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meowcats734 · 3 months

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[Soulmage] With only a single coin left to your name you wander the slums in hopelessness. That is until a shady looking peddler appears before you. They promise to give you an item that can help you with all of your problems and they ask for only a single coin in return.

Knwharfhelm was a squat city, wide where the Silent Peaks were tall. From a distance, it almost reminded me of a splash of water on stone. It straddled the Crystal Coast, the glittering of seawater that was its namesake visible even from outside the city.

Lucet finished hauling the last skeleton into the merchant's cart while Jiaola counted out coins. I had no idea what the value of the local currency was, but even though Jiaola and Sansen had left the Crystal Coast decades ago, they still had a decent head for money. After finishing the transaction, Jiaola split our newfound riches into five equal pouches.

"Alright, gang," I said. "What're we spending our newfound riches on?"

"Shelter?" Sansen offered.

"A healer," Lucet suggested.

"A workshop," Jiaola said.

"As an immortal demon, I need none of those," Meloai said. "But I'd be happy to help you out!"

Man, organizing our priorities was a lot harder when nobody was in imminent danger of freezing, starving, or Iola-ing to death. "I'm with Lucet," I said. "None of us know the first thing about fixing whatever Iola's done to us, but that seems like the kind of thing that's best caught early."

"I know," Jiaola said, "but it'll be expensive. The faster I get a shop set up, the faster I can get new woodworking clients."

"And besides, Knwharfhelm isn't a utopia," Sansen added. "Someone shanking you in your sleep to steal your soul will kill you just as easily as Iola's magic."

We all stared at him.

"It doesn't happen often," he said, defensively. "But it's not outside the realm of possibility."

"Right." I massaged my forehead. "Well, I'll defer to you two here. You're the ones who've actually lived in Knwharfhelm, after all."

Jiaola shrugged. "We have a lot of priorities and a lot of people. Seems like it'd be best to split up. Sansen?"

"Hm? Oh." Sansen focused his power, the flames of hope surging, and stared into a possible future. "Nobody's dead by tomorrow. Beyond that, there are too many divergences. Seems like a good place to start, though."

"Great. I'm on workshops, then; I've still got a few connections I can lean on," Jiaola said.

"I'll look for rooms to rent," Sansen added.

"I can go try to find a job! I've never done that before!" Meloai chimed in.

"I'll... supervise you," Lucet said, a wry smile on her face.

"Guess that leaves me to find a healer," I finished. "Unless any of you would be better?"

Jiaola shook his head. "Never needed a healer when I was here. Wouldn't have seen us, anyway."

"Any tips for navigating?"

"Stick to the main streets, and just flash some magic if anyone tries to give you trouble," Jiaola said. "Meet back here at sundown?"

"Will do," I said.

And with that, the five of us split up, headed towards the clamor and clangs of Knwharfhelm.

It was clearly a port city to its bones. Merchants on caravans flowed steadily through the grand metal gates, pulled by clockwork horses. Huh. Using Demons of Insecurity as a cheap workforce? I guess Meloai would fit right in. There were customs checks at the gates, but it seemed like they were largely concerned with the caravans; a bored-looking guard gave me a once-over before waving me through.

The inside of the city was a riot of smells and sounds—rotting fish and human sweat, merchants' calls and hollered bets—but to my surprise, it was rather manageable. I'd expected the runoff of an entire city to create a suffocating stench, especially given the lack of visible plumbing. I got my answer a moment later when a cart laden with refuse stopped in a nearby alleyway, its driver disembarking—and tearing open a rift into the Plane of Elemental Vacuum, tipping the contents of the cart through the portal before leaving the rift to seal itself. I snickered. Yeah, dumping your garbage into another dimension was a pretty good way of keeping the city clean.

Curious, I opened my soulsight, and nearly fell flat on my face at the sudden assault of souls. The collective souls of the city practically made a tiny world of their own, a swirl of emotions that shone as bright as a star. I stumbled into a nearby alleyway, fighting to shut off my soulsight—

"Drop the pouch, girl."

I grimaced, returning to reality. Great. Somehow, in my blind staggering, I'd made my way into an alley, and a man with a blade had gotten between me and the main street.

I considered throwing a spell his way as Jiaola had advised, but... I'd come here to find a refuge from violence. Not perpetuate more of it. It was just money; we could earn it back.

I reached to my belt to comply with his demand, but the man waggled his knife, taking one step closer to me in the deserted, hot alleyway. "Slowly. No weapons. And if you try to call for help, I'll give you something to scream about."

The worst part was, he looked... bored. A quick glance at his soul showed none of the sadism or dark glee I expected from someone who mugged kids in alleyways for a living—just a resignation to necessity, and a blade to enforce his will.

Reading my expression, the mugger tsked. "Oh, don't make that face. I'm leaving you with the clothes on your back. All I'm taking is a handful of coppers—it's not going to kill you."

It very well might, asshole, I thought to myself. But the invisible ticking clock of my illness wasn't something I could show him, and even if I could, I doubted he'd have any sympathy. So I just handed over the coin pouch—

"On the floor, then step back," the man said.

Ugh. Reflexively, a part of me reached for the magic in my soul—

—howling, glacial winds that turned flesh to stone—

—torrents of fire that seared the soul—

—wiping the stains from my shoes—

I pushed away my reflexive action with an effort of will. The man was right. It was just a handful of copper coins. Not worth ending a life over.

Even if the life in question was his.

Maybe I could have scared him off with a warning shot, but... I didn't want to risk hitting someone by accident. So I dropped the pouch and stepped back. He picked it up, never taking his eyes off me; despite his caution, a single coin plinked out of the pouch and rolled into the gutter. His eyes flickered towards it, maybe weighing the costs of grabbing it or making me do it for him, then sighed.

"Keep the change."

And with that, he walked backwards, blade still drawn, before melting into the flow of traffic on the main street.

I sighed, then held out a hand, willing love to the surface of my soul. The coin in the gutter leapt into my palm. I shouldn't have been afraid to use my magic. I shouldn't have been afraid to scare him off. I shouldn't have—

—souls of the dying like falling stars—

—blood frozen solid crunching beneath my feet—

—we died warm—

I scowled, shaking the memories from my head. Regardless of what I should or shouldn't have done, my problem was the same: I needed to find a healer, and now I didn't even have anything to pay with. Just one copper coin and a bevy of spells that could kill a man in a heartbeat. I scowled as I turned to the other end of the alleyway.

"That's a mighty fine coin you've got there, miss," a kid called out.

I glared, homing in on the child with my soulsight, and turned to the roof. "Were you watching the whole time?" I snapped.

The kid shrugged. "It's what I do," they simply said.

"Yeah, well, you're not very observant. I'm not a girl, asshat. And this coin is worthless."

The kid tilted their head. "If it's so worthless, why don't you give it to me?"

I laughed, disbelieving. "Are you seriously going to try to mug me right after I've already been robbed? Fuck, I have had it with this city." Then again, if the alternative was the warzone in the Redlands... at least nobody here seemed murderously insane. Yet.

"No. No mugging. Just a fair trade." The kid stood up, then—to my shock—reached into their soul and chipped off a chunk. "Memory for a memory," they said.

"I..." I blinked in surprise. Despite my experience with magic, there were still entire schools of spells that I had yet to learn. "I don't know how to give someone else a memory," I admitted.

The kid frowned. "What do you mean? It's in the soul of the coin."

"Coins don't have souls," I said.

"What is a soul, if not a memory? And what is that coin, if not a memento of your travels?" The kid recited with the practiced rhythm of someone who had heard a saying a thousand times. "Give me the coin, and I'll give you a memory you'll need."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? And what's that?"

The kid grinned. "The name of someone who buys memories. And it seems to me that you've got a bit of a surplus."

I looked down at my empty belt, the notable absence of the pouch of coins at my hip.

Then I looked back up at the kid. Even here, in the sweltering summer heat, I still remembered the shrieks of snow and ice.

I held out my hand.

Then I flicked the coin towards the kid, sending it tumbling end over end over end.

A.N.

Soulmage is a serial written in response to writing prompts. Stick around for more episodes, or join my Discord to chat about it!

First

Table of Contents

#writing #writing prompt #writers on tumblr #writers of tumblr #writblr #serial fiction #fiction #series #web serial #oc #soulmage #fantasy #high fantasy #magic #worldbuilding

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silens-oro · 11 months

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Borealis PROLOGUE

Joel Miller x afab!Reader

Cut the ties that bind us My chest will cease to rise Bear in mind my likeness Eternal in your eyes You're my Borealis You're the lines in my brow You're the turning seasons You're the breath in my mouth

Synopsis: After spending the majority of her post-outbreak life with Marlene and the Fireflies, the reader abandons the Denver QZ and the Fireflies altogether with Tommy once they both realize that the organization is losing more ground than it is gaining -that the cause is no longer attainable. One year after finding Jackson, she still finds it hard to acclimate and ends up abandoning Tommy and their complicated past by joining back up with Marlene to head east. Learning the reader wants to return to Wyoming after spending the last five years traversing the country, Marlene has one final favor to ask on her way out.

Word Count: 1,320 Warning: post-outbreak, angst, reader was 18 when the outbreak happened. AN: The first true chapter will be released tomorrow! Please reblog, like, and comment 💗

No “y/n” mentioned.

Series Masterlist The Last of Us Playlist

Late Summer 2018 Jackson, WY

“What is this?” Tommy questioned as he stepped into the little shop you had cleared out for your woodworking studio in the year you had been in Jackson. You were sitting at the table in the corner that usually had precarious stacks of wood that you’d eventually whittle away at, hand holding the receiver as Marlene spoke on the other end of the ham radio that Tommy hadn’t seen before. He said your name softly, but the look on his face held clear betrayal.

“I’ll be there. Over.” You spoke into the receiver, not taking your eyes off of the man who seemed to take up most of the room with his mere presence. You didn’t wait for Marlene to respond as you flipped the switch to the ham radio off. Silence filled the room and the tension began to grow thick in the space that occupied the five feet between you.

“Please tell me that’s not who I think it is.” Tommy broke the silence. “Where did you even get that?” He motioned to the radio. “Maria was very clear when she said no outside contact on the radios. I haven’t spoken to my brother in a year and you’re talking to Marlene under everyone’s noses?”

“Do you genuinely want an answer?” You unplugged the radio from the outlet, placed it in a box, and shoved it under the table.

“Why are you talking to her?” There was only one reason why you’d be contacting Marlene -and it was you contacting her, not the other way around- this Tommy knew.

“I,” You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose between two fingers, “I’m done here, Tommy…” Saying the words felt like fire as they left your lips.

“Are you out of your mind?” Tommy took a step forward, head tilting just slightly as if he was gauging your response.

“I will be if I stay here any longer!” Your voice rose, cutting him with a glare. “I don’t expect you to understand-”

“-How can I understand anything when you don’t communicate with me?” Tommy’s voice rose in frustration. “Why are you talking to Marlene?" He repeated. "I want to hear you say it!”

“I’m leaving!” Your voice echoed between the four walls of the small building. Your heart felt as if it was going to pound straight through your chest. “I’m meeting Marlene in Cheyenne and we're going east.” You stood slowly from the rickety chair, but didn’t take any steps to close the space between you and Tommy.

“I can’t stay here.” You spoke with finality.

“And what about me?” Tommy’s expression hardened.

“Tommy-”

“No! Were you even going to say anything or were you just going to take off?” He motioned to your full pack next to the table. Your eyes broke contact with his in shame. A humorless laugh left him when you didn’t answer.

“Why do you insist on doing this to yourself?” You didn’t answer his question. “What are you going to find out there? Huh? You have stability. You have a roof over your head, food in your stomach, clothes on your back, and a safe place to lay your head at night -and you’re trading that for what?”

“Don’t,” You grabbed your pack and went to move around Tommy, but he stepped in your path to block the door.

“Don’t what? Don’t question why you choose to push yourself further into unnecessary misery? Don’t ask why you still refuse to let me in? Don’t ask why it is so fucking easy for you to leave? Don’t what?! You’re going to have to narrow it down for me.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.” You spat as you shoved a finger in his face. “I told you that it was a mistake the second I understood your feelings, Tommy. I made myself crystal clear.”

“There’s that self-sabotage that I’m very well acquainted with when it comes to you, ready to rear its ugly head at the first sign of confrontation. Better to cause the pain than be on the receiving end of it, right?” He wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t make his words hurt any less. In the only way you knew how, you doubled down -refusing to give in.

“I told you that I could never give you what you’re looking for. I told you and you still got your feelings hurt. That’s not my fault!” You threw a cabinet open and grabbed the last of your canned goods before kneeling down to your pack and shoving them inside.

“You’re not turning this around on me!” He reprimanded from behind you.

“I’m done with this conversation, Tommy.” You said over your shoulder as you stood up, shouldering the straps of the backpack so they sat comfortably.

“As long as you feel like you have the control, then you’ll be fine, right? That my feelings don’t matter? As long as you can shut yourself down, it doesn’t matter what destruction you leave in your wake. Guess what? I fucking matter!” Tommy shouted, digging a finger into his chest.

“Of course you fucking matter!” You shouted back. “I am acutely aware of how you feel about me, Tommy, and I have never given you the slightest inclination that I reciprocated.”

“Really?” Tommy’s eyes narrowed. “We share a house!”

“-That we were given by Maria!” You argued.

“You sleep in my bed more than your own, for fuck’s sake! When you want companionship -when you decide you can’t spend every night in this shop or out on patrol- you come crawling into my bed, not the other way around, so don’t even fucking start with me about you not reciprocating anything.” Spittle flew from Tommy’s mouth, his frustration and anger radiated off of him in waves. “It may not be conventional, but it is your fucked up way of showing affection. We’ve been through too much together. You wouldn’t have stuck around for so long if you felt otherwise and you know it, so spare me the fucking bullshit.” He narrowed the space between you and brought his hands up to hold your neck on either side. “Please,” Tommy begged, “think about this.” You shook your head.

“This wasn’t a last minute decision, Tommy.” He rolled his eyes, letting you go so he could pace, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Of course it wasn’t.” He said sarcastically. Trying to express what you needed to without having a breakdown was like trying to balance on the sharp edge of a knife.

“I’m crawling in my own fucking skin here, Tommy! I am suffocating! I’m constantly walking on eggshells because I don’t. Fucking. Fit. Everyone here knows it -I know it, Maria knows, and the rest of this fucking town knows it. The only person who doesn’t seem to get it is you!” It took everything in you to not rip your hair out. “I see the way they look at me, Tommy. I hear what they say. This might be home to you, but it isn’t to me. I tried. I tried so hard to adjust, to fit, but I’m coming to terms with the fact that Jackson isn’t meant for me.” You willed the tears away that you could feel building. The feeling of your throat constricting wasn’t something you encountered often, if ever. These types of emotions had no place in the world you lived in, but Jackson was making you soft in ways that you hated.

“At any point in the last year you could’ve said something! Anything! Instead you chose to suffer in silence until it builds up and detonates like it is right now! I don’t care what you say, this isn’t a rational decision and quite frankly, this is one of the dumbest things you’ve done in the five years I’ve known you. Don’t give up your life, your future, for Marlene.”

“Fuck you, Tommy." You shoved past him, picking up your rifle from next to the door. You paused at the door, looking back at the man who held nothing but defeat in his eyes. "I'm not doing this for Marlene."

AN: YEEEEHAW I'm very excited to get this rolling.

#the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #the last of us imagine #the last of us fic #tlou imagine #tommy miller imagine #tommy miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #tlou fic #borealis fic #x reader #angst #reader insert

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commander-krios · 7 months

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BG3 Backstory Bash by Kelandrin

I was tagged by @lemonsrosesandlavender, thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuu

Tagging: @eluvisen, @darth-salem-emperor-of-earth, @mimabeann, @starknstarwars, @greyias, @captainsigge and @fistfuloftarenths

This is a challenge to help people flesh out their Tav’s backstory by exploring their past. It is organized into four sections with seven prompts. You can treat this as a monthly challenge or a general project. You can write headcanons, fics, or share art based on the prompts! You can interpret the prompts however you want. If you want to share use the tag #bg3backstorybash

Juniper

Baby

Birth & Parents: Juniper was born in Neverwinter to a half-elf craftsman (Feanor) and a tiefling sorcerer (Elara). She grew up moderately wealthy and deeply loved by her parents. Feanor woodworked for a living in a small shop in the city, creating instruments for the wealthy and the poor (most times donating lyres and lutes for free to orphanages). Her mother was a sorcerer employed to a local patriar, mostly making potions or other alchemical things for him and his family. They made good gold thanks to their positions and provided Juniper with the best life they could.

Childhood

Friends/Siblings: No siblings, she is an only child. She had a rather small group of friends, majority because of her heritage as a tiefling. But the friends she did have were some of her favorite people. One in particular, Lymrith, was a dragonborn who was in much the same position of being shunned by many in Neverwinter and they formed a close bond.

Birthday: I don't have an exact date, it's sometime in Midsummer.

Learning and Playing Games: Juniper was given the best education her parents could afford. Elara taught her a lot of magic when she was young and it was apparent that she was a sorcerer as well, but when it was proven that she had wild magic, they opted to train her as a bard, hoping that it would help her control her gift. Feanor sent her to a bard college in Waterdeep for a time when she was a teenager.

Trauma: The biggest trauma of her childhood was losing her mother to an alchemical accident when she was seven. One day, her mother never came home, and it will always haunt her.

Youth

First Love: Her first love was a fellow bard she met in Waterdeep. It was, in the end, just a fling, but Juniper always harbored feelings for the little elven woman who captured her heart for the first time.

Rebellion and Running Away: Juniper never wanted to run away, but she did want to be an adventurer and traveling bard. She wanted to experience the tales that she sang about, wanted to meet people, to be the story. She was a free spirit, always getting into trouble, and was definitely a handful for Feanor when her mother passed, but he encouraged her antics since it brought her joy and didn't harm anyone, much.

Peer Pressure, Risk Taking and Responsibility: Juniper takes risks more often than not, mostly because she believes they are worth the result in the end. She didn't have all that many friends, but it isn't difficult to convince her to do something stupid. She's not into the risks associated with drugs or alcohol (usually) but if something sounds fun, she's usually down. She's also just as likely to accept responsibility. She wants to prove herself and sometimes takes on more than she can handle, but she has good intentions.

Growing Pains: She had a very difficult time after her mother's death. She was young, confused, and all she knew was that her mother was gone. She blamed her mother's employer, blamed her father, blamed her mother, for what happened. It took time for her to come to terms with her grief.

Adulthood

Leaving Home: She left for the first time when she was a teenager, to attend a bard college in Waterdeep, but as an adult, she went from city to city to small town etc as a traveling bard. It was difficult for Feanor who only had her left after Elara's passing, but he also loved seeing her flourish and knew it was in her best interest to leave.

First Time: It was in a tavern after one of her first shows. A younger man, most likely a mercenary or thief, human, moderately good looking. They used each other for a bit of fun and that was that. Juniper didn't put much importance on the act of sex, it felt nice but it was just sex.

Serious Relationships: Platonically, her most serious relationship (besides her familial bond with her father) is probably Karlach. They are ride or die besties, do everything together. Juniper was one of the only people willing to travel to Avernus and fight Zariel face to face for her. Romantically, the only serious romance she had prior to Rolan was her dragonborn paladin bf, Lymrith. Even after breaking up, they are still close and she will always love him. Then, there is Rolan. He is everything to her, makes her try harder to be serious, but also knows that if she can't, he'll still love her no matter what. He is the only person she can ever truly say she's in love with and has been in love with. That earth shattering, world ending love.

Aging: Juniper dislikes aging for how it slows her down. She stays in the Tower more, does less work in the city or with the bard college in Baldur's Gate. And she dislikes it immensely. She's always used to being on the move that when she is forced to sit still by her own body, she goes stir crazy. Thankfully, she has Rolan, Lia, Cal, and her friends to keep her grounded. One of the biggest things that she enjoys about aging, is counting the grey in Rolan's hair (much to his dismay).

Family: Her father, Rolan and his siblings, Zevlor (who becomes a father figure as well), Alfira and Lakrissa, the tiefling kiddos but especially Mirkon, Mattis, Silfy, Ide, and Arabella, Dammon, Bex and Danis, Karlach, Wyll, Gale, Shadowheart, Lae'zel, and reluctantly, Astarion. Also Scratch and the Owlbear. Her family is her friends, the people she loves, and she will do anything for them. She never has children of her own, but with all of the tiefling kids around, she doesn't need to.

Work: Bard, of course, but also teaching. In Baldur's Gate, she finally settles down (with the occasional adventure on the side) and teaches at Alfira's college for a time. She also does private lessons and performs at taverns in the city.

Finding Her Place: Juniper was a traveling bard for much of her young life, and while she had a home back in Neverwinter, she never gave it much thought because she loved life on the road. But she found her place in Baldur's Gate after the Netherbrain, with Rolan and his family.

#bg3backstorybash #tav: juniper #bg3 tav #i did this instead of writing #oops

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leiainhoth · 11 months

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Woodworker Din meta

AND THE DIN VERSION, HELL YEAH

If he had the choice, and was under no external influence, he'd wear the same pair of jeans, same t-shirt and same zip-up hoodie 24/7

he also has reading glasses, and can't drive without wearing sunglasses, oftentimes the round lenses Luke keeps in the front console of the Subaru

Luke taught him how to surf when they first moved in together, and the sight of Luke pulling off his wetsuit did things to his psyche he hasn't quite been able to forget

His favourite movie is the Sound of Music, and they watch it together on his birthday every year

He's an amateur photographer and often takes his camera out with them on hikes; photographing Luke just as often as the nature around him

He's not a picky eater, but he prefers familiar foods and recipes over fancier choices.

His favourite restaurant in town is a fish and chips shop right on the bay

He started making a canoe out of a felled tree on their property four or so years ago, and when he's feeling meditative, he goes out and works on it

Din cuts Luke's hair, and also taught him how to shave with a straight blade

Their tools are organized on peg boards, and are all kept in perfect working order at all times. The electrical components of their hand tools and small appliances are checked on a regular basis.

His toolbelt is one of the last tangible things he has of his father

But his tools are his adoptive mother's. She was a machinist

He met the Naberrie's all at the same time, sort of by accident.

And he just like

Yearns with a capital Y from afar until Leia takes pity on him

and they've been besties ever since.

One Christmas, Din said that he liked puffer vests and henley's

and that's all Anakin's bought him ever since

so over the years, DIn's wardrobe has grown to resemble the MEC menswear catalogue

he's got the Patagonia quarter zips in like

four colours

he has the hiking backpacks, the fancy knives

but he prefers the carefully kept hunting knife his father gave him over the rest and keeps it tucked in the trunk of the Subaru just in case

he's a man who speaks with his hands

and before he admits his love for Luke, he just... did things for him

he got him tea, makes sure he eats regularly

he fixed the porch swing before Luke noticed it was hanging weird

and the only times he's truly comfortable talking about the Big Stuff

that is

anything bigger than dishes and laundry and when high tide comes

he needs his hands occupied so he can speak his mind

he's loved Luke since he was sixteen

#dinluke #din djarin/luke skywalker #din djarin #alberta dinluke christmas au #dinluke christmas au #meta post

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themollyjay · 3 months

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Coming in 7 Days!

Rhapsody: Hearts of Heroes 4 By Molly J. Bragg Coming July 15th From Desert Palm Press

Megan Harwood never wanted to be a hero. She just wanted to indulge the two great loves of her life, woodworking and music, and for the last few years, she’s done just that running a small guitar making business in Sun City Florida with her dad’s help. But when Megan refuses to sell her shop, she ends up on the hit list of the Unitarium, an organized crime syndicate made of up supervillains and their minions.

After being grabbed off the street and used as a test subject in one of their experiments, Megan begins hearing a woman’s voice in her head. A voice that turns out to be Eurion, the beautiful woman Megan has had a crush on for the past year. A woman who also claims to be an ancient red dragon. With Eurion’s guidance, Megan is able to escape from the Unitarium’s clutches, and in the process, she discovers that they have infiltrated the Department of Metahuman Affairs.

Before Megan can decide who to trust, she finds herself framed for Eurion’s murder, putting her squarely in the crosshairs of some of the world’s most powerful Superheroes. Frightened, alone, with only the voice in her head for guidance, Megan has to find a way to rescue Eurion and clear her name, before Eurion’s friends hunt her down.

Read the first 3 chapters for free.

Preorder Now At Amazon Desert Palm Press Use code 10DPP for a 10% Discount

#lesfic #lesbian books #wlw books #lgbt books #sapphic books #queer books #trans characters #trans main character #lesbian fiction #wlw fiction #lgbt fiction #sapphic fiction #rhapsody #hearts of heroes

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kanerallels · 7 months

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A little late, but the first few chapters of my first-ish Chenford fic are up! They're also prompt fulfillment for @monthly-challenge's Februfluff, day 27: stuck together. First chapter under the cut, the second is up on AO3!

Some people had a hard time believing in the impossible. Lucy Chen had never been one of those people. Sure, it probably helped that she was a vigilante who could manipulate light energy with her bare hands, but that hadn’t always been the case. There had been a time she was just like everyone else.

But that had been a long time ago. Now, when night fell, she was Lyra, one of many vigilantes that patrolled the streets of L.A., looking for people in need and crime to fight.

Usually, her version of crime fighting saw her out on the streets in her disguise, fighting muggers. But there were the occasional circumstances that required a slightly more delicate approach. And today was one of those circumstances— a restaurant that one of her fellow vigilantes suspected was running drugs out of the back room.

Hence why she was sitting at a table in a nice dress, eating dinner across from the last person in the world she would have expected to be sitting across from about two months ago.

Lucy had met Tim Bradford approximately three months into her work as Lyra. Ex-cop turned woodworking shop owner, he’d been serious and a little grim, but respectful. Lucy had been curious about him when Jackson, her roommate, mentioned him, and had slowly gotten to know him better as time went by— his shop was a few storefronts down from the coffee shop where Lucy was currently employed.

Around the same time, she’d met Orion— the stern, incredibly boss vigilante who was known as the Huntsman by local gangs. He was notorious for his intense attitude, vicious but generally nonlethal attacks, and strict adherence to police procedure when necessary.

Lucy had mostly just found him annoying. Especially since he had a habit of showing up in the middle of her work and lecturing her on what she was doing wrong. And he called her “boot” a lot— which, thanks to being roommates with a cop, she knew what meant. This did not make it any less obnoxious.

They’d gotten off to a rough start, but it wasn’t long before Lucy found herself working with Orion more and more often. He was smart, and they made a good team. And he’d saved her life more times than she could count at this point— although it was definitely true the other way around as well. Which Lucy never let him forget.

All things considered, she shouldn’t have been surprised to find out Orion was Tim. The attitude, some of the jokes, the rookie cop nickname and the stickler for procedure attitude? It made perfect sense.

Somehow, it had still surprised her when she found out. Although her reaction had definitely surprised Tim, and Lucy snorted in amusement at the memory.

Glancing up from his steak, Tim lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” Lucy said, waving a hand. “Just— do you remember when I found out who you were?”

“You mean when I found out who you were?” Tim corrected her. “I basically handed it to you on a platter.”

Rolling her eyes, Lucy said, “As if I didn’t do the same thing for you. Anyways, I was just thinking about it, how I reacted.”

“Oh, I remember that part pretty well,” Tim said with a dramatic wince, and Lucy scoffed.

“If you didn’t want to get slapped, you shouldn’t have called me boot so many times.”

“You’re sounding a little too pleased with yourself there, Chen.”

“Uh-huh.” Holding back a grin, Lucy glanced around the restaurant again. It was a nice place, with a bar at the back and instrumental music playing in the background, overlaid with people’s conversation. You wouldn’t think a place like this would be a front of some kind.

“Hey.” Tim’s voice cut through her thoughts, and she looked back at him. His expression serious, he said, “Stay sharp. Just because it’s got a pretty cover doesn’t mean the Ghost’s intel is off. Generally, she knows what she’s talking about.”

Nodding, Lucy said, “Right, got it. But— how exactly do we find what we’re looking for, here? I mean, we’re probably not going to just stumble across a cash exchange— and even if we did, we’re civilians right now.”

“Which is why tonight is about surveillance and keeping a low profile,” Tim told her. “We watch the waiters and the rest of the staff, and if we can, we’ll get a look inside the kitchens. Anything we can get pictures or proof of, we bring to Lopez, and she gets a search warrant.”

“Got it.” Tapping her fingers against the tabletop, Lucy resisted the urge to look around the restaurant again. No matter how much she wanted to catch these people, she couldn’t make herself conspicuous. It was better to focus on what was in front of her instead.

Namely, Tim, who looked just as impatient as she felt— if the people around them were supposed to think this was a date, they weren’t giving much of an impressive performance. Time to change things up a little.

Leaning forward, Lucy said, “Okay. Tell me about work.”

“What?”

Lucy couldn’t hold back a grin at Tim’s baffled expression. “Come on— we’re supposed to be on a date. If we just sit here in impatient silence, that’s not really going to sell it.”

Nodding, Tim said, “Good point. Uh… work was good. Celina’s finally learning how to use the woodstain without getting it everywhere, which is an upside. She’s a good kid, though. Nolan was right to hire her— don’t tell them I said that, though.”

“What, do you think they’ll figure out that you have a heart?” Lucy said, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly. I can’t be seen as the good guy here, you know.” Tim quipped back, and she laughed.

“I’m pretty sure that ship has long since sailed.”

“That’s not what you said when we first met.”

Rolling her eyes, Lucy said, “Okay, that barely counts. You were intentionally mean then— wait. Which time are we talking about?”

“Which time are you talking about?” Tim countered.

“The second first time,” Lucy said. “You showed up and immediately started telling me everything I was doing wrong—”

“To be fair, you could have been killed if I hadn’t—”

“—and you wouldn’t stop calling me boot. The first first time you were a lot nicer. Or… less mean, at least.”

“Because you were a customer,” Tim said, taking a drink from his glass of water, “not a rookie vigilante who was about to let a two bit criminal stab her because she hadn’t secured him properly.”

Pointing at him, Lucy said, “See, if this was a real date, this is the part where I’d throw a glass of water in your face and stomp off dramatically.”

Holding up his hands, Tim said, “Hey, you’ve improved a lot since then.”

“Improved?”

“Well, what do you want me to say?”

Tapping her finger against her chin thoughtfully, Lucy said, “Hmm. How about… “Lucy, you’re the best rookie I’ve ever trained”?”

“First of all, I already said that you were one of the best,” Tim pointed out. “Second of all, you’re not a cop, so it barely even counts.”

“It counts!”

Tim opened his mouth to argue, but something caught Lucy’s eye— a man moving towards the kitchen. In one hand, he held a briefcase, and Lucy could make out the clear outlines of a gun under his suit coat.

“Tim,” she said quietly. His gaze snapped to her immediately, and she nodded to the man disappearing into the kitchen.

Understanding flashed across his face, and she saw his hand twitch, the way it did when he wanted to reach for a gun he no longer wore at his side. “Let’s go,” he said, getting to his feet.

Lucy rose and followed him across the wide main room. None of the other customers so much as glanced at them, and Lucy silently thanked her lucky stars for that.

The main room was partitioned off by low wooden walls framing, but not completely obscuring the dining area. To their left, a walkway led to the entrance. To the right there were two doorways— one leading to the bathrooms. The other at the end of the hall, a swinging door, opened into the kitchen.

As they moved around the corner, Lucy glanced at Tim. “Hey— let me take the first look,” she said, keeping her voice low. “It might look less suspicious if I’m spotted then if you are.”

He gave a brief nod, hanging back a little. As Lucy headed towards the kitchen door, she couldn’t hold back a flicker of pleasure. It couldn’t have been that long ago that Tim wouldn’t have trusted her with this role. Things had changed a lot between them.

Coming to a stop next to the door, Lucy peered over the low swinging door. There was the usual bustle of a restaurant kitchen— cooks weaving their way around each other, the clatter of pans and sounds of voices.

And then Lucy spotted the man with the briefcase. He was talking to another man, with short blond hair and a scar cutting across his brow. The two of them spoke in voices low enough that Lucy couldn’t quite make out what they were saying.

The briefcase sat open on the counter in between them, the contents obscured by the blond man. If I can just get a better angle… Quietly, Lucy stepped closer, her hand coming to rest on the top of the door as she peered into the kitchen.

She caught a brief glimpse of what could only be cash— stacks of it, lining the inside of the briefcase— before the door under her hand moved slightly, letting out what felt like a shatteringly loud creak.

Both men turned at the sound. Lucy’s heart nearly stopped, and she ducked away, turning her face so they wouldn’t catch sight of her. She couldn’t hear what they were saying over the noise in the kitchen, but she knew criminals. They were paranoid, and with good reason. Which meant there would be someone out here to check in a few seconds.

She sensed rather than saw Tim moving up behind her. “They saw you?”

“Only barely,” Lucy said. Her heart had regained momentum, and was pounding against her collarbone now. “But someone’s going to be out here soon.”

It wouldn’t be long— and they wouldn’t be able to make it back to their table without being spotted. Better to stay here and come up with an excuse, and there was only one that Lucy could think of.

Spinning to face him, she said, “Kiss me.”

His jaw dropped, just slightly. “What?”

Lucy caught what sounded like a creak behind them. Abandoning any pretense of explaining the situation to Tim, she caught hold of his face, and kissed him.

He didn’t freeze, which shouldn’t have surprised her. Tim was a natural at adapting, and they’d been working together long enough that it wouldn’t be too hard for him to pick up on what was going on.

What did surprise her was the kiss. It was supposed to be awkward, embarrassing even, to kiss Tim. It was supposed to be something she wanted to get over with quickly, and not linger on.

It was none of those things. It was the opposite, and so much more. Her heart was pounding and she knew there was something she was supposed to remember, but all she could really register was Tim— his lips against hers, his hand at her waist, tangling in the fabric of her dress.

And then someone cleared their throat, loud enough that it broke through the trance she was in and reminded Lucy where she was, and why. Pulling back, she made eye contact with the man who’d been carrying the briefcase.

Before he could have a chance to speak, she did. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Lucy said, letting an embarrassed half-smile cross her face. She was pretty sure she was a little flushed, which definitely couldn’t hurt the illusion. “We, ah, we didn’t realize anyone was back here, did we?”

For a minute, she didn’t know if Tim would chime in— he was completely still. Lucy could feel his heart beating against her palm resting on his chest. But then he said, “Nope. Is this area off limits?”

“No,” the man said after a brief pause. “But the kitchen is. Why don’t you two go back to your seats?”

Lucy shrugged, flicking a nonchalant look at Tim. “I guess this can wait until later. Come on, babe.”

Catching hold of his hand, Lucy gently tugged Tim after her, forcing herself to move casually and not look back. When they reached their table, she sank into her chair and looked down at her half empty plate. As Tim sat across from her, she asked quietly, “Is he still watching us?”

“He just turned and went back into the kitchen,” Tim told her, and Lucy let out a long breath.

Finally, she looked up at him. His expression was set in the Tim Bradford Cop Expression, which was… understandable, honestly. “Hey— I’m sorry about springing that on you,” Lucy told him, feeling herself flush a little. “It just seemed like the best move at the time.”

“It was,” Tim said, shrugging. “It kept us from getting caught, so, you know. Good work on that.”

“Yeah, you too,” Lucy said, and nearly groaned at her own words. Things were awkward now— and why wouldn’t they be? It made a lot more sense for things to feel awkward than for them to feel… the way they had earlier.

She shoved the thought aside as Tim said, “I don’t think we’re going to get anything else here tonight. Should we—”

“Call a night, yeah,” Lucy finished for him. “Great idea. We can debrief and regroup tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” Tim turned and waved for a waiter, and Lucy sat back in her chair, holding back a wince.

They paid for their dinner and left the restaurant. Tim had driven them there, so he drove her back to her place first, and walked her up to her apartment. When they reached the door, Lucy hesitated before she went in.

“We’re okay, right?” she asked. The rest of the thoughts that had been boiling in her head came rushing out as she continued. “I— I know it was out of nowhere and— and weird, right? Obviously it was weird, I just know that PDA makes people uncomfortable, so the guy wouldn’t have questioned it as much, and… yeah.”

Tim had waited patiently through her whole rant. When she finally trailed off, he said, “Lucy. It’s fine. I was a cop, remember? I wasn’t a UC, but I still get it. It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh— of course, right,” Lucy said, a little twinge going through her. Of course he’d get it. And of course it wouldn’t affect him. She should never have thought otherwise, even for a second. “Okay, glad we got that settled. Um— talk to you tomorrow?”

“Talk to you tomorrow, Chen.”

And then Lucy was stepping into her apartment, the door was closing behind her, and she was pretty sure she had a headache.

So she did the logical thing and went to bed before Jackson or Tamara could show up and interrogate her about her date or who she’d been with, internally swearing to not think about the whole thing until tomorrow.

Her dreams had other plans. It was like her traitorous brain insisted on reminding her of the kiss— replaying parts of it over and over again until it was hard not to think about it.

Which was stupid. She didn’t have any reason to think about this so much, Lucy reminded herself as she got up to have breakfast before work. It was just one kiss. Didn’t mean anything, especially not from Tim of all people.

Right, her mind said. Tim. Who you used to be interested in. And WHY did she have to remember that right at this moment?

So she’d been interested in him when they first met. She’d been curious about the admittedly handsome, stern stranger who only softened on very rare occasions. But it hadn’t been long before it had been clear to Lucy that Tim wasn’t looking for romance, with her or anyone else. So she’d stuck with just friends, especially after finding out he was Orion. Romance with Orion was unthinkable on a level she couldn’t begin to comprehend.

Or it had been, anyways.

Okay, enough of that. Lucy pushed the thought out of her mind. And continued to do so as she got ready and went into work.

Lucy had worked at Wellington’s Coffee for almost a year now. It was a nice shop— the decor practical and sturdy, matching the personality of the owner, and the wide windows at the front filled the blue walled shop with light. And, luckily for Lucy, she clocked in today right when the lunch rush started. So she had plenty of time to take her mind off of the fiasco that was last night.

Not that that stopped her co-workers from bombarding her with questions. And they weren’t the only ones.

“So, did I hear you went on a date last night?”

As Lucy passed Aaron his coffee, she frowned at him. “Where did you hear that?”

“If I tell you, will you answer the question?” he countered. The younger man was a usual at their shop, and a good friend. He was also a little too invested in Lucy’s love life ever since she’d asked for his advice on how to break up with her last boyfriend.

Sighing, Lucy said, “Yes. To both, but it wasn’t a big deal— I don’t think we’re going to go out again.”

Aaron’s eyebrows went up. “Really? Cause that’s not what I heard.”

Lucy frowned. “Okay, where exactly are you getting this information?”

“Uh—”

“Lucy!”

Both she and Aaron looked up at the voice calling her name. Tim was striding across the coffeeshop towards her, his expression serious. Which was pretty on brand for him, but Lucy had gotten good at reading the different types of seriousness. There was definitely something wrong right now.

Giving Aaron a brief nod, he turned to her. “Hey. We need to talk.”

“Okay,” Lucy said. “I don’t think anyone’s using the break room right now— follow me.”

She moved out from behind the counter and towards the door marked “employees only” at the back of the shop, Tim on her heels. As she moved, she saw her co-worker, Dark, moving out of the back room, and waved to get his attention. “Hey— I’m taking my break. Can you watch the register?”

“...sure,” Dark said slowly, his voice making it clear he had some questions. Most likely about Tim being there— but honestly, Lucy had neither the time nor energy to handle that.

The break room was, as predicted, empty. Lucy didn’t bother taking a seat, but turned to face Tim. “Okay— what’s up?”

He hesitated, which was definitely rare for him. “Ah… okay. We were seen last night?”

Frowning, Lucy said, “Wait. What do you mean— we weren’t even there as Lyra and Orion, how could we be seen?”

“Not… that kind of seen,” Tim said. “My former watch commander was there having dinner. With his wife.”

What does— and then it clicked, and Lucy’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh, no— did they see—”

“If he and Luna’s visit to the shop this morning, and her comments about the lovely young woman I had with me are anything to judge by… yeah.”

“Crap,” Lucy whispered, with as much emphasis as she could muster up. Starting to pace back and forth, she rubbed a hand across her forehead. “Okay. This is fine— we can figure this out. I mean, we can’t tell them we were undercover, but we can figure this out. What did you tell them?”

Grimacing, Tim said, “That it was a one time thing, and they were reading too much into it. I don’t think they bought it— and they’re not the only ones who know. Luna told their daughter, who’s friends with Nolan’s kid, who told him, who told Celina—”

“Who told Aaron,” Lucy finished, the realization hitting her like a bus. “That explains a lot. Ugh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to blow up this way.”

“Hey,” Tim said, his voice stern but with just a hint of gentleness that definitely didn’t make Lucy’s heart flutter. Because that would be absurd. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have predicted this.”

“Couldn’t have predicted our friends being incredibly nosy?” Lucy said, lifting an eyebrow.

“Well, that’s pretty much a given at this point,” Tim said wryly. “But it’s still not your fault. They’ll forget about this after a week or two— let’s not worry about it right now.”

“Right,” Lucy said, nodding. “Focus on the job instead. Um… oh! I saw what was in the briefcase last night.”

She gave Tim a quick recap of what she’d seen, from the cash to the man with the scar who’d received it. He listened with a deep, thoughtful frown, not speaking until she finished her description. “I’ll have to check with Lopez— but that does sound like a felon she’s been watching for a while now— Valen Rudor, I think. Guy’s got a long list of charges, and a warrant out for his arrest. But if we can’t get proof he’s there—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lucy said, nodding slowly. “Okay— any ideas how?”

“Actually, yeah,” Tim said. “It involves going back to that restaurant again tonight, and you doing some light sneaking while I start a fight. You game?”

Oh, this was a bad idea. After the first time, putting herself in a situation where she had to pretend to be Tim’s date again? There was potential for this to end very badly.

But there was a dangerous felon out there who needed to be stopped, and Lucy didn’t back down from a fight. “Count me in,” she said.After all, she thought as she headed back to work, what’s the worst that could happen?

#februfluff2024 #chenford #tim bradford #lucy chen #aaron thorsen #the rookie #tucy #tw drug mention #tw kissing #fake dating #writing stories is a kind of magic too #chenford vigilante au

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wing-ed-thing · 1 year

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Tenten Domestic Relationship Headcanons

𓆃 Double income household with no kids baybeeee~

𓆃 Tenten decided a while ago that she wasn't for a life with kids, and instead, you're going to live an uber-fulfilling lives full of experiences.

𓆃 Anything that comes to mind, you have the freedom and resources to do anything you want— including that month-long backpacking trip across the Great Nations to look at rare shinobi tools for your honeymoon.

𓆃 With your duel income, it's all about the projects. With a bit of saving, Tenten got her own weapons shop, but before that, she was doing all sorts of crafting on the side.

𓆃 Metalwork, embroidery, woodwork, leatherwork... Tenten has done it all, and every time she gets into a new hobby, you buy all the necessary high quality equipment.

𓆃 She knows exactly what to get and'll seek out the right people to tell her where to get the best tools. It's not unusual for Tenten to invite herself into apprenticeships.

𓆃 Your home will be littered with all sorts of half-finished projects, and crafting materials. It's especially jarring if you or Tenten happen to be in a sewing-esque mood since your mannequins will stand in the most terrifying places for at least a few months.

𓆃 Tenten is messy in the "cluttered" sense. She will leave things lying around in an "organized chaos," but she often forgets where things are leading to you going on an apartment-wide search.

𓆃 You bond over commission work and dinners on the floor. Tenten isn't one for cooking, so if you aren't either, a good portion of your nights will end with one of you going out to grab take-away.

𓆃 It happens so often, that Tenten will just come home after patrols or mission work with your orders already.

𓆃 Sometimes, you like to trick yourselves into thinking you'll cook something. Sometimes it's fun to try new things and rate them, but it's nowhere near restaurant quality.

𓆃 More "college dorm" level, and if Tenten is involved in the kitchen at all, there's a good chance each time that the food turns out terrible and you resort to eating out.

𓆃 All of your favorite places, the employees recognize you and know your order. Tenten loves Indian food.

𓆃 Horrible joint sleep schedule. You just spend your days in the shop, crafting, and selling. And really, what more can you ask for?

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

#tenten x reader #naruto tenten x reader #naruto x reader #naruto headcanon #tenten #naruto headcanons #tenten headcanons #tenten headcanon #naruto x you #naruto x y/n #x you #x reader #naruto reader insert

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vasa-boattours · 8 months

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HWS Switzerland headcanons

Multilingual by default. Also speaks the language of his business partners fluently.

Speaks extra thick Schwyzerdütsch with Gilbert, Ludwig, and Roderich just because he can. Gradually elevates difficulty levels to Berndütsch if they seem to slowly understand the previous levels of Schwytzerdütsch

A lot of Norse countries get credit for surviving harsh winters but he's equally tough. Surviving in a mountainy region with drastic winters is tough work.

Survivalist to the max. MacGuyver's himself through any rural environment.

Good with animals, especially more "difficult to handle" farm animals, like goats, cows, and donkeys. Trains his shepheard dogs perfectly. Doesn't like horses though. Not sturdy enough and too much maintenance. Adores his wildlife, especially vultures.

Usually he doesn't like talking more personally to people but will hold an entire lecture on vultures and their significance in the ecosystem when prompted.

Also trains avalanche-rescue dogs.

Crafty in many departments: Can make his own food (from wheat to bread, milking to tasty aged cheese, etc.), expert forager, knits comfiest socks, hats, and sweaters, excellent first aid skills, expert woodworker, understands the physics of technology in extreme weather conditions, knows how to handle animals (wild or domestic), can fix almost any machinery. For some reason believes that qualifies him to cut his own bangs.

A bit intense when organizing. He's always organized about every event: Winter, business, travel trips, party planning. But he gets irritated if others are lax in this department when they're trying to organize the same thing.

Likes the finer things in life. Everything he surrounds himself with is of good quality whereas not boisterous. It's all very tasteful.

Likes to eat well.

Still drives over the border to shop at the grocery stores of his neighbor countries because the prices are much lower. Still complains about the cheese quality though.

Can be surprisingly charming at first meetings. Treats people with reserved politeness, makes small, light hearted jokes. But he's extremely difficult to get close to on a personal level.

Even spontaneous meeting just to chat are already too familiar to him.

Not uninterested in others but enjoys being mostly by himself.

Actually can be very funny. It's mostly dry humor yet he has an unmatched timing. When he doesn't laugh at anyone else's jokes it's not for not getting them but because he purposefully wants to signal that he doesn't want to dignify that comment with a laugh.

Deadpan comments are politely formulated yet ice-cold.

Quiet interested in culture. Loves to go to art exhibits, museums, or watch movies. Even enjoys experimental stuff. Yet, if he doesn't like something he will tear it verbally to shreds for having wasted his time.

Uses many food metaphors without him noticing.

In modern days he has fun creating hip-hop-tracks. Nobody but him likes that.

Although he enjoys the refinery of urban environments, when he gets overwhelmed he retreats into the mountains to do craftswork, tend animals, and generally avoid human contact.

Terrific at any sport related to winter and mountains. Has to ski well by necessity although his first attempts at snowboarding were hilariously clumsy. Equally passionate about hockey and figure skating.

Hiking and mountain climbing are his summer time passions. Very convinced by his climbing skills, so he died on several occassions doing freestyle climbing. Stubbornly doesn't accept his failure though.

Many of his early deaths include death by avalanche, guessing what herb is edible or not, freezing to death, and getting in a wresting match with a billy goat once.

Interested in science as so far as it serves to better human living conditions in natural environments, or how to do things more practically. Loves riding the train to watch the panorama although not keen on Ludwig nerding out about trains.

If he had to choose, his favourite neighbour might be Francois (don't tell him that though).

Of course he's a pretentious schmuck about his chocolatier skills. Belgium and him have a silent rivalry about who's chocolate gets more praise.

Never leaves the house without a Swiss army knife.

#HWS Switzerland #Hetalia headcanons #long post #text #Haven't decided on my fan-name for him. Anyhting but Bash...

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dailyanarchistposts · 2 months

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I.8.4 How were the Spanish industrial collectives co-ordinated?

The methods of co-operation tried by the collectives varied considerably. Initially, there were very few attempts to co-ordinate economic activities beyond the workplace. This is hardly surprising, given that the overwhelming need was to restart production, convert a civilian economy to a wartime one and to ensure that the civilian population and militias were supplied with necessary goods. This lead to a situation of anarchist mutualism developing, with many collectives selling the product of their own labour on the market.

This lead to some economic problems as there existed no framework of institutions between collectives to ensure efficient co-ordination of activity and so lead to pointless competition between collectives (which led to even more problems). As there were initially no confederations of collectives nor mutual/communal banks this lead to the continuation of any inequalities that initially existed between collectives (due to the fact that workers took over rich and poor capitalist firms) and it made the many ad hoc attempts at mutual aid between collectives difficult and often of an ad hoc nature.

Given that the CNT programme of libertarian communism recognised that a fully co-operative society must be based upon production for use, CNT militants fought against this system of mutualism and for inter-workplace co-ordination. They managed to convince their fellow workers of the difficulties of mutualism by free debate and discussion within their unions and collectives. Given this the degree of socialisation varied over time (as would be expected). Initially, after the defeat of Franco’s forces, there was little formal co-ordination and organisation. The most important thing was to get production started again. However, the needs of co-ordination soon became obvious (as predicted in anarchist theory and the programme of the CNT). Gaston Leval gives the example of Hospitalet del Llobregat with regards to this process:

“Local industries went through stages almost universally adopted in that revolution … [I]n the first instance, comites nominated by the workers employed in them [were organised]. Production and sales continued in each one. But very soon it was clear that this situation gave rise to competition between the factories … creating rivalries which were incompatible with the socialist and libertarian outlook. So the CNT launched the watchword: ‘All industries must be ramified in the Syndicates, completely socialised, and the regime of solidarity which we have always advocated be established once and for all.’ “The idea won support immediately.” [Collectives in the Spanish Revolution, pp. 291–2]

Another example was the woodworkers’ union which had a massive debate on socialisation and decided to do so (the shopworkers’ union had a similar debate, but the majority of workers rejected socialisation). According to Ronald Fraser a “union delegate would go round the small shops, point out to the workers that the conditions were unhealthy and dangerous, that the revolution was changing all this, and secure their agreement to close down and move to the union-built Double-X and the 33 EU.” [Ronald Fraser, Blood of Spain, p. 222]

A plenum of syndicates met in December of 1936 and formulated norms for socialisation in which the inefficiency of the capitalist industrial system was analysed. The report of the plenum stated:

“The major defect of most small manufacturing shops is fragmentation and lack of technical/commercial preparation. This prevents their modernisation and consolidation into better and more efficient units of production, with better facilities and co-ordination … For us, socialisation must correct these deficiencies and systems of organisation in every industry … To socialise an industry, we must consolidate the different units of each branch of industry in accordance with a general and organic plan which will avoid competition and other difficulties impeding the good and efficient organisation of production and distribution.” [quoted by Souchy, Anarchist Collectives, p. 83]

As Souchy pointed out, this document is very important in the evolution of collectivisation, because it indicates a realisation that “workers must take into account that partial collectivisation will in time degenerate into a kind of bourgeois co-operativism.” [Op. Cit., p. 83] Thus many collectives did not compete with each other for profits, as surpluses were pooled and distributed on a wider basis than the individual collective.

This process went on in many different unions and collectives and, unsurprisingly, the forms of co-ordination agreed to lead to different forms of organisation in different areas and industries, as would be expected in a free society. However, the two most important forms can be termed syndicalisation and confederationalism (we will ignore the forms created by the collectivisation decree as these were not created by the workers themselves).

Syndicalisation (our term) meant that the CNT’s industrial union ran the whole industry. This solution was tried by the woodworkers’ union after extensive debate. One section of the union, “dominated by the FAI, maintained that anarchist self-management meant that the workers should set up and operate autonomous centres of production so as to avoid the threat of bureaucratisation.” However, those in favour of syndicalisation won the day and production was organised in the hands of the union, with administration posts and delegate meetings elected by the rank and file. However, the “major failure … (and which supported the original anarchist objection) was that the union became like a large firm” and its “structure grew increasingly rigid.” [Ronald Fraser, Blood of Spain, p. 222] According to one militant, “From the outside it began to look like an American or German trust” and the workers found it difficult to secure any changes and “felt they weren’t particularly involved in decision making.” [quoted by Fraser, Op. Cit., p. 222 and p. 223] However, this did not stop workers re-electing almost all posts at the first Annual General Assembly.

In the end, the major difference between the union-run industry and a capitalist firm organisationally appeared to be that workers could vote for (and recall) the industry management at relatively regular General Assembly meetings. While a vast improvement on capitalism, it is hardly the best example of participatory self-management in action. However, it must be stressed that the economic problems caused by the Civil War and Stalinist led counter-revolution obviously would have had an effect on the internal structure of any industry and so we cannot say that the form of organisation created was totally responsible for any marginalisation that took place.

The other important form of co-operation was what we will term confederalisation. This system was based on horizontal links between workplaces (via the CNT union) and allowed a maximum of self-management and mutual aid. This form of co-operation was practised by the Badalona textile industry (and had been defeated in the woodworkers’ union). It was based upon each workplace being run by its elected management, selling its own production, getting its own orders and receiving the proceeds. However, “everything each mill did was reported to the union which charted progress and kept statistics. If the union felt that a particular factory was not acting in the best interests of the collectivised industry as a whole, the enterprise was informed and asked to change course.” This system ensured that the “dangers of the big ‘union trust’ as of the atomised collective were avoided.” [Fraser, Op. Cit., p. 229] According to one militant, the union “acted more as a socialist control of collectivised industry than as a direct hierarchised executive.” The federation of collectives created “the first social security system in Spain” (which included retirement pay, free medicines, sick and maternity pay) and a compensation fund was organised “to permit the economically weaker collectives to pay their workers, the amount each collective contributed being in direct proportion to the number of workers employed.” [quoted by Fraser, Op. Cit., p. 229]

As can be seen, the industrial collectives co-ordinated their activity in many ways, with varying degrees of success. As would be expected, mistakes were made and different solutions found as an anarchist society can hardly be produced “overnight” (as discussed in section H.2.5, anarchists have always been aware that social transformation takes time). So it is hardly surprising that the workers of the CNT faced numerous problems and had to develop their self-management experiment as objective conditions allowed them to. Unfortunately, thanks to fascist aggression and Communist Party and Republican back-stabbing, the experiment did not last long enough to fully answer all the questions we have about the viability of the solutions tried. Given time, however, we are sure they would have solved the problems they faced for the social experimentation which was conducted was not only highly successful but also rich in promise.

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ravioli-fries · 1 year

Text

Mission at Macridge

This is a short story I wrote of Izzy and Rills first meeting! A young Grey Deer is on one of his first patrolling missions as a Magic Knight. He meets a curious 14 year old resident of the town.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ My pounding heart woke me this morning! …At 6:00 am. Perhaps a tad early for a meeting time of 2:00 pm, but you can never be too careful, I think! I don’t suppose I could have gone back to sleep anyways.

Began my day by double, triple, quadruple checking my gear. Straightening, readjusting, and rearranging my outfit. Is this okay? Maybe. No… the gray of my robe may be a neutral color fit for any palette but it sure does ruin the whole idea I’m going for. No matter.

I skipped happily along the hallway, energetically greeting my fellow Magic Knights and plopped myself down into a seat to begin my wait for the knights of my group to appear.

Today is my first scouting mission as a Magic Knight! A squad is to travel to the shore town of Macridge, a large commoner town on the edge of Noble realm. Ah, what an experience; I lived on the opposite way of the capital so I never visited. Our mission is to survey the area and reinforce peace, a noble duty.

I laughed to myself.

After a few 10 seconds of kicking my feet I dug out my pocket watch. It’s 12:00 pm… my smile faltered. How embarrassing.

—

“Nearly there. Hold it together Boismortier.” called an aged woman from her broom seat, draped head to toe with exotically detailed fabric.

The voice of my superior, Muriel Matildale, halted the drag of my finger through my picture creation that was currently keeping me suspended in the air.

My daydream had left me in a slight daze, my train of thought stumbled awkwardly back into reality, “Aye aye Captain! Er. I mean Miz Mentor!” bringing my hand to my heart in salute, flinging the remaining magic on my finger into my face.

A chuckle rose from in front of me as I wiped paint from my eye. My partners hid their smiles under their hands. I decided to laugh with them.

We eventually touched down in Macridge. The atmosphere instantly took me! The smell of the sea, the streets bustling with arrays of people and shops selling its environment proudly. It’s a town located near a shore and the noble realm; of course it makes its money on fishing and expands on that theme. How fascinating. There’s so much personality!

“Muriel?” A burly Magic Knight cocked an eyebrow, raising attention and pointing towards me.

Muriel waved her hand “Ah let the boy have it; he’s a noble shut in. He needs this to expand his… palette.” she smirked.

The blonde gave the woman an annoyed look. I forgot his name… what did Miz Muriel say?

The recent interaction left my concern as a new detail caught my eye. What a beautifully crafted sign. The noisy environment around me melted away. I’d love to meet the artist behind this; it portrays the business it’s representing clearly, and easily catches the eye. I rested my chin upon my index and thumb. Using simple and organic shapes, yet it follows a strict pattern, perfectly balancing subjectivity and objectivity. Genius! Clean woodwork as well... The polishing could have had more effort put into it…

My thoughts were interrupted when a body collided into mine.

“Oh! Oh, pardon me, I was just so captivated by this sign…”

A young girl stood before me, with a face as if she’s never made an expression to stretch it. She seemed stiff, like a doll, yet her appearance was so fluid. A ridiculous abundance of dark curls framed her small silhouette, creating an exciting composition. I followed her beauty marks up to her striking golden gaze that contrasted gorgeously against her dark complexion.

I blinked rapidly. Huh?

Without changing her expression, a steady, deep tone came from her, “That’s a sign's purpose, after all.”

“Ah….” I stammered. Looks like my words only wanted to reside in my mind today.

Her eyes flickered like fire as she looked around… that fire seemed to warm my face as well.

“Looks like you oughta get back to work, mister Magic Knight,” Her shawl raised with her hand in farewell, “Bye.”

A moment of panic filled my body as she turned to walk away. I cannot pass up this opportunity!

I stepped forward and clasped her hands within mine, redirecting her body to me. Her stoic expression quivered for a fleeting moment as she spun around.

“May I please draw you? You’re so enchanting, miss! I have to draw you! I just have to!” I flushed in embarrassment and added, “Ah… Only if you’ll allow me…”

Our hands fell and so did my gaze. Her eyes widened ever so slightly.

Standing dangerously still, the girl finally spoke, “Sure. Why not.”

I eagerly brought our hands to my heart and a smile stretched itself across my face. “Woohoo!” I exclaimed, “Let us find a suitable location then!”

A nearby shop table a ways away called me over so I obliged, happily taking my subject with me. The unforgiving sea of people along the road had me skidding to a stop every few steps. Hand in hand she kept up with my sporadic pace without a sound. I really wouldn’t be able to tell she was behind me if it wasn’t for our joined hands.

We seated ourselves and I equipped my sketch pad and pencil, anticipation shuddering through my fingers. I gave her a grin, which she returned with a stare I couldn’t quite comprehend.

“Now, hold still! Of course; it’s okay if you can’t. I can’t ask too much of a stranger I just met, ahoo hoo!”

To my surprise, the corners of her lips turned up so slightly. “How pretty…” I breathed, charmed.

“You’ve got a weird laugh. It’s funny, I like it.”

I flushed. She likes my laugh…!

“E-Eheheh…Why, thank you, miss...” I awkwardly shifted my weight in my seat, placing my leg over the other, “Let’s get started then, shall we?” I declared, winking playfully.

The moment my pencil hit the paper my eyes aimed for her shapes. Every detail about her was so smooth yet bold. From the adorable curve of her round face to the satisfying loops of her dark hair.

What a challenge… curly hair is entertaining yet difficult to pull off. The sunlight that nuzzled itself into her locks made me wish I brought some color with me. It weaved streamers of a beautiful golden brown in her hair. My hand stopped, paused, then began back up again.

Her body was draped with a shawl that clicked together on her left shoulder. Based on the decorative piece I can assume she’s of the higher middle class. The multiple layers she wore presented itself like window curtains for her small frame.

The girl’s lips formed a soft line accompanied by a beauty mark. Her thick lashes and brows were also in the company of them.

The entire time she sat so still. She could have been mistaken for a statue. I don’t believe she blinked once since I met her… It was actually a little unsettling. Her body did not express a single emotion, so I couldn’t help but gasp softly when my gaze met her own.

Despite the rigid gaze of her eyes I could see them alight with thoughts and ideas. Her eyes flickered so fast to study something, I felt the need to flinch every time she shifted her attention. Suddenly I longed to know more about her other than her appearance.

Those big almond eyes, filled with such contemplative golden irises. This stranger. She was absolutely gorgeous. She belonged in a museum.

I gingerly brought my sketch pad to my face, shielding anyone’s eyes from the red that burned it. My silly drawing did not do half the justice to the real her.

“I… I'm done drawing.” I mumbled, defeated. I uncrossed my legs and placed the pad upon my lap.

The girl rose from her seat, “Alright. I’ll get going then.”

Her words knocked me aback, “H-huh?! Don’t you want to see what I drew?!” I exclaimed.

Her blink fluttered, “Oh. Right. Hit me.” She shifted her feet back towards me. My embarrassment returned with her attention.

Waugh! Why did I say that?! Now I have to show her!

I shyly lifted my sketch pad across the table to her. Instead of taking it in her grasp, she leaned over to examine it more clearly. I couldn't help but stare, mesmerized by the hair that fell over her shoulders with her subtle movement. The moment lasted a few seconds but the underlying shame clawing at my mind made it feel like an eternity.

The girl straightened back up and that same small smile graced her face yet again, “You got an amazing attention to detail, y’know.”

I began to protest, “Oh… Oh but my drawing doesn’t begin to truly reflect the beauty of your overall image, I just couldn’t replicate the bold look of your eyes…”

Nope, wrong reaction, I thought, slapping myself mentally, “D’oh! How rude of me, I mean…! I’m sorry! Thank you! Erm… you can have it! Please!” I rubbed nervously at the brooch of my robe, “Thank you so very much for letting me draw you…! You’re like a dream…!”

A cute laugh erupted from her, causing my cheeks to burn hotter.

She shuffled around her cloak, then extended her hand, holding something out to me. My… my grimoire?!

My hand flew to my grimoire bag, empty! My jaw dropped, wait, hat? When did she…

My eyes widened.

The girl sighed and rubbed the back of her neck with her empty hand, “Fair trade.” Eh? Eh? Eh?!

Too astonished to act, I watched as she took my sketch pad and replaced it with my grimoire. She then carefully tore my drawing from the pad, placing it on top of my grimoire.

Her eyes narrowed and smiled with her lips, her eyes glittered with amusement. I blushed.

“See ya, Magic Knight.” Frozen, I watched as she stepped away from the table and melted into the ongoing traffic of people, gone without a trace.

I brought my grimoire and sketch pad to my chest in a futile attempt to calm the furious beat of my heart. I was utterly and completely mesmerized by this thief…

“Well… as long as you’re done getting robbed, Boismortier.” A familiar voice sounded, followed by a hand grasping my left shoulder. My jaw agape, I looked blankly at Miz Muriel that stood at my side.

“C'mon kid, we have work to do.” My eyes widened in realization, “Calm down! You widen your eyes any further, they're gonna pop out!” Muriel sighed through her nose, “I don’t gotta tell anyone about this. You can get robbed all you want, just don’t let it happen to others, deal?”

I nodded wildly in agreement.

“Alright. Let’s get going then.” I rose as Muriel started off into the crowd, and followed behind quietly, my mind racing.

A shaky sigh left my lips, what a first mission…

#black clover #black clover oc #oc #original character #oc x canon #izel faye #rill boismortier #I am mentally unwell #thanks for reading !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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