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scapegrace74-blog · 3 years

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Ginger Snap, Chapter 2

A/N I am breaking probably the only rule I gave myself when I started writing fanfic, which was Don’t Ever Post a WIP. But lord knows I’m not immune to peer pressure and the narcotic that is reader feedback, so here it is, the second chapter of what is now an open-ended modern AU story about Jamie the Chef and Claire the Kitchen Disaster. Still a first person Claire POV, so I apologize in advance for any stray pronouns.

For the first chapter, I recommend reading it on Ao3, since I’ve made some minor edits since I first posted it on Tumblr. See above re. not planning on posting a WIP.

Oh, and funny story. When I decided to check the location of the real Ginger Snap catering company in Edinburgh, it was squished between “FrazersOnline” and “McKenzie Flooring”. If that’s not kismet, I don’t know what is. The location I describe below, however, is based on a catering venue here in Ottawa called Urban Element, where I’ve attended a few team-building events. I have yet to set anything on fire, though.

I checked my phone for the third time, confirming I wasn’t lost.

Frank and I moved to Edinburgh over the summer, just in time for him to start his position as Associate Professor of History at the University of Edinburgh. Despite our years spent in America, neither of us cared overmuch for driving, so we chose a flat (or rather, Frank chose a flat and I concurred) not far from campus. Therefore, this was the first time I’d ventured as far afield as Leith, a maritime enclave just to the north of the capital that couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to be grittily working class or artistically hip.

When I finally reached the address, I had to smile. No main street pretensions or non-descript commercial frontage for Ginger Snap Catering. Before me stood a two-story red brick fire station, still emblazoned with the crest of the Scottish Fire and Rescue Services. The two massive truck bays were now enclosed by see-through doors that could be drawn back on a sunny day. Through these a warm yellow light could be seen, spilling onto the grey, damp pavement.

A petite woman with dark hair manned the small reception area, a red-haired toddler clinging to her like a marsupial. She held a phone to one ear while simultaneously pacing the polished concrete floor. I stood as unobtrusively as possible near the door, but in such an open space it was impossible not to overhear her side of the conversation.

“... they willna take ‘im back until ‘is fever goes down... aye, an hour ago when I picked him up but it hasn’t... nay, i dinna think it’s... tis jus’ terrible timing with two weddings t’morrow... Could ye? Och, I owe ye Mrs. Fitz, a million times o’er... Anytime, we’ll be here. Alright, soon.”

The speaker turned to me, the harried look of a working mother sharpening her already honed features.

“I apologize fer keeping ye waiting. What can I do fer ye t’day?”

Before I could respond, the young boy, probably no older than two, began to fuss, rubbing his flushed cheek against his mother’s shoulder.

“Och, mo ghille, Mam kens ye’re poorly. Mrs. Fitz is coming as fast as she may.”

Unable to quell my instinct to diagnose and then cure, I spoke up.

“I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. Based on his age and the way he’s holding his head, it may be an ear infection.” At the woman’s penetrating look, I hastened to explain: “I’m a doctor. Would you mind if I took a closer look?”

Permission granted, I carefully palpated the boy under the jaw and peered as best I could without an otoscope into the offending ear canal. Confident in my diagnosis, I recommended treatment with a warm compress, an over-the-counter analgesic ear drop, and children’s paracetamol to control his fever. If, after twenty-four hours the symptoms had not improved, they could consider seeing his pediatrician for antibiotics, but these were only truly necessary for a persistent infection.

“Och, ye ‘ave no idea what a relief it is tae hear ye say so, lass. He’s my first bairn, ye ken, an’ I can ne’er tell if I’m over-reacting or being negligent. Can ye say thank ye tae the nice doctor, Wee Jamie?”

My stomach jumped. “Wee Jamie? Is he related by chance to Jamie Fraser?”

“Aye, tis his nephew. I’m Jamie’s sister, Jenny. Ye ken my brother, then?”

The pieces fell into place, and my insides settled.

“We’ve spoken before,” I explained. “I’m Claire Beauchamp. You and your brother helped me with a dinner party emergency last Tuesday. I came to return your market bags, and to thank you again for coming to my aid during my hour of need.”

Jenny and I spoke for another ten minutes, sharing the superficial narratives of two strangers brought together by circumstance. She was warm and thistly by turns, and I felt a longing for the honesty of female friendship that I’d given up when we left Boston. Eventually a matronly woman arrived to collect Wee Jamie. I carefully wrote down the exact names and dosages of my prescribed remedy.

After Mrs. Fitz and Wee Jamie had left, it occurred to me that Jenny needed to get back to work. I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do, even if I hadn’t thanked Jamie himself. As I began to make my goodbyes, however, Jenny interjected. “If ye’re no’ in a rush, why dinna ye join our afternoon cooking class? My brother will be demonstrating how tae make quiche. Tis the least we can do, after ye helped Wee Jamie.”

Which was how I found myself standing behind one of six cooking stations arranged across the fire station’s main area, a bright red apron covering my black slacks and saffron turtleneck. My impetuous curls were slowly breaking ranks from where I’d slicked them into a bun that morning. I worried I looked like a human Pez dispenser.

I glanced at the workstation immediately to my left. A slight woman who I guessed to be roughly my own age was engrossed in her phone, a cheeky smirk playing on her berried lips. Her strawberry blond hair was swept into an effortless chignon that made me twitch with envy. She looked up from her screen and caught me looking her way.

“Geillis Duncan,” she said, offering a well-manicured hand.

“Claire Beauchamp. Pleased to meet you.”

“Is it yer first time taking a class, Claire?” At my nod, she leaned in and whispered conspiratorially: “Ye’re in for a treat.”

Before I could enquire what she meant, a murmur amongst the other students (all women, save one) was accompanied by the heavy tread of work boots on polished concrete and a familiar Scottish burr.

“Good afternoon, everyone. Thank ye fer joining me on this dreich Scottish day. I ken a few of ye are new, so let’s start with a brief overview of yer stations and some basic safety reminders, before we tackle the quiche.”

Today Jamie was wearing a pair of olive pants that tapered down his endless legs and a technical shirt that clung valiantly to his upper body. He looked like he’d just stepped off the nearest rock climbing pitch. I wondered if he owned anything that answered to the name of a professional wardrobe, but I couldn’t deny that he looked impressive, in an athleisure sort of way.

“See what I mean?” Geillis hissed at me as Jamie made his way to the front of the hall, speaking now about optimal burner temperatures. “That man is a dozen kinds of yes.”

I concentrated on each step of the ostensibly simple recipe. Pie crust had been the previous week’s assignment, so I had only to blind bake the prepared dough already at my workstation. Once I had the crust centered exactly in the pie pan, pierced with a fork in orderly rows and placed in the oven, I rushed to catch up with the others. I’d missed Jamie’s instructions regarding pan frying the bacon, so I increased the flame, thinking I could make up a little time. The fatty meat crackled pleasingly as I set it in the lightly greased pan. I was inordinately proud of myself.

Things went very badly, very fast. First, my eyes wouldn’t stop watering as I meticulously peeled then dissected the onion into near-transparent crescents. Tears obscured my vision and I tried to wipe them away without contaminating my hands. To my left I could make out Geillis skillfully cracking eggs into a glass bowl, her pie crust already elegantly filled with crispy morsels of bacon and caramelized onion bits.

A vague sense of having forgotten something important tickled my mind. My pie crust! Grabbing a silicone glove (I wasn’t making that mistake twice) I rushed to the wall oven and extracted the pan. Giddy with relief, I saw the dough was only a little dark around the edges.

Before I could return victorious to my station, Jamie uttered a Scottish noise of alarm from his vantage at the front of the class. We both rushed across the room to where my rashers of bacon now resembled blackened shoe laces obscured by a heavy veil of smoke. With practiced ease, Jamie lifted the entire skillet into the adjacent sink and turned on the cold water. A cloud of steam enveloped his head, highlighting his auburn curls. I bit my lip as he looked my way in amusement.

“I hope ye werena planning on serving quiche to yer faculty guests t’night, Ms. Beauchamp?”

I stood meekly next to Geillis for the remainder of the class, no longer trusted around open flame without adult supervision. She graciously allowed me to extract her quiche when it was done baking. It looked like a magazine cover. Meanwhile, my workstation looked like the scene of an industrial accident.

While we were waiting for her quiche to cook, Geillis and I got to know each other a little better. She was a Highland lass from up near Inverness. Married to a wealthy older man, her life sounded like an endless quest for diversion. Despite this, or because of it, she had a sharp-witted frankness that I appreciated. She was also a hard-core gossip.

“Wee besom,” she remarked with a nod towards a blond girl who was currently monopolizing Jamie’s attention with endless questions punctuated by manufactured giggles and flicks of her pin-straight hair. “Tha’s Laoghaire Mackenzie of the Mackenzie brewing dynasty. They’ve a live-in cook, so there’s only one reason she attends these classes, and it isna for the quiche.”

I watched Jamie laugh over something the girl said, mineral eyes alight and his perfect white teeth on display. I suppose I couldn’t blame her. I wasn’t here for the quiche either.

The interminable ninety minute lesson finally ended. I thanked Geillis profusely and we exchanged numbers before she rushed off for her reiki treatment. Gathering my trench coat and purse, I tried to slink away without calling any further attention to myself.

“Ms. Beauchamp!”

I cursed under my breath, then turned to face him.

“Please, call me Claire. After I nearly burned down your place of business, we should probably be on a first name basis.”

Jamie chuckled. It sounded more natural and lived-in than his earlier response to Laoghaire, but I was likely fooling myself.

“Och, wha’s a cooking demonstration wi’out a wee bit of drama. Will ye be joining us next week? We’ll be making ceviche, sae I willna need tae put the fire brigade on stand-by.”

“Bastard,” I replied to his cheeky smirk. “Alas, I don’t think I’m cut out to be a cook. It appears to be the one science I can’t master.”

“Cooking isna a science, Claire,” he explained with sincere intensity. “Tis an art. Perhaps tha’s the root of yer struggle.”

“Perhaps it is. But in that case, I may as well give up now. I haven’t an artistic bone in my body.”

His languorous perusal of said body lit a different kind of flame in my belly. Geillis was right; he really was a dozen kinds of yes.

“I canna say as I agree. Come back any time if ye’d like tae try again.”

I blushed, thoroughly discomfited by his blatant flirting. He knew about Frank. He’d fled from him onto my fire escape, for Christ’s sake! Maybe when you looked like James Fraser, every interaction with a woman was merely a chance to hone your craft. Or maybe he was truly ignorant of his effect.

“I’ll take that under advisement. Thank you again, Jamie.”

“Until the next time, Arsonist.”

#my writing #outlander #ginger snap

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snipertherapy · 3 years

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hey sniper, i've been dealing with an addiction lately and im currently on the path to improving myself, though it can get really hard sometimes because i get imagery in my head or intrusive thoughts, what do u think i could do to keep battling it? (published would be nice, might help someone else who reads this)

First off-I'm very proud of you for startin' recovery! Decidin' you want to get better is a big step and I'm glad you've been able to reach a point where this is possible fer ya, mate.

Often time remindin' myself that intrusive thoughts are, well, intrusive, helps. Just tellin' yerself that just because these thoughts are in your head doesn't mean that they're yer own can be very freein', because even if the thoughts remain, ya can make the distinction between 'em and yer genuine thoughts. Talking to trusted friends and listening to music can be very helpful, at least from my own experience.

Good luck, and remember, recovery isn't always linear! Ya may stumble or fall back into old habits and behaviors, but that doesn't mean you've failed or are a bad person. Be safe, all.

-Stay hopeful, stay inspired Sniper.

#sniper therapy #tf2 #sniper #inspirational #motivation #words of wisdom from mundy #ask #anon

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starshinewriter · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dewey Duck & Huey Duck & Louie Duck, Louie Duck & Scrooge McDuck Characters: Louie Duck, Huey Duck, Dewey Duck, Scrooge McDuck, Doofus Drake (mentioned) Additional Tags: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brotherly Love, Protective Older Brothers, doofus is the worst, scrooge used to be as well but hes working on it, Episode: s03e21 The Life and Crimes of Scrooge McDuck! Series: Part 10 of Set After Summary:

Louie apologized to Doofus, he isn't sure how to feel about it. (Spoiler alert, he's very sure.)

Notes:

yes im aware this is another louie-centric story and yes im also aware that i still have to finish the final chapter of AMOM.... that's all i got.

hope you enjoy!

Alternative to Ao3:

The first thing Louie does when he gets home is go up to his room, he thinks his Uncle has some idea of how worn out he is cause he doesn't say anything against it. He knows that he'll have the room to himself since his brothers are still occupied with the gribbles and honestly that relieves him a bit, as bad as that makes him feel he needs to be alone right now. There's also the thing of them knowing whenever something is wrong the moment they see him and will ask questions that he isn't ready to answer yet.

He throws himself on his bed and does everything he can not to think about the day's events but fails almost instantly. So he tries to think about everything except the part that bothered him the most. He fails at that too.

He apologized to Doofus Drake, that was something that he did. And he's supposed to feel happy about it, apologizing is a good thing, but all he feels is everything he always feels with Doofus: dread, terror, the overwhelming desire to get as far away from him as he possibly can- which is about as opposite from good as you can get. He doesn't get it, why doesn't he feel better about this? Why does he feel like he just made a huge mistake? Sure, Doofus is Doofus, but he had gotten him off of his back, which had been his whole goal, he should feel good right now, but all he feels is trepidation.

Trauma, Huey would call it.

All he knows is that he wants it to go away and he doesn't know how to make it, and that might be scarier than actually being scared. What if it never goes away? What if he always feels like he can't let his guard down, ever? What kind of life is that? He buries himself in his blankets and that's where he stays, alone, until the door opens and voices that are talking about something he can't hear pause when they see him. He can practically feel them look at each other and carefully step to the bed.

"Hey, Lou." One of them -Dewey- says. "Whatcha up to?" He doesn't say anything. They look at each other once more. He feels the bed move a moment later- once, twice, and then he's surrounded by the comforting presence only his brothers can give. He stays in the blankets.

"What happened today? Uncle Scrooge gave us a summary but it was mostly about him and what he went through."

"Doofus Drake was there." Is all he says, but it's more than enough, in less than a second arms are encompassing the blankets and grabbing him in a hug. They know what a trigger Doofus is for him.

Huey places his head near where he knows Louie's is, "Do you wanna talk about it?" He feels his head shake and fights back the urge to sigh, of course he doesn't, but that doesn't mean he shouldn't. "We won't force you, but it might help you get your thoughts in order."

"I apologized to him." His brothers share a glance,

"Why?"

Louie shifts in the blankets, his brothers move to make him more comfortable. "To get him to leave me alone, mostly, and drop the case. But I dunno, Uncle Scrooge was apologizing for what he did, so I thought I had to too."

Dewey looks at him with confusion, "But you didn't do anything, not anything that he didn't deserve. Why apologize for that?"

"It felt like the right thing to do."

"Was it?" Louie is silent for a few minutes, that's what's worrying him, what if in making the right decision for the case he made the wrong one for himself?

"I don't know." He finally answers. "I just know I wanted Scrooge and me to be able to go home and I didn't want to have a sworn enemy my whole life."

Huey holds him tighter, "Louie, your relationship with him is not the same as Uncle Scrooge's relationships with his enemies. You're terrified of him! You can't be around him or even think about him without freaking out! He trapped you in his house, he tried to have you killed, he's not your enemy, he's an abuser!" The room falls silent after that and it stays that way until sniffles start to come from the blanket pile.

"I didn't want to do it," Louie admits. "I just did what I thought I had to. But now, now I'm so scared." He breaks into sobs and his brothers quickly pull him out of the blanket and into a hug. "It's not fair, why did I have to be the one to do it?! Why does he get to get away with everything?!" Dewey starts rubbing his back which makes him calm down a bit.

"All I can say is he better hope he doesn't run into us."

"Agreed." Huey replies; Louie lets out a small laugh, yeah he better, but Louie wouldn't feel sorry for him if he did.

____________________________________________________________

His Uncle finds him in the kitchen later and nods at him as he goes to get something from the fridge. "Are you feeling better, lad?" He asks as he sets up a kettle on the stove.

"No." Louie says honestly.

"Ae thought that might be the case." He pours tea into the kettle. "Ae know apologizin' fer somethin' is hard, especially ta someane like that, but sometimes it's just somethin' yew have ta do."

"... What if I made a mistake?" Louie responds without looking at him and his Uncle sighs.

"The only ane that can tell ye that is yew, do yew feel like ye made a mistake?" Louie hesitates before nodding. Scrooge hums, "Necessary evil it's called, sometimes its the only thing we can do. Doesnae make it right, or fair, but look at the positive: at least he'll leave ye alone now."

Louie doesn't say anything to that. Was that positive big enough to negate the negatives? "I wish I didn't." He admits all of a sudden. "Does that make me a bad person?"

His Uncle looks at him sternly, "Louie Duck, you are ane o' the best people ae know. Ye constantly make me want ta be better, and ae know ye do fer the rest o' this family as well. All o' yew kids do. Ae know this situation is awful but ae'm proud o' yew fer being the bigger person, if that counts fer anythin'." Louie nods, it does, it counts for a lot actually.

"Huey said I shouldn't have had to do it, that my relationship with Doofus was different than your's with your enemies. Worse. And that he didn't deserve an apology. I agree with him and I hate that I did it. It didn't make me feel any better, didn't lift any weight off of me, it just made me feel worse. And you know what the worst part is? That I keep thinking that I made him like this, that if I hadn't of gone to see him on Only Child Day he wouldn't be like this, how messed up is that?"

Scrooge turns back to the stove and removes the kettle then pours himself a cup of tea, "The lad was right, my relationships are nae that the same as yers, and it'll do yew no good ta compare them. Ae'll be honest- that child deserves a lot o' things, but an apology is nae ane o' them. Ae'm sorry yew were forced inta that position, yew should never do things cause someane else is or because it seems like the right thing ta do." He sighs. "It was a sticky situation, and ane ye really shouldnae have been involved in, ae dinnae need Donald yellin' at me ta know that's true." He says with a wry grin. "Ae'm glad yew were there though, ye were a great help." He adds, more sincerely.

Louie beams, "Maybe I should be a lawyer."

Scrooge chuckles, "Maybe." He looks at Louie, "Somethin' ae realized today was that while ae had a hand in creating my enemies and them me, ae ultimately made myself. Anyane can go on and on aboot apologizin' and holdin' people accountable, but at the end o' the day our own actions are the only anes we're responsible fer. Yew didnae make Doofus what he is, he made himself like that."

"That makes sense. Thanks, Uncle Scrooge." Maybe now he can feel better about this situation, between his brothers and his Uncle he's coming out with a much clearer view than before.

"And speakin' o' holdin' people accountable..." Louie looks at him with interest. "Ae'm thinkin' Doofus' parents and ae need ta have a little chat aboot his behavior. He cannae make yew as upset as ye get every time yew run inta him and get away with it." Louie grins at him, okay, now he can really feel better about this whole thing. It won't be right away, but he knows now that it is possible. He'll probably be scared of Doofus his whole life, and will never, ever, be near him again, but he won't always be a source of trauma for him and that's probably the best outcome.

And this point, he'll take whatever he can get.

#ducktales 2017 #the life and crimes of scrooge mcduck #louie duck 2017 #huey dewey and louie 2017 #scrooge and louie 2017

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ask-eugene-h-krabs · 4 years

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What is your views on mermaid man and barnacle boy, Mr. Krabs?

Oi, them blow’ards, eh? Well, strap in, ‘cause that’s a bit o’ a complicated subject fer me.

See, back in th’ 50s er so, Ernie McHale and Tim Parker were just a couple o’ errant humans what done wandered in from up above, an’ thanks ter some cosmic fuckery er somethin’, they ended up wit’ some kind o’ superpowers. Was nice, ‘avin’ th’ two around, helped keep th’ streets clean an’ gave people somethin’ ter believe in, symbols o’ justice er some pie-in-the-sky shite like that. Weren’t harmin’ nobody, plus they were kinda eye candy, so o’ course I took ter em pretty fine.

Then comes th’ 60s, an’ these two meat’eads end up gittin’ themselves a telervision show fer coral’s sake! What a career path, ye might say, from refugees ter crime fighters ter actors! Ye couldn’t say th’ two o’ them weren’t loved nothin’, either, two o’ them ‘ad more screamin’ fans than them four dumb sluts from Liverpool. I remember th’ gals used ter toss them bras up o’er the red carpet line as they passed… ah, bless their ‘earts, was a diff’rent time, nobody understood quite what th’ two o’ them had…

But then comes ‘64, an th’ Gulf o’ Tonkin. Now I don’t mean ter digress too much, but fer ye young folks out there who dinnae know, I gots ter stress: th’ August 4th attacks what got America’s Congress ter sign th’ bill what sent 58,000 GIs ter their deaths an’ killed millions o’ civvies in th’ carnage… it were all a sonar glitch, an’ Lyndon Johnson knew it. I ain’t got a clue what they be teachin’ ya in schools these days, maybe ye all know this by now, but us common folk weren’t clued in at th’ time. Fer all we knew, it were now open war wit’ North Vietnam.

Now, in those days, the Marshall Islands did belong to Uncle Sam, an’ so wit’ Johnson’s resolution, we bottom-feeders down under in Bikini Bottom were part o’ the war, too. Now I could spin ye a tale o’ how I were just a poor feller who got ‘is draft card pulled, an’ got dragged inter a rich man’s war kickin’ an’ screamin’, but I ain’t ‘ere ter bullshit yas. No, I enlisted on me own accord, an’ it were Ernie an’ Tim what convinced me ter do it.

See, though Bikini Bottom weren’t th’ most populous ecosystem, them bastards in th’ beltway figgered they’d git a coupla us gill-breathers ter die in th’ place o’ them red-blooded American boys. So they extended their recruitin’ efforts down inter our briny depths, an’ let any Bottomite jumped up on red-scarin’ rage sign ‘is own death warrant afore jumpin’ em on them steely graveyards.

But thing is, us sea-dwellers cannae give two shits uva sea bear’s tail fin what politics be like on dry land, an’ that made enlistin’ us a moron’s errand. It weren’t goin’ ter be possible ter git more than a handful o’ hormonal sea-hawks ter join their so-called “volunteer navy”, not wit’out some serious properganding. An’ yet, lo an’ behold, down wit’ us salty suckers were a duo o’ humans jus’ like them, feelin’ alienated from their kind an’ itchin’ ter serve their community. It were all one big ado when Ernie an’ Tim, now well-established by them stage names “Mermaid Man” an’ “Barnacle Boy”, announced they’d be leavin’ our lil’ patch o’ Atlantis fer a time ter return ter America as naval cadets. One last season o’ their show were filmed, transparently war properganda if ever there’d been any, an’ then they were off, an’ like th’ school o’ guppies that we were, it became a regular feedin’ frenzy ter follow in their wake trails.

I… don’t want ter get too deep inter what went on in me years o’ service. Sufficer ter say, I came out o’ the fightin’ a changed man, me an’ all me crew were. I don’t look back on th’ time fondly, an’ I don’t make excuses fer what I’d done. When orders ter withdraw came, I’d done enough damage ter meself an’ th’ people o’ that country that I’d’ve been wise ter ‘ave turned me back an’ never look behind, but there’d been one loose end which none o’ us from Bikini Bottom could shake: Ernie an’ Tim, last seen in Saigon, ‘ad never come home.

Disregardin’ orders, me crew an’ I hitched up wit’ some GIs marchin’ inland. I’ll never ferget Saigon, not till me dyin’ day. Fer th’ people trapped inside the city limits, it coulda been th’ end o’ th’ world. It were what little good we could do ter help organize th’ evacuatin’, but all o’ me boys knew our ulterior motives: We ‘ad ter find Mermaid Man an’ Barnacle Boy, they ‘ad ter be alive somewhere.

In those last few days o’ April, durin’ Frequent Wind, it seemed as though all hope were lost. The NVAs ‘ad th’ city surrounded, panic on th’ streets were so bad ye couldn’t pedal a bicycle down th’ block. We’d be ter evacuate on the next helicopter outta th’ city, nothin’ more we could do. Wit’ a ‘eavy ‘eart an’ a ‘eavier conscience, Armor Abs Krabs an’ ‘is crew were ter leave Vietnam fer good.

Then, from o’er th’ raucous yellin’, I ‘eard it. A voice, one which I’d ‘eard night after dreary night on me ship’s projector. A voice I never thought I’d ‘ear wit’out th’ familiar ‘um o’ film grain.

“Wait!” it cried, “don’t leave! We’re military, just like you!”

It were Ernie, wit’ Tim on ‘is ‘eels.

Th’ look upon th’ once proud Mermaid Man’s face, robbed o’ youth an’ optimism since committin’ it ter film stock, were one o’ abject horror. Barnacle Boy, no more a boy than a shell-shocked man whose soul were thirty years ‘is senior, hustled forward wit’ nae a trace o’ mirth on what ‘ad once been ‘is trademark babyface. Sparin’ not a moment ter greet th’ sea creatures what’d once been their neighbors what’d come all this way ter find em, they clambored inter the helicopter an’ cowered. Tim were near catatonic when we strapped ‘im inter ‘is restraints. Ernie could only rock back an’ force, holding ‘is knees in ‘is arms.

I ne’er knew just ‘ow long th’ two o’ them ‘ad been out there. Officially, there’d been ceasefire from America fer th’ better part o’ two years when Saigon fell. ‘Ad th’ two been separated from their unit an’ left ter wander the jungles all that time? Er ‘ad they’d stayed behind ter fight against th’ orders o’ high command? Though I’d remained a presence in th’ two’s lives fer a time after Vietnam, ‘elpin’ em reacclimate ter civilian life an’ cope wit’ their demons, I never did get straight answers outta them. I learned quickly not ter ask Ernie ‘bout ‘is time on dry land, th’ flashbacks came too fast an’ too cruel fer that man. Tim, I could never bring myself ter ask, not knowin’ what it’d done ter the older man. I’d enjoy not knowin’ what’d wiped th’ smile from th’ Boy Wonder’s face. When each o’ them passed these last few years, me navy buddies an’ I gave em a hero’s goodbye, but ter this day I wonder, I think all o’ us wonder, if they really deserved it.

Anyway, this ol’ man’s let ‘is story git away from ‘im, just look at th’ time. Been ramblin’, I been, an’ I don’t got a clue if I e’er answered yer original question. But then again, I don’t suppose I’d really know meself. It’s like I’d said, it’s a complicated subject, an’ not one I think anyone could say fer sure. All the same, thank ye fer listenin’, an’ I hope ye’ve considered what this ol’ krab ‘as ‘ad ter say.

Now are ye gonna order somethin’, er do I gotta get th’ broom ‘andle again?

#long post #cuteflowermination

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catisawells · 4 years

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A Muse for a Huntress

Dahlyah Grimshatter takes aim and fires off a shot into the lake! In the distance, a green bottle sent floating off towards the shoreline shatters!

Catisa Wells tilted her head to the side as she watched Dahlyah curiously, "You're certainly a good shot, Miss Dahlyah." She giggled and wandered over to join the woman.

“--Hm? Oi, thank yeh! Been pullin' triggers since I were jus' a wee lass o' nine.”

"Nine? My father would barely let me use the shears at that age." She snickered, "Then again it seems everyone had a far more colorful upbringing than I did."

Dahlyah Grimshatter holsters the weapon, before hopping down off the bridge railing. "M'father dinnae 'ave too stellar o' plans fer me, frankly. Weren't 'is place t' stop me." she shrugs.

Catisa Wells frowned at that and turned to face her as she folded her arms across her chest, "I am sorry to hear that, it doesn't sound like you had much of a fun childhood."

“Dunane mean t' bore yeh with it, lass. Or bum yeh out by talkin' 'bout it. Point is, been shootin' a while, aye?” Dahlyah Grimshatter grinned wickedly, “Wot's got yeh out an' 'bout, then?”

Catisa Wells smiled faintly, "I just wanted some fresh air... I heard the shooting and came to investigate. It's not something you hear often in this area." She tilted her head and offered Dahlyah a reassuring giggle. "How did your hunt go? I never got the chance to ask."

Dahlyah Grimshatter cheery smirk falters a bit. "--Ah, er... went fine." she nods once. "Tried capturin' th' beastie, like we 'ad talked, if'n yeh recall? But, er…” She shakes her head, and shrugs.

A warm smile spread across Catisa's features as she reached over to place a light touch upon the woman's shoulder, "I remember... I'm sorry you had to take a life, but don't fret. Sometimes it's not always so simple. I'm glad you appear to have come back unharmed more than anything."

“Aye, I ain't damaged none. Ridley neither, thank th' elements. But I ain't all too upset 'bout takin' a life, lass. I take lives like a corehound takes flamin' shites. Aye?” Dahlyah Grimshatter shakes her head, brow furrowing. "I tried, y'know? Tried doin' wot it were we was talkin' 'bout. Snaggin' th' beastie fer study an' all. All fer nothin'.”

Catisa Wells nodded her understanding and blew a lock of loose hair free from her features as she leaned back against the stone walls of the bridge. "I know what you mean. Some avenues of research play out like that all together, except it can take years." She sighed and offered the woman a tired smile, "Nothing cuts deeper than lost time, after all."

Dahlyah Grimshatter tucks her thumbs beneath her belt buckle, as she joins Catisa in leaning up against the wall. "Oi, aye. Makes me think it weren't worth th' effort. Should've jus' done wot I were plannin' an' gone fer th' kill from th' git-go." she huffs. “Jus' dinnae wanna disappoint yeh…”

Catisa Wells arched a brow as she looked to Dahlyah, "Me?" She seemed surprised, "W-why me?" A nervous chuckle escaped her and she quickly moved a hand to cover her features as she blushed. "I didn't mean to, um, mislead you and waste your time trying to catch it..." Her eyes shifted down to her feet and she began to fidget in place.

“--Huh? Oh, uh... no, I dinnae mean…” Dahlyah Grimshatter clears her throat. "It weren't like... -that-... Y'jus' made some good points, I thought, aye? An' I were hopin' t' share th' good news with yeh once I bagged th' beastie 'live. That, er... that's all.” She nods once, breaking her fiery gaze away.

A sigh of relief escaped the fledgeling mage, "Oh good, I was afraid you were upset with me for suggesting such a thing." She let her hand fall to her chest and smiled sweetly to the huntress. "But the only good news I needed was to know that my friend made it back safely from her hunt!"

“--Aye, no, aye... I'm made o' stern stuff, lass.” Dahlyah Grimshatter shakes her head. "I weren't mad at yeh fer nothin'. Jus' disappointed in m'self."

Catisa Wells shook her head, raven locks shifting from side to side with the movement. "You should be proud. You tried. That's more than most of your colleagues or competition or however you might view them would ever do. And that's a victory all by itself, isn't it?" She smirked, "Sometimes you have to give yourself credit for trying to do what others probably wouldn't, what you think is the right thing, even if others don't agree with you. Otherwise who would?"

Dahlyah Grimshatter looks to Catisa, brow raised. "Y'think so? I mean... I like t' think I follow a pretty good code o' ethics, aye? I ain't ne'er tried snipin' a mark that weren't mine. Nor take earnin's out from another bounty hunter. Killed plenty o' marks, but none wot dinnae deserve it, reckon. She shrugs. "Kinna like that?"

Catisa Wells shrugged, "I wouldn't presume to know about people. That's a whole realm I hope to never cross into, but regarding beasts at least I don't think they go out of their way to be malicious." A hand covered her lips as she giggled once more, "I would probably be a pretty terrible bounty hunter, I wouldn't ever want to kill a mark."

“E'en if it were a bandit? Or one seekin' t' cause harm t' innocents? Them's th' marks I try an' go fer, m'self.”

Catisa Wells looked out over the water, towards the hills in the distance with an idle smirk upon her lips. "I would be too busy trying to capture them alive so I can find out why. As far as I'm concerned there's always a reason for their actions. Call me an idealist, but if the bandit is stealing from others it's likely because they have no other means to survive so they have to take it from others who do. For one seeking to cause harm to others, why would they wish to do so? Were they hurt themselves or were they hired to do so?" She shrugged lightly with a snicker at herself. "I suppose that's just who I am, I would rather know things so I could understand it better and do something to make a difference about it."

Dahlyah Grimshatter nods slowly, offering a weak smile. "Suppose that's one way o' thinkin'. Ain't a wrong way, but... prone t' git hurt one wat'r another, reckon. There ain't always a reason wot can be figured an' corrected, lass. Not in my experience. Sometimes... folks're jus' malicious an' cruel.”

Catisa Wells chuckled and shook her head, "And that's probably the reason I wouldn't be able to have a career like that." She giggled, "I would probably get myself killed!"

“Ran down a mark once, wot were a Renny. Void elf, aye? Parchments says 'e killed six people by guttin' 'em alive. Nasty fucker, this'n.” Dahlyah Grimshatter frowns, as she recounts the story. "Tracked th' sum'bitch up t' Alterac, found 'im hidin' out in' one o' th' run down towers. Ridley's got 'im by th' leg, an' 'e's practically sniffin' th' gunpowder out m' barrel. Right then I ask 'im... "Why? Why'd y' kill them people like that?" An' y'know wot th' bastard said t' me?” Dahlyah Grimshatter shakes her head, frowning deeper. "Said 'e liked hearin' th' screams they made when 'e cut int'a 'em. Fed 'im lead, right then'n there. An' I'd do it again.” She pulls a small flash from behind her belt, and takes a swig. "... Sorry, lass. Weren't th' most pleasant story, were it? Dinnae mean t' bring yeh down, none."

Catisa Wells furrowed her brow and shook her head again, "I just can't fathom that..." She sighed, "Even in the face of all that I think I would still be asking why. People don't just decide to do that for no reason, they don't just decide to be evil without a cause." Her lips pulled downward in a frown, "It's alright, Miss Dahlyah. I apologize if I seem bothered, it's just something I'm not used to having to deal with."

“Well, if'n yeh ask me, somethin' y' best git used t'. Unpleasant as it is... this world's got evil in it. An' we dunnae always got time t' sort out wot went'n made it so, aye?” Dahlyah Grimshatter takes another swig from her flask, before holding it out in an offer to Catisa.

Catisa Wells held out a hand to politely decline with a faint smile offered, "Perhaps, though I'd like to think that's why there are people like me and then there are others who do what they can to deal with it like yourself while those answers are figured out. Without each other we wouldn't get anywhere, but together change is made over time. That evil may exist and won't go away, one cataclysmic event after another, but efforts to improve our situation never cease."

“... Huh. Interestin'... might take both types, yer sayin'? T' make th' world a better place?”

Catisa Wells nodded, "Mmhmm! While I would hesitate in the face of something you wouldn't, someone like me might know something that could help in some way." She beamed to Dahlyah, "I want to understand and learn everything I can during this life. Who knows what we

could achieve!"

Dahlyah Grimshatter smiles warmly at that and nods once to Catisa. "Aye. Well... when y' put it that way, we make a damn fine team, aye?" she chuckles.

Catisa Wells giggled, "We do!" She exclaimed with a wink to Dahlyah, "If you ever need me to help you study something, just let me know! I'd be more than happy to help. Maybe I'll just stay away from advising you about how to do your hunting instead." An embarrassed laugh escaped her.

Dahlyah Grimshatter shakes her head, still chuckling. "Nae, lass! Yer input were valid, an' appreciated! I dinnae think 'bout wot added good would come 'bout from takin' th' beastie alive, aye? Besides th' up in payout, 'course." she grins. “It were my fault, fer puttin' my expectations so high up. Set m'self up fer th' disappointment, aye? Keep advisin', lass. I'll jus' try an' be more mindful o' worst case versus best case.”

Catisa Wells grinned, "Of course! Maybe next time you have a situation like that one I could join you and learn how it is from your perspective, for a change!" Her gaze rose to the evening sky and pushed herself off of the stone wall, "It's getting a bit late and I need to meet Miss Silverfield for our job board mission. Will I see you at the end of the week for our next excursion?"

Dahlyah Grimshatter nodded once. "Aye, lass. If'n I'm slated fer it, I'll try an' see yeh there. If not, suppose we'll figure out another way t' work t'gether out in th' field, aye? Would like that." she smiles.

"Likewise!" She giggled and offered a happy wave, "See you soon!"

“Aye, forges keep y' warm, lass.”

@dahlyah-grimshatter

#dahlyah #grimshatter #catisa #wells #friend #WoW #guild #wyrmrest accord #RP #roleplay #VioletBastion

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thelastspeecher · 5 years

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Been talking a lot about Emmett lately, and I was inspired today to write something starring everyone’s favorite twelve-toed nervous boy. So, here’s Emmett in the Superhero/villain AU, accidentally using his powers to control his dad.

“Emmett.” Emmett looked up from his comic book. His dad stood in front of him, visibly furious. He swallowed nervously and set the comic book down.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Wanna tell me why you weren’t at boxing?” Stan demanded.

“I was,” Emmett lied.

“Then how come when I stopped by to surprise you and your sister, you weren’t there?”

“I left early.”

“I showed up early,” Stan said, crossing his arms. Emmett looked away. “You gotta stop skipping, kid.”

“I don’t like it,” Emmett mumbled. Stan let out a sigh and sat next to Emmett on the couch.

“I know. And that’s fine. Your Uncle Ford didn’t like it, either. Neither did I, when I started.”

“Wait, really?” Emmett asked. Stan nodded.

“I hated it. But my dad kept making me go. It was the only good thing he ever did for me. I had to learn how to protect myself and Ford.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“You need to learn some self-defense skills.”

“You never made Danny or Daisy learn how to protect themselves.”

“They didn’t get picked on as much as you and Emily.”

“I don’t get picked on.”

“You came home from school with a black eye last week.” Stan sighed. “Your ma and I made complaints and everything, but schools don’t like stopping bullies. That’s why you need to learn how to do it yourself.”

“I already do ballet-” Emmett started.

“And that’s good. I’m proud of you,” Stan said. “Ballet is tough.” He put a hand on Emmett’s shoulder. “But it’s not gonna do squat to protect you. What are you gonna do if someone comes after you or Emily? A fancy jump? Some sorta twirl?”

“Dad, I’m not gonna go anymore,” Emmett said firmly. Stan scowled at him. “I mean it. I don’t care how much you look at me with that face.”

“And I don’t care that you don’t want to. It’s for your own good.”

“Dad-”

“When you were five, and you hated broccoli, do you think I let you not eat it, just ‘cause you didn’t like it? No. I made sure you cleaned your plate. This is the same thing,” Stan said. Emmett jumped to his feet.

“You can’t make me go!” Emmett yelled. Stan slowly stood.

“Don’t take that tone with me.”

“Even if you keep signin’ me up, I’ll keep skippin’. Even if ya drop me off, I’ll leave. I don’t want to do it anymore! It’s- you might think it’s good to force me to do something I don’t like, but it’s not! I hate it!”

“Emmett-”

“Do you really wanna do something Grandpa did?” Emmett asked. Stan’s face went red.

“That’s it!” Stan rumbled. Emmett froze. “Go to your room. Now.”

“But-”

“Now,” Stan growled. “I’ll figure out your punishment for talking to me like that later.” Emmett stormed off. He passed Emily on the stairs. She didn’t bother to pretend she hadn’t been eavesdropping.

“Emmett, that was bad,” she whispered.

“I know. He needs to stop makin’ me go to those stupid lessons.”

“No, not-” Emily grimaced. “You know how much Dad hates Grandpa. Why’d you compare Dad to him?”

“Yeah, well, he should stop doin’ stuff that Grandpa did,” Emmett muttered.

“I can hear you,” Stan said loudly. “Emmett, go to your room. Emily, go…weed the garden or somethin’. Do some chores.”

“Okay, Dad.” Emily glanced at Emmett warningly before heading downstairs. Emmett stuffed his hands in his pockets and finished going to his room. He slammed the door shut.

“Don’t slam doors!” Stan shouted from downstairs.

“Ugh!” Emmett threw himself onto his bed, burying his face into his pillows.

I hate this. I hate it. I just wish Dad would throw himself off the tallest building he could find.

A door downstairs opened and closed.

-----

“Emmett Stanley McGucket!” Emmett jerked instinctively at the sound of his full name being shouted from downstairs. The movement left a large streak across the math sheet he had been working on.

“Great,” he muttered. “Ma’s home.”

Dad definitely told her what happened. Now I get to hear the second part of the riot act.

“Emmett! Get down here! Now!” Angie yelled. Emmett reluctantly shuffled out of his room and down to the first floor.

“Ford, hold him down,” a voice said. Emmett paused at the foot of the stairs.

Uncle Lute?

“I am holding him down,” a second voice snapped. “At least we finally got the dampeners on him.”

Uncle Ford, too? There was a crash from the kitchen. What’s goin’ on?

“Where is that boy?” Lute’s voice asked.

“I don’t-” Angie stormed out of the kitchen. She was still in her villainy duds, but had removed her cowl. She spotted Emmett by the stairs. “Emmett. Come here.” Emmett felt a gust of wind push him towards the kitchen.

“You’re not gonna let me go on my own?” Emmett asked. Angie scowled.

“I’m not takin’ any chances.”

“Ma, I know that I skipped, and you’re angry,” Emmett started, following her into the kitchen. “But-” He froze. Lute and Ford were struggling to hold Stan down on the ground. His uncles had clearly been fighting to restrain Stan for quite some time; both their clothes were singed, and Ford had a bruise beginning to form on his cheek. “Wha- what happened?”

“You tell me,” Angie snapped. “What command did you give yer father this time?”

“Command? I-” Emmett’s blood ran cold. He stepped a bit closer to look at his father’s eyes. His pupils were dilated, the sure sign that he had been commanded by Emmett. Emmett swallowed. “I- I didn’t mean-”

“I saw him runnin’ ‘round town,” Lute said. “He seemed a bit off, so I got a closer look and saw his eyes. Knew right then it was yer handiwork, Emmett.” Emmett covered his mouth. “What?”

“I wanted him to jump off the tallest building he could find,” Emmett whispered. “I was just- I was angry at him, I-”

“Yes, yes, this is important information,” Ford interjected. He narrowly avoided another punch from Stan. “But I think it can wait until after you free Stan from your command.”

“I don’t know how.”

“That’s not an option right now,” Angie said firmly. Emmett looked at his mom. “Fix it.”

-----

It took fifteen minutes for Emmett to reverse the command, upon which he was promptly sent to the living room, so that the adults could discuss what they were going to do. Ten minutes after that, Emmett got called to the kitchen again. He joined his parents at the table, not making eye contact with either of them.

“Uncle Ford and Uncle Lute are gone?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” Angie said. She clasped her hands. “Emmett…”

“I didn’t mean to!” Emmett wailed.

“Hey, hey,” Stan said, reaching a hand out to Emmett. “It’s okay, kiddo.”

“No, it’s not. I- I was mad and I- I wanted you to jump off a building and-”

“Why weren’t you wearing the power dampeners?” Stan asked.

“I couldn’t find ‘em.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty good at losing them.”

“I’m so sorry, Dad! I didn’t want you to get hurt! I just have mean thoughts sometimes.”

“Everybody does,” Angie said softly. She let out a sigh. “But yer thoughts are awful powerful, honey.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Emmett repeated.

“It’s okay, sport.” Stan grinned, but it was clearly forced. “It’s kinda my fault, anyways. You got my silver tongue.” Emmett looked away.

“Now’s not the time, Stanley,” Angie said quietly. Stan sighed.

“Right.”

“Emmett, yer goin’ to be punished,” Angie said. Emmett nodded. “But we’re goin’ to take the fact that it was an accident into consideration.”

“It’d be better if I didn’t have any powers at all,” Emmett mumbled.

“Don’t say that,” Stan said. “Yeah, yours are a bit tough. But we’ll figure it out.”

“If you say so.”

“And in the meantime…” Stan looked at Angie. She nodded. “We’re gonna make you switch schools.” Emmett gaped at Stan.

“What?”

“The school yer at right now isn’t equipped to handle someone with yer abilities,” Angie said. “That wouldn’t be a problem, except that ya keep losin’ the dampeners.”

“I don’t-”

“I know ya don’t mean to. But after today, we have to start makin’ decisions ‘bout what’s best fer you and everyone around you. So we’ll be sendin’ ya to Sycamore Grove.”

“Wh- the high school for villains?” Emmett squeaked. Angie and Stan nodded.

“I’m not happy about it,” Stan said quietly. “But it’s what needs to happen. The teachers there are used to students with powers like yours.”

“It’ll be fine, sweetie,” Angie said gently. Emmett hung his head.

“If you say so.”

“I do have some good news for you,” Stan said.

“What?”

“We’re gonna pull you out of boxing lessons.” Emmett’s head whipped up. He stared. “I still think it’s good for you. But you’re already dealing with stuff, and being forced to do somethin’ you hate isn’t gonna help.” Stan rubbed the back of his neck. “I know that from experience.” Emmett nodded. “Go to your room while we talk about your punishment.” Stan looked around the kitchen. There were a few scorch marks on the walls and floor, and a chair had broken. “And while we clean up. Man, I made a mess.”

“Pretty sure it’s technically my mess,” Emmett said. Stan rolled his eyes.

“C’mon, kid. How many times do I have to tell you – if you can get outta being blamed for something, take it! Even if it’s technically your fault.” Emmett quirked a small grin. “Now, go to your room. We’ll come get you in a bit.”

#I don't write enough Emmett. I need to write more with him.#I'm always worried I screw up his characterization. my own gotdang OC #but he's in fine form in this ficlet. angsty nervous boy with difficult superpower #Superhero/villain AU #Emmett McGucket #Stangie Family #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #Lute McGucket #Angie McGucket #Emily Pines #ficlet #my writing #speecher speaks

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redxriiot · 2 years

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Anon said : 👀 Traitor lad, what's your plan with that vampire pet you're keeping anyway? Are you sure it's okay to leave him with the League? Seems like he's picked up some bad habits from them.

Follow-up question: How does it feel knowing you're the only one in the class that still has Izuku as a friend now? And how are they handling him being gone? Does it hurt to see their reactions knowing you could bring him back to them? 『 Meme || Accepting 』

Lips pursed a little at the questions. Hardening rippled across his face as his jaw clenched, then he took a slow, deep breath. One more for good measure, then, “It’s not like...I want to leave ‘im with them. Were it up to me, I’d take him everywhere I go.” Though he couldn’t exactly do that, now could he?

The League being a ‘bad influence‘ on the guy wasn’t any real problem, if he had to be honest. Not like he was much better, when it came to certain things. And for that matter, if anything he almost appreciated them having a part in making him less hero-like than he had been before too. Less chance he’d actually remember anything and hate him, right? The real problem he had with them was- “I just hate him being around anybody else in general. That’s all. I mean, s’why...well, I do reckon it’d be nice if I could ever be independent a’ the League someday. I wanna as is, but, I just...ain’t figured out HOW yet.” There were still too many things to figure out, too many things holding him right in place one in particular that he just couldn’t bear to lose. But maybe it was for the best he stay with them. Having ties to the League meant allies, at the very least; meant that when worse came to worst, he’d have a place for himself and Izuku. Meant less of a chance those damned heroes could take them apart. “Whatever life I got left, he’s gonna make it better. So I–wanna do the same for him. I-I wanna stick by him, keep playin’ an’ hunting with ‘im whenever we can. For now, y’know? ‘Til I get things figured out-” Though it fuckin’ burned, thinking that All for One would still be someone Izuku would choose over him if it came down to it. He himself had more sway over the boy than probably any of the others could ever manage, but when it came to that that stupid fuckin’ bond of All for One and Izuku’s or whatever-

He shook his head to dash the thought, clicking his tongue in irritation. Unfortunately that wasn’t the only unpleasant thing he had to think about now though- “Honestly, I...feel kinda proud. I’m just–I’m just so damn proud a’ myself fer being able to have ‘im! Not Todoroki, Not Uraraka or Iida, not even Bakugo! ME! I get keep ‘im to myself!” Well...mostly. Whatever, but what mattered was he’d made himself indispensably irreplaceable to Izuku, right? No one could take his place as his number one! At least, not...in the same way that he’d cemented himself to him, right? Right! All for One might be his Sire, but HE was still his best friend! Now if only he could make it so he’d be the ONLY truly important person to Izuku-

“But, I...guess part a’ part a’ me does feel...really guilty." He rubbed his arm a little, casting a scornful look at it. “They’re still...people I care about, y’know. Hurts seein’ ‘em sad over ‘im. Or anything." Bakugo, more irritatingly so than others, “But it’s not like I can just bring ‘im to see ‘em again. Y’know? Nah, that’d hurt ‘em even more, I’ll bet. Bet it’d fuck him up too.” That was without mentioning the mess it’d make for him, amid BOTH these conflicts. No, it was better for ALL their sakes in the long run to keep them apart. Although...

A bit of a thoughtful hum left him, at the inkling of an idea he’d toyed with some coming to mind again. A light scoff followed ( or maybe it was more of a wry laugh ), before continuing, “Ahh...maybe I could bring us all together someday tho’. Maybe someday soon. That’d be really nice. All us happy an’ together like before...” Not that he’d be any more willing to share Izuku, even then, but...well, “I’d hafta talk it over it with ‘zuku first tho’, I guess.” Or the Doctor. Yeah, maybe...maybe talking to the old man first was the best thing to do here. As far as his selfishness was concerned, anyways-

#anon #ic #answered #v; (don’t wanna be) your enemy #long post for ts #//Longer than it should have been lol

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survivormagictreehouse · 4 years

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Episode #5 “I have nothing else to lose at this point” -Jay

-Did I even make a confessional last round??? AHH. Okay so I’m excited with our swap and I think we have a strong tribe but I’m REALLY sad (and not surprised) about Austin leaving. I think that I am on a very strong tribe and I can’t wait to see what happens with it going forward! Like I can’t bad talk anyone, I like them all.

-Can we talk about how proud I am of myself for remembering enough information to tell Cindi while she was answering questions? LOL, I had never been so nervous in my entire life so I'm really good that we pulled out a win! Ali and Collin did such a good job retaining and relaying information. It is nice to have another day off and I'm really curious to see what Ali decides to do and what the next challenge will be... I don't want this tribe to be broken up yet. If I do end up swapping I really want to end up on a tribe with Chips. We played in a game recently AGAINST one another and I'm dying to work with him, like actually work with him so oddly enough, I'm really hoping that he isn't going anywhere! I feel like they will probably go after Timmy or Jay. Right now the person on my tribe I feel like I can talk with the easiest about the game is Ali, he is probably my number one and I feel like I can tell him stuff without it getting passed around the entire tribe. Do I completely trust him?? NO. But I do trust him the most haha.

-I SURVIVED AHHHHHH I GET TO STAY!!!!!!!!! Fuck that was so close and I feel so bad for throwing Austin under the bus but hey, I needed to stay in this game and keep my relationships strong. Plus, voting for Timmy would have looked really shitty to him, after the whole alliance thing. Anyways....Birch is here now! I love them sm and I really look forward to getting to work with them again. As far as I can tell, my best bet of staying is a group of me, Timmy, Zach, Birch and probably Chips. Chips and Zach were so helpful to me this whole day, reassuring me and giving me the information I needed to stay safe. I also called with Timmy just now and we're gonna be sticking together since it's our best option. Its really been a big turn from feeling comfortable in the tribe to fighting to stay, but I'm gonna stay fighting and hopefully make it out of this swap alive.

-I'm trying so fucking hard to stay in this game but right now it feels like a lost cause. Zach sold me out so badly last night and it feels like it's been impossible to recover. I'm trying to get me, Timmy, chips, and birch to all vote Zach but it's feeling less and less like it's actually happening and more like they're just saying it to keep me comfortable. No one is really responding to me anymore and it just feels like this is the end. The only little bit of hope I have is apparently Timmy has heard it's gonna be Birch instead? Seems like a long shot, I don't really want to see them leave, and I'm not gonna push for it. Birch is an indespencible ally and I will go to rocks for them if i have to. I have nothing else to lose at this point.

https://youtu.be/cYEa3LQE6N4

-Going into tonight's tribal, I think I'll be safe and have the votes of Timmy, Jess, Gavin, and Keegan. However, I feel like either Gavin and Keegan could flip (though unlikely) OR an idol could be used on Jay. I guess we shall see though. See y'all on the other side :)

-okay so the og annie tribe lost their marbles and got a 4-3-1? which well. in other news, i died in my other game and mr BODHI on this tribe got me out... very interesting. i was originally gonna punish him and get him out. and i still might. im unsure. he would deserve it tho he is so wishywashy that its infuriating. rn dream alliance is cindi/vi/ruthie/rachael (aka feminism + ali). bodhi was the best to vote for me on a game level and him needless treating me like crap makes that much easier.

-okay hello... so in a crazy plot twist... we won the storytime? i was really proud of my own contribution to the challenge, i passed on a LOTTA info to collin and he did so so good passing it, ruthie SNAPPED when she was so nervous and cindi brought it home. my game has been pretty smooth sailing, two easy votes and now im chilling on the most wholesome tribe ever. should i probably be throwing these challenges to save jay/timmy/austin... maybe... but am i going to... no. im not risking my game life when i see my entire current tribe as long term allies. ideal scenario is that group implodes and sets us up to pick up the pieces at merge... maybe? but also i think we are swapping again before merge, so just adding another challenge with the shakespeare challenge delays me getting jumped by the conglomerate of generic men, birch and jess. my closest ally right now is definitely ruthie, i LOVE ME SOME RUTHIE. vi, cindi, collin, timmy and rachael i also trust to some extent. bodhi i literally would get an indescribable seretonin rush from voting out... i would LOVE the opportunity to jump him in this game. am over that man. but im vibing having fun! still have an idol! and living my BEST life ha. im sorry my confessionals have been underwhelming but my game experience has been pretty smooth sailing so far ha.

-Spill the tea! *It's 1:11AM and I still miss Gavin.

-It's 8:59 PM and I still miss Gavin. prayer circle for Gavin <3

https://youtu.be/JSmJThHF-tU

So I did something. I am not allied with 5/7 people on my tribe. I have the "3 Canadians, oh and the 2 American Hosts" Alliance of me, Jess and Keegan. I am not quite as Loyal to that alliance as I am my new one. But I still don't want to vote them out. If I HAD to I would but i want to keep them. I really like both of them. I just made the "The Jolly Crew" Alliance which is Me, Jay, Timmy Z and Zach. I love this alliance. I vibe really well with Timmy and Jay. I am a little more iffy on Zach but he is really cool! I stan everyone! I guess out of the 2 people left I would prefer to vote out chips? He tends to be kinda inactive and I talk to him the least. IDK I'll go with the numbers, and my alliance.

Another round, another immunity win. I’m just living life and am happy with how this game is going. Don’t really have to do much but making sure it won’t be me if we eventually do go to tribal.

We lost the challenge despite my best efforts. I think we’re voting Jay

I wish i had something of substance to say but this tribe refuses to go to tribal :/ i've found spots where TWO idols were in the past i think??? lions -> straight ahead -> ask for a tour, and vikings -> small boat -> get on the small boat

Soooooo... we lost the challenge again an' I got kidnapped by the gentlemen o' fortune. love that there fer me! then, to me surprise, right off o' the bat, jay threw me name out. so 'e be essentially dead to me now an' I expect 'im to be leavin' tonight. his blood ‘ill be on me hook after tonight. luckily fer me, I went around an' started spreadin' that there I 'ad 'eard 'e been sayin' me name—and 'e 'ad apparently only said it to zach. so now, the votes be between zach an' jay... an' I could not be 'appier as me name be off o' the table as farrr as I know. so bless to the sky to that there. I be expectin' jay to set sail tonight, but who knows. there been a lot o' talk o' 'im or birch 'avin' an idol or some kind o' advantage (which I believe birch may 'ave something), but I don’t think I be playin' me idol unless I catch wind o' somethin' strange 'appenin'... but me fingers be crossed an' I be goin' to 'ope fer the best.

2nd win and Ali is chucked to the tree house. Gotta do a music video

So the Annie curse strikes again............ wooo. This vote is a bit of a mess but honestly this all works out for me. Jay going ensures that I have Chips/Birch's loyalties moving forward and honestly the more OG Annie people that go the better. I hate the whole tribe lines situation but honestly I'm kind of stuck in it and I think I'm stuck in it for the long haul or at least for now. Zach going ensures I can climb the social rankings of the OG JACK tribe but it also might make me land on the bottom and it would be such a gamble. Do I trust Zach? no. Do I think everything Birch/Jay are saying about Zach is completely true..mhm BUT I need him just for a bit longer at this point. Also if Jay didn't say Gavin's name I probably would risk it and vote out Zach but at this point I can't not vote out someone who is saying my number 1's name... I want another swap because I'm bored of talking to the same people and I need to form some new bonds before merge.

With me getting one vote last time, I really wanted to secure my spot within my team and was able to talk with Zach and Jess into making an alliance chat with us and Keegan/Gavin. Hopefully jay goes tonight but I’m not to sure. In the challenge bitch was terrible. We are a bit nervous they got an advantage or idol on exile which is why we are telling everyone the vote is birch tonight. Guess we will see how tonight goes

I'm doing lots of house stuff today but I hear there's a mess to be had with Jay versus Zach. I want to vote Zach because he has been acting head honcho but also... dont care too much. Im going to try to force a tie then get blindsided out of the game. Hype energy!

The Round 5 Cast Assessment will be combined with Round 6 (on the next episode)

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rask-the-rogue · 7 years

Note

Writing idea: Young Rask meets current Rask and they have a chat.

((Ok first of all thank you so much for the prompt. This is amazing and I don’t know where it came from but I’m really grateful, as this was fun to write and different from my usual fare. Not sure if this is totally canon or not– but then, I sorta figure that’s the point. I hope you enjoy!))

If I’m going to be honest, chronomancy has never made an ounce of sense to me, and it probably never will. I avoid it wherever possible, but you know how dragons are. They get some idea into their skulls and there’s no convincing them otherwise. Chromie is no different, and any dragon that chooses a gnome as their mortal form is even less to be trusted, and even more stubborn.

There’s certainly a long story to how we ended up smack in the middle of Old Town thirty years in the past, but I couldn’t tell it to you even if I wanted to waste the time, because I have literally no idea. According to Chromie, it was my fault, but I gently reminded her that she was the time-traveling, ageless mystical creature, not me, and that also this whole rigmarole was her idea, not mine.

Okay, maybe our discussion wasn’t so much ‘gentle’ as loud, and wasn’t so much a ‘discussion’ as it was an argument. In the middle of my protest, I realized that I could feel eyes on us, and quickly remembered that as fun as time-traveling was, the area around us was still very much real and potentially dangerous.

As if by some instinct, I looked first toward the crates piled in the small inlet of Cut-Throat Alley, and my eyes landed on a pair that were just as brown and just as surprised as my own. The little face flitted away from the crevice in half a second, but I knew what I’d seen– and almost without conscious permission, I was moving toward the crates, Chromie briefly distracted with her magical hourglass device.

The thing about these crates is that they’re an easily defensible hiding spot, but not very easily escaped from. I’m still small enough to wedge my torso into the crevice between two of them, and my fingers close around the little wrist before the small dagger clenched in it can slice me, hauling the boy out into the open as he howls in protest. Something inside me is protesting, too– it all feels too strange, like I’m acting in a play whose lines have been half forgotten.

“Oi– quit yer squrimin’,” I tell the child, who’s no more than ten for certain, skinny as a rail and so dirt-stained his brown skin is a shade darker than my own. “I ain’t lookin’ ta hurt ya– relax, relax!” He swings a leg for my crotch, and when I dodge that he sinks his teeth into the bracer of the arm that has a hold of him. He looks up at me in surprise when I laugh– not a mean laugh, mind, but a genuine laugh of surprise.

We’ve caught Chromie’s attention by now, and by the sound of her voice I’m sure she’s giving me the stink eye. “Hey! No interfering with the locals! Do you want to be stuck in this timeline forever? I don’t think so!”

“Ah, fuck off,” I mumble.

“Fuck off!” The child in my grasp says, at the same moment. I laugh again– and he sinks his teeth into the inner part of my elbow, which definitely hurts.

“Look,” I tell him through gritted teeth, modulating my voice so it’s not as sharp as the pain, “You stop bitin’, I’ll give you a gold. How ‘bout that?”“Rask,” Chromie warns from behind me. Both me and the boy look at her. She puffs out a sigh, blowing a lock of hair that’d fallen in her face. “Oh, perfect. Of course. Look– you’re messing around with dangerous stuff, you know.”

“He’s a nine year old kid, Chromie,” I retort dryly.

The kid kicks my shin. “I’m TEN!”

“He’s a ten year old kid,” I amend, with a wince, re-positioning my hold on the runt. “Jus’ wanna have a brief conversation, how’s that?”

Chromie squints at me. I squint back. She snorts, figuring out that I’ve already figured it out, turning back to her device. “You’ve got two minutes. No spoilers!”

I turn my attention back to the kid, placing him on the ground and putting a firm hand on his shoulder. “Relax. Look,” I reach behind his ear, pulling it back with a gold piece in my fingers. He blinks at me, then snatches it away as quickly as he can. His dagger’s still out in his hand, but at least he’s not swinging it at my face. I keep my eye on it all the same.

“Cheap trick,” He drawls, jutting out his chin as he shoves the coin deep into a pocket of his grimy clothes.

“Aye,” I return with a grin, “It is. Yer name’s Rask, ain’t it?” His eyes narrow with suspicion; he doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t need to. “Look, Rask,” I tell myself, “I’m here ta give ya a bit of a break, alright? Only got a minute, but ‘s a minute where ain’t no one’s gonna hurt ya.”“Ya grabbed me,” He retorts, sidling back a step. I let him, seating myself against the dilapidated stoop of the shop at the mouth of the alley– the one that only half-heartedly tries to pretend it’s not selling drugs and poison both.

“Sure did. I knew talkin’ you outta there would’a taken damn near an hour.” He gives me an odd look– I don’t blame him– but the pocketknife, too, is slid away into his trouser pocket.

“Fine,” he tells me, gesturing to show he’s defenseless, now. I smile, knowing he’s not, really. “Is that gnome yer boss?”

I glance at Chromie; she’s dutifully ignoring us. “Fer now, I s’ppose.” I drop my voice conspiratorially, smirking at the lad. “She’s bein’ a right pain in my ass, draggin’ me all over tha place, but I gotta say ‘m glad she’s dragged us ‘ere.”

Rask arches his eyebrow at me (I know he’s quite proud of his ability to do that), glancing around the dirty walls and cobbled streets. “Why th’ feck’re ya glad ta be in this shithole?”

“‘Cause it means I get ta talk ta you, ‘a course.” I prod him gently in the chest, and don’t reprimand him for his language.

His eyes are still vaguely suspicious, but he can’t hide the swell of curiosity my words invoke. “Me? Why?”

“Well– ‘cause yer a real important lad ta me, y’know. An’ I reckon you’ll be real important ta people when ya get a bit older.” Chromie makes a frustrated groaning noise; I ignore it. “So long ‘s you stay fightin’ tha good fight.”

He’s still eying me narrowly, but he’s drifted a step closer. “Yeah? Is that what you did?” His gaze drops to eye the leather pauldron on my shoulder, and leather breastplate, a hand reaching out to touch the unobtrusive, but finely done, tooling around the edge.

I don’t make any move to dislodge his touch, of course. “Sure is. Not an easy thing ta do, but…” I eye him over again, from his matted hair to his bare, dirty feet, “It’s worth it, in tha end.”

An odd whirring, humming sound starts up from where Chromie’s standing. “Time’s up!” She chirps, suddenly in a much more chipper mood. She tends to be like that. “Come on– I’m going to have to do a little work to smooth out the wrinkles you’ve caused, Raskolnikov.”

Rask looks up at me, confusion on his face at the name. The last thing I want to do is stand up and leave him there, alone, in the grimy alley; he needs a bath, and a warm meal, and someone to keep him safe and out of danger. That last one, especially, he needs so badly it makes my teeth hurt. But I rise all the same, and don’t let any of that show on my face as I give him a cheerful wink. “It’ll be alright,” I tell myself. “Stay gold, eh?” I can’t help flipping him another gold coin, which he catches in numb fingers, staring at me in surprise and confusion.

I drag my gaze to Chromie, who’s watching us with pursed lips. “…Let ‘im keep tha money, aye?” I say, quietly, as I draw up next to her. She sighs, but I know her heart tends to be softer than the other dragons. She chose a gnome, after all.

“Fine,” She relents, twisting a few dials on her contraption that I don’t pretend to understand. Gold light surrounds the two of us; I look back to Rask, his little brown form warped and wavering thanks to the golden magic. “Now let’s get going. And no more interfering– you keep your tricksy hands off my Chronomancer.”

“No promises,” I retort as the boy’s figure flicks and disappears to the golden whirl, folded under the sands of time and lost to me in everything but memory.

#anon #ask #drabble #kid rask #oh ho the FEELINGS

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mclennunf · 7 years

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This Boy - Chapter 18

A/N: im sorry for the inconsistency on POV. it's just the way I plan it - I hope you enjoy this chapter!

~Paul's~

I didn't sleep the night after John's appointment, which scared me. I should have been able to fall asleep without his reassurance or confirmation. But, like I said, I didn't.

I crawled out of bed to get ready for school and the phone rang. I knew it wasn't John so why bother? Mike must have answered, because it stopped ringing.

"Paul! It's for you!" He yelled. My heart nearly dropped into my stomach - perhaps it was John!

I ran down the stairs and snatched the phone from Mike. "Hello?" I tried to sound calm.

"Hey mate it's George. Just wanted to see if you're comin' to school? John called and said he's sick, so he's stayin' home. Told me t'tell ye." George said.

"I'll meet ye' in ten minutes." I mumbled as I hung up the phone. I hadn't been awake long enough to be panicking already, but I was. I tried to convince myself that John just needed time to himself to cope with his diagnosis, but my mind kept trailing back to thinking we were over.

When I met with George, he handed me a smoke. "Looks like ye need it, mate. What's up?" He asked as we began walking toward the school yard. "Nothin'." I lied as I inhaled the cigarette. The burning in my lungs helped repress and distract me from the feeling of panic throughout my body.

"If it's because Johnny didn't come t'school, come off it mate. Yer a big boy, ye don't need 'im holdin' yer bloody hand all day." George said, annoyed. "Nothin' is wrong Geo. I don't need John to hold my hand all day." I said, my voice shaking slightly. I did want him there, I wanted to know he was in the building at least. "Don't be actin' like such a queer then!" George laughed and I shot him a look. "Shit mate I'm sorry, didn't think." He said, hanging his head.

"No biggie mate. Hard not to act like a queer when y'are one" I tried to joke.

I had to try and focus on school. I had to take my mind off of John, as difficult as I knew it would be.

...

I didn't meet with George after my last class. I was proud of myself for staying all day regardless of my situation with John. Each class felt like they were a million years long, but I pushed through and did my work. Instead of going home, I lied to Mike and said I was going to John's.

I went to Strawberry Fields.

As I walked, I payed close attention to my heart beat. The more I thought about it, the more it would quicken. It was still beating, and I was okay. John could be as mad at me as he wanted, he could leave me if he wanted, but my heart would still be beating. It wouldn't be the end of Paul McCartney.

I lied down in the same spot John and I had come to where we held hands for the first time. I stared at the stars in the same soft way he and I had before.

And then I thought of my mother.

I wondered what she was doing, and if she was watching over me. Of course she was, I thought. I believed she would make sure everything was alright, she would take care of me even though she had gone. The same way I assumed Julia watched over John. Perhaps they brought us together.

I began listening to the wind. It was getting late and the birds weren't chirping. I hadn't really spent that kind of time with myself in a long while. I had almost forgotten what it was like to be alone, something I never imagined forgetting. As much as I hated it at the time, now it felt nice. It was nice to appreciate the silence, appreciate the fact that I could be here on my own. I was such an independent introvert that being brought out of my shell made me forget the positive side of it all.

I did miss being alone. That didn't mean I didn't want John, God, I needed John. But I needed this time, too. For me.

I started counting the stars, trying to name each one after an Elvis Presley or Buddy Holly song. Looking back, it probably wasn't the safest thing to do, but I fell asleep.

~John's~

Mimi had found out I stayed in from school. Bloody hell, that was.

"John Lennon, you can't just skip off school and expect everything to be okay!" She said, multiple times. "Mimi, I have to go. I'll be back." I said from inside my room, popping my pill. So far, the effects had been extreme. I hadn't heard any voices for a day now.

I had been a right cocksucker to Paul, and I knew he didn't deserve it. I just had to push him away a little bit, it had become overwhelming. My issues, and his. He depended on me, and I loved that. But it had become too much. I decided I'd walk over to his house and see if he would accept my apology and understand where I was coming from.

I got to Paul's and knocked on the door, expecting Paul to be the one on the other side. Instead, Mike answered.

"Hey John," he looked a little confused.

"Is Paul here, mate?" I asked. "Uhm, no he told me he was at your house a few hours ago." Mike told me. I raised an eyebrow, confused. "Maybe he's at George's, don't worry John!" Mike smiled. I nodded and thanked him, as I began to walk away toward George's house.

It was likely he was there, I thought. He probably needed his friend, since his boyfriend was such a cocksucker.

I knocked on George's door, hesitantly. He opened it. "Hey mate! Looks like yer feelin' better." George smiled as he came outside and closed the door, handing me a smoke and lighting one for himself. "Aye, slept lots now, didn't I?" I said, leaning in for him to light my cigarette too. "What's got ye out 'n about?" He asked me. "Was lookin' fer Paul, actually. Mike said 'e must be here with you." I said, even though it was now obvious he wasn't there.

"Nah, mate. He ducked home after school before I could meet him." George shrugged. "Trouble in paradise?" He teased. I raised an eyebrow. "Just wanted to make sure he was okay." I lied. "Aye, well he's not here. You want some help findin' him?" George offered as he stomped on his cigarette butt.

"Nah, I think I know where he is." I nodded and thanked him for the cigarette, and walked away.

I walked toward Strawberry Fields, that was the only place I could imagine him going.

I was walking aimlessly around Strawberry Fields when I noticed how bright the stars were. There were plenty of them that night. Then it hit me. I knew Paul would appreciate the stars and how beautiful they were.

I knew where he was.

I headed toward the spot where we had watched the stars together for the first time. If he wasn't there, I had no idea where he could've been. As I approached, I began to slow down. I hadn't even thought about what I would say to him. There was no doubt in my mind that he was upset with me. There he was. Lying on the ground, his ankles crossed and his hands placed on his chest. Just as I thought he would be.

As I grew closer, I realized he was asleep. I smiled to myself. I didn't want to wake him, so instead I lied down beside him and took his hand, which was freezing cold. I shimmied my jacket off and lied it on top of him gently like a blanket. I admired his features for a few moments before feeling a pit in my stomach. Guilt. I had been such a jerk to Paul, and I'm sure we both knew he didn't deserve it. I reached under the jacket and took his hand again, wanting to make sure he was still wearing his ring. When I felt the freezing cold silver band on his middle finger, I smiled to myself again.

I pulled my hand away and crossed my legs as he began to stir. He looked from side to side, before looking up and realizing I was sitting next to him. "Oh..." He mumbled as he sat up and stretched before rubbing his eyes. I almost didn't want to speak, I was just relieved he hadn't gotten up and left. He handed me my jacket and I shook my head, refusing to take it. He shoved it a little more aggressively. I took it from him and draped it around his shoulders. "Yer shivering." I said quietly, breaking the silence. Paul gave up, and curled up in the jacket as if to admit he was cold.

"So.." He began.

"I'm sorry, Paul." I whispered as I looked down, too ashamed to look him in the eye as I admitted how horribly I had treated him. He didn't speak.

"I'm sorry." I whispered again, choking up a little. I looked up to find his eyes staring at me, widely. I didn't know how he was taking it, if he wanted to hear it.

"Do you want me to go?" I asked, starting to shuffle my body to get up. "No! I mean, no- don't go." Paul told me, obviously eager. I relaxed again and tried to move closer to him. Paul shuffled closer to me until we were sitting face to face. "I'm sorry." I whispered again, picking up his chin with my index finger. Paul leaned in and rested his head in the crook of my neck and didn't say anything. "Forgive me?" I whispered, almost too quiet to hear.

Paul just pushed his head into me more, and I felt his hand rest on top of mine. I hoped that meant he forgave me.

"I love you, Paul."

I felt his lips on my jawline, as if to say it back. I was nervous this was his way of saying I love you too, but this is it.

"Paul, look at me," I said, slightly nudging my shoulder so he had to remove his head from my shoulder. He looked at me. "Are we going to be okay?" I asked him nervously. Our faces were so close I could practically feel his eyelashes every time he blinked. "We're going to be okay." He said quietly, looking down at my lips. "I don't want to rely on you so much though, John. Scares me." He continued, almost looking embarrassed. "I understand," I sighed. "`m not the best person t'rely on." I added. "Not what I meant." He said sternly. "I know that, don't I? Just concerned is all.." I tried to put my shields up.

"Oh, no you don't John Lennon. Don't try and hide y'self away." Paul said, narrowing his eyebrows. "`m sorry." I mumbled, looking back up at him and flashing him a small smile. Paul leaned in and kissed me gently and quickly.

"Now, tell me how you've been since I've last seen ye?" Paul said as he smiled and cuddled up closer to me, relaxing on my chest.

Ah, Paul McCartney really did have a spell on me.

#mclennon #mclennon fanfiction #this boy

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survivorinternational · 5 years

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Episode 13 (FINALE) - "I think we are just Clash's goats" - Liana

omg your challenge asked for a confessional so here I am. So far I've found 16 words and I'm hoping to win. But I have to go to work soon so boo. So I'm slowly realizing that I need to work on my relationships with more people besides Clash if I want to be taken to the end or have others expect me to take them in the end. I'm still under the assumption that everyone in our alliance will backstab Clash before the finale since he has controlled most of the votes/formed the alliances/connects with everyone. This morning I've been working more of the relationships. Clash told me Vilma called him 10 minutes before tribal and asked who the vote was and said "I literally love us". I told him that I love us too and he's the only real connection I have so it makes it seem I'm extra reliant on him and add more guilt if he's even thinking about voting me out next. Then I talked to Pat a little more. I'm not as worried about Pat because I think he will also vote Allan next. I talked to Allan and just said I was worried about our numbers getting smaller and asked what we would do if Vilma won immunity because I don't want my name to come up first again. Although now that I type that out that might be too forward. I always come off as too forward and awkward hence my nonexistent social game. I'm so glad I beat my previous placement!! I never would've guessed. I don't think I'll be too mad if I'm voted out now, but each round that passes I taste the FTC a little more and crave it.

youtube

This is a boring quick confessional because honestly there isn't much to say. Right now the plan is to vote out Vilma. I told her I was voting her because if she has an idol, she's playing it whether I tell her or not and if she doesn't then it's good jury management for me. Originally there might've been a little bit of drama this week with Pat considering voting out Clash but now that's he's won immunity that's out the window. Vilma came to me earlier to ask if I would consider keeping her so she could go after Clash for me but IMO both of them win over me in f3/f2 so keeping her would just confirm that one of them would be with me in the f3 which I don't want. I'm not gonna get too cocky because it would be very easy for me to be blindsided this round but I really hope I'm not!

I know I was promising clash out this round and IM SORRY. Next round fer sher. I’m gonna miss Vilma what a queen

UGHHHHHHH. This is my elimination round and it's really sad because I haven't had a lot of time to try and convince people to keep me. I'm at a music festival and have limited access to internet. I was super busy during the immunity challenge as well and Clash spent fucking 17 hours playing it????? I think I spent about 4 hours and managed to find quite a few words so if I just had the time I could've definitely won that. But I didn't. It's really really unfortunate. Most people have been straight up honest they're voting me this round. Clash and Patrick are the only people who have shown some interest in keeping me but I bet they're just saying that so I would be more likely to vote for them at the end. I doubt anyone would actually want to keep me. I tried to make my final pleas to people saying I'm the most likely to beat Clash at next immunity and he is 100% going to try his hardest again. That guy knows he needs to comp out if he wants to get to the end. I feel kinda sentimental because this has been such a fun season and everyone here is super super nice. I fucking love everyone. Even Clash even though he's a complete crackhead. Actually especially Clash, he has been a great ally even though it's been highly out of necessity for both of us. But it has been great. I am like contemplating if I should try my final bluff at tribal and claim I have an idol that I'm playing on myself. I just don't think I have the balls for it I'm a shy person. Well anyhow, it's been fun, bye love you all. <3

I FINALLY WON A COMPETITION!! And also it was one of the most important ones to win. Honestly I was tempted to take out Clash this round but I'm going to try going up against him in f3. I think I have just as strong a resume as him, here's hoping!!

I swear to GOD if the first tribal I go on call for I go home I’m gonna be SO mad. I don’t think clash and allan would lie to me and if they are I’m voting for liana. I want to make final tribal so bad I think I can talk myself up enough to get a few votes. I’m very nervous but I would really like to get there.

Okay so f4 and I assumed if clash didnt win final immunity, he would go home. I didnt want to be the first to bring his name up so I waited a bit. Clash tells me allan is voting pat so I go to him to confirm and he thinks the jury may be bitter against clash so pat is the better choice. This is so weird to me since I think pat has been semi inactive and me and pat have played very similar-I think we are just clash's goats. The fact that his name came up at all makes me worried they could say the same thing against me. I know pat is voting me so it sucks being the other name. All I can say is I hope I'm not blindsided because that is piss poor jury management and I'll give my vote to win to pat because I'm bitter af. Otherwise, OMG I MADE FTC

Well, it's over... I honest can't believe I made it this far and I'm really proud that I did it. There really isn't anything I'd change about my game. I wanna say a huge thanks to everyone who hosted this awesome game, I had such a fun time and met some amazing people. I honestly think anyone could've won this and the people were all so much fun to hang with and talk. I don't think I'm gonna win judging by the Jury questioning but even then I think Clash, Liana and I all played a super great game. Until next time.

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blackhooftrading · 6 years

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Den of the Enemy

“This armor does not fit properly,” Fhaliona complained to the Dwarf beside her, tugging at the neck with a gloved hand and making an exasperated face. “How am I supposed to fight when I don't have range of motion?” The Dark Iron peered up at her with a chuckle. “Yer not goin' tae be fightin'. We're jus' goin' tae talk tae 'im, ye ken?” Moraghlioda turned her eyes down to the Lightforged's leg. “Yer not s'posed tae strain that anywho, jus' walkin' an' exercisin' it. And yer proper armor needs repairin'.”

“Yeah, yeah, more 'stay out of trouble',” the warrior sighed. “I swear everyone thinks I actually have a death wish.” She picked at the armor again and spoke more softly. “Do you really think this is going to work?” Mora kept her voice equally low. “Everyone knows the guards who stay in the city 'ave no common sense. If ye walk by in Stormwind armor, they don't even look at yer face and jus' salute. An' my people aren't yet trusted; it's still perfectly normal tae lock up Dark Iron thieves.” She stopped and looked at the ground. “It's gettin' back out that concerns me.”

Fhaliona stopped beside the Dwarf, arranging the manacles just tight enough to look like they were doing their job, but not tight enough to cause discomfort, before pressing the key into Mora's hand. “You let me worry about that.”

“That's worrisome enough.” The pair approached the gate of the Stormwind Stockades and were stopped by the guards stationed there. “State your business,” the guard said with a salute. Fhaliona cleared her throat, trying her best to mask her accent from behind the ill-fitting helm. “This one was caught pickpocketing in the Blue Recluse. I was sent to escort and oversee her imprisonment.”

The guard shared a look with his partner, then opened the first gate. “King's honor, friend.” Fhaliona simply nodded, giving Mora a shove for show. The Dwarf stumbled and cursed, but it was all part of the act.

The first level of the Stockades was empty, save for a few stocks and weapon racks. Fhaliona breathed a sigh of relief and removed her helm. “I can't believe that worked!”

Moraghlioda winked and freed herself from the manacles, shrugging off the rags that barely covered her leather and chainmail. “Ah told ye, city guards are clueless. They get complacent, standin' behind the walls all day. Now let's get tae findin' yer Orc.” The guards in the lower levels were a little more suspicious, but said nothing and left them alone only to keep an eye on the unusual pair. They were used to adventurers entering the prison on interrogation missions or simply to prove their worth by beating on the more dangerous convicts. At the end of a long hall on the lowest level, numerous guards gathered outside the door and called for them to halt. Mora ignored them and crossed with as large of strides as her short legs would allow. “We're 'ere on King Wrynn's orders! Step aside!”

The captain of the Stockade guard spoke first. “We've received no such orders. Turn back.” Mora was about to speak again when Fhaliona decided she wasn't wasting time on an argument. A gauntleted fist crashed against the stone, cracks spreading like spiderwebs and stone chips sprayed outwards before falling to the floor. Mora smirked as many of the guards visibly fought the urge to cower. “Unless ye want yer head to look like that, Ah suggest ye let us pass.” The captain sneered, but the crowd all but fled down the hallway. Mora took a station to the side as Fhaliona stepped up to the door and peered between the bars.

Saurfang sat silent with his eyes closed, chained to the wall. He made no signs of hearing the disturbance. Fhaliona cleared her throat and the Orc opened one eye. “Come to gloat?”

“I would not gloat at one who managed to wound me, regardless of how my hatred burns for your kind. I came to ask why. Why are you so set on destroying every world you set foot on?” The Warlord sighed. “That is a long story I think you would not wish to hear.” “I lost my home to the Burning Legion!” Fhaliona shouted, echoing in the depths of the prison. A few of the other prisoners stirred. “The same Burning Legion your Gul'dan served when he destroyed Draenor and killed my family! The same Burning Legion you served willingly! If I cannot have your head, I will have answers!” “I DID NOT!” Saurfang roared back before regaining his composure. “Draenor was also my home, and the home of my clan. We were promised power, the power to hold our home safe from all invaders, the power to expand our holdings for the benefit of our future generations. It was all a lie, and by the time we realized, it was too late.” He hissed the last part. “The demon blood took control, compelled us to do atrocious things, honorless acts I am not proud of. This green skin is a curse,” he spat.

Fhaliona's eyes widened at his words, and her rage cooled slightly. “And yet you followed Windrunner's orders to create a weapon of genocide and burn the home of the Kaldorei.”

Saurfang sighed again, hanging his head against the chains. “She is my Warchief. I am too old to openly defy one more powerful than me, and take that mantle for myself.”

“Our Prophet is far older than you. There is still time to put that dishonorable wench in her place.” Fhaliona turned to Mora and the Orc shifted his head to watch her leave. “I have heard enough. Let's get out of here before the King is notified of our actions.” The Lightforged called over her shoulder, “Light be with you, Saurfang.”

Saurfang grunted. “The Light cannot save me, but you already know that, Draenei.”

Mora straightened from leaning on the stone wall and followed Fhaliona back through the upper levels of the Stockades. As they neared the gate, Mora paused. “Any idears on 'ow to get me back out?”

The warrior regarded the marksman beside her with amusement as she replaced the helm. “You are skilled in the art of camoflage, yes? I'll distract the guards and you can sneak past.”

Mora grinned. “Now that is a fine plan! Remember, this doesn't last long.” She carefully arranged her gear so as not to make a sound and slipped into the shadows.

As soon as the hunter disappeared, Fhaliona charged up to the gate. “Guards! The prisoners are rioting! All hands are needed!” The guards looked on with surprise as they opened the gate and rushed in. Fhaliona strode outside and closed the gate behind them, making sure Mora slipped through before the lock clicked in place. They were a fair distance away when the camoflage fell and Mora laughed. “Ye are goin' tae be in so much trouble fer that!”

Fhaliona returned with a grin of her own. “'Trouble' is my middle name.”

Mentions: Moraghlioda - WyrmrestAccord

https://chardiary.com/c/Fhaliona-200/diary/entries/493

#Spoilers #Siege of Lordaeron #collab #world of warcraft #wow rp #wyrmrest accord #wyrmrest rp #for the alliance #fhaliona the redeemed #moraghlioda stonefist #chardiary

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