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symphonicmetal101 · 4 years ago

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Brother Bonding(?) HCs

Lucifer

Mammon

He and Mammon have a bit of a complicated relationship, in that Mammon is always getting into trouble, and Lucifer always has to get him out of it, and then takes it upon himself to scold him for getting them into trouble. However, there are times when Lucifer helps Mammon pull pranks on the other brothers, under the condition that Mammon doesn't tell anyone, otherwise he loses Goldie permanently. The pranks are well executed, and often the blame is but on Belphie or Satan instead.

Levi

We know that Lucifer is responsible for Levi's obsession with Ruri-chan and anime as a whole. Lucifer is often concerned for Levi, as he is familiar with self-doubt, and sympathizes with Levi's constant stream of it. He tries to set aside at least one day a month where he will rewatch old anime with Levi, listen to his spiels, and leave him an allowance to use however he would like. If Lucifer is too busy with paperwork, he'll invite Levi to his office and ask him about the latest games and mangas, even if he isn't listening the entire time.

Satan

Ah, this is a little more complicated. Truthfully, they don't spend much time together. However, if Satan happens to mention a book he wanted, even offhandedly, Lucifer will make sure it ends up in Satan's possession somehow, even if it's through MC. Satan notices this, and as much as he wants to hate Lucifer, those days he makes an extra effort to try and not tease or humiliate Lucifer. It's almost like a silent truce.

Asmo

Yeah, yeah, Asmo paints everyone's nails. But Asmo also knows massage and aromatherapy. When Lucifer is particularly stressed, he'll take it upon himself to try and help him relax. If he has the patience, Lucifer will listen to Asmo explain the science between different scents and how they help the mind and body. Sometimes Asmo isn't sure if Lucifer is actually listens, but within three days of their chats, he finds a small package on his bed with different oils, and a note that says, "I look forward to learning what these oils can do." - Lucifer

Beel

Beel likes to cook, bake, etc. Because Lucifer is always on the go, Beel tries to come up with meals that are easy to walk around with. Lucifer is always the one Beel asks to taste test, (if Beel manages to resist eating the entire thing himself), because Lucifer will give him an honest opinion. It's rare that Lucifer has anything but praise for Beel, but on the off chance he doesn't, he'll walk him through a couple of ideas he could do to improve it, and Beel will deliver.

Note: this is also how Beel found out that Lucifer has the lowest spice tolerance out of the brothers, and he is not to mention it to anyone.

Belphie

Another relationship that serves to be more complex. Lucifer often finds himself wanting to reconcile with Belphie, almost to restore the kind of relationship they had when they were angels. But when you lock someone in an attic against their will, (even if it was to protect them), they tend to hold a grudge. Again, they don't really spend time together unless Beel is present, but Lucifer tries to help Belphie in little ways, like switching his linens weekly, fluffing his pillows, making sure he actually makes it to a bed when he goes to sleep. Belphie just assumes it's Beel doing these things though, and Lucifer lets him. He hopes one day Belphie will realize how much he really does care for him.

Mammon

Levi

They usually don't get along, mostly because of financial issues between them. However, when they are able to put that aside, they can actually enjoy each others company. Mammon has a lot of energy, and Levi likes video games. As a compromise, they regularly play games such as DDR or Just Dance. The whole time, they will insult each other, but lovingly.

Satan

Satan will actively look for books on finance, budgeting, business, etc. To help Mammon. He pitches it as ways to help him get rich, and they will spend hours together trying to form a business plan. While Mammon doesn't usually have the patience, for the sake of spending time with his little brother, he pushes through. Satan usually does this only after one of Mammon's bigger schemes fell through, or when Lucifer tells Mammon to stop.

Asmo

These guys both model. Mammon will set aside some money and time to go spend with Asmo on clothes, accessories, etc. Mammon is just as skilled behind the camera as he is in front of it, so whenever Asmo wants to model, doesn't matter where, Mammon is ready. Sometimes when they've planned their outing with enough notice, Mammon will have saved enough money to buy something for Asmo.

Beel

Whenever Beel is cooking for himself, he usually adds a lot seasonings. Sometimes, it's in hopes that spice will slow him down. Other times it's because he really likes the food, but has almost become desensitized to the taste😥 however, when he makes these batches of food, he'll sometimes invite Mammon to join him. Mammon has an ungodly high tolerance for spice, at least when he's eating. (His stomach may or may not suffer later). Mammon sometimes foolishly challenges Beel to a speed eating contest. Beel tries to decline; he just wants to eat, and he does not want to watch Mammon give himself indigestion or heartburn, but Mammon, persistent as ever, will try and eat as many servings of Beel's food as quickly as possible. This is one of the few times Beel doesn't get mad, he just watches with mild amusemeny and concern.

Belphie

Belphie and Mammon are surprisingly close, despite being complete foils of eacb other. Mammon has lots of energy, Belphie has none. Mammon likes to go out, Belphie likes to stay in. However, building forts? Hell yes, Belphie has enough energy for that. They usually build pillow and blanket forts in the observatory. Belphie will direct Mammon in how to build it for the most amount of comfort. Usually they'll just end up plugging in their headphones and listening to their own music in each other's company until they fall asleep and/or Beel joins them.

Levi

Satan

Levi introduced Satan to VR, and their relationship has taken a turn for the better since then. Satan is more interested in medical simulators and animal simulation games. Levi once made the mistake of playing Mario Kart with Satan, and his room was left in shambles, so now they only do sims to avoid the competition with other players. Satan also likes to play Among Us, as it gives him a chance to flex his detective skills. His self-control is much better with this, for whatever reason.

Asmo

Levi and Asmo are constantly at odds. Not like Mammon, but Asmo cringes every time he sees the way Levi is sitting, every time he hears Levi has ruined his sleep schedule, and every time he sees him sleeping in tje goddamn bathtub. Yes, it has lots of pillows, but none of them are really good for support. He is constantly trying to get Levi to at least stretch or do yoga every once in a while, as well as sit properly in his chair. These stretching session are also when Levi starts to talk about the next cosplay he's working on, which Asmo will undoubtedly want to help with.

(Ik that its implied that Levi taught Asmo how to sew and stuff, but that hc is everywhere, otherwise I would elaborate. It's really cute though.)

Beel

Although Levi spends a lot of his time in his room, he is still the Grand Admiral of Hell's Navy. He does dedicate some time to working out, and when he does, he does it with Beel, because he knows Beel will help keep him on track. Beel is also Levi's biggest source of encouragment. Levi thanks Beel in mass quantities of food from Akuzon later, sometimes in hopes of winning something from a draw, other times as a genuine thank you.

Belphie

Introvert buddies! Belphie doesn't really care for video games, Levi doesn't have the same speed as Mammon for building a pillow fort, but sometimes Belphie will ask to come into Levi's room to look at his aquarium. He finds it relaxing. They don't really talk to each other, they just enjoy each other's company. If Belphie is feeling curious or notices Levi is kind of upset, he'll start asking Levi about the different fish in his aquarium, which quickly cheers Levi up. Belphie's favourite thing about Levi though, is that he is usually awake the same time he is, helping him feel a little less lonely.

Satan

Asmo

I've mentioned this before in my random hcs post, but Asmo and Satan like to study astrology together. They find it fascinating in how accurate it can be, especially since they only get to see the *real* stars, moon, sun, and planets when they're in the human realm. Asmo actually introduced it to Satan, as he used to study it in the Celestial Realm as well.

Beel

Beel is constantly coming up with new recipes, so Satan documents them all for him. He'll be a scribe, while Beel tells him exactly what he's doing the whole time. The other brothers don't know, (Beel asked to keep t a secret), but Satan has helped Beel publish 3 cookbooks already.

Satan also attends Beel's games whenever possible, and Beel has attended Satan's debate team or sometimes book club meetings whenever possible. Because Satan and Belphie are close, so are Satan and Beel.

Belphie

>:)

They are constantly coming up with ways to inconvenience Lucifer, which is their main form of bonding. However, Belphie also taught Satan the constellations when they were younger, so now they will often go stargazing together. Satan doesn't remember, but he used to make up stories about the constellations, and Belphie has a written record of all of them. Sometimes, Belphie will retell the stories from memory to see if Satan recognizes it, but to no avail. Instead Satan will tell another story he has read about the stars. They tell each other stories and stargaze until they fall asleep.

Asmo

Beel

Beel will do warm ups with Asmo; basic stretches, a jog, etc. They will sometimes do yoga together. However, Beel works out a lot, and sometimes his muscles get sore, so Asmo gets to work. Being around Asmo brings out the gossip girl in Beel, so while Asmo is giving him a massage, he's also getting all the tea from all the clubs that Beel is a part of. Beel is very careful with his delivery, but he trusts Asmo to never spin his words the wrong way and to use the new info for good.

Belphie

Asmo has his own fashion line. He often asks Belphie to rate the comfort of his clothes, as he wants them to be fashionable, functional, and comfortable. Belphie never pulls his punches, and Asmo is grateful for the honest criticism. However, sometimes it does get on his nerves, but Belphie makes up for it later by getting Asmo new linens, often silk, because Belphie knows Asmo's preferences. Asmo always asks him where he finds it, but Belphie never answers.

Beel + Belphie

These two can bond almost over anything. However, one of their favorite things to do together is make Quetzalcoatl brain soup. Belphie stays awake long enough to remind Beel to leave some for him.

(My brain just left me here to rot apparently, I'm sorry.)

Oof

Masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me thoughts

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ohmrlove · 5 years ago

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They Meet Your Family (on Thanksgiving)

Hi everyone! Long time no see! Work is very busy, so I’m trying to get around that however I can! (≧▽≦)

I hung out with my family yesterday and one of my cousins brought her new boyfriend--then this!

🍷 Victor 🍷

Is both ready and not ready to meet your family. On the one hand, it’s autopilot business mode--keep conversation going, on the other hand, IT’S YOUR FAMILY

Is afraid he’ll come off too blunt or intimidating because he knows he has hardcore RBF (resting bitch face)

Mentally prepares himself for all the ass-kissing and gushing. Probably makes some funny jokes and bets about how many people are going to do it

If you want to join in on that bet and do something fun, say he has to pledge a dollar or whatever amount towards the next couple’s night just so you can destress from all that!

If you’re serious about putting that pledge money somewhere, he’ll flip a coin or will get someone to randomly pick a charity

Second-most likely to get into an argument with THAT family member (or members)

If he’s tasked to cook a side dish, expect him to cook it multiple times because EVEN THOUGH THIS MAN IS A BANGING CHEF, HE’S CONVINCED IT’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!

iT cOuLd bE bEtTeR

You finally tell him if he makes it again, and you have to eat more of it, you won’t eat any come the gathering. Suddenly the last batch is enough

Would also DEFINITELY come through and offer to get something special ordered or catered if lots of people are coming or the ovens will be tied up (or no one wants to cook)

Is actually super uncomfortable because he knows everyone’s going to kiss his ass and ask all the nosy questions for at least an hour or two

He’s the one people catch playing with kids or cats and they’re surprised at how nice and carefree he looks

If he can’t talk down or make it pointedly clear that someone’s conversation is making other people uncomfortable (or they’re just toeing the line of being an ass), there WILL be words

Or he will make it known just by leaving. That sends a pretty clear message

Wants to help set dishes or the table but ends up feeling like a bumbling idiot in someone else’s home and is shooed away for being a guest. Victor feels like a freeloader and doesn’t like it

The one who knows everyone’s name and their taboo subjects because he studied this shit (also, he’s really good with names/faces anyways

📢 Gavin 📢

Also has a milder version of RBF

He speaks abruptly but not to the point of being intimidating. Gavin’s just not one for a lot of words. Too complicated

Blushes really easy during those beginning awkward conversations? Look at his ears and neck!

Stumbles through the first few conversations and DEFINITELY has to ask people to repeat their names

Relaxes after about an hour or if he finds someone he can connect with--someone into sports or who likes a show he watches, or likes to drink.

Is way more active than Victor so he’s the perfect kid-chaser and playtime buddy. He’ll never get tired!

Tolerates kids pretty well but is in the mindset of lecturing them and/or explaining why they shouldn’t do something if he sees ‘bad behavior’ happening

Probably co-conspired with another family member to do a fake arrest or spin some story for a really misbehaving kid :o

He thought it was funny but the kid was scared to death. You’re not amused

Is proud of his cooking when it comes to you two, doesn’t want to share it with your family. Either bought something from the store to look helpful (”S/O brought ‘x’, I brought more drinks. I hope everyone likes them.”) or just left the prep to you. He bought the ingredients and carried it in though.

The one that’s ready to help set up outside chairs and tables

He’s the one that makes cooks happy because he goes back for second (and thirds)

Isn’t the best at taking pictures because his eyes end up closed or his wind blew his hair the wrong way, but they eventually get a good shot of him. Boy’s photogenic, just awkward.

🔬 Lucien 🔬

Considers it an event in people watching

It’s also a treasure hunt for your personality--where did you pick up your traits and quirks?

He’ll mentally track any strong genetics. Things like that fascinate him.

Is 100% mentally prepared for a lot of his work to go over people’s heads. He’s used to phrasing his research different ways

He’s an extremely adaptable conversationalist; he’s got a wide range of topics and knowledge at the ready! Lucien just has to want to talk about it

Very self-conscious about talking too much, and ends up doing the exact opposite

Can BS his way into looking calm, but is actually extremely shy and careful with his words. If not for his smile and kind, watchful gaze people would think he’s being stiff and short with them

Would MUCH rather chase any animals around the house or play with toddlers.

Will answer all the ‘BUT WHY?’ questions little kids have

The one who’s hungry but doesn’t want to make his plate. You sense this and make him one. Lucien is legitimately hungry but also relishes the excuse of having his face full so he can’t talk

Probably ends up getting roped into giving a few diagnosis even though he’s not that type of doctor. Would be honest and tell them he’s guessing, and that he’ll ask around his network of people for more info

Once his introvert/people battery is burnt out he’d very much like to leave (please help him leave)

Probably dozed off after all the food; I can see him sleeping with his head on your shoulder or off in a comfy chair in another room

If your family has a nice backyard or lots of trees and things, he’ll want to go on a post-meal walk to see the flora and fauna

Will help the kids try to catch bugs or teach them about animals he saw on his walk (with pictures, of course)

Overall, he made a nice impression. He’d end up being that weird but cool uncle that’s a nice hermit kind of guy.

🎤 Kiro 🎤

He knows there’s no easy or good way to include himself in your family.

Everyone’s going to freak out and gush about him, given who he is

The two of you tried to ease into things and drop hints but that ended up amping everyone up for a big reveal they DID NOT expect

He’s not super worried, given his Evol, but he will DEFINITELY come to your defense if someone accuses you of trying to be with him for money

He’s also especially sensitive and disgusted with people trying to hook up with him (they’re your family? You’re dating?! You think he’d CHEAT?!) and will call them out on the spot. No shame.

Kiro loves you--you’re his moon and sun!--and he won’t tolerate that FOR A SECOND!

Is low-key exhausted when people ask him all the standard nosy reporter questions

Kind of hates that they ask him about all his travels and other celebrities. He gets that it’s the allure of a ‘celebrity’ but he wanted to learn about THEM. They can search his name and get ALL this info!

If this goes on for too long and he starts to feel like a spectacle, you’ll get him out of there quick and just have a private Thanksgiving

Is super nice and helpful with any kids. Keeps them all distracted and from underfoot while cooking happens

Prefers the joy and company of kids way more because they’re more honest and less...back-stabby? Snake-ish? than adults who think they’re smart and clever

Records nice little messages and videos for the kids or their friends, but won’t live message anyone.

Teaches them some easy choreography in another room or open space like a backyard

Is the unexpected CHAMP of eating--can put almost everyone under the table

Goes HARD on desserts because his agent isn’t here to stop him. Also, it’s rude not to at least TRY the food he’s offered!

The type to complain about how much he ate while trying to reach for one more bite. Stop this man. He has no self control.

If the kids have a craft room (to keep them from being under foot) and they make anything for him--especially if it has his name, like a bead necklace or bracelet--THAT’S NOT COMING OFF! It’ll probably show up in some interviews.

Survives the social onslaught but definitely enjoys getting back to the quiet of the road

If it’s a really long way back or you two flew out to attend, he’s excited to get back to the hotel and relax with you.

Hope you liked it! Happy late Thanksgiving to those who celebrated it!

#mlqc #mlqc Victor #mlqc Gavin #mlqc Kiro #mlqc Lucien #Lucien x Reader #Victor x Reader #Kiro x Reader #Gavin x Reader #mr love queen's choice victor #Mr love queen's choice Gavin #mr love queen's choice kiro #Mr. love Queen's Choice Lucien

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stevebuckyfics · 6 years ago

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Endgame Fix-it Fics

Hello! So, it’s about a week in and I’ve read some fantastic post-endgame fix its, and I thought I’d share them. I’m sure there are more, but these are the ones I loved. I might make another post later on, when I’ve read more :)

Please heed author notes and tags for specific warnings, I will just link the fics with their summary!

born in fire (again and again) by defcontwo

Natasha lands, in dust and sand and light, in the middle of a great landscape of nothingness. She sits up, and touches one hand to the back of her head, and it comes away wet and sticky with blood.

There’s copper in the back of her mouth, and she spits it out into the sand, watching with satisfaction as the blood splatters into the otherwise pristine surface.

“Huh,” Natasha says. “So this is death.”

when we came home by augustbird ( @augustbird )

Fighting is hard. Rebuilding is harder. Post-Endgame AU.

like heaven stood up in you by napricot

“You said you were gonna miss him,” says Bruce slowly. “He was supposed to be back in five seconds, but you hugged him and said ‘I’m gonna miss you.’”

Bucky’s face is serene again now, and gives nothing away. “I know Steve,” he repeats. “You think you can hand him a time machine and some rocks of unspeakable power and he’s just gonna go put ‘em right back where they belong?”

Steve does put the Infinity Stones right back where they belong. He just does a couple other things too. Or: three timelines and a Reverse Time Heist.

picture it soft by midnightroom

When Steve lurches awake, his heart is pounding in his chest. His shirt, soaked in sweat, clings damply to his skin. One fist is clutching the sheets of the bed, and the other is clenched so hard he can feel his fingernails making little half-moons in his palm.

Thanos—

The Stones. Dust drifting through the air, ash so thick you could choke on it. Five endless, aching years of white noise. His team. The lunacy of time travel, the mind-bending, fuse-blowing reality of hand-to-hand combat with himself. The bruise blooming across his cheek to serve as proof. A soft jazz song playing on a record, a crackling hearth, red lipstick. Death, death, death—

Beside him, Bucky shifts in his sleep, turns over so he's facing Steve. His eyes are closed and his mouth is parted, and Steve can see the dark shadow of his hair spread across the pillow like an ink-stain.

(or, Steve and Bucky in the aftermath of Endgame, picking memories apart.)

Ever Mine, Ever Ours by hitlikehammers

Steve goes back to return the Stones, for the sake of the universe.

The extra Pym Particles he palms when Bruce isn't looking, though? Those are for the heart he has now and the heart he took into the ice; those are for the loves he's known and held and lost and found, those—

Those are for the sake of his soul.

Avengers: Endgame Fix-It.

Lichtenberg Figures by rustywrites

Spoilers for Avengers: Endgame

The scars take some getting used to.

(An ending re-work where everybody lives)

When People See Us by Brokenpitchpipe

Rumlow knocks his shoulder good-naturedly. “Hail HYDRA.” “Thanks,” Steve says automatically, “you too.”

Hearing “Bucky’s still alive” in his own voice might have been a little unexpected, sure. But Steve’s definitely not prepared for the entirety of STRIKE to suddenly and inexplicably think he’s a secret Nazi. (He’s not prepared to learn there are secret Nazis either, for the record.)

the epitaph of an old record player by celestialfics ( @liquidsaints )

Peggy, intelligent and adaptable as ever, takes the entirety of his story and mulls over it in her head for a time, sitting across from Steve and studying his face. Her eyes are set, eyebrows furrowed, chin sitting in her hands.

After a long while, she speaks.

“Go home, Steve,” she says, voice sure; she’s determined as she’s always been.

found a place to rest my head (never let me go) by bulletsandbutterflies

ENDGAME SPOILERS.

He tries not to dwell on the unfairness of it. How they had only just been reunited before he was taken away from Steve again. Dwelling makes it harder to move on.

But it’s hard to forget him when he comes to Steve in his dreams. Sometimes, they’re sixteen again, drinking glass after glass of cheap beer to forget the harsh reality that they were struggling to meet ends meet. Other times, they’re in the war, huddled together in the trenches to keep themselves warm from the unforgiving chills of winter.

And there are nights where Steve feels hands on his skin, warm and metal, soft lips against his own.

In which, Endgame decided to ignore Stucky completely so I've come here to fix it.

Part 3 of been waiting a hundred years (and I'd wait a million more)

I Drew a Line for You by Brokenpitchpipe

"What are you doing here, Steve?" Peggy asks.

"I'm," Steve says. "Living."

Peggy smiles. But it's a smile he recognizes, a smile that means she's guessed at the truth and she's guessed right. "No," she says, "you're not."

kingdoms have fallen, angels are calling (none of that could ever make me leave) by bornes

It’s been a long day. It’s been a long five years.

stay by birdjay

The platform buzzes, and suddenly goes quiet. The cycle has finished. Bucky doesn’t bother to look. There’s no way Steve’s coming back when he has the chance to stay. He moves to walk away, to move on with his life, somehow.

“Buck -- ?”

Bucky whirls around, hair flying.

Who I really am (not who I’m supposed to be) by JayPendragon

[SPOILER WARNING for Endgame]

“Don’t tell me it’s not what you want, buddy. I remember you talking about her. You still got her picture in your pocket. You saved the world, you’re supposed to get the girl.”

Yeah, that’s how it goes, isn’t it? Steve thinks but doesn’t say. Once upon a time, before he saw the changes he only ever dreamed of in the thirties come to life in all the colors of the rainbow, before learning that Bucky survived… Back then, he would have agreed.

The Rest of Our Lives by cleo4u2

SPOILERS STOP READING CHRIST

Fix if fic, picking up when Steve hops into the time machine at the end of the movie and telling what Steve really did for the rest of his life. Hint, it's not a she.

There's Only Now, There's Only Here by stevergrsno ( @stevergrsno )

“Steve,” Peggy says when she reaches him with quick, steady steps, her- husband and friend? friends? partners? following behind at a more sedate pace.

“Uh,” Steve says, and “Hi?” and “Would you mind telling me what the date is?”

1951. Steve aimed for home and ended up in fucking 1951.

Jesus christ.

---

In which Steve not showing up on the time pad wasn't exactly on purpose and we ignore 95% of that ending.

kiss me twice by espinosas

ENDGAME SPOILERS!!!

Hey. Still Endgame spoilers.

AU where Steve comes back for Bucky.

You'll see him soon. by JDHD

"Go," Bucky said to Sam, because the thought of having to face the man in front of him - the man he no longer knew - was so much more than Bucky could handle. He was like tinfoil, and he was being crushed gently in a fist, and he just wanted to come out without any rips.

He met Sam's eye, and the other man shook his head for a moment. "No. He looked for you for years, Barnes. Maybe he can explain."

----

BIG OL' ENDGAME SPOILERS.

End of Endgame fix it because we deserve better.

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice by obsessivereader ( @yetanotherobsessivereader )

Staring at the empty platform where Steve had stood just a moment ago, Bucky experiences one of the longest five seconds of his life. Steve’s not coming back, he thinks, over and over, Steve’s not coming back.

“…two, one.”

A weird distortion shimmers in the air as Steve materializes on the platform. Bucky lets out his breath in a quiet rush. He was so sure. He said his goodbyes and convinced himself that he’d get by just fine, that he was happy that Steve could finally have the life he’d always wanted with Peggy. He knew enough about the machine to know that Steve had a chance to go back to the 40s and pick up the life that was lost to him when he crashed the Valkyrie. And yet, here’s Steve back again, looking tired, dusty, disheveled. Bucky can’t tell what Steve’s thinking as their eyes meet. He’s never seen Steve’s eyes look so blue.

Part 2 of Fix-its that my heart needed

i say your name by rohkeutta ( @rohkeutta )

Bucky’s sitting on the back porch steps, curled up against the chill, when the door opens and closes behind him. Sam, perhaps, awoken by Bucky’s nightmares that lurk in the corners of the rooms: shadows that no longer stand up, ghosts who have laid their rifles down.

Bucky doesn't turn. If it's Sam, he can stay. If it's someone else, they can keep the ghosts.

whatever a sun will always sing is you by onibi ( @canobic )

Steve comes back.

It's Been a Long, Long Time (Coming) by bangyababy ( @bangyababy )

He says it'll take five seconds.

Bucky hopes that he's made the right decision.

He counts.

Five.

lighting up in the shadows by buckyjerkbarnes ( @fypoedameron )

"Don't you know by now there's nothing in the world that could make me walk away from you?"

[Or: a fix-it for Endgame because it would seem I have to do everything around here.]

Another Life by Palebluedot ( @brightbluedot )

"Hey, you," he says as he sits.

~~~

Or, it's been a long, long time, indeed.

(ENDGAME SPOILERS)

#spoilers #endgame spoilers #post endgame #endgame fix it #stucky #stevebucky #stucky fic rec #steve rogers #bucky barnes #post endgame pack #*pack

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frankics · 5 years ago

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hello all you lovely lovely people ! thanks again for applying to this rp, you have NO idea how excited i am to get this going. i’m lily, i’m newly 20, in the est timezone and my pronouns are she/her. i love trash tv, my puppies, and the collected works of�� the greatest band in history (one direction). this is my trash daughter frankie, she truly belongs in the garbage but i love her so much. below the cut is my long ass intro for her, i forgive you if you don’t read it all because looking at it now i wouldn’t want to either ! anyway, if you’re interested in plotting with me and frankie, hmu on discord and you can check this blog for some connections i would love to see !

( alisha boe, cisfemale, she/her, MUSE E ) — oh my god, i totally just saw FRANCESCA ARCHER walking through greenwich village! you know, she plays SKYLAR ELLIS on that new netflix show, the village? i can’t believe they’re already famous at TWENTY-ONE. i’ve watched all of their interviews, and they totally come off as IMPERTINENT and RECKLESS, but they can also be ROMANTIC and WITTY. based on their social media, i’d describe FRANKIE like ( worn out black high-tops, mischievous smiles, nails painted different colors, peach vodka, swimming in an ocean during a storm ) — totally makes sense that people call them THE SPITFIRE.

important links: bio. statistics. filmography. muse posts. social media.

warning: death tw on the 5th bullet point!!

the frankie archer story begins in 1996, when her mother yasmiin moves from her home of somalia to brooklyn to pursue an art career. she moved into a tiny apartment halfway across the world, knowing nothing and no one, looking for inspiration. she found it in the form of lorenzo archer, her next door neighbor. they dated for two years, but neither family approved of the other as a match: yasmiin’s family wanted her to return to somalia, and lorenzo’s roman catholic family were not pleased about their son selecting a non-catholic woman. but lorenzo and yasmiin didn’t care, and got married at new york city hall with the court appointed witness. two weeks later, yasmiin was pregnant with frankie.

francesca simone archer was born on june 9, 1999. she is a gemini sun, a scorpio moon, and an aries rising. she was named francesca for her grandmother on the paternal side, and simone after nina simone, the singer that was playing on lorenzo’s record player when they first met. her two siblings, nala archer and zahi archer, were born in 2001 and 2003 respectively.

her childhood is generally quite happy. lorenzo and yasmiin were born to be parents and they love frankie, nala, and zahi endlessly, the type of supportive love that makes children thrive. frankie possesses a natural wit and excels academically, nala is the star athlete, and zahi is a wizard with watercolor. frankie loves the movies and decides she wants to be an actress when she grows up, so lorenzo and yasmiin enroll her in acting classes and improv camps. things chug along in the archer family beautifully.

that is, until frankie gets a high school scholarship to packer collegiate institute, located in the affluent neighborhood of brooklyn heights. she takes it, of course, with her parents’ full support. but she is nothing like anyone else who attends packer, and for a 14 year old who wants to blend in, that is the worst possible thing. she is suddenly, painfully aware of her worn-out clothes, her used books, her strange mother with paint stains on her bleached out jeans. frankie lashes out, screaming and storming off and slamming doors. she and her mother are hurricanes and the rest of the family simply battens down the hatches. one day when frankie is 15, she tells her mother that this family is her worst nightmare. it is the last words she will ever speak to her mother.

a few hours after, the archers get a call that yasmiin has been in an accident. it was a hit and run: a drunk driver t-boned her, and they’re rushing her to the hospital. when the family arrives, the doctors break the news that yasmiin is comatose and that things aren’t looking good. lorenzo refuses to take her off life support, insisting she’ll recover. she is in a coma for nearly a year and a half before he is convinced to pull the plug.

and now, the part of the frankie archer story that everyone knows, the serendipitous hollywood beginning. she’s just a charming, talented, grieving, all-american girl from brooklyn, heading off to juilliard in the fall. on her 18th birthday, the first one spent without her mother, she attends an open call for a role in an indie film called thursday mourning. she thinks it’ll be a fun way to spend the day, or at least distracting enough. and then she gets the fucking part.

long story short, the film blows up. it’s shown at venice, winning the golden lion and a prize for frankie as the most promising young actor in the festival. it’s nominated for four oscars, including a best supporting actress nom for frankie. she doesn’t win, but it’s created a path for her to do whatever she wants, acting-wise. she does three more films in the next two years, gaining a reputation as an indie darling before realizing that indie films don’t make all that much money.

and she needs money, because her father is drowning in hospital bills from yasmiin’s death that he can’t pay. that’s when the offer comes through from her agent: a starring role in an ensemble cast netflix show called the village. she’s planning on throwing the script away. she’s not interested in any television show, much less a teen drama. she’s a serious actress and she certainly doesn’t want to be the next veronica lodge, made fun of on the internet by strangers with discerning taste. but with a little coaxing from her agent, she reads the script, and the role is good, the writing strong. so she takes the village, even though she wants to do movies more, even though she might get memed into oblivion. one episode will halve her father’s debt.

frankie was tapped for the village because while she’s definitely not as famous as some of her other castmates, nor does she have the hollywood background, she has consistently received acclaim for her performances. the producers think it will bring them some clout with the critics, and she has a sterling reputation as a hard worker on set.

so that’s the basic bio of frankie! now onto her personality >:-)

first of all, and most importantly, if you call her francesca you are DEAD.

frankie’s described by the media as a spitfire, and she definitely lives up to that description. she’s not particularly patient with interviews or paparazzi, she has a nasty mouth and an acerbic sense of humor, and to the general public she probably comes across as quite guarded and private about her life. she got into this business to be an actress, not a celebrity.

nevertheless, if she wanted to be a celebrity, she could probably be a pretty beloved one. frankie has a very charismatic, charming way about her, that probably lets her get away with more in the public eye than she should. there’s just something about that hollywood story that makes people relate to her and root for her.

the number one defining characteristic of frankie is her passion. she throws herself intensely into everything she does, feels emotions too vividly, fights for what she wants. she cares so much about everything. acting is her main passion, her forever love. it’s why she’s so good at what she does: she’s not the most talented, she doesn’t have the most training, but she feels so intensely. it also makes her very emotional (classic cancer!) if you’re close with her

also because of this passion, she’s probably the most competitive person you’ll ever meet in your entire life. she’s like, slightly insane about it? she wants to win everything, but she hates losing even more than she likes winning. she’s the type to throw a tiny tantrum if she loses a game of uno.

frankie’s always been bold, likes to live life on the edge, but it became something much uglier after her mother’s death. she’s reckless to the nth degree: doing her own stunts, drinking and partying the night away. she’s not suicidal, but in some ways, it’s like she doesn’t have a huge regard for her own life.

in her private life, frankie is pretty different. it’s not so much that her negative qualities disappear -- she still swears like a sailor and is less than patient. but rather, the flaws become less apparent when you get to know her. she’s sort of a goofy little marshmallow wearing a giant suit of spiky armor.

one of the most loyal people you will ever meet, because she throws herself headlong into friendships and relationships. she’s sort of an all or nothing type gal, so if you befriend frankie expect it to be a very close relationship whether you like it or not.

she is kind of the crazy friend? she’s baby? like she’s absolutely the person who’s encouraging everyone else to do dumb shit, and she’s always coming up with ridiculous ideas and pranks. side note give frankie a prank buddy on set!

she’s really quite witty. she absolutely loves twitter, which is basically the only glimpse the general public would get as to who frankie is in private. her twitter filled with her dumb jokes and random thoughts. in another life, she might have been a twitter comic.

she is a hopeless romantic, which she will never admit to anyone in the world unless it’s layered under 100 miles of sarcasm. the only relationship she’s really ever known is her parents’ relationship, and they were madly in love til the bitter end. she desperately wants something like that, but hasn’t quite found it. she’s been in exactly one pr relationship, but nothing particularly real or long-lasting.

she loves fashion. her mother taught her to sew and she sketches and makes some of her own clothes. her absolute dream is to collab with a designer on a fashion line: some of her favorite labels are marc jacobs, jean paul-gaultier, sies marjan, and moschino! she’s also had a lot of positive press for her red carpet looks.

she has a dog, who she loves more than anything! his name is duke, he’s a staffie rescue, and she brings him on set frequently. she’s lobbying to get him cast as someone’s dog.

she’s playing skylar ellis on the village, and because this is literally so long you can find some info about skylar at these links: statistics, muse posts, social media. i haven’t finished writing her entire bio yet but here’s the rundown: skylar appears to everyone like the pretty princess who has everything she could ever want. her parents are rich, she’s beautiful and smart, and she has a perfect relationship with phillip. but on the inside, she’s drowning. her dad wants her to take over the family company but she wants to be a writer, and the worst part is that she’s good at writing and horrible at business! she’s always been content to go with the flow (aka, what her parents want) because things are good in her life, but after her encounter with james over the summer, she’s realizing that she is completely trapped in a life she doesn’t want in the least. now she’s a conflicted mess of emotion trying to figure out what to do.

#click on her name for a fun lil surprise ;)#this is SO LONG i'm sorry

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cmtrydrve · 5 years ago

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hey ! my name’s link , i go by he/they pronouns , am 21+ & live in the cst timezone ! my only personality trait is being a bts , sment & girl groups enthusiast . i’m an aries sun with a pisces moon , which means i can be aggro , am always loud & obnoxious , but am a secretly sensitive softy , so plz be nice to me !!! this is my child , mikey , who’s stuck in 2006 & never grew out of his emo phase ( take that , mom ! ) . he’s also an aries , because my jjks always end up like that . hopefully , you’ll love him as much as i already do ! under the cut , you’ll find some misc . info & wanted connections . here are links to his dossier page & his pinterest board , which will hopefully give you some deeper insight . i’m excited to be here & write with you all ! like this if you’d like to plot & i’ll fly to your ims , but also feel free to add me on d*scord ( it’s easier for me as well ) : no brain only loving bts#6669 !

— jeon jungkook. he/they. demiboy. | was that michael “mikey” kwon i just saw in the hideaway lobby ? i hear the twenty-two year old spends most of their time working as a record store clerk / studying communications , but i’ve always just seen them dyeing their hair different colors with kool-aid . they live in 3c and i often see them in the halls. they always give me a vibe of getting into arguments online , an entirely black wardrobe and drinking six cups of coffee to make it through the day .

misc . info :

his parents are both very hip artists who met & fell in love while attending art school. they’re both very modern kind of parents, which meant that mikey grew up around a lot of self-expression (& being told to try it for himself), paint everywhere & pot.

growing up, he was allowed to paint his walls & even ceiling however he pleased & it instilled a love of creativity in him. his parents still have paintings he did as a child hanging up on their walls & fridge. even now, he still draws casually, though it was always a hobby for him & not his actual passion.

his parents are extremely caring & understanding. as a teenager, they allowed him to go out & party & always made sure to get him home safely. mikey genuinely can not remember a single time they ever yelled at him even when he fucked up massively. so he tries his best to make sure they’re happy & taken care of. but they’re adamant in supporting whatever mikey wants to do.

they were both the alternative types, which meant that rock music filled their home. mikey was familiar with classic rock from a young age & the sounds of fleetwood mac & other similar bands fills him with a warmth that can only be attained from childhood nostalgia.

his first taste of love came at the age of seven. his parents always brought home new albums to listen to & his dad purchased three cheers for sweet revenge by my chemical romance. while the screaming & raging instruments could have been too much for anyone else his age, mikey embraced it fully.

it ignited an adoration for the genre as a whole & soon enough, his parents were bringing home various emo music albums to sate the always dramatic & over-reacting mikey. for christmas, he received mcr’s discography (at the time, just two albums) on vinyl, which he still has hanged proudly on his wall as an adult.

he owns every variation of every mcr album now. vinyl, cd, cassettes. he even collects the japanese versions because he likes the way they’re designed.

he dropped the name mike / michael because of mikey way & he refuses to answer to anything else.

even though it’s largely part of “cringe culture” now (which mikey refuses to participate in), he loves hot topic & goes there whenever he can. his closet is full of band tees & he has a drawer filled with those spiky belts, bracelets & pants with the suspenders from his teenage years.

he’s been dyeing his hair regularly since he was twelve. he’s had every color under the sun. this is what his hair currently looks like but he dyes the highlights with kool-aid, so the color is always changing.

he has a nostril piercing & would probably get more done if someone so much as implied that he should.

he has a mcr stan twitter account & he gets into fights with everyone he decides has a wrong opinion. he’s been suspended multiple times for being too aggressive online, but he always comes back. he also has a tumblr account but he just uses it to reblog pictures of gerard way (his bias KJHFDKJ).

he works at a record store & goes to school for communications. he hopes to either be a radio dj or podcast host. he wants to get paid to talk about how much he loves music either way. but he loves his current job because he gets to talk about music all day and recommend albums to people. also it’s helpful in perfecting his own vinyl collection.

yes, he cried the day mcr broke up & yes he bought tickets to all their reunion shows. he took the day off when the tickets went on sale & his boss was understanding, knowing how much he loves the band.

he’s extremely impulsive. if you tell him to do anything, he more than likely will. he has a lot of stupid scribbled tattoos on him for this reason, especially on his hands.

while he doesn’t mind appearing masculine & even embraces it, he doesn’t fully align with being a man. he started identifying as nonbinary in his teens, but has never felt 100% a man his whole life. he’s fine with both he or they pronouns for the most part, though he does have his preferences day to day. he introduces himself as nonbinary so it’s not a secret & everyone who interacts with him is aware.

he’s kind of a party animal. he’s that loud person who drinks too much & ends up blacked out on the floor.

he gets in trouble a lot, because he plays music very loudly at both his workplace & his apartment. but he’s of the opinion that if music is too loud for you then you’re just too old.

he’s aggressive & very arrogant. he will fight you about anything & everything. he just likes to argue & he thinks he’s right about everything.

in typical aries fashion, he loves to flirt & be flirted with. he just adores attention & seeks out affection where he can find it. he gets crushes really easily & pursues aggressively (he’s extremely charming & good at making people feel good about themselves), but he gets bored when he actually obtains the person he desires. he’s never really seriously dated, but has had over a billion crushes in his lifetime.

thought dramatic & annoying most of the time, he’s also very loyal & has a good heart. if you’re in his circle of people he likes, then he’ll do anything for you point blank. he always tells his friends that he’d die for him & he means it.

while he tries to appear confident, he has secret insecurities stemming from being the middle child. he has issues with feeling like he’s not good enough or thinks he’s unnoticed by everyone, so he acts up by being dramatic.

he drinks A LOT of coffee, so he’s pretty much always bouncing off the walls.

he’s extremely pansexual & loud about it. if you’ve known him for longer than five minutes then you’ll find out how he wishes he could smash gerard way specifically in the helena mv to smithereens.

he very casually knows how to play guitar. he’s that person who plays wonderwall at every party.

while he’s not a fan of pop music, he knows most girl group dances & can do them well.

wanted connections :

exes (any gender. it will more than likely be something casual, like a few months or less, but we can discuss the timeline! also it can be messy or friendly. extra points if there’s lingering feelings!)

hookups / fwbs (any gender. singular experiences or regular type things)

childhood plots for those who’ve lived in seattle (childhood friends, first kisses / crushes, all that good stuff)

flirtationships that don’t go anywhere

one-sided crushes (don’t mind who has the feelings!)

mutual pining but they’re both idiots & have no idea

party buddies (can be drinking &/or smoking). emo music buddies. netflix buddies. any of these can be combined.

enemies???? (if we can decide on a suitable plot. or enemies with benefits :smirk:)

someone who knows of mikey from his stan twitter but doesn’t realize it’s him & talks shit openly about the asshole who runs the account in front of him.

on the opposite side of the spectrum, someone who he flirts with in the dms & they plan to meet up after realizing they live in the same apartment building.

tinder date (it can go well or not)

frequent customers (customers he flirts with or can’t stand because they just loiter or gets into fights with because they have bad taste in music

someone who takes advantage of mikey being willing to do anything he’s dared to do. make him do all the stupid shit he shouldn’t be doing, whether it’s getting tattoos / piercings or anything dangerous or just idiotic.

you’re sick of this asshole blasting music late at night & go to yell at him for it but oops he’s actually attractive (or you actually can’t stand him, whichever GKDHFGJFKD).

i have a huge tag full of plots i’d love to do on my rp spam blog. not all of them will be fitting for mikey but just ask me & we can try to change some elements or something!

literally anything you can think of i’m probably down for it!

#hide:intro #◟ * 𝟎𝟏𝟑. 𝑔𝑜 ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑙 𝑝𝑙𝑧 › OUT OF CHARACTER #not me being ready on time for once wow

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deflowr-blog · 5 years ago

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oh no , it’s me , marty , 18 , he / him , comin’ at you live right from the depths of the underworld ( cst ) . i’m so tired bc i work litcherally all day five days a week , but guess who decided to join an rp anyway bc it’s been to long since he’s written Anything ?? anyway , here’s this li’l sh/t , jude , my darling dearest who’s gone by several different names and slightly different histories before this . this’ll probs be Brief bc i’m planning on making his pages tomorrow . like this ‘n’ i’ll mosey on over to you , or you can hmu here or on discord @ dick’s wings#3074 ! xoxo

﹠ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑝𝑝

— - ̗̀ it was great seeing JUDE FLORES around barcelona today! the NINETEEN y/o is originally from santa rosa, california, but they’re here to study biomedical sciences as an EXCHANGE STUDENT. i heard the SECOND YEAR got into barcelona university because they’re persevering, but some say they can also be hot-headed. no wonder people are starting to call them THE MAVERICK.

﹠ 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑠

full name: jude flores nn(s): literally any variation of his name tbh dob + pob: august 12th & cali zodiac: leo sun , capricorn moon gender + pronouns: demiguy , he / him sexuality: homosexual , greyromantic ethnicity: mexican ( spanish + indigenous ) , iranian , various white nationality: american language(s): english , spanish , catalan , french label: the maverick faceclaim: benjamin wadsworth

﹠ 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑

TRIGGER WARNINGS: death & mental / verbal abuse , underage drinking mentions .

basically , his parents are well - off enough to be comfortable with a tad bit of extra cushion . his mom divorced his bio dad when he was four , and she remarried her side - guy . his dad got him on the weekends and every other thursday and friday , and he preferred being with his bio dad , who was his hero and main inspiration ( and still is ) .

his bio dad died in a workplace accident when jude was ten , and his bio mom got full custody of her golden boy ( that’s what his step - dad called him , and not in a Nice way ) . he’d acted out before then , but after his dad died , he acted out a lot more frequently and more intensely -- but he also got better at hiding it and finding ways around consequences .

he’s had his mind set on going to barcelona for college since he was seventeen and freshly out of high school . he wanted to get as far away from his mom and step - dad as possible , because when they weren’t ignoring his existence , they were overbearingly loud and mean ( and he was loud & mean right back ) . they were more than happy to pay his tuition and get him out of their hair .

he started smoking somewhere between the ages of sixteen and seventeen . was drinking before then .

as for friends , he wasn’t ever really , you know , the most popular kid . he was bullied in elementary until he stood up for himself in fifth grade by punching a bully in the jaw . as he grew , he preferred his lonesome , because everyone he got close to would quickly turn around and start ignoring him or whispering behind his back . kids , right ?? // he DOES have one friend he made in eighth grade that is still his best friend , to this day , but he and his family moved to australia , of all places , in their senior year .

TDLR: his parents suck , he’s never liked people , grew up too fast , and he misses his dad and best friend . oh , and , he grew up speaking both english and spanish , using almost only spanish when with his bio dad .

﹠ 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑠

too intelligent to his own good , but not exactly the wisest . his best subjects are science and math , and he’s a li’l nerd , but by g*d if he isn’t also the stupidest dude ever , and he knows it . he does it on purpose .

cynical , sarcastic as hell , and has a deeply rooted hatred for authority and most anyone who is above the age of a millennial . he’s ( mostly ) self - interested , and he’s gotten people into trouble before without remorse , even though they hadn’t ever done anything to him .

quiet and soft - spoken , but easily riled up . he’s got a short fuse , and anyone who has met him knows this very well . he doesn’t usually yell , but he’s gotten into many fights in the past . he’s got more bite than bark , when he’s truly pissed off .

seems fearless , but he’s just very brave , bold , impulsive , and stupid . he will provoke someone thrice his size , and he’ll do almost anything someone dares him to do . he’s got a good record for that .

he’s good at not getting caught by authority figures , or if he is caught , it’s not entirely difficult for him to get out of a slippery situation . he’s got his wits to help him out where his physical strength and agility lack .

he could be literally dying and he’d still try to get up and walk , and piss off the people he doesn’t like or who hurt him . his perseverance and determination rarely falter , and it’s not always a good thing .

okay , so , he’s aloof and doesn’t like being close to anyone , but he always finds himself getting close with at least one or two people that he lowkey would die for . he’ll tease ‘friends’ to no end , but all in good nature , and it’s easy to tell when he likes you because he’ll talk a little more , and walk or sit closer to you ( and it’s easier to fluster him ) . he’s actually a pretty decent friend , if you get that close to him , always there and willing to help ( even though he’ll tell everyone else he doesn’t actually care about you , he does ) .

TDLR: he’s a little shit who has A Heart and is to Smart and Mischievous for his own good , with the mouth of a sailor , albeit a quiet one . gets headshakes and tsks from everyone .

﹠ 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

close friend , confidante: someone who rivals his best friend in australia , who he didn’t even realize he was getting close to when it was happening . he’d always be suggesting they go out together and do whatever . he’d just want to hang out with them a lot because they’re “ the only person he can stand . ” he’d die for them .

rivals , enemies , nemesis and what - have - yous: probably someone or some people who are more stuck - up , who always follow the rules ; OR who are just very competitive and want to see who can do the stupidest shit without getting caught . can be amiable or actually full of disdain .

study buddies / smol group of ‘friends’: he’s really neutral with them , but talks more to them to most others ( a lot more , actually ) . they give him the chance to completely nerd out , and they actually understand what’s coming out of his mouth , even when it’s coming out a mile a minute . and he listens when they do the same , and they help each other out when they’re stuck , teach each other new things , etc . basically , they’re total adorable geeks together .

bad - influencee: someone who’s , for some reason , taken an interest in him and actually wants to hang out with him , and he’s starting to rub off on them with his mischievous , cunning , deceitful ways .

literally anything . i will love you and any connections you have in mind .

#abroad.intro #he is so . . . *sniffles* . . . dumb #but so am i #writing this at the last minute at midnight #* after midnight lmao #when i have to be awake in less than 6 hrs #smdh

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frickfracksnatchisback · 6 years ago

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Fixing the Broken Past (AGIT AU-Part 2)

A Gear in Time AU belongs to @shaykai / @hatsparadox. Go check them out!

Here we are again with part two! Finished this one earlier than the last, but I don’t expect to be done with the third bit soon. (Yeah, this might be a four parter)

Warning! Tons of angst up ahead, it gets really dark at the halfway mark! (Which is Moon's part, go figure) Just warning in case you don’t enjoy reading that kind of stuff!

But if you do, you’ll like what happens next ;)

***

For Snatcher, being locked away in a dusty old shed was not a fun experience. You couldn’t do much no matter how hard you tried. Not to mention it was a dreadfully boring situation, one that he had the displeasure of being in. But there was one good thing about it, you had all the time in the world to think to yourself. And being bored and forced to just think for what feels like an eternity, you start to come across interesting conclusions.

Like how all humans are disgusting, selfish, and very deserving of all the loathing in the world.

For instance, the way humans sleep peaked his interest. It was something he often liked to think about. When a human sleeps they are unaware of the outside world. They mutter in their sleep, toss and turn, some even sleep walk. But they aren’t really conscious when they do this. They have no clue that they’re doing it and they won’t remember a thing about it when they wake up. And if someone were to tip-toe ever so quietly into their room, they wouldn’t notice unless the intruder made any loud noises. So humans had a rather care-free experience when it came to being asleep.

Robots, however, were not so lucky.

Sure, a robot can ‘power down’ when they need to recharge. And if desired, a human can manually ‘shut down’ a robot and it will stop moving. And when a robot is powered down or shut off they can’t move, can’t speak, and they defiantly can’t see an inch in front of their face.

However, that doesn’t mean that the robot is unconscious.

The robot, despite what a human may think, is not ‘asleep’ whenever they are shut off. They can still feel everything that happens to them. Every cut, every dent, and every tap on their metal body. That means that every single form of stimulation under the sun, a robot can still feel while they are shut down. Humans don’t know this of course, why would they? Robot engineers where still under the foolish assumption that when a robot is ‘shut down’ they can’t feel a thing. Shows you how much humans really know about robots.

Also, that robot can still hear and think while they are shut down.

Their audio sensors are still active in case of emergencies, and so are their central processing unit. What kind of emergencies? Oh you know, the normal things. Burglars, kidnappers, murderers, etc. But that also meant that whenever a human thinks the robot is ‘asleep’ and they want to talk bad about them, that robot can still hear them. Every. Single. Word. And the robot, if they so choose, can also take those conversations and record them to analyze later. Which was fun to listen to whenever you were bored. A good way to pass the time really.

That is, if you could simply switch it off and go to sleep.

But no, the robot doesn’t get that simple pleasure. He doesn’t get to just ‘sleep’ like a regular human, not caring at all about what happens and actually catching a break for once. He is still conscious against his own will. Always awake, never getting to rest or pass out. He has to listen, just listen, to the outside world around him. For days. For months. For what feels like an eternity to him. Which is traumatizing, no?

Oh, but there was one exception.

Let say, for example, a robot was to be damaged in such a way that it would technically knock him ‘unconscious’. How could that happen you ask? Well there’s many ways it could happen! The robot could just fall down the stairs and bump his head or something could fall on his head even! Or maybe, just by random chance, a heartless little brat could use a blunt object to smack the side of his head! You know, the side were his power button just so happened to be!

Oh and let’s just say for laughs and giggles that said object would be, oh I don’t know, a P**KING CROWBAR!

……

(P**king auto censors)

These were normally the things he thought about while he was shut down. And what else was there to do really? Well, he could always replay the recordings that his audio sensors managed to pick up. Those were fun. Especially the ones from his other half. Those were really fun… click

Who’s the fool now? Ha ha ha!

Look at you, you’re nothing but a waste of space now!

Farewell my friend! Let us hope that you have a swell time rusting alone in this horrid place!

Boy, was he a charming hunk of scrap or what? He often thought about crushing him with his bare hands, making him plead and beg for mercy. Of course, he couldn’t. He couldn’t move at all, which just made him angrier than he was before.

But, there were always others that he could take his aggression out on. Like those blue-suited men! The ones that were lead by a red-coated boss. What did they call themselves? It something with ‘M’... Oh right! They were called the Mafia! Ah, those were good times. Short, but good. After all, it was the first time he was powered on. He loved to listen to those recordings… click

Hurry up you good for nothings! Mafia Boss needs the robot out of there pronto!

What is Mafia waiting for?! Switch it on already!

Heheheh…

Wh-huh? Why is it laughing?!

You! How dare you laugh at Mafia!

Hahahahahaha!

Oh...oh no

Turn it off! I said-

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

QUICK! TURN IT OFF NOW! TURN IT-

Heh, now those were delightful! Shame that the fun only lasted for a few seconds. One of those Mafia just had to be carrying a demobilizing gun. Way to ruin the party big head. Of course, that wasn’t the only time he was switched back on. There was another moment, a few more years apart, that he also had recorded… click

I don’t know if this is a good idea Tim

But his data is still intact! Don’t you want to know what happened to him?

Well...yeah but-

If I had to come all the way to scan him at least give me this

...Alright, alright

Then let’s not waste anymore time! Hurry up and switch him on Thor!

I’m getting it, hold on...there!

Hello there! My name is Tim and this is my companion, Thor

Uh...hi there

He’s not much for words I’m afraid. But I’m sure you’ve got plenty to say, no?

Oh I have something to say alright...

Tim, I don’t like that look on his face

Tell us then! We want to know about-

FOOOOOOOOOOOL!

TIM LOOK OUT! HE’S GONNA-

Well...that was all right. Not as good as the first time, but all right. Those old geezers weren’t nearly as energetic as the Mafia goons. But they did have one thing in common. They both carried around demobilization guns apparently, just his luck. He so badly wanted to show those puny engineers who’s boss.

The pathetic engineer, the one named Thor (who hit him with the gun), had been his only source of information these few years. Much to his dismay, he was very talkative. Shame that he could talk back this time, he had an awful lot to say

What the heck is wrong with you?!

We show you kindness, and this is the thanks we get?!

‘Kindness’ huh? Yeah right, as if any human has ever been kind to a robot. I know your motives, you were just going to sell me for money. So don’t even act like your all pure and good of heart.

…

What happened to you old pal?

Don’t call me that. I am not your pal. I will never be your pal.

You know, somethings tells me that I don’t wanna know

Good, because you’re never going to know. Now why don’t you go find something to fix?

I should get back to work…

You do that then. And while you’re at it, why don’t you start fixing that brain of yours? I think it has a few bugs you need to work out.

A few months passed and the engineer kept quiet for a little while, which was a nice surprise. But it was quickly interrupted one day, only for a moment.

I’m sorry about this buddy

He could feel something being draped over him. It startled him at first, the lack of stimuli was disorienting to him. Whatever he had put over him, it made it slightly harder to hear things. A sheet of some sort?

I’m hiding you buddy, I can’t have you scaring my customers

Oh really? Why thank you for such a kind gesture! You have just made my chances of escaping and living a happy human-free life practically impossible now! So thanks for that.

Besides, Tim would kill me if I sold you off

Trust me, I’ll do him the favor.

Quiet again, this time for much longer. That is until a promise of good news came.

Mr. Thor? What about this one?

A small voice interrupted the quiet. It seemed that the engineer had some new ‘customers’. How lovely! He tried to see if his sensors could catch the whole conversation. He heard and felt the sheet being removed from off of him. He could hear two voice plus the engineer’s simply chatting away, unaware that he was listening in on them.

It looks pretty cool for a piece of junk!

What?! Who said that?! Why you little-

Yeah, hostile is putting it lightly

What? No! Don’t tell them that!

Maybe he was scared

Scared? Ha! Hey, whatever convinces you gullible fools works fine with me!

You’re not taking this guy with you

What are you doing?! You idiot, you’re ruining everything!

Please?

C’mon say “yes”! Say “yes”!

…

HURRY UP AND SAY “YES” ALREADY!

Okay, fine

You can take him with you

He could feel his body being lifted and moved around for the first time in what felt like forever. It was the engineer, he was moving him out of his workshop. Which meant he was free! Finally he was free! All he had to do was just leave the schmucks who bought him and he would be on his own!

This is a bad idea…

Are you kidding? This is the best decision you’ve made in months! A real improvement if I’m being honest.

Then again...you wouldn’t hurt a child, would you?

Excuse me, what?

Nah, the squirt’s a good kid

I’m sure you two will get along just fine

...at least I really hope so

Oh you’ve GOT to be kidding me.

He was sold as a toy. A simple child’s plaything. Perfect, just perfect. As if his dignity couldn’t sink any lower, it had now hit rock bottom. Well, at least it would make his escape easier. Children didn’t carry around demobilization gun, so that was a plus. Poor kids though, they were going to have nightmares for weeks!

Finally, after years of reminiscing over the past, he could would be switched on again. It was about time too. He was starting to grow tired of not being able to move. Not to mention his joints must be rusting away at this point. Of course, there was the slightest possibility that he could be shut off again. Not this time though, he was going to make sure of it.

After all, this could be his last chance.

***

Cold...it felt so very cold.

The chill of the air cause Vanessa to stir from her sleep. Different senses attacked her all at once. The smell of corrosive metal and rust filled the air. She could also hear strange sounds. The sound of scraping metal, which was painful to her ears, was faint when she awoke but becoming louder now. And the sound of someone...humming? Yes, someone was humming a tune in rhythm with the scraping.

She groaned as she slowly lifted her head. She had been in an odd sleeping position, with something flat and hard supporting her back. Every inch of her body was sore and ached slightly. Whatever she had been sleeping on was cold against her skin and shocked her. She made an attempt to get up.

She found that she couldn’t.

She opened her eyes, confused as to why she could get out of bed. She awoke to find that she was not in her bedroom but in a dark room made of rusted, metal walls. She tried to move, only to find she had been pinned down on something flat and made of metal. Her arms where strung up above her head and her legs were split apart by the metal cuffs around her wrists and ankles. Her eyes widened in fear as she let out a surprised yelp. Her cry was muffled by a gag tied around her mouth, which she hadn’t noticed while in her sleepy daze. But she was awake now. Awake, and very frightened.

She struggled as much as she could, hoping that the metal cuffs were old enough to break by force. She turned and twisted her body, grunting in effort. She stopped, and began to shiver. She had been kidnapped, taken away from her home by some creep. But who? She tried her hardest to think back but her head ached too much for her to think clearly.

She heard the humming again. There was someone in the room with her.

She looked forward to see Moonjumper, who was standing by a metal table. He was humming away as he picked up tools from off the table, polishing them and cleaning them off with an old rag. She noticed that his lower arms were also sharping the tools, which caused the scraping noises. She watched in terrified fascination as his arms seemed to have a mind of their own. The would grab the tools from his upper arms, sharpen them, and set them back on the table. It was like a factory conveyor belt, never losing track and in perfect sync. And she would had been perfectly content with simply watching the spectacle.

That is, if he wasn’t cleaning dried blood from those tools.

The show turned from spectacular to horrifying as she noticed the bloody rag he was using. He had a very concentrated face as he stopped what he was doing to pick up a large knife from of the table. He look at it for a moment and began to drag it across the table’s surface. It made a terrible sound, Vanessa cringed at the noise. He stopped, looking rather satisfied with the results, and set the knife back down.

She shuddered, she instantly recalled what had happen before. She had been put to sleep and he must have dragged her to wherever she was now. She had no clue what he was going to do to her. But judging from the tools on the table, it was not going to be pleasant. That knife was meant for her, he was going to torture her. Horrifying images clouded her mind, making her breathing and heartbeat become more rapid. She tried to struggled from her bonds again, harder this time.

“Oh, you’re awake! What a pleasant surprise!”

She gasped in surprise, he had noticed her stirring. He used his wheel to move toward her, his red eyes illuminating the darkness of the room. The red light fell on her face and she began to panic. She continued to struggle, quietly screaming through her gag. He grabbed her face and forced her to look at him. He shushed her and squeezed the sides of her face tightly, making her whimper in fear.

“Hush, hush now. There’s no need to be so upset my love.” he purred. She tried to yank her hands from out of the cuffs so she could slap him across the face. He quickly noticed this and tsk-tsked in disappointment. “Honestly Vanessa, I’m surprised at you. I thought you would behave yourself better.” he sighed as he let go of her face. “I supposed I’ll have to make these tighter won’t I?” he sighed again and began to mess with the cuffs on her wrists.

She yelled in surprise and pain as the cuffs became much tighter on her wrists. He then bent down to tighten the lower cuffs next, she begged through the gag but he wasn’t listening. When he was finished the cuffs where so tight that she couldn’t move her hands or fingers or even wiggle her feet. She started to sob, ugly tears dripping down her face. Moonjumper watched with a deadpan expression, like he was bored of her actions. Why was her prince doing this to her?! Didn’t he love her?

“I see. You’re confused aren’t you?” he said as if she was a complete idiot. She couldn’t tell through all the tears in her eyes, but it almost seemed as if he rolled his eyes at her. “Do you want an explanation or do you want to keep whining?” he fussed at her. She stopped for a moment, sniffling still, and slowly nodded her head. It was all she could think to do now. Moonjumper smiled cheerfully and put his hands together.

“How wonderful! See? I knew you were a clever girl.” he giggled in mad delight. “Well, first things first, welcome to your new home!” he said as he rolled back to present the room to her. She stared at him, utterly confused by what he meant. “I know, I know. It’s not a very exciting room is it?” he said. In her opinion, she thought, was a very exciting room. Just not the good type of excitement.

“Don’t worry, this isn’t your room. You’ll only be in this room temporarily!” he said as he came back closer to her. Vanessa’s heart sank at the news he told her. New room? Did he expect her to stay here with him in this wretched place?! She already lived in the manor! She didn’t need this!

“What’s wrong my love? Are you not excited?” Moonjumper said with a worried expression. She shrank back as much as she could as he came closer to her. He touched her check, caressing it with his cold metal hand. He tried to calm her down as she was shaking even more than before. “Shhh...there, there. It’s okay, I’m here for you.” he cooed to her in a strange tone. “Vanessa, you know I’m only doing this for you right?” he said softly as he stared lovingly into her eyes. Although the way he spoke was intended to be friendly, his lowers arms where roughly holding her in place to stop her from shaking.

“I came back to reunite with you remember? To take you away and give you a new life.” he smiled as he brought his face towards hers. “Humans live such sad and short lives, I want to make yours better. Wouldn’t you like that? A life where you can live forever with me, your beloved prince?” he continued as he nuzzled his face against hers. She cried in shock, his face was somehow colder than his hands were. “Oh, how I wish this moment could last forever.” he sighed dreamily as he embraced her in a freezing cold hug. She could feel his weight pressing on her chest, it felt like he was crushing her insides.

“But, we mustn’t dawdle!” Moonjumper said as he quickly stopped cuddling her and drew back, Vanessa gasped for breath. “We’re going to have to start a little early if I want to make some progress. You don’t mind right?” he asked her as he made his way back to the metal table. She was too busy coughing to answer him. She managed to stop herself so she could see what he was doing. He was singing to himself as he was looking through the parts on the table. He noticed that she was staring at him and smiled creepily. He used his four arms to grab several tools from off the table and displayed them.

“Do you like my new toys my lady?” he laughed as her eyes widened in surprise. “Don’t worry, I won’t be using all of them on you. That would be overkill, and we wouldn’t want that would we?” he said as he set the tools back and picked a singular one from the bunch. This tool was a small, thin cutting tool that wasn’t nearly as thick as the other knifes. “This one though, I’ll be using this one a lot. It’s quite handy and it’ll be useful for getting rid of that pesky flesh you have.” his smiled grew wider as he dragged a claw against the tool’s surface.

Vanessa screamed as loud as she could, hoping that someone would hear her. Moonjumper’s smile faded as she screamed. He took the tool, raised it up, and stabbed the table with great force. Vanessa stopped immediately after the heard the loud noise of the tool puncturing the table. The two stared at each other as the room went silent. She kept her eyes on him, scared of what he was going to do to her.

“I suppose it can’t be helped can it?” he grumbled, taking the tool out of the table’s surface. “Hold on a moment.” he said as he looked through the pile of tools for something. He picked out a metal box from the side of the table and opened it. He took out a syringe filled with a glowing green liquid. He tapped the side of it and pricked the needle to make sure it was sharp enough. “I normally don’t do this with my experiments. Then again, they aren’t as special as you are.” he half-smiled as he went back over to her.

“Now, hold still.” he instructed as he lifted her chin up to expose her neck. She went completely still, not wanting to make him angry again. She could feel the needle being plunged into her neck as a warm fluid seeped into her veins. Her neck began to tingle and soon she could feel the rest of her body do the same. She wanted to squirm uncomfortably, but she couldn’t. Her whole body felt stiff and her breathing slowed. Moonjumper looked very pleased as he removed the needle.

“There we go! That wasn’t so bad was it?” he laughed as he went back to the table to put the empty syringe back in its box. “Now that should numb most of the pain for you. At least, until it wears off that is.” he said while sifted through the tools again. “But it should suffice...ah! Here it is.” he exclaimed as he eventually found what he was looking for. He held up a medium sized circular saw with a strange metal piece affixed to the bottom. He passed it down to his lower arms and then proceed to tug on his own hand.

Vanessa couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight as his hand popped off of his wrist. She watched, terror-stricken, as the fingers on his hand still wriggled as he placed it down. He then stuck the tool into where his hand used to be. It made a clicking noise, and the saw spun around as he checked to make sure it worked. He proceed to do the same process to the rest of his hands except one. He detached two of his hands, picked up a chainsaw and a pair of cutting scissors, and put them in place. He tested these tools also, with the chainsaw making a loud whirring noise and the scissors snipping without a handle. Finally, he used his still attached hand to grab the slim cutting tool he had used earlier.

He danced back to where she was, spinning and singing merrily. He pulled a nearby lever on the wall and, without warning, Vanessa went flying backwards. She was now laying sideways and was forced to stare at the ceiling as she couldn’t turn her head. Moonjumper sang to his heart’s content as he spun around her, as if he was preforming for her amusement. His torso twisted around unnaturally as he danced an insane waltz in a circle. His singing turned into mad cackling that echoed against the metal walls. He stopped to lean over her, his shadow covering her entire face. He grinned like a maniac as he held up the various tools.

“Well now! Let us begin!”

***

Sorry if this part was a little lackluster. The third part is gonna be fun though! Whenever that’s done amiright?

Also Vanessa is not going to have a fun time

42 notes · View notes

hayleysstark · 6 years ago

Text

The Twenty-First Night of September

Chapter 1

Words: 4654 Warnings: None Summary: The Giver is just the sweetest, nicest, most thoughtful, most considerate troll in the entire village, because Poppy says so, and Poppy is never wrong. She just kind of didn't think maybe the Giver might be Branch. // The AU no one asked for. Pre-film. Multi-chapter. Eventual Branch/Poppy. Dual POV. Extremely slow burn.

Notes: This idea has come an incredibly long way to tell you guys the truth. I initially thought up the plot right after S1 dropped LAST January ((dfghgfrhgfgb can you BELIEVE this series has survived an entire year)) but I didn't actually do anything with it - I typed up a couple rough drafts here and there, but none of them felt right, and at one point, it even got turned into an RP ((with my buddy @etheriumart, they have an account on here and Fanfiction, check them out u cowards)) and I was pretty much on the verge of abandoning it completely, but I decided to give it one more go.

Fun fact, this is actually only my third time writing from Poppy's perspective ever (Just Friends and One Night being the first two) so I'm very much still learning. How have I been in this fandom for a solid two years now and only written twice from Poppy's POV? blasphemy. she deserves my respect. Anyway, though, the next chapter should be from Branch's point of view, so I'll get back to my regularly scheduled programming then lmao. Honest feedback's very very appreciated! I know I got lots of room to improve, and outsiders' opinions usually help with that.

Set several years before the movie, by the way, so Branch and Poppy are both in their teens for now!

Read on Fanfiction or AO3

"Are you sure about all this, Poppy?" Smidge asked, for what had to be the thousandth time, big, deceptively soft-looking baby-blue eyes wide as they could go, apprehension and uncertainty plain on her little face. "Just think about what you're missing!" She swept a small hand through the air, fingers spread, and gestured loosely to the crowd of colorful trolls below, packed shoulder-to-shoulder, bodies swaying energetically to DJ's latest mix—which was amazing, by the way, as always, Poppy was going to absolutely shower the girl in hugs and compliments the minute the party wound down—

Oh. Right. Reassure Smidge. Gotta reassure Smidge. Focus, Poppy. This is too important for distractions.

She pulled her lips up in the brightest smile she could manage, and nodded enthusiastically. "I know, I know, it's all so super-amazing-tastic, I love it, but—but I—" if she let herself close her eyes she knew she'd see the lonely little figure in her mind, as dark and mysterious and unreachable as they always were, lingering nervously on the edge of the village with hungry, unseen eyes fixed on the dancing trolls below, watching and watching and watching and never joining—Poppy felt the grin on her face begin to falter. "—I can't," there was no way anyone but Smidge could hear her over the deafening pound of DJ's music, but she dropped her voice to a whisper anyway—no need to drag the whole party down with her, "I—I can't stand the thought that there's a troll out there somewhere who's not having fun like the rest of us. They deserve to be happy as much as we do, they deserve to be as happy as they've made us."

The words bolstered Poppy, even if they were her own—she even mustered the strength to hitch her smile back on her face. Somewhere out there, creeping unseen and unknown and, worst of all, unthanked, through the gloom of the village was a troll who cared, who cared so much they sacrificed their every Harvest Moon to bring the rest of the town a night full of wonder and laughter and love and happiness—somewhere out there was a troll who cared, who wanted with everything in them to make people happy, and Poppy would spend her whole life, if she had to, making sure they got some of that happiness back.

"But that's just it, Poppy," Smidge spread her hands out helplessly, "what if they're happy the way they are? And even if they aren't, it's not like we can do anything about it! We have no idea who they are!"

"I know," Poppy admitted—God, did she know. The music-playing, confetti-spraying thank-you cards obviously hadn't been special enough for the mystery gift-giver to reveal themselves—she'd even rigged up one to sing a song she'd written herself! Specifically for the Giver! Maybe the title had been too on the nose? "The Gratitude Song" didn't leave much room for imagination, she had to admit.

But the anonymous troll had even snubbed the parties! How many crazy-loud recognition parties had she promised to throw them if only they'd come forward?! Flashing lights! A minimum five pounds of glitter! Disco balls! A special thank-you mix from DJ Suki herself! What more could any troll in their right mind even want?!

Well—Poppy hastily fought off the giggle bubbling in the back of her throat—Branch probably would have snubbed the parties. Would have called them a "safety hazard", or something like that. He was really funny that way. Ooh, just wait 'til she got to tell Branch she'd found out who the Giver was! Of course, she still had to do the actual finding-out part, but when she did, ooh! She couldn't wait to rub his smirking face in it. He was so infuriatingly confident that no one would ever, ever know, and always asked annoyingly pointed questions that made her wonder—"If this 'Gifter' weirdo wants to remain anonymous, shouldn't you respect that?"—and shot her that snarky little half-smile at the end of it. Yeah, she was gonna have some serious fun with Branch, just as soon as she'd unmasked the Giver.

She threw her shoulders back and stood up a little straighter at the thought. If nothing else, she could at least have the satisfaction of giving Branch a big, fat I told you so.

"I'm gonna head out," she told Smidge, and bounced to the edge of the giant flat-topped orange mushroom. "See you later!" She threw herself straight down into the heart of the wildly-dancing crowd, laughing out loud into the breeze rushing past her face, and ripping all the breath from her lungs—countless pairs of gentle hands caught her, seized her by the arms or legs or dress, passing her smoothly from troll to troll—she surfed easily all the way to the back of the crowd, slid neatly from Moxie Dewdrop's arms, shot her a quick smile of thanks, and made her way out of the pod.

She didn't let her feet stop moving until she'd gotten a good way away from it all, pausing to adjust from the bright lights and blaring noise of the party to the sudden darkness and silence of the forest staring back at her—the air, when it hit her lungs, tasted uniquely of autumn, sweet and spicy and a touch smoky, too, like the amazing cider Biggie always made special for the Harvest Moon—ooh, she wanted another glass already—

No. No, this was too important to let herself get distracted. Eyes on the prize.

Right. The "prize" being the absolutely ginormous, record-breaking thank-you she'd finally finally finally get to give when she found out the mystery troll's true identity—ooh, she'd planned it all down to the last detail—the Giver would smile, of course they'd smile, who didn't smile when someone thanked them? Ooh, and she'd bet her flower crown that their smile would be the really nice kind that made their whole entire face light up like the sun and—!

There!

Poppy's heart nearly ripped itself out of her chest at the sight of the dark, hooded figure, smaller than even Smidge at this distance, darting nimbly from one pod to the next, enormous sack slung over one shoulder, cutting an awkward and lurching and hunchbacked figure in the ivory moonlight.

Oh, my God! It's happening!

Okay, okay, okay, stay calm, stay calm, she just needed to stay calm and catch up to them and convince them to tell her who they really were and then she could thank them and together, they could go back to the party and tell the village and everyone would swarm the Giver in hugs and thank-yous and the Giver would never ever have to be sad or alone on the Harvest Moon again, and everything would be all cupcakes and rainbows for everyone! Easy!

Focus. Poppy dragged in a breath, and shook out her hair to its fullest length—she wrapped the bubblegum-pink tips around the nearest tree limb, and swung herself up into the sky, swathed momentarily in a blanket of rich sapphire studded with a hundred thousand sparkling stars, landing lightly in the tree with the rough bark scratching painfully at the bottoms of her bare feet. She winced, and lifted her legs to rub at her stinging toes—no, no, no time for that! Poppy gave herself a shake. She had a Giver to thank!

For what felt like hours she flew, weightless, through the all-encompassing dark, with her heart in her mouth and the blood pounding in her ears—the wood sped by beneath her, moon-dusted, leafless trees gleaming faintly silver under the faint light—one branch, then another, then the next—nearly there now—nearly there—

There, that was it! That was the pod the Giver had disappeared into! Only just up ahead! Poppy shimmied across the last limb on her stomach and leapt, like a cat, through the open window—the impact jolted her a bit, reverberating up her legs—she wobbled lightly where she stood, and smothered a swear—Smidge could have pulled it off better—

Oh. Oh, God. Oh, God, the Giver was right there!

Ooh, she could scream—no, no, she couldn't scream, she couldn't! She didn't want to scare them! The Giver hadn't seen her yet—standing with their back to her, and hood pulled up to hide their hair—ugh, unfair, how was she supposed to try and guess who it was if she couldn't see their hair?

Nope, it'd just be more fun this way! She wanted to look the Giver in the eye when she finally unmasked them!

They'd ditched their sack right by the window—already half-empty? This troll worked fast. Respect!—and without the weight, their motions had become quicker, more fluid, actually kind of graceful—

—bet they're a good dancer, then—

The Giver knelt by the bed to put down the poorly-wrapped present in their hand, reached to reposition the bright yellow bow so it sprang up, arching cheerfully toward the pod's low ceiling, and took a little step back, as if to admire the effect—

A sudden, fierce swell of affection flooded up in Poppy's chest—if the gifts themselves weren't telling enough, the tender way this troll touched them certainly was—the half-second they took to spruce them up, make sure they looked their absolute best for their recipient—ooh, she just wanted to hug them! Right now!

No, no, not right now—plenty of time for hugging later—first she had to find out who they were—

Poppy couldn't keep from bouncing a little, up and down, on her toes, fluffy purple carpet muffling the sound. Finally finally finally! The moment was here! The moment had come! After years and years and years of getting the nicest, sweetest, most considerate and thoughtful gifts ever, and getting to see the rest of the village so happy, she finally got to say—

"Thank you!"

The Giver actually screamed out loud—Poppy really felt a bit bad about it, to be honest. They jumped a mile in the air—they'd even put on boots, she noted in the back of her mind when their feet left the floor—they must be seriously into this whole anonymity thing. She could only assume the dancer's elegance of only a minute ago had completely deserted them, because after a long minute of stumbling and tottering and flailing and just generally tripping all over themselves, they landed in a messy heap of dark cloth on the carpet.

Oops.

"I—I'm sorry!" Poppy barreled from her spot by the window and over to the crumpled form of the fallen Giver, hand rising on instinct to help them back to their feet. "Are you okay?"

"Amazing," The Giver grunted out, in a way that didn't sound like they meant it at all—which didn't make sense, why would anyone say something they didn't mean?

The Giver rolled over on the floor, rudely ignored her outstretched hand, and pushed themselves to their feet—no, his feet, she corrected herself, his feet—the thick hood of the black jacket and the dark glasses completely obscured their face, but what little she could see—broad nose, sharp jaw, hollow cheeks—what little she could see belonged to a man, that voice belonged to a man—no—no, not a man—a boy—definitely a boy, she decided, after a second glance, and a boy not much older than her—it took her a second to wrap her mind around the thought—she'd sort of imagined the Giver as an old man, to tell the truth, with grey-streaked hair and wrinkles, like her dad, but even in the shadows, she could see the dull skin was smooth—dull skin—the revelation jolted her—oh, no, oh, no, no, no! Oh, the poor troll, oh, no, his colors must be dimmed, oh, the poor thing—and his voice, it wasn't a voice she'd ever imagined for the Giver at all, even when she got past the way it had cracked right in the middle.

The Giver's voice was gentle, she'd decided, a long time ago, very gentle and soft and benevolent, like ocean waves lapping at the shore, the kind of voice that sounded nice all the time, the kind of voice that was just made for singing and telling stories and reciting poetry and lulling little children to sleep—the kind of voice that just made you want to keep listening—angelic, almost, she'd told herself, but this—this didn't sound like that sort of voice at all—no offense to the Giver, no, no, she didn't mean that in a bad way, just—well, it was all—rough and uneven and—

—and familiar—

The Giver tugged lightly at the edges of his hood and stepped past her, head down, face carefully averted—no, no, he was—he was leaving, no, he couldn't be leaving—

"Wait!" Poppy pushed her whirling thoughts to the back of her mind, and scrambled after him. "Wait, wait, wait!" She didn't really pause to think about the rest of it—she just sort of. Well. She threw herself at him, wrapped her arms as tight as she could around his black-clad legs, and hauled him back down to the floor. "I don't even know who you are!"

"Poppy—!"

Oh. Oh, God. Her name left his lips, and she froze. There was only one troll in the whole entire village who talked to her like that, with all that—that annoyance, and that exasperation, and that frustration, and—

The glasses slipped off the bridge of his wide nose, and he actually chose to press his face to the carpet before he'd let himself look at her, but—God, but it didn't matter anymore, did it, she didn't need to see his face, she knew, she knew and there was no going back—the dull skin, the dimmed colors, it should have been a giveaway, how had it not been a giveaway?!

The Giver was—the Giver—he—he was—

"Branch?!"

He stiffened and went still beneath her, gloved hands clenching up in fists against the vibrant violet floor. "I—" For half a second, it sounded like he was about to start yelling at her. "—I'm sorry, Princess," he said instead, in a very, very Not-Branch voice, "I think you must be hearing things, because I can assure you, I am not—"

"Branch," Poppy cut him off, and pushed herself up on her palms, swinging her legs over his sides to sit on him more comfortably, "give it up." In spite of the disbelief still roiling through her like a storm at sea, she felt a giggle bubbling up in the back of her throat at her choice of words. "Should be easy for you, huh?" She couldn't suppress the laugh anymore, and it erupted uncontrollably out of her, mirth merging with her shock to make the sound more than a little bit hysterical. "Guess you're pretty good at giving."

And Branch—Branch hissed at her! Actually hissed at her! Between his teeth! Like a snake! Ooh, she wished she could see his face! He always made the funniest faces when he was flustered. "Shut up."

"'Shut up'?" Poppy clamped her hand over her mouth, but the snort made its way out anyway. "A-and here I thought you had a—gift—for language!"

"Poppy, I swear to God—!"

Another loud shout of half-incredulity and half-amusement ripped its way out of her mouth, and she threw back her head—there was no way she could swallow it back anymore—her sides were already beginning to ache in protest, and she clutched weakly for her heaving ribs. Oh, God. Oh, God, Branch was the Giver. Did not see that coming. At all.

It was just—well, it was just—well, Branch didn't care. About anyone, or anything, except his bunker, but that—that didn't count, Poppy didn't count that, because the bunker wasn't real, it didn't have feelings, so it couldn't care about Branch back and—look. Look. The point. The point was this. Branch didn't care about things.

And that didn't mean he didn't have his good qualities, because he did! Sure, if it came down to it, he'd probably leave the village for dead, but he was funny, and he had lots of interesting things to say about the forest if she only waited him out or wore him down, and he was so fun to argue with, he always had a comeback for everything, and just because he didn't care about things didn't mean those weren't all good qualities, so there!

But—but if Branch was the Giver, then that would mean—

—that would mean—

"Branch," Poppy said, and the sound of her own voice in her ears startled her, far more than it should have, and she had to swallow and start again, "Branch, why are you doing all this?"

"God, Poppy," Branch's hands fisted against the floor again, and he shifted a little underneath her, "I don't have time for this. In case you haven't noticed, I'm kind of in a hurry."

"No, why?" Poppy finally had the Giver in her grasp, and she didn't care anymore that it was Branch, she didn't care that he was grumpy and snarky and hated her parties and didn't like glitter and wouldn't let her hug him at Hug-Time and didn't care, she finally had the Giver in her grasp, and she wasn't letting him go, not until he'd told her everything there was to tell. "I mean, if you want to give us presents, why don't you just—give us presents? Without all—this?"

"I don't," Branch growled, "want to give any of you anything."

"Or—or better yet," Poppy decided to ignore that last part—obviously a blatant lie, right? Right? "Better yet, why don't you just—I don't know, not act like you can't stand us? I-I mean, if you care, why don't you act like it?"

"Okay, fine," Branch pushed himself up on his palms, and twisted over onto his back to look at her—she slipped a little with the sudden movement, but grabbed at his shoulder and held on, "I guess I have to break it down for you, huh? Okay. Here we go. I hate every single goddamn one of you."

"But," Poppy knew well the signs of a full-on Branch bitch-rant, and she needed to head it off like, ten minutes ago. The guy could really just go for hours if you were dumb enough to let him get started. "But you don't. Because you're the Giver."

"Oh, my God, Poppy!" He lifted an arm, and shoved her to the floor in one swift motion. "Okay, fine! I admit it! I'm the Giver! Now let me go! I still have about seven dozen of these left to deliver, the party could end any minute, I really don't have time for—!"

"The party!" Oh! Oh, God! Ooh, this was going to be even more fun than chasing the Giver! "Oh, my gosh, Branch, the party! Come on, come on, come on!" She jumped to her feet, and yanked on his arm. "Come on! Up! We gotta get back before it ends!"

"Um." Branch flicked at her knuckles until she let go. "Right. Yeah. Have fun with that." He got to his feet, and dusted off the front of his dark jacket.

"What? No, no, no," Poppy giggled—right, right, her bad! She kind of hadn't really explained that too well, had she? Oh. Well. Fixing! "We gotta tell the village, my man!"

"What?!" Branch tried to spin around to face her, but he really just did that thing again where he tripped all over himself and flailed. "No! No no no no no no no! No!" He clumsily regained his balance, and shook his head wildly back and forth, so hard he looked like he was gonna give himself whiplash.

"Yes!" Poppy countered, and nodded vigorously to prove her point. "Just wait until they hear about you, Branch! Oh, buddy, they're gonna love you!"

"If I did everything so the village would love me, I'd never have done a useful thing in my entire life."

"I didn't hear that!" Poppy clapped her hands over her ears. "Come on!" She motioned, with her elbow, to the open window. "What are you waiting for? Let's go!"

"No," Branch repeated, so firmly she could read the word as it formed on his lips. "The village is never going to know."

"But—" Poppy deflated a little. Her hands slipped off her ears. But didn't he—didn't he want—? "But Branch, how are they supposed to thank you if they don't know it's you?"

"I—I don't—" the pale purple flush crawling up Branch's cheeks glowed like a beacon in the dim light of the empty pod, "—I don't want—" He dragged in a breath, and it sounded painful, like it snagged somewhere in the back of his throat and for half a second, Poppy thought he was going to say—something, she didn't—she didn't know what, but something important, something that mattered, something that meant something and she knew if he did, all the barriers behind his eyes would finally fall and she'd see—

His hands clenched back up in fists. "I don't need," he lifted his head, and stuck out his chin, "I don't need your stupid gratitude."

Branch turned sharply on his heel, and stomped over to the dark, half-empty sack still waiting for him by the window. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I—"

"Wait!" Poppy edged forward as far as she dared, as far as she thought he'd let her get before he stepped back. "Wait! Let me help!"

Branch dropped the sack again. "What?"

"You said it yourself! The party could end any minute!" Poppy jerked her thumb in the direction of the glowing pod, even though she knew it couldn't be seen from here. "If we split the gifts between us, we can get done with the delivery way before anyone comes home!"

Branch snorted. "Right. Yeah. Like I'm gonna do that." He swung the sack back on his shoulder.

Stubborn ass. Poppy was seriously about to stamp her foot. "Why not?! No, don't answer that," she added, when he opened his mouth, because that snarky half-smile was already curling up his lip, and she really just could not deal with one of his smart remarks right about now, "don't. This is, like, super important to the village! It makes 'em all really happy, Branch! I wanna help with that! Let me help with that!"

And—oh, God, here was officially the craziest part of the entire night—Branch looked at her. Just—just looked at her. It wasn't a glare, it wasn't a scowl, it wasn't even one of those tired, dead-eyed glances. It wasn't even a smirk, like when he'd just got in a really good jab at her, and had to show off how insufferably cocky he could be. He didn't do any of that. He just looked at her. Like—oh, God, like he was seriously considering—

"No."

What?!

Okay. Fine. That was fine! Time to bring out the big guns, Poppy supposed. All was fair in love and war, and all of that. Hmm. No. Gifts and war? Giftery and war? Giftery. Was giftery a word? It should be.

Oops. Sidetracked. She shook her head, and lifted her chin.

"If you don't let me help," she jammed her hands on her hips, and tried to look as intimidating as possible, "I guess I'll just—" she lifted one shoulder, and dropped it an instant later in a half-shrug, "—have to tell the village."

Every last ounce of color drained from Branch's face.

"Mm. Well." She headed for the window straight past him, and smothered a smile when he reflexively stumbled out of her way. Ha! She never made him step aside! She should try this intimidation thing more often. It was fun. "Nice talkin' to you! See ya, Branch!" She stepped to the edge of the window, and shook out her hair for good measure. "Ooh," she added, on impulse, "I'll have to help the kids with their thank-you cards tomorrow, that'll be super-fun!" Okay, now she got why Branch smirked all the time when he said something snarky! Ooh, this was so fun! Why had no one ever told her it was this fun to mess with him?

"W-wait!" Right on cue. Branch bolted toward her, stumbling over the clunky, awkward boots, and threw out a frantic hand. His fingers, warm even through the thick gloves, latched onto her wrist.

Poppy arched her eyebrows. Ooh, she was not gonna make this easy on him! Not in the slightest. "Yes?"

"You—you—" He looked anywhere but at her, purple flush returning to his face with a vengeance, "—you can help, okay? Th-there. I said it. Happy?"

"Yes!" Poppy bounced backward into the pod. "Oh, my gosh, this is gonna be so so so so much fun—!"

"Ground rules," Branch said coolly, and jabbed a finger at her, "no singing. No dancing. No running off and telling the village anyway."

"Branch, do you really think I'd break my word?"

"Yes. Without hesitation." He opened up the sack, pulled out a few brightly-colored boxes, and thrust them at her. "Now let's get this over with."

#trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls fanfiction #emrys' spellbook

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ievenranthisfar · 5 years ago

Text

72 Needles In Millions of Haystacks // My First 24-Hour Orienteering Race

It’s somewhere around 3:00 in the morning. I’ve been up somewhere around 24 hours. And I’m… somewhere. I just don’t know where.

My partner Sean and I have just descended hundreds feet down a sheer rock face that’s dumped us into a pitch-black forest. Above us, a canopy of ancient pines blocks out the full moon. Below, the trunks of their fallen compatriots and an army of younger ones eager to take their place make our travel directionless and nearly impossible. And amid all this, we’re looking for a small, orange and white triangular flag with nothing more than a dot on the map, a compass, and the vague clue that it was located at a “reentrant.”

Suddenly, there at the bottom of that cliff, swallowed up by the forest, I felt very, very small. And very, very far away from anything. Forget finding the control, I think to myself. What if we can’t ever find our way out of this canyon?

Are we going to die down here?

A Little Compass Context

This was my first ever 24-hour rogaine orienteering race. I’d been introduced to orienteering a year and a half ago when my good running buddy Guillaume Calmettes invited me to a local event. He was using to sharpen his navigational skill in prep for his first run at the infamous Barkley Marathons. And he convinced me it was super fun and easy to pick up. He was correct.

In orienteering there are two basic formats. This first one I did was Classic, meaning you get handed a map of the area you’re in with little numbered dots on it. Then, you have to use your compass to find your way as you run from control to control in a pre-determined order as fast as possible. Beginner’s luck. I got second place. Guillaume got first.

The next event we went to the following month, I won.

Our compass skills were admittedly only okay. (Actually, Guillaume’s were fine. Mine, less so.) But having experience and fitness as a runner, helped us immensely. Still, we made plenty of mistakes. This year, I made some huge errors in races. It’s really humbling when it takes you 3:34 to finish a course, and the winner did it in 0:57. The beginner’s luck had run out.

Most orienteering events are relatively short, usually one or two hours long. But it’s incredibly intense. When you’re trying to find 15 different controls as fast as you can, you have your head buried in your map as you’re sprinting through parks, up and down hillsides and rooting through streams to find your controls.

Then Guillaume told me about rogaining. It’s the same thing, except it lasts for 24 hours. 🤯 I’ve run plenty of ultras that last longer than 24 hours, and I’ve done some orienteering races for a few hours, but I didn’t know you could combine the two. It sounded bonkers.

(For the record, the name rogaine comes from a portmanteau of the sport’s founding members’ names. It has zero to do with a fix for male pattern baldness.)

Guillaume and I talked wistfully about one day competing in the World Championship. Then, two months ago, I got a text. The North American Championship was taking place at the Nav-X Challenge in a month, in the Sierra National Forest. The top two teams would go to World. So we signed up.

Lake Shaver, near the course

A few days later, Sean Ranney reached out to Guillaume to see if he could join the fun. If you don’t know who Sean is, he’s an incredibly accomplished runner who holds the Tahoe Rim Trail unsupported FKT. He’s also the creator of a Barkley-style race called Euchre Bar Massacre every October. He’s legit.

Then, with just two weeks to go before Nav-X, Guillaume ran into some problems with his visa and had to return to France the day of the race. Sean and I were incredibly bummed to lose G, but we decided to go on and do the race. “Do it for Guillaume!” we said. “Or to rub it in his face!” We hadn’t decided which.

___

What To Expect When You’re Expecting

So, this is how I find myself waking up in a tent in the middle of the Sierra, waiting to be handed a map that would send me out into the forest on a very wild goose chase.

Camp/a Jeep commercial

Sunset the night before

Full moon over camp

Waiting for Sean to show...

Nine o’clock rolls around. Time to receive our maps. Sean is nowhere to be seen. Nine-thirty. Ten. I look around as other teams scurry to plot their movements and prep their gear for the next 24 hours. Time is running out. Instead of feeling stressed, I’m a little relieved. Maybe I won’t have to do this after all…

Ten-thirty. Sean’s red truck rolls into the dusty campground. I guess we’re doing this.

In a supremely ironic twist of fate, Sean had gotten lost for hours while driving to the starting area. This does not bode well for our future prospects. We exchange quick pleasantries and immediately get down to the business of plotting our moves. The High Sierra sun already beats down on us as we squat over a stump, with our highlighters and sharpies clenched in our hands. It feels oppressive already.

The second type of orienteering is called Score-O. All rogaine races are Score-O. The premise is that there are flagged controls laid out across the course, each assigned a point value based on difficulty to travel to it or find. Rather than racing for the fastest time, everyone has the same amount of time to nab as many controls/points as they can. If you’re skilled enough to get every single control, you’ve “cleared.” It’s a game of strategy. Do you go after more of the easy controls that are closer to the start but are lower value? Or do you try to go out farther and burn time to get higher-value controls further afield?

Looking at our map, we have 72 controls. The possibilities are pretty much endless as to how we can design our run. Hell, the map itself is huge. It’s over two feet tall. I’m just wondering how I’m going to carry this thing in front of me for 24 hours.

Being novices to this whole thing, Sean and I both frantically googled rogaine strategies in the week leading up to the race. Interestingly, it involves office supplies. So on drive way up the previous day, I had found myself in a Staples somewhere in the Valley buying various brightly color writing utensils.

First, we highlight all the high-value controls on the map in yellow. The locations of water drops we highlight in pink. It quickly becomes apparently that the northeast corner of the map has the highest concentration of 60, 70, 80, and 90-point controls, but they’re spread further apart, and the terrain seems to be more forested, meaning navigation and travel will be more difficult. Also, there’s more water. The southern portion of the course has the next highest concentration of points. It seems to be more exposed rock which will be faster nav and travel. No water to speak of though. The northwest sector is denser in the number of controls but they’re lower value.

The correct plan seems fairly obvious (I think). We decide we’ll make a big loop of the northwestern segment first while we’re fresh, it’s hot, and we still have sunlight. Then, we’ll loop back to the hash house (the start/finish area), resupply and head out on our second loop. This loop will take us to the south overnight, where it should theoretically be easiest to navigate and we won’t need much water. Then, we’ll head back to the hash house for another resupply and go out on our third loop to pick off as many easier, lower-point controls as we can before noon tomorrow.

(One thing to factor into strategy is the penalty for finishing late. In this case, we’d lose 10 points for every minute past 24 hours that we’re out of the course. So you also want to plan the end of your race to have points where you can call audibles towards the end.)

Marking up the map

With our basic game plan laid out, we quickly start penciling in lines of travel from control to control. Again, more strategy. This time we’re trying to make each move the shortest possible while also hitting every control and simultaneously avoiding any overly difficult moves due to a giant mountain between them, dense forest, whatever.

We check our watches. It’s just a few minutes before the noon start. We quickly draw over our lines in sharpie, shrugging to each other occasionally. “I guess this seems good, right?” “Yeah. It all feels easy right now at least.”

Slipshod plan formatted, we hurriedly stuff all our gear, clothes and food into our packs. Because, oh yeah, since you’re going to be out in the wilderness on your own pretty much the whole race, you need to carry everything with you too.

Ready to roll

Still cramming stuff in our vests, we amble up to the starting area. We are, as usual, the outliers. Like any sport, orienteering has its own mores, particularly when it comes to fashion. Pants to protect the legs while crashing through underbrush. Long-sleeved shirts to deal with fluctuating temperatures. Protective hats to block hours of sun exposure. Calf-high gaiters to keep shoes free from any debris. Big packs to carry a day’s worth of supplies. Hiking-style shoes to cover the harsh terrain. We have none of this.

No, Sean and I stand there in our bright, little running shorts. Thin, polyester shirts. Tiny packs. We have so much skin exposed, I’m sure the other races are wondering if we’ll die of exposure or blood loss first.

It’s also worth noting that Sean and I are on the young end of the age spectrum. By a lot. Looking around, the average age seems to be hovering around 55. Orienteering, for whatever reason, tends to attract a much older crowd. I suppose it’s because it’s a thinkers’ sport. As I’ve learned time and time again, a great navigator who can move slowly but efficiently can crush a fast runner who’s shitty at navigation. Skill and experience levels the playing field immensely.

It’s 11:59. Our big adventure begins soon. The race directors herd us into the starting corral and offer a few final tidbits of intel and advice. And then, it’s, “OK… go!”

“Here goes nothing…” I mutter to Sean.

___

Noob Troop Loop

Orienteering starts are funny. Because each team has chosen a different one of the millions of possible permutations of routes, everyone scatters off in totally different directions immediately.

Sean and I bound out of the campground and down the main dirt road to the first bend, where we stop and consult our maps. We line up our compasses and shoot a bearing to the east-southeast, where our first control, 307, will supposedly be. Flipping over the map, I read the description of 307 off the chart. It simply says, “Broad saddle.” We peel off and quickly find ourselves climbing up a steep hill, dodging underbrush as best as we can. Soon enough, we top out. The saddle. But where is the control? We run a few hundred feet to the right, nothing. So we backtrack and try the left. Soon, “There it is!” We see the orange and white dangling from a tree branch. We quickly insert our e-sticks (basically USB sticks attached to our hands) to record our presence and then immediately consult the map again.

Moving from the hash house (pink) to 307 to 405

Control 405. To the east-northeast, maybe half a mile away. Rather than shoot straight there, we see that there’s a road between it and us. The road connects to another road that travels within about a tenth of a mile to it. And near there, there’s a junction with a trail. So, we can travel expeditiously via road, then shoot our bearing off the trail junction so we know exactly where we are and the exact angle we have to travel to reach 405, labeled “Marsh, S end.” Or at least that’s the idea.

We make our way to the road, turn on the second road, and fairly quickly find the junction. From there, we shoot the bearing and sprint off, back into the woods. Soon enough, we find a marsh and start scanning the area. Nothing. We move along the edge, trying to stay on the south side. But as the control continues to remain elusive, we begin just running around aimlessly hoping to bump into it. Ten minutes go by. “Where the hell is this thing?” “We’re definitely at the south end of the marsh… right?”

Finally, I pull my head out of the moment. “Stop. Let’s look at the map.” That’s when I notice that the marsh isn’t just one big strip; it has a bend into it, breaking the marsh into two distinct sections. “What if we’re in this part of the marsh, not over here?” Lightbulb. We’d overshot the bearing just enough that we’d landed ourselves in the smaller, adjacent part of the marsh. We turn 180 degrees and crashed through more underbrush until, there it was. The other part of the marsh. We sprint down its south face, and sure enough, the control comes into view. Ah, I’m starting to see how this is going to go…

We dip our e-sticks and I look down at my watch. 12:40. Two controls in 40 minutes. “Spot on pace!” I announce naively but also fully aware that it’s it’s naive. With 72 controls, to clear the course, we’ll need to find a control every 20 minutes for 24 hours straight. Two things: 1) That is an insane pace, and 2) it means we can make zero mistakes, like, ever.

So, time to get going. We consult the map again. Our next objective is 706, labeled “Reentrant.” We check our compasses and take off.

For the next hour or so, we’re cranking along nicely. Our control-every-20-minutes pace holds up. At 300 (“Broad terrace, N end”), I pull my head out of the map for a moment. It’s been two hours since we’ve started. “Holy shit. I feel like I’ve been out here with you all day,” I tell Sean.

There is no down-time in orienteering. No time to turn your brain off. No time even to eat or drink really. Your head’s always buried in your map, staring off the end of your compass, or scanning your surroundings, hoping to catch a glimmer of orange out of the corner of your eye. And as soon as you do and you’ve tag the control, your heads right back at it again. Oh, and you’re also running or hiking fully cross-country, hopping over logs, running down bare rock faces, hopping over talus fields, or breaking through underbrush, trying not to fall on your face.

Remember that thing you tried to do when you were little where you’d try to pat your head and rub your belly. It’s sort of like that except you’re also juggling a soccer ball, reciting pi to the 100th decimal, cooking an omelet, and doing your taxes.

___

Needle In A Haystack

The afternoon goes off relatively without much of a hitch. We trudge up hillsides, take shortcuts on logging roads that are nowhere to be seen on the map, skip across waterlogged marshes, cross long talus fields, and refill our bottles in cold, mountain-fed streams. Most importantly, we’re picking off controls here and there with only occasional difficulty. I actually can’t believe how well we’re moving. Honestly, I came into the race feeling only OK about my compass skills. But with the repetition of doing it over and over and over, hour after hour after hour, I’m starting feel cautiously confident.

Additionally, Sean and I have a very complementary partnership emerging. Ying and yang. He seems to be better with the compass and traveling over large distances to the general area of a control. Once there, I tend to be better at reading the immediate terrain and spotting the controls at a distance. (“LASIK!” I tell him. “The best money I’ve ever spent!”) And when one of us falters in his unspoken area of expertise, the other picks up the slack and the roles reverse. I’m really liking our chances.

Our entire northern loop

Eventually, we reach the very far northwestern corner of the map. 830, “Bare rock, W foot.” We sight ourselves off a massive wall of bare rock rising almost a thousand feet to our right. We’re almost surrounded by it in fact. I suddenly start to feel a quiet terror. It’s a cross between claustrophobia and helplessness. I realize just how far away we are from everyone and everything. Civilization. Safety. And any sense of origin. It’s like riding in an airplane and suddenly thinking about the fact that you’re 30,000 feet above the Earth in a metal tube. We round a giant grouping of boulders and thankfully spot the control. Mercifully, the feeling washes away in our excitement.

We make a few more moves. We shoot a bearing from 631 (“Stream”) to 821 (“Marsh, partially treed, SW part”). The move feels fairly complicated on the map. In practice, it’s even worse. But after 25 minutes or so, we find ourselves in the general area where we think we’re supposed to be. Except, we have no idea where we actually are. Or where the marsh is. Instead, we’re on a steep, loose hillside, chockful of deadfall and chaparral. This looks nothing like a marsh. This looks like the opposite of a marsh. Sean, sure he knows where we are, shoots off up the hillside. I follow him but only half-heartedly, feeling like he’s going the wrong way. My head starts to spin. The airplane feeling comes on again.

Five minutes later. “Stop! Let’s look at the map and see where we think we are,” I implore. “I think we’re here,” Sean points with the corner of his compass. I’m not sure how he arrived at that conclusion. But, scanning the dense canopy of trees enveloping us, I have no better counter. “I think we need to go back up here,” he points. I’m at a loss so I shrug and say sure.

We fumble around for another 15-20 minutes. Then I hear Sean shout, “Found the marsh!” “You glorious son of a bitch!” I exclaim and sprint towards the sound of his voice. Sure enough, he’s located a marsh perched on a shelf on the hillside. In my excitement, I try to hop over a huge trunk, but my shoe catches a piece of bark and I ragdoll. Flipping forward, I slam into the marsh, bent at a 90-degree angle the wrong way. “Shit! Shitshitshitshitshiiiit.” I follow up with, “I’m OK!” I look down at my knee, and it’s bright red. Blood oozes down, soaking my sock below. I pop up, more embarrassed than hurt. “You alright, man?” Sean asks. I look down at my leg, wet with blood. “Yeah, the flies are just going to have a little feast,” I grin.

After all this, we can’t even find the control. We flail a bit more until we realize there are in fact several marshes on this hillside. None seem to actually be on the map. We make our way from one to another, until we finally find our “treed marsh” and the control. Finally.

After spending the last four hours totally off-trail in the middle of the wilderness, our next line of travel bisects a trail and then turns into a logging road. We make it there, and it feels surprisingly wonderful to be swaddled in civilization again. And good thing too, because night is falling fast.

We have a half dozen more controls to get us back to the hash house, but most all are near roads or trails so we cruise through them without incident. The only snafu comes on the very final control, a quarter mile from the campground. 201 (“Stream junction”). At 20 points, it should be uber easy. But somehow we find ourselves going up and down a dry stream bed, back and forth, looking for a non-existent control. Something is clearly wrong, but we can’t work it out. We both get frustrated. I rise the idea of just cutting bait—it’s only 20 points after all—and heading home. But Sean’s stubbornness is quickly joined by my own, and we refuse to give up. I know this is a poor use of our time, but I know how angry I’ll be with myself tomorrow if we don’t get every control we try for. The moment of frustration forces us to pause and regroup. Sean looks at the map and, in his amazing wisdom that I still don’t understand, decides that we must be in the wrong stream. Looking at the map, I’m not sure that we could be in any other stream. But absent a better idea, I go with it. Five minutes later and back on the road, we spot our correct stream. We instantly feel foolish. Five minutes more of fighting vegetation along the stream bed and we find the control. A short jog later and we’re back at the hash house.

It feels good to be back amongst people and lights and manmade objects. The timing tent is playing some Zeppelin, and the RD offers me soup. I greedily accept. I see a full bottle of Mrs. Butterworth syrup sitting on a table and say, “Oh. Are you guys making pancakes later?” The RD stares at me and just says, “No.” “Uh… OK.”

It’s 9:30. We tell the few people lounging around where we’ve been, and they seem impressed. It feels good; we must be doing something right. We’re a third of our way through the course, which is great. But it also means clearing the course is out of the question. No mind.

I jog back to my Jeep, grab a fresh battery pack for my headlight and shove more gels, turkey sandwiches and formerly-frozen burritos into my pack. Ready to roll. We know night will be trying, but we just don’t know how much.

___

Descent Into Darkness

Time to begin our southern loop. Drier, opener, faster (supposedly). We pop out on the road and look for the second path junction to the left. According to the map, it should come very quickly. But it doesn’t. Or it does. We can’t tell. There are so many Jeep trails and turn-offs, it’s hard for us to know which is the correct one. We choose one that seems right. But the trail isn’t bearing in the direction it is on the map. Still we follow it. Dumb. We’re going uphill now. This seems very wrong. It’s supposed to be flat. Still we follow it. Finally we both agree it’s wrong. Duh. We head back down to the road. For some reason we think the trail must be farther away from camp so we head out. We take other side trails momentarily before deciding they’re wrong. We probably run at least a mile from camp. At some point, a pickup comes rumbling down the dirt road keeping up dust in our headlamps. “Oh hey guys! Is that Andy and Sean?” Through the floating dust and the stupor in my head, I can’t really make out who it is. After a few moments, I dawns on me that it’s one of the RDs. Sean explains to him what we are—or aren’t—doing. “These roads are all fucked up, man. Just get to a control and shoot straight lines from there,” he offers as advice. As the pickup chugs off, I say to Sean, “Well no shit. That’s what we’re trying to do.” But he’s right. The area is so heavily used we can’t trust the map or anything we see. So what do we do?

We fumble around for another 20 minutes or so before we finally identify a set of cliffs off to our right. On the map, we see a symbol for cliffs. We’ve finally located ourselves. PHEW. And we’re right by a control. We shoot a bearing and head off towards 202 (“Marsh, just N of N tip”). And we find it! We curse, we laugh, we howl. But we’ve found it. And we burned 70 minutes doing it. For 20 points. Just a quarter mile from the starting line. Woof.

With a new understanding of where we are, we shoot a bearing and head off into the wilderness once more.

Earlier that afternoon I had said, “How the hell are we supposed to do this in the dark?” Now that it was dark… yeah. “Flying blind” does not begin to accurately describe what we’re doing. We just take a bearing, point ourselves in a direction and pray that we end up there. And our “easier, rockier” loop is nowhere to be seen. It’s all dense forests with zero visibility. (Fun fact! Almost all 24-hour rogaines are held as close to full moons as possible!) The one advantage the night provides is that the controls have pieces of reflective tape on them. So, if you’re scanning your surroundings, your headlight might at least catch a glimmer coming off the tape. This proved appreciably helpful in spotting controls at a great distance, ones that we probably wouldn’t have caught in daylight.

But still, it’s just really fucking hard.

After we grab a few controls, we head towards a big section of cliffs. It looks cool on the map. It looks cooler in person. We claw our way up a sheer rock face onto what turns out to be a massive, smooth granite ridge, rising hundreds of feet above the surrounding valley. We find 902 (“Spur/bare rock, access from N or S”) rather easily. There’s nothing else up there besides the control attached to a lone tree clinging stubbornly to the rock. We register our e-sticks and then sit down for a minute.

“Wow. It’s really beautiful out here.” In the full moon, we can finally see the world around us. It’s a symphony of rock and wood and water lit by the pale glow of a giant rock floating in the sky reflecting sunlight from millions of miles away. For a minute, inside all the madness, the world is perfect.

“Dude. I’m going to eat my fucking burrito,” I exclaim. I throw my pack off and dig in, finding the now-nearly-warm bean and cheese burrito that had been sitting in the bottom for 12 hours now. I bite into it and immediately start moaning. “I can feel the endorphins firing in my brain,” I gush to Sean. He laughs politely. I’m in heaven.

A few minutes later, we say goodbye to the view, take our bearings and head down off the cliffs. Rather than change back to forest, the ground beneath our feet stays sandy and open. “Finally!” I shout. “The rocky loop we were promised.” Feeling in high spirits, we cruise downhill towards 506 (“Reetrant”). At only 50 points, this one should be no problem… Right?

Forty-five minutes later, Sean and I are just flabbergasted. I’ve run out of curse words. I’m empty. I’m fully defeated. We’ve run up and down this damn stream so long looking for a junction to shoot a bearing from that I don’t even know what my name is anymore. We’re flailing. Several times, I fully lose the thread. I look down at my map, and it’s gibberish. I forget which control we’re looking for. I start trying telling Sean he’s wrong, as I’m looking at a totally different part of the map. I don’t know what we’re doing anymore.

We sweep the forest back and forth, a few dozen feet from the stream and a few dozen feet apart from each other, hoping to catch the glint of reflective tape in our headlamps. But the battery on my light is dying and has automatically dimmed itself. Even if the control is out here, I probably won’t see it. If was more coherent I’d be upset. Instead I’m just apathetic.

Somehow, we decide to sweep in the opposite direction, way downstream, which feel very wrong to us, but at this point, it’s the only thing we haven’t done. Running—mostly out of desperation—we drop into a deep forest and begin thrashing around in the undergrowth when suddenly, “Holy shit! I’ve got it!” We find it. I have no idea how that control relates to what we were looking for, but I don’t care. Desperation gives way to a rush of relief.

Here’s what it looked like on Strava. Woof.

Later, as we’re following our next bearing, Sean and I both admit to each other that we thought about suggesting we just bail on the control. But then we both realized we couldn’t.

And here’s the true challenge of rogaine. Ninety percent of the time you can’t just skip a control that’s hard to find. Because if you don’t know where the control is, then you don’t know here you are either. And if you don’t know where you are, you don’t where we’re you’re going next. So, you’re forced to find the control, even if it feels impossible, because it’s your own way out alive.

The rest of the night continues on, eventfully and uneventfully. Ironically, we seem to have the most difficulty finding the lowest-point controls while the high-value controls are relatively easy to locate. We joke about it. It’s funny. I think.

Features like “clearing” and “reentrant” continue to be the bane of my existence. What constitutes one clearing over another clearing? What the actual fuck is a reentrant anyway?

We flail in the dark some more.

We drop down a rock face to a deep dark forest where I think we’re going to die. Somehow, by sheer miracle, I get the sense that the control is much farther north than we think it is, and we sweep the edge of the forest. Four minutes later, I catch the gleam of reflective tape in my headlamp.

Another time, Sean and I are a bajillion miles away from anywhere we think we know. We’ve been running across a series of gullies towards 907 (another fucking “reentrant”). We’ve run ourselves down deep into the folds of a hillside. We’re surrounded by rocks and more rocks. We have no idea where in the world we possibly are. And then all of a sudden Sean shouts, “I see it!” There it is, two hundred feet above us. Another miracle.

The night goes on, until dawn slowly yawns on the horizon. I realize I feel better than I’ve ever felt in ant 100-miler at this point. We’ve covering a lot of ground, and it’s more full-body, but I’m not gutting myself to do it. And the necessity of focus actually makes me feel sharp. Then I realize I’ve only eaten a few hundred calories all night. I check my water bottles. Oh yeah. I’ve only drank about 20 oz of water in the last 12 hours too.

No mind. The sun comes up and navigation becomes easier again. Weirdly, I miss the reflective tape. You can’t have it all.

The next control is 623. I read the description: “Pool at base of 8m water (no access from NW).” “Oooh! That sounds delightful,” I say. We find it. It is delightful. Just as the sun has risen, we find ourselves in the midst of a smooth, rocky gully with a gently roaring waterfall surrounded by glimmering pools of cool water. “I’m really glad we did this one,” I say out loud, instantly feeling like we’re an old, married couple.

Five minutes later, I’m blowing my ass out behind a bush.

Three controls away from finishing our second loop, we hit another snafu. We burn what feels like an hour wandering aimlessly through the forest. It’s 503 (another fucking “reentrant”). It should be easy. It’s not. I shout at Sean to stop and let’s think this thing out. We orient ourselves off a giant wall to the north of us and try to think our way out of this thing. Ten minutes later, I start shouting “Hallelujah!” as the world around us is finally matching up with the world on our maps. We split up and two minutes later I shout, “Holy shit I found it!” Seriously, what is a reentrant anyway??

An hour later, we’re back at the hash house. It’s around 9:00 in the morning. The first loop took us 9.5 hours. The second one took 11.5. Clearing the map is waaaay out of the question. But as we’re milling around the food tent, we still feel plenty good. Sean and I both make a beeline for the industrial-sized can of cocktail fruit and spoon the syrup and processed pineapple into our cups and guzzle it whole. It’s heavenly.

Also, fruitcake FTW.

___

Victory Lap?

We’re closing in on two hours left. It’s getting hot again. I know Sean wants to quit. He knows I want to quit. I know he knows that I want to quit. He knows that I know that he wants to quit. But instead, we make plans to head out on our final, truncated loop. We’ll pick off a few controls that are nearby with enough time to return before noon. (Good rogaine strategy! I feel proud.)

Sean looks a little rough. I didn’t eat many calories overnight, but he ran out. Nonetheless, all night, he’d pushed the pace on hills, leaving me in the dust. I’ve been perkier on the roads and had to pull him a bit. Basically, we’re both beat. We don’t want to admit it to the other person. It’s funny that we only met about 24 hours ago.

“We leave by 22,” we agree. Translation: 10:00am. We’ll have two hours to complete our mini-loop of four controls. It’ll only be 130 points total, but it’s more to prove to ourselves that we refuse to quit. At 10:00am precisely, we meet by the port-a-potties.

In my mind, this mini-loop is a victory lap. We find the first control with ease. The second with ease. The third with ease. The fourth one pretends to be difficult but soon we wrangle it in. With most of the course under our belts and 45 minutes left, we head back home.

At the hash house, we jam our e-sticks in the control labeled “FINISH” and give each other a series of handshakes, fist-bumps and hugs. We did it.

___

“That’s A Good Thing”

When we put our e-sticks into the download terminal—basically the thing that receives all those timestamps when we punched the different controls—the printer immediately spit out a long receipt-looking thing. “Wow. That’s long. That’s a good thing,” says the volunteer working the computer.

I look at my receipt. It says we have 2,900 points. I look over at the timekeeper’s screen, and the top number of points I see from other teams is 2,630. Whoa. We might have won.

We did all that. Sheesh.

There’s still twenty minutes left—it’s 11:40am—so there’s a good chance another team could still come in and kick our asses.

Fifty minutes later we’re standing at the awards ceremony. I’m cracked out my mind. I’m dirty. Sticky. Tired. Blood-shot-eyes-y. But eventually the RD announces, “Male team, open… with 2,900 points… wow, that’s almost the whole map… Pacific Mountain Runners, Andy Pearson and Sean Ranney!”

Beginner’s luck again. We’re the North American Champions.

The best part about orienteering is how quaint it is. (And I don’t use that word pejoratively.) This award ceremony is only a few dozen people huddled around an awning trying to stay out of the sun. The awards come in dozens of flavors, across every possible permutation of age and gender divisions imaginable. And the awards themselves? A certificate declaring “2019 North American Rogaine Champion” with the name section blank—RD: “You can write your own name in” —and your choice from a variety of chocolates. As far as I can tell chocolate is the belt buckle of orienteering. The adventure has been so epic, and the reward so unassuming, it feels perfect.

What winning feels like.

What winning tastes like.

___

The Venn Diagram

Reflecting back, I’m both proud of and humbled by what we did. The experience taught me more in 24 hours than I think I’ve ever learned. From geology to map-reading to problem-solving to ultrarunning to 500 other things, orienteering requires everything from you. But it’s a constant education too.

I love ultrarunning deeply. It speaks to a deep physical and spiritual part of human existence. But orienteering adds the mental aspect as well. You have to always be on.

We ended up moving more than 60 miles in 24 hours, with probably 90-95% of that being off-trail. (Full Strava details here.) During the race, I joked with Sean that the Venn diagram of people who would actually do this is so incredibly small. You have to possess the ability to run/hike at ultramarathon distances while also calling on a deep reservoir of navigational and outdoor experience. (Or in my case, just faking it.)

___

Not The End

If any of this sounds at least mildly interesting to you, I’d encourage you to look up orienteering clubs in your city. Almost all cities have one. In LA, ours is the LAOC. They have monthly events that are usually just an hour or two in length, and they’re a great way to try your hand at it. (Also, a fun family activity for kids!) Learning these kinds of map and compass skill is deeply rewarding and can add all kinds of new dimensions to your appreciation of the outdoors.

Basically, try it! And if you have questions or want some tips, let me know. I’m happy to help.

In the end, more than being proud of what we did, I’m proud of what we learned. And I can’t wait to hack our way through the Rogaine World Championship in Lake Tahoe next August. I just hope there won’t be any fucking reentrants.

#ultrarunning #orienteering #rogaine #compass

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aidulcex · 6 years ago

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Whitebeard Headcanons:

I’m in the writing (and procrastinating) mood right now so I just decided to post some of these headcanons that have been festering in my mind. There’s more underneath the keep reading one. If anyone wants me to write them some, don’t be afraid to send me a message or something.

1. When Aiyanna first joined the crew, several of the others were not sure about having a woman on the crew (since she probably joined the crew before Pomona or Rosa).

2. Because of her unfamiliarity with human styles and “fashion”, Izo basically had to sit her down and teach her all the basics (ie. “you can’t just walk around here wearing a bathing suit, you’ll kill these men”!). So Aiyanna wears things like pink crop tops and short skirts, or one piece undergarments with a maxi skirt. She tries to remember to be more “modest” but it’s still a weird concept for her.

3. Aiyanna is not just the records keeper of the whitebeard pirates, but also works as a shipwright specializing in lumber production for ships. With her devil fruit powers she can easily make Adam’s wood or specially modified wood for ships or other projects. So when she is not working on keeping up with documents, Aiyanna is often working with the other shipwrights to figure out what needs to be made.

4. When Aiyanna joined the crew, although she was happy and vibrant in her jobs and while talking to people, she hid a lot of her emotions inside, not wanting to inconvenience people.

5. This includes her issues with PTSD, survivors guilt, depression, and alcoholism. With the help of her siblings Aiyanna has improved significantly, but she does relapse or get triggered.

~With Thatch~

1. Although she’s technically older than Thatch and Marco, she certainly doesn’t act nor looks like it. Hence why she’ll call them her older brothers. She’s also ridiculously short compared to them. Like 5”4’ next to at least over 6”0’ short.

2. Thatch definitely teases her the most, and will call her things like “grandma” or “senior” to poke fun at her age. And he’ll constantly be there to comment about her tiny stature, maybe even moving things out of her reach. Don’t worry, Aiyanna gets back at Thatch when she steals from his kitchen when she’s having bad sugar crazes. There’s a reason why he had locks on the fridge before Ace came onto the crew.

3. Although they get on each other’s nerves, Aiyanna and Thatch work well together. If Thatch ever needs specific herbs for his recipes, he can turn to her and she’ll immediately have just what he needs and will give him a huge supply of it.

4. She also loves being his taste tester, as long as it’s not sour or bitter she’s happy to help (there have been some pranks pulled by Thatch where he gives Aiyanna something really sour though and she just hates everything).

5. I can totally see them being drinking buddies and having drinking contests. They’ll go to a bar once they’re on shore and have so much fun together, joking around and trying different/new drinks.

6. Thatch would definitely try to set Aiyanna up with someone, especially with her whining about not being able to find someone. He’s her wingman of course, and will point out a person to Aiyanna to see what she thinks.

7. Their relationship is basically the stereotypical older brother/younger sister relationship. Both tease and annoy each other relentlessly, but there are also a lot of times where they joke and have fun with each other. Both of them would stand up for the other one in a heartbeat and it shows.

8. Aiyanna 100% encourages his relationship with Pomona, however she takes the stance that if he ever harms her little sister, then it’s game over for him.

9. With Aiyanna not needing to rely on food for nutrients like the others, I can see Thatch being happy with himself when he finds her actively asking for him to make her a specific dish. It would make him feel good knowing that even though his little sister doesn’t need to eat to live, that she’s more than ecstatic to eat his food (more of a want than a need).

~With Marco~

1. Marco and Aiyanna’s relationship would be described as the calm and understanding older brother/younger sister relationship. There are times where Aiyanna can be annoying, but he knows that she’s not intentionally trying to come off that way.

2. Although Thatch and Aiyanna’s relationship is fun and lighthearted, Aiyanna goes to Marco if she ever needs to talk about things or get something off of her chest. He just has that vibe about him and she knows he’s not going to joke around when she’s telling him something personal. She’s able to express herself and worries to him in ways that she can’t with the others, so much so that they have a deeper connection and understanding of each other than what meets the eye. It’s not to say that Aiyanna has a stronger bond with him compared to Thatch, but their relationship is different and is based around different types of emotions.

3. Because of Aiyanna’s race being so unique, in the early days of her joining the crew, Aiyanna spent a lot of time with Marco describing her race and certain biological qualities that they had. That way Marco and the medical staff could have a better understanding of what to do if she gets hurt. For example, if Aiyanna gets injured, Marco cannot use his healing flames to increase recovery. In fact, it does a lot more harm than good (with one knife slice on her left hand becoming permanently scarred when he tried to heal her. Skin no longer covers that scar, and instead it looks like wood is peeking out from underneath her skin. It’s an incident that neither of them talk about).

4. Marco has tried to make medications for Aiyanna that help to eliminate her “hormonal problem” when in the presence of pollen. It’s still in the works, but so far it has caused terrible mood swings, cravings, tiredness, and Aiyanna makes Aiyanna feel more sick than before.

5. Like Thatch, if Marco ever needs any herbs for medications, Aiyanna will grow some for him and will give him all the specific types that he needs.

6. At first Aiyanna was terrified of Marco because of his devil fruit. Luckily the two have worked together to try to combat her fear of fire, just so that Aiyanna can be near him or Ace when they are using their flames (as long as she’s not in their line of fire she’s good, but before even seeing an open flame would make her dart).

7. Aiyanna does get upset with him when he tries to cut her off of her sweets or her alcohol for “health reasons”. She knows that he is only trying to help her, but Aiyanna often uses sweets or alcohol as an unhealthy coping mechanism during her depression bursts.

8. If they’re ever on a winter island and someone somehow drags Aiyanna off the boat and away from a heater, Aiyanna is going to be clinging to either him or Ace the whole time. The cold does not mix well with her and she will sap all the warmth that those two radiate because of their devil fruit powers.

9. When Marco is working in his office trying to do paperwork, Aiyanna will occasionally visit him throughout the day and bring him tea. Usually it is in the early morning hours, just in case he was up all night working (or decided to wake up early to work), or right before the sun goes down. She doesn’t say much, but its a reminder that lets Marco know what time it is and how long he’s been working.

~With Ace~

(These will be if they’re not dating and are in that friend stage still).

1. These two together are Thatch’s worse nightmare when Aiyanna gets her sugar cravings. If one of them is found in the kitchen, there’s a chance that the other one is nearby or was able to get away. There were times where Ace would bolt into her office and hid underneath her desk or under all the god damn plants she had to hide from Thatch. And being the good sister that she was, Aiyanna would cover for him.

2. If they’re on a winter island, Aiyanna’s going to stick to him or Marco. Ace will tease her about it more so than Marco, but he secretly enjoys it. She’ll also go up to him and ask him to provide her with some heat or light if it’s cloudy outside. Sometimes she’ll startle him by sneaking up behind him and just hugging him (not just for warmth but sometimes because she’s just stressed and tired and Ace, although he would be embarrassed about it, understands).

3. Ace spends a lot of time with Aiyanna because of Snickerdoodle. There’s no way of sugar coating how much Ace loves that dog and Snickerdoodle knows it. It’s hilarious how much that dog has Ace wrapped around his paw.

4. By the time Ace joined the Whitebeard pirates, Aiyanna had been working on herself with the help of her siblings, so she’s a lot more open to talking about her personal stuff with him at this point. This really helped Ace out, because Aiyanna openly shares with him her feelings of self worth and some of her deeper insecurities. Especially when Aiyanna admitted that she believed that she didn’t deserve to live, which not only broke his heart, but also allowed him to know that there was someone else who felt like he did. It definitely strengthened their bond.

5. If Ace ever feels like he’s in the dog house because of something he did to Aiyanna, he will find someway to make it up to her. Usually it’s in the form of sweets.

6. Their relationship grows with time, especially because of Aiyanna’s fear of fire and how Ace was trying to get a grasp of his devil fruit powers when he first got them. Her fear of his powers, along with her determination to prove to Ace that it wasn’t him who she was afraid of, but the fire that he produced, pushed Ace to perfect his technique.

7. Aiyanna is very understanding with Ace, especially when he was first trying to juggle all the tasks and responsibilities that a commander of the whitebeard pirates has to do. And with Aiyanna being the records keeper for the crew, she was the one who taught him how to fill out all the paperwork, what kind of math he needed to do, and what he needed to give her. Eventually, Ace just started to save any kind of paper he got, giving Aiyanna a big stack of things once he has to turn in his paperwork. Some of these will be random notes, reminders, or even funny things that he found lying around while on a mission or in general. She’ll send back those things with doodles and some notes (such as “Keep it up!”, “You got this!”, “Remember to do this today Ace :),” or an occasional joke). I like to think he keeps some of them and looks at them from time to time.

8. Unlike some of the others who complain about Ace talking about his brother Luffy, Aiyanna will listen to him and his stories in great detail. By the time she meets Luffy she will know everything about that boy (Ace, fanboy much?). She’ll see Luffy do something and be like “oh so he still does ___ a certain way.” And everyone just goes “what?”

9. I like to think that they will call each other different nicknames just for the fun of it. Like Aiyanna would call him Pepper, Freckles, or Hot Stuff. While Ace would call Aiyanna Freckle (since she has so many freckles that she’s just one big freckle), Sweet Stuff, or Broccoli (in response to her pepper nickname for him).

~With Pomona~

1. Although Aiyanna loves her older brothers, she’s fiercely more protective and hangs out with her sisters when she can. With all the men on the ship, it makes sense that the girls would try to stick together and spend time together. Aiyanna is no exception, and often takes on the role as “older/big sister”.

2. This role sums up Pomona and Aiyanna’s relationship to a t. Aiyanna will give Pomona advise if she ever asks for it, will always be a shoulder for her to lean on, and is one of her number one fans. Even during Pomona’s relationship with Thatch, Aiyanna made sure that Pomona was always being treated right, and would take her side if anything happened.

3. If Pomona ever makes Aiyanna sweets or dishes, the nymph will be over the moon. Anything that she makes Aiyanna will cherish it and call it wonderful (even if she adds too much spice to it and Aiyanna is sitting over there crying but eating every last bite).

4. When the two have the chance, both of them would hang out in Aiyanna’s overcrowded office, Aiyanna showing the chef what types of plants can be edible, what parts can be used for what purposes, and how to identify them. Aiyanna believes that a chef or anyone who wants to cook good food should know exactly where their ingredients are coming from, including the herbs and spices.

5. I can totally see Pomona being a huge force in Aiyanna obtaining her Den Den Mushi Erpsi. The two of them were out shopping in town one day and the two of them came across a snail seller who was just about to kill the snail after he had been returned multiple times due to “bad behavior”. Luckily, the two of them were able to buy him and Pomona asked Aiyanna to take care of him. Erpsi is now an over sized snail who although likes to cause trouble and is a diva, he’s doing quite well for himself.

6. These girls will shower each other with puns. It doesn’t matter what it is. You know those videos where the guy is in the store with his girlfriend and is using the products to make puns? That’s them and neither of them have any regrets about it.

7. When Pomona needs to hide somewhere or doesn’t want to deal with people, I can see her turning into her moth form (if it gets super tiny that is) and just burying herself in Aiyanna’s hair to hide from others. Aiyanna doesn’t reveal her location but will sometimes boop her head to make sure she’s alright. I also like to think Aiyanna would make hats like these for her.

8. I like to think that after the two get to know each other more, their relationship will be based on deep mutual understanding and appreciation for the other. Aiyanna understands Pomona’s insecurities and often combats some of the same issues but in different ways. She’ll try to help her sister out however she can because she hates seeing Pomona upset. On the other hand, Pomona tries to help Aiyanna once she mentally gets into a dark place, especially when she starts drinking heavily. After Thatch’s death and the events of Marineford (worse come scenario), these two cling together like no tomorrow because both of them just know how the other is feeling and that they need each other more than ever.

9. Pomona was probably one of the first people who Aiyanna opened up to about her home island and family/priest situation. Marco knew something was up but didn’t press Aiyanna for details, just offering his shoulder for support at times. She would tell him about her emotions or how she was feeling in the beginning, but either than Pops, Pomona was the first one to know everything that happened. She encouraged her to tell Marco and eventually the others once the time became right. I like to think that even though Aiyanna tried being a rock to Pomona, Pomona provided Aiyanna with a good push that she needed in order to become more open about herself to her crew mates. And now Aiyanna is open about pretty much anything lol.

~With Rosa~

(For granted these aren’t as detailed as the others, but that’s because we haven’t really had these muses interact much yet lol. Hopefully that’ll change soon!!)

1. These girls will be the ultimate shopping partners and would have so much fun going to different stores on the island, trying things on together, buying sweets from the vendors, etc.

2. Aiyanna thinks Rosa is absolutely precious and has a huge big sister protective instinct for her. Someone looks at Rosa the wrong way? Yeah they’re going to have to deal with this fuming nymph and the rest of the Rosa Protection Squad.

3. Rosa’s passion for music automatically draws Aiyanna in. As an avid dancer, Aiyanna loves to listen to new songs and figure out what kind of dances she can come up for them.

4. The nymph would actively try to check to see if Rosa was doing alright. Just like with Marco, Aiyanna would bring Rosa tea or some desserts that she managed to sneak out of the kitchen, checking to see if the hummingbird was alright. She would often lend her an ear if she needed to speak to someone, and try to give her advice if she needed any. Aiyanna would definitely go through great lengths to make sure her sister is happy, because like Pomona, Aiyanna understands the insecurities that Rosa has and doesn’t want her to feel as bad as she does.

@xmenageriie @jijiivishaa @bluebcrn @xpuriity @the-flaming-spade

#nymph verse #Whitebeard pirates #headcanons #jijiivishaa #xpuriity #bluebcrn #xmenageriie #pomona #pomona the moth goddess #rosa #marco #thatch #big brother thatch #big brother marco #pretimeskip

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gertrudehalverso-blog · 6 years ago

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Which Music Genres Are Fashionable Round The World

It is official - science has primarily confirmed, with a examine, that Pop music is certainly each getting louder and diminishing in variety. An on the spot and enduring anthem for the gay Latinx community, Yo No Te Pido la Luna" is as much about the moon as Coronary heart of Glass" is about cardiovascular health. This is a music about grabbing the evening by the hand and squeezing for expensive mercy as a result of the sun might not come out tomorrow. The track's legacy has solely grown since its release, www.magicaudiotools.com with queer artists like Javiera Mena and Alex Anwandter citing it as a direct affect. Certainly, a whole generation of Latinx electro-pop artists can trace their sonic DNA back to Romo's glittering power-ballad. A.C. Flamenco is a music, music and dance model which is strongly influenced by the Gitanos (Spanish Gypsies), but which has its deeper roots in Moorish and Jewish musical traditions. Originally, flamenco consisted of unaccompanied singing (cante). Later the songs had been accompanied by flamenco guitar (toque), rhythmic hand clapping ( palmas), rhythmic toes stomping (zapateado) and dance (baile). The toque and baile are additionally often found with out the cante, although the music remains at the heart of the flamenco custom. Trotz der unglaublichen Dichte und Menge an Info, ist "Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!: The Story of Pop Music from Bill Haley to Beyoncé" zu keiner Sekunde mühselig oder langatmig. Es ist dem frischen Schreibstil und der direkten Art von Stanley zu verdanken, dass die Geschichte der modernen Musik immer lesbar und unterhaltsam bleibt. Der Autor vermag es seine persönlichen Ansichten in objektive Erzählungen einzubringen, bietet Underdogs und vergessenen Musiker eine Plattform und spornt immer wieder zu eigenen Reminiszenzen an. 7. The 1980's saw disco dominate the key music scene with the pop rock taking a back seat. Rock started to distance itself aside increasingly with glam rock, metal and different being different scenes folks followed. pop rock was more different at this point. Bands like R.E.M had been the main trend setters. This music was hyper rational and futuristic byt still had hints of punk which drew crowds in. 1980's was a lull in pop rock. It had been swolled up and e-tournament.ru spat out. Indeed, pop music as it is at present would not be what it's at this time with out that evolution. Pioneers of rock music embrace Muddy Waters, Ike Turner, Louis Jordan, Little Richard and Bo Diddley. They served because the role fashions of later artists similar to Carl Perkins, Jerry Lee Lewis, Elvis Presley, Bill Haley, and much more who made it big. From then on, more superstars rose by means of the ranks and made pop music like no different-superstars and worldwide icons like The Beatles, The Yardbirds, The Rolling Stones, The Who, Led Zeppelin, Manfred Mann, Cream, and many others. At present's musician really is spoiled for selection relating to professionally produced and curated packs of presets and synth patches. Zero-G have been producing this stuff since 1990, and you may hear their samples utilized in old dance tracks such as the Prodigy's Climate Expertise to Haddaway's What Is Love? - or more lately in the work of Rammstein and columbustennant36.wikidot.com Skrillex. Kanye West uses Zero-G's Africa voice 161 from 1991 in his 2012 monitor Clique , whereas Africa 13 111" appears in Huge Shot, Kendrick Lamar's recent coupling with Travi$ Scott In the meantime, users of Loopmasters ' Sample Boutique libraries vary from Deadmau5 to David Guetta. Kendrick Lamar's REALLY FEEL (2017) makes use of two of the company's off-the-peg samples - COF_125_Am_LaidOut_Underwater" and COF_134_B_Changed_Dopey"- and if preset sounds are ok for pop's first Pulitzer prize winner, they're adequate for everybody. What does the nervous system of the lowly lobster have to inform us about standing up straight (with our shoulders back) and about success in life? Why did historic Egyptians worship the capability to pay careful attention as the highest of gods? What dreadful paths do individuals tread when they turn out to be resentful, boastful and vengeful? Dr. Peterson journeys broadly, discussing discipline, freedom, journey and duty, distilling the world's wisdom into 12 practical and profound rules for all times. 12 Rules for Life shatters the modern commonplaces of science, faith and human nature, while remodeling and ennobling the mind and spirit of its readers. The exact relationship between music and speech notion stays unclear, nonetheless. (See Musical Roots" here.) Joe Crew of cochlear implant company Superior Bionics suspects that the correlation may merely replicate common auditory processing abilities, such as focus, fatigue, and working reminiscence. The hyperlink between speech and music is pretty tenuous once you factor that out," he says. Goldsworthy thinks it's price a attempt, though. His group is now working to train CI customers to raised hear music in hopes that it may additionally improve their capacity to grasp speech.

Rock and roll brought with it the electric guitar, and Beatlemania could also be spotted throughout Japan. Through the recognition of both a new sub-genre of kayoukyoku called "Group Sounds" sprang up, though its tenure was tenuous at greatest. Group Sounds attempted to recreate the rock band motif with Japanese musicians, however controversy abounded when members argued about whether or not or not rock and roll could be performed in Japanese. Many bands struggled to realize a foothold as they debated between singing in English or Japanese. Finally Group Sounds died away for a few years when no person might come up with a transparent answer.A couple of years ago, my buddy Jill Sternheimer and I started a conversation one night time while driving across the streets of New Orleans. Both of us are music nerds, and we frequently attend the sorts of musical retrospectives which have develop into widespread on this age of historical exploration by way of tribute exhibits and historical playlists. Jill, the truth is, often organizes such exhibits at Lincoln Middle Out of Doorways, where she is the director of public packages. I sometimes write about them, and infrequently ponder how music historical past's being recorded and revised within the digital age. Why, we wondered, was the significance of girls so often acknowledged as a trend as an alternative of a supply of lasting influence? We got here to a conclusion that, in 2017, will likely strike nobody as a shock: that the overall historical past of common music is advised through the nice works of men, and that with no severe revision of the canon, women will all the time remain on the margins.

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tysonrunningfox · 6 years ago

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21 snotstrid please uwu

I don’t know what this is but it was fun

Halloween Prompts

Snotlout isn’t scared.

Mostly, he’s not scared because there’s no way there’s a ghost in the old MacGregor mansion, Hiccup is a liar just looking for attention. He knows that just as certainly as he knows that the glass ball Astrid is carrying is just a giant marble, and that lady with all the scarves swindled them out of thirty bucks, but since Hiccup doesn’t trust rational people to not see his stupid ghost, they had to carry a stupid giant marble in here to get him to shut up.

“Upstairs?” Astrid asks, flinching when he accidentally aims the flashlight right into her eyes. "Be careful with that thing.“

"Maybe I should go first,” he shoulders past her, pausing at the bottom of the stairs and taking in the uneven, creaky boards. A shadow skitters across the third and he jumps, fumbling the flashlight and ducking halfway behind Astrid, free hand on her arm.

“Seriously? It was a spider.” She shrugs his hand off, “I thought you weren’t scared.”

“I’m not,” he prods the first stair with a careful toe. It creaks and another spider appears from a crack in the wood. Snotlout shivers, crossing his arms and rubbing at the goosebumps. "The stairs just look super old and maybe you should go first because you’re lighter. In case they break.“

"And they say chivalry isn’t dead.” She shakes her head at him, disgusted, and tucks the stupid big marble under her arm to grip the dusty banister. She does test the first stair though, bouncing on the ball of her foot before climbing to the second. "Can I get some light?“ She gestures at the stairs ahead of her and when he re-aims the flashlight, something bigger than a spider flits across the hallway at the top of them. It’s Astrid’s turn to jump and she glares over her shoulder at him before he can say anything. "Don’t say anything, it was a mouse.”

“I wasn’t going to,” he shrugs, following her cautiously onto the first stair. Usually, this would be a good opportunity to stare at her ass, but as much as he tries to focus, shadows moving too quick to be moonlight keep grabbing his attention.

The second to last stair cracks and splinters when Astrid puts her weight on it and her foot falls through. She fumbles for the glass ball and Snotlout catches her shoulder reflexively before she can fall back.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, shrugging his hand off and handing the glass ball back to him.

“I tried warning you that the stairs might crack–”

“Can I have the flashlight so I can get my foot unstuck?” She’s impatient, yanking her foot upwards with no luck.

“Scared the ghost is going to get it?”

“No, but I don’t want tetanus from a rusty nail,” a tinge of almost panic leaks into her voice as she tugs behind her knee with her hand. Her sneaker crunches through and she almost falls back again, but Snotlout catches her with the glass ball against the small of her back. "Come on,“ she jumps over the dark hole her foot left and waits on the landing, shining the flashlight in either direction and leaving Snotlout in the dark.

"Hey!”

“Are you coming?” She shines the light right in his face, “you should probably jump the last step.”

“No shit,” he tucks the ball under his arm to do so, grip tight on the top of the banister, half expecting the whole floor to fall out from underneath him when he lands.

“I said jump, not shake the whole house by landing as hard as you can,” Astrid gripes, flashing the flashlight both directions, “left or right.”

“Should I ask the marble?” He holds it up and she rolls her eyes, her scoff making the motion recognizable in the dark.

“I swear, if you believe in ghosts and crystal balls and I don’t know what else and you just said you didn’t to hit on me all night–”

“As much as I’m looking forward to you getting scared later and needing my manly protection,” he flexes an arm and Astrid’s jaw twitches, “I’m here to prove Hiccup wrong.”

“That’s not the same as not believing in ghosts,” she takes the big dumb marble back and forces the flashlight into his hand before choosing left and walking into the first room. It’s a definitionally creepy sitting room with a big old grandfather clock and two moth eaten chairs across from a dusty wooden bench. The portrait on the wall is of an old man in a suit with a pretty fantastic moustache and Astrid stares at it for a second before sitting on the bench, marble in her lap. "So, do you? Believe in ghosts, I mean.“ It’s a real question, whispered and judgmental and Snotlout scoffs, sitting next to her and slouching down, shrugging his hoodie around cold ears. The beam of light from his flashlight cuts through the dusty air to illuminate the portrait. "You seemed pretty scared downstairs–”

“Because that spider was the size of a mouse, Astrid, I believe in spiders and I believe in them wanting to bite me.”

“Spiders are harmless,” she tucks one foot underneath her, spinning the glass ball in her lap. It catches moonlight streaming in through moth-eaten curtains and she looks at the flashlight. "You can turn that off, probably, we might need the battery later.“

"And sit in the dark?”

“It’s not that dark, the full moon is right outside.” She gestures at the window, “are you scared?”

“No,” he clicks off the flashlight and it makes the crickets outside instantly louder. He imagines he can ear spider feet dragging across the dusty floor. There’s an unopened closed behind the chair across from them, next to the big creepy clock and it’s hard not to imagine it opening. Even if there’s nothing inside it but spiders, the door is setting him on edge. Maybe it’s full of spiders, or something else. Maybe some drifter heard about their plan to prove Hiccup wrong by spending a night here and broke in to wait for them to steal their stuff and blame it on ghosts. Of course, that would only work if they don’t leave any witnesses.

The clock chimes.

“Get off of me!” Astrid shoves him away as he grabs her arm, tugging her half into his lap like a shield. The glass ball bounces on the dusty rug, rolling slowly to knock against the closed closet door.

“The clock just went off for no reason–”

“It’s midnight,” she shows him her digital watch, elbowing him in the ribs to climb off of him before brushing drifts of dust off of her legs. "Clocks sometimes make sounds at midnight and other relevant hours.“

"But it’s not ticking,” he points at the clock’s pendulum, still and dusty in its cobwebbed chamber.

“I don’t know, maybe it has enough of a charge to chime but not enough to tick.”

“Don’t you have to wind old clocks? That means someone has wound it recently–”

“Or it’s just a weird, broken old clock.” She picks up the glass ball and checks it over. "And be careful with this, the last thing I want is Ruffnut deciding a ghost got to it when we bring it out of here chipped.“

"Ok, but hear me out, what if it’s not a ghost, what if a serial killer broke in here before us because they heard we were coming and they want to get their murder rocks off and blame it on some dumb ghost.” He points at the closet as she sits back down next to him.

“Yeah, I’m sure they heard from their werewolf buddy before the full moon forced them to embrace the beast within.”

“Are you sure it’s a full moon, not just an almost full moon?” He hugs himself.

“Wait.” She shushes him, one hand on the ball on her lap. "Do you hear that?“

"Hear what?”

“Oh my god, I think the crystal ball is working.” Her eyes widen and Snotlout shakes his head.

“No, it’s not. That’s impossible, you said there was no such thing as ghosts and I believed you, Astrid–”

“The spirits…” she closes her eyes and tilts her head back for a second, “they’re telling me…that you’re a dumbass.” She turns to look at him levelly, unimpressed and maybe a little amused.

“Very funny.”

“Thanks, I thought so,” she sighs, “sorry, it was also kind of mean.”

“Since when have you apologized for being mean to me?” He snorts, still keeping an eye on that closet even as he forces himself to relax, rolling tense shoulders and focusing on crickets.

“Since I realized I don’t want to spend the next six hours with you freaking out.” She looks around the room and nods, “just a creepy old house full of creepy old things.”

“You can say that again,” he nods at the portrait on the wall, “who do you think Mr. Moustache is?”

“I think that’s Mr. MacGregor,” she answers with certainty she doesn’t quite play off as casual. "He inherited the house back at the turn of the century. Apparently he was trying to sell it when his son died and he kind of became a hermit here.“

"Creepy,” Snotlout shoves his hands in his pockets. Astrid sets the glass ball between them and hugs her knees to her chest, hands pulled back inside her sleeves. "You know, if your'e cold, you could come over here.“

"Right, so you can use me as a human shield between you and the scary closet again?” She shakes her head, “I’m good, thanks.”

“For the record, I was thinking there was a serial killer in the closet, not a ghost.”

“Was that before or after you thought werewolves were real?” She raises an eyebrow and deliberates for a second before picking up the glass ball again and switching places with it, her shoulder almost touching his. "I’m just getting away from the window, there’s a draft.“

"Sure, babe.”

She elbows him, “I thought you said you weren’t going to hit on me.”

“I said I didn’t lie about not believing in ghosts to hit on you. How hot you look in the creepy moonlight is just a bonus.”

“You know, a serial killer isn’t the only person who could blame a murder on ghosts.” She glares at him but doesn’t move, staring at the grandfather clock that’s looking less creepy and more boring the longer that they sit here.

Snotlout isn’t sure when he falls asleep. He knows it’s after one, because he waits to see if the clock chimes again and points out when it doesn’t. He definitely doesn’t mean to fall asleep, it’s like he blinks and suddenly the sun is assaulting his eyelids while a pointy elbow digs into his thigh and a firm weight lifts from his shoulder. It’s Astrid, groggy eyed and still half leaning on him, hair messed up from where her head found his shoulder.

“Shit, we fell asleep,” she looks around, “but we made it through, so I guess we won the bet.”

Snotlout looks down at his lap and frowns. There’s a quilt over them, moth-eaten and dusty but warm, and he’s warm enough underneath it that it must have been there for a while.

“Where’d you get the blanket?”

“Huh?” Astrid freezes, looking down at her own lap, “I didn’t get it, I figured you must have, like cuddling a sleeping person isn’t a creepy move,” she shoves at his shoulder and he holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“Right, like you weren’t the one practically on top of me with your heavy bowling ball head–”

The closet door creaks open and they both snap to look at it. It’s empty except for some ancient clothes and rusty pipes running along the back wall. Clothes and pipes and a crystal ball that rolls slowly across the room to rest against Astrid’s feet.

“It’s an ancient house,” she jumps up, shoving the blanket to the ground and picking up the ball, holding it gingerly between her fingers. "The floor isn’t level.“

"And you were clearly making a move on me with the blanket,” he follows close behind as she practically runs to the staircase, checking over her shoulder every few feet.

“Was not.”

“I don’t see what else happened.” He steps carefully over the stair her foot put a hole in last night, “did the ghost cover us up and put the crystal ball in the closet so that it could open all ominously in the morning?”

“Right, a ghost disproved all modern science and common sense to be your wingman,” she opens the front door and steps out into the sun, tossing the crystal ball back at him as soon as they’re outside. It’s warm, too warm and too uniform to have come from Astrid’s grip on it, and he almost drops it.

“Not even Hiccup would believe that.”

“Ok, so we just don’t tell him.” She shrugs, “we won the bet, we didn’t see anything weird.” When he doesn’t answer right away she blushes, glancing back at the house and crossing her arms. "Got it?“

The door they just came through slams shut behind them, a gust of unusually cold air following them off of the porch as they both run the last couple of steps. Snotlout nods.

"Yup, boring house, we saw nothing, we definitely don’t need to go back in there.”

“It’s just the wind,” she snaps, scowling as she stalks back towards the street. Snotlout doesn’t believe that for a second, but he sticks close anyway, because she’s determined enough that the ghost just might buy into it.

#snotstrid #modern au #halloween prompts #this is a good way to switch gears methinks

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unhappy-house-of-horrors · 2 years ago

Text

Welcome to my pinned!

Not a lot to say here, mostly just a little directory here!

Who will answer questions asked?

FAQs? <- Reading these are a must if you want to ask something :) (they’re under the cut)

Current Fronter(s) (if you’re wanting to ask a specific question to a specific someone, this is a great way to figure out when someone’s available!)

I don’t really have a DNI or any sort of fancy CARRD for us, so this is the best we’ve got. Thanks for stopping by!

🔨⚠️Under Construction⚠️🔧

FAQ

FIRSTLY, FOR MY OWN COMFORT AND THE SAFETY OF THE SYSTEM:

DO NOT TAG ANYTHING AS THE SOURCE MATERIAL WE MAY BE FROM. THAT MAKES US ALL SO VERY UNCOMFORTABLE AND YOU MISTAKING US FOR A CHARACTER IS OFFENSIVE.

PLEASE DON’T DO THIS :)

Howdy there! In case you were wondering how you got here, you’ve somehow stumbled upon the personal interactive blog of my system. Headmates interact here on the regular and are encouraged to do so.

What is this blog/what will I see here?

this blog was started to be somewhere I could use to vent about issues I have as someone who suffers from mental and chronic illness, but I slowly decided that I wanted it to be a safe space for my headmates and system as a whole. We’ll mostly be answering questions and posting doodles by alters and/or ones I wouldn’t share on my main. We will answer things similarly to an ask blog from time to time.

What are the tags on here and what do they mean?

#artofhorrors will be for any art posted, #your ghost host is for posts from the host (me!), #gruff and grumble is for Gruff, #cheerytree is for Layla, #carebear bubs is for Teddybear, #cumulocloud is for Cirrus, #tarot readings is for Natalia, #miss me with that shit is for Riley, #bumbly bee is for Zee, #cuddlebug is for Beetle, #cupcake is for Muffin, #you crack me up little buddy is for Sam, #tell me what the commissioner said is for Max, #train departing is for Tucker, #shark bait ooh ha ha is for Finny, #malibu is for Barbie, #mister minecraft is for Phil, #till death do us part is for Eve, #now in 3D is for Jack, #sharp and stabby is for “Edgelord”, #fruity drink is for Mèngo, #butterfly girl is for Genevieve, #bear bud is for Freds, #full moon is for Rox, #here comes the sun is for Sun, #rises the moon is for Moon, #spinning like a ballerina is for Macy, #paging on-call doctor is for Shannon, #itty bitty caterpillar is for Kaiser, #bits and bobs is for Blinky, #deep blue sea is for Blue, #technicolor canopy is for Inky, #watch me roll is for Tootsie, #chocolate bunny boy is for Cadbury, #cotton head is for Sofaipilla, #now in color! and #scarab!! is for Sphinks, #paddle paws is for Benji, #long ears is for Lemon, #pick a flower is for Iris, #for the departed is for Reaper, #poor unfortunate souls is for Obelisk, #chickadee darling is for Chica, #alligator aggravator is for Monty, #record scratch is for DJMM, #tropicana bro is for Splenda, #big papa Tex is for Texas, #yellow lovely is for Callie, #crisscross applesauce is for Cross, #flower girl is for Lily, #snuggle bear is for Horror, #big man tom is for Tommy, #big man tubbo is for Tubs, #vanity is a killer is for Vanity, #the red means I love you is for Roone, #said the spider to the fly is for Tule, #rocket boy is for Kepler, #blueby ice cream is for Mooney, #powdered sugardust is for Dust, #happy buzzing is for Zazzy, #dearly delightful is for Delite, #dead or alive is for Geno, #apple dumpling dearest is for Passi, #serpentine is for Pen, #explodes is for Blueberror/Blueby, #curious yet curiouser is for SciFi, #little dovelet is for Goth, #flutterbutter is for Fluttershy, #sKill issue is for Killer (#3), #littles under wraps is for any posts relating to/requested by littles, #unhappy house chat is for ask posts, #unhappy haunts is for personal text posts, #headstone text is for general text posts, #mild murmurs are for vents/vent posts, #blurry/hazy is for any post where we’re unsure of who is at front

#birthday crypt is for posts relating to a birthday.

What exactly are headmates/alters/systems/etc.?

I’m not really comfortable trying to explain it and then getting backlash for being wrong. Do your research on the topics before trying to say anything nasty. And if you don’t have something nice to say, maybe don’t say anything at all.

Why did you make a system blog?

My headmates are the ones who have been dying to interact with people, and I’ve been hesitant, but want them to at least have a chance to hang out and meet new people. We are never going to promote this blog, so if you happen to find it, you are the only ones who will know I have headmates. I’d prefer that if you do figure out and find my main, don’t mention this at all. It doesn’t feel safe, even when diagnosed, to have the two overlap. I’m keeping my personal blog separate from my special interests.

who are your headmates anyway?

I am a poly-fragmented DID system, meaning that I do have subsystems within my own system. I will separate those host alters by italicizing their names and then explaining which alters are in their systems.

Personally that I have been able to identify in my own system: Barbie, Beetle, Blinky, Blueby, Cirrus, Connor, Cross, Delite, Dust, Edgelord, Finny, Fissure, Genevieve, Geno, Goth, Gruff, Horror, Iris, Jack, Kaiser, Kill3r, Layla, Max, Méngo, Mooney, Muffin, Natalia, Obelisk, Passi, Reaper, Riley, Roone, Sam, Sans Manatale, Shannon, Sir Pentious (Pent), Sphinks, Splenda, Teddybear, Texas, Tucker, Tule, Vanity, Zazzy, and Zee.

Genevieve’s system (🦋) includes: Freds, Chica, Rox, Chompy, Nilla, DJMM, Cassie, Gregy, Sun, Moon, Macy, Monty, Lily, Benji, and Lemon.

Blinky’s system (🧿) includes: Blue, Inky, Tootsie, Cadbury, and Sofaipilla.

Tucker & Jack’s system (📼) includes: Callie, Phil, Eve, Tommy, and Tubs.

Kaiser’s system (🐛) includes: Kepler.

Tule had a split(🧶): SciFi.

Goth’s system (🕊) includes: Fluttershy.

Delite had a split(🍓🍨): Rainier.

Two of these systems include littles that are not listed for their safety and ours. They will not be on this blog interacting, but may be mentioned or drawn.

Do any of your headmates use brackets when they talk?

Yes, some of them do! Others simply use identifying emojis, which I don’t have an issue with- *gruff talks like this /Teddybear talks like this/ •Layla talks like this• <Cirrus talks like this> }Natalia talks like this{ «Riley talks like this» °Zee talks like this° 🪲Beetle talks like this🪲 🧁Muffin talks like this🧁 „Sam talks like this„ ¡Max talks like this! £Tucker talks like this£ ≈Tommy talks like this≈ ¥Tubs talks like this¥ ≠Finny talks like this≠ 👠Barbie talks like this €Phil talks like this€ 🌿Eve talks like this👁‍🗨 ₽Jack talks like this₽ “Edgelord Talks Like This” or “LIKE THIS” 🥭Mèngo talks like this 🦋Genevieve talks like this🦋 ⚡️Freddy talks like this⚡️ ☀️Sun talks like this☀️ 🌙Moon talks like this🌙 🎹DJMM talks like this🎹 🐊Monty talks like this🐊 🐺Rox(y) talks like this🐺 🐓Chica talks like this🐓 🩹Gregy talks like this🩹 🍬Cassie talks like this🍬 🦊Benji talks like this 🐰Lemon talks like this 🪷Lily talks like this 🩰Macy talks like this ₩Shannon talks like this₩ 🐛Kaiser talks like this🐛 🌀Blinky talks like this🌀 🔵Blinky’s Blue talks like this🔵 ✒️Blinky’s Inky talks like this🖋 🍥Tootsie talks like this🍥 🍫Cadbury talks like this🐇 💤Sofaipilla talks like this💤 🎨Sphinks talks like this🖌 ;;Iris talks like this;; ¢Reaper talks like this¢ 🪓Horror talks like this 🐙Obelisk talks like this 💛Callie talks like this 🕯Geno talks like this ♟Dust talks like this ❌Cross talks like this 🚀Kepler talks like this🌟💫 §Texas talks like this§ 🍊Splenda talks like this 🕷Tule talks like this 🎯Vanity talks like this ❤️‍🔥Roone talks like this 🦜Zazzy talks like this 🫐Mooney Talks Like This🍦 🌾Passi talks like this 🧬SciFi talks like this 🐍Pentiousss talksss like thisss 🍌Blueberror talk-talk-talks like this-th-this 🍓Delite talks like this!🍰 🕊Goth talks like this 🔪Kil3r talks like this 🎠Fluttershy talks like this…

More will be added if and when the alter chooses a bracket for themself. Please be respectful of alters with typing quirks, stutters, etc.

Why don’t you want to post this art/these things on your main?

Because that’s not what my main is about. My system and my personal life is not what I want on my main. This is for my headmates and my system.

You’re copying _______! I’m telling on you!

I’m reeeeally not. System blogs are overly common now, and I don’t have a problem with sharing my own experiences.

Can you tell us more about yourselves?

Links to everyone’s personal introductions will be added as they come in! It will take a while as I want everyone to do them themselves, so waiting for someone to front is the best option.

Bones’ intro is here: https://at.tumblr.com/unhappy-house-of-horrors/time-to-make-an-introductory-post-i/b1pde6z5rv2q Gruff’s intro is here: https://at.tumblr.com/unhappy-house-of-horrors/name-role-age-my-pronouns-are-things-that/vjtgd8xuvq08 Sofa’s intro is here: https://www.tumblr.com/unhappy-house-of-horrors/717335133955457024 Mèngo’s intro is here: https://www.tumblr.com/unhappy-house-of-horrors/718712766923472896

Why won’t you let your littles on here?

Because they’re just that: littles. Alters who are under 11 are not allowed to interact on here. They may request their drawings to be posted and we may make art of them, but they will NOT answer any questions or do anything themselves. Think of it like being old enough to have your first phone. You don’t need to be on social media when you get one, in my opinion as an adult, and my other adult alters agree that they don’t need to be on here. Even the minor alters that *are* allowed to post here are under supervision and not allowed to post without approval.

Who can we ask questions?

That master post is located at this link: https://www.tumblr.com/unhappy-house-of-horrors/703587049761095680/masterlist-of-who-will-answer-questions-you-may?source=share

Last Updated: 06/17/24

#your ghost host #unhappy haunts #headstone text #last edited 06/17/24

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