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serendipitous-mage · 8 months

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Commissions~

*Hello! I'm currently between jobs and actively looking, but no luck yet. The household is pretty hard up on funds right now and any additional income would be so very very helpful, especially with student loan repayments kicking in this month ;w;

*Regardless of the type of commission, I will gladly work with you throughout it and give updates/the opportunity to make adjustments if you would like!

Drawn

*The examples below range from about $4-$40 USD, ordered most to least expensive, all are based on complexity and time to complete. Prices are open to negotiate prior commitment, and can be made in multiple payments if needed! (some examples are a bit old)

*Anything that’s a meme or I highly enjoy the concept of doing is up for a potential discount :3

*If you’re interested, feel free to message me here or send me an email at [email protected] (anon asks are also enabled)

*Trigger Warning: One example has light gore/blood

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TRADITIONAL

~approx $35-$40 USD

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~approx $15-20 USD

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~approx $5-10 USD

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DIGITAL

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~approx $20-30 USD

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*approx $15-20 USD

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*approx $4-10 USD

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*NOTES -

*I can do lineless digital, but I’m not as practiced with it

*Traditional commissions will be scanned(or potentially sent in actual mail) for optimal quality. More colours/subjects will cost more

*Digital drawing is all around easier for me, and in general will be cheaper than an ‘identical’ traditional version would be

*As mentioned above, anything that’s a meme or I highly enjoy the concept of doing is up for a potential discount, more fun means its less taxing which means i can drop the price a little <3

*Will Draw:

-OCs

-AU characters

-Animals/fursonas/anthro

-Mecha

-NSFW

-Rough/simple animations and gifs (we can talk..)

*Won’t Draw anything:

-Explicit underage

-Discriminatory

-Taking place in hospitals/based around illness

*You can view more of my drawings at my DA Gallery or, for less polished but more religiously updated posts, here

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Written

*I always read a lot in school, and over the years that turned into writing stories. I have a few fanfics running currently, but any commissions would be given priority

*Thinking $5 per 500 words? May adjust depending on complexity/any needed research/longer pieces

*I’ve found I write best with fantasy genres, but you can absolutely commission something else! Some things you may want to consider:

-Is it original or fandom based?

-What point of view do you want? First, second(reader inserts), or third person?

-Past or present tense?

-Old timey speech or modern feel?

-Fluff, feels, something in between?

-Where are you in the spectrum of “can you relay enough information about what you want that I won’t need to overly interpret/fill in gaps myself” and “do you have an end goal or outline, and want me to make the rest happen” ? In other words, how much of this do you already know you want, and what if anything are you willing to let me interpret as the writer?

*Some excerpts:

First person

The brambles and lower branches suddenly appeared much denser than when we’d come from the other direction, and I kept as much distance from the two of them as I could. Their incessant arguing was still discernible, but not overly so.

We took our new torches–which seemed a little brighter than they should have been–and set off continuing our search for tracks, holding the fire as close as we dared to any brush and leaves that were near the forest floor. The quiet pulsing of the place at night was almost unnerving, and much different from our campout the evening before. Unseen critters chirped to a rhythm we outsiders weren’t aware of, falling silent if we at any point passed too close to them.

The eerie limbo was broken when I suddenly noticed a light coming toward us, followed quickly by Dagger who swooped low and squawked into my ear.

I batted him away and asked Dex if the light was Sara, but felt I already knew the answer.

“No,” he confirmed, squinting at it in suspicion.

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“Clariiisaaaaaa!” Sara shouted again, her voice tumbling across the vague grassy mounds that just barely made the classification of ‘hills’. “Clarissa!“

“Quiet down,” I finally warned her. “There’s more on the prowl after nightfall.”

She spun around to glare at me. “You say that like I don’t know. It doesn’t matter we have to find them.”

“We’re not going to find anyone if we’re dead.” I countered.

“Well what if they’re dead!?” she shouted.

I was a little taken aback at the sudden outburst, almost snapping at her in turn but pausing at what looked like a faint shimmer in her eye.

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It began to rain soon after we entered the wood. Drops fell in a constant, distant thrum on the leaves above, and it wasn’t long before a chill settled in around the trees. Heavy dampness filled the air as the rain increased, making its way below the canopy to turn patches of the ground to a sticky mush. I’d hastened my pace twice already, and the rain still continued to thicken. Mini waterfalls poured down here and there where the foliage had positioned itself just so, and the aftermath was sent streaming between roots and stone along my path. I gave up trying to keep my boots dry and went as quickly as I dared, careful with my step to avoid sprawling in the dirt.

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Reader Insert

There’s a soft *ping* and your body is suddenly overwhelmingly heavy, but luckily something else is holding your weight. You feel yourself rise a little into the air before being pulled forward, through the screen, through the words, through the space between, through the Barrier…

Into the Underground.

You notice you’re staring the ceiling. But not just any ceiling, New Home’s. And there are two faces looking down at you.

"ARE THEY OKAY??”

"they’ll be fine. just–“

"SANS,” he warns.

"a little down.“

"NNNNGH!! SANS YO–! HUH?” Papyrus turns to look back at you, as you’re practically dying of laughter on the floor.

You’re here! Actually here! They are talking and joking and breathing right in front of you…the skelebros, in the flesh heheh.

You tilt your head so you can Sans, tears in your eyes as you have a little difficulty breathing. He raises an eyeridge and grins a bit more than usual.

"it wasn’t that good of a joke…i like ‘em.“ he says lastly to Papyrus.

The younger brother mumbles something and reaches down to help you to your feet. Though they always seemed small, especially when younger, the monsters are around the same height as you. You wonder aloud how tall the king and queen must be.

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You freeze at the deep, rumbling voice approaching. Solid footfalls sound closer and closer still, and you find your gaze drawn to the large figure coming down the hall. You’re overwhelmed with the details. The apparent thick softness of fur, curved smooth horns threatening to reach the ceiling, and impossibly violet robe that drifted behind his gait.

"Oh, Howdy! Boys you should have told us you had, a…guest,” he stops, sudden distress plainly visible in his expression.

Your blood runs cold as you realize, you must remind him of them. He thinks you’re–

Chara?“ he falls heavily to his knees, tears streaming around his muzzle. His eyes search you over, filled with guilt, hope, disbelief, so many different emotions almost simultaneously. Papyrus runs up and tries to comfort him.

You lower your eyes and faintly shake your head, saying you’re sorry but, you’re not them.

The haze that you and the skeletons hadn’t noticed before returns to his expression. He squeezes his eyes closed and inhales deeply before looking back at you again.

"I, forgive me … what is your name?”

You find it a little difficult to speak, but manage to give him your name.

He smiles. “It is very nice to meet you.“

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Third Person

“Oh, oh dear.” Alphys was staring at the base of the chalkboard with a frown. “Has anyone seen the chalk?” She held up the stub end of one. It had an odd jaggedness on one side. “This is all that’s here…I’m certain there was still have a box left,”

No one answered, and Frisk certainly didn’t know, so they kept quiet as well.

The class crawled by about how one would expect it to. No one seemed particular enthralled by Alphys’ teaching, except for the girl in the front row. The bird Frisk was behind was ‘too smart’ to pay much attention, unless there was a point he wanted to argue. MK had a bit of a short attention span, and Temmie as well, but she seemed to be trying very hard. Probably wanted to get into a good college.

At some point in the lecture, Frisk stopped taking notes and looked through the pad of paper that had been in their desk. It had haphazard quotes and diagrams, some dated and some not, with some days considerably more organized and thoughtful than others. Frisk turned to the back and flipped the book around, making a new beginning to it. They started penning all their observations. Differences and similarities, people that they’d recognized, and every explanation they could think of that might be true of whatever had happened to them.

There wasn’t much in that column.

Before long a semi distant bell sounded, and Alphys released everyone for lunch.

“Is ours broken?” Frisk wondered aloud.

"Yo, you don’t remember?“ MK asked. “Susie totally busted the speakers last week! They still haven’t been able to fix it yet.” MK cocked their head. “Yo, Kris, you okay dude?”

“Fine,” Frisk answered briskly. “I um, I gotta talk to Alphy.”

MK raised an eyebrow and gave a tiny nod. “Uh, OK, sure…see ya.” They trotted off after the others to what Frisk assumed would be the cafeteria somewhere.

Frisk stayed in their seat a moment, wondering if this was really the best idea. Alphys didn’t seem to recognize Frisk as themselves either. And if they told her everything…they carefully closed the notebook and flipped it back the other way, then made their way to Alphys’ desk.

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The boy’s dark, messy hair completely shrouded his face from view at his stance. He stood behind one of the chairs, his head slightly bowed, gripping the back of the furniture as though it were his only lifeline to reality. The elder prince closed the gap between them with a few strides and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“I…“ he trailed off, suddenly realizing he had no idea how he could begin to comfort him. “I am not sure, what to say–”

“There is nothing to be said.” the boy interrupted, his words strained. He didn’t look up. “If I had not been born, you would all have rest now, to live normally upon the morn. Mother would really smile again. No one wou–”

“It is not your fault, brother.” The eldest countered firmly. “You know the rules…If not you, then someone else, it has naught to do with you yourself. We all were chanced to be a part of it as equally as any other. This was none of your doing.”

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A certain heavy, comforting quiet hung in the air. Stillness that was enhanced by the soft hum and crackle of the flames. Sans and Papyrus had both fallen asleep before the fireplace amid the excitement, much like the first day they had arrived. Toriel had woken early, along with her husband, and was now reading in her armchair.

There was a knock at the door.

Papyrus sat up quickly, eyesockets half closed. “WH-HUH..?” he looked up at Tori, who’s eyes were crinkled in quiet laughter, and suddenly realized who the knock must be. A tiny gasp escaped him and vaulted off Sans, to mild protest, running down the hall toward the door. He tried stopping but had too much speed and slid past his mark, scrambling to get back to where he’d tried for. Papy gave a little jump and pulled the handle down, staring up in awe.

“Ho ho howdy little one!” Santa laughed heartily, fully dressed in his red and white outfit and with an old sturdy sack over one shoulder.

Papyrus’ eyesockets were practically sparkling. “S-SANTA! SANS!! SANTA HERE!!” he ran forward and grabbed Santa’s large leg, hugging him tight.

“wow. sure has a presents.” Sans offered, coming around the corner. He gave a stretch popped a few bones. “snow real surprise, though.”

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Thank you for considering and looking over the page this far! Feel free to contact with any questions, and stay determined <3

#just me #commission #commissions #support #i been outa work for 6 months now and currently relying on friends to support me ;w;#prices can totally be open to negotiation i just had to put something on them lol #sorry for long posttttt #job searches are a fucking joke rn #undertale #eddie munson #stranger things #atlantis #grillby #fullmetal alchemist #hollow knight #if youre unsure feel free to message anyway! i dont bite i promise #i appreciate everyone who wants to but doesnt have the funds<3 #ive been in that same boat for years there are so many artists way more talented than me that i wana support so bad ;w;#anyway baiiiii ly

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tiny-cloud-of-flowers · 8 months

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i feel like you have an old oc or s/i that you never talk about anymore but still think about pretty often just for fun :]

(@sleuthinginstinct)

Hello, anon who is totally not Icarus =P

(source: this post by fkclou)

anonymously make an assumption about me and i’ll confirm/deny it - Some of the self-inserts on my carrd could almost definitely count for this one, hahaha (and because of that, I’m confirming this as true!)

I’ve talked myself into a tangle about this before, but I think my arguably oldest self-insert is Amber, one of my Skyrim self-inserts. I originally created her as part of a Minecraft RP, of all things - she was half-human, but also carried the blood of the Ender Dragon (giving her certain powers as a result), and the story was that she was seeking out other “half-Enders” like herself to stop the dragon invading the overworld, while the dragon was doing the same to try and get those same half-Enders on her side instead. I then started playing as her in Skyrim, because I realised that her concept of “sword-wielding girl with dragon blood fighting on the side of humans to stop the evil dragons” fit that game extremely perfectly. While I don’t really talk about her, especially not here since she isn’t connected to any of my F/Os, I do still think about her whenever I’m playing Skyrim, especially if it’s on her save file ^-^

(Incidentally, my other two self-inserts for Skyrim - Camille and Carmine - are also ones I think of as being pretty old. In Camille’s case, it’s because she again began as my character in an RP on a Minecraft server, though it was after the one I made Amber for - in it, she was a dream mage who gave the others support as they explored a mystical forest trying to save it from being tainted, only for it to have been revealed that she herself had been tainted all along. This origin is why she gets raised as an acolyte of Vaermina in Skyrim, since Vaermina is the Daedric prince of dreams. In Carmine’s case, she was established for Skyrim from the start, because I’ve played Skyrim since I was eleven years old and I liked playing as a Khajiit a lot because they’re cats - however, I didn’t really give her any particular lore of her own until after I started actively selfshipping and I decided she could be Inigo’s sister. Prior to that, she was just “how I played the game when I wanted to play as a thief”, not “my self-insert who I played as in the game” - which is why I don’t tend to think of her as the oldest self-insert. This logic is also true of Emily, my Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons self-insert - I’d played HMDS Cute since I was little, but I only actually gave her any kind of name or story as an outright self-insert after I started actively selfshipping in 2020, so I don’t think of her as being an old self-insert in the right way!)

My oldest OCs (that I can remember/still think about, at least) are my Splatoon ones, but I came up with those when I was in year 10, so they definitely came later than the fledgling self-inserts. However, a discussion about old self-inserts would be arguably incomplete without mentioning my main Kingdom Hearts self-insert, Aria - she was, I would say, the first instance of me actively giving lore and story to who I was playing as, from near the beginning of playing her game (so she was an outright actively-developed self-insert, and wasn’t just “how I played the game”). She’s also the first self-insert I used to actively express my love for a character (specifically Aqua), and establish story for a selfship with that character, in a way that wasn’t just “I like this character so I’m going to focus on them a lot while I play the game”. (This is why Aqua and Anti-Aqua are my only romantic F/Os where the start date of my selfship is before I made my first selfship blog in 2020). But I created Aria when I started playing KHUX in mid-2017, and the others already-mentioned existed prior to that, so she doesn’t quite count - and also, I talk about her a LOT, so she doesn’t count for your assumption for that reason either =P

..I don’t seem to be getting any less long-winded, do I? Apologies for writing so much; I wish it was this easy to write so much for all my lab reports and essays. Still, thank you for sending this assumption, and if you did take the time to read my very rambly answer, then a) thank you and b) I hope you enjoyed what you read!

#heart of the void #selfshipping #self-inserts #how is it two o’clock in the morning..#and how do I go about tagging this..#I haven’t used amber’s tag yet and I’m on my phone so I cannot type it in #self‑insert: illusory dreamweaver (camille)#same also with carmine’s #self‑insert: sprite‑seeking sweetheart (emily)#self‑insert: darkness' champion (aria)#of endless adventure (skyrim)#of lux and daybreak (union x)#out of the inbox #selfship asks #icarus tag!#I think I miiiight have to leave the last one for tomorrow morning if that’s alright

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ash-soka · 2 years

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31, 38, 42 for the oc ask meme?

31. Pick one OC of yours and explain what their tumblr blog would be like (what they reblog, layout, anything really)

this question made my go and make a whole fake blog for my first ever dnd oc, Myrah (pronounced meer-uh). this is her:

(picrew by nudekay)

her blog would look like this:

she'd mostly blog about fashion, interact with her handful of friends, and advertise her youtube channel. she's an elf bard in canon, so she would put a lot of violin content on youtube, and maybe the occasional harp piece.

if you want to see the kind of posts she'd reblog/her aesthetic, you can check out her blog here!

warning though, it only looks good in desktop, and i will also probably never post to it again

38. Which one of your OCs would be the best dancer?

Oh, Orpheus by far! He's spent 10 years as a professional dancer in his canon setting, and he always still dances in any au I put him in. And that was always the plan for him, right back to his earliest design concept—

^I almost never post my art so most of you have never seen this but here's my first ever drawing of one of my favourite boys! excuse how lq it is, this is just a screenshot, the original is on my old laptop, it was that long ago. He's evolved somewhat from this original concept, but he's very much still a dancer!

Orpheus is my water genasi bard OC from @literalpotatx's dnd campaign. Ash very graciously let me make him a dancer instead of a more traditional type of bard.

Orpheus joined a dance troupe when he was around 17 or 18, and within the next year or two they were invited to perform for the royalty of his home kingdom. He spent the next 10 years, basically the entirety of his 20s, as a dancer for the royal court of Pythos, so he's pretty good. I do have some unfinished art of him when he was first invited to the palace with the other dancers:

which i also posted here!

I flip flop on what styles of dance he'd like in a modern setting, I think he'd like the control that ballet requires you to have, but i could easily see him liking other styles as well. I keep coming back to these two videos (one, two) as possible dance inspiration for him in his canon setting! i think he'd strive to master a few different styles over time. sorry this got so long— my dancer oc is one of my favourites!

42. Which one of your OCs would be the most interested in Greek gods?

okay i really love this question, i can answer it in a few different ways,

1) if taken completely literally then, it's him again, my beloved Orpheus:

(picrew by baydews, colours slightly edited by me)

so. funny coincidence. my Orpheus is not the Orpheus of greek myth, I just personally love the myth of orpheus and eurydice and thought it would make a good name for a bard, even though my bard is a dancer. I named him that, and had him ready to go as a character the next chance I got to play someone new— so when I got invited to play in a new campaign, I decided to use Orpheus, and later found out this campaign would be incorporating Greek gods.

really funny to me how that happened. and the funniest part is that it happened AGAIN, another player in the same campaign decided to recycle her oc from years ago, named atlas, the next chance she got, and had decided to play as them before finding out this was a Greek gods campaign [doofenshmirtz "two nickels but weird that it happened twice" meme]

so, if i take "which oc would be most interested in greek gods" completely literally for their canon settings, the answer is Orpheus because those are the gods in charge of the world he lives in. funnily, if you'd asked this a few weeks ago i don't know if i could have said as much dkhgbdfkhb. yes, the Greek gods are real in the world he lives in, but. Orph didn't really care about them in more than a vague sense until Thanatos did him a favour last session dkghbdk. Thanatos isn't even the first god he's met, he's met Hermes and been in the vicinity of Artemis, he just wasn't that impressed before now i guess kdhfgbdk. to be fair, idk if he fully realised hermes was a god, and he didn't properly meet artemis. He's also met some? demi-gods I guess? it's complicated to explain, but I think one of them kind of did also put the fear of the gods into him a little bit so. he does care more now because of all that's happened. and i think that counts as being "most interested" out of all my ocs in their canon settings.

2) if taken in a. kind of literal but kind of meta way? it's complicated hold on.

if I had a nickel for every time a friend told me about their idea for a modern greek gods au, and let me come up with a concept for how my personal favourite god would fit into that setting, i'd have two nickels. which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

but anyway, my favourite of the Greek gods is Thanatos, the god of death. i just really like psychopomps, and although he's nearly always present in some way or another, he's rarely actually mentioned, which basically makes him free real estate for this kind of thing.

(was I smug that orph had a really positive interaction with my favourite god so i could let my favouritism bleed into him? yes, thank you for asking!)

and i always say the same thing for him in a modern setting as a human, he'd be the hard working employee of a funeral home that Hades owns. his twin Hypnos works there too, mostly on reception but he helps his brother out when he's not sleeping on the job instead. back in like, 2018, a friend asked what i'd do with him and this is what i came up with, and i've stuck with it. (also a good excuse to bring up any knowledge i've retained from watching askamortician over the years).

also the part of my brain that wants me to go "i liked it before it was cool" is forcing me to say: i've never played that hades game. this is just from my own interpretation

i've been thinking about it recently because a different friend asked a few weeks ago, which prompted me to actually do designs for Thanatos (left) and Hypnos (right) in this setting.

(picrew by cosmitasia)

so in a weird way i think this version of Thanatos who's basically an oc would count as "most interested in the greek gods" because basically every other character we worked into this setting that he'd be interacting with is another greek god, lmao.

3) but, if i take this the way i think the question actually intended, as in, in a modern setting, which of your OCs would be the most interested in Greek Mythology, then the answer changes again!

In that case the answer is probably my mc for the exile, Dimitra "Mimi" Vamirel, she really loves reading and I think she'd take a real interest in mythology in general in a modern setting! i'll add a picrew of her here too:

(picrew by djarn)

thank you so much for sending this!!!!! 💖💘💝💞 i appreciate the chance to talk about my brain blorbos

link to the oc questions, in case anyone else wants to send them!

i have 1, 2, 24, 33, and 44 sitting in my inbox though! i will get to them asap <3

#if this shows up in any tags i'm so SO sorry #long post #thank you so much for letting me talk about orpheus' dancing i love him so much #anonymous #ask #my ocs

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seeminglyseph · 10 months

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I’ve been sick today and yesterday and I don’t know where the days met, everything’s a little fuzzy, but somehow I’m watching a video about Ken Penders’ Sonic the Hedgehog and I really do feel like. I wish someone would cover it from the POV of someone who read the comics like…. Before the lawsuits and the memes. Like everything feels like “so I heard about these crazy comics and looked them up, this is crazy!” But like.

I know I wasn’t the only kid reading these fucking comics. There were other people who read these books and liked these characters, and cared about the plot lines maybe because they were 10 and didn’t know how storytelling was supposed to work. It’s one thing to be 35 and go “wow that’s fucking stupid” and another thing to be a literal small child, the target audience for Sonic the Hedgehog and be like “oh, shit, this series is cool!” Like yeah of course I didn’t know what Lemon SunDrop poisoning was as a literal 9 year old, but I remember reading a comic about the Chaotix solving a Noir style murder mystery so many times the pages fell apart.

That’s almost part of the Penders betrayal, like… yeah as a child I really enjoyed some of this stuff, and now it’s gone and trashed because he literally pulled the Sonic OC “my original character do not steal” on everything he ever contributed to a medium that is by its nature collaborative.

I grew up with a hyphenated name, this may seem like a nothingburger concept to have a problem with, but it’s also a situation where a lot of people decide either that they know better than you what your name is and will correct you, or they will simply ignore any information you give them about your name and just kinda call you whatever part of the hyphenate they like best. Julie-Su was a character whose name was not at all like mine, but also had the hyphenate that made my name so complicated. It feels stupid, but she was like my favourite character as a little kid, this obscure comic character no one knew about. But it’s all messed up now.

Maybe I should try and write an essay one day…

Edit: it should be noted like… I don’t like Penders, I don’t know a lot about his politics but it’s mostly iffy or bad what I do know. And a lot of the comics did go off the rails hard. I enjoyed the comics as a child, in part because as a child I could buy Sonic comics at the 7-11, and that meant I could actually buy Sonic comics. The world was different in the 90s man. I didn’t have information about creators, I read a comic book and then ran around creating an imaginary adventure about being a freedom fighter animal person. Like. I didn’t have the internet at all period at the time. I didn’t have a computer.

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ethereousdelirious · 2 years

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Heeeellpp my fill for day 9 of Whumptober took over my brain and now I have 9k words for a pairing only I care about 😵‍💫 (the prompt was "home remedy" but I lost track of that almost immediately)

Fandom: Pok.émon D.PPt

Pairing: One-sided Sn.azzyShi.pping (that's C.ynthia x L.ucian)

Warnings: N/A

Tropes: Fevers, psychic nosebleed/light psychic whump, caretaking

Summary: A feverish L.ucian ignore his own needs in an attempt to help out in the aftermath of a natural disaster, only to become a disaster in his own right. Cy.nthia catches him as he falls.

Futher notes under the cut

Note: IDK how many of you are deep into Pokémon but I completely made up this whole psychic whump scenario thing. There's not really any internal logic to it lmao my only thought process was "psychic fatigue HOT"

Note: The named Rangers are not OCs, per se, like they are original characters in the most literal definition of the word, but they're not Special, they're just some guys I made up for plot

Note: "Guardians" is used as an exclamation bc I read this great SubMas fic where they used "Dragons" bc of Zekrom and Reshiram and I was so taken with that as a world building concept that I decided to steal it. Sinnoh has the Lake Guardians, so that's what I went with.

Note: This is a gift to my 13 year-old self. She loves it.

The bitter wind of Snowpoint cut straight through Lucian's clothing, aggravating all the aches he'd been peacefully sleeping off not 10 minutes before. The shrill emergency alarm still rung in his ears: 'Report to the Snowpoint Pokémon Center immediately.' Not enough time to dress properly, let alone take something to combat the awful pounding in his sinuses. He sniffled and stepped into the Pokémon Center. The warm cut through him like a knife, blocked ears ringing with the noise of the automatic doors.

"Over here, Lucian." Cynthia's voice. Probably saw him floundering by the door in his hoodie and fogged-up glasses and took pity on him. He hurried over and flopped down in an armchair. His head throbbed at the change in elevation, the whole room shimmering and rocking like a mirage.

Cynthia and Candice sat next to each other on a loveseat of thick, easy-to-clean vinyl that squeaked with every little motion. Hopefully they didn't fidget overmuch. One more stressor and he was at serious risk of falling apart.

Foolishly, Lucian barked out a sneeze and caught in the crook of his arm. Stupid. His coat, clumsily zipped up over his hoodie, was waterproof. He should have gone for the tissues in his pocket. But it was too late now. He dabbed at the wet spot on his sleeve with stiff, cautious motions, not looking up to see if anyone was watching.

"We're just waiting on Flint," Cynthia said calmly, as though no time had passed since Lucian had sat down. Maybe it hadn't. But Guardians, it felt like it had been hours. His nose felt wet. He flopped back in the chair, angling his face upward in hopes of slowing the drip. Cynthia was pale and calm in the harsh light, dressed down in athletic tights and a long black peacoat that stopped just short of her ankles. Her hair clung to the rough wool with no barrettes to hold it back and obvious tangles stuck out in loops around her neck. Lucian's hair must have looked the same under his beanie, if not worse.

Candice, Aaron, and Bertha all wore a similar mess of loungewear and winter gear and all wore the same look of bleary grimness. It had to have been around four in the morning now.

The doors hummed. Flint came in with blithe greetings, too boisterous for the early hour and too cheerful for the circumstances.

Cynthia wasted no time; she always was ruthlessly efficient. "There was an avalanche near Mount Coronet's summit. Ordinarily, this wouldn't be a problem, but Candice received a report from some Rangers stationed nearby that it disturbed a herd of Piloswine and Mamoswine. They're heading this way. It's too late to head them off completely, but if we can make it to the Temple, we should be able to steer them away from the town proper."

Lucian sneezed again. His throat stung.

"Man," said Flint, stretching out his arms, "if I'd known this League stuff involved taking on Ranger duties, I might have re-thought my career choice."

"Please, we all know you don't think," Aaron said.

"Just for that, I'm partnering with Bertha on this little expedition." Flint got to his feet and looked expectantly at Cynthia. "Where do you want us?"

Cynthia stood as well and made for the door, motioning for everyone to follow. "We'll fan out by the Temple."

The cold air pinched Lucian's earlobes and nose and the powder snow crunched under his boots, centimeters giving way beneath his weight. He sniffled and his sinuses throbbed, protesting the increased pressure.

"I'll partner with Candice," Cynthia continued, leading them with long strides. Her breath came out in plumes of fog. "That leaves Aaron and Lucian."

"Nice." Aaron reached out to fist bump Lucian, his easy grin shining under the light of the moon. At least it was a clear night. The thought of herding a bunch of rampaging Piloswine through a snowstorm was unbearable.

Lucian's nose continued to run as they walked until he had to sniffle with every inhale, which in turn brought him dangerously close to a sneezing fit. It was no good. He'd have to wipe his nose.

The tissues he'd stuffed into his jacket pockets were in a sorry state, but that was alright. Better crumpled-up tissues than a night of rubbing his nose along the collar of his hoodie. Still a disgusting thought, but significantly less humiliating than sniveling like a child in front of his coworkers. He shuddered at the thought of it, although that might have been the cold wind working its way across his neck, since he'd forgotten his scarf.

"You okay?" Aaron asked in a low voice.

Lucian was obliged to wipe his nose again before he could answer, nonchalantly tucking the sullied tissue away in his other pocket as he did so: "Fine," he said. Ouch. In the dry air, the word stung his throat.

"Okay," said Cynthia. Probably her polite way of telling them to focus. Lucian coughed and rolling fog spilled from his lips, sparkling in the moonlight just like the snow underfoot. "We don't have a lot of information from the Rangers, but it seems—" A cry ripped through the still air, a quiet rumbling rattling Lucian's teeth. Mamoswine. They were rare in the wild but not unheard of. "Fan out. Direct them toward Lake Acuity."

They split up. Lucian found himself walking ahead of Aaron. Probably not the best course of action, not when his head felt so foggy and congested that all he wanted was to face-plant in the snow. At least numbness would be better than this all-consuming pressure in his forehead. Though the cold would really only make him feel worse in the end, hard as it was to imagine a reality where that was even possible. Ugh. He wiped his nose again, unable to bring himself to blow it properly when Aaron was so near.

"What's the plan?" Aaron asked. Oh, right.

"Um," said Lucian. Synapses fired somewhere deep within the brain fog, gummed up and stuttering. "Uh." Bertha's Piloswine had recently evolved, hadn't it? They really should have asked her what to do.

Too late now.

The rumbling beneath their feet had picked up. It intensified slowly, then. Dangerous. If they didn't pay attention, they could end up in serious trouble.

In the distance, Flint's Rapidash made bright patterns with its flames. That was something. "I think it would be best not to attack them," Lucian said, hating the miserable scrape of his voice across his throat. Congestion deadened his vowel sounds to a thick slur. "Maybe if we used bright lights— We'll have to do a bit of experimenting on the fly. If they're scared of the lights, we point them one way. If they follow them, we aim."

"Sounds good," Aaron said. He released Vespiquen as the rumbling picked up to a roar, the wall of pine trees shuddering. Frantic Piloswine and Swinub cries blurred into the sound until it was nothing but a tidal wave of overstimulation.

"Here we go!" Lucian shouted, releasing Alakazam. Then he sneezed.

"Power Gem!" Aaron called. Perfect timing— The first Piloswine emerged from the trees and screeched, banking away from the sudden light.

"Nice one," Lucian rasped. His throat really didn't appreciate it, ripping his voice to shreds when he tried to call to Alakazam. It used Energy Ball regardless and Lucian sighed. Thank the Guardians for Psychic types.

The plan worked better than it should have, considering they'd worked in three little groups with no communication between them. Chalk it up to that elusive Elite Four synergy.

Every swallow was agony, Lucian's abused throat having not appreciated all the shouting he'd done in the cold, dry air. "Good work," he said, hissing and rasping like an angry Arbok.

"Ooh, Lucian." Aaron made a face. A breeze washed over them both, stinging at Lucian's exposed skin. The numb ache hinted at potential frostbite, as did the urgent pink of Aaron's cheeks. "You sound rough."

Lucian sneezed in triplet time and palmed his forehead. Pressure behind his temples, beating like a particularly aggressive Belly Drum. The thick knit of his hat kept his squeezing from doing much good and his fingers ached inside his gloves. "-t's just… inside." He cleared his throat. "Get inside."

"Yeah."

They trudged back to where the others were waiting. At this angle, he could just make out the first rays of dawn peering over Mount Coronet, just a slight blue tinge to the otherwise indigo sky.

"Good work, team," Cynthia said, sounding just as wrung-out as Lucian felt. Her cheeks had gone ruddy with the cold, golden hair snarled from the wind.

"I hope those poor Piloswine are alright," Bertha said. "I'm sure they didn't mean any harm."

The conversation faded away on the walk back, existing only as murmurs at the periphery of Lucian's brain. It was like his ears had had enough— of the cold, of the congestion, of the cacophony produced by two dozen stampeding Pokémon.

The cozy warmth of the Pokémon Center seared against his skin. Bypassing the coffee station the nurse had set up while they were gone, he went straight back to his armchair and collapsed into it. His face hurt. No, everything hurt. His face just hurt the worst. And his nose was still running. Ah, to Hell with it. Clumsily, Lucian pulled off his gloves and yanked a few tissues from his pocket. He blew his nose as quietly as he could and Guardians, nothing so disgusting should ever feel so good. The perpetual irritated itch vanished, the constant dripping sensation at the tip of his nose. He got up to throw the tissues away, his whole body protesting the movement.

"Hey, Lucian." Aaron caught his eye. "You want some coffee? They have decaf."

"...you." Small cough. "No, thank you." Tea might be nice. Later. When he could move without feeling as creaky as the Old Chateau.

The sound of his mangled voice elicited a collective wince from all assembled. The intake of breath made his face burn.

"Oh, Lucian." He couldn't help the sweet frisson that ran through him at Cynthia's concerned gaze. Even her pity made his heart sing. "You're sick?"

Why did it feel like confessing to a crime? He hadn't been trying to hide it. But the simple act of nodding his head was equal parts shameful and liberating. Yes, he was sick and a little bit disgusting; he wasn't this sniffly and disheveled all the time, in secret. "A head cold," he rasped. He burned from the weight of all those eyes on him, and shivered because he really was quite cold at his core.

"Sit down," said Cynthia. "I know something that will help your throat."

They were murmuring about his health now, but his congested head was refusing to cooperate again, blocking his ears and sending waves of pressure-pain all through his nose and temples. He closed his itching eyes for some relief from the fluorescent lights and felt his posture slip.

"Are you awake?"

Stinging in the back of his throat, awful, thick saliva gumming up his mouth. Post-nasal drip, said some unhelpful bookish part of himself. Just another source of discomfort to add to his inventory. He pulled his hoodie up over his mouth and coughed until the itch abated.

All the while, Cynthia watched from her vantagepoint. Curiously, at eye level. Oh, Guardians. The floor. She was kneeling on the floor beside him with a look of such ardent concern in her eyes it nearly made him sick.

"I'll take that as a no," she said, smiling a little. "Don't try to talk."

He nodded, blinking away tears. Somebody had draped a Pokémon Center blanket over him at some point. The pastel yellow covered his lap and, loath as he was to admit it, was quite cozy.

Cynthia handed him a ceramic coffee mug. 'I survived The Snowpoint Polar Plunge!' it proclaimed in faded cursive. "Try this. It should help your throat."

He raised an eyebrow at the milky liquid. Hopefully that looked politely quizzical and not rude, like he doubted her.

Cythia's smile took a turn for the mischievous. "Call it a home remedy." Oh, she was beautiful. "Oh, but before you try it, I want to take your temperature."

"...have one last… checked," Lucian said. Hard, painful swallow. His nose was starting to run again. "I didn't have a temperature earlier."

"I know, but…"

"You look like shit," Flint chimed in from somewhere. No point wasting energy lifting his head to look.

"You don't look very well," Cynthia agreed diplomatically.

Arceus on high, what did he look like? He cleared his throat. "Is it the hat? I knew I wasn't a beanie person, but that s… seems harsh."

"Actually, can you pull that up a little?" Cynthia brandished the thermometer she'd been holding low by her side. Conical tip. Tympanic thermometer. Lucian sniffled and coerced his stiff fingers into moving so he could push up his beanie. The sensation of hard plastic against his ear made him shudder and the beep of the thermometer made him flinch. Hm, maybe he did have a temperature. He wasn't usually this sensitive. "38.2," Cynthia said, touching her ice-cold fingers to his neck. He flinched again, so violently a few drops of Cynthia's questionably milk-based concoction sloshed onto his snow pants. "Oh, I'm sorry! Did I scare you?"

Lucian shook his head, wary of the coughing fit lurking in the back of his throat. It dislodged itself with his next breath anyway, just to spite him, and he ducked his head. The smooth handle of the mug slipped out of his hand, probably Cynthia taking it away so he didn't make a mess. "-haps I sh… home," he rasped before anyone else could say anything. "Think…" He coughed roughly into his fist and his warmth breath cascaded over the back of his. Oh, that's right, he'd already taken his gloves off. Awful. Coughing only sent a metallic spike down his throat and with a sigh, he sank back in the armchair and gave up on talking, instead lifting his hands to Cynthia.

She passed the mug back to him with a cautious smile and raised eyebrows. What did that mean? Few people had ever looked at him so tenderly, fewer still when he felt this grimy and embarrassed. He took a sip of whatever concoction Cynthia had whipped up. The taste was muted thanks to his congested nose, but what notes came through were sweet and rich. Milk and honey. It stung a little, too, and made his nose run. There was more in it, little flecks of red floating on the surface, but he was far too tired to figure out exactly what.

"Just sit quietly and drink that," Cynthia said, rubbing his shoulder. Her fingers made an awful scritching sound against the nylon of his jacket.

Lucian nodded, relaxing by degrees as the warmth of Cynthia's kindness washed over him.

He sat quietly while the others worked out what to do, listening through blocked ears. It was so hard to keep from nodding off and only the threat of spilling hot milk all over his legs kept him from slumping over where he sat.

Still… He really wasn't paying attention. The rhythm of their voices lilted and rolled and his whole face throbbed with pressure, congestion that blocked out the high frequencies of everyone's speech. Aaron's voice cut through it the easiest, but he didn't talk much, listening with an expression of intent concentration. He looked, as the rest of them did, pale and tired.

"Does that work for you, Lucian?" Cynthia asked, turning to him.

They all followed her gaze, albeit with polite, exhausted detachment. Not that it mattered. They could have all been glaring at this and he wouldn't have cared. He was too tired.

What had they been discussing? Something about structural damage, duties, Candice, lodging… Ah, there it was. The proposal had been to stay the night at the Snowpoint Pokémon Center in case any of the buildings and routes had suffered structural damage and further assistance was needed. Rescue operations, that sort of thing. Probably for optics more than anything. What could they do that a Ranger couldn't?

"Yes," Lucian rasped, staring at the coffee table in front of him.

Everyone got up then, so he followed suit and had to steady his legs against the armchair to combat the dizzying ringing that reverberated from ear to ear. Dampness gathered at the bottom of his nose and he sniffled.

Passing through a reality that shimmered and danced around him, he found himself in a dark, quiet room. When his eyes fell upon a twin bed, he wasted no time. He wrestled out of his coat, boots, and snow pants and his skin prickled at the change in weight and temperature and a deep shudder raced through him. With one miserable sigh to brace himself, he stacked up the pillows to support his head and crawled into bed.

In Lucian's dreams, something roared. He looked around for the source of the noise and glass shattered and his body lay flat and still.

Icy wind stung his exposed skin, his face and hands.

He opened his eyes and stared outward, unable to fully process the scene before him without his glasses. His head ached. The window had broken. Had he…? No. His latent psychic powers were not strong enough to wreak this kind of destruction.

But the fact remained. Something had broken the window, some dark hulking shape that blocked his view of outside, but not the flow of freezing wind.

He reached out for his glasses. His hand shook violently with the cold, so deep it made his bones ache. He had to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. Had his fever gone up? Or was it really that cold in here?

It was certainly cold enough to make his throat sting with every swallow, to draw tears from his eyes. With no tissues handy, he had no choice but to wipe his dripping nose on his sleeve.

"A-Alakazam," he croaked, his eyes glued to his crumpled snow pants.

The Pokémon materialized and, perceiving the glass on the floor, began to levitate.

"C-c-can—" Belatedly, Lucian pulled the covers up to his chin. Pain pulsed through his temples and Alakazam's eyes glowed blue. The glass shards on the floor (and something else, curious little shapes like black confetti) rose into the air and floated over to the wastebasket. Lucian ran a hand down his face and sighed. He'd have to get up.

Thankfully, hauling himself upright was more of a chore than a challenge. He wrapped the top layer of the covers, a thick quilt, around himself and peered into the wastebasket. Pine needles. That would explain the eldritch shape jutting through the newly-broken window. It was the very top of a pine tree.

Lucian stared at it. A few sneezes caught hold of him, three in succession. Instinctively, he reached for his pocket. The quilt slid from his shoulders

Right.

He wasn't dressed.

He rectified this with alacrity, eager for all the shelter he could get from the persistent cold breeze. Alakazam watched but did not reach out again. That was good. Attempting to communicate with Psychic Pokémon was taxing at the best of times; he didn't even want to think about what it would do to him in his current condition.

Oh, and speaking of which— A coughing fit doubled him over, exacerbated by the cold air. The room— he should leave the room. Go home, go to bed.

Footsteps thumped in the hall. Lucian recalled Alakazam and stepped out to intercept the stranger, making sure to shut the door behind him.

"Mr Lucian." The nurse skidded to a stop in front of him, her eyes narrow, analytical. "Are you hurt?"

Standing disagreed with him, but it wouldn't do to lean on the wall and undermine his reassurances. "Unharmed," he rasped. "'I'm—" He turned away and cleared his throat, praying for the return of his usual clear timbre. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name last night." He needed to blow his nose.

"It's Angela."

He tried to smile at her, but his lower lip stung in several places where the skin split and he only managed to wince. "I'm unharmed, Nurse Angela."

She nodded shortly. "Let's keep it that way. If you'll come with me."

He didn't bother to argue. It hurt too badly to talk.

She led him back toward the lobby, taking a turn just before the reception desk. He lagged behind a little to better observe the small crowd beyond the reception desk. Three Rangers, attended by their partner Pokémon, paced the floor, steaming polystyrene cups close at hand. One of them caught his eye just as he turned away, and he was left with only the impression of a cocked eyebrow and sharp blue eyes.

Around the corner was a kitchen, cramped, but large enough to hold a small table and four mismatched chairs with just enough room to maneuver. "Sit here," said Nurse Angela, pulling out a chair for him.

Lucian obeyed, watching her closely. She was older, with a few silver streaks in her strawberry blonde hair. He had encountered this brusque bedside manner before. It was an attitude he could respect, though in his heart-of-hearts, he preferred a tender touch.

"Oran juice or Sitrus juice?" she asked, opening up the fridge.

Lucian had to cough before answering. "Sitrus, please."

She thunked the bottle onto the table in front of him. "You know the drill. Stay hydrated, avoid strenuous activities. Get home soon, before the Rangers get a hold of you; I know they're itching to boss around the great Elite Four. Just be sure to eat something before you go." She set a foil packet of analgesic pills on the table. "Take these after you've eaten."

"Y-yes," said Lucian, only just managing to avoid tacking a "ma'am" onto the end of it.

"Good." From her pocket, the nurse produced a familiar tympanic thermometer. "Hold still." This time, Lucian managed not to flinch when it beeped. "38.0," Nurse Angela said. She looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Don't push it today."

Lucian nodded, reaching in his pocket for tissues. He held them up to his nose but didn't blow, too attached to his manners and too distracted to question himself. So the Rangers wanted to speak to him? What could they possibly want? Between Cynthia, Flint, Aaron, Bertha, and Candice, they should have had plenty of support. Surely his presence wasn't so sorely needed.

"My shift is over," Angela said, catching his eye from the doorway. "I mean it, those Rangers will be all over you the minute I walk through the door. Don't let them push you around. You need to rest."

As though to drive home her point, Lucian's breath caught. Tears sprang to his eyes, and so he only nodded his acknowledgement, staving off the coughing fit until she was out of the room.

His cold, which had seemed so content to wreak havoc in his sinuses yesterday, was thoroughly in his throat and chest now. Fighting for composure, he drained the bottle of Sitrus juice in a few long swallows and rubbed the tears from his eyes with the palms of his hands. He'd already overdone it, no doubt, but it wasn't like he could just ignore an emergency summons.

"Hey." A masculine voice drew his attention. Lucian lifted his aching head and looked with heavy-lidded eyes at the Ranger who had caught his attention in the lobby.

It was immediately obvious the kind of man he was: brutish, bossy, insecure.

Snow caked his boots, yet his well-defined biceps were exposed, poking out of the fleece vest he wore. He looked at Lucian with real challenge in his eyes, the corners of his lips pulled down as though to hammer home that he had looked Lucian over and wasn't impressed.

Lucian pushed up his glasses. "Hello."

"You're Elite Four Lucian?" The title was clunky and rarely used and from this stranger's lips, smacked off skepticism and mocking.

"Yes." Lucian cocked an eyebrow right back. The Sitrus juice had taken care of some of the rasp in his voice, and he pushed a little harder to make sure that he was heard. "And you are?"

"Ranger Donovan." He finally smiled, revealing a chipped incisor that came down at a sharp angle. "Glad to meet you, Lucian. Have you eaten yet?"

"I haven't."

"Here." Donovan tossed something at him. It landed on the table with a thump. A granola bar. The label was shiny silver and read 'Geobar: Mountain Tuff,' with a picture of a scowling Geodude behind the text. "Eat up, but make it quick. We got a long day ahead of us."

Lucian checked his Pokétch. 9:12. "Forgive me, but I h-haven't, I—" A sneeze ripped through him, followed by another. He dabbed at his nose with a crumpled tissue from his coat pocket. The sneezes had felt like two small explosions in his head. Tears streamed from his eyes. "I haven't been briefed on today's situation. And, if you'll excuse my saying so, I'm not sure what kind of help…" He trailed off under Donovan's gelid glare. His arms were crossed now, biceps and deltoids bulging under the skin. With his mouth lulled back in a tight, shit-eating smirk, he towered over Lucian, who sat leaning with one arm braced against the table.

Donovan was challenging him. Daring him to back out, to admit that he was too weak and too sick to be of use. And Lucian… Yes, he was self-aware enough to know a fatal flaw on second glance (and he'd had more than a few glimpses at his own arrogance over the years), but that didn't mean he was master of it. Heat bloomed under his collar, rising to his cheeks.

"You're sick, I know," Donovan said, rolling his eyes like it was a personal failing on Lucian's part. "But we need a strong Psychic user, and you fit the bill." He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

A strong Psychic user…

Thoughts raced through Lucian's aching head.

It seemed unlikely that there was a problem with any Fighting types… If the matter were truly urgent, someone would have woken him up… So…

Building codes in Sinnoh were specific about where trees could be planted, yet one had damaged the Pokémon Center this morning. Perhaps it had taken a blow from a frenzied Pokémon or, more likely, the intense vibrations had weakened its structure. It could have slid as the snow gave way beneath it… and this could have happened all over Snowpoint. The vibrations from the stampede had felt like a small earthquake; perhaps some of the older houses had even suffered partial collapse. In that case, it made perfect sense that they would need a Psychic trainer's assistance.

"You need me on cleanup duty?" Lucian asked, making a point of raising his eyebrow again. A shiver ripped through him, trailing malaise in its wake. His stomach churned as though to remind him of its emptiness.

Donovan's surprised flinch was the sweetest victory Lucian had tasted in a very long time. "Yes," he said, recovering. "I'll brief you on our way to the first site."

Lucian nodded, tensing up under another angry growl from his stomach. "I'll meet you in the lobby in five minutes." He stared, dead-eyed, at Donovan until he left, then slumped against the back of the chair. He felt every degree of his fever beneath the layers of his hoodie and snow jacket. Beneath his beanie, his hair was damp with sweat. But there was no time to waste. He choked down the Geobar and washed down the pills Nurse Angela had given him with a can of cold brew from the fridge.

He raided the kitchen shamelessly, refreshing his supply of tissues from a box on the counter and zipping protein bars and more foil packets of painkillers into the inner pockets of his snow jacket. Even if he wasn't a true Psychic, guiding and resonating with Psychic type Pokémon still took energy. There was a reason Psychic users had a reputation as heavy sleepers and big eaters.

Lucian reported back to the lobby after exactly five minutes, having timed it down to the second on his Pokétch.

Donovan was waiting for him with his arms crossed, a particularly large Machamp looming behind him in the same posture. Two other Rangers sat in armchairs, one with a Medicham standing beside them and the other holding a Kirlia in their lap. "This is Toshiko and Alexis," he said, gesturing at them in turn.

Lucian inclined his head slightly instead of bowing properly. He really didn't want to know what the change in orientation would do to his sinuses. "Lucian," he said hoarsely. It seemed his voice had stopped giving out quite as dramatically as it had last night, though the tradeoff was a miserable rasp.

An uncomfortable silence stretched out for a split second too long, the two Rangers peering at him with what seemed like earnest concern, or at least curiosity.

"He has a bit of a cold," Donovan said dismissively, waving a hand. "Let's get going."

Lucian was quick to follow him. His smoldering fever had rendered his winter clothing nearly unbearable and even the bitter wind of Snowpoint now seemed preferable to another second trapped inside in these layers.

Outside, teams of Rangers plodded to and fro across the layers of white snow. Silver clouds blanketed the sky, washing everything out to bright pastels.

"Here's the deal," began Donovan, looking supremely unbothered despite his bare arms. "We have four fallen trees and three damaged properties, counting the Pokémon Center. If we can get them cleared out before the repair team gets here, that will cut their work in half."

Lucian sniffled and wiped his nose on the back of his glove. It was disgusting, yes, but even the small act of taking his glove off to reach for a tissue seemed like an unwise expenditure of energy.

Donovan continued, "Also, one of the trees is blocking the road, so that's priority number one. The plan is to combine manpower— Well, Pokémon power and Psychic energy to move the rubble to designated zones. Then, the disposal team can take care of the rest."

"Understood," Lucian said. Presumably, the explanation had been for his benefit, as Toshiko and Alexis hadn't appeared to be paying any attention to it.

They reached the first felled tree and Lucian's breath caught. He choked the coughing fit down as best as he could, faltering under the weight of all their eyes on him. His tears dried cold on his fevered cheeks and he shuddered at the discrepancy before remembering himself. "Excuse me. Shall I?" He released Girafarig without waiting for an answer.

"Just that one?" Donovan asked, eyeing Girafarig with obvious displeasure. "This would go a lot faster if you used your whole team."

"I can't," Lucian said irritably. It wasn't exactly common knowledge, but countless Psychic masters had died identifying the limits of their abilities. Skilled Psychics could mentally resonate with three or four Pokémon at most. Anything beyond that inevitably resulted in strokes, seizures, and death. Lucian's own limit was three. He had tried it with Espeon, Girafarig, and Gallade once and managed to hold the connection for exactly one minute and 28 seconds before a blood vessel in his nose had burst and drenched his suit with an alarming amount of blood. "Two, maybe. But six would kill me."

Donovan rolled his eyes. "Well, this tree is the biggest we're going to face today, so if there was ever a time to exert yourself…"

He was right. The tree was massive and Alexis' little Kirlia was unlikely to be much help. Then… Bronzong, maybe. No, Gallade. Might as well give Kirlia something to aspire to.

"Alright," said Donovan, nodding. "The Psychic types will lift the tree, then the Fighting types will get under it. Medicham's pulling double duty, so stay on your toes. Ready?"

Lucian swallowed. An undertaking of this magnitude would be unpleasant even on his best day. But there was no time to hesitate, not when Kirlia's eyes were already glowing. He reached out with his mind and found his Pokémon's energy, their understanding, and finally, their effort. His vision wavered as the tree began to rise, his heart pounding in his chest and head. One inch, two inches, then the burden was less. Machop got his hands under the trunk, then Medicham, then Donovan, which was… unexpected.

The drop point was clearly delineated, which was a blessing because Donovan had neglected to point it out. Lucian kept his eyes on the bright orange tape marking out the area, stifling coughs deep in his chest. It hurt, but he couldn't afford to break concentration now. Not when his Pokémon were counting on his guidance. They leaned on the edges of his psyche and pressure pounded in his temples.

When the tree finally dropped in the snow, Lucian fought the urge to drop with it. He leaned against Girafarig instead, his sore chest protesting every deep inhale.

"One down," said Donovan, dusting off his hands. "Let's get a move on."

"One minute," Lucian wheezed, coughing lightly on every syllable. It felt like someone had dropped a lit match down his throat and it was just sitting in his larynx, refusing to move. He spared a glance at Alexis, but she seemed unaffected. Maybe a little winded, if he wasn't just imagining things to console his own bedraggled ego.

Girafarig nuzzled him and Lucian finally straightened up. His whole body hurt now, well and truly ached in every extremity and joint. He wiped his nose on his glove again and trudged after Donovan, who had started walking without a word.

He recalled Gallade before they reached the next site and that lessened the mental toll. Donovan shot him a dirty look from under the tree trunk when he noticed.

Lucian preferred to face problems head on, but he had neither the voice nor the pain tolerance for an argument. So when the tree was settled, he did not look Donovan square in the eye and ask what the matter was. He waited, one hand resting on Girafarig's side, in silence.

Well, near silence. He sneezed a few times.

"Look," said Donovan pointedly, eyeing him with unrepentant disdain. "If you can use two Pokémon, you might as well use two Pokémon. It'll lessen the strain on the Fighting types."

And you, Lucian did not say. Far be it from him to take this kind of treatment laying down, but he just didn't have the energy to argue. He knew the way out, and it was through. They could find another Trainer if he insisted on it, but that would mean forcing an argument through his shredded throat, then trudging through the snow to find a Trainer, waiting while the process was explained to them, then dragging himself back to the site for more punishment.

There was no replacing him, either. The nearest Psychic worth their salt was probably hidden somewhere on one of the southern routes, tempering their discipline in a perpetual blizzard. Dredging up a team that could touch Lucian's in power would be an exercise in futility; they might as well wait for the repair team and their buzzsaws.

No, he was going to do this Donovan's way, and then he was going to go home and sleep for ten straight years.

At the third site, Lucian fell to his knees in the snow, feeling his subpar breakfast in every tremor of his hands. Who knew how many calories he had burned through this morning? It was certainly more energy than one granola bar could provide.

"There's no need to be dramatic," Donovan said, but he was breathing just as heavily.

Lucian sat backwards, the cold biting right through his snow pants and underlayers, dueling with his fever. It somehow managed to be painful and he shuddered, his skin crawling.

He caught Alexis' eye and beckoned her over with a slight nod that rang his skull like a bell. The part of her face that peeked out over her muffler was pale and waxy. Lucian tried to smile and felt his lip split.

She looked at him expectantly. Lucian pulled off his gloves and reached into his snow jacket for a granola bar. "Here," he rasped.

She didn't smile, exactly, but her eyes wrinkled at the corners. "Thank you," she said, sitting next to him in the snow. "I meant to bring some trail mix with me, but I forgot."

"Five minutes," Donovan barked.

Lucian didn't bother to look at him, but Alexis turned over her shoulder. "You got it!"

They seemed to be on friendly terms. Lucian would have liked to have asked her about it.

Instead, he spent the break in silence, forcing a granola bar down his throat and chasing another painkiller with a handful of virgin snow.

He could have wept when Donovan ended their break a full two minutes early. Chills crawled along his skin and sank deep into his muscles and the added mental strain of guiding his Pokémon drove him further toward total collapse with every shaky breath. The between times offered no respite, just a merciless slog through the snow.

The wind picked up at site number six and Lucian's hand shook when he reached for Gallade's Pokéball. He couldn't stifle a groan when a sneeze ripped through him, his fever magnifying the ache that ripped across his ribcage. He caught Donovan looking at him curiously when he recalled Gallade, but neither one of them said anything. Lucian couldn't focus on two Pokémon any more. His concentration would slip, adding unexpected weight that the others were ill-equipped to carry.

He would have bowed out entirely, shaking with pain and fatigue and illness, but he recognized this house. The heavy stone chimney, with its distinctive silhouette, had been knocked down by the tremors. The very same chimney Lucian had stared at as he trudged down the path to Snowpoint, the ever-growing silhouette proof of his progress. That there really was an end in sight.

He had to help.

Reality pulsed in front of his eyes when Girafarig pushed its energy outward and the weak walls of his psyche threatened to buckle inward and collapse just like the chimney. Everything rippled and spun and he staggered, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. The chimney slipped, just a little, Girafarig stretching out for his guidance. Lucian refocused their energy with difficulty, struggling to keep the marker flags in his vision. His legs shook.

Donovan, Machamp, and Medicham slipped out from under the chimney and Lucian let the connection drop. Only his locked knees kept him upright in the face of a familiar, dark silhouette on the horizon. Golden hair fluttered in the wind.

"One left," said Donovan, his chest heaving somewhere in Lucian's peripheral vision. "Let's get this over with."

Tears pricked the corners of Lucian's eyes. No. No, he couldn't break now. Not here, not like this. "I…" It hurt to admit, not just his throat, but his pride. "...can't." He was so hot. He pawed his beanie off with a convulsive motion and dragged his fingernails along his forehead to unstick the sweaty coils of hair that had stuck to his skin.

In the distance, Cynthia crested a small hill, her peacoat fluttering around her calves.

"What?" said Donovan.

"I can't do it." Every word was a knife in Lucian's throat.

"Donovan," Alexis hissed.

"I… I don't…" Lucian's vision narrowed. His legs trembled. Something wet gathered on his upper lip and ran into his mouth. Blood. He bent at the waist to spit it out and nearly lost his balance, red spots spattering and pulsing in the snow.

"Lucian? I've been looking everywhere for you."

He couldn't, oh, Guardians, he couldn't—

"Hey. Lucian?"

His legs finally gave out and he couldn't catch himself, falling face-forward into the snow. He curled up a little, all his muscles spasming and tensing, driving his cheek further into the iced-over snow that covered the powder. It hurt. It all hurt. Blood flowed from his nose, painting his vision sickly red. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Somewhere over the ringing in his ears, the crunch of approaching footsteps buzzed like static. "What happened?" Cynthia demanded. "Did someone hit him?"

"Looks like a seizure to me." Donovan's voice.

Cold fingertips traced Lucian's brow, breath ghosting along his cheek. "Fuck," Cynthia whispered. Then louder but from farther away, "He's burning up!"

That much was true. His winter clothes trapped his body heat like they were supposed to, slowly cooking him even as the snow stung his cheek and neck.

"Is he?"

Another voice. "You said it was just a cold."

He was the only one who had all the answers and here he was, insensate on the ground, all his muscles seizing. It was something akin to a panic attack, a warning from his body to stop. Now.

Not a seizure.

He should say so before they tried to give him the wrong medical care.

Unfortunately, when he opened his mouth to speak, coughs wracked his aching body. Wet, ragged coughs. Blood in the snow. In his mouth. Burning, aching skin.

"Don, he's really sick."

"Go get the sled from Medical."

Footsteps in the snow.

"Lucian." Cynthia again. "Can you hear me? I need you to pick your head up."

He nodded, scraping his face along the ice, and pushed himself up onto one shaking arm. His nose appeared to have stopped bleeding and by some miracle, his glasses had stayed on. "I may have overdone it," he rasped, his voice nothing more than a hiss.

"Don't try to talk."

He shook his head. She needed to know. "I'm alright." It was true, more or less. He had pushed himself much too far; his head pounded so badly he couldn't see straight and he was still shaking, not with cold but with fatigue. "I'd rather not take the sled."

She studied him, her eyes cool and calculating. At this distance, he could make out the reflection of the snow in her silvery irises. "You're certain you can walk?"

Lucian nodded and, to prove it, rose to his knees. His head rang like a struck gong, but he kept his balance.

"Hey!" Donovan yelped.

Lucian flinched. It was a dirty trick to pull, but there wasn't another way. Cynthia could be as fierce as a mother Garchomp when the mood struck her, and if Lucian had to play the broken bird to get away from Donovan, he was prepared to do so. He caught her eye to better hammer home his point, and for a split second, ceased his efforts to keep his pain from showing on his face.

"You should wait for the medic," Donovan continued.

Cynthia frosted over in an instant. "I'll handle it from here. Thank you, Ranger." She turned to go, not offering Lucian her arm nor any other assistance.

Silently, he thanked her, and made a point of holding himself upright until his exhausted muscles gave out. Dried blood pinched at the irritated skin around his nose and made his eyes water, threatening sneezes that never quite came.

Cynthia was a beacon beside him, her golden hair shining as though beneath a spotlight. She was magnificent against the snow, so dazzling it would have hurt his eyes to look if not for his glasses.

Everything was bright and gleaming now, the Rangers' tents and caution tape, their uniforms and their Pokémon, the lights in the windows of houses that they passed, and especially the Pokémon Center's neon light. It might as well have been molten metal, the way it cut right through his glasses and sent twin spikes through both irises. His thermal underlayers rubbed against his skin with unpleasant friction.

"Did he hit you?" Cynthia asked finally.

Wary of shaking his head and knocking himself off balance, Lucian took a breath to answer and only made himself cough. It was nearly his undoing, and when he finally stopped, phantom pains raced around his ribs. His head swam, vision doubling in sickening waves. Yes, he had overdone it. He understood. And further, he knew what Cynthia was getting at. She needed to know what he needed, whether he was injured or dehydrated. "No. Just need to sleep," he said, unable to raise his voice above a whisper.

"That's it?"

He inclined his head. Guardians, but he loathed being so reticent. There just wasn't a better way to communicate close at hand.

The Pokémon Center loomed in front of them, the entrance a few mere feet away. "The nurse should look you over," Cynthia said. "In fact, I'd rather a doctor, but I don't think Snowpoint has a clinic."

The sliding doors had already opened for them but Lucian leaned against the exterior wall so he could shake his head without knocking himself over.

His brain rattled against the sides of his skull, pain centers lighting up left and right, top and bottom. No doctors. Not until the dust had settled some. Surely the medical staff had enough on their plates without having to look after a foolish Trainer who really should have known better than to push himself as hard as he had.

Unfortunately, the Pokémon Center was bustling now. Displaced citizens and Rangers alike milled in the lobby. Lucian covered his face with his hand to hide the dried blood clinging to his nose and lips. Cynthia took him by the wrist and strode through the crowd and Lucian's lungs and throat seared and he couldn't— Lights and voices, his vision turning over and over like a carnival ride— Of course, his body wasn't kind enough to let him faint. He stumbled into Cynthia's back and had to put his hands on her shoulders to right himself and he couldn't see for the pain in his head.

His stomach lurched and Guardians, he wasn't going to be sick, was he? Not here. Not with his arm over Cynthia's shoulders— when had that happened?

"You're really burning up," Cynthia said under her breath.

"Don't feel good," he mumbled, struggling now to pick his feet up.

"Lucian?"

"I d-don't—" Here it was. His limit, finally reached. He couldn't take another step. Couldn't hold his head up. Couldn't.

His throat tightened as reality shattered around him, one sickening drop off the edge of a cliff. He was burning up.

Can you take my jacket off?

The words didn't sound. His voice was gone.

"Hold on, Lucian." Cynthia tugged him sideways and his knees buckled. She lowered him to the ground, cold linoleum under his burning cheek. He fumbled for his zipper, finally freeing himself of the inferno that had been raging beneath his layers.

"Here." Cynthia got behind him and helped him sit up, slipping the jacket off his shoulders. "The hoodie, too."

This left him in a sweat-soaked T-shirt and he was too miserable to even be embarrassed by his appearance. With the cool flooring under his back, his awareness began to call itself home, centering itself back in his skull where it belonged. Sagging wooden shelves leered down at him with rows of white teeth— sheets. Bedding.

Are we in a linen closet?

"Shhh." Cynthia swept her fingers across his forehead and stood up. He watched her scan the shelves and give up, kneeling again so she could fold up his hoodie and slide it beneath his head. Her fingers caught in his damp curls and he winced. Less at the discomfort and more at the realization. He must have looked awful.

"I need to go get some things," Cythia murmured, her hand still resting on his brow. "I won't leave the Center. Please have one of your Pokémon come get me if you need me."

He nodded his assent, eyes already slipping shut. The only documented cure for this kind of overwork was sleep. He'd read every book he could find on ESP and Psychic powers. Just sleep. That was the only thing…

It didn't come.

Wouldn't come.

He was trapped with his thoughts, his exhaustion, his malaise.

In a linen closet.

He sat up at some point, bracing his back against one of the shelves. It was better than lying there, the contents of his sinuses draining down the back of his throat.

Taking stock of himself seemed to be a pointless endeavor, but there wasn't anything else to occupy the time, so he let his eyes fall shut and self-assessed. Was there anything he had missed? It didn't appear that he'd done any lasting damage to himself, but it was hard to tell for sure underneath the weight of his fever.

He was just so tired. The hard linoleum floor was simply no match for his bed at home, the hoodie behind his neck a poor imitation of his down pillows.

Footsteps down the hall made him straighten, then hiss in discomfort. The closet door opened and Cynthia slipped in, her arms full.

"Are you up for it?" she asked, passing him something.

A clipboard and pen. Pale yellow printer paper.

He nodded.

A Ranger asked for my assistance moving felled trees and other rubble. His exhausted muscles protested the fine, repetitive movements of writing, resulting in wobbly, barely legible words on the page.

"I see." Cynthia sighed. "I wish… I knew you wanted to help." She sighed again, looking at him with something like pain in her eyes. "It's not my place to tell you off. Not as Champion. But you're my friend and I wish… Arceus, just look at you."

Lesson learned.

"Are you really alright?"

Yes.

When a Psychic pushes themselves too far

What you saw, when you walked up… It was my body setting a boundary. To keep me from actually hurting myself.

He paused for a moment before continuing

I am sorry if I scared you

For a moment, Cynthia just looked at him. Her eyes lingered on his face, her expression grave. "If you're not going to sleep, let me get you cleaned up."

Lucian nodded, eyes losing focus in the glare of the lights. He snapped back to himself at the sensation of something in his space, Cynthia's fingertips at his lips. He opened his mouth automatically and let her place a cough drop on his tongue. Honey-flavored.

"Stop me if anything hurts." She dabbed at his nose with a cold, damp cloth and the prickling sensation of dried blood scraping against chafed, irritated skin made his eyes water.

When his breath hitched, she pressed a tissue into his hand. She was so close… How had he not noticed before? She was practically on top of him, kneeling by his side with one arm braced against the shelving so she could lean in.

He turned his face away to sneeze and his whole body ached. Flakes of blood fluttered to the ground when he tried to wipe his nose and he fell back against the wall, eyes rolling. Sleep. He needed sleep. But he was too sore, too wrung out, too tired.

"Doing okay?" Cynthia asked.

Lucian reached for the clipboard with shaking hands. Could you talk for to me?

Please

Say anything

Guardians, but he was just too tired to care if he was giving himself away. Everything hurt and Cynthia was right there and he could bury the remains of his reputation later or do his best to put the pieces back together and raise it from the dead, but right now he needed her.

"This will feel cold," Cynthia said at once. "I raided the procedure room. They're disinfectant wipes." She dabbed at his nose and chin. "I can take you home after this." A long pause. She scrubbed at his face until he couldn't help but wince, and then she eased off at once. "Sorry. Almost done. There's not that much blood; I think the cold might have slowed the bleeding. There." She smiled at him with such tenderness in her eyes that he had to look away.

He'd been trying to avoid watching her work, the temptation of those petal pink lips so close to his own. But his eyes wandered every once in a while.

"This might sting a little," she said. He stared at the door, the words not processing until something cold and wet touched his cheek and the sting she'd warned him about sank in. He looked at her with furrowed brow in lieu of picking up the clipboard again

"You have some cuts on your face," she said, fanning him with her fingers. The sting abated at the gentle rush of cold air. This was… This was too much. To have her fussing after him like this, nursing him— Her, the Champion of Sinnoh!

Lucian made to get up and knocked shoulders with her and the white shelves whirled in front of his eyes. He stuck his hand out at random and clutched at a stack of folded sheets.

"What's wrong?"

Stupid. He was being stupid. Panicky and skittish, embarrassed. Blushing like a little boy. He fell back again without letting go of the sheets and they slipped off the shelf, landing on his thigh.

"Lucian, what's the matter?"

He let his eyes fall shut and tried to focus on his breathing. It was all wrong and his chest hurt and the cough drop clicked against his molars.

"I'm going to take your temperature again, alright? In your ear."

No sound came when he tried to answer, and then the plastic slid into his ear canal and his body smoldered beneath his T-shirt and snow pants. Her other hand rested on his forehead. Like she could soothe his fever with the magic of her touch.

"38.9." Her voice was completely devoid of emotion, yet the absence spoke volumes.

He reached for the clipboard.

You don't have t

Of course she didn't. She knew that. He knew she knew that.

Thank you, Cynthia

"Just do me a favor, Lucian." She swept his hair back behind his ear and trailed her fingers along his jaw, her eyes focused on his cheek, where the cool wet sting of antiseptic still lingered. "Please, just. I don't want to have to do this again. You really scared me."

He nodded. Reality receded a little, the tide going out. Each wave of pain and heat fell a little shorter of his notice.

His head found her shoulder and the dark wool of her pea coat blocked out the harsh, humming fluorescents. They'd been hurting his eyes the whole time, yet somehow he'd only just noticed.

"Rest for a moment," she murmured, her hand running down and down and down the back of his head. "Then I'll take you home."

The last of the honey drop dissolved down his throat, soothing some of the miserable sting. He turned his head and let the wool scratch against his uninjured cheek, grounding himself with the sensation. "Thank you," he mumbled.

When they moved, there would be clean sheets and soft pajamas, menthol cough drops and hot tea. But the moment he pulled back, the spell would be broken. She'd never hold him like this again.

So he lingered, selfishly, until she paused and rested her hand on the back of his head. One more breath. And he pulled back. Better to break the spell himself than wait around until she broke it for him. It hurt less, in a way.

#ethereous writes #my italics never carry over when i copy/paste and im always too lazy to put them back in #there are a few places where they were grammatically necessary but other than that just use your imagination #also if anyone is reading this i prefer they/them pronouns but my teen self use she/her

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mikunato · 2 years

Text

River of Gods [wmmap x oc]

Headcanons

synopsis : this is a self-created world including characters of the famous manhwa "Who Made Me A Princess" and my oc "Arium Daphne Obelia".

disclaimer : any original characters mentioned are contributions from my friends. quite plot divergent. ships include lucas × athanasia, roger × anastacius, claude × original character(brief), claude × diana, original character × original character

1. Arium is a Latin name that roughly translates to 'gold'. It's a reference to her eye color that is a perfect mix of yellow and the Obelian Imperial jewel-like appearance.

2. Unlike most mothers in manhwas (ya'll don't think it's sus how they're all...y'know...ded), Arium's mother is alive and kicking and decided to follow through with the grueling process of divorce.

3. Divorce application from females was a new concept at that time and thus far difficult to appeal for, even harder considering her husband's Emperor status.

4. The reason? She, for a lack of better words, hated how callous Claude was with the empire, her loathe even further fueled by the Ruby Palace Massacre.

5. Manon Grire, Arium's mother, is a descendent from the Obelian family's biggest trade associate and military power supplant. She was also crowned Empress so she wasn't killed with the other concubines unless Claude wanted a revolution to break out and lose his throne.

6. Arium inherited Claude's honey blonde hair and decent height — standing at 5'10.

7. Personality-wise, she is a complex character. Unlike her parents, she isn't detached from her emotions, nor completely stern like her mother. She is normally sweet and doesn't mind taking the backseat in regards to displaying her feelings for the sake of catering to others' needs.

8. Arium has a dark side that first appeared when a lady wanted to behead a commoner girl for crossing the road while the lady's carriage passed, causing it to stop. Arium was being assisted by her knight around the capital when she threw her first temper tantrum and it was b a d.

9. Needless to say the noble was locked up, the woman being reduced to tears when Arium was through with her and she was only seven at that time. Seven.

10. In reality, Arium had awakened what the Grire's called 'Possession of Heaven and Hell'. It lets the user summon massive bouts of mana, that comparable to part of the World Tree and regarded as godly or demonic, varying on the summon type.

11. Arium is three years older than Athanasia and two years older than Jenette [I hc athy and jettie as one year apart]

12. Arium and Ijekiel met at the Arlantan Academy and became almost inseparable from then on. Ijekiel told her about the 'lady angel' thing and Arium just burst out laughing (cue a confused baby Kiel)

13. Arium was first introduced to Jenette after her return from the five year academic course in Arlanta.

14. Already being adept at recognizing mana nature, she easily concluded there was an illusion placed over the girl. Despite her suspicions, they got along very well, instantly bonding over their love for animals and recent trends in fashion.

15. Speaking of sisters, Arium and Athanasia have a love-hate relationship, just not to the extent of lucathy. Arium enjoys teasing Athy and Athy responds by acting like a mad/flustered bunny. But if her sister gets hurt, the person responsible will have a literal demon after them 😃

16. Arium met Lucas way before he met Athy. This happened when a four year old Arium, left unsupervised by her father who was getting frequent migraines, stumbled upon the Black Tower.

17. Long story short, she ended up getting spooked by a sleeping figure surrounded by cobwebs and ended up letting out a small jet of mana straight towards Lucas that woke him up.

18. Lucas planned to kill the 'vermin' who had disrupted his centuries worth of sleep only to find a girl that resembled a kicked pup, staring at him in awe (he let her go ahsvjajskas)

19. From then on, Arium frequented the Tower. At first Lucas would cast a boundary spell to prevent her from entering but after seeing her spend a particularly bad storm outside, he was forced to relent.

20. Lucas was then intrigued by her heritage, having never actually crossed paths with a Grire, he agreed to be her mentor (more for his amusement than to actually teach her) and surprisingly, his vague words and audio effects got through to the princess.

21. I headcanon mana to have certain types (like Lucas' is fire, Athy's being wind, etc.) Arium has two different types from the Possesion of Heaven and Hell. Her own individual mana, though, has water nature that helps in healing magic.

22. Arium immediately recognized Anastacius in Athy's debutante, having spent countless afternoons on her uncle's shoulders till the age of two, chasing butterflies and devouring savory food, 'cuz neither has a particularly sweet tooth.

23. Arium doesn't have infantile amnesia which means that she remembers everything she heard since the time she could hear from her mother's womb.

24. At age seventeen, just before her sister's debutante, she participated in the war against the Taboks, the empire that shared borders with Obelia in the north. She was just supposed to be a healer but whrn the enemy successfully invaded the battle camp, she alongside a few other capable mages had to fight, long enough for most of the defenseless ones to make an escape.

25. Alenox, the northern border, was defended and ended with fewer casualties than anticipated. Since then, Arium was granted a seat at the Council of Obelia.

Incorrect Quotes

Athanasia : So what's Lucas' type?

Arium : Blonde hair, blue eyes, oblivious, obsessed with chocolate, dog lover.

Athanasia : Sounds kind of like me. Too bad we're just friends.

Arium : Did I mention oblivious?

Athanasia : Yeah, why?

Arium : No, just making sure.

---

Athanasia : Thanks Lucas!

Lucas : Yeah, yeah. Whatever.

Arium : *hiding behind bushes and watching from afar with a telescope* Now...kiss!

---

Jeanette : So, what do I bring to the table?

Arium : You're the cute one.

Jeanette : ...?

Athanasia : *sigh* I'm the hot one, sis is the cool one and you are the cute one.

---

Arium : You know what strength is? It's forgiving someone who isn't even sorry.

Lucas : Not to be dramatic but I would literally rather die.

---

Ijekiel : I have a bad feeling about this.

Arium : What do you mean?

Ijekiel: Don't you have that little voice in your head that tells you if something is going to get you in trouble?

Arium : No.

Ijekiel : ...That actually explains a lot of things.

---

Claude : I'm having a tea party.

Arium : I don't want tea.

Claude : I never asked you to join me.

Arium : ...Then why tell me?

Claude : It's a conversation starter.

Arium : It's a horrible conversation starter.

Claude : Is it? We're conversing. Checkmate.

#mikunato.blogs #wmmap lucas #wmmap ijekiel #wmmap #who made me a princess #suddenly became a princess one day #wmmap athanasia #wmmap diana #wmmap x oc #wmmap headcanons #wmmap anastacius #wmmap jennette #wmmap claude #wmmap x reader #wmmap oc #manhwa #manhwua #isekai

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earthflaxmachina · 2 years

Text

1 dere(k)volution

P: heres to the first of the second try at ramble posting on tumblr. instead of random rants, these posts will be centered around some kind of oc meta. also this time i have a co-host of sorts to keep it interesting because i am a dull turd.

D: It’s Derek.

P: cool. the topic for discussion today is the evolution of derek. but like the concept of derek. not this derek’s canon character development or whatever. to start by looking at the first ever image of derek that i scrolled through my camera for 10 minutes to find.

(from 2/2019)

if you didnt know already, his name was Dolan at first. the name Derek is fairly recent.

D: Dolan. What an ugly nerd name.

P: right. also. his design was based off a bottle of water i found at the grocery store. back then i had a weird tendency to draw very thin necks for some reason. along with very short torsos and long legs. so thats why the proportions look really weird.

D: That explains why you draw really thick necks now to compensate. Hahaha.

P: basically the beta concept for his story was that he lived in Hell and had an incredibly powerful wand that he inherited by accident after getting lost in the snowy woods or something. (Dolan) didnt really know what kind of responsibilities came with the wand and consistently wanted to become a magician (not fantasy kinda magic... like card tricks kind of magic) and misused the wand for trivial things such as taking a shortcut to the grocery store.

D: So I’ve been a amateur magician since birth!

P: yes. its incredible how youve stayed an amateur for this long. fun fact: harlow was also created at a similar time and was exes with one of luciano’s brothers. wow. the prosciuttoverse was a cesspool back then. a furry world PLUS heaven/hell setting? get outta here.

D: Harlow was also my love interest for quite some time!

(from 4/2019)

P: yeah. maybe we’ll do a commentary on harlow’s evolution at some point.

D: God I had such a weirdly-shaped head.

P: lets look at some other pics of dolan.

(renewed ref, from 5/2019)

(from 1/2020)

P: nothing more to note other than the fact that i remember writing a lot about you having a nice butt on your charahub/toyhouse profiles. despite the fact that your butt is pretty mundane in the evidence provided. god what the hell is that shading.

D: Ah I look so young and happy.

P: right i think dolan was meant to be in his early 20s. like literally every other oc i had at the time. next, the start of 2021 was when i revamped/redesigned dolan.

(from 2/2021 and 3/2021 respectively)

P: theres the first ever image of human derek and harlow. not much has changed tbh

D: We look like a lesbian couple.

P: the story concept was also pretty different from the original. basically i made a whole hierarchy for both heaven and hell and the world was completely extinct so everyone was either in heaven or hell. the world itself was the wence boys’ world. so the story wouldve taken place way way in the future. blah blah blah something about heaven being evil or corrupt or something corny like that, and dolan (being half devil/angel what a cliche) wanted to change The System (tm). also he was running a campaign 2 be ruler of hell or something as part of his plan. maybe he was evil maybe he wasnt idk. its old corny stuff.

D: Sounds like boring philosophical politics. Bluh bluh.

P: yeah. anyways timeskip to later in the year when i completely revamped your story AGAIN! ill try to limit the pictures from now on because im almost at the max 10.

(from 7/2021)

D: Look at me and my pronounce!

P: so at this point. there was a heaven/hell but it wasnt the main setting it just existed. there was an office kinda deal going on for the admin stuff. a dead persons soul could either be reincarnated in heaven/hell or destroyed iirc. there were 4 different departments because people die all the time so they categorized them. dolan had the biggest department because it was Death by natural causes/accidents. the 3 other were Pestilence (disease), War (conflict or generally murder), Famine. at this time i changed dolan’s name to Death because he was literally the grim reaper. he also wasnt God at this time. there was still some kind of higher power i think it was Stig. harlow was human and also lesbian now. nothing else interesting.

D: So when did I become Derek?

P: I dunno. some time after my birthday? when i started the storyline where you became human for a bit and needed a human name for Death. then i just got tired of calling you Death and stuck with Derek because it is better in every way.

D: Excellent judgement.

(from 28/10/2021)

P: this was probably the start of the all New and Improved derek storyline. the rest is pretty streamline from here and doesnt really need a recap.

D: Woof look how sweet and well-adjusted I looked back then! And that tiny nose.

P: yeah you still had some humanity (pupils) in your eyes. and still had the square glasses thing going on. eugh. waitwaitwait lets look at the first time i drew you and rumi lol

(from 11/2021)

D: We were so in love.

P: wow you guys have changed a LOT since then. for one: you were probably never that sweet to her. and she hates your guts now.

D: If I had any!

P: alright. that concludes this ramble on THE EVOLUTION OF DEREK

D: DERE(K)VOLUTION

P: that sounds stupid. welp. i will probably make a poll on whose meta we should recap next - because i am always looking for an excuse to make a google form. or just send smth to the askbox. i dont care. bye

D: Goodbye friends!

#ramble #derek

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reaperkiller · 2 years

Note

😨🌙🙈🎁✏️🌪️ + jason!

LOTS OF RAMBLING SO IT'S UNDRR A READ MORE SORRYYYY

😨 FEARFUL - when scared, do they go into "flight" or "fight"?

FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT. he's always ready to fight he probably just uses that as an excuse. maybe he's not even scared.

🌙 MOON - what is your oc's greatest wish? how far are they willing to go for it?

because theres like. 2 very different paths for him in my mind (not that i cant decide im just. Video Game Planning in my brain. as you do), it's either being hellbent on revenge and doing anything to achieve it, or simply trying to stay alive and keep his family + friends safe even if that means isolating himself completely <3 love that for him

🙈 SEE-NO-EVIL - whats a side of your oc that they don't want to show other people?

since he and my v are basically 2 sides of the same coin (their fates at the start are way too similar for me to want to make an entirely New oc so. v is the au version that only makes sense to me i guess Dont Worry About It) the answer is very much the same from yesterday. He Cannot Let People Know He Has Feelings And Simply Craves Love And Affection

🎁 PRESENT - what types of presents would they be most happy to receive? are they good at gift giving?

always delighted to receive a good knife or two. even if it's extremely impractical or useless or whatever. if it looks pretty he wants it. he's a lot better at giving gifts than he thinks he is. he puts Way too much thought into everything he ever buys for anyone else so much so to the point where he Despises what he's getting them. until it turns out they love it and he's like. oh! i did good (:

✏️ PENCIL - is there a particular quote / lyric that you associate with them?

oh i am thinking. i am thinking So hard about this. i do not have one specific answer but what i Do have is a playlist full of songs that make me think of him/have his Vibes. does that help. does that legally answer this question [plugging my oc playlists at every opportunity <3]

🌪️ TORNADO - what is the biggest change you've ever made to them? how have they changed from their original version?

oh this is a VERY good question for him bc he's been through so so so many times,, at the very beginning when i first made what eventually became him roughly 10 years ago, it was a spirit of death kind of thing?? that was like. im so bored i hate it here im going to cause problems. it first took the form of a kid but the things it could do in that form were very limited. so it then took form of an old guy, who became like. the father figure of another oc. and later i made another oc who was possessed by a demon or. whatever idk. and at Some Point?? these two ocs morphed into one and jason came out at the other end and is almost Entirely different from the base concepts,, but ik in my art you can see when he started looking more and more like he does now which is cool actually. i also kind of recently revived the death spirit thing idea with ruthie bc i realised it was Very Fun and didnt want to abandon it after all

#OC ALEX #IVE BEEN WRITING THIS IN BITS ALL DAY HIII

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sailordiavolo · 3 years

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suicide prevention month 2021 - things that helped me stay alive

i heard that this month is suicide prevention month in the united states. as someone who’s struggled for many years with suicide myself, and is currently in the mystical “better place”, i feel it’s my duty to open this can of worms. i am unafraid of the stigma that comes with discussing such things.

i’ll go over things that helped me to cope during dark times. these may also apply to being depressed in general (?) because no offense but “drinking water” doesn’t help as much as google seems to think it does. note that these aren’t be all end all solutions, more like techniques that helped me to stay sane on some of my worst days.

1. get rid of everything that’s an immediate danger to your health.

if you’re actively a danger to yourself, safety-proof your home. don’t keep sharp objects lying around, or anything dangerous of the like. get rid of anything toxic or chemical, and don’t keep medicines in excess.

2. if you can’t make yourself happy, try to mildly amuse yourself instead

thinking “happy thoughts” doesn’t really work for me, especially if i’m in the throes of a depressive episode. i do have many things that make me happy, but i seem to forget about all of them in dark times. that being said, really dumb jokes get me every time. if i can make myself laugh, smile or chuckle, i’ve already made it 10 times easier for myself. and if i can do that, usually it’s easy to make myself forget about the original reason i was upset in the first place.

dear reader, i don’t know what would count as “mildly amusing” to you, but here’s some things that work for me.

i have a self care playlist on youtube. mine’s pretty dumb, but making a playlist like that of things that you find entertaining or amusing might help. another amazing one is distantcry’s worst beat ever collection.

very specific songs that really get me going include metrostation’s shake it, botdf’s bewitched, rm’s expensive girl, and she past away’s ruh.

3. do some self care activities

self care is very very important. when you feel like you’re absolute worst, that’s a free pass to be as selfish as you need to be until you feel better. no job, no person, no drama is worth dying over. all of that can wait until after you’re finished what you’re doing. if you’re not really sure what to do as self care activities, i’ll list some suggestions.

take a hot bath, if possible. if you have the resources, add bubbles, flower petals, bathe salts or candles. i did this the other day and sat in the bath and ate crumpets. it was amazing. if not, have a steaming hot shower. (i know it’s hard to find the energy, but it’ll help, i promise)

watch your favourite childhood show, or your favourite show at the moment, or play a video game.

sleep all day, or take the day off.

eat your favourite food, or the best food available to you right now.

spend some money if you have it. personally, i never spend all my money in a week, i save some in case i have a panic attack or something so then i can spend money on something totally random to make myself feel better.

change up your appearance. i usually end up cutting my hair short or randomly dying it, but this can also mean dressing in a way that makes you feel good, painting your nails, or doing your makeup.

4. know how to comfort yourself

this is related to the last one but knowing what brings you comfort is very important. it took me a very long time to figure out what things i find comforting. list the things that you find comforting, and you can use those to help yourself feel better. it might be music, interests, even something abstract.

if you can’t think of anything, then make sure to pay attention to things that make you feel nice/comforted, and list them down. it’s also important to know what will send you over the edge, so you can avoid it.

5. distraction topics

this may help with anxiety as well, but having distraction topics can help you to calm down and forget about what you were worried about. it’s good to have a few distraction topics up your sleeve in case of emergency. i’ll list a few of my favourites, but if you ever need one don’t be afraid to ask me directly, or send me an ask on my blog! i have a ridiculous amount of misc knowledge just floating around.

dinosaur fossils of mothers protecting their nest have been found, meaning that dinosaurs probably felt some form of motherly love. love on earth is billions and billions of years old. creatures have loved each other on this planet since before the dawn of history. imagine being the first organism to love on this planet and what that must’ve been like

some cave paintings were animated. they had different frames painted over each other, and the flickering of a flame in the cave would cause the images to appear as if they were moving. isn’t that extremely profound?

i saw somewhere, that scientists attempted to see what an electron was made out of, or something to that effect. it’s made of a pool of energy, which is essentially nothing. no form, no matter. everything is made out of nothing.

6. romanticise your future

a lot of us probably don’t have a concept of the future, or if we do, it’s something that sounds absolutely horrible. well, forget about that! think instead about how hot n sexy you’ll be in your 30’s, 40’s, etc. don’t worry about how you’ll get there for now, your future self can take care of that. think about your ideal life, and get excited like it’s absolutely going to happen. the more you think about it, the more it will become true.

7. romanticise your current self

nobody in your life understands you? that’s because you’re the hot brooding mysterious one. struggle with very dark thoughts? omg you’d be so powerful as a jujutsu sorcerer. people are staring? it’s because they’re in love with you. people whispering as you go by? also in love with you. no friends? the universe had to keep you humble because otherwise you’d be too perfect. hate the way you look today? you’re just a littel troll babie. the more amusing these thoughts are, the better. and if you think these things for long enough, eventually it will trick your brain into thinking it’s true. who’s gonna check you? the telepaths?

8. put things into perspective

i am prone to delusional thoughts when i’m panicked, and i have to remind myself to reel it in. think about it, you’re more afraid of answering the phone than you are of death? doesn’t sound very cash money of you, bro.

think about how many years you’ve really lived, especially if you think you’ve failed in life. take 12 years off your age, because childhood doesn’t count. also take off any other years which you were forced to live the way someone else wanted you to live, rather than for myself.

for example, i’m currently 23. my household was pretty strict, so i couldn’t really do anything before age 18. which gives me a grand total of 5 years of me trying to figure out life by myself. it helps me to remember how young i actually am in the grand scheme of things, and that i have plenty of time to still figure things out.

9. find a safe outlet for dark urges

for me, art and journaling really helped. music too, especially when i felt like i could relate to either the lyrics, or just the tone/mood/feel of the song. it might be exercise, or you may like to do creative writing or make oc’s. sometimes you may just need a friend or someone to listen.

if you don’t have anyone to talk to, you can message me or shoot me an anon

10. sleep it off

sleep is not going to cure anything, but if i’m pushed over the edge and am struggling with dark thoughts, going to sleep almost always helps. most of the time i still feel like shit in the morning, but no longer in the mood to try anything hasty.

lastly: suicide is not the easy way out

note: i’m gonna be discussing my own experiences with suicide in this part, so if you don’t want to see that, then don’t read past this point

suicide is not the easy way out. it’s messy and it’s ugly and it’s painful and it’s gonna bring out the worst in people. i’ve been struggling with it since age 19.

one particular attempt landed me in the hospital after i swallowed a bunch of painkillers. i couldn’t think or speak properly, i was slurring my words and tripping over myself. my doctor brushed me off and said that it “would probably get better” with time, but it never did. it improved, but my mind has never been the same as it once was, and one of my biggest insecurities to this day is when i struggle to learn new things or get things mixed up that i shouldn’t. i struggle to learn the simplest of things, and my reaction times tend to be very slow.

the point is, sometimes you don’t die, sometimes you just end up hurting yourself in a way that won’t get better. nobody needs that. if had’ve known how to calm myself down back then, i might not’ve tried.

i don’t mind talking about it now, since i’ve dedicated so much time in learning how to uplift myself. i may be in the “better place” now, but you don’t need to rush yourself to be better immediately. sometimes you need to be patient, use baby steps, or learn to accomodate yourself where you are. these things take time. that’s okay.

and remember, you are loved and very much needed to be here on the planet with us.

#suicide awareness #suicide awareness month #mental health awareness #mental health #depression #anxiety #self help #suicide prevention #suicide prevention month #cw suicide

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punchdrunkdoc · 2 years

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Given To Fly

Chapter 16: The Girl That He Wants

Masterlist here

TASM! Peter Parker x Original female character

Summary: After the events of Spiderman: No Way Home, Peter 3 is determined to make some changes to his life. It starts with a new job, and a chance meeting with a beautiful stranger in a bar.

Notes: The lonely, somewhat tortured TASM!/Andrew Garfield version of Peter Parker in Spiderman: No Way Home broke my heart a bit. This is my attempt to give him his happy ending.

I can’t say too much, as there’s a mystery at the heart of this tale that I don’t want to spoil.

But I can say this will be an 18-part story with a slow burn, enemies-to-lovers romance with an OC character (the x reader format doesn’t work for this particular story - sorry!)

Also available on AO3

“Follow the light.”

Peter obliged, staring into the pen torch as the SHIELD medic swung it from side to side. “I’m telling you, I feel fine.”

And it was true.

From a physical point of view.

He felt fit and strong, despite having been in a coma for almost a week. He didn’t have any lingering effects from the radiation poisoning, or from his near-drowning. His healing abilities must have worked over time, because he felt healthier than he had in ages.

It was his mental state that was taking a while to adjust.

“And everything is looking fine,” the medic replied. She was wearing a white lab coat with the name ‘Simmons’ embroidered on it. “Your vitals are normal, and the initial blood work was clear. We just want to run some more tests before we release you.”

“Release him? Already?” May asked, concerned. “He only woke up a couple of hours ago.”

“As I said, he’s fine. More than fine. He’s completely healthy. Which is not that surprising, is it?” Simmons gave his aunt a pointed look, one that Peter couldn’t interpret. He felt like he was missing something…

And it just added to the overall sense of disorientation he’d been feeling since he woke up. He felt…dissociated…from his surroundings. As if this - this room, this conversation, the people in front of him - were no more real than the space he’d occupied while in a coma.

When he was 11 years old he’d had his appendix removed. He remembered feeling anxious going under the general anaesthetic, his voice shaky as he counted back from 10 while inhaling the gas…and the next thing he knew he was waking up in the recovery room, the whole ordeal seemingly over in an instant.

His experience of being comatose…was very different.

He had memories.

Memories of being unconscious. They were vague, ephemeral recollections, but they were real. He was sure of it. No matter how impossible it sounded.

He remembered the moment he slipped into the coma. The pain from his damaged, bleeding lungs was overwhelming…but it was nothing compared to the fear and alarm he felt because of his out-of-control Spidey-sense. He thought he was going to go mad.

Until some instinctual part of his mind kicked in and managed to push his consciousness into a deep hidden recess, safe from all that negative sensation. All at once, the pain and panic disappeared.

He felt nothing. There was no concept of time or space or reality…there was just the void he occupied, all alone.

Until suddenly…there was love.

It was the only way he knew to describe the all-encompassing sense of warmth and safety and care that would come and go in long, slow waves. It made his isolation bearable.

When he finally woke...a part of him was bereft at the thought that he would never feel that sensation again.

That loss, and the general disorientation, was really doing a number on him.

He needed some air.

He needed to get out of this sterile bunker and ground himself in reality. He needed to convince himself that he was really awake. He needed to…”…get out of here.”

Part of that thought was said aloud. It was half whispered, but audible enough to interrupt the conversation between May and Simmons that had been apparently going on while he was spaced out. “What did you say, Peter?”

He said it clearer. “I need to get out of here.”

“That’s what we were discussing,” Jemma explained. “We need to wait for the rest of the blood work and your chest X-ray before-“

“No. Now.” He swung his legs off the bed and stood up, his bare feet hitting the cold tiles. He gripped the floor with his toes. It was a small anchor to reality…but he needed more.

“Peter…,” May said in concern, grasping his arm in case he fell.

He patted her hand. “I’m fine, May. I just need to clear my head a bit. Get some fresh air. That’s allowed right, Doc?”

Simmons bit her lip, debating something internally, before finally nodding. “It should be OK. Wait here.” She stepped outside the room and returned moments later with shoes and a jacket. He slipped into the sneakers and shoved the jacket over the scrubs he was wearing. He then followed Simmons through the medical facility to a large hangar. Ordinarily, he’d be geeking out over the planes and equipment filling the large space, but he was focussed on the sliver of light he could see cracking through the hangar doors at the far end.

They headed in that direction. “You can take as long as you need. Just head back to the med-bay when you’re ready,” Simmons explained.

“You guys aren’t worried about me snooping around your top secret base?”

“Fury trust you. And my friend tells me you’re a good guy, so I’m not worried.”

“Who’s your friend?” He asked, as they reached the door.

She ignored the question. “I’ll leave you here. I need to go back to the lab.”

“Thank you. For this,” he gestured outside. “And for everything over the past week.”

She smiled. “We’re the ones who should be thanking you. You led us to Shepherd which prevented the biggest chemical attack this country's ever seen.”

He looked away, uncomfortable at the praise. He was more used to his name being dragged through the mud by the tabloids. “I was just trying to help.”

She studied him. “Yeah, I’ve heard that’s your thing. With SHIELD’s resources, you could do even more.”

He shook his head. “I’m not looking to be recruited.”

“Shame. The pay’s pretty good. As you’ll see.”

“What do you mean?”

She started walking backwards, away from him. “Fury thought you deserved hazard pay after the last week. It went into your bank account this morning.”

“Wait. What? How did he get my bank account details?”

She threw her arms out to the side and smiled. “We’re SHIELD.” With that, she turned and jogged back through the hangar. Peter watched her go, frowning at the idea of being paid for being Spider-man.

Being Spider-man wasn’t a job. It was a responsibility. It was just who he was.

For most of the last nine years…it was pretty much all he was.

Except for those two months with MJ.

He stepped outside, and took several deep breaths of the crisp, cool air. He’d never take breathing for granted again. Not after inhaling that gas and feeling like his lungs were incinerating from the inside out.

He wouldn’t take a lot of things for granted.

This whole episode had been a wake up call.

He’d had several near-death experiences over the years, but there was something different about this one. It was probably the sense of absolute helplessness that he’d felt as his lungs has burned and his senses had gone haywire, reducing him to a panicked, gasping wreck.

Between waking up in SHIELD’s transport and slipping into the coma, he must have only been conscious for about an hour. But it was an hour he would remember, vividly, for the rest of his life. He’d never been more terrified. The feeling that his body was turning on him; that the Spidey-sense he’d relied on all these years to save him was backfiring in the worst possible way…he never wanted to experience that again.

Along with the helplessness, the other feeling he remembered from that hour - that he never wanted to experience again - was regret.

Regret for the pain he would cause May if he died.

Regret that he’d missed out on so much in life. He didn’t have friends. He didn’t have a career. He’d never travelled…

He’d never allowed himself to be happy since he lost Gwen.

Apart from those two months…

He shook off those thoughts.

This wasn’t about her. This was about his life, and the fact that he needed to LIVE it. Properly. So that when his time on this earth came to an end, he wouldn’t be wracked with those same regrets.

For much of the past 9 years, and for all of the past 6 months he’d done little more than jump from one dangerous situation to the next. His life was an exercise in short term survival, a day-to-day existence with no goals or ambitions. And living like that, it was easy to accept that he was meant to be alone.

But he needed to let go of that idea.

His brush with death had forced him to look forward. To imagine what decades of those day-to-days stacked end-to-end would really add up to.

And the answer was: a whole lot of soul-crushing loneliness.

He’d had similar thoughts after his encounter with the other Peters. But as amazing as that experience had been, it obviously hadn’t been profound enough for the message to stick. Because at the first setback in his quest for a ‘proper life’, he’d reverted right back to his old, solitary ways.

After MJ, he’d closed himself off from the idea of ever being happy again. He convinced himself that he was destined to be alone. The noble, sacrificing, solitary hero.

It was bullshit.

He was Peter Parker, as well as Spider-man. And he wanted a life for Peter. He wanted love. He wanted a family.

He wanted a future.

Peter made his way back towards the med bay. The fresh air had done its job. He felt centred again. Clear-headed. And determined.

He would try to find a way to get over MJ. He would move on, once and for all.

As if his thoughts summoned her, he saw a flash of red hair disappearing around the corner at the end of the hallway.

He shook his head. He must be imagining things. He didn’t know MJ well enough to recognise her in a split second glance from behind…

But his feet started moving to follow the retreating figure and his heart started pounding, as if his body knew what his mind was slow to admit.

It was her.

Somehow, it was her.

He sped up, rounding the corner almost at a run. There was no one in the corridor, but one of the doors at the far end was closing slowly.

Not stopping to think, he made his way to the door and yanked it open.

The figure in the small room, turned around in surprise.

She looked worn and tired. And thin - too thin.

But it was her.

It was MJ.

———

MJ gaped at the figure in the doorway.

How did he find her?!

She’d been hidden away in this room since the moment she’d heard Peter had woken up. She’d only left just now for a few minutes to use the bathroom, and yet somehow he’d found her. He was supposed to be in the Med-bay, not roaming the hallways of SHIELD.

He seemed equally shocked to see her…which meant no one had told him yet about her healing him.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, wonder in his voice.

He definitely didn’t know.

She sighed and sat on the bed behind her, her strength still sapped from the last round of healing. “I-“

He didn’t let her finish. Or even start. “Wait,” he said, a frown forming on his face as he took in her surroundings, and the clothing she wore. “Are you- are you a SHIELD agent now? Have you been in New York this whole time working for them?”

“What?”

He gestured around the room. “You’re obviously living in a SHIELD base, and wearing a SHIELD uniform. What the hell am I supposed to think? Or have you been working for them the whole time we’ve known each other? Is that why you were investigating Allard?” With each accusation, his voice rose, the anger building.

She should feel angry too. She should yell back at him that she’d flown all this way to save him. That she was wearing borrowed clothes because she was so desperate to get to him that she didn’t bother to pack a suitcase. That she’d taken herself to the brink of collapse again and again healing him.

But instead, she just stared down at her lap, feeling tired and hurt. She shook her head and replied in a small, sad voice. “You’re always going to think the worst of me, aren’t you?”

His anger didn’t waver. “Answer the question, MJ. Is that even you’re real name? Or is it just another cover story?”

She slowly got to her feet and met his gaze head on. “My name is MJ. I am not a SHIELD agent. I went after Allard to save my sister. I told you the truth about that.”

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” he scoffed. “You and the truth aren’t that well acquainted.”

Her own anger finally made an appearance. “That’s rich coming from you.”

He took a step back. “What?”

“You got so mad at me when I left that voice message. Because I put myself in danger, and you didn’t know. Well, we’ve both lost people, Peter. Which means I have the same insecurities and fears about the people I love being in danger. And you were out there every night risking your neck as Spider-man, and I had NO IDEA!”

She took a step closer and poked him in the chest. “The night after we kissed for the first time you nearly DIED in an explosion. Did you ever stop to think how I would feel if you had? What it would be like to find out you were Spider-man from some tabloid newspaper announcing your death?”

He stared at her, mouth open in shock. She kept going. “I know I hurt you, Peter. And betrayed you by lying. I am so, so sorry for that. Believe me, its the biggest regret of my life. But the thing is, I knew all along it would never end well between us. That’s why I tried so hard to stay away from you. To not get involved. But you kept pushing your way into my life, and you made me love you, and all the while you were hiding who you really were from me. You deceived me too.”

He shook his head and opened his mouth, but the opening of the door cut off what he was about to say.

“MJ?” Jemma called, stepping into the room. “I just wanted to warn you that Peter is…” she tailed off, noticing the other figure in the room, “…here.” She looked between the two of them with a wince. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

“Yes,” Peter answered.

“No,” MJ said, at the same time. “Peter was just leaving.”

He stared at her, his expression unreadable. She missed the way he used to look at her, with warmth in those beautiful deep brown eyes and a gentle smile on his lips. She hadn’t seen that Peter in so long…

And she never would again.

He clearly still hated her.

And she couldn’t continue this fight with him. Not when she felt so wiped out and raw. She’d been running on fumes and desperation for days and it was taking all her effort just to stand still without swaying from fatigue. She wanted him to leave so she could try to rebuild her heart again. The flimsy scar tissue that patched her heartbreak from 6 months ago had torn open under his harsh words and accusations.

Jemma - obviously sensing that she was at the end of her rope - took Peter by the arm. “I think you should go.” She steered him out the door and closed it behind him.

The moment the door clicked shut, MJ collapsed to the floor, blacking out from exhaustion.

———

A few days later…

“Peter!” The banging on his apartment door was accompanied by his Aunt’s angry voice. “Let me in right now.”

He sighed and lumbered off the couch. He’d tried to explain to May in several text messages why he’d left SHIELD early, and why he wasn’t feeling up for company…but she obviously wasn’t buying it.

Probably because he’d fed her a load of bullshit.

The truth was, seeing MJ again - so suddenly and unexpectedly - had clarified certain things in his mind…and he was struggling to know how to deal with them. So he’d escaped from the SHIELD base and come back to his apartment, where he’d been holed up for the past few days.

Wallowing in misery.

And reliving those few minutes on the base, over and over again. Those few minutes between first spotting that flash of red hair in the corridor, and finding MJ in her room.

Those few minutes, when the possibility of seeing her again had made him feel…excited.

Even…happy.

Those few minutes proved that his feelings for her had never really changed or gone away. They had just been buried under layers of hurt, anger and denial.

Ever since MJ had left all those months ago he’d tried so hard to convince himself that he was better off without her. That he was better off alone. That his experiences with her - and with Gwen - were fate’s way of telling him that he was meant to be on his own. That a happy ever after wasn’t in the books for him.

To that end, he’d created the narrative in his head that MJ was a stranger to him, and the woman he’d fallen in love with was just a figment of her imagination.

That mantra was how he got himself through the day. It was the dirt he heaped upon his true feelings that kept them buried down deep.

He’d repeat it to himself, whenever he found himself getting lost in a memory of the two of them together.

MJ was a stranger; Jane was a figment.

He’d repeat it to himself on those mornings when he woke up after a night of dreaming of her.

MJ was a stranger; Jane was a figment.

He repeated it so often that he willed it into reality. Until it became his truth.

But it wasn’t.

Those few minutes in the base exposed it for the lie it was.

And, if he was honest with himself, he’d known before that. Because on that night by the docks, when the freezing black water had closed over his face and the toxic gas had burned his lungs…all he could think about was her. And all he could see was her face.

Not Jen’s.

Not Maria’s.

Not even Jane’s.

The face he saw in his dying moments belonged to MJ.

And when he was pulled from the water and became lost in the maelstrom of fear and panic brought on by his hyperactive senses… all he could do was gasp her name. Again and again.

Because he believed her.

He believed she was telling the truth. That he hadn’t fallen in love with a mirage or a figment. That she wasn’t a stranger.

He had fallen in love with MJ.

MJ woman he was meant to be with.

That was why the thought of seeing her again had made him feel so elated.

But the distrust he felt towards her was still there. Because she was right; he’d immediately thought the worst of her upon finding her in that SHIELD uniform. His paranoid, suspicious mind had jumped straight to the worst conclusion - that she had been a SHIELD agent all along.

It was a ridiculous thought. He knew - he KNEW - that she had gone after Allard and the serum for her sister, and not because it was some assignment handed down by Fury. But he couldn’t stop the flood of accusations from pouring forth.

It was no wonder that she’d hit back with her own accusation: that he’d pushed for the relationship while keeping his own dangerous secret from her.

She was right.

He was a hypocrite.

That voice message that she’d left had tapped into his worst fear - the one born the night of Gwen's death. That someday he'd lose someone else he loved because he wasn't quick enough. Strong enough. Enough of a hero to save them.

Knowing how close he'd come to losing her had terrified him. But knowing that it was because she'd willingly put herself in harms way, without trusting him to help her...that made him mad as hell.

But he put himself in danger all the time as Spider-man. And he’d never once stopped to think how she would feel if something happened to him.

So, yeah. He was a hypocrite.

And he still loved her.

But he didn’t know if he could ever trust her.

Or if it mattered anymore. She probably hated him now after their latest confrontation.

Sighing again, he opened the door for his Aunt and winced at the angry look on her face.

“So you’re alive,” she said, eyeing him up and down.

“I texted you last night. You didn’t need to come over and check on me.”

She huffed and stepped into the kitchen, dumping the plastic bag she carried on his countertop. The smell of Chinese food from the restaurant around the corner made his mouth water.

“Peter, you were in a coma three days ago. I think I’m entitled to be worried about you.”

He winced again. She was right. He hugged her from behind, stilling her movements. “I’m sorry.”

She patted his arms where they folded over her stomach. “You’re forgiven. Now grab some plates. I can hear your stomach grumbling so we better eat fast.”

He complied and soon they were seated on his couch, eating in silence. He was hungrier than he thought. Wallowing didn’t afford a lot of time for self care.

The moment May finished and put her plate aside, she fixed him with a probing stare. “Now spill it. Why did you really run away from SHIELD?”

He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I saw MJ while I was there.”

It was her turn to sigh. “I was afraid of that.”

He sat up straight. “Wait, you knew?”

“Of course I knew! She wasn’t exactly hiding. She was with you almost the entire time.”

“With me? What do you mean, with me?”

“Peter…” she looked at him in confusion. “How do you think you recovered from the radiation?”

“I figured my powers healed me. Then once the radiation wore off, I woke up.”

He shook her head slowly. “No, Peter. MJ healed you. She’s the only reason you’re alive right now.”

His mind went blank. “What?”

“She came over from England and spent days healing you while the radiation cleared. And just to be clear, this wasn’t some big secret. She wanted you to know what she’d done. She didn’t want any more secrets between you-”

Peter put up a hand to stop her, needing a moment to process. To slot his memories into this new paradigm. Those waves of love and warmth that he’d felt during his coma…that had been her.

That had been MJ healing him. Over and over.

Holy shit.

May continued, oblivious to his shock. “While the radiation cleared, she had to constantly heal all the damage it was causing, otherwise you would have died. She was at it for hours everyday and nearly killed herself in the process-“ She stopped and bit her lip.

Peter’s head shot up. “She what?” His mind flashed back to MJ on the SHIELD base. How gaunt and fragile she’d looked. It was because of him.

May closed her eyes. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

“What happened to no more secrets?”

“She didn’t want you to feel guilty. She feels bad enough about what she did when you were together-“

“So is that why she did this? As some kind of atonement?”

“Peter, no.” May took his hand. “She did it because she loves you. The poor girl was as terrified as I was when she found out about your coma.”

“Hold on, hold on. ’Poor girl’? The last time we spoke about MJ you were telling me I could do so much better than her. Now you sound as if you like her.”

She shrugged. “I do. I’ve gotten to know her now. She told me a bit about her background, and what’s she’s been through, and she told me why she did what she did, and…yes. I grew to like her.” She reached over to take his hand. “Peter, I know this will be difficult to hear but I think, maybe, you should try to forgive her. To consider giving her another chance-“

Peter tried to interrupt. “May, I-“

“No, listen. The two of you have so much in common, and you’re so alike. Both so stubborn and caring and brave. I think she could really be the one for you."

“Stop, May. I- I need to think about this.”

“What is there to think about? You love her, don’t you? There isn’t really any other explanation for how miserable you’ve been for the past six months.”

“I do love her,” he whispered. He’d spent the past few days coming to terms with that revelation, so saying the words aloud wasn’t a struggle. “But after that fight on the base…I’m not sure she feels the same way anymore.”

“Peter. One little fight won’t erase her feelings. She dropped everything to fly to your side and save you. She barely slept or ate for days. She pushed herself to the brink of exhaustion to help you. All the while thinking that you hated her. I saw her sit with you for hours and hours, pouring all of her strength and power into you, risking her own life. But when I asked her why she wouldn’t stay when you woke up, she said she couldn’t bear to see the look in your eyes when you saw her. Peter, that kind of love doesn’t just disappear overnight.”

“Even if you’re right-“

“I’m always right.”

He smiled. “Even if you’re right…I’m not sure if I can trust her again. And I don’t know whether she trusts me. We both kept secrets from each other.”

“Trust can be re-earned, Peter. It takes time, but if you’re willing to put in the work, it can be so worth it.” She squeezed his hand. “Wouldn’t it be worth it?”

It would be worth it. If they could recapture even a fraction of the happiness they experienced during their short time together, with none of the lies and secrets between them…it would be worth almost anything.

“You need to go,” he said to his Aunt.

“What? You’re kicking me out?” She sounded affronted.

“No. You need to go and get my passport from the house. I’m going to England to find MJ.”

———

“My flight’s delayed,” MJ said, shifting in the hard plastic seat, trying to find a comfortable position. She’d been at JFK for hours and hadn’t even checked in yet. “Apparently there’s bad weather on the west coast and the plane was stuck there for ages.”

“That sucks,” Mel replied on a yawn. It was ridiculously late in England.

“You should be in bed.”

“So should you. You sound exhausted.”

“I don't know why. I did nothing but sleep for four days.” After passing out in SHIELD, Jemma had taken her back to her place and she’d spent the next several days in her spare room recovering. Not wanting to overstay her welcome, she’d booked the first available flight home the moment she was feeling somewhat human again.

“Well, it doesn’t sound like it was enough,” Mel chastised. “You didn’t need to race home so fast.” She'd explained everything to Mel before leaving the UK. About Peter and Spider-man and the coma. It hadn't been her secret to tell, but she didn't want to lie to her sister anymore.

“I’m hardly racing back,” MJ replied. “I’ve been gone for nearly 10 days.”

“So what’s another couple more?” Mel asked. There was something in her tone that MJ recognised. Her sister was getting ready to meddle.

“Spit it out, Melly. What are you trying to get at?”

Her sister huffed. “Peter. I’m trying to get at Peter, and why you’re leaving without seeing him again.”

MJ sighed. “Not you too.” She’d heard similar statements from Jemma. She told her sister what she told her friend. “He wouldn’t want to see me. He hates me and doesn’t trust me.”

“He’d just woken up from a coma and found you in the last place he expected. Cut him some slack. He probably didn’t even know what he was even saying.”

“Hey, whose side are you on?”

“Yours. Always. Even when you’re being an idiot. You need to fight to get him back.”

“He’s better off without me, so just drop it.”

“I won’t. Not when you’re being such a coward.”

“Hey!” she shouted. The teenager in the next seat turned to glare at her. She dropped her voice to a harsh whisper. “I am not.”

“Am too,” was the reply from her very mature, soon-to-be-married sister. “I know you, Emmy. And I’ve watched you push people away your whole life. Friends at school. Guys who were interested in you. You would make all these excuses to avoid getting close to anyone: You had to look after me. You were concentrating on Med School, you were too busy at work. Excuses, excuses. But then, all of a sudden, there was Peter. And you didn’t push him away. You let him in, and you sounded so amazingly happy with him-“

“It was a mistake, Mel. I should never have gotten involved with him. Not when I was keeping so many secrets. It was selfish.”

“Yeah, okay the circumstances weren’t great,” Mel conceded. “But you deserved to be selfish for once. You missed out on so much of your life raising me, then helping me when I got sick. This entire last year was about saving me. When are you going to live for you?”

“It’s too late with Peter,” MJ whispered.

“No, that’s the cowardice talking. You’re just afraid. You opened yourself up to someone for the first time ever and it scared you how much you needed him. How much you loved him. And how much it would hurt if something happened to him again. Do you think I’m not terrified of that exact thing with Jack?”

She hadn't really considered that her sister would have the same doubts about her relationship. “How do you stand it?”

“By remembering that life is short. I know that better than anyone - I spent years living on borrowed time. We have to grab happiness when and where we can, and we can’t let the fear of tomorrow hold us back. It’s cliched, but you have to ask yourself: is it better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all? My answer is definitely to opt for love.”

“Yeah, but you’ve always been a glass-half-full kind of person. Me? Not so much.”

“I know. But how’s that been working out for you? Are you happy?”

She kicked at the backpack lying at her feet in frustration. “You do know that you’re the baby sister, right? You’re not supposed to be the one dispensing truth-bombs and wisdom. That’s my job.”

“Oh. My. God,” Mel growled. “That’s exactly my point. It’s not your job anymore. You raised me. Your job is done. I’m raised. I’m an adult woman about to become someone’s wife. You need to start living for yourself.”

MJ’s phone beeped. She glanced at the screen. “Shit, my battery’s about to die.”

“Conveniently saved by the beep,” Mel joked. “Ok, I’ll let you go. But before you decide to get on that plane, I want you to ask yourself two questions and promise that you’ll answer honestly. You promise?”

“I promise,” MJ said, never able to deny her sister anything.

“OK. Number 1: Do you want to be with Peter? And number 2: Is he worth risking your heart for? Think about it carefully, OK?”

MJ swallowed. "Ok.”

“Good. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

She disconnected the call then rummaged in her bag for the charger. Noticing a free socket by the window she moved her things closer and plugged her phone in. She stood and faced the glass, squinting to get a look at the taxiing planes; but the darkening evening sky and the bright lights of the terminal served only to offer up her own reflection instead of the runway below.

She stared at her face.

Her face.

After a year of living as someone else, it had taken a while to get used to seeing her own reflection again. But now the woman in the glass looked familiar...and she looked sad. So very sad.

Mel was right. She wasn't happy. She'd never truly been happy since the day she'd lost her parents.

Except for her time with Peter. He'd brought her to life. And for the first time ever, she'd opened herself up to love...and it had been wonderful.

So the answer to the first question - did she want to be with Peter? - was ‘yes’. A resounding, unequivocal 'yes'. It was the second question she struggled with.

Because if she was truly honest with herself...the only reason she'd taken the risk with Peter in the first place was because she knew there was an expiration date to their relationship. He was always going to hate her in the end. It was never going to last between them.

That certainty was reassuring in a weird way.

And when it had inevitably gone wrong, she hadn’t tried to get him back. She’d accepted the loss. Because the alternative meant really, truly risking her heart.

Was he worth that risk?

If she someone managed to convince him to give her another chance...could she really, 100% give her heart to him not knowing what might happen in the future?

He could leave her.

He could get sick, like Mel. Or, more likely - given his nighttime activities - he could be killed. Just like her parents.

He could fall out of love with her, or break her heart in numerous devastating ways.

Or...

Or they could grow old together and live a spectacular life. They could have a happily ever after.

Was he worth the risk?

Yes.

She laughed at the woman in the glass as the simple answer came to her.

Yes. He was worth it. Of course he was. He was Peter. Beautiful, brave, kind, funny, clever Peter. The man she loved. The man she wanted to be with.

No matter what.

She had to find him.

She had to beg for another chance.

She quickly grabbed her semi-charged phone and the rest of her stuff and practically ran through the terminal, ignoring the tannoy announcing that her plane had finally landed.

She didn't need it anymore. What she needed was a cab.

She jostled onto the long escalator that led down to the exit and squeezed in behind an older couple. A flight must have just disembarked, because the narrow stairway was packed with people. She popped her headphones on and scrolled through her phone, looking for a loud track to drown out the noise of the crowd.

As she glanced back up, she noticed a guy with a familiar-looking mop of tousled brown hair pass by her on the 'up' escalator. She tried to follow his retreating figure but the crowd around her was too tight.

It didn't matter. It wouldn't be Peter - why would he be at the airport?

She smiled. Now that she'd decided to go to him, she was seeing Peter everywhere!

She left the escalator and made her way out of the sliding doors and into the cold New York evening, where a row of yellow taxis was waiting to take her to him.

CHAPTER 17

#spider-man #the amazing spider-man #spiderman #spider-man: no way home #spider-man x original character #tasm!peter fanfiction #TASM!Peter #Peter 3 #peter parker x original character #tasm #tasm fic #tasm!#TASM!spider-man #my fic #Given to Fly

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slowpokegamer · 3 years

Text

So it's Ninjago's 10th Anniversary :D I was originally going to draw the ninja for today but I thought on it a bit,, and I wanted to do something a little more personal to celebrate

I was only 10 years old when Ninjago first aired and was an undiagnosed autistic child who wasn't really allowed to enjoy anything outside of the stuff my family provided. Ninjago was the first special interest I was allowed to explore outside of all the girly and feminine stuff my mom forced on me and was the reason I continued drawing and writing. I'm going to be 20 this July, and I thought it would be fun if I just talked about how Ninjago affected me and the kind of impact it had on me growing up :'') So I'm gonna talk a bit about that under the cut

Ninjago was one of my first special interests I discovered on my own and I honestly think I have it to thank for me wanting to start drawing and writing. I used to draw in early elementary school and dropped it for awhile for some reason I don't remember, but when I started watching Ninjago and got more into the story, I picked drawing back up and started writing and creating stories again. The stories I made up didn't make a lot of sense, but they helped me cope through a lot of the stuff going on with my family and school, and it really cemented art and writing becoming one of my main coping mechanisms

Along with making me want to continue to create, Ninjago was the first thing that caused me to start to question myself about my gender. I really had no concept of gender identity back then, all I knew was that I didn't feel right and being allowed to watch Ninjago, something viewed as a "boys show," was euphoric. I started to engage in more typically masculine things, wanting boys clothes and shorter hair and I actually started to feel more like myself :') Also I had the WORST gender envy for aged up Lloyd Garmadon and I never realized it until like a month ago, so these stupid little lego ninjas are the reason I'm trans. Say "thank you Ninjago" 💕💕

Back then I had pretty much no friends and everything I did and created was for myself and only myself, and while that was perfectly okay, I did feel incredibly lonely like 80% of the time :')) Deciding to rewatch Ninjago during quarantine was one of the best things I could have done, because not only did I reopen the holy grail of hyperfixations and see where the series continued after I stopped watching in 6th grade, but I also got my friends into it and was able to talk about enjoy the show with them!

That's kind of what this drawing represents, me being 10 and alone and becoming completely entranced by a show for the very first time, and now me being almost 20 and introducing one of my favorite things to my friends and them being interested and supportive of it :'> Also just unsuspecting baby me watching something and being completely unaware of how much of an impact it would have on like my ENTIRE life

I know it seems kind of silly to feel this much about a dumb little lego show for kids, but Ninjago really does mean a lot to me and I'm not sure where or who I would be right now if I had never seen it back in 2011. I think no matter how old I get, Ninjago will always be something I hold close to my heart. It's gotten me through a lot of hard times and knowing me, it will continue to get me through hard times

Also to commemorate 10 years of Ninjago,, I think it would be nice to share some of my old ninjago art (´-﹏-`；) I used to have a lot more, but a lot of it was destroyed when I moved houses back in middle school. I have never shared these outside of my groupchat so please don't laugh too hard at me, but heres a look at the kind of things Ninjago sparked in baby me's creative mind

An out of context comic page from a Warrior Cats crossover I had created (my OC Greentail was originally Lloyd wayyy back when and I will never let myself live that down) I think I was 10 or 11 when I drew this

Ohmygod,, I actually don't remember much of the context of this? I think it was an OC story I was creating that also just happened to feature the ninja because I did that A LOT- So this is Kai and one of my very old and forgotten OCs arguing over something, I was probably like 11 or 12 when this was drawn

And two OCs I never did anything with, which is kind of shame :''') I was 13 when this was drawn

So yeah,, Ninjago means a lot to me and it has since it first aired :'D I'm looking forward to seeing where the show will continue in the future

#ninjago #ninjago 10th anniversary #long post #my art #pokesdoodles

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botwstoriesandsuch · 3 years

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Whats your method for transcribing music from BotW? And, while I'm at it, whats your method for composing?

oh?? Oh??? OH??? Questions about music? Questions about composing for Kip?? You know not what waters you have just unleashed.

Ok so for the first question, I just transcribe based on the internet, and just by listening to the soundtrack by ear. I kinda just stitch together the melody based on sheet music on musescore, and covers on youtube, and I just kinda see how those versions are composed and then based on that I craft how I want the music to sound on my own version.

I have this decade old Yamaha DGX640 keyboard that only has five song slots so the most I can(know how to) do is record one two-handed harmony and use my phone to record me playing the melody on top of that. But it’s kinda tedious and the botw songs are usually easy enough to play with just two hands anyhow so I really only use that method when I wanna be fancy. I have a habit of just using left to play arpeggios and by then the music usually sounds full enough. (cough cough that Rito Village one cough cough) So yeah it’s basically a method of studying the basic material online and then making up and crafting whatever stuff sounds nice around it

As for the original comps, well they’re all usually based on some botw concept (as I’m guessing most of the ones you’ve all seen are just the oc themes lol) so I do one of two methods. The first method is I take the key signature of a botw melody that is related to the thing I’m composing for, then I fuck around on a keyboard until I have a melody I think sounds cool. USUALLY I make it on a typical build to coda/climax thing, but the example I’m using is an exception (cause it was my first draft and all I did was repeat the first half with additional harmony)

Ok so I take the key signature, I craft my original part of the music, and then based on the “story” I want to tell, I fuse in a bit of the botw bits within “lows” of the song. So in Zimiri’s Theme for example, I had this certain segment of Kass’ Theme that I liked, so I started based on that key signature. Then I just completely forget about botw while I compose the parts for my character. So Zimiri is a Sheikah poet for the royal family, and also a bard, so I made his theme in 3 to give it that waltz feel. The Eflat key has that...idk the technical term, but it just has that vibe of kindness and serenity and wisdom which is what I’m going for in his character. Now, Zimiri also has a crush on Zelda, but he knows that’s unrequited and he’s mostly ok with that, but that doesn’t stop him from at least dreaming of some unreality where he could dance with her under the stars (uh fic spoilers I guesss). Hence, his main melody, (0:10) the half note Eflat to D to Bflat, is of the same beat pattern of Zelda’s lullaby. And then, uh character arc spoilers! The story I’ve constructed for Zimiri is basically this idea that he comes to understand this battle between what he wants and what he knows he needs to do. He has a harmless crush on Zelda, but he knows he needs to respect her and do what he can as her friend during these rough times. [I mention Zelda a lot but I swear that’s only like 7% of his character] He recognizes that Adello and Revali and a bit of Link, they all want to [REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED] but he tries to push them to be more [REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED], even if that isn’t always successful. He’s mostly a static character, that recognizes what other people want, but wants to help them be better through what they need, which is an ironic trait since it’s a bit contradictory to his whimsical and almost naive cinnamon bun personality as a bard. But that’s like his main thing, you see like, he wants nothing more than to be the hero of the story and to wield a sword and save everyone, and while its OK to dream that, he still is content and fills his role as support, as the “harmony,” the background to the melody if you will. So THAT is why, the song is crafted where it’s grounded into his main melody, those three notes, the halfnote Eflat, to D to Bflat, and while the song ascends and seems to dance in the stars and the harmony (wink wink parallels) rises and becomes more prominent over the course of the song, it ultimately always Always comes back down to those three main notes. It’s like a dream that will eventually fade back into reality. The whole song is an ascension to those higher, magical notes in the “stars,” that comes back down to the essentials of Zimiri, those three main notes, that as said before, are similar to Zelda’s Lullaby, but is purposefully, a full descension in the scale, it doesn’t rise.

Ok and then Finally, finally finally finally, we come back to that botw aspect. Like all of that, is just the original stuff and the thought that goes into where the notes go and how the stuff moves and plays out, it’s basically like planning a fic outline or something. But anyhow, this idea that I’ve been crafting for Zimiri’s theme, this concept that he understands that even though he might not be the one to save the world or see the fantastical end to the story, this whole ascension and descending thing, with the higher parts being a the stars that aren’t yet in your reach or the dreams that are not yet reality and all that sap? Right so now that’s when we can put a bit of Kass’ Theme into those higher parts. 0:33 and 1:07 are just bits of Kass’ Theme slowed down, specifically, the parts in Kass’ Final Song the time and sacrifice aspects of the legend. “Now resurrected after 10,000 years//Her appointed knight//Gives his life//Shields her figure and pays the price.” You could probably hear the “10,000 year” part most prominently. So one, the botw aspect serves to the themes that I’m going for in this character, and two, it serves as that connection between Zimiri and his eventually successor, a successor who would live out to see a dream that he couldn’t wooAAAoooh parallels. And even still, the segment that I’ve drawn out of Kass’ Theme still descends (seamlessly I might add, if to toot the horn a bit) into Zimiri’s core 3 note theme. So while I’ve written the piece to pick up at those whimsical parts, and to foreshadow and encompass the journey I have planned for this character, I’ve ultimately grounded the music itself to a specific scene that I have written, (and not yet posted I need to finish some other things) where Zimiri playing music to himself under the stars, the melody on his lute serving only to keep the sky company.

youtube

OH RIGHT and I said I had a second method for composing stuff didn’t I ahaha...this post it already way too long and full of uneditted rambling so maybe I’ll gush about that some other time :p

#fucking hell this sure is a #long post #botw music #zimiri #botw oc #mudkip music

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seaofthemind-art · 4 years

Text

The “Abuse” Trope in MCU Spider-Man Fan Fiction: Part 1

[Edit Note: This first post completely missed my point, and as such is now being continued in "Part 2". I have made several edits and additions to this post for coherence between the two.]

I became interested in these tropes partly due to what seemed to be its abundance within the fandom. Re-reading several stories recently led me to consider how this trope has been handled in the fandom, its variations and ways that it has been turned on its head, as well as stories ideas that have not been explored yet to my knowledge.

Within the "Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)" category on AO3 there are several overarching areas that would come under the trope of abuse.

To put it in context, on the 26th October 2020 there was 28,637 works in the category; this included 626 stories tagged as "child abuse", a total of more than 2% of the stories. Of course, as we well know, tagging on AO3 is not consistent: there will be "abuse" stories which do not use this tag, whilst the tag may also be referring to a range of characters' situations (ie: Tony's childhood, Flash's backstory, OC characters). However, for these posts I'm going to look at stories related to Peter's experiences.

For all the "popularity" of these stories in the fandom, it is just an example of what are wide spread tropes across media. TV Tropes lists several related tropes including Abusive Parents and Foster Kid, showing that it is not only this fandom in which it is common.TV Tropes also makes a good point in its Sliding Scale of Parent-Shaming in Fiction, in that: what one person classes as abusive behavior may be perfectly acceptable to another.

Major Plot Categories

One of the common targets for this trope is "May's Abusive Boyfriend", which seems to have grown in popularity in the last year as Endgame has provided a convenient set-up for this trope:

the second law of thermodynamics by extraordinarythings

"It happens the same way it always does. (It's just discipline. It's not that bad. It's fine, Peter is fine, he'll be fine--). Except he really isn't fine, and Tony knows something's up, and Peter's house of cards is falling apart, and so the story goes."

Who Saves The Hero by CamelotQueen

“May brings home her new boyfriend. Something about him makes Peter feel nervous, but he makes May happy. And if May's happy, then Peter is happy. Then it escalates.”

Fear all else but never me. Please. by Webtrinsic

“May's new boyfriend proves himself to be a grade A-asshole when he decides to abuse Peter. And that doesn't sit well with Tony at all.”

i get by (but it’s eating me alive) by Livinei

““Do you not want to be home?” Tony starts. “No.” Tony considers for a moment. Peter’s never not wanted to be home. Not before… Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t know a lot about David. Peter doesn’t bring him up a lot, and when he does then he’s not very eager to discuss it for long. Tony hasn’t gotten an impression that Peter’s particularly fond of the guy, though.”

The Homes We Make by iamq

“Peter Parker isn't the type of boy to run crying to Tony Stark because he can't handle a punch. Michelle Jones and Ned Leeds aren't the type of friends to ignore Peter's rapidly declining health. Eugene "Flash" Thompson isn't an idiot.”

to this day by hopeless_hope

“It's months before anyone realizes May's boyfriend abuses Peter. The effects are lasting.”

Promotions Aren’t Always A Good Thing by Agib

“When May gets a new boyfriend, Peter's okay. When Carter moves in, he can deal. When May gets a promotion so she works days and Carter works nights, Peter finds it harder to deal. When Carter starts abusing him, he begins to feel crushed by the weight of it all.”

The Black And The Blue (All That It Takes Out of You) by Buckets_of_Stars

“David wasn't a person Peter would ever want to be around, but with him being May's new boyfriend and all, it makes it harder and harder to avoid him. But it was fine, May was happy and of course, Peter still has Tony. But that was before the hitting started. Before David spit neglectful words in his face and the spiderling begins to question his very worth.Tony, on the other hand, is not having it.”

Vertigo by GalaxyThreads

“Coming back from the dead wasn't nearly as awesome as TV made it out to be. Peter's learning this on the go. And it really doesn't help that May's new husband absolutely hates him. And that May is pretty ignorant of that and him now. But it's all fine. Really.”

Your Heart Changed (mine stayed the same) by @loboselinaistrash [WIP]

"Peter Parker is back but 5 years into the future and the world has changed. Peter goes home with May only to find she had moved on, with a husband and two kids. Peter struggles to find his place in this new family with a strict step uncle, the longer he's there the harder he finds it to stay on his good side, uncertain if May will believe him."

A Peter Parker Problem by @spagbol99 [WIP]

"Peter comes back to find May has a husband and a kid. A new family he has to fit into. But he has done it before, he can do it again. The only thing that feels solid is Tony: the Blip and fatherhood have mellowed him and Peter loves the bond they have now. He knows Tony would be there for him through anything. But Tony needs to focus on his own recovery - not small time Peter Parker problems. When things at home take a turn for the worse, Peter decides that he'll handle it himself. He is Spider-man. He's been to space and fought aliens. He can get through anything. After all, if May is happy, he is happy, right? Right?"

This premise has been turned on it's head by a couple of authors with the straight opposite of this trope in "May has a new boyfriend who is decent (and confused)":

The Secrets We Keep by @euphoric-melancholyy

"May has a really awesome, loving boyfriend who's just a little confused as to why she lets her teenage son stay out til 1 every night and sleep somewhere else every weekend. Also, he’s friends with Tony Stark? Chris - May’s new boyfriend - feels like he’s missing something here."

A Good Kid by kuragay

"Ricky thinks that May's an exceptional woman, and he thinks that Peter's an exceptional kid. But there's no denying that the Parker household is full of mysteries, and most of them are centered around Peter and his supposed internship with Tony Stark."

Then there has also been several stories changing the abuser, such as in the concept of "What if May (or Ben) is the abusive carer?":

Brooklyn by @hailing-stars [part of a longer series]

"After leaving Peter with Tony and months of no contact, May shows up in Peter's life again, interrupting Tony's plans to adopt him. Peter has to decide who he wants to live with, but soon learns the decision may really not be his."

Parker Luck by CreepyLittleLullaby

"He never met one, he got left behind by the other, the next one died, and the only one he had left was pushing him away. And he doesn't know what to do. Peter really has rotten luck when it comes to parental figures. No matter how hard he tries. Parker luck will always prevail."

Please, Understand by jipseebree

"When Aunt May discovers that he's Spider-Man, something inside her snaps. She starts to abuse him and he deserves it, doesn't he? After all, people have died because of him. People who wouldn't have died if he was a better hero."

Spiders hunt alone, anyway by karma_is_a_turtle [WIP]

"Ben’s death hits the Parker family hard, May worst of all. May Parker struggles to cope with her husband’s death and her nine-year-old nephew grows up learning how to pick up her slack."

Always Silent, Peter Darling by LlibLo

“After a traumatic experience at age 6, Peter Parker hasn't spoken a word. Most blame it on the fact that he witnessed his Uncle die in a horrible fire, this is only partly true. Now, almost 10 years later Peter is given the chance to finally speak, but will he take it? Or is the fear of his Aunt to much for him to take that chance? Either way, Tony Stark can tell something's not quite right about the kind hearted May Parker.“

It’s All Just Static In My Head by Blue__Dreams

“And then May was shot. Foolishly, childishly, Peter hoped Iron Man would swoop in and save the day again. He hoped and hoped and hoped. And Ben drank and drank and drank. As Ben grew worse, and their fridge grew empty, as Peter’s face became more bruised, and his powers grew, Peter realized, you can’t depend on superheroes. So Peter created his own hero - Spiderman.“

I told you I had issues by Bergen

“Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and right now, a little exasperated. Because some guy is swinging around New York, shooting webs and making trouble, Fury is breathing down his neck, and his latest intern took off with his coupon for a free coffee.“

Another focus for the abuse trope are the "Skip Wescott" stories, which take their concept and the character from a one-shot from the comics. @irondadfics has a good rec list for this. Many of the stories take it further than the comic that inspired them, and within the fandom it has also become common to see it re-mixed in variations of “Abused by Other Person of Authority” AKA: Babysitter/Teacher/Foster Carer/etc.

Although Skip is a common character for authors to use when they need a character as the abuser who isn't a complete original character, both original characters do appear as well as other characters from within the MCU.

The Third Option by Uncertainty_Principle

“Ben and May divorced before Peter’s parents died, so when Ben is murdered Peter goes into foster care. It takes just a tiny taste of superpowers for Peter to decide he doesn’t want to put up with his horrible foster father anymore—the streets are infinitely more appealing. All he wants is to be Spider-Man anyway.“

take a look at me now, there's just an empty space by @lyssismagical

“As much as Peter does want to disappear to his bedroom and avoid the awkward attempts at a one-sided conversation or inquiries about the life Tony’s read about, he craves the closeness to another person. The last time he felt properly close to someone was May. Every home in between had people who tried or people who didn’t, either way, it never felt the same. He was just another mouth to feed, another set of house visits and questionnaires from Elaine, another troubled kid under their roof. He was never treated like a human being, like a kid.“

Like A Flame That Flickered Out Too Soon... by @mysterycheerio

““He did this to you?”. Peter nodded. “And this is why you haven’t been talking?”. Another nod. Tony left the room in a hurry. Peter didn’t know where he went. Pepper knew. Rhodey knew. The whole damn neighbourhood around Stark Mansion knew, his yells were so loud.”

The Education Complication by Buckets_Of_Stars

“When young Peter Stark was diagnosed with Asthma, he was given two very important rules to always follow: 1. No long distance running. 2. Always have your inhaler with you. But when a new Gym Teacher with a hatred toward Iron Man gets hired, the 13 year old is going to find that following these two simple steps has never been more difficult.”

This is just a selection of the stories which can be found on AO3, from which it should be already clear that these cover a wide range of treatments of the subject.

Across all the categories, the reactions of characters to the abuse is varied; as well as some notable omissions in the range of stories.

This we will look at in Part 2.

#fan fiction #fan fic rec #story ideas #mcu #irondad #fanfic recs #spider-man #fan fiction reviews #tropes #now a multi-part discussion #too much time reading fan fiction

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