#finally felt motivated to work on my oc story and i realized how bright the characters are

[bugfail]

i'm touching up colors because they feel too bright BUT ANYWAY scout melonin yes or no help me

[aricazorel]

OC Questionnaire

I was tagged by @enasallavellan Thank You! This was really fun!

Answering for my Dragon Age: Inquisition OC from my ongoing fanfic series on AO3.

(This got a little long so more below the cut)

THE BASICS:

Character’s name:

Anyssa McBride

Role in story:

Inquisition Historian from Earth (MGIT story; Anchor series on AO3)

Physical description:

5ft 6in, wavy honey blonde hair that currently reaches midway down her back (on Earth it was roughly shoulder length, ice blue eyes

Age:

She is 26 when she arrives in Thedas and currently is 29 in my story. (She will be 30 shortly after the events set in Trespasser)

MBTI/Enneagram Personality Type:

I took two different tests when I created Anyssa and both labeled her as ‘ENFJ’—the giver or mentor. (I would argue that while she tested as an extrovert she does appreciate introvertedness and the current situation dictates which she chooses to be)

INTERNAL LIFE:

What is their greatest fear?

Being used and taken for granted

Inner motivation:

To help others and support them, hoping to see them happy

Kryptonite:

Having her self-doubts realized

What is their misbelief about the world?

Anyssa believes that everyone wants help and they just do not know how to ask for it. Unfortunately she has found out that some people just don’t want help no matter how sincere you are.

Lesson they need to learn:

She needs to learn to trust herself. Those around her know of her past on Earth and have made efforts to help her learn that. But no matter what, she still struggles with it, sometimes to the point of questioning whether she deserves the life she now has.

What is the best thing in their life?

A group of people who love and care for her. In other words, Friends

What is the worst thing in their life?

A history on Earth of those that were supposed to care for her, using her instead…and abuse. After her parents died in a car crash during her junior in high school, she went to live with her aunt and uncle who proceeded to steal the money her parents had left her for college. Later she entered into a relationship with a seemingly charming man named Bryan who turned out to be emotionally and physically abusive towards her. After two years she worked up the courage to attempt to leave. After multiple tries, she finally succeeded only to end up in Thedas.

What do they most often look down on people for?

Taking advantage of others, being cruel/mean to others, judging other without taking into consideration what they have been through

What makes his/her/their heart feel alive?

Writing stories based on those around her, sharing her knowledge with people who appreciate it, learning about the cultures and people around her, horseback riding, rock climbing, exploring the tunnels under Skyhold

What makes them feel loved, and who was the last person to make them feel that way?

The people she had come to know as friends in Thedas. They have become her ‘found’ family—something she thought to never have again. The last person to make her feel that way is Cullen. He always knows the right thing to say or the right thing to do to let her know she is loved.

Top three things they value most in life?

Acceptance by others, support of others, friendship

EXTERNAL LIFE:

Is there an object they can’t bear to part with and why?

No personal items from Earth made it through the rift to Thedas with Anyssa. What she has come to cherish most is the small items her friends have given her in an effort to make she feel at home. Most notably is the Cullen’s coin she wears around her neck and a stuffed dragon named Puff he gave her before they ever began their relationship.

Describe a typical outfit for them from top to bottom.

For her normal duties as historian, she wears simple dresses common to Ferelden fashion as well as blouses and skirts. For more formal affaires she wears one the many dresses Vivienne had made for her that incorporates Orlesian, Fereldan, and Free Marcher styles. For when she explores the caverns below Skyhold or travels away from the keep, she prefers typical traveling clothes and pants over skirts.

Most of her clothes are shades of light blue which Cullen said matches her eyes. She also wears purple in various shades being as it is her favorite color.

What names or nicknames have they been called throughout their life?

Nyssa and Nys. Most of her friends have called her Nyssa at some point in her life. Nys is only used by Cullen. He has also been known to use the endearment “sweetling” after they began their relationship.

What is their method of manipulation?

Anyssa isn’t known for manipulating anyone out right. Most of the time, she will rephrase an argument point to make the other party believe they are making a choice freely. This is not something she employs with people she is friends with or allied with. It a trick she holds in reserve when dealing with unreasonable nobles, especially when she has been called on to aid Josephine.

However, she is not above manipulating Cullen to either ensure he does not take on too much or because she would like some private time with him. A bright smile and repeatedly saying ‘please’ usually works. The first time Cullen realized he could not say no to her was when she asked to see a real dragon. In the end, he gifted her a stuffed dragon she named Puff and then took her to Crestwood to see the dragon there (from a safe distance of course.)

Describe their daily routine.

Anyssa’s routine various from day to day depending on the work load and what other duties she’s been tasked with. Normally, she holds any meetings in the morning and she makes time to watch the sparring ring from the battlements (especially if Cullen is participating). After that she may conduct any research she can on historical items the Inquisition has acquired and writes any correspondence to allies that might have knowledge she does not. She frequently checks in with Dagna in the Undercroft and reports the archanist’s progress to those interested. (Most people tend to shy away from Dagna but Anyssa finds her fascinating and funny.) She often finds Cullen for lunch and reminds him to eat. Her afternoons might involve cataloging artfifacts and tomes recovered in the hopes of returning them to their proper owners. If time allows, she can be found exploring and mapping the caverns and tunnels below Skyhold much to Cullen’s dismay. Throughout her day though, Anyssa has learned to work in time for her friends as well as for herself (though it has been a struggle in learning to do so)

Their go-to cure for a bad day?

There a several different answers to this. One is Sera. Both Anyssa and the Red Jenny enjoy pranks. Frequently Anyssa may provide the idea or inspiration while Sera carries out the actual pranks itself.

Horseback riding alone or with Cullen.

Playing Wicked Grace with Varric and/or Bull, Blackwall, and the Chargers. (Drinking and storytelling maybe involved.)

Reading a book with Cullen.

GOALS:

How are they dissatisfied with their life?

Overall, Anyssa is exceedingly happy with her life in Thedas. It is something she never thought to have again after her parents death and the abusive relationship with her ex-boyfriend. She had friends, a family, a career, someone to love her (whom she loves with all her heart), and a new purpose in life. If there was one thing that she would be dissatisfied with, it would be the knowledge that despite all the good the Inquisition did there will still be people who still cling to the old ways. In other words, she wishes that everyone could find the acceptance and support she has found but knows that the old ways are easier for some to hold onto instead of embracing change.

What would bring them true happiness or contentment?

Finally realizing that she did nothing wrong and it was not her fault that anyone left her or treated her poorly. Those were decisions made by others and she is not responsible for that. Cullen has aided her greatly in making progress with this but it is a struggle she will always have. But then again she has found a support network and love, so in the end she is already happy/content.

What definitive step could they take to turn their dream into a reality?

This is something Anyssa initially struggled with. Cullen was the first to admit he loved her and it took seven months before she could say it back. After that, they talked circles around making concrete plans about their future. Finally, they decided to just make the plans as they went (making a list of things they wanted.) When Cullen decided to start a Templar sanctuary after retirement, that solidified things. Now all that remains to be done is see the Inquisition through to the end and then begin their future.

How has their fear kept them from taking this action already?

Her past relationship colored how she reacted to Cullen’s affections and made her question whether she could trust his words. (she learned to trust his actions first and then his words)

Haven and Skyhold were the places she first felt welcomed in Thedas, like she had a real home again.

She questioned whether she could be lead historian in a world she knew nothing of, questioning even the skills she had learned on Earth.

How do they feel they can accomplish their goal while still steering clear of the thing they are afraid of?

Anyssa has decided to focus on what she can do in the present and prepare for the future she wants. She has begun making plans for how to transfer her skills to a slightly different career path aft her the conclusion of the Inquisition and has told Cullen she will support his dream of a Templar sanctuary while pursuing her own path. To ensure that happens, she will more than likely rely on Cullen for reminders to believe in herself and trust that she knows what she is doing. In the end, it all comes down to trust for Anyssa and her Commander is the one she trusts the most.

Tagging @commanderadorkable, @shadoedseptmber, @raflesia65, @noire-pandora and anyone else who would like to play! No pressure, just fun!

[sierraraeck]

Dancing, Drugs, and Lies (Pt.3)

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

(This is my gif so please give credit if used)

Summary: Morgan’s cousin is in danger. Aundreya decides to use some of her ‘special talents’ to help the team find her. Story seven.

Category: Working a case with the team. A bit angsty, I guess.

Warnings: Cussing. Drugs. Implied drug abuse. Normal CM gore and situations.

Word Count: 3.0k

A/N: Just a reminder that this is all fiction and I don’t actually know about drugs or exotic dancers.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The team split up and went to look for Dom at all three locations. Typically, they found him at the Camelot, which was good and bad for me. Good that I would know people there and could get them to cooperate with me easier and I already had some of my outfits there. Bad because I knew people there and had outfits there and the team could pick up on the fact that I’d been there many times recently as a dancer.

I showed up to the Camelot and went through the back door.

“Alionth! Hey, what’re you doing here? I thought you were off for a while?” JoJo said. She and I had worked together for many years and were the ultimate veterans of the group. Her long, fiery red hair and gorgeous long legs made her quite the attraction and I’d told her that. She always complained and said she wished she had more toned, muscular legs like mine. I guess the grass is always greener, right?

“Yeah well, I decided to pop in,” I replied. I was trying to keep the real motives of my visit under wraps. I walked over to the mini cabinet that I kept my clothes in. I slipped on the tight, black, leather outfit that provided the least coverage. I always caught a lot of attention wearing it. I quickly pulled my hair back and hid it under my signature wig. It was long, straight hair, nearing my waist, and was a bright orange on the right half, and bright yellow on the left half. I threw in my green contacts as well, completely transforming myself into the persona I let take the stage. Not to be confused with the other half of the Alionth persona, who was the badass criminal ringleader.

I poked my head around the side of the stage so that I could find the man in the trench coat. He wasn’t hard to spot, standing behind the third row of tables, directly in the center.

Time to turn on the charm.

They announced me as ‘Alionth: special guest star’, followed by a bunch of hoots and hollers.

Great. The team will definitely ask what that’s about.

I walked out on stage, slowly, seductively, and made eye contact with Dom the whole time. I winked at him right before my music started.

I’d done this plenty of times, but it felt surreal knowing that the two worlds I tried so hard to keep separate were colliding. I fought the urge to look for my teammates, just having to trust the knowledge that they were there, and they were watching. I both wanted to, and didn’t want to see their reactions. Instead, I put forth all of my efforts into long-distance wooing Dom Forester.

The song ended and the lights went dark. I gasped for air, just then realizing that I’d probably been holding my breath for the entirety of the dance. I felt a little light headed, but the chorus of cat calls and claps brought me back to Earth. I quickly collected the money strewn across the stage, went back to the dressing rooms, and waited. If this guy was as impatient as we profiled, I’d be getting the notice any minute.

“Alionth,” Landice, the manager, said, “You’ve got a private.”

I took a deep breath. Now the real show begins.

I walked as confidently as I could into that room. I’d dealt with so many creeps it was unbelievable, but this was different. Different because I was actually going to have to wait for him to make a move on me and then not fight back, and different because I knew that I had a team of professionals watching my back. I did one last check of my bracelet, just to make sure the hidden button was still there and within reach.

“Hel-lo,” I said coquettishly, flashing him my best smile. He didn’t respond. I looked him up and down, and he returned the favor. “Like what you see?”

He patted the seat next to him. I went to sit down. I watched him intently as he pulled a small bag, filled with the same white powder I took earlier that day, out of his jacket pocket. He dumped a small portion on the table. He locked eyes with me and gestured toward the pile.

“Sir, are you sure you want to be high for this? I think the memories will be a lot more enjoyable if you can actually remember them,” I offered.

“I don’t want to be high for this. I want you to be high for this,” he stated simply.

I laughed. “Sir, I won’t be able to do my job as well.”

“That doesn’t matter to me. Come on, just take a little,” he tried.

“What is it?”

“Just a small mixture that I made. It’ll help you relax and feel better.” If only that were true.

“Sir, I don’t-”

“Look, I paid extra for this so I’d like you to do whatever I say. And since when did dancers turn down free drugs?” he spat. He had a point, that’s probably why he was able to lure so many girls. I took a deep breath, careful not to let him see it, and bent over to sniff some up. I tried to take as little as l could while still looking like I was taking some. The feeling of euphoria crashed into me, just like it had the first time.

“Ready to start?” I asked, fighting hard to keep my balance and stay upright. He nodded with a hint of confusion and gestured toward the mini stage and pole in the middle of the room. I walked over to dim the lights, and started the music. For a split second, focusing all of my energy on the dance, I forgot why I was actually there. I was going through the motions repeating to myself that I had to stay clear headed. When it got to the portion of the dance where I would basically be right on top of him, I hesitated. I had no idea what his plan was or how he got the girls out of the room, and by now he had definitely messed with the cameras, so my safety was left to my ability to activate my bracelet.

Here we go.

I strutted over to him, and bent over, sticking my ass high in the air. I quickly went to sit on his lap, slowly swishing my hips from side to side. The moment I actually made contact with his legs, he pulled a knife out and held it to my throat. His other hand quickly clasped over my mouth.

“Would you be a doll and come with me for a second?” he asked, sounding smug. I moved my wrist slightly to let the extra chain with the button fall into my palm. I squeezed as hard as I could. Hopefully the message got sent. I nodded, trying to avoid getting the blade pushed into my neck any farther. He slowly stood up, careful not to actually hurt me, and started backing up toward the exit that only staff here was supposed to know about. I was surprised that he completely abandoned the drugs like last time. That wasn’t typically part of his MO until he got thrown off by Amanda.

Finally, they burst into the room, all aiming their guns right at me. Well, right at the guy behind me, who was currently using me as a human shield.

“Drop the knife,” Morgan said. My heart was pounding and my eyes were watering, both of which I attributed to the drugs.

“I will kill this whore right now if you don’t back up!” he yelled. Emily was standing the furthest away by the door. I tried to make eye contact with her, attempting to burn holes into her face. She looked at me, and I slightly tilted my head toward the back door Dom was headed for. She looked at me bewildered. I directed my eyes in the same direction, willing her to get the message. Realization struck her face, and she slinked out of the room.

“You don’t want to do this, Dom,” Rossi said.

“Why would that be?” he hissed.

“If you kill her, we will kill you in an instant. You will never get to fully develop your drug or sell it, which will earn you a lot of attention in prison,” Rossi said.

“And on the streets if you get out,” Morgan pointed out.

“You won’t ever let me out. And they will think I’m a weak whore-killer in there, even if I do have new drugs,” Dom said, his voice defeated.

Shit. That is not good. He’s about to give up and I’m willing to bet he’s gonna take me with him.

“Dom, just set the knife down. We can work this out, get you a deal. We can tell them you cooperated,” Rossi tried. It was a hollow effort. I felt Dom’s arm tense up and his grip tighten around the knife. I closed my eyes and clenched my jaw, preparing myself for the blow that was bound to come. I emptied my mind, praying to the god I never believed in that I wouldn’t go to hell, ready to give into the drugs and whatever darkness was sure to follow.

But it never came.

My ears rang and a sudden stinging sensation was coming from my left collar bone. The knife fell to the floor with a clatter and Dom was quick to follow. That’s when I remembered that Prentiss had snuck out to come through the back entrance. I lifted my hand to my collar bone, the warm wet blood that I already knew was there coating it. I turned to face Emily who was holstering her gun, my body finally succumbing to the stress from the entire day. I let myself fall into her arms, and be dragged under by the drugs coursing through my veins at a rapid pace. She held me tight and helped me out to the ambulance that was somehow already there, whispering in my ear that I was going to be okay the whole way. Spencer was pacing out front and the moment he saw me, tears sprang into his eyes. He was next to me impossibly fast and I allowed myself to be swallowed up by his embrace, taking in his scent and basking in the safety of his arms.

“Let’s get you over to a medic,” he said, steadying me with his grasp, ushering me toward one of the ambulances. I nodded and sat down on the edge as a man in a white uniform reached for a stack of gauze. He started working on my cut while the other paramedics wheeled out an injured Dom Forester, chained to his gurney.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

The paramedics insisted that they take me to the hospital because of the sheer amount of drugs in my system and my ‘irregular heartbeat’. I tried to convince them I was fine but to no avail.

When I woke up, Spencer and Emily were sitting in chairs near my bed, looking like they had decided to hibernate. I scanned myself, realizing that I was in a hospital gown. Someone must have reverted me back to Aundreya, taking my wig, contacts, and outfit off. Next, I scanned the room. There were three trays full of untouched food on the table next to me. I started to reach over to the table on my left when Spencer, panic in his voice, said, “Stop! Don’t do that!”

I paused, my arm hanging in mid air over the bed. “What?” My voice sounded fogged.

“You will damage your stitches,” he explained. All of his sudden movements and talking woke Emily up.

“Oh, good. You're up,” she said, casually.

“Yeah, about that. Why was I asleep to begin with? And what am I doing in a hospital?” I asked. It was weird, but over the 24 years of my life, with all that has happened, I’d never once been to a hospital, let alone be the reason for my visit. I mean, I’d been to the gang’s ‘ER’ but I didn’t really count that.

“I came behind you and shot Dom in the leg. It forced him to buckle under his own weight, but he made a last-ditch effort to slice your throat. He must’ve caught your collar bone on his way down,” Emily explained.

“And once we got you to the paramedics, you insisted you were fine, but they took you here in an ambulance anyway. Good thing they did because two minutes into the drive, you passed out,” Spencer told me.

“Passed out? From what?” I was confused. Nothing I could think of was ‘pass out’ worthy.

“Probably just the combination of stress, blood loss, and the drugs. Because you’d had two doses of a highly toxic drug mixture within one day, your blood was pumping through your body very quickly, causing you to lose more blood than usual. It’s honestly a miracle you didn’t just have a heart attack,” Reid informed me. I nodded, slowly able to wrap my head around that.

I wonder how many times I’ve almost had a heart attack and died due to drugs but didn’t.

I’d really never thought about it before.

“That was actually something I’ve been meaning to ask you about,” Prentiss led in.

“What?”

“I mean, skipping over the fact that you were able to take a mixture of drugs and tell us each drug that was in it, which is crazy, but how were you able to take the first dose, and then be completely fine within a few hours? Most people would be hopped up for like the next couple of days. Not to mention, you took a second dose within the same eight hour window, and not only survived, but could stay clear headed long enough for us to take down an unsub. Then you wake up just two hours later? Come on. What is your secret?” She sounded concerned, but actually kind of in awe, almost eager to hear my answer.

“Like I said, I just have a super high tolerance to drugs,” I stated.

“Come on, there’s gotta be more than that.”

I shook my head. “Sorry. I don’t know what to tell ya.” She looked incredulous and I don’t blame her. We all knew I was hiding something but she let it go. “Hey, what happened to Morgan’s cousin?”

“Oh yeah! We got Dom to tell us where he was keeping her, and she’s here in the hospital and is okay!” Reid cheered.

“Wait, what? I thought for sure that-”

“She’d be dead? That’s what we all thought. Turns out, the incident with Amanda threw him off so much that he needed a successful abduction before he could rebuild his confidence enough to kill her,” Reid said.

“Wow. That’s great news. I’m glad she’s okay. And Morgan?” I questioned.

“Ecstatic,” Penelope said, entering my room.

“Penelope!” I said, with a smile. There was just something about her entire being that could just light up a room. She came to give me a hug.

“How are you feeling? Good enough to stand?” she pushed.

“Garcia! Give the girl a minute,” Emily said.

I laughed, “It’s okay. I’m good and definitely need to get out of this bed.”

She pranced out of the room, me in tow, down the hall to where Derek and Thia were standing. Derek beamed at me, and embraced me in those giant teddy-bear arms. “You do not know how much this means to me,” he said, looking over at Thia. “Honestly, I cannot thank you enough for everything you’ve done. Risking your life to help someone that I care about … I just really appreciate it,” he said. He seemed speechless, which left a smile on my face. I enjoyed seeing him this happy and relieved after a rough couple of days. “I’d like you to meet my cousin, Cindi. Cindi, this is our new teammate, Aundreya, that did most of the work to help us find you.”

I laughed and extended my hand. “That’s completely inaccurate, but it’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” she said slowly, obviously confused. I flashed her a smile but quickly slipped in a warning look, expressing that I’d explain everything when we were alone. She smiled back, picking up what I was putting down.

That’ll be a fun conversation.

“You know, if I can’t convince you to let me help you, and you are going to continue dancing, I’m sure this one could teach you a thing or two,” Morgan said jokingly, tossing his head in my direction.

“What makes you say that?” Thia asked. I looked at him expectantly.

“Well, she told me she had experience with dancing but damn. That was not what I was expecting,” he said.

I looked at him, mouth slightly agape, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“They literally announced you as ‘Alionth: special guest star,’” he said, with his eyebrows up.

“He has a point. Why did they do that?” Spencer asked me. He’d already been on my ass earlier about it, the last thing I wanted was for him to pick up on everything and start asking me 21 questions.

“I told them to. It’d help sell it to Dom,” I stated simply. In order to change the subject I added, “You never answered my question, though. What were you expecting?”

“Look, I didn’t mean any disrespect, and if it wasn’t weird because we’re friends, I would’ve totally been tossing bills at you. All I’m saying is that you’re good,” he put his hands up in defense.

“Bullshit,” I said with a wink, “I’m great.”

[melyaliz]

Hey, Hey

Summary: Sometimes the person you want isn’t the person you need. 

Paring: Dick x OC

Notes: For @royslittleharper.  We both could have sworn I posted this but I checked all my posts from when I created this document and nothing soooo If I did I’m sorry and I’m posing it again. 

Also I’m a total slut for Willow Wing

Maia/Willow is @royslittleharper​

Jennifer is mine

“Hey”

“Hey”

Dick sighed as he walked slowly into Jennifer’s room. It had been days since the death of her best friend. The death that had caused the girl in front of him to lock herself in her bedroom barely eating or doing much of anything. 

He would have come sooner, would have done anything to be there with her. To sit with her while she mourned the loss of her friend, to help any way he could. Honestly, he would have done anything to open that door to the room she had locked herself in.

Instead of doing the one thing he wanted to do, he buried himself in his work. Unable to sleep, pushing himself on the streets of Gotham. Blaming himself for her sadness as he sat outside her door after every patrol. Praying she would open the door. 

To just let him in.

Bruce had just shrugged it off telling him that he never thought Jennifer was up for this. Alfred had informed him that some people needed space when they were dealing with these sorts of things.

Three days, three days of silent pain. Then the door opened.

But the person who had opened it wasn’t Jennifer.

Covered in a white blanket that made her look like some undead creature. Dark unkempt hair falling into her thin pale face. Her once bright beautiful eyes now dark and hollow. Sunken in surrounded by dark circles.

It hurt, Dick didn’t think it would hurt this much. It was like someone had taken his beautiful girl and broken her down into a shell of nothing. All he wanted was his Jennifer back. All he wanted was to do something, anything to make that sweet happy girl come back to him.

For her pain to go away.   

“I’m going back home” Jennifer mumbled slowing turning back toward her bed, “I just…”

“I’m sorry” his words gave her pause turning to look at him. Hollow eyes seemed to look through him as if Jennifer wasn’t truly seeing him there in front of her. “I wish… I want” he stuttered trying to find the right thing to say. The right thing to help her. 

Her arms wrapped around him pulling him to her as she buried her face in his chest. Just holding him close, as if maybe, maybe if they held on to each other it would make all this darkness go away. Maybe she could fight it off.

“I’m just sorry” Dick muttered burying his head in her hair “I don’t want you to go, but I think you need it get away.” Dick finally admitted rubbing her back.

“And Dick I…” she looked up at him

“We can make it work,” he said, unable to keep it in. fears of losing her stronger than he even realized. The moment it was out though he knew it wasn’t right. She winced at his words as if they had caused her physical pain.

“It’s not fair.” Jennifer said looking away as if the sight of him was ripping her apart, “You deserve someone who is whole, someone who is happy.”

“I…” a million reasons ran through his head, she was just struggling, she would bounce back, back to that happy girl he knew so well. That girl he loved. But it wasn’t fair. It was selfish and he knew it. “I’ll always be there for you regardless of what label we are” Dick whispered kissing her on the forehead.

“Hey”

“Hey”

Speedy’s face was so close to her’s she could barely breathe. The smell of soot and grease from his arrows was so strong. There was a bit of debris smudged across his face, small speckles of dark brown mixing with his own freckles. Around them, total chaos rained. Yet for that brief moment when he had pulled her out of harm's way, Willow felt like everything had gone still.

“Can you guys just kiss and get it over with or join the fight?” Robin’s voice said over the mics. Speedy let out a laugh rolling his eyes as he arm reached for an arrow in his quiver only to find he was empty. Willow held one up for him which he took gratefully.

“We’re just friends Robin.”

Robin’s voice laughed over the coms “In that case, Willow want to get burgers after this?”

The look on Speedy’s face was priceless. So priceless in fact that Willow couldn’t help but flash him a smug smile as she leaped forward shooting two ice arrows at the one flame henchmen who was giving Beastboy a run for his money.

“Can I get a Milkshake too?”

“You can get anything you want,”

“It’s a date boy wonder.”

“Wait what?” Speedy’s voice just a pitch higher than it should be. Causing something in the back of Willow’s mind to grin with glee. As if maybe she could pretend he didn’t just like her as a friend. Maybe there was something more. Even if it was just her own imagination. 

“What Speedy? I thought you said you guys were friends?” Cyborg said speaking Willow’s own thoughts as he pummeled a henchman into a brick wall.

“I’m just surprised is all, I didn’t know you guys had a thing.”

“We didn’t, but we do now,” Willow said winking at Robin as he leaped forward taking out the flamethrower before the guy could punch Willow.

“Hey”

“Hey”

Dick’s wide smile slowly faded to match the slight scowl on Maia’s face. “What?” he asked as he sat down next to her on the roof of her apartment building. Her hands fiddling with a small trinket, two arrows crossed together.

“Roy got me this for my birthday,” she mumbled handing him the necklace. “It’s part of a matching set, it’s supposed to mean together forever.”

“That’s nice” his words guarded, knowing there was more to this story. 

“Yeah and then he proceeds to tell me he can’t hang out tonight because he has a date.”

“Outch”

“Basically.”

“Well… I know what we could do to pass the time while he’s being an idiot.” Dick said leaning forward, his hand slipping over her’s. For the first time that night Maia smiled.

“Oh?” she giggled before Dick gently kissed her, she kissed him back. It was gentle, filled with slight excitement. No hesitation only confidence, much like the boy himself. It was one of the things Maia loved about Dick. His confidence. He seemed to have this ability to push himself forward with only sheer will. A will that seemed to motivating the world around him.

Maia grunted as Dick slowly pushed himself to top of her. Her back slowly laying down only to get poked by some debris on the roof. One pesky stick, in particular, was poking her right in the rib. Dick quickly pulled away looking at her in concern.

“You ok?”

“So good” Maia smiled putting her arms around his neck pulling him back into another kiss before pulling away again, “How about we continue this in a more comfortable setting?”

“What? You don’t want to make love out here under the stars?” he asked as he grinned at her cheekily.

“What stars?” Maia asked looking up at the gray sky. It was nearly impossible to see stars with the city lights. Dick looked up as well only to get poked in the face with that stick.

“Race you” Maia sang wiggling out from under Dick and dashing toward the fire escape quickly descending. Dick’s laughter ringing in her ears as she bolted toward her apartment.

Dick flipped through the open window of Maia’s apartment landing on his feet. Maia rolled her eyes “Ok show off”

“Only when a pretty girl is present,” Dick said pulling her toward him. Maia sighed as she let her fingers slowly play with the hem of his shirt.

Tagging: @royslittleharper  @the-shadow-of-atlantis @coffee-randomness @daisyboobear @werewitchling @nightwing-rules @jayne-writes  @christmascass @guns-n-lilies

[heroineimages]

Bree’s date with Becca

So in my first story about my pikewoman OC Bree, Bree mentions going on a date to the theater with her future wife Becca. I went ahead and wrote that scene out, just for the heck of it, if anyone is interested. There’s a few things I’m not super happy with, so feedback is most welcome. (Also, my other Bree story.)

“I suppose it was entertaining, on the whole,” Bree admitted as she left the theater, arm around Becca. “The acting was competent, and I liked that they were able to make the melodrama semi-comedic without it feeling overdone or silly. But at the same time the story and characters felt overly… trope-reliant, and making the elf princeling’s forbidden half-elf lover a lad instead of lass didn’t really add anything to the story.”

“Those’re fair points, but you’re missing a lot of the literary and cultural context,” Becca explained. “The play is high elf in origin, and high-elf society is often highly insular and untrusting of outsiders; stage romances between elves and half-elves or non-elves always serve as cautionary tragedies in high-elf theatre. Human characters are always depicted as near-sighted and reckless, dwarves are always greedy and untrustworthy, wood-elves are flighty with short attention-spans, Halflings are either sneaky or flamboyant to hide ulterior motives, and gnomes are hardworking and trustworthy but ultimately kind of dumb. Half-elf characters, meanwhile, either struggle with their divided parentage in ways that ultimately lead to their tragic downfalls, or they seek disproportionate revenge on their elf-parent out of bitterness for this aforementioned divided parentage—depending on whether they’re a protagonist or antagonist. And keep in mind that all of the characters are traditionally played by elf actors.”

“Sounds like a lazy, ethnocentric set of tropes, to me,” Bree scowled, though somewhat amused at the thought of some elf acting on his knees with a fake beard and dwarvish accent. “But I think I see what you’re getting at. By taking this traditional high-elf play and casting humans as humans, dwarves as dwarves, and half-elves as half-elves, the producers are deliberately satirizing those lazy, ethnocentric stereotypes, thereby thumbing their noses at the original elf writers.”

“Well, and elf theater in general tends to take itself far too seriously,” Becca added. “They’re hyper-focused on maintaining authenticity—especially as far as costume, setting, period, and staying to script—and tend to discourage deviation and experimentation with the original material. Which, frankly, takes all the fun out of their theater and is probably why it’s largely inaccessible to non-elf audiences,” she shrugged. “It’s why I love seeing this kind of experimentation with high-elf drama.”

“Good evening, Corporal,” Lady Theodora’s voice came from behind them. They turned to see the tall Aasimar noblewoman smiling politely, hands clasped in front of her scarlet dress. It was a surprisingly humble gesture that felt out of character to Bree. But then, Bree was used to seeing her ladyship wearing enchanted mithral plate armor, wielding a poleaxe or zweihander, and splattered with blood from some giant-kin or goblinoid. “I thought that was you. I appreciate seeing my people immersing themselves in culture during their leave time—I wasn’t aware that you enjoyed the theater,” her lady said.

“Fair evening, my lady,” Bree bowed in return. “And yes, I’ve enjoyed theater since I was a girl. My father helped build the theater house in my hometown, so we went fairly regularly. He, ah, knew people who could get us free admission. You’ve met Becca?” she asked, introducing her girlfriend.

“I don’t believe so,” Lady Theodora admitted, taking Becca’s hand. “You are Sergeant Orrin’s widow, yes?”

“Yes, my lady,” Becca smiled. “It’s lovely to meet you at last.”

“I apologize that I was unable to give my condolences in person,” her ladyship offered, clutching Becca’s hand in both of hers. “I was on an expedition in the Underdark with part of the company, and didn’t learn of his death until after the funeral had taken place. How have you held up, my dear?”

“I’ve gotten by,” Becca admitted, “though the months since his death have been… difficult, emotionally. And every day it saddens me that my Amya will have so few memories of her father, and Adorabella will have none at all.” She sighed, wiping a tear. Bree slid a comforting hand up and down her back.

“But Bree has been my saving grace,” Becca continued, smiling again and sliding her free arm about Bree’s waist. “I don’t know how I’d have handled any of this without her.”

“I’m pleased to hear that,” her ladyship said, squeezing Becca’s hand once more before turning to pat Bree’s shoulder. “I’d tell you to take good care of her, Corporal,” Lady Theodora smiled wryly, “but I suspect I needn’t worry on that account.”

“Of course not, milady,” Bree smiled back.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, my dear,” her ladyship bowed politely.

“And you, my lady,” Becca bowed back.

“A pleasant evening to both of you.”

They watched for a moment as Lady Theodora left. Bree smirked to herself as her ladyship linked arms with a delicate Moon-elf courtesan with bright blue hair.

Keeping their arms around the other’s waist, Bree and Becca discussed drama and literature as they made their way home. It had been a pleasant evening, all around; the girls were with Orrin’s mother, giving Becca a much-needed night off. On leave for a few days, Bree invited her to attend the local theater. Becca wore a dark blue dress with a black corset while Bree wore her cream-and-crimson surcoat, dress uniform, infantry gloves, and her corporal’s broadsword.

Bree leaned over to kiss the top of her tiny girlfriend’s head. They were such an oddly complementary yet contrasting pair. Both had dark hair, Bree’s the shade of dark chocolate, while Becca’s was more of an obsidian color. Both also had browned skin, Bree’s from her southern-coastal heritage and years on the campaign trail, Becca’s from her wood-elf grandparents. But, gods, their height difference was jarring. Becca was tiny, slender, delicate, and barely as high as Bree’s armpit. Bree was a colossus by comparison: tall, broad-shouldered, and fairly muscular. Lifting Becca in her arms took virtually no effort; in fact, Bree’s chainmail and campaign kit easily weighed more than Becca did.

Becca’s house wasn’t in the worst part of town, but it was as deep into the rougher parts of town as the constables were willing to venture at night. Stabbings, muggings, and burglaries were not unheard of, and both of them felt safer when Bree stayed the night while on leave. This wasn’t to say it was an entirely bad neighborhood—good people lived there and looked out for each other when necessary. But as a small, half-elf widow living on her own, Becca was particularly vulnerable to break-ins, mugging, or even rape. While Orrin was alive, she’d been one of the safest people in the neighborhood, none of the local hoods wanting to mess with a veteran infantryman, nor incur the wrath of Lady Theodora’s company by taking out one of her soldiers.

Hence another reason Bree continued to visit Becca and her daughters. Though not as experienced as Sergeant Orrin had been, Bree was taller, stronger, and more physically imposing. Too, Bree wore her uniform, surcoat, and broadsword when she came to visit: a reminder that she was also part of the company and not to be messed with.

At least, that was the theory.

Bree felt a zephyr of movement as they passed the alley next to Becca’s favorite bakery. It was all the warning she needed for her training to kick in. She stepped back and unwrapped her arm from Becca, twisting to her left to let her surcoat partially deflect the dagger thrust. Gripping her assailant’s wrist with her left hand, she jerked him off balance and stuffed her right elbow into his throat. The sandy-haired half-elf attacker gagged and stumbled, but kept his grip on the dagger. Twisting his arm upside-down, Bree slammed her elbow downward against his, breaking his arm. She finally released his wrist as the half-elf dropped his dagger and staggered back, screaming and clutching his arm.

Not drawing her sword just yet, Bree stepped into an unarmed-combat stance, keeping her body between the alley and Becca. Two more thugs—human teens—stood at the mouth of the alley, daggers drawn but looking hesitant.

“Now, this is interesting,” Bree commented, eyeing her opponents but keeping her senses open for attacks from other directions. She felt Becca’s hand gripping the back of her surcoat. “If you were just random footpads, you’d have either run for it or come to your friend’s aid by now. But you’re hesitating—which means you know something that’s making you uncertain of whether it’s worth trying. Tell me what you know, and you walk away under your own power.”

“Don’t tell her shit,” the injured half-elf managed to grate out. “Get her!”

“I kill bugbears and ogres for a living,” Bree informed them calmly. “Three footpads with cheese knives can’t do much more than annoy me. Trust me that you’ll want to come clean on this.”

“G–Gideon Freeling,” one of the youths stammered. “He–he hired us to take you out. It w–was supposed to look like a mugging turned violent.”

“And then he just happens to show up to ‘rescue’ me at the last moment,” Becca suggested icily. Bree could almost hear her scowling.

“Who the hell’s Gideon Freeling?” Bree asked, not taking her attention from their attackers.

“A yeoman merchant who’s obsessed with me,” Becca explained louder than expected. “He inherited his father’s little trio of merchant scows, but, unlike his father, he gets his lieutenants to do all the work. He used to come around even before Orrin died, trying to bribe or sweet-talk me into running off with him.”

Bree felt the edge of her mouth curl as she realized why Becca was talking so loud.

“The man’s a disgusting hobgoblin-spawn who thinks he’s entitled to whatever he wants and can’t accept the fact that someone said ‘no’ to him,” Becca fumed, though Bree could feel her tiny hand trembling as it clutched the back of Bree’s surcoat.

“My dear Becca, that’s hardly charitable,” a new voice objected, storming in from another nearby alley. Gideon Freeling was a tallish, slightly muscular, basically handsome human male with wavy, dark-brown hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. Bree noted Freeling wore cheap imitations of some of the local nobles’ doublets and hose. She suspected his rapier was an heirloom of some kind. “I’ve been entirely generous with my gifts, but—”

“But my affections can’t be bought!” Becca cut him off with a snarl. “You want to know what I did with all of the gifts you gave me? I sold them! I sold them and used the money to pay for rent or groceries. During a good month, I put the money into a fund to pay for my daughters’ schooling once they’re older.”

Freeling looked taken aback. “Dearest Becca, why didn’t you tell me of your financial—?”

“Because it wasn’t any of your fucking business,” Becca cut him off again. “I love my husband and my daughters—and I love Bree. I don’t know what made you think you could steal me away from them. The biggest mistake I ever made was ever attempting to be polite to you. I should have told you to fuck off that first time we met!”

“But a woman so beautiful as you deserves—”

“For hell’s sake, this isn’t about what you think I deserve!” she snapped. “And it’s even less about what you think you deserve. Stay out of my life!”

“You! You turned her against me,” Freeling accused, jabbing a finger at Bree.

“Really?” Bree cocked an eyebrow. “You’re going to take that track? I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit.”

“I saw you at the good Sergeant’s funeral,” the idiot went on, still glaring. Bree didn’t recall seeing him but didn’t really care if he was telling the truth or not. “Already you’re taking advantage of a disenfranchised widow. You’re naught but a thug in a uniform: a common mercenary and an infantrywoman at that. Good for nothing but fodder for goblin arrows.”

“I can also hammer nails and saw boards pretty well,” Bree shrugged, crossing her arms. “Or did you not notice the repairs to Becca’s roof and door?” she asked, motioning her head toward Becca’s house, just down the street.

“Ogreish barbarian,” Freeling mocked unimaginatively, drawing his rapier. “I challenge you to a duel! Defend yourself!”

Bree made sure his hired footpads were staying out of the fight, then shifted to face the lout, adopting a bare-knuckle stance. The footpads were, in fact, in the process of skulking away while her attention was on Freeling.

“What are you doing? Defend yourself!” Freeling demanded, gesturing to her broadsword.

“I am,” Bree said.

Scowling, Freeling adopted a competent fencing pose, a sign that he’d had lessons at some point and maybe practiced a bit. Stepping in, he thrust the blade at Bree’s chest. Bree dodged a step to her right, then stepped in to grab Freeling’s right wrist with her left hand. Gripping his doublet with her right, she flipped him up in the air, over her head, and onto his back hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

Stepping up beside his prone form as he lay gasping for breath, Bree used the toe of her boot to kick his rapier into the air, catching it left-handed.

“I have to ask, Freeling, exactly what were you expecting to accomplish?” Bree wanted to know as she pointed the tip of the rapier at his throat. “Even if you somehow managed to kill me, what makes you think you’re even in the top hundred candidates for Becca’s undying affection, let alone directly after me and Orrin? Just something to think about.”

Raising the rapier, Bree let Freeling pull himself into a sitting position. “Consider yourself lucky,” she warned him. “I’ve no qualms about killing you, but that kind of thing reflects badly on the company. And, frankly, I’ve had entirely too pleasant a night to want to spend the rest of it down at the constabulary. But if you ever come near Becca or her family again, I swear I will beat you until there’s blood in your stool, understand?”

Without waiting for his reply, Becca turned and laid the rapier atop the bakery’s door sign, high out of Freeling’s reach. Down the street she could see the hired footpads slinking away, one of them supporting the injured half-elf. Bree was slightly surprised none of the neighbors heard the ruckus and decided to investigate, though it wouldn’t have surprised her if a few were watching from their windows.

“I’d vouch for you if you did decide to kill him,” Becca admitted, taking Bree’s arm as they continued homeward.

“He’s not worth the trouble I’d get into,” Bree assured her. Behind them she heard Freeling fuming as he tried to retrieve his sword. “I’ll let you watch if I ever find need to beat the hell out of him, though,” she offered.

“I’d pay good money—” Becca cut off in alarm as she noticed blood on Bree’s surcoat. “Oh my gods, you’re bleeding!”

“Yeah, a little,” Bree shrugged, looking at the gash below her left breast. Her surcoat’s crimson dye made it difficult to spot. “That half-elf dinged me on that first stab. Bastard keeps his knife plenty sharp.”

“Gods, you’re lucky the knife wasn’t poisoned,” Becca murmured, blood on her fingers as she examined the wound. “Lucky Gideon didn’t hire some Drow assassin to take you out.”

“If it’d been a Drow assassin, or any professional assassin, really, I wouldn’t have heard them coming in the first place,” Bree admitted.

“You’re not reassuring me,” Becca scolded. “C’mon, let’s get you patched up.”

They were silent for several minutes as they continued homeward. “Is that why you didn’t draw your sword?” Becca asked as they approached her front door. “Because you didn’t want to accidentally kill him?”

Bree chuckled to herself. “No, I didn’t draw my sword because I’ve never fenced against a rapier.”

“What?” Becca stopped, frowning up at her with one hand on the door handle. “But… you’re a professional soldier!”

“I’m trained to fight with polearms or with sword and shield,” Bree explained. “I can defend myself well enough against an opponent with a longsword or broadsword, or a mace or axe, but rapier-fencing is a different art entirely. A rapier fighter keeps their sword arm forward at all times, while an infantry fighter keeps their left shoulder toward their opponent, for example. Plus, his rapier is longer than my broadsword, so drawing on Freeling would have given him advantages I didn’t want him to have. On the other hand, I know how to box, grapple, and wrestle, which let me use my height, strength, and leverage to my advantage.” She shrugged as they entered the house. “When I took his sword earlier is the first time I’ve ever even touched a rapier.”

Becca just stared at her for a long moment. Eventually she grinned and closed her eyes, shaking as she chuckled silently. “I suppose bugbears and ogres don’t tend to carry rapiers very often,” she giggled. “Meanwhile, poor, stupid Gideon is terrified of you because you bested two armed opponents tonight with your bare hands—and you made it look easy.”

While Becca left to fetch bandages, Bree sat at the kitchen table and removed her surcoat and doublet. She was going to get one hell of an icy scolding from Miss Cloven, the gnome woman who was the company’s head laundress, Bree realized as she examined the blood on her shirt. She pulled up her chest wraps to get a better look. The wound itself was more of a poke than a cut, really, she decided as she examined the injury. And it wasn’t that deep a poke.

“I… wow,” Becca murmured from behind her. Bree turned around to see Becca blushing in the doorway, holding bandages, ointment, and a washrag and basin. “You… you have amazing shoulders.”

“Good stock,” Bree shrugged it off as Becca wetted the rag and started cleaning her wound. “My parents, my sister, and my brothers are all tall and sturdy. And I grew up hauling boards and swinging hammers.”

“You’re practically an Amazon,” Becca teased, sitting on Bree’s left knee as she cleaned the cut.

“Not quite,” Bree laughed, shaking her head. “We’ve got three Amazons in the company, and the shortest is almost a half-head taller than me.”

“You’re still my Amazon,” Becca smiled up at her.

Bree watched her tiny girlfriend work, again struck by the size difference between them. Even while sitting on Bree’s lap, Becca’s head wasn’t much above Bree’s shoulder. Bree had been with a few Halfling ladies who were smaller than Becca, but some of them not by much.

“Y’know, it’s kind of funny, I’ve always been so intimidated by people a lot bigger than me,” Becca admitted. “I’m not very strong, and I’ve always been scared of people who could easily overpower me. But I always feel so safe with you. I–I know that you’ll protect me, no matter what,” she said as she finished applying ointment.

“Of course I will,” Bree assured her, kissing the top of her head.

“This isn’t very deep,” Becca said as she looked over the wound. “The bleeding already stopped, and I don’t think you’ll need bandages.” She set the bandages aside and snuggled closer, tucking her head against Bree’s shoulder. Bree wrapped her up in both arms.

“Draxa, that Drow teammate of yours, told me something interesting the other day,” Becca said after a moment.

“Draxa says a lot of interesting things,” Bree shrugged, trying to anticipate where this might be going. With Draxa it was hard to predict.

“She confided that you haven’t lain with anyone since before Orrin was killed,” Becca explained. “She said that the two of you used to visit brothels together or pick up buxom tavern wenches. But you haven’t participated in almost a year. Do you mind if I ask why not?” she asked, looking curious but not accusatory.

“Because I met you,” Bree answered, simply and honestly. “Even though I enjoyed drinking and wenching with the other infantrywomen, I enjoyed my time with you more. Talking with you, drinking tea, fixing your roof, reading stories to your daughters: I found all of that more… fulfilling than getting drunk with my comrades or getting laid with random tavern girls.”

Becca’s big, dark eyes studied her for a long moment. “Even when you’re away on campaign, you still didn’t get laid because of me?”

“I was saving myself for you, and I didn’t want to rush you or pressure you into anything you weren’t comfortable with. And I especially didn’t want to rush things while you were mourning your husband.”

“You don’t have to save yourself any longer,” Becca whispered, leaning up to kiss her.

It was a nice first kiss, Bree decided as they held close. There was something honest about the way Becca kissed—honest in her passion and feelings. She had none of the exaggerated passion of some camp-follower hoping for extra coins nor the nervous enthusiasm of an ale-girl taken in by the novelty of a woman hitting on her. As they broke their kiss, Bree lifted Becca almost effortlessly, carrying her toward the bedroom.

“Please, be gentle,” was Becca’s only request.

Bree chuckled. “I don’t have much practice with ‘gentle,’ but I’ll certainly do my best,” she replied, if somewhat self-deprecatingly.