#And all that gain was despite the number of times I got super sick | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fw00shy · 3 years

Note

hello!! i see that you're taking prompts 👀❣️ i would love to see your take on hitman draco - whose next target is harry

hello shal!! I loved your prompt and wanted to write something super dangerous and sexy for it, but instead I wrote this. 😅

Horrible Luck

Harry/Draco | M | 2.8k | Hit-Wizards, Humor, Catsuit, brief mention of dudley working out in front of the telly | ao3 link

When does a relationship stop moving forward and start looping back like a broken time-turner, intent on rewinding the same disagreements in perpetude? When did all the little quirks Draco used to love about Harry turn into a list of things he wouldn't need to deal with if he were alone? Draco's mind is on his kitchen table this morning — specifically, the half-eaten plate of eggs that Harry left behind; Harry knows the kneazle will sick up from it — so Draco doesn't notice the name on his latest assignment until he's already signed off the disclosure forms.

Harry James Potter.

"We don't need him dead for a few days," Pansy's saying. "Just get it done before the Rodney Snyder Bill comes to a vote in Parliament on Monday."

"Get it done..." Draco trails off, swallowing sickly.

"Yes, Draco? Sorry — oh-thirteen. Blast this numbering system. It isn't as though you're on my payroll as 013. I'm tempted to order a hit on you just so I won't need to write all five bloody titles of yours every two weeks. Only joking, of course — Draco? You alright there?" She taps the heel of her stiletto against the desk, where she has it propped up next to her coffee.

Draco blinks. "Right, yes. Before the Rodney Snyder Bill. Which bill is that again?"

"It's the usual hem-haw about how life is so unfair blahblahblah." Pansy waves the peacock-feathered quill in her left hand. "Don't worry yourself over it. Are you all worked up because it's Harry Potter? I know you had a bit of a tiff with him back in school, but hadn't we all? Potter's an absolute waste of breath if you ask me."

"It's not that..."

"What is it? If it's because of his involvement in the last war, you needn't worry about that. All our sources report that he's nothing more than a tax acrobat for Muggles now, on the days that he's not wreaking havoc with his voting powers in Parliament. I don't know what half those words mean, but I want a drink just for saying them out loud."

Draco decides that it is probably not in his best interest to tell Pansy that Harry was actually a tax accountant, and yes — it is indeed as dull as Neville Longbottom's surprisingly round bottom if their dinnertime conversations concerning the subject matter are any indicator.

Draco's mind flits briefly back home. He hopes their kneazle didn't manage to eat any of the eggs before Draco cleaned up Harry's forgone plate. Who knows where she'll puke it up this time. If she ruins his pillow again... Potter is in for a slaying. Only verbally, of course.

"Don't worry about me," Draco says.

"I never do," Pansy says far too flippantly to be a lie. "As I said, you have a few days, so finesse it however you like. Toy with him a bit, for all I care. Get him in bed, then turn a wand on him — go wild. Now doesn't that sound exciting!"

Draco decidedly does not tell her about the last time he "turned a wand" on Harry in bed. Let's just say that it was both slippery and steamy and smelt faintly of strawberries.

"Alright, Pan — sorry, P. I'll get it done. You know I will."

"That's my boy," she smirks. "Now come give me a kiss before you go."

Pansy started demanding that sort of goodbye after she picked it up from a Muggle romcom. "Absolutely disgusting," she'd proclaimed, kissing Draco's cheeks. But the kisses stayed while the mocking subsided. Don't let it fool you, though — she still has plenty of unlearning to do. They get along fine as long as Pansy keeps her mouth shut.

Which is practically never. This is Pansy, after all. Her father liked to joke that she was born wailing for someone to wipe her arse. But Pansy is the only family Draco has left.

The next few days pass in the doldrums of a daily routine. Draco goes off to the local library and does his usual research (a combination of Muggle Internet and blood spells for tracking; Find My Friends is a godsend) despite knowing full well where Harry is at all times. He watches Harry's green dot make its way down the tube to the financial district by way of the Pret a Manger on 3rd Street. The blinking green dot doesn't move for several hours (it never does; Draco knows because he tracks Harry every few weeks out of paranoia). Draco is starving by noon, but he hangs on until three to see if Harry's dot will move the slightest; but alas, Harry is as much the meticulous Gryffindor hero at tax accounting as he was at Horcrux hunting; he doesn't do so much as grab a bite at the cafe in the lobby.

Harry heads home at precisely five-thirty. Draco waits a respectable fifteen minutes before doing the same, so Harry has time to put dinner on the table. The spread tonight smells delicious as it always is: roasted chicken and potatoes, broccolini, those purple carrots that Harry covets from the Muggle farmer's market; homemade treacle tart for dessert. Sometimes Draco wonders how Harry can manage all of this in the fifteen minutes he has before Draco gets home, but he never questions it for long. Who knows how cooking charms work. Not Draco. He's still a Malfoy, after all.

Harry kisses him good-evening before they sit for dinner. They share meaningless conversation about their day. Draco makes up some story about how Hannah in Marketing took the last premade salad he wanted from the deli down the block and is appalled over how, even in his made-up life, he's about as dull as Neville's — well, you know.

"If I hear another word about Neville Longbottom's surprisingly round bottom, I'm going to start thinking you want to fuck it," Harry declares while savagely tearing into his chicken thigh. Draco shudders at the sight; whoever taught Harry how to cook clearly forgot to teach him how to eat.

Still, it's a clear opening for a fight. Draco welcomes it as one does a summer storm, and soon they're throwing plates at each other. The kneazle (Morticia; Granger's idea) scampers out of the kitchen — that Hufflepuff coward — and Draco manages to graze Harry's left cheek before they stall to catch their breath.

The calm is a fallacy, of course; the eerie stillness of a storm's eye, broken up in the next minute with a low growl, and they're clawing at each other again. Except now, Draco is inexplicably hard.

But still, so incredibly bored.

What is the standard deviation of the time from start to Scourgify? Draco wouldn't be surprised if it's less than five minutes.

Monday comes and goes. Draco's thinking about Harry's dirty socks, the ones he tucks between the sofa cushions, while Pansy dresses him down for his latest failure.

"I swear, oh-thirteen. If we weren't like family..." Pansy trails off, her crimson-lacquered nail pointed threateningly at Draco.

"Sorry, Pans," Draco says, trying his level best to look his most innocent. It's not his fault he's an awful hit-wizard, alright? They should've known from his resume. Ronald Weasley, Katie Bell, Rosmerta, Dumbledore... mainly, he kills his marks by accident. He's got horrible luck.

Pansy declares that this is Draco's final chance. And then a week passes, and Harry stays alive. Draco's dead bored staring at his boyfriend's unmoving green dot all day on Apple Maps. He's made friends with Stephanie-the-librarian, though; they go out for a pick-me-up around three pm, and then Draco makes up stories about how she sends him racy pictures of their fake manager and this and that over dinner with Harry. All's okay if not precisely thrilling until the bill passes with Harry still alive, and then Draco reports to Pansy's office with Theo also in the room.

Theo is wearing a full suit, which is par for the course. But Draco knows he's in trouble because Pansy has her heels off her desk.

"Oh-thirteen," Theo booms. "You let the James Buckles Bill pass."

"Which one is that?" Draco asks between nervous swallows.

"Ten-percent increase in taxes on long-term capital gains," Theo explains the same time Pansy snaps, "None of your business."

"Right." Draco has no idea what these words mean. "Umm... sorry?"

"And the week before," Theo says, pacing now, "you let the Rodney Synder Bill pass."

"Ten-percent increase on income tax for those who make more than seven figures a year," Pansy says before Draco can ask.

Figures? Income? None of this means anything to Draco. If he wanted to be a solicitor... well, he's a Malfoy. Malfoys solicit, never solicitator. Or whatever the word for it is.

"It's only two bills, sir," Pansy pipes up in Draco's defence. "Meaningless in the grand scheme of things compared to the Pepper Oakley Bill tomorrow."

"What is —"

"Thirty-percent increase on property tax on all parcels of land within major metropolitan districts, and a twenty-percent increase on all property over two acres, compounding," Pansy hisses to Draco before turning her full attention back to Theo. "Which will not pass. Draco's been building up a relationship with the mark, hasn't he?" She kicks Draco with the pointed tip of her heel.

"Yes!" Draco yelps out in pain. "Yes, absolutely. I've been building... a relationship with Ha — the mark. He's umm. He thinks we're in love."

Theo regards Draco with narrowed eyes. "In love."

"Turns out he's desperately lonely," Draco says with a mocking sneer, though the truth is that they were both rather pathetic in the beginning.

Draco's story passes Theo's muster. He straightens up and gives them one last menacing glower before he leaves. Draco and Pansy stare at the door for a long, vacant second.

Pansy turns to Draco with a sigh when Theo's footsteps retreat down the hall. "Are you really seeing Potter?"

"Oh. Umm... sort of."

"I'm happy for you," she says. "You worry me, you know. Can't be too healthy for the aura with you sulking about all the time."

"Right," Draco says.

"Right," Pansy agrees. She schools her features. "Sorry about the, um — having to kill your boyfriend."

"It's alright," Draco says.

"Right." She coughs. "Well, then. I suppose you ought to go prep. Remember to get it done before tomorrow morning. If I were you, I'd get it done tonight, so you can stop worrying about it and have a decent night's sleep. Now come and give me a kiss before you go."

Draco short-circuits his usual trip to the library and heads straight home. The midday sun comes in too bright from the printed kitchen curtains. He's never noticed how disproportionately large the clumsily illustrated lemons are in comparison to the cherries and ice cubes — but that's what he gets for letting Harry pick the print. When Harry's dead, he'll replace them with a pattern worthy of the Malfoy name. He's always liked snakes and daggers (just the image of them; they're ghastly in reality).

He gets hungry enough around three to rifle through their cabinets for a snack. All he finds are two expired Twinkies and a can of tuna that he realises only after his first bite that it's meant for Morticia. He briefly considers popping by the library to see what Stephanie's up to before deciding against it. He needs to focus on murdering his boyfriend.

Draco is in the middle of purging his wardrobe when he finds his hit-wizard uniform hanging in the back. It's all black and one-piece, like a Muggle wetsuit but much sleeker, like a seal. But not as adorably chubby. More like Catwoman. Lithe, but deadly. Unfortunately, it's not a very practical uniform for murder, so Draco hasn't worn it in years. He slips it on out of morbid curiosity and is pleasantly surprised to find that it still fits him — especially around his arse. Morgana and Mordred both, his arse.

He loses track of time admiring himself in the mirror. And that's when Harry opens the bedroom door.

"Fuck," Draco says. His wand is out and trained on Harry's chest. (Hit-wizard reflexes; Draco's terrible at murder but surprisingly adept at keeping himself alive.) "I — um. I can explain."

"Merlin, you look hot in that," Harry says. He sounds like he's come back from running. "I've always wanted to see you wear it."

"What?"

"Your hit-wizard catsuit." Harry holds both hands up and steps toward Draco. "So fucking hot. I'm going to fuck you into a wall if you let me get any closer. Promise."

Did someone start up the fireplace? "I knew you stared a bit too hard at Halle Berry's arse the last time we watched Catwoman."

"Can you blame me for imagining what you'd look in it?"

"You don't look so bad yourself," Draco purrs. He can't help himself; Harry hasn't looked so fit in years. What is it about him today? Did he do something different with his hair? No...

Harry disarms Draco's wand hand and pushes him up against the wall. He's always been good at following through on his promises.

Draco's washing up in the shower when he realises what's different about Harry today. Harry's wearing an Auror uniform.

Draco bursts out of the shower still wet and dripping. He finds Harry in the living room with the telly on.

"You're going to ruin the carpet with all that water," Harry says, his nose scrunched. He's still got his crimson Auror robes blatantly bunched over the sofa.

"You're a fucking liar," Draco says. "Muggle tax accountant? I can't believe I bought that lie."

Harry remains painfully nonchalant. "We both had our secrets."

"But you knew mine." Merlin, for how long? Was their whole relationship a sham to —

Harry sighs and spells Draco dry. A bathrobe — plushy and cottony, Draco's favourite — flies in from the bedroom to wrap around Draco's shoulders.

Draco begrudgingly shrugs it on.

"Sit down," Harry says, patting the space next to him. Draco almost does as asked, but stops when he spots the smelly old sock peeking between the seat cushions.

"You're an Auror," Draco says. His lips sneer involuntarily at the betrayal.

"And you're the hit-wizard out to kill me. Yet we're both still here," Harry says. "Come on, Draco. Sit down."

Draco eyes the sock.

Harry's face purples. "Is this about the bloody sock? For the thousandth time, it's not me leaving them about. It's Morticia!"

Harry vanishes the sock. Suitably appeased, Draco walks over to their sofa and sits primly at the edge of it.

"I wasn't actually going to kill you," Draco says by way of an apology.

"I know that," Harry says. "You're an idiot. Hit-wizard, really? It's a wonder how I ever thought you were my nemesis."

"That is absolutely rude and uncalled for," Draco says. "I was plenty good at Quidditch."

Harry grins. "I'll give you that. Most distracting arse on the pitch... some things never change."

"You don't look so bad yourself in those robes," Draco says. He coughs. "I mean. We should... talk."

"Yes."

They've never been good at talking.

"So..." Harry says slowly. "What are you going to tell them when I'm still alive tomorrow?"

"Oh, I dunno. Can't you pretend you're dead? Please? For me."

"I'll be helping a lot of people if we pass this bill," Harry says apologetically.

Right. Saviour complex. Draco's painfully familiar with compromising around that character flaw. "Pansy's going to kill me," Draco sighs. "Well, unless we kill her first. But I'd rather not. She's my favourite person in the world — besides, you, of course."

"She's actually. Um." Harry coughs. "I think she's going to be fine."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... err."

"No," Draco gasps. "No, don't tell me she's been a mole this whole time."

"Err. Well..." Harry scratches the back of his head. "Did you know she's getting married to my cousin Dudley?"

"The awful Muggle bully?"

"He's um. He turned alright in the end? He's been working out in front of the telly. Bought these free weights and all... says it's really changed his outlook on life."

"Sweating in front of the telly changed his life?"

"Something like that," Harry says.

"That sounds disgusting."

"Yeah... I try not to think about it much either. So, err… takeaway? Greek, maybe? You loved the rotisserie chicken we had a few weeks ago. Before um, you started throwing it at me."

Shouldn't they be discussing something serious? Draco already forgets what. "Takeaway? But don't you —"

"Right," Harry laughs. "Now that everything else is out in the open, I suppose there's no harm in you knowing that I order takeaway and vanish away the boxes before you come home."

"I..."

"Draco? You aren't mad, are you?"

Mad, no. Surprised — absolutely. But Draco should've known that dating Harry Potter would never be boring.

Read on AO3

#drarry #drarry squad #fwoosh writes

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grailfinders · 3 years

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Fate and Phantasms #140: Vlad III (Extra)

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re making the cooking daddy himself, Vlad III! This build will combine the Brute Fighter and Undead Warlock to create an unstoppable juggernaut who strikes fear into the hearts of his enemies. (Also spears. He strikes spears into the heart of his enemies.)

Check out his build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Next up: Christmas... 2!

Race and Background

Unlike your other self, you’re still a Human of the variant variety, giving you +1 Charisma and +1 Wisdom. Sometimes will is a wisdom save, sometimes its a charisma save, so you’ll be good with both. You also get proficiency with Intimidation because duh, and you get the Piercer feat. This lets you re-roll a die of piercing damage once per turn, and critical hits get an extra die of damage. It also gives you +1 Strength.

Like a lot of other servants, you’re a Noble. (If you’re sick of this background, yell at history for only focusing on rich people.) This gives you proficiency with History and Persuasion skills.

Ability Scores

“Vlad the Impaler is somewhat terrifying” is a true statement in the sense of “The ocean’s kinda damp.” So make Charisma your highest stat for the highest intimidation bonus. It also takes a surprising amount of force to turn people into shish kebabs, so make sure your Strength is also pretty high. Third on the list of Just Vlad Things is Wisdom for an unbreakable will. It’s sad these couldn’t all be 20s, but we can fix that a little while in. You can’t wage horrific amounts of bloodshed on the populace if you get tired easily, so Constitution comes a bit later. Your Intelligence isn’t great- you’re a noble so it’s not like you’d have a bad education, we just needed other stuff more. Finally, dump Dexterity. Those spikes are cool, but they make it super easy to get caught on stuff.

Class Levels

1. Fighter 1: Unsurprisingly, someone with the name “the Impaler” is pretty good with stabbing people. As a fighter, you get proficiency with Strength and Constitution saves, as well as the Athletics and Survival skills.

Your Defense fighting style gives you +1 AC, and your Second Wind lets you heal yourself as a bonus action once per short rest. The secret to vigilance is knowing when to take a break.

2. Fighter 2: Thanks to Action Surge, you can now add an extra action to your turn once per short rest. The second secret of vigilance is knowing when to bug out and stab people.

3. Fighter 3: Not gonna lie, despite your upbringing you’re still kind of a brute. The good news is this lets you use Brute Force to shove your spear even further in, dealing 1d4 extra damage with all weapon attacks. This die will grow as you level up.

4. Fighter 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to grab the Heavy Armor Master feat, rounding up your strength and reducing all nonmagical physical damage you take by 3. The third secret of vigilance is not getting hurt. Just don’t do it! It’s that easy.

5. Fighter 5: Fifth level fighters get an Extra Attack each attack action, letting you cut through enemies faster than we’re cutting through these levels!

6. Warlock 1: Despite the update to your looks, you’re still getting some of your power from the legend of Dracula, making you an undead warlock. This gives you a Form of Dread that you can transform into for one minute. While transformed you gain temporary HP, once per turn you can force a wisdom save on a creature, frightening it if it fails, and you are immune to being frightened. You can use this a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus per long rest. Look, you are a pretty scary guy.

Speaking of things that recharge on long rests, there’s nothing else.

But there are your Spells, which you cast with Charisma and have spell slots that recharge on short rests. Eldritch Blast and Sword Burst are decent enough substitutes for weapons, as long as you don’t mind them doing force damage. You can also Cause Fear to freak out people even more, and Protection from Evil and Good will help you if you get in too deep with the bigger fish. Or if your bosses try giving you a hard time.

7. Fighter 6: Use this ASI to bump up your Strength for more hitting things. Hitting things is good.

8. Fighter 7: Seventh level brutes get Brutish Durability, letting you add 1d6 to all your saves. In addition, if adding this to a death save increases it past 20, it counts as a natural 20. It’s not quite vampirism but hey, at least you’re not from Ixalan.

9. Fighter 8: Another ASI, another feat! Grab the Resilient feat to get proficiency with Wisdom saves, and also add 1 to your wisdom score. Mind control’s no joke. Except to you, because you’re really good at ignoring it.

10. Fighter 9: Making things even more unfair for your saves, this level makes you Indomitable, letting you re-roll a failed save once per long rest.

11. Warlock 2: Bouncing back to warlock for a bit more goodies. Eldritch Invocations customize your vampire experience, with Devil’s Sight giving you darkvision for your dumb human eyes and Agonizing Blast making your eldritch spears a bit more of a match for the real ones.

You can also cast Comprehend Languages, because despite being a medieval warlord you can still go to modern Japan and not be horribly confused.

12. Fighter 10: Tenth level brutes get a larger damage increase to their brute force, which now deals 1d6 damage. Your new Superior Technique also lets you make a Menacing Strike once per short rest, using a d6 as your superiority die. Hit somebody, and then they have to make a wisdom save (dc 8+proficiency+strength modifier) or they’re frightened of you for a round.

Have I mentioned you’re scary yet? You’re scary yet.

13. Fighter 11: Eleventh level fighters get another Extra Attack each action. Now you can kill enemies almost as quickly as describing what extra attack does got old.

14. Fighter 12: Last feat, I promise. Use this ASI to grab the Chef feat, rounding out your wisdom and making you a true cooking daddy. This gives you proficiency with cook’s utensils, and as part of a short rest you can cook for the party. This gives 4 plus your proficiency bonus creatures an additional 1d8 hit points when they use their hit dice to heal. Also over the course of an hour or after a long rest, you can cook your proficiency bonus in treats. Creatures can eat a treat as a bonus action to gain some temporary hp.

15. Fighter 13: Another use of Indomitable per long rest? Why, that’s almost as unique as this level description!

16. Fighter 14: Bump up your Constitution for some more HP. Not dying- it’s what’s for dinner.

17. Fighter 15: Fifteenth level brutes learn how to land Devastating Criticals, dealing your fighter level in extra damage when you score a critical hit on a creature.

You may remember that this is the same thing that mercy monk had, and it’s still just as terrifying here.

18. Fighter 16: Use your last ASI to bump your Charisma up a bit, making you even scarier and also more magical.

19. Fighter 17: Another Action Surge per short rest, and another Indomitable per long rest. I don’t think fighter is a simple class, but I absolutely see why people would think that, seeing as they don’t get any new abilities past 9th level.

20. Fighter 18: Your capstone level makes you a Survivor. You’re not gon’ give up, and you’re not gon’ stop. This also means you gain HP each turn as long as you’re bloodied and not at 0 HP. You gain 5 plus your constitution modifier each turn.

Pros:

You’ve got two of the big three saves (wisdom and charisma) down pat, with each save at least 1d20+1d6+9, and indomitable backing you up. God help your enemies if you’ve got a paladin in the same party, because by that point you’re probably just immune to charms.

On top of that, you deal solid damage, dealing an almost critical hit each turn and even more when you do land a nat 20. Adding your level to your damage was scary on Martha, and it’s still scary here.

You have over 150 hp, an AC of 20, and constant healing. Basically, you can deal tons of damage, and are very hard to kill in the interim.

Cons:

Despite excelling at the other two saves of the big three, we dumped dexterity, and even all your save nonsense can’t fix a -1 modifier. Also, good luck going anywhere unnoticed.

Eldritch Blast is nice and all, but most of your damage is non-magical, meaning actually fighting those demons you’ve got your eye on will be an issue if you’ve got a stingy DM.

Not going to lie, the second the undead get involved, your options for joining parties gets a bit slimmer. Of course there’s nothing stopping you from putting Vlad in your game as an NPC, but it’s something to keep in mind as a player. (Of course this only made the list because picking weaknesses was pretty hard, but it still counts dammit.)

#Fate Grand Order #D&D 5e #FGO #Vlad III #Fate and Phantasms #Fighter #Warlock #I love making fighters their levels go by so much faster.

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dokoni-mo · 4 years

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Far Away, Together || Darth Vader x Reader (Chapter 3)

(A/N: hello all yet again! welcome back to my little series here on this little cite!! :) I am so glad that y’all have been enjoying my series thus far. I have had a blast writing it and seeing y’all’s reactions to it. As always, please feel free to ask to be on the taglist for this, or just ask questions about the series in general! I love talking with yall :))) links for the previous chapters have been provided below. This is where the series is really gonna start picking up, so stay tuned!!! also, do I see the smut chapter on the horizon? I believe I do...)

Chapter One: [x]

Chapter Two: [x]

Chapter Four: [x]

WARNINGS: slight angst, a bit of crying, mentions of death (nothing too serious), cursing, otherwise none!!

Key: (F/N) = first name, (L/N) = last name

Word Count: ~4600

Peace and tranquility were two old friends that had not visited in a long time. Yet, they finally came for one today.

After cleaning yourself off that morning and hastily getting yourself ready, you had made your way over to the site of our new workstation: Lord Vader’s personal hangar, primarily used for entering and exiting the Super Star Destroyer on his TIE.

The walk to your new station was everything but pleasant. Everyone had seemed to know exactly what you were up to. This is partially due to the fact that you were now the talk-of-the-town amongst your peers. Some new-face baby coming here and getting one of the highest positions imaginable so damn quickly? Unheard of. Getting picked out personally by the Dark Lord himself? Impossible. Unimaginable. How could someone like (L/N) manage to pull off the impossible?

This was also partially due to the direction you were headed. Anyone walking this direction was always eyed by those around them, if they didn’t happen to look exactly like some odd mouse droid. Lord Vader’s hangar was located dangerously close to his personal quarters. Everyone knew that it was the number one unwritten rule of working on this empirical vessel: Do NOT enter Lord Vader’s personal quarters under any circumstance. Unless you wanted to be dead within a matter of mere seconds, do NOT enter that room. Everyone had heard the stories of those who had tried. A stormtrooper who came out with his neck snapped, a woman who was impaled with his lightsaber, each one more terrifying than the last. So, as your polished, black boots clacked right in that direction, it was only natural that you got some stares and silent prayers for your safety.

You thanked them silently and unconsciously, but you knew exactly what you were doing.

Following the directions that the old officer gave you, you eventually made your ways over to the new doors of the new hangar. The doors were almost exactly like him. Tall, dark, cold, unforgiving, to name a few characteristics. As you stood before them, you felt an odd feeling of nervousness in the bottom of your diaphragm, your fingers trembling all so slightly.

If I ever piss him off, you thought to yourself, there is no one around to hear me scream.

But who would care?

Who would dare challenge the Dark Lord himself?

No one. No one at all. So, don’t screw this up, (F/N).

Without turning your head, you let your eyes fall to the keypad adjacent to the door, it's buttons emanating a soft glow. Reaching out a hand, you punched in the digits that the old man gave you to allow you access into the hangar. You were surprised that the code actually worked, despite you knowing that it would. In the back of your head, you had still thought that maybe that old officer was somehow toying with you. That door opening was confirmation that this was no sick joke.

Stepping into that hangar almost felt like stepping right into the jaws of some beast. The hangar looked almost exactly like your last one, only smaller. However, you instantly noticed that it was much quieter than the one you had started with. Much emptier, too. The only thing within the whole hangar was one workbench full of tools, a few crates of unknown contents, one mechanic who’s heartbeat was thumping a mile a minute, and one destroyed TIE Advanced x1.

Despite the atmosphere of unease, you smiled brightly at your surroundings.

It was so quiet. Tranquil, even.

You were so happy to finally be able to work in peace.

As your first action as Darth Vader’s personal mechanic, you quickly ripped off your uniform jacket and threw it on the ground, giving it a kick and a stomp. You hated that thing. And, Lord Vader never seemed to mind you breaking your dress code. So, you decided that your new uniform was your pants, boots, goggles, and tank top.

Eat shit, Empire.

Your second action was to immediately get to work.

~~~

The silence was much more deafening than you had originally thought.

Yes, it was nice not having to listen to the annoying chatter of the other workers in your prior hangar, but this was something else. The silence had let you slip into your own thoughts far too often, much the opposite to your liking. Thinking let your mind wander, and you had a tendency to think about impossible scenarios. Going back home, seeing your family again, finding a new job, to name a few.

The diagnostic had returned nothing of great importance, thank the stars. Just some alerts of wires being fried. Nothing that you couldn’t handle.

Right now, sweat was leaving a heavy sheen on your forehead, and your arms and legs were screaming for some sort of rest. You were currently trying to make some progress to the destroyed wing of the craft, a way to take a break from trying to turn the damn computer back online. And, this wing was giving you no sort of break. Of course it wouldn’t, (F/N). Nothing is ever easy anymore.

You currently had the biggest wrench you had on your workbench wrapped tightly in your grasp, to the point where it made your knuckles white and your palms burn. Your nose and eyes were scrunched, your teeth bore for all to see as you tensed your shoulders and pulled the tool towards you with all your might. You needed this bolt off for you to gain access to the ligaments of the wing that held it onto the TIE. You had tried everything else to get it off (burning it off, freezing it off, and even praying to your maker while giving the ship a swift kick in the ass), but nothing had seemed to work. You were only left with one last tactic: hoping your brute strength was enough to pry off the stubborn piece of shit.

Tears had started to brim in your eyes from the stress of your pulling. Your arms were so tired, and your legs were equally as such. Relaxing your muscles suddenly, you loosened your grip on the wrench, finally allowing yourself to exhale. Panting in silence for a moment, you turned your hands over to inspect them. They were much redder than normal, and the joints in your fingers ached like hell.

Looking down at your hands in silence, you were overcome with an emotion you had no way of describing.

Why were you here? Why did you even accept this job in the first place? Things were so much simpler when the Empire hadn’t come to your home planet, when it was just you, mom, and dad. You could have run. You could have gone with them off-world, but you didn’t believe them. You didn’t believe that the Empire would totally destroy your home. You didn’t believe that the Empire would force you into working for them just so that you could have some sense of protection. You didn’t believe that if you had stepped into their hands, you would never see your home or parents again.

Liars, you had thought back then, mom and dad do not see the truth.

Oh, how wrong you were.

If you could turn back time right then and right there, you would punch your past self in the face for being so fucking blind.

You didn’t notice that you were crying until you felt something warm and wet drop against your palm. Focusing your attention back, you stared deeply at the small puddle on your palm. Letting your mind brew a few moments longer, you frowned deeply as you closed your eyes and bunched your hands into fists. You leaned against the surface of the TIE Advanced, covering your face from the outside world.

Maker above, please, grant me the power to turn back the hands of time. Even for just one day.

Your legs finally giving out, you slowly slid down the surface of the ship until you were crouched on the cold, shiny floor, your tears now only a slight trickle. Forgetting exactly where you were, why you were there, and who exactly was your boss, you sniffled as you allowed yourself to lay on the ground, your legs and arms sighing in relief.

Staring up at the ceiling above you, you had noticed that there was a small window garnishing the roof of the hangar. This had caused you to let out a small chuckle past your tears. Something added to this damn ship purely for aesthetics? You must be going crazy.

Looking at the window, you let your eyes be transfixed on the view that the tiny opening provided. The stars were just barely visible from your point of view, like miniscule flecks of dust. A fleeting moment of relaxation overtaking you, a thought quickly made its way across your brain.

I need to get back to work.

You made no attempt to do so as you felt your eyelids become heavier and heavier.

~~~

He had only the faintest idea of exactly how long you had been there when he found you.

He had sensed your force energy waver from halfway across the Super Star Destroyer. The sheer amount of anger and frustration emanating off of your person was surprising. He had thought that you were the more calm and collected type, but reminded himself that human emotions were common. It surprised him that someone as small as you could feel such overwhelming amounts of anger. Being a sith lord, he would say that he was almost impressed. However, something inside of him kept him from feeling as such.

Instead, he felt… saddened. He didn’t exactly know why.

As fast as your immense feeling of anger came, it went. Sensing this new feeling within you, his attention was piqued.

A deep sadness. A melancholy, even.

For a moment, he couldn’t tell where exactly he had felt such a thing before. He did not have to delve far into this memory before realizing exactly where he has sensed such strong feelings prior to now.

He had felt them from within himself.

As he was currently in a meeting with some high-ranking officers and a handful of moffs, he knew he couldn’t step away so suddenly and without warning without them pestering him. He did not like to be pestered. Yet, something deep down inside him told him to go to you, to check on you and make sure that you were…

No. He had more important matters to attend to, he told himself.

Continuing on with his meeting, he couldn’t help but feel an odd sensation bubble within the core of his being. It pulled him away from the meeting, and beckoned him to leave these people and direct his attention towards you.

There are more important matters to attend to, he had tried to tell himself, but his thoughts did nothing to silence the voice telling him to leave.

After a long moment or two, he felt what was left of his natural body stiffen beneath the leather and robotics that encased him. Honing in on your force energy once again, he felt a cold feeling run through the web of nerves that remained within his body. Your presence had faded suddenly, a shadow of itself only a few moments prior. He couldn’t tell what you were feeling.

Surprising him, he felt his mind race with various scenarios of what could have happened. Was something finally fixed on the ship? Had you inadvertently broken something further? Were you taking a break?

He clenched his fist when the most worrisome thought of all popped inside of his head, making all the others fade away into nothing.

Were you dead?

He tried in vain to calm himself of the thought and put it to rest. He had seen you only the night before, and you appeared to be in perfect health. You had even smiled. This did little to calm him, however. As he would try to focus on what these idiotic officers had to say, his mind would always slip back to you.

A great sense of frustration started to smother him whole, causing him to clench his fist even tighter. He was frustrated that he could not pay attention to the meeting. He was frustrated that he had to attend the meeting in the first place. He was frustrated that these officers and moffs were so damn stupid. However, most of all…

He was frustrated that he couldn’t go to you.

He was frustrated that you had such a profound effect on him. You were just his mechanic. Why did he care whether you were dead or alive? You could be replaced.

...couldn’t you?

The second that words were spoken to signal the end of the meeting, he had turned and exited the meeting room, the wind of his fast exit making his cape flutter behind him. He sensed that the other men in the room were confused and almost startled by his sudden departure, but he didn’t care. He had to go to his hangar immediately.

Marching past all the other workers of the Super Star Destroyer in his path, he ignored all who tried to grab his attention. Idiots. Fools. Worms.

Couldn’t they see that he was in a hurry?

But why was he?

Why was he so in need to see you? To hear your voice and see your eyes? To hear a report on your progress?

Because (F/N) is my mechanic. Nothing more, he told himself. Why did it feel like a lie?

Finally at the doors of his hangar, he punched in his code to the keypad and stepped through the doors. The space was eerily quiet, and this unnerved him. Were his suspicions true?

Hastily making his way over to your workstation, he couldn't help but notice the palm of your small hand capsized on the floor in front of his TIE, the rest of your body obscured by a crate in the way.

No.

This cannot be.

Quickening his pace, he moved his hand to extend in front of him. Reaching out with the force, he threw the crate covering the sight of you across the hangar, it’s landing making an unholy crashing noise.

As he drew closer to you, he noticed how you were laid on the floor, one hand stretched to an unknown receiver and the other pulled close to your chest. You were resting on your side, and, unsurprisingly, your jacket was long since discarded. He did not blame you for hating that infernal article of clothing.

Finally within conversation distance to you, he stopped his quick pace and pointed the face of his mask to look at the tiny frame at his feet. Watching you carefully, he noticed that your chest and shoulders were slowly rising and falling in a rhythmic beat.

You were alive.

He pretended not to notice the feeling of relief wash over him.

~~~

When you finally awoke again, you were immediately hit with three startling realizations.

Number one: you had no idea how much time had elapsed since you were looking at that window. Squinting your eyes to open slightly, you tried to process the time based on the amount of light within the hangar. This was hard to do, however, since you were still very groggy from your sleep. A for effort anyway.

Number two: you were no longer on the floor where you had originally laid down. You could tell this from the feeling of one of your legs dangling off the edge of the object you were laying on, as well as the same feeling in one of your hands. This was confirmed as you pulled in your hands close to your chest, turned your torso, and pushed yourself up with wobbling arms. Your mind was still very fuzzy, but you were just able to make out the foregin surface beneath you. From the patterns on its surface, you deduced that it was one of the crates that littered your workstation.

Number three, and probably the most frightening of all: you were not alone. After a moment of your grogginess slipping off of your body, your ears finally turned back into your consciousness. They told you of the noise they heard, and the fear you should be feeling as a result of it.

Heavy, mechanical, rhythmic, breath.

His breath.

Taking a quick glance up from the surface of the crate, you beckoned your eyes to tell you whether or not your two ears were the biggest liars in the galaxy or not. Of course, they weren’t. Before you was that silhouette you knew all too well.

Shit.

Quickly rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you scrambled to try and stand up and assume your attention stance. You found this difficult, however, since your muscles were still aching from before.

Oh maker, you thought, is this how I die?

“My Lord! Lord Vader!” you were able to say, your eyes finally able to focus on your boss. After a moment of processing the sight before you, you thought that maybe you were dreaming, or somehow hit your head on the way down to the ground. Lord Vader was about ten feet away from you, his buff arms folded across his large, taunt chest, and his gaze locked firmy on your frame. All of these were not surprising. What was surprising, is that he was doing all of this from a seated position upon another crate, only this one had obvious scratches and skid marks on it. Was it always like that?

You realized that this was the first time that you had ever seen Darth Vader sit down. He was always standing, always looming above everyone you ever saw. But, even as he was in a more neutral and open position, he was still very intimidating. If anything, he looked even bigger and more dominating than when he was standing up.

You hoped he didn’t notice how your cheeks turned pink as you beheld him before you.

“My Lord, my apologies you have to see me this way, I-I have no idea...” you began to speak. If he was going to kill you, he was sure taking his sweet time with it. He had every reason to do so. You were resting on the job. Not even pretending to do your job, on the first damn day no less! This would have been met with the harshest punishments by the officers. And, if the stories had taught you anything, Lord Vader’s would be even harsher.

Trying to formulate the rest of your apology, you were also trying again and again to stand at attention. Your arms and legs, however, had different plans. Their weakness kept you firmly in your sitting position upon the crate. This only made the internal panic for your life stronger. Lord Vader detested weakness. Saw it as only a burden, and would be eradicated swiftly and unkindly.

After a few attempts to stand and choke out an apology, Lord Vader rose from his sitting position, letting his strong arms fall to his sides. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit. He was coming to kill you. You knew it. You would be dead here in a matter of minutes, sliced in two by his red saber.

Adrenaline kicking in, you hoped that the hormone would give you the strength to stand once again. Nothing.

Vader stepped slowly and decisively closer to you, his gaze still locked upon you. Despite the rapid beating of your heart and your brain telling you to run as fast as you could, you stayed put. Lowering your head, you stared down at your feet and sighed quietly, taking a long, slow blink. If he was going to kill you, you hoped that he would give you at least the mercy of making it as quick as possible.

Once he stopped about three feet away from you, you closed your eyes and braced yourself to hear the sound of his saber igniting in his grasp.

This never came.

Instead, you felt something heavy, strong, and leathery make contact with your left shoulder. It was enormous, and dwarfed the joint in almost every way. Picking up your head, you darted your eyes over to the source of the pressure. Following your gaze from the touch, you followed it to its source.

Lord Vader.

His hand was on your shoulder.

Maybe you really had hit your head on your way to the ground.

“(F/N),” he said, his mask pointed squarely on your face, “I have been waiting some time for you to awaken. Do you wish to tell me why I have found you in such a state?”

Oh yeah. You definitely hit your head on the way down.

Licking your bottom lip and swallowing, you paused a moment before responding. You decided to tell the truth. If he wanted me dead, you figured, he would’ve killed me already. He doesn’t seem the type to draw these things out.

“I… I was trying to loosen one of the bolts on your TIE, my Lord. I tried many methods to remove it, but none of them worked. So, I thought that I would try and just try and pry it off myself. I guess I tried too hard because I just felt so weak all the sudden… Please pardon me, my Lord, I was not trying to avoid my work.” You said, letting your gaze fall only briefly as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You felt your cheeks burn brighter the longer he had his hand on your shoulder.

“I see.” he said flatly, taking his hand off of you and placing it on his belt alongside his other hand. Perhaps it was because it had been so long since you felt something like it, but you quickly missed the feeling of his hand upon your body.

“I do hope that you have enough strength to continue on with the day, Miss (F/N). I can see that you are making good progress, and it would be a shame if you did not continue as such.” he continued, tilting his head to the side.

“Y-yes, My Lord. I can continue on with the day.”

“Good.” he responded. Lifting up his hand once again, he unfurled it from it's gripping position, pointing his palm towards the ceiling as he extended it within your gripping distance. It took you a second of staring at his hand dumbly for you to register what exactly he was doing. “Do not allow me to keep you occupied then, Miss (F/N).”

Flicking your gaze from his hand to his mask over and over again, you hesitantly lifted your hand, your fingers loose. Gently placing your hand within his, another shot of blush made its way onto your cheeks. Your hand was noticeably smaller than his, your palm and fingers being dwarfed by his own. You could barely wrap your hand around his.

Once your grip was secure, Lord Vader wrapped his robotic digits around your grasp. Cue another shot of blush on your cheeks. His grip was strong, secure, stable.

Deep down within you, you wondered what it would feel like to have his hands on other parts of your body.

Helping you bring you to your feet, Lord Vader flexed his arm to pull you up off the crate. The strong motion definitely helping you to your feet, your legs only wobbling in protest for a moment before allowing you to stand again.

You were now awfully close to Lord Vader.

Only about a foot away, your hand still wrapped tightly in his.

Realizing that you had forgotten to pull your hand back, you blushed for what seemed like the fifteen-millionth time that day and slowly pulled it back. You kept your neck craned as you looked up at him, your height different now more apparent than ever. Looking right into the eyes of his black, menacing mask you mumbled out a quiet thank you, my Lord.

The two of you stood dead-locked in a galaxy-wide championship of a staring contest for a long while. The only sound that interrupted the silence between two of you were his breath and the distant rumbling of the engines of the Super Star Destroyer. Many thoughts darted through your head as you looked right at him, trying to see if you could see his eyes beneath the mask’s.

What exactly is his game here? Why didn’t he just kill me? Am I that important? Of course not, I’m just a mechanic, he could always get another one. Then why? I wish I could see his face. Don’t think that, (F/N), that would never happen. I want him to touch me again. STOP THAT, (F/N). I don’t want him to leave. I want…

Stop humoring yourself, (F/N). He sees you as his mechanic. Nothing more.

It was him that broke the silence again. A simple sentence, nothing more.

“Do not dawdle any longer, (F/N). I will return again for another report at a later time.”

You gave him a nod and a courteous yes, my Lord before he turned to leave, walking off yet again.

Sighing to yourself, you returned to your earlier position, wrapping your hand around the wrench that was still wrapped around the bolt from before. You had hoped that the bolt would have just magically loosened itself from the time you had fallen asleep to now.

With a brief complaint from your arms, you tried pulling the wrench towards you once again. Big shocker, it still didn't move. Cursing to yourself silently, you tried again. Want an even bigger shocker? It still didn’t move. Surprising, isn’t it?

Taking a step back to try and think of some other way that you could pry off this bolt, you shook out the pain from your hands, your brow furrowing.

You thought that you must be hallucinating as you stared at the wrench. Without you even touching it, the wrench had started to turn towards you, taking the stubborn bolt along with it. Your confusion only grew as it repeated this motion a few more times until, suddenly, and without warning, the bolt came undone, crashing on the floor with the wrench. The sudden noise made you flinch and jump back, your mouth opening in a silent yelp.

You were beyond bewildered. How the hell did that happen? Are you high? Hallucinating?

Quickly putting two and two together, you turned your body to the door, your lips parting. Sure enough, there he was, his hand extended it the direction of the wrench and bolt, fingers relaxed. You couldn’t believe it. You had heard the stories of this power before, his power, but you didn’t believe them. You thought it had just been people exaggerating the level of his strength. But, now, you knew that it sure as fuck wasn’t.

You should have been scared. You should have cowered in fear, knowing that all the legends you heard were true. Yet, you didn’t. You couldn’t, even.

All you could do was smile. Smile like a dopey, bumbling idiot and laugh in disbelief.

You had no idea what came over you.

Calling out a hasty thank you, my Lord, you hoped that you didn’t look as girlish and giddy to him as you felt. You hadn’t smiled like this in such a long time.

Offering nothing more than a long look and a nod, Lord Vader left the hangar, leaving you alone there once more.

You ate an extra ration that night, the ghost of Vader’s touch still lingering in your nerves.

How you craved for him to do it again.

TAGS: @spaghetti-666 , @soullesstaco , @arsonistvoyager , @robin-obsessed , @glitter-rian , @captainrexstan , @easterncryptid , @deviatedwinter , @roseangel013bf , @danicalifxrnia

#darth vader #darth vader x reader #anakin x you #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #fanfiction #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars fanfiction #fanfic #star wars fanfic

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ask-iamnotanalicorn · 4 years

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Previous: The Nightmare Moon Timeline

The Tirek’s Reign Timeline

After Nightmare Moon’s return and battle for the throne, Princess Celestia and her protégée, Princess Cadence, subdued the maddened alicorn and managed to imprison her. Celestia had no time to celebrate not having to re-banish her sister for another thousand years; she went into a deep study, searching for the missing key that would activate the Elements of Harmony and free Luna of the poison darkening her mind and feeding on her ancient wrath. Princess Cadence and her husband Shining Armor took over running the throne of Equestria, giving the sisters time to find a solution and reconciliation. She is a wise and fair leader, despite her youth, and the uneasy country began to settle.

But with Celestia so distracted and Cadence not yet trained in monitoring the ancient dungeon of Tartarus, Tirek made his escape unnoticed. He was more cautious now than in his last quest to steal Equestria’s magic: the theft of a few ponies’ magic here, the emptying of a lonely hamlet there. Rumors of a magical plague and a strange monkey-horse creature who ate magic were all Cadence and Shining Armor had to go on, and they and the Royal Service were baffled by this creature or affliction that struck and then vanished again and again. Panic began to spread through Canterlot as more and more ponies on the outskirts of the city reported their magic stolen.

By the time word of a magical plague and centaur sightings reached Celestia, the only pony present who would recognize the significance, it was too late. Tirek had gained enough magic to come into the open and make his attack. First Cadence and her husband and guards fell, unprepared for what they faced. With Cadence’s alicorn magic combined with the many ponies’ he had stolen, Tirek defeated Celestia in spite of her best efforts. And lastly, ignoring her spitting invectives, he drained Nightmare Moon, as well.

With such potent magic flowing through him, Tirek’s lust for more power grew worse than ever before. He set out to steal the magic of every pony and magical creature in Equestria - and there were none who could hope to stop him.

----

In the town of Featherhorn, there lived a young stallion with his parents, brother, and sister. He was a perfectly normal pony... or he would have been, were it not for the wings and horn he was born with. He got on alright - he had a few good friends and a supportive family, a love for his work and a faith that sustained him – but there were a number in the town who disapproved of him. He was the butt of many jokes and accusations, and often distrust. And the cultists who carried on in town caused trouble and made things worse for him, since he got the blame. He found it more and more tempting to stay out on the road, plying his trade and absorbing the confusion of strangers better than he could take the dislike of his own neighbors.

One day while the stallion was home, the town received word that a monster was coming. The monster had stolen the magic of the princesses, and now he was a giant, rampaging across the land and stealing the magic of every pony he found. He would soon be upon their town, and there was little time to flee - for who could run faster than this massive monster? Were they all doomed to lose their magic, and worse, their marks?

There was a small chance: a system of caves where they could hide, deep enough that the monster might not find them. But there was not enough time to get all the townsponies out, especially the sick and old; they could already hear the creature’s thundering hoofsteps on the horizon. If only they could distract it somehow, or slow it down... but who could hope to even do that much with a monster so powerful?

Nopony expected the young stallion, the alicorn imposter, to speak up:

“What if he believed there was another alicorn?”

The plan was dangerous. He would need help; handicapped in both flight and unicorn magic, he wouldn’t be able to fool the monster for long on his own. Few were willing - and of those who were, only a small number had the abilities that were needed. In the end, it was the stallion’s own brother and mother who helped him craft the final bits of his plan.

When the monster came upon the pony town, ready to further engorge himself with pony magic, the brown stallion appeared in the sky. He flew with confidence, bolstered by the carefully-directed winds of his expert flyer mother. His horn blazed with gold and silver light, bright as a star, aided by his magically gifted brother. And the monster believed the facade, and hungered only for more alicorn magic.

The chase lasted an hour, carefully-aimed magically bolts reflected through Sales’ horn by Pitch Black, skillful dodges aided by Pitch Forward. They had no hope of continuing the charade indefinitely, but that hour was enough; the townsponies were able to escape, hiding deep where the power-mad centaur wouldn’t find them. When at last the centaur swatted Salespitch from the sky and drained the magic from his injured body, the monster was enraged to taste such a miniscule amount. Black and Forward attempted a rescue, and were drained as well, their weakened bodies falling beside the unconscious Salespitch.

When the monster turned back to his initial target and found the town empty of all ponies - what’s more, he could not detect pony magic anywhere nearby - his wrath burned the town to cinders. But when he returned to find the ponies who had tricked him, in order to punish them further, their bodies had vanished.

Eventually, the monster left, continuing his rampage across the landscape. In a hollow of a tree, Pitch Black waited with the unconscious body of his mother and the severely injured body of his brother, the three of them blessedly undetectable now that they lacked their magic. But Black did not need his cutie mark to remember his driving purpose: to be there at the zero hour, when those he cared for needed him most.

The townsponies found them eventually; the father and daughter were overjoyed to find them alive. But Sales would not waken, though the best healers in the town mended his wounds. Badly injured and drained of magic, he slipped into a coma. Only alicorn-level healing magic might stand a chance of healing him, but that was lost to the monster.

But the town had been humbled. The one many of them had scorned the most – the pony who so hated being mistaken for something he was not – had taken up the very trait that caused him such trouble in order to give everything for the sake of those who despised him. The townsponies of Featherhorn vowed to protect him until he could be healed, and to keep away the members of his cult should they reappear to take advantage of his comatose state. And should he waken, they would treat him with the respect a hero deserved.

The monster still rampages. None in this group of refugees can hope to defeat him. But they have a refuge where they can stay safe until the nightmare has passed - and but for three of them, every pony and zebra has their magic. Perhaps one day, their fallen few will regain their magic, and the princesses will rise again.

But for now, they wait. And they guard their fallen hero.

-----

Fun Facts About The Tirek Timeline/Art:

- Yup, you guys just got a pretty close parallel to the mysterious Tirek Incident. It obviously didn’t go down quite like this in the comic timeline, but some of the important bits are in there. We’ll eventually find out what happened. I so wanted to avoid too many spoilers, but the story wouldn’t make sense without SOME of them, so... merry early Christmas, I guess XD

- And yes, I did consider letting Sales die in this timeline. But I just can’t kill off my boy. I also snuck in the meaning behind Black’s cutie mark, I’m curious to know what ya’ll think :D

- When Tirek sucked the magic out of Nightmare Moon, he unwittingly drained out the corrupting magic that was so heavily influencing Luna and fueling her rage and paranoia. Additionally, Luna got to see her sister lose her magic while fighting to protect her from Tirek. They reconcile over this event and join with Cadence to search for the missing Elements of Harmony.

- The Crystal Empire will come around because it has to, but Sombra bides his time a bit more when he realizes there’s a GIANT MAGIC-SUCKING CENTAUR hoarding the collective magic of the entire nation of Equestria, and it has bomb-blaster beams that can level towns.

- Meanwhile, a certain race of bug-ponies are infiltrating the Crystal Empire, seeking safety from the magic-eating centaur who is just TRASHING the place for fun now that he’s got so much power to chuck around. Plus there are rumors that this kingdom was once RUN on love, and Chrysalis really wants to figure that out. There’s a whole ‘nother story in there, I’m certain, and it probably involves a few specific changelings making friends with a few crystal ponies and learning about giving love. Maybe this time, without several humiliating defeats via pony love shockwaves and weaponized rainbows to harden her pride, Chrysalis might actually be willing to give it a try herself.

- This is a timeline where the princesses DO find ponies who can wield the Elements of Harmony. Ironically, Twilight was drained of magic along with the rest of Canterlot, but her studies in magic theory and history lead her to studying ancient texts about the Elements, and one thing leads to another until the princesses meet her. Also, Twilight is a bit better at making friends in this universe since she wasn’t constantly distracted with trying to please Celestia (not that I blame Celestia for the canon events, I mean look what could have been avoided in THIS timeline!). They don’t have the special Super Power-Up box and keys, but I like to think the initial power burst of the reactivated Elements does the job on Tirek as well as it was meant to on Nightmare Moon.

- No, Luna does not get the bad magic back when her magic is restored along with everyone else’s. The Elements don’t play that game, that stuff is burned. She and Celestia go back to ruling Equestria together once this is all over while Cadance works on connecting with the newly liberated Crystal Empire and their changeling allies.

- Honestly, I didn’t expect it, but this is one of my favorite of the art pieces in regards to composition and color. I just really like how the color turned out, and the magic glows. I was rather happy to find I could duplicate the effect of Tirek’s magic illustration from the show without too much trouble. :D I also borrowed a lot of tones directly from a screenshot of the show scene. It’s really nice when art things come together!

Next Week: Discorded

#mlp ask blog #mlp #tirek #pony ask blog #alicorn #salespitch #pitch black #pitch forward #celestia #luna #cadance #princess cadance #sacrifice #love

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emu-lumberjack · 4 years

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A Quick Meeting pt. 2

Damian is an exchange student in Paris, and Marinette doesn’t know too much about him, till a chance encounter provides an opportunity

I finally figured out what was going on and am finally able to post part two here, finally. I’m not gonna retag those who wanted to be tagged, (tell me if you want to be) but I will put on the post that I figured it out. Thanks for sticking with me during the technical difficulties

Read part one here

Part 3 here

part 4 here

They looked at each other vibrant blue eyes meeting piercing green. The entire class which minutes before were laughing and jeering had quieted to little more than a faint buzz. The two hadn’t said anything after they introduced themselves, both too startled to say anything else. They were left there in peace until a brunette slid between the two blocking Marinette's view of Damian.

“You must be the exchange student, I’m Lila. Don’t worry, I'll introduce you to the rest of the class and give you the tour later.” The liar herself took Damian by the elbow and dragged him off before he could say anything, still caught off guard by Marinette’s blue eyes.

There goes my chance at a friend. Marinette thought to herself fully knowing how much Lila could worm her way into anyones head. The bluenette with the sketchbook in hand went back up to her desk. She sank into her chair glad to be ignored by her former friends. Looking down she saw that most of the pages were pretty ripped up but still salvageable and right on top was the picture she had begun drawing of Damian’s eye. Grabbing her pen she started drawing the second one resolving to make it a matching pair. She was beginning to shade the second eye when a small tap on her shoulder made her jump three feet out of her chair.

“Is there someone sitting next to you?” The familiarly cold voice said.

“What? Right! No one is sitting next to me, except if you want to then I guess there is someone sitting next to me and…” Marinette tapered off as she saw Lila glaring at her. Even though she was Ladybug Marinette still wanted to avoid Lila’s ire, it was a pain to deal with at school.

Damian let out a quiet chuckle, “I guess there’s gonna be someone sitting next to you then.” He quietly sat himself down in the chair next to Marinette and started getting his books out. “Nice drawing by the way.” Marinette blushed slightly.

“Ok class time to start.” Madame Bustier said walking into the room, the conversation ceased from there, yet both parties knew they had just found a new ally.

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

“What’s up Buginette.” Chat Noir said hopping down next to Ladybug. His bell made a soft little chime.

“Ya know, just the fifth night up in a row, I have three sewing projects to do.” She paused a beat, “Hey do you know anything about that new kid in class?” It had been a few weeks after Marinette gained guardianship when they decided to reveal their identities. With Adrien dating Kagami and Marinette thoroughly over her crush they both laughed at the situation and came out as good friends, and even though Damian had been in class for a week she still knew barely anything about him.

“Same as you, exchange student from Gotham. Cold, calm, and about to murder Lila.” Chat replied. He must’ve seen Damian’s face when Lila claimed she knew the Waynes. “Why? Do you like him?” Ladybug looked over to see Chat Noir’s face was filled with mocking innocence. Ladybug blushed under her mask.

“I will push you off the Eiffel Tower, or worse yet, sick Auroroe on your and Kagami’s relationship. I can see the headline now ‘Superhero Chat Noir dating girlfriend of Adrien Agreste! What will the model do when he finds out?’” Chat gave her a half-hearted punch in the arm for that, and they both had a laugh.

A few minutes later Ladybug noticed a quick blur ducking between alleyways. She gave Chat a nudge, “Did you see that?”

“See what?” He responded groggily.

“I thought I saw something ducking between the allies. It’s nothing”

“Ladybug, I know you, if you thought you saw something you saw something. I’d say go check it out. If it’s nothing, no big deal.”

“Alright, I’ll be back so don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.” she smirked back at him, without looking she threw her yoyo in the direction of the blur and swung herself out.

“That happened one time!” He yelled after her.

Ladybug swung through the alleys looking for the blur when she spotted a small light out of the corner of her eye. There it is. She stopped her approach when she heard a low voice murmur

“Yes Kent I will get you those pastries you can pick them up tomorrow?” It was Damian, Ladybug would have known the voice anywhere. She opened up her yoyo to call Chat “Hey meet me at the eiffel tower in five minutes.” Now all she had to figure out how she would get Damian up to the tower.

It didn’t take the superheroine to think up an idea. Sorry. She thought to herself before throwing her yoyo his way.

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

Damian had just disconnected the call when he felt a cool wire wrap around his body. I do not need this right now he thought to himself as he was whipped up from the ground and into the arms of a familiar red and black clad superheroine.

“Ya know you could have just asked.” He said annoyed.

“But where’s the fun in that, and anyway I’ve got some questions for you.” her voice was lighter than it had been the other day, probably because there was no villain to fight.

She carried him up to a part of the Eiffel tower not easily seen by the public, where she proceeded to tie him dangling upside down by her yoyo.

“Whyyy.” he grumbled to himself, if he wanted this kind of treatment he would have stayed in Gotham with Todd.

“Ok first question, big one here. Do you know who I am?” She said sitting down.

“I don’t know your hero name, although I think your partner said Ladybug the other day, right after his terrible pun.”

“Rude.” A black clad boy said coming out of the shadows. A tail swished behind him.

“Well it’s true, you’re almost as bad as Grayson.” Damian was getting tired of this, he tried to feel into his pockets for his knife, before remembering he had left it back at his apartment.

“Everyone knows I’m Ladybug, I’m asking if you know who I am outside of the mask.” Damian turned towards the girl when she spoke.

“Well yeah. It’s rather hard to hide the blue hair.” And I’d never forget those blue eyes. The thought surprised even him.

She said something under her breath before looking at him, “This could be an issue, but if you already know then I guess there’s no use in trying to tell you off. I’m surprised, but I guess despite your looks you’re actually rather smart.”

The boy next to her let out a small laugh. “Are you going to introduce us Buginette, or am I going to have to guess.”

“Chat Noir, meet Damian. Damian meet Chat Noir.”

“So you’re the new exchange student. Ya know, put you in a fancy suit and add a little more scowl I’d think you were the Damian Wayne.” This warranted a rare laugh from Damian who after a few moments said,

“Because I am.” Chat Noir and Ladybug went pale. Damian took advantage of them being dumbstruck to feel into his pocket, There it is! He felt his phone, with a few taps he was able to hopefully get Jon’s contact up after all it was the last one he texted. He typed:

Eiffel Tower. Get here now.

“Oh. Shit.” the soft expletive dragged him from the texting. Marinette. No Ladybug in this costume, looked at him. “Lila’s new lie. Oh, my Kwamii. She’s gonna get it.”

“What’s the lie?” Chat Noir and Damian said at the same time.

“She said she’s dating, well, you.” She looked at Damian, after a beat the costume clad heroes burst into laughing, Damian looked horrified. He knew about her lying about knowing his family but this was new.

The giggling of the two heroes was interrupted when a blue blur came out of nowhere a few minutes later, and a moment after that the blur solidified into the form of a boy who had a too familiar blue suit. Damian who had just been swinging upside down was now being carried bridal style by the boy.

“We never speak of this to anyone.” He said in a low voice to Jon. “If my brothers find out I will personally end you.”

“Yeah, yeah. You say that every time I have to come save you.” The boys southern twang was more prominent than usual, probably because Damian had been spending so much time around the French. A soft “Ahem” broke the two out of their talking..

“Hello, who are you, what are you doing here…”

“And would you mind putting down the angry child.” Chat interrupted Ladybug.

“I am your age cat boy.” Damian responded, his voice may have been cool but there was a slight blush to his cheeks.

“Oh yeah. Sorry, I just got a text from Damian here saying ‘Rival them get here now.’ I had to ask Con to help, but we figured Damian meant the Eiffel Tower.” Jon put Damian down and handed the yoyo back to Ladybug. “Anyway I figured if Damian was asking for help then he actually needed it. Also my names J-”

“Superboy.” Damian interrupted before Jon could give away his secret identity. Again. Ladybug was looking at Damian, probably wondering why he had Superboys phone number, she’d hopefully come to the same conclusion everyone else did. That the youngest Wayne got into enough trouble he needed a fast way to contact the supers.

“Good to meet you superboy, I’m Ladybug and this is Chat Noir.” She took her gaze off Damian to focus it on Superboy. “Will you be in Paris long?”

“I’ll probably stay the night, make sure no one else tries to hurt Damian. Plus there's a bakery I really want to go to when it opens, the Dupain-Cheng Bakery. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.” Ladybug paled a little bit and looked at Damian.

“He doesn’t know, he’s just focused on his stomach.” Ladybug breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hey that's rude.” Jon said to Damian.

“It’s me, you expect anything different.”

“Ladybug gave a snort, “Well as funny as this is I need to talk to Damian alone, Chat can you handle patrol for a little bit? Maybe take Superboy show him around Paris for a bit.”

“Yeah I’ve got it.” with a mock bow he motioned for Superboy to follow him. Jon recognizing a fellow weeb on sight asked him about anime, and the two went off singing some theme song from their favorite anime.

“I’m suddenly very glad I’m not on patrol.” Ladybug said quietly to Damian.

“Agreed.”

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

It had been a long night for Marinette, first finding out Damian was a Wayne then meeting Superboy, she had to get him alone before she exploded.

“So what did you want to talk about?” Damian turned his green eyes towards her.

“I have several questions, but is there somewhere more private we could talk?” The Paris night grew colder as the stood still.

“Yeah, we can talk at my place.” Which is how Marinette Dupain-Cheng wound up drinking hot coco sitting on the couch at Damian Wayne's apartment.

“I can’t believe that your father lets you stay in the apartment on your own.”

“Well I’m seventeen, he knows I can take care of myself. Plus he either has one of my brothers videochat me, or pop in for a ‘quick visit’ which is their version of making sure I haven’t done some irreparable damage to anything.” He said, pouring himself a cup of tea.

“Fair enough, now do you want to tell me why you were slinking in the alleys?” She said.

“Well I needed some air. And I was maybe… looking for you.” He begrudgingly said the last part.

Marinette blushed a little bit, “And why were you looking for me?”

“Well learning that Paris has heroes, plus getting saved by one makes me a little curious. Plus after class the other day I wanted to talk.” He took a sip of his tea.

“Alright. Also since you apparently know superboy,” Marinette was still surprised about that fact, “there’s something I wanted to ask you about.”

“Ok, shoot.”

“I noticed that ever since you came here a week ago Robin, usually right next to Batman, hasn’t been seen. Red Robin has been popping up, but no Robin. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?” Although she tried to make her voice as non confrontational as possible, she still saw Damian pale. He tried to mask it by drinking his tea but Marinette still saw how he hesitated before he said,

“I don’t know Robin, I know Superboy because he is freakishly friendly and helps out around Gotham a lot.” Marinette noticed how he stared at his drink the entire time he was explaining it to her. She was debating about pushing the point further before he interrupted saying, “It wouldn’t matter if I knew him or not, the Bats all keep their identities close to their chests. No one knows who any of them are.” When he was done he looked up at Marinette, she noticed how his eyes were pleading with her to just go with it, so she did.

“Ok, so what did you want to talk about regarding Paris’ heroes.” He looked relieved, finally able to change the topic.

“Well, how did you get your powers? How long have you been active? Who are you facing? And why haven’t you called the Justice League for help?” He fired off the questions, not giving her a chance to respond.

“One at a time,” she laughed, “We get our powers from our kwamis, little gods who reside in the miraculous jewel, my kwami is named Tikki.” At mention of her name the Kwami came out and gave a little hello. “We’ve been active for about 3 years, we’re facing a villain named Hawkmoth who can use people's emotions and turn them into villains. And we did call the Justice League for help when we first started.. Green Lantern told us not to prank call him again.” When Marinette finished Damian looked angry. Mainly at the Green Lantern bit she mentioned.

“I’ll have to talk to Superboy about it.” His voice which had been warming up suddenly felt icy.

“Speaking of which I should get back to Chat, before he and superboy decide to test their powers on each other.” Setting her cup down on the coffee table she stood up. “Thanks for the hot chocolate, and the conversation Damian, I’ll make sure to send Superboy your way. See you in class.” She said her transformation words followed by a quick “bug-out” before leaping through the window.

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

Damian sat in the suddenly empty room which smelled like freshly baked bread. Marinette was true to her promise and a few minutes later Supreboy came crashing through the window. After he changed he spent the next ten minutes telling Damian about how he and Chat went around the city just talking about anime, and the differences between English and French dubs. Both eventually agreeing subbed was the best. Damian wasn’t listening instead thinking about Marinette. Smarter than she seems he thought to himself, afterall she came very close to figuring out who he was. He made a mental note to his father that they need a Robin appearance soon.

“Damian. Damian! Are you even listening to me?” Jon’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Sorry Kent I was thinking about someone else.” Jon looked at Damian incredulously.

“I might need to get my ears cleaned. Did you just say you were thinking about someone else?! Was it that superhero Ladybug? Do you like her?” Damian’s fury was undercut by the blush that appeared on his face.

“I don’t like anyone Kent you know that, and anyway she’s a hero with a mask. I can’t like anyone who is still wearing a mask around me.” Damian set his cup down a little harder than he needed to.

“I’m sure the great detective can figure out who's behind that mask pretty easily.”

“Keep it up Kent and I’ll be sending you back to Metropolis tonight. The hard way.”

Jon held his hands up in defeat. “Fine. Fine, but you and I are going to that bakery tomorrow.”

Damian looked at Jon, “The Dupain-Cheng Bakery?” A plan was forming in his head.

“That’s the one.”

“Not a bad idea.” It was time to talk to Marinette outside of class, and outside of the mask.

#marinette dupen chang #marinette x batfam #damian x marinette #dcxml #damianette #platonic lady noir #platonic adrienette #chat noir #ladybug #adrien agreste

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mysticm3ss · 4 years

Note

Could u pls write headcanons/a fanfic about RFA+(V & Saeran if u want to) getting MC pregnant but MC tries to hide her pregnancy (for any reason) and around 3 months later when her stomach starts to grow RFA find her pregnancy test hidden away somewhere and confront her about it. I know u already wrote a headcanon about their kids but I just love any sort of headcanon/fanfic about baby’s and pregnancy’s yknow. Btw I love your requests broski. Your a good writer. Sorry if my English not good lol

sure thing, thank you for requesting and thank you for the compliments! don’t worry your english is perfect!

so i wrote this literally months ago and forgot it was in my drafts, i’m sorry it’s taken so long to get up!! i rly enjoyed proofreading this bc i’m studying developmental psyc at uni right now and it’s lowkey giving me mad baby fever lmao

(leaving out jaehee for this one bc she ain’t out here getting anyone pregnant, like even if she had a penis she’d be too responsible for that to happen unless it was planned anyway let’s b real. also i varied the way the boys found out a bit as well just so things don’t get too repetitive, hope that’s okay!)

Yoosung:

The thing you have to know about Yoosung is that he is very small and has no money, so you can only imagine the stress he’s under~

Jokes aside, when you realise you’re pregnant, your first reaction is panic.

You and your boyfriend are both so young–you’re not even old enough to have graduated college yet, how are you going to take care of a child?

It takes you a solid month or two just to come to terms with the pregnancy yourself.

When you finally think you’re feeling brave enough to bring it up to him, the thought of what his family might think acts as another hindrance–he seemed to have a perfect family, and Yoosung himself had admitted they were somewhat conservative… how would they react to your situation?

While you’re busy still coming to terms with it, however, Yoosung accidentally stumbles upon the pregnancy test you had so cleverly hidden in the bathroom cabinet.

You’d slipped it into a box of toiletries, snugly hidden between the myriad of tampons and pads that it held. When Yoosung accidentally knocked it from the cabinet, he scrambled to tidy up, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he tucked away the sanitary products.

He froze when he saw the test, mind whirring as he struggled to explain away the white stick in his hand.

There was no explaining away those two pink lines, however, and so that night, he dared to broach the subject with you.

He fiddled nervously with his hands as he sat on your shared bed, eyes looking everywhere except your face when you entered the room.

“Yoosung… is everything okay?”

A shaky breath. “MC… are you… you’d tell me if something big happened, right? Like… like if you got pregnant or something?”

The guilt-ridden look on your face was all the answer he needed.

Your eyes welled up, and Yoosung’s arms were instantly around you, pulling you against him as he squeezed you tight despite his own shock.

“MC, why wouldn’t you tell me? How long?” His words were soft; gentle whispers into your ear as his fingers combed through your hair.

When you explained your worries, Yoosung’s heart instantly melted, and he felt guilty that he’d never realised what you’d been going through the past few months.

“Don’t worry about my family, MC– don’t worry about anything at all. I love you, and I love this baby, and we’re going to be so happy, okay? I’m right here, cutie, I’m right here…”

And though your face was buried in his shirt, Yoosung could still feel your smile.

Zen:

We all know that Zen is super-focussed on his career, and in turn, works long hours with early starts and late finishes.

His busy schedule and blooming career is the first thing to cross your mind as you stare at the two glaring pink lines on your pregnancy test.

How were you going to tell him? How would he react? His career was just beginning to take off… what if he didn’t want children so soon?

How were you supposed to deal with that..?

And so, spiralling into uncertainty, you decide to put off telling him for as long as possible; to enjoy your relationship for what it was now, in case it all fell apart.

As a result of Zen’s schedule, it’s not too gruelling to hide your pregnancy from your boyfriend.

You usually wake up to brutal morning sickness hours after he’s already left for work, and your fluctuating hormones generally only make their presence known while you’re on your own.

Regardless, Zen is extremely observant, especially when it comes to his jagiya.

He idly notices that you’ve gained weight, but he’d never bring it up; he honestly doesn’t care, so long as you’re healthy, which you certainly seem to be with how radiant you’ve been the past couple of months.

He does, however, notice that you’re keeping something from him. As to what, he’s not sure.

Zen trusts you wholly and completely, so it doesn’t even cross his mind that you could be hiding anything too big from him (at least, at first).

He figures that maybe you’re just planning a surprise for him, as he’s done a number of times for you in the past few years that the two of you have been dating.

When he comes back early one evening to see that you’re not at home, he sets about making dinner for the two of you and decides to get a head start on the chores.

He knows that he’s slacked off on his household duties lately, and the least he can do is pick up a few now that he has some time at home so that you don’t have to worry about them later.

While your favourite meal is warming on the stove, Zen strips the bed of sheets and gathers your dirty laundry into the hamper.

When he returns with a load of freshly dried clothes, he begins to pack them away. As he folds your underwear and tucks them into the drawer, he notices what seems to be a piece of paper peeking out from beneath the neatly folded fabric.

Confused, he pulls it out, his breath catching as he sees the ultrasound.

He reads your name and the date over and over, unable to even comprehend that you could keep something like this from him.

He’s crushed that you hadn’t told him, and immediately falls into denial.

This has to be a prank, right? MC would never keep something like this from me…

He’s still frozen, sonogram clutched in hand, when you arrive home.

Zen looks up at you, eyes pleading and face soft with vulnerability as he wordlessly begs an explanation.

“…MC?”

His voice is so quiet and broken that it kills you.

You gently explain that it’s real; that this isn’t a tasteless prank but, in fact, reality. Zen takes a deep breath to steel himself.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me? Don’t you think I’d want to be there, especially for this?” he demands, voice ringing with pain and rising in anger as he holds up the sonogram still crinkled in his fist.

It takes a bit of explaining on your part, but Zen’s hot temper gets the best of him as he shakes his head and turns away from you. Tears prick your eyes.

“Don’t you see, Zen? This is what I was afraid of!” Your voice cracks, and Zen spares a glance back at you, immediately softening as he sees your glistening eyes and the tears beginning to stain your cheeks.

“MC… I love you. I love this baby. I’d never leave, you know that, don’t you, jagi?” His voice is hushed, his heart breaking as he leans in to brush a tear from your face with his thumb.

“You can’t keep things like this from me, princess… not something this big. If you’re worried, talk to me, okay? I’m in this with you. Forever, remember?”

His arms fall around your shoulders as he crushes you to his chest, before pulling away in panic.

“Crap! Was that too tight? Did I hurt the baby?!”

You laugh, and the sound is music to Zen’s ears as you drag him in for another hug.

Jumin:

When you wake up to a sudden wave of nausea, Jumin’s first reaction is concern.

“O-oh, it’s nothing, it must just be something I ate…”

“I see. I must speak with the chef who cooked for us last night, this is a disgusting oversight on his par-”

No Jumin don’t fire the chef ohmygod

You barely manage to calm Jumin down before you’re huddled over the toilet once more, and he lets all remaining traces of fury evaporate as he focusses on holding back your hair and rubbing your back soothingly.

All the while, your mind can’t help but dart back to the pregnancy test that you’d hidden at the bottom of the wastebasket.

You knew you couldn’t keep this a secret from your husband forever; and in your head, you knew that everything would work out just fine. It wasn’t like you couldn’t afford a child, you had more than enough money to provide for them, it was just…

The two of you hadn’t been together for that long; not really. And although that didn’t diminish your love for one another, it didn’t change the fact that Jumin was still just getting used to being emotionally vulnerable and opening himself up to other people.

Would children be too much, too quickly?

He’d never even expressed interest in having children before; he was far too occupied with you and your relationship, enjoying the joys of the present and letting the future bring what it may.

And although you manage to hide your continual morning sickness from him for a little while, you know that as soon as you start to show, you won’t be able to put it off any longer.

When you wake up feeling nauseous yet again, Jumin declares it the final straw.

“MC, you’re clearly ill. I’m phoning a doctor,” he says, voice stern and leaving no room for disagreement. “I should let Assistant Kang know that I won’t be in for work today…”

Your weak protests fall on deaf ears, and barely half an hour later, Jumin is opening the door…

You didn’t realise that “phoning a doctor” entailed bringing in a whole team of specialists in various medical fields.

They check your vitals, and when you hear them begin to murmur about blood tests, you break.

“Jumin, this isn’t necessary!”

“What? Of course it is–they can help, MC. There’s clearly something wrong-”

“Jumin, I’m pregnant!” you snap, the words falling from your lips before you can register their utterance. Jumin’s eyes widen, and he clears his throat as deafening silence falls over the room.

“Excuse us,” he manages, and the team of specialists quickly and awkwardly take their leave.

Honestly, he’s lowkey offended that you kept it from him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice is stiff and cold, and your heart sinks as you feebly attempt to explain.

“Do you honestly think so low of me? Do you truly not trust me, after everything that we’ve been through?” he asks, voice hard.

That’s when you start to cry.

Damn hormones!

Jumin immediately softens, pulling you into his arms.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… you’re right. I do trust you, I swear, I was just… I was scared,” you finally managed, voice thick with tears.

And though it takes a little while, Jumin understands. And once the shock has faded, the small smile that tugs up the corner of his lips betrays the excitement that your news has brought him.

“We’ll have to start thinking of names, hmm?”

Seven:

You could hardly call the life that Seven led “safe.”

The risks that come with his job hardly provide an environment fit to raise a child, a thought that instantly flashed through your mind the instant you saw the two lines on the pregnancy test.

You swallow hard, hands shaking as you move to rest a hand over your stomach. If you had to guess, you’d wager that you were at least eight weeks along…

God, had Seven ever mentioned even wanting kids before?

But despite your worries, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of delight at the idea of raising children with the man you loved so dearly.

Still, that didn’t mean you knew how to tell him.

Luckily, you had time. Seven had been sent on a mission for the agency only that morning, and he wouldn’t be back for at least a month.

Although the news had been initially devastating, you were half-beginning to consider it somewhat of a blessing in disguise… at least you could figure out how to break it to him now, right? It wasn’t like you could break news like that over the phone, after all.

When Seven does finally arrive home, he wastes no time in sweeping you into his arms and planting tiny kisses all across your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, drinking in your warmth and softness and desperately attempting to atone for all the time with you that he had missed.

After finally pulling away, Seven easily notices that you’ve gained weight–of course, he’d never mention it; you were always beautiful to him.

Regardless, he can’t help but observe that you really do seem to be glowing.

Saeyoung knows you well enough to easily realise that you’re keeping something from him. He sees the nervous twitch of your fingers, the tightness of your smile…

And so, when the two of you cuddle up on the couch later that evening, Seven pressing kisses to your hair and clinging to you like a baby koala, he finally brings it up.

“Sooo… what aren’t you telling me, MC?” he asks, playfully poking your side despite the worry that claws at his chest.

What if they want to break up? Oh god, what if-

He finds himself so lost in his own concerns that when the words finally fall from your lips, it takes him a moment to process them.

“W-what?”

“I’m… I’m pregnant, Sae.”

You hold your breath, and only release it when you see the huge smile stretch over his face, brighter than the sun and just as warm.

And just like that, you know that everything is going to be just fine.

“If it’s a girl, can we name her Elizabeth?” “Seven nO-”

hope you enjoyed, please reblog/comment if you did! ^^

#mystic messenger #mm #jumin han #saeyoung choi #707 #hyun ryu #zen #yoosung kim #mm jumin #mm saeyoung #mm zen #mm yoosung #mysme #mysme zen #mysme jumin #mysme seven #saeyoung choi x reader #mm headcanons #hyun ryu x reader

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aching-tummies · 3 years

Note

Have you ever dealt with food-restriction or ED or whatever?

I really debated answering this one. I understand that it's a sensitive topic for a lot of people, and I do go into some personal details with my struggles, so I'm going to put most of that under a cut.

I know a lot of blogs have something like "we do not stan ED in this house" and that's the extent of their address on the topic and some get pretty angry if anyone even mentions ED around them. I get it, it's a triggering topic and it can be unhealthy and maybe hearing about it or seeing it or whatever pushes someone (back) into bad habits. I understand all that. In my opinion though, shutting down the topic is problematic. I believe that destigmatization saves lives--and not just for ED. Making it a dirty little secret and something one feels ashamed of talking about or struggling with creates more problems. It doesn't go away just because someone feels they cannot talk about it. I'm on the side of destigmatization--where "how are you" is an actual question rather than a casual greeting where "good" or "great" are the only acceptable answers. No--it's supposed to be a question and we shouldn't have to feel ashamed when we are going through crap. Maybe neither party has time to get into it then and there and maybe the other party isn't comfortable/or the right person to go to with those particular issues...but "how are you" is supposed to be a genuine question, not a greeting.

Short answer to whether or not I've dealt with food-restriction or ED: yes.

I don't want to invite drama onto my blog with this...but I think it's time I said something on the topic. For one, I'm sick of how people go "we don't stan ana on this blog--GTFO" and leave the discussion at that. I don't think that is healthy. People that actually struggle with EDs and Ana maybe want to get help...but professional/formal help is not always accessible and not necessarily always the right tool for what they are going through in that moment. I understand that EDs are unhealthy and I am not trying to glorify them...but I want to say that I care about the people struggling with the stuff and I admire their resilience. There's enough shaming going on around the world and I'm not going to dish it out to someone struggling with an ED. I'm not going to make it out to be something that's taboo to talk about like it's some dirty little secret. I want to de-stigmatize it. I want a world where someone can be like, "I struggle with food/eating and I had a setback last night" and those of us listening can be like, "Alright. Is there something you need/want me to do with that information? How can I help?" Currently, I see a lot of, "Shh! That's a triggering topic! Do you want to set off all the other ED suffer-ers in here?! Don't talk about that noise!" even in my IRL friend groups and I think it's just sad. These are the same friends that are constantly reblogging, "It's okay to not be okay" and “I’m a safe person to tell stuff to” stuff but clearly they don't believe that.

The way I see it, living with EDs is like living with a pet alligator. It was once small and cute and early on maybe you made one choice: you chose to keep it. Great...well, now it's grown and it's a problem and you don't know what to do with a full-grown alligator that eyes you like you're it's next meal. Who do you talk to when everyone shuts you down and maybe there isn't an "animal control" number you can reach out to because it's expensive or it doesn't exist in your area or they're so over-booked that you'll be alligator-chum before they get to you? That's how I see ED. It's terrifying but it's still 'your' pet alligator, even if you feel more like it's pet human at times.

Onto the personal aspects.

I've never been officially diagnosed with an ED and I don't believe I've ever done something that's extremely dangerous on this front. That being said I have (and sometimes still do) struggle with intrusive thoughts about my body.

I'm "average" sized...maybe on the bigger side of average in North America...however, there's a different standard in Asian culture. Like the "Asian F". I was always told I was supposed to be smaller. I was supposed to be no more than 5'3, no more than 110lbs, have a bust no bigger than 34C, and be able to fit into anything marketed to teens and up. Yeah...I'm none of that.

I'm going to try not to rant and get angry and upset...so here goes, take 7 on trying to answer this.

I grew up surrounded by judgmental adults. I eat and I'm fat; I refuse to eat or eat less and I'm exhibiting worrisome behavior. My take away: I bring dishonour on my cow no matter what I do. Sure, there are those that'll be like, "they'll judge me whether I eat or not so I may as well eat some good food"...yeah...that's not me. Choosing to skip the meal and the company entirely is the only way I feel/felt like I 'win'...but as a child that wasn't an option.

I mostly ate alone in University, but my brain filled in for the silence of judgmental comments. If I ate my whole lunch in one sitting I'd get upset with myself. I'd pack smaller portions and I'd be aware they were smaller, but I'd still be upset with myself for finishing it...or even finishing it and still being hungry. If I caved and bought a sugary drink or a snack or something because it looked good, I'd scold myself for using up the food budget as well as the calories budget. I used to break apart individual cookies--one cookie would take 3-4 sittings/days for me to allow myself to finish because I'd only allow myself two fractured pieces at a time. Some days, i.e. weekends, I'd intentionally skip a meal or two and rationalize that I was simply indulging in kink and that I'd eat later. I always did end up eating later and going about my life as normal. "Fasting once in a while is supposed to be healthy", I'd tell myself...but I won't deny that there was some part of me that would tell me that every skipped meal and calorie ignored was gradually working toward shrinking my body.

Despite how it sounds, I wasn't actually doing noticable damage to my body. Physically, I was within the realm of healthy...maybe on the bigger side of average and definitely not mentally sound...but my body was fine. My body didn't change--I didn't gain or lose weight. I ate...I just felt bad about it and beat myself up about it. In retrospect, it was a heck of a lot of mental anguish I did to myself with nothing to show for it.

Life after University is pretty stressful. Stress doesn't agree with my tummy so I got (and still get) frequent upset stomachs. I've become pretty conscious of eating and how my stomach feels so I end up being careful to eat less so that there is less to upset my tummy. I do it because an upset stomach is inconvenient...but I do enjoy the fact that it seems I have lost a little weight. Losing weight isn't a big part of my rational though. My coworkers have mentioned that I look thinner. I don’t see much of a change when I look in the mirror...but my belt does up two notches tighter without too much fuss so I guess I have slimmed down just a smidge. I didn't intend to lose weight, I just cut down on eating because I didn't want to deal with so many upset stomachs...I think I'm allowed to enjoy the unintentional weight loss without it being a problem...but if I had a problem then I guess what I think about this situation doesn't count for much.

I wish I was thinner--just enough to fit into acceptable sizes in the women's section. Enough to not feel like "the big one" when among my friends. I don't idealize the extremes of weight-loss...like...I don't want to be able to count my ribs or have my joints be wider around than my biceps or whatever. And I don't feel like I'm obsessed with losing weight/being thinner. It's something I want...but I also want a burrito and a can of Cola. I tend to partake more than I deny myself nowadays...just in smaller portions. I’ll still get mad at myself for indulging...but I do indulge and try to lessen the mental kicking by splitting things between two meals or something. I still break apart my cookies and eat them over the course of a couple of days...but most of that is because I run out of time to enjoy the treat or because I want to ration it so that I don't have to spend money to buy another one every single time. I don't try to count calories and all that. I still see eating less as a good thing...but I'll still eat a decent portion...I won't pick at my food rather than eat it.

My opinion here, but I don't think I'm unhealthily obsessing over weight and body issues and stuff. They're a part of my life but I don't think they do enough to be super problematic at this stage in my life.

And now onto the tie-in with the content on this blog. I've answered quite a few asks about how I feel about 'stuffing' and the thing that rhymes with "Geight Wain" with "for reasons I don't want to share, I'm not comfortable with that stuff". Most of the reasons I was thinking of for those asks is covered in the personal stuff above. I'm not comfortable with stuffing and the big "double-u gee" because for all of my life I've felt or internalized some judgements about body size and weight. It's very upsetting for me. It's also why I hate a lot of the degradation talk and things mentioning chub or fat or rolls or whatever--because it brings be back to being a kid sitting amongst judgmental adults feeling ashamed of how much of the universe’s matter I took up. If other people like those tags they're free to do so...I just don't want that sort of thing shoved into my face or imposed onto me because it makes me feel bad and makes me remember bad times. I’m into tum-kink and stuff and would love to indulge IRL with an actual partner someday...but I don’t think I will ever be comfortable with putting on weight or even RPing something like that. The thought of getting bigger terrifies me and it’s not something I want encouragement for personally. You do you if that’s what you’re into...just leave me out of it.

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flowerslightning · 4 years

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(Part 2) Cloud Strife and his Mental Illness

a.k.a Psychiatric Disorder

| 1. Memory | ⇦ Click if u havent read it yet

2. Hallucinations, Illusions and Delusions

Since these three things relate well with Cloud's troubled memories, I'll be talking about them first before jumping to his Confused Personality

This post will bore u a bit or maybe a lot 😂 it depends. If ure interested with psychiatric stuff, u'll find this enjoyable as much as i do

Disclaimer : I'm 21 and still a tiny meany student. During my intern at Psychiatric Department, I learned and witnessed psychiatric problems from real life patients. And since Cloud (my fav FF character) has psychiatric issues, I'll be sharing some of my knowledge and interpretation of Cloud's character. Im not diagnosing him, rather i'm giving my own opinion about his status

@nibelheiim created a post about dissociation, she explained about hallucination, PTSD and more. Come and check her out! Her words were more direct and easier to understand. She explained about Psychological matter and she's a real psychology student too!

While my explanation will be more focusing on Psychiatric Topic and words used will be more complicated (with grammar errors). My facts will be based on ICD 10 and DSM-IV

A lot of people were confused with these three terms - Hallucination Illusion Delusion - These terms associated with abnormalities of perception. It is important to understand that this abnormality holds two keys; ● 1. Perception is the process of becoming aware of what is presented through the sense organs. ● 2. Imagery is an experience originating within the mind that usually lacks the sense of reality that is part of perception.

Abnormalities of perceptions have 4 theme, but I'll be focusing on two major types that relate with Cloud: (i) Hallucinations ; (ii) Illusions. Some cases, perception can be normal in intensity and quality but has a changed meaning for the person who experiences it - it is called as Delusional Perception. It is not an abnormal of perceptions, rather it is a disorder of a person's thinking.

Try guessing, how many from these terms does Cloud has?

1. Hallucinations

- A perception experienced in the absence of external stimulus to the corresponding sense organ. Eg - patient hears a voice when no one is speaking within a hearing distance or patient sees something approaching him when visually no one is there. There are 2 qualities to determine a hallucination: ●it is experienced as a true perception●it seems to come from outside of the head●

The above gif, where Sephiroth suddenly appear again before Cloud's eyes even able to touch Aerith's shoulder, it illustrate perfectly the 'Visual Hallucination'. No one can see Sephiroth, other than Cloud himself.

Cloud [Remake] kinda had anxiety when he stared at the fire and later he saw Sephiroth surrounded with flames, then poof, that silver guy disappeared along with the images of fire. He said he was hallucinating stuff after the first bombing mission. Idk how Sephiroth could create fake images of fire around him, either Cloud was really hallucinating or it was really Sephiroth that came to see him. But, this is what we call as 'Visual and Auditory Hallucinations'. Cloud SAW Sephiroth and HEARD him talking when no one else did. I can also add in 'Tactile Hallucination' because he probably felt the burning sensation on his skin from the flame around him that caused him to feel hot and sweating, or probably it was his anxiety that caused him sweating upon meeting Sephiroth with the flashback of his burning hometown

Hallucinations can occur in all sensory modalities; visual, olfactory, auditory etc. In the Remake, the Whispers could only be seen by certain people. To those who couldnt see it, they would be puzzled what was happening to u, and would've thought that u were hallucinating something, like in the case of Aerith.

In Cloud's case, perhaps Cloud [In OG] had auditory hallucination due to his severe case of Mako Addiction. But then, that wasnt exactly a hallucination though, cuz the thing he said "'Coming.. They're coming" was actually true. A monster fell from the sky.

Other 'hallucinations' that Cloud had was the images of Sephiroth that appeared in certain headache. Cloud may claimed it was his hallucinations, but i've read it somewhere that says it was really Sephiroth appeared before his eyes. Sephiroth was messing with Cloud's mind, trying to break his mental in order to control him. However, IF IT WASNT SEPHIROTH that came, Cloud's 'hallucination' would be known as a mental disorder that may lead to severe case - eg Schizophrenia.

2. Illusions

An illusion is a misperception of an external stimulus. It often occur in several circumstances: (i)level of sensory stimulation reduced (ii)attention is not focused on the sensory modality (iii)level of consciousness reduced (iv)being in a state of intense emotion- fear.

Does Cloud has it? Urm, maybe? Well, it can be proven when he saw his 'noisy neighbour next door' as Sephiroth. As stated above, illusions occur in 4 conditions, and Cloud was in number (i) and (iv). When Tifa yelled him to stop, Cloud came back to reality and got really confused when the 'Sephiroth' that attacked him was actually a sick guy. We can also add in 'Hallucinations of Deep sensation' in this scenario bcause Cloud experienced the feelings of being pushed down by 'Sephiroth'.

However, we all know that 'Sephiroth' was real at that moment. For Cloud, he thought it was an illusion, but for us the audience, it was a real thing.

If u want a better explanation and example, try watching Joker the movie. The main theme of the movie was 'mental illness'. There are lots of scenes that shows different type of hallucinations, illusions and also personality disorder.

3. Delusions

a.k.a fixed false belief. A belief that is held firmly despite evidence contrary. A delusion is nearly always a false belief but not always so. There are around 11 types of delusions according to the book. Half of it may suggest Shcizophrenia. Schizophrenia is certainly not in Cloud's case. I've studied one by one the type of delusions and none of them match with Cloud FF7.

I will surely give anyone a good punch in the face if they dare to say Cloud suffers from Schizophrenia. I've met with bunch of patients having it, and the way they see this world is totally different from us.

In some other cases, eg a spiritualist convince a person to believe in his spiritualism and he present with contrary evidence to the non-believer. This non-delusional belief is called 'overvalued ideas'

Overvalued ideas is an isolated , preoccupying and strongly held belief that dominates a person's life and may affect his action. One of the easiest example i can come up with; a friend who had skin cancer may be convinced to her roomate that cancer is contagious, and her roomate suspects any abnormal skin conditions she has is an evidence to show she too, may have developed the same cancer, when the truth is, she's just completely fine.

It is very hard to distinguish between a delusion and overvalued ideas.

I had a patient, he was diagnosed with Schizophrenia. He looked like an ordinary man, but when he talked, it sounded so unreal. He said he had jumped off from 10th floor several times and didnt get a scratch from it. He believed he wont die bcause he had gained super power. He even convinced me to try his 'so-called-secret technique- on how to survive a jump. By doing that often, I will have a superpower like him - a strong physical body. Up until now, I still dont know if he was being deluded with his thought or he was overvalued his idea, bcause from his psychiatric record, he did try to jump off from the second floor of his apartment's balcony a few times.

So, Im not really sure of myself did Cloud [FF7] really had delusion or not. Well, he believed he made it to SOLDIER bcause he had mako eyes. But was it something we called as delusion or was he just overvaluing his idea? He didnt know the truth and his memory messed up. No one could explain to him why he had Mako eyes, except Prof Hojo and Zack who knew the truth

Besides, after Tifa helped with his memory, Cloud accepted the fact he wasnt in SOLDIER. For patient who deluded with their own thoughts, they hardly could believe what people told him.

However, surely Cloud [in AC] had delusions of guilt and worthlessness due to the fact that he believed he had done something shameful and sinful - the main trigger of this theme was, he got infected with Geostigma while he was searching a cure for Denzel. Cloud got depressed with the loss of Aerith and the memory of Zack death had returned, but I think he was recovering very well in that two years time skip. The moment he got Geostigma, he became deluded he was worthless and his depression kicked in again.

Hallucinations and Illusions are normal to be experienced by healthy people, but it wont be if u encounter too many hallucinations & illusions in 2 weeks time. Believe it or not, a lot of people around us are actually mentally ill bcause some of them may have excessive certain delusions, such as delusions of jealousy, grandiose delusions, nihilistic, paranoid etc. Although 'it is consider as normal' in a few circumstance, a few cases need to refer to psychologist and in severer cases, must refer to psychiatrist. If u follow Dr Phil's show, u'll see a bunch of patients have different kind of crazy delusions.

Overall from my statement above, I would conclude that since Sephiroth always appear before Cloud's eyes, this resulting Cloud to think he has both Hallucination and Illusion, when in fact, he's just a normal guy with amnesia and personality confusion. Cloud doesnt have Delusion like how many fans said, neither he has an overvalued idea, even with the evidence of Mako eyes supporting his reasoning + he's a great fighter. I will have to say that perhaps it is his brain defence mechanism that tricks his mind to believe he is a Soldier.

If only Sephiroth stop disturbing Cloud's life, it will be a lot faster to fix Cloud. Tifa alone will be the main strength to get Cloud back to normal. Ah, but this is the beauty of the game. Life wont be exciting without the presence of a beautiful villain and a love triangle (Tifa-Cloud-Sephiroth). Lol Technically I see them trying to fight for Cloud's mental health. Tifa wants to help Cloud with his mental status while Sephiroth is trying to destroy it. Lolololol

My crack theory : Sephiroth says he's going to take Cloud's most precious thing, and he ends up choosing to kill Aerith, but ofc there's another reason why Aerith got killed. But if Sephiroth kills Tifa first, I think he can take over Cloud's mind faster, because then, no one will be holding Cloud back. Honestly no one can ever will, not even Aerith. So does that mean Sephiroth doesnt know about Cloud's deepest secret or is Cloud just good at hiding his weakness?

I WILL UPDATE THE NEXT POST LATER because I've reached tumblr limit images agaiiin. The next part will be focusing about his personality - Personality Disorder

If there is any part that I've mistaken, pls correct me. I'm sorry for my english. English is not my native language, so there are plenty of grammar errors.

#final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 remake #final fantasy gif #ff7r #mygif #ff7r spoilers #cloud ff7 #cloud strife gif #sephiroth gif #final fantasy sephiroth #character analysis #psychology #psychiatric disorders #cloud strife #aerith gainsborough

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xxpadfootxx · 4 years

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Request: IzuOcha; Ochako running on a treadmill while connected to a heart monitor as part of a stress test, Ochako's heart beating faster and faster and harder and harder, causing Izuku to be concerned about her health

🐾 Past the Breaking Point 🐾

A/N: Thank you so much for your patience, sorry this took so long to finish, I’ve had a really rough week this week and haven’t had a lot of time to work on this. Either way, it’s finally done! I hope you enjoy! Thanks again for your patience and for requesting!

~~~

Ochako fought back a yawn as she followed her classmates into the gym on the U.A. campus, her eyes stinging with exhaustion and her muscles screaming for her to rest. She wanted to cave, wanted to shuffle back to her dorm room and slide back under the warm, inviting covers of her bed, but she shook the thought from her head, reminding herself to focus.

For the past several weeks after returning from summer break to enter their second year at U.A., Ochako had been pushing herself harder and harder, forcing herself to keep driving herself forward. She knew part of it was becoming unhealthy in its intensity, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop, determined to keep going.

It started when she began dating Izuku over the summer. She had been hanging out with him one day, enjoying a picnic in a flower-filled meadow when he confessed, Ochako immediately attacking him with a hug and light butterfly kisses all over his face. She loved him, had loved him for so long, that she was naturally ecstatic when he finally admitted his shared feelings for her. The pair had been inseparable, spending almost everyday together; swimming at the pool, taking strolls in the park, and watching movies until sunrise. They had even trained a little together, not wanting to lose the progress they had gained at the prestigious hero school while on break. It was then that Ochako really came to realize her obsession with matching Izuku stride for stride. He was so amazing, already climbing the ranks of the hero world and getting recognized as one of the most anticipated new hero arrivals for after he graduates, she did not want to get left behind. He had sparked something in her, something that drove her to work herself to the bone, determined to be the best of the best, rivalling even Izuku’s own enthusiasm for becoming the best hero he could possibly be.

A small nudge dragged her away from her thoughts, her tired eyes meeting the concerned gaze of the boy she loved so much. He was subtle in the hand he placed on her shoulder, his head tilted slightly to ask what was wrong. He wanted to ask her out loud, wanted to examine her body for an injury he had missed or comfort her on an issue she had not yet told him about, but he wanted to keep their interactions discreet. Their relationship was in no way secret, but unfortunately, the adorable pair always seemed to attract absurd amounts of attention from their classmates, especially the girls, whenever they publicly displayed affection to one another.

Ochako smiled reassuringly at him, raising her hand up to cover his and squeeze it comfortingly. She knew he was worried about her, but he had more important things to think about than her being a little tired, having stayed up training in her room into the early hours of the morning. Izuku noticed that her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes but he didn’t press any further as the class finally reached their destination, the students grumbling to themselves as they shuffled into the exercise rooms, not super excited at the prospect of training so early in the morning.

Izuku cast one more concerned glance at Ochako before turning his attention to Aizawa, who was passing around heart rate monitors while explaining the assignment for that day’s exercise routine. Izuku took the monitor from Aizawa with a quiet “thanks” and moved to his own treadmill, clipping on the device before plugging his desired speed into the machine.

Ochako nodded at Aizawa after getting her own heart rate monitor and made her way to the treadmill beside Izuku, utilizing the limited spare time in their hectic schedules to spend time with her boyfriend, even if they were just exercising for a class. She shot him another smile, more genuine this time, when he glanced over at her, sending his own grin back at her. Ochako followed suit, plugging her own speed into the keypad and rolling her shoulders as she forced her sore body to prepare for another workout.

Things were going well at first, her muscles numbing a little as they got used to the pain of more running, and the exercise chasing the sleep from her system, making her feel more awake. She was breathing a little heavier than normal, but other than that she was fine, putting her earbuds in to distract herself from her tense muscles and aching lungs. It wasn’t until she looked around the room in a quick glance that things started to go downhill. She had only meant to spare Izuku a glance, secretly loving the sight of him shirtless during a workout, enjoying watching the sweat glisten on his skin as he pushed his body to the limits, his eyes bright as he worked. But then she had seen the little red number on his treadmill indicating his speed, her eyes widening a little. She glanced up at the large screen at the front of the room displaying their heart rates, her back straightening when she saw how much harder Izuku was working then she was. Glancing around the room and then back up at the screen, Ochako noticed that almost everyone else from her class was working at a similar level to Izuku, even Mineta getting the momentary strength to move faster than her, albeit complaining and panting like a dog the entire time.

Ochako gritted her teeth in annoyance at herself. She was working less than anyone in the class, her heart rate skyrocketing despite the slow speed in which she was moving. Her eyes hardened as she glared at the little red number on her treadmill, a low growl of disgust and disappointment even managing to bubble its way out of her throat. Without stopping to think about the consequences, Ochako raised her hand up to the keypad and pressed on the plus button, ignoring the sudden flare of pain in her muscles as she forced herself to go faster.

Sweat slicked her skin uncomfortably and her lungs felt like they were being ripped apart by the air inside them but she knew she had to keep going. She needed to work harder, faster, be stronger, and match Izuku in every way she could. She refused to fall behind, not when she wanted to be able to stand by him no matter what. She wanted to be there to protect him and support him as they rose through the ranks together, and she knew she couldn’t do that if she wasn’t working harder.

A soft call of her name made her look up, a pair of green eyes, bright with worry, watching her. His gaze flickered to the steadily increasing number on her treadmill to the screen above them, back to her flushed face. Something was wrong but he didn’t know what it was. Was she sick? She looked like she was, her face an angry red, her normally neat ponytail frazzled and uncombed, her body drenched in sweat, soaking her tanktop to make her light pink sports bra peek through the fabric.

Ochako forced a smile to her lips in response to his concerned call, shaking her head at his silent question. She was fine, she could handle a little workout, this should be nothing for her. She grit her teeth as anger flooded her system. Anger at her body for making this so difficult. This should be a piece of cake for her, so why was she struggling so much? Her breathing got even more shallow, making her feel light headed. Shaking her head again in an attempt to clear the feeling, Ochako lifted her now shaking fingers to the keypad to continue to amp up the speed.

At this point, she was moving faster than even Izuku, her heart pounding in her chest so hard it hurt. She didn’t even have to look up at the screen to know she was finally where she wanted to be, her aching heart and raw lungs telling her themselves. She felt a little bit of pride displace the nauseous feeling for a moment, finally feeling less pathetic as she proved to herself that her body could indeed handle this simple workout. Ochako was so focused on forcing herself to the brink that she failed to notice Izuku watching her, his eyes wide with worry as he appraised her.

He did not like how she looked right now. Izuku thought she looked as if she were about to collapse at any minute, her heart rate spiking to the point of making her profile on the screen above them flash red, a warning sign. Izuku glanced back at his girlfriend, realizing the moment he looked at her that she had no clue she was endangering herself so much, her gaze not even glancing up at the screen, fixed on the handlebars in front of her, as if it were a lifeline keeping her conscious.

“Ochako, you should probably-”

“It’s okay, Izuku, I can handle it,” Ochako cut him off, almost as if the rational side of her brain was still fighting for her to make the right decision, her irrational side convincing her to ignore everything and focus on working herself to the bone.

Izuku had no idea why she was so determined to maintain this specific speed, but it was making alarm flash through his system. She was obviously sick, or had not slept well the night before, he knew she was strong, but there was no way her body could handle that kind of strain right now.

Just as he was about to say something again, his mind set on convincing her to either slow down or stop entirely and make a quick trip to Recovery Girl’s office, he saw her whole body sway and freeze. He watched in horror, her body moving almost as if in slow motion, as her eyes rolled back into her head, her form falling towards the ground.

“OCHAKO!”

Izuku did not hesitate to leap from his own treadmill, not even bothering to cut the power, and catch her before she hit the ground. His loud cry of her name made everyone turn around, their eyes widening in shock when they saw Izuku cradling her to his chest, Ochako completely unconscious.

“Come on, baby, Ochako, wake up, please! Are you okay? Please, answer me, what happened!?”

Aizawa was on his knees in front of his student in the blink of an eye, his eyes narrowed as he examined her. Izuku watched with wide eyes, his arms tightening around her subconsciously as he waited for Aizawa to speak.

“Take her to the infirmary,” Aizawa said after a moment, standing back up and instructing everyone else to continue working as Izuku bolted out the door and headed straight for the sweet old lady’s office.

When Izuku had finally made it to the infirmary, panting with exertion and sweating buckets, Recovery Girl had him lay his girlfriend in one of the empty beds to be examined before shoving him back out, claiming she’d call him in when she was finished.

Izuku couldn’t sit still. There was a bench to his left but every time he tried to sit down, his nerves made him jump right back up again, a hand running through his hair as he paced in front of the door. He just wished he knew what happened. Everything had been fine up until this morning! And sure, she had looked tired, but they were all tired, they always were when Aizawa made them wake up early for these stress tests.

Izuku didn’t know how much time passed but it felt like years before he was finally allowed into the room with her, Recovery Girl poking her head out to quietly usher him back inside. Izuku immediately made himself at home in the chair by her bedside, his hand grasping hers gently, his thumb running over her knuckles as he turned to look at her. She was still unconscious, but her breathing had finally slowed back to normal and her face had returned mostly back to it’s normal coloring.

“What happened?” Izuku asked when Recovery Girl reentered the room with some crackers and water, placing them on a tray for when she woke up.

“We will have to ask her for the specific details when she gets up, but it looks like she was overworked, to me,” Recovery Girl said.

“Overworked? But class hasn’t been any more difficult or demanding than usual,” Izuku murmured.

“She might be doing training on her own outside of class,” Recovery Girl said, her soft eyes gazing sadly at Ochako’s inert form. “I don’t know why, but it seems as if your friend here has been working herself way past her usual limits, probably getting less sleep and eating inconsistently, which can always make matters worse.”

Izuku nodded and gently squeezed her hand. He had noticed that her laser focus on becoming a hero had definitely increased since they got back from summer break, almost tripling in intensity from their first year, but he had never noticed her working any more than the rest of their class. Although now that he thought about it, her cheeks had been more sunken in than usual, the bags under her eyes, more prominent. Gods, why didn’t he recognize the signs? Maybe he could’ve prevented this.

A light groan pulled him from his musings and had his gaze snapping to her beautiful face, tears building in his light green hues at the sight of her shifting, trying to come back to him.

“Yeah, come on, ‘Chako, open your eyes,” Izuku murmured, brushing his lips across the back of her hand, a comfort for both her and him as she started to wake up more. Another groan filled the room as Ochako slowly blinked, her gorgeous chocolatey brown eyes widening in confusion when she saw she was in the infirmary. Surveying the room carefully, Ochako stops when she catches sight of her boyfriend, dutifully holding her hand with tears in his eyes and a watery smile on his face. She couldn’t help but smile back at the sight of him, the warmth that flooded her heart with his presence, temporarily making her forget her confusion.

“There you are, how are you feeling?” Izuku asked softly, his thumbs tracing light circles on the back of her hand.

“Like shit,” Ochako said, making the green-haired boy chuckle. “Why am I here?”

“You collapsed during training. We were using heart rate monitors on the treadmills and you just kept pushing yourself past your limits. You collapsed when your heart rate got too high and it was too much for your body to handle, so I brought you here.”

“Oh…,”

“Recovery Girl says you’ll be fine,” Izuku said, leaning over to grab the tray of crackers and water to give to her, watching as she wolfed down the food and drank the water as if she had just escaped a desert. “But she also said that she thinks you’ve been overworking yourself. Have you been doing extra training or something when the rest of us aren’t around?”

Ochako blushed when she realized she had been caught. She had known all along that she was probably pushing herself too much, her obsession overruling her normally sharp judgement, so she had tried to keep her extra training a secret, not wanting the lectures and concern that would come with it. She didn’t need to be anyone else’s burden, didn’t want to be in the way, taking their focus away from the more important things in their lives. Clearly, that was not an option anymore, the brown-haired girl unable to find it in herself to lie to Izuku.

“...Yeah…,” Ochako muttered, glancing away from him.

“Why?” Izuku asked, gently turning her head to face him by lightly gripping her chin, his thumb tracing her bottom lip until she opened them to answer him.

“Because I don’t want to fall behind you, Izuku,” Ochako mumurmed, a pretty blush stealing across her face. “You’re so amazing and wonderful and talented, I didn’t want to be left in the dust. I want to stand by your side and protect you, support you, love you. I don’t want to settle for just any hero agency anymore. I don’t want to find the first job and go from there. My goal will always be to get my parents more money to live a happier life, it’s just, now I’ve become more focused on choosing a job I actually want rather than settling for the first job to give me a check.”

Ochako couldn’t help the small giggle that bubbled out of her throat at the sight of her boyfriend’s dumbfounded expression at her remark, her eyes softening when she looked at him. Reaching up, Ochako cupped Izuku’s cheek, her cheeks warming when he nuzzled into her touch and put his own hand over hers.

“I love you, and I want to be by your side. I know it wasn’t a good thing for my body and my health, but if it means getting to fight alongside you, protect you, then it's worth it.”

A few more tears slipped from Izuku’s eyes as he closed them with a deep sigh.

“Gods Ochako, what are you saying? You are the strongest person I know, you don’t need to kill yourself over this to stand by me. In fact, I need to catch up to you, not the other way around. You are so beautiful and loving and one of the best heroes I’ve ever seen in my life, and you’re only a second year! Please, don’t tear yourself apart because of me, I can’t stand to see you hurt like that, I felt so scared when you suddenly keeled over during our workout, it took Aizawa snapping me out of it to bring you here.”

Ochako looked at him with an awed expression on her face, a few tears of her own surfacing to prick at the corners of her eyes. She had no idea how the hell she managed to get a boy as perfect as this one in her life, but she cherished him. Hearing him compliment her like that made her feel like she was floating, even without the use of her quirk.

“Thank you, Izuku,” Ochako sighed, closing her eyes when Izuku leaned down to kiss her lightly on the lips.

“It’s nothing, really. I am your friend and b-boyfriend, it is my job to protect and take care of you. Just maybe don’t try to scare me so much next time, I think my own heart rate spiked so much I must have broken some kind of world record.”

Ochako giggled at him and apologized, her smile widening when he waved away her thanks and apologies, standing from his chair and motioning for her to move over. Ochako’s eyebrow raised but Izuku didn’t reveal anything as she quietly complied. Quickly taking advantage of the extra room, even on the relatively small hospital bed, Izuku slid beneath the covers beside her and wrapped his arm protectively around her waist, pulling her into his chest.

“Rest,” He said, stroking her hair lovingly.

Ochako turned in his hold to face him, her eyes sparkling and her smile wide before it was broken up by a big yawn. Feeling drowsy and finally able to act on it, Ochako succumbed to her fatigue and curled into Izuku, her face burying into his neck as he continued to pet her hair, his chin resting on the top of her head. She couldn’t see the wildly silly grin on Izuku’s face as she fell asleep against him, but she could feel his quick heartbeat thrumming in time to hers, his love for her pulsing through her system with every loud heartbeat against her ear.

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spidercakes · 5 years

Note

SIM Prompt if you will - SIM had kidnapped Peter from the MCU dimension to replace his Peter that was murdered. Peter was taken against his will, but after receiving injections of Extremis, he forgets his old dimension and takes his place at SIM’s side.

Yaaaaas! And, because I’m a hoe for ‘only soft for one person’ Tony is only soft for Peter, kind of (like, he does kidnap the dude and force him into his own version of Peter against his will but he does it out of ‘love’).

Warnings: non-con experimentation with extremis, kind of non con in general? Like Peter is willing, but only after some real extreme circumstances that kind of strip him of his decision making skills. So like mostly non con dub con, I guess.

Peter is panicked and Tony figures he has a right to be. Holding someone with his strength hostage is difficult but he'd long ago figured out how to hold super people in his grasp- he’d had to kill a good number of them too. He could kill Peter too, but he’s hoping this one will work out. It had taken time to find him and this one is the most like his Peter, even his life events are the same. Not, he supposes, that he’ll remember that soon enough. But he does need to gain his trust first and that’ll be easier if he looks like his Tony. They’re already virtually identical, but the eyes are off. His Tony’s are a rich brown and his are a bright blue, almost unnatural looking but that’s because of the extremis.

Still, he needs to get Peter to trust him long enough for him to give him a dose of extremis, one of several he’ll need to properly rewrite over Peter’s DNA altered as it is. God damn spider, he’d had to find at least one hundred of the fucking things to figure out how it rewrote the victim’s DNA to begin with so he could properly modify extremis to code over it. Peter’s formula won’t allow for shape shifting the way his does and while he’s never had a use for it before, he’s already the perfect version of himself, he finds it useful now as he forcibly turns his eyes a dark brown. It looks off to him in the mirror, strange and unpleasant to look at, but it’s this or run the risk of Peter flailing around and he has no time for that. This has taken long enough, he wants his Peter back.

When he’s satisfied that he looks enough like Peter’s Tony, including a little grey in his normally dark brown hair, he makes his way out to Peter. He looks terrified, eyes wide and red rimmed as he looks around, locating Tony fast. Easy to do with super hearing. For a moment he stiffens, sure that he’s... well himself Tony is sure, but he relaxes when he notices the eyes. Excellent, then.

“Oh my god, Tony! Please get me out of here there’s another you and he’s insane and-”

“Shh,” Tony tells him as he steps up onto the platform that Peter is currently held on. He’s on his knees, arms drawn back behind him just a little too far to be comfortable. He’s found its the easiest way to hold people with Peter’s abilities. He supposes he can thank one Miles Morales for that knowledge. “I’m going to make you better, but you need to relax,” he tells Peter.

Peter frowns, “wha- what does that mean?” he asks, confused.

He brushes his fingers along Peter’s jawline, catching him off guard but it does result in him relaxing. Excellent, so he does have feelings for his Tony. Good, that’ll make this easier. Most of his memory will be wiped, but he’s hoping being here for the process will keep some of the knowledge of who he is around. It’ll make things easier later, when Peter takes his place by his side where he should be.

“I need you to relax, baby,” Tony murmurs, “this is gunna sting a little.” Peter frowns again but the needle is already in his neck and gone before he can think to shake his head any. Peter gasps, eyes going wide as the formula takes hold and Tony sinks down to his knees in front of him, letting his eyes fade back to their natural blue. “Shh, baby let it do its work. You’ll perfect after, just perfect,” he murmurs, petting Peter’s face softly. Peter whimpers and that hurts to hear but its a necessary evil.

The next round of extremis goes slightly better. Peter is disoriented and confused, but Tony tells him that he’s making him better, perfect, and he relaxes some. When he injects Peter the second time he waits, stressed, not too far away because a good number of his test subjects died at this point. Miles Morales had died, Jessica Drew, another version of Peter that had been just to the left of who his Peter was and he’s happy that he found this superior version of Peter now. The only thing off is his hair color, which is a little darker than his Peter’s.

But after several modifications to the extremis formula Gwen Stacy lived so he waits to see whether its successful on Peter too. After this it’ll need one more dose to fully rewrite his DNA and rid him of his pesky memories of his past life.

He waits for what feels like hours until Peter pulls through successfully and he lets himself relax. Peter is breathing heavily as he kneels beside him, petting his hair away from his face as he releases him from his restraints. Peter falls into his arms immediately, curling them around him and he lets out a sigh that damn near resembles a sob. Oh, he’s missed this. “Shh, baby I’m here,” he tells Peter softly. “I’ve got you, you’re safe,” he says as he pets Peter’s hair. “Lets get you to a bed, hmm?”

He waits by Peter’s bed waiting for him to wake up form his third round of extremis, the proper amount to mostly wipe the brain of memory. Plenty remains, but anything about his past life should be gone by now and it shouldn’t come back. Gwen Stacy has yet to regain her memories of her past self and now that Peter is back he won’t need to keep her around as a lab rat anymore. His work is done and so is hers.

It takes time but eventually Peter wakes up and Tony raises an eyebrow. Peter smiles a little, completely unthreatened despite the fact that he’s not disguising himself as his old Tony. Good. “What?” he asks, propping himself up onto his elbow.

Tony smiles at him too, “nothing, its just that your eyes are beautiful,” he says. They’re a brighter topaz shade than they were before, too bright to be completely natural so it must be a side effect of the extremis. He doesn’t mind the difference.

Peter smiles fondly and he wonders what he remembers to be looking at him like that. “You’re too nice,” he says and Tony resists the urge to laugh. Its been a long time since anyone used that word to describe him. Might have been his Peter, before his untimely death, actually.

“Mhm. What do you remember, baby?” he asks, reaching out and settling a hand over Peter’s.

He’s surprised, but not disappointed, when Peter lays his free hand over his. “I um... remember that... I don’t know, I must have gotten kidnapped I guess but you were there and you got me out. I must have been sick or something because I felt really feverish and you told me you were gunna make me better and I guess you did it because I feel fine now,” he says.

So he has some memories of his past but... well, if he were to guess they blended with whatever feelings he previously had for his Tony and transferred to him. That’s... not an anticipated side effect but he’s not going to complain about it either. “That’s good, baby. Anything else?” he asks, hoping to tease out any problems before they become problems.

Peter thinks, frowning just a little as his eyebrows draw together. “...No. That’s really weird because- oh my god, I don’t... don’t remember us, I’m so sorry-” he starts but Tony shuts him up with a kiss.

“Shh, its okay. I don’t need you to remember how you feel to know, okay? We can work on that later. So that’s it then, you just remember a little of what happened?” he asks, purposefully evading reinforcing what actually happened. No need to give him more to go on, if he’s lucky the memory will mostly fade over time anyway. If he’s extra lucky he’ll forget it entirely.

Peter relaxes some before he perks up, “do we have cookies?” he asks and Tony can’t help his smile. His Peter had liked cookies entirely way too much too.

“Of course baby. And while you probably eat the whole box I’ll reacquaint you with the house,” he says. And all his stuff- well, the other version of him’s stuff. This Peter is the closest he’s found to his and he’s going to make sure he’ll be exactly what he wants right down to what he wears.

Unaware of his plans Peter looks excited, “awesome!”

Peter is curled into his side sleeping in one of his shirts exactly the way his Peter used to. Its relieving to see after so long and this one is so perfect, just like his old Peter. He didn’t even question his wardrobe, he just slipped right into the previous Peter’s outfits without issue despite the fact that he knows this Peter never dressed the way his did. He’s happy to see Peter back and he thinks the ache in his heart will lessen as Peter slowly learns his role. It helps that he’s fully reliant on him to explain what he did and how he did it and he’s so sweet, so trusting. He takes his word at face value and does whatever he says, no questions.

God, he loves Peter. He’s missed him so much.

“Boss,” Ultron says over the speakers.

Tony makes an irritated noise, “what?” he asks, annoyed to be interrupted with his time with Peter.

“It looks like the version of you from the dimension has breached into this one,” he says and Tony lets out another irritated noise.

“Would you shut up!” he hisses at the AI. “Where is he?” he adds.

Peter stirs and shit, he better not have heard any of that.

“Outter limits of the city,” Ultron tells him.

“What’s going on?” Peter asks, rubbing at his eyes.

Tony panics for a moment. “Nothing baby, just a small snag outside the city I have to deal with. Go back to sleep, I’ll be back in an hour or so,” he murmurs, kissing Peter softly.

He melts into it, so soft and compliant. “Will you be okay?” he asks, eyes a little wide.

“Of course I will be baby, its nothing much,” he says, brushing a curl out of Peter’s face.

He lets out a soft huff, “then why do you have to go deal with it? Let someone else do it and stay here with me,” he murmurs, arms around Tony’s neck.

He sighs, giving Peter another kiss. “I’m the one who’s presiding over the city, its my job to deal with problems. I won’t take long, I promise,” he murmurs into Peter’s mouth.

Peter smiles, “great power comes with great responsibility. My uncle used to say that,” he says.

Curious, in this dimension his aunt and uncle died when he was a child. He happens to know that his parents died in the dimension Peter is from, though its strange that he remembers that. Or parts of it. Maybe he should keep Gwen around a little longer, prod her for more details of her past to see what bits and pieces she remembers. Strong emotional moments seem to be the connecting line so far, but he’s not looking to have to redo his extremis formula and risk Peter. But he’ll worry about that later.

“So it does. I’ll be back soon, baby,” he tells Peter, giving him one final kiss before he’s off.

He’s not hard to find in that ostentatious suit but Tony has to admit he’s impressed with the amount of anger on his face. “If you hurt him-” he starts and Tony rolls his eyes.

“He’s fine, perfect even. Go home,” he says, waving him off. He knows he won’t be nearly that easy to deal with but he can hope.

The other Tony snorts, “yeah, not a fucking chance,” he says as a line of iron man suits appear around them both. Theoretically they’re surrounded but he’s got a few tricks up his sleeve too.

“That’s cute,” he says, already half connected to the bots and that’s... strange. They seem to be connected to the other Tony’s mind too, but not via extremis. Hmm. Guess it’ll be a battle of wills then, and he’s not prepared to lose.

#tony stark x peter parker #starker #alternate universe #fanfiction #superior iron man

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wigwurq · 4 years

Text

WIG REVIEW: THE QUEEN’S GAMBIT

Yes it’s true - the only things I’ve been watching lately are prestige TV shows starring women with bad red wigs. I’ll get back to movies someday!! In the meantime, I finally watched all of this miniseries that has Netflix and the world aflame with love - and I am aflame too....WITH HATRED OF ALL OF THESE WIGS!!! I have so much to discuss with this show, y’all. A friend of mine (who hasn’t watched this show yet) probably said it best when he told me he thought the wigs in this show were supposed to be wigs WITHIN the narrative of the show (and therefore allowed to be bad): “wait I thought this was about a chess spy - that’s supposed to be her real hair? NO” INDEED!!! Let’s take it episode by episode (SPOILERS ABOUND) and DISCUSS.

Episode 1 - Openings

We begin in Paris, 1967. Beth Harmon, chess champion (?) awakens in a bath of ice (?) in the dark of her hotel room, clearly hung over or maybe still drunk. Her red ‘60s flip wig looks like HELL as does she, so...ok I guess this bad wig wurqs...for now. She sits herself down to play CHESS!! This whole show is about chess, obviously, and everyone is just mad about chess now! I am mad, too, because the show does not make chess seem interesting or sexy and I still hate it.

Anyway, we rewind about 10 (?) years to a young Beth Harmon, who is suddenly orphaned after her mom definitely commits suicide via car accident. Her mom has super short bangs and cries a lot. We see some even further flashbacks to an even younger Beth IN THE MOST OUTRAGEOUS BABY WIG (MORE ON THAT LATER). We learn that her mom is very unhinged, but also probably brilliant, as Beth herself will become later. LET’S HOPE SHE NEVER GETS HER DRIVER’S LICENCE (note: she never does?)

Apparently the mid to late ‘50s were all about very VERY short bangs, and on this non-wigged little girl I guess that is fine.

BUT THEN! She is brought to an orphanage where they burn her old clothes (YES REALLY!) and cut her hair into a bob (the kid’s actual hair so again - ok!) and also give her and all the other girls constant drugs! The 1950s were really wild, amiright? If I have learned anything from movies set at orphanages in the 50s, drug abuse was the main issue (the only movie I’m referring to is obviously The Cider House Rules and the only thing I remember about that movie is that Michael Caine had an ether addiction). Anyway, the sedative drugs make her immediately put her hand on a hot radiator (safety first, orphanage!)

She also makes friends with an older girl named Jolene (I LOVE THE NAME) who teachers her to save the sedative drugs for nighttime when they can help her sleep. Great advice, Jolene! Also: there is absolutely no way that African American Jolene would be in an integrated orphanage in mid-50s KENTUCKY but this is just the beginning of issues I have with this series......

Moving on! In avoiding the orphanage’s weird insistence on Jesusy choir practice, she discovers the basement realm of janitor Bill Camp, who never actually does any janitorial work (that I could see?) but definitely plays a lot of chess. And thus, her chess obsession begins! This is also helped by those sedatives she takes every night which give her really absurd chess hallucinations on the ceiling. This orphanage has it all!

Essentially, this miniseries is Valley of the Dolls if those characters got addicted to both pills and chess at the age of 9. Beth gets very VERY good at chess and some rando chess guy from the local high school comes and gives Beth a doll (BETH HATES THE DOLL BUT LOVES DOLLS DO YOU SEE WHAT I DID THERE). And she goes to the high school and plays a bunch of terrible high school boys at chess simultaneously and beats them all. Also: the orphanage suddenly gets in trouble for giving sedatives to small children for years and Beth is PISSED. She goes through withdrawal and years for the big ol’ jar o’ pills!!!

AND THEN! During a kind of Jesusy film presentation, Beth sneaks away to the orphanage pharmacy and just goes hog wild on the pills! TRULY: Valley of the Dolls has nothing on this sequence.

Obviously, Beth is caught pill-handed and she also spills all the pills, breaks a giant glass jar, and then falls onto both of them. SHE IS 9. I THINK I LOVE THIS SHOW.

Episode 2: Exchanges

So after Beth’s completely insane pill odyssey, she is punished by being forbidden to play chess! Fast forward an indeterminate number of years, and we meet a slightly older Beth (now played by the bewigged Anya Taylor-Joy). AND THIS WIG, Y’ALL. WOOF. Completely dried out and bent, it really makes you appreciate the fact that they just cut the younger Beth’s hair. I realize that Anya is going to go through many 50s and 60s hairstyles to come but I really wish they had just done the same and used her real hair because we are about to take a bad wig odyssey that will last throughout this series. Also! I love that Jolene is played by the same actress! How old is too old to be in an orphanage?

Speaking of age! Beth is apparently now 15 but when a super weird couple expresses interest in adopting her, the orphanage director lady lies and says Beth is 13 and everyone just goes with it....FOR THE REST OF THE SERIES. Seriously, this age difference is never ever visited again or challenged. Beth is basically 15-17 for at least 5 years and no one gives a shit. OK? Anyway, Beth is adopted by Marielle friggin Heller (aka director of Can You Ever Forgive Me? and A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood) who has a very Mamie Eisenhower wig which is just fine compared to the bent and dry-ass mess on Anya’s head.

It is later revealed that Marielle adopted Beth because her husband is mainly away on business and she needs an older gal pal around to fetch her....sedatives from the magazine store! I wonder if Beth will totally get addicted to them again! I’m no chess player but you can absolutely predict plot devices in this series about two pawns away (is that a chess term? I still don’t know or care!)

So yes: as predicted Beth absolutely gets addicted to sedatives again (also the specific sedatives she gets addicted to are the exact same ones she was addicted to at the orphanage - WHAT A COINCIDENCE! - and also they are made up sedatives for the purposes of this show only in case we all want to get the same magical chess sedatives and see chess on the ceiling too). ALSO! Beth is still mainly addicted to chess despite the fact that she was permitted from playing it for the last 5-7 years (depending on what version of her age you’re going on?) but still is good at it? Most upsetting: she rips apart her lovely bed canopy in order to see her ceiling chess hallucinations! THE NERVE OF THIS KID!

Also nervy: bitch totally stole chess magazines from the pharmacy when she was also stealing sedatives from her adoptive mom! Kleptomania is Beth’s #3 addiction after chess and pills also comes into play when it is revealed that her new adoptive mom is kinda poor since her husband is away all the time and doesn’t give her enough money so Beth can’t enter those chess tournaments she read about in the magazines she stole. SO she writes to janitor Bill Camp and asks for $5 to enter the chess thing and if she wins she’ll send him $10. THIS IS A VERY IMPORTANT PLOT POINT WHICH WILL COME INTO PLAY LATER. So Beth goes to the chess tournament where she meets some not handsome twin dudes and a very handsome other dude named Townes.

Basically all the chess dudes at this tourney suck in the same way? To be fair: if I saw Beth walking up in her ugly orphanage clothes and orphanage cut wig, I would think she sucked at chess too? Oh also - all the girls at her new high school also think her style sucks. I WONDER IF IN COMING EPISODES SHE WILL GAIN MORE STYLE AND CHESS FAME THAN ALL THESE GARBAGE PEOPLE. Spoiler: she does and also beats this dude named Harry and becomes the Kentucky chess champion. Also! Beth’s adoptive dad totally abandons her and Marielle Heller! I still hate chess but will continue to watch this show because of its haunting wigs and lowgrade feminist vibe.

Episode 3: Doubled Pawns

This episode begins with a flashback to Beth’s shitty birth mother and her shitty banged wig and remember that time I said I was going to talk about the wig on the littlest girl who plays her? WELL HERE WE ARE. Baby Beth has the absolute WORST WIG ON THIS SHOW and given how terrible all the wigs are, that is saying a lot. This wig looks like it was ripped off an American Girl doll which had been mistreated for years and thrown of a jungle gym or something. IT IS THE ABSOLUTE WORST (as is her mom, who makes this poor kid believe she had drowned!!!)

ANYWAY. We get a new wig in this episode!!! Beth manages to grow out her orphanage bangs and allow her hair to have a 50s wave bob. Do not be fooled by the higher quality of this cut, however - the quality of the WIG continues to very much suck! WHAT IS THIS HAIR PART! No hair underneath! And everything is still a dried out, bent mess! ALSO HER ROOTS ARE A NIGHTMARE. This is also the episode wherein Marielle Heller basically becomes Mama Rose to Beth and really gets into Beth supporting both of them via chess winnings and becomes her chess manager (ACTUAL JOB TITLE). Also Beth gets nicer clothing. Hilariously, Marielle tells Beth’s high school that Beth is just constantly sick so she can skip school to go to chess tournaments even though Beth is straight up on the cover of Life magazine?! I wonder if this will at all come to the attention of the high school - IT DOESN’T! PLOT HOLES BE DAMNED THIS SHOW IS ABOUT CHESS! She does go to high school long enough for the snobby girls who once made fun of her to invite her to the dumbest party ever where they just sit around and ask Beth dumb questions about Chess fame and then all have a sing-along to a song Beth doesn’t know because she has no idea what pop culture is: ONLY CHESS CULTURE. I watched this show with my mom and asked if ‘60s parties were like this and she laughed her head off and said NO. ALSO! Beth’s kleptomania comes into play at this party where she steals a bottle of gin and leaves without saying goodbye to anyone. WHAT A BITCH.

Speaking of bitches, Beth meets a new chess diva in the form of Love Actually’s resident child drum prodigy! He has a character name but whatever: Love Actually is his name and he has longish shaggy (non wigged) hair and dresses like Crocodile Dundee and is loved and feared in the chess community for being such a non-nerd (?) chess player. I asked my mom if anyone dressed like this in the ‘60s and she said “NO! But I guess I didn’t know everyone” WHICH IS A GREAT ANSWER BECAUSE MY MOM DIDN’T RUN IN WEIRD CHESS CIRCLES IN THE ‘60s. We are lead to believe the ‘60s chess community of weirdos consists of the same 5 rotating dudes who are all at the same chess tournaments always and also possible love interests for Beth and she’s better at chess than all of them.

The only weirdo chess dude that Beth cares about is Townes, who you may recall from the last episode in which he was the only attractive chess dude at that first chess tournament Beth went to with borrowed Bill Camp money. Anyway, she runs into him at some chess tournament (LIKE I REMEMBER WHICH ONE PLEASE) in Las Vegas where he is now a chess reporter (ACTUAL 1960s JOB, Y’ALL). He invites Beth back to his hotel boudoir where he takes some non-boudoir pictures of her playing chess and Beth is all aflutter with chess love but SUCK IT BETH, TOWNES IS GAY!!! I have to say that the only believable part of this show is that the only attractive chess dude would be homosexual. It still does not forgive any of the other plot nonsense.

SO! It’s still the big Vegas chess tournament which is super duper important-chess wise (though this show also makes it seem like every chess game IS THE MOST IMPORTANT so who is to say?) Anyway, Beth and her 50s wave wig (even though it is the 60s?) play Love Actually and....they both win? I didn’t know this was a chess pastability but ok? Beth is pissed that she didn’t beat Love Actually, I hope I never have to see him again (SPOILER HE’S IN MANY MORE EPISODES AND HAD I KNOWN THAT MAYBE I WOULD HAVE STOPPED WATCHING NOW BUT I DIDN’T!)

Episode 4: Middle Game

We are still stuck with this weird ‘50s bob in this episode. IT STILL LOOKS BAD. New developments are: Beth is taking night classes at the local college (even though she is technically still in high school?) in order to learn Russian to better understand people who are more obsessed with chess than she is: Russians. Anyway, he ends up going to the most wild and stereotypical hippie party with a college dude after class and yep - loses her virginity to him. Ok? At least it wasn’t to a chess weirdo? She also stays behind and parties and drinks alone in the hippie apartment because of all her substance addiction and kleptomania. Also! She graduates from high school despite being 2 years too old for high school (a plot point never explained) and missing all that high school for chess tourneys (another plot point never explained!) OH WELL: CHESS!

Beth and Marielle go to Mexico City for some chess tournament (AGAIN I COULDN’T TELL YOU WHICH ONE). Marielle is excited because she is pen pals (OMG THE 60s Y’ALL) with some Mexican weirdo who I definitely feared would steal all the chess winnings but then ultimately just sucks in the same way the adoptive dad did. Beth also runs into those chess twin weirdos because the chess community is comprised of only 5 dudes as I said. Their hair looks bad but not as bad as her wig.

Beth doesn’t see much of Mexico City - nor do we unless you count a truly outrageous sequence in which Beth and Marielle go out on their hotel balcony and look into a green screen rendering of Mexico City that would have felt at home in CGI ghostmare, Bohemian Rhapsody. Anyway, Beth and her olde timey 1950s wig which is spending way too much time in the 60s even though she’s supposed to be stylish now, take a lot of chess baths while Marielle drinks a lot because that Mexican pen pal/boyfriend sucks so bad.

So Beth wins enough chess to play Borgov, who we are led to believe is the Russian white whale/Bond villain of the chess community and LOSES! She is pretty pissed about it but not as pissed as...

....coming back to the hotel room to discover Marielle Heller and her luscious Mamie Eisenhower wig DEAD. TWICE AN ORPHAN, Y’ALL. Mexican coroners tell Beth that her mom died of hepatitis (!!!) and Beth somehow implicates low quality tequila in this hepatitis death. I LEGITIMATELY GOOGLED ‘DOES TEQUILA GIVE YOU HEPATITIS’ IMMEDIATELY. I DON’T THINK IT DOES?!?!?! THIS SHOW IS ABSOLUTELY RIDICULOUS AND YES I WILL CONTINUE WATCHING IT DESPITE THE TERRIBLE WIGS AND MY HATRED OF CHESS.

Episode 5: Fork

Beth returns to Kentucky IN THE RAIN BECAUSE TV AND MOVIE DEATHS ARE ALWAYS ACCOMPANIED BY RAIN. She is about to be super lonely in the house she know owns (according to a super sketchy international phone call with her adoptive father which will definitely not hold up in court) and then...she gets a call from Harry! WHO THE EFF IS HARRY! Again, luckily, there are only 5 chess guys who need to remember and he is one of them (he is the one she beat for the Kentucky chess whatever in episode 2). She invites him over because she’s lonely!

Harry is definitely the saddest of the weirdo chess dudes because apparently he’s been harboring a secret love of Beth (who at the time of their first meeting was like 13-15 depending on what timeline you’re going on and he was...20? OK GROSS BUT OK). BITCH EVEN GOT HIS WEIRD TEETH FIXED SO HE COULD BE LOVED BY BETH AND HER BENT ASS WIG AND SERIOUSLY NO THANK YOU HARRY. Regardless, Beth lets Harry have sex with her a few times and live rent-free in her house and ultimately Harry gets enough self confidence to leave this effed up living situation since he will never be one of Beth’s obsessions (which are still: chess, pills/alcohol, stealing shit).

So Beth goes to Ohio for some other chess tournament and reunites with UGH Love Actually. At this point in the show, Beth starts wearing long scarves as headbands and her wig has never looked better because most of it is covered by the scarf. THANK GOD. So Love Actually totally chess hustles Beth for a lot of coin playing speed chess (DEAR GOD WHY HAVE I BEEN FORCED TO LEARN WHAT SPEED CHESS IS) but in the end, she still beats him for the chess title. EFF YOU, Love Actually! May I never see you again! OH SHIT HE JUST INVITED HER TO NEW YORK TO TRAIN HER FOR THE PARIS CHESS THING DEAR GOD WHY IS THERE SO MUCH LOVE ACTUALLY IN THIS SHOW OK FINE I’LL STILL WATCH IT.

Episode 6 - Adjournment

Ok so Beth and her ok wig that is mainly covered by a scarf go to Love Actually’s apartment in NYC which IS AN UNDERGROUND BUNKER AND SHE HAS TO SLEEP ON A BLOW UP MATTRESS. Again and for the millionth time: Love Actually is the worst! Especially the worst because he introduces her to all these rando bohemians he knows, including some French bitch who will definitely eff everything up when Beth is already teetering on her pill/alcohol obsession and should probably not meet any other enablers. Somehow, he does get her to quit the pills/alcohol long enough to have sex with him (UGH).

And so we are in Paris, 1967. Where we started the show with Beth’s awful 60s flip! AND WE MEET ANOTHER PLOTHOLE. Only a week before this, Beth was in NYC with hair about 3″ shorter and still wearing scarves in her hair. WHAT IN THE VERY HELL, SHOW! I realize that this show has a very vague sense of time or how old Beth is or whatever but truly: NOPE.

Anyway, it’s the night before the big match against Borgov and Beth is on her very best behavior when who should ring her up but that French bitch Love Actually introduced her to! She is downstairs at the hotel bar and just come down and have one drink and don’t ruin your entire chess career, mmmkay? THIS ENABLING BITCH!!!! NEVER TRUST ANYONE WITH THIS CRYING GAME WIG UNLESS YOU WANT YOUR LIFE TO BE A CRYING GAME. Of course, Beth goes downstairs, drinks every drink in the bar, has sex with some rando French dude and...wakes up in the icebath we see at the beginning of the show and sweatily plays Borgov in her wig that has never looked frizzier, loses, and is shamed from the entire chess community. Also Love Actually wants Beth to come back to NYC but NO THANK YOU TO YOU AND YOUR BUNKER OF ENABLERS.

Back in Kentucky, Beth....is shown learning how to flip her hair. WAIT WHAT SHE ALREADY HAD A FLIP HAIRSTYLE THE ENTIRE TIME IN PARIS WHAT KIND OF WIG GASLIGHTING ARE YOU PLAYING, SHOW?!?!?!??!?!?!!

UGH anyway, with THE EXACT SAME FLIP WIG AS WE’VE SEEN HER IN, Beth tries to be a responsible young person of indeterminate age who owns a house in Kentucky and not drink or take pills or steal shit. EXCEPT remember that time her adoptive dad said she could just have the house if she paid the mortgage? WELL BITCH SHOWS UP AND J’ACCUSES HER OF STEALING THE HOUSE FROM HIM. Which is hilarious because of all the things she stolen in this show, the house wasn’t one of them. In any case, she buys the house! And takes herself out to dinner! And has a drink! AND UH OH.

At this point the show just goes completely off the rails in addictive nonsense. Beth just goes around the house in her terrible flip wig applying makeup and barfing in to chess trophies. It’s every stereotypical drug/alcohol scene from every biopic ever except this chick doesn’t really exist and this show is wearing on my nerves and Beth has to stop making so many terrible live decisions and this wig has BETTER GET BETTER.

And then magically - Jolene shows up in the most fabulous afro wig!! WHAT! OK I WILL WATCH THE BITTER CONCLUSION OF THIS SERIES BECAUSE I LOVE JOLENE.

Episode 7: End Game

Jolene...Jolene....Jolene. Jolene. I love Jolene. I don’t love that this show uses her by making her be the “magical negro” trope who helps Beth get her life back together. Predictable nonsense! So yes, Jolene looks around Beth’s ramshackle drug den and tells her to get her life back together. AND THEN BETH DOES. No AA or rehab required! WHAT! I really appreciate that Jolene also compares her to Susan Hayward (star of Valley of the Dolls!) which is the sick burn/comparison I needed.

The other reason Jolene showed up was to bring Beth to janitor Bill Camp’s funeral. At the funeral, which is very poorly attended, Beth reveals THAT SHE NEVER PAID BILL CAMP THAT $5 HE LENT HER (AND $10 SHE PROMISED HIM) AT THE BEGINNING OF HER CHESS CAREER. WHAT A PIECE OF SHIT. It is at this point that I fully decided that I wanted Beth to fail at everything because she is a garbage person who never gave propers to Bill Camp for changing her life for the better. THIS BITCH!! She even goes back to the orphanage where she discovers Bill Camp’s CHESS SHRINE DEVOTED TO HER! SHE FEELS LIKE SHIT AS WELL SHE SHOULD! I FULLY HATE HER!!!!

Jolene is much more forgiving of Beth than me and also introduces Beth to a new obsession: squash! Ok? It does allow Beth to wear a headband which is great wig-wise (in that it hides all the seamwork). Beth also turns down these Jesusy people who want to fund her chess trip to Russia and so Jolene GIVES HER $3,000 TO GO TO RUSSIA. IF THERE IS ANYTHING I’VE LEARNED IN THE LAST 5 MINUTES OF THIS SHOW IT IS THAT BETH WILL NOT PAY THAT MONEY BACK AND JOLENE PLEASE DO NOT!!!!

Jolene does. Beth goes to Russia which is straight out of every Bond movie and gets her shit together and wins a lot of damn chess.

Though her midweight coat game rivals that of Nicole Kidman in The Undoing, her wig game ALSO RIVALS THAT OF NICOLE KIDMAN IN THE UNDOING IN THAT IT IS ALSO A RED NIGHTMARE WIG. This show spent so much goddamned money on clothes, sets, and CGI greenscreens of Mexico City AND YET NO MONEY FOR WIGS. BOO.

I did enjoy this one chess opponent’s walrus hair but otherwise, Beth’s flip wig has absolutely overstayed its welcome and is a compete and utter bent nightmare. Also! Remember that one hot chess dude? He shows up and helps Beth with Chess!! HUH?

Also every single weirdo in the chess community somehow form a chess calming circle in Love Actually’s bunker apartment and call Beth internationally to help her win against Borgov at chess! WHAT IN THE DAMN HELL? It is sweet I guess, but also makes ABSOLUTELY NO FUCKING SENSE AS BETH WAS A TOTAL ASSHOLE TO ALL THESE PEOPLE AND DOES NOT DESERVE TO BE A PART OF THEIR WEIRD CHESS GANG.

Ultimately, Beth beats Borgov and wears THIS FUCKING HAT. I think we’re supposed to believe that she is now the white queen chess piece (I HATE THAT I NOW KNOW CHESS PIECES).

She is actually dressed in head to toe white and somehow convinces her American handler that she will just walk...to the airport? And despite being invited to the Johnson White House (girl go there!) would rather just wander the streets of Russia without any purse or luggage or way of getting home. THIS BITCH. She finds a new chess community of old men who play chess outside at folding tables and decides to join them WITHOUT GOING HOME TO PAY JOLENE ALL HER MONEY BACK WHICH IS ABSOLUTELY WHAT SHE SHOULD BE THINKING ABOUT AND ALSO MAYBE SETTING UP A BILL CAMP CHESS FOUNDATION BECAUSE YOU NEVER PAID HIM BACK YOU PIECE OF SHIT. No, she is no longer addicted to pills, alcohol, or stealing but is absolutely addicted to chess on a level that is probably lethal. I spent the last moments of the show demanding that the Russian chess hobos murder her and her immaculate white outfit because BETH IS A SELFISH ASSHOLE AND ALL HER WIGS ARE GARBAGE LIKE HER!!!!

VERDICT: DOESN’T WURQ

#wigwurq #queensgambit #anyataylorjoy #garbagepeople #valleyofthedolls #babywigs #pillpoppinorphans #Istillhatechess #loveactually #marielleheller #wiggaslighting

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no-footprints-in-the-snow · 4 years

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The Story of Me - Part II

I know people aren't really here to read the story of my life, and I doubt people will actually read both parts, but let's just say this is for me. Now, I'm finally losing in a healthy manner (I've quit drinking, eating healthy foods, etc) and I've lost 70lbs so far. I still have a long way to go, but I'll get there. My mother's just so happy, I want to kick her in the shins. Like I wouldn't even BE this way if it wasn't for you. For being fat. For making me homeless. -takes a deep breath- What I got kicked out at fifteen, it was for a DIME of weed. Now they support my use of cannabis instead of pharmaceutical pain meds. I called on Christmas (because they'd kicked me out in late November and I was fifteen, cold, and lonely), and they hung up on me. Over a DIME OF WEED.

At fifteen, in the winter, in Canada, I was on my own. I slept in garbage dumpsters, clothing donation bins, etc. I stayed in coffee shops to get warm, panhandled, and did everything in my power to stay safe. I remember one night, not being able to get to a clothing donation bin by dark, so I huddled in an alleyway. There was snow everywhere, and I remember that after awhile, despite the biting cold of the wind, that I felt warm. I was content, and sleepy. I realized I was going to die of hypothermia if I didn't actually get warm. That the warmth and contentment was an illusion. I was going to die if I didn't move. I immediately shook myself, and hustled my ass two miles to a coffee shop where they would let me sit for a few hours if I bought a small coffee.

I was homeless from 15-19 and when I finally convinced my mother to come and help me around the age of 17 for a brief bit (my live-in nanny job - the bosses - a married couple wanted a threesome). I snuck their 'emergency phone' (they never paid me, it was basically slave labour), and begged her to help me. I explained the situation, and she said she was busy, but could pick me up in three days. So, I fought off the advances of this forty year old couple as a minor for the next three days, all while caring for their one year old.

By this point, we hadn't seen each other in nearly two years, and I'd lost so much weight, that she drove right past me. Twice. I just watched. My bosses only fed me one can of condensed soup a day, and I went from being like 176 ('super fat' according to my mother), to 95-100 pounds, and she didn't recognize me. I finally waved and she stopped beside me, and stared.

All she said was,

"You look sick." I remember just staring at her and saying,

"Thanks."

"You need some meat on your bones."

"Hard to find meat on the streets."

"Yeah, well whose fault is that now?"

The rest of the ride back to my parents place was a silent one. I stayed with them for two weeks. That was it, they weren't willing to give me any more time than that. In that time, I was able to actually eat REAL food, and not scavenge through Tim Horton's dumpsters, and I gained fast. When I got to 117, she was like,

"Now you've gone too far. Now, you need to lose weight." This was right before I was out on the streets again. I would lose it quickly again anyway. Living on the streets isn't kind to anyone.

For the last LONG while, I had been stuck in 'survival mode' according to my therapist. When I ate, I really ate, and I ate a lot, because there was a period of my formative years where I didn't know when I would get my next meal. Growing up on the streets will do that to a person.

Let's just say, I grew up fast.

The rest of the story gets dark, and I'd like to forget some of those years, so I'll stop here. Now, I'm happy. I'm far away from them, married, sober, and I haven't seen my family in over 8 months. That makes me very happy. We are still in contact (LOW contact), their numbers are blocked, only I can call them, so it's on my terms now.

And I like that.

I'm happy now, and I'm learning to feed myself properly. Not just my body, but my mind, heart, and soul.

#no-footprints-in-the-snow #nofootprintsinthesnow #nofootprints #no-footprints #no footprints in the snow #no footprints #the story of me #eating disorder #how i got away #raised by narcissists #learning #everyday #to love myself #love yourself #part II

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grailfinders · 4 years

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Fate and Phantasms #76: Mordred

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re making the Knight of Treachery, Mordred! This build gets a little funky, but by the end of it you might just have enough martial prowess to make your dad notice you. Might.

Check out the build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Race and Background

Mo’s a Homunculus, an artificial human that grows and dies quickly. That’s not really a human, but we need a feat some time before level 9, so Variant Human will have to do. This gives him +1 Strength and Charisma, Acrobatics proficiency to make up for low dexterity, and the Tough feat for two extra hit points every time you level up. Your favorite solution to problems is beating them into submission- best make sure you can outlast them.

Despite how you left the order, you were still in it for most of your life, making you a Knight of the Order and giving you Persuasion and History proficiency.

Stats

From highest to lowest: Mordred’s a “Might makes right” kind of guy, so make sure you’re right all the time by making your Strength as high as possible. Your Constitution is also going to be pretty high; getting out of the way of attacks is for weaklings. Your Charisma is also pretty strong; you’d be an inspiring king if someone would give you a chance. Your Wisdom isn’t too great, looking for things is fine, but you’re a bit emotionally stunted. Your Dexterity’s a bit low, nobody ever taught you the value of dodging. Finally, dump Intelligence. You’re not stupid, but you haven’t had much practical experience.

Class Levels

1. Paladin 1: Like most members of the round, you’re a Paladin. At first level, you have proficiency in Wisdom and Charisma saves, as well as Athletics and Intimidation. You have Lay on Hands, a pool of HP equal to 5 times your paladin level you can use to heal yourself (or others, I guess) as an action. The pool refills on long rests. You also have a Divine sense, letting you spend an action to sense celestials, fiends, or undead within 60′ of you. A surprisingly high number of your fathers can be put in that category, so it’s somewhat useful.

Since we’re starting out here, we’ll also talk gear: Heavy armor would be more in-character, but it’ll quickly become a problem. I’d keep it on the heavier side of medium armor. Also, Clarent is a pretty great sword, let’s call is a Great-Sword.

2. Paladin 2: Second level paladins get a Fighting Style, and Great Weapon Fighting will help make Clarent just a little bit greater, rerolling 1s and 2s on damage rolls. You also learn how to cast Spells at this level, using your Charisma to cast and prepare them. If you don’t feel like using spells, you can also make Divine Smites by burning spell slots for extra damage on attacks. It’s not a beam, but it still hurts plenty.

You’ll get more spells in your subclass, but if you’re itching for some now, Thunderous Smite is great for adding a bit of muscle to your swings, dealing extra Thunder damage and forcing a Strength save or the target’s pushed away and knocked prone.

3. Barbarian 1: You’ve got some anger issues, and a few levels of Barbarian should help you work through them. Or make them worse, I’m not a psychologist. Either way, you can Rage twice per long rest for more attack damage, advantage on strength checks and saves, and physical damage type resistance as long as you’re not wearing heavy armor. To help out, you have Unarmored Defense, giving you an AC based on your constitution and dexterity while not wearing any armor. This isn’t good, but it’s better than nothing at all.

4. Barbarian 2: With this level, you can make Reckless Attacks, gaining advantage for a turn in exchange for taking advantage for a round. You also have a Danger Sense, giving you advantage on dexterity saves from things you can see. You might not be that nimble, but you know when to get the hell out of Dodge.

5. Bard 1: I admit Bard’s a bit of an odd choice here, but It was either that or ranger/wizard, and this is the closest fit. Multiclassing into bard nets you Deception proficiency so you can be a treacherous Knight of Treachery. You also get a new set of Spells that also use charisma to cast, and some Bardic Inspiration, d6s you can hand out to other players as a bonus action to help with Attack rolls, Saves, and checks, which are regained on long rests. Don’t worry, we’ll get a more self-focused use for them later.

For your spells, grab Light to help your dumb human eyes see in the dark, Mending to patch up your gear, Animal Friendship to make friends with cats, Cure Wounds for even more healing, and Heroism to inspire your party a little bit. Also grab Disguise Self for a way to hide your identity; we’ll get a more flavorful way to do this later, but this will work for the couple of levels between then and now.

6. Bard 2: At second level you become a Jack of All Trades, adding half your proficiency to non-proficient skills. You also have a Song of Rest, adding a d6 to healing done on short rests.

For your spell, learn how to push yourself with Longstrider for an extra 10′ of movement.

7. Bard 3: Third level bards get to pick a College, and the college of Swords is great for someone who likes to use them. You get a Fighting Style that doesn’t really matter since they don’t apply to you, and Blade Flourishes. When you attack, you can add 10′ to your speed, and upon hitting you can spend an inspiration to gain an extra effect. You roll the inspiration die, and add that to your damage, and then one of three other options occur: a Defensive Flourish adds the roll to your AC until your next turn. a Slashing Flourish deals the extra damage to another creature within 5′ of the first. a Mobile Flourish pushes the target away by 5+your roll feet, and you can react to follow them.

You also learn second level spells this level, and Enhance Ability will push one type of your skill checks to a new level. You also double your carrying capacity if you boost strength, reduce fall damage if you choose dexterity, or gain temporary hp if you boost constitution.

8. Bard 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to grab the War Caster feat, letting you cast spells while holding a weapon and giving advantage on concentration saves. Your dad gave you that sword, you should hold on to it.

Well, “gave” is a bit strong, but that’s more reason to keep it close.

You also get Message to chat with your master, and Heat Metal. I don’t have Mordred in my Chaldea, so the only thing I know him well for is that he built a metal house on an island that got super hot, so I had to involve that in the build somehow.

9. Bard 5: At fifth level, your Inspiration improves to a d8, and you become a Font of Inspiration, regaining inspiration on short rests instead of long ones. For your spell, you get Nondetection, giving you (or someone else) protection from Divination spells. I’m not sure what True Names would work as in D&D, but it’s probably Divination. So slap this on a helmet and you’re good to go.

10. Paladin 3: Now that we have some fancy skills, let’s get a bit angrier. Vengeance paladins have Divine Health for immunity to disease, plus two Channel Divinity options. Abjure Enemy forces 1 creature to make a wisdom save to frighten it. On a failure, it’s frightened and its speed is reduced to 0. On a failure, its speed is halved. In either case, the effect lasts 1 minute, or until it takes damage. The Vow of Enmity uses a bonus action to give your attacks advantage against a single creature for a minute, or until it dies.

You also get two subclass spells; Bane weakens a creature’s attacks and saving throws, and Hunter’s Mark adds to your attack damage and makes it easier to track down creatures if they run.

11. Paladin 4: Use your next ASI to buff your Charisma for more flourishes and better spells.

12. Paladin 5: Fifth level paladins finally get an Extra Attack, adding a second attack to your attack action. You also get second level spells, including subclass spells Hold Person and Misty Step. Both of them are great for when you’re absolutely sick of one creature’s nonsense and want to absolutely destroy them. For other spells, you can Find Steed to get a horse (maybe your father’s), and Magic Weapon to get a cooler sword (definitely your father’s).

13. Barbarian 3: Third level barbarians set down a path, and the Path of the Storm Herald makes your anger a little more elemental. Your Storm Aura forces a dexterity save, dealing 1d6 or half that in Lightning damage to a single creature when you begin a rage or as a bonus action while raging. We went from one attack to sort of three in two levels. Nice.

14. Barbarian 4: Use this ASI to bump up your Strength for more and better stabbing.

15. Paladin 6: The Aura of Protection adds your Charisma Modifier to all allied saves that happen within 10′ of you. That’s a plus 4 bonus to everything, which is also pretty cool.

16. Paladin 7: Seventh level Vengeance Paladins are Relentless Avengers. After making an attack of opportunity, you can move half your movement speed without provoking attacks. If someone’s trying to get past you, you can slap them and keep up; the fight’s not over until you say it is.

17. Paladin 8: Use this last ASI to improve your Charisma for stronger spells and saves, plus more flourishes.

18. Paladin 9: Ninth level paladins have third level spells, like Haste, which doubles your movement speed, adds 2 to your AC, and adds an action to your turn for a minute, and Protection from Energy, which gives a creature resistance to an arcane damage type for up to an hour: acid, cold, fire, lightning, or thunder. One of those is more generally applicable than the other.

If you’re looking for a spell to use outside of your subclass, Elemental Weapon is like Magic Weapon, but the damage it adds is a d4 instead of a flat number, and it deals that damage in an arcane type. Sadly this is concentration, so you can’t have a lightning sword and lightning lightning at the same time, but you’ve got a theme going now.

19. Paladin 10: Tenth level paladins have an Aura of Courage, preventing allies within 10′ of you from being frightened as long as you’re conscious. You can be pretty inspiring when you want to be.

20. Paladin 11: Our capstone level grants you an Improved Divine Smite, adding 1d8 radiant damage to all melee attacks for free, no spell slots required.

Pros:

You’re a pretty good gish, with classic buffs and debuffs like Haste and Hold Person, plus Heat Metal to spice things up. If that wasn’t enough, your Concentration is great. You’ve got a +7 to constitution saves plus advantage, so you can be in the thick of things and not have to worry about dropping spells.

All these different classes makes you very flexible in combat. When you want to be fancy, you’ve got spells and flourishes to back you up. When you want raw damage, go with rages and smites. Have fun with it, mix things up.

Hold person plus smites means you can do a lot of damage in a short time. Drag those other knights off their high horse and show them why you deserve the throne.

Cons:

Mixing a mostly gish build with barbarian levels means you have to make rages and spells play nice, and they don’t. Be careful you don’t end up raging while hasting someone, that won’t be pretty.

This build would work best with heavy armor, but rages and armor don’t work well together either.

Even with all your check and save enhancements, your low intelligence means you’ll probably get tricked and used easily. Word of advice: don’t trust your mom.

Next up: Thunderbolts and lightning, very very frightening!

#Fate Grand Order #fgo #D&D 5e #Mordred #Fate and Phantasms

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petersmparker · 5 years

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Welcome Home pt 2 (Peter Parker x Reader)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: It’s the morning after Peter arrives at your bedroom window and asks if he can stay the night with you.

Warnings: like one curse?? if anyone cares

Word Count: 1473

A/N: this chapter always felt kinda special to me. mostly because I’m super attached to the idea of the reader having a relationship with Peter that’s built on a friendship that’s true to the ones I’ve experienced w the jovial jackassery toward each other?? anyway, please please please let me know what you think!! Message me! send an ask! whatever!!

INTRO PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 EPILOGUE

You wake up before Peter does. Unsurprising, considering the weight of both him and the metal suit encompassing him. It's hard to be too bothered, though, when so comforted by the fact that Peter has managed to sleep at all after spending so long running on fumes. His hair is tickling your nose, he's thrown his leg over yours during the night, cutting off some circulation, and his arm beneath your lower back has it arching a bit uncomfortably, but he's the most at peace that you've seen in two months, and you figure that is a small price to pay for it.

What Peter had said when he'd arrived-- It's my fault that Mr. Stark is dead-- was still very concerning, but you force yourself to keep those worries quelled. You know that once Peter is willing to talk, he'll come to you. For now, you choose to be grateful for last night's progress.

Since you want to let Peter sleep for as long as possible, you find yourself confined to the bed until he wakes. You take the time to message Aunt May and let her know, without too much detail, where Peter is and what he's doing so she doesn't have to worry when she wakes up. It doesn't take long for her to respond with a relieved thank goodness. You spend nearly an hour and a half afterwards awkwardly holding a book in your left hand while you read away the time, running your right up and down Peter's back in between page turns.

He finally wakes when the sun has had a chance to fully rise, shifting as consciousness begins to return to him. During this, the now-warm metal covering his hand slides up your partially exposed side. You shiver and huff out a bit of a startled laugh at the same time that Peter groans softly and says, "I can't feel my arm."

Smiling, you set down your book and lift yourself enough for Peter to slide his left arm out from under you. "My bad," you say, not really feeling or sounding all that guilty as your spine relishes in the feeling of not being bent weird.

"Brat," Peter responds, pushing himself up into a sitting position and running his hands through his messed up curls.

Though you don't express it at that moment, his use of the teasing name sparks hope in you. It's almost as if a night's sleep has put some life back in him.

He stretches his arms up high. You watch the movement, vaguely disappointed by the Iron Spider suit which hides the expanse of his back. "What time is it?" He asks, pulling you out of your thought.

"About ten, by now."

Peter turns around and reaches out to light up your phone screen, seemingly in disbelief, "No way," he says, "I slept for that long?"

"Eleven whole, undisturbed, very clingy hours," you assure, smiling.

He falls back onto the bed next to you and stares at the ceiling, still looking surprised. "I feel kinda better."

"You seem kinda better."

The ghost of a smile alights on his features, but it is quickly replaced by something not unlike guilt. "I'm sorry to have just shown up like that," Peter says, glancing at you, "It was kind of rude. I wasn't feeling great and I was so exhausted that when I swung past the building it suddenly seemed like where I needed to be."

You bring your hand up to his face and turn it back toward you. His eyes meet yours for a moment before he averts his gaze, still looking guilty. Suddenly, you worry that your action may have been an awkward thing to do. "Haven't we lost count of the number of times I've told you that I'm here for you by now?" You question anyway, not moving your hand.

You're reassured when he resumes eye contact, looking more comfortable. "My family all got snapped together, Peter. We're okay. We had some stuff to figure out, sure, but none of us had to suffer through those five years alone. And that means that you, Peter, you are the only person I love who needs me right now. Don't you ever apologize. You could probably kick down my bathroom door while I'm in the shower and demand my attention and I'd hop the fuck out with conditioner still in my hair. I want you to come to me."

Peter stares at you, hard, for a few moments. He puts his hand on yours, which is still resting on his cheek. When he speaks, it's with the first smile he's given you since the return. "I would let you finish your shower after I kicked in your door."

"What a gentleman," you laugh, chest lightening at the sight of his smile, "I'm swooning, Peter. Look at me swoon."

You pull your hand away from his in order to wave it dramatically in front of your face. Peter chuckles, a blessed sound to your ears, and though you suddenly feel like bursting into tears at the joy it brings you, you maintain your facade. "Is it warm in here? My face feels hot. Oh dear."

When you fall dramatically from your side onto your back, Peter takes the opportunity that the extra space provides to snatch the pillow out from underneath his own head and hit you in the face with it. You let him get a few whacks in, giggling, before you grab a hold of it on the next downswing, struggling to pull it from his superhuman grip.

"Submit!" Peter exclaims as he easily manages to pull it from your grasp and hit you several more times, "Tap out!"

"No!" You holler back, launching yourself onto your knees to gain the advantage of higher ground, "Stop cheating, you absolute menace."

Peter falls back to the mattress, gasping, and pushes the pillow upward against your face just enough to make you teeter a bit. "I would never," he says, affronted, pulling his locked elbows back and you forward so the pillow no longer obstructs your view of the betrayed expression he wears.

"You can lift a bus," you insist, putting all of your body weight on the pillow despite the awkward angle in an attempt to force it back down onto his face, "Therefore any use of strength you display is inherently cheating. Jelly arm this fight or I will sue for assault and battery, Peter, I swear to god. I may have let it go before I knew you were Spider-Man, but I will no longer allow it!"

"Alright, fine!"

Peter immediately throws his arms down to the sides of his head. Your weight, no longer supported, instantly falls forward. Had Peter not pushed back his arms before, you'd have rammed the pillow into his face quite hard. As it were, you land, elbows locked, with the pillow in the space your tussle had left between his head and the bed frame. You're left hovering a foot above his face, and you inadvertently realize very, very quickly how beautiful he looks in this moment.

His cheeks are flushed pink, eyes rimmed with dark circles but brighter than they'd been in weeks, messy hair spread out around his head. Seconds pass about as quickly as decades, and despite the eternity you spend there, you can't quite read his expression. Your eyes flicker down to follow the movement of his tongue when it peeks out to moisten his bottom lip, and oh christ-

You all but scramble away, sitting up and putting your back against the wall that the side of the bed is pushed up against. You're silently thankful when Peter only hesitates for a second, looking some odd and vaguely terrifying combination of confused and-- and what? Upset? Angry? Grossed out?

He sits up and shoots you a small smile like it hadn't happened, once again reaching up to fix his hair, which is now monumentally worse than before. "Thanks again," he says, somehow managing to sound like nothing weird and friendship-ruining almost just happened on your behalf, "I guess next time I should dress a bit more appropriately for a sleepover."

The sick feeling that had been seeping through you since the moment you sat up freezes in its tracks and begins to dissipate. "Next time?" You ask.

Peter shifts a bit awkwardly. "I mean, if you're okay with that," he amends quickly, "Obviously I'll back off if you're not, but you said that last night was okay, and. . . I really don't know of any other way to actually get a nights sleep right now."

It's hard not to smile at him when you throw out a leg and lightly kick his side, shocking the unsure expression off his face. "Then I expect I'll be seeing you later tonight, then, huh?"

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