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countcvnt · 2 months

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Experiment

Chapter Two: Bad Dreams

[Poly!TF141/Fem!Reader]

[Ch. One]

Summary: You realize, while asleep, that just because you're out of the facility doesn't mean you're completely free. Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, mentions of blood and vomiting (nothing too graphic), Angsty Simon Word Count: ~3.5k (don't quote me on that) A/N: Was gonna wait to post this, but it's on my AO3 already (i posted this first ch. a couple days ago on there, but am just posting it here now) so i wanna post it here too. I have Covid, and time to write, so why not post it now? Hope you enjoy~ The angst is only going to pick up from here tbh

You toss and turn in bed. Your covers are strewn across the room and you’re sweating. Your eyes are screwed shut as you lie there whimpering. You can’t even force yourself awake.

“You are not acting very nice.”

Your gaze does not even meet the scientist’s. His eyes bore into yours, but you can not force yourself to look at him. Instead, you stare at the floor. Your mind is racing, you are everywhere and nowhere all at once.

“Did you hear me?” He asks. You nod. “Then act better.” He marks something down on his clipboard and you watch him closely now. “Next time, there will be no warning. You will be punished.”

You nod again. Your hands rest on your thighs, gripping your bare thighs and shaking violently. Your whole body is shaking. At this point, you can’t think of a time you weren’t shaking. Your eyes cut from the man’s hands and up to him. You see the reflection of the bright lights of the lab in his glasses. You sniffle slightly.

“You look sick.” He looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours. You don’t look away this time. “After all this-” He motions around him. “That won’t happen anymore. You won’t have to worry about silly little sickness or your immune system at all. You know, after all of this, you will be the best.”

If it works, You think. You are almost certain you should have died by now. You have absolutely no clue what they have been injecting you with. You know it makes you sick. That’s about the extent of your knowledge. Well, you also know, you can die at any given moment. Whether the medicine or the guards around you takes you. Something can happen any time, and you just have to let it happen.

You remember lying in your ‘room’, throwing up blood and bile. No one checked on you. Not until the next round of testing. They gave you nausea medicine and you only hoped it’d work. Now, you're staring down the scientist who has ‘stuck by your side’ through all of the experiments. He is the only one who survived, you think. There have been several others. But you only saw them once or twice.

You aren’t sure if or how they died. You don’t like to think about it.

“We are going to test pain tolerance today.”

You perk up, in the least enthusiastic way possible. It caught your attention and set your skin ablaze. What does this entail? You can’t help but run through scenarios in your mind. The scientist pulls out a smaller syringe and places a needle in it. It’s full of a clear liquid. You don’t move. You’ve learned it’s best to not move.

He motions for you to hold out your arm. You do so, willingly. You’ve also learned it’s best to do as you’re told. He injects the needle into a vein and you try to stay relaxed. You whimper and shut your eyes. Suddenly, everything is on fire. Your body burns. A scream releases from your throat and you fall from the metal stool you had been sitting on. You curl up, clawing, scratching at your skin.

You begin to beg, “Please!” You scream for someone to stop it. “Please, help me!”

“Don’t worry,” His voice is so monotone. “It’ll pass. This is completely normal.”

You sit there, screaming and crying as the pain grows worse. You wonder if you yell loud enough if the guards would step in. But, so far, no one has stepped in. No. One. You can’t count on anyone. Not anymore. Your clawing slows down, the burning subsides. You relax and let out a small whimper. You sit up and inhale slowly. You slump over and look up at the man in front of you.

“Better?” He asks. You nod. “Good, now get back up.” You follow his instructions. “Now, I have a scalpel here. I’m going to poke you-” Your eyes widen. “-I’m not going to stab, or cut deep. I’m just checking pain levels.”

You sit back on the stool and hold your arm out again. The man grabs the scalpel from the side table and pokes into your arm. Blood rises and drips down. You feel pressure from the poke, but nothing else. You don’t react. You soon find out, maybe you should have.

“Hm, nothing?” Everything seems to be going according to plan for him and whoever was coordinating this. “Okay, next test.”

The scalpel is dug into your skin. Dull pain comes to the area, but you aren't feeling anything you should be feeling. You are too startled to scream. Blood rushes down your forearm and your eyes widen. You have learned to not pull away, so you stay there.

“Astounding…” He grabs the gauze from the small table and wraps your arm. “We will continue testing this in the morning.” He motions for some guards to come in. “I have to make sure that this… This is permanent.”

“If it’s not?” The words slip out.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

The words, his tone, they send chills up your spine. You are grabbed, harshly, by the guards and pulled into the hallway, out of the little, ‘cozy’ lab. Your eyes adjust to the dim lights of the hall and you squint. You are dragged to your ‘room’. The guard flashes his card in front of the door and it slides open. They toss you in, you hit the floor. There is no pain this time.

You want so badly for that to be a good thing. You can’t help but feel sick to your stomach though. You crawl to your mattress and lay down. You don’t even have a cover. You sigh. You curl up and go to sleep.

You wake in a cold sweat. A scream rips from your throat and your body tenses. Your breathing is ragged and a knock is coming from your door. You look towards it. You examine your surroundings. You exhale trying to calm yourself.

“Ace!” The knocking becomes violent.

Your brows furrow. You stand from your bed and walk towards the door. You swing it open and find Gaz standing there. His eyes lock with yours, before falling to your sweaty, sticky form.

“Who’s Ace?” You ask, not caring that he is probably staring at your chest.

“Sorry,” He mumbles and tries to close your door. “I shouldn’t-”

“No,” You swat at his hand, opening the door further. “Who is Ace?” A cool breeze hits your bare legs and you realize why he’s being so funny. Your mouth forms an ‘o’ and you step back. You remember that you’re wearing your tank top and panties. You grab your shorts and throw them on. “I’m Ace, aren’t I?” You finally ask.

“That is… Was your call sign.”

You notice Gaz swallow hard. You can’t help but wonder what has him so shook up. He had to have seen some thighs and cleavage before. It registers, he must not have seen yours. You make note of that.

“It’s okay, Gaz,” You reassure him, “I promise it’s fine if you look at me.” You’re trying to not laugh. You can’t help but smile though. His eyes cut from the floor and up to you.

“Are you laughing at me?” He asks, you can see him grow embarrassed and irritated.

“You’re being silly,” Your smile widens. You watch Gaz relax. You cock your head. “Acting like I’m the first pair of thighs you’ve seen in your life.”

Gaz groans. “You don’t like-” He stops himself. “You used to not be comfortable with us seeing you like this. I don’t wanna overstep any boundaries.”

“You’re very sweet, Kyle.” He lights up as you call him by his name. “I do remember being that way though… I had always been that way ever since I can remember.” Which isn’t very much, you decide it would be best to not joke about that though. “But, I guess becoming a little lab rat kinda nipped that in the bud.”

Gaz doesn’t ask further questions. “I came to check on you, because you’re thirty minutes late.”

“Let me guess,” you purse your lips, “I used to never be late.”

Gaz is at a loss for words. “Well, no! You and Price were always first at debriefings.”

You note that as well. “I guess I need to change?” You question him. Gaz keeps from dropping eye contact. You are sure you need to change. Going to whatever you needed to go to, with nothing but a tank top and shorts on would probably not be the best look on your first real day back. “I’m fucking with you, Gaz.” You turn from him and he huffs. You grab some clothes from the dresser. Gaz excuses himself and you decide it’s best to not fuck with him further.

As he closes your door, you begin to mentally prepare yourself for what the day holds. You know you’ll be digging up old memories. You know recent wounds will resurface. You have to prepare now. You run through different questions and answers.

You're on autopilot as you get dressed. You finish up and walk back towards your door. You swing it open and find Gaz waiting. “Oh, you’re still here.”

“Figured you’d need help finding the room. Unless you don’t-”

“No, no,” You interrupt, “I don’t- I don’t know where the room is.” Having to admit that hurts. Gaz catches that. He doesn’t say anything further. You follow him down the hall and through a corridor. You reach a double door and Gaz lets you in first. You spot Price, then Soap, then Ghost. Every last one of them seems uncomfortable.

You walk into the middle of the room and stand there. The door closes behind Gaz and he walks up beside you. You stand there waiting for anyone to say something. No one breaks the silence, so you decide to.

“I don’t think I like sleeping alone.” You look at Price. “I haven’t- I didn’t have a roommate in the-” You keep stopping yourself. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a roommate. I don’t know how I'd react to one. But I can not sleep alone.”

Price nods. “That can be fixed.” He is reassuring. “We'll get you set up with-”

“I want it to be one of you.” You interrupt him. All of them tense. “I know I don't remember much of anything… but you four seem to know me the best. I want it to be one of you four.” You nod to yourself as you say the last sentence.

“Do you have a preference?” Price seems like he isn't judging who you pick, but you can't help but feel like they're all judging which one you pick.

“How about-” You place a finger on your chin. “We could alternate?”

“Alternate sleeping arrangements?” Ghost speaks up.

“That can be arranged.” Price nods. “We can talk more about that later. We really need to figure out what you do know.”

“Easy,” you shrug, “I know I have a mom and dad- We moved a lot growing up. I know that I used to be self conscious.” You remember this morning.

“Used to be?” Soap asks.

“Well, yeah, being stuck in a lab changes a person.” The whole room becomes uncomfortable. “Sorry…”

“It's alright, love,” Gaz pats you on the back, and you look at him. You don't tense. You don't attack. You just stare. Your stomach flips out how he says ‘love’. “But that's not what he meant. Do you have any information on what was happening?”

You inhale slowly and close your eyes. “Okay. I don't know where I was. But I do know people came and… uh went. A lot. Do I know where they went? No. I'm assuming the guards took care of them. It was too important for people to just come and go as they pleased. The experiments were too-” You pause. “Classified. But the scientist that was with me when Soap saved me, that was my main scientist. I never got anyone's name. They said I would get, uh, stuff like that if the experiments fully worked. I'm not sure they ever had it work though-”

“On others?” Ghost interrupts. You nod. “There were others?”

“Yeah. I mean, I think so. I overheard a couple times, of different,” you pause again, thinking of what they called you, “subjects just… dying. In reality, I don't know why I'm not dead. I also believe there were more because I was dubbed Subject Five. There were, I assume, four before me. Unless they just wanted to call me Five.” You shrug, growing uncomfortable. “I do know, for a fact, they were only getting military personnel.”

“Dae ye ken how come thay picked ye?” Soap is about as uncomfortable as you are now.

“Not entirely. But the scientist had said that I was compliant. I was… pliable, that is the word he used when I walked in for the very first round of testing. He didn't want me. He made that very known. But he had me, so he did everything he could to make everything work. It wasn't always smooth. But,” you shrug, “it is what it is.”

You see Ghost shift. He looks angry. It's making you more uncomfortable. “What do you mean, it wasn't always smooth?”

“The testing was extensive. The amount of times I've been poked and jabbed is unknown at this point. I mean,” you roll your head to the side, exposing your neck, “I have little scars littering my body from… everything.”

Price can tell you're growing tense. “Have you eaten this morning?”

“Not hungry.” You respond, trying to seem as normal as possible. “But, I would like to shower… I haven't had a hot shower in, uh, four months. I only ever got cold ones.”

“One of us can show you where-”

“No, no,” you wave your hand, “I saw it earlier. I'm sure I can find it myself. You four probably have a lot to talk about. I'll be out of your hair now.” You force a smile.

You exit the room and head back to your room. That probably wasn't going to be your room much longer. You grab some clothes and head towards the showers.

Your head hurts and you want nothing but to sit in hot steam and scrub yourself under scalding hot water. You make your way into the showers and find it empty. You sigh. You go into one of the little showers and close the door. You turn on the water and relax as the warmth hits you. You groan and roll your head back. It's the nicest you have felt in months. ——————————— Simon has not felt so angry in so long. He wants to find who did this to you and kill them. Every single one of them. The way you had seemed to shrink when talking about what happened. How you look to be a shell of your former self. And how you probably don't even remember your former self.

“What do you mean we are going to alternate sleeping arrangements?” Johnny asks. Simon wants to know how it’s going to work too.

“That’s up to her.” Price finally says. “I’m assuming she’ll pick one of us to stay with during the night. We can change it every night. Or however often she needs.”

Simon needs you to pick him. But, he also hopes you don’t. Your last interaction with him has seemed to have left a horrible taste in his mouth. He wants to protect you so badly, still. Maybe you don’t need it now, or anymore. But he has to. Even if you don’t remember what happened.

“Simon,” Price’s voice is low, soft, reassuring. “This is not your fault.”

“You keep saying that.” He growls. “You weren’t there. I was. End of story.”

Simon plays the night over and over in his head. Every day. Ever since you were taken. The night at the safe house. It was you and him… It could have been him they snatched up. But it had to be you. He can’t stop thinking about how differently it could have been if it were him they took. He isn’t so pliable… His blood is boiling.

“Ghost,” Johnny speaks, bringing him back down, “she’s okay now.” He places a hand on Simon’s shoulder and tries to reassure him. Everyone is so reassuring… Simon wishes they would stop. He isn’t used to not being able to contain himself. And yet, here he stood. Seething. Ready to bash the heads in of anyone who even thought about bringing harm to you. He can’t take it.

“Fuck this.” He needs to clear his head. “I gotta go.”

Price, Johnny, and Kyle let him leave. Simon thinks maybe a hot shower would help him as well. He inhales deeply as he walks towards the showers. The door swings open and Simon realizes there is only one shower running. Good. All he can hear is water. Steam covers the room. It’s practically a sauna. The water stops running.

Then he hears it. Soft humming. A hum he knows he’s heard before.

Memories are flooding back. Your fingers running through his hair, his head on your chest, and your soft hums the only thing he can hear. Suddenly he can’t breathe. He’s frozen. He’s moving in autopilot momentarily. He’s making his way towards you. He spots you. A towel is wrapped tightly around you and your back is to him. Your hums turn to singing and Simon reaches you. He opens his mouth to speak and he realizes too late he has startled you.

He’s reaching for your shoulder when your hand grabs him. You swing him around and slam him into the concrete wall. Every bit of breath is knocked out of Simon. Your hand is on his throat and your eyes are dark. Simon notes they’re way darker than he’s ever seen.

“Oh. It’s you.”

“You’re in the men’s showers.”

Simon watches as your face drops. You look around. “No one was in here. I didn’t- My brain was too foggy.”

Simon’s hands are up. He relaxes as you let him go and his eyes don’t leave yours as you fix the towel covering you. His eyes briefly drop and he looks at the scars littering your skin. You were right. They’re mostly smaller scars, but there is one on your forearm, right under the bend of your elbow. There was force behind that one.

“Should have let us show you where it was.” He smiles under his mask. You look embarrassed. “I’ll make sure no one comes in, if you wanna get dressed, love.”

It slips out. Naturally. He tenses as the word leaves his lips. Love… His back is to you as you get dressed. He does not dare peek. As he begins to relax, words leave your mouth causing him to tense all over again.

“Ghost?”

He wants you to call him Simon. “Hm.”

“Gaz called me ‘love’ earlier too… I know it’s a British thing, but the way you both said it-” Simon tenses as you pause. “What were we? All of us?”

Simon really does not know how to answer that. He can easily tell you about him and Johnny, or about Price and Gaz. But you? Fuck, it was confusing. He didn’t entirely know what you were with the others. But he did know the both of you were close. But, never like that…

He says your name. His eyes shut. “That’s complicated.”

“Hm…” He hears you hum. “You can turn around now.”

Simon turns to find you approaching him. You’re dressed and holding your towel in your hands. “Sorry about earlier… I don’t know what happened. I didn’t know it was you-”

“It’s fine.” Simon motions for you to walk in front of him, letting you leave before him. He watches you closely. He wonders if you can feel his eyes on you. If you can, you don’t say anything. Simon wants nothing more than to reach out, rest his hand on the small of your back, and walk you to where you’re going. He refrains.

“I’m sort of hungry now…” Your words bring Simon back. “Can you show me to the cafeteria?”

Simon nods, “Of course.”

He walks in front of you. His body begins to lead the way, while his brain is stuck on you slamming him into the wall. He can’t stop thinking about it now. Processing it. You looked absolutely feral, and a little terrified. He tenses, his fingers curling into his palms, as he thinks about what happened to you to make you that way.

Simon doesn’t want to have to go through the pain of remembering certain things. But he hopes that if you do remember who snatched you up, that you will tell him who it was. So that he can cause them just as much turmoil.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john price x reader #john price #call of duty #cod mw2 #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #x reader

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felikatze · 5 months

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ISAT and Ludonarrative Harmony: Combat is a Storytelling Tool

Or: How Siffrin is stuck in the endgame grind, forever

Please Note: This is primarily aimed at an audience that already played In Stars and Time, because I am bad at explaining things, and it's good to already know what the fuck I'm talking about. I tend to only bring up game elements as I want to talk about them.

Spoilers for.... all of ISAT! Especially Act 5!

(image to show how i feel posting this and as an attention grabber over my wall of text)

To pull a definition of ludonarrative harmony out of a hat, game writer Lauryn Ash defines it as follows:

Ludonarrative harmony is when gameplay and story work together to create a meaningful and immersive experience. From a design implementation perspective, it is the synchronized interactions between in-game actions (mechanics) and in-world context (story).

It is, generally speaking, how well game mechanics work hand in hand with the story. I, personally, think ISAT is an absolute masterclass of it, so I want to take a look at how ISAT specifically uses its battle system to emphasize Siffrin's character arc and create organic story moments. I want you to keep this in mind when I talk here.

So, skills, right? If you've played any turn-based RPG, you know your Fire spells, your "BACKSLASH! AIRSLASH! BACKSLASH!" and the many ways to style those.

Well, what does casting "Fire" say about your character? Not all that much, does it? Perhaps you'll have typical divisions. The smart one is the mage, the big brawny one is your tank, the petite one's the healer. And that's the barebones of ISAT's main party, but it's much more than that.

Every character's style of combat tells you something about them. Odile, the Researcher, is the most well-travelled and knowledgable of the bunch. She's the one with the expertise to keep a cool head and analyze the enemy, yet also able to use all three of the Rock-Paper-Scissors craft types.

To reflect her analytical view of things, all her skill names are just descriptive, the closest to your most bog-standard RPG. "Slow IV" or "Paper III" serve well to describe their purpose. The high number of the skills gives the impression there were three other Slow skills beforehand - fitting, considering the party starts at level 45, about to head into the final dungeon. She's also the oldest, so she's the slowest of the bunch.

Isabea, the Fighter, has all his skills in exclamation points. "YOUR TURN!!!" "SO WEAK!!!" "SMASH!!!" they're straightforward, but excited. He's a purposefully cheerfull guy, so his skills revolve around cheering on his allies. He's absolutely pumped to be here, and you see that from his skill names alone.

Mirabelle, the Housemaiden, is an interesting case. She's by all means the true protagonist of this tale - She's the one "Chosen by the Change God," the only one who survived the King's first attack, the only one immune to his ability to freeze time, the only dual-craft type of the game - just a lot of things. And her skill names reflect that facade she puts on herself - she can do this, she can win! She has to believe it, or else she starts doubting. This is how you get "Jolly Round Rondo" and "Mega Sparkle Heal" or "Adorable Moving Cure." She's styled every bit a sailor scout shojo heroine, and her moveset replicates the naming conventions of "In the name of the moon, I'll punish you!"

Even Bonnie, the Kid, who can't be controlled in combat, has named craft skills. And they very much reflect that Bonnie is, well, a kid. "Wolf Speed Technique" or "Thousand Blows Technique" are very much the phrasings of a child who learned one complicated word and now wants to use it in everything to seem cooler than they are, which is none, because they're twelve.

Siffrin's skills are all puns.

You have an IMMEDIATE feel for personality here. Between "Knife to Meet You!" and "Too Cleaver by Half," you know Siffrin's the type to always crack a joke no matter the situation, slinging witticisms around to put Sonic the Hedgehog to shame. It's just such a clever way to establish character using a game mechanic as old as the entire history of RPGs.

This is only the baseline of the way the combat system feeds into the story, though.

The timeloop, of course, feeds into it. Siffrin is the only character who retains experience upon looping, whereas all other characters are reset to their base level and skills. And it sucks (affectionate).

You're extremely likely to battle more often the earlier in the game you are - after all, you need the experience (for now.) Every party member contributes, and Siffrin isn't all that strong on their own, since they focus on raw scissor type damage with the addition of one speed buff. (Of course it's a speed buff. They're a speedy fucker. Just look at him).

At first, the difference in level between Siffrin and the rest of the group is rather negligible. Just a level or two. Just a bit more speed and attack. And then Siffrin grows further and further apart. Siffrin keeps learning new skills. He gets a healing skill that doubles as an attack boost, taking away from both Mirabelle's and Isabeau's usefullness. He gets Craft skills of every type that even give you two jackpot points instead of one - thus obliterating Odile's niche. Siffrin turns into a one-person army capable of clearing most encounters all on their own.

Siffrin's combat progression is an exact mirror of story progression - as their experience inside the loops grows, they also grow further and further away from their party. The party seems... weaker, slower, clumsier. Always back at their starting point, just as all of their character arcs are reset each loop. Never advancing, always stagnant. And you have Siffrin as the comparison post right next to them.

I also want to point out here a change from Act 2 to Act 3 - Siffrin's battle portrait. He stops smiling.

Battles keep getting easier. This is true both for the reason that Siffrin keeps growing stronger even when all enemies stay the same, but also for the reason that you, the player, learn more about the battle system and the various encounters, until you've learned perfect boss clear strategies just from repetition. Have you ever watched a speedrunner play Pokemon? They've played this game so many times, they could do it blindfolded and sleeping. Your own knowledge and Siffrin's new strength work in tandem to trivialize the game's entire combat system as the game progresses.

(Is it still fun? Playing it over, and over, and over again? Is it?)

You and Siffrin are in sync, your experience making everything trivial.

As time goes on, Siffrin grows to care less and less about performing right for their party and more and more about going fast. A huge moment in his character is marked by the end of Act 3; because of story events I won't delve too deeply into, Siffrin has grown afraid of trying something new. And his options of escape are closing in. They need an answer, and they need it fast. He doesn't have the time or patience to dumb himself down, so you unlock one new skill.

It doesn't occur with level up, or with a quest, or anything at all. At the start of Act 4, it simply appears in Siffrin's Craft skills.

(Just attack.)

No pun. No joke. Just attack. Once you notice, the effect is immediate - here you have it, a clear sign of how jaded Siffrin has become, right at every encounter. And it's a damn good attack, too! The only available attack in the game that deals "massive" damage against all enemies. Because it doesn't add any jackpot points (at least, it's not supposed to), you set up a combo with everybody else, but Siffrin simply tears away at the enemy with wild abandon. Seperated from the rest of the party by the virtue of no longer needing to contribute to team attacks (most of the time. It's still useful if they do, though).

Once again, an aspect of the battle system enhances the degree of separation between Siffrin and the static characters of his play. You're incentivized to separate him, even.

Additionally, there are two more skills to learn. They're the only skills that replace previous skills. You only get them at extremely high levels, the latter of which I didn't even reach on both of my playthroughs.

The first, somewhere in the level 70 range, Rose Printed Glasses, a paper type craft skill, is replaced by Tear You Apart. It's still a pun about paper, but remarkedly more vicious.

The second is even more on the nose. At level 80, In A While, Rockodile!, a rock type craft skill, is replaced by the more powerful Rock Bottom.

I didn't get to level 80. If you do, you pretty much have to do it on purpose. You have to keep going much longer than necessary, as Siffrin is just done. And the last skill he learns is literally called Rock Bottom.

What do I even need to say, really.

Your party doesn't stay static forever, though.

By doing their hangout quests, side quests throughout the loops that result in Siffrin and the character having a heart to heart, all of them unlock what I'd call an "ultimate" skill. You know the type - the character achieved self-fulfillment, hit rank 10 on their confidant, maxed out their skill tree, and received a reward for their trouble.

These skills are massively useful. My favorite is Odile's - it makes one enemy weak to all Craft types for several turns, which basically allows you to invalidate the first and third boss, as well as just clown on the King, especially once Siffrin starts racking up damage.

But the thing is. In Act 3, when you first get them, yeah, they're useful. But... do you need them? After all, they're such a hassle to get. You need to do the whole character quest again, you can't loop forward in the House or you'll lose them. If you want to take these skills to the King, you need to commit. Go the full nine-yards and be nice to your friends and not die and not skip forward or skip back. Which is annoying, right?

Well, I sure did think so during Act 4. After all, a base level party can still defeat the King, just with a few more tricky pieces involved. Siffrin can oneshot almost all basic enemies by the time of Act 4. It's this exact evalutation that you, the player, go through everytime you return to Dormont. Do I want this skill, still? Would it not be faster to go on without it? I'm repeating myself, but that's the thing! That's what Siffrin is thinking, too!

I also want to take a quick moment to note, here - all skills gained from hangouts have art associated with them, which no other skills do. This feature, the nifty art, hammers home these as "special" skills, besides just how they're unlocked.

Siffrin also has one skill with associated art.

Yeah, you guessed it, it's (Just attack.)

At first, helping the characters is tied to a hefty in-game reward, but that reward loses its value, and in return devalues helping Siffrin's friends every loop. It's too tedious for a skill that'll make a boss go by one turn faster. You, the player, grow jaded with the battle system. Grinding experience isn't worth it, everybody's highest levels are already recorded. Fighting bosses isn't worth it, it's much faster to loop forward.

Isn't this what all endgame in video games looks like? You already beat the final boss, and now... what challenge is left? Is there a point to keep playing? Most games will have some post-game content. A superboss to test your skills against, but ISAT doesn't have any of that. You're forever left chasing to the post-game. That's the whole point - to escape the game.

As most games get more difficult as time passes, ISAT only gets easier. The game becomes disinterested in expanding its own mechanics just as I ran out of new things to fight after 100%-ing Kingdom Hearts 3. Every encounter becomes a simple game of "press button to win."

The final boss just takes that one up a notch.

Spoilers for Act 5 ahead boys!

In Act 5, Siffrin utterly loses it. His last possible hope for escape failed him, told him there's nothing she can do, and Siffrin is trapped for eternity. So of course, they go insane and run up the entire House without their party.

This just proves what you already knew - you dont need the party to proceed. Siffrin alone is strong enough. And here, Siffrin has entirely shed the facade of the jokester they used to be. Every single skill now follows the (Just attack.) naming conventions. Your skills are: (Paper.) (Rock.) (Scissors.) (Breathe.)

To the point. Not a moment wasted, because Siffrin can't take a moment longer of any of this. Additionally, his level is set to 99 and his equipment becomes fixed. You can't even pick up items anymore! Not that you needed them at this point anyway, right? Honestly, I never used any items besides the Salty Broth since Act 2, so I stopped picking items up a long time ago. Now you just literally can't.

Something I've not talked about until now - one of the main equipment types in this game are Memories, gained for completing subquests or specific interactions and events. They all by and large have little effects - make Odile's tonics heal more, or have Mirabelle cast a shield at the start of combat. For the hangout events, you also gain an associated memory that boosts the characters' stats by 30. It lets them keep up with Siffrin again! A fresh wind! Finally, your party members feel on par with you again!

...For a time. And just like that, they're irrelevant again, just as helping them gave Siffrin a brief moment of hope that the power of friendship could fix everything.

In Act 5, your memory is set to "Memory of Emptiness." It allows you to loop back in the middle of combat. You literally can't die anymore. Not that Siffrin could've died by this point in the first place, unless you forgot about the King's instant-kill attack. This one memory takes away the false pretense that combat ever had any stakes. Siffrin's level being set to 99 means even the scant exp you get is completely wasted on them. All stakes and benefits from combat have been removed. It has become utterly pointless.

Frustrating, right? It's an artistic frustration, though. It traps you right here in Siffrin's shoes, because he hates that all these blinding Sadnesses are still walking around just as much. It all inspires just a tiny fraction of that deep rolling anger Siffrin experiences here in the player.

And listen, it was cathartic, that one time Siffrin snapped and stabbed the tutorial Sadness, wasn't it? Because who enjoys sitting through the tutorial that often? Siffrin doesn't. I don't, either.

So, since combat is an useless obstacle now meant to inspire frustration, what do you do for a boss? You can't well make it a gameplay challenge now, no. The bosses of Act 5 are an emotional challenge: a painful wait.

First, Siffrin fights the King, alone. This is already nervewracking because of one factor - in every other run, you need Mirabelle's shield skill, or else you're scripted to die. You're actually forced to fight the King multiple times in Act 3, and have to do it at least once in Act 4, though you'll likely do it more. Point is: you know how this fight works.

You know Siffrin's fight is doomed from the outset, but all you can do is keep slinging attacks. Siffrin is enough of a powerhouse to take the King's HP down, what with the healing and buff skills they have now, not to even mention you can just go all in on damage and then loop back.

(And no matter which way you play it, whether you just loop or use strategically, it reflects on Siffrin, too. Has he grown callous enough not even death will stop their mission? Or does he still avoid pain, as much as he can?)

This fight still allows you the artifice of even that much choice, not that it matters. The other shoe drops eventually - Siffrin becomes slower, and slower. Unsettling, considering this game works on an Action Gauge system. You barely get turns anymore. The screen gets darker, and darker. Until Siffrin is frozen in time, just as you knew he had to be, because you know how this encounter works, know it can't be cleared without Mirabelle.

And, then, a void.

Siffrin awakens to nothingness. The only way to tell you've hit a wall is if Siffrin has no walking animation to match your button inputs. You walk, and walk, until you're approached by.... you. The next enemy encounter of the game, and Siffrin's absolute lowest point: Mal Du Pays.

Or, "Homesickness," in english. If you know the game, you know why it's named this, but that's not the point at the moment.

Thing is, where you could damage the King and are damaged in turn, giving you at least a proper combat experience, even if its doomed to fail, Mal Du Pays has no such thing.

You can attack. You can defend. But it is immune to all attacks. And in return, it does nothing. It's common, at least, for undefeatable enemies to be a "survive" challenge, but nope. The entire fight is "press button and wait." Except, remember the previous fight against the King? The entire time, you were waiting for the big instant death attack to drop. That feeling, at least for me, carried forward. I was incredibly on edge just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And, as is a pattern, Siffrin is, too. As Siffrin's attacks fail to connect, they start talking to Mal Du Pays.

But he gets no response, as you get no attacks to strategize around. The wait for anything to happen is utterly agonizing. You and Siffrin are both waiting for something to happen. This isn't a fight. It just pretends to be. It's an utter rugpull, because Siffrin was so undefeatable for most of Act 4 and all of Act 5 so far. It's kind of terrifying!

and it does. It finally does something. Ma Du Pays speaks, in the voice of Siffrin's friends, listing out their deepest fears. I think it's honestly fantastic. You're forced to just sit here and listen to Siffrin's deepest doubts, things you know the characters could not say because it references the timeloops they're all utterly unaware of. This is all Siffrin, talking to himself. And all you, all Siffrin, can do, is keep wailing away on the enemy to no effect whatsoever.

So of course this ends with Siffrin giving up. What else can you do?

And then Siffrin's friends show up and unfreeze them and it's all very cool yay. The pure narrative scenes aren't really the main focus but I want to point out here:

A) Mirabelle is in the first party slot here, referencing how she's the de facto protagonist, and Bonnie fills in the fourth slot left empty, which shows all characters uniting to save Siffrin

B) this is the only instance of the other party members having act specific battle icons: they're all smiling brightly, further pushed by the upbeat music

C) the reflecting shield Mirabelle uses to freeze the King uses a variation of her hangout skill cut in, marking it as her true "final" skill and giving the whole fight a more climatic feeling.

It's also a short gameplay sequence with Siffrin utterly uninvolved in the battle. You can't even see them onscreen. But... it feels warm, doesn't it? Everybody coming together. Siffrin doesn't have to fight anymore.

At last, the King is defeated. Siffrin and co. make for the Head Housemaiden, to have her look at Siffrin's sudden illness. Siffrin is utterly exhausted, famished, running a fever. And this isn't unexpected - after all, their skills in Act 5 had no cooldown. For context, instead of featuring any sort of MP system, all skills work on a cooldown basis, where a character can't use it for a certain number of turns. The lowest cooldown is actually Siffrin's Knife to Meet You, which has a cooldown of 1. In universe, this is reasoned as the characters needing a break from spamming craft in order to not exhaust themselves.

Siffrin's skills in Act 5 having no cooldown/being infinitely spammable isn't a sign of their strength - it's a sign that he refuses to let himself rest in order to rush through as fast as possible.

Moving on, Siffrin panics when seeing the Head Housemaiden, because seeing her means one thing: the end. Prior to this in the game, every single time you beat the King, the loop ends when you talk to the Head Housemaiden.

Reality breaks down, the whole shebang. It's here that Siffrin realizes - they don't want the loops to end, because the end of their journey means their family will leave, and he'll be alone again. The happiest time of his life will be over.

Siffrin goes totally ballistic, to say the least.

As it turns out (and was heavily foreshadowed narratively), Siffrin has been using Wish Craft to subconciously cause the timeloop because of their abandonment issues. It's rather predictable if you paid attention to literally anything, but it's extremely notable how heavily Siffrin is paralleled to the King, the antagonist they swore to kill by themself at the start of Act 5. The King wants to freeze Vaugarde in time because it is, in his mind, "perfect," for accepting him after he lost his home - a backstory he shares with Siffrin.

Siffrin has become the exact antagonist he swore to kill, and it's shown by how the next fight utterly flips everything on its head.

Siffrin is the final boss.

In a towering form made of stars, Siffrin looks down at their friends. His face is terrified, because of his internal conflict; he can't hurt his friends, but he can't let them go, either. The combat prompt is simply changed to "END IT!"

This fight is similar to the previous, in that you just need to wait a certain number of turns until its over. However, this time, it's not dreadful suspense. It's... confusion, and hesitance.

You have two options for combat: Attack your friends, or attack yourself.

And... you don't really want to do either, I think. I certainly don't. But what else can you do? It's Siffrin's desires clashing in full force. Attack your friends, and force them to stay? Or attack yourself, and let them go safely without you?

Worth noting, here - when you attack Siffrin's friends, you can't harm them. Isabeau will shield all attacks. And when you attack yourself, Mirabelle will heal you back to full. And the friends don't... do anything, either. How could they? Occasionally, Mirabelle heals you and Isabeau shouts words of motivation, but the main thing is...

(Your friends don't know what to do.)

None of them want to harm Siffrin. Both sides simply stare at each other, resolute in their conviction but unwilling to end it with violence. It's of note that this loop, the last one, is the only loop where the King isn't killed. Just frozen. And now here is Siffrin, clamoring for the same eternity the King was. Of course everything ends in a tearfilled conversation as Siffrin sees their friends won't leave him, even after the journey ends, but I still have to appreciate this moment.

Siffrin is directly put in the position with their friends as his enemies, forced to physically reckon that keeping them in this loop is an act of violence, against both their friends, and against himself.

It's a happy ending. But... what does it mean?

Of course, ISAT is obviously about the fear of change. Siffrin is afraid of the journey ending, and of being alone. However, ISAT is also a game about games. Siffrin is playing the same game, over and over, because it's comforting. It's familiar. It's nice, to know exactly what happens next. These characters might just be predictable lines of dialogue, but... they feel like friends. Have you ever played a game, loved it, put countless hours into it, but you never finished it? Because you just couldn't bear to see it end? For the characters to leave your life, for there to be a void in your heart where the game used to be?

After all, maybe it became part of your routine! You play the game every day, slowly chipping away at it for weeks at a time. For me, I beat ISAT in four days. It utterly consumed me during this time. I had 36 hours of playtime by the end. Yeah, in that week, I did not do much more than play ISAT.

And once i beat it, i beat it, again. I restarted the game to see the few scenes I missed, most specifically the secret boss I won't talk about here. I... couldn't let go of the game yet. I wanted to see every scrap I could. I still do. I'm writing this, in part because I still do. It's scary to let go.

Ever heard the joke term of "Postgame Depression?" It's when you just beat a game, and you're suddenly sad. Maybe because the ending affected you emotionally and you need to process the feelings it invoked, or you search for something that can now fill your time with it gone.

The game ends, for real this time, the last time you talk to the Head Housemaiden. But Siffrin gets... scared. What if everything loops back again? And so, his family offers to hold his hand. They face the end, together.

For all loops, including the ending, you never see what happens after. After they leave the loop for good. Because the loop is the game itself. It's asking you to trust that life goes on for these characters, and it holds your hand as it asks you to let go. There's a reason for Siffrin's theater metaphors. He is the actor, and the director, asking everyone to do it over one more time. He's a character within the game, and its player.

There's a reason I talked about endgame content. This, the way it all repeats, there's nothing new, difficulty and stakes bleed away as you snap the game over your knee - it's my copy of White 2 with two hundred hours in it. It's me playing Fire Emblem Awakening in under 3 hours while skipping every cutscene. Are you playing for the sake of play, for the sake of indulging in your memories, because you're afraid of the hole it'll leave when you stop?

Of note: the narrative never condemns Siffrin for unwittingly causing their own suffering. He's a victim of circumstance. It's seen as endearing, even, that Siffrin loves their friends to the point of rather seeing the world destroyed than them gone. But Siffrin is also told: we'll stay with you for now, but we'll part ways eventually. And one day, you'll have to be okay with it.

Stop draining the things you love of every ounce of enjoyment just because you're afraid of what happens next. I'm not saying to never play your favorite games again. Playing ISAT a second time, I still had a lot of fun! I saw so many new things I didn't before, and I enjoyed myself immensely, reading the same dialogue over and over. But... it makes me look at other games I love and still play, and makes me ask... is this still fun? Do I still need to play this game to enjoy it? Even writing this is an afterimage of my enjoyment, but it's a new way to interact with the game, to analyze it through this lens. Fuck, man, I write fanfiction. Look at me.

All of this, fanart, fanfic, analysis, is a way to prolong that enjoyment without making yourself suffer for it. Without just going through the motions of enjoyment without actually experiencing any. But one day, the thing you love won't be fun to talk and write and draw about. And it's okay. You'll have new things to love. I promise.

In the end.... I'm certain I'll replay ISAT one day. Between great writing, art, puzzles and unresolved mysteries, it's my shoe-in for game of the year.

But I won't replay it for quite some time. I've had enough, for now, so I let my love take other forms.

Siffrin is never condemned, because love is no evil. Be it love for another person, or for a game. And please, if you're overempathetic - it's still a game, at the end of the day. The great thing about games is that you can always boot them up again, no matter how long its been.

A circle within a circle indeed.

To summarize:

The repetitiveness of ISAT's combat, lack of new enemies, and Siffrin's ever increasing strength eventually allows you to snap the combat over your knee, rendering it irrelevant and boring. Though this may seem counterproductive at first, it perfectly mirrors how Siffrin has also grown bored with these repeated encounters and views them only as an obstacle to get past. The reflection of Siffrin's own tiredness with the player's annoyance increases the compassion the player has for Siffrin as a character.

Additionally, the endgame state of the combat system serves as commentary on the state of a favorite game played too often, much like how Siffrin has unwittingly trapped themself in the loop. Despite the game having no more challenge or content left to over, a player might return to their favorite game anyway, solely to try and recreate the early experience of actually having fun with it. This ties into ISAT's metanarrative about the fear of change and refusal to let go of comfort even when the object (here, your favorite video game) offering that comfort has become utterly bereft of any substance to actually engage with. Playing for the sake of playing, with no actual investment to keep going besides your own memories.

Later on, stripping away even the pretense of strategy for a "press button and wait" format of final bosses highlights the lack of options at Siffrin's disposal and truly forces the player into their shoes. Truly, the only way to win is to stop playing.

#feli speaks #in stars and time #isat #isat spoilers #lays down on floor. it's done. it's done #i actually narrowed down in scope to just focus on the combat by the way. and this is like. several thousand words

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 3 months

Text

hey maggots, it's Asmi again at half past 2 am, I think I may have just got a lung infection and stomach infection. if i don't reply to you via asks/dms/etc just know this is why. im so sorry for the ramble, the meds are here as well as the sickness now, and it's way too late. oops.

i'm making a post here because if i disappear mid-chat/DMs with any of you all, don't worry about me, okay? my body since today afternoon has been seizing up periodically due to whichever infections and it genuinely feels like I might faint when it happens. needless to say, i have to rapidly leave whatever chat i'm on to try and fix it. just wanted to tell you all now because it might happens without warning, my immune system is fucked up (read: I don't take care of my body) and i don't take kindly to being ill.

it's kinda bleurgh.

this is why i hurt whenever i see crowley, well, at least one of the reasons. no one goes and hugs him when the bentley is one fire.

i'm usually the one doing the comforting, and it feels kind of miserable right now. my mum's handling too much on her own so i can't lean on anyone irl for comfort.

i just want to say thank you all, because for the first time I've felt comforted. and right now that is so important to me, because my body is suddenly a wreck and there isn't anyone who'll just by me and give me a hug and tell me how everything will be fine. but you all keep reminding me that i'm loved and cared for.

that means a lot. i love you all.

i wanna type more but it's better that I go to sleep before another bought of nausea/pain. i can already hear you yelling at me, maggots, i will see the doctor tomorrow if it doesn't abate, i promise. okay?

alright running on borrowed time i love you all please take of yourself better than I do of myself. this has got very sentimental it was supposed to be a practical update about the DMs replying thing. oops. but i mean all of it.

byebye i hope it doesn't get worse this kind of is awful.

#good omens mascot #weirdly specific but ok #asmi #maggots #crowley

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yanderecrazysie · 4 months

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yandere bakugo! purge au? it’s time for the purge and its the perfect time to get his darling

I’ve been watching the Purge show with my little sister and we occasionally just text each other “The Giving is near, the Invisible awaits”. I love the purge movies so much, except the Forever Purge, I just didn’t like that one.

Title: 12 Hours

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, Bakugou’s scary lol

Summary: 12 hours when every crime is legal but with a twist- if you kidnap someone, they’re yours forever.

“You’re sure everything is locked down?” You asked, biting your lip nervously.

Your boyfriend smiled at you, “State of the art system. There’s nothing to worry about.”

You gave him a smile, but you followed it up with a sigh. You had a lot to worry about. You had gotten a note in the mail, two days before the purge, that read:

Dear (Y/n),

This is a notice that a Level 5 person(s) has been given permission to hold you indefinitely if you are captured during purge hours. We recommend staying inside and taking precautions to protect yourself.

Blessed be our New Founding Fathers,

NFFA Personnel.

Someone had requested permission to kidnap you forever, as long as they captured you on purge night. Who it was, you couldn’t even imagine.

Your house’s defense system was practically a joke. You didn’t have the money to get fancy equipment like everyone else had. That’s why your boyfriend, John, had offered to let you stay with him during purge night.

The thought had crossed your mind that John could be the crazy kidnapper, but you knew that he could have you any time he wanted to, so there wasn’t any point in kidnapping you.

John had an amazing security system. Not as good as, say, the NFFA members had, but still very good. You felt mostly safe to stay with him, but there was still an ounce of fear that wouldn’t go away.

You had looked up what “Level 5” meant and had discovered there were five levels of dangerous people classified for the purge. Level 1 was the lowest and, well, Level 5 was the most dangerous.

You had an extremely dangerous person after you. Who knew what they would do to you after kidnapping you? Maybe they would torture you all year long.

Your boyfriend turned on the TV and, a few moments later, the announcement played.

“This is not a test, this is your Emergency Broadcast System announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the U.S. Government. Weapons of class four and lower have been authorized for use during the purge. All other weapons are restricted.

“Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity and shall not be harmed. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime (including murder) will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and Emergency Medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7:00 a.m. when the purge concludes.

“Blessed be our new founding fathers and America... A nation reborn. May God be with you all.”

Even through the metal shutters, you could hear the sirens start. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“We’re in for a quiet evening, don’t worry,” John said, putting a comforting arm around your shoulder, “Should we get the wine out?”

“Yes, please,” you said shakily.

Your boyfriend walked over to the cabinets and pulled out a bottle of wine and a couple cups. He poured a generous amount of liquid into both cups and handed you one. You drank all of it in one go.

John laughed and refilled your cup, “It’s only 12 hours. That’s it.”

“12 hours is a long time,” you muttered, “A lot can happen in half a day.”

Ten hours passed uneventfully, the two of you watching the only channel that wasn’t showing highlights of the purge from cameras set up around the country or talking about the history of purging.

On the eleventh hour, someone knocked on the door. You froze in your seat, breath hitching in your throat from horror. Your boyfriend stood up, “It’s okay, no one can get in. I’ll check the front door camera.”

He checked the camera and smiled, “See, they moved o-”

The power went out.

A beeping sound filled the house and then the scraping of metal as the shutters began to rise. The security system had been disabled and was reversing itself.

Even in the dim light, you could see that your boyfriend had gone pale, messing with the system frantically to try to reset it.

Finally, he turned to you and said, “Get in the closet. I’ve got a gun and I’ll deal with anyone that comes inside.”

You were crying at that point, but you managed to nod. You ran to the closet and hurriedly closed it behind you. You pulled some clothes down from the rack and tried to use them to cover yourself. There was no lock, so you were absolutely toast if anyone looked inside.

You could hear the door open loudly, as though someone had kicked it open. Your ears strained, listening for any hint that your boyfriend would be okay.

A gunshot rang through the house and you hoped it was from your boyfriend’s gun and not the intruder’s. A loud, husky laugh followed the sound, “Nice try, extra.”

You covered your mouth as the sound of an automatic gun’s famous ratatata followed. You knew John only had a pistol. No doubt your boyfriend had just died.

“Y/n”, I know you’re in here,” the voice said loudly, almost playfully, “Might as well come out now, so I don’t waste time trying to find you.”

You had less than an hour left. If you could just stall him until the 12 hours were up, maybe you’d make it out alive.

Your breath hitched again as he came into the bedroom and you closed your eyes.

“Not under the bed. What about the closet?” You could hear the smirk in the intruder’s voice.

The closet door flew open and the clothes were pulled off of you. You looked up helplessly at the wild-haired blonde with blood red eyes as he crouched in front of you. He took your wrist in a crushing grip, grinning at you with victory, and hauled you up off the floor.

“C’mon, we only have one hour to get you home. Had to deal with a lot of shit tonight. But I’m sure your boy toy’s car will help us out, won’t it, baby?”

You hadn’t made it the whole 12 hours.

Your life was in his hands.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere one shot #one shot #yandere my hero academia #my hero academia #yandere bakugou #bakugou katsuki

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wintersoldiersoul · 7 months

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Hi.

Saw you are taking requests.

I got shingles the weekend close to my birthday, i confuse it with allergy because i am allergic to basically anything and then on my 24th birthday i got that it was actually shingles, doctor told me that my immune system went down and that is why i got it. Before that i was under so much stress because of work that i developed burn out and had to quit my job (literally spent months, weeks of my life visiting the emergency ward because i kept getting sick due to stress and burn out) probably that Triggered the shingles.

Could you write something with Bucky in which the reader suffers similar sh**? I just need comfort from my fave character 😭

If you dont feel comfortable is fine, i understand 😁

KUDOS!

I'm so sorry you went through that! I hope you are much better now. I tried to make this as medically accurate as possible (I texted my friend in med school LOL) but I am definitely not a doctor so if some stuff isn't accurate, just pretend it is.

You threw your hair up into a ponytail to get it out of your face. Hours slumped over at your desk weren't doing any favors. You grabbed the energy drink and chugged it to prevent your eyes from closing. You were almost done with this assignment. Just a little bit longer, you told yourself.

Working full time and being a grad student was taking a toll on you. You spent every day from 9-5 in your office and every night from 6-10 in classes. You crammed homework in anywhere you could, which often meant staying up most of the night. It was approaching 4am, now.

The office door creaked open and Bucky strolled in, sleep still filling his eyes. “Baby,” he sighed. “Come to bed.” He had woken up and the bed was cold without you beside him. He walked over to you, kissing your forehead.

“Can’t,” you mumbled without looking up from your computer.

“You gotta get some sleep, darlin’.”

You sneezed, still typing away. “I’m fi-” your words were interrupted by another sneeze.

Bucky stood, looking at you with a stern expression. “Well look at that. You’re getting sick.”

You waved your hand. “No, I’m not. It’s just allergies,” you said, sniffling. “You know this time of year is bad.” The past few months, you had been sick on and off multiple times. A cold, a small fever, you were sick more than you weren’t.

“Honey, please just get some sleep. You haven’t slept in days.” He was practically begging. He knew how much stress you were under and getting no sleep wasn’t going to help. He was extremely worried about you.

“Just give me 10 more minutes, okay?” You compromised.

“Fine. But I’m sitting right here and setting a timer. The second it goes off, I’m carrying you to bed.”

He did exactly that, throwing you over his shoulder when you didn’t get up immediately at the ring of his phone. Despite the intense amounts of caffeine you had consumed, you fell asleep the second your head hit the pillow.

Bucky woke up before you the next morning, smiling at your sleeping form. Your hair was sprawled over your face and he gently pushed it away to kiss your cheek. But as soon as he moved the strands, he noticed that your cheeks were flushed. He put the back of his flesh hand on your skin. Heat radiated off of your face before he even touched you. You were definitely sick.

He got up, being careful not to wake you. He left the bedroom returning a few minutes later with water, Advil, and a thermometer. You groaned as your alarm rang, sending shooting pains into your skull. You groaned, opening your eyes. You felt like absolute shit. Your whole body ached, your throat was on fire, and even your skin hurt.

“You’re sick.” Bucky stated, as if he was informing you.

“Yeah, I can tell,” you retorted, wincing at the pain in every cell of your body. He smiled softly, brushing your hair behind your ears.

“I got you some water and Advil. Can I take your temperature, doll?”

You nodded and he put the thermometer under your tongue. He looked it, eyes widening. “Shit baby, that’s not good. Your temp is 102.8. How do you feel?”

“Horrible,” you pouted.

He sighed. “I’m not surprised. That’s a really high fever, baby. I think we should go to the doctor.”

You groaned, not wanting to move. You felt so horrible that the thought of having to get up and out of bed was a nightmare. You felt like you couldn’t stay awake, eyes closing no matter how hard you tried to keep them open. “Can’t move,” you whispered, coughing slightly. “My whole body hurts so much. Just wanna sleep.”

Bucky didn’t know what to do. In his mind, sickness meant calling a doctor. He had spent so many years worrying about Steve back in the 40s, sitting with him while he got looked at. He still wasn’t used to how things were today. The google search he did on his phone told him that if your fever went above 103, to take you to the hospital. In his opinion, you were close enough that he wanted to rush you there right now, but he could see how exhausted you were.

“Alright, rest for now. But if it gets worse we’re going to the hospital.” You didn’t even hear him as you had already fallen back to sleep.

You woke up in a daze, cold sweat clinging to your body. You were shivering aggressively, shaking the entire bed. “Babe?” Bucky said, noticing you were awake. “You cold?”

You nodded, teeth chattering. He quickly grabbed you another blanket, wrapping you up like a burrito. He wrapped his arms around you, hoping that his body heat would help, too. One of the major perks of dating a super soldier was that the chances of getting him sick were very slim. He held you as close as possible, trying to keep you warm. “Oh, honey,” he whispered, voice dripping with sympathy.

“Can you take your temperature again for me?” He asked after your shivering had subsided a little bit. You put the thermometer back in your mouth, waiting for the beep. Bucky took it from you, heart stopping as he looked. “I know you don’t wanna move, but we gotta go to the ER. You’re at 103.6. That’s really really bad.”

You groaned. You felt so horrible, his words barely even registered in your mind. He picked you up and carried you to the car, whispering words of encouragement along the way. You closed your eyes again, finding it physically impossible to stay awake. Bucky held your hand the entire car ride before picking you up and carrying you into the ER. He let you sleep as you waited, positioning your head on his shoulder. He constantly watched you to make sure you were still breathing. He didn’t wanna wake you until he absolutely had to.

When you were finally called in, he shook you gently. “Can you walk?” He asked. You weakly nodded and he helped you to your feet letting you lean on his body as you went to the exam room.

The doctor hooked you up to an IV immediately to hydrate your sick body as they examined you.

“How have you been sleeping?” She asked you.

“Um, not great,” you answered, voice sounding raspy. “I’ve been under a lot of stress.”

“She hasn’t slept in a week,” Bucky interjected. “She’s been getting sick a lot these past few months since she started grad school.”

The doctor nodded. “Okay that’s very good to know.” She proceeded to ask you a few more questions and then said, “Did you have chicken-pox as a kid?”

You nodded. “Yeah. When I was 5.”

She carefully rolled up your shirt, revealing a rash on your side. “It looks like you have shingles. The stress you’ve been under seems to have weakened your immune system which is why you’ve been getting sick so much. It makes sense that with all of that the virus would come back now.”

Bucky held your hand. He was relieved that you had a diagnosis but of course he was terrified. Back in his time, that would have been a death sentence. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“I’ll be fine, Buck,” you answered.

“Yes,” the doctor agreed. “We’re gonna keep her here for at least tonight because your fever is so high. But you will be okay.”

Bucky exhaled. “Oh, thank god.”

“Can I go to sleep now?” You asked the doctor. You were so exhausted.

“Yes. I’ll let you rest,” she smiled before leaving the room.

“I’m so sorry you feel so shitty,” Bucky said, holding your hand. “Will this make you take it easy?”

“I don’t know what I can do to change anything,” you said with tear filled eyes. “Literally the only time I have to get things done is in the middle of the night.”

He looked into your eyes. He wanted to help you so badly that his heart ached. He wanted you to be happy and healthy. “What if you quit your job?” He suggested. “You only took this as a temporary thing anyway. I know you don’t wanna stay there when you’re done with school.”

“I can’t not have a job, Bucky,” you argued.

“Baby,” he looked in your eyes. “Do you have any clue how much the Avengers pay me?” He smirked. “Trust me, you don’t need a job.” You opened your mouth to argue, ready to tell him that you didn’t need his money. “I know you’re your own person and you can make your own money. And one day, with that brain, you will make so much all on your own. But baby, you’re drowning. You’ve been sick more days than not the past few months. Please, let me take care of you. Just for a bit. I’d never tell you what to do and if you really wanna stay, you can. But you’re killing yourself, darling. And I can’t just sit back and watch as it happens. Just think about it. Please.”

You lazily smiled. “Okay. I’ll think about it. But not right now. Right now, I need to sleep.”

He stroked your hair and kissed your forehead. “Go to sleep, my love. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

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somber-sapphic · 11 months

Note

hello! i’m like obsessed with your writing and would really like request another marina x reader with the 99.9% immunity and the milking it types of sickie. have a wonderful day/ night 😊

Sniffles and Snuggles

〖Notes: Wow, this is late. I'm sorry it took so long, please enjoy. I know the ending is a bit rushed.〗

〖Summary: Perfect immune system my ass.〗

〖Word Count: 1884 〗

〖Pairing: marina x reader〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gotten sick. Not an exaggeration, you genuinely couldn’t remember. Maya had a stomach bug a few months ago and she had assured you that you would end up getting it, basically promising that you would soon be joining her on the bathroom floor.

Not to brag, but you hadn’t. Instead, you’d managed to take care of the firefighter and Carina, who had succumbed to the same illness only hours after Maya. Your girlfriends were incredibly glad that you hadn’t gotten sick, both because they needed help (though they’d never admit it) and because you were….somewhat of a pain when you got sick.

It didn’t happen often, it practically never happened, but when it did you got hit hard. And when you got hit hard, you got a tad whiny. They both agreed that you had the right to be overdramatic when you got sick it was never a minor cold, it was the flu, pneumonia, food poisoning, strep, and even chickenpox. The three of you were all confused about that last one, but you had been holding onto your girlfriends with everything you had.

The morning you woke up with a stuffy nose and a sore throat you knew that you were in for a week of hell. The alarm blared in your ear, pleading with you to turn it off and get ready for the day. The sound hammered against your skull, pounding nails of fire into your brain. No matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t make yourself get up. You couldn’t move, your stiff limbs absolutely refused the orders to move.

“Y/n, turn it off,” Maya grumbled, nudging you in the hip with her knee. She was wrapped around Carina with one of her legs draped over your torso. The woman was practically the definition of a bed hog, but you couldn’t help but enjoy it. The way she starfished out across the mattress was so cute (most of the time).

When you didn’t move to quiet the alarm, she sat up, groaning loudly as she smacked the stupid device.

“I do not know why you’re complaining, it’s your alarm, Maya,” Carina said in response, a yawn following immediately after her sentence. The blonde smacked her phone until the blaring stopped and you let out a sigh of relief, curling back up so that you were a small ball.

“Y/n? Are you okay bambina?” The brunette asked, sitting up beside Maya. You sniffled in response, rubbing your knuckles against your runny nose. A harsh cough erupted from your lips, your chest burning and your body convulsing with each expulsion of air.

You leaned over the bed and spit a glob of mucus into the trash can, wondering what was wrong with you this time. The crackling in your lungs and what was probably a middle-grade fever suggested bronchitis. You’d heard Carina talk about medicine enough to diagnose yourself pretty well over the years.

Tears sprang to your eyes and you touched your throat, the light probing of the skin causing more pain somehow. You turned to squish your face into the pillow, trying to seem less babyish than you felt. Every time you got sick your emotions went absolutely haywire and it was humiliating.

One of your girlfriends (probably Maya, she was closer) laid a hand on the nape of your neck and gasped softly. You could practically see the worry on her face even though you were facing away from her.

“Car, she’s burning up.” The blonde murmured, getting a soft curse from Carina.

“She came to see me at the hospital the other day. It was overrun with flu patients.” The Italian replied, looking a little pleased with herself for remembering the expression. You rolled over, your lower lip quivering as you looked into the loving faces of your girlfriends.

Carina leaned across Maya and laid the back of her hand against your forehead, her expression souring. She tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear and rested her palm against your cheek lovingly.

You pulled away to sneeze into your pillow, the loud sound wearing you out even further. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time that you had felt so sick, but you knew that it would probably end in hospitalization if you didn’t cooperate.

You began to cry in earnest, shaking with coughs as your sobs irritated your throat and lungs. Maya, who wasn’t always the most physically affectionate, pulled you into a tight hug, allowing you to tuck your head under her chin, against her chest.

“Okay, babe. You chose the right time to get sick because Car and I both have the day off. Just lay back down and we’ll get everything taken care of. Does that sound good?” She murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

You sniffled and nodded into her chest, beginning to feel more comfortable with the idea of being sick. It was almost frightening to think that you would be alone, but knowing that the women you loved would be there to make sure that you didn’t die was nice.

“Did you feel sick yesterday Y/n?” Carina asked, prompting you to think back to the day before. Now that she’d mentioned it, you’d felt sort of heavy yesterday and a bit tired, but you’d chalked it up to a poor night's sleep the day before.

Maya had had a particularly bad nightmare and had woken up screaming. It had just been the two of you so it had fallen to you to take care of her, to calm her down. It had been a long night for the both of you, after she finally fell back to sleep you had remained awake just in case the blonde needed you again.

“Kinda.” You rasped, wrinkling your nose in shock at how your voice sounded. It was the first word that you had spoken during the conversation and you truly hadn’t expected to sound as bad as you did, especially in just one word. It was congested and hoarse and grated against your raw throat.

“Geez, that doesn’t sound great. I’ll go make you some tea, see if we can sort that out a bit.” Maya pecked your forehead before slipping from the bed and padded out of the room on bare feet, seeming to forget about the slippers which she typically wore.

You rubbed your nose against your fist and frowned over at Carina who was scooting closer to you, wearing what you liked to call her ‘doctor face’.

“Carina-”

“Hush. May I feel?” She asked, gesturing toward your throat. God, she was preparing to give you a full exam. You loved her very much, but you hated medical professionals. You coughed into your shirt and forced yourself to sit up, a rush of dizziness flooding through your head as you did so.

“Yeah.” You mumbled, giving a weak shrug. Carina placed her hands at the base of your throat, probing swollen glands with incredibly gentle hands. She moved up to under your eyes, frowning slightly as you winced when she pressed there.

“Your sinuses feel a bit swollen. Did it hurt?” You nodded and leaned forward to lay your head on yer shoulder.

“Oh, cara mia. In a few hours if you do not feel any better we can go to Grey Sloan and get you seen.” She said gently, rubbing your back in a comforting manner. You didn’t want to go to the hospital, but if she was right about a sinus infection you knew that you wouldn’t have much of a choice.

“Alright, I’ve got chamomile tea with lemon and honey and a thermometer,” Maya announced, walking back into the room with not only that but also a bottle of what may be the most vile thing on earth: cough medicine.

“Thank you.” You managed, taking the steaming mug gratefully. You blew on the hot liquid and took a careful sip, a soft smile spreading over your cracked lips. It was the perfect temperature and although you couldn’t taste it, you were sure that it was amazing. It soothed your throat and that’s all that mattered.

“Of course babe, it’s the least I could do. What’s with the face, Carina?” The blonde asked, nodding toward the Italian woman who was gnawing on her lip with worried eyes.

“We are going to end up in the hospital. It’s always the hospital with this one.” She grumbled, squeezing your elbow affectionately. There was no real malice behind her tone, just mild annoyance mixed with concern.

Maya chuckled and sat back on the edge of the bed, scooting you over a bit. She dragged the thermometer across your forehead, resting it on your temple as the three of you waited for the beep.

“We’ll try to avoid that this time, right Y/n/n?” You cracked a smile and took another sip of the tea, settling back into bed. For now, you weren’t going anywhere. “Oh, by the way, I snuck the medicine into the tea so you’re drinking it all.”

The look on your face must have been priceless because both women started to cackle, Carina even going as far as to double over as tears came to her eyes.

“That was uncalled for.” You grumbled, eyeing the drink in a new light. It wasn’t like you could taste the medicine, but knowing that it was in there made you hesitant to drink it. Part of you debated trekking to the kitchen to dump the whole thing out.

“Drink it all and I won’t help Carina make you soup later.” Maya threatened, reminding you of her utter lack of skill in the kitchen. She had given you and Carina food poisoning once over bad lasagna and you had vowed never to eat something she cooked again.

“Fine, I’ll drink. But I want cuddles. Will you give me cuddles?” The brunette on your left wrapped her arms around your waist and kissed your collarbone, pushing her nose against your skin.

“Of course bella. All of the cuddles. We can watch whatever movie you want and I’ll make Pastina with Maya locked in another room.” Carina chuckled, nudging the tea a bit closer to your face. You took a deep sip, almost finished with the mug.

Now that you knew it was in there what was left of your sense of taste was picking up on the medicine. It was no longer the best thing that had happened in days, it was now disgusting.

“You can’t taste for shit, stop complaining. Come on, one more sip and you’re done.” With a slight eye roll (which you regretted, it hurt) you took one big gulp, finishing the rest of the medicated tea.

“You win.” You rasped, shoving the mug back towards Maya, who was wearing an amused expression on her face.

“Thank you, my dear.” She singsonged, taking the mug as she leaned forward to kiss your forehead.

A non-fever-related blush crossed your cheeks and you hummed quietly, curling back up under the blankets. For now, you could relax. Maybe it would get worse, but even if it did, these two had your back. Dating an EMT and a doctor could really come in handy.

〖Join My Taglist!〗@lovelyy-moonlight, @bloomingflowersthings, @lots-of-pockets, @asiangmrchk13

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kisscara · 1 year

Note

Hey hey~! Can I perhaps request a light angst about reader getting really sick(not to the point where it’s fatal) but ends up coughing a lot and scara/wanderer gets scared because of what happened with the kid in his third betrayal??

(´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)♡

promise me? [scaramouche x gn!reader] ⎯⎯ angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, fatui!scaramouche

a/n: HURRAY an angsty req to get myself fired up and i hope you like this anonnie :3

scaramouche idly stands outside of the bedroom door. he looks down at the bowl of soup in his hands. his heart makes little tugs of pain each time he hears you cough and endless thoughts run through his mind as he recalls the way he lost someone else in the exact same way.

but you wouldn't. you'd never. all you've ever been to him is loving and understanding. surely, there's no way that you'll leave him so abruptly. then again, that's the way he thought with them. scaramouche hesitates before using one hand to push the door open. he enters the room with his eyes fixated on your figure.

"oh, scara, i told you that you didn't have to stay back today. aren't you-" you stop short to cough before continuing with a strained voice, "aren't you busy?" scaramouche mutters, "are you an idiot? i'm not leaving you home alone in this state." he sets down the bowl onto the drawer by the bed and sits with you.

you notice the way he avoids looking into your eyes as he slowly mixes the soup with a spoon. "i'll be okay, scara. you know me and my immune system." you make a futile attempt at comforting him. scaramouche lightly scoffs, "i never said i was worried."

you sink in your spot with a pout. "liar." at that, he finally looks up to meet your gaze but you turn your head the other way with your eyes closed. scaramouche huffs as he tries to feed you the soup, "don't be difficult, (name)." you lie down on the bed, eyes still closed, and you slip under the blankets.

"i'm not looking at you 'til you believe me." you say, voice muffled by the sheets. scaramouche deadpans, "c'mon, i do believe you. i... i'm not worried about anything, okay? worrying's for weaklings such as you." he puts the bowl back onto the drawer and pulls the blanket off, only to find nothing.

scaramouche looks around and notices your head of (color) hair at the side of the bed. he gets onto the mattress and peers to where you were sitting on the floor. "i don't like it when you think like that, scara." you murmur, picking at your nails. he joins you on the floor. "think like what?"

you finally look at him and your soft gaze is one full of sorrow. "like i'm going to leave you." scaramouche gulps at your words and looks away, only to be stopped by your hand gently cupping his cheek to face you. "i love you and you know that, or do you?" you query.

he tightly holds your hand holding his face, "i do! i do know that, i just..." scaramouche's eyes scan yours for anything. 'say something, please.' he's begging and tears blur his vision. you wipe a falling tear, "if you know i love you, then why can't you put your full trust in me?"

you sniffle as your own tears peek at the corner of your eyes, "it hurts me to know that you think i'll leave you in the blink of an eye." scaramouche shakes his head and his vulnerable side comes out into the light. "no, no, it's... i don't want you to end up like him." there's parts where his voice cuts off and you sigh.

"i promise you," you push your lips against his and whisper, "i won't leave you but you have to promise me that you'll do the same and that you'll trust me from now on." scaramouche falls silent. you tear up even more, "promise me, kunikuzushi." he wavers before holding your face in his hands. "i promise, (name)."

you thinly exhale, "thank you." scaramouche gives you one last kiss of reassurance. "i promise." he plants kisses all over your face and neck before returning to your lips. you laugh and hold him back by his shoulders, "dear, you're going to get sick." scaramouche mumbles, "i can't get sick so,"

he wraps your waist in his arms, "let's stay together just a little while longer." you bury your face in his neck, "okay." you pull away and get back onto the bed, "now, are you still going to feed me?" you smile as he sits by you. "yes, now come here. i'm going back to work tomorrow, so you better be well by the morning."

you sit on his lap and he holds a spoonful of the soup in front of your mouth. you carefully sip it as to not spill any and burn your tongue from the heat, no less. scaramouche is bound to get another spoonful but you stop him by hugging his torso. "i feel better already."

scaramouche's pupils dilate.

he rolls his eyes, "that's not going to work on me. i know you hate ginger soup but you have to take this." you whine, "but seriously, it tastes bad..." scaramouche tsks, "do you want to stay sick forever?" you look at him and grin, "yeah. so then, you'll stay home everyday and take care of me!"

scaramouche places a hand on your head, "no. finish eating or i'll make you take medicine instead." you panic and sit up, "but that's not fair! i had one spoon, that should be enough!" scaramouche squints at you, "a spoon of soup is not the same thing as a spoon of medicine."

you grip fistfuls of your hair in frustration, "i thought the fatui were stupid!" scaramouche scoffs, "not me, because i chose you." you pause and sputter out in a laugh, "you're so corny." he gets out of the bed, "medicine it is."

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cozybearz · 3 months

Text

I’ve been wanting to make this post for a bit. My friends have been dealing with housing insecurity and difficulty covering living expenses for them and their two dogs for a few months now, they are both immunocompromised, at high risk for Covid, and under a lot of stress daily. If you can donate to them either directly and/or through their fundraiser, and also share this post, it would be so greatly appreciated

heres the fundraiser link, and direct donations are also super helpful and needed

Cashapp: $LelandChazen

Venmo: artbydykes

(description from their fundraiser page explaining their situation below)

“Hi everyone! I’m Leland. My wife’s name is Eve and we have two sweet dogs named Rickie and Ralphy. We live in a travel trailer near Astoria, Oregon.

Eve and I are both immunocompromised and high risk for contracting Covid-19. This would likely prove fatal for me and cause Eve to have long lasting health effects.

Unfortunately, I lost my job working for Trans Lifeline as a Crisis Hotline Operator in December 2023. It was a remote job that I loved very much. The organization furloughed and fired direct service workers rather than the folks that are making six figures (who have let the organization down greatly.)

Hotline Operators are peer support workers who take calls from Trans folks in crisis—some are suicidal or are in the act of committing suicide. It’s a very hard job. Unfortunately, we are the most underpaid staff within the organization. It is nearly impossible to have a savings account when you’re trying to make sure your bills are paid and you have food on the table.

By firing the most important, yet vulnerable staff, Trans Lifeline knew they were putting Trans employees in dire situations.

I have to work remotely to keep myself safe. Since I was fired in December, I have been applying to jobs daily. It is incredibly hard to find remote work.

Since losing my job, Eve and I lost our housing, forcing us to live in a travel trailer which has been a very difficult situation. We have had flooding leading us to be without running water and a working toilet. On top of that, the trailer was incredibly moldy, which was a blow to both of our immune systems.

We cannot afford basic necessities, our vital medical prescriptions, doctors appointments, dog food, gas and masks.

We are now two months behind on our car payment and a month behind on our trailer payment.

To make matters worse, a few days ago our tire flew off of our truck. Luckily, we were unharmed, but we are without a safe, working vehicle that we rely on, as we live in the woods. Nothing is within walking distance.

The stress this has caused is severe. It has exacerbated my chronic illness symptoms and my mental health is suffering.

We are at risk of having both our car and home repossessed.

I am still waiting on unemployment. However, $1000/month does not cover our expenses. It doesn’t come close.

Please help us stay afloat for the next few months, as I desperately try to find a new job.

❤️,

Leland and Eve”

#i unfortunately live far away from them and also dont have income so i can only help a little bit #but they’ve been dealing with so much and can use any help anyone can give with covering their basic living expenses #long post #mutual aid

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susiephone · 6 months

Text

Or, a crash course in checking your sources. Because we've all seen some absolutely bullshit stuff spread around the internet, and Tumblr definitely isn't immune to it.

It can be hard to sort out the fact from the rumor from the propaganda when a story is actively developing, especially one that is fast-moving and has a lot of voices coming in from all sides, but it is vitally important that you check your sources before spreading a claim.

It's easier to verify or disprove a claim about something that's purported to have happened in the past, so, admittedly, checking stuff that's purported to be happening now is a messy, confusing process. All the more reason to err on the side of caution.

I am not a journalist or professional researcher or historian or anything like that, so this is all coming from a layman who does their best to be informed. If I get anything wrong, or anyone more qualified has something they want to add, please let me know in the notes.

Why should I check my sources?

Because you should care whether you're spreading propaganda or not.

Because sometimes in the heat of the moment, when emotions are running high, it's easy to be misled.

Because every time you spread misinformation to help your own cause, even - or especially! - if that cause is righteous, it becomes a ding on your credibility, and the credibility of your cause.

Because when you don't, a journalist loses their wings. Probably. Fact-check me on that.

How do I know when to check my sources?

If you don't recognize the source, check it.

If you hear a claim and think, "Wow, that is so cartoonishly evil," or, "That's so absurd I'd think it was far fetched if it was in a movie," or, "It's weird no mainstream outlets are reporting on this," check it.

Now, a claim sounding too bizarre or evil to be real doesn't always mean it isn't--I mean, half of what I hear about George Santos sounds like an SNL sketch and it always ends up true. But check it.

If the claim sounds like something a Nazi would want you to believe, check it.

If a claim is only being spread by one or two small sources, check it.

How do I check my sources?

The following sites are great resources for fact-checking.

PolitiFact. Ranks claims on a truth-o-meter and provides context for what's true, mostly true, kinda true, and made-up.

Media Bias/Fact Check: Publishes lists of fact checks from other credible sources, and ranks media outlets on their bias and trustworthiness.

Climate Feedback: Verifies claims about science, especially climate change.

Lead Stories: Verifies claims as they develop, especially stuff spreading on social media.

Here is a list of sources Media Bias/Fact Check considers to be the least biased.

What are some red flags to search for? / What are some questions I should ask myself?

Does the claim only come from a handful of small sources?

Do all those sources only cite each other?

It bears repeating: does this claim sound especially sensational or over-the-top? I know it sounds basic, but when you're furious at somebody (be it a person or a government or a system), it can be easy to believe every horrible thing you hear about them. But just because someone is awful doesn't mean every rumor about them doing awful things is true, and you still have a responsibility to keep your criticism accurate.

Who provides funding to the source? Do they work off of grants, reader donations and subscriptions, government backing, private donors? Do they not disclose their funding at all?

Has the source been caught spreading false info before? How long ago was this? Did they issue a correction in a timely manner? Was the journalist who spread the false claim fired or otherwise reprimanded? Does it seem like it was a mistake, or was there an agenda at play? Has the source taken steps to reestablish credibility?

Who benefits from me believing this?

Okay, I did all my fact-checking, and I'm really not sure if this claim is true or not.

Then don't share it.

If more information comes out and it turns out to be true, then go ahead.

But if there's doubt, don't share it.

Okay, sure, but the claim sounds like it could be true, and-

"Could be true" and "is true" are not the same.

Fine, but the person or government it's talking about has already done so many awful things, even if this specific rumor isn't true-

DON'T. SHARE. IT.

I am going to come to your house and bite you.

Further information.

How to fact-check like a pro.

The Psychology of Fact-Checking.

What is fact-checking?

Misinformation (YouTube video)

And there we go! If anyone has anything to add, go ahead, but I will be monitoring the comments and will be blocking any nonsense.

There's enough misinformation spread by bad actors in our current media landscape. Please don't make their job any easier.

#politics #journalism

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thelonelyempath · 1 year

Text

Sick Prompts II

1. “If you even so much as look like you’re about to pass out, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

2. “You don’t have to pretend you’re fine for me.”

3. “You were so sound asleep you would’ve missed the fire alarm going off if I didn’t wake you.”

4. “I’ll bring you some food. It’s almost time to take your meds anyway.”

5. “If I see you leave that bed even once, I’m going to physically manhandle you back into it.”

6. “No kisses until you’re better!”

7. “Baby, it’s just a stomach ache. You’ll be fine.”

8. “I told you eating that would make you sick.”

9. “Darling, look at me. How many fingers am I holding up?”

10. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

11. “Don’t even think about going to work/class today.”

12. “After all of the times I’ve told you it’s a bad idea, you still insist on going out to play in the rain.”

13. “You know I love you more than anything else in the world, but please cover your mouth when you sneeze.”

14. “We’re almost there, love. Just stay with me a little bit longer.”

15. “Nightmare, huh? Must’ve been a fever dream.”

16. “Scoot over. It’s cuddle time.”

17. “Would you rather go to work/class and suffer because you obviously don’t feel well or stay in bed and get cuddles and forehead kisses and watch movies?”

18. “You can’t say the words vomit and okay in the same sentence.”

19. “You’re sick. Let me baby you.”

20. “No one is expecting you to get over this immediately.”

21. “Why are you so dramatic whenever you get sick?”

22. “Can you even keep water down right now?”

23. “I know you hate hospitals and all, but I’m taking you to one. Get in the car.”

24. “Okay Ms./Mr. I’m-not-sick, tell me why you sneezed five times in the span of an hour.”

25. “Please take your medicine, love. It’ll help you get better.”

“26. “Well considering the fact that you’re shivering, the circles under your eyes are five times darker than they were two days ago, and your forehead feels like it’s on fire, yeah I’d say there’s a pretty good chance you’re sick.”

27. “I love you. I really do. But your immune system is shit.”

28. “Go to bed, darling. You need to be resting.”

29. “You’ll live.”

30. “Oh my, 103. That’s not good.”

31. “When we get home, I’m gonna wrap you like a burrito in my thickest blanket and put on your favorite movie.”

32. “I’ll be honest, babe. You’re kinda cute when you’re all cranky.”

33. “You need to eat, love. Just a little bit for me.”

34. “You look absolutely miserable.”

35. “Ooh. That cough sounded like it hurt.”

36. “How bad is the pain right now from 0 to 10?”

37. “Aw, poor thing.”

38. “How’s your head feeling?”

39. “Would it make you feel better if I put a warm towel on your head played with your hair?”

40. “Don’t just stand around doing nothing! Get him/her some water for god’s sake!”

41. “We’re not gonna watch a sad movie. If you cry, you’ll get more congested.”

42. “As adorable as you look in my hoodie, I’m gonna ask that you please wash it before giving it back.”

43. “Come to bed, love. I’d be kind of a terrible boyfriend/girlfriend/partner if I just let you sleep on the bathroom floor.”

44. “I find it really odd that you act all big and tough, but become a baby when you’re sick. But that’s okay. You’re my baby.”

45. “Don’t even try and tell me you’re not delirious. You have spent all day mumbling abstract nonsense to yourself.”

#sickfic #sickfic prompts #otp prompts #otp sick prompts #writing prompts #sick prompts #sickfic sentence starters

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softblesses · 3 months

Text

Summer Colds.

In which Neal and Elizabeth suffer, and Peter is there to fix it.

Pretty much another classic sick fic of my favourite hyperfixation rn! Please don’t reblog to non kink/whump blogs. Hope you enjoy!

Part 1.

“You’re sick,” Mozzie stated matter of factly, whilst wandering alongside Neal, in the streets of New York.

“I’m fine.” Neal muttered back, rubbing a knuckle under his nose in an attempt to put a stop to the itch.

“You’re not fine! You never sneeze. Like, ever, so unless you can explain the past ten minutes? I’m staying ten steps away, my friend. Ten. Steps. Away.”

“Mozz, you’re being dramatic. It’s nothing, it’s just —“ Neal stopped walking, bringing his elbow to his face. Mozzie was right, but he was hanging on to the small dregs of hope that this was all random and he wasn’t getting sick after all.

‘Heh’kshu!’ The sneezes told a different story.

“Gesundheit. Now, why don’t we do the sensible thing and double back to June’s instead of breakfast? You can go to bed, I’ll get you some medicine and then I’ll make scarce!” Mozzie took a few steps back towards Neal, rolling his eyes at the sound of his cellphone ringing.

He folded his arms, tapping his foot as he listened to his friend speak. “The suit wants you to work?” He questioned, after Neal hung up.

“Elizabeth’s workplace got robbed,” Neal explained, pocketing the phone. “She’s okay, but Peter wants to investigate. Don’t look at me like that, Moz. It’s just a stuffy nose. It’s probably just… allergies, or something.”

“You don’t get any kind of pollen allergies, wise guy.” Mozzie pointed out. “Let me know if El needs my… expertise. I’ll be at breakfast, while you go and tango with the bureau, Sneezy.”

“Yeah, yeah. See you later, Mozzie.” Neal watched him walk away, checking his watch; Peter would be here to pick him up soon.

After almost ten minutes, Peter was parking by the sidewalk and Neal climbed into the back seat; they were picking up Elizabeth, so he naturally assumed she’d go up front.

“Hey, Neal.” Peter greeted, and it was already obvious he was stressed.

“I’m sure Elizabeth is fine,” Neal replied, buckling his seatbelt.

His handler only sighed, driving off again. “I told her to stay home today,” he continued, without acknowledging Neal’s statement.

“Stay home?”

“Yeah… she’s sick, and she already worked from home for a couple days. I just — well, El thinks I’m being too dramatic. It’s just a cold, but, still.”

Ah. That explains how Neal caught what he has. “You worry a lot,” he confirmed. “But, I’m sure Elizabeth appreciates it. She’ll be okay, and I’m sure she’ll work from home tomorrow.”

There was a long pause, before Peter sighed again. They stopped in traffic, and he took a look in the mirror back at Neal. “Maybe you’re right,” he hummed.

“I’m right? Really?”

“Alright, don’t push it.”

“Are you sure you’re not getting sick?” Neal teased, although unbeknownst to Peter he was the one feeling under the weather; Neal’s throat itched, and so did his ears, and he couldn’t breathe through his nose or he’d sniffle and it would make him sneeze again.

“My immune system is top notch, and you know it.” Peter pointed out. “I’m feeling fine.”

“Even when sleeping with Elizabeth?”

Peter shot him a glare in the mirror, and Neal held up his hands. I meant sleeping as in sharing a bed! That’s a sure fire way to get sick.” He scrunches his nose, trying his best to quell the ever growing itch.

“Huh. And, you’d know, wouldn’t you?” The man jested back, falling quiet as they neared their destination.

Neal rolled his eyes at Peter’s comment, but for lack of energy and realisation that he was about to park the car again, he stayed quiet. Peter told him to stay put, and explained that he wasn’t going in as FBI — Elizabeth had a bunch that the lead thief was one of her colleagues. It was an interesting sounding case, but right now the CI was too focused on holding back a sneeze. And, as soon as Peter had closed his car door and stepped away from it, Neal buried his face into his elbow and inhaled sharply.

‘Hh’sSHhu, k—tch’tcH. Ugh. Shit.’ He sighed, making quick work of blowing his nose into the handkerchief in his pocket, placing it back just in time for Peter to open the door for Elizabeth.

“Honey, I promise, I’m fine — hey, Neal — a little shaken up, I guess, but I feel alright! You worry too much.” Elizabeth huffed a little, waiting for her husband to get in the car beside her. She didn’t sound extremely sick, but Neal could definitely hear the congestion in her voice.

Peter climbed in the car, and leaned across to feel El’s forehead. She didn’t look impressed. “I know, I know. I worry too much! We have to take your statement back at the office, is that okay? I’ll work from home after that.”

Neal’s eyebrows raised a little at that.

“You’re coming too, Neal. You’re not getting out of work that easily.” It was like Peter had read his mind. “We can —“

‘hu’tsh, tch, tshh. . Huh’tcHoo.’

“Bless you,” Peter and Neal rang in sync, whilst the agent continued to rub his wife’s back.

“Sorry,” El apologised softly, pocketing her tissue and leaning back in the seat with a heavy sigh.

“It’s okay, Hon. Neal, I’ll explain everything to you when we get to my place. Let’s get this statement over with so we can all relax.” Peter leaned across to kiss El on the cheek, before starting up the car.

•••

The conference room was dark, with the shutters closed and the lights turned off. It was like a welcoming blanket of calm, and immediately Neal felt the ache in his head dissipate a little. He quietly closed the door, glancing over at El, who was sitting on the couch scrolling through her phone, on low brightness mode.

“Neal,” she greeted softly. “Everything okay?”

“Peter sent me to check on you,” it was only a tiny, white lie. “And, I’d much rather sit in here with you. Peter gets grumpy when he’s worried.” Neal muttered, wandering in and closing the door behind him.

Elizabeth watched him for a moment, eyebrows raised. “Really? No other reason?” She questioned, still watching him.

“No other reasons.” Neal took a seat in one of the spinning chairs by the conference room table, and rubbed his eyes. They were almost as itchy as everything else; his nose itched, his ears felt stuffy as well as itchy. . . He was starting to feel worse, and if anyone was going to figure him out, it was Elizabeth Burke.

“Neal, are you okay? You’ve been acting off since we were in the car.” Elizabeth pressed on, and Neal sighed in semi-defeat.

“If I told you I had a headache, would you stop asking?” Neal muttered, trying not to sound agitated, and somewhat failing.

There was a pause, and El coughed slightly. “No. Does your throat hurt?” She continued, and Neal spun a little in his chair.

“Maybe.”

“Stuffy nose?”

“A little.”

“So, you’re sick. I knew it.” Elizabeth muttered.

“Which means, this is my fault,” she concluded next. “I’m sorry, Neal.”

He shook his head, reaching into his pocket for the silk handkerchief he’d been hiding away. He rubbed at his nose, and sniffled; revealing the oncoming congestion he’d been trying so hard to cover up for the past couple of hours. “It’s not your fault,” Neal finally spoke, pocketing the handkerchief.

“Know anyone else with a summer cold?” El quipped back, and he could imagine the look she was currently giving him.

With a heavy sigh, Neal leaned to rest his head against his arms, on the tabletop in front of him. “Elizabeth B — wait, what’s your middle name?” Neal asked, sitting up again and squinting over at her.

“Why?”

“Just.. humour me, just for a second.”

“It’s Laura.”

Neal inhaled, and stood up. “Elizabeth Laura Burke, why are you so irritatingly observant?” He exhaled, sniffling afterwards.

A laugh fell from her lips at that, which proceeded into a cough covered by a fist. “Marrying an FBI agent might have had something to do with it,” she smiled, patting the space next to her. “Neal George Caffrey, you know it’s alright to let your guard down here, hmm?” El’s voice softened, watching him as he sat.

He shifted slightly, and El could tell that he was uncomfortable. Although, the eventual albeit very quiet “I know,” was comforting. “That’s why I told you so easily.” Neal murmured, leaning back against the couch with a shiver.

“And, because whatever meds you dosed up with this morning are starting to wear off?” Elizabeth teased, gently reaching to feel his forehead. A little warm, but nothing alarming.

“Stop being right.” Neal grumbled, before quickly leaning away and burying his face into the crook of his arm.

‘Hu—ngxT. . . HheisHhhoo—ugh.”

“Bless you,” Elizabeth murmured, rummaging around in her purse for a new packet of tissues, and gently nudging him before offering them out.

Neal practically whined, taking a moment to use one of the tissues, before leaning back against the couch with another little shiver. Elizabeth frowned, about to suggest asking Peter to take them home sooner, when the glass door behind them opened.

“Sorry that took so long,” Peter’s voice announced. “Ready to go?”

The CI’s demeanour was quick to change — he sat up straight, cleared his throat and plastered on a signature Neal Caffrey smile in greeting. “Am I still coming?” He questioned nonchalantly, scrunching his nose and trying his absolute best not to sniffle again.

“Yep,” Peter responded. “We’re working from home today. Which means better coffee and some proper rest for El.” He offered out his hand for his wife, who stood and wandered towards him. She took a glance back at Neal, that was wordlessly saying ‘are you going to tell him, or am I?’ But, the CI simply followed behind them, shaking off whatever discomfort he was currently feeling for now.

Seconds after leaving the comfort of the dark room behind them, both Elizabeth and Neal squinted at the harsh lighting that illuminated the bullpen. Barely seconds later, the pair both paused and comedically in sync sneezes caused Peter to stop in his tracks and turn. “Bless y—whoever just sneezed.” He frowned, watching his wife continue to do so, and Neal turn around to put his back to him.

‘Hhh—ngxXt.’ The CI spun back around, sniffling desperately, and faced with a quizzical look from Peter.

“What, you’re sick too, now?” He questioned, folding his arms.

Neal shook his head. “The lights are too bright, Peter. You should really get someone to — snf — fix that.” He straightened himself up, and glanced sideways at El, who didn’t seem all that pleased with the holdup.

“Right,” Peter muttered, gesturing for the pair to follow him again.

“You wouldn’t understand. Having striking blue eyes isn’t all fun and games,” Neal continued, ignoring the look he got from Elizabeth beside him. He didn’t want to tell Peter he felt lousy, not yet. It was awkward, and he wasn’t used to being so open about vulnerability… besides, he just needed some more meds and he’d be fine to work the case.

On the elevator ride back down, El wrapped her arms around Peter and rested her head against his chest. It was obvious that her meds were wearing off too, although all Neal could do was uncomfortably shift on his feet until they reached the parking garage. He shivered, rubbing his eyes again, and followed Peter and El to the car in silence. Even when sitting in the back, he was uncharacteristically quiet, and at this point Peter wasn’t very convinced that his excuses earlier were true… because, a quiet Neal Caffrey was always something to be suspicious of.

When they got back, El told Neal to wait upstairs and she’d find him something comfortable to wear. Peter waited until the CI was out of earshot, before turning to his wife with a questioning expression. He led her into the living room, bringing her into his arms and waiting a moment before speaking.

“El,” he began. “What’s wrong with Neal?” He figured that if Neal was going to tell anyone, it would probably be El.

His wife faltered, looking up at him with a slightly guilty look. “Why would he tell me?” She replied, resting her head back against Peter’s chest with a congested sigh.

“Because you’re Elizabeth Burke — kind, soft, warm and caring. I can imagine Neal would talk to you, given the right circumstances… you were alone, maybe his guard was down.”

“Well, I kinda guessed. He eventually told the truth.” Elizabeth admitted. “I feel awful about it. I didn’t want to get anyone sick.”

Peter pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Speaking of awful, how are you feeling now?” He asked, leaning back to look at her.

“A little less than awful.”

“But, not great?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “D’you still need me to help with anything in the case?” She asked quietly.

“All I need for you to do is go and change into something comfortable and lie down. We can talk work later, once you’ve rested. I’ll come check on you in a half hour… I guess I should check on Neal too, huh?”

“I’ll check on him before I go to bed. I love you.”

#snzblr #snz #sneezeblr #sickfic #snz scenario #w/hite co/llar #n/eal is so cute I love him #I just love them #I hope y’all like this!! probably one or two more parts to come #snz thoughts

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historia-vitae-magistras · 8 months

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I want to clarify that my intention is not to be unkind or instruct you on how to handle your emotions. However, discussing self-harm in the manner you do can be highly distressing, and using threats of self-harm to manipulate others, even if it feels valid at the moment, is a concerning and manipulative behavior. Please seek help.

Trigger warnings for body horror, death, illnesd and blood and gore.

Okay this has been sitting in my box for a bit and I was very concerned with just what the unholy hell you were talking about but then I realized what "bleed to death if they're mean to me" must sound like outside of my own head.

In a very abstract way, you're right. It is self harm but it's an autoimmune disorder. It's my immune system misfiring and hurting me, not a mental illness manifestation. Think of it as a friendly fire incident. The body mistakes friendly cells for for bacteria and attacks them. For me, this is hemolytic anemia. Hemolytic anemia isn't common, only making up about 5% of all anemias diagnosed, but considering how misdiagnosed it is and how common anemia is, it's something that should be talked about more.

So hemolytic anemia as a bodily process is somewhat common but mine as originates from a specific genetic pattern I inherited from my French Canadian parent is pretty rare and dramatic. But the general gist is that red bloodcells carry oxygen and white blood cells are your immune system so when I'm ill or stressed (hence the being mean to me part lol) my body copes by firing off white bloodcells to destroy my red blood cells. And without the oxygen carrying cells, oxygen can't be delivered. It can be much like normal anemia where a heavy period hinders your bloods ability to deliver oxygen and makes you tired and cold and ill.

That part you can get used too. In me however, having that rare sort and being very young and until recently an unencumbered immune system, I have gone from fine to, and I mean this in the most frank of ways, bleeding to death without opening a vein in less than an hour. I can destroy blood so fast they've rigged me up to two bags of blood at once to compensate. Not quite as fast as say, opening up a wrist in the bathtub, but considering I don't choose when it happens, it's not what anyone would consider ideal conditions to finish a degree under.

So yeah, if you're depressed, get your mental and physical health checked out! Your mental health is important! If you're feeling ill and weak and cold, see a doctor. If your piss suddenly turns black, your fingernails and lips go blue and your eyes or skin turn yellow, take your ass to the ER. This has been a PSA from your local blood sucker. Cheers!

#the ask box || probis pateo #not Hetalia #autoimmune hemolytic anemia #autoimmune diseases #spoonies #chronic illness

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anaveragebibliophile · 1 year

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All Smiles (Carlisle Cullen x OC)

You’d think that that part would’ve been easy. You’d think that the minute he heard of the vision he’d have run. You’d think that that insatiable desire to fight for his family would’ve sparked a fire within him to leave and allow Rosalie and Emmett to take the reins.

No. Not by a long shot.

Instead, here we were two hours later. Still on the couch. Still nowhere closer to getting him to see reason.

“I can’t just leave you, El,” my husband said. “You’re still ill, and you’re not getting any better. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened while I was away.”

Placing a hand on my growing belly, I gave him my most disapproving look. Once his eyes caught mine, he immediately looked away, chagrined.

Clearing my throat, I began. My voice was even hoarser than in days past (if that was even possible at this point).

“Honey, let’s be realistic here. You staying here isn’t going to increase the probability of a timely recovery any more than you leaving. What’s more, this little guy enjoys the pampering I’m getting. He’s not going to want to end this anytime soon.”

As a phoenix, a resurrector of the dead and believer in the goodness that the life of all beings brings, I’m capable of connecting with any being, those that are living, dead, or on the periphery. In this case, our son, the little dude in my belly, would be considered as a being on the periphery. He’s alive but not co-existing with us in the land of the living just yet. However, despite that, I have been able to establish a connection with him that allows me to determine who he is, who he’s going to grow up to be, and what he’s capable of.

With respect to what he’s capable of, manipulating situations is a big one. And while it might seem like this is a malicious act on his part, the truth is that he has good, kind intentions. Out of his love for me, he wants his father to continue to shower me with his love and compassion. He wants his father to remain dedicated to his mother. Ultimately, this allows our child to understand Carlisle better. It goes without saying that their bond has strengthened over the last few months. At this point, my husband can barely keep away from the both of us.

So, how did our little guy manipulate the situation this time? Well, it would seem that he compromised my immune system somehow, leaving me with one of the worst flu strains I’ve had in years. And the best part is that he’s the only one that can decide when it will end. Not Carlisle. Not me. Not medical science. Just him. And considering the fact that his father has been within close proximity around the clock, I wouldn’t count on any reversal anytime soon.

“That doesn’t mean you should be without medical assistance. Rosalie and Emmett, albeit resourceful, aren’t doctors,” Carlisle retorted, his hand moving towards my bump, waiting for his son to kick him hello.

Soon enough, it happened. We both grinned down at the beautiful creature just waiting to make his appearance. Only a few more weeks to go.

Looking down, I responded. “I know they’re not doctors, sweetheart. I just think that we shouldn’t take any chances where Bella’s concerned. She’s still human. And she has a family. What if that were him?”

“I understand what you mean. She will be our daughter-in-law sooner than later.”

“Much sooner than you think.”

Alice isn’t the only one that had visions in this coven. I do too. The only difference is that mine are pretty inconsistent. I’m always given myriad possibilities and unable to determine which is the correct one. Yet, we had all agreed that any vision would be taken seriously because it’s validity depends on the choices one decides to make. In this case, we don’t know if Bella’s decisions are going to force her into a potentially harmful confrontation with Jane in Volterra or not. Only time will tell.

But that was why Alice and I wanted Carlisle to be out there with Bella and Edward. Just in case.

That yearning doesn’t seem to be getting us anywhere though.

“Please, darling,” I said. “Do it for me. I’m telling you that I feel well enough to have Rosalie and Emmett watch over me. If I didn’t, I would’ve demanded that you stay.”

It was so obvious that he was torn. His gaze turned away from mine and down to our son once again, his brows pinching in both frustration and agony. “I know, darling, I know. It just doesn’t sit well with me. As a husband and a father, it’s my duty to be present and attentive to your needs as well as his. I feel like I’m doing you both a disservice by traveling to Italy when there’s been no indication that she’s been harmed.”

“If it’s any consolation, I still believe she’s at risk. I just have this gut feeling.”

Mulling that over for a few moments, my husband sighed in resignation. “Then it’s settled. I’ll go. Let me go speak to Rosalie and Emmett.”

At that response, I leaned forward from my spot in front of, let’s just say, a ton of support pillows, completely preventing Carlisle from moving away from me.

Cupping his cheek, I smiled at him. “You’re such a good man, Carlisle Cullen. I hope you know that.”

His hand reached up to his cheek to grasp mine, leaving all the unspoken words to be heard and appreciated with just that one touch.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Now, remember that her nightly dose of Amoxicillin must be given at eight o’clock if she wants to be eligible to take it early tomorrow morning. And as far as comfort levels go, she’ll want her pregnancy pillow that’s laying on our bed upstairs, the heating pad for her lower back–which is in my office–, and some tea as well. Earl Grey, to be specific, which can be found—”

“Carlisle, it’s okay, we’ve got it,” Rosalie said, sitting down next to me. “Eloise will be in excellent hands, so you don’t need to worry so much. We’ve read your notes three times over and will consult them if need be. Plus, she’ll have her phone on her, I’m sure, so you can contact her whenever you please.”

“Rose’s right, Carlisle,” Emmett interjected. “We promise to be extra vigilant and prudent. We understand how important they both are. We love them too. But it will all work itself out. It doesn’t look like she’s going anywhere anyhow.”

All her husband could do was nod, watching as I shrugged and blew my nose. The look of agony on his face was all I needed to know that this separation was going to destroy him. But it needed to be done, for the sake of our family and our sanity.

“Thank you. Thank you both.”

Dropping his carry-on, the only bag he was bringing, my husband came to kneel beside me on the couch. Kneading his fingers through my hair, he pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead, savoring the last few moments we would have together for a few days.

Him and me both.

“I’ll see you soon, okay? Call me if you need me.”

“Will do, sweetheart. Now, go be amazing. I’ll be here, keeping our little one safe,” I said, watching as our son wanted to get in on the action.

Kissing my forehead one last time and then my lips, he moved to place a long, loving kiss on my belly.

“I love you both. I’ll see you soon.” he said, all smiles.

#carlisle cullen #carlisle x reader #twilight #newmoon #eclipse #breaking dawn #jacob black #alice cullen #Bella Swan #edward cullen #emmett cullen #jasper hale #the volturi #volturi #twilight carlisle #vampires

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actualbird · 5 months

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I guess I'll call myself 🔥 anon??? Idk lol. I changed my writing style with that first ask, but whatever. This is important, so who cares.

Anyway, I get it. I come from a family of artists and academics and teachers. My childhood dreams were to be a painter, a marine biologist, or someone super smart with a well-paying job. After that, in high school, my dream was just ATAR. Get a good ATAR score. Be good at learning and be told, "Yeah, you could go to university."

It's a year or so after that goal was set. I'm moving down to general classes and doing things I love more. My business cert is no longer there just to say "I have a certificate", it's because the teacher is one of the nicest teachers I've ever met and I like the class. Take IT because it's easy. Do human biology because you think the immune system is fun. I'm younger than you, sure, but one of the best things I've learned is exactly what that old saying says.

"Jack of all trades, master of none

but better than a master of one."

I'm having the time of my life. Will I end up getting higher education? Probably. Because I want to. Is it okay if I drop a course halfway through and never pick it up again? Is it okay if I have to ask teachers to slow it down?

Totally.

You don't have to be good at school to be good. I'm awful at it, and gifted kid burnout destroyed my life for a while. But I have friends and family who love me, and slowly, I'm learning to love myself, too.

I wish you all the best.

hi again fire!anon i

fully teared up reading this JKHSVJFHDKSDFKJSD

you might be younger but my gosh youre a whole lot wiser than i was when i was at uni age.

youre right and i agree with everything you said. i guess im just still stuck in that weird portion you mentioned of set academic/career goal -> set academic/career goal -> set academic/career goal that now that im in a place where i can start wanting things that are a bit more outside of the usual goals i had before. it's scary as fuck!!! i wish somebody could just tell me what to do instead!!! but i absolutely believe in the essence of doing things because you love them

while im not in class anymore, im a notorious hobby hopper. i learned how to crochet for funsies and i dont anymore but i still loved doing it, i have on and off durations of being obsessed with origami, i keep wanting to learn basic html for website building but keep putting it off because im worried im not smart enough to be able to handle it but honestly, when i have the time and motivation, i should just do it.

im like you in the sense that gifted kid burnout also ruined my life a bit, i think it uh....still is up til now, probably, judging by how badly 90% of my life's decisions are still made on the basis of whether or not i can get A Good Grade At Task HVSLBDFJSDJFK. but eventually, i hope it lessens its hold on me. i think one of the hardest things about going from student to adult was accepting that i cant Get A Good Grade At Life. absolutely mindboggling to me. can someone else please tell me what to do and if im doing good at it? please? i dont think i ever stopped being a student vying for validation. or rather, i havent stopped yet

itd be nice to stop. and just do shit cuz i like it. the idea sounds heavenly to me like a clear day. maybe things will be okay ;-;

i wish you all the best too, fire!anon. thank you <3

#life would be so much simpler if somebody told me what to want and how to get an A+ at it #but i guess itd also be a lot more miserable too. i have to learn to want on my own some day #fire!anon #asks

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interact-if · 2 years

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First up for our Pride Month Event is Anna!

Anna, Author of Wayfarer

When your mercenary work backs you into a corner, you take the only option available and accept a contract: to travel to the city of Velantis and steal an ancient artifact said to be blessed by the gods. Simple, right?

But Velantis holds more than you bargained for. Gathering a ragtag party of malcontents and renegades from across the city, you must navigate enemy factions, meddling guilds, and escalating political tensions. Your choices will ultimately determine the city’s fate – and the fate of every person who lives there.

Wayfarer is a dark fantasy interactive fiction game. You play as a Wayfarer, a member of an order of warriors born with magical immunity in a world dominated by magic. It is currently in development. The full game will include three acts and a total of 14 chapters.

Read more about Wayfarer here. Play the Demo here. Anna's Patreon and Ko-fi.

[INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT!]

Q1 - Please, introduce yourself and tell us a bit about your project!

I’m a playwright! After several years working in the theatre industry, I wanted to branch out into video game scriptwriting. Wayfarer actually started as a portfolio piece and grew into what it is today.

Wayfarer is a dark fantasy game. You play as a Wayfarer, a mercenary from an order of warriors immune to magic. When your last job backs you into a corner, you take a contract to travel to the city of Velantis and steal an ancient relic… but of course, things do not turn out the way you expect.

Q2 - What or who are some of your biggest inspirations?

There’s quite a few! In terms of writing, I take a lot from the works of novelists like Brandon Sanderson, S.A. Chakraborty, and R.F. Kuang, as well as playwrights like Judith Thompson and Colleen Murphy. With game design and general worldbuilding, the Dragon Age series is Wayfarer’s main source of inspiration, alongside the Witcher 3, Fire Emblem, Final Fantasy, and D&D.

Q3- What excites you most about IF? What drew you to the medium?

Interactive fiction sits in a very special place because it’s text-based. I think sometimes we’re accustomed to thinking visual media as superior to text, but it’s not true. There’s power in prose, power in the reader’s imagination, that can push a game beyond the limitations of traditional video games.

Even just speaking narratively, you can do more with nonlinear storytelling in interactive fiction than you can elsewhere. I adore the concept of choice-based gameplay. I love pushing my game in different directions and crafting concrete consequences for the player’s actions. This ultimately results in a significant amount of branching. Episode 1’s boss fight has multiple versions depending on how you handle the events leading up to it, which is not something that would be possible in traditional gaming.

I also love interactive fiction because it has become an intrinsically queer space. Our stories and experiences are so often on the fringes, and interactive fiction is a gaming medium that pushes against the boundaries of the traditional. There is so much being done here to explore gender, sexuality, and personal identity. It’s nice to be able to play queer relationships without feeling like you’re the outlier or that the content was thrown in last minute.

Q4 - Are your characters influenced by your identity? How?

Absolutely. Wayfarer’s world is inherently queer. It is littered with queer characters (major companion characters and NPCs included), and gender expression is fluid and malleable. When I did the initial worldbuilding, I really wanted to separate it from societal constructs from the “real world.” It’s a fantasy, after all, and part of that fantasy is living in a world where being queer is about as remarkable as what you had for breakfast. Sometimes it’s nice to have a narrative where folks can live their lives without facing sexism, homophobia, and transphobia.

On a more personal level, Wayfarer’s romance system is shaped by my experiences as an asexual person. Romantic and sexual attraction are two very different things, and this is typically not addressed in most fiction. I wanted a system that acknowledged those differences, while also allowing the player to change things up when they felt it was in character. So, while there’s no “Select A to be Ace” option in the character creator, the player will always have agency when it comes to how they want their character to engage with either type of attraction—whether it be romantic, sexual, both, or none.

Q5 - What are you most excited about sharing related to your project?

I’m excited to share the kind of game that I love to play! Wayfarer has a vibrant world, rich lore, a huge cast of diverse and dynamic characters, and—most importantly—choices that really do matter. Every playthrough is different, and there’s always some new piece of the puzzle to uncover, even after multiple replays.

Q6 - What would you like to see more of in LGBT+ fiction/IF community?

More of everything! Human experience is so varied, so nuanced, it’s impossible to capture all of it in a single work. I think it would be a detriment to a story as a whole to squeeze every possible experience into one place (if you spread yourself too thin, you end up with shallow writing and characters). I’d love to see more LGBTQ+ fiction and games, full stop. That’s how we will get those varied, wide-ranging perspectives and experiences, while also having fulfilling stories and characters.

I’d also love to see more authors delve into the complexities of intimate relationships. I rarely see topics like romantic and sexual compatibility addressed. This is often a huge part of asexual relationships (if what you want doesn’t match what your partner wants, you need to address it), but I think it applies to so many other folks as well.

Q7- Lastly, what advice would you give to your creators and readers?

For developers, make the game you want to play. Don’t worry too much about following trends or popular staples of the medium. If you don’t vibe with a certain mechanic or idea, don’t feel pressured to add it to your game. Conversely, if you really love a popular mechanic or idea and are worried about doing the same thing everyone else is doing, go for it anyway! If you’re passionate about what you’re creating, you’ll find your niche. Interactive fiction games are at their best when the creator is having fun and making the material they themselves enjoy.

For players, indulge in the roleplaying! Every game has something different to offer. If you try to pre-determine your playthrough before you even start, you might end up with a good, but somewhat hollow experience. The fun of playing interactive fiction games, for me, is sticking to my character’s instincts and seeing where those choices take me—even if it doesn’t turn out the way I wanted it to.

#if: events #Pride 2022 #Pride Month #Wayfarer

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