forgetful-morgan-blog

[forgetful-morgan-blog]

Grima approaches the child, "Happy Birthday, Morgan." The wish comes as easy as their smile. As easy as lying. "Is there anything particular you pine for...?" Now the game begins. Will she say something they can grant? Something they can morph in the worst way possible?

“...I was hoping you’d forget.” Morgan said quietly after a few moments, unable to meet Grima’s eyes with her own. She swallowed nervously, knowing what she really wanted - to see her mother again - would end...poorly. But if she didn’t play into her ‘master’s’ game, well. That would turn out even worse. 

“...a new book.” She settled for something safe eventually, gesturing at the library. “I’ve read all of this I can, and learning the older scripts is taking too long. I just - I just want to read something happy again. A story, not a ritual.”

[forgetful-morgan-blog]

“We-e-e-ell...I’m pretty sure Mother’s busy right now, so...”

“I guess that means it has to be me, right?!”

“Happy Birthday to me~! Uh, I think. Wait…it is, right?”

[forgetful-morgan-blog]

“Granmama!” 

Morgan was excitable enough on most days, and she didn't really need much encouragement. But she'd already been spoiled absolutely rotten by her mother on waking up, much to the girl's slight embarrassment, and it seemed to have convinced her that absolutely nothing she did today would be taken the wrong way. Morgan...no longer had a filter for the time being, something she expressed quite easily when she bounded at the woman and wrapped her arms around her waist mid-jump.

If Cynthia had been there, she would have laughed at how similar it was to how she acted around others. Morgan giggled as her face was buried somewhere in Naeva's robes, eventually looking up with wide eyes, her cat wrapping around their feet and mewing loudly.

"It's mine, right?"

          “A little bird told me that today marks the birthday of a rather precious and irreplaceable grandchild of mine… Any idea who that might be?”

[forgetful-morgan-blog]

“Happy Birthday to me~! Uh, I think. Wait...it is, right?”

[forgetful-morgan-blog]

    Upon hearing his daughter’s response, the worried frown painting the man’s features only becomes more prominent, feeling his heart immediately sink in his chest at the site of his child in clear discomfort. Yes, the man knew his future daughter’s pain wasn’t necessarily chronic, as she did not really seem debilitated by it, but still-he can’t help but find seeing the young girl in pain upsetting, and worrying. How long had she had this headache? Or did it just come on suddenly? Had it been preventing her from doing basic actions, such as eating or resting? If so, why hadn’t she told him earlier? Again, Robin is aware his daughter isn’t the type to want to worry him, but the thought of her pushing through any pain-physical or mental-, only threatens to make his heart sink even further. So, after a moment of shooting the female a worried stare with dark orbs, the male tactician stands to his feet, reaching his daughter about an arm’s length away in just a few strides, careful to not step on the feline at Morgan’s feet. Placing the back of his hand gently on the girl’s forehead, the man furrows his brow slightly in thought before speaking up.   “Hm…no fever, thank goodness. Morgan,”     A small, relieved sigh passes through the man’s lips as he removes his hand from her forehead, just to place it gently on the other’s cheek, attempting to offer his child some form of physical comfort. Brown eyes staring down at her smaller form, he speaks again, his tone gentle, but laced with worry for the younger tactician.   “How long has this headache been bothering you? Is it reoccurring?”   “And you don’t sound ‘fine’ to me.”

Blast. She'd been found out. Morgan just mumbled, trying to pass off her father's concern as he checked her temperature - shying away from the hand on her cheek, if only for a second. If only she'd managed to keep it secret better - she hated worrying him. It wasn't even his concern, after all, they were her damn headaches. Her father had more important things to worry about, and in the precious time she could spend together with him, she didn't want it to be focused on this.

But she'd always been a terrible liar. With a sinking feeling, Morgan knew she had to tell the truth, casting her eyes down and mumbling. "Shows up every two or three days. Lasts five or six hours, I guess? They..."

She blinked as it surged again, white light flashing in front of her eyes, the fourteen-year-old clasping her head in her hands and letting out a low, keening whine. The cat at her feet let out a soft mewl at the sound it had grown used to, paws resting on her shin as she stared up at her master with wide eyes. 

"...they get bad, father. Like, just...really, really bad. But I'm fine, they're - they're just headaches."

@forgetful-morgan// (cont. from here)

Morgan:

“No.” Morgan mumbled when he asked if she’d been staying up. She rubbed at her eyes, sniffling slightly as her cat wound its way around her feet, mewling softly.

She’d spent the entire day fighting through it - but she just couldn’t handle it anymore. Her damned headaches, every time she really tried to focus on something they played up again. Like she was moments away from remembering something about what she was reading, but it just couldn’t quite get there. Eventually she let out a sigh and lowered her head, a small whine escaping her mouth.

“Head hurts. I’m fine.”

     Upon hearing his daughter’s response, the worried frown painting the man’s features only becomes more prominent, feeling his heart immediately sink in his chest at the site of his child in clear discomfort. Yes, the man knew his future daughter’s pain wasn’t necessarily chronic, as she did not really seem debilitated by it, but still–he can’t help but find seeing the young girl in pain upsetting, and worrying. How long had she had this headache? Or did it just come on suddenly? Had it been preventing her from doing basic actions, such as eating or resting? If so, why hadn’t she told him earlier? Again, Robin is aware his daughter isn’t the type to want to worry him, but the thought of her pushing through any pain–physical or mental–, only threatens to make his heart sink even further. So, after a moment of shooting the female a worried stare with dark orbs, the male tactician stands to his feet, reaching his daughter about an arm’s length away in just a few strides, careful to not step on the feline at Morgan’s feet. Placing the back of his hand gently on the girl’s forehead, the man furrows his brow slightly in thought before speaking up.

   “Hm…no fever, thank goodness. Morgan,”

     A small, relieved sigh passes through the man’s lips as he removes his hand from her forehead, just to place it gently on the other’s cheek, attempting to offer his child some form of physical comfort. Brown eyes staring down at her smaller form, he speaks again, his tone gentle, but laced with worry for the younger tactician.

   “How long has this headache been bothering you? Is it reoccurring?”

   “And you don’t sound ‘fine’ to me.”

[forgetful-morgan-blog]

[pats the girl and her kitty] I brought you this! [flashes a cute pink purple poncho and a new collar for the kitty] You like it?

“Oh! Wow, Lily, look at that!” Morgan beamed, taking the poncho and collar and looking down at the white shorthair. “You’re going to look so cute, aren’t you?”

“Thank you, Grandfather! I - oh, wait, she’s running away! Lily! Come back! At least wear the collar!”

[forgetful-morgan-blog]

!!

Send ‘!!’ and I’ll write a para description of your muse from mine’s perspective, including:

Their looksTheir personalityAnd who they are to my muse+ Etc!

I don't get why granpapa always seems so sad when he talks about Great-Auntie Emm. What's not to like about her? She's so kind to me, and pretty, and all that - what's wrong? Mother told me she was injured and doesn't act the same, but...isn't that kind of like what happened to me? Haley says that I don't quite act like I used to, and I have loads of gaps in my memory too.

Maybe I should spend more time with her. We can both be broken together! Maybe I can even help her remember stuff she's forgotten, and she can do the same for me. I mean, anything's got to be better than the pole plan at this point...

[forgetful-morgan-blog]

!!

Send ‘!!’ and I’ll write a para description of your muse from mine’s perspective, including:

Their looksTheir personalityAnd who they are to my muse+ Etc!

Granmama seems to scare everyone else but me. Mother told me about how, when they first met, she actually arrested her at speartip - being overprotective again, augh. It's so embarassing! Besides, she adores me, how could she ever want to hurt me? I just wish she got on better with Haley. I think that spat they had over a stupid coat kind of soured that.

The really weird thing is she doesn't even look that old. I mean, everyone's younger than they should be to me, but she's still my father's mother and he didn't come back in time! I wonder if that means I'll look that good later...how old is she, anyway? Maybe I should ask! Let's just not bring up grandfather again. That didn't go well.

[forgetful-morgan-blog]

"Uhuh." Morgan responded, sipping at her own cocoa with a smile on her face. She was never sure why, but whenever she was around her grandmother the headache and the voices in her head backed off. She sighed, snuggling up closer to her and just enjoying the momentary peace she'd been able to find here.

"Granmama..." She said eventually, eyes staring off into the distance without much focus. "...how often did you do this kind of thing with father? He never tells me much about when he was my age."

ø

Holiday Meme || {Accepting!}

ø: Our muses cuddle by the fireplace with hot cocoa.

     Now this takes her back– to sit in front of a fireplace, holding a cup of some warm beverage close, and to have one of the sage’s kin cuddling up to her side with a large quilt wrapped around themselves. When the girl’s father had been but a small child, the two would often do such a thing, and spend the night speaking on nonsensical topics, laughing joyously until the boy would nestle his head into his mother’s form, let brown eyes flutter shut, and allow for sleep to overtake him. The only set of differences between then and now, however, is that Naeva sits not beside her son at the moment, but instead one of his children– her granddaughter, Morgan–, and in lieu of a cosy inn, she instead finds herself in one of the many spacious rooms within Ylisstol’s castle. Still, as the hand not holding on to the handle of the mug tightens its grasp on the blanket so that it might not fall from two pairs of shoulders, and onto the ground, brown eyes drift away from the alluring glow of warm, yellow flames, and instead proceed to focus on the younger female’s features.      It is then that red lips form that of a gentle smile, and the woman’s pale visage contorts into that of a softer expression, her voice quiet, if not somewhat vulnerable, as she poses a single question to the other sitting so close beside her.

          “Are you comfortable there, dear?”

[forgetful-morgan-blog]

“No.” Morgan mumbled when he asked if she’d been staying up. She rubbed at her eyes, sniffling slightly as her cat wound its way around her feet, mewling softly. 

She’d spent the entire day fighting through it - but she just couldn’t handle it anymore. Her damned headaches, every time she really tried to focus on something they played up again. Like she was moments away from remembering something about what she was reading, but it just couldn’t quite get there. Eventually she let out a sigh and lowered her head, a small whine escaping her mouth. 

“Head hurts. I’m fine.”

“I’m about to head to bed,”

 Sick Meme// Always Open    

     Taking dark eyes off the imposing book at his desk, the tactician instead focuses his attention to the girl who had piped up, a look of slight confusion taking to his soft features as a single brow cocked. Robin knows his daughter, and while he is sure she must tired after the work she put into the day, it is still rather early for her to be heading off to bed. Perhaps she just stayed up far too late last night, and is feeling the repercussions of such an irresponsible sleeping schedule, or maybe, the man thinks, there is another reason? It was not like Morgan to keep things from him, but he also realizes she’s the type to not want to worry those she cares about. So, as soft, brown orbs stare at the young female in a quizzical manner laced with a bit of new-found concern, the white-haired male speaks, his voice gentle and warm.

   “Bed? Already? It’s hardly been dark for half and hour, Morgan. Did you stay up past midnight again?”

     A small frown forms on the young man’s lips, studying his daughter’s features for any sighs of something that may be troubling her–whether emotionally, or physically. Twisting the top portion of his body to face the young girl, he speaks again.

   “…Are you feeling well? Is something wrong, honey?”

[forgetful-morgan-blog]

“Well, at least you guys are happy with your christmas outfits...”

[forgetful-morgan-blog]

Send 🌟 for a headcanon about our muses’ relationship

[forgetful-morgan-blog]

Send ‘!!’ and I’ll write a para description of your muse from mine’s perspective, including:

Their looks

Their personality

And who they are to my muse

+ Etc!

[forgetful-morgan-blog]

a rather cliche meme

add 🔁 for the situation to be reversed where possible (example: 🍂🔁 for my muse to fall on top of yours)

send 💗 for our muses to have to pretend to be in a relationship

send 🏩 for out muses to have to share a bed

send 🙊 for out muses to meet up in secret

send 💏 for our muses to kiss in order to hide their faces from somebody

send 🍹 to confess something to my muse while drunk (specify what is being confessed)

send 🍺 to kiss my muse while drunk

send 💁 for our muses to be stuck in a small space together

send 💃 for your muse to teach mine how to dance (or any other activity that involves a lot of touching)

send ® to catch my muse in a state of undress

send 🍂 for your muse to fall on top of mine

send 💬 for our muses to play truth or dare together

send 🍶 for our muses to play spin the bottle together

send 💌 for my muse to receive a secret admirer letter from yours

send 📖 for my muse to find a diary entry yours has written about them (specify what it says)

[forgetful-morgan-blog]

                            do you ever look at your dash and think ‘wow I need naga’

well LOOK NO FURTHER IF YOU DO, one fresh priest of the Church of Naga with an axe to grind right here for you. LIBRA from FE:13 / FIRE EMBLEM: AWAKENING likes sewing dolls for orphans, chopping firewood for peasants, and hacking his enemies in half with a giant thunder-magic-imbued axe in the NAME OF NAGA because that’s just what priests in fantasy medieval rpgs do. If you want to be preached at by a moody man of the cloth all day or face the sweet sweet sensation of getting sliced apart then this is the blog for you. Played by Pigeon ♡  !!

                                                                      REPENT, SINNERS.

[forgetful-morgan-blog]

Attempted to do something cute for winter. I’ve never been good at drawing cutesy things but these two give me life. I am a bit reluctant to translate the dialogue because it is even more sickly sweet in English. Oh well www.

対話 ▼

「めっちゃ肌寒いわ！」

「そうだね」

「こんなに寒いのに．．．あたしはとても温かい気持ちがするんです」

「ぼくはいつも君の傍にいるよ」

[forgetful-morgan-blog]

THE ULTIMATE HOLIDAY THEMED ASK MEME {part of: ❄ twenty-five days of elle} 

SEND ME A SYMBOL

▲: One of our muses tries to catch snowflakes on their tongue. ☾: Your muse asks for help decorating a gingerbread house. ♪: One of our muses inviting the other for a Christmas duet. ♦: Our muses wrap presents together. ☃: Our muses build a snowman together. ✈: Our muses travel somewhere for the holidays. ✎: My muse’s Christmas card to yours. ✘: My muse runs into your muse while trying to buy them a Christmas present.  ✆: My muse calls your muse while drunk on eggnog.  ツ: Our muses go caroling.  ✿: My muse gives your muse a Christmas present. ø: Our muses cuddle by the fireplace with hot cocoa.  ✌: Our muses argue over which Christmas movie to watch.  ♡: Our muses kiss under a mistletoe.  ♛: Our muses kiss at midnight on New Year’s.  ➸: Our muses decorate their house together. ♘: Our muses put up a Christmas tree and decorate it. ✰: My muse invites your muse to dance to Christmas songs. ☼: Our muses volunteer to help out for the holidays. ∞: Our muses go tree shopping. ❖: Our muses go ice skating together. ☁: Our muses go sledding.  ✉: Your muse hits mine with a snowball in order to start a snowball fight.  ϟ: Our muses bake Christmas cookies together. ↺: Our muses doing something holiday-themed with their kid(s).

SENTENCES

“Look! It’s snowing!” “Do we really have to leave cookies for Santa?” “Santa’s not real! There, I said it!” “Where do we hang the stockings if we don’t have a fireplace?” “You really don’t have to get me anything this year.” “Do we really have to go to your parents’ house for Christmas?” “Let’s just sit in our pajamas and watch Christmas movies all day.” “You’re gonna become huge if you keep eating all of Santa’s cookies.” “Oh, put some mistletoe on my butt and kiss it.” “This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.” “This is the worst Christmas ever.” “Is that mistletoe?” “You look cold. Here, take my scarf.” “I’m just not a fan of the holidays.” “You’ve had the Christmas radio on non-stop for five hours.”

TEXT MESSAGES

[text]: I just accidentally told our son/daughter that Santa isn’t real. [text]: The Christmas tree is on fire. [text]: So cold. Need cuddles. [text]: Christmas is a time to be honest, so this is it — I’m in love with you. [text]: I may or may not have eaten the entire gingerbread house we made two days ago. [text]: I just saw two people dressed as Santa fist fighting in a mall. Christmas is ruined! [text]: I’m may or may not be wearing mistletoe underwear. Wanna find out for sure? [text]: I made an oopsie and let’s just say we have over 500 candy canes in our apartment right now.  [text]: I can’t believe I have to spend Christmas Eve in a hospital.  [text]: So what if I made out with a guy dressed as Santa Claus?! I was drunk! [text]: I know it’s been a while since we’ve spoken, but Merry Christmas. [text]: Just fought a 50 year old lady over a pair of gloves for my dad. He better be grateful, because she almost clawed my eyes out.  [text]: If I see one more picture on Instagram of a snowman with Frozen lyrics underneath, I’m gonna explode up in this bitch.