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to-be-a-spartan · 4 years ago

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To Be A Spartan

Chapter 1: The Myth

18:38 Hours (Shipboard Time), July 20, 2557 (Military Calendar)

Slipstream Space

UNSC Infinity, S-Deck

Sarah Palmer wasn’t quite sure how her day had taken a turn to end up like this, and she damn sure didn’t like it.

The Infinity had picked up a distress call from the Forward Unto Dawn of all things. A ship that had been MIA, presumed destroyed since Operation: BLIND FAITH back in 2552 at the end of the Human-Covenant War. Well, it was a bit more complex than that but Sarah couldn’t be bothered to review the brief she was given on the ship in her head again.

Sarah rolled her eyes as she walked towards the First Officer’s Quarters. The entire ship was practically vibrating with excitement. It was ridiculous. She didn’t understand why they were so excited. The guy was probably dead anyway, because the distress call had been Cortana, his A.I., repeating a single phrase over and over. If you’d asked her prior to 2552 if she even thought the Spartans really existed, it would’ve been a resounding no. She figured the myths of Archangels of Death wreathed in invincible emerald green armor blazing through battlefields and slaughtering the Covenant were just from Shellshocked marines imagining things as reinforcements arrived and gunned down the perpetrators like dogs. She just assumed ONI Section II decided to highly publicize those few and far between victories and craft an immensely complex web of lies and stories to perpetuate the myth of the Spartans and raise morale among the ranks.

But then 2552 rolled around.

The Halo Campaigns, the Invasion of Earth, the Great Schism. So much happened, all centered around a Spartan. Not so much a Spartan, but the Spartan.

Sierra-117. The Master Chief.

One man almost singlehandedly saved the galaxy. That was when she started believing in the Spartans. Of course, Tom had told her stories of the Chief.

About the Covenant invasion of Circinius IV and the subsequent death of nearly all of his friends. Tom always said it was the Master Chief that had rescued them. Sarah loved her friend, she really did, but prior to 2552 she had remained skeptical that he really existed.

Setting those thoughts aside as she reached a bulkhead, she knocked twice.

“Come.”

The bulkhead slid open to reveal a relatively standard UNSC officer’s quarters. About a third larger than regular quarters, there was a steel desk on the far wall next to a wooden bookshelf that was definitely not standard-issue or within regulations, filled with actual paper books. The chair of the desk stood upon a single steel pole that rested in a grove on the deck. That groove contained a small track that let the chair slide along as it was needed and not fall or anything of the sort.

In that chair was Commander Thomas James Lasky, First Officer of the UNSC Infinity, and probably one of the only men who could call Sarah Palmer more than an acquaintance, commanding officer, or one-night stand (and those were very few and far between now).

The fair-skinned man span his chair around to face the door, reaching a hand up to smooth back his hair that was a few shades short of bark brown. He cocked his left leg at the knee and rested his left ankle on his right knee. Holding a datapad in his right hand and resting it in his lap next to the hand he lowered from his hair, he smiled. “I shouldn’t be surprised you’re here, Sarah. What is it?”

Sarah crossed her arms and leaned against the wall on her right side that the door she had entered from was up against. As she looked for the right words, she glanced around the room. Tracing her eyes along the wall, she passed over the small closet allotted to officers. Then along the wall to the door to the personal bathroom all officers were allowed (she also knew Tom despised that officers were given special privileges, so rarely used it for anything other than basic hygiene). From there she looked over to the wall that ran horizontal to the threshold of the door, and the immaculately made bunk pressed against the wall.

He’s nervous.... She thought, glancing back at him. She could see the abnormalities in the rise and fall of his armored chest. It wasn’t consistent. She could easily see the way he dug the tip of his right boot into the deck slightly.

“You’re nervous.” She stated finally, amber-brown eyes meeting his own chocolate-brown ones.

Tom’s brows furrowed ever so slightly, and after a second his smile switched from welcoming to bashful. She recognized the change instantly, she’d known him long enough that she knew every one of his mannerisms like the back of her hand. He lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck, letting out a soft laugh. “You got me.”

Sarah’s lips ticked upwards in a small smile. Tom never failed to make her smile at least once a day. She pushed off the wall and and moved over to sit on the edge of his desk. “Talk to me, Tom. I may not be very good at helping, but I’ll always listen.”

Lasky turned slightly in his chair so he was still facing her. “I know, Sarah. I know.” Then he blinked.

“We don’t have much time. Let’s go.” The armored behemoth that had killed the alien stated in a deep, gravely, but unmistakably human voice.

“Over thirty years ago, that man saved my life.”

“You’re the only survivors.”

“In the school....?”

“On the planet.”

“He risked his life for a bunch of kids.”

“Get to the ‘Hog, I’ll draw their fire!”

“I’ll never understand why.”

“Don’t stop for anything. Including me.”

“I thought I’d never see him again. Twice, in fact.”

“Lasky, no!”

“Axios!”

“First on Circinius during our escape. And again after that, onboard the ship that took us away. I don’t know why I’m so nervous.” Lasky sat the datapad on his desk and uncrossed his legs, resting both feet on the ground and both elbows on his knees.

Sarah didn’t say anything, just reached out a hand and rested it on Tom’s shoulder not covered by that odd piece of armor. She squeezed gently and rolled her lips together, still not saying anything. She didn’t have too.

Tom reached up a hand to rest on Sarah’s on his shoulder, looking up slightly and giving her a grateful nod.

She returned it, sque—

“XO requested bridge. XO requested bridge. Commander Palmer requested bridge. Commander Palmer requested bridge.” Came the voice of the ship’s artificial intelligence, Roland, over the ship-comm.

The pair sighed simultaneously, both standing up and smiling at each other before exiting Lasky’s quarters.

——————

Sarah Palmer walked onto the Command Bridge of the UNSC Infinity with a purpose in her step. It was time to work.

Now clad in her MJOLNIR GEN2 Scout Variant, Sarah felt much more at home than in her skivvies. She let her eyes take in the room, the outer circle of consoles on a slightly elevated platform that had small dips in three places leading down to the second tier where the main holotable of the bridge was sat in front of the viewport with Captain Andrew Del Rio and Tom standing next to it.

Sarah walked over, taking a place opposite of Del Rio and truly working to withhold the glare that tries to work its way out every damn time she looks at the worthless piece of shit. Judging by the look Tom gives her, he’s having the same problem.

“Commander Palmer, how nice of you to finally join us.” Del Rio says in his ever-condescending voice, somehow managing to look down at her even though she towered over the old man.

She bit back a sharp retort, instead sliding into parade-rest and nodding. “Of course, Sir.”

“Now, in two hours we will be leaving Slipspace at the location of the Forward Unto Dawn’s distress call. I want boarding teams ready to deploy the moment we clear the slip. Commander Lasky, you will deploy with them. The Spartan may react better to an officer than another team of Spartans. Understood?” Del Rio spoke slowly, still in that arrogant tone. He didn’t care about finding the Master Chief. He was just looking for another promotion.

Tom looked ready to call him out on his lack of using the Chief’s title, indirectly of course, but just under the edge of the table Sarah caught his wrist and almost imperceptibly shook her head. “Sir, it’s against protocols for any UNSC vessel to not have an Executive Officer aboard at all times. Commander Lasky-“

“Commander Lasky,” Del Rio cut her off, puffing out his chest in an unconscious (as if) attempt to assert dominance. “is no stranger to breaking a few protocols.... isn’t that right?” He looked at Lasky’s chest, exactly where his dog-tags hung under his officer’s BDU.

Sarah found yet another reason for wanting to throttle the Captain. She knew exactly what he was referring to. And she also wanted to throttle him for the look that flew across Tom’s face; She knew Tom well enough to understand he wouldn’t dare say anything, but it had hurt him.

“Of. Course. Sir.” She replied through gritted teeth.

Del Rio studied her for a moment, visibly debating whether to reprimand her or not for her sharpness, but decided against it. “Very well. You’re dismissed.”

—————

Sarah felt the deck rumble beneath her feet as the Infinity lurched out of the blue-black of Slipspace.

“Holy shit-!”

Sarah heard the exclamation from one of the flight technicians fueling up the Pelican and peaked her head out of the Blood-Tray to see what he—

Woah....

Staring back at her through the atmospheric shield of the main hanger bay was a gargantuan metal planet. It had millions upon millions of lights scattered across its surface in perfect geometric patterns, and a large hole in the surface of the planet.

“Oh my God...”

Sarah glanced to her left to see Lasky standing with one foot on the rear ramp of the pelican, the other on the Infinity’s deck. He looked just as mystified as everyone else.

“Now hear this, Now hear this:” Came Roland’s voice over the ship-comm. Then, something spectacular happened: “We have picked up a UNSC IFF tag in the core of the planet. According to all known data on Forerunner constructs, the planet is hollow. All hands, brace for atmospheric entry. We’re going inside.”

And then the deck lurched, and Sarah had to grab the pelican to keep from falling. Tom looked at her, and she shrugged. “Roland!” She barked. “What the hell was that?”

“The planet caught us in a gravity well, Commander!” The A.I. replied, his avatar appearing on a nearby comm pad. “Helm can’t get us out.”

At the same time, his voice came louder iver the ship-comm. “All hands! Brace, brace!” The deck rumbled again and crates went flying as Roland’s avatar vanished.

“Hostile Covenant contacts! All Pathfinder teams are to deploy immediately, we’ll cover you!” Del Rio’s voice snapped over the ship-comm.

“You heard him Commanders!” The voice of Spartan Vixen (Sarah did a double take when she first heard her name to), a member of Gypsy Company, called from the blood tray.

Sarah patted Tom’s shoulder, nodding as they both climbed into the pelican and the engines roared to life.

This is not a good idea.... She thought, but didn’t voice it. No turning back now. Taking a seat next to Tom as the harnesses lowered to keep them in place, she rolled her shoulders.

“Commander Lasky.”

Tom rolled his eyes as Del Rio’s voice sounded over the Pelican’s comm. “Go ahead Captain.”

“I’m assigning your team to locate the origin point of the gravity well that dragged us in-“ His voice got quieter as he turned away from the mic for a moment. “Ready Archer pods Alpha 7 through Bravo 6 and fire!”

“Understood, Captain. We’ll get it done.” Tom replied, then shut off the comm as the pelican arced into a steep dive to avoid a stream of plasma fire, throwing them against the hull.

Several minutes of rapid aerobatics later, Spartan Vixen decided to break the silence. Her deep blue visor turned towards Lasky and she spoke. “First time on a combat flight, Commander?”

The rest of the cabin laughed, Lasky included. He rocked in his harness a lot more than the marines or Spartans, but he seemed fine. He looked at Vixen, smiling good-naturedly. “Quite the opposite, Spartan. I used to be a naval aviator.”

Vixen whistled, nudging another Spartan, Spartan Tetran, with her elbow. “Hear that boys? The Commander here probably gave us fire support at some point.” A holler went around the bay, and everyone knew they were just distracting themselves.

“Commander Lasky, you might want to see this.” Came the voice of their pilot from the cockpit.

Lasky glanced at Sarah, who raised an eyebrow that he shrugged in response to. He raised his harness and stood up, stepping into the cockpit. They didn’t bother to be quiet, so Sarah could easily hear them discussing the gravity well they had apparently spotted.

“Incoming!” The Co-Pilot barked, followed by a flash of gold-orange light, and suddenly they were plummeting towards the surface with fire trailing from their port side wing.

Sarah watched as Tom was thrown from the cockpit and slammed into the ceiling with a pained exclamation before being buffeted into Tetran’s helmet. She unlatched her harness without thinking and grabbed Lasky, holding him against her armored chest. She could take more hits than he could.

“Brace for—“ CRASH

The pilot was cut off as the pelican slammed into the canopy of the alien trees below, the sound of metal being obliterated like wet tissue paper filling her ears as she and Tom were thrown about the cabin. The pelican slammed into something else, causing the rear ramp to fly open and Sarah to be thrown from the bay with Tom in her arms.

She flew through the air, doing her best to ensure she landed first instead of To—

CRACK

Then everything went black.

#To Be A Spartan #Chapter 1 #2.3 K words #Sarah Palmer #Thomas Lasky #Roland #Andrew Del Rio #Gypsy Company Spartan OCs #Marine OCs #Prometheans #John-117/Sarah Palmer

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mae-i-scribble · 4 years ago

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I was tagged by @jukstapose (thank you for tagging!! :DD) and since my goal for this year is to be more active on this blog, this was a great chance.

gender: Most definitely a girl

star sign: Cancer

height: 5′8 or 172cm

time: 6:45pm

birthday: June!

favorite band: i dont really know that many bands off the top of my head,, mostly i just like certain songs, but uhh owl city,, bastille, mystery skulls and imagine dragons i guess

favorite solo artist: again, i tend to just focus on singular songs rather than artists, but sometimes people just have multiple songs i vibe to. id say a few are halsey, alec benjamin, siames, and mitski

last movie: im pretty sure it was The Witches (the 90′s version bc nostalgia)

last show: tgcf donghua is the latest ive completed, but im also watching So What I’m a Spider and Horimiya (i want there to be more fans of spider isekai so much please its so lonely with me and my 2 stick friends)

when did i create this blog: either 2017 or 2018,, can’t remember which but it’s been a hot minute

what i post: my art and drawing for whatever fandom im in atm, posts i find relatable, quiz games sometimes, convos i have with people, and I want to start posting more analysis type things

last thing i googled: i dont have search history but uhh i think i was looking up where to find giga drain in pokemon emerald because im doing a nuzlocke of it now and i wanted my cradily to have it (;-; you cant get it until post game)

other blogs: @maelikemaybelline is my reblog blog, all the things i like but i dont want to spam my main blog with go here

do i get asks: barely XD

why did i chose this url: i am physically incapable of choosing something that isnt a pun, and scribbling applies to both writing and drawing so it was fitting

following: 224

followers: 118

instruments: does playing the xylophone in elementary school count. i also played the tambourine for a school play once

what am i wearing: sweatpants and a charlie brown shirt with charlie and snoopy on it that says “life is better with a dog” (it’s a long time favorite of mine)

dream job(s): animal husbandry! id love to work with exotic animals, especially reptiles.

dream trip: honestly i dont really have one? tbh travel never appealed to me, but id love to go and see places with a lot of cool wildlife

favorite food: it’s too hard to pick one,, im a huge meat fan, but i also have a massive sweet tooth. ice cream and other cold sweets are the best

nationality: american

favorite song: i,,, cannot physically choose but i have been listening to Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths, The End and The Beginning and The Missing Piece both from Razia’s Shadow, and the ending song to the spider isekai (i love it more with every rewatch)

last book i read: the invisible man! I didnt finish it before having to return it to the library but it was good for the first half pffff

top 3 fictional universes i'd like to live in: hmm i’d love somewhere with magic and fantastical creatures, like pierce’s immortal quartet, or maybe his dark materials bc daemons neat. uhh,, in terms of tagging i guess @cangse-sanren and @gingermintpepper (if you guys want to no pressure)

#about mae #now yall have some fun facts :3

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storiesofwildfire · 5 years ago

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Loki is one of the most powerful magic users of their generation. While magic is rather commonplace on Asgard ( though magic is not actually a natural occurrence in pure Aesir blood, magic is deeply ingrained into their culture. Not to mention, the Aesir did, at one point, commonly breed with non-Aesir, so magic lingers in many bloodlines for that reason ), Loki’s abilities and what they can accomplish with their unique brand of Seidr not only stretches across a wide and vast range of techniques, but also holds a powerful potency that most sorcerers cannot hope for.

The only other magic user that stands as Loki’s true equal is the Vanir God, Heimdall. Aside from the Watcher, there are no known individuals on Asgard who can match Loki’s strength and abilities. The same is believed to be true throughout most of the known worlds. While there will always be someone more powerful than Loki out there, very few rivals actually exist in this particular field.

Often seen as the God(dess) of Magic, Loki is often worshipped for their abilities, and some ( like Loki’s first love, Vera ) actually call upon Loki to channel their own sorcery.

There are many brands of magic throughout the universe. To list them all would be extremely complex and time-consuming, but magic tends to boil down to those who possess the power themselves and those who draw their power from something ( or someone ) else.

In Loki’s case, Loki’s sorcery comes from within them. It was something that they were born with. They create their magic on their own and it is as much alive as Loki is. Thus far, Loki has not reached a cap on their abilities, meaning their magic continues to grow each and every day. Their power is constantly flowing through and around them and those who can sense or even see magic may very well be able to watch the emerald hue of Loki’s Seidr move around them in a continuous flow. Loki doesn’t rely too heavily on their abilities, but not using them would be absolutely catastrophic. When magic sits idly, ignored, it tends to lash out and occupy itself. The energy wants to be used and if it isn’t, it makes life very unpleasant for the one restraining it. For this reason, even when Loki does not need magical assistance, they may still very well use it, even for mundane things like keeping their hair in order or tidying up a cluttered desk.

While Loki’s magic doesn’t entirely have a mind of its own, it certainly does react that way to many sources of stimuli. The reason Loki’s power can heal them even if they are not conscious to will it is because much of Loki’s power can act on its own, most of the time to protect its user or ensure the comfort of its user. The presence of other magic users will also perk up Loki’s energy and draw it out. For those it feels somewhat compatible with, it may even attempt to spark the other’s power to come out and play. The only time Loki’s magic is not active and present is if Loki has expended themselves too far, in which case, they will need to rest and allow their power to recuperate over time.

Yes, Loki is an extremely powerful sorcerer, but they do have limitations. As stated above, Loki can stretch their power supply too far, making it nearly impossible to cast even the simplest of spells until the energy has time to rebuild. Loki would be exhausted and extremely vulnerable in these times. There are also certain sects of magic that Loki has not mastered or struggles to even perform. They are not automatically an expert in everything, and some abilities come far more naturally than others. Some magics they are not horribly familiar with or gifted in would include things like shadowmancy and necromancy ( though Loki does have certain abilities that do linger in death—they are the mother of Hel, after all, Loki doesn’t roam too far into these abilities. Mostly out of respect for their daughter and understanding that death is Hel’s domain, they should not interfere much ).

Because of how potent Loki’s magic actually is, for those who can easily sense magic, Loki is like a shining beacon. In order to hide their presence from those gifted with such abilities, they have to go to rather great lengths to disguise their Seidr or camouflage it in some way. Those who feed off of magical energy are especially attracted to Loki’s presence for that reason. Those who wish to steal power from those more powerful ( very much like Odin, who has stolen all of his magical abilities from other people and sources ) would view Loki as some sort of glittering treasure waiting to be uncovered and taken.

Loki’s magic also relies heavily on Loki’s emotional state and how well they are able to keep their power under control. As a child and well into their adolescent years, extreme emotional distress or even vigorous moments of happiness would trigger something that Loki did not mean to trigger. For that reason, Loki has learned to be very in control of their emotions so as not to lash out magically by mistake. As they’ve grown more powerful and learned more restrain, their magic escapes from them less and less, but it is still prone to happen. Especially in moments where Loki completely loses control of themselves for any variety of reasons...

Below is a list of different abilities that Loki has picked up and/or mastered over the years. Please keep in mind that this list will grow over time as Loki becomes more and more familiar with new forms of magic and even if something is not listed here, that does not necessarily mean that Loki cannot do said magic or is completely unfamiliar with it.

In no particular order and not limited to, here are Loki’s abilities:

i. Elemental Manipulation

Simply put, Loki can manipulate the elements that exist around them. Fire, earth, water, and air can be controlled to do Loki’s bidding so long as Loki is close enough to whatever source they wish to draw from. Think of this as bending from Avatar. It’s extremely similar to the concept of using the elements that exist around you.

ii. Elemental Creation

Unlike the previous listing, this is the literal creation of elements. Loki does not need to draw on an existing source. They can create the source themselves, though it does take a significant amount more to do so.

iii. Fire Manipulation & Creation

While this does technically fall under the previously mentioned entries, fire deserves its own entry because Loki is literally credited as being the Norse God of Fire. Fire manipulation and creation tends to be a bit easier for Loki than the other elements.

iv. Ice Manipulation & Creation

Again, this does fall under the same category as those already mentioned, but it’s worth noting that Loki’s water—and more specifically, ice ( yes, I know it sounds very Elsa-like, but honestly, I’m okay with that )—abilities are also rather advanced in comparison to things like earth and air. While it does act as a contradiction to the God of Fire title, Loki’s Jotun heritage makes these abilities feel almost like second nature.

v. Illusion Casting

We’ve seen it, we know it, we love it. Loki has an uncanny ability to project images so real, you’re convinced that what you’re looking at absolutely is. The illusions can range from simple images to complete glamours that cover extensive areas and even create sounds and smells to make them even more realistic and vivid. The size of the illusion and the more detailed it is, the more energy it takes to create and keep up. It does make it difficult to tell what’s real and what’s not when Loki is around, though.

vi. Mind Magic

This can get a little dicey. We’ve seen evidence of Loki being able to bring memories and ideas to the forefront of people’s minds ( like what they did to Valkyrie in Ragnarök, for example ), but just how far do these abilities stretch?

For me, Loki’s mind magic is severely underdeveloped because it’s a relatively new concept for them and it’s something they don’t entirely feel all right using. While Loki did have the ability before their experiences with the Mind Gem, the Gem being inside Loki’s mind definitely brought the ability to the forefront and forced them to acknowledge and utilize it more.

Loki’s shown abilities in forcing thoughts and ideas to the forefront of someone’s mind, while also pulling thoughts and memories from them. In some ways, this means that Loki can both force their will onto others as well as force their way into the minds of those around them.

Because this very thing has been done to Loki so thoroughly that it traumatized them, however, Loki doesn’t much like tapping into the abilities. They are severely underdeveloped in comparison to the rest of their magical scope and every time they utilize the power, they get a sick feeling in the pit of their stomach. It’s not a pleasant thing, it’s not something they actually enjoy doing, and if it were up to them, they’d never use it.

Unfortunately, the Mind Gem amplified those abilities. It is the one piece of the Mind Gem Loki feels they can never truly scrub from their mind.

vii. Teleportation

As simple as it sounds, Loki can fast-travel pretty much anywhere they want to go within reason. It usually has to be a place on the same world or realm they’re already on, but it’s become such a quick and easy way for them to travel, it’s so simple to them now. If Loki is holding onto something or someone else, that something will be brought with them.

viii. Portal Conjuring

For off realm travel that Loki doesn’t want to use or doesn’t have access to the Bifrost for, Loki does have the ability to create small portals that connect one place to another temporarily. While this is a relatively easy thing for Loki to accomplish after years of practice, this does actually take up a lot of energy. It’s way more difficult than teleporting and it extends over much longer distances. Loki usually needs a rest after this, and they don’t tend to leave the portal open longer than it takes for them and whoever may be accompanying them to step through. It’s far too draining to keep a tear in space open for any sort of extended period of time. Even a moment or two is sometimes too overbearing, especially if the distance between those two spots is also extreme.

ix. Item Conjuring & Transfiguration

As we have seen countless times with Loki’s daggers randomly appearing in their hands, Loki can call items that are not currently on their person to them at any given point in time. Most of the time, Loki is calling on an item that already exists elsewhere, however, they can create an object from nothing ( or from something else! Like turning an apple into an orange ) if they wish to. Creating something with magic does take a lot more energy than calling something that already exists, however.

x. Creationism

In this sense, I’m not referring to the belief that the universe was created by some sort of divine intervention. I’m referring to the idea that, on some scale, Loki and their magic can be that divine intervention. Loki’s magic has created life numerous times over the course of their lifetime. All four of Loki’s biological children were the product of magic.

Although Loki is unaware of this, Loki’s magic is also the reason that Jotunheim and their biological mother now thrive ( you can read more about this in Laufey’s biography on my “other muses” tab ).

In short, Loki literally has the ability to create life and while such magic is draining and often takes a long period of time, it is one of the most powerful forms of magic Loki possesses.

xi. Shapeshifting

We all know that Loki is a shapeshifter. They can take the form of anything and everything they want within reason. The larger the form, the harder it is for them to maintain over the course of a long period of time, however. Loki can stay in any form they choose for any given period of time, though some forms are simply more difficult to actually maintain for significant stretches than others.

When it comes to shapeshifting into animals, it’s a bit more complicated though. While Loki doesn’t lose sense of themselves or the understanding of who they are, the longer they’re in an animal form, the more that specific animal’s instincts fight for dominance over rational thought. While in an animal form, Loki often has to surrender a certain amount of sentience to the animal’s natural habits, otherwise, they wouldn’t be a very convincing version of said animal. The longer they’re in said form, the more like that animal they become.

This is one of the easiest things for Loki to do, though, as all Jotun are, to some degree, able to shapeshift. Not all of them can do an entire body transformation like Loki can, but they are all able to change certain aspects of their body. It’s as much heritage as it is magic for Loki.

xii. Language

While most, if not all, Aesir use the All-tongue to speak ( a language that allows them to understand and be understood by anyone within Yggdrasil ), Loki has a natural born gift to understand and decipher languages and stories over time. Words are often credited as being one of Loki’s most powerful weapons and it’s partly because of this ability. We see a lot of it in God of War 2018, where Loki ( called Atreus by their birth father ) can easily pick up on runes and various symbols from many different realms and figure out what they mean without the use of the All-tongue.

Loki is the God of Stories and is often credited with the reason the ability to tell stories and even keep historical records exists. It makes sense that Loki would possess such an ability.

xiii. Energy Channeling

This is kind of a broad category in that it covers things like redirecting attacks from opponents and using raw energy as defense or offense. What I mean by this is that Loki can use their own magic as a raw energy projectile, or they can use it to create a barrier/shield around themselves or something else. They can also use the power of others to accomplish the same thing, though that takes way more caution and concentration. To stop someone’s oncoming attack and either redirect it or use it for something else is a useful skill, but a dangerous one because there is so much room for error.

xiv. Absorption of Foreign Magic

Loki can literally absorb magic from other sources or people. This is technically the method that resulted in Loki's pregnancy with Fenrir, Jörmungandr, and Hel. Loki absorbed Angrboda’s magic, but her magic was so potent that instead of simply fusing with Loki’s once Loki took it, it literally created new life with the help of Loki’s magic ( rooting back to the creationism thing I mentioned earlier ).

Loki can technically use this technique to make their own magic stronger, though that can be a dangerous game to play. If another source of magic doesn’t agree with their own, it’ll be like a patient rejecting a blood transfusion because the blood type is wrong.

Loki can also use this as a way to alleviate someone else’s burden if their magic is running rampant and they can’t get control of it. It can be temporary, and Loki can return the magic to them. In a few threads, Loki’s actually done this for Heimdall, when his power became too much and he couldn’t stop it.

xv. Prone to Visions ( aka Foresight )

Some Jotun ( not all ) are rather gifted in the ways of seeing into the future. Laufey, Loki’s mother, was one such Jotun.

Loki’s abilities in this haven’t cropped up much as of yet. In fact, Loki would even go as far as to say they don’t have any abilities with foresight. This, however, is not entirely true. As they grow older and more powerful with their magic, visions will begin making themselves know, rarely at first, and often in the form of a dream.

Loki doesn’t have much experience with this yet and what they have experienced was easily chalked up to random chance or coincidence, but it will not always remain as such.

xvi. Cloning

Loki can literally create doubles of themselves. The clones are lifelike and realistic, often able to fool anyone into believing they are the real thing. Loki’s clones can act independently and make their own choices without Loki pulling the strings, giving them the illusion of free will, but they are connected to Loki. Loki can feel anything that one of their clones experiences and Loki can sort of look through their eyes, so to speak, so whatever their clone sees and hears, Loki can choose to as well.

xvii. Healing

Healing is a relatively easy thing for Loki depending on the severity of the injury. The worse an injury is ( aka, the closer to death someone is ), the more difficult it may be for Loki to mend the wound or do so in a way that would actually prove to be effective in helping save the person’s life. Small and even medium-sized wounds are no problem, though, making Loki someone you definitely want to have in your corner during adventures or wars.

While Loki can also help ease or soothe some of the side effects of certain ailments, curing said ailment is much more difficult than healing a wound. Loki isn’t exactly proficient at curing sickness, but can often help when it comes to fevers, aches and pains, or general pain and/or discomfort caused by ailments.

Loki can also heal themselves. Much of the time, their magic does this without them consciously needing to activate it. This is why Loki can heal even when unconscious. Loki’s magic kicks in the second injury happens and goes to work repairing their body. This also attributes to why it’s much harder for Loki’s skin to scar than the average person. They simply heal too quickly more often than not.

xviii. Empathy

While this isn’t something Loki consciously activates and often doesn’t even realize they possess, Loki is able to read and even feel the emotions of people around them. For most of their life, they’ve passed this off as being particularly acute to reading expressions, body language, and tone of those around them. That does not explain why Loki can often identify so intensely with someone else’s emotions that they can understand and even feel them, though. Loki usually chalks this up to the idea that they feel too much and allow others to project on them.

#( storiesofwildfire headcanon ) chaos is about that which is possible #index; loki #filed under; headcanons #filed under; magical abilities #{ this has... literally been sitting in my drafts half written for months #I didn't expect this to be one of the only things I got done today #but this is... long #like 3100 words kinda long #and I'm so glad to actually have it out of my drafts and published #icb it took me this long to write up a proper breakdown of Loki's magic and abilities #the list will definitely change as Loki learns and grows more powerful tho #I simply touched on some of the most commonplace things Loki does/can do }#loki's magic #magic write up #about loki's magic #magic

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unseeliephen · 5 years ago

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history: kora &. phen - an unknowing reunion setting: the forest of thorn haven

With every full moon that past, Kora felt as if she lost a little bit more of herself. She needed this almost more than breathing.

The air is cold. It is mid morning but the sky is dark and heavy with promise of another bout of snow. The small brunette tilts her head up toward the clouds, short dark curls swaying against the wind as she laughs and twirls. For a moment, she is happy, unbranded with her power back within her possession.

Slowly snow begins to fall and hit pale cheeks. Green orbs glance behind, smile beaming. “I’ll be back later.” before either Sidian or she has time to protest or change their minds, the she-wolf is already beginning to pull her shirt up and over her head. She leaves her clothes in a neat pile behind the green house attached to the magic shop before shes running through the snow, shifting in mid-stride. The black wolf quickly hidden within the treeline and up into Crown Points forested trails.

ii.

There’s a stirring in the night of the forests surrounding Crown Point. There are nocturnal animals wakening and hunting. Leaves are rustling when the wind blows them. Quiet murmurings of whispers to those who listen close enough.

A large gust of wind blew, stirring a few birds nearby and where there was once an empty clearing now stood Phen–the uniquely fae green eyes glowing brightly in the night. His cheeks quickly redden from the cold that bites at his skin, but it hardly phased him as he began walking through the forests. He could always find his way. The shadows of the forests were his home whenever he was on this realm.

It’s an uneventful night minus the whispers he hears in his ears. Better to drown them out for now, no one is keen on listening to his songs at the moment. But just when he thinks he’ll have to return to the city unhappy, there’s a blur that catches his sight. For those of a human, most likely would have missed it. But not Phen’s eyes.

“Will you come out and play?” Phen asked into the forest as he stopped walking, a hand reached out to press into a nearby tree. There’s an excitement in his voice and his eyes, the smile on his face one of a child’s. “Please? Come here! I just want to pet you.”

iii.

The wolf is racing herself through the damp foliage now. Kora’s sharp claws kick up wet earth with every fluid step. She feels at peace here - as if everything that ever happened to her led up to this moment. It was almost poetic as she stretched and used muscles locked away for too long. It was exhilarating to just let go. Of her problems, of herself. She was no longer merely Kora - the pretty little helpless slave.

- she had teeth and claws and limbs that can run for miles.

Limbs were stretched to their max and yet it still feels as if it isn’t enough. Her wolf demands its freedom. Suddenly, lost in her own little world of earthly sights and smells, she senses something unique within the trees. It drives her curiously forward to investigate, but she is careful to keep her distance. And though she stays hidden, the dark fur of her coat is of stark contrast to the white beneath her paws.

Never trust the fae folk. Its a warning that has stuck with her since childhood. The wolf lifts her muzzle, sniffing the air in search of more potential threats as she allows her presence there among the trees to be know. She does not move forward however, the warning still chiming in her head as she watches him, home there within the clearing.

iv.

A smart wolf to keep at a distance. Phen has always thought the forest is a different world, a society with its own set of rules and dangers than the city. Werewolves, skinwalkers, the fae folk… all the supernaturals that dwell among the trees.

“I see you,” Phen said as he tapped a finger to his nose and then pointed in the direction of the wolf. “But I’m not going to hurt you.”

To make his point, as if it would help at all, he sat down on the forest floor, back leaning against the tree. Phen has a soft spot for dogs. Domestic or not. Wild or supernatural. They’re beautiful creatures of strength and beauty. Phen’s written songs and poems about them. He’s made pieces of artwork in the haze of his creativity that brought to life the truth of them.

“I just want to pet you! You’re so beautiful. Majestic.” Phen didn’t move from where he sat but he reached a hand out. He’s suppose to do that, right? Let her sniff him, assess if he’s dangerous?

Well. He is. But not right now. Not to her.

The sky was dark grey now, with snowflakes so thick she had to squint through it just to see the few paces ahead. It was raw, and real and she loved every second of her paws embedded in the dirt. Kora trotted her way through the undergrowth of trees when she had finally decided to make the small journey toward the fae. Especially now that he had lowered himself to the ground.

Head up and emerald eyes bright - the shewolf spots his form beneath the canopy of a tree where snow is trapped above a thick cover of leaves. He is a mere few feet away now and yet her steps are slow, unhurried as she makes her way to him through the cold terrane. He feeds her with compliments, but its the uniquness of his fae nature that draws her animal in. She sits back upon her hind legs in front of him. Even before her enslavement it wasn’t common for Kora to allow anyone to touch her. It was an intimate act, as it would be even now.

The look she gives his slouched figure and outstretched hand says that if he isn’t careful teeth will claim his arm as payment. She steps forward, wet muzzle brushing up against the males offered hand and down-turned wrist as she allowed the strange fae to touch. After all she still wears her necklace; Sidian would know if she were in any sort of distress.

vi.

It’s a sight to see for those lurking in the shadows of the woods. Phen noticed the quiet murmurs are silent now. Whether those are in his head or not, that’s still to be discovered. Trotting across the forest floor is a werewolf, coming in the direction of an Unseelie fae that sat in the cold snow.

It hardly phased him, his thick cloak enough to keep him warm. His unusually bright green fae eyes are wide and excited, pale cheeks rosy from the cold. He doesn’t move, he knows better. Which of the two can be the greater threat, that would be a question not answered tonight.

The softest of gasps escaped from Phen when he felt her muzzle against his hand, letting her making the movements toward him first. He really didn’t want to lose any fingers. They were his life line. His ability to create. Losing them would mean losing his life.

But once he feels it’s safe, he turns his hand to run his fingers through her fur with deliberate slowness. “You’re so soft,” he whispered into the night with the words carried on the fog of his breath. “And warm.” Phen moves to scratch behind her ear, leaning forward just enough to let him do so. “Do you live in these woods?”

vii.

There is something very different about these woods, as if something more is lurking within there depths. This place does not remind Kora of home, but the electric hum of magic in the air draws many a creature near. For now - it is as close as she will get unless she decides now to make for an escape. However, Sidian trusts her enough not to run far - she would hate to break that trust again.

And this fae - peering at her through eyes so bright, she knows she should be more cautious. Faeries were known for their trickery and violence when they think themselves disrespected. They were also rumored to steal sleeping babies from their cribs and replace them with changelings. She is reminded of every story her grandmother had ever told her and yet - this faeries touch was gentle as fingers carded through her dark fur. She’d only ever allowed Sidian or pack to touch her like this - it truly is a quiet sort of intimacy. One she hadn’t realized she so desperately needed after being in this hell for so long.

She allows him to touch freely, even goes as far as to tilt her head for more gentle scratches behind her ears. Hes cold. But Kora’s temperature runs hot and the cold hardly phases her. Ears draw back at his question and she glances back toward the thick line of trees in which she had come from as if to tell him she lived within the town. He wasn’t a wolf so their communication was limited. After a moment she drew nearer, plopping her heavy body down next to his own under the tree with a quiet huff, warm fur pressed against his side. She did need a rest after all before she needed to head back.

viii.

Phen’s eyes follow in the direction that the wolf looked. A tree? Did she live in a tree? That’s odd. He didn’t know of wolves to live in trees. That would have to be extremely uncomfortable! Phen’s mind momentarily boggled at the thought of how that would even work until his brain stopped and he realized his mistake. That was the direction of the city. The direction that he would eventually trek his way back to whenever he would need to go home.

“You live in the city. Sad. It isn’t pretty. These woods are pretty, but you should see my home. It’s the most beautiful realm. The woods there are gorgeous, you would love them.” There’s a dreamy quality to his voice, as if he hadn’t just been home mere minutes ago. Taking the wolf to the fae realm would be a very bad idea. Even if it was tempting, Phen was going to be good. Besides, someone would try to steal the wolf from him and that wouldn’t make for a very happy Phen.

A noise of surprise and pure happiness escapes him when the wolf walks close and sit next to him. The soft fur and warmth of her body is a comforting presence beside him and Phen can’t help but lean into it before he throws his arms around her neck and just buried his face into the fur. “You’re going to be my new best friend. My best wolf friend. Do you wanna see a trick? Of course you wanna see a trick!” Phen sat up slightly, still leaning into Kora as he reached a hand out. It was slow at first, a few sparkles in the air here and there before suddenly surrounding them were bright colorful orbs of light, dimming and brightening as they bobbed in their place. “Isn’t it so pretty… so many colors…”

ix.

Hes speaking of the faerie realm - a place wayward humans occasionally find themselves trapped. At least that is what Kora remembers of the stories her gran used to tell her before she would sleep. It was supposedly a very beautiful place, she was almost jealous that she would never get to see it. That is - if he did not suddenly steal her away. Sidian would never be able to find her then. The thought leaves the wolf weary, but she quietly listens to his tale as if shes back home, in her grandmothers small countryside cottage. Its a place she hasn’t been in a very a long time, not since the elder womans passing. Kora thinks this fae would prefer the forest there over the one they currently reside. Maybe she will tell him of it one day - where many a faerie circle could be found.

Kora had always wanted to meet one of his kind - before she knew a wolf resided beneath her skin. She had sworn she could hear them whispering in the trees - but family thought her mad, a childs imagination on the brink of going much too far. And then - the very wolf with a faes arms wrapped around her neck - had ripped and tore its way out of her skin one night during a full moon. Kora hadn’t been crazy at all, merely in tune with the nature around her always. The brand and this place had taken that away from her.

Hes hugging her now, cold face pressed in to thick fur of her neck and she nudges him instinctively. She would be able to find him now with her scent upon him - that was if he continued to stay on this plane. Excitedly he pulls himself up and Kora answers his question with a small huffed bark, placing a large paw upon his leg. She did love magic - when it wasn’t being used against her. The sparks of light brighten her eyes as she looks about them - they were like brightly colored fireflies in the sky. Truly it was one of the most simplistically beautiful moments she would experience within these woods. Kora finds herself happy as her head tilts to the side when one floats in front of her face. She bops it with her nose and the orb sparks like a small firecracker, causing her to sneeze.

In the quiet of the night, in the darkness of the forest, it’s is easy to miss the look in Phen’s eyes and perhaps for that he’s grateful. There’s a sadness that lurks in the corners, one that finds its spinning threads wrapped tight around him and deep to his core. Crown Point had never been the place that he had intentions of calling home. The world is one so expansive and brilliant, there are so many other places that he could visit. But he’s tethered. There’s a dreaded thread, one black and rotten, that keeps him spinning lost in the void of this city. Returning to the fae realm for trips gives him some solace and a comfort of where his real home is but he can never stay long. No, there’s always the ticking of the clock. Tick tock. Tick tock.

There’s a sudden dark and resounding moment of clarity. It crashed into Phen with no hesitation, washing over his body and his eyes dulled, a flicker as if the light had gone out for a brief moment. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Phen doesn’t like it, no one bit. As quickly as the moment is there, it is gone in the next and Phen’s eyes are bright as they once had been, focused on the orbs of light as if he’d never actually left that reality. Had he left it for a brief space of time?

Phen’s expression is back to that of child-like wonder, following all the little orbs and watching the one that comes across to Kora’s face. There’s a cast of color against her black fur, Phen giving a soft oh at the sight of the display. He breaks into laughter when she sneezed from the orb and rolls himself over into the snow, laying down and looking up at the canopy and the lights until his laughter is that of mere giggles. “They’re so pretty,” he coos before making grabby hands at the wolf again from where he’s laying. “All of the beautiful lights, colorful and glowing. From their windows the humans are dazzled, unknowing. They wander through the forests, following with eyes so entranced. Past trees of willow, elm, and pine they danced. Such a delight, they found the beautiful lights only to find themselves caught in a trap. Oh those silly humans, so prone to mishap.” Phen rattled off, his voice singing in the words with no intention of keeping quiet. He’s one with the forest. One with the night.

“But you!” Phen suddenly exclaimed to the wolf. “Not you. No, never you. You’re not a pesky human. You’re a beautiful wolf who deserves only the show!” He waved his hand in the air, the colorful orbs disappearing. “Can I tell you a secret little wolf? You can’t tell anyone! Not a single soul.”

xi.

There is a lulled quietness in the air as if the whole forest has suddenly gone silent. Too silent. The wolf lifts her head, breathing in the scents around them, ears perked as if to check for any sort of threats. Like maybe a guard come to bring her back - Sidian was fickle that way. Sometimes he could change his mind on a dime. A cruel sort of punishment he’d often played on her here when the heat of their arguments got to be too much. When he had to throw his power around like a spoiled child who wasn’t getting his way. It would break her heart for him to be so cruel - to give her her power and also take them away. She tries to not dwell upon the thought for too long, not here at least. She realizes it’s the fae she is sensing - there is sadness clinging to him like a second skin. What did he have to be sad about? He was was either a civilian or a master. Either way - he was free. She herself still wasn’t free: even this forest felt like a prison.

They both seem lost within their own little worlds before the wolf peers at him, only to suddenly throw her large head into his shoulder and brush up under his neck. His beautiful unearthly eyes had gone dull as if his special spark had gone out. Kora is very familiar with the look - she had shut down fully while that demon had tortured and scarred her. She was still a mere shell of herself, forever a little broken. And she knows he too went somewhere else and she doesnt like it. So she touches another orb, this time nipping at the air. It too sparks like a firecracker much like the first - colors extending in different directions around them. Hes laughing now, falling into the snow and rolling about happily. Fae are such unique creatures, especially this one.

She sits beside him, tail swishing behind her on it’s own accord, looking very much like a loyal and trained pet when she could very easily sink teeth into flesh, or wings. At this time of late evening shes lethal, practically invisible within the dark of night. His sudden burst of song is lovely - familiar in a way she can not place. As if shes heard it in bits and pieces, within a dream, long past. He addresses her again, colored light disappearing - it’s dark and cold once again as he sits up. She makes a small show of digging her paws into the earth. He has a secret and she feels hes going to tell her whether or not she wishes to hear it. She glances back in the direction of the wooded trail covered in a thick blanket of snow that leads back to the city, shes still left curious, but she should get back soon.

xii.

If the bitter cold was not closing in and the snow melting into his clothes, Phen would have been happy to stay outside for as long as he could. The night sky is bright with stars, the eerie shadows of the forest that hugged each other, and the creatures that ran through the night. For others it might have been scary, a scene from a nightmare — but not for Phen. There’s a reason his apartment has been made to resemble this scenery, as close to possible to his home in the fae realm. Every person needs their own escape and in a city that is overwhelming for Phen, that apartment is his escape. There’s a comfort in knowing that even when he leaves this forest tonight, he’ll be back to another.

“Somewhere in the forest,” Phen started when he’d sat up beside the wolf. “There’s a small little ring of beautiful dark blue flowers. They’re tiny, tiny. Little wonders. I worked very hard on them. When the moon is high and full, something really special happens.” He pressed a finger to his lips. “But you shouldn’t go near them, okay? I like you. You’re my wolf.” Phen hugged her once again, enjoying the feeling of her soft fur one more time. Often times, it’s humans who find their way to the little circle. They wander at night or during the day and stray too far from the path.

In a burst of colorful light, he’s back on his feet about a foot away from Kora. He brushed off as much of the snow as he could before he clapped his hands together. “It is getting late! The moon will be gone and her rival will be up. Will you walk back with me?” Phen asked as he took a few steps forward, a hand reached out to pat Kora’s head. “You protect me and I protect you! There are a lot of scary creatures in the forest. You should never trust the shadows. And never trust the fae… but you can trust me.”

xiii.

He is speaking of a faerie ring - shes all too familiar with those, having searched for them every summer she spent in that little cottage. Would it be seen beneath all this heavy snow? Respect the fae and they would be kind to you, but never trust them. She left them little childish gifts, and spoke to them as if they were listening. The forest was her home, and it was where she ran and hid after every smack or nights when fathers drank too much of the angry juice. She was too odd, too strange, with eyes that were more than human. Even off-putting to other children. She looked like her mother. But the fae, they never took her away, never came to rescue her. She did that all by herself - all teeth and claws.

Suddenly there is a burst of light and hes standing a few feet away. What a neat trick. The wolf stands, makes to follow but stops herself. You’re my wolf. She belongs to another, protects another. Sidian. She’s been with him for years. He tells her to bring him anothers heart - she does it without question. She’s been with him through everything - until the day she ran. Until the day she hurt him. The fae pats her head, but shes lost in thought again. Abruptly shes throwing back her head to howl sadly into the night - she is met with silence. No pack answers, as they are either dead or locked away in cages.

And with that, she slowly follows in step, intent on at least helping him get back into town before he potentially freezes to death. Kora doesn’t want to get into trouble for accidentally killing or letting someone of higher rank die. Though she knows hes perfectly equipped to take care of himself out here.

Faeries can not tell a lie.

#&&. kora #&&. history

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eugen32 · 6 years ago

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Behold, my Summoner

Screw it, doing one of these

I saw a Summoner asks thing and decided it'd be fun to do, bit late but who cares?

Might as well make this my first lengthy post

@erachas-faithful’s post gave me the questions I use here, so go check ‘em out

(No drawings because I have no artistic skill whatsoever and don't have the means for a commission, prepare to read, a lot, you’ve been warned)

My Summoner’s name is Jackson, he’s got dirty blond hair and Emerald-green eyes, slightly clumsy and odd but can be scarily efficient when shtick hits the proverbial fan, he’s a rather anxious lad but also kind-hearted and hard-working (and just the tiniest bit cowardly)

how he came to Askr is the way pretty much every other summoner did, how it happened was beyond him and he was minding his own business when it did. but where most summoners would probably have a graceful or cool entrance when they pop in my guy falls flat on his face, probably not a first here but I find it gives him character

His hobbies include reading, writing in a journal Sharena gave him, exploring the castle and forest, and making new tactics (some of the heroes also give him phyiscal training). Not much else to say about that

He’s got some bad habits that are seen in-game, like overworking himself and not getting enough sleep, he also has confidence issues and a tendency to hide his negative emotions. Along with that, he has a hatred of “showing weakness”, like crying, being visibly shaken or sad, it gets to the point where he’ll hide what he minor wounds (which just makes most of the clerics worried as hell)

He’s generally very close with his heroes, at least when he can get through to them, he gets along naturally with the good guys (and on some occasions, some of the Villains), some of the colder heroes will eventually warm up to him and all that. and there are others, like B!Lyn or Camilla, his first two summons, who have gotten extremely close to him, but all-in-all most of the heroes he summons take to him rather well

More below if you’re interested.

He has some innate talent when it comes to tactics but when he starts out he’s not all that good, but when he summons some other tacticians he gets some tutoring and help with all that.

How Jackson reacted to his first summon: *Excited Cackling and slight fear*

How he reacts now: Shrugs to more Excited Cackling depending on how good of a summon he gets

How long he’s been Summoner, about two to three years, he’s used to it by now

It took some definite getting used to but he’s adjusted better than Anna expected

B!Lyn, Camilla, Fjorm and Nailah

B!Lyn, she was his very first summon after all

Time, the fact that he’s rather helpless in battle made her protective, they work well together, there’s also this one time she accidentally forced the two of them to chase someone through small, tight, caverns. which is how she learned that Jackson has Claustrophobia. it all just kinda bubbled up until it finally boiled over

Camilla, Tiki and Fae, Sakura, Fjorm, Eir, Marth, Eliwood, Hector, and L!Ike, but these are more Familial-type than Romantic

For #15, I don’t do supports all that often (please don’t lynch me)

He misses the tech the most, going from a highly advanced society like ours today to a much more primitive one like Askr’s is one of the two things that threw him off the most

He’d probably bring his dog if he can manage it

He had his robe modified, with help from Oboro to make the sleeves less unwieldy, they’re now small enough to be tucked under his gloves which go somewhat past the wrist.

19 is kinda confusing to me. if it’s talking about the other summoners I’m friends with on Tumblr, it’d be a whopping 0. if you want I could list the other OC summoners that I’ve made alongside this dorkus summoner of mine

he takes off the Jacket/Cloak/Whateverthehellyoucallit, which just leaves his pants, boots, and undershirt (which I like to think is sleeveless). on colder days when that isn’t really smart, he’ll wear a sweater that the Heroes made for him

My headcanon is that he doesn’t really summon duplicates (unless, say, it’s a possessed alt like Berukt or Celica, and some other exceptions) any other Alts are simply the same hero changing clothes or weapons, and summonings aren’t as common as they appear to be in-game. sending them home, however, is another thing. since there aren’t any duplicates or alts, and IVs aren’t really a thing, the hero has to do something unforgivable to be sent home, like betray them or raze a village or something. he only did this twice, to Arvis and Michalis

Jackson isn’t that good of a fighter and doesn’t own a weapon, he’s being trained by the Heroes to fight but he doesn’t own a weapon or have any special ability besides Briedabilk and summoning

If he can get his hands on a good, sturdy weapon, he can indeed hold his own fairly well. but he’s only good enough to defend himself long enough for a hero (mostly Lyn, but occasionally its other Heroes) to swoop in and cut them down

I’ve currently got 194 heroes under my belt

For me, Book 2 was probably the one that hit me hardest, for Jackson it’s probably Book 3

Sword user, Red mage, Or Archer

Any of the colder, crueler heroes he clashes with the most, people like Ursula and Arvis, some more recent examples also include Death Knight and Kronya

Lyn, because best Waifu, there’s also Marth and Fjorm too.

The heroes I get a lot Gwendolyn, Marth (Ironically), Gordin, and a few others I can’t be bothered to remember

Jackson has “officially” adopted nobody, but the ones he’s pretty much adopted are Fae, Tiki, Nowi, both Kanna, Sakura, Myrrh, Tiny Azura, Ninian, Yglr, B!Veronica, and Maria

He doesn’t often unless his other Summoner friends drag him along to one

Not a clue who I want to see next, maybe Mila, if that would work

He might actually go with Lyn, Eliwood, and Hector back to their world, either that or they all adopt a nomadic life and just jump around worlds like a Multiversal, but much smaller version of the Greil Mercenaries (but out of the options, he’d probably go with Askr)

Jackson’s family would be significantly surprised, he’s gone for years and then shows back up one day with some weird-ass clothes and a girlfriend, they would ultimately be very happy for him though, albeit sad that he has no intention of staying.

And finally, I’m gonna re-state the question here

If Jackson could change just one thing? he might just undo that mess with Arvis and Michalis, otherwise, nothing at all.

What a wholesome note to end on, congrats if you made it this far down, Either I’m better at catching attention then I thought or you’re bored and have nothing better to do, please do tell me your thoughts and if ya want me to continue posting about this junk (I might just do it anyway, this stuff is kinda fun)

#fe heroes #fe summoner #fire emblem heroes #fire emblem #character design #tellmewhaty'allthink

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acidwaste · 7 years ago

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hey so it seems i’ve forgot to do a l o t of tag memes, and i’m lucky i drafted a big bunch of them! lots of questions overlapped so i did my best to answer in different ways, sorry for the lateness! also @ the people that tagged me here, i wouldn't hesitate to kill for you

@natcaptor / @gayspaced

nicknames: literally the only nickname I’ve been referred to is “big gay” and like. word!

gender: im pretty sure im a guy, i have been kinda 🤔🤔🤔 abt my gender identity since around november-ish though

star sign: sagittarius!

height: 6’1! i’m told that I’m tall but my uncle is 6’7 so...

time: 3:36pm rn! ive been watching video essays and binging music all afternoon

birthday: december 9th!

favourite bands: animal collective, beach house, camp cope, car seat headrest, death grips, fleet foxes, florence + the machine, gang of youths, glass animals, gorillaz, hop along, iceage, idles, kero kero bonito, mgmt, miike snow, modest mouse, run the jewels, superorganism, the avalanches, the cat empire, the go! team, the mountain goats, the wombats, xiu xiu

favourite solo artists: alex lahey, anderson .paak, ariana grande, billie eilish, bjork, cashmere cat, charli xcx, courtney barnett, cupcakke, d.r.a.m, eric taxxon, frank ocean, gfoty, hatchie, janelle monae, jeff rosenstock, joanna newsom, jorja smith, jpegmafia, kacey musgraves, kali uchis, kendrick lamar, khalid, kimbra, lorde, mac demarco, madeon, mick jenkins, mitski, oneohtrix point never, perfume genius, ravyn lenae, rina sawayama, serpentwithfeet, sophie, st. vincent, sza, vince staples

song stuck in my head: caramelo duro | miguel // kali uchis! its a bop, miguel is one of the few singers that can convincingly make sex jams

last movie i watched: deadpool 2! it was even better than the first, which is a feat in itself ngl

when did i create my blog: december 2016??? i only started using it properly in february last year tho

last thing i googled: “im in my mums car broom broom.” dont @ me

do i have any other blogs: yeah, plenty actually!! i have blogs for aesthetic (@moltenstar), general inspo (@wverns), flight rising (@szarising, kinda inactive?), and overwatch (@blackhardts) tbh the vast majority of my ‘sideblogs’ are just saved urls H

do i get asks: when i say stupid shit like “rung has the ass of a dilf but the dick of a cockroach”

why i chose my url: that one panel where kobd have a vacation at the acid wastes because fuck its finally canon babey!

following: 1,767, which is kinda horrifying!!

followers: 890?? somehow??? thats almost One Whole Thousand and i don't even make content

average hours of sleep: around 6 or 7!! n e v e r more though

lucky number: 43 and 64!!

instruments: i'm too poor to afford music lessons or instruments jsbddsjknfs

what am i wearing: a grey shirt and nothing on my bottom half so my [redacted] is hanging tf out, i should put on some damn clothes

dream job: oooo uhhh, i’m studying to get an education degree rn because i’d love to teach children (around grade 3-4s preferably because i'm too jittery to handle anyone younger and older kids probs won't listen to me as much as i lack plenty of assertiveness), but!! i’d honestly love to be a musician, one of those underground ones that get lots of critical acclaim

dream trip: one day i wanna gather up some friends and just go on a road trip! idm where we go to, as long as we just have fun and just! adventure!

favourite foods: rare steak, mashed potatoes, eggs, and energy shakes made with like. fruit / cheese / yoghurt / oats / chia seeds ! protein is a large part of my diet

nationality: new zealand, but living in australia

favourite song right now: best part | daniel caesar // h.e.r - gosh i need to re-listen to daniel’s album again, i don’t remember this beautiful song being there and that’s a crime

@damndesi / @novarebel / @luciform-philogynist

APPEARANCE - I am 5'7 or taller - I wear glasses - I have at least one tattoo (but I am getting a tā moko in December, I believe) - I have at least one piercing (planning to get a nose ring, like a bull!) - I have blonde hair - I have brown eyes - I have short hair - My abs are at least somewhat defined (b a r e l y) - I have or had braces

PERSONALITY - I love meeting new people - People tell me I am funny - Helping others with their problems is a big priority of mine - I enjoy physical challenges - I enjoy mental challenges - I am playfully rude to people I know - I started saying something ironically and now I can’t stop saying it - There is something I would change about my personality

ABILITY - I can sing well - I can play an instrument - I can do over 30 pushups without stopping (barely) - I am a fast runner - I can draw well - I have a good memory - I am good at doing math in my head - I can hold my breath underwater for over a minute - I have beaten at least 2 people arm wrestling - I can make at least 3 recipes from scratch - I know how to throw a proper punch

HOBBIES - I enjoy sports - I’m on a sports team at my school or somewhere else - I’m in an orchestra or choir at my school or somewhere else - I have learned a new song in the past week - I exercise at least once a week - I have gone for runs at least once a week in warmer months - I have drawn something in the past month - I enjoy writing - Fandoms are my #1 priority - I do some form of Martial arts

EXPERIENCES - I have had my first kiss - I have had alcohol (tastes like shit) - I have scored a winning point in a sport - I have watched an entire TV series in one sitting - I have been at an overnight event - I have been in a taxi - I have been in the hospital or ER in the past year - I have beaten a video game in one day - I have visited another country - I have been to one of my favorite bands concerts

MY LIFE - I have one person that I consider to be my Best Friend - I live relatively close to my school/work - My parents are still together - I have at least one sibling - I live in the United States - There is snow where I live right now - I have hung out with a friend in the past month - I have a smart phone - I own at least 15 CDs - I share my room with someone

RELATIONSHIPS - I am in a Relationship - I have a crush on a celebrity - I have a crush on someone I know - I’ve been in at least 3 relationships - I have never been in a Relationship - I have admitted my feelings to a crush - I get crushes easily - I have had a crush for over a year - I have been in a relationship for over a year - I have had feelings for a friend

RANDOM - I have break-danced - I know a person named Jamie - I have had a teacher that has a name that is hard to pronounce - I have dyed my hair - I’m listening to a song on repeat right now - I have punched someone in the past week - I know someone who has gone to jail - I have broken a bone (do fractures count?) - I have eaten a waffle today - I know what I want to do in life - I speak at least two languages (not fluently) - I have made a new friend in the past year

@smstransformers

age: 16

birthplace: auckland, nz

current time: 4:19 pm rn!!!

drink you last had: i just skulled half a liter of water whoops

favourite song: jesus etc. | wilco if we're talking abt an all-time favourite

grossest memory: accidentally swallowing a bee when i was seven years old (somehow nothing bad happened?)

horror, yes or no: not unless it’s an incredibly tame horror t b h, my threshold for scariness is very low

in love: i believe so!

jealous of people: lots of times, over really dumb things

love by first sight or should I walk by again: i believe that infatuation can exist at first sight but true love not so much. wish that could happen tho :C

middle name: shane!

siblings: my sister is eight years old, and my brother is seven!

one wish: EZ, make my anxiety disappear, i’d have a much more productive life

song i last sang: jupiter | haiku hands

time i woke up: 7:13, woke up immediately because i usually like to wake at 6:30

underwear colour: blue + purble

vacation destination: auckland / kingston / sydney!

worst habit: not remembering to make my goddamn bed, it looks like garbage

favourite food: mashed potatoes….

zodiac sign: sagittarius !!!

@alyonian

relationship status:

at the moment i’m single! and while being in a relationship sounds brilliant, the last two relationships i was involved in? didn’t work out to say the least, lucky i’m still young

favourite colour:

it’s been emerald green for the longest time but orange seems to be dethroning it at a steady pace

lipstick or chapstick:

i haven’t used chapstick since i was six but i probably should use it again, water is my substitute rn fdghdgh - and i haven’t ever used lipstick in any capacity? so i’d have to go with the former

last song i listened to:

the space traveller’s lullaby | kamasi washington - i’m trying to get through his second album rn (i left off on the second disk yesterday) and while everything he makes is undeniably amazing, it’s? a three hour album? i don’t have the attention span for his spiritual jazz, as great as it is

last movie:

monsters inc is playing on the television right now, i’ll go with that! the animation aged kinda badly but it’s still such a fun movie! sidenote: james p. sullivan? a childhood crush, so this gives me memories

top 3 tv shows/podcasts/comics:

i rarely, if ever, venture into these forms of media but! if i had to answer, i’d say;

unbreakable kimmy schmidt / parks & recreation / luke cage

taz / mbmbam (i havent like. watched a full episode of either but they seem cool,)

tf idw / …………. yeah that’s it, i’ve never read anything else. probably should!

additional favs:

my friends, writing (in theory), listening to video essays, learning music theory + instruments and understanding audio production software

top 3 bands / artists:

HHH okay if i had to limit my choices to just three artists, uh. lorde, the mountain goats, and sophie. i couldnt even fit janelle in i hate th is

----------------------------------

@alyonian

color(s): light colors are always nice and pleasant, though anything peachy and sandy are the best! orange (specially pastel orange) is like. the best thing

last band t-shirt i bought: usually merchandising is very expensive and i dont have the money to accommodate that, but like. i do recall having a wiggles shirt when i was five. i wore it all the time, shjdjgsksd im sure that counts

last band i saw live: i almost went to splendor in the grass last year with family, which wasn't only cool since i’ve never been out of the state since i immigrated - the festival was in queensland, which is around a two hour flight from victoria - but the lineup was pretty fuckin lit too! the xx, haim, peking duk, tash sultana, future islands, vallis alps, a.b original,, i was p excited! unfortunately my uncle fell ill and so they had to give the tickets to extended family :( otherwise, i haven't been to a single concert in my life

last song i listened to: street fighter mas | kamasi washington - up to this song on the album and i really fuckin dig this! also the video is hypnotizing

last movie i watched: monsters inc is about to finish and up next is monsters university! which like…. honestly, this is an extremely unpopular opinion but, i like it just as much as the original? my opinion might be skewed because i’m a monster [hugger], but i like everything abt the movie! except for the finale of the scare games and the last five minutes of the movie, both were just. dreadful.

last three tv shows i watched: if aggretsuko counts that’s the last series i watched of my own volition, which is a miracle in itself considering that’s legit only the second anime i’ve watched to completion (the first being shirokuma cafe, which i probably need to re-watch). otherwise, the last two shows i had beared witness to were thirteen reasons why and queer eye bc my cousin put them on! that first show i could completely do without but queer eye is iconique

last 3 characters i identified with: grimlock (legit. all of them), urdnot grunt (mass effect) and vector the crocodile (sth), i’m not sure what this says about me other than Big

book(s) i’m currently reading: i’m reading ‘maus’ by art spiegelman at the moment, for the third time i believe? i believe my classmates are supposed to be writing an essay on this next term and shit, this novel is heartbreaking, i haven't been this emotional when reading a book than… ever, really. it’s a recommendation of the highest caliber

@victorion

name: leon / lionel, i picked up the second name because i was in a server with an admin that was also a Leon™

nickname: besides ‘Big Gay’ i also have the nickname ‘lemon lion’ which is! nice!!

zodiac sign: archer man

height: Tall™

language(s) spoken: english / some maori + italian

fav fruit: watermelons (only when in season)

fav scent: the smell of a freezer tbh? it just smells Nice i don’t know how to properly explain it

fav season: spring! the breezes are welcoming without being overbearingly freezing

fav color: ornge,,,,

fav animal: SHARKS + CROCS + FERRETS

coffee, tea or hot chocolate: tea! with some milk tho

average hrs of sleep: too little

fav fictional character: One character?????? uhhhhhhh……. like. biggest cc right now is either idw skids or oz from monster prom

no. of blankets you sleep with: depending on my mood but i’d say the average is like, 3??

fav songs: i quickly whipped up some songs i listen to

fav artists: i came to the realization that i like acts that are considered ‘bad’ like maroon 5/drake/lil yachty etc in specific doses… i wouldn't call them good yet, but! i have no beef and thats good

fav books: remember ‘where the wild things are’??? that shit was like. literal childhood, man.. :happytears: i really need to look for a copy again

@thonany-klieme

gender: male, im probs an nb guy

star sign: sagittarius!

height: 6’1

sexuality: gay??? im not sure, im mostly attracted to other guys but i have had very brief crushes on girls + nb people? sexuality’s confusing so im gonna just latch to the gaybel (gay label) for now

lock screen image: its the album cover of 1992 deluxe by princess nokia, tho it was “T Hanos” a few days ago since i change it often - my home screen is venom but his torso says ‘fuck machine’

ever had a crush on a teacher: no??

where do you see yourself in ten years: ideally i’m teaching kids math n english, realistically i’m probably going down with the political climate

if you could go anywhere, where would you go: new zealand!! or the netherlands

what was your favorite halloween costume: halloween is not big at all where i live, the only time i tried trick or treating was when i was like 7?? i threw a bedsheet on myself and pretended to be a ghost, though since there were no eyeholes + the sheet was blue, it looked more like i was just a moving lump

last kiss: never had one

have you ever been to las vegas: nah and i dont plan to?? how do you handle regular days of 40C wtf

favorite pair of shoes: i have this pair of jandals that ive worn for a fair bit longer than my other pair of shoes, tho i only wear them in summer + very warm nights

favorite book: ngl its. ‘the very hungry caterpillar’ by eric carle. i just, love it alot and i cant explain w h y

#acid.txt #this took a while but :wahoo:

8 notes · View notes

artcanary · 7 years ago

Note

1-50

oh my god dude

im gonna put this under a cut bc this is a lot. this is a ride, have fun i guess

1. Your first OC ever?god. its got to be Super Kitty. when i was like … an incredibly small child I used to draw comic strips about this feline caped crusader, who was friends with everyone in the city, and the comics always involved him stopping an evil banana man from stealing money from the local bank. He was paid with donuts for his service to the city. i still remember how to draw him.

2. Do you have a personal favourite among your OCs?i’d get arrested if I didn’t answer this with Bronze, probably… but really, they’re very important to me

3. Have you ever adopted a character or gotten a character from someone else?man, i cant remember! i really dont think i have… P:

4. A character you rarely talk about?there’s loads of characters ive never even posted a single picture of on tumblr, i wouldnt even know where to start asdf

5. If you could make only one of your OCs popular/known, who would it be? bronze is the easy answer, but… i guess that could also go to Servant or Westrin. Servant has a comic project in the works that basically stars him, sort of a series of one-shots about the things he’s experienced, i feel like that would be a good thing to take off and run with. Westrin’s just fun as hell, i love the guy.

6. Two OCs of yours that look alike despite not being related?real talk now… there’s at least five different characters that i refer to as a whole as “bronze-tangential”, who started out as, “what would bronze be like if they were in this world?” and then becoming their own thing within said world because i just get stupid attached

its an epidemic

7. Are your OCs part of any story or stories?nearly all of them, actually. that’s the main reason i make characters, after all! too many to really go into specifics here, again P:

8. Do you RP as any of your OCs? If you do, introduce one of your RP OCs here!not often, but i think Bronze and Westrin are the most common ones. unless playing a character in dnd, or running an npc in dnd counts… then a whole lot more hahaha

9. Would you ever be willing to give any of your OCs to someone else?it depends on the circumstances. i don’t really like the idea, though.

10. Introduce an OC with a complicated design? Westrin’s old getup is a pain to draw, and there was one other design i did that I cant find anywhere… whichever way, i dont often tend to draw super complicated things often

a couple fakemon ive designed though… heheh those can get pretty finicky

11. Is there any OC of yours you could describe as a “sunshine”? hmmmmmmmm my immediate thought was Eric Silverdale from a comic i was working on a few years ago. hes a darling, i want him to be my friend irl

12. Name an OC that isn’t yours but who you like a lothow could you do this to me i love each and every one of all my friends ocs GOD the first one who comes to mind is @d20-official‘s Smith, whos Bronze’s friend… everyone in that DND party actually

13. Do you have any troublemaker OCs? Rated on a scale from “harmless” to “honestly somewhat frightening”: -Baromet (charming and quite friendly but definitely a kleptomaniac),-Westrin (demigod of bards and travelers), -XEN09 (a nonsense hacker), -Conny (needlessly contrarian and dumb as HELL), -Enza Colie (long fucking story but hes a good-for-nothing), -Hemlocke (mad scientist, chaotic evil), -Iris (AI and hacker, VERY bad), -The Terminus (glitch-in-the-matrix demon, chaotic evil), -and Sydd (the Queen of the Faeries, hopefully the danger there needs no explaining :’D)

14. Introduce an OC with a tragic backstory Mmm… there’s a few of them, most obviously Lent (whose background I did a short comic about). Basically his entire town got eaten by ghosts and turned into zombies, he only barely survived with a sliver of his soul left.

15. Do you like to talk about your OCs with other people?yes, i often discuss storylines and such with friends

16. Which one of your OCs would be the best at biology (school subject)? Probably Bronze’s dad! I don’t talk about him much, but his name’s Devon Reed, and he was a biotech developer specialising in android design.

I often describe him as being something of a reverse Arthur Weasley - a very fatherly scientist fascinated to the moon and back with the concept of magic.

17. Any OC OTPs? having trouble thinking of a lot of them right now, but there’s Eric + Lent & Naiadine + Tailias from Emerald Sigil, Avken + Baromet from my space campaign world, Sydd + Wyvv from my unnamed campaign world, and I’ve been considering Westrin + Servant as an interesting dynamic in Servant’s story

18. Any OC crackships? My character Bismuth and @autistictimeknight‘s oc Eros. Theyre so fucking in love, I love it. Its been awhile but I do still think about them sometimes.

As I recall, Eros is an empath, she can read other people’s emotions. But Bismuth is a robot, and Eros can’t read her. Because of this Eros can let go of her fear of unintentionally manipulating the emotions of her date, which would hold her back from most other relationships.

19. Introduce an OC that means a lot to you (and explain why)Hey, meet Bronze! I definitely do not talk about them every five minutes, why would you say that.

Bronze was with me through two of the hardest years of my life so far, and being a DND character they grew with me, both as a fighter and as a person. They were non-binary before I started using those pronouns, they were the first character or person or anything who I fought someone about using the right pronouns for, they make a great icebreaker for if I want to see how someone reacts to non-binary pronouns …

One funny anecdote about Bronze is that when I first made them, their “gimmick” was that they would sometimes glitch out and mess up their speech, mostly because I wanted an excuse not to engage in the roleplaying (which I was very bad at). The interesting thing is that as I got better at interacting with the group, we both grew out of needing it very quickly.

I’m very proud of Bronze.

20. Do any of your OCs sing? If they sing, care to share more details (headcanon voice, what kind of songs they like etc)?Westrin is a bard! His singing voice sounds like Bill Wurtz and these are his theme songs.

21. Your most artistic OCProbably Westrin again, he writes a lot of songs… and Hallux is a game designer?

22. Is there any OC of yours people tend to mischaracterize? If yes, how? I honestly dont know… no-one talks to me about them, haha!

people use all manner of pronouns for bronze, though.

23. Introduce OC that has changed from your first idea concerning what the character would be like?I’m gonna go with Enza for this one. Enza Colie was originally written entirely because I wanted an antagonist for a short starring his sister, Jane Colie. But the more I fleshed out his reasonings for acting how he did and explored his character, the more I realised he’d make an even more interesting character if allowed to have a redemption arc, too.

I just want to state for the record that I was very reluctant to the idea, and he basically dragged his way out of the villain pit entirely of his own accord. I am dubiously proud of him, and also a bit scared.

24. If you could meet one OC of yours, who would it be and why?Probably either Eric (Big Man, Best Friend), Crocus (Mother figure), Reed (Father Figure), Westrin (hed just make a good friend u kno??), or Bismuth (she makes good conversation!)

25. The OC that resembles you the most (same hobby, height, shared like/dislike for something etc?)probably the homestuck fan-troll Hallux, but that’s mostly because they were based on a troll-sona I made awhile ago. They’re a hope/prospit game designer who is small and full of rage and love

oh, and there’s dave! dave’s a superhero speedster, existing in a modern-day superhero version of seattle. theyre idiot, just like me,

26. Have you ever had to change your OC’s design or something else about them against your will? this is an interesting one… i don’t think ive ever had something Bad in a design ive done called to my attention by someone, but I did create my character Servant at around the same time I was first really expanding the diversity of my casts. (since i don’t talk about him often, a little context: he’s a magic spirit creature bound to human form to serve the royal family of the land and follow their orders.)

somehow, younger-and-more-stupid me managed to have the revelation that making this “eternal slave” character literally anything other than a white man, especially as a white author, would be Pretty Not Good. im … thats really, really not something i should pat myself on the back for, but i do consider it one of the biggest bullets dodged in my artistic career so far that i realised that not all representation is good representation so quickly, before i could make that incredibly, incurably stupid mistake.

after that, trying to make sure my characters and their presentations don’t harm anyone pretty much has become a paranoia. i don’t seem to have stepped on any toes yet, but when it inevitably happens, please let me know - i didnt know, and i want to fix it!

27. Any OCs that were inspired by a certain song? None that I can think of, actually! I don’t really do that often.

28. Your most dangerous OC? god damn it i have no idea!!! is it the terminus? glitch in the matrix god of chaos motherfucker?is it sarle? terrifying calculating scientist with the power of the soul at her fingertips ??? is it ares??? is it athena????? is it petra?????? the gatekeeper????

… actually, the gatekeeper might be it, if “dangerous” just refers to “the amount of raw power it can wield”. the Gatekeeper is a titanic entity that exists in interdimensional multiverse space, and its implied to have the ability to create and destroy entire universe bubbles at will. for what cosmic purpose, no-one knows.

at a more personal scale, though, literally all of the aforementioned characters are pretty bad to run into too.

29. Which one of your OCs would go investigate an abandoned house at night without telling anyone they’re going?god. Mina or Tawn. Tawn is the Indiana Jonesy type and probably dumb enough, but also competent enough not to get into too much trouble there. Mina would probably drag her friends along.

30. Which one of your OCs would most likely have a secret stuffed animal collection? XEN09. No-one knows, because no-one knows xir personal identity. Xe absolutely does, though. It’s less of a secret if you know xir in person, but good luck finding out about it otherwise.

31. Pick one OC of yours and explain what their tumblr blog would be like (what they reblog, layout, anything really)dave just reblogs memes all the time tbh. they like to keep tabs on the ridiculous superhero news going on, and they show human jokes and cat videos to their alien gf. they dont really post or add to posts, but they talk in tags a lot.

32. Which one of your OCs would be the most suitable horror game protagonist and why? i want to say tawn because i literally just realised ive been imagining their voice as sounding like luigi this entire fucking time and i never realised until this exact instant

33. Your shyest OC?probably baromet. they prefer to keep to themself in their hideout, with their collection of shiny things. they don’t really enjoy trying to communicate much, mostly because they expect to get yelled at.

34. Do you have any twin characters?Yes! At least two sets;

- Crocus and Sarle. (x) (x) They don’t exactly have a very well-developed relationship, but they are both quite important to the plot of my campaign world, and they are both very interesting. Crocus is a motherly figure who just exudes friendliness, while Sarle is .. very much not that, a researcher studying very gruesome things and pushing the boundaries of reality.

- Jane and Enza Colie. I haven’t talked a whole lot about either of them here, but I’d rather leave their story to do the talking whenever I get around to it. Essentially, the both of them were intended to do the dirty work for their crime boss family, but Jane ditched to study medicine. Most of the conflict between the two of them comes out of Enza not understanding why she made the choice she did, and coming to understand how he’s been manipulated.

35. Any sibling characters? I can’t really think of any off the top of my head, I should … I should really work on that.

I can talk about Westrin, though. Westrin (a demigod of many things, but namely bards, travel, travelers, and people who are lost) often becomes close friends with mortals, sometimes practically adopting them. These people who consider him family, and people who have received his blessing, are able to use his surname, Brilanta, as their own if they choose. So I guess all of the Brilantas are siblings, at least in spirit.

Oh, and XEN09 has like, seven siblings. Xe is the second-oldest, and least remarkable.

36. Do you have OC pairs where the other part belongs to someone else (siblings, lovers, friends etc)? I already talked about Eros and Bismuth up there a ways in question 18, but I’ll talk about another relationship here. @autistictimeknight‘s character, Nova the Alchemist, is mentor and adopted parental figure to my character Munna. Munna … Munna isn’t a very good apprentice. She tries very hard.

37. Introduce an OC who is not quite human That’s most of them, I’m not quite sure what to say here. Bronze is an android? Bronze again? Westrin? All the aliens ??

38. Which one of your OCs would be the best dancer? man. uh. westrin or jean. or perhaps valencia.

39. Introduce any character you want ??? uhhhHHHhhHHH Lord Brillium is the reigning deity of the Cloud Kingdoms in the other campaign setting I’m working on. They represent light and the quest for knowledge, and spend most of their days in the Cathedral Observatory watching the stars.

40. Any fond memories linked to your characters? Feel free to share!one time bronze flew a hover-bike through the stained glass window in a cathedral blaring all star by smash mouth on their iguana

also one time bronze rickrolled a rakshasa demon and then pulled updog on it like, two minutes later

another time bronze scared off an entire army by pretending to be an automated security system

41. Has anyone drawn fanart of your OCs? If yes, maybe show a picture or two here (remember sources & permissions!)ive got a whole little folder on here from all you blessed people !!!! right now ive got a drawing quinn did of one o fmy characters as my lockscreen

but i think the one i’ll really never ever get over is this piece of Jane, by @rabendraws / @owoltron:

(i bet you thought i forgot about this, dude. dude. think again.)

42. Which one of your OCs would be the most interested in Greek gods? this is kind of a weird question, m, I feel like Bismuth would find learning about the mythos utterly fascinating, as would Tawn.

43. Do you have any certain type when you create your OCs? Do you tend to favour some certain traits or looks? It’s time to confesshaha. uh. i might.

aside from the entire “bronze-tangential characters” thing i mentioned awhile back, I tend to really like designing characters with hair color lighter than their skin color. it just looks so cool man. i love drawing freckles but dont put them on enough characters. i like really curly hair, but also really long and flowy hair. i like drawing triangular body types, and pointy/prominent noses.

44. Something you like about your OCs in generaluhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh this is a really vague question. m. m.

45. A character you no longer use?there’s old versions of characters, but a lot of my older ones have been somehow repurposed. I guess there’s Turien, my first-ever DND character, who’s just kind of sitting dead now. Haven’t really done anything with him other than a pretty recent tangential character.

46. Has anyone ever told you that you treat your OCs badly?Not that I can think of.

47. Has anyone ever (friendly) claimed any of your OCs as their child? Im certain it’s happened, but I can’t remember any specific instances.

48. OC who is a perfect cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pureSpring. spring knows nothing of th dangers of the world who is letting them into fights someon eneeds to stop this

(spring roll, hehe.)

49. Which one of your OCs would most likely enjoy memesim not sure what this question is asking since many of my ocs actively enjoy memes including but not limited to westrin, dave, bronze, xen09, iris, and doctor archersen

50. Give me the good ol’ OC talk here. Talk about anything you wanti think. i think im going to pass on this one. i gave you the good old oc talk. your damn turn, yall:

if you have any questions about any of these guys feel free to shoot one at me!

thats all from me im tired and its one am. techskylander you absolute madman

#yetanotherOCmeme #WHY #personal

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oasisfound · 4 years ago

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An Afternoon Haze Pg 3 Ch1 The sun was setting and darkness would soon be upon them. And still, he could see the wreckage behind him, too far to turn back, too close to be a decent distance. He closed his eyes, beginning to shake the uncertainty and guilt creeping in... “Come on now, we can't keep our eyes back there, we need to keep going- it was fun! No...don't say that. It still hurts too much” he shuddered and continued onwards. Dragging Ables makeshift sled as he pressed through the ever-deepening blizzard... he had been too afraid to check for a pulse in the last hour...two...three hours?...the sun was moving so swiftly perhaps it was just a few minutes. But his knees ached, now his head hurt...shut up shut up...you couldn't save them “STOP” looking down at his browning petals, he noticed his motion had been slowed so severely to the frost; it had crawled under his jacket and began stabbing through his flesh.He observed the frost..exquisite designs, scorched into his skin...and he started marching on once again. The sun had reached Paradises opening and was casting beams of golden, once hopeful light throughout the snow, Elliot closed his eyes, biting his lip hard...he couldn't block out the memories...he had to relive it, he had to…So... This is how it happened. It was the day we were going to make a point. We were going to speak out against the religious massacre. We were going to bomb the lower storeroom where our parents maintained all the artifacts. It was one bomb one small bomb. Its radius was tiny it wasn't anything it would've barely wiped out the artifacts. We double, triple checked, it even had glitter in it, it was supposed to coat the lower cellar in glitter and ash. But something else transpired.Think…Think…What went on just hours ago… “This one's going to be big. We’ll show them those stupid artifacts are just hurting the people around them” “Elliot I think you’re taking out some pent-up aggression on old collectibles…” “NAH. anyhow it is going to be fabulous. It’ll coat the whole lower cellar in glitter” “oh yeah perfect then they’ll know exactly who did it.” “A bit late I already set it up…” “You- what? Without me.” “I told you my plan, you’ll have no part in it Able, you’ve gotta keep up the perfect child look” “Where’s no perfect child look” “Good good, keep it up, they’ll never suspect us” KNOCK “yEllOW?” From beyond the closet door came the ear wracking ring of Lady Elizabeth’s voice. Elliots Fiance. “I’ve been out on the balcony all day waiting for you! You just left me standing there looking like a complete fool. You made me look stupid. You hurt me AGAIN. You’re the absolute worst possible Fiance I've ever had that’s lived this long and HONESTLY. I can’t wait for you to bite the dust after all you’ve put me through.” “Can we maybe put her in the basement-” “No. go talk to her Elliot. You really need to get it together, you know how her father is, keep this up and you won't make it past the first hour.” “Might be the preferable option…” “well would you rather take the pledge of chastity-” “NOPE!” Elliot kicked the door out, spinning around and taking her hand gently “I’m terribly sorry to have left you there, again, on purpose” “At least I'm trying to make this work, you’re a child.” “A child shouldn't be married off~” “Oh, whatever. Just dance with me and look pretty. You’ll be dead by sunrise” “Oooh, fun, I'm sure I will be.” And we danced and danced...and danced...it, was actually nice...I should’ve been kinder to her...I should've seen it from her side, how horrible it to be treated with such distance before death. We danced for hours and I was bored sick. I made it clear too, I hurt her, and at the time I didn't care...we talked so much about wanting each other dead, but she didn't deserve it… The banquet. “I could probably eat all of this in one bite” “Yeah, and it would be disgusting.” “Aaaooooommmmn” “Oh wow look at that, I was right, you’re a pig” “You’re jusht jealoush “ Able couldn’t stand looking at me, heheh… But what was he looking at...no, who. Taking a moment off himself he realized there was someone else in Ables vision, someone that caught his eye not just once but twice...and not in a good way. ...ah, an Ebonwood. Lady Elizabeth family, a father more likely...Able was watching him like a Hawke, probably covering my dumbass as always…Fast forward...who was in the gala, looking at creepy pictures of my uncle...someone id never really seen before, I didn't pay much attention then, but he feels so familiar...brown hair, dead eyes, pale skin, wheelchair...why do I know that? Ugh...whos next then... mom, dad…? “No no no, can’t do it, nope, they’re fine, they’re ok, they’ll catch up.” He started to shake again “This was supposed to help c-c’mon I get it I was an asshole, b-but I didn't cause this I didn’t I just lived I lived and others might've too so did Able, and all the ones with wings, that's like a lot of them, a lot of them lived, it wasn't me” His legs caved and he hit the snow. “N-no c’mon. C-c’mon they’ll be fine” He started to curl up “S-stop it body s-stop it, we need to keep g-going” He felt his eyes shut, flashes of his mother and father coming to the surface. “S-stop s-stop.” The sun was setting...and the frost creeping under his petals. “I can't make it on my own…” “I'm sorry…” his petals began to shift black, he felt the sludge creeping up his throat and down his eyes “Let go~” his petals flared into the sky, he was pulled up by his back and thrown onto his feet. A wave of black swept over the snow and an eye began to open on his forehead “FUCK. OFF.” Elliot punched the eye, sending himself backward, the eye squinted, and shut. “S-stay down.” he shivered, shutting his eyes, covered in freezing sweat, he squinted, looking into the distance...headlights...about six of them...scavengers. Elliot dragged himself to his feet, quivering as he raised a hand to the sky, a beam of light shooting up from the snow reflecting through the final of his shimmering gold petals, and creating a lance. Untying the cord from his waist he took a defensive stance...and watched...seven headlights...tinted green...a gang without a doubt… He stood his ground, prepared to fight. And as they arrived, circling, blaring their horns, flashing their lights. His ears dropped, he winced but stood tall...no idea where they were, his shaking was evident, becoming more violent as they laughed, his petals changing darker once more, he felt the sludge crawling up his legs. A silhouette made sharper before him, a woman, advancing gradually, reaching a hand out “a Zephline all the way out here? So you must know what transpired” “SH-SHUT IT” he raised his spear, and she pushed it aside with ease, she pressed her hand to his forehead. A wave of green shooting out from him as she pulled forth a necklace of emeralds. Grabbing him by his collar she lifted him up, looking to Able. “get that one too” The dark shot up to him like fractures in ice pitch-black arteries filling his skin, petals falling and skin turning white. The eye opened and two thorn horns jet out from his skull “oh that was a mistake bitch.” They dug their sharpened talons into her chest ripping out a chunk of flesh, she dropped them, tumbling to her knees, he kicked her down turning to the men who already had pulled the emeralds from Able. “heheh...back. The fuck. Off.” He charged, ripping into the first man, while the other stabbed him in the side twice or thrice, sending him down clawing and punching, a third being stepped forth and pressed his hand to his forehead. And the last thing they could Manage was a gargled, defeated laugh. “The afterlife feels funny…” Elliot opened his eyes, sitting in a field of turquoise, on a mountaintop overlooking hills and seas… “there’s no way I made into the elysian fields.” he looked around with a rising grimace “there's no way Able didn't.” he rubbed his head closing his eyes “no...this isn't okay at all, but wherever I am I'm not ready to wake up yet…” he sat down “so...ill wait till I'm ready to wake up…” and there he sat, playing with grass and blossoms, gradually beginning to sense the dull aches drawing him nearer to awareness. “Did you hear that? I think he said something” “He's just breathing Plant boy, dead people don’t breathe so be glad he's at least doing that.” The scavenger muttered, putting on tea in her warn down tiny shack of a house, everything compressed to two rooms and dawning two windows with a skylight. She sat by the old wood stove, watching Elliot with narrowed eyes, bandaged, surrounded by warm embers with blankets stacked up, a few poorly put together tubes attached him to a DIY iv. Bandages wrapped around his chest and arms “the frostbites pretty bad, if he doesn't pull through in the next week I'm pulling the plug.” “no, no-no. I’ll pay you” she raised an eyebrow “with what? You’re a nobody” “you’re a mechanic right?” “scaven-gggg you know what, yeah sure I'm a mechanic.” “we’ll, I could help you out with your shop” “pfff. What shop.” “We could..make one?” “I'm not making a shop to keep your brain-dead brother alive.” “then don't do it for him, do it because you want to! and ...also because I really need your help…” “fine~ but like I said. If it doesn't work in one week, he's out. And so are you” Able let out a relieved sigh, sinking back “This is doable” “PFFT. hah. Sure.” She sat back, pouring tea into a can, and handing it to Able “calm before the storm I guess. Sip up” “no rest for the wicked…” “yeah whatever, so like, do we steam this vegetable or how do you hydrate it” “I could just stick his hand in some water and as long as he gets light he’ll be ok” “Your plants are so...weird. And kind of impressive, if I got cut and just needed some sunshine that’d be-but you plants are usually stuck up so nevermind~” “not all..” “said all.” “point taken, do you have any paper I could use? I have some ideas for your shop” “Already?” “my brother's life is on the line, I’ll be working at this until we get your shop up and flourishing.” “you don’t want to investigate how you got out there?” “what I don’t know can't hurt me, right now is what's important, and right now he’s losing time the less I work” “ok ok desperado.” she scoffed, handing him some paper and a charcoal pencil “thank you…” “uhuh.” she eyed him as he worked, sketching out blueprints and floor plans, signs and locations, he seemed to have a good idea on her inventory “I keep a keen eye out on everything...well...I feel like it's a habit anyways…”

“is mind-reading also one?” Able bellowed out a deep, gentle laugh. “ I try not to do it too much” Her eyes widened “Ok ok not really, we can't read minds, I don’t think so anyway” “let’s hope not. For your sake.” Able moved Elliot's palm into a little dish of water, and opened a window over him, kissing his brow and heading outside to start demonstrating his ideas to the Scavenger, her back and front yard consisted of a junkyard that Able was determined to organize, build and prepare for selling spare parts and presenting his trash to treasures vehicle repair service. Their distant voices brought a tiny smirk to Elliot's lips, sitting in this dull dark pain, listening to his brother work, so long as Able was in earshot, Elliot could count on him...and focus on this long patient recovery...hours of sitting, unable to even open his eyes. It was pure torture. But so long as he had Ables voice to guide him...He knew he could pull through on top.

#Author #Writer #Story #OC #Writing #AIP #Elliot #Able #fairytale

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pinknerdpanda · 8 years ago

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Unexpected

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam

Word Count: 2209

Warnings: Fluff, drinking, mentions of sexy times

A/N: This was written for @kas-not-cas’s 2.5K Dialogue Challenge. Congrats on hitting such a great milestone! My prompt is bolded below.

A/N 2: Thank you to my betas @hannahindie and @wheresthekillswitch. I love you muchness! Also thanks to @canonspngifs for the gif - you all do such a great job of keeping everything nice and organized!

Tags are at the bottom. If you would like to be added to my forever tags, please send me an ASK.

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! :)

Unexpected

Now

There are a lot of things that you have come to expect while hunting with the Winchesters. For example, you can pretty much guarantee that there will be a lot of running. Running from bloodthirsty vamps; from the local badge who have just discovered that ‘Agents Lennon, McCartney and Starr’ don’t actually work for the FBI; from Dean when you accidentally forget that Baby was in drive instead of reverse before stomping the gas.

Also, you can expect to eat some of the greasiest, most deliciously sinful cheeseburgers known to man and that, usually, pie will follow close behind. There’s always a good chance that the cute, available waitress behind the counter will catch Dean’s eye, and certainly vice-versa. And you know that when you settle up the bill, Sam will be thrown the keys and a wink from his older brother, leaving the two of you to head back to the hotel room without his company.

Some things, like listening to the same worn out copy of Led Zeppelin IV from the backseat while Dean steers the Impala down dark, nearly deserted highways, Sam snoring softly from the front seat, are like comforting little family traditions that make you feel warm and safe. Hell, at this point, you can basically count on there being an Apocalyptic catastrophe on the horizon about every year or so.

But, of course life with the Winchesters is full of variables too. Sometimes the monster you are hunting ends up being something altogether worse than you could have anticipated. Then there’s the thing with Charlie; well, none of you could have imagined that, and not a day goes by that you don’t miss your sweet friend.

However, there are some things that you couldn’t make up if you’d tried, and today - or last night, rather - is one of those days.

—-

As you wake to the sound of a knock against the window, you squint into the harsh sunlight, dazed and disoriented. Your mouth is dry and tastes like ass, and your head feels like it has been run over a half dozen times with a zamboni.

The knock sounds again, and you cringe. Your back is too warm and there is something heavy on your waist. Shifting uncomfortably, you try to sit up, that’s when your hand hits skin. The heavy thing - an arm, apparently - tightens around your waist. You freeze. Who the fuck am I spooning with?

“Y/n?” Sam’s muffled voice sounds like a loudspeaker has been placed right up against the car window. Wait, car window?

You glance around, frantically trying to recall what car you’re in, how you came to be in it, and with whom. The seat you are laying on is long and covered in leather, and something about it seems far too familiar. A loud snore sounds in your ear just before you spy a piece of grey and black plaid fabric draped, haphazardly, across the front seat. Fuck me.

—–

Last night

“OK, well, when in Rome,” Dean stands. “The next round is on Mr. Arnie Franzoni.” He smiles broadly, winking while flashing his most recently obtained fake credit card before heading back toward the bar.

“That’s not…that doesn’t even make sense, Dean!” Sam shouts at his brother’s back, smiling and shaking his head before turning his attention to you. “He’s an idiot.”

“So, you really don’t like clowns, huh?” You laugh, taking a swig of your beer. Sam shakes his head anxiously. “I can’t say I really blame you Sammy. Creepy as fuck.”

“Fresh beer and a round of shots for everyone.” Dean sets down the bottles carefully and distributes the shot glasses before taking his seat again. “To ganking as many evil sons-a-bitches as we can!” You all raise your glasses and nod before tipping them back and swallowing their entire contents, slamming them back down in unison.

If this had been your first or second round of shots, you would have winced, trying not to gag at the burn as it slid down your throat. This was, however, your fourth round and you were beginning to feel the warmth in your belly as the alcohol wove its way through your bloodstream.

Sam stood, pulling his jacket off of the back of his chair, before slipping his long arms through the sleeves.

“Oh come on, Sammy! Stay awhile!” Dean goaded his brother.

“Can’t.” Sam quirks an eyebrow, one corner of his mouth turning up in a cocky grin, accenting his dimples. “Meeting someone.”

“What? You have a date?!” You gape happily for your tall friend, throwing your hands up over your head in excitement. Probably a bigger reaction than necessary; thanks alcohol.

“And you never said?” Dean’s eyebrows crease in mock astonishment. “Who’s the lucky lady, Sam? Is it the librarian from earlier, the one who was giving you the eye?”

Sam’s cheeks redden slightly and he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah it is.” Dean’s face lights up with pride. “She was hot and I bet she’s pretty kinky. Don’t let those thick glasses and bun fool you! You go get her, tiger!” Dean shouts as Sam turns, heading toward the door. “Make sure you pick a safe word!”

Sam turns around, lifting his middle finger in Dean’s direction, before opening the door and stepping outside. Dean chuckles and takes a pull from his beer. You can’t help but notice the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows the cold drink, or how perfectly his plush lips mold around the bottle. Not only do you notice, you stare. He lowers the bottle, his tongue darting out to lap at the few drops of liquid from his lips, before pressing them together.

“You know…” He starts and stops as he looks at you, your eyes wide and your lips slightly parted. A wicked smile crosses his face, but he doesn’t say anything. You look away instantly, the warmth in your cheeks having little to do with the copious amounts of alcohol in your system now.

Dean clears his throat before looking away and hiding his smile behind another sip from his drink. You reach for yours, careful not to look at him again. Damn him and his damn sexy mouth.

—–

Now

“Dean.” Your throat is raw and your voice is raspy as you whisper-shout. His arm loosens slightly as you try to sit up. “Dean!” He shifts and you feel that at least one part of him is awake. Shaking your head, you tap his arm.

He releases your waist, groaning loudly. The sound is both highly erotic and louder than you can handle at the moment. You grimace, peering down the length of your body to make sure your dress was pulled down, covering your lady bits.

Sam knocks on the window again. Dean slides to the other end of the bench, making enough room for you to sit upright. You put your face as close to the glass as you can, looking up into Sam’s hazel eyes and frowning.

“Sam, I love you, dude. But if you keep doing that I will break your fingers.”

Sam’s eyes widen and he flattens his hand across his eyes to see inside the car.

“Is that…Dean?” Sam’s face twists into an expression mirroring your own internal monologue; confusion, disbelief and shock.

“Yes. Go away now, Sam.”

Sam backs slowly away from the car before disappearing from view. You rub your eyes harshly, desperate for any excuse to not have to look over at Dean. The memories of the night before are fuzzy at best, and you aren’t sure if you’re more upset that you may have slept with your best friend, or that you were too drunk to remember if you had.

“Morning, beautiful.” The low, throaty rumble of Dean’s sleep-thickened voice sends a shiver down your spine as it reverberates off of the doors. It takes several beats of silence for you to register that he is speaking to you. Who else would he be talking to, dumbass.

You take a deep breath before finding the courage to look at him. “Dammit Dean.” You shake your head in frustration.

“What?” He’s confused. And really, you can’t blame him.

“It’s just…” you glance sideways at him, swallowing thickly. “Of course you wake up, looking hot as fuck despite the fact that we drank our combined weight in beer and whiskey last night. While I’m riding the hot-mess-express over here; hair’s a wreck, bags under my eyes and makeup probably smeared…”

Your words are cut off as Dean’s perfect, pink lips press to yours. You pull away, covering your mouth self-consciously. Morning breath is not exactly sexy, not to mention hungover morning breath.

“I said, ‘Good morning, beautiful.’ and I meant it.” His eyes shimmer like emeralds in the morning sun. You sigh, not wanting to argue.

“What happened last night? I guess we…” you gesture vaguely between the two of you questioningly. Dean grins wildly, his eyes crinkling mischievously.

“You don’t remember?” His lips push out in a satisfied pout. You shake your head. “Hm. I could tell you. Or, I could make you suffer.” You punch him in the arm and he flinches, rubbing the spot although you’re sure you didn’t actually hurt him.

“I swear to god, Winchester…”

“OK ok…you didn’t let me finish. OR…” Dean overemphasizes the word. “Or…I could take you to dinner and we can discuss it in detail.” He wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis. “You know I am not one to kiss and tell.” You roll your eyes. “What? Come on. We can get all dressed up, go to one of those fancy places, order off the wine menu…”

“That’s it!” You announce suddenly, bending down and digging under the seat blindly with one hand. “That’s what I need right now.”

“Do…Do we need wine?” Dean’s face draws up in confusion, but at least appears to be enjoying the view down your dress from this angle.

“No, I need wine, you need to put your pants back on.” Your hand hits cool glass and you close your fingers around it and pull it out triumphantly. “Aha!” Dean’s face is still contorted.

“I have so many questions right now. First, what? And also, huh? Where did that bottle of wine come from?”

“Remember that hunt last month, the one with the bees?” Dean nods slowly. “The beekeeper gave me a bottle before we left, as a thank you. I guess he makes it himself. I remember leaving it in the car after we got back to the bunker and never got it back out.” You inspect the neck of the bottle, thankful to find there is no cork, just a screw top seal.

“And you are opening a bottle of wine at,” he glances at his watch, “9:30 in the morning, after complaining of a raging hangover because…?”

“Oh come on, Dean. Hair of the dog? My granny always said the fastest way to cure a hangover was with more alcohol.” You smile, tipping the bottle back and swallowing a mouthful. You hand the bottle to Dean and frown. “Much drier than I expected.”

“OK you never answered my question,” Dean remarked before screwing the lid back on the bottle.

“Yeah, well, you never answered mine,” you mutter.

“Yes.” Dean’s rough voice catches you off guard, and you are surprised to see the heat coming from his eyes.

“Yes?”

“Yes. We did…” he gestures between you, copying your movements from before.

“Oh god.” You put your head in your hands. There was little evidence to support any competing theory, given the fact that your underwear were still sitting on the floor next to your foot. But to have the confirmation was mortifying. “Dean, I’m so sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry for, princess?” his hand lands on your bare knee, the weight of it making your stomach flutter. “I have wanted you for a while now. And you were just as amazing as I’d hoped you would be.”

“What do you mean, you’ve wanted it for a while? What about all the waitresses and barflys?”

“I was afraid if I told you, I would eventually say the wrong thing and screw it up. I was afraid you would end up leaving.” Dean’s gaze is pleading.

“If there is anything I have learned, it is to expect the unexpected, Dean. None of us are here forever. Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it.” You smile at Dean, placing your hand over his.

“Did you just ‘Ferris Bueller’ me?” he chuckles. You nod once before your face falls. “What’s the matter?”

“I am just so pissed I can’t remember any of last night!” Shaking one fist in frustration, you grumble unhappily.

“Sweetheart, just call me ESPN, because I specialize in instant replays.”

Groaning, you roll your eyes, trying to hide the grin on your face. He grabs your hips, lifting and twisting you so you are straddling his lap. His kiss is deep and fiery, and you moan into his mouth. He captures your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling slightly before releasing it.

“And I can promise, you won’t forget anything this time.”

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ellebeebee · 8 years ago

Text

I decided to backtrack a little and write one of the things on my long and neglected to-do list: the marriage between Sabine and the baron, how it progressed and ended. Uuhm, I hope my tinkering the timeline/the way I structured the later parts isn’t too confusing. :) Various other characters make appearances.

6484 words, Baron of Namaire/Revaire!MC, Zarad/Revaire!MC, teen

Four Years and Seven Months

“Thank you, that will be all,” Victoire said.

The handful of maids fussing with the few parcels they’d brought from the Guyenne estate looked up. Two hat boxes and a steamer trunk that if opened would only be half-packed with gowns and dresses leaning towards unfitness for the station of a baroness. A few other boxes. One jewelry case with some of the better pieces Lady Guyenne had been willing to impart to her eldest daughter. It was a good thing the baron had already purchased a new wardrobe for his bride, along with new furnishings, jewelry. A horse the baroness would probably seldom ride. He’d commissioned a new formal garden with a delicate little garden house perfect for tea; it would be finished within the month.

It was good insight for him to make all these preparations. If Sabine and Victoire had come to the Namaire estate with only their little battered cases, it would have incurred the derision of the staff. And in fact they seemed to be doing just that now, with the way the handful of maids were glancing up at Victoire and back to each other.

Sabine turned from the window. She cleared her throat and pointedly arched a brow.

The girls murmured their acquiescence and quietly filed out.

When the door clipped behind them, Sabine looked up at Victoire for a long pause. The arched bow dropped and tightness pulled in around her lips. She exhaled. And she looked far more her seventeen years.

“Thank god,” Sabine murmured, letting herself lean into the window frame.

Victoire advanced on her and gestured with her fingers. “Come. You should rest.”

She groaned, but straightened anyway and turned around.

Victoire unpinned the veil (blue for the girl’s vivid blue eyes) from the back of her hair, tutting. “Really. We sent the things ahead of us. These girls should have had everything put away hours ago.”

Sabine just hummed. The lands rolled away from the estate in pleasant green swells and dips, lightly touched by a tepid, cloud-filtered noon light. The morning had been brighter, with yellow sunlight flooding the small chapel where they’d had the ceremony. Close family and friends only. The baron’s neighbors, a minor noble gentleman and his wife, had attended on his side. Lord and Lady Guyenne and the oldest son, Chretien, had sat for Sabine. It had been small and quiet.

Fingers moving with mechanical swiftness, Victoire unlaced the simple dress the girl had worn, and deposited her of corset and skirts. At the mother-of-pearl inlaid vanity, they unpinned her hair.

Victoire glanced up at her in the mirror. “Are you worried?”

Sabine slid a finger around a curl, twirling it. “About tonight? No.”

Victoire pulled away a set of braids and began unraveling them. Her pale fingers stood stark against dark curls. She remained quiet. It wasn’t in her nature to push for more details; Sabine didn’t expect it and had no compunctions about going on if that was her desire.

“I’ve heard too many of my mother’s stories to be worried about that,” Sabine said, closely inspecting the end of a mahogany lock.

Victoire said nothing, and kept working. When her charge was left in a simple shift that bared tawny, chestnut legs and her hair streamed over round shoulders, Victoire stood and went to draw back the silken blankets from the bed.

Bare feet padding quietly, Sabine crossed the parquet for the enormous and elaborately-carved bureau. It opened to a line of jacquard, damask, chiffon, and great swathes of silk embroidery and beading. She put out a hand and ran it through the dresses. Humming (poorly), her fingers plucked at the different materials, feeling the whisper slide of the silks and the heft of the fine woolens. She moved on to the other cabinet beside it, to the furs. The beautiful, beautiful furs. She sank her palms into the softness.

Sabine closed the cabinet doors. “Do you think I made the right choice?”

“You should rest,” Victoire said. She paused before the pile of their cases. “I’ll have a bath readied for you before dinner.”

Sabine wandered to the sitting area before the empty fireplace; delicately fluted cherrywood and pearled upholstery. She ran a finger over the curved back of the settee.

“I’m not tired, really,” she said.

Victoire popped open the trunk. She leaned back and put her hands to her hips as she considered the contents, most on the verge of being threadbare. It would probably be best to just throw it all out. She glanced up.

“Sabine,” she sighed.

She stood looking up at one of the many paintings in the room: a picturesque Corvali gardenscape.

“There’s no point in regrets now,” Victoire stated. “We have work to do.”

The baroness finally turned back to her.

They’d spent a year getting here. Bribing some shepherd boys to throw rocks under the carriage of the relative of a neighbor of the baron’s, these people being old friends of the Guyenne family. Old enough friends that, should they be laid up in a local inn and coincidentally run into Lady Guyenne and her daughter, they would be obliged to renew their friendship. Thus, a few dinners, an introduction to the Baron of Namaire, and several more dinners and teas and hunts later-- and etcetera and etcetera.

And now-- now that they could afford to dump that sad trunk’s contents into the fireplace and be done with it. Now with all of those fine gowns the girl could at least begin to look the part even if she didn’t feel it. The rest would follow. Look, even now Sabine had something like confidence in her gaze.

She nodded.

“I know,” Sabine said.

She finally went to the bed, and Victoire drew the curtains, already making a mental tally of what needed to be kept from the old life.

Four Years and Six Months

“I simply don’t see the point,” Sabine said.

She leaned into the elbow she had planted on the breakfast table and idly twirled a small spoon about the porcelain walls of her teacup, making random little chimes. Before her spread plates of fresh fruit, bread and cheese, and hard-boiled eggs in their little stands. Across from her sat the baron.

Enzo IV of Namaire’s long frame fit the delicate gazebo furniture with surprising elegance, and his hands manipulated his teacup with surprising grace. Surprising if only on account of his unmistakeable height and spareness in dress and in personal manner. His tailor cut his jackets and waistcoats with clean lines, always in blacks and grays. His pale gray eyes matched the peppering in his trim beard and hair, their blackness offset by his tanned calf’s leather skin. With a sharp click, he put down the cup in his hand.

He considered her. “You don’t see the point of learning how not to sound like the farmer’s daughter at formal dinners.”

She stared back, lips stiff. “That’s pleasant. Quite pleasant of you.”

“You also don’t see the point of sharpening that wit rather than relying on that pout?”

“My pout serves me quite well,” she said, her spine curling self-consciously. “And nothing about Madame Illais or Ser Grenbarrow would ever sharpen a thing of mine.”

He sipped at his tea. Sabine gazed at him for a long time as the silence between them lengthened. The garden around them still held slightly raw edges, with vegetation not quite settled in and nervously holding their boughs apart from one another. As if the damask roses and adolescent wisteria were a party of ladies not yet on good acquaintances. Warm morning light staved off chilly dew, but heat would set in later.

Namaire removed the napkin from his lap and tossed it onto the table. He stood, gesturing to her.

“Come. You’ve been tardy to your economics lesson enough.”

She threw her own napkin down.

“Oh, very well,” she said, taking his arm.

The waiting staff at the perimeter of the gazebo descended upon their breakfast table to whip it clean as the baron and baroness stepped out onto the path back towards the house.

“If you really want me to attend to an economics lesson,” she went on. “You could give me the household books instead. Much more useful, no?”

Her voice attempted a playful lilt.

His gaze slid toward her. “I have told you already. That is not your concern.”

“It’s my right as your wife.”

They stopped in the middle of path, the clicking of their heels silencing. He swiveled toward her.

“Is that as far as your ambition goes, Sabine?”

“What--”

“Tallying up bags of sugar and cabbages, handing out payroll?”

She tilted her chin up at him.

He sighed. “You’re not creating convoluted schemes to keep all your creditors in the dark about each other here.”

Her jaw tightened. “You are not a gentleman.”

“And you are not a lady. Not yet. The house will take care of itself. In the meantime, you ought to listen to my counsel.”

With the hand she had tucked into his arm, he nudged her back along their path. She followed with a small huff.

“Fine,” she stated.

Four Years and Two Months

The blue-emerald silk of Sabine’s train disappeared up into the shadows of the carriage’s interior, and the baron followed after. As the coachman called out and the team pulled them all into a lurching start, Namaire plucked his own hat off, leaving it beside him on the plush bench. He pushed open the small carriage windows on either side. Spilt from the slowly sinking sun, rosey evening light and breezes crept into the tight confines of the vehicle.

Namaire leaned back into his cushions and sighed. “I told you to stay. Comtois would have brought you back.”

“And suffer the gossip? For once you shock me.”

“I’m far too old and rich to care for what the gossips say of me.”

“That’s all very well, but what of myself?”

“You? You are far pretty and young and quite securely married to worry about your reputation.”

Across from him, she choked a bit, hand flying up to her long, tawny neck. She stared at him.

“What?” he demanded.

“You really aren’t feeling well, are you? You just called me pretty.”

He exhaled and turned to the rolling streets outside their carriage window.

“You needn’t look so vexed about it,” she stated. She half-stood, careful of the vehicle’s sway, and moved the black silk hat over to her vacated seat so that she might take its place. “Be assured. I never trust men that pay too many compliments or too few.”

She slipped a gloved hand under the hand he had resting on his knee. Namaire glanced at her. They inspected each other: her full brow cocked playfully, the sweat she could now see on closer inspection at his temple, the play of pinkish shadows across her smooth skin, the thickness of his eyelids. Deliberately, he squeezed her fingers once before removing her hand to her own lap.

“Comtois is a good influence on you,” he said over the surprise in her expression.

She considered him before leaning back into her corner. “Is he?”

The lanterns and tall, pike-like tools of the street lamp lighters whisked by the open windows. Inexplicably, he could smell pine resin and fir trees. Like the winter he spent in the Arlish countryside, riding about with the freezing air burning his nostrils. So many seasons ago.

“We’ll leave for the summer house before the week’s end,” he said. “The heat will soon be intolerable. Take in the shade and the cool air about the lake for a month and come back to town for the season’s close.”

“Very well. I suppose everyone else will be gone soon, too.”

“And I want you to take up a project.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh?”

“There’s a parcel of land adjacent to ours that I’ve left alone for too long. I want you do something with it.”

“‘Something’?”

“Something. Find a tenant or sell it or whatever you can think of. Figure it out. Ask Comtois for help if you like.”

She watched the unrelenting placidity and severity of his expression. Her fingers sought out her little tasseled pouch and loosened the drawstring, pulling out a handkerchief. Despite the unrelenting placidity and severity of his expression, she leaned forward to dab at his temple. The heat was indeed beginning to linger overlong into twilight now that summer waxed full.

“Very well,” Sabine said.

He leaned away. “What is this?”

“A handkerchief, lordship. Quite clearly-- a handkerchief.”

Three Years and Ten Months

After the coolness of the hall, her room’s warmth enveloped him, seeped into the chilled crannies of his woolen outer layers. With the wave of warmth rolling over him came the scent of dried lavender and shepherd’s purse, several bundles of which hung along the mantle with silky ribbons. The fire in the grate leapt and billowed. The parquet floors shone with a dark murkiness, like a pond at night. The furniture was polished, the curtains and velvety upholstery kept free from dust and cobwebs.

Everything was in its place, and was quite as it should be.

The far away clocks deeper in the house rang the midday hour. Her maid, the strange pale one, was not in the room. He approached the four post bed. A pot of yarrow root tea steamed on the bedside table. An empty teacup, more dried lavender, a jug of water resting in an ice bath. He sat on the edge of the bed, and he felt eyes on the back of his neck.

“My lord.”

Sabine looked up at him. She’d woken. Maybe before he walked in, maybe shortly after.

As she shifted to sit up, moving slowly, he reached for the teapot and poured out a cup. He handed it to her, and she accepted with the saucer carefully balanced in her fingers. Their eyes met.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

She turned the cup around in languid circles. “Better than yesterday.”

He nodded. The silence between them grew. His bones itched with restlessness; he hadn’t gone on his morning ride, the same ride he’d taken since he’d turned eleven and his own father had brought him along to cover the hills and gullies their blood knew by instinct. He’d missed plenty of these rides before. Being away for the social season, traveling, illness. But as the years went by it was harder and harder to recover from their absence. As if his momentum became more and more permanent the older he got; his ability for malleability slowly crumbling away.

“Sabine,” he said. He reached out and took one of her hands. “I’ve made a mistake.”

She didn’t say anything. Her warm fingers held his, long, slender fingers-- not even the shadows of callouses lingered under her hands, the traces of the world she’d come from.

“It was a mistake…” he trailed off, his focus going elsewhere. “It needs to be let go. This idea of an heir.”

Her eyes sharpened. “But you… you have no male relatives.”

“I know. Everything will go to you when I die.”

“You-- you just… So what, one misfortune, and you want to give up?”

“It’s not important. I assure you, you will be taken care of.”

“My mother was pregnant twelve times, you know. She had nine children. These things happen.”

“I’m aware. Sabine.”

She paused at his tone. Then she exhaled and shook her head. “So what? You-- alone, without consideration for what others want-- You make the decision and that is the end of the matter?”

He leaned forward to catch and hold her gaze. “I’m sorry. All of this is my fault. You can blame me. I’m sorry.”

She sank back into her feathered cushions, jaw setting.

“For so long, I’ve done what was right. What was necessary,” he sighed. “What was expected of me and my name. But I’m tired.”

He studied her, framed by her dark curls and white linens.

“If it’s a child you want, you can… do as you like. I won’t say anything. I’ll accept it. But it can’t be me.”

“That’s not what I want.”

“What do you want?”

Her lips pressed thin. She put aside the teacup. “I don’t know. I… I don’t know. Just-- yesterday, now this…”

The door opened.

“Beg your pardon, your lordship.”

The strange pale maid, Victoire, stopped in the doorway with a kitchen girl holding a tray standing behind her. Namaire stood.

Sabine tightened her hold on his hand. “Wait.”

He looked back.

Her eyes searched over him. “Is this about your first wife?”

He gave her fingers one last squeeze before bending down to ghost a kiss on her forehead.

“Eat and rest,” he told her, already moving away. “I’ll check on you again later.”

Three Years and Nine Months

She pulled the fur collar of her coat closer. The staff cleaned the room regularly, but not near as often as the rooms actually in use. Blues and pinks from last light painted the objects of the chamber, crawling up the tall empty vaults and over the chill floors. It had not gotten to the point where all things fabric and vulnerable had to be moved elsewhere or covered in case of weevils, dust mites. White shirts and dark jackets and well-used riding habits filled the wardrobes. A pair of oiled riding boots sat by the door, the chestnut leather dull in the blue light, a riding crop leaning against them as if waiting for their owner. Pile of books with places marked.

The desk still had the remains of correspondence littered across it. An open inkwell had dried up with a quill sitting in it. The fireplace was empty.

Over the mantle hung a beautiful cityscape of the old Revairan capital flooded with golden light. An interesting choice. Where most hung their prized portraits, he had chosen a painting of a place that had never existed. At least not in that manner.

There were portraits, of course. Elsewhere in the room. Here, a depiction of the young man who figured in another painting, down in the major library. This one was a few years younger, but it was clearly the same man. The tanned skin, like the underside of leather. The sharp grey eyes. The full and dark hair.

If not for the curl of a smile and the glitter of laughter in his eyes-- clearly comfortable features for the lines of his face-- the man could well be her husband, some decades ago.

She looked away. Various other descendents of the Namaire name gazed down at her from the walls. Some of the lords and ladies stood out as family members by way of marriage, but they all became assimilated into the same expressions and coloring eventually. Would some day come when she herself peered down from a wall, just one out of many other Namaires?

She crossed to the desk. Over the smooth mahogany curls of the desk’s back, a woman’s portrait hung, washed in the demure colors of a winter’s day close. The curtains were already open. She knew Namaire came in here sometimes.

The woman in the painting was older. A few pale lines trailed through her hair which she hadn’t bothered to dye. Or saw no need to. She wasn’t beautiful. But what use was beauty? Sabine’s mother was beautiful, she herself was beautiful, but look where that had gotten them. Either stupid and useless or unhappy and with an unattractive temperament.

She sighed.

“I miss my mother,” she told the empty room.

After some time, she left for the warmer parts of the house.

Years Afterward

“Ah, I see now,” Sabine said with hauteur, the effect a little ruined by the twitch of her lips. “I thought you two invited me to tea for the pleasure of my company. Rather, you wanted to use me for advice.”

Penelope’s jaw dropped, her eyes widening in horror. Cordelia caught on, but still squirmed with being teased, trying not giggle. Giggling-- how it would ruin her dignity.

“Oh, no, of course not!” Penelope said. “I’m always eager to spend time with you-- oh, please don’t think--”

Sabine cut her off and patted her hand. “I’m only joking, dear. And thank you. I’m also always eager for your company. Both of you, dear pets.”

Cordelia considered her with her serious, dark eyes. “If it is too forward of us to ask…”

“No, not at all. Hmm. Well, things as they are-- and we three being so fortunate as to have the choices we do-- I can’t say that one should be stubborn about hoping for some idealized romance. A relationship like marriage takes a great deal of work, and that may be the more important element than any initial infatuation.”

Cordelia nodded. Penelope’s eyes wavered with uncertainty.

Sabine continued. “I would consider any woman fortunate to be permitted the sort of freedom and understanding my husband gave me. We spent the seasons in town where I met many lovely people and made many valuable contacts. Winters on the estate were a bit dull, I suppose, but occasionally we did have friends spends a few weeks with us. I was afforded my own portion of wealth to do with as I pleased. I wasn’t always successful, but I did learn a great deal.”

She sipped at her tea. “All in all, I was fortunate indeed. Respect and space are the better parts of a good marriage between nobility.”

Eight Months

“My lady?”

Sabine rotated her neck to inspect another angle to her face. She pointed out a minuscule smudge in her eye makeup to Victoire.

“Yes?” she called to the door.

It opened a fraction. A maid dipped a knee and straightened.

“His Lordship wishes to call.”

Sabine did her best to keep her face muscles slack for Victoire’s brushes as she answered. “Let him in.”

The door clicked and a chair was moved near her vanity.

“Good evening, my lord,” Sabine said.

“Good evening.”

Victoire finished, moving aside and curtsying to the baron. He placed a wooden box of deep grain into her lap.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Happy Birthday, wife.”

She raised a brow at him. “Really? You actually sound a bit cheerful.”

“I’m not always a decrepit shell of despondency.”

She balanced the box on her palm, feeling its weight. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I’ve been merely adequate in my gifts for the last few years. I think I’m overdue. Open it.”

He handed her a little key and she unlocked the intricately inlaid lid of the box. Emerald velvet lined its interior and the necklace form sitting inside. The necklace itself sparkled; a broad choker of diamonds arranged in a flowering pattern. Worn, it would fall from where the neck met jaw down to the clavicle.

Her finger grazed over the fine-cut stones, and she struggled to find her words. “I… I doubt even the queen has something so…”

“Careful. You’re showing quite a bit of your vanity. But you’ve always been weak to shiny things.”

Her eyes cut to him in annoyance. He merely gestured to Victoire, who lifted Sabine’s hair and pinned it quickly. She pulled the necklace from the box with care and enclosed Sabine’s neck with it.

“Well,” she said, looking into the mirror. “Thank you.”

Namaire nodded. He unfolded from his seat, patted her on the shoulder, and departed the room. Some arrangement downstairs probably called him, or some other task for the evening’s host.

Sabine turned her jaw about in the mirror, watching herself and her angles. Victoire worked to redo her hair to suit the new present. Their eyes met in the reflection.

“Don’t say a thing,” Sabine told her.

“I haven’t said a word,” she said flatly.

Years Afterward

“--and that is the story of my greatest failure as a woman of noble consequence.”

She giggled, the one hand she had free from Zarad’s arm flying up to her face. It took her a moment to realize his laugh was more of a weak chuckle. Turning down another nondescript hedge row of the garden maze, she peered up at him.

“What?”

He quickly smiled. “Nothing.”

“Really,” she said.

He stopped walking. His fingers grazed his chin as his eyes slid away. She felt a turn in her stomach; his nerves made her nervous, but at the same time she felt a flush of pride that he was showing his nerves at all to her. She knew quite well that he wouldn’t be like this if they weren’t alone.

He sighed. “I shouldn’t really…”

“Well, I’m too curious now. You might as well just say it.”

He paused, still with that lingering half-smile. “You… you still call him ‘his lordship’.”

“Oh. And… and that bothers you?”

“No! I mean,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

She studied him. The silence between them stretched.

She shifted. “I’m glad you did, but I don’t know what to say. It’s not…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself. I’m sorry.”

“I…” she shook her head. “Look, I’m late to an invitation. Let’s talk about this later.”

“Of course.”

Five Months

In late spring, while they were preparing to leave the estate for town and the social season, he began taking a long siesta on the conservatory’s settee every morning after his rides. An unfamiliar pain had seeped into his back at some point. Teas and unguents did little. Staying home instead of enduring the journey to the capital and the following balls, luncheons, and events tempted him.

He went along anyway, silently perusing a book with his baroness across from him. In town, few raised a brow when Sabine floated about the usual scenes and social circles without him; he had always been averse to excessive company and tiresome conversation.

As the heat of summer rolled down through the valleys into the streets, Sabine left to visit for a fortnight with a friend who’d just had a child. It was early to already be making the migration to the summer homes, but Namaire departed some days after she did for the cooler airs off the lake.

She returned from her visit during a sunny afternoon. Her heels echoed before her approach down the hall outside of the small dining room where he was sitting at a light lunch with the broad wall of patio doors propped open.

“...will be here next week, so please send for more fruit and make sure cook has plenty of pastries ready. And I think we should go ahead and have a pig slaughtered. You mentioned the bacon was low?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And go through all the guest rooms and replace all the old linens-- there you are--”

She swept into the room and to the table, dipping into a quick curtsey. But she stopped a few steps from him. He looked up from his paper.

“You’re back from Odille, then?” he asked. “...What?”

She looked away as a servant pulled a chair for her. She sat and waved away the girl about to put down a place setting for her, as well as all the others in the room. He raised a brow.

She leaned toward him. “Have you lost weight?”

He slapped down his paper and frowned.

“Has no one mentioned anything?” she said, eyeing his plate of picked over food. “You don’t look well.”

“I…” He wasn’t sure what to say. Since her departure he’d only had the company of the summer home servants who were far too leery of him to ever make a comment of a personal nature.

“We’re sending for a physician,” she said.

In the three days it took for a runner to reach the capital and a doctor to make the trip out to the summer house, he fell under a feverish weakness. Tinctures and teas and unguents were provided and the resultant rise and fall of his fever sent him in a whirl of numbingly chill days and scorching sweat-soaked nights. His temperature broke after a week. Sabine had canceled the hosting plans they’d had and checked on him often. At least, he assumed that’s what she did. The majority of times he woke she was beside him.

Although the fever broke, an insistent fatigue plagued him, left him bedridden and unable to stomach much food. The physician stayed on. A good thing as the fever resurfaced. A cycle of inflamed wasting away and tepid recoveries lasted for weeks. When it finally looked as though he was on a definite recovery, Sabine made the arrangements for a slow and careful return to the Namaire estate.

He told her he’d go on alone; she should attend the last events of the season in town.

“No point,” she said. “Anyone worth seeing is long gone. I much more fancy a rest at home. Maybe I’ll actually improve on my embroidery. Or my pianoforte playing.”

She was lying. She was a terrible liar, and never had the perseverance to really become more than proficient at any lady’s skill.

“Your skills include having good taste in dresses and being a good drinker.”

She patted his knee across the carriage. “That’s the spirit.”

A Fortnight Afterward

Victoire paused in the south hall. At the hall’s end, where it created a junction with another hall, two maids passed. Aimee and Lan. Glancing behind her, Victoire reached down and slipped off her shoes with their tapping heels. She backtracked on her stockings to a door she’d passed. Sabine had requested to take tea in the green parlor, and Aimee and Lan would have been the ones sent to clean it. Victoire had the feeling this was an opportunity.

She cut a silent path through empty rooms to the reading room just adjacent to the green parlor, and placed her ear near the corner where a window’s frame met the other wall. It was the best spot to hear into the parlor.

“...don’t see the point. She’ll just go back to using the gazebo or the east drawing room.”

“Well, when you’re the richest woman in the district, I guess you can decide where tea gets served.”

“Not if I have to murd--”

“Shhh. Are you out of your mind?”

“What? It’s just you and me.”

A long pause. Victoire leaned even harder against the corner.

“...just doesn’t make sense, though. For three years they use separate bedrooms, he gets sick, makes a recovery, they suddenly rekindle the-- the-- romance--”

Giggling.

“And he just, bam, kicks it?”

“...It is strange.”

“You know it is. Not to mention, I mean--” The maid’s voice lowered to a lurid hiss. “She, ‘wakes up’ and he’s just dead?”

“I know. I can’t imagine how...”

“It’s more convenient, isn’t it? All of those friends of hers. Having him out of the way, she can do as she pleases.”

“Right? That Comtois man doesn’t look like he’s in a hurry to leave.”

“Still. The baron wasn’t completely himself. Not really recovered.”

“...Recovered enough, apparently.”

More giggling.

Victoire pushed away from the corner. She padded across to the door, exited out into the hall. In front of the green parlor’s door, she dropped her shoes to the floor noisily. With deliberate care, she nudged them with her feet so that she could slip back into them as the parlor’s door swept open. The two maids, wide-eyed, stared out at her.

Victoire glanced at them. “How strange. I was just thinking of taking a stroll, and here my shoes have traipsed off without me. Lucky thing I caught them.”

“Miss…”

“Quite lucky. Who knows where they could have gotten to.”

She swiveled on her heel, feeling their eyes glued to her back as she walked away.

As a child, the adults would say: such a serious boy, he’ll make a good lord one day. His father passed early, and his mother and grandmother ran the estate until he came into his majority. He never attended university. Never cared much for lessons. He regretted that later. The knowledge itself wasn’t hard to come by later. But it took him more time to create connections, which his personality did not help.

But that’s not what he wanted for Alain, decades later. That’s why he sent him to the best schools. Sent him on a tour of all the nations after school. Arranged a spectacular match for him. For all the good it did.

Stupid boy. Getting himself gutted on some scumbag’s blade.

He’d had him too late in life. Things had become harder and harder to recover from. He would dream of the sugared, bitter smell of unripened grapes and the hunched form of his grandmother on her horse. Her black silhouette against the sun and the shadow of the vineyard’s lattices. The way his father’s breath misted before his long beard during those rides. His wife’s hands, un-young and showing slackness in the skin.

His first wife. Alain’s mother.

He wondered sometimes, if he reached that other place and he met her there, what would she say? What a good lord he’d made that day, when he lost Alain.

He’d been a good landlord, he’d known. He’d protected the estates, all their wealth. The heritage of his name. His ancestors could blame him for nothing. Except for leaving the line to die.

He’d tried. But the years had slipped from him, and things had become harder and harder to recover from.

He had regrets, but it seemed inconsequential in the face of time.

The only thing, really, was her. But the girl would be fine. He was sure of it.

Some Hours Afterward

She slipped awake slowly, resisting all along the way. It had become such a habit: curling around her sleep possessively until half the day was spent. And better still, since she was usually free to fling her limbs in empty space, that he lingered for once.

Good. If he had changed his mind, then he could at least afford this as well.

Eyes struggling, she exhaled and shifted. Her head and hand rested on his chest. A gap in the curtains behind her cast a long line of sunlight over the blanket. Her fingers flexed, clenching and splaying across the fineness of his shirt.

She sat up, on instinct. But her instinct, her mind, moved sluggishly and could not prod her body into urgency.

She stared. The cold of his skin pulled at her, at her warmth. Her own movements dizzied her, in relation to his stillness. Her hand reached forward.

“My lord.”

She called for help. Or she heard herself call for help.

The following days blurred.

Years Afterward

She slipped awake slowly, urging herself onward. Her subconscious self. Or part of it, or some form of it, or perhaps not that at all and it was just residual animal instinct that made her grasp for lucidity as if she were drowning and the undertow had its fangs in her. Had she been dreaming within the form of a mermaid, fleeing the pursuit of some terror of the deep? Something Victoire would say.

Her flesh abhorred cold.

“Are you awake?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Are you alright? You were murmuring…”

She raised her fingers to her eyes, shifting her cheek on his chest. It was very nearly overwarm, but she pressed closer. Closer to the rhythm of his heart’s beat, the vibration transferred through touch.

“I’m sorry. I know that’s your special purview.”

“Oh?”

“Talking my ear off even here.”

He combed through her loose curls, a steady counter-beat to the heart in her ear. The sheer curtains about the bed filtered moonlight in the emeralds and indigos and purples of its elaborate pattern. How much more rare and precious a gift-- the trains and ribbons of the moon, when its appearance was so transient in comparison to the sun, and so stark when beset upon by the night’s darkness. Heady scents of the sea filled the room.

“I don’t know if you want to hear it,” she finally said.

This was untrue. She did know he would hear it, would want to hear anything that she needed to say. But a warning seemed necessary, or at least a buffer for herself.

“Sabine,” Zarad said.

She sighed. “It’s Namaire.”

“Go on.”

“A few months before, he got sick. But god knows if he was hiding pain or something before that. After a few weeks of physicians and medicine and humors, it seemed he’d recovered. And then.”

The immense murmur of the ocean mixed with the sound of their pulses.

“It’s not something I’ve ever told someone,” she said. “It’s not-- I think he knew what was going to happen. Somehow. Not that there was intention, or anything. I think he had a feeling. You hear things like that, don’t you? That people can feel it when the time’s… As if you start to waver here, and the oscillations sink to your bones.

“For years… we used separate rooms. Lived largely separate lives. But those last days, I think he needed an affirmation. That he was living, that he existed. So he… needed me… I guess. It’s hard to think about. To remember. Because it seemed like he was drowning and nothing I could do would help him.”

She continued. “I thought…”

“You thought…?”

He sounded just as uncertain as her, just as much treading on a thin shear of ice.

“I don’t know. He’d lived a full life long before we met. I only knew him for four years. Even if you know someone their whole life, you’ll never know everything. I have no doubt I knew so very little. But-- those last days--”

She rolled over and covered her face.

“I’d wake up and feel like a completely different person in the light of day. And then the nights swept in and the dark changed everything-- I don’t know. I felt that I knew him. At least in those moments. I was never in love with him. But still. It was amazing and frightening to see how fragile a person could be.”

He shifted, and she could feel him hovering with his fingers going to her hair again. “And that morning?”

She removed her hands. “As about as bad as you’d imagine… I’m glad you wake before me.”

“I’m not going to leave you, you know.”

“Good. Despite what the rumors say, I don’t fancy making a career of this widow business.”

In the face of her poor attempt at a blithe tone, he pulled her close and told her he loved her. And told her again. Created a mantra of it, crooned her to sleep again to I love you I love you. Everything else was like those long ago nights; profound and ephemeral but ultimately not as dear and near and real as this. She much preferred a sharper moon that saw her clearly and stayed with her in their travel across sleep’s dream-dark sky.

#7kpp #fanfiction #revaire!mc #zarad #penelope #cordelia #my writing #sabine #it's been a while since i've posted something serious #aha...#don't get me wrong i like writing #but sometimes i hate how guilty i feel when im not really working on anything #and then i feel bad bc the best way to keep writing and to improve #is to /actually/ write #yknow #:////#blegh

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no2da · 8 years ago

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@epaetaeya thaaank you for tagging me i love these games!!! (so many questions, so many ppl to tag... eh ↓ i dont even know 20 ppl)

Rules: Answer these 92 statements and tag 20 people

THE LAST:

1. Drink: cheapo cola right this moment 2. Phone call: my mom, on my birthday, when i was hanging over the toilet 3. Text message: 17 new ones in a groupchat i have yet to read.............. 4. Song you listened to: are you satisfied by marina and the diamonds.. :^) 5. Time you cried: ?? no idea. im so genki and i got the memory of a goldfish

HAVE YOU:

6. Dated someone twice: ...... no 7. Kissed someone and regretted it: YES 8. Been cheated on: i dont think so 9. Lost someone special: lost in like, they died, or lost contact. cause i lost contact to many ppl who were important to me, but i dont think anyone close to me died yet 10. Been depressed: all the focking time m8 11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: only once from cheap ass japo vodka

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS:

12-14: YELLOW, COBALT BLUE, emerald green

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU:

15. Made new friends: YES I LOVE YOU GUYS (HI) 16. Fallen out of love: i guess so, ive overcome a heartbreak 17. Laughed until you cried: probably, idk, i laugh a lot, and often until it hurts 18. Found out someone was talking about you: everyone talks about me :p 19. Met someone who changed you: i think i change a bit all the time, and of course my friends make a Postive influence on me <3 from getting out of the clinic last year in spring, to now, im in no way the same person 20. Found out who your friends are: i dont even know what this means ...

GENERAL:

22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: all except 1 but not like i actually use facebook 23. Do you have any pets: my two kitty babies i miss them so much 24. Do you want to change your name: im fine i think 25. What did you do for your last Birthday: it was only a couple weeks ago!! we went downtown with friends and ate cake and i also died cause of a headache so bad i almost vomited 26. What time did you wake up: around 6 but i got up at 8 27. What were you doing at midnight last night: 漢字を勉強した 28. Name something you can’t wait for: see my kitties again ;;;;;;;;;; 29. When was the last time you saw your mom: in april?? spring break 30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: my face lmao

31. What are you listening right now: my neighbors weird music

32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: lol i think not? 33. Something that is getting on your nerves: a lot. most of all not being able to pet a cat right now 34. Most visited Website: (((((tumblr actually))) 35. Mole/s: yes. everywhere 36. Mark/s: i dont know..... 37. Childhood dream: marine biologist..... i used to dream of deep sea creatures and listening to whales 38. Haircolor: naturally its a fucking ugly blond but i dye it black cause im emo 39. Long or short hair: *burp* short 40. Do you have a crush on someone: my boyfriend i guess????? 41. What do you like about yourself: my curiosity in science 42. Piercings: no im too scared of bodymods 43. Bloodtype: ill find out soon :3c 44. Nickname: edi? 45. Relationship status: t-t-t-t-taken 46. Zodiac: cancer 47. Pronouns: its an it 48. Favorite TV Show: no watchy tv 49. Tattoos: someday maybe 50. Right or left hand: right.. 51. Surgery: not that i know of, my insides are untouched........ 52. Hair dyed in different color: had the blue hair once. remember? 53. Sport: i wanna but the depression. also im a körperklaus. volleyball is a lot of fun 54. (question wasn’t here) ???? ill just leave holly’s text here.. mysterious 55. Vacation: my friend took me to italy and croatia with her once but, nowhere else. i would love to travel 56. Pair of trainers: ? own a pair of nikes and new balance but i only ever wear my converse..

MORE GENERAL:

57. Eating: i just finished the bag of chips i wanted to save as ‘’’study snack’’’’ 58. Drinking: cola 59. I’m about to: not do the dishes for another week 62. Want: to draw........ 63. Get married: idk. its not a dream ive had but i guess if im older and have someone i love 64. Career: stay in uni forever, keep learning all the different things, do research and field work, escape the harsh reality of capitalist work machine :^)

WHICH IS BETTER

65. Hugs or kisses: HUGS, KISSING ISNT THAT GREAT 66. Lips or eyes: eyes, dark eyes, nice and warm 67. Shorter or taller: short, same height as me 68. Older or younger: my age preferably?? 70. Nice arms or nice stomach: pudding stomach and arms are nice too 71. Sensitive or loud: sensitive cause im the loud one 72. Hook up or relationship: relationship, im too touch-repulsed to do hook-ups 73. Troublemaker or hesitant: i dont know ;;;;

HAVE YOU EVER:

74. Kissed a Stranger: yea was bad 75. Drank hard liquor: ;) 76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: nop 77. Turned someone down: Yeaa 78. Sex on the first date: NO 79. Broken someone’s heart: i sure hope i did. 80. Had your heart broken: yeah, my fault 81. Been arrested: no my friends are too law abiding and im shy 82. Cried when someone died: no one ever dies 83. Fallen for a friend: bro of course

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

84. Yourself: who 85. Miracles: are aliens miracles? yes. 86. Love at first sight: nop. its not possible, infatuation at first sight yeah 87. Santa Claus: no. corporate invention 88. Kiss on the first date: Noo

OTHER:

90. Current best friend name: Everyone Is My Best Friend 91. Eye color: brown;; 92. Favorite movie: dont know actually... i think a ghibli movie probably, cant decide

now lets tag.... @emergencybattle @awkwardcorner @kattekoor @ravenflawuniverse idk this are a lot of questions i hope i dont bother you guys

#don't mind edi

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thickasthievesrpg-hidden · 8 years ago

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WELCOME TO THE HEIST, NIC!

YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF ALESSIA CAPECCHI

A note from Admin Risa: Alessia has always ruled my heart, just as she rules Palermo - explosive, ruthless, and calculatory - she is in every way her father’s daughter. I was so, so delighted to see all these traits and more reflected in your app, Nic! Your writing captured her in her finest and worst moments; providing depth and ambition to a woman who the world sees as untouchable. I know for certain that you’ll bring her role to great heights, and can’t wait to see you two on the dash! Congratulations on your acceptance! You’ve been to the museums, the banks, the isolated manors with their black dogs and gilded keys. You’ve stolen their necklaces, their jewels, the prized heirlooms in their vaults and their safes. They’ll watch out for you. Please visit the after acceptance page and submit your account within the next 24 hours – we’re excited to have you with us!

I. INTRODUCTION

Name/Alias + Pronouns:

Nic – she/her

Age:

Timezone + Activity

EST. & I was unfollowed for a lack of activity but I’m hoping it could be forgiven. I had been in the hospital for a few days and struggled to make up all of the work I missed – it was a nightmare. Without even realizing, I failed to give the main a heads up about my absence. But now that things have come to a lull and my life isn’t as hectic as it once was, I’d give my availability a solid 7-8/10.

I. BASICS

Desired Role:

Alessia Lucetta Capecchi.

Analysis:

nickname: Lessia or Les. When Niccolo and Alessia were at each other’s throats, quite literally, a nickname was somehow permanently scripted on the walls with scarlet liquid. With his hands around her neck and a maniacal smile plastered on the cusps of their lips, Niccolo stared and then whispered, in the sweetest and biting of tones, “I love you, Lessia”. From that day forward, the name just stuck. But when Niccolo passed and Alessia’s flame was put out, she swore she’d put the nickname to rest – and she’d slit the neck of anyone who spoke of it.

sexuality/romantic preference — Alessia identifies as heterosexual. It’s always been about men and her ability to conquer their prying thoughts and tainted curiosity. She’s attracted to them, has slept with many and feasts on the thought of them needing her, fangs protruding and claws out. But when she realized that her manipulative ways proved to be effective on the opposite sex, she didn’t mind dabbling in women. It was all about control and destroying, anyhow – she would never love them.

birthdate — October 31st, 1988.

birthplace/hometown — Palermo, Sicily.

occupation — Alessia is the proprietor of the Slaughterhouse – also recognized as the Castello di Vitale. While it is known that crime runs through the heart of the building, it has held its fair share of extravagant galas, exclusive dinners and events – all arranged and coordinated by Alessia herself.

criminal occupation — When the lights dim and faint hearts disintegrate into Palermo’s air, Alessia is no longer a host of the Castello di Vitale. She is known to be the caporegime of the Sicilian mafia, which is considered the second highest rank in the crime family. Her father’s right-hand woman, Alessia controls and assists a clan of soldiers who report back to her, so that she is able to outline details for Alejandro Herraro. While she does have an important role in the mafia, Alessia’s main origin of work comes from packaging, sealing and distributing cocaine, meth and heroine across the globe. She hasn’t been in the heist for long, but she’s been deservingly given the titles of partner-in-crime and coordinator. Alessia is known for ridding of flaws and fuck-ups in all heist excursions, plans and ideas.

Four Characteristics:

( + ) Organized, ( + ) Tactical, ( - ) Sadistic, ( - ): Manipulative

Expansion:

Charles Villiers – Such a misunderstood man, with a serpent tongue and rigid edges. Rough lips, even rougher fingertips. He’s difficult to read and Alessia swore she’d never try to understand him. He was cold, condescending and conniving. And though those were qualities that held her attention captive, she could never think of loving him. Their relationship was nothing more than a business deal – a meaningless fling. He was all but a pawn in this sick, twisted game she conjured up. When she knew he was more than willing to play without acknowledging the rules, she continued with her fangs tucked away. But when they shed blood and Charles was aware of her intentions, he nearly spit on her and she half-smiled. From business partners, to almost-lovers, to near strangers, things were truly never settled and Alessia was never forgiven. But now that Niccolo is dead and Charles has stepped back into her line of vision, Alessia wonders if she’ll ever taste the expensive whiskey on his tongue again. While he’s looking at the distribution routes they’ve drawn up, she’s gaping at him.

Artemesia Cipriani – Young, beautiful and clever but a complete and utter threat to Alessia’s name and past love life. She could’ve been Alessia’s little prodigy, perhaps even a friend. But when Alessia began to notice the way she looked at Niccolo and questioned the woman’s tainted intentions, there was no room for her on Capecchi grounds. “You’ll be working with Charles in London.” She stated matter of fact, the soles of her eyes piercing through little Miss. Cipriani. But when Artemesia opened her mouth to protest Hell’s greatest sinner, Alessia raised a hand and threatened in a fraud, saccharine tone, “No questions. You leave tomorrow”. Though Niccolo is no longer alive, Alessia keeps a cautious eye on the brunette. She has no reason to trust her and she’s not sure she’ll keep her alive much longer.

II. WRITING

Para Sample(s):

“I want these packed, sealed and distributed to London. No later than Friday. Are we understood?” Alessia’s neck is craned to scan the figures that stood before her, eyes sharp and mouth twisted. They nodded in unison but that would simply not do. “Speak when spoken to. I’ve asked you all a question. So I’ll repeat myself – are we understood?”

“Si, Signorina Alessia.” They spoke simultaneously, almost too rapidly, voices broad and clear, eyes trained on the demanding presence that invaded with no apology.

She turned her nose up in an authoritative manner, all while acknowledging their quick wits and intelligent behavior. She was a wolf in Valentino clothing, after all – she would be respected. “Good. Now, Luca, get Charles Villiers on the phone. There’s some things I’d like to discuss with him.”

“Alessia! Alessia!”

Eyes darted, hands stopped in motion – the room fell silent. The voice was familiar. Thick Sicilian accent, tinges of broken English – a Capecchi.

Alessia glanced in their direction, crescent nails digging into the flesh of her palm – deep enough to draw blood. She did not take interruptions lightly – she would treat this no different.

Ah, little Santino. He stood there soaked and teary-eyed, mouth agape and hands trembling. But Alessia paid no mind to his body language – there was no time.

“Santino, whatever it may be – I’m sure it could wait.” I’ll slit your neck if you interrupt me again.

“No, Alessia – it’s,” He was breathing hard, gasping for air, as if all of the oxygen had been drained from his surroundings.

“Form fucking sentences, fratello.” Her fangs no longer hid behind pouted lips – they were out and ready to draw blood.

“Niccolo. Niccolo is… he’s,”

“Niccolo is what, Santino?” She growled, her hands gripping the fabric of his shirt and pulling him forward.

But before he could form a syllable, Niccolo was being hauled in by four soldiers – her soldiers, bloody and lifeless – stained and gone.

She released Santino at once.

She felt the claws of loss dig in. Shattering ribs to pull it out. Taking record. It was the kind of hurt someone gave into. It was the kind of hurt that turned sinners into greater sinners.

The kind of hurt that made someone chaotic. Unrespectable. And she couldn’t have that.

So she shut it off. She swallowed. Hands trembling. Eyes dry.

She turned away – walking in quick strides. Santino’s voice was calling out to her, but became so distant.

Red.

All she saw was red.

Someone grasped her shoulder as she reached for her blade and she turns, eyes no longer seeing red but seeing black – she’s quick and ready to kill. The tip of the blade is pointed at the suspect’s neck – but the suspect is Luca.

She sighs, retracts from pushing any further – then grips him hard. Without even a thought, she kisses him – hungry and hurt. In pain and destroyed.

And when she shoves him backwards, she gapes at him with blood-stained irises.

“Find them.”

III. FREESTYLE/EXTRA

HEADCANONS:

i. Alessia sometimes wears the ring that she and Niccolo traded while exchanging their vows – but she’ll never put it on her ring finger. It sits on her right pinky and no one is bold enough to question the reason behind it.

ii. Though Alessia needs to be on her toes at all times, it doesn’t quite stop her from dabbling in the drugs she produces and sells. Yes, she needs to make sure her product is marketable but it helps to numb most of the bullshit that comes with being caporegime of the Sicilian mafia. It’s been kept at a minimum for now but Alessia is finding it more and more tasteful.

iii. The blade she keeps attached to her thigh at all times was engraved and given to her by Niccolo. It reads, “I’ll love you forever, princessia”.

iv. Alessia has an extremely small tattoo of Niccolo’s initials on the side of her left hip – it’s the same leg that straps the blade he gave to her.

v. Once the heist locates Hope diamonds and Cleopatra’s emeralds, Alessia plans on keeping them for herself and disappearing without a trace. It’s a salute to her fallen soldier and no ones going to stop her.

#accepted #accepted: alessia

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eddiejpoplar · 8 years ago

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Our Four Seasons 2016 Fiat 500X Gets Freaky and Laps Road America

BROOKFIELD, Wisconsin — Bobb Rayner gets to the crux of what makes Fiat freaks Fiat freaks well into his presentation at the national club’s awards ceremony Saturday night. And he does so by repeating a quote by Automobile founder David E. Davis Jr. every year at the Fiat Freakout, held this time around in metropolitan Milwaukee.

“The Germans invented the automobile. The Americans made it a dispensable product. The Italians taught it how to dance and sing.”

Can our Four Seasons 2016 Fiat 500X Trekking Plus live up to that standard? What if it dances like Elaine Benes on “Seinfeld”?

Flashback to two days earlier: I pull our orange 500X into the Sheraton Hotel Brookfield parking lot to a section cordoned off for club members’ Fiats, Alfa Romeos, and Lancias. There are more Bertone-designed Fiat X1/9s here, running the full original-to-modified spectrum, than you might have thought survived. There are nearly as many 124 Spiders, mostly the 1966 to Malcolm Bricklin mid-’80s imports, a couple of new Fiat 124 Spider Abarths, and a Barchetta brought in from Canada. Some random Lancias and Alfa Romeos. A couple of 600s, a boxy sedan or two from the ’70s, and a 1971 Zastava AR-55, a preternatural Fiat Chrysler based off the Jeep-like Fiat 1101. Probably half the lot is filled by the new generation of Fiats, especially 500s and 500 Abarths, plus two other 500Xs, one 500L, and an Alfa Romeo Giulia.

Tim Beeble, in the lab coat, left his ’74 Fiat 124 Spider at home and instead drove his green 500X from Connecticut. But he will not be our long-termer’s toughest competitor.

With no organized events this Thursday evening, just a few club members hang around. One asks, “How do you like your 500X?” The question comes up again Friday for the drive to Elkhart Lake and Road America and on Saturday morning at the Concorso. I reply with something close to, “I like the way it handles. Not crazy about the powertrain.”

Drizzle the next day forces some of the 124 Spider drivers to raise their soft tops before we reach Elkhart Lake in the afternoon so we can retrace most of the original public- road race circuit. Then it’s on to Road America for three laps before sundown.

“We’re only going to go 40, 50 mph,” our Road America pace-car driver, Bill, tells us at the drivers’ meeting. “Enjoy the scenery.”

We enter the circuit somewhere in the middle of the pack, persistent drizzle keeping the road slick. I slow down and speed up for Jessica Walker in the passenger seat. She is taking photos of other Fiats on the track. My nephew and budding car guy Jeffery Dziadulewicz is having the time of his 17 years in back, even with the enforced slow, offline pace. On this hilly, wooded 4-mile racetrack, “America’s Nürburgring,” we might not see either of the two Corvette pace cars assigned to us after the first corner. Even with 78 Fiats, Lancias, and Alfas on the track, there’s room to spread out between the two 500s behind us and the 500 and X1/9 ahead of us.

“Too slow!” Paul Perger exclaims after we finish our laps. He brought his 500 Sport, modified for autocrossing, up from Lewis Center, Ohio.

Eric Fredricks of Davenport, Iowa, went “off on the grass” with his often autocrossed 500 Abarth, “and I just got back on. There were cheers from the infield.”

On Saturday morning we arrive for the Fiat Freakout Concorso at Milwaukee’s Mitchell Park Conservatory, known colloquially as The Domes, thanks to three half-spherical glass greenhouses. Although I’m a new Fiat Club of America member, I haven’t spent much time meeting the organization’s muckety-mucks, which speaks to its casual attitude. Somewhere along the way, I shake hands with the club’s president, John Montgomery, who’s about to step down after 17 years.

Although some of the autocrossers in the Fiat Club of America wanted to go much faster, a speed limit of 50 mph or so on the spectacular 4-mile Road America circuit was plenty for most cars.

Club secretary and board member Tim Beeble is one of my two competitors in the 500X class, having driven his Verde Bosco Perla 2016 500X from Connecticut instead of his ’74 124 Spider (with 154,000 miles on the odo). On this sunny summer Saturday morning in the beer capital of the world, he’s wearing a white engineer’s lab coat and helping to usher cars into The Domes’ northeast lot. I have to pull our 500X out of formation to let in more traditional Fiats showing up later.

Pep Stojanovic’s 1971 Zastava 101 was restored in Serbia. The interior needed just a minor refurbishment. “It smells like Yugoslavia in there,” he says.

Will it hurt our chances for first place if we’re parked out of formation? What about the trim cap covering our car’s rear window wiper arm bolt that has been missing since before I drove it east from El Segundo, California?

I give my nephew a nickel tour of the Italian cars gathered, and the budding car guy quickly becomes a budding Fiat guy. He gravitates to the X1/9s, though he peeks under raised hoods and asks about every model.

I find the Concorso’s single rear-engine 500, a 1960 model. But it has oddly bulging, nonoriginal headlamps. “I’ve had lots of Italian cars,” says Frank Nezrick, a physicist from St. Charles, Illinois, while standing next to his other Concorso entry, a 1960 Fiat Abarth 750 Zagato “Double Bubble.” The bulge-headlamp 500 has a better story.

“Franklin Roosevelt’s son brought it in for his race team,” Nezrick says. The feds told him its factory headlamps were too low for U.S. specifications, so the little car would either have to go back to Italy or face the crusher. “I don’t care if your father is president,” a bureaucrat had added sarcastically.

Alfa Romeos and Lancias are also invited to join the Fiat Club, including Dale Gordon’s award-winning, 25,000-mile 1977 Lancia Scorpion.

Dale Gordon, an anesthesiologist from Libertyville, Illinois, lobbies for my People’s Choice vote as I approach his 1977 Lancia Scorpion.

“One of 387 of the 1977 models sold in the U.S., 1,755-cc engine,” he says. “First flush windshield, only 1,801 made in 1976 and ’77. It’s got 25,000 miles. I’ve never opened the [targa-style] roof. I’m afraid to.”

A couple of boxy malaise-era Fiats actually are Soviet-era models built under license that belong to Pep Stojanovic, who runs commiecars.com. His 1971 Zastava 101, essentially a Fiat 128 hatchback, was restored in Serbia. The interior needed just a minor refurbishment.

“It smells like Yugoslavia in there,” he says.

Michael Louviere drives his ’52 Topolino around town and on dirt roads in Anamosa, Iowa. He proves a keen observer of the Fiat community, so I ask him whether X1/9 and 124 Spider owners ever switch sides.

“It’s not unheard of, but it’s typical for people to be in one of the two categories,” Louviere says. “Spider guys sometimes dabble in X1/9s. X1/9 people typically don’t go to Spiders.”

Spider fan Laura Ives has never switched. She bought her 1972 Fiat 124 ragtop in 1973.

“It was between an MG, because my family is British, and a Fiat,” she says, sitting between her husband, Richard, and me at the Fiat Freakout Awards Banquet Saturday at the Sheraton Brookfield. “The Fiat gearbox was easier than the MG’s. I loved it.”

From left, winners of second, first, and third place in the 500X class line up. Below, Fiat Club co-founder Bobb Rayner says, “Buy a car, get an award.” And we do.

The Ives couple, from Mississauga, Ontario, Canada, joined the Fiat Club of America in 2001 in order to attend their first Freakout in Grand Island, New York. Metro Milwaukee marks their fourth such event. Ives rejects the Italian brand’s reputation for poor reliability.

“As the car gets older, it’s good to meet other people trying to source parts,” she says. “I guess I’m lucky. The hardest parts to find are 13-inch tires.”

The Fiat Club of America is Eastern U.S.-centric, with most members living on that side of the Mississippi River or in Ontario or Quebec. Bobb Rayner, the awards ceremony emcee, co-founded the club with Dwight Varnes in Hagerstown, Maryland, in 1982, reacting to Fiat and Alfa Romeo’s impending withdrawal from the U.S. market.

Rayner, a presenter on home shopping channel QVC, gets to the heart of an enthusiast brand that’s within reach of virtually any driver.

“We don’t care how shiny and fast and expensive your car is.”

This warms my cold auto journo heart. It might be a cliché or even a stereotype, but it’s clear even from commodity products such as Fiat that Italy’s efficient, modern auto industry thrives with a workforce that knows how to take a good lunch break. Likewise, the Fiat Club of America draws sociable people who know how to throw a party more than they care about how to perfectly restore a car.

With that, the Fiat Club awards seven individuals and 53 of the 124 cars entered in the 2017 Concorso.

Ives’ ’72 takes second place among the 1966-’74 124 Spiders, Louviere’s patinated Topolino gets the Most Challenged award, Stojanovic’s Zastava 101 wins the Fiat Del Mondo class, and Gordon’s Scorpion takes first in the Fiat/Lancia Sport class. The Car I’d Most Like to Drive Home is Mark Rowan’s 1967 Fiat Dino coupe, and the People’s Choice for Best of Show goes to Nezrick’s Zagato “Double Bubble.”

In the Fiat 500X category—“Buy a car, get an award,” Rayner quips—Bryan Reiners of Hartford, Wisconsin, takes first with his tastefully decaled white XUV, Beeble’s emerald green car gets second, and Automobile’s Arancio Four Seasons car is awarded third. Ours proved shiny, though neither fast nor expensive. I should have replaced that wiper arm cap.

Our 2016 Fiat 500X Trekking

MILES TO DATE 21,748 PRICE $26,230/$27,730 (base/as tested) ENGINE 2.4L SOHC 16-valve I-4/180 hp @ 6,400 rpm, 175 lb-ft @ 3,900 rpm TRANSMISSION 9-speed automatic LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, AWD SUV EPA MILEAGE 21/30 mpg (city/hwy) L x W x H: 168.2 x 75.5 x 63.7 in WHEELBASE 101.2 in WEIGHT 3,292 lb 0-60 MPH 9.8 sec TOP SPEED N/A

IFTTT

#IFTTT #Performance Junk Blogger 6

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jonathanbelloblog · 8 years ago