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dollypopup · 4 months

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fuck it, gonna do it myself since the showrunners refuse to

Colin Bridgerton Background and Headcanons

+Colin was a chubby child, but became super lanky around his pre-teens, just before he went to Eton

+He would play piano with Francesca for Mum. He always wanted to play and sing for Papa, too, but Edmund was usually with Anthony and Benedict. Still, he and Fran would sit on the shorter velvet cushion so they could reach the pedals, and they would take turns singing silly made up songs, or church hymns

+Because of his age, he was always excluded from the 'Boys' club of the family. At ten years younger than his older brothers, and not an Heir OR the Spare, this is when he started getting particularly close with his sisters, El, Daph, and Fran. He and Daphne were almost inseparable growing up.

+Colin got SEVERAL makeovers from his sisters. They always said he was just as pretty as they were, and powdered him with too much blush, bribing him with extra snacks if he wore one of their dresses. He did, of course. Those Tea Parties were fancy affairs, after all. Once, Eloise tried to braid his hair for it, too, but it was just too short

+Of all his siblings, Colin is the only one Papa ever punished physically. After Colin hit Eloise and Papa saw, he horsewhipped him in the stable. Colin is a boy, soon to be a man, Papa said, he should never lay a hand on a lady, *any* lady. Colin wonders why he cannot hit a lady, but anyone can hit him. It's the start of his hero complex and his martyr streak, too. He does not matter in the scenario, others do. He can get hurt, but others cannot.

+It's not three months after Edmund dies that Colin is sent to Eton. He's the only boy in their entire family to ever go there, and the prestige of Oxford was just unnecessarily for a third son. The funds were already put aside, Colin's traveling trunk packed, and the first year paid out. He had no choice. As a lanky, scrawny, barely 5 feet tall 12 year old boy, Colin leaves everything he has ever known behind to mourn in private, on his own, far from anything familiar

+Eton has. . .to say problems would be an understatement. Colin is under the tutelage of the harshest superintendent of the century for only one year toward the end, but it is far more than enough. The treatment is horrible. (look it up, this is historically accurate!). 'Flogging Fridays' were so harrowing, the uprisings by the students ended in stalemates and fury. In that last year, Colin had long hit his growth spurt, and resented a bully deep, *deep* in his bones. In his last year at Eton, Colin broke so many windows in the uprising that for days after, he was picking glass shards out from his clothes

+His first year at Eton was hard. Colin was small and alone and had no one in his corner. He made friends with some others, but for the most part, he was an easy target for the older boys to pick on. His name couldn't shield him from that. Being so small, even when he tried to fight back, he wasn't very successful, and most times, they would report him for violence anyway, so his choices were two fold- sit down and take it, or square up

+Colin learns to box at Eton. It isn't encouraged, surely, but one of his classmates noticed how Colin was very much not having a good time and put two and two together. He was older, a bit fatherly, almost, even though he wasn't even 18, yet. It was his last year so he was less concerned with doing things as the world expected it. Colin followed him around like a little duckling. Everywhere James went, Colin went. They sat with each other to eat dinner, then would sneak off to spar and train. He was Colin's first crush. He never told anyone, but he *is* grateful

+When Colin comes home for the first time, he *knows* everything is different. There's already a rift forming. Colin becomes a haunt in the hallway, only there in the summers and for holiday breaks. Colin becomes a ghost, half seen, wandering Aubrey Hall. Mama is over the moon, of course, as over the moon she can be still deep in grief, as is Daphne, but Fran is quieter, now, and Eloise turns away from him, frustrated at his freedoms when she gets none. Anthony has no time for him, save to ask if his studies are well, and Benedict is busy taking care of the babs

+Colin's favorite place to be when he was home was with Hyacinth. He'd sneak into the nursery and gently hold her. Though there were nurses, Colin was there so often, they swore she never cried. The truth was, Hy cried often, but Colin would notice the signs and comfort her. It made him feel better, to know there was something in this world that might need him. No one else needed him. Not Mama, not his sisters, certainly not his brothers. So, he rocks the baby sister he barely knows, and he sings her lullabies, and he cries with her, sometimes, and he's just a little less alone

+He's 14 by the time he finally starts gaining height. A late bloomer, a professor or two teases. They thought it would never come, really. He'd been a been pole for as long as anyone could remember, ever since he turned 6, but all of a sudden, he looked almost skeletal. Shooting up near an entire foot was awful. For a lot of people in his life, this was the first they'd seen him be openly miserable and snappish. Sore and frustrated, Colin had the shortest fuse he'd ever had. Oh, he had a temper. Always did. But he typically knew how to reign it in. During his growing pains, it was impossible. This is the manifest of him not sharing his food- he was constantly ravenous, and lord help anyone trying to get between him and his plate

+Colin first meets Penelope when he's 16, filled out and coming into his own, an insta-crush for Penelope, but for Colin? First thing he thought after her bonnet knocked him off his horse is that she looked like a peach. All round and pink and in her yellow dress. Colin likes peaches. So Colin likes her. It was simple as that for him

+He never got into Eloise's rivalry about Penelope. Honestly, he didn't think about her very often. Penelope seemed sweet, but she was near silent. Eloise would tell him that she wasn't that way with her, as though bragging, and Colin just shrugged. He didn't have any real interest or investment in their friendship, but he did try to be polite. The one time, Penelope stood in front of him and tried to say something for an entire minute, only to squeak and thrust out a book at him, turning tail and making off. He found it surprisingly funny. She opened up to him slowly, got more comfortable in increments, but he thinks back to that moment and remembers that she's come a long way. Would be nice to see where they end up (forshadowinggggg)

+Colin doesn't like to drink. Never carried a torch for the taste, really, but other men did it, and only in drinking did they seem to have any semblance of closeness. Colin tries it for himself. It never really works out

+Charm becomes a second skin to hide himself in. Deflecting questions to other people, remembering details about them and bringing them up, asking questions and using humor. Funny how humor lands so much easier, now. At Eton, he had no protection. (No wonder he despises a bully) But now, he was grown. Now, he was a 'man'. A conventionally attractive man (he can't really deny it). He's tall and he's finally started filling out broad and big, and he uses it to his advantage. When he talks, in his mind, somewhere, he's still that 5 foot tall boy, crying in the carriage to an unfamiliar place or grinning and bearing it his first year at school. But this time, he has a cloak to wrap around himself. This time, yes, he's softhearted and tender, but he is also beautiful and knows how to focus on someone else, and he uses it to his advantage.

+Colin understands this privilege, because for a time, he knew what it was like without it. Colin sees what happens to those who do not have it, also. For Colin, charm is the sprinkle of honey over his bitter fears and concerns. For Colin, charm is the fun party hat everyone gets to see- not that he's sad, not that he's conflicted, not that he's unsure. He's pretty. That's enough for them

+But it isn't enough for HIM. Colin grapples with his purpose because the idea that he should be content to be attractive and well off and nothing else sits unpleasantly with him. Colin wants to be a self-made man, but he is denied the opportunity. So he tries to navigate the world as it is around him, having been pre-molded and determined to a certain outcome.

+So, Colin's arc is about becoming a Man, but he is not a conventional one, so he works from example. What do Men do? Colin certainly didn't have his father to inform him, so he relies on the other men around him. Well. . .Men visit brothels and have mistresses and drink whiskey and go to clubs, but Colin doesn't want to go to a brothel, and he doesn't desire a mistress, and whiskey burns when it goes down, acrid as the smoke thick and smoggy in the clubs. So. . .what else? Well, Men get married. Men take care of a family. Men are educated.

he can do THAT

+Colin attempts to marry in Season 1 not because he is fully infatuated (he likes Marina, sure, but his eagerness is not just rooted in such) but because he is attempting to find purpose. To find meaning. To be a Man, a GOOD man. And Good Men are married, so Colin will be married. Good Men take care of their family, so Colin takes care of his family, so Colin offers to BE her family. But because these are rooted in aimless endeavors (Colin wants to be A man, but not THE man he envisions for himself), they fall apart. Now, Penelope certainly has a hand in it falling to pieces, but Colin didn't really have the right motivations to start off with, so in season 2. . .

+He's depressed. It's odd to me that others would describe season 2 as an arc in which Colin is successful. The entire time, he is in a deep depression. Colin partakes in drugs, specifically to not think about the world, or to find peace and comfort. Colin claims that no one wants to hear his stories, even if he thinks he did everything right by traveling. (Remarkable. . .yes, in the sense that I have many remarks of it). Colin drinks even though he clearly hates it, gets migraines, hangovers, grimaces at the taste, because he is looking for ESCAPE

+But Colin cannot escape. Even on a different continent, even having run, there is no where to go. His escape is not from the ton, and not even necessarily from reality, but from his own insecurities. From what he feels are his inadequacies. Good Men are married, but in Colin's mind, he abandoned Marina. Good Men take care of their family, and Colin left his. Good Men are educated, and Colin is tripping on shrooms in the middle of Cyprus, looking at the stars, wondering what he's meant to do with himself. Colin's desires to escape are deeply rooted, but Colin doesn't want to escape a PLACE. He's done that for a long time. No, Colin wants to escape a PERSON. Himself. The himself he knows himself as

+So, instead, it's easier to be someone else. Himself is messy and sensitive and needs to rehearse what he says. Himself doesn't ever say the right thing (doesn't know how) and is boring to everyone else, besides. Himself is too painful, so it's easier to be Charming Colin. Helpful Colin. Colin taking down a scheme. Colin providing for others. Because he does not matter in it. They do.

+But he DOES. Season 3 sees Colin masquerading. Successfully, of course, but nonetheless. He's half settled into himself and half settled into the persona. When Penelope gives him the cold shoulder with no explanation? Persona. When Eloise avoids him? Persona. When Fran is getting trussed up like a calf for auction on the marriage mart? Persona. Colin spends so much of his life trying to be someone else

+And then he finds out Penelope is Whistledown, and the betrayal of it rips all his talent from him. He can no longer be Happy Colin, Smiling Colin, Here, I'll Help Colin- no, now he is just angry. Sad. Upset. Hurt. Conflicted. He can only be COLIN, and he does not want her to see. Does not want her to reveal it to everyone else, that the man they saw was a sham, that deep down, he is still that boy, that boy Marina said he was, that boy chasing dreams and fantasies, that boy curled up in the cupboard, sobbing about losing his dad, that empty, hollow boy, able to offer up nothing but charm

+But they will see. She will see. And he will see, too. Just who Colin really is. Just who he can be. And just how full and rich and wonderful the reality really is, mess and all

#colin bridgerton #polin #penelope featherington #bridgerton season 3 #eloise bridgerton #daphne bridgerton #violet bridgerton #francesca bridgerton #if you want it done you gotta do it yourself i guess #[cue mom voice]#no one helps me in this house #anyway hi yes it's me your resident colin fan feral for more of his content #i would say the water's just fine but girl we are STRUGGLING out here #penelope is his mess but he's ours and i love all of it

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stevenbasic · 6 months

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Growing into the Job, Post 357: That was Then, This is Now, p9

Okay, so he asked me to show this to you, to help tell the story again. I’ve told you before, that I write a journal? This is, like, part of my journal entry for that Monday when I found him passed out or catatonic or whatever in his apartment. It’s just quick but I hope it helps. Maybe someday, when this is all over, I’ll turn it into a book. Melissa says I'm a pretty good writer :D

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<<From the Journal of Aubrey Henson>>

“Oh my god Dr. J what happened !?!?!?” she yelled as soon as she showed up at your door. It was broken, missing shards of the frame laid on the floor along with her love boss. It took her a minute to come to grips with what she was seeing.

Had somebody hurt you?!?!?

It had taken her less than a minute to get up there. She had been at reception, checking in patients, when she felt it. Nadia was at the desk as well, and had given her a strange look. “Did you feel that??” she asked.

“Um yah, something’s going on,” Nadia had replied.

‘Something’?!? It was like your world had just screamed.

“Melissa just went downstairs to the construction guys,” she said with a new urgency, pulling off my her headset and already out from behind the desk, “call her.” She’d known Melissa had been spending some time with the men, more regularly recently, deep in the new basements. But she’d want to hear about this. Doctor Jay needed her.

She thought it must of happened on the way up. As she ran down the hall, into her Office Manager’s office, and up the little spiral staircase her breasts began to swell inside her pink tee and her new expandable bra. But she didn’t even notice that; she just needed to get to you. She couldn’t move as fast as she wanted; her silly-tall heels now quickly <CLACK-CLACK CLACKing> on the floor of your hallway and her tight pencil skirt kept her from running. Even these new long racehorse legs, all these extra inches, couldn’t move her fast enough.

She’d seen you, she’d seen the shambles of your apartment, and she’d been at your side in a flash. With you laying on the floor next to your little kitchen, your eyes were half-closed, turned up into your head weirdly. They were moving under your lids like you were in strange dream. Your mouth was slack, you were a crumpled little mess. Something odd was going on. You weren’t just asleep; that she could tell

She didn’t know what to do!!

She looked at you, now down on her knees aside you on the cheap laminate floor. She gathered your head into her arms, pulled you across her lap. Where was Melissa?!? She’d know what to do!

Had someone broken in and attacked you?!?

She was so upset! So scared!

She looked you over, laying there. She didn’t see any wounds, or bruises. Your scrub pants were torn, ripped away from your hips. She tried to keep from looking but yes she could see your penis becoming an erection. She liked to think you were growing it because you were in her lap. That you could smell her, feel how warm and soft she was even in your sleep. It was big, your penis, it was very big.

She looked at your face again. She looked at your eyes, still moving, still dreaming or whatever it was. And then, suddenly, she gasped, because she felt like if she looked hard enough, she could see what was in there.

You're dreaming about us, aren’t you? she thought. Or maybe she whispered it to you. She felt it now, though, for sure. Her breasts had swollen. She looked down at them, and cradled your head more closely. They were bigger than your head, oh my god, they were bigger than your head. You’re still dreaming about us, hm? All your girls? You are, I can tell. And it’s more than just a dream…

She bit her lower lip. She felt her thighs warming.

But it’s just me here.

We’re alone.

You whimpered a little, while you were dream-thinging about us.

“Oh, honey, baby, I know,” she began whispering to you, so gently, happy to finally speak to you honestly alone, “It must be a lot to take in.” She knew others, Melissa, were probably on their way - they must have felt it too, right? But for now she had you all to herself, if even for only a minute. It was her job to comfort you, make sure you were okay ‘til help got here. She would talk to you while you dreamt. She thought for a moment, and couldn’t resist.

“You used to be the daddy here. You were my boss, you were in charge. You’re dreaming about that, huh?” she began again, “But now it's different, isn’t it?” She watched your sleeping face, giving you a tender smile. “With all these women so much bigger and taller than you it’s hard, huh?” Still she looked down at you, with a new look in her eye. She was thinking, for sure, and trying to read your face. “All us ladies now, so much stronger than you,” she spoke softly, adjusting your head in her arms, turning your face towards her. Your brow furrowed…what was going on in this dream? “All us ladies,” she continued, pulling you toward her left breast, “so strong, with our big, big boobies…”

With that she pulled you in fully, gently, into the swell of her firm bosom. She guided the nub of her nipple - plainly swollen through her bra and tee - towards your mouth. She pushed it between your lips and even in your dreaming you responded oh god you did. Your mouth opened to accept her thick nipple, and began to suck lovingly at it through her shirt and bra. With the soft mass of my her breast against your face, she lost herself in that moment, even as she knew others would be here soon.

She didn’t want to wake you, but she imagined your eyes opening, searching up over her bosom to her face and she sweetly smiled a comforting greeting. Somehow, with all that had happened, she could make you more comforted than ever before. Calm and with no worries in the world. It was as if she was your protector and the one who would make everything feel right again. “There you go,” she purred down to you, “You’re getting to be just the right size for this, aren’t you my darling? Just the right size to suck, and be held, and be loved and cherished by all of us here.” But mostly me.

Oh my that made her feel so naughty!

Her words ran over you unheard as she gently cut her fingers through your thick hair. Her shirt was getting wet from your sucking. You, lost in your dream, said nothing. “That’s it, baby, that’s okay,” she whispered, “you just enjoy yourself.”

Did you feel her nipple push deeper into your mouth as her large breast mashed against your face, plastering its soft weight across your face with its more than ample size? She looked down, between your legs, to see how you were responding and gasped a little to herself. You were uncontrollably hard now, throbbing, and - biting her lower lip in her excitement - she couldn’t help herself. Still holding your head to her breast she continued to stroke your hair, and you continued to mouth at her, but now she reached to take hold of you. Her whole body trembled at the feel of your stiff shaft in her soft hand, the thickness and weight of you, veins running turgid up your length. She began to gently pump you.

“Oh, that’s it, baby, suck. Suck on my breast,” she cooed, allowing you your pleasures down below. “Mmmm…that’s right, goooood. How does that make you feel, honey? Better?” The two of you continued like this for a small bit, several long moments of pleasure before suddenly you were interrupted...

I She opened my her hand, dropping you free. She wasn’t as chagrined as she thought she’d be, being caught like this. No, Nadia appearing at your door, finding the two of you, barely made you blush. It snapped you back to reality, but it didn’t feel wrong.

“Okay, what happened?” Nadia asked, surprisingly unbothered by what was in front of her. She obviously hadn’t rushed up here, even after having seen her coworker explode away from the front desk.

She looked up to Nadia and spoke again. “We should call the police,” was the first thing she said, surprising herself with how calm she sounded in response. Reluctantly, she was pulling you from her breast. The wet spot from your mouth was clear on her pink tee shirt, over her nipple.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Nadia responded, a funny tone to her voice as she surveyed the scene, “I’ll tell Olivia. She’s away but she’ll need to know about this.”

”Olivia?” she asked, “But…Melissa’s on her way up?”

——-

Thanks for reading all this. I know it’s not very good but like I said it’s mostly true.

===============================================

thank you RiF for the editing!

#growing into the job

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shardofhope-fanfic · 5 months

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DREAD HUNT 50K CELEBRATION!

Dread Hunt has hit 50K hits and 1000 Kudos! I've been watching this goal closely for a while now, and decided a LONG time ago when I hit that goal, I would have a special little event!

I will answer your questions!

Now what does that mean? Well, for the next few days, any asks sent in with "DREAD Q&A" will be answered by the cast? THATS RIGHT. you will be able to ask questions and the cast of Dread Hunt will answer them to the best of their ability (current cannon chapter being 37). You wanna bother Sunny with your questions? You wanna ask what Kel thinks about snails? Wanna annoy Aubrey? NOW IS YOUR CHANCE. (No nsfw shit man, you know the drill.)

If you want a chance of your questions being answered by the cast, submit your question via my ask box by Friday the 24th, with "DREAD Q&A" at the top!

Its that easy!

Happy hunting!

Shard

#omori fanfic #omori fandom #dread hunt #DREAD Q&a

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fermiomoriblog · 2 months

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I've abandoned this blog, haven't I? If two posts counted as a blog in the first place. Just haven't had time.

So a quick, lazy post today - top 5 favourite ao3 fics, in order:

These Days Without You by Smitty - I've called this the gold standard of sunflower before, and I haven't met anyone else who disagrees. Smitty is a highly talented writer. Masterful utilisation of headspace and the descriptive writing.

Their Time by ShardOfHope - This gets #2 not because of any shade on Shard, but because 1. it is shorter, and its value kind of does lie in the fact that it is shorter, 2. it is quite a bit darker so may not be suitable for everyone (but has a good ending, dw) and 3. sorry, but you do need a proofreader. (let me be your proofreader pls)

I won't spend too much time explaining it because virtually any explanation is a spoiler. All I'll say is, if you ever feel like you want to hurt yourself, read this. (And also talk to friends and therapists, of course.) Unironically.

Deep Down, We're Still The Same Kids by witheredahlia - fluff. All the fluff, and canon compliant, and still hits hard. It is, more or less, the best immediate post good end story.

The Everyday Shenanigans of Aubrey by Practicallyunethical - me, a filthy sunflower shipper, putting a sunburn fic on here!? But the author does handle the fic really, really well, taking what I can only call a surrealist approach to life. It's a bit hard to read, like all classics, but it is one of only a handful of omori fics that I can make genuine literary comparisons to the likes of James Joyce, etc. Beautiful work.

One More Time by GalileoGalilei - Another sunburn fic? Am I even a sunflower shipper anymore? (yes.) But I think that anyone who has read it will quite agree that it is an excellent and impactful work. There's lots of angst - this is post bad end - but a glimmer of hope at the end which keeps the reader going. It does fall into the "shafting Basil aside" pitfall I mentioned in my first post, in my opinion, but that does not detract massively from the value of the fic.

#omori #omori fanfic #omori sunflower #omori sunburn #brainrot.txt

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shatteredssillylounge · 6 months

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Welcome!! come on in!!!

hello!! welcome to the shattered lounge!!

first things first, let's introduce the people who work here

SHATTERED OMORI

the star if the show!!! (for the blog obviously) you can also call him shard (alto came up with the nickname, who will be introduced next!) he may be dumb at times not not be able to do everything perfectly, but he means well in the end, and he does most things with a smile!!

ALTO (design in the picture below!)

basically shards partner, but for the most part she just works there.. anddd make sure the building doesn't get burnt down on accident-

And now for the menu!

chocolatey chippy... (comes in a few kinds of cookies!!)

FRENCH FRIES

simply salty and delicious

LEMONADE

ok who added me to the menu.. /j -blog owner

SODA

fizzy!!

MYSTERY ITEM

who knows what you might get

HAPPY MEAL

probably the most random thing on here

hope you decide to stop on by!

(the menu will be added onto when i get more ideas!!)

OTHER OFA BLOGS!!: @thebasilbuffet @kel-restaurant @hero-cafe @aubysfoodtruck @maris-snack-shop @omoris-bar @mewos-macaron-mansion @basils-plants-and-potions @somethings-diner @spiders-atypical-delicacies @humphreys-all-you-can-eat @hskels-mexicanfoodstand @spaceboys-sushii @sweethearts-sweets @berlys-confectionery @the-maverick-asian-restaurant @omolis-edible-bank @butlers-shop-of-cat-stuff @ms-bettars-food-blog @strangers-very-normal-snack-shop @hectorshotdogstand @kims-not-stolen-things-snacks @rococos-bistro @suzuki-sibs-bar-and-grill @mr-jawsums-sushi-bar @sproutmole-tofu @basils-wine-cellar @aubreys-aubergines @rowans-archery-cave @sallysstationeryandsnacksstore @mollys-sushi @angels-awesome-snacks @roboheartgoods @betacharactercafe @snaleys-breakfast-club @kels-fast-food-joint @house-and-deaths-pharmacy @bunnys-best @suzuki-parents-and-co-pizzeria @pollys-bnb @mutanthearts-sticky-sandwiches

BLOG OWNER: @l3m0n-c0r3

OFA DISCORD: https://discord.gg/7rqvfH3qGZ

#shattered omori #omori #ofa #omori food administration #omori oc #omori alto #the lemonade part was so funny you should laugh rn /hj #this took longer than it should have #waa..

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nonbinaryaubrey · 1 year

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Do you think that when Shattered Omori and Shattered Aubrey hold hands, their shards sometimes get stuck in/on each other?

If they shatter together, do you think they try to reassemble each other like a jigsaw puzzle, trying to figure out who's who?

Only for Shattered Aubrey to take Shattered Omori's heart and say "yep this is definitely mine." or "since you stole my heart it's only fair for me to take yours."?

SADIODSOKAD maybe.. would be a bit silly. they trade sometimes its fine <3333

#they try to put eachother back together normally but its annoying trying to find all the right glass pieces and they r impatient!!!#asks #anonymous #aubrey.txt

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justsomeno1s · 1 year

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BasilKel swap AU notes

Woo! I've been sick since friday, so I figured I'll post some BK swap notes! These are from text messages with my irl friend- We finally beat the Omori route, and were supposed to do the Sunny route this weekend, so if some things seem off, its cause they don't know The Truth yet. (ALSO: THEY KNOW MY USER NOW!! HII!!!)

Anyway! Notes under Read More!

Idea originally came because of the Blurry Kel drawing/mod on Tumblr. Friend lit said "Man, imagine if Kel is the one who went missing instead of Basil?" and so it began.

A couple of HS Skill ideas for Basil: Plant powers, such as vines to slow enemies down or flowers to affect EMOTIONS. Also, I realized the pun Flash Bulb (As in, the kind used for old photography, and plant bulbs) and that's too good to not mention.

Friend was the one who came up with Kel Recording idea, b/c we were discussing what we wanted "his" house to look like. (In replacement for Basil's Shoe, Kel and Hero get a Blanket Fort! You'll see soon!)

This one's a bit weird, so stick with me: Kel's Pet Rock, formerly Hector, currently Roro, is going to be tied to the fast travel/Pluto "replacement". All we have nailed down for now is that most of the planets are going to appear and speak in one way or another (Roughly around Sweetheart's Castle section), and that the Mars representative is going to a giant space dog named Rover, and he'll act as fast travel. [Look, look- No one on this team should learn Flex /hj]

Hero's gonna end up being a bit short tempered by the end of the Headspace section. At first, he can hold it together, but as they search more and Kel goes unfound, the pressure makes him snappy.

Original text from friend: "Hero replacing Kel in bickering with Aubrey because of how callous she is acting about Kel's disappearance and Hero just not taking this well, snaps at her from time to time [return] Basil is just trying to break it up whenever it happens" (I'm not 100% sure how I feel about The Older Brother (tm) arguing with a kid, but it could be fun- or at least interesting)

Black Space is going to be fun! And by fun I mean angsty (hopefully")

I don't think Kel would go quietly. If he can fight, he will. The Neighbor Area and Spider Area would show that best, featuring Kel actively entering a battle against the friends (and dying after refusing to hurt Hero) and fighting Something in the Walls (Overwhelmed and consumed by Sunny's fear) on his own.

The other three are a bit harder to place/closer to the original:

Melon would need to be changed to match the pillows/cardboard aesthetic, but functionally could be the same.

Raft would be weird, b/c again, Kel would fight! If Omori attacked him, then he'd try to fight back, right? Unless he was killed in one hit, I guess, but still.

Treehouse... I mean, I guess it works! Don't fully get the Subtext of that one, tbh.

Then there's the room of original content!! Woo!

Remember Rover? Giant Space dog? I kinda want him to kill Kel in a Black Space room. Like, Rover has a key in his mouth, and Kel trusts him not to bite, so he reaches in to grab it, and naturally, Rover would bite him in half, then spit out the key.

Maybe a side room, where Omori tries to walk somewhere, but his feet get cut up by glass shards? idk

When I get some more time, I'll talk about some of the Real World ideas we came up with.

#basilkel swap #omori au #no1sy #long post

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awanderingmuse-ficrec · 1 year

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Shards Series

Fandom: Riordan-verse

Author: BobInTheComments

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-con, Major Character Death, Underage, Child Abuse

Word Count: 86,489

Pairings: Piper McLean/Leo Valdez, Jason Grace/Piper McLean, Calypso/Leo Valdez, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Hazel Levesque/Frank Zhang, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace, Nico di Angelo/Percy Jackson, Allison/Lisa, Hades/Persephone, Natalie Chase/Frey, Athena/Frederick Chase, Randolph Chase/Caroline Chase, Grandpa Chase/Grandma Chase, Magnus Chase/Alex Fierro

Characters: Piper McLean, Leo Valdez, Herbert West, Hans Gruber, Tristan McLean, Lisa, Allison, Percy Jackson, Nico di Angelo, Persephone, Brian Bender, Bianca di Angelo, Shoggoths, Dagon, Mother Hydra, Nyarlathotep, Annabeth Chase, Grover Underwood, Necronomicon Ex-Mortis, The Nameless Mist, Natalie Chase, Frederick Chase, Randolph Chase, Grandpa Chase, Emma Chase, Aubrey Chase, Magnus Chase

Tags: Post-The Burning Maze, Past Jason Grace/Piper McLean, past Leo Valdez/Calypso, College visits, Miskatonic University, yeah that place, Zombie Apocalypse, Piper and Leo are still mourning Jason, Piper has distanced herself from everyone but Leo, They're 18 now, Tristan tries to be a good dad, Leo does what he can for Piper, Friends to Lovers, Leo is going to torch a zombie, Biohazard | Resident Evil References, Horror movie references, these two are going to make a lot of bad jokes, Die Hard References, Alan Rickman Tribute, Puzzles, Resident Evil style puzzles, Silent Hill References, Universe 100722, Physician's Cure, lots of death, everyone not in the character list is fodder,now with art!, Cover Art, Lotus Hotel and Casino, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 1: The Lightning Thief, Things went bad at the Lotus, Shattered!Percy, Shattered!Nico, both try to make sure this Percy finishes his first quest, Grief/Mourning, Immortality, Sequel to True Love, Fate denied, Character Death, Blood and Gore, Sequel to Shattered, The survivors continue their search for the Necronomicon, Time takes its toll on their sanity, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Family Dynamics, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Abuse, Natalie centric, Toddler Annabeth, Baby Magnus, set in 1995, Chase Place, Everyone Needs A Hug, Money Doesn't Buy Happiness, The Chases Are Not Close, Too Much Trauma, Frederick Kinda Sucks As A Parent, He Gets Better(ish), Universe 072590, That's right, world building

Beauty Queen and The Real McShizzle Vs. Re-Animator

Piper McLean isn't the girl she used to be. Not since he passed away. She's done nearly everything she can to remove herself from the world that took the life of the boy she loved and refused to help her get him back. The only bridge she hasn't burned being one Leo Valdez, who is coincidentally immune to fire. Two years have passed and now she's trying to move on. A college in New England has a scholarship that would guarantee Piper a free ride. All she has to do to qualify for it is attend an overnight campus visit. It should be a simple and boring affair, but she's bringing Leo along for emotional support. But you can't take two demigods anywhere without expecting some form of trouble. This time, that trouble is in the form of a mad scientist with a syringe of glowing green goo that can reanimate the dead. Let the chaos unfold...

The Whisperer in Darkness

In the ruins of The Lotus Hotel and Casino, Percy and Nico continue their search for the Necronomicon...A sequel to "True Love"

Gatherings

The Chase siblings return to their childhood home for the first time in years. Only Annabeth is happy to be there.

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tidetospine · 1 year

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CHAPTER 1: Execution

THE EXECUTION OF AVRIL DUBOIS: MORT DU CHARLATANE

Full execution under the cut. Art by: Crow, Moa Written by: Emily

Life had not been fair to Charlotte Fontaine, and Avril DuBois would not be either. She was not enough of a sentimental fool to throw away her life like that. Not after she had gotten this far.

She brings her arm back, preparing her mirror shard, but -

That moment of hesitation was enough to do her in. Charlotte has the upper hand, and quickly pins Avril down to the floor. She lifts up a gleaming silver kitchen knife right above her chest, and the last thing Avril can think is that it’s quaint. Of course it’d be a kitchen knife - that was the only type of weapon a young lady such as Charlotte would have known how to wield, wouldn’t it be?

Charlotte Fontaine plunges the knife into Avril DuBois’ heart, and they are finally back at the start.

She wakes up in a terribly familiar basement.

Avril DuBois has never been here, of course - but she has been trapped here once before, in her past. She’s sat on these tile floors and she’s seen these fluorescent lights and she knows all-too-well what it feels like to be handcuffed against those paint-chipped walls.

Ugh, she thinks. Not this again.

Really, it’s awfully unoriginal. She’s literally already lived this horror story. Is she really meant to go through it once more, now with an even worse ending?

She stretches awkwardly to reach into her pockets, and to her delight, it seems that the answer is a resounding no - unlike the last time, there are bobby pins in her pocket. She started carrying them after the incident, spending a sleepless night on YouTube learning how to pick a lock with one. Even after all these years, she’s kept up her practice.

Her diligence paid off, and she’s able to easily get out of her handcuffs. Once that’s done, it’s just a matter of leaving the room. It seems this isn’t a one to one replica of that little village home, as the door leads her to a new room that she’s never seen before.

The room is large, but almost completely empty. There’s only one object of interest - a grand floor to ceiling mirror with regal gold trim.

She looks into the mirror - her visage is gorgeous, as it always is. But after a few moments, the reflection shifts - changes into a woman who looks almost like her, just with slightly longer black hair and a sleek monochrome outfit.

It’s Fleur le Blanc - the last person she was.

Avril doesn’t move an inch, but Fleur’s reflection gets closer and closer - until she breaks through the mirror all together, the glass shattered into shards that fall around the room.

Fleur charges towards her, and suddenly Avril understands exactly what the game is. She’s not that torn up about it, all things considered. She’s “killed” Fleur le Blanc once before, after all. She had really wanted to dye her hair white, and it would have been so tacky to do that with a last name like le Blanc. She was four months in any way - even if she hadn’t wanted to change up her look, Fleur would have been dead sooner or later.

So she’d have to kill her once more, this time in a less metaphorical way. That was fine by her. What was a third death, after all she’s done? After she’s gotten this far?

She grabs one of the mirror shards, and she lunges towards Fleur. Stabbing her is so easy - and soon, brilliant scarlet bleeds onto Fleur’s monochrome life.

She looks back towards the mirror, and just as she had suspected - Marianne Baudelaire exits from the mirror. Marianne was one of her bolder creations: she wore a striking golden eyepatch, 5-inch silver heels, and stylish brass knuckles. She was so much fun to play around with. Shame she only stayed for two months.

But no matter how dashing - Marianne was still meant to be dead, and Avril would have to remind her of that. Still stained with Fleur’s blood, the mirror shard is soon soaked with Marianne’s.

Past versions of herself keep coming - Olivia, Yvonne, Noelle, Juliette, Sylvie, Aubrey, Valentine, Désirée, Margot, Elodie, Brigitte. All of the women shared her same build, her same basic features - but varied wildly in every other aspect.

She kills them all with ease, because this has always been the fate of her identities. Once they are no longer useful, once they provide too much history and too many burdens, she kills them swiftly. This is what she has done for many years now. This is what has kept her sane.

Finally, Elise Leroy comes out - her first creation. She had never realized just how hideous that haircut was. But it was that shitty haircut that had allowed her to become Elise, and it was becoming Elise that had allowed her to find freedom and happiness. So she couldn’t begrudge her that much. She dies just as quickly as all the rest.

Avril allows herself a sigh of relief, this part of the task now completed. The shard in her hand is soaked with all of their blood, but she doesn’t feel any remorse. It’s all herself, in the end, and she’s always known the price of her lifestyle. She turns to the mirror, ready to face the next challenge, and that’s when she sees her.

Dressed in baby pink, with flowing brown hair - a straw sunhat resting upon her head and a soft smile resting upon her face -

Charlotte Fontaine.

She could be forgiven for being taken aback. She never thought she’d see Charlotte again - not as anything beyond a blurry photograph in a trashy magazine.

Nine years ago, trapped in that basement and surrounded by the stench of death, Charlotte Fontaine died. She had stepped in to take her place - to become Elise, the Brigitte, then Elodie, and so on, until she eventually became Avril.

The two of them shared a past, but little else. Charlotte was never her creation.

It wasn’t fair to kill her, not when Charlotte was the only one who never signed up for this death of identity. But it wasn’t fair when Charlotte was kidnapped and saw her entire family slowly die in front of her eyes. It wasn’t fair when Charlotte had her life and tragedy scrutinized by a vulturous media.

Life had not been fair to Charlotte Fontaine, and Avril DuBois would not be either. She was not enough of a sentimental fool to throw away her life like that. Not after she had gotten this far.

She brings her arm back, preparing her mirror shard, but -

Charlotte Fontaine plunges the knife into Avril DuBois’ heart, and they are finally back at the start.

#danganronpa #fanganronpa #danganronpa roleplay #danganronpa oc #oc rp #drrp #dr rp #tide to spine #chapter 1 #avril #execution

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alostsock · 2 years

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Bridgerton Ficlet

Here have a mini-fic that may (but honestly probably will not) turn into a bigger fic later.

Summary: When the Bridgertons don’t hear from Anthony for a few days, Benedict is sent to go find him, and is rattled by what he finds (no character death)

TW: Self-harm, discussion of suicide attempt (like it looks like one at first), depression, blood

It wasn’t entirely unusual for the Bridgerton clan to not hear from Anthony for a few days. Sometimes his work would take him away from London. Sometimes he would opt to work in his own apartment. Benedict knew there were multiple reasonable excuses for his brother’s absence from their family home, but none of them had satisfied their mother, and at her insistence (and perhaps because of a niggle of worry of his own) he was knocking at the doors to his brother’s flat.

The butler let him in. “His lordship is upstairs.”

The staff were well-practiced at maintaining stoic faces, but Benedict couldn’t help but notice tension in the air.

Perhaps he should have stopped to ask, but his worry had only grown since entering his brother’s home and he found himself hurrying toward his brother’s rooms. Finding them empty, he redirected himself toward his study, knocking insistently on the door. He was met with silence.

“Anthony? Anthony, I know you’re there. I have learned to pick locks and I will not hesitate to do so.”

When Benedict still did not receive an answer, he knocked several more times. “I can also just break down the door, brother, don’t test me.”

Another knock without an answer, and Benedict tried the handle, a small breath of relief escaping him as it turned easily.

“There are only so many times one can fall asleep at one’s desk before one should realize that - “

He trailed off as he rounded the desk and got a full view of his brother.

“Anthony!”

The ground was scattered with broken glass - a large piece containing the remains of the neck made it clear that it had come from a broken whisky bottle. Anthony was seated slumped over with his back to his desk. In his right hand was a fairly small shard, but up his left arm ran a long, jagged cut that was still bleeding sluggishly. Benedict swallowed back the urge to throw up.

Dropping to his knees in front of Anthony he barely avoided landing on glass, but he paid it no heed as his hands immediately came up to touch Anthony’s face, pushing back his hair as shaking fingers went to his neck, to his cheek.

He was breathing, but he didn’t even twitch at Benedict’s touch.

“Anthony, Anthony please.”

The door creaked as a maid hesitantly leaned a concerned face in.

“My lord, Mr. Bridgerton -”

Benedict didn’t bother with formalities. “Fetch a doctor. Immediately. And get me a towel.”

—

A few hours later Benedict found himself sitting at his brother’s bedside in his apartment. He had sent word to his mother at Aubrey Hall that he had, in fact, tracked his errant brother down, that all was well, and that she should await their return, perhaps in a week.

He knew a week would not be enough to hide the evidence of the horrendous night - after all, the evidence that would remain on his brother’s forearm - but he did not think he could come up with a reasonable excuse to hide Anthony away from her for much longer.

Would he tell her what had happened? He wasn’t sure.

He honestly wasn’t even sure himself what had happened. Anthony had yet to wake, and even when he did Benedict was doubtful he would be willing to divulge the details of what had occurred.

—

Several hours on Anthony started to stir, and Benedict could hold back his questions no longer.

“Did you do it on purpose?”

Anthony blinked, slowly, as if having difficulty parsing the sentence.

“What?”

Benedict sighed. He gently took his brother’s left hand in his, thumbing the bandage that wrapped around his palm and up his arm. Though he was careful not to move the arm from where it lay on the bed, Anthony still winced.

“I… I fell.”

“You fell.”

Anthony bit at his lip before nodding a little hesitantly. “I fell.”

Benedict bit back a frustrated retort. After a beat, Anthony continued. “I dropped the bottle, it broke. I bent to pick up the pieces but I… I fell. I put my hands out but I landed on a piece.” He turned his hand over, pulling it out of Benedict’s grasp. With his other hand he started to trace the edges of the bandage on his palm. “Here...” he trailed off.

Benedict didn’t say anything. Landing on a shard would not have done the damage that he had seen.

Anthony picked at a thread that was unravelling from the white cloth. “I went to pull it out...”

Benedict wanted to be relieved - he had gone to pull it out, he hadn’t meant to do it - but as Benedict’s eyes traced the line up his brother’s arm where he knew the long cut was hidden beneath the doctor’s careful wrappings he felt his stomach tighten with worry.

“You are not well, brother.”

Anthony avoided his gaze.

“There is no fever, there is no infection, I am fine,” his voice was barely a murmur.

Benedict took a deep breath, grabbing his brother’s arms to stop him as he turned to face him. He waited until Anthony raised his head to meet his gaze.

“Brother... Anthony... anyone can see that you are not.”

#fic #bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton #angst #fanfic #bridgerton fanfic #tw: self harm #tw: depression #tw: depressive episode #tw: suicide attempt #(not actually but it looks like one at first)#benedict bridgerton

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hannahsheppardsblog · 11 days

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its common for people who enjoy outdoors activities to enjoy a beer afterwards

beer brings people together and allows people a moment to relax and talk about how fun the shard event experince was

its because beer is cool, crisp and carbonated so acts as a thirst quencher

2007 study shows beer is better at rehydrating the body than water due to the salts and sugars to help the absorbtion of fluids and the. carbohydrates help replace lost calories

people who tend to exercise also tend to drink

craft beer drinkers tend to have a healthier lifestyle than average beer/wine/spirits drinker

both exercise and drinking increased brain activity related to reward processing

this shows the culture around beer drinking is reward oriented when looking at active people and something i need to keep in mind when designing and making decisions. i need to think about how this might relate to blues music, as it has a different vibe because it sings about struggles and hardships in a more lower mood.

Laurance, Aubrey. “Everything about Mount Baker in Washington State!” Mount Baker Experience, 17 Feb. 2017, www.mountbakerexperience.com/. [Accessed 18 Apr. 2024.]

#research #contextual #final major #target audience

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donald-dyke · 5 years

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I can’t believe Aubrey is Sylvian herself.

#taz spoilers #not really more of a theory but #taz amnesty #I mean think about it. she 1) was able to bring life back to sylvain #2) push back the storm thats been seeking revenge from sylvain’s fall #3) the whole ‘it could be your sister if you had a sister’#she wasnt born in sylvain but had early access to the crystal #what if sylvain stayed dormant in that shard until aubrey was born and just. lept in her?#and aubrey beats the quell with just. comforting it #its a HEART after all #ALSO she understood the interpreter when she was saying something else #and she shouldnt have been able to do THAT #aubrey has also been confirmed to have SYLVAN magic #and though im sure it was an error #She took off her jacket with the pine guard patch in Heathcliff’s cave and didn’t lose her grasp on reality #taz

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

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54. I’m not sure what you think I said, but you start calling me an asshole and whip a ruler at me and somehow, we both end up in detention

Indruck, sfw, please?

Here you go! Content note: spiders appear at one point.

I based some of this AU--namely the concept of the Crucible and how magic is channeled--on the Carry On series by Rainbow Rowell. And Duck is trans in this, because any good wizarding school is inclusive.

After three years at Amnesty Academy, Duck is used to the objects being magically propelled through the air. But a ruler zipping through the air and smacking the back of his head is a new, unpleasant experience.

He tracks it to two chairs to his left, the new third year with the silver hair. He hasn’t even been here a day, what the fuck the is his problem?

“Hey, what the hell man?”

“You know very well what.”

“Uh, no I don’t, and I don’t appreciate bein hit with a fuckin ruler!”

“The maybe think before you insult someone next time!”

“I didn’t fuckin insult you! I don’t even know your name!”

“Ahem.” Ned, their Charms professor, looks down at them reproachfully, “gentlemen, while I know the review of Zone of Truth is rather dull, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t entertain yourselves with mindless conflict.”

“Sorry, Ned.” Duck mumbles, sending his pencil shooting below desk level to whack the other guy in the leg at the exact same moment he whips his pen at Duck’s hand.

“OW!”

Ned sighs, “I hate to do this, but-”

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“Detention! Lovely, my first day here and I’m in trouble. Thank you so much, Duck Newton, for landing us here.”

“You started it!” He growls as they take their seats. God, he hopes this isn’t one of Woodbridge’s days.

“Huh, only two.” Mama wipes her boots on the mat, closes the door behind her, “Afternoon, Duck. And…”

“Indrid.” Says his nemesis, “It is nice to meet you Professor C-” he cocks his head, “you really prefer I call you ‘Mama?’”

“Yep. Never could get behind that more formal stuff. Let some of the first years call me ‘Ms. Mama’ if they really need to feel like they’re showin some deference.”

Mama is deputy Headmistress of Amnesty. The only reason she’s not fully in charge is that she’s not a witch and some families object to that. So The Quell technically runs the school while Mama does most of the actual day to day work. She also teaches a course of non-magic practical skills because, “some things you can’t magic your way out of. Like taxes.”

Duck loves her class and, while he doesn’t understand why someone would opt into this weirdness, he admires the guts it takes as a fifteen year old human to walk into a wizarding school and declare that there was plenty you could learn there even though you couldn’t so much as send a spark from your fingers.

As he and Indrid watch the clock tick down, Mama pulls a bag from her satchel. The contents are cookies, which she offers to each of them.

“Barclay tryin’ out new recipes?”

“Course he is. Kid is gonna be the best damn kitchen witch in the country by the time he graduates. Guess he’s plannin to spend the summer drivin around and learnin the food magic of different regions.” She smiles, “bet you’ll never guess who’s goin’ with him.”

“Joe?”

“Bingo. Apparently he wants to study niche cultural magic.”

Duck’s pretty sure there’s another motive; sharing a van bed with Barclay. It sounds fun, roving the country, discovering new places with someone handsome by your side.

All that’s by his side is a glower hiding behind red glasses.

“Mama? I, ah, would it be possible for me to leave five minutes early? I’m supposed to get my pairing from the Crucible tonight.”

The older woman looks between the two of them, “Better tell me how you landed here first. Ned just said it was an argument.”

“He threw a ruler at me outta nowhere.”

“It was not, you know what you said.”

“The last thing I said before you hit me was ‘“nah, man’ when Billy offered me a pizza roll from his lunch.”

Indrid goes still, “Oh. I, ah, I misheard you. I thought you said 'mothman.' I apologize. I ought to have given you the benefit of the doubt.”

He seems so suddenly downtrodden that Duck shrugs, “Yeah, you should have. But it ain’t the worst thing that’s happened to me here. Not by a long shot.”

“No kiddin” Mama leans back on the desk, “Two of you can go at five til.”

His evening turns uneventful after that; dinner, hanging out with Juno and Aubrey, half doing homework and half fucking around on his phone in his room (the agreement between the school and the government is that a long as the students don’t post vidoes of themselves doing sick stunts with magic, the government will ignore any explosions and/monsters in the vicinity of the school).

He’s never had a roommate; when the Crucible spat out his name in fire on his first day, there was no other name with it. Almost everyone else rooms in pairs or trios. So his belongings are strewn about the tiny cabin that makes up his home away from home. Which is why, when the door creaks open at ten p.m, he sits up and prepares to fire off a spell.

Indrid stands in the doorway, one bag over his shoulder and another in his hand. He looks tired.

“Hello, Duck. Ah, I guess that one is my bed, then.”

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The class schedules for Amnesty are generated by the heart of the school itself. Indrid isn’t entirely sure what that means, but the heart must not be terribly creative. It stuck him in divination class. He’s been seeing the future since he was five, managing it with his drawings since he was eight. Even the professor has no idea what to do with him, since the images come in like a garbled T.V signal when he uses a crystal ball and the cup shattered when he tried to read tea leaves.

At least Barclay gave him a conciliatory caramel while they swept up the shards. It made him feel a bit better, though whether that’s due to enchantment or Barclay being exceedingly good at cooking is hard to say.

And now he has to go to “Magical Weaponry.” Magical Defense he understands; there are still lots of malicious forces out there, or even just everyday evils that it’s good to be able to ward against. Plus, Vincent is a good professor, enthusiastic and understanding.

Professor Minerva is just as enthusiastic but twice as loud. This is their first day in the actual gym, as opposed to at a blackboard, and his visions suggest it’s going to go poorly for him. As it should; he’s not a fighter, he’s a disaster.

At Amnesty, magic is channeled through objects. Most people use wands or their hands but some, like Aubrey, use jewelry (a necklace from her mother) or another accessory.

Duck Newton uses a sword. Or he’s trying to. The sword seems to be winning.

“Exert your will on him, Duck Newton, he answers to you!”

“I answeeer to only the capable.”

“Shut up, Beacon.” Duck adjusts his grasp, but nothing happens until he drops the sword and sends a spell through his fingers. The target explodes. Indrid suddenly feels a bit better about his own probable performance.

Duck notices him, indicates the practice area next to him is clear. While they started off poorly, his roommate is doing his best to demonstrate southern hospitality. He invites Indrid to eat with him, helps him when his visions offer no help in navigating the grounds, and even lent him a blue and green shirt (Amnesty's colors) for his first Spirit Day. Duck is the best thing to happen to him in his first month here.

By the time class is over, they have six broken targets, a shredded mat, and a knife that is now a very confused frog between them. They manage to laugh about it, even as Duck scoops up the amphibian and tucks him into his shirt pocket.

It’s then that Indrid realizes he has a crush.

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“You comin to the game tonight?” Juno measures her sapling.

“Assumin nothin comes up and nobody’s tryin to kill me, you know I’ll be there.” He loves cheering Juno on during her soccer games (hey, not everything has to be magic based, even at a wizarding school).

“Drat.”

The hissed frustration draws his attention to the far end of the work table. Indrid is trying to coax his Venus Flytraps to perk up, but they remain brown and limp.

“Need some help?”

“Please, as you clearly know what you’re doing.” Indrid tilts his head towards the sapling pine tree Duck is working on. If he does his growing spells right, he’ll be able to take it home as a Christmas Tree during winter break.

“You tend to picture words or, uh,pictures when you do your spells?”

“Images work best. The trouble is that the futures sometimes make it difficult for me to picture a spell clearly.”

“What if I try describing how I’d see it and you picture what I say?”

“It’s worth a try.” Indrid closes his eyes.

“Okay. Think about the roots drawin water up from the soil, about the traps absorbin nutrients from prey. That brown is goin green as they do, they’re stems are growin stronger…” he grins as the plant turns bright green, it’s mouths open, “hey, ‘Drid, look”

“Oh!” Indrid flaps his hands, “it worked! Now I can keep them healthy and big andohno, nono not again.”

The table cracks and collapses as the plant turns gigantic, blocking out the light from the greenhouse roof.

“Holy fuck, that’s great!”

“Language, sport, but I agree.” Thacker, the head of the magical Horticulture classes, whistles as he looks the plant up and down, “this is mighty impressive Indrid. Wonder if we could use it on some pumpkins come fall…”

“I don’t recommend it, unless you want them to chase people.” Indrid points to one of the heads, which is swaying in the air and lowering closer to him. It snaps and he leaps back, falling to a pile of potting soil. Thacker raises his walking stick and the flytrap returns to its proper size.

Duck helps Indrid up, but his friend stays quiet through the end of class and on the walk back to their room.

“You know it ain’t anythin to be ashamed of, right?” Duck flips on the light, “we all fuck up spells now and then. Hell, Aubrey is on track to be the best spellcaster this school’s ever seen and she still has trouble.”

“But mine go haywire constantly” Indrid flops, dejected, onto his bed, “forget mastering my powers, I’ll be lucky if I graduate able to keep them in check. If I graduate at all.” His hand searches the bed blindly; Duck sets the weighted, plush bat into so Indrid can set it on his chest.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never lasted more than a year at a magical school. Or a non-magical one. I started at Mt Vernon when I was fifteen. Tried Deep Hollow and Shasta the year after that. I’m powerful but I can’t seem to channel it well, and three different schools decided I was more trouble than I was worth.”

“Bullshit.” Duck rests a hand on Indrid’s knee, “you’re strugglin with somethin; that means you need more help, not less. And if anyone gets it into their heads to kick you outta Amnesty, I’ll raise a goddamn ruckus.”

Indrid chuckles, quiet and disbelieving.

“I’m serious. You know Aubrey and them would side with me, and Joe knows school policy well enough he could probably find a reason why them tryin to get rid of you was against the rule.”

“Thank you.” Indrid’s smile is a rare flower, fragile and stunning.

“You want one of those calm-down caramels Barclay made?”

“Please.”

Duck grabs the box from the cabinet of their little kitchenette, then snags a Coke and a pineapple soda from the fridge. Indrid is no longer horizontal, is instead sitting with his back to the wall so Duck has space to join him.

Under the fizz of fresh bubbles, his friend murmurs, ‘“Have people really tried to kill you?”

“Yep. Someone sent an assassin after me my first year, and there was a Dire wolf on the grounds last winter that was clearly locked on to my scent. Perk of bein a Chosen One.” He grumbles as he swigs his drink.

“...Who on earth sends an assassin after a fifteen year old?”

“Right?! Fuck if I know, they never got any information out of the guy. Fuckin prophecy I swear, I didn’t even want these powers, let alone to be some kind of hero.”

“I sympathize.” Indrid rests his head on Duck’s shoulder, “there are prophecies around my birth as well.”

Duck clunks their bottles together, “To bein’ fucked over by stuff we can’t control.”

Indrid drains his soda, then perks up, “Oh! Oh dear, you should go if you want to be there for Juno’s match.”

“Come with me?” Duck can’t get the image of the two of them sharing a giant pretzel while smushed thigh to thigh on the bleachers out of his head.

His friend grins, “Of course.”

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Duck hoped, after his not-great time in middle school, that a magic academy would be asshole free. But no, there are assholes everywhere, and these ones have even more tools for tormenting their targets. He’s never been one, nor have any of his friends. The one time someone tried to bully Barclay, Dani sicked three spectral hummingbirds on them until they apologized.

Indrid, odd and new, is an easy target, though he seems to hold his own just fine (and his proximity to the most powerful witch in school does scare off many potential antagonists). But three guys in their Magical Defense class have zeroed in on him.

They’re standing in line to practice against an evil eye when Indrid’s glasses, the ones he doesn’t take off even when he sleeps, hit the floor by Duck’s feet. Duck scrambles to grab them before they get stepped on, wondering why everyone is making such a fuss. Then he turns and backs up in alarm.

An eight foot tall moth creature is where Indrid should be, red eyes wide and claws clicking together anxious.

“Who let that thing in here?” Someone yells from behind him.

Indrid’s antenna flatten.

“Fuck, wasn’t expecting him to be that big a freak” one of the bullies scoffs.

Black wings twitch.

“Newton, give him the glasses back so we don’t have to look at him!”

Indrid trills, upset, and leaps into the air at the same moment Aubrey yells, “that’s enough” and Vincent shouts a reminder about no flames in enclosed spaces and also detention for you three. Duck is to busy climbing out the window Indrid flew through to pick up the details.

One two-story fall later, he’s chasing a dark shape into the Monongahela forest. While the parts of the woods near his hometown of Kepler are non-enchanted, this chunk is magic down to the moss (he plans to write his final year project on how those halves of forest mesh on an ecological level). One of the worst aspects of the enchanted portions is their tendency to re-shape around travelers. His usual way around this is to have an unwavering sense of where he’s going and pretend the woods are giving him an unchanging path to get there. But that trick does fuck-all when he doesn’t know his destination.

After two hours of searching he’s no closer to finding Indrid, it’s getting dark, and he’s debating heading back to the school for help. He hasn’t been this deep in the woods since he fled the Dire Wolf, and he knows the deeper you go into the trees, the wilder the magic becomes. Bad news for him, even worse for his friend who's out there somewhere, upset and alone.

Eight gigantic eyes glitter at him from the dirt, and he quickly rearranges who has it worse right now.

Throwing a burst of light into the trapdoor spiders eyes buys him enough time to bolt to a tree and climb. As soon as it crawls free of its burrow he freezes; if he’s remembering right, they use vibrations to locate prey.

Fuck, that thing is the size of a VW Beatle. Why is that even a thing? No spider needs to be this big!

In spite of his stillness, it spies him and sets its forelimbs on the tree-trunk. There’s nothing else for it; he draws Beacon, pictures the spider shrinking, and casts his spell.

A soft crunch of leaves signals it hitting the ground, now an unremarkable size for an arachnid. Just as he steps down a branch, a second trap door opens and an enraged spider bursts out, looking for it’s friend. When it can’t find it, it turns and snaps its mandibles at Duck. This time, Beacon does nothing, no matter how Duck commands and curses as his eight-legged doom gets closer.

A crackle of electricity and then this spider disappears as well. On the other side of the trunk, red eyes regard him with worry, “are you hurt?”

“Nah, all in one piece thanks to you.” He holds out his hand, “you wanna head back?”

“Yes, please.” Indrid flaps to the ground, Duck following him on foot and then turning them towards campus, “you did not need to come look for me.”

“Course I did, not gonna let my friend get swallowed up by the forest. Oh, here” he holds out the red glasses, “you want these back?”

“Not just yet. That is, if this form is not too alarming to you.”

Duck takes in the glossy feathers, the charming ruff, the way the face is still obviously Indrid yet excitingly new, “I’m good.”

Light flickers from black claws, stars and flowers spinning out with ease, “It’s so much easier when I’m like this. I never foresaw my disguise charm being an issue, but the older I’ve gotten the more it seems to influence my ability to control my spells. But, well, you saw how people reacted. Even you were startled.”

“In my defense, I thought you’d been eaten by, well, you.” Duck casts the same spell, vines of light chasing the red flowers, “I’m still sorry, though. You ain’t horrible like this, ‘Drid; you’re fuckin stunnin. Never seen anyone as incredible as you.”

Indrid stops, looking down at him, “Do you truly mean that?”

Duck rises on his toes, pecking his cheek, “Yeah, I do.”

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

The Halloween Formal is the most elaborate event at Amnesty. Indrid feels that if there’s any day he’s within his rights to be in his true form, it’s when everyone else is dressed as monsters.

He doesn’t have a date. He thought Duck was in the same predicament. Then his friend left before he was half-done grooming his feathers, saying he needed to get flowers for his hot date.

Ah well. At least Indrid will get to see him there and spend some time with his friends.

He checks his reflection in the gleaming black walls, orange and purple lights glowing and jack’o lanterns floating above his head. He adjusts his robes, the nice red ones his father sent him, and prepares to enter the ballroom.

“Hold up.”

When he turns, Duck is standing there in his black dress shirt and green tie, looking for all the world like he’s alone.

“You got one more thing to put on” He holds out a bracelet of flowers, sized to slip perfectly over Indrid’s hand. There are matching flowers pinned to one side of Duck’s hair.

“Oh. Oh my. You really-”

Duck uses a small spell to bend Indrid into a kiss; it’s a bit messy, since their mouths aren’t meant to fit together, but Indrid would not trade it for all the magic in the world.

“Yeah, ‘Drid, I really do.” With that, Duck offers his elbow and they walk arm in arm into the great hall.

#indruck #indrid cold/ duck newton #meet ugly #wizard au

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bliss-bud · 2 years

Note

OKIE, LET'S START WITH AUBREY

Let's start with my PGE (Post Good Ending) Aubrey being a COMPLETE SOFTIE.

Some time after the Good/True Ending, Sunny visits Faraway for Summer Break. He stays with Basil and Polly then.

During a normal day of usual Gay Sunnflower Shenanigans, including Basil messing Sunny up in his quest to beat Hard Mode in the original Kirby's Dream Land for the GameBoy, Aubrey barges into the house looking...WORSE FOR WEAR?

Several cuts and bruises are all over her body, her feet are scraped, THERE'S A SHARD OF GLASS (which is. uh. deep in her head) IN HER HEAD FOR GOD'S SAKE

I'd go more into detail, but for now, just look at this stupid fic I wrote for more context.

and dang it, I have stuff to do atm, so take that fic for now, I shall return later

oh wow thats one rollercoaster of a few bullet points,, you have piqued my interest. welp time to read the fic!

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patriciasage · 3 years

Text

i’ll cover you

Author: Patricia_Sage

Fandom: The Adventure Zone - Amnesty

Pairing: Duck Newton/Indrid Cold

Summary:

Duck’s not wearing his helmet.

That’s the thought that enters Aubrey’s mind as Duck flies through the air and into the side of the barn. He crashes through the painted wood and lands in a cloud of dust and hay.

[posted in full under the break but you can find me on AO3]

Duck’s not wearing his helmet.

That’s the thought that enters Aubrey’s mind as Duck flies through the air and into the side of the barn. He crashes through the painted wood and lands in a cloud of dust and hay.

“Duck!” Aubrey yells. Her friend answers with a groan and a cough. Aubrey feels a mixture of relief and concern; he’s alive, but he doesn’t sound great.

The abomination, an unsettling beast with many limbs and many, sharp teeth, moves to pounce through the hole in the wall. Aubrey’s about to blast it with flame but something beats her to the magical punch.

The Mothman crashes into the abomination and the two of them break a huge tree trunk in half with their impact. “Timber!” Ned shouts. He and Aubrey avoid the tree as it hits the ground. They make eye contact over the fallen log. “I was under the impression that Indrid would rather not engage in combat,” Ned says. Aubrey shrugs. She spies gleaming red in in the grass nearby and pockets Indrid’s glasses. They run toward the sounds of a monstrous scuffle.

This outing was meant to be reconnaissance only. The Pine Guard trio had brought Indrid just in case his visions could give them some clues. Instead of a peaceful investigation of Mrs. Rahimi’s acreage, they found the source. The abomination is a horrifying approximation of a creature. In the setting sun, they had seen it consuming one of the cows with a huge mouth and way too many limbs. It noticed them before they could retreat.

Indrid had stepped back, alarmed. “I’m not – I didn't see it until - I don’t have a weapon!”

Duck had moved in front of him, Beacon drawn and gnashing for a fight. “S’alright, dear, we gotcha. Hang back.”

Indrid is done hanging back, it seems.

The Mothman is locked in a thrashing embrace with the abomination, slashing with his claws and stabbing with his pincers. His huge, dark wings are fluttering to balance him. The abomination has too many limbs for him to block, though, and he’s taking some hits.

“Shoot it, Ned!” Aubrey commands.

Ned lifts the NARF Blaster with a steady hand. Aubrey can see the apprehension in his eyes, but his mouth is set in a determined line under his beard. He pulls the trigger.

The abomination lets out a guttural sound and twists out of the Mothman’s grip. To everyone’s horror, it begins running toward the barn. “Shit!” Aubrey says, letting out a blast of fire that misses the creature and smoulders in the grass. Ned fires another foam bullet, but it only catches one of its legs. It barely slows.

The realization that Duck hasn’t emerged from the barn yet sits like a stone in Aubrey’s chest. The abomination is coming to finish him off. Aubrey and Ned are sprinting as fast as they can, but they know they won’t be able to catch it.

There’s a thunderous beating of wings as the Mothman swoops down from above and grabs the abomination. As he raises it into the air, it goes limp like a cat that’s been scooped up by its owner. But as they ascend higher it begins to struggle. Aubrey and Ned watch in awe as the Mothman’s huge wings carry the abomination up into the pink sky. “I can’t believe he can carry it,” Aubrey says, catching her breath. Next to her, Ned agrees. They crane their necks and follow the red dots of the Mothman’s eyes as he gets smaller and smaller.

The abomination is dropped from an incredible height. It falls, flailing, until it meets its gruesome end. Aubrey and Ned flinch as the creature is impaled on a nearby fencepost. “Ouch,” Aubrey mutters. The abomination doesn't move.

“Your precision is impressive –” Ned says as the Mothman lands, but he pushes past them without even a glance and dives through the hole in the barn’s wall. Ned and Aubrey follow, avoiding the splintered shards of wood around the opening.

There’s a horrible, suffocating moment when Duck doesn’t move, crumpled in a pile and covered in bloodstained hay. Aubrey nearly rips Ned’s shirtsleeve in her grip. But then the Mothman places a gentle, clawed hand on his hair, and Duck stirs with a groan. “Wha’ happened?” he mumbles.

“Dude, you gotta wear your helmet!” Aubrey says. When she moves forward, the Mothman whirls around, snarling, wings fully extended as a shield. Aubrey freezes, looking up into huge, red eyes and pincers dripping with the abomination’s blood. “H-hey now.”

Ned is at her side again, hands extended placatingly. “Friend Mothman, we mean no harm.”

Aubrey can barely see Duck behind the Mothman’s imposing form, but she hears him hiss in pain as he moves into a seated position. “You don’t gotta talk to him like –” He cuts himself off with a sigh. The Mothman deflates a little and she sees Duck clumsily stroking the feathers of his wings. “He’s still Indrid. He just got scared. But I’m alright.”

“With all due respect, Duck, you don’t look alright,” Ned says. It’s true. Duck is bleeding from a head wound and his shirt is stained red where the abomination pierced him in its grip. He’s holding his ribs gingerly.

“Yeah,” he rasps, “I should probably go to the hospital.” He gives the Mothman a final pat on the back with his free hand. “Come on, ‘Drid. Let them in.”

The Mothman moves aside, allowing Ned to move to Duck’s side. His wings are folded and twitching and he’s wringing his clawed hands together in a very human way. Aubrey attempts to shake off the instinctive fear that rises at the sight of his imposing insectoid form and approaches him. She takes his red glasses out of her pocket and offers them.

He puts his glasses on and he’s Indrid again, tall, skinny, and pale. Tears are streaming down his face. He looks pitiful and Aubrey considers her inability to distinguish fear from anger in his Sylph form.

Duck hears Indrid’s sniffles and turns from where he’s now propped against Ned’s side. “Oh, darlin’, come here,” he says, beckoning with the hand not currently wrapped around his friend. Indrid hurries over and collapses into a cautious but desperate hug. He wraps his long arms around Duck’s broad shoulders and buries his face in his neck.

Ned is an awkward yet sympathetic part of this embrace, and Aubrey nearly laughs at his expression. It’s kind of a strange third-wheel situation. She takes pity on him. “Alright, time to go, boys! We’ll have plenty of time for hugs and tears when Duck is snug in a hospital bed.”

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry,” Indrid says, wiping his nose on his cardigan as he pulls away.

They exit out the front door of the barn. Mrs. Rahimi is nowhere to be seen, thank God, and they make their way across the field to Ned’s car. Aubrey wants to comfort Indrid as they follow closely behind Ned and Duck, but she doesn’t know whether he would want his hand held by her. He’s stopped crying now, watching Duck attentively with a worried and protective expression. She decides to just ask. "Can I hold your hand?"

He starts a little when she speaks. She realizes he must be entirely focused on Duck's futures if he didn't predict her question. He thinks for a second, then answers in his soft-spoken, unsettling way. "Yes."

His hand is cold. They walk in silence for a while. “You did good,” Aubrey says.

He looks down at her for a moment. “I don’t even really remember what happened, if I’m being honest.”

“You made an abomination shish kebab is what happened.”

“Oh.”

The setting sun reflects off of Ned’s car. Aubrey sits in the passenger seat next to Ned while Indrid holds Duck tenderly to his side in the back seat.

Aubrey picks up Duck’s helmet from the floor and hands it to him. He flips her off with a crooked, tired smile. They drive to the hospital.

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