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frickfracksnatchisback · 6 years ago

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Fixing the Broken Past (AGIT AU-Part 1)

This is a follow up to the You’re Worthless fic I wrote a while back for @shaykai / @hatsparadox ! Keep in mind that as your reading this it’ll jump to two different periods in time. One plot is in the present with the other in the past. Enjoy!

***

It was like any other lazy Sunday. No customers and nothing to do.

Thor was sitting inside his security booth at the front of the scrapyard. He sat in his chair as a nearby radio played peppy music that filled the entire booth. He was tinkering with the various metal pieces laying on his desk. There were all kinds of bit and bobs he had found while looking through the heaps of junk. Copper wires, nuts and bolts, even a few old computer chips that he was lucky enough to find.

It had been harder to get replacement parts these past few days, which he found rather odd. He had been constantly coming up short with the pieces he needed for his projects, but he could always try and make new parts. Although he found it tedious to do so, it was better than having to buy the expensive and unreliable brand of the Mafia’s hardware store. The less money he could give to those cheats the better.

After a few minutes of screwing in bolts he decide to stop fiddling with the pieces on his desk and relax for a little while. He leaned back in his chair, put his feet on the desk, and used his hat the cover his eyes from the sun. On days like these, there really wasn’t anything better to do than just snooze. Sure, people would come in to occasionally get rid of some stuff. Like robots they didn’t want anymore, faulty machines, scrap pieces that no longer worked, that kind of stuff. But today had, for some reason, decided to be extremely slow. He sighed and slowly began to close his eyes. If he had enough spare time on his hands he might as well spend it by getting some well deserved shut-eye.

“Hello? Mr. Thor?”

Or maybe not.

Thor lifted the hat from his eyes. Standing in front of the booth was a pair of happy, blue eyes staring back at him. A pair of blue eyes that belonged to the sweetest, most kindest little girl he had ever met in his life. She had brown hair, an adorable purple outfit, and a top hat that was almost always perched on top of her head. Her name...well, he didn’t really know her name. But most people just called her Hat Kid.

“Oh! Hey there squirt!” he said as he quickly got his feet off the desk and straightened himself up in his chair. “How’s my favorite little customer?” he smiled. She giggled which made him smile even more, seeing her happy always made his day. “Let me guess, your here to see my recent projects huh?” he asked her as he noticed she was carrying around an old, red wagon. She nodded, she was usually a kid of few words but that suited him just fine.

“Wait for me you punk!”

Another girl was running up to the booth with her red cape flapping in the wind. She skidded up to the front of the booth and posed heroically. This girl was the complete opposite of Hat Kid, yet somehow the two were friends. She had a hood instead of a hat, brown eyes, and blonde hair with a matching mustache. Hat Kid called her Mu.

“Ah, I see you brought the little thief with you this time.” Thor chuckled. Mu looked back at him with annoyance.

“Hey! You watch who you’re talking to buster!” she yelled as she pulled several fighting poses. Thor laughed, this kid sure had some spunk! “Besides, it’s not stealing if it’s junk that people don’t want.” the small girl huffed.

“It is when you sneak in at midnight.” Thor said plainly, she simply mumbled in reply. He could still remember the day when he caught her stealing scrap pieces while he was on night guard duty. Not that she wasn’t stealing for a good cause, she hated the Mafia even more than him. Still, she had proved to be quite the troublemaker. That meant he had to keep an extra eye on her. Heh, too bad that Tim wasn’t here to help him with that!

“You two girls caught me at a good time. Well, follow me.” he said as he stood up and went out to lead the girls to his workshop. The two girls followed him, one being more reluctant than the other. As they walked through the entrance he could hear Hat Kid humming a little tune as her wagon rolled along behind her. She seemed excited today, maybe she was hoping to find a new friend. She was always good at making friends.

Especially the robotic kind.

The kid had a huge soft spot for robots. He remembered when he found an abandoned service bot in the scrapyard. It looked like an orange cat in a torn chef’s uniform. She was beaten up pretty badly, not to mention scared out of her wits. She was absolutely terrified of him and ran whenever she saw him, not like he blamed her. It took him forever to coax her out of the hiding spot she made and he only managed to fix a few broken parts. He called up Hat Kid one day and asked if she could help him calm the bot so he could hopefully fix the rest of her.

The moment that Hat Kid set eyes on that bot for the first time the two became practically inseparable. She eventually adopted the bot and brought her home. The bot helped to return the favor by cleaning around the house, cooking meals, tucking her into bed, almost like a nanny. What did the kid name her? “Cookie” or something? Well one thing was sure, she did have a way of quickly befriending robots. Maybe she could give the ones in his workshop a new home.

As they made it to the front of the workshop the two children could see the two large entrance doors bounded by a lock. Thor pulled out his key chain to unlocked it. “I’m afraid we don’t have much. I haven’t been able to find enough pieces to fix all of them but you’re welcome to look around.” he said as he unlocked the door. Hat Kid bounced excitedly, the handle of her wagon making rattling noises as she did so. She then dropped the handle and left the wagon behind her.

“Why do you want a new robot anyways? Don’t you already have one?” her friend piped up.

“So CC has a new friend!” Hat Kid said simply, Mu just shook her head.

“Whatever. Just so long as I get to see some really creepy ones.” Mu said as the two followed Thor inside.

The workshop’s metal wall were rusty and the stench of oil filled the air. Different kinds of robots sat in chairs, on the floor, in corners, even on two nearby workbenches. Their were tools, bolts, and screws scattered all around the floor. The buzzing of electricity could be heard around every corner as some robots were linked up to power generators. Some of the robots twitched but none of them startled as small sparks emitted from them. Not many, but a few robotic limbs laid beside the sleeping robots.

“Watch your step girls.” Thor warned the two as they stepped over a pile of tools sprawled out on the floor. “Sorry about the mess squirt. You know I’m not very organized in my work spaces.” Thor nervously chuckled.

“Are you kidding me? This is so awesome!” Mu yelled out as she grabbed a robot’s head that was laying on a workbench. “Look at this one! Super creepy.” she said as she put it over Hat Kid’s shoulder. She laughed as Hat Kid yelped out in surprise and quickly took the head away from her.

“Are any of them awake?” Hat Kid asked as she put the head back on the workbench.

“No, sorry squirt. They’re all shut down right now.”

“Why?”

“Eh, makes them easier to work on. Its better to try and fix a sleeping robot than have it be awake and squirm around while you’re trying to fix it.” Thor stated as he bent down to pick a robot laying on the floor to set it back against the wall. “Also I don’t know if you’ve noticed but a lot of these robots where throw away by previous owners. That means they don’t take too kindly to humans messing with their insides.” he sighed as he patted it on the shoulder.

“Even one who just want to help?” Mu asked this time.

“Yeah, poor guys just can’t tell friend from foe anymore.”

“They why do you help them if they hate you?”

Thor, still hunched down, turned to look at her. “I don’t think it’s right to just leave them to rust on the streets. Every robot has a purpose, so why waste it by just throwing them away?” He said as he stared deeply into her eyes. “Besides, it’s the only thing that’s kept me going.” He stood up, dusted himself off, and walked over to the back of the workshop.

Mu kept silent as she followed the two in front. She never really understood robots but she knew a thing or two about feeling empathetic towards someone. Maybe that counted for the someones made out of metal too. She guessed that’s why Hat Kid liked robots so much.

“Well, here you go. These fellows are a little more intact so take your pick.” Thor gestured to the robots lined up at the back of the wall. Some were rather short while others were about Thor’s height. And aside from a few scratches and dents in their metal they were in good shape like he said.

“What’s this one supposed to be?” Mu said as she walked up to one and knocked on its head.

“Be careful there kid! These guys are still a little fragile.” Thor walked over to fix its head back to its original position. As he explained the different functions of the robot to Mu, Hat Kid stood there examining the robots.

“Hmm...” she said as put a hand on her chin in thought. All of them looked good, not to mention friend-shaped! But she couldn’t take all of them home with her, the house just wasn’t big enough. How was she supposed to choose? Maybe she could pick the little one? The really big one? Maybe the…

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a huge figure covered in a blue, plastic sheet.

Curious, she walked over to the corner the covered figure was sitting in. It was a small distance away from the other robots and was very tall in size. So tall that it almost reached the ceiling! As she came closer she noticed that the sheet was covered in a thick layer of dust. She ran a finger across to confirm that, yes, it was quite dusty.

“Mr. Thor? What about this one?” Hat Kid hollered in the twos direction. Mu look relieved as she was starting to get bored of Thor’s explanations.

“Huh? Which one?” Thor called back. His eyes grew wide as he noticed what she was standing next to. “Wait! Hold on a minute!” He quickly dashed over to the figure, leaving a confused Mu behind him. When he made it over he frantically looked it up and down, as if checking for something important. “You didn’t turn it on did you?” he asked Hat Kid in a worried tone.

“Um...no?” Hat Kid said, confused.

“Oh thank goodness!” Thor said as he let out a heavy sigh.

“Is there something wrong with that one? Is it broken?” Mu questioned as she walked over to the two.

“Well, uh, yeah he is but-”

“Can I we see him?” Hat kid interrupted him, excited about the mention of “he”.

“No! Absolutely not!” Thor put himself in between the figure and the two girls. Hat Kid and Mu looked back at each other, he was definitely hiding something interesting from them.

“Is it super gross-looking? Let me see!” Mu insisted.

“I-I don’t think that’s a good idea kid.”

The girls looked back at each other again. “Please?” they both said in union, giving Thor the cute-puppy-dog-eyes stare. Thor hesitated for a moment before sighing in defeat.

“All right, all right. Fine. Just don’t tell Tim about this.” He muttered as he grabbed the dusty sheet and pulled it away. A cloud of dust filled the air, making the two girls cough and try to wave the cloud away.

The two girls then gasped as the dust cleared. They saw a very tall and very purple robot. It was oddly noodle-shaped, very thin at the bottom, and missing an arm on one side. What it was supposed to be they couldn’t quite tell, but it looked creepy and awesome at the same time.

“Woah! It looks pretty cool for a piece of junk!” Mu exclaimed.

“Hey! Don’t be rude!” Hat Kid scolded her.

“Ugh, fine.” Mu groaned. “He looks pretty cool for a piece of junk.” she finished.

“Still rude.” Hat Kid fussed again, but Mu wasn’t listening. She was too busy getting closer to the robot to get a better look of it.

“Careful, kid! This guy is dangerous.” He said as he pointed at the remaining arm. Hat Kid could see he was more specifically pointing out that the arm’s hand was clawed and very sharp. Mu noticed this too and simply scoffed.

“Oh yeah? Well so am I!” she said as she whipped her cape behind her and put a hand to her chest. Hat kid and Thor groaned together.

“Seriously kid, he’s very hostile. You’re lucky he’s off right now.” He said bluntly, making Mu’s cheeky grin fade.

“Hostile?” asked Hat Kid, cocking her head to the side. Thor looked back at her guilty.

“Yeah, hostile is putting it lightly.” he said, giving the robot a mean look. “Me and Tim found him locked up in an old shed. We figured he was a good find and he was in pretty good shape when we found him. So we decided to switch him on to try and ask what had happen to the poor guy.” he explained. “Well...let’s just say it didn’t end too great. It’s part of the reason Tim’s taking a break for awhile.” Thor finished as he shuffled uncomfortably. Hat Kid gasped at his words.

“You mean that’s why he’s is in a sling?!” Hat Kid exclaimed, Thor slowly nodded.

“You said that was a working accident!” Mu pointed at him accusingly.

“It was an accident!” Thor was quick to defend himself. “At least...I sure hope it was an accident.” he grumbled as he gave the robot another glare. Hat Kid looked at him and then back at the robot. As she stared at the robot a deep emotion of sadness and pity built up inside of her. She just couldn’t imagine how scary it would be to be locked away in an old shed for such a long time.

“Maybe he was scared.” She said quietly. Thor shook his head.

“I don’t think he was scared, squirt. If he was he had a weird way of showing it.” Thor let out a hefty sigh. “I just a good thing that I had my stun gun on me, otherwise who knows what he would’ve done.” Thor said, cringing at the memory. The robot had gone completely haywire. He could still hear the robot’s mad laughing echo in his mind. He swore that he would kill both of them, and he had almost succeeded. If he hadn’t been prepared at that moment...

He looked back at Hat Kid, hoping she got the message. She was staring at the robot with this strange look on her face. Oh no he thought. He knew this look, it was way too familiar. It was the same look she gave Cookie when they first meet. The kind of look that said “I’m going to take you home and nothing can stop me”.

“Don’t even think about it kid. You’re not taking this guy with you.” he said strictly. Hat Kid looked back at him with a very upset expression.

“What?! Why not?!” she pouted.

“Kid, I’ve already told you ‘why not’. Besides, what if you got hurt?” he scolded, putting his hands on his hips. Mu dashed in front of Hat Kid and use her body as a shield.

“I’d protect her! There’s no way I’d let that tin can even think about hurting my friends!” Mu said angrily and puffed out her chest.

“Tim would strangle me just because I let you see him. Imagine what he would do if he found out I let you two kids keep a murderous robot?” Thor argued. “Why don’t you just pick one of the other bots over there?” he pointed back to the line of robots. Hat Kid eyes welled up with tears and Mu face was filled with disappointment.

“Please?” Hat Kid whimpered. Thor gulped, he felt the pressure building on. He always had a weakness when it came to children.

“Okay, fine. You can take him with you.” Thor said, defeated. The two girls perked up and cheered. “But on one condition.” he added, making the girls groan. “If he tries to harm you in any way, you immediately bring him back to my workshop. Is that understood little miss?” Thor pointed at Hat Kid. She quickly nodded in understanding. “Promise?” he demanded.

“Promise!” Hat Kid chirped.

“All right then, he’s all yours.” Thor said reluctantly. The two girls celebrated by holding hands and jumping up and down. Mu then stopped, her smile gone now.

“Hey HK?” she asked Hat Kid using her nickname.

“What?” Hat Kid stopped jumping to listen.

“How are we going to fit this guy in the wagon?”

***

The rain poured heavily outside the manor as Vanessa was being escorted her room. The servant walking up the stairs behind her said nothing as he silently pushed her along. The candlestick she was holding was the only light being shone, making the atmosphere even gloomier. When they reached her bedroom door the servant rushed in front of her to hold the door open for her. She had half a mind to walk away, to leave the servant with an empty room. Instead, she begrudgingly entered the room step by step.

The moment she was fully inside she heard the closing of the door and the clicking noise that followed after, signaling that she had been locked in. The thunder boomed as the lightening helped to illuminate her bedroom, which was now her prison. She walked over to sit in the lonely chair near the vanity and set her candle down. She looked in the mirror, a pitiful face stared back at her. Only one thought ran through her head constantly as the thunder roared outside.

This wasn’t her fault.

She could remember every detail. The hand-holding, the heartbreak, the hatred. She could remember every part of their whole “lovers quarrel”. She had been so angry. It felt like she couldn’t stop no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much he screamed. She just wasn’t able to stop herself. She had felt sad, spiteful even. But also very powerful. She was the one in control. She had to teach him that lesson, no matter what the cost.

But the cost had been all too great.

She could still hear the awful sounds of crashing metal in her memory, as she recalled the exact moment when he hit the floor. It was too late for her to take it all back as his body just laid there, not moving at all. No spasms or twitching of any kind. His body was completely still. A small puddle of oil formed around him, staining the pink carpet. That’s when she started to panic. She laid next to him and shook him violently to see if he could wake up. She could feel a deep pit of dread starting to form inside of herself. What had she done? What if her parents found out?

She couldn’t take that chance. She had to get rid of him before her parents came home. She remembered her dragging the body from out of the room, it’s head clanking down against the wooden steps. It seemed to take forever with the heavy metal scraping against the floor, causing her to put in more effort. She finally dragged it through the back door and pulled it into the garden area. She left the body were it was to go and look inside the garden shed for something useful. Anything that could make the body lighter so it would be easier to dispose of. She quickly found an axe and didn’t hesitate to grab it. It would have to do the job.

She ran back over to the body and looked for a good place to start. She found her target and brought down the axe on his leg, it made a terrible wrenching sound. The strike only made a large cut in the knee so she brought it back down again. It took her many tries before she managed to get the first leg completely off. Sparks were shooting out of wires and oil was spilling everywhere. The bottom of her favorite dress became stained with the dark fluid and little black droplets sprayed onto her face. But she continued, carefully avoiding the sparks so her dress wouldn’t catch fire. She moved over to the other leg and chopped it off just as she did the first. She picked up the legs and was ready to toss them aside so she could work on the rest of the body.

That’s when she was startled by the yelling of her parents.

Apparently, they had arrived home sooner than she expected. It didn’t take them long to find the trail of oil leading from her bedroom to were she was now and they were quick to follow it. Once they found her daughter in an oil stained dress, robot legs in her arms, and an axe on the ground they knew they had caught her red-handed. And what a scolding she received from them! They screamed at her for ruining her dress! For making such a mess in the manor! For being absolutely reckless with something so expensive!

And after hours of yelling about how disappointed they were, they agreed on her punishment. She had been grounded for a month. A whole month. She was told that she would be locked in her room with no toys or entertainment until she had learned her lesson. Because of course, whenever she left them all those other times they wouldn’t even bat an eyelash. But the one time she didn’t want to be seen they just had to destroy her life. On the one day that happened to be special, her birthday. It had all been ruined by her unfaithful liar of a prince and her cruel, uncaring parents.

She came back to the present, it had been a few days since the worst day of her life had happened. That didn’t change the fact that she was still grounded, however. Her eyes were locked on her reflection. A tear slowly rolled down her cheek, it seemed golden in the candle’s light. Why was the world so cruel to her? Why was life so cruel to her?! She had lost everything she ever cared about. Her things, her freedom, even her prince was gone now. It wasn’t her fault, so why was she being treated like this? If her prince hadn’t lied to her she wouldn’t be in this mess. And it wasn’t. Her. Fault.

And yet…

She put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it tightly. She thought about how her prince used to put his hand on her shoulder whenever she was upset. His calm voice and cheery nature made her so happy. He danced with her, brushed her hair, complimented her. He did as he was told, and their life had been wonderful and pleasant. But now her prince was gone forever. He would never put a hand on his princess’ shoulder ever again. She was alone, and there was nobody to talk to but her own reflection.

“He’s never coming back, is he?” she asked the mirror, half sobbing. The rain continued to fall outside and the tears in her eyes did the same. “Oh my prince, my darling prince! If only you didn’t disobey me! Then I wouldn’t have to be alone in this prison!” she said as her voice became more broken. She stopped being able to form words and covered her tear-soaked face in her hands. She was a crying mess as she crashed in a heap on top of the vanity. There was nothing to comfort her now but the sounds of the thunder.

“Now, now my dear. There’s no need to be so upset!”

She slowly looked up from her hands. Through all her crying she thought she heard someone else speaking to her. “Nonsense.” she said in her still distraught voice. “There’s nobody here but me. I’m all alone in this room.” she reasoned to herself.

“Ah, but you’re not alone Vanessa! I’ve been with you this whole time.”

She quickly stood herself up in her chair. It wasn’t just her imagination. She did hear another person speaking to her. She shook in her seat, not even daring to look behind her. She was scared, had a thief broken into her room? Or worse, had a murderer come to kill her or keep her for ransom?

“W-who’s there? Who are you?” she said quietly, she was badly frightened. She didn’t dare to scream now, fearing the cold steel being plunged into her back or the sound of a gunshot being fired into her head. “Please…please don’t hurt me.” she closed her eyes tightly as she begged for mercy.

“You have nothing to be afraid of my love! Besides, we have a lot of catching up to do.”

The stranger chuckled as she heard a creaking noise behind her, like the sound of something being opened. She then heard sounds of movement from behind her, but she kept her eyes closed tight. She was huddled in her seat with no knowledge of who was behind her and what they were going to do to her.

“Vanessa, you can open your eyes now.” the stranger said in a singsong voice. She hesitated greatly, but she didn’t want to anger the person. She managed to take in a deep breath, open her eyes, and turn around in her seat.

The lightening flashed, lighting up the silhouette that was only a few steps behind her. The stranger was revealed as not a dangerous man, but a robot. One she had never seen before in her life. And despite its earlier tone of voice, it didn’t look very friendly.

Its eyes were a sinister red and its smile was wide and full of sharp teeth. Its head was an odd crescent shape and it had one large wheel attached to the bottom. It also had four arms with clawed hands. One pair of hands were helping the robot lean on the desk behind it while the other pair tapped playfully on the desk’s surface. Its metal body was coated in drops of water, which was most likely the rain from outside. It also wore a jacket which was caked in dried mud and damp from the rain.

“Who are you? How do you know my name?” she asked, more confused than scared. The robot stopped tapping and looked back at her with a shocked expression.

“Why, you don’t remember me at all?” it said bringing a hand to it’s chest. “Oh, you wound me so! I am deeply hurt by your words.” the robot put another hand to it’s forehead, acting rather dramatically. “How could you forget a face as handsome as this one?” it asked as brought its fingers to the edges of its smile. She just stared, it didn’t seem like this robot was all right in the head.

“Well, it’s hard for me to remember you if we’ve never met.” she said matter-of-factually. The robot giggled.

“I suppose you’re right my love. I have had a few...upgrades since we last met.” the robot said, gesturing to his entire body. “But it’s still quite a shame. I only wore these dirty old rags so you could recognize me.” it said while tugging the bottom of its jacket. She look at the jacket, and it was practically rags like the robot said. With all holes and tears she could barely tell what was supposedly so familiar about it.

“I don’t see how that’s supposed to remind me of anything. It just looks like you’re wearing an old coat” she stated plainly. “Why don’t you just quit playing this foolish game and just tell me already?” she said, putting her hands to her hips. She was starting to lose her patience with this bucket of bolts. The robot frowned and its eyes flashed and became a deeper red, she shrunk back a little. But then the robot simply smiled back at her, as if the deadly glare before hadn’t even happened.

“Well...if my old clothes aren’t enough to remind you, then maybe this will.” it said as it stopped leaning on the table to come towards her. She backed up a few steps, fearing what the crazy robot was about the to do next. It stopped until it was right in front of her and with one pair of arms it reached for her hands. It grabbed them tightly with its own, she could feel the cold metal which was slick from the rain. She tried to struggle away but another hand reached for her face and forced her to stare into the robot’s glowing red eyes.

“Vanessa.” the robot cooed as it used one last hand to run its fingers through her hair. “Do you remember that promise I made to you?” it said with an eerie tone. A shiver went down her spine, something about the word promise made her feel very strange. What promise? What did it mean? “I said I would always be loyal to you, did I not?” the robot continued, interrupting her thoughts. “I would always care for you, dance with you, be kind to you...” the robot stopped playing with her hair and its words trailed off. It stood still with a sad expression on its face, almost as if it was going to cry. “But was that not enough my dear?” it asked softly. “Was my programming all wrong? Did I not prove that my love for you was indeed true?” it stared back at her, begging for a response. It was then that the realization hit her.

“My prince?” she said shakily as she could feel her eyes widened. No, no it couldn’t be him. It just couldn’t be him! Her parents took the rest of him away after they found her in the garden, never to be seen again. So how, how in the world could he still be here?! And what on earth happened to him?! He was supposed to be gone! He was supposed to be-

“Dead.” she found herself blurting out. The robot, who she now knew was her prince, went from sad to shocked as all of his arms fell to his sides. “You were dead! I saw you, you weren’t moving at all!” she wailed, she could feel every inch of her body shaking. “Am I going mad?! How could you have survived after I-” she stopped in her tracks. She had said too much. He just stood there and stared at her.

And smiled a wide and evil smile.

He had the face of a maniac as she could feel his eyes beginning to burn into her soul. His sharp teeth were gleaming and his head seemed to twitch. She backed up against the wall, hugging herself for protection. “I-I didn’t mean to I swear! I just thought that you were-” she pleaded before he put up a hand signaling her to stop.

“It’s alright my dear. Everything is okay.” he said, trying to soothe her. Its frightening face before had disappeared and was now more calm and collected. “I understand, you must be so confused. But trust me, it will all make sense to you soon.” his smiled had also changed to and it was much friendlier than the last. She wasn’t sure what she should do or say, the robot’s emotions seemed to change quicker than she could keep up with.

“So...you’re not going to hurt me?” she squeaked, still fearful for her life.

“Vanessa! I’m surprised at you! I’m come all this way and you think I would do something so brash?” he said sounding particularly offended before chuckling to himself. “No, no my dear! You’ve got it all wrong! I came here to reunite with you!” he said cheerfully. She perked up a little, hopeful that she would be able to get out of this situation.

“Really? You came back here to be with me again my prince?” she asked timidly.

“Please, call me Moonjumper now.” he said before bowing humbly. “And of course I did my sweet! I couldn’t just leave you here all alone now could I?” he continued before going eerily silent.

“Not to mention...we need to fix a few things about our relationship.”

Vanessa started to ask what he meant before a strange hissing noise startled her. She saw that the hissing noise was emitting from Moonjumper as he slowly opened his mouth. Strange light blue smoke came pouring out of his mouth and flew in her direction. She coughed as she received a face full of the strange smoke. She manage to get a whiff of it, the smell wasn’t noxious at all but it was awfully sweet-smelling.

She started to feel dizzy. Her vision became hazy as the world around her was starting to fade out. The last thing she saw before she passed out was Moonjumper’s smiling face.

“Sweet dreams my love...”

***

Apologies for the wait, I would’ve posted it yesterday but I didn’t have the time. Also this might turn into three parts instead of two but we’ll have to see what happens!

#ahit #a hat in time #ahit fanfiction #a hat in time fanfiction #ahit fanfic #a hat in time fanfic #a gear in time #agit #agit moonbot #ahit moonjumper #a hat in time moonjumper #ahit vanessa #a hat in time vanessa #ahit hat kid #a hat in time hat kid #ahit thor #a hat in time thor #frickfrack fic

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themoondripsred · 3 years ago

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Blood Moons; ShadowClan Allegiance

Leader (ultimate authority of the Clan, chosen by the past Leader)

Sweetstar- large, dark brown tabby tom with bold copper eyes

Deputy (next in line to lead, second most authority of the Clan)

Feathersky- pale blue tom with green eyes

Medicine Cat (heals injuries and sickness, and receives visions from StarClan)

Softhare- speckled white molly

Apprentice- Hawkpaw

Warriors (toms, and mollies without kits)

Blossombird - speckled white tom

Mate- Softfoot

Fadingsnow - brown tom with torn ears

Shellface- gray tom with black markings

Apprentice- Aspenpaw

Leafsmoke- ginger tom with dark speckles

Apprentice- Tigerpaw

Hazeljaw- varied brown tom

Mate- Willowtail

Halfoak- brown and cream tom

Mate- Archtail

Addertooth - dark brown molly with a huge scar on their belly

Apprentice- Spottedpaw

Webthroat - pale ginger molly

Apprentice, Flowerpaw

Duckfeather - silver tom

Mate- Shellbelly

Apprentice- Hawkpaw

Weaseldapple - thin dark brown tom with lighter spots

Apprentices (older than six moons, in training to become Warriors)

Sunpaw - red-and-black tom with bright yellow eyes

Flowerpaw - gray tom

Hawkpaw - gray and white molly

Aspenpaw- creamy brown molly

Spottedpaw- calico molly with symmetrical spots

Tigerpaw- large, fluffy lavender tom

Queens (mollies expecting or nursing kits)

Shellbelly - cream and gray tabby molly

Softfoot - light orange molly

Archtail - dark brown tabby molly

Willowtail- lavender and cream molly with dark tabby stripes

Elders (former warriors and queens, now retired)

Sunear - light orange molly

Wolfjump- white and gray tom with long fur

Rareberry- dark red molly with white spots

Nightbrook- bluish black tom with blind blue eyes

Kits (less than six moons old, under care of the Queens)

Shellbelly's kits

Blackkit - black molly with white paws

Breezekit - gray and white tabby tom

Softfoot's kits

Fernkit- pale molly with brown spots

Elmkit- rusty tom with a brown mask

Mousekit- stringy white tom with ginger splotches

Leafykit- ginger, brown, and white molly with large paws

Archtail's kits

Sunkit- brown tabby tom with a pale head

Frogkit- light brown tom with varied brown stripes

Pinekit- fuzzy brown molly with black spots

Willowtail's kits

Doekit- brown tom with creamwhite spots

Foxkit- reddish-brown molly with lavender splotches on her belly

Ferretkit- varied brown tom with a pale underbelly

Maplekit- brown-ginger tom with pale paws and muzzle

#blood moons allegiances #allegiances

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daleespringdraw · 4 months ago

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Meet Copper The Rusty-Spotted Cat! I made a new reference sheet for them as well as a bit of extra info!

Heres the original relationship sheet if you wanna use it!

#digital art #digital sketch #digital illustration #Copper The Rusty Spotted Cat #idw sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sth #sth oc #sth oc art #idw sonic the hedgehog

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notoriousjae · 7 years ago

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The 72 Rules of Cat Grant || Supercat (8/?)

Chapter Title: Diving

Pairing: Kara Danvers/Cat Grant

Rating: M

Chapter Description:

“I like this side of you.” Cat decides, throat bobbing as she swallows the offering.

“Of course you do. Because you’re so certain that it’s all your fault.” The tease causes another laugh and when Cat reaches across the desk, Kara runs fingers along her palm until she can hear her heartbeat ease into the softest staccato among the constant fluttering of pens outside this closed-off office of glass.

Note: Finally mostly up-to-date with all this jazz.

Chapter 1: AO3 Link | FF.Net Link | Tumblr

Chapter 2: A03 Link | FF.net Link | Tumblr

Chapter 3: AO3 Link | FF.Net | Tumblr

Chapter 4: AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr

Chapter 5: AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr

Chapter 6: AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr

Chapter 7: AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr

Chapter 8: AO3 | FF.Net | Below:

It’s day five (and a half) by the time Kara feels her whole life flash before her eyes. Fortunately, the majority of it (where she had a fitful sleep for twenty-four years or so, waking up every few minutes or hours or years to gasp until the life support systems would guide her back into oblivion) is lost in favor of remembering the way Alex had looked when she took her flying the first time, mixed with a murky memory of how Catherine’s smile can catch sunlight. Kara doesn’t have much time to think, at all, and those two images seem to be the best her mind can come up with when her body is thrown through a concrete barrier, fingers scratching at cement to catch her before she can plummet into the murky waters below.

This is officially not her most graceful fight.

The overwhelming taste of green and copper is nauseating-- this is what nausea feels like--and when Kara spits, red spews like paint splatter against the dirty canvas of a life-stained bridge, stumbling to shaky knees when unfocused blue eyes spot the sight of her cousin towering over heaving shoulders of the man in front of her.

This isn’t the first time they’ve met. It’s the fourth, in fact.

It’s the same man, Kara realizes with a sinking dread, that had tried to kill Lena Luthor a few hours before--who had nearly killed her sister a few moments later --and the rage is displayed by another mouthful of something else when he rushes forward, fingers curling around a swallowing neck like an iron vice as she spits what blood she has into his face in defiance.

He merely wipes it away with a rumbling chuckle, the coldness of it seeping far deeper than the Kryptonite does. Which is saying something, because the green is slowly slithering up her spine like a venomous snake and breath is becoming ragged against a swelling tongue.

Powerless.

Kal-El rushes to stop him, but the Kryptonite seems to seep into his bones when Metallo (that’s apparently his name, he likes to throw it around like a trademark) blasts him in the chest, her cousin’s body skittering across the bridge like a lifeless ragdoll and Supergirl struggles against hands made of steel she can’t bend as the glow of green overtakes her, body raising limply into the air as her bending throat creaks like a rusty metal door underneath the weight of his hand.

Definitely not her most graceful fight.

There’s countless flashes from the few spattered civilians brave enough to remain on the bridge and when one throws something at Metallo's head to distract him, Kara lets out a rasping--

“ Don’t --”

--even as the action causes a deathgrip to ease, just a little, because the last thing she wants is for them to die defending her.

Kara really doesn’t want anyone to die, actually. Herself and Kal-El included. Because this shouldn’t be it--it shouldn’t be today--not the day when she’d left Winn asleep on his couch to go stop a robbery. Not the day she hasn’t seen James at all. She hasn’t written Lois. She hasn’t laid out her letters. She’d left a cup of coffee on Cat’s desk with no explanation, this morning and hadn't been the person to leave her lover's third, and had left her relationship with Alex in tatters over a very ill-executed suggestion of Metropolis in her apartment, and they haven’t made it to lunch with Eliza , yet, who is probably making the best sandwiches on any coast, and Kal-El--

Kal-El is stumbling towards them, as powerless as she is from the Kryptonite, and the last daughter of the House of El lets out a quiet, frustrated curse of an apology in Kryptonian, before shoving her hand as hard as she can into the green, glowing pit where a heart should be in this man’s chest with a groan of agony to draw his attention towards her.

Before doing what’s probably the stupidest thing she can think of, but the best option for getting him off this bridge and away from Kal-El--away from the people who are now rushing to help her--

A gasp as fingers claw, memories of a green ring and determined eyes and her sister--her sister--

Kara throws all of her body weight just like her sister had taught her, hand curling in this green abyss (this must feel like what shoving a human’s entire arm into a spreading, growing lava would be) feeling the tendrils of it spreading from her wrist to her arm to her neck. She inhales and exhales and suddenly her breath is green and her eyes are green and her world, weak and small and powerless, is green--

Her leg sweeps underneath his thigh and her nails dig in and pull him closer, not further away--

And she throws them both off the edge of the bridge with a pained gasp, the only thing she can manage, the man’s grunt of surprise in her ear overtaken by a string of very british-sounding curses.

Because only one of them can fly.

It’s halfway through their descent, however, that Kara realizes neither one of them can fly and swallows, eyes closing as she feels the wind rush through her hair and the sound of screams in her ears, and has just enough time to fish out the bracelet in her breast, bringing it up to her lips with a faint apology, holding it with what strength she still has.

Today should not be the day for this.

She didn’t say goodbye.

The sun is high and bright and beautiful and Kara’s shoulders almost lazily sag underneath the weight of it as she leans against Catherine’s desk, a takeout box settled on wood and a coffee settled very, very close to her chest. A few moments after depositing them, she decides to plop knowingly--easily--into the chair, instead, and it's a testament to how distracted the CEO must be because there isn't even a half-hearted chide dancing along the office walls, dripping with forced insult and barely-concealed amusement.

“Doesn’t it ever grow tiring, Kara?” Cat quietly asks, eyes settled on a clock and Kara has the most ridiculous urge to skim her lover’s fingers along the edge of gold around her wrist, instead. “Knowing I’ll be here at exactly the same time, every morning. Putting out the same fires with different names. Arguing over semantics. Doesn’t a young girl like you find it tedious dealing with the boring, repeatable minutiae of life?”

“I never get tired of seeing you at 7:05 on the dot, Cat. I actually love minutiae.” Kara shakes her head, coming forward with curled fingers at her lap to keep from running them along the lines of a brow that shouldn’t crinkle quite so deeply. Trying to follow the look in her eyes feels like chasing the tail end of a comet through the stars, something she’ll never be quick enough to wrap her fingers around, and when Cat lets a quiet sigh between the gap of her teeth, she feels succinctly like she’s said the wrong thing. “But I…”

“Of course you don’t, Kara. You haven’t been stuck in an endless Groundhog Day cycle of trying to turn around incompetence, doing the same thing for two decades.” Cat cuts her off, focusing back down on the paper underneath her and a small laugh bubbles up, unbidden, on Kara’s lips, trying to cover it with her hand. It rumbles between them and a singular eyebrow arches over the silver frame of glasses in unimpressed question. “I wasn’t aware my problems amused you. I suppose that’s what I get for paying Lucy van Pelt the 5 cents. Hell, you’ve barely even been alive for two decades, you’re like a perky little goldfish floating around, seeing everything for the first time and then forgetting five seconds later.”

Seeing the tension on Cat’s face, Kara tries to take the insult in stride because the moment she’d walked into a building she currently (for a few more hours) isn’t employed at, she could feel the heat off of Cat’s shoulders. And watch the after-effects of it, given the scurrying employees that told her to run while she could the moment she stepped on the 40th floor.

“Okay, forgetting the fact that you just called me a goldfish, I’m only laughing because I…” Eyes flick behind them and she scoots a chair closer to the desk, uninvited, and ignores the sigh she can practically feel bubbling up on familiar shoulders. “It was the word choice, Cat. I literally spent two decades in space. And I mean literally. Twenty-four years of floating around. Doing the same thing.”

It’s a rare treat to see surprise barely widen those eyes and Kara shakes her head.

“...that’s new information.” Cat’s careful with her word choice and Kara still sees that journalist in the corner of her eyes--squinting and quiet--even as she sees the lover in her clearer and clearer each day, in the way her finger so carefully squeezes the edge of her pen.

“It’s boring information.” The last thing she needs in this week is to see mockups on James’ desk referencing her twenty-four year casting as Sleeping (not) Beauty. She’s trying her best to keep Supergirl out of the news this week. She’s been in it enough, with Metallo. “I wasn’t kidding about the floating. But either way, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.” Cat hums, dipping back in her chair, eyes ever assessing, and Kara leans forward to chase that comet, wrists resting on a desk, “There’s a quote I always think of when I think of you, Catherine--”

“You do realize a person who relies on quotes so often usually does so because they don’t have original thoughts?”

Kara’s eyes barely slit, finger raising, “Okay, that’s the second time. I’m letting you slide because I know you’re obviously stressed and it’s rare for you to talk to me about anything so you’re vulnerable and...and grumpy and I do not want to accidentally get Eve fired so I’m keeping my mouth shut,” She straightens her blouse a little, shoulders tightening as her finger wags, voice even and pointed because sometimes Catherine needs a bit of a push back, “But it’s technically not my job to get you coffee, anymore, and I swear I won’t do it if you keep this up, Ms. Grant. Because this one? This coffee’s mine, and I won’t share.”

Okay, it’s not her best threat.

“Oh, you won’t get me coffee ,” Cat drawls, calling her on it, “My world is ending. It’s almost like I don’t have a thousand nameless employees all perfectly capable of doing menial--”

“ Cat .” Kara’s jaw clenches and her voice sounds every bit as strong as the House of El and, amazingly, she watches fingers pinch at the bridge of a nose before they slowly slide off glasses, a hint of remorse settling in a familiar gaze even if her tone is intentionally--it must be intentionally--bored.

“I’m sorry , whatever.” But dark eyes flick towards the balcony and a small sigh lowers shoulders, quieter--barely a whisper, “I’m sorry.”

Kara takes that as her cue to slowly stand, shutting the office door and lowering the blinds--it’s not an uncommon occurrence mid-day for Cat to need a moment, another migraine tucking at the back of her throat--and a softness tips up lips when she sees a familiar hand splayed over the desk like Cat hasn’t expected her to turn around, at all. At the sight of a frown and a down-turned chin, Kara rushes to assure against such a nonsensical fear, voice the same humming volume of the background news coverage she clicks off (an earlier fight between the superheroes and Metallo) when she promises: “I wasn’t leaving, Cat.”

Catherine lets out a slow, slow breath, fingers rubbing at her temples, and Kara leans against a desk--lowers hands with a teasing, knowing bat to an older pair--and lovingly does it for her, hands smoothing against skin underneath the tight line of perfectly-styled hair that falls between them.

“If you scared me off with a couple of mood swings, I wouldn’t have made it past my first hour of working here. Definitely not the morning after we were together the second time.” There’s a faint, almost fond chuckle at the memory of it, “Or maybe I just forget,” It’s sing-song--beaming, “Because I’m a goldfish.”

Cat sags into her hands, a hint of a warm laugh breaking against her wrists, and lips brush over a tilted forehead in a soft gesture--a gentle forgiveness and quiet hello--a hint of gratitude, even, for being able to be right here for her. It’s the equivalent, Kara knows, of not going onto that balcony alone, and she won’t forsake it.

“I should have stuck with golden retriever.” Fingers curl around Kara’s wrist, nose turning into a palm, and when carefully-blackened eyelashes flutter, Kara can see an ocean of open green in Catherine’s eyes.

“Goldfish is fine. I think I like it. Mainly because, normally when people call me a dog, they’re using another word for it and they’re usually very loud.” A sage nod, “ Very angry. And it’s usually? When I’m helping put them in handcuffs.” Her nose wrinkles and Cat laughs and just like that, the day is a little brighter.

“Well the handcuffs could be arranged.” That’s a decidedly lower drawl and Kara flushes from it--crosses her leg on the edge of the desk--bites the edge of her lip underneath the faintest hint of a blush as she leans forward, a breath above Cat’s knowing eyes.

“Well, if you like being tied up, I have a cape that doesn’t fray.” It’s out of her mouth before she realizes she’s even said it and her cheeks turn the same shade as said cape at the image, clearing her throat a little, unused to being so brazen underneath the warmth of the sun but not shying away from it, fingers lowering from temples to skim along a cheek, a moment later hopping up and dutifully retrieving two pills and a glass of water before resuming her perch, those eyes heating skin far better than the sun ever has as she does.

“I like this side of you.” Cat decides, throat bobbing as she swallows the offering.

“That’s the quote?” A thoughtful hum, but Cat doesn’t pull away, taking another drag of water as elegantly as a socialite might a glass a wine. “That sounds...familiar.”

“T.S. Eliot,” Kara supplies, “ The Confidential Clerk .”

“Of course, everything you could have possibly quoted by T.S. Eliot and some obscure play marks the top of the list.” The glass sets down on the edge of a desk, a reflection of Cat’s quirking lips caught along the edge of it like how stars catch in the glass of her bedroom window, at night.

“ I’m not the one that likes to drop Superfluous Man into the middle of a conversation.” Kara challenges and Cat leans fully back in her chair, fingers idly twining in a familiar pair, so casual and thoughtless that it makes a young smile soften.

“Oh, I really like this side of you.” A nail skims along the inside of Kara’s index finger and she laughs, raising it up to smiling lips.

“My point,” Kara tries because she’s hardly as motivational as the woman she’s attempting to motivate, “Is that you’re a strong woman, Cat, and in anything I’ve ever seen you do--anything you’ve ever done? You’re the one making the terms. You didn’t like that journalism was male-dominated--had no place for women, at all--so you one-upped the scene. You created every form of media sensation possible with, yes, a whole lot of work, you never stop telling any of us about the work, but you did it. Journalism, news, TV, radio. I’m sure people told you you couldn’t be a single mother and a CEO and CatCo is better than ever. And Carter is the smartest, most talented, brilliant kid I’ve ever met.”

Cat hums, a hint of pride flashing over a wistful smile at mention of her son, “That’s certainly true.”

“Even in the hard things, when you gave up your son,” Kara gently reminds, “Society says you can’t have it both ways, and you’re making things with Adam work--and before you blame me for any of that,” Kara raises her free hand, “This relationship with him? It’s all you. It’s on both of your terms, not what anyone else thinks of it.”

A slow, almost shaking breath straightens shoulders, “Also insightful, in a very odd way.”

A beat, "This isn't about the dinner with Adam, right?"

Thankfully, Cat smiles, "No." So Kara continues, thankful and glad (and thinking that she should really go check that Facebook message).

“You paved the way, Cat. For women. You paved the way for all of us to be taken seriously without having to dress like men , either. Which, you know, is nice. Please no comments about my wardrobe.” That's a hasty addition, flushing and barreling on before Cat can get a word in edge-wise, “You’re a mother and successful. You have a portfolio that your accountant says is so well-rounded you could have your own gravitational field.” Kara shakes her head, pressing, “Even our relationship, Cat,” It’s gentler, voice dipping the same moment Cat’s eyelashes do, “We’re against all odds here, but instead of giving up, you created the terms. We both did. We’re making it work so far, aren’t we?”

“It’s been a few days , Kara.” Kara can hear it. She can hear Catherine’s breath catch against the edge of teeth--can feel her pulse barely quicken--but the almost shy smile that tucks up the edges of curving lips, amused and fond, is the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

“It’s been five months, Catherine. Almost six.” It’s an argument she’ll never give up and the fact that Cat doesn’t even try is more than telling, “And we’ve survived. We’re forging new relationship territory, remember? You’re...you’re a woman who changes the world without changing herself to fit it. I’m in awe of it, sometimes, Cat. It’s hard not to be. But it’s just who you are. So why...why would this be any different? You’re talking about CatCo, right? About being unhappy here?”

A grousing hum is all the answer Kara needs, because this is a subject they've broached only in the darkest mist of night.

“Because it’s my entire company, Kara. It’s…” Cat sucks in a breath, frustration quickly overwhelming any traces of her smile, “I’ve spent so long building this empire. This image. My family and--”

“And the things you love, that you throw your whole heart into, aren't as disposable as you want to think.” Kara boldly notes, watching the way Cat's fingers barely flex and leaning closer before she can pull away, voice quiet, because she doesn’t think this is about them, she knows it’s about Cat. Cat’s happiness. And to Kara, that's more important than them. “I don't know what you're thinking of, Cat. I just know... you're not happy with the way things are here, anymore. I get it. And I know you could never leave CatCo or anything,” She laughs at the ridiculous thought and looks curiously at the profile of a woman who suddenly seems content to look through the windows to a balcony overlooking her city--content to look anywhere but Kara. “I know we talk a lot about duty and...that people depend on us.” Kara doesn’t like the way Cat seems to be caught outside, reaching forward to gently tuck up a chin--to bring a gaze up to meet her own away from the city they’ve sworn to protect. “But there's so many ways to help the world, aren't there? And if the way CatCo is doing it isn't what you want anymore...then I don't think anyone on this planet--on any planet, and I've been to a lot of them--is more capable of changing the terms of the world to fit how she thinks the world should be. If you’re not happy, you’ll change it.”

“You...really mean that, don't you? You really think it could just be that easy. Just change the world.” Cat scoffs a little, but there's something so hopeful in her eyes, Kara's words a near tipping point in a game of dominoes. Kara doesn't know what she's done, and likely never will. “You’re so young.”

“Maybe.” Kara concedes, “On this subject you’re definitely the mentor.” Her smile turns sheepish, “Okay, on most subjects you’re my mentor. In fact, I’ve spent a long time studying you, Cat--I'm still adamant that that was part of my job description--so you should be able to take my word for why I believe it’s possible. It’s because you’ve already done it. Your whole life. If you're not happy, and I think you deserve to be happy--you deserve...so much. To be happy,” It’s cold when she drops fingers from a chin, offering a supportive smile, instead, “Then you'll find a way. And if there's anything I can do at all, to help…”

A hand waves towards herself--hopeful and eager and honest--not understanding the hint of conflict settling so deeply, however brief, on Cat's features.

It’s only a moment--a flicker of vulnerability--but she’ll never forget it, the faint flicker of something dark casting shadows over the bright light of Catherine’s lips. It makes Kara stumble a little over the words, enamored by it:

“You should focus on it. The being happy part, remember?”

Kara thinks it must be the weight of figuring out what to do with CatCo--even feels a naive, righteous sense of warmth in her chest from having helped in even the smallest ways--and she'll never quite understand the look in Cat's eyes.

Because that’s the thing with those small, hidden moments before everything changes, it’s impossible to recognize them as lasts until they’re gone. Kara has pockets full of moments just like this one stuffed in a hidden compartment by her heart--her mother’s fingers skimming along the edge of a necklace as she explains love; her father’s eyes brightening as he taps knuckles along a sculpture; Astra’s lips in a dream brushing over her forehead; and this, this moment of Cat’s eyes haunted and conflicted, holding onto something like a planet that’s turning green from the inside out, determined to take the galaxy with it.

Kara towers over Catherine and watches green eyes catch in the sun, the memory burnt on the back of eyelids with a unforgiving sting of a fountain pen. There’s a breath that tumbles from Catherine’s parted lips that means something in its indefinite silence--that hints towards a lifetime of possibilities unsaid--and Catherine almost says something--maybe almost says everything --and this small, simple little exchange is what will play on repeat for months.

Kara Danvers will play it over and over and over again like nails desperately scratching at a broken record. She'll replay the way Cat's hair falls in front of her eyes as her nose dips. The way that her eyes almost shine above those shadows of her cheeks. The way her breath rattles and quakes. The way those fingers curl nails in anxiety and promise.

The way Catherine's lips part and she...says nothing, at all.

What did you want to say?

Kara will beg her to say it. She’ll never scream--never fall to her knees in rage and loss--she’ll never argue or even actually ask anyone but a figment of a ghost of someone she swore not to love--she’ll beg an empty corner of her bed that’s no longer cold, and that’s worse, somehow.

But right now, happy and light and carefree, Kara doesn't notice, instead drumming her fingers on the edge of a desk with a light shrug, too busy trying to pull Cat out of her own head to dive into it, instead. Because that’s her job, these days, she feels, even when she doesn’t exactly have one--to keep Catherine from collapsing in on herself like a singularity with hope and love, alone.

“I was only kidding about not getting you coffee.” Kara smiles and Cat's eyelashes flutter as she lets out that almost quivering breath, nails curling into her desk. It must be nerves or exhaustion but Kara is determined to help cure either, promising, “Let me go grab it for you. Before you can tell me it's not my job, I want to.” A genuine smile, “The little things. I won’t be able to come back here today, anyways, so I’d...like to.”

A foot turns on a heel, intent on walking away and she makes it to the door, fingers curling around warm metal but knowing better to raise the blinds until Cat is ready. Something else she'll have to inform Eve and she's so focused on mentally running through the list in her desk--distracted by the thought of making sure that Ms. Grant has the best replacement possible (did she miss telling Eve anything, while she's here?)--that she almost misses the way Cat's voice quakes when she barely whispers her name.

“Kara?”

Another turn on her heel with a soft hum of question, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of a nose. The sun has settled in Golden hair and showcases the shadows underneath eyes and for one of the few times Kara will ever see it, Catherine Grant visibly hesitates.

Her mouth stills--words halt--and her lips press a thin line. The smile that follows is forced but genuine, something deep cemented in resolution in the depth of her lover's eyes as she jokes:

“My hero.” There’s a quiver at the edge of her lips--a shine to that endless, painting of eyes before Cat’s looking back down. Back to work. “Scalding hot, please.”

But there sounds like there's truth in it--like Cat believes she's a hero through and through--and it makes Kara beam, turning around to get that third latte of the day.

“Anything for you, Ms. Grant.”

Her phone dings at Noonan’s ten minutes later, a freeze-frame of stolen pictures and smiling eyes there to greet smiling eyes.

Thank you.

Teeth tuck at lips and when her phone buzzes again, blue soften and for a second the latte she’s grabbed might actually feel warm against her open hand.

“Boyfriend?” Eve’s tired voice--Kara sympathizes because boy does she still remember her first day, even if this is technically Eve's second--calls around her shoulder, light and kind and knowing and she quickly tucks away her phone, shrugging a shoulder.

“Just a nice text for a nice day.” She offers, instead, eyes flicking down to the mug before raising it up, “Think you’re ready to deliver this one on your own?”

Eve looks terrified.

“Oh, come on, I promise, it won’t be that bad. You’ve done it twice and she hasn’t killed you, right?”

Kara takes another look at her phone, wise enough to hide her smile, this time.

I’m sorry.

A quick reply hidden by her hip--

I’m sticking by the goldfish. It’s forgotten. Really. We’re more than ok Cat. Eve’s bringing you your caffeine fix so please be nice.

Adding for good measure--

Please be nice *Ms. Grant*. Typo?

Even better measure:

Ms. Grant, who has the right to fire anyone she wants but should be nice anyways. ;) Gosh, look at those typos.

She can hear Cat’s indulgent, annoyed sigh forty floors down. The blinds are back up and Kara smiles over Eve’s shoulder the entire time when Cat shoots her a knowing look but wordlessly takes the latte and that’s enough of a victory for Kara. It should be a simple moment, lost and forgotten, moving about her day with no clue--no idea.

“You don’t work here, anymore, Kiera.” Cat calls to her with a glance at a watch, “Seven hours.”

“Yes, Ms. Grant. Consider me not here.”

“Like anyone could shield their eyes, you're like a walking Forever 21 ad.” But Catherine’s smiling now with a flick of a dismissive hand, Eve looking after her like she’s awaiting a nuclear bombing.

Kara’s decidedly not a goldfish. She doesn’t forget.

She sighs in a big, white, empty office, fingers running along stuffed-away pictures, sagging onto a table as she drums fingers along her desk and frowns.

Idly, she plans to get a picture made of the one of Cat on her phone--plans to gently tuck it in a safe place right next to J’onn--and leaves before she can think anymore about a ticking clock, sipping on her own coffee, not bothering to heat it.

Lena’s name lights up the screen of her phone and Kara shoots up into the sky a few minutes later, unable to shake the look on Cat’s face, leaning over a desk, a thousand words left unsaid, and Kara isn’t sure why.

It's the beginning of an end--such simple things usually are--and anytime Kara ever thinks back on it, she'll cry.

The last thing she sees is Kal-El, stumbling and just as powerless as her, diving after her over the edge of the bridge, whatever words croaking out of his lips lost to the sound of the wind.

khap zhalish

The last thing she hears is the sound of Metallo hitting the water and going silent.

“Alex, I’m not saying I’m going to Metropolis, I’m just--”

“Leaving? What is that like our family motto? Did you ever stop to think that I’ve changed my whole life --”

The last thing she does is smile up at Kal-El, trying to assure him as best she can, despite the fear that slowly settles in the pit of her stomach. Falling, at least, feels a lot like flying.

“J’onn?” Kara whispers, fingers tenting over a knee as her chin falls down to it, eyes flicking over towards the familiar, somber face. He hums in acknowledgment, the afternoon sun painting the shining floors of the new DEO building in a way Kara is still getting used to. Everything is so...shiny now. Not all...rock-lair, cave-motif.

“Supergirl?” His voice is gruff as always and she wonders if he would understand what it’s like to not sleep for nearly six days, because she’s certain he sounds like he’s never slept, at all.

“Do you think we can ever be happy? I mean, sure we can, right? Saving the world...” She trails off, chin tipping back as she searches the lines of an exposed ceiling, the words to her question lost on her tongue, unsure how to phrase it outside of her mind, “I know we’ll stop Cadmus--I mean, who comes up with a name like that, anyways? What does that even mean--and we’ll stop whoever comes after that, and I know that the world is full of rules . Especially for people like us. But one of those rules...one of those rules has to be that we should be happy, right?”

“I think…” Kara doesn’t look at his face, but his voice sounds so calm--so confident--so steady as his fingers curl around her shoulder, “If there’s anyone that deserves to find out, it’s you and your cousin.”

“You think?”

“I know , Ms. Danvers.” She turns to take in his smile, then, and she leans into his hand before the squeeze becomes a pat. “You’re still not sure which job--”

“No.” Kara sighs, “It's not that. I think I know, I just...I wonder some days if--I mean, between Alex and Kal-El and Cat--”

“J’onn!” A voice calls around the corner, “We’ve got reports of a jumper on--”

The last thing she thinks before the impact of the ocean engulfing her like an unwanted gift, the pain rattling like a broken baby’s toy through her shattering bones, is that Eliza? Alex?

Catherine?

They’re going to kill her if she dies.

The water soaks through her suit, ice and lifeless, staining the white of a list until it crumples so that when it’s unfolded, for the rest of its life, it will never unfold the same way, again. Like the thin line of glass that can never be repaired to its first form, an uncompleted list will crumple at the edges and fold in uneven lines, some of the ink running at the edges.

It will change--break and mend--just like a heart can.

Rule #72….

Life isn’t as dramatic as the movies--as the books she spent years pouring over bent knees devouring--and maybe hurtling herself and a man bent on destroying dozens of people (herself and her cousin, included) off of a bridge is maybe a little dramatic by nature, but waking up from it isn’t.

She wakes up to an empty room, the heat of a sunlamp staining the rise and fall of her chest with life.

She wakes to a dozen voicemails and one text, in particular, that makes her swallow--she wakes to Kal-El’s smiling, cut face as they both heal--she wakes having not really slept, at all, five and a half days lacking it settling down her healing bones underneath a false Sol just as much as the Kryptonite had.

She wakes up to J'onn's nervous eyes and Alex gone and doesn’t let herself heal and Kal-El doesn’t ask her to. She wakes to her sun having set and the world tasting like cold and green and she tucks a bracelet back in her pocket, not having let go of it for a moment--a breath--the entire time she laid there.

Kara wakes up, maybe, but she doesn't feel awake.

Kara tears apart the city to find her sister and doesn’t let her go when she does, a murmured apology in her ear that’s doubled ten-fold against her neck.

She wakes and heals and saves and a few hours later, all four of them--J’onn, Kal-El, Alex, and Kara--are once again in two separate cities, determined to protect the people within them, moonlight at their backs.

Death doesn’t stop them, and neither does Metallo. She rips out his heart and barely keeps from crushing it beneath her palm.

Kara doesn’t remember being in the water--doesn’t remember much save for falling--but she’ll see the headlines of the image of Superman cradling her body against his chest as he stumbles out of the ocean like a beacon as he holds her , a bracelet limply hanging from her fingers as the sun settles on his shoulders and dances shadows on her bruised, barely recognizable features. Both of their forms cut and bruised and hanging on the edge of life, war-torn and martyrs.

She’ll see the picture hung on the edge of what was once Catherine Grant’s wall, along with their other highest-selling covers--right next to the one of them both healing, scraped and bruised, towering over Metallo--for months every time she walks into the office and feels a chill hang over her features.

She doesn’t remember, but she’ll see that picture and will shatter a breath against her teeth and understand why Cat couldn’t bear to look at it, at all.

The whole night is spent tracking Cadmus with little to show for it and, eventually, in the early hours of the morning--day 6 because being in some kind of coma or something does not count as sleeping--Kara hugs Kal-El tighter than anyone else could, feeling Alex’s fingers on her shoulder, and tells him that she’s staying.

She’s staying. That’s a decision she knows how to make. She’s not going to Metropolis. She’s never going to Metropolis, not as long as Alex is here.

So Kara watches him shoot off into the twilight sky, taking a piece of herself with him--thankfully taking the last of the Kryptonite, as well--before she kisses her sister’s cheek and shoots off, herself.

It’s nearly five in the morning when she sets down on a familiar balcony and wonders why she isn’t surprised to see Cat leaning on the edge of it, swirling a glass in her palm. Either she stayed here the entire night--unlikely, given Carter--or just started early, but the circles unhidden, silhoutting the features of familiar eyes is telling, enough, and Kara has to swallow down more than breath when she comes closer.

Without a word, bruised fingers gently untuck a bracelet from a suit, a little squeezed but since cleaned (haphazardly cleaned in a DEO sink by her cousin at Kara’s pleading, pleading look, and then feverishly cleaned the moment Kara could stand on trembling knees an hour later) and offers it palm up to the woman next to her as their shoulders brush, settling next to her on the balcony.

It’s not unusual that Kara doesn’t know the right words to say--it’s a daily occurrence--so when Catherine takes a long, long drag of the liquid before reaching forward, nails almost reverently skimming along the expensive, bent bracelet, Kara doesn’t bother trying. Instead, she just holds the bracelet up as Cat becomes reacquainted with it--dips fingers underneath the shine of it--and when her lover’s breath finally rattles into the night, Kara doesn’t mention the wet sheen to dark eyes, clear even so high above the city, lights dim and quiet. She just gently unhooks the bracelet and slides it around Cat’s wrist, raising it up to her lips and kissing it in silent apology, just as she had before plummeting into the ocean. Not that she would tell Catherine she’d done that, at all.

That doesn't seem like knowledge that would help.

At least this time, she feels a heartbeat flutter underneath her touch.

And Catherine’s so slow about it, the way her wrist turns and so carefully cups Kara’s cheek in a trembling palm, thumb brushing over the high rise, underneath the worst of her still-healing cuts, that Kara wouldn’t know the words even if she tried to stumble over them.

“That is not what I meant by diving. You certainly like causing a spectacle of yourself, don’t you?” It’s a dry whisper--like a barrel full of whiskey, a burning match hovering above it--and Kara just leans into her. It’s been a long day and there’s familiarity in it, a hint of a laugh flushing cool cheeks.

“Someone likes to tell me I like being difficult.” Kara swallows because the thin smile Cat’s attempted gives way to something else, leaning down to slot their foreheads together and the quaking anger does little to overrun the hint of something far worse on her lover’s tongue.

“We have nearly three dozen witness testimonies regarding your idiotic heroics, and none of them understood the gravity of what happened in front of them. Pictures showing you bleeding before you practically backflipped off of the bridge. You could have--”

“I came home to you.” It’s gentle and loving and a little desperate, lips brushing over a forehead and Cat’s fingers tangle so tightly in her suit that she can barely breathe. “Catherine--”

“You’re still bleeding.” It’s a searing breath that curls up in pain at the end, Cat’s fingers tracing the wound below a bloodshot eye and Kara catches her wrist with a faint wince as that jaw lines itself with steel and features contort in something indistinguishable before Catherine pulls away altogether. Voice far colder: “You missed your deadline--”

Kara selfishly kisses her like her life depends on it--like she can’t catch Catherine with fingers or words, so she tries chasing her with this, instead--pressing her up against glass with a withering, breaking sigh against parting lips. Fingers tangle in her hair and the sound of a bracelet clattering to the floor is lost underneath the scratch of heels, because Kara had forgotten to re-clasp it.

“I don’t care about my deadline.” Kara kisses her again because the further and further Kal-El shoots into the sky, the further the green seeps out of her bones and she knows she can keep Cat here against her with super-strength, but she’d rather keep her with something far darker in the pit of her chest. Almost accusing: “You came up here to wait for me.”

“I wouldn’t--” Catherine practically hisses , a frustrated breath on the edge of her tongue rolling like a locomotive up her lungs, her hands cupping cheeks and tugging her close. “ Yes . I had to see you with my own eyes.”

“I’m right here.” Kara promises, pulling away so that Cat’s fingers can trace every single line of her face like her thumbs are far more knowing than her eyes. And they might be. She sucks in a sharp breath when a thumb swipes underneath that same cut, surprised when Cat tugs her down and gently brushes lips underneath the puckered edge of healing skin.

Catherine kisses her again, consuming and rough, and Kara’s knees shake before she's suddenly pushed her away, again, just as rough and just as consuming, jaw setting.

“We’re crashing the cover.”

“You’re--” Kara blinks because it’s five AM and she doesn’t know how she missed the noise--the life in the building--because her ears are still full of Kryptonite and her lungs might still be full of water, “Oh.”

“You don’t work here, anymore.” Cat straightens her hair--her blouse--sets aside her drink and stands taller than Kara knows how to, shoulders wilting and something quaking pushing through parted lips.

“...oh.” A hint of a desperate laugh, wishing she at least had the bracelet to hold onto because suddenly she feels very, very cold, surprised when fingers gently tuck up her chin and she comes face to face with Catherine’s determined, unwavering gaze. There’s something sad there, now--something Kara’s well aware she’s put there--and it makes her swallow feel like glass. But still she can’t stomach the thought of Metropolis, not now. Not after holding Alex’s trembling hands and not after seeing the look in Cat’s eyes. “I’ll--”

“I extended your deadline.” Cat whispers and Kara blinks.

“You--” Another blink, unable to help the surprise. A third blink because-- “Really?”

“Kara, I’m tough, not cruel.” Her voice is quieter, then, fingers falling from a chin and Kara boldly catches them.

“I don’t think you’re cruel, I just--”

“Thought that I was going to fire you for trying to save someone’s life on the off-chance that you were stupid enough to die?” Cat supplies and Kara swallows.

“Well, I--no? Not exactly...that. Maybe fired me to make a poi--”

“Stop talking before you dig yourself into a hole superstrength wouldn’t get you out of. I’m well aware of what people think of me, I don’t need to add what your pedaling little thoughts are to the--”

Kara reaches up to cup her cheeks in a way that makes Cat visibly tense, words dying out before she smiles, “You don’t want to hear that I think the world of you? I know it’s a little too cheesy for your tastes.”

“You really have to stop talking.” Cat warns but there’s a hint of a smile there, now, and lips brush over a forehead, holding the smaller form against her chest for as long as she’s allowed. Which is longer than expected, long fingers gently raising to spread out over a heart as a nose slots against a neck. Kara can feel the heat of the sun--faint and faraway, but there--on her back by the time Cat untangles herself, a rough sigh sliding past her lips. She bends down and clasps the bracelet properly on her wrist, now.

“Catherine,” Kara murmurs before she can go too far, kissing the rise of knuckles before letting her lover go, completely, “I’m not saying that I think what I did was...okay. I’m not trying to make you feel better, but I...did. Come home to you. I’ll always come home to you, if I can. You’re--you’re what gave me the strength to--”

Cat raises a hand up in-between them, stopping Kara in her tracks, and the look on her face, however brief, is pained enough that Kara feels regret over saying anything at all. The bracelet jangles as the hand lowers and the CEO of CatCo looks back towards her lit office, shoulders straightening and heels clicking, a discarded drink on the nearby balcony table.

“You have until Friday afternoon, 4 O’clock, not a moment later. You’re not stepping foot here in any form of professional capacity until then.”

“Okay.” Kara breathes--nods--looks back up and clears her throat at the straight line of shoulders she wishes she could spend hours easing the knots out of with well-intentioned fingers. Knots she caused. And she thinks Catherine was right, this weekend--she does have to learn how to live with affecting her. “Thank you...Ms. Grant.”

Cat nods and leaves and the balcony feels colder for it.

As cold as the city seems without Kal-El--without Kryptonite, even--and Supergirl turns to tower over her city for a few more minutes before falling down to the street, to the corner around the corner, leaning against the wall by Noonan’s.

She strips off her suit and slowly pulls up jeans--a shirt--and looks down at glasses, cracked along an edge she’ll need to fix, cupped in her palm as the sun starts to rise. She listens to the city wake and the life paint the streets in gold and red and green and with a suit tucked in her bag, a cut slowly healing underneath her eye, Kara Danvers starts the long walk home to an empty apartment across the city.

Alive and exhausted and cold, she doesn't really feel like flying.

**Kryptonian Translations, Mythos, and other DC shenanigans** Source(s) Language **Zhalish: Pardon, excuse, absolve, disregard, exonerate. Another way of saying "I'm sorry". verb P: [n̩.ʒæ.liʃ]; Kryptonian: :ZAliS

#supergirl #supercat #kara danvers/cat grant #is kara ever gonna pick her job?#who knows #ff #ff: sc #fic: 72 rules #fic: sc #fic: 72 rules ch 8 #I'll add the ffnet link later #I'm on a delay with ffnet #because tbh I hate it

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dungeonsanddying · 8 years ago

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Bargain Box Wands

below is my homebrew list of humorous but possibly useful wands, with some magical effects taken from wild magic lists. In the game I'm GMing, these can be found in the clearance bin of a wand shop, with only the price and physical description of the wand, and the players have to buy them and use them to see their effects. Anything that effects another person gets the chance to roll a will save. You are more than welcome to use these in your game, but please think carefully before including them, as there is a chance your players can find a loophole and tear apart your game. These should be primarily for fun, and probably aren't for serious game. ---------------- Blueish green iridescent peacock wand - gave a third eye that allowed caster to see auras (alignments) for 6 seconds. Might be false. Peach colored wand - gives the target permentant horns / antlers of GMs choosing Guacamole colored wand - makes the taste of drinking orange juice after brushing your teeth. The higher the caster rolls on a 1d20 the worse the taste is Twisted wood in a braided wand- gives the target a random hairstyle, the less they want it the sooner it will disappear a opal wand that has a toothy grin carved into it- gives the target cat fangs, giving them a bite attack of 1d4. Fades in 1d6 hours Crystal frosted wand- make a 10ft sq area snow and little baby snowmen come out to help you, they also call you dada Black grey ombré wand- creates a 20x20 ft fog cloud in a random direction Obsidian wand- takes a photo of what the caster is pointing at and prints it out Cotten candy pink fading into pastel blue- target turns into a baby for 1d10 rounds. Pink, black writing "RATZ"- summons 1d100 rats around you. They are not controlled by you Black, grey writing "BATZ"- turns the target into a bat for 1d6 rounds. 10% chance of also turning you into a bat for same amount of time A maroon knotted wood wand with three orange feathers tied to it- summons a random god, they may or may not respond A light colored wood with metal coiled around it- the target becomes illiterate for 3d4 days Pitch black wand with a glowing red crystal at the end: target is suddenly aware the next person they tell their name to will instantly attack them Navy blue wand with little pink elephants painted on the side- target hallucinates for 1d12 weeks A partially leather bound wand with a small hilt, with a flat sharp metal rod for 2/3 of the wand, and you know what it's a knife, its a fucking knife wand- summons a random knife object. (Object with a knife taped to it, E.G. a knife fish, which is a fish with a knife taped to it, or a knife gun) Silvery grey dragon hatching horn, with small grooves in it- Everyone in the party hears an announcer voice in their head, announcing what they are doing and critiqueing it. Lasts until combat is over or 1 hour, which ever comes first. It then gives a synopsis of what happened Radio antenna that you have to stretch out before you can use it- caster's arm stretches out (up to 50 feet) to bitch slap the target. Deals 1 dmg Olive green branch- random person polymorphs into something that rhymes with their name, or is a pun of their name Copper wand with a hollow copper hand at the end- Target becomes mute for 1d20 hours. Purple wand with three eyes, the two outer closed and the center eye open- The dm gives you three pieces of information (dm chooses what it is about), two are lies and one is the truth A gradient dark brown to pale flesh tone wand, with black markings scrawled across it- target gains one tattoo, of dm's choice. The target experiences all the pain of getting a tattoo at once, but the pain is completely gone by their next turn A blue wand with childish yellow stars on it, like a cartoony wizard hat- caster swaps all their spells with the target. If you do not have spells, you swap your feats for their spells or feats instead Black wand with completely transparent crystal for the center 1/3- random body part of target becomes invisible, permanently. Only works on each person twice This wand has the aesthetic of an angsty 2003 teenage garage band- freaky Friday !!!1!!! Caster switches bodies with a random creature nearby, DM can choose or leave it to the dice. Is reversed in 1d8 rounds An uncomfortable shade of beige wand- Target's face turns into that of Nicholas cage's for 1d20 minutes A charred husk of wood- a random object within 40 feet of the caster shrinks Slightly translucent brown wand, with the tip a creamy color, and little lighter brown spots throughout- changes what ever the person is holding into a mug of beer. The person gets a will save to resist it A dark green wand with small runes that is slightly sticky: reverses your alignment for 1d6 days (e.g. Lawful good would be chaotic evil). The person can then choose to keep it or revert back. Cannot be used on an unwilling person more than once A white wand with blue horizontal stripes, and three holes cut out- you turn into paper for 1d6 rounds. From head on you are nearly invisible (seeing as you are paper thin) but you are highly vulnerable to fire and your weapons do no damage, except to rock Light yellow wand with brown ends, and brown spots- one random person around you (including yourself) falls over Two rusty orange wooden wands, bound together by a chain- creates a doppelgänger of the caster, who can communicate telepathically with the caster. I roll to see the doppelgänger's alignment and if they will help your group or cause you trouble. HP of 2 A wand completely covered in soft creamy down feathers- random item in target's possessions sprouts wings and flies away. If the item is grabbed the wings disappear Ten twenty sided dice, all glued together- target suddenly has a vision of the players sitting around the table. They hear who ever controls them saying the action they just took, and starts describing them hearing the controller describing them hearing what the controller is describing them hearing what the controller is describing them hearing... then their sight flares red, and the vision ends. Roll a will save for how they take this info Slightly transparent white wand, with golden glitter in it- Caster can see ghosts for 1d4 hours. Ghosts may be friendly, neutral, or aggressive. Orange wand with darker orange stripes and a white underside- Target smells of catnip, and nearby cats will casually swarm around them for 1d6 hours A sky blue wand with a internet explorer symbol carved into it- After using it, the sound of an action preformed by someone in the next round will be delayed for 1d4 rounds. The caster chooses which sound, and it has to be something they know is coming (e.g. A teammate telling them they will clap next round) A oak wand with a carved sad dog head at one end, and has the words "god damn it Sarah McLachlan" painted on the side- Target begins crying for 1d4 rounds. Roll 1d20 to see how badly they are weeping. A fucking rad lookin glow stick-for 1d20 days the target becomes a living glowstick. Any time they get injured the area around it begins to glow a neon color, like cracking a glowstick. A shimmering black twisted wood wand with a quartz crystal at the tip- Random person in area can now only speak in rhymes for 1d4 hours. A wand made of malachite carvings of spiders, snakes, and wasps all intricately layered-Target gains 1 phobia of GMs choice (players wishes can be considered). Can only be used on the same person twice. A rubber chicken on a stick- the wand spews out 1d10 x 30 feathers up to 30 feet. Doesn't cause any damage. A vial filled with clear liquid, with a button on the side of it- The liquid becomes a random magical potion, good or bad. GM can choose or leave it up to fate. A boring ass black wand- User has X-ray vision for 6 seconds. GM can decide when an object is too thick to see through. A soft grey wand with buttons 0-9, with each of the buttons also having 3 letters, like a flip phone- player can take a few moments to type a message to send to anyone they know who has a blank piece of paper available (journal, scroll, etc all work). The message then appears on the paper, and the sender can decide if it makes a notification sound or not. Depending on the length of the message, it takes a different amount of time. For 3 characters or under it is a swift action, for 10 characters or under it is a standard action, and for 20 characters or under it is a full round action. There is a maximum of 100 characters available per each use. An extremely old yellowed wand, with a wine colored leather hilt. There is a ominous feeling to this wand- the target/s (can target up to 5 people) and the caster are transported to a different world, that of a common story book of the GMs choosing. They must try to make it to the end of the story alive to escape. The people may change species / gender, but they will be able to communicate to the others. (Some story ideas: Charlotte's web, the tale of peter rabbit, Charlie and the chocolate factory, green eggs and ham) A sea foam green wand with little fishes painted on the sides- Target grows gills for 1d6 minutes. Can breathe underwater and in air. Roll 1d20, if 20 you also grow a little dorsal fin, shark tail, and connective tissue between fingers and toes to allow you to double your speed underwater. These modifications are now permenant. This wand appears to be a bone from a human ribcage. Curious.- Target forgets their name and profession for 1d6 hours. Player to the right decides what they think their name and profession is. If the wand is used on a NPC, they still know what they are currently doing (trying to kill the players for example). With NPCS the gm can choose which player to pick the new info, so it isn't always the same person. A carmine pink metal wand with a large crystal ball at one end- tells you one thing you missed in a situation 24 hours or more before.

#dungeons & dragons #dungeons and dragons #d&d #pathfinder #long post

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shannsleeve · 8 years ago

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Fantastic Reasons & Where to Find Them

Thank you again to everyone who has paid this fic some attention! I hope you enjoy the following chapters and if you’d like to be tagged on updates, please reply to this fic!

@teacup-occamy, thank you again for your support and awesome tags <3

Tagging: @sowerewolfglitter, @dorkwolf-nightmare

Note: Fic is canon compliant and follows the plot of the film.

CHAPTER 5

Feather had to admit the young wizard was right; their joint efforts were more than enough to efficiently and quietly Obliviate the crowd. They separated, the wizard to the right and Feather to the left, and circled the crowd, casting their Memory charms until they met again at their starting point. Both the wizard and witch breathed a sigh of relief as the crowd dispersed without looking at them.

“At last.” Feather smiled up at him. “Thank you. You saved my life twice today.”

He smiled in return, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red. “Well I wouldn’t say—um, you’re very welcome.”

“Not many people would do what you’ve done,” Feather said. “Actually, most of them run away screaming.” She turned away from him to cast a silent Reparo on her torn pocket and watched as the wool knit itself back together. “I’m in your debt.” She looked back to the wizard’s face and stuck out her right hand. “I’m Feather. Feather Firestone.”

He took her hand and shook it gently. “Newt Scamander.”

“Newt?”

“Short for Newton,” he said, forcefully rubbing his nose. It was clear he wasn’t too fond of his given name.

“It’s lovely. My parents also enjoyed eclectic names.” Feather chuckled. “Can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to assure people that ‘Yes, I’m Feather, like the ones on the end of a Hippogriff’s wing.’”

Newt’s ears perked up like a cat’s at the mention of Hippogriffs. “My mother used to raise them…so I think that’s a fine way to remember your name.”

Feather felt her cheeks grow warm for the second time that day. “Um…would you like to take a walk? Looks like we might be docking soon.”

Rather than answer her question, Newt looked out over the railing of the ship. Indeed, the city of New York was growing closer by the second, emerging like a great giant from the morning fog. He shook his head as if to clear it. “Sorry. I’ve got to run. Left my case…”

“Oh! Do you need he—“ Feather asked, taking a step forward.

“Sorry!” Newt turned on his heel and sprinted to the other end of the ship, the tails of his coat flapping behind him like wings.

Feather had half a mind to follow him but refrained. It wouldn’t do well to scare a new acquaintance. She felt a familiar ache in her heart as she recalled Newt’s face. “He looks too much like him anyway.”

A piercing whistle cut through the air. Several passengers jumped at the sound while others rushed to the ship’s starboard railing. The ship had made its way through the harbor and was passing the Statute of Liberty. Feather stared up at the glorious green lady in awe. Even though this was her second time making the lady’s acquaintance, she found her all the more stunning. As the ship sailed on and Lady Liberty faded from view, the passengers rushed to gather their belongings. The more experienced travelers made their way to the gangways while others struggled to weave their way through the maze of bodies and baggage.

Feather weaved her way through the crowd with little issue, all the while looking for Newt’s blue coat and rumpled copper hair, eventually finding herself at the entrance to one of the gangways. She didn’t spot him and, as the boat slowly docked, she reluctantly gave up her search. Reaching into her left pocket (the one that hadn’t been torn), she pulled out a battered grey suitcase the size of her palm. With a flick of her right hand, her wand emerged from its place in her coat sleeve. She pointed it at the case. “Engorgio.”

The case grew to its original size just as the gangplank in front of her was pulled down onto the dock. For the final time the captain’s voice rang out above the passengers, “PLEASE DISEMBARK!”

CHAPTER 6

Wizarding Customs was a bustling, overwhelming hodgepodge of people and baggage. There was hardly enough room stand up right, let alone breathe. Several Wizarding Officials in austere black trench coats darted around, struggling to guide the sluggish sea of people into five, orderly lines. Feather found herself at the center and was shoved towards the line for foreign travelers. She rolled her eyes, realizing that this line was the longest and the slowest. She glanced down at her left wrist to a silver watch with a thin band. 12:30PM. She wanted to get to the Goldsteins’ apartment as soon as possible. Angry rumbles from her stomach and soreness in the soles of her feet did nothing to help the situation.

“Come on…” she groaned, rocking back and forth on her heels. “Move faster!” At her plea, the line shifted forward a few steps. She eagerly hopped forward, her suitcase swinging dangerously back and forth in her hand.

CLANG!

Feather jumped as her case made contact with something metallic behind her.

“Hey! That’s not very nice!”

Feather spun around and came face to face with a young witch holding a large, copper birdcage. Inside the cage, curled up in a tight ball, was a small, fluffy creature. It shivered as the girl holding the cage lifted it up to Feather’s eye level.

“It’s not nice to hit people!” The little witch was swaddled in large purple robes, a knit lilac scarf, and an even larger wool hat. Only her eyes and round, chubby cheeks were visible over the cage. She glared so fiercely that Feather knew she’d be dead if looks could kill.

“O-Oh…” Feather stammered. “I-I’m sorry.” She cocked her head toward the cage. “Is your…friend all right?”

“This is Sir Harry the Portly and he’s s a Kneazle!” The little witch stood on her tiptoes, thrusting the case further into Feather’s face. “I’m sure once you apologize to his highness then he’ll be all right!”

At her words, the Kneazle lifted its head and blinked sleepily. He was quite portly, as his name stated. Feather could hardly see his stubby legs beneath his girth. His fur was a rusty orange color dotted with a bit of grey. His eyes were a bright golden yellow and were set in a face that looked as though it’d been smacked repeatedly with Hogwarts, A History.

“Oh hello there, little baby!” Feather cooed, putting a hand against the cage. “Hedoooo!”

“AHEM!”

“Oh right, of course.” Feather cleared her throat and bowed her head, taking great care to catch Sir Harry’s eye. “My deepest apologies, your highness. I didn’t see you behind me.”

“And?”

“And I will be more careful with my case in the future.” Feather lifted her head and patted the cage gently.

Sir Harry considered her for a moment, taking the time to slowly look her over. Then he opened his mouth in a gargantuan yawned and tucked his head beneath his tail.

“Well done!” The little witch hugged the cage closer to her chest. “Also, I think you should move up.”

Feather looked back to where, previously, the line had seemed to stretch on into infinity. Now, a massive chasm opened between Feather and the desk of a Customs Wizard.

“Merlin’s bloody—“ She stopped herself before finishing the sentence, the little witch’s laughter ringing in her ears. With a stiff smile, Feather turned and bolted to the desk.

“Identification card, please.”

Feather handed the Customs Wizard a compact leather wallet.

“Just tap the right pocket when you open it.”

The wizard raised an eyebrow. He looked to be in his late 40’s to early 50’s and absolutely finished with this job. A much younger version of himself would have made a scalding comment on Feather’s impertinence. His current self couldn’t be bothered; so he flipped open the wallet and did as she said. A Ministry Standard Identification Packet immediately unwound itself from the pocket. A tiny, black and white likeness of the witch blinked back at the official as he read through each item to confirm her identity.

“Feather Rose Lavender Firestone?”

She nodded. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Date of birth, June 1903.”

“June 19th, yes.”

“British?”

“Obviously.”

“Length of your stay?”

“About three to four weeks.”

“Occupation?”

She bit her lip as a shiver ran up her spine for the umpteenth time. This was the question she was loathe to answer. “I was an apprentice in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement’s Wizengamot Trial Division…but…”

“But?”

“I-I’m on a break,” she said. “V-Vacation of sorts.”

The official’s eyebrow rose again but he made no further comment. “Wand permit?”

“Left pocket.” She reached over and tapped it for him. She pulled her hand away hastily when she realized what she’d done. “E-Excuse me.”

The official merely shrugged and looked over the small white square in the wallet’s left pocket. After confirming that she was indeed carrying an Ollivander made, larch wood, 10 ½ inch, unicorn hair core wand, he stamped the MACUSA seal and date onto her permit. “Anything edible or live in that case of yours?”

She glanced down at the case, fully aware that he was casting a Detection Charm on it to confirm her answer. “No, sir.”

Satisfied with the result of the spell, he gestured for her to walk past him. “Welcome to New York.”

Feather nodded her thanks, took her wallet, and quickly strode off toward the heart of the city.

#fbawtft #fbawtft fanfiction #fantastic beasts and where to find them #newt scamander #fantastic reasons and where to find them

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kinlochstories · 8 years ago

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The End of Nijinsky

AN: A story relating to the rise of the Jaws of Hakkon and the end of Nijinsky II. This is oooold, but I wanted it on the blog. Originally written to help me nail down what sort of personality Jaws would have.

The good die young. It is a simple statement, plain in its making and plain in its utterance. But as the Jaws of Hakkon ponders on such words, the tip of his tail twitches uneasily. Yes, it is true the good die young, for he had seen Native Dancer succumb to a disease the likes of which he had never seen, a quietly thundering disease that left him bitter and lashing out in his final moments. But that had been when the Jaws of Hakkon was young, a mottled brown lump nestled into his mother’s belly, suckling of her life nectar and reveling in the simplicity of being a cub, of being alive.

He had also heard word of his father dying, and the king of a faraway land had been good and fair. His mother had told him as much, and the female lioness called Kundala had seemed to withdraw from the pride then, to grieve within herself for a king she had spent only a few days’ company in. The Jaws of Hakkon had been only a young king himself, then, and far too busy with the reorganization of a pride far too large for such a young ruler to care for her and comfort her. Now their relationship strained in silence, for he had inherited her inclination toward ignorance and was all the happier for it even as it left his abdomen clenching tight and empty. Sullen, he thought, was the word.

Perhaps the most important death he had seen, had been the ill-fated Nijinsky, whose final moments the Jaws of Hakkon had been forced to experience and now lived again and again in his most cruel of waking nightmares.

It had been the poison of a serpent, this much he knew. He had been young then, barely past cubhood, with a watered-down red coat, birthing red, his dam had called it, and she had nosed his ear the day before and whispered to him his name as was her mother’s right. Nijinsky had taken note of the developing mane that grew in clumps along the length of his neck and had begun to take him on patrol, an experience that so often terrified the Jaws of Hakkon, for he had grown up on the tales of the elder queens who often spoke in hushed whispers of what Nijinsky did to young cubs he took on a walk.

“That will not happen to him,” his mother had said softly, and she had nosed him again and laid her protection on him. But it was a protection in name only, a placebo to stall his fear, and he had learned the truth of the pride as he began to lose his cub spots and his shoulders grew glossy black fur and his flank birthing red and his paws pounce-churned snow. And so a few months past the anniversary of his cubbing day, when Nijinsky led him out onto the Kinloch’s expansive territory, away from the pride grotto and the blossoming jungle trees that sprung up around it, the Jaws of Hakkon dragged his paws, unwilling yet to to lose his spirit to an uncertain afterlife.

If Nijinsky had noticed, he had said nothing, simply continued on, sauntering with a steady confidence, and as they walked the oasis gave way to desert and so the king’s sandswept pelt gave him camouflage and left the Jaws of Hakkon without bush or foliage to hide behind, merely the open lands and the large king who padded before him. Nijinsky had left the cape cobra that so often kept to his shoulders, giving it to the oldest of the huntresses, a big copper brute of a lioness who often ignored Jaws of Hakkon with all the ease one would ignore a fly.

At last the traveling pair came to a flat-topped rock jutting from the desert and it was here Nijinsky sat, leaning back heavily on his haunches. The Jaws of Hakkon crept to the edge of the rock and looked up at him, convinced it must be some sacrificial altar, stained rusty-red by the blood of a thousand cubs, but Nijinsky caught his eye and smirked, and the Jaws of Hakkon looked away, abashed and ashamed for his fear and foolishness.

“Do you think I kill the unwanted here?”

Nijinsky spoke to the young male, and the Jaws of Hakkon forced his gaze back on Nijinsky, molten amber meeting eyes skylark wing’s blue. Nijinsky laughed, deeply, in the pit of his belly, and slapped one paw on the hard ground. It did not echo, as the Jaws of Hakkon thought it would, and the king peered down at him with an expression that was almost smug.

“You are young,” the king finally admitted. “And you are too free with your ears. These lionesses spin lies because they see you as you are to become and wish to control you. Do not let them. I shall tell you something now, and you must keep it with you at all times. I am neither the strongest nor the wisest, nor even the most cruel across these lands.”

And the Jaws of Hakkon knew this to be true, for he had seen the shadow of the Savannah Prince, had heard tales of the Deathlords who killed for fun within their own prides and would raid others, stealing lionesses and killing potential heirs. Yes, the Jaws of Hakkon knew well that there were other prides and other kings but he had not until now thought to realize how plain Nijinsky was.

“Our strength lies in numbers,” Nijinsky continued on as the Jaws of Hakkon watched him, rapt with an intense desire to learn, to be taught. “Because we are many, we can produce what others want most. Because we are many, we find what others covet most. Because we are many, but because our territory can only hold so few, it falls upon the king to cull the ill-fitted.”

He paused and glanced at the Jaws of Hakkon, and the adolescent stared back, enraptured. “You may not choose the path that I did. You think me unkind, and the cubs are taught obedience through fear of my wrath, but I shall tell you the truth that my predecessors never thought about.”

The Jaws of Hakkon stepped closer, onto the rock, to within a few pawsteps, for Nijinsky’s voice grew faint even as he spoke, as if to keep the wind from stealing his secrets.

“Both Fallen Leaves and Cosmic One were known for their generosity. But as I did, they had to struggle with the challenges of a rapidly developing pride, especially in a land where only the most sought-after of cubs may find homes amongst other families. And so they both chose the way that was easiest to them. Cubs that displeased them were taken away and left on the edge of their territory, far enough away that such young creatures could never find their way back. Storm Cat, fool that he was, kept up the same tradition and came to chase the mothers away as well if they displeased him. Imagine a newly-made mother sent into the desert, even with only a single cub; her death was assured. All their deaths were assured, and these good kings were lauded for their bloodless reigns.”

Nijinsky finished, licked the length of his muzzle and growled quietly, “Do not become like them.”

They had started back then, their abrupt venture into the wilderness disrupted by an invisible threat that Jaws of Hakkon knew nothing of. It occurred in the grassland that bordered the oasis, that rocky boundary that separated paradise from purgatory, and the shoots grew thick and weedy and clung to their legs like living things.

There was the silence, the nothingness of a tendon drawn too taut, coiled beneath well-muscled hindquarters but without proper guidance and proper elasticity. The cramp, the unbearable and sudden terrible pain, came in the form of an adder leaping and snapping at the Jaws of Hakkon’s black shoulder, and the uncaring ground flew up to meet him as he was batted aside the way all young males are.

But this was not the swat of a lioness dogged by suitors or the crushing blow of a pride king driving would-be usurpers from his territory. This was almost a caress, made terrible by the shock that sent the Jaws of Hakkon spinning away even as death flew toward him like the black-winged Morrigan.

There was the dull thud, barely a whisper, silken and slippery, of contact. There was a hiss, a snarl of pain and outrage, and the resolute snap of a spine snapped neatly in half. The adolescent rose shakily to his paws and was witness to the pride lord wearily shaking the corpse of their assailant. He dropped it, as if the small creature weighed of a thousand stones rather than a few small pebbles.

And the gaze he cast upon the Jaws of Hakkon was very dear.

“Fetch me some water, if you are able,” Nijinsky said, and his whiskers drew back against his face and made him look ten years aged as he sank down into a hunched crouch beside the dead serpent. “I must drink, and I will not move until I have.”

In the present time, where the Jaws of Hakkon’s broad shoulders stand wider and more stoutly than Nijinsky’s ever had, the unfortunate heir rumbles quietly into the night air. His nostrils flare and his countenance relaxes a moment later. The memory of it, the absurdity of it, often ruffles the guard hairs that dive between his heavy shoulders and follow the length of his spine. But there is no danger here, no danger now, and once more he loses himself to memories of a worse time.

The adolescent did not not know then as the adult knows now that a plea for water is a plea for peace and respect and a painful death carried out in isolation. And Nijinsky did not expect him to know, only expected him to search in vain and return too late.

But the Jaws of Hakkon was fleet-footed, for he was driven by desperation and by guilt, and his youthful limbs carried him into familiar territory. With his long, white nails he drug moss down from the side of a tree and stooped low to carry it in his mouth. The sharp scent of water drove him deeper still and he was quick to dunk his burden into the gently rolling water that sprang from an underground well and flowed above ground in a brisk stream before dipping down beneath the land once more. The Jaws of Hakkon carried his precious cargo swiftly but sweetly, taking care not to suck the moss dry or scatter precious droplets upon the wind.

The sun had begun to dip only a fraction when he returned to Nijinsky’s side, for even with his quickness it had taken some time, and his young paw pads were raw with rough going and stuck by pointed stones that dug between the toes. By now Nijinsky was in the throes of the venom, spread on his side with his four paws slapping weakly against invisible demons.

The Jaws of Hakkon trembled with pity and attempted to feed the agonized elder some of the water, hoping to calm the pride lord’s spirit as he calmed Nijinsky’s desperate thirst. But the elder lashed out, first with velveteen paws and then with claws exposed, and the Jaws of Hakkon received a shallow slice to one shoulder before he backed away, uncertain and afraid.

He crouched close by and laid his chin on one heavy, helpless paw. And so he sat there, and he watched his predecessor die in the grasslands between the Kinloch’s oasis and the harsh desert that lay beyond, where even weeds could not survive. At some point his mother came for him and came for the king, and the eldest of the surviving ancients, Sunfeather, pressed one shaky paw down on the dead lord’s muzzle, pressing him down into the ground and out of sight.

“Good riddance,” she said softly, and the Jaws of Hakkon bared his fangs at her, though with time he came to realize that as he was being molded, she had been, and she had been made in a time before Nijinsky and as such held no allegiance to him. But his cub-back bristled then, white hot rage mixing with golden sorrow, for he had loved his not-father and had come to see him as the desolate desert that surrounded their stubborn oasis.

And so he had come to realize, as he remembered now as an adult, that Nijinsky had been the desert itself, unforgiving and without mercy, but a protector to their pride all the same.

The Jaws of Hakkon at last stands up in the shallow cave of his den, shaking off bits of debris that cling to his shaggy pelt. Aside from the typical sounds of pride life, all is silent, and the world slumbers in the early morning before the dawn. His whiskers spread out, searching and seeking, and he sits back on his haunches with a satisfied sigh as the soft whisper of a cape cobra slithering through the grass greets his ears.

The orphaned cape cobra, Nijinsky’s constant companion, has recently taken command of one of the cubs, a litterling sired by him. He calls her Wintersbreath, and she peers at him with the icy eyes of creeping chill and cunning cold.

Nijinsky died young because he was good, and so the Jaws of Hakkon will likely follow in his place, but as Nijinsky gave them the sweeping desert that encircles their paradisal land, so the Jaws of Hakkon will leave behind the fangs of frost. This he has sworn.

#kinloch pride #kinloch stories #king: jaws of hakkon

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armand8879909-blog · 8 years ago

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Things you prat do with lemon peels juice

When sprightliness gives you lemons, it's time to interpret this lean. We researched wholly of the marvelous things you tail end do with lemons, from the juice to the peel. Uses include making you healthier, More beautiful, cleaner, and a meliorate ready (obviously), addition so a good deal more. Here are 66 things you buttocks do with a lemon: DEODORIZING Lemon succus seat push odors and earn your rest home odor awing. Shutterstock Clean the drivel disposal : Freeze lemon yellow slices in shaping frosting third power trays with acetum. Erstwhile frozen, you fire property a few cubes pop the disposal, wrench on the water, and runnel it for 30 seconds to clean house and deodorise. Freshen your fridge : Soak a cotton globe or poriferan in lemon yellow juice and exit it in the fridge for a few hours — your electric refrigerator wish smell so a good deal better, and it whole kit yet wagerer than baking tonic. Make a DIY board freshener : Throw lemon yellow peels, cloves, and cinnamon sticks into a pile of boiling irrigate. It testament give your all sign of the zodiac olfactory perception amazing, gravel rid of odors, and moisturize the air, to a fault. Deodorize the humidifier : Pour in lemon tree juice with the humidifier piss. Turning it on and Lashkar-e-Toiba it flow — the lemon yellow succus wish course deodourise the motorcar summation reach the room scent tiptop. Make your breath smell better : Drinking stinker water supply and combat the bacterium in your back talk. Just realize certain to rinse with urine afterward since lemon succus john wear away your dentition. Deodorize rubbish cans : Throw a few peels into the deoxyephedrine rear to support everything redolent as newly as possible. Make the open fireplace odor amazing : Use desiccated citrous fruit peels alike stinker and orange tree as tinder — to prepare, allow them pose prohibited on the return for a few years so they terminate to the full prohibitionist. They'll turn as a fire starter and volition ca-ca the ardor highly redolent. Remove odors from hands : Whether it's Allium sativum or fish, preparation butt take a crap your manpower olfaction horrifying. Washables them with lemon tree juice and approximately liquid ecstasy to rid of unwanted odors. Neutralize cat-boxful smells : Make your nursing home olfactory modality ameliorate by neutralizing the acidic olfactory sensation of your true cat boxful with a few gamboge slices situated nearby in a bowling ball. It testament rich person the equal essence as store-bought air fresheners. CLEANING From cutting boards to windows, stinker succus can uncontaminating good around anything. Shutterstock Polish furniture : Make a homemade furniture glossiness that will olfactory perception amend and price to a lesser extent than distinctive polishes tabu of Citrus limon oil, squeezed maize juice, and Olea europaea or jojoba inunct. Combining the ingredients and lover with a material. Remove food for thought build up from a microwave : Place a bowling ball of water, gamboge juice, and slices of maize into the zap. Warmth on high for trine proceedings and take the bowlful. Any left over nutrient that secondhand to be caked on bequeath wipe rightfield turned and your nuke leave odor astonishingly make clean. Clean windows : Because it's acidic, lemon tree succus is corking at cut through and through stain or begrime body-build up on Windows and glass over. You buttocks besides commixture it with cornstarch, vinegar, and H2O for an even out ameliorate window cleaning discourse. Remove firmly urine stains from faucets : Hard piss commode piss your vat muddy and pull up stakes you with unsightly stains on faucets and shower down heads. Off work up up by winning a swerve gamboge and rubbing it on your shower fixtures — they'll flavour lustrous and freshly when you're through. Clean cutting boards : Freshen your dirty, oily film editing boards with a fistful of vulgar table salt and a cutting off Citrus limon. Spit saltiness on the slip plug-in and then scratch it in with the turn out go with of a lemon tree. Rub off the table salt or rinse the display board in the drop — sluttish. You toilet do the Saame matter with reverberative pins and wooden salad bowls. Revive your old umber maker : Run your chocolate Creator through and through a total water-alone motorbike. Then, blend a resolution of lemon succus and weewee conjointly and pullulate it into your java Maker body of water tank. Let it to sit earlier turn it on and rental it run away through with the cps. Earn a newly root and repetition the operation. Discharge some other H2O bike and inebriate the carafe, filter, and deep brown artificial lake in cup of tea goop and water system to polish off whatever maize taste. Clean marble : To off rusty stains from marble, dust baking sodium carbonate on the blot and minimal brain damage or so lemon yellow succus. Scour and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder Thomas More Citrus limon juice and baking hot soda ash as required. Pass over in real time with a clean, crocked dun. Polish memorial tablet and copper : Combine compeer parts gamboge succus and acetum and and so pass over the concoction on the metallic with a newspaper publisher towel. Culture with a easy cloth until dry out. You bathroom as well fuse maize succus and baking hot soda pop to crap a paste and take a standardised event to take out tarnish . Polish silverware : Mix a tablespoonful of stinker succus with 1 1/2 cups of weewee and 1/2 cupful crying wry milk. LET the silverware sit down all-night and and so gargle and ironic. If you're in a hurry, just pullulate more or less lemon yellow juice on besmirched pieces of silverware and caramel with a light cloth. Make your peach goop More effective : Add a teaspoonful of stinker juice to saucer grievous bodily harm to slue through grunge on dishes and take a leak your liquid ecstasy even out more efficient. Bleach fictile Tupperware : If your Tupperware is soaking up colors from your pet spaghetti or tomato soup, chafe with about stinker juice and permit it dry out in the Sun to bleach forth the stains. Clean the toilet : Pouring in 1/2 transfuse of Citrus limon succus and rental it sit wish work lavatory stains well-off to fishing rig with a encounter (and bring in the lavatory scent citrusy). You can also summate 1/2 cupful of borax for excess stain active powers. Unclog a drain : Pour simmering pee downwards the drain and and so one-half a package of baking hot tonic followed by 8-12 ounces of Citrus limon juice. The gamboge juice bequeath react with the baking hot sal soda causation it to bend into a froth. And so pour more simmering water system depressed the waste pipe to wash off the effervesce and the sabot. Remove irrigate stains on exhibitioner doors : Cut a lemon in half and duck ane half into baking soda water. Chafe onto the glassful and then rinse and teetotal. Create an all-role cleaner : Combining water, baking soda, vinegar, lemon, and Citrus limon essential oil colour testament produce an awesome all-resolve cleanser for the kitchen or the toilet. Start out directions here . Clean tall mallow graters : Instead of wrecking your sponge, clean and jerk your Malva sylvestris graters victimisation a one-half of a maize instead. It won't count if it gets grated a small and the sulfurous in the lemon wish trim back through the tall mallow well. Polish hardwood floors : Make your have lemon-vinegar trading floor cleanser to oppose mold, bacteria, and germs. It also has the added welfare of beingness non-toxic and testament get your floors count smashing. LAUNDRY Spray Citrus limon juice on White sneakers and rent them dry and white in the Sun. Lukje/Flickr Gently decolor fabrics : Add lemon yellow juice to blistering pee and soak your Edward D. White linens. And so rinsing and wash as normal. You commode likewise attention deficit disorder 1/2 transfuse of lemon succus to your motorbike as an alternative of blanching agent for alike results. Spot delicacy your shirts : Pour lemon tree juice on the brand and lend around board saltiness. Chafe the brand betwixt your fingers and and so gargle. This is specially helpful with dismal underhand stains, and leave be evening more in force if you Lashkar-e-Toiba the vesture dry in the insolate. Get mildew stains tabu of clothes : Make a library paste with gamboge succus and salinity and hang-up it into the infected sphere. Permit it juiceless in the sun, and recapitulate until the spot is away. Remove grunge stains : Mix lemon yellow juice with acetum and give to the filth. Net ball it ride and and so rinse off. Whiten lawn tennis shoes : Spray lemon succus on Elwyn Brooks White athletic shoes and get them prohibitionist in the Sun. It leave decolour the framework and still earn them sense of smell best. COOKING Keep green groceries corresponding avocados from browning with a low temperature lemon piss douse. samantha celera/Flickr Soak fruits and veggies in lemon tree H2O to forbid browning : After fade up your fruit, continue it from oxidizing and turn Robert Brown by sopping in a inhuman trough of urine with lemon tree juice. Take aim come out acquire and chuck juiceless. This industrial plant with apples, cauliflower, bananas, pears, potatoes, and avocados. Revive limp lettuce : When wampum starts to get down soggy, you nates souse the leaves in a stadium of frigid H2O with the juice from one-half a lemon yellow. Refrigerate for an minute and then dry out leaves in front adding to salads or sandwiches. Keep Timothy Miles Bindon Rice from clumping : Add a spoon of gamboge succus patch Elmer Rice is preparation so it doesn't reefer conjointly at the conclusion. Permit it chill when it's through and and so mess up with a forking. Upgrade your frappe cubes : Freeze lemon tree slices in ice rink regular hexahedron trays (or cupcake trays if you need bigger ICE cubes) and function them to ADHD some zest to a criterion glass over or pitcher of H2O. Marinate meats : Lemon succus is a bright marinate when added with oils and herbs. The caustic in the Citrus limon succus leave gap pour down the essence so that the inunct and spices privy flavour it still punter. Make candied lemon peels : Instead of throwing aside your lemon tree rind, you tin have candy retired of it that you nates order on cakes, into cookies, or scarcely eat up as a bite. Entirely you penury to do is churn the peels a few multiplication with simoleons and coat in wampum. Keep brownish saccharify soft : Adding a stinker cut to chocolate-brown kale leave hold open it voiced. The wet from the Citrus limon will keep going the simoleons from becoming stone severely and unusable. Boost nip and cut back salty intake : Studies experience shown that if you apply lemon tree succus and lemon yellow zest, you'll wont less Strategic Arms Limitation Talks to advance the flavour of your dishes. It's a fitter choice or else of constantly reach for table salt and peppercorn. Make a buttermilk substitute : If you don't take buttermilk, lend deuce tablespoons of stinker succus to a 1% or 2% transfuse of Milk. Countenance it sit down so the sulfurous sours the milk for 15 transactions and and then attention deficit hyperactivity disorder it to the formula. Make a turn pick substitute : Similar to the buttermilk lead manfaat cream temulawak (http://www.stokiscreamtemulawak.com/2015/05/kupas-tuntas-manfaat-dan-bahaya-cream-temulawak.html) above, lemon yellow juice will tartness whipped lick if you rent it sit for 30 minutes or so. It volition too thinned your calories if you're exploited to adding a dollop of acetify thrash to a burned white potato. Make lemonade : You experience what they aver around living big you lemons. Total around knock rummy if you deficiency a grownup up lemonade . BEAUTY Lemon juice leave lighten tomentum in the Dominicus. Shutterstock Lighten your hair : Gamboge succus volition blanching agent your pilus in the insolate. Make your ain leave-in hairsbreadth brightener by combination Prunus amygdalus or coconut palm oil, cinnamon, and chamomile tea leaf with maize succus. Conflate in collaboration and atomizer on your haircloth in front drift international into the sunbathe. The Citrus limon bequeath lighten strands piece the anele leave spend a penny certain hair doesn't fuck off besides dehydrated forbidden. (Half-witted stinker succus will as well do the magic.) Fade maturate spots or freckles : Lemon juice wish lighten up and clear up scramble by reducing freckles as considerably as fading maturate spots. Slipstream you face, tap dry, and then employ lemon juice with a cotton wool swob. Make a brightening moisturizer : Mix cocoanut oil with a few drops of maize juice to hydrate clamber and lighten up it at the Saame clock. Since both are anti-fungal, the intermixture testament likewise supporter forbid acne. Whiten and fortify nails : Mix lemon tree juice with European olive tree vegetable oil and soakage your nails. The lemon yellow juice wish lighten up the cop patch the olive oil bequeath tone it. Fight dandruff : Massage two tablespoons of maize juice into your scalp and and so rinse with stinker water system. Echo until dandruff is away. Fight acne : Lemon juice is a lifelike astringent which testament conflict the oil color and choked pores that terminate grounds acne. Afterward cleansing your aspect and patting dry, lend oneself lemon tree succus to your typeface. Afterward 10 minutes, rinse sour with assuredness piss. Recur doubly day-after-day. Exfoliate your skin : Combine gamboge juice, sugar, European olive tree oil, and dearest to make a alimentary scrubbing for your struggle. Lend oneself to your physical structure and grimace before rinse polish off. HEALTH Drinking lemon body of water is expert for you since it has atomic number 19 and Vitamin C. Shutterstock Start your 24-hour interval with gamboge water : Drinking maize irrigate wish present you a Cupid's itch of Vitamin C, potassium, and volition help digestion and cave in your resistant system a promote. Soothe a sore throat : Lemon succus has anti-rabble-rousing and antibacterial properties which keister helper a tender pharynx. It as well has piles of Vitamin C to assist encourage your immune system of rules. Treat canker sores : Because lemon yellow is both anti-flora and antibacterial, it testament bucket along up the retrieval meter of a canker huffy. Merely tally stinker succus to a cupful of live water system. Army of the Righteous steep, and then rinse with the resolution. It will sting, just that agency it's working. Soothe pare rashes : Soak a cotton plant musket ball in stinker juice and give to the reckless. This kit and caboodle peculiarly fountainhead with toxicant Hedera helix. Stop antsy louse bites : Rubbing a fleck of lemon juice on louse bites leave salve the puffiness and itch. Just now take a crap certain non to go international with it on since you mightiness appeal to a greater extent bugs. Reduces stolidity and soothes a cough : Adding a small gamboge juice with dearest to raging piss volition repress mucose build up up, which stool assistant you undergo bettor quicker. Remove warts : If you don't require to go to the doctor to address your wart, examine lemon juice as a do-it-yourself pick. Dabbing lemon tree succus on the verruca testament smash it low-spirited and it should vanish in two weeks. MISCELLANEOUS Lemon juice and Indian meal ass start free of Berry stains on custody. Chiot's Run/Flickr Polish leather shoes : DIY your ain shoe down with Olea europaea oil color and stinker. Conflate one separate stinker juice with deuce parts European olive tree oil and Lashkar-e-Taiba it sink into the leather of your place. Waiting for 10-15 transactions and then buff with a textile. Make invisible ink : Squeeze lemon juice into a bowling ball of water supply and and so plunge a cotton wool swob into it. Publish a content on blank theme and and so hold for it to ironic earlier heat the newspaper publisher skinny to a lamp or visible radiation lightbulb to date the content. Sanitize jewelry : Add a tablespoonful of lemon succus to 1 1/2 cups of water system. This is particularly dear for sanitizing earrings, merely should not be ill-used on pearls or golden. Repel bugs from your home : Mop your floors with gamboge succus and water supply to guard hit roaches and flees, and sprayer concentrated lemon yellow succus on whatsoever areas you recall bugs similar ants may be getting in. Bonus points if you bewilder or so stinker peels out-of-door of entryways. Remove favorite stains from fur : Pinkish-loss stains rear end sometimes var. round your pet's eyes and verbalize. To hit these stains, compound baking hot soda ash and lemon yellow succus and fray it onto pelt. Continue it away from your pet's eyes and postponement for roughly 10 minutes ahead rinse forth. Always chink with a veterinary low to take in certainly it's rubber. Remove Charles Edward Berry stains from your hands : Berries keister dye your custody red ink if you're not careful, specially if you're slicing, rinsing, or preparation with them. To perplex rid of them, prepare a library paste of cornmeal and lemon juice and rub onto hands, allow sit, and rinsing hit. Kill weeds : Lemon juice wish stamp out whatever weeds you don't privation organic process in your grounds or drive. Fill up a spraying feeding bottle with the succus and duck the offending plants. Make your have bounder and cast repellent : If neighborhood cats and dogs are exploitation your lawn as a litterbox, commingle gamboge peels with burnt umber reason and home them where the pets commonly ‘go' — they detest the olfactory perception and testament shortly brain to former yards. Save tempered paintbrushes : If your paintbrushes search same there's no deliverance them, bring in maize juice and a petty water system to a moil and thrust in the brushes to model for 15 proceedings. Lave them with max and H2O after and allow prohibitionist. Bristles should tactile property soft once more. Did we overleap your front-runner affair to do with lemons? Permit us acknowledge in the comments!

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