#mostly i just pay other people to draw her because the plants take so long...

[fischlich]

Of all the replikas (including your OCs) what's your favorite?

oc wise easily planty ara it isnt even a contest

she delights me immensely. as for replika model wise i like ara the most but character wise falke is my favorite i love girls with something terribly wrong with them

[elcor-thespian]

The rule is for every hour I clean my house, I can spend one hour yapping about my digital children. SO:

I'm doing Rook and partner questions for each of my Rooks. One question at a time.

6) What are their favorite things to do together? Do they share any hobbies? Do they teach each other their hobbies?

Here are the couples:

Nephele Mercar (human rogue) - Lucanis

Nasreen Aldwir (elf mage) - Emmrich

Aleksei Laidir (elf rogue) - Bellara

Brenna Thorne (human warrior) - Davrin

Elspeth de Riva (dwarf warrior) - Harding

Konstantin Ingellvar (Qunari warrior) - Neve

Paloma (Qunari mage) - Taash

Nephele and Lucanis both cook, although she doesn't let him know that until they are officially together. Nephele is from Rivain and her cooking style reflects that, so they spend a lot of time experimenting in the kitchen together showing each other different recipes and techniques. Nephele has never been a good baker however, so Lucanis is trying to help her get better (it's not going well). But Nephele also sews, and she's trying to teach him and that's not going well either. She get's bored when trying to learn to knit and it doesn't make sense anyway because they live in Antiva WHEN are they going to wear all of these scarves and sweaters. Lucanis points out that she doesn't need to make her own clothes anymore either because they can pay someone to do it.

Nasreen because a rabid reader when she meets Emmrich. She's never felt one way or the other about reading, she just hasn't had consistent access to books. But she starts burning through his library and WHAT DO YOU MEAN that this isn't your full library? There's more?? As she's reading she's coming to him with questions which turn into long conversations and eventually (as she learns more) debates. What do you mean debating isn't a hobby? It is if you're doing it right. Also they both have an interest in plants, although Emmrich prefers flowers and she prefers poisonous and carnivorous plants. Nasreen also plays guitar and sings. Emmrich doesn't have any musical ability but he loves listening to her.

Aleksei is functionally illiterate which initially made him feel pretty out of his depth with Bellara. But he's not a quitter so he used it as a way to get closer to her and now they're working on hie reading and writing by writing stories together. He is however, naturally gifted in alchemy and chemistry, which is a fancy way of saying he can make shit that explodes. He also tinkers around with mechanical things. How did you think we got the gun for the Saboteur specialization? Bellara and Aleksei's first date.

Brenna and Davrin are that annoying ass couple that work out together and hike. I mean good for them. Just can't relate.

NEVER forget that Lace Harding was an official member of the Sing-quisition. NEVER. Can Elspeth sing? Not in the slightest. NEITHER of these idiots can cook, so most of the time they go out to eat and try new food in whatever city they've ended up in. Elspeth is really in to wine hand has a share in the Dellamorte Vineyards post-Veilguard (Lucanis was like, of sick, you want to take some of this responsibility off of me? Done.). She's not good at gardening (they are fighting for their life trying to keep a single succulent alive, so Lace helps with that aspect.

Konstantin is a talented charcoal artist and poet, but he absolutely does not share this. Neve finds out eventually, and shows him her doodles in her notes (you know the ones). Once he is officially assisting her detective work (He is her Watson and is THRILLED about it), he does composite drawings of suspects, sketches of crime scenes, etc. He also does a lot of reading (mostly history), and will read to Neve to help her relax.

Paloma and Taash is hard because they really are opposite people and I haven't played through the romance yet, and Paloma is the character I've played the least. Paloma and Taash do meditate together (for different reasons and with different results). I think Paloma does also get into the dragon stuff. I think it would be really hard to date Taash and not be in to dragons.

[thatoneguy56fanfic]

Kuvira for character head canons ask!

2-4 songs that are probably on their iPod. Oh, that’s a tough one 🤔

Monster by Skillet

I Am Machine by Three Days Grace

Who I Am by Citizen Soldier

Make It Stop by Rise Against

The one place they sometimes end up falling asleep.

Kuvira can sleep pretty much anywhere. The benefits of being in the military and having lived on the streets as a kid. Though she occasionally falls asleep at her desk, because she’s overworked herself, again. A place she isn’t supposed to would probably be the one time she nodded off during a meeting with the Zaofu City Council.

The game that they’d destroy everyone else at.

Honestly, I think Kuvira is not-so-secretly excellent at pai sho. Suyin showed it to her to help her learn how to quiet her mind and to get a better understanding of strategy. Kuvira has proudly beaten the other Beifong kids multiple times, and is always looking for a new opponent to test herself against. She played Hiroshi once, and is still pretty impressed by how quickly he beat her.

The emoticon they’d use most often.

A smirk, definitely. And an eyebrow raise.

What they act like when they haven’t had enough sleep.

Kuvira doesn’t necessarily get mean or grumpy. She gets distant. She only gives short responses to questions, if she notices that someone is talking to her at all. Eventually she’ll end up nodding off. Though she’s usually very disciplined at keeping a good sleep schedule.

Their preferred hot beverage on really cold nights. Or mornings. Or whenever.

In the morning, it’s always coffee. Black. No cream, no sugar. Freshly ground every time. At night, it would be hot chocolate, especially on cold nights. Made with milk, not water, and with the little marshmallows because she thinks they’re cute.

How they like to comfort/care for themselves when they’re in a slump.

Kuvira struggles with self care, and she fully admits it. She tends to take on more responsibilities than she can manage on her own, and turns down help. But she’s been trying to get better at caring for herself. She’s found that sitting down with a good book is an effective way to “shut off her mind” as she calls it. And she’s working on talking about what she’s feeling more, instead of bottling it all up like she used to.

What they wanted to be when they grew up.

That’s a hard one. When she was younger, she just wanted to be someone who her parents wanted. But after she joined the Beifongs, she briefly had a dream of joining the circus like Suyin did. Her act would’ve been a badger-mole tamer.

Their favorite kind of weather.

Storms. She absolutely loves storms. As a kid, she’d listen to them all night long, and she still does as an adult. There’s just something about them that she finds peaceful.

Thoughts on their singing voice.

She’s terrible at it and she knows it. She’s fairly certain that her singing can make ears bleed.

How/what do they like to draw.

Kuvira is actually a decent artist. She just doesn’t show it off very often. Huan eventually gets her into painting too. She mostly likes drawing nature: plants, animals, scenery. She’s not very good at people yet, but she’s trying.

Thanks for the ask!

[kim-poce]

8. Catnip: The End

Sorry for the long gap.

Previous

Masterlist

CW: tiny whumpee, comfort, happy end.

=-=

Time passed. A long time in which, although many things happened, none of them was bad. Nepeta has a job now, both an in-cluster one; helping to maintain the beehive. And an out-cluster one; drawing plant illustrations on herbology books.

He was mostly used to Cindy now, he actually liked her. He knew for a fact that she wouldn't hurt him. He still, sometimes, feels like she’ll, but she said that it’s okay to take his time to relearn that. 

That place was, he found out, not Cindy’s actual house. She spends a lot of time there, and there is rarely a day where she doesn’t pay a visit, but she lives elsewhere; Calen said it was so they would be more comfortable, and while it felt so ungrateful of him to be relieved that his giant benefactor wasn’t around all the time he still was.

Sometimes when they are having a party day, and everyone is smiling and chattering, flash of his last day with Lix back, while the whole time with her was a blur, he remembered very well the way Cindy yelled at her. It’s odd, at first knowing she could get that angry was frightening, now it feels like he has someone strong to lean on.

“Hello, Nepeta, can you come with me?” Cindy asked, walking inside the room.

He nodded, dropping down his pencil. He didn't need to be talked into calming down at her presence anymore, so even though he was all alone with her he still allowed her to pick him up and walk towards the living room.

“I have good news today,” she said with a smile, and he flinched just a little bit at the sharp teeth in her mouth. 

“n-news?” he asked. “What kind of news?”

They arrived in the living room, so Nepeta waited to be put down on the table where the others were before listening to the news.

“Remember when I tracked down the people who captured you and got them arrested?” she asked, and he nodded uncomfortably, “The other victims were housed elsewhere, and they have been helping us to track down the ones that were sold. I looked for every clue, and I didn’t find any other catnip fairy in their register;”

“Are you sure?” Nepeta asked, his heart was beating fast; he has been worried about his family since he was captured. “Are you sure they didn’t find the others? My my family and and the other they aren’t they didn’t they-”

“They weren’t captured, yes, these guys had well-kept registers, albeit in codes so it took a long time to decipher. They would have noted their capture down. There is one more thing.”

Nepeta shallow hard, “W-what?”

“I have many fairies friends of mine, some of which work with me and the others,” she must have noticed that he was growing nervous so she summed up. “In short, we may have found your family. It was hard since you don’t know where they are but- Hey, hey don’t cry.”

“Come here,” Tinar called, wrapping him into a hug that soon attracted all the other fairies into a big comfy ball.

“Sorry,” Cindy said in a low voice, crouching down near the table, “Sorry I made you cry. We aren’t sure if it’s them yet, but even if they aren’t we’ll find them one day. Don’t cry, please.”

“No, not that” Nepeta cried out, relieved, the others hugged him even closer as he let the tears stream down again, “T-thank you, thank you, I-” was so worried, I- If they were found because of me, if they were captured, if they had died because I- “T-they are are safe.”

“Yes, they are safe,” Cindy nodded and smiled.

“Easy there,” Calen said, drawing circles on Nepeta’s back, “Cindy will look for them, she is very good at it, until then you will be here with us.”

Nepeta nodded, he would go back home, he would see his family and friends again, he could barely wait for it. He wanted to be in peace and be happy with them again, he would also —he felt it— be happy with this new family too, it was the first time in a long while that he was sure he would be happy, that glancing at the future felt bright and happy.

“I-I love you all,” he admitted, sobbing too much to speak right after as everyone said how much they loved him back.

“I think that deserves a picnic,” Cindy smiled, “Let’s go cook ourselves something tasty.”

=-=

Taglist: @kathea, @theadorelocksly, @wolfeyedwitch, @whumpsday, @extemporary-username

[notsogoodangel]

Finally done: Children of Dead AU AKA an SBI Royal/Antarctic Empire AU which actually includes both Fundy and Kristin. More info under the cut

also ignore typos in the drawing, I did the text at like 2 am

The Antarctic Empire seemed to pop out of nowhere, and just as fast as it appear, it became among the most prosperous and wealthiest (and most dangerous) kingdoms in the world. The world was in shock figuring out how an adventurer, who first came into view from a pathetic death, became the ruler of such a prosperous empire. Although once meeting the royal family, one begins to understand. Emperor Philza, also known as the Angel of Death, a man later became known for his wisdom and bravery. He will always raising to the occasion, of course, if he believe in it, and destroy anything that stands in his path. The empress is Death herself, always kind to everyone who doesn’t run from her and her touch and to be feared if you ever go against her. They formed a family that almost seems too perfect for running the place the call home. The oldest son is almost perfect soldier, seemingly never loosing a battle and always knowing how to plan to their next expansion of their territory. The crown prince has a way with words that makes everyone listen, always trying to get the upper hand and his pride always seeking what’s the most optimal outcome during a meeting. The youngest of the emperor and empress children is a loud young man that is never afraid to speak his mind, fight for any occasion to protect the empire and his family, trying to improve any injustice that may ever plague the kingdom. The crown prince’s son is focused on making the empire structurally stable, always focusing on the infrastructure and improving the technology.

Secondary characters

Ranboo: 

He was taken in by Phil when he was 15, but he really seems to be adopted by Techno than by him.

Not an official prince, but under the protection of the royal family.

Still half enderman and half something else.

He is the same age as Tommy, and they get along well-enough.

Tubbo: 

He is not adopted by the royal family, but might as well be.

Even though he is a citizen of Manberg, he spends most of his time in the empire, specially hanging out with Tommy, Ranboo, and Purpled.

Son of Captain Sparklez, his uncle is Schlatt and Puffy, and Dream is his cousin.

Half goat and half sheep (that’s the couple horn).

Purpled:

An ex-child soldier, rescued and taken in by Ponk and Punz (his biological-older brother).

He was REALLY good at his job, and still continues the mercenary work, but he actually makes money out of it.

He is an alien hybrid, which is among the rarest hybrids, and has very little drawbacks.

He hangs out in the castle because he can and nobody can stop him.

Sam: 

A prince with so many brothers that is near impossible for him to become a king, so he moved to the empire and helps in the building of it with the help of Foolish.

A raccoon-creeper hybrid, and connected to Tommy very fast because of it.

He is in a relationship with Ponk, and lives with him, Purpled and Punz.

He can explode, and tries his best to control his angel... and he is scared of cats, which works out because Ponk is allergic to them.

Schlatt

Phil’s old adventure buddy (look, I love their Hexxit series, fight me)

President of Manberg, although not for long because he dies near the end of his first term. After that he haunts, Quackity, Tubbo and Phil, although mostly Quackity. 

He has the Revive Book, because his family is cursed and all males died young and he is looking for a way to stop it or extended the dying.

He is Sparklez’s and Puffy’s cousin, although he did help raise Tubbo since they travel a lot.

5up: 

Fundy’s childhood friend (and later boyfriend)

He is a nature spirit, specifically a radish. All nature spirits are connected to a plant, and this helps him to stay connect to this realm because again, he is a spirit. 

He tries to spend as much time in the empire with Fundy but the weather is hard on him, and staying in another realm can be hard.

Minor characters

Sally: A fish-hybrid that comes to the empire when the water is not frozen solid, and despite that, she is married to Wilbur and gave birth to Fundy, making her the princess of the empire.

Squid kid: A squid-hybrids that comes to the empire year-round and helps Techno keep his crops when he knows he is going away for a battle for an extended period of time. Techno only does this because he hates machines, and prefers manual labor. 

Ponk: A dreamon-hybrid (hides it) mercenary and doctor who keeps an eye in Punz and specially Purpled. Usually the middle man between any hits someone may request.

Punz: A alien-hybrid (recessive) mercenary and ex-child soldier. While he lives under Ponk and Sam’s roof, he doesn’t really listen to them as he is only there because he cares about Purpled... also he doesn’t listen to anyone unless you pay him.

Extra info: 

Tubbo, Dream, Puffy, Sparklez and Schlatt are all biologically connected. The “C” on Tubbo and Schlatt’s name stand for Captain, which is the family name. Don’t ask why is in the beginning of their names, they don’t know either. Their curse consist in that all males in the family will die young, usually tragically (Sparklez drowns in one of his travels and Schlatt dies alone from a heart attack). While the females will start to forget things if they are not consistent, for example, they will remember how to garden if they are a farmer, but they will forget they have a child if they live alone for an extended period of time.

Dream is the rules of the Greater SMP, although he hates the idea of being the face of the country since he hates people being up in his personal business, doesn’t like attention, he has personal beef with Techno and Tommy and that is not good for public relations when you hate two of the princes of one of the most powerful empires in the world; and his uncle runs a country that is not connected to his at all (aside from being to war in the past, but Schlatt wasn’t president then). So he still rules, but put Eret as a figure head as he has good personal relations with Wilbur and they actually like the attention.

There’s a small secret revolution against Wilbur going on the Antarctic Empire run by Blop and Oreli and many other of the people Wilbur used as experiment and torture during his “rebellious” phase. They mostly just want to torture and no-canonically kill him.

Hannah and George are also nature spirits. George is a mushroom spirit and Hannah is a rose one. George lives in Kinoko Kingdom with Karl (not a hybrid, but just a straight up an interdimensional being) and Sapnap, a fire-demon hybrid, and they are visited by Dream, who’s a sheep-dreamon hybrid, Quackity (a duck hybrid) and BBH (straight up demon and Sapnap’s dad). Hannah, on the other hand, lives on the Empire in a green rose, and works as a mercenary with Purpled. They sometimes work together, but most of the time they just train together.

Quackity is the vice-president during Schlatt presidency, and takes the mantle of presidency when he dies. He wants to run, but he after entering in a relationship with Karl and Sapnap he stops and moves to Kinoko. 

[bahorell]

Les Amis (& co.) and what they’re like camping

Enjolras: Is kinda scared of the woods. Also he’s that guy that really has a hard time putting his phone down because “I just have to respond to this one email”. “Yeah give me one second I’m dealing with a work thing”. “omg did you hear about what’s happening in Canada? It’s horrible those poor people” “Enj the point of this is to get away from everything for a couple days” “Right I know…”. So if there’s even one bar of service they gotta go find a different place. When he isn’t on his phone he’s very active in all his friends activities. He’s not super outdoors-y so he mostly tags along when other people do things. He’ll have Baz or Courf take him on rides on their paddle boards. He’ll tag along when Chetta and Ferre go on hikes. He’ll be Feuilly’s little helper person when Feuilly’s working on building the fire. Or he’ll just hand out with people at camp or on the beach of the lake/river and just talk.

Combeferre: Loves camping because of all the bugs and critters! Found the tiniest little frogs on the shore of the lake one time and made everybody look at them. Brings plant and animal and bug ID books with him and will take little leaves or flowers and stick them in the pages of the book when he thinks he found a match. He doesn’t usually snack too much when he’s at home but when he’s in the woods he is always eating something and it’s really when he’ll let himself just go balls to the wall with the junk food. The only thing he doesn’t really like about camping is that he doesn’t get to go on jogs in the morning because he’s smart enough to not run into the woods in the middle of nowhere with no service by himself.

Courfeyrac: Has an inflatable paddle board that he bought! He likes to play lifeguard and will paddle around to all his friends who are swimming and give them rides to shore. He likes to share his paddle board with his friends but he didn’t have enough money to buy a super super fancy one that has a large weight capacity so usually if someone else is on it with him it sinks into the water enough to stress him out. Also he shares a big tent with Combeferre and Enjolras and he likes to sleep in the middle of the two of them.

Joly: Invested in a super super cute small teardrop camping trailer a couple years ago. It’s easier for him to get in and out of than a tent or god forbid a hammock (Bahorel has to lift him into it then Joly wants to get in one… this is also partially because Bahorel sets up all the hammocks and they are p much impossible to get in unless you are also 6’7”) The inside of the camper is just a bed and the back hatch opens up to cabinets and drawers and a counter and stuff that makes a nice little make shift kitchen. He’ll set up the camp stove and the cooking area right next to it. He’s not super involved in any of the cooking it just gives him less stress when the food area is organized and the table legs are on a flat surface.

Jehan: Jehan tells the ghost stories. They aren’t very good at telling ghost stories so nobody really gets scared (except for Marius and if they’re really doing a good job Enj will get a little spooked). They also wake up with the sunrise so they’re up and ready to start the day at like 5am… and they really aren’t quiet about it so they manage to wake up 2/3 of everybody else at camp. Has more dietary needs than other people so when every one gets together to build a grocery list and meal plan for the trip they’ll make their own list. They really don’t mind because they HATE sharing snacks so having their own little baby cooler all to themselves is the best. Bousset: Somehow manages to have the most amazing balance and can get on and off Bahorel or Courf’s paddle boards like it’s nothing but when he gets in the canoe with anybody they somehow always tip it over within like 20 seconds. He is the opposite of Jehan he’ll sleep until like 2 in the afternoon if one of them doesn’t come to wake him up. He’s also usually in charge of getting all the booze together for the trip bc he’s very aware of what everyone likes to drink. He takes turns with Chetta sleeping in the trailer with Joly since not all three of them can fit. When he’s not sleeping in the tent he’s sharing a tent with Grantaire.

Feuilly: Fire guy. Loves the fire. Is always excited for the sun to go down so he can start the campfire. Will not take his eyes off the fire. I mean seriously. They once played never have I ever and when it got to be his turn they timed him to see how long it would take for him to realize it was his turn bc he was too busy staring at the fire to pay attention (it was a solid 4 minutes). Sleeps in a tiny little one person tent that would make anybody else claustrophobic but he LOVES it. He does set up a hammock right next to Bahorel’s. He doesn’t sleep in it but the two of them will take naps together in their hammocks. He also has to dowse his body in SPF 10000000000+ because he’s the whitest person ever, and somehow he still manages to get a sunburn on some part of his body.

Bahorel: He’s the guy thats super picky about the camp spot. “eh i mean this one is cool but it’s a little too close to the other campsite and I don’t wanna be that close to other people thats the point of this trip is to get away from everybody.” “This one WOULD be perfect but it doesn’t have good access to the lake so it’s gonna be hard for those of us that have boats to get down there” “Bahorel the boat ramp is like 1/8 of a kilometer away we can just walk down to that…” “i mean we COULD… but it just kinda sucks” Also Bahorel has this super nice hammock system with like a bug net and a rain tarp, he will not sleep on the ground because he is scared of bugs and also the baby boy likes getting rocked to sleep. He always follows Feuilly around when he’s looking for a place to put his tent and he’ll set up his hammock right next to him. And he WAILS to Feuilly when they get back home because his SKINCARE ROUTINE GOT MESSED UP FEUILLY OHHH MY GODDDD

Grantaire: Not super big on camping but if he’s with his friends he’s having fun. There’s something about being in the woods that makes him quiet… but not in a sad way. He feels really peaceful when he isn’t dealing with a bunch of people in a big city (Even tho he loves the city). He always brings stuff so that he can draw or paint the mountains or his friends on the lake but he usually doesn’t get enough time to really make anything more than a sketch. He’s not scared of water but he avoids going in the lake if it’s not a part of it that’s deeper than his tummy. He won’t get in the boats unless there’s a lot of coaxing (usually by Enj)

Marius: LOVES being in the woods. I mean really loves it. Surprisingly it’s usually Marius that sends out the text to the group chat that’s like “hey is everybody free in a couple weekends? I wanna go camping!” He just really doesn’t like going by himself or going with just one or two people. He wakes up super early as well and usually will sit with Jehan and share coffee waiting for everybody else to wake up. Sometimes the two of them will go on a little walk together. He winds down pretty early in the evening though since he wakes up so early and is usually ready for bed by like 8:45pm. He’s also that guy that wants to eat all the berries on the bushes they walk past and has almost given Combeferre a heart attack like 7 times.  

Eponine: She’s… alright to camp with. She gets kinda grumpy in the mornings because of how cold it is but she warms up (both temperature wise, but also her mood) once she’s eaten and it’s gotten warmer out. She really just likes to lay in one of the communal hammocks and read book after book. She’ll also tag along with Gavroche on a lot of his little adventures. When she’s not with Gavroche or letting Combeferre show her all the little bugs and cool plants he found, she just sunbathes. For HOURS straight. Going camping for her is just a really long fun weekend to get her tan on.

Cosette: She’s so fun to camp with!! She’s like… the best person to camp with. She always does the planning and researches everything there is to do at and near the campsite. She knows all the hiking trails nearby and what areas have service and which ones don’t. She knows which campsites have lake/river access. She also makes the best camp coffee. It’s really the only time she drinks coffee unless it’s like… finals week or she’s got an early flight or something. She also ALWAYS has to tell her dad where they’re going. She shares her location and route with him on the drive there and texts him to let him know she’s about to lose service and texts him the second she has a bar of service. He’s just very protective and she wants to make sure that he knows she’s safe. Plus if anything DOES happen he knows where she’s going and can come save the day.

Musichetta: She sleeps like the entire time she’s camping. She’ll wake up in the morning and move from her tent or the camper and go lay in one of the communal hammocks near the fire ring and doze off with her hot chocolate… which she has spilled a couple times. Once it warms up a little she’s walk down to the lake or river and lay down, get her tan on, and take a nap. One of her favorite things is to go on hikes with Combeferre. He’s one of the only people in the group that can keep up with her. If they go with other people usually by the time they reach the end of the trail the rest of the group is about 2 miles behind them. One of the best parts of camping for her is going home and showering after not showering for like 3 or 4 days.

Gavroche: Spends the entirety of the first day trying to find the perfect tree to put the perfect swing on. He also likes to try to find any big rocks near the campsite and go bouldering and run around on top of them. He still really has that childhood curiosity about everything and no fear. He’ll run off trail trying to find deer or elk. If he doesn’t get back home with a couple scratches or bruises he doesn’t consider it a good camping trip. He also will swim out to Bahorel’s paddle board and Bahorel will grab him out of the water and throw him back in. Gavroche thinks it’s the most fun thing in the world even though he’s growing really fast and it’s taking a little bit more muscle every year for Bahorel to throw him as far as Gav wants him to.

[livlepretre]

Are there any real life moments or feelings that have made their way or informed scenes in any of your fics? Not asking about anything very deep or personal (unless you want to go there). For example, something as small as knowing specific places or sensations and using that to inform scenes better.

Oh tons and tons!

I did get lucky in two respects with writing tvd fic specifically--

I'm actually a painter in real life, so all of those details about using oil paints are from long years of personal experience, as well as all of the parts about drawing. The show is dreadfully wrong about the technicalities of how paint works, like, in just about every scenario, so it does grant me some satisfaction to write about it for real. (and to pretend that Klaus isn't an awful painter) (Writing about Elena as a writer is so much the same, though-- it's special as a writer to get to access a character who also writes, because there's that immediate connection to the process and the feelings that go with it)

The other is that the Originals happens to be set in Nola (for some reason), which I know better than any other place on earth. When I write about that, I'm really writing a love letter.

In general, I try to write about the places I really know well-- Nola and NYC are both pretty drawn out as portraits of those places just because I've spent so much time there (but, ummm, notice that all they seem to do in NY is drink and look at art, which is basically how I spent my 20s there ha) I picked Barcelona for SWBS in particular because I've actually been there, so I could write about my impressions of it (which get heightened in memory... and maybe that's a good thing for fiction) so much better than if I had picked, say, Marseilles where I've never been. That also extends to writing about the feelings certain places evoke-- the descriptions from the Met and the Frick, the air of nostalgia about them, the descriptions of the hall of broken Greek statuary, are all taken from a journal I was working in back when I was spending the winter in New York City and having a bizarrely melancholy time spending all day by myself at the Met.

Experience in the landscape is part of that. Every rural place feels different, and drawing on the physicality of the locations I've spent a lot of time hiking in like New Hampshire for example has really grounded the work. Also, paying attention to the things that are interesting-- I paint landscapes, mostly, so the shape of the land, the color and quality of the lighting, the kinds of flowers and trees and rocks, even the weight or lightness of the air itself, are all things which draw my attention anyway, so it's very natural for me to want to add them to fic-- and they all evoke really powerful sense memory for me, so I try to overlay that with any writing about emotions or introspection.

A lot of the details that fill the story in are just taken from personal interests-- like the books Elena reads in the library are almost all books I've read and loved, and which are influences one way or another on that story. Same for the hapless cooking experiments.

There's obviously also a ton in FE that I've gotten from talking to other people-- I personally have a knack for killing all plants I touch, but my mentor loves to garden, and invites me to paint in his garden all the time, so that's taken from him; I'm far too impatient for yoga or meditation, but again, that's the sort of thing my sister really benefits from, so I've talked to her about the experience of it a lot.

I think the creeping around old houses and snooping through shut in antique curiosities is like a very prime memory from my childhood. My grandfather had this ancient enormous ramshackle house from the 1860s that definitely used to be lots of different smaller buildings but were at some point seamed together; now, my grandmother was a legitimate hoarder (I'm being completely literal, like she makes the hoarders on TLC look like jokes), and there were lots of rooms that were shut off from the main part of the house because they were so full of dusty old interesting things, as well as a few outbuildings like that. My grandfather was very old, in his 90s, when I was a child, too old for him to really keep the house up, so my cousins and siblings and I used to run wild all through this house playing hide and go seek in those shut off rooms and corridors and finding lots of weird and inexplicable objects my grandmother had bought at auction back in the 50s and 60s and piled up high at the house. There were six hundred year old vases mixed in with old record players from the 60s, sewing kits from the 30s and boxes full of letters my great-grandfather had written and little statuettes from India and China and Vietnam sitting atop little two hundred year old painted tables. Just the wildest mix of mundane artifacts from my grandparents' actual lives mixed in with all of these beautiful old objects my grandmother used to collect. I think a lot of Elena's creeping around and hunting through drawers and going down corridors to peer into secret rooms probably stems from that childhood immersed in my grandfather's house, and then all of the time I spent as a teenager helping my mom go through it all and try to make sense of it after he died-- there's probably a weird level of specificity to the names and mechanics of different antique objects and furnitures in FE because I had to learn all about it to help my mom categorize and sell all of those things.

And that kind of takes me to one of the main things I really wanted to write about in this fic-- a detailed and empathetic dive into depression. It's never sat well with me that depression is so often so poorly depicted in media, especially on tv, and that it gets treated like a story arc (tvd season 4 is one of the worst offenders in this regard-- Elena's depression and grief from her brother dying is like a 4 episode arc and it's offensive). I had very severe depression as a teenager, compounded with a lot of grief, and I will probably always be melancholy because some things are just indelible. As a teenager, I was very much so hemmed in by death, and I was very frightened all the time; I was really broken by that experience, and I used to think the loneliness had sunk so deep inside of me that I couldn't even feel lonely anymore, or wish for anyone else. I was probably about 26 before I finally healed from this. These feelings are all probably major reasons why I'm drawn to Elena Gilbert as a protagonist, and why I read her as I do-- I know there are a lot of people who disagree with my interpretation of her, and it's possible that I am so convinced of my character reading of her because I was 20 and still battling in the heart of all of that trauma from my teen years and I felt a resonance with her. So, in writing FE in particularly, and SWBS to a lesser extent, I wanted to write about depression as honestly, openly, and lovingly toward the depressed as I could. I also wanted to write about loneliness, and grief, and what it's like to emerge from those things-- slowly, painfully, with lots of stumbles and hard, hard days. I can recognize that the depictions of depression in FE are ultimately just a reflection of my own personal experience wrestling with it-- but I'm trying to tell an ultimately hopeful story, capable of staring down into the deepest darkness and still clawing its way up into the light. Learning to write honestly about these feelings was hard-- I was so used to protecting myself and pretending that I wasn't something that had once been smashed to pieces that I found myself downplaying the emotions in my writing, being less honest. There came a point there where I realized this story was only ever going to be what I wanted it to be if I did get really honest, as much as possible. I often think of this story as being especially dedicated to the readers who recognize that experience-- and I hope it does, ultimately, read as a story about healing, as dark as it is.

[nobodyfamousposts]

ML Spite: Yeeting Off the High Road and Dragging You All Down With Me

Imagine, if you would, a slightly different scenario in our usual “High Road” plot. Instead of turning Lila’s lies against Lila, Marinette uses Lila’s lies against the classmates themselves.

Realistically speaking, in these fics, the class has already made it a matter of sides and have already made it clear just whom they’re going to side with. The fact that Lila has no proof of anything whereas Marinette at least has two potential witnesses to the truth (Adrien and Ladybug) doesn’t seem to matter. That means the classmates are actively choosing to trust the new girl over their “Everyday Ladybug”. And if they are putting their trust in someone they don’t know that well vs someone they do, whom they KNOW is a good person whom has helped them before, that means it’s because they WANT to trust Lila more. It seems that choice is primarily based on this belief regarding what Lila can do for them rather than a matter of whom is actually trustworthy.

Under these circumstances, trying to reveal Lila will only backfire. Lila can just pull out the crocodile tears and claim she “only wanted to make friends”, and you know the class will eat it up because a positive impression of someone can’t be broken that easily when people REALLY want to believe the best of the person involved.

To beat Lila, Marinette realizes she can’t just disprove Lila’s claims or even let Lila accidentally out herself. That won’t be enough to get the class our from under her thrall.

No. What she has to do is make Lila’s lies unappealing.

Cue Pettynette’s version of the “High Road”.

“But wait!” I can hear you say. “Hasn't that been done?”

Not like this.

In the other versions, Marinette, even when being petty, kept her focus on Lila and twisting her lies against her.

In this case, Marinette is twisting Lila’s lies against everyone else.

Marinette “apologizes” for doubting Lila, making the classmates happy that she’s seen the light. And she has! So she’s going to "do right by Lila”.

Lila is suspicious, but Marinette seems sincere. She takes the lies and treats them like they’re real. But she doesn’t do it in a way to counter Lila, oh no! If anything, Marinette seems to be going out of her way to give Lila what she wants.

EVERYTHING she wants. Rearrange the seating chart and ensure Lila has the seat next to Adrien. Having people assigned to take notes for her. Making the classmates take turns being her “helper” to complete tasks. Letting Lila avoid the things she doesn’t want to do while keeping her front and center for anything she could be interested in. Lila’s going to have a ball.

The rest of the class? Not so much.

After all, it helps build resentment when they're the ones being put out by Lila's sudden and ever changing "needs". Lila needs a seat close to the door in case she has to leave for an emergency? Marinette rearranges the class seating chart to put everyone BUT Lila in seats they don’t want. Lila can't write out her notes? That's fine. Everyone in class can take turns writing her assignments for her. Lila has an allergy? Gee, guess no more free pastries.

Soon enough, the class starts to have “problems” with Lila.

Nathaniel doesn’t like that he can’t draw in class anymore.

Nino doesn’t like having his time with Adrien or Alya interrupted, or just having to come to school early or stay late to help Lila with whatever she needs.

Rose doesn’t like that she’s been moved to the back because one of Lila’s issues can be irritated by her perfume.

Kim and Alix don’t like that certain sports-focused events have been cancelled because it’s not fair that Lila can’t participate.

Adrien doesn’t like that he’s suddenly getting a lot more time being around Lila than he ever wanted.

Chloe doesn’t care and is mostly unaffected. Sabrina sees no difference from what she normally does. So those two are okay, at least.

But everyone else?

The seeds of resentment are planted.

Not helping Lila is that she’s been taking full advantage of every “good” thing done in her favor. She sees this whole thing as Marinette’s surrender and is both enjoying the special treatment from the class and getting to “win” over Marinette. She doesn’t realize that Marinette only changed her targets.

It just gets worse from there.

Given that she’s been revealed as “Ladybug’s best friend” and how vulnerable she is, they can’t have Lila being alone during akuma attacks. And since Alya is her “closest friend” (and Adrien mysteriously goes missing whenever an akuma appears), Alya finds herself on “Lila Duty” regularly. Naturally, she doesn’t like that this is taking her away from on her blog, especially during akuma attacks.

Ivan and Mylene are involved in various community projects and the like, but now they’re being encouraged (by friends, by teachers, by anyone really) to focus those projects on any of the various issues affecting Lila because “it’s so tragic and they know someone personally affected”. It’s like they can’t get away.

Juleka learns that Lila’s replacing her as a model for various projects since she claims she’s done it before and her poor health issues don’t give her much of a chance to do this lately and you understand, don’t you?

Max doesn’t like that he’s pretty much doing Lila’s schoolwork for her either because of her “injuries” keeping her from doing tasks or her “charity works” keeping her from taking part in projects.

The girls find their Adrien/Marinette ship has been stalled as Marinette insists she can’t do anything to upset Lila and that Lila clearly likes Adrien, so trying to confess would make her feel bad. When they attempt to refute the claim, Marinette merely points to the picture Lila sent out in Oni-chan. (Which both Alya and Nino find increasingly suspicious.)

Lila doesn't know what Marinette is playing at. She thinks Marinette has given in. Marinette is actually going for the long game and slowly building up resentment against Lila over time. While also making the class increasingly desperate to prove Lila's a liar just to get Marinette to stop.

But because Marinette isn't actively appearing petty, they can't reasonably argue against anything she's trying to do regardless of the extra work it puts on them because it makes them look bad. Ms. Bustier admonishes them for being unwilling to help a classmate in need. Lila enjoys the attention and thus plays up the crocodile tears. Marinette gives them looks of such DISAPPOINTMENT when they start to complain. After all, it’s only a small inconvenience to help a friend, right?

And that’s what Lila has become: an inconvenience.

The worst part is they can't blame Marinette for it, since they know she has a point and is “only trying to help”. And after all, isn’t this what they wanted her to do? To put her suspicions aside and help Lila?

Now she is, and they wish she would stop.

Eventually, resentment builds. The classmates don’t KNOW Lila is lying, but they’re less willing to trust her or be blind to the things she does. So they start to be more observant. Looking for reasons to justify not needing to be so “helpful”. As such, they slowly but surely start to notice when her claims don’t add up.

Now they’re paying attention, and each of the classmates one by one come to the realization that “Gasp! Lila has been lying all along!”

Shocker.

But the best part is that they each think they’re the only one who knows. So they each try going to Marinette, the only other person whom at any point expresses suspicion of Lila’s claims, in hopes of getting her support in telling the rest of the class and stopping with the Queen Lila treatment.

Only Marinette just looks at them in confusion. The picture of innocence and naïveté, she tells them they shouldn’t make such accusations.

Even when the accusations involve things the classmates know are impossible. Or Lila claiming credit for things she couldn’t have done. Like Lila getting Ladybug to help out Kitty Section. Or Lila being Rena Rouge.

They’re all convinced, to their horror, that Marinette believes Lila now. They each attempt to convince her of the truth they just realized. 

But Marinette? She just acts oblivious. Why would they say such things about Lila? After all, she's done SO MUCH!

So each of them tries to prove to her that Lila’s lying. They point out errors, note contradictions, and actively look up proof.

But Marinette just points out reasonable flaws in their claims. Maybe Lila left out a detail. Maybe they misremembered what happened. They don't KNOW that Lila didn't help with this brave act. They can't PROVE that Lila doesn't have an injury.

And they’re each caught in a catch 22 where they can’t seem to convince Marinette that Lila lied about anything without admitting Marinette had been right from the start and they had been wrong to disregard her.

The best part is that none of the classmates dare to talk to any of the others. They hadn’t believed Marinette when she tried to warn them, and now even Marinette believes Lila. So much like Marinette in Chameleon, they each think they’re alone in their discovery, so they don't dare speak out to anyone else.

But every one of them is fully convinced that Marinette is caught under Lila’s spell and needs to be “saved”. So they keep trying to convince her of the truth only for her to seem oblivious.

They don’t realize that Marinette is using the “Kill Them With Kindness” only she’s taken the entire class down with her. She will enforce universal kindness with an iron fist until they get sick of it.

And heaven help them all if Felix exists in this variant, If he’s not outright enjoying the show, he’ll waste no time telling each of them how it’s their own damn fault.

Eventually, it all comes to a head. Marinette decides to push things further.

What the killing blow is? It’s really up in the air. Maybe it was the cancellation of a class trip because Lila couldn’t go and it wouldn’t be fair? Maybe Marinette tries to call everyone else in class together to suggest arranging a party for Lila since everyone had been complaining to her (pre High Road) how Lila hadn’t been there for the last one? Or maybe it’s just some random minor thing just just happens to finally be the ONE single straw that breaks the camel’s back.

SOMEONE finally just blows up and starts ranting. Out loud. In front of everyone. How Lila is a liar. How she’s made up everything. And just how SICK they are of trying to be nice to her and accommodate the clear and obvious lies.

Pure silence. The one person who broke is horrified at what they had done.

Until finally...

"Oh thank god! I thought I was the only one!"

Like a dam breaking, everyone else admits to knowing the truth about Lila lying. They each admit they were too worried to say something. And most importantly, they are all just DONE with Lila.

And with the rest of the class now firmly on the same “side”, they all work together to try and “rescue” Marinette from whatever hold Lila has over her by convincing her of the other girl’s lies.

“Marinette, you can’t trust Lila!”

“She lies! About EVERYTHING!”

“She���s just been taking advantage of your kindness!”

“You are too good for her!”

“Please! Please believe us!”

There is true desperation there for Marinette to believe them. That they’re telling the truth. That Lila is lying.

And gee, isn’t THIS familiar?

[fe3h-incorrectquotes]

Can I ask about Ashe and Bernadetta for the head canons?

Sorry for waiting so long to do these! Procrastination is a bitch that's been plaguing me for months. Hopefully these will make up for the wait!

Like with Bernie and Sylvain, they end up interacting over Bernie's stories. Unlike Sylvain, though, it's not because Ashe ends up reading them. Instead, Bernie's looking for inspiration in the library and stumbles upon Ashe and his spicy novel collection. Ashe is more than happy to share some of his favourites, but in typical Bernie fashion, she becomes scared that he's giving her bad recommendations to set her up for failure and runs away. Ashe is left confused and a little sad.

After speaking with some other people, Ashe comes to realize that it's not just him Bernie acts like this with, which gives him some amount of relief. He wants to try talking to her again, but if he approaches her, she'll run away, so the best thing to do might just be to wait.

And eventually, his waiting pays off. Bernie comes back with an apology, still searching for that bit of inspiration. She ends up going through some of the books Ashe likes and, though she's not sure if they're what she needs, starts to really enjoy them. Enough so that she's willing to speak with Ashe about them for short periods of time.

Eventually those short periods of time become longer, and soon enough they've got a two person book club going on. Bernie's no longer searching for inspiration, instead finding solace in someone else who's fairly low energy and easy to be around. She knows Ashe is a commoner, but it never really sets in like it does with Dorothea, because he acts more like a friend than a commoner. And it's comforting, to have someone who doesn't try to push her out of her shell, who doesn't try to get her to do more or to act differently. Someone who likes being around her without her changing.

They talk about plants all the time, too. Ashe knows a lot about caring for them and Bernie knows a lot about them, period. Ashe always listens as she goes on about her favourite carnivorous plants and Bernie listens as Ashe talks about his favourites from Faerghus. 

During the timeskip, Bernie’s scared of a lot of things, but most of all that things will change. That she’ll lose her friends, that things will be different between them, that something will go wrong and it will be irreversible. But then she finds out that Ashe has sided with the Empire because he wants the truth about Lonato, and some of those fears disappear. Sure, a lot could still go wrong, but she doesn’t have to fight against him, which is a relief.

As they’re both part of the Black Eagles Strike Force, it’s easy to keep in contact. They still exchange book recommendations in their down time, Ashe shares recipes that he’s tried, and Bernie shares small things she sews. When they’re further apart, they send letters back and forth - not too many, but enough to keep each other updated. The war isn’t fun for either of them, but they find themselves bonding over their shared dislike of fighting former classmates. 

Post-war, they’re in an entirely new Fodlan. There’s still a lot that needs to be done, but the fighting is almost over, and they finally have time for themselves. Ashe becomes a knight, but for Bernie rather than for the former kingdom. Bernie becomes a writer, and Ashe is her beta reader. She mostly writes children’s books, drawing all the pictures herself, and Ashe is always talking her up to everyone he meets. 

It takes Bernie a while to realize that Ashe isn’t going to disappear on her, despite the past five years. And it takes her a while longer to realize that she wants to marry him. It takes him no time at all to say yes, though.

The new Fodlan is full of change, but for the two of them, things are almost the same as before. They’ve still got libraries and gardens, books and plants, and they’ve still got each other. 

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

previously on...

Chapter 3 is finally here. Sorcerers need their shopping done, too. Beyonce/Wong platonic ship (joking)! And finally some action, more witchy stuff. Bucky whump because I have a saviour complex. Stucky cuteness moment. Some blood/gore in this chapter.

My insides clenched, seeing the yellow and blue notice taped to my door - the building manager rarely left notes, so whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good. I had managed to wind myself up into an anxious frenzy by the time I had gone inside and locked my door behind me, immediately thinking I would have to exhaust myself by turning to magic to keep a roof over my head.

For once, the news turned out to be positive: a neighbor was being evicted and turned in to the police for stealing packages. The building manager urged the tenants to report any missing items and apply for a refund when possible, apologizing for the inconvenience. I wondered what prompted this, basically unheard of in NYC, act of kindness as my altar stared at me with mocking amusement, pointing out the obvious by its mere presence.

Grinning to myself, I texted Odette - predictably, she was happy for me, happy that my protection spell had turned out strong and steady, and added a few tips of her own for my spell to stay that way. It felt like I'd grown invisible wings, those days, with all the possibilities open - and never once did I let myself entertain a thought of getting back at an enemy of the past for longer than five seconds.

Sure, it was perfectly human to consider making the cheating ex go bankrupt or make sure the college professor, that failed a couple of students each semester as a 'reality check', trips and face-plants at least once a day... I mean, who wouldn't experience a malicious sort of joy from petty revenge?

But I found my powers were best applied with a positive result in mind. My friend's cat was the first test rat- I mean, living creature I had practiced my healing spells on. The eleven year old kitty was struggling and both me and my friend loved the critter dearly - so the short, but tiring spell I performed yielded exactly the results I was expecting. Odette said something about genuine love backing up the magic, and- well, Dumbledore much?

On humans, it turned out, it wasn't nearly as simple. I didn't know what I had expected would happen after performing nothing short of a whole improv-performace type of ritual right in front of my very puzzled but hopeful friend with chronic asthma, but it wasn't the sheer exhaustion that ran bone-deep and left me bedridden for a whole day.

Odette visited my dingy apartment with her signature enormous purse full of vials she spoon-fed me and trinkets she strategically placed in and around my immediate sleeping area. "There, there," the woman patted my head as I pitifully moaned at the ear-splitting headache. "The first one is always the most challenging. After all, if it would be easy, everyone would do it."

I understood that. But at the same time, it felt unfair that no good deed went unpunished. I told Odette so, raising my voice to the best of my ability as she rummaged around my kitchen.

"Nothing in this world comes out of thin air, whatever you decide to give has to be taken from somewhere," she explained patiently. "People like us are considered hedge witches. We do solitary work and draw most of our energy from the Earth, from mother Nature. We cannot perform miracles, however, the cost of our spells are very low," I felt an immediate peak of interest at the simple yet effective explaination she gave me. "We remain mostly human. Gaia* is kind and generous to the ones who pay respect," Odette continued over the clatter of pans and pots. "There are other kinds of witches - who take from other people, who take from the dead. But taking something by force always leaves scars and taking something from the dead means bringing a piece of them back to places it should not be."

I pondered the words as Odette brought the kettle to a boil, the whistling shriek piercing through my skull like a sharp projectile. "What about Voodoo practitioners?" I couldn't hold back my curiosity.

Odette cleared her throat. "What is left of them is mostly not human. Their gifts are great but the costs are greater. They can live far, far longer than the average witch but their souls will know no peace, just like the souls of the dead they anchor to themselves over time," Odette entered the room with a bowl of tangy, creamy liquid that smelled like pumpkin soup. "We do not bestow any judgement upon our brothers and sisters but it is our duty to inform the young." She cast a pointed glance towards me, passing me the soup and a wooden spoon I didn't know I had. "This should help you recover. Take tomorrow off if needs be."

She left shortly afterwards and I hadn't much strength than to use the bathroom, wash the rune-engraved spoon and curl up in my bed, only waking up when the meager light shone over my face from the window. Sleepy and fog-tinted, the early morning NYC was damp and windy as I stuck my head out of the window to soak my sleep-heated head in the cool air.

As uneventful as the day at the café was, I still wasn't up to 100% energy-wise, but the long walk from Jeremy's to Odette's was pleasantly invigorating. I didn't find the cold autumn moisture displeasing; the small raindrops kept me awake and alert. Odette nodded in muted pleasure as I clocked in and returned the special spoon back to her. The runes on it were interesting; I had taken a picture of them for research purposes, fully intending to craft myself something similar.

"Odette has taken on an apprentice," Wong's voice had me take in several deep breaths in preparation for the inevitable fuck-fest on my patience. "She has been avoiding me. And the girl is painfully slow."

I didn't hear the answer of Wong's companion over the rustling of the boxes I was hastily shoving in their places before the Asian man's temper grew foul. More foul. Ugh. The sharp ding of the bell had me yelling a, "Just a second please, I'll be right with you," while trying to keep my tone polite.

Wong's sour face and a list of items required greeted me as I flew out of the backrooms, noticing the locked doors of Odette's office on my way out. Wong's companion stood at the far end of the store - his robes quite different from the ones I'd seen people of their kind wear, his lithe, tall figure seeming strangely familiar. I squinted my eyes at his back. "Is this all you need?" I waved the list around, increasing the volume of my voice.

The tall man turned around and I could only gape. He, in turn, also froze, the stern, unfriendly expression losing heat and giving way to perplexed wonder. "I had placed an order, for sorcerer Strange," Tony's boyfriend eyed me somewhat sheepishly under Wong's concerned gaze.

I nodded, eyeing Wong in turn, letting satisfaction nestle a warm ball in my chest. Stephen's look of displeasure had turned onto his... Colleague. By the time I finished retrieving Strange's order and packing up the items on Wong's list, the Asian man had left, leaving Stephen to sheepishly pretend to examine the books on the furthest shelf. I waved the paper bags as he took long strides towards me, his fancy, large necklace glimmering under the lights.

"So, how long have you been working here?" Sorcerer Strange asked after I told him the total.

The cash register beeped loudly, coins clattering on the desk as I counted out his change. "Some time now," I shrugged noncommittally. I felt his magnetic eyes gloss over my adornments, the star necklace, the various rings; I could practically feel him coming to his own conclusions. "Long enough for your colleague to get an attitude with me," I had to make sure he knew I would be taking no bullshit from him - or anyone else, for that matter. Odette's opinion on his kind was firm and I was heavily inclined to agree.

"Hmm, I see," Strange was equally as keen on hiding his curiosity. It was a funny thing, really, that we, being adults that we were, treated this encounter like some sort of a dirty secret. "Don't take it personally. Wong is like that with everyone," The man briefly scratched his beard with a gloved hand before pocketing his change and picking up the bags. "Except Beyoncè, maybe," the wink he threw me was positively mischievous as it caught me off-guard, giving him a fox-like appearance.

I sighed as the door shut behind him. Pretty white boys - the ultimate human disasters.

I had no time to dwell on them, however, as something - or someone, hit downtown with all the malicious intentions to wreak havoc on the innocent civilians calmly going about their day. Mutants and people who knew Odette came in hordes, scrapes and bruises and strange wounds that required imminent healing.

My boss was no rookie, she dutifully accepted each and every single soul, looking worse for wear with each minute. Not being able to withstand seeing her drain herself, I simply took over the simplest tasks - and she said nothing, just gave me a nod, instructed to use whatever I needed and write it down somewhere along with the name of the person who required the healing.

As the battle raged, the crowds thinned but the ones who managed to come to Odette's spouted more serious wounds, obviously a result of them fighting back. Mutants covered head to toe with coats and hats and robes, for me to swallow my shock when they undressed - horns, tails and weird skin textures were on the far end of the normal. I dutifully extracted small pieces of information from each and every person I treated.

Yes, the Avengers were winning. No, there aren't many people hurt, most of the damage is cosmetic. Yes, the villain of the week is as stupid as usual. It was like a mantra. Odette poked her head into the spare room every now and then, her eagle eyes briefly scanning over me to make sure I wasn't exterting myself.

As I applied the healing salve to a tiny, pink-skinned woman, bandaging up her hands, my boss entered and closed the door behind her, setting down on the creaky chair with a loud thud. "Just got the news, the Avengers apprehended the terrorist," she sighed long and slow. "We've done all we could, the next few days I'll be handling house calls so you'll be here on your own. I'll probably see you in a few days, don't hesitate to give me a call if something comes up," Odette seemed to be barely standing up, yet when she tore off a few pieces of her jewelry and chucked them into a big tin can under the sink, the glossy sheen in her eyes melted away.

"Okay," I mumbled under the watchful eyes of the mutant woman. "Will there be more people coming in today?"

"No," the woman in front of me snorted. "SHIELD is prowling the streets. They are not fond of us, they always say we intervene unnecessarily even though we willingly do their dirty work so our children could be safe," the bitter, harsh tone took me off-guard.

I had to admit, there was reason behind her words. "Will you be able to get home safely? I have a puffy coat and a hat you can borrow." Figuring an expensive taxi ride would be a better alternative to something terrible happening to the woman, I offered her my winter clothes.

She smiled at me, razor blade teeth and large, red eyes the kindest I'd ever seen on a person. In the end, she took the clothes, promising to bring them back in a few days and Odette gave me a parka that was too small for her frame - despite it smelling like someone's grandma's attic, I found it to be quite lovely vintage. The puffy knitted scarf she added felt like warmth and safety - she had to have knitted it herself, for I knew, handmade items carried a significant amount of energy in them.

The shop was eerily quiet as I cleaned and scrubbed the stained, dirty floors and disposed of the bloody clothes and bandages in the tiny, odd fireplace in Odette's office - that was a thing most peculiar, it burned everything I put in it, but had no chimney, no place for the smoke to exit. Magic.

Something banged loudly against the entrance door. I let out a startled shriek, broomstick falling out of my hand and adding to the sudden cacophony of noise as the figure behind the stained glass slowly slid down the door, a deep, male voice groaning something incomprehensible loud enough for me to hear.

Grabbing a large serrated knife we used for mincing the bones of small animals, I made quiet steps towards the door, seeing a large, obviously humanoid figure helplessly lean on the door. The man's arm glinted chrome black and gunmetal grey in the low light. "Sargent Barnes? Bucky?" I whisper-shouted, carefully plying open the door.

He lifted his head, blood dripping down from it, his face looked like someone went to town on it with a meat mullet, his eyes were unfocused and couldn't keep a straight line. His flesh arm leaned heavily on the door frame, the prosthetic hanging limply, dragging his whole body to its side. It must've weigh a ton.

"Я должен найти капитана Роджерса," he whispered.

I didn't understand Russian at all but I could make out the name of his boyfriend. Which made sense. Bucky looked severely concussed - I idly wondered what exactly they had been fighting, what could have given a freaking super-soldier such a brain-leaking injury. "Sargent Barnes, follow me," I put on my big girl shoes and used my momma bear voice, towing the man behind me.

He, too, weighed a ton, as I stumbled, helping him into the chair in the spare room that became my healing station for today. The longer I looked at Bucky, the less lucid he grew, eyes falling shut as he murmured something in jagged Russian, slurring his words.

There was no time to think about the consequences of exposure of my witchcraft; mortar and pestle, herbs and salves flying everywhere, I assembled a healing spell and memorized the according ritual in what felt like record time. He was bleeding all over the chair, fresh crimson blood pouring out of his nose and mouth and it was all I could see.

I hadn't known true terror until the blood that poured out turned black. Whatever it was in him, it was poisonous - my protection charms grew hot, scalding as they left marks on my skin; powering through the pain and unable to turn my eyes off the convulsing Barnes, I finished the chant just as the flow of vile, tar-like liquid suddenly ceased. It pooled around his feet, dripped down the armrests and matted his long hair. It reeked, too, of copper and putrid meat.

Bucky had passed out somewhere mid-spell, the slow, steady breathing bringing me my own sense of calm. To say that I was drained would be an understatement - my vision swam and my world spun on it's axis as I unlocked Odette's office to messily rummage through a cabinet for the emergency tonic I knew she kept there. I chugged the vial, an avalanche of almost anxious, jittery energy hit me like a freight train - exactly what I needed.

I bought myself a couple hours of time. Cleaning up the sludge around Bucky's feet and removing the outer parts of his gear was easy as he remained as relaxed as a cooked spaghetti noodle. The amount of weapons he had on him was impressive, but those weren't what I was looking for - his phone. It was dead, so I plugged it in, waiting for the 5% to show and bringing it to his fingertips, hoping he used the print recognition instead of the password option... And I lucked out.

"Hello, this is Star, I found a Bucky. Tell Dr. Strange to come get him, he knows where I am." I texted the "Stevie ❤️" contact, my inner fangirl self squealing at the dorky name of his boyfriend's contact in Bucky's phone. Shortly afterwards, I went ahead and snapped a picture of myself next to sleeping Bucky, figuring out some actual proof wouldn't do any harm in this bizarre situation.

The answer didn't let me wait long. "10 minutes" came the first text, and shortly afterwards - "Is Bucky okay??????". I had to snort at the amount of question marks before honestly replying "He will be ☺️" and putting the phone back in Bucky's pocket. I cleaned up and attempted to lift Bucky up, succeeding in waking him up into a half-lucid state, probably courtesy of decades of training and whatnot, to at least drag him to the front of the store. I wasn't particularly comfortable with strangers seeing the backrooms.

Bucky leaned with his back against the counter, ass flat on the floor and a towel with a cold compress pressed to his head when the doors all but flew open, revealing Captain Rogers, still in uniform and Stephen Strange, arguing with his boyfriend, both still suited up and bloody and grimy.

"Uhh," I blinked owlishly, causing the men to stop bickering and stare first at me, then at Bucky. "I think he hit his head," I offered weakly, backing up slightly at the amount of burning eyes staring at me.

"Shortcake, that you?" Tony's eyebrows rose as he surveyed the bodega, the items on the shelves, the black and red blood stains on my previously pristine, yellow shirt.

"Now is not the time, Tony. Go with Rogers, make sure the medical is prepared for Barnes and disable his arm," Strange barked out authoritatively, shooting me a puzzled but compassionate look. "The portal is open. I'll talk to Star, find out what happened." He advanced towards me as Captain picked up Bucky bridal-style as tenderly as he could while making sure the compress stayed on.

"Keep that tone fo the bedroom," Tony's voice was more than displeased as he shot me and Strange a hurt look, but followed Steve into the golden circle right outside the door before it sparked shut.

"Now, now, what happened here?" The sorcerer's voice lowered into a soothing drawl as I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. My shoulders sagged, fingers twitching with anxious energy. The man extended a gloved hand, briefly squeezing my shoulder. "It's alright, take your time."

Damn, did I look that bad?

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

[slowly-writing]

Cheetos

Jennifer Jareau x Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Requested by anon: maybe if you get a chance....... jj is obsessed with cheetos right? what about asking her out using cheetos somehow

You spend a lot of time paying attention to what makes JJ happy. Probably too much time, but that's besides the point. You’ve only needed to act on this once and what worked oddly enough, was a bag of cheetos. You found out by accident one day. You were on the plane home from a case, you’d lost a child and JJ was beating herself up over it.

“JJ, you’ve gotta eat something. I know you haven’t eaten since yesterday,” you beg but she shakes her head.

“I’m not hungry.” her response is short and you sigh, walking over to the kitchen area on the jet and grabbing the first thing you see, a bag of cheetos, and placing them on her lap.

“Now I’m not going anywhere until you eat those, so we can either sit here and stare at each other for the remainder of this 5 hour flight, or you can eat the damn chips and I’ll leave you alone,” you say firmly, planting yourself in the seat across from her. You expect her to snap, maybe even throw the bag at you, but to your surprise she smiles. It’s a small one but it’s there, and then she opens the bag and eats it all.

You stored that knowledge away for a rainy day, which seems to be happening right now. She’s been moody all day. She didn’t acknowledge any of you when she walked in, simply sitting at her desk and glaring at her paperwork. The team had been speculating all day as to what could be bothering her. Reid spit out a bunch of fats that just confused you and when Morgan mentioned her period he got smacked by both you and Emily. Emily suggested a fight with her “secret” boyfriend and everyone agreed that was probably it.

At the mention of Will you retreated into your own head. You being in love with JJ was about as much of a secret as the fact that she was in a relationship. The only difference was you knew everyone was aware of your poorly hidden crush, everyone but JJ.

Deciding you no longer wanted to talk to the team you walked over to JJ’s desk, hoping to be able to cheer her up.

“Hey, JJ. You wanna grab lunch?” you ask tentatively, hoping not to anger her more. It seems you’ve failed as her glare turns from her desk towards you.

“And why would I want to do that?” she snaps and your eyes go wide. You stumble back a few steps as if her words have hurt you, which they obviously couldn’t. At least not physically.

“Oh I….nevermind,” you trail off, locking your gaze on the floor and rushing to your desk. You’ve never been more grateful that your’s and JJ’s desks were on opposite sides of the room. With the way they were positioned and the amount of people flowing in and out from their breaks she couldn’t see you looking like a kicked puppy.  Unfortunately the rest of the team could and their looks of pity only made you feel worse. You quickly open your desk drawer, setting your laptop inside and taking a bag of cheetos out. You grab your bag and make your way out of the bullpen, setting the snack on JJ’s desk while you pass it as quietly as you can. In your effort to avoid eye contact you miss the soft smile she sends after you.

xxxxx

Her anger doesn’t last long, and she does make sure to apologize to you. You brush it off, stating that everyone has bad days and you both move on. The team finally has a break in cases and with your newfound freedom have gathered for family game night. You’re all huddled into Garcia’s small living room playing a truly vicious game of monopoly. Spencer was the banker, having been banned for using statistics to win every round, but he was enjoying watching the chaos. Garcia had little to no strategy. She bought the property that matched her “aesthetic” and nothing else. Hotch silently watched and strategically bought what others needed, selling it to them for a higher price. Rossi and Morgan bought what they thought would make them the most money. You bought a few properties, but mostly just sat back and watched while the others fought it out.  Emily almost always played way too aggressively and bankrupted herself buying every property she landed on. You’re pretty sure it was just to make Reid angry though, he always got frustrated and told her how it was statistically improbable that she would win like that to which she responded, “improbable. Not impossible.”

Morgan was in the lead this week with JJ in dead last. Emily had already lost, but everyone else besides falling between the two.

“Alright little mama, you're up,” the smirk on Margans face as he hands JJ the dice makes you roll your eyes. He’s ridiculously cocky, but unfortunately it’s one of the things you love about him. JJ takes a deep breath before rolling a three and landing on Morgan’s property, subsequently bankrupting her.

“Aw no! Better luck next time!” Garcia’s words would sound condescending from anyone else, but from her they sound sincere.

“Thanks Pen,” JJ says before slouching in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest.

“If it makes you feel better, you lasted longer than me,” Emily offers and JJ’s pout deepens.

“An aardvark would last longer than you,” JJ grumbles, causing everyone to laugh before turning back to the game. You nudge JJ with your elbow slyly handing her the Cheetos you’d brought when she looks your way. Her pout instantly disappears and she’s laughing, gratefully accepting the bag with a wide smile. You smile as well, feeling accomplished having cheered her up, even if it was over something silly.

xxxxx

You noticed JJ’s been a bit down lately. Not mean, not angry, just sad. She stays to herself, and when she does engage in conversation she’s quiet and closed off. Everyone has tried to talk to her about it, but she just shrugs it off as being tired or sick, but you know it’s more.

It’s just the two of you left in the bullpen, everyone else having retreated off to their Friday evening plans, or lack thereof in Reid’s case. When you look over at her she’s staring off into space and you debate asking her what’s wrong. Your internal debate leads you not to, she’s made it clear she doesn’t want to talk. You’re going to leave her be when you remember your secret weapon.

Smiling to yourself you grab a bag of Cheetos out of your desk and make your way over to her whisper her name to draw her attention.

“Oh hey, what’s up?” She asks and you send her a soft smile.

“Nothing I just…” you trail off, setting the bag on her desk. She stares at it for a moment and you go to turn away, stopping when she grabs your arm.

“Wait. I…” she trails off, searching your eyes for the answer to a question she hasn’t even asked yet. “Why?”

“Why what?” You prod gently, genuinely confused on what she means.

“Whenever I’m upset, you’re always there with Cheetos and a smile, no matter how mean I’ve been to you. Why?” She clarifies and you shrug slightly, looking to the floor to avoid eye contact.

“Oh, uh. I figured out that they’re your favorite, and it always seems to cheer you up. I just want you to be happy,” you say and she stares again.

“Why?” You roll your eyes, amused at the one word replies.

“JJ, I’m really gonna need more words from you if you want to hold a conversation,” you tease and she smiles.

“Why do you want me to be happy?” you start to answer and she cuts you off, “and don’t say it’s because we’re friends. You and I both know you don’t do this stuff for Emily or Spence. I want to know why you’re really doing this.”

“I’ve been in love with you for a long time now,” you say simply. “The rest of the team figured it out months ago, I’m surprised you hadn’t yet.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She sounds like she’s in awe, and you're shocked by the fact that she truly didn’t seem to know.

“Well, you’re with Will. As much as I want to be with you, I’d rather you be happy. If he makes you happy, then I’ll settle for being your friend who gives you Cheetos when you’re sad,” you say, with a self deprecating laugh, “as long as you’re happy.”

“How did you know that?” She asks in shock and you laugh for real.

“JJ, you’re not as sneaky as you’d like to think. We’ve all known since a week after we got back from New Orleans, but you were happy so I didn’t say anything.”

“But what about you?” You shrug.

“What about me?”

“You seem to be only concerned about my happiness. What about yours?” JJ asks, stepping closer and taking your hand. “Y/n, Will and I broke up last week. I realized it wasn’t him I liked, just the idea of him. I’m actually….in love with someone else.”

“JJ I really want you to be happy but I don’t think I can handle the emotional whiplash I’ll get if you say someone else right now. So just tell me straight up. Do I have a chance?” You ask, heart beating a mile a minute. Whatever the answer is, your relationship is about to change forever.

“Yes dummy, you have a really good chance,” she says before pulling you into a kiss. It’s everything you imagined and so much more, but it ends quickly as JJ starts giggling.

“What? What’s so funny?” you’re unable to hold back your smile at the joy on her face. Her smile is infectious, and you could stare at it for the rest of time. The next words out of her mouth have you joining in on the laughter

“I can’t believe Cheetos brought us together.”

tag list: @rvgrsbrns @rororo06 @prizmix-and-friends @worlds-in-words @im-salt-but-not-salty @5aftermidnight @riotmaximoff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

CM tag list: @reidingandwriting

[quickspinner]

Month of Miracles Day 9 - Tradition

Find the prompt list here!

I’m mixing up the prompts a bit here because I had a plan for ‘Moments of Wonder’ that can’t happen until a little bit further on in the Hallmark AU. I was just gonna do the next prompt while I got a little bit ahead on the Hallmark ones since they tend to be longer, but...this one wouldn’t leave me alone and I didn’t have enough time today to do both. Honestly, I might not be able to keep up the one a day through the next week, but whatever I miss, I’ll catch up on Christmas week where we have some planned time off. 

Hallmark Movie AU Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 (end) | Read Month of Miracles on AO3

Marinette understood why her mother thought this trip would do her good, but the truth was that she felt at loose ends rattling around in Gina’s old-fashioned but large house, all alone. At home, there was always somewhere to pitch in, something that needed doing. Gina kept her life pretty streamlined, and when she was home, she delighted in fixing up anything that might be out of sorts in her home. Gina was just too efficient, so other than keeping her plants alive, which really wasn’t that difficult since Gina kept mostly hardy breeds that could survive being left under the care of a neighbor for weeks at a time, there just wasn’t much for Marinette to do. 

Finally Marinette planted herself on the couch, set the TV to a channel covering the most recent fashion shows, and sat down to sketch. She’d have a lot of work to catch up on when she got home, so she might as well take advantage of some of this quiet time to get ahead. 

She sketched a few basic silhouettes to warm up and get the juices flowing, but after that...nothing came. Every time she started a line, she quickly rubbed about it again. Stop editing yourself, she scolded. Just get it out, and you can fix it later. 

It didn’t work. Everything she did felt wrong. Audrey’s complaints echoed in her mind. Too derivative, too pedestrian, where’s the art, Marinette? That’s why I hired you, and all you ever give me is this trash! Did I make a mistake bringing you on?

Did Audrey make a mistake? Marinette put down her sketchbook and pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them as she dropped her face against her legs, fighting down the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. She swallowed hard and tried to breathe. 

Okay. So she couldn’t draw right now. That was okay. She’d do...something else.

She got up, leaving her sketchbook on the couch and the television on, and went into the kitchen. She started pulling out ingredients without conscious thought, the spiral in her mind continuing until she actually stood in front of the mixer, measuring cups in hand. 

Marinette took a deep breath. She began measuring out ingredients, repeating the recipes in her head as she worked. This, at least, was something she could do. Nobody got all twisted up over cookies, after all. 

Well. Except Audrey are you trying to destroy my figure you’re FIRED Bourgeois. Marinette pushed that thought aside. Rose would appreciate cookies, she was sure. Gina’s neighbors would too. Maybe even Sally...would it be insulting to take some to Sally? She tried to remember if she’d seen cookies for sale in the café, and finally gave up. She’d just make some, and figure out who could eat them later. 

This was something she could do, and nobody could say she didn’t do it well, and that...that mattered to her right now. She could feel herself relaxing into the process, and she began to consider what she could make. Gina’s supplies weren’t as extensive as Tom’s, but there were still plenty of options to choose from…

Her first batch was in the oven, and she was making some simple Russian teacakes for a breather, when Gina’s old-fashioned doorbell rang. 

Frowning, Marinette grabbed a towel from the oven and went to the door, wiping at least one hand as clean as she could get it before she opened it.

If she’d expected anything, it was a package delivery, or maybe even a neighbor stopping by with some cookies of their own—this seemed like the kind of place where that stuff happened. 

On the doorstep stood a grey-haired woman with a bright smile, glasses that made her blue eyes look huge, feet well apart, and her hands solidly on her hips. Behind her stood Luka Couffaine, his lips pressed together in exasperation, propping up a large Christmas tree. He gave her a tight smile when her eyes flicked over him, but the woman in front of him had a presence that was impossible to ignore. 

“Um,” Marinette said, smiling uncertainly. “Can I help you?” 

The woman stuck out her hand. “Hello, lass. Marinette, isn’t it? Anarka Couffaine! Yer grandma be a friend of mine. When I heard you were keeping house for her while she’s away I thought we’d best be bringing over her tree!”

“Her tree?” Marinette asked, mystified. She glanced at Luka, and couldn’t help a smile when he mouthed I am so sorry at her over his...mother? Surely she must be his mother. Only a parent could put that look of embarrassed frustration on a grown man. 

“Aye, Gina always gets a tree from us,” Anarka was saying. “Thought she wouldn’t be needing one this year since she’s gone. Hated to think of her not having one when she gets back, but it makes sense, no one here to take care of it and all. But since you’re here, all’s well. You can decorate it and have it ready for Gina when she comes home. She’s still planning t’be back for Christmas Day, aye?”

“Uh, yes,” Marinette said, reaching up to tug a pigtail and remembering just in time that she’d pinned up her hair, and that her hands were still dusted with flour despite the wiping. “She and my parents and all were supposed to meet back here for Christmas Eve, so I guess—but I don’t know if—”

“Ah, that’s what I thought,” Anarka burst out cheerfully. “She’ll definitely be wanting her tree, then. No worries, lass, we know where everything is. We won’t be in your way but for a moment.” 

She didn’t push past Marinette, but it was clear she intended to move forward, and Marinette backed out of the doorway on instinct.

Luka gave her a kill me now look as he hoisted the tree and followed his mother. Marinette giggled in spite of herself, and closed the door behind them. 

True to her word, Anarka knew exactly where to find Gina’s Christmas tree things, and ordered her son around with a brusqueness that left no room for argument or debate. Marinette hovered, a bit at a loss for what to do. She wondered if she should go change into clean clothes, but Anarka said they weren’t staying long, and she still wasn’t done in the kitchen—

The oven timer chimed, and she automatically turned to tend to it. She hesitated in the door to the kitchen for just a moment, but Luka was half under the tree, getting it adjusted in the stand while Anarka barked orders. Neither was paying any attention to her, and even if she wasn’t cooking for anyone in particular, she couldn’t stand to let perfectly good cookies burn for no good reason. 

She’d just gotten everything settled when Anarka’s booming voice behind her made her jump. “I’ve got to run, lass, but Luka can finish getting things set up. I’ve already told him what to do and where to put everything. We left the box of decorations out for ye, so ye can get things all nice for when Gina comes home. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again, so, goodbye for now. Don’t forget to check the water in the tree every day!” 

Marinette didn’t even have time to answer before Anarka was seeing herself out. 

As soon as the door banged closed behind Anarka, Luka made a beeline for the kitchen. Hands against the doorframe, he leaned in. “Hey.”

Marinette turned to look at him from where she stood rolling some kind of round cookie in powdered sugar. “I swear I tried to talk her out of it,” he told her, ears burning. “I’d have had more success wrestling a bear.” 

Marinette laughed, blushing, and Luka couldn’t help his grin. She looked adorable, with her hair pinned up and her sleeves pushed up to her elbows, flour streaking the red and green, frilled apron she wore. “I can imagine,” she replied, placing the sugar-coated ball carefully on a pile of others already in a dish on the counter. “She seems like someone it’s hard to say no to.” 

Luka shrugged. “That’s my mom.” They looked at each other for a moment, Luka thinking about what a sweet picture she made and her thinking—probably that he was completely weird, standing here staring at her. “Anyway,” he said hastily, pushing himself back upright, “I’ll get this finished up and get out of your hair. I just wanted to say I’m really sorry and I had nothing to do with this...whatever this is.”

Marinette giggled. “It’s fine.” Her shoulders came down a little, and Luka gave her one more grin before he went back to setting up the tree. He was starting, he reflected ruefully, to have some dangerous if only thoughts. If only they’d met sooner, if only she weren’t leaving in a couple of weeks...

If only the people in his life weren’t so damn pushy, so that he wasn’t sure how much of the attraction he felt was sincere or mutual. If only he could be sure he wasn’t seeing things because Rose put the idea in his head. 

Luka wasn’t sure what had put his mother on the scent. It was, just barely, possible that her motives were exactly what she said they were. Gina did buy a tree from them every year, and since they were friends it was usually more of a visit than a delivery, and Anarka had more than once hauled Luka out to help set the thing up when he was home. 

Luka doubted it though. Either Rose had blabbed, or someone else had. Sally, maybe, who might have seen him holding her hand at the café, or maybe one of the townspeople who had seen them say goodbye outside afterwards, smiling and friendly. Marinette blushed so easily, and he did find her extremely pretty. it might have been easy for someone to get the wrong idea. 

The television was on, but Luka hadn’t paid any attention to it until Marinette’s name caught his ear. He looked up, and saw a good-looking blonde man on screen, waving to the crowd before he turned to help a lady out of the limo he’d just exited. There was a smaller picture of Marinette on the arm of the same handsome blond in the corner. 

Luka put it together with what Marinette had told him at the café, and pressed his lips together, irrationally angry at the man. Clearly he has a type, Luka thought sourly, looking at the new woman on his arm as the couple proceeded down the red carpet. Luka glanced back at the kitchen, and then walked over and turned the television off. Marinette didn’t seem like she was watching it, and she certainly didn’t need to see something like that by accident. 

He finished up, making sure to clean up after himself as best he could, stacking the boxes that had held Gina’s things neatly where his mother had found them. Conveniently there was a broom in the same closet, so he was able to sweep up the needles he’d inevitably tracked all over the house. 

He put the broom back, and went back to find Marinette. Whatever she was making smelled amazing. Luka paused in the kitchen doorway. Marinette was concentrating hard, piping icing onto cookies laid out in front of her. Even focused as she was, he couldn’t help but note that she looked more content than he’d ever seen her, smiling and at peace, humming softly to herself. She leaned back to study what she’d done, and the humming turned to singing. 

Luka took a quick step back and turned, putting his back to the wall next to the door, one hand going to clutch at his heart as it suddenly decided to gallop away. 

She was singing one of his songs. 

So she’s a fan, he scolded himself. I knew that. And why should he care? By the end, Luke Stone had been almost an entirely separate entity from himself. An illusion created to sell music, not a real person. 

Except Luke Stone still played Luka Couffaine’s music. And it was one thing to know Luke Stone had fans, to see them screaming in a crowd or throwing themselves at the security ropes to get to him, but...it was entirely different to hear sweet, sincere Marinette, thoughtlessly humming Luka’s songs just because she was happy and she enjoyed them. It was what he’d always wanted, wasn’t it? To know that people appreciated the music, and not just the image. It was no wonder his pulse was racing. 

Luka sighed and closed his eyes.  I’m in trouble, he admitted to himself. 

Fiction Master Post | Month of Miracles 

[divinityoswin]

chocolate bar

Commission for: @ask-wbp-b @mushroomgrenade ❤

➵ my commissions are open!

summary: Snapshots of B’s relationship with Roger, told through chocolate.

wordcount: 2024

characters: Roger & B (OC)

Warnings: mild mentions of character death

It’s a day like any other, and yet somehow the captain of the Roger pirates is as exhilarated as ever.  True, B hadn’t exactly had the time to know Gol D. Roger (not Gold Roger, he had made very clear when introducing himself to her for the first time - it didn’t help that when she tried to say she knew already, her fingers glitched) but her knowledge of the future provides insight into the future King’s personality.

He is like a child, almost, in that joyful way he views the world.  Yet there’s something much older and wiser within him, something that calls for allies.  For every battle won, Roger celebrates their victory - and also their lives.  And they’d only won two battles since B had joined them.

A week has come and gone since Whitebeard gave her his blessing to go sail with Roger, and in that time she’s made friends with most of the crew.  Shanks and Rayleigh were the most welcoming at the time, the latter going as far as to give her a tour of the crew and introduce her to all her new shipmates personally.  Roger, of course, was warm too, but it was hard to talk to him, much less reach him, what with all the commotion happening all.  The damn.  Time.

B sits underneath the mast, relishing in the rare moment of serenity in the Oro Jackson with a cup of tea by her side and notepads on the other.  There is absolutely nothing that could ruin this moment.

“Hey, B!”

Nothing at all.

“B-eeeeeee!”

She refuses to look at the intruder - one because they had just interrupted a very relaxing moment, and two because they’d been getting a resounding headache overtime from the excessive partying.  

The intruder huffs, and from the corner of her eye she sees a pink sleeve with a hand resting on a hip.  Her gaze follows up, frowning, and wondering why that voice is so familiar - and then it hits her.

“Roger!” she exclaims.  He’s never singled her out like this before.  Not even when she begged Pops to let her go with him. “Oh, I thought you were an insect.”

Roger frowns. “What does that mean?”

“Annoying,” she says, poking her tongue out playfully.  

It’s almost surreal to her, that she can banter with Roger like this.  She expects him to shout out a quick “hey!” of defiance, but is caught off-guard when he throws his head back and laughs.  That hearty, deep rumble that somehow sounds like the ocean’s tides echoes throughout the deck, and although she’s used to it by now, the power it wielded was still unfathomable.  Roger’s laughter slowly turns into chuckles, until finally it stops, and he wipes at the corner of his eyes.

“You guys always say that, but you’re the ones following me!” Roger says. “Maybe I ain’t so annoying after all, hm?” He smirks and nudges B with his elbow.

The fact that he includes her in his crew already doesn’t slip past her.  She tilts her head, staring at her new captain with interest. “Did you need something?”

“Nope,” he replies, grinning. “Just checking up on you.  We haven’t had much of a chance to talk yet.”

“You’re always surrounded by adoring fans,” B says.

He feigns a sigh. “It’s tough being so famous.  Marines are always after my autograph.”

The pair glance at each other and hold back laughter - try to, that is.  It doesn’t take long for the two to erupt into giggles, before they begin guffawking and holding in their stomachs.  Roger is the first to recover.  B takes a little while longer, mostly because she couldn’t believe the absurdity of the situation.  When she finally stops, she looks up to him.

Roger is smiling, brighter than even the sun, and she feels as though they could conquer the world together.

Suddenly she understands why so many people were attracted to him.  His personality was like a magnet, drawing people in and sticking them to him.  He isn’t nearly the demon others made him out to be, yet at the same time that power is so terrifying that she understands why.

Mihawk was right.

“So,” Roger begins, “you feeling good about this ship?”

She looks around. “I mean.  It’s nice?  I’m not much of a shipwright, but I like the wood.”

“Tom’ll be glad to hear that!” Roger laughs. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh?”

Roger sits down next to her, his legs crossed and his hands resting on his thighs.  He looks to be deep in thought. “I meant - the crew.  You feeling alright?  It’s a whole new crew for you,” he says.

Ah.  Now that makes sense.  Her now-captain is worried for her wellbeing, making sure she’s getting along well with everyone.  Ensuring that his newest member didn’t feel left out.  A soft giggle passes over B’s lips at the prospect that anyone of Roger’s crew would be unwelcoming.  Even the teenage Buggy had been nothing but warm to her since her arrival on the ship (though, with Buggy he tried to be tough and scary - keyword being tried).  

“It’s a wonderful crew,” she says, “with a wonderful captain.”

Roger’s grin grows even wider, as if that were physically possible.  He shines brighter than the sun. “A wonderful captain, eh?  Now that’s a compliment from a gorgeous lady!”

B doesn’t bother hiding her blush.  Roger would somehow sense it, anyway - he always does have a sixth sense for that kind of thing.  So, instead, she leans against him playfully, feeling the salty ocean breeze across her face as she looks up.  Roger smells of berries and the sea itself, she muses. 

“I brought you a gift,” he says. “Just a small welcoming present.  Don’t feel the need to pay me back.”

In her hands sits a box, placed there by the future Pirate King himself.  It’s a light box, simple, plain - a tangled mess she assumes is supposed to be a bowtie is tied on the front.  

“Rayleigh did that,” Roger lies. 

Curious, she removes the bow and opens the box.  

Chocolates.  Dozens of them littered inside - it’s not exactly a pre-brought box, and she notices a couple of them are half-eaten, but the sentiment is enough for her.  Smiling, she picks up a piece (not one of the half-eaten ones, she doesn’t want to know whose fault that was) and plops it into her mouth.

The chocolate instantly melts inside, the sweet sensation - with a hint of salt from the ocean breeze - bringing pure bliss to her mouth.  B savoured the taste, having not tasted some since - when was the last time she had some?  Whitebeard didn’t usually have it on his ship, so there was a very real possibility it was before then.  She is at least grateful it’s milk chocolate too - not too sweet, and not too bitter.  She swallows, and grins.

“You know the best way to a girl’s heart is by chocolates, huh?” B says, munching down on another one.  

Roger shrugs. “If anyone tells you I only got you them so I could snitch them off you, they’re lying,” he says, but in a playful manner, so B assumes he’s joking around.  

“Oh?  And just who ate half of these already?”

“I told you, Rayleigh.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm,” Roger whistles, averting his eyes from B.  B sets the box of chocolates down and leans over to his field of vision.  He looks the other way, and B leans the other way.  Finally, he looks up, seemingly intently focused on the clouds, and B kicks him in the shin because he’s only looking where B cannot go, and he knows B is not tall enough for that, and - oh, dear God, B just kicked the future King of the Pirates.  The captain of the Roger Pirates.  Roger himself.

He’s hissing in pain, hopping on one leg and holding his other knee close to his chest as he rubs it.  For a moment, B’s confused - honestly, she didn’t hit him that hard, did she?  

But he’s glancing over at her expectantly every-so-often, pausing in-between moans of pain, as if he’s expecting her to do something.  Like nurse him.

B rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” she says, and begins her walk towards the kitchen to get an ice pack.  Not for Roger, of course.  

* * *

They’d found themselves soaring high up into the sky, much higher than anything they’d ever seen before -  not even Reverse Mountain, according to those who were there back when they traversed up it - could compare to the sheer height of Skypiea.  The Oro Jackson had survived the knock-up stream (with, thankfully, no one hurt) and the citizens greeted them with curiosity and wonder.

Now, they’re scattered over Angel Beach, sipping on pumpkin smoothies and enjoying the brief period of relaxation that has been bestowed upon them.  The Roger Pirates almost feel right at home here.  Almost.

B sips on her smoothie - it’s okay, she thinks, she doesn’t dislike it.  But she doesn’t particularly love it either.  Pumpkin isn’t exactly a tropical drink.  It doesn’t fit the mood right.  Sighing, she leans back on the lounge chair until she was laying on her back, staring at the cloudless sky.  

If memory serves her correctly - which, honestly, had been somewhat of a struggle as time passed - this is the time that Roger carves his name into the Poneglyph.  Which means that their journey had reached somewhat of a halfway point.  That, eventually, Roger would… well.  The thought sours her mood completely, leaving her brooding away from the rest of the crew and glitching ever-so-slightly.  If the others notice, they don’t say a word - save for Shanks, who wants to know if B would like to watch him drop a crab down Buggy’s shorts.  She denies, and he runs off, looking mildly concerned for her.

A sigh passes through her lips.

“Beli for your thoughts?” The voice of her captain surprises her, almost causing her to drop her smoothie. “Wait - don’t tell me.  I don’t wanna hear spoilers.”

“I almost dropped my smoothie,” B says, turning to give Roger an unamused glance. 

“Ah, but you didn’t!” Roger replies, sipping on his own drink - a conasshu, one of the locals had called it.  He looks a bit ridiculous, with a hibiscus planted in his hair, his open shirt stitched together with a tropical flora pattern, and swimming shorts to top the look all off.  Even his sandals scream tourist. “Shanks told me you were looking a bit down - everyone did, really.”

“Oh.”

There’s an awkward silence that passes between them.  B finishes off the last of her drink, the slurping sound seeming like thunder in her head.  Then, white noise.  Even when  Roger yells something to Buggy, distracting the poor boy for a brief moment.

Buggy yelps in pain.

Almost instantly, the silence is broken, broken by Roger’s laughter and his absolute joy in the scene in front of him, and B forgets about everything, and laughs too.

“By the way, present for you,” Roger says, handing over a piece of chocolate. “We found some on Jaya.  Thought you’d appreciate it.”

B takes it and frowns.

“Someone’s taken a bite out of it,” she says.

“Yeah, I told Rayleigh not to, but you know how he is.”  Roger grins, placing his hands on his hips and shining brighter than even the sun - a difficult thing to do this high up in the atmosphere. “Always stealing food, that damn first mate.”

“Rayleigh, huh,” B repeats.  She takes a bit out of the chocolate - it’s a bit too bitter for her tastes, but it’s fine.

Roger gasps. “Indirect kiss!”

“Oh, shut up.”

* * *

The bell rings.  Once, twice, thrice - then, there’s the muffled jeers, the cries of joy that are distant and oh-so-cruel.  

B sits by herself, alone at a bar, and downs another glass of whiskey.  She doesn’t know where the rest of the crew are now.  Maybe they’ve scattered all over the place.  Maybe some of them have settled down.

A half-melted, half-eaten chocolate, still wrapped in foil, sits in her pocket.

[minourp]

Mermaid Au

I know I said this would probably be a one off idea but it invaded my dreams the other night so I had to write it out. It ended up being much longer than I expected.

Quick background: Most people avoid the sea because it's dangerous and unexplored. Rey is seen as an outsider because he doesn't stay away. Ty and the trux teamed up before meeting the others (for the same reason though).

~~~

It was a dim night, no moon to illuminate the inky waves. The boat rocked and swayed beneath Rey’s feet, a storm approaching. He hadn’t meant to stay out so late but there was this fascinating coral reef he had been cataloguing and lost track of time. He had hoped he could make it back before the storm arrived but the clouds seemed faster than him.

The wind picked up outside the cabin, salty mist spraying the windows. Rey steered the boat back towards the town. He knew exactly where he was going, he was practically his own compass. But something was fighting the rudder. Of all times for it to break, he thought.

The dark storm clouds began to block out what few stars were visible above. The only light now came from the small boat, though it did little to cut through the encroaching darkness. The waves were higher now, washing over the deck as the boat tilted back and forth. Anything not tied down was rolling around on the floor behind Rey. Fortunately that wasn’t much: It paid to be prepared.

It was a fight to keep the boat straight. Straying from his course now would mean being parallel to the oncoming waves. Being parallel meant capsizing. Capsizing meant… well, you know.

He heard a thunk below the ship. Now normally in a situation like this you pay little attention to “thunks”. It could be a number of things: something heavy fell over in storage, debris hit the underside, etc. However, when the “thunk'' is immediately followed by the boat course correcting itself, you stop and think twice.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Rey kept his focus on leading the boat back to dry land. Or at least he tried. Who wouldn’t be intrigued? Of course he couldn’t leave the wheel now so he was left to speculate.

And speculate he did. He couldn’t have hit a reef, this area was quite deep. Had he hit an animal? But that wouldn’t explain the ship steering itself through the storm. It just didn’t make sense. Rey loved a good mystery.

As if to interrupt his thoughts, the lights of the town dock broke through the rain. Rey quickly pulled up to it and wasted no time hopping out to tie the ship down. As he looked up, he saw a dark shape in the water. It disappeared before he could make it out. He shook his head and went to grab his bag before departing. The others wouldn’t be happy.

Within a couple minutes, Rey arrived back home. “Home” was relative of course, he considered the ocean his home. But for now, this apartment was where he resided with his friends. Speaking of, he hoped they had already gone to bed and wouldn’t notice his late return. He opened the front door.

“Well well well,” greeted a condescending voice. Waldo’s voice.

“Hello,” Rey greeted, stepping fully inside and shutting the door behind him.

“Where were you? We were so worried!” Conner cut in, instantly hovering right next to Rey. Ace also stood nearby, behind Waldo’s chair. So everyone was here.

“Nothing to worry about, I just stayed out later than planned,” he explained, taking off his jacket and boots.

“But the storm!” Conner objected, a clap of thunder punctuating his point and making him jump.

“I made it back safe. I told you, it is fine.”

Rey walked between them and headed for his room. Technically it was a shared room but they’d leave him alone in there.

“Those are dangerous waters.” Waldo’s voice followed him.

Once in, Rey shut the door behind him and turned on the lamp. He set his bag next to his bed and began to unpack. Today's research was the first to come out, the photos being carefully tacked onto his map and the rest filed in its place.

The map was of the local seafloor. Rey had taken to cataloguing and studying the various plant and animal life. Most people in town believed the nearby ocean was dangerous and mysterious but that’s what interested Rey! So much to explore and discover! He knew no one understood.

As he moved on to pull out some of his equipment, there was a soft knock at the door. He looked up as Conner entered slowly, closing the door behind him. A moment of silence passed.

“He’s right, you know.”

“Oh not you too,” Rey sighed, setting down his camera on the nightstand.

“Tonight you were lucky! What if you’re not next time?” Conner said, wringing his hands anxiously.

“I know what I am doing. Today was a fluke,” Rey assured, sitting on his bed to take off his damp socks.

“Well I still think you’re crazy.”

“I am? Conner, you are afraid of pinecones.”

“Everyone’s afraid of pinecones!”

“No one is afraid of pinecones.”

“Well they should be.”

“Goodnight Conner.”

“G’night.”

With that, Rey flicked off the lamp and laid down. He could hear Conner do the same across the room. On the far wall he could see his map, dimly illuminated by Conner’s nightlight. His eyes settled halfway between the new reef and home. Whatever had happened out there, he considered a mystery. And mysteries need solving.

~~~

The next morning, Rey got up as soon as the sun shone through the windows. Careful to not disturb Conner, he changed clothes and exited the room. Once out, he could see Ace in the kitchen. That’s a little… scary.

“Good morning,” he greeted, walking over to the kitchen island and taking a seat.

“Hey. I was just making some toast. You want some?” she asked, holding up the bread bag.

“Sure, thank you.”

“Yeah, just don’t tell Waldo. He’s convinced I’ll burn the place down.”

“To be fair, there was that one time--”

“That was an accident! I’m never gonna live that down.”

She facepalmed exaggeratedly, giving Rey a chuckle. He noticed today’s paper on the counter and picked it up, skimming through.

“So… find anything cool yesterday?” Ace asked, waiting for the bread to toast.

Rey paused for a moment. “I was checking out a new reef to the northwest. It’s ecosystem seems quite vibrant in contrast to the one closer by.”

“Probably from not being overfished.”

“Perhaps, but I would like to study it more.”

“You’re going back out there?”

“Well yes, there is… I do not know.” He tried to busy himself with the paper.

“What is it?” Ace pressed, suddenly intrigued.

“Nothing. It was probably nothing.”

“Probably?”

“It was nothing. I am sure of it,” Rey concluded, setting the paper down.

Just then the toaster went off, saving Rey from this conversation. Ace turned and plucked the hot pieces out, dropping them on two plates. She brought both plates to the island and grabbed some butter and jam. She took a seat next to Rey, drawing her plate closer.

They both dressed their toast and ate in silence. It wasn’t long before Conner came out and joined them for breakfast, choosing a plain bagel. With the counter full, he sat on the couch, legs carefully tucked underneath him. Before long, Ace started to rave about her latest project. Eventually Waldo emerged too, groggy as usual.

It wasn't long before it was time for Ace and Waldo to head to work. They both worked at an auto repair shop, owned it in fact. Waldo stopped on his way out and turned to Rey.

“You’re not going out again,” he started.

“Of course not. I am going job searching again like I told you,” Rey answered.

Waldo seemed unconvinced but left anyway. Rey watched him close the door and heard the footsteps fade out.

“You’re going back out, aren’t you?” Conner asked.

“Absolutely.”

~~~

As Rey arrived back at the docks, he could see his small boat still in place. It looked so dingy in this lighting. Still, it had gotten him through so much. He boarded and set his bag down in the cabin. Stuff was still strewn across the floor from last night.

Despite the unruly appearance, everything seemed in good condition. Everything but the rudder. How could he forget? He grabbed a pair of goggles and went to check it out.

He had put on a wetsuit before he left so he simply slipped into the water. He made his way to the back and found… seaweed? It was tangled around the rudder, restricting its movement.

It didn’t make sense. He had made sure to avoid the boat getting too close to shallow areas where this would normally grow, so how did it get here? Maybe it was floating along and just got stuck. That must’ve been it.

As he worked it off the poor rudder, he noticed it was a single length of seaweed. The two ends almost looked like they had been connected together in a loop. Odd. Maybe some kid on a beach had been playing with it before it drifted away. It certainly didn't seem native.

After successfully detangling it, Rey surfaced and climbed back in the boat, taking the plant with him. He didn’t want it getting lodged back in again. He untied the boat and made his way to the cabin to start it up. Moment of truth.

It started like normal and he was off. The small town disappeared behind him as he made his way to the open ocean. There was no evidence of how hostile the sea had been last night.

It wasn’t too long before Rey made it to roughly where he had been yesterday. He stopped the boat and let down the anchor. He stood on the deck, looking out at the open waters. Now what?

Honestly he wasn’t too sure how to proceed. It’s not like he could recreate the scenario. Something was telling him to come out here though. Maybe he should just have a look around. This area was mostly unexplored by him so far, as he normally stuck to more shallow waters.

Rey got out his diving gear and brought it to the deck. He began to put it on when he stopped. He felt like he was being watched. Out in the middle of nowhere though?

To be safe, he took a look around. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something dip below the side of the ship. Was he not alone out here? He approached the other side of the deck carefully, looking around. Nothing seemed out of place.

He heard an abrupt squelch and turned around to see the seaweed chunk slide over the side through the scupper. Something had pulled it over, it wasn’t near the edge before.

Rey slowly came back over and called out, “Is anyone there?” He was met with silence. “Hello?”

It’s probably just an animal, he told himself. Nothing to worry about. If it took the seaweed, it’s likely herbivorous, right? Perhaps it was a seal. That would be the first he’s seen around here. He needs to see this!

Rey quickly grabbed his camera and finished putting on his gear. He still couldn’t shake that feeling of being watched. Hopefully that meant it was still in the area. Once done, he sat on the wall and let himself fall backwards.

Now in the warm water, he looked around… and saw nothing. Had he scared it off? Disappointed, he began to rethink his plan. That’s when he noticed movement. Something was on the other side of the boat, its tail just visible beneath the hull. The tail did not resemble any seal Rey knew of. It was thick, pale red, and rubbery. In fact, it looked more like that of a… shark.

Okay, stay calm. Sharks don’t typically attack people unless threatened. Just get out of the water before it approaches you. But… sharks don’t swim vertically like that.

Against every instinct, Rey let himself sink deeper. The tail disappeared behind the hull. In its place was a face. A human face. The other person stared upside down at Rey with wide eyes. Rey froze. There was a person with the animal… shark… thing?

But wait, how was he breathing underwater? He must’ve just ducked under. Rey decided to swim around the short end of the boat and approach him. As he rounded the back of the boat, he saw the man had moved to the far end and was peeking around the side.

Head now above the water, Rey took his mouthpiece out. “Hello there.”

The man had risen to the surface as well, though still around the far end. Whatever creature was with him seemed to have swum around the far side too.

“My name is Rey,” he tried again, approaching very slowly.

The other thought for a moment, then answered, “Ty.” He had a slight accent Rey couldn’t place.

“Nice to meet you Ty,” Rey said, setting his stuff on the deck and hoisting himself up to sit on the edge where there was no railing. “You are welcome aboard if you like.”

“No thanks, I’m in a lot of trouble already.”

“What trouble?” Rey asked, suddenly concerned.

“I’m not supposed to talk to… you guys.”

“Me? Why not? Did Waldo put you up to this?”

“Who?”

“You are serious?” Rey asked. He nodded. “Then who told you not to talk to me?”

“My friends say you are dangerous. I don’t think so though.”

“I’m not dangerous though…”

“And I’m sorry about last night.”

“Last night? What--”

Rey heard something breach behind him and turned to look, seeing an unusually blue dolphin’s tail land back in the water. When he turned around again, Ty was gone. Rey stood up, looking all around.

“Ty? Where did you go?” he called, but to no avail.

Maybe the others were right, he concluded. Being out here is frying my brain.

[1,897 words]

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

1. Red Tape and Red Lines

Nanefua lived before what they now call “The Fall.” She used to tell stories of green fields for miles and miles. Of trees that grew all sorts of fruits - each fruit from a different tree. Vegetables from the earth. Creatures that we see in picture books that used to live in the sea, and even roam the Earth. She would say, “But, that was a long time ago,” and top it all off with a sweet chuckle and a very inspiring, “And with the right leaders, it may be ahead of us again still.” 

She believed in a future where society could exist again, for all. She dreamed of a world where we all had what we needed to survive, as well as things that we wanted - pleasures of the world to grant us some happiness while we occupy our space here. I’ve always liked to think that she dreamed of this each time that she went to sleep. I like to think she was dreaming of it the last time she went to sleep, in our little hut in the Outskirts. I like to think that beyond this world, she went to another, one where she had trees with fruits again. 

As we buried her in the earth and I watched Baba draw himself a map of exactly where and put it into his favorite book, I let myself dream that Nanefua was in a better place. Not just in some homemade plot identified only by a hand drawn guide. That was the first dream that I can remember ever having, and I credit her stories. Because the world around me was nothing to build a dream upon. The world of my day was anything but fruitful, was as far from good as I can even describe to you…

.

The Fall. It happened before Shani was born. It happened when her parents were too young to even remember. They DIDN’T put it in new books. They didn’t make new books. They didn’t keep places open that did provide books. That was what made Nanefua faithfully believe that books were invaluable. She kept every one that she owned, collected every one that she found, and bought every one that she could afford. 

When the homeless were being relocated outside of the city and lower income households were being pushed further away from the city, Nanefua at least had a van to her name. She was content to live in it, as she wasn’t the best at haggling and that was what they were doing a lot of to get into homes in what was now called The Outskirts. She, like many women, paired up with a man to get into a space. It was a very small apartment, and he fortunately was good at maintenance, because The Fall stopped a lot of building ventures. Many of the apartments in the area were incomplete and abandoned. All of the empty homes of people who died were up for grabs. Squatters rushed into those, and landlords never came to collect. 

It was like people in the city refused to think about them for a while, probably simply hoping that they would just die, out of sight and out of mind. Having a male roommate was good for a lot of things. He built several shelves for all of the books she had, even though he didn’t know WHY she held on to something that was becoming obsolete, and he wasn’t bad looking, either. A little short, and stocky, but he was strong and had a nice smile.

Nanefua and her roommate were not in love. They barely even liked each other. But, they were human and they had needs. Baba was born in the beginning years of The Fall in a small apartment, with barely running water and scheduled electricity. When Baba was 3, the apartment’s original owner sent their emissary to collect payment. Nanefua thought this would eventually happen, so she had been saving up as much as she could. It wasn’t enough. They took what she had, gave a date for the rest and took her roommate to work for it.

She never saw that man again. Emissaries became the norm. They came with muscle behind them, with unfair contracts and rough consequences. She took her toddler and her books and they lived in a packed van and she posted near a well that she would steal water from. Every now and then, she would check the old apartment to see if Baba’s father had come back. When he was 6 was the last time. She saw the emissary bring in a construction team. They were going to work on the apartment, finish some things up... More people couldn’t live in the city and now, middle class folk were forced to live in these apartments.

Middle class no longer existed, they just didn’t realize that yet. Most of them began working JUST to be able to live in their homes. They had to hustle and scrape for other needs - food, water... She was content to build a little hut near the well. The owner of the well hired her to collect payment from anybody who wanted water from it and allotted her a certain amount herself. She used the land to grow food. The soil was better back then. The water was better back then. 

By the time Shani was born, the ecosystem outside of the city was abysmal. Working was done to survive. Rich people lived in the city and the further away from the city you lived, the further away from wealth, health and happiness, and the closer you were to death.

Shani wondered when she was little, “Was there a sickness? Like, a plague or pandemic? Was there a natural disaster? Was there an economic crash? How did things get so bad? What caused The Fall?”

“The rich was greedy and didn’t care if they killed everybody, as long as they had.”

Long story short, ALL of those things happened. Natural disasters, illnesses, every bit of misfortune... but they simply let them die. Pushed them out, forced them away. Let them die. The Fall is what they called it. They acted like it was something that happened. Like the system wasn’t up against these people all along. The system had been messed up. They just finely tuned it with the more money that they made.

That was the world that Shani inherited, but she also inherited the books. And Shani LOVED books. 

.

Her mind worked a little differently than the people around her. From the time she was able to recognize things and respond to others, that had been a truth about her. Her mother had learned to read before all of the school systems became privatized, and since her grandmother purchased as many books on teaching and learning as possible whenever bookstores began to go out of business and funding was cut for libraries - Shani never had a shortage. Reading became something that only the privileged had the best access to. The privileged, and Shani’s family... maybe a few other poor families.

Whenever libraries became obsolete and the buildings began being repurposed, only librarians cared enough to collect all of the now “useless” books and they banded together to get cheap properties and hold the books there. It would have been criminal to refer to these places as libraries. They didn’t receive funding. They couldn’t order other books, and they didn’t have fancy systems or regular staff to keep everything in the best order. 

So, after a few years, the Dewey decimal system was no longer at play. They simply had signs saying that if you dropped off books, you could trade them for others, and if you took any books to keep, to please try to leave another to borrow. After another few years, they had signs that just said: Free Books. Nanefua gathered as many as they could fit into the hut. Shani fortunately began reading very early as a result. 

True, learning to read from a book was extremely different from the computerized learning systems of the privatized schools, but the alphabet had not changed, and most people underestimated the purpose of books. By the time she was 4, she knew how to both read and speak in several languages, because she had been shown books since she was able to say her first word. Mama and Baba disagreed on what that word was, whether Mama or Nana, but the moment any of them heard it, Nanafue said the girl was ready to start looking at letters and words. She would teach her herself.

After all, she had survived mostly on things she learned just from looking into her own book collection.  Baba was a miner, and often had to travel and send money to them from wherever he was on location working. Shani got used to not seeing much of either of her parents as a small girl. Nanefua raised her for the most part for the first 6 years of her life. But, whenever Nanafue was gone, she had to get used to being alone. It was a long year. Time worked really different for little kids, whether or not they were having a ball. And she was not.

Her mother was bused into the city for gardening and landscaping. She did yard work through a firm and was sent to various properties to spend ours cultivating their yards and plant life. She had picked it whenever she was 5, and had been stuck doing it since then… only advancing to harder, more grueling work in fields and on large pieces of land as she got older. Whenever Shani was little, her mother spent most of her time working at a pomegranate farm. It was a very lucrative industry, and being one of the best, her mother made enough money to get her considered for schooling.

The tests for outsiders to get into city schools were much more difficult than they were for the rich people. Outskirts kids had to work harder and smarter to even get noticed, and their parents were charged brutally in order to take every potential step to gain access to a school.

It didn’t help that Shani’s mind didn’t work like other people’s did. They often thought that she was showing off, or trying to make them feel stupid whenever she would have conversations with them. It taught her not to speak too freely. But, that helped her learn to write things down. Sometimes, she couldn’t focus and needed to write many things down. Regardless of her speaking situation, or her focusing habits, she got into one of the best schools in the city whenever she was 5...

But her parents couldn’t afford to actually send her. 

Instead, they sent her to a less expensive Montessori school, on the merit of her acceptance into the Academy of Superiority. The school masters worked with them on paying her fees and she also was assigned several chores to help compensate. She was exceptionally good at organizing and cleaning up, and whenever she took summer breaks, her teachers would alert her of what they would expect to be known in the upcoming years so that she could homeschool for the summer while they saved up for tuition. 

They applied for the scholarship program each year since she qualified at age 7. It wasn’t until she was 10 that she both was granted access into AoS under the work program.

Riding into that part of the city sent her mind into a whirlwind…

[kuiperblog]

DRPGs: function over form

I have an odd affection for DRPGs, or “Dungeon-crawling Role-Playing Games,” which are sometimes referred to as “Wizardly clones” in the same way that early FPS games were called “Doom Clones.”

Legend of Grimrock is an indie game that I’ve found is closest to actually emulating the feel of the original Wizardry games from an aesthetic perspective while updating them for modern graphics; most of the examples from recent history are Japanese and feature anime-style character designs, with Etrian Odyssey being perhaps the best-known (and best-selling).

I describe my affection for DRPGs as “odd,” because few other games have the ability to thoroughly captivate me for the time I’m playing, only for me to completely forget everything about them when I’m done playing them.

For example, I recently noticed that Demon Gaze 2 was on sale for 75% off in the Playstation store. I’m keen to try it out, since I enjoyed the first Demon Gaze game so much that I took the time to 100% (I earned the “platinum trophy” so that anyone on my Playstation Network friends list can see the evidence of my achievement). This is a task that reportedly takes around 50 hours. I say “reportedly” because it’s based on other people’s reports of how long it took for them to “platinum” the game; I can’t really recall from memory how much time I spent playing that game, or really anything else about it for that matter.

I cannot express how weird it is for me to not have a memory of have any specific memories of playing a video game, especially one that I spent that amount of time playing. I can still vividly remember a specific game of Dota 2 that I played over half a decade ago. I could talk for paragraphs about an indie puzzle game that I played for 2 hours in 2012. You could ask me to talk about any of the N64 games I played as a middle schooler and I could probably recall many specific memories from the time I spent with those games.

And yet, when it comes to Demon Gaze, I remember nothing. Not the characters, not the plot, not any of the specific milieus or setpieces. And, truthfully, it’s probably because caring about any of these things is never really something that the game asked of me in the first place. I earnestly tried to remember anything I could about Demon Gaze, and here is a full, comprehensive list of what I came up with:

There’s an NPC whose character trait is that she’s always sleepy. I think she lived in the basement of...something. I think your “home base” was an inn, and she lived in the inn’s basement, and you would sometimes have to talk to her to do certain things or something.

One of the levels had plants and was mostly green. Maybe multiple levels, actually. I want to assume this meant there was a hedge maze, but I’m not actually remembering a hedge maze; I’m just assuming that a dungeon-crawling game plus a green area must mean there was a hedge maze.

One of the levels involved climbing a tall tower, or maybe descending into a deep pit. There was definitely verticality involved, and the map was cylindrical.

I think the main character used swords. But maybe they didn’t. I’m pretty sure that you could dual-wield at a certain point in the game. (I think part of what made the main character so strong was the fact that they could equip an artifact that let them dual-wield?)

That is truthfully and honestly the full extent of what I remembered about the game before I started writing this post and digging up screenshots which reminded me of the main character’s heterochromia. When grabbing screenshots for this post, I found one that showed a character’s class as being “Paladin,” and my reaction was not, “Oh yeah, Paladin was totally a character class in this game,” but “Oh yeah, Paladin totally sounds like a character class that could plausibly be in this game.”

Normally, I’d have memories of specific boss battles, or setpieces, or characters, or story moments. But in place of those, I have memories of looking at Google Sheets that people had made to list all of the items that dropped from certain areas, and ranked them to let you know which items were the best. I could more vividly tell you the decor of the room I was in when I unlocked the platinum trophy than the final boss I beat (or item I obtained) to unlock it. (Being a game for a portable system like the Vita, I actually have memories of many locations and “setpieces” associated with that game; just not locations in the game.)

DRPGs are, maybe more than any genre, a game that is experienced through a layer of abstraction, and I think this is best illustrated by the Etrian Odyssey, which lives in the DS family of systems, which are notable for having two screens (as is suggested by the name “Dual Screen”). Here’s a screenshot that shows what the game displays on both screens when you’re dungeon crawling:

On the top screen, you see the environment you’re exploring in all its 3D-rendered detail. On the bottom screen, you have a map of the area you’re navigating, with the arrow in the middle indicating your current position and orientation. And for the vast, vast majority of dungeon crawling, my attention is focused solely on the bottom screen.

This is, I gather, how most people play DRPGs. Etrian Odyssey puts even more of the focus on the bottom screen by forcing you to draw the map as you walk (hence the bevy of icons and paintbrushes it offers you when filling in the grid). If you try to play by looking at the environment, you’ll quickly realize how much of the area is just copy-pasted assets that are difficult to navigate by. The map isn’t just a “guide;” the game feels less like a first-person dungeon crawler and more like game with a top-down POV where your avatar is represented by that arrow on the map. If you watch gameplay videos and only pay attention to the top screen, you’ll be blown away by how fast it seems like people are moving, but it makes a lot more sense when you realize that people are only paying attention to the map: people will see, “okay, I want to walk north 5 tiles, turn 90 degrees left, then walk west 2 tiles,” and then just input that series of actions faster than the walking animation can actually play out on screen.

I’m half convinced that the reason Etrian Odyssey took off more than any other DRPG is that, due to being on the DS, it has an entire screen dedicated to the map, whereas in a game like Demon Gaze, your screen is mostly taken up with what amounts to decorative filler while the part of your brain that’s focused on gameplay has to focus on a mini-map in the corner of the screen:

So, perhaps you can understand how it is that I played this game for 50 hours, yet have no recollection of the scene/location depicted in this screenshot. It’s because close to 100% of my focus was on the mini-map. I experienced most of this game as an abstraction.

There’s a real sense in which DRPG players (I’m talking about myself here) want everything in the game to be an abstraction. The ideal length for a combat animation is “as long as it takes for me to read how much damage the attack did, so please just advance the battle as fast as I’m pressing the X button.”

Video games are inherently abstractions of real things, like the way that adding the pyramids to my build queue in Civilization V is an abstraction of what it’s actually like to build the pyramids in ancient Egypt, or left clicking in Counter-Strike is an abstraction of what it’s like to fire a gun, but they usually try to call back to the things that they’re abstractions of. Civilization gives you an inspiring quote from some historian describing the pyramids, and Counter-Strike tries to have animations and sounds that somewhat reflect the behavior of real guns. But in DRPGs, I don’t want the combat to be the simulation of my character swinging a sword on an enemy. All I care about is watching the numbers flash on screen, and the reward isn’t “you’ve triumphed over this vile forest-dwelling enemy,” it’s “the number on your exp meter went up.”

While games like World of Warcraft eventually become like this for a lot of people (a game with a hundred buttons that is all about managing cooldowns), you at least start from a place of walking your avatar around the world and performing actions that make your wizard look as though you’re casting a spell.  But most DRPGs start from the position of “all you care about is the numbers, right?” The game is an abstraction unto itself.  It is a game that is made for people who like looking at spreadsheets (and I most definitely spent a decent chunk of time looking at spreadsheets).

Maybe that’s why they can get away with having character designs often clash with the art style of the environment and enemies, and sometimes with the art style of other party members. Several of the character portraits in the above screenshot seem like they were drawn by different people, and there are some moments that, when you look at them in a screenshot gallery, make you think that the characters just don’t belong in the world they’re inhabiting. And while the game is sometimes visually non-cohesive in a way that becomes really obvious if you pay attention, the truth is that when you’re actually playing the game, you’re not really paying attention to all that.

For another example of this, I like to turn to Stranger of Sword City, which has a really cool aesthetic that hits you from the moment you pick up the box (or look at the title screen):

The original release of the game, on Xbox 360, was remarkably consistent with this specific style. But the Playstation Vita version of the game (which was later ported to PC)  gives you an updated character creator and your options include, well, a variety of options drawn in a variety of different styles.

I just looked at the screenshots on the Steam store page for the Stranger of Sword City and, well:

Yes, that is a Prinny in the bottom left corner. Yes, Nippon Ichi did publish this game, why do you ask?

I think one of the reasons I don’t tremendously mind the aesthetic choice (or is it a lack of choice?) in a lot of DRPGs like this to randomly have anime-style characters (even when they might be dissonant with the rest of what’s on screen) that I don’t necessarily need my paladin’s look to really communicate that they’re a holy warrior or whatever; I really just want them to be eye candy that I can appreciate in the moments when I’m distracted from the numbers. But in the end, it doesn’t actually matter that much, because, well...

DRPGs feel like they are all about function over form. (The “looking at the mini-map and not the 3D environment” is a microcosm of a playstyle that’s encouraged by a design philosophy that seems to apply to nearly everything in a “good” DRPG.) This puts them in stark contrast to, say, Persona, which involves a ton of dungeon crawling, but relies heavily on the style (which includes the battle music, the stylish combat animations, and the quips that your characters make in battle) to make that part of the game interesting.

When you down all of the enemies in Persona, part of the “reward” for that comes from getting to deal a bunch of damage to all of the enemies, but a huge part of the reward also comes from the feeling of visceral pleasure that comes in the moment when Akihiko senpai says “I’ve been waiting for this!” and you smile and agree and say, “Me too, Aki. Now give me that shot that’s so iconic it became a meme template.”

I probably would not have made it through dozens of hours of crawling through Tartarus in Persona 3 if Mass Destruction weren’t such a banger of a battle theme. But I spent just as much (if not more) time dungeon crawling in Demon Gaze despite not having Lotus Juice’s rap verses soothing my ears during those battles, which I guess maybe stands as a testament to how good Demon Gaze was at making the game fun?

Ultimately, the abstraction that every RPG leveling system gets toward is “your character gets stronger.” Maybe DRPGs are better than any other genre at removing any abstractions that would serve as a barrier between you and that goal.  And the best DRPGs also give you formidable challenges that give you ample reason to want to become stronger: games like Etrian Odyssey are notorious for their difficulty. I feel the difficulty is a bit overhyped; much like my feelings on Dark Souls, Etrian Odyssey only really feels “hard” when compared with other games where the player is never put plausibly close to a failure state whereas Dark Souls and EO actually punish the player for making mistakes, and EO also has the “X-factor” of having enough variance (due to things like random crits) that you actually do want to give yourself a decent margin for error. Which is to say, EO is one of the RPGs where you actually care a lot about having a team that’s strong enough to kill a boss in 8 turns instead of 10 turns, since that’s 20% fewer chances for an unfortunate event to send you back to home base. Powering up your team in EO feels important and significant way more than it does in a lot of other JRPGs.

There is a very real sense in which the entire point of the obligatory spreadsheet companion is to aid you in your quest to become the strongest you can be by breaking the game somehow. The thing I do remember about Demon Gaze (not concretely, but in the abstract) was that there were some item/class combinations that were wildly better than the alternatives. Some might deride this as poor balance, but in my eyes, “breaking” a game in that way is really more akin to “solving” it, in the same way that one might “solve” a puzzle. I did it: I found right combination of skills and items to trivialize the game’s difficulty! Huzzah! In a “well-balanced” game where all items and classes were all carefully tuned to be equally viable, such a thing would not be possible. Thus, what others might consider “poor balance” in some DRPGs is actually an essential and core part of what compels me to spend time with those games.

I feel like these factors and more make DRPGs somewhat unique in a way that probably contributes to them reviewing poorly. For example, if you look among discussions on DRPG forums about recommended games, there seems to be universal consensus that Stranger of Sword City is a great game (with many praising it as the best DRPG they’ve ever played), but on OpenCritic, only 45% of critics recommend it, and I think all of this is perfectly encapsulated by a 6/10 review from TheSixthAxis:

Stranger of Sword City excels at one thing, and really flounders at the others. It’s a rewarding experience if you’re a fan of challenging RPGs and gameplay depth. If you’re a fan of well-written dialogue, engaging music or proper difficulty curves though…well….there are a lot of other video games out there that may suit you better.

And that’s the kind of thing that makes me want to locate a guide, crack open a spreadsheet, and start a new save file.

Anyway, the Stranger of Sword City is on sale for 80% on Steam right now. That’s $4, for a game that I paid $40 for when it first came out on Vita! I’m tempted to buy it again, just for the convenience of being able to play it on my monitor without having to dig around to locate my old Vita TV.