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#or maybe we do have the main story in the next patch who knows

musings-of-a-rose · 8 months

Note

Hey! I don’t know if you’re taking requests but I just had a really angsty, sad Frankie idea. Reader used to be in Delta force with the guys but something bad happened, reader dies or is really badly injured. Frankie takes her hat, Standard Heating Oil, and from then on, he wears it every single day as a tribute to his fallen team member (who he was secretly in love with. Maybe he told reader, maybe he didn’t…) Anyway, that’s my idea. Thanks!

Catfish and Shadow

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f! Reader

Word Count: 5400+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: This was such a good ask! It hurts in all the right ways. I’m actually going to pull a little from a real life experience that happened to my husband. If I remember, I’ll put an author’s note at the end with what happened! Huge thanks to @rhoorl for beta reading - if you haven't checked our her fics, go now!

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❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Frankie Morales Masterlist

“Hold on, Shadow. There’s still some hair sticking out from under your hat.” Frankie turns slightly to me from his place next to me in the dark hallway, reaching up to tuck a random strand of my loose hair under my hat. His fingers linger slightly as his eyes glance down at mine, a quick, soft smile on his face, seeming like he wants to say something but changes his mind at the last minute.

“One of these days you’ll have to tell me what the Standard Heating Oil is from,” Frankie says to me, nodding up to the patch label on my hat.

“If we get out of this alive, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“It’s a deal. Please be safe, Shadow.”

“I always am. Plus, I have you watching my ass so I know I’ll be good.” His ears turn pink as he stammers. But before he can retort, Redfly, our leader, clears his throat. “Everyone ready? Shadow, your hat secure? We don’t want them knowing you’re a woman if we can help it.”

I nod, swallowing down the nerves in my stomach. “Yes, sir.”

Redfly nods at me before looking at Frankie. “Make sure to watch her six. She’s smaller than you, less noticeable, so she’ll be on the ground.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ironhead, Pope, Benny. Ready?” They all grunt their affirmatives, shifting their stance and double checking their concealed weapons were still concealed. “Alright. Let’s move.”

Quietly, we all file out from the darkened hallway, making our way to the front of the clay hut where we had changed into our undercover civilian clothes. The mission was to make it to a building several blocks away and gain access, taking out the mercenaries inside. So far, they have no idea we’re here. Waiting a minute or 2 between people, I leave the hut, taking a left turn towards the center of the town, feeling Frankie’s eyes on me from the rooftops, where he had assumed his position several minutes earlier.

“Duck your head to the right when you round this corner. There’s a group of men,” His voice rasps in my ear over the speaker. I’ll never get over how sexy his voice sounds in this thing, and maybe one day I’ll have the guts to actually tell him. I do as he says, shifting my head more right as I round the corner, pretending to look at some wares a shopkeeper had set up. Luckily the men took zero notice of me, laughing loudly at some joke, their guns slung over their shoulders swaying with their laughter.

“Lookin’ good, Shadow. Just normal civiies all the way to the rendezvous.” I nod slightly, following my orders to say nothing as my voice would give me away not only as a female, but an American as well. I make it to the rendezvous and lean against a wall, looking like I was bored waiting for someone but really I was watching the building front several feet away. A few men file out, but the door closes behind them solidly. I watch the building for several more minutes, hearing the rest of my squad all make it to their positions.

“Advance.” Redfly’s voice speaks in my ear and I push off from the wall, nonchalantly heading towards the front door. No one even looks at me aside from Frankie, who’s eyes I feel boring into me. Taking a deep breath, I make it to the front door, raise my fist, and knock twice, then once, then 3 more times in rapid succession, repeating the pattern the other men had used before entering. The door opens and a man stands there, his eyes meeting mine and briefly showing his non-recognition before the smoke bomb I had concealed in my hand clanks to the floor behind him.

Smoke billows out quickly from the bomb and I duck to the side of the building, hearing Benny, Ironhead, and Pope advance, their gunfire quietly echoing inside the thick clay building. I meet Redfly around the back and he slides me a gun, both of us covering the back exit, taking out a few men who tried to escape instead of holding down the building. One man we miss, but Frankie’s silent but deadly shot rings out from above, the man crumpling to ground, his body silent and unmoving, eyes open but the person gone.

We hear the team move through the rest of the small, 3-storied house, clearing out the floors, Redfly taking out another 2 that tried to escape through the front door where he had moved to a few minutes earlier. No one else tries to come out the back door and then we hear Benny call through the mic. “Clear.” Redfly and I move inside, me following behind him in through the front, meeting the rest of the ground team inside. I stand near the front door, watching the boys as I wait for Redfly to tell Frankie to meet up with us. I’ll feel better once he’s here.

“Frankie, make your way here,” Redfly commands in his mic, Frankie confirming before going quiet again.

“Did you locate the stash?” Redfly addresses the ground team. Benny shakes his head.

“There’s a large trunk upstairs that we need to inspect.”

Redlfy nods. “Anything else?”

Suddenly, a large, unfamiliar arm wraps around me, pulling me tight to someone’s chest, a gun barrel shoved into my temple, rapid words in a language I barely understand being spewed out over my head. My hands wrap around his arm but I can’t force it, the gun barrel pushing in further to my head. I don’t need to understand the language to know he’s telling me to not move. I freeze, the men in front of me desperately trying to negotiate my release, Ironhead rapidly spitting back words in the language I’m kicking myself for not picking up quicker. But then I hear a voice that instantly warms me, tells me everything will be ok and I swear if I make it out of here, I’m telling him exactly how I feel.

“Let her go and put down the gun.” Frankie’s voice is low and demanding, sending a shudder up my spine but not for the same reason as the man behind me, desperately clutching me to his chest. Ironhead repeats Frankie’s words back to him in his language, a quick conversation happening between them. I feel the man’s grip start to loosen, but then a quiet pop sounds, Frankie’s yell ripping through the room as another shot follows, the man that had been holding me falling to the side, a bullet ripping through his neck as he clutches at it, the last few moments of his life spewing from him before he slumps and doesn’t move. It’s not until he hits the ground that I start to feel lightheaded.

“Shadow? Shadow, talk to me!” Frankie is there, dropping himself to the floor as he holds me in his lap, his hand moving to lift up my shirt. Pain rips through me and I grunt, his quiet shushing holding me here as he lifts the edge of my shirt up. He schools his face and that’s when I know it’s bad.

“You didn’t have to wait for me to get shot to take off my shirt, you know.” I can feel the pain sinking in now, the bullet lodged somewhere in my abdomen, slowly signing my death warrant.

Frankie chuckles, swallowing hard to fight back tears. “Is that so?” I can hear Redfly yelling into his mic demanding a medic chopper to our location, the rest of the boys close but giving Frankie and I a little space.

I nod, coughing a little and whimpering at the pain that is caused by the soft movement. “You only had to ask.”

He smiles, tears he can’t stop welling up in the corners of his eyes. “Well that’s good to know. When you get patched up, I’ll take you up on that.”

I smile as best I can, my head feeling like it’s harder and harder to stay here. I blink and Frankie squeezes me lightly. “Hey, stay with me querida. Medic is almost here.”

I swallow hard, now feeling the pool of blood that’s collecting on the floor as it sinks into my pant leg. “Frankie, I don’t-”

“Sshh. Don’t say anything. You’re going to make it. You just have to hold on.”

But already there’s black at the edge of my vision, quickly beckoning me to unconsciousness, my head feeling more and more heavy as I lose more blood. I feel my eyes start to flutter closed as Frankie calls my name, the sound of a chopper getting louder and I’m trying to focus on his voice, his beautiful voice, but then I can’t, sleep taking me over as Frankie yells my real name…

“No! No, you have to stay with me!” Frankie yells, slightly shaking her body which had become more limp as her eyes flutter closed. Medics push in and at first Frankie tries to hold on to her tight, but then Pope and Benny are pulling him from her, letting the medics move in and try to stabilize her.

His Shadow. The love of his life. Why had he never told her?

Quick, rushed movements over her body, rapid words exchanged between the few medics before they place her on a stretcher, quickly moving her to the chopper waiting just beyond the buildings outside. Frankie moves to follow her, but Redfly grabs his arm.

“We need to finish the mission, Cat.”

Frankie’s eyes flash with anger. “What the fuck, Redlfy? Shadow is dying on that chopper. I’m going with her!”

“No you aren’t. That’s an order.”

“Then court marshal me.” But it’s already too late. Frankie hears the chopper ascend, carrying the person he loves most in this world away from him as she bleeds out, alone. Well not alone, but not with him.

Frankie screams, dropping to his knees as pushes his face into his hands, tugging on his hair. They let him have this moment, all of them feeling the loss of her, like a gaping hole that they have to patch up quickly that won’t feel the same. A minute goes by before Benny moves forward, dropping to a knee next to Frankie and putting his hand on his shoulder, giving it a little squeeze.

“Hey man. I’m sure she’ll be ok.”

Frankie’s tear stained face looks up at him. “You don’t know that.”

“You’re right. I don’t. But I do know we have to finish this mission so we can all get back safe and find her. She wouldn’t want to lose all of us because we didn’t move in time.”

The anger in Frankie’s eyes simmers at Benny’s words. He’s right. He may hate it but he’s right. Frankie nods, wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve. He moves to stand up but then he sees it on the floor, Shadow’s hat, the Standard Heating Oil logo dusty from being on the dirt floor. Frankie picks it up and dusts it off, quickly adjusting it to his size before snugly placing it on his head. Everyone nods at him, accepting this way to honor their injured teammate.

The mission is a success and they all get lifted back to base. It had been a few days since Shadow was airlifted back to medics and Frankie was itching to see if she was ok. He was determined to tell her how he feels the moment his eyes find hers. He makes his way to the medical building as soon as his boots hit the floor, Benny following behind him as the rest of the team goes to debrief. Frankie pushes open the front door and stops at the little receptionist desk, the woman behind it squinting at the screen as she slaps the side of the monitor.

“I swear they need to get us a flat panel or something. This thing is ancient.” She looks up at Frankie, a smile on her face. “How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for a soldier who would’ve come in 3 days ago, gunshot wound to the abdomen.” She nods as he gives her her name, the receptionist’s fingers clinking away at the keyboard. She squints at the screen again, another slap to the side of the monitor.

“Yes I see her here…gunshot wound…and you are her...?”

“Teammate. We both are,” Frankie says as Benny nods over his shoulder.

Her eyes move back to the screen as she reads some more, her lips moving with the words as she reads them. Then she stops, taking off her glasses and setting them to the side. She takes a breath and Frankie’s stomach falls out.

“I’m sorry to tell you, but she passed.”

“Passed? What do you mean passed?” Frankie asks, the lady looking from him to Benny behind him, who had silent tears streaming down his cheeks already.

“Fish-” Benny puts his hand on his shoulder but Frankie shrugs it off.

“No, don’t! What does she mean? Tell me!” He’s yelling now, Benny trying to pull him away from the receptionist, apologizing to her. She smiles sadly, a knowing look on her face.

Frankie turns to Benny, gripping his sleeves as Benny tries to pull him into his chest. “No Ben, what..she..she can’t, I never told her-” and then he crumbles into Benny’s chest, face buried in his shoulder as he wails, a hole in his gut getting larger and larger as his grief consumes him. Benny holds him tight, his own tears at the loss of his friend that was like a sister to him, trickling down his cheeks as he listens to his best friend wail into the quiet hall.

24 hours later they’re called out for another mission, Frankie pulling her hat on tight, the way he can carry her with him as he swallows down the grief that consumes him whenever he isn’t on a mission. He pours himself into his work, protecting his friends and doing what his country asks of him.

I blink awake, the lights in whatever room I’m in are dimmed, giving the room a slight yellow-white glow. I shift and wince, the bullet would in my abdomen screaming at me to be still. I place my hand over it and feel a large bandage. It’s then I realize that I’m in a hospital gown and in a hospital bed, definitely not the med bay back at base. A nurse walks into the room and smiles at me.

“Oh you’re awake! How do you feel?”

“Like I was shot in the stomach,” I croak out as she hands me a cup of water, a straw sticking out of the top.

“Small sips. Yeah I would imagine it doesn’t feel great. Would you like something more for the pain?”

I take a small sip and cough, managing to swallow a little of it. “I don’t know, honestly. How long have I been out?”

She glances at my chart. “Several days.”

“Where am I?”

She names off a hospital and seems to see that I have no idea what she’s talking about. “It’s an American run hospital here.”

“So, I’m not on base then?”

She shakes her head. “No. They moved you here because of the severity of your wounds. Let me grab the doctor.” She leaves the room and returns 20 minutes later with a man in a white coat. He takes my chart from her and scans it, nodding.

“How are we feeling?”

“Like we were shot in the stomach.”

He chuckles at my recycled joke. “Yeah I imagine so. If you need anything stronger let us know.”

I nod. “The nurse mentioned I’m not on base?”

He shakes his head. “Your injuries were too extensive to be treated on base so they brought you here immediately. We had to do surgery to remove the bullet and repair the damage it caused. You’ll feel it for a while but there shouldn’t be any long term damage, aside from a scar.”

I nod. “Thank you, doctor.” He nods and leaves the room, the nurse coming back over to me.

“Do you need anything else?”

“Uh yeah, actually. Do you have clearance? To ask about another soldier?”

She nods. “I do.” She takes a paper and pen from her scrub pocket. “Write down their names and I’ll see what I can find out.”

I write down the names of my team mates, my heart tightening when I write Frankie’s name, him screaming my name with wide eyes the last thing I remember before blacking out. I hate that I put him through the ringer. It’s not my fault I know, but at least I made it and now I can tell him how I feel. I think he may feel the same for me?

The nurse leaves with my thanks and I’m left to flip through channels on the older tv that’s sitting on a hanging shelf in the upper corner of the room. There’s nothing on but I mindlessly flip through them, nervously waiting for the nurse to return. She comes back a few hours later, bringing with her my medication.

“I’m sorry it took me a minute. There’s a lot of Miller’s to sift through.”

I smile. “Yeah. Common name.” She hands me a cup with pills in it, telling me it’s my pain meds and other post surgery ones. But it’s the way she’s not quite meeting my eyes that puts me on alert. I take the meds as requested, handing her back the small paper cup.

“Just me tell me. Please.”

The nurse sighs and hesitates a brief moment before taking my hand, gently swiping her tumb across the back of my hand.

“I’m sorry dear. But none of them made it. Looks like a classified mission. ”

I pause. “What?”

“N-none of them made it.”

“Did you tell them Delta Force? Sometimes we’re in a different section.”

She nods. “Yes, ma’am. It’s…confirmed.” She squeezes my hand but I can’t register anything else she says over the high pitched ringing in my ears. Gone? That can’t be right. They were all very much alive when I…no no no! They can’t be…Frankie can’t be….The wail that rips from my throat sounds inhuman, grief spewing from my body as I scream, the nurse trying to calm me, the stitches on my stomach bursting with pain as my stomach contracts and I throw up, continuing to scream as other nurses come into the room, one of them pushing a needle into my arm and I slowly pass out, the last thought I have is of Frankie and his big, brown eyes and how I’ll never see them again.

There was no funeral. Or rather it had been finished before I could leave the hospital. I couldn’t bring myself to fly out to their graves, to see their names etched in stone. Instead, I stayed at my parent’s house, grief and depression consuming me for years. Eventually I crawled out, poking my head above the surface and taking a small breath in the form of painting. I was pretty good at it too. I sold several pieces and some rich guy commissioned me to do paintings for every room in his house. Once that was completed, several of his friends reached out and before I knew it, I had quite a little business going.

It felt good, to do something with my hands besides peeling back the skin at the corners of my nails. The hole the boys left was still very much there and I suspect it will never quite go away. But the wound Frankie’s death left behind still hurts almost as much as it did when I first found out he died about 7 years ago. Once I started painting, my parents tried to set me up on dates, but nothing ever took. I don’t want any of them. The other half of me is buried in the earth and I’ve been coming to terms with that. Which will probably take the rest of my life and the next.

My phone bings and I set down my brush, swallowing hard as I look at the shade of brown paint, nearly an exact match for Frankie’s eyes. A quick glance and it’s a text from my mom.

Mom: You’re still coming this weekend?

Yes mom. I promised I’d house sit for you after the party.

Mom: Are you sure? It’s such a long way

Mom, it’s your 30th anniversary. I’m not missing that.

Mom: Well, if you’re sure. Don’t forget to pack that lovely dress I bought you.

Of course. Just promise not to set me up with anyone

Mom: See you Friday!

I don’t like the way she avoided that last one, but I can easily get rid of them. Once they get a glimpse of my PTSD, they run.

Friday rolls around and I step off the plane, pulling my backpack up higher on my shoulder, spotting my dad through the crowd of people waiting just beyond TSA. He smiles wide and pulls me to him in a tight hug.

“Your mom wanted to come but there was some last minute emergency with the cake.”

“Sounds serious.”

He chuckles and I smile. I had missed my parents.

“Wanna grab a drink before we head home?”

“Shit, she set me up didn’t she?”

He laughs loudly this time. “She’s pretty obvious, huh? She’s just worried about you, kid. But-” he puts his hands in the air as I open my mouth to protest “-I told her you wouldn’t be interested and to leave you alone. As far as I know, she understands. Or at least she pretends to.”

A quick drink at an unfamiliar bar and then I’m walking back into my childhood home, nearly the same as it was from my childhood, just newer electronics. My mom comes into the room, her phone clutched to her ear as she listens to someone rattle off on the other end.

“Well I don’t care how it’s done but do it! The party is tomorrow!” She hangs up and sighs before giving me a tight hug.

“Everything ok, mom?”

“Oh yeah. Just people not wanting to do their jobs. But it’s fine! You’re here!”

The party passes in a blur, one guy coming to talk to me briefly before my dad whisks him away, giving me a wink as he does so. The party was beautiful and romantic, my parent’s love on full display. They leave right after the party, jetting off to Europe for 2 weeks, the honeymoon they never got to have. And as the only child without my own children, I get the honor of house-sitting, which isn’t too bad. It’s nice to get away from the city and all the bustle it brings.

Sunday morning I wake when I want, stretching before I head downstairs for some coffee, scratching absentmindedly at the scar on my stomach as I slide my hand under my Fleetwood Mac shirt. No, not mine. His. I had swiped it from him before our mission, a practical joke for when we returned from our mission and he saw it was missing. I slept with it for months after his death, eventually putting it in a ziploc bag when I noticed the smell fading and only brought it out on his birthday and when life got a little too hard. With all the love celebrating last night, my heart hurt and hung heavy, old tears falling new on my cheeks as I excused myself to cry in the bathroom for a bit, missing my what could have been. So I figured I needed the shirt. Sighing, I take a sip of my coffee, staring out of the back window at my mother’s garden, trying to take in it’s beauty and not fall too far into my own grief.

“You’re really going out there?” Benny asks Frankie, watching him toss clothes into a backpack.

“Yeah. We never went out there when we got back and I think it’s time. I just feel it.”

Benny nods. “I get it man, but what are you gonna say to her parents? ‘Sorry I never came to the funeral?’”

Frankie gives his friend a look as he zips up his backpack. “I don’t know, Ben. I just…after all these years, and the shit I’ve been through, I…I need to see her.”

Benny gives his friend a small smile. “Tell Shadow we’ll make it an annual thing and all come out to see her next year. Put an extra flower down for me?”

“I’ll make sure she knows one of them is from you.”

Benny takes his friend to the airport, pulling him into a bear hug before he boarded. The flight was uneventful, Frankie constantly checking the note in his phone with her parent’s address on it. He’d had it all these years, but never could bring himself to visit, to tell them her death was his fault, that he should’ve shot sooner or just taken the guy out. But he couldn’t tell them that, classified, and then he poured himself into his work, earning himself a sleeping disorder, a drug addiction, and a strong case of PTSD. He’d come out the other side of the addiction with the help of his friends, but the sleeping issues and PTSD remained. He supposed they always would, watching her face as the life drains from her, the love of his life.

He gets out of the rental car, taking a deep breath as he walks up the drive to the front door. It’s a nice house on a quiet street and for a moment, he listens to the sounds of the neighborhood, picturing what it must have been like for her to have grown up here, run up and down these same front steps. Tears well in his eyes and he tries to swallow them back as he knocks, afraid that if he doesn’t do it now, he’ll back out and run away, not able to at least look her parents in the eye.

But when the door opens, it’s not her mom or dad or any of her siblings. Frankie’s breath catches in his throat, his heart beating so rapidly he’d swear it was beating out of his chest, his brain trying to process what he’s seeing.

“Frankie?”

I’m halfway through my cup of coffee when someone knocks at the door. I think my mom said some packages were being delivered but I don’t want them to sit on the porch. I set my mug down and walk to the front door, unlocking it and opening it to look into deep brown eyes. Eyes I thought I would never see again. My heart leaps from my chest, my stomach twisting, my brain rapidly trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. Have I finally lost it? Gone mad with grief? But then a slight breeze picks up and his hair moves and I snap out of it just enough.

“Frankie?” I think I say it, my brain still not sure if I’m hallucinating.

“Sh-Shadow?” His fingers reach towards me, barely ghosting across my cheek, but..they’re real. I can feel him touching me. He’s real and alive and I’m so confused but it can’t be my brain tricking me, right?

Suddenly he reaches out, yanking me to his chest and burying his nose in my hair, my arms winding around him and gripping him tight, inhaling him as my face presses to his chest. Tears flow freely as I grab at him, feeling him solidly under my grasp.

“I thought you were dead,” he cries into me, his tears making my hair damp.

“I thought you were dead!”

He pulls away a small bit and takes my face in his hands, his eyes looking between mine. “This is real, right? You’re really…real?”

I nod. “I am. Are you?”

“I am. I…I love you!” And then his lips are pressed to mine, soft and slightly chapped, one of his hands sliding around to the back of my head, the other settling on my hip. I kiss him back, pouring a decades worth of love and grief into that kiss for several moments before a sob erupts from my throat and I break the kiss, heaving as I cling to his shirt.

“I-I-I’m s-s-s-sorry! I-I-I l-l-love y-you t-t-too!” My sobs break up my speech and I feel ridiculous, but Frankie laughs and I start to cry all over again. I’d forgotten his laugh and how warm it makes me feel and I would do anything to hear that sound for the rest of my life.

“I am barely holding it together, querida. I-wait. Is that my Fleetwood Mac shirt?”

My sobs turn into a seal bark of a laugh, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, feeling his fingers on my hip still.

“Yeah. Ha-ha I got you!”

He chuckles as he kisses me again, fingers digging deeper into my hip as he walks me back into the house, kicking the door closed behind him.

Instead of talking, we spend the next several hours in bed, Frankie pressing himself between my legs, sliding into me as if we were made for each other, years of longing and grief poured into every meet of our hips. Once we get out of a lengthy shower, Frankie lays on my childhood bed and beckons me to him, pulling me down to him as I cuddle into his side, my hand on his chest and leg over his, his fingers tracing the end of the scar that derailed my life. Our lives.

“You’ve been alive all this time?” I ask, turning my head up to look at him.

He nods sadly. “Yeah.”

“All of you?”

“Yeah, why?”

I cry again, guilty that I didn’t confirm this before he pressed me into my bed but I was so overwhelmed I didn’t even think about it. He holds me and gives me time to cry, speaking words of comfort in my ear.

“I asked the nurse to look you all up and she said you had died. That…that all of you had…had…”

“What? No, we came back from the mission a few days…after. Then we had to ship out a day later on a new one. I asked the receptionist at the med building and she said you had died.”

Anger surges through me at the years we lost over incorrect records. “Ok, who do I have to fuck up for this? Because this was bullshit. I…I don’t have words, Frankie, I-”

“I know, querida. It was either wrong records or they looked at the wrong name. And I may seem calm, but inside I’m seething. I just…I’ll deal with that later. For now, I just want to hold you and celebrate the fact that you’re alive and…wait. Did you say you love me too?”

“Francisco Morales, you have touched my body in nearly every way possible and you’re questioning my love?”

“Well I’m still not entirely sure you’re real.”

I shift, leaning up to press my lips to his. “I guess we have all the time in the world to find out.”

2 months later, we get married in my parent’s backyard, all of the Delta Force boys there to cheer us on.

Author’s Note: My husband is a veteran who served around the time of 9/11. He was injured overseas and left the army. His friends/team mates all signed back up. When he was able, he asked about his friends in order to stay in contact and was told they had all died, killed in action overseas.

Flash forward nearly 2 decades later, he makes a comment in a Facebook page for memes and gets a comment back with his nickname from back in the day. One of his friends had actually been alive this entire time and that friend had been told that my husband had died.

Facebook may be a lot of shit, but will always have a spot in my heart for it for bringing back my husband’s friend from the dead. I will never forget the look on his face when he came out to tell me!

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preservationofnormalcy · 21 days

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Ok, so I’m writing a novel involving paranormal investigation (no relation to you, takes place in a fictional town) and I’m on my third draft when the main character shows up behind me, grabs and turns me around to tell me of the “inaccuracies to his case”. Now I wrote them down and how I should change them. And when I looked up from my notepad, he was gone.

I want to continue, and most of these I feel like I can implement within the story, but what exactly happened? And if this becomes a series, will he continue to pop up, or was it one of those “one in a blue moon scenarios”?

And what do I do if it isn’t?

Hey Norm...

Hmm? Didn't you do a PSA about this exact subject in the nineties?

Oh, uh, sure. When I first started. Around '99. It's waaay outdated, now, you know, with the internet and everything, it's better to not even look it up. I don't think it was even digitized, really. I have no idea what happened to it.

Oh, Norm, don't worry! If there's one person who knows your filing system better than you, it's me! Let's see...H for Holmes, S for Sherlock...cross reference to P for Parafictional, 90s...HERE WE GO! "Dear Watson: That's Not Holmes, That's A Lure!"

Oh good, they put it on a disc so that a tech savvy person could find it, uh, twenty five years later. I wouldn't play it, I can't guarantee--

So. You have encountered an entity from a fictional property. You're excited - maybe you wanted to talk to your favorite book character. Or. Maybe you are a writer and you are excited to talk to your protagonist. But...is that entity real?

<There's an extremely awkward camera change, and the man looks to it, his eyes following a point again.>

....or a lure?

When encountering a parafictional manifestation, remember the three S's.

Solidity: are you are this entity is physical and not all in your head?

Subjective: if it's real, are other people seeing the same thing?

Sentience: is this entity sentient, or merely approximating sentience? Is it answering questions like a sentient entity, or like how it would be expected to answer?

If...uh.

If this entity doesn't pass any of these easy-to-remember checks, that's a red flag. Any number of malicious extranormal entities can exploit the human capacity for creativity in order to feed on our psychic energy, creating a non-sentient construct we call a "Chinese Room" in order to keep YOU from asking questions.

Remember next time you see Darth Vader, Spider-man, or Tarzan - are you so incredibly lucky to experience such a rare phenomena as true parafictional manifestation?

Or are you being lured?

....god, my hair.

#office for the preservation of normalcy #ask #advice #parafiction

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merrinla · 6 months

Text

Lift the Shadow Curse. Cut content. Part I

It was supposed to be one post, but because of the audio limit, I had to split it into two. So this part will be mostly about the portal ritual and the next one will be about other details.

Some of the lines below are in the game, the rest are from the early access patch 8.

During the cycle of development, Halsin has gone through many changes. He was originally just another side npc in the camp, but the community adored him so much that he was promoted to a full companion. Previously his story was more related to the main plot and the Thorm family, but later it was retconned. In the full release Halsin's personal quest is to find and rescue his childhood friend, a fey boy, from the Shadowfell. This special child is the only one who can cure the land from the shadow curse. And according to some files, this quest was previously also different from what we see in the game.

Bones of Contention

Before starting the portal ritual, the player had to find three bones of contention. To do this, it was necessary to defeat three bosses - the Hospital boss, the Tollhouse boss and the Distillery boss.

As we know from the game, these are Malus Thorm, Gerringothe Thorm and Thisobald Thorm.

Ketheric's daughter, Isobel also took part in this quest. The player could give her the bones to research. Who else could help us with the secrets of the Thorm family better than one of them.

After that, you had to bring the bones to Halsin and he crushed them as it was necessary for the ritual.

In the release version this part was replaced with a quest Wake up Art Cullagh.

Thorm blood

There is a flag in the game with an interesting name that isn't used anywhere - "SCL_ShadowCurse_Knows_NeedsBloodOfThorm". Unfortunately, there is no detailed description. So I can only guess.

Most of the flags "SCL_ShadowCurse_..." are related to Halsin's quest. I doubt this one is an exception. If the Thorm bones were part of the portal ritual, then maybe the blood was too. And it's not necessary to kill someone for that. Well, depends on how much blood you need. If we needed a volunteer, then only Isobel comes to mind. According to another flag, the player could ask her about the blood. But again, there's no details.

Maybe the Thorm blood was needed to open the portal (reminds me of DMC3) or lift the curse. Maybe it was Ketheric's blood that was needed because he started it all. And he definitely wouldn't have shared it voluntarily, so it would have ended up in a boss fight. The same as it is in the game. Or something else.

The ritual

Unlike the release version, the player didn't defend the portal, but Halsin while he conducted the ritual. This prayer is longer and has different words. During the combat, his voice was louder and more intense.

The player could interfere with the portal

In the game Halsin repeatedly warns that only he should enter the portal and nobody else.

Now it's important that only I pass through the portal once it opens. The magic is fragile - any mistake, and our one chance will be lost forever.

If there's any interference with the portal, then our one chance is lost forever. And so am I.

Let's begin. Remember what I told you - we won't have a second chance here.

Let's begin. Whatever happens, do not attempt enter the portal, and do not let anything interfere with it.

Even if you want to enter the portal, it won’t work. The scene ends only after Halsin has used the portal himself.

But earlier the player could attempt to enter the portal before Halsin. And it would have collapsed it. Not to mention that this would make Halsin furious and after that he would leave the camp.

Halsin was returning from the Shadowfell through the Shar Temple

The description of one flag says that Halsin explains how to find him after he is entered the Shadowfell. Which means he was returning in a different way than in the game.

And according to some lines it was the Shar Temple.

Once I've entered, go to the Shar Temple and look for a sign of my spirit. I can't say for certain how it'll manifest. But you'll know it when you see it.

Hah. Once I've entered, you must seek the place where Shar is loved the most. Look for a temple dedicated to her. There will be little separating the realms of light and dark in such a place. Once you find it, look for a sign of my spirit. I can't say for certain how it will manifest, but you'll know it when you see it.

I don't know exactly how the player was supposed to find Halsin (Halsin didn't know that either). But it seems he must have seen you or something that he could see with your help. In the game, right before the ritual begins, Halsin says "You are the beacon that will guide me home." I guess we really are.

I see you! Hold on! The path home is becoming clear!

Nearly there! Just hold on a little longer!

And when did he finally succeed, there was no limit to his happiness.

It worked. Oakfather's mossy beard, it worked!

Better than alive, triumphant!

Oh, my friend. I think my embrace would break you in two, such is my gratitude. But as you can see, my hands are full... [with Thaniel]

After which, it seems he went with Thaniel not to the camp but to the Last Light Inn. Maybe because Isobel's magic protected this place from shadows.

But now, I can tend to him, and the recovery can begin. Find us at Last Light, and thank you. The sun will soon rise over these lands.

Promise

Another part of the portal ritual was the dagger Promise that Halsin gave to the player. And we could even ask him about this weapon.

I've heard the theory that the dagger could be a beacon for Halsin. But, alas, I couldn't find any more information other than a brief description.

A leafy pattern is carved into the dagger's blade. It glows faintly in the dark.

I wonder if this weapon has its own story as the glaive Sorrow.

The dagger is still in the game, but you can only add it to your inventory via the console.

-----

Well, this is too much for one side quest (3 bosses + Shar Temple), so I understand why they changed it. I don't think Halsin was a companion in this version yet. Otherwise, he would have joined the party only at the end of Act 2.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #bg3 spoilers #halsin #bg3 datamine #bg3 voicelines

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genericpuff · 1 year

Text

I've come to the stunning realization-

-that Lore Olympus is basically to the webtoons industry what Youtube Kids is to Youtube.

And I'm not talking about the general "Youtube Kids" label, I'm talking about those videos - Elsagate, Johny Johny, Cocomelon, Mickey Mouse tattooing Spongebob or whatever other weird example you can think of - which are explicitly designed to game the algorithm, turn views into money, and most of all, gain and keep the attention of the one demographic that won't question what they're consuming - children.

!!!!THIS POST HAS FAST PASS SPOILERS AHEAD!!!!

I mean, this is undoubtedly just a tinfoil hat theory, but think about it:

Bright oversaturated colors that are attention-grabbing.

Meme faces and 'lol rAnDoM' humor even when it doesn't suit the situation at all.

Art that's all around ugly and cheap on a technical level but still stands out due to its color design and prioritized advertising.

Vapid surface level scene-to-scene writing that doesn't connect or have any meaning in any coherent way.

One-dimensional projection characters who are easy to manipulate and sway for audience sympathy or anger even if those opinions change on a dime based on actions in the moment.

Cliffhangers that are less like true cliffhangers and more like clickbait. Episodes nowadays tend to be filled with drawn out plotlines, vague hints that can be applied to just about any school of thought, and non-sequitur memes to fill the time until they can hook the reader with another cliffhanger to keep them coming back next week.

Coin prices have gone up but episode length, substance, and quality have noticeably gone down. Even if they reach the same panel count they usually have, dialogue is minimal and pacing is brutally inconsistent to the point that plot progression is often non-existent.

Banner ads that run constantly, often in the first or second (or both) slots, with push notifications and pop-up ads also becoming more frequent whether you're subscribed to the comic or not.

And underneath ALL of that, we've got blatant objectifying and sexualization of female characters regardless of context, misogyny that claims to be progressive, racist undertones, borderline fetish content that constantly toes the Terms of Services line, normalization of problematic/toxic relationship dynamics, a creator who's more interested in 'getting back' at critics than writing an actual story, and underlying messaging both from the characters' and the creator's behavior that encourage witch-hunting, rejection of accountability, and blind devotion.

All this is essentially why I've given up consuming LO entirely, beyond just on a critical level as of late. There was a time long ago when I stuck around in the hopes it was going to get better, that maybe it was just going through a "rough patch" as some stories do. After that I stuck around because I wanted to see how it could possibly pull off its ending. And then after that, I simply stuck around for the laughs and community banter. But now I don't even find it funny anymore, the punchline of how bad it is has gotten incredibly old. And at this rate, as much as we'd like to believe it's going to end in its third season as it's been mentioned in the past, we also were told it was going to end between 100-200 episodes prior to that - the way it's going, I can't even stick around "for the ending" because LO is going to be around for as long as WT tries to milk it, despite it no longer having a heartbeat.

As much as I've loved talking shit about this comic and it's undoubtedly the main reason so many of you followed me here in the first place, I'm not going to lock myself in some kind of purgatory hell just to be proven what I already know is going to happen - either the comic continues on forever, doomed to be a lifeless mascot for the zombie corporation that is WT, or RS eats shit while trying to stick the landing with a plane that has no functional parts.

There's a quote from Caddicarus that I couldn't help but think of as I typed this up, from his nearly-decade-old review of Dalmations 3 (oh god, it's nearly been a decade since that video came out what the actual fuck-)

"And this is where I officially lost all fucking care. I realized it wasn't going to end anytime soon. It's one of those rare instances where the novelty of how awful everything is actually gets really tiresome and unfunny." - Caddicarus

#this isn't me saying i'm not gonna talk about LO ever again #i'm just explaining why i haven't engaged with it directly for weeks now and why my LO essays are less often nowadays #i'm even slowly phasing out of the critical community for it #it's just exhausting #and bad for my mental health #i'd rather put my efforts into something positive like rekindled than continue to give this propaganda on a stick more attention #i still love all the pals in the community but it's more to do with the content itself that's being discussed than the people discussing it #lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #antiloreolympus #lo critical

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hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog · 1 month

Text

Just Breathe- Series

Good evening everyone! here is the second chapter in the Just Breathe Series. This series was inspired/prompted by the ask that was submitted by @deans-spinster-witch to read the first chapter click here for the original post. @deans-spinster-witch was gracious enough to lend her skills in ruffing out a few of the mishaps in chapter one, and I will post that updated version at some point and link it, and did the same for this second chapter.

Here is the original ask for a refresher.

Ask from @deans-spinster-witch:

Tell me about Dean falling in love with a girl who has long covid - maybe they met when he saved her from a monster and they became friends, she occasionally helps him with research or patches him up if he gets hurt. He doesn’t hear from her for a while, and when he goes to check on her, he finds out she’s in the hospital with Covid - a monster he can’t save her from. He realizes he loves her, but may lose her. After she gets out he keeps coming to check on her because he knows she tires easily/has trouble breathing at times.

This second chapter is going to start with a bit of time jump, but don’t worry we got flashback a plenty to fill in the gaps. Multi POV between the main character, Y/N, and Dean Winchester, mentions of Sam Winchester. This is angst, sweet/fluffy, swearing, implied sexy times. Oh and word count is at 7,250-ish, sorry but not sorry.

Sadly the Winchesters are not mine, but the story is so please don’t steal and post as your own. But likes, reblog, and comments are always welcome. As always any mistakes like grammar, spelling, function is also all mine, so be kind when pointing it out, I do my best.

I would like to know if you like this chapter would you want to see a third chapter? or maybe a prequel to answer any questions you might have regarding Y/N and Dean? Let me know.

Thank you again for reading, and you would like to send me a prompted or story idea, send it my way.

Happy Reading

Time Jump to 4 months ahead.

Y/N POV

Shit, Shit, Shit! Where the hell are my keys! You yell out in frustration as you move frantically around your house, looking for the one thing that you need to get to your appointment on time. Tossing the pillows from the couch, goddamn it! You were never like this, ever since COVID, your short term memory has been foggy to put it nicely. Resorting to keeping both a paper list and digital one on your phone, is your new normal. Walking into a room to do something, and instantly forgetting what you came for. Case in point, not remembering where you put your goddamn keys!

You hate running late, you pride yourself on always being early to things, and this appointment was an important one. Walking into the kitchen, you start to look in the not so obvious places. Opening up the fridge, nope not in there. Pull open the freezer next, yep there they are, right next to the pint of mint chip ice cream that you just had to have yesterday at like 11 pm. Only to then be disappointed that you now can’t stand the taste of your once favorite ice cream, fuck you COVID!

Ugh, seriously, you are going to be the death of me, you think. Grabbing your keys, you push the freezer door closed, and head off to the hospital for your fourth month CT scan. Locking the door behind you, the crisp air of fall hits you. God how you don’t want winter to come any sooner then it has too. Winters in Michigan can be brutal, especially on the coast line. Pulling your light jacket close to you, you quicken your pace and get into your jeep to start up the car quickly, and pull out of the driveway. Not noticing the very familiar black impala parked about three houses down.

****

You make it with time to spare, as you wait in the waiting room after checking in, you try your best to calm yourself. Fiddling with your phone, you find that scrolling through Instagram is getting you nowhere and your emails have been radio silent for months now. Exhausted, you put your phone away, you look around the room. For mid morning it's not too busy, the daytime talkshow mixes in with the white noise of the hospital. It's so beige, beige carpet, walls, even the uncomfortable furniture is beige. It makes sense, given it's a hospital; money should be spent on actual patient care, not on the latest interior furnishings., But still, at least get some interesting artwork. Looking to the piece across from you: an abstract painting of paint strokes in grays, blues, and you guessed it, beige.

“Ms. Moore?” The nurse's voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you look up to see her standing at the entryway in blue scrubs, dark brown hair pulled back, with a kind smile.

“Yep” you reply to her, but you're sure she would have guessed that was you, as your head snapped at attention when your name was called. “Hi”, giving her a smile as you walk towards her.

“Hi,” she replies, “can you tell me your last name and date of birth?” She starts walking down the hallway, looking at your chart, the path was second nature for her. You rattle off your last name and birthday for her, then she stops just off from an open doorway, “right in here.” Letting you walk in first.

She takes a seat at a desk, swiping her badge to start keying in some information. “So, here for your four month CT scan.” she states, but it also feels like a question.

“Umm, yeah, it's my second one.” You reply, still getting used to coming to the doctor more than twice a year. You only ever went if you were feeling really sick.

“Looks like the first one was clean, but we like to do a few in close succession when someone has had a severe case of covid.” she explains, her eyes are kind, and reassuring, “I am sure this one will be just as good, and then hopefully the doctor will schedule them farther apart.”

She must see the worry on your face. Not sure how to respond, you just nod your head. She takes your vitals, asks if anything else has changed since your last visit, and if there were any other concerns you wanted to discuss today. “No, I don’t think so.”

Typing a few more things in the computer, and then swapping her badge again to lock the computer. “I am surprised your brother is not here with you today.”

“What?” You're taken aback by this, brother, does she mean Dean? How would she know about him? Was it in your chart? You don’t remember adding him as your emergency contact.

She can tell you are put off by this. “Sorry, I should have re-introduced myself. I was your nurse when you were in here with covid.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, I should have…”

“No, it's fine. Honestly, I wouldn’t expect you to remember me.”

Thinking back to that time, she does seem familiar now, “well it's nice to see you again…” struggling to remember her name quickly, but not inconspicuously looking at her badge, “Bridget.” This gets a laugh out of her, and you do the same. “I was happy to see your name on the schedule today, and I thought you were the one with the very cute, and very attentive brother. That's why I am surprised he is not here.”

Ah yes, Dean, not being here. That is a long, long story that you're sure she does not want, nor has the time to hear right now. You give her a forceful smile, “Yeah, Dean, he has something today, so just me.”

Her smart watch goes off, and she looks at the time, “well we should get you down to CT. After your scan, we will come back here and the doctor will be with you to go over the results.” She gets up, and you follow.

****

The wait feels like forever, and in the small exam room with nothing to look at but an exam table -and beige walls - you were lost in your head. Worrying about what if they found something, what if you developed lesions, or anything that could compromise your health. God, how you wish Dean was here, or even Sam. Someone to hold your hand and distract you from the impending doom and dark thoughts that were creeping in. Dean would distract you with lame jokes, or stories about how Sammy was terrified of doctors. He would get you to smile anyway he could, probably go so far and raid the supplies of tongue depressors and cotton balls, saying something like “they don’t need all of them, do they?”

“Ms. Moore, how are we today?” The doctor's voice breaks up your fleeting thoughts of Dean, as if he was right there, but as soon as the man in the white coat opens the door and steps through, Dean disappears.

“Umm, good, at least I hope so.” You reply, wanting to keep the pleasantries short, let get to the point so you can get out of here.

He takes a look over the file, and then pulls up the scans on the computer. He seems to be taking forever, did he not look at them beforehand! Come on man just tell me already! “Everything looks good, I am not seeing any growth of lesions or scar tissue from the tube.”

Relife floods your body, letting out a sight, “oh that great news, so I am done with coming in?” you hope so, wanting to never see this place again, at least for a while.

He turns to face you, his dark brown eyes are kind, but you can tell right away he is not going to give you the answer you want. “Not yet, but we can push them to every six months.”

Okay, twice a year, I guess that is a compromise you can take, “okay, so I will see you in the spring.” Starting to get up to leave, but he stops you.

“In two months, we can start doing six month visits. I want to see you again one more time in two months. If that scan is clean then we push them to six month visits.” He explains.

You sit back down in defeat, you're going to be back here in two months, really! You know you can’t take your frustration out on him, he is just looking out for your health and doesn’t want to miss anything. “Okay.” Slightly defeated, wanting nothing more than to curl up on the couch, and sleep for the next two months away.

Giving your hands a reassuring pat, “two months will fly by I promise. Is there anything else you want to discuss today? Still having some memory issues?”

You know that you should be honest with him, that you think you have gotten worse since Dean left, but honestly are you sure? He did so much for you in that short time, maybe, you were like this before, and he just didn’t point it out. Plus you just wanted to go home, what really could he do anyways? “Nothing new on that. I think I just need to get back to my normal routine and I will be fine.”

Getting up from his chair, “Sounds good. I will send Bridget back in, she will get you set up for your next appointment. We will see you in two months. Have a good day.” shutting the door behind him. You're back alone in that quiet room.

Alone, you're alone, once again. You can feel the panic start to creep in. Alone, and even though the scan was good, he still wants you to come back. Alone, no one to hold your hand, no one to make stupid jokes. You did this to yourself, you know that, he would have stayed, you pushed him…

“Alright, Doctor says two months humm.” Bridget's voice breaks through. It's light and airy. Trying to make the situation as pleasant as possible. As soon as she sits down, she can tell you're not alright, “Hey, what's wrong?” She asks, setting down the chart, and focusing on you.

Feeling a tear run down your cheek, fuck why are you crying. “Umm…it's nothing….yeah two months…” You take a ragged breath, pushing all your emotions down, down, down, to the deepest part of your soul where they should always live. You can cry when you get home. Suck it up for two more minutes!

“Hey, talk to me, what’s going on.” She is not letting you wash this away, she grabs the tissue box, and holds it out for you to pull a couple out of the box. “Your scan was clean, the doctor is just being cautious that's all.”

“I know it's just…I really wish he was here….”

“Dean,” she replies, filling in the blanks. You nod at this, and wipe your eyes and face. “I am sure if you talk to him, he will come to the next appointment.”

Oh if she only knew, but you couldn’t lay this all out on a complete stranger. Again she just wants to do her job, and move on to the next patient, you're taking up too much of her time. “I am sure you're right.” Taking a few ragged breaths.

She gives you a reassuring smile, and turns to the computer to book your appointment, reminding you that you can always change it to accommodate if Dean can’t make it this time. “I could tell he really cares for you. Even in the short time I saw him, he wouldn’t leave your side for anything. Practically had to kick him out every night when visiting hours were over.” Trying to make the situation light, and hopefully get a smile back on your face.

Giving her a short laugh, “yeah that sounds like Dean.” You can see it, him waiting until the last possible second. A security guard to escort him out.

Both of you get up, and she walks you to the door, and down the hall towards the exit. Seeing you coming back around, she decides to let you in on a little secret. Stopping you before opening up the door to the waiting room she leans in slightly. “Just between you and me, I knew he wasn’t your brother.”

“What….I mean…no he is….” You stammer out, hoping that she wasn’t going to bust you for…something, you're not sure? But still not wanting to get into trouble.

“Don’t worry dear, it's fine.” She quickly replies, trying to calm your fears.

You let out a sigh of relief, “How did you know?”

“Two things. One he just pulled on my heartstrings so much that I figured what would be the harm in him sticking around, even if he wasn’t related. Plus, if I was ever lucky enough to have a guy look at me the way he did to you, I would want him to be by my side every second.”

Her smile is contagious, and although you're still doubting that what you feel for Dean would ever be reciprocated, now is not the time to hash it out with her. “What was the second?”

“I may have heard him one night on the phone with someone, saying he couldn’t lose you, that he needed to tell you that he was in love with you.'' She says matter of factly, pushing the door open and waiting for you to walk through.

*******

Dean POV

He watches as she pulls into the driveway and shuts off the car. He had followed her from a safe distance from the hospital to the store, and then back to her house. She didn’t notice once, even though he had taught her in the past how to spot a tail. Did she get bad news? Maybe it's the COVID that is affecting her hunter instincts? Fuck, if thats the case, what else could she be missing? Is it stupid and desperate of him to be following her, and watching from a distance? Maybe, but also not, if she is not noticing simple things like him following her. What if Lucifer, or one of his henchmen, came after her? Anxiety just thinking of irrational attacks on you causes his chest to tighten as he pulls back into the parking spot a few houses down.

He should be a man and go up to you, talk to you, and see you face to face. He missed you, your smile, your laugh - fuck, everything about you. He knows he screwed up. As soon as he did what he did, he wished he could have taken it back, but the damage was done. He kept saying it was for the best, that you would forgive him, and move on. But you can’t forgive him unless he stops being a little stalker and owns up to what he did.

Flashback to the night of the big blowup. Dean POV

Standing there, staring down the closed door, you wish right now you had superpowers to see through the door and see if she’s alright. Hell, you don’t need to be a superhero to know she’s not. You're just wondering what brought this on. “Y/N, come on, talk to me” you plead, softly knocking on the door. “I am sorry…I don’t mean to…” your rambling stops when you hear soft sobs from the otherside of the door.

“Just go away Dean!” She yells between sobs. “I can’t breathe with you here… I can’t…”

You grab the door knob, fear and pressure weighing down on you to get to her, to hold her. Most importantly, to make her understand that your overbearing protectiveness is coming from a place of needing to be in control, that you care for her, and need to protect her “Y/N, please just open the door, let's talk? I promise I will ease up, I can do better.”

You can hear her give a small laugh at that, you're about to question her on this when your phone goes off. Screw it, let it go to voicemail, she is more important than anything else. “I am not giving up on you, on us. You have to come out eventually.”

Your phone stops ringing for a second and then starts back up again. What the Hell? “You should answer that, Dean.” She states without hesitation, but with an undertone of sadness.

Letting out a sigh, you turn around. “Fine if you want to talk via phone, fine.” Walking away from her door into the living room, you pick up your phone from the coffee table. To your surprise it's not her name across the screen, but Sam’s. “What?” you bark out in frustration, not really wanting to talk with him right now.

“Dean, back off.” Sam says matter of factly. No pleasantries, just straight to the point.

“She called you? Why?” Confused as to why she is including Sam on this.

“She just needs some space, Dean, I think it's time you come back. Jody called and…” Sam calmly says, trying his best to diffuse the situation from the other side of the country.

“No, Sam, I am not leaving her! I can’t lose her again, I won’t… I love her, man…”

Your back is to the hallway, so you don’t notice Y/N standing there, listening, hearing what you should be confessing to her and not your brother. You don’t see her wondering why can’t you just say what you feel? Why can’t you just let down your guard with her and tell her?

*****

The slamming of a trunk pulls Dean back to the present, and he looks up to see you carrying an arm load of groceries. Of course you would do it in one trip. He shakes his head, remembering that you never like to take more than one trip from the car to the house. Your logic always being, as you told him, I am a single girl, I can do it in one go. He watched as you held the screen door open with your butt, as you switched all the bags to one arm so you could open the door with the other. Looking away once you're inside, Dean notices it’s about 20 minutes since you pulled in the driveway. Had you been sitting there this whole time? You have only gone to the hospital and store, but still your energy must not be back to what it used to be.

Maybe he should check, make sure you're doing okay. Look in the window really quick. Getting out of the car and walking the short distance, he looks over to your car to see that you still had some toilet paper and paper towels in the back seat. Knowing that you would be back, he decides to help you out. Opening up the door as quietly as possible he grabs the items, and takes them up to the door. Putting them in between the screen door and main door, he turns around to leave.

His eyes look in the kitchen window, to see you putting away your items. Your back is to him, so you don’t notice. You seem lost in your own world, on auto pilot putting things away. Dean takes a moment to appreciate that he can see you up close. His eyes scan the room, noticing the post-it notes all over. He never remembers you having so many of them before. He can’t read what they say, but they are everywhere; on the cabinets, counter tops, table, Was your memory getting worse?

Panic, and anger - at himself more than anything - sets in.

*******

Y/N POV

“I love her Sam, I am in love with her…I can’t…no I won’t lose her, I need to tell her how I feel…”

“You don’t love me, Winchester” your voice stops Dean from rambling on the lies that you know, in the end, he doesn’t mean.

Dean turns to see you standing there, your eyes red from crying. But you're not crying now; no, now you look pissed, like you want to kick some ass - and Dean’s is the closest one. “Got to go Sam.” Dean quickly says, ending the call. “What do you mean I don’t love you. Of course I do, I….”

You hold up a hand, and stop Dean from saying anything more. “No, you don’t. People like me, we don’t have sexy knights to save us. To fall in love with us, to whisk us away, and want to play house with.” Determine to get this all out, to get your point across and make him accept reality.

“We are your best friend, the girl you call on Friday nights when your date falls through, or you strike out with the bartender. We are your ‘wing woman’, we pick you up, dust you off, and send you back out into the world. We build your confidence up, while we sit on the sidelines alone.”

“Y/N that's not true…” Dean starts to protest.

“Let me finish, I have to get this out.” taking a breath, you can see he’s hurt, that he wants to argue, to explain his side. “Yes, you care for me, but you don’t love me, and you're not In love with me. You're in love with this idea of a life outside of hunting, you love the idea of playing house.” Closing the gap between you, even though you know better than to get this close to him. You're playing with fire, but you're desperate to feel him.

“You're right, I am in love with the idea of an apple pie life. But I want that life with you, no one else.” Dean interjects before you can shut him down, shut down what is going on between you two before it can even start.

Taking a chance, he grabs your hand and brings it up to his chest and places it over his heart. “Can’t you feel my heart? It’s racing for you. It always has, it always will.”

Feeling the softness of the white t-shirt between your fingers, you take a breath and inhale the smell of him. “Sooner or later we both know this won’t be enough, that I won’t be enough.” You talk to his chest, not wanting or able to look him in the eye, your voice low and shaky. “You're going to leave me, sideline me, and only blow through town when you need something.”

“That's not true! You have always wanted your own life. I always wanted to protect you as much as I could. The things that Sam and I deal with, the people and monsters we hunt, if anything ever happens…you are a vulnerability that they will exploit. I know it.”

“Maybe. Even more reason why you have to go…and never come back…” Glancing up to see the gut punch you just delivered written on his face. You try to take a step back.

Dean won’t let you go, bringing a hand around your waist, holding you. “What?! No! I won’t cut you out of my life. I now know I was stupid for ever doing that. For letting you live alone, or at the very least, not in the same state as the bunker.” He practically commands, with no hesitation. How could you think he would ever agree to this?

“Y/N, I need you in my life. You can’t deny that there is something between us.” His words are sweet, his voice is low as he leans into you. His breath fans over your face, as his hands caress your cheek. “Please, I need you.”

His lips are so close to yours, that if you lean ever so slightly, you would finally know how soft his lips are. Would they fulfill your fantasies? God, maybe you should live in this fantasy for as long as you can, screw being logical. Let it be a future Y/N problem, present Y/N wants to know what it's like to be wanted by Dean Winchester. “I…Dean…”

*******

Y/N and Dean POV

“Dean, what are you doing here?” Your voice pulls him from the memory of that night, and he looks to see you standing at the door, one hand holding open the screen door.

Oh fuck, well, this wasn’t the plan at all. Giving her a smile, “Hey Y/N, I was in the neighborhood…thought I would…”

“So you're stalking me now?”

“Hehe, no, I said I was in the neighborhood, wanted to see how you are…you look good.” He says, letting his eyes look at you. You did look good, but tired, your eyes didn’t shine like they normally did before; the spark, the hint of twinkle is gone.

“Liar, I look like shit, but thanks.” You quip, knowing that you don’t look good at all. Wearing a ratty hoodie and jeans, you opted for comfort over trying to impress anyone. “Well, thanks for stopping by.” You say, giving him a fake smile and turning to walk back in the house.

“Umm…Y/N, I could, I mean Sam could use your help with something, he knew I was going to be passing through and wanted me to stop by and ask for some help.” Quickly thinking on his feet, he creates an excuse. He didn’t want to leave yet, this is the most he has talked to you since that night. He would be damned if he was going to let you leave so soon.

You turn back to look at Dean, trying to gauge if he was telling the truth or not. Sam had your number, and you were still speaking to the younger Winchester - he didn’t break your heart and live up to everything you knew would happen. “Why didn’t he call me?” You question, wanting to make Dean work for it. He wasn’t getting in that easy!

He takes a few steps towards you, “well, like I said, he knew I was in the area.” One step lower from you, his green eyes lock with yours, silently pleading with you to let him in. “He wanted me to pick up a lore book on Pixies, and said you had a copy that we don't have in the library.”

“Fine, come in. I will go grab it.” You reply, turning away from him, letting him catch the door before it slams in his face.

Dean shucks off his jacket and boots, and looks around while you go back to find the book. He can now see the post-its in detail, reminding you where your keys, jacket, bag should be put. Making his way to the kitchen, cabinets are labeled with what should be in them: dry food, dishes, silverware. Daily schedule on the fridge. “Having fun snooping?” Your sarcastic tone has him turning on his heels to see you standing in the doorway with a book in hand.

“Umm…sorry…” he says sheepishly, hating that he got caught. He can see you're not amused, and he is really going to have to lay on the charm to win you back.

“Yeah, well at least I am keeping the post-it company in business. Here is the book.” You say handing it to him.

Dean takes it, and looks at it, giving it a nod, “Thanks, yep this is it.”

“Okay, well, you better get going, since Sam is in ‘desperate’ need of it and all.” Your voice is flat, not in the mood to deal with him. “You know where the door is.” You add, just turning that knife even deeper.

“Look, Y/N can we talk?” Dean can tell you're not your usual self, and he really wants to get you back.

“Oh now you want to talk? You sure as hell didn’t want to talk for four months. Didn’t want to talk when you woke up the next morning regretting that kiss, regretting what we said to each other, the promises you made.” You snap at him, the frustration building in you. Why does it always have to be on his time? God you were just getting over him, right?

“I know. I was a jerk, it was a dick move, and I am sorry.”

“You're sorry, really?That's all you have to say?” Turning away from him, just looking at him and his sad puppy dog face, you want to smack him. Fuck, you want to hit yourself for being an idiot that night.

******

“Dean…please…I…” You have to keep strong, tell him to go, you know this won’t end well.

“Please Y/N, You're the only good thing I have in this world, I can’t lose you.” Not waiting for a reply, his lips find yours.

They're soft, perfect, molded to fit yours, and gentle, Dean doesn’t force his way. Pulling away, when your lungs start to burn,you lock eyes with him. Lust blown, his lips slightly pink. No words are exchanged, you silently say everything you need to him at that moment, and he seems to understand. Bringing his hands to cup your face, he goes back in to kiss you more, letting his tongue swipe across your lips. You allow his tongue to dance with yours.

Fumbling your way to the couch, Dean falls back first, and you do your best not to land on top of him completely, giggling at the state you're both in. Dean looks up at you, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear, and looking up at you lovingly, “God, I love that laugh of yours.” He says, pulling you down on him. Letting you feel what you're doing to him.

“Dean, I have to be crushing you.” You protest, trying your best but failing at getting out of the vice grip Dean has on your hips.

“Nope, You're staying right here.” He says, as he starts to pepper kisses down your neck.

******

“Dean, I begged you to leave! I knew you never wanted me! And yet like an idiot, I fell for your charm and under your spell.” You grit out, turning on your heels and walking away from him. Fuck, you can’t keep doing this!

“I did ... .I do ...Y/N look at me” Dean pleads, setting the book down he follows you to the living room, grabbing your hand. “Please, let me explain.”

Turning around, you pull your hand back. His touch, like fire, like touching a hot pan. “You know, I thought for a split second you were telling me the truth. That you wanted me like I have always wanted you.” Pain radiates through you, your voice seems to be stuck behind a lump forming in your throat. God, you want to smack him, but at the same time, kiss him.

Dean’s speechless, trying to work out how best to tell you what he was thinking in that split second when he woke up in your arms that day. For one second he felt total bliss, that everything was falling into place; then reality of his life came back into focus.

“I know, it wasn’t my finest hour.”

You laugh at this, you think!? “What is there to explain? We kissed, had a pretty good makeout, groped each other over and under our clothes, but then we both agreed to take it slow. Right?” You ask for confirmation, even though you remember it all too well.

“Yes, but, Y/N, if you just let me…” Dean stumbles to explain.

“But then, I wake up the next morning alone on the couch with a note that says, ‘Hey, Y/N, Sorry, Sammy needs me, will check in soon.’”

The space between you two is nonexistent. You're trying to find anything in those green eyes of his that will refute anything you just said. Anything to explain that you're overreacting, but there is nothing. He has no rebuttal, because it's all true. He walked out on you, like his father did to him and Sam all the time. The worst part was, Dean had Sam to lean on; you were left with no one.

“Like I said, not my finest hour…” he mumbles out.

“Not your goddamn finest hour?ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!” you yell, slamming your fists into his chest and pushing him away. It does nothing to move him, and takes all your energy out of you. You stumble a bit, then lean back and sit on the arm of the couch.

“Hey, Y/N, please, calm down.'' His voice is heavy with concern, and he tries to help you up so you can sit on the couch.

“Don’t…touch…me…” You cough out. Needing water, you look to find your water bottle is nowhere. “Fuck….I…” You keep coughing, and try to get up.

“Water?” Dean questions. You nod, and try to get back up. “No, sit, I will go get it.” He tells you and quickly goes to the kitchen, and is back with a glass of water in seconds.

You down about half, the cool water helps calm you and your coughing fits. “Thanks” you mumble, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that he ‘saved you again.’ You don’t look at him as you sit down the glass and avoid him at all costs.

Dean takes this as his opportunity to tell you his side. Sitting on the coffee table so he has direct eye contact with you, he reaches for your hand. “Please, Y/N, I am truly sorry. I know I was a jerk for leaving you like that, and for never calling or coming back.”

You stare him down, not giving him an out on this one. “Go on. You will hear no objection from me on this one.” You reply.

Dean lets out a small sigh that clearly said fuck, alright here we go. “I was fucking scared, okay? I woke up, saw you in my arms, and for a split second I felt like I was home. My first thought was, this is perfection. No monster, no running the roads, crappy dinner food, and sketchy motels.”

He leans towards you, putting a hand on your knee, and lightly runs his hands up and gives you a knowing smile. “The perfect, sexy, beautiful, girl in my arms, that I can’t wait to wake up and…”

You stop his hand from getting too close to what both you and him want to touch. “Not so fast Winchester.” Knowing if he keeps going, you are definitely going to end up in a very compromising position. “No, I bet your first thought was, oh fuck what the hell did I do, and how the hell do I get out of it.”

“No, will you let me talk?. God, I see COVID can take your memory, but not your self-hatred or inability to butt in.”

You hold your hands up in a fake defense, “Please go on.” You quip back, leaning back into the couch.

Dean shakes his head, at least you’re sassing back, that is a good sign. “I got up, was going to start coffee for us, and while I was in the kitchen, Sam did call…

*******

“Hey Sammy,”

“How’s everything Dean, you kinda left me hanging? Did you and Y/N talk?” Sam asks, feeling like a schoolgirl catching up on the latest gossip between you too.

Dean takes a quick peek into the living room to make sure you're still asleep. “Yeah, everything is good. We talked and I think we are going to take things slow.” Dean explains, as he starts to make the coffee, he recounts most of the conversation between you two. Not all the details though, he wants to keep the really good stuff just for him.

Sam lets out a sigh, “That's good, I am happy for you both. But now I hate to ask.”

“What is it?”

“Look, I know you still want to take some time, until Y/N is fully healed, but Jody could really use your help. There is something in South Dakota that is running amuck, and she’s worried that Claire is going to try and tackle it herself.”

Oh Claire, how she reminds Dean of himself sometimes, headstrong and just ready to fight anything that wasn’t human. She is a good hunter, but she is young. “Umm…yeah…I am sure I can make something work….”

“Thanks Dean, I am sure it will only be a day or two, and then you can get back to Y/N. I will call Jody and tell her to expect you.” Sam says.

Saying their goodbyes, Dean hangs up the phone, and has to hold back from throwing it across the room in anger. Fuck! Not two seconds, and he’s already been pulled back into the madness. How is he going to explain this to her? She won’t believe him, she will be heartbroken again, think it's her fault, and say that she told him.

Seeing no other solution - or maybe it was that he didn’t want to wake you and see that pain in your eyes - he takes the cowardly way out.

*****

“So you went to help Jody, a friend of mine. And didn’t think I would understand?” You question him, after he explains the conversation between him and Sam.

“Yes…I guess I figure you would just see it as an excuse I came up with to leave you. Which it wasn’t, by the way.”

“But you said you would call, check in. But you didn’t! You couldn’t have been helping Jody this whole time? And even if you were, could you still have called!”

“I wanted to, but as I was driving away, I kept thinking about what you said, that you felt like an afterthought, that I blow through town whenever I need you. Take what I need and leave you with nothing.”

“So you figure, prove me right by ghosting me? Well, thanks Winchester, real fun.” You spit sarcastically, giving his knee a not-so-playful slap and getting up from the couch. “The door is still where you left it, you can see yourself out.” Fucking asshole. I need to get those locks changed tomorrow. You think, making your way to the kitchen to get some more water, to do anything but sit there and keep listening to him.

“Y/N, please. I am sorry, you're not an afterthought. The more that I kept driving, and the longer I pushed off calling you, it made it harder to call you. Because I knew as soon as I did I would lose you.”

“Funny, because the second you left, you lost me Dean. God, I woke up that morning and was devastated. Do you know how much I hate feeling like that?” Not needing him to answer, you lean up against the counter crossing your arms around yourself. Feeling the tears start to fall, you might as well go all the way.

“You know, I never wanted to be that girl, who cried over a guy, who refused to do anything but sleep on that goddamn couch for two months because it was the last place I felt safe, and whole, and seen. I could still smell you on the pillows and blanket.”

Taking a breath, you run your hands over your face. Taking another ragged breath, you work up the courage to tell him what you know he should know, but that you're scared to say out loud. “But the thing I hate the most, the one thing that makes me want to scream…is that I still love you.” You laugh at this. Its fucking absurd. Trying your best to stifle your laughter, but it keeps bubbling out of you in frustration and disbelief

Dean’s not sure how to react. On the one hand, you say that you still love him, but on the other hand your laughing like the fucking Joker. “Being in love with me is…funny?” he tentatively asks. Taking a few steps towards you, but not closing the distance.

Wiping the tears from your face, you admit quietly, “yes, because I know, no matter what, I will always let you back in. I guess I am just a masochist that way. I would rather have you in my life, and be heartbroken, than to not have you and still be heartbroken.”

Shaking your head, in disbelief that you actually said those words out loud, and to Dean no less. You look up to see him watching you, waiting. “God I am pathetic…you really should not have saved me that night…” you mumble the last part to yourself. Pushing yourself off the counter, you turn away from him, to straighten up the non-existent mess on the counter. Shit, should not have said that.

“GOD DAMN IT Y/N!” Dean’s yell booms, causing you to turn around to see Dean seething with rage. Taking the last few steps towards you, he pulls you into a vice grip of a hold. “Don’t you ever say that again, do you hear me? Do you?” He commands, shaking with hurt and pain.

He’s not angry at you, he's angry that you don’t understand how much you mean to him. That you hold your life as something subpar. Pulling away slightly, he lets go so he can hold your face in his hands. “Please don’t ever think or say that I shouldn’t have saved you that night.” His green eyes, glassy with tears about to be shed, bore into yours. “You are the only good thing in my life, and I know I have a lot of work to do to gain your trust back, and that my life is messy and chaotic, but please…please….don’t ever think I would regret saving you that night.”

You nod your head in response. “Okay” you whisper, “I promise.” You were taken aback by his outburst; Dean has never raised his voice to you, or looked this broken. Then again, you’ve never been this broken, or joked about that night before either. It was a topic that neither of you ever really discussed, more of an unspoken bond between you two.

Relief seems to wash over him. His hands fall from your face, his arms wrapping them around your waist, not wanting to leave the closeness of you. “I know I have a lot of work to do, and this may be pushing my luck. But can I kiss you?” Giving you a half smile, hoping that will seal the deal.

“Fuck, there’s that Winchester charm,” you joke, smirking as well. Screw it, it's been four months without those lips. You lean in and kiss him. Letting your lips dance with his for a bit, you pull back, “just as good and I remember.” you say cheekily.

“So, should we go make some new memories on that couch of yours?” Dean gives you a wink, walking backwards towards the living room, his arms still around yours.

You have no choice but to follow him, nodding. You know that you have a lot of work to do getting over your own insecurities and self doubt that Dean will get tired of you, or that he will regret being with you. You need to have faith in him, and in yourself, that you are worthy of a happy life with him; whatever that looks like.

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lelalyo · 3 months

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Wyll doesn't just deserve more content, he deserves better content, in my humble opinion.

I know a lot of people were concerned about the change of category (is that the proper phrase?) about the Ansur part of his quest but I feel like that part needs changing to a degree. Primarily because it doesn't feel very Wyll specific.

I feel like it focuses more on how the Emperor is a scumbag then anything to do with Wyll.

I'm not a writer by any stretch of the imagination but I feel like you could've still had that confrontation with Ansur and the Emperor and had something that tied to Wyll like after you fight him, maybe Ansur sees some of himself in Wyll - a loyal protector - a strong guardian - a man of morals and maybe Ansur decides he doesn't want history to repeat itself. He doesn't want someone else to fall victim to the Emperor again so he gifts Wyll power or a weapon or something that could put him on par with Mizora so he doesn't need her help anymore.

He held out, he endured, he stayed true to himself and finally, someone recognizes that, truly acknowledges his efforts and now he has power that is truly his, that he earned in his own right by being who he is.

Maybe then you could tie that into a climax, a final confrontation with Mizora. Maybe instead of killing his father in the Iron Throne, she simply kidnaps him from there before before you arrive to make Wyll panic that we were too late and something has happened to his father.

Maybe Mizora appears at camp with his father as a bargaining chip, mocks him for going on a wild goose chase and how amusing it was to watch. She could threaten his father to make Wyll more compliant, to try force him to resign the pact but this time is different.

This time Wyll, the Blade of Frontiers, isn't the one who's at a disadvantage. Maybe you could have a Durge vs Orin situation - a 1v1, duel to the death with strict rules of engagement to be fraught at the foot of the hill where this all began - if Mizora wins, Wyll resigns and can never break free from the hells. If Wyll wins, Mizora dies and his father goes free.

Maybe Mizora uses a loop hole in the duel's rules to cheat when she's near defeat and that's when you and the rest of your party jump in to keep Mizora's lackeys at bay while Wyll finishes her off and then a cutscene of the final blow, of Wyll's victory. Finally, he's a free man and his father sees him for who he is. His actions said everything they needed to.

I don't know, like I said, not a writer in any capacity and I feel like I'm just getting lost in my own musing - there's lots of things I didn't consider, like surely a situation like this would have point holes everywhere, especially since I don't know the first thing about DnD and it's lore but my original point was that I feel like Wyll needs a moment - that character defining moment that most of the other characters have - that time for him because he is a good character, I really like him and I hope that Larian listens.

I appreciate all the hard work they do with all the patches, never doubt that but I've always felt like Wyll's story needs more attention and it is important - he's a main character, an origin, he's a key feature of the game and that should take priority.

I love all the new features that they add (to a degree) but this is a core issue and I'd much prefer they work on the things that matter and add the fluff later.

Just my two cents though, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

Edit: I just remembered that devils go back to the hells when they die top side, right? (See, what did I say? Plot holes) but maybe it wouldn't matter since Wyll would've lived a long life by the time Mizora pops up again. Maybe she swears revenge on the Ravengard's and bam, plot for the next game. If there is one. LMAO

#Baldur's Gate 3 #BG3 #Wyll Ravengard #The Blade of Frontiers #BG3 Mizora #Mizora

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smolghostbot · 4 months

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Patchwork Melody - Summer

Part two of the four-part story, the part where Patch and Melody are forced together into their "status quo". Link to part one here. Dashes denote a POV change.

Word Count: 7.2k! I think this is the longest part, but boy it's a little bit long I'm sorry... CWs: The main "conflict" of this chapter is confronting Patch's past abuse. So. Yeah. No explicit details are given for any actions, but kidnapping, physical contact, and scars are mentioned. There's also a brief onset of a panic attack, though it doesn't progress as much as the one in Spring.

Tag list: @gt-daboss @reborrowing

=====

Part 1

Patch stared up at the human, who seemed to have a slightly different eye color (maybe a trick of the light?), but was unmistakably Melody, the human who had allegedly “accidentally” kidnapped them not two weeks prior. The human was wearing a bright yellow sundress, contrasting the somewhat dark and dingy alley… and making it frankly embarrassing that the sprite is just now noticing them. Seriously? This human is big even by their standards, how do they keep sneaking up on me like this!?

While they could try to run, should try to run, they instead felt compelled to give a single small head nod, silently giving the human a chance to say whatever they want. With their arm feeling better, and knowing their enemy this time, they'd be able to escape a bit easier if push came to shove… hopefully.

Melody started off by asking a simple question, "How, uh… I guess you're still hanging around here, huh?", which garnered a simple cautious nod from Patch.

"Oh, cool. Um, have you… been by my door at all? Not like, in a weird way, but…" Melody trailed off, as Patch nodded their head, getting a surprised reaction from Mel.

"Oh! You have! Did you, um, get any of the apples? I was wondering if I was feeding you or just the local rats, y'know…" Patch gave another simple nod, this time accompanied by a soft bow.

"Nice! I'm… glad I could help you out. Is your arm feeling better?" Patch remained still at this question, afraid of giving away their secret defense.

"That's fine, you don't have to answer. So… you don't have to answer this either, but, if you're still around here, maybe we could… meet up again? On better terms. Maybe… tomorrow evening, at sunset. By my porch? We can both sit as far apart as you want and I could maybe just, ask some questions? You don't have to agree now or anything and I totally get it if you don't want to. But I just… I feel this need to make it up to you. I know, I know, I'm acknowledging a debt, but… there is one. I'll, uh, bring snacks, too."

Patch was silent, thinking about this. The human could easily catch up to them again, why would they set a trap like this? Why even lure them back in after freeing them? To savor the betrayal? Was this some kind of long con? No. She didn't know I was here. That face was clearly one of surprise. What's the plan here?

"Okay, well… this alleyway, uh, is kind of dark and sucks, and not super safe for me to just be standing around in… so I'm just… gonna go inside now”, Melody stated, with an air of awkwardness in her tone, as if coming up with an excuse on the spot, “But just… remember what I said. Sunset, front porch."

And with that, Patch watched in curiosity as she walked away from them, again.

The next evening, against their better judgment, the sprite made their way to the apartment door they recognized from the little flower bed outside of it, where they had been abducted previously. Why am I here? I shouldn’t be here… but she did promise food, they reasoned, and food was in short supply at the moment.

Sure enough, Melody was sitting there, on the ground, wearing an outfit similar to when they first met, though the shirt had a different figure on it. Unsure how to make their presence known, Patch walked closer to the human, fear in every step as they looked around, worried not only about Melody spotting them, but any other humans as well. As usual for this area, nobody tended to walk around, which was good. After all, that's why the sprite had set up shop around this building anyways.

Patch's thoughts were interrupted as Melody called out to them, her voice soft yet projecting, "Oh, it's you! You actually showed up!"

Patch awkwardly took a few steps back, keeping well more than a human arm's length between them, which caused the human to sigh softly.

"Okay, if that's where you're comfortable. I promised snacks, so here you go, I was out of apples so I figured a pear slice might be good? To be honest, I don't know what you actually eat… maybe you could tell me, and I could bring that next time?"

Mel gently placed the pear slice as far away from themself as possible, and watched as Patch walked over and tried to drag it just a little bit farther away.

Patch nodded and bowed as they began to take bites of the fresh fruit, once again eating around the skin of the fruit, which Mel watched with fascination.

"So… I noticed you never eat the skin of the fruits… should I peel them for you next time? If… If there is a next time." At that, Patch nodded.

"Oh, that reminds me, sorry, um, so I don't know if this helps, but, I figured since you can't talk, we could communicate like this!" Mel said, as she picked up a notepad next to her and reached out to place it near where the pear slice was placed. Once again, Patch tried to pull it even farther out of reach, but when they failed to move the heavy notepad, Mel took the initiative and scooted themself away from the small figure slightly.

"You can draw on there, I have a pencil if you need it, I could maybe break off a piece of the lead for you?"

Immediately, Patch's eyes lit up, and they swung their backpack over their (better) shoulder, reaching into the bag and pulling out their own little piece of pencil lead.

"Oh! You just, uh… had that, huh? Okay. Well then… What does your kind eat? So I can get you more types of food, if you want to keep doing, you know, this."

Patch started drawing at once, doodling little drawings that Mel couldn't quite make out from how far away she was sitting. After the little being stopped drawing, he stepped away from the notepad, and resumed eating the pear after putting the pencil lead away. Melody took the chance to scoot forward again and grab the notepad. Looking over the drawings, she was amazed at the quality, considering how fast Patch drew the figures on the page. Several different fruits, vegetables, and grains that Mel recognized were drawn, as well as some things that she wouldn't expect, grass, flower petals, and seeds that she couldn't identify. "I see… so you eat plants… are you some kind of herbivore?"

The confusion on Patch's face was obvious, even from the distance Melody was sitting. Once again, she chuckled as his little head tilted in confusion, his large ears flopping a bit as he did. "Sorry, a herbivore is a type of animal that eats plants. Like, they don't eat other animals or bugs or anything. Is that right?

Patch nodded affirmatively as they finished eating the slice of pear. Afterwards, they cautiously began to back away, having fulfilled the deal of answering a question in exchange for food.

"Ah… okay, I guess I get one question a day, then? Fair enough, if you want to answer one question for a snack then that works. Um… I'll be here tomorrow, too, if you want more. I'll try to bring something different, too, and make sure you get lots of different foods to eat."

Melody stood up, startling Patch, who began to back up faster, before they noticed that the human was moving towards her building's door. "See you tomorrow, then?"

The sprite cautiously nodded their head yes as they turned and left.

For the next several weeks, this pattern continued, with Patch showing up to Melody's patio every day to answer another question in exchange for a piece of fresh food. Throughout those weeks, Melody learned much more about the little being and his people. He was an adult, yet only ten years old, apparently about the equivalent of being in his early 20s. He enjoyed drawing, and had a real talent for it. His people live around humans normally, and scavenge things that the humans don’t need in order to survive, but Patch wouldn't elaborate on why they did that. For every answered question, the curious human had three more. Even despite that, Melody had grown to appreciate these little talks, though each one was only a few minutes long at best. And, the best part to her was that Patch seemed to be slowly growing more comfortable around her, no longer quite as skittish as he had been earlier in the summer.

As Melody sat at work, looking through the notepad and reminiscing about the previous weeks, remembering each conversation based on the drawing, she was already thinking about more questions to ask her new friend. There were still a few unanswered questions that she wanted answered, but wasn’t sure how to ask. After all, she was still terrified of losing the trust she was slowly building with this tiny creature, that she still couldn’t name. Her new little friend could draw most things, but she still couldn’t decipher the writing system he used. Research at work had given no results, which was maybe to be expected when dealing with a mysterious secretive being, but still. Melody would have killed to know what her new friend was, and what their real name was.

Part 2

“Hey Patch! I wasn’t sure if you were going to show up today, with how cloudy it is. Guess I’m just that irresistible, huh?” Melody said with a wink, as Patch rolled his eyes. In truth, the sprite was counting on Melody bringing food today, they had no luck scavenging recently… not that they would tell the human that.

“I’m just kidding, don’t worry. Anyways, I wasn’t sure what to bring today, but I got some berries at the store, and figured you could bring the leftovers home with you!” At that, Melody placed a few berries near the sprite, a couple of raspberries, blueberries, and most tantalizing of all to Patch, a strawberry, almost half the size of the sprite. He wasted no time taking the berries, wrapping each one in fabric, and shoving them into his backpack, before grabbing a tiny knife out of his bag and beginning to cut into the strawberry.

“Woah, okay, berries was a good idea then. But hold on, you know the deal, now I get to ask a question. And, I was thinking today I would maybe ask a tough question, so if you don’t want to answer it just let me know and I’ll ask a backup question.”

Ah, there’s the catch, thought the sprite, who had been thinking that this was too good to be true. Still, in the spirit of not offending the human, they waited to hear out her question.

“So… you’ve told me a lot about your kind, but I want to know more about you. So… what’s your story? When we, uh… first met, you mentioned another human who was, um… not nice. What happened there?”

Patch was as still as a statue as they heard the question. The sprite had done a good job of almost forgetting about them, and now they were being asked to describe them… how to even begin to sum up that time… and in drawings, no less. They would struggle to even speak about it, if that was an option for the mute sprite.

An awkward moment passed between the two, with Patch frozen in deep thought, before Mel started to worry that they had offended their little friend. “Okay, okay, no worries, uhh I had the backup question, remember? New question, forget about that person. No need to bring up bad memories. Um… so… do you have a favorite animal?”

The unamused expression on Patch’s face made it clear that he caught her bluff about the question being planned in advance, but regardless, he relented and motioned for the notepad. After he finished drawing, Mel noticed Patch continuing to mark something, this time on the back of the page. She paid it no mind, figuring he would show her when he finished, but she was surprised when Patch folded the page back over as if nothing happened. Getting the idea, Melody decided to ignore it, figuring she would check it later.

“Okay, so what do we have here… Oh my gosh, is this what I think it is?” Melody cried with delight as she took in the drawing of one of Patch’s kind, distinguished by the giant ears, riding on either a rat or mouse (Melody couldn’t tell), wearing some kind of saddle and harness, as if it were a mount. “Do… do your people ride on rodents like this for real?”, she said, awe in her eyes. As Patch nodded yes, Melody began to squeal with excitement. “Oh my gosh, that’s adorable! Do you have a little mouse friend?” Patch shook his head no, but Mel continued to coo at the idea. “Oh, that would be the most precious thing ever!”

Finally, after the human calmed down, a silence overcame the both of them as Melody watched the little being eat the strawberry with fascination. Patch ate individual seeds, dipping them in the juice of the strawberry. It was fascinating to Melody, but the look they got from Patch told her that their staring was making him uncomfortable. “Oops, sorry, sorry. I just can’t help it, you’re so cute when you eat! But I’ll mind my own business, sorry.”

After eating almost half of the strawberry, and removing most of the seeds, Patch finally seemed full, putting his little knife back in his bag. As he went to leave, his ears twitched moments before the sound of thunder was heard. Melody could hardly get a farewell out before the little being ran off in a panic as a few sparse raindrops fell to the ground. As Melody went inside, she hoped that Patch got home safe.

It wasn’t until the next morning that Mel remembered the back of the notepad. Taking a glance at it, she saw what was clearly a detailed drawing of a hamster cage… with a small figure inside, distinguished by their large, pointed ears.

Mel’s stomach dropped a bit at this, as she was unsure what to make of the situation. Was this… literal? A metaphor? She made a mental note to ask Patch for a follow-up… but the next time she saw him, she couldn’t bring herself to ask, remembering how distressed he was last time. He would tell them when he was ready, they reasoned.

Part 3

A few days later, it was all over the news: A tropical storm was coming. Everybody was preparing for it, people panicking and going to the stores for supplies, taking off of work, planning safety routes. But Melody could only think of one person, that being Patch. The last she had seen him was in that alleyway. Where was he living? Would he be safe? He probably doesn’t even know about the storm, thought Melody. That afternoon, umbrella in hand to combat the rain, Mel returned to the spot where she had seen Patch earlier in the summer, and gently called out in a whisper, “Hey, Patch, are you around?”

Patch rolled over in their makeshift shelter, nestled between the bricks in the dark alley they had called home for several months. It was more like a nest than a proper home, made out of an assortment of discarded fabrics and materials, used to keep body heat in and the elements out. It was the middle of the day, which would normally be when Patch would go out to try and borrow, however, traveling through the rain at their size was an exercise in futility. Patch chose instead to remain at home, conserving energy and heat by taking a lazy day. It wasn’t until they heard that familiar voice calling for them that they decided to wake up and investigate.

“Listen, I don’t know where you’re hanging out, or if you can ever hear me… I might just be talking to myself… but please come by later today, okay? I really need to talk to you…” Patch was a bit concerned with the urgency in the human’s voice, as she normally spoke in a relaxed manner, except for… that one time. Putting on their backpack, and grabbing a piece of plastic to use as a makeshift umbrella, Patch left their little nest, being sure to approach the human in such a way that she wouldn’t know where they came from.

Mel was relieved as they saw the tiny form of Patch walking near, using a discarded yogurt lid as a little umbrella. “Oh, thank the gods, you were still here! I was worried I was talking to myself… listen, we need to talk, this is important.”

She kneeled down, cringing slightly as her knee rested on the rainy concrete, but she disregarded it quickly as she focused on delivering her message. “Listen, there’s a big storm coming, and the worst of it will be here in the next few days. I don’t… know where you’re living right now,” Mel said, as they looked around the alleyway, wondering where Patch had actually emerged from, “But… I just wanted to let you know that it’s going to be pretty bad. And… if you don’t have anywhere to stay, um… I figured you could… stay with me?”

Melody immediately saw the apprehension in Patch’s body language as he took a hesitant step back.

“Whoa, whoa, don’t run, don’t run, listen. I… uh… saw that drawing… and I want to assure you, this is nothing like that. I just… I want you to be safe. You wouldn’t be… whatever the situation was last time. You’d just be a guest, staying for a few days until the storm passes, and then you can leave, I swear it. Hell, if you want to leave during the storm, you can too, though I don’t know why. Consider it a promise, a pact, whatever you want. I just want you to be safe.” At that, the human put her free hand over her heart, before extending it towards Patch, held as if she was going in for a handshake. Melody still didn’t know if Patch was technically a fae, but they felt like treating this with that much severity was still the right thing to do.

Patch was torn. Melody had seen the drawing, and they clearly already had guesses based on the last time… Patch knew they meant well, but couldn’t avoid thinking of the situation. Once again, they’re being approached by a human in an alleyway, being promised safety and protection… memories flooded back of the last time this happened, of how that human acted so sickly sweet to them for all of a single evening before… could they trust that Melody wouldn’t do the same? Sprites were particularly sensitive to the weather, Patch knew that the human wasn’t lying about the approaching storm. The decision caused them to start breathing heavily, weighing two options that both seemed risky. They could chance staying outside during a natural disaster, in a shelter barely protected from wind, or risk the human showing their true colors like the last one did. Was this truly good intent, or was it the long con, spending weeks gaining the sprite’s trust just so they could be thrown into a box like some kind of prize? Patch tried to think rationally, but their thoughts began to spiral as their chest tightened, worried about making the wrong choice.

“Patch? You okay?”, the human said, pulling her hand back.

Hearing the nickname snapped them back to the present slightly, enough to assess the situation a bit more rationally. If they stay out here with that storm coming… they die. If they go with the human, Melody… even in the worst case, they’ll live. Probably.

Still panicking, chest pounding heavy, they held out a hand, mirroring Melody’s earlier gesture. As the human reached back out towards Patch, the sprite winced, only to have Mel gently poke their outstretched hand with her index finger, in a sort of facsimile of a handshake. They remained there for a moment, staring at each other, before Melody spoke.

“It’ll be different this time, I promise,” Mel said, determination in her voice. “Do you… want me to carry you to my apartment, or do you want to walk there?”

Patch took a step back, and bent down, placing their hand on the ground palm-up. Melody got the cue and mimicked the motion, waiting to see what would happen, before Patch climbed onto her hand. A small shiver ran up her arm as the sprite climbed aboard, his tiny wet footsteps moving around on her palm before he sat down, and looked up at the human, nodding his head. Very slowly, and a bit clumsily, Melody stood up, before very slowly walking towards her apartment, her guest in tow.

Part 4

“Okay, well, um, let me formally welcome you this time to my apartment. It’s not much, and it may be a bit unsafe for you to go wandering, but make yourself at home regardless,” Melody said, as she opened the door, “I could, um, put you down on the floor, if you want, but I’d feel a bit better if I could put you down on a table. So we could be more eye-to-eye, you know.”

It took a moment and a glance from the sprite before Melody realized the odd sentence structure, quickly rephrasing in a way that her mute friend could answer easily. “Sorry… Just point where you want to go, I guess.”

After a moment of deliberation, Patch pointed to Melody’s coffee table, a shorter table that they could easily climb down if need be. The human nodded and gently placed her hand palm-up on the table, letting Patch walk off, though it was more of a stumble. The human sat down on the floor in front of the couch, such that Patch was at her shoulder height. Afterwards, the two of them looked at each other with uncertainty, both anxious about what the next few days would look like.

“So…”, the human mused idly, unsure what to do now, “Um… are you, uh… hungry? Thirsty? Need anything?” Patch shook their head in a no, although truthfully, they were a little hungry, as always. However, the sight of Melody standing up from a sitting position always made Patch anxious, being such a reminder of the vast height difference between the two. Instead, the two of them sat around for a moment, before Melody broke the silence again. “Do you like games? We could play like… a board game or something. I don’t know. Honestly, I’ve never really, uh… had a guest over before. That’s pretty sad, huh?”

Patch took a moment to think, before having an idea of what to do, they just hoped Melody would understand. After doing an exaggerated confused tilt of their head, they pointed to a nearby book, hoping to start a conversation about it. “Oh, that? That’s just a book I’ve been reading through.”

After another awkward silence, Patch smacked their palm against their face and began another approach. They made mouth shapes with each hand, and began pantomiming the two hands talking to each other. It took a moment before the human seemed to realize what they were doing. “Oh! Sorry, you’re trying to start a conversation, aren’t you. Oops… Ok, um, let me try again,” With that, Melody began to speak a bit more on the book Patch had pointed to. “It’s, um, about this vampire, well, she doesn’t start the story as a vampire, but it’s not really a spoiler because it’s part of the premise, but it doesn’t happen until partway through the first book, but anyways she has to find this guy-”

Patch was desperately trying to keep up as Melody began to ramble about some kind of creature called a “vampire”, nodding their head and tilting their head when they needed clarification. This side of Melody was a far cry from the stuttery mess that Patch was speaking to just a moment ago. It wasn’t exactly the conversation Patch had in mind, but it was oddly endearing watching Melody speak so passionately about something.

“- So then by the third act of this book she has to choose whether to embrace her vampire side or side with the humans and it’s this really great story and that’s where I’m at right now… sorry, I’ve been talking for ages, ”

Patch nodded, still trying to process the conversation. The concept was interesting for sure, and in some ways, they could relate… not that they could express that to the human.

“Sorry, I get pretty excited when I talk about books sometimes, heh. But hey, look at the time, it’s about dinner time and I’m ready for some food… What about you?”

Patch’s eyes went wide as they stared at the giant red eyes of the human in front of them, and the toothy grin on her face. She’s… just teasing, right? She doesn’t mean…

Melody was beyond confused as her little friend suddenly seemed terrified as soon as she mentioned food, backing away from her slowly. “Are you… not hungry? What’s with the face? Where are you going? What happened? What did I say?”

After a moment, Patch seemed to turn red with embarrassment, as he bashfully scratched his head behind one of his ears. He waved his hand dismissively, before motioning to his stomach to confirm that he was indeed hungry.

Melody couldn’t even grasp what Patch had been set off by. “No, seriously, what was that? What happened, so I don’t say it again? Was there like, a specific word?”

After noticing Patch go completely still and silent, seeming lost in though, Melody decided to simply sigh and continue on. “Well, I’m just gonna… go get the food now, then. I actually made a salad yesterday, so you can have some vegetables from that if you want." The human left, and a moment later returned with two plates of greens, one containing only one or two pieces of each item in the salad. “Here you go, bon appetit!”, The human said with a flourish as she placed both plates on the table, with the smaller portion placed near Patch. The little being seemed afraid of climbing onto the plate, but after an encouraging nod from Mel, he stepped up and began to eat, using his own small utensils from his bag. Melody watched with confusion as Patch went out of his way to position himself such that he was facing away from her.

Part 5

After the meal, which was slightly awkward without any conversation, Melody tried to think of what to do next. “I guess… the next step is to figure out where you’re gonna be sleeping tonight. Not that we’re going to bed now, but just to plan, you know,” the human said, closing her eyes in thought. “I mean, the obvious choice is the couch, but what to give you for a blanket… it’s way too hot out for somebody so small to use one of my throw blankets. I don’t really have anything small and light, aside from, I don’t know, a sock or something.”

Patch shook his little head aggressively no at that, with a fervor that Mel hadn’t seen in a while from him. “Okay, yeah… I mean, I was thinking of this one soft pair I have, but I guess maybe that would be weird. I guess the only other thing I have would be a washcloth? It would be a bit of a rough texture, but it would do for a few nights, if you want.”

Melody made a square with her fingers, roughly indicating the size of the cloth. Seeing that, Patch accepted, and Melody nodded her head to match his own motion. “Got it, I’ll get one for you later. For now, um, want to sit on the couch and watch TV?”

Watch TV? Patch thought, confused. They thought about it, not sure if they remembered what a TV was, but decided to just accept, hoping that whatever it was would be uneventful. Truthfully, after such a comparatively big meal, the little sprite was tuckered out, and the comfort of being in a human home again rather than their shelter on the streets was a bit… intoxicating, almost. All they really wanted to do was curl up and fall asleep, but their human host seemed insistent on waiting a bit before calling it a day.

The human held out her hand again, letting Patch climb on as she sat on the couch, placing Patch on the far side of the couch. Melody pressed a button on a plastic box, causing the device across the room to spark to life with a fanfare. Ah, that’s what that was called, Patch thought, remembering the device from the first house they lived in, as a young child. At the time, it mostly showed old images in a somewhat brown tone, but this was a much more vivid display with many colors. Patch wondered if the difference was technology improving over the decade, or if it was some kind of choice. After all, they grew up in the house of a much older human than Melody, a human who was older than their parents and grandparents… the reminder of their family made the sprite sigh.

As usual, Melody broke their train of thought by asking about what they wanted to watch. “I’m not sure what types of movies you like, but I like fantasy, mostly… they really let you imagine what it would be like to live in those worlds. Here, I’ll show you one of my favorites, check this out!”

It was a fairly boring story, at least according to Patch, some quest to destroy a ring for some reason they couldn’t keep up with, but what entranced the sprite was when the image would soar over the world, showing scenes that the sprite couldn’t even imagine previously, of geographic features that must be absolutely astronomical in scale to the little sprite, as the people in the TV were already so small compared to their surroundings. It felt like only moments before the video ended, although the darkness of the room and the rain picking up outside indicated that the sun had sunk below the skyline ages ago.

“Well, I’d show you the rest of the trilogy, but it is getting really late, how about we call it a night?” Mel asked, getting a nod of approval from the sprite. The human stood up and went to the bathroom, returning with a folded-up washcloth. She set it gently near Patch on the couch as she spoke. “Here’s the washcloth, as promised. Hopefully this is comfortable enough for you.”

In truth, it would be difficult for this couch to be less comfortable than the alley nest they had been sleeping in. Even despite the sprite’s reluctance to fall asleep around a human, Melody hardly managed to turn out the lights and utter a “Good night, Patch!” before the little sprite began to drift in and out of consciousness.

Part 6

The sprite woke up in a sweat, looking around. Ah, of course I’m back here, they thought, as they stared out the bars of the cage. A dream, again, or perhaps the couch they were on was the real dream. They were never certain, but the deep blue eyes staring at them felt very real. They spoke, their tone a sickly sweet one hiding a poison underneath. “Aww, did somebody have a little nightmare? You were twisting and turning in your sleep. Well, no need to worry, you’re safe now, here with your favorite person. Why don’t you come out here and let me hold you for a minute, to calm you down?”

The sprite began to panic. As much as they hated this cage, it was a brief respite from the human. As the door to the cage opened, the human spoke again, their tone beginning to drip with frustration.

“That wasn’t a question… come here, —”

…

The sound of the human using that name, their actual name, was finally enough to shake Patch awake, convinced it was a dream. After making sure that they were, in fact, awake, they tried unsuccessfully to go back to sleep. They would repeatedly nod off, have a dream about being approached by a human, either human, and jerk awake, only to repeat the process. Eventually, they simply decided to stay awake after only a few hours of sleep, spending the rest of the night looking around the room, taking in potential places to hide or escape… just in case.

The next day, the storm was raging outside in full force, causing the apartment to be dark aside from the artificial lighting.

Melody came out of her room to see Patch wide awake on the couch. “Hey Patch, good morning! How did you sleep?”

Patch nodded, though the bags under their eyes would have told a different story if Mel had looked closer.

Melody and Patch resumed watching more movies, with Mel explaining details as she noticed her friend’s confusion with the medium. Patch spent the morning drawing on the notepad, making little sketches of some of the wide landscape shots and even some of the fantastic creatures, though Mel was quick to inform him that they were fictional… probably. “After all, I would have said the same thing about a little fae with big adorable ears too, if you asked me a month ago.”

However, one thing that was bothering Melody was just how timid their friend was. It felt like every movement of hers spurred an intense fear reaction from her little guest, who still seemed skeptical of her intentions. Finally, Mel paused the movie that was on, and decided to confront him about it.

“Listen, if you don’t want to, I won’t force you, but… I want to understand what’s got you so jumpy. I feel like everything I do is upsetting you, and I don’t understand why. I want to help. Because, well, I don’t know if you feel the same, but I think of you as a friend,” the human pleaded. “Is this about… that other human?”

After receiving a small, but hesitant nod from Patch, Mel continued. “Can you… try to explain what happened? What they did? What you did? Anything would help me know how to be a better friend, please.”

Patch sighed. They knew from when Melody had originally asked that she would inevitably ask again, this human was curious if nothing else. But, maybe, just maybe, explaining to somebody what that human did would help. Patch made a motion for the notepad they had been writing in, and Mel took the initiative and flipped the page. “Would it help if I do something else for a bit and come back? Less pressure?”

After thinking on it, Patch accepted that offer, and Melody stood up, walking into her bedroom and closing the door. Patch could hear the distant sound of running water coming from inside the room as they solemnly began to draw. About a half-hour later, the human returned, and after asking permission, took a look at the thoughts that had plagued Patch for years.

… Horror was the reaction Melody had, seeing the drawings in front of her. She had suspected something bad when Patch drew the hamster cage, but this… this stranger has treated Patch like… she struggled to believe this was real. After the first drawing, an innocent one of Patch taking the human’s hand, the other drawings depicted a story of Patch being captured, threatened… tormented. Patch kept in a cage, the human’s fingers around the tiny thing’s neck, Patch being held above a grinning mouth, and other drawings that Melody couldn’t even bring herself to describe. Mel shuddered at the idea that somebody like this lived so close to her, somewhere in the same city block, even. What kind of sick person would treat any living being like this?

“Patch...” Was all Melody could say, her blood simultaneously running cold and burning with hatred towards his abuser as the images swirled in her mind. Patch wasn’t just captured, he was treated like a plaything, some kind of toy for a complete monster of a human. “Fuck.”

Melody noticed her little friend staring at her, anxiety in his eyes and his ears pulled apprehensively against the side of his head as his hands fidgeted with the scarf around his neck. “No, no… I’m not mad at you, how could I be? I just… what they did to you… how long did this go on for? How long were you their…”, She couldn’t bring herself to say the word she was thinking. “How long were you there?”

Patch shyly held up two fingers. “Two? Two what? Days? Weeks? … Months?” Melody questioned, getting more worried as Patch stayed silent. Finally, she quietly said “... Years?” garnering a small tearful nod. Melody had to stop herself, remembering Patch’s age. The poor thing had spent the start of his young adult life like that. Melody noticed Patch fidgeting awkwardly with his scarf again… the scarf he was wearing during the middle of the summer. As he fidgeted, loosening the scarf, Melody could just barely make out a deep mark across his neck now that she was looking out for anything unusual. Patch could only look everywhere except Melody’s eyes, tears welling up in his face.

“Patch… take off your scarf”, Melody said, somewhere between a question and a demand. Patch nervously complied, keeping the scarf in his hand as he anxiously fidgeted with it, while Melody took a close look at the scar on his neck. It wasn’t directly where his vocal chords would be… but it was close.

Melody wasn’t known for being a particularly quick to anger person, but she had to do some impromptu deep breathing to calm down, lest her anger scare her timid friend. “Fuck. Is that why you can’t…?” She asked, terrified of what the response would be, but Patch shook his head in a no, to the human’s relief.

“Either way, I need you to know… I’m sorry. For what that… that monster did to you. I swear to you, I would never… I’d like to think nobody would act like that, but I especially would never… ugh, no wonder you were so terrified!”

There was a long, painful silence that followed as the both of them looked at each other, pain in Patch’s eyes and fury in Mel’s. After another deep breath, and choosing her next words carefully, Melody decided to break the silence. “I know I’m not perfect… but mark my words, as long as I’m here, you’ll never have to fear them again. I promise.”

Patch made a beckoning motion, breaking Melody out of her rage. She saw him holding out his hand, and gently moved her hand closer to match, expecting a simple touch, but was caught off-guard when her little friend wrapped her finger in an embrace. Melody held her hand deathly still, as Patch began to cry enough tears to match the storm raging on outside.

The rest of the day was uneventful. The two of them watched TV, with Melody eventually noticing her little guest’s fascination for the wide shots and switching to nature documentaries after the movie ended. Before long, Patch fell soundly asleep on the couch, right next to Melody, who dared not move, not wanting to wake him up.

Part 7

“So… now that the storm is over, I guess you want to leave, huh?”

It had been about a day since the rain stopped, and the flooding outside had receded to a point where Patch could safely leave, if he wanted. Back to… living in an alley, raiding trash cans and plant pots for food…

Patch sighed, knowing that what they were about to do was stupid. If Patch wasn’t way past “Don’t interact with humans”, they would be judged so heavily for what they were about to ask. But despite that, and despite their own fear, they had to try.

Patch motioned for the notepad, and Mel diligently grabbed it for them, even though she was confused. Was he just saying goodbye or something?

It took a moment for her to recognize what Patch was drawing. It was a simplified version of Melody’s apartment, with a figure representing Melody standing inside it. In the space between “outside” and “inside”, there was a small figure, clearly representing Patch. Finally, there was a strange spiked figure on the outside which Mel deduced was the little fae’s way of drawing the sun. Melody tried to decipher what he was saying using their limited knowledge of Patch’s culture.

“The storm is over, and you’re… inside the wall? What… oh! Your people, you mentioned they live in human houses without being noticed… stop me if I’m assuming too much, but… you want to, um… move into my walls instead of leaving?”

Patch nodded, and Melody seemed conflicted. “Well… I can’t just pretend you don’t exist, Patch. We hung out, we watched movies, we bonded! How am I supposed to just… ignore you sneaking around and taking things?”

Patch’s expression dropped, as he went to put on his backpack, only to be interrupted. “Hey, hey… I didn’t say I was kicking you out, I said you couldn’t sneak around here. If you want to stay, it wouldn’t be like this”, she said, motioning to the notepad. “If you want to stay… I’d love to have you. But as a roommate, or a friend, not a stranger who steals my things. That’s fair, right?”

Patch wanted to argue that it was borrowing, not stealing, but considering the language barrier between them, arguing semantics seemed stupid. They considered the deal Melody had made. For the last few days, she had treated them nicely, and her disgust at their past had made Patch trust her much more… Hesitantly, he nodded, and the deal was made.

“Really? Oh my gosh, I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting you to agree, but I’m honored! From now on, I’ll be the absolute best human roommate possible! You won’t regret this, I promise! Okay, let me think, we’ll need to get some strings for you to get around… I’ll need to make you your own room somewhere… obviously not with a box or anything…”

Melody’s expression darkened a bit as she thought to clarify something for Patch. “Oh, and Patch? Just to be clear… you can still leave, whenever you want, just say the word. Or, uh, draw it. You’re a friend, not… you’re not trapped here. Anyways…”

As the human began to ramble again, making a list of things her new roommate would need to feel at home, Patch felt an emotion that they hadn’t felt in years… a small, skeptical glimmer of hope.

#hhhh nerves nerves nerves maybe by Fall i'll not panic every time i post an update to this (lying)#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #g/t ocs #oc tag: patch #oc tag: mel #patchwork melody

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eternal-moss · 2 months

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Thoughts on Arlecchino’s animated short part 1

This will obviously have spoilers for the new animated short, and my thoughts on it. I’m fairly up to date on the lore, but without having certain 5* characters, there may be information I’m missing that’s already been explained more. Cw for child death

At the beginning I thought that what was obviously ‘water’ from the colour and sound effects moved quite weirdly, but when I looked back at it, they seemed more like flames, which is pretty fitting. Not only is the House of the Hearth in Fontaine, but it has Fontainian children, who were quite literally made from the primordial sea. The flames are also a reference for the ‘hearth’ part of the name.

So. The ‘bat’ on the left is 100% Dottore and no one can convince me otherwise (who’s on the right? No clue lol). I know he looked quite different in Nahida’s story about Scaramouche, where he was a strange bird thing wearing the skin of a fox. But seriously the stethoscope, the plaster, the half-half colouring like his webcomic mask and the deranged grin looks so much like him. I think there was a lot of illusions to deception in this short, and Dottore’s deception in Scarmouche’s story is similar to the ‘halo’ above Dottore’s head, where he’s pretending to be charitable as opposed to just using the children.

More on deception, presenting this whole thing as a children’s story is to make it seem more exciting to children while obscuring the truth, which is something I’m sure Arlecchino loathes. The false sense of joviality and kindness from the ‘Mother’ is probably why Arlecchino operates in a very honest but cold manner, explaining what will happen and how. Also, Arlecchino seems to have changed the entire function of the House of the Hearth, which I’ll talk about later.

But seriously, I don’t understand the Fatui at all, why do so many of their plans centre around slaughtering children?? They obviously see children (especially foreign children) as a disposable commodity which is depressing. With Dottore’s experiments being aimed at children like Collei, taking them en masse and killing many on the off chance that one might survive taking on god remnants. The House seems to be similar, but like a more hunger games style trial to create physically strong people, instead of magically enhanced people (although, there’s probably some overlap, which you can see with Arlecchino…)

Arle’s (or rather Peruere’s) curse appears to spread when she’s upset. I love this scene, our girl was emo from birth it seems. I completely understand the grief of loosing a pet spider, I was probably around the same age when it happened to me too coincidentally.

Look at these two. Their relationship is so cute, and Clervie seems to have a genuine appreciation for Arlecchino’s behaviour and quirks. I could write pages about Arle’s gender non-conformity, but the clothes she wears are much more similar to young boys’ clothing (and it’s super reminiscent of Freminet’s clothing too!).

I love Fontaine architecture man, and the waves here look super eerie and foreboding. We know that Arlecchino was *heavily* invested in preventing the prophecy, which is the main motivation we know of hers. I wonder if things have changed a lot in the House after the Fontaine archon quest ending. We know something is amiss from the trailer & Arlecchino’s discussion with Neuvillette but I have no idea what

This might be an animation error, but why did Arle’s doll have an earring before she did? These two shots are years apart, and Arlecchino clearly doesn’t have an earring in the first one but does in the next. Maybe she vicariously pierced the doll’s ear first before having permission to do it to herself?

“I’m sorry… thank you” seems ironically like something someone with a curse might say, who was looking to be killed (stares at Albedo), so what happened with Clervie?? The two seemed basically inseparable before, and even though the patching-up scene earlier could have been a fight between the two of them, I feel like it’s unlikely that they would have genuinely fought to the death without some serious compulsion. I don’t think that threats would have been enough to make something like this happen, so maybe the ‘Mother’ influenced Clervie’s mind somehow? The fact that Arlecchino had to kill her to fully subdue her & the flames in the background makes it seem like she exerted herself a lot, and so Clervie must have been a pretty good fighter too then.

Still trying to figure out exactly where tf the house of the Hearth is located. Is it in the new area that’s being released? Is it even technically in Fontaine boundaries if it’s beyond the ‘terrestrial sea’?

Metaphor time! The first quote with the Lumidouce Bell is “I should have pruned this flower long ago, not waited ‘till it wilts… how grotesque.” And the second is “a bird tied down will never fly the nest. You are no exception.” Both seem pretty vague to me to be honest- the Lumidouce Bell is Clervie’s symbol, and it could be about killing Clervie. But I also think it could refer to disciplining Arlecchino and making her conform (especially with the ‘grotesque’ comment and the fact that pruning isn’t supposed to kill a plant). Maybe it’s referring to all the children of the Hearth, and how she let them grow too old before setting them to fight each other, and as a group how they would have developed rebellious attitudes in that time. Who knows.

I’m wondering what the ‘ties’ are for the second one- are they physical restraints or emotional ones? The nest is very obviously the Hearth, and ‘flying’ presumably means leaving the House (like the expression to describe children reaching adulthood & leaving their family home), which the ‘Mother’ doesn’t want if she wants a ‘king’.

More of Arlecchino’s curse progressing in a time of stress. And also being motivated by the Lumidouce flower (again probably symbolising Clervie).

All this about becoming the one true ‘king’ confuses me so much because genuinely what is the point?? It seems that most of the children are dead now with a few exceptions, and if she wants a ‘king’ to stay in the House of the Hearth and not leave to go on missions, what purpose do they have? ‘Ruling’ over the few remaining children?

I presume we’ll have an explanation soon, but the fact that Arlecchino wants to emulate the practice of having a ‘king’ confuses me too, because she seems to want to be the opposite of the previous ‘Mother’.

What an icon lmao. Arlecchino’s fighting style is so satisfying and so was this kick. The way she didn’t say “Mother… my answer is no!” And then kick but just immediately kicked after saying ‘Mother’ is so hilarious to me. Girl did NOT hesitate.

‘DiDnT sHe kiLL a hArBiNgEr” Then why is she locked in this ridiculously low security cell 😭. If you look at the lines in the floor the bars of cell are quite literally wider than her body, and she isn’t even tied to that chair. I know it’s probably so they could get a good shot but still it’s slightly cartoonish

SPEAKING OF CARTOONISH. Scaramouche looks so so silly here, I love that for him. He quite literally looks like a preteen boy, complete with the hood. Signora looks incredible here, I wish we could see more of her outfits. I really don’t care much for the other two, Pierro could be interesting in the future but I’m not particularly drawn to him

Okay. I’ve reached the photo limit…. I’ll do a part two…

#Genshin impact #mossy rambles #long post #Arlecchino #Clervie #I won’t tag the others bc they’re kinda irrelevant #I’m not that big on Fontaine lore but I am pretty damn excited for this next version #The music was really good during the fight too

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 7 months

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my 3 fav cozy fun halloween watches that you can also watch

Winnie the Pooh, Boo to you too! also on archive .org!

- No stress - Heartwarming <3 - Tiger's song "I wanna scare myself" always a banger Probably the first halloween movie kid me ever saw, and still honestly my main go-to one. Visuals? Spoopy. Music? On point. Story? Friends wanting to spend halloween with their bestie no matter what. Piglet? Brave. Tiger? Relatable. Pooh? Wise and full of love. Goffer? Slaying. Eeyore? Zero energy and still trucking. Rabbit? A nervous wreck sobbing over his pumpkin patch. Perfect. We stan.

Hansel and Gretel (1987) also on archive .org!

- Family drama (is resolved) - catchy music! - i know some ppl can't stand child actors - THE DUCK LIVES - obviously food and eating are big plot points so yeah Is it a halloween movie? No. Do I care? Not with treats this good looking, music this catchy, vibes this cozy, or a witch this awesome. We've got haunted woods and kids eating sweets and then playing the best trick of all on the witch who wanted to eat THEM- that sounds halloween-y enough to me! Plus the witch's reveal is legit creepy. Make sure you have snacks for this one. Also, if realistic family drama due to the trauma of poverty isn't your thing, skip to after the kids run into the woods.

Shelly Dvuall’s America’s Tall Tales And Legends: The Legend of Sleepy Hollow also on archive .org!

- Low stress - Comedy as heck - literally feels like someone telling you a ghost story - AAAAAAAACTING!!!!! - there is a spider during the picnic scene THE CLASSIC! THE OG! MY FAV!!!! This was THE hallween movie to me as a kid- and now i completely get why! It's like watching a stage play where everyone LOVED every scene they were in- the vibes are spoooooky sometimes in an adorably camp way, and then charming and cozy the next! It has so much fun- there are so many lines that are memes to me- like ichabod THROWING himself into bed with "And if I......DIE... before I wake.... BRINGMEBACKTOLIFE!" and Katerina's eyerolling "....assuming I know the horse-" (it makes sense in context i swear) and and and the FUN of seeing Brom Bones 'crushing' a tankered angrily, acting out the strain of it, when you can clearly tell the prop is like, maybe the strength of a soda pop can XD.... But the best part is the stinger ending. How this whole story is ended with the sudden reveal of the REAL headless horseman (maybe?) and how THAT terrifying image is the last thing it leaves the watching kids with- it feels like that last jump scare at the end of a campfire ghost story, the hand reaching out to grab you for one final scream, and I love it. I love this whole thing so much.

Now.

If you DO want something spookier, but only in the atmospheric sense....

Whistle and I'll Come to You, also on archive .org - Slow building stress - Paranoia fuel - There is no way the main character is neurotypical (relatable) - a bedsheet ghost!!!!! YAY! - a few audio startlements but otherwise all gradual scares So this is based off a short story by an old not cool dead guy. It's about finding something in a grave and not heeding the warning label. I read the story years ago and was very pleased by the bedsheet ghost, the idea of feeling like Something Is Coming, and I can say that this adaption is... different, but does very good on setting up the vibes up until the ending. I'm bit let down by how the final bedsheet ghost turned out, and abrupt cut off to the story, but the vibes up till then is really fun to sink into. Some of the cinematography does a good job of making me aware of empty space, the feeling that Something I Can't See might also be in the frame. Spoooky.

#halloween #spooky #cozy halloween

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dirthara-dalen · 2 days

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I worked on this last night, way too late into the night perhaps but oh well what is a sleep schedule.

Most of this will be under a cut to avoid splattering spoilers all over peoples dashes. That section will include my overall thoughts as well.

Ok lets start with the non-spoiler lore updates:

Ligastar is in an active relationship with both Theron and Vilkas Vera (my main imperial agent).

After the events at the end of act 2 Ligastar starts to distance himself from the jedi order, has accepted his sith lord status and has a sith apprentice (Raz'lum) that follows him around during act 3.

Ligastar knew Master Orgus as a child given his mother introduced them after arriving at the jedi temple after fleeing dromund kaas. (I am enjoying working on their relationship in my fic wip)

So above is pretty much what i'm gonna share for now as i wanna keep some stuff secret for the fic i am working on. Now to the 7.5 stuff and how it affects his story! I do plan on making individual posts once two weeks have passed at bare minimum.

Spoiler thoughts + Lore below (warning it got a bit long):

To start, I loved the opening and just how annoyed we are. Lemme tell ya it fit perfectly for Ligastar.

The moment alone with Theron was very nice. I had hoped on my other characters who didn't romance them maybe their love interest would come out to say something but of course not :(

This moment right here does not help Ligastar's current feelings towards the republic or the order. He does feel somewhat personally attacked by everyone in the holocall. He really doesn't understand why they think he can really do anything. Due to his connection to Jeeta, Ligastar genuinely fears another mandalorian war. Shae going missing and dumping everything on him pisses him off.

I thoroughly enjoyed having Sa'har around more. Seeing her slightly more naive perspective was very interesting. Her drive to fix her mistakes really does resonant with Ligastar.

All of the slave stuff. Ligastar found the whole experience on Hutta extremely difficult. He sorta puts getting the shuttle off as his desire to free the slaves takes over given his former slave status. He does sort of regret letting Sa'har blow the barrels but his own emotions were affecting his own decision making at the time.

Finding the prisoners from Ord Mantell was a surprise to Ligastar but i totally saw it coming the moment i saw what the area was called. Ligastar knew the people would probably get angry at Sa'har but he wasn't going to allow it. He did escort them to safety as he felt bad for Petra knowing her sister was here partly because of him.

Matthew mother fucking Mercer go off!!! I love Matt as a va partly because i am a critter so the moment i heard his angry voice i knew we were getting a fight! 10/10 fight. I look forward to picking the diff options in regards to the holocron on other characters.

I was so happy to tell Arn there was no way the order was touching the holocron. In my own personal canon that holocron remains with the Starwing family and is one of the objects my oc Lee, Ligastar's descendant, cherishes due to its history. Also telling Arn that the people on the ship are going to Odessen and will be trained within the force enclave again made me so happy. To put it simply, after the events of this patch regardless of what happens in game, Ligastsar officially leaves the order.

After learning what Shae did, that she freed Malgus...he swears he will kill her the next time he see her. Partly due to being fed up with antics and partly due to a hidden desire for revenge he has harbored for years after learning about her role in the sacking of Coruscant.

Like i said before, after at least two weeks i will be making individual posts that go into more detail for his story.

Lastly....not ligastar related but um...that voice actor change. it's not bad but it was jarring despite knowing ahead of time.

#swtor #the starwing legacy #ligastar starwing #swtor spoilers #swtor 7.5 #swtor spoilers 7.5 #updated ligastar lore #this post got way longer than originally intended #swtor 7.5 spoilers

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orion-s-things · 1 year

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Fun fact about the Harbingers :

As you probably know, their names are italian (which... weird for a russian organisation but oh well), but what's less talked about is that all of the Harbingers' names are commedia dell'arte characters. (Also, "fatui" isn't italian, it's latin, plural of fatuus, adjective meaning dumb foolish jerk basically).

For people who don't know about the commedia dell'arte, quick history lesson. La commedia dell'arte is an italian genre of theater that spread across Europe in the 16th century.

The representations were based on several characters (always the same with the same names) identified by their mask, who played a comedy with generally various levels of improvisation. The basic plot was kinda always the same : two people in love, the parents won't let them marry, cue dramatic comedy with ridiculous characters everywhere. It was popular, absolutely not noble.

The first harbinger, Pierro, is a sad clown in the commedia dell'arte. Literally, which ties back to his "jester" codename. He's dressed entirely in white with touches of black, and is naive but trustworthy, kind and sad because in love with Columbina who breaks his heart. The interesting thing about Pierro, though, is that he's an outcast, and was used by many philosophical movements : he was considered a disillusioned idealist and later a silent observer of the human condition. He's also a zanni, so a servant. Pedrolino, however, said to be Pierro's ancestor, is an incredibly smart troublemaker and manipulator, who survives by putting himself at the service of others.

Next is Il Dottore ! He's dressed all in black, with a white ruff and a big pretentious hat. He's a doctor, obviously, (and also his name literally means the doctor so maybe his codename being just the doctor in a different language is kinda dumb), but a bad one, and he doesn't actually know anything about medicine but is always pretending to. He uses a lot of pig latin to cover up his ignorance. His main interactions are with Pantalone, generally as a friend and mentor, sometimes as an opposant.

Third, Columbina, is a servant, often of the main female character. She has a patched ragged dress and heavy makeup around her eyes. She's basically the only one with braincells, as she's the one that has to put the two lovers together in the story. She's often shown to be a prostitute and a gossipy servant, always having something to say about the people around. Very down to earth character, also. Most of the times, she's in love with Arlechinno, or his best friend, and she's flirtatious and impudent. Basically the insolent, confident servant with common sense that helps her mistress.

Since we don't have the next in ranks, let's just do Pulcinella : characterized by his white clothes and his black mask with a long nose, he's one of the most well-known commedia dell'arte characters. He's an opportunist, a scheming bastard, always trying to rise in the societal order. He's also a thief, and very often perverted in the sexual sense. He's sometimes depicted as a noble, but more often as a servant. His only motivations are self-serving, and yet he always saves the main characters in the end. He's deemed as a savior despite also being a selfish asshole. He's also completely unable to shut up, but always manage to win. Those character traits and the fact that he's supposed to embody the spirit of the plebs is probably why his codename is The Rooster.

Arlecchino's codename suits her : a knave is a deceitful person, but used to mean a male or boy servant, which is exactly what Arlecchino is in the commedia dell'arte. Probably the most known one, his clothes are squares of different colours patched together, because he doesn't have the money to pay for clothes, and yet they look cool. He's a boyish reckless trickster, resourceful, agile and funny. He's in love with Columbina and often tries to make his master's plan fail (his master being the antagonist of the play) to help the lovers. Although, his mischievous nature and his physical abilities are apparently inherited from a devil character in older theater plays... His mask retains the colours from Hellequin, the demon he's based of from.

Il Capitano, whose codename also means the same thing as his name does, is one of the funniest commedia dell'arte characters. He's dressed in glorious clothes, all in red and gold, a feather attached to his hat and a big sword to his belt. He's a soldier, a decorated military man, and a total coward. His role in the plays is to come every time something suspicious is happening and then to run away when it looks like it could be dangerous. He's full of himself and is always telling everyone about how great he is. He doesn't have a lot of interactions with the others seeing as they hate him.

Now, Scaramouche's (pronounced Scaramoosh) name doesn't sound very italian, because it's not : it's the translation in french of Scaramuccia, the character's italian name. The meaning of the name is "small skirmisher", so a small front line soldier, which is also his codename in Chinese. But The Balladeer also makes sense: he's often depicted with a music instrument. He's dressed all in black, and his clothes are those of a noble, but he's been demoted as a servant in later plays. He's also an obnoxious scaredy cat who always end up being beaten, but he was once, under the name Pasquino, seen as an intriguing servant, a big liar and a smart character. He's also unreliable which... checks out.

Sandrone's (Sandrone with the first e of schedule for example) codename is Marionette (mahrionett), which means puppet in french. In the commedia dell'arte, she's a male peasant who's cunning and crude. His costume is made in something similar to velvet, and he's supposed to be the spokesperson of poor people that can't make ends meet and have to get tricky for that. He also has a family, a wife and a son. He first appeared as a puppet character in puppet theaters.

La Signora (pronounced as La Sinyora not as La Sig-nora) means "the lady" in italian, and she wears very big dresses and a lot of makeup. She's Pantalone's wife but cheats on him, and although she sometimes starts out as a courtesan she always end up in a rich guy's home. She's very tough and beautiful, and also very cold, calculating. Her motivation is the fulfillment of her physical need and she's very materialistic. She'll do what she needs to to have more dresses and jewels and sex. Following only this, her codename might mean fair as in beautiful.

Pantalone is always dressed in all reds with a long black coat. His name comes from his clothes, as he lived in a time where long pants weren't common (and also his pants are more stocking at this point, there's a moment when something is too tight to be called pants). He's a greedy old man, and is seen as an antagonist. He's usually a father or a husband getting cheated on, and he's very, very rich yet doesn't use his money. His only friend is Il Dottore. He's also perverted and part of the bourgeoisie (so not a noble but high part of society because rich). He's a strict dad and yet his kids always find a way to get things past him, and literally nobody except Il Dottore likes him.

Last but not least, our boy Tartaglia (which I BEG YOU to stop pronouncing Tartagulia that's the worst pronunciation ever. The right way to say his name is more of a Tartaya, the gli sound in Italian is between a y and an l). Codename : Childe, which a lot of people think is weird but is actually even weirder when you know his character is originally a middle to old aged man. He's also a family man (as in a father) and represents the lower working class. Tartaglia means Stutterer, because he's very clumsy and has a stutter that won't go away. He has a long sword and a big hat, but is always dressed mainly in green. He's friendly, and a dreamer always lost in thought.

I think that's it ! We can see that the harbingers took more than the name of their counterpart I think.

#fatui harbingers #genshin impact #genshin #fatui #childe #tartaglia #the less logical one is probably childe #but i think pierro is interesting in light of pierro's genshin character

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genshinconfessions · 26 days

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(apologies if this is long and all over the place, I have a bad tendency to ramble XD) So I'm mildly kicking myself for not being able to pull Neuvillette last patch cause I finally decided to look into him properly while procrastinating doing Fontaine's story quest(got severely burned out of Genshin for a while thanks to relatives who also play Genshin around Fontaine's release so I'm way behind and got spoiled to hell on everything, only recently got back in after prodding Arley and loving her playstyle), and. Good god I have never wanted to hug a character so much before besides with Wanderer who my opinion of did a 180 after sumeru MSQ his character quest that resulted in me pulling him and his weapon. I just want to give Neuvi cuddles and hugs cause jesus christ he needs them as well as a break. SO besides trying to yoink Sethos next patch or other reruns I want happening(Which thankfully is few at this point due to the characters I've managed to get over the course playing meaning I'm content account wise mostly with the ones I have), I'm honest to god just going to hoard Primos until Neuvi runs again and try to get him, maybe also his weapon but I'll get him first and then try for his weapon XD (The good(?) thing that came from me skipping him this time though meant I was able to pull Arley and her sig cause I had been trying for Kazuha's weapon for my Kazuha and the resulting high pity meant I only had to spend two fates to get the spear, and then a friend helped me get Arley herself cause I'll be moving against my will soon so I wouldn't be able to grind for primos in time. So once I can pull for Neuvillette I'm honestly probably going to make those two the main DPSes of my Spiral Abyss teams after just Arley let me finally clear floors 9 to 11 with my mostly messily put together teams. Can't clear floor 12 yet, but it's progress cause I've never gotten that far before! :D)

congrats!!! neuvillette may not be coming again for a while (just because we know how genshin does their banners ;;) but i hope you get him the next time he runs!

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin confessions #neuvillette

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joswriting · 3 months

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Writer Q&A

Finally doing this, thank you for the tag @lexiklecksi!!

I tag: @wheres-all-the-tea-gone and @atmospheric and anyone who wants to do it

What motivates you to write?

An inherent desire to communicate and deal with certain feelings I have (usually bad ones). My big WIP On The End Of Everything is about characters that are very dissatisfied with their lives and with who they are but have no way of changing this, as well as an exaggeration of the apocalyptic feeling we get when we don't have our lives completely together (might that tell you something about me?). Both this story and my short story anthology WIP make political commentary in the stupidest way possible, like any scifi story should.

Every character has a trace of me and every trace of me is examined and judged in all sorts of situations. It's both a form of self-therapy and a way to unload nonsensical ideas and peculiar humour.

A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

I like my poems best of the stuff I've written in the past 3 years, and there's a rather long one with some body horror elements (CW), but here are two verses from that one:

you may climb to the valley but the descent is steep there the partyhouse is filled to the brim here lie the parents, not awake nor asleep tie them together for their bodies are thin down the sea over yonder and into the deep see them drown and wonder, why had they no skin? a fly on the water comes to pose a conundrum if your face were another would you feel any different? then all insects fall dead to beat of a drum the wet blows are approaching and becoming vociferant another face is growing over your own now, how fun the next mouth utters sweetly the cry of an infant

What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

I'm not sure but I used to think descriptions? Especially of rather gorey and disturbing scenes, that's what I used to think. I haven't done that sort of thing in a while though, I hope I get to do it again soon. Well, apart from poems, as you can see.

But I think desciptions in general, they are my way of bringing the humour.

What do you enjoy most about the Writeblr community?

The fact we all stay curious about other people and their work! Plus everyone here is so earnestly in love with writing, it's nice.

A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Those synonym and rhyme websites, translators, but in my case especially wiktionary.org

A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

I like the world building in On The End Of Everything's first universe the best, but it's a sort of mystery so I don't want to spoiler it. To give you an idea of the current vibe (after all the worldbuilding that is to be uncovered); it is a universe with no sun, one planet that is able to support human life due to geothermic activity and an ecosystem of bioluminescent critters, and a human population with names like Nestlé (my main girl of this universe, I love her).

What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

If you're stuck just write Anything else. Could be a completely unrelated story idea you have or you can try to write the scene from someone else's perspective or write what someone completely different is doing somewhere else in-universe right now. Just because it won't be part of the finished story doesn't mean its not valuable. And hey, depending on the tone of your writing or how exciting the scene is you could just put it in anyway. For example: i dont really know how to write my current scene so instead i just wrote about a random bioluminescent dog called Stephen Colbert and his take on the scene. My writing is silly.

#writeblr #tag game

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cecexwrites · 5 months

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So I've been living in my Small Town Paranormal Brain a lot lately and it's been really fun.

It currently has 5 main properties and like a mini idea plus a currently just self indulgent next gen that I'm... working on.

And I'm going to talk about it because I am excited

Blackwood

Blackwood is the first. It's the first one I came up with and it's going to be the first series I start with because most of the other series actually branch off of scenes and characters that are in book one of Blackwood.

The working title of Book One is Call of the Wolf but I'm not like, obsessed with it so we will see.

Blackwood is about a small town where supernatural creatures live without the fear of being hunted. They can't be like- openly supernatural because that would escape the confines of the town, but they don't have to look over their shoulders in fear that a hunter will show up and murder them.

Call of the Wolf is about Novak, a lone wolf who is miserable and has been for the past nearly forty years. One morning she wakes up to find a man one her property, nearly mauled to death. She takes him in and patches him up and in the process realizes, he wasn't attacked by just any beast. It was a werewolf, and that puts her in deep shit. She's only allowed to live in the town without joining the pack because she swore she'd never try to start her own pack. Now she and her amnesiac new friend have to prove her innocence and maybe try to get his memories back.

The other books in the series will follow other people in the town, including the Alpha of the pack, the sweet as pie witch with a dark past and the mysterious man in the mansion on the hill who Never. Ever. comes out and into town.

The Kyteler Academy

On a lone island, away from prying human eyes, you will find the Kyteler Academy, a university of magic that one doesn't apply to. When you get the red letter, you will be summoned to your destiny. Cove Pruitt does not want to go to the school. She doesn't want a destiny and she certainly doesn't appreciate being snapped out of her warm cozy bed to deal with the mean girls and dickhead boys of the magic world.

Cove is a character who will appear in Call of the Wolf. She has been raised by her aunt, who isn't that much older than her, and is perfectly happy in her little life. This is going to fulfill my dream of writing dark academia. We will ignore the fact that I am in fact a moron. And I'm going to have to do a lot of reading to figure out how to do this right. It's going to be a small ensemble cast of characters all of whom ended up at this elite academy, some are happy about it, some aren't, and one schemed to get himself there alongside the Pruitt witch.

Something Wicked

Darby Vander Wende is one of many in a long line of hunters. Determined to rid the world of unnatural beings, She broke the mold in her family by being the first Vander Wende Woman to pick up the stake and protect humanity. When a hunt goes sideways, she finds herself at the mercy of a vampire with an attitude problem and face to face with a secret her father desperately wanted to keep hidden.

I decided I wanted to make a couple of OCs who would be 1) in this original story and 2) who I was going to make a bunch of fandom AUs for. And I do plan on doing this with Darby and Bliss, the two main characters in this story. I have a side blog for them, I'll link it when I have it more figured out. But Mostly I am very excited for this. Darby's love interest is a pretty freshly made vampire who does not have the energy for This Bitch (tm)

Meanwhile Bliss is a witch with her own demons. A Werewolf boy who won't take the hint and a human man, who shouldn't know anything about their world. But he just keeps sticking his stupid nose where it doesn't belong.

Violent Delights

Piper Lancaster is having an identity crisis. She spent the first 19 years of her life knowing that hunting was what she was meant to do. It was the work of her brothers, her father, her ancestors all the way back to before they even made it to America. But now, after a tragedy come to life, she's unsure of everything she thought she knew. But life must go on and when she gets a call to come save a family from a poltergeist, she ends up in deep water as a voice appears in her head, and it's no ghost.

I just like the idea of a girl possessed by a demon and they kind of share the space in her head, she's too strong for him to completely take over, but she can't rid herself completely. idk if this is going to be a series, or a single book, maybe a duology? but I am quite very excited about it.

The Adventures of Mavis Pearl

a lil cozy story about a girl who's grandmother passes away and leaves Mavis a cozy old home in the town of Blackwood. I still have very little clue what exactly I'm going to do with this. Is Mavis a witch? Maybe? Fae? Also maybe. All I know is she lives in a house filled with happy memories

Random One-shots/short stories

I have a lot of characters planned for Blackwood that won't have full stories but as part of the character building, I think I'm going to write a bunch of fun little bits and pieces about them (Like Rose from the 'famous' Rose's Diner and her love story with her husband back in the 70's when he'd roll up in his fancy car and impress all the ladies but her) Or how Taylor De Luca's (who will star in book 3 of Blackwood) parents met while they both worked at the infamous Action Park

idk It's just meant to be fun.

Legacy of Night

This is the next gen.

Bijoux and Manon are sisters who escape a magical cult, the cult had plans to sacrifice Bijoux to their 'god' and the night before it was meant to happen, Manon, her younger sister, executes a plan to get them out of there when she realizes what's really going on. The two escape to Blackwood and meet the children of a lot of the people from previous stories.

Is it self absorbed to be obsessed with my own world? No. No it's not. And I'm not sorry.

#original story #original fiction #small town paranormal

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suchagallabitch · 1 year

Text

Fandom Tag !

i was tagged by the lovely @auds-and-evens & @vintagelacerosette thank you stinks 🥰

Your Name: Elle 😸

Your First Fandom(s): The Hunger Games and Percy Jackson

How did you first get into fandom? I was like 11 so forgive me for not remembering all that well but I honest to god think it was Wattpad 💀 I had always likes to write and I saw that people were writing stories about the books i loved and i was like yeah i gotta do that and now here we are nearing a decade since 😭

How long have you been engaging with fandom spaces? I think I was still in 5th grade when I started reading and writing fanfiction so sufficed to say quite some time

How often do you read fanfics? honestly not very often. I am horrible at consistently reading and like if i have the spare time i would rather write than read BUT i am trying to read more to support my lovely stinky friends and their amazing work 🫶

Top 3 characters from your current fandom(s): Ian Gallagher ofc my favourite man, Mickey That also does without saying and my main woman the woman the myth the legend SHELIA 😩😩😩😩😩😩

Have you ever written a fic for a fandom? if so, shout it out! I have 46 published shameless fics so go read them stinkies 🤨 I will shoutout my favourite(s) though if anyone is in the mood for some galladads

- wasn’t it beautiful running wild till you fell asleep before the monsters caught up to you?

- now i send their babies presents

- but we can patch it up good

- it was as good as our song

Have you ever drawn fanart for a fandom? if so, shout it out! I cannot draw to save my life 😭

Share a personal headcanon that you feel very strongly about: A silly one is that Ian Gallagher is obsessed with SVU idk why thats a constant in my fanfics it just is. An actual serious one I have and I love so dearly is that Carl becomes a social worker. I feel like it makes sense because he wants to help his community out and he went through DCFS so he knows how it feels to be one of those kids. It just makes SO much sense to me especially since it seemed Carl was getting tired of being a cop but still wanted to help. How he passed school? I have no clue. I say Lip and Bryn (my gf oc for him) helped him cheat online school because that feels topical. OH also a fave headcannon is that Ian and Mickey have many many chickens thank you Mel ( @gardenerian ) i am forever obsessed with the chick crew

You're trying to convince a friend to get into your current fandom(s) with you. what episode, clip, or scene are you showing them? That’s actually a funny question for me because once i talked about random shameless plot lines to ky friend for like an hr and she was genuinely so traumatised she couldn’t believe it. another time i showed random clips to a group of my friends i also definitely traumatised them. but then my other two friends started watching the show hc of me. I always say im a plauge on everyone bc we usually end up watching shameless. Bonus my amazing breathtaking spectacular friend had started rhe show a long time ago and is now actively trying to finish it because she wants to read my fanfics 😭😭🥹🫶. I realise i didn’t answer the question but i would show Ian stealing Yev and the sorry im late scene i feel like that encompasses the show pretty well and is enticing

And finally, what does fandom mean to you? This feels like an essay question prompt lol. Idk man a bunch of cool people coming together to make some cool things and consume media together and you know what?? we shlay 🫶

second tag….

name: smelly ellie at your service

age: a year older next week 😇

Where in the world are you? Florida (derogatory)

The meaning behind your UR: Im a gallabitch what can i say i also had this user before i joined the server so maybe im a psychic too

Your second favourite color: my favourite colours are all in a tie with one another so pink yellow and burnt orange are simultaneously my first second and third favourite colour

any pets? my son chidi who is definitely a human inside a cats body

favourite season? Winter! It doesnt get cold here but i can pretend

Last thing you read: The 7 husbands of evelyn hugo i DEVOURED that book i read it in like a day 😭 if anyone wants to chat about this book please come forth

Last song you listened to: (you) on my arm

What are you wearing right now? my work uniform lol i am actively currently not doing my job

A hobby of yours: writing ofc and i would say bitching us also up there. That said i need more hobbies and really wanna (re)learn how to crochet

and finally, what are you up to today? I wish I could say nothing ☹️✊. Gotta finish my shift and then do some school work unfortunately maybe i’ll write a lil who knows!

I’m gonna try and tag some friends i don’t usually in the spirit of fandom ! play along if you please 😌😊

@imikhailo @sam-loves-seb @babygirlmickey @michellemisfit @magnificentcollectivehurricane @secret-gallavich @rereadanon @damnnmilkovich @takeyourpillsbitchh @mickmilkowitch @tear-soaked-cheeksdonteverlast @twinklyylights @milkoviched @firecrxtch @milkovetti @chicanomick @mickeys-been-staying-at-ians @gallavichlover19 @nyhmeriah @ianstummy @mickeys-notebook @filorux @mrmillagher @mixkeymilkovich @too-schoolforcool @adakechi @ian-galagher @tsuga-of-mars @mikhailoaleksandrmilkovich @gallavichgeek @lesbiangallagher @milkovichs @flamingbluepanda @ianspettyagain @callivich 🫶🫶

#elle does tags #idk what to say down here #hi #shameless us

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