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phoenix-reburned · 3 years

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The Eagle: An Alternate Take to the AnR Theory

Before I begin this post, I want to preface this by saying that if the AnR ending happens, I will be sad but not disappointed, this is simply a thought I had that I hadn’t seen anyone else propose. I won’t be discussing why people believe that the eagle is Eren, although I know that there’s a lot of symbolism regarding it. This is simply my own thoughts on how Isayama could have a tragic ending that destroys us while also keeping some people alive.

Spoilers under the cut for both the manga and season four of the anime, you’ve been warned. Also long post, sorry.

First of all, if you have not yet watched the Akatsuki no Requiem video, I highly recommend you do that before continuing to read this post. Here’s the video:

youtube

For those of you that don’t know, the AnR theory states that the eagle in this video represents Eren and that this video basically spoils the entire ending of AOT. But what if the eagle isn’t actually Eren? What if it’s another character, telling the story of how they ended a war through bloodshed and lost their closest friends on the way? What if the same person telling us this story in the video is the same person who’s been telling us this story the whole time?

I believe that the eagle in this video is actually Armin Arlet, and that this is him recounting how he stopped the rumbling. This mixes in some of the Lebouch (?) theory, but not in the way you think.

Let’s start with something most people overlook about his character: Armin is extremely manipulative when he needs to be. He was able to convince Pixis that Eren wasn’t an enemy, quickly became a strategist that even Erwin trusted, and told Bertholt that someone he cared about deeply was being brutally tortured to save Eren. In his current position in the manga based upon the 137 leaks, he’s been able to take control of some of the titans away from Ymir. Whether or not he’s really done this or this is apart of Ymir’s plan is up for speculation, but for now let’s just assume that he did this of his own accord. He was able to talk Zeke into dying for humanity, a literal nihilist who killed countless people. Armin clearly will get his hands dirty if it benefits his plan, as shown multiple times. He’s not innocent.

Something else that helped me come to this conclusion, although this isn’t necessarily a huge reason I believe it, is that Armin is the one telling us this story. He’s been our narrator since season one. If Isayama wanted to kill him, why not just have Eren be the narrator? If Armin’s dead it makes no sense for him to be able to tell us the story even if you take the paths into consideration, since you can’t interact with anything or anyone in there.

Last thing before I get into the video is that Armin is being treated like a god right now by the titans on Eren in 137. The creator of the trojan horse theory (@/localhangeluvr on twitter), which is another inspiration for my theory, made a thread showing this and the similarities between Armin and the devils in Ymir’s story. This shows that he is going to be extremely important to the ending, whether or not he lives or dies. This thread also discusses the idea of Armin being the eagle, but we came to different conclusions based upon that idea.

Now let’s get into the video. The first thing I want to point out is the appearance of the color blue. We first see this when the eagle cries and dyes the baby eagle(?) blue. Later on, it reappears on the butterflies. The character that is most associated with this color is Armin, through his love of the ocean. His eyes are also blue in the anime, although blue for the ocean fits better since they’re hazel in the manga. The first time we meet Armin, he’s also wearing blue. Maybe this represents him wishing for a simpler time, before the fall of wall Maria?

Another thing, the grave the eagle visits. Look at the symbol on it.

To me, it resembles a snake eating it’s own tail. This makes me think of Eren, someone who ended up becoming what he hated most. First in the form of a titan, then in the form of a mass murderer. This could very well be Eren’s grave that the eagle visits, meaning he could be crying because of the knowledge that he killed the person that was once his best friend.

Next, let’s examine the thing on top of the baby eagle’s head, which also reappears later in the eagle’s library.

This clearly is supposed to be the wings of freedom. If Eren was the eagle, why would he hold onto the wings? At this point, he’s completely abandoned the scouts. Why would he want to keep anything what reminded him of what became his enemy around? These questions disappear if this is actually Armin though, as he would have no reason to renounce the scouts.

Another interesting thing is that the eagle has blue eyes when he has the lizard/frog mask on, but his actual eyes are brown. As I mentioned before, Armin has blue eyes in the anime but hazel in the manga. This could be another subtle hint to the eagle’s identity.

Next, the lack of walls in the sky city, or the fact that this is what it represents. This is when the Lebouch theory comes into play. While I don’t necessarily believe that Eren wants to be stopped, I do believe that if he is killed and the rumbling ends, that this will create peace. A scene all the way back in season one makes me believe this. After Eren agrees to try to seal the wall, he takes a walk with Pixis. To paraphrase what is said, Pixis states that only a world ending event could truly bring humanity together. Well, I do think an attempted mass genocide would be world ending enough to do it. Plus, there’s the fact that if the alliance stops it, that would put Paradis and the eldians back into the world’s good graces. And if one of them gets their hands on the founding, there’s also a possibility that they could completely remove all titans from the world.

The family is another reason a lot of people assume that this is Eren we’re watching because of his and Historia’s possible relationship in the manga, if you believe that Historia’s child is his (which I do, but that’s not super relevant right now). But that’s not necessarily what’s happening here. If someone’s able to reverse the curse of Ymir, then this COULD be Armin and Annie’s family. If Armin and Annie’s feelings for each other wasn’t important, why bring it up right at the end of the story? At this point there’s no reason for Isayama to show us that they like each other UNLESS it plays a role in the prologue. Or, maybe it’s to make Annie’s death sadder if he does kill her, but since she’s still alive I’m sticking with option a. I’m not sure if the cat means anything, however black cats are usually regarded as an omen of death. This could be a reminder that Armin killed Eren.

Another clue is the library.

It’s shown to be very expansive, clearly showing that whoever owns it loves to read. Only one character comes to mind when you think about books.

The lizard family is next.

Notice that it’s a father, mother and child. Maybe Armin will have to end up killing both Historia and her child along with Eren? Or this could just show Armin’s regrets at the deaths he’s caused in general.

In the ruins, we again see the image of a snake eating it’s tail. Possibly representing the damage that Eren caused with the rumbling?

Now the butterflies. Possibly one of the biggest reasons why people believe that Eren is the eagle.

In total, we see 10 butterflies. I believe that this does represent the alliance as they attempt to stop Eren, and shows that about 5 of them will die. I believe that the first death is either represented by Hange or Zeke, depending on how you view it. Maybe Zeke, as he was an outlier to the group until his death. I believe that Levi, Reiner, and Pieck will be the last three deaths. To add to this, the ground shot also only shows five butterflies, meaning that more than likely the rest of the alliance will live.

Right after these deaths, the baby eagle is shown preparing to fight. I believe that this means that these last three deaths will happen in quick succession and drive Armin overboard, causing him to do what Mikasa won’t and kill Eren.

Next, we see both eagles in a field of graves, showing that Armin regrets not being able to save more people. Maybe he even blames himself for their deaths, wishing he had stopped Eren earlier.

While I know that Mikasa is the one to wake Eren up from under the tree, maybe this shows that Armin is the one who says ‘see you later’ before she does?

I believe that this represents Armin realizing that, without Eren’s destruction, they never would have gotten peace. I believe that him dropping the arrow represents him feeling a kind of gratitude towards him, in a weird way?

And then the end of the video just shows us again that, while Eren did ultimately bring about peace, it came at a heavy price.

A few more things to mention:

1. The lyrics DO tie into chapter titles, while I won’t list them here going through the comments of this video will show all of them to you.

2. Armin’s last name literally means eagle.

That’s the end to my theory! Basically, I believe that Armin will kill Eren and that peace will be achieved, however it won’t be a happy ending for anyone involved.

There’s a few things about the video that I can’t necessarily explain, like the eagle’s lost leg. Though maybe, if they do rid the world of titans, if Armin is injured while killing Eren he’ll end up losing it? It’s something I’ll keep an eye out for over these last few chapters. Another thing is the revealed last manga panel. Most people do believe that it’s Eren (for good reason), we never get that confirmation. If this is after another time skip, that could be another character, hell maybe it’s even Armin talking to his and Annie’s child.

That’s it from me though. Let me know what yall think, if you think it’s plausible or tell me that I’m wrong, I don’t care lol. Proofs to either disprove or prove this would be great if yall find any! Thanks for reading my longass post.

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sarinataylor · 5 years

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Reverse blind date Joger where someone deliberately stands Roger up to teach him a lesson because he is such a player and John watching from the bar realises he is upset

oooooh ok. ok. ok

so roger is like. he’s got a rep around campus? it’s not necessarily a bad one per say, but. he’s pretty and he’s confident and yeah, he dates a lot. bc roger is a secret romantic tbh ok

not like freddie’s a romantic though. like freddie wants to fall in love and then never ever ever break up with the person he falls in love with because he wants to buy a house and forty cats with them. like freddie genuinely believes he’s incomplete without someone to love and be loved by in return which roger thinks is Super Unhealthy

so roger’s not romantic like that. roger just…. enjoys the excitement of first date? getting to know someone, letting them get to know you, enjoying those first flushes of could-be-love. roger even somewhat likes when things start to fall apart bc there’s beauty in that too. there’s something beautiful in being able to recognise that you’re not right for another.

so he dates a lot. which, again, isn’t a bad thing. he doesn’t date for the sake of dating? he just. if there’s someone he finds interesting or attractive or funny? he’ll ask them out.

(this is how he met brian who awkwardly agreed and then blurted out half way through dinner that he was straight, he just didn’t know how to say no. they stay for the whole meal and end up somehow being like… best friends by the end of it.)

(a lot of roger’s friends are people he’s dated in the past, actually)

but yanno for every sort of ex that you’re on good terms with there’s gonna be someone you’re. decidedly not. and ok, rog will be the first? (maybe second actually, freddie will generally be the first) to admit that he’s sometimes not the most….. tactful at breaking off some of the more casual dating he does

like he doesnt ghost on actual relationships but there’s…. there’s definitely some ghosting that’s gone down in the past. some very early cases where he wasnt very clear on the non-exclusive nature of the dating???

he was young(er) and stupid okay he has like. a comprehensive set of rules now (a. establish that dates are not exclusive unless explicitly discussed, as all major relationship developments should be. b. no fucking the people you date unless you’re interested in an Actual Relationship bc it blurs lines!!!!! it confuses ppl!!!!!! c. if someone has a rep as a clinger listen to that reputation instead of their insightful analysis in class. the reputation precedes interesting dinner conversation. every. time.)

(brian is like???? have u heard YOUR reputation???? and roger is like well yeah but. no one calls me clingy, do they? which brian has to concede that, no, they decidedly do not.)

BUT the important thing to note here is that roger dates a lot of people because he genuinely enjoys dating people, he enjoys getting to know people. he asks out people who he finds interesting for some reason or another. he’s not offended when people say no, like. that’s fine.

but yeah. he gets stood up.

which? it’s like. the first time it’s ever happened. and it’s embarrassing. like, if they weren’t interested he would have preferred they just said. but it’s fine? like. he’ll just. eat on his own. that’s fine, he’s not too bothered though he does wish that they’d like. messaged him to let him know they were standing him up so he could have ordered earlier instead of waiting half an hour

but then they Do message him. a catty message along the lines of “now you know how it feels to be let down. maybe you’ll think before you do it to someone else again” and That upsets him because… he’s never stood anyone up???? would never intentionally leave someone waiting????? and he’s Grown Up since his first year of uni where he ghosted people like. he’s really upfront nowadays but he just sort of. starts spiralling a little bit sat at the table gulping down red wine like???? fuck???????

a fun mix of anger that this was clearly something this person PLANNED and also anxiety that maybe he’s been doing this to people this whole time and he just never noticed???? he’s an Awful Person and he just. didn’t know.

(which like. the sheer amount of his ex-dates, ex-fucks, and straight up exes that are still friends with him sort of implies that this is not the case? one of his exes is getting married in six months and he’s one of the groomsmen somehow like.)

and JOHN is sitting at the bar. like he’s waiting for his roommate to finish her shift so they can head home together but her shift’s been extended so he’s just. hanging out. eating complimentary bar nuts and being slipped sneaky beers by the on floor manager. and he’d noticed roger walk in, roger had ta’d one of his classes a year or so back and he knows his rep, and he’d sort of been looking forward to watching The Master At Work

like. he was gonna take notes so that he and ronnie (roommate, obvs) could laugh about it when they got home

(roger totally asked ronnie out once. she didn’t even answer, just walked away. she was annoyed at how charming the sound of him laughing as she did so was. she sort of hates him that “he’s never done anything to me and everyone i know who knows him says he’s a nice bloke BUT I REFUSE TO BELIEVE IT” kind of way)

but uh. yeah. he’s been stood up.

and john’s like….. damn. like, he wouldn’t even stand roger taylor up. he’s always been kind of glad that roger’s never asked him out, and never will bc…. he’s p boring and not like ronnie or brian or anyone else roger’s dated, bc he knows he’d say yes and then ronnie would never let him live it down. not ever.

and like he seems to be rolling with it? he orders himself a bottle of wine and an appetiser which has john like Damn the man be RICH

(the man be decidedly NOT rich and is definitely not going to be able to pay for the bus for the next week now he’s spending his “extra” money on bottles of wine rather than the glass or two he had planned to buy. but whatever, he can walk it. not to mention splurging on the bread platter instead of the bruschetta. he’s been stood up, okay??? if there was ever a time to eat All Of The Carbs and wash it down with two bottles of wine, this would be it)

and then after like one glass? of wine? he just seems to sort of curl in on himself???? and he seems genuinely upset???? like he’s tapping sort of frantically on his phone and he didnt even say thank you to the waiter who brought over his Bread Palooza and john doesnt know him well but. he never seemed the kind of guy who wouldnt thank wait staff okay?????

and before he can even stop himself he’s trailing over there, bar nuts in hand, and awkwardly standing next to the table silently.

and roger is like distractedly not even looking up from stuffing bread into his mouth and texting freddie who isn’t responding which means, he guesses, that he didn’t get stood up on his date tonight. bully for him. so roger’s like yeah thanks mate not ready to order my main yet.

and john’s like…. uh. ok. and just thrusts the bar nuts he’s had in his hand for like. ten minutes under his nose like you look sad, do you want a nut?

and roger looks up and just sort of blinks at him for a long moment before bursting out laughing like yes yes i would like a nut, thanks, john

which has john flustered bc a) he’s a MORON oh my god “do you want a nut”??????? what is he????? he wants to DIE and also b) roger. remembers his name?????????

so john stammers out an apology, explains he’s waiting for ronnie (”ronnie…. oh, uh, you probably don’t remember who she is, she’s-” – “your roommate, right? i forgot she was a waitress here, actually. how is she?” – “….. she’s good. sorry, how do you know she’s my roommate?”)

which leads to roger inviting him to sit down as a family of four tries to move past him, but can’t because he’s making a bottleneck in the aisle

so john. sits. bar nuts still in hand.

(knees weak, hands sweaty, restaurant’s bar nuts. would the real slim shady please stand up?)

and roger’s just hella casual like “yeah just got stood up bc im an awful person, how u been”

and john’s like uh technically i asked for none of that information

and the waiter comes and interrupts as roger sort of just blinks at him bc john is Not The Best at unplanned social interaction. like john approached him??? but ok. and the waiter is like um? hi john? given up on waiting for ronnie to finish?

as roger slam dunks his last glass of wine

and john is sort of like ohw ell. this guy used to be my ta and he looked sad because he’s been stood u- oh my god, im so sorry

and roger is just. you know what? this has been fun. i’ve really enjoyed the multiple levels of abject humiliation that i have endured tonight but i think i’m going to cut it short and just chucks thirty quid on the table like thanks (to the waiter) and good luck with the, uh, engineering? degree, i think? (to john)

who is bewildered bc how the fuck does he remember what degree im doing from the round of fucking ice breakers we did in the first tutorial of a class i took LAST YEAR

(roger’s party trick is remembering like. everything about ppl. you know in that way that really popular people have where somehow they can remember that your second cousin twice removed got married three years back, despite not seeing you since a month before the wedding, and they’re asking how it was using the NAMES of the bride and groom (who. they’ve never met) and you’re like??????? i fuckin forgot the grooms name what the FUCK. i hate these people with a passion. nice people? the worst. john feels much the same as i do)

and before he can even say anything roger has just…. slunk off into the night. leaving him with the waiter who is quite happy about the ten pound tip, and a hand full of bar nuts.

anyway roger goes home to cry at brian who is like. ur not a bad person, people just….. come to conclusions about ur behaviour based on the exaggerated experiences of others. but u also WERE sort of a dick when u were 18, but so is…. like every 18 year old so i honestly just wouldn’t torture myself ab it so neither should u

(a boldfaced LIE. this conversation leads brian to spend the entire night staring at his ceiling and reliving that one time he forgot to say thanks to the bus driver when he was 16. the bus driver hates him, he knows. also he used to have super unacknowledged misogynistic and racist unconscious biases that had been pounded into him by society and he’s still trying to rectify that and????? oh GOD)

and the next day, after he’s been convinced that he’s not the scum of the earth by brian, he rocks up outside of john’s class (which he abuses his access to the university database for the first and last time to find – he also tells john he did this immediately bc he’s like SO I PROBABLY CROSSED A BOUNDARY BUT IT WAS THIS OR STALK RONNIE AT WORK UNTIL SHE GAVE IN AND I THINK THAT WOMAN HATES ME i see her glaring all the time and idk why) and totally asks him out because…. well, he was interesting, wasn’t he?

#Anonymous #this is LONG #joger hc's #headcanon asks

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sugarless-suki-writes · 5 years

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Big God

Fandom: Inuyasha Rating: M Word Count: 3,367 Chapters: 6 of ?

Read on FF||Ao3

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Chapter Six

Kouga had needed a couple days to nurse his wounds. He continued to leave baskets for Kagome, but he didn’t stay. He couldn’t, not with how beat up he was; he didn’t want to cause her any unnecessary worry/stress with her already stress-filled life. One could argue that if he felt that way he shouldn’t be courting her, but that was different.

His wounds weren’t necessarily bad, they were just numerous. In the past, the skirmishes they had on their borders were always random, without any warning and just started with the heat of the moment. This one though, this one was planned, calculated. He wanted time to try and piece together this puzzle he was now faced with.

The youkai they fought off weren’t low in the ranks of whatever family they came from. Of course, they weren’t super high up either, but they were high enough to cause significant damage and smart enough to execute a plan. This was different than what they were used to dealing with.. he would need to talk to the head of the family when he had the chance. Activity has been increasing as of late and Kouga was never good about keeping up with current events. He only stayed up to date if they concerned him, which was honestly a habit he needed to break out of if he was going to take over in the future.

He went back to focusing on the task at hand: cooking. He was going to ask Kagome out tonight and he wanted to make her another home-cooked meal. He had gone back to giving her groceries and other things for her baskets while he recovered. But, he felt the need to step it back up, especially since he planned on taking her out. He hoped that she would get a day off soon.. hopefully tomorrow. However, he would wait as long as he needed to to see her again, as long as he got to do it.

He let out a sigh, physically shaking his head side to side to try and refocus his attention. His eyebrows furrowed together as he went back to mixing the ground beef with the other ingredients.

He wanted to make her a nice, hardy meal. From what he gathered from their conversations on her break, she always ate something light, mostly salads. While salads were good, he knew she needed more substantial things if she was going to keep working like she was. He realized she didn’t have a choice in how much she worked, but she did have a choice in how she ate and treated herself. On that front, there were multiple things he didn’t agree with, and he knew that she knew better, seeing as she was a doctor. But he guessed that’s what he was here for, to help her out in any way he could, especially in this period of their relationship. He needed to prove himself to be a suitable mate.

Everything was soon mixed together and he started to make patties with the meat mixture. He shaped them with his hands, forming them into an almost oval shape. Once he had the patties formed, he placed them in the pan and started to fry them.

He set a timer to go off for when he would need to flip them. Usually he could eyeball it, but he knew deep down in his soul that his mind was going to drift off to another place as he cooked. Gods he was so useless lately... The miko left his mind a muddled mess, but he couldn’t really complain.

It was then that his thoughts drifted back to her, as they tended to do these days. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous about tonight. There was a part of him that feared she would reject him, but he knew deep down that she would accept. He hoped at least. His beast was certainly cocky and confident, and he hoped he would be able to draw from its confidence tonight. He ran a hand through his bangs, stomping his anxiety down and doing his best to focus on the food.

His phone vibrated on the counter.

His head snapped around and he couldn’t stop the grin that graced his features as he picked the device up and unlocked it. Of course, it was from the very miko that had been plaguing his every thought.

[ I’m so tired, oh my god ]

[That bad, huh? ]

[ Like you wouldn’t fucking believe ]

[ Tell me all about it ]

[ It’s kind of a lot, can I call you? ]

[ You can say no ]

His heart was hammering in his chest. She wanted to call him.. They hadn’t breached over to calls and it had been so long since he had last heard her voice. He had to shake his head to clear his mind. He needed to respond.

[ You can always call me at any time ]

There was a small pause before his phone lit up with her call. He answered immediately.

“Well, hello.” he said with a lopsided grin.

“Hey..” she replied, sounding a bit breathless. “Are you sure you’re okay with me ranting, because it really is a lot this time...” He could hear her nervousness over the phone and it made him frown slightly.

“I told you before didn’t I? You can come to me with anything that’s bothering you. I’m here to help in anyway I can, Kagome. I promise.”

There was a small pause before he heard her let out a sigh. “I really appreciate that..” Her voice was so soft and it set his heart racing. Oh gods what he would give to see the look on her face right now, to just have her here with him, in his arms, making her forget all her troubles. He managed to push the raunchy path his thoughts were starting to trail down out of his mind just in time for Kagome to launch into her rant.

It was long, not that he minded, but she went through an array of emotions throughout the entire phone call. It mostly ranged between burning, fiery rage and utter sorrow. It broke his heart to listen to her whenever she would reach a sad point. He could tell by the way her voice wavered and cracked that she was trying to fight back tears. He wanted nothing more than to just show up at the hospital and take her away. He wanted to wipe away her tears, shower her with kisses and make her forget. Hopefully he could remedy her mood tonight.

When she was finally done, she was sniffling and Kouga was certain that she was crying. His beast was in a frenzy, screaming at him to go to her, kill whoever had made her upset. Kouga, however, was more rational than that. He gave her a moment to collect herself before he spoke up.

“I’m sorry it’s been so rough for you.”

“I’m just ready to get off this shift and spend these two days off in peace.” she replied, sounded utterly exhausted. Despite her obvious upset, Kouga couldn’t help but feel excited about the fact she had two days off.

“What time do you get off?”

“I’m supposed to get off at 8, but we’ll see if that actually happens.” He could practically see her rolling her eyes. He couldn’t help but chuckle slightly.

“Is there anything I can get you?”

“If you could get me out of the rest of this shift, that would be phenomenal.”

He laughed a bit harder at that. “As much as I would love to, I don’t think I’m capable of such things.”

“You sure about that, given your.... profession?”

“Do you really want me to do my work at a hospital?” he fired back, a huge, dorky grin on his face.

There was a small pause before he heard her sigh. “Well I mean... there’s some pros and cons about that... so I’m a little conflicted...”

“Oh really now?”

“Yeah, I mean... we have patients here so.. that’s a con.. but a pro is that we’re a hospital. So.. y’know... it’d be easier to do our job in that sense. And there’s a morgue as well.. down in the basement.”

His smile grew, if that was possible. He grabbed a spatula and flipped over the patties. “Resourceful.. I like that.”

There was a huff on the other line before her response. “Look.. I’m just saying.”

“I know, I know.” He set the spatula to the side and the leaned back against the counter, crossing his free arm over his chest. “But in all seriousness, is there anything I can get you? Anything at all?”

“Hmmm....” Other than her small, occasional hums, the line was silent as she thought. Kouga could picture what she looked like. Her eyebrows just ever so slightly furrowed, index finger curled at her chin, her teeth pulling her lip into her mouth. Her full, plump, pink kissable lips... Gods what he would give to have them–

“Chocolate. I don’t care what it is, as long as it’s chocolate. No dark chocolate though.. I want something sweet.”

His cheeks were dark, his skin hot as he tried to forget where his mind had been traveling. “Consider it done.”

“Thank you, Kouga, it really means a lot.”

“Of course, anything for you Kagome.”

He heard her laugh and it warmed his heart. He was glad to have provided her some sort of solace in her shift. “I have to get going, but I’ll text you when I can.”

“Yeah, of course. Have a good rest of the night at work.”

She snorted. “Yeah, hopefully nothing too crazy happens in this last 45 minutes.” she replied.

“Talk to you later.”

“Talk to you later..”

And with that, the call ended. Kouga stood there, staring at his phone for a couple moments, a goofy grin on his face. He chuckled a bit to himself before he slipped his phone into his pocket and did his best to focus on the food he was preparing. Thankfully, it didn’t take him too long to finish the meal up and he quickly had it packed away. He placed it into the basket and covered it up with a cloth, hoping to help contain the heat. Now all he needed to do was get her chocolate and everything would be perfect.

-BG-

Kagome left the hospital with a sigh, rolling her shoulder as she stepped into the alley. She was only leaving 10 minutes after her shift, a new record for her. She pulled out her phone, sending a quick text to Kouga.

[ I’m freeeeeeeeee! ]

It was a little silly, but she felt comfortable with him. The thought made her blush and she tucked the device back into her pocket, however the action was useless as it vibrated almost as soon as she put it away. She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at how quick his response was.

[ Glad to see you survived ]

[ You and me both ]

[ So what do you plan on doing with the rest of your night? ]

[ Probably TV and then passing out, hopefully in bed and not on the couch ]

[ Have you considered moving your TV to your room? Cut out the middleman? ]

[ No I haven’t. If I had my TV in my room then I probably wouldn’t ever sleep, haha ]

[ Besides, how would I enjoy TV with my guests when I have them? ]

[ You can always move it back ]

She snorted a bit at that.

[ Sounds like a lot of work ╮(▰´△`)╭ ]

[ I don’t know if you realize this, but I try to enjoy my time off and do as little work as possible ]

[ Ah, I see. My bad then ]

She laughed a bit more at that. She turned down into the next alley that would spit her out at her complex.

[ What are your plans for the night? ]

[ Not sure yet ]

[ Oh? No trouble that needs getting into? ]

[ Not that I can tell ^.~ ]

[ And just what is that supposed to mean? ]

[ ╮ (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) ╭ you tell me ]

Kagome rolled her eyes.

[ Whatever, lol ]

She was soon in front of the stairs that led to her apartment. Kagome let out a sigh and tucked her phone into her pocket. She always hated climbing them at the end of the day, but there wasn’t really anything she could do about it. It was better to just get it over with... and so she did.

She took the steps as quickly as she could, and once she was at the top she took a quick breather, popping her back and shoulders before she walked down the hall to her apartment. The lighting for the hallway wasn’t the best, had never really been the best, and it certainly didn’t help that some of her neighbors didn’t turn on their little “porch light” at night. She wasn’t sure what else to call the light in front of the door. A door light? She was tired.. she needed sleep.

As she drew closer to her apartment, she could see a silhouette near her apartment. Her eyebrows furrowed together. Who could that be? She was a bit more cautious now, readying whatever reiki she had left in her, just to be safe, but as she came closer, her worried disappeared as her breath caught in her throat.

He was here. He was actually here.

Kouga was leaning against her door frame, arms crossed over his chest. He had on a pair of blue jeans, a white T, and of course, his black leather jacket. The only thing he was missing was a toothpick in his mouth. While a part of her wanted to laugh at that mental image, the majority of her, or as she referred to as her dumb monkey brain, was just screaming, “Kouga! Here! Hot! Titties!” It took everything in her to try and fight the heat that threatened to warm her cheeks, no, her entire body. She failed, of course.

Kouga’s head soon turned to look at her, and when he flashed her that lopsided grin, she was done for. Her knees felt weak and she willed them to hold. How embarrassing would it be if she were to collapse in front of him after not seeing him for close to two weeks? It would be downright pathetic, and she had an image to try and keep.

“Hey Kagome.”

“Hey Kouga.”

He pushed himself off the wall and walked over to her, and that’s when she noticed the basket he had tucked into the crook of his elbow. He reached for the basket, slowly, as he walked towards her. She could feel his eyes roaming over her and it sent chills running through her. She tried to not visibly shudder. He was soon standing right in front of her, the basket held in between them. She took it carefully and forced herself to look away from his baby blue eyes to see what he brought her.

A small gasp escaped her as she looked into the basket. Half of it was filled with all different kinds of chocolate and the other had what she knew was a home cooked meal for her. She looked up at him, stars in her eyes and it just about floored him. “You cooked for me again.” It wasn’t phrased in a questioning tone, more breathless and taken aback, shocked.

“Yeah, of course.”

She looked back down at the basket, then back up to him, basket, Kouga. “Th-thank you. It.. it really means a lot. You didn’t have to go through the trouble–“

He pressed a finger to her lips and Kagome had to remember that she needed to breathe in order to live. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that it’s no trouble. I’m trying to impress you, after all.” he said, shooting her a wink.

His finger lingered on her lips for a couple more seconds before he pulled it away, allowing her to reply. “And why would you need to do that?” she teased.

His grin grew. “You think I don’t need to?” She shrugged in response and Kouga let out a hearty laugh. It warmed her heart and caused a smile to break out on her face as well. When he was done, his eyes were shining and Kagome felt weak all over once more. “That’s quite the compliment, you know?”

He stepped closer to her and Kagome removed the basket from between them, holding it at her side. Her breath caught in her throat and she knew, she knew that Kouga heard her, because his grin grew. He brought a hand up, tucking a couple stray hairs behind her ear and Kagome’s skin lit up at the brush of his fingertips.

“So, since I don’t have to try to impress you.. would you like to go out to dinner tomorrow, at 7?”

“6..” she breathed, surprising the both of them. Her cheeks grew hot, turning bright right red in color as his eyes went wide for a couple seconds. He chuckled a bit and cupped her face with his hand, brushing his thumb along her cheek.

“Well, 6 it is then.” He then slid his hand down her face, taking her chin between his thumb and index finger and tilting her head down ever so slightly. He then pressed a kiss to her forehead, and before Kagome could react, or even fully process what was happening, he was gone.

-BG-

Kagome’s breath hitched and caught, trapping a moan in her throat. She shuddered as she climaxed, her body lifting off the bed slightly as her hands pulled away from her clit and her nipple. She flopped back onto the bed after a couple moments, her breathing labored as she laid there and tried to collect herself.

Here she was, taking care of an urge that kept nagging at her, one that sparked back up at a near instant from just the sight of him. It had been bright, burning, blazing... and insistent. Since the moment she had seen him, she hadn’t wanted to let him go. She wanted to invite him in, bring him to her bedroom, let him have his way with her.

Kagome somehow managed to roll ever just enough to bury her face in the pillow. Gods, she embarrassed herself with her own thoughts at times. She was eager for their date tomorrow, but she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to control herself... She wasn’t going to jump him, but she couldn’t say whether or not she’d be turned to putty by the end of the night. If he just so happened to want to come in at the end of the night, then she wasn’t going to stop him. If he wanted to move things to the bedroom, so be it. If he wanted to rest his head on or between her thighs, then by golly gosh...

Kagome hooked the blankets with her foot and started to pull them up, soon switching them off to her hand. If she kept going down this path, she was going to end up needing to take care of herself all over again. She sighed as she was soon fully tucked under the covers. She shifted so she was fully on her side and a hand reached down to tug up her underwear, which was slightly offset.

As the miko began to drift to sleep, now worn out from her activities, she realized she had a call to Sango in her future. She grumbled, burying her face back into the pillow. She was going to die, and for a multitude of reasons. She would definitely need to rest up for the scolding she was about to receive from her best friend...

#inuyasha #inuyasha fic #koukag #kougome #kougkag #kogkag #chapter fic

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lightshielded · 6 years

Note

Since you’re J4 roleplay blog and the only one active plus you seem to be into J4 a lot. I have a question for your character: doesn’t it make more sense for Jarvan to be polygamous as Demacia is based on medieval Europe and a lot warrior princes (such as Jarvan) had a wife and two mistresses? Also a lot of people see J4 as a Gary Sue and this would give him fault because modern society views as taboo. Maybe like marry Lux or some Demacian noblewoman and have Quinn and Shyavana as side girls?

yeah, i really love his character ( and yeah i’m the only active jarvan it’s kind of sad. i wish i had some more active duplicate blogs to chat with ! ) before i get into this might i say i never knew that people saw jarvan as a gary sue? can i have some follow up on that from anyone who reads this, i am deeply curious as to why and how wide spread the thought is. NOTE: i will be taking this to mean infidelity and not polyamory as you referred to side girls and it being taboo to modern society. neither things i would equate to polyamory.

the issue with this thought is that by assuming demacia to have a 100% correlation with medieval europe ( which it doesn’t ) and that it also suggests women will have an inherently lower role in demacian society. this however is not really ever shown to be true. women are shown in high political roles ( beyond that of queen ), high religious roles as both worship and warrior, to be able to be the heads of their own noble houses to great success and even trained for the role, they number among top generals as seen in jarvan’s lore as well as royal guards, the elite ranger knights and even the dauntless vanguard aka the most respected and revered soldiers in demacia.

though some demacian upper nobility are said to believe women shouldn’t lead the older noble houses in rather hushed whispers ( and then get the shit beaten out of them ), which shows that it was likely an opinion at one point of time but is gradually dying out. such sentiment is more similar to the state of our current world than with medieval europe, where women were generally ALWAYS on unequal terms with men and only had chance to be otherwise as a widow, a queen or a nun. but of course the use of arranged marriage between the political houses remains very true to older times, so there is that.

more closer to truth, because this is also its lore in the world too, demacia takes influence from MANY different cultures and has formulated its own as a result. after all, demacia was founded by refugees of multiple nations who came together in the wake of the rune wars seeking safety AND then those that sure the secure fledgeling nation and travelled to be apart of it. demacia’s army structure is very similar to the roman century structure with generals commanding armies of 100 soldiers. their armour is a mixture of medieval european armour in its full plate and maille but it is highly styled like to be greeco - roman with corinthian helmets and other design elements reminiscent of these groups, such as the prince’s pteruges and crested helm which along with his lance style him to look a bit like a hoplite. but of course it does not have the expansionist ideals and so is not truly greek or roman.

then, demacia’s general architectural appearance aligns more closely with ancient greeco - roman – THEY ALSO HAVE A COLOSSUS, y’know, like the greek colossus, the fabled colossus of rhodes – and the renaissance era. demacia also has many french, english, german and other names as well as aesthetic elements, again this is due to the fact that demacia is a highly mixed culture at its core. not just that, but even the essence of the culture is different to medieval europe and is of a feudal system where the king or queen is elected based on political influence and military merit and not by divine right. so you can see, demacia isn’t a true representation of any one real world country, especially medieval europe ( unless you mean knights and kings automatically equal medieval europe ).

but beyond the culture of demacia being a far cry from traditional medieval europe, there is still jarvan’s own personality which we need to take into account. in his lore, jarvan is referred to as ‘ a paragon of [demacia’s] greatest virtues ’ and to be a rather idealistic character ( granted they are the ideals of one nation and not necessarily ideals for another ). now, demacia values community, caring about others and strength in working together and jarvan values this along with a deep sense of equality to bring this community together. also taking into account the fact that we know jarvan’s parents were married for reasons other than love and so was arranged for political gain.

now jarvan is both the result of and has grown up expecting a political marriage, a subject on which i’ve written extensively on here, and so has some rather long held opinions on the fact. he deeply respects the truth that he is not the only one forced into this position, as his arranged spouse would have just as little say, and he could never disrespect them ( or rather any lover, arranged or not ) in such a way. for him, who is so community minded and deeply caring for his people, this would be such a horrific thought to him. and, from a political standpoint, it could easily damage public opinion of him should it come to public light and might greatly affect his chances of being elected king.

also, by character way, quinn even notes that jarvan acts in ways she didn’t expect. likely that jarvan canonly resents getting special treatment for his position and that he isn’t a stuck up nobel who thinks he can flaunt his power and control. in her old lore ( idk if its still considered canon but it might ) she even goes to him with her concerns in incorrect judgement of the official orders, likely because she feels comfortable enough to do so even when speaking against a higher ranking officer ( especially orders from the king ) would be deeply frowned upon. so, maybe just, he doesn’t act like a medieval warrior prince might be expected to act.

furthermore, do you think he would sincerely have shyvana and quinn as ‘ side girls ’ or that they would let themselves be? cause let alone the great love and respect he has for both of them, they would beat his ass if he even dared to, just saying. not to mention, lux wouldn’t stand for that either, and neither would her brother, whom jarvan is very close with as well. i think it would just alienate like his only friends? AND, a very little known fact is that, in old lore jarvan actually had a girlfriend, he doesn’t like to talk about it but seems to be still quite devoted to her after a long time of her not being around. he’s just very loyal.

but this is not to say he doesn’t have flaws, just that i don’t see jarvan as the kind of character to practise infidelity. before he met shyvana he held similar ideas about magic and mages as the rest of demacia. he is horrifically prejudiced against noxus and those that would dare harm demacia such as the winter’s claw. it doesn’t come up often, as they did not torture him, but their constant raids on demacia borders have him GREATLY dislike them. he actively enjoys fighting those he dislikes. he is also largely ruled by his emotions at times which, while he is known to be rather smart, causes him to think rashly and leads to his greatest defeat, mistake and regret. and, due to a life raised as more political pawn than person, he isn’t the best in personal situations.

so in conclusion, demacia isn’t an accurate representation of medieval europe or any real world nation and should not be treated as such. and neither should the characters in it. demacia does however share design similarities with a range of real world nations. furthermore, jarvan is a deeply flawed character who has made mistakes with terrible consequences and canonly lives with that guilt constantly. but he is also a character who is driven by the love he has for his people and the strong ideals he has for his kingdoms future. as way of his own raising and personality, while i do see it as incredibly likely that he will end up in an arranged marriage, i see it that the action of infidelity is in no way in his nature regardless of if he is married out of his own love or the will of his nation.

#long post /#VERY LONG POST #— out of character `#— answered `#— anonymous `#— about `#okay sorry for the word dump #and the probably 500 grammer mistakes #but this was important !

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love-takes-work · 6 years

Text

Steven Universe Comic Big Donut Special (2016) - Outline & Review

A review and outline of the special issue comic dedicated to events at the Big Donut.

I didn't find out this existed until the day before it came out! How exciting to just suddenly get a dollop of cute comic content like this. I mean, let's be honest: stories about Steven and the Gems horsing around doing non-plot-relevant things and being cute is not exactly what Steven Universe fans tune in for, by and large, but the writers of this comic had the characters down, and every fluffy little story is such a little treat. If you're expecting plot or lore, you're not going to get it in these one-shot comics, and you should understand that only the TV show is going to go there since these are not generally created by the show's writers and storyboarders. So keep that in mind when you read comics in this universe. They're going to be fluff or mild self-contained plots, and you want to tune in to read them because you get to spend a little bit of time with the characters doing their thing.

Every story in this collection is about donuts! Yes, literally every one! So of course Steven spends a lot of time at the Big Donut and the characters Sadie and Lars make a number of appearances. Here are some notes on the stories: Clash of Gluttons:

To celebrate a blowout donut sale at the Big Donut, Steven declares that he is going to break his eating record, which draws Amethyst's attention because she's convinced she can eat way more donuts than he can. A contest is established, and the two eat themselves sick.

Steven is sure he has no more room in his stomach, but there's always room for the Father-and-Son Special when Greg arrives! Notable for fans: 1. It really doesn't make any sense in-universe for Steven to think he could beat Amethyst at eating, so the suggestion that they tied at the end is stretching credibility a bit, even in a silly plot. ;) Steven can eat, but Amethyst . . . I mean, she eats things that aren't edible, regularly, and literally does not have an organic body to worry about. 2. Steven and Amethyst have some supporters behind them as they prepare for the donut eating. Predictably, Connie and Lion are supporting Steven, but Pearl is right behind him sweating like she's distressed, while Garnet is giving Amethyst a massage and for some reason Onion is there behind her. That is peculiar.

3. Steven eats weirdly angrily while Amethyst does so with clear delight on her face. It's funny.

4. Steven...doesn't have a Gemstone in this comic?? What. There are multiple pictures of him after he ate too much with his exaggerated stomach poking out and Sara drew a regular cartoon outie bellybutton on it every time.

Big Donut Contest:

Another contest requires entrants to design donuts! Steven, inspired by the "don't donut" from last year, encourages the Gems to collaborate with him as an entering team to create the Crystal Gem combo. Surely Pearl, Garnet, and Amethyst can create something very special to contribute to the contest, right?

Well . . . hard to do when Pearl is clueless about food, Amethyst doesn't understand what food is palatable for humans since it's all yummy to her, and Garnet doesn't see the point in participating since she already knows how it all ends. But Steven anticipated their donuts not necessarily being appropriate, so he made his own Crystal Gem combo of representative donuts of the four of them. Everyone loves it.

Notable for fans: 1. Lars's slacking is called out by Steven in this episode and it's adorable.

2. Garnet and Pearl are playing video games together in Steven's room in one scene! I've never seen Pearl play video games voluntarily before. 3. An exchange between Steven and Pearl was perfectly Pearl. Steven: "Big news! DONUTS!" Pearl: "Steven, that's not news, we already know about donuts." 4. The suggestions Steven makes for the donuts they'd make are as follows: "The Pearl donut's beautiful, refined flavors! The unbeatable flavor fusion of the Garnet donut! The bold, daring Amethyst donut!" That's so cute and they're clearly all flattered by these descriptions. Of course, Steven completes the quartet with "The sweet and bubbly Steven donut!" Yes, Steven, you're adorable.

5. Steven's cooking apron has Sad Waffle from Crying Breakfast Friends on it. 6. Pearl's idea of a good donut is a hologram donut because in her eyes food you don't have to eat is ideal. Amethyst's donut is a gross pile of junk food. Wow.

7. The final Crystal Gem Combo made by Steven is super cute. Amethyst's is a filled eclair with purple frosting and a squirt of whipped cream; Pearl's is an elegant frosted pale cruller with sprinkles; Steven's appears to be a jelly-filled with pink icing and a big star decoration, and Garnet's is a heart-shaped donut with markings like Garnet's outfit, complete with red and blue star sprinkles. Garnet's reaction to this donut is so precious.

The Donut Thief:

A mysterious thief keeps taking donuts from Sadie and Lars, so Steven accompanies them to the thief's roof hideout to uncover the identity of the thief and stop the thievery. After some antics and mishaps, they find a baby raccoon is responsible. Steven wants to keep it. Notable for fans: 1. Lars grudgingly acknowledges Steven's magical abilities in this story (while saying he doesn't want to be involved if Steven's powers are). It's pretty typical, and as usual, Sadie defends him. The character dynamic is well presented here. (Same goes for when Lars wanted others to be first to climb the ladder to the roof.) 2. What!! Steven does his puppy-dog eyes on Garnet to get her to let him keep the raccoon and SHE STILL SAYS NO! What is the world coming to?

Health Inspection:

Mr. Smiley has decided to make extra cash by doing health inspections, and this throws Sadie into a panic because she's worried the Big Donut won't meet regulations. To make matters worse, the Crystal Gems are literally fighting a monster in and around the store during the inspection. But considering the monster has wrecked all the stores he's had to inspect that day, Mr. Smiley's not going to deduct points for that! Points off for untucked shirts though, Lars. Notable for fans: 1. This one is rare since it's not from Steven's perspective at all! And he's not even there fighting with the Gems when they confront and poof the monster! That's surprising. 2. Yikes, the Big Donut regularly sells expired food that Sadie has to hide for the inspection. Well, I guess that's not surprising, considering in "Lion 3: Straight to Video" Sadie was putting months-old bag lunches in the coolers. How to Donuts:

Sadie comes over to the Temple and teaches the Gems to make donuts! Steven and Sadie enlist the help of Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl to mix dough, knead it, let it rise, roll it out, cut donut shapes, create glaze, fry the donuts, drain them, and add glaze and sprinkles. A real recipe for glaze and donut dough is included!

Notable for fans: 1. Amethyst's role, predictably, is eating everything or whining when she has to wait to eat everything. Pearl and Garnet are helpful, though. Pearl makes the glaze while Garnet does the mixing and frying. Steven does the rolling and shape-cutting. I like this because you really should have an adult do the cooking-related stuff. 2. An ending scene of Amethyst stuffing multiple donuts in her mouth was expected, but I was pleasantly surprised and amused by Pearl adding sprinkles with tweezers and Garnet, for reasons unknown, holding frosted donuts up to two of her eyes and looking through them. What nerds they are.

Food Fight:

Sadie needs to do a business errand and Lars is furious that he is therefore stuck at work and unable to show off his coolest pants to his cool friends. He's so bitter and distracted that he doesn't want to sell donuts to Steven and Amethyst, and is forced into interaction with them when Amethyst just starts taking donuts and eating them.

A food fight ensues when Amethyst antagonizes Lars, and Onion gets involved as a passerby. Soon Jenny is drawn in when she walks by delivering pizzas, and Ronaldo sees what's happening and charges in with a huge bag of fries to participate. Even the other Cool Kids, Mr. Smiley, and Greg get caught in the crossfire! But Lars is still concerned about whether his very cool pants will be appreciated, which is much more important to him than who will clean up the mess. Notable for fans: 1. Jenny, delivering pizzas? Did she get a work ethic for Christmas? 2. Greg reprimanding Amethyst and assuming she started the food fight was pretty funny. I like how often they demonstrate that the characters know each other really well. Also, Amethyst calls Lars "guy." It's pretty common for the Gems to avoid learning or using humans' names, so this is really on-target dialogue. 3. The drawings are really cute--Amethyst's attitude is so well encapsulated by the expressions they've chosen for her. I love her body language, and they did great with everyone's action--you can really feel the movement. 4. Onion's murder face is unforgettable and I'm glad they included it.

Donut Derby:

Steven and Connie enter a toy car race, but Steven's car "Mr. Sprinkles" breaks during the test run. They have to find something to use for wheels very quickly or Steven's out of the race. Notable for fans: 1. Ponytail Amethyst. That is all. (It's weird, though; in the earlier frames it looks like she tied her hair with her own hair, like she did in "Steven vs. Amethyst," but in some of the later ones, it's colored in like it's a black hair tie.)

2. Connie is cute (and, again, on-point with the characterization)--she's very scientific about the aerodynamics of her car.

[SU Book and Comic Reviews]

#steven universe #steven universe comics #myblog

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ontheperiphery · 7 years

Text

a penny for your thoughts, tipsy or not

kim namjoon x reader, college!au introspection?? word count: 2.2k

The party was lit. And you were not.

It’s safe, you think, to admit that events largely aimed at socializing weren’t your thing. Not that you were unwilling to attend, but showing up and enjoying yourself were two different issues entirely.

You probably should’ve taken the hint when attending a boba after-social in which you sat with your peach flavored black iced tea and listened to people at your table animatedly conversing while nodding and humming occasionally to indicate your involvement. It was a small group of people and you made an effort to say something every few minutes, but you were a polite listener and never really interrupted when you could’ve. And so conversation flowed smoothly without you.

You probably should’ve taken the hint when you arrived at a dance kick-off performance and let your friend drag you out of your seats to socialize with people since you were so early that there was plenty of time before the event properly began. You smiled at friendly faces and engaged in the shortest of conversations until you ran out of people you knew and things to talk about. And in your periphery was your friend who hopped here and there talking with event staff and friends and you don’t know. More people than you knew, that’s for sure.

You really should’ve taken the hint when you didn’t know what to do other than find an unoccupied couch when you tagged along to house party full of friends of friends of the only friend you knew in the entire building. You tried to pet the dog that night, and while she was extremely friendly and full of energy, she also wasn’t so attention hungry that she stayed in one place for long and you decided you didn’t want to drink with only one familiar face to reach out to, wherever they were in the goddamn house.

So.

Current you sat in the very corner of the living room, obstructed by the couch and huddled with your phone and newest mobile game obsession to tap away your nonchalant boredom with mild success. And though you wanted nothing more than to retire for the night and leave the groups of people playing board games or drinking games or socializing because everyone knew multiple someones, you could not. Not truly.

It was rarely the case but tonight’s party was actually at your apartment living room, a casual one hosted by your roommate. A kick-back may be more accurate to describe it. The people present weren’t….not-nice, not unfriendly, not bad people. Like. People you could hit up and befriend in your lectures if you so happened to share classes. But even in your own home, too much was unfamiliar and the air buzzed with so much conversation and laughter and noise it didn’t feel like your place to be.

Although you did have the option of retreating to your room, the walls were essentially paper-thin and you’d be taunted by half-clear conversations and loud bursts of laughter and yelling regardless so why not stay and listen in properly. Maybe you’d even have a laugh of your own if conversation was entertaining enough. It wasn’t eavesdropping when everyone was gathered in the same room and laughing over each other like noise complaints weren’t a threat.

You were fine where you were at least. Not being visible from most angles of the room helped.

A faint shadow passed over you in the dim lighting and you looked up from your phone, confused that anyone had come over to your little corner when all the drinks and snacks and games were in the center of the room.

“Oh! I didn’t even see you there, uhh hey,” a boy greets you.

Tilting your head back in an attempt to make eye contact, you look up from your phone to return his greeting, “it’s okay. I’m kind of hiding anyway.” You’d try to hold conversation longer but, boy, was he tall and you weren’t too keen on straining your neck even as a courtesy.

He looks around your small corner for a bit and bites his lip as if contemplating something, so you tentatively give him a small smile and a reassuring glance in case he felt like he’d somehow offended you in the ten seconds he’d been standing there. The thought makes you chuckle inwardly because in this moment, at this party, you didn’t really care all that much about anything enough to get offended. “Are you looking for something?” you finally decide to ask.

“Yeah, actually,” he smiles sheepishly, “are there any spare chargers here?”

“Mhmm.” A pretty reasonable question, you muse, since you happen to sit next to a power strip and open outlets. Your phone is at a decent enough level you could last the rest of the party on power saving mode. Probably. So you unplug it to offer your own charger. “I got you.”

He grins back, “thanks. I'm Namjoon, can I join you here?” He gestures at your little space and you nod to acquiesce, introducing yourself briefly.

“Y/n. Nice to meet you.”

Since you don’t offer much in the way of conversation, Namjoon slides down the wall to sit beside you, occasionally checking his phone. Probably messaging someone or waiting for something, you think, if he isn’t leaving his charging phone to rejoin the party.

He hums a bit before initiating conversation, “so what brings you here?”

You figure that he'll sit by his charging phone for a while so, crosslegged and turning to face him, you shrug, “I live here.”

Rather than hear any possible judgement in Namjoon's response over, you don't know, your reluctance to participate in socializing or hiding in your room like most people, you explain yourself all at once. “I'm in the master bedroom and if I stayed in my room it’s kind of uncomfortable to have people walk in and out to use the bathroom and I don't want to be the ass who closes the door to one of the only two bathrooms here. And hardly anyone even sees me here in the corner so it's whatever. It's my roommate's party and I'll just chill until it's over.”

Namjoon just sort of nods with a thoughtful look on his face although you aren't sure how much of your rambling he really paid attention to, you guess you appreciate that he looks like he's listening. Company and all that jazz.

You think about unlocking your phone to avoid your surroundings again but then Namjoon replies, “sounds unfortunate,” bringing a scoff from you.

“You don't say.”

Namjoon looks at you with an amused expression like he knows there's more to it and you press your mouth in a frown. “And it’s been a rough couple of days.” You bring your knees up and curl your arms around them.

You wonder then, if Namjoon's expression is actually more sympathetic than amused but it's late and you're tired, in no mood to properly decipher social cues. It matters little to you in the moment, even if Namjoon is a soft enough presence to have you talking as if you were old friends.

“At least it's the weekend then,” Namjoon offers, “I'm going to grab a drink. D’you want one?”

Shaking your head no, “thanks but no. Unless there's an unopened Calpico?”

Namjoon catches the hopeful lilt at the end of your question and easily smiles at your request, returning with a peach flavored bottle and a cup of the same, mixed with a bit of soju. This time, slumping down next to you, shoulders almost touching if either of you chose to lean a bit closer.

You uncurl yourself a bit and happily uncap your bottle, shaking your head at Namjoon as he tilts his cup towards you to offer a sip. “It's okay,” you say with thanks, “but I'm not big on drinking my sorrows away.”

“Hm,” Namjoon replies curiously, turning his head towards you “why not?”

Even as you keep your eyes looking straight ahead, you feel Namjoon's intent gaze on you. Smothering the impulse to fidget, you bring your legs back up to hug them. “Well,” you begin, figuring out how to put words to thoughts, “why do you drink?”

Namjoon thinks for a moment. “Hm. Most of the time it's just a social thing. It's enjoyable with the right people and mixed drink are fun.” He holds up his glass once more which you tap with your bottle to toast with a small smile. “I guess I don't quite believe in drinking feelings away either.”

You're nodding along to Namjoon’s words, pausing at his last statement, because for once, you think, for once, maybe someone finally gets it. But you're not yet sure, so you softly add, “yeah. There's value in feeling you know? All the happy and sad,” while fiddling with the bottle cap of your drink.

You want to add on personal thoughts, that you're never upset at the times you are sad or crying, that you don't ever resent the circumstances that cause such emotions in you and that you don't mind the time you need alone or with friends to get over yourself. That yeah, you often get overwhelmed and sometimes you just feel too damn much but sadness isn't necessarily negative. It just is.

Sitting in your little corner thoughtfully, amongst the loud buzz of laughter and conversation of everyone else in your little apartment you've come to ignore, Namjoon murmurs his agreement and nudges his shoulder to yours, “you sound like you have more to say.”

You're overcome with a mix of quiet appreciation, nervousness, and surprise at his offer, at his interest in what you had to say. Wondering if a person could be drunk on exhaustion because you think a tear or two may be threatening to fall from your eyes.

But you collect yourself just enough to express your thoughts to an attentive Namjoon. Not so much about your troubles because you don’t think they’re any more or less special than the similar academic or life stresses everyone else faces, but moreso about your resulting feelings and how you deal with them. How empty you feel after days of mundane lectures and routine and not feeling enough. How, if you feel too much too intensely, you prefer to spend time alone to process your feelings and thoughts. How confused you get when all your close friends are too busy to have heart-to-heart conversations with.

You’re a little lost, and feel a mournful sense of quiet over it.

As you lay your head awkwardly on your arms you sigh, “sorry for my rambling. I stew in my own thoughts too much.” You turn your head slightly to eye Namjoon. “You probably didn’t come here to talk about existentialism and introspection.”

“No but you’re good,” Namjoon chuckles. “It’s actually kind of refreshing to find someone who’d rather talk about their feelings than play drinking games.”

“Pffft.” You give him a light shove at the small teasing.

“Besides, don’t you enjoy life more when you think more deeply about your experiences? It’s like-”

Namjoon’s phone then lights up with messages and he apologizes for breaking off conversation and being called away by his only ride home for the night, but you only wave off his apologies. You’re grateful that he sat by and listened to you for so long to fault him for anything.

Waving goodbye and mustering up the sincerest thanks you can before he leaves, you only wish that he’d stay a little longer if only to hear the rest of his thoughts like he did yours.

A week later you’re sitting at a coffee shop near campus to study between classes and out of the corner of your eye you see someone familiar pass by. Your eyes widen in surprise and before you even register your actions or have the chance to overthink whether you should or not, you’re waving over Namjoon and inviting him to join you.

Luckily, you learn Namjoon just walked out of class and doesn’t seem to find your invitation out of place, even if you’re not sure if it was too much to call yourselves friends. The thoughts make you think back on your first meeting a week prior and wonder what prompted him to talk with quiet little you when there was so much more to do at the party. You then turn quietly flustered, realizing your traitorous mouth asked that aloud.

He mutters something about an analogy, how beautiful stars shine at night when there’s no lights from nearby cities reaching the sky and a little more you just can’t quite catch. But then he’s putting his hands to his face in embarrassment with more jumbled mumbling as you shyly smile back.

“You just looked like you wanted someone to talk to,” Namjoon settles on with dimpled smile, “and I think I kind of did too.”

#bts scenario #bts scenarios #namjoon scenario #namjoon scenarios #lori writes ;v;;

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sakurablossomcreamlatte · 7 years

Text

the first time we met

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my favourite bowl cut muppets and happy anniversary of me being Osomatsu-san otaku...

birthday ficlet based off a comic @suudonym told me about! you can read the Japanese original here, and the version with an English translation here.

Title: The First Time We Met

Words: 3,440

Summary: Multiple births aren’t easy, and the Matsuno sextuplets were no exception.

The sunlight streamed in through the window, falling across the sleeping couple tangled in the thin sheets of the double futon in an even grid of yellowy luminescence.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

A groan, followed by several grunts as Matsuzo fumbled for the alarm clock, but mercifully the beeping stopped. With one further grunt that could only come from a salaryman wearily attempting to gear himself up to face the daily grind, her husband rose from the bed, and Matsuyo rolled over with a sleepy sigh and tugged the thin sheet over herself as the sounds of running water and general fumbling faded into the half-conscious ambience.

Tendrils of dread, fear, slowly began to creep up from the pit of her stomach and circle around her heart, but Matsuyo closed her eyes against them and buried her face in the pillow.

It was the same every morning.

A gentle shake to her shoulder signified that time had passed. The smell of toast lingered in the air, wafting up from downstairs. “Matsuyo, I’m heading out.”

“Mm,” a brush of lips against her cheek, and Matsuyo half-heartedly cracked one eye open to make out the blurred figure of her husband, kneeling next to the futon in his cool biz attire for work. “Have a good day.”

The tendrils had awoken once more and resumed their climb as reality, memories, began to push to the forefront of her mind and consume her every waking moment as they had for the last month. Six little transparent boxes, closed eyes, tiny fingers and toes and limbs and faces barely visible under a mess of tubes and surgical tape and wires.

A pause, as tens, hundreds - maybe even thousands - of unspoken words hung in the air between them, before Matsuzo exhaled, and she felt his hand pass briefly over her hair, currently loose and spread across the pillow. “You too.”

The endless beeping and hissing of the machines keeping their children alive echoed ominously at the back of her mind - and from the vaguely tight, pained look that seemed to have made its home on her husband’s face, he felt it too.

But we’re in this together. Whatever happens, we’ll be a family.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

“Mmh.”

A rustle of fabric and the sound of socked feet plodding across tatami matting, followed by a soft thunk as the edge of the door met the frame.

Matsuyo shifted again, sprawling her limbs across the futon and kicking off the sheets in the early summer heat that was permeating their house - but whether she liked it or not, she was awake now. Whether it was minutes or hours that dragged by as she lay in bed, stubbornly attempting to sleep some more - that, she couldn’t tell, but over that period of time it became abundantly clear that the sleep she longed for was not making its return. With a sigh, Matsuyo hauled herself upright and rubbed at the damp, sweaty hair sticking to the back of her neck as she fumbled absently for her glasses.

When she’d slipped them on and opened her eyes once more, the scene before her was clear. Her own slim dancer’s legs, stretched out on the futon and thankfully no longer swollen and sore from the trials of a high-risk pregnancy. Her forearms resting in her lap, still streaked with mostly-faded bruises from the amount of intravenous lines that had been stuck into them over the course of her hospitalisation. The futon beneath her, strewn with the thin sheets they used in the summer, and the tatami matting around it - almost oppressively bright in the early light of the day. The low dresser and bookcase in the corner of the room…

...and next to it, a neatly folded futon, long enough to accommodate six tiny boys who weren’t able to come home yet.

Swallowing the lump in her throat and rubbing at her eyes beneath her glasses, Matsuyo climbed to her feet and bent down to put the futon away.

Everything tasted like cardboard. The rice sat heavy in her mouth, sticky and sour, and she swallowed the last mouthful with a grimace before pushing the bowl away. It lodged in her throat, almost cement-like in consistency, and she hurriedly gulped her tea to chase it down, barely noticing how the way it burned her tongue.

Matsuyo didn’t understand. Didn’t they say it was like that when someone died? When you were grieving? But she wasn’t grieving. In fact, it was the total opposite. Six baby boys, alive - alive and…

...not well. Tiny, weak, sick, barely able to breathe or eat on their own.

That’s why I have to stay healthy. If they have their mother’s milk, they might improve faster.

The hospital had given her a strange device for that. It wasn’t pleasant at all to use, but it was for her babies. She’d brought them into this world, and she would do whatever necessary to keep them in it.

It was a strange, paradoxical situation. Practically a million to one chance, and they’d been met from skepticism and eyes of concerned doubt on all sides - “Are you sure? You’d be giving the others a stronger chance for survival….”, met with vehement refusals to even consider ending one or two of the precious lives inside her - and against all odds, she’d awoken from the anaesthetic to see Matsuzo looking down at her with shining eyes and a wobbly smile, and surely he wouldn’t be smiling if -

“They’re alive, Matsuyo.” The little crack in his voice had almost split a fissure in her still medication-addled mind, as he squeezed her hand so tightly she thought the bones might break. “All of them. They’re… God, they’re alive.”

But as she’d learned when Matsuzo was finally allowed to get a wheelchair and push her into the hospital’s neonatal intensive care unit, on May 27th - three days after their sextuplets (Akatsuka-sensei, sextuplets) were born - alive didn’t necessarily mean well.

There had been a lot of crying, both before and after - from both of them. Tears of joy, of relief, of fear, of sadness - so many emotions, mixing and swirling together in a cacophony that made her head spin. How was it possible for a single person to feel this many emotions all at once?

Too exhausted in the aftermath of the surgery, Matsuyo had spent two days sleeping off the after effects (interspersed with the odd moment of wakefulness in between) and left the naming of the babies to her husband. She’d awoken to six birth certificates spread out on the tray table in front of her, accompanied by Matsuzo’s expectant smile.

Osomatsu Matsuno, the eldest.

Karamatsu Matsuno, the second-born.

Choromatsu Matsuno, the third-born.

Ichimatsu Matsuno, the fourth-born.

Jyushimatsu Matsuno, the fifth-born.

Todomatsu Matsuno, the youngest. The baby of the babies.

“How did you even come up with these names….?” she wondered aloud, shuffling through the pile, and Matsuzo’s brow creased with the vaguest hint of panic.

“You don’t like them?”

“They’re….” Matsuyo paused, considering. Her babies were already bound to be a one-in-a-million phenomenon in themselves - sextuplets, and identical to boot. “...very…. unique names.” She cast a smile up at her husband that was only slightly unsure. “Just like them.”

Not that you could tell who was who when they were all laid out in their little incubators.

The sound of the pump breaking suction jolted Matsuyo from her reverie, and she glanced down to see a fairly insignificant amount of milk swirling at the base of the glass. Still, despite her sore and swollen chest, she took every chance to express milk from the damn thing whenever she could, and the sterilised bottles in the fridge were slowly filling up, little by little.

Just like how her babies were slowly, slowly becoming stronger, breathing on their own more and more, taking in a little more milk each day.

Re-affixing her bra and tugging her light cotton blouse back down, Matsuyo rose from the tatami and tucked her blouse back into her skirt before taking a quick detour into the bathroom to try and make herself look a little more presentable. Her dark hair was still limp, flat against her scalp in the tight bun she’d pulled it into, and behind her round glasses dark shadows crept out from under her eyes. Twenty-six and I’m already like this.

Then again, not every twenty-six year old woman was less than two weeks out of hospital after giving birth to six babies in one go. The long scar that ran nearly the whole length of her lower abdomen would serve as the reminder of that for probably the rest of her days.

A half-hearted sweep of powder under her eyes and rouge across her cheeks, taking the remaining bottles of milk from the fridge and slipping them into her bag, and Matsuyo was ready to leave.

Physically, anyway.

---

The neonatal intensive care unit was just as bright and white as the rest of the hospital, except one wall had a large glass window through which mothers could peer and coo at their newborns, swaddled in soft blankets and little hats, tiny fingers flexing and ready to grasp the nearest hand that was proffered. Further ahead, one elegantly-dressed woman proudly showed her baby off to her friend - or sister, or cousin, who knew. A young couple - younger than herself and Matsuzo - bowed deeply in gratitude to a doctor and nurse, baby sleeping soundly in a carrier between them.

Idle curiosity gently, lazily propelled Matsuyo’s gaze towards the window. Right before her, one baby - much bigger and healthier-looking than her boys - yawned, tiny mouth closing slowly as she settled back to sleep within the confines of her pink and white swaddling blanket.

Suzuki baby. Born June 29th. 3870 grams.

A hard, forceful pang bounced against the inside of Matsuyo’s chest, practically lancing through her heart, and she turned away to head for the door of the critical care room.

“Ah, excuse me.” One of the two nurses on duty, a petite woman with soft, welcoming features, perked her head up with an expectant smile. “My name is Matsuno.” The nurse’s eyes widened in recognition, and the other nurse lifted her head as Matsuyo slid her bag off her shoulder and held it up. “I’ve brought my milk.”

“Ah, of course, Matsuno-san!” The nurse cheerfully accepted the bottles, ushering her towards the six incubators in the one corner of the room. “Thank you very much.” As Matsuyo slowly sat down on the proffered stool, the nurse continued. “They’re all doing well, still. Osomatsu-kun and Karamatsu-kun have been drinking the most milk, you know.”

“What about Ichimatsu?”

Despite what were probably her best efforts, the nurse’s cheerful bedside manner faltered just a touch. “Well… Jyushimatsu-kun and Todomatsu-kun have caught up on him, but he’s still trying.” There was a blatant note of sympathy in her voice. “He might have fallen behind a little, but he’s still improving, too. Anyway.” She gestured towards the incubators. “Stay as long as you like.”

Matsuyo was tired, so tired, and in the times where she sat at the breakfast table like a zombie, mechanically taking in food in order to pump out some form of nutrients for her babies, she often thought the emotional well had run dry - drained her energy and left her on the ground, an exhausted husk of the woman who loved her husband and wanted to take the next step of married life with him - and yet every time, something new would swell inside her chest, pushing up and against her weak defences in front of these people. I didn’t know a mother’s love would hurt this much.

She blinked forcefully, trying to push the inevitable tears away, but she still couldn’t stop the obtrusive lump that rose in her throat, or the way her voice cracked with her reply.

“Th-thank you.”

That was how most days at the hospital went. The routine was the same, and the days bled into each other, only punctuated by the weekend days where Matsuzo was free from work and would accompany her. It was a small relief, to be able to sit beside him and intertwine her fingers with his as they watched their babies grow - ever so slowly, little by little. The doctors and nurses gave them updates, unable to hide their own smiles as they told them that Choromatsu had gained another few grams or Jyushimatsu had kicked his legs or - in probably the most relieving development for them since this whole thing had begun - Ichimatsu was able to fully breathe on his own now.

Every day felt like they were dragging themselves through mud, but - ever so gradually, it was thinning. The dark cloud that hung over them every day they sat alone in their house built for a family, knowing that they had six baby boys struggling their way towards being able to come and live in their own home - slowly, slowly began to lift as they began to realise that maybe, just maybe, their sons might be alright.

And so, hope swelled. Matsuyo sat with her boys, talked to them. She talked of home, of her hopes for the future, of plans that maybe wouldn’t be necessary now but it was alright because they were miracles - her miracles, their miracles, and she loved them, did they know how much she and their daddy loved them?

Occasionally, she couldn’t stop the tears that would rise and spill over her lashes when she saw the other mothers with their healthy babies, eagerly suckling milk from bottles, and she’d apologise and pray for her sons’ strength….

...and yet somehow, unspoken, she knew (or maybe, it was just a really strong force of hope) that they would forgive her.

“I hope you’ll forgive me, anyway,” she murmured, forehead resting against the glass of Karamatsu’s incubator. Her warm breath fogged the surface, and she wiped the condensation with a finger to bring her baby back into focus. Even despite the tubes taped to his face, half obscuring it from her vision, his head was tilted ever so slightly towards her - and she knew he was listening, in his own way. “When you’re healthy. Don’t underestimate what I’ll do for you - for all of you. Maybe we haven’t met properly yet, but I know I love you.” A sigh. “So, so much.”

It was approximately five weeks after the sextuplets were born when Matsuyo entered the ward as usual, feeling the familiar mix of complete unreadiness and dread against the waiting onslaught of emotions, that the nurse - Nakajima-san, Matsuyo had learned at some point, but time was all relative - eagerly poked her head out of the critical care room door. “Matsuno-san!”

Matsuyo’s steps halted, anticipation uncurling and rising in her chest. Did something - wait, no, the nurse wouldn’t be smiling if it was bad…

Nakajima-san beckoned her into a side room attached to the critical care room, eyes shining as she gestured to a slightly worn sofa by the wall. “Just - wait here for a second, please.”

Could it be…?

And when the nurse re-emerged, it was with a tiny blue-clothed bundle in her arms, a little head dusted with soft wisps of dark hair just visible above the crook of her elbow, and Matsuyo’s breath caught in her throat. Time seemed to slow down as Nakajima-san took careful steps across the room, coming to lean down in front of her, and she couldn’t stop her mouth falling open at the sight of the little face nestled against the blue blanket.

He was perfect - there was no other word for it, and yet even that couldn’t even begin to encapsulate all the emotions contained within the sparks Matsuyo could feel crackling through her veins at the sight of her baby - one of them, there’s more - completely free of life-sustaining equipment. She could see the tiny creases of his closed eyes, his little eyelashes, the natural rouge of his puffy cheeks.

He’s so beautiful…

“Osomatsu-kun’s weight is up to 2400 grams,” the nurse explained, barely able to conceal her joy at being able to convey this news. “It’s alright for you to hold him now. The rest of them are getting to that point, too. You’ll probably be able to hold them all within the week - even Ichimatsu-kun.”

My babies...

Arms and hands shaking, Matsuyo slowly reached out, and Nakajima-san gently eased the baby - her baby - into them. Slowly, slowly, she pulled him close to her chest, heart thudding so hard and fast in her ears, throat - everywhere…. oh God, this is it.

This is what it’s like to be a mother.

Finally….

What can I even say to him?

“H-hi, Osomatsu,” was probably an alright place to start.

Her breaths were hitching, just short of gasps, and her shoulders were trembling and her voice was shaking and she was just - overwhelmed.

She felt like her heart was going to explode. And I still have five more…

Nakajima-san remained at a respectful distance, quiet and unobtrusive as the cliff slowly eroded, splashing into the sea, and Matsuyo’s shining eyes gave way to hot tears that slid down her cheeks and dripped from her jaw and chin, soaking into the soft fabric of the blanket as her shoulders shook with sobs.

“Oss-so-m-matsu… M-mommy’s here…”

She ducked her head, softly, gently touching her forehead to the soft wisps of dark hair, feathery and light. “M-mommy l-l-loves you, Osom-m-matsu…”

Slowly she adjusted a shaking hand, lifting a finger to brush against his cheek. He was even softer than she’d imagined, softer than velvet or down or anything she could have ever dreamed. And one tiny hand lifted, reaching up to grasp her finger in turn.

He’s… saying hello.

He’s here. His brothers are here.

They’re all okay.

And the wave - barely kept at bay by the dam that Matsuyo forced up, refused to consider - released, crashing down and sweeping her away from herself as she clutched her baby to her chest and sobbed.

She had no idea how long she was holding Osomatsu for - minutes, hours? - before the waves subsided, slowly and gradually ebbing away and bringing her back to herself. When she dared to lift her head, Nakajima-san was still there, patient and sympathetic with that smile of hers.

“C-could you…. call my husband, maybe?” She could feel the smile tug at her lips, shaky and uneven, but very much real - her first proper smile in weeks. “I want him to be here, but…” one more look at her son, who yawned and shifted in her arms. “I don’t want to let him go.”

“HA! KARAMATSU DRINKS!” Osomatsu’s gleeful yell bounced off the walls and reverberated throughout the whole house as the living room erupted in cheers below them.

“Twenty years….” Matsuzo sighed, setting his beer on the folding table in their bedroom and leaning back heavily on his hands. “Why does it feel like it’s been longer?”

“Oh, shush.” Matsuyo took a sip of her own beer, readjusting her legs beneath herself. “You’re not the one who’s been cleaning up after them the whole time.”

Matsuzo smiled wryly. “That’s true.” He reached for his beer, lifting the can, and Matsuyo tapped her own against it. “I’ll drink to that.”

A long, heavy swig from both of them, followed by matching ‘ah’s as they set their cans back on the table.

“Not to get sentimental, but….” Matsuyo exhaled, finger tracing a line around the rim of her beer can. “Sometimes I can’t believe they got this far.”

“We got this far,” Matsuzo corrected. “You and I, too.”

“Mm.” Matsuyo nodded, the movement slowed by both exhaustion and alcohol. “But, you know. With everything that’s happened.” A heavy swallow as the lump threatened to push its way into her throat again. “And the whole thing last year, with…”

“Oi.” Matsuzo’s hand landed over hers, heavy and warm, and she raised tired eyes to see conviction in every line of his face. “He’s fine. They all are. And it’s thanks to you, you know.”

“And you,” she couldn’t help batting back. “What would we be doing if you weren’t slogging away at the office every day?”

“Can’t deny that,” Matsuzo agreed. “But I suppose we’re a good team, aren’t we?”

“Mm.” Matsuyo smiled sleepily, fondly, at the man who had endured this whole crazy ride along side her - and would, always.

Matsuzo smiled back, worn and older but familiar and sweet and just the way he’d always been, from when she’d met him all those years ago to eternity.

“To our family.”

Aluminium met aluminium in an understated toast with years of meaning behind it.

“Mm. To our family.”

#happy birthday you losers who I adore #own writing #osomatsu san #cw: premature birth #I guess?

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cchie · 7 years

Text

Poppy Heathcliff’s Big Ol’ Honkin’ Questionnaire

A. Psychology

What of the Meyers-Briggs personality types they most fit into? INFP, ENFT, et cetera… Poppy is most definitely an INFP “The Mediator” - gentle, shy, passionate, pure, emotional.

What alignment are they? Chaotic neutral, lawful evil, et cetera… Neutral good. She only wants to do what is best.

Do they have any emotional or psychological conditions? Are they aware of it? Do they try to treat it? When she was younger, she used to have agoraphobia and anxiety. She still experiences them to this day but to a severely lesser degree. Taking medication for it was something she had considered but once she found her passion for horticulture, she’s found ways to deal with it.

Are they a pessimist or an optimist? Optimist! She always wants to find the brighter and sunnier things in life. The darker parts scare her and make her sad, but she knows it’s important to accept those as well.

Are they good at handling change in their life? Sort of. Change can be pretty hard for Poppy since she just likes being comfortable. However, she can be resilient. So while it might be hard for her mentally and emotionally, she’ll get used to it after the initial discomfort.

Does your OC tend to assume their interpretation of events and reality is correct, or do they question it? I.e., “I’m sure that’s what you said” versus “It’s possible I misheard you.” Because of her anxiety and people-pleaser ways, she generally questions it. If somebody confronts her and says she said something different, she’ll shrink in size and say something along the lines of “O-oh, I’m so sorry. I thought I-I said the r-right thing!”

Is your OC confident in their reactions to life in general, or do they get embarrassed or easily shamed for it? I.e., if something startles them, do they insist it WAS scary? When they cry, do they feel like they overreacted? Oh, god, Poppy is very easily embarrassed and shamed. She hates it. If someone were to startle her, she’d probably squeal and cry, and then feel completely humiliated. Whenever she cries, which is indeed a lot, she does feel like she’s overreacting but only because kids picked on her when she was younger. Her parents have taught her that it’s okay to cry.

Is your OC a martyr? She absolutely would be.

Does your OC make a lot of excuses? For themselves? Others? Nope! Poppy prefers being honest with people. She doesn’t like lying because she knows it’s wrong and disrespectful. She used to make excuses for herself when she was younger but now she’s grown and learning to love herself. If she’s late to something, which she rarely ever is, she’ll be honest and let them know ASAP.

Does your OC compromise easily? Too easily? Yes. Poppy is scared of not pleasing everybody and wants everyone to be happy, even if that means compromising something. Generally, if it’s something she feels incredibly strongly about, she won’t back down. After fighting for it, she would be highly reluctant to compromise at all.

Does your OC put others’ needs before their own? Yes, that’s one of the downsides of Poppy. She’ll put others’ needs before hers at all times and it destroys her a bit inside. It’s tiring and exhausting but she’d rather everyone around her be happy than solely herself be happy.

Does your OC have any addictions? If so and problematic, have they admitted it to themselves? While Poppy loves gardening, I wouldn’t call it an addiction.

Does your OC have any phobias? If so, where did they come from? Many things scare Poppy and freak her out but I wouldn’t think to go as far as diagnosing her with multiple phobias. She had agoraphobia and has a mild case nowadays but she’s getting better with it. Really, her anxiety makes her afraid to fail, displease people, and lose loved ones.

Is your character empathetic? Poppy is actually my most empathetic OC. She feels so deeply and strongly and doesn’t necessarily know how to handle any of it, though she’s trying really hard. This is why she tries so hard to make everyone around her happy, because she can feel what they are feeling.

Is your character observant? Yes! In a quiet way. She doesn’t actively seek out to observe everything. Rather, she does it in a way that she’s trying to learn and the anxiety also makes her aware of her surroundings.

Does your OC have to go through their own trials to learn a lesson, or do they listen and learn from observation and lecture? I.e., does your OC listen when someone tries to tell them the importance of budgeting, or do they have to go experience what happens if you don’t budget first? Listening to others and learning from that is primarily how Poppy functions. She values the words of others and would rather not go through trials herself in fear of failing or doing something wrong.

What’s one of your OC’s proudest moments of themselves? After squeezing through the hectic halls of Hope’s Horizon, the small pigtailed blonde stepped out of her school’s back doors and into the sun soaked courtyard. The sun beat down on her freckled face and she had to squint her leaf green eyes to see for a few seconds. She took a deep, relaxing breath, and decided to head for the school’s garden. This was shared between her (the Ultimate Horticulturist), the Ultimate Florist, the Ultimate Pedologist, and the Ultimate Entomologist. While she didn’t like crowds, she had become friendly with these fellow students since they all shared similar interests and had to share the same garden area. Although, Poppy was allowed her own Greenhouse in which she would also graciously share it with the first three. She was a bit drained socially after having to bump into classmates in the hallways and apologize profusely. It was always a challenge for her, especially because she was so small in stature. As she hummed to herself and walked towards the Garden, she heard two angry voices and one...anxious one. Her heart stopped in panic as she heard and she quietly snuck behind some nearby trees. She peered from behind the tree trunk and saw two rather tall boys, one holding what appeared to be a violin. In front of them was a rather upset-looking, but gorgeous, brunette. She was wringing her wrists and stammering. “Ha! Ultimate Violinist, what a lame Talent! What are you without your violin, huh? Just a stuck up rich girl, huh?” the first boy snickered, holding the violin up high. “Ah, please, give th-that back,” the brunette’s voice shook. The second boy mimicked her stutter and laughed. “Hey Scott, what if we smashed it?” The first boy gave a wicked grin. “Yeah, Kaden, I think that sounds like fun!” Before Poppy was even aware of what she was doing, she sprinted towards them and planted herself in front of the brunette. She could feel the fear and anxiety radiating off of the Ultimate Violinist. “S-stop it! G-give it back to h-her!” her voice squeaked. The two boys looked at her and laughed. “And who the hell are you?” “P-p-p-” she cleared her throat and tried again. “Poppy Heathcliff!” she said confidently. “I-I’m the Ultimate Horticulturist. And you n-need to, um, stop being so c-cruel!” The two bullies just laughed. “Huh. And whatcha gonna do, shrimp? Kick me in the knees?” the first boy sneered. “A-actually, I h-happen to h-have some poison ivy leaves on m-my person at the moment, and it would be a sh-shame if they happened to touch you two,” she said, in a panicked but fierce tone. “Y-you know what poison ivy, um, d-does, right? It gives you a rash and a fever and-” she reached into her pocket and grabbed a ziploc bag with leaves inside of it. The two boys narrowed their eyes in suspicion and as she pulled out the bag, they straightened up and a very brief flash of fear appeared in their eyes. “A-and I know that V-Violet Adams would be sad to hear about t-two bullies, and Redd Blaze certainly doesn’t l-like bullies, and-” she stammered hastily. The two boys looked at each other and scowled. “Fine, this isn’t fun anymore anyways. Let’s go, dude!” They started walking away and before Poppy could shout that they still had the violin, the first boy tossed the violin behind him without even looking. The brunette tried to grab it but with not much dexterity and much more clumsiness, it bounced out of her hands and headed towards the pavement. Seeing this, Poppy instinctively dove to catch it and did so successfully, while also scraping her knees in the process. “Oomph, ow!” she winced, softly whispering. The tall brunette kneeled down and avoided eye contact with her scraped knee. “Oh, ah, my goodness, I am so sorry!” Poppy smiled and looked into the eyes of the girl for the first time. They were a beautiful light brown, so light they were almost golden, and it was like looking into two small suns. Her heart skipped a beat. This woman was gorgeous in the classic and elegant sense. “Ummm, uh, I-I’m Poppy. It’s n-nice to meet you!” she exclaimed, giving a big smile. “I’m Aria. Aria Arpeggio. Lovely to meet you,” she said, giving a small smile. Poppy and Aria shook hands and she gently handed her the violin back. “Here, this m-must be very, um, important to you. It’s a lovely violin. It’s made out of the best wood for s-string instruments, too. You r-really know your stuff,” the small blonde said happily, all the while taking a small first aid kit out of her backpack and caring to her wound. “Haha, well, I would surely hope so. Thank you, ah, for saving me from those two...those awful boys,” she shut her eyes and shook her head, then looked in the direction of the bag Poppy had. “Erm, are those actually poison ivy leaves?” Poppy giggled, it was like a wind chime. “No, not at all. Those are just some bay leaves I’ve gathered for a friend. Not dangerous at all. I d-don’t even know if I w-would have, um, had the courage to h-hurt them with it, anyways.” She looked down and gave a small sad smile. “Well, I think that’s rather, ah, noble of you, Poppy Heathcliff. You did more than I could, certainly.” Poppy’s heart swelled and small tears welled her eyes. “Let’s be friends, okay?” Aria blinked with surprised and stammered. “A-ah, sure, P-Poppy. That sounds nice.” Poppy smiled. I can’t believe I stood up for somebody, she thought, and I can’t believe I just made a friend.

Do they get jealous easily? Do they feel bad if they do? I mean, she gets envious but more in a unselfish way. She’s envious of how others can be the life of the party and be so outgoing but it’s more of an admiration type of jealousy rather than an ugly jealousy.

What instantly irritates them or puts them in a bad mood? Bullies, her anxiety kicking in.

Are they harsh on themselves? Yes. She wants to be good at what she does and she wants to make people happy. She pushes herself a lot and doesn’t take care of herself as much as she should when it comes to pleasing others and making other people happy.

Do they make excuses often? See previous question about excuses.

Is your OC intended to be found generally attractive? Unattractive? Average? Is there a reason why? Poppy can be very pretty when she decides to dress up. She’s got dandelion yellow hair she usually puts into a ponytail or pigtails. Her eyes are a beautiful leaf green, and she has freckles. Her right cheek has a scar from a rose bush years ago and her hands are surprisingly rough and scarred from gardening. While she uses lotion, it doesn’t always work. “Cute” and “adorable” are better words to describe Poppy.

Does your OC place much importance on their appearance? Do they feel confident in it? Poppy is not a very confident person but she tries. She likes wearing cute, comfortable, and practical things. She’s concerned with appearance in terms of just making sure she doesn’t look ridiculous. Her taste is more floral prints, frills, lace, and simple.

What are some of your OC’s biggest personal obstacles? This could be emotional, physical, social… Are they aware of it? Are they trying to overcome it? Some of her biggest obstacles are overcoming her anxietys, her fears, her struggle with her gender identity versus her biological sex (intersex), and her selflessness. She’s aware of all of this and trying her hardest to work on it.

B. Social

Do they believe you have to give respect to get it, or get respect to give it? She’s somewhere in between the two. Basically, she believes in showing respect regardless of being shown it first. However, if there is a continual disrespect, she no longer believes respect should be shown to that individual.

Do they get frustrated when lines at places like pharmacies, check-outs, delis, banks, et cetera, are moving slowly? Not at all. She’s rather slow moving herself and she daydreams a lot. So while she may be waiting a while, she’s very patient and understanding.

Under what situations would they get angry at servers, staff, customer service, et cetera? Virtually none. As I stated above, she’s incredibly patient and understanding and would not get upset. The only thing I can imagine her getting upset over is blatant discrimination.

Do they tip well? How easily can they be moved to not leave a tip? Over 25% is how Poppy tips, even if the service isn’t great. She is empathetic to people working in the food service and knows they rely on tips to survive.

Do they hold doors open for people? Yes, if she notices people are walking in the same direction. She always wants to be polite and show manners.

Would your OC let someone ahead of them in line if your OC had a big cart and the person behind them had very few items? Yes! She would always offer them to go in front of her.

How do they respond to babies crying in public? Being empathetic, she would wince a little at first and worry about the child and eventually walk over and ask to hold the baby. She’s really great with children and can almost always calm them down and soothe them.

Is your OC considered funny? Do they believe they’re funny? Not funny in a conventional way. She’s funny in the way she’s innocent and cries a lot and is just super adorable. She likes to believe she can be funny sometimes but overall she doesn’t think she is. Humor is not her strong suit.

What kind of humor does your OC like the most? Slapstick, ironic, funny sounds, scare pranks, xD sO rAnDoM… Plant humor. Any plant puns or anything similar makes her smile and laugh and it makes her days brighter.

Does your OC find any “bad” or “mean” humor funny? Do they wish they didn’t? She actually abhorrently hates that kind of humor. Having her empathy she feels what the victim feels and also suffers severe secondhand shame and embarrassment. Why is hurting or scaring people funny?

Your OC is running late to meeting someone: Do they let the other person know? Do they lie about why they’re late? When she rarely ever runs late, she’ll let the person know as soon as possible and is always honest.

Your OC orders something to eat and gets their order done in a pretty wrong way, something they can’t just pick off or whatnot to correct, or something major is missing. What do they do? Honestly, she would struggle with letting them know but would do so after 15 minutes of internal struggle. Then, she would let them know in the most polite way possible and apologize profusely and reassure that it’s not a big deal.

Do they have a large or small group of friends? Small, with the potential to become large. She’s just usually never the instigator with friendships due to her wilting under social anxiety.

Do they have people they are genuinely honest with about themselves? Herself, her parents, Aria, Sam, and Violet. And occasionally Piper. Hawkbit and possibly Effy once they ever meet.

Does your OC enjoy social events, such as parties, clubs, et cetera..? No. She likes the idea of them but she can’t deal with the crowds, the loud music, etc. If she does end up going, she either stays in the corner or runs outside, or stays incredibly close to whoever she goes with.

Does your OC like to be the center of attention or more in the mix? More in the mix, for sure. Being the center of attention is uncomfortable for her. While she likes attention and craves it because she’s deathly afraid of ending up alone, the limelight freaks her out.

C. Morality

Does your OC have a moral code? If not, how do they base their actions? If so, where does it come from, and how seriously do they take it? Poppy just wants to do what is best for everyone, and she wants to do that if it’s moral. If it isn’t mean, dishonest, hurtful, offensive, etc. she’s okay with it. If it violates anything of the sort she wants nothing to do with it. Even in the end, if she’s put in a situation like she was in Tabletonpa, she wouldn’t kill. She would always choose Mercy.

Would your OC feel bad if they acted against their morals? If not, would they find a way to excuse themselves for it? Yes, and no. Poppy is not the type to act against her morals unless it’s critical to do so (like lying about the poison ivy leaves). She would feel immense shame for it but believe it was the only option that left both parties unharmed.

Is it important for them to be with people (socially, intimately, whatever) whose major ideological tenets align with their own? Yes. She has tried to be friends with people who have different ideas than herself and it was very hard for her. Like-minded people make it easier and more comfortable for her. If they have drastically different personalities, but similar ideological tenets, the friendship can still exist.

Do they consider themselves superior or more important than anyone else? Lesser? If anything, Poppy believes herself to be inferior to everyone else. She has self esteem issues but tries not to dwell on it too much.

Do your OC’s morals and rules of common decency go out the window when it comes to those they don’t like, or when it’s inconvenient? Aka, are their morals situational? Nope! Even when she was in the killing game she didn’t act against those morals. Even if it was inconvenient. The only time she’s okay with lying is if it is to save somebody.

What do they do when they see someone asking for money or food? If they ignore them, why? If they help, how so? Poppy can never ignore the hungry or homeless. She actively participates in soup kitchens and even brings bags of vegetables and fruits to the homeless. She visits them and always brings those bags and some money for them.

Do they believe people change over time? If so, is it a natural process or does it take effort? She does believe in change, very firmly so. It can be either natural or very hard, and she holds these beliefs very close to her heart.

Is your OC more practical or ideal morally? I.e., do they hold people to high expectations of behavior even if it’s not realistic for the situation, or do they have a more realistic approach and adapt their morality to be more practical? Definitely holding everyone else to the same high expectations. In the events of the killing game, she was always dismayed and disappointed in those who murdered fellow classmates and friends.

D. Religion and Life and Death

How religious is your OC? What do they practice, if anything? If they don’t associate with any religion, what do they think of religion in general? Poppy is actually polytheistic! She believes in multiple gods and she’ll pray but she doesn’t believe it necessary to do everyday or go to church or anything like that. She believes that religion can be important to science and vice versa and respects beliefs.

Do they believe in an afterlife? Yes. She believes in an afterlife because it just sounds too lovely to be fake.

How comfortable are they with the idea of death? Poppy is aware of death, obviously, and accepts that it is a part of nature. Unnatural causes unnerve her and upset her. Death upsets her even though she knows it is a part of life and is frustrated that she can accept that and yet still feel so miserable when somebody or something dies.

Would they like to be immortal? Why, why not? If they are immortal, would they rather not be? No, she would hate it. She would have to watch all of her loved ones grow old and die without her.

Do they believe in ghosts? If not, why? If so, do they think they’re magical/tie into their religion, or are they scientifically plausible? Poppy is very uncertain about her belief in ghosts. She believes that it’s definitely possible and is scared of them, while also sad for them.

E. Education and Intelligence

Would you say that your OC is intelligent? In what ways? Would your OC agree? Poppy is smart and above average, but not by a lot. She likes to be a sponge with knowledge but has trouble retaining all of it.

Which of the nine types of intelligence is your OC strongest in? Weakest? (Linguistic, existential, naturalist, et cetera) Unsurprisingly, Poppy is strongest in naturalist and intpersonal. Her weakest is probably intrapersonal or logical-mathematical.

How many languages do they speak? Two! English and Spanish.

Did they enjoy school if they went to it? She did! She enjoyed learning the subjects and field trips but didn’t necessarily love the social aspects. They made her anxious.

What’s their highest education level? Do they want to continue their education? As of Tabletonpa, high school. As of currently, she’s double majored in Horticulture and Therapy..

Do they enjoy learning? Do they actively seek out sources of self-education? Poppy loves learning! She loves learning knew things and actively seeks out more sources.

Are they a good note-taker? Are they a good test-taker? Do exams make them nervous? Poppy is a great note taker, but taking tests make her very nervous. For a while, her teachers were aware of her severe anxiety and had her take the tests after school instead of in class to ease the anxiety and show her true academic potential.

What’s one of your OC’s biggest regrets? In tabletonpa, her biggest regret was not telling Sam or Aria that she was intersex. Currently, her biggest regret is letting people walk all over her when she was younger.

F. Domestic Habits, Work, and Hobbies

What sort of home do they live in now, if at all? How did they end up there? Poppy lives in a small house with her parents in the country area. It’s a small white house, complete with a picket fence and a beautiful garden (a past birthday present for Poppy).

What’s their ideal home look like? Where is it? Ideally, she’d like a slightly bigger house than the one she has with her parents. It would have plants and flowers all over, complete with the love(s) of her life.

Could they ever live in a “tiny home”? Yes! She doesn’t mind tiny homes at all and finds them charming.

How clean are they overall with home upkeep? Pretty clean. Even though she gets dirty outside from gardening, she makes sure the inside of the house is clean. Even what she considers messy is still pretty clean for the average teen.

How handy are they? Can they fix appliances, cars, cabinets, et cetera? Poppy isn’t super handy with appliances but is super handy with medical remedies and first aid. Usually she’ll call Piper to come and help her, or have Piper FaceTime her and walk her through the process.

How much do they work? What do they do? Do they enjoy it? She works as a local horticulturist and sometimes lends fruits and vegetables to local farmers. Poppy loves working with plants. They are the light of her life.

What’s their “dream career” or job situation? She’s already pretty much got it. Just gardening and working with plants. She’s interested in plant therapy and wants to get into that.

How often are they home? Pretty often, though she enjoys traveling to see the sights and exotic plants.

Are they homebodies and enjoy being home? Yes! She loves her garden and her parents and being comfortable.

Do they engage in any of the arts? How good do you intend them to be? Would they agree they are? Poppy loves drawing and the arts. She’s not very good at it though as we’ve discovered through her art collaboration with Piper. Although, she’d like to believe she’s really good at it.

What are some of their favorite things to do for recreation? How did they get into it? What part of it do they like the most? She loves to garden, listen to soft pop and soft indie and classical, and be with nature.

Would they enjoy a theme park? On one hand she would love all the cute themes and food, but on the other hand, she would be terrified of roller coasters and the crowds.

G. Family and Growing Up

Is your OC close to their family? Yes, she’s very close with her parents. She is an only child. Her parents were kind and nurturing and overall excellent. Poppy loves them so much and admires them more than anything.

Who makes up your OC’s family, at least the more important members to them? Just her parents!

Does your OC find their family supportive? If not, what would be an example why not? Yes! They have been super supportive since day one. They’ve actually helped her so much in terms of her acceptance towards being intersex and her dealing with it.

What kind of childhood did your OC have? At home, her life was just fine. Her parents were loving and accepting, she didn’t misbehave, and she excelled in school. School was a little rough due to her agoraphobia and anxiety, but she’s overcome most of that.

Did they go through any typical phases growing up? Not really. She did have that little girl horse phase though, the one where horses are the best thing ever.

Do they have any favorite childhood memories? Her favorite childhood memory is her parents taking her to a butterfly garden park.

Do they have any childhood memories they’d rather forget or be less affected by? Poppy would love to forget the types of bullying she went through but she can’t.

H. Romance and Intimacy

What is your OC’s orientation, romantic and/or sexual? Has it ever been a source of stress for them? Have they always been pretty sure of their orientation? Oooo boy. Poppy is polyamorous, panromantic, and demisexual. It’s been a great source of stress to her because for a while, she thought being poly was bad. This lead to her feeling even more different and left out in society, until she came to her parents about it. They reassured her and calmed her down and let her know it was completely normal.

Is your OC a thoughtful partner, in whatever aspect of that you want to cover? Yes! Poppy absolutely is thoughtful with her partner(s). She always gets them gifts from the heart and pays attention to what they love and what they don’t like.

Does your OC believe there’s only one ideal partner (or multiple ideal if not monogamous) for everyone, or that there are many people who could be right? Nope! She believes that it’s different for everybody. She’s polyamorous, but doesn’t mind being monogamous if it makes her partner uncomfortable with dating others. Poppy loses eyes for everyone else when she’s in love with somebody monogamous.

Does your OC believe in love in first sight? Absolutely. She’s a sucker for love.

Does your OC believe in marriage (or their culture’s equivalent)? Yes! She loves weddings and wants to get married.

Has your OC ever cheated on anyone or been cheated on? God, no. Poppy could never. And she would never want to.

What do they look for in partners? (Emotionally, mentally, physically..) She looks for somebody who strives for her to be a better version of herself. She looks for a loving, gentle person. Someone who understands her and is accepting.

What’s your OC’s idea of a perfect date? A small quiet picnic somewhere, with some nature involved. And soft, playful touches and games.

What are some things that your OC finds to be an instant turn-off in potential partners? Ignorance, impatience, meanness.

I. Food

What are their favorite kinds of flavors– Sweet, salty, sour, spicy, creamy, et cetera? Sweet and healthy are her two favorite. Yes, healthy is a flavor. She loves veggies and fruits, cheeses, and breads, generally snack food.

Do they have any eating requirements or preferences? Allergies, vegetarian, organic-only, religious restrictions… Poppy tries to stay vegetarian but understands that meat is nutritious and important for diets. So every once in a while she’ll have fish, chicken, turkey, etc.

Are they vegan/vegetarian (if their overall culture/species generally aren’t)? If so, why? Do they think animal products are wrong in all circumstances? As I said above, she’s okay with eating meat because of nutrition but she likes staying as close to vegetarian as she can. She thinks the way they kill animals for food is extremely cruel and wishes they would do it in more humane ways.

How often do they cook? Do they order out a lot? Poppy is actually pretty good with cooking due to her knowledge of herbs, veggies, and spices. She doesn’t order out a lot but she’s not against doing so.

Are they a good cook? See above!

Could they eat the same thing they enjoy over and over and not get bored of it quickly? Yes! She does that a lot, but she prefers eating different things.

J. Politics, Current Events, Environmental Aspects

Where does your OC stand most politically? What would they align with most? Poppy is independent. She doesn’t like taking sides and sees positives to both sides.

How politically aware are they? Poppy is pretty politically aware due to her concerns about the environment and global warming.

How politically active are they? Poppy will speak up to her followers about certain acts that limit funding for the environment and so on and so forth. She’ll go to protests but only if somebody goes with her and holds her hand.

Is your OC the sort to fall for fake news? If not, do they ignore it or make a point to clarify that it’s wrong? She used to be until she learned that that was a thing. Now, she talks to Violet and Jack about reputable sources.

Are they or would they protest for a cause they’re passionate about? Absolutely. She wants somebody to be with her when she does so, but she’s passionate about some things and would absolutely go to a protest about it, i.e. Women’s March, Science March, LGBTQIAA+ March, etc.

How do they react to people whose political viewpoints are very opposite of theirs? She tries to be respectful and debate with them and see where they are coming from, but once they resort to ad hominem she leaves.

How much interest in environmental health do they have? SO MUCH. Naturally, Poppy is very interested in environmental health since she works around plants.

In reality-based or applicable worlds, do they believe in global warming? Do they recycle? Yes and yes. She tries to be as environmentally conscious as she can be.

L. For the Writer/Owner

How have your characters changed since you created them? Originally, Poppy was going to be a redhead who wasn’t very empathetic and rather was very apathetic and quiet. Instead, she somehow became this tiny ball of emotions and love.

What do you consider the biggest themes in your character, if any? Nature, gender identity, love, anxiety, mercy, morals.

Did you create the character to be like yourself, did they end up being like yourself, or are they very different from you? I initially created her to be who I used to be, and then she ended up turning into the softer side of who I am today. She’s an emotional mess, much like me. She’s also a huge people pleaser and terrified of letting people down, also taken from me. However, she’s more moral and full of love than I am, and she’s more eco-friendly.

Would you hang out with your OC if you could? I would love to. She’s adorable and so full of love.

How did you come up with your OC? So, in the Danganronpa Tabletop game I created her for, I wanted to make the Ultimate Horticulturist so I could have somebody working with plants. I love plants but I haven’t done a lot in terms of caring for them so it was cool to do research for that. Then, I wanted to make her different from everyone else, so I made her intersex. It’s also cool to have an intersex character because it raises a tiny bit of awareness as to what intersex is. It’s sad because intersex people don’t get a lot of reputation in the media, or at all, really. Poppy transformed into a small, sensitive ball of love and adoration who had so much love and respect to give and I fell in love with that concept much more. She was also a good contrast to Redd (the fireball of energy and excitement) and Violet (my serious and logical character).

#poppy heathcliff #tabletonpa #my ocs

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adventures-of-mum · 4 years

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We’re all going on a summer holiday...

Health warning: this blog talks about going on holiday with a baby. I’ve written it because it seems to be a subject that is regularly discussed, and resonated with people when I have talked about it on social media previously. I recognise that many parents are not necessarily in a position to go on holiday and that the content below reflects challenges we are in fact lucky to have.

Friends of ours had returned from their first holiday with their baby and we eagerly asked them how their trip to France had been. We knew they loved French food and shared our general appreciation of holidays. We were not, therefore, at all prepared for their lacklustre response. “I mean, you’re just doing the same stuff somewhere different without everything you need, so it doesn’t really feel like a holiday.” We were shocked and sad on their behalf. We could not imagine a world where we didn’t return from a holiday waxing lyrical about our destination, the food, the people, the landscapes, the adventures.

Then, when Lorcan was ten weeks old, we went on our first trip together as a family. We headed for a few days in the Peak District-country air and pub grub was more than in order. We realised we had not left London for five months, probably our longest stretch ever. Hearing our walking boots crunch along stoney tracks, breathing in the fresh (and not so fresh) smells of the countryside, seeing shades of green, blue, yellow, brown, and birds, sheep and cows, walking through fields, over stiles, alongside rivers, through woods: it felt like our bodies and minds were having a good old stretch. I held my arms out wide looking over a valley below and took several deep, long breaths. I felt gloriously calm and content, full of relief that just a few months after Lorcan arrived we were all here, happy and healthy. We ate well, we slept relatively well, Lorcan charmed the people of Buxton and enjoyed his first proper train journey with only one crying episode- just as our train pulled into Stockport. We did not know what our friends had been so negative about- our first holiday was a roaring success.

Oh how naive, how innocent we were. How little we knew. How foolish we had been. A month later we found ourselves in France, with family, and a baby who had decided to de-familiarise himself with easy newborn sleep, ban the word ‘nap’ from our vocabulary, and did not want to go down for the evening when the wine was flowing, the sun was setting and everyone else was having a good time. Marry these abrupt changes with the renegotiation of family dynamics now there was a little baby in the mix and it made for a challenging time. We had essentially been friends with my parents for the last decade. We had fun, hung out, as adults, asking not a lot of each other and having a great time. Now we were all asking something of each other again, but on not much sleep and in a confined space, for two weeks. In a heatwave. We had some lovely days and great moments. We celebrated Lorcan’s four month birthday drinking bubbles on the beach as the sun set (having given up on getting him to sleep at a reasonable baby hour that evening). Mark and I had an evening to ourselves and the chance to get a full night's sleep. We ate well. I read a book and went swimming. As I write it sounds blissful. And yet, adjusting to the fact that the word ‘holiday’ now clearly meant something very different indeed took some serious brain power, lots of negotiating and airing of frustrations whilst we absolutely cream-crackered: it wasn’t the easiest time.

We’ve been on a few more holidays of varying adventurousness since. When holidaying as a three, I think we’ve sussed it. We know to do what we love to do, but in segments that fit with giving Lorcan the chance to wriggle and move, eat and sleep. We know that lunch is now our main holiday meal of the day and well and truly embrace this! We know we can enjoy amazing walks on not much sleep and we know a holiday lie in is the ultimate treat. We know Italians love babies and this baby loves pizza. We know it helps to shorten car journeys with stops at beautiful mountain lodges or stunning Italian cities. As usual, it’s all about getting the balance right. Yes there were moments- usually after we’d got the directions wrong, or when we couldn’t find an open supermarket, or that one time when our train broke down as soon as we got on it meaning we missed all our connections and had ten hours (not a mere eight as planned) with an energetic six month old on a train- where we sighed and asked ourselves why we hadn’t just stayed in one place. But we knew why we didn’t choose this type of holiday. We had wanted to explore, to see snow capped mountains and shimmering reflections in the lakes of northern Italy. We wanted to go on the kind of holiday we normally enjoyed and we booked this when Lorcan when was two months old, having no idea what things may be like by the time the trip rolled around.

It wasn’t exactly relaxing but the holidays where we’ve stayed in one place with a baby in tow haven’t been either. There were many moments of pure joy- watching Lorcan’s first lick of an ice-cream, swimming in Lake Como feeling my fingers move through the warm water at the surface as my legs kicked in the cool below, eating hot soup and drinking cold wine at the top of a mountain after an epic walk with incredible views. All the effort, the eight different accomodation stops, the multiple train journeys to get us there, the very broken sleep, the head puzzlingly complicated packing arrangements- it was all worth it.

Ahead of another family holiday I actually wrote what I ‘jokingly’ called a ‘risk assessment’. Yes, I know that sounds pretty ridiculous. My accommodating family took time to read it and respond. I so wanted everyone, including Lorcan and including me, to get what they needed on that next vacation: I wanted to avoid obvious holidaying pitfalls and make the most of the time we all had together. I came away from that trip with some reflections that still hold true for me months later which I’m sharing here in the hope they both resonate and help.

A change of scene can be a good thing. Pine trees, big waves and sunshine are always good things. Remember though that babies find holidays very exciting, which can mean they love to wake up loads- playtime sessions at 2am are a confusing mix of fun and desperate exhaustion. Luckily, family members can settle my baby for naps or bedtime even if it means a few tears as he’s used to me or his father doing this. I will get this out of the way at the start of the holiday next time, without question. There’s no doubt that travelling with a baby is probably one of the most tiring things it is possible for a human to do. I will (pretend to) build in recovery days at either end of trips in future (please note, we did this on our Italy holiday and it actually worked- what are the chances?!).

The best way to get your siblings who love sleeping out of bed with enthusiasm and excitement in the early morning is to provide a nephew. A baby on holiday changes family dynamics and challenges the previous holiday status quo- this requires ongoing effort from all the adults whilst we delight in the little person now in the middle of our world. And this last one is perhaps the most important one to always keep in mind- I am very lucky to be able to go on holiday, even if holiday means something very different now.

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lifeofizzy-blog1 · 5 years

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So you’ve finished uni, now what…?

The amount of preparation they give you before you attend uni, even before you begin to THINK about the possibility of going to uni, is often incredibly overwhelming. I remember being told to write out a ‘practice uni application form’ when I was in year 10?? They didn’t ask if I wanted to go to university (I knew I probably did but that is beside the point…), and I hadn’t even applied for college or sixth form yet, so it all felt a tad crazy to me...however, years later, I miss that over-preparation, I crave that over-preparation.

I often think back to the little goodie bag they gave me when I first moved into student halls overflowing with leaflets for local activities and coupons for free pizza, alongside of course the free condoms, weird protein shake and random bottle of hot sauce...I’ll tell you now, as ‘unnecessary’ as that may feel at the time, you’ll appreciate that sort of shit when it’s gone.

When I made the decision to move back home with my parent's post-uni, I don’t think I quite understood just how difficult it was going to be. Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve always had a good relationship with all my family, but I think it’s fair to say that me moving back in after 3 years of living independently, has been tough on everyone involved. As I go into my third week of being back home, I was thinking about the best way in which to describe post-uni life, and what I ended up with is essentially the 7 stages of grief.

Shock and Disbelief

I truly start to doubt how I ever lived here without constant arguments before?? Was I just easier to live with? Have my parents become more intense? Am I majorly overreacting? I do have a tendency to be dramatic occasionally... but I really don't think that this is what that is, I really am struggling...

Denial

I cling onto the fact that I have multiple friends that have moved straight to London, I think to myself ‘yup, I can do that soon, this is a pit stop, more temporary than ever, I’ll apply to some big internships in London and before I know it I’ll be independent once again’. Yeah, Izzy of 3 weeks ago, you were so wrong, so so wrong, and I think you always knew that really...

Guilt

The overwhelming sense of guilt I have about feeling this way is destroying me. Every time I meet up with friends I complain, I rant, I even cry about living back at home. I try to tell my parents it’s not personal in any way, it’s just a shock to the system. I was so very happy at uni, happier than I ever thought possible in formal education, and leaving all that behind was always going to be one of the hardest things I’ll ever do. On a drive back from the gym about 4 days into being back, I just burst into tears spontaneously. My mum asked what was wrong and the only thing I could muster up was ‘I’m just sad”.

Anger and Bargaining

I begin to feel so much anger towards myself about not ‘doing better’ at uni. I’m not 100% sure what I’m expecting of myself as I gained a first in my dissertation and will be graduating with a high 2:1, however something inside me feels I should have done better. I should have gained more contacts, I should have come out of uni and gone straight into a job with a £30,000 a year salary. Essentially, I feel like a failure.

Depression and Loneliness

As someone who was diagnosed with depression at the age of 14/15, I’ve been in situations where I’ve felt lower than many people at multiple points during my life, however during my last year of uni, a mix of surrounding myself with good people, and intensive therapy, really helped me feel pretty bloody good for a long time. So when I first moved home, feeling this incredibly deep and painful sadness was an unwelcomed but all too familiar feeling. At first, I struggled to differentiate between just missing my friends, being a bit sad about uni being over etc, and actual clinical depression, but looking back on that first week or so, I can confidently say now that I was in a dark place mentally.

Reconstruction and Working Through

After 2 weeks, I decided that I needed to actually plan things to do back home. All I’d done up till now was watch Netflix, go to the gym and sit around feeling sad… and don’t get me wrong as fun as all that was, I think it was time for me to actually commit to some activities. I messaged a load of local friends, made plans to go into town and actually started applying for jobs to make some money to save up for a flat in London, and all of a sudden I began to feel like I had a bit of a purpose again.

Acceptance

After the mild panic I had when I first finished uni, I actually sat down one day, thought about what my plans were, what I wanted to do in the next 5 or so years, and came up with a strategy to get what I want. I know that I can do these things whilst living at home for a while, and know in my heart there was a multitude of reasons as to why I was moving home in the first place. As long as I remember that, and keep reminding myself that although this isn’t necessarily where I want to be in my career/life right now, it realistically is the best place for me, for a while at least.

#uni #post uni #mine #blog post

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kristie-rp · 5 years

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Lucy

In the southernmost corner of the City of the Dead in Cairo, a small copse of trees grows. In the middle of it, there is one tomb, small and carefully crafted from worn red bricks. Flowers found nowhere in the city grow there year-round, cycling through soft blues and pinks. No one seems to care for them, and locals whisper that their god has blessed this place, or that the old gods – the ones not worshipped in Egypt for centuries – have never left this area. Others whisper that the place is haunted, more than the rest of the necropolis, and the restlessness of the ghost feeds the flora.

Four names are carved into the grave, with a lifespan marked for each. The engraving is inlaid with a shiny paint, gleaming pink and blue and white, continuing the theme of the flowers.

Amir Yehia died first. Years later, Stefan Nmir follows him.

Stef Nmir has the same date of birth as Stefan, and died afterwards.

Chiara Nmir died last.

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Chiara Nmir gives birth to her daughter at midnight on Friday the 13th. This point is hammered home by a superstitious nurse from Wales, who refuses to enter the room Chiara has been placed in. It is room 13, on Friday the 13th, and there was a blood moon to mark the start of her labour. Chiara is unaware of the way the woman crosses herself and pointedly refuses to be in the room; she is more concerned with her partner, Amir, who is holding her daughter while her firstborn, her two-year-old son, doses beside her on the bed.

Amir is humming as he rocks the newborn, and asks if Chiara has finally, finally, decided on a name for their daughter.

“Lucy,” comes the answer after a long moment of examining the little girl, coddled up in pink.

The baby girl – Lucy – makes a little noise at that, and opens her eyes to gaze blankly around her. Chiara and Amir blink at what they see.

Golden eyes, shining up at them.

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Things happen around the Nmir’s little girl that don’t necessarily make sense. Storms tear apart the nursery when she throws her tantrums, and the things she mixes together in the way children do, playing at potion-making, somehow leave the cat croaking for a week, like the toads she and Stefan find along the banks of the Nile.

It’s this that gets to be too much for Amir, or that is the implication Lucy lives with for a long while. One day, Chiara comes home in tears beneath her hijab, which is white tainted with the sand that moves constantly outside. She tears it off and unwinds her hair, coiled into a braid to pull it under control, and uses the fabric to dry her eyes. Lucy and Stef watch with wide eyes as she rubs at the tears, and crouches to their level. “Daddy isn’t coming home,” she whispers like it’s a secret.

And it is, in a way. It is bad enough for them that Chiara and Amir never married, and that everyone knows their much lighter son is not Amir’s child; in Egypt, a woman as head of household in the nineties? It wouldn’t go well for her, or for either of her children, especially when Chiara has never alluded to her extended family, to a father or brothers that might protect them.

“We have to leave, too,” she says at last to the confused and stunned children. They don’t argue – they don’t know how to.

In bed that night, half-packed suitcases on the floor beside them, Lucy and Stef clutch at each other. “Daddy’s run away ‘cause of me,” Lucy finally says aloud, for Stef’s ears only. She knows she causes things that don’t make sense. That their cat croaked for a week before it died. That storms are not supposed to happen inside, even though the wind is lifting her hair from the pillow as she speaks.

Stef shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything aloud. What is there to say? They both know the special things Lucy can do scare people, have scared Amir especially.

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When they move, it’s to Albania. Chiara chooses it because the first flight she can book three tickets on is going there. They are dependent on Chiara’s grasp of English from her childhood in America, and both children learn Albanian from school and the babysitter hired once Chiara finds a job.

Lucy does not like the sitter, and she is never shy about it. The girl, a teenager whose principle quality seems to be that she speaks English well enough to communicate easily with all of them, is named Valmira, but they’re told to call her Mira. Mira speaks English and teaches them Albanian, and she’s there every morning before school to shepherd them along the way. She makes sure they’re dressed and have lunch organised, and delivers them to the school next door to theirs.

Stef wants to wear a pink shirt that exists in Lucy’s wardrobe, one that says “unicorns rule, bro”. Technically it’s unisex, but it’s decidedly feminine in appearance. Mira takes one look at him and tells him to go change. “That’s for girls, like your sister. Not you. Don’t steal Lucy’s shirts.”

“That’s mean,” Lucy says, folding her arms over her chest and focusing very hard on not setting anything on fire, like the incident with the cookie.

“That’s life,” Mira corrects.

Lucy sticks close to Stef on the way, but that isn’t unusual. Although the stitches of their sitters clothing pulling themselves free certainly doesn’t happen every day.

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“I wish everyone would just call me Stef, like you do,” Lucy hears one night. She is eleven and Stef is thirteen, and they still share a bed even though they each have their own room, because they sleep better close by each other.

“It’s your name,” Lucy whispers back, because to her, it is. Stefan doesn’t suit her older sibling; Stef does.

There’s a pause, in which she knows he’s chewing on his lip. “I feel more like Stef than Stefan. I – I don’t want to be a boy.”

Lucy rolls over to look in Stef’s direction, and the bedside lamp flickers on in response to her magic. “So don’t.”

Stef is quiet for a moment. “It’s not that simple.”

She shrugs; it’s awkward with her laying on her side. “We’ll figure it out. You’re probably gonna be a better sister anyway.”

Stef snorts in response to that.

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Chiara enrols Stef in high school as Stef, not Stefan, and fills out the forms for a female student. She’s never been the sort to dictate the lives her kids lead, and with one mastering magic, the other being transgendered doesn’t register as something she needs to protest. It is who Stef is, and so be it.

So Stef attends school as the girl she is, and Lucy is two years behind but watching. Stef has always been quiet and sad in a way that sets her younger sister on edge.

High school makes her quieter, and Lucy gets more paranoid and observant.

And then Stef meets Rei.

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(An aside about Rei: he’s popular and well-liked. He’s got dark hair and dark eyes and olive skin and a crooked nose, and a warm smile. Stef is awkward, but catches his eye nonetheless. His favourite subject is math, because numbers make sense to him, and he’s generally pretty friendly, which works out in Stef’s favour.)

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Stef and Rei have been dating for eleven months when Stef comes out to Rei. Rei hears born male, but I’m really a girl, and is quiet for a few minutes before getting up and breaking up with her with a sentence – I can’t do this if you’re a freak.

Lucy finds her crying in her bed, and wraps her up in a hug, and swears that it’s Rei that’s wrong and Stef isn’t broken. There’s nothing wrong with her sister, nothing wrong with being trans, nothing wrong with having a male body and a female soul.

Stef cries herself to sleep and Lucy listens to it. She gets more and more angry at Rei, at the school, at Albania in general.

Rei’s family home is torn apart by wild winds that come out of nowhere. Word reaches around the school the next day when he isn’t there. Lucy and Stef both know what happened.

They don’t talk about it.

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“What do you think happens when we die?”

They’re old enough that they’ve mostly given up bundling together on one of their singles. They’ve taken to hanging out on the balcony while Stef runs through a couple of cigarettes, talking about nothing and everything and whatever comes to mind. Lucy hums quietly in response to the question, considering as she twirls little coloured bursts into the air.

“I think the Buddhists have it best,” she says at last. “Rebirth, soul continuing into a future life. Reborn in another body, you know?”

Stef is quiet, rolling her cigarette in her fingers. Lucy doesn’t know what’s going on in her head, and she can never decide if she wants to know or not. It would make it so much easier to help her – but it would tear her apart, too. Lucy thinks Stef might have depression, but it isn’t diagnosed, and no one wants her to actually see a therapist. They’ve heard horror stories of transgender people being medicated, their identity treated as an illness, and they don’t want Stef to go through it.

“Would I be reincarnated in the right body?”

Lucy almost doesn’t hear the question, it’s voiced that softly. Her response catches in her throat and she clears it multiple times before she can say anything.

“There’s always something wrong. It’s – this isn’t on you. I don’t know what the future brings, but you’ve overcome so much already. You can keep doing it.” Stef hums uncertainly, and doesn’t respond. Lucy can’t blame her, so instead she leans over to hug her. After all, it doesn’t sound like an answer.

It sounds like pleading.

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The day Stef takes her life, it isn’t a surprise. That doesn’t mean Lucy doesn’t feel that pain in her chest – the one she’s carried since the day of daddy isn’t coming home – get so much worse. Stef had been supposedly applying for universities in Albania, and it quickly becomes apparent that she actually hasn’t touched any of the brochures available to her. Instead, the lack of purpose seems to eliminate her desire to live, and Stef downs an array of too many unnamed pills, and slices through the veins in her arms.

Lucy and Chiara cling to each other in the hospital room that holds the body, ignoring the doctors who couldn’t stop the bleeding. Or maybe it was whatever combination of drugs Stef took, the ones they can’t find any remnants of, because Lucy’s magic ripped it apart into unrecognisable tatters, that killed her in the end. The ones the experts probably told them about and the two of them were too shocked to process.

Lucy clings to her mother like she’s a lifeline, and maybe she is, because something inside of her is unravelling and Lucy doesn’t know if it’s going to be possible to fill the void again.

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Lucy never actually graduates high school.

It’s a decision that she makes on impulse. She studies magic online, using books from the library and purchased online and ordered special, books that are published in English more often than any other language. By this point in her life she can communicate in four languages: Arabic and English, and Albanian and Italian. This makes finding new tricks of witchcraft to try far easier than it would otherwise be, and that is her focus after the death of her sister.

There are memories tied to the school system. She lasts for the remainder of the school year and then a month of the next before she gives in, unable to think of anything except the fact that this place played such a huge hand in Stef’s end. Her magic erupts in fits and starts, and that is part of why the research she does instead of studying is so important. She’s seventeen when she tells Chiara she doesn’t want to go anymore.

Chiara offers a small apologetic smile, and twists the fabric she is supposed to wear as a hijab in her hands. Lucy has never donned one, and it makes her next statement that much harder.

“I want to move back to Cairo at the end of the year,” Chiara says, fingers hidden in twists of scarlet fabric.

Lucy frowns at this, unsure what to say, or what to think. “But – but Stef’s here,” she says, feeling like she’s missing the point. “Stef’s here and we can’t leave her.”

She watches as her mother closes her eyes and presses her lips together, and it is clear that nothing good will come of this. “We carry her spirit with us, Lucy. That’s the way it has to work.”

Chiara is pleading, like saying it will make it true, but Lucy believes in reincarnation and somehow she’s tied it to location. If Stef comes back, she thinks, it’s going to be here, in Albania. She won’t come back in Egypt, where their father got sick of them and left, and it won’t be in America or wherever in the UK their mum grew up. So Lucy argues, and she refuses, and Chiara has to dedicate too much time to trying to convince Lucy to come, too, as she does not want to lose touch with the remnants of her family.

And then, because Lucy does not attract fair fortune, Chiara’s GP refers her to a specialist.

Neither of them had heard of ALS before that appointment.

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It’s actually called Amyotropic lateral sclerosis, but ALS is easier to say. It starts with a weakness Chiara has had for half of Lucy’s life, just a lack of physical strength that they – even Stef – had always joked meant the mother needed to exercise more. It’s the GP that notices the dragging foot, and manages to pry a confession of a stiff tongue and difficulty swallowing out of Chiara. And the constant pain, which has always been a thing Lucy knows her mum experiences, is apparently a symptom.

It’s nerves dying, from what Lucy is able to understand, and there isn’t a medicine or a potion that can stop it. She’s looked everywhere she can think of, and there’s nothing.

The second visit to the specialist is one Lucy pays proper attention to, asking probing questions and demanding a list of symptoms. Doctor Ademaj is patient and sympathetic and distant, and Lucy doesn’t trust him as far as her magic can toss him. Quality of life decays, he tells them, until death is preferable. And then death comes, when the lungs just can’t function anymore. He promises that part is peaceful, but from what they are told, what precedes it is anything but.

“Four years, if she’s lucky. Two if not,” he says, explaining life expectancy after symptom onset. “It gets worse, and it doesn’t really get better. Any care we can offer isn’t going to be better than end-of-life care.”

And she’ll be in constant pain, Lucy realises, and wants to cry. She refuses to, swallowing any potential tears and soldiering on. “She wanted to move back to Egypt, before all of this.”

Ademaj makes a face at that. “Perhaps she believes there are miracles to be found there. It is her choice, and yours if she begins to decay mentally, but I would recommend the care more than the travel.”

The young witch and her mother go home, and Lucy scours the internet and her books until she finds talk of a pain relief potion. It ends up being the first one she brews intentionally, the first of many. She augments it with things she knows are likely to help, for scientific and alchemical reasons she half-understands. The potion works, but the symptoms get worse, until Chiara is losing weight faster than Lucy can brew it back on, and tripping over her words.

“Maybe it would be worth considering taking her to Egypt, at least for a short vacation. It might help her,” Ademaj suggests at one visit.

Lucy knows this is a doctors concern, and that he is worried over the history of suicidal behaviour. His concern is being exacerbated by Chiara’s growing impatience with her own limitations. He wants his patient to live long enough to reach the peaceful death he is used to seeing.

So Lucy pieces together the funds her mother put aside, and sells half the things in the apartment to cover medical bills and the travel, and Chiara smiles properly at her when she tells her the news.

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Chiara’s hand jerks, and she tosses the book she has been staring at for longer than Lucy would like across the hotel room. It crashes into the bland water pitcher on the sideboard, and cracks it. Water spills onto the carpet.

Lucy is at her side almost immediately, magic spitting into the air and cracking the vase until it shatters. “Mum? Mum, what’s wrong?”

Chiara opens her mouth and closes it, over and over again. She cannot think of the words she wants, and the frustration pools as tears in the corner of her eyes. The movement she makes might be intended to wipe them away, but the gesture is violent and misses her face by much too far. Her gaze on her other hand is panicked, and she flicks it back to Lucy in clear alarm. She tried to move her arm, then, and it didn’t respond.

Lucy wipes away the tears herself, and pours pain relief potion down her mothers throat.

She doesn’t get a minute to herself until Chiara falls into a fitful sleep later that night, only after coaxing answers to what is wanted for dinner out of her. Lucy is genuinely terrified, and it keeps her up as the moon rises above the Nile. She has a dozen books with magical miracles she can learn to create scattered throughout the room, but none of them have the answers she wants.

The witch lets herself out onto the roof, too uncovered for polite company in this place. She doesn’t care, and paces the rooftop in frustration. She doesn’t speak, because she knows that opening her mouth will end in keening, and it is too late for tears. Tears won’t undo Amir abandoning them. Tears won’t make Rei able to live with a girlfriend who wasn’t born female. Tears won’t make Stef less depressed or more resilient or less dead. Tears won’t un-doom Chiara, that’s for sure.

Lucy’s mind is a whirlwind, and it’s ridiculous, but she’s pinning the blame on love. Chiara loved Amir, and look what Amir did. Look at the shell Chiara became afterwards, at how little Lucy really knows her mother. Look how Stef loved Rei enough for honesty, and didn’t have it repaid in kind. Look how whatever Rei felt for Stef was so insignificant as to be cast aside on impulse, without discussion of any kind.

Look how pointless it is to weep, when Lucy, for all her power, can’t even cure a little illness.

When she does cry, it will be because she realises that she doesn’t know if she’s seeing her future, too.

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Lucy buries her last remaining family before she is twenty, standing alone at a graveside. She is in Egypt for the first time since she was very small, and everything is suffocating and unfamiliar. Men stare at her uncovered hair and golden eyes, at the way the soft linen clothes she wears hug her curves. She refuses to be uncomfortable, and takes power from their gaze, draining their esteem in favour of herself. It helps that she knows if they approach her, she can eliminate the problem with barely a thought.

(She’s always been too powerful for her own good, and never been particularly attentive of morality.)

She does research once she has finalised the burial, for which she does not necessarily have permission. But the veil is thin across the world on Halloween, no matter where she is and what faith she practices. Sitting in a circle of moonlight, she follows the instructions Zach gave her, and learns what she needs to know.

Her heart, already cracked, breaks with what she learns: Amir Yehia was arrested in the mid nineties, for reasons that the spirit cannot prove. It seems he was accused of crimes against nature, of something impossible, and that the sentence was hard on him. Amir had been a healthy man, but he died before he served twenty-four months of his six-year sentence.

Lucy has always thought he couldn’t take the shame of having a witch for a daughter, not when the tradition he’d seemed to hold so dear – pray to Mecca five times a day, follow the straight path of the law, fast in Ramadan – left no room for the supernatural. All these years, she’s hated him and Stef hated him, uncorrected by their mother, who’d always seemed a little bit broken after fleeing Cairo; hated him for not wanting her, for fleeing from her magic.

And it turns out he was arrested for, probably, being blamed for something she’d done, barely past being a toddler, and certainly not in control.

She might be a brilliant witch, but she’s standing alone over a grave in Cairo when she realises that she’s a shitty person.

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No one in Port Lyndon really understands Lucy, though some certainly at least attempt to have patience with her antics. She has a reputation for a number of things: an armada of cats living in her cafe, a plethora of delicious baked goods, a talent for supplying drinks that suit a customer perfectly. A certain population revere her for her skills with transfiguration and transmogrification and potion brewing. Most of the fear of her is borne of her lack of morals: they see her dosing her goods with love potions and other charms for luck and joy and emotional experiences without the consumers consent, and see her as a villain.

The reality is that Lucy does not believe in love that is not born out of a bottle. Beings can claim to be in love all they want, but she has seen the way that vanishes with a detail, an act or a reveal; and she knows the damage the broken hearted can do. She does the world a favour, she thinks, by manufacturing the emotions people want, and providing it at no extra cost. To her mind, this is especially required in Port Lyndon, where large groups of dangerous beings convene.

So she brews her potions and slips them in, and never takes any herself. After all, things can change with a detail, and she doesn’t know what damage a reveal of her worst kept secret might do. Lucy chooses to live alone with her cats for company, and delights in the way she can make pain disappear, if only for a little while.

After all, she was born on Friday the 13th and her labour is tied to a blood moon. It’s apparent that while the circumstances of her birth might have given her magic, they haven’t given her fortune. And it tears Lucy apart, but the people she lets close are torn apart, too, and she can’t see it anymore. It’s easier to avoid it.

She figures it’s better, too.

#kwrites #kwriting #kristie writes #kristie's writing #ft. lucy #suicide tw #terminal illness tw #prison mention tw

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