#but anyways i could rant about that for an hour so ill save that for later lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thatdeadaquarius · 1 year

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Reader that can emit sounds from their memory(like as an aura)

Walk into a room? Why do I hear boss music

Comedic timing? Fuck yeah.

Bored? Jumpscare noise.

Zhongli talking? Jeopardy theme.

Someone is annoying? Earrape.

Think about it!

Hello! I’m the 12th Harbinger, aka as CHIL- bitch shut the fuck up, WHATS UP ITS YA BOY AQUARIUSSS- /ref

lmao imagine you walking into a room like this in teyvat, with like that audio I SAVE BY GIVING IT CPR- TIGHT AS VIRGIN BOY DONT GET NERVOUS-

(also ill stop apologizing for the late replies to these, bc as we all know by now that im slow and u will get answered eventually i promise tumblr most likely didnt delete u guys asks im just hoarding them LMAO)

I’ve been super busy running in circles so sorry about ghosting! I still very much enjoy and love u guys and love seeing you guys enjoy my stuff :’)

Still cant believe that, but thank you!

JEOPARDY THEME MUSIC WHEN ZHONGLI TALKS

HE’D BE SO CONFUSED

THINKIN HE GOT AN ANCIENT CURSE HE DOESNT KNOW ABT PUT ON HIM OR SMTH BC HE’S ALWAYS BEING STALKED BY THIS SONG-

(tbh unless the person is super observant I dont think most ppl would get that it’s YOU causing this chaos lmao)

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Like I can see Zhongli eventually getting it lol, other ppl I could see after the first few weeks of interacting with you (esp bc you mix it up, honestly it was only bc u kept playing the jeopardy theme over and over when Zhongli ranted on too long that he got it was you 💀):

Heizou (he’s the best detective on all of Inazuma’s islands, ofc he got it! no he will not acknowledge that he totally thought you were hiding a very musical tanuki somewhere on your person at all times lol)

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Alhaitham and Cyno (haitham took like, two hours of walking around town with you and knew, bc he’s a little know-it-all lazy bastard like that, and Cyno is actually just really aware, despite what most ppl think, he’s the General Mahamatra and not just a regular Mahamatra for a reason after all)

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Tighnari (i stg he can like, smell when bullshittery is happening in his vicinity …or... hear?)

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Venti (unsurpringly, he’s totally in love with this power of yours, i mean he definitely loves you cares about you a lot he says, but you’re starting to think he’s just lying to butter you up into pranking Diluc, Barbara, Jean, and really the entirety of Mondstadt more often including Zhongli just so he can laugh until he’s on the ground again, also he definitely once asked you to make a dragon sound that’s the equivalent of shouting FUCK at Dvalin when he was flying overhead one day)

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Hmm

Hm hm hmmmm

Who elseee, i need a characcctterrr lisstttt…

Albedo (duh, he’s albedo, you think he has an entirely too thick folder dedicated to your recent obsessions, you rant a lot about it while playing and also he can access your browsing history 👀, and he somehow doesn't know that about you?? You’re like, literally one of his long-term, there-for-life, has-bought-a-house-for-free-in-his-head-you- arent-even-on-rent-anymore, hyperfixations or special interests. Autistic!Albedo is autistic, Because I Am Your God, And I Say It Is So.)

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Dehya (always knows when its you walking around near her bc you like to listen to your old world’s songs too often when you arent pranking bitches, she actually rlly likes it and your music tastes…)

☆

HOLY FUCK SPEED RUN BC GOD THERE’S TOO MANY BITCHES WANNA BE YOUR BABY, RIDING AROUND IN A DAMN MERCEDES-

OKAY-

SO not all in the same way or at the same time, or even the same length of time did they realize you literally change background music or some shit so I’ll let you just- you know okay- like you get it- you get it.

Xiao, Kazuha, Kaeya, Diluc, Ayato, Yae Miko, Keqing, Qiqi, Klee, Sara, Kuki, Nahida, Ningguang, Rosaria, Scaramouche/Babygirl, Dainsleif, Kokomi, Xinyan, Yun Jin, Yelan.

Jfc got the whole damn pride flag up here

Anyway everybody else outta luck, at least takes em a month or longer to get it lol

♡

Sorry abt the end there i didnt feel like writing out all those bitches bc the few I did before were already longer than I thought they’d be…

Also, I am posting these spam of drafts (and that old follower 100+ event possession headcanons in prep for the next 2 weeks bc I will be really busy, again :/

Got spring break shenanigans this week, then I’ll be running around like a cat with zoomies bc im getting ready to install/actually submit my artworks for the gallery exhibition!

…wish me luck or prayers or anything good from any god you believe in, I need the strength.

With love, safe travels,

💀♒️

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist

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ashsostrange · 7 months

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i’m (not) sorry to say, but miles is better off by himself.

idk if i’ve ever written a post this long, but i got energy tonight. y’all have been sucked into the black hole of shipping, so let me ground you and remind you of this amazing thing called being single. i’m gna talk ab margo and gwen, but mostly gwen bc she’s obv miles’ (main) love interest. i’ve said more than enough about why miles and gwen don’t work/make sense. if you wna be enlightened then feel free to click the links.

thoughts on ghostflower: here!

reblogging a moot's post w/ added thoughts: hereee!

i love ranting so let’s get it! 😛

i don't have much to say about margo bc sadly, she's barely there. what i will say though is that as cute as miles and margo would be together, there’s one more movie left lol. the third movie’s gna be busy as hell. there’s literally no time for romance, and to rush miles and margo (two people who just met) into liking each other in, like, a three hour timespan would just be terrible writing. plus, we all know she’s there for some bs having to do with miles nd gwen, which is literally soooooooo very lame, words can't describe. one, where are you finding the time to cram in jealousy/all this angsty romance mess when miles’ dad is ab to die and the universe is ab to collapse bc of a nigga that looks like the lovechild of a cardboard box and a cow?? two, is this really all margo is here for?? to make gwen jealous or “help miles realize he’s in love with gwen” ?? shameeee, like summer said. 😐 i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again: margo could be SO much more than a disposable love interest!!!

gwiles/ghostflower fans, i’m going to tell you something that will make you upset. i said i was coming for you and i meant it 🗣️‼️

before you yell at me and push smoke out of your ears, i need you to put your right hand on your chest and close your eyes. you feel your heartbeat? good. now, count to three while taking deep breaths and remember that none of this shit is real so you’d look stupid af trying to attack me. 🙃 some of y’all are getting TOO comfortable being unnecessarily disrespectful and ion like that lol. don’t try it here bc i’m on another level of not gaf!

listen, even if (when?) gwen and miles team up to save his dad, it won’t change the fact that gwen was keeping some hefty info from miles, yo. she was smiling in jeff’s face and cracking jokes like she didn’t know he was bout to die. y’all gotta be so very real with yourselves. you wouldn’t wna date, let alone be FRIENDS with someone who kept something that big from you, regardless of the circumstances or lack of ill intent. one of the most important people in your life concealing the fact that you’re about to lose another important person in your life is insane.

i’m aware that gwen didn’t tell miles about his dad because she genuinely thought it’d cause mass destruction if he saved jeff. thing is, even if miles knew that, i think he’d still feel betrayed. that’s 100% valid because this is his dad we’re talking about. he just lost his uncle not too long ago, too. i wouldn’t blame miles if he never wanted anything to do with gwen again. i wouldn’t blame bro if he got sick to his stomach every time he saw her. it’d be justified, bc if he never followed her that night, then he wouldn’t have had the chance to save jeff.

my point is that you can be a “good person” and still fuck up bad enough to make someone never wna speak to you again. miles is a sweetheart so he’ll probably forgive gwen. my thing is, miles forgiving gwen doesn’t mean the two of them are obligated to be friends again. they can handle it maturely, go their separate ways, nd never speak again. it’s really not even gna hurt y’all cuz it’s the last mf movie anyway??? 😭😭

if it isn’t clear by now, i don’t want miles and gwen together at all. they have no business being around each other frl 🙃 not as friends and definitely not as lovers. like, sure, that one scene where they’re swinging/talking on the bank was my absolute fav. it was cute. i shipped them before i really thought about it. that scene is still my fav, but my adoration for it isn’t gna stop me from keeping it real.

i really don’t care what anyone says or how in love they think these two are, this isn’t a “forgive and forget” situation. if the writers truly wanted gwen and miles to be involved romantically, then not only should they have structured their dynamic better, they shouldn’t have made gwen the person she was in this movie. love, love, LOVE redemption arcs because it’s a reminder that we're human and we're flawed, but you can’t redeem yourself from that. sorry. (not) i say miles should leave that girl alone 🤷‍♀️ leave all potential girls alone ffs.

in conclusion, it’s okay for miles to be single. he's 15 anyway, it's not like he'll die without a girl. i’m the suckiest sucker for anything to do with romance, but characters in film/animation don’t need to have love interests for a project to be considered good. if you feel like it does, then maybe ts you’re watching just sucks, lmao. a girl and a boy can be friends without one having feelings for the other, or both of 'em having mutual feelings. (in the media idk ab irl..) it’s time to stop forcing ts. please.

and it’s okay y’all, i promise you. it’s okay if miles and gwen don’t end up dating. it's okay if they reconcile and stay friends. it’s okay if they reconcile and don’t stay friends. though unlikely, it’s also okay if miles doesn’t forgive gwen at all! resolutions like these go to show that you can “forgive” someone without letting them have access to you anymore. that’s what miles needs to do. straying away from the “happy ending” everyone is expecting would be nice. it’d be a different approach and a realistic way to complete the franchise. (i’m not just saying this bc i love angst)

but before the gwiles (ugly ass ship name btw) fans start throwing up and telling me to end my shit, it’s 99% unlikely that anything i just stated will actually happen. we’re more than likely getting a kiss between miles and gwen, nd that’s bc the writers are probably high off the same dope they were on when they wrote gwen sneaking in thru miles’ window, j for his parents to be way more calm about it than any other normal parent would be. i could say some more about certain scenes but that's for another night.

miles doesn’t need to be with anyone. especially not gwen when it comes down to it.

oh and i HATE peter b. fuck that nigga. he was nun but an extra in this movie and i know he’s an opp in the next. 🙎‍♀️

that’s all! if you read allat then thanks, cuz i wrote a lot. if you're feeling angry, then go for a walk. this isn’t a place for any typa criticism bc i am right, therefore, i am not requesting confirmation. 🙌 i said what i said. have a good night.

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g-kat423 · 2 months

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sound like both you and your mother are mentally ill. You call her a narcissist yet you rant about your issues online to strangers for validation as well. There are many people out there with worse disabilities than you and they are able to work and live normal lives. Instead of spending endless hours online like a loser go better yourself. The fact that you are even able to live off of your parents is a privilege and if you don’t like it find your own place. No one care about your first world problems.

Then why are you reading my blog and sending anonymous hate like a fucking pussy? Unfollow or block, it’s not that hard. Tumblr only knows what I choose to share and that’s all.its my personal blog, I’m going to talk about things that I don’t mind sharing and if you aren’t interested in my life then you don’t have to read it??? Unlike you, I have friends here who care about me. I’m actually not online for hours a day. It takes like zero effort to make a post or two, reblog things, interact with my mutuals, and then dip. The only thing that’s kept me going on tumblr consistently throughout the day has been answering messages which mostly have been nice, until you decided to show up and be a cunt because you’re clearly very insecure with your life. I can say without a doubt in my ENTIRE on and off presence on tumblr since 2009, I have never used the anonymous function to send hateful messages.

Also, unlike my mother, I have gotten treatment for my mental health, both inpatient and outpatient. I take responsibility for it and don’t lash out on other people completely unprompted. Sound familiar? Because that’s what you’re doing so you may want to check yourself before you go making ridiculously hypocritical accusations. I never denied that getting to move back home was a privilege, but I also didn’t sign up for my mother’s emotional abuse for something I had no control over. I’m also not “living off of them” I am living off of my savings which I had a decent amount of since I had a full time job that I practically dedicated my life to and worked overtime until I physically could not do it anymore. Had I never gotten sick, I’d still be in my own house with my full time job. From November of 2022 until June of 2023 I was unable to walk without crutches and then I had to get injections and a surgery to be able to walk normally again and not be in excruciating pain 24/7. I wouldn’t have been able to work during that time and then not at all during the 2 month recovery period from my surgery which has just barely passed. That was why I left my job in the first place as I would have been fired anyway due to no longer being able to perform my expected tasks.

And aren’t you all tired of the fucking sick Olympics? I thought we retired that shit in 2014. Just because someone’s problems are worse doesn’t mean that my chronic illness hasn’t completely changed my life. If other people are able to go out and work, then they actually aren’t as bad as me LOL but regardless, people who are chronically ill and disabled SHOULD NOT have to work but this country has the worst system for disability where they’re so worried that someone is going to scam them for a pitiful amount of money that they deny it for people who really need it. Feel free to let me know where this magical job is that’s going to accommodate my physical limitations, all of my appointments, my flare up days where I can’t do much of anything, and literally any job that’s still taking covid seriously, because no one is! One way masking is NOT effective, that’s how I got covid in the first place from my health care job where residents were not masking properly and I found out the hard way that I am more susceptible to illness. Everyone wants to pretend the pandemic is over and continuously infect each other with covid which only increases your risk of long covid and if nothing changes, then more and more people will be out of the workforce. Covid is still a mass disabling event, even if you were previously young and healthy like I was.

People like you who have no understanding of chronic illness and disability from your own perspective are quick to jump down someone’s throat because we’re not living up to your expectations when we are just trying to survive. There’s also the fact that my literal spine is currently trying to paralyze me. The discs in my neck are beginning to press on my spinal cord(verified via mri)I frequently lose the use of my dominant arm because of the nerves that are affected by this. That’s why I’ve been having to go in for injection procedures and I likely will end up needing a spinal surgery where I *gasp* won’t be able to work during the recovery period!! If it weren’t for having to fight with insurance companies and jump through hoops with useless conservative methods like I did with my hip, I could have my surgery scheduled by now, but I have to play their game to be able to get it at all.

People always say “I’d never wish this on my worst enemy” but I wish the absolute hell I’ve gone through on you. I hope that you experience pain so harrowing it makes your blood pressure go into hypertensive crisis levels where you’re at risk of a stroke or heart attack and that you are medically gaslit to the point where you contemplate suicide to escape the pain and unlike me, I hope that you never find doctors who will listen and that you succumb to those thoughts because the world could use less pieces of shit like you.

#anon

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blushroomx · 2 years

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i need to rant just keep scrolling

dropped out of grad school, can’t hold down a job, can’t make or keep a friend to save my life, i’m completely broke, no health insurance, my family is not reliable for support, and i have symptoms so intense it’s actually kind of embarrassing to talk about. so when someone tells me they understand what mental illness is like bc they have trauma or anxiety or whatever, but i see them living their best life, hanging out with friends all the time, graduating, accepting prestigious fellowships, their amazing support system, traveling the world, it’s just like? do you? do you get it?

it's not a competition. it's not a competition. it's not a competition it's not a competition but i'm so unbelievably, violently jealous that i am bristling like a damn cartoon character

i know it's wrong okay i know i know i know. i'm not being very compassionate or empathetic right now. someone could appear the happiest they've ever been and the next day they're not here anymore. that happens and i know it. and it's not a competition and social media is always fake anyways but i can't shake how fucking inadequate and bitter i feel when i see people getting attention and sympathy for their mental health struggles, acting like a fucking influencer giving people mental health tips and sharing their experiences while traveling europe with friends meanwhile i'm in the corner just fucking rotting. i am rotting and i get nothing from anyone. nothing. i get nothing and i'm being selfish and dumb right now but i don't care because if you haven't heard i am rotting!!! i am literally dying! i'm dying! i'm dying and nobody cares? doctors don't care unless you have money (i don't; i am currently unmedicated and have been diagnosed with bpd, bipolar ii, ptsd, and gad who knows what else honestly i haven't done much therapy, i need medication i need it and i need therapy i am going insane i am going insane i can't live like this anymore). my parents don't care as long as i'm living my life according to their expectations (which i'm not so they won't help; tell me why it makes sense to only give money to your daughter when she has a good job and not when she's having a hard time, also they don't think mental illness is real). and we won't be able to make rent this month and the bills are piling up and my partner suffers to the extent that i do and we're trying our best but what can you do when a week before rent is due you get covid? when you get a flat tire with no money to fix it? when a cop randomly decided he didn't like you and gives you a ticket he didn't have to that you absolutely can't pay? bad luck feels like a fucking stab wound when you're already hanging on by a thread. and yet i'm supposed to sit here and nod happily and accepting as someone claims they know what it's like? when they literally never have to worry about anything???? when it doesn't seem to get in the way of their lives at all?????????>

i'm just so miserable. i have always been miserable and nobody has ever helped me. every time i used to try telling my parents how depressed or suicidal i was i would get yelled at for hours until i changed my mind ("you're right dad. i was wrong, i don't really feel that way. i'm sorry"). my childhood was fucked honestly. been thinking about it a lot recently, can't get it out of my head, it's kind of fucking me up. i look in the mirror and see my father's features and it makes me sick. anyway. now i'm an adult with no skills beyond what it takes to succeed in school, except i'm so burnt out from years of suppressing and neglecting my illnesses that i can't do anything anymore. i used to be a stone; i never showed emotion because i was punished for doing so. now it's like the dam has been broken and the smallest thing sends me into an episode that takes me out for the rest of the day. and i'm not weak, i'm not! i'm not. i'm not. i push myself until i break. to the point where if i'm not shaking and crying and physically unable to stand then i consider myself a lazy weakling and a coward. sometimes i wish all my bones were broken so everyone would know that i really can't do it. i know it's not true it's just my programming but like. i just break so easily now. i break so easily and i struggle so deeply and my partner and i are actually doing better right now, we're working more but it's not enough and that gets you down. and i don't know how it ever can be enough when we're so firmly at rock bottom. i wish we had more money. it would help so much if we could pay our bills. whatever i don't actually hate people who have mental illness and good lives i just hate my own life that's all

#i'm fine #my situation is just overwhelming to the point of being surreal #it's not hopeless it just feels that way too often

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a-very-smooth-boltzmann-brain · 2 years

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Tw: rant, mental illness, contemplation of death

Why am I writing here? Because I can't do it anywhere else. Paper is too much of an effort, physically to get the pen and sit down and mentally, that'd mean thinking a little more. The essay I wrote on my problems to show the psychologist had little effect. He talked for an hour, but the wall I made was impenetrable. So almost nothing seeped through. Except for a hope that it would all change with college. And I'm taking that hope to heart. But the thing is, what I've been afraid to tell everyone and myself for so many days, that I've been wanting to die again. This time nothing comes out of it. And I want nobody to save me. For the first time I'm hoping that nobody finds this diary. But the thought hasn't solidified yet. It hovers like a cloud. Now it feels like a certainty. One day in these ons and offs. But that is the end. And nothing emerges from it. I will die unknown and unnoticed. Now I live for the sake of those around me. But their voices are diminishing into distant echoes. They never held me down anyway. In spite of everything everyone did for me, I remain indifferent. Cruel. I do not repent. That's who I am. It was all about me, and with the death of my ego, mine must rightfully follow. I might be selfish. But now the only tomorrow is the end. I have no redemption. I have no regrets. I'm happy about my appearance. I have no pain. I'm not crying. No impulse to cut or hurt myself. There is peace. And peace signifies nothing. Pure white. Colourless. I just want the end to be here as soon as possible. I'd like it to be quick. Right now I thought of a few things that I might like to live for. Found nothing. I'm not a burden. Not a curse to be lifted. I have no such negative thoughts. If I die now, I'll be dying happily. Like someone who's had all he wanted in his life. I assume I have. There the story ends, it's a happy ending. There is no reason to cling on. I will never find the freedom I seek. Nor the greatness. Two extremes, both becoming impossibilities. Constant flow of achievements may keep me up. But what then? What happens when the show is over? When the applause dies out and the audience leaves? I'll be back here again. Grasping for forms in the darkness. Finding nothing. Realising that what I stared at for so long was nothing except my empty hands. There is no other story. Running the same course, over and over. Chasing the fleeting joys and sleeping with nothing at hand. I'm not tired. I've seen the end. I've felt eternities, and this is terrible. My favourite word wasn't anything else. It always has been “terrible”. It could magnify any emotion, transmute any meaning. But now I'm using it literally. Eternity is terrible. And I've been living it for years, which, the appalling thing, is but a quarter of what's ahead. I'm forced into it. My body refuses food. My mind refuses thoughts. And I have nothing to do here. There was hope before. There is none now. Nothing but life stretching on and on like a lifeless desert. It is all over. If Camus is right, if the meaning of life is what prevents you from killing yourself, then my life has no meaning. But I can't slice my hands again. I can do nothing. I can't get caught again. At best I can hope for a death from doing nothing. But death it is. Death. Death.Death.

#death #kms

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snekdood · 2 years

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jkr, what if my trans identity came from a spiritual journey within, and not much influence from the outside?

#mood #???#what say ye terf #like i 'stopped' being trans essentially (at least my nb identity after that was also suppressed and i was seen as a girl anyways) when i #was 16 bc i had so little support from the people around me who refused to see an inch of me- though most of those folks didn't really #get to know me or know shit about me or my internal world at all so yknow. not sure how they had insight on my gender #regardless. i stopped being trans. and i was off the internet for MONTHS just having a lil spiritual experience and journey #and somehow some way inspite of all my apprehension and shame somehow i came back to the same spot #realizing im a boy. that the masculine presence in me was greater than the feminine presence #so if mere exposure to the concept of being trans is people actively pushing transness down kids throats then ig all #'autistic girls' are gonna be trans you paranoid creepy livid cunt. leave people alone to live their lives #not only was i off the internet this is around the time i got so paranoid i dropped out of school and stopped talking to everyone also #the only thing i really did online was engage in weird mixed spiritual bullshit cherry picked by new agers. id look up concepts further on #my own so picked up SOME stuff from hinduis #m already but not all of it which is pretty annoying bc new agers just kinda steal and appropriate concepts from hinduism w/o giving #due credit or acknowledging the origins and respecting those origins and that culture... obv i was ignorantly guilty of this >-> but #and its even more annoying bc a lot of the concepts stolen are incomplete without knowing plenty of other stuff from hinduism #it either doesnt work or isnt that effective bc theres so many parts missing in teachings of chakras and law of attraction etc #but anyways i could rant about that for an hour so ill save that for later lol #so i was havin my lil spiritual journey and the only thing that really brought me back to being trans was the concept of aliging #the diving feminine and masculine in me #which one naturally would interpret in a trans way if they were brave enough to admit it hsdhjs #bc you dont embrace the divine masculine within without bending the gender binary @ cis women #anyways #trans agenda is fake #if the trans agenda is real then ig go back in time and try to stop hindus from having trans gods lol #good luck bro #HONESTLY the concept of the 'trans agenda' reminds me of JQ shit considering they think jewish ppl back in time were conspiring something #idk what but something lol #ig all the ancient trans people were just part of the trans agenda smh my head

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tarosin · 3 years

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the great adventures of y/n tommy wilbur and george - the water olympics

requested:yes/no

part 9 to the great adventures series

warnings: cursing, a suicide joke (the one george made in the vlog)

you were currently sat in your bedroom editing a video for your youtube channel however someone had different plans as you heard your parents talking to someone telling them you were in your room and that they could go straight up

“Y/N ITS ME CAN I COME IN”

you laughed before getting up placing your laptop on your desk before opening your door letting your friend inside.

“what is it with people randomly showing up where I live”

“ill have you know I asked your parents”

“Pfft yeah okay Tommy sure you did. anyway I’m glad you’re here editing was beginning to make me want to throw my laptop”

“you are honestly so dramatic pass us your laptop I’ll edit for you if you let me stay the night as it’s about to rain”

“you brought a backpack with you...you clearly planned on staying the night anyway but yes it’s a deal”

Tommy laughed before sitting on your bed waiting for you to bring the laptop over and sit next to him keeping him entertained as he edits for you. it was around late afternoon when he finished editing the video and you spent the entire time telling him about your merch plans and getting the sizes and items he’s going to want as you were planning on sending him some when you’ve agreed on a final design and products

“all done I want full credit for editing”

“hey I edited like a whole 3 minutes of the video..fine fine just stop staring at me like that”

the two of you realised it was a little late and neither of you wanted to cook anything so decided to go to a local restaurant. a few hours later you arrived back home it was pretty late now so your parents had gone to bed so you had to keep reminding each other not to yell, once in your room the pair of you collapsed onto your bed, you rolled over to face Tommy

“So why are you actually here huh, what’s going on in that mind of yours”

“I know it’s short notice but tomorrow afternoon would you like to go to this inflatable water course with me will and George”

“I don’t have anything else to do so I’d be more than happy to come with you guys what time do we need to be awake, we may as well set an alarm now in case we fall asleep as I tend to sleep in really late”

“I’ve got it don’t worry about it”

Tommy set an alarm as you logged into Disney plus so you and Tommy could watch tv for a while before deciding on sleeping arrangements, you put on the good dinosaur and instantly regret that decision as you began ranting to Tommy about how the films depressing. soon enough the pair of you fell asleep.

at 9 am Tommy's alarm went off waking the pair of you up

“y/n get up we’re going to a lake”

“Okay okay I’m up”

Tommy went to the bathroom to get ready so you could get ready in your room a few minutes later you both made your way downstairs grabbing a snack you could eat whilst you waited for your taxi to arrive. the pair of you arrived at the lake first, George arrived next and that’s when you noticed Wilbur show up and George beginning to record what’s happening

“Tommy is he wearing a suit?” you tilted your head to the left as Wilbur stepped out of the car

“it worked George”

“Why are you wearing a suit?”

“for the meal”

“we’re not doing the restaurant”

your eyes widened and you tried to hide your laughter as Tommy said he couldn’t change as he only hired three wetsuits, you all made your way to get your wetsuits, Wilbur reluctantly following you all as soon as you all stepped in several people began to stare at you all

“they’re staring at me because I’m wearing a suit”

George laughed before telling him it could also be because your hair was awfully similar to a highlight. you lightly hit his shoulder before rolling your eyes

“rude”

you laughed as you went away to get changed returning a few moments later

“I’m ready boys oh they gave will a life jacket”

“Why do you sound so disappointed”

“you not a fan of drowning then?”

“no, I’m not!”

Tommy grabbed your hand and ran towards the water before jumping in taking you down with him

“TOMMY I HATE YOU”

“HELP ME”

“NO SUFFER”

soon enough will and George made it onto the inflatable, Tommy tried to film his intro however the fact you and George were jumping in the background made it rather difficult. Tommy ran to Wilbur who pushed him into the water

“HA GET FUCKED”

you made your way across but saw Tommy in the water making you laugh which made you fall in the water too

“well hello again y/n”

“Hello Tommy funny seeing you here”

George managed to help you up whilst Wilbur pretended to help Tommy up before walking away. Tommy just held onto the inflatable whilst looking at you

“fine”

you reached your hand out and helped him back up onto the inflatable.

you made your way across the bridge Wilbur not far behind you so he could push Tommy off of the bridge into the water, he did but fell with him, you fell over laughing as George went to help Wilbur but ended up falling in himself. you George and Tommy ran to a high point of the course which will wanted you all successfully defended it and even managed to push will into the water. you and George weren’t the best at this course you had fallen three times and George fell twice

“look at them both”

Tommy turned around to see you and George in the water again as the pair of you fell once back on the inflatable you both made your way back to the others however George slipped and grabbed your arm trying to stay up ultimately dragging you down with him

“When is it my turn to be happy”

you all made your way to the canopy without falling, well that was until Tommy decided to lean on it causing it to fall into the water taking Tommy with it

“bye tom”

“he’s stuck save him”

“Nah this is funny”

Wilbur ended up helping him by making it so he could actually climb onto the inflatable

“you’re embarrassing us in front of the lifeguards”

you made your way across the course this time you didn’t fall as much as you did earlier on in the day, Wilbur went to push Tommy into the water again however this time you and George decided to get payback and attempted to side tackle him so he fell into the water

“bye will”

will finally got back onto the inflatable and pulled you aside

“We should form an alliance...I wouldn’t leave you behind”

“deal”

“When I say meet you there you start running the course I'll make sure you don’t fall”

“understood let’s do this”

you got ready to go as will told Tommy and George that the truces weren’t working and there was only one way to settle it

“meet you there”

you started running across the course you were doing surprisingly well, Wilbur only had to prevent you from falling once and that was because you lost balance over one obstacle

“I've got you! keep going”

eventually, you both turned around to see that Tommy and George finally set off and were making their way to you both

“we’re team weak..strong every day of the week”

you managed to contain your laughter as George fell as soon as Tommy said that

“we’ll be team pussy”

soon enough they caught up you and will went to push Tommy into the water however George snuck up behind you both and pushed you into the water

“ah yes water my good friend we meet again”

will helped you up first then you helped him up will noticed George fell and went to push him in the water whilst you made your way to Tommy

“I call this the leg turrent”

“you plan on doing this forever heh?”

you helped George back up whilst Wilbur tackled Tommy further down the course

“oh Tommy is still on the floor”

“what have you done to him”

you made your way to Tommy with George only to hear Tommy yell about the art of deception followed by a splash and Tommy's laughter. George got up to go get the drinks but fell again then stood up slowly turning to face you all

“that was called comedy.. I'll go get the drinks kills myself”

“the hydration is good”

“ah thanks, George you see I’ve personally been spending the majority of my time in the water”

Tommy ran over to you all then fell into the water making you all laugh followed by Wilbur telling him to complete the line about how many people are and are not subscribed to his vlog channel

“When did George fall into the water”

“How are you guys feeling for a race”

“I’m down”

“right you and George are going to run that way around, y/n and I will run this way and we’ll meet at the nub we fought for”

“winner gets to launch the other of that big floppy thing”

“GO”

Tommy and George ran off before you two however you and will made it to the nub before the others, mainly because neither of you fell and worked together.

“come across Tommy we will let you have the win if you make it across that”

Tommy ran at the bridge however he fell three quarters over the bridge

“oh fucking hell”

“he tried”

you and will helped Tommy up however George ran over

“George you’re ruining the moment” Wilbur pushed him over the edge into the water

“bye again George”

“let’s go back to the nub”

“I think me and y/n technically won”

“friends?”

“friends”

Tommy decided to shake hands with will and made you go over to him so he could give you a hug you stood with will filming Tommy for the outro you waved bye to Tommy as he fell a rather long distance into the water, once will stopped recording he pushed you into the water from the same height

“WILL I'M GOING TO KILL YOU”

once you all dried off and got ready you and Tommy made your way back to yours as it was late you agreed Tommy may as well stay the night again, the pair of you spent the night playing games together and arguing about who won the game you missed spending time with just Tommy and he missed spending time with you so you were both incredibly thankful he decided to come over to yours a few days earlier than expected.

taglist:

@l0ver0fj0y @etheriaaly @xx-smiley-xx @hawarun @kylobensgirl @cawcaw-pretty-thing @reverse-iak @renleicrashed @c1loudee

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

Note

"I'm truly sorry, but I don't think we've ever met." memory loss angst? 👉👈🥺

anon... fam, this turned into an emotional rollercoaster and totally stole my braincell.

3.8k words. angst with a happy ending.

tw: memory loss, minor anxiety, repressed memories, idiots to lovers, whump, angst with a happy ending, angst with a fluffy ending

---

It’s been three hours, five minutes, and forty-two seconds since the frigid breeze whipped Geralt’s angry words at him, shattering his fragile, stupid heart to pieces. Every syllable rings through Jaskier’s head over and over, slamming into him from all directions and crippling him with a bone-deep pain far worse than anything he’s ever felt before. The ache ebbs and flows, lancing through him with every step. Not even Geralt’s first frustrated blow to his abdomen had been this terrible.

Geralt… That’s the problem, isn’t it? He hadn’t been smart enough to get out of the gorgeous Witcher’s long, silvery hair soon enough. He’d overstayed his welcome, fallen in love in the meantime, and is now very out of sorts (and also alone in unfamiliar territory). The bard laughs but it’s a hollow sound. Jaskier has reached the edge of hysteria, his intelligent blue eyes now vacant and unseeing. Even as he stumbles through the underbrush, all he can picture is the snarl on Geralt’s face as the Witcher yells at Destiny to take Jaskier off his hands.

Jaskier’s own hands are covered in sap and splinters from pushing tree branches away from his face as he traverses the darkening forest. His hair is full of debris and his clothes are torn and dirty; Geralt has all of his emergency supplies, still. Jaskier is pretty sure that his lute is still strapped over his shoulder but he realizes, with no small amount of surprise, that he doesn’t actually care.

He doesn’t have the capacity anymore.

He can’t care… caring hurts too much.

If only Destiny had taken him off Geralt’s hands. Maybe then it would be okay. Maybe then, if Geralt was well and truly free of him and his irritating presence, the Witcher could be happy. He and Yennefer will surely come back around, they always seem to, and Ciri will be joining them soon enough it seems.

There’s no need - no room - for a humble bard anymore.

Only five hours, thirty minutes, and twelve seconds after Geralt’s outburst at the top of the mountain, Jaskier’s delicate human body succumbs to the stress of the day.

He drops to the forest floor without a sound, grateful for the darkness.

---

Yennefer finds the bard in a heap a few miles away from the previous night’s elevated campsite. When she presses the back of her hand to his forehead she yanks it away almost immediately; he’s burning up, and his skin is clammy and sticky with sweat. The feathery bangs he flicks about and preens so much are stuck to his forehead and temples. He’s on the verge of shaking apart and Yennefer tosses her head imperiously, swearing.

“Damnit, Geralt. You and your incredibly foolish need to be alone all the time so you can brood and self-flagellate. Me, an ageless sorceress from one of the greatest magic schools on the Continent? I can handle a thorough tongue lashing. Fuck, I’m older than you and I’ve seen far worse but this… oh, you great lummox. You absolute bastard…” Yennefer mutters to herself as she assesses the bard’s deteriorating state of health, ranting to an invisible Geralt all the while. “You’re absolutely going to be hearing from me about this, Wolf.”

--- Three days, one hour, and fifteen minutes after Geralt dismissed him forever, Jaskier wakes up with a loud gasp and a violent shudder. He blinks slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the bright light streaming in through a window. Whatever he’s lying on is comfortable and the sheets smell fresh and bright, like lilac and freesia. A hint of gooseberry lies beneath it all, delicate and sweet. He glances around the space and finds it to be relatively bare; a guest room, perhaps. Maybe he’s a servant at some noble house?

Jaskier only really knows that his name is Jaskier and that he plays music. He’s also rather talented with floral arrangements.

Shortly after he’s finished purveying his (borrowed?) chamber, the very image of grace, beauty, and terror enters the room. The woman, whose coppery skin and enchanting violet eyes practically glow in the midafternoon sun, smiles down at him in a way that toes the line between Motherly and Shark-like.

“How are you feeling, Jaskier?”

“I’m alright. And you?”

“Just fine. Geralt really did a number on us, huh?” she asks, a playful grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. He has the feeling that something isn’t right; she shouldn’t be looking at him so kindly.

Her expression changes from friendly to horrified to confused in an instant, as soon as Jaskier manages to ask: “Who’s Geralt? And, pardon me, but I feel as if something is rather amiss. Who are you, my Lady?”

Whoever the gorgeous and terrifying woman is, she grimaces briefly. Then, as if by magic, the comforting smile returns. “I’m Yennefer, of course. I saved your life a few years ago, remember?”

Jaskier wracks his brain but cannot call the occasion to mind. “Unfortunately no, I don’t remember your no doubt heroic deed. Although I suppose that means I’m in your debt, doesn’t it? Do I work for you? Is that why I’m here?”

The woman blinks a few times, slowly, and then nods. “You’re my gardener and personal musician.”

Jaskier brightens, happy to have found himself in a safe environment.

“But you’ve had a nasty illness and your mind is clearly fatigued. Rest another day or two and then we can see about getting you back into the fresh air.”

“Thank you, my Lady,” Jaskier nods.

“Yen is fine.”

“Thank you, Yen. I don’t know where I’d be without you,” he grins.

---

Yennefer turns away to hide her pained expression. You’d probably still be with your beloved Witcher.

She makes her way to the kitchen to fix Jaskier something to eat. He must be hungry after spending three days in a deep, healing sleep. She hadn’t been expecting the amnesia, though; it was an unexpected but not unsurprising turn of events. Heartbreak had done stranger things than a little bit of fever-induced memory loss. When she’d delved briefly into his mind she hadn’t seen any sign of Geralt. His face was absent from the bard’s consciousness; she would have needed to dig to unearth those memories. Whatever the Witcher had done was grievous, especially if Jaskier’s mind compensated with something as dramatic as burying Geralt completely to save itself from further harm.

No matter, she decides, the bard can stay here as long as he likes. It’s the least I can do for all the upset Geralt and I have caused him. Where is that idiot Witcher, anyway?

The sorceress quickly clears her agenda and her mind before returning to her guest room with a large tray of food, a bottle of Toussainti red under her arm. “Jaskier, darling, let’s get your convalescence started in style!”

---

2 months later

---

Jaskier watches a strange man ride up the long path to Yennefer’s manor, the hilts of his twin swords glinting in the sun where they’re slung over his shoulder. He has long white hair and the most devastating jawline the bard/gardener (or ‘bardener’ as he says to irritate his darling employer) has ever laid eyes on. He’s clad all in black, from his plain linen shirt to his tight leather trousers; Jaskier thinks he’d also look rather lovely in dark blue or perhaps forest green.

In front of him, wrapped securely against his chest by one strong arm, sits a little girl with ashen hair and frightened eyes. Haunted eyes. Jaskier’s mind fills with ballads, some familiar and some oddly dreamlike, their lyrics half-obscured and hazy. Ciri, he thinks for no reason. Her name is Ciri. And she is a Princess.

The brunette scurries from the garden alongside the house to the kitchen, searching for the familiar cloud of Yennefer’s strong perfume. “My Lady?”

“Darling?” the sorceress replies, coming around the corner. She raises her perfectly maintained eyebrows and her lips quirk up into a smirk. “Did you sprint all the way from the west lawn?”

“There’s a- strange man- on the- drive!” he huffs. “White hair- horse!”

“Oh,” her eyes go wide with surprise. Then, in a split second, they narrow to slits. “Oh.”

“Do you, uhm, know him?” Jaskier asks, twiddling his fingers. “He’s rather handsome, Yen. Is he a former lover?”

“Unfortunately,” she growls. “I can’t believe it’s taken him two fucking months to get here. He’d better have a damned good excuse.”

By now Jaskier can breathe normally again and he straightens up, shaking his long, shaggy hair from his eyes. “He had a child with him. She looked scared, Yen.”

“Cirilla!”

Yennefer dashes for the front door and Jaskier follows instinctually. They’re always together and he can’t bear to let her confront this man alone. He’s spent every waking moment with Yen since he awoke that first day and she has grown to be his dearest friend; he’ll protect her even unto death. “Yenna, what’s wrong? Who is he!?”

“Geralt of Rivia,” she snarls. The name seems familiar; maybe from a ballad or story? Perhaps Yen has mentioned him before?

“What about Geralt of Rivia?” a low, rumbling bass asks from the front hallway. Jaskier and Yennefer arrive in the doorway together and the man, Geralt apparently, takes a shaky step back. He recoils a bit, as if he’s been slapped, and Yennefer’s smile grows cruel. His voice, still incredibly low but now with a slight tremor to it, stutters out; “Wha- Yen, what is he- Jaskier? I only came to ask for help with Ciri, I didn’t know- I didn’t-”

Geralt’s stammered speech tapers off into silence and Yennefer’s brow furrows a second time. When the sorceress sets eyes on the child, who cannot be more than twelve years old, her expression softens again. Jaskier watches the most imposing woman in the world kneel, taking one small, pale hand in both of her own. “My name is Yennever of Vengerberg, former Sorceress of Aretuza. I am honored to meet you, Princess Cirilla. Geralt has come seeking protection, no doubt, and it is easily granted. I will do everything I can to help you.”

“Thank you, Lady Yennefer. And, uhm… Ciri’s fine,” the girl replies. Her voice is high and reedy, shot through with anxiety. She’s so young, Jaskier frowns. And yet she seems to have weathered an incredible storm.

“Ciri,” the bard bows from the doorway, low and dramatic. He sweeps his arm out to the side and bends his knees as awkwardly as possible, “I am Jaskier, private troubadour and gardener extraordinaire, under the employ of the magnanimous and dangerous Lady Yennefer, here. It is my greatest honor to make your very mighty and very royal acquaintance.”

“You’re silly, Master Jaskier,” the child giggles, hiding her mouth behind her hands. Geralt’s eyes grow wide and dart between Jaskier and the girl. Yennefer makes meaningful eye contact before nodding toward the door. Jaskier looks down at Ciri again when she asks: “Do you grow lots of flowers in Lady Yennefer’s garden, or just herbs and things for magic?”

“I grow lots of things all over the property,” the brunette man steps forward and offers Ciri his hand, gesturing towards the front door with the other. “Would you like to come and take a look? I know all the scientific names, you can even quiz me if you like.”

“I know some,” she smiles shyly, accepting the offered hand. “May I go take a look at the gardens, Geralt?”

“Go ahead,” the Witcher nods dumbly. “Jaskier will take good care of you.”

“That I will. Now, let’s take a look at the flowers and let these silly adults have a chat,” Jaskier grins. He winks at Yennefer and disappears out the door, exiled Princess in tow.

The two lively companions have toured through all the medicinal herbs and are halfway through Yennefer’s large collection of rose variations when the two other members of the party approach. Geralt looks sheepish, his eyes downcast. Yennefer looks triumphant; she is radiant in her victory as always.

Geralt steps forward, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Jaskier, I’ve come to apologize for what happened when we parted.”

“Excuse me?” the bard chuckles, raising an eyebrow. "I don’t know what you’re apologizing for, exactly.”

“When I yelled at you after the dragon hunt. It was only two months ago, Jaskier, surely you remember?”

Jaskier blushes, glancing anxiously between Geralt and his friend, whose violet eyes are stormy with emotion, “I'm truly sorry, but I don't think we've ever met."

Geralt gasps sharply and takes a step back, as he did in the entryway. Jaskier winces, seemingly on instinct, and shies away from the larger man. “You don’t remember me?”

“No…” Jaskier sighs. “I really don't. Should I?”

“You don’t… You don’t even remember Toss a Coin?”

“Oh, that ditty from town?” Jaskier perks up. “I know that song! It always gets stuck in my head.”

“You… You wrote that song,” Geralt’s face crumples. “About our first adventure together outside of Posada. With the elves and the sylvan...”

“I’ve never been to Posada,” Jaskier laughs, waving his hand dismissively. “They hate bards. They prefer troupes of traveling play-actors. Posada is far too serious for my tastes.”

Geralt seems to be in agony. His chest rises and falls unevenly, as if he’s on the verge of tears but unable to shed them. Can Witchers cry?

How does he know that Geralt is a Witcher? Is it the two swords, the scars, or the strange eyes? How does he know that those are common Witcher traits?

His stomach lurches and he turns away from the group in case he needs to be sick. The ground spins and shivers in little ripples around him, unstable and impermanent beneath his feet. Yennefer is calling his name from somewhere far away and a pair of warm, strong arms are looped around his waist. Still, he can’t seem to breathe. Or focus.

There’s something missing.

He starts to hum, trying to remember the words of that damned song.

The rest of the world fades in and out around him, finally disappearing altogether.

---

He’s gorgeous.

Jaskier shoves another roll into his pocket. His eyes are focused on the man in the corner. He has long, snow-white hair and his shoulders are hunched forward protectively, as if he can hold the world out by sitting by himself. He’s glaring the table into submission, one fist clenched around his tankard.

I want to write him a thousand ballads. I want to know what his hair looks like when he wakes up in the morning, before he brushes it out again. I want to know if he snores. I want… he stops himself.

He makes his way across the room with eyes only for the stranger. “I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood.”

The man looks away and Jaskier notices that his irises are gold. “I’m here to drink alone.”

Gods, his fucking voice… Velvet and gravel all at once. Melitele, does Jaskier want. “Good, yeah. Good. No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance… except for you.”

The man, the Witcher, Jaskier realizes, rolls his eyes.

“Come on,” he wheedles, sitting down across from the gorgeous stranger. “You don’t want to keep a man with bread in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me, three words or less.”

The man’s face stays stoic, expressionless. “They don’t exist.”

He realizes shortly thereafter that this man is not just any Witcher but the infamous Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia. He could try to disengage himself from such a daunting character; he could easily make some kind of excuse and disappear back to the troubadour’s path, heading towards civilization, but it’s already too late. He doesn’t want to leave Geralt’s side ever again; he wants to write all those ballads he was thinking about earlier, when he glanced across the room.

Jaskier has fallen head over heels in love. ---

Geralt cradles Jaskier against his chest and presses his nose deep into those chestnut brown waves. “Wake up, Jaskier. Come back to me, bard, it’s been too long.”

“Don’t you usually go all winter without seeing him?” Yennefer asks from the doorway.

“It’s hell,” he replies easily. There’s no point in hiding his feelings from her. “I miss him every minute of every day.”

“Verbose this evening,” she remarks, taking a seat by the fire. “He’s dreaming, you know. He’s remembering you.”

“He’d forgotten?”

“He’d repressed it all,” she shrugs. “When I found him that day, feverish and nearly dead on the side of that godsforsaken mountain, he was barely coherent enough to open his eyes. He just kept asking for you, Geralt. Over and over he called for you, reaching his arms up, weak as they were. Gods, it was pitiful to watch.”

Geralt swallows.

“I thought you were going to come back sooner. I was surprised when his memories didn’t resurface after two or three weeks. Short-term memory loss after a fever isn’t uncommon but repressing twenty years worth of feelings and experiences-” she whistles lowly “-it was impressive and tragic, all at once.”

“He forgot me?”

“Entirely.”

Geralt glances down, shame-faced. He adjusts Jaskier in his arms, holding him close and pillowing the bard’s head against his shoulder. “I deserve it, Yen.”

“He’s remembering now, though. He’ll probably be a little less than pleased to see you when he wakes up, but he knows who you are.”

“When will he wake?”

“Can’t say,” she shrugs again. “After I brought him back from the mountain it took three days for him to wake up. The first day was magically induced but after that it was just him… exhausted and heartbroken to the point of self-induced amnesia.”

“Fuck, Yen,” Geralt groaned, pressing his forehead into the soft warmth of Jaskier’s cheek. “How can I make it up to him?”

“Stay.”

“Hmm?”

“When he wakes up and he’s angry and upset, stay. Don’t stomp off or blow up or freak out,” she instructs. “If he asks you to leave, go, but otherwise… prove yourself, Geralt of Rivia. You wanted to be a knight once, didn’t you? Now’s your chance to play Prince Charming. Get down on your lovely knees and beg and apologize.”

“Hmm. How’s Ciri?”

“Fed, bathed, and put to bed. I’ll take care of her for as long as it takes you two morons to make nice again. Good luck, Geralt, I’m sure he’ll forgive you too easily for my tastes.”

She stands from her seat and leaves just as efficiently as she entered, carefully closing the door behind her. Geralt lays Jaskier back on the bed and takes a seat beside him on the mattress, kneeling just within touching distance, should Jaskier reach out for reassurance in his sleep. Geralt closes his eyes and slips easily into meditation.

The Witcher is pulled from his trance a few hours later when Jaskier makes a startled sound and tries to sit up. Geralt opens his eyes and splays one warm, broad hand against Jaskier’s chest, forcing him back against the goose down pillows. “Stay still, Jaskier. You’re feverish and weak.”

“I’m still dreaming,” the bard grumbles, reaching to rub at his eyes with the heels of his hands. It’s adorable and Geralt grins widely, warmth spilling into his chest from some newly discovered fount of happiness. “You’re being too nice to me, Witcher.”

“I’m so sorry, Jaskier, for everything.”

“What’s everything, Geralt?”

“I’m sorry for pushing you away when I was angry and confused instead of communicating with you. I’m sorry for hurting you with my brash words and foolish actions; you have always deserved so much better and I’m so afraid that I can never give that to you. I take the wrong step at every turn, it seems, and yet you stay by my side. I didn’t want to risk hurting you the way I’ve already hurt Yen and Ciri, by tying us together against your will.”

“Darling Geralt,” the bard sighs. The Witcher scoots slightly closer and Jaskier lays a gentle hand atop his thigh. “It has always been my greatest pleasure to travel the Path with you and write of our adventures. I appreciate your concern for my agency and wellbeing, dear heart, but I am quite happy spending my entire human life in your presence.”

“Hmm,” the Witcher frowns. “You’re going to die someday.”

“And? So are you. So shall Yennefer, maybe.”

“Not likely,” Geralt jokes. Jaskier grins and the sight of it is so heartwarming that the Witcher wishes he could break down into tears. At least then Jaskier could see just how deeply his feelings ran. “I’m sorry, Jaskier, for blaming you for things that I brought upon myself. I love you dearly, and I hope that someday you can choose to travel with me again.”

“Excuse me?”

“I hope that you’ll-”

“No, the other bit.”

“I love you?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Oh. Yes, I-” Geralt clears his throat and looks Jaskier in the eyes, gold and blue locked together, “I love you very much, Jaskier.”

“Fuck.”

“May I kiss you, Jaskier?”

“Yes,” the bard breathes.

And then Geralt is lifting him up into his lap, one hand cradling Jaskier’s skull so so fucking carefully. Geralt’s other arm supports his waist, holding him steady. Their lips come together softly, carefully, and Jaskier’s soul spirals up to the ceiling with joy, his body abandoned. He is merely a vessel for the happiness that comes with kissing his Witcher. When they pull apart, both men are grinning like fools. “Oh, dear heart.”

“Yes, my love?”

“Never stop calling me that.”

“I swear I won’t, my love.”

From downstairs, Geralt hears Yennefer mutter, “Fucking finally.”

It takes twenty-two years, seven months, and one day, but Geralt and Jaskier manage to figure things out.

#bounceacoinoffyouranons #geraskier #amnesia #amensiac jaskier #memory loss #rare species fix it #the witcher netflix #the witcher ficlet #geraskier fluff #angst with a happy ending #fluff and angst #whump with a happy ending #jaskier whump #yennefer #yen and jaskier are bitchy theatre bffs #and you can't stop me #anon you really got me fucked up

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wordsfromthesol · 3 years

Text

The Interview

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: @zphilophobiaz @malfoys-demigod @pricetagofficial Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Summary: Your name slips in one of Dick Grayson's interviews and creates issues in every aspect of your life. Word Count: 1.2k

Part Two

"So I'm joined here with Richard Grayson, the eldest son of billionaire Bruce Wayne. And really there is just one question on everyone's mind. Where were you during his charity event this past weekend? You certainly weren't there, and Wayne enterprises had no recollection of a business trip. Have you had a falling out with your father?"

"Please, call me Dick. And I didn't know I would be bombarded with conspiracy theories this early in the morning." Dick was attempting to buy himself as much time as possible to formulate a lie. "Unfortunately, the real answer is much less superfluous. Y/N was quite ill, so I thought my time was best spent tending to her." Why your name popped in his head, he still wasn't sure.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Is your girlfriend doing better now?" The interviewer didn't know exactly who this "Y/N" person that Dick referred to was, but they were determined to find out.

"Yes yes, she's as good as new." Dick didn't bother correcting your assumed status. It was just one short interview on the morning gossip channel. What more could come of it? Or so he thought...

You always ran late on Monday mornings and today was no different. Racing through the office corridor, you didn't even notice the obvious stares from coworkers. Almost as soon as you sat down at your desk your coworker Josh darted towards you.

"Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N. WHY WOULD YOU NOT TELL ME?!"

"Uh…you're going to have to be a bit more specific." Your eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Dick Grayson?!" Josh exclaimed the name as if something should be obvious.

"Okay…not very helpful. We've been friends for years? You knew this. Did something happen to him?" You were still utterly confused about his sudden outburst.

"Friends" he scoffed at the apathetic use of the word before pulling out his phone. Within seconds you were watching the interview clip from this morning's talk show.

"Heh, right. About that…can you just give me a minute?" Your voice unconsciously went up several octaves as you stuttered out the sentence. Josh glared at you with a suspicious look in his eyes as you scurried off to the bathroom. Anger bubbled up inside you as you made sure the bathroom was clear before punching Dick's number into your phone.

"Y/N, what's up?" Dick's casual greeting was the last straw.

"Are you KIDDING me?! WHAT'S UP?!" The exasperated words poured out of you.

"Heh…you uh saw the interview then." He quickly learned his mistake after the interview clip accumulated hundreds of thousands of views in a matter of hours.

"Want to explain further, please. I'd like to know why I'm involved in this lie. Which will be heard by millions of people." A sour taste lingered in your mouth as you waited for his response.

"It's no big deal really. I just kinda needed an alibi. For why I wasn't at dear old dad's latest soiree."

"Alibi? I'm sorry is my best friend a criminal now?"

"What? No. Don't be ridiculous." Dick tried to console you, but he was met with silence. You refused to budge on this matter, you needed a proper explanation. Dick finally let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine alright. I'll explain tonight. I can't talk about this over the phone."

"Seriously Dick, if you go to prison, I'm not waiting for you." Normally the quip would have been a joke, but at this point even you were unsure.

You took a moment to compose yourself before stepping out of the bathroom. Instead of walking back to your desk you immediately went towards your supervisor's office. There was no way you could get through the workday now; the barrage of questions would never cease.

Feigning a cough, you slowly entered their office. "I'm not feeling very *cough* well. I think it's *cough* best if I head home." There was no way your rouse was fooling them, but thankfully they let you go home anyways. If only you made it that far.

You woke up in a shitty motel room, arms tied to the headboard. "Aye Boss! The bitch is awake!" You heard the scream resonate through your mind as you blinked past the confusion.

"Finally," a brutish man plodded into the room. "You're that Wayne kid's girl. Right?" Though he phrased it as a question, he didn't wait for an answer. "Time to call the rich brat. You're gunna fetch me a pretty penny." A sordid smile graced across his lips as he grabbed your phone from the counter. It didn't take long for the device to start ringing, Dick's photo flashing across the screen.

"Y/N/N, I told you, we will talk tonight. I need sleep." You could hear the sleep deprivation in his voice.

"Oh dear boy, unfortunately, this is not your Y/N/N."

Dick's tone immediately changed into one you had not heard before, one laced with fury and panic. "Is she safe? What do you want?"

"Momentarily, and how do you put a price on human. On someone you love so dearly?" The sarcastic words fell effortlessly from your captor's lips. Like this was nothing, just a typical Monday. "Oh I know, how about 2 million."

"Let me speak to her." Had he done this before? The question rant through your mind as the gag was removed from your lips.

"Speak!" Your captor demanded.

"Dick…?" His name came out as more of a question. For some reason, you hoped he knew what was going on. Or perhaps this was all just some terrible nightmare.

"Sweetheart, just stay calm. I'm going to get you out of this. Are you hurt?"

"I…I'm fine…" you stammered out, knowing that one wrong move could make that statement obsolete.

"Alright lovebirds. That's enough. You have 2 hours to get the money." Before Dick could answer, the man hung up the phone and sauntered into the next room. "Well, looks like we got true love here fellas. The boy is gunna pay up." You heard at least 3 people howl with excitement…there goes your hope for escape.

The first hour passed by agonizingly slow and your mind began to betray you. What if he won't pay? He will right? He's been your best friend for years. Two million wasn't too much. He would pay. Even if he asked Bruce for the money…he would pay…Right? He wouldn't just leave you there at the mercy of these -- the intrusive thoughts were interrupted by an explosion emanating from the other room. A few screams and grunts later, Nightwing appeared in the doorway.

"Y/N! Thank God you're okay!" He raced over to you, tugging at the ropes securing your arms to the headboard.

"Uh…Thanks?" You said while rubbing your wrists, still confused as to why the vigilante was here in the first place. "If you don't mind, I need to go kill my best friend now."

"Really? After I just saved you?" A smug smirk formed on his face as your mind pieced together the puzzle.

"Dick?! Seriously? This is why you needed an alibi?!"

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ghost-wonder · 3 years

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Why Oliver March is My Current Top Suspect for the Leader (Even though I love him)

Buckle your seatbelts kids and get ready for my hot mess of a PH theory. I wasn’t sure where to put this and I just wanted to get my thoughts out. I’m in the last year of my media studies and production degree so I’m putting my 3 years of tears to use and have been brewing this theory since reading 85. Now let me clarify: I adore March, but the more we see, the more suspicious I become (especially with ep. 82 & 85), and while many think this may mean death or something tragic, I’ve been thinking of the possibility it’s something much bigger (Note: lots of speculation here so prepare for a lot of what if’s and I’m only using content up to ep. 85).

My thought process regarding the leader:

The leader is a rather dehumanized villainous entity. With them being anonymous and the reader not having a face to place with the actions, it’s easier for us to take the leader’s actions at face value. We are provided no means of sympathizing or empathizing with their actions and instead, our story follows characters who have been traumatized by said actions.

Therefore, to provide readers with the greatest impact, the leader would likely be a character who up until the discovery of them being the leader, the reader viewed them positively. A character already humanized. Already trusted. And this would be both in terms of how the reader views that character, as well as other characters in the story. It would leave the reader reeling, trying to figure out why such a character would be the leader.

And keep in mind: PH has used this approach with Harvey; the audience liked him for the short time he appeared before being caprisunned and we were shocked to discover his involvement in the PS. Additionally, we’ve had characters dehumanizing and humanizing with Kieran. He’s introduced as this deadly assassin who kills brutally, with the greatest death toll in the PS. But he becomes humanized through his interactions with Lauren, so much so that both the reader and Lauren forget his occupation and are provided a chilling reminder in ep. 43. However, even after those horrible events, as we learn more regarding his character in season 2, we begin to empathize with his actions and reactions (though we don’t condone them). It demonstrates a duality, a mix of light and dark, seemingly contradicting one another. Because people are complicated.

This is also why I can’t buy into the idea that Tristan or Stefan is the leader, in fact, I don’t think either one is even involved with the PS. For Tristan I think he comes off suspicious because A) he’s meant to be a red herring but B) LAUREN’S PARENTS WERE APOSTLES AND YOU CANNOT TELL ME HE DID NOT KNOW. THEY LEFT AT ODD HOURS OF THE NIGHT ALL THE TIME AND LIKELY GAVE LAUREN TO TRISTAN TO PROTECT HER FROM THAT LIFE. HE PROBABLY THINKS LAUREN IS PS. But anywho. As for Stefan, he’s already been villainized through his treatment of William. The audience doesn’t like him for this reason and is then inherently suspicious of him because they dislike him. So for me, it feels too obvious. (I have an additional theory that he was involved with the print shop shooting, assisting Lizbeth (from what’s alluded in 64 with Lauren’s parents and 68) as chief of police but that’s for another place another time.)

What we know about the leader:

- It’s a he

- Has to be part of the older generation (would have needed to be an adult about 15 years ago)

- Was a member of SD

- Knew Lauren’s parents

- According to Hecate, he is closer and more similar to Lauren than she thinks

So why March? (It’s not just the villain scar)

- His speech to Kym and Will in 60 had me SUS. It felt very contradicting (he acknowledges the flaws in the system while saying they must continue their jobs, which is valid, but his phrasing was still off to me) and generally in any mystery drama if I see a character go on a moral rant of sorts, my sus radar is dialed up to 11. Unfortunately, we don’t know how much of it was true and lies because Lauren wasn’t around but if he is the leader I’d find it so fascinating if everything he said is the truth. The idea that this terrorist does have sound morals would be SO INTERESTING and kind of fitting? The leader having a strong sense of justice or strong morals would make him more similar to Lauren as Hecate said. But more on Hecate later.

- As confirmed by 85, he knew Lauren’s parents. He even says they worked together on cases. Through their work together, did they start to realize the flaws in their system? Was there a case that was just too much? SD formed?

- The death of his daughter does kind of fit the SD timeline. (She died in xx11 the pamphlets are dated xx14 but SD was likely formed slightly before the release of the pamphlets but that's not yet really confirmed). We don’t know how her illness killed her (could be class-related. Like because of their class status perhaps they didn’t have access to the resources that could have saved his daughter? Who knows. He said they did all they could. March is likely middle class similar to Kym but we don’t know for sure. And even if he is middle class we don’t know if this was always the case, like if he was middle class at the time of his daughter’s death.)

- Additionally the death of his wife. The date is blocked and as others have theorized I find it very possible it could have been SD related. But this sentence is chilling: “She fell into the bloody hands of criminals that have been plaguing Ardhalis for too long.” March doesn’t specify these criminals as the PS. So could he mean the royals? (Literally everything he says to Lauren in ep. 85 could have a double meaning and it bugs me so much like he never specifies the criminals he’s referring to. And everything he says sounds like the monologue of a villain who sees themselves as a hero because they haven’t realized how far gone they are. But that’s just me. ) If she died in the print shop shooting could this have been the catalyst to drive March to become the leader and start the PS? Losing your daughter and wife is a lot to take and could drive anyone over the edge. Point is: if any of this speculation is true, it would give March motive for becoming the leader.

- Also March mentioned how Lauren reminds him of his daughter which could then explain why Lauren hasn’t been touched by the PS cause at this point the girl should have been caprisunned a while ago if she wasn’t being protected from the inside.

- To build on that as well, if March is the leader then he has kept an eye on Lauren since she joined the force aka since she would have become problematic for the PS (cause you can argue being the daughter of apostles may not automatically make her a threat since she was a child at the time. But being the daughter of apostles and joining the police force to take down the PS? Now that’s an issue). March says in ep. 60 that Lauren was one of his recruits meaning the leader could have had his eye on her the entirety of her time in the APD. Just something to consider.

- And going back to Hecate's words, he’s more similar to you than you think. March and Lauren share (seemingly) similar morals and additionally he is close to her just as Hecate claimed. Also if any of my speculation regarding the deaths of his wife and daughter are correct it would have put him in a similar position to Lauren, the difference being her enemy is PS and his being the royals (but also as we’re starting to see with Lauren learning more information, I think the royals are starting to become an enemy in her eyes the same way PS is. Again if any of this is correct it just furthers similarities between the two).

- This could then also be the betrayal alluded to in the cards; one of Lauren's mentors has been the leader this whole time. The betrayal is either past or future but March being the leader could count as both. He betrayed her in the past by ordering the death of her parents and may betray her again in the future as he continues to play the role of leader

- Plus this would also mean the leader has been present in the story FROM THE VERY BEGINNING MARCH WAS IN EP 2 HOW WILD WOULD IT BE IF WE’VE KNOWN THE LEADER THIS WHOLE TIME

- AND IMPORTANT NOTE: WHY IS MARCH NOT ONE OF THE PEOPLE LAUREN SUSPECTS DURING EP. 82 YET HE HAS HER BACK SIMILAR TO WILL AND KYM. "LAUREN OPEN YOUR EYES" BLINDEST OF THEM ALL TYPE STUFF. (Also with Lauren being the blindest of all, it led me to believe anyone Lauren is suspicious of, is not the one to betray her. I feel like it would have to be someone so unsuspicious, Lauren doesn’t even think of them. Which can be said of March; we literally have a whole scene in ep. 82 demonstrating how close they are and how a level of trust exists. Yet panels later, it doesn’t even cross her mind that he could betray her).

Now possible flaws in this theory (there are more I’m sure but here’s a few):

-Why voice support for lune and their actions: Lune’s actions have yet to affect the leader (at least to our knowledge) and have technically been helping the leader. The leader views Apostle 7 as an issue so obviously whoever the leader is, they won’t take issue with Lune taking down this problem for them. When first telling Lauren about McTrevor, Kieran said he was surprised he hadn’t been sent by the leader to kill him off yet. And when the 11th precinct received that first Lune letter about him, March was the one to voice that they should follow Lune’s orders. If he’s the leader, this could explain why he wanted to follow Lune’s orders and dispose of McTrevor without PS means. This is a possible explanation anyway.

- Why send moles into the 11th precinct if the leader himself is already there: I boil this down to a matter of seeming less suspicious. Like why possibly risk the exposure of your identity if your organization consists of hundreds of potential puppets who are easily disposable?

-Why place the PH in the 11th precinct if the leader is there: Okay this plays into another theory I have regarding Kieran. We know there are boatloads of parallels between Lauren and Kieran which left me thinking Kieran has had a similar Tim Sake type incident. What I mean by this is that Lauren’s whole deal with Tim Sake was heavily guided by her personal anger and resulted in distrust from her superior, Hermann. I think Kieran had a similar incident with killing that one person without orders, in which his actions were guided by his personal anger and resulted in distrust from his superior, the Leader. So we know from 83 Kierans been overseas for a while (Why? Was there a mission or did the leader need Kieran out of Ardhalis? Both?) and his comment in 64 (“I wonder how much longer his patience will last”), as well as the comments made by Bella and the messenger at various points regarding Kieran following and not following orders (ep 5 and 72-73?), further my thinking that the leader may be SUS of his best player. So what do you do with someone you’re suspicious of: you keep them right where you can see them.

- The one flaw I have yet to work out an explanation for is why order the death of lune? Regardless of who the leader is, this is a question I’ve mulled over since the end of season 1. J’en sais rien mes amis mais on verra.

Closing Thoughts:

Hopefully, this didn’t sound like the ramblings of a sleep-deprived senior (even though that’s exactly what this is haha) and hopefully, it gave you some stuff to consider. Up until this point, I never spent much time contemplating the leader, partly because I didn’t feel like we were far enough in the story to have enough evidence against one person. While much of this is speculation, I still think it’s the soundest case I have for any PH character we’ve met thus far being the leader.

#purple hyacinth #ph webtoon #lauren sinclair #oliver march #kieran white #webtoon #purple hyacinth webtoon #this is a lot #dont hate me i just cant accept nice things

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vod-ika · 4 years

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Clones; A Sociologic Rant

I’m pretty sure I could base a whole sociologic thesis off of this show I have so many thoughts this is LONG.

So the fascinating thing about clones is that over and over it’s emphasised in show that they are considered property/cannon fodder/disposable, and at the same time it’s shown that they understand that claim, and still go so far out of their way to control some kind of their own independence.

I occasionally have a hard time separating show and fanfiction (fuck canon it’s my world now) but even in show, the allusions to modern militaries, the decorating of armor, the personalisations such as accents, names, and specific groups (Domino Squad) all point to an entirely unmitigated, completely developed culture inside the Republic. So this is basically a list of things I’ve seen, wondered about, or headcanoned in TCW.

- I would just LOVE to sit down with Filoni or Lucas and a sociologist and just Talk about how, if this army was real, what all would the Kaminoan’s have programmed in their heads (mental stability, coping mechanisms, stamina, self-preservation instinct, etc,) and how would it work in real-time, on and off the battlefield. What kind of programming went on in those eight to ten developmental years that ensured that loyalty was innate, the knowledge of property was omnipresent, and that they believed they weren’t allowed to own anything? What did they do to them to make sure that they would never want to form an uprising???

- “We are only as good as our weakest link” is repeated in team events endlessly, something that can extend to both skill and health. How deeply engrained are checkups, both mental and physical? I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that day in and day out clones, regardless of rank, are able to listen to and watch brothers die and Not have that affect them.

- Were they programmed with “protect the Jedi” in mind, or was it just, “bam. here is your CO, they outrank you so you have to respect/protect them?”, and then one of them jumped off a building with no armor and their captain had a heart attack? With the whole “Jedi were peacekeepers now they’re generals” thing I feel like the Senate just took two pieces of a puzzle that don’t actually go together but fit anyways and shoved them together and now they’re just kinda staring at each other like “the fuk u doin here”

- HEALTH. IS SO. IMPORTANT. When you know that any injury severe enough or illness overlooked long enough could result in you being swiftly and carelessly replaced by someone who looks Exactly like you, how much more of an emphasis is put on health, bodily wellbeing, and injury prevention? Clones are human, and while they’re very highly trained, strong humans, they’re still human and skin is skin. (Applying real logic to a cartoon) Seeing clones in things like explosions that they potentially survive, but lose a limb or two always made me sad because, to The Republic/The GAR/ Kamino, what good is a crippled clone? To Kaminoans, their life’s purpose is over and you might as well treat them as a lame horse. Fuck Kamino.

- I just realised something. When most modern soldiers deploy, they deploy with the intent to eventually be replaced because they have served their time wherever they are, and are being replaced by a new wave of soldiers. Clones deploy with the intent to die and be replaced until the battle is won.

- When Marines or Infantrymen or Sailors ship out, they always have duffel bags or those gigantic green laundry bag stuffed with clothes and personal items. Now, we know that clones collect personal items, and assumedly have multiple pairs of blacks (or no sweat glands) but I have yet to see any kind of carrying devices other than crates and small backpacks like for small Hutt babies or explosives. Do they have to leave everything behind when they’re op-hopping to their next planet? Are there barracks left behind that hold the ghosts of personal blankets and magazine clippings? Or is there a mountain of green laundry bags just off-camera?

- Naming culture, good god. So, you’re fresh out of boot, and you’ve got your number still. You’re like, “dope. I’m CT-1234. I’m a GAR mortarman. Go time.” Then, some dickhead is like, nah you’re called Sparkles now lets go prank Gogo and Jazz. Naming is WILD, and I’m mostly drawing from fanfiction for this. Either you’re named for some major or heroic or kickass reason like Tracer or Wolffe or Fireball, or you’re named for the most mundane thing like your number ends with 22, so you’re Twos or there are checkers on your armor so now you’re Check. either way it is a personal choice that Specifically defies the number they were assigned at decanting. Even Dogma had one for fucks sake.

- Painting armor. You know that time had to be taken to sit quietly and detail on that eel, or those lines, or that decal. Did it do anything to better the Republic? Did it win any battles or save any precious Jedi? No, but it happened anyways. People like to discuss why we play video games; there’s no societal, familial, or interpersonal benefit, only benefit to the one playing. There’s no societal, familial, or interpersonal benefit to painting armor, only benefit to the one painting. Fuck Kamino.

- Vocal inflections! The places they’re deployed affecting their speech patterns! I personally have a wild mashup of regional American accents because of the time I’ve spent traipsing, so how does being deployed planet after planet affect clone speech patterns??? Who rolls their r’s and who doesn’t? Are there transfers from other battalions whose accents are indiscernible because of where they were last deployed? Or ones who just have a whole additional vocabulary of local language? I’m three states away and the Louisiana accent blows my mind. Imagine that, but a whole fucking star system away???

- LINGO. Military lingo, planetary lingo (see above), sign language etc. give me different forms of communication outside Basic, used in both the formal and informal settings. (name calling in ASL/BSL during a briefing, talking about shinies in front of their faces in a language they don’t yet understand, talking about Jedi in front of their faces in a language they don’t understand.) Clones are told all that they are is property but damn if that property isn’t going to be able to talk shit about you to your face.

- To add on... Mando’a???? Is it innate? Is it learned? Did Jango Fett personally sit every clone ever down and teach them how to say Cat and Dog and Yes and No? Does every clone know it, or only those who sought it out? Literally it’s the most impersonal personal thing. “You, a thing who was made for combat, who looks exactly like millions of others, know one language of BILLIONS in the galaxy, purely because the man whose hair we based your genetic makeup off of knows it.” like WHAT

- HELMETS. BEING. SO. VERY. PERSONAL. Everything you see, speak, hear, smell is filtered through that bucket on your head. Are HUDs customisable? Is wearing or touching someone else’s bucket a no-no? Who’s watching telenovelas on guard duty?

- Speaking OF helmets: When your waking hours are constantly covered by your bucket, how do bodily “tells” betray what your face can’t? People acclimate. How common is it to be able to read your brother’s emotions like a fucking book based purely on how squared his hip is in parade rest, or which shoulder is higher than the other at attention?

- Or even just armor. Dude, that is literally the only thing between their skin and certain death by laser bolt. You ever talked to an athlete? And how picky they are about what cleats they wear or what goggles they use, or what percentage Gatorade their water is? We’re incorrigible. Imagine that, but the choice made results in how mobile you are, or how much laser to the shoulder you can stand.

- Time is so fucking short and they all must know that. I think I’ve used the line, “the average lifespan of a clone is measured in months, not years,” and boy does that fucking hit. How do you handle life when you were made to be snuffed out by it?

To conclude, I have many thoughts about the minute details of a working army that is comprised of identical people created, raised, and sent off to die for a war they didn’t start. Sounds a little ridiculous when you say it out loud, but between the show itself, fanart, and fucking fanfiction, it’s a little hard not to attribute human nuances to the show that exemplified my childhood. I’m an adult and it is my very highly specifically adult choice to psychoanalyse this show, and you can bet I’ll throw hands with Disney at any time.

“When my creator cares not how I face death, only that it is for them, how do I use the time death allows me? Cruel is my maker to have given me eyes to see and ears to hear the world, but denied me the chance to explore it. I can only hope that those who follow see what I could not, and that eventually a painting of all the world will be born through the eyes of the many.”

#clones #clone wars #star wars #star wars the clone wars #sw:cw #sw:tcw #clone troopers #clone headcanons #I am YELLING #There is so much I could dissect #captain rex #commander cody #ikawrites

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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Carl Barks: Back to the Klondike Review: Blinkus of the Thinkus

Welcome one and all! If your a longtime reader of this blog, you know I love a good birthday celebration, having started with my first year reviewing animation last year with Donald’s and deciding to do Mickey and Scrooge’s later that year. But since I misseda LOT of disney birthdays, and found several Non-disney birthdays and anniversaries I just gotta celebrate, this year i’m making it up and style and have a whole calender set up to tack these big milestones to the wall. So over the year expect tributes to the greats of disney, looney tunes, and mgm both behind and in front of the scenes, as well as to various shows I like. It’s gonna be a good time.

So to start us off, it’s only fitting my first duck birthday since Scrooge, is for the love of his life and the stealer of his wallet, Glittering Goldie O Gilt! And I felt the best way to celebrate this storied day was to go back to her very FIRST apperance, one of earliest Scrooge headlined comics and a forever fan faviorite, Back to the Klondike!

But before we get into that, a little history on our gal in gold. Goldie was created for this story by comics god, the late great Carl Barks. Barks ended up just using her once, which is a shame but understandable as he probably only thought of her for that one adventure. While some characters like Gyro ended up being used again and again he probably just didn’t have any more stories in mind for her and figured Scrooge would return to her one day or he wouldn’t, but it wasn’t up to him. Fans however loved the character, her feisty dynamic with scrooge, and the fact she brought out his good side, so naturally other writers would bring her back. In paticular Barks Superfan Don Rosa cemented her as the love of his life and wrote several more stories with her, fleshing out their backstory and saying that at least in his personal canon, Scrooge retired to spend his final years with her. And while his fanboy was clearly showing, and that can end nasitly just ask Dan “Hates Wally West because he’s not barry allen” DiDio, glad he’s gone.. Rosa’s work with goldie is an example of what happens when it’s done right. Less DiDio or Bendis and more Al Ewing. Using the continuity and what’s there to build on a character who deserved better.. to me that’s one of the BEST things you can do in comics and Rosa’s work is proof of that, ironing out the.. questionable elements we’ll get to and leaving the gold in. So Rosa’s work combined with Ducktales not only adapting this story but bringing Goldie back a few times after that has elevated the character to a storied and permenat part of the duck canon, with her excellent heavily revamped Reboot counterpart currently carrying the torch with the help of the wonderful Allison Janey, perfect casting there. So with a legacy of gold behind her, let’s take a look at where it’s started and see if it still glitters after all these years under the cut.

We begin our story at the Money Bin. Scrooge has been counting his money.. but has already forgotten, and forgot where he put the slip he wrote the number on and even forgets who Donald is when he shows up until Donald, while having some fun with him as Scrooge is trying to phone him while he’s right there. As for how he got into the most secure place in the bin.. the story actually answers that both worringly and hilariously: Scrooge left the door unlocked. Naturally he’s not happy about this and Donald states the simple solution: Go see a doctor something’s CLEARLY very wrong, and the fact this could possibly be something like Demntia is VERY bad for someone who runs a zillion dollar company. Scrooge of course scoffs at “wasting his precious money” But Donald not only points out the obvious, that two bucks now saves him from having someone rob EVERYTHING, but Scrooge’s attempt to tie a string around his finger.. instead triggers a trap. And this entire sequence is decent with some good gags.. it’s just hampered a bit by making light of something that’s kinda bad. Not old people forgetting things.. but an old person with a disease as we find out forgetting things. Not helping is I laughed at first at the gags.. till I remembered a kind, old, friend of the family who had it and forgot me entirely by the end. So yeah, not the worst gags and the boxing glove and donald bits aren’t terrible, but it hurts now my brain’s made that connection.

Our heroes head to the doctor’s office where Scrooge is diagnosed with...

That.. might be the best name for a fictional illness i’ve ever heard in my life.. just inching out “Brain Cloud” and “Whale Cancer”. Still not the most SENSITIVE gag.. but it was the 50′s and mental issues weren’t given a lot of respect. IT’s why the above sequence and this whole part of the plot dosen’t scuttle things: It’s not the most repsectful.. but it wasn’t a time where these things were givne proper respect, treatment or knowledge, so barks wasn’t being an insentive douche on purpose, he just didn’t know. It dosen’t make it 100% okay btu it dosen’t wreck the story like say his blatant racist caractures in Voodoo Hoodoo. Seriously that’s.. not okay, and given he’s the kind of guy who researched locations he used, unlike with mental illness i expect BETTER of him than most men at the time. Still respect the guy, but it dosen’t mean i’ll overlook the fact he made some pretty bad mistakes. Same way while I love and miss Stan Lee I won’t ignore his blatant sexisim or racisim towards Chinese and Vitamise people. You CAN like a creator even if their work has some questionable and unjustifable elements, times do change and people do mamke mistakes when their young. It just depends on exactly WHAT they did or wrote that makes that distinctoin. So on that bombshell, Scrooge is given medication after a needle gag. He needs to take his pills every 12 hours. It’s then he starts to remember something, mubling abotu skagway, goldie and dawson and telling Donald to get the boys, their going to Alaska! Once they get on the boat Scrooge explains: he remembered thanks to the medcince he left a stash of gold nuggets there from his prospecting days.. and part of why this story ended up being one of the single most important to Scrooge’s character. While it establishes some character traits, something I dind’t realize till wikipedia pointed it out, it also establishes Scrooge’s days as a prospector. While other things made him what he was and got him to that point as Don Rosa would later flesh out, it was his days in the yukon that, for better or worse defined who he is now and shaped him into the man he is today: Tough, fair, badass as all hell, mean as the devil and richer than god. This time would be used a lot to set up stories, which made sense as it was the cleast and most agreed upon part of his past by all writers, and him at his abosltuely peak physically and mentally and the gold rush motif of the time perfectly fits someone defined by being rich. It’s also honestly nice that the Yukon is used, as Canada sometimes gets lost in the shuffle wise and hell until reading life and times I gneuinely had no idea what the Yukon was or where Calvin was headed when he and hobbes ran away from home.

Scrooge also first mentions Goldie and while clearly remembering her fondly.. goes into a rant about her howing him a thousand dollars which has compounded to a billion the second the boys catch on he was sweet on her with Donald assuming he’s just not a good person. But this is really just setting up another vital part of his character and the other thing: his heart. Before he’d been show as a pretty heartless, greedy asshole. While the previous story, Only a Poor Old Man, had softened him up a bit, this is the first to show that beneath the pile of greed and mean lurks a decent human being. Just don’t tell anyone or he’ll throw his money at you.. then tell you to bring it back to him. It’s what makes the character who he is: he’s cruel, onrey and selfish.. but he CAN care when the chips are down and can do the right thing.. as we’ll see later.

God I love the little poems Bill Watterson would put in the books. I didn’t as much as a kid, but god I do now. Anyways before our heroes can get going Yukon Ho, they stop in Skagway for suplies before heading out, Scrooge softing at taking a plane as “Soft” and him and the nephews hiking a week.. before running into the same flying service again, and finding out Scrooge OWNS it and forgot, because being scrooge he forgot to take his meds. Something I can relate to and i’m not proud of as staying on them is important to my well being. Seriously always take your meds. Unless their not working for you then talk with your doctor to get new ones.

So we arrive in Dawson, as our heroes will have to walk rest of the day Scrooge takes the boys to the Black Jack Ballroom, which used to be a hot spot and was where he met Goldie for the first time. After another covering for his reminscing with greedy bollocks, he tells the boys the story.. one that was cut from the original printing despite introducing goldie and something the editors dind’t bother to tell carl till they berated him over trying to sneak a blackjack saloon and a kidnapping in there... and to them, or their long dead skeletons probably, I say.

Yeah not wanting that in a kids story, while bollocks, tha’ts their perogative.. not having him send in replacement pages to keep story flow.. is dickish and underestimates kids intellegence as Don Rosa, while loving the story felt something was off till he saw the missing pages years later thanks to a fellow fan. So yeah kids, and adults, into the work noticed. Nice job. Again I can’t BLAME them for not wanting Scrooge to be a kidnapper as we’ll see and Don Rosa had to massage the hell out of that, but I can blame them for not caring enough to fix the obvious hole int he story. Though it’s now complete and unabriged and has been since the 80′s so there's that.

So in a nutshell Scrooge came to town for a coffee, and while the bartender ignored him he didn’t once he plunked down his goose egg nugget, what made his fortune and one of Scrooge’s most treasured possessions. It’s here we meet Goldie.

Yup.. just in case you thought her being a thief and greedy as hell was a new thing, and I kinda forgot how much, she dirves for the nugget, has Coffee with scrooge.. and drugs it, but makes the mistake of NOT clearing town, so Scrooge fights his way through the ballroom to her, gets the nugget back, forces her to sign the money for the iou he spent.. and then uh.. kindaps her to force her to work on his claim for 50 cents to try and teach her how to work honestly.

Yeahhhh as I said Don Rosa tried his best to fix this , and did so in his final story, which we’ll get to some day, revealing Goldie had a shot gun on her the whole time and was going along entirely to find out where Scrooge’s claim was. That.. actually makes more sense with the character and is far less horrifying and Scrooge finds this out fairly quick, so them forming an attraction out of this becomes 100% more plausable. So yeah good on Don Rosa for fixing the implications here. I may give out on him from time to time.. but he is a genuinely talented writer and did what a good comic book writer in an established continuity should do: update elements so they aren’t so... eugguuhhh after they become horrifingly outdated. And look YES she did do horrible shit to him.. but you still can’t kidnap someone over that. just put her in jail. What was any of that.

Anyways Scrooge HAS been taking his medicine, and proves it by showing the boys his pills and the next day they head to Scrooge’s old claim.. only someone’s living there and using it, and his old cabin.. and a shot gun. Yeah so they aren’t getting through in the day what about the night.. well they get attacked by Blackjack, who turns out to be owned by the claim jumper.. and is also you know a bear> And Donald left his back in new quackmore so their outmatched.

So outgunned and outplanned, if not outnumbered or outmanned, our heroes make a camp fire and whiel Donald again suggests the obvious, call the police.. Scrooge can’t. He didn’t pay taxes on the claim so he’s technically jumping his own claim and techincally she has a right to it. So techncially.. Scrooge is the bad guy here as he left the money here, didn’t pay his taxes and didn’t ever come back for it. Still beats trying to terrify your nephews or deny orphans a train because your an asshole buffet.

So the next morning Scrooge dosen’t want to rush her because “We Daren’t Get Rough with an old woman”. Two things.. 1... think before you put images in my head scrooge.. brrrrrrrrr. I mean Goldie. is not in the best shape in thie story as you’ll see and neither are you. In the reboot sure you two kept up a lot better but here.

And it’s not even an old people thing. Ann Margret was still fine so fine by the time of Grumpy Old Men, not to get creepy jut to prove i’m not being ageist. For a still alive example Keith David is also still a smokeshow at the tender age of 64. So yeah, not an age thing just not these paticular old people.

But they need a plan so the boy suggest luring the bear into a trap with honey. Donald and Scrooge build the cage while the boys.. find the jar of honey.

Regardless since the boys won’t do it for what Scrooge pays and neither will donald Scrooge goes to lure the bear with the honey. Once that’s done, and Scrooge is being covered with honey and licked by a bear...

So while he washes that off, the boys come up with another plan: they run around back while Donald makes noise to draw Goldie’s fire, with that being Dewey’s plan to meet her since he’s figured this out already. But Goldie has a backup plan and when she figures out they disabled Blackjack unleashes mosquitos... ugh. Having been stung like hornets about 50 times in animal crossing I feel you boys. So while Scrooge and Donald run off naked... troy if you will.

Thank you Troy, the boys confront Goldie who reveals her identity... and that she’s broke, her dance hall having failed with the rush and this claim being all she has.. and her suspecting scrooge woudl gladly take it. The boys vow not to tell scrooge.. but he’s on his way so they kinda have to and he primps to go visit and Donald starts to see through his BS about collecting the debt. Sure enough despite being taken aback by her putting on her old dress , he takes her for all she has and is.. genuinely suprised as she thought she’d have more and she’d actually changed since the old days, donating her profits to orphans from mining disasters. Scrooge.. is clearly rattled by this. Whiel it turns out to my shock he was clealry after the money, though givne who we’re dealing with I shoudln’t of been really, he still cares and still realizes he’s being kind of a dick. So he challengers her to a gold digging race, and if she wins the claim is hers and any gold she finds.. and naturally, while he seemingly puts her soemwhere where there isn’t she finds the claim and Scrooge bemoans not taking his pill.. but while the boys boo him for it, Goldie who fondly waves them off and Donald know better: Donald points out he counted the pills this morning.. and recently. SCrooge DID take one today... he’s just has his cane shoved firmly up his ass with pride so he coudln’t ADMIT he was wrong and instead simply staged that whole thing with the full knowledge Goldie would win. It, again, sets up one of his defniing traits; how he keeps people at arms length. How he’s just so proud and full of himself he can’t bear to admit anything resembling weakness.. but WILl find a way to do the right thing without that or forgoe it as a last resort. He may project being a stingy cretionus old man.. because he is.. but he’s got a heart as big as that nugget.. it’s just locked tight in it’s own bin... his body is complicated and weird that way Final Thoughts:

This story is a classic with a decent setup, great backstory for scrooge, and a great guest character and unquestionable impact on the character. However.. it does have it’s problem; As Don Rosa, who as i’ll remind you is both a huge barks fanboy and huge scoldie shipper, himself pointed out he wrote his final story, and had planned to for years ENTIRELY because this one never quite explains how Scrooge and Goldie went from old enmies to lovers.It did lead to one of his best stories and one of the first I read post life and times so, props to that. And of course as I pointed out some things have just.. not aged well, especially the kidnapping so their relationship kinda comes off like stockholm syndrom as a result of both of these.

That being said.. warts and all.. it’s still a really damn good story and a good one to try if your intrested in barks work or where Goldie came from: it has adventure, some really good jokes and if you can get past the dated bits the plot is solid. And while it goes without saying i’ll say it anyway Barks art is goregous as always ESPECIALLY in the flashback sequence. Overall not the best AGED Scrooge story, though not the worst either see Voodoo Hoodoo, good god, but defintely a classic for a reason. If you liked this review, follow me for more, and for more duck content as I still have more of the three cablleros to work through, another chapter of life and times coming up this week befor ewe break again for feburary, and some other fun stuff. Until the next rainbow, it’s been a pleasure.

#carl barks #scrooge mcduck #uncle scrooge #donald duck #huey duck #louie duck #dewey duck #glittering goldie #goldie o gilt #scoldie #back to the klondike #blackjack #comics #disney #ducktales

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goldeneyedgirl · 3 years

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mcu xover: jar of hearts 3/?

Oh yes, my MCU x Twilight crossover is still happening.

And this chapter may even reference the MCU directly. SHOCKING.

Seriously, I’m so sorry this took so long. I’ve been writing a lot, across a lot of different fics and this one slid to the back of the queue. Also, I wrote myself into a corner and needed to get out again.

And yes, we’re inching closer to joining up the MCU. These things take time, but it’ll happen.

part two here

roadtrip.

They’re almost in Arizona when Charlie calls to find out where the fuck Seth Clearwater is, because apparently he’s been tangling up his story all over town - he’s told anyone on the Res who asks that he’s staying with Charlie. He’s told Charlie that he’s staying with Colin or Brady.

Alice scowls at Seth through the rearview mirror and begins to weave a tale of being told Seth had permission to join them to go see their cousins - in between lecturing Seth about setting them up for a kidnapping charge across state lines.

By the end of the conversation, Charlie’s trying not to snigger at Alice’s increasingly indignant rant at Seth, at law breaking in general, and at fucking son-of-a-bitch moron drivers, sweet Jesus. Emmett and Seth are howling at Alice’s cussing and even Charlie is a little bit shocked at her language (later, when the boys are picking on her about it, she rolls her eyes, looks over the top of her heart-shaped sunglasses, and reminds them both - quite primly - that she married a goddamned soldier.)

Seth’s favourite part of the whole ordeal is that Alice isn’t even driving.

But Charlie clears Seth accompanying them, so that’s one less problem. Of course, it means his Jeep stinks of human food, and that they have to stop, but they still make good time up to Alaska.

It’s a hard drive to make - closer to the cities and urban, abandoned cars have been moved off the road. But in the rural areas, cars are still scattered, seemingly abandoned or crashed. Most of the bodies have been removed, thankfully. But still, only most. And it’s been weeks - months - since it happened, so those bodies aren’t in good condition.

And not all of them are adults.

They start out burying the people they find (well, Emmett and Alice do - they both insist Seth stay in the damn car), but then only the children.

Then they just stop because they are both tired of handling rotting bodies who never should have died, let alone forgotten on the side of a long, empty stretch of highway. The graves they’ve already dug haven’t got markers or anything. Just a hole on the side of the road.

It doesn’t feel like enough.

The house in Denali feels wrong before they even get out of the car. The house has always had a sense of otherness, thanks to the fact that it’s the permanent residence of immortals. But right now, it feels more forgotten, lesser in a way.

Tanya’s walking out the front door the second the car pulls up, and she looks old. Tired and strained, and she walks straight into the hug Alice offers.

Seth gapes at the house - the enormous glass-and-wood lodge, tucked carefully in the wilderness where it is mostly forgotten. It might be on a map somewhere, might be noted down in some database, but it is mostly overlooked, a sanctuary in the middle of nowhere.

There’s not really much for them to say or do in Alaska, Emmett realises; Carmen and Tanya are more than capable enough to manage on their own.

Except… Carmen looks like a ghost. She looks disorientated and disinterested, and there’s a part of Emmett that is cold and dead that is perversely fascinated with all the different ways there are to fall apart after the loss of a mate. He’s walking around like a hollowed-out old man, Alice is… not quite there, a little unbalanced.

Sometimes he wonders if Rosalie should have stayed, should have taken his place instead. He would have given it to her, without question. Rose only deserved good things, easy things.

But then he wonders. If living through it all really was easy or good. It doesn’t feel like it, most days. It’s a heavy weight in his chest and a constant feeling of leaving something behind (he’s got one of her hair ties around his wrist; it’s dumb but he always had one on him just in case - at school, when they went hunting, everywhere; he’s also got one of her shirts in his bag. It won’t smell right, being crammed in with his stuff, but he brought it anyway).

Rose wouldn’t have been happy in this world. She wouldn’t have known what to do with Alice or Seth. She would have been angry at the disruption to her life. She would have been afraid and lonely and lashed out at everyone.

No, not good and easy at all.

Then he wonders how Jasper would have faired, without Alice, and that is a grim, grizzly train of thought. Thanos would have begged for death, if Alice had been taken and Jasper left behind. He’s only ever seen a glimpse of the monster behind the man over the decades since Jasper and Alice joined the family, and it’s enough to think that perhaps nature intervened and tried to protect everyone from what Jasper would become without Alice.

They stay in Alaska for two days; Tanya and Carmen are ill-at-ease with Seth, even after they explain who he is.

“But,” Tanya had frowned, “why is he with you?”

He didn’t have an answer for that.

Because Seth was… he was Other, like the Cullens. He understood what it was like to be special and expect to be strong enough to survive and to save; to be beyond the reach of petty mortal shit. He was a fucking kid, who’d lost his family, his friends, and most of his community. Fuck, at this rate, he’d lost his childhood too. He was the natural leader of what remained of the pack, and he’d done something fairly smart - looked for adult guidance.

A shame that the only thing he could find in its place was him and Alice. If someone had ranked his family by ‘best choice to care for a teenage boy’ he, Alice, and Jasper would have been dead last. Edward would have ranked higher.

(It still feels weird to think or talk about Alice without adding ‘and Jasper’. Like he’s mispronouncing a word.)

But it is what it is, and Seth’s still clocking more hours doing online school than online games on the laptop Alice gave him, plus there’s a bunch of food in the back of the Jeep, so they aren’t failing too badly.

Seth turns red when Tanya smiles at him, and Alice banishes him to a guest room, loudly forbidding any imprinting for the next decade, and that just means Emmett has to explain imprinting to Carmen and Tanya, and Alice has to read the riot act to Tanya about not flirting with the fourteen-year-old boy upstairs and it almost feels like old times.

They go hunting whilst Seth is asleep, and it’s obvious that nothing is the same. So much of the forest surrounding the house is just… gone. Empty, as if there was never trees looming over them, underbrush to push through. There are less animals to track and hunt, no excuse to be picky.

It was probably the same around Forks, truthfully, except there was that cloud of grief and horror surrounding him and Alice when they hunted - that was where Edward stumbled and fell. That was where Jasper couldn’t run any longer.

That was where he heard Alice scream when Rosie disintegrated.

In the harsh light of day, the situation feels much bleaker, much bigger outside of the insular forests of the Olympic Peninsula.

They don’t see a single bear.

He’s not entirely sure why they’ve come to Alaska, except he sees Carmen and Alice go off together, finds them sitting quietly together talking. On one hand, he wishes that he could sit with them; that he lost Rose just like they lost Jasper and Eleazer, but on the other hand, he doesn’t want to be a part of that particular club. Doesn’t have words left to comfort Carmen. Most of his platitudes have started sounding hollow.

Alice vanishes one morning, and leaves him to help Seth with school work, and he grimly realises they have nearly four more years of this until Seth graduates. But things will be different before then; they’ll be back in Forks and Seth can ask paid professionals to explain algebra to him.

When Alice returns, it’s time to go - she’s been off in the wilderness, trying to See around Seth, and deciding to go off on her own is, apparently, the best way.

“Call us if you need anything,” Tanya says, pulling all three of them into crushing hugs, and if Seth turns red and tries to look down Tanya’s top, Alice pretends not to notice.

“Where are you headed next?” Carmen asks, as Seth climbs in the back, clutching an energy drink they’re all going to regret.

Alice smiles. But it’s the wrong kind of smile; it’s sharp and sinister and looks wrong on her face. A Cheshire Cat smile, a Joker smile, and Emmett wonders if after all these years together, if Jasper’s reactive violence hasn’t bled into his wife a little.

“We’re going to Mexico.”

—

The trip to Mexico can be described as long.

If the Jeep wasn’t Rosalie’s last gift to him, then they probably could have run there faster, even with Seth in tow. But there won’t be anymore perfectly modified cars ever again, so he’s staying with the Jeep.

Alice gives up the passenger seat once they make it through to Alberta, apologetic that Seth’s been crammed in the backseat. But then Alice starts muttering to herself, tapping away on her phone, and seems distracted and irritated when Emmett tries to get her attention.

He can’t make out what she’s saying at all, it’s just an irregular hum, and he wonders if she’s having more of her one-sided conversations with Jasper.

The trip takes a week, winding through landlocked states. It shouldn’t take so long except everything is in chaos; they lose an entire afternoon carefully shifting some abandoned cars off the road to get the Jeep through in the middle of backwoods Montana. They spend hours waiting for gas every time they stop. And Seth might be a mystical shapeshifter, but he needs a proper bed, and hot food, and human moments; they have varying success at finding all three, but they try, and Seth is nothing if not agreeable and grateful for even the smallest attempt at making him comfortable.

They find an abandoned farm in Wyoming and they let Seth transform and run for a few hours at dusk, sitting on the front of the Jeep in silence until it’s dark enough for them to hunt, as well.

It feels like the world has ended, some days, and they are the only ones left - to him, at least. Maybe that’s why Alice is talking to herself - it’s the only sensible answer she’ll get.

Some towns are empty; no one for miles. The information that filters through the internet mentions people heading to the cities, to the larger towns, because the population is too small to keep so many different settlements functioning. There’s no money or survival if you’ve lost your entire farm, if the hospital or the school is unmanned.

And Emmett wonders if he’s been cured of human blood for good now he’s seen so much of it spilt, stale and rotting, on the backroads of the country. It feels like everything smells just a little bit like decomposition right now. He’s not sure if that’s him or if that’s everything.

And they get closer to Mexico.

—

They arrive just as the day turns to night, and he expects… he’s not sure what he expects, honestly. Maybe setting up in the motel they’ve found, that Alice has declared a safe distance from any of Maria’s plotting, and getting Seth some fresh food - he hasn’t complained, but even Emmett’s tired of the pre-packaged, long-life crap.

Instead, Alice slips from the car, clad in jeans and a leather jacket, tucking her phone in her back pocket.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” she says, like she’s going alone.

“What?” Seth looks suspiciously at the pair of them, and it’s only later that he realises the kid is terrified of being left behind. That he’ll cling to their belt loops with his dying breath. His mom left, his sister left, his friends and pack left, and he took a chance on leaving everything else that was left to stick with them.

That makes Emmett feel guilty for no reason he can name.

“I can’t see with you around me,” Alice says gently. “It’s a simple clean-up job, it won’t take long.”

Seth frowns and looks at Emmett.

“You aren’t doing this alone, Alice. Even if we wait in the car,” he says with finality. This isn’t going to be an argument, because there’s nothing to argue about. He’s not letting Alice roam around in a city full of uncontrolled newborns, no matter how talented she is.

Alice scowls. “I know what I’m doing, Emmett,” her voice is sharp, and she never likes reminding them of how long she was alone before she found Jasper; what the family knows about those years is quite vague and patchwork - as far as Alice is concerned, nothing important happened before she met Jasper, as if she popped into being on a diner stool just in time.

Rose always suspected Alice’s real story was very lonely, very frightening, but no one asks when she so obviously doesn’t want to talk about it. He knows what it costs for her to bring it up now.

“I know. But that doesn’t mean I’m letting my only sister go newborn hunting alone,” Emmett says, and Alice sighs and nods - her visions have gone dark, obviously this is not a battle she can win.

Emmett ends up wishing that he and Seth had stayed behind.

Alice is like a laser, zeroing on her targets with a single-minded intensity. He hears that hum faintly, of her talking to herself and he wants to ask her what she’s saying, what thoughts are so important she needs to say them almost out loud but he doesn’t get a chance.

The first one of Maria’s abandoned acolytes is a girl around seventeen with matted black hair and a dress that Emmett mistakes for some kind of lace at first, except it’s the remnants of dozens of meals dried across the front of her, ripples of dried, stale blood that have solidified into a repulsive black and red mass.

She snarls at them, her face bloody, and the pale form of a man beneath her. Alice just walks up to her and backhands her with a crack that makes Seth jump; Emmett flinches but he’d never admit it.

The newborn snaps at Alice, and in one movement, the girl is pinned to the brick wall behind them, cracks spiralling up her neck from Alice’s tight grip.

“Who the hell are you?” the girl snaps in Spanish and Alice says nothing, just rips her head off by her neck, the screech sounding deafening so close. Moments later, her body is in pieces in a dumpster, along with her victim, and Alice has set the entire thing alight, her face blank.

Emmett makes a decision then, to leave Seth in a brightly lit burger place with a promise he’ll be back in one hour because this is nothing a kid should see.

And he’s so, so glad that he made that choice. Alice’s hunt is something that will be burned into his brain for the rest of his life.

The next newborn is a middle-aged male who reminds Emmett of his English lit teacher back at Forks, right down to the salt and pepper streaks in his hair and the slightly off-centre nose. He’s the worst of the night, Emmett silently decides, as he guards his hunt - a family of five that he’s only half-finished. The father is extremely, viscerally dead and there’s no putting him back together; the mother is choking and struggling for a breath that her torn throat will never give her as she bleeds out; the baby in her arms is long dead with its head taken up by a gaping wound. There are two young girls, clinging to each other in terror, and there is no way this ends well.

The newborn obviously thinks Emmett is more of a threat than petite little Alice, practically frothing at the mouth as Emmett approaches him, and grabs at one of the children. It all happens in seconds - the girls scream, there is a crunch of bone and more screaming, the rich scent of fresh blood, another crunch of bone and muscle, and then the newborn’s head is half-torn away before Alice can get better leverage and finish the job. The dead child dangles from his grip, bent the wrong way; her sister has her head half caved in, and the mother still chokes on her own blood. It all happens so fast.

He should have stayed with Seth.

He lets Alice handle the rest of them - she’s located six of Maria’s surviving nine, and after the family, she takes them down swiftly and wordlessly, just a diminutive blur and the sound of tearing metal.

The sweet smoke clings to them as they make their way back to Seth, Alice’s head down.

“I thought,” she began and just shook her head. And he reached out to squeeze her shoulder.

She thought it would be closure, would feel like an ending or an achievement. That there would be some peace in ending Maria’s life’s work. Instead, she’s just the same, but with blood on her boots and a tear in her jeans. The newborns barely got an opportunity to fight back, to give her the pound of flesh she was looking for.

Seth is waiting for them in the window of the store, a broad grin on his face when he spots them. Back to the motel for the night, now. And then tomorrow…

“So,” he says finally. “What now?”

#twilight fic #alice cullen #emmett cullen #seth clearweater #mcu crossover #my fic: jar of hearts #marvel #mcu fic #why yes we did need a twilight x mcu crossover #it felt necessary

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thornsofdeath · 4 years

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phf rants

as i’ve made clear im rlly impacted by this book. dont mind my lowkey venting

damn this is long

mista's coldness towards fugo / the stadium scene as a whole

it really really hurt me to see mista treating fugo, his old partner, his old friend like a dangerous enemy. i know he had his valid reasoning, but that very specific kind of angst shatters me. mista had his gun pointed at fugo for the entire stadium scene, not wavering for even a second. the worst part? it seemed like mista was trying to purposefully incite fugo to snap by right out insulting him and his stand, saying he was glad when fugo didn’t get on the boat. it seemed like he was egging fugo on just so he had an excuse to kill him, to get one more thing off his list of concerns. fugo as a person meant nothing at all to mista. when mista said “kill these traitors, or we’ll kill you” i wanted to cry. mista goes on about hoe fugo is a massive threat because purple haze is unhinged and can wipe out the enitre population if he wanted. fugo politely corrects him, as PH only has 6 capsules and can only attack 6 times in a day. did i see myself in that scene and feel fugo’s pain of just wanting to be left alone and not have to think about the past or the future, silent and melancholic during intervention and just feeling like the only way out is to kms right then and there? thats a secret ill never tell. phf makes me smad.

there were some little details in purple haze feedback that got me thinking as well. in the 6 months between fugo’s leave and his cold reuniting with mista, fugo was playing piano at a bar. Most of the people who bring this up refer to it as just some cool trick he could get because he’s a rich kid. he is not. in flashbacks, it’s shown that bruno only knows how to cope with distress by isolating himself and bottling everything up. god, did i feel that. sheila e’s life goal was to kill illuso (to avenge her sister) and swore her life to giorno after finding out he killed him, it’s ironic though because in reality fugo had killed him, and in the first part of the book, they weren’t exactly friends.

another part that really just made me wanna sob and bash my head into a wall was seeing fugo’s pure self hatred. since he was a child, he had it drilled into his head that if he couldnt produce results, he was worthless. after being disowned and thrown into jail with no future, he was completely hopeless. even after bruno came and took him in, he was never free of his liabilities. no matter what he did, he couldnt help seeing himself as some monster, failure, and burden. (kinnie moment) it worsened when he had to abandon bruno’s gang, his only saving grace was bruno, his light, hope, and acceptance. now he was stripped of that, gripped in fear knowing too well that betraying passione would end horribly. deep in his heart he wanted so badly to join them, to join his found family, but the logic he had drilled into his own head of knowing that betrayal was foolish and futile wouldnt let him have his way. hes back on the streets, just like how he was (or wouldve been after getting out of jail) after being disowned. he got a piano gig at a bar, and let himself wallow in grief and depression for 6 months. throughout the events pf PHF, we still see him clinging to memories and trauma. they say “what you let consume you will define you”, and i couldnt begin to describe it any better. putting all of the guilt and blame on his own shoulders, feeling he deserved it all and more.

either i wasnt paying enough attention (this bitch got some rereading to do) or the purple haze distortion scene was kinda underwhelming. his character arc felt kinda rushed, like most of the book was establishing his bad state and constant flashbacks, and then all of a sudden he has confidence in his abilities and believes in himself. of course, im overjoyed he did get growth, and had a happy ending (depends on how you interpret it). stan fugio

vittorio’s fascination with pain really got me feelin. hgghhhhhhhh hh hnnhhhhh. he describes it well, wanting to feel his life force/energy in the form of pain so that he didnt ‘go extinct’, and the writing of it just saying straight up ‘cutting himself’ ‘hurting himself’ ‘self harming’ made my skin crawl. as someone who suffers with shit like that its both painful and relieving to know a character who has similar habits, whether it’s for the purpose of activating his stand or just to cope.

2 times in phf, fugo does some kind of suicide attack. of course, he survives both. it’s never made clear whether or not he intended to die/didnt mind dying as it was a way of accomplishing his mission, but either way it got me heavy breathing. the last one especially, when he bites a virus capsule to kill volpe. did he know he’d grown and purple haze would miraculously save him with his own genius plan, or was he going out with a bang? luckily for me it wasnt really gone over like ‘hey you couldve died from that are you doing ok mentally’ or else i mightve felt nauseous reading it. im all for angst, but idk how much more i can take when its day 87 of quarantine and im numb as fuck just waiting to break down.

angelica’s stand night bird flying (is probably not that complicated im just fuckin dumb) made fugo and everyone else hallucinate/dream. in fugo’s dream, it was pretty much an ideal au. he was permitted to see his grandma when she was near death (preventing the professor scene), met bruno (fisher boy with fisher dad) on a boat and they became friends, nara went back to school and was doing good overall, abba remained a cop but didnt do any bad things, the whole group was all just good friends having a fun time. god i would licherally sell my body and soul for them all to be happy like that and all live.

the concept of abandonment also messed me up, just the feeling that everyone say fugo as someone who abandoned the group in their hour of need out of selfishness made me wanna cry angry sad depression tears. hes a good man! let him be ok and happy i will fight all fugo haters no cap

every time i think back to the fugio restaurant scene i just. idk man it hurts me. the pessimistic bitch in me says that it would be unrequited and fugo would only be more sad because even through his efforts, he’s just another pawn working for giorno. on the other hand, it makes me soft n giddy because?? omyfucking god giorno asks fugo to call him giogio when NOBODY ELSE IN THE BOOK had referred to him as that. the fuckin “if grief anchors your feet, let me share it” part makes me wanna jusyt. complete my kin transformation into fugo and be a sobbin g shaking mess in his arms as he tells me its all gonna be ok. was that a vent? absolutely. anyways, its pretty damn special for the don of the mafia to invite you to breakfast at a fancy restaurant before the place opens and its just the two of you. giorno fixes fugo’s injuries and tells him that he’s proud of his growth, and that he knew fugo could do it. dude?????? if i didnt already know i was a lonely affection/affirmation/attention starved bitch that wouldve done it for me.

holy fuck that was longer than i expected it to be. i do feel better tho

#phf #purple haze feedback #fugo #pannacotta #pannacotta fugo #fugo pannacotta #jjba #jojo #mista #guido #guido mista #mista guido #giorno giovanna #giorno #giogio #fugio #vent #rant

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descendantofthesparrow · 4 years

Text

Encore - Harry Hook x reader - part 14 - comfort

@musicarose

It had been a long day at work, Karens, assholes who thought just because you smiled at them you wanted to date them, and impatient people who couldn’t fathom that they weren’t the only people who wanted a certain cupcake.

As you unlocked your door, you spotted a dark form hunched over on the couch, it was shaking and choked sobs echoed in your ears.

“Harry?” you whispered, dropping your bag on the floor and quickly closing the door behind you, jumping over the back of the couch to sit beside your sobbing boyfriend.

“Harry what's wrong?” you whispered, trying to pry his hands away from his ears and pull him into your chest, hands rubbing his back. “baby what's wrong?” you pressed your lips to his cheek.

“i-I” he whimpered, wrapping his arms around your waist slowly “I went with Ben to the isle ta do a check up on the kids an’- an’” he sniffed, hands tightening their grip on your shirt. “I saw one of da’s….clients” he stopped, hearing the click of your jaw as you clenched it, realizing what was going on.

“I get it, Harry, it's okay not to be okay, please tell me they didn’t try anything?” you spoke as calmly as you could, hand drifting up to his head and running your hands through his hair.

“n-no” he coughed a little “he didn’t see me, I came here as soon as I saw him, I just…..i just got so scared and…everything came back” he muttered weakly, nuzzling into your neck as he calmed down.

“good, im glad you came here, how long-“ he shrugged.

“lost track of time” he muttered, pouting as you pulled away from him.

“ill be right back” you cooed as Harry continued to grip your shirt “im just getting some water for you” you gently removed his hand and walked into your kitchen.

You quickly grabbed a water bottle from your fridge and walked back into your living room, sighing as you watched harry wipe his face of dried tears.

“Stay here for tonight okay?” you muttered, handing him the water bottle and grabbing the pink fluffy blanket, wrapping it around harry and kissing his forehead.

“mmhm” he hummed, closing his eyes and smiling as you pulled away and turned on the tv.

“have we watched d3 yet?” you asked him, to which he shook his head no “alright d3 it is! I'll get some snacks okay?” he nodded and fixed the blanket around his shoulders.

As the movie started, Harry looked to you, a soft smile blooming on your face as you sang while grabbing snacks.

“I know you~ I walked with you once upon a dream~” you sang to yourself, glancing at harry from time to time, making sure he was alright.

Soon the popcorn was done and you poured it into a bowl and joined Harry on the couch, laughing slightly as Harry opened his arms and pulled you into his side, wrapping the blanket around the two of you.

“so what do you think so far?” you whispered, finally looking to the screen, it was just past good to be bad, and now the kids were being chosen.

“it's okay” harry muttered “when does uma-“ you snorted.

“like 45 minutes in” harry frowned and slumped into the couch.

“really? But that’s so long!” harry whined, glancing at the remote.

“well, there's…not a lot that happens before uma shows up, I'll give you a run down then we skip to you?” harry snorted and nodded.

“aye sounds good”

“Okay so ben proposes to mal, which you knew, they get the kids, hades tries to escape, Audrey steals the crown and scepter this is all in one day by the way” you chuckled as Harry whipped his head around to look at you confused

“wait Audrey stole it that early on? I thought she stole it the same day we found out?” you snorted and shook your head.

“yeah she had the scepter for like, two days before doing anything, im surprised no one thought ‘hey…audreys missing and so is the scepter and crown, and she's still upset over ben, maybe we should check on her?!’ but nope, everyone's focused on Mal and her problems” you ranted. Harry snorted and focused back on the screen.

“alrigh’ continue” you nodded, and snapped your fingers to remember your place.

“right so then beast essentially forces mal, mal, not ben, to close the barrier and im so confused why mal had that power when all ben had to say was ‘yeah not happening’ and that closing the barrier forever side story would have been done right when it started but anyway, Audrey curses mal to be an old hag” harry shot up at that, eyes bright and he fumbled for the remote.

“what! Where is tha’ I need ya see it!” you laughed and grabbed the remote, quickly scrolling to the scene.

“personally it's my favorite scene in the whole movie” you chuckled as you let the scene play, watching harry as Audrey appeared and started taunting mal.

“oooh burn~” he cackled, cheering as Audrey hit mal with the old hag spell “YES TAKE THAT YOU BITCH~!” you almost fell off the couch at that, holding your stomach as you laughed.

“o-okay okay so mal and the others go to the isle and the barrier dispells audreys curse and then you show up!” you skipped through more of the movie to where harry stole the bikes.

“so well just watch from here kay?” harry nodded and righted himself on the couch again, pulling you back into his arms and settled in for the rest of the movie.

“sooooo Persephone isn’t in here?” he asked midway thought knight falls.

“Nope, I think that was just…us” you muttered back, head buried into Harry's shoulder as Carlos slid on the shield to grab his sword.

“mmm” harry hummed, tossing some popcorn in his mouth, “is it weird that this seems…a lot more boring through the screen than it was in real life?”

“yeah” you laughed “when I went through it, it was so much more terrifying, I kept thinking ‘don’t screw up, don’t screw up’ cuz if I did I could have died or something”

“yeh almost did lass” harry muttered, pushing his cheek against your head “if it wasn’t for Persephone tha’ knight would have killed yeh”

“but It didn’t” you kissed his jaw “she saved me and im still alive”

“yeah” harry muttered “that’s true” he sat up a little as the scene ended and the ‘ice breaker’ scene began “uhhh wha’s this?” he laughed raising his brow at evie.

“oh this is just something that was supposed to happen but with everything going on it didn’t” you simply answered, giggling as movie evie complimented movie Harry's accent.

About an hour later you were slipping on some sweat pants and one of Harry's shirts, smiling as Harry was already asleep in your bed, curled up and snoring softly.

You were glad he felt safe enough to fall asleep that easily, especially after what happened that afternoon on the isle.

You frowned, you would have to do something about hooks “clients” you didn’t know if any of them had any lingering…’ feelings’ towards hooks reference to harry as payment.

Maybe it would be safe for harry to stay here a couple more days, and you would visit Ben to talk about those people.

You nodded to yourself, that sounded good. You shut off your bathroom light and walked across the room to join harry.

you slid between the sheets and tossed your arm over his shoulder, resting your head between his shoulder blades.

“I love you harry hook” you muttered to yourself, smiling as Harry sleepily muttered back ‘I love yeh too’

--end of part 14--

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@sephiralorange

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#descendants #Descendents #disney descendants #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harry hook x reader #harry hook imagine #part of your world #reprise #encore

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thekingmickey · 4 years

Text

Emotional Spiral and Drabble

One of the core reasons why the King still carries an unnecessary amount of misplaced guilt for past events is because he had spent so much time dreading the reactions from his friends and family.

He feared that they would hate him for the lies he told and the secrets he kept. And after years of silently dreading their potential reactions, the idea of being hated for his poor choices slowly transformed from a unfortunate possibility to an irreversible absolution.

So when the truth finally comes out and everyone is sent to rescue his missing friends, he was shocked beyond belief that no one turned against him. Even Riku who actually did have a reaction towards his actions didn’t nearly explode as much as he expected.

And this confuses him so much that he ends up inadvertently becoming the one to shame and criticize his own actions long after it’s resolved.

You see, his reality has been banking on the ‘fact’ that he deserved punishment and when that didn’t happen, he unintentionally enforces that reality upon himself by becoming the internal criticizing voice he feared all this time.

After the events of KH3, he goes through a brief but significant downward spiral of atypical depression because life has quieted down enough for this emotional issue to flare up and become more outwardly noticeable... especially because it feels strange to be back in a peaceful world that he no longer believes to belong in.

Sure, he still gets happy when positive events are going on, but it’s not his usual cheerful demeanor. It’s either genuine but semi-muted or it’s completely manic and disproportionate to current events. For a while there’s no real baseline to fall back on and it only becomes really noticeable as time goes on.

On the emotional flip side, he also becomes more susceptible towards outward criticism and overreacts upon perceiving rejection (real or otherwise), turns increasingly indecisive and likely to panic when making even the simplest choices, and goes through periods of insomnia/hypersomnia that consistently cycles every few weeks or so.

These symptoms continue to develop throughout the next three to four years, and despite his insistence that nothing is wrong, his closest friends and family slowly take notice of these uncharacteristic behavior changes and take it upon themselves to become the King’s support system when he finally admits that he’s not been himself lately.... but it took a sudden side effect of extreme insomnia for the King to realize how bad things actually were.

There is a little known side effect of extreme insomnia and that is called “emotional lability” otherwise known as a rare occurrence when a person experiences an involuntary extreme display of strong emotions at rapid succession for an excessive amount of time without any cognitive control.

For example, crying and/or laughing uncontrollably for an excessive amount of time regardless of the situation. It’s an extreme and rare side effect of extreme insomnia that that has only happened once, but it was by far the worst experience the King had in his life.

Below the READ MORE link is a drabble/one shot that I wrote about this idea, but head’s up it’s kind of long and really really angsty- like probably the furthest I have ever taken any character I’ve written.. Mainly I was wanting to practice descriptive feelings without the use of any quoted dialogue and went wild- but for real though this drabble involves psychological events that may not be for the feint of heart.

-----

It happened when he discovered the truth about his mother’s death. Before he learned about it he was already in the middle of a restless cycle. This time only being able to lightly doze for around five hours per night... but after that horrible day when he finally uncovered some handwritten letters he swore his father burned years ago, he was horrified upon discovering that his mother had not left his father as he believed... but she was taken to another kingdom in hopes of recovering from a terrible illness.... and then a formal notice from a distant kingdom with deep regrets-

It had been over a month since he read those letters and had since allowed his already poor cycle of insomnia to disintegrate completely. Now he barely slept for more than two to three hours per night- sometimes per two nights or three even. This, as one may expect, vastly caused the king to spiral into extreme irritability during the day and hardly left his office other than to eat two bites of food before returning back without even speaking even when directly addressed. He swore he was fine and just wanted to have the world leave him alone- is that too much to ask?

Minnie finally had enough of watching her husband suffer and one day swiped the master key from the head butler who stood outside of the King’s office where she burst into the room with the sense to drag her husband out of this downward spiral. The head butler was unfortunately ordered to stay put for the entirety of their three-hour-long discussion, but judging by how her kind-hearted concerns were soon transformed into personal defenses and frustrated exchanges, the butler did not have to imagine how things were going. Then he heard the king say something... something he in his fifty years of service would never imagine to hear from the king's voice. Then the butler’s heart broke in two as the queen burst into tears before the king suddenly slammed the door open and stormed out of the castle while screaming terrible things all the while...

Never would he imagined...

Meanwhile, the King was currently marching through a nearby graveyard and certainly not in the mood for silent respect as he ranted his frustrations while he passed headstones that could never respond or argue-

The truth of his mother’s death lay entirely too fresh in his mind as he trudged further along in the snow. And the further he walked, the more he was reminded of previous transgressions by his father. How he separated their family... how he forbade the mouse to even talk about his mother... the terrible rule that one must only grant an hour to express the weaker side of the heart- the accusation that he shamed the royal family for being tenderhearted-

Then thoughts of his wife trickled through and mixed with past memories. He scowled. How could she ever understand? He took everything away- everything! And she wants him to just forget about it? It didn’t matter that she didn’t say those words, that’s what she meant and he knew it. Well not everyone can have perfect lives tailor-made for them! What could she possibly know about him!?

He kicked up some snow and grabbed a rock before chucking it as hard as he could against one of the larger gravestones which didn’t even cause a dent as the rock ricochet off the concrete statue before striking straight back into his ankle. After a few agonizing seconds, the mouse released a terrible guttural growl of frustration before catching a glimmer of his self-reflection shimmering from the line of headstones.

From what little he saw, he could barely see somewhat transparent images of himself ranting and raving like a child throwing a tantrum... and in some aspects, he was.

After getting to finally restore the worlds... he had assumed that life would finally begin. He’d finally take the helm of taking care of this kingdom and could prove his father wrong by being a better king than him- better than anyone!

And look at him... three years later and finding that this world hardly changed if he was alive or missing in action. Surely there was some big problem that only he could solve- something the kingdom needed him to fix... but it was the same as before he left, heck it looked even better! And the longer he stuck around, the more he felt that Minnie would be far better off without him around to ruin her perfect system.

She made all the important decisions here anyway, so what was he good for right?

The more he thought about the past three years, and his inabilities to shake away from his father’s influence, the more infuriated and isolated and hurt he felt towards the injustices of the world and how he felt so useless in it... of course, no one could ever know about that. They’d just say he was overreacting or to be glad the old king was out of their lives... but they wouldn’t understand. Minnie wouldn’t understand... and.... and-

He tensed as the image of her crying flashed before his eyes.

Oh... Oh dear Lord, out of all the things to say to her... why did it have to be that? Why? That look on her face.... He hurt her. He had really hurt her- Like everyone else...

This was the King’s thought as he finally reached the stone of his mother Lillian May... a worn-down stone that was far more decrepit than the others- no doubt something his father done just to spite her.... it was all so... so unfair!

W-Why? Mom... why did you have to leave me behind?

The rising tension he had felt for the past three years finally exploded out of the poor king who began to cry pent up tears of frustration that were decades-long overdue. He hated it. He hated feeling like this... after saving all the worlds, he was supposed to return to the cheerful funny king everyone knew him for- why was that so hard for him? Why was he so pathetic?!

He suddenly covered his mouth as he swore he heard another presence- another citizen no doubt. He bit hard against his cloak in a sudden urge to repress any noise he might be making. They can’t see him. They can’t look at it- no one gets too look at it! He bit back shuddering cries as he looked around... and after determining that there was not another soul in sight, he still kept a firm grip against his mouth as he cried- for even he was sick of hearing his own voice.

However, at that moment, something strange befell on the poor mouse as he watched this broken heap of frustrations and sorrows echo his own movements. As the reflection sobbed, he became aware that the sounds of it changed. No longer did it sound like someone who was upset... but was beginning to sound like someone bursting with giggles...

The King shook his head side to side, unable to understand why or how... but without any warning he had begun laughing in the midst of tears. How terribly awful...

Unfortunately just before he could really register the implications of this, he forced to pull down his hand. After all, there was one thing he refused to do, it was to laugh at someone’s grave. And yet as he wiped away fresh tears from his face, the small king felt another set of giggles overtake him. S- stop that! he internally called out in an effort to pick himself back up... but after several minutes the king was horrified to realize that not only was he unable to bring himself down... but he was laughing harder and harder until it instantaneously shifted back to convulsive sobs.

Soon he found himself doubled over as this strange affliction grew more drastic and intense. He could no longer stand as his body began to shake under its influence, it’s control! Both laughter and cries freely shifted within seconds and he was completely powerless while lying in the snow clutching his stomach as in a fit so extreme that he felt his abdomen violently expand and contract in panful spasms that still maddeningly encouraged his body to betray him by laughing all the more. It became too difficult to breathe- suddenly a wave of pain caused his body to lurch forward-

To find that it stopped.

He was frozen to the spot lying in the snow... but it, whatever it was, left completely. The crying... the cackling.... all of it....

While it was happening he could barely think straight, so upon having sudden silence assault his ears, the mouse was frozen stiff. He tried to lift his head, but felt an overwhelming sense of fear- as if any movement would trigger another fit. But out of the corner of his eye, it seemed like he was mistaken about a sudden presence amongst the graveyard. For way off in the distance a passerby who witnessed him collapsing was now running straight towards him... and the poor king felt his heart drop. He rolled to his side in a last ditch effort to hide. But just when the stranger’s shadow hovered over his head... another wave of explosive involuntary laughter flooded his senses while his body painfully shook with violent and mournful sobs.

He was extremely lucky that the stranger was a doctor that recognized the king’s distress and immediately took action. After some difficulty getting the king on his feet for his body was wracked with wordless convulsive spasms, he finally got the fella to sit up on all fours before lifting the King up by the shoulders and half-carried half-dragged him to a nearby truck. Once they were both inside, he wasted no time slamming the key into the ignition and then broke about a million traffic laws to get the king to the nearest hospital.

Once they finally arrived, the king was immediately rushed to a private room as one of the nurses called for an emergency messenger to the castle. Doctors began to flood the room and momentarily stared at him with such horror and pity- but even though his expression was too infuriatingly manic and his gasping laughter echoed too loud within his ears, his heart was filled with such humiliation that he immediately grabbed the nearest pillow and dove his entire face into it while heaving for air,

Luckily though, the young doctors were not there to humiliate his pride, but watching him cling to the nearest pillow seemed to jolt them out of their momentary shock. They immediately turned to each other to determine what to do. Mice were notorious for their increased heart-rate and most medicines were risky to administer under normal circumstances. What could they do for the most important mouse in the whole kingdom who was no doubt already at risk?

Just then, one of the elder doctors, a round-faced fellow with a mustache and a stern disposition burst through the group and began barking orders without so much as a passing glance. Immediately the others scattered out of the room, darting this way and that as they gathered their clipboards and began shouting for various supplies as soon as they were out the door.

The elder doctor gave a disapproving huff as he watched the last one leave before softening his expression and turned back to the king with soft kind eyes. He began to speak in even calming tones, but the poor king could hardly hear it over echoes of his own desperation. Soon after, one of the other doctors rushed in with something long and thin in his hands as the elder quickly began to untie the king’s shoes while a third doctor began to firmly press his arms against the king’s right leg. Then just as the elder removed his shoes, the second man grabbed his ankle and the king recoiled as a sharp sting dug into his heel.

At least his emotional response shifted back to the appropriate direction at that moment... but not long after a half-second of externalized panic... he was surprised to suddenly feel a pleasant warmth spread throughout his body. He was still laughing uncontrollably as the medication spread... but soon found that his stomach wasn’t contorting nearly as hard. It became easier to breathe...

He slowly turned his head. Spasms turned completely limp... screams were tamed to light and barely audible whimpers... and when the medicine had run its course, the elder doctor picked the mouse up and laid him flat on his back there were only two silent visible indications of the mouse’s current affliction that remained apparent on his body. A light fluttering in his abdomen... and silent tears that freely flowed from the corner one barely open eye.

After he was sedated, the elder doctor immediately sent for an oxygen mask to be placed on their guest while he began checking for vitals. It was perhaps for the best that the king had no memory of his stay, but would later on get a report that they had documented every involuntary session which had apparently lasted up for two hours at a time with only an average of one minute and a half of baseline stability in between.

That tottering yet dulled state was how the king had spent the next four days- each day more worrisome than the last. Apparently, he nearly fought off the medication twice and they had to administer stronger doses on several occasions- but like with any other patient they just had to find the correct balance so the poor king could still be awake enough for this strange affliction to run its course, but also sedated enough to alleviate as much mental stress as possible.

After getting that sorted, the elder doctor made it a priority to be the one to check his vitals. He talked fondly to the barely responsive king as if he were one of his own children. The patient hardly noticed another presence and his short gasps for air were worrisome, but the elder had noticed that the patient’s stomach fluttered slightly more whenever he was in the room compared to the other doctors. To him that was a good sign of the patient’s emotional sense recorrecting itself... plus it seemed like a compliment to his care, which pleased the elder doctor immensely.

And when he entered the room on the early morn of the fourth day, he was pleasantly surprised to finally see some concrete positive improvements in the patient’s health. For starters, his breathing was steady and no longer labored... the edges of his eyes were chapped from the previous crying spells, but the nurses had been consistently diligent in applying vaseline and they weren’t any fresh tears this morning. Even the fella’s skin was more of healthy color and his fur seemed to be regaining some natural shine- he wasn’t even looking for that, but positive changes all the same. The doctor lightly patted the king’s hands in soft approval, satisfied to let the nurses come in to help him ‘return to the living’ as the saying goes.

It took many hours for the mouse to properly regain consciousness. After all, he was fighting against four times the amount of sedation medication than what was usually given to other mice, but after many attempts, the small king’s eyes fluttered and slowly responded to distant echoing voices asking for his name and wondering where he was. His voice was completely shot and could barely form any sound... but he seemed able to at least mouth the correct answer which seemed to satisfy the distant voices.

Then slowly... ever so slowly... his surroundings began to take proper form as colors began to shift into proper objects and distant ringing began to clear. The nurses kept chattering away which made the small king want to cover his throbbing ears, but he was too weak to even move. Still, though, the nurses were surprised to see that the king did not have any heightened aggression like other patients after awaking from sedation... but after what he had been through... he had never had he been so grateful to not be feeling anything at all.

He smiled a dopy half-grin before succumbing to exhaustion and slept soundly for the first time in many days.

After a while, the king had been lightly awoken by the elder doctor who took the time to explain something. He was proud to see that the King had not been experiencing that odd symptom since first waking... but broke the news that they wanted to keep him there for at least another week for a variety of tests. At first, the little mouse could only barely squeak out several objections, but the elder had to insist and explained that even though they were able to help the king ride out that horrific affliction, they still had no idea what could have caused such a thing. Plus considering his position of power and no heir to the throne etc etc...

Mickey finally relented and tried to shift his position as the elder took his leave. It seemed like he was gonna be here for a long time... but something told him that they didn’t need to do much looking. After all... when he first went to his mother’s grave (had it only been nearly a week ago?) he could barely remember something about a lot of things bothering him all exploding all at once... things kept to himself... and probably shouldn’t have.

Mickey couldn’t help but grimace for he didn’t think about it until then... but it was inevitable that a messenger had been sent when he arrived here. Which essentially means that the whole kingdom probably knew all about this whole ordeal...

He groaned as he began to think about the prospect of future headlines and scheduled interviews, something from within told him that... they had the right to know about this. Something had happened because he... had been too afraid to share. To talk things out- to... to...

To ask for help... without offering it first...

He shuddered.

It seemed to him that it would be rather difficult to tear down previous walls, especially after his life's foundation had been built on them...

But after experiencing what he been through, he no longer wished to allow selfish pride hinder his emotional health. He never wanted to feel so... so helpless again. If he could just have some courage to talk about it.... at least every once in a while... maybe someday... that’ll help others too... perhaps.

But that could wait until another time... he was beginning to drift off again until he heard a small knock on the door. Who on earth? Though he was extremely tired and he was barely able to raise his voice, he called out questioningly.... and before he knew it his room was soon overcrowded with the relieved smiles of his closest friends and family.

Donald was first to burst into the room and nearly jumped on the bed, squawking and wak’ing all the while- Goofy quickly followed and lightly tugged at Donald’s shoulder causing the duck to grumble worryingly but jumped down and smiling wide at the mouse. Then Goofy was lightly squeezing his shoulder and nestled a small bag of candies within the folds of his blanket. Then Horace and Clearable and Chip and Dale... Even Master YenSid who arrived last was grumbling in low tones before sitting himself down at the foot of the bed. He looked at the mouse with intense eyes that seemed to pierce straight through him, but through the king’s slightly blurred vision he coulda sworn that YenSid looked like he had been crying lately... but he gave a soft smile and patted the mouse’s foot before standing up and excusing himself out of the room.

Though he wished he had called him back to stay longer, the King was perhaps too overwhelmed as is upon watching everyone hovering around his bed while excitedly talking over each other and asking questions and celebrating... Minnie though had walked to greet her husband last after everyone else had begun to settle. Without so much as a word, she softly drew close and cupped her hands around his head while gently brushing her thumb lightly under his puffy eyes. It wasn’t until then he realized how awful he must look, but quietly dismissed that as soon as he gazed into her own... and noticed they looked puffy as well...

Without the voice to say the feelings in his heart, he let himself lean heavily against her palm. Then he slowly pursed his lips and brushed them lightly against her wrist... It was hardly the apology she deserved for all he put her through, but by her tearful smile that seemed to lift up his very soul... he knew she understood and accepted it all the same. Slowly she leaned forward and gently placed a soft kiss on his brow. And all was right in the world.

After a few precious moments, Minnie finally pulled away and began to readjust the back of his pillow while keeping one hand firmly secure in her own- Mickey took the time to silently lean back and watch as the others settled themselves around his bed. Soon enough, everyone began to simply enjoy each other’s company now that their king was on the mend. Occasionally they’d turn to him to ask something but Minnie was a perfect advocate to let him rest...

But he didn’t mind as a small grin spread across his face before a light chuckle left his lips... it was worn, hollow, and hardly managed to be above a whisper.... but it was the first real laugh he felt for a long time.

At that moment, being able to simply exist while surrounded by those who truly loved him...

It was the first time in three years that he truly felt at home.

-----

Sooo yeah, that was the drabble- Ohhh man I hope I didn’t scare anybody ahhhhh. I hope you guys enjoyed this nevertheless!

The good news is that it’s only because of Mickey’s friends and family’s collective efforts that he was able to recognize and combat his atypical depression/emotional dysregulation issues. And he never went through another “emotional lability” episode again, thank the heavens.

After about another year dedicated to developing a better relationship with his own health, the King is finally convinced to discuss his past mistakes with those who were most affected and takes a person journey to seek them out. He was afraid of meeting them at first, but figured that if his fears were confirmed, it would still be better for his own sake to seek some actual closure on the matter so he can finally move forward with his life.

Currently he is in a lot better headspace than he used to be when the worlds were first restored, though sometimes he is still inclined to internalize anxiety when making minor mistakes. But other than that, he is making a far better effort to handle past or current problems and regulating his emotions a lot more frequently.

The king may still find it awkward to focus on his own problems, but he feels incredibly blessed to have the help of his dear friends and family every step of the way.

#From The Castle 🔭🏰🔭(Created Posts!)#By Royal Decree ⚜️👑⚜️(Text Posts!)#Her Small Stories 🪔🖋🪔(Drabbles!)#The Key To His Majesty’s Heart 💖🗝💖(Headcanon Posts!)#angst.... like a lot of it #king mickey #disney fic #disney #disney drabble #drabble #fanfic #fanfiction #kh drabble #kh fanfiction #sora

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