#heavy's the only one who knows bc medic eventually tells him everything. also puts heavy off making a move for ages because he sees the ring

[lagomorphique]

usually I don't like when fandom retcons a male character's attraction to women bc bi erasure sucks but in my extremely convoluted hc for medic's backstory, I do hc him and his wife to have had a marriage of convenience. In my personal headcanon, they met bc they were wlw and mlm respectively involved in the underground gay scene of 1920s Germany and met through mutual friends. They became extremely close friends and married each other as a cover. They're still legally married but went their separate ways after leaving Germany in the 30s, then lost contact when the war broke out. Medic still wears the ring 1) for the same reasons he got married in the first place, protection. and 2) for sentimental reasons, he misses her and always wondered what happened to her. He really, really doesn't like being asked about it, which is why there's only like 1 line in the entirety of tf lore referencing his wife. Demo probably saw the ring and made the insult without thinking, Medic reacted extremely poorly, and the team collectively understood that pretty much anything is fair game to insult medic with because he doesn't really give a shit and finds it funny too, with the exception of two things: he will not tolerate being called a n*zi (he's jewish) or any reference to his wife.

[hi-rubi]

hi Rubi this is 👁 anon!! I sent you an ask off anon but I figured I’d send you another and try to say something else. I read another person’s ask that said your writing balances toxicity and redemption well, and I have to say I really agree with that. I love that you don’t shy away from having your characters do shitty things and then having them suffer through the consequences of said things. I think that’s a really mature way of exploring and handling certain darker topics, and it does show that deep down you believe (or want to believe) that people can change and evolve and be better, whether for themselves or for love etc! it’s been something I think about a lot - the way that in your stories, no one is inherently unlovable; characters who believe that eventually realize their own worth, and they learn to fight for themselves.

(sorry this is gonna get long and I hope this doesn’t count as trauma-dumping?) recently I kinda took a step back from a friendship I had with my ex-crush: I really liked him, he didn’t like me that way, and it was hard on both of us? like we changed. we were best friends for a few months and he’d be the first person I talked to when I woke and the last I talked to before I slept. at some point he called me his best friend and deliberately made time to talk to me (like he worked on his class work beforehand so he could message me during class). and when he got a lot more distant I actually would just wrestle with myself and the feelings of loneliness and rejection. I once wrote you a very rambly long anon that I’m slightly ashamed about (bc I really shouldn’t have trauma-dumped in your inbox), but anyway... I realized there were some key differences between us (funnily enough the dispute was about the Mineta update; I was like “omg not Mineta” and he was like “these people suck for looking for representation in the wrong places”) and then I realized... this wasn’t good for me. I tried to not love him (and I will say I’m not in love with him anymore for sure) but it always hurts when you’re the one that’s more invested, right? not his fault that he’s not as invested though bc we don’t owe each other anything. so yeah I’m just taking steps back to not be so dependent on him (bc it’s draining to the both of us)! (it’s kinda sad that I’d been writing in my journal since April about how sad I’d felt about him distancing himself, and that it’s taken Four Months for me to actually stand up for myself and say what I wanted to say, but at least it’s done now! that’s something to be proud of, right? I never used to stand up to people I loved. I’d internalize everything, and then my self-esteem would just sink lower and lower. I’m glad that while this guy wasn’t It for me, at least he’s decent enough and cares about my feelings.)

anyway this long rant is just for me to say that reading your fics has been cathartic for me. the first time I read your fics (I think the rich boy Shoto one), I was sobbing by the time I read to part 5. I felt really lonely and I was wishing he would love me. but like slowly as I kept reading and kept thinking and evaluating, I realized I don’t need /him/ to love me. and sure I’m not perfect and I might have some of my own kinds of toxicity, but that doesn’t mean I’m not worth loving! I’m still working hard to love myself. I’m learning to be compassionate with myself while not giving myself excuses for toxic behavior (eg passive-aggressiveness, overthinking, etc).

I just wanted to tell you that you are a beautiful person (both in and out!!). I could tell this not just from what you write, but from how you interact with the people in your inbox, whether anonymous or not. you have such a big heart, and you pour so much of yourself into your writing. I can see how it’s been both cathartic and perhaps a little destructive to keep ruminating on certain scenarios you’ve dealt with. but also I’m so glad for you that you’re starting to see more hope and light, and hopefully you’re starting to need this coping mechanism less. you are wonderful, not just in what you give others, but in what you are.

when I was looking for MHA smut in the tumblr tag I wasn’t expecting to feel all of this and to experience this change. thank you for that. know that in your journey, there are people who are rooting for you!! love, 👁 anon

p.s. I read your ask about New York and I hope you feel a little more at home now!! you sound like an amazing person to be friends with. even though I’m nowhere near New York (I’m moving from my country to the UK which is still far from NYC), I hope someday I’ll be able to befriend someone like you! and I hope you enjoy the city and the friendships and the drinking and all of it 💜 take care Rubi! known you are loved. the stars cast their love on you.

Ohhhhh my gosh. Eye anon I have so many thoughts putting under cut.

I literally went through the exact same thing. That guy was the reason I wrote half my pieces. Like, scumbag bakusquad and all these other works were about HIM. I know SO WELL how you must feel right now. It is the worst, most painful fucking feeling in the world. The only reason I got over that guy was literally because I went on Wellbutrin (an antidepressant), and I realized my fixation with him (and other guys/things in the past) was quite literally because of my mental illness.

Please, please, please, PLEASE cut him off entirely. I think you mentioned you took a step back from your friendship; I want you to stop reaching out and messaging him completely. You don't have to take my advice, but if I could go back in time and tell myself something, it would be this:

Romanticize your life. Start working out and eating healthy. Get to a point where you feel good about your body. Switch up your fashion and wear shit you'd never normally wear. Experiment with makeup. Meet and talk to as many new people as you can. Go to new places in your city, whether it's a cool new library 30 minutes away or a pretty flower exhibit at the arboretum. Fall deeply in love with your friends and your family. If I were to write a story about you: you are literally a kind, beautiful main character who is moving to the new UK for a fresh start after being hurt in the past, and learns to love herself and others in the process.

Above all, never, ever get upset with yourself for falling for someone. You are an amazing person full of so much love, and he was someone you chose to bless with your emotions. But you probably love so many other things around you- your friends, the crisp air when you go on 7 AM morning runs, the nice lady who compliments your skirt at the store....... he is not unique. He's just one lucky person that got to experience your feelings.

You see how when you romanticize your life and paint yourself as the main character of your narrative, it helps shift everything into perspective? That is what helped me get over him. While my medication did most of the heavy lifting, that mentality just changed the game for me. I hope that you can internalize that, too. It takes a ton of work but I believe in you, and I want to hear updates on how beautiful your life is!! I would also recommend writing it all in a journal/online diary of some sort.

Whoa. You brought up.... SUCH an incredible point. "I can see how it’s been both cathartic and perhaps a little destructive to keep ruminating on certain scenarios you’ve dealt with." You're so right, it was destructive. I was always so absorbed in the cathartic part of it that I was always confused why I felt so destroyed afterwards. I literally wrote that quote doc on my "romanticization" document. There's something so beautiful and poetic about that line.

Thank you so, so much for sending this in. Your incredibly sweet words made me reread this message so many times and also save it. I really really appreciate you being here and I'm so happy I met you <3 Sorry this answer was SO long but eye anon I just.......... I'm just hugging you so hard right now. It feels like I'm talking to myself from the past and I just want you to know that I know what you're going through, and you will persevere.

[adorable-american]

So... I rewatched otgw and started looking at fanart and was reminded of bipper... and I've spent the last day and a half looking at #billdip help.

Also, I have an idea for the billdip mafia au, so course

(Mostly a human au)

(Edit: ok so, I had no idea what was happening until I typed it all. I was gonna mostly put the idea and hope a more experienced writer could take on the challenge bc I don't feel my mafia expertise is good but... well... I ended up typing some story bits so sorry if the third person/ first person switches are random and difficult to follow along with)

.

.

.

Bill is a criminal kingpin and afraid of nothing and no one, he is married to Dipper but since Dipper is almost a hazard for his line of work, he keeps his marriage secret. You cannot find a record of their marriage since Bill has the judge on payroll, Dipper (now older) uses his real name, Mason Pines-Cipher instead of the old childhood nickname. So, if anyone hears Bill say "'Pinetree' or on rare occasions 'Dipper'" they just figure he means another random thug. Mason, is completely oblivious to the nature of his husband's true work (because he wouldn't approve) and lives a very normal life as a doctor. He has seen Bill's office which is the front for his true dealings. The office is a nice space at the top of a skyscraper in Seattle. The business front is actually a realtor firm, where he takes advantage of the information and uses dilapidated/condemned/empty houses and buildings for his private matters. But because of Mason's odd work/call hours he often has long shifts and stays tired so he hardly notices the shady things that happen around their home, or the coming and goings of strangers at the wee hours of the morning.

Bill is also a very loving husband who brings his favorite doctor lunches and sits with him during his breaks so that with their crazy schedules they know and still make time for each other.

The only people who know about Mason is a very small circle, it consist of 2 people actually. Bill's chauffeur and another doctor that Bill pays extra to watch out for Mason at work. And because Bill separates the two lives so carefully no one can figure out his weaknesses and use it against him.

Until... dun dun dun!

Bill is kidnapped by a rival!

Mason sitting at the hospital cafe he waits for his husband to bring him their lunches but when he doesn't show Mason becomes irritable, mostly because he is hungry and never carries his wallet out of routine, but also because Bill will not answer his phone and he is stressing out about it, to the point he calls the realtor office and checks the ER. After his shift at the office he quickly drives home and searches the house and goes to the police to file a missing person's report (he forgets to eat and gets highly cranky with the officers.)

After leaving the police station, a black unmarked car follows him home. He is taken in the middle of the night while asleep, he wakes to find some smelly thug in his face and that he is strapped to a chair. (Still wearing his scrubs because in all his stress and overworked body he passed out before changing or cleaning up.) The thug smacks a crowbar against his palm. Threatening to Mason before telling him that he better answer their questions or he'd get the 'crow'. To which the thug steps back and Mason can now see the man standing behind him, the rival mafia boss. "So, who are you?"

"M-mason.." he says, his heartbeat becoming erratic and his breathing quickening with panic.

"Last name?"

"Pines...-Cipher" he hesitates before adding the hyphenated portion. He wasn't sure why, but he was very scared to death.

"So, how do you know One-Eyed Bill?" The rival asks because no one knows Bill's real name.

Mason's face contorted in a confused manor having never heard the name before. And as he hesitates too long the thug brings down the crowbar, smashing Mason's knee.

As Mason screams and cries the boss asks again. "How do you know him?"

"A-are you talking about my husband?" Mason exclaims, chest heaving. The image of his loving husband, an eyepatch hiding the injured eye from long ago, the injury that caused them to first meet... Bill had been quite the charmer. Even after his eye was removed, he denied prosthetics in favor of his new aesthetic. He would visit the hospital and wait in the cafeteria until the handsome doctor showed up. Everyday he waited, until eventually he learned Mason's typical schedule/routine, then he would show up only for lunch and sit with the doctor. Until eventually Mason gave in to his former patient and accepted his request for a date.

The boss and thug give each other a side glance. The boss smiles, making Mason even more scared as he moves closer, getting very close to Mason's face. "You mean to tell me that the notorious One-Eyed Bill, is married to a very cute doctor and his real name actually is Bill?" The boss pinches Mason's cheek and spins the chair around. Behind him the whole time was Bill, his shirt was ripped to shreds, cuts, bruises, and bloodstains littered his body as he wore a masked expression upon seeing his husband now in the same situation as himself. The very thing he worked hard to prevent, being undone... by Mason searching for him.

Mason lurches forward despite being tied to a chair, he wants so badly to help his husband, to bandage him up and nurse his wounds. "Please, I'm no threat to you! Let me help him." The rival boss thinks for a moment, smirking as he has the thug retrieve Mason's medical bag. (Stupidly, they grabbed it with Mason thinking it was Bill's briefcase) The thug dropped the case in Mason's lap and untied him. "Alright, but you have to get to him yourself." The rival said, leaning against Bill's chair and watching as the doctor with a smashed knee crawled with the heavy bag over to Bill. Tears rolling down his eyes in pain. Bill gives him an "I'm sorry" look, his own mouth tied shut with a handkerchief. Opening his bag Mason searched for something to sterilize the open cuts and bandages to cover each one. He pulls himself up into Bill's lap and sets to work. The rival boss unties the gag and questions Bill instead, this time when Bill doesn't answer or tries to lie Mason takes the punishment. Him being yanked by his hair and thrown to the ground, dropping all the bandaging and sterilization wipes.

"Gag him and hold him." The rival instructs, the thug does as he says, gagging Mason and picking up the young doctor rather haphazardly, his large tattooed hand around Mason's throat. Slowly tightening until Bill gives up locations for his operation. He looks over to Mason who has tears in his eyes, letting his gaze drop Bill can read the disappointment all over his husband. By the time, the rival has Bill's locations checked out, Bill knows he has now lost fortunes in investments but that won't stop him from destroying this guy. Because as they agree to finally let them go, hurt, broken, and Bill disgraced. Bill can feel the old powers course through his veins. Its not until they physically knock Mason out that Bill can retaliate. His eyes begin to glow yellow, his pupil turning into a slit as blue flames flicker to life, burning the bonds around him. His body healing itself. He stands up. The rival and thug's eyes widen in horror. Bill snaps his fingers and the both of them burn alive in the blue fires. He was in fact a demon but no one knew, he even had been playing games with these humans for so long he had forgotten what it was like to be beat in his own game, and forgotten the feeling of his power.

After the two burned alive Bill wasn't with the decision to cut his loses and start over else where or cheat and wipe the minds of his rival's thug's. Looking down at Mason, however, he wasn't sure what to do. He pressed his hand gently over Mason's knee, healing the shattered bone before moving up to his head, he couldn't wake him like this, for the mind was much too fragile but, he could see inside his husband's mind. And repair the damage that way but again, he wasn't sure he wanted that either. So he scooped up the handsome doctor along with his medical bag and teleported them home. Dropping the bag onto the kitchen table he carried Mason to their bed laying him down and played his least favorite game, the waiting game.

Once Mason awoke he jolted upright in the bed, fear immediately consuming him as he looked around, screaming for Bill and quickly checking his leg.

Bill was at his side in seconds, calming him down and reassuring him they were safe now. Once Mason calmed down Bill had told him everything and told Mason his options. 1) they could runaway together and start over 2) Bill could fix it all with a snap or 3) They did the first option and Bill would force Mason to go with him should he decide that he wanted to leave him.

Mason raised his hands in defense telling Bill to slow down and let him process.

Mason ends up requesting number 2 but that they be a couple of nobodies who aren't missed and ditch town in favor of traveling the world in search of mystery and adventure.

[ajokeformur-ray]

aaaahhhh can i pls get a matchup? i love your writing! i’m 19 (but bc i look so young most people think i’m 12) i love rock music and i was a dancer for most of my life. i write poetry and i absolutely adore making people laugh. i’m abt 5’5, brown hair, blue eyes. i struggle with depression, anxiety, and an eating disorder so a lot of days are rough, but overall i try my darndest to be a good person to myself and everyone i meet (if this is too much to ask, ofc don’t worry abt writing it ❤️)

Thank you!

Arthur // wc: 641.

You’re sixteen years younger than Arthur so he is very hesitant to even talk to you, let alone anything else. The poor man believes that you deserve someone better, and though it makes his heart break, he even tries, at multiple points in your relationship, to get you to move on from him, to find someone else. It’s only made worse by how you look much younger than you are. However, there’s just something which he can’t deny, and that’s the way that seeing you smile at him, seeing you even at a glance truly just makes flowers sprout in his heart. He loves you so, so much and he couldn’t stay away from you even if he tried. He worries that he’s holding you back from your future. Just reassure him that he is in your future, and hope that time only shows him that what you’re saying is true. You’ve been a dancer and Arthur would use this as the best excuse in the book to pull you up and into him for a dance. Arthur’s natural grace and the way you know how to find the beat of a song with your body only aids the two of you in spinning and twirling around the apartment. He loves watching you get lost in your favourite songs, and often listens to them when he’s missing you (read: every second you’re not by his side) just to feel you near him.

You’re creative with a pen and though Arthur wouldn’t pry, he’d be really curious about poetry as a whole. He’d want to know why you write poetry, what got you into it, what you like about it, what you don’t like about it, what you write about, what you don’t… He would love to settle his head into your lap or nestle the cool tip of his nose into the warm column of your neck as he listens to you read what you’ve written, and he always sincerely compliments you. He adores the way you love to make people laugh, just as he does, and you crack each other up all the time. You’re three inches shorter than Arthur, which means that he can really fold you into his hugs; his head resting on the crown of your head or on your shoulder as he wraps his arms tightly around you. It makes him feel like his life has a purpose, loving you, and it’s one he never wants to do without ever again, not now he knows what it’s like with you by his side.

Arthur understands more than most the struggle of having mental illnesses. It’s not sunshine and rainbows because you both struggle every day and it can be hard to be there for each other when you’re both barely able to see past your own heaviness, despite your best efforts. But you make it worth it. You both love to make others laugh so when it’s really bad, you sit there on the sofa together and Arthur tries out his latest material on you, trying really hard to make you laugh. When you eventually crack up, he smiles and together do you help each other to feel better before you begin to discuss everything on your minds. Neither of you eat much, either - Arthur due to his medications taking away his appetite, and you due to an eating disorder. Arthur keeps track of what you eat and when, writing it in his journal. He would be so empathetic towards you and he’d do his best to help you even with how he’s feeling too; you both try so hard to be good people, to be good to each other, and this is how you make it work. You don’t need to try too hard, though - you’re already the person you want to be.

Joker // wc: 703.

You stayed with Arthur through it all, you held onto him tightly, and you’re with him even now, even after everything that Joker’s said and done. He’s still the man you fell in love with all those years ago, and you make sure to tell him that as often as you can. You love rock music and instead of joining in with you like he used to, Joker prefers to lean up against the doorway, his arms folded over his chest and his legs crossed at the ankle. With a soft loving smile does he watch you getting lost within the music. It’s easy to see that you used to be a dancer; you move with a learned grace. Depending on what you’re listening to, your mood etc., Joker may or may not come in to dance with you. You’re sixteen years younger than him but with his newfound confidence comes the acceptance of your age gap; you’re both fully informed, consenting adults so he doesn’t care; live and let live, right? and besides, you both deserve to be happy after everything that you deal with on a day to day basis. Joker loves you so, so much. He really does, and he does his best to show you that no matter what happens, he’s still hopelessly devoted to you. You sometimes catch him humming your favourite songs when he’s sat reading his old journal or cleaning the apartment, and it warms your heart to know that the man you fell in love with all those years ago is still right here, beside you... Where he belongs.

You write poetry and it’s now a nightly routine for the two of you to get settled on the sofa, Joker cuddled into you so closely that he’s practically sat on your lap (and, depending on how vulnerable he’s feeling on a given day, he actually might), his nose buried in the crook of your neck, his arm around you as he sleepily hums and shuts his eyes. You read to him, your fingers in his hair, and Joker knows that he still doesn’t want anything other than this. He loves you so, so much and sometimes it’s all he can say, all he can think to say, so enraptured with you is he. You adore making people laugh and this is still something that you do as a couple; telling each other jokes until you’re both laughing so hard it’s a symphony all on its own. Nothing has changed in your relationship, really, for he’s the same man. It’s just that you have to be more careful now of the public; Joker is easily recognisable in his eccentric three piece suit and his vividly painted visage. No one ever sees plain old Arthur Fleck though, and this is how he avoids getting arrested by the police patrolling the area.

By now, the two of you are more than used to each other. You know to take space away from each other when you need to, you know when to try to make the other laugh, you know when to be serious, when to be silent, when to distract each other with music or dancing... Joker also still keeps meticulous track of your eating habits and he’s not above putting his foot down to make sure that when you do eat, that it’s enough for you; not too little, or too much. He worries about you just as much as you worry about him, and he’s so, so proud of you for everything that you deal with each and every day. Joker tells you this, too, just so you know that he sees you and your efforts. You try so hard to be a good person, and though Joker has long since werewolf’d and gone wild, he only does it on those who deserve it, and so much of who he is is exactly the same as he used to be; he’s still the same. Overall, Arthur Fleck is head over heels for you and he sticks by you through it all, through everything. He loves you, he’s proud of you, and he can no longer think of any kind of life without you in it. 

[whumping-every-day]

Gabriel, Part Two!

I am back with a second installment of Gabriel! Written twice, bc my computer is a butt. Feat. soft siblings Stefan and Maria, a very frightened Gabriel, and a blurry line between caretaking, creepy comfort, and actual comfort. You’ll have to excuse my lack of medical know-how, because I am not an expert. 

Masterlist 

--

Gabriel awoke to the sensation of being lifted. Panic spiked deep within him, and he curled in on himself and whimpered softly, unable to remember where he was. But he was all too familiar with the feeling of being hauled upright and then thrown, or dropped, unable to stop his momentum or control where he was put.

“Easy, little one,” a voice murmured. “Easy. I’ve got you, it’s alright. Open your eyes, bud.”

Gabriel froze at the low, masculine voice. It had all of his muscles immediately locking up in terror, but it also had his chest spiking for another reason, because this - this was not Master’s voice. The boy whined and squirmed weakly… but the voice had said to open his eyes, so Gabriel did, timid and alarmed. 

There wasn’t much light, but they were outside, walking up the driveway to a strange house. And the man holding him... Stefan. The parking lot. Money. Master giving him away. Everything came crashing back, and Gabriel gave a little shudder as the events slotted back into place.

”Hey,” his new master murmured, and Gabriel flinched, even though the tone was calm. The man shook his head faintly, but he only readjusted his grip to account for Gabriel’s squirming, cradling him almost protectively to his chest. “There we go. Do you remember where you are?” 

Gabriel hesitated, biting his lip. Where he was - no, he had no idea. But he knew what was happening, who he was with... “M-Master,” he whispered, and he brushed weak, bruised fingers against the man’s jacket, almost fearfully. It wasn’t an inquiry, it was an answer to the question. 

The man grimaced, but the expression quickly shuttered into something more neutral. “Yeah, bud. I’ve got you,” the man answered, even as they closed the last few feet of the driveway and Stefan toed open the door. 

The foyer of the house was large, filled with beautiful decor and spotless furniture. There were pictures on the mantle, of his new owners, and another man Gabriel hadn’t seen before.

The boy glanced around, searching for the woman from before - but she wasn’t nearby.  “M-Mistress...?” That time it was a question, and Gabriel remembered a split second after asking it that he did not have permission to do so. His lungs froze, chest tightening, but New Master simply glossed over his breach of behavior. 

“She’s upstairs,” the man murmured, and Gabriel couldn’t believe it. He should have been in trouble for a slip-up like that. But instead, his owner had chosen to answer his question. Absently, Gabriel noticed that he was still wrapped in the blanket from the car, and his wrists were still bound behind his back. But he was warm, and he hadn’t been dealt any fresh pain since being sold... seemingly, not even when he deserved it. 

It felt strange to be carried through his new master’s home, and Gabriel tried to take note of where things were, which floors would need the most scrubbing, which mirrors or windows would be hard to reach. He was rarely allowed out of the cellar, before, and being dragged out and forced to clean the upstairs had been a luxury. Gabriel hoped he would be allowed to clean here, too. It was nice, and the large windows and skylight would let so much sun in... it was beautiful, but more importantly, it seemed well-taken care of. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? It meant his Masters took care of their things. 

Gabriel was one of their things, now. Maybe they would take care of him, too. 

His Master brought him to the upstairs bathroom, and Maria was already inside when the door swung open. Mistress had a first-aid kit open on the counter, and she was currently pulling on white medical gloves with practiced movements. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” she greeted, and Gabriel blinked in bewilderment when he realized she was addressing him. “Could you put him on the toilet seat - yeah, thank you.” She twisted to get out of Stefan’s way as he set Gabriel down, and then the two of them switched places, so Maria could sit on the edge of the tub. Gabriel was very careful to keep still, eyes lowered and head down. “Now, Gabriel,” his Mistress murmured. “I need to take a look at your injuries. Just a quick once-over, to see what I’m dealing with. I’m a nurse, so I promise I know what I’m doing.” Maria smiled softly, even though Gabriel didn’t look up or react in any way. She reached around him with an unseen object, and Gabriel had just enough presence of mind to flinch - but then there was a faint pressure, and the rope around his wrists fell away. “That’s better. Now, try to hold still for me.” 

His Mistress did not hesitate to touch him, but she also warned him every time, and always explained what she was doing. Gabriel was accustomed to being handled in such a way, but he was not used to being spoken to while it happened. Where there would normally have been confusion and terror as someone else moved him, there was only faint anxiety. Gabriel let his limbs go loose and pliant, let his Mistress look into his mouth, at his gums and teeth, and then peer into his eyes with a bright light. Then she checked and double-checked him for more serious damage. The woman hesitated over the sight of Gabriel’s ribs, caved inwards and blackened purple and blue. But she only sighed and shook her head. 

His former Master had put him only in a pair of pants, and eventually his Mistress had to have them removed. Gabriel settled tensely once he was bare, but Maria was quick with the rest of the exam, even the parts that required she look at places that were normally private. 

When it was over Gabriel was trembling faintly, and Mistress straightened, pulling off her gloves. “You did very well, Gabriel,” she murmured. “I know that was hard. Good boy.” Gabriel’s breaths were already shaky, but the words were like a blow to the solar plexus, knocking the air out of him. Good boy. So easily dished out, like praise was something that could just be given, instead of something that had to be earned with blood and pain and tears. Gabriel was stunned, but Mistress was already moving on. “He’s severely dehydrated and underweight, and there’s a substantial amount of scars and deep bruising... probably malnutrition and nutrient deficiencies, as well. I’ll have to take a blood sample. But from what I can see, the only thing broken are his ribs.” Maria looked away from her brother, reaching out almost absently to pet her fingers over Gabriel’s hair. “Can you tell me what hurts the most, sweetheart?” 

Sweetheart. Again with that little name. There was something very funny in Gabriel’s chest, fluttery and squirmy. “I - I th-think - my ribs, Mistress,” he answered softly. His left ankle ached from being broken and healed wrong, and his head was pulsing sharply - but the worst by far were his ribs. 

“Alright. I want to get you clean, then I can wrap them, take a quick blood sample, and dress anything still bleeding.” Mistress’s voice was all business, and Gabriel stiffened to attention automatically. “Stefan, could you grab the water from downstairs? Gabe, you sit tight.” 

His Mistress moved to turn on the bath, and while she did, Gabriel pondered the number of things he’d been called here. Sweetheart. Buddy. Little one. Gabe. These were not things to call a worthless, broken-down toy. And Gabriel was very much worthless, his last Master had made sure he understood his place. This gentleness could not last. Maybe they just... didn’t understand what he was, yet. But they would. 

“Here, buddy.” Gabriel jumped in fright when his Master’s voice sounded from behind him, nearly falling right off the edge of the tub, and Stefan winced. “Sorry. Jumpy little thing, isn’t he?” It was said to Maria, and she only hummed in agreement. “Your last master wasn’t very nice to you, huh.” There was a bottle of water in Stefan’s hands, and he twisted the cap off and held it out. “Slowly,” he commanded, and it was very firm. “If you go too quickly you’ll be sick.” 

Gabriel’s eyes had fixed on the water like he couldn’t believe it was real, and he reached out to take it with trembling fingers. Surely it would be snatched away. He waited for a long moment in horrible, tense silence, waiting for it to go wrong, but there was only a soft hand on his shoulder. 

“Go on, sweetheart,” Maria murmured. “It’s for you.” 

Gabriel stared up at her for a long moment, then switched his wide-eyed gaze back to Stefan. Neither of them lunged for him, and neither of them wore cruelty in their expressions. Hesitantly, Gabriel tipped the bottle up and drank, and he felt his eyes prick at the clean taste of the water. He took a few gulps, and then the world around him started to narrow. He was so thirsty, and it had been so long, so long - he only realized he was shuddering and sobbing when his Mistress’s hand tightened on his shoulder. 

“Easy, easy.” Someone was pulling the bottle away, and Gabriel was choking and whimpering, a few more tears slipping down his cheeks. “Breathe, little one.” Breathe – was he not breathing? Gabriel suddenly felt light-headed, and he dragged in a long gasp of air. He felt too tight, his chest felt heavy, and he barely even registered the small hand rubbing circles on his back. “That’s it. Now out, breath out. Good. Now in…” It was his Mistress’s voice. Gabriel shuddered at the thought of showing such weakness in front of her, in front of both of them. But her voice remained patient, and the hand never stopped rubbing between his shoulder blades, even when Gabriel started to cough.

Eventually he was breathing normally again, and Stefan gave a quiet sigh. “We’ve got our work cut out for us, huh.” Gabriel shrunk in on himself at that, his head lowering in shame. But Maria just shook her head.

“Be patient, brother.”

Gabriel’s eyes were fixed on the tile of the floor, unwilling to look up for fear of displeasing his betters. There was a quiet rustling, a faint clink, and then the sound of water pouring. Then a glass appeared in his line of vision. It was filled only about two inches high with water, and Gabriel stared at it in bewilderment, before scrambling to accept it. Food he could survive without. But water… without water, he would be a feverish, delirious mess. Without water, after a while, he wouldn’t be able to tell what was real and what wasn’t. And to have it given so readily…

“Th-thank y-you,” Gabriel whispered, and his voice was raspy and so genuinely, incredibly grateful. “Th-thank you M-Master, a-and, and Mistress, th-thank you.”

There was a pause, and then Maria gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Of course, sweetheart.” Gabriel’s eyes were already wet when his Mistress tilted his chin up, her fingers smooth and cool against his skin. “You belong to us now, after all.” Her eyes were gentle as they looked down into his, and Gabriel could do nothing but stare helplessly back, desperate and hopeful and terrified all at once.

“We take care of what is ours.” It was his Master, and Gabriel’s wide, awed gaze switched to him. Stefan’s posture was loose, relaxed, nonthreatening. “As long as you live under this roof, we will look after you. Okay?”

It was a soft question, but it still spoke to the part of Gabriel that had been conditioned to respond. He opened his mouth, and realized only then that his Mistress had taken his right hand. And his Master had taken his left. When had that happened? There were still tears in his eyes, but he could only nod, feeling something fragile stirring in his chest. 

“Y-yes, Master.” It was the only reply he could give, obedient and meek, but it didn’t feel like enough. Gabriel hesitated, but he shifted just enough to slip onto the floor, carefully setting the glass on the edge of the tub. He immediately went to his knees and bowed flat to the ground, pressing his forehead to the cold tile. “Please,” he whispered. “I’ll – I’ll be good, masters. I – I want -” I want to be taken care of. “I want to be good.”

“We know, little one,” someone murmured, and Gabriel wasn’t even sure who. There was silence for a moment, and then two hands of very different sizes settled on his skin, one in his hair and one on his bare shoulder. Gabriel could only tremble underneath it, and for once it wasn’t only with fear.

“You are going to be a very good boy for us,” his Mistress murmured. “I can already tell.” Gabriel whined and nodded frantically, leaning into the daintier of the two hands. He could do that, he could be their good boy – it was so much better than being a toy, or a thing. And if they truly meant it, if it was possible that this was real… then Gabriel would make himself the best pet they’d ever had.

--

[END]

Previous,  Next 

Tagging the lovely people who asked for more, I cannot believe the support for this! @blue-flare10 @whumpywhumper @cagefreebirds @whumptywhumpdump @vickytokio @whatwasmyprevioususername @whump-me-fuck-me @robinshouseofwhump @useless-transboy

[sierratheory]

“Like i don't trust sierra bc of the time she came into Luke's life...” that entire ask but vice-versa too!!! people have said sierra dated dylan from flor and now her old roommate karsen too? as with luke, where was her time being single and figuring herself out before jumping into a new relationship? the twitter likes reminded me of how luke & sierra only see “jealousy” and “misogyny” as a h8ters only reason, which isn’t true 😔

Part 2 It's like they're still letting the other person know they're wrong but the difference is that it doesn't hit them. Why does it cause an overly emotional response and a giant need to prove they are wrong? it's a truth the person has been avoiding/ignoring. Luke or any person don't see the truth, they really don't even though deep down they know it is true (this is why emotional abuse is so dangerous and the victim "can't just leave")

Part 3 and that's why getting defensive and simply defending yourself are two different things. I'd like to point what that anon said about Luke's likes missing the point of what was said and this anon called him a 'dumb asshole' (lol) because he's missing the point. Well he may not realise it but he's missing the point "on purpose" his brain is making him miss the point in order to keep the fantasy that the points that were made aren't factual and are actually offensive (sexism)

Part 4 I swear I could write a book explaining every little behaviour he's adopting but what I really want to point out is that I understand everyone's frustration and regardless of what he's going through, Luke should be held responsible for his actions but we can and should emphasize because he's not fine. I'm saying this because he is following a very worrying pattern and even though Arzaylea was a much worse person than Sierra is,

Part 5, Luke is currently in a worse situation MENTALLY and I know this may cause some confusion and I can explain with more details why I'm saying this but it doesn't necessarily have to do with Sierra. I'm not saying she's not toxic. I do believe she's toxic but she's not nearly as toxic as Arzaylea. The difference is the timing. If Luke had dated Sierra first and Arzaylea later things would be much much worse.

Part 6 Luke was in a very vulnerable place, he was really hurt and he got a taste of what a mentally stable, caring, loving partner is like in Sierra. And I'm not saying these are traits that Sierra has or not. But when you get out of a toxic relationship, when you're at your worst a little love, or sense of love can feel like the best thing in a world. Basically it's an "issue" with the rewarding system in your brain. Very typical in people who go through this kind of situations

Part 7 that's why it is recommended to see a therapist or stay away from relationship because this rewarding system can fix itself and go back to normal or you might need some help. It all depends on how you deal with the situation. Some people get over traumatic experiences quickly and some need time and help. Anyway to keep it simple and short: Luke knew for sure (based on my little knowledge and his behaviour) that Arzaylea wasn't good to him but he was in love and he was making excuses to

Part 8 believe she loved him back (maybe she did love him back but had mental issues, drug addiction, I don't know, I can't judge) but he didn't have the time to heal. He's aware of his past relationship being toxic but I don't think he's aware of the effects it had on his mental health. He shows severe signs of being someone who still carries some luggage. Let me explain, I'm sure he's aware of how awful Arzaylea was and that he did him wrong and he deserves better.

Part 9 but for example, if arzaylea told him constantly that he didn't defend her enough, if she guilt trapped him because of it, if she threatened to leave him or blamed him for her mental issues/breakdowns he's most likely still carrying it with him and that's one of the reasons why he's desperately trying to make it right with this one relationship. It's something that's internalised. So yes maybe Sierra doesn't do much wrong compared to Arzaylea and actually maybe Sierra is like

Part 10 'dang I hate this thing someone said' but that's enough for Luke's brain to make a click, bring back the memories, the trauma and go into overdrive. This is an example but can be used to explain why Luke's trying so hard with Sierra compared to Arzaylea. Another thing that makes this relationship "worse" imo is that Luke's perception of reality wasn't accurate when he started his relationship with Sierra because of Arzaylea and now that little bit of love he feels like he receives is

Part 11 just wow and to him it is what real love feels like this is why your sense of personal worth should never depend on somebody else. And now he strongly believe that despite everything that goes wrong in his relationship, that little 1 thing that's going well is more than enough. he's never had that much so his fighting to keep it because it is sad but it's the most loved he's ever felt and he doesn't see why he could deserve more or how it could get better because to him, thats everything

Wheew, this was a trip to put together. You really did write me a book here, anon. But I completely understand what you’re trying to say. I come from a really abusive family, and even now I have issues where I’ll ask my bf if he’s mad at me and he’s like “you didn’t do anything, why would I be mad at you??!” Becuase I’ve been trained to think I’ve done something wrong if someone’s behaviour changes. And while I agree with most everything you said, I don’t think Sierra is unaware of Luke vulnerability due to the Larzaylea fuck show. That being said, I’m not sure if Sierra dated anyone between Alex and Luke. I don’t believe the roommate story, and none of the other mods do either. There’s no evidence behind it. I don’t know who the other guy is so I can’t speak to that. But she did have a lot more time between her and Alex’s breakup and her and Luke’s relationship beginning. Keep in kind she was still touring with Alex after they broke up, and that could have stunted any healing, but I truly can’t say. Time doesn’t always heal everything. And again I can’t speak to that break up, but I think it says a lot that she went on to drag his name during an interview after. As we’ve seen recently with Selena Gomez, she said she always kept quiet about her personal life out of respect. She wouldn’t even air out dirty laundry in her songs, and eventually she decided that her story was worth being told and she didn’t need to stay silent to protect those who hurt her. But she didn’t give an interview painting herself as an angel and throwing exes under the bus. And I think it says a lot that Sierra immediately went to the media, and even since that Alex has stayed mum on the subject.

I agree with the psychological damage points, and that Luke is likely overcompensating, if the relationship is real. Which in all honesty I’m leaning more towards as time goes on, but I’m still convinced even if they do like/love/whatever each other, modest! has some heavy handed access/control over it. And that could be perhaps to avoid a repeat of the Larzaylea mess, maybe they made Sierra sign a NDA, but I digress. Luke may also be convinced that because he didn’t defend Arzaylea, fans thought he didn’t care about her or was a bad boyfriend. It could have very easily been Arzaylea saying “hey you don’t defend me so you don’t love me, or fans see it as you don’t think I’m important enough to defend” etc. I don’t think Sierra is necessarily a bad person, while I’m entirely convinced Arzaylea was a shit-tier human being.

That being said, I do think she’s very aware that she is manipulating Luke, and taking advantage of the psychological damage Arzaylea did. I think that damage also makes him easier to manipulate or control and let me explain why.

TW - ALCOHOLISM, SUICIDE, VERBAL & PHYSICAL ABUSE

My dad was an alcoholic, and he committed suicide when I was very young. Because my mum left him, because he was becoming more abusive. Unfortunately instead of being the wake up call she wanted it to be, he shot himself and left her a note that said “I hope you got what you wanted”. Now, needless to say, this fucked my mum up really bad. She has never recovered. She has thrown all her emotions into a box, she is very clinical and doesn’t let her emotions control her. Which can be good sometimes but she’s very distant and cold. That being said, my mum married my step dad about 6 years after my bio dad passed away. She was not healed, let me tell you. She never sought counselling and is not on any sort of medication. My step dad was like the perfect man, before they got married, he cooked, he cleaned, and he was okay with the fact she had two young kids, one in elementary school and one just starting high school. But after they got married and he had control, oh everything changed. He isolated her from all of her friends and even her family. He was and still is verbally abusive and on occasion he can be physically abusive, but it’s rare. To her and all of his kids, including my sister and I. If he doesn’t get his way he throws a tantrum, calls everyone awful names and says awful things. He needs to control everything. While I love my step dad because he helped raise me, he is a controlling abusive person. And while he has a lot of psychological damage himself I’m not going to get into that, but know that he has a kind heart, and he does love my mother and he would die for her. But when he loses his temper he says horrible things. And he knows about the abuse my mum suffered at the hands of my bio dad, and how she has never healed. My bio dad told my mum she couldn’t cook, and if she ever left him he’d get the kids even though he was a raging alcoholic, couldn’t hold down a job AND she was doing all the child care on top of a full time job. Like she had the daycare ladies prepared to call 911 if we didn’t show up at daycare when she was out of town for work, but I’m off track here. The point I’m trying to get to is my step dad would abuse my mum, and use things my bio dad did or said to her, to hurt her more. An example of this is, if my mum tried to walk away during one of my step dads yelling fits, he would say “yeah, walk away just like you did with [my bio dad’s name]”. Because he knows she blames herself for leaving him, and she thinks his death was her fault. My step dad knows my mum will never leave him, because of what my bio dad did when she left. He could burn their house down around them and she wouldn’t leave.

With that story I would like to say, please don’t judge my mum or either of my dads. You don’t know the whole story and I don’t want to share all of it. I’m using it as an example because I know it well.

The point in trying to make here, is one it’s very VERY common for people to go from one abusive relationship to another. Because abusers can recognize the signs of a victim, and those who were abused, when treated with even a small amount of love, or kindness often see it as a very big deal. They tend to think they are worthless or don’t deserve it, as they’ve been told many times over. Two, believe it or not, being abused before can make people more susceptible to being abused again. This is because of the reasons mentioned above, they think they are worthless, or are wooed by very small acts, or both. And three, that the new partner can and often will use personal things about the abuse they suffered from someone else, to control or hurt their partner more, becuase they know it’s already a deep seated pain. And while I’m not saying Sierra is for sure 100% doing this, it is very easily a possibility and she could be doing some of it without knowing. Just because a year, or 5 or 10 have gone by doesn’t mean the person has healed, and sometimes new partners open old wounds. This has been a whole TEDtalk sorry y’all. Also disclaimer if anyone comes into the ask box saying rude things about my family it will be deleted and you will be blocked.

[alexander-anders]

Is that { he/him + Garrett Hedlund } walking through the door? Oh no, that’s just  { Alex Anders }. They’re { 31 } and room with { Nico Daimen }. Sometimes they might remind you of { yellow paint, muddy hands, broken mirrors}, and they’ve lived in the house for { two months }.

for those of you who don’t already know him, this is my sad, difficult child. He causes me much pain and I love him, but I’m also sorry for any characters who attempt to interact with him. Anyway, allow me to explain his shit past in bullet points below ~

tw: death tw: ptsd tw: war

Alex grew up in deep Texas. Like, DEEP Texas, small town, the works. He had a single mom and he was an accident, the last of five boys. His siblings did not care for him, making him kind of the black sheep of the family, the one that always ended up getting picked on. 

He was always a little odd, but most people blamed it on him being the youngest. He was five when it took a more serious turn, he started responding to voices that nobody heard and talking about things just before they happened. It was an impossible feat, and everyone did their best to hide that part of him. Magic might be acceptable in their world, but less so in their area and certainly not this form of magic. Psychics were not welcomed, at least not when it came to their family. 

So Alex did his best to suppress the powers and spent most of his childhood in solitude. The best thing to happen to him was in high school when he was sent to the school counselor on his second day. She had her own magic and was able to recognize his gifts, take pity on him. She taught him how to control it, suppress it only when necessary, even use it to his advantage. 

At that point, Alex realized he was actually very smart. He was able to put more focus on school, and by the time he graduated, he had his pick of colleges. He knew exactly what he wanted; to help people. He picked the most difficult road he could and started working towards medical school. When it came time to choosing a specific path, that was easy too. He wanted to go where he felt he could do the most good, so he joined the military. 

It was not a good choice. Shipped off to a foreign fort under heavy fire, he spent two years in hell. Unable to gain relief, he was trapped there in horrific conditions, doing whatever he could to keep the men around him alive and together. Living with them in his head, under claustrophobic living conditions, he eventually snapped. 

Alex walked out in the middle of the night, in the open. He’s still not sure how far he made it, before he walked into an IUD. Miraculously, he didn’t lose any limbs. He did land on a rock that left a dent in his skull and permanently ruined his ability to shut things off. He woke up from it as a prisoner of war, spending the next two years in a dirty jail cell. 

He never expected a rescue, but it came anyway. People were calling him a hero and telling him he was going home. They told him that his family would be coming to pick him up, and unwilling to face them, Alex left. He started walking and he didn’t stop until he found and airport and bought the first ticket out of the country with the money he’d been given with an honorable discharge. 

The plane landed in Paris. He wandered, for a while, living off the streets and the kindness of strangers. Eventually, one of those strangers was decent enough to take him to  Les Amis de l'ABC. He had a room, he had work, he had something to do again. And it got easier. Working kept the demons in his head at bay, and while the nightmares haven’t gone away altogether, the’ye getting better. 

Okay so because I understand that doesn’t really explain everything about Alex or what he can do, allow me to throw some extra random stuff at you: 

His abilities: I’m hesitant to say ‘abilities’ honestly, bc this is not an abilities rp. But he does have a specific form of magic and DO NOT ask him to try spells, it won’t end well. So, here’s what he can do: 

Telepathy: Alex can hear people’s thoughts. Well, Alex can’t NOT hear people’s thoughts. They’re not always definite words, and some people are more clouded or guarded. But, he can’t stop himself from hearing, and sometimes it gets way too loud for him. Sometimes he also can’t keep track of what’s thought and what’s said out loud and responds to thoughts. 

Empathy: He doesn’t really feel what people are feeling as much as he sees their emotions in colors. Kind of like an aura around them. He has a color for most emotions, but sometimes it comes across as an adjective like ‘streaky’ or ‘curly’ instead. 

Psychometry: When Alex touches things, he can get a read off of them. Sometimes it’s a memory, if it was a strong one. Sometimes it’s just a feeling connected to the object. If it’s a person, touch usually just makes his other powers stronger. 

Clairvoyance: This one is MUCH weaker and rarer than the rest, for him. He very occasionally gets flashes of things that are about to happen, or could happen. They don’t always come about, and he doesn’t always know if it’s real or just his mind making things up. Occasionally, he can seek something out, but it’s really not a trustworthy enough gift for him to rely on. 

Personality: So my child is a little scrambled in the brain. He has some MAJOR PTSD and Survivor’s Guilt, and his brain damage has sort of messed up his ability to talk straight. So he uses a lot of riddles and metaphors and generally I just decided I wanted to challenge myself with a character and created this absolute disaster of a human, please love him, please plot with me <3

[blumearts]

pallette 79

(I’ve started a little “series” thing. I’ve got ideas for all of the Potter-Malfoy kids and I’ll be releasing drawings and headcanons of them. I hope you enjoy!! I’d advise that you go look at the other kid’s stuff to avoid confusion)

The next of the Potter-Malfoy kids I’d like to introduce you to is Eltanin

It was May of 2006, and Eudora was about 4-5 months along with Alsafi when Harry opened the front door to find a baby snoozing on his doorstep. 

The baby looked newly born, with tufts of hair on his head, two patches of which, Harry noticed, were bright white.

With the shock of it all, Harry dropped a quite heavy bag he had been planning to bring with him to work

It made a loud thunk right next to the baby + harry just winced expecting to hear shrieks of crying

but the baby was silent

Harry ofc immediately hurried him inside to make sure he was warm and alive with no obvious problems.

and that’s when the baby began to wail 

It’s crying echoed through the house, loud enough to wake up the whole house. (8 y/o Teddy, 4 y/o twins, 2 y/o Cassiopeia and of course, nearly 26 y/o Draco)

Harry wasn’t able to quiet the baby + was v scared that perhaps the baby was in pain or had some sort of medical issue.

So, Draco stumbles down stairs + before he sees the baby he’s yawning and asking why Cassiopeia is shrieking that loudly 

… and then he freezes. that baby is not Cassiopeia. He’s much smaller, and much darker. 

he’s only frozen for a grand total of 2 seconds before he starts to freak out

“whO’S BABY IS THAT?! WHY DO YOU HAVE A BABY ?! OH GOD. HARRY DID YOU STEAL A BABY?!” 

+ for just a hot, terrifying second, Draco looks around expecting to find Eudora. But no, this wasn’t their baby, Alsafi. It was too big to be so premature.

Harry , still trying to rock the baby attempts to calmly explain that no, he did not steal a baby. 

 In the wee hours of this morning, Draco + Harry are running around trying to figure out what to do.

They finally get the baby to quiet down in Draco’s arms, while Harry sits across from him. 

Draco’s looking down at the boy and with a jolt, sees that his eyes are open. and he just kind of… gaps down at him. 

“…harry… his eyes… one’s- one’s bright blue.” He just whispers distractedly and bit concerned. 

He generally wouldn’t be concerned about Heterochromia, but the fact that this boy did not seem to be able to genetically have any shade of blue eyes worried him 

perhaps he had been cursed and left to them?

Harry comes over too and stares down at the infant. Something is itching at the back of brain

 “We have to take him to St. Mungo’s don’t we?” 

So they send a fire message to Molly to come watch the kids while before flooing over to St. Mungos.

Mediwitches take the boy and inspect him, all while Draco and Harry wait in another room, anxious.

They’re eventually told that the boy is a newborn and looks to have “Moderate Sedendum Syndrome” which the muggles call “Type II Waardenburg Syndrome.”

The boy is permanently deaf and has pigmentation issues. The only major concern is that they need to watch him for Kidney and Pulmonary Artery Abnormalities, but he should be fine. 

The mediwitch also shows them that a boy had been written on on his stomach, leaving a message that his parents did not want him because of his condition (in which, they thought it a curse) and that they left it with Draco and Harry because they’re “collecting kids anyway? What’s one more?”

This message later leaves Hermione to make the note that the baby’s parents are probably purebloods, as they didn’t think it could be a mundane defect

Harry gently scrubs it off with his own hands, feeling a bit angry and protective over the boy already 

Then starts the long and complicated meetings with the Social work department of the Ministry. + the long conversations over whether or not they should keep the boy, especially with a son already on the way.

They end up deciding to send him to the “international foster home” I mentioned before bc two newborn babies to take care of in the span of 5 months didn’t seem like something they could realistically handle with all their children.

but that night neither of them can sleep, and in their guts it just feels right to take the boy in. because over all the time trying to figure out what to do with him, they had both been thinking about things like names, and what his room would look like and whether Anita would share with him or not. What house he would be in. What kind of magic he would do.

So they take him (bc shit, their first children were twins, they could do this) and name him Eltanin (Lucius). and get him fitted for hearing aids (cute little ones with nifflers on them) 

They begin to teach the other kids sign language immediately, learning themselves constantly, so that by the time Eltanin is 6 months old, they can start working with him on it. 

they also try to anticipate his future life, Hogwarts and beyond that. 

they meet with lots of people. deaf wizards and muggles as well as parents of deaf wizards and muggles. speech therapists. doctors. specialists. anyone who can give them a full view. (one of these people happen to be Theodore Nott, who had recently had a son who was born with profound hearing loss)

They had a few main questions: Should they encourage him to learn to speak and sign at the same time? Can he even learn to speak with profound hearing loss? Should he get a cochlear implant or not? Should he not go to Hogwarts and instead go to a school for the deaf, where he could feel more culturally intact? 

In short, it all boils down to, how much will his deafness affect his life?

They decide to go ahead with a witch speech therapist, specifically trained to deal with children with profound hearing loss. 

They want him to learn to speak and sign, but were advised not to invest in a cochlear implant, because Eltanin may not want it in the future. He could go to Hogwarts, but should probably have regular contact with other deaf wizards. Which means lots of playdates with Hyacinthus Nott.

he’s not a crier, or a complainer, or a tantrum thrower.

He’ll cry if he needs something and stops when he gets it. If he falls, he asks for a bandaid and moves on. If he’s upset he hides it.

As Eltanin gets older this concerns Harry greatly. He begins to tell Eltanin when he’s 5 that he can come to Harry if he’s upset. That he won’t be mad or judge him if that’s what he’s worried about. That it’s okay to be upset, it’s okay to show that sometimes, even if they aren’t your shining and most proud moments.

But Eltanin is happy kid. He’s very bubbly and one that jokes around a lot

but he’s also sassy. Like.. too sassy for his own good. He’s a back talker and frequent sarcasm user. (He signs sarcastically, I mean. no one even knows how he manages it) 

He insists on continuing the whole “niffler hearing aids” thing for his entire life bc this boy is obsessed with extremely random things

He loves nifflers, finds them fascinating. and the Goblin Rebellions? Don’t even get him started. He also likes Korean Wizard rock bands that Harry constantly dad jokes him about

Though he and Alsafi are only 7 months apart, they end up going into separate years bc of the August cut off and Eltanin never lets him forget it. “I am your older brother, therefore my clear authority over you dictates that…”

He gets to Hogwarts and the hat takes a very long time to decide. Is he a Gryffindor or is he Ravenclaw or …”Slytherin!” 

Eltanin was well liked by his housemates, who immediately learned sign language for him. Even the Slytherins who didn’t know Eltanin learned to sign

It eventually got to the point of being a tradition in the Slytherin house, which was upheld for many decades past Eltanin being there.

(Around 12 Eltanin’s hair turned completely white, which his housemates thought was super cool.)

Everything seemed amazing for Eltanin and the other kids but, at this point people started to talk. 

Those who went through the war and knew what Draco Malfoy did. Those who were so anti-dark wizard that they couldn’t believe- didn’t believe - that Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world, could really marry Draco Malfoy of his own free will, in his right mind. and on the other hand, why would Draco Malfoy want to marry and have kids with Harry Potter anyway? Not to mention, they were turning out mostly Slytherin children…

It was still only whispers and rumors and conspiracy, still things whispered behind hands and laughed at by most. The kids were teased sometimes, something Teddy always put a stop to.

.. until about a year later when Rita Skeeter released a 962 page book. “Draco Malfoy’s Dark Secret” 

It outlined (with plenty of extremely convincing evidence) how Draco is continually slipping Harry love potions in order to trap him, and is now taking in children to brainwash and turn into soldiers, “or worse, experiment on”. It painted Harry as a tragic victim and their kids as possibly dangerous.

To the general public this accusation seemed extremely far fetched and completely silly. Some saying it “worthy of the Lovegoods” until they read it.

When Draco and Harry got a copy in their hands, they were sure that if they hadn’t been them, they would have a hard time not believing this theory, with all the evidence they’d no idea how Rita acquired. 

Ron even half believed it. Harry caught him checking a mug of coffee Draco had made for him, and tried to ask Harry if he was sure of what was going on. 

Harry had just snatched the drink away and gulped it down, looking Ron straight in the eye and refusing to speak to him for days. 

It was the kids who took the brunt of it really. Teddy had graduated and the Slytherins were the only ones who took up for them.

It got so bad that Sirius ended up taking refuge, sleeping in turns in her sibling’s beds and studying between breaks in the Slytherin common room. 

It began to be a normal sight to see red and gold Sirius sitting in their common room.

Rita’s book was even banned in Hogwarts in an attempt to help the kids.

Harry and Draco had to keep holed up inside, with Ginny bringing the necessities.

It was interestingly Neville who came to the aid of Harry. With the help of Luna and Hannah, he put together a book with interviews, pictures and stories from anyone who knew Harry and Draco well.

 Rolf, Hermione, Ron, Dean, Seamus, Pavarti and Padma, all the Weasleys, Dennis Creevey, Eltanin’s speech therapist, Narcissa and Lucius, Andromeda, Hagrid, Professors Mcgonagall, Sprout, Slughorn and Flitwick, Eleanora, various Mediwitches and healers. Mrs Figg, Cho Chang, Viktor Krum, Gabrielle Delacor, and even Blaise, Pansy, Theodore and their spouses showed up to help. 

The book was exactly 963 pages and was simply labeled “the Truth About the Potter-Malfoy Family” 

It didn’t exactly cause the Potter-Malfoys to be considered a group angels, but it did finally quiet the craziness Rita had started.

Eltanin had a relatively normal Hogwarts-career after that fiasco.

He’s the only of the kids that didn’t play quidditch, but you bet your ass he was out there with their names on hid forehead whenever they played.

Eltanin is a fantastic Potioneer

He ended up going by “Malfoy” 

+ after being told about their parents as students, he and Alsafi jokingly sneered “Potter” “Malfoy” at each other whenever they passed

8/13/2017

[probablybackstoryrpgideas]

The story of Thorin Dankil

Im @deliciouslycookingrpgideas This is the backstory of my current character.

(Please note that i had not seen the hobbit yet and didnt know who Thorin Oakenshield was when I named my char)

Hey here ya go. Its 6,000 or so words and if backstory wishes I will make a more readable post about this lol [Mod Note: Thank you so much for submitting! This was a wonderful read, I can tell how much love and time you put into it, so I’m honored to have this as the first submission to the blog.]

This is Thorin Dankil’s Backstory

I was an average young lad. Bright, strong, with an insatiable curiosity. I grew up loved, in a large household, with five siblings, Jensora, Merlyn, Magdal, Tornar, and Emnyl, two parents Barrik and Tizra; it was always hectic. And for his part, Barrik raised his children to be true dwarves, ale drinkin and bar fightin and all. Tizra also raised them when Barrik was away at the war. As they grew, the Dankil family seemed to be at peace.

Then everything changed when the fire nation attacked. One hundred years passed and there is a new avatar, an airbender named Aang. While his airbending skills are great, he has a lot to learn before he’s ready to save anyone. But I believe, Aang can save the world

Jensora (f) and Tornar (m) were twins and the eldests. I was next, and following me was Merlyn (f), then Magdal (m), then Emnyl (f).

Well, the war was goin pretty great. We seemed to be winning. But the elves were great strategists, and even though we were winning, we suffered heavy losses. My father Barrik was among them, or at least he was M.I.A. Around this time my mother Tizra was not taking his death well, even though she knew he went on to a better place. I stepped up and helped out when my siblings could not. I learned I had an immense affinity for cooking, and held a cook off every two weeks, which always seemed to raise some spirits. I could whip up a delicious meal for seven with two zucchini, a tomato and a chicken. And if I added rice, it became a meal for twelve.

As I helped my mother with her grief, I found myself around the church often, and helped Father Beldar with his duties, since he was elderly and mother preferred to grieve alone. I became knowledged about the faith, and even though I had always believed, I found that I really understood everything. I found myself really considering joining the faith, but between my siblings being artisans of sorts and soldiers and scholars and whatnots, and no one to take care of my mother except Emnyl, and myself being reigning champ of the whole county in our annual cook offs for twenty one years running, I had alot on my plate to begin with.

I decided to just try out the faith and if it didn’t work out for me then I would be a chef. So I went to learn more about the faith at the school in Bhaledur about ten miles away. When I went there, I was amazed with how many people could be in one place and not know each other. I found the church easily, and was amazed at how many books were there, and became intent on learning to read them. I also really enjoyed learning of clerics who could, through devotion, conjure great feats of magic, perhaps even raise the dead.

And when I talked with my classmates (which I will get into in a moment) (well, only one of them i suppose ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ), I found many of them had things in common with me. Saweryn Thoras gave me a run for my money as best chef in town, and we spent many a night trying to one up each other. Seja Gorotan and I shared an interest in the magical aspect of school, and we shared several long nights in a back closet, (explained why not our rooms in a moment) learning the ins and outs of the magic process.

Despite being a large facility, we had to share rooms with another person, genders being separated, which makes sense for the most part. Though as far as I understood, copulation among non married people or even among priests was never frowned upon.

This was where I met Gadrin Branka. This son of a bitch was going to be the cause of a lot of my inner turmoil. He was devilishly handsome, I mean the guy could turn and wink and you’d be as mud in his hands, he could do anything he wanted with you. He was a fencer. An award winning one too. He also had a heart of gold, he was the kindest person I met, excluding a few key individuals. And damn did he have pipes. The man could sing a tune and the mountains themselves would be so moved they cried. Gadrin was going to be my best friend for years. We had all but one class together, him having conversion: bringing others to the faith and me having medical herbology.

Gadrin and I were inseparable. We spent almost every moment together when not with other students, and even then we were constantly together. We would sleep, eat, study, and party together. We were so close we could tell people stories about the other’s great grandmother.  

It changed a bit on the third friday after I took the big herbology test in my third year there. It was a normal friday, we (Gadrin and myself) would go to class and then off to Saweryn Thoras’s home to party. Well, Gadrin and I had a bit too much to drink, even for dwarves. And, after an embarrassing game of stack the dwarf, (which Gadrin and I lost btw) we all played a version of truth or dare. Well it went great, a few dares here concerning the plant in the corner of the room, a few truths about crushes and such there. But then Seja Gorotan (now Saweryn’s gf btw) had a brilliant idea. So she dared Gadrin to kiss me. And he turned and gave me that stare that I can still feel today, ooh mama he was hot. Well we lock eye contact, and he goes in for it. Well I’m sure as hell not stoppin him so we lock lips and go for it. It was a few minutes later when I was called on to say truth or dare when I realized we were still kissing. We broke apart and I could tell Gadrin was hoping it could continue much longer. I winked at him and made some remark about continuing later and he brightened up considerably, much to the amusement of our host. But we continued to play the game and eventually moved on to a version of five dragon ante, which I failed miserably at. Both Gadrin and I were terrible at cards. We could bullshit like no body’s business, but as far as the game, we were both shit drunk. We found ourselves back at the complex and fell asleep in the same bed, Gadrin’s arm nestled neatly around me as we cuddled. We didn’t talk about it for a few days bc we both knew we liked it, but Gadrin (I) needed a bit of time to process what this meant.

After we discussed it, we started dating slowly and were more inseparable than before. It annoyed our single friends so much they would deliberately sit in between us just so they wouldn’t have to look as we cuddled, much to our amusement.

It was customary that clerics served in the military as medical personnel for a few years before moving on to see if we had a calling for it. So Gadrin and I requested to be put on the same post so we could have someone to screw around with. Well we got it, but at the front lines. It was hard work. When we weren’t in the med tent performing miracles for soldiers with almost no supplies, we were sleeping or eating. I once had to make a poultice with only half the potency because we had to ration the damn herbs. And it certainly didn’t help that the cook couldn’t make half decent food with twice the ingredients. So for a week on my one break a day I would go there to show him how to cook decently in hopes of making the food better. It improved sharply and I was commended for it. Gadrin and I didn’t have much time together, but when we could we would hang out.

But then we were transferred. We moved further south, to a different front line post. We became intensely good at healing soldiers, myself surpassing Gadrin. But we were the only two medics for three whole battalions of soldiers. For reference, a battalion is around 300 to 800 soldiers. So we had our work cut out for us. I found myself sleeping in the med tent so when I woke up I could help out immediately, and Id send a wounded but walking man to grab me some victuals (food) and give Gadrin a kiss for me, which the wounded man thought was hilarious.

To tell the truth, it was going very well, and besides the backbreaking work, the dwarven army seemed to be winning. We’d lose a battle here and there, but not usually very badly. But this changed at the battle of Forgebar Hill. We had pushed hard and gained about seven miles of ground into enemy territory, and the rest of the front line was right behind us, Gadrin and I working on people even as we moved. We jumped camps a few times and helped the most seriously injured soldiers, getting thanks and respect as we went. I found that if I asked Pelor for assistance in healing, the soldiers seemed to heal twice as fast as before. So every day I would sit and thank Pelor for the new day and the opportunity to help others. If a soldier was gravely ill, I could ask Pelor for help and the man would be miraculously saved, his wounds healing dramatically before my very eyes. Modern medicine working only so well, I knew Pelor and His allies were watching us.

But Forgebar Hill was different. As soon as we saw it, it made us all uneasy. No one could tell why, but it held about it the air of the unknown. As we approached it we stopped upon the hill, a momentary lapse in moving to see what we could upon it. We stood on top and could see the spires of an Elven city in the distance. Behind us, we could see the mountains many call home. It was a momentary calm, and we heard shouts as a scouting patrol returning. We ran down the hill and a bloodied scout with only one arm came up to us, shouting that we should turn back. I fixed him up and asked him what was coming, but he couldn’t speak, he was so petrified (that means scared). We sent another scouting patrol out to find what did this to him, for the elves never removed limbs and left a man, they would always either capture or kill, no maiming unless necessary. I respected the elves for that.

When two hours had passed and I had run out of men to patch up, we still had not heard from the scouts so we decided to march on and deal with the problem ourselves. As we approached a large glade, we heard the familiar sounds of battle, but we had sent no troops to this area yet, only six scouts, one of which returned. We looked and saw a small elven unit fighting a rather large group of ogres. They were heavily outnumbered and were suffering heavy losses. But as our group looked closer, we noticed several things. The elves were protecting their wounded, who were crawling away from battle. They were also protecting two hurt dwarven scouts. A murmur went through the ranks and we decided that in this instance elves and dwarves would fight together.

With a war cry, our soldiers ran from the woods and fought the ogres. The battle was hard and long, our soldiers falling and barely clinging to life as I struggled to have the strength to continue healing. I lost sight of Gadrin. The elven reinforcements came and we fought for hours side by side until the ogre shaman arrived. With a whoop, the despicable creature could maim twenty soldiers; with a yell, heal his own from the brink of death. The shaman was also up almost in the front lines, smashing in skulls with his club and casting spells when needed.

We were losing, even with the reinforcements. Another cry from the shaman and our last few soldiers fell. Myself and an elven cleric were the only two left standing. Thinking that the only way to get out is to pray, I start praying to Pelor fervently, asking him for assistance in any way he sees fit as part of his plan, and if I should die, I would be at peace with it, for it was His will. Suddenly, I felt a great power fill me, revitalizing myself (filling me up with energy), and I stood tall, as if I had just eaten breakfast and was ready for a long day’s work. I knew exactly what to do. With a supernatural vigor, I ran at the enemy, catching them off guard with my battle cry. I screamed words I didn’t recognize and my armor shone like the sun. (This was pre-shield, which I’ll get into later). Our soldiers started standing up, their wounds and limbs healing as they stood, bringing them back to life, fresh for battle.

The enemy seemed shaken by this sudden display of raw power. Our troops pushed into them, advancing and cutting them down where they stood. It was a slaughter. We killed the whole tribe of ogres and sustained no losses. When I had realized this, I also realized my armor was no longer glowing, and I felt a little light headed. I thanked Pelor, and almost passed out where I stood, but there was another thing to take care of. Our forces split into elves and dwarves once more, and we stood there staring at each other for a long time. I think we had all decided that elves, or at least these elves, were alright, and both our parties spent the next day celebrating the victory.  

Our group then sent the other to go back to their council and bring ambassadors to this spot, and we could stop this war. Well we went back to the dwarven council of elders and got an ambassador, learning that similar things had been happening all across the borders, and that evil creatures, ogres, goblins, trolls, etc were becoming more aggressive, thinking themselves able to overtake the elves or the dwarves as we focused on the war. Well, this was not going to happen. We stopped fighting the elves and worked with them to fight back the evil, then we celebrated the end of the war.

After the celebrating, it was time to come home. So Gadrin and I went back to the town we first met, (Bhaledur) promising to return once we met with our families. We parted ways and left.

At home, a small town called Vol Tarum, I was praised as a hero. And, while not entirely incorrect, I attributed my success to Pelor. I reunited with my family, Tizra, Emnyl, Jensora and Tornar, Magdal, and Merlyn. Mother seemed very happy and it was nice to see her smile so much. We spent a week just enjoying company and sharing stories of work and adventures and such. It was nice to get to meet everyone again, since I had been gone for three years, only occasionally returning for the four years prior. I fixed wonderful meals, and our town celebrated for a few days. We felt the need to return to our crafts and churches and adventures, and our little family parted ways again.  

I met back up with Gadrin, who had been waiting for a few days. I apologized and we spoke for hours about our various siblings and how we felt and we had fun. We took jobs as helpers around the church, teaching classes here, leading sermons there, the occasional exorcism or resurrection, fun stuff.

A few weeks later, I reflected on my time with Gadrin, for we had spent seven years together, and they were wonderful. We have been through college, dating, war, we were inseparable. And so I decided that we would lay low for a bit, then I would ask Gadrin to marry me.

So for a few months we worked and drank and learned more and lived our lives, Gadrin and I still maintaining our wonderful bond. Well, I had decided it was time when he spent one afternoon planning a very romantic steak dinner that he cooked himself, and we had a very fun night afterwards, definitely playing scrabble and not any other activities. [Author’s note: For readers of this story, playing scrabble means fucking]

So I told him I was leaving to see my folks again and left to go follow dwarven marriage custom.

In dwarven marriage custom, a proposal is not usually done with a ring, because it has no practical purpose. We give each other things to help, like a fancy new sword, or perhaps a new axe for firewood. These things are often hand crafted, and sometimes multiple items are given, though only one is used for the proposal.  

I knew that i needed to give him something special, but for the life of me I couldn’t think of anything. Then it hit me. I should do two things for him. One, make him a sword. Two, write him a song. I am only mildly musically talented, but he sings beautifully, so it would be nice to do this for him.  

I headed up to the spire of the church that night to help me think, and it was cool. The lights were twinkling like stars, and the stars shone like the moon, and the moon glowed beautifully.  

As I sat there pondering my options, one of the stars shown a bit harder than the others. It seemed to be getting brighter and larger. I looked closer and it seemed to look closer at me. I was confused, then realized this star was falling. It was coming at the ground. I watched in awe as it streaked down across the sky and crashed about two large hills away from town. I felt compelled to go see what a star looked like up close, so I got down and went, riding a horse the few mile distance.

I arrived at the crater, peering inside and seeing a glowing rock, white and black patches all over it. It was sizable, large enough to fit two dwarves in there. It looked peculiar, and I looked closer. It looked movable, and I immediately knew what to make for Gadrin. I could see myself forging a sword and a few sets of rings, perhaps a dagger or something out of it.

I went back to town and bought a wagon, returning and taking the fallen star. I took it to Sluwth Peak, where the huge forge is. Many people come here to create gifts for their partner.

There, I ran into Seja Gorotan again. I had last seen her in college. After exchanging pleasantries, she apparently had just made a silver hand trowel for Saweryn, her soon to be husband, with any luck. During the war they had been separated but found each other afterwards. Apparently they had the same idea that I had. She wished me luck and pointed me to a smaller shack, connected to the mountain off to the side of the path. She said that while it wasn’t traditional, it might be better than waiting for the big forge up top. So I took my wagon off to the side and into the shack. As I walked, I saw a person leave and I could’ve sworn they looked just like Gadrin.

The room was huge, going into the mountain. It was filled with hundreds of tools, weapons, metals, labels for everything. There was a huge forge, burning white hot with molten metal. There was a large gruff dwarf there, clearly an ancient mountain dwarf (not a bad thing of course, just less homely in my opinion) [Author’s note: the char is a hill dwarf]. He was working with a hammer larger than most children, and was pounding out what seemed to be an enormous great axe, large enough to be used by a dire ogre, if there was such a thing. He pounded and stuck it into water and heated it and pounded for awhile. I stood there admiring his handiwork for a few minutes, and he finished working on the great axe, plunging it into the water for the final time.

Without looking, he asked me what I was doing in his place. I replied, explaining what I had planned to do, and my conversation with Seja. He nodded, and asked me to be quiet for a moment. He took this great great axe and put it into a large stand on the other side of the room, with many jars and spices and herbs and scrolls around it, neatly categorized by the look of it. He set the axe upon the stand, then took an empty jar and filled it with a pinch of this spice, a sprig of that herb, and filled it with water. He mixed it all up into a thick paste, and spread it over the blade, reading from a scroll as he did so. It was partly in druidic, and partly in a language I had never heard of, and couldn’t recognize its words. If I had to guess, it was old. Eldritch old. When he was done, the paste evaporated and the axe gleamed as though in the sun. He wrapped it in a thick, white cloth, then set it against a wall, writing T. M. on it.

He turned to me, and I noticed immediately that he had a scar on his left cheek, and he wore an piece of cloth over that eye. He asked me where the star was and I pointed to the large wagon I left in the entryway. He nodded as he looked over the star. He told me it was called a meteorite. He said he had worked with it before, and knew what to do.

For hours, I labored at that rock, breaking it and melting it down into a molten state. I forged a wonderful rapier, shaping it and cooling it, heating it and shaping it again. It took hours, but that sword was the strongest thing I had ever seen. I set a piece of tiger eye in the hilt since it was Gadrin’s favorite gem.

Once it was done, the old man took the sword, setting it on the same stand as he had the great axe. He spoke similar, but not the same words as before, grabbing different spices and herbs and he filled the jar with water and spread the paste. The rapier shown as the axe did and he covered it with a cloth, placing it next to the axe and writing a T. D. on it, which I can only guess stood for my name. I then got to work on the rings. I fashioned a ring twice the length as a normal ring, and was told later I’d split it in two, as directed by the old man.

Once it was done, I admired my own handiwork. The ring was intricate, with winding bands of meteorite. The man took it and set it on the stand. He grabbed many spices and herbs, and then grabbed a box from behind the forge. He poured in a purple goo instead of water, and dropped the ring into the mix, saying words that seemed more dramatic than the others. The jar glowed and the air had a hum to it, and then it stopped. He wrapped the ring in a blue cloth and set it on the table, writing a T. D. on it. I asked what the purple goo stuff was for, and he just smiled a toothy grin and didn’t answer.

I made a dagger, and then a mace, using the same procedure. For the dagger, he did the same thing as for the axe and the rapier. For the mace, he did a similar thing as the ring. When I asked him once more what the goo was for, he smiled and grinned, but he told me it would come in handy when it needed to. I don’t know what that meant, but he seemed sure, so I didn’t clarify. I split the ring at his direction and it split perfectly in two, with no rough edges.

I kept the rest of the meteorite in case I needed to make something else, and said farewell to the old man. I left with my items and went to try to write a song for my love.

It was not going well. I had zero inspiration and was wandering the countryside and couldn’t think of anything. I climbed a big hill and sat under the tree, trying to think of anything to make into a song.

I had more or less an idea of what to write, but I had a hard time thinking of it. I would write some down, and at this point I had this much done:

Gadrin my friend as I see you right there, I reflect on the time that I’ve spent with you here, From college to war and to death and then back, I realize the only thing that I do lack, I have riches and armors and food stuffs galore, And work and my friends and the priests of Pelor, I have everything that I could want in the land, The one thing that I want left is your hand.

It sounded pretty great, and I hit a roadblock so I changed locations again. I went to a lake and went out on a boat, lying there and wondering.

I hit inspiration again and finished my song.

I wrote this fair song right on here just for you, In the hope that you feel just the same as I do, We both do a lot, keep the other from harm, But now I just want to be here in your arms, I wrote you this song and then forged you a sword, And I hope that I make you feel like you’re a lord, Now there is one thing left my husband to be, My dear old friend Gadrin would you marry me?

I decided this was pretty great and headed on home to ask my friend to marry me.

So I headed on back to Bhaledur and entered our little home in the church. I was shocked to find Gadrin was not there, since it was around eight and we always would come back to mess around before we left for drinkin. Well I decided to look around our house. We had the wicker seats around the table, the strong oak table, the intricate lighting fixture. I went in the kitchen, the pots and pans and such sittin there like always. As I passed the bedroom, I decided to unpack and put everything away. I decided to stash the rapier under the bed, and found a large, blue cloth covered item, sittin there under our bed. I recognized the cloth as the same that the rings were in, and it had a G. B. on it. Realizing that that had meant the person I saw at Sluwth Peak was Gadrin, I knew he meant to ask me as well. I thought for a moment, and knew exactly what to do.

I took the sword, the rings, and Gadrin’s guitar with me as I left the house. I went to the little shop just outside the church and bought a large amount of candles. I went back to the house and made sure Gadrin hadn’t shown up yet. I left a note on the table, telling Gadrin to follow the candles. I started lighting candles and leaving a trail to the staircase, and up to the high spire of the church. I lit a ring on the edge of the spire and sat, strumming the guitar to the tune of my song.  

I waited for about fifteen minutes, then heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I sat up, strumming the guitar as the person walked up the steps. I saw Gadrin’s face and immediately grinned in response to his slightly confused expression. I waited for him to come all the way up and then started my song.  

“Gadrin my friend as I see you right there, I reflect on the time that I’ve spent with you here, From college to war and to death and then back, I realize the only thing that I do lack, I have riches and armors and food stuffs galore, And work and my friends and the priests of Pelor, I have everything that I could want in the land, The one thing that I want left is your hand.

I wrote this fair song right on here just for you, In the hope that you feel just the same as I do, We both do a lot, keep the other from harm, But now I just want to be here in your arms, I wrote you this song and then forged you a sword, And I hope that I make you feel like you’re a lord, Now there is one thing left my husband to be, My dear old friend Gadrin would you marry me?”

He looked stunned, and I presented the rings to him. He took one, still not speaking, and looked at it. He put in on his finger and looked at it some more. He then fixed his gaze upon me and breathed a “yes”, understandably still a bit stunned by my song and the candles and everything. I put my ring on and they glowed a light purple for a moment before quieting down. He asked me if I had met the old man with the scar as well and I had. I walked up to him, looking into his deep brown eyes. We passionately kissed. When we finished, I pulled away to bring him the sword, unveiling it and handing it to him. He swung it about and such as a sword lover ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) might do, and voiced his admiration for my handiwork, telling me it was perfectly balanced.

We went back to our home and he told me to wait. He went and grabbed two things from the bedroom. He unwrapped one of them (both blue), revealing a frying pan. I held it, noticing it had a heft to it, but wasn’t unusable. It was actually really sweet he thought of that. I still have that pan, and use it all the time. Then he revealed a beautiful shield, intricately made and strong. It was a circular shield. It held my personal favorite symbol of Pelor, the circle with the points, which was raised and placed upon the metallic sheen of silver (the silver covering a stronger metal) as a nice golden contrast. It had runic symbols on the edges in celestial. They read something along the lines of “Great Pelor, protect the wielder from all forces of Evil, and help him/her to destroy it, wherever he/she may go.” It was a nice prayer, and for a moment, when I picked it up, it glowed.

Well, as in unspoken tradition, we played scrabble for a long while and slept in the next day. We announced it to our friends and family the next day, and got married two weeks later.  

For our honeymoon, we went to Trilik Slopes. We saw these beautiful spires of stone, that seemed to be as red as fire in the morning, the light of the sun glinting off of it very well.  

Then we went camping in the Ice Caves. We saw wonderful icicles and ice covered stalagmites and stalactites. We camped for a week. At one point, while climbing around in the caves, I passed an ice sculpture that looked strikingly like Pelor’s face. I turned to point it out to Gadrin but he was nowhere to be found. I turned back to the ice, and heard a voice in my head.

Unknown speaker: Thorin Dankil. Me: Yes? US: You told me once that if I helped you, you would do anything for me. I am calling upon you now.   Me: Pelor? US: I am. Me: What may I do for you? P: I need you to leave for the ogre border in twelve days’ time. Me: Of course My Lord. Thank you for being so generous with the time. P: Remember, leave in twelve days’ time.

I returned to Gadrin and broke the news. He took it well, considering I might not return. Well I said goodbye to my family, and packed heavily. I left the meteorite with Gadrin, but I took most of our kitchen, my shield, my mace, several other things. And I left, traveling right to the border, and beyond.

About three miles in, I came across a not entirely uncommon sight. There was a large wagon that looked to be broken in by several ogres, judging by the amount of smashing done. It was burned at parts, indicating a shaman, so I was on my guard. Ya gotta always be on your guard around shamans. As I walked further along the trail, I found the ogre shaman, but with his head smashed in. By a war hammer to the looks of it. He was just lying there dead as a doornail, and I had respect for anyone who could take one out so efficiently as one blow, since I myself had seen the damage these creatures could do. Well I took the gold and spell things and such from his pockets, and continued along my way. Later, I saw a dwarf trying to take on no less than three ogres at the same time. It was actually impressive. He traded blows, this swipe went to that ogre, and this one to this ogre, and this one smashed in the skull of one of em. He took one down with his war hammer and continued. I decided to speak before helping, just in case it mattered.  

Me: Hey.   Unknown Dwarf: Hey.   Me: You need some help there?   UD: Nah I’m good. Me: You sure? UD: *getting pummeled by ogres* Yeah I’m sure. Mosey along Me: So what’s your name, stranger? UD: My name’s Braelof, don’t wear it *gets sucker punched* ooph. Out Me: Alrighty then *decides to help* Me&B: *take them down* B: I had ‘em on the ropes ya know, I didn’t need your help Me: yeah yeah i know. Hey, I’m on a quest for Pelor, any chance you’d like to come along? There’s gold and treasure and eternal glory in it for ya B: Fine. But I still had ‘em Me: alright

We left the ogre lands, leaving along the coast to a port town, where I met with other Priests and conversed with them. They suggested following the coast until something changed, for that was what they had done in their adventuring years. They reminisced for a while, and Braelof and I were on our way, picking up odd jobs like “save my daughter from the cave bear” and “return my family heirloom to me” and such.

Well later Braelof and I met up with Selidor, and he can tell you that story, and then Mialee, who can as well. And obviously you know how you got here, Myrtle.

[Author’s note: Myrtle is my adopted 6 or 7 year old daughter]

So yeah thanks for reading about me n such. Im suprised this all fit lol

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Do you have any headcanons for ftm trans scout? Tf2 is a great game but it could use a little more representation..

Actually, I have a favourite little fanfic about exactly that. 

[That Name by Diredevil]

-

Headcanons?

Well, when they first band together, we know Scout is LOUD about how amazing a guy he is, and how fast/smart/strong/etc he is. And I think, perhaps under the circumstances there would be two reasons…The first being to establish himself as he/him to the group unforgettably, and secondly, to make himself feel comfortable in a new environment where things are uncertain.

That is to say, at home it’d been a bit weird for a bit as his Ma and brothers kept accidentally using [dead name] instead of Jeremy, and the wrong pronouns, but they got it eventually. Ma had cried when she realised, not bc there was anything wrong with Scout… just that “she’d accidentally given him the wrong name” (bc she had [dead name] and Jeremy picked out before he was born]. It was pretty touching.

Sure, someone made a smart comment about it… but Scout rarely had to raise a bat, before someone in the family was breaking their teeth and demanding they respect their brother. It was nice.

But on base, with RED? This was a different kettle of fish.

Scout had impulsively taken the job, even if it worried his family, that he was so far away with strangers. They didn’t say it out loud, but they didn’t want him away somewhere they couldn’t get to, if he needed them. And vice versa.The family was a Unit, and while their reputation kept low-level problems away, there were always threats that needed more than one person alone to deal with. 

Scout had fidgeted just about out of his skin the whole train ride to Teufort, it was boring as hell, especially for someone who liked to run. Besides, he was a bit worried about the outfit. You could see faint outlines of his bandages through it… he’d come up with a million excuses as to why he was wearing them… but who knew what would come out of his mouth when he was asked?

After a few useless minutes of internally panicking over it, Scout shoves the thoughts away and starts to hype himself up… 

RED didn’t just pick anyone, yeah? They needed the fuckin’ best!And here he was, the BEST at what he did!

-

Arriving was no big deal. 

Some others were there, others still coming. The Sniper seemed nice, but distant, but according to the others he was always like that. He seemed quiet, too, which was maybe why he’d just about run for cover when Scout started to rapidfire talk at the poor bugger… Funny, most Aussies were more… well, MORE. Then again, Scout wasn’t gonna go pointing fingers at the guy.He’d nearly been crushed by the Pyro’s hug, and Engineer slung a companionable arm over Scout’s shoulders as the Texan showed the runner about the place. If he noticed anything amiss, the man said nothing. Very friendly pair… Scout’d thought, til he saw the fucking flamethrower Pyro used… the way the flames reflected off the empty gasmask lenses sent a thrill of fear through the runner.

There was a Spy somewhere… Engie said he’d probably seen Scout already and would make himself known eventually.

The Soldier and Demo were playing cards when he’d met them; Soldier was almost as loud, and Demo seemed amazingly friendly. They’d invited him to play, but Engie pointed out they’d need to finish the tour first… 

So far, so good.

The Heavy hadn’t come in yet, something about having to take a secret flight out of Russia. And the Medic arrived an hour after Scout, so their introduction was brief… but the man had taken hold of the runner’s arm, when Engie was further ahead and asked how he was doing; and mentioned that he was aware of ‘zhe situation, so Scout should not hesitate to come to Medic vith any concerns, ja?’

Which was nice, but a little shocking even though it shouldn’t be. The doc would have been told… it was just, Scout wasn’t quite ready for others outside the immediate family and neighbourhood to know, right?

Medic had patted his shoulder, frowned a moment to himself, then ambled away. It was then the runner realised the man had a live, blood-spattered dove, on his shoulder… ‘Archimedes’ turns out, how’d he missed that?

Still, it was a solid introduction… his room was pretty nice, the lounge area or ‘common room’ had a sorta okay couch and a tv, so that was great. They were ordering pizza for dinner, but Engie mentioned something about making a cooking roster, once everyone’d settled in… that sounded exciting… not.Scout, despite his Ma’s best attempts to teach him, couldn’t cook for shit. Well, toast and basic stuff, but he swears the one time he tried to make a cake for his Ma’s birthday, the recipe book caught fire before he could start… it could sense an impending disaster.

The only real bother was… the bathroom. Standard set-up of a high school locker room, really… lockers, mirrors and sinks, a few cubicles, a urinal or two… and a long row of showers. Where were the stalls Miss P promised?

Fuck, this was going to be a problem.

Thankfully, he was still touring with Medic, who leaned over to mention that the Infirmary happened to have a small bathroom ‘vhich just so happened to have a shower if he vas interested’… and the runner let out a sigh of relief. “Doc, I could fuckin’ kiss ya…” he beamed, and the German chuckled.“Another time, perhaps, Herr Scout… I have to unpack first.” 

Seems like everything was pretty settled then. 

-

Miss Pauling called in, bringing the Heavy (or, as Scout first assumed, a mountain with a FACE holy shit the dude was big) with her. She spoke to each merc in turn, ascertaining whether they’d noticed anything they needed or if they’d noticed anything broken.

She was also trying to work out groceries, they’d get a weekly delivery from the local store at whatever base they ended up on… but for now there was an ad hoc list being tossed together. If they needed anything else… well, there was always the store itself. Engie had a truck, Medic an ambulance and the Sniper, his van.

Apparently this Spy fellow had a vehicle, but no one had seen him to ask. 

When Miss P got to Scout, and god did he have the worst crush on this amazing woman, she asked the same questions she had the others… then quietly leaned in to mention that if he told her his preferred brand, she could make certain any sanitary items he needed were sent on a bi-weekly basis. Maybe a calendar too. 

“Generous as you are smart and gorgeous, Miss P…” he’d grinned back, trying to charm.

She’d laughed, lightly, and put on a sympathetic smile. “Thank you, though you should know I’m not really into guys… or I’d date you in a heartbeat.” she teased. 

That? That sent Scout’s confidence into overdrive for the rest of the day… right up until he first met Spy.

-

Scout had taken a quick shower in the Infirmary when everyone else was busy. But as he left, he ran straight into Spy… the man literally appearing out of nowhere. He swore quite loudly in surprise, but the other remained nonchalant, narrowing his eyes at the runner.

“What are you doing here?” Spy asks, eventually. 

“Er… taking a shower?” Scout answers, truthfully. Holding up the messy bundle of his travel clothes and towel as proof.

“Non, I mean… what are you doing out here, on zhis base… ma fille?” Spy asked again, tilting his head. 

Now, Scout wasn’t sure what the french meant, but he had a feeling it wasn’t good. “I’m here cause I’m the best, ya fruity bastard, what’re you good at, hide’n’seek?�� he mouths off in response.

Spy fixes the runner a look, dead in the eyes, as he says, “Zhis is no place for little girls, (dead name), you should know that by now.” 

And before Scout can even defend himself, the man has cloaked and gone.

Fear pools in the pit of his stomach, gnawing at him; it was all going so well, fuck, this wasn’t fair… his skin was crawling at hearing that fucking name again, especially laced with such-… such-… 

He wasn’t sure. Smug, condescending, cold… but all thrown together. That sense of wrongness, of displacement, which he thought had long since died since he’d had the chance to express himself properly… came flooding back. Fuck. If he could just… could just get to a phone and call Ma or one of his brothers… it’d be okay… he’d be okay…

“You okay, mate?” comes a voice by him, and nearly startles Scout out of his skin. Sniper’s by him, looking concerned. “Run in wiv the Spook, hey? Right bloody wanker he is, can’t wait to watch him die through me scopes.”

He’s hovering, not touching, because maybe he’s seen someone having a breakdown before, but the voice is a nice anchor. 

“B-be fine in a second, just gotta… phone home.” Scout says, simplifying his situation, and Sniper just nods. What had he heard? Fuck, did he know too?

Day one hadn’t been the time he wanted to disclose everything… 

“Sure, there’s one near the common room, but if you’re after privacy, I got one in me van, mate. C’mon… let’s set you right.” Sniper reassures, guiding the runner outside, and opening the van door. He points out the phone, offers a chair and asks if Scout was okay to be alone… the runner said yes, and dials the familiar number… relief flooding through him as his Ma picks up.

She’d sensed something was up with ‘her baby’ (he was going to be fifty with six kids of his own, and still be the family baby, Scout just fucking knew it)… and waited by the phone for his call.

“Jeremy, is everything okay?” she’d asked.Scout opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and told her everything. Afterwards, there was a moment of quiet before his Ma’s angry-calm tone came back on the line… “Oh, he did… did he?”There was three seconds when Scout assumed his mother was on her way here to flat out fucking murder the guy, before she sighed. “Scout, I didn’t wanna tell ya this LIKE this… but, I kinda knew about Spy before you left. He said he was working there too… was real pissed you were chosen’ n’everything. He knows, mostly ‘cause it’s his job to, and kinda cause he’s ya dad… I didn’t want you to find out like this, but it’s why he knew. No one told him or nothing. I’m so sorry honey.”

Spy was WHAT?

“Bombshell, huh? Well, least I got the best part of our union… you, baby. Wouldn’t trade ya for anything…” his Ma continued. She was always giving little peptalks like this to her boys… most of ‘em didn’t know their dads, but she was more than enough of a parent to them. Even when they surprised her on a daily basis (from pet snakes, to Johnny’s first boyfriend, to the time they put poprocks in a cake, and a thousand other ridiculous things). 

“Aw god, Ma…” he whines, flushing a little. “I’m good now… but thanks for picking up the phone so fast.”

“Anytime, my baby boy, anytime. And you let the bastard know I’m gonna kneecap ‘im when I see him next… love ya, bye!” 

He hears the phone clunk down, and chuckles. There’s a knock on the door, and Sniper peers in, “You good? Heard ya still on the phone when I got back… didn’t wanna interrupt, hate when people do that.”

“Yeah, fine… thanks.” Scout responds.

“Good, mate… time for tucker, anyway. C’mon, that Engineer bloke made something that smells amazing.” Sniper yawns, rubbing at his face. “Sorry, s’not you… timezones here are all warped around, still trying to get used to it. I mean, I did take international jobs before, but that was like, a week at most in another country, now I have to be on-board for battle in your morning… which is my night, y’see?”

The casual talk just seemed to set Scout at ease, as they moved towards the common room -it was the only room in the base with a dining table after all. He didn’t wanna go slinging the word ‘friendship’ around like some starry eyed primary schooler but… he’s pretty sure they’ve somehow formed one in the last hour. Not sure how, exactly, but it was pretty good.

-

Dinners were loud, chaotic and fun.

Spy slunk in at some point, but refused to talk. There was discolouration about his nose, and his mask seemed to bulge about the nose, like there was a dressing there. He glowered at Scout, then at Sniper; who grinned at the runner.

Turns out he’d decked the bastard one, when Scout was on the phone. Now, the runner wasn’t one for arbitrarily throwing marriage proposals around, but… He’d thanked him, and Sniper dismissed it with casual ease. 

Someone asked Spy about his face, and he made a scathing remark about feral bushmen and little girls that no one bothered to pry into. Otherwise, dinner was great, engie was a hell of a cook. 

-

Medic had to give them all their physicals, and insert the respawn chips… but apparently he also had something called an ‘uber implant’ that he was going to put in at the same time. Scout doesn’t remember much of it… just Medic doing a once over, tutting at the bandages (yeah yeah, not like ya can just order a freakin’ sports bra out of the Mann Co catalogue without someone asking questions), and using his bird as a distraction whilst he sneakily got the needle-fearing runner with the anaesthetic. 

Scout would never forgive archie, the fancy pigeon had fooled him with that fluffy please-pet-me wiggle… fully knowing his owner was waiting to pounce.

Still, when he woke up, his chest felt heavier than usual, not too bad just off. And the back of his neck was tingly. No scars though… which was fucking weird. That medigun thing was pretty amazing. 

For a second, Scout feels something wiggle around inside his ribcage… and then a coo. “Uh, Doc?”

He hears, “Oh schiesse, Archimedes you naughty bird!” before Medic’s at it with the anaesthetic again. 

-

When Scout finally wakes up birdfree, everything feels relatively normal. He gets up, slips on his clothes and thanks the Doc for everything, throwing a suspicious glance at Archimedes. 

“Uh, hey Doc… if ya got a fancy gun that can fix everything, how come Spy still looks like Snipes inverted his nose?” he suddenly asks, curious. 

Medic, looking slightly terrifying as he caresses his bonesaw, laughs. “Oho, vell… I vas informed by someone zhat his injury vas vell-deserved, und felt perhaps he vill learn his lesson better should he be left to suffer…”

…perhaps this was a man to be feared… even if he occasionally handed out lollipops after operations. Scout had a red one in his mouth right now. 

“Ya the best doc, I ever tell ya that before?” Scout grins. Another question was swirling around his mind, as he lingered in the doorway… and Medic seemed to sense it. “Uh, and also about ya medigun, can it… ya know how it don’t do scars and all, can ya maybe fix…” he points at his chest. 

“Vhen you are ready, a little later on, ve can discuss dealing vith other concerns such as zhat one. It is no big matter, surgically from my standpoint; but zhere are physiological implications to take into account. Und zhis is only day one… ve have time, I assure you; but for now you really must find something better zhan bandages. Zhe Medigun und respawn can heal some damage, but permanent use can deform your body…” Medic responds.

“I’ll try,” he says, “but ya mean it? ‘Cause we couldn’t find anyone at home who would…”

“Zhey are fools, zhen. Luckily, ve are on zhe same team…” winks Medic, “Now shoo, I have others to see today besides you, young man…” 

“Ya saying you don’t wanna appreciate all this gorgeous manly beauty for a little longer? I’m shocked! Here I was doing ya a solid by giving ya something nice to look at, when ya have to spend the rest of the day dealing with all the other old codgers…” Scout grins, cheekily, flexing… then ducking and laughing, as Medic tosses a handful of tongue depressors at him. 

“Get out of here, you cheeky junge…” the German manages, laughing heartily at the other’s antics. Scout pokes his tongue out as he disappears around the door.

-

His first death was a shock. Both to him, and the bloke who shot him.

The BLU!Scout’s eyes went wide as the scattergun exploded, and blood welled through the shirt; Scout felt fiery pain for a moment, then cold… then finally, nothing. His body hit the ground, before he could even process it… and then, he was kinda, here but nowhere.

Just for a few seconds though. It was like the teleporters, really, you just stayed in place, a continuous stream of consciousness… but you moved places. Some light, a weird whirring noise… and suddenly, he was back where he started the match. It was 2Fort, so the room was small, stark, and sparsely furnished. 

It felt real fuckin’ bizarre. 

He was immediately flattened by the Medic popping out of nowhere in a haze of light, landing on him. Scout made a strained wheeze, while the other scrambled up and off. 

“Scout? Oh, sorry… vell, zhat vas a unique experience, I must say. We had better move before Herr Heavy comes through…” Medic mutters. “Zhat BLU Spy is quite zhe pest, especially vith those disguises and all…”

“Sixty seconds remaining of Testing Phase Match.” warned the Administrator. 

This match was a formality, neither side was to win, just… die, and learn to cope with it. They’d only been in it for five minutes or so, so far, but it wasn’t supposed to last long… 

Scout’d made a  mental map of the sewers by now (that was a surprise), and even made it to the other intel room (though it was empty), before he’d been chased down by the BLU Scout. It was bizarre to think they could just… resurrect, no matter what… but everyone was getting used to it.

“See ya out there, Doc!” Scout winks, and leaves as Heavy reappears in the spawn sector.

-

Battle had been going great. Hell, he’d died hundreds of times that week alone, and killed almost as many; captured intel, lost it, taunted, attacked, defended, caught out the BLU Spy a few times…

Saved lives, had his life saved.

God, the Doc had even ubered him a few times and that was… wow, it was like being a god in a finite form, even for just a few seconds. He fuckin’ loved it!

Spy was still being a dick, but like, in French. Heavy and Medic seemed to understand him, because they tended to glare the man down… but Scout didn’t give a shit. Let the guy be bitter and weird about it, anyone who legs it on their family wasn’t worth anyone’s time anyway…

The others were pretty great to know, actually. Kind of like his own family, a bit weird, chaotic and sometimes the kitchen caught fire… but safe, fun, protected. Being here was turning out pretty great. 

He could almost forget who he was outside the base, ‘cause no one ever used names, only Classes here. And sure, that seemed real weird to begin with, but it made sense and all. Though he still called home once a week to touch bse with Ma and all… that was a given.

Apparently Snipes did too, so Scout didn’t feel so awkward about admitting to the others he needed to call his Ma… it was hard enough being the youngest without saying that sort of thing. Still, he can always use the one in the van if he needed, Sniper had offered. 

Engie kept calling him ‘son’, and teaching him things. Did something similar with Pyro, except he used ‘Py’, ‘cause no one was sure what the firebug identified as… never saw them outta the suit, either, to take a guess. 

Scout could now make… exactly one tiny model of a sentry that shot nails. He was also banned from pranking people with it…

Demo always had an amazing story to captivate the room with. Though Scout didn’t quite trust the magical talking sword the guy had… it gave the runner an eerie feeling just looking at it. He did like to drink, and who wouldn’t given some of the stuff the guy had seen? But he was pretty good at keeping the rest of the base from any drunken shenanigans. He’d even talked a very inebriated Soldier-Medic duo out of taking a nude dip in the water beneath the 2Fort bridge… despite how adamant the pair were at the time.

Heavy, as it turns out, was a ridiculously smart man. Just his English ain’t great, yet so Scout had to stop slinging slang at the poor guy, because it was too hard to keep up. Heavy sometimes read books aloud, for Scout… and sometimes Medic who was usually nearby pretending the two weren’t together, but Scout wasn’t an idiot. ‘Cause the runner had issues with words, they sometimes slid off the page when he was reading and it was a pain… made school harder than it had to be, really.

Medic & Sniper were consistently on his side.

Soldier was a very loud man, who firmly believed in certain ideals (e.g. all of RED were Americans) and acted like a commander most of the time. But he was a nice guy, if chaotic… he’d adopted a whole host of raccoons recently… that was a unique experience. Still, he never failed to let the team know his thoughts, nor failed to praise, bolster, encourage when necessary

Scout would just like it if the guy could stop with the “What are you, a girl?”/ “C’mon ladies, time to take your tampons out and man up!”/etc. thing. He knew it was just something the super macho army guys’d yell at each other but it was a little grating… but he wasn’t sure how to bring it up.

…until his tolerance level took a rather strong hit, as it usually did, once a month. He was a very fit young man, so generally it wasn’t a problem, you learned to live with it after a bit; even in guy clothes. His Ma worked out a solution with her sewing kit and twenty minutes of staring at a pair of new briefs. 

But even the most athletic people still have a bad period now and then. It wasn’t… like, traumatic or anything, for Scout; it was just part of his life, and he was a guy who sometimes felt like death was coming once a month. If he was lucky, a few cramps and that could be easily dealt with through painkillers and stretching… but there were times, when they were pretty damn bad. Like, on the verge of puking, bad. 

And of course, it had to happen eventually on base… but he’d been hoping, maybe, not the first month here. Of all fucking times!His performance took a bit of a dive, because of this, and maybe that’s why he didn’t censor himself when Soldier yelled at him. 

“C’mon maggot, stop being a damn sissy and get out there!” 

“How ‘bout you go fuck yourself?” he snaps back, breathing through the odd twinges emanating from his abdomen. God damn it, why now? They were 2-2 on intel capture, and his freaking uterus was trying to escape…

“How dare you backtalk a superior officer! Where’s all this sass coming from, you PMS-ing like a girl, soldier?” the other shouts, and Scout is thankful they’re alone, because he’s in too much discomfort to give a shit as he answers.

“YES, you flag-fucking son of a bitch!” he snaps back, and immediately panics. His eyes go wide, and they both stare at one another for a long minute.

Soldier looks him up and down, frowning. Or at least, Scout thinks that’s frowning, based on the fact the helmet obscures most of his face.

“…Private, I’m sorry.” Soldier breaks the tension with, surprising the runner. “Had I been informed of your tactical situation, son, I would have used different motivational techniques…”

Scout feels the anger, the fear, dissipate somewhat. Soldier seems genuinely distressed that he’s upset the runner…

“…I didn’t tell anyone ‘cept Doc and I think maybe Snipes worked it out. Didn’t wantcha to think like Spy, that I don’t belong on RED ‘cause they got my birth certificate wrong…” Scout says, clenching his fist as another twinge ruins the moment.

Soldier puts his hand on the runner’s shoulder in a companionable display of affection. “Son, I-… RED are the best at what they do, men, women, Pyro… it doesn’t matter. I’m not afraid to admit I was wrong, or that I’m sorry, and I’ll try not to say anything stupid like that again…”

“Nah I’m just a bit sensitive because-…” Scout tries, but Soldier interrupts.

“Son, if I have learned anything about people, and especially people with your monthly concern, it’s that they’re never oversensitive about things. They just put up with a tonne of shit until they’re too stressed out, too upset or in just far too much discomfort to play polite… never apologise for being real.” Soldier said, as if it was a throwaway statement and not the most epiphany-like moment Scout had ever experienced up until then. 

“Heh, thanks man.” Scout responds. Then lets out a shout of surprise as Soldier tosses him over his shoulder, “What the hell?”

“Doc was back by Engie, last I saw… one of them should have something to take the edge off… get you back in fighting form and all.” Soldier responds, oddly considerate. 

Scout lets out a startled yelp as they rocket jump off the platform, he’d always wanted to try it but not from this angle!

They do find Engie, and his dispenser provides some relief until the man can fish a small packet of panadol out of his toolkit. He doesn’t ask why, he’s laid back like that. 

Scout is honestly relieved at how this ended up such a non-event.

-

Some of the others have noticed Scout doesn’t shower with them, but have made their own assumptions (he’s young, it might be weird to shower with all these big, muscly older dudes). Scout’s honestly surprised Spy hasn’t used that in a big reveal, yet… but he senses the other is waiting for something. 

Scout still flirts with Miss P when she comes on base, because she’s beautiful and he does still kinda love her, but there’s also a degree of thrill to having her turn him down because ‘she’s not into boys’. She’s known from the start, and never once misgendered him… never leaves him without anything he needs, either. Last time, he even found a large box of his favourite chocolate in there amongst the items, and he had a feeling that was her doing too…

God she needed more than one day off a year, even if Scout only took her out as a friend… she was too damn good to them all. 

Demo did mention in passing that Scout had a nice body and if he was concerned about not measuring up to the others in the shower, then he didn’t need to worry, this wasn’t high school. No one pulled ye olde point and laugh here. Soldier had jumped in and gone off on a tangent about cleanliness in the ranks, and how privates should wash theirs whenever, and wherever possible. Which derailed the conversation a bit, though Scout could see the cogs whirring in Demo’s mind. Afterwards, when they had a quiet moment, Demo approached in a casual way; out of earshot of the others, to speak with him.“Lad... like I said before, it disnae matter what ye do or don’t have... you can always shower with the rest of the team, and no one’ll gawk. Pyro showers in their suit and it was only a bit odd the first time. But I’m sensing that the reason has to do with someone on the team, and ye should know I’m always ready to throw a punch for ye, lad, never forget it. Just say the word.” He winks. Or, Scout assumes it was, considering...“Thanks, man. Maybe... soon. I just-... I mean, I trust like, alla ya except Spy but only a few people either know or have worked it out. Not that I think Pyro’d care, or Engie... pretty sure Snipes knows, Medic, Soldier, Heavy probably worked it out, and now you seem to...” Scout trails off.

“...so Spy’s the blaggard, is he?” Demo’s voice was a little colder.

“Well yeah, but it’s... more than that.” Scout adds, shoulders slumping, “First thing he said was... well he kinda called me his daughter and used the wrong name’n’all. When I called Ma about it, ‘cause it freaked me out, she kinda mentioned he’s my dad...”

“Well, fuck, laddie. I’m going to get some of the hard stuff, and we can bag him out until we pass out, aye?” Demo offers, beaming.

“Sounds like a plan to me...” Scout answers, following as the Scot led the way.

Medic was too busy laughing at the hungover pair to do anything useful, for at least half an hour; because apparently they serenaded the Doc, whilst inebriated, in violently clashing accents and utterly out of tune. Heavy had had to carry them to bed.

Neither merc would let them forget it for years to come.

-

Everything just sort of clicked into place, really.

It was like home, with his Ma and brothers... except with more murder and death on a daily basis. Also, better cooking. Scout cannot emphasise that enough. Engie’d even managed to get Scout cooking basic dishes properly... and only the toaster had caught fire that one time. 

Actually, the more Scout interacted with the guy, the more he seemed to realise that Engie had known all along. Especially since the man went out of his way to call him ‘son’, ‘lad’, ‘boy’, and ‘young man’ in every sentence... it was nice. Scout should have twigged earlier, really.

So he stopped taking Spy’s shit, and decided to just confront the guy publicly. Spies didn’t like exposure, but Scouts revelled in it.

“....so emotional, don’t you think that’s a handicap for this line of work?” purrs the Spy, appearing behind Scout at the table. He’s eating cereal and reading a new Flash comic, but he’s not alone; most of the others are lounging across the room by the tv, but all attention is immediately, subtly turned on Spy and Scout. God help the man.

“Funny you should say that, I saw you losin’ ya shit after that Blu poured piss on ya, earlier...” Scout backhands, blandly. Not rising to the bait.

He can sense the man’s lips curling into a scowl of disgust. “Zhat is another matter entirely... I am talking about-...” Spy responds, but Scout interjects.

“Oh I know whatcha talking about, there pal, and if ya don’t fuck off I’ll slap ya silly with a used tampon... see how ya cope emotionally after that, huh?” Scout grins at the revulsion on Spy’s face.

“So vulgar, of course you get zhat from your mother... as daughters often do.” 

Well fuck. Scout slams the spoon down and stands up, getting right up into Spy’s face. 

“Now look, you creepy bastard, the reality of this is ya thought ya had a daughter... but surprise, it’s a fucking boy! Now accept ya have a son, that ya abandoned by the way, or go one annoying the shit outta him about the fact that ya wanted a girl to abandon instead. Either way, he doesn’t fucking care.” 

Spy looked taken aback. 

“Yeah, I said it out loud, surprised? The rest of the team knows, they don’t give a shit as far as I know... you’re the one with the hangup. So maybe just come to terms with your own crap, and when you think you’re human enough, we can try to do the whole dad-son thing, okay?” Scout finishes. He’s tired, of this fight, of this conversation. It had been building for months. 

Spy just stares at him for a long moment, as if he had never seen Scout before this very second... and finally composes himself. “Very well... mon fils.” He has cloaked and left, before Scout can fully register what has happened. 

“Good job laddie!” Demo cries, coming over to clap him on the shoulder. 

Sniper puts his Huntsman down, nodding to the runner as if it was nothing. Pyro hugged Scout, but that may have been unrelated to the whole situation... Pyro just liked to hug. Engie said, “Proud of ya, son.” and left it at that.

The others acknowledged the moment, but didn’t make a fuss.

All in all, it was pretty good.

-

Maybe in time Spy can reconcile.

Maybe not.

But it doesn’t matter as long as the team is on Scout’s side, no matter what. 

Scout... Jeremy... loves being a RED, for precisely that reason.

- - - - - - - - - -

The End.

Headcanons like that?

[whyareyouyellingatme]

A post I deleted in the end

Here's one of the most personal/long things I've ever posted, and if you hate me you'll probably have a field day laughing at this one. I don't know how long it'll take before I maybe...delete it. I don't want anyone to respond with likes or comments. If you have something to say you can pm me, but I don't enjoy talking about it outside of one ong rant. I rant like this so I can jot it all down for records / evidence I'm not irrational, and then move on.

Here's the TL;DR: Rick Ranquist - 40+ years old, lives in Utah possibly Michael Aigner - mid 20's, probably lives in Bellingham by the pool Cooper Texeira - My age, lives in Seattle and goes to my school

All these men are white sexual offenders that did not get a punishment for their crimes.

When I was seven my 20+ year old babysitter did stuff with me that I did not understand, and I don't properly remember a lot of it. I thought it was a game, but it was actually doing sexual favors for a pedophile. I read a line in "The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe" about a man trying so hard to forget something unpleasant that he eventually succeeds in forgetting it. I tried to do that with the memory, and it sort of worked until I heard his name, Ricky. My brother said, "Remember when Ricky----" and that's all I heard before I started dissociating and everything was like someone was smothering me with a pillow.

His sister called me a liar when I said "your brother does weird stuff with me and plays games I don't understand". I decided if she didn't believe me, nobody would, because she was my neighbor and my friend. She still doesn't know today I was telling the truth.

I got raped when I was 19 by a 23 year old that had been grooming me since I was 16. I tried reporting it to the police and they laughed at me, nearly hanging up on me. I went to the ER, got a cervical exam while a doctor ogled my vagina with awe (because my relatively young genitals excited him, how professional). The taxi driver saw me crying and said "you put him on a list! Get him on a list!" and nope, he didn't get put on any kind of list. That fucked me up for a long time. I was numb for a long time. I just watched non stop television and didn't think. I can remember the exact outfit I put in a brown paper evidence bag, and I can remember the exact outfit I wore for days afterwards. I really changed as a person after that. Being isolated from all your friends and spending 3 years dedicating all your time to a shitty abusive man that made you think everything was your fault. Not fun.

Weirdly enough, a man who's in my family pushed me not to report the rape or try pushing for anything else from the police, because he thought it would traumatize me further. I gave up. I didn't want to see Michael, he made me sick. I was partially relieved I got out of the cycle of abuse, but I held on to a rage for a while . I still feel it if I think too much about it. I get really angry but it helps nothing because what can I do ? I'd imagine scenarios where I got to kill him as revenge.

It looked really cute on the surface! It looked like I was having a good time. But I was having panic attacks every week trying to make him happy, despite the beatings, despite the yelling (bc that's normal in my household so I thought it was normal in relationships) until the day that he went way too far.

I really thought it was my fault and that I deserved it for being stupid or not good enough. I was too focused on a very heavy school schedule and an eating disorder/self harm problem to realize I could do better for myself. Of course all of his friends saw me as a "crazy bitch" as he was beating me, real nice. His family was really racist and he broadcasted all of our arguments to them. His sister threatened to hit me with a wrench, not knowing/caring that her brother was already beating me. All of them just kind of watched whenever I broke down crying in front of them. His dad said "women get like this", I'm not...a woman. Not for someone like you dude.

Michael showed up at my house a couple days after it happened too. He stalked me for a while. I still get freaked out being alone sometimes. I have a knife collection and pepper spray, and even guns, but none of them make me feel as safe as a genuine friend does. I'm easily startled and for a while I had really horrible nightmares and panic attacks in public. It got a little better with time, but I still have really bad days. It's still difficult going anywhere near medical centers or dealing with cervical exams.

(I tried speaking with a nurse about the possibility that I have PTSD from that event, and she brushed me off with a "Women used to get raped all the time and they would have to just deal with it. You should lose some weight." Which started up my eating disorder again...horribly enough, people have been so cruel to me but I still care so much what they think.)

I tried faking confidence and happiness in college. I don't have a supportive healthy family, I just have me and whoever decides to be my friend. I made a friend group and went to parties with them. That was fun until a person I trusted grabbed at me when I was incredibly drunk. He led me to his room where I passed out. I wasn't sober enough to understand what was going on or even walk properly, and he texted people things from my phone saying that I was okay. It was all just kind of stupid honestly.

I woke up the next day in my room, on the floor, feeling kind of gross and even more gross as I try to figure out what happened the night before. He shows up at my work wanting me to serve him ice cream. I go in to report him because he did end up grabbing me without consent.

I lost my friend group. And after describing him grabbing my chest and ass in a disgusting amount of detail to a man that said "I remember being a young man and partying in college" with a cheerful nostalgia, I lost the case too. He didn't get anything. At this point I was kind of used to being treated like a piece of meat, so I was just mad he didn't learn anything. In fact, he has been checking up on me online to find dirt on me and report ME to the school for talking shit. His girlfriend has been doing the same, angry because she thinks he was trying to cheat with me. Cheating is consensual.

People just don't learn sometimes. I'm not a thing. I'm an nb lesbian though, and the guy that tried stuff with me when I was drunk knew that. He thought he could convert me.

I've been going through all of this without therapy, trying to just go to school. I tried telling a counselor about my situation and he said "those are long term problems that the university cannot handle".

Maybe I seem quiet and aloof, maybe I'm annoying to you, maybe you think I'm a liar or something stupid like that. But god damn it, I am a human being. I've been through some gross shit. I'm tired of people touching me and trying to invade my space. I'm tired of creepy ass college professors comparing me to their girlfriends and saying shit like "things aren't going so well with her". It's never a compliment you're just fuckin weird dude.

I'm super disconnected from reality even now (sometimes) because I don't like thinking about any of this. I stayed silent about it for quite a while because of all the people who probably wouldn't believe me. But uhhhh fuck you guys I know who I am.

This is a really personal story, especially very personal to be posting on facebook. It makes me feel super vulnerable, but not as much as having the memories bouncing around in my head nonstop makes me feel. I have a girlfriend now and I'm living in a pretty safe place at the moment. There's a lot of other shit happening in my life, my PTSD dog (one of my only sources of comfort in a bad time) got hit by a car and died. :( You all probs know about that, I just miss her when I think about the past. So I've just been trying to figure out how to help myself, you know?

This post got really fucking long and I don't feel like editing it. If you ever think I'm quiet, it's because I'm tired of explaining myself. I want to be my usual joke-y self but sometimes that feel really fake. I don't like thinking about all of this, but I think someone should know.

I wanted to write this post when I was sure I could finish it without crying. It has been a while since something super bad has happened to me, and that distance between the event and reality really helps muffle the emotional response.

Cheers to the survivors that aren't "good" survivors that react a specific way. Cheers to those of you that aren't comfortable sharing your story because it's really not anybody's business unless you want to say something.

I don't know, I still try and have fun, pretending nothing happened. I hate this crap. I hate the emotional baggage. Wish I could chuck it, but my brain has a different plan.

Like, all of this shit happened on TOP of me living in an extremely abusive home so you can imagine I tried to kill myself.

I'm a human being. Stop treating me like shit. I'm tired of it. I'm also not as mean as I look, I don't bite. I'm here for you as a friend if you need it. I just couldn't sleep tonight because of all this crap.

Please don't react to this I'm just babbling. I don't want to deal with people that have no empathy for my long ass story just because it's long / badly written. I'm just tired. I'm soooooo fucking tired.

Edit: I'm trying to reread this just once, but I can't even do it. Like not because it's hard, I literally just look at the words and they mean nothing. My brain basically put up a firewall against upsetting shit so I lose touch with reality whenever I get near it for too long. It's hard describing dissociation but if you would like to know more u should google it. A weird time. Anyway gn I'm alright I just needed to fucking let it out.

[seethatgirl3]

I’m Working On It //Bellamy Blake Imagine//

Requested: @fluffy-unicorn26

Request: Hey! I’m so excited about you writing The 100 imagines, so can you do one where the reader is really sassy and badass so bc of that Bellamy becomes really interested in her and when he tries to flirt with her or something she ignores him or says sassy things so that makes him even more interested and there is a point where the reader and Bellamy won’t stop flirting so everyone is like “ugh, just stop and kiss already” and you can decide the end 😂 I’m sorry if this is too long. Thanks! Ily 💕

Warnings: some swears (only ones they use in the show)

A/n: JUST UNDER A WEEK UNTIL EP.6 GUYS OMG I’M SO EXCITED!

Italics are flashbacks/memories

Sorry the intro is like super long! Hope you guys don’t mind! Also the __ lines are kinda like time skips, so not all of the events are happening at one time.

——-

You sat in your small room by yourself, tears littering your pale cheeks and a painful aching in your chest. You fiddled with your fingers in hopes it would distract you from the sadness in your heart, but it’s hard to ignore a heavy heart. You jumped slightly when you heard a knock on the door and you quickly brushed away your tears with you fingers and sniffled. The door opened and your mother walked into the room. She had bags under her eyes and her hair looked greyer than it ever had before.

“Hey sweetheart,” she greeted as she ran a veiny hand through her hair and sighed. “How was your day?”

“It was fine.” You replied but your voice cracked, giving you away almost immediately.

Your mother turned towards you and just the sight of your watery eyes had her seated beside you with her arm wrapped around your shoulder in seconds. “What is it?”

“Why was dad floated?” You sniffled as you looked at your mother. You swore you saw something break behind her tired eyes.

“You deserve to know…”  she sighed. She took a deep breath and looked at the floor. “When you were five years old, I became very very sick. So sick that they thought I wouldn’t live. I eventually got better enough to come back home but I was still very sick. Your father knew that, so everyday on his way home from work, he would take medicine to help me. If it wasn’t for him, I would probably be dead..”

“Then they caught him…and floated him..” you whispered.

Your mother nodded. “Why are you bringing this up?”

“Some kid called dad a thief and said that he had deserved to die. He said if it wasn’t for you then he might still be alive.” You sniffled. You wiped your cheeks with your fingers again and your mother placed a hand on your cheek.

“Listen to me,” she said softly. “I know that that probably hurt you a lot, and I know that it’s a hard thing to live with, but baby, you can’t let them know that they get to you. Once they know they do, it’s all over. Never let them control you. Please.”

______

Time went by quickly and before you knew it, there were only four days until your eighteenth birthday. You walked down one of the long corridors towards the medical station where your mother was. Her sickness had taken a turn for the worst a couple weeks ago and since then, she’s been living in a hospital bed.

“Oh thank goodness!” You heard someone say from behind you. You whirled around quickly to see none other than Abby Griffin, panting slightly from running. “I”ve been looking everywhere for you.” “Why?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

“Your mother..” Abby breathed. Your eyes went wide and before Abby could say anything more, you were sprinting down the hallway towards the medical room. You threw the door open and ran straight towards your mother’s bed.

“Mom.” You croaked as you stepped next to her, taking her hand in yours and holding it tightly. Her eyes were hooded and her mouth was slightly parted. She turned her head to look at you, her eyes just barely opening again when she blinked.

“Y/n.” She said softly, your name just barely slipping past her lips. “My sweet Y/n.”

“You’re going to be alright mom. I promise you will be alright!” You looked towards Abby who slowly shook her head. She looked just as sad as you did.

“Y/n,” Your mother whispered as she placed a hand on your cheek. “You’re so strong Y/n. So wonderful and strong. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. I know your emotions are strong, but you are stronger. Never let anyone get to you. Please Y/n.”

“I won’t mom. I promise.” You sniffled as you held her hand tightly. “Please don’t leave me.”

“I’m so sorry.” She breathed. Her eyes slowly drifted shut and her head rolled to the side.

“No..” You said softly. “Mom?” You looked towards Abby who was looking sadly at the ground, a tear slowly rolling down her cheek. “How could you let this happen!” You said suddenly as you stood up and looked at Abby.

“Y/n, you have to believe that we did everything we could. I never want to see any of my patients die.” Abby replied as she took a step closer.

“She wasn’t just a patient! She was my mother!” You sobbed. You ran towards Abby but two guards who had been patrolling the room quickly snatched your arms and dragged you towards the door. “Let go of me!” You shouted but they wouldn’t. They finally let go of you in the hallway and without thinking, you swung your fist and hit one of the guards in the face.

And that’s how you ended up getting sent to the ground two days later.

+++

“Chop Chop!” Murphy shouted from his spot under a large oak tree. “This wall isn’t going to build itself!”

“Maybe if you helped it would go faster.” You nearly spat as you dragged a decently sized log past him towards an unfinished part of the wall. “What was that princess?” He asked as he stepped away from Bellamy’s side and into the sunlight.

“You heard me.” You replied as you set the log down and dusted your hands off before folding them across your chest. “This could go a lot faster if you just shut your mouth for once and actually helped out a little.”

“I don’t think you know what you’re saying kid-” “Murphy,” Bellamy said as he stepped up next to Murphy. “Help Y/n bring this log to the wall.” A small smirk played at his lips but you weren’t amused.

“And what about you?” You asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“Me?” He asked, somewhat shocked.

“Yeah you. You may be the leader but that doesn’t do any good when it comes to finishing the wall, now does it?” You smirked when he opened his mouth to speak but ended up closing it quickly. “Good. Now put those muscles to a good use for once and help Murphy carry that log to that empty spot over there.”

Bellamy stared at you for a minute before a small smile spread across his lips and he moved past you and picked up on end of the log. “I can’t believe this.” Murphy scoffed as he picked up the other end and the two of them carried it to the other side of the camp. “Hope you’re happy princess!”

“For now I am.” You smiled to yourself.

____

“You know,” a voice said from behind you as you sharpened your knife using a large stone. You recognized the voice as Bellamy’s right away and you rolled your eyes slightly. But anyone could have noticed the small smile you were trying so hard to hide. “You’d make a pretty decent leader.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” You asked.

Bellamy sat down beside you and took a deep breath. “Well you just have what it takes. You don’t like to be bossed around but you’re very good at doing it. You got Murphy to move a log the other day. Murphy doesn’t do anything for anyone but me. But he listened to you. I think you just have it in you.”

“Murphy is just scared of me. He knows I can kick his ass all the way back to the Ark. Plus, you don’t know anything about me. For all you know, I could just be a bitch.” You replied, your eyes not leaving the blade of your knife.

“Well, in our case, I think being a bitch is all it takes.” Bellamy smiled at you.

“Guess that’s why you’re our leader then.” You smiled back at him before standing up and walking off towards your tent.

_____

You stood in the drop ship with Clarke and Raven as they examined the bullets Raven had just made.

“Have you considered Bellamy’s offer to join him as a leader?” Clarke asked as she looked over her shoulder at you.

“I didn’t think he was being serious…well we have enough leaders here anyway. You and him are enough to keep us in shape.” You shrugged as you picked up one of the bullets and began examining it. “Plus, I would have to work with Bellamy and I don’t think I could do that.” “I heard that, Princess.” Bellamy’s low voice echoed through the room and you rolled your eyes slightly.

“Good. Now I don’t have to directly tell you why I don’t want to be a leader.” You smiled to yourself as you heard him chuckle. It wasn’t often that Bellamy even smiled, so hearing him laugh was a nice break.

“Well the spot is still open if you just so happen to change your mind.” Bellamy shrugged. He picked up a bullet as well and examined it. “Have any of you seen Octavia by any chance?”

“Not recently.” Raven muttered as she carefully inspected one of the bullets. “This one’s a dud.” She placed it in a separate pile before picking up another one. “I’ll help you look for her. I’m doing the least amount of work here.” You shrugged as you headed for the door. “She’s probably just outside the gate. She likes to wander.”

Bellamy nodded and followed you into the camp. “She better not have wandered far….It’s not safe with us on the brink of war..”

“Relax, Octavia can take care of herself.” You said as you pushed the big door open and stepped into the forest.

“That’s what she wants everyone to think. She acts all tough and like nothing can get to her, but she’s just…I don’t know…human.” Bellamy’s voice got quiet as he scanned the area for his sister. “What’s so bad about acting a little tough?” You asked. You followed close to Bellamy just in case something bad were to happen. Unexpected things have happened in these woods but you knew with Bellamy, at least you had a chance to survive an unexpected attack. “I don’t know… she just gets herself into trouble because she thinks she’s tough and then she ends up getting hurt because she isn’t. She’s strong, but not as strong as she wishes she was.” Bellamy stepped over a log and glanced around again. “I have to say I’m more on Octavia’s side with this one.” You responded as you hopped over the same log. “I too play the tough card a little more than I should.”

“Wait…did you just confirm that you agree with me sometimes?” Bellamy asked, looking at you with a shocked expression.

You scoffed slightly but you couldn’t help but smile. “Only when you’re right….which isn’t often.” You replied. “But you still do agree with me sometimes.”

“Yes Bellamy. You’re our leader. I have to agree with you sometimes.” You rolled your eyes slightly but kept on walking.

“So why do you always act so sassy. Not that it’s necessarily a bad thing, I’m just curious as to how that started.” Bellamy asked and you suddenly stopped walking. “What? What is it?” He asked as he came back over to you.

“It’s kinda a long story…” You looked at him, your eyes sad now. He looked at you with a worried expression that you almost ignored. “Well we got nothing else to talk about..Of course I won’t pressure you to talk about it though if you don’t want to.”

“It’s okay…” You took a deep breath. “When I was five, my mother became very very sick. So sick they thought she was going to die. She stayed in the hospital for a long time before finally being let out. She was still sick at home though and we didn’t have medicine. So everyday, on his way home from work, he would steal medicine for my mother. She would have died without him doing this. He got away with it for about a year. She finally started to get better, but then they caught my dad. He was floated when I was six.” You looked down at the ground.

“When I was eight, some kid made fun of me for not having a dad. He said that he had deserved to die and that it was my mother’s fault he was dead. I cried a lot that night and I can clearly remember my mother saying ‘You can’t let them know that they get to you’. A couple weeks before my eighteenth birthday, my mom got extremely sick. She was in the hospital all the time. Four days before my eighteenth birthday, she died. Right before she did, she told me ‘never let anyone get to you’.”

“So you use sass and sarcasm to hide the fact that you really do have emotions and that you really are human.” Bellamy raised an eyebrow at you and you rolled your eyes. “That was so deep and then you said that and ruined it. If you let people know they get to you, then it’s easier for them to control you. They have more power over you. The moment my mother died I told myself that I wouldn’t let anyone get into my head other than myself. That’s why Murphy could insult me for days but not get a reaction.”

“I like it. Emotions are a sign of weakness…but they also make us human. You can’t hide your emotions from everyone.” Bellamy looked at you with an I’m-right-you’re-wrong expression and you rolled your eyes.

“Do you think I would have just told you my tragic and depressing life story if I was trying to hide my emotions?”

Bellamy shrugged. “You got a point. Look, there’s Octavia.” He pointed towards a clearing in the woods where Octavia stood in a field, looking over the side of a rather steep hill.

“You should be thankful that I even told you that I have emotions.” You scoffed slightly. “Oh trust me princess, I’m more than thankful.” He smiled at you and you couldn’t help but laugh slightly.

____

“Guess who has decided to join our clan of leaders.” Bellamy announced as he walked back into the drop ship with you at his side.

“Nice Y/n! Maybe now we have a chance against the Grounders!” Raven said as she turned around in her seat and smirked at Bellamy.

“Welcome aboard Y/n. Once a captain, always a captain.” Clarke smiled at you and you smiled back.

“What do you say Princess, ready to lead a group of unstable teenage delinquents?” Bellamy asked with a small smile as he looked at you.

“Ah I’ve always dreamed of the day I could lead a group of ‘unstable teenage delinquents’ with an unstable not-as-much-of-a-teenage delinquent.” You smiled at Bellamy before leaving the drop ship.

“So you still haven’t kissed her yet I see.” Clarke chuckled.

“I’m working on it.” Bellamy replied before following you out of the dropship and into the camp.

[nicistrying]

I'm feeling really good mentally lately and i just wanted to make a little post of encouragement hoping it might let some of my followers know you're not alone if you're going through similar things ☺ So 2 years ago in August of 2015, just a week before going back to sixth form to complete my A-levels and only a few weeks after spending a month in Costa Rica with a group from sixth form, trekking and doing charity work and feeling my confidence soar, I woke up in the middle of the night and had a really severe panic attack. I had no idea what was going on, I just felt completely out of control of my body and I was hot and cold at the same time, I tried to get up to go to my nanna's room but I was blacking out so I just ran round the house aimlessly shouting that I was having a heart attack until I ran into a door and knocked myself out. I came round with no idea where I was and we called an ambulance and I waited 4 hours for them to come. It felt like a lifetime and when they did arrive, the paramedics concluded I'd had a panic attack and told me to get some rest and learn to deal with stress better to avoid another one. I spent that day trying to sleep but if I was ever alone in a room I felt like there were heavy chains round my ankles and wrists, my chest tightened and the room spun. That went on for a week or so, I just couldn't bear to be left alone and there was another night we had to call an ambulance. Then I started to get a bit better, I went to sixth form and tried to focus on studying but would have to run to the first aid room a few times a day to be reassured I wasn't dying (luckily the nurse was my friend's mam so she was lovely to me), but I was still terrified to sleep and every night without fail I would wake up at some point thinking I was dying, I'd go to my parents' room so I wasn't alone and sit on the floor shaking until it went away. Then one night I went in and my stepmam just said 'No. Go back to bed, we haven't had any sleep for weeks, go to bed and don't come back I'm sick of this, me and your dad are exhausted.' So I went back to my room feeling horrified that she was going to leave me to lie in bed thinking I was dying alone and called a friend instead. Matthew became my go-to when I woke up in the night dizzy and unable to walk, I was terrified to try to go to the toilet in case my legs gave way, they felt so weak. So that went on for months and I never told my parents anything about my panic attacks or the constant anxiety I felt, the constant fear that I was about to have a heart attack. I wouldn't eat anything fatty, I was terrified of red meat and especially mince because I could see all the fat. I thought the fat would clog my arteries and I'd have a heart attack. So I lost a hell of a lot of weight because of my loss of appetite (I was also supposed to take beta-blockers before my food but they triggered an attack when I took them because I knew they slowed my heart - I was terrified my heart would suddenly just stop). One particularly bad night (the anxiety would start building about 7pm as bedtime got closer and it would get worse and worse as the night went on), I went back downstairs after going to bed bc I was scared. Again my stepmam told me I wasn't trying hard enough and that if I didn't get help I'd turn out like my crazy cousin and they'd send me away to a psychiatric hospital. She and my dad were disgusting in the way they tried to deal with it. I called a therapy service but the waiting list was 10 months. During those months, I forced myself out to house parties every weekend to avoid being in the house alone, but one weekend there wasn't a party anywhere and I thought I'd at least try being home while my parents were out. I got a bit anxious and called my nanna and was on the phone to her when my parents got back, drunk. My dad took the phone and hung up and started screaming at me that I had to stop this, it was pathetic and he wouldn't put up with it any longer. He grabbed my leg and wouldn't let go until he was done shouting, despite the fact I was almost passing out from fear. I was terrified and from then I had the added fear that he'd either kill me or rape me. I know it's awful to think that about your own dad but I was clearly not thinking straight and that one night scared the hell out of me. So he started taking me and my sister out in his van after tea every night to walk the dog and I was terrified the whole time that he might just break my legs and leave me on the moors in the cold. Of course he never did, his heart was in the right place. He was just trying to get me out of the house and show me the world wasn't as scary as I thought. And now I seriously appreciate that effort but he went about it in the most awful way. Fast forward a year or so, I finally got to see a couple of therapists and they helped me to set goals and start challenging my anxiety and the panic attacks weren't happening quite so often. I'd started walking my dog on my own and eventually got back into running to learn I wouldn't die if I exerted myself but there were still times when they'd creep up on me out of nowhere when I was stressed. One day I couldn't start my shift at work because of an attack and Matthew from earlier who I'd been calling in the night, now my boyfriend, took me to his house where his parents let me eat with them and his dad cuddled me on the couch with a stupid cartoon while Matthew worked my shift. During exam season when I was able to revise but not effectively because I got so uncomfortable being home alone, Matthew would let me stay at his house for a few days at a time to get some revision done and I stayed there the night before A level results came out and we opened our university acceptance letters together. And I got all As. I was so proud of myself for surviving sixth form that year when I'd had to leave class due to panic attacks so often, all the teachers were aware of my awful anxiety which was extremely embarrassing and the school even called my dad telling him to get me put on medication or I'd fail my exams (I stopped taking my beta blockers after a few months because they made me ill; I was now eating almost normally and refused to take any medication and got straight As and was accepted into my first choice university so FUCK THOSE TEACHERS WHO HAD NO FAITH IN ME). Anyway so now I've just finished my first year of uni and while it definitely challenged my anxiety (I had a lot of panic attacks during freshers and I missed out on the chance to make friends so the rest of the year was really anxiety-provoking because I was so scared of what everyone else thought of me, the loner girl in their classes) I can happily say I DID IT and believe me, I didn't think I could. My dad's words stayed with me and I saw myself as a hideous, pathetic piece of crap. At times I really thought I'd be dead before I finished first year. BUT with Matthew's help and an ever-growing faith in God, I've done it! And over the last few months I've seen huge improvements in my anxiety; I remember at Easter getting really down thinking I'd never be able to sleep on my own without Matthew on the phone or someone else in the room but the last few weeks I've called him to say goodnight and then hung up and gone to sleep alone!! That's a HUGE achievement for me because every night for the last year and a half I've called him to go sleep and kept him on the line for comfort and so I can just shout if I had an attack and he'd wake up to reassure me. The other week I drove to the shop on the big scary city roads to buy food all by myself which I never thought I'd do! And despite being extremely on-edge because of the recent terror attacks which really shook me up, I've been into town a few times with confidence. And right now I'm just over the moon with everything. So please, if you think you're at your lowest ever point, please believe me it will get better. Even without an amazing support network, even if you have to do it mostly alone like I did when my parents wanted nothing to do with my anxiety, you CAN do it! Sorry for the rant but I really hope it might help someone just to see that it does get better.

[typewriterghcst]

Title: The Hero and the Five Senses Rating: G Characters: Mr. Ping, a handful of kids, and some not completely fictional characters. No pairings. Warnings: None Summary: Mr. Ping tells a story, but since he can’t tell the story about the three princes and a rabbit again and no child wants to hear about the Dragon Warrior’s harrowing adventures in the kitchen, he’s forced to make one up on the spot. Notes: this miiight have been my very first contribution to the KFP fandom back in 2014. Can’t remember if this came first or my giant list of Mr. Ping headcanons lm a o It is a little corny bc just about every I write is, but I still have a soft spot for parts of it laughs

So, what story does everyone want to hear tonight? Hm?

Oh, now, you know I can’t tell you the story about the three princes again! Poor little Mei had nightmares about that one, remember? And then her parents almost refused to come back to my restaurant! How about a story where no one gets skinned alive, uh? That sound nice?

Hm?

…Oh! In that case, I do have a story about the Dragon Warrior and the first time I had him chop vegetables-

I-

Wel-

What’s with the faces?

What do you mean, not interesting? I’ll have you know I keep my cleaver ve-ry sharp! The sharpest! It can be harrowing if you don’t know what you’re doing-- you could lose a finger like tha-

Ah, oh, well, maybe a different story would be best, eheh. The Dragon Warrior still has all of his fingers, boys and girls! …but you should still be careful with sharp things. Ahahaha- hhmmm… Ah, where was I?

Oh, a story! How about a new story about a different hero? Maybe one that was also a noodle chef? Ah? …No? Well, alright then. I guess he can just be a regular, boring one then…

Hmmm…

First, we’ll start with the house. A long time ago, there was a pretty house, and a happy family lived in this house. There was a father, who was an old teacher, and his six children: the dancer, the clown, the artist, the medic, the daughter, and the son.

They maybe didn’t look like each other and maybe didn’t act much alike either, but they were happy and they loved each other very much.

But then, something bad happened.

…

Well, that’s just the thing! No one would explain what that bad thing was.

…

Oh, they all knew what it was, they all knew what had happened, but it couldn’t be talked about. It was just there, in every room, and it wasn’t long before it was all they could think about. They even could barely look at each other without blurting it out. The family began to see less and less of each other.

Finally, the father found a little box, went inside, and shut the door behind him. He wouldn’t come back out, no matter what season or time, no matter how hungry or thirsty he was. No matter what his five children said.

…

Huhu, you’re a sharp one, aren’t you? There were six… in the beginning. But, that’s not the important thing right now; what’s important is that all the children eventually followed their father’s example and found their own boxes, beginning with the daughter, who almost seemed to be able to not find a box fast enough!

But she spent days afterward peeking out of it, waiting to see if it was just a passing phase, and if her father and siblings would do the same.

Hm… but it wasn’t just a phase, and she gave up for a lonely life in a little box.

Before long, the entire family had all shut themselves tight in their own little boxes and the house became very quiet and cold and stale with an old secret that couldn’t be laid to rest.

Huu… Ah, this is getting a little heavy, isn’t it? Why don’t we make this where our little hero comes in? Because he had heard about this silent, miserable house and the strange family who had locked themselves away in boxes inside of it, and he wanted to help.

There wasn’t anything extraordinarily special about him, but that didn’t matter because he was already everything he needed to be. He was kind and gentle… hm. Very determined and stubborn, but never with cruel intentions! I don’t think he could ever truly hurt someone… But most importantly, he understood.

The hero understood he couldn’t simply drag the old teacher and his children out of their boxes by force: they wanted to stay inside as much as they needed to go outside. It would be a complete disaster! And not a very nice thing to do anyways, huhu. So! He decided the best way to proceed was to make the world outside as beautiful as he could and hope they would come out by their own choice. It was just a matter of appealing to their five senses. How hard could it be competing with a box?

…That was a good idea, wasn’t it? Kind of proud of myself, really. Hmm… he probably doesn’t know it, but the hero is smart. He just needs a little time to… to- eh, but where was I? Got a little lost there…

Senses. If- if he could create a feast for all five of their senses, surely they’d leave their boxes and rejoin the family. So, which sense do you think he should start with?

Smell is a good one! …Mm, but maybe a little too good. Why don’t we leave it for a little further down the road, okay? What other senses can you think of?

Sight, uh?

Oh! N-no, no, don’t feel stupid, Shu! The family couldn’t see outside their boxes, it’s true, but it was still important! Imagine if they stepped outside just to see a dark, trashy mess! They’d turn right back around and lock themselves in again no matter what happiness the rest of their senses brought them. And for good probably, too.

So, the little hero opened all the windows in the house and let the sun in. He swept the floors and repainted the walls. He righted the felled vases around the house and laid their old plants and flowers back in the yard to rest while planting new ones. What else… Ehhh, he made the old house look very nice! It was hard to believe it was even the same place!

It was the sunlight and the brightness of new paint that lured two family members outside, the dancer and the medic. They were both amazed at the house’s transformation, and they became very quick friends with the little hero. For them, all it had taken was a little bit of sunshine and warmth.

But the rest of the family had sealed all the cracks in their boxes: they couldn’t see any of the new, bright house around them. It would take another sense to bring them outside. So, what should the little hero try next?

…Touch. Very good! That is a sense; that’s…

That’s … that’s a tough one. Let me think.

…

……

………

…I’m still thinking! So… to… appeal to the sense of touch, the little hero replaced all the old chairs in the house and added new, soft cushions to the ones that couldn’t be replaced. He- hm? Well, it’s true, sometimes some things can’t be replaced. Maybe they have too much meaning or memories to them!

…

Mm-hm, even a chair.

So, then… Hmmm, he put nice rugs down and draped fancy silks over the furniture and the windows. He got the dancer and the medic to help him reach places maybe he didn’t know about, the tiny corners and crannies they knew their siblings and father would notice.

Finally, they scattered a few flower petals around the boxes themselves so that if more family members decided to leave them, their first sensation wouldn’t be just the cold, hard floor. What a letdown--!

The combination of the earlier flash of light and new colors with this softer environment finally enticed two more family members enough to leave their boxes: the clown and the artist. They, just like their siblings, marveled at the new look of the house!

Hm… can you imagine such a happy reunion? I’m sure they were so happy to see each other again! They would have spent so much time just catching up, just enjoying each others’ company again… Hu…

Now the dancer told the little hero how the old teacher was the first one who had disappeared into his own personal box, and how it had all started there. If their own father had vanished, what reason did they have to not do the same? So- hm?

…Well, that is a very nice reason, Ming, but let’s just say they didn’t think of that. It’s hard to remember the nice things sometimes when you’re feeling very sad…

So, next, the little hero- ah? Well, there’s no need to shout! You’re sitting not even a yard away from me, Mei. But, yes, the little hero can try the sense of hearing next.

Hmmm… really, it wasn’t so much that he had to create situations for happy sounds or noise, they existed just by virtue of the house no longer being empty! The family members talked and laughed among themselves again; they traded stories with the little hero and enjoyed music and dancing again.

The little hero even found some wind chimes to hang outside the house.

But no matter how much the family laughed or sang, neither the father or the daughter stirred. They had padded the inside of their boxes so tightly and thickly that the music and the laughter couldn’t reach them. They couldn’t hear a thing. It would take a different kind of beauty to reach them and convince them to leave.

What sense do you think he should try next?

…

It is a good time to use smell! That’s a powerful one, you know. Did you know, if sometimes you can’t remember a thing, a familiar smell can jar it right out of you? Just something to keep in mind the next time you can’t find your favorite toy…

So, the hero went to the house’s once-grande kitchen, dusty and forlorn and unused,mmph, what a shame…and immediately set to work making… noodles.

N-no, wait! Don’t look at me like that-- there is actually a point to it this time! You’ll see!

Um…

Noodles. So, the hero stocked the kitchen and pantry with food and got to work, airing out the dust and stuffiness and filling the house with the smell of food again. Soup and dumplings and tea… hm, and peaches. Peaches have a nice smell, don’t you think?

…What, you don’t like peaches? What’s wrong with peaches?

…

…Well, maybe you should try listening to your mama and only eat the ripe ones. That might help, hm-hm. Now… where was�� ah, so the hero and the family cooked all day and ended up with a very nice dinner, with enough for all five of them and then some!

And they had that very nice dinner, heh, but they were interrupted when the door opened. Who in the world could it be? They were all there in the kitchen!

The father had abandoned his box without any of them realizing it.

Because, it turned out he hadn’t been blind and deaf and-and… eh… let me start that again- he’d watched everything that had happened, right from the beginning! From the first step the little hero had taken into the old, silent house, the father had watched and doubted. He didn’t think this little hero could help in any way, no matter how determined he was!

But… he saw his children leaving their boxes, one by one, and- well, wouldn’t you know it- he was impressed! What he had thought of as nothing but a misguided bother turned out to be quite a hero after all, huhu…

So, he followed, and he left his box.

He hadn’t joined them right away, having left the box in the middle of the night before. He wouldn’t say where he’d been, but it didn’t matter anyway. What really mattered was he was there, standing with all of them again, and he wanted to be there.

With that, there was only one family member still missing.

…

That’s right, the daughter! She had followed the father’s example before any of her siblings, and she was the only one who hadn’t stirred at all through all the little hero’s renovations of the house. New colors could fade and chip, and new, soft fabrics could be torn and ripped with such ease, and laughter and songs could be silenced with something as simple as the wrong look. Hm… the poor little daughter…

Ah, but--! Eh, the smell of food had lured her to the very edge of her box, sitting right in front of the door, but she was afraid to go any further! She’d already spent as long as she could hoping, looking for a sign that the rest of her family might grow tired of their boxes… but they never did, and her hope had run out. She was almost certain it was all in her mind, or worse, a cruel trick.

So, it must have been quite a shock, then, when she heard a soft knock on the door to her box.

The father had come to share a bowl of soup.

…

Yes, you can say the last sense, Heng.

That’s right, taste! Eh- what?

…

What, you think that’s a letdown? You don’t think taste is the strongest sense?

…

Well, maybe it isn’t quite the strongest… But, how about this? I always made Po a special soup when he was just a baby and he didn’t feel good. Now, there wasn’t actually anything special about it, but that didn’t matter, because he liked the taste of it and it made him feel better, hm-hm~

And a happy, quiet baby makes a happy, quiet home, whew.

…

Right? It is just like that! And Po still sometimes asks for that soup, even though he’s not a baby anymore and when he’s not sick, because it still makes him feel good. Now imagine if you couldn’t taste those plum dumplings your mother makes for you on your birthday, never again.

…

You see? I think taste is just as important as the others! We put a lot of comfort into foods, don’t you think? Maybe more than anything else sometimes. And they always taste better when they’re shared with someone you love…

So, with that in mind, don’t you think the daughter might be swayed to leave her box after sharing a bowl of nice noodle soup with the father?

…

I think so, too.

So… with that, the father and the daughter left the box behind, hand in hand, and joined the rest of the family again. And they all lived happily ever after, eheh.

…

Eh, what?

I forgot the son? Hm. Oh, I think you’re right. Well, maybe he’d gone away for a long time o-or something…

…

W-well I never said I-- no, I--!

…oh, do you hear that? Sounds like Master Shifu is trying to send a message-- no, I definitely heard something--! It’s time for bed! Hmmm, I’ll be back again with a new story next time, children. Maybe by then I’ll have figured out what did happen to the son…

Goodnight! Sleep tight! And don’t let the bedb-- aah, eh, never mind, just good night~

[rhuemis]

13

13. Introduce your current party.

hoo boy so we got: 

-Scales

-Rhys

-Jeckyl

-Isiah

imma put the lengthy descriptions under a read more aha

Scales ((I dont think Scales even has a surname lmfao)):

-Warlock but insists that hes the party medic

-A white dragonborn that was born without scales due to a birth defect who has more than a few screws lose, calls himself a ‘doctor’ and we cant quite tell whether thats the truth or not

-Grew up in a brothel and now travels with the party to gain ‘medical knowledge’ whatever that means

-Has dissected the corpse of a literal god, harvests organs from whatever we kill and puts them all into bottles and then offers to transplant them into you if you get even remotely injured 

-Is already mildly possessed but then ate some of the tentacles from a weird squid god for fun and then got DOUBLE possessed and tentacles shot out of his mouth and we had to drag him to a temple 

-Something burst out of his chest one morning and now its his familiar. We were all stood at the door to his room like ‘This is Scales, this could just be part of his morning routine for all we know.’

- Speaks with a heavy German accent which makes anything Scales does like 4000 times better

-Isiah has literally promised his corpse to Scales

- Despite his quirks is protective of his party and deserves a pat on the snoot every so often

 Rhys Lignius

- Half-elf sorcerer that currently has more levels in warlock than sorcerer

- hes the mom friend of the group and is a pretty serious guy, hes the one who gets shit done but not before he monologues so hard that the rest of us party members say ‘oh fuck no im not listening to Rhys’ spiel again’

-Came from a very important family and is very proud of his Latian heritage, doesnt let you forget that hes a big fuckin deal lmao hes on a mission to do something in relation to his father but hes not quite spilled on exactly what yet, hes just trying to get to some ancient ruins

- Is so much of an actual loser that whenever he casts Prestidigitation he clicks his fingers and the whole party has started doing it back at him jokingly

-Despite being a square we all love him and hes probably the most reliable in the group. Lawful Good™.

-Flavours my bacon.

-Is the metaphorical designated driver of the party, cleans up after us shit monkeys.

-Is physically around 22 years old but might as well be 55 years old.

Jeckyl Corvus:

- Newest party member, a half-elf rogue that keeps getting cockblocked from actually stealing anything

-Wrote a really intense anonymous love letter to my character and slid it under his room door at a tavern a few years before the campaign started after watching him perform and recognises Isiah but Isiah doesnt realise it was him who wrote the letter yet

-Spent some time in gay baby jail for being part of a group of thieves that got bamboozled by a rich and powerful family and was abandoned by the people he thought of as family.

-Wanted to be a tailor in the years before his taste for adventuring kicked him in the nards. He ended leaving his family to go and explore but this decision ultimately ended up with his family being stripped of everything they had so now hes plagued by The Guilt™. Wants to eventually save/steal enough money to get his family back on it’s feet again.

-Rugged and handsome but the most important thing you need to know about Jeckyl is that he keeps a pet mouse in his pocket named Rupert and that one day Jeckyl wants to fucking transmute him into an owl or some shit because he just cannot be satisfied huh. ‘Oh Rupert was my only friend whilst I was living on the streets blah blah blah’ yeah sure tell that to his face whilst you go fuckin Fullmetal Alchemist on his ass. Love Rupert for the contents of his character, not his form smh.

-Acts suave and cool but loses all of that composure when it comes to Isiah. Would probably commit sepukku if Isiah died. 

-Has a lot of knives, which Scales finds ‘respectable’. 

-First combat fuckin crits the fish plant man that had Isiah grappled 15ft underwater out of sheer gay panic. RIP Shape of Water fish man, you’ll be sorely missed.

Isiah Vakalyn:

-My character so you know hes....really something. Half-elf bard.

-Comes from a weirdly strict family who were actually fucking cultists and were ((and probably still are)) planning on sacrificing him to a demon or some shit but Isiah didnt even notice this shit and still has no idea. He thought everybody was taught Infernal and that families were just like that. His family told him to become a bard and he obeyed. They told him study and he obeyed. They limited his interaction to the outside world and he only really started thinking for himself after he made his first proper friend who then also later fucked him over real bad.

-Ran away from home after being cucked by his “only friend” into maybe murdering her dad we dunno if he died or not but I sure did stab him a lot. She lied and told him she was being abused by her dad and Isiah saw red and agreed to her murder plot only to be abandoned midway through. He also pickpocketed for her for like a year beforehand bc she said she was poor. She was very not poor. Bring on the subsequent trust issues.

-Is a bard but hates getting attention so he wears a black rabbit mask when he performs in front anything that isnt a small crowd. He found that mask in his house so you know thats gonna be some spooky cult shit.

- Is only 5′4 and is very conscious of it. Luckily the party is very understanding and calls him ‘the halfling’ or ‘the midget’ lovingly to watch him implode.

-Once accidentally stole a dwarven baby. Named it Isiah jr.

-Has a pet eel named Illius who is the most fuckin talented eel you’ll ever find. He glows! He talks! He beats your ass at card games! Translates languages! We found him behind a door that was sealed by magic and was only opened after Isiah played the music notes on the map we found. Those notes were an exert of a song by the most famous of all bards, Rickus Astelyus. Lo and behold behind the door was a huge tanks with a heckin good boy inside and Isiah adopted him IMMEDIATELY. Loves bacon bits and scritches.

-Received an anonymous love letter a few years back that gives him major anxiety and literally avoids the city he got it from. RIP Jeckyl youre gonna have to talk to him about that, Isiah is oblivious and has no idea lmao.

- Loves to eat bacon and recently bought out the bacon from the local tavern. Feeds some to Illius because its what he deserves. He’s also currently carrying a fuckton of bread, cheese, jam, and flour. Food is practically his way of diplomacy as he gives some to whoever he meets. It’s almost like his way of nervous self-defence. When tentacles shot out of Scale’s mouth Isiah just started shovelling bread into the tentacles and Scales woke up feeling incredibly full lmao.

-Has also in his inventory: a gay erotica book, a romance novel in a language he cant read, a rainbow slinkie, a magic mood ring that gives him poison resistance, 6 wolf teeth, a wolf leg bone, some gems, 4 days worth of rations on top of all the food he already has, a violin, a flute, and a fancy lute that he found in Illius’ chamber.

-Hes just nervous but loud mouthed and contradicts himself a lot. Anxious and eccentric. Says that hes just a bard and wasnt meant for any kind of greater scheme but the universe has other plans.

-Was once dabbed at by the god of entertainment, Apollon. ((Apollon is the only god Isiah really cares about lmao)).

and despite him not being in the party anymore im gonna give honorary mention to my favourite skyrim-glitch-of-a-barbarian, Florys:

-Was the character of a guy who played with us for one session. At the beginning of the next session he was on webcam with us all and we were about to start playing when suddenly his camera cut out and he went offline and weve literally not seen from him since. He’s not been online in over a month now. Some common theories in our group is that hes off fighting ISIS or got arrested for weed right there and then.

-Due to this weird player disappearance our DM, Benjamin, had to take control of Florys whilst we looked for a new party member. In the session that the player disappeared from we didnt know if he was gonna come back or not so Benjamin had Florys suddenly contract a horrific stomach bug and was just in the tavern toilet presumably making a fuckin hole in the floor with the noise it apparently made lmfao Isiah actually had to try and play music over the top of Florys’ shitfest at one point and only just managed to drown the sound out. But as time went by days were eventually passing in the campaign and the player still hadnt come back so poor Florys was not having a great time in the bathroom for several DAYS.

-Eventually the DM realised that this player was not gonna come back and that the party was short on a tank so he started piloting Florys for a while to accompany us on our quest ((and miraculously recovering from his terrifying stomach illness)) but hed forgotten how the player said Florys was so just was making shit up on the fly. I specifically remember the original player of Florys saying ‘Oh Florys isn’t like those stereotypical dumb barbarians’ which is why I lost my shit when the Florys being piloted by the DM turned around and said ‘What the fuck is a triangle?’ ... Florys is practically brain-damaged at this point, I think it might be the DMs retribution for the player disappearing lmao

-Threw all of his hand axes into a river during one fight and then into a cieling the next, which provoked Isiah to jokingly call out: ‘Oh, Florys! You’re so handsome and cool!’ which Florys with his last 2 braincells took seriously. The handsome and cool line became an on-running meme and gets used whenever any of us fucks up lmao

-For some reason grew rlly attached to a piano he found in Illius’ chamber and carried it around with him out of two parts stubborness two parts piano LUST.

-We ended up using him as a mule to carry all of our heavy shit bc he’d just do it and he literally wouldn’t think anything of it.

-We found a giant birds nest and Florys for some reason picked it up and carried it away and got fucking kidnapped by a giant bird so now hes literally just in fucking sky somewhere sat in a birds nest and being flown around which is wild bc we expected the DM to just kill Florys but instead hes just in the fucking sky where he belongs. Like legit hes just sat in there. Hes just in the sky. Godspeed.

HEAVES I could write so much more but this is already incredibly lengthy so here take it

also @redthebattler idk if any of this would be interesting to you lmao

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

did i tell you about the wanker we had on our team tonight?

like, we’re at 2fort right... and this guy, rising erectile eagle or something to that effect, is a soldier.

the team, red, is pretty much spawncamped by multiple soldiers from the get-go.

no one can leave, no sentries live more than a millisecond. and it’s like ??? it’s 2fort, if you have to spawncamp that hard to get all three captures, you must be terrible players (spawncamping with a no cap treaty is different tho)

this guy spends the ENTIRE game in chat going on about how ‘his entire team are idiots/retards/have a collective ig of 7′ and ‘should just uninstall’... he breaks out fuck and cunt later on...

dude... had like 6 points... in all the games we played... his mediocre ass was levels above mine, and that’s the best he could do... as a soldier, at 2fort... 

but it was toooooooootally the team’s fault.

dude would get out of the spawncamp, and fuck off, telling the other team ‘it’s really me vs all of you my team are useless’

and like, the blus were pretty much in the same boat us us, “alright edgelord chadley, time to calm down now” 

everyone was just laughing at the dude, bc how pathetic can you be, really...

and not one game, but every game... bruh, it ain’t the team... but if you maybe helped for once, then they could get some points too instead of being spawncamped the whole match... ??? 

-

it was just really embarrassing to see him go on, and on, and ON like a tantruming small child... and all you can imagine is some angry tween shouting at his computer screen bc he’s pretty much mediocre at a random video game... but like, the possibility that he could be my age, or older (and there are always super-angry old dudes out there on the servers) is chilling

Don’t make me call supernanny on your ass, chadley erecteagles...

-

the real frustration was that the dude kept trying to votekick anyone he didn’t personally think was performing ‘to his standard’ (the high standard of 6, average, btw)... and it was like, bruh... make like Elsa and Let It Go...

No one got kicked

Not even him... bc it was sort of funny to watch this dude just about crap himself with anger, via misspelled chat text... 

the other team wasn’t buying it either, like i said, they were asking the dude to chill from the get-go, but eventually everyone ignored him

kind of sad, tho, kind of pathetic

just keep thinking about how whacked your life must be to get super fucking pissed about a video game... at 2fort in TF2, in casual and not comp mode...

like... everyone else managed to have fun when they broke out of spawn, my son... and maybe you would have played better if you didn’t pause every three seconds to ALL CAPS TYPE ANGRY BLAME-LADEN BABBLE AT THE OTHER PLAYERS 

-

my bruh, chill

it’s legit just a game... and you kind of suck at it, and that’s #okay

please cease being so damn cringeworthy, perhaps?

-

like, you always get that one dude every few matches that loses it over a loss, but never to this extent, not all damn game, it’s kind of ????

-

now, medics who uber someone only to have them blast off like team fucking rocket (or heal heavies who have a sandvich but let you die anyway), they’re the class with a legitimate grievance 

or engineers on a team of like four pyros, who get backstabbed bc none of them spycheck... legit grievance

or spies that are in the perfect position, all staked out and everything, and then a teammates draws fire on where they’re hiding so it was all for nothing... 100% behind that level of fury

or heavies who have to run the whole map bc the engineers won’t put down a damn tele, hella legit frustration...

or legit anyone standing next to a sniper when they get backstabbed or attacked, and their ‘help’ gets ignored... is usually less frustrating, assuming they die immediately after as karma intends...

or, medic again... when you’re ALMOST at uber, and your healee just fucking RUNS into a group of enemies, who take them out... and then turn on medic... it’s like, ‘dude?’ but they always spam that e key for another chance at uber and you’re like, ‘Amyoyo, my good merc, amyoyo’

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actually, it’s hilarious to get confused reactions when you tell someone (often someone who’s calling teh medic(s) all sorts of horrific names for not pocketing them exclusively, “Patient (their name), Diagnosis: AMYOYO”

bc then they have to ask what it means, but you’re busy so it bothers them all match until right at the end (as they die again bc no heals for you asshole), you have mercy and tell them... “Alright Motherfucker, You’re On Your Own”

...some dude was legit picking on this like, level 2 baby medic on my team the other week... they were doing their best, alright... they had uber issues (had to be told how to pop it, and how to time pre-match ubers so they didn’t die immediately)... this dude, like, bruh... 

so, ‘what the fuck is wrong with you faggot’ and ‘you’re a fucking terrible cunt, medic’ was all levelled at them... and it was like, “My dude, apologise to them, your mediocre ass has like 12 points...” 

they refused

“Patient (their name), Diagnosis: AMYOYO” 

he was so pissed it was beautiful... but bc it was directed at me, it meant nothing... the babymedic did better, esp bc they learned not to just uber on the command of an asshole... and also, they got some assists

hate wasting uber, tbh

“Medic Medic Medic Medic” spams the players you know want a pocket but can’t do anything with it except get you both killed with no assists. “No No No No” you respond.

Dude, you give the uber to:  a) yourself if it’s life or death b) yourself if you run into a sentry c) the nearest person you can find in a surrounded scenario d) the person you know will do the best work with it e) whoever is convenient and not on your shitlist f) everyone, that is to say, if everyone’s on fire and you have uber... it’s the fastest way to save them all esp. if the pyro’s still alive g) whoever the fuck medic wants to give it to, really

there’s this one dude, BounCe or something zany like that, who spent an entire match spamming E and getting angry when I DARED to (as sole healer on a 12-player team) heal OTHER PLAYERS than HIM... you know, bc he was fresh out of spawn and the others, who had actually been fighting, were near death. If you deployed an uber not on him, the boy lost it... ‘cunt this, cunt that’... bruh... chill

I didn’t know AMYOYO at the time, but I just said, “Good luck with that, motherfucker” and left him to die. He’d stand right next to me most of the match hitting ‘E’... and then run off to angrily die somewhere... 

dude wasn’t a great player, but we had other brilliant players on the team anyway... who deserved uber...

side note: as a medic, you have to work with who you get... if i get a relatively new player who gets ubere d(to get us the fuck out of there or give them a chance to do the thing), and they miss all shots or aren’t quite sure what to do... that’s chill. sometimes you have to say, ‘when I do that, the uber, you’re invulnerable for a certain amount of time... you can shoot down the sentry or enemies and live’, and the next time it’s better. 

but on the other hand, there are dudes who demand it, then do nothing with it, consistently... and are jerks to the rest of the team (esp. supports) for it

...so this guy, bounce, was busy being a dick in all the following matches. but then, the night before last, same dude pops into a game i rando’d in as medic... same shit. he didn’t remember. “Fucking hela me you cunt”  “Why Bounce, that didn’t work the last time, my son, diagnosis: AMYOYO” and he lost it... I was laughing so hard. 

Some dude named scooby doo is also on my shitlist, for attacking the entire team but mostly the medic. like dude... if medic is dying, alone, and has an uber, surrounded by the other team... no one is waiting 15 fucking seconds for your ass to respawn to pop it... rage all you wish...

honestly, the match i mention to start with, the other thing was that the dude did nothing but demand a pocket medic for himself and complained the team was useless bc they didn’t want to provide him with one...  ...i was tempted to medic it up with everyone else, bc i rando’d in as one to start with, but the lag was making it hard to work out where people were. i refused to risk healing the dude, and went engie instead

Eternal AMYOYO for all of you... it’s just a game. it’s great fun and we love it, but it’s just a game and if you’re that serious, go to comp mode... where you can circlejerk to your own importance... 

(honestly, most of the teams recently have been generally newish players who are trying to excitedly learn new maps and gameplay, strategies, etc. don’;t ruin it for them bc there are consequences)