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lazyneonrabbitt · 11 months ago

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Down at the river

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Request: Hello, I love your stories and have an idea for werewolf Daryl. In wolf form, Daryl finds a reader who is swimming in the river and falls in love with her. In human form, he brings her to the group (no matter what time) but he is afraid to tell her about himself without knowing how much the reader has fallen in love with him. Preferably with smut at the end ;) Thanks♡

Down at the river, where the stream split was where people used to find Daryl during the days before and after the full moon. He'd be bathing in his changed form, or fishing to bring back a haul for his community.

But nowadays he spent his time around the area in hiding. Covered by the thick greenery he'd watch the new woman bathe in the river and catch his fish. She had skills he admired, and she was beautiful as well. Her hair down to be washed or up in a bun when just rinsing her body, she was beautiful.

Daryl traveled along with a supply cart between the communities. He was asked to be security because of the increase in walkers lately, but also because multiple carts had been robbed lately.

Daryl kept his eyes and ears open for any noises and caught something getting closer to the cart. It was too subtle for a human to hear, and too calculated to be a walker. He took his crossbow and watched for any movement but whatever it was stayed hidden.

Only when Daryl went to explain what he heard and let his guard down momentarily there was an opening to rush in, slash the tarp and grab whatever was underneath with both hands and running off.

Daryl was quick to grab his crossbow and follow the figure, easily catching up and hauling them up against a tree and watching all the produce fall to the ground.

"Where's yer camp?" Daryl snarled, inches away from your face. His gaze flickering around the area for any sign of backup.

"I swear it's just me. I found a cabin but fish isn't enough to live on.. Please I just want to eat." You raised your hands as much as possible, palms open and empty for the man to see you were harmless. He caught no sense of you lying to him, so he set you back down and handed you a small portion of what you had stolen. "Ya know we got communities. If ya wanna live nicer, try Alexandria." With the leftover produce in his hands and crossbow over his shoulder he turned around to walk away. "I know ya know where it is."

On his way back he couldn't help but flash back to when he saw you in the river. You knew your way around the woods and were a skilled survivor, but he couldn't let all of that make the heat rise in his cheeks.

"Was a lone woman. Left 'er with a warning." Daryl placed the produce back in the cart, clearly less than what was taken. "Some got squashed when she ran 'n dropped it. M'sorry."

Daryl went to find the cabin, locating it with ease and watching from afar. It was a nice place, and surrounded by walker traps. He remembered your complaints about eating just fish, so while you did know how to fish, hunting and animal trapping wasn't something you were familiar with.

Which is why he hunted down some small game and prepped it to leave at your door, boxed in a stupid tupperware box he took from Carol's kitchen.

He waited til the next full moon for you to knock on the community gate, but you never did.

Back in the woods, Daryl went to his usual spot. A giant pile of leaves becoming his base for those nights. A nice bed and a great hiding spot for his stuff. With the nights becoming colder again he didn't want to fish, opting for hunting instead. He ate his fill and trodged back to the place he'd call his bed for the night, quickly dozing off covered in yellow leaves.

That same night, at the cabin not far off you rested, unable to fall asleep with the lack of thick blankets. Tossing and turning and groaning in frustration you sat up, remembering the giant pile of fallen leaves a short walk away. You thought of stuffing the ratty duvet cover and making a thicker blanket that way and set off to where you had seen it.

Upon arrival you found.. something else as well. At the base of the pile laid a creature, covered partially under a golden blanket. 'Looks like we had the same idea.' The thought came and went as you stared at the large bear.

No, not a bear. Its shapes weren't bearlike.

You scanned the animal's features and got hit by a realisation like a truck. The creature in front of you bared a scar over its eye. Just like that man who let you have that food after you stole from his people. The greying fur indicated his older age too. It matched up perfectly. The long shaggy fur now looked entirely black in the small bits of moonlight passing through the trees, but you bet it was that same dark brown from your memories.

You ditched the plan of taking the leaves, as to not wake up the sleeping beast and turned back home to your cabin.

Despite the night's cold temperature you eventually passed out and slept til late in the morning.

By the time you went to head out, pushing open the cabin door you felt it hit something, shoving it along.

A quick look around the door showed a small wild boar, its throat cut and seemingly drained. But it looked clean aside from the rope burns around its leg. You took the boar inside and stashed it away, giving a quick glance at the plastic tub that held the other animals last time with a fond smile. Your mind wandered to the man who so kindly let you keep the food even after you stole from his people. You were convinced he was bringing you the animals and it warmed your heart.

Were you catching feelings for him?

Shrugging it off you went to set out into the woods to do your daily gatherings, sneaking along the area where you saw him sleep last night, but not finding anything that indicated he had been there besides the leaf pile being a mess. Your trip was ended quickly now that you didn't need to hunt or fish, so you decided to make the extra trip back to the leaf pile with your blanket cover after all.

The amount of walkers in the area increased quickly. It was like they were swarming in from all sides. Daryl had noticed it too. It wasn't safe for him anymore to sleep in the woods during full moons. His mind kept wandering to you, and went by the cabin a few times but never caught you there. He couldn't afford to camp around your home with his community needing food stockpiled if it got too bad outside the walls. He had to keep up the supply and needed to hunt.

It was late at night after two weeks of daily trap checking and hauling back food for his people when he was being summoned to the gate.

"This woman claims to know you, but not by name." Deanna's voice was stern, not trusting the stranger at her side.

Daryl gave you a once over and nodded, "yeah. Seen 'er out there. Traded food once or twice." It was cler you were hurt, and seeing the way you carried your bedsheets stuffed with items he made out you had to leave in a hurry. "Ya should rest. I'll take someone ta check yer old place in the mornin'."

The offer took you off guard but you welcomed it, thanking him for being so kind.

"Alright." Deanna stated quickly. " you may accompany mister Dixon for the night, since you two have a history together. Tomorrow morning mister Dixon can show you my home where we can continue this talk. Goodnight for now." With a kind smile she headed back home.

Daryl bid the guards a good night aa well before showing you the way to his shared home. "Ain't got a room fer ya yet, so yer gonna havta live with the couch tonight."

Daryl led you inside where you were met with Carol who was woken up by people coming to get Daryl earlier. You watched her as she got up and with a kind smile to greet you and introduced herself. When you responded with an introduction of yourself, Daryl made a mental note of your name. "Would you like some tea?"

She had practically readied everything already before you answered, so instead you just nodded and thanked her as she offered you a cup.

"I'm going back to bed. Find me when you need something, okay?" A small wave punctuated her leave as she disappeared up the stairs.

You stood with the tea in your hands, looking around the house and taking it all in. It had been years since you'd seen a house in this near perfect state, untouched by the dead, or the living that took everything they desired.

"Yer gon' be alrigh?" Daryl's voice was soft, like he was trying his best not to overwhelm you. He got to digging out blanket from the basket beside hus lounge chair and handed it to you along with an extra pillow.

"Thankyou. I'll be fine for the night." With tour bedsheet bag set to the side you sat down to undo your boots, remembering you had set your tea down and taking a sip before it got cold.

Daryl kind of just watched your scatterbrained self do five things at once until you were finally ready to lay down. Only then did he wish you a good night, and upon walking away he stopped for a second, turning towards you. "Name's Daryl, by the way."

It had been a while since you slept through the night and woke up with the smell of fresh breakfast being prepared. The groan you let out as you stretched earned you a call of good morning from the kitchen. Carol peeked her head past the corner and walked up with a new cup of tea.

While you waited for breakfast as Carol had instructed you went to unpack the stuff you brought. Trying to make a list for Daryl to help him on his trip to your cabin later today.

You stacked your clothes on the armrest beside you, clearly missing a couple of items that weren't on the closest pile when you ran. You dug out a canteen of water, some weapons and a solar powered lantern that was at the end of its life. The last thing all the way at the bottom was--

"Hey, where'd you get that?" Carol's curious tone had you jump up, pulled away from the focus on your task.

"Ya took it with ya? Empty?" You hadn't even noticed Daryl coming into the room, all dressed and ready to leave already.

Your gaze switched from Carol over to Daryl, and back to Carol again who was staring at her friend with a confused look on her face. "Daryl?"

Again your head moved to look at Daryl, who was chewing on the skin of his thumb. A clear sign of his nerves. "Took it ta bring 'er som meat. She weren't showin' at the gate so I took some to 'er home."

Carol raised her brows at that, but decided to stay quiet, going back to preparing the plate of breakfast for you and shooing Daryl out the door, who made a vocal protest of having to take you to Deanna. "I'll take her later. You go do your thing, she'll be here when you come home."

You smiled around a mouthful of food, loving the playful banter between the two.

With Daryl out the door, Carol went to take her own breakfast and sit down with you.

"So, how'd you two meet? Usually Daryl shares tales of his hunts, but I never heard anything about a woman."

You had to start improvising now. If you shared the truth there was a chance of being straight out the gate again. "He almost shot me." It was the first thing that came to mind, it was close enough to your first encounter where he would have shot you if you had beem further off. "He told me to find this place, but I got scared. I mentioned being tired of fish and he figured out where I lived." You shared a simple version of the whole truth that seemed to work well enough for Carol to move on.

After breakfast you washed up and Carol took you to see Deanna, where you went through some sort of interview initiation process. She talked about the inner workings of the community and finding a job for you based on your chat.

You found it strange, but you guessed it was a necessity.

Deanna gave you a quick tour of the community after deeming you not dangerous, showing you all the important places like the pantry, the infirmary and the vegetable gardens.

You got to search through the community clothing reserves and pick out some stuff to take home and take a much needed shower.

You had no idea how long you spent in the bathroom. All you knew was Daryl had come home by the time you were done.

It then hit you you never gave him a list of missing items.

"Hey." Daryl's eyes caught yours and for a second all he could see was you, with your soaked hair in the river. He shook the thought off and awkwardly pointed out the door. "Stripped the place. Come see what ya wanna keep?"

In your clean clothes and damp hair you followed Daryl outside, padding along down the porch steps and to the back of the truck parked in front of the house.

Together you sifted through the truck bed, taking out the items you wished to keep for yourself and sorting rhe rest into useful community items and stuff to take apart for material.

Spending the whole day going around the community with Daryl was the best time you had since the dead came back to life.

Just one day of donating your gathered items and clearing out your now bedroom was all it took to have those butterflies from back in your cabin flutter so much more intense than before.

But you kept it quiet, showed none of it. There was no way it would be okay to share something like that only a single day into it.

Where you went to bed content, Daryl ended up downstairs with a less positive mindset.

He was angry. Not at you, or anyone in general. He was angry with himself. He was angry for falling for you since day one and not having had the courage to show himself to you during the full moons.

Weeks passed where the two of you danced around each other in and out of the community, all the way up to the week of the full moon.

Daryl had to leave again in three days and his mind was plagueing him. He hated the idea of having to lie to you about his leave. He hated that he'd have to use your cabin and reinforce it in record time so he had a safe space to sleep.

But if yoy knew your cabin was walker-proof, you could want to move back and Daryl didn't want that. He wanted you to stay..

Around the community it was clear something was bugging Daryl, but most of them wouldn't even bother to find out what that something was. To Carol it was clear as day, and she made it her personal job to make sure Daryl talked to you before leaving.

"Pookie.." Carol sat down beside her friend who had been chainsmoking on the porch, leg bouncing and thumb almost bleeding from how much he bit it. "She's gonna be okay with it. The cabin, you. Everything."

Daryl only grumbled something in response. Something that sounded like you being afraid, which only made her laugh niw that she knew how the two of you had officially met.

Of course Darul had shared the whole truth with her, it's how Carol figured out her friend had been in love with the girl way before she had shown up at the community. Before he had caught her stealing, even.

"Daryl, look. It has been obvious that she's comfortable around you. You attacked her for stealing and lied about it to get her to stay." A soft reassuring smile ended her last sentence. "She's lived in the woods. She'll love your animal half."

Daryl spent the remainder of his cigarette mulling over Carol's words. She made so much sense it had to be true.

It took the rest of the day to mentally prepare him to go find you at home, and to his luck you were helping Carol in the kitchen.

He thanked the moon for Carol being there as well, he was going to need someone to back him up.

"Hey, Daryl." Carol happily greeted him from where she was showing you how to create her cookie dough, kneading it side by side with you.

The soft hum of the oven sounded through the kitchen as Daryl came over and leaned against the counter behind you.

"Man, I wish we had chocolate chips.. I miss those." You reminised to the old world and its delicious snacks that had your mouth water.

"I have some, we can set some dough aside for a small batch." Carol moved to separate a small portion of her dough for later. "Just keep those away from the regular ones. Daryl's allergic to chocolate and we don't want him getting sick."

Your brows furrowed in confusion, while Daryl glanced over at Carol's conversation starter.

"You're allergic to chocolate? That must suck.." You peeked away from your work to give Daryl and apologetic look.

He only shrugged it off, too busy with his confession to make a snarky comment. The kitchen fell silent again and he felt the panic gnaw at his skull again. He had to get it over with.

"S'watcha get when ya ain't fully human. Can't eat all kindsa food."

Carol smiled to herself when your hands stilled. In the reflection of the window you could see Daryl's worry clean on his face. You had to choose your words carefully.

"What else can't you have? You know, for if I'm ever in charge of dinner."

The response was one Daryl didn't see coming. It was clear in his little stutter as he found the words to reply. "Can't have grapes. So no wine either, not tha' I can get drunk anyways."

You were hoping he'd straight up say what he was thinking and not dance around the subject, but you saw he needed time. Back to questioning you went.

"So, what exactly is making you have those allergies? What non-human part, I mean." You kept peeking his way over your shoulder as you followed Carol's moves in cutting and placing the cookies.

"Yer gonna think 'm crazy. Feels gross sayn' it out loud." He couldn't even look up from the floor with how badly he wanted to disappear right now. His hands in his pockets plucking at any loose threads so he wouldn't chew his fingers down to the bone.

"You could always show her." Carol shrugged with the plate of raw cookies in her hands, placing it in the oven while you operated the door for her.

"Nah. S'too scary ta show jus' like tha'." He was getting restless, he had said what he wanted in a way, so why was he still so anxious about this whole thing?

"Scary? I swear I mistook you for a bear undernthat pile of leaves last month. You're pretty cute when you sleep." Your eyes squinted with the wide smile on your face, remembering that night in the woods.

Only when you saw Daryl's face become one of utter shock you couldn't hold back your laughter.

It took a moment for the situation to die down again, you catching your breath and Daryl still not knowing what to do.

But Carol did. "I told you so." With a shrug she kept moving around and continuing the baking process while Daryl's mind rattled and you reassured him once more.

"I came here after I saw you and realised who I found. If I saw you before I came here I would have been just as happy to have seen you, because I like you for who you are, not what you are."

Daryl's hands had by now found their way out of his pockets. One tucked underneath his armpit and the other being anxiohsly chewed on, the skin angry and red.

You abandoned your baking, trusting Carol to pick up, and took two steps towards him. Your hands found his, tugging them down to hold them in yours. "Daryl.."

You watched a million thought cross Daryl's eyes, his hands trembled in yours as he looked anywhere but at you.

With your hands intertwined you could feel the anxiety seep into you. The words you had ready all jumbled up and were unreachable in your head. The only difference was, you did find words when you looked Daryl in the eyes and he looked right back. The trembling of Daryl's hands in yours turned into full body jitters, lifting you on your tiptoes to press the quickest peck to his lips, quietly mumbling an 'I love you' against his chest.

For a moment the kitchen was quiet. No mure humming of the oven or rummaging on the counters. Carol had soundlessly slipped away too.

After a while of not getting a single response, Daryl's hands slipped from yours and for a second your heart broke. You were ready to step back and head out, ready to disappear when his hands settled on your lower back, fingers brushing over the fabric of your shirt ever so lightly. He was testing the waters and you let him. Daryl needed time to let everything sink in and give it a place.

Your hands hung limp at your side, unsure what to do with them but tensed as Daryl nuzzled against your hair, softly pressing and nudging you to look at him.

With you facing him again he lowered his head and press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

Your arms snaked around him, pressing further into him. "I love you, Daryl."

After the kiss Daryl kept nuzzling your cheek, a soft humm rumbling deep down in his chest.

He may have not said it back, but it was clear in his actions he felt the same way for you.

A/N: This request was fun! I'm sorry it took so long, I really hope it's what you wanted ♡♡

#sometimes I write #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #twd #the walking dead #twd x reader #twd daryl #daryl x reader #twd au #werewolves #werewolf

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st4rgiirll · 2 months ago

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for you page

— a few rookies rent a house near silverstone and secretly film chaotic f1-themed tiktoks. netflix finds out only after one of the videos goes viral. now there's a race to secure the rights before it hits mainstream media.

all credits in my main masterlist!! <33

oscar piastri stared at his phone in horror. "guys," he called out to his housemates, voice cracking. "we might have a situation."

logan sargeant and liam lawson looked up from where they were attempting to do the dance for their latest tiktok.

"define 'situation,'" liam said, still holding a makeshift podium trophy made from empty red bull cans.

"remember that video we made last week? the one where we recreated famous team radio messages using only cat meows?"

logan froze mid-dance move. "the one where i did christian horner's angry voice as a persian cat?"

"it has four million views. and netflix just called."

the infamous silverstone share house fell silent, save for the distant sound of their neighbor mowing the lawn – which they were pretty sure was actually lewis hamilton in disguise, trying to figure out what they'd been up to for the past three months.

their tiktok account, @ f1rookielife, had started innocently enough. just three young drivers sharing a rental house, making content to pass the time between races. how were they supposed to know their "day in the life of an f1 seat (starring an actual racing seat)" would go viral?

oscar's phone buzzed again. "oh god," he muttered. "now will buxton wants to do a dramatic piece to camera about it."

"delete the drafts folder," logan practically screamed, diving for his phone. "especially the one where we did 'mean girls' but it's all about porpoising!"

but it was too late. netflix producer sarah wilson was already sending screenshots. somehow, they'd found the video titled "pov: you're toto wolff's table during a race."

"my dad's going to kill me," oscar whispered, thinking of all the videos where he'd perfectly mimicked christian horner's dramatic monologues while wearing a red bull onesie.

liam was frantically scrolling through their content. "maybe it's not that bad. i mean, apart from the 'whose team principal is it anyway?' series... and the 'f1 drivers as vines' compilation... and that interpretive dance about ferrari strategy..."

there was a knock at the door.

all three rookies froze. logan, still wearing a fake mustache from their "by gawd, that's fernando alonso's music!" wrestling parody, looked like he was about to pass out.

the door opened to reveal daniel ricciardo, grinning his trademark grin. "guys," he said, holding up his phone, "your 'brokeback paddock' skit about the ferrari mechanics? absolute gold."

before they could respond, more notifications started flooding in.

"charles leclerc just duetted our 'i'm just a girl, standing in front of a strategy team, asking them to pit me' video," oscar announced, voice weak.

liam checked his own phone. "max just shared our 'dutch anthem but it's played on simulator pedals' post."

"guys?" logan was staring at his screen. "why is fernando alonso requesting access to our private backup account?"

another knock at the door. this time it was the netflix crew, cameras already rolling.

"we want exclusive rights," sarah declared, stepping into their living room, which was still decorated with various props including a life-size cardboard cutout of günther steiner wearing a flower crown.

"but—" oscar started.

"is that a script for 'keeping up with the karmines'?" sarah pointed to a notebook. "and... is that a storyboard for 'the real housedrivers of monaco'?"

liam tried to subtly kick their box of fake wigs under the couch. "we can explain..."

more phones buzzed. their latest video had just dropped: "if shakespeare wrote team radio (feat. special guest seb vettel as hamlet)."

"how did you get sebastian vettel to—" sarah began.

"he just showed up one day," logan explained. "said something about the youth needing guidance in sustainable content creation."

oscar's phone rang. it was zak brown. "mate," his boss said, "your 'mclaren mechanics do surgery on a diffuser' interpretive ballet? that's getting you a contract extension."

outside, they could hear the sound of more cars pulling up. george russell had apparently seen their "powerpoint presentations but they're about overtaking strategies" series and wanted to collaborate.

"look," sarah said, "netflix wants first rights to all of it. the behind-the-scenes, the bloopers, especially the 'real reason for porpoising' musical number."

"the what?" came toto wolff's voice from the doorway. nobody had heard him arrive.

liam quickly closed the laptop that was playing their latest project: "drive to survive but every dramatic pause is replaced with yuki tsunoda saying 'bruh.'"

"we'll give you creative control," sarah offered desperately, watching as more drivers and team principals began gathering outside the house. "just... please tell me you got that video of christian horner doing a dramatic monologue about his coffee machine."

"that wasn't us," oscar admitted. "that was actually just christian being christian."

another notification: their "formula 1 drivers as vines (part 43)" had just been shared by f1's official account.

"fine," logan sighed, accepting their fate. "but nobody sees the 'real housedrivers' footage until after i retire."

"deal," sarah said quickly, just as lewis hamilton walked in wearing a gardening outfit that probably cost more than their house.

"so," lewis said, pulling off his designer sunglasses, "about that 'fashion week but it's racing suits' series you've been filming in my garden..."

somewhere in maranello, charles leclerc was already practicing for their next video: "ferrari strategy meetings but they're taylor swift songs."

the rookies looked at each other. they'd created a monster. a very entertaining, potentially career-ending monster.

"at least we didn't post the 'kardashians but it's team principals' series," oscar whispered.

liam checked his phone one last time. "about that..."

the sound of toto wolff discovering his role as kris jenner could be heard all the way to brackley.

#formula one #formula 1 #formula one fanfic #formula racing #formula e #f1 2025 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 rookies #f1 #f1 imagine #oscar piastri #liam lawson #yuki tsunoda

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slotumn · 5 months ago

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Actually fuck it some more thoughts on heteronormativity and marriage in Fódlan + Crests + class

Even if heteronormativity is stronger for noble houses with Relics, the Crest-bearers themselves can probably afford to flip it off for a while in a way non-Crest bearer's can't; as long as they're capable of wielding the Relic and fighting, their houses can't just disown them for not producing heirs, because then you are throwing away the only person capable of using the handheld nukes

The only feasible way for noble houses to disown their kids on the basis of them not doing heterosexuality for heirs is if they have other family members of the same generation with Crests... but this seems to be a pretty rare thing as of canon era, and even if that were the case, is it really a smart move to throw away precious backup nuke wielders? Don't look at a gift horse in the mouth etc

For any additional pressures (heteronormativity or otherwise) Crest-wielding nobles face, they'd also get a hell lot more leeway on their behaviors compared to their non-Crested counterparts

And for any pressures all nobles (Crested or Crestless) might face, they'd get a hell lot of more advantages in life compared to commoners

Like the main problem for nobles in this department is whether their marriages and offspring are politically optimal. The problem for commoners would be 1. whether they can afford to get married at all, and/or 2. whether their spouse and kids can survive the winter

The real curveball on all this, and what would reveal the exact importance of Crests and strength of norms related to it, imo, is how an average commoner who was born and raised a commoner but somehow turned out to have a Crest would be treated.

Would they suddenly face the same kind of marriage and offspring-related pressures as nobles? Do they yield more leverage over non-Crested/minor nobles who want to marry them just because Crests are that precious and the number one most important thing? Or is it easier for those nobles control/exploit the commoner through other means (economic security, connections, etc)?

(I know Mercedes comes close to the suggested example but she was born a noble and still retains some connections to nobility; Byleth also comes close but they're not a regular Crest-bearer, they're overpowered in all kinds of ways even by Crested person standards and has a really weird life trajectory so it's hard to point to them as an example)

(Yuri fits but his other thing aside from being a poor commoner with a Crest is that he's a pretty boy desired for his beauty as well. So I guess the question is "how would Yuri have been treated if he was mid rather than pretty" lmao)

Because the thing about the class system in Fódlan is that yes class/inheritance and Crests are correlated and connected by design, but it's still not 100% one and the same.

So on the rare occasion that those things are separate, what holds more power? Crests or class?

#slotalks #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fe3h meta #meta #fe3h worldbuilding

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communistkenobi · 1 year ago

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would you be at all willing to talk about your experience of undergrad vs grad school? personally i struggled quite a bit in undergrad but am still always tempted to go back, and i think maybe the narrowed focus of grad school would be a little easier to handle, but i'm not sure if that would actually be the case... & perhaps your experience was something else completely and maybe this is too vague also lol, but i'm very curious about how you felt they were different!

yeah totally! My experience is doing graduate degrees (writing a thesis) in the faculty of social science in Canadian universities, so everything I’m about to say comes from that specific context. Definitely not universal lol

in my experience grad school is a lot more customised than undergrad. You still have required courses, non-course degree milestones (usually you’re required to present your work at conferences, which can get expensive and isn’t always covered by your department, as well as produce summaries of work you’ve done, research proposals, scholarship applications, etc), and standardised expectations, but you have a lot more choice in the courses you take and what topics you focus on. One university I was at was very relaxed about deadlines in grad school (I easily got extensions from profs without needing doctors notes or official accommodations, i was given the ability to redo assignments, etc), and the other was the ecact opposite (treated me like a idiot for needing extra time with work). If you’re doing a thesis project, a lot of your degree is independent work that you do in your own time - this was a huge struggle for me at the end of my masters, and I had to do “martial law” with my graduate friends at the very end, which basically meant us instituting a highly regimented schedule together made up of work sessions and breaks where we would each meet up and work on finishing our thesis (1 hour of work then 15 min break, rince and repeat, do this for four or five sessions a day every day). You are on a time crunch as you only receive funding for so many years, if you get offered funding at all.

your supervisor has a lot of control and influence over you - they are meant to guide you through the research process, develop your project, give you feedback, provide you with appropriate literature, double check your work, and help you get grants / funding. If you get a bad one it can legitimately ruin your life. I have had hilariously bad luck with supervisors (I’ve had to switch supervisors twice due to discrimination and breaches of provincial human rights law - which is not the norm to my understanding lol).

it depends on why you want to go to grad school and what you plan to do after. I want to stay in academia so that’s where most of my advice comes from. Tenure-track positions are incredibly difficult to secure and if you’re serious about staying in the academy you should be publishing your research while you’re still in graduate school, and treat every term paper as a draft of something you’re going to publish. I also have backup jobs I know I can apply for outside of academia if I don’t get any academic offers.

it’s relatively common for students to join a two or four year grad program but take way more time than that to finish. Usually if you get any funding packages, they only cover the official allotted years (in my experience, two for a master’s, four for PhD), meaning that if you need extra time, you could be finishing your degree with no funding and no guaranteed employment. If your supervisor is cool/connected they might have money they can swing your way, but it’s a tenuous and scary way to live if you have no other source of income.

funding usually comes from 1) grants your department gives you (they will tell you if they’re giving you money on your acceptance letter), 2) teaching assistant positions (I was/am required to be a TA, which usually involves grading undergraduate work, running labs, or leading teaching sessions/“tutorials”) and 3) federal scholarships that you are required to apply for. You need to write applications for these scholarships, usually including a research proposal, a CV/resume, a transcript of your grades, and recently, they’ve added a requirement for a diversity statement explaining any minority statuses you have and how that affects your education. TA work has an uneven workload from week to week, and usually most of the work is towards the end of the term when you’re grading final essays/exams, which creates crunch periods where you’re both working on your own coursework and grading undergrad work.

again a lot of this might not apply to your particular discipline or university or country. Usually universities list a lot of this info on their website, which can help you figure out what’s required of you. Grad school is structured like a full time job and it doesn’t pay very well even if you are funded. I lived with my parents for most of my master’s which gave me the financial stability to complete it. It’s not easy and it takes up most of your waking time, and it can leave you in a financially precarious position with a lot of debt. It’s definitely not something I would recommend for fun unless you have a lot of money and time to burn

#asks

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donjuaninhell · 8 months ago

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Anonymous Submission to North Shore Counter-Info Earlier this week a group of people sabotaged Gastops’ factory in Ottawa, the only place in the world where engine sensors are produced for Lockheed’s F-35 combat jets — including the ones dropping 2,000 pound bombs on Gaza. We cut the wiring inside all of the heat pumps on the Gastops roof, locked them out with official Ministry of Health and Safety lock-out tags, shut off the gas, broke the handles for their systems, and cut the lines to their backup communication system on the way out. The following letter and photos were left on site:

It’s worth noting that we disabled their heat pumps as it begins to get cold here in Ottawa and as displaced people in Gaza and Lebanon plead with us to help them secure shelter, blankets, clothing, as they freeze in displacement camps. Earlier this month an Ottawa neighbour lost her uncle while he returned to his home in Gaza attempting to bring back blankets for the children so they would not freeze to death. He was murdered by air strike while doing so, likely by an F-35 that Gastops supplies parts to. People growing tired of politicians continuing to support the slaughter of civilians in Palestine and Lebanon will continue to escalate actions seeking peace and an end to these war crimes.

Love to see some fellow anarchists hit 'em where it hurts.

#link

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theinnovatorsinsights · 5 months ago

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lemissingmask · 2 years ago

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[ID: Partially coloured sketch of part of an old building, with an old wooden door and low wall showing, and some red flowers on the left side of the image. The low wall has a crudely drawn block image of a wolf with a bushy tail and fangs and breathing fire. End ID]

Day 19: Taken for granted

The Leverage crew take for granted the story of someone who flees into the brewpub for protection, and suffer the consequences.

Ficlet below the cut, which hopefully explains the obscure art.

It had been a mistake, a stupid failure in their personal security, and one that Hardison would never forgive himself for if they failed to get Eliot back.

Checking out the clients, verifying their stories and their backgrounds, that was his job. He was the only one with the skills to do it.

And he did. He usually always did.

But this time, he had not.

At least not until it was too late.

He took for granted that the terrified woman who had fled into the brewpub to hide from her two pursuers was legit. Hell, there had been two suits - former marines according to some distinctive feature Eliot picked out - lurking outside the building waiting for her.

Eliot had dealt with the muscle without the least difficulty, and then they had all listened to her story.

She told the leverage crew that she had been on her way to meet with her lawyer, who was helping her take down her former boss for money laundering, when she found the two men to be following her.

She gave them a background on her boss, how she found out about the criminal activity, and how since then she had been fired, harassed and had her car broken into.

So they took her on as a client, and Eliot drove her to a safehouse while Parker and Hardison got started on the case.

They had only just finished and wrapped up their last one, they were all on the tired side, but they could hardly do nothing when this woman needed help.

Except she didn’t.

The boss existed but she had never worked for him. He ran the company she claimed to have been employed by, but neither the financial situation of the company nor the boss was good enough to imply any sort of money laundering activity. What’s more, there was no digital trail to suggest any payments from that boss or anyone or anything linked to him to imply that he had hired professional muscle.

It wasn’t definitive, but something didn’t feel right, so then, and only then, Hardison got around to looking into their client.

Her background looked believable on the surface but one layer down it fell apart.

Profiles on social media built within the last month and backdated to make them seem older, no digital trail for her existence. No bank accounts, no SSN, no credit history.

And then facial recognition said her name was not Lucy, but Mary. And Sophia. And Clarissa, Diana, Francesca…

“She’s a grifter?!” Parker looked up at the screens where Hardison had the salient information projected, “Why? What does she want?”

“Maybe she heard of us and is auditioning?” Hardison suggested, not believing that idea for a second, “Eliot, you catch that?”

Silence over the comms.

Hardison pulled up their comm feeds. Working fine, Eliot’s was still on, sending system updates and pings.

“Eliot?” Parker asked, her comm showing the sound waves.

Eliot’s remained nothing more than base level of noise.

“Where is he?”

Hardison accessed the gps, “Safe house.”

Parker frowned, “Eliot! You copy us?”

“Maybe he and Lucy or whatever her name is are…”

“No,” Parker glared at the fake IDs on the screen, “Eliot wouldn’t do that. He still gets angry with himself for taking his comms out once before.”

More than once, to Hardison’s count, but it was true, not since the incident with the music producer and Nate having no backup.

She gave those IDs one more, lingering glare, and straightened, “I’ll drive.”

For once Hardison didn’t object. If something was wrong, even just potentially wrong, they needed to get to that safehouse and to Eliot as fast as they could, which meant Parker driving Lucille..

Hardison kept his laptop open in the passenger seat, checking the gps signal and keeping up attempts to reach Eliot by phone or comms. He and laptop only slammed into the window about four or five times in fifteen minute drive, which was pretty good he thought.

Not that there was time to feel proud.

Eliot’s Challenger was in the drive out front, parked normally. Nothing odd or hurried or wrong there.

Inside the house itself things were similarly apparently fine.

Alarms correctly disabled, mechanical locks unbroken, no sign of a struggle. In fact nothing out of place other than the two cups of coffee unfinished on the kitchen counter, and beside one of them Eliot’s phone and earbud, both in tact and still switched on. Alongside them lay the necklace Eliot almost never removed.

Hardison slipped that into his pocket and picked up the phone.

“I’m gonna search the house.”

Hardison turned quickly from the counter to Parker, putting the phone back down and immediately abandoning his plans to check through it, “Not alone you’re not.”

Whoever got the jump on Eliot - something nearly impossible on its own - could still be there, not expecting them to realise the grift so quickly, or maybe waiting for them in a trap that this could very easily be.

The house was empty and undisturbed. No trap but also no Eliot.

Traffic cams. Find the cars that could have left that area in the window between them arriving and their last contact with Eliot. Trace each identified car through the network of cameras, run each plate, look for something that seemed to be a lead.

Parker was still driving Lucille as Hardison initiated this search.

On top of Eliot going missing, someone luring him from the brewpub meant it was burned. Someone who had bad intentions for at least one of them now knew their base of operations. Before they could do anything further, they needed to head back and get everything essential or sensitive and get it into Lucille. They’d have to go on the road for a while, move to one of the safe houses, and operate from there until they had a handle on this fresh disaster.

They could do that while Hardison’s codes ran, scouring traffic cams and DVLA databases and cross-referencing with everyone - all the aliases of those people - who had ever or might ever have a grudge against Leverage.

Luckily, they did have a clear protocol for moments like this, and they had a specific plan for the brewpub, which served as a place of employment for a few dozen people as well as their base.

They dealt with the Leverage part of things - data, files, emergency funds, possessions of personal value - then told the employees to take two weeks paid leave starting when the last customers there already had gone. After two weeks, they would evaluate the safety of keeping the pub open, or even of returning to Portland, but whatever they did, the staff would not be collateral damage.

By the time the two of them had finished these tasks and returned to Lucille, Parker starting back out in the direction of the safe house where Eliot had been lost, Hardison’s codes had produced some usable data, and even more usable intelligence.

The data, lists of car registrations and their owners, was essentially useless, until cross-referenced against aliases they knew, which picked out one belonging to their recent grifter. Tracking that car through the cameras led to either an airfield or an industrial complex.

Hardison immediately started looking into who owned or rented property at the industrial site, and what flights had left the airfield within the window of Eliot’s disappearance.

There was a Dean Chesney who rented a warehouse in the industrial area, but obviously not the same Dean Chesney they had wrangled with since that guy had been dead some years now. There was a supervisor elsewhere in the district whose surname was Doyle, who couldn’t be utterly discounted as a relative of the Doyle who they had conned, but even if it was the same person, luring and kidnapping the hitter was not his style.

The airfield showed one flight landing, two leaving, in the time window they had approximated. The departures were, respectively, to Malta and Cyprus.

Hardison’s hope dwindled as he looked at the names of the people who owned the planes and their known associates, not a single one coming up as any likely enemy of them or of Eliot specifically.

But then he looked at the photo IDs.

And, now it all made horrifying, sickening sense.

“Damien Moreau?!” Parker was pacing back and forth in front of the comparatively small screen in their safehouse, “He escaped San Lorenzo and we didn’t know about it?!”

Hardison shook his head, looking from her back to his screen, “I’m contacting Eliot’s friend there now. If he knew, he would have told Eliot.”

“And Eliot would have told us,” Parker paused for a moment, pursing her lips, then resumed the pacing, “We need to warn Nate and Sophie. If Moreau wants revenge…”

“I’ll send an encrypted message, tell they to lay low, be cautious, but,” he looked back up, “If I tell them it’s Moreau and he’s taken Eliot…”

“They’ll want to get involved.”

They lapsed into silence, Hardison working on both the lines of contact, Parker pacing in her anxiety and frustration.

Moreau had to want revenge. It made sense. They had ruined him, got him locked up in some hole of a prison, and put him on the most-wanted list for some of the most powerful governments.

So, at least he probably wasn’t going to just kill Eliot…they had time to rescue him…

“What do we know about this alias?” Parker asked, appearing over his shoulder just as the messages both disappeared to their destined inboxes.

Hardison pulled up the information he had obtained but thus far only glanced briefly at, “Not much. The digital trail only goes back about a year, but it starts, pretty much, with one very big payment into a bank based in Bermuda from a…”

He dug a bit deeper into the source of the money, a company that didn’t really exist in any proper sense, set up just to make that payment, and set up by one of the very powerful billionaires who Moreau had once worked with.

Maybe he blackmailed his way out and back into a fortune.

“Looks like from someone he used to do business with,” Hardison shrugged, “He also paid a large part of it straight back out to a law firm, with another two payments over the following year.”

“So he got himself a lawyer?” Parker frowned, “A lawyer good enough to get him released from San Lorenzo under a new name and with a lovely big cheque waiting for him on the other side?”

“Maybe,” Hardison carried on searching, an activity fairly routine for him by now, “We gotta figure out where he took Eliot.”

“And how to get Eliot back. Moreau’s security is going to be tight, even if he’s lost most of his money and influence…the flight went to Cyprus, right?”

“Yeah,” Hardison was about to continue his answer when he saw an email from General Flores, which he quickly read before related to Parker, “Flores knew nothing about Moreau’s release. None of the government did…it was done on the whisper. And I mean, the serious whisper…someone with a lot of money or power had to have orchestrated it…”

“And we can dig into that later,” Parker said firmly, “First we have to get Eliot back.”

Hardison couldn’t agree more, “Two tickets to Cyprus, coming right up.”

Cyprus. Over twenty hours total of travelling, only about five of which allowed any sort of digital investigation into where Moreau was, what his security was like, and who had managed to get him released without anyone knowing. They had enough information for Parker to be rotating possible plans in her mind during the flight, much of which was spent looking absently out the window at the wing of the plane, and during which neither of them slept at all.

It was impossible not to think about what Moreau would do to Eliot, and the myriad dark thoughts that crossed Hardison’s mind made him really wished he had watched fewer horror films.

The guy had earned his reputation among the criminal community. He was ruthless and people did not cross him. Until Leverage had, and now they were paying for it.

By the time they reached Cyprus, they had three likely locations where Eliot would have been taken, approximate security profiles for two of them, and maybe half a formed Plan A for getting their hitter back.

This had become three complete security profiles and a hierarchy of probabilities for the locations, as well as vague Plans A-S (skipping M), by the time they reached the town in Pafos where Moreau had at least one property.

It was early morning when they reached the town, the old streets nearly devoid of human life, making the slow approach towards Moreau’s property feel almost dreamlike as the small rental car moved through the pale, thin light. They expected to see some sort of security outside the building, but as they approached closer on foot, they saw nothing. Some lights on inside, but no people or movement other than the gentle rustling of the oleander plants scattered around the exterior.

It was quiet, peaceful, calm.

Hardison jumped, almost screamed, at the suddenly hard nudge Parker gave him. But he managed to keep quiet, and turned, seeing where she was pointing.

On a low wall at the far side of the building from them, in thick, black paint, there was a sort of stick-figure wolf with a bushy tail and that seemed to be breathing fire. The paint had dripped in places, and in others, over the pale bricks, it seemed to have either faded or deeper into the porous rock. Not enough to obscure the image, however.

“Eliot signal?” Parker mouthed, hope blossoming in her eyes.

Hardison swallowed.

Maybe.

Moreau wouldn’t know anything about that, and it couldn’t possibly be a coincidence.

“Stay here,” Parker whispered into his ear, and began to make her way towards the signal, but Hardison quickly caught her arm and pointed to a camera camouflaged with the building's wall.

"Can you disable them?"

"I'm working on it..." he carried out the same procedure he had thousands of times before, assessing the cameras, working out if and how to get into them - loop the feed. Just needed to record a few seconds. Enough for Parker to get past unseen. There were five exterior cameras...except they were all showing static on his phone screen, already disabled. The same for the interior cameras.

"Someone beat us to it," Hardison looked back at Parker nervously. It had to have been Eliot, and that was a good thing, but then why did he feel so uneasy.

"I'm going," she whispered, "Stay here."

Cameras were out, but there might still be patrols, people inside, even though it was still very early and hopefully they were asleep.

Hardison watched Parker until she disappeared around the corner of the building, and he was left alone to wait in that eerily peaceful silence. He kept his phone out, watching the camera feeds and looking into what he could access of other systems inside.

The feeds never deviated from the static, and there didn't seem to be anything else with an operating system inside to attack, other than a few smartphones. But Moreau hadn't exactly been a high-tech bad guy. More of an old-school, send goons in the night to assassinate his enemies bad guy.

Hardison grimaced at that thought.

Eliot had once been one of those goons.

“Hardison!”

The hissed name over comms nearly made him jump, breaking his train of thought.

“I’ve found Eliot,” Parker whispered, “He’s unconscious and he's not waking up. His leg's shot and his feet are all messed up, and he…he looks really bad...should I taser him?”

"What?!"

"To wake him up!"

"No, Parker. Don't taser him," Hardison replied very extra care to be very clear, then added, “You see any guards anywhere?”

“No. You're clear. It's totally quiet. Just stay low and avoid the windows."

Hardison took a deep breath and followed Parker’s path along the side of the building, round the corner, and into a yard that overlooked the ocean.

The two were a lot closer than Hardison expected, in a small half-covered alcove at the back of the yard.

Eliot was sitting up, leaning back against the stone wall with Parker beside him. His left leg was bloody, a tourniquet tied not far above his knee, and the soles of his bare feet were, as Parker had said, pretty messed up. Bloody and red and bruised. His right hand, unmoving on his lap, was obviously broken, and two bands of deep bruising crossed his exposed torso, stark against his too pale skin.

Matching bruises over his arms and wrists suggested some sort of restraint strong enough to have bruised the skin. Maybe fractured the bone beneath. Maybe internal injuries…

Hardison swallowed back his nausea, burying the worst case scenarios running through his brain.

Eliot had escaped far enough to get here and to leave them a signal, so he had to be okay-ish. Nothing acutely urgent...maybe it was blood loss or dehydration or hypothermia...he did look very pale and his lips maybe a touch blue. Moreau probably hadn't been exactly generous with food or drink, so it might be something as simple as that.

“Okay,” Hardison took a slow, steadying breath as he felt Eliot's thready pulse, “Parker, go ahead and let me know if anyone’s in the windows. I’ll carry him. We get him to the car, get some supplies, and get outta here.”

She nodded and hopped to her feet, running ahead. Hardison carefully slipped his arms under Eliot and stood, gritting his teeth as his legs and back protested him standing with the added weight.

The first few metres were fine, but with all the stopping and starting while Parker checked the way was clear, Hardison’s legs and arms were burning by the time he reached the car. He didn’t have time to deal with it though. They needed to get the hell out of here.

With minimal discussion, they arranged themselves so Parker drove and Hardison sat up across the back seats, Eliot propped up against him, hopefully absorbing some of his body heat. As much as Parker driving was not the best thing for someone with severe injuries, this was the way it had to be for when they stopped at a pharmacy.

It was still too early for anything to be open, so Hardison disabled the alarm and camera remotely, while Parker broke into the first pharmacy they found with no one nearby.

“Grab sterile gauze, bandages, disinfectant, painkillers…electrolyte replenishing stuff…if they’ve got one an emergency blanket.”

“The shiny one?”

“Yeah.”

“Got it.”

A few minutes later she reappeared, a lollipop in her mouth, and shoved the supplies into the car, ripping open the blanket and tossing it at Hardison while he rearmed the alarm and cameras to hide the break in as much as possible.

They really needed to not leave any sort of trail behind them.

While Parker kept driving, heading towards the next district, Hardison wrapped the blanket over Eliot. He should try to make him drink something, but doing that while he was unconscious would probably just make him choke.

Just as Hardison was mentally running through all the first aid Eliot had taught them, he felt the man in his arms shift slightly.

Then he fell motionless again.

Hardison squeezed him very lightly, "El? Eliot?"

Eliot moved again, making a soft, almost pained, sound.

"Parker! Parker, pull over."

She did with a little more abruptness than Hardison had hoped for, but then he had sounded pretty urgent. Urgent enough that she looked outright terrified when she opened the door to the back seats.

But then she broke into a smile.

"Eliot!"

"Hey," he rasped, voice heavy and rough.

Parker hopped into the back with them as Eliot tried to sit up, helping him to shift to rest against the back of a seat rather than Hardison. Able to see him better now, Eliot looked just as awful as back at Moreau's place. Maybe a bit more colour to his cheeks, but that was it.

"You okay, man?"

Eliot glared tiredly. He never liked that question.

"You were very unconscious."

"Drugged," he replied, and now his groggy state made more sense, "Moreau was gettin' ready to transport me somewhere else. Got out before it took effect."

Got out, but not fully away.

He must have had just enough time to escape before whatever sedative or paralytic or cocktail it was got to him. Enough time to escape and leave a signal for them to find.

"Here," Hardison twisted the top off a bottle of isotonic flavoured water from the pharmacy and passed it over, "You got it?"

This last as Eliot's hand shook when he took the bottle. But the hitter just nodded tiredly and drank steadily. Three long gulps, and he passed it back.

"Thanks."

"We liked the Eliot signal," Parker smiled up from her new position sitting comfortably in the footwell where no adult human should be able to sit comfortably.

"How'd you know we'd be there?" Hardison asked, "I mean, what if someone else found your graffiti or it washed away?"

"Moreau was keepin' tabs on you. Heard 'im say somethin' 'bout a plane arrivin' from Oregon. Figured you'd find the place soon enough."

"Speaking of, we should probably get going before Moreau comes after us..."

"Moreau ain't gonna be a problem anymore."

They both looked sharply at him. And then looked away, Hardison first, then Parker, realising the blunder in their evident alarm.

Eliot hadn't missed their reactions, but he spoke on as if he had been entirely unaware, "Should call cops an' get 'em to that place.”

“Do you think his men will try to follow us?” Parker asked.

Eliot began to reply, but he broke off. He shut his eyes, jaw clenching, and took an unsteady breath. Whatever Moreau had drugged him with was strong.

“Don’ know. Maybe. They might try to score an easy bounty or somethin’,” he paused again, and Hardison could see him shaking slightly under the blanket, “With cops on ‘em they’ll hafta lay low. Less likely to chase us.”

Hardison nodded, watching as Eliot continued to struggle against some pain or exhaustion or whatever it was, "Yeah. Yeah, I'll get on that now. Cops to Moreau's place...but we should get going. Stop at a hotel...you look pretty bad, El."

Eliot half-glared, half-frowned, caught between confusion and irritation, like he was attempting his usual grumpy but the lingering effects of the drug were getting in the way.

If it wasn’t for the fact that Eliot did, really, look damn awful, it would have been adorable. Hardison almost smiled as he turned his focus to his phone to make the call.

As Parker drove, Hardison kept a close eye on Eliot, who slowly drank his way through the electrolyte drink. More than twice, he seemed to almost slip back into unconsciousness or sleep, but he was obviously trying to fight it.

Hardison had got pretty good at knowing when Eliot wanted to talk, when he wanted just to listen, and when he wanted only silence. Now he wanted silence, and Hardison and Parker gave it to him.

Twenty minute to drive to the nearest fancy hotel, where Parker helped Eliot sneak in while Hardison checked him and Parker in under their aliases.

Then over an hour while Eliot cleaned and patched up his injuries, Parker and Hardison helping where he couldn’t manage with his left hand alone or when his strength started to slip.

They had to help with the extraction of a bullet from his shin, which was particularly gory and made Hardison very glad of Parker’s dexterity and not being bothered by blood, with getting some splinters of wood out of the cuts on his feet. Cleaned up, those didn’t look as bad as before. There were numerous narrow gashes and a lot of bruising, but nothing was too deep. It still looked horrible and was probably really painful. But it wasn’t damage to the extent Hardison had feared.

But by the end of their makeshift medical activities, and after a bath during which Eliot submitted to allowing them both to help, their hitter looked more like himself again. Worn out and subdued in the way he usually was after especially rough fights or bad injuries, but no worse than they had seen him before.

And he was behaving more like himself too, with the effects of the drug wearing off. It did away with the unease that Eliot's remark about Moreau had set upon them. Even after all this time, Hardison could never fully reconcile the Eliot he knew with the Eliot who killed people, and that moment had been the closest the two had ever come to meeting.

But now, their Eliot sat on the plush couch of their hotel suite, bandaged feet resting on a cushion on the coffee table, with Parker pressed close on one side, munching on a sweet pastry she had stolen from the hotel restaurant. Hardison was a little way off, making use of the small desk to work on bolstering their cover.

He had just posted a couple of photos to the social media of his alias to help their covers.

“Parker and I are here on holiday," he said, finishing a Tweet and looking up, "Eliot I’ve got you an alias set up for when we head back. How long do you need before you fly?”

“Couple of days.”

“We should stay at least a week to keep our covers good,” Parker pointed out, “A few days vacation is gonna look odd.”

“Two weeks?” Hardison suggested, “That’ll give me time to start sorting out a new base.”

Eliot frowned, “New base?”

“Portland’s blown. Moreau knew where to find us. No way to tell who else might know.”

The hitter looked away, letting out a frustrated breath.

“What we gonna do with the brewpub?”

“I’ll sell it. Make sure the employees are kept on or get compensation…we still need to move some things, clear out, but…”

“Can we set up our new base in Pennsylvania?” Parker interrupted excitedly.

Hardison frowned, and Eliot supplied the answer, “It’s the state that produces the most chocolate.”

“I was thinking Florida.”

Parker pouted, “Doesn’t Florida pollen make you cry?”

“Yeah man,” Eliot smiled teasingly, reassuringly like himself, “Can’t have you cryin’ your way through our jobs.”

Hardison rolled his eyes and moved over to join them, bringing his laptop and prepared to launch into the inevitably long debate over where they should move next. They had two weeks here, so they had time to discuss it in depth. Maybe enough time to go see some sights, do some touristy things, or just binge watch some classic TV and movies in the hotel.

#ailesswhumptober2023 #Day 19: Taken for granted #leverage #alec hardison #parker #eliot spencer #damien moreau #cw implied torture #cw blood mention

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ask-carmenpondiego · 1 year ago

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Chapter 25: Is it cold in here or did Hell freeze over?

A few days later, Lekir and Carmen were packing for their trip to Cador, after much discussion, since Carmen had been accidentally setting things aflame. The trouble was that the Doctor still hadn’t fixed the C5 Doorway to be functional and undetectable. Some components were not compatible then there were some that simply exploded in use. He had to rush off to a place he knew to pick up what he needed to replace and complete the work, and possibly save the world. Lekir was sour that she had missed him as they were about to leave. “Looks like we’ll just need to ask Kalai for a portal. She at least has the authorization to create one. Then we can set your device to return whenever.” She suggested.

Carmen thought for a bit, she knew she may be able to sneak past security as she was at the capital’s portal transit station, but perhaps not since she looked a little different than her passport pictures. Portal travel had been extremely tight to anyone with dimensional portal powers due to the uptick in dangerous activity. Its been restricted to only authorized use and the main portals at each region’s capitals. Lekir knew some folks in her homeworld that were high up the command chain that were able to create portals for them, Carmen has never met them though but she knew they wouldn’t appreciate constant portal requests for her heisting. Portals were rare enough, they were only summoned after months of preparation and consultation at the capitals, and heavily guarded. General teleportation was not as regulated since the amount of magic to be used to travel to different worlds is far too much for an ordinary individual of this particular world, and simple teleports were limited to short distances.

This particular morning, Carmen’s stomach was churning. She couldn’t figure out if she ate something that didnt agree or she was just too nervous. She hasn’t traveled this way before, and she hasn’t been this nervous before. She had everything packed in a single suitcase and ran through a list of things that continued to be done while she was gone. She met up with M and Wally in the foyer for the review. “Alright so we may be gone a few weeks, I don’t know how this training is supposed to go but it’ll help me control this fire thing going on.. Wally, I need you to keep a stock of food, make sure Ninoga doesn’t empty us out, and keep a check on the fresh produce, Blendin may come over and you know he’s a crunchy kid with his veggies. He prefers greens over junk, so make sure theres fresh stuff for him.”

“M, I would like to have Daring introduced to how things work here, she’s my eldest and I would like a family backup if I decide to retire or something. She’s the closest to my body shape and all, gotta keep appearances. Go over the protocols and maybe let her on the field with one of you on one of the lesser priority heists. She may not like it now but she may grow into it.” Her stomach flopped a bit, and she paused. Wally and M looked at eachother, M tilted his head, “You sure you wanna go travel in this condition, Red? You usually don’t have nausea.” Wally gently shuffled her to the foyer sofa, had her sit down, he opened her water bottle for her, “M’s right, are you sure you wanna do this? You do look absolutely green around the gills..” Carmen took a sip and waved them off, “I’m fine, its probably just nerves.. This Cador has much heavier gravity than here and before I was not able to survive, I’m now supposedly able to and I am kinda worried about it not working but I’ll be fine..urp!” She clapped a hand over her mouth as she almost heaved. She got up and dashed to the nearest bathroom, rushing past Lekir. “Whoa.. Is she still sick?? I can let Kalai know to postpone for a day..” M groaned and shook his head, “You know how hard headed she is. She’s determined to leave today as scheduled. We’ve even asked her.”

“Good thing we’re not leaving for a few more hours. Gives her time to settle herself.” Lekir put her hands on her hips, waiting for her wife to be free from the bathroom. “Well, I’m about to go to my physical exam, maybe I’ll bring her along and see if theres anything they can give her to ease it up.” Wally offered. M laughed, “Good luck with that, you know she fuckin hates doctors since she was hauled away after the fuckin fire. Its been years.” Wally shrugs, “All the more reason, its been too long.” Carmen stepped back out to the foyer, looking a little worse for the wear. She had tied her hair up to a tight high-tail, “I’m not going to any doctors. Its just nerves. I’m fine. Go, don’t be late for the appointment. See if they can give something for the pain at least, maybe get them to do a chest scan, we don’t know how far its gotten..” she fussed over him, picking a missed crystal from his shoulder, where the shards shredded a hole. Wally smiles and kissed her nose. “I’ll be fine, just drink some ginger ale or something. I’ll be back soon.”

Blendin rushed through, almost bumping into his father, “Whoop, sorry Pops. Hey Mom, have you seen my backpack? I’m heading to a mission but I need something out of it real quick.” He starts looking behind the cushions of the sofa, M’s tentacle actually held it right above his head in a corner, the two wives snickering, “Look up, sweetie.” Carmen chuckled. Blendin looked around the ceiling for a moment “Hey! I need that! I’m gonna be late!” M cackled as he kept it slightly out of reach. “Uncle M, come on.. please?” The young stallion begged, the brash changeling dropping the backpack into the awaiting arms of the newly eighteen year old. M shook his head with a wicked grin, “That kid cant jump worth a damn..”

While the wives were preparing for their trip, Wally made his way to his appointment in a large city. In a large concrete building that almost looked more like a facility management center like the city’s Water Works, he stepped through the door and flashed his Wander Society coin, “Waldric Wander. I’m here for my physical.” He mentioned to the front desk where he was directed to the waiting room. After a few moments, he was called into an exam room where a new doctor stood to greet him. The tall black and white stallion grinned as he outstretched his hand, “Waldo, Glad you could make it. I’m Dr Ravidel Soltek and I’ll be handling your checkup today…”

Daring walked up to the door right outside Skyggja’s lab, where Sigryn greeted her, “Hello Daring! We weren’t expecting you! Would you like anything to drink?” The young pegasus shook her head, “No, I’m just looking for Mom. Have you seen her?” The dovefox nodded and escorted her towards the workshop area, “Oh yes! Carmen is right over here, getting some adjustments done before her trip.” Daring soon saw Carmen sitting in a shop chair, with a snack-tray in front of her with papers and books, awkwardly trying to sift through things with one arm as Skyggja was just a few feet away, working on the missing arm. Carmen looks up and smiles, “Adora! What brings you here?” Daring huffs a bit in annoyance, "Mom, why do you have a thing in my schedule for VILE training?! You know I don’t want to be a part of this! And with Uncle M for that matter!” Carmen straightens up and takes off her glasses, “Honey, I don’t know what will happen when I’m away and I need you or Blendin to know how things work here just in case there needs to be a leadership shift in the event of emergency. That and if anything should happen to me or your father, you’ll know what to do. I don’t want this to dissolve, too many people have made their home here. So its just a little crash course on how things work. I’m not asking you to become me. I want you to be your own person.” Daring crossed her arms, “You’ve already proven that you are worse at dying than a cockroach. So why me? If you hadn’t noticed, I’m now the only normal person that hasn’t been altered or abnormally strong or have powers..” Her mother beamed, “Sweetheart, I’m talking about your intuition and intellect, your ability to notice details, quick thinking and even quicker reflexes.” Daring glares, “But you don’t see what is wrong here! You have a skewed sense of morals in which I don’t want any part of! You steal from museums and other locations! And its mostly for your own gain! You don’t need any of it! Its all to see if you can while trying to disguise it as a way to punish a more crooked individual!”

Skyggja looks over her shoulder, “It may be stealing but your mother has done more to help others than you realize! She’s not exactly a Robin Hood but she isn’t any Sheriff of Nottingham either! As for doing it to see if she can, I’ve seen first hand how easy she can steal things. No wonder she keeps trying to go for more complicated heists. Theres no effort in protection anymore in lots of places. Consider us like WhiteHats, finding holes in security, only we get paid with their loss.” Daring growls in frustration, “You can get hired legally for that! You don’t have to do it illegally!!”

Sigryn comes over with a tray of drinks for everyone, some spiked lemonade. “I think they learn the lesson harder when its done off a legal paycheck. Besides, Don’t you do similar to us, Daring? You steal things from temples and ruins..” Sig smirked, sipping her own drink. “But thats different!! I’m legally allowed to because its covered under anomalous archeology!! Its my job to collect and neutralize the unstable artifacts for the safety of the world!” Carmen puts her glasses back on and goes back to read a paper, “So its not that different, honey, just a different boss to answer to. Where here, that boss may be you someday.” Skyggja turns, holding the arm, and reattaches it with a couple clicks. Carmen flexes her hand, and moves it around to make sure everything is connected and functioning properly. Daring turns to leave, her mother calling after her, “Just talk to M, he’ll help you out!” Skyggja chuckles as Daring leaves, “You sure have a firecracker there. If she comes around, she’s gonna be a spittin image.” Carmen smirks, “I think she’ll warm up to the idea. She just needs time. Ooh I just got a craving for pickled beets and peanut butter, out of now where.. weird.” Sigryn laughs, “That sounds like a pregnancy craving if I ever heard one! Such a weird combo!” Carmen sips her spiked lemonade, “Nah, I’ve been on a strong birth control since having Blendin. I have unusually high levels of hormones during my cycles and I had to cap it somehow. Not even Kiros could get me pregnant with these pills. Besides, its not so weird, folks used to roast whole onions stuffed with peanut butter about a century ago and it was a household favorite! I personally havent tried it but pickled beets cant be too much different!”

Skyggja raised an eyebrow, “You capped your hormones during cycles yet some of us STILL can’t keep up with your stamina during your heats.” The mare shrugged, “I’m a medical marvel apparently between that and my disability to use my natural unicorn magic. Other than that I used to be perfectly normal!” Skyggja’s mechanical eyes whirred a bit, “Right, well ya ain’t normal anymore. Maybe you should cut back on the drinkin till after you get back. You said your stomach wasn’t too happy with the nerves, and who knows what the portal may do, especially since Lekir said the environment is different.” Carmen waved the notion off, downing the rest of the drink. “I’ll be fine. Thats why I’m double checking with you about my augments. If I can get used to the atmosphere quickly, I’ll be right as a rainbow.”

Within a few hours, Wally had returned, and had a small pill bottle in hand. He went to put it in his medicine cabinet after reading the label when Carmen knocked on the doorframe, “Hey, how’d the appointment go?” Wally smiled and shrugged, “Fine I guess. I got prescribed a new medication that may help slow the crystal growth and help with the pain. Still no word on a cure. But its better than nothing.” She smiled and rubbed his arm comfortingly. “We’ll find a way. I promise. Now you have everything you need while I’m gone? Because once I’m on the other side, its hard for me to get back on short notice.”

He nods, “I think we’ll be just fine. I’m already kinda feeling better. And I haven’t even had the new pill yet.” She points to him, “Take the medicine, even if you feel better now. You still need to take it. The doctors say it will help in the long run. I’ll check that bottle when I get back if I have to.” She chuckles.

Soon it was time to depart, Lekir sent word that they were ready and a shimmering portal appeared with a figure of a gracefully lanky black fox with green tipped ears, a green stripe along her back and emerald eyes, she was dressed in a modern version of a greek muse, the pale green shirt was billowy with draping sleeves and matching dress pants. Lekir crossed her arms and glared at the arriving figure, “Hello Kalai, Its about time you showed up..” The newcomer sneered smugly and got close to Lekir, growling, “About time you begged me to send you back, I expected more groveling.” The two growled fiercely at each other before bursting out laughing, giving each other a big hug. Lekir laughed, “Its soo good to see you, is everything ready for our arrival?” Kalai wiped a laughing tear from her eye and nods, “Oh of course! Everything is all set and ready. And you must be Carmen, I’ve heard so much about you. You are absolutely glowing!” Carmen blushed as Kalai looked her over, “Its a pleasure to meet you, and I’m just nervous. I’ve obviously never been to Cador and I’ve heard so many stories about it.” Kalai smirked, “Its a certainly more than that but I’ll explain more when you’re settled and checked out.” Carmen hesitated, “Checked out? Like customs and quarantine right?” Kalai tilted her head, “Its a medical standpoint to see how far along you are and to see how your new blood is effecting you.” Carmen relaxed a bit, “Oh right, haha, to see how far I’ve adapted to this, right. Got it.” Kalai chuckled with a confused look, “Did you forget that I can sense all life and health? Or did Lekir not relay that.” Lekir huffed, “No, I told her everything I knew!”

Carmen reached out in a sudden thought, right before Kalai was about to speak, “Wait! So that means you can heal, right? Like take diseases away? May I ask a favor before we depart? My husband, Waldo, has been inflicted by what we call Vivian’s Burden. Its fatal with no cure. We haven’t had any luck finding anything that helps. Can you help him?” Kalai sighed and had him stand near her since she couldnt stray far from the portal without it closing. She looked him over, “You recently took out all the shards of crystal?” Wally nodded, “We try to take out any that we see.” Kalai turns to Carmen, “I do not do these for charity, I do require payment and the cost will be steep. Are you prepared to pay my fees for such a service, even in your condition?” Carmen gave a confused face and looked herself over, “My condition? Like my limbs? Whatever my condition, yes I will pay whatever the price, I have plenty of money or priceless art, or if I dont have what you want, I can get it with no issues... Just.. we’re running out of time to find him a cure. He has less than a year and a half before it starts getting to his vitals.” Kalai looked her over and proceeded to reach out her hand, touching Wally’s chest and with a soft green glow, she pulled the illness from him absorbing it into herself and destroying it, healing his wounds from the crystals. “We shall discuss payment when you get settled then, and it will not be monetary.”

Wally lifted his shirt and smiled wide, laughing, “Holy moley! I feel amazing! I didn’t realize how much strength I lost!” He did a couple hops and ran over to Carmen, picking her up and twirling her, giving her a deep kiss. “Oh this is wonderful! Thank you Kalai! I have a new lease on life!” He woops out. Carmen smiles and laughs, “Better thank Lekir too! She’s the one who knows Kalai and had her come here!” Wally went right over to Lekir and gave a big bear hug to which Lekir patted his back and felt awkward. “Thank you so much!” Lekir pried him from her with a chuckle, “Yeah, no prob. I didn’t realize this was the answer you all were looking for.. “ Kalai smiled, “Its may not have been the main reason for my being here but if a life can be saved, I’m happy to help. Now, say your farewells for now, I’ll have you back safely within one month of your calendar.” M takes a draw from his cigarette and strides up to Kalai. “You better fuckin keep them safe. Those two are my charges, and I don’t like being fuckin far from them. If anything happens to them, I will have no issue rending your flesh into fuckin paste, myself.” Kalai looked at him and suddenly whipped vines from the ground to twist around him tightly, sapping his strength from full to near completely depleted, his breathing labored as he wriggled. She gets close to him, the vines pulling him lower to his knees, she ripped the cigarette out of his mouth and tossed it, “And You should not be smoking near a mother to be! I have much to discuss about her and her son.”

Carmen raised an eyebrow, “Wait, you mean Blendin? He’s just turning 18…” Kalai never broke eye contact with M, “No, no, your other son.”

“I don’t have another son. I have a daughter.”

“I’m talking about the son you carry in your belly this very moment!”

Carmen’s hands instantly went to her stomach, “Wait, I’m actually pregnant?! How?! I literally just had this conversation.. I was on birth control since having Blendin! Do they not work anymore?!… oh my god they dont work anymore. Why dont they work anymore?!” She starts panicking and Lekir rubs her back soothingly, getting her some ice water. “It could be the demon blood.. your transformation could be enough to override it. Normally non Cadorian females who carry Cadorian Demon babies cant survive the pregnancy, but you can since you have had the blood transfer.” Lekir explained. Kalai smiled over to Carmen, keeping M bound still, “I thought you knew already, I apologize but this way I can assess both your abilities and progress! This has only happened once before with a human but never a unicorn! I’m very eager to learn what I can if you are willing to let me observe while you train your new skills.” She turned back to M and used her power to read his biology and such, smirking, “Oh.. now you are a strange one. Much different from the individuals in this building. Last time I was here on this planet, nothing like you existed yet.. Oh interesting.. Hmmm Lets keep some of that between us, shall we?” She patted his cheek and let him go, releasing his strength back to him. He stumbled back and shook his head, “What the fuck did you just do to me?!” He roared, his claws lengthening sharply. Kalai flicked her fingers and explodes his bones within his arms before flicking them back, instantly healing him as if no harm was ever done. “I am the Harbinger of Life. I can unmake you as easy as you were made to begin with. I am a scientist of biology and magic. I am older than you can comprehend. I have seen wars and seen my people die around me. I have felt their anguish and pain.” M straightened up and adjusted his jacket, “So we have something in common.” Kalai tilted her head, “You are a being who changes shape. Your biology doesnt show this feature you speak of otherwise. Please elaborate.”

M scoffed but went into detail of his kind and his experiences. “I’m a dark balance changeling, I feed off the negative of life. Every Murphy’s law, every bad luck streak, is my dinner. I use my powers to feed off those emotions of despair and hopelessness and chase it down with survivor’s bittersweet love and pain of the lost one. I don’t just kill and witness death. I absorb it, I feast upon it. Well, I used to kill. Red here has a no kill ban and I agreed to it.” The fox came much closer, her lips almost touching his, she breathes cold air onto him, breathing her experiences of those exact emotions and senses him taking it in. He licks his lips as the glow in his eyes shift slightly, “That was a nice appetizer. I never fuckin expected that.” Kalai smirked tracing her finger along his shirt, “I could feed you for a lifetime with all that I am. Take you home like a lost puppy.” He took her hand from his chest, “Don’t mistake me for a fuckin puppy. I can do more than just bark.” Kalai smirked wider, “Suddenly you have gone from just a passing thought to someone I may actually enjoy. Not many fully understand what I feel, but you do. Interesting for such a strange one.”

M growled, “I have a name. I didn’t just spend two fuckin decades fighting with an ai to say my goddamn name instead of Rude one, I ain’t gonna do it again with you.” The vixen crossed her arms, “Oh I know your name, Marehem Skaedfryd. I was hoping you would take my compliment instead since you don’t care for your full name being spoken. So you go by M, as I was saying, you are a strange one.” M grumped and adjusted his jacket, sticking his hands in his pants pocket, “So. You said a month, yeah? I’ll set my calendar. One month. On the dot. Be here, or I will come there and destroy what I can to get them back, gravity or no gravity.” She laughed, “I have seen extinction level events, you do not frighten me.” M lifted his chin before moving his muzzle next to her cheek, speaking low, “I’ve caused extinction level events. I do not intend to harm you if you do not intend to harm them.” She chides softly, “I am as gentle as a flower but certainly not as frail, no harm will befall them, I assure you.” He puts his hand on her arm, keeping his head close, “Even the smallest and weakest flower can be deadly just as a sturdy flower needs care to not wither.” Kalai licks his cheek, “Perhaps someday I will let you tend my garden. There are no gods to judge, we ate them, haven’t we?” He gave a soft groan, almost a low chuckle. “When we ate them, we became gods ourselves, ain’t that right?” Kalai grins bringing up a hand to cup his neck in a soft embrace, “Then perhaps gods shall lay with gods someday.”

Carmen leans over to Lekir, whispering, “What the fuck am I seeing right now?” Lekir shrugs and whispers back, “I dunno.. I wanna say they’re flirting.”

Carmen gives an unsure grimace, “With M though? Oh maybe he’ll do his fake out that he does with Molli. M never flirts seriously. Any minute he will give the middle finger or something.. any minute..” Lekir shakes her head, “I think he’s serious. Even look at his tail, its curled around both their feet. Not swaying like he’s plotting.” Carmen continues her grimace, “But M though?!” Lekir chuckles, “Almost reminds me of a Death and Deadpool type of chemistry.” Carmen shrugs, “A death and what? Whats a deadpool?” Lekir looked at her wife in disbelief, “Do you not keep up with pop and comic culture? Your own son reads them, ask him. It’ll make sense when you do.” Carmen scoffs, “I read comics! I’ve read… Garfield…” The Vesk pats her shoulder, “When we get back, we’re having a comic crash course.” They look back in time to see M kiss her hand gently, then he catches eye contact with the wives, and flips them his middle finger. “There’s the middle finger.. its just towards us instead of her. Great.”

After Lekir and Carmen finished farewelling, Kalai escorted them through the portal, looking back to give M a wink before the portal closes. Once the girls were gone, the two brothers stood, Wally giving a sheepish grin towards M who had crossed his arms in thought, tapping his chin. M gave a side eye to Wally, “What the fuck are you lookin at?” Wally grinned and chuckled, “M has a crush~” M cackles, “Right, and you are the king of Scotland. Bullshit.” Wally singsongy teased him, “You think she’s preeeetty, I think you liiiiike her, you wanna kiiiisssss her..” M grabbed him by the shirt neck and made a fist, “If you dont fuckin quit..”

“Mom hasn’t been gone five minutes and already you’re fighting like children?! This place is in a more sorry state than I thought.” Daring stood in the doorway, hands on her hips. “And what is a little pipsqueak like you gonna do?” M towered over her. She smirks as Kiros comes up behind her. “I’ll ask her next strongest agent to help me keep things under control.” Kiros grinned as he cracked his knuckles, “Daring and I have been getting along quite well. Now whats this I hear about M having a crush?”

#mlp oc pony #carmen pondiego #ask blog #story update #ao3 fanfic #marehem #Lekir #skyggja #sigryn #Kalai #mayternity #waldo #ravidel soltek

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