#wiz kids is... alright

[honeycherrydohnuts]

house of whacks is such a good treehouse segment, pierce brosnan is so fucking good and funny in it, the way he goes oh yum yum at seing marge in the bath always slays me 😭

good homer drawings 👍

[schemmentisimpasours]

You Belong With Me

Gif as always by @babytakeittothehead

Summary: This was a request by @schemmentisfavoritegirl (why is it not letting me tag you the hell).for Teen Reader that Melissa takes under her wing. Listen this one got away from me and the ending is a little muddled... but it's because I think I want to do a spin on the idea for a series. But I gotta wrap some series up first.

Pairing: MOM!Melissa Schemmenti/Daughter!Reader

Warnings: Bullying, Group Home, Small physical violence

Masterlist

2.4k words

PS: This is scheduled to post while I'm away on a mini vacation so if stuff is messed up I'm sorry! I'll fix it and post when I come home Tuesday. If I'm not stressed out and annoyed from this damn trip 😅

-

“We have 15 high school students from the National Honor Society who will be joining us for a week to help in classrooms for their community service hours. Whenever you are ready, come up and grab their file and then take them with you,” Ava announced at the quick lunch meeting she had called , pointing to the students lined up on the wall.

Melissa was the first in line and pointed at you. You were off, standing in the corner by yourself, tapping your fingers rapidly in time to the music in your AirPods, “I would like her.”

“You sure about that Schemmenti? Teacher said she is a real piece of work. This is apparently her last chance, or she faces suspension. ”

“I’m sure,” Melissa said, taking your file and walking up to you.

At her approach, you removed your earbud and placed it back into your jacket. The first thought that popped into Melissa’s head was that you were respectful, unlike the other teenagers still scrolling their phones as they were approached. You didn’t shy away from her daunting presence, but Melissa could see underneath all your hard exterior that you were scared. Like with one wrong move, everything would fall down around you.

“Come on, kid you are with me,” Melissa said, and you nodded wordlessly.

You followed behind her, head held down, until you entered her classroom. Your mind kept replaying the worst-case scenarios, trying to prepare yourself as much as you could. You had heard about Ms. Schemmenti the fiery redhead of Abbott Elementary and knew one foot out of line and you would be screwed. She pointed to where you could put your stuff, and you couldn’t help but smile at the outrageous math lesson that was on the whiteboard. Fractions of various foods like pizza, apples, and cookies were drawn with a steady hand.

“You like math?” Melissa asked as you continued to stare at the lesson.

“It’s my favorite,” You said with a smile, “The only thing in life that has one answer. No other possibilities or options. Just right or wrong.”

“Alright math wiz, you can help the kids in small groups when they get back from lunch,” Melissa said simply, and it was settled.

Every day you came in, you helped with the math lesson with the kids who struggled just a little more than others and needed the extra support. Melissa watched as you slowly opened up, revealing a little more about yourself every day. And with every fact she knew, Melissa found herself getting a little more attached to you. You worked hard when you were in her class. Taking any critique from her without flinching and doing everything you could to make sure the kids were keeping focused. You always came in with your head down, earphones turned loud, but as soon as you entered Melissa’s class, you lit up all smiles and sarcastic jokes.

Then, when the final bell rang, you would make sure you had completed everything Melissa had asked of you before running off to the bus, avoiding the other kids the best that you could. She knew by day three that you were the outsider of the group. Never talking to the other kids who arrived with you and often being pushed around like you weren’t there at all. It made Melissa’s blood boil for a reason that she couldn’t name. She had watched this type of behavior unfold in front of her before and, of course, had been bothered. But this was different. This was pure rage she felt building in her. She waited for the day that you would snap back and wasn’t surprised when it happened. She was just furious that it happened in front of her eagles.

You had been helping take the kids to the gym when another boy walked by blatantly running into you. Melissa knew this kid, the one who had been put in Morton’s classroom but who often walked around free range. He had been the one to pick on you the most. Always seeking you out just to torment you.

You had brushed off the shove like you usually did until he said, “Eat any good pussy today dyke?”

Melissa had gone to snap at him for the language used in front of the kid, but before she could, you had already punched him square in the face. His head snapped back, blood immediately running down his nose as he fell to the floor. You went to kick him, but Melissa wrapped her arms around you, pulling you away. You kicked against her trying to get back to him as she pulled you into an empty classroom.

“Stay here for a damn minute!” Melissa swore and you flinched at her anger.

You let tears of rage fall down your face as you waited for her return. Why did you have to snap? Why did you always snap? It had brought you nothing but pain and sorrow and you didn’t know how to control it.

“Come on kid,” Melissa said curtly and you followed obediently behind her.

The little eagles were gone and the boy absent. All that was left was Mr. Johnson cleaning up the blood. He gave you a small nod and mouthed the words good job. You nodded back with a small smile.

“Listen I'm really sorry Ms. Schemmenti. I didn't mean to take my shit out in front of the kids like that. I just got… upset,” You said defeatedly once back inside her class, “You heard the awful thing he said to me. It used to be a comment here and there but it is constant now. I just blacked out and next thing I knew I was fucking punching him”

“Ain’t your parents teach you how to behave around other kids, especially the young ones? You take the fight somewhere else if you gotta swing. Away from witnesses,” She asked, anger still riddled in her voice, “And watch your language in my room.”

You shrugged, looking down at the floor. " I haven't seen them since I was ten. I have been in and out of group homes since then. Six of them due to my aggressive behavior. But in my defense I had to. When you are the only queer kid shi…stuff gets bad quick. All that has taught me is to fight first and ask questions later. It’s the only way to survive.”

Melissa was stunned into silence as you played with the sleeve of your jacket. Her lack of response made your anxiety rise. You gathered your stuff, not looking at her, “Look you don’t have to sign the paper. I'll go back to my teacher and tell him it’s not a good fit. Ava can write me up and call home. It will be fine don't worry. I made this mess. ”

Melissa knew that it would have been the end for you there. If your teacher found out you had lost another volunteer placement because of physical violence again, you would have been suspended. Your grades were already hanging in the balance as is, and this teacher already believed that you couldn’t and wouldn’t succeed. She had read most of your file when Ava said that you were the one to watch, but in it, there had been no mention of the group homes or the bullying that came with it. And by the sounds of it with one phone call you could be ripped from there too.The world was constantly trying to break you down, and the dark circles under your eyes told her that you were losing the fight.

“Wait,” Melissa called out to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Ava is already handling the boy and you ain’t getting in trouble. She watched what happened and we all vouched for you.”

“You didn’t have to,” you whispered.

“Of course I had to. I have been watching him bully you all week. It had to stop,” Melissa sighed, “And listen mistakes happen and I ain't gonna let you off easy but I'm not abandoning you either kid. You belong here. You belong with me.”

Tears filled in your eyes as you looked up at her, “You really mean it?”

Melissa wiped away the tears from your cheeks, “Of course I do. You remind me a lot of myself at your age. Angry at the world and thinking the only way through was to go down swinging. But hun, you keep swinging, you are going to hurt more than just the bad people. You gonna push away all the good ones too.”

“I don't want to be like this anymore,” you sobbed and Melissa hugged you close to her.

“I know,” She soothed kissing your head, “And you don’t have to be. I got you, we can work through it together.”

She let you stay there for a couple of minutes, pressed against her, clinging tightly, like she might disappear before she gave you one final squeeze. She wiped away the remaining tears from your face, kissing your forehead lightly, “You got the tears out, now it’s time to work on fixing what you broke. Starting with our little eagles. You gotta go apologize for scaring them.”

Which is exactly what you did when they returned from the gym. You apologized for scaring them, but not for defending yourself. Melissa had made it clear to the class that what was said to you was not nice and that the older boy was in more trouble than you were. It felt nice to have someone stand up for you for once. And when the end of the day came and the bus was there to take you back to your group home, you ran into Melissa’s arms terrified to let go and return back to that world. Her coworkers stared as Melissa clung to you just as fiercely before giving you a kiss on the head and telling you to stay safe.

That night, you were sprawled out on your bed, working on a project for school, doing your best to focus through the typical chaos, when your caseworker told you it was time to pack your things. Your single duffle bag felt like it was full of bricks as you wondered where they were shipping you off to and when you would see Melissa next, if ever again. The fear pounded in your heart all the way up to the driveway of a house that had a huge Italian hanging from the porch. Your face twisted in confusion until you saw her. Waiting for you at the top stair was Melissa a broad grin across her face.

Before the car came to a full stop you were out the door and running up the stairs. She opened her arms and you barreled into her. She laughed holding you close to her, “Welcome home baby girl.”

That night Melissa taught you how to make spaghetti. It was simple but was just a glimpse of the many meals she would teach you. When the plates were cleaned and the table wiped down she sat down and looked through your school portal. Glasses perched on the edge of her nose she ran through your missing assignments and what teachers you had. By the end of the week with many baked zitis involved your missing assignments were turned in and your grades up. The National Honor Society Teacher who had bullied and belittled you was fired and ran out of town. You would never ask how but knew Melissa was involved when a gleam in her eye showed as you told her excitedly of the teacher who replaced him. The boy who had bullied you had gotten expelled for a different incident that week as well and you never heard from him again. You finished the year with honors and enrolled in advanced courses for your junior year.

Your room got filled with posters of celebrities and books that were crammed in every free space. Twinkle lights hung from the ceiling and you hung pictures of you and Melissa on every wall. Your bed was covered in soft blankets and squishmallows you used as pillows. When your friends were over Melissa would sit in the living room listening to the giggles and loud music glad that you were comfortable and safe in her home. When it was just you and Melissa couldn't sleep at night she would stand in your doorway for just a moment to confirm that this wasn't all some elaborate dream. That you were hers just as much as she was yours.

The Thursday before Mother’s Day when you were 17 your adoption was finalized and you became an official Schemmenti. You had been calling Melissa Mom since your first month in her home but something about that mother’s day felt different. A breath released that Melissa didn't even know she held when she remembered you were a Schemmenti. Bound not by blood but by love and devotion to stay no matter what. A huge party was thrown in honor of the adoption and Janine and Jacob could be heard down the street screaming in excitement when they were named your godparents. You gave Melissa numerous gifts that day but her favorite one was something that you had made in art class. A collage of every single photo you had taken with her creating a heart around the quote: I love you Mom. Today, Tomorrow, Always. She had sobbed not caring that all of her coworkers were watching and hugged you so tight you lost your breath for a second.

During your senior year you were selected to participate in a year long mentorship program where you taught alongside a teacher for the last couple hours of the day. You worked alongside Baraba who wrote you a glowing recommendation for University of Pennsylvania’s teaching program. Which you were accepted to with a full ride scholarship and your teaching internship was completed with Barbara. Who when you graduated slipped into retirement leaving you her spot at Abbott Elementary were you worked alongside Melissa for another four years.

When you brought home the woman you would one day marry Melissa had loved her instantly. She walked you down the aisle in tears giving the best speech of the night. She was there every step of your pregnancy and welcomed her granddaughter with a smile and a kiss. Retiring to become the best Nonna she could be transforming your old room into a space her granddaughter could play and stay every weekend.

As you stood watching your daughter sleep in her bed surrounded by the stuffed animals Melissa bought so many years ago she came up beside you and hugged you close, “Told you that you belong with me.”

-

@yoyo-w

@cupldscntrl

@milfslvr

@liliapleasesteponme

@milfjuulpod

@schemmentisfavoritegirl

[zwolfgames]

Goblin camp overtake (drabble) Platonic!Yandere!BG3 x Teen!Reader

(Hopefully it's a bit accurate because ive only played the story twice for now so i dunno all the posibilities.)

Summary: Teen!reader and the squad go take defeat the goblins. Therefore meeting Halsin, and Minthara again.

Warnings: Death (obv), mentions of gore, Goblins

Other related BG3 by me: Intro, Gith creché , The list

The sun was shining, the flowers in the forest were blooming... On days like this, kids like you had been tasked with commuting genocide on the local goblins.

Not that you really cared. They were little shitheads... Stole your laundry once back when you lived with your mom... before all this...

But getting closer to this alleged camp wasn't making you any more at ease. You could already imagine the stench of those sweaty creatures when you have to inevitably walk into that camp. Which you've heard is actually just an old temple.

You've noticed over time that people in your little group have gotten... well, friendlier. For example: Lae'zel was no longer throwing you glares, Shadowheart remembered your name, Astarion has indoctrinated you into his schemes... Yea, the three most hostile people had warmed up to you.

And the other have just... always been quite nice.

Well, Wyll still didn't seem to approve of you, a minor, coming along. But he didn't really have a choice as the others were not allowing him to take you back to the Emerald Grove. Guess they really do find you too funny to lose then.

"Ugh, the stench is disgusting." Karlach waves the air under her nose away.

"It is the smell of a goblin camp. What were you expecting? Tchk. And I myself find this odor quite thrilling. It promises of a good fight." Lae'zel slightly smirks. Clawed hands flexing around the handle of her greatsword.

"Of course you do... Tough the smell of blood has never scared me away." Astarion, in turn, chuckles in that weird posh way. You raise a brow.

"So you're sure you're not a vampire?" You question sarcastically. The pale elf gasps in mock offense.

"Of course not. I merely like the smell." He huffs. Right, so that time you saw him hunt down a boar must have been make belief.

The rest of the party didn't comment anymore as you made your way to the camp.

Gale had thrown his arm around your shoulder to keep you at the back. He excused that as 'magic users stay behind so they can asses the battlefield'. But he probably just didn't want to accidently get Lae'zels sword through his back.

This mission to save some druid calmed Halsin was looking like a total hassle. But hey, why not do side quests while the worm in your head is ready to kill you?

Whatever person lives in your head didn't take kindly to your remark as you heard the voice say they'd protect you.

Right, bullshit. You're just developing pshycosis. A hundred percent that.

"Y/N. If they target you, I want you to run, alright?" Wyll speaks calmly.

"Well, I mean, not that I don't want to but were kind of in this together -" You start nonchalantly.

"Don't listen to the human. It is unhonerable to run from a fight." Lae'zel scolds like a lecturing general.

Well, do you really care about your honor? It's not like you're trying to capture the Avatar here-

"Yea yea, got it, boss." You sigh. The slight stress makes its way to your head. It's just some goblins, right? Nothing a good magic missile can't solve... Right?

You take back your words quite quickly when Astarion smooth talks his way past the outside security to let your group pass. There's like... at least fifty goblins here!

You feel an arm slitter around your shoulders. Looking up, you can see Lae'zels warry face.

She's gripping that greatsword quite harshly, a bit scared, maybe? Tough you doubt it, it's Lae'zel..

You ignore the stink eyes these little creatures are throwing you and walk along with your group.

"My, what a festive place, no? Look, they even have booze." Astarion muses with his typical smug grin.

"We're not here to party." Gale groans. The wizard stares at the goblins in distaste. You note that everyone is on edge

A goblin child sticks her tingue out at you, so you do the same, blowing raspberries for good meassure. This action earns you a dissaproving look by Wyll.

"So where's this druid? I don't want to be here any longer then needed." Shadowheart complains with a little wave infront of her nose to showcase that she thinks this place stinks.. Wich it does.

"Let's ask!" Karlach offers her idea.

"You've got to be the most optimistic person I've met and we have a literal child in the group." Gale groans.

"You can't miss any of the chances you take." Karlach shrugs.

"Let's just gut all of them. I'm sure we can search for the druid in peace then." Astarion smirks.

"For once, I agree with the pale one." Lae'zel sneers.

You watch your group bicker a bit longer as you wander out of the grip you had been put in. Walking around the goblin camp instead.

Mhh, a clear booze tub. They're drunk. Quite ideal.

You scan around the area, a certain tall woman catches your eye, seeing as she isn't a goblin.

Wait a minute, you've met her before! She almost killed you on the beach when the Nautiloid crashed!

The nerve of that woman, she doesn't deserve the same hairstyle as your mother.

Astarion had snuk out of the argument your group of idiots was having right in the middle of the goblin camp. He stuck himself to your side, observing along with you.

"You seem... focussed. You have an idea, do you not?" The pale elf asks smoothly.

"An inkling. They're drinking, and Nettie gave us wyvern poison... I mean...?" You let your gaze travel to the booze tub. Astarions red eyed orbs follow along. You can see a sharp toothed grin spread across his face.

"I just know we're going to be great friends, Y/N.." He smirks and puts a cold hand on your shoulder.

You just smile in satisfaction that your plan is apparently good. Before you know it, Astarions snatched the poison out of Shadowhearts pocket. You watch the man go invisible to presumably go dunk the booze in poison. Or maybe he's gonna drink it... But he never seemed suicidal... So it should be fine.

"Y/N, c'mon, we're going into the temple, the druid should be there." Karlach waves you over.

You nod and join the group again. Getting tucked back under someone's shoulder.

The first leader of the Goblins you had met was a priestess. And oh boy, defenitly not your favourite... She wanted to brand you! Is she nuts!?

So anyways, Lae'zel chopped her head off... Uh... props to Wyll for covering your eyes.

Then there was Dror Ragzlin. Scary guy that one. Almost twice your size, mean face and doing necromancy. Yikes.

Unfortunatly, you did have to help in this fight. There were goblins storming in through the door and well just that beast of an orc.

So you you just started blasting spells at the incoming goblins. Fireball and Ice Knife were a nice combo, no? Make em slip and then steam the ice and do damage? Sounds logical to you. Was anyone else smelling barbeque or just you?

When that got taken care of, Karlach strapped a helmet to your head and lead you back to the group.

The last leader was the same woman that had tried to kill you. Minthara, apparently. You've never seen a real drow, so this was cool. Except for the part where she tried to kill all of you. That wasn't that cool...

Just before she was supposed to just die, Lae'zel had accidently hit one of the wooden beams in the room. The ceiling collapsed right infront of you.

Well, maybe she's dead? Atleast it's not your problem anymore?

After all the goblins inside had straight up been slayed, Astarion joined the group once more, seeming quite pleased with himself.

"Where have you been?" Gale asks sternly. Raising an eyebrow in suspiscion. It's still quite annoying that nobody really trusts anyone here..

"Let's just say the situation outside is taken care off." Astarion boasts proudly.

"Really? And you did that, alone?" Shadowheart states in a disbelieving tone. Gods forbid the fancy man does anything impressive.

"Yes! Is that so hard to believe?" Astarion scoffs and crosses his arms.

"Very." Shadowheart argues back.

"I'll believe it when I see it." Lae'zel adds.

Wyll and Karlach just exchange glances. Well you know that he did it. So there's no need for your input-

"Ahhh!" You eep in fear as a large man had appeared behind you. Wich is very scary considering every one in this temple was supposed to be dead.

"Calm down little cub, I mean no harm." The large man smiles reasuringly.

You stagger back to Lae'zels side. This man... Elf ears.. Brown hair. Ah, druid attire? Halsin, perhaps?

"And who are you?" Shadowheart asks for all of you.

"Halsin. You were sent here to come chack on me, or are you just lost adventurers?" Halsin asks with that same smile.

"Well, we found him. Back to the grove-" Gale starts walking off before Karlach grabs the rim of his robes to keep him in the group.

"We did come here for you. Have the goblins hurt you?" Wyll asks calmly. Halsin shakes his head.

"Nothing I can't handle. Why the cub?" Halsin tilts his head at you.

"They're actually an immortal being in the form of a child. Wiser then any of us." Astarion makes up.

Halsin raises a brow. Clearly not believing that.

"Right. But like your little wizard said, we should get back. I am sure the grove has missed me." Halsin hums.

"Don't think so, they're closing it off frol the outside world." You mention calmly.

"What." Halsin stops smiling. You just shrug, that's all you picked up from it.

Halsin frowns and starts walking out. What determination.

Your group eventually exits the dead silent temple after having taken any valuables. Can't leave without some loot, who knows if you're getting paid!

As you walk out the large door, the death Astarion had caused is quite visible, dead goblins everywhere. R.I.P, you won't be missed.

Now that that's taken care of, who knows what adventures await you thanks to this stupid worm in your brain!

Not the best, but it's something. Yan feelings gotta develop trough the story but I'm not fully there yet.

[mirikitakato]

[Translation] Skits of "Our magical party wiz you" and the staged reading ""A Mixer After the Mission"

Good day, everyone! I have translated the skits and the staged reading from the “Our magical party wiz you!” (Mahoawa) event on January 28-29th, 2024. It took me a while, and this is not the full translation for the 2-hour show. There are also Q&A activities involving seiyuus and some additional skits with characters. However, I translated all the skits featuring CaiOwe and the 20-minute main skit "A Mixer After the Mission" written by the devil Tsushimi Bunta!

Please feel free to share the link to the translation or screencap it to react.

Characters: Oz, Arthur, Mithra, Rutile, Cain, Owen, Snow

(The Day’s skit)

Owen: Hey, are you kidding me?

Mithra: That's my line.

Cain: Hey there, you two. Let's not start off on such a tense note, alright? What's going on?

Mithra: The thing I just had for lunch is called Napolitan pasta. This guy has more bacon in his bowl than mine, not fair at all.

Cain: More bacon? How nice!

Owen: That's not nice, comparing to that pudding he has. Mithra's pudding is bigger than mine.

Mithra: Obviously, because I eat faster than you.

Owen: You were just eating everything randomly, weren't you? Ah, I feel sorry for that pudding, being eaten by someone like you.

Mithra: So you're not giving up? How unsightly.

Owen: Hah? You want to die?

Mithra: Just what I want.

Owen: Cuore Memini–

Mithra: Athrim—

Cain: Wait, hold on!! Let's not start a fight out of nowhere! You'll wreck the place.

Rutile: Ah, how about this? Since we're in a theater, why not have a competition fitting this place?

Mithra: A competition fitting this place?

Rutile: Let's have the spirits of this land as judges. Since they love singing and art, we could have a poetry competition. What do you think, dear spirits? (The audience applauds)

Rutile: Thank you.

Mithra: Well, okay. I'm the strongest at writing poems.

Owen: I won't go along with your ridiculousness. Such a stupid game.

Mithra: Oh? Is it because you don’t have confidence?

Owen: Aren't you just led by the nose?

Cain: Please don't start a new round of quarrels, guys. Owen, if you're not interested…

Owen: Fine, I'll participate. With Mithra's brain, my victory is assured.

Sir Knight, let's start quickly *kick*

Cain: Ouch! Why did you suddenly kick me?!

The theme is “Winter”. Owen, you first!

Owen: Eh? Me?

Cain: 321, GO!

Owen: The…the winter sun…on top of the sky…turns into…a frozen white jade…

Rutile: Wow, what a beautiful imagery!

Owen: On the snow field…there's…a fluffy dog…but his fur sheds…and vanishes with the wind…

Cain: Ahhh, he was so fluffy, though.

Mithra: That's it? Well, no surprise that you're at this level

Rutile: But the first part was great! I couldn't have come up with “frozen sun”!

Cain: I also love fluffy dogs, they’re like winter. When you see your dog getting shaggy, you know winter's here. It's a shame his fur fell out.

Owen: Oh, you like that? Then why don't I turn you into a big hairless dog and throw you into an extremely cold place where it snows all the time?

Cain: Why do you come up with words to insult me so easily?!

Cain: Next theme is “Northern Wizards”. 321, GO!

Mithra: On the snow field…there is a fluffy dog.

Owen: Wait, don't copy me.

Cain: It’s even the same dog.

Mithra: Standing there is a creature more majestic than a dog, a huge crocodile... and the strongest and most fearsome, me...

Mithra: Hmmm, sounds weird. Rutile, you are up.

Rutile: Huh!? Uh...if you step on the shadow...

Owen: Hey hey, it'd be cheating to ask others for help, wouldn't it? Rutile, don't say more.

Rutile: I'm...I'm sorry. I can't resist answering when someone asks me...

Mithra: Huh? Is there a rule against asking others?

Cain: Well...no, there isn't. Sorry, I forgot to set rules. But I trust the spirits (audience) will judge fairly. Let's hear Rutile's first.

Rutile: Yes! Owen's expression was particularly poetic, and Mithra was great at involving others.

Cain: I see. Both had unique elements in their poems. What do the spirits think?

(The audience applauds)

Cain: I see. Congratulations, Owen and Mithra, you share the victory!

Rutile: Congratulations!

Mithra: Winning was too easy. Poetry seems like child's play.

Owen: You just won without a fight. Let's start over.

Cain: The spirits seem pleased, making the atmosphere livelier and more energetic here.

Owen: That means…

Mithra: Then...

Owen/Mithra: *fighting each other* Cuore Memini/Arthim!

(The Night’s skit)

Snow: You're back too. Just walking around, not bothering anyone and not killing anyone?

Owen: You think I'm Mithra? I don't do those things. *sound of chewing*

Cain: What are you eating?

Owen: Dango from a nearby stall. It's right over there, by the red gate.

Snow: You're right, it smells sweet and delicious.

Cain: I noticed it too when I passed by earlier today. But I was so full that I couldn't eat anymore, so I didn't buy any.

Owen: Because you had too much Napolitan pasta, didn’t you? What a glutton, ordering such a large portion.

Cain: I couldn't help it! It was so delicious. After that, I walked around the streets with Rutile for a long time and started feeling hungry again.

Hey, give me one.

Owen: The song of hot dango.

Cain: What?

Owen: If you want one, sing. This is a payback for making me do weird things during the day.

Cain: Are you still holding a grudge over that...? Eh…Impromptu singing? I've never done that without a drink...

Snow: How about this? They also sell hot drinks near the red gate. It's slightly sweet and tastes a bit like wine, but it's actually non-alcoholic.

Cain: Thanks. Ohhh, it smells good. Now this can set the mood I need...

Owen: Cuore Morito

Cain: Ugh!?

Snow: Owen!? What did you--

Cain: ....He he he...there...is a pile of hot dango...~

Snow: Cain!?

Cain: Dango dango~~ Taran taran tan tan~

Owen: He's started drunken dancing and singing now. How clumsy and amusing.

Snow: Dear! Did you cast a spell on Cain? That kid took just a sip and he's already drunk.

Cain: Ha, ha ha...Let's take off our clothes to dance and sing, everyone...

Owen: Do it, do it~

Snow: Wah!!! Wait--! Noscomnia!

Cain: What just happened?

Owen: What, we were just getting to the good part.

Snow: Phew, that was close. Are you okay, dear? You were only dancing and singing, don’t worry.

Cain: I can’t remember…..But then that means I fulfilled Owen’s request?

Owen: Well, you could say that. Here, I'll give you a dango, catch it. *throw it away*

Cain: Ah! Hey, don’t just toss dango around like that!

The staged reading "A Mixer After the Mission" written by Tsushimi Bunta

Arthur: Look, Lord Oz, there are fireworks lighting up the sunset sky.

Oz: Indeed.

Rutile: It seems people are setting off fireworks to celebrate the resolution of the recent event. How beautiful.

Cain: Strange occurrences took place at Granvelle Castle. Although very dangerous and tricky, fortunately, we managed to solve them successfully.

Snow: That's right, the people on the street are also very happy. Beautiful music is coming from the square, it feels delightful.

Oz: Indeed.

Snow: Ah, dear Oz, the young wizards are all very happy now. You should sometimes respond to them with something more enthusiastic, like "Wow! That's fantastic!"

Arthur: Just watching the fireworks with Lord Oz makes me happy enough. And is this music the same as the one played during the inauguration ceremony?

Cain: Yes, the sound of fireworks, the music from that day, and the laughter of the people. Just hearing them makes me feel like I've been transported back to the day of the inauguration ceremony.

Arthur: The sages and their wizards gathered on the terrace of Granville Castle and waved many times to the people.

Rutile: After that, a lot of things really happened. Time has really flown by since then. Being able to become so close to Lord Arthur, Uncle Mithra, and others is like a dream.

Speaking of which, where are Uncle Mithra and Mr. Owen?

Cain: Hmm? Oh, I don't see them either. Weird, they were with us just a moment ago.

Snow: Maybe they went to confirm "The Legendary Wind Passage"?

Arthur: What is "The Legendary Wind Passage"?

Snow: The land in this area is blessed by the wind spirit, thus strong winds blow sometimes. The most famous one is a passage where there are always violent storms. It is said that only the strongest wizard can pass through this legendary passage.

Arthur: So it’s the strongest passage?

Snow: Exactly, the strongest passage, literally as the words imply.

Cain: I'm pretty sure those two are competing to see who can fly through that passage faster.

Rutile: I am very confident in my broom-flying skills and would like to participate too...

Mithra: Arhtim

Arthur: They're back. Welcome back, Mr. Mithra, Mr. Owen.

Mithra: We're back.

Owen: Ugh, that was the worst.

Mithra: Oz, it is said that only the strongest wizard can pass through the wind passage - the strongest path, and I have conquered it. In other words, I'm the strongest. Your strongest throne has been taken away by me. How about that? Don't you want to say something?

Oz: Wow, that's fantastic.

Mithra: Huh?

Oz: Wow, that's fantastic.

Mithra: What's that?

Oz: Wow, that's—

Mithra: Shut up, you're noisy.

Arthur: Lord Oz, your level of agreement is truly superb.

Speaking of celebration, it seems that Lord Oz, Mr. Mithra, and Mr. Owen have never participated in a mixer.

Oz: Mixer?

Arthur: A mixer is to celebrate an encounter. If possible, how about holding one now? I feel a bit regretful not being able to join the social gathering with Lord Oz and others.

I also want to plan a mixer for 22 people including the Sage.

But now that we are here, how about practicing this bonding event in advance?

Mithra: Interesting, I want to join this thing called a mixer or something

Arthur: Thank you, Mr. Mithra.

How about Lord Oz?

Oz: Yes.

Arthur: Thank you so much!

How about Owen?

Owen: I won't. It's boring.

Cain: Don't say that.

If we sit face to face in a social gathering, we can understand each other better and maybe become closer.

Owen: When did I say I want to get along with you?

Cain: I want to get along well with you.

Owen: I don't want to. As if I would go.

Cain: Uhmm okay, that's good then! I actually don't want to get along with you either, but I have to do this because my lord is here. Lucky for me that you refused me first.

Owen: Oh? So you actually don't want to get along with me?

Cain: Yeah, why should I want to get along with you? You took my eyeball.

Owen: Ha ha, what a pitiful Sir Knight.

Owen: Then I will reluctantly join this mixer. Let's get close to each other, shall we?

Cain: Is that so?! Thank you, Owen!

Owen: Huh?

Cain: That's good for you, Arthur.

Owen: What does this mean?

Cain: Everyone, let's join in the fun!

Owen: Hey? Hey!

Arthur: I see!

Speaking of which, the Sage told me once…in mixer, people are supposed to have some special events.

Rutile: Special events?

Mithra: No matter what those are, it’s not a problem for me

Arthur: I don't know the specific details. Let's try to find out.

Rutile: I think I have an idea! (Rutile starts singing)

Rutile: Why do you want to drink? Why do you want to drink? Because you want to drink, so you drink!

(T/n: He is singing a parody of なんで持ってんの, a japanese drinking song)

Arthur: *confused voice* W-what song is that?

Rutile: This is the kind of song everyone sings at the beginning of a mixer.

Cain: Somehow, it feels like I’ve heard it somewhere before.

Rutile: Really? I created this song, though.

Cain: Really? But it sounds a bit familiar… Anyway, since we have songs, there should also be dances, right? Like dancing in pairs at a ball.

Arthur: That sounds appropriate! Perfect for social occasions to celebrate new encounters.

Owen: So how about this?

Owen: We play a game where one person acts as the king and the rest are retainers who follow the king's orders.

Cain: This game might not be suitable for this event, right?

Owen: …it isn’t?

Cain: It could make the atmosphere tense. It doesn’t seem like a social game.

Rutile: Although it sounds fun, I don’t think it's suitable for social gatherings.

Owen:…Hmmm, whatever.

Arthur: So, what dishes do you think should be served at the party?

Rutile: Dishes, huh? If there’s a grand feast at the mixer, the atmosphere will be livelier.

Cain: You must be hungry, Rutile. How about roasting a whole pig or something?

Arthur: Sounds like the mixer will be quite lively.

Rutile: It does sound that way! A roasted whole pig would be nice at a mixer.

Owen: Hey, how about this?

Mixing a hot sauce puff into a plate of sweet puffs filled with thick cream.

Cain: Absolutely not. That's a terrible idea.

Owen: Why?

Cain: Well, it's just not feasible. People who eat the hot sauce puff would be in for a bad time. This is meant to be a rare opportunity to meet new friends, and doing this would definitely make the atmosphere tense.

Owen: …Wouldn’t that make everything surprisingly lively though?

Cain: No, absolutely not. This would make it difficult to warm up the atmosphere. Think about it carefully— putting hot sauce in the puff for people to eat. It's going to be very tense, I'm telling you.

Rutile: I would certainly feel nervous…

Owen: Hmmm, whatever.

Snow: Ah, now I remember!

Rutile: What is it, Lord Snow?

Snow: Dear Sage mentioned a "first impression" game that seems to be held at the mixer.

Rutile: A game of first impressions?

Snow: Yes, for example, a question like "Who looks the gentlest here, or the richest person," and then you point to someone intuitively.

Snow: I hope everyone points to me when being asked "Who is the cutest person here?"

Oz: He just blurts out his wish.

Mithra: I definitely don't think you're the cutest person. If you asked who the scariest person is, I'd probably point to you.

Snow: I'm not scary. I'm obviously very cute.

Rutile: Very cute, indeed. But since we’ve met before, it might be difficult to judge as if it were the first time.

Snow: No worries. If it's just for a short time, I can erase your memory!

Mithra: Hah?

Owen: Erase memory?

Snow: Noscomnia.

Snow: Great, now we can play the first impression game!

Snow: Okay, after preparing, let’s point out who the cutest person here is.

Arthur: What just happened?

Mithra: What kind of terrifying magic was just used?

Owen: Step any closer, and I'll kill you.

Owen: Cuore-- Mithra: Arthi-- Oz: Voz--

Snow: Wait, wait, don't be so excited yet

Mithra: What do you mean?

Owen: Who are you?

Oz: Voz–

Snow: I said wait! Now everyone is playing the First Impression game.

Rutile: First Impression game?

Snow: Yes, it is to determine who the cutest person here is in the first impression.

Cain: Hold on a minute, I don't remember anything, not even you or myself.

Snow: Well, don't worry about that.

Cain: Don't worry?!

Snow: Yeah, don't stress about it, it's no big deal.

Cain: Is it really okay?

…Well, I suppose it is!

Rutile: Great, I don’t remember anything either, so I feel relieved to hear you say that.

Mithra: What's going on? That boy's complete lack of any sense of crisis is making me irrationally angry. My stomach seems to be hurting too.

Rutile: Oops, brother over there, do you have a stomachache?

Drink some hot potion to soothe your stomach, it'll help. I'll warm it up for you now.

Ah, but... T/n: Usually Rutile calls Mithra "Oji-san," but he's addressing Mithra as "Onii-san" now.

Mithra: What's the matter?

Rutile: This potion is very bitter. Brother, can you handle it? Will it be difficult for you?

Mithra: Not a problem. If need be, I can even eat grass.

Rutile: Ha ha, you're quite the wild one.

My first impression of you, brother, is that you're a very wild person.

Mithra: Ah, thank you.

My first impression of you is that of a careless person.

Snow: Look like someone knows how to play the game already!

Arthur: Hm? If you look closely, you two have the same eye color.

Cain: Ah, you are talking about me?

Owen: Me?

Rutile: That's right. Maybe you guys are brothers?

Ah, I feel like I have a brother too.

Cain: Do I have a brother?

*look at Owen* Can I call you big bro then?

Owen: What a joke. First of all, how could I have a brother with such weak magic power?

Besides, just from the appearance point of view, my hair color is similar to that guy’s.

Arthur: Are you talking about me?

Owen: Your magic power is pretty strong. Maybe we really are brothers.

Arthur: …Big Brother!

Owen: What's wrong~

Oz: Wrong…!

Arthur: Ah. Oz: That’s definitely wrong, although I don’t know why. Arthur: You over there… Oz: …Are you talking to me?

Arthur: …Sir, you have been silent until now.

Can you say a little more? That way we can get to know your personality better. Maybe the cutest person here is you.

Oz: I have nothing to say to you.

Arthur: Why?

Oz: *Silence* Because I have nothing to say.

Arthur: But why?

Oz: *Longer silence* Because I don't have anything to say so I won't say—

Arthur: Why—!

Snow: So, you guys have nothing to say. Okay, I get it! Let's begin! When I ask who the cutest person here is, everyone points to me.

Mithra: Isn't this cheating?

Snow: Humph! Forget it, let's not ask you; let's ask the spirits of this land.

(Snow asked who is the cutest, who is the noblest, who is the sexiest, and who is liked by animals. The audience responded with Snow, Arthur, Mithra, and Owen. After that, Snow returns memories to everyone.)

Arthur: Where are we?

Owen: Feels like there's a gap in my memory...

Cain: And I feel like I just had a strange dream...

Snow: Ha ha, the first impression game was so much fun!

Oz: I don't remember anything...

Cain: I want to join in too.

Snow: But you already participated.

Cain: Eh? I did? My memory's a bit fuzzy.

Owen: Too bad for you, then.

Snow, did you cast some strange magic on us?

Arthur: I feel like Owen and I were brothers...

Oz: Wrong.

Snow: Ha ha! That was so fun!

Mithra: So, what about the mixer to celebrate our encounter? Is this the end?

Arthur: No, it's not over yet. It's been a while since we last met.

Let’s reminisce about the events from when we first met until now.

Mithra: Are we talking about my heroic deeds?

Arthur: Mithra, Owen, Lord Oz, Cain, Rutile, Lord Snow, and our other esteemed comrades. And let's not forget the heroic deeds of our dear Sir Sage.

Cain: From the Ancient Birds and Beasts to the Resurrected City of the Dead. Three monsters attacking Granville Castle. And the perilous adventures in the Western Kingdom.

Rutile: Too many to recount. Let's share our stories tonight as we delve into the memories we share with the Sage.

Owen: There might be some pages I'd rather forget completely though.

Arthur: Even so, these are the nostalgic scenes that shape who we are. No matter how embarrassing or heartbreaking they may be, let's hold them dear in our hearts. Like precious friends, let's cherish those dark pages with tenderness.

Oz: That’s just like you, who is good at loving others.

Arthur: It's thanks to you, Lord Oz, and the watchful eyes of everyone else, that I'm able to do this. Now, everyone! Let's prepare some warm black tea and sweets. Get ready for our trip down memory lane, with the sound of fireworks and the music we love, while listening to everyone's laughter.

--- END ---

[stormy-sierra]

mods asleep time to post my newest wiz oc. info under the cut

Meet Vigilance Drake, the half-Valencian adopted child of Sylvia and Malistaire Drake who ended up going after his dad when he went mad with grief! He's a savior oc alongside @fabledfirmament's Pandora Drake (adopted kid of cyrus I'll post art of them both soon) and though he starts out alright he ends up leaning too hard into his job and getting singled out for duty by Raven herself. Because Raven distrusts Pandora due to the latter's use of shadow magic, Vigilance ends up getting the full weight of her responsibility - and he does NOT take it well.

[izz-ler]

I've got some more stuff for the vocaloid family au: time for the parents!!!

Details under the cut! (Look at me learning how this cite works woo)

Alright lets start with Miku's parents!

First up, Dad-Miku

Dad-Miku is the middle child of three, bc of that he's become a bit of a people-pleaser from trying to keep the peace between a teenage sister(mom-luka) and a toddler brother(Kaito) when he was a kid. He works at a smaller company in the countryside. His parents(grand-mikus) decided to start a small farm when the kids grew up, and he decided to stay close so that he and his wife could keep an eye on his parents since they're not getting any younger.

Dad-Miku used to dream of becoming a mangaka as a teen, and would self publish small comics that never really got anywhere. He hasn't 100% given up on the idea, but he's not actively pursuing it anymore. He would also help Kaito out with his music since he has a good ear for it.

Miku gets her musical creativity from her dad.

Second is Mom-Miku

Mom-Miku grew up in the outskirts of the city closer to the country with her younger sister(mom-rin/len) she's a very blunt person and says what she thinks if anyone asks, however she knows when to keep it to herself and isn't an overly rude person. She enjoys doing home-DIY projects and helps out her inlaws on the farm whenever she can. She's a wiz in the kitchen, but can't bake for shit. She's not overly judgemental and encourages individuality in her kids and other family members, however she's very much a realist and will tell you when she thinks somethings a bad idea or not, tho she won't stop you.

She gives great advice, and is the one to tell the waiter that her husband asked for mashed potatoes and not fries when out to eat.

Miku takes after her mom in appearance and bluntness.

Third is Mom-Luka

Mom-Luka is a bit of an airhead. She's about 5 years older than Dad-Miku and 12 years older than Kaito, so he's her baby brother, tho they could 100% get into fights when they were younger. She lived at home until she got married, so she got to see both of her brothers grow up. She used to work for an international fashion company which is where she met her husband on a work trip to America. He's Chinese-American and grew up in the States, tho he was willing to move to Japan with Mom-Luka as he wasn't handling the long distance relationship very well. Mom-Luka was very much a stunner in her younger years and Luka has definitely inherited that, tho she's not as ditsy as her mom and takes after her dad more in personality.

Last up is Mom-Rin/Len

Mom-Rin/Len is actually about 10 years younger than her sister, Mom-Miku. She was a bit of a wild-child and party animal in her teens and due to some unfortunate decisions had Rin and Len when she was 17. She doesn't regret it though, because having them made her more responsible. She had to drop out of high-school because of the pregnancy, but managed to get a job at a beauty salon where she worked her way up and got her beauty diplomas so she could get a better pay. She now works and runs a somewhat successful salon and has managed to move her and the kids into the suburbs close to the city, which she's very proud of herself for, especially since she's been a single mother the entire time(she never told the father(bc she didn't know who it was)).

Because she herself was a bit of a rebel, she knows all the ins and outs of sneaky teens which means that Rin and Len can't get away with anything. She doesn't want them to have to deal with the same stuff she did, so she's a bit strict when it comes to school and discipline. But she's not an absolute demon and knows how to party when the time comes.

Mom-Luka likes to go to her salon to get her nails done and Mom-Rin/Len always does it personally, so they're somewhat close.

She likes it when her kids express themselves and encourages them to go crazy with their clothes and hair(hence why Len still has longer hair even though it's against the school dress code). Within reason ofc.

She's very sociable which Rin takes after, but Len's calmness and appearance is starting to remind her of someone as he gets older, tho she can't really put her finger on who.

[louiesselfshipramblings]

Green & Blue [Personal]

Okay okay OKAY! I know based on the poll next one up is Monika origin story...but I ended up getting brainworms for this ship so I wrote. This. I dunno I'm proud of this one. More to come.

This is my first post I'm making where those from my taglist will added! If you want to be tagged in all major selfship posts I make from here on out, just fill out my google form and I'll make sure you're tagged for future commissions, personal work, and things of note. The link can either be found in my previous post or right here!

Word count: 3392

Taglist: @moondane-lovers, @moxanji-real

Alana couldn’t believe this. Did her months of tutelage under the original Green Ghost mean nothing to them all? Was it not enough to be handpicked by both the man himself and the alien gemstone that granted her her powers? Is all that she was good for now as the All-New Green Ghost was patrol work until she could be considered ‘experienced’ enough to properly be on the Guardians of the Globe? Incredibly ridiculous.

Perhaps she was being a bit harsh. After all, Darkwing, Martian Man, and Red Rush all vouched for her right away, and even if she could tell Aquarus was not fully on board, he at least had the courtesy of keeping it to himself. No, the real sticks in the mud were War Woman and the Immortal; from how they composed themselves, she could tell neither were particularly pleased in the sudden swap going on. Even when they did agree to let her in, she could tell there was going to be some growing pains. Last thing she expected was for her end of the arrangement to be consistent and repetitive patrol work, day-in and day-out.

Come on, girl. Look on the bright side, she thought to herself, flying over the city. Least you’re doing hero work, finally. Making a difference. Seeing that justice prevails in the…calmest damn city you’ve ever seen…

She sighed, pausing in her flight and pinching the bridge of her nose. Oh, please. They just want the new kid out of the way. I can end anything in like, five seconds by pushing their feet into concrete. Hmph, maybe a better use of my powers would be getting that stick down out from Immortal’s—

CRASSSH!!

Her musings were suddenly interrupted by the sound of shattering glass. Glancing down in its direction, she saw a large building with a broken window, only for objects from around the building to start floating up around it. Commotion started to build up around it, primarily in the form of screaming civilians. 

Sheesh, finally! She exclaimed, and quickly zoomed down towards the building. As she came closer, she could feel her sense of balance be thrown off for a brief moment. Gravity powers, she reasoned, as she saw several cars and lampposts wiz by. Her eyes locked onto one car, as she could make out a few figures still within them. Dashing over, she made herself intangible, and poked her head through the windshield.

“WHOA!”

“Hey, don’t worry!” Alana assured the startled woman. “I’m the Green Ghost! With the Guardians! Here, grab on!”

She reached out and grabbed hold of the woman, who in turn became intangible herself. Scooping her up, she zoomed out from the car, and out to where the gravity field was no longer in effect. “There you go!” She nodded, setting the woman down. “Everything alright?”

“Y-Yeah. Th-Thank you,” she replied, looking back up at the hero. “W-Wait…I thought the Green Ghost was a man?”

“Oh! Well, there’s been a change,” Alana responded, striking a bit of a hero pose. “I’m the Green Ghost now.”

“Huh…not bad,” the woman noted with a half smile. In that moment, Alana felt a sense of pride deep within her, before her attention turned back to the swirling building. Checking around, she relieved a few more pedestrians from their suspended vehicles, and even one who was still clinging on desperately to his scooter. Soon, from what she could tell, everyone had been evacuated from the area.

“Alana!” She heard a buzz in her ear. “It’s the Immortal! Gale force activity was picked up in your area! What’s going on?”

“Uhh, still trying to figure that out?” She responded, sizing up the building. “This building has got some weird gravity effect going on.”

“I see. Martian Man is nearby, I’ll get him to—”

“Hey, did I say I needed help?” She snapped, somewhat huffy. “If I need it, I’ll call. I can handle this, for crying out loud.”

“If you insist…but don’t go in over your head!”

“Yeah, yeah,” she rolled her eyes, and zoomed into the building’s bottom floor. It looked to be an abandoned supply warehouse, though none of the massiver printers or filing cabinets seemed affected by the altered gravity. “Hmmm…” She looked up, and began to phase up between floors, taking note of how each floor became more and more affected by the field, until eventually she poked her head up to the top floor.

“AH-HAHAHAHAHAHA!!” The cackling came from a man dressed in a white lab coat, with what looked to be a cross between a fishbowl and plasma ball on top of his head. “You blue buffoon! Give up now, for much like gravity itself, not can fight the powers of Professor Mind-Blown!!”

“Ugh, that name is still so gross.” Opposing the professor was a man who appeared dressed in a blue morph suit, not unlike…actually, very not unlike Alana’s own suit. “Maybe you can think of something better when I turn you into the psych ward.”

Mind-Blown went to say something, but Alana wasn’t quite paying attention to him. Her eyes were instead locked on the man in blue. She knew for certain this was the first time she’s seen someone like this before, and yet…he seemed familiar somehow.

“Alright, enough yaps,” the blue man grumbled, cracking his knuckles. “Let’s make this quick!” He started to rush forward, turning intangible as he did.

“Gravity need not make contact to take effect!” The villain smirked, as a ball of energy built up in his bowl. “Horizontal surge!” He cried out, extending his arms outward, generating a massive shockwave that sent everything around him flying—including the blue hero as well.

“Woah!” Alana yelped, suddenly coming to and zooming out in the direction the other hero was flying. She quickly managed to get behind him, catch him, and bring him to a stop. “Gotcha!”

“Phew…hey, thanks for the…”

Suddenly, for a brief moment, the entire world around the two disappeared. Alana floated in midair, holding the blue stranger in her arms, the two staring back at each other. At first, both seemed confused, unsure of what exactly they were dealing with. Then, the blue faded from him, for all of five seconds, but in that moment, she saw him: the man underneath. Her eyes widened, and she could tell from his reaction, the same thing was happening to her. Deep within him, she could see a blue core, beating from within; at the same time and rate, she could feel her own green core pump in tandem. As the suits returned, both reached a simultaneous understanding.

“You’re…like me.”

Alana blinked. “Uh, G-Green Ghost. Guardians of the Globe.”

“Oh! Sapphire Shade. Um…independent hero? I’m…new to this, kinda.”

“Same here…”

The two stared at one another, before a loud crash brought them back to reality. Returning their gazes to the building, they could see Prof. Mind-Blown cackling like mad, as his powers began to tear the building apart. “Oh, right,” the Shade nodded, pointing over to him. “We gotta take care of him.”

“Y-Yeah,” Alana nodded, letting him leave her arms. “What’s that guy’s deal, anyways?”

“His real name is Micheal Bowels,” he explained. “Actual professor, taught at my college, apparently. That fishbowl on his head can disrupt and unleash gravity, but it does turn him into a magnetic pole. If we make him perpendicular to Earth’s gravity, his powers should nullify.”

“Knock him off his feet? Sounds simple enough,” she responded, scoping out the field. “Then again, he was able to push you back even when you were intangible…”

“Yeah, but you can see his charges. Plus they’re like telegraphed a week in advance,” he explained. “Strafe wide and move fast, and you should be able to reach him. Bring him down to the lower floors, and I’ll keep him in place with something.”

“Sounds good!” Alana agreed, watching as the Sapphire Shade took off into the building’s lower floors. She then turned her attention back to Mind-Blown, took a breath, and shot off ahead. Just as she was told, the mad scientist started to fire off more surges, but she could clearly see where the change in gravity was happening. They were also infrequent enough that it was no trouble to weave between them, though she still made sure to hang back for a second, waiting until he fired off one last shot before making her move; she zipped right him, grabbed his legs, and quickly began to drag him down through the floors. “Gotcha!”

“Gah!” The professor cried out. “Hmph! So you are like that blue moron! And I see he taught you what gets my goat. But let’s see if you expected this! Reserved surge go!!”

“Wait, reserved wha—?”

Just as they entered the third floor, a powerful gravity surge split the hero and villain apart, with Mind-Blown cackling and flying one way, while Alana cried out and flew the direct opposite, sending copiers flying across the room. “Ah, so so close,” he chuckled, as objects in the room began to float again. “Trust me, I understand the feeling. Being just on the cusp of success, but failing. It’s why I am the way I am today. With these powers of mind, all shall cower to my greatness.”

“Hrmph…” Alana coughed, as she rose to her feet. “I’ve only been a hero for a month now, but the amount of times I’ve heard that same rant…if I had a quarter each time, I’d have ten bucks.”

“Enough from you!” He scoffed, crossing his arms. “You jest now, but you too shall bear witness to the might of Professor Mind-Blown, as I defy gravity itself!! AHAHAHAHAH—!”

“Hyup!” Suddenly, from right behind Mind-Blown, the Sapphire Shade popped back up, a copier in his arms. Then, to even Alana’s shock, she witnessed the copier split open like gel, to which he then wrapped it around the still startled professor.

“Whaaat!?!”

“And now harden!” He called out, gripping the copier as it appeared to stiffen. “And down ya go!” He then simply pushed him over, and gravity returned to normal. 

“No! Foiled again!?! By a mere copier!?!” The professor struggled in place, yet could only shake his head and kick his legs. “This one doesn’t even have its ink refilled!! I deserve some respect!!!”

As he continued to mumble, Alana slowly flew over, eyes glued to the man currently ensnared in a printer. “H…How did you…do that?” She asked, clearly confused.

“With my powers?” The Shade responded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I made the copier gooey to trap him, and then made it rocky to keep him there. Worked well, right?”

The two looked down at the still rambling professor, and then back at each other. Alana tilted her head at him. “Can you…not do that?” He asked, unsure if that was the right thing to say.

“I…don’t know?” She responded, looking down at her own suit in bewilderment. “But first…we should take care of him.”

“—and to have claimed otherwise would be the greatest travesty ever to befall the great state of New Hampshire!!” Mind-Blown looked between the two heroes, each baring a confused expression. “Were either of you even listening!?!”

The hero duo watched as the armored van took off, while several agents remained around the building to assess damages and injuries. “Huh…I think I finally stopped hearing Mind-Blown ramble,” the Shade remarked. “That guy can just…go on.”

“Oh, please,” Alana chuckled. “You think that’s a lot? Just wait til you meet Doc Seismic. I think he called me something along the lines of ‘affirmative action’ once.”

“Christ, not the racist villain.”

“Honestly, I think he’s just weird. Always going on about the wrongdoings in America’s past.”

“You’d think he’d choose something more appropriate than Doc Seismic, then.”

“Oh, no. He’s got earthquake bracelets. I think they rattle his brain.”

“Golly, a packaged deal!”

The two laughed. “Hey…you did pretty good out there,” he told her with a smile. “But then again, it makes sense with you being a Guardian and all, huh?”

“Heh, yeah,” she nodded, blushing a tad. “Don’t think we got a good enough introduction. I mean, we already know what we look like under these, so what more for our names, right?”

“If I can trust to go into a fight with ya, I can trust ya with who I am,” he smiled, and extended a hand. “Name’s Luka, the Sapphire Shade.”

“Alana, the Green Ghost,” she shook his hand. “Well, the second Green Ghost, actually. I inherited the position from the last guy, and I’m still kinda new on the team, so…”

“And I can see you are already an amazing attribute to them,” Luka responded confidently. “I’m sure those Guardians consider themselves lucky to have someone as skilled as you on their team.”

“Hah! Laying it on a bit thick there, huh?” She beamed, scratching the back of her head as she blushed a bit brighter. “Trying to get something out of me?”

“Aside from a bit of your time, not much,” he shot back. “I’m interested in your powers, Alana. I’d love to chat about them. Maybe over some food, hm?”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “Like a…a date?”

“Yes,” Luka responded simply, before his eyes widened. “Wait, I mean, no! NO! Not a date!! Just an uhhhhhh…debrief! After a successful mission! Right? That’s the word for it?”

She belted out a laugh. “Yeah, sure…I’d love to.”

Luka sighed in relief, a slight blush on his face. “Awesome. Come on, follow me,” he gestured, as he started to take off, Alana following right behind. “I know this great pretzel place just up the street…”

A few minutes later, the two were seated on some random highrise, both de-suited so they could indulge on some fresh soft pretzels. Both of their colored gems sat between them as they chatted.

“He didn’t tell me much on specifics,” Alana went on. “Just that…it appeared to him one day, and granted him these powers. Flight and density manipulation. He worked with the Guardians for years, but eventually he wanted to retire and start a family. The gem apparently just…chose me as his successor.”

“Wild,” Luka nodded slowly. “And you had like, no superhero experience prior?”

“I was a photographer. Still am. Closest I got were some clients having dresses themed around some of them. No idea what it saw in me, but here I am.”

“From what I saw today, I could wager a hunch,” he smiled.

She gave a half smile in return. “What about you? Where’d you find yours?”

He thought for a moment. “There was a crash just outside my house,” he explained. “It was like a skeleton for a moment, before it disintegrated before my eyes. All that was left was this.” He held up his blue gem. “Kept it, cause it looked cool. Then, and I still don’t know why, but one day I just popped it in my mouth. Didn’t even realize it til I started chewing it. Then the suit came on and I just kinda…understood? Know what I mean?”

“Yeah, no, totally,” she nodded. “It all just clicked the first time I used it.”

“Exactly,” he nodded along. “So, I tried being a hero. Been at it for like…few weeks now? Probably coming up on a month, if not already.”

“Not bad,” she praised. “But…what about your powers?”

“Same as yours, least I thought. Got flight and density manipulation, but I can also change the properties of objects. Like, I could make this pretzel as tough as steel. Or make a rock as fragile as a bubble, and pop it like one. That’s honestly my favorite trick, always catches them off guard. You sure you don’t have that?”

“Unless I’m not being told I can,” Alana shrugged. “Far as I’ve used it the past couple of months, I just have the density powers.”

“Wow. And here you continue to impress me,” Luka chuckled. “Spending all that time getting those people down from their cars, phew. Must have been a lot on your shoulders to carry them down one at a time.”

Alana stopped herself from taking another bite. “I…took them down in loads, though? Like I usually do.”

He blinked. “What?? But, I can only make one thing intangible at a time. Even when I make myself intangible. How can you…?”

She thought for a moment, realized something, and then leaned back and grinned. “Maybe that’s what I have over you. You can change how matter behaves, but I have a stronger density manipulation than you. How about that?” She took a hefty bite from her pretzel.

Luka blinked again, and his smile quickly returned. “Well, Alana…I’d say what I have been saying this whole time: you impress me greatly. And…I hope to work with you again in the future. Alien gemstones should stick together, right?”

“Wanting me to put in a word for you at the Guardians, is that it?”

“Oh good lord, no,” he remarked with a laugh. “Nowhere near ready for such a responsibility. But around this city…I think so! I could be like, your cool sidekick, yeah? Like how Darkwing has Night Boy!”

“You’d want to be my Night Boy?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Well…maybe a bit more equal standing,” he corrected himself. “Green Ghost & Sapphire Shade. Huh? Huh? Sounds great, right?”

She thought it over for a moment, and slowly nodded. “Sure. Why not? Could always use an extra hand.”

A wide grin came over Luka’s face. “Awesome! Crime fighting partners! Hell yeah!!” He took a celebratory chomp out of his pretzel. “Feel free to brag about me to your fellow Guardians all ya want.”

“Yeah, I’ll see if—oh, shit!” She exclaimed, slapping her forehead. “I’m still supposed to be on patrol! And I needed to get back—okay, I got some time, but I gotta go now!” She quickly began to scarf down the rest of her pretzel. 

“Whoops, my bad. Didn’t mean to keep ya…”

“Hm? No, you’re fine!” She insisted, gasping as she swallowed a big hunk of pretzel. “I just…need to manage my time better.” She scooped up her gem and rose to her feet. “But it was really great to meet you, Luka. I look forward to working with you!”

“Yeah, same here,” he replied, grabbing his own gem and standing up. “And uh, hey, since this got cut a bit short…maybe we could go out again?”

Alana paused, just about to pop her gem in her mouth. “You…you mean like…another date?”

“Yes—WAIT!” He yelped, before rolling back. “Well, I mean, this wasn’t one, but uh…maybe we could just see each other again? Lunch, dinner…another pretzel? These ones, they deserve to be savored, ya know.”

Between her day job and her superhero work, Alana didn’t have a lot of time for herself. Sure, most of her downtime wasn’t anything specific, but it was nice to have personal time. Sure, it was joked that being a superhero attracted people to you, but this soon? And a guy she just met? A guy so sweet and encouraging…who actively wants to spend time with her…who has powers as well and can understand her hectic life…well…

She smiled, her cheeks flushed ever so slightly. “Sure…that sounds great, actually. Here, give me your number and I’ll call you later, okay?”

Another big grin of his came over him, and he quickly read off his phone number to her. As soon as that was dealt with, she popped the gem in her mouth, and soon her body was covered in the familiar green suit. “Hey, don’t sell yourself short either, okay?” She brought up, as she floated into the air. “You were a big help in taking him down too. You got him caught up, after all.”

“And only because you successfully brought him down and distracted him,” he playfully retorted.

“That kinda partnership is what you want, huh?”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Hm…if you say so,” she chuckled, waving goodbye as she began to fly off. “Take care, Sapphire Shade.”

“You too…Alana,” he responded, waving back.

Her eyes widened a bit in surprise as she felt her face heat up under her mask, prompting her to turn quickly and soar off into the distance…

…but not without a smile on her face.

————

Critiques and feedback are welcome, but please keep it constructive! If you have nothing additive to say, please keep it to yourself!

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

❤️💥👻 for the fanfic writer game

👻 What is your wildest headcanon? i mean, i like the "lydia is a lesbian" headcannon so much sometimes i forget there's no textual evidence for it. i just look at that weird kid as someone who was a weird kid and think. hah. baby dyke. aside from that, and this might be ur fault partially wiz, i think beej would be a pretty okay dad. and specifically a girl dad. hes not winning any awards and he probably loses his temper and argues with his own child but he'd be a much better parent than the one he got stuck with. since hes born dead i kinda go back n forth (mentally, in my padded room, all alone) on how capable of being a bio dad he actually is but he could be an alright adoptive dad too.

[paras1t1c-squ1dd]

RAAAAAGGHHHH NEW WIZ REF 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

He has a LOT of lore to him 🙏🙏 I will probably edit the post later to add more but yeag ↓↓↓ (TW: emetophobia mention.)

If it wasn't obvious, Wiz is Noise's brother. He's about a year younger than Noise.

Yes, his real name is Wilfred. His ENTIRE name is Wilfred Harlan Noise.

Think of His and Noise's relationship like Stanford and Grunkle Stan. It's basically that. (Wiz being Stanford and Noise being Grunkle Stan) It seems like they hate each other but deep down they really care about the other.

Even though he seems like a mean, scary wizard when you first meet him.... But he's really just a sad and pathetic guy. A boyfail even /hj

Bro is stinkin' rich, he has his own mansion n all that. He's also pretty famous for his magic shows as well, but he's not recognized often when not in costume.

He's always grinning or showing his sharp teeth because he doesn't like showing his buck tooth.

One if not both of his eyes are constantly red. Either his eyes are fucked up (which is why he has glasses but refuses to wear them) or it's just... Like that. But they glow green whenever he uses magic.

He also secretly likes crocheting small animal plushies. No one knows about it.

Alright, now for some lore.

He gained his magic from being possessed. How he got possessed is he found a cursed book (on accident), opened it, and made a deal with the spirit that came out of it. It possessed him and gave him magic. Though, there are many downsides. His magic relies on his energy, the less energy he has, the less powerful his magic is. If he runs out of energy, he passes out. Using too much of his magic can cause him to either pass out as well, cough up/puke green sludge that looks like toxic waste (Green and glowing), Or both. Other symptoms can include: Increased outbursts of rage, permanently nauseous when not practicing magic, and manic episodes. Yeah, he's not doing too well. The only way he could be freed of the spirit is if he died. The spirit can in fact show itself, but it could only come out of Wiz's mouth, not fully freed. Or it could also appear in his mind when he's either sleeping or passed out.

He was known as the "gifted" kid during his childhood, which caused him a crippling fear of failure.

The cursed book he found is a spell book, he still has it and has it really organized. (Ex: by alphabet, how powerful or deadly the spells are, as well as having a bunch of notes on the sides. He's a fucking nerd)

He doesn't like being attached to people, he's always afraid he might hurt them or disturb them because of his possession. He's also touch averse and touch starved.

Him and Noise used to be close when they were children. But then drifted apart as they aged, which causes them to fight a lot and get on each other's nerves.

Tldr: He's a loser and he's suffering /j (please actually read it im begging /hj)

[jessisoncleek]

Dinner with Chiron on Friday Night

Dinner wiz Chiron at the friday night

金曜日のよる、ケイロン先生と食事会

**

「Achilles」

I've got tired

僕、まいっちゃいましたよ

ケイロン先生

How can I be alright wizout him

あの人(= 彼 )なしでどう正気でいれるんだろうって話です

He got a booster of my roller coaster

彼に僕の心のブースターを盗まれたみたいで

Higher than the sky

空より高く舞い上がり

Lower than the ocean floor

海底より深く潜ったり

How can I be okay wizout him

僕は彼がいなけりゃ何にもできないんじゃないかって

**

At the day somebody shoot my rib wiz his cross bow

あの日、誰かが私の肋骨、

つまりハートを囲った骨に向かって矢を射たんですよ

It hurts but..

先生、痛かった、あれは痛かったんですけど

I was still alive I was confused

あれ？、そこは僕の急所のはずなのにって

How is this possible?

どうしてそれが可能なのかなって

I even hoped my death (to forget my ex ）

いっそ僕なんざ消えてしまえって思ってましたから　

I would be glad I finally died (to forget my ex)

急所を狙われ、消失できてむしろ���しいわっていう調子だったのに

So…Should I suffer for good?

死ななかったってことは、

このままあの人のいない現実で苦しめってことなのかって

How can I live wizout him?　*sobbing*

どうやって彼なしで生きてりゃいいんだいって、、うう、

btw where is my vital point?

ところで、僕の急所ってどこなんだろって思いません？

yeah, I just want to be a popular person who is liked by "every"one

ええ、恥ずかしながら、僕、誰からも好かれる人気者になりたいって思うところがありまして、

but I kinda feel my vicious about that point

でもね、それってある意味、冷徹なのかなって

It's kind like possessive

独占欲の部分がさ、、

so I thought my heart was my vital point

だから、僕の急所は傲慢で膨れた僕のハートだなって思ってたんですよ

any way, who did this to me!

しかしそれにしても、矢を射るなんて誰ができるんだろって話ですよ

***

「Chiron」

grow up, kid

成長せよ、君

when you bathed in styx river

君が三途の川の水を浴びている時

your conscious was grabed by someone

君の"意識が"他の誰かに掴まれていたんだよ

you always let someone in your conscious

君はいつだって君の意識の操縦器を他の者に受け渡していたではないか

you want to be someone

君は自分ではない他の誰かになりたかった

not as yourself

君自身で生きる覚悟がなかった

you don't care of yourself

他人に合わせていつもズタズタじゃないか

you have your body but

your body is empty all the time

つまり君の体の容れ物の中身は思考もソウルも何もなく、いつも空っぽだったのさ

Even if a empty right foot was grabbed by your mother, it doesn't make sense

例え、空っぽの右足を掴まれたとしても何の意味も成さない

someone malicious who seek your vulnerability, knowing grabbing you would prevent you from being immortal

君の一部を掴むことで、君が不死身になることを止められると知って、弱点を探っていた悪意のある者が、

noticed your conscious is exposed from your body

君の意識が君の身体から抜け出していることに気がついたんだ

but that's a mistake for him

でも意識を狙ったのは彼の間違えの様だね

**

I'm sure u have a heart with empathy and kindness

君が共感や優しさのハートをもっていることは確かだよ

u feel love

愛を感じとれる透き通る心だ

**

then your vital point is…

つまり君の急所はだね

.. your "mental" of self understanding

自己理解におけるメンタルだ

The person who shoot your rib could be your ally

ハートを囲む肋骨に矢を射たのは必ずしも敵ではないぞ

The man might care about u and make u notice your vital point

君の本当の急所のあり場所に気が付かせようとした者がいるのかもしれない

**

「Achilles」

Oh, teacher Chiron..

ああ、ケイロン先生、、

wut the..

おお、鼓動の高鳴りが聞こえる

真相に近づいている音が、、

wut is my life

俺の人生ってなんなんだろ

my vital point is

my "mental" of self understanding?

僕の急所は自己理解おけるメンタル?..

the spot is "mental"…

急所がメンタル

Oh my, oh my..

それってそれって、、

**

「Chiron」

Yes it is.

そうだ

No one can reach a mental with cross bow, spear or other weapon

メンタルは矢をもっても、槍をもってもその他の武器でもっても到達することはできん

**

「Achilles」

HOLLY　MOLLY

ま じ で す か

OMG

That means..

それってつまり

I.. I.. ah

僕はつまり、あの、、その、、

I can't believe..

ちょっと信じられないな、、

So…

そう、、、

… I MMA IMMORTAL‼

僕って不死身やったんや‼

ハートを囲む肋骨に矢を射たのは、当時Achillesのハートを射とめた、親友であり、恋人(とも言われている）Patroclsということにしました

Patroclsに失恋してるのに矢を射たのがPatroclsなのはおかしいかな、、lol

「掴む」のくだりが、ゴチャついてしまいました

AchillesのmotherはAchillesの右足を掴んでいたんだけれど、人間の本質の意識や精神が身体を離れていたから、意味がなかったって、無理矢理そうしました😅

悪意のある誰かは未来から来た生命体か、

あらかじめ予言？を聞いていたAgamemnon

になる？？なんか変ですね(笑)

どうあれ、Percy JacsonとThe song of Achillesを読んだだけなので、ずぶずぶです。すいません

最後まで読んでもらって

ありがとうございました！

[jynxeddraca]

WIP Wednesday (on a Thursday)

I wasn't tagged or anything but I saw a few floating around and decided that I wanted to share an older WIP from my BG3 fanfic 'A Most Unexpected Adventure' [link] that won't properly be posted for a good while because the scene is set in Act 2 of the game, and I'm still getting through Act 1. This is what happens when I write things out of chronological order and as I get motivation.

Bit of a long read so I'm going to post it under a read-more. Quick summary is Team Tadpole runs into Arabella, is convinced to let her stay in camp, and then meet Gerringothe Thorm - where Tav indulges in her curiosity with fatal consequences:

Run into Arabella

Someone was crying.  Tav ducked out of sight, afraid it was something like Oliver.  “Do you see anyone?”  She whispered quietly.

“Not yet.”  Astarion responded, equally quiet as he slid a dagger from its sheath.

Carefully, with the Karlach and Gale following closely, Tav crept forwards looking for the source of the crying.  Through the greenish haze, a figure slowly materialized.  A figure that was familiar.  “Arabella?”  Tav asked hesitantly, hand hovering uncertainly over her sword.

Arabella turned around and the fearful, mournful expression turned hopeful.  Until two shadows rose up reaching for her. 

“Run!”  Tav yelled jumping to attack.

“Twist ‘em up!” Arabella hissed as she turned and what looked like thick vines shot up and held the shadows tight.

“Huh?”  Tav breathed, freezing and staring at the now entrapped shadows.

“It is you!”  Astarion exclaimed happily.  “Our little idol thief.”

“Looks like she’s learned a thing or two.”  Karlach said.  “Cool.”

Glancing at the shadows writhing in thorny, glowing vines, Tav took a moment to accept that the kid had just spared them a decidedly not-fun fight before turning back towards Arabella and resheathing her sword.  “You alright?”

Arabella nodded, panting.  “Sorry.  Knocks the wind right out of me.”

Kneeling down so she was more on level with her, Tav carefully checked her over for injuries.  “Quite the powerful spell – bet there’s a great story behind you learning it.”  Tav said, surprised that even without a torch, she seemed entirely untouched by the curse lingering to the world.

“Yeah.”  Arabella said with a wide grin, catching her breath.  “That druid idol I took?  It changed me.”

“Changed?”  Tav asked.

“Uh-huh!  I can do all sorts of stuff now, not just the vines.”  Arabella said sounding somewhere between anxious and excited.  “I think real hard and say some loud words and then it happens.  Mostly.”

“Fascinating.”  Gale said stroking his beard.  “It could be possible the idol has awakened latent sorcerer abilities in her.  If I recall correctly, tieflings are rather prone to inherent magic – tell me Arabella, when you use your newfound abilities does the result match up with your intent?”

“I – um, well when it works?”  She said uncertainly, fidgeting.  “Like now, I wanted the vines to stop them, and they did.”

Gale nodded.  “Generally speaking, nothing unexpected happens?”

Arabella perked up.  “Oh!  You mean like wild magic?  No, doesn’t seem to be that.  Grump Wiz already helped me figure that much out.”

Hiding her snort with a cough while Karlach didn’t even try to hide her laugh, Tav was willing to bet all her coin that Arabella was talking about Rolan.  “Well, I’m glad.  Normally tales involving stolen artifacts are tragedies.”  Tav said, absently straightening the younger girl’s kerchief around her neck once she had a lid on her amusement.  “You seemed to have bucked that trend.”

“Tragedies?  Them’s the sad ones, right?”  Arabella asked, watching as Tav nodded.  “I hope not.  Especially since mum and pops – after Zevlor – when he…”

Smoothing down Arabella’s hair as her voice hitched, Tav already had a feeling where this was leading, and wiped tears that began to leave clean trails on the girl’s dirty cheeks.  “Oh, duzzdy aly-,”

“Perhaps,”  Astarion interjected.  “–we should get away from the entrapped shadows first, then learn what happened.”

Tav started to give him a cross retort when she realized that the vines holding the ever more enraged shadows couldn’t hold forever.  “Right,” She said faintly, scooping Arabella up with only a faint protest on her part.  “We’re not far from camp, just across the river.  We’ll head back and keep searching once we get you somewhere safe.”

Despite the fact that she was nine, and was more than capable of walking, Arabella let Tav carry her, sniffling and quietly crying into armor – seeking some measure of comfort as they picked their way carefully through the twisted landscape that used to be a town.  By the time the river was crossed, and the camp came into view, most of the tears had tapered off.

“Why do you have a child?”  Lae’zel asked curiously as they walked up.

Astarion laughed.  “You remember Arabella, yes?  The idol thief from the grove?”

“She was out in the curse.”  Gale said before pinning Astarion with a dry look.  “And I think bringing up the poor girl’s criminal history is in poor taste-,”

Shadowheart quickly grabbed her medicine bag.  “How badly has it affected her?”  She said over Gale and Astarion starting to fuss at each other.

“Kid’s tough, and has a few new tricks.”  Karlach said.  “She’s untouched, well – at least by the curse.”

“Lady of Darkness, she must have had a good torch with her.”

Tav sat Arabella down on a log they had been using as a bench.  “No torch, must be the powers from the idol.”  She said tugging a handkerchief out of a pouch.  “Here, blow.”

Arabella cleared her nose into the cloth.

“By the gods.”  Wyll breathed.  “It’s a miracle she survived being out in that curse.”

“Poor dear, it must have been harrowing.”  Volo said, fingers tapping his chin as he looked from the swirling darkness around them back to the little girl.  Suddenly, the worried tapping changed to stroking his beard with an intrigued hum.  “Not many come back with that kind of tale.”  He murmured before hurrying quickly to his tent, ignoring Wyll’s annoyed look.

“Great, Volo’s interest is piqued.”  Karlach grumbled.  “Not it.”

“What do you mean, ‘not it’?”  Wyll asked.

“I’m not baby-sitting him this time to make sure he’s not being a pest.”  Karlach explained.

Astarion’s head whipped around.  “Not it as well.”

“Gods.”  Wyll muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Lae’zel hummed and turned towards Tav.  “I believe I must rescind my opinion that your people are weak.  If a child can survive this, then I clearly was mistaken.”

Tav turned and shot her an unamused look.  “Thank you.”  She said dryly before turning back towards Arabella.

“You are welcome.”

Arabella gave a soft, giggle at the expression that passed over Tav’s face.

“Wyll, do you happen to recall if we have any leftovers from this morning I can warm up?”  Gale called.  “I’m sure the poor girl could use a hot meal after – erm, everything.”

At Gale’s words, a loud gurgle rose up from the girl’s stomach and she wrapped her arms around her middle, face darkening.  “That does sound good.”

“Then let’s get you something to eat.”  Tav said gently.  “Then we can talk.”

There was – to Tav’s relief – a healthy portion of food from that morning that Arabella was quick to scarf down.  Chewing the inside of her lip, Tav wondered if the way she shoveled food was because she learned to do so somewhere between Avernus and being a refugee – or if she’d gone without for a few days.

“You’re going to chew yourself to blood if you keep that up.”  Astarion said quietly.  “And that’s my job.”

“Maybe later.”  Tav murmured absently, not truly absorbing what he said and fully ignoring the huff of annoyance he gave.  Instead, she watched as Gale took Arabella’s cleaned plate and a spare blanket was pulled around her shoulders.

“For road food, that was pretty good.”  Arabella said.

Gale beamed.  “All in the spices.  So long as you have them, you can make just about anything taste good.”

“Helps we aren’t in Avernus anymore either.”  Karlach laughed earning a grin from the girl.  “Now, how’d you end up all the way on the wrong side of town?”

Tav’s ear pricked and Volo rapidly began to scratch out something in his notebook.

“I was looking for mum and pops.”  Arabella said after a moment, once she gave Volo an unimpressed look.  “There was an ambush – Zevlor…Zevlor went all funny.  He told everyone to give up.  Kept saying everything was fine even – even when they started hurting Asharak…”  As she talked her lip began to quiver.

Without thought Tav started to move to comfort Arabella until Astarion caught her around the waist, keeping her sitting on the log they were sharing. 

“Let her finish, then go be a mother hen.”  He murmured, cutting off any protests before they could be voiced.

“I didn’t look, but I could hear-.”  Arabella shook her head and shuddered.  “I don’t know what happened.  Suddenly everyone was screaming or fighting, mister Rolan sent a bunch of goblins flying, then mum yelled ‘run!’, so we ran.  I could hear ‘em running behind me – until I couldn’t.”  Arabella said, staring into the fire before taking a deep breath and roughly wiping her face with the blanket.  “Still can’t find them – but I bet you can.”  Hopeful, tear bright eyes lifted towards Tav.  “You’ll help me, I just know it!”

“Of course I will.”  Tav said – sending up a silent prayer that she wasn’t going to have to come back and tell the poor girl she was an orphan.

A wide, relieved grin broke out on her face.  “Thanks miss.  I knew you’d help me again!”

Astarion’s hand released her, and he leaned to rest his elbows on his knees.  “It’s what she does.  Now I suppose you’ll be wanting to get back to your friends – they’re all safe and sound at an inn very appropriately called ‘Last Light’.”

Tav turned to give him a curious look that Astarion immediately waved off.

The bright grin faded, and Arabella pulled the blanket around herself tighter.  “I don’t suppose I can stay here?”  She asked, drawing Tav’s gaze again.

“It’s awful dangerous out here, really no place for a child.”  Gale said as Wyll nodded.  “Besides, like Astarion said – wouldn’t you rather be near your friends?”

Arabella shook her head before shooting Tav a pleading look.  “Please, just until you find mum and pops.  I won’t be any trouble I swear it!”

“Gale’s right, it’s incredibly dangerous out here-,”  Tav said slowly, watching desperation creep into Arabella’s eyes.

“But you saw what I can do!  I can help around camp too!”

Withers gave a hum of interest that drew everyone’s attention, even though he didn’t say anything more.

“See, he – um, Bone Man is okay with it.”  Arabella said stumbling as she realized she didn’t know Withers’ name.

“I –,”  Tav hesitated.  “We don’t have a spare tent duzzdy aly.”

“If you aren’t opposed to giving up yours for a while, you can share mine.”  Astarion said casually.  “We spend the night together often enough.”

Arabella pulled a face momentarily at Astarion that stated clearly, she knew what that meant – making Tav hide an embarrassed flush behind her hand – before turning her eyes on Tav once more and giving the bard her best puppy eyes.  “See, a tent!  I swear I won’t be any trouble!”

Karlach laughed.  “She has you there soldier.”

Tav sighed into her hand.  “Okay,”

“Yes!  You’re the best.  Thank you, hero-lady!”  Arabella said jumping up.

“Hero-lady?”  Astarion repeated quietly.

“But,”  Tav said firmly and watched as Arabella sat back down, deflating.  “If camp gets compromised, or we’re moving camp and something happens – I want you to stick close to one of us.  Shadowheart especially.”

“Why me?”  Shadowheart asked curiously.  “Nothing against you, Arabella-,”

“Because you can make that ring of radiant…bird things.”  Tav said and was met with a dry blink.

“Spirit guardians?”  Shadowheart asked.

“Yes, that.”  Tav said and Arabella giggled at her.

Shadowheart hummed.  “And Gale can make a wall of fire.”

“Indeed I can, I see the logic of sending her to Shadowheart – but I normally attack from range and can perform quite the variety of protective spells.”  Gale pointed out.

Tav bit her lip as Astarion unhelpfully turned and grinned widely, clearly amused to see what she was going to say.  “Yes, and it’s very effective – but, and no offense Gale, our enemies do seem to try to take you out first.”

Gale opened his mouth as though about to explain something, realized what she said, and halfway deflated.  “Ah, I see.  Now that you mention it, I am often targeted.”

“Sorry.”  Tav said.  “If that wasn’t the case-,”

“No, no.  I fully understand.  No offense is taken.”  Gale said with a nod.

Wyll chuckled.  “Worst case scenario, one of us takes Arabella to safety at Last Light.  Tav, you tend to move the quickest-,”

“Not me.”  Tav said, shaking her head and looking down.  “I – I don’t have a good track record getting kids to safety.”

“Correct, you died the last time.”  Lae’zel said casually shifting the egg in her care closer to the fire for warmth as Karlach choked on the swig of water she had taken.  “But this is now.”

The scratching of Volo’s quill paused before beginning again at a furious pace.

Wyll let out a low whistle.  “Wow.  I don’t think that was a necessary reminder.” 

“Died?”  Arabella asked faintly and Tav glared at Lae’zel.

“Bit harsh, don’t you think?”  Shadowheart asked.

Lae’zel looked up, saw the looks she was getting, and scowled.  “You have learned since then.  Anyone in this camp would be able to protect this child – you included.”  She said, annoyance coloring her words as she jabbed a finger at Tav.  “Listen to the words I speak and not what your ears wish to hear kainyank.”

Tav’s glare softened, despite the insult tossed at her.  “Then thank you, I appreciate that.”

“You should.”  Lae’zel grumbled gingerly rotating the egg.

Arabella stared, eyes shifting from the egg, to Tav, to Lae’zel and back to Tav again.  “I’m sorry – you died?  Are you a zombie that just…isn’t gross?”

“Hmm, that could be possible.”  Volo said absently before resuming scribbling down whatever outlandish things the conversation had inspired in him.

Astarion gave a laugh and patted Tav on the shoulder.  “Have fun.”  He said before standing up and ignoring her groan of annoyance.

---

“You were oddly accommodating earlier.”  Tav said conversationally as they walked down what used to have been a street, Karlach and Gale trailing behind.  “If I didn’t know better, I would say you have a soft spot for Arabella.”

“How dare you.”  Astarion said, though his tone was anything but offended.

Tav shot him a sidelong look and took a moment to decide if she really wanted to ask what was on her mind.  “Then why offer to let me stay in your tent while she’s in camp?”

Astarion raised a brow at her.  “Are you complaining?”  Came the response that was equal parts flirtatious and cautious.

“No.”  Tav said, wondering if they would ever get to a point where he answered more questions than he deflected with his own questions.  “Far from it, but you’ve never shown concern for any of those kids before.  So I’m – admittedly – a little curious.”

“Even though her powers are new, they could be very useful if something were to slip into camp while we’re asleep.”  Astarion said tilting his torch so he could read a rotting road sign a little better.

Letting out an offended scoff, Tav shook her head and put several paces between them before resuming her normal gait.

“Hm, that looks like a conversation best kept some distance from.”  Gale’s voice seeped through the air and Tav rolled her eyes skywards.

It didn’t take but a couple of long strides for Astarion to catch back up with Tav.  “You asked, darling.”  He said tersely.

“She’s a child.”  Tav retorted.

“Who is stuck in the middle of a town cursed to eternal, lethal, Sharran darkness just like the rest of us.”  Astarion shot back.  “And unlike those at Last Light, we don’t have a Selûne cleric or a small army keeping our camp safe.”

His words made her stomach knot, and she rubbed the back of her neck.  “Maybe letting her stay in camp is a bad-,”

“You saw how uncomfortable she got when you suggested it.”  Astarion interrupted.  “And if Rolan has opinions on it, then my guess is these powers didn’t wait until now to manifest and haven’t been looked upon favorably.”

Tav pursed her lips, the worry in Arabella’s eyes hadn’t escaped her notice before – it still didn’t make her decision to let her stay in camp sit any more comfortably.

“Besides, if you want to think of purely her wellbeing – Rolan is the only wizard around – besides Gale – that could possibly help her control her newfound abilities and – remind me, darling, what has our Elturian friend been doing since staying at the inn?”  The question was followed by him touching his fingers to his ear and leaning towards Tav slightly.

A violent urge to smack him bubbled up, was considered, and ultimately repressed.  “He’s been drinking.”  Tav finally sighed.

“So much so, that he appears to have cleaned the inn out of Arabellan Dry, no less.”

Tav scowled at the laugh in his voice.

“Ugh, you’ve certainly lost your humor all of a sudden.  I thought you enjoyed the company of the little ragamuffin.”  Astarion half whined.

“I do enjoy her company.”  Tav said pausing and trying to recall if anything looked familiar.  “But it was hard enough when Mirkon-,”  The words died on her tongue, and she had to take a slow, deep breath to will the sudden nausea down.

“Uh-huh.  Your ill mood isn’t entirely about Arabella, is it?”  Astarion ventured after a long moment, laugh fading from his voice.

Tav exhaled through her nose.  “It was bad enough having to tell everyone about Mirkon – who went on his own into danger.  If something happens to Arabella because I let her stay in camp knowing how dangerous it is out here…”  She shook her head and scanned the cursed area.

“It’s not that bad.”

Turning to look at him, Tav crooked an eyebrow at him.  “We have the entire githyanki population after us – minus Lae’zel and the egg, a cult infested with tadpoles, and I have a feeling we’ve barely scratched the surface of what’s lurking out here.”  A new thought hit her, and her gaze drifted away from him.  “Gods, if her parents are alive, how would I even begin to explain myself to them if something happens?”

Astarion was silent for a long moment, and when he did speak up – his tone was surprisingly serious.  “Tav, nowhere in this town is actually safe.  Not in our camp nor at the inn.  Arabella has the choice to stay in the small, dangerous camp that moves locations regularly and is constantly on alert – or stay at the larger, still dangerous inn that the mind flayer cult is very aware of where it is and has already tried to – very nearly successfully, need I remind you – kidnap the sole reason it’s safe to begin with.”

Surprisingly, his words soothed some part of her that refused to let go of the worry that had been needling itself into her mind.

“As for that boy, no one blames you for his death – well, no one except you, apparently.”  He tacked on absently, scratching his ear.  “What’s the point in torturing yourself over it when a horrible death could happen to us at any moment?  Better yet, why torture yourself when the brain worm cult will do it for you if we get caught?”

Tav made a face, pressing her lips flat and blinking towards the darkness for a moment.  “You’re a terrible pessimist, but somehow I feel better.”

Astarion started to smile smugly at her until he absorbed the entire sentence.  “Hey!”

“So if you two are done with – whatever.”  Karlach called.  “I don’t think we came this way before.  This bridge is new.”

Tav absently patted Astarion on his arm as she moved past him towards where Karlach and Gale were.

“Seems to be a tollhouse this way.  Probably can loop back around towards where we found Arabella if we push on.” Gale said.

“A tollhouse?”  Astarion said, interest lighting up his voice.  “Good, let’s hope the people who abandoned it left their valuables lying around.”

Tav raised an eyebrow at him as they continued across the bridge.  Before she could comment, the torch he carried was snuffed out and the air chilled even further.

“What?  With that pixie’s blessing, we don’t have to worry about the curse – we can peruse, find something to fund our way back to the city.  Or maybe just find a few nice, little trinkets to help lighten the memories of this shit hole.”  Astarion said with a laugh and Tav had to press her lips together to keep the amusement from showing on her face.

Ahead of them, Karlach lurched sharply.  “Whoa! Almost slipped there.”

“You wouldn't be the first, I'd wager.”  Gale said, tapping a foot along where the stone of the bridge turned into the wooden floor of the tollhouse.  “It's been some time since these walkways felt the carpenter's hammer.”

Karlach turned and shot him a grin.  “You gonna catch me if I eat a brick?”

“With my reflexes? I'd catch you before you so much as stubbed a toe.”  Gale returned.

Astarion gave a short laugh.  “I’d pay money to see that.”

“Wait, someone’s here.”  Karlach hissed, waving her hand at them.

They all paused, ears pricked as heavy footsteps made the floorboards above them creak and groan.  Interspersed with every few steps, a sound like coins being dropped followed.

Tav spotted a place where the floorboards didn’t meet each other like they should and carefully crept towards it, leaning and tilting to try to get a better look.  Something moved above her head.  While she didn’t get a good look at who or what it was, she did spy a flash of metal and several coins hit the floor, bouncing and falling the ground in front of her.  Blinking, she reached down and picked up a few of them, flipping them back and forth in her palm.

“Is that thing dropping gold coins?”  Karlach asked faintly.

“Oh I like where this is going, let’s kill it.”  Astarion suggested gleefully.

Gale hummed and angled to see through the floor boards as well.  “Could be a very effective trap for any would-be treasure hunters.”

Tav nodded, and carefully moved through the building, watching the upper floor until she slipped around a corner and nearly leapt backwards as a skull that appeared to be engulfed in vivid blue-green smoke turned towards her. 

“Report to the toll master.  Pay the toll.”  It said curtly before looking away again.

They were all silent for a long moment before Astarion let out a soft, musing ‘huh’ at the skull.  At which point it turned around, tilted slightly at them before speaking once more.

“No payment.  No passage.”

“Of course.”  Tav said faintly.  “On our way, um…toll master?”  She asked, pointing up at the floorboards above them.

The skull nodded as curtly as it’s words and promptly ignored them.

Karlach gave a faint hum.  “Yeah, that’s not creepy at all.”  She whispered sarcastically.

“It’s hovering over a pile of gold.”  Astarion said, leaning around Tav to get a better look.

The skull immediately snapped it’s attention to him.

“Which is clearly the toll master’s.”  Astarion said quickly.  “Probably just waiting to be earmarked appropriately.”

The skull stared for a long moment, but eventually turned away from them again.

Gale nodded to the other side of the floor.  “There’s another one.”

Unable to resist the curiosity bubbling up in her, Tav walked with slightly less stealth than before to the new skull.  “Hello?”

It swiveled around to focus on her.  “You should leave now.”  It said mournfully.  “I should have left when I still could.”

“Hey, same voice.”  Karlach said turning to look back at the other skull.

“Why were you here?”  Tav asked gently.

“So many ships came, so many ships left.  And I remained.”  It said, without regard to the question, voice barely above a whisper.

A hand touched Tav’s shoulder.  Looking towards the owner, Astarion quietly cleared his throat and nodded towards another pile of gold near the skull.

Noticing the motion, Gale stroked his beard.  “Clearly, they take collecting tolls here very seriously.”  He mused.  “But so far, it seems we are not unwelcomed.”

“So many ships.”  The skull continued.  “Why did I stay?”

Sparing a pitying look towards the skull, Tav cautiously looked towards the upper floor.  “There’s more of them upstairs, I don’t know how many though.”

“I don’t like this.”  Karlach said shifting her weight back and forth absently.  “Feels like a trap.”

Footsteps passed above their heads again.  “Perhaps only a trap to anyone foolish enough to take what is so brazenly on display.”  Gale mused quietly, eyes following the shadow that filtered through the gaps in the floor.

Following Gale’s gaze, Tav nodded.  Everything else in the ruined town had made it clear very quickly if it were going to try to kill them or not – but the creatures in this tollhouse seemed docile.  There were soft mutterings that grew and ebbed, but nothing that spoke of any particular danger.

“You should leave – while you can.”  The skull murmured.  “Like I should have.”

“Can we please move away from this one?”  Astarion hissed.

Giving a nod, Tav slowly stepped out from under the intact portion of wood above her head.  Scanning the area, she almost missed the stairs that had been broken by one of the cursed trees growing through it.  Hesitating for only a moment, she made her way to them and ignored the hiss from Astarion.

Despite his obvious disagreement, Astarion did join her and the other two as they moved to the second floor, another skull muttering snidely about sentimental objects.  “This is a terrible idea.”  He bit out quietly.

Tav slowly, carefully made her way towards the toll master, watching for any signs that they were about to turn hostile. 

It was a woman, Tav realized after a moment when the toll master let out a rather manic-sounding muttering.  Or at least, she mused, had a similar, feminine voice as the skulls that hovered near the piles of gold.  Light was faint in this part of town, but Tav’s dark vision allowed her to see that this master reflected what little of it from every part of her – as though made of metal herself. 

‘Are they a golem?’  Tav wondered watching as the toll master paused, sniffing the air.

“Perhaps we should-,”

The toll master whirled and lunged towards them, crouching as she landed and bellowed.  “WHAT DO YOU BRING?”

Tav jumped back with a startled yelp, and then her mouth moved faster than her brain.  “Ballads, sonnets, jigs – the list is endless really.”  Spilled forth with a laugh and Tav quickly held her fist against her lips to make herself shut up as all three of her companions turned to give her incredulous looks.

“Shut it.”  Tav hissed.

“Didn’t say a word.”  Gale murmured placatingly.

“I REQUIRE GOLD!”

“Oh,”  Tav said glancing around the tollhouse.  “I see.”  She added before tossing the creature one of the gold pieces she had picked up from the floor earlier. 

As she did so, in an effort to at least see with some color, she activated the locket around her neck sending motes of light to fly around the room.  With morbid fascination, she watched the toll collector snatch the gold piece mid air.  As the toll master stared at the coin in her palm, it began to smoke before being shoved into her metal face – sparkling, golden steam rising as the hand was pulled away.

The four of them stood, staring at the collector in silent shock.

“AGAIN!”

Tav abruptly realized the collector’s mouth wasn’t moving as though she was yelling past the gold surrounding her head.

“Again?”  Astarion asked, horrified.  “No, we should not give it gold for nothing in return.”

A sigh emanated from the golden person.  “YOU MAY PASS THE RIVER.  BUT FIRST YOU MUST PAY.”

“Mmm, you think she’d stop yelling if we pay?”  Karlach mused, rubbing the side of her head.

Tav studied the shiny carapace in front of her, taking note of the intricate details of the clothing – looking more like someone had been dunked in gold rather than molded from it.  “Were you the toll collector – before the curse?”

“By the gods, you don’t think that used to be a person, do you?”  Gale asked softly.

“I COLLECT THE GOLD.  THE GOLD SO YOU MAY PASS.”  Came the impatient response.

“Yes, yes, we got that much.  Gods, do you have to say it so loudly?”  Astarion grumbled. 

Tav ignored him.  “I already tossed you gold.”

“ANOTHER!”

“How much is the toll?”  Tav asked, keeping the remaining coins in her hand hidden, though she fidgeted with them absently.

“ALL THAT YOU HAVE.”  Came the bellowed response, sounding pleased at the question.

“You had better not.”  Astarion hissed softly while Gale shushed him.

Tilting her head, tail flicking in curiosity, Tav took a moment to look around the building.  Its century long abandonment had not been kind, the fact it was still standing felt akin to a miracle to her.  Finally looking back at the tollhouse collector, she canted her head the other way, the twitching of her tail making a soft ‘bap’ sound as the spade of it contacted the floor. 

“Why stay here?  It’s rotting and falling apart.”  Tav asked and the creature paused, almost recoiling at the question.  “Why not take your gold and be free?”

Astarion uttered something under his breath.

“Actually, now I’m kinda curious too.”  Karlach said.

“THE GOLD IS NOT FOR ME.  THE GOLD IS FOR THE TOLL.  I COLLECT THE TOLL.  I COLLECT THE GOLD.”  The tollhouse collector explained somehow louder and more exasperated than before.

Another look around the building and this time, the collector followed Tav’s gaze.  “Says who?”  She asked, mostly out of genuine curiosity, partially just to see what this line of questioning would lead.  Turning back to the collector she held her arms out to drive home her point.  “I don’t see anyone else here to oversee you.”

One could almost see the collector’s mind churning at this new information, making her shift and look around furtively.  “GOLD…GOLD!  GOLD! NO!  No.  I pay it back.”

“Oh, how generous of her.”  Gale said sounding surprised.  “Glad you talked some sense into-,”

The collector flared white hot before them, a smell of ozone and something metallic slammed into their noses followed by a loud pop echoing through the building along side a haunting, lingering, pained scream.  The collector – whatever she had been, was now a crumpled heap on the floor.

Tav recoiled, jumping back once again and this time into Astarion who caught her around the shoulders, both of them staring, mouths ajar at the golden body lying before them.

After a long moment, a cackle filled the air from Karlach.  “Ye gods!  You talked her death!”  She wheezed, bending over to put her hands on her knees as she continued to sound like a hyena.

“I didn’t mean to.”  Tav said faintly, blinking rapidly at the collector.  “I just – I just...”

“Gale, would that count as having a silvered tongue – or should we upgrade Tav as having a golden one?"  Astarion asked with a laugh.

“It’s not funny!”  Tav said pulling away from him, half-hysterical while gesturing at the body.  “She’s dead!  I killed her!  With – with words.”

“Yes, darling, I was there and I’m rather impressed.”  Astarion said putting a hand on his face and amusedly watching Tav as she wrapped her mind around what had just happened.  “I had no idea you had it in you.”

Gale cleared his throat.  “Clearly, a hundred years of thinking of nothing but collecting gold withered her mind away until she couldn’t fathom anything beyond such things.”  He said stepping towards the body and prodding it with his staff with a metallic clink.  “If there was ever a mind in there that could comprehend such things to begin with.”

“No.  Absolutely not.”  Tav said latching onto the thought tightly.  “That has to be a golem, or – or an automaton.  I refuse to believe I could talk an actual person to death.”

Astarion chuckled and walked over as well, beginning to rifle through the many pouches that adorned the collector’s waist.  “Why?  That could be such a useful skill to have.”  As he spoke, he pulled a golden mace from a holster, examining it before setting it aside.

Tav stared at him for a moment before pressing her palms together and tapping her fingertips against her chin.  “People cannot be simply talked to death.  If they could, more people would do it.”

Karlach took a deep, breath though she was still faintly chuckling and giggling.  “Yeah, normal people maybe.  I don’t think she counts though.”

“I don’t think this toll master is an automata.”  Gale mused using his staff to move an arm.  “The movement is too life like to be machine.”

“Golem, then.”  Tav said.  “I’ve heard they can be made of all sorts of things, and are not known for have terribly complex minds.”

“Wrong again dear.”  Astarion said unfurling a scroll.  “A trade visa, outlining a Gerringothe Thorm as the tollhouse master approving safe passage to Baldur’s Gate.  Unsigned though, a shame.”

Tav made a softly, strangled noise that spurred a fresh laugh from Karlach.  “Doesn’t mean that’s her.”  Tav mumbled.

“Eh, she kinda had the same voice as the skulls – oh, and they popped too.”  Karlach said as she turned about.

A quick glance around confirmed that all the skulls had fallen to the floor, inanimate as a skull should be.

“Ooo, a key,”  Astarion said teasingly, wiggling it at Tav and grinning.  “I wonder which door this opens?”

“You’re not gonna drop this are you?”  Tav asked and his grin only widened.

It opened the tollhouse master’s office, it turned out.  Within that office was a bust of none other than the tollhouse master herself: Gerringothe Thorm – a perfect match to the face of the golden body upstairs.

“Well, looks like Gale was right – her mind simply rotted away like the rest of this place.”  Astarion laughed as Tav started to cross her arms but changed plans halfway to tap a fingernail against her teeth while tucking her other arm against her middle. 

“Eh, don’t fret over it soldier.  Shit happens.”  Karlach said, patting her on the shoulder.

Astarion nodded and glanced between the bust and Tav again.  “You must try that on someone who’s a little more…there upstairs.”

“I will not!”  Tav said firmly, scowling at him. 

Karlach coughed to hide another laugh.  “I think you’ve teased her enough for one day fangs.”

“I didn’t even try to kill her!  I just asked her why she stayed.”  Tav muttered darkly, glaring at the bust like if she did so hard enough, her irritation would convey to whatever afterlife the woman ended up in.

“For the gold, clearly.”  Astarion chuckled.  “Which is now free for the taking.”

Gale scoffed.  “I don’t think we should focus on picking up random bits of coin.”

“Why not?”  Tav asked turning towards him,  “It shouldn’t take long, and gods know we will need it to buy food by the time we get out of this awful place.”

Karlach nodded.  “Might be a few bits and bobs we could use floating around here too – never know.”

“I suppose I can’t argue that.”  Gale said reluctantly.

“And of course, finder’s keepers.”  Astarion added, rubbing his hands together.

Tav rolled her eyes.  “No, we all agreed at the goblin camp to split finds like this evenly with everyone.”

“Ugh, of course you have to be noble about it.”  Astarion groaned.

[kelyon]

Courtship 13: Invitations

After a fight at home, Miss French takes refuge at Mr. Gold's house

Read on AO3

When Miss French got back to the store after her visit with Mr. Gold, Moe was behind the counter with the phone pressed against his ear and a stack of orders in his hand. 

“It’s gonna be how much?” he said into the phone. “God, what was it last year?” 

As he listened to the answer, she lurked in the back room to eavesdrop. 

“Listen, Larsen, I’m kind of in a bad spot right now. Is there any way you can help me out? For old time’s sake?”

Lacey bit the inside of her mouth. Dad was on the phone with their flower supplier. Did they not have enough money to buy the flowers they would need to sell on Valentine’s day?

“Yeah, it’s not the same without Linda. She was such a wiz with accounting and…” He trailed off, listened to what Larsen was saying. “I appreciate it, I really do. Yeah, of course I’ll pay you back. Alright, you’ve got all the numbers? If you have to short me on roses, try to add in more baby’s breath and filler, okay? I can make do with that.  Alright. See you next week.”

Dad hung up the phone and sighed. His shoulders slumped. Lacey moved toward him, but he didn’t turn around.

“Larsen able to get you a discount?”

“Deferred payment,” he said hollowly. “A week or two, until I can get it all together. Larsen’s a good man. He won’t take money until we have money.” Moe’s eyes shifted to her. “Unlike some people.”

Miss French clenched her jaw and headed for the stairs. “I need to go change, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“You dress up for him?” Moe asked before she could leave. “You put on a little song and dance? Be a trained monkey for his amusement?”

Spinning on her heel, Miss French glared at the florist. “If you want to know what I do to amuse Mr. Gold, I’d be happy to tell you.” She put the bite in her words. He had to know she wasn’t fucking around.

Moe stared at her. His eyes were placid, but his lip curled. “Your aunt called,” he said. “While you were out amusing him. She wants to know if you can drive her and Chloe to some doctor’s appointment on Friday.”

Lacey frowned. “Dr. Hopper?”

“She didn’t say. Does Chloe need a shrink?”

“Janine said she was acting out at school or something. Apparently having her brother and father die on the same day has been kind of a problem.”

 Moe shook his head. 

“I’ll call Aunt Terri back,” she said. “Did you… tell her anything?”

“Don’t you think she’s suffered enough?” Moe asked. “No, I didn’t mention what you’ve been up to. You should, though. You should look that grieving widow in the eye and tell her you’re selling your body for fancy clothes.”

“And jewelry!” The spiteful enthusiasm came instantly. The future Mrs. Gold smiled brightly and raised her left hand, showing off her engagement ring. “It’s official now. We’ve already set a date.”

Moe swallowed. His face went pale. His eyes went sad. “It’s not too late,” he mumbled. “You can stop this madness, Lacey. You don’t have to be like this.”

“I want to be like this,” she told him as she sauntered up the stairs. “It’s better than anything else I could be.” 

****

She didn’t really talk to her father again until the next night. There was finally enough work to keep them both busy in their separate areas of the store. After closing time on Monday, she headed to Modern Fashions and got some more clothes to wear for Mr. Gold. Dresses and skirts, blouses and shoes, earrings and necklaces and bracelets. Then she spent the rest of the night in her room putting outfits together. There was no conversation, so there were no arguments.

On Tuesday, after she closed up the store, she found Moe cleaning off the kitchen table. He had a pile of mail stacked up, and enough junk mail to fill up the trash can. Two months’ worth. They hadn’t eaten at the table since the funeral. 

“We expecting company?”

“Your uncle.” Moe didn’t look up. “He’s gonna come over and make pizza.”

Lacey frowned. When she was a kid, Uncle Manny’s pizza nights were a special occasion, a celebration for birthdays or when her report card had all A’s. Now it seemed suspiciously wholesome. She hadn’t talked to Manny since last week when she had confessed to dating Mr. Gold. Until recently, he had been the only person who knew. Probably he was coming over for the express purpose of talking her out of being with him. 

This was gonna suck.

She went to her room to change out of her work clothes. She put on dress slacks and one of her old blouses. That used to be the most formal outfit she had, what she wore for awards banquets and scholarship interviews. It wasn’t good enough to wear for Mr. Gold, but it reminded Miss French of the person she could hope to be. Better than jeans, at least.

“Bonjour, Frenches!” Uncle Manny’s voice boomed out from the kitchen.

In spite of herself, Lacey smiled. If she was ten or even fifteen, that greeting would have had her bounding down the hallway to leap into her uncle’s arms. Now, she walked. She found him hanging up his coat and stomping the snow off his boots. Plastic bags of pizza supplies were already on the table, including a ball of risen dough in a Tupperware container. 

“Hey there, Ace!” He opened his arms to hug her. 

She accepted the embrace, albeit a little stiffly. As much as she loved Uncle Manny, she was still bracing herself. 

“I’m making your favorite tonight,” he smiled. “Pepper-pepperoni. And if you're good, I might add some pepper to it too. Pepper-pepper-pepperoni!”

She tried to smile back. She really tried. 

To distract herself from her own dread, she took the drinks her uncle had brought and put them in the fridge. It was a six-pack of beer from him and Moe, and a can of Moxie soda for her. Because she was a child and always would be.

Miss French sighed. She sat down at the table. At the very least, they could have this conversation while Moe was sulking in the living room. 

Manny didn’t notice her mood. He spread out the pizza dough on a baking sheet while the oven preheated. 

“So, how are the flowers?”

“Fine,” she said. “How are the cars?”

“Broken but fixable. That’s how I like ‘em.”

She didn’t respond. The silence between them seemed to fill the entire room. Even the noise of the TV was muffled and distant. 

Uncle Manny looked at her hand, at her ring. He swallowed.

“Wow,” he said, obviously trying to keep his cheer up. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Dad didn’t already tell you?” she said archly. “I imagine you two talk about me a lot.”

He gave her a look, which she returned with determination. Yes, they were doing this. She wouldn’t pretend anymore. 

He started spreading spaghetti sauce on the pizza dough. “Come on, Lace” He kept his eyes on his work. “Be reasonable. My brother calls me up at three in the morning in a blind panic because he doesn’t know where you are. He thinks you’re dead in a ditch somewhere and you think I’m not gonna tell him where you might be?”

“I asked you not to tell him.”

“And I asked you to take care of yourself.” Cheese next, sprinkled gently over the sauce. Then he started layering pepperoni and sliced green peppers. “Do you think you were being careful, spending the night at that man’s house?”

“I was taking care of myself. I was getting what I needed.”

“What you wanted, maybe.” He sighed. “But you don’t need him. You’re better than that. You deserve better than that.”

“Yeah, but can I get better than that? Now? In Storybrooke?” She held up her hands in helpless defeat. “Mr. Gold is the richest man in town. That makes him the best. And don’t I ‘deserve’ the best?”

“Of course you do, Lacey,” Uncle Manny said. He slid the raw pizza into the oven and twisted the knob on an egg timer. Then he turned around. “But he’s not it. All the money in the world won’t make up for being with someone who doesn’t respect you, doesn’t love you. And married? Lacey, that’s a huge step.”

“What else do I have? What else can I do with my life that isn’t working at the freaking flower shop?”

“Anything! Lace, you’re so smart. You always have been. Big hair and big brains, you know that’s the French family way.”

“Yeah, that’s why you’re a mechanic and Moe’s a failing business owner.”

“Hey,” he warned. “That’s out of line. There’s nothing shameful in working with your hands.”

“Is there shame in marrying a man rich enough that you don’t have to work?”

“There is when that man is Gold. Jesus, Ace. I shouldn’t have to explain this to you.”

“Guess I’m not as smart as you think I am.”

“Lacey.”

She slammed her palms on the table. “I have been engaged for two days and I am already sick of defending myself to people who should be happy for me!”

“If this was something to be happy about, we would be, Lacey. I promise.”

“Like you promised not to tell Dad I was dating him?”   

“Like I promised to love you, no matter how much you drive me crazy! Are you gonna get that promise from Gold? Do you honestly think he’ll be a good husband to you?”

“He’s what I want,” she snarled. “I know who he is. I know what I’m getting. I know him better than you do! So will you fucking trust me to make a decision?”

He looked at her, his dark eyebrows furrowed. He looked at her like she was a stranger or some kind of alien. His favorite niece had mutated into a bizarre creature he could never understand.

“I love you,” Uncle Manny said quietly. “All of us love you. All we want is for you to be safe and happy.”

“I’m safer with him than I am in the house of freezing showers and spoiled milk.”

“I thought your dad said he got the hot water fixed.”

Miss French rolled her eyes. “He didn’t fix it. Mr. Gold bought a new one and hired men to replace it.” 

“And now we know why.” Moe stood in the doorway. “He did it to look good in front of you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “He did it because he takes care of his property, which this building is.” 

“Uh-huh,” Moe sneered. “Yeah, I’m sure the building was the property that bastard was taking care of.” 

“Moe, come on--”

“Did she tell you?” He cut Manny off. “Did she tell you that he gives her money? Bastard fines me fifty dollars a day for late rent, then gives it to her for clothes and jewelry.”

Manny looked at her. “Tell me that’s not true, Ace.”

Miss French bit down on the inside of her mouth so hard she began to taste blood. “He’s gonna be my husband,” she said softly. “If I’m gonna be Mrs. Gold, I’ve gotta dress the part.”

Uncle Manny swore softly through his teeth. “It’s not worth it, honey,” he said. “Whatever he’s giving you, it won’t be worth what he takes from you.”

She pressed her lips together. Her eyes burned. Over the pounding of blood in her ears, she heard the pizza timer go ding!

Miss French stood up.

“I can’t do this,” she declared to the florist and the mechanic. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to you two insult me and the man I’m going to marry. You don’t have to be happy for me. You don’t have to approve. In fact, you don’t have to do anything for me ever again!” 

Before either man could respond, Miss French threw open the kitchen door and ran down the stairs. With tears in her eyes, she ran from the place that used to be her home.

****

Her intention had been to run the entire way to Mr. Gold’s house. Mentally, she had enough pent-up anguish to run from Maine to Florida and back again. Physically, the cold air pummeled her lungs and she was gasping before she reached the end of the street. 

She had left without a coat, hat, or gloves. It was only by lucky chance that she was wearing shoes at the time she started running. Even then, these were her old  slip-on loafers, the soles thin with wear. Her toes were already numb. Snow bit sharply at her face and ears. There was an inch on the sidewalk and more coming down. Well, at least there would be tracks if those jerks wanted to chase after her.

They wouldn’t bother. Moe would say it serves her right and Manny would go along with whatever his big brother told him. She wiped dampness from her cheeks, hot tears mixed with freezing snow.   

****

Holding her arms over her chest, she trudged into the good part of Old Town, to the biggest mansion on the block. When she pushed the button for the doorbell, she couldn’t feel her fingers.

It took a moment for Mr. Gold to answer. He stayed on the other side of his stained glass, until he saw that it was her. Then he opened the door.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I don’t mean to intrude, I just--I don’t want to be there anymore. Can I come in?”

He didn’t speak. His warm hand gripped around her arm as he pulled her inside. 

“Stay on the tile,” he instructed. “Can’t have you dripping all over the hardwood.”

Sniffling, Miss French nodded. She stayed where she was, a little rectangle of a landing in front of the door. The snow melted quickly in the warmth of Mr. Gold’s house. Icy water soaked through fabric and flesh and down into her bones.

“You need to get out of those things,” he said. “You can put your shoes over a heating vent to dry them out. I’ll take everything else.”

“I--” Miss French looked over her shoulder at the door. Wide panes of clear glass exposed her to the street outside. There was no one around, but you never knew. She couldn’t undress here. Anyone might see her.

“Do it,” Mr. Gold ordered. “Or go back outside.”

She nodded and began to kick off her shoes. “Yes, Mr. Gold.”

Leaning on his cane in the middle of his hall, he watched her strip down. There was nothing sexy about it, at least not to Lacey. She was shivering and numb. Her skin had gone bright red from the cold. Her hair was wet and bedraggled. Mr. Gold wanted her pretty, but now she looked like a frozen, drowned rat.

“Good girl,” he said when she was done. He held out his hand. “Now give me those rags.”

She wadded up the sopping mess that used to be her best outfit and gave it to him. He held the bundle out, well away from his suit, then headed back into the dark interior of his house. Lacey stayed on the tile, alone and exposed and still very cold. She got as far away from the door as she could, standing to the side in an awkward half-crouch. Her arms wrapped over her chest, half to keep warm and half to keep covered.

Mr. Gold was gone for a long time. Where had he gone in this massive house? What was he doing with her clothes? The most likely possibility was that he was throwing her wet things in the dryer and maybe finding her something else to wear. Did Mr. Gold even have a dryer in his house? Or did he get everything dry cleaned and professionally laundered? Was it crazy that she was going to marry this man and she didn’t know how he did his laundry? That she hadn’t been in most of the rooms of his house?

Were Dad and Uncle Manny right? Was Lacey making a mistake?

“Here we are.” Mr. Gold was back. Under his arm, he held a towel and a folded blanket. He wrapped the towel around her shoulders and handed her the blanket to carry. Then he took her hand and led her into his study.

It looked like he had just got up from working. There was a lamp lit on the desk--one of those things with a green lamp shade like in movies--and a leather-bound book with lines of numbers written in it. Mr. Gold sat down in the rolling chair and picked up his pen.

“Get me a whisky, then warm yourself up by the fire.”

Mutely, Miss French nodded. Dressed in nothing but a towel, she went over to Mr. Gold’s bar and poured out a tumbler of Johnnie Walker Blue. The ritual of it calmed her, but there wasn’t the same joy in serving him as when she’d done this before. She felt hollow inside, as numb from emotions as she was from the cold. Even when Mr. Gold patted her ass approvingly, she only felt tired.

Mr. Gold seemed to notice. He turned his chair to look at her.

“Spread the blanket out on the ground in front of the fireplace,” he ordered. “You’re going to start on your knees.”

“Yes, Mr. Gold,” she whispered. She did as he said. His order was the only clear thought in her mind.

“You interrupted my work,” he said gently. “I have to finish this before I can play with you.”

Lacey shook her head. “I didn’t come here for--”

“I know,” he said. “But the point stands. If you’re going to be here, you’re going to do as I say.”

“Yes, Mr. Gold.” 

“Look at the fire. Use the towel to dry your hair. Wrap yourself in the blanket if you need to, but don’t move from that spot until I tell you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Gold.”

****

Feeling came back to her slowly. Kneeling on the blanket, she rubbed her arms roughly with the towel, to get her blood moving. She thought she had read to do that in a book once. It felt good, so she kept it up. She covered her face with the dark blue towel, breathed hot air into it, let the heat wash over her. She squeezed out her hair and tried to rub it down so it would dry right. Horrible to think of Mr. Gold seeing what she looked like without conditioner. 

He didn’t talk to her. He was absorbed in whatever bookkeeping was in that ledger. Was it accounts for the shop or his rental properties or the personal loans he gave out? Or was he working on those other deals? People talked about them sometimes. The deals that weren’t about money, but about favors. 

Miss French didn’t know anyone who had one of those deals. According to rumor, you had to be closer to power and influence to get one of them. It made sense. If all you had was a little money every month, that was all he could take. But if you could make decisions--if you were on City Council or in the county courthouse or even at the hospital--then Mr. Gold could ask you to do things for him. Big things. And that power enabled him to do big things for other people. That was how the universe of Storybrooke spun, with everything revolving around him.

And she was going to be his wife!

Flames danced in the fireplace. Shadow and light played over her naked skin. She was warmer now, though she kept the blanket over her shoulders. It was made of wool, rough and itchy in the best way. Squares of brown and green and orange criss-crossed over each other in that Scottish plaid pattern. What was it called? 

Tartan.  

Miss French wrapped Mr. Gold’s tartan tightly around her naked body. He had given this to her. It was thick and warm and probably pretty expensive. She hadn’t thought about what kind of comfort she expected to get when she ran away to Mr. Gold’s house. Sure wasn’t just a blanket and a fire and a man who ignored her in favor of his paperwork. But it was better to have this than nothing. Better to be here in this peaceful silence than to endure the stilted conversation and barbed comments she’d get if she’d stayed at Game of Thorns. 

In time, the scratch of Mr. Gold’s pen faded into silence. His chair didn’t squeak, but she could hear him turning around. She stayed where she was, looking at the fire like he had ordered her to.

“Can you take the blanket off?”

She didn’t answer, except to let the tartan wool fall from her shoulders onto the ground. She straightened up a little, getting properly on her knees, showing off her breasts, but she kept her eyes focused on the fire. 

“That’s very nice,” Mr. Gold said softly. “You really are a pretty thing, you know that?”

She licked her lips. “Thank you, Mr. Gold.”

He stood up, walked behind her. He put his hand on her shoulder, then pressed his thumb into her back, where he had flogged her. It hurt, but she didn’t look away from the fire.

“You still have a bruise here,” he said. “You bruise like a fresh peach, don’t you my dear?”

“If you say so, Mr. Gold.”

“But you don’t need me to bruise you tonight, do you? No, you’ve already been through quite the little ordeal.”

Miss French nodded.

Mr. Gold moved to his plush leather armchair. “The last time we spoke,” he said. “I instructed you not to touch yourself. Have you been following my orders?”

“Yes, Mr. Gold.”

“Have you wanted to disobey me? Have you been tempted?”

She shook her head. “No, I really haven’t, Mr. Gold.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been--well--satisfied, Mr. Gold. You’ve taken excellent care of me in that area.”

She wasn’t allowed to look at him. She couldn’t see if he enjoyed the compliment. 

“Very well then,” he said. “If you don’t need relief, I won’t force you to take it tonight. But the order still stands, and if you do disobey me, I will be quite displeased.” He made a low sound of arousal. “I’m waiting for the day when I’ll need to really punish you, my slut. I want to see if there are limits to the things you can take pleasure in.”

“Well, I don’t like walking through a snowstorm,” she half-joked.

“Yes,” Mr. Gold said. “What happened?”

Lacey tried to find the words. “It was-- My dad-- My uncle--” She shook her head, started again. “What if they’re right? What if we shouldn’t get married?”

Mr. Gold was silent for a moment. Then he ordered, “Come here, silly thing. Come sit at my feet.”

Crawling on her hands and knees, Miss French left the blanket behind and took refuge by Mr. Gold’s knees. He leaned forward and held her by the shoulders. He lifted her chin up to look him in the eye.

“I chose you,” he said. “I want you. I am not in the habit of letting the opinions of lesser people get in the way of what I want.”

“What if they’re right?” she repeated. “What if this is a disaster?”

“Don’t be absurd.” He stroked her hair. “Do you think I would willingly engage in a disaster waiting to happen? Do you think I don’t know what I’m doing, Miss French?” 

There was an edge of warning in his voice, just an edge. She understood the implication, that she was insulting him by questioning his judgment. He had asked her to marry him, so of course he thought it was the best choice for both of them. The opinions of lesser people didn’t matter.

Was she a lesser person, in his eyes? Would her opinion be enough to dissuade him, if she had to press the issue? Could Lacey French actually say no to Mr. Gold? Did she want to?

“I know this is stupid,” she said. “I do want to marry you, really, I do--”

“Good.” Mr. Gold cut her off before she could say more. “That’s all you need to think about. You want this, I want this. It’s going to happen. Nothing else matters.”

Miss French opened her mouth, then shut it. It was all so simple when Mr. Gold said things. He had no questions, no doubts. She had to remember that. Nothing else mattered. 

He held her chin in his hand, rubbed his thumb over her lips. She parted them, in case he wanted to gag her. He just grinned. 

“Go to the desk,” he ordered. “I have something for you.”

“May I walk?”

“Yes, you may.”

Miss French stood up. Her legs were less wobbly than they had been other times she’d knelt for him. Maybe she was getting the hang of this.

In the top right-hand drawer of Mr. Gold’s desk, she found a long, white, paper box. It wasn’t heavy when she picked it up, but it was definitely full of something. There was also a notepad of yellow paper with a line drawn up and down the center. On one side of the line, the paper was filled with names written in ink. The other side was blank.

She brought both things to Mr. Gold.

“What are these?”

“Open the box.”

She knelt on the ground and lifted the lid off the box. It was full of paper--no, envelopes. A long row of envelopes, all lined up standing on their ends. There was one on top of all the others, lying down. It was blank on the outside, but inside there was a card. A single sheet of heavy white paper. In neat letters and swirling script, it read:

Mr. Gold 

Requests the honor of your presence

At a reception celebrating his marriage to 

Miss French

At Dodici’s Dance Hall

February the twelfth at seven o’clock in the evening

Black tie optional

 “Oh,” Miss French said softly. She looked down at the box, at the hundred or so other envelopes inside. “You got invitations printed.”

Mr. Gold nodded. 

“Isn’t this really close to the wedding day? Will people have time to prepare? I mean, it’s Valentine’s Day weekend, every couple will have plans.”

“They’ll come,” he said. “Every one of them. I give a hint that I want something and people come running to offer it. They think it will make things easier for them next time they want something from me.”

“Oh,” she said again.

“The printer will address the invitations once we give them a guest list.” He gestured to the notepad. “I’ve filled out my side.”

She began to read the list of names on yellow paper. “These are the most important people in Storybrooke.” It shouldn’t surprise her, but it did. “You--you’ve got Mayor Mills on here!” Miss French looked up at Mr. Gold. “Do you really think she’ll come?”

Mr. Gold gave her an indulgent smile. “The Mayor and I have worked together for many years on various occasions. Lord knows she’s dragged me to enough fundraisers and social functions. She owes it to me to come to my wedding.”

“Even she owes you something?” Miss French shook her head in disbelief. “Wow.”

As she read down the list, she recognized names of doctors and lawyers, even the District Attorney. All of these people would come running to make Mr. Gold happy.

“You’ve got Sean Herman’s parents on here.” At Mr. Gold’s inquiring look, she explained. “I went to high school with him. And--oh. You’ve got my ex-boyfriend’s family too.”

“Which one is that?”

She pointed at the line. “Richard ‘Big Dick’ Duke, and his lovely wife Karen.” 

“Ah,” Mr. Gold said. “Yes, Mr. Duke is an important man in the local bar association. It would be a snub if I didn’t invite him, but--”

“Oh I don’t mind,” Miss French said. “In fact, I want the Dukes to be there. All those rich New Town people thought girls like me weren’t good enough to hang out with their sons.” The image flashed in her mind of Ashley Boyd, pregnant and crying, in love with a boy who cared more about his parents’ approval than her desperation. “I want them to see me married to a man who’s ten times better than any of them.”

Mr. Gold grinned. “Are you talking about the boys or the families?”

“Both,” she said firmly. “Put together. You’re better than all of them.”

He reached down and held her chin. “I don’t normally care for flattery, my dear, but in this case, that is a clear-eyed assessment of facts.” 

“And you want me?” she asked. “A girl like me? An Old Town charity case? You want to marry me?”

“I do. That’s why I suggested it.”

“Because you see potential in me.”

“Yes.”

Other questions ran through her head. Questions like Why? and Does that mean you like me? She let them go unasked. Mr. Gold was a man for whom words were obfuscation and only actions were real. His deeds bore out his desires. He had set a date. He had rented a hall and printed invitations. He was going to marry her. That was what mattered. Intent was meaningless.

He stood up from his chair. “I imagine your clothes are done drying,” he said. He took a pencil from one of the desk drawers and handed it to her. “Write down who you want to invite. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Yes, Mr. Gold.”

****

It was a shockingly short list. Partially, that was the lack of extended family. If the Frenches and the Woolvertons were more prolific in having children, she could have filled out the notepad with more aunts and uncles and cousins. It was also hard to think of anyone who had been her friend in high school who was still relevant to her now. And it wasn’t like she had coworkers.

In the end, Miss French’s contributions to the invite list amounted to four lines: Her father, Uncle Manny, Aunt Terri with Janine and Chloe, and Mara with her mother Irma. Those were all the people she had in this world. Three less than there were this time last year. 

When Mr. Gold came back, she offered him the notepad and took the stack of her clothes. He read over her additions and nodded to himself. He sat down at his desk and put the notepad back in the drawer.

“Very good,” he said. “They should all be able to fit at one table.”

Miss French sat on the floor, the blanket draped around her legs. Her hands were folded neatly over the warm stack of equally neatly folded laundry. “Um,” she said.

“Yes?”

“Are you going to have a best man?”

He shook his head. “It won’t be necessary. City Hall isn’t well-equipped for a large ceremony.”

“Oh.” Miss French bit her lip.

Mr. Gold’s mouth twisted into a grin. “We’re not going to get very far if you’re too afraid to ask me for something when you want it.”

Her face went hot. “Sorry. I--I was just wondering… if I could have bridesmaids?”

His grin deepened, became indulgent and fond. “Of course you may,” he said. “You want your friends to be with you on your wedding day, how could I refuse you that?”

She smiled shakily. Of course, Janine and Mara didn’t know she was getting married in two Saturdays. But their weekly lunch was tomorrow, she could tell them then.

“In fact,” Mr. Gold reached for his wallet, pulled out a wad of fifties. “I want you to make sure your companions are dressed appropriately and otherwise taken care of.”

Miss French looked at the money. “Really?”

“Yes,” he said. “Your family is important to you. Why shouldn’t they benefit from your excellent taste in husbands?” 

It sat on her tongue to talk about her father and his rent problems. Would he be less of an asshole if he didn’t have the threat of eviction hanging over his head? Though it did seem unlikely that Mr. Gold would kick out his future father-in-law, if only just as a favor to her. Would Dad take money from Mr. Gold? Would he accept any kind of reprieve on the rent or waived fees? Or would he refuse? Was Moe French stubborn enough to lose his home and his business rather than take generosity that only existed because his daughter was a whore?

Miss French sighed.

Mr. Gold cocked his head at her. “You’re not any better than when you came in here.”

She shrugged. “I’m warmer at least. And my clothes are dry. Thank you for that, Mr. Gold.”

He raised his hand in dismissal. “A fair price to pay for getting to look at you all evening.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t in the mood for more.”

He shook his head. “If I wanted anything, I would have gotten you in the mood for it. Which reminds me…” Turning in his desk chair, he picked up the phone and dialed some numbers. Then he turned back to her, grinning.

It had to be almost ten by now. Who was Mr. Gold calling? 

His first words answered her question.

“Whale? This is Gold. I need you to call in a prescription for birth control. … Of course not for me. It’s for Miss French. Yes, that Miss French. … Why do you think? … No, that won’t be necessary. I want her to be able to pick it up tomorrow afternoon.” After a moment of listening, Mr. Gold lowered the receiver and asked her, “You don’t have any medical conditions, do you? Are you already on any medications?”

She shook her head. 

“And not a smoker?”

“No, Mr. Gold.”

He turned his attention back to Dr. Whale. “No, nothing like that. Anything else?” He listened. “Fine, fine. I’ll make an appointment with your office in the morning. Just make sure she can start taking something as soon as possible.”

The tinny sound of the doctor’s voice was still blathering as Mr. Gold hung up.

“I’ll give you money so you can go to the pharmacy tomorrow afternoon.”

Lacey gaped at him. “You just… decided I need to be on birth control?”

“Well, you’re not going to get pregnant, and condoms are as much of a nuisance as any impatient boy will say they are. And while I enjoy using your other holes, I want every part of you to be open to me, at all times.”

Arousal seeped into her shock and confusion. All she could do was stare at him.

“You didn’t want children, did you?”

She blinked. “I… I never thought about it before. I mean, I always assumed I’d have a family, at some point.”

“If that is your goal, you’ll have to meet it with the help of someone else.”

“Yeah, I--I mean… It doesn’t matter more to me than you do, Mr. Gold. I guess I just didn’t think I’d have to make the decision so soon.”

“It’s not your decision,” he said gently. “I’m not letting you get pregnant with my child. And if you conceive with someone else, I would call that immediate grounds for divorce. Is that unreasonable?”

“I guess not.”

It really wasn’t. That was how things were with Mr. Gold. His life was already established. His house, his habits, his work--these things were set in stone. If Miss French was going to be a part of it all, she would have to fit in with what already existed. A baby would upend everything and Mr. Gold didn’t want that. Not getting pregnant was just another rule she would have to follow if she was going to be good enough for him.

“Yes, you’re right,” Miss French said confidently. “Thank you for making it clear to me, Mr. Gold.”  

He gave her a nod and an inscrutable expression. “Stand up,” he ordered.

She obeyed, leaving her clothes and the blanket on the floor. She stood with her hands out to the side a little, a halfhearted display of her wares to the man who was buying her fifty dollars at a time. 

“You should dress.”

“Yes, Mr. Gold.”

She put on her bra and had just finished pulling up her underwear when Mr. Gold told her to stop.

“Come here,” he said. 

She stood in front of him and he put his hands on her hips. The heat of him steadied her. If he had started this evening by touching her, maybe she wouldn’t have been so unsure. She was sure now. Sure of her purpose, sure of his desire, sure that somehow everything would work out.

Mr. Gold poked his finger against a patch of skin revealed by a hole near the waist of her underwear. “What is this?”

Miss French looked down. “Oh, sometimes they rip when you pull up too hard.” She shrugged. “I would have worn something better if I had known I was coming over.”

“Do you think this is acceptable for my fiancee to wear at any time?”

“I…” Of course she had never thought about it. “No, Mr. Gold. It’s not acceptable.”

He shook his head and tutted. With one hand still gripping the hole, he pulled open a desk drawer and brought out a long, sharp pair of scissors.

Lacey blinked. Her heartbeat sped up, just a little. “What are you going to do with those?” 

“Correct the situation,” he said. 

Then the hand on her underwear began to pull. The fabric--thin with wear and a thousand washings--came apart easily in his hands. The sound of ripping all but echoed in the quiet study. Miss French just stood there, as her fiance tore apart an article of her clothing. He turned her around to get to her other side. Faded white fabric hung in tatters from the elastic waistband, clinging together only at the seams. 

He used the scissors on the seams. Cold, slick metal slid against her skin. She felt the movement of the blades coming together to cut these rags off her body. Her breath shook. Heat flooded her. Mr. Gold picked the scraps up off the floor and dropped them in a trash can. 

He patted her somewhere between her thighs and her ass. Her flank, maybe, though that was usually a word only used for horses.

“Go finish dressing,” he instructed her.

Miss French obeyed on wobbly feet. She pulled her slacks up over her naked cunt and tried to pretend that was normal. But it wasn’t normal and that was the whole point. That was why she loved it.

“I think it might be harder not to masturbate after that,” she said as she pulled her blouse over her head.

“Good,” Mr. Gold stood up. “That was the idea. There’s no discipline in not doing something you don’t want to do.”

He came close to her. For the first time since she came into the study, they were both standing, facing each other. His arm wrapped around her waist. His hand squeezed her ass through the thin fabric of her dress slacks. He kissed her--softly, gently, and for a long time.

“You’ve been through a lot today,” he informed her. “I want you to be good to yourself. Buy yourself a little something tomorrow.”

“I’ve been buying myself a lot of things lately.” 

“And don’t you like it?” He kissed her neck, just behind her ear. “Don’t you want more?”  

“The only thing I want more of is you, Mr. Gold.”

“Ah, you should have told me that an hour ago.” He kissed her a few more times, but kept his hands on her upper arms. “As it is now, you need to get to bed.”

She looked at the ground. Part of her hoped for another night in his bed, but that didn’t seem to be in the cards. “You’re going to send me back out there?”

“Not at all, dearie, I am a gentleman. I’ll drive you.”

[quirkwizard]

Hello Mr. Wiz I'm a big fan of your work right now as you can tell so I was scrolling and I found this Quirk that made my heart drop. It's your Quirk Blitz! The Quirk is very versatile and I like it!!! Could you maybe expand your Quirk Blitz with evolution, equipment, hero costume, training and Super Moves? For the costume let me guess, something similar to a Gundam? That would be cool as hell. Keep up the good work! Truth be told whenever I want to read something I just go here and read so sooner or later I might just have read all of your works so don't slack off! (Im kidding) Anyways hope you're doing alright!

Thank you, I'm glad that one of my Quirks has gave you such a positive reaction and my blog has given you something enjoyable to read. I hope that you enjoy this as well. And no need to worry, I am taking care of myself.

For "Blitz", support equipment could be a suit where the user could store the bits in and around. Not only could it give them an easy place to deploy them, but it could also let them apply the cannons to themselves to hover and fly by firing out the beams. Plus, that would fit right in with the whole mecha inspiration. Training would involve the user learning to practice with them on various moving targets, improving their aim and control over the drones. They would keep doing this until they drained their energy, working to improve their reserves and trying to get them to reform faster. Aside from improvements to the energy reserves and power of the beams, evolutions could have the user transfer energy through the bits. This could work to redirect the attacks, like chain attacks through the bits to hit a target, and focus all the energy on a single bit for bigger blasts. Super Moves could be various formations of the bits, such as having them circle around someone, raining them down on people from above, or bunching them together for one massive attack. hiding them in places to snipe people, or simply put them under something to launch it at another person if you want to be direct.

[lostonehero]

I'm inspired. Thanks for the comments. Here's more YouTube scooped Micheal

"Ok, questions, and remember all donations go to the hospital Jeremy works out. Again, this is a charity live stream, so I won't make anything off of this." Micheal leans back watching Jeremy smile, and his uncle works on a new cane.

Henry hums. "I'm happy to help out, even if I'm focused on a new project." He chuckles. "My sister asked me to make her a cane, honestly surprised it took her this long to need one." He pauses. "Not to mean anything by that, Jen, you've always been stronger than I have."

Jeremy chuckles. "Nice save, there, Mr. Emily."

Micheal pauses watching comments wiz by. "Oh, Uncle Henry, they want to know if they can meet your sister."

"Meet Jen?" Henry pauses, putting his knife down. "I mean, if she is free. I'm not going to speak for her. She will be coming up north soon enough with her own boy." He hums.

Micheal nods. "Aunt Jen is different, but I like that she isn't scared of me like Aunt Margaret, or her kids and grandkids. Her son is nice as well, but he does ask a lot of questions."

Jeremy gasps. "Ooo, this is a good one. Micheal, will you film at the hospital?"

"I mean, I would have to get a lot of consent. I could do a little video with the kids, but they would have to agree to it. I wouldn't mind filming in public, but I already get looks enough as is." Micheal shrugs. "I also rather not do full makeup again. It's too time-consuming and partially blinds me."

"Nobody is asking you to do that." Jeremy chuckles. "However, I like you the way you are. Also, when Micheal turns around, you can see I fixed his ass, I mean not really because of clothes, but I fixed the tears and his back too. Maybe with enough donations, I can show you guys what I fixed and added to him."

"Jeremy! First off children watch me." Micheal huffs.

"So? It's not like you have anything lewd left." Jeremy waves his hands when Micheal hits him. "But still, it could encourage people to donate."

Micheal sighs. "It is a good cause... but not with Uncle Henry here. I don't think he has recovered from the mouse incident."

Henry sighs. "I rather you not bring that up, Micheal." He pauses his carving. "As long as long as no needles are involved, I'm fine with it."

Jeremy raised his brow. "You afraid of needles Mr. Emily?"

"I am not fond of them." Henry sighs.

Micheal waves. "Enough out of you, Jeremy. Alright, next question, ah, this is for you, Jeremy."

"Oo for me?" Jeremy pulls the screen near him. "Ah, well, that is a question. I'm never going to be fully healed, but I learned to adapt. I'm permanently disabled, but I don't let that stop me. I'm a great nurse though, also never ask a doctor to put a line in they barely handle needles and are terrible at it."

"Good to note if I ever have blood again." Micheal snickers. "Alright let's continue and we'll figure out stretch goals rewards, and again I'm not sending out any of my body because that's gross, and I want to keep what is left kf my original body, ya freaks."

[simsofheritagehills]

"Alright..." the next sim in the circle sighed softly, her gaze drifting to the sky above her.

"My name is Lunete Rinne, and I'm the founder of a Joy of Life Challenge. My dream is to open up my own bakery. Life just isn't worth living without baked goods, frankly. I'm a foodie, outgoing, and high maintenance. My aspiration is Appliance Wiz. I'm not sure whether I actually want to own a bakery building, or just have a stall to sell my goods at. Either way, I'm going to be working hard to unlock townies for that very reason. I mean, since we'll be sharing money until some of us move out it's not like any of you will be able to purchase anything from me, is it? Let's see, is there anything else about me, um... I'm straight, don't want kids in the foreseeable future, and I'm more than a little frustrated that there's no spa in this Watcher forsaken world."

Lunete heaved a deep sigh, before motioning at the sim to her left. "Next."

[bridgyrose]

Dew gets transformed into a doll, and Kale gives her to a little girl so she can be rid of her. The party forces her to go get her back, so Kale has to go pick on a little girl

“I didnt do anything wrong,” Kale mumbled to herself as she was practically yanked down the road through the village. “All I did was return a doll to a little girl-” 

“A doll you knew was Dew!” Granny said sternly. “And now you have to get her back.” 

“First, I dont know where the girl lives, and secondly, she’s done nothing but torment me.” 

“I’ll admit, she was a bit rash with how she treated you when we first met. But you have to give her a chance. She’s given you one.” 

Kale looked away and sighed. “It doesnt feel like it.” 

“Just like the rest of you, she’s still a kid. She’ll learn to be better. But right now, you better start  focusing on finding that little girl that has her.” 

“But I told you I dont-” Kale went quiet when she realized Granny had left just as quickly as she had dragged her out to the village. She sighed and started to look around again. “Alright, where did that kid go?” 

Kale made her way through the village to look for the tiefling girl she gave the doll to, still keeping clear from many of the villagers. She may have gotten used to the looks of distrust they gave her, but the glares still cut through her soul. Not that she blamed them. She would’ve gotten away with robbing them blind had it not been for Wiz and Aranog sitting in the crowd with Dew.

She frowned when she felt her heart ache at the thought of Dew. It wasnt like her to feel sorry for someone who tormented her. In fact, she should’ve been happy that Dew was a doll and who knows where with a child. Then why… Why did she feel the guilt that wracked her heart? Dew was the reason she got caught, the reason she had nightmares of bugs crawling out of her… the reason she was kept here with Granny. 

Once Kale found the girl, she climbed up into a tree to watch her. It felt strange to watch a tiefling child be so happy and free, unburdened by hate or war. She hadnt noticed she lost sight of the doll, only focused on the smile the girl had playing with a toy. It was like watching her own dream being lived out by someone else. 

And then the aching in her heart started to grow. 

Before she knew it, she was digging through her pack for the doll she carried. She slowly pulled it out and ran her fingers along the stitching. It had taken her years to sew it together, a replica of her sister that she kept close. With a heavy sigh, dropped from the tree, doll still in hand, and walked over to the tiefling girl she’d been watching. 

The girl looked up at her. “Its you again.” 

“It is.” Kale looked at the doll and then to the girl again. “I uh… I made a mistake in giving that doll to you. It belongs to a friend of mine and I didnt realize how important it was to her.” 

“But I like it.” 

“I know, but I need that one back. In fact, I’d be willing to trade you for her.” 

The tiefling child looked up at her curiously. “Trade?” 

Kale nodded and offered her own doll to the child. Her fingers trembled as she held it, her eyes starting to water as she spoke. “I’ll trade you the genasi doll for this one. I know its not much, but its time she retired from adventuring with me and to settle down with someone who can take care of her. Someone you can take her on new adventures. And in turn, she’ll protect you from your nightmares, the loneliness that creeps up on you, the monsters under your bed. All because she was made to imitate a talented warrior who wants nothing more than to see people smile.” 

She paused as she watched the child look between the two dolls before finally accepting the trade. When she felt the doll start to leave her hand, she couldnt help but instinctively want to grab hold of the doll. Next to the locket she wore, it was the last memento she had of her sister. A doll she made to keep her sister close. 

Parting with it felt like giving up on seeing Arelle again. 

But as the doll left her fingertips, Kale couldnt help but smile as she watched the girl hug it close. “Take good care of her, okay?” 

The tiefling child nodded and handed over the other doll before running back into the house. 

Kale let out a soft sigh, pocketed the doll, and started to make her way back to Granny’s. She could always make another doll, another memory of Arelle. She would just need to make sure she found the supplies she needed. 

“I see you have Dew back,” Aranog said with a rough voice. “Just tell me you didnt steal her.” 

“Of course not,” Kale answered back. “I traded her a disguised stone. It’ll be a good lesson in disappointment-” 

“That might as well be stealing!” 

“All I was told was to get Dew back, you never told me to be polite about it.” 

“Fine. Just get her back to Granny so she can be fixed.” 

Kale nodded and started to walk off again, waiting until Aranog was out of earshot before whispering to Dew. “I dont know how much you can still get while being a doll, but if you tell *anyone* that I was nice, and I’ll make sure you never have a decent pillow again.” She let out a soft sigh. “But maybe… when you’re back to normal… I can tell you a few stories about Arelle.”