavian, conventional or mid-century.

Which is to say, take a while consider what you desire out of your space. Envision the themes of shade and design-- as well as recognize the size of furniture and style your room allows for. You can even develop a vision board or attract it out by hand, if you need to!

Can You Mix As Well As Match Furniture Colors?

The most convenient method to make sure that your area will certainly look meaningful, even if it features a selection of designs, is to limit the shade scheme. If the idea of mixing furnishings appears a little overwhelming, keep in mind that you don't need to inequality every piece of furniture in order to produce an intriguing interior. Colors & accents are all points to take into consideration when decorating an area for certain.

If you're dedicated to your color design, consider including an accent wall that matches your accent designs. You should repaint only one wall surface, as a whole space repainted this shade may be way too much. When buying tables, pick one wood finish and polish.

Matching furniture was very easy as well as secure, but sadly, it might likewise quickly come to be dull. Yes, it'll more than likely be intimidating and complex for you to blend as well as match different dining-room furnishings. If natural is what you're trying to find, natural is what you'll ensure by mixing all the furnishings in pairs.

Can You Blend Sofa Designs?

This will be a good selection if you want something that is pleasing to the eye but doesn't match specifically. When selecting furniture, pick pieces that have similar tones so they'll mix with each other well. Begin by selecting one leading shade as well as build your combination around that. When it involves color, try to stick to a couple of main shades and also utilize accent colors moderately. When it pertains to living areas, many individuals assume that the only means to go is big.

For example, try pairing a standard sofa with a modern coffee table. One more method to create communication in an area with a range of various furniture styles is to format the furnishings making use of balance. Consider the lines of the room-- any kind of pathways, vital wall surfaces or the place of the home windows.

You can choose matched furniture, so if you've found a collection that completely fits your preferences as well as spending plan, you can certainly use it for your style. Nonetheless, a raising variety of home owners and also designers are opting for dissimilar furniture. Without a hidden design or trait, your look can suddenly start looking messy as well as messy as opposed to vibrant. Ideally, you must consider what your preferred design is before trying to find living area furnishings. A fascinating instance is the case of accent chairs, which used to be in pairs, typically situated before the sofa.

Dabbling in a pattern or 2 is enjoyable, however diving in head-first is a lot more fascinating. When tastefully selected and matched by professional developers, contrasting patterns damage conventional style borders as well as result in fresh, innovative insides. Before you begin surfing different online shops to locate the furniture you such as, the really initial point that you must do is consider the size of the area. Thus, figure out how large the tables and also chairs must be.

You can either choose a minimalistic design with standard whites as well as great deals of vacuum or you can choose a vintage motif. You can choose one style for the entire home and then play around with different suggestions. Choose from contemporary to modern-day to aesthetic to rustic to any kind of design. When considering what furniture to consist of in your home, there are numerous designs, shades, and also appearances to select from, so your imagination just restricts the possibilities. Shapes can bring your furniture and accent assemble.

Today, more property owners are searching for methods to create a much more diverse appearance by sedie in legno alpe arredi blending and matching different pieces. Understanding just how to mix and also match furnishings for the living room properly will certainly give your residence a wonderfully curated appearance. Take a look at these handy ideas as well as methods to ensure that you can mix as well as match a range of furnishings pieces and decor in a way that will certainly enhance your home. As you consider exactly how to blend as well as match furniture for the living room, start with your wall surface and flooring shades. These tones should be neutral given that it will certainly make things much easier when it's time to generate the actual furnishings and decor.

The furniture as well as décor that you choose can truly aid to establish the state of mind of the living-room. Seek furnishings that includes a similar overall style, like mid-century modern, rustic, or industrial. When every little thing has the exact same overall motif, it's still special yet likewise rather cohesive.

[pokemoncreepypasta]

HM Slave

[STORY SOURCE]

The Generation I games. Definitely not perfect games by any means, but they were fun to play.

It's a shame my old cartridge’s battery has been long since dead. Makes sense, it was a hand-me-down from an older sibling of mine. Between both of our times playing it, it was bound to die sometime.

I was feeling nostalgic and wanted to play it again after so many years...

The trouble was, I had no intention of learning how to replace the battery, or buying a new cartridge. None of that appealed to me.

So, I just took it upon myself to play it without saving. Any time I wanted to stop, I’d just plug it into my charger, and leave it be.

Everything about this run was just for nostalgia. It was nothing personal to me, so I didn't name Red after myself or something.

I wanted to play through this game without getting attached to anything.

The best way to go through without caring? A starter-only run. I chose Charmander, since it was the cover ‘mon, and also my favorite of the three. Not necessarily because it would make the game easier in the long run.

Of course, there’s no way I’d be able to get through with just Charmander.

My plan was to catch a Pokémon specifically to use as an HM slave, so my Charizard wouldn’t be clogged up by useless moves in the long run.

And what better HM slave than the one who can learn them all, right?

In Generation I, you can’t delete moves in any way, so an HM slave was absolutely necessary.

Not like I hated Mew or anything... I just never performed the Mew glitch as a kid and thought that this would be a fun opportunity to try it.

The darned thing did everything within its power to not get caught, blowing through every single one of my PokéBalls that I’d prepared to catch it with. Hey, it wasn’t like I was going to need them later, so I didn’t complain.

I decided to nickname the little thing. I’d heard the term “HM mule” thrown around in place of HM slave, so I thought it would be funny.

Of course, picking the Fire type had its rocky start, with its disadvantage against the first two gym leaders.

I managed to scrape by with scummy tactics, though.

I’d switched to my Abra that I’d caught to perform the Mew glitch, and let Misty knock it out.

After that, I switched to Mewl for the free turn, and then healed my Charmeleon. Then, after Mewl fainted, I got a free switch into Charmeleon.

When the battle was over, I could proudly claim the Cascade Badge.

This was Mewl’s secondary purpose, to be switch fodder for me to heal my starter.

Things were going fine until Mewl learned Cut.

The first instance where Mewl’s “skills” would come into play.

This was a game where you couldn’t use HMs from the overworld, so I went to the menu to manually select it.

“MEWL ignored orders...”

Now, imagine my surprise when my slave wouldn’t listen to orders. I tried a few more times, with the same result.

I attempted to rationalize it, picking my brain for a reason. I assumed that you could not use HM moves while a Pokémon was fainted, but something about that didn’t seem right.

I healed at the Pokémon Center to be safe though.

That seemed to work, so I assumed that I was right and continued to Surge.

Nothing really unusual happened during the fight, but Mewl was knocked out again for a free heal.

On my way out, I had to cut down the tree blocking Surge’s gym again. I was worried for a moment that I had gotten myself stuck, but Mewl cut it down just fine.

I figured the game would let me use HM moves if I would be trapped otherwise.

I went back to the center to heal up my starter, and my stubborn little mule.

(And Abra too, I guess.)

I caught and released a few throwaway Pokémon to obtain Flash, which I immediately taught to Mewl.

I made my way to Rock Tunnel.

”MEWL won’t obey!”

I was frustratingly met with this. It was fully healed, I couldn't understand why it was disobeying. I wondered if it was some sort of consequence from having an illegitimate Mew...

I kept trying and trying, but no matter what, it wouldn’t light the cave.

I was sure this little bugger didn’t want to wander around in the dark just as much as me, so I really couldn’t figure out what was wrong.

I tried checking its summary, to which its blank, neutral expression had changed to something more... defiant?

I didn't know what kind of sick joke Morimoto was pulling on me by programming Mew to be this way, but I wasn’t having any of it.

It dawned on me that Abra could also learn Flash, so I just let Mewl be prissy and lit up the cave with Abra.

I somewhat regretted my choice to teach Mewl Flash. If I had known it was going to act like this, I would have just taught it Fly instead…

I decided to go ahead and skip getting Fly, since Charizard couldn't learn it anyway.

Thankfully, I made it out of Rock Tunnel just fine.

Charizard made Erika’s gym a total joke, so I didn’t even need Mewl as fodder for this fight.

The whole game was going fine so far up to Fuchsia City, and I had completely forgotten about Mewl’s disobedience by now.

I had obtained its final two moves, so I booted the HMs up and slapped them onto it.

Of course, to use Surf and progress, I had to face off against Koga.

Things were going well up until Charizard couldn’t deal with Koga’s last Pokémon.

I sent in Mewl to heal my Charizard.

”Enemy WEEZING used SLUDGE!”

“MEWL ENDURED the hit!”

Strangely, when Weezing attacked Mewl, it didn’t get knocked out in one hit like it was meant to. Instead, it stayed in the field.

While I wanted to question it at the time, I just used a Hyper Potion on my Charizard to get it back to full.

”Enemy WEEZING used SMOG!” 

“MEWL ENDURED the hit!”

 Sure enough, I wasn’t dreaming. Mewl was somehow surviving all of Koga’s attacks. Normally that would be pretty cool, except for the fact that Mewl was level 7 and therefore effectively worthless in this fight.

I had to wait for it to faint to switch to Charizard, but Mewl kept surviving every hit that was thrown at it.

”Enemy WEEZING used TOXIC!”

“MEWL”s hurt by poison!”

“MEWL fainted!”

Thankfully, it eventually became poisoned and went down, so I could send in Charizard to finish the job.

I made quick work of Koga and his Weezing after that and made my way out of the Gym.

But weirdly, as I was leaving, I couldn’t help but notice the screen flashing as if a Pokémon in my party was still poisoned.

I checked my party again to see what was up.

It seemed like Mew had a custom sprite for being knocked out that I never noticed before. I didn't even know if that was a thing.

But it was definitely knocked out, for sure, so I brushed it off as some sort of bug.

I figured if anything would fix the poison glitch, it’d be healing at the Pokémon Center.

”If you drive your POKéMON too hard, they’ll dislike you.”  

”Please take better care of your POKéMON.” 

 I was confused at this text. Was this dialogue hidden for players like me who let their Pokémon faint over and over? Whatever it is, I have never seen it before.

”We hope to see you again!” 

The nurse went back to her chipper disposition afterwards though, so I figured I should just be on my merry way as well.

I checked up on Mewl to see how it was doing now.

It seemed like the nurse just haphazardly patched it up. Mewl’s expression still looked tense, but I hoped that didn’t mean it wouldn’t use its new HM moves.

I made a quick note to take down Giovanni at Silph Co. and Sabrina. My Charizard was actually getting a bit over-leveled, so I swept through without needing to use Mewl to heal during battles at all.

I decided that on my way to Blaine, I would fall back on my training a bit.

I back-tracked over to Fuchsia City since it was faster than going all the way back to Pallet Town.

I made my way down by the Fuchsia coast and hoped quietly that Mewl would let me Surf to Cinnabar.

Thankfully it seemed like the 1’4 cat was perfectly fine with me riding on its back, with no defiance at all. I felt confident, like I was finally getting enough gym badges to make it obey.

I'd even gotten it to listen when I needed it to use Strength in the Seafoam Islands. Things were really looking up.

I’d finally hit land and was ready to storm the Cinnabar Mansion and claim Blaine’s badge.

I was feeling pretty confident with my Charizard’s HP and level that I wanted to take on the Gym without healing at the Pokémon Center.

I had plenty of Potions and Revives in case of emergency, anyway.

All of the quiz questions were normal, except... This bizarre one. 

“You treat all your POKéMON fairly?”

Though it had been several years since I played this game, something felt off about it, like it wasn’t supposed to be there.

I half-heartedly answered yes, despite knowing it was untrue. My logic was, at the very least, that even though I as a player didn’t care about these Pokémon, maybe Red did.

”Sorry! Bad call!”

The buzzer went off and I was harassed by a trainer. I was appalled... Was the game really criticizing me as a player?

Had I hit some sort of secret flag after making Mewl faint so much? I couldn't understand what was happening.

I didn’t give myself much time to think about it though, so I healed up my Charizard with some Potions and took on Blaine.

Charizard had fainted again, so I left it up to Mewl.

I healed up my Charizard and expected Mewl to hang on like before, but it just went down with no resistance.

With my seventh gym badge in hand, I was pretty happy with my run so far. A couple more hours in and I’d be done, I thought.

I was ready to Surf north towards Pallet Town and claim my eighth and final badge.

“MEWL ignored orders!”

But I received a friendly reminder.

I had forgotten that Mewl didn’t like using HMs without being healed. I really didn’t feel like taking it to the Pokémon Center though, so I just carelessly threw a Revive at it.

Hoping that the Revive would be good enough to satisfy it and let me ride on it again, I mashed through text a few times to see if I could brute-force it to listen.

”MEWL won’t obey!”

”MEWL turned away!”

It kept bombarding me with the same defiant messages over and over, until...

“MEWL hates you.”

I was caught off-guard. This text didn’t have the same energy as the others, lacking an exclamation point. It sounded like flat, cold, genuine hatred.

I pressed A again, and attempted to order another Surf. Not necessarily because I wanted it to Surf now, but more out of a morbid fascination with such intense text.

“MEWL used instead, FLASH!”

Suddenly, like in a battle, the screen lit up totally white.

I was booted out of the party screen afterwards, and immediately noticed a distinct lack of an items menu. Had Mewl taken it from me?

Closing out of the menu, I spoke to the Pokémon now standing next to me, knowing exactly who it was supposed to be.

”Mew!”

Mew’s cry played. I already knew it.

“MEWL hacked away with CUT!”

I flinched, horrified at the thought of Mewl directly attacking my trainer.

”HM01 was destroyed!”

But then I realized, it wasn't that...

”HM03 was destroyed!” 

 Instead, Mewl had stolen my items...

”HM04 was destroyed!” 

 … And was proceeding to destroy each of my HMs, one by one.

”HM05 was destroyed!” 

 After destroying HM05, Mewl’s sprite disappeared; presumably back into its PokéBall.

I was exasperated, but quick on my wits.

I still had Fuchsia City's Pokémon Center as my last saved location, meaning I could use Abra to Teleport back to the mainland.

I was smug, thinking I'd found a loophole around Mewl's attempts to sabotage me.

”ABRA used TELEPORT!”

“ABRA ran away!”

I panicked, to say the least. I frantically scrolled around my party page. How could Abra have disappeared like that? I wasn't going to accept Mewl being my only ride back to Pallet, it was impossible.

I desperately went to the PC inside the Pokémon Center, in some vain hope that maybe Abra had just been sent there somehow.

”MEWL used STRENGTH.”

“The PC was destroyed!”

I couldn't believe it.

Mewl had gone full rogue.

I suddenly had to come to grips with the horrifying realization...

I was trapped in Cinnabar with no way off.

I went through what I can only describe as the five stages of grief.

Stage 1 - Denial

I scoured the internet for any other Pokémon in Cinnabar Mansion that I could use to escape the island.

I quickly remembered that Mewl had already destroyed my HMs and stolen my items, and realized I couldn’t catch anything.

But I did have one more plan.

If I could knock out Charizard and Mewl, I could be sent back to Fuchsia. It would take a bit of work for Charizard to eventually faint, but I was prepared to try anything.

”CHARIZARD ran away!”

But I couldn’t be prepared for my Charizard running away.

I was so shocked that I didn’t even want to send in Mewl, I just said no and fled the battle.

I fell into absolute despair. Mewl had not only ruined my chance of getting off the island, but now, even if I did, what would I do without the only Pokémon I’d been raising?

Stage 2 - Anger

I’d never thought malicious thoughts about this Mew before, just casual indifference and sometimes mild frustration. But I can’t say that I didn’t want some payback towards this Mew for wasting several perfectly good hours of my life.

I sadistically thought about how I would make it faint, and then how I would torture it over, and over, making it repeatedly faint until maybe it would measure up to Charizard’s strength.

“MEWL ENDURED the hit!” 

I couldn't stop myself from shouting "NO."

Despite Mewl’s apparent injuries, it hung on with one HP.

Again, and again, no matter what I did. No matter what Pokémon I faced.

It seemed like nothing could poison it, burn it, kill it.

Then, it dawned on me…

Maybe this was what Mewl wanted all along?

Stage 3 - Bargaining

Mewl’s stubbornness and special ability that made it unable to faint...

It took Mewl a long time to faint its first real opponent, due to its low level, but in the end, it grew.

I checked Mewl’s summary for some sort of sign, anything at all, that this was what I was supposed to be doing. It stared at me with its vacant, unreadable expression...

Perhaps it was shocked I had battled with it? Whatever the case, it wasn’t staring at me with hostility anymore...

So it was silently agreed between us, then. Mewl and I, we did our first ever grinding session.

It took a few hours, but Mewl’s level was growing steadily. Things seemed to be going well, until...

We ran into our first wild Ditto.

I thought it was strange, having not found a Ditto for all this time I'd spent in Cinnabar Mansion, but I didn’t see any trouble with fighting it, so I just let the battle progress.

Stage 4 - Depression

The Ditto transformed into Mewl, who appeared to have a sad expression on its face.

I quickly pulled out of the battle screen and into my party to see if something had changed with Mewl.

I checked to see Mewl, who had that same sad expression as the Ditto. Its status had changed from "OK" to a worrying "...".

I knew something was wrong, so I fled from that battle and every battle afterwards.

Though I had avoided it before on hopes of somehow escaping to Fuchsia City, I gave it all up to heal Mewl, who had risked life and limb to impress me.

After it was healed, I checked its summary again.

Though it had fully healed, it still had that depressed look in its eyes. I couldn’t understand want it wanted. I didn’t know what it needed.

But I realized that it was getting pretty late, and I wanted to get to sleep soon. I would have to leave the game on, and leave Mewl behind.

That was when it hit me.

Could it be possible that Mewl knew I hadn’t saved? Did Mewl somehow understand that no matter if I saved or didn’t save, it would disappear when I turned the game off?

I hadn’t really thought about it until now, but Mewl was more special than any other Pokémon I’d ever played with.

And if I turned the game off, it would disappear forever.

I didn’t know how to feel about that.

I went out of the Pokémon Center to reflect about this with Mewl.

I still wanted to finish the adventure with it, if it would let me.

Stage 5 - Acceptance

“MEWL doesn’t want to go.”

That was okay, I thought.

I realized that even if I went with Mewl to the Pokémon League, and won, then the game would return to the title screen and not save my progress.

Maybe Mewl understood that, too.

So then we were at an impasse, together on Cinnabar Island.

I didn’t know what to do. Even if this Mew was special, even if I genuinely believed it was real, I couldn’t just keep my GameBoy on forever. What would anyone else think?

I decided that for the first time in this entire run, I wanted to save my game. I didn't want to turn it off just yet, but at least save, as some sort of precautionary measure.

I hoped, that in the event the GameBoy turned off for whatever reason, a miracle would occur.

”Would you like to SAVE your MEW?”

It seemed that the game knew exactly what my heart wanted, and I selected yes.

Then, all of a sudden, my game turned off. Not due to low battery or anything, but it just turned off.

I panicked for a moment, and quickly switched the game back on.

It was gone. The save file was gone.

Or, rather, it was never there to begin with.

[uchihasakurawrites]

Of T-Shirts and Monsoons

Rating: T for language

Summary: In which Sasuke proposes to a fuming Sakura in a cave in the middle of Rain. 

Word Count: 2,243

A/N: Hello everyone! It’s been about seven years since I last wrote for this fandom (or wrote creatively at all, really). This random idea popped into my head while I was watching old SasuSaku AMVs, and I just thought I’d go for it! I have a few ideas for longer SasuSaku fics, so I wanted to test out a few drabbles/oneshots to shake off some of the rust since it’s been a while. Let me know what you think! Also feel free to send prompts my way. This was done in about an hour, but I hope you enjoy~

Cross posted on Ao3 and Fanfiction.net

___________________________________

Sakura was fuming as she stomped into the cave, ignoring Sasuke’s wary gaze as she slung her pack to the ground with enough force to create fine cracks in the stone beneath it. She stripped out of her blood-and-rain soaked jonin vest and tossed it equally as haphazardly to the side, not sparing a glance to where it landed with a decided thwack. Sasuke rubbed the bridge of his nose and made quick work of using a small katon to set a small fire in the back of the cave. Typically, it wouldn’t be worth the risk of attracting unwanted attention, but he figured the benefits of not having to deal with an angry and cold Sakura were decidedly worth dispatching any rogues that were foolish enough to have followed them. Not that he and Sakura had left any of the nin in a state to pursue them, he thought with a smirk.

“Stupid Rain with it’s stupid freak monsoons and stupid rogue nin who ambush anything that fucking moves through their ‘territory.’ Sure, take out the fact that you’re bored in a time of peace out on civilians who can’t fight back.”

The clang of Sakura’s weapons pouch against the cave wall punctuated her impatience with the recent trend of rogue bands staking claim to smaller civilian towns and merchant paths. They’d managed to defend three different merchant caravans and liberated two villages from rogues in the past month and a half alone. She didn’t mind helping the civilians, of course, but why couldn’t these rogues get it through their skulls that this was peace time? She just wanted a little peace, dammit!

Sasuke crouched down next to his own pack to dig out a spare change of clothes. After just over a year and a half of traveling together, he was more than used to Sakura’s flinty temper and knew she would tire herself out soon. Best to keep out of it.

Sakura dropped to the ground to hunt for a clean shirt of her own. She pulled out shirt after shirt, noting with growing frustration that each was either covered in blood, lacerations, or sand. If she ever saw another grain of sand, it would be far too soon. A growl tore from the back of her throat.

“Stupid Suna with it’s stupid sand. Why the hell can’t some other village have poison experts so I don’t have to trudge through the damned desert just to collaborate on our new Inter-Village Poison Center? Who the fuck even came up with that idea?” Sasuke sent her a pointed look, knowing full well that she had fully supported Shizune’s initiative, which Sakura missed. “And why the hell can’t an epidemic break out in, I don’t know, the Land of Tea and not the middle of fucking Rain? At least then-”

Sakura nearly choked when she glanced up  just in time to see Sasuke pull off his rain-soaked shirt and wring it out. No matter how long they spent together or how intimate they became, Sakura’s mind never failed to short-circuit at the sight of Sasuke’s bare skin. It didn’t matter where or how much - one glimpse, and her mind checked out. Although he would never express it outright, Sakura surmised that Sasuke knew exactly what his body did to her and used it to his advantage - say, when he was trying to distract her from a particularly troublesome conversation or train of thought.

It worked more often then she cared to admit.

Her sharp eyes caught the way Sasuke shifted his weight away from his left side as he moved to pull on a fresh shirt - crisp black with the Uchiha fan emblazoned proudly on the back. After a brief moment admiring his figure before it was hidden by the fabric, Sakura frowned at the inflammation beginning to flare up around his ankle. She cleared her throat and motioned for him to come over, tirade momentarily forgotten. Kami knows Sasuke would never admit that he had lost his footing for a moment during their earlier confrontation, unused to fighting on branches that had been rotted through from near-constant rain, and actually ask her to heal him. He’d become much more willing to allow her to heal him after a particularly difficult fight, but it was rare for him to outright ask for her assistance. She usually offered before he needed to.

She met his withering look with a hard gaze of her own.

“You,” she jabbed a finger in his direction, and he raised a brow, “stop being a stubborn ass and sit.” She motioned to the spot next to her with a touch more force than necessary. Sasuke didn’t budge and continued to ruffle through his pack. Sakura’s eyes narrowed.

“Sasuke-kun, --”

With a sigh, Sasuke fixed Sakura with a stern look and tossed her one of his extra shirts before coming to sit next to her. Laying a hand on Sakura’s shoulder, he formed the tiger seal to send a small katon over her skin to dry off the remnants of water that clung to her skin and hair. His jaw tightened at the blue-purple tint her lips had begun to take in the chill. A smile worked its way onto Sakura’s face when she realized the telltale signs of concern in his posture as he hovered near her.

“Change, Sakura. Then heal.”

His gaze dropped pointedly below her chin, and Sakura’s cheeks heated as she followed his eyes and realized her state of undress. Over the course of her rant, she had stripped down to her chest bindings and fitted shorts. Although Sasuke had seen her in far less, embarrassment washed through her as she scrambled to unfold the shirt he had tossed to her.

Her demeanor shifted when she went to slip it on. Sasuke glanced over when he felt Sakura stiffen at his side, brow furrowing when he noted the pensive look on Sakura’s features. Her eyes, previously a battle-worn seafoam green, took on a deeper, more thoughtful jade. She snagged her lip between her teeth, and Sasuke glanced down to see her fingers gently tracing the outline of the Uchiha fan printed on the back of the shirt.

 Spine going rigid, Sasuke wracked his brain for the other instances Sakura had borrowed clothes from his pack - a shirt here, a poncho there. Her hands-on approach to fighting combined with the blood, bile, and poison that came with being a medic meant that her clothes tended to ruin more quickly than his. The sight of her rummaging through his pack for a spare change of clothes was a familiar one. What he hadn’t noticed, however, was that Sakura was always careful to select one of the few articles of clothing he carried that didn’t carry his clan’s symbol. He kept a few basics on hand just in case they needed to be incognito through a town that was still hostile towards the Leaf.

His mind jumped to the easiest explanation he could think of for her hesitation: she was ashamed. Not that he blamed her for wanting to distance herself from his clan’s marred legacy, but the very thought lit a fire in his veins that had him pulling away from her. Anger and bitterness combined with a pang of disappointment that he didn’t particularly want to address.

Sakura started, broken from her thoughts as she took note of Sasuke’s sudden change in demeanor. It was a testament to the time she had spent becoming attuned to the small giveaways of Sasuke’s emotions that she pieced two-and-two together. His flinty eyes shifted between the shirt in her hands and the cave wall as he refused to look at her.

With another quiet smile, Sakura carefully folded the shirt, laid it on top of her pack, and moved to stand next to Sasuke. She could feel some of the tension leave him when her shoulder brushed his, but his eyes remained stony.

“Sasuke-kun.” She waited for a moment before his gaze flickered down to hers, hoping that the softness in her own gaze would convey whatever she wasn’t able to in words. She placed a gentle hand on his bicep, hoping to ground him as she mulled over her words. Talking about the Uchiha Clan with Sasuke took a delicate touch, a touch she had learned after a short but explosive period of trial and error.

“Sasuke-kun, your clan’s history has nothing to do with why I won’t wear the Uchiha fan. Your legacy is a part of you, and I love you. All of you. Even the darkest parts that you don’t think love can reach. You know I’m damn persistent, and if I can wait this long to get you to accept that I love you, then I can wait as long as you need me to before you accept that that includes everything about you.”

She took a deep breath, averting her own eyes now that he had fixed her with an unreadable gaze of his own.

“Even if you won’t outright admit it, I know that your clan is precious to you. I’ve watched you carve the clan’s symbol into your kunai every time you replenish your stock. And I’m not an Uchiha, Sasuke-kun, so wearing the clan’s symbol - even casually like this, just feels like I’m not giving it the honor it deserves.”

Silence. Sakura was used to silence from Sasuke, and had learned how to interpret his different silences. There were the more distraught, brooding ones that required a bright, calming touch and the occasional pouty silence after she had smiled just a touch too openly at a flirty cashier; the explosive silences that she usually drew him into a spar during to release some energy and the frustrated, yet concerned silence when he thought she was too reckless in a battle.

This seemed to be one of his thoughtful silences - one that she didn’t feel she should interrupt. Noting with no small amount of satisfaction that most of the rigidity had melted away from his body, Sakura moved to turn back towards her pack.

“As for clothes, I’m sure I can put together something for tonight, so don’t worry about me. I’m pretty sure there’s a little merchant town not to far from here that we can stop by tomorrow to stock up on some new -”

Sakura swallowed her words as a cool hand enclosed her wrist and tugged her back. Her eyes widened when she found herself pressed to Sasuke’s chest with his arms wrapped tightly around her back. While Sakura was no stranger to small acts of affection from Sasuke - a forehead poke here and a sleepy  arm around her waist there - it was incredibly rare for him to initiate a hug. In fact, she was pretty sure she could count the number of times he had hugged her on one hand.

“Sa-Sasuke-kun?”

He huffed into her hair, something between a laugh or a sigh - she couldn’t quite tell. So she simply decided to remain quiet, tracing her fingertips along his back as she waited for him to voice his thoughts. She swore Sasuke Uchiha was going to be the death of her when he spoke again and she quite literally choked.

“Marry me.”

The words were so quiet that Sakura nearly convinced herself that they were a figment of her imagination. A statement, not a request. She pulled back slightly, wide eyes meeting Sasuke’s steady gaze.

“W-What?”

Sakura winced as soon as she asked the question, knowing Sasuke loathed repeating himself (though it was a well-kept secret that Sasuke didn’t mind repeating himself for her and her alone). But surely he couldn’t hold it against her given the situation. He simply sighed at her request, arching a brow that said he knew that she had clearly heard him yet repeated himself anyways.

“Marry me and wear the damn shirt, Sakura.”

When she continued to stand in front of him with nothing more than a shocked stare, Sasuke huffed again and half-rolled his eyes in a rare display of amusement. Tonight seemed to be a night for rare occasions, it seemed.

Sidestepping Sakura’s frozen form, he retrieved his spare shirt from its place on Sakura’s pack, unfolded it, and gently worked it over her head. A warm glow replaced the earlier fire in his veins as Sakura came to and allowed her arms to be guided into the shirt’s sleeves.

Sasuke spent a minute admiring the fan on her back, pride burning in his chest at the thought of Sakura as the Uchiha matriarch. A small part of him idly wondered if his mother would be pleased to see her position passed on to Sakura. He liked to think she would.

Sakura turned towards him, feeling a tug in her chest at the vulnerability in Sasuke’s expression. She wasn’t sure what kind of proposal she had expected from Sasuke - hell, she hadn’t even been certain she should expect one at all. At least, not for a while. She certainly hadn’t imagined one of the happiest moments of her life to come in the middle of a freezing cave in Rain after treating a minor epidemic, getting ambushed by a plucky squad of overambitious rogue nin, and nearly drowning in a monsoon.

So yes, she hadn’t expected a proposal to come in this type of situation, but she had known her answer to this question for nearly a decade.

“Yes.”

[amadwomanrambles]

Hi! Please can i request hux and the reader competing on sniping simulations? A bit of teasing an uptight hux is always fun

A/N: I got this before I made the rest of the storyline, but I was able to fit it in! Thank you so much for this request, I do hope you like how I set it up. 

Armitage had been alone at the shooting range all day, working on his marksmanship. He could have been using his newly-acquired pistol he had made custom, but he preferred the sniper rifle in this instance. Seafoam green hues watched the moving target as he held the rifle steady, imagining the target as Kylo Ren. Pulling the trigger, laser fire emitted from the weapon and hitting the target right in the head. 

Perfect shot. 

A smirk grew on his face as we looked at his handiwork, wishing it really happened. Kylo was a much bigger thorn in his side than before, but after that night with you he felt like he had a purpose again. He was going to prove to everyone that he was worthy of his title, to rule the Galaxy and with you by his side. 

“Do I want to know who that target was?” 

Armitage turned his head to see you there, arms crossed with a pretty little smirk on your face. A grin pulled at the corner of his mouth before he looked forward again, a new target set up for another round.

“Oh I think you know exactly who that is,” he said, looking back through the scope.

You had spent all day in meetings with the council; all boring in your opinion. You missed the days at the academy when it had been spent studying and simulations much like the one Hux was doing. The target moved faster, making it more difficult for Armitage to focus. 

His breathing quickened as he was starting to grow more nervous. Before he could pull the trigger, laser fire shot past his head and hit the target.

He lowered the rifle, upset that he didn’t get to the target first. Turning back around, he saw that you had picked up a weapon and fired upon it yourself, a grin plastered on your face. 

“Well, that’s not fair, Admiral,” Armitage said with a smirk.

Lowering your weapon, you gave a small shrug, “You take too long, ‘Tidge. Take the shot as soon as you see the opening,” 

Armitage slowly walked up to you, making you back up against the wall. You blinked a few times, surprised that he was even making such a bold move in a public place. “And what exactly do you think you’re doing?” you asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Taking my shot …”

Armitage leaned in and pressed his lips firmly against yours, his hands resting at your hips. Luckily there was no one else in the shooting range to see the scandalous scene, otherwise the both of you would be in heaps of trouble. You let out a soft moan as you kissed him back, your hands resting on his chest. 

After a few moments you broke the kiss to catch your breath, resting your forehead against his. “You know … I didn’t mean it … like that …” you said, panting.  

He smirked as he took a step back, giving space for the both of you to smooth out your uniforms, “Oh I know, but I couldn’t help myself,”

You smiled as you shook your head, bringing a hand to cup his cheek, “I have to go. I’ll catch you later,” He watched you walk away, enjoying the sight of your hips swaying.

Armitage knew that he couldn’t get away with something like that anywhere else, but he was glad that he did.

[make-it-mavis]

Homesick (Entry #37)

(cw: alcohol mention, fire) ----------

01/25/88   11:53 PM

Hey.

I wish I could say that I walked away from that heated encounter at therapy with little to no after effects. That I marched on back to my game, got some sleep, and continued on my road to recovery without missing a beat. I wish I could say that.

But that would just be unrealistic. 

When I went back to my game after the whole thing with Worluk, I told my cousin what happened. He reacted just about the same as I’d expected him to. Horrified, relieved I was safe, glad justice was served before she could hurt anyone else. He also told me how proud he was of me for not using violence to solve my problem. The praise felt a little misplaced, given how much I did actually fantasize about ripping her to shreds, and I told him that. But that just made him all the prouder, he said. It was the fact that, unlike so many past instances, I didn’t act on those impulses.

It was a pretty big deal for me. But I still didn’t quite know how to accept his pride. That much hadn’t changed.

I felt pretty sick, so I turned in kind of early, but I didn’t sleep well. Some of the old confusing flashbacks were eating at me again. I’d be nearly asleep, just dipping into dreamspace when phantom memories of fire and explosions and echoing screams would jolt me awake. I hadn’t had visions like those in a while, but I also hadn’t been quite that sober in a while.

The next morning carried on like any other at first, apart from me being quieter than I’d normally be. Fix-it had his breakfast and morning coffee. He yammered at me for a little bit. Some Nicelanders showed up, and then he yammered at them for a little bit. Then, after wishing me a good day, he left with the others, and the arcade opened.

I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. But since painting had been so soothing before, I figured I’d try that. It certainly couldn’t hurt. I hauled out the tarp and Fix-it’s paints and papers. I sat cross-legged by the blank sheet for a while, feeling dry of creativity. But I forced myself to start anyway, trying to let my thoughts and feelings fall freely and paint along to them.

What was I feeling, anyway?

I took a deep breath and tried to meditate on that question as I painted.

Grey. Unsure. Numb. Lukewarm. I wanted to be happy about Worluk being arrested. It should have been closure on her traumatic chapter of my life. But I just wasn’t satisfied. What she had said about her sister’s ‘burning body’ just opened up too much mystery for me to put her out of my mind and move on. It wasn’t really the idea of me jumping over a burning sprite to get to you that was so disturbing. It was just the fact that I couldn’t remember it. I kept trying to brush it off and say that Worluk was just some raving lunatic spouting nonsense. But what if she wasn’t?

White. Blank. Cold. Lost. I couldn’t stand not remembering that day. Not remembering how you died. Not knowing your whole story. Out of anyone, I should have been the one to know. No one was closer to you than me. I was your friend. Best friend. Or something else entirely.

Yellow. Confused. Nauseous. Anxious. 

I paused. Three colors splotched the canvas in aimless, abstract shapes. Part of me almost laughed, but in a really joyless way. This palette I’d been subconsciously putting together out of distress reminded me of something that used to make me happy. It was just missing one color.

Red. Demanding. Arrogant. Bold.

You.

I’d almost painted you by accident. Not in the right shapes, but the right colors were there. Some of them, anyway. Just the surface colors, the ones I could see on your pixels. Just seeing all of them together was enough to put a pang of what I could only describe as ‘miserable affection’ in my chest. It suddenly felt like it had been so long since I even took the time to think about you. I’d been so occupied with counselling, I guess I just didn’t want to give myself the chance to miss you too much and derail things.

But I was taking a break from counselling. I was alone. I had nothing but time to spend remembering you. And whether I thought it was a good idea or not, it was happening. You poured down on my mind like heavy rain.

So, without really thinking about what I was doing, I kept painting with every color you inspired in me. 

Black for your smoky, metallic scent. Red-Violet for your overheated body. Sienna for your voice. Salmon for your genuine, high-pitched laugh. It did not take long for me to run out of space. I didn’t care. I kept painting. I smeared heaping gobs of color until the paper was slathered with glistening, muddy slime that was likely too thick to dry. 

Eventually, I stopped. I could have just gotten another sheet of paper, but I felt too heavy to stand. I just sat there, staring at my gloves that were speckled with tiny flecks of paint. My heart, I finally noticed, had been pounding. I’d been running for so long from how I felt when I remembered you. The hurt. The betrayal. The moments of resentment. Worst of all were the moments when I simply, truly missed you.

This was one of those moments. 

I wish that I could say that by that point, I’d learned to stop running away. That I didn’t have it in me anymore. I’d like to say that I just went limp and sank into the feeling until it inevitably either drowned me or I learned to breathe through it. But I wasn’t ready to believe I could do that. I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t trust reality to remain sound. But you were raining on me whether I chose it or not. I was neck-deep, floundering.

And then the desperation, as it has so often done, turned me a little strange.

The first thing I did was remove my gloves, and then my smock. It felt like all else in the world went quiet as I wet my fingers with a rainbow of paint. Keep it together, I told myself. Deep breaths. It was just color. All feelings, all memories, are just color. And color is choice. I could choose not to hurt over you if I just redirected. If I took every color that you were not, and wore them like armor to protect myself from all thoughts of you.

So I just… painted myself. 

There were too many shades to rightly recall. Teal, bronze, vermillion, lavender, aqua, magenta, seafoam, you name it. But they didn’t keep you out. They just invited you in. For every color, there was some emotion, or some memory, that reminded me of my time with you. I fought to keep it together, but I couldn’t. I spiraled, and I spiraled hard. I grabbed onto my hair, and it clumped together in the paint between my fingers. I told myself that I’d done enough. I had taken a moment to mourn you, but I wouldn’t let it get to me. Not like it had done in the past. I was beyond that. I’d grown past it. I kept repeating: Don’t let it get to you. Don’t let it get to you. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about him right now.

Don’t think about his smarmy smile. Don’t think about his pointy ears. Don’t think about the lisp he worked so hard to hide. Don’t think about how he constantly bit his tongue. Don’t think about that time he rode an Excitebike and broke his nose. Don’t think about how his hands were rough from mechanic work. Don’t think about the times we spent sending Don’s sailboat models down the Frogger river in flames. Don’t think about the time he fell in an open grave in Ghosts n’ Goblins. Don’t think about pranking him for the first time. Don’t think about your bar fight at Tapper’s after. Don’t think about the trashy music he always played in his garage. Don’t think about how terrible he was at dancing. Don’t think about how tightly he’d hold you when he thought you were asleep. Don’t think about his stupid hair that always had to be a perfect mess. Don’t think about his actually really cool abstract contour line drawings. Don’t think about the time we microwaved six eggs just to watch them explode. Don’t think about the first time he brought you takeout without being asked. Don’t think about the first time you let him touch you. Don’t think about how it sometimes felt like you were the only two sprites in the arcade. Don’t think about how he made you feel like you belonged somewhere.

Don’t think about how you’ve forever lost your chance to tell him that.

That was it. 

That did me in. 

The good ol’ unreality came crashing back -- it couldn’t be true. You couldn’t be gone. It wasn’t real. By extension, nothing was real. Niceland was just a popsicle stick model that would collapse on top of me at any moment. Everyone I’d spoken to for weeks were just holograms. Even I didn’t feel real. I didn’t understand how I could be so numb and still be in so much pain. It was a nightmare. I needed to get away. I needed intervention, some kind of release, anything to chase the horror away.

I stood, feeling like I was in a trance. I had just the faintest control over my body. Everything I’d learned in counselling flashed in my head, but it did not take. I was driven by almost life-or-death urgency, as if I’d ingested poison and desperately needed the antidote. I shambled into the kitchen, marking cabinets with rainbow fingerprints as I looked for absolutely anything alcoholic. But Fix-it’s not a drinker, unsurprisingly. I wish that alone had been enough to stop me, but I carried my search into the bathroom. And there, on the spotless porcelain sink, sat a bottle of blue mouthwash.

Technically alcoholic.

I grabbed it. It seemed like the paint itself was trying to dissuade me, making the bottle so hard to grip. As I struggled to twist the cap off, I was screaming at myself internally to make the right choice. Make any other choice at all. But I needed it, I thought. I was in so much pain and I needed a drink or I’d…

I paused, shaking, the uncapped bottle almost to my lips. I finally saw myself in the mirror, smeared with a rainbow of garish war paint that covered almost all of my exposed skin and stained bits of my clothes. I looked beautiful, honestly. But the bottle of mouthwash in my hand, about to be my one last pathetic attempt at drowning my sorrows? It spoiled the beauty. It was below me. No matter how badly I was hurting, I knew better.

Pain explains, but it does not justify. 

Yeah. Damn it. Damn it all.

That was enough time for the bottle to slip from my fingers and hit the floor with a sloshing thud, spewing its bright blue contents over the floor, and along with it, my last chance to run from the pain. My back hit the wall as I stumbled, a sticky hand clapped over my face. I sank to the floor. It was there that I cried harder and longer than I have in my entire life.

There was just no escape from how much I missed you.

My best friend.

I stayed there for hours in Fix-it’s bathroom after my crying breakdown, crumpled in the corner. I might have fallen asleep a little bit, because I remember sort of waking up as the arcade closed. I heard the rumbling of Wreck-it pounding the building stop for good, and then the parade of little footsteps overhead as Nicelanders descended the stairs and returned to their homes. Which meant Fix-it would not be far behind.

And he’d see me. In my… state.

That couldn’t happen. I couldn’t deal with that, not after such an atrociously messy breakdown. I knew it wasn’t the right move, and I knew he would have only wanted to help, but I sprang to my feet and locked his front door anyway. When that didn’t satisfy me, I grabbed a chair from the kitchen and propped it under the door handle. 

There was something awful driving me. Some deep panic. It felt avoidant, like I just couldn’t face whatever was coming. But it wasn’t just Fix-it, I noticed as I feverishly paced. I couldn’t carry on with things the way they were. I was done. I was sick of it. I was sick of you being gone and me just having to live with that, with no memory of you passing. I couldn’t stand that I had to carry on just convincing myself our story had ended, while it seemed like everyone else had witnessed it first-hand. It wasn’t right. I had no closure. I just had nightmares of explosions, screaming, and fire.

Fire, fire, fire. 

It was always fire. It seemed like no matter what happened, fire would not leave my head. Even the yellow, orange, and red colors of my brush were all fiery, and I knew that wasn’t a coincidence. I’d been so hung up on this stupid mysterious fire for so long. Then there was my odd fear of the fireworks. And the sea of gasoline in that dream, when you told me, “Come find me in the fire…”

I froze. ‘Find me in the fire.’ 

The front door handle jiggled and the door struggled against the chair. I heard Fix-it’s confused grunt. “Mavy?” he called. “Mavy, are you in there?”

I didn’t answer. He was nearly drowned out by the pounding in my ears. 

Whatever happened on August 7th had fallen out of my mind. Well, sort of. It’s not that the memories were gone completely, they were just virtually inaccessible. Bits and pieces had been haunting me since you left. Fire brought vague, horrifying flashbacks of painful memories I didn’t recognize. But what if I wanted to recognize them? What if I didn’t run away when things got painful? Could I bring back the entire memory if I walked up to my fear and stepped inside it?

‘Find me in the fire,’ you had said. ‘Find me in the fire.’

Listen. You know me. By now, you’d probably be able to guess what I was about to do. But in the heat of the moment, even I wasn’t sure. I was going full autopilot, possessed by some stupid idea that probably wasn’t going to work. I think my destructive instincts were relapsing after being peaceful and constructive for too long. In any case, I searched the apartment like a bloodhound for the means to bring my impulsive plan to fruition, and fast.

It didn’t take long. In Fix-it’s utility closet, I found paint thinner. The irony of which sailed clear over my head at the time. The little flame symbol on the label was all I cared about.

I felt completely outside of my body as I poured the foul-smelling stuff all over everything. The floor, the furniture, the walls, even the bathroom. Fix-it was pounding and yelling at the door by then, demanding to know if I was alright. 

“I’m fine,” I told him as I shook out the last drops. 

I heard him sigh. “Mav-- Why is the door locked? Wait--” he paused, and then he spoke with the urgency of a man who has dealt with me his whole life, “-- what’s that smell? What are you doing in there?!”

I stood in the middle of the living room, right next to my muddy painting. All the fumes were starting to give me a headache by that point, so I opted to hurry it up. I took my brush -- my coded, faulty brush -- in my hand, and with the color red, I painted into my palm a fist-sized cherry bomb. Then, painting an orange spark, I lit it.

“Art project,” I called out to him. Taking a deep, unsteady breath, I took just long enough to mentally hold my own hand and tell myself that no matter what I saw or didn’t see, I was gonna be okay. 

You may not have been fireproof. But I am.

I rolled the bomb in the direction of the bathroom. 

“Mavy?!”

Closing my eyes, steeling myself to the imminent blast, I said, “I’ll be out in a minute.”

BANG.

The bomb went off, and I was staggered by a wall of suffocating heat as the apartment roared with flame. I caught myself on the coffee table and, trembling, opened my eyes. They stung immediately, and I blinked hard against the vicious light. The very air seemed stained a dry, sick red. It was just as terrifying as I had hoped, watching arms of hellfire claw across the floor, over the furniture, up the walls, quickly filling the ceiling with a black sea of smog. Squinting through it towards the door, I could see that the blast had knocked a bookshelf onto its side, only barricading the door further. It seemed to shake as Fix-it presumably rammed against it from the other side. If he was still calling out to me, I couldn’t hear him over the ringing in my ears. 

So, what did I do?

I just stood up straight and… stayed there. I didn’t crouch beneath the smoke. I just let the flames crawl up to my feet and creep up my clothes, threatening to melt all my pixels together. The pain was quickly becoming too much to bear, but I focused on that. I wanted it to hurt. I wanted to feel the fire eat all the confusing layers away, until I could finally see the truth.

So many horribly familiar sensations snuck up on me. The sickening smell of the burn. The hot ash reaching down my throat and choking me. The painful dryness in my eyes. Reality felt unsteady. I quickly became very dizzy from the suffocating fumes, and I could no longer hold up my own weight. I remember stumbling backwards, and my darkening vision fell on the kitchen just in time to see the oven split apart, erupting in an explosion exponentially bigger than the first.

I was forced back, I lost my footing, and fell into memories so vivid, I may as well have been living them again.

I’m just… going to need a minute before I tell you about it. But you can wait. 

Wherever you are, I’m sure you remember the day you died.

[rhotdornn]

[Tender Little Hearts II] - Sapling

Wayward lodge, The Step Autumnsfall aerst-eve, third Moon, Seventh Astral Era

The last ribbons of golden sunlight gradually seep behind the cracks and nooks of the mountains overhead. Spring always held sway over these distant shores, so far removed from the mainland... For even in Autumn’s advent could one stumble across fields replete with reds and whites, and yellows and blues; a tapestry of colours in bloom. From boundless glades brandishing beds of petals, inked in all hues of the rainbow, to harrowing peaks of stone and iron, maintaining solitary vigil over us who oft dwell ‘neath their crooked boughs... It truly did hold this unfathomable allure, a getaway haven above any other far and wide... Well, ‘s long as you valued green plains o’er roofs o’ maple crowns, or vast kingdoms of seamless snow that is...

I know I did. At least on that day.

It all began not unlike all other, grand adventures--with small feats. Naught more than a little ‘Dear diary,’ here, and a doe-eyed observation there... Oh, and ‘course, not wanting for a spirit of adventure and mischief o’erlong, nay...

It all began on a sunny day, a normal day by all accounts, I assure you, honest.

With a spirited lad, and his hunger for the world--among other things.

The royal court of Autumn, a terrific place, you see... They held all of these halls and keeps of splendour, bathed in vibrant strokes of the paintbrush, and the Great-forges, the Haer-fyr being the grandest of ‘em all, differed very little. A proud folk, a hearty folk--aye, they found succor in those decorated marbles and draped halls...

...Yet, they also were none the wiser to another quarter, one far more rustic, under Hyrtfyr’s belt. There, in the secluded midst of The Step, laid the Wayward roadside lodge... A rustic cabin, homely and tranquil, long-removed from the troubles that ailed the shores of the Mainland.

That is where, upon that day, a flighty Sea Wolf had made his escape from the familiar life that cradled him thus far, and with no more than eleven summers to his name, did he steal away, under the veil of night, a ship of silver sail and mallorn timber; or had he merely joined a well-versed crew secretly so? Frankly, memory oft eludes me on these matters...

I am but certain the former sounds far more tell-tale worthy, I’d say...

Yet, as the break of dawn sprang ‘hind the jagged pillars of the mountains, so too did he find himself upon this blessed, remote soil. While Roegadyn cubs may’ve been left wanting for stealth, this slippery Wolf honed his own skills throughout the better part of his childhood--fleeing ‘twixt chamber and hall with varying success, at first.

And where did the road take him? Well, of course he knew... In a sense. His destination was made known to him, albeit the course--not so. His day wasted away in exploration, and as morn waxed to midday, had he already learned of the fruits and the flowers that made their peaceful home there. As midday turned to wane into night, however, did he finally chance upon the steadfast planks and crude cobblestone that lined the foundations and walls of the beckoning homestead. A keyturn here, a few cursory glances there... And to bed he went, wholly spent and content, sinking away into dreamscape’s hold...

...Would that he awoke the same fashion--at least, as far as his feelin’ of accomplishment went. As his vibrant hues began to squint open, did he drink deep of the crashing sunlight; of the specks that flitted from window to floor, of the gentle wind that lulled the shutters.

Of the looming silhouette, colossal and terrible, perched by his bedside, with arms in a lax fold atop its breast. Yet, a gasp he could not withhold, no matter how hushed--his instinctive fear entrenched him firmly, forcing him to spring back in his covers. This, of course, was noted by the stalwart shade, now visibly sitting upon a pulled-up chair.

Its bulk soon gave it away--a male Sea Wolf, through and through, his skin brandishing a light tint of seafoam, and his fiery mane long, at ends sharp, with two great braids running past each side of his face, each encased in a metal cask near the bottom. It was the brittle clatter of these very cases that announced his attention steering towards the cub.

“Well, well, what d’ve have here, then... Rise an’ shine, lil’un.” His deep, powerful voice gently ushered into the wind, an unbecoming serenity yielding from his lips.

The child’s jaw unhinged gingerly, for as he took in the form of the man afore him, he could make no mistake; from the runic insignia upon his braids, to the war-paint cherishing his lower eye, even momentarily bereft of crown--the Haerkoen, the Greatking of Hyrthyml stood afore him. The youth was swift to knit his brows in frustration, pulling up the covers in a feeble attempt to remain concealed.

“Your--uh, your... Majesty, what... Brings you ‘ere...” The Sea Wolf feigned a cough, muffling his juvenile voice faintly.

“Oh, you know...” Began the larger Wolf, a single brow flicking up in quizzical amusement. “Making certain my ‘subjects’ are happy and content in all matters. Oh, and seein’ as you’re wholly satisfied with lounging the day away ‘ere by your lonesome, figured I’d take up the undying duty of delivering you this coveted... Journal, which someone simply must’ve stolen from ye--no way you’d e’er be clumsy enough to forget it by yourself... Mm? It belongs to you, I trust--especially so, given the detailed plans o’ yer lil’ flight to the Step littering its pages, and all.” 

Oh, he knew the words to pick at times... While mostly stoic, in the few instances where he could, he’d feed his own twisted amusement until every last drop was siphoned.

“What’re you doin’ ‘ere! Don’t ye have some important errand t’ attend to anyroads...” Barked back the child, the frustration of his own, flighty nature, gnawing at the back of his mind--how in the Seven Hells could he forget his most prized possession!?

“Nortstyr Rhotdornnsyn,” Thundering swept his proud voice, as ire rose and grew ripe in his burly throat, and akin to a whip he barked back, “The most important, unending duty o’ mine rests with my son, my daughter, my wife and my peoples--and none may come inbetween.” The quivering of the shutters would quell in the aftermath, as he assumed a much more resolute, hushed decibel. “Gather your belongings. We are to set out.”

While the rolling thunder instilled him with dread, the King ever knew the blood that ran in the child’s veins--and how a simple spark could give way to an unquenchable flame of anger. Not that he had been any different in his childhood, anyroads.

Off came the covers, and with a swift swipe of his arm did he snag back his adventuring journal--greedily pressing it to his chest, plumes of fire nearly seeping through his nostrils, as his own anger began to boil. 

“I am not leaving! I barely got here, lil’alone findin’ the place besides. I have no mind to go home yet.” Baleful daggers were shot towards the larger Wolf’s crimson hues, who only reprimanded him with a proud smirk. It did occur to the younger’un then that his senior wore less so a royal garb or anything alluding to his status--no, a simple, leather jacket, dark trousers and journeying boots was all he required for this task.

“I ne’er mentioned returning home just yet, my son. Come, while the dew is still fresh, and the ground rousing awake.” Into his arms he would guide Nortstyr, reassuringly guiding him off the weathered bedside. In bewildered wonder did the child glance up to the figure of order, and for the first time in a long, tiresome while, did the light of morn wash over not the High-king, but his father. Together, they would eat and make merry still, at the expense of the mature Wolf’s love for cuisine--before setting out into the wild.

There, after a longer trek drowned in rising laughter and, past halfway of the route, a piggybacking, did they at long last reach their quarry--an aged, immense oak, resting upon a sizable glade--a glade entirely cradled and embraced by the arms of the mountain. A quiet brook trickled and bubbled nearby, running off into a timid pond at the far side of the verdant plateau.

“We are come, at last. The Ahldeyha, or Old Oak, in short.” Spoke the labouring male, squeezing the child’s ankles within each fist affectionately. He gave him little room to ask his queries, for he knew what puzzled the cub’s mind. “You see, back when I was no more’n a lil’un, I fell into the same woes I seem to have cast upon you... My Pa was awfully invested in running everything, yet even in spite of it all, he noticed my turmoil... And while he did his best, it hardly sufficed.” Rhotdornn’s lips curled into a nostalgic smile, as he gazed up the terrible crown of the lush giant ahead, slowly taking his approach.

“So one day, o’erloaded as we both were with our burdens, our duties--I was stolen away, in the naught o’ night, by a mysterious figure cloaked in shadow... An’ next thing I knew, I awoke in that very cabin, with ol’ Hyrtfyr by my bedside, in these... Farmin’ trousers an’ suspender vest. I’ve never quite seen him out of his royal attire afore then, either.”

Nortstyr found great irony in this, if the devilish smirk upon his lips gave any indication. “Like father, like son.” He jabbed lower, prompting his father to rustle his legs playfully.

“Aye... Suppose it runs in our blood. An’ so we made away, an’ he took me to this place... A thing of beauty at night, as you’ll witness yourself. And together, we... Well...” Bracing both of his palms against the smaller one’s sides, he’d gradually pry him off, softly allowing him to find his own footing once more upon the gentle, dew-crowned blades of grass. From his large palm, at last, he’d unearth the smallest of seeds, to which the youth took immediately, taking it away as if it were the most brittle of all things.

“We made a promise or two to eachother, and dug into the earth together a little seed--no bigger than the one in your hand, my little lion.” Dornn’s hand soon proudly sat atop his son’s fiery locks, ruffling them with unwarranted affection.

“As we gave birth to a new life that day, so too did our bond grow, replenished with new life, new hope... And as our sapling grew greater an’ greater, so too did it nourish and strengthen the ties that bound us. A simple ritual, to be sure--but on this enchanted glade... You need little more than a bit of love, care and determination to see the smallest of saplings burst the mightiest of branches. Great feats oft spring from the smallest, most humble beginnings. Remember this, my child.”

The child nodded but once, awestruck as he had become from the intimidating shadow, blotting out the rays of daylight’s break near-wholly. “Aye, I... Think I un’erstand.” He slowly muttered, honouring the seed within his palm with an impressed, if not slightly fearful, glance. But in the end... It mellowed out, ultimately finding greater comfort than intimidation in such a small, timid thing.

Rhotdornn guided him ever lower, with one palm on Nortstyr’s back, and another patting a malleable patch of heavenly-soft ground to boot. With a bare palm each did they endeavour to draw out a smaller hole, none too far from the great Oak, gingerly lodging the seedling within the firm mouth of the earth. Rhotdornn slowly guided Nortstyr’s steps, piece by piece, showing him even as much as to how to pat the land together, how to straighten up the stalk... And from the nearby, gurgling brook did they draw water, sprinkling it across with due diligence, to tide the newborn life over, until new clouds were to blanket the sky, and pour clear rains upon the fertile soil.

At long last, they’d merely sit upon the ground, enjoying the peace that spoiled their senses vehemently. At long last, Rhotdornn spoke once more.

“The deed is done, Nortstyr. We ought to think of a name for it, I reckon... But that can wait. ‘Tis funny, in a sense--e’ery time I visit this spot, I visit a life I’ve given to one, while in the company of another... Much like my father, I’d say. Mayhap one day, even you will... Or you may yet unravel the magicks that stir within this place at dawn and dusk. Or you might chance upon a fetching lil’ witch and bring her hither to solve the mystery... Among other things.”

A sharp fang protruded from the roof of his upper lip, as his lips spread in a subtle grin, offering the smaller Wolf a little nudge with his elbow. Nortstyr scoffed, unused--and nearly unsettled--to witness his father in such informal chatter.

“Hrmph... As if. Besides, didn’t uncle Ornn say that adventure waits for no Wolf!? And so, none will hold me in one place with the world so large and ripe for the taking. Besides...” He quizzically peered up at his father, ever so innocently blinking upwards. “You mean to tell me sis an’ I were planted in the soil, too? Is that where Roegadyn children come from?”

Rhotdornn near-froze up, billowing a long breath out of his nose at the assumption. A long sigh followed thereafter, as a profound chuckle stirred his chest boisterously. “...Eh, let’s... Leave that mystery fer ‘nother day, can always ask one of your uncles or aunts--not Dhem, though. Never Dhem.” His brows knit together in a flat line, half-lidded as he had grown at the mere idea of his twin granting any... Quality advice in hindsight.

And so did the waning of the Sun, and the waxing of the Moon, finally come to pass. Together, did the two set out once more, homeward bound--hopeful glints for a brighter future twinkling in their eyes.

Signed, Nortstyr Rhotdornnsyn

[ The lower section of the entry appears to have weathered a few drops of liquid at the very bottom of the signature, bearing a more recent addition. ]

I miss you, Pa...

[eeveevie]

Because ask memes are my jam right now, I stole this from @its-sixxers open tag. I’m gonna tag my homies @ungenue @daedriclorde @gingerbreton @rhetoricalrogue :)

Nickname: Evie is my nickname lol and then people also call me Ev. 

Zodiac: Cancer. I am a crabby crab. 

Height: 5′4′’ I’m tiny but effective 

House: I own a townhouse in the quiet part of the city, surrounded by old-folk communities. 

Last thing I googled: 1958 calendar; lost all my bookmarks with the new laptop and needed it for the Noir fic  

Song in my head: Cool - Dua Lipa (I’m PopHead trash) 

Followers and Following: 2,901 and 91; I can 100% guarantee that 80% of my followers are bots/inactive, as I’ve been on this hellsite for over 12 years (and reached the peak in 2015) but have no energy to sift through that mess and only delete/block new suspicious people and DGAF about numbers. 

Amount of sleep: 6-7 hours. I take naps on the weekends. 

Lucky Number: 17

Dream job: Creative writer; freelance would be nice, or working in a writer’s room for a TV show/movie. Weirdly the job I have now is what I went to school for (legal) and while it pays the bills and was the comfortable route, I wish I would’ve followed my dreams (and was given the encouragement to do so).

Wearing: It’s 100 degrees out so a flowy tank top and cloth short shorts. It hot, yo.

Fav Song: Raspberry Beret - Prince . Prince is my favorite artist as well. I don’t want to over simplify the song and say “it’s a song about fuckin’ in a barn with a girl you dig” but I mean... yeah. I listen to this and smile. Everything is right in the world. Also, cloud power suit. 

Instrument: I can mess around on a piano. 

Random Fact: I have so many instances of clairvoyance and “psychic premonitions” that my close friends and mom no longer like to think it is coincidence. Sometimes it is mundane, sometimes it is creepy. Sometimes it is calling a celebrity death/world event within a few hours. 👀

Favorite author: I’m rather fond of Terry Pratchett’s Discword series 

Fav animal sounds: Specifically, Petey’s (my cat) snoring sounds. 

Aesthetic: Flowers, even though I’m super allergic. Pastels and pretty feminine things; SHINY OBJECTS (because inherently I am a crab). Anything daisies and anything seafoam colored; I’m fond of ocean-scapes. 

[broomballkraken]

Title: Bear Hug

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Pairing: Dedue/Raphael

Word count: 1573

Warnings: None

Summary: Though not as frequent nowadays, Dedue still finds himself having vivid nightmares of his past. He would normally seek comfort in the solitude of taking care of the plants in the greenhouse, but this time it seemed that his comfort would come from a rather...loud and boisterous source instead.

The greenhouse at Garreg Mach was rather impressive, stocked with a wide variety of foliage from all over Fódlan and beyond. It was also one of the few places where Dedue could escape from the disdainful stares from more than a few of the students and faculty, and it also proved to be an effective place to relax and feel at ease.

Dedue was here for the latter, unfortunately. His brow furrowed as he returned from refilling his watering can and he began giving the plants a much-needed watering. He was always mindful of which plants he was tending, as those from differing climates required different amounts of water. He tried to focus on that, and not the reason that he had so desperately retreated here as soon as he was able.

The nightmares stemming from his tragic past were less frequent now, thankfully, but the only drawback to that is when they did pay an unwelcome visit, Dedue was not prepared and often awoke feeling anxious and unnerved. He was lucky that Dimitri was training all day with the Professor, because Dedue was not sure that he could maintain his proper demeanor after being so jarred by his horrid dreams. Very few people frequented the greenhouse when they did not have to be there, so Dedue could enjoy the solitude that it offered.

However, this time the nightmares still sat in the forefront of his mind, and Dedue frowned. Why could he not chase away the darkness that followed him? Maybe the greenhouse was not the place to be today…

“Hey, Dedue! I finally found you!”

Dedue was snapped from his thoughts when a loud, boisterous voice hit his ears, that of which could only belong to one person. He finished watering the roses he was kneeling next to before standing up, quickly brushing the dirt off of his shirt. He turned to find Raphael beaming at him, like the personification of a ray of sunshine. Dedue tilted his head slightly, curious as to why the only one of their classmates who rivaled him in stature was here. Raphael was more likely to be found in the dining hall or the training grounds than in the greenhouse of all places.

“Hello, Raphael. Did you need something?” Dedue asked, watching with a neutral expression as Raphael crossed the room to stand before him.

“I was just wondering...Were you on cooking duty this morning?”

“Yes.” Dedue said with a slight nod. The smile on Raphael’s face somehow grew even brighter, and Dedue was glad that he was not an actual ray of sunshine because he probably would have been blinded by now.

“Wow, really? You made all of that delicious food? It. Was. AMAZING!” Raphael exclaimed, punching a fist into the air for unneeded emphasis. “I could have eaten, like, ten helpings of it...but they, uh, cut me off at five.” Dedue blinked at him, unsure of how to respond to such raw enthusiasm.

“Where did you learn to cook like that? That meat was the most delicious and tender meat that I’ve ever eaten! And the spices were perfect!” Raphael continued, grinning a toothy grin as he waited with bated breath for Dedue to answer.

“Well...I always enjoyed cooking with my mother and sister when I was growing up. I learned all that I know from them.” Dedue said, his jaw clenching when the events of his nightmares resurfaced as he spoke.

“Wow! I bet all three of you could really whip up a heck of a meal!”

“We could, but my family is...dead.” Raphael’s face fell at that, and Dedue wondered if he should have not said anything.

“Oh, hey, I’m sorry to hear that.” Raphael said, a small smile returning to his face, and Dedue was grateful for that. “Is that why you looked so sad this morning? Were you thinking about them?” Dedue said nothing, and instead nodded slightly. He was shocked that Raphael had noticed his dour mood; he was more perceptive than Dedue had realized.

“Well, I lost my parents when I was younger too.” Raphael said. Dedue was surprised at that; he never would have guessed with how happy and carefree Raphael seemed all the time. “I still have my little sis, but it was really hard for the both of us at the time. It took awhile to figure out a good way to deal with all the sad feelings. I didn’t want my sister to see me sad all the time, so I preoccupied myself with training and eating and making her happy to keep my mind on other stuff.” Dedue listened intently as the other man spoke. What he said did make a lot of sense. It was why he himself spent time in the greenhouse when he was sad, even if it did not seem like it was helping too much this particular instance.

“Hey! I’ve got an idea!” Raphael said suddenly, his ear-to-ear smile reappearing on his face, “When Ignatz or Marianne or my other friends are feeling sad, there’s one thing that will always put a smile on their faces!”

“And that is?” Dedue asked, his curiosity piqued. Raphael chuckled and held his arms out in front of him, his fingers wiggling in Dedue’s direction. Dedue just stared at him, confused.

“It’s one of Raphael’s famous bear hugs of course!” he said, “C’mon, try it!” Dedue blinked owlishly at Raphael, a rare stunned look crossing his face. Dedue was too used to people avoiding or flat out running away from him, so having a man almost as big as himself offering to hug him was a completely foreign concept to him.

“Um, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I know some people are uncomfortable with random physical contact like this.” Raphael said, his smile growing sheepish as a light dusting of pink appeared on his cheeks. His completely earnest words made a small smile threatened to cross Dedue’s face, and he held his arms out to mimic Raphael’s.

“I will try it.”

Raphael beamed at him, quickly closing the distance between them as he wrapped his huge, muscular arms around Dedue. Dedue started to return the hug, hesitating a bit due to feeling a bit awkward, and he let out a startled noise when Raphael lifted Dedue off of his feet with surprising ease.

“Ha! C’mon Dedue! You can’t let this hug be so one-sided!” Raphael said, grinning as his honey-colored eyes met Dedue’s seafoam green. Dedue’s hesitation immediately vanished and he finally wrapped his arms around Raphael in a gentle yet firm hug. Raphael responded by hugging him tighter, his delighted laughter filling the greenhouse and making Dedue’s heartbeat quicken.

“Yeah! That’s more like it! Both people have to participate or the hug doesn’t really count!” Raphael said, laughing again as he finally set Dedue back on his feet. Raphael’s laughter was incredibly infectious, because Dedue ended up laughing along with him. He could not remember the last time he felt at ease enough to laugh around someone else, and Dedue was surprised that it was Raphael of all people.

“Wow Dedue! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile before, let alone laugh like that!” Raphael said, his eyes sparkling with excitement. Dedue chuckled, and he found that he was unable to wipe the smile from his face.

“It seems that your bear hugs are indeed an effective deterrent of sadness. Are you sure that you are not casting a spell of some sort?” Dedue asked, raising an eyebrow. Raphael let out a booming laugh and slapped a friendly hand to Dedue’s shoulder.

“Oh, no way! I’m horrible at magic! It’s just some good old comfort and compassion for ya!” Raphael said, his eyes meeting Dedue’s again. “I just can’t sit by when others are feeling down without trying to help. So, if you’re ever feeling sad again, you can always come find me for another hug anytime, Dedue. Or even if you just need someone to listen for a while, I can do that too!”

“I...may have to take you up on that offer, Raphael. Thank you.” Dedue said. He never knew how good a person Raphael was. He was rather intimidating to look at, much like himself, but inside he was a caring and selfless individual. Dedue had never met anyone quite like him before.

“Anytime, buddy!” Raphael said. The moment of silence that followed was interrupted by a loud rumbling sound. Raphael blushed and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

“Oops! All of this hugging really worked up an appetite. I’m starving!” Raphael said, laughing as he slapped a hand to his own stomach. “C’mon Dedue! Let’s go get some meat!”

“Alright, I will join you. I am finished watering the plants here for today.” Dedue said, his face heating up when Raphael let out an excited ‘whoop’ as he grabbed Dedue’s hand.

“Great! Let’s go!” Raphael said, smiling as he led the larger man out of the greenhouse. Dedue let out another rare chuckle and followed, his hand fitting surprisingly well in Raphael’s. Dedue had always used the greenhouse as an escape from his troubles, but maybe what he really needed was a famous Raphael bear hug all this time. He would definitely be taking Raphael up on his offer in the future, and Dedue had a feeling that Raphael would be very okay with that.

[anagnorisisis]

Widojest Week

Day 2: Healing ~ 1.6k

Takes place mid-episode 30. A reimagining of grief.

“Where’s Molly?”

“Jester,” Caleb said softly.

The tide rushed to shore, bringing a layer of seafoam and a low roar with it. The wave sent water over her heart and soaked her with the intensity of death and the astringent scent of reality.

Jester had never lost like this.

“Here, for you,” Caleb said. His voice was slow, weighed down from exhaustion and solemnness. Jester turned to him with a wide smile. The expression did not look right, her eyes did not crinkle nor did her right incisor puncture her bottom lip. Her smiles were infectious, groundbreaking, and this was not one of them.

Caleb clutched the soiled fabric of her bag between his gloved hands and raised his arms. “I’ve been carrying this for you.”

It took Jester a moment to muster up the energy for a true response, but when she did, she exclaimed “My bag!” and reached out to take it from him. “Thank you, Caleb.”

“Mmhm,” Caleb mumbled while scooting away from her.

She cocked her head to the side and held the bag close to her chest. “Although, it looks really good with your coat,” she said in that sing-song voice of hers. Caleb was going to shatter beneath her faux cheerfulness. She had healed his wounds so quickly, yet he could clearly see the dark bruises coating her arms. With every movement, her sleeves showed him more.

“I know,” he responded, watching the way she adjusted the bag along her shoulders in inhibited movements.

She pressed her lips together and caught his eyes with a raw tenderness he had not been expecting. Caleb released a shaky breath. “Thank you,” she whispered, allowing her pain to breach the surface of her expression. Her dark eyebrows dipped above her normally lively eyes.

Caleb cleared his throat and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Looks better on you,” he said, awkwardly casting his eyes away from her bruised body and tense brow.

Throughout the day, he watched as she flittered from conversation to conversation, never lingering for long. Unlike him, she wore her grief well, far behind the shore of reality.

He wondered if she was drowning, and what, if anything, he could do to save her.

That night, he had created his first dome. It was light brown with hints of orange, and it was his.  “Caleb, can you hear through it?” Jester shouted from outside. She was pressed up against the surface of the energy, cupping her hands around her eyes as she attempted to look in. She looked ridiculous, with her tangled hair surrounding her face like a dark blue storm cloud, but for the first time since they had retrieved her from her manacles, she looked alive. Brimming with energy, and enthralled by Caleb’s spell, Jester Lavorre’s marvel for the world fought the heavy oppression of grief.

Caleb, knowing she couldn’t see him, smiled. “Yeah!” he called back, breathless, and equally amazed.

“Can we come into it?” she asked.

“Only you,” he said quickly, without a filter barring his voice. He cared very little about offending the others, or what singling her out implicated, all he knew was that at that moment she was happy, and he wanted to make that instance of joy last as long as he could.

Jester bravely stepped forward and entered the hut. She spun on her heel and examined the now transparent dome walls. Her chapped lips parted, forming a perfect capital ‘o’ and she turned to him with absolute wonder in her eyes.

Playing to his role as magician, Caleb raised his finger to his lips. “They can all come in, but, be quiet,” he whispered, and she nodded, captivated by the man behind the spell.

 “Okay, okay.” Jester craned her neck back, her thick locks bunched at the collar of her dress. “This is so cool! Well—you need like pillows in here, Caleb. This is really neat.”

Caleb ran his hand down the side of his rough-shaven face. “Well, it’s—”

Nott stuck her leg through the dome, testing the contents of the hut before fully diving in. She bent at the knee and stared up at Caleb. “Did it work?” she asked.

With his previous sentence still on his lips, Caleb paused and watched as Nott’s large yellow eyes twitched, he glanced back to Jester before clearing his throat. “Hello,” he greeted.

“Hi,” Nott responded, and from the corner of his eye, Caleb could see Jester’s open mouth grin, she often succumbed to. When the woman smiled, she smiled with her entire body, curved shoulders, and loose stance; it was something he had always admired about her. She felt with her entire being.

“Are you oh-kay?” Fjord asked, his deep voice vibrated the room, and Caleb hid his amusement behind a small smile. If he knew that this one spell would bring their entire party so much joy, he would have started learning it a week earlier.

“You can’t see us, but we can see you,” Caleb explained, shifting from toe to heel. “I have been working on this for weeks.” He turned to Jester with an intense smile, pride flushed his skin and sent a trail of goosebumps along his forearms.

Picking up on the wizard’s rare excitement, Jester swiveled her head again and took note of every detail she could find. “This is really cool!” Her words were genuine, and so was her joy. Another blush, deeper and far too warm for his liking, burned the tips of Caleb’s ears.

Across from him, Jester leaned forward, and Caleb straightened his back. “Can anybody come through? Or only your friends?” Caleb raised his hand and pointed a finger to her, ready to speak. She tilted her head and wagged her brow. “Only people that you like?”

Caleb dropped his hand and parted his lips. For a moment, all he did was breathe. He watched as she swayed on her feet to a song only her heart could drum. She wanted an answer, and so for her and her song’s sake, he gave her one. “You can come in.”

She leaned forward with a smile; her incisor pinched her bottom lip, a testament to its validity. “That means you like me,” she stated, fully aware that it was a fact.

Caleb let his feature’s drop in faux passiveness. She giggled, and Caleb turned to grab Fjord and pull him into the hut, giving himself an escape from the woman’s intoxicating energy.

Once Caleb turned away, and the others occupied the tiny hut, Jester’s lips twitched and threatened to fall.

As the night continued, they handed out recently acquired treasures and created a ‘pillow fort,’ which was simply a hodgepodge of splintered furniture and lumpy cushions but gave them all comfort none the less. At one point, Caleb lost sight of Jester. Anxiety bubbled between his heart and his stomach, and Caleb peered within the nooks and crannies of the fort. She was nowhere to be seen.

If he left the hut, the spell would fade, so Caleb called Frumpkin into existence and sent the cat out in search for her. Caleb laid down across what he considered his bed for the night. He told Nott that he was going to sleep and rolled over onto his shoulder. He called to Frumpkin, asked for the fey’s controls, and once the fey responded with a low purr, Caleb transferred his senses into the cat’s form.

With glowing eyes and lithe limbs, Caleb traversed the large halls of the keep. Using his nose, he nudged each door open, tracing each wall with a lengthy glance, before moving onto the next. He found Jester at the end of a narrow hall. She sat with her legs straight in front of her, the heels of her boots tapped one wall, while her back laid against the other. The sketchbook he had often seen her holding with such tenderness, laid in her lap. She fingered the edge of her page while her pen hovered over the parchment.

She was shaking.

Ink dripped from the nib of her pen, blotting the paper in thick droplets of black. A tear, the first breach of the dam, fell from her thick lashes and landed within the ink. Caleb pushed Frumpkin’s form forward. He chirped softly, and Jester’s trance broke. She looked up from her stained sketchbook, eyes faded and face fractured. “Oh, Frumpkin,” she whispered as she extended her hand.

Caleb felt it was an invasion of privacy on his part, to remain in the cat’s form, but as he rubbed his cheek along Jester’s outstretched fingers, he realized he had found a way to help her. Without warning, Jester picked Frumpkin up and buried her nose into the nape of his neck. Her tears stained the cat’s coat, but the only response she got was a firm purr.

She set her sketchbook down and placed the cat on her lap. She stroked Frumpkin’s forehead, running her unsteady fingers over his head and down around his cheeks. Frumpkin laid down against her thighs, he extended his paws and flexed them as he continued to purr. Folding at the waist, Jester gently rested her head across Frumpkin’s body. Her uneven breaths ruffled his fur, but Caleb did not tell Frumpkin to stop purring.

Jester’s chest shuddered as she muffled a sob. “Molly would have loved it.” Her whisper came as a scream and Caleb instinctually moved to pull away from Frumpkin’s conscience, but wrapped up in her bruised arms and breaking heart, he felt as if it were his duty to see this through. As if he did not trust the fey to finish the job, Caleb remained in control of Frumpkin’s breath, and he would remain at the helm until Jester’s fingers stopped shaking, and her eyes dried enough for her to pick up her pen and sketch what she so struggled to sketch.

He would absorb her grief, just as the sand absorbed the ocean.

[noctemises]

Skye’s Black Magic Booth

Admittedly, this wasn’t his thing. Well, with troubles regarding legality aside, it wasn’t a bad opportunity to unload on some various nicks-and-knacks he’d accumulated over several means. There was no point in leaving them to sit in a storage closet somewhere.

So, settled somewhere outside the foray, he’d set up a rather inconspicuous looking booth with a small placard to avoid second glances. It’s the best way to avoid... unsavory characters, like lawmen, for instance.

Reclining leisurely and biding his time with filing his nails, he doesn’t pay much of a second glance outside of his meticulous perfectionism, blending into the scenery with boredom seeping into his body language.

“Don’t be fooled by the name. There’s something for everybody.”

GENERAL GOODS

Stress-Me-Not Tea (Strawberry, Peach, Blueberry) [x1] ~ 500G Each

This special drink is infused with chamomile, jasmine, and trace amounts of lavender-- as well as several different fruits, which may have been imbued with blessings of a healer. Consuming this will cause immediate relaxation, but the warning tag says do not over-consume: side effects include euphoria. Whatever that means. 

Leather-Bound Journal [x1] ~ 1,500G Each

This little book is perfect for writing all your troubles in. Bound in moleskine leather and depicting the tree of life on its cover, troubles seem to melt away when written on its paper. Whether it’s a protective ward or just a placebo effect is for you to decide.

Dust Bunnies [SOLD OUT] ~ 1,500G Each

This cute low-maintenance creature takes on the form of a rabbite, cloudy gray in colour and small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. It’ll eat the dust from your home and prefers to sleep under couches and shady areas, requiring little to no maintenance. Skye advises only buying one-- dust bunny overpopulation is a serious epidemic. 

Day-Break Dreamcatcher [x2] ~ 1,000G Each

This sun-themed dream catcher is a special protective ward that filters out bad dreams. Useful for a restful nights sleep, those with chronic insomnia troubles can find their napping peaceful after hanging this upon a window.

Atmospheric Candles [x2] ~ 1,000G Each

Lighting this candle will cause the room to smell great, but as an added effect, the scent chosen also fills the area with various atmospheric sounds. Experience sounds of the ocean with the seafoam candle, roasting marshmallows in the woods with the campfire candle, or enjoy the smell and sound of the rain with a thunderstorm candle. Auditory hallucinations are normal and last only as long as the candle is lit.

UNDER THE TABLE DEALS

Oujia Boards [x1] ~ 2,000G Each

Feel like contacting the spirit of a loved one? Want to find out secrets that lie behind the veil that separates humanity from the arcane? Ever wanted to talk to a prolific figure in history? Look no further than your very own Ouija board! Please remember to say goodbye after contacting your spirit. Skye is not responsible for any possessions and misuse of the board. Refunds not accepted.

Liar Liar Ring [SOLD OUT] ~ 2,500G Each

Ever wondered if someone was lying to you? Ever wanted to know when someone was lying to you? This ring is normally red, but the stone turns charcoal black when someone tells a lie-- including yourself. Any emotional damage caused by this ring is accepted as the wearer’s responsibility.

The Coming Flame [x1] ~ 2,500G Each

This black powder resembling the night sky takes on the form of nail embossing powder, but thrown into an open fire, the smoke will allow you a brief one-minute glimpse into your future. The time and date cannot be controlled, whether it’s ten minutes or ten years, but it’s perfect for those curious about what fate holds in store.

Basic Tarot Reading ~ 5,000G

This basic reading consists of just a few cards and a brief outline of what the universe has to say about your fate. If you believe in that stuff, of course.

Advanced Tarot Reading ~ 10,000G

This more experienced reading includes your past, present, future, and a more in-depth explanation of what the cards have to say about you. Any bad readings are solely the decision of the cards, the cardkeeper is only a conduit.

[jazzraft]

Fruit Kebabs

Rated G Words 743 Ships Nyxnoct Summary Spring hits Galahd like a garula stampede, and Nyx is determined to share it’s most refreshing treat with Noct. Notes Some monthly food fluff done with @aithilin! Ao3 link here!

“If it can fit on a stick, you bet we have a recipe for that.”

Sometimes it was hard to tell if Nyx was joking or not. Some of what he said about his Galahdian heritage sounded so over-the-top that it had to have been exaggerated. But then Nyx would take him out to his homeland, and Noctis would see for himself that everything about Galahd met his exaggerated expectations.

For instance, yes, if it fit on a stick, Galahdians had a recipe for it. They were a people that were always active, always out in the verdant wilds or cerulean seas. They needed mobile food once spring thawed the seas and the footpaths were clear for safe travel to the markets. Stands and stalls were set up at every intersections, at the base of every dock, just inside the gate of every little village. Noctis was reminded of carnivals out in Leide, hawking cotton candy and corn dogs for tourists to pay more than they needed for something to eat.

Here, the food was more than spun sugar and fried in oil. Flavor rose up all around him as he stuck himself to Nyx’s side so as not to get lost in the crowd. Different meats lathered in thick, spicy sauces were speared on skewers, roasting vegetables were lined up on smoking sticks, and confections that Noctis would have never imagined as hand-held snacks to take along a walk were exchanged for humble prices all around him.

“Didn’t spring just start like a day ago?” Noctis asked, huddled close to Nyx’s ear so he could hear him over the din of the crowd. “Why does it look like this has all been here for months?”

“Spring comes earlier in Galahd than it does in the city,” Nyx explained. “They have been here for months. Lots of hungry Galahdians have been coming out of hibernation.”

Nyx tugged Noct by the link of their arms to a ramshackle stall tucked closer to the sea, hidden under the shade of the palm trees rising over the boardwalk. The sunburnt man behind the counter smiled as if he recognized Nyx, exchanging orders in thick Galahdian.

Noctis cast his gaze beyond the shack to the grainy sands of the beach below. He was amazed by how clean it all looked, how quickly the islanders rushed from their seasonally imposed exile to clean up the beaches from winter’s rampage. The beaches were raked clean of bracken and debris, the trees thick with green, drooping leaves where they framed the cove. Bright yellow trumpets of flowers gleamed brilliantly from the shadows, like a net of suns caught in the jungle.

Before he’d even absorbed all there was to see of the springtime scenery, Nyx had two sticks of their order in his hands and he was tugging them both onto the beach. “Where it’s quieter,” he said over the chipper voices echoing around the boardwalk. “You’ll enjoy it more.”

He’d ordered them kebabs of fruit salad, arranged in all the colors of the rainbow along one sweet stick – which Nyx helpfully informed him was edible, too. Tart strawberries, smooth mangos, candied lemon wedges, kiwis and blueberries, and little purple fruit cut into stars that Noctis had never seen before were pierced along the thick stick of glass-like sugar, all drenched in a lavender-honey syrup that stuck to his fingertips.

“Could you make this if you wanted to?” Noctis asked once they were farther along the beach, plucking the strawberry off the top of the skewer with his teeth.

“If I wanted to. But it’s always better when someone else makes it.”

The water was still cold with the last remnants of winter’s melted ice in the seafoam as they walked along its edge, the spray speckling their ankles as the waves crashed against the shore. The sun was as hot as a summer’s day though, blasting across the islands as eagerly as its inhabitants were to get back outside into the fresh, sultry air.

With treats like these ready to be offered, Noctis couldn’t blame them. “This is probably the healthiest dessert I’ve ever had,” he said around a mouthful of star-shaped fruit. “I should feel so much more betrayed than I do.”

“Don’t worry,” Nyx chuckled. “I won’t tell Iggy our sacred, secret island recipes. This stays between you and me.”

“Promise?”

Nyx squeezed his hand, tugging Noctis in for a sticky, sugary kiss to seal it. “Promise.”