#sadder than planned

[weirdraccoon]

#9 please! <3

aahhh! didn't expect any haha. hope this is good. I worked on it since you asked and almost finished it on the bus on my way back home. it's kinda similar to this morning's adopted dark lord au post when i was feeling like shit, but i feel better now, a little less useless haha.

anyway, warning for emotional hurt?

also, I took liberties with the workings of a boggart, and there are spoilers for my fic that's a work in progress(?)

Mc is my Slytherin MC, I used her name

9. MC is about to face a boggart in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Write what happens when their attempt at the banishing spell doesn't work.

What you fear

Ishbel had witnessed a lot in her seventeen years. As such, she knew fear and also survival. She didn’t pretend to be a brave Gryffindor but she didn’t have a particular fear either. Not like Puffskein Dunkein or Mr. Moon who knew what they were afraid of and could easily name it and avoid it.

That was the main reason she was curious about the boggart lesson.

She spent the first half of the class wondering what she was most afraid of.

Spiders? Nah. Death? Not really. Her boyfriends’ lifeless bodies? Hum. 

While that could be heartbreaking and traumatic and probably triggering her to wholly turn dark, she didn’t think the boggart would pick that particular image.

And if it did, she wouldn’t be responsible for what she did to the creature.

Professor Hecat made them wait outside the classroom, claiming it to be a difficult lesson already, “there’s no need for an audience while facing your fears”. So, Ishbel, Sebastian, and Ominis rushed to sit on the sofa nearest to the classroom, laughing when Garreth and Leander fought for the couch on the other side.

Of the three of them, Ominis was first, and he came out with a troubled expression. Both his partners let out a sigh of relief when he said:

"I did it."

Sebastian kissed him, ignoring the catcalls from some of their classmates.

"I knew you would."

Ishbel grinned. She wouldn't prod, of course, and she was relieved that whatever Ominis saw he was able to repel.

Next was Sebastian, who also came out looking like he couldn't decide if he should grin at his accomplishment or be grim about whatever he saw.

"Guess neither of us knew what to expect?" Ominis asked.

"Not everyone's fear is as simple as a puffskein," Sebastian agreed. "Good luck, gorgeous."

Ishbel rolled her eyes at her extrovert boyfriend and squeezed the other's hand.

She walked into the classroom with unusual nerves. She felt anxious and couldn't yet imagine what she'd see.

How was she supposed to prepare a hilarious image if she didn't know what was supposed to change?

"Ready?" Professor Hecat asked with an encouraging smile. "No need to worry. I'll be here the whole time in case it goes wrong."

"Did any of the others fail yet?"

"Don't think about the others," Professor Hecat waved her off but also offered a small smile. "Between us, Mr. Hobhouse failed, and Mr. Prewett had to step back for a moment."

Ishbel winced.

"I'm ready," she breathed.

Professor Hecat flicked her wand, opening the wardrobe in the middle of the classroom.

Nothing stepped out. 

Professor Hecat frowned, confused, but stayed where she was, out of the boggart's way, near enough to examine and interfere if needed.

"What a disappointment," a voice said from the wardrobe. "Is this what you have become? Is this what that school turned you into? You'd be much better if you'd stay with me."

Ishbel tensed. She knew that voice. She often had dreams- nightmares about the owner of that voice.

"Father," she whispered.

Was he her worst fear? Really?

Well, she could agree with one thing: what a disappointment.

However, out of the wardrobe didn't come her father. The boggart, probably sensing it wasn't having the expected reaction, changed before finally stepping out.

She stepped out.

Or a version of herself, one that wore her father's old colors and a twisted smile instead of her usual teasing smirk.

Ishbel knew, theoretically, that boggarts could read the mind. Kind of. That's how they knew your worst fear. However, she often forgot that boggarts could also plant things in your mind. Sounds. Fake memories.

Especially if the victim was weak, or weakened enough by what they showed at the beginning.

Ishbel, taken back, let herself open to a mental attack.

Her mind was full of images of blood and torture and her ancient magic causing death and destruction. She saw herself standing next to the man that practically kidnapped her and trained her as his weapon. She saw Ominis and Sebastian hating her because she was evil and dark and tainted and she didn't care because all she needed was her father and her father wanted the world and power and she'd give it to him no matter what.

“You disappoint everyone who knows you. What would Professor Fig say? He died knowing you made the wrong decision. He expected better of you. And you let him down. You let everyone down. Including yourself.”

"Ishbel!" Professor Hecat pushed her behind her, and Ishbel blinked, coming out of the trance she was in, still hearing the echo of her own voice.

She noticed her nose was bleeding and the boggart was now a silly puppet with strings in place of arms.

Professor Hecat was watching her carefully.

"That was… unusual," she observed. "Seems like this boggart was holding back with your classmates. Why it acted like that with you, I don't know."

Ishbel knew. Ishbel knew that ever since she took it for herself, creatures, artifacts and even some spells had a weird effect on her. The magic was calling them. Tempting them to bond and take and become one with the energy they were essentially made of.

"Go," Professor Hecat nodded to the door. "I'll find another way to grade you. Or maybe you could try again later? Come see me when you're ready."

Ishbel nodded numbly and walked out of the room.

She ignored her boyfriends' calls, making her way to the Undercroft in silence.

"Ishbel, what-

Ominis interrupted Sebastian with an elbow to the ribs. He approached Ishbel slowly, his wand pulsing slower than usual as if calming her.

"What do you need?" Ominis asked softly.

Sebastian, still rubbing his ribs, stood next to Ominis, waiting for her instructions with an impatient air around him.

Ishbel kept silent, enjoying the sight of her serene boyfriend next to her energetic boyfriend. They were so very different but also so much alike.

And they loved her.

Didn't they?

"Just," she spoke and flinched at hearing how her voice cracked. "Hold me."

Sebastian jumped to action as soon as the words left her mouth. In a blink, she found herself on the sofa she transfigured a year before. Sebastian pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her body, making her practically lay on his chest.

Ominis sighed before following at a slower pace. He sat next to them, taking one of her hands in his and kissing her knuckles and her fingers.

“I don’t know what happened in there,” he said suddenly, voice calm and reassuring. “What you saw. But just know that I am very proud of you.”

Her breath hitched, and Sebastian tightened his hold around her.

“You’re incredible, darling,” Sebastian whispered. “You make us both proud.”

Ishbel let a couple of tears fall, burying her face in Sebastian’s shirt. She tried to tell herself that the boggart lied. That it was simply doing what it did best. That it showed her fear and not reality.

But its voice- her voice was still echoing inside her mind, calling her worthless.

[chocostrwberry]

Just wondering, but do any relatives of Marinette remember her after her whole sacrifice?

Like they weren't watching the news at the time/were asleep when her & lila's final showdown occured, would they still remember her or is she like madoka & all memories of Marinette dupan chang got erased?

YKNOW FUNNY THING-

THEY WILL.

I haven’t really talked about this, but i suppose this ask is the place to do it.

Take Gina. She could have been out travelling when it happened. I have POSSIBLE scenarios for this:

Her miracle cure erases all evidence of her existence while it rebuilds Paris. Gina and other relatives would still remember her, but they’ll end up looking crazy and be VERY confused.

OR

The city ends up mourning this sort of “Jane Doe” and sets up a mini memorial for her to honor Ladybug’s sacrifice and commemorate the day.

Maybe a combination of both?

But I think Gina would be the one to tell Tom and Sabine that they did have a daughter, and connect that maybe what happened with the SentiQueen and Ladybug had something to do with the fact they can’t remember her.

In the end, even though they have virtually no recollection of her existing in their lives, Gina and other relative’s testimony (and evidence of Marinette’s life via her design social media account, her room, etc.) would kind of cause them to realize something isn’t right.

I think it’s like, the missing memory of having a child would be hard for them to deal with. Tom and Sabine have stories from relatives and family friends and baby pictures/family photos they don’t remember taking. Her family wouldn’t even know what happened to her too, so Marinette’s parents have to live with the fact that they lost the daughter they never knew they had.

Alya and Nino might have pieces of her scattered around, but they wouldn’t be able to connect it to Marinette. Adrien would have that feeling of losing someone close to him, maybe forever? But then he’d not know the reason why.

[gydima]

[combinado]

🎵 Hajime Mizoguchi - Keel

[owlyflufff]

need to go and rewatch haikyu!! getting into bsd and jjk was the worst decision of my life actually TvT

[sfsolstice]

as i sip on the rest of the coffee you left a kiss left of you heaven, heaven, heaven

[smidgen-of-hotboy]

Out in the Cold Field, pt. iii

Hello Travelers. conversations are had, choices are made, the chips are down. @ananxiousgenz @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @urjover @one-joe-spoopy @waters-and-the-wilde @demonic-panini @the-private-eye

“Once, there was a king who the oracle told would die at his son’s hands. The man, Laius, wanting to outrun his destiny, ordered his wife to kill their child. Jocasta couldn’t bring herself to do that, and instead abandoned him at a farm. 

“The boy grew up, and the oracle forewarned that he would someday kill his father. Oedipus grew afraid. He left his family wanting to outrun his destiny. When he encountered King Laius, the King mocked him. Outraged, Oedipus killed him.”

“I don’t like this story, Papa.”

“It’s important that you learn it though…  A sphinx arrived and started attacking the kingdom. Without a King, Oedipus stepped forward to conquer the beast. He solved her riddles and she deferred to him. In honor of her defeat, the kingdom’s widowed Queen-Consort was set to marry Oedipus, crowning him the new King.

“The day of their wedding, the oracle congratulated Oedpius on fulfilling the prophecy. Confused, he asked her for clarity. The truth came to light: Jocasta was his mother, the late King Laius was his father, and Oedipus had fulfilled the prophecy. Distressed about the news, Jocasta threw herself from a cliff.”

“...and Oedipus?”

“Would gouge his eyes out and live in exile.”

“This story makes me sick, Papa.”

“Yes, well… there are lessons here. Like: you cannot change fate. You cannot outrun destiny…”

“You can’t trick death.” 

“Precisely, солнышко моё.” 

The blizzard doesn’t let up for another few days. By then the frostbite runs its course and Buddy is able to sit up in the cot with minimal assistance. Jet is mostly quiet coming and going with small bits of meat to roast over their tiny flame. M’tendere lingers around longer, plucking notes on their guitar, making idle chit-chat to pass the time. The fire that they stole burns bright. Buddy loses hours staring into it thinking about what would happen if she stuck her hand in. 

The news of her father’s death settles in over the week. Finding a home in the aching cavity already carved out of her chest. She didn't particularly love Ol’ Palomine, but he was her father. And he was the only parent she could remember. He made sure she had access to an education, food, and shelter. Whether she chose to listen to him or not was not his concern. The point was that she had the choice and opportunity. 

And now– he's gone. Dead. And tried to bargain for his life with hers. Palomine was always trying to teach her something, always trying to instill that she had a choice in how she lived. But it seems that that is where his lessons end. Buddy Aurinko only has choices in life, but in matters of death that belongs to her father. How cruel. And dishonorable. Unbelievable. Predictable. How very like Palomine Aurinko. He'll never have to answer for any of his crimes. Leaving behind his daughter to pick up the pieces, and clean up all his mess. What are the odds that there’s even anything left for her from him anyways?

It’s unfair how the dying can leave the living with all the work. It’s unfair that she has to do it all alone. And each time she thinks this, Buddy walks herself back into pointless circles. It should have been her. It should have been her that went to Hadestown. It should’ve been her that died out in that cold field. It should’ve been her bargaining for her life for Palomines. If it was her choice, between walking away and living, and sticking knives into her eyes and walking away– she’d pick the knives. 

The week ends, the blizzard eases up, and the road to Hell has vanished. Buddy is able to sit up only with minor difficulty. She loses fingers and toes (an “inevitably” as Jet put it) and there’s persistent numbness to half her face (a “blessing” as M’tendere put it). And after one day of excruciating pain trying to move her joints and pace the cabin, she was ready to move on and give up. 

“You cannot.”

“But why?” She sits on Jet’s stool while he and M’tendere pack their things away and tidy the cabin. They mentioned that it belonged to some Hanataba. Whoever that may be if they even exist. “If I die now, it’d be saving you two a lot of time! We’re right around the corner from Hadestown. Shortest trip of your lives, and if you ask me, I’d be doing you both a favor if I–”

“You just can’t. End of discussion, Buddy.” Jet’s voice is firm. M’tendere slings their guitar on their back and winces. They give Buddy a sympathetic smile. She rolls her eyes and picks at the wool scarf they loaned to her. She misses her old one. 

It isn’t fair that Jet and M’tendere can go to Hadestown whenever they please and she can’t. It isn’t fair that they won’t take her there themselves. And it isn’t fair that Jet won’t let her die. At least, not yet. 

With a heavy sigh she pushes off the stool and stands. She rubs one hand across her numb face and tightens the scarf around her neck. They talked the night prior about what they were going to do. After having the same argument about Buddy dying, Jet refusing to let her go, and M’tendere holding silence occasionally humming a tune, they pivoted to talking about today. The dreaded conversation of what comes next?

Preferably, Buddy did not plan ahead. She did not plan to be alive this long. She made plans of course, but not plans in case she didn’t die because someone and his Associate came along to save her from dying. 

It’s unfair because he took that choice and those plans away from her. The least he could do was give them back. Jet refused, so they turned to making plans.

The plan for now was to go back to the bar Palomine run. An old, run down establishment. The Lighthouse. The last bar, this side of nowhere. Palomine had… interesting naming and teaching conventions. 

“Are you ready, Buddy?” Jet carefully collects the fire from the Cabin’s hearth into a small, dusty lamp. He closes the glass door and looks up at her. M’tendere shifts side to side with their head down turned. They’ve been awfully quirt since last night. Saying little more than a mindless agreeance to follow her and Jet. Jet didn’t seem pleased about this, but getting a good read on him was hard to do to begin with. 

“Cred for your thoughts, Darling?” 

M’tendere glances up and flashes a brief smile. “I’m just thinking about all the walking we’ll have to do. Through all this snow… trying to keep the fire lit, fending off thieves… And long term effects of frostbite–”

“I can worry about myself just fine, Darling.” M’tendere snaps their head up. They blink a few times while Buddy leans back straightening her spine. “I am perfectly capable of worrying about my health on my own, thank you M’tendere, but if I am one of your concerns then worry not. I’m fit as a fiddle.” She smirks adding, “And whoever said anything about walking?”

“How else would we reach The Lighthouse?” She turns to Jet with mischief in her eyes. He visibly swallows. Her lips curl. 

“A la Carte Blanche, of course.”

Buddy takes the first step outside, Jet and M’tendere right on her heels. She asks for a compass and both present her with one. She takes M’tendere’s and finds which direction is East. They start walking. 

Hours pass by. The cold nips at Buddy’s cheeks and nose. She loses feeling in the numb half of her face and jolts of pain jump up her heels, running up her legs, and into her hips. Walking is chore. Breathing is a chore. She glances down at her hand clutching the compass and frowns seeing her fingers turn pale and almost bone white. She rolls the sleeve of her coat down and marches forward. 

They reach the harbor town soon enough. Once upon a time the Cerberus Province was a bustling harbor. Ships docked so tightly packed together. Some even anchored off in the distance. The houses were small, but brightly colored. Painted blues, greens, orange, and pink. The tracks to Hadestown ran right through here. Children used to play on them every day. It didn’t matter how tired the people were or how starved they became in the middle of winter, they were happy.

Once upon a time, Buddy had ventured here with the love of her life. They smuggled food across Hellas Basin and distributed it to the poor families. Many tried offering them creds as payment. Few even showed them the marked graves of their lost loved ones. A marked grave alongside the tracks was not an uncommon sight. The sheer amount of the ones in the Cerberus Province left unmarked was what stuck with her. 

Today, there are no children playing on the tracks. The tracks are buried under two and a half feet of snow. The houses are shuttered with wooden planks. Each grave left to decay in the winter. A single ship remains docked in the harbor. Not a bird sings. All the life has been sucked out of the Cerberus Province. 

Buddy tosses M’tendere their compass back as she heads for the boat. 

“Uhh– Buddy, what are you doing?” M’tendere trails behind her and Jet behind them. They watch as she stomps down the pier knocking snow from her boots and into the water. 

“Trying to find my plank.” She looks back at them, red-orange hair whirling around her like a storm. “Won’t you be a dear and be useful and help me find it?” 

“Your plank?”

She frowns, setting a hand on one hip. “Yes, Jet, my plank.” She gestures to the boat. “This is the Carte Blanche. My ship.” If she takes immense pleasure in the slack jawed expression M’tendere has and the quiet amusement Jet withholds, it is an open secret that she will happily recount that night.

“Come along now. We don’t have all day I’m afraid. We’re burning daylight, and daylight is a precious resource these winters.” 

She resumes looking for her plank alone. Jet joins her and is the one to find it buried deep under the snow. Together they steady it for M’tendere to board first, Buddy second, and Jet last. The boards back beneath her feet, her knees bend and body sways. It feels natural to back on board. “Oh I missed you, old friend…” She runs a hand along the railing and sighs. It isn’t fair. It should be her and Vespa making this return trip home. Instead, she’s making it with two strangers and a fire she somehow trusts more than them.

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

surprise, bet you weren't expecting THIS

ok but real this is technically just a test. wasn't actually aiming to really make this lmao, but things lined up and i realized this sounded good actually so i was "hmm maybe i should post that." idk if i'll make a video for this so for now just take the audio ig.

VSQx by Hatsune Dan, distributed by Yumeko. Some minor tuning edits by me. Mixing also by me. Original song by wowaka.

[moonsanoverthinker]

TMA SPOILERS // MAG 200

I wrote this based off a comment I saw on TikTok about Sasha and Tim being there during MAG 200! (Here’s Sasha’s POV)

And now onto Tim’s! (And for @look-at-those-niceass-rocks to be super normal about, although my tone reading isn’t great so I do hope you enjoy it!)

(Also hypothetical question, should I put things like this on ao3 as well? Because I’m unsure / don’t know how ao3 works for uploading things)

The two of them watched as he readied the knife. Watching as they pleaded and begged with each other,as they stand within touching distance but never being able to hear a word. Tim just stared his eyes flicking between them both, never settling on one of them for longer than a few seconds. And then he felt Sasha take his hand, giving him a reason to look away. He looked at her, only now noticing how tears streaked down his face as he watched hers fall. She smiled at him and he smiled back, it almost felt like old times. He watched as she tilted her head towards the huddled pair and he nodded slightly in return as they made their own silent agreement. They squeezed each other’s hand, smothering the finality with a single comforting act. Tim placed his free hand on Jon’s shoulder, gripping it firmly as his mind raced with a thousand different thoughts and a hundred different feelings. He saw glimpses of those early days of working in the archives, how mundane he thought everything was, how he’d always complain but now he’d give anything to go back. He looked at Sasha and smiled, remembering all those excuses he’d make so he had a reason to talk to her. He then remembered what he’d seen, that Thing that had her name but not her face. He hated that he didn’t notice. He felt his grip tighten on Jon’s shoulder, knowing that it didn’t matter how hard he squeezed, Jon would never know he was there. Tim still held on hard, knowing he could push his fingers into Jon’s skin without him ever feeling it. Yet he couldnt bring himself to do it, he wanted too, but here was something holding him back. He wished things couldve been different, for him, for her, for all of them. For Danny. He smiled as he remembers those childhood summers where they’d spend hours in that makeshift garden den, the sun warm and their smiles wide. Tim’s own smile quickly faded as he watched his brother’s childhood face, twist and contort until it is nothing but crudely stuck on features that don’t quite fit. He shook his head and the memory disappears, another one he’ll never quite be able to recall no matter how hard he tries. He hates that he can’t remember. Tim squeezed her hand harder, he can feel her bones shifting but he keeps squeezing, never wanting to forget again. He keeps his eyes focused on the three, he had so many things he wanted to say but the one thing he wished he could do, was remember them. He’d anticipated some kind of pain or sensation, like the first time but this time there was nothing.

[ohemaa-warrior]

.

[lighthouseas]

haven't done a miwip wednesday in far too long so hello. have this

context: they're in college, mike went through a breakup and he is not coping well

[dangerliesbeforeyou]

still thinking bout that ghosts finale and like look regardless whether you liked it or not, i think you have to agree that it was really fucking DUMB that alison and mike decided to move when they had a new born BABY lol

having a baby is already a stressful situation, and then you throw in The most stressful thing (moving house) into the mix i'm just like ????? that's so dumb that's so DUMB lol

[winepresswrath]

being invited out to something you actually want to do after three days of constant socializing on a family trip the day before nye is basically like saw. what will I do?

[lavenderteacat]

honestly at this point. it feels like the difference between s1 and s2 of link click is that Everyone Mattered in s1 and s2 is just. determined to be some kind of cop show. like what the hell

[br1ghtestlight]

chapter eight of my zeke fanfic will probably be the saddest thing i write its going to be interesting bcuz im not great with angst but at least i have lots of experience with this particular topic FJDMDJDJDJSJSJDJ

[diduthinkihadforgotten]

i was working on a playlist for you. it was gonna be a christmas present, cause your birthday is close to christmas and i had something else planned for your birthday.

it’s finished, by the way.