#kat's unnecessary rambles about her day

[katastrophic-n3vulaa]

if you want a story about 3 people with birthdays on a 6 hour bus in a couple of days and also why my science teacher is amazing then this is a story for you if you can be bothered. idk i dont care but i wanted to actually put this somewhere to remember it.

am going on school camp on the 1st. and we're all going in turns- like, classes are split into weeks into groups. im in the last one bc kayaking and biking were the least popular camps bc snow camp exists (i get it perisher is nice but i would freeze)

anYWAYS

so all of us going in the last week fit on 1 bus because there's not many. and most of my classmates are on this weeks camp, so there are... 6 of us in science&maths, 11 in history, geo, religious studies and pdh, and 5 of us in english. french doesnt exist to me i have a double tmr afternoon and im ignoring it.

anyways bc my science teacher is amazing and also kind of mean sometimes, she had told us she was bringing in a cake. a woolies mud cake- and yeah, she did we ate it in the lab today ignoring the rules.

so i arrive early and see her walking into the room and she like- lifts the woolies bag and so i go 'oh cake' and then there's this conversation and somehow we get to the fact that my laptop says it's 2am at 830 in the morning and i need to reset it and it is definitely not relating to my godawful sleep schedule. then she says 'you could be dreaming' then my other 2 classmates who were late walk in and im like 'she bought the cake' and she THEN SAID 'no its my lunch' and so i look at her like 'what.' and she laughed and then i explained why i thought it was cake and the weird time on my laptop and she said 'you could be dreaming' and then i said 'no bc if it was a dream you would have the cake' then she said 'no i have the cake' and uiweorghjkdfs

i love her but wow. i mean i cant say shit i am also a menace to friends but STILL. (after we finished the work we also had an argument about the best season and she says winter despite living in australia then we got onto how annoying it is to be cold when doing a sport then she pulled a 'BACK IN MY DAY I GOT UP AT 4AM FOR SWIMMING' and we laughed bc she isnt old- like. early 20s- and yeah i love my science teacher. summer is the best though)

OK BACK TO CAMP.

so of those of us that are going on camp, it is one of my classmates' birthday on the 30th, his friend's on the 31st and mine on the 1st, and bc the drive down to the pack site is on the first (then we split into camps & groups) and it was also my science teachers bday yesterday - the three of us w/ bdays are bringing stuff for us as if we're gonna share but no. the probably stupid amount of treats will be for only the three of us bc its a 6 hour drive. and we're very funny.

but also bc we're the last camp, everythig is due the week we get back???? so this week is speedrun finish things and oreygwhbfjdkn i hate maths criterion c assessments they kill me. so much.

anyways. some people in my classes are ass. some of them i absolutely love.

[clairenatural]

look at you, strawberry blond

destiel, 1.8k. pining, fluff, growing up together, etc! minor character/parental death, vague mention of John’s A+ Parenting. based on the mitski song  (this is a repost because the first one got deleted)

I love everybody because I love you

Castiel first learns what love is when he’s eight years old and Gabriel, sixteen, is grumbling about driving an hour out of his way to find his girlfriend the rare chocolates she likes for Valentine’s day.

“Why?” he asks his older brother, and Gabriel sighs, melodramatic as always.

“That’s love, little bro. Remembering the little things and then putting in the time to make it happen.”

Cas thinks about when he told Dean his parents don’t let him eat candy. He thinks about how Dean has given him half his Kit Kat bar every day for the last year.

He thinks about the time he scraped his knee falling off the jungle gym and Dean spent the rest of recess picking dandelions to make him feel better. Yellow is his favorite color.

“Oh.”

“You’ll understand when you’re older, Cassie. Love is about sacrifice, and commitment--” he goes on, but by the time Michael cuts him off, yelling from his office that you’ve only been dating for two months, Gabriel, stop preaching to Castiel, Cas has already sprinted up the stairs to his bedroom.

A broken piggy bank, $1.50 in pocket change, and several pleas to Gabriel later, and Castiel tucks a king-sized Kit Kat into Dean’s valentine box.

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

When you stood up, walked away, barefoot

It’s eight years later, one summer in high school, when Castiel realizes that there’s a difference between loving and being in love, and that he is, in fact, in love with his best friend.

He realizes this as he watches Dean walk away, sandals discarded and unnecessary in the soft grass, back to the picnic tables to get them both more fruit punch. It’s the annual junior class picnic, the official welcome to being upperclassmen, and the August sun casts a warm glow over Dean’s freckles, and Castiel knows.

Two seconds later, he watches Dean nearly get hit by an errant frisbee and completely forget his punch mission in lieu of playfully tackling its thrower, Benny Lafitte. He watches Lisa Braden, giggly and glowing and perfect as always, yelp as she’s almost caught in the crossfire, and Dean winks at her as he releases Benny.

He swallows thickly and turns his attention back to the patch of grass they’d been laying in, flattened where Dean had been just a few moments before. He wishes he hadn’t come to this particular realization.

And the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape I looked over it and I ached

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

I love everybody because I love you I don't need the city, and I don't need proof

Castiel goes to college in Chicago and pretends like the two-hour drive between them doesn’t mean anything. And it doesn’t, until Dean’s father gets a job back in Kansas halfway through his freshman year. Dean goes with him even though he’s an adult because the alternative is letting Sam deal with John alone, so Castiel spends most of that summer in Lawrence, dodging both his friends in the big city and his family back in Pontiac. He tells them all that he’s studying Kansas’ role in the Civil War, assisting in research back at the University, but he and Dean spend two months going on road trips with Sam.

His sophomore year John dies and Castiel flies back for the weekend, explaining his sudden departure as a family emergency and getting an extension on two papers. Dean holds his hand at the funeral but won’t look him in the eyes for two hours after, even as he refuses to leave Castiel’s side.

The boys move in with Bobby but that summer Dean shows up in Chicago, explanations lined up about not worrying about Sam anymore and wanting to see what about the city made Cas keep coming back. Castiel gets an internship and pretends like that was the plan all along. He quietly cancels his plane tickets to South Dakota.

All I need, darling, is a life in your shape I picture it, soft, and I ache

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

Reach out the car window, trying to hold the wind You tell me you love her; I give you a grin

Dean stays in Chicago. He moves into Castiel’s empty room when his original roommate moves out, he finds work at an auto shop, and he starts taking mechanic classes at a community college. Castiel isn’t sure why—he doesn’t want to ask. Afraid to look the gift horse in the mouth and risk having his happiness bitten off.

Then Dean starts talking about a girl. Then Castiel meets the girl, Cassie Robinson, and it all makes sense.  

He pretends it doesn’t sting every time Dean brings her up, that the way his face lights up doesn’t burn, that he doesn’t feel physically ill the first time he meets her.

By the time Dean tells him he’s in love, gushing about Cassie in a way eerily reminiscent of Gabriel twelve years earlier, it’s turned into a dull ache that Castiel has mostly contained in the back of his chest. They’re on their way to Cassie’s apartment, the first stop on their way to a cabin spring break of their junior year, and the ache is suddenly threatening to break through his ribcage.

But the sun is warm on his cheek, and the radio is playing a soft summer soundtrack, so Castiel allows Dean’s happiness to wash over him long enough to forget who—or, more importantly, who isn’t—causing it. He grins at his best friend before turning his gaze back out the passenger window of the Impala.

Oh all I ever wanted was a life in your shape So I follow the white lines, follow the white lines, Keep my eyes on the road as I ache

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

Look at you, strawberry blond

Dean and Cassie break up, and Dean drinks for a month, but Castiel getting into Stanford for grad school distracts him just long enough to go back to normal (a normal that does not involve thinking about how Dean nearly kissed him when they were both drunk the night he got his acceptance).

This new normal involves staring graduation in the face, and California beyond that, and moving out of his Chicago apartment somewhere in this middle, which also involves coming to terms with moving away from Dean.

Until Sam gets his own acceptance to Stanford a few months later. Then Dean starts sending him links to two-bedroom apartments, and using “we” when talking about the move, and looks just as confused as Castiel when he asks about it.

“Well, yeah. I mean, with you gone, and now Sam—You thought you were going by yourself?”

And even though Castiel vaguely thinks this is a bad idea, and living with his best friend who he’s been in love with for his entire memory had been hard enough for the two years they’d been doing it, he can’t say no. Because every time he gets up the nerve to say something Dean calls him over and shoves his laptop into Castiel’s face, talking about hiking trails and flower fields and front lawns and dogs, and that quells any doubt he had.

They move to Palo Alto, into a townhouse with a lawn and a communal garden. Dean adopts a golden retriever.

Fields rolling on, I love it when you call my name

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

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm? Watching your arm

Two months into Castiel’s first year of graduate school they have a picnic, taking advantage of the lingering warmth of the California fall. Sam is off in the field playing with Zeppelin, obviously having used the ‘come meet my brother’s dog’ excuse to invite the pretty blonde woman (Jess?) chasing the golden with him. Dean is rambling about Star Trek and Castiel is paying half attention, the majority of his focus on the reading in front of him because professors don’t consider picnics an extension-worthy excuse.

He’s just started to get invested when he hears a yelp and looks up to see Dean Winchester, his best friend, most trusted confidant and the possible love of his life, swatting a bumblebee. Cas gasps, reading forgotten, and lunges across the picnic blanket to grab Dean’s wrist. “Dean.” He chastises, and Dean gives him a look.

“It’s a bee, Cas.”

“It’s a bumblebee, which are essential—”

“To our ecosystem, yeah, but it’s pretty essential to me that it doesn’t sting me.”

“It won’t sting you if you don’t swat at it.”

“You didn’t see the look on it, man. It meant business.”

“Bees are attracted to sugar. You probably just smell good.”

Dean grins. “You calling me sweet, Cas?”

And, well, no. He isn’t. He’s talking about the empty pie tin next to Dean. But the words make him realize just how close they are, how far he’d moved into Dean’s space in his efforts to stop his hand, how the force of the movement had pushed Dean almost back onto his elbows.

He opens his mouth to respond the way he usually does to Dean’s cavalier flirting, but the words don’t leave his mouth—which is, somehow, he swears, closer to Dean’s than it was a second ago. Just as Castiel is preparing to push back, clear his throat, and add this moment onto a growing list of almost-but-not-quite moments stretching back years, Dean sucks in a breath and closes the gap.

Castiel reacts before his brain can fully comprehend what’s going on, bypassing any shock entirely and kissing Dean back immediately. He lets go of his wrist, instead bringing his hand to the side of Dean’s face, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb. Dean pushes himself back up and wraps an arm around Castiel’s waist, pulling him essentially into his lap, and then they’re kissing, and Dean smells like summer and tastes like apple pie, and Castiel suddenly understands more than ever why bees are always buzzing around him.

It feels like a lifetime until it’s over, until they’re just staring at each other and out of breath, both scared to say anything and break the magic they’d accidentally created. The silence is only broken by a shout from across the grass, followed shortly by a tennis ball that nearly misses them, followed by 65 pounds of golden retriever that does not miss them and nearly topples Castiel in his pursuit of the ball. And then Sam comes running after the dog, still shouting—apologies, this time—and then there’s Jess, laughing hysterically, and then Castiel has to scramble out of the way because Zeppelin has made a U-turn, interpreting the whole commotion as a game of keep-away.

Dean meets his eye above the chaos and grins, and the sunlight hits his dirty blonde hair, and it’s so breathtaking Castiel almost forgets to smile back.

I love it when you look my way.

[misssophiachase]

...fake dating christmas au?

This took on a life of its own and is a kind of fusion with Holidate but with my own twist - hope you like it, Nik : ) Thanks for the awesome prompt. 

No Refunds or Exchanges

Workaholic Caroline Forbes gets more than she bargained for when she receives a surprise gift on Christmas Eve from her friends. 

“I’m sorry, you did what now?” Caroline hissed, pulling her friends away, strategically ensconced behind the impressive, Christmas Tree. She was attempting some level of discretion but that pretty much ended when her Christmas ‘gift’ was unveiled. 

“You’re always so picky and difficult to shop for, Care,” Katherine argued, Bonnie by her side nodding enthusiastically. “Plus, we wanted to surprise you and given that shocked expression I think we succeeded.”

“The reason I’m shocked is because you gifted me a person. Like a real life, living, human being.”

“She called him a human being, Kat, I think that’s what they call progress,” Bonnie smiled triumphantly. 

“It was a slip. Excuse me if I’m a little distracted by your totally inappropriate gift.” she growled, sneaking a glance at him from between the green, pine needles. 

Why did he have to look so good in that woollen sweater with those lips and those curls and those damn dimples? 

“Anyway, Klaus Mikaelson is most definitely an extra terrestrial.” 

He was also closely related to her friends’ boyfriends which was not a good thing in Caroline’s book. She’d begrudgingly accepted that he’d be around every now and again but not disguised as a present at her own house on Christmas Eve. 

“You always loved ET.”

“Leave him out of this,” she shot back, eyeing Bonnie. “You don’t just go around giving people other people as gifts.”

“Drama queen much? Caroline, he’s not the gift,” Kat clarified. 

“Great because I was starting to feel slightly uncomfortable with this entire scenario.”

“It’s the services he provides.”

“Wow! Who knew Klaus Mikaelson moonlighted as a Christmas gigolo?” Caroline scoffed, wondering if they were playing a prank or she’d drunk too much of her nana’s spiked eggnog. “If they haven’t made a Hallmark movie about this yet then I’m buying the rights.”

“We are gifting him to you as your holidate,” Kat insisted, rolling her eyes for added effect.

“I’m sorry?” 

“A holidate is someone you take as your date to all holiday celebrations throughout the year,” Bonnie grinned, clearly pleased with their gift.

“We both know you have that New Year’s work function,” Kat added. “We love you, even with those workaholic tendencies, so what better way to make those witches from legal accounts jealous than to show up with some English eye candy?”

“Our gift is valid for an entire year of holiday fun,” Bonnie added.

 “Oh, and no refunds or exchanges,” Kat winked. 

“I suppose that would be difficult given I don’t have a receipt of purchase,” Caroline groaned sarcastically. “I need more eggnog to process this whole ridiculous episode.”

“I know you don’t love me, Forbes, but there’s no need to turn to alcohol addiction.” 

Speaking of English eye candy. She turned around not quite sure what she was going to say or do. 

Her friends then decided to make themselves scarce. Traitors.

“Pretty sure you should be used to driving girls to drink, Mikaelson,” she snapped. “And if this is your idea of a joke then...”

“Says the girl wearing the festive, elf hat?” He reached out and tugged playfully on the bell at the end. She was trying to focus because he smelled so good and his close proximity was making it difficult to concentrate.

She hated him.

Well, that’s what she’d been telling herself since he’d crashed into her life nine months ago, mainly thanks to her friend’s bad taste in men. 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I lost a bet to my cousin Matt,” she replied through gritted teeth. “We do it every year so as to try and avoid unnecessary, family dress-ups. I don’t get around in Christmas garb for fun.”

“Well, you wear it well, love, especially with that cell phone stuck to your ear permanently.” 

“It’s called a job and why exactly did you agree to this? Or did they spike your eggnog too?”

“Number one, I have a job too, sweetheart, go figure. But being single at the holidays is torturous at best and if I can avoid my mother’s forlorn and pitying expressions I’ll do it.  Surely you have some relatives and friends you want to shut down?”

“Maybe but, even so, I don’t like you in that way,” she blurted out. “Like, not if we were the last two people on earth and we had to procreate to save the human race.” Caroline was rambling uncontrollably, and she knew it. 

“Well, someone certainly has tickets on herself,” Klaus chuckled earning a dirty look from his newly acquired holidate. “Good to see that we are on the same page at least.”

“Exactly! No kisses at midnight, no roses on Valentine’s Day and I get full costume approval on Halloween.”

“Someone needs to read the holidate contract,” he murmured, placing the paper in her hands. 

“There’s a contract?” 

“This is a fifty-fifty partnership, love. Trust me, I insisted on that when your friends decided to draft me for this task. We can discuss all holiday particulars beforehand.” 

She was frozen, not quite sure how to react. How was he more organised than her? 

“And I hate red roses so no worries about Valentine’s Day.”

“I still don’t like you,” she grumbled before making her way toward the kitchen. “Where is the damn eggnog?”

12 months later...

“Nice elf hat” she joked, tweaking on the bell like he had all those months prior. Klaus wore it way too well, but she wasn’t all that surprised. “Matt is a swindler when it comes to bets. He’s considering a professional poker career in Vegas, so don’t feel bad”

“Given your skills, maybe you should join him then, love?” 

The Klaus she knew should have been upset by his current predicament but the lazy grin on his face was telling her something else entirely. Those creases in the corners of his eyes definitely meant something big. 

Love. 

“I’d much prefer to hang out with you and mistletoe,” she smiled, capturing his lips with hers. Caroline would never get sick of that feeling. Ever. “And anyone who can celebrate the holidays like you deserves a kiss or ten.” 

She wanted to hate her friends for their ‘i told you so’ looks and constant commentary but it didn’t seem to matter when it came to him. Even though she still detested the term she’d begrudgingly fallen in love with her holidate. 

“I’m so glad I never had a sales receipt for you.”

“There was a receipt?” He asked incredulously pulling back and breaking the spell between them. “Why do I suddenly feel like a piece of meat?”

“You should be so lucky,” Caroline teased. “But apparently I was told no returns or exchanges and for that I’ll be forever grateful.”

“I bet you say that to all the boys.”

“Only to my one and only holidate.” 

[janadoesstuffwrong]

(I know this is unnecessary, but again, my void. My ramblings)

The sad thing about kat@ang is that, had romance been left out of it, it would probably have been one of my favourite relationships of the show.

They could be so close and their love for eachother could be so pure and sweet. Shipping's fun and all, but I'm really here for the family dynamics people. If nobody got together in the end (all of them being actual children), I literally would love the show more. Sibling-esque relationships are always on a superior level to romantic ones.

A@ng (I'm using the @ because I know some A@ng lovers get a little aggy about these kind of posts and wouldn't want it to accidentally show up on their tag, this isn't A@ng hate) is so adorable and chaotic, he's like the kind of friend I wish I had in my life. Any time I read a fanfic where K/A@ don't get together, he's always so supportive and kind toward her, giving her unconditional love without expecting anything in return.

Watching the show, it would always be a case of I start loving him for the cinammon roll he is, but then the Fortune-teller or Ember Island Players would happen. Suddenly, I would be fourteen again, screaming into a cushion because a boy I was enjoying being friends with had asked me out and would stop talking to me if I said no.

And Katara! All those scenes where she's mothering him or protecting him or generally looking after the manic pixie of a boy? SIBLINGS DO THAT! I have a 5 year old brother (I'm 17) and making sure he eats and gets enough rest and is happy and safe ARE LITERALLY THINGS ME AND MY SISTERS DO EVERY SINGLE DAY!!

Yeah, I know 5 and 12 are massively different ages, but the siblingal protectiveness remains.

Were their relationship made a more loving sibling one than a weird romantic one, any scene where Katara defends A@ng or wants him to be happy all the time becomes sweet and relatable! Not the 14 year old girl making sure her less mature boyfriend is always comfortable because otherwise he'll throw a cosmic tantrum.

Sometimes, for a moment, I can imagine that the protagonist of a show I just started liking reminded me of my amazing, bonkers little brother, rather than that my weird ex-boyfriend.

It would also be refreshing to have a found family show focus on finding family rather than getting a date for once!

[ssr-moonlore]

In Depth Profile of Gretz

This is going to go VERY deep and very much into Main Story Quest Spoiler Territory so I’m gonna put the unnecessary stuff under a read more.

Full name: Unknown, She hasn’t given out that information. Race: Erune, techincally a Revenant. Elemental Attunement: Water Occupation: Captain of the Grandcypher, Mage, but can probably beat most people in a sword fight. Charge Attack names: Originally “Lainetav Meri” then becomes “Vaikne Ookean” Parents: Both parents are Erune, Father is from Zinkenstill, Mother from Lumacie. Mother died at giving birth, father is currently in Estalucia. Siblings: Twin sister, deceased.

Aaaand the rest can go into a Read More because this is where things go very detailed and I’m not gonna clog the tag with my ramblings! This is basically her backstory, and parts of the MSQ retold to fit Gretz

I’m gonna warn you all now that this is a brainfart and probably badly written because there’s like... facts and story and it’s all written like a mess, but hopefully explains enough.

So... I suppose the story should start from the beginning. Gretz’s father was an incredible mage and the leader of his own skyfarer crew, and he started young, younger than Gretz when she began her journey. Somewhere along the way, Gretz’s father met Margrite, a rather plain Erune woman from Lumacie. The two fell in love but her father kept the relationship a secret. Before long, Margrite found out she was pregnant, and out of the blue, Gretz’s father disbanded his crew and hid with Margrite and wanted to simply start a family with her.

Things went horribly wrong, however, when both Margrite and one of the twins perished during birth. The circumstances were strange, they simply started failing, and even though Gretz’s father was very well versed with healing magic, to the point where he could bring someone back from the bring and regrow their limbs... his magic didn’t catch. Nothing he, or any of the other healers did could save Gretz’s mother or twin. Margrite’s soul was beyond saving, but a little sliver of the dead twin’s essence was still there, and the father managed to grab onto it. 

Gretz’s father stayed with Margrite’s family for a while, until his guilt got overbearing, and he decided to go back home, to his mother’s home. Things were quite relaxed for many years, Gretz grew up strong, and wasn’t really bothered by the fact that she didn’t have a mother. Her dad never mentioned the twin.

He taught her magic, and passed down his ability to cast magic without any arcane instruments, but instructed Gretz to never show that ability to anyone. She never truly understood why this type of magic had to be kept secret, but she played along.

When she was 8, her father’s crew had tracked him down, and much to his dismay, they were incredibly angry and wanted him to get back into skyfaring. Gretz was instructed to hide, her presence was to be kept a secret from the crew, who would otherwise want her to join was well, given that she was HIS daughter, and probably inherited his powers. So Gretz hid. She hid until her grandmother came to fetch her and Vyrn, and so Gretz was left without her father. The little girl was left grief stricken, being only told that she will find something very important when she was ready. 

So she stayed there on Zinkenstill until at the age of 21, she saw the girl with the blue hair falling from the sky, and her fate was sealed. She valiantly defended this strange girl, only to be struck down by a hydra. In the process her soul tied with Lyria’s, but another entity was brought into the mix. A terrifying fighter spirit with an opposing power to Gretz’s, the ability to void magic utterly. Gretz would not find out about this other spirit until much later, when stakes would grow bigger and lives were endangered more, but until then, she, Vyrn, Lyria and Kat went on to create a skyfarer crew. 

Most of the story follows the main story quest, bar for a few differences, most notably, when Not Gretz appears. She’d appear any time when Lyria would be sure to get hurt, other times when things seem hopeless for Gretz. Her body remained the same but the aura surrounding the Erune was different, cold, devoid of joy. Her mannerism was harsh, sarcastic, almost evil. Most of the time, the crew would spare any people who got in their way, opting to convince them to take a better walk of life, but not this person. With impossible precision and immense power and speed, a jagged spear would cut down all who dared to harm the Red Dragon or the Girl in Blue, or even the vessel herself. These “possessions” were short, but left Gretz a mess for several days. The scar on her stomach that almost ripped her in half that would never fade no matter how hard she tried to get rid of it would tear open, crippling her. They would all inevitably heal, but it seemed that whatever shared Gretz’s body had a vendetta against her and wanted to make it obvious to everyone. 

As the crew land on Lumacie, they take on a job to clear out an old cemetery that’d been overrun, and Gretz comes across a very familiar name. That leads to her getting a little hint to her other grandparents, and she tracks them down. The old pair receive her warmly, shocked at how much she looks like her father but having her mother’s eyes, never saying anything bad about her father and that her mother’s death was just an unfortunate situation but wasn’t anyone’s fault. Gretz then keeps regular correspondence with her mother’s parents, and is happy to have found more family.

The next most important event happens after the crew flees Lumacie following their defeat at the hands of a corrupted Yggdrasil. They go to Zinkenstill, where they find that Gretz’s paternal grandmother had passed, leaving her shaken to the core. The crew presses on though, determined to save the islands from the Empire. At the shrine, Vyrn falters, prompting Sturm to raise her weapons at him, only to be swiftly swatted to the side violently by a powerful black spear. Not Gretz takes on the agent duo, her antimagic nature completely cripping Drang and pinning Sturm against a tree with her own swords, though not killing them outright, as “it would interfere with The Other too much.”  Before having the shit utterly beaten out of him, Drang did manage to find out who the spirit was, though only cryptically being told that she was “the one who never made it.”

The assault was cut short as Furias’ invasion of the island was deemed far more interesting a fight for the entity. The invasion didn’t last, and soon everyone would return to the ship for a rest, Not Gretz relinquishing control of the body back to Gretz just so she could see the injured Drang and Sturm drag themselves back onto the ship. Needless to say, Gretz, feeling like a monster, attempted to hide from shame, only to pass out from her stomach being ripped open again.

The healers all scrambled to get her back whole again, and no major injuries except for Gretz’s pride. The following morning, before the sun would crest the mountains, she managed to drag herself out of her bedroom, and tip toed off the ship, silently, not telling anyone. Vyrn, however, seemed to know something was off and found her, weeping at her grandmother’s grave, and suggested that the two go and do a favourite early morning passtime of theirs. The two quietly went onto a hill, and Gretz began to call out. Her voice sorrowful, but the echo in the mountains beautiful, and after a moment they’d hear the typical clanging of cow bells as the herd ran over to inspect the calls.

The two of them were followed by another pair. By Drang’s suggestion, he and Sturm followed the captain to see what she’d do, ghosting around like that, all mysterious. It didn’t take long for Gretz to notice, and in her weakened state, she became petrified and convinced the two would want revenge. A little slip on the wet dewy grass left her tumbling off a steep hill and straight into a fencepost and she felt a bit too weak and in pain to do anything so she simply curled up and started to weep. Drang and Sturm, both taken aback at this display of vulnerability rush up to her and Drang offers a little healing to close up the cut on her forehead, Sturm simply propping her up. Gretz, confused and scared simply starts rambling about how she thought they’d kill her. The agents shook their heads and deny that being their goal, though Drang wants to know more about the entity in her. 

Upon hearing the phrase that the entity is the one who “didn’t make it” Gretz realized that the entity could be none other than her deceased twin, though she then became even more confused as to how her twin who died at birth would have those abilities. One question answered, 10 more now taking it’s place. 

After cleaning herself up a bit, Gretz spots a strange glint in the distance, in the middle of the field. Squinting at it, she spots a familiar relic, her father’s staff. Though weak, and hurting, and confused, her legs simply begin to move and she recovers the staff. The stone in the middle shining just as bright at she remembered it. 

The 4 return to the ship, where the rest of the crew is restless and panicking looking for their captain. Relieved to find her unharmed, the crew quiets down, though Gretz now has a new resolve to go and save Yggdrasil, so after Vyrn releases whatever the hell was in the shrine, the crew goes to face the menace. 

During that fight, it seems quite hopeless but Gretz manages to unleash magic to a crazy amount. Her innate spellcasting meant that she didn’t need tools to cast magic, but she remembers that she can siphon magic in from other sources than just herself. After basically destroying several staves and tools by sucking out all the magic and basically almost turning herself into a being of pure mana, she manages to get a hit strong enough to defeat Yggdrasil, but then immediately gets slammed full force into a rock cliff by one of the snake tentacles. Her spell took away all noise in the area and the sickening crack of her body hitting the rock face was more than enough to make the whole crew imagine the worst. 

Luckily, being made of pure magic meant that in that state her body was basically unable to die from injuries, though she immediately requested help to fix her numerous broken bones. Lyria was NOT allowed to see the body. Everyone else still has nightmares.

After that... The crew follows the main story aside from a few minor differences, but Gretz accepts the whole “Singularity” business pretty well but then realizes that she really DID cause the deaths of her mother and sister.  Lyria manages to pacify the spirit, and Emmeliine is given an official position in the crew, and Gretz no longer gets torn up every time a possession takes place. The crew are looking into getting a golem made for Emmeliine so she and gretz can exist in the physical realm at the same time. Em is still very spicy and mean, but no longer AS murderous. She’s still able to beat the shit out of the crew.

I hope??? These ramblings make sense?? I wanted to make a comic of this but my hand  hurts and in fic format it’d take too long.

Yes my self-insert is a fucking Mary Sue with Deep Issues and a Dead Twin Ghost Spirit whatcha gonna do about it.

[callmedrviper]

Okay, I know this is all my headcanons and me being an idiot and reading too much into a kids cartoon, but has anyone else ever thought about how terrible it would be to live in the Swat Kats’ society? Here’s just a couple of examples:

The corruption and nepotism rampant in the Enforcers. Everyone knows about the whole origin story of the Swat Kats and what Feral did to save his own tail, but lieutenant Steele is so incredibly incompetent that there’s no way he could have made the lieutenant rank on his own merit. Then there’s Felina, the only female officer EVER shown on the show. While the real reason is probably early 90s sexism in cartoons, the fact that she is the only female and just happens to be Feral’s niece also helps highlight the benefit of family ties within the Enforcers’ ranks. (Never mind the fact Feral BASICALLY ADMITS THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT’S HAPPENING AND WHY HE CAN’T THROW HER OFF THE FORCE EVEN THOUGH HE RECOGNIZES HE SHOULD.) She’s most definitely not the first Kat to benefit from this kind of nepotism if logic follows.

The fact that the Enforcers seem to be completely unchecked in their operations and can get away with using deadly force no matter what the situation is. As much as Feral likes to complain about the damage the Swat Kats do, it certainly doesn’t stop him or other Enforcers from using heavy, military grade weapons within city limits putting civilians in the line of fire. Heck, the fact that the Swat Kats exist helps prove how unregulated they are. Had an independent investigation or if Jake and Chance had sued the Enforcers for what happened, they might have been cleared or at least not have been forced into poverty like they were. If the Enforcers were regulated more tightly, then the first example I gave above might not have even been a problem to begin with.

Treatment of the mentally ill and citizens convicted of crimes is DEPLORABLE. Just look at Mad Kat’s introduction, or more accurately Mad Kat’s host’s introduction. Ringtail was being kept in an insane asylum (an institution that no longer exists in our ‘world’ thank goodness) because he ‘went mad’ after a new comedian took his place. And what does the guard who’s supposed to be keeping an eye on him do? That’s right, he WATCHES THE COMEDIAN WHO REPLACED RINGTAIL RIGHT OUTSIDE RINGTAIL’S CELL EVEN THOUGH RINGTAIL BEGS HIM TO TURN IT OFF! Ringtail is literally trying to hurt himself in his cell because he can’t stand to be reminded of why he’s there in the first place. And not only does the guard not turn it off, he MOCKS Ringtail for getting so worked up about it! This treatment of the mentally ill is what got those kinds of facilities shut down in the real world and many survivors are still living with the damage from the abuse to this day. Then there’s anyone who’s been convicted of a crime in MegaKat city. It’s very obvious that this world has strict, black-and-white views on ‘good’ and ‘bad’. And if you fall even slightly in the ‘bad’ category, you might as well kiss your dignity and any hope of fair treatment goodbye. Look at the conditions at the maximum security prison Rex Shard was at before the whole crystal thing. They fully admit in the episode that the prison is getting it’s funding from prisoners mining gems from the surrounding mountains. And while they say ‘volunteer’, the fact that the warden is actually taking the money made on the gems left over from paying basic prison expenses for himself and not for improving conditions within the prison or helping the prisoners really gives me the impression it’s much less ‘volunteer’ than forced labor. And no one other than Callie questions this for one second. Also, the warden does say ‘the prisoners’ and not ‘the volunteers’ so it sounds more like he’s forcing at least a majority of them to participate in this. THEN they even reveal in the next sentence that the warden is actually using a prisoner to test out a piece of equipment that is brand new and no one knows how safe it actually is in the mine right then and there. (Greenbox never once actually answers Callie or Manx on whether or not his machine was safe. He just skirted the issue by saying it was ‘real simple to use’.) So we have a someone convicted of a crime being used for basically intense, manual, slave labor now given a potentially dangerous device and sent into a freaking MINE- one of the most dangerous places for someone to be-, and really? NO ONE CARES. Not even Callie! She’s ready to leave and seems to have already put the whole thing behind her the next scene we see her in. No one cares that this warden is risking citizens lives and health, just because they were convicted of a crime and serving their time.

There doesn’t seem to be a union or worker’s rights or even occupational safety regulations for the more ‘blue collar’ industries. I have two reasons for saying this. First is actually the fact that Jake and Chance constantly have to put up with Burke and Murphy dumping HEAVY SCRAP METAL AND SPARE CAR AND OTHER VEHICLE PARTS RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE GARAGE. This doesn’t seem like much, but hear me out. Jake and Chance not only run the salvage yard, but they also are car and vehicle mechanics and work within the garage using a variety of hazardous chemicals (oils, battery fluids, paints, etc.) plus welding and other power tools. If something like a fire or a violate chemical reaction were to occur in the garage, they would need an exit from the building and not one that takes them the long way around and delays their escape. The area immediately outside the garage should be clear BECAUSE of these hazards and need for an escape. Also, that pile of metal could disrupt air flow and ventilation depending on where it is that day and could cause a build of hazardous fumes and or vapors within the garage depending on what’s being done. See what I mean? If there was a worker’s union or occupational safety regulations, Jake and Chance could report this behavior and have it stopped or Burke and Murphy fined or even fired. But it keeps happening throughout the show. The second example is the mining industry displayed in Caverns of Horror. The miners had to call in the Enforcers-the freaking military!- just to get something done about the fact MINERS WERE DISAPPEARING WHILE THEY WERE WORKING! Once again, a union or worker’s rights or safety regulations would have made this largely unnecessary as they would have more power to stop the operation and get an investigation into the safety of the mine before resuming work. But they couldn’t do that, and they even risked their jobs just because they weren’t going to continue work in a mine they felt unsafe in. All of this signals to me that working citizens really don’t have a lot of protections in this society.

We never really see issues like homelessness or poverty within the city being addressed. This is a little more just me nitpicking, but almost every program or project Manx directs the city’s funding towards are ones that benefit more of the middle or upper classes of the city (the ones who can afford to spend money at museums or spend the money on public transportation, or large corporations that would then ‘give back’ by renting the property), or benefit other areas which do need the funding but don’t directly affect someone’s life (scientific research, military weapons research, etc.). There are some that in theory could help bring jobs into the city, but even these are rare and seem more focused on a specific demographic that isn’t the homeless or ‘uneducated’ citizens. Again, this is more me nitpicking given it is a kids’ cartoon and that kind of stuff isn’t very interesting, but...eh.

The whole environmental issues I mentioned before. This world just does not seem like a great place to live to me. It’s either all developed or barren with very few natural environments left. Plus, the chemical pollution that even the society I’m rambling about recognizes as a problem. (How is cancer not a common thing in this world? Or maybe it is and we just never hear about it...)

Those are just a couple of examples I could think of.

[rudimentaryrecollections]

Glasgow 01 – 05 July 2017

My things are dry. My feet rested. I go downstairs for breakfast. It is the best I’ve had this trip. Full English with black pudding, which I find I like. The bread is fried in butter. It is large with a lot of coffee. The perfect thing to restore me further.

I walk to the city centre and buy a groundsheet for a pound at Poundland, and dubin wax to reproof my boots. I also buy croc sandals, my boots are too heavy and painful for my feet now. I would take them to a doctor, but it appears there are none open on Saturday.

I catch the train to Glasgow. The city centre is nice, the standard affair of large old buildings and pleasant streets. I get rained on heavily and then the sky is nothing but sunshine. Welcome to Scotland.

And in my time here I discover Glasgow to be a bit rough around the edges. The city centre is nice, but it’s surrounds are still recovering from post-industrialisation. I see many taverns with no windows, derelict buildings, people tripping out (on drugs) and beggars in what appear to be nice suburbs close to the city centre. It appears that they are using street art, music and other culture to help rejuvenate the city, and there are many nice murals to be discovered which lively up their surroundings. Aye, it is being gentrified.

I walk the streets towards my Couchsurfer host’s house, which is about 20 minutes from the centre without getting lost.

To my surprise there is a male Tasmanian there too, Dom. This catches me off guard, but I am quick to adjust. At first I think he is her partner or housemate. But soon I learn he is also a Couchsurfer. He is younger than me, only 20. I give Eliza a bottle of wine for hosting me. She is in her thirties, so I wonder what wisdom she may have.

She feeds me soup and hurries me along, we have somewhere to be by 7. We follow the river Clyde to our destination, chatting along the way.

They seem a bit clicky, as Dom keeps talking about things that happened on their big night out yesterday. He reminds her of the unnecessary tequila shots they had at a nightclub, and questioned if he owed her anything for the drinks last night, which she dismisses. I be myself, and quietly acknowledge their chat, then take what opportunities I can to learn about each of them.

We go to a planetarium, and enjoy a dome show, travelling through the universe learning about stars, planets, constellations and spacecraft.

After we walk back and have some drinks. Eliza is tired from the night before, but Dom is in the mood to celebrate, as today marks one year since he left Australia.

He talks a lot, and seems to enjoy being the centre of attention. I generally like people who talk a lot, since I am quiet myself. However that can depend on the quality of the words. He enjoys telling me what I should do in my travels or how I could have done certain things better. I try to get to know Eliza. She is quiet like me and is not one to talk over someone else.

We go to a bar briefly and I do not let Eliza pay for any drinks, seeing as though she paid for the Planetarium. When Dom goes to the bathroom she talks to me quite freely, about her son in Poland, and how she was on MDMA the night before without Dom knowing. She did not remember getting home the night before, which raises an eyebrow from me.

We return to the flat after Dom’s round. Eliza puts on some candles and fairylights and the ambience is nice.

She cooks me a fillet of Quorn – a vegan chicken breast made from mushroom proteins. It is nice. Dom appears to get jealous of her niceties towards me, after she tells him his vodka tonic mix is too strong. He says, “What’s the matter, we were getting along just fine until Bluey here showed up!?” She ignores him, what other response could he have hoped to illicit?

It is not the first time he has called me Bluey that evening, which irritates me. Words won’t harm me, but when he says it there is venom in his tone. Dom has been in control of the music. He asks me if there is anything I would like to put on. I say the music is fine. Eventually he insists. I queue a track. It starts to play. It does not make it halfway through before he changes it.

When Eliza goes to the bathroom Dom talks quite openly to me about how Eliza turns into another person when she drinks, how she was grinding him on the dancefloor last night. I do not know why he tells me this. I smirk in my mind, thinking that alcohol and MDMA will make a person more feely. But outwardly I tell him that she did not remember getting home the night before, so she may not remember that either.

When it hits midnight it marks Dom’s anniversary of being overseas, and he has an emotional spiel. He takes selfies with us and we have tequila shots. The drinking continues into the wee hours and Dom is the first to retire, to the spare bedroom.

I am drunk. Eliza is too. She stacks the dishwasher, and now I am the one to drunkenly ramble. It would seem whoever is youngest in this home has the most to say. I express I would like to get to know her more personally. She expresses she is tired and it’s best to sleep.

I bid her good night and pass out on the couch. I get up at midday and tidy up. Eliza is up and bids me good morning. She does not remember the end of last night, which concerns her. No wonder, with two strange males in the house. My memory is hazy, but I tell her I recollect her putting the dishwasher on, before she went to bed, and I went to couch. She is relieved. She asks what I want to do today. I ask for suggestions. She suggests taking a train to Loch Lomond, a national park nearby. I say it sounds delightful.

Dom is up now. Today he was to go to Edinburgh. I assumed he would leave when he got up. But when he hears our plans he decides to take part. I am not thrilled by this. But like any time, I resolve to make the most of my situation.

My hangover has me anxious. My social batteries have already been worn down. My ability to take the initiative in situations has somewhat disappeared. I think I should organise breakfast, but before I know it Eliza has gone to the shops and comes back. She cooks a feast with Dom. They must think I am vegetarian, as they do not give me haggis. Dom does not like it, so I eat it. It is nice, a peppery liver flavour. For all it is made out to be an acquired taste, I quite like it.  

We catch the train to Balloch, which takes a little under an hour. Eliza and I sit exhausted. Dom sits and prattles away. Sometimes he says things that he has said the hour before. When Eliza yawns he says, “You need coffee.” Or “There is only one cure for a hangover, more vodka!” She yawns more than once during the day. He offers for us to put our jackets in his backpack. We both decline, we both have arms to hang them from, from where it is easier to put them on if we’re caught in a shower.

I tire of him, and long for the quiet of the trail. I practice mindfulness, and dismiss some of his comments with what I like to call conversation enders - ‘True,’ being my personal favourite.

We get cheap coffee at Balloch. It is strong and picks me back up. I am more talkative and humour Dom’s talking points. Loch Lomond is beautiful. Lakes and forest stretch as far as the eyes can see. Gentle drizzle rains down. We lap around some trails for a while then catch the train back. Dom insists on gifting me his lighter for my camping. Later he complains that I took it from him. I offer it back, and he murmurs that he can’t take it on the plane anyway.

As we walk back from the train Dom asks if he can stay for another night, as it is now quite late in the afternoon. Eliza politely inclines. He thanks her and says he will cook dinner.

I knew such a thing would happen. He offers me Eliza’s sons bedroom. I decline as I was comfortable on the couch. Back in the flat, I throw myself onto the catch and sigh. Alcohol withdrawal still affects me. I enjoy the quiet for three seconds before Dom follows me and says, “I know how you feel.” If he did he wouldn’t be talking. He asks me if I want the bedroom again. I decline as all my stuff is in this room.

Eliza suggests we watch a movie. The best suggestion. Movies provide noise, so extroverts don’t feel the need to chatter. Dom goes to the shops and cooks dinner while I show Eliza some Andrew Ucles videos. After dinner I put on Hunt for the Wilderpeople, which we all greatly enjoy, then Chef. Eliza goes to bed before Chef is over.

When it is over, Dom asks me for the third time if I want to sleep in the bed instead of the couch. I answer again that really it is fine, I sleep well on the couch. Having asked so many times, he seems to want his way with this. But I will be the first to rise out of us two, and I do not wish to tip toe around the living room in the morning.

Eliza has gone to work cleaning when I arise, and I make a strong coffee. I drink it and wander north along the Clyde. I am anxious still. I have no idea why I feel I have done something wrong, and make up reasons in my head. I practice mindfulness. Listen to the gulls, and see them float in the sky.

I remind myself of my characteristic introversion, and how it is nothing to feel ashamed of. I just needed space, time alone, to recharge my social batteries. Or some alcoholic juice. I always wanted to get really drunk in Glasgow, perhaps inspired by Irvine Welsh characters, and today will be the day. I buy a small bottle of rum and finish it before returning to Eliza’s to grab my bag.

She is on break from work. We eat lunch from our own food supplies together. Dom has left. Again I am now the one to chatter. I talk with her about her life, and what she has coming up. She will study Chemistry at university, which I encourage. She seems solemn, and I almost sense sadness that her house will be quiet again. Or perhaps I am mistaken in my intoxication, and really she is just tired. When it comes time to leave we hug twice and she asks me to send her photos. I know I will stay in Glasgow for at least another night, but I do not wish to impose on her. So I depart.

I am happy, my anxiety vanished in this last interaction.

My Couchsurfing experience complete, I set foot towards the centre of Glasgow. I drink beer on the street. Then in a pub as I charge my phone. I speak to Spanish travellers. I have no plans. I book a hostel near the Necropolis, a large graveyard on a hill. I wander through it. It is a sunny, beautiful day.

After being subject to chit-chat as relentless as the Northumberland drizzle for two days I appreciated being alone. Sitting in the sun alone. Reading a book alone. Watching the river Clyde alone. Drinking in the park alone. Alone but not lonely. Otherwise known as solitude. A valuable thing, as a dear friend once expressed to me. Aye my friend, solitude is bliss.

When I get to the hostel I pass out for a while in my bed. I awake still a bit drunk, and go to get some food. The hostel is called Tartan lodge. The walls are plain, except on some there are canvases coated in tartan cloth on the wall. It is not my idea of art, but better than nothing I suppose. I sleep easy. In the morning I am hungover.

I do not know where my room key is. I do not know if I paid a deposit for it. I am anxious again. I pay for my oblivious blitheness the day before with dehydration this morning. I panic about the key. I do not want to lose a deposit or pay a fee. There is one at reception on the desk. I sneakily take it and hand it in as I checkout. There was no deposit. Just a fee for losing one.

I laugh at the panic I felt before the key, and congratulate myself on my sleight of hand.

“Let’s not get drunk like yesterday on our own any more,” I agree with myself.

The day is grim, and I am aimless. I find a library and try to catch up on journal entries. The librarian gives me an hour PC code. I get through my York entry, and halfway through my Newcastle entry. It takes me a long time to write these. I assure myself that it will get easier, more succinct the more practiced I am. It is a good writing exercise, and if I keep it up I will see improvement. It is the last time I find myself doing a journal entry for three weeks.

I wander through Glasgow again. I go into the museum of Religious Life. It is more interesting than it sounds. The artworks are very inspired, and the beliefs and stories of Gods outside of Christianity are fascinating. Across the road is the oldest house in Glasgow, another museum. I walk through it and tire. After buying tinea foot powder, I look up the nearest hostel and head towards it.

Hot tub hostel, known for it’s hot tub. The receptionist tells me people bang in it. If I want to use it, I will need a staff member to turn it on. It takes an hour to heat up, and the rule is you must shower before using it. Sounds like a breeding ground for micro-organisms that would love the broken skin on my feet. I tell her I’m looking forward to a quiet night in, no hot tubs necessary.