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latibvles · 18 days

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27. boxed for harriet morgan

##27 — BOXES

harriet morgan u are a national treasure and the whole of the bomb group adores you (literal). that's all the notes I have for this one. send me a prompt for the bomber girls!

—

Airmen were superstitious by nature — Harrie was no exception to that.

She knew she had a package or two waiting for her this morning. Her ma made it a habit to send her a plethora of things: books she left at home, hair ribbons, and some type of snack, too. Enough to share with the rest of her crew and still have leftovers. And her ma always wrote too — testifying that she prayed over them too, sending her love and blessings with all the pastries and articles of clothing.

Harrie made a point to never open these packages before they took off. She’d always pick them up from the post, set them gingerly atop her cot like she was setting the table back at home, but she’d never opened them.

She figured if they had something to look forward to on the way back, then it’d help them beat the odds. That, and gorging themselves on her mom’s homemade cookies and blessings seemed like a hard earned reward. Harrie made a point to send back the tins they were sent in, often with some type of trinket for her little cousins to fawn over.

Word traveled fast in Thorpe Abbotts — not so much about the blessings, but definitely about the treats.

“Anybody seen Juney?” Harrie asks, turning her head this way and that in the armchair. “Don’t want her missin’ out this time.” Fern waves her hand dismissively from her spot perched on the arm of the chair.

“We’ll just save her one. She’s got a grandpa’s bedtime anyway.” Fern explains, which makes Harrie laugh quietly under her breath. Of course, this corner of the front room had garnered its fair share of curious eyes. Fern perched on the arm chair, Carrie by the fireplace and Inez returning from the snack bar with napkins — likely to run Viv and Willie their hard-earned luxury rations, straight from the kitchen of Mary Morgan herself.

There were also a couple editions, men trying to stake their claim on the inevitable leftovers: Harper, from DeMarco’s crew, sat right across from her, burning a hole through the packaging. And although Blakely was keeping his distance, Harrie didn’t miss the way the pilot’s curious eyes would drift to the boxes balanced delicately in her lap every now and again — she makes a mental note to run one to him when she’s handing them all out.

There’s a whistle behind her, the soft thump of hands smacking the hard leather of the chair. She turns around to grin up at Douglass, who’s grinning right back at her, all teeth and mischief as he eyes the packages.

“Another package from my best girl?” he drawls, which has Harrie groaning and batting at his hands as he reaches over to pick at the packaging.

“Quit talkin’ like that ‘bout my ma, Dougie,” Harrie huffs, knowing he doesn’t mean it. “And lay off, we got manners ‘round here. Gotta read the card first,” Douglass’ hands retreat, but he sits on the opposing armrest. Part of Harrie feels like she’s ten years old again, and all her cousins and her brother, too, are watching her open up all the presents or blowing out candles. She takes the envelope too and tears into it, clearing her throat. “Dear Harriet…”

She goes through the typical stuff — local baseball scores, church gossip, how the animals were fairing. She skips over the more personal stuff for the sake of not dampening the room with her at-home worries. That was to be further looked into in the barely-there privacy of her cot, not read aloud among her friends.

“Send your friends ma’ love. Prayin’ over ya always, I hope these treats do somethin’ to make ya’ll smile a bit. Love momma. P.S, Pa sends a welcome gift for your new Commandin’ Officer,” Harrie wraps up, smiling by the end of it — an ear-splitting thing that makes her face hurt as she pockets the letter and then tears into the first package, undoing its wrapping.

The box is a well-polished wood thing with a gold latch, and Harrie recognizes it immediately as her pa’s cigar box. She can’t help the small gasp as she pops it open. Covering the cigars, however, was a small stack of photographs that she’s quick to snatch up before shutting it quickly, shuffling through photographs. She’s never been more happy she committed to not opening up her packages until after today’s flight.

“Look Carrie, s’that calf I was tellin’ you about. Nervous Nellie,” Harrie beams, extending her arm to give her friend the picture. “N’ these are the baby chicks. Well… I guess they ain’t babies no more, but they was when I hatched ‘em.” She points to the one still tucked under their hen’s wing. “I named that one after you Dougie, that one’s Hammy n’ that one’s Juney. Oh! There’s Harper.” Harrie points out each chick named after a bombardier in the company, and although his eyes roll at first, he starts chuckling as she goes down the line.

There’s a few others in there, some with her cousins and all the animals Harrie doted on at home. She pockets the pictures too, closes the cigar case and sets it before her on the coffee table. Then, she gives her small audience a sweeping look.

“Now don’t ya’ll go grabbin’ at me. ‘Specially not you two,” she points to Harper, who makes a noise of half-hearted offense, and then Dougie. “Rules are rules. Ladies first, then you can go callin’ dibs and what-not.”

With that in mind, she opens up the second, smaller box, and lets out a disbelieving laugh.

“Thank you, Mrs. Morgan,” Fern declares as Inez passes Harrie a napkin. She takes out one of the apple turnovers delicately packed into the metal tin and immediately passes it to Fern, who passes it to Carrie, until they’ve gone around their immediate circle. Then Inez plucks two to run to Viv and Willie, and Fern takes another for June. Harrie rises with the tin, laughing at the prolonged stare that the guys are giving her.

“Alright, alright, one each — Blakely!” The pilot, who was now making conversation with Kidd, snaps to look at her. “Quit actin’ polite and come over here ‘fore the rest are gone.”

As Blakely makes his way over, Harrie does the quick mental math to save enough for Jo, and one for Colonel Harding, to go with the box of cigars. And she silently prays that the blessings her mom sent with the turnovers will last to the next flight, the next package. But when they approach — she doesn’t admit to that. She just smiles and continues to hand out the extras, more than happy to share all of her gifts.

#ch: harriet morgan #*poet writes #masters of the air oc #mota oc #hbo war oc #mota fic #masters of the air fic #yeah she named her baby chicks after the bombardiers #why do you ask?

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vilf-archive-58439854930953 · 2 months

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I’m not the sort of person to use multiple names unless Things are occuring in my head but I have plenty of nicknames. Juney Junes Junebug Junice Junogie Juju Chewno Juniebug Junobear. Etc. ♪

#⚰️

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cakeinthevoid · 4 months

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Only A Dream

scurries out of the haunted walls of academia and real life responsibilities—coughs this out and scurries away again but my leg is broken

heyyy everyone!! Sooo….. I had this dream. And somehow, I was able to write this neat thing! It’s nearly 3.5k words long… And I did too much research…. I’ll just… leave it there… wait last thing: I’d die for John and Juno. Ok that’s all.

Contains: pirate whump! Hurt comfort! Snarky MC! Angry MC! Female MC! Forced to join! Vague flashbacks to physical and emotional trauma! Gun fighting in the background! Manual labour! (Feel free to send in an ask if you want more deets before opening)

The crew was packing, moving ships to make room for supplies. First mate Juno made sure everyone was doing something useful.

Which is why Delia could not fathom why she was made responsible for labelling crates.

Labelling. Crates.

She still couldn’t believe it, even as she was writing gunpowder on the parchment and sticking it onto the barrel with paste.

She bet half the crew couldn’t even read!

And yet Juno led her to the abandoned smithy where they were holding supplies, handed her a roll of parchment and ink and told her to mark every container. They only said not to write ‘too fancy-like’ and left to go do whatever they needed to do so the crew could leave by noon.

Whatever they were doing, it was certainly leagues more exciting than labelling crates.

Delia moved onto another crate anyway. Before she could peak inside, a clatter at the entrance sounded—someone tripping over the debris lying around and cursing.

Delia wasn’t startled; it was only John and it was already his third or fourth time tripping over that junk.

John made his way over, a crate of something in his arms; only his forehead and cloud of black of hair peaked over its height. He tried setting the box down gently, but it still clanged as it hit the floor.

He wiped his brow and the colourful beaded bracelets he wore jangled against his dark skin. “No ‘hello, John’? Are you okay, John? Thank you John for bringing me another crate?”

Delia rolled her eyes. “Do you expect to hear it every time?”

John made a show of thinking, bringing his hand to his chin and furrowing his brow. “Hmm. Yes, actually,” he said at last. “Some more appreciation around here would be welcome.”

“Tell me about it,” she muttered. “So what’s all this then?”

“Fragile merchandise,” he said, wagging his finger. “Juney wants it labelled as kitchenware.”

“Why doesn’t Juno come in and label it themself then?”

He clicked his tongue. “Little bird, that’s your job.”

“It’s a dumb fucking job.”

John made a noise of disapproval. “A year with pirates has fouled your mouth so? For shame, Cordelia.”

She pressed her lips in a tight line and glared. He’s lucky he didn’t call her your highness or Princess.

John laughed. “Easy now, I come bearing good news! This here is the last crate. Last one I’m bringing, anyway.”

“There’s more?” There had better not be.

“Eh,” he shrugged, “Not sure. Probably not. Most supplies went to the Mayflower.”

The Mayflower. Captain Mor’s latest pirated ship. Erik would be manning it, and Delia would be on his half of the crew—the rest sticking with Captain Mor on whatever new ship was added to their fleet.

It was also the one on which Delia truly became part of the crew. At least she thought so. Hard to tell when she was suddenly demoted to labellor.

“Who labelled the other crates then?” Maybe she wasn’t truly alone in her suffering.

John cringed at that. “Ehm. They weren’t.”

Delia stared at him in silence for a beat.

She tried to keep a level voice: “What do you mean they weren’t.”

“Ah well, they might’ve! They likely were! I just didn’t see. I’m old, you know.”

“You’re like, twenty-five,” she said dryly.

“Older than you,” he amended. Only by three years, she thought, annoyed.

“So basically Juno gave me a fools errand.” She had already suspected, but for it to be true… it hurt a bit, to her surprise.

“No, no of course not!” He reassured. “They do everything for a reason, surely you know that.”

Delia sat and slumped on a crate labeled blankets. “Mhmm.”

“Hey,” he crouched to be at her eye level. He opened his mouth to say something, but an explosion sounded outside.

The both of them startled upright simultaneously, but John got on the move quick.

“Stay here,” he said seriously, halfway to the entrance. “Protect the kitchenware!” And he was gone.

Delia pulled out her pistol, the weight of it comfortable in her hand.

Then she waited.

The ruckus grew outside, and Delia felt stupid hiding away in an old smithy when she was just as good a shot as needed.

She found a small part of her wishing for some of the action to make its way to her. She imagined some hooligan storming in, how she would raise her pistol and—

Bullets came flying in through the walls. Delia dropped for cover behind the blanket crate, pistol in hand and pointed in the direction of gunshots and yelling.

The noise began dying down long minutes later, cries for doctors ringing clearly.

Delia was trying to focus on the sound of footsteps running down the street, getting closer.

She caught glimpses of familiar figures through the new bullet holes in the wall and got up from behind the crate.

Juno stormed in first, their normally composed demeanour full of anger.

“Wesley, Novin, Clive, Kingston, start loading the crates. Aiken, Grace, cover them. Now!” They barked.

Everyone called upon scrambled out, grabbing the nearest crates, whether they were labeled or not.

“Delia!”

“Yessir,” she responded immediately.

“You’re coming with us. The Mayflower had to go off—damn bastards bombing the damned port—“ they cursed almost to themself.

Delia didn’t understand why this warranted a one on one. “Did… was someone-“

Juno shook their head and twirled their gun around their finger, heading back out. “Thank God no—not yet anyway. No, go load the crates, but I don’t want you boarding that ship until I get there, understand?”

“What? Why?”

But they were already gone, rushing back from where they came from.

Delia had half a mind to chase them down, but pulled herself together, going for a crate. Novin was already back to pick up another one, so surely this new boat wasn’t far.

Best get back to work then, she thought and followed Novin out, crate in hand.

——

With the initial bloody chaos from the explosion nearly settled, it wasn’t difficult to make it to the new ship and back.

At least, it wasn’t difficult for the first few rounds.

By her… fifth box maybe? The exertion was getting to her. The lack of the usual crew banter as they prepare for departure made her that much more cognizant of soreness in her arms and the painful way the crate would jut into her stomach.

Juno was running a tight operation. And Juno being stressed was as good an indicator as any that the rest of the crew should be stressed too.

Delia only caught a glimpse of them as she was dropping off yet another crate at the mouth of the dock where Aiken sat twirling his gun. Juno was carrying up a body into the ship.

When Juno caught her staring, he yelled across the docks for her to get back to work. She quickly jumped into action, running back to the smithy to replace the cold dread in her chest with the heat of her lungs burning.

“Where’s the fire?”

Delia whipped around as she neared the smithy. Grace.

“Grace! Juno—body, on the ship,” she panted, out of breath.

Grace looked away. “Right…”

“What?”

She hesitated. “Delia…” she started slowly.

The ice was back in her heart. Time froze.

…and was promptly shattered by Novin, bursting out of the smithy and snapping.

“These crates aren’t lifting themselves! Can we hurry up already? I swear…” He shoved between Grace and Delia, despite the room around them, and headed to the docks.

“I’ll let you get back to it,” Grace said quickly. She disappeared to wherever she found the best view to keep watch before Delia could form words.

Damned Novin. Rascal of a little brother behaviour.

——-

Several crates later, she was dying of thirst.

Not dying, no most definitely not; she had endured far worse. But she was definitely thirsty enough to try her luck with Aiken.

Unsurprisingly, he told her to piss off.

Another few crates later, her vision was growing a little spotty. The sun was rising and she was already sweaty enough from the labour.

After dropping the next box in front of Aiken, she stumbled forward, off kilter. She caught herself on the crate and blinked the spots from her eyes, taking a few breaths.

She looked up to see Aiken staring at her, brown eyes wide under the shade of his hat.

“Can I please have that damned water now?” She said through gritted teeth.

He gave her his canteen.

She took greedy gulps, but left enough in the canteen. You never left someone without water. She handed it back to him without saying anything and turned to go get another blasted crate.

Another several crates later and she thought her arms would fall off. Her neck was sore and her legs were cramping. She pushed herself off the crate she was leaning against only to bump right into Kingston, who was going for a crate to take up to the ship.

“Don’t get up on my account,” his deep voice rumbling with humour. “Wesley, Clive, Novin and Grace are getting the last of the crates. You’re all good.”

Delia slumped back down, very relieved. “Thanks,” she mumbled, closing her eyes.

The heat was unbearable. She had half a mind to jump into the ocean right now.

She looked behind her where Kingston was already at the top of the ship ramp—carrying two boxes no less. It helped that he was the size of a house.

She rested for a while, the sound of Aiken messing around with his gun keeping her company.

It wasn’t long until she was getting annoyed again. She had just realized no one told her to start carrying crate up to the ship deck.

Either she really looked that pathetic right now or Juno had them under the same orders.

She decided to try her luck. Despite her muscles protesting, she picked up a barrel.

“What are you doing?” Aiken snapped, not unkindly.

“Might as well help Kingston with the crates.”

“In your sorry state, you’re gonna fall right off the ramp.”

She scoffed. “Sure. Try and stop me then,” she challenged, walking away with the barrel in arm.

She heard a sign and the patter of shoes hopping off a seat and making their way to her.

“Give me that,” he said, reaching for the barrel.

She angled it away. “No. Why?”

“I’ll take it up if you want someone to help Kingston so bad. You keep watch.”

“What if I wanted to take it up? And you’re a better shot than me.” It pained her to admit, but she needed a point.

“No one’s messing around on this side of the dock anyway, you’ll be fine. Sit back down, girl.”

She dropped the barrel down angrily.

“What’s going on?” She demanded. “Why isn’t anyone telling me anything? Why can’t I go on the damned ship? Are you planning on leaving me here or what?” She fumed, fists clenched and jaw tight. She’s had enough beating around the bush.

Aiken said nothing for a moment. Then he admitted, “First Mate Juno told me to keep you down here. Didn’t tell me why either,” he shrugged. “But I doubt it’s to leave you behind.”

“You only doubt it?”

Aiken shrugged. Mouth stretching in an expression that said I don’t know what you want from me, man.

“Right well, I don’t care.” She moved for the barrel again, but he intercepted.

“I mean it, Delia. I’m not losing Juno’s favour over you.”

They stared off for a few beats, then Delia threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. “Fine! Take it up yourself, then! I’ll be relaxing like a lazy cat until His Majesty Juno deigns to explain what’s going on!” She pivoted on her heel and stormed away.

Once she was settled back on the crates, she risked a look behind her. It seemed Aiken was actually taking the barrel up.

She turned forward at the sound of Grace’s laughter. Normally, Delia revelled in the sound of her laugh, but she was bitter and annoyed and now jealous that someone made her laugh like that.

She waited for the three of them, arms crossed.

“Hey, give us a hand, why don’t you!” Novin called out. Clive shook his head at his antics, white hair stark and gleaming in the sun.

Delia got up anyway. She took the barrel from Novin’s hands, much to his visible surprise, and stacked it on top of another barrel, all without saying anything.

“Sheesh,” he drawled, sticking his hands into his pants pockets.

She ignored him. “Where’s Juno?”

“Likely the Captains Cabin. I’ll fetch him,” Clive responded quickly. Delia wished he spoke more; she quite liked his strong English accent. Reminded her of… good times.

She pushed the thought away before it could fully form.

When it was just Grace and Novin left, Delia rolled her eyes. “What, did Juno forbid you from the ship as well?”

Novin muttered something foul and got to work. Grace frowned and let Novin get ahead.

Out of his earshot, she spoke softly to Delia.

“Juno is trying to help you. And I’m here for you, too. I didn’t agree with his plan, just so you know. So… if you want to go on the ship with me before he gets back…”

A Delia not already pissed and annoyed would have said yes. But this Delia was bitter—irritated that it wasn’t only Juno, but her best friend discussing her behind her back.

Against her better judgment, she said coldly, “I think you have a lot of crates to carry until then,” and turned away to avoid whatever look would appear on her face.

She heard Grace get back to work, but only risked a look back after she counted to 100. Aiken was coming back.

But she had a plan for that. As he approached, Delia occupied herself by lifting crates at random. Naturally, Aiken couldn’t resist inquiry, asking what she was doing.

“Just lifting the boxes. Trying to guess how much they weigh. Not much else to do here,” she muttered under her breath, but just loud enough to be heard.

Aiken just hummed.

Delia lifted another box, one she carried here herself.

“How much do you think this one weighs? We can say the same number on three. If we say the same, we win.”

“My God, you really are bored.”

“Just lift the box,” she said. “Careful though, might be weapons in here.” She handed it to him.

As soon as Aiken grasped the box, Delia pivoted and gunned it to the ship.

She heard Aiken cry out, but he needed to set the box down carefully. It was just the head start she needed for her sore body after carrying dumb crates all day. This time, her body burned with adrenaline.

She skidded on the dock, the ship a blur in her sights, and used her momentum to launch herself up the ship ramp. She caught a glimpse of Aiken not even halfway down the dock. She couldn’t help but laugh.

Finally, a win.

Cackling to herself, she sped up the ramp, landing on the ships deck with a jump.

“Ha ha ha!” She grinned wildly and walked with purpose to the centre of the main deck. To her right, she saw Grace and Clive looking down with alarm from the quarterdeck.

“I mean, seriously, with you guys acting like the guard—“ she snorted, giggling. She let her gaze wander to her left, to the main mast. “I don’t know, maybe there really should have been something… something…”

Her eyes stuck on the main mast. They weren’t parsing the information they saw very well—why did the mast look odd, she knew that mast, she had felt it because was it not—was it not the very same mast—

Running. Cold water. Screaming.

The mast filled her vision.

Pain, pain, PAIN and fear, so much fear. He was gone, she was alone. He was there, there were people surrounding her.

She put a hand on the mast. It had a different texture, like it was sanded or glazed, she couldn’t tell. She could only feel—

Thick ropes. Burlap. Thrown to the ground. Refusing to cry. Crying anyway. Hard wood of the mast. Tied to the mast, tied to the mast, tied and gagged and stripped—

There were hands on her shoulders, pulling her away. She pulled out from under them, gaze skittering around. Suddenly, everything was painfully familiar. The grain of the deck, the details in the guardrail. Every swirl and pattern that she had counted. She was so bored, she needed the distraction—anything. She begged, she remembered begging, please stop, stop stop stop, please I beg of you stop please—

“Stop, stop I—“ she came to herself in an instant, like ice water flooding her mind. “Get away from me! This was where—this is where—“ she stumbled backward as she turned, gesturing. She felt nauseous.

“Delia—“ Grace tried and good Lord it struck her how she was Cordelia once.

“This is why you kept me from boarding?” She looked around wildly, too quickly to properly identify faces but she thought she saw Clive on the stairs coming towards her—but then it was Juno’s voice.

“Calm yourself! You’re going to fall off the damn ship!”

“You… sick bastard! Why didn’t you tell me! You wanted this—it was always mind games with you—getting me to break and—“

“Delia!” Grace cried, affronted.

Grace went on to say something but there was a rushing in her ears and dread was growing in her chest and she felt trapped and contained but she was out on the open air and all she could think to do was dodge Juno and run to the forecastle of the ship, lunging up the stairs. Too many people on main deck—someone was blocking the ramp—

Juno let her, the sane part of her mind realized. Juno needed no effort at all to stop her advance, and yet they let her past.

She was shaking now, shaking with fury and a hidden grief she refused to recognize because it would break her. To realize, to accept, that she had joined the very people who had kidnapped her—literally pirated her.

Cordelia crumpled to the ground. She needed to get her breathing under control. She would not become undone at the mere sight of some—some stupid mast when she had survived the damn thing and more!

“Breathe with me. Come on, hold it in longer. In…”

Grace… Cordelia choked on her breath, shaking her head.

“You can do it. Can I help you? Please, Cordelia…”

In the corner of her vision, she saw Grace gently place her hand out on the ground, right near her own tightly fisted hand.

With great effort she moved to hold it, gripping it tight.

Grace took it as the permission it was to help her fully. Just like old times.

“Come on,” she said softly, moving around Cordelia. She put a hand around her back to help shift her upright, leaning against the balusters of the guard rail.

Cordelia brought up her knees, wrapping her free arm around them. Her other hand was still wound around Grace’s.

“I got you.”

Cordelia shuddered.

“I got you,” she whispered.

Delia leaned into her body, hiding her face in her shoulder. She felt like memories would pull her back any second—

“What’s wrong with her?”

She stiffened, but didn’t pull away. But if Novin dared to come any closer, she couldn’t be held responsible for decking the new kid.

“Oh, nothing to worry about!” Captain Mor’s booming voice travelled across the ship, accompanied by rumbling laughter. “Our Delia here has just gotten a reminder of the last time she walked this ship!”

Delia gripped Grace’s hand tighter. She glided her free hand up and down Delia’s arm.

“Some bad memories I gather!” Captain Mor said in response to something. “Again, worry not, lad! Things are much better now—for starters, we have food!” She laughed. “Isn’t that right, Delia?” She called up.

Her heart was still hammering in her chest, but she managed a small, unconvincing affirmative.

“She says yes, of course, Captain,” Grace said much louder than Delia could’ve at the moment.

Thankfully, the Captain moved on. Just as well.

Delia had no more strength to muster. Exhausted physically and emotionally, she let herself melt into Grace’s arms. She tried not to think too much, hoping that her body and mind would shut off without fuss.

She hadn’t wished for that in a while.

But maybe she could just pretend, that if not the past several long, long years of her life, if not this whole adventure, that this one day could be a dream. Only a dream.

If only she was that lucky.

—*—

#my cake #pirate whump #one shot #manual labour #original characters #OS Cordelia #OS Delia #OS Grace #OS Juno #OS John #only a dream #female whumpee #hurt comfort #let me know what else I should tag :P #hope y’all enjoyed!!! In the process of writing I actually have soooo much looooore #feel free to send in asks if you’re curious #I prolly won’t be writing for this ever again otherwise :P

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imorphemi · 11 months

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NPC Details in TOTK that I think are interesting/funny

Basically all of these are off the top of my head based on my BOTW knowledge and what I came across while I was playing TOTK!

None of these are main story spoilers, but are obviously spoilers to the game nonetheless!

In BOTW there's this sidequest in Rito Village involving this guy Jogo and his wife Juney on their honeymoon, and they're kind of on the rocks because of Juney. In TOTK, I'm pretty sure they've split up! Juney is one of the sand seal plushie deliverers and Jogo is in a Hebra cabin with another girl, not mentioning Juney at all. By far the funniest thing I've realized through my playthrough

Tasho and Oaki are the two koroks in BOTW that give you the shrine quest where you need to sneak around behind Oaki to get to the shrine, because Tasho is worried about him. In TOTK, Tasho worries about where Oaki has disappeared to, and wonders if he's in the Deku Tree's mouth. They are brothers <3

In BOTW, Manny of Hateno Village has a crush on Prima and there's a sidequest about it. In TOTK, he now has a crush on Ivee because he has not got the girl and Prima is now married.

On the other hand, in BOTW there's a sidequest to get Wabbin and Perda together at the Lovers Pond. In TOTK he has a daughter with her but is thrown in the Gerudo jail for trespassing I think. At least he still sees his daughter.

Zelda deems Symin capable of handling kids because of his experience with Purah. Hilarious

Sesami, Flaxel, Oliff, Canolo and Palme have all truly split up after their quest in BOTW. In TOTK, Sesami is chillin on Eventide Island, Flaxel is a Monster Hunter leader, and Oliff is guarding the entrance of Hyrule Castle. I don't know where Canolo and Palme are haha

Jules, once a tourist to Gerudo Town in BOTW, now works there as an assistant at Hotel Oasis

Before the events of BOTW, Cado and Rola have split up because Cado liked his cuccos so much. This is not resolved in BOTW and you only get this by reading the Journal of Various Worries. In TOTK, after his trip with Impa, he stands outside the arrow shop contemplating how to apologize to her. It's actually kinda sweet I hope they can work things out

#rambles #totk #botw #i love npc interactions so much #actually the reason why i sided with reede in the hateno elections #was because in botw i talked to him once and hes actually just so nice #so i like him a lot #so yeah :D #i might add to this as i keep playing

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meademalove · 2 months

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Viv's playlist are part open part private i think,

Beth only has shared lists but both girls have an amazing song taste, on Beth's profile you do notice the time things started with Viv and after with Juney.

Girly went for the deeper more sentimental songs in one of her playlists

How do we know Beth doesn't have private playlists along with her public ones?

#meademalove #ask meademalove

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sharkwing · 6 months

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Nine people I’d like to get to know better

Tagged by @l-e-g-i-o-n-losh. Thanks for the tag!!

Last Song: Three Horn Circus - Yoko and the Gold Bazookas. I count Splatoon ost tracks bc they’re a huge chunk of the game’s appeal for me.

Favorite Color: Bright blue

Last movie/TV show: Ultimate Spider-Man (2012) because I love to suffer, I guess (ie watch for fleeting Doc Ock/classic villain appearances even though this show is turning out to be my personal nightmare version of Spider-Man)

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: I have to pick one?! Sweet, I guess. That answer’s gonna change in an hour though.

Relationship Status: In an unhealthy relationship with my career 🥲

Last thing I googled: …”neopets fairy capturing lupe.” I needed a nickname for a Midnight Lycanroc.

Current Obsession: Beetlejuice. The man and the franchise. I’m having a long Halloween this year.

Tag nine people: @aliengummy @juney-blues @doorstoplord @freshhorchata @haplessentity @stereocenter @desempleadas @locketship @raincandy-u

#first time i’ve remembered to respond to a tag game in FOREVER #don’t feel pressured to do this if you don’t want #if someone gives me a game with a set of rules i simply must play by them #like some kind of internet elf #shark.txt #tag game

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thegildedghost · 2 years

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//aaand ok to round out the pointless ooc posting for the night <3 have some void-walker picrews below the cut, along with each one’s date of creation, name, and pronouns (b/c all void-walkers are Gender)

Juno London - 1899 - they/he/it

Asher King - 1715 - she/they/it

Apollo Presley - 1984 - he/it

Vulture [no surname] - 2012 - they/he

Aeneas / Estelle Rose - 14 AD - she/her

#ooc #juney things #//i should make tags for the others. ehhh we'll see tho #//there are more void-walkers out there but these are the ones that matter for juno #picrew #//alright g'night y'all #//i love these bitches #//even estelle <3 manipulative little bitch she is <3

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poptimus-prime · 1 year

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Some de-stress writing feat. Butterfly AU shenanigans.

TFW you really want your mom after the horrors of Robot Fight Club, but you can’t talk about Robot Fight Club.

The dinner table was eerily quiet.

Admittedly, quiet was expected. Jack rarely willingly talked about his day, and whether Stormy talked at all varied from day to day.

Still, June noticed the way that the boy slumped in his chair, and the other kept pushing the same piece of cabbage around their plate. Certainly not normal behavior for either of them. She looked to Liv, who had a plainly concerned look on her face as she watched their children.

“...So. How were everyone’s days?” June finally broke the silence, only to be met with another stint of quiet. Liv volunteered to go first after a minute.

“Mine was wonderful, Juney.” Liv smiled. “I love the days where I can just stay home and do the little office things, so I can cook for my family instead of someone else’s for a change.”

“I’m glad, Dear. How about you, kids?” June could hear Stormy set their fork down and sigh. They turned and looked at Jack, who stared back into their soul. He would not be going first today; nothing Stormy could say would change that.

“It was fine. Work was boring.” Stormy mumbled, barely loud enough for the others to hear. “Nothing unusual happened today.”

“So typical coffee shop nonsense?” Liv asked them for clarity. They just nodded and shoved a mouthful of mashed potato in. A relatively polite way to wordlessly say get off my back.

“Did the excitement of getting your bike ruin your appetite or something, Jack-Rabbit?” She moved on to the other child, who sat up and picked up his fork. June had told her about Jack’s new motorcycle–cough, Arcee. She never saw it in the garage, even if Jack was home. She considered it odd, but then she remembered that the bike needed a lot of work.

But where did Jack get that kind of money?

“I’m not six anymore, Liv…but. I guess, yeah.” Jack flushed at the nickname. He didn’t hate it so much that he never wanted to be called it again, but again. He wasn’t six anymore.

“Oh, I know…but you’ll always be our baby…” Liv hummed. Jack seemed like he had a deer-in-the-headlights moment before he quietly excused himself, placing his plate in the microwave for later. Stormy followed a minute later, putting their own plate in the still-warm oven.

“...What just happened?” June asked Liv in confusion.

“Your guess is as good as mine!” Liv replied, brow furrowed in concern. “I know those kids don’t eat a lot, but they usually at least clean their plates…”

“It could just be young-person moodiness, I guess…”

“Yeah, that tracks…” Liv stood with her own plate. “I’ll give Stormy like. A half an hour and go talk to them, I guess.”

“I think I’ll give Jack 45. I also need a break from his moodiness, honestly.” June pushed her placemat forward so she could rest her head on the table. “I love him, but he’s been getting testy.”

“I think that’s a good sign. Remember how clingy he used to be as a little kid?” Liv hummed as she scraped the bits off her plate and rinsed it off. She set it in the sink and turned to June. “He could barely do anything without one of us.”

“It scares me a little.” June admitted, playing with the edge of the table. “They grew up too fast. Stormy’s ready to bolt from the nest any minute, and Jack’s not too far behind. What if we won’t be able to protect them out there?”

Liv bit her lip a little. She knew exactly the feeling that June was having–she felt it constantly. However, she was trying to just not think about that right now.

“I know. I understand.” She balled a dish towel in her hands. “But, it’d be bad for them as people if we kept holding on when they’re ready to go out on their own.”

“I know that too. But god, I really want to keep holding on.”

The sound of shuffling feet in the hall carpet interrupted the conversation. Fearing eavesdropping, they stopped speaking and turned to look at the source.

Jack and Stormy were both standing in the entrance of the hallway. Jack had the cuffs of his sleeves balled in his fists at his sides, and Stormy had one of their own sleeves in their mouth. They both were tearing up, and their mothers’ hearts seemed to sink into their stomachs.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Liv approached Stormy quickly, holding their face. “Why are you crying, Chickadee?” They shook their head a bit and then threw themselves into her arms to cry more.

“Jack…?” June approached him more slowly, knowing the boy’s recent history of bolting when she went too fast and touchy with her affection. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“...We both just had really bad days, actually.” He admitted, thinking about the scraplets that they both had dealt with earlier that afternoon. “Don’t really want to talk about it though…”

“Do you want a hug?”

“Yes please.” He said as he opened his arms. June obliged, rubbing his back. He eventually hugged her in turn, burying his face into her shoulder and sniffling loudly.

#the butterfly au #the oc tag #olivia #stormy

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planet4546b · 8 months

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you have no idea just HOW MUCH juney my little juney my love my darling means to me even though ive only had her for a year and a half like i dont even care what the hell else happens in tfs i just need that thing to come out already so i can know how junes story ends this is all about her if she was real i would cradle her in my arms like my roommates cat lets me hold him like a little baby. the lightening 1 arcade fire just started playign and my head hurts so bad.

#pers #sorry im really making myself upset about her here. the lightening 2 is way earlier in her playlist #its like DIRECTLY after red war and so the lightening 1 being near the end sucks badly

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juney-blues · 4 months

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Do you have a cohost or anything? Asking all of the people I like to see around since... you know...

aw, ty!

i'm Juney-Blues there too lol

i don't use it for much other than comic updates, and i'm PROBABLY not gonna jump ship any time soon unless things really go tits up, but it's nice to have just in case i guess lolol

#asks #calamitascalliope

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modgirlyreposts-revamped · 2 years

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Boom, Soapies!AU Afton family

Now if you’re sitting here thinking hey, that’s one too many Afton kids, good job, you’re good at math. That fourth one, the brown girl with black hair, is Cassidy Santiago-Afton, twin sister of the crying child, Juney.

Ok, Juney isn’t actually his name. It’s William Afton Jr., but he prefers Juney (short for Junior) or CC.

If you’re also thinking hey, none of these kids look alike, again, good job, you’re very observant. None of the kids are from the same mother, save for the twins, who just look unalike because genetics are just a massive web of middle fingers. Each of the kids’ moms are latina- Michael’s is Chilean, Liz’s is Mexican, and the twins’ is Puerto Rican. This isn’t really plot relevant, but due to not sharing mothers, the kids don’t really feel connected.

Liz is pretty close with Mike and Juney, but Cassidy resents her attitude about William (thinking she can earn his love and attention), thinks she’s spoiled, and they don’t get along at all. Cassidy does, however, get along very well with Juney- she’s literally the single sweetest kid in the entire world. She doesn’t like Michael much, and often defends Juney from his bullying. Cassidy never had time to hate Michael for the bite, having been murdered shortly after on the same day in a similar way by William.

See, the only kid who died directly at William’s hands was Charlie, and he hadn’t even intended to kill Charlie. He just shoved her against the brick wall of the diner too hard in his drunken anger and broke something that left her writhing and dying on the ground. The rest of the kids, however, were only wounded by his attacking, and he killed them when he stuffed them into the animatronic bodies. And especially since Juney was already inside the one he used for Cassidy, she was crushed.

(I want to make it clear when I or Sophie write the kids who died that way like my Lizzie or her missing kids what we intend is that they died from the heavy internal damage caused by a major crush injury, and weren’t like horribly mangled)

Elizabeth, however, did have the time to resent Michael for what he did, and while he tried to make it up to her, she became unresponsive to him and even began running away for pity because it was the only way she knew she’d get sympathy for her trauma. While she’d heard William talk about putting missing or dead kids back together, she didn’t really know what it meant, but promised Juney she’d put him back together, and even Cassidy too. William would leave Michael to babysit her as punishment when she would do bad things like run away for attention, and Michael would try to make it less of a punishment- he wouldn’t speak to her most of the time, he would get her her favorite foods for dinner and let her watch TV and go to bed late- the fact that Michael was still there and Juney was dead broke her.

In 1985, Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria temporarily rebranded, featuring a cast of new characters- Funtime Foxy, Ballora, and Funtime Freddy. Unlike the original Freddy, Funtime Freddy was female, modeled after a little girl, had red fur instead of Freddy’s brown, and even wore pigtails. This group of characters was modeled after a circus, and inspired by Elizabeth’s ideas. While it was relatively well-received, it was quite short-lived as William shut down the idea not too long after Lizzie suddenly disappeared. It ended up becoming its own diner reserved for parties eventually, and when the real Freddy Fazbear’s opened back up, there were minimal issues. No more missing children, at least.

The four missing children, who died in 1983, were named Robin, Susie, Madelyn, and Wilson. They were a group of friends who were basically picked off one by one over the span of a few weeks. Susie, of course, haunts Chica, Madelyn is Freddy, Robin is Bonnie, and Wilson is Foxy.

The rest of the timeline is difficult at best because we’re trying to balance the actual fnaf timeline with the fact that Sophie wants Security Breach to take place in 2012.

On the note of Security Breach, Soapies!Michael does actually possess Glamrock Freddy. We’re currently thinking the rest of the animatronics are haunted by little kids picked off by Vanny, but Sophie’s not totally sure.

What she is sure about is the lack of a giant Pizzaplex. What the Soapies!AU has instead is a Fazbear’s pizzeria in a pretty large area inside of a mall, with a main stage for the main four animatronics, a diner, an activities room for laser tag, go karts or mini golf depending on the occasion, and Sun and Moon for the play area. The rest of the mall is just a normal mall, with a serial killer inside.

As for Vanny and Vanessa, she’s not sure what to do with them yet. Or Gregory. She’s debating making Vanny and Vanessa the same person, sisters, or making Vanny some supernatural entity.

Gregory, though, no matter what backstory he’s given, is probably just going to be a random homeless kid looking for somewhere safe who ends up wrapped into Vanny’s plan, and then with an 8 foot tall robot bear that is way more sentient than any robot bear should or would ever be as his dad figure.

First off, love the designs, very unique style for the faces

And I love Cassidy and Juney, they are so precious my children now-

I need to see this Funtime Freddy's design it sounds so cool-

Vanny being a supernatural entity would be a very interesting idea that I haven't really considered before

#asks #answered #valleyfthdolls

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