#and her clothes?? she actually is wearing clothes i may cry. she Needed that armour fix

[railroad-migraine]

May I request how each of the campaign 3 characters act with a blood hunter order of the Lycan s/o (maybe their a teifling and instead of turning into a werewolf they turn more demonic?)

Ooohohohooo nice idea! I included a lot of characters here, so enjoy!

Lads, I'm so busy with college, hope y'all understand why I've been quiet :)

~ Poet

S/O is a Demon!Bloodhunter

Ashton

Is your number one fan. His favourite person has a deadly curse that they have mastered and full control over - what's not to like?

At this point, things between you can't get any weirder, and they're convinced that y'all are simply meant to be. They jokingly suggest eloping after seeing your demonic form for the first time, and laughs it off with you, but fuck, that was hot. Absolutely is certain that you guys are soulmates at this point.

He thinks that you're the most badass person he knows, and he won't let anyone not worthy of this side of you say otherwise. Tiefling, demon, bloodhunter - it's a package deal, and Ashton is all for it.

Chetney (lol)

Holy shit, you too??? Thanks for stealing my thunder there. In all honesty though, he's only teasing, because you also having two sides to you puts him at ease - he's not alone in this weird situation, not anymore.

Probably the most unfazed of the party whenever you start shifting forms, because he's got his own stuff to deal with ie. not get stepped on/trip someone up. Plus, he trusts what you're capable of - you don't need his short ass telling you how to fight when you're like this. You guys may share respective curses, but he gets the fact that you both understand and deal with them differently.

Place Chetney on your shoulders and parade around the battlefield with a cackling lycan-gnome wielding woodworker's tools while in your demonic shape. Y'all will either make the enemy cry, retreat or laugh themselves silly; it's a win-win situation.

Dorian

Is so so so accepting of who you truly are, and is so proud of you for revealing this part of you just as the party's ass was getting kicked. You were his knight in shining armour, hellfire wrapping around your body as you fought the enemy; Dorian has committed that image to memory for a future song.

Softly cups your face after the battle, because yes, in moments like this you are far more intimidating in appearance, but he can still make out that impish look on your face. It's you, but at full power, harnessing your curse's ultimate potential.

Will happily argue with Chetney throughout the night that his lovely tiefling partner changing into a demon is NOT the same as transforming into a short and squat werewolf - they actually have the decency to wear clothes, he says with a flushed face.

Fearne

When in your demonic shape, you and Fearne are arguably the most noticeable and eye catching of the party. She's a seven foot tall, drop dead gorgeous faun, and you're a stunning tiefling in your most hellish of forms.

Power couple goals, honestly. Look, we match, she coos as she winds poisonous flowers around your horns in a similar fashion to hers. Who says power can't be pretty?

She has a goal to time one of her own transformations with yours, shifting into a direwolf the moment your eyes burn brighter and your frame heightens. Such a badass way to make an impression at the beginning of a fight, and Little Mister screeches enthusiastically from behind you as you fight with newfound primal determination - Fearne can't help but huff with affection.

Imogen

Squeaks every time you switch forms. It doesn't scare her like it did the first time she saw it happen, because now she understands that it's still you under the guise of a demon - she just doesn't expect it to happen so suddenly and with little notice. That'll never get old, y'know that right?

If you are just as curious as her, while she's venturing through libraries and flicking through ancient tomes trying to figure out her strange dreams and powers, she'd love to find some books to help you understand your infernal bloodline and bloodhunter talents. Knowledge is power, and she already knows you're pretty powerful.

She gets a little shy when you stand next to her in your transformed state. You exude a different energy, magic and strength and wow, it's a lot to take in. She feels so safe at your side, and it's enough to mute the voices she hears and give her own thoughts back, just for a little while - even if they are mainly all about you.

Laudna

As your limbs twist and elongate in the middle of a particularly tough battle, with horns emerging from the crown of your head and your eyes blazing... you hear delighted applause from the warlock-sorcerer beside you. She cheers you on as you tear your way through enemies, whooping and pointing as she looks at the party, because did you see what they did? You're doing splendid, darling!

Laudna is equally fascinated and enamoured by your transformation, but should it cause you any pain during it, she is so gentle afterwards. Makes sure you're spoiled rotten when you return to the form she's more familiar with.

She's even more convinced that you're meant for each other now - you're scary, she's scary - both very *fun scary* in her opinion though. You just get each other, understanding that some people may not understand you both, but that's okay cuz you have each other and this strange found family you have. Match made in heaven (or hells...?) <3

Orym

He's heard of people like you before. Not much, but a little. He already knew that some tieflings were simply born this way, while others change over time. Either way, your heritage combined with your blood hunter curse only accentuates how special you are to him.

Finds it fascinating how it's all still you, but your entire body changes shape, as if formed by some divine template. Laughs as you grow in height, asking if you've got a few extra inches you can lend me?

He can't really put it into words, but to him, he sees you as nothing short of an angel. You were meant to bring harm and despair to this world, and yet you chose good. Orym sees past the hellfire and sharp edges; all he sees you, and how much you care for your friends and for him. And that's enough for the halfling.

[maribatshipper]

Miraculous Damienette Reader Insert

A girl with H/C, H/L, H/S hair walks into College Françoise Dupont, looking for a certain bluenette, her E/C eyes glimmering as she sees the bluebell-eyed teen in one of the classes. The bell rings & she walks into the classroom & runs straight for the other girl.

"NETTIEEEEE!" She exclaims, surprising the bluenette.

The redheaded teacher asks, "Who are you? This-"

The girl laughs, "Oh, I am Marinette's cousin Y/N who just came back from Australia!"

Suddenly, a girl who's hair reminds Y/N of a horse's butt smiles, "Oh, I remember Australia. I went there last year & had some of that deliciously sweet stuff they called Vigimite."

Y/N laughs her butt off. The girl looks offended.

"That is the funniest thing I've heard in weeks! You can't even pronounce it!" Y/N laughs.

"Hey, Why are you laughing at Lila? She was just trying to connect with you!" A brunette with glasses frowns at Y/N.

"Because, this Lila girl obviously has never been to Australia. Vegemite is certainly not sweet. It is a savoury spread the locals put on bread. Next thing she's gonna be telling me is that they ride Kangaroos to school & the Koala Bear is actually a bear & they throw a shrimp on the Barbie! It's not a shrimp, it's a prawn! Kangaroos are wild animals & it's only called a Koala BEAR because it looks like a living Teddy Bear!" Y/N exclaims.

"N/N, calm down." Marinette sighs.

Y/N nods, "Sorry. Oh, you said something really important on the phone, Nettie!"

Marinette blushes, "It's nothing, really."

"We'll talk about it on the way to my apartment!" Y/N smiles.

Lila starts crying, catching Y/N's attention.

"Why are you so mean?" Lila cries.

Y/N goes full savage mode.

"Oh, forgive me. I didn't realise saying hello to my Cousin makes you blush!" She sasses.

The brunette girl glares at Y/N, "How dare you hurt Lila's feelings!"

Marinette sighs, "Alya..."

Y/N cuts her cousin off & laughs, "Seriously? If she's all upset because I love my cousin, then her family hates her, which I'm not surprised with the outfit she's wearing, & don't get me started on her hair! Are you trying to look like a dog's hind leg? You'd think that a girl who's on the magazines would at least model good clothes, & know how to MODEL! Honestly, you'd think Agreste would pick a good muse. I've seen 27 different kids here with much better fashion sense than you!"

Everyone gasps at Y/N's statements about Lila. Lila ends up crying her eyes out, but Y/N keeps smirking.

"I think you've caused enough trouble, Y/N." Alya sneers.

Y/N glares, "Like all of you have caused trouble for Marinette?" in a deathly serious voice.

Marinette hides under the table. If there is anything she has learned from the family reunions, it's that you do NOT get Y/N mad.

"You know, Marinette can sue the lot of you with what you've done. I've done my research on the lot of you. You, Alya! Your blog is crap! All it's used for is spreading Miss Rossi's lies. You call yourself a truth-seeker but you only see what you want to see." Y/N hisses.

Alya goes to object when Y/n gives her a look that can shut up politicians.

"You, Max! You believed a serviette-"

Marinette interrupts, "We call them napkins here."

Y/N continues, "A napkin could gouge out your eye! Dude, you're wearing glasses! Unless the paper had acid on it, the only thing it could've hurt is your cheek, glasses, or forehead! Use that brain you were given!" She turns to the Teacher, "Bustier, you make Marinette do all the work keeping your pupils in place, when that is your job! She's been doing everything except teaching the class. My cousin is spread as thin as Vegemite should be, & you all expect her to do more than her fair share! & don't even get me started on the texts I've seen!"

Marinette's eyes widen in shock.

"Did you say texts?" Marinette whispers.

Suddenly, a purple butterfly flies into the room & lands on Y/N's belt, absorbing it as a neon butterfly symbol appearing over her face.

"Des-"

"I'mma stop you right there, Moth-butt. YOU are one of the reasons I'm mad, so I suggest you remove this little insect before I crush YOU like one. NOW!"

The class stares in shock for a while before Y/N falls against one of the desks, the butterfly symbol disappearing & the butterfly forms again to fly away when Y/N grabs it, holds it by both wings with both hands & rips it apart, killing it.

"May that be a lesson to that man." Y/N smirks, "Now, I'm taking Marinette to my place & you can bet that your life is about to become so much harder! Somewhere out there is a tree that's working tirelessly to supply you all with oxygen. Go find it & apologise! Let's go Nettie."

Y/N grabs Marinette's hand & walks away.

***

"Now that that's out of the way, What's this about a boyfriend, Nettie?"

Marinette's a blushing mess.

"You don't have to answer my questions right now, but be careful in Paris, Ladybug." Y/N smirks.

Marinette exclaims, "What!? No! I'm- I'm not-"

Y/N laughs, "Whatever you have that fools all of Paris, even the world, doesn't work on your cousin who designed supersuits. There is also E's influence."

Marinette sighs, "How?"

Y/N ignores her question.

"Speaking of which, What Do You Think You're Doing?!"

The slightly older teenager instantly switches to lecture mode, whacking Marinette with newspaper.

"You taught me everything you know, which helped me with E, & I watched you with pride as you impress Agreste with your hat & created the album cover of Jagged Stone that hits the top of the charts like a high note, & you go running around Paris rooftops in a Polk-a-dot spandex ONESIE?! I'd think you'd at least get a decent supersuit! No more! We're going to design you a REAL suit in my office! No cousin of mine is going to be running around Paris in PJS!"

Thoroughly intimidated, Marinette stares at Y/N in shock. She barely sees this woman, & out of everyone in Paris, the family that she rarely sees figures out her identity! She just keeps staring shocked while Y/N drags her to a tall office with many supersuits lined on the walls, then takes her measurements.

"I... I don't know how you found out-" Marinette starts.

Y/N cuts her off, "I'm not going to tell anyone, Nettie. I've seen your fights against the Akumas. You're in a defensive battle, & need to keep your identity secret, even from your parents. Believe me, I can keep secrets, & I can't even tell you why."

That would be telling. Marinette knows Y/N used to be a superhero fan when she was younger, & it seems to have carried into her adolescence.

"That's not it N/N, I don't think my suit can change. I didn't design it, it's magic." Marinette frowns.

Y/N pulls out pieces of paper, "That would explain your powers, including why it took my 10 tries to recognise you. You & your partners must have Perception filters. You & Cat Noir's powers do seem to be in line with luck. Clearly you have some influence over your powers, so maybe that could extend to your suit? I mean, I did see that Pharaoh report. It's obvious your powers are older than you. Maybe even inheritable, & I doubt your predecessors wore spandex PJs."

Suddenly, there's a doorbell ring.

"Who's visiting?" Y/N asks.

She walks towards the door to see a young man with green eyes and dark hair.

"Damian Wayne? What do you want this time, Demon?" Y/N scoffs.

Marinette gapes. Her cousin knew him?

"Wondering why my girlfriend wasn't at home but was here." Damian scoffs.

Y/N turns to Marinette, who's smiling sheepishly.

"He's your boyfriend?! Now I feel kinda feel bad for putting a prank in his room. Oh, uh... Don't go in your room for the next 2 weeks, Demon. Does he know?"

Damian glares at Y/N while Marinette nods.

"Good, I can talk about it with him in the room. We'll design anyway, & you start practicing manipulating the suit’s design in private. In 2 months from now, I want to invite Ladybug to E's latest collection first hand, as some of the pieces have been inspired by her & her partners, & I do not want my cousin showing up looking like she put on an oversized toddler onesie, embarrassing herself, E, & I. If you can't change it, we'll make an oversuit with some of your boyfriend's tech. Maybe a jacket or armour. You'll look amazing!" Y/N natters.

Damian gives Marinette a deadpan look.

"What is she talking about?"

Marinette sighs, "She knows I'm Ladybug."

Damian sighs in annoyance.

"Oh please! Like it was that difficult to find out who the Batfamily was, Robin. The entire world is full of idiots. The only ones that figure it out & go public about the info end up dead. Also, I'm your family, Nettie. I'm supposed to protect you. But if your out there saving Paris, I can't do that. Just be careful, Nettie."

Marinette's eyes widen with an idea. Damian notices.

"No, Angel."

Y/N giggles at the nickname given to Marinette, remembering Damian's nickname.

"Opposites really do attract."

***

Ladybug is now seen swinging from rooftop to rooftop with a jacket with a hood that goes over her ears, with the design "La Mode" printed on the back, a new Fox hero, Kitsune, beside her, E/C eyes shining.

(Not my picture, I just googled it. Add a bit more armour on it.)

"You ready, Kitsune?" Ladybug asks.

Kitsune nods, "Ready as I'll ever be, Buginette!"

[vaguely-concerned]

The Mandalorian Chapter 11; the rewatch edition

I have found a bit more enthusiasm for this one on the rewatch, so here goes!

- din snapping ‘I’m trying my best here!’ in a vaguely annoyed tone as his entire ship is going up in flames around him because he mostly doesn’t get angry as much as sulky... the height of cinema 

- I love frog husband’s clothes, because they’re in a very similar style and colour scheme to frog lady’s but also incorporate the knitwear we see on the people of trask, so it both underlines his belonging with her and implies that he’s been on this moon for quite a while, they may have been apart for some time  

especially his scarf is a darling detail and there’s a bit of contrast in texture to it next to his wife’s, it’s nice. he’s wearing a similar kind of vest to what we see on the fishermen later, too 

- I think my favourite part of this entire episode (well second after din cradling the baby against him after nearly drowning) is just the design and Vibe of the planet and especially this harbour

for one I LOVE that it’s shown that even in the middle of the day it’s dark enough that the electric lights are still on when it’s overcast (it reminds me a bit of norway during the winter, actually, when dawn just never quite breaks and then slinks off in embarrassment before it’s even noon). and there’s also the... sails? nets? hanging around looking almost like flags, which are very Aesthetic but god knows what they’re for. maybe for drying fish on in the summer? 

I think the building in the distance behind frog husband’s back here is a lighthouse? or it could be one of those towers for loading you see when they scout out the empire ship too, I suppose!

and one for my strange obsession with Texture on this show: these fabric-covered crates!!! they look exactly as dingy and moldy as you’d expect them to be in this climate, I wonder what they’re for (& I vaguely want to touch them) 

- from the sound of it din’s vibroknife is uh ‘on’ when he pokes the squid thing, and he also goes for the tentacle the furthest away from the baby <3

proof the calamari flan have been scratched up a bit during all that time in din’s pockets! (the attention to detail in this show sometimes istg) 

- this is 100% me reading too much into things again, call the overthinking police I’ll do my time meekly lol, but the boat looks a little bit like the mudhorn signet from this angle: 

again din keeps his hand on or sooo close to his blaster in this entire scene, he knows this is sketch as all hell 

a) once again I want to praise the effects team for how GOOD the aliens look in this episode holy shit and b) the hell is this dude wearing on the straps of his overalls tho 

- the dude mando (axe woves) uses his little... wrist launcher thing to shoot with to finish two off the fishermen, so my theory that they can be loaded with other things than the whistling birds for slightly less effective use (maybe without the level of honing we’ve seen din’s be able to do?) is looking good!

- din actually has quite good form when diving into the water, I’m guessing he can swim at least tolerably when not in full armour, being stabbed at from all directions, having just had his son eaten by a sea monster and also being trapped in with said sea monster (I’m a strong swimmer and I can tell you that there’s a reason they make you swim with clothes on from time to time to see how hard it is, it sucks. with metal plates strapped all over you as well? yeah good luck) people don’t tend to hit the water that gracefully without some kind of training in my experience lol. might be some of the training with the jet pack has carried over too, considering he throws himself off that cliff in chapter 12 with similar confidence?

it’s interesting that they’re once again showing us a threat where the armour doesn’t help and even hinders him. we’re so used to the ways it can make him near-invincible, but it can also drag him down (literally, in this case. aha ha ha. well if I’m not here for my own entertainment then what am I here for honestly)

- din’s voice sounding like he’s just on the verge of crying as he cradles the baby (and the sound he makes as he realizes the baby’s alive) is my kryptonite, turns out. fucking breaks my heart into tiny pieces every time, I would die for this man and he wouldn’t let me

- in support of din’s paranoia: so far this season we haven’t been able to go five minutes without someone talking about peeling the precious beskar off a mandalorian corpse, I can see why his mind was primed to move in one particular way there

- I think the fabric of din’s cape has been treated with something that makes it waterproof; the water seems to pearl on top of it rather than soak in! can you imagine how heavy it would get if it did absorb water tho christ

(a bit hard to see at this size but that’s what it looked like to me close up anyway! could also be that it’s wool and that’s why it looks that way but I prefer an elaborate sci-fi explanation here, because it doesn’t look particularly weighed down afterwards) might also explain why he doesn’t seem worried about it catching on fire when he uses the jetpack haha, maybe this is something the mandos do with fabric they’re going to use for a long time 

I also enjoy part of the gambeson/undersuit thing poking up from under the shoulder pauldron and cape; I think this is about as disheveled as we’ve seen him since immediately post-mudhorn 

- the sound mixing in this scene, where din’s breathing is layered a bit over everything else so you almost feel like you’re in the helmet with him listening to what the others are saying........ oh my GOD, it embeds you so deeply in his POV but so subtly 

- not to be biased or anything... but din and the armorer’s armour design is so vastly superior to these guys it shouldn’t even be a competition lol 

din looks like an honest to god knight in shining armour except also sci-fi western and the armorer looks like a fucking war goddess from a time beyond memory; the clone wars mandos look like high end cosplayers (eh maybe it’s just my dislike for the boobplates that has me so 😒 lol. also a lot of dudes were very shitty about that whole thing and I don’t say anything but the ‘vaguely-concerned will remember this’ telltale message pops up in the corner every time) 

moment of saltiness over: I do like the differentiation between their individual character designs 

the differences in body type and helmet design is nice! they look like a unified team, but with individuality. I suspect the ladies have those belts and their armour plates on the hips instead of the front of the thighs to emphasize the ‘female’ silhouette, which. okay fine whatever

- bo katan looks very pointedly down at the baby after saying ‘a group of religious zealots who want to return to the ancient ways’ which makes me VERY nervous for reasons I can’t quite articulate

- the mournful guitar version of the mando theme as din watches the sunset...... hmmmmngh (this might be some Symbolism happening to us folks strap in for the identity crisis he still hasn’t processed) 

- I Cannot get over din being so unimpressed by and uninterested in bo katan’s ‘retake mandalore’ sales pitch from literally the first moment dfhasdkjfhsad sorry lady kryze this man just does not do main quest shit, he’s all side quests all the time and that’s why I love him  

- as someone who after chapter 8 wrote a whole-ass fic that was wholly & exclusively about din telling the baby he’ll always come back for him... some of the shit he’s been saying this season does feel like it’s been written to mercilessly victimize me, personally and specifically 

- guessing this structure in the background is the traffic control tower! doesn’t really matter, I just thought it was neat

- this part of the soundtrack is called ‘ship o hoj, mandalorians!’, which I found incredibly charming haha (it’s ‘ship ahoy’ except how you write it in swedish, good one herr göranson)  

- bo katan is vague about who exactly the new mand’alor would be if they took back mandalore to begin with, she doesn’t specify she is planning to be the ruler until she’s already got din on the ship and in no position to refuse to help. gotta respect the grift at least lol  

I do love her voice, though, it reminds me a bit of jennifer hale as shepard

- “I need to get back to my ship, with the foundling” your honor I uh love him so fucking much 

- frog lady stroking the baby’s back a bit as she holds her hand behind him to make sure he doesn’t fall backwards while playing with the tadpole ;___________;

and also frog husband and frog lady reaching out to hold hands and frog smooching as din and yodito leave ;____________________________________________;

- when din says the exasperated “mon calamari. unbelievable” line, the baby makes that little blowing a raspberry sound he does as if to agree ‘uh-huh unbelu -- unbelly -- unbelievable dad smh’ and it is very very adorable 

- there’s quite a bit of Stuff in the concept art that didn’t make it in this time around; I wonder if maybe they cut some stuff for pacing or whatever and that’s why this episode is so short? water leaking into the cockpit of the razor crest, something that looked a bit like whaling going on on the docks and more spaceships taking off (maybe there were originally meant to be some smaller ships defending the big empire one?), there’s quite a bit here  

[quartzcraft-mc]

A Tale of Foxblossom

[Word Count - 1637]

For our Pride Month Competition, we hosted a few compeitions including an Writing Competition! Thunderbird25 was voted for 1st place with their amazing piece called ‘A Tale of Foxblossom’. Thunder wrote a lovely story including some of the other player’s OC’s within the story as well as their own, depicting a normal day on the server!

VVV Read Below!!! VVV

--------

She stared at the map in her hands. Then squinted. Pressing her face to the worn paper, she mentally calculated how far it was from here, in Foxblossom, to the railway line west of her current spot.

It was maybe a thousand blocks? But the ground wasn't totally flat- she'd walked the distance and left her both winded and wet, having crossed through a swamp and back- If she went as the crow flies- no, should she? That would mean digging a tunnel, and who knew how long that would take.

This was making her brain hurt, but that might have been the eye strain.

With a deep sigh, she picked up her diamond shovel. Fully enchanted - of course, it was her – but it had several thin cracks running through the wood handle and extended underneath the blade. She should make a new one; this would break soon. Future her problem!

She had a plan. She would mark out a road five blocks wide and dig in a straight line until she met the railway.

This was going to take forever.

Thunder wasn’t entirely sure why she'd decided to dig a road about a thousand blocks long, only that she'd woken up one day and had had nothing to do. She… didn't like to stay still. Better to be productive, to do things with her mind and hands. It kept her occupied, kept her from fretting, from worrying. Of course, it helped to have a schedule.

Not that she didn’t have lots to do- she had her shop at the mall to stock, resources to gather, the Lorebary to manage –

But she was just so tired. Her sleep had been abysmal recently, filled with nightmares and strange images. Sometimes it was of her home, going up in flames. Other times, it was of the End, looking into a memory of the people there- those dreams, she suspected, may actually be real. On the other hand, maybe it was her magic reacting to the magic in her elytra. But, of course, who knew if it was real or not? Regardless, she was feeling a bit crummy and needed to just go. Do something mindnumbing and repetitive. It had helped when she first went to the swamp. Maybe it would help now? Tire herself out enough that she could actually sleep for once?

The logistics were a little tricky- but she figured she could dig a small initial tunnel then widen it later. Getting up at the crack of dawn was a bit of a struggle – it was bloody freezing, her breath misting and turning to ice as she breathed. She could see Annika at her farm, taking her animals out to graze – the small figure whistled and gave a brief wave as she turned back to her cows. Thunder smiled, giving a wave back before she trudged towards the town centre.

Her boots crunched on the dirt and gravel path, loud and intrusive in the early morning. It felt like she was disturbing the stillness that hung in the air, like she was the only one here, awake. There was no breeze – thankfully since the temperature was certainly cold enough! The land was asleep. She wasn't entirely sure why she'd chosen to come to such a cold place – it was a far cry from her homeland and the Nether, places made of fire, of heat, of never-ending summers. Winters were considered a distant dream, a fantasy in the relentless land of sweat and discomfort and danger. She still remembered her first bushfire – on the outskirts of her city, the smoke staining the sky black with ash falling from the sky like snow. It was terrifying, the thousand block fire-front creeping ever closer; would they lose their homes like the other towns? It had lasted a good week, with casualties and refugees streaming in from the surrounding cities; lives had been spared, homes lost.

It was a stray storm, traveling south from the battered northern regions, that turned the tide.

Smoke had hung in the air for weeks afterward; it was in her hair, her clothes. Soon, it was considered odd to not smell smoke; fires were commonplace. But here? The cold felt like it gripped the land in a lover's embrace, a different kind of danger. One that she wasn't used to.

She had reached the edge of the town center, her mind running away from her. Focus, now. Yes, her self-appointed task. She tended to use whatever supplies she had on hand - birch and oak planks, gathered by herself, with extra bought from the mall. She figured she’d work as she went, but this would take a while. The road would start next to the town map and visitor’s log- cutting directly west, through the birch and oak forest, the swamp, and the spruce forest.

Shoveling out the dirt was easy, under the effects of the nearby beacon and her enchanted shovel. She just needed to shore up the sides as she went- cobble worked well enough, and enough was lying around. The stone was tricker- her enchanted pickaxe still made short work of the stone, carving deep gashes in the earth before being scraped away- but it was backbreaking work, and she quickly tired. Falling into a routine was easy- it was similar to carving out her swamp base, both relaxing and mind-numbing at the same time.

She'd dug out the first stretch of the tunnel, taking a few days. It was maybe a third of the way. She'd just finished putting up the torches - she'd dealt with enough mobs with her recent adventures, she just wanted a break!- when footsteps echoed down the rough tunnel. A soft purple gleam in the darkness caught her eye when she turned, and the footsteps got closer-

“Thunder! Wow, this is a long tunnel. How long have you been building it for?" Marina's cheerful voice echoed off the tunnel walls, bouncing and amplifying. She grinned, wearing enchanted netherite and carrying a complete set of enchanted netherite tools - Thunder's own tools were looking a tad shabby at the moment.

Thunder paused, standing up to stretch and rest her arms for the moment. They hurt, aching fiercely, with nicks and scratches from where she'd been hit by flying debris and her own occasional clumsiness. Then, scratching the back of her head, she shrugged with a smile. "What day is it?"

“Sunday.”

"Day three, then." The other woman blinked. “Woooow, that’s a while. Are you going to the railway?”

"Yeah, I figured it might be handy to have a railway connecting Foxblossom to the track. Didn't think it would take this long though," Thunder laughed, sheepish. She shrugged. "I still need to put down a proper path, though. I was planning on using oak wood and birch."

“Oh, okay! Would you like some help, nya?” Marina tilted her head to the side, swirling her pickaxe.

Thunder blinked. She was offering to help dig the rest of the way? It was still over five hundred blocks. “I… wouldn’t say no?”

"Nya, of course, dear! What do you need me to do?"

She was too kind. Showing Marina, the tunnel's dimensions was easy. Then the woman set off, digging with a single-minded focus that was honestly impressive. Thunder had finished placing the wood path down for the first section, and turning back to the next chunk of the track, she found-

A massive tunnel, carved through the nearby hill, sunlight filtering through to the other side of the tunnel. It glinted off the swamp water and Marina's armour, catching her eye. The other woman was already constructing a path across the water out of stone and brick. It looked strong enough to support a rudimentary path and would work well enough. There was idle chatter as they worked to build the bridge across, the sun making its slow march across the sky. Thunder only noticed when she stood up to stretch and wipe her forehead on her sleeve. It was hard work, and her armour was being safely stored within her inventory. A vast array of colours were splashed across the sky, the sun painting the clouds a mix of orange, pink and purple hues.

It was- it was beautiful. The light filtered through the spindly leaves of the spruce trees, casting soft, growing shadows across the ground, dancing in the water near them. Clouds were painted varying shades of pink, ringed by bright, golden light. Water lapped softly against the edge of the bridge, the wind slowly picking up. Thunder placed her pickaxe on the wood next to her, swinging her legs over the side. The water was cold, almost shockingly so against her bare feet, and the night was slowly encroaching on them. She could just hear the call of a phantom starting to prowl the sky and the low, baritone moan of a zombie. The gurgle of a drowned and the skittering of a nearby spider. Danger, reasons to go home.

Marina plonked down next to her, giving her a smile, turning to watch the sunset. Fierce, burning happiness sparked through her, from her freezing toes to her stomach, to her heart and head. Things might be a bit messy and may not be okay, but she was so fucking glad to be here. To be tired after a long day's work, with a friend next to her, enjoying one of the best sunsets she'd seen in a long time. Once the sun had set, the sky a deep, indigo purple, she'd stood up, offering Marina a hand. They'd made their way back to town, parting ways with a soft goodbye. It seemed… wrong, almost, to disturb this strange feeling of peace.

It would take a few days of work to finish the road. But she slept easier that night.

[lemondropsssss]

Jaskier spends what feels like an eternity wrapped up in Geralt’s arms. He hadn’t expected the embrace to last so long, but each time he goes to pull away Geralt makes a glorious growling sound and tightens his grip and really, how is Jaskier supposed to argue with that? He feels safe for what he realizes is the first time in a long time. Geralt’s scent hasn’t changed, is still the same leather-sword oil-horse-musk that is somehow intoxicating. So he tucks himself under his Witcher’s chin and just breathes, and to his amazement Geralt lets him- no, wants him , is holding him as if he’s important, and it warms him from the inside out.

“We should get back to the house,” Geralt says eventually, voice rumbling in his chest as he pulls back and looks the scant inch down at him. Jaskier steels himself for whatever pity might await him when he meets his gaze but there is none. Just a kind of calm fondness Jaskier hasn’t seen before. “I don’t like leaving Fiona alone for too long.”

“She’s fourteen, I think she can handle a hot mug on her own by now,” Jaskier mutters, not caring that Geralt can absolutely hear him, but he steps away all the same.

Geralt grunts back, but Jaskier can tell he’s smiling. It’s all in the eyes crinkles, after all. “C’mon, say your goodbyes so we can go.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes but does go give Roach one last pat, reminding her that she is practically perfect in every way and such a good horse and better than Geralt and it’s not as if he actually walks anywhere, unlike some very good horses I could name. Geralt’s smile grows to almost-visible-to-the-naked-eye, but he soon pulls Jaskier away with a muttered, How many times do I have to tell you to stop trying to fuck my horse, and the exasperatedly fond look on his face makes Jaskier’s stomach swoop.

He’s still angry. Still sad. Still doesn’t believe him, is still waiting for the moment Geralt will turn around and leave him alone in the dust like so many times before. It will hurt when he goes, surely, but at least this time Jaskier will be prepared for it. He’s built himself a life outside Geralt, his world won’t come to a screeching halt when he leaves. And maybe if Jaskier proves he can handle himself without his scary Witcher around, said scary Witcher would be more inclined to visit. But he does like this feeling. Walking side by side again, shoulders brushing companionably, how achingly familiar it all is.

The front window is vacant when they pass, and Jaskier assumes Ciri’s gone up to bed courtesy of Bea’s sleepy tea. He’s surprised then to find the teen sat up on the countertop, potato in one hand and paring knife in the other. She has a look of fierce concentration on her face as she works carefully, the tip of her tongue clenched between her teeth. Bea is close by, up to her elbows in flour and wrestling with a shaggy bread dough while still keeping a close eye on both Ciri and the pot bubbling over the hearth; the woman is a master, and Jaskier stops to watch her with a smile on his face.

“Geralt!” While he’d been distracted by the domestic scene, Geralt had come in behind him and was now crossing the room with the softest look Jaskier has ever seen on his face.

“G’morning, cub.” Geralt presses a kiss to her temple, and Jaskier has to stop himself from staring; both at the pet name and the very public display of affection. Public being only two other people of course, but that was still rather public to Geralt of Rivia. Ciri must be used to the attention for she pays it no mind, which confounds him even more. “Julian said you didn’t sleep well. More of the dreams?” He tucks an errant lock of hair behind her ear and it’s the thoughtlessness of the motion that stands out to Jaskier.

This is a kind of casual and easy affection he’d only seen- well, that he’d only seen with him. Usually in a liminal time; in a shared bed some fuzzy between awake and sleep, or after the sixth ale of  a long night, pressed together in a dark corner of a tavern. And Geralt would sweep a hand across his, or press their knees together under the table, or curl a protective arm around his waist while they slept. Seeing that affection here, in the bright light of morning is something he wasn’t prepared for, and he takes a seat at the table lest his legs fail him.

Ciri and Geralt are oblivious to his confusion; she’s showing him how her knife skills have improved, and he’s watching her with a kind of fond fascination Jaskier’s never seen before but finds he quite enjoys. He looks up suddenly, their eyes meet, and Geralt’s expression turns to something more Jaskier can’t even begin to place. This man who gives affection freely and without pause is not the Geralt familiar to him.

It isn’t long before Bea finishes setting out a proper morning meal, and Jaskier can’t help but feel a crippling domesticity as they sit down to eat. Their breakfast is porridge with honey and cream, sausages, and the good brown bread that Bea has refused to ever share the recipe for, no matter how much coin Jaskier offers her. She doesn’t sit to eat, which doesn’t surprise him, but she does continue to work on whatever lunch is going into the pot over the hearth.

It’s a good breakfast, and good company. Ciri does wonders towards greasing the conversation, and Geralt says more than a few grunts in passing, which Jaskier considers a monumental feat. But they came to him for a reason and needs must, so Jaskier steers the conversation back towards the business that brought them to his doorstep.

“When you came to me at the University, you said you needed help. What kind? Money, clothes, food?” It’s blunt, but Jaskier would rather know now what the price for this visit will be.

Geralt looks thrown for a moment before he answers. “All of the above. We’re heading North, towards Kaer Morhen. We need,” He clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the actual asking part of asking for help, “Money, yes, and winter clothes. Another mount. Fiona needs a better disguise; cutting her hair, dye maybe- maybe even for both of us.” He makes a face at that and Jaskier wants to laugh; Geralt always did love his hair. “We stand out, it makes us too easy to track. Nilfguaard is-” He cuts off, worried gaze wavering over Ciri, which she huffs at and continues in his place.

“Nilgfuaard is hunting us. Me, technically. They’ve been tracking me since Cintra. And they’ve killed everyone who’s tried to help me.” She doesn’t meet either of their eyes. “They’ll hurt anyone to get to me. Geralt is taking us to Yspaden to meet Yennefer, and then to Kaer Morhen together where we’ll be safe.” Ciri is somber and serious for a girl her age, and Jaskier notices she tucks her hands into her lap out of view.

His compassion for her is quickly overtaken by the creeping feeling of something cold sliding down his spine. Poor stupid little Julian who never learns, the voice inside him taunts, He has his child, has the great mage herself, what use is a washed up old bard to a Witcher? All he needs from you is money, he said it himself. That’s what this morning was, the idea twists around inside him and it hurts, physically hurts him to think it but he can’t stop, Nothing genuine, just a way to keep poor stupid little Julian on his leash. He doesn’t- couldn’t actually care for you.

“Right well, ah-” Jaskier’s voice is hard to his own ears, so he clears his throat before trying again. “That shouldn't be any trouble. We should ah-” His mouth runs dry and he’s just trying to get through this as quickly as possible so he can flee and maybe hide from his houseguests for a good few hours in the tub. But no, he is a mature and reasonable adult who is pleasant to his houseguests and who does not cry in front of them. Geralt is watching him closely with an odd look on his face, and Jaskier feels uncomfortably seen. “We should armor you too, you’re no use to anyone at all as a Witcher with no armour and only one sword.”

“Of no use to anyone at all?” Geralt rumbles, one annoyed eyebrow raised in Jaskier’s direction.

“The last time I checked you can still bleed, O Great and Mighty Witcher, and that shirt you’re wearing wouldn’t stop a butter knife.” For a moment they sound like they used to, and it doesn’t shatter his heart at all to hear. He clears his throat, trying to force down the hard lump of familiarity threatening to choke him. “We can get you a mount easy enough. I assume you’ll want one more Fiona-sized?” He winks at Ciri and she grins. “That shouldn’t be an issue, I have friends at the horse market who owe me a favor. Or several, as the case may be. As for clothes, we can go today to the seamstress on-”

“Pardon, Master Julian?” It’s Bea, a few paces away from the table. Jaskier knows she wouldn’t interrupt without cause, and gestures for her to continue. “You may want to dress the child down in things that look more travel-worn as to blend in. Fresh made clothes might fit well, but they’ll draw attention off the beaten path. I still have some of my Piotr’s things, I could fit them to her size easy enough. They’re a bit battered, but well made. She’ll need a new cloak though, I don’t think his will be warm enough for where you’re going.”

“Bea, you are a blessing from the Gods,” Jaskier beams, mentally kicking himself for not thinking of that. Of course they shouldn’t buy new things, fresh clothes are like a beacon to bandits on the road. Stupid, stupid Jaskier. “Auntie, do you have anything we can dye Fiona’s hair with?” He sends Ciri a reassuring smile across the table. “Your hair is beautiful, little one, but your Witcher is right; it draws too many eyes to you.”

Bea considers for a moment before she nods. “I’ve got a walnut dye that should do for her, aye.”

“Grand, you see to that, and I’ll go see a man about a horse. Huh. For the first time, possibly ever, I actually mean that.” He’s out of his chair and halfway across the room before he’s stopped by an oh-so familiar growl.

“I’ll go with Julian.”

“No,” He’s saying before he even turns around,  “You’ll stay here with Fiona and get your hair colored.” Geralt looks like he’s about to argue so Jaskier beats him to it. “Or do you not remember that everyone on the continent is looking for you? If you’re not seen by a Nilfguaardian, you’re seen by a spy, or an informant, or some sad random asshole looking to score the reward purse. So you’ll be staying here, and getting your beauty treatment.”

There’s a stunned little look on his face that makes Jaskier more pleased than it should. He leaves them there, sure Bea will keep them on track and out of trouble, and starts the walk down the street towards the horse markets.

Jaskier wraps the heavy knitted scarf- a present from Bea on his last birthday- around his neck to keep out the first chills of autumn, but that does nothing to keep the ice from his heart. It began as a cool pinprick during breakfast, Geralt is taking us to Yspaden to meet Yennefer, and then to Kaer Morhen together where we’ll be safe and has shifted into a sharp spike of Yennefer, Kaer Morhen, safe that he doesn’t know what to do with.

He remembers the first time he’d asked where Geralt went in winter. He’d been twenty-two, or maybe twenty-four, and as with most stories they’d been drunk. He had wanted to invite Geralt back to Oxenfurt with him, but then Geralt had told him of the crumbling Witcher’s fortress, and the brothers he met there each year. He understood, when Geralt said it was the Witchers sanctuary and not a place for troublesome bards; when they were out in the world, Witchers could never relax, never take a deep breath for fear of killing or being killed. Of course they would need a place without humans, without others, where they could be free for a few months a year. Jaskier was never hurt that Geralt did not share that place with him- if anything, he loved that Geralt had somewhere safe and warm to rest his weary bones each year.

And Jaskier is a grown ass man, he will not begrudge a child being allowed to her father’s home but. But Yennefer. Jaskier knows about the sacking, he knows the last mages to set foot in Kaer Morhen were the ones who brought it crumbling down. If Geralt is bringing Yennefer that must mean they’re together. It will be Yennefer Geralt presents to his brothers, Yennefer who will walk the halls, explore the library, spend months curled up with her lover and their child and-

The honey-colored memory of their early morning embrace is souring in his mind; like black ink spilled over the image and corrupting it until there is nothing left but the acrid feel of Geralt’s arms around him and the burning knowledge that he was going to be left behind again. The promise of the morning means nothing now- Geralt will leave him for Yennefer like he always does, and Jaskier will let him like he always does, and the status quo will remain ever stable.

Jaskier should learn to say no when old not-friends show up at his doorstep, he really should.

He quickens his pace- if he hurries the sale, he might be able to convince Filip to take an early lunch and they can get spectacularly drunk in the hayloft like stupid teenagers instead of doing their actual jobs.

-

here are parts one two three four five. and the full story is on ao3 here 

[lolabean1998]

This Better Work Part 7

Sweet Pea X OC

Summery; Hey guys, not sure how well this is going to go but I originally put it on Wattpad so its way long, but hopefully its not horrendous. Let me know what you think! So, it follows the story line kind of, it’s not exact but I have tried and it follows my OC Ali as she navigates through the hell that is Riverdale. Whilst struggling with financial, social and romantic difficulties, she has the added pressure of keeping up with school work and bonus of being thrown into the frightening world of the criminal underground.

Side Note; None of the gifs or pictures I use are mine, I’m not talented or smart enough to even begin an attempt at making my own. Thank you to those who have such abilities and if you don’t want me using them then please let me know so I can remove them for you. 

Word Count; 

"Hey Ali! Ali Cat! Why the hell are you siding with the Southside scumbags?" Reggie bellowed down the corridor at Ali as she threw her unneeded Chemistry and Geography books in her locker. 

"Really Reggie?" She questioned sternly, slamming her locker and spinning to face the jumped-up Bulldog. Being met by the whole squad, her arms folded as her eyebrows raised in amusement. 

"Are you serious? You got the whole damn squad out just to confront me about a HOODIE? A FUCKING HOODIE REGINALD? I'm not taking anyone’s side. I'm just trying to keep the peace. Something you clearly aren't capable of!" Ali bellowed. How dare he challenge me! 

"You need to get your affairs in order and get your head out of your arse, IT'S NOT A HAT!" Ali warned before slamming past him cutting through the see of Jocks. 

"I'm not the one wearing their clothes. That hoodie warm is it? Looks more like a snake skin if you ask me." He spat stopping Ali dead in her tracks. Her bag dropping to the ground as the last string of her temper snapped. She spun quickly on her heels storming back down the corridor towards Reggie. Her hand reached out grabbing his throat. Slamming him against the lockers. 

"Yes. Its very warm. But so is the River Vixens t-shirt underneath." Ali growled through gritted teeth. Her faces inches from his. 

"I live on the border so I'm neither one nor the other. I'm Both! Remember that before you open your mouth next time." Ali snarled. Her fingers curling round Reggies throat increasing the fear and disgust in his eyes. 

However, this didn't last long. A pair of strong arms wrapped around Ali's waist heaving her up and pulling her away from Reggie. 

"Settle down Ali Cat you nearly got yourself expelled." Jughead cautioned as he placed her on one of the sofas in the common room. All eyes on her. Betty and Toni arrived seconds later carrying Ali's bag. 

"Damn girl that was bad ass!" Toni exclaimed with an impressed smirk as she slumped besides Ali on the sofa. Ignoring the warning glare Jughead shot her.

“Don’t encourage her.” Jughead groaned.

"I leave you alone for one minute and THIS is what you do?" Ali smirked handing Sweet Pea a beer before kneeling beside him to look at the boiler he had just stripped. He looked over at her with a boyish grin plastered across his face, before taking a large swig of his drink. Turning back to the boiler pieces scattered in front of them.

"I had to see what was broken. I know where it all goes. I'm not an idiot!" Sweet Pea replied nonchalantly, a cocky twinkle in his eyes. 

"Besides who are you to judge me? I'm not the one that nearly got myself kicked out for standing up for a bunch of actual gang members." He smirked shoving Ali's arm lightly. He loved spending the weekends helping her around the garage and fixing up her old run-down house. She made him laugh and he swore whenever he was around her, he felt as if his luck would change forever. But that was him. He knew there was no way she would feel the same way. They were friends. End of.

"You too good to say gangsters now?" Ali teased, her usually bright smile was brighter than ever and this time, it was real. 

"You know you've taken this apart only to find the whole damn thing needs replacing. Right?" She asked after a moments glance over the corroded parts.

"Yeah I know." Sweet Pea sighed. Knowing full well that this meant Ali and her family going without heating. 

"I'll think of something Ali Cat. Hey if worse comes to worst my caravan is always warm and I have room for three more." He smiled sympathetically. His words making Ali chuckle for a moment before she fell silent. Her eyes trained on the parts in front of her as if they would run away if she blinked. 

"Hey, Princess. It's going to be ok." Sweet Pea soothed, turning Ali's face to look directly at him. 

Her eyes welled with tears. For the first time ever, her guard was down. Her walls had fallen. There was no longer the endless reals of hope and joy that once resided in her eyes. Her bright, contagious smile had faded and all that was left was the fear and misery she had always hidden so well. Sweet Pea's heart broke at the sight of her feeling so vulnerable. Before he knew it he had wrapped her up in an enormous, warm bear hug. His chin resting on top of her head. His hand wrapped in her hair whilst the other pulled her deeper into the hug. He could feel the tears soaking through his t-shirt and onto his skin. They sat there for a moment. But when Ali pulled away her bright shining smile was back, her eyes filled with false happiness as she looked up at him.

"With all do respect Sweet Pea. You barely fit in that caravan. How would we ever fit around your giant ass." She replied, the thick sassy sarcasm flooding her voice like nothing had happened. Ali felt a rogue tear fall down her rosy cheek. Swiping it away with her finger tips, staring at it a moment before flicking it away. 

"Ugh gross I'm leaking. Think its time for my M.O.T." She complained. 

"Want a cup of tea?" She offered making her way to the kitchen before Sweet Pea had a chance to reply. 

Good job Ali. Cry in front of everyone like a fucking wimp. Good one dick head. Ali scolded herself, pottering around the kitchen for Tea and mugs.

"You know you don't have to be like that Ali. It's ok to cry." Sweet Pea soothed from the doorway.

"Why because I'm a girl? Because that's what girls do? I have nothing to be sad about. I have a roof over my head, amazing friends, a loving family and I'm a jack of all trades." Ali snapped. Who was he to say she was allowed to cry? 

"My tears are pointless and selfish. There are people in the world with far less than me so why should I allow myself to cry?" She continued, her words taking Sweet Pea back a step. 

"Ali I was just trying to help. No one, male or female should have to be an emotionless robot. Its ok to feel." He reasoned, trying to defuse the situation.

"So, NOW I’m an emotionless robot. Oh gee thanks Sweet Pea. I feel much better now!" Ali thundered, her eyes flooding with red mist as she glared aggressively at Sweet Pea. 

"You should go." She growled.

"I was just trying to help! You were sad so I tried to comfort you! How am I the bad guy?" Sweet Pea retaliated. Arms flailing angrily as he spoke. But Ali was a stone-cold bitch, it would take more than that to persuade her.

"I DIDN'T FUCKING ASK FOR YOUR HELP THOUGH DID I SWEET PEA?! I TOLD YOU BEFORE I DIDN’T NEED A KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOUR THEN AND I SURE AS HELL DON’T NEED ONE NOW SO GET THE FUCK OUT! DON’T STAY WHERE YOU CLEARLY AREN’T WANTED!" Ali roared, her vocal cords screaming at her in pain with every syllable.

"Wow." Sweet Pea stepped back, his word quiet and upset. His heart crumbling to the floor at her last words. 

"You're right. I don’t know why I bothered helping such a pompous, stuck up Northsider anyway." He snapped before spinning sharply on his heels and strutting out the house. Slamming the front door in frustration as he went.

"I mean, what a wanker! Can you believe the balls on that over-sized shoe lace?!" Ali ranted. She had been ranting to Cheryl for the last hour whilst they all made cookies for the local homeless shelter. 

"I told you Ali. Serpents are the scourge of Riverdale." Cheryl stated putting the last batch of cookies in the oven.

"Oh yeah? That including Topaz?" Ali smirked raising an inquisitive eyebrow. She had seen the two girls eyeing each other up all week at school. 

"Pffft please. She's Queen of the hobos". Cheryl snorted turning her face away from Ali so she wouldn't see how badly she was lying.

"Really? That's not what your eyes have been saying." Ali teased knowing full well what was going on in her best friends head. "You've been giving her your come to bed eyes all week." 

Ali's phone went off before she had a chance to reply. The song Sharp-dressed Man playing loudly from her jet black, well armoured Iphone. 

"What the fuck does Hiram Lodge want?" Ali mumbled wiping her hands before picking up her phone. 

"Hello Mr. Lodge, how can I help?" She answered politely.

"Ah Ali. I was wondering if you could do me a small favour? Unfortunately, I cant ask anyone else to do it as I cant have anyone catching word of this. Is that understood?" He asked carefully. He was up to something and since Ali needed the money, he knew she'd do it no questions asked.

"Of-course Mr. Lodge. I'll come round later to discuss this in further detail. Shall we say 6pm at the Pembroke?" Ali replied. It wasn’t the first time she'd done something under the radar like this for the Lodges. She knew the drill. 

"Perfect. I'll see you then. Oh and Ali, it is my understanding that you are in need of a new boiler. Is that correct?" He quickly stopped her before she hung up.

"Um. Yes Mr. Lodge, may I ask why?" Ali questioned curiously. "I'm sending a boiler round tomorrow. Someone will be there to fit it in at 11 o’clock sharp." He answered happily before hanging up.

"What was that all about?" Cheryl pondered, watching Ali jot something down on her phone.

"Hiram Lodge has a job for me and he's paying me with a boiler." Ali puzzled staring at her phone.

"That's not weird at all." Cheryl commented just as her phone began buzzing like crazy. 

"Oh my god what is with people today." She muttered grabbing her phone. "Yes, dear cousin." 

"Cheryl hi, I was wondering if you and Ali fancied going dancing at the White Wyrm tonight? I don’t want to go on my own." Betty responded sheepishly.

"Ali, want to go out dancing at the Wyrm tonight? Betty has something going on there." Cheryl muttered to Ali, her phone pressed to her chest muffling their voices. 

"Yeah I'm down providing we're drinking. I should be finished by about 7 so I'll come back here, and we can all get ready and eat at mine." Ali agreed, she needed a release.

"Be at Ali's for 7 we can get ready here. Toodles." Cheryl instructed before hanging up. 

"Ready to get the last batch of cookies out and hit the road?" She asked, skipping over to the oven when Ali nodded, her eyebrows still knitted in concern. 

"I'll grab the containers for them." Ali muttered disappearing to the storage room by the bathroom.

[nytreecx]

Marinette is not a Bad Designer

Alright… I’ve seen one-too many bitter posts by fans of Miraculous Ladybug disappointed by Marinette’s deep-down costume choice to not put my thoughts on the matter forward.

When considering a design in textiles, we are taught to critically observe it through two lenses: functional and aesthetic. Simply put: how it serves its purpose and its overall appearance (usually how visually appealing it is). Despite often clashing and getting in the way of one-another, they sometimes are easier to see as concepts that blend into one another. In water colour, if you paint red and blue next to each other, they are going mix to create purple. (I blather when I explain these concepts, so if you wish to get to the analysis of Marinette and Adrien’s designs skip ahead to ***)

As an example for this outlook, I’ll use a cushion on a lounge. Its functions are to provide lumbar support; help maintain good posture; filling the gaps of a comfortable sitting space the lounge may have missed; to last continuous uses; and to complement and accentuate the design of the lounge. This means function will control the shape, size, density, and – to a degree – the fabric choices such as category and type (e.g. woven and cotton respectively) of the cushion, and provide a starting point for the aesthetics via the lounge’s aesthetics. The cushion’s aesthetic purposes on a plain lounge are to create interesting and appealing focal points; on a patterned lounge, they provide plain yet grounding points to bring focus and calm to an otherwise busy design. Aesthetics therefore controls the shape, fabric type and pattern (e.g. cotton or plush, and floral respectively), and notions such as piping and buttons. I have most likely missed a plethora of points, but I am aware I am usually long winded and am an amateur.

Of course, some designs need to heavily lean to one side of planning. A wall-hanging is a piece of art using textiles mediums; therefore it will have dependence on aesthetics planning to be successful. Its function is simply to look good. A tent taken on a camping trip, however, is going to be all purpose. It wants to keep you safe from the elements, and not take up too much room in your car or weight in your backpack. If the tent is made from chiffon, with bolts of cloth dedicated to frills and decorative drapes, it will be bulky; be even more difficult to stuff into its bag than your sleeping-bag; tear easily on the first bit of nature it comes in contact with; and metaphorically take on the properties of fairy-floss when it rains, not only drenching you, but keeping you wet and trapped as the delicate and light fabric becomes heavy and collapses on top of you and whatever unfortunate soul tried to foolishly take refuge in it. One may even say its aesthetic purpose it to look durable. The only acceptation I can think of is a camouflage design, where a specific pattern and frills that mimic leaves are necessary.

***

Through this, I have hopefully illustrated that the relationship between function and aesthetics is one of give and take. Adrien does not give a damn about this. His father may be a famous designer, and whether or not he has shared a few tips of the trade, this boy grew up on manga. He is going to hit this super-hero costume with as much magic-girl that his kawaii desu ne heart possesses. He’s got cuffs; a long-ass tail that has its own pose in the transformation sequence; paw prints on the boots; unnecessary seams and piping; morphed pupils (that may be an automatic change to give him night-vision); and a big bell that rings, for crying out loud. The only functions I can see are steel-caps, pockets, removability of the tail, and claws. Even then I suspect these were mainly chosen for the aesthetics. Even his seams are what you would call aesthetic seams. It’s a suit made from magic. You don’t need seams.

Marinette, on the other hand, is focused on the function of this being a superhero costume. She knows she will be going into battle. Taking leaf out of Edna Mode’s book and then the whole library, she forgoes the iconic billowing cape and anything else that would hinder or even put her in danger her while fighting. Seams, zipper tags, cuffs, tails, and bells can be exploited by getting grabbed by a villain or accidentally caught on an edge or pointy debris while dodging or escaping. She only has an allusion to antenna as ribbons rather long poles sticking out of her head will basically become handles for whomever she is fighting. The only fault I can see is keeping her pigtails (*SPOILER* which we know she can change from the leak of Kitty Noir *SPOILER OVER*). Even then they may serve to create some kind of barrier from the back for her miraculous. She doesn’t need such things as steel caps because her magical fabric is already all the armour she needs.

I’ve had fun creating alternative costumes for Marinette. With function in mind, and wanting to reference the beetle, I added plate armour to the front to mimic the underside of the ladybird; angled spikes on the arms and legs like many beetles have to catch blades and cause damage; white spots like on their head on a black helmet that conceals her identity better; and the red and black shell only as a detachable shield on the back. Apart from being a design more appropriate for an AU, I forgot one important thing that all these features I wanted as tributes to the source material took away. Marinette knew that a superhero needs to be recognisable. Hence, this is the goal of the aesthetics.

The simplicity of the fabric’s pattern is to be iconic. What’s the most salient part of a ladybird? The black spots on their red shell. What pattern has she chosen? Exactly that. She is supposed to be a hero of the people. Someone every citizen can recognise as she swings by so fast she’s a blur. Parisians are going to be attacked so often that the red with black polka-dots needs to inspire feelings of safety, so that when they see her they don’t instantly think she’s akuma they need to seek shelter from. When she rescues terrified and flustered citizens, or toddlers crying for their mother, she needs to be recognised immediately; to create a focus point for the panicked mind; and to inspire peace and a sense that it will all be okay now that she’s here. A plain pattern in bold colours is the easiest way to do this. Adrien has even done this with the almost unanimously black outfit and silhouette alluding to a cat with the ears and tail. Her simplicity is necessary BOTH functionally and aesthetically.

*SPOILER*

In the event they swap kwamiis, they retain their design philosophies, and yet are influenced by someone they love and care about’s take on it. They need to hold onto the established iconic design the other has come up with, yet express they are someone else with their own unique take on it. Adrien keeps the iconic spots as the main feature, but adds panels of black to accentuate the pattern; give a nod to the actual ratio of black to spots on the ladybird; suggest armour; and to add depth and accentuate muscle anatomy. Marinette turns the bells and whistles into lines on the fabric to remove the danger of them while honouring them. Her plat imitates a tail instead of a more-easily-grappled belt and the collar tells of her Chinese heritage. In the event of the mouse fiasco, she needs to alter her design philosophy from hero to “omg please don’t find out I’m Ladybug”. Her colours are the usual palette she wears to inspire Marinette thoughts for Chat; her hair resembles mouse ears and are definitely and defiantly not Ladybug’s piggy tails; and her stripes and spikes, and tail create the farce that she is an inexperienced hero by forgoing the ungrabblable and to be easily recognised as the animal of their miraculous holder attitude Ladybug adopts.

*SPOILER OVER*

Being a designer isn’t just “Ima add frills for days cuz that shit’s tight”; knowing that busy patterns next to each other clash; making things look visually appealing or stunning; or even knowing what’s hot this season. It’s about making something for and around a purpose. And through this, Marinette can indeed retain her title of “good designer”. Thank you for reading my one thousand and five-hundred word essay. I hope this has enlightened some confused and vexed fans.

[jeaanmoreau]

[jaime x sansa] thin ice 2/?

is this a chapter? let’s call it that. look at me, actually continuing a fic i said i’d continue

cont. of thin ice

There had been loss.

Too much loss. The army of the dead were unyielding and incessant, and it seemed that no matter how much smoke went up in the air, how many shrieks faded into the vast darkness that surrounded them, more spawned in their place, as easily replaced as water in a river.

And as the dead went, so did the living.

Yohn Royce, Podrick Payne, The Hound, to name a few.

People who, at one point or another in her life, had changed it for the better. Had stepped up and protected her and aided her and were now gone because of a battle nobody wanted to fight but everybody had to.

It was with stony silence that she allowed Jon to address their troops, their folk, the lords and ladies holed up in Winterfell, feeling more bleak by the minute. With stony silence and composed air; she was the Lady of Winterfell. They will not see me break.

And so they didn’t.

But Arya– stupid, stubborn Arya, was insistent on going out into the fighting. Gods knew her sister was a trained killer nowadays, but she was still her sister, and Sansa felt utterly helpless as she stood back and let everybody she loved put their lives on the line.

It made something ugly and constricting claw its way up her throat as she walked into the sept; it felt colder these days. Colder than it had ever been, and she was shivering under the thick furs wrapped around her.

Sansa didn’t know how long she was in there, praying. Praying, and praying and praying, as if perhaps if she did it a thousand different ways, the Seven would hear her.

At some point, she started crying.

In the darkness and solace of the Winterfell sept – unused and unvisited by the Northerners – she allowed the tears to fall; she allowed herself to crumble where nobody would see her, where she didn’t have to be a pillar of strength for all who relied on her.

Lady had been with her. Sansa realised, as she looked up through bleary eyes to reach for her wolf’s fur, the comforting warmth much needed in this moment, that she’d left.

Even Lady had left.

Worn out and exhausted and with a knot in her throat, Sansa prayed through the tears until she couldn’t cry any longer and the sticky tracks down her cheeks were all that remained of her lapse in fortitude.

“Lady Sansa?”

She’d barely had time to look up at the sound of the voice when Lady reappeared next to her, to settle her head on her lap and look up at her with gentle eyes. As if she’d brought him with her. Sniffing back, Sansa praised the darkness as she glanced over her shoulder at Jaime Lannister. “Yes, Ser Jaime?”

A moment’s silence, before the sound of soft footsteps approached. “I thought perhaps some trouble might’ve befallen you. Lady was quite insistent in bringing me here.”

So she had. Sansa’s eyes flickered down to the wolf, accusing and questioning at the same time. Why him, Lady?

“Some trouble has befallen all of us.” It was painfully evident in her voice that she’d been crying. She so wished she had a handkerchief on her.

As if reading her mind, the Kingslayer’s good hand extended out next to her, holding one. Pressing her lips together, Sansa looked up at him, face shrouded in darkness, silhouetted by the faint glow of the candles she’d lit. “Thank you,” she added quietly.

Jaime bowed his head and turned his body towards the statue of the Mother she’d been kneeling in front of. “You don’t pray to the Old Gods?”

“No,” she replied. “My mother raised us with a septa. The Old Gods were father’s realm.”

More silence. It seemed to etch on forever. Sansa felt restless in her own skin, fingers tangled up in Lady’s fur.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, with his face still turned away, Jaime Lannister said, “I know my word means nothing to you. But I am sorry... Sansa. For everything your family has suffered at the hands of mine.”

She stared up at his golden head, all she could see of him under the heavy furs he himself donned. He was sorry. What was there to be sorry for? Or rather, how could one person be sorry for so much? Hadn’t he stood idly by while it all happened? Hadn’t he stood with Cersei through everything she’d done? Perhaps the Kingslayer himself didn’t have Stark blood on his hands, but he had been in the splash zone while everyone around him did.

So why didn’t she hate him?

Why did she respect him?

Taking a deep breath, Sansa patted Lady on the head and stood, watching as he turned to look at her, almost warily. “The time for condolences is long past, Ser Jaime.”

A shadow crept across his eyes, and his head lifted a fraction, as if to nod but thought better of it. “Perhaps you’re right,” he admitted, with a ghost of a smile at the corner of his lips. Not the arrogant sort she was used to seeing upon them. It looked like he wanted to say something else, but held back.

Lady stalked forward, as it never surprised her to see these days, and rubbed her head against Jaime’s side, until his hand fell to her head as well, scratching lightly. The image caused something to stir inside her. What did it mean, that Lady, her unfailing companion, who saw through everybody that meant her harm, behaved this way with him? As if she were loyal to him, when he’d never given her reason to be?

“She likes you,” Sansa pointed out, somewhat lamely, as if she’d given up on the matter.

It drew a soft laugh from under the thick beard the man had taken to wearing. “Yes, I’m lucky like that, it seems.”

You don’t know just how lucky. “I believe you’re a man of your word. She must see it, too.” That, and something else. Something else she sees that I don’t.

The gold of his hand glowed in the candlelight, drawing her eyes to it. Lannister gold. The golden hand of who was once the best swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms. It must have weighed the weight of loss. The heaviest weight there was. After all, Sansa was well acquainted with it.

Jaime saw her staring at it and seemed to shift, uncomfortable. Feeling her face flush at being caught, Sansa folded the handkerchief and stepped up towards him to hold it out towards him.

Eyes dragging up from the piece of cloth to her face, Jaime placed his good hand at her fingers, allowing them to fold over it. “Keep it. It’s the most good I could do to you in coming; it might satisfy your wolf."

Nodding, Sansa took it back, forcing away from her mind the feeling of his hand over hers. Warm and steady. There was a moment of silent eye contact before she looked away. “No,” she added as she gathered her furs around her shoulders. “I appreciated the company.”

Without sparing another look at him, she turned, pleased to see that Lady followed. “Goodnight, Ser Jaime.”

–

“Brienne,” Sansa spoke up as they stood near a window, the large woman next to her, hand at the hilt of her sword

“Yes, my lady?”

She turned her face away from the Winterfell courtyard, where Jaime Lannister was knocking swords against the large redheaded wildling. He seemed to be losing. “You seem to know Jaime Lannister better than anybody here.” Brienne only stared at her, waiting for further question. “Lady’s quite taken with him,” she continued bitterly. “I don’t understand why. Perhaps you could shed some light on the situation.”

Brienne looked at the wolf in question with a frown before turning back to Sansa. “I wouldn’t pretend to understand how Lady behaves, my lady...”

“No,” Sansa agreed, toying with her sleeve. A thread was beginning to come loose. “No, but Lady is very particular about the people she trusts that way. She doesn’t even behave like that with my own brothers and sister. Nor with you... what makes him so special? He’s a Lannister.”

There was a momentary pause, in which Brienne also looked back to the window to where the man had been knocked back. “He was born a Lannister, that is true. I may be so bold as to say that is a burden he carries, not a trophy.”

The answer didn’t satisfy her. “You said he treated you honourably before. I know my mother freed him from Robb’s prison to try to exchange him for me. What has he done that’s redeemed him so?”

“He’s a good man, my lady. I would stake my life on that. The rumours that circle him leave some truth out of them. I believe Ser Jaime is someone who wants to do the right thing, and will find a way to do it.”

Yes. He had left his sister to join them up North, after all. Tyrion trusted him. So did Bran, and Brienne. And now Lady.

“He sent me to find you, you know,” Brienne continued. Sansa looked up at her questioningly. “At King’s Landing. He provided me with armour and this sword... made from your father’s sword, to use it to protect you.”

Sansa watched her for a moment, unsure, glancing back towards Jaime in the snow, shaking it out of his hair as he adjusted his left-handed grip on the other half of her father’s sword.

“He’s never mentioned that.”

Brienne gave her a small smile. “For all that he likes to boast about the things that don’t matter, Jaime Lannister is not the sort of man who seeks praise for the things that do.”

And Jaime Lannister chose that moment to swing his sword around and look up, meeting Sansa’s gaze out the window, and in that moment, her breath caught in her throat and she understood.

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Stars Align 5 - 8 | Dr Stone 19 - 21 | Shinchou Yuusha 6 - 8 | No Guns Life 6 - 7 | BnHA 67 | Iruma-kun 7

Stars Align 5

Geepers, I accidentally read some spoilers before watching this episode…so I realised that the person in te clubroom was Toma without his glasses, but it took me a bit to realise still.

“Makimaki”…cute.

Don’t give Maki’s father your name, Toma. Names are weapons for guys like him!

It’s ben a while since I’ve done this type of maths, although the answer appears to be correct.

Huh? The ED went straight to the teachers instead of going to Kinuyo/Ruriha/Kaori (whatever her name is)…

Oh! That heart gesture hints at the fact he has a sister (I’ve forgotten the guy’s name though) – he might’ve learnt some dance choreography from watching idols or magical girls with her. Update: That’s Shingo.

Dr Stone 19

Rule no. 2 of shonen – don’t underestimate the bishonen.

The guy who kinda looks like Kirishima with orange hair is definitely going to be important…(rule no. ???? of anime).

Ooh! The themes I thought would never came back…came back!

Some people do consider underpaying people a modern form of slavery, y’know.

Does Tsukasa always have to be called “the strongest primate”, though…? It’s a badass title, to be sure, but it certainly wouldn’t be said a lot in a normal conversation.

Judging by the flame (homura) she carries, I’d wager her name is Homu-oh, dangit. Her name really is Homura!

Senku teaches Fire Safety 101.

Ginro’s not holding his bokuto (wooden kendo practice sword) anymore…hmm.

I didn’t think Sulfuric Acid lady would be back…ever.

The funny thing is that Tsukasa seems to be a gender-neutral name, so telling the brawny men to “go suck on Mommy Tsukasa’s teat”…LOL.

Hyoga has that mask thing of his anyway, so he’s probably better off than, say, Homura.

Is that a Death Star??????!!!!

Kensaku means “search”.

Cell phone…you’d need extensive knowledge of electronics and/or IT and architecture (for the larger networks, or at least the towers) to get one running.

“…who’ll be our double agent?” – No duh. It’s either Gen (as suggested in the scene just before) or Taiju and/or Yuzuriha.

I never thought a smartphone would make me feel sad for what has gone before, but it just did when all these quotes from the past came through.

Okay, so one of the ingredients is steel (hagane).

I love how Gen gets the wine image. He’s a stage magician, so his fancy suit matches the image of a sommelier.

Byakuya seems to be the one represented in the battery image.

BnHA 67

Yay! Amajiki, my booooooooooy!

Shinchou Yuusha 6

I never thought I’d say this to my seasonal husbandos – I don’t even say this about zaShunina, the random yandere – but…Seiya, you a**hole!

Lemme guess…Seiya’s gonna use some speed seeds?

I read on Leviae’s status earlier that she has an immunity towards fire…*gulp*

A nurikabe is a wall youkai that blocks travel, while a hyosube lives in a river and eats rice plants.

What’s the age gap between Mash and Elulu? I know Mash is hot enough (in the manga) to be compltly within my range, so I’d say he’s about 16 at the youngest, but Elulu is, what, 12…? Update: There’s no real indication as to what the characters’ ages are, but Mash is lvl 16 and Elulu is lvl 8.

Ooh, this is new! Seiya’s thrown caution to the wind for once for the sake of Elulu!

No Guns Life 6

“Strong Smells” (on the can) – Yep, Olivier seems to be proving that name right.

Motor City…I didn’t really care for it at first, but now I’m starting to warm up to it.

Ooh, it seems the implication here is that Olivier inherited the title of EMS commander from her dad.

“…I’m gonna get shot!” - I guess when you’ve got a gun for a head, the assumption is you’re gonna get shot.

Armed Tokisada seems to be this world’s version of All Might…(but then is Juzo Deku? LOL.)

Iruma-kun 7

This OP is a lot more battle-oriented than I remember…

I want a GIF of sparkly Amelie, stat!

Iruma’s voice as Rin is too CUTE! LOL!

Kawaii Comics, LOL.

Ooh! I can recognise Opera by his nail polish now…! His nail polish appears to be purple today.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Opera express his own concern for Iruma until now. Maybe he’s like a surrogate mother to Iruma by now…?

They even have monsters to call out bell noises…LOL wut.

Hmm…I just realised Azz speaks to Iruma rather formally. Not just the –sama, but the keigo as well.

Azz is rather observant too…(Seriously, I swear he’s been teetering on the edge of being my husbando from this show, but since he’s so subservient, it’s a bit of a hard concept to grasp. Not to mention the guy is, what, 14…?)

Even the shadows of background characters are blue and pink…

The little arrow over Clara really sells the moment.

The bird is so cute~!

I only realised it this year, but boba is really in, all over the world, for young people. *stares at all the boba shops that have appeared around my area lately*

I think Ameri = watashi and Iruma = boku. It’s politeness all the way ‘round. I think Sabro might’ve used ore.

“Don’t let go. Desire is your life.” – Sarazanmai ad <- I think this quote is appropriate for this episode.

Oh! We see Kuromu the Akudol in the ED…I didn’t realise that. (<- knows about her due to spoilers)

Oh! I think next episode might be Clara’s seduction class! Ooh! Interesting…

Dr Stone 20

Come to the dark side, we have candy…amirite???

Dr Stone 21

The pun here is that tou is a way to pronounce “copper” and “steal”, so Chrome copped copper in the Eng subs.

Couldn’t Ginro just use the word “s***” instead? That would’ve made the pun a lot better, tbh.

Thy translated all the dialogue in the fake menus! Yay! (<- translator’s brain showing up) For instance, Senku’s attack is listed as 1 while Suika’s is 3 and Gen’s is 5…LOL. The one that really made me laugh was “Runs away the second he knows he’s at a disadvantage. You’re scum, Ginro!”

Magma wasn’t in the fake game menu…!!! (I like how Magma questioned how Senku suddenly started calling him a “friend”.)

No Guns Life 7

I feel like the length of time between distracting the guard and Tetsuro conveying his plan was a bit much, but…okay.

Shinchou Yuusha 7

LOL, Beel Bub…y’know, Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies.

If Seiya were watching No Guns Life, he’d freak out…

Is that Cerceus in the back-yep, thought so!

Shinchou Yuusha 8

I almost expected Rosalie to woof…that’s how doglike she is!

Why do I get the feeling we’ll 1) find out what the Warmaster looks like next ep and 2) find out Rosalie’s armour is actually the armour Seiya’s meant to look for…? I could be wrong, but my intuition has some chance of being correct, even if I think up stuff that’s pure speculation…

Stars Align 6

Does Yonex sponsor this show, like Mikasa for Harukana Receive…?

LOL, Mitsue’s reaction.

If this were the Amazing Race, the hometown advantage would suck…but this is Hoshiai no Sora, so this could go either way.

“How to Soft Tennis” indeed…sic.

Wait, who’s Takada…? Update: She’s on the girls’ team, IIRC.

The Takenouchi/Souga pair is a bunch of trolls…LOL.

Oji seems to be the leader, full stop. Same way Katsuragi has been running things.

It’s been a few weeks since I last watched this show, but…is Oji the guy who threatened to punch them all…? He is, isn’t he…?

Stars Align 7

I feel like Mitsue’s bitterness is fuelled by personal experience in the manga field…

Well, the guy’s name isn’t Arashi (storm) for nothing! Update: The guy’s name is in katakana, which may or may not prove my point…

Arashi’s surname sounds like the Japanese word for “prince”, if you’re wondering.

I LOLled so hard at the line “Versus Arashi?” Y’see, there’s this game show with a group called Arashi. Therefore, its name is “Versus Arashi”.

I learnt most of what I know about tennis from Wii Sports, LOL.

I mentally cringed when I saw Itsuki’s burns again…

“…years and experience.” – That’s two things, Tacky!

Souya from Planet With would be in heaven here…what with all this meat.

Doesn’t “Kamuy” mean “god” in Ainu…? That Ouji, so conceited! *huffs at how arrogant the boy is*

Girls do eat like fiends…LOL.

I can’t believe 7 episodes in real life time was only a month in Stars Align time…

Yuta’s really sensitive to Toma’s mood…probably because the former likes the latter. (Yeah, I’m a derp for saying what we already know.)

Stars Align 8

I-I wanna cry…you do realise I gave up piano halfway through high school, only to become an absolute bum when I got into higher levels because I can’t use my piano lessons to demonstrate I can manage my time responsibly anymore???? I quit Chinese the same year and now it’s the one thing that’s preventing me from getting a bunch of beneficial opportunities because now there are so many Chinese people in my region! Studies are not your life! (distant crying can be heard in the background)

I kinda get where the mother’s going with this, but knowing what I know…please compromise, you two.

“The handsome half” – I wasn’t sure what that meant until I saw the image…”half” meaning ha-fu, or a person who’s half Japanese half something else. It’s like calling someone gweilow in Cantonese –it’s vaguely derogatory at the very minimum.

*Yuta’s sisters suggest clothes for him to wear* “Don’t tell mom about this.” – Oh, I have a bad feeling about this…(Then again, I got vaguely spoiled for this point by the This Week in Anime segment…that’s why I decided to watch 3 episodes in one shot.)

Maki’s shirt says “to continue”, as if it’s echoing his nonchalance. Like, “Yuta, please continue” or something like that.

To be real with you, the first resource I consulted to start thinking about the LGBTIQ+ spectrum (outside gender-bending fiction) was a book about an FtM person, so I guess I’m the most used to that sort of thing.

This is why empathy is so good, Maki.

Go, Mitsue! Be the diversion!

Who’s “Kanacat”? Kanako?...Oh, it’s Mitsue. Rigggggggggght.*facepalm*

Why do I get the feeling Mitsue wants to join the soft tennis club…?

Sakurai-sensei’s glasses are all fogged up, LOL.

Ohh (sounds down). These kiddos are soccer nuts.*grumbles about soccer nuts*

Update: To be honest with you, I’m fine with not making hard gender decisions too…Just so you know.

[dinoswrites]

director's cut meme: that scene from "little arrow" where solas first meets evie in the flesh >)

I mean yeah I basically wrote the fic because this idea popped into my head hahahahaaaa so.

They finally stopin a room with a big table, and a bunch of people standing around it. They’reall wearing the shiny armour, which still looks silly, and there’s one in themiddle with his back turned who has a big, white pelt over his shoulder. She’snot too good at guessing yet, but she thinks it’s from a wolf—it’s way too longfor halla hair.

The man who’s holding her says something, and she knows it’sabout Mamae because he says Inquisitor, and thenhe says da’len and the man with the wolf pelt stiffens.

As you have guessed, the agents who kidnapped Evie literally burst into an extremely important meeting of the Dread Wolf and his Generals, and right when someone is about to give them shit for it they shout something like, “THE INQUISITOR, OUR GREATEST ENEMY, HAS A CHILD! WE HAVE STOLEN HER SO WE CAN EXPLOIT THIS WEAKNESS AND WIN THE WAR! MAY WE HAVE A PROMOTION PLEASE”

Meanwhile Solas is just like the tumblr app, trying to load pictures and failing

The whole room goes very quiet, and everyone looks at her veryquickly. And then they all start to talk again, quicker, faster, louder, soloud that it makes her ears hurt.

Except for the man in the wolf pelt, who lifts his hands fromthe table and turns around very slowly—like people do in Varric’s stories, whensomething scary or exciting is happening.

The main challenge of Evie’s POV was how little frame of reference she had for literally everything happening to her--so most of the strange settings she sees as a child have to come from stories, or the woods around their aravels. And she’s never been around very large gatherings of people - this is probably the highest number of people she’s seen at once in her life. 

Solas’ brain is still:

The man holding her puts her on the floor, and she almost fallsover—they haven’t fed her today, and they’ve been running all night. She candefinitely handle it, she’s four and a half, but she thinks anyone would be a little shaky, under thecircumstances.

Fuck I forget how dang cute this kid is sometimes. “I’m like, kind of starving but I’m fine, I’m a big girl, I got kidnapped but I’m rolling with it.”

She looks up at the man in the wolf pelt as he looks down ather.

He looks very, very surprised, she thinks. And maybe a littlesad—or happy? He’s looking at her like Mamae looks at her sometimes, when shethinks Evie’s not paying attention. Cole says that she’s overwhelmed when she does that, it’snot Evie’s fault.

I’m not sure there’s enough gifs in the world to cover Solas’s thoughts right now???

He runs like... the full gamut, here. Initial reaction: She has my eyes. Fuck, I have a kid.

Instant, knee-jerk wait i must hate myself more reaction: No, that’s impossible, based off this child’s age my vhenan, heart outside my chest and love of my life, would have known that I am the Dread Wolf, scourge of her people and destroyer of her world, and there is no way she would have kept my child. Obviously, what is happening here, is that my vhenan, who shines in my eyes brighter than any star in the sky, finally moved on. Yes.

Also Solas: she has my eyes

Also also Solas: I BET LOTS OF PEOPLE HAVE THAT EYECOLOUR, I SUSPECT IT’S VERY COMMON I BET SHE’S NOT EVEN THE RIGHT AGE FOR OUR ILL ADVISED TRYST

Also Also ALSO Solas: ... actually i don’t know anything about children, how old is she?????

She thinks of her brother, then—of him being frozen in place,trapped by magic—and she thinks that she’s hungry, and thirsty, but she alreadybroke a rule when she took food from the strangers who took her and she knowsshe wasn’t supposed to and she didn’t mean to break the rule about screamingbut she got so tired of it—

She wants her brother. She wants her Mamae. She wants someone totake this thing out of her mouth and untie her wrists and bring her to herMamae, right this instant.

The entire room goes silent when she starts to cry.

If you subscribe to a Looking Glass-esque version of Ancient Elvhenan, where children are precious and must never ever be hurt, you probably thought that last sentence was hilarious.

I imagine it might have been jarring for some of the people in the room who don’t view modern Thedosians as “people,” because believing one thing and then having a sobbing child in front of you... would probably test your limits on how much of a monster you feel like being today.

All of a sudden, the man in the wolf pelt kneels, and takes thecloth out of her mouth.

Everyone take a quiet moment to appreciate that Solas’s first interaction with the child he did not know existed until 20 seconds ago is to remove a gag from her mouth. 

She nearly chokes on it, she’s so surprised—maybe he’s like Coleand Mamae, he knows what she’s thinking—and he hushes her as she does,hiccupping and sobbing loudly into the emptiness of the room. Not trying to gether to be quiet—no, he just makes soothing noises, whispers gently, “It’s goingto be alright,” over and over.

“I want—I want—”

“Your mamae,” he says, gently, when she can’t finish. “Ofcourse. I will take you to her as soon as possible.”

I really, really like the idea that young Evie doesn’t quite get the difference between spirits and people, and just thinks that her mother can literally read her thoughts because Cole can, obviously.

In reality, Evie’s mom used to be the fucking Inquisitor, leader of a party that included a surprisingly honest Qunari spy, a convict who thought growing a beard would disguise his identity (and it worked) and the goddamn dread wolf. I think by now she might be savvy to “no i didn’t eat more blueberries than you said mom I promise” with a mouth stained purple and fingers crossed behind your back, Evie.

Solas is no longer frantically trying to convince himself that she’s not his kid - because she is crying and his heart is in 6000 little pieces, and she looks so much like his vhenan...

He has actually 200% forgotten about everyone else in the room at this point.

Meanwhile, someone in the back of the meeting is secretly thrilled, because they are about to make a boatload of money off the old “did our boss sleep with our enemy again” betting pool.

He pauses, though,when he unties her wrists. And she feels his fingers touch the big ugly bruisethat’s left over from them grabbing her.

His hands glow a little, like Uncle Dorian’s or Aunt Vivienne’s.And she remembers another rule too late—don’t let strangers use magicon you—but all he does is make the bruise go away, and her wristdoesn’t hurt any more.

His eyes glow, too. But she doesn’t feel any different fromthat, so she doesn’t worry about it. Elf eyes get all shiny in low lightsometimes.

Everyone in the room: Well I mean maybe he’s got a weakness for kids or something I guess that’s --

Solas: *turns both agents who kidnapped her to stone without even looking at them*

Entire room: 

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asks, and he sounds so nicethat she answers honestly. She shakes her head no, and he smiles so nicely whenshe does that she feels a little smile of her own, answering him back.

“Good,” he says. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? It’s a long trip backto your Mamae, and I want to make sure you’re feeling well.”

She sniffles a little, rubbing her arm where the bruise was, andnods.

He smiles again.“Would you like to walk with me, to get something to eat?”

Presumably the agents he just turned to stone said something about where they were, because otherwise there would be an awkward period of “let’s interrogate all my generals until I find out where I’m supposed to go because I jumped the gun on the whole stone thing lolololol”

You don’t have to fill all your weird plot holes if you just have your main character not have a clue what’s happening, right?

That breaks a rule, she knows. But she’s very hungry, and thisstranger said he’d take her to Mamae, so she nods.

He stands then, and reaches down, holding out his hand for hers.He kind of has to bend over a little, to make it work, but she reaches up highand his hand is very warm and gentle. He begins to lead her out the door thatshe came in—and there are two statues there that she didn’t notice before, soshe cranes her head up to look at them.

Some people missed the agents-turned-to-stone detail, so there it is!

“My name is Solas,” he says, and she looks at him instead. “Whatis yours?”

She knows it’s breaking a rule, but she tells him anyway, inbetween sniffling and rubbing at her eyes. “Evie.”

Solas: *trying not to break down crying as he takes her hand for the first and what he thinks will be the last time ever*

Evie: I have learned from this that there are two types of people: People who are nice to me, and people who kidnap me on sight. There is no middle ground. I totally will not need therapy when I’m older.

Everyone else in the room as they leave: ... do we still have jobs tomorrow?

[sburbian-sage]

Alchemiter + Food Production + Aspect Charges = The Worst Indigestion.

But to be fair, indigestion doesn’t make you explode or turn all your organs into bologna.

It is a well-known fact that SBURB doesn’t provide much in the way of food. The Healing Gels all provide nourishment, but they don’t taste like anything. If you want actual food, there’s few options.

Whatever you have in your house.

Food handed out on Derse/Prospit parties

Bugs that consorts find

Some sprites with high link stats have been known to cook. They know they’ll have to leave eventually, so they tend to cloister themselves and cook. For days on end.

And so long without food sucks. We all thought Alchemiter food would work, but it has trouble producing organic material. not that type of organic i would rather starve In spite of this, we’re still making breakthroughs in this respect, and are able to make cakes. Look around pitsblog and you’ll find hundreds of recipes and alchemy instructions.

But what I’m talking about is something else. It’s even more common knowledge that you can deck out your alchemy pad so it has higher chances of Elemental Alchemy. Elemental Alchemy is when an Aspect Charge goes into the item. Charged items have various effects. Blood items can talk, Rage items want to be used more, and Hope items leave. They just fly out and away. But it’s 100% possible for the charges to go into food. This is not good at all. The various charges have various effects, none of which are good.

For those who are forgetful, I will recite the effects of items and food with charges, so you know to be careful.

For those with morbid curiosity, buckle up.

Blood

Blood food, that sounds fun. Blood is about stability and bonds, so your items will never break. Ever. They also attune to people. They also have this weird quirk, in that they’re sentient. Your sword will talk and latch onto your personality. Be careful. Blood charged food is good because it bolsters your immune system and makes your skin harder. Downside? The food is alive.

So that’s a problem. Some want to be eaten, some don’t. But either way, you’ll probably feel bad.

Breath

Breath is about freedom and chaos. Items you make will either dissipate upon entry, or be highly destructive. Same for the food. You either get air (that admittedly smells good), or regular food. Eat it, and you will blow up. Air wells up inside and escapes into gore. Sick.

Void

Void is about nothingness. Void items don’t exist. Thats i

Mist

Mist is about replication and being. Items you make, there will be a lot of them. Sometimes they amalgamate, so creating a shitty sword that turns into several shitty swords that fuse into each other is a thing, and the stats stack, so what was once formerly 10 pieces of shit suddenly becomes a good option. Mist is the best for making food, as you either get more bang for your buck, or one superfood that will feed you in one bite. But eating too much superfood will make you vomit.

Heart

Heart is about identity, stepping down from a pedestal to introspect, and souls. Items you make will be bare versions that are easily modified, and have their souls on their sleeve. They may even be emotion oriented. As for food, I’ve never seen heart food, but i can only imagine it is the purest form of it. Which might mean you get individual parts. That’s kind of stupid.

Rage

Rage is about outward warping, command, and giving up your identity so you can focus on what needs to be done. Rage items are commanding. They want to be used. You’ll find yourself using a Rage weapon and it feels good. Soon enough, you’re Gollum. Rage food is probably worse, because you’ll either be addicted to the food you’re eating in a non-wholesome, I Can’t Believe It’s Not Meth way. Or you obsess over the food and starve because you never actually ate it. It will mess up your life.

Flow

Flow is FIRE! It heats things up and makes them intense. Items burn and make everything seem a bit more real. You’ll be manic all the time. The food you eat will be spicier, hotter, and the tastes are more distinct. Eating Flow food is a good idea because they make you more productive, and are kind of like anti-depressants. The only foreseeable problems are addiction, because this shit is basically Speed, and also spontaneous combustion.

Rhyme

Rhyme takes it slow. Mutes and cools down so you can appreciate it. Items are cod and make things a bit more muted. They’re good for calming down, and while they do things slow, they do it right. Rhyme food is cold, maybe even raw, but it’s basically the every-food version of a pot brownie. Not gonna lie, I used to do Rhyme food benders a lot in my early days. Just do it responsibly. I distinctly remember me and this troll were Rhymed, the muted, effective nature of it made us go from friend to one-night stand. Even worse, nothing actually happened. I made out with her horns and she tried to bucketfill my toilet. I declare Rhyme food to be the worst food.

Mind

Mind is about logical thinking, options, and it’s my native aspect. Mind homeboys, holla if you hear me. Items tend to be electric coded, and in colours and patterns that encourage thinking. Nice to wear, even if there’s no inherent bonus besides electrocution. The food almost always comes out in a diverse palette so you have options in your diet. And they’re still electric. But maybe a good shock can knock a cog in your brain use, so munch up, junior.

Fate

Fate is about instinct and inevitability. Fate items look okay, but you realize that you probably wanted it like this. They oft have arrows on them, and move fast in the direction of the arrow. Good weapons. The food is similar, in that it’s okay, but not what you wanted. And in the end, you like it. They also hone your instincts and make you feel like making more impulse decisions.

Might

Might is about strength and standing up to meet challenges. Might items seem weak, but when you face them with adversity, they get stronger. A Might shirt will just be a shirt, but if you get hit with a hammer, it tenses up to block the blow. Might knives will be dinky pieces of metal, but they will go to sword-levels of sharp when needed. But don’t eat the food. They don’t want to be eaten, and will fight as they go down. If you do manage to somehow digest it, then a grape can feed you fully.

Sand

Sand is the direct opposite of Might. Instead of rising to meet a challenge, it cuts the challenge down to your level. This means a Sand weapon will cut through armour like butter, and then suddenly suck. The food is worse than implied. You may think it makes you hungry so it can feed you just enough, right? Wrong. It meets your hunger and decides that the best way to meet the standards is to tear your insides to shreds. Sand food is instantly lethal. And it’s also about deception, so you’ll have a hard to impossible time of knowing what the item is or what you ate.

Doom

Doom is about decay and necessary rot for life. The items are poisonous, but they’re so good, they have to exist. The food is predictably poisonous. But Doom decays the taste, you you might think “okay so it didnt taste like poison so i guess im good” and then you die. Doom players, however, can eat it all they want. These guys can benefit from drinking bleach, poison heals them. But if they feed it to you saying that it needs to be eaten as a part of the cycle, slap their defeatist face.

Life

Life is about growth, and the travel from Doom to Life, and ending in Doom again. The food is actually good. It fails to be tasty most of the time, but what sandwich can heal physical wounds, wipe away bruises, and grow back fingers? The armour is good too. The only gripe is the weapons, they suck ass and actually heal the targets. And no, it still hurts. Smashing someone with a healing mace will make them cry from pain, but heal it so any wounds don’t happen. Speaking from experience, they’re not worth it unless you plan on torturing someone.

Dreams

Dreams is about thinking up stuff, and ordered creativity. The items look like art pieces and coloured like aesthetic moodboards. They tend to look silly, and their stats are okay, but they increase when you’re doing something innovative, or while asleep. So a good battle strategy is to go to sleep and have a Blood player animate your drooling body to kick ass. The clothing items make you dozy, but creative. Food is weird because it’s hallucinogenic, and you’ll see weird stuff, but if you need divine inspiration, it’s there. You might also act half-lucidly and do stuff in the heat of the episode. This is dangerous for time players.

Rain

Rain is about unstructured, outside-the-box thinking. Items looks STUPID, but by god are the stats godly. They also make you crazier, but a good kind of crazy. The food will make you lose your mind, and it is all kinds of freaky. If someone wants to make Rain stuff, watch out.

Light

Light is about freedom and luck. The items are all lucky and light, and may float away. But if they don’t, then say hello to a lot of luck. In fact, it’s common practice to make a lucky item, then use the luck to make a cheaper, luckier, better item, and keep on snowballing. You will have more luck than an orc bandit who found a 4-leaf clover and got lucky enough to find even more clovers, if you know what I’m saying. 

I’m saying you’ll get really lucky. 

The food is lucky too, but still freedom oriented, so your digestive track may get gaseous, leading to serious health risks.

Law

Law is about locking things down and fact. They are heavier, and you have less things to do with them, but what you CAN do is effective. You may be disallowed from blocking with a sword, but the strikes ring out crits all day. It locks out something so you have a greater chance of doing right. As for food, it is very particular about what it will and will not make. They will be specific shapes, and they will taste like what they should taste like. If you have any kitchen sticklers, they will turn into gourmet nazis basically, and become lethal serious chefs. The french could never be this serious about food. And they are also a lot heavier, so be careful, because it will sink into your stomach.

Time

Time is about the flow of time, and the inevitable end of all things. Time-oriented items have the ability to time travel. This is very good, but please, leave the time travelling to the time traveller. Time food will also time travel. So not eat them. It is a one-way trip and you have no way of knowing your destination.

Space

Space is about physical space and making something from nothing. Space items tend to be BIG, and also have the ability to teleport. I can be unsettling when you put on a fresh shirt, walk in to the bathroom, and oops, you’re in your friend’s kitchen. The weapons are good though, because they have inherently high velocity. So get ready to see body parts and grist fly. The food is also bigger, but has this odd tendency to not stay in your stomach. It might taste good and be filling, but then you’re hungry and a half-digested hunk of meat falls into your bed. Gross.

Hope

Hope is about rejecting everything and the beneficial powers of spite. Items you make will launch away at a very fast speed. Oops. If they don’t fly away, then grab it and use it. They make good weapons, but block as good as shields. There is virtually no difference between a tower shield and a rapier that is Hope-themed. The armour is top notch too. The food is good, and even if it looks rotted, is as good as if it weren’t. In fact, it actually tries to taste better if it’s rotted. However, Hope is still spiteful, and will give you indigestion. Fair warning though, some of these items have feathers on them. Incinerate immediately. Those are angel feathers. They provide Angelic Corruption. Unless you want to murder all your friends and commit suicide for some perceived ascendance, get rid of it. Now.

Stars

Stars is about accepting everything that comes to you and dealing with it. Items will come to you and cling. You can never get rid of these things unless you destroy them. But why would you? Sooner or later, you’ll fall into it and everything will work out. Star food will also show up and it wants to be eaten, but not in a creepy Blood way. It’s more psychological. When you eat it, you’ll be full for a long time. A bag of chips can probably sustain you for a day. Stars is good.

Sight

Sight is about symbolism and considering something from every angle. It’s a weird aspect, but an important one. The things you make are... odd. Like, a sword will be just a large edge, and shirts become chestplates and cloaks. It symbolizes everything, and that can be cool, but is also weird. The food is also symbolic. If it’s good tasting, it’ll look gold. If it’s bad, it actually looks like shit. If it’s plain, it’s a grey square. Regardless, eating them puts you into the Symbolism Fuckoff Zone. It’s freaky, but useful.

Sound

Sound is solidarity and focusing on what is. It makes thing literal and real. It has no documented effect on Alchemy. Fuck Sound.

Coins

Coins is about value and how you need to value something properly. Items are going to have good stats, and it’s going to take a lot of resources, even some you would overlook like basic grist or a ruler. The food is tasty too, and takes a combination of expensive ingredients, and basic ones. Never has ramen tasted this good.

Dust

Dust is about making the best out of nothing. Sometimes we don’t have pristine material, but Sburban Survivors Make Do. The items will be top notch, but costs not that much. A wooden sword can cut though steel. The food however, is not that great. It’s always a cube of protein that tastes like nothing, but is filling. Any comrades who play this game can use this as the gruel to feed your other comrades for cheap.

Joy

Joy is about feeling sure, and how you need to spend less time worrying just dive in. And because irony is fun like that, Joy items are dangerous. It’s been tested, Joy has a rather direct link with Zilly items and the Saccharine Doppelgangers. You can make items, and they feel right. Roll with it. But the second it looks Zilly, nuke it. Food is a little worse. Regular Joy-charged food will make you feel sure you could and should eat it. Even if it’s toxic. And once you start, you won’t stop. They're like pringles, you can’t have just one. And eventually, you’ll make a Zilly Snack. NEVER, EVER, EVER, eat a Zilly snack. I don’t care if you can see your ribs and taste your own stomach, it’s NOT WORTH IT. 

Doubt

Doubt is about feeling nervous, and the safety of being unsure. Items charged with Doubt will make people uncomfortable, allowing you to get more hits in as they cower. However, you will have to face the fact that holding onto this thing feels weird. Even funnier and worse if it’s food. You will look at your soup like no other. Sitting on your plate is an Anxiety Donut. If you work up the nerve to eat it, you will feel dread like no other. Nothing will feel right, and you will sit on the floor and cry. It is not fun.

[ionica01]

Day 7: BREATH AND PULSE

Hello again! Today is the last day of AlMei week, and it aure as hell has been a ride! I hope you have enjoyed it at least as much as I have, because it was absolutely amazing! I'm glad I got to be part of it. And now, here we go: last day, breath and pulse! I’ve been stationed in this house for nearly two years. Before, I had been stuck in a small apartment, where my sides almost touched the walls and every creak of the mattress echoed in the dim-lit room. It was such a sad environment, populated by a short blonde boy and a person always wearing an armour. They came home in the late hours of the night, if they come, when nothing moved around the city anymore, except for a lost care or drunk guy. When they came, the floor would squeak and the bedsheets would shuffle until the blonde lay down on my mattress and unbraided his hair. Sometimes, he’d take out a pocket watch and whirl it around, throwing it in the air only to catch it again and open it with a sigh. “I promise we’ll get our bodies back”, he told the armoured boy after the display, whatever that meant. Their discussions never seemed to make much sense to me, talking about things such as Philosopher’s Stones and Equivalent Exchange. The one in the armour spent his nights on the bed nearby, but he never seemed to sleep. My brother told me he didn’t even feel heavy enough to be a person, and that he had a feeling he was like a ghost. If he is right, I must say I’ve never seen a kinder ghost. On one occasion, he brought a bony, starving cat to the room and petted and fed it throughout the night, despite his Brother’s mumbles. As a matter of fact, my actual owner also seems to like cats very much. Sometimes, he brings one or two of them for several days, only to look after them and make sure they regain their strength. He pets them much in the same was the armour boy did, with undescribable love and compassion. In this room, there is more space than in the previous one I’ve inhabited. The owners have placed me in a pleasantly beige chamber, where everything smells like fresh detergent, exotic tea and books. There is also a whole wall covered in Alchemical and Medical texts, documents and research. In fact, when I was moved in, I’ve noticed another room dedicated to these fully. Every evening, the holders always fall asleep with a book in their hands, which slowly escapes the grasp of their fingers as they nod off, eventually landing on the soft pillows with a muffled thud. The atmosphere here is always calm. Unlike the pressing one in my previous apartment, I get to host a rather cute couple. There is a man with dark blonde hair and golden eyes, who reminds me a bit of my previous short owner, and a woman with dark hair and pale complexion. From the way she carries herself, I think she is not from these places: she smells like exotic spices and strange flowers and wears her hair in buns. He, however, seems to feel at home in this country, with his short haircut and soft voice. The two of them never get in bed unless they are together, so I can only assume they are a couple. Even so, they never act too cheesy with each other. There are the natural good night kisses he plants on her unbraided hair or the quick good morning pecks she uses to wake him up, but other than that, they are never grossly intimate. Sometimes, he’d wake up first and quietly stare at her sleeping figure until her eyes fluttered open. Even if I could talk, I don’t think I would bother such a tranquil stage that even the nature seems to bless. When she’s the first one to be kissed by the morning rays and her hair gets toyed with by the fresh eastern breeze, she gets up slowly and starts her day by syncing with the nature and with her sleeping husband. From time to time, I get to witness their morning workouts, a swift succession of movements that look like a mesmerizing dance to me. Being as massive as I am, I can’t even phantom ever moving like that (when there is need of two people only to lift me and I need to be turned on the side to enter through a door). The two of them, however, make it seem easy. They anticipate each other’s movements and dodge, strike again and flex, bend their arms and knees in a never-ending cycle of offensive attacks and defensive strategies. If they hadn’t called it “fighting training”, I could have sworn it was a dance as exotic as my female owner. I’ve heard their names often enough to remember them: he is called Alphonse and he refers to her as Mei. I’ve heard it roll off their tongues slowly and sweetly, like honey when you pick it up with a spoon and it lingers in the air between the hungry mouth and the jar; I’ve heard them whisper them before wishing each other sweet dreams; I’ve heard them whispered rushedly in the middle of the night when one of them hears a strange sound or when they worry about each other; I’ve heard them moaned in moments of intimacy only I have witnessed and which I won’t disclose; I’ve heard them said in angry voices when they argue over the other’s safety. Even so, I prefer referring to them as him and her. It feels more general, and it helps me believe that one day, I may again meet owners that care so deeply for each other. Bu today, it’s not their names I hear. Instead, I feel them on the mattress, heavier than usual. I feel a third pulse beating besides the two I have become accustomed to and a third breath warming the bed covers. And I heard both of them gushing over the person cradled into her arms. Trisha, they call her. She must be only a few days old, a bundle of rosy meet and tear-stained cheeks. She’s covered by white clothes and wrapped up in a warm blanket, despite it being spring already. Honestly, I don’t get why they’re so excited about her and what urges them to hold her so close and sing to her when she cries. For me, she simply destroys the balance my owners have created with her screams and constant need of attention. It’s not until she falls asleep that I can finally enjoy some peace and quiet. “She’s beautiful.” he whispers, hugging his wife and kissing her forehead, all the while looking at the baby. I don’t get what he deems as beautiful: I think it’s simply annoying. To my surprise, she nods in agreement and leans her head on his shoulder, obviously exhausted. They both fall asleep shortly afterwards, leaving me to hold all three of them in their peaceful slumber. I fixate my gaze on Trisha, trying my best to see what’s so amazing about her. While sleeping, her features have relaxed and she looks more human, yet I still wouldn’t dare call her beautiful. But then, my eyes shift involuntary to his face, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so happy. He’s smiling in his sleep, an arm protectively wrapped around his wife and daughter. And she’s beaming as well, her face senine as she holds the sleeping bundle with both hands. I still don’t understand why they love her so much, but she makes them happy, so I try giving her another chance. In the wee hours of the morning, her eyes snap open and she takes in her surroundings. For a moment, I think she’ll start crying, but instead, she shifts in her arms and the corners of her mouth twitch upwards. Just as I’ve watched her a hundred times. I feel the little one tried to connect to her surroundings for a split second. My theory proves to be wrong when her face suddenly gets redder and she starts crying, waking her alarmed parents. While she feeds her, I can’t move my stare from the baby as I make an attempt to feel her qi and connect to it: it has only been visible for a second, but she seems to take after her parents. As her breath evens out after having eaten and her pulse steadies, I feel it again: the flame of her life tingling in this world as she becomes aware of what surrounds her. When her dad takes her in his arms and starts rocking her on his knee softly, singing a lullaby to put her to sleep, I start accepting her existence into this world and wish to see how she’ll grow up. I now feel three breath warming the mattress and three pulses beating as one each night when the family goes to sleep.

[ask-manda-of-the-6]

"Send me a pairing with my muse and I’ll tell you..."

(you two are on the same wavelength and I love you both!) XD

Which one sings 80’s pop songs and which one rolls their eyes

Manda is more likely to be caught singing along to whatever’s on her radio in the armoury while she’s working. Since Joe’s often in the armoury helping her out, he’s used to his girlfriend’s shenanigans and will playfully roll his eyes before humming along.

When Manda’s doing measurements for the combat squad’s armour, she’s more than happy to let them pick whatever music they want to listen to, and might hum along to it if she knows the song. She definitely didn’t expect Hightower to very quietly sing along to his choice of music when he was first getting measured out for Warden armour, much to Manda’s delight!

Which one will refuse to have the other spend their money on them, even if it was urgent

Joe -like a true Taurus- is as stubborn as a bull and is very frugal with his money (or intel… or whatever these guys use to buy stuff). He’ll get flustered if Manda offers to pay for anything on his behalf, and maybe a little bit offended because he wants to be the provider in their relationship. 

Manda has a similar approach to spending money (if you can’t afford it, don’t buy it) but can be reasoned with about going halfway on something, especially if it’s important.

Which one would ask the other to dance

Even before they became a couple, Joe found out just how often Manda liked to dance to music when he was helping her in the armoury (after she dislocated her shoulder post-UFO Avenger Defence). She would usually decide to take a “Manda-tory dance break” if she was overthinking a mod for someone’s weapon or waiting on some paint to dry, inviting Joe to join her. 

It took a while, but after several weeks of helping her out, Joe finally got comfortable enough to join her, even if it was just acting silly and loosening up. A certain stealth ranger may have queued up a couple of romantic slow dance songs on the radio after that...

Which one fell in love first

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

They probably both fell in love around the same time. Perhaps it was when Manda got sick with the flu and was out of it for a couple days. Joe was dedicated to making sure that she had someone watching over her, and his protective nature basically went into overdrive. Manda for her part was surprised at not only the lengths that Joe went to make sure she was comfortable, but the fact that he was still affectionate towards her while she was a gross, grumpy, groaning mess.

Which one is the red oni and which one is the blue oni

They actually switch between the two; but in general Manda fits the Red Oni (passionate, emotional, enthusiastic) and Joe fits the Blue Oni (patient, thoughtful, plans things ahead of times). Though both can get very jealous, will fight anyone that does their partner harm, are stubborn, and both have a tendency of bottling up their feelings until they can’t handle it anymore.

Which one cries first when they fight

These two rarely fight, neither of them like confrontations if they can help it, and most of the time they bottle up what they feel until it becomes too overwhelming. However on the occasion that they have an argument rather than a peaceful discussion of opinions, Manda will likely be the first one to cry if things become too much for her to handle. Joe will stop whatever he’s doing because Manda crying = he’s hurt the love of his life, and comfort her until she feels better. That doesn’t mean Manda’s crying would win her side of an argument, it just means that they need to take a step back and calm down for a bit until they can talk things out like reasonable adults… with lots of cuddling.

Which one would spoil the other silly on their anniversary

Both would want to plan something together for special occasions, and then would probably compete in out-pampering the other. They get as much enjoyment from being treated special as they do when they’re the ones doing the treating. 

Expect cavity-causing levels of sappiness between these two… they’ll try to keep their PDAs to a minimum. Try…

Which one would steal the other’s clothes

Manda 100% borrows Joe’s t-shirts when she’s off-shift since they’ve started sharing a bed together. That and Joe can’t really wear most of Manda’s clothes given how teeny-tiny she is. That’s not to say that Joe might not snuggle up with one of Manda’s shirts as a blanket when he’s taking a nap because it smells like her... and get caught.

Which one wants to do all the cute couple things

Joe’s usually the first one to wrap his arms around Manda’s shoulders or hold hands whenever they’re walking together. 

After Arma made Manda a sugar rose as a thank you for his ‘1/2 birthday’ cake, Joe became more determined to leave little gifts for Manda to find around the armoury; wrapped cookies, origami roses or paper castle towers. Manda reciprocated the gesture by stuffing cute little notes into Joe’s armour loadout for him to find, usually on the Sky Ranger. To which Joe melts like a lovesick dork and his squadmates tease the hell out of him...

♥ ‘Roses are Red, Your Hair Used to be Too... No one makes me smile, Quite Like you Do!’ ♥

Which one wakes up in the middle of the night and is afraid of waking the other up so they just watch their partner sleep until they get tired

Both Joe and Manda will suffer nightmares, either their worries manifesting or when dealing with traumatic things that have happened in their pasts. So both have gotten used to waking up in the middle of the night. Usually -despite their best efforts- they’ll wake up the other (either by hugging them tightly in their sleep or thrashing about if it’s a particularly frightening nightmare). 

What they’ll usually do is get up, have some hot chocolate or tea in the breakroom, talk things out if they need to, and then snuggle each other until they fall back asleep.

Recruit Manda (c) @ask-manda-of-the-6

Hightower (c) @commanderplease

[locshar]

The White Princess Diaries - Ep 1 Part 3 - Don’t you wish it was him...

Having no choice in the marital maladies department - Dr Who invites Lizzie-Mini to a bit of a buffet – and there’s fruit and there is M&S fruit, but she is having none of it and -  Yahoo! - at last the crown has gone!  There is lots of innuendo about fillies and stallions and all I can glean from this is that Aneurard was a bit of a stud in bed.   Well of course he was!  Didn’t any of them watch TWQ if only for research purposes?  

 Caution – obligatory rape scene.  Or not. No one gets undressed, one sits on the bed – the other stands up - and there is about a nano second of grunting and he’s blathering on about being the king and even quotes the royal “we.” Or the royal ‘weeeeeeeeeee’

Someone cries – me actually - and that’s it – its over.  Its now all to see if she is fertile – spoiler alert – guess what is going to happen next…..

 Oh how I miss Anne Neville at times like this – remember the candles, the bolsters, the freckles, the burning bush…the small but big but small baby! Sigh.

 Who tells her he was thinking about Cob Face Cecily which is why he was only grunting for five seconds and not ten – and Lizzie-Mini gives him the best right hook I have seen in ages and I rewind so I can see it again and again.   And again. She storms off back to the Travelodge where Cecily is….bouncing on the bed…

 Mini Lizzie-ish says Dr Who is a bad man.  You are telling me?  He is also a twat…. And he can’t fight and doesn’t own any armour and even his horse ran away when he tried to hide under it…sorry – what plot? Oh – that one!

 Well Dr Who has put his leather pants back on and now Cecily is paying him a night time visit to try and get her hands on his family jewels – but he has taken his crown off so she can’t.  That makes her sulk even more.  Told you. Cob face!

 Grasper definitely needs to go on a diet but instead he is arranging to have Coronation Chicken – that’s the coronation of a chicken for those in the know (bock bock bock…)

 Grasper (Mk 2) has huge bags under his eyes.  Well that’s what you get for murdering people…serves you right – I hope your chicken chokes you – in Leicester!

 So – Lizzie-Mini has to have a child first before Who will marry her or invite her to have coronation chicken.   Jeez and they called Aneurard for fancying her pants off??  Now Dr Who is looking in the tower for the princes…ho! ho! ho!  Remember when poor Aneurard had to do that and he looked under every sheet and in ever cupboard and chest he could find in the one room…it took him all of…30 seconds not to find them.  But he did look bloody gorgeous whilst he was doing it.  But fear not!    Caitlyn Mags is going to do something - but I am not entirely sure what.

  Oh bloody hell – Lizzie-Mini is now wearing a crown – well more like half a crown.  And she’s getting a lecture from Caitlyn Stark who probably thinks Teddy is Tyrion so she wants him in the Tower.  We’ve been here before… don’t forget.  She’s now trying to make friends with Lizzie-Mini – God the woman must be desperate as she’s now whinging on about loyalty – something she has no contraception of.    She put Dr Who on the throne she says – well someone did because it wasn’t him and half the people who turned up on the battlefield have been claiming they killed Poor Aneurard and Dr Who certainly was not one of them.  He turned up in his Tardis after it was all finished!

 Now Madder by the Minute Mags is fore telling the future.   A boy will be born! (eh is she now Sisterbeth?)  and he will end the Cousins War (the what?) – and his name will be Edward – I saw it on a spoon once!

 Finally, the coronation – or something.   It’s the cheapest looking coronation parade I have ever seen – it looks more like the Cleethorpes Carnival.  Who travels on his own by horse and not a cloth of estate in sight and everyone has the same clothes on in the Travelodge so its good some things don’t change. Saves lugging a suitcase everywhere.  Cecily is bouncing on the bed again…..Dobby eat your heart out!

 The bells are ringing – which means Lizzie-Mini has to pay a visit to the toilet just in case she is pregnant …but as she has only been bonked by Who once and its all that soon as no one has any concept of time -  she could just as well be preggers by Aneurard than Chewdorwho. Ooh!  Idea! Could Aneurard turn up as his own son?  He does get younger every year so it is possible?  (scribbles note to Starz)

 Lizzie Mini now wants herbs for belly pain – I know the feeling!

 Nokia Ned gives Sisterbeth a ring – surprisingly no one has seen Perkin – er – Parkin at Turney…maybe he changed his mind and went to Disneyland.   The jewel is missing – its probably on Dr Who’s head. Or it could be the jewel in the Nile – or in denial!   The soldiers who went back to Yorkshire because they had lost their sat nav were told to slaughter any boys they found in WoodvilleLand.

Ahh Herod – don’t you wish you were here?

 Dr Who is wearing an embroidered smock round his neck to eat coronation chicken in – if only it were tighter!  Its like a big bib – but not a drool bib – obviously.

 Caitlyn aka Mad Mags Stark raving mad looks on.  Really - what are you doing in this series?  I just saw you in Fortitude! However,  I need some Fortitude as we are now at the coronation (again)  and I can see the chicken but no food.  Amusingly, Stanley is wearing a beret.  Has he become cosmopolitan and begun speaking  fraunch ce la vie?

 And of course there are no clergy so it is left to Lady Stark to shout out to the assembled extras - ”God and the BBC save Dr Who!”

 Now Margaret of Warwick has some Mandrake whereas I just have a headache. Lizzie-Mini still needs it to get rid of her belly pain – I want it to get rid of the past three years and see Aneurard again frankly.

 Useful Medieval NHS tip :–Mandrake gets rid of babies and gives you bad dreams. Any resemblance to real or actual drugs is purely coincidental.

 Lizzie-not so Mini soon – still wants Aneurard – and she’s still not alone there is she! I am only watching in a very faint, disappearing hope.

 Cecily is bouncing on the bed again – for God’s sake I hope I never get put in that Travelodge room – and suddenly Sisterbeth Queen has donuts in her hair like Princess Leia.  The fire – and the Werthers – are back and someone has peanut brittle as well so I have no idea what anyone is saying.  

 Lizzie-Mini-getting larger - asks Mumsy to kill the Tudors and I have to laugh now as the Queen of Tarts says she can’t kill anyone. What?  She killed the Yorks (and she is now calling herself a York) Is she confused, crazy or just reading a crap script?  So she says her spells are just pure luck really (Really?).  Lizzie - not so mini - must not blame her not yet big or small baby for being a Chewdor.  She has to make him tall and strong – just not fat and murdering like her grandson

 So after giving childrearing advice (from a woman who sent a five year old off on his own to sea) Sisterbeth slinkers off then to – oh make a spell with some mandrake then!

 Dr Who is happy cos he is having a child – it’s a miracle because a) he’s a bloke and b) he’s a bastard

 Lizzie - bigger by the minute - now wants a wedding more than anything.  Mad Caitlyn gets all ready to inform those who don’t understand this period by announcing that the baby will be a boy and will be named Arthur and will be christened in Winchester (where?)  

Hang on? Arthur?  Loud Splash as that bloody spoon gets thrown back in the river! But – hello! Aneurard – Arthureurard – there may be distinct possibilities here – we all know he can do  young – and ride a trike!

 Lizzie Major is getting her own wedding gown from Pradatagenet…purveyors of posh pregnancy plans to Plantagenet Princesses! It’s all ramping up now!

 Queen Sisterbeth nicks a hair from Mad Mags Stark as she flies past her on a broomstick and goes into a dark place to wind it around a bit of mandrake and summon up one of those spells which are only luck really and not a spell at all - honest Mr Witchfinder General!

 So – she makes Mad Starklyn see a ghostly white figure (yes – last seen walking next to Jon Snow) and wakes up shouting “Bring on the Wall!” Then she sees the White Walkers (priests to you) and the Red Wedding (oh sorry - that hasn’t happened yet….that’s at the end of the episode.)   And a creepy, strange figure scuttles across her bedroom and climbs into bed with her but – oh sigh of relief – its only Thomas Stanley.

 But a spooky, bloody mouthed child is looking in the window chanting that the male line of her family will die and Prince Richard of York will rise against her son.   Bloody hell – the script if foreshadowing like mad now – someone hide the Malmsey!  But then Mads wakes up and finds her nightmare has really begun as Stanley is in the nude. (not really but that would have been funny!)

 So – as she instantly knew that her dream was a product of Sisterbeth’s ‘luck’ because she saw the last series, Mrs Stark tells Dr Who that he has a heir – but no hair – but he has to lock Lizzie-Maxis mother away because she keeps nicking all the donuts to plaster to her ears. Oh – and she may be a witch.  

 Here we go - another bloody wedding.   At least she is under an umbrella.  She also brought with her some very big baps – so good news for the reception then! There are new clothes all around – sponsored by Horse of Fraser.

 Lizzie - extra plus sized - gets wed in Red – told you!  The Red Wedding!  She bemoans her lot and says she will fight for her brother to kill the monster that is Dr Who.  She may even rename him Dalek.  She will fight from within – which will be difficult whilst she already has a royal bun within the Plantagenet oven.

 But she is stoic.  She will be hidden and patient– and wait for her brother to rescue her.  I hate to tell her that she may have a long wait – he’s currently queuing up for a go on Pirates of the Caribbean!

 The wedding is all a bit hammy – I like a ham sandwich myself but who is the silent bloke in red and why is Grasper almost crying? It can only be that he has seen next weeks episode.

 And so to Bedtime – and some very sad music which we all know well.  Dr Who doesn’t want her and she doesn’t want him (well –she’s had Aneurard after all) Dr Who jumps out of bed holding his dagger (a real one - not a euphemism) and cuts her foot with a knife to keep her honour.  And so that his son is not a bastard.  Hard luck on that one mate!  If you nip forward in your Tardis to around 1538….

  I just wish they had used different bloody music as all I can see is shoulder freckles,  an nice beef-cheek and candles and bolsters….please help me!

 Now Lizzie not so mini is muttering something about H and P – HP Sauce? Tomato?  Is that what they used?  Cut to Truly Madly Magsy listening at the door – although why is anyones guess as he has already made her pregnant so what exactly is she listening for? Hoping he yells out Mummy?

 So that was it.  Did you get it?  Only Duchess Dyson had avoided the complete head and in some places body transformation. There was so much foreshadowing I half expected to see some plans lying around for a car park in Leicester…

 What will happen next….?  Well, the preview has an unknown man with a bow and arrow in a fetching blue cloak with a hood up so he looks more like Gandalf or one of the demon children in Citadel.  I wonder who that could be?  

 Let’s think…blue cloak, bow and arrow, in disguise…its bloody Robin Hood! The colourblind years!