#ignore how he has no nails i forgot to download those..

[simstoyourdismay]

first sim i made after deleting my mods folder 😛

[redmelawashere]

Alright I got woken up at like 3 AM with FORBIDDEN MEMORIES™️ and remember that MelloNear literally had a fandom video game. What other fucking fandom has SHIPPING VIDEO GAMES.

I think it just hit me since recently I've been thinking a lot about how fandom spaces shift over time (especially as we have re-boots, live-actions, or other media that helps reinvigorate fandoms like currently with A:TLA) and honestly, MelloNear has had so many ups and downs and like…as someone who was in this fandom WAY too young and grew up with it I want to see how many people on tumblr, who were there in ye olden wild west days, remember the stuff I do and also for those of you who weren’t around back then but are big now, here’s the insane history that I remember:

1 - LiveJournal (LJ) and the LOST FICS LJ was initially one of the better places to find fics – but a lot of authors jumped ship when FF.NET started to take over and for other reasons that were before my time. Finding fics on LJ that haven’t been deleted was/is hard and their UI is trash I never could get a grasp on it. (The irony of FF.NET now being dead and people jumping ship to AO3 and Tumblr lol.) Astyzia_ii used to write really fucking good MelloNear stuff there. She was one of the first people I ever read that had insanely good Near characterization. Unfortunately, her account no longer exists. But some of the things she wrote were things like:

Near being a total brat (at the time, no one else was really writing Near like that. Including Near lying to Mello about being assaulted by other children at Whammy's, just generally putting him in his place, etc.)

Mello painting Near’s nails black (then this trope just went off on FF.NET and everyone was writing fics like that - I really like when stuff like this comes out of fandom)

Mello finding out that Near, despite being in love with him, thought Mello was so unapproachable he had sex with someone else (implied Giovanni) and Mello is basically confronting Near about it at a time when Near was treated as a prudish virgin in fandom

Finding each other in the apocalypse AU

Mello and Near being like high school sweethearts (salthearts?) and Mello wanting to go to a University in the BIG CITY but would ignore the offer if it meant staying with Near (and super tragic fic too. They pull over on a freeway after an argument about it and then Near just straight up gets hit by a car after pushing Mello out of the way 💀 and you don't know if Near survived)

And obviously, many more really creative AUs

2 - KurosakiAkane and VIDEO GAMES Akane, as Spanish artist and the original “cursed moons” drew some of the most viral and prolific MelloXNear doujinshis and EVEN MADE FANDOM VIDEO GAMES. Like I can’t believe I forgot about this. Akane literally made fandom yaoi video games and they were SO GOOD. What other fandom has shipping video games you’d think it’d be the norm I can barley wrap my head around it

Pretty sure her website (www.cursedmoons.com) is down so you can’t download them directly from there or see her full doujinshis anymore

Her DeviantArt account is still live so you can see some stills and teasers from her doujinshis.

Her LJ account is also still live but more so as an archive.

Her first game “D.nD Poisoned” can be downloaded here if you scroll to the bottom (but I haven’t checked the link so be wary…) but it was basically taking place during Whammy’s days, and yes, Mello has a knife cause he’s unhinged since those were just the times ig.

“D.nD Infection” was her second, unfinished game, which would have been when they were mid-Kira investigation post Mello blowing up the base. I found a website that hosts the short demo she released.

Her games literally inspired a new wave of AUs for the fandom in the fic department and she was just a titan who kept everyone together on all corners of the internet. When she decided to leave the fandom in like 2011 after 2010’s great FF.NET purge of M rated fics it kind of felt like the beginning of the end.  

3 - Doujinshis (fandom comics) Most doujinshi artists had their own websites and MANY were Japanese / Chinese translated into English (pretty sure Akane was the first one to create them exclusively in English...). There are so many archived on YouTube that I used to watch all the time. You can even still find some of Akane’s doujinshi’s on Youtube like:

January

Lost Innocence

The Last Birthday

Game Over

Chocolate Kiss

One of the ones that was most impactful on me was this one that I cannot remember the name of, and it wasn't by Akane, but basically Mello, freshly 16 trying to stay alive, resorts to prostitution, and the big revealer at the end is he’s just kind of left there, alone, opens up his hand and there’s a little white puzzle piece he stole from Near and pretty sure the last line was something along the lines of “no one else” and I just 😭

4 - Lost Art and the Famous Water Colours

A lot of that water-colour MN art you see floating around was from, if I'm not mistaken, a Chinese MelloNear artist and their website I think was just "w" or something and she had created 100s of MN art.

5 - ForbiddenSoul562 and FF.NET Beef and Fan Fic Rap Battles

Soul was one of the BIGGEST creators on FF.NET (and luckily, she’s still active both on FF.Net and here on tumblr!) I remember when she had like a fic battle with another creator FragilePuzzle (who is also on tumblr and active – but they post M-ll-M-tt stuff now and pretty sure they deleted all their MelloNear fics... Their active handle on tumblr is mizzmellos I think? Anyways, they’ve also switched from writing to art and its really good!) And there was like a whole “vote who you think wrote the better fic” and it was like Clash of the Titans. Shame that Fragile, as they used to go by, doesn’t like MN anymore since they also wrote a lot of really good stuff. When Fragile stopped posting and Soul went on an extended hiatus that also felt like another beginning of the end loooooool (pretty sure Soul and Mzz had an interaction here on tumblr reminding each other of each other and I had so much social anxiety I was like headbanging watching this interaction go down and if I'm remembering correctly it started cordial but didn't really end well but I could be 100% misremembering the tone of the interaction but if you dig through Soul's tumblr you can probably find it or mzzs for that matter.) 6 - Kids Writing Dark Tropes

I feel like I should make another post and just…describe how Mello and Near were portrayed individually and in a relationship during that time since it was honestly insane. Very toxic, very star-crossed lovers who revolve around each other but are devastating together and are healthier a part, and so much more. I’m much happier with where their characterization and how the fandom has evolved currently from those times lol. But I think over the years I’ve also realized how fucking young all of us were (I was literally like…13 consuming all this media which retroactively, I’m like YIKES 18+ is 18+ for a reason and I even realized some of my favourite authors / creators who I thought were way older than me or like “cool teenagers” were also close to my age and not that much older so no wonder we were all writing crazy unstable relationship shit like that - which can be fun! - but this was literally all. the. time.).

Honestly that’s all I can remember for now but what a wild ride. I know FF.NET is like, a super hard platform to use now (and just gets worse every day 🙃) but if anyone wants some MN fic recs from the vault lmk and I’ll make a post about it.

-Redmela

[purplesurveys]

698

3 words that describe...

Your personality: (A bit) aloof, sensitive, and shy.

Your friends: Loud, laidback, cheeky.

Your family: Emotionally distant, (mostly) religious. I’m cheating so much on this looooool.

Your life: Right now? Put on hold. Thanks, coronavirus.

Your current mood: Hungry, and irritated eyes.

Your dreams/goals in life: Ok three words will be too short for this so I’ll just enumerate three whole phrases: I’d like to have a job that pays well, get a house that doesn’t have to be huge, but it has to come with features I’ve always wanted like cove lights and a yard for the kids and dog to play in, and get settled.

Your partner/boyfriend/girlfriend (if you have one): Funny, intelligent, courageous.

The person you last talked to: Brave, considerate, responsible.

The room that you are currently in: Comfortable, well-lit, homey.

The world in your perspective: Many stupid humans.

Yes/No questions...

Are you creative? Absolutely not. I like doing the logical/rational side of things... I let others take care of creative aspects, if they have to be present.

Do you like spending a sunny day outdoors? NO, unless I’m at the beach then sunny is the only way to go. Otherwise I’d rather be indoors or somewhere air-conditioned thx.

Do you get upset easily or over the littlest things? I can be. It’s usually when I’m already stressed/antsy enough, or if I’m on my period.

Do you dislike any of the people in charge of you (i.e: teachers, bosses)? I don’t particularly dislike my prof in my Rizal course but he sure teaches like he doesn’t want to be there. I just haven’t been getting the enthusiasm off of him, and that’s really important to me when it comes to being interested in my subjects. Oh but my PE coach this sem is a bitch - one time I forgot to wear the shirt color she demands us to follow and she ignored me for the entire period. Quickest way to make me feel shitty. So yeah. Probably her.

Do you like to read books/magazines/newspapers? I like books only if they’re non-fiction. I...don’t really read magazines anymore, and I kinda have to check into newspapers from time to time because I take up journalism.

Are you family-oriented? Towards my girlfriend’s family, yeah. I don’t really care about being family-oriented for my own.

Have you ever been friends with someone in the past out of sympathy? Yeah, this girl named MJ in Grade 7. She was a new-ish student then and no one was approaching her, so Gab and I tried to befriend her for a time. Didn’t really pan out that well - we just didn’t mesh - so we stopped talking not long after.

Do/did you ever get nervous around people you are/were crushing on? I still do.

Do you believe in global warming? Duh.

Are you happy with the way society/the world in general is? I’m typically pessimistic when it comes to people, so no not really. I just feel like the bad news always overweigh the good these days - and while good news can serve as rays of sunshine sometimes, I’d rather face reality than live in my own bubble and choose to be oblivious to all the shitstorms happening around me.

Do you ever question your own religion/beliefs? I did, as early as when I was 10. The Bible just didn’t make sense to me to my frustration, and I’ve always felt disgusted with my school guilt-tripping us to be good people because a man got crowned with thorns and nailed to a giant cross. I figured I can be good simply because I choose to, so I let go of my Catholic roots quickly after. Having no friends that time surely forced me to think hahahahahahaha jk 1/2

This/That...

Do you prefer today's trends/styles, or ones from the past? Both have awesome stuff, there’s no need to pick. I’m really into the mom jeans of the 90s, but I also like the yellow trend that’s been going on recently.

Being too cold or too hot? I’d rather be shivering but be comforted with a thick blanket, than sweat bullets and have absolutely no way to cool myself down.

Uploading music to your iPod, or buying CDs? Depends. I used to buy the CDs of my favorite artists then just download the other music I’m not as passionate about.

Fruits or vegitables? VEGETABLESSSSSSSSSSSS. I hate fruits.

Chocolate or vanilla? Chocolate, for the most part. Vanilla tastes like nothing to me. Baseball or football? I don’t watch either and I probably won’t enjoy either either lmao, but I have a bias towards football because my girlfriend’s sisters play the sport. The mall with a bunch of little stores, or one single, big store? Malls kinda work differently here... they’re all one big building with a bunch of restaurants, clothing shops, sports shops, novelty stores, etc. Rap music or rock and roll? Not a big fan of either but I’d go with rock and roll I guess. I like some rap but none of them make me feel things, which rock can sometimes do for me. Roller skates or roller blades? I owned a pair of roller blades when I was 10 and had fun memories with it even though I never did learn how to do it properly. Horror movies that give you nightmares, or romance that makes you vomit? Horror for sure. I don’t even like romance-only movies; they have to be laced with a lot of comedy in between for me to enjoy them. Making more friends or making more money? Making more money sorry LMAOOOOOO Living it up and being stupid, or being safe and never pay the price? I’d always rather be safe. I hate getting reprimanded or caught doing something bad or being punished. Doing more of the talking, or more of the listening in a conversation? Listening, please. I don’t like having the attention on me for too long. Giving or receiving? Giving I guess? I always have a pretty good sense of what my loved ones need, and it’s always nice to see how good they feel when I give it to them. Cats or dogs? Dogs. Playing on the swingsets or the slides (as a kid)? Swings. I was traumatized by one slide when I was 6 because it was apparently blistering hot when I slid down from it, and it almost burned my butt off lmao.

Would you rather...

Bolding these because I’m lazy.

Live off of just food for 2 days, or just beverage for 2 days?

Tell a lie and be believable, or tell the truth and still be blamed?

Die at 65 with the love of your life, or live to 85 being single?

Fart and be heard from far away or fart and be smelled from far away?

Be tickled for an hour straight or be woken up by a bucket of cold water?

Have a cabel snap while bunjee jumping or have the bar go up on a coaster?

Have a deadly plague or a nuclear bomb hit your country? (Don't get ideas!) < This is a sick question to ask these days lol. I’m not answering.

Lick a frozen telephone pole or stick your hand in dry ice? Be rejected by your favorite celebrity or by someone you secretly admire? Give up your favorite food for eternity or eat a bowl of dead spiders? Make a lot of money at a job you hate or little money at a job you love? Jump off a bridge or from a moving car? < Another sick question.

Favorites...

Color(s): Pink, sky blue, off-white.

Song(s): I don’t have one at the moment. I haven’t listened to any music in a while, save for lo-fi.

Artist(s): Beyoncé if we’re talking solo, Paramore if you mean bands.

Music genre: I don’t have a favorite one; my taste is pretty scattered.

Movie: Two for the Road or Good Will Hunting

TV show: Breaking Bad, Friends, BoJack Horseman, Queer Eye

Actor and actress: Gregory Peck; Audrey Hepburn or Kristen Stewart

Movie/TV genre: Romantic comedy or drama lmao, I’m a sappy bitch. Suspense and psychological horror are also cool.

Restarant: Yabu, Mendokoro Ramenba, or Silantro

Food: Sushi

Dessert: Macarons

Hobby: Going to museums! Or reading about the history of anything.

Activity to do out of boredom: Scroll my social media feeds orrrrrr do surveys, or watch cooking videos on YouTube heh.

Type of weather: Bleak, rainy, and chilly.

Book: I don’t have a favorite.

Subject in school: History

Item that you own: My car hahahaha

Pastime: Eating out and window shopping. Maybe I’m just saying these because I haven’t been to a mall in a while :/

Site: Palawan

Tourist attraction: I’ve always wanted to go to those towers that lets you go to the top floor and the floor is just literal glass. If I’m gonna be a tourist-y tourist, that’s the first place I’d go to haha.

Random questions in your own words...

If you could have any desired superpower, what would it be?

The history nerd in me would take up time travel in an instant. And I won’t even be using it as a superpower lmao, it’d be like a research pastime for me.

What would be your dream job?

If I wasn’t such an introvert and if I were a lot better in handling crowds, I really would have wanted to be a pro wrestler.

Descibe your dream date:

Museum in the day, cute dinner at night.

What was the best day of your life like?

I don’t know if that has happened yet.

What was the worst day of your life like?

So far my worst day was when I wasn’t accepted into my school paper in high school and I spent like 18 hours crying my eyes out. I liked writing and was accepted for my portfolio, but people thought I was too shy to fit the group’s dynamic and ended up getting booted. There are quiet writers too, assholes.

If you ever have kids one day, what you you name them?

Too early for this lol I’ve only had name picked out - Olivia.

What's one thing that will bring you out of your worst mood no matter what?

My dog. FOR SURE.

Who's the most annoying person you've ever encountered?

Jem, someone from my college who thinks she’s close with me but I really do not like her at all.

If you could grow up to be like anybody, who would it be?

I don’t believe in having role models. I just want to be the best version of myself.

If you could change something about yourself, what would it be?

My mental health could be mental healthier.

What's your favorite inspirational/famous quote? I don’t depend on these either. Describe your dream ice cream sundae (unlimited toppings): Meh, I don’t like sundaes. Just scoops would be fine with me. What comes to mind first when you think of your favorite color? I have no idea why this is what I remember, but it was the day I went shopping for school supplies and got myself a pink clipboard, pink pencil case, pink expander, and pink highlighters. I think it’s because it was that day where I had to acknowledge that pink was in fact, unironically, my favorite color HAHAHA What's something in your life that you once hated but came to like? ^ The color pink. And chicken curry. What's something in your life that you once liked but came to hate? Cooked salmon. There was one phase my mom made it almost everyday and I just got sick of it. I refuse to eat salmon to this day unless it’s sashimi or in sushi. If you could stop any chaos/problem in our world today, what would it be? This fucking pandemic. 2020 CAN’T CONTINUE BECAUSE OF YOU. What would be the best way to die, in your opinion? Peacefully, in sleep, with no pain. What would be the worst way to die? Falling off a cliff (or anywhere high) and landing on a boulder EUGH I cringe at it. Also getting impaled. AND plane crashes. If you could give your room a free makeover, what would you do to it? I’d make it look spacier by moving the bed to the wall so there’s a lot of free space in the middle. I’d also add a desk, work chair, and a lamp so I can study there. If you could have an unlimited amount of anything, what would it be? The number of years my dog would live. What's one thing that you like that would probably surprise your friends? They know I like punk rock in general but I haven’t shared any of the music with them. It would definitely surprise them. Out of everything in the world, what holds the most meaning to you? Stability.

[chelseaapproved]

I’ll Sing a Song Beside You

Read on Ao3!

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9  | 10  | 11  | 12  | 13

Chapter Five

“Would you rather lick the floor of the metro or lick a public toilet?”

“Ew! Neither!”

“You have to choose one, M.”

“I wouldn’t want to do either of those though.” Marinette looks up from painting her toes to glare at Alya.

“That’s the whole point of the game,” Alya groans, clearly frustrated with Marinette. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so bad at this.”

“You keep giving me gross ones!”

“Ugh fine.” Alya switches from the green polish to the blue one. She’s going for some fancy marble effect that Marinette is jealous of. For all Marinette is creative and artistic, she has yet to master the art of painting nails. “Would you rather marry Adrien or have a successful career designing clothes?”

Marinette feels her face warm up at the idea of marrying Adrien. She might be a little pathetic. “Both,” she says, once she gets control of her pounding heart.

“You can only choose one.”

“But they’re my two life goals, how am I supposed to choose?”

“As previously stated, multiple times, that is the point of the game. It’s not supposed to be easy. How have you never played this before?”

“I don’t know,” Marinette shrugs. “Can we play something else? I’m clearly not cut out for this game.”

Alya definitely says something but Marinette doesn’t pay attention—she’s too distracted by the very familiar ‘thunk’ she hears on her balcony. Marinette freezes, her back stiffening as she realizes she forgot to lock her sunroof. Which means—

“Good evening, Mari! How are… you…?” Chat stares wide-eyed at a slack-jawed Alya.

Oh no.

“Chat Noir,” Alya exclaims, breaking the silence. “What are you doing here?”

“I—er,” he glances at Marinette, panicked.

“Cookies,” Marinette blurts out.

“Cookies,” Alya repeats.

“Yes! He, um, orders cookies from us sometimes. And if he gets here after my parents go to bed, he’ll come up here to get them!”

“Right,” Chat says, throwing Marinette a look that clearly tells her the lie sucks. “So, do you have my cookies ready for me?”

“Um.” Marinette glances around her room but there are obviously no cookies to give him. “I must have gotten distracted by our sleepover that I forgot to bring them up. I’ll be right back.”

“I can get them if you want,” Chat says quickly.

“No, you stay there. Just give me a second!”

Marinette flings open the trap door and races down the stairs. They usually have a few sweets at the end of the day but most of their leftovers get donated to soup kitchens and homeless shelters. She scrambles to find a few cookies and rummages through the cabinets to find an extra box to put them in.

She grabs a marker and writes ‘For Chat Noir’ in fancy calligraphy. It’s already been too long so she doesn’t bother with string or ribbon.

Rushing up the stairs, she can hear Alya questioning Chat. Marinette flinches before bursting into the room. Chat is awkwardly standing in the middle of the room with Alya beaming up at him.

“Here are your cookies! Sorry to keep you waiting so long.”

“No harm done little lady.” Chat grabs the box out of Marinette’s hand, brushing her fingers as he does so. It sends a tingle down her spine that she ignores. “The sweets from here are well worth the wait.”

“Right. Well, I hope you enjoy them. Bye!” She all but pushes Chat back toward the bed so he can escape through the sunroof.

“Don’t forget our interview,” Alya calls as Chat starts up the ladder. Marinette winces; Alya must have cornered him into an interview while she was getting cookies. She makes a mental note to bring it up to him the next time they meet.

“I won’t. Take care of yourselves. Thanks again for the cookies!” Then he’s gone.

There’s a beat of silence.

“How long has Chat Noir been visiting you and why haven’t you told me earlier?”

--

Chat doesn’t visit for the rest of the weekend. It should be good because after the very awkward and uncomfortable conversation with Alya, they spend the entire weekend hanging in Marinette’s room. Marinette thinks Alya was hoping to catch another glimpse of Chat but thankfully the cat knew to stay away.

Unfortunately, Ladybug is able to beat the only akuma of the weekend before Chat even shows up. Normally, Marinette would consider this a good thing but it’s been days since she last got to speak to him—really speak to him, without any third-party members present—and she misses him.

“Hey Marinette.”

Marinette startles and jumps in her seat, hitting her knee against the bottom of her desk. Already embarrassed, Marinette can feel her face growing warm while Adrien watches on with concern.

“Are you okay,” Adrien asks.

“Y-yeah,” she forces out. “You’re fine. I mean, I’m fine. Me. Is fine.”

“Okay…” he says with a hesitant smile. One of these days Marinette is going to have a conversation with Adrien that doesn’t make her want to bash her head in a wall. “Uh, anyway, I was wondering if you had any plans for lunch?”

Marinette blinks at him. “Me?”

“Yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Would you—Do you have any plans?”

Marinette looks around but everyone has already fled from the classroom. She has no lifelines. “I—I was just going to go back home. Alya and Nino are going on some weird date-not-a-date thing and I usually eat at home anyway because the food is fresher and warmer and it gives me an opportunity to talk to my parents. But I don’t have to do that! I am always open to other things and eating with new people and doing whatever during lunch. I mean, not whatever, I still want to eat but I just meant I don’t need to eat at home.”

Adrien stares at her, a small smile forming on his lips that gets her heart pounding. He’s too beautiful for her to handle.

“I have to go home and wanted to know if you’d mind coming with me?”

The next few minutes are unclear to Marinette—she thinks she might have blacked out—but suddenly she’s in the back of the limo with Adrien beaming at her.

“Thanks again for coming,” Adrien says when he catches her eye.

Even in her daze, Marinette can recognize it’s a weird thing to say. “You don’t need to thank someone for hanging out with a friend,” she says.

Adrien shrugs. “I know but… I had a rough weekend and this morning was even worse and I just… really needed a friendly face?”

Marinette’s heart goes out for the boy sitting next to her. Her biggest regret about her interactions with Adrien is that he seems like the kind of person who really needs a friend but she is wholly underqualified to be that person for him.

“I’m sure Nino would have rescheduled his thing with Alya for you,” she says.

Adrien looks down at his lap. “I didn’t want to ask him to do that just for me. Besides, he’s still not allowed in my house…”

Marinette closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She is going to get this out properly the first time. “Adrien,” she starts. When he snaps his eyes to her, she feels bold enough to hold his hand. “Friends like helping each other. And Nino, especially, is a wonderful human being who will always be there for you. You could have asked him for help. But I’m glad you reached out to me.”

He squeezes her hand. “You’re really important to me, Marinette.”

And here comes the blushing. She pulls her hand out of his and anxiously plays with her hair. “Ahh… y-you’re important to me, too.”

Adrien’s colossal bodyguard thankfully cuts off their conversation by opening the door. Marinette squeaks out a ‘thanks’ but the man stays stoic and silent as usual.

Adrien leads Marinette to the dining room where two plates are waiting for them. He must have called ahead and asked the chef to prepare a meal for her as well and it just… melts her. She doesn’t think she is going to survive this afternoon.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, picking at their salad.

“D-do you want to talk about your weekend,” Marinette finally asks. She stays looking at her food because that’s the only way she can have this conversation without panicking.

“It just wasn’t a good weekend,” Adrien shrugs. “Not much to talk about.”

“Okay,” Marinette says. “I’m here if you want to talk.”

“Thanks, Marinette,” he says with more gratitude than she can handle. This entire lunch is more than she can handle, in all honesty.

They lapse back into silence. Marinette wracks her brain for something to say and break the awkwardness between them but her mind is unsurprisingly blank.

“My father overbooked me again this weekend so I barely had time to breathe, let alone relax,” Adrien says. Marinette puts down her fork, intent to give Adrien her full attention. “I was supposed to go over Nino’s to help him test out some new software he downloaded but I had to bail last minute. He said he understood but there’s only so many times you can ditch someone before they give up on you, you know?”

“I’m sorry you missed out on the weekend. Nino understands your father is…particular,” Marinette settles for a much gentler word than what she’s thinking. “We all do and none of us judge you for it.”

“I feel like a horrible friend.”

“You’re not. I bet if I called Nino right now he would agree that you’re an amazing friend, Adrien.”

His cheeks turn the faintest tinge of pink, which is absolutely adorable and has Marinette blushing like crazy herself.

“You’re an amazing friend, too,” he mumbles.

Her face grows even hotter so she decides she should move on from that particular subject. “Y-you also mentioned today wasn’t too great either.”

Adrien sighs. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“I have a fencing match tomorrow and Father said he would try to make it this time but when I woke up this morning, he was gone on a week-long trip.”

Marinette stares in horror at the poor boy in front of her. She can’t imagine what it must be like to live with a father like Gabriel Agreste. Super-talented and awe-inspiring fashion designer, but unfairly neglectful father.

“I’m so sorry. That must feel awful.”

“I’m used to it.”

“Is there anything I can do,” Marinette asks.

“Just being here is enough,” he says. Somehow, Marinette doesn’t faint on spot.

--

Despite the incident on Friday, Chat drops into her room without any warning. She supposes he isn’t the one forced to interact with a suspicious Alya all the time now.

“Hey,” she says, barely glancing up from the banner she’s working on.

Chat leaps off the bed and stands next to her. “What are you working on,” he asks.

“My friend has a meet tomorrow,” she explains, “and his family isn’t going so my friends and I are going to go and root for him instead.”

“You’re making a banner for him?” His voice sounds off but Marinette doesn’t bother with it.

“Of course. What kind of fan would I be if I didn’t make a sign?”

“You’re so nice,” he says. “I can’t believe you’d do this for him.”

“It’s not a big deal. I’d do it for any of my friends.”

“You’re a really wonderful person, Mari.”

Marinette puts down her banner and properly looks at him. He has tears in his eyes and is looking at her like there’s no one else in the world that matters.

“Chat, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he says, blinking rapidly.

“Come here.” She leads him to the chaise and pats the spot next to her to sit. He immediately sits and leans into her, letting his head rest against hers.

“What happened,” she asks.

“I needed this,” he sighs.

“You’re making me nervous, Kitty.”

“The past few days have been crappy and I didn’t get to see you, which made it even worse. I had a friend cheer me up earlier today but I really just needed this.” He nuzzles the top of her head to drive his point home.

Marinette reaches up to scratch behind his cat ears, a spot she knows he’s weak for. “You want to talk about it?”

“Not really. It wasn’t anything bad and I already talked to my friend.”

“Want to watch anime and cuddle on my bed?”

“Absolutely, I do,” Chat says, leaping off the chaise.

Marinette grins at him and grabs her laptop while he runs up to the bed. She glances at the half-finished banner she abandoned, then back at Chat. It’s going to be a late night, but both her boys deserve it.

[goonlalagoon]

Wish Upon A Walking Star || Leagues and Legends

For @thats-the-moon-grey, who answered my request for prompts back in June with ‘anything with Miz Eliza’

Miz Eliza is from @ink-splotch​‘s  Leauges and Legends trilogy, which can be downloaded for free here.

Minor spoilers for the whole trilogy below.

(Read on Ao3)

Somehow she always forgot how much brighter and closer the stars were out in the desert, whenever she travelled elsewhere. When dusk fell and the moon rose, looking close enough to walk right up to, her heart gave a warm little twist of homecoming - home wasn't a place, it was something she carried in herself, wherever she planted her feet, but these shifting sands were the steadiest place she knew.

The engine in her battered truck had broken down yet again, but Miz Eliza considered that a problem for later. For now she sat on the cooling roof and mapped stories into the lights and spaces in the sky.

Her brother had taken her hand at the end of her visit, in his stern, smart office at the Academy, Rupert waiting patiently outside to throw his chubby toddler arms around her legs and say goodbye, and asked her once again to stay. He had offered to find her a place as an instructor in their sages' programme, if she wanted, but she was always welcome in his home.

"There's a library, and a whole suite of rooms I barely use. Please, Eliza, think about it? I..." worry about you, finished the furrow in his brow. Her brother had always been a solemn worrier, set shoulders asking for responsibility, heart yearning for stability.

Eliza didn't want stability, and her brother could never understand that - that she didn't keep home outside of herself as an anchor, a destination, a beacon. She wanted chaos, but not as he saw it. She wanted exploration and discovery, broken down engines and wrong turnings that lead to deep pools or tiny villages.

Eliza wanted only the stability she already had; her brother's love, her son's love, the stars scattered above her, her own steady heart and nimble hands.

The first time she went to the desert, she was nineteen, rattling along in the passenger seat of a different battered truck. Her supervisor was driving, making occasional stilted conversation. The selection for the placement had been down to an essay competition, and it hadn't taken long to realise it was for the best the essays had been anonymous for assessment. He seemed to think that because she was a woman she would have delicate sensibilities.

She'd grown up in Rivertown, exploring and observing those harsh streets. She'd begged, bribed and simply asked her brother to take her out on camping trips and hikes. Before she'd left St John's Port for this trip, he had taken her out to a field and set up targets, and taught her how to fire a gun.

"So that when you inevitably forget to pack rations you have a chance of getting something to eat," he'd said with a despairing head shake and a fond smile, as he showed her how to skin it ready for cooking. She didn't tell her supervisor any of this, just watched the world outside the window with wide, sharp eyes.

It was late evening when they broke down on a desert track, hours from the university they were basing themselves at. Her supervisor grumbled and dug blankets out of the truck and looked around for something to make a fire with so he could have a cup of tea. They would have to wait until the next day and hope the next traveller along this road knew how to fix their problem. Eliza ignored him and climbed up onto the roof of the van to get a better look.

In sunlight everything had been gold, but the sun dropped below the horizon like a light flicking off, and the world was painted in silver. The stars were bright, ethereal but seeming close enough to touch, and she lay on the roof to try to map them out. Her heart was beating in her chest and it felt three sizes larger than normal. She thought her brother had probably felt something like this when he walked through the Academy doors.

Eliza fell asleep on the roof of the van and woke cold, but it had been worth it. Before the sun had had time to turn everything baking hot a truck rattled down the road, pulling in to an obliging halt when they waved frantically. Eliza peered curiously over the shoulder of the desert dark woman who climbed out of the driver’s seat, waving at her kids to stay put, and watched closely while her supervisor fretted about the time off to the side.

The woman's hands were nimble, calloused and certain, oil settling into the grooves of her hands the way ink was always rubbed into Eliza's. She barely seemed to be thinking, the innards of the truck as familiar as breathing, and Eliza's fingers itched to take notes. They set off in convoy, the children appearing in the window every so often to wave back at them until they took different turn offs. When they reached the university, Eliza made for the library after putting her bags down but before unpacking. She threw an eager glance at the shelves of anthropology and desert culture, but wandered until she found a few shelves on engineering. Most of the books were too complex to be useful, but she found a promisingly battered and oil marked volume tucked away in a corner.

They had two weeks of comfort, her supervisor said half sternly, half mournfully, warning her to make the most of it while she could. Eliza spent quite a lot of that time wandering the streets and markets, getting sun-burnt and picking up street slang in half a dozen dialects. She hunted systematically through the library's section on desert cultures and slipped into lectures, asking questions with sharp, confident zeal. One lecturer made the mistake of blustering at the presence of a woman in his lecture hall, and she peered at him curiously until he trailed off in embarrassed bemusement at her lack of response. She sniffed scornfully, and kept going to his lectures, because even if he had misguided ideas about the right to learn, he had some interesting stories about the ancient desert cities that had been largely lost to the dunes.

"This isn't the kind of internship where you fetch coffee and file papers." her supervisor had said, peering at her doubtfully, at their first planning meeting. "You'll be doing as much work as any other member of the team." She'd smiled and nodded, teeth a little gritted. "That was what I was planning to do, sir. I want hands on experience, and enough material for a paper at the end of my dissertation - ideally enough material to form the basis for more, of course, but definitely at least one." He'd harrumphed, and she had lifted her chin with a hint of defiance. Her opinion of the man hadn't improved since then, but she was socially aware enough after years of her parents’ dinner parties to know she would need his grudging respect in the future and tearing him to shreds right then wouldn't do her much good.

It was a good thing she wasn't supposed to be fetching the coffees, because her memory for who liked cream and who had sugar was terrible, and her habit of getting sidetracked by a debate or interesting conversation meant that it would turn up cold anyway. Her filing was pretty all over the place too, but she rarely needed to double check important facts in any case. The things she cared about stayed in her head just fine.

The van rattled back out of the university after their two weeks, laden with supplies and having gained two more researchers - a PhD student and a technician - who were pleasant enough company, even if they too seemed to be mourning their departure from the city. Eliza watched the desert roll by, and wondered why on earth they missed it when this was where they were going? She was shaken from her thoughts when the engine coughed, spluttered, and died.

While the others peered at a map and grumbled, Eliza propped the bonnet open and tried to match the machinery inside to her memory of the illustrations in the oil marked volume she had read through. A toolkit settled onto the road by her with a clank, and the technician smiled at her. “Done this before?” Eliza shook her head, and gestured at the engine. “It broke down on the way into the university. There was a woman who knew how to fix it, I think she just tightened that bit there…”

“Yeah, I see, hey, grab the wrench outta the box for me?” He chattered while he worked, grousing about poor funding and how often they had to fix up the vehicles they were able to use. He cleaned the wrench off with a rag and gave her another cheerful smile. “Should still arrive with some daylight. Remind me when we get there and I’ll show you the basic tune ups to check for, yeah? Anyone working out here should know how to fix their own truck.” She flicked her eyebrows up and sideways, where her supervisor was complaining at the dutifully listening PhD student. The tech picked up the toolbox and grinned. “Hey, I said should.”

When she went to bed that evening, and the next, there was oil ground into her fingertips, staining the edges of her nails, but her mind was spinning over instructions - check this valve, the level of liquid in this thing, looks like this has a tendency to rattle loose but at least it’s an easy fix…

The third day of travel brought them to the encampment they would be based in for the time being, sheltered between the walls of a rocky quarry. There were two trucks already there, looking weatherbeaten and with sand piling around the wheels. As they pulled into the makeshift parking lot two of the local guides leapt up out of the shade to help them offload supplies. Eliza peered with interest at their soft, flowing clothes and tried to catch any of the phrases she’d learnt in the city in the rapid tumble of their chatter, without any luck.

She helped Cris, the technician, set up the two tents they’d brought and dragged the food and water inside. When they finally emerged after setting up, dark had fallen. Three weeks into the desert, Eliza still wasn’t quite used to that - between one blink and the next the sky would go inky black and star speckled, the moon hanging just above the horizon, seeming a bare step away from the top of the rock walls. There wasn’t so much a sunset as a changeover, like flicking a switch, and she stood breathless for a moment to soak it up.

Someone - one of the guides, she guessed - had lit a campfire and there was a woman stirring a pot over it. Eliza made a beeline for her. One of the few female professors at the university in St John’s Port had advised her that making friendships with the women of a culture was always a good first step - they tended to have more influence than many would assume, and were usually vital to most of the day-to-day goings on of the camp, so getting on their good side was just good sense. On her third try, Eliza managed to pick the right language to say ‘that smells delicious’ in, and eventually resorted to mime to ask if she could help at all.

Five minutes later she was stirring some kind of stew, and had entirely exhausted her local language skills, but she knew there was a translator out in the field who she hoped would be able to teach her more. Her supervisor emerged from the tent where he’d been going over plans for the next day as the rest of the camp returned, trudging in from the other end of the canyon, waving and calling out their greetings. He scooped up a bowl from the stack and held it out expectantly as he fell into conversation with one of his colleagues. Eliza scooped three ladles of soup into the bowl and took it from him with a smile and a polite thanks, ignoring his dumbfounded expression. The woman who’d done most of the cooking looked like she wanted to laugh, and Eliza winked at her on the way by, settling by the fire to enjoy her food.

The interpreter turned out to be a no-nonsense mountain born woman who introduced herself as Dichren, and could speak seven languages fluently and read confidently in fifteen. Eliza tailed her whenever she got the chance, scribbling down phonetic phrases and asking endless questions about tenses and regional variations. Cris was terrified of the woman, who barely came up to his shoulder, and peered over her notes in the evening and complained about her terrible handwriting. Eliza blinked at him. “Well, I didn’t write them for anyone else to read, did I?”

It was Dichren who showed her how to tie her hair up into a soft scarf to keep it off her neck and protect her from the sun (and so she could happily ignore the grimy stiffness of it, after days of it filling with sand with limited water for washing it), and slathered sun block on the back of her neck with an endless litany of scolding for not having packed any for spending two months in the desert. Eliza just hummed absently, busy pondering the layout of the ruins they were in the middle of excavating. They were unlikely to find anything groundbreaking, but it was fascinating to see it all laid out before her, not just  photos and field notes in someone else’s handwriting.

But it was the second month of her trip she was looking forwards to the most - travelling to another, smaller dig, in the company of one of the nomadic clans. A month of living with them, a chance to study a small cache by day and the nomadic culture in the evenings - their stories, their knowledge, their histories. Her supervisor didn’t seem to look forward to it as much, but Eliza rolled her eyes behind his back while the corners of Dichren’s eyes crinkled up in silent amusement as she nodded soberly and said that yes, camels were deeply unpleasant, and yes, of course, nomadic desert camps were utterly devoid of luxury, and of course it was a good thing for academia that he was so self-sacrificing.

The nomads rode into the canyon camp that evening, and Eliza’s fingers were already itching to take notes. Professor Morton scurried over to a tall, athletic man calling out instructions and greetings, but Eliza’s eye landed on a straight-backed woman, a crown of hair and lifted chin, a baby safely in a sling around her chest, and grinned to herself as she scrambled down the rocks. She wanted to be nearby to see the expression on the professor’s face when he realised the leader of the group was a woman - so much for his repeated lectures on ‘delicate sensibilities’ and ‘desert cultures having strong opinions on women’.

They rode out early the next morning, travelling slower than the nomads usually would to allow for the fact that someone had to lead their camels on foot as neither Eliza or the professor knew enough to direct one themselves. They were borrowing two camels that belonged to Aisling’s nephew, who was leading the pair along. Dichren thrust a full bottle of sun-block into Eliza’s bag, with stern instructions to use it, and looked doubtful when she dutifully agreed. Enough of the nomads spoke both languages that the interpreter wasn’t travelling with them, and Eliza was sorry to see her go. She gripped her friend’s hands, squeezed gently, and told her to stay in touch. Dichren smiled, soft, and said she wouldn’t need to - anyone could see Eliza would be back, and Dichren had no intention of going back to the cold mountains.

Eliza had never seen a camel before, except in photos. She watched it kneel on command, and felt a little sympathy for professor Morton’s complaints. It didn’t so much sit down as collapse in two stages, and from watching the others mount up she wasn’t sure how exactly one stayed put as it got back to its feet in an equally jerky motion. She resigned herself to falling in the sand, and accepted Mo’s hand up to get into the saddle. He fussed around for a moment, securing her bag and checking the blankets that covered the saddle were secure, before flapping the lead rein to make the camel get back up. Eliza yelped as she was thrown forwards and backwards, clinging to the pommel of the saddle hard enough to hurt, and someone laughed. It wasn’t malicious - it was a child, and she grinned in the direction it had come from, even as she heard the distinctive tone of voice that meant someone was being scolded. Professor Morton’s beast heaved itself to its feet, and Eliza just had time to wave before they started off down the canyon.

The camel swayed with every step, and it took some fidgeting to find a way of sitting that wasn’t uncomfortable and avoided kicking Mo in the back every other step. But once she was settled and able to properly look around, she felt her heart skip a beat. They’d been in the desert for a month, but this - this was different. The dunes rose around them, rolling on and on to the horizon, shimmering in the heat, heat haze blurring the line between sand and sky. Partway into the ride Aisling dropped back to plod along next to them, maintaining polite chatter with the professor until she interrupted him in the middle of a sentence to order Eliza to take a drink.“You have to keep drinking, or you’ll make yourself sick. That water skin has to be empty by the time we stop to eat, understand?” Eliza blinked, and took a mouthful of water under the eagle-eyed gaze, and Aisling nodded sharply before dropping back to her polite conversation with the offended professor as though there had been no pause.

They didn’t bother pitching the tents that night, just rolled sleeping mats out. Eliza burrowed happily into her squishy sleeping roll and watched the stars. She was half asleep when one streaked across the sky, falling out of view close to the horizon, and she smiled softly to herself. She didn’t particularly believe in omens, but she decided if she did she would take it as a good one.

She woke with the sun - dawn was as brief as dusk - and wandered in search of breakfast. The cook fires were already going, upturned metal bowls heating over the fires. The men around the fire waved off Eliza’s offer of help, but let her sit and watch as they stretched dough into thin circles and threw it over the dishes to cook into the flat-breads that seemed to be part of every meal. A shadow fell over her before someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned to find a child with the most infectious grin she’d ever come across hovering behind her.

“Mom says you and the professor can eat with us.” He loaded a stack of flat breads onto a plate and beckoned her to follow. The professor was already waiting with Aisling and her husband, sitting on patterned rugs and eyeing the tray of food set between them with what he probably thought was well disguised suspicion. Eliza ignored him, and spent most of the meal talking to her guide, who seemed delighted to have someone new to trade stories with.  He happily shoved some kind of creamy cheese and fig jam onto her plate, before smearing both over his own flat bread and rolling it up like a pancake, while his mother sighed pointedly at him for talking with his mouth full. Eliza hid a smile. Even when she was scolding him, Aisling clearly doted on her son.

With a little more experience of camels, it took less time to settle into a comfortable position, adjusting to the sway with every step. Eliza shifted the blankets covering her saddle around in an attempt to cushion the harsh peak at the back from bruising her back further, though she wasn’t optimistic it would work and had mostly decided to accept the inevitable bruise.

Liam was perched amidst a pile of his family’s belongings, and cajoled the cousin his reins were looped to into keeping pace with the visitors. Professor Morton dripped syrupy friendliness, and Eliza snorted to herself, catching sight of Liam’s polite but disgruntled expression. She didn’t know much about children, but she remembered that she had hated being talked down to as though being young meant she couldn’t understand.

So when Professor Morton decided he’d humoured a child enough and got out a book, Eliza grinned over at the boy, digging a notebook out of her pocket. “I hear that your people are excellent storytellers?”

She forgot to write anything down after the first few sentences, but she remembered every word that lunchtime and scribbled it out. The desert people had a tradition of storytelling - of course they do, she’d thought in the lecture where this had been mentioned as something notable, every culture does, just because we typically write ours down nowadays doesn’t mean it isn’t the same thing - but Liam, young as he was, had the knack for carrying you away with the tale and dropping you breathless back to reality when he was done.

Years and years later, she would read back over the worn pages of her notebook and laugh at the world. Liam had woven a tale of stars and skies for her, and that had been the day the she met the wandering star. Not that she knew that at the time - he was just a man, calm and thoughtful, who breathed the world in with his eyes wide open so as not to miss a precious, fleeting moment of it.

Aisling’s eyebrows had risen when they arrived at the rocky outcrop they’d intended to camp at to find a man peacefully watching them approach. He called out the proper, polite greetings, travel stained and alone, but looking…well, for someone on their own in the desert who didn’t look to have supplies with them, and had an accent that suggested they weren’t desert born - though Eliza couldn’t place where exactly it hailed from either, and readily admitted to herself that she actually meant that his accent just wasn’t like Aisling’s or her peoples’ voices. He was paler than them, too, though still darker than her own Rivertown typical skin.

Suhail watched everything, an infinite curiosity and patience that drew her attention like a lodestone. He looked around for the two days journey with bright interest, and asked about the work of the professor and herself with just as much fascination. The professor blustered, somewhat, thrown by keen interest and no background, and a little insulted that the student’s work was apparently just as interesting as his own. Eliza ignored him and watched the way the camel Suhail had been given permission to ride lipped happily at his sleeve, wondering how he’d befriended the creature. She’d nicknamed her own steed ‘Your Temperamental Majesty’, because the camel certainly lived up to the species’ reputation in terms of temperament and seemed to have a permanent expression of aristocratic disdain.

After the fourth day of travel since leaving the archaeologists’ main camp, they reached an oasis Aisling declared to be within reasonable distance of their small dig. Eliza helped with setting up the camp where she could, but mostly sat with Suhail watching with interest as family groups moved around with organised chaos and familiar precision to pitch tents and build cooking fires.

Somehow Suhail managed to join them on the dig itself; Professor Morton seemed bemused, but Eliza just nodded at him as they rode out in the early morning stillness. It was less than an hours journey, with a rocky scramble to get to the sheltered remains of buildings, weathered and smoothed by the desert winds. So far as she could gather Suhail had no training at all, yet he poured over the layout of buildings with fascination. He passed her a heavy waterskin several times, with smiles and resigned sighs. Eliza found a buried fragment of pottery, and when she (reluctantly) passed it over to be packed away so she could continue searching Suhail handled it like it was spun sugar, like he too could see its value.

In the afternoons they both tagged along in Aisling’s footsteps, observing and questioning when she wasn’t too busy; Liam and the other storyteller’s drew them like moths to the campfire. She filled page after page with scribbled notes just by listening to the answers to his pointed, insightful, and above all genuine questions. How did they lay out the camp? How much did tent designs vary, between families, between tribes? How long did tools usually last, were they passed down or were they transient? How did the chain of command and authority work, through generations, through the varying group sizes the tribe broke down into depending on resources and family ties? How does this game work..?

That last was how they both ended up playing a very serious game of something like hopscotch, delighted children giggling at how these clumsy adults didn’t know any of the rules. Eliza nodded and mentally took notes as they were explained, and felt her eyes flick to the solemn, serious expression on Suhail’s face. It wasn’t false, wasn’t a studied mask for humouring the children, intended to be inoffensive and unpatronising.

He had looked the same, keenly interested and deadly serious, when asking Aisling about nomad politics, the old men by the fire about finding their way in the desert, the women resting in the shade about recipes and finding ingredients, as he did asking children how they played. Later, she thought that might have been the moment she decided to fall in love with him, at least a little, because he understood. There was so much to the world, and all you could do was look around at every part of it you came across.

She had her own questions, too, and she thought she could see him taking his own notes in the sharp look in his eyes, the thoughtful distance in his gaze. Do cloth colours have any meanings? The patterns and embroideries? How do the tribe groupings work, beyond the immediate family tent? Is everyone here related, or can you join a goum because you want to travel the same way or can pool resources? How often do people move between groups? What do you call that cluster of stars, there? What about that one?

Their dig was only a small one, else it would have justified more people. Once it had been a handful of buildings, an enclave of stillness in the dunes, before the landscape had changed and it had been worn down to bare stubs of walls in the sand. Suhail spent a morning pacing around the site at her instruction, and found the remnants of the well that had sustained the tiny settlement based on the layout of the buildings. Eliza sketched it out carefully on her map, and he smiled like helping her find it had been the greatest privilege he could imagine.

Professor Morton spoke mostly to Aisling, or the men who seemed to be heads of their own tents. He spoke scant words of the desert tongue. Suhail seemed almost fluent - at least, as fluent as he was in Eliza’s own native tongue. Precise, but not necessarily familiar, sentence structures and phrasings that correctly conveyed meaning but not the way you would expect. Eliza wasn’t that fluent, but she could hold a rough, simplistic conversation, which combined with the ability of most of the nomads to speak at least some of her language, thanks to trade, and a joint effort on mime and drawing in the sand meant she felt reasonably happy she was getting answers to the questions she was trying to ask. Professor Morton sniffed when she tried to talk about the weaving the older women had shown her, lounging in the shade in the heat of the day, and she gritted her teeth. She wondered how you could go so many years studying people and cultures, and not realise asking the women about their world was just as important as asking the men.

Professor Morton was happily measuring the rudimentary burial site they had found, and was cataloging (scant) generations and theorising on whether this had been a waypoint or a settled dwelling. Eliza had uncovered what she increasingly thought had been a child’s room, with Suhail helping. When he drifted away, the morning after they started to focus on the room, she was vaguely surprised and then he faded entirely from her awareness once he was no longer handing her tools or carefully excavating at her side. It was only when she stopped squinting at her page as she precisely recorded the pattern on a carved cup that she realised he had set up some kind of awning to keep the sun from beating down on them, burning the back of her neck and glancing off of the page. He settled back by her with a smile, and nudged the water closer to her hand before picking up a soft brush to help clear sand from the raised whorls under her fingertips.

When a group of men went out hunting at the end of the month, they politely invited the professor to go with them, and he said he’d be delighted. Eliza glanced wryly at the slightly waxy expression on his face and then at a couple of kids nearby nudging each other and giggling, and wondered if he knew he was being - very politely - mocked. Or possibly tested. They invited Suhail much more enthusiastically, but he declined. Eliza didn’t bother to volunteer the fact that she could hit a rabbit reliably, though she was tempted to do so sheerly on principle. Once the hunting party had left, Aisling sent Liam to fetch both of them from where they were watching a weaver at work, and invited them to sit with her. Her younger child - Lanetia - was fussing in her sling, and her brother reached out for her without prompting, bearing her away to the shade of their tent and crooning a lilting song. Aisling watched them go, face softer than Eliza could have imagined it, then turned back to her guests.

“So, the professor has gone off to record our men’s barbaric, unrefined hunting - or possibly the mystic way in which we commune with the desert, one can never tell which way one such as he will write these things, and I do not particularly care - but it would be very rude of me to keep you both here in his absence.” She smiled slyly. “We tend not to build things that last, in the desert. The sands shift, and so do we, but sometimes there are patches of stillness. My husband’s nephew is restocking some of our food caches while we are in the area, and has said he would not object to your company. There are some more intact ruins nearby - an old church or temple. I know that you have already packed your equipment ready to leave, but you should see them before you leave; I believe they may be of some interest, if only for the variation.” She folded her hands precisely, and questions burned on Eliza’s tongue - where did you learn to hold yourself like this? Who taught you to stand so that the world would part politely at your feet? Does it hurt, that the professor thinks there’s some mistake, some bizarre exception, in your authority, or are you really so confident that it slides off you like rain? What does strength like this cost you?

For once, she didn’t ask, just swallowed her curiosity down. This strength was not something to be questioned lightly, in case it shattered. This strength was not something to be questioned unless you were one of those who had the privilege of being someone Aisling could let herself shatter before. Eliza looked at the still face, the strong hands, the crown of hair, and bit her tongue.

It took two days to reach the supplies cache, carved into rock and hidden unless you knew it was there. Aisling’s husband’s nephew and his friends where polite and friendly enough, but kept themselves to themselves. Eliza looped her camel’s lead rein to Suhail’s saddle - he was better at directing the stubborn, lovely creatures - and stared around as though it was her first day in the desert. Every day felt like she was discovering it all over again, and she kept waiting for it to become mundane, familiar, unnoticed, but every morning she still had to catch her breath.

They didn’t talk much, for that journey, and she appreciated it. The end of the research trip loomed and she wanted to take this warm silence in. It didn’t need to be filled, and she wanted to hold the calm inside herself when she left.

The supplies cache was beyond the ruins, so Suhail and Eliza stopped there while the nomads went on, more interested in checking supplies and storing everything carefully than archaeology, which she supposed was probably reasonable even if she found it utterly incomprehensible. The ruins were worn smooth with years of sand and wind, crumbling arches and a deep well that still held water. With a huff, the camels flopped down in the shade, and Suhail reached for her hand to help her over a missing step. She didn’t let go.

Dark fell while they were still exploring the ruins, the sky lighting up with stars. Peering into the distance Eliza could see a pinprick fire, about where the nomads had said their cache would be, and she shrugged over at Suhail. He shrugged back and dug through their saddlebags for blankets and sleeping bags, and started telling her a story she hadn’t heard about a cluster of stars, her hand still clasped in his.

In the morning, he left. He had to move on, he murmured, seeming half in a daze. He had to keep looking. She didn’t ask him to stay longer, because she’d never expected him to be there in the first place, because she would be leaving soon too, because she’d somehow known this was the last journey they would take together. She held his hand for a moment longer and he smiled, warm and open, eyes fixed on her for a moment like the universe was written out in the lines on her skin. When she left she would carry the stillness of the desert, its uncaring winds and the silence that wrapped around you, but she would also carry the warmth of his hand in hers and the way he listened to every word she said like it was the first time anyone had ever spoken.

She watched him vanish into the haze of sunrise, then reached for a notebook and flipped to a fresh page.

“Though the nomadic people of the great desert have a rich storytelling tradition, this has rarely been documented outside of the discussion of the importance of story sharing to maintaining cultural identities. Therefore, I collect here…”

[ladysuetini]

Guest Post: Your Biggest Influences In 2018 Will Be Buried In Three (3) Garlands

In 2018, three(3) garlands spurred by your influences will define your life. And talking about your life, I mean the two states that makes a man get off from bed to work his butt off. It is your Happiness and Unhappiness states – (sad state).

These two states we know are capable of turning the table upside down. People get happy and do wonderful things, the same people get furious and do logical things. Not just normal things, I am talking about circumstances if observed under the microscope does not wear a baby diaper.  

For some of us, our garland will be bad business/partnership, relationship (intimate), sources of information taken in. And to some, it will be the struggle to define the mission and visions of their lives.

You know,

One of the troubling garlands in the world now is the ability for relationships to stick. We hear of the separation game – divorces as frequent as if we are reading new blogs posts. And the most amazing thing is that we take it for granted.

Helloooo, we are in 2018. If you don’t manage that particular relationship you are in now. Not only will you be unhappy – manageable though. Your garland will affect someone you don’t want to hear. Just think about it.

See the shocking statistics.

A recent lecture, marriage expert Hellen Chen asserted that 85 percent of relationships end in a break up. Seeing as only the elite few relationships end in marriage, and 50 percent of marriages end in divorce, this really can’t come as too much of a shock to anyone. Yet, still we trudge on, hoping the next one is the one that will do the trick.

While I am no professor of intimate relationships- Let me give you a clearer example.

In case you were excited to have a sweet sixteen or thirty as the case may be, and suddenly, you got stuck or frustrated on the way – things not really working as planned.  

To you, you thought it was just going to the win bar and downloading your heart. The usual lines – I am madly in love with you. Luckily, she said yes!

Fast track to 30 days, she became bored around you.  Oh, my! Believe me, you never saw that coming. Predicted, the next question is where did I get it all wrong? Don’t get it twisted because I will tell you.

Before I answer you. A quick hack for people that always look for love with desperation.

Be careful of what you ask for else, you might go from where you were (your stable state) to where you didn’t want to be (your worst state).

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At this point, it is only Jack Canfield (AMAZON AFFILAITE LINK - THE BOOK - HOW TO GET FROM WHERE YOU ARE TO WHERE YOU WANT TO BE) that will salvage you.

Answering your question now.

Where you went wrong, right?

You got it all wrong when your desperation turned you a by go man. That is to say. You always wanting to see your date. Imagine hanging around your date from 17th November 2017 (she accepted your proposal) till 5th December 2017 without missing a day. Is that fair, what about her space, what about the sense to miss you? No wonder you were single on December 10th2017. Lol.

You got it wrong when you forgot a love language that says “Always give a girl her space, especially when you’re trying to woo her. Don’t keep bumping into her intentionally, avoid constantly staring at her each time she’s talking to another guy, and stop calling her every night. Give her the chance to miss you around”,

Okay, that’s it. A great hack for newbies. Always bear it in mind, most people do not like too a clingy person.

Now, you may ask how this is relevant. It is because it is one of the garlands that can influence your happy or sad state in 2018. Just imagine breaking up on 25th December. Wouldn’t it be nice to wear a black and black; sac-cloth than a red and white? Haaha!

 YOUR BIGGEST GARLAND INFLUENCES

While we have already specified some garlands, ours for consideration will be tied to three - business/partnership, relationship (intimate), and information take-ins.

You may ask why the three.

From observation, almost every of man’s biggest problems has always come from those neighborhoods.

If unhappy in a relationship, business partnership not working out, believe me further misgiving information taken in can make things even dirtier.

So, a man’s life is tied mostly to those three. And if their garlands will be influenced, these three need be questioned.

Garland

Garland is simply a state, a bucket you find yourself at a particular time. Of course, it can be more or less a state of mind.

Although Isuamfon Offiong explained how and why you should reveal your sheets in 2018 for total wholeness, I want to stress a little bit about it.

Your concealed sheets can be your biggest influence in 2018 which will disrupt your garland.  There is no need to be ashamed because we all have our sheets. Some were caused by us and some just happen because they are sheets.

The most mitigating effect is that we can’t be happy with our concealed sheets. At least not for 2018. I revealed my sheets and got wholeness. You as well can learn and get it down without being ashamed.

��GARLAND 1

Your Relationships

I don’t know the level and type of relationship you are in right now. The big deal however is, it can be your biggest influence – a determinant of your sad happy states.

Without mixing words, I know that love can make men blind or act irrationally. And the next moment will be suicide if not tamed. I still remember those years back then when I had a fight with my sweet sixteen in high school. We fell apart and I was quick to finalize everything which was; that’s it, we are done!

Don’t take the later too serious because I was the one that first picked up my flat 2008 Motorola cell phone and called her.

But there was a twist. In a fight I was supposed to be the offended. I turned the accused. My offense? For saying it was over! Just over an issue I was supposed to be a fair hearer.

 The thing was that I couldn’t just stand being sick for my sweet sixteen's love. And the only choice left on the table was the reconciliation.

In case you want to follow the rather path, Isuamfon Offiong will soon post three (3) unforgivable gifts you can give your enemies in 2018.

See, if at a teenage level, I could run amok with my feelings, how much more those that are courting and married? So, no need to establish further how (our relationships) it can influence us, right?.

The best option now is knowing your sheets and playing the cards because everybody at one point in time had their bad relationship garland. The simple hack is both parties working on themselves.

If you two won’t do this together, forget about mending. Because doing your part from one angle will put a wholesome question and demand on the other partner. This will be the effect of not doing it together.

You learn a particular relationship concept (a need for your man to fulfill). You wait for him to know it and act. But this is 3 years still waiting. In 2018, you have already decided that on January 11th, you will blow it off.

One advice please. Instead of blowing it off on his ignorant, it is better you reveal his sheets to him, thank you.

 The Virtue: How To Work It Out

 #1. Commit to Working Together

If you don’t want the relationship to be your biggest influenced garland, you can commit to working together with your partner.  

If he does not want to collaborate. I’m just wondering if he wants it to work after all.

 #2. Don’t Be Judgmental

It is not easy to pass this test most especially if your partner gives you every reason to judge him or her.

While humans are just another free moral agents, being judgmental can belittle you if at the end of the day, what you concluded was vague.

Of course, I know it is still not easy not to judge when you are taken for granted. If you would hear me out, one thing that can make you a better person is watching things closely before showing the red card - conclusion.

 #3. Don’t Over Exaggerate

I don’t really know if exaggeration is same as being judgmental, but I have in my relationship learned not to always Over Exaggerate – not even a bit again.

Why?

My guesses are always wrong.

Hang on! I will give you a big picture - an example.

This is it.

I can immediately exaggerate that my girlfriend doesn’t want to pick my calls just because I called 3 times without a pickup. That’s super easy to get me upset, mostly if the situational report was important (lol-situation report).

At such an event, it is easy to be influenced into over exaggerating that she didn’t want to pick my calls or something. But the REALITY?

After it all. I will find out that the phone was charged at the barbers’ shop. (Just hoping that is a great example).

Believe me, even though I don’t have a hot or black blood to over reacting, some folks can call the relationship up if that happens more often.

 #4. Put Yourself In Her Shoe

Reading this heading, so many people will feel some guilt inside of them.

Why?

 Because they overreacted and so, dissolve a relationship that took an understanding of 10 damm years to build. They are guilty because if they had put their shoe in their partner’s sandals, they would have understood what It means to wear a rubber sandal with robes all over (kind of shoe worn by those that nailed Jesus on the cross).

So, the next time you will be influenced by this garland, Put Yourself in Her Shoe and vice versa – if thou be a lady.

 #5. Reveal & Talk About Your Anger

It isn’t wise to pile up hate and anger against your partner. If she has done something wrong. The matter is very simple. We have a mouth, unless we don't want to.

But if you will, simply call her and settle it up. At least it is better than being influenced to dwell at the sad or bitter garland.

 GARLAND 2

Your Business/Partnership

How many have tried and failed? I mean partnering in business – two people agreeing to manage the same venture.  I am just wondering who wants to be outplayed…

While that is established, before going into business partnership with anybody, it may be wise for you two to track down your terms and conditions, benefits, percentages, profit stretches and other add-ons in front of your attorneys, signed and sealed.

This is so important because apart from making you sad, you can be sure of death if the card is played wrongly. Else, a nonstructural partnership is not what you need in 2018.

But the real deal?

Instead of having your head cut off out of jealousy or strive, it is better to start up your own business. In case you are worried of the source of startup capital. You can access how to get it now.

 GARLAND 3

Information Taken In

 In 2017, I don’t know how the information you took in affected you, but for me, an article that was so controversial in 2017 was the one that read “5 Definitive Scammy Reasons Why You Shouldn’t Believe Or Invest In Bitcoin”.

To my surprise, the article pulled up to 60+ comments. Now, this article is just one of its kind, the type of information that is a determinant of your success or failure. (Depending on your stretch of dealings).

That being said, the type of information and the sources you will get them from will insanely affect your mind. If Negative, you will be pushed act on them.

Not just that, after being received, it will weigh you down. And if it weighs you down, it will sweep your feet.

In case you are wondering if it is possible. No need because it is evident. Out of the heart, the mouth speaketh. Also, out of the piles of negative information received (not 2018 again please), the mouth will still speak, but this time with actions. 

You know, it is easy to read a News Tabloid and be negative, enraged and suddenly, you start accusing everybody and blaming the government for your misfortunes.

One thing you don’t realize sometimes is that people wake up to write rubbish and garbage. And we the “Nat Go Wild Information Adventures” will stripe it open even the more, internalize them, and become so negative and self-destructible to the next person. Please watch Out!

If you will hear me out. Most of the gossips and information you read online, they are wrong and are as false as a blackened pot. People just incubate information to become popular and you from your end internalize them and become so enraged.

Now, that influence (source of information taken in) will turn your garland from sadness, unhappiness to malice and hate. And believe me, a person of hate is capable of anything if not controlled.

As always, I will affirm. Be careful of what you ask for. The information you ask for, read because it can par or mar thee in 2018 and your garland submerged.

I can attest that reading this blog - suetanyamchorgh.com/ is great. Also Bizdynamicx.com

But if you were lost at some point,

At this point, you need these 5 Restructuring Books To Restructure Your Mind For 2018 if it had gone ablaze in 2017. The books are to be read before 20th of January. The reason is to set your mind apart for the good tidings of 2018.

 CONCLUSION

Your biggest influences in 2018 will tie to three garlands you cherish most. These garlands evidently has the power to blow your mind negatively. Imagine failing in relationship, business partnership and getting all the free garbage online. You are mostly done for!

I don’t want to talk about depression because it is not a good state. These three garlands can hand pick you and depress-matize you. And your only way out will be to ask the Attitude is Everything Guy to help you.

Okay, guys. I don’t want you to miss the spark 2018 has to offer. Squarely, this should be one of our best years. Thank God, it is not late to start out.

You decide not to be pushed around and you too can decide the opposite. The fork is in your hands to winnow the threshing floor.

Last words: don’t give your best energy to these three (3) garlands (negative portions) in 2018. You can be better off  from today.

So, gird your loins and go in this thy might because year Two Thousand And Eighteen has been pecked for your greatest year.

Act and know God is on ya side. #Success #Bizdynamicx.

About Isuamfon

Isuamfon Offiong is A Value Placed Orator, Writer at BIZDYNAMICX and a Graduate of Civil Engineering. In my community, no one is an under achiever, that’s why I write value placed posts on the Dynamicx of How-to-Productivity, Business, Crypto-finance and Income Ritual.