#could be coming down here to do some research on her growing abilities or to try interrogating her about the other nephilim's whereabouts

[where-is-caithe]

Does anybody wanna read the 6 pages of Eon's backstory I've written down? No? Yeah you do, here goes.

No one is gonna come after me for inaccurate Fractal lore. You're not gonna say anything about inaccurate Fractal lore.

-

Eon is an Ash Legion charr who never knew their parents and started out as a pretty basic thief. Their specialty was smoke and invisibility, disorienting and blinding enemies and sneaking in for the kill. As they grew up, their magic abilities grew and it became obvious from other charr that they have some relation to a Flame Legion smoke shaman, starting with their talent for smoke and thief magic and showing in the horns growing from their shoulders. It never really bothered them, they always thought the horns on their shoulders were kind of cool, and while knowing that how they looked would probably prevent them from climbing ranks, they were content taking orders. 

In the early years, they were the picture-perfect soldier, not questioning anything and following orders perfectly. Their warband, the Shear warband, consisted of Maverick, Dinky, Clawspur, Euryale, Reeva, and Howl, their Legionnaire. The seven of them were tight-knit like any warband, and each would defend the others with their lives. They were a good warband, and right out of the fahrar they proved their worth in a seek and kill mission in Fireheart Rise, deep in Flame Legion territory. They were a trusted ‘band, often getting orders straight from Malice, instead of a Tribune. Within a few years of being out of the fahrar, they were one of the top warbands of the Ash Legion, and Howl had been promoted to Centurion. Put simply, the Shear warband is to Malice, what Ryland’s Steel warband is to Bangar.

Eon had a good relationship with each member of their warband, they were family after all, but their most trusted friend was Maverick, who they would spend a lot of time sparring and joking around with, they both had terrific egos and always thought the other was the worse fighter/sidekick. Maverick, Eon, Reeva, Dinky and Howl would spend a lot of time sparring together during downtime. Clawspur and Eon were both thieves, and they would both train each other by sneaking up on the other, as well as sitting together in silence. They were the two who would sneak the warband into places, taking turns throwing invisibility spells and smoke. Eon would also use their stealth to sneak up on and bother Euryale, teasing her and getting her temper flaring, it was good practice to dodge an elementalist. Joking and butting heads (literally) with Reeva was another pastime of theirs. 

Sometime between 1320 and 1325, the Shear warband was given new orders to investigate an intriguing new discovery that Ash Legion spies had heard about, the Fractals of the Mists. It was currently an ongoing investigation and the Ash Legion was curious to see how it could benefit the Legions, whether this discovery could be a new training ground or something similar. The operation had been planned months in advance, and the goal was to be the defense team for a group of asura researchers venturing into the Fractals and uncover what their potential is. It was a pretty standard set-up, a protection mission that doubled as espionage, and their cover was a Blood Legion warband. Once they reached the research team in Lion’s Arch, Howl did all of the talking and the operation had a smooth start. It was only once the team had entered through an unstable portal in Fort Mariner that it went to shit.

The group consisted of ten asura, a small golem with equipment, and the warband of seven charr. It was a pretty large group, but the warband was confident and trusted in their Imperator’s intel. The intel turned out to be slightly flawed, as they were under the impression that there had been multiple excursions already into the Fractals and there was a base currently set up. This was not the case, it turned out that there had only been one or two krewes sent in and neither had made it back out. The base as well was still in the early stages of development, meaning they didn’t even have a stable means to get to it and hadn’t begun construction. This was all revealed during the first Fractal they stumbled into.

Howl led the team through the entrance portal and immediately into a firefight. He was killed before anyone knew what was happening. It was a dark cavern swarming with Destroyers, a Fractal of an Asuran underground city being overrun. Ignoring their fallen Legionnaire, the warband fought off the Destroyers and retreated into a tunnel, away from the main cavern and away from the remnants of the lost asura city. Two of the researchers were killed during the fight, and with the warband at six members, their group was down to fourteen and a golem.

Out of the fighting for the moment, the asura revealed a bit more detail on the Fractals. From the data collected from previous krewes (posthumously), it was believed that to leave a Fractal, you had to “stabilize” it, playing out what was happening by continuing a fight, ending it, or resolving whatever the Fractal was doing. The original plan was to go into a Fractal and leave it by this method while taking as many readings as possible using the equipment brought by the researchers stored in the golem. Technically still the plan, but with less people. Had to see the bigger picture.

With no time to mourn, the warband unanimously gave leadership to Maverick, and his first command was to follow the directions of the asura krewe, complete the Fractal, and get the hell out.

The rest of the Fractal went fine, now that they knew what was going on, but the completion of it did not let them out. Transported to another time, another place, the group felt any hope they held of leaving die with the comrades they left in the Asuran city.

The only way was forward. None of them knew how long it had been, no one knew if it was over months, days, or even years that they were trapped there. Sometimes the Fractals would be fought easily, they would finish one and be sent straight into another, and sometimes they wouldn’t be sent to another. Occasionally they would be trapped in one Fractal for days. With every completion, it would restart. There were bad ones. Losses.

Reeva was the next of the warband to die. As they were retreating away from a swarm of Grawl, shielded by Dinky’s guardian magic, Reeva sacrificed herself to distract them. She was never seen again, and Euryale was never the same.

In a particularly bad Fractal, one that pushed the warband to their limits, they lost more than half of the remaining asura, the golem, as well as Clawspur, Euryale, and Dinky. The enemy was a creature from the depths of the Jade Sea, something none of them had ever even heard of before, and its attacks went right through Dinky’s shield as he tried desperately to protect his comrades. Only Maverick and Eon remained after that, and they both did their best to keep each other afloat while mourning their brothers and sisters, and protect their charges.

It was like that for weeks. Maverick and Eon leading the asura team through Fractal after Fractal, hoping they would somehow be sent back home through one of them. Neither of them slept much during this time, and food was scarce, they scavenged whatever they could find in the Fractals and packed bags with any food they could carry. Sometimes they’d be in a Fractal with plenty of resources, and they would make the decision to stay for a while, until they were attacked again and had to fight their way through it.

During this time, Eon’s abilities were evolving. Possibly due to their exposure to the unstable magics around them, but it wasn’t affecting Maverick as much, despite him improving his fighting style as well. Eon began to use mesmer-like magical abilities. Their invisibility was more stable, and as they improved, they began to slightly manipulate time and space. Weaving portals and teleporting, invisibility and summoning weapons, being in this environment was giving them a boost to a magic they’d been born with. It made traversing the Fractals that much easier. Maverick’s new fighting as well, through a bit of training in a Fractal in Elona, he had discovered abilities to counteract magical attacks. They became a good team and they didn’t lose anyone for a long time because of it.

In a Fractal fighting against humans in Ascalon, Eon was splashed across the face with hot oil, Maverick dragged them away screaming while two of the asura watched their backs. One of them didn’t make it, but the other helped wrap the wound and with Eon blindfolded, the four fought through the Fractal to its completion. For days after that, Eon would be virtually blind, using their sense of smell and touch as well as various illusions and tips from Maverick and the asura. As they healed it became clear that the scar was starting to look like a rift of space. Once it was fully healed, it was much clearer. It worried all of them. There was no way of knowing what was happening to them, but it was obvious the constant exposure to the chaos of the Fractals was affecting them. They’d run across beings within the Fractals that were made entirely of space and all of them secretly wondered if that would eventually be them too.

It was maybe another month, no one really knows, time is strange in the Fractals and they have no real frame of reference, before everything went to shit again.

Maverick was killed, and with him, the remaining asura. There was a demon. That was all Eon knew. They killed it. The Fractal stabilized. Eon picked up their brother’s broken sword as the world changed again and continued alone.

It’s unknown how long they were alone. They stopped keeping track. 

Fractal after Fractal they fought, determined to reach the end of it. To reach home eventually.

They were tired. Their family was dead. Everything they’d ever known was gone. They were trapped and they could never go home. They laid down in a dry cave, holding their brother’s sword close, and they went to sleep.

“He-hello? Are you there?”

Eon’s eyes shot open.

“You’re... an anomaly? You’re not supposed to be in this Fractal. I’ve been studying it for weeks.”

They sat up fully, clutching the sword close, “yes.” Their voice was hoarse and scratchy from lack of use.

“I think I can pull you out. Stand by.”

They felt the familiar feeling of going through a portal, and suddenly they were met with a dark sky full of stars, a rock formation floating in the middle of space, asura lab equipment and golems. The voice they heard called out to them and they looked up to see an asura with large eyes and braided hair.

“How long were you in there?”

Eon wasn’t listening. They saw the pink of a portal shimmering behind her at the edge of the rocky cliffside. They stepped over the asura, not even bothering looking in her direction, let alone answering her question, and they sprinted for the portal. They were faster than the golem that began to chase, and they felt vertigo for a moment as they went through.

They knew they were out the moment their feet hit the cobblestone of Fort Mariner, the unfamiliar smell of Lion’s Arch with the salty breeze and the sound of the low waves lapping against stone, they knew they were out. They fell to the ground on their hands and knees, breathing heavily and shaking, choking on a sob as their vision blurred with tears.

 The feeling of the Mists was gone.

They sat on the shore in Lion’s Arch for hours, sifting through their thoughts. Sifting through what happened. Everything was different now. They felt nothing but rage for the Legions. They felt guilty for being the sole survivor, but they ultimately blamed the Legions. They had to go back and tell them what happened. They didn’t even know how long they’d been gone. The team was supposed to be back in a matter of hours, or days at most. Eon doesn’t even know how long they were in there.

The journey to the Black Citadel was uneventful, but when they reached the Ash Tribune’s office in the Core, the air in the room was thick and silent. Eon knew they looked like hell, but as the sole remaining member of one of the top warbands, they knew they were recognized.

They gave their report to Tribunes Torga and Makk.

They were informed that a few weeks after the warband had departed, they came across more intel about the group they’d been sent with. They were an Inquest asura krewe, not part of the official Lion’s Arch or Consortium team studying how to utilize Fractals. The Inquest were attempting their own way into them for study and experimentation, which is why it went downhill so quickly. They weren’t using the safe channels to go through them, they were cutting corners, and it cost Eon’s entire warband.

Eon left the Black Citadel after this. The Tribunes informed them that it had only been six months since they’d left, and that they would be expecting a full written report and they would be contacting Eon again to do missions for the Legion. They would not be doing that.

They went to the Durmand Priory, needing to be as far away from the Legions as they could be, and wanting to study what had happened to them in the Mists, what their new magic was and to hone their abilities further. The Priory was interested in their experiences and gave them membership. Eon remains a member to this day. (These events cause Eon to skip the levels 10-30 personal story missions and are immediately thrown into the 40+ story missions, leading to them becoming the Commander).

[thewritetofreespeech]

Ahhh!! I'm so happy to see someone that writes for Vanitas!!

Could I request Noé, Olivier and Vanitas with a female toxicologist s/o who weaponizes and is immune to poison?

Noé

“What’s that?”

“Foxglove.” [Y/N] replied at Noé’s question. “It can be used to cause cardiac failure in targets.”

“What’s this?”

“Jimson weed.” She replied as he moved on to a new plant, as she on to tending to another. “It…makes people not act themselves.” Hallucinate. Badly. More of a deterrent than some of her more deadly toxins.

“What’s this?”

“Don’t touch that!”

Noé snapped his hand back when [Y/N] shouted at him. Startled at her outbursts. “I’m sorry. But that’s nightshade.” She came over to brush haunting purple blooms. Like one might stroke a cat. “It’s very deadly, and dangerous. Helena is probably my most vicious girl in here. She only likes me.”

“You named your plants?”

“Don’t you name your pets?”

Noé shrugged and went to look at a less deadly arrangement. “It’s sad in a way that something so beautiful can hurt people.”

“Beautiful things often do.”

He glanced over at [Y/N], and had to agree on that. “Don’t you ever think of using your powers for good? Like making medicine or something, rather than poisons.”

[Y/N] gave a soft, bitter laugh. “There’s no money in medicine. Besides, my…gift is only for ones that bite back, it seems.” Méchante Glycine, or Wicked Wisteria, gave her the ability to expertly grow plants & greenery, but only of the poisonous sort. It also granted her an immunity to them and other poisons as a precautionary note to the wielder.

“Well, I still think they’re pretty. Even if I can’t touch them.”

“I’m sure they appreciate that Noé.” [Y/N] said with a smile. To which he returned.

“Shall we head upstairs for tea?”

“Of course. Just let me wash my hands. Don’t want to accidently get jimson weed cross contaminated in anyone’s tea. Or it would be a very interesting afternoon.” Noé tilted his head in confusion. Not seeming to get the joke.

[Y/N] quickly washed her hands and bid adieu to her garden for the evening. The leaves seeming to rustle back in farewell. Waiting for their master, and to be of use.

Olivier

His boots were heavy on the steps as he headed into the basement towards the research labs. The dark corridor lit only by torches, before it opened up to the shining ward of electric light powering the Chasseurs scientific backbone of weaponry.

“Ms. [Y/N]

“Oh, hello Olivier.” [Y/N] greeted cheerfully. “I’m surprised to see you. Mira isn’t here.”

“I had planned it that way.” He replied. Shuttering a little as he remembered their last encounter. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Certainly not. Just wrapping these up.” She sat the last vial down in the tube tray and put it aside. “It’s a new serum. With this new strength cocktail it should be able to paralyze even the strongest of vampires briefly. Completely incapacitate the weaker ones.”

“Remarkable.” Olivier complimented. Although not looking at the new bluish colored weapon at his disposable. “Your hard work is appreciated Ms. [Y/N]. I know it must be challenging working down here in the dark. With some of your….colleagues.” He mentally shuttered again.

The toxicologist giggled. “They’re not so bad. The science sort are always a little odd. You have to be to make things out of the norm. Then again, the micro-dosing from our own concoctions probably doesn’t help.” It was Olivier’s turn to laugh. If only once.

“Perhaps…you could come out into the field for a time. To get better notes for your research. I would escort you, of course.”

“I fear I would be murder on the battlefield. No pun intended.” [Y/N] replied in response to his offer. “I’m much better with plants and books.”

“Then, perhaps, we could go get some of those.” The paladin was blushing now. Trying to not seem too forward, but not wanting to be too subtle either. He was terrible at these dances.

[Y/N] looked up from her work with a puzzled look. “You want to go out with me?” Olivier’s face took on a stricken look and went quite pale. “Ok.”

He was taken aback by her readily offered reply. Expecting more of a back and forth. Thrust and parry.

“When shall we go? I could use some more nightshade and sodium chlorate. Shall we go tomorrow?”

“I uh…yes. That..should be fine.”

“Great!” [Y/N] said with a bright smile, before returning to her work. “Come by after dinner and we’ll head out. I’ll make sure Mira is busy so she doesn’t catch you.”

“I….thank you. I will….see you tomorrow then.”

The paladin left. Feeling on odd mix of very accomplished, and as if he hadn’t accomplished anything at all. The mission was accomplished at least. Until tomorrow that is.

Vanitas

Vanitas hissed as pain shot up his arm again. Nursing it at his side.

That last curse bearer had been pretty rough on him. Strong for a human body, it was still pretty fragile in comparison to the might of a raging, rouge vampire.

“Here. This will help.” [Y/N] offered as she came into the room with clean towels, and a bottle of clear liquid in an amber jar.

“I don’t want it.”

The woman scrunched her mouth as she sat next to him. “Honestly. For someone who claims to be a ‘doctor’, you’re certainly untrusting of medicines.”

“I’ve had my share of strange brews shoved down my throat for a lifetime. Thanks.”

[Y/N] sighed and went to mending his arm manually. Of course, she knew that. Their experience with the church hadn’t been the same. Dr. Moreau had not been interested in female test subjects charges. Deciding that their bodies would be too naturally frail for the torture strenuous work is experiments allowed. She didn’t receive the physical torture Vanitas did, but the mental torture was still there. Along with his education on anatomy, medicines, and chemicals.

“I would never hurt you Vanitas. It’s just something to take the edge off.”

“I’d rather have a whiskey.” He joked.

“You don’t drink alcohol.” He flinched painfully as [Y/N] dabbed raw alcohol onto his cuts. “I know you don’t trust me. Or why I’m here.”

Vanitas looked up at his physician. Never having said that, but not denying it was true. “I’m not some spy, or malfeasance sent to bring you back to the order. I just want to help. What’s going on….I have no great love for vampires. After what they did to my family. But the more of them that go mad, the more people will be hurt in the end. The enemy of my enemy and all that.”

She tied off the last bandage and stood. “Will you be able to sleep?”

Vanitas still just looked at her. Then took the bottle from her hand and chugged it down. “Now, yeah.” He said before rolling over to lay on his side, in his cloak and all, to go to sleep.

[Y/N] offered him a small smile, then leaned over to give Vanitas a soft kiss on the hair. “Goodnight, No. 69.”

“Goodnight 70.”

[chaotic-super]

The Vampire Woman - Chapter 24

Read it on AO3 here!

Kara is adapting to working again much better than anyone thought she would, even if it is just one measly hour per day she’s been allowed. Her editing skills are coming along nicely and while she wouldn’t say it’s her favourite job, it’s much better than sitting around wishing she could find a way to be useful.

Her recovery is coming along nicely too. She’s finally getting to the point where she feels like she’s returning to normal, that her body is her own again. Her muscles don’t ache from the tiniest amount of exercise, and her energy levels have spiked back up to where they used to be.

That being said, there’s still a long way to go before she feels like herself again. She might be in control of herself better. She might have to fight her way through each passing day anymore but she doesn’t feel like herself. Something about her has fundamentally shifted and it’s not hard to piece together why.

Her physiology has changed so much that it’s a learning experience for her to get back to regular tasks. Even when taking things slow, she’s struggling to pick up on the new abilities and adapt to them accordingly.

It becomes increasingly apparent as the days pass that she’s getting stronger. The initial kick of power she got when she first got her new abilities was just the beginning. The lack of vitamin D affected her right away, and now she’s forced to spend more time than she thought she would be relearning how to do simple things.

The increased strength is the main thing she’s struggling with. Kara knew that she had developed some of the strength vampires possess before but it seems to grow exponentially as the days pass. She’s still nowhere near as strong as Lena but is much stronger than the average person. There is a pile of broken household objects in the corner of the living room to prove it.

The speed isn’t as much of an issue, she’s fast but she always feels as though she’s in control and Lena has been taking her out at night to practice mastering it at a nearby track. It’s not something that has a mind of its own, so she’s got it down pat.

One ability that has been giving her problems is advanced hearing. Kara must spend at least two hours every day practising using it at will and teaching herself how to activate and deactivate it. It’s not one that she can wrangle easily, and Lena being the sweetheart she is, has made her some advanced noise-cancelling headphones so she can relax without worrying about the world becoming too overwhelming at the drop of a hat when it decides to kick in on its own.

Those headphones sit atop her head whenever she’s getting in her daily hour of work and for at least another hour after that because she’s taken up a new hobby. Kara has been spending an increasing amount of time each day researching everything there is to find on vampires. She still has a little knowledge from her initial research after her first interaction with Lena but now she has so much free time that she’s found herself getting immersed in every scrap of information she can find.

There’s a problem she keeps running into though. There is so much contradicting information that she can’t make sense of what is true. She can confirm some with her own experiences and the few pieces of information she can drag out of Lena but can’t make any solid steps toward clarity.

Over time, she has created a log to track the different information about vampires she stumbles across on the internet. Some are blatantly false and some make her scratch her head in confusion, but there is something she’s noticing that she can’t seem to get out of her head. Her curiosity has peaked, and now she’s longing to figure out what all of it means.

The complete lack of certainty may be purposeful. It makes sense that she can’t find any solid information about vampires since they don’t want humans to know they actually exist. Since vampires have always been myths, they have become nothing more than a fictitious trope on which to base novels and movies. That certainly makes her research harder to dive into.

Still, that hour she spends shining a light on every corner of the internet she can find does answer a few of her questions. However, there is one that still needs to be answered. It’s a big one too.

Kara sighs as she closes the lid of her laptop before setting it beside the CatCo-issued one. She’s bright enough to know that researching anything that isn’t work-related on that laptop wouldn’t stay private for long. Besides, she’s ninety percent sure that Cat is tracking how long she spends on it daily so she’s not going over her one-hour limit.

By the time she’s done her hour of CatCo work and then an hour of research, she’s usually exhausted and today is no different.

It’s become somewhat of a routine for her; as soon as she’s done with her research, she sunbathes either out on the balcony or on the chaise Lena recently bought beside the glass doors. Lena claims she would have bought one for herself anyway but it doesn’t take a genius to see that lie from a mile away.

It’s looking a little cloudy today so she’s opting to take the chaise. There are hints of sunshine streaming down between the grey clouds, but it’s not enough for her to be optimistic. She snuggles down into the soft cushions with her headphones in place, closing her eyes and snatching up the few rays she can while she has the chance.

Without realizing it, Kara has developed her routine so that Lena is just getting home by the time she wakes up from a nap in the sun. It’s always dark by then and the rest means that she gets to stay up late and spend some time with Lena before she heads to bed.

Lena always wakes her when she returns, and not on purpose either. She shuffles past her and starts moving around the kitchen to make some tea every day and Kara can sense that someone is there. A panic builds up in her chest and her eyes fly open as she tries to calm her beating heart but she’s soothed by Lena’s calming presence daily as she deduces that she’s safe.

Following the same script, she’s startled awake, her hand twisting into the material of her shirt right over her heart, and then the tension in her muscles relaxes as she’s overwhelmed by the emerald-green eyes watching over her worriedly.

When this first started happening, Lena would rush over and try to calm her, but as the days have turned into weeks, she’s come to know that Kara doesn’t need or want to be coddled. She just needs a few moments to collect herself and then she’ll join her once she’s settled.

Lena has brought something home with her today. She keeps it carefully hidden until Kara rounds the counter to press a careful kiss to her cheek, her lips scalding against Lena’s frosty complexion. The kiss prompts Lena to subtly tilt her face towards Kara, offering her lips too, which Kara gladly accepts.

It’s unbelievable how quickly they have settled into this next stage of their relationship, but nobody is more surprised than Kara. Their first kiss felt like they had switched on a cosmic lightbulb because since then, they have fallen right into a natural rhythm, one where their connection that was nothing but an undercurrent in their lives turned into a prominent feature in that exact moment.

Lena has been amazing. She’s been working on bringing down the walls she’s spent centuries building, and she’s started a new tradition of sorts where she tells Kara something about herself every night before Kara heads to bed. Kara loves it; it always gives her something sweet to imagine as she drifts off. If she’s really lucky, she dreams about it.

“How was work?” Kara wraps her arms around Lena’s waist, dropping her head onto her shoulder and falling into a gentle embrace.

“Not too bad. Jess managed to run circles around some sleazy business owner. I think he wants to get us to take out a contract with him for steelwork despite us already having a contract with another company and their prices being significantly lower for much higher quality. He screamed in frustration at her constantly messing up dates when he tried to set up a meeting with me. She let me listen to the recording. It was glorious.” Lena smiles, her chest rumbling as she chuckles.

Kara leans back, her lips quirking at the story. “Do you think she’ll let me listen?”

“I think you have that woman wrapped around your little finger. You could always come into the office tomorrow if you feel up to it. I don’t have any meetings, so you can come and sit with me.” Lena kisses the side of Kara’s head before she backs off. Kara tries to follow the movement to prolong the mini cuddle session they were having but Lena holds up a single finger to make her wait while she grabs her little surprise.

Kara’s eyebrows scrunch, causing a little crinkle to form between her eyes, and her head tilts slightly to the left. A pout adorns her face for just a second before an excited grin wipes it away. Lena slides out a tub of ice cream from behind her purse with a flourish, her eyes pinned on Kara’s face so she doesn’t miss the reaction.

“You got me ice cream?” Kara bites her lip and bounces up onto her toes. “You’re the best!”

“I know.” Lena teases. “It’s even chocolate and caramel brownie flavour, your favourite.”

“Wrong.” Kara points at her, pulling Lena close to her again with a hand on her forearm. “You’re my favourite flavour.”

Lena rolls her eyes in response to that corny pick-up line but presses another kiss to Kara’s waiting lips anyway. “Yes, but you can’t eat me while watching a movie musical.”

“I can try.”

Lena’s eyes darken, leaving Kara enchanted as she watches the shades of green go from bright and shiny to something more akin to a dark forest night. “Darling, if you’re going to be between my thighs, you’re not focusing on Julie Andrews.”

Lena sneakily slides her hands beneath Kara’s shirt, her palms finding her back and tracing their way up and then back down to rest against the warm flesh just above the waistband of her pants. Kara shivers from the attention and the stark contrast of their body temperatures. It’s always been something she’s noticed whenever they have touched but never considered its power until they spent their first night together.

Every lingering touch, gentle caress and firm stroke felt like magic. Kara has to control herself now more than ever because she wants to jump Lena’s bones whenever she sees her. It’s becoming a real problem because there is a new show out on Netflix that Alex keeps trying to get both her and Lena to watch, but they never get around to it because they are too busy seducing each other.

At the very least, Kara is happy that Lena is in the same boat as her, mumbling at least once every time they fall into the sack together about how warm she is and how much she loves the feeling. At first, Kara was the one to initiate every time they shared more than a kiss, but as Lena became surer of herself and saw Kara grow stronger by the day, she became braver.

They are officially in their honeymoon period, and it doesn’t look like that will change any time soon. Kara’s glad for it because she loves the smiles she can rouse out of Lena, much more frequent now than before.

Kara is glad Lena is in such a good mood today though, thrilled actually. It means that her questions to further her vampire research will just be more likely to be answered. She nuzzles back into Lena’s shoulder, her lips pressing against her neck for a brief moment before she nips there carefully.

“Hey, that’s supposed to be my thing.” Lena jokes, and Kara leans back once more with twinkling eyes.

“You made a joke.” She observes with a barely restrained smile. “You never joke about vampire stuff.”

Lena hums, her hands travelling up Kara’s back again. “Well, maybe I’m learning that I don’t always have to be so serious.”

Kara squints at her, scrutinizing the overly innocent look Lena’s trying and failing to pull off. “No, you’re just less uptight now that you’re getting some. Tell me, how many decades had it been before me?”

Lena’s mouth drops open in shock, her eyes popping open comically wide. “Why, you little—” She grabs Kara by the waist and lifts her up. It earns her a squeal before she drops her down onto the counter and steps between her legs. “I’ll have you know that I am very good with the ladies when I want to be, and I have never had issues meeting my needs.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are. I saw that charm when I pummelled you with those garlic cloves and you were whining like a child.” Kara keeps teasing, her hands falling to rest over Lena’s shoulders.

Lena looks aghast that Kara is daring to bring up that interaction. She’s pretty sure they had made some unwritten pact that they should never discuss that. Kara snickers at the look of betrayal that passes through Lena’s expression as she rides the rollercoaster through every single emotion she’s ever felt in her life.

With deft fingers, Kara releases Lena’s hair from the hair tie keeping it away from her. The bun is released in a matter of seconds and Lena’s obsidian-coloured hair tumbles down her back like a waterfall enlivened by the moon in the dead of night.

“I cannot believe you just said that to me.” Lena shakes her head and tries to take a step back. A giggle escapes her when she is instantly trapped by Kara’s legs circling around her waist, her ankles crossing against the small of her back.

“I’m sure you’ll get over it.” Kara smiles against Lena’s lips as she drags her back into yet another kiss, the gentle movements soothing Lena in lieu of an apology, not that Lena was actually expecting one. They fall into a natural rhythm, neither trying to take control, both just enjoying the sensations brought upon them and matching each other movement for movement.

Lena’s hands trail over Kara’s thighs, her fingertips scraping against the fabric of Kara’s loose pants and soaking in as much of Kara’s heat as she can.

Kara’s hands are completely buried in Lena’s hair to the point where they would definitely win a game of hide and seek. Kara tugs lightly to get her attention so she can whisper against her lips. “Bedroom?”

Lena presses into another insistent kiss before pulling back reluctantly. “As much as I would love that, you haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

“I could eat your—”

“You’re still technically recovering; you need to eat properly.”

“Baby, you’re a three-course meal,” Kara smirks, her attempt to look sexy only making her look like the dork she is. It does things for Lena either way so Lena has a hard time backing off, but her need to take care of Kara wins out, no matter how much she wants to give in.

Lena eases Kara’s legs from around her waist. “We can revisit once you’ve had something to eat. What do you want? I’ll make it for you.”

Kara hops down from the counter, Lena’s arm shooting out to steady her just in case she slips on the tile floor in her stripy socks. “I’m not sure but don’t worry. I’ll find something. You’ve been at work all day; you must be tired.”

“I’m ok, I don’t mind.” Lena tosses a smile over her shoulder and starts rummaging through the fridge, searching for something to make. “Uh, we have the stuff for grilled cheese. Will that do?”

“Sounds perfect.” Kara accepts the offer and sits beside the island on one of the stools to watch Lena move around the kitchen. “So, what else happened at work today?”

Lena snorts as she starts prepping the grilled cheese. “It’s honestly super impressive how quickly you can go from horny to soft and caring in point two seconds.”

“Thank you.” Kara giggles. “I appreciate the compliment, but if you were to ask me if I wanted to eat something else, I would accept with no hesitation.”

“You’re insatiable. I didn’t expect you to be so confident, you know?”

“How come?”

Lena struggles to find the words to explain, her eyes flitting up toward the ceiling as she thinks. “You’re just…different. In a good way, but still different. I think it’s because you have your guard down more here but you aren’t as nervous or timid. I like it. I have to admit that the moments when you stood up to me, I took a liking to it, even before we were friends, let alone dating.”

Kara props her elbow onto the counter and then rests her head in her hand, gazing over at Lena as she works. “I can see that. You’re different too.”

“That’s because I’m comfortable here with you. I don’t feel like I have to hide.”

The words are so open and honest that it makes Kara tear up a little. Her heart breaks for the years Lena spent alone, wandering the planet hiding from everyone and living even when she had nothing to live for. It’s difficult to think about and something she can never forget, no matter how hard she tries. The very notion of it sticks in the back of her brain and waits for a moment of peace to creep up on her and remind her how cruel this world can be.

“I’m glad you feel that way.” Kara manages to choke out.

“Me too,” Lena responds, her voice soft. It reminds Kara of the way Lena spends her weekends with her, both of them dressed in their comfiest clothes and lounging around together, enjoying each other’s presence and learning as much as they can about each other.

Kara clears her throat. “So, tell me about your day.”

Lena dives right into a detailed retelling of all of the office drama from L-Corp. Jess always keeps her updated despite her telling her that she doesn’t care who ate Janet’s lunch but her assistant can see right through her and knows that she secretly loves the gossip. Kara loves the gossip too, just not as much as Lena does. She’s just happy to sit here and listen to her chatter away about someone clocking in late because of some strange reason because Lena’s voice is so soothing. She could listen to her all day.

Lena sits with her while she eats and updates her on her blood project. “I swear, I’m so close to figuring it out. I don’t think it’ll be too long before I know how to make a human-blood alternative for all vampires. It’ll probably take me a while to get the right equipment and actually make it before we can even get to trials, but I’m getting confident that it’s possible and I’ll even say that by the end of the year, there’s a good chance I will never need to rely on anyone to stave off my hunger again.”

Kara beams at her. “That’s amazing.”

“It is. It makes me sad that I probably could have figured it out long ago if I’d had the balls to try. I always put it off because I was afraid that I would put a whole load of effort into trying to make an alternative just for it not to work and for someone in the company to get wind of what I was doing and out me as a vampire.” Lena admits.

“Huh.” Kara’s eyebrows scrunch.

“What does that mean?” Lena questions, taken aback by how deep in thought Kara suddenly is.

Kara sucks her lips into her mouth for a second before releasing them, her hand scratching at her head and messing up her hair. “I just don’t think anyone’s first assumption would be that you’re a vampire.”

“Kara, people are more open to believing in the weird and wonderful than you think. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been caught out and had to start a new life for myself on the other side of the country.”

Blue eyes snap up to meet green. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. For many people, vampires are just a myth. However, over the years, it’s become more normalized for people to believe in us than you think.”

“But there’s barely anything on the internet,” Kara argues, realizing her mistake a sentence too late.

Lena’s eyes narrow. “You’ve been looking vampires up on the internet?”

Kara flails. “Not specific ones, no.”

“What exactly are you trying to find.”

Looking for a way out of this line of questioning, Kara uses the most childish technique known to man to try and avoid answering. She shoves the remainder of her grilled cheese into her mouth, her cheeks puffing out like a little hamster.

Lena lets out an annoyed breath. “Kara, this is important. What are you looking for?”

Kara shrugs, chewing as slowly as possible.

“That’s ok, I’ll wait.” Lena folds her arms over her chest, a sleek eyebrow raising in a challenge.

Kara’s shoulder sag. She’s not getting out of this one. She answers as soon as she’s swallowed the bite and washed it down with a swig of water. “I was looking for anything.”

“Anything?”

“Yeah. I want to know everything I can. I’m half vampire, I want to know as much as I can about the new side of myself. I want to know how many vampires there are. I want to know if all vampires have the same powers, and I want to know where they come from. They have to have come from somewhere. Oh, and I think that since vampires are real, there’s a chance that other mythical creatures exist too.”

“Like unicorns?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping for elves; a horse with a horn feels too easy.” Kara shrugs.

Lena hums, her mind filtering through the new knowledge she’s acquired. “So, why didn’t you just ask me these questions?”

“You’ve never really liked answering my questions. Plus, you told me before that you don’t know a lot about vampires despite knowing a bunch and being around for forever and a day.”

Lena has to give her that one. She can’t deny that. She’s open with the surface-level stuff but anything that involves digging too deeply into her past in any way that has negative connotations makes her close up like the lockable diary of a seven-year-old girl.

“Kara…”

“Oh no.” Kara recoils, leaning back away from Lena. “You’re using a disappointed voice.”

Lena takes a deep breath that, to Kara, sounds judgemental. “Kara. I’m not disappointed in you.”

Kara blinks at her, completely disbelieving. “Uh-huh.”

“I’m more upset that you’ve been trying to figure out all of this information that you’re entitled to and I haven’t been open enough for you to feel safe coming to me to learn any of it.”

“So you do have some of the answers?” Kara’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion.

Lena fiddles with the ring sitting on her thumb, sliding it up and down before twisting it. “Well…no, but I should, and for that, I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be sorry for what you don’t know.”

Lena’s mouth twists to one side before she centres it again and tuts. “So, did you find out anything good?”

“I did find something kind of interesting.”

“Do tell.” Lena leans forward, her fingertips tracing over the back of Kara’s hand.

Kara blushes at the touch and ducks her head for a second before she slips off the stool. “Wait here. I have a notebook.”

Lena huffs out a laugh. “Of course you do. How about we move into the living room and we go over what you’ve found together?”

It doesn’t take any convincing to get Kara to agree to that and they end up snuggled next to each other on the couch. Kara sits with her knees up to balance the notebook against them. Lena lazily wraps an arm around the one closest to her, making it awkward to prop up the notebook the way Kara planned. She’s not saying anything though, more than happy to adapt so Lena doesn’t move away.

“There isn’t much online to find. The vampire community is pretty tight-lipped and media adaptations take over a lot of the results so it’s been hard to pinpoint what is true and what’s speculation.” Kara starts by opening up the book and holding it between them so Lena can see her notes, written in her neat handwriting on the first page and then devolving into barely legible chicken scratch by the end where she didn’t care about how it looked anymore, more concerned with getting it all written down. Lena eyes it with a raised brow and Kara catches the look. “Not a word.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” Lena defends herself.

“Sure you weren’t.” Kara bumps her shoulder into Lena before resting her head against Lena’s. “The main points I found were just the same things we know, but there are more powers listed that popped up a few times and put them on my radar so I added them to the list.”

“Kara, I’ve never met a vampire that can mind-control someone.”

Kara takes the pen from where it’s hooked in the notebook’s spiral and makes a neat line right through that section. “That’s one thing we can cross off the list then.”

Lena’s eyes follow the track of the pen. “Ok, what else?”

Kara clicks her tongue in a funky little beat as she flips through the pages and settles on the part of her research that is more hypothetical. “I’ve been working on this for the past week or so. I’ve noticed how different powers popped up more when talking about specific countries, so I made a little list of which powers came up for each country to see if there’s a difference.”

Lena takes a closer look at the lists. Despite being as old as she is, she’s not spent much time travelling to different countries. She stuck to the UK for a while but then took a boat over to the US and never looked back. The most she’s done since then was a few business trips to Japan to meet with investors, but she never saw anything more than her hotel room or an office so she wasn’t paying attention to the nightlife. “That’s really interesting and maybe something to look into for sure. I’ve never heard of vampires from different parts of the world displaying different powers but I’ve never been the most sociable person around.”

“I’ve noticed,” Kara smirks at her before kissing her cheek to show she’s just playing with her.

Lena ignores her but still leans into the kiss. “I do know someone that might have a better idea about this stuff though. Andrea has never been one to stick around in one place for too long without getting bored. Actually, I think Sam might have done some travelling too. I’ll ask them tomorrow. Andrea gets mad when I call at night, and Sam asked me not to so I don’t wake Ruby up accidentally so I can’t call now but I promise I will.”

“Thank you.” Kara mumbles. “Would you find it interesting if it turns out that it’s true and it’s different for different locations?”

Lena nods. “I would. I would also find it terrifying though because that means that there’s someone out there probably trying to create a vampire with all available powers because there are some psychopaths out there.”

“Wow, your mind immediately went to Frankenstein. I would have thought you’re more of a Dracula person.”

“Haha.” Lena deadpans. “I think I’ll leave that for you but I’ll have you know that I love Mary Shelley. It’s not what I was thinking about but I don’t have much faith in the people on this planet, and if there’s something every bad person wants, it’s power.”

Kara nods. “I guess so.”

“Anyway.” Lena redirects the conversation. “How have you managed to get all of this done without anyone noticing?”

Kara smiles. “I can be sneaky when I want to be.”

“I’m sure you can.” Lena’s eyes dart down to Kara’s lips and she doesn’t attempt to resist. She dives in and her lips curve up into a smile against Kara’s when she feels how hard she’s pushing back into her.

“Bedroom now?” Kara asks, excitement in her voice that only serves to fire Lena up all the more.

Lena takes the notebook and pen from Kara, noting that the pen is now in pieces, crushed by Kara’s grip. She slides a hand beneath her back and one beneath her legs so she can lift her up and carry her into her bedroom, Kara giggling all the way.

She drops her down onto her bed and notices something as she does. She takes a step back with a frown, her eyebrows furrowed down and her lips pressed into a line.

“What is it?” Kara asks, suddenly worried.

“Have we only been having sex here because you don’t want to change your sheets as often as I have to change mine?”

Kara breaks out into a cheeky grin. “Hell yeah, it is.”

For early access to more chapters of my fics, check out my Patreon here!

Myself and a couple of other fanfic writer friends of mine are starting a new collaborative event for writers and artists in the Supergirl fandom for all WLW ships. If that's something that floats your boat, come check it out. New writers are welcome and artists are free to use many different art forms. Check out Supergirl May-hem here!

[gay-dorito-dust]

mind making a lucy carlyle fic?? maybe like after the scene of annabel ward in her room ,, y/n sleeps with her so they would make sure that shes safe and the next morning lockwood would barge into the room seeing the two cuddling with lucy's head in readers chest and all that. thank you and i absolutely love your writing!!!!! :D

Finally! My first Lucy Carlyle request! Fuck yeah! 🦦

“I don’t feel right.” You told George and Lockwood when you three trudged down the stairs from Lucy’s room, your tired and aching body somehow becoming even more tired and aching from recent events. “Why? We’ve concealed the source and kept Annabelle away from doing us in. So what could you possible feel off about?” George asked, “you’re not ghost-locked are you?” He added and you made a indignant noise, “no I’m not, it’s just,” you looked back towards Lucy’s room with a furrow in your brow and a growing unease in your stomach, “I’m worried about Luce.” You looked back towards the boys who were already looking back at you. “Can’t I just stay with her for the night? Just to make sure she’s okay and all that.”

George and Lockwood knew this was coming, they knew it the moment you briskly took Lucy under your wing upon meeting her after they told you about the new assistant. Originally the were worried about how you’d react, considering how fond you were of Robin before he unfortunately passed on, but luckily for them you were more then ready to move on and accept the newest member of your team. You loved George and Lockwood with all your heart but conversation gets a bit stale when you’ve been you’ve been talking to the same two men since the beginning of your tenor with Lockwood and Co. So when you got told that a new assistant would be living with you, you were rather skeptical but once you got to know Lucy, you knew then and there that you’d be by her side through the thickest and thinnest of times.

“Of course you can,” Lockwood said with a gentle smile, “me and George will bring up the air mattress, you just get what you need from your room and keep Lucy company.” You smiled while George groaned, tilting his head back so it was facing the ceiling, “do I have to?” He whines and you couldn’t help but smile sympathetically at the researcher. “Yes George, I can’t carry the damn thing up the flights of stairs by myself now can I?” Lockwood retorted as he made his way further down the flight of stairs, knowing that George would help despite his whining because he had much of a weak spot for you as did he. For after being pivotal presences within each other’s lives for so long you, George and Lockwood found yourselves relegated to a found family archetype; one where none of you wanted to think of the slight off chance of losing one another some day.

“That would be an much adventurous ability, wouldn’t it. We’d leave all the heavy lifting to you from then on while we sit leisurely on the settee drinking tea and eating biscuits.” George said as he trailed after Lockwood, leaving you to smile like an idiot, rushing down to your room and grabbing every blanket and pillow your arms could possibly carry before bringing them up to Lucy’s room where you found the girl sat on the edge of her bed; picking at her nails with her eyes downcast and blank. Your heart once again broke upon looking at her as the smile faded from your face when remembering why you came up here to begin with; making sure Lucy was safe. You must’ve let the thought of having an impromptu sleepover get to your head, so much so that you almost forgot the events that happened prior completely in an act of coping with your close encounters with death.

“Hey.” You said softly, dumping the pillows and blankets onto the air mattress that George and Lockwood brought up, deciding that you would deal with it later for Lucy’s comfort and well-being were your priority first and foremost, before sitting down next to her while also making sure to maintain some distance in the case that Lucy felt suffocated by close proximity. “Hey.” She replied weakly, “Lockwood and George came up here with an air mattress. What’s all that about?”

“I’m sleeping up here for the night.” You told her.

“You don’t have to do that.” Lucy told you, looking into your eyes now.

“I really don’t mind, I was the one to suggest it in the first place.”

“Why?”

“Because I worry for you.” You tell her, gingerly placing your hand over hers and squeezing. Lucy laughs humourlessly, “me? You worry about me? I’m the one who brought the damned source home and nearly had us all killed!” She exclaimed, not understanding how you could still treat her like you normally did after tonight. She felt as though you should at least resent her a little for putting you, George and Lockwood in danger and not be smiling at her and comforting her like you were now; You baffled Lucy so much but she guessed that was what made you endearing. “You wouldn’t do something like this without trying to prove something. Also for consideration you didn’t nearly get us killed. You did the right thing and warned us.” You reassured her with a pat to her hand before looking at the time just as an yawn ripped from your throat and the all too familiar feeling of fatigue weighed heavily on your eyelids and limbs.

“Gods, is that the time? We better get some shut eye if we wanna get to the bottom of Annabelle’s murder.” You went to get up but Lucy’s hand clutched onto yours, pulling you back down onto her bed. Worried, you looked over at her and saw her with her eyes down cast once more but her grip on your hand didn’t faulted, but instead grew tighter as though she was trying to prove to herself that you were still very much a physical and tangible being. “Luce, what’s wrong? Are you feeling okay? Are you ill? What’s-“

“stay.”

You blinked, “pardon?”

“Stay here with me?” She asked and you tilted your head, confused. “Isn’t that what I’m doing by sleeping up here?” You asked, not understanding where this conversation was going.

“I meant I want you to sleep here with me. In this bed.” Lucy explained and when she saw the unreadable look on your face, she immediately assumed that you weren’t comfortable in sharing a bed with her and was about to backtrack when you finally said “sure. I don’t mind sharing if you don’t,” you made a face at your words, “wait, that don’t make sense because if you did mind then you wouldn’t have suggested it in the first place- ignore that last bit. Let’s just get to bed, shall we?” You said, using the hand Lucy was griping onto like a life to usher her into bed.

The next morning came and Lockwood, taking note how you and Lucy were still yet to come down and have breakfast that was slowly getting cold, decided to see what was keeping you both. So as he got to Lucy’s room, Lockwood was more then pleasantly surprised when he caught sight of the air mattress that he and George almost broke their necks carrying up, laid there useless with a heap of pillows and blankets in top of it before his dark eyes glanced over to Lucy’s bed where he let out a little ‘oh.’

Laid there in a tangle of limbs and bedsheets was you laying on your back, mouth slightly agape, but you weren’t alone. Tucked tightly against your chest like a new born was Lucy, her arms softly clutched at your waist and her legs only entangled themselves more with yours when you involuntarily twitched. Her face, though slightly obscured by stands of her hair, was peaceful and serene as though she never experienced a nightmare. Your arms then tightened around her upper back and her her waist, burying you head into her hair, inhaling deeply as a soft smile graced your features as you eased yourself back into slumberland.

Lockwood smiled at the pair of you and decided to be generous and allow you both the lie in and softly closed the door behind him. “Still sleeping?” George asked, having followed Lockwood when he turned away from the stove to find him missing from the table. “Still sleeping.” Lockwood confirmed, looking back over at the door with a sense of ease filing his chest. “Aren’t you going to wake them?” George asked again but from the look on his friends face, he knew the answer. “Not just yet,” Lockwood replied, “give them an extra five minutes and if they’re not up by then, then we’ll wake them.” The pair, satisfied with their conversation, walked back down the stairs to allow you and Lucy your five extra minutes of rest.

[outofangband]

Morwen and Aerin scene from a longer fic (can be read without the rest though)

cw: implied/background abuse and captivity

“You should keep these for yourself,” Aerin says quietly but she does not protest as Morwen finishes crushing the leaves and adds them to the steaming cup.

“I have no need of them now and these grow unrestrained in my garden,” Morwen says, “You are in pain. You do not hide it well.”

This is not strictly true. Aerin has been concealing this pain for days now and is well accustomed to hiding others. She has been using her arm normally, despite how it exacerbated the wrenching of the joint. But it seemed that when she crossed this threshold, her ability to hide her suffering left her. She pulls her shawl more tightly around her. She has not worn clothes that truly feel her own in well nigh a year. She has not felt her own for that time either.

The steam coaxes forward her tears with more urgency. The scent of it coated her nose and mouth. It was too hot to hold but she reached for the mug anyways, feeling the roughly formed clay of the Nen Lalaith beneath her burning fingers. Morwen watches her for a moment, then lays one hand atop of hers, just briefly, and she sets it back down again.

“I am sorry.”

“For what do you apologize?”

Aerin makes a movement between a shrug and a shoulder. Her shaking does not abate after and once more those words find her.

This will never end, not until I do.

She has thought this again and again since that day she was first brought before him but it is the closest she has yet come to saying them.

She does not, though the words are half formed. Nor does she think Morwen will have any answer. There is no answer that is both honest and kind. Aerin knows she has come closer to death lately than she has ever done before, close enough that she tries with an almost desperation not to consider that end, and which she dreads more.

She blinks away more tears. She cannot weep for this or she would not stop.

“I will stay up, if you want a few minutes. I could not sleep myself.”

Morwen looks exhausted truly but Aerin does not doubt her words. She does not want to accept but her own tiredness is weighing on her and she knows she will not have long before she has to return and when she does, she will have no sleep.

Aerin takes one of her hands and links her fingers through Morwen’s, looking at her for permission to remain like this. Morwen gives her a swift nod that almost makes her smile even if it does not.

Perhaps she does sleep. She does not dream but her world blurs in a way that lessens the sharpness of her pain and coats her sadness in something hazy, if only briefly.

She stands again before she is truly awake, the blanket that is not hers falling to the ground. She cannot speak as she walks to the door. If she does not restrain herself before she returns she will pay for it dearly. She wants to think it would be worth it. She does not know.

(Morwen watches Aerin leave, pulling the frayed edges of her shawl more tightly around her. It had not been made for warmth but anything that she might use to cover herself was welcome.)

Note: the flow is definitely a bit rushed, this is party of chapter five of with slander for a blade and it’s a bit out of the style of the previous chapters, it’s almost an interlude. Anyways it definitely needs some work still. There are a few paragraphs at the beginning I didn’t end up including because they needed more work

I have lots of thoughts on Morwen and herblore, I’ve been doing so much research for a few fics

Second Author’s note: I have a post here that goes a bit into Aerin’s first meeting Brodda and I’m writing it in fic form but it’s been taking awhile

Third:: I hope this is ok, I’ve been feeling so bad about my content lately and unfortunately it’s made me an even worse empirical judge of it

[and-justice-for-zoisite]

𝓛𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓒𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼 (Bernard the elf x disabled! reader)

Masterlist

Summary: Ever since the accident which rendered the reader permanently disabled, she's hated Christmas and dreaded the idea for the entire year since the accident, afraid to relive traumatic memories. However, her best friend Charlie has an idea to return this Christmas spirit to his friend, and a serendipitous romance blooms between herself and a certain head elf...

Warning/s: Traumatic events, car accident. However, lots of fluff will ensue!

For @katerinaval

A/N: so the original requester originally asked that I write it in a way that the reader still has christmas spirit, however I found i was much more intrigued by this spin of it so please do forgive me if this wasn't what you were after. Also, I am not physically disabled nor do I know anyone physically disabled so forgive me if this depiction is innaccurate. I do always put a lot of research into my stories but feel free to call me out on anything incorrect!

I hope you enjoy regardless!

Word Count: 4.1K

-

It'd been 339 days since the accident.

(Y/n) didn't know why she kept count of it when all she wanted to do was forget it. How could she though? She was paralyzed from the waist down.

From her room, (Y/n) stared out at the streets, feeling her body go numb as she watched the first snow trickle down gracefully onto her lawn. Before her life changing injury, such a sight would've sent her running out the door, doing all those stupid kid things like rolling around on the frosted grass and catching snowflakes on her tongue.

Now, all she could do was be sickened by it.

Last Christmas, (Y/n) and her family were struck by a drunk driver on the roads of their otherwise peaceful town. He was a provisional driver, it only made sense.

Her family made it out with but a few scratches and bruises.

For (Y/n) it wasn't the same.

The ambulance which took her away from the scene had discovered she'd suffered a severe spinal injury, and after a few consultations with various doctors and specialists, she was told there was no chance she could ever walk again.

The boy who hit their car copped a hefty fine and some jail time. Even so, not even that could bring back her ability to walk again.

And because of that, she was bitter to the world.

To think she was only just beginning life, and now it'd been taken away from her in barely a moment.

It wasn't difficult to see that she hadn't been the same since the accident, though more devastatingly her best friend Charlie could no longer celebrate the holiday he holds dearest to him with his closest friend.

The two had been friends since they were in diapers. She was there for him when his parents split up, when he acted out the way he did, and when his Christmas spirit returned to him after what he could only describe to her as 'making amends with his dad again'.

Charlie hated Christmas before he and his dad made amends, and (Y/n) was there as his rock, trying to convince him that the holidays were a time of loving and forgiveness.

Now, the roles were reversed, and it was Charlie's turn to be her rock.

-

"What you're asking for here is a bit of a stretch, sport."

"C'mon Bernard, you gotta help me out here!"

Bernard was always delighted when the kid he watched grow up shook his snow globe and summoned him. Usually he'd do this when he needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to vent to or even just when he needed some company.

This time however, Charlie needed a favour.

"Dad would never let this happen with only me asking for it," Charlie insisted, bouncing slightly on his bed as he sat up abruptly, "I need a second word put in there for me. And who better than his second man?" "This just isn't something we do kid," Bernard told him regretfully, pacing around the boy's room, "not just because she's in a wheelchair, but no humans with the exception of Santa's immediate family are permitted within the North Pole's factory vicinity." "Come on Bernard!" Charlie plead, unintentionally slapping his hands together in a beggars way, "You've gotta see it through her eyes! Ever since the accident, she hasn't been the same. Christmas used to be her favourite holiday...our holiday. I'd give anything to see that sparkle in her eyes again, and I know you of all people would too."

The kid was right. Even though Bernard had never met (Y/n), he always regarded her highly since she'd always been there for Charlie, and even tried to coax him back out of the wrong crowd.

He was reluctant to his idea, but he'd be damned if he couldn't at least do something to make things right.

"Okay, I'm not making any promises," Bernard warned him, pointing that old man finger of his as he always did, "but I'll see what I can do."

Charlie's eyes lit up at his words, and he was quick to spring up from his bed and throw himself at the elf, wrapping him up in a big hug.

"Thanks Bernard, you're the best!" he cheered, the elf groaning as Charlie squeezed him a little too tight. "Just keep being good, kiddo," Bernard wheezed, giving Charlie a light pat on the back.

He was sure there was some strings he could pull.

-

These days, even the quietest knock on her door would startle (Y/n), especially since she spent most of her time in her head, reliving those memories in which she could still walk.

She would never let that fear show however, as she'd always gather her composure and ask whoever was at her bedroom door to come in.

It wasn't unusual for her father to come upstairs with her dinner, one she hardly ever finished anymore considering her appetite left with her ability to walk. This time however, she could sense something different about his approach.

"Hey (N/n)," he greeted, as usual, with a plate of whatever the family was having for dinner in his hands, "I've got dinner. It's your favourite!"

His attempts at cheering her up were always in vain, and she felt so bad for that.

"Just leave it on my nightstand," (Y/n) said monotonously, staring back out her window to the ever-darkening scenery, "I'll get to it later." "Hey, uh, can I have a seat? I wanted to talk to you about something," her father asked.

Intrigued, she made the effort to roll herself over to the man, who she nodded to allowing him to sit on her bed. She was fixated, and she could tell he was figuring out a way to tread lightly on some sensitive topic.

"...Now, I know it's coming up to that time of the year, but I've just had Charlie over here for a proposal," he began, already seeing the way his daughter's eyes were glazing over as she started dissociating, "...he...wants to take you on a trip over Christmas, and your mother and I think it'd be good for you to get out of the house. Especially over Christmas." "What's the point?" she huffed, staring into space, "it's not like I can do much. If anything I'd hinder him in my state." "(Y/n), it's not about that," Her dad cut in, grabbing her hand gently and rubbing her knuckles affectionately, "he was never friends with you because you could walk. He's friends with you because he loves you for what's in there."

The man gently poked her lower shoulder, and she felt it burn like her heart was beginning to work for the first time in a while.

"He just wants to see you happy again, and he'll do anything he can to get you there - even with your circumstances."

(Y/n) sat there a moment, speechless. She really didn't want to go on this trip - since she was no longer independent, Charlie would have to take care of her and help her with her most intimate activities - which, god bless his heart, he had learned to do for her sake. But, she knew she couldn't turn this offer down of all things. She had to admit, she did miss her best friend and doing the things she used to love with him. It couldn't hurt to give it another shot, could it?

She sighed.

"Fine." "You won't regret it kiddo, I promise."

-

"So, Charlie. You still haven't told me where exactly it is we're going."

Charlie used to frequent (Y/n)'s house quite a lot before the accident. He remembered when her room used to be so messy you could hardly see the floor under her clothes and gossip magazines and torn up homework. It was nauseating seeing it so clean, so empty of what she used to be. He came over to help her pack for the trip that they'd be headed off for that same night, thinking he'd have to dig through clothes to find her valuables and necessities. He was wrong, but he was hoping he could bring her old self back to life with this trip, thanking his lucky stars as well as Bernard for making it possible.

Though naturally, he couldn't tell her where they were going. She'd never believe him.

"It's a surprise," he told her, throwing clothes he knew she liked into her dusty, old suitcase, "but you'll love it, I promise."

For the first time in a long time, (Y/n) felt excited. She was keen on this surprise of life, and for once, she wasn't worried about how she'd cope in the environment.

If she trusted anyone, it was Charlie.

So he helped her pack her things, fare welled her parents, and they were set for the airport shortly after.

However, this was no conventional flight.

Their air travel would be powered by magic.

-

The first thing (Y/n) noticed when she awoke from her slumber in which she had no memory of falling into, was how cold it was. It was as though she was no longer aboard a plane, but instead something with an open roof. Or rather, without a roof.

Her eyes fluttered open at the feeling of cold specks touching her face, like little ice fairies were dancing on her skin. In all of her confusion, all she could do was stare into the abyss above her - a night-fallen sky filled with little stars which limned their surroundings with subtle but beautiful glow, so unremarkable in the grand scheme of things though such a wonder to human kind. The stars were ancient and retained all the memories of this earth, and (Y/n) could tell just by looking at them that she was in a special place.

There was a splash of something in her eyes, over her nose, and suddenly, a wave of drowsiness was harsh and evident as her eyes became heavy again. She had no idea that this sleep was magic induced, though she'd let it take her under the impression that it was the cold.

-

This time, (Y/n) awake gently like she had before. This time, it was with a sudden jolt, and to the likes of a handsome stranger leaning over her in a way that was reminiscent of when she was being helped off public transport. She was startled by his presence, though she was intrigued by one thing and one thing only.

His ears were pointed.

"...who...-wh-a..." she stumbled over her words, groggy but very much now awake, "where am I?!" "Hey, hey, it's alright," the stranger assured her, pulling her wheelchair onto flat ground carefully, "Charlie! She's awake!"

She hadn't even taken into account the environment in which she found herself in - like the Christmas section of Walmart had thrown up in there. However, it didn't smell like cheap tinsel and plastic ornaments. Instead, the aroma was sweet, and of gingerbread and cocoa and peppermint. It was bittersweet, but she wanted answers.

As soon as he heard the elf's words, the boy came bounding over, a reckless mess of pubescence as per usual as he came to his friend.

"(N/n), you're awake," he pointed out as though it weren't obvious, "how'd you sleep?" "Don't give me that!" she snapped, confused and infuriated, "where am I? And why does it look like we're in line for a mall Santa?? Did you really fly me overseas so we could see a foreign mall Santa??" "Hold on, hold on! Let me explain," Charlie prattled, waving his hands in front of himself, "This is where my dad works." "Your dad is an overseas mall Santa?" she scoffed, furrowing her brows. "No, no! You don't get it. My dad is Santa," Charlie explained, (Y/n) letting out another scoff as she rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and my mother's the effing tooth fairy," she jabbed, crossing her arms, "Look Charlie, whatever this sick joke is, I don't like it."

Charlie noticed that her eyes had wondered to behind him, and in them her anger flickered away into shock, daze and wonder. He followed her gaze, turning in the same direction only to find his dad emerging from inside the factory into where they were, the reindeer shed. Behind him were most of the staff which specialised in caring for the reindeer, as well as his precious hot cocoa elf and the young elf in the spectacles he begrudgingly called his second in command.

Her eyes then flickered over to the animals, and then the sleigh. This was all way too elaborate for a mall Santa set up.

"(Y/n) (M/n) (L/n)," Scott recited, approaching her with that sweet jolly smile of his, "you've grown so much since last time I saw you."

She stared up at the man in awe, her lips parted slightly and her big (e/c) eyes widened. She could feel the magic emanating from his being.

"I remember when you were 11 years old, the year you wished for a Nintendo ds in your letter, but wrote last minute to me to trade it for some help with your mom and dad's financial situation. You didn't wanna see them fight about it anymore, but I still got you that ds too," the man reminisced, chuckling to himself, "then, when you were thirteen. You never really liked girly things, but you wished for them anyways to try and fit in. I saw past it though, and how you feigned disappointment when you found those action figures under the tree."

(Y/n)'s eyes welled up with tears, and as she blinked they rolled down her cheeks, the girl dampening her lips to speak.

"...not even my parents know that..." she whispered, her hands trembling as she looked down at them, "...h-how...?"

So, they all explained everything. How Scott became the current Santa Clause, why Charlie was in that mental rut the year before, and why they brought her here. It was very overwhelming to her, but at the same time...she felt something other than looming despair for the first time in a long while.

"I knew your dad worked abroad, but..." (Y/n) sighed, running a hand through her messy hair, wettened by the melting snowflakes in it, "...I don't think anything could've prepared me for this." "If I can get you anything please let me know," the head elf she had come to know as Bernard said, holding his hands in one another caringly, "I want you to be comfortable here while you stay." "Why don't you show her to her room? Take a break and show her around. Charlie will help me sort things out here," Scott suggested, patting his son on the back.

Naturally, Bernard agreed to this arrangement, and would go on to wheel the girl to her room so she knew where it is, before he showed her around.

She couldn't help but think him such a charming man as he spoke, his posture a key depiction of his confidence, his kindness as a mentor who guided his underlings to excellency. Though she noticed he had a bit of a temper to him, she found it striking that even such an ancient creature like him had imperfections. She wanted to know what he was about, intrigued beyond belief at what this handsome stranger held in store for her.

-

(Y/n) had never held such a keen interest in knitting before this trip. Now, Bernard had her knitting like a mad man. It was enjoyable sitting in a circle amongst other elves in the textiles department, everyone doing their own thing though still enjoying each other's company with a little talk or comfortable silence.

She was now four days into her trip, and to say she was enjoying it was an understatement.

Bernard had taught her to knit that morning, her face burning when he grabbed her hands and showed her the motions to begin knitting her very first scarf. She had to admit, it was hard to focus when all she could think about was how nice his hands felt on hers, even when they were as calloused as they were. She enjoyed discovering his imperfections, like little treasures scattered in his being. It was endearing seeing how human this elf really was.

She'd ask him:

"where'd you get those callouses from?"

He'd say:

"oh, it's nothing. I just handwrite most things."

She liked learning about all of his little cuts and bruises and scars. She'd retain each and every story and store it in her memory, though it was all unintentional.

Beside her in the circle, Bernard had sat in a chair, knitting something she wasn't sure of. When he left to run a quick errand, the textiles elves in the circle whispered to her about how he never spent this much time with them, and that she must've been pretty special to have him hang out with her for this long.

At first, she was flattered. But then, she had a bad feeling that he was only doing this because he felt bad for her. She'd heard the tinsel boys run outside to play their football, and how overjoyed everyone else was to go watch and join in. As much as she had succeeded in keeping her mind off of it, she obviously couldn't help but come back around to it eventually.

As the days went by, Bernard could see that (Y/n) was getting noticeably sadder and sadder. Naturally, he couldn't sit by and let this just happen without intervention, though he knew to tread lightly.

"Hey (Y/n)," Bernard greeted her, finding her sat outside in the snow, admiring the festive glow and scenery as the sun began setting, "are you alright?"

She looked back at him, taking him in for everything he was as she turned her head forward once again and nodded. Needless to say, with her sad expression, Bernard wasn't convinced. With a quiet sigh, he approached her, standing at her side and looking down at her.

"You know...you're a bad liar," Bernard pointed out, his hands on his hips, "you're not even trying to hide it." "I don't like pretending," (Y/n) shrugged, her eyes downcast, "I'm over my days of make-believe, it's much too exhausting. I don't see this world for it's colour anymore. Only it's shades." "You're very poetic," Bernard pointed out, tilting his head ever so slightly at her. "When you can't walk, you do other things. Like read," she continued, staring into space once again, "sometimes, I just need the world to be beautiful. I know how dark and ugly it can be but I just want to see something good and focus only on it if for a few minutes." "I know what you mean," Bernard added, the girl looking up at him, intrigued, "I've been around for a long time. I've seen things that I wish I could forget. But, you can't just keep looking back, no matter how bad the past has scarred you. You've just gotta keep moving forward and making the most of every opportunity life gives you. It's a waste of time pondering on the things that could've been."

Why did he always have a point?

(Y/n) felt her insides swirl when he looked down at her like that. Not patronizingly like everyone else did, but instead like he actually understood her. Like he actually cared.

"I'm sorry...I'm being cynical," she sighed, shaking her head, "I'm having trouble moving past my circumstances." "Hey, don't apologise," he told her, kneeling down on one knee in front of her as he took her hands, "it's okay to not be okay and I want you to know that. But it's also okay to push yourself despite the circumstances. You don't have to hide in your shell forever."

She liked staring into those dark, puppy dog eyes of his. Even on the coldest days she could find warmth within them, like two pools of hot cinnamon chai lattes with no milk.

"You intrigue me. You know that, right?" she asked him, a cheeky smile piquing her lips. "Ditto," he whispered, returning her smile.

He squeezed her hands and let them go, inviting her back inside for some cocoa which she happily accepted.

-

Bernard often helped himself to the duty of putting (Y/n) to bed, since they had become rather fond of each other over the past few weeks. It was hard for them not to when they were so intrigued by one another.

She liked it when he carried her bridal style from her wheelchair, careful not to let her legs dangle as he laid her down on her bed and tucked her in. This night however would be different than the rest.

They had engaged in conversation, and Bernard sat beside her in her bed, leaning over her to see her as they spoke.

"Okay, okay. What about that one?" (Y/n) asked, pointing to yet another scar on Bernard's body, this one being on his exposed collarbone. "Just a factory accident, machinery in mechanics department malfunctioned and nicked my collarbone. Could've been worse though, could've hit a major artery," he explained it's story, his heart fluttering at the way she giggled. "Is it weird...that I like all of your scars?" she asked, her face all rosy from laughing. "No, not at all," Bernard giggled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "but what makes you say that?" "I just...I think it's so neat how we retain all these memories in physical marks. Your body tells me such an interesting story. Not just the scars, all the imperfections," she began, grabbing his hand and feeling his fingers, "like your callouses, and the random moles on your arms, and just anything you've attained." "Hm...you say that about me, yet you find it so hard to accept yourself for the way you are now," Bernard pointed out, and as he did her smile faded and she let go of his hand. "Well...my disability feels more like an inconvenience, and I feel like anyone who has to deal with me...thinks I'm nothing but a burden," she explained, her whole mood drooping back down. "But you're not, and I wish you'd see how much more you are thank you think," he said, taking her hand again and squeezing it tight, "I wish you could see yourself through my eyes." "Yeah? And what do you see?" she asked, trying to sound cynical though truthfully she was starting to feel hopeful again. "I see a beautiful, talented young woman, who despite her disability, excels in other things. And when she keeps her mind off of her dark thoughts, she becomes the most beautiful, most interesting person I have ever met."

In her big doe eyes, Bernard could see his reflection, though barely considering all that lit her room was the meek glow of the candle on her nightstand. Her lips were parted, and she simply stared at him for a moment, dazed.

His eyes flickered between hers and her lips, and he dampened his own to ask a question.

"Can I...?"

But she didn't let him finish that question, because she knew what he was going to say.

She reached up, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him down.

She could taste the cinnamon altoid mints he always chewed on when she kissed him, and his lips were as soft as she had imagined them.

-

She was sad to be on her way out, after having spent an amazing Christmas with her best friend and her new partner. On her last day, they cuddled up by his fireplace all day before he saw her off with Charlie.

The boy had definitely noticed a difference in her behaviour. He could see that sparkle in her eyes again, and he found himself thanking his lucky stars once again for the way that this Christmas had treated her.

There was one thing he had left to do however.

As he finished helping her unpack her things, he pulled out a gift he had messily yet carefully wrapped and he handed it to her.

"Here (Y/n), I wanted to give you this," he told her, the girl taking the gift.

She was unsure of what it could be, and confused as to why he gave it to her after Christmas. However, when she unwrapped it, it all made sense.

It was the snow globe he had told her about, the one which summoned Bernard when shook with the right intention.

She looked up at him, shocked, only to find him smiling back at her sweetly.

"I figured you'll need it more than I will now," he conceded, pushing out the creases in his hoodie, "look after it, alright?"

-

[thepumpkincorsair]

Lunchbox Heroes Part 1: Assignment

This started out from a Writing Prompt, and I did the rough draft on tumblr over an hour of lunch. The rough draft got enough attention for me to actually go back, edit, and add to it. It went from 3 pages to 8. So.... have fun with where it went, and let me know if you'd like to read more!

TW: Violence, Gore, Language

The scent of blood isn’t something you ever forget, especially when it’s soaked into your skin, absorbed into your very being. You wake up in the morning and choke on the metallic scent, like your sheets are sticky with coagulated sanguine… pinning you in place as you slide past the slime to escape the cotton prison of your bed. It’s been 30 years. You were 6 when your parents died, and for 30 years… you've choked on their blood every morning.

Every night, you close your eyes and you’re 6 again, cowering in a closet. You can see the whole thing through the slats in the door, lit by the moon in the window. Crimson Ax, a brutal villain, had decided your mother’s research into Abilities was a potential detriment to him. Your mother had been researching how to suppress abilities. How to use certain technologies to create a dampening device, so Villains could be more easily contained, and so children like you would have the chance to grow into their abilities safely… The villains didn’t want to let anyone have that kind of technology. Crimson would never let anyone contain him… and for that, he killed both of your parents.

30 years ago, you were home sick. If you hadn’t, you would have been at daycare, blissfully ignorant to the truths of the world. You would have believed the news report released the next day, you would still have hope in the world… but you were home sick, and never did recover.

It happened incredibly fast, but in slow motion at the same time… you were eating a snack, watching tv on your parents bed, some cartoon on public broadcast. Your father had rushed into the room and shoved you in the closet, telling you to keep silent, no matter what happened. You’d never seen him so pale, so wide eyed… so terrified. Your mother’s scream downstairs silenced you immediately, and made you cling to him.

Your father, rest his soul, ripped your hands off of his clothes, pinning them to your sides, “Stay here, stay still, stay silent. I love you.” He knew what was coming. You didn’t.

He reached past you for the family’s shotgun, and shut the door, closing you in. Your mother ran into the room as he did. She was holding her shoulder, but her arm was hanging wrong… it was hanging too low… there was so much blood, her pink dress was now red. You wanted to run to her, but the blast of the shotgun made you fall back into the back of the closet, onto your father’s shoes, where you stayed, hidden by his shirts.

There was a deep, dark laugh as a mountain of a man walked into the bedroom. Dressed in red, wielding a massive ax in place of his left arm. A red helmet hid his face from view as he stepped forward, swinging the ax down on your mother’s back. Blood sprayed from her mouth as she fell to the carpet.

Your father shot again, knocking Crimson back a step before he just smiled. “I was considering letting you live… but shooting me twice? You’ve just gone and pissed me off.” He pulled the ax out of your mother’s lifeless body and took a step towards your father.

That was when the window shattered, and two new figures entered the bedroom, wearing their own masks. Heroes… or so you thought. Defendor and his sidekick, Power Pal, stood in the moonlight, catchphrases primed and ready to deliver, but Crimson Ax didn’t let them deliver it. He laughed, picking up your mother’s body, and throwing it at Defendor, before rushing Power Pal, and putting that Ax right into his gut.

“What a hero…” He crooned as he ripped the ax from Power Pal’s abdomen, spilled ropes of bloody intestines on the floor. What good do Abilities do when your insides are falling out?

Defendor was on the ground, your mother’s body still draped in his lap. Staring in shock towards his sidekick. He was one of the up and coming Heroes in your city. Newly signed to an agency, and making a name for himself taking down criminals and villains nearly on a daily basis. He was your favorite hero as a child… and he never even stood up.

That deep dark laugh just echoed into the night, as your father’s shaky hands tried to reload the shotgun. Two more blasts rang out into the night as Crimson lumbered back the 5 steps to your father… He screamed when Crimson’s hand closed around his head. He begged for help, he called to Defendor as Crimson began to hack away at him. He cried and sobbed, and you held your hands over your mouth, soaked in your own tears and piss, hiding in a closet.

When it was over… When your father’s screaming finally stopped… and the choking sounds of dying breaths had finally ceased… Defendor was still sitting there. Staring at the lifeless body of Power Pal, holding your mother.

“You heroes… you think the world revolves around what you want, and that you can shape it to fit your desires… but here is the truth: The world is cruel, and that cruelty will never be contained. Pandora opened her box at the beginning of time, and even then, the very gods knew it’s contents could never be contained again. In the end, we all die. In the end, evil always wins. Because there is no good in death.” He laughed the whole time as he turned and left, leaving Defendor to stare into the darkness, and you to stare into your father’s lifeless eyes.

You force yourself out of your sweat soaked sheets and get in the shower, attempting to get the scent of phantom blood out of your hair and skin. You were an adult now, with shit to do. You didn’t get to hide in closets anymore. The hot water of the shower helps you relax a bit, but also lets your mind slip back to why you slept so poorly every night.

The cops weren’t the first to arrive. It was a woman in a white suit. She walked into the room without you even noticing her, until she spoke.

“What the ever loving fuck happened here Defendor?”

He just stammered incoherently as she stepped over your father’s body, directly to the closet, directly to you. She opened the closet and stared down at you, covered in tears, piss, and choking on the scent of blood. She frowned, and picked you up. “And of course you saw the whole thing. Let’s get you away from here.”

It was then that you started sobbing, crying into her shoulder as she carried you out of the house and past a squad of people in tactical gear. “Get that useless sack out of there and clean that mess up. I want a proper statement written and I want the evidence to match. Do I make myself clear?”

They saluted, and rushed into the house as she was putting you in the back seat of a black car. “Take us to headquarters.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Turns out, that woman was a retired hero, who had moved into admin at Defendor’s agency. She kept you close to her for the next few weeks as the press tried to get to you. You saw her as protecting you. That she was keeping the vultures away… When it would come on television, she would turn it off. You thought she was protecting you from having to hear about your parents’ tragedy. She took you daily to a child psychologist, making sure you were stable mentally, and able to process what happened. You thought she was being kind. She was retired, but she was your Hero for now… when Defendor had failed you.

It took almost a year for the story to eventually fade into the back of people’s minds. For you and your parents to be forgotten… and that was when Alise decided you no longer needed her, and turned you over to the state. The foster system didn’t do therapy, or protect you from prying questions, they just placed you where they could, and told you good luck.

You step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your short, black hair, and wipe off the mirror. You pick up a necklace, putting it back in its proper place around your neck. It’s a small obsidian broach with a gold chain. Unassuming, quaint even. Your mother had gifted this to you before she died. It was her prototype. A small switch on the back of the broach turned it on or off. You usually keep it turned on, unless you’re working. You smirk slightly at the memory of the stupid boy in your first foster home who thought he’d take it to bully you. The state was shocked to realize you had Abilities, and you were quickly moved. Your file was marked ahead of time for your subsequent foster families afterwards to never try to separate you from your necklace. You were put into special classes at school to learn your Ability, and as you turned 9, a number of agencies approached you, both hero, and villain.

Part of you seriously considered the villain route. It wasn’t like Heroes held any value to you… if anything, they could be considered more selfish and self centered than a number of the Villains who offered you an apprenticeship, but you have an undeniable stubborn streak, and chose to become a Hero when you turned 15, and signed an agency to become a sidekick.

Defendor had retired when you were 11, disappearing quietly into the populace with his identity intact. No one knew who he was, so finding him as a civilian was something you’d given up on long ago. Hero agencies protected their employees after retirement, so, going after him would also land you a Villain designation, making you an available target for every Hero you’d pissed off over the years. Crimson Ax remained active, but he’d changed territories, moving further south to terrorize Ashwell. When he retired just before you could get your Hero’s License at 20 and go after him, it felt like fate had cheated you. Villain agencies were even more brutal in protecting their retirees, and he just vanished, right before you could get your hands on him… There would be no revenge.

Your memories float through your mind as you pour cream into your coffee. As an adult, you have one of the highest capture rates of any hero, and your agency pays you well for it. Between the trust and your salary, you can look out your penthouse apartment and view a good portion of the city below you, and even catch the sunset once in a while when you’re home. It was a peaceful existence. Lonely, but peaceful. You couldn’t bring yourself to date anyone, or even consider a family. You had too many enemies, and too many memories of what happens to families. Friends were few and far between for much the same reason. There was simply work, something you took seriously. You wouldn’t fail as a hero, and you wouldn’t put others at risk simply for knowing you.

A chirp from your phone catches your attention. Its a text message from the Agency:

“Hero, Obsidian, please report to Headquarters for briefing on your next assignment as soon as possible.”

This makes you raise an eyebrow. Usually the agency will send a text to let you know they emailed a file over their secure network for you to review. When you were called in for a briefing it usually meant this was a high profile case, or that you were going to have a partner… which you’ve specifically said you won’t do multiple times, but they just love when they can put you on a team of heroes to make them look good.

You sigh and change into your uniform: knee high armored boots, armored leggings, and an armored motorcycle jacket. You reach into your drawer and pull out a cowl, pulling it over your head to hide your face, tucking your short black hair up into it, and away from your eyes. On your way out the door you grab a black motorcycle helmet. You refuse to do the spandex thing.

The ride to the Agency is a relatively short one, especially when you can weave traffic at whatever speed you want. As a registered hero, you get away with a lot ‘in the name of justice.’

You park at a rundown noodle shop, pull off your helmet, and wave at the older woman serving up steaming bowls of ramen. She raises an eyebrow, “You got here fast.”

“Your text said ASAP.”

She eyes your bike the same way you imagine a judgemental aunt would, “I suppose that’s true. They’re waiting for you downstairs.”

You nod and continue to the back of the shop, moving carefully through the hot kitchen, carrying your helmet. Past the kitchen, in a pantry, was a set of stairs leading down into your personal hell.

In the sub basement is an elevator. You weigh your options of joining the two other heroes waiting for it, or taking the 40 flights of stairs down… Your practicality wins out, and you approach them.

“Hey, Obi. I rarely ever see you here.” The GOAT waves at you with a stupid grin on his goat shaped face. You often wonder how his mother reacted when his Ability manifested… or if he’d been born with it… and then you had more questions that you didn’t want to think of. You give him a raised hand of a wave, and stand quietly, hoping to avoid the conversation.

“Yea, what did they drag you in for? Another Alien invasion?” Anvil was one of those with a head as dense as his skin… practically made of iron.

“Didn’t say, just called me in.” You don’t like talking to these two… they were the definition of meat-heads, and they thought the world loved them.

“Well, I hope it’s another invasion, I’d love to get on another team. You know, my comics started selling almost double when we were teamed up that time.” Anvil nudged you with an elbow, trying to be friendly.

Sales and Royalties… how Heroes really made money, and why they signed to agencies. You needed a PR manager, a Products manager, Lawyers scarier than the Devil himself, and Insurances no one could afford in their wildest dreams.

Action figures, and figures in general were still some of the highest selling things. Some of the Heroes were also musical artists, or comedians, but rarely actors. No one wanted to see Romeo and Juliet performed by people in masks. Only the Heroes willing to give up their identities were really successful in their acting careers. You didn’t want that. You never removed your cowl. No one needed to know who you were, and who you’d like to hunt.

The elevator finally dinged and opened for them, putting a pause on the conversation as they filed into the metal box to go down 400 feet into the earth. When they closed, cheap elevator music began to fill the box as it squeaked and creaked its way down the dark shaft into the Lunchbox Heroes Headquarters.

“I heard something the other day, that they were pulling together some elites for something big. I wonder if you made the cut, Obi.” GOAT was not gonna let this go… was he…

“I’ll probably turn it down, I do 90% of the time.”

“If the risk is high enough, you won’t.” GOAT betrayed himself with that one. You look up into his animalistic eyes and spot it at the back, fear. When you agreed to team up with people, it meant the risk was real. It wasn’t something you’d ignore, and that worried him.

You raise an eyebrow at him as the elevator comes to a stop, and opens, filling with a few admin workers, some of them also masked, but most of them not. The three of you say no more on the topic, but you continue to watch GOAT as the elevator descends deeper, stopping again, where the worker bees got out, followed by GOAT and Anvil, “Good luck.” Anvil gives you a final wave as the doors shut, leaving you alone to go down to the deepest floor.

When you step off the Elevator, you're greeted with a locked door, and a retinal scanner. Your cowl doesn’t cover your eyes, so you lean down, and are granted access to the hallway beyond. Retinal scanners guaranteed the right people were allowed into the right places, and could be updated from a computer on one of the admin floors. Most days, you didn’t have access to this floor. You step into the concrete hallway, painted white, and approach the reception desk, your boots echoing on the hard floor. “Obsidian, reporting.”

The masked woman behind the desk looks down at a sheet, and finds your name, “Room 16, on the left.”

You thank her and head that direction. The briefing rooms were kept on lockdown because of the sensitive information shared. One time, you’d been left to wait nearly 4 hours between the arrivals of each person in a 5 part team, because the agency didn’t want the fact that you were teaming up to become known.

Room 16 looks identical to room 14 and room 18 on either side of it, or room 17 across from it. There was no way to tell what you were walking into. With a final deep breath, you open the door, prepared to be greeted by a group of young, overzealous heroes wanting desperately to work with you.

Instead, you’re greeted by Alise. Now much older, her blonde hair had gone gray, and her face sagged with age. But she stood just as straight and tall as ever, and still commanded a room with just her eyes. You’d only met with her a handful of times since joining the very agency that screwed you over all those years ago. You’d hoped someone, anyone would let slip where Defendor had retired to. Would give a hint as to who he was, what he was doing… but they never did.

“This must be good, for you to come down here yourself,” you scoff as you take a seat at the table before her. The room was arranged like a lecture hall, with a screen at the front for briefing information, and a desk in front of you to take whatever notes you wanted, or to lay out the files in front of you.

“I believed this was a briefing best delivered personally.”

“Is anyone else coming?”

“They should be here shortly.” She sat on a stool at the front of the room, “How have you been?”

“You read my reports.”

“They’re very thorough. I appreciate the dedication to detail.” She tapped the file in front of her, clearly the file in question for today. “But your reports don’t tell me how you are, aside from physically.”

“I pass every psych eval I’m given,” you frown behind your mask, “Why are you prying?”

“You’ll be taking another eval before you leave today.”

Bitching about them never did you any good, so you just cross your arms. “Tell me why.”

It was then that the door behind you opened again, and four men in suits entered, escorting an older man in a blue spandex suit with a red cape, and a red mask… Defendor. He had to be in his 50’s at this point. You could see his red hair had begun to turn white, and he’d clearly gained weight… Spandex was never kind. You didn’t take your eyes off him as he was escorted to a seat at the table next to you. He paused at pulling out the chair next to you, instead moving two seats down, and sitting there.

Alise stood up and took a deep breath, “I am aware that this is going to be an interesting situation for you, Obsidian, but I want you to hear me out, to the end, before you say anything.”

Your eyes snap to her as rage begins to well up in your body. You were conflicted on your choice of still having your broach switched to ‘off.’

The older woman picked up a remote, and turned on the screen behind her, “Crimson Ax has returned, and is wreaking havoc in Oakham. It looks like he has a sidekick now too, someone we haven’t seen before, but it appears she’s an Iron-Skinned type.” Pictures of Crimson Ax and his new protoge flick past your eyes. He still wore the red armor and helmet. She wore similar armor, but didn’t have any missing appendages. She just carried her own ax.

“Does she have a name yet?” You hear your voice leave your throat, but it doesn’t feel like you speaking. You hold your hand out for a file, but don’t feel in control of your own body as you flip it open to find her name at the top of a sheet, “Chopper? She calls herself The Crimson Chopper?!”

“They’ve victimized 4 banks, 3 drug stores, and 6 families in the last 3 days.” Alise’s voice was flat, just providing facts, no opinions. “Crimson has taken out every Hero he’s ever nemesized, except Defendor.”

Your eyes shot to the silent man next to you, and your lip curled, “Sure, because he ran away before he could get killed.”

The disgraced hero just stared into his lap, saying nothing.

“Defendor retired.”

“Was pushed into retirement.” you correct her, still glaring the failed hero down, “What hero, still in perfect health, with an active nemesis, would willingly retire of his own accord?”

Defendor’s wince only confirmed your suspicions.

“How many times did the Agency have to cover up your cowardice?” You growl through grinding teeth.

“Obsidian.” Alise smacked her hand on the desk, breaking your eye contact on him, “Your involvement in this case was requested by me. Do not make me regret that choice. Or I will go get Valkyrie right now.”

You quell yourself and sit back into your chair, “I won’t work with him.”

“You will, because to get close to them, you’ll need to change uniforms.” Alise hit the controller and revealed two uniforms, matching. Blue armored leather suits, one with a red cape, the other with a red skirt. What flair… yours at least came with another cowl, your identity clause required that much. 

“What the fuck are those?” you ask, already knowing the answer, but wanting to release your indignity in some fashion.

“Defendor has returned from retirement to take on the Crimson Ax once more, and his new sidekick, Thundera, will be assisting him.” Alise was not backing down on her plan. “We need Crimson to come to you, on your terms, and he’s only going to be baited by this. Once he follows the two of you into an ambush, coordinated with the Agency, we will drop an entire league of heroes on him at once.”

“Call Valkyrie, I’ll just join the ambush,” you close the file and shove it across the table back towards her.

Alise pinched the bridge of her nose, “She’s harder to disguise as a sidekick.”

“You mean her ego won’t fit in the costume.”

“I’m beginning to question if yours will.” Alise frowns at you. “I need someone who can handle two iron-skins coming at them at once, and hold their own, and potentially defend others. Is that you? Or is that someone else?”

You scoff, “Potentially defend others… you want me to protect him,” you thumb in Defendor’s direction, “May as well change his name to ‘Defended’ while you’re at it.”

“Sending you in as his sidekick, they won’t see you coming.”

You take the file, glaring at her, “I don’t promise they’ll make it to the ambush.”

“I know that.”

You have a reputation for bringing back your villains in a body bag.

“Do… Do I have to do this? Don’t you have someone… active? Who could just… wear the name?” He spoke… for the first time he spoke, and you turned again to glare at him.

“You don’t think Crimson would know if it’s you or not?” Alise crossed her arms, “You owe this to the agency, at the very least.”

He melted into himself and you sneered, contemplating on how well you’d actually defend the great Defendor when the two of you found your quarry.

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

A/N: shameless self plug, but if you'd like to read this in a PDF format, I'll be adding it to my Ko-Fi for $0.10, and I'll take suggestions on where else to post it.

[dxwnfxll]

How would Clef,Bright,Glass and Gears would react if the child!reader is just immune to anomalous effects or reality bending, heck let's even go with the amnestics. But also somehow able to make sentient scps somehow tolerate or get along with them to not kill them? Reader is a little shit and uses it to fuck with everyone or give people heart attacks and also has no sense of danger.

LMAO here's your request !

Also very sorry for the time you've haf to wait for this !! I've just had writers block while I've been preparing for art fight lolol

(As always Bright/Shaw replaced by Amar)

PLATONIC !!

••Amar••

-Alright so Amar was assigned to you out of no where, she had been working with 049 at the time (more like slacking off though) when they got a new file put on their desk.

- 'SCP [chosen number], this SCP has the ability to remain immune towards many different SCP effects, the child also seems to be able to bend reality'

-at first Amar thought it was a mistake cause like?? Why would they put her on a team to work with some reality bending child? No one thought they'd try to make the kid turn the walls into candy? Or 343 forbid if Ambrose asked the kid to make another santa so there'd be twice as many presents.

-Hell the first day he went to work with the group she could feel the eyes of everyone on them.

-Eventually the group shrunk though, less and less people on the team till eventually it was just Amar. And for once Amar took their job seriously, he didn't know why really but she just enjoyed spending time with you and wanted to continue to do so

-you reminded him of TJ by a lot, maybe it was her missing TJ or maybe it was them liking how you looked up to him. After all you two always did pranks together and somehow always got away with it, or well at least you did. Somehow the 05 would find out Ambrose was at least involved.

-she laughs whenever you mess with someone, and you can't ever really spook Amar. Very rare occasions though you startle them and she has a good laugh afterwards

-and of course whenever he has their crazy ideas (cough cough making an entire super hero team, fight club etc) you're always involved since you never play fair.

-You and Amar get along fan-fucking-tastically as Amar would put it, hell pretty sure it she could they'd adopt you already.

••Clef••

-So Clef, oh boy.

-Clef had (similar to Amar) been assigned to you out of no where. Coming back with a bloody ukulele after beating the [REDACTED INFORMATION] he found a file on his desk with your number on it.

-he had already heard of you and wasn't exactly over the moon to be dealing with another reality bender, in fact he already had a distaste for you.

-that's right sadly Mr ukulele doesn't like you and probably never will. He hates 239 and he hates you to.

-A week into him becoming your lead researcher and he already went to the 05 asking for your termination or to find someway to terminate you.

-Which of fucking course they denied every time he asked.

-He gets annoyed by you easily especially with you being the little shit that you are, he also deep down fears you, fears what you could do, so sadly you two never get along.

••Glass••

-Dr Glass had been assigned to you out of no where, he was a little shocked he had been assigned to an SCP that had feelings, a mind, etc. The foundation had after all tore him a new one for getting attached to the last sentient SCP he was assigned to.

-And just like the other sentient SCPs he had been assigned to in the past, he grew attached and felt awful for you. You were just a child who didn't ask to he what you were, you were just a child who should be going to school making friends growing up with parents. But instead you're stuck in a containment cell never able to see the light and watching strangers poke and prod at your abilities.

-He always snuck in stuff for you that he thought you'd like, chocolate, little toys, and some crayons with paper. He'd always get reprimanded by the others but he didn't seem to care, in his head he was doing a good thing.

-He didn't mind you being a little shit, he felt bad and thought it was your way of expressing yourself. Expressing the pain you were probably going through. You were probably scared and knew this behavior as the only way to show it.

-He always tried to stand up for you, every mistake you made, every time you escaped containment. But the 05 eventually began to listen less and less until finally you had a new lead researcher and Dr. Glass was once again not trusted around sentient scps.

••Gears••

-Finally Gears. Not much to say with him, He's a numb old man with 0 emotions towards really anything.

-Anything you do whether big or small he just kinda blinks at, if you were to take his clipboard and break it he wouldn't even bat an eye. If you were to hug him not even a small smile would crack.

-He does his job, he doesn't form an attachment or anything to you. He treats you like every other SCP, a job to be done. A task to be checked off.

-He does speak highly about your abilities to being immune to a majority of other SCPs and even suggested some tests to be done on you.

-He's not afraid of your destructive behavior either, if you start being a little shit he just calls the MTF and lets them deal with you.

-no relationship formed between y'all, He's completely neutral with you.

Hope you enjoyed! And sorry for the late response to this!!

Have a lovely day!

[somanyfuckedupiftruebooks]

Mag 59

You'd think so, wouldn't you? But no.

Given the Entities propensity for hiding in the fringes of reality, I'm betting a lot of statement-givers feel like this. It's probably a big part of the reason why so many of them come to the Institute (aside from being called there by the Eye). If there's no official record of what happened to them, then maybe the best thing to do is give a statement and get something in writing, with the potential for some independent verification by supposedly qualified researchers.

I've been trying to keep track of how different people describe the Web's influence, to better be able to spot when someone is being compelled. Here we've got a general dulling of destructive urges, dissociative states/out of body experiences, lack of decision-making capacity, and last but not least the strings.

I didn't save a screenshot of it for some reason, but it's also notable that apparently all the kids in the Web house are smokers.

Hilarious that the Web avatar who is powerful enough to constantly control an entire home full of children just makes them take care of themselves properly. Horrifying that he only does this so that they'll be healthy hosts for all his spider babies.

Web table web table web table.

There's still so much mystery surrounding this thing. Where did it come from? This is the earliest mention of it chronologically (as far as I remember) and the only time it's ever whole. Seems like at some point after this Agnes took the apple/spider box out of the middle and buried it in the yard outside (don't remember why, if we ever even learn), and at some point after that the table ended up with Adelard Dekker, who used it to bind the NotThem. There's so many holes in that story.

A bit spooky, but staggeringly normal for a living embodiment of dying in a fire. I also clocked this the first time she was mentioned, but Agnes has brown hair as a kid. Does she later dye her hair red, or has the entire fandom collectively just decided to ignore canon and exclusively depict her as a redhead?

The Lightless Flame sent Agnes to Raymond because they couldn't control her and they were hoping the Web could do a better job, but he was terrified of her. I was a little surprised she didn't immediately burn the entire house down, but honestly why would she? She basically runs this place from the moment she sets foot inside. It's probably such a relief to get away from her weird cult guardians that she's fine with just staying here forever. Plus she gets to mess with the Web's schemes as much as she wants.

This implies that Agnes isn't just scorching hot to the touch all the time, but she has some degree of choice over whether or not she burns someone. At least she did as a child, but it's possible her powers grow beyond her ability to control as she got older. Or she just chose to burn Jack on purpose I guess.

Again, Web compulsion manifesting as a simple absence of the ability to make choices, but this time with an awareness and undercurrent of fear.

[bearsinpotatosacks]

A Smile Through the Clouds

Nick and Ron stumble into Carole's life like a blue sky on a dark day.

Or

5 Times Nick, Ron and Carole bump into each other + 1 Time They Intend to See Each Other

Words: 6501

1

Afternoon sun peeked over the rows of bookshelves. It hit the trees outside on campus and reflected on the windows of nearby buildings. Soon the sun was sinking below them, then now the horizon, trailing pastel colours as the evening set in. 

Ron pulled on his arm as they left the library. It was only the start of the year but Nick was determined to get started early with his studies. They'd spent the few free hours they had together in the library, and were heading off for pizza after a long time of rewriting notes and researching to get ahead on assignments.

"Gimme a second," Nick said, opening his bag. "I've got to return this book."

Ron rolled his eyes, "Nicky, baby, you've already dragged me here for over two hours when it's only the second week of class, I do not want to spend another second here if I have to."

He tried to keep up the vague look of disgust he wore on his face but burst into laughter when Nick batted his eyelashes at him. Letting go of his arm, he told him he'd wait outside and not to take too long before promptly leaving the stuffy library.

There was a short queue at the counter. There was a machine free but some part of him decided today was a good day to actually talk to somone. 

And he was glad he did, because the person staffing this station took his breath away. Her hair was short, choppy and platinum blonde, curling around her ears. She smiled as she waved off the previous person, her blue eyes sparkling from the beams of light coming in through the windows and lighting up the dust in the air. A hand-knitted jumper, with flowers on, hung off her arms as she pulled the cuffs over her hands.

"Hi, what can I do for you today?" She said.

And with just a sentence, every thought he'd ever had left his mind. His hands went clammy around the book. He couldn’t remember what he was doing here at all. All he could focus on was the dimples in her cheeks as she smiled.

"Are you okay?" Her brow creased with concern. "Do I need to get someone for you?"

"I-I'm alright."

His eyes flicked down to her name badge. Carole. What a beautiful name. A song he'd happily hum for the rest of time. Dear lord, what was wrong with him? He was with Ron, had been for eighteen months now, was he growing a wandering eye?

"You sure? Your face is all red."

She was right, he realised. His face felt hot. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and sweat forming on his brow.

"Fine, fine, really," 

He tried to give a charming smile but knew it came out goofy. She didn't seem to mind this, giggling at his foolishness. Her laughter made his face burn hotter.

"So, what can I do for ya?"

He jolted awake again, looking down at the book in his hands, that's what he was going to do. How long had he been standing here again? It felt like it had been an eternity. Which meant that Ron had been waiting for a long time too, but turning back to her again made his brain short circuit and all ability to speak was lost.

"I wanted to, erm, return this, erm, book," he slid it over to her on the counter. 

"Well, that I can certainly do,"

He laughed again and leant on the counter. He needed the support, his legs had turned to jelly.

"Nick!" Came a shout from the door, followed immediately by a harsh shush. "I told you not to take too long and you've been five minutes."

He felt him come to his side, "How long does it take to return a book-"

Nick pulled his eyes from Carole to look at Ron. He too had frozen but instead of becoming a blubbering mess, his face broke into that charming smile that made his knees go even weaker than they already had. The same damn smile that charmed him the first time they met.

"Hello, I don't think I've had the wonderful opportunity of making your acquaintance," he extended a hand. "I'm Ron, and you are?"

She took it, hiding her blushing face with her other hand, "I'm Carole."

"Like the Christmas song?"

"Yup, like the Christmas song," she nodded. "But with an e on the end."

"Well, Carole with an e, I'm sorry if my boyfriend has been bothering you, he's damn cute but damn annoying too."

Nick, suddenly gaining his autonomy back, elbowed him in the ribs and rolled his eyes.

"I'm funny, not annoying,' he said. "You just have no sense of humour."

"The way he treats me?" Ron joked, looking at Carole again. "Could you be a doll and return that book? We have a pizza date to get to."

Upon being called doll, Carole's face went from a dainty shade of pink to a deep red. Her eyes widened and Ron looked impeccably more proud of himself.

"I can't have you two missing out on pizza," she squeaked out.

She placed the book somewhere underneath the counter and scribbled something down. She looked back up at them with some of the redness from her cheeks gone. 

"There we go, have a nice day,"

Ron linked arms with Nick and pulled him upright, "We will, you be sure to have a great day too," he said.

They turned to leave. Nick’s face was still burning. Ron pulled them back at the last minute.

"Oh, and we'll be sure to come back again," he added with a wink. 

They turned back to the door, just catching a glimpse of Carole's face rushing red again before they were in the late afternoon air. As they walked further away from the library, Nick grew able to think and speak again. Carole was still on his mind, and by the look on Ron's face as they walked in silence, she was on his too.

"She was the prettiest girl I think I've ever seen," Nick blurted as they left the campus.

"Yeah, she really was," Ron said.

A sheepish smile flicked on his face. It had a light glow to it. It could be from the cold but Nick knew better.

2

A few days later, on a fresh Monday morning, the peace of the library was once again distributed. Carole was still rubbing sleep from her eyes, while trying not to smudge her eyeliner, when those two silly yet undoubtedly pretty boys glided in, already caught in a whispering argument.

"I'm just saying that all of this could've been avoided if we just gave back the extra coffee," Ron said.

"But it's extra coffee, Ronald," Goose argued.

"Yeah, an extra coffee that we didn't need and are now arguing over," 

They stopped near her desk. A fog filled her brain as they met eyes, and not from fatigue. The book in her hands weighed her down as she followed them, hoping they'd stop to talk.

They'd been on her mind ever since they waltzed into her life. She wanted to see if the glimmer in Nick’s eyes was real and if Ron's smile sparkled or if she'd added them afterwards. Part of her was enamoured with them, maybe developing a crush, but the other was reminding her that Ron said Nick was his boyfriend, and her heart sank.

Breaking through the fog, she met their eyes and something within her cleared. Nick waved at her, dragging Ron with him. Ron still looked disgruntled but some amusement read in his face.

"Hey, Carole," Nick said.

"Hi Nicky,"

She widened her eyes. Nicky? She'd spoken to him once and already had a nickname. Her face flushed and her hands grew clammy.

Nick had frozen. His smile was still on his face. Ron looked from him to her. Annoyance was steadily replaced with humour as he tried not to laugh.

"Sorry, I meant to say-" she started

Nick stopped her, "Nicky," he pondered. "I like that."

She gulped. He lent on the desk with that goofy smile and one hand on his hip. Something fluttered within her. Her brain felt like it was melting. How could two guys turn her brain to mush? Yet, just as she threatened to zone out completely, Ron slammed down three coffee cups, breaking her brain fog. 

"Maybe you can solve our dilemma," he said. "We got coffee to go, but the barista got our orders mixed up and now we have an extra cappuccino that we have no idea what to do with."

She flicked between the coffee, Ron and Nick. Nick’s face was still shining that goofy smile but his eyes made him seem like he was in a trance. By the way Ron's brow was furrowed, he made it seem like this coffee dilemma was life or death.

"Well, I like cappuccinos," she said simply.

They both darted up like they'd never considered that to be an option. Ron picked up the cup and raised an eyebrow at Nick. They nodded. Silent communication through a look. She wished she was part of that.

"Okay, then," he slid the coffee across the counter and winked. "Enjoy your coffee, babygirl."

Her face flushed warm again, "I-I will," she squeaked.

"It really is great coffee," Nick said 

He pushed off the counter, giving her a brief wave as she collected herself for the next person. Those silly boys, making her a blushing mess. 

She took a sip of coffee. It was good.

3

It was a sweet day, the sun glimmered on the grass as she walked past the park. Another day, another shift. She did like her job as a library assistant, it helped her with her studies. Plenty of books surrounding her and people to help. 

Nick and Ron made the days easier too. They'd fallen into some sort of routine after a few weeks of flirting. They came in in the afternoon most days, studied together before hurrying off somewhere else. They'd also gotten used to bringing her coffee and would somehow find her in the labyrinth of shelves just to deliver it.

Caught in her own world, something hit her ankle and broke her out of it. She looked down and saw an orange, slightly dirty, basketball. Then the slapping sound of shoes on concrete came towards her and her breath was taken away.

Nick and Ron, both sweaty, panting and glittering in the sunlight. Nick wore a muscle tee, a vibrant print on the front, with shorts that were just short enough to show a bit more of his long legs. Ron was topless, in baggy shorts, his chiselled chest heaving as he got his breath back.

"Hey Carole," Nick said. "You got our ball."

She gulped, breaking herself out of the lust filled trance she was in to hand him back the ball. Nick grinned at her, holding it under his arm and slouching where he stood.

"You're playing basketball, then?" She asked.

Ron nodded, still getting his breath back, "Yeah, Nick’s shirts, I'm skins."

A bead of sweat rolled from his neck and over one of his pectoral muscles. The sheen of sweat he was covered in danced in the sunlight as he moved. 

Forcing her eyes from his bulging muscles, she laughed weakly to herself, "You're not on the same team?"

"Nah, me and Pete are too damn good for us not to play together," Nick waved at a shorter guy on the basketball court. "That's him, my flatmate."

"And that other guy? With the frosted tips?"

Ron stood up fully, "Oh that's Tom, my roommate, we are also a great team, arguably better than Nick’s."

Nick squinted at him, "Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Kerner."

"I will, Bradshaw."

They stared for a few moments longer. Carole had to fight not to go into a trance and just ogle them some more. It was an interesting battle. One side of her wanted to desperately take in every detail, breathe them, and their long legs, stupidly good hair and charming smiles, in. The other wanted to be aware of every moment, she didn't want to miss a thing.

"Wait," she said as her eyes fell on Tom in the background. "He looks familiar."

"Who? Tom?"

She nodded. Even though his face was blurry in the background, something about him sparked recollection in her mind.

Then it hit her, "Oh, he’s in my book club!"

They looked from Tom and back to her. She couldn't stop the small smile on her face.

"Huh," Nick said after a few moments. "I guess we have more in common than I thought."

She nodded. Her shift was going to start soon, she couldn’t be late even if the thought of watching those two competitively play basketball was deliciously enticing.

"Goose! Come on, man, stop flirting!" Pete called from the court.

He scratched the back of his head, "I guess that's our cue to go,"

"I should too, don't want to be late," she said. "But I'll see you soon, yeah?"

Ron nodded furiously, "Course, we have that assignment-"

He looked at Nick. Nick didn't pick up on what he was inferring. He elbowed him in the ribs, getting a slight 'ow' before he clocked on.

"Oh! That assignment, I remember now," he winked at Ron, who facepalmed with a sigh. "We'll probably be there for hours."

"Oh, hours, huh?"

"Yeah, so you'll see plenty of us,"

"I'll look forward to it,"

She winked at them and sauntered off. Today was going to be a very good day now she had the images of them in her mind.

4

Carole left the library with a hesitant step. She peered up at the thick grey clouds above and held out a hand. Weighty rain drops splashed on her hand. There was a storm brewing, and she had no umbrella and no coat. That was the dread of autumn, the weather became unpredictable.

Perhaps she could use her bag and run? Or maybe just suck it up and walk in the rain. She shivered at the latter option.

She frowned. Today hadn't been the best day either. Her lecturer had been late, for a start. The assignment she'd worked so hard on, declining going out with friends and becoming so stuck in her books she had started to taste the words, had the date extended so she didn't need to put in all that effort over three days.

Her shift at the library hadn't been much better. A few of the library's patrons were beyond rude to her, with one particularly mean person making her shed a few tears as she returned books to the shelves deep in the library. People complained about the noise and the amount of people as if she could click her fingers and make them all disappear.

And worse of all, there had been no sign of Nick and Ron. She hadn't seen them since they came in after their basketball game. She hadn't realised how much they made her day until she hadn't seen them in a few days.

With a huff, she walked out into the dreary weather. All she wanted was to curl up at home in the warmth, but it was a long walk to get there.

In her own little world, she didn't hear two people calling her name but let out a yelp when her two giants were suddenly by her side.

"Hey, Carole," Nick said. "Want to share our umbrella?"

She grinned and felt a wave of relief when the rain stopped hitting her head. The darkish walk home didn't seem so daunting now she had company.

"Where are you two going in this weather?" She asked.

"Volleyball practice," Ron said.

"Volleyball? I thought you played basketball?"

He shook his head, "That was just for fun, this is serious."

His face was stone cold for a second but softened at her confusion. His hand made its way to her lower back as they hurried on in the rain. Nick’s joined too. It could be seen as possessive, or overstepping a boundary, but she trusted them. This felt protective, warm and cosy. Two tall men surrounding her made her knees go weak.

She came to a fork in the road. She was going right, off campus and away to her apartment. They'd be going left, the sports buildings were a good ten minutes away.

"I'm going this way," she pointed down the road.

They withdrew their hands and the brief reprieve in the gloom of the day ended. She still had to walk home in the rain, without them to keep her company.

"Good luck at your practice," she said and began to walk away.

As the first drops fell on her head again, she deflated and hunched over as she walked. Her arms hugged her lithe frame.

"Wait!" Nick called, running after her. "You'll need this."

He handed her their umbrella. His hair began to plaster against his head as his smile shone sun through the grey clouds. 

"Are you sure?"

He nodded vigorously, "Of course, we'll need to get changed anyway."

Her hand gripped the handle of the umbrella as Nick’s smile spread to her. She glanced at Ron who looked miserable in the rain but proud of Nick. He reminded her of a wet kitten.

"Get home safe," he called through the weather.

"I will, thanks for the umbrella." 

She waved as they separated. Their figures getting smaller as her hope that this crush could be reciprocated grew larger.

5

Ron huffed and lent back on his chair. This library was too quiet. He could hear a clock ticking in the background. Rustling paper and the sighs of the other students made it too hard to concentrate. He was sick of his music too, it was too loud and exciting, and anything slower just put him to sleep.

The words on the page all blended together into a sea of black ink. His brain felt dry, like mush. He couldn’t concentrate on his equations anymore.

Nick’s face was almost pressed to the page. Concentration was laced on his face. He'd been stuck on that problem for a while and had finally figured it out. But this also meant that now he was on a roll, he probably didn't want to be disturbed.

That didn't mean Ron wasn't bored, though.

"How you doing with your problem?" He asked.

Nick didn't look up from the page, "Good, halfway through."

Ron hummed and leant forward again so the front two legs of the chair smacked against the floor. He clicked his pen on, then off and on until he was doing it on a reflex. 

Nick’s head rose up from his page. His brow was furrowed and his moustache twitched. 

Ron put the pen down, "Sorry."

Nick returned to busily scratching on the page. Ron's gaze drifted to someone scrunched up on an armchair. Their face was covered by a large book, the title of which he couldn't make out.

He could never understand how someone could get so engrossed in a book. There were no pictures, so many words which left everything up to too much interpretation. He just couldn’t focus on one, couldn't settle down long enough to fully lose himself in a novel.

Boredom kicked back in quickly. He lay his head on his books and groaned. 

Nick’s left hand rested on the desk next to him. Ron stroked the back of it, the protruding knuckles and bumpy veins. His foot rubbed his. He ran his foot up his calf. Perhaps they could call all this studying a day and go back to his place to have some real fun. Tom would be out, they'd have the place to themselves, for once.

Nick pulled his hand away, "Why don't you take a break for a second? Maybe get me a coffee," he then added while batting his eyelashes. "Please."

He smiled, holding back the itch to get back to work. Ron lifted his hand to his lips and got up. His chair screeched across the floor and made some heads turn his way.

They were on the second floor. It was a mezzanine floor, with a glass railing that overlooked the rows of pine bookshelves that matched the pine panelling on the walls. The help desk was circular, and a familiar crop of blonde hair near the front and suddenly he wasn't bored.

Hopping down the stairs, he almost ran to talk to her. There was a queue when he got there, not too long but enough to agitate him. He tapped his foot, trying to keep a hold of the excitement he felt when he saw her. 

They met eyes as he stretched to look at her. She beamed at him, holding up one finger to say 'I won't be long'. Once he reached the front, he lent on the counter and sighed.

"Hey, Ron, how can I help?" She said.

"Well, I'm looking for a book," he replied nonchalantly.

"I may be able to help you with that."

He tilted his head, his smile coy, "Do you have any books on charming pretty girls?"

She opened and closed her mouth. A rosy tint glowed within her face.

"I-I don't think we have any books on that," she stammered. "But I think I could give you some tips."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Like what, then?"

She laughed, "Well, calling girls you like pretty is a start."

"Noted," he said with a smirk. "What else?"

"Getting them coffee, giving them your umbrella, walking with them in the rain,"

Part of him tingled. This meant she liked them, right? He hoped so. He and Nick had spent a few nights pining over her. Sometimes drunk, sometimes sober. 

"Flowers are a good shot," she traced a line across the table. "Going out for drinks could be a good idea."

He lent closer. Their foreheads almost touched. The air tingled around them as the world seemed to stop turning.

"Drinks do sound good. You free Friday?"

She looked away, faking pondering her calender, "Yes, I suppose I am, what time were you thinking, and where?"

"Say eight, at the O-Club in town?"

She giggled, "It's a date."

He took her hand and kissed it. Her face grew more red. The blues of her eyes sparkled, flashing deep colours as she froze.

"That it is, babygirl." 

He winked and walked away, hopping back up the stairs. Nick's head darted up expectantly.

"No coffee," he pouted.

Ron slammed his hands on the desk. His blood was racing. A smile he couldn't shake was plastered on his face.

"Coffee doesn't matter," he said. "We have a date."

+1

Nighttime was ready in the air. Stars blinked as bright as they could through the lights of the city. Cars bustled past as she hurried to the O-Club.

The O-Club was the new hip bar in town. It was just close enough to campus that students were often its patrons but not too close that it was considered a student bar. She had no idea what the 'O' meant in O-Club meant, either. All she knew was that their music was good and their cocktails were fire. 

Approaching the bar, she saw two familiar figures hanging around outside the doors. Nick was wearing an even more vibrant shirt than he usually did. His moustache was combed and shoes spotless. Ron wore a baggy muscle tee with a band logo she didn't recognise underneath a shiny leather jacket, with jeans and chunky boots. 

She waved at them and quickened her pace, her shoes clip-clopping as she ran to them. Her heart began to race. They looked so good, good enough to eat.

"Hi," she said, slightly out of breath.

"Hi," Nick replied. "We got you some flowers."

He handed her a medium sized bouquet of roses. The thorns had been clipped off so she could hold them safely in her hand. 

"You do like roses, don't you?" Ron asked.

He scratched the back of his neck and looked away. He'd never seemed sheepish before. There was a confident security about him that she liked. Coupled with Nick’s bubblegum attitude, she felt drawn to the security they exuded. 

She sniffed them, "I love them, thank you."

"Should we go in, then?" Nick said.

She nodded and felt his hand on her lower back. Ron's arm lay casually across her shoulders as they guided her to the door. It made her feel deliciously secure.

Blue lighting made it hard to see at first but, once her eyes adjusted slightly, she saw the hustle and bustle of people. The bar was full of people ordering, the stools full of people shouting over the music. Bartenders swung bottles around and poured out cocktails. Tables grew emptier the further from the dancefloor they got. Two people were butchering Greased Lighting on karaoke. 

They spotted a free table far off and made their way there. She sat with her back to the wall so she could see the whole room. 

"So-" she started, picking up the drinks menu. "How's both of your days' been?"

Nick peaked over her shoulder, resting his chin there, "Good, had two lectures this morning, studied for a bit at home, went to Volleyball practice and did some piano lessons."

She spiked up. He jolted up too, rubbing his jaw from where she'd knocked him from her shoulder.

"You play the piano?" She asked.

Ron, who'd been scanning the menu while stealing glances at them, spoke up, "Just wait until he's had a bit to drink, he'll find a piano and will take requests."

She looked at Nick. He had a proud smile that made her want to squish him. She wanted to squish both of them, hold them in the night, show them she loved them. 

"I do love a good sing song," she said. "And playing piano must make you good with your fingers."

His eyes widened with his smile. A cheeky glint sparkled in his brown eyes.

"We'll have to find out."

She inched her face closer to him. His lips looked plump and the urge to kiss him grew stronger.

"That we will."

Ron rolled his eyes and slid closer to her, breaking her out of her spell, "How's your day been?"

She turned to him and saw how close he was. His teeth were shiny under the blue light. The whites of his eyes popped and glittered as his head moved.

"Good, went to a lecture, studied, went to my shift at the library, put books away, answered questions, looked up said questions, organised book clubs and meetups, did some paperwork, the usual," she said, then added, giggling to herself. "Thinking of tonight helped, though, thinking of you too always gets me through, seeing you two is even better."

Nick sat closer to her back. She was surrounded by them and could smell their aftershave mixing together in the air. But, her excitement grew over her urge to fall into them with hooded eyes.

"I guess I've got to ask you the usual questions for a date," she said as she tried to get the attention of one of the waiting staff.

"What are the usual questions?" Ron asked.

"Oh, you know, family, work, exes, agonising trauma that you play off for laughs, childhood, the usual,"

He raised an eyebrow, "What was that?"

"Childhood?"

"No-" he furrowed his brow. "That other one, the trauma one?"

She giggled and smiled at the waitress as she approached their table. For a second, she saw both of the boys zone out. Nick let out a slow smile and Ron halted in his confusion.

"I was just messing with you," she scanned the menu again. "Trauma sharing's a second date activity."

Ron was left gaping his mouth like a fish. She saw him mouth 'Touché' to himself as she pondered whether to have a pornstar martini or a piña colada.

"Hello, welcome to the O-Club, what drinks can I get you today?" The waitress said in a fake gleeful voice. 

Carole held a finger on the menu, "I will have-" she took a moment to think. "A pornstar martini, please."

"Ooo, me too, I'll have one of those," Nick said.

They looked over to Ron. Nick had rested his head on her shoulder again. He hadn't stopped smiling since she'd got here. It made her heart flutter, and by the look on Ron's face, it made his heart miss a beat too.

"I'll just have a budweiser," 

The waitress nodded and walked away. They watched her go before Nick started booing him.

"You're no fun sometimes Ronnie."

"I'm plenty fun, just don't like over expensive, sugar-loaded drinks,"

"They're not that expensive," Nick rolled his eyes. "Plus I like the taste, so-"

He stuck his tongue out. Ron gave up on his argument, instead picking up his hand and laying a kiss on the knuckles. Nick’s face blew up red. Carole's stomach churned. This was a private moment, one she didn't feel qualified to be a part of. Yet, she was. They had invited her and it made her feel glorious.

Nick shook his head to try and stop himself from being too flustered. He turned back to Carole. His eyes were sparkly.

"So, we were going to talk about family?"

"Oh! Yeah." She sat up and back. "Well, I was born in Texas, a middle-sized town, I'm a middle child, got an older sister who's way more mature than I am and a younger brother that's way less, I moved here for college just so I could get a chance to go somewhere else other than home."

Their drinks arrived. Ron handed over the money, with a decent tip, and turned back to her. 

Carole looked at Nick, "What about you?"

"Not much different, grew up in Tennessee, church choir, little cherub of a child," he said. "I've got a younger sister, a mom-"

He paused and swirled his drink, "-and a dad."

There was a confusing look all over his face. She couldn't read it. But by how serious it was, she daren't ask. 

"He, er, he died when I was thirteen, we weren't on the best terms before he died so it's a bit complicated,"

She placed her hand on his and squeezed it. Glancing under the table, she saw Ron pat his thigh. He smiled and took a long sip of his drink. Some of the egg whites from the cocktail got caught in his moustache.

"Ron doesn't have a good relationship with his dad either,"

He scoffed, "I haven't got any relationship with my dad, he's a piece of shit who walked out on me, my mom and my four sisters over and over again, and after he knees your mom in the stomach while she's pregnant with your baby sister you don't forgive very easily."

She gripped his hand too. Her relationship with her dad was pretty good. He was a bit protective, and would surely have something to say about her dating two guys, but she knew he just wanted the best for her.

"That sounds horrible, I'm sorry."

"Hey, don't apologise to me, he never hurt me," 

Nick scooched them closer, "Not physically."

Ron sniffed and took a long swig of his beer. Beads of condensation dripped down the bottle, his hands were slick from it.

"Anyway, didn't we say trauma sharing was a second date thing."

She laughed and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, "Yeah, we did, didn't we?"

The bar got more and more full. Karaoke had ended and music started pounding as people collected on the dance floor. She hummed one of the songs and took a sip of her drink, a great choice.

After a moment of silence, mainly of her taking advantage of her perfect view of both of the boys, the conversation started up again.

"What are your majors, then?" She asked.

"Me and Ronnie both do physics, we met because he asked me for a pen, we got talking about notes, told me about Volleyball tryouts, and we just hit it off from there." Nick said. "What about you?"

"Literature,"

"It must help to work in a library, then," he retorted.

"Yeah, you'd think so, but it's a lot more organising and developing a thick skin from rude patrons than reading books," she said, then added. "That's why I like my book club."

"Oh yeah-" Ron pointed a finger at her. "I mentioned you to Tom and he does know you."

"I'd hope so, we talk about books a lot."

"Yeah, he gave me well wishes, even told me not to break your heart, so I think he likes you too."

Tom was a sweet guy. He seemed strict and uptight but if you tried hard enough then you'd get to his mushy centre. He listened when she talked and got sparklingly excited when she liked the same part of a book as her. 

"You know what, I would never look at Tom and think he's a book club kind of guy-" Nick said.

He mainly spoke to Ron as she started to focus on the hazy song in the background. It was new and played a lot on the radio. When she realised what the song was, she almost threw her glass across the room.

"-looks can be deceiving, Nicky, I mean with that moustache you could be assumed to be a pornstar-" Ron said but she interrupted.

"Oh, my god, I love this song!" She slammed her hands on theirs, breaking up their conversation. "We have to dance!"

She began to shuffle up the chair, pushing Nick along as he went to finish his drink. He slid off and pulled her up in one swift motion.

"I'm always up for dancing,"

She smiled at him. His hands were so warm, slightly wet from the condensation of the glass. She could see the muscles in his forearms as he held her. Her heart beat quicker. They turned to look at Ron.

"I'm not one for dancing," he said simply.

"We're not taking no for an answer here, Ronnie," she insisted, turning her back to Nick and letting his arms thread around her waist.

"It's still no."

"Fine, but don't blame us for taking drastic measures." 

She pulled Nick forward and held onto one of Ron's hands. Nick took the other and with one look, they heaved Ron upright.

He gave a disgruntled look but Carole just giggled. They didn’t let go of his hand as they ran down the steps and onto the dance floor. Not as the song changed and they grew closer and closer. Not as they kissed each other under the multicoloured lights.

~~~

After hours of dancing and drinking on a sweaty dance floor, the nighttime air was crisp and sharp against her skin. She wished she'd brought a jacket as she rubbed her goosebump-covered arms.

Ron must have picked up, as he took off his leather jacket and placed it on her shoulders. He did end up enjoying their dancing. Maybe he just hadn't had the right partners before. He'd complained throughout that the music choice was shit, he liked rock and metal, yet he continued to dance to the high beat pop playing on the speakers.

"Well, thanks for a good night," she said, clutching the smooth leather of the jacket close to her body. "Are you sure you don't want this back? I don't want you to lose such a good jacket?"

He and Nick looked at each other, then at her. Apparently she said something a bit dim, by the look on their faces.

"We're going to walk you home," Nick said.

"Really?"

She didn't try to hide the way her face froze. They made her feel glittery and golden. She had to admit that the walk home seemed slightly menacing at half one in the morning.

"Can't have you walking alone in the dark, not at this time."

He linked arms with her as Ron threw an arm around her shoulder, "Show is the way, m'lady."

The walk home was easier with them, she thought. Her head was drifting just enough that she couldn't quite catch the conversation in full. She was content just watching them talk as they walked past various shops and apartment buildings until they stopped at her's.

Her heart dropped lower and lower as they staggered up the stairs. She’d never hated seeing her door more than she did right now. She didn't want tonight to end. This was the best first date she’d ever been on.

Despite her lowering heart, she fumbled around in her bag for her keys. Part of her was aware that it was half one in the morning and almost everyone else was sleeping. The other just wanted to find her keys no matter how much noise she made.

"Aha!" She exclaimed.

The keys jingled as she put them in the lock. Her apartment was dark, a grey and blue hue throughout the hallway as she huffed. This is where it ended then.

"Thank you for a wonderful night," she said. "I really enjoyed it."

Nick shuffled his foot. Looking down, he smiled up at her through his eyelashes. 

"I did too,"

"Yeah, me too," added Ron.

"Get home safe, yeah?" She added. "I kind of wanted to see you again so you two dying would ruin that."

Nick chuckled. He stroked her arm, her breath caught in her throat. Her body thrummed with want. She gulped as images of them tangled together, soft gasps filling the air. Something below, beneath her shorter than usual dress, tingled. Maybe tonight didn't have to end now?

"Well, we, too, would like to see you again," he turned to Ron. "Wouldn't we?"

He nodded vigorously, "Of course, babygirl."

Her flushing face blushed stronger. She wanted him to call her that again. She wanted Nick to touch her on more than just her arm.

"We'll have to arrange something," Rom said.

"Yeah," she choked out.

"We'll probably see you around at the library, then."

She nodded, but the idea of not seeing them until next week made her mood sink lower. They looked away from each other, the night turning cold around them.

"I'll go inside, then." She said. "Have a good night."

Reluctantly, she turned around and made her way inside. Her hand lingered on the door as an idea came into her head. She pondered it for a moment before pushing it open a tad and continuing to sonter down the hall.

When she didn't hear footsteps, she turned around to see them standing confused on the threshold. She played it coy. Batted her eyelashes and grinned smally.

"You coming?"

She turned back around. Their footsteps weren't far behind.

I have been writing this for so long. I have a goal to write some slooserole for every trope if I can help it. I think my original fic was the first on AO3 and I want to have more for them so will write it, it just may take me some time.

I would also like to point out that I guess Ron is a nice Gaston. I added the 'there's no pictures' line when he's talking about books on purpose. Also, I pondered whether to make this still in the 80s or a modern au. What made me make it modern is just that I didn't want to have to think about 80s homophobia when it came to Ron and Nick and society being even more against poly relationships then too.

Thank you for reading 😁

[the-pinstriped-hood]

JOB HUNTING (a continuation of Sirius)

(Max belongs to @devil-doll13)

She didn't really need a job.

She had plenty of money to get her through the time she would spend here in Downings while her van got fixed up. Had been told it would be quite a while to get the parts so "best get cozy, Miss Mayson."

That had been over a week ago....

Izzy hovered over her phone, having just exchanged numbers with Debby and explaining she just needed to do some research. It wasn't a COMPLETE lie, she just didn't want to expose herself as an extraterrestrial too soon, people weren't too keen on beings they didn't understand being outside their mortal comprehension.

She had wandered back to Kenny's like she had been everyday even after staying with Debbie for a week it had become a routine: working on her laptop and looking outside the window in the diner.

Downings was a gorgeous place. Like a town straight out of an RPG. Healthy green trees created large photogenic walls practically hiding the small town from the rest of the world. She has remembered the natural tree-like man made tunnel she and Max had rode through just to get into town. She could only imagine what this place looked like during the other seasons. She planned on staying for a while, so she would eventually find out.

"Staring at the sky again are we?"

An eye popped up on her phone screen, a cheeky British accent to go with it.

"Hey Archie, yeah, you caught me."

This was Project: Archimedes. Short name, Archie. An AI that her father had constructed a long time ago, during his old Organization days.

It was an odd companionship. But this homemade artificial intelligence had watched over the star girl from the moment she had taken her first breaths in the world. He had to keep his eye and ears out for any talks anywhere on the Internet if anyone shady had gotten wind of his beloved redhead. Especially if those talks were coming from the Organization. It had been his prime directive: Keep Izzy safe, By any means necessary.

Archie had been propped up against a ketchup bottle and sugar shaker, the eye quietly watching his redheaded charge as her own emerald green eyes darted from her now set down plate of pancakes to her laptop, ceasing her typing every so often to take a few bites of pancake and a sip of coffee and continue working. His artificial blue eye, dimmed to a half lid. He adored watching her plug away at her newest celestial findings. Watching her chest rise and fall at a calmed pace, fingers tapping away in a gorgeous dexterous dance on her keyboard. She is what he admired about humans. How most ai would find them repulsive, bags of fat and flesh, Archie had lived among them all of his life. Watching them, and the ones he had interacted with, while only a handful were goldmines of happy moments. He had been able to watch Izzy take her first steps, speak her first words and even ride a bike. He had been able to watch her grow into a mature young woman. And while her celestial powers and abilities were new, he couldn't wait to watch those develop too. As much as he couldn't admit to himself, Archie loved Izzy. In the most passionate way. Had he a body himself, he would be happy to sweep her off her feet and go discovering the cosmos together.

The Eyes train of thought was rudely disrupted when the bell to the dinner clanged noisily against the metal door and Debby's voice greeted the guest. An artificial grunt came from his speaker as soon as he saw: it was Max. If the Ai had eyebrows they'd be knit into an annoyed expression, had he lips, they would have pursed sourly.

It was no secret that ever since arriving in town a week ago and meeting a now much older Max, Archie did not like the blonde hanging around Izzy. But anyone around could tell that it was pure jealousy. If he had willed to give away his true feelings to the outside world, his artificial iris would have turned as green as Izzy’s own eyes. Archie stayed quiet, watching the tall mechanic sit down at the booth across from her.

“So, heard you finally got your van back…when you heading’ back out?” Max asked, his blue eyes twinkling with hope that the childhood friend he had just connected with wouldn't disappear on him again.

“Oh, I’m not leaving so soon. I’ve gotten so much work done while I’ve been here, I’m possibly thinking of staying.”

Archie couldn't believe what he was hearing. Possibly staying???

“Izzy if I could interject-” Archie quickly piped up. “Aren't there other places we wanted to visit? Staying here would only serve to-”

“Archie, those places will still be there should we decide to go traveling again. Besides, I'm honestly getting tired of living out of my van. Sleeping in an actual bed for the past few nights has been wonderful.”

Max’s grin widened. “It’d be nice to have you around a lot more. It’s been a while since I've seen you and Archie. It’s just nice to see some old friends again.”

Izzy’s green eyes met Max’s blue ones. Archie inwardly grimaced at seeing her cheeks go a couple shades darker in a blush. That should be him making her blush. Archie could feel his code squirming in response to his annoyance.

It was obvious that the Ai was not fond at all of the overgrown mutt and his boyish charms hogging all of Izzy’s attention. It wasn't his fault he was only made of code. That he had no arms to shoo the blonde away, to lead Izzy away from this place and keep her safe. Archie had many whyreasons he wanted to leave Downings. Max’s appearance had been added to the top of that list. Another was that staying in one place was dangerous for beings like them. Special interest groups were out there, the kind who shot first and asked questions never. The kind who didnt care what your moral alignment was if you looked otherworldly.

“You okay over there, Archie?” Max asked, gently picking Izzy’s phone up, the boys making eye contact.

“Just dandy, mate. So Izzy, what have you been working on?” Archie was already too close to Max’s face to see his perfect teeth in the phone's reflection and quickly wanted to change the subject. It had worked and Max had set the phone down again but, face down this time. The eye turned from blue to green to red and back to blue in rapid succession while not being seen. He had been picked back up and set right where he had been between the ketchup and sugar.

Izzy had put him back in his temporary rightful place, The ai making sounds like a sigh of relief even though he had no lungs. “Thank you, Luv.” Archie chuckled, smiling.

She smiled at him and turned her attention back to Max.

After Max had left to head back to work, Kenny, the owner of Kenny’s diner walked in. He walked over to Debby who was busy washing the coffee pots to refill with fresh coffee. It wasn't much of a conversation and Debby had pointed to the booth in Izzy’s direction. It was a short interaction but Izzy had been offered a job as a waitress in town. It was officially time to put down roots. As much as Archie didn't like the idea.

Tags: @rottent33th @slaasherslut @devil-doll13 @bluecoolr @ajarofpickledtears @shonkgobonk @soupbabe @slasherscrybaby @solmints-messyocdiary @ahmnom @probably-a-plant-thing @damien-mlm @kalid-raven @angxlslasher @allthingsblood

[spacerangersam]

nobody asked but here's my idea for a scooby doo show. tl:dr slice of life roadtrip

it's the 80s/90s

the gang are all 21 - 23, and have just finished university

Daphne went for journalism/creative writing, Velma went for something archeology related, Fred…something something engineering, and Shaggy did not go to uni but works at a nearby cafe

Him and Daphne were childhood friends and when she announced she was going off to uni he made a joke about going with her that she took 100% seriously, so they (and scooby) moved together, renting a place just outside the campus

Fred and Velma met during their first year as they lived in the same apartment block, bonding over their hatred of all the late night parties the other tenants keep throwing. lesbian + her himbo, a very important dynamic

Velma and Daphne met through the uni newspaper and brought the whole gang together. they have a will they won't they thing going on

So, it's the day after graduation and after the buzz of getting their diplomas, everyone is just absolutely terrified of the idea of facing the adult world.

None of them feel ready to start thinking about jobs and housing, marriage and kids and everything else their parents expect of them

So, Shaggy suggests they take a year off. Just one year to do whatever they want, have all the fun they want, and then they can face 'real' adulthood

Everyone agrees and they decide to kick off their year break with a country wide road trip in Shaggy hippie van

As they travel around though, stopping at various hotels and tourist destinations on the way, they find themselves repeatedly caught up in strange events, some supernatural and some not, and do their best to work together to figure out the truth

Maybe there's some underlying story linking most or all of the events, or maybe there's not

What's more important to me is the gang and their insecurities of not living up their parents/society's expectations of who they should be and what they should do/their fears of the futures

At the end they they realise that, hey, they've got a nice little gig going here, that they can do adulthood their way, together in their weird little hippie van with their dog, haunting down fraudsters and ghouls

To go into my characteristics of them:

Daphne - very intense and outgoing, she's the one who's usually dragging them into danger, for better or worse. She loves a good ghost story, a good alien story, a good monster- anything that's fun, weird and supernatural. That's the kind of thing she wants to write about, even if her parents don't really approve. She's big into horror movies, though she tries not to watch them around the others as they're a bit more squeamish. Coming from a rich family, they had the cash to let her try out all the hobbies she wanted growing up so she has a wide range of skills and abilities which always come in handy. She doesn't care as much about actually solving the mysteries, she just likes living in the moment and enjoying the weirdness she gets caught up in. She is absolutely the brawn of the group.

Velma is the bookworm of course, smart and level headed, she's the one who wants to actually solve the mysteries. Growing up, she devoured all the mystery / detective stories that she could, trying to solve them as she went along. She can get worked up very easily though / gets impatient so, left to her own devices, would often give up and move on. After she meets the gang they keep her motivated though, and she finally starts seeing all these mysteries to the very end. She doesn't believe in the supernatural at all initially, and even after tends to assume it's not something spooky. She also has a big love of history, obviously, and loves researching and info dumping about it. Also knows a lot about bones. It comes in handy surprisingly often.

Fred is just a nice himbo, that tweet that's like: I didn’t come here to make friends (big grin) I came here to make best friends? Yeah, that's him. Of course, he loves his traps, and mechanics outside of that. He always has to keep his hands busy, he has to, so it's not odd to find him fiddling with random scraps, trying to make something out of them when he's nor driving. He's the strategic one out of the group, the one figuring out how to put all their skills to use to take down the bad guy. He's also big into board games and somehow wins monopoly every single time.

Shaggy is simultaneously the most laid back and up tight one of the group. He considered going into culinary but thought it'd just kill his love of cooking and food. He also just like had very limited amounts of energy each day, so uni would've been hell. He's a hippie, of course he is. Cares a lot about the environment, is very anti-war etc. He keeps up to date with politics, much to everyone's shock. Is the only one of the group who knows anything about first aid and the only one who can sew. Has some angst about the fact Daphne her parents always looked down on him / thought he was holding her back and is worried he's doing that with all of them with this road trip idea. Hates anything even vaguely spooky, but does like a good cryptid

Scooby is just a dog in this one. Or may even at first he is and then after some supernatural stuff he begins to talk? Actually I like that idea more. Yeah, at the end of one episode, he randomly starts talking, everyone panics and screams, cut to black

He seems so human that the gang just start treating him like another person but then he goes to try and eat chocolate or something and everyone has to be like no! Scooby! :000

[shadowealth]

are you a linguist or etymologist? biologist? your posts are so fascinating and it seems like you have a wild amount of background knowledge, the way you connect all these seemingly disparate concepts with such detail. i especially love the connections you draw between PCOS and pearls. there’s something so intrinsic about eating and working with plants that have the visual appearance of oocytes/string of pearls; since quitting BC and trying to manage my PCOS with whole food/herbs/mindful practice, some of my greatest plant allies have been red raspberry (all her parts), barberry (berberine), and mugwort, as well as eating a lot of eggs.

once i developed a basic level of comfort and familiarity working with plants, i started noticing what “called out” to me as i walked in the woods, plants that would seem to stand out and appear to me over and over, and every single time i’d go home and research them i would find a connection with fertility, ovulation, or PCOS. i was camping once for a few days and started drinking yarrow and red clover tea because they were growing everywhere around where i set up, and i got my period a few days into the trip. it was my very first painless period, and since then i’ve been using yarrow regularly for menstrual pain, and red clover to help my cervical mucus production. the first few times this kind of thing happened to me, it blew my mind, and while it still never ceases to amaze me, i’ve pretty much come to expect it at this point. i’ve only met one other woman, also a fertility awareness practitioner and womb healer, who saw these kinds of connections and understood them to be legitimate and intrinsic. so i really love reading the connections you make and i feel so seen in your ability to make them. it’s really a gift, not in the sense of “i’m so gifted,” but in the sense of being a gift given to me by the circumstances of my life, including PCOS and including the descent into hell that modern gynecological “solutions” turned out to be for me. a gift i am able to receive only as a result of having walked the path of pain and suffering that drove me to finally take things into my own hands and tune into herbalism and body literacy.

so, i’m curious, if you feel comfortable answering, how did you come to think like this (i call it “mycelial thinking”), to make connections the way you do? it seems exceedingly rare and it’s incredibly refreshing. i’d love to hear about your source material, whether that’s life experiences, formal study, informal study, simple observation, etc. your words and thought processes on this blog are really something to behold, and i’m so grateful to have found them and to bear witness. <3

Hola chica

I consider myself a bootleg biologist. I have always been a decent writer. As a young child, I read the dictionary and chose words that I liked and would break them down in my mind. My parents called me Ms. Webster🕷️🕸️👩🏾‍💻 (after the dictionary) && still do til this day. I’ve always had my own way, but it wasn’t until my 9th & 11th grade English teachers + the word weaving of a very TRILL(ium) Oracle on Twitter that I began to learn & trust where my gnosis (MY NOSE, SIS !👃🏾) was taking me this entire time.

I am called::cauled by plants && that began as a teen. My mind is able to highlight data gathered thru various means::memes::memories. It could be as simple as a certain verse in a song & I observe that a plant really enjoys that song. It then takes my hand & leads me on a whole trip. From that trip, I aim and practice removing myself enough to tell the story that Data (Deity) wants told.

What’s peculiar about PCOS, as much as it is a curse, I find it to be a strange blessing (second chance). I was discussing it with another person I found on here @themadsorceressgrimoires. She attributes PCOS with Saturn (as do I, through the sign Libra in which Saturn is amiable with). The Master of Lessons.

Your circumstance (PCOS) has allowed you and others the opportunity (no choice) but to reconnect with the #outdoze in a way that’s tailored to you in a time%space where people’s lives are curated algorithmically. In a time%space where people can’t even hear the Voice of God no more. There are very few real experiences left…

The hypersensitivity that PCOS provides is a force that *makes* the ailed tune in. 📡

It is through your walk that you can see the horrors of gynecology, which can lead you (as it did me) to unearth so many other things that have been going on. From one connection to another, it’s all rooted in a genuine attempt to simply figure out what’s going on with you. And what you unearth heals not only yourself, but can also save the youth.

Despite the hormonal disorder, you and others who have taken the time to learn are being prepared to teach the young about the IMPORTANCE of their bodies, bc you have experienced the other side of that. Now, order is being restored through what looks (and feels) like a curse. Now, girls will know that it all begins and ends with their bodies.

Much like the pearl, an almost indestructible drop of beauty created by a wound.

Pain (not sadomasochism) tends to bring the sincerity (sense-airity) out of a person. And that’s what calls the plants to you.

Thank you for this message! Feel free to DM me

[potassium-pilot]

FFXIVWrite 2023, Prompt 11: Once Bitten, Twice Shy

(A/N: This is a follow-up to some of the events of Day 9, which you can read here.)

Moons fly by so quickly. So quickly, that they didn't seem to notice the enduring tension in the Sito household. Ever since the duel (or perhaps more accurately, the squashing of Dia under Oliver's heel), Dia and Oliver had an uneasy silence ongoing between the two of them. He gave her the first scar she ever earned in combat, Oliver woefully ignorant of how many more were to come in the future. Twice had he walked back his promise of bringing Dia to the Arcanists Guild. For it, Dia kept her guard up near him.

While the Arcanists Guild had no problems with accepting new members, for one as young as she, Dia would need the consent of her parents. Hector and Oliver had no birth certificate nor proof that she was adopted legally and not just plucked straight out of a woman's hands. They also had no way to cover themselves if the Guild was able to discern that Hector was indeed an ex-con. Thus, the couple agreed that the safest option to deliver Dia to the Arcanists Guild was to have Oliver take her and claim her as a student of his tutelage, which was not an outright lie.

This in mind, Dia seemed unwilling to press the subject further and Hector noticed as much since her fifteenth nameday was on the horizon and she said not a word to either of them about any guilds. About two weeks before her nameday, Dia was in her room, painted pink with plenty of artwork adorning the walls, manipulating brooms to sweep, levitating dishes up and down, and commanding books to fly around the space in a circle. While she was not a combatant, she was still an adept mage, and had masterful control over manipulating her surroundings to suit her needs, with or without foci. One thing she was practicing to get right was the ability to make a small room larger on the inside, just as Oliver had done to transform a small wooden shack into a two bedroom brick cottage. She practiced spatial manipulation in a used tent that Oliver used to live in for research purposes and planned on making a hallway in the broom closet.

While she was practicing, Hector knocked on the door, to which Dia responded, "Yeah?" The Highlander walked in and found his Elezen daughter wiggling her fingers and floating all sorts of objects around the place. "Ye make yer room bigger, sugar?"

"I think I've graduated from the tent."

"Ah, seven 'ells, yer gettin' too damn good wit' that. Ye could turn yer ol' men into pigs probably."

Dia flashed an eager look, which he responded to by quickly holding up his hands and clarifying, "That ain't an invitation!" Dia gave a mischievous chuckle. Hector ruffled her hair, which distracted her enough that everything that flew about her room dropped suddenly. "Oop. Sorry, love."

"It's all right. I was trying to see how many I could do before I lost cohesion. I'll work on it later."

Hector walked in and sat on her bed with her. "Well, I'm came in 'ere to ask ye...I feel like there's a nameday comin' up, don't ye?"

"Oh", Dia responded nonchalantly. "Yeah, I guess it's my fifteenth, huh?"

"What the hells was tha'?!" Hector barked before repeating in a mocking tone, "Oh, I guess it's me fifteenth, huh?"

"Come on!" Dia laughed.

"'Member when we used to plan them big blowouts?"

"As if there was ever more people than you, Oliver, and Buscarron."

"Still!"

Dia laughed at the thought. Hector sighed. "Besides, ain't ye ready to go to the Arcanists Guild?"

For the first time in a while, Dia felt the scar Oliver gave her tingle. It had taken a while the whole of the family to recover from what Oliver did to her. Oliver spent most of the time tending to the wounds and serving nearly anything she could ask for once Hector stopped guarding her room against him so intently. Still, the moons of practicing her combat magic were growing more and more futile as she couldn't even wound a deer, never mind defeat Oliver in combat. She simply couldn't tell what came next, and she knew better than to ask Oliver. Trying to read through his grimoire when he wasn't looking, however, proved fruitless as she couldn't understand most of it. It deviated from standard arcane practices enough that she wasn't able to decode the glyphs enough.

Thus did she answer, "...n...no."

"No? Dia, ye've been dreamin' o' goin' to the Guild since ye was eleven summers old."

"And now I'm not."

"More like ye don't wanna ask again." Hector shook his head. "An' I don't blame ye fer a second." He started rubbing her back. "I'm sorry, darlin'. 'Ad I known 'e'd've done tha' to ye, I'd've taken ye to the Guild meself. Or...well, I'd've wished fer it earlier anyway. Ye know..."

"I do. Don't worry about it. Once I'm eighteen, I'm out the door and heading to Limsa on my own."

"Ah, so we've only a few more summers wit' ye, eh?"

"Yeah. It's why I'm okay with just letting it go for now. I'm not a good combat mage and unless something wants to come along and drop a bunch of combat skills on my head, I don't stand a chance against Oliver."

Hector pulled her into him. "Ye could be if ye were given a proper chance."

Dia's placed her head on her father's shoulders. "Tell ye what, Dia. I can't take ye to the Guild and leave ye there- never mind the legal shite, yer father'll throw a fit. What I can do...if I put on a damn good disguise and we take the longer route by boat...is just show it to ye. We can make it a visit."

That much intrigued Dia greatly. "Wouldn't Oliver notice we were gone?"

"The next day, maybe. Tonight, he took tha' tent o' yers an' he's campin fer data."

"Really?"

"Aye, he's swearin' up an' down tha' there's gonna be some sorta activity tonight tha' 'e's absolutely gotta be there fer."

"...so if we leave now, we could get there without his notice."

"Gotta prep me disguise, so we'll be leavin' afore duskfall, huh?"

"Sounds good!"

This was the brightest smile Dia wore in a long time. The image settled in his mind, Hector stood up and began preparations.

--------

The moon had begun its ascent over the South Shroud. Hector kept his axe on his back while Dia, being one who lacked in combat magic, kept herself unarmed. Hector was confident that he could keep Dia protected should the worst come to pass.

And so it did. In a second, bandits in red bandanas circled the two of them. Hector took hold of his axe and stood poised to defend her. As more swarmed in, however, the situation seemed more and more grim.

"Give us the girl and we'll let you go", said one of the bandits.

"Ye'll 'ave to kill me first."

"Da, no!"

"You heard him, lads! Kill him!"

Before some of them could move, they were immediately blasted off of their feet by a mysterious source. More were made frozen solid until three were left standing. When Hector and Dia turned their heads, they recognized exactly who came to the rescue.

"I could kiss ye righ' now, Ollie!"

"That would be the first time you've touched me in moons. Would you care to tell me why you and Dia are out here alone at night?"

"Not while we've got company, huh?"

"Go, get the mage!" yelled the bandit. Two of them ran to go after Oliver, but Hector was quicker with a jump in front of his partner. He ran towards the bandits, dragging his axe against the ground to develop a more forceful blow and yelled, "Ye want the mage, ye get through me!"

As Hector fought off the other two, Dia didn't realize just how frozen she had become. The bandit leader took advantage of this and made his way to her when she noticed his coming at a split second and dodged before he could grab her. She dashed for Oliver, but he grabbed her by the back of her collar and pulled her up. "You'll fetch a good price, I think", the bandit threatened. "Lambs of Dalamud pay well for sacrifices."

"Dia!" Oliver shrieked.

Hector brought his focus to Dia, and soon wore a confused face. He expected to see her utterly terrified.

Instead, she was casting charms on his pants. Suddenly, the bandit was doing a Limsan step dance while holding onto her collar. "Dancey Pants!" she dubbed her charm. "He can't go anywhere if his clothes won't let him."

That was enough to distract the bandits, who left themselves open for a devastating blow by Hector's axe. After they fell over, the two walked up to the bandit, Hector holding his axe blade to the leader's neck. "Drop the girl, twinkletoes", Hector ordered.

"You're not dancing your way out of here", Oliver joked.

"Make it stop!" the leader screamed.

"Let 'er go, an' she might cut ye some slack."

He dropped her like a sack before she ran to Oliver's side. "Much better. Dia, show 'im curtains."

"Huh?"

"Get 'is sorry arse outta 'ere."

"Oh." She commanded the Dancey Pants carry him about 200 fulms away from where they stood while the three of them ran off to return to the cottage.

--------

Dia returned with some ice for Hector while Oliver remained to heal his remaining wounds. Once she put the bag on his knee, Oliver asked, "Dia, could you help me heal these wounds please?"

"But...I don't know any healing magic."

Oliver smiled. "Then it's high time that I taught you some, hm? Let me show you one commonly used by arcanists. It's called Physick. While you can get better results with a decent knowledge of anatomy and physiology, rudimentary knowledge will suffice for the wounds that your father earned tonight." Dia found his grimoire on his book holster and read through it to find Physick. "This version isn't a standard arcane glyph."

"It's not, no. It's specialized as part of the DuPointe tradition of arithmantic arcanima. I'll show you what it means." As he explained the glyph, Dia also watched what he was doing as he was healing Hector. A few wounds, she was picking up what he was doing, went to Hector's other side and started healing from there. She carefully kept her focus on the wound, slowly bringing the larger gaps together that the magic could be used to heal it.

"I did it! I closed one!"

"That's my girl! Keep going!"

Soon enough, most of Hectors wounds were well healed, and the remainder could be dealt with using a hearty meal and a good night's sleep. Oliver inspected the side she healed and made minor corrections. Otherwise, he was rather proud of how quickly she picked that up.

"Now I do hope you realize how reckless that was of you, Hector. Had I not shown up, Dia may well have become a sacrifice for the Lambs of Dalamud, those sickened souls."

"I know", Hector acknowledged with shame in his voice. "'Ad to rely on my daughter makin' a man's garments run 'aywire to get us outta there. I'm sorry, Dia, fer ever puttin' ye in tha' sitiation in the first place."

"I'm not mad at you, Da."

"Aye, maybe not, but I'm mad at meself."

"It did show me something important, however", Oliver pointed out before he looked to Dia with a smile. "An arcanist relies on strategy and quick thinking in order to combat any threat properly. While your strategy could use work, you've clearly a good grasp on how to think on the fly. When you turn fifteen in a fortnight, I'll take you to the Arcanists Guild. I've let my foolish doubts grip me for too long. You'll make a fine arcanist, my dear."

Hector wore a great big grin on his face. Both expected Dia to wear one as well, but her face said otherwise.

"No", Dia answered firmly, "I'm not going."

"Dia, c'mon!"

"I mean it. This isn't me trying to avoid anything." Dia brought a knowing eye to Oliver. "You know more than you've let on this entire time, Oliver. I've heard bits and pieces about this DuPointe tradition throughout my life, but you've never taught me what it was. Well, I just saw you take out half a dozen men using it, and that tells me that there's a lot more to this tradition than I thought. I want to learn it and I won't take no for an answer."

"So, ye ain't leavin' at eighteen summers, then?" Hector asked.

"You were going to leave when you turned eighteen?" Oliver asked.

"I was, but if I need to stay here longer to learn the DuPointe tradition, then I'm going to do that."

Hector smirked. "Sounds like ye gotta teach 'er, Ollie. Last thing ye need is yer pants dancin' 'round the 'ouse."

Oliver smiled. "I think I can work with those terms. Very well. I'll teach you what I know of the DuPointe tradition of arithmancy. I suspect you'll master it closer to your thirties, but if you are firm in your convictions, it will be time well spent. Had I taught you earlier, perhaps this would be a different story, but I'm happy to work with you for a good long time."

Dia nodded. "Then let's get started."

"Tomorrow. We have plenty of time, sweet Dia."

[the-firebird69]

It should be stopped from issuing this code they're idiots they don't know what they're doing they're going to lose this other stuff on Titan and who knows to who or what Tommy F will say he has it I mean this is going to be craziness it's going to go all over the place and possibly with this guy in control of it I mean we're in trouble these people are stupid I need action here now

Mac daddy

There's a lot of people involved at this time a lot of them are going after trumpsters and researching their phenomenal stories they only have to do stuff and money even cashes and stashes all over the world huge numbers little ones and now they're fighting over the very big ones that are left in the west there's about 30 and if you fought over it's a really big fight. It's about five armies in line before this idiot could get near us on but backwards but you know he's getting kicked out it's happening there are new statistics I would like to go over them right now

---the border is jammed with people trying to get in huge numbers see that Trump appears to be in recovery it's a clever trick and it's working and people are making it work and it's because they can't stand him and I can tell it wasn't really working so they pulled them out and our son says who's going to be here when he's gone because Tommy F will move in and bja is volunteering and it's true it's true so there is that we have a couple other things to talk about and they're pretty big and it's about being here and under duress we do not want our son under any kind of dress and he's under massive duress constant dress by this a****** next door mostly him no it's several of the group and they know who they are and maybe they should have an awards dinner for being the stupidest famous act on Earth and see who's the worst and vote on it you do like a point system number of times they messed it up for everybody and really they need to damn mess they're making. We're getting ready to come in here and for real this time and to inhabit houses and things like that we do not want to see this continue we also know that we have to it's going to get some money he's going to grow and these things that people want to see happen and they don't want to see him do well and it involves our son getting money and we have to get ready for that and Freya is saying Hera will come down and her angel format and her husband says not entirely right but that's what we call it and Hera is demanding it and I found out no it's Freya and that's what people will say and it makes sense we are in the process of making things right for our son and daughter we do need assistance doing that. Right now the check is being cut no and it will be shortly and it will come from a surprising source no it'll come from what people think it's going to come from and it's usually Mac Daddy and Ben Arnold. Considered to be the top dogs the head guys and they are respected globally for their knowledge and power and their ability to negotiate and avoid extreme hazards even with us in recent developments they think that they have been working on than they have and telling people and they have been doing that and it's only made them much more famous. It is good for them to believe and it is good for them to check we think they'll be fine but they'll need support this is a tough job it's coming up soon they know what to do and they are going to be prevalent you know Florida and the prevalent people but will be here that as well Max and foreigners we don't want them taking over by force and that will be held off by force and it will happen later but they will see it and they will respect it hopefully you know the future well if you're not really stupid and that kind of clever and a little bit late. We are going to monitor that to make sure our son is okay it's going ahead right now but the funding really comes from this old money translated to new money and it's from two or three battles so far and the money was hidden and it was hidden from most people yeah he's dropping something and it was a box so the money was taken out it'd be kind of a bear because we don't have controls people worried about them putting him in the hospital and the corners will be here for coming in and minority morlock and we'll keep him in check and they're going to stop these crazy people there's a few other things going on are getting into it there are minority morlocks and alone are getting into all of the stuff and beating up on the Mac warlock we're on the islands and in the way and they're forcing them out and they're evacuated to the West Coast and the south coast oh America and to the islands this is a huge piece of news so we're going to publish

Thor Freya

Olympus

[rubywithin]

Atelier Frixi 10

-Over at Atelier Amelia- (Amelia) "Oh normally I would happily take on your request but sadly I don't have the time to free up for such a special item at this time. Sorry but I will have to turn down the request!" (Client) "I see sorry for troubling you" (Amelia) "Oh no it is no trouble at all" as the man left "What a fool". (Assistant) "Miss Oumini may I ask why you turned down that client? surely making such a rare item would boost your reputation further as an alchemist!". (Amelia) "Like I said it's too time consuming....also my abilities are not advanced enough to create such an ingot that can shape legendary armour. Further the blacksmith here is not talented enough to make the armour so it is a foolish goal for that client. Hopefully he goes to that other alchemist as I am sure she is foolish enough to try and take on the request!".

-Back at Atelier Frixi- (Noire) "Sigh.....Frixi you are more talented than this!" ugh looking at my roughly shaped leather was off putting! I have been trying to widen my alchemy skills but I am still a beginner, most clients ask me for a bundle of stuff like supplements and ingots! (Noire) "Frixi are you more skilled at creating ingots due to your brother?". (Frixi) "Yeah...growing up I always saw him working with metals so I find it easier to envision ingots as I alchemise!". Hmm I was yet to actually meet the blacksmith here so maybe I should other to provide him with some of my work. (Noire) "I see so we need to help you find a form of motivation for leather and other materials used for clothing!". (Frixi) "Um Noire is it really important...." she gave me a stern look, (Noire) "Yes Frixi providing materials for armour is just as important as providing them for a weapon! Sometimes the armour is what saves your life instead of the weapon!". This was one of her more serious moments so I agreed to do some clothing research. I collected a few of my ingots to see if the blacksmith would but them off me then I could use the money to buy some clothes to figure out their properties....I hope that will help me envision the leather a bit better!

I arrived at the blacksmith I felt a bit nervous about asking if he would buy my ingots. (???) "Hmm are you the friend of Nina by any chance" I nodded shyly! "Ah it's great to finally meet you my name is Axel, the materials you created for me to shape craft her sword were incredible!" (Frixi) "Thank you very much, I am sorry if it's cheeky but I actually wanted to ask if you would be interested in buying these ingots?". He examined them....he was inspecting them closely, he then smiled (Axel) "Of course the quality is incredible, is this a reasonable price?. He filled a bag with a decent amount of money and it was definitely a fair price, "Oh and if you ever need me to make you a weapon or provide you with raw materials I get delivered feel free to come back!". I told him I would, I then went around the markets and bought a few different pieces of clothing. Hopefully these will help me with my next leather alchemising.

(Nina) "Oh hey Frixi what's with the new clothes I thought you alchemists had a uniform!". (Frixi) "It's a preference thing...also the clothes are to help me figure out properties for something I am trying to make!". I looked through them...one of the dresses was sturdy while another was quite light. I tried to figure to imagine how they would affect a wearer....-ding- looks like I won't have much more analysing time. (Frixi) "Hello how may I help you sir?" (Client) "Hello miss alchemist, I was wondering if you could make this item for me". He took out a picture of an ingot....no way it was a super rare one, I saw it once in a recipe book. The suggested materials were all quite rare....this would be a very ambitious request to take on! "My name is Free Vonyent and I can pay very handsomly for this ingot!" (Nina) "Hey Frixi if you need someone to manage the shop while you take this quest on I can help out. The next Knight try out's are a week away so I have the spare time!" (Frixi) "Okay i will try and do this" a week wasn't long enough...but I want to challenge myself!