#there's a bunch of old US coin types where you need to look really close into that loop to tell that the 8 is actually intended to be a 3

[thetriggeredhappy]

recently rediscovered your blog and read the fic from your dad spy au where scout starts out as the "guard" and then becomes scout from there and lemme tell you that shit put me on some s-tier brainrot. like a cranial decay type beat.

i had a concept in my head that instead of being hired as a guard, he could have been hired as a right hand man to the administrator like pauling, because i think hed be awesome in that position. like imagine having a personal merc who can get in fast and out even faster. but maybe he would stay in the base like the rest of them, sort of like a secret on call intel gatherer, who also maybe sometimes has to dig a couple graves. and also like, nobody on the team expects anything from him at first because its this 20 year old newbie kid. hes dressed in his formal clothes and he talks like somebody from relatively around boston but not quite. i can just imagine one day he comes back during a team dinner with his shirt half untucked and stained with blood, hair disheveled as he asks soldier if he can borrow his shovel, or him debriefing them for a mission when miss pauling is busy. same vibe as the fic i mentioned before but scout gets to have a job as cool as miss paulings. honestly id write it myself if i didnt have the attention span of a fly

anyways your scout content gives me life thank you

scout teamfortress but 20% more competent standing next to miss pauling teamfortress while she's doing her job and doing like silly quips and otherwise contributing nothing like it's a buddy cop film is literally my fucking ideal

(warnings for some canon-typical violence)

-

“Oh, Pauling, it’s good to see you again,” greeted the chairman, smiling in an imitation of a grandfather and clasping her hands perhaps too-kindly considering she barely knew him. “Young as ever, and still so stylish, I see. And who’s the new fellow?”

“He’s just here to help with transport, Mr. Montgomery, nothing unusual,” Miss Pauling replied, returning his smile and adjusting her glasses. “Heavy cases, you know how it is.”

“Of course, I remember you almost toppling clean over last time we made a trade!” Montgomery agreed, frowning at the memory. “You’ll pull a muscle that way, better to be careful. It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man. And your name?”

“Mr. Normandy, sir,” the new kid replied easily enough despite his slight East Coast accent, giving the man a firm handshake, expression neutral and stony, the picture of professionalism. Internally, Pauling breathed a sigh of relief.

“Firm grip there, young man,” Montgomery praised, nodding approvingly. “Tennis player, perhaps? Or golf?”

“Baseball, sir,” he replied, still evenly. “First baseman.”

“Ah! Of course! Were you any good?” Montgomery joked.

“At everything but playing in front of the crowds, otherwise I’d be in the major leagues,” he replied, tilting his head just slightly to imply that he was joking, his sunglasses glinting at the movement, and Montgomery barked a laugh.

“I like this one, Miss Pauling!” Montgomery said, and Pauling just barely caught herself from physically relaxing at it.

“We do too, Mr. Montgomery,” she agreed. “I was under the impression that you’re very busy today, so we won’t keep you for too long, we just wanted to sort out the final details surrounding the manufacturing rights for the—“

“—Pacific Northwest branch, up into British Columbia and Alberta, of course,” Montgomery agreed, nodding faintly. “Of course, of course.” He turned to regard his own man in a dark suit, the one standing to the right, who appeared to be unsuccessfully trying to stare down Normandy, who was completely ignoring him. “My briefcase, please.”

The man handed over the briefcase, and Montgomery put it on his desk, opening it and pulling out a sheaf of papers. “All our requests are submitted and approved, at this point we just had a few dustbins to take care of regarding initial percentages and making sure everything is wired to the correct accounts, which names are undisclosed, things like that,” Pauling explained as he glanced through the papers.

“Right, right, everything looks good here,” the man murmured, nodding to himself, sending his long-white hair just ever-so-slightly out of place. “I’m assuming these more sensitive documents should be sent some way besides through the mail?”

“If you finish them today I can take them with me, otherwise either me or Mr. Normandy can return to pick them up at your convenience,” she replied, to which Normandy gave a singular nod.

“Oh, it would only take me a short while,” Montgomery said, waving a hand. “We have a lovely lounge just down the hall from here if you’d prefer to wait there, it should only take me ten, fifteen minutes at most. In the meantime, I do believe there’s also the manner of payment for services rendered.”

Miss Pauling tilted her head just slightly to one side, confused.

“I arranged with Helen already,” Montgomery explained, not looking up from where he was initialing a few things. “The payment, rather than being wired, she asked to be made in material investment. A venture of mine from years ago that she’s willing to sit on. Rather than gold or bonds, she agreed to take some old currency of mine that my family collected, from early 18th century New Zealand and Australia. Monetarily it’s worth around the same, and I’m quite a bit attached to it to be entirely frank, but it was at her request to buy the whole collection from me, and after years of the work we’ve been doing together, well, I’d never trust it with anyone else.”

He gestured to the other man, the one on his left, who stepped forward to hand him a manila envelope, which he passed to Pauling.

“Inside is both keys, the door alarm codes, and all other security information for the building where the collection is being stored. They’ll ask for a few codes and confirmation of identity, only because several other art collections and artifacts are being stored there by other affluent individuals such as myself.”

“Thank you, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling said, taking the envelope gratefully.

“Think nothing of it, my dear. Helen talked me into it all her own,” he said easily enough. “Now, gentlemen, if you would let Miss Pauling and Mr. Normandy into our lounge? I should have these wrapped up before any of us can even think about lunch, eh?”

One of the suits showed the two of them through the doors and down the hallway, through two doors bracketed by similar suits who simply nodded politely at Pauling and ticked their chins at Normandy as they passed them.

Normandy posted up beside the door for all of three seconds before they shut and Pauling pulled her glasses up, rubbing at the bridge of her nose and making a vaguely distressed noise. He then promptly relaxed, instead leaning his hip against an armchair probably worth the same amount as a small car. “So, uh, we’re glad that he’s giving us a bunch of commemorative coins from when dinosaurs still walked the earth?” he asked just below normal speaking volume, eyebrows raised.

“Yes. Very glad. Because unlike about six people total on the planet, he hasn’t figured out yet how valuable those are.”

“What, is a picture of a kangaroo on some copper really gonna make up for a couple hundred thousand American dollars?” Normandy asked, sounding doubtful.

“Not copper. Something else,” she replied. “I can’t tell you much more about it other than that, but these coins are made of something priceless to us. And to the Administrator.”

“…Love? Memories? The magic of family?” he joked, cracking a smile, and she rolled her eyes, moving to open the envelope and start reading the papers inside. “Hey, uh, not to question whether my job should exist, but what the hell am I doing here, exactly? Besides carrying a briefcase. Like, chivalry isn’t dead but I really don’t think you need me carrying your bags and holding the door for you.”

“You’re helping with security, basically,” she replied, adjusting her glasses to squint at tiny handwriting about the collection. “Mr. Montgomery is trustworthy, but he mostly hires out to… well, people like us. His security detail is mostly people we’d rather have screened, freelancers, stuff like that. A lot of people we contract out to are like that. Most of them have heard about me and know better than to try and pull something, since I can hold my own pretty well, but if they haven’t, seeing a second person might persuade them to think it over again.”

“Oh, so I’m like, uh, when it says ‘tow zone’ next to the no parking signs even though nobody checks, or when they’ve got a camera in the corner of the store that isn’t even plugged into anything,” he said, and the looked up at him, confused. “Like, uh, what’s the word… I’m a casual deterrent.”

“Sure,” she said, because it sounded like he knew what he was talking about, shuffling the papers back away and closing the envelope again, making a note to ask the Administrator if she should change their current containment procedures to be closer to Mr. Montgomery’s. “Just… if there’s a fight, you deal with it, otherwise you just stand there and look like you’re paying attention.”

“That’s what the sunglasses are for,” he agreed. “I was blinking morse code at the guy across from me literally the whole time.”

“You know morse code?” Pauling asked, surprised.

“Just the alphabet, ‘S.O.S.’, and ‘ass’.”

She rolled her eyes again, and that’s when the door opened.

She expected Mr. Montgomery, not one of the men in suits. “Excuse me, both of you, if you don’t mind,”the man said, accent having the slightest English tilt to it, a Londoner if Pauling had to guess. “You’re Miss Pauling, the Mann Co. affiliate, yes?”

“That’s me,” she agreed, hesitant, and glanced at Normandy.

“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. Mr. Montgomery have you the wrong envelope on accident,” the man said apologetically, extending a hand forward. “We apologize for this unfortunate mix-up, it’s really quite embarrassing, but those documents are sensitive and we’ll be needing to see them back now.”

Pauling looked at him, and within a moment, shifted her expression. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she agreed, nodding. “No, right, of course. These aren’t the papers for the currency collection?”

“I’m afraid not,” the Brit agreed, head tilting just slightly, hand still extended, moving a fraction further forward.

“Well, thank goodness we figured out now and not with us halfway back,” she joked, and moved to hold the folder closer to her body. “I’ll take this right back to Mr. Montgomery, then.”

“He’s sent me to correct the error,” the man explained simply.

“Right,” she said, and saw in her periphery that Normandy had already started sneaking a hand in towards his primary, clearly having pieced together something she was only suspecting. “We can bring this to his office, then, right down the hall.”

“You misunderstand,” the man said, taking a step forward again. “I’ll be taking it to his office myself.”

“That’s funny,” Pauling said. “I didn’t realize you had clearance to be in there. Or to be carrying a semi-automatic instead of a standard handgun.”

The Brit reached for the semi-automatic, and before he could even get it out properly, Normandy hit one clean shot to the side of his head and another to his thigh, sending him crumpling to the ground.

Pauling had only as far as pulling her own handgun free, thumb on the safety, and breathed a sigh of relief, glancing over at Normandy, shifting to more comfortably hold her gun. “Quick reflexes,” she noted.

“Just noticed a lot sooner, maybe,” he shrugged, stepping forward to glance over the body, tucking his gun back away.

“What was your hint?”

“He’s here to give us the right folder, yeah? Well, why were his hands empty, then?”

She was just starting to nod and realize that as well when a second man shouldered through the door, holding a gun at the ready. Normandy scrambled to draw his own, but Pauling fired a shot into his knee, shoulder, and neck to send him dropping before he was even close. “There’s quick on the draw, and then there’s prepared,” she said pointedly. “Gotta think of if there’s more than one, new guy.”

He nodded, and drew his gun again, bending to hit the guy on the ground at the temple hard enough to knock him out if he wasn’t unconscious already. He then glanced up at the sound of a shout from the other side of the door, two men shouldering through, guns drawn but lowered. It was only the firm eye contact they made with both her and Normandy that made her pause the millisecond it took to realize these ones weren’t trying to kill them.

“Pauling, what on earth is going on here?!” Montgomery demanded, entering the room and staring with wide eyes at the bodies on the ground. “What could’ve possessed you to—“

“He was trying to run off with these documents,” she explained quickly, gesturing with the envelope. “He knew whatever was in here was valuable.”

“He drew his gun, sir,” Normandy added, tipping his head down towards the body, and Pauling glanced down as well and found herself a little surprised. He’d rearranged the man just slightly, apparently, adjusting the arm to be holding the gun a bit further outward. “Other one was aiming to kill.”

“My, my,” Montgomery tsk’d, shaking his head as he surveyed the scene. “What a mess. My apologies, Miss Pauling, Mr. Normandy.”

“It’s alright, but you need to start doing more thorough checks on your staff, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling stressed.

“He’s only been here two weeks, sir, he was one of the men we hired in a hurry after the incident last month,” one of the bodyguards said, and Montgomery shook his head.

“Thank goodness nobody was hurt,” he sighed. “Mutiny, and besides that, they’re bleeding on my carpet. Here are those papers, Miss Pauling—what a day, eh?”

“It’s really alright, we handled it,” Pauling assured him, giving her bravest smile, a little exasperated now.

“Right, right, you and the first baseman,” he agreed, and Normandy fought back an actual smile.

“If you’d like, we can take care of those for you,” Pauling said, gesturing at the bodies. “To pay you back for the carpet and the scare.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Montgomery agreed, clearly relieved.

-

“My dad’s gonna be pissed, by the way,” Normandy was so helpful as to say on the way back up the path to the base. “And you’re fielding that.”

“About the suit, or the fight?” she asked, glancing at his clothes where he was somewhat covered in a fine dusting of mud and grime from the gravedigging, shovel still in his free hand.

“Both. Mostly the fight. Your fault for saying it’d be an easy one to start with,” he said.

“If it was going to be that much of a problem, you wouldn’t have gotten this job. I’d just have made you go do dishes all day or something,” Pauling replied.

“Point taken,” he said, walking ahead to get the door, holding it open for her. “Wait, we’re allowed to mention what we do, right? Just not names?”

“Or locations, even with travel distance. Round up to the hour if it comes up,” she replied.

“Sure, sure,” he agreed, trailing a step behind her as she led the way through the base.

In the common area, there was a bit of a ruckus happening. Soldier, Heavy, and Demo appeared to be having some kind of arm wrestling competition on a rapidly-toppling table, the Engineer was on a stepstool trying to fix the ceiling fan, and Sniper appeared to be half-watching the beginnings of an argument between Pyro and the Spy regarding use of the oven as Medic patched up a burn on his arm.

“Hullo,” Sniper greeted the two of them, sounding a little bored, Medic giving them a brief, polite nod. Normandy’s eyebrows were raised pretty far as he surveyed the room.

“Hi, Sniper,” she greeted in return, then cleared her throat, raised her voice. “Team meeting in five minutes! New mission for next week!”

Groans from the room at large, the eight mercenaries starting to finish up what they were doing and filing out. Spy moved over, glancing over Normandy and starting to talk to him in rapid-fire French, picking smaller bits of gravel off of his suit as they walked.

“Alright,” she addressed the room, Normandy peeling off from getting mother hen’d by Spy to stand next to the blackboard with her. “Monday, you’re all going on a transport mission. Getting the truck from point A to point B with everything in the boxes intact. Already we’ve had to put up with some people trying to get ahold of these things, so bring your guns.”

“Oh, our guns, you said? Lads, this is a serious one, keep your heads on a feckin' swivel, she’s sayin’ we might even need guns, can you believe it?” Demo faux-gasped, and chuckled when Spy bopped him on the arm, rolling his eyes at the Scot's theatrics.

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved off, flipping through the papers a bit. “So Engie, I’ll need the keys to the truck, me and Normandy are going to be loading those tomorrow, all of you need to be at this drop point bright and early.”

“How early?” Heavy rumbled.

“Six. Hour and a half of drive from here.”

Some complaints from the room that she sighed at.

“Hey, hey, calm the hell down,” Normandy cut in, and she glanced over at him where he had his arms crossed and a stern look on his face. “You chuckleheads get to have all eight of you to unload the damn thing, me and Miss P gotta do all the rest of this on our own and probably kill twenty guys on the way there and back. She had to be up at 6 AM, workin’ since 7 AM, lunch break at noon and nothin’ else, and we just got back now at, what, fuckin’, 10, 11 PM? Any of you work her shift and then see if you even got the energy to complain about wakin’ up early, how about that?”

The room went utterly devoid of complaint or backsass. “Thank you, Normandy,” she said politely, and he just nodded once, glancing off to the side. “Anyways, anything new on this end? Spy, how are you adjusting?”

“Very well,” he said simply. “I have nothing pressing to say. Once I’ve been updated from the stock weaponry provided here to my requested preferred weaponry, I believe I should do just fine.”

“I see you already have Herr Normandy digging graves,” Medic chimed in. “Straight into the hard labor, ja?”

“Eh, hey, y’know, it’s why they keep us young people around,” he shrugged, grinning, and there was a brief uproar to drown out Medic’s entirely offended scoffing and Spy’s snort-laughing.

“Get ‘im, lad!” Demo cheered, and Normandy indeed looked fairly proud of himself.

“Monday, transport mission,” Pauling noted over the noise, writing it up on the chalkboard to hide her own smile from the room. “Normandy, you and me are doing the boxes tomorrow. Everyone on the same page? Good. Dismissed. Oh, and Pyro—stop taking the fire alarms down when they beep. They’re beeping because you light things on fire in the base. Do that outside.”

“Oh, hey, uh, helmet guy, All-American Beef,” Normandy called, and Soldier straightened up. “Here’s your shovel back. Gettin’ my own tomorrow.”


Soldier walked directly over to him, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “That’s a high honor, Cadet,” he said, tone grave. “Do not take this responsibility lightly.”

“I, uh, I won’t?” he said hesitantly, and blinked a few times as the shovel was carefully taken from him before it was promptly marched from the room in double-time. Only then did Normandy look over at her. “So he’s always like that?”

“You’ll get used to it,” she assured, dusting chalk from her hands. “You should get to sleep soon, we have to be up early.”

“Sure thing, Miss P.”

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #my fanfiction #dad!spy #father-son bonding au #shut up me #que? #in this au he picks a fake name like she does. later i think demo starts calling him norman and some of the others do as well as goofs #also apologies for montgomery i couldnt quite get away with not naming random rich guy. just barely scraped by with guards one through four #everybody talks

[party-gilmore]

...well, I managed to get to literally JUST BARELY before the actual smut starts, so please enjoy this unbetaed 2k word teaser prologue of "demi/grayace Parker doesn't feel like she's Enough for Eliot without Hardison around, so he sets the record straight."

Set during The Hurricane Job, because who gives a damn if the ep is even OUT yet, am i right? XD

“Room 236.”

“What was that?” Eliot hums. His voice is muffled beneath the heavy, sopping weight of his jacket as he tugs the damn thing over his head. His shirt peels off right along with it, so he just shucks the whole shebang in the generic direction of his luggage. He’ll have plenty of time to see to it properly tomorrow - the storm will have them trapped at least another day. With a groan, he stretches out his bad shoulder. It’s not quite dislocated again, but it’s not quite right either. Two nimble hands sneak up from behind and flit their way over the shoulder blade, one bracing against the wet neck of his white tank top while the other presses swift and hard on the joint - and ‘pop’ goes the weasel.

Eliot flashes Parker a pained but soft smile through the old dresser mirror, but it falters when he catches her eyes peeking over his shoulder. There’s a look in them he isn’t familiar with, but doesn’t think he likes.

“Park-” he starts to turn around, but she manhandles him back away from her and shoves her hand into the back pocket of his jeans. No small feat tonight, they way the rain has soaked and damn near suction cupped them to his ass. “H-hey, woah, alright there darlin’, slow it down a bit,’ he chuckles, reaching back to feel for her, but she’s already hopping back and flashing a small, colorful rectangle at him.

“Room 236,” she repeats, flipping it around her fingers like a coin. Eliot frowns. They’re in room 225, just down the hall. They’d found what the crooked cops were after with time to spare, so there was nowhere left to search. Why then, would he still have a room key for-

Oh. He reaches back and pats the offending rear pocket, flushing as he remembers Marshall Shipp’s parting flirtatious wink and accompanying gentle smack on the ass as they’d parted ways a half hour ago. He hasn’t exactly been… discouraging her interest. It's felt good that women are still interested in him even as he’s put a few more miles on, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the attention - especially from someone as 'his type' as Maria.

Well, what used to be his type, at least.

He shoots a sheepish, apologetic grin at Parker. Maria’s ‘interest’ was quickly becoming ‘intent,’ and now Eliot needed to find a way to nip that in the bud sooner rather than later.

“Damn, I should’ve noticed the reverse lift,” Eliot clears his throat, toying with the edge of the pocket absentmindedly. “She must’ve slipped it to me after we completed the radio broadcast. I was uh, distracted by our success I guess.”

“Bet that’s not all she’d like to slip you,” Parker’s voice takes on a bit more of a playful tone for a moment. Cheeky, teasing. It feels like solid ground.

“Hey now,” Eliot teases back, starting to undo his belt, slow and deliberate, as he begins toeing out of his boots. “I can’t help that I still ‘got it,’ darlin’. I can think of a couple folks I know offhand that might like to, uh… 'slip me a little something' right now, 'specially since I'm properly alone with one of 'em for the first time since-” The only problem is, he forgot how damn difficult these boots are to get off on a good day, let alone when soaked through with salt water. Swearing under his breath, he abandons his attempt at being suave to sit at the end of the bed and fumble with the ties. He should know better than try to look cool for either of his partners nowadays. It never works out quite right, and he’s starting to get to the age where he doesn’t even see the use of that kind of posturing anymore himself. They’ve seen him at his worst already - mentally, physically, emotionally - so what would be the point, really? On top of that, he may make a fuss about his ‘cool points’ in front of Breanna, but he knows Hardison’s sneaky ‘dorkification’ process he's been slowly contaminating Eliot with over the last decade is almost complete. He's still drawing the line at DnD, but he doubts that'll last much-

“...or, if you wanted, you could go let her slip it to you.”

Eliot is too caught up in his own head to really register the suggestion at first. He's busy ruminating on how differently his younger self would be handling this whole situation - all smooth moves and hot edges, shucking off clothing with a kind of casual grace.

‘Yeah, those days have long passed,’ he thinks, hunched over and fighting the waterlogged leather of his boots with fumbling, aching fingers. He gets the first one yanked off his foot less than gracefully, wincing at his ankle’s unsubtle protest, before what Parker said finally processes.

Slowly, he sets his singular boot the side and shifts enough to face her. Parker’s tone didn’t hold any bitterness or bite, just nervousness and a bit of resignation. She isn’t looking at him, but out the window, arms wrapped tight around her midsection in a way he hasn’t seen her do in a while. She bounces restlessly on her heels. There’s a clear energy inside her looking to get out. The thunder rumbles lowly through the suddenly silent room, murmuring a warning through the curling reverberation in Eliot’s gut.

He starts out gentle. Easy.

“...now why would I wanna go an’ do somethin’ like that?” Sometimes it’s easiest to bring things to Parker head on, and she’ll respond in her usual stark, frank manner. Just lay it all right out in the open to be picked apart. This isn’t one of those times. Eliot can read that much in every restless tap, every rapid twitch of her eyes to some place else in the room, any place that isn’t him.

“She’s your type, isn’t she?” Parker’s voice is a higher register than it should be, but not quite into her panicking zone yet. That’s a start. “She’s badass, sexy… passionate.”

Eliot notices her leaning heavy on that last word, and frowns.

“So are you, Parker.”

“Not in the same way!” She turns a bit, still looking outside, but her arms unwrap from herself to gesture between them. “Not the same way you and Hardison are!”

It’s quiet for another beat. The white noise of the hissing rain against the window settles into the room with a steady, thrumming tension. Eliot doesn’t jump to demanding clarification like he might’ve done a decade ago, doesn’t snap and tell her to stop beating around the bush. He’s learned that Parker tucks away all the information he needs to understand in every phrase, no matter how inane or incongruent it may seem. So Eliot holds his tongue and chews on the words for a while.

“Me and Hardison, huh?” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and rubs his jaw in a performance of pensiveness. The movement draws Parker's attention and she finally looks over to him, following the back and forth of his fingers. He presses on, carefully. “Thought we were talkin’ bout me and the marshall. What’s Alec got to do with this?”

“Because he isn’t here!” Parker breaks, not enough to falter or crumble but enough to say what's on her mind before she can overthink it. "He isn't here and it's different! I can feel it! I'm not-" she fumbles her words for a minute, just waving between them again. "-all passionate about the whole sex thing like he is!"

There's that word again. Eliot knows where to go from here, at least. It's all about that word. He stands up, albeit a little awkwardly with one foot still in an inch high boot.

"Sure it's fun and I like it sometimes, but not like you two do! Alec balanced me out, could give you what you needed! I'm not… by myself, I'm not enough for… for y-..." Parker cuts herself before she can grow any more manic, bunching her face up and looking away again like she does when trying to stave off any waterworks before they can start.

Eliot can see her closing up again as her words fail her, but that's alright. What needed to get out made it out. He can take it from here. He hobbles over in his awkward, single-socked gait until he's close enough to take her shoulders in hand, but he doesn't pull her in for the hug. Not yet.

"Now I want you to listen to me, and listen good." Eliot makes sure his tone is firm, but gentle. Parker responds the way he'd hoped - still not looking, tilting her head down, but leaning toward him. Into his space. Receptive, and ready to hear him. "Yeah, it feels different. That's cause you and me? Are different from me and Alec. We're always gonna be. 'That makes us, us,' remember? Just like that's different from you and Alec. It's all part of 'us,' yeah, but it's… we got our own thing, Parker. And sure, we might like it best when it's all three of us, just because we love him so, so much, yeah?"

He lifts one hand from her shoulder and tucks a bit of hair back behind her ear, giving her a chance to respond if she wants. Parker murmurs a quiet "yeah," and steps in a little closer. Eliot tugs her in the rest of the way now, assured that she's open to the touch. She pillows her chin on the shoulder she fixed, and Eliot lays a light kiss to the outside of her ear before continuing in a lower voice.

"So… we miss him, when he's not here, and we don't have the 'all three of us' thing right now. That doesn't make our thing, the you and me thing, any less good. It doesn't- Parker, you're so much more than just enough for me. You're who I need... especially when we don't have Hardison. Don't ever doubt that."

"I'll try," Parker turns her head and mutters it into the crook of Eliot's neck, and he loves her all the more for it. It's better than any empty promise of 'I won't,' because he knows the honesty of it. Knows it's not just an empty platitude of 'I'll do it,' but the vulnerable admission of 'I want to, but don't know if I can.'

"That's all I ask, darlin'."

Because it is. That's all Eliot ever asks of her. To try. Never demands that she change, never insists she should be thinking of herself differently or more kindly than she does. Just that she tries to.

"Now. About this whole 'passion' thing," Eliot sighs, pulling back so he can do that thing he does to Hardison that Parker loves to watch him squirm under, but likes it a lot less when it's turned on her. That thing where he ducks his neck and tilts his head and looks up at her through his hair with that serious, intimate look that makes her want to run because he for sure can see all of her secrets like this but also want to sink deep into that comforting gaze and never leave it. "I don't know where you got this idea that you're not passionate from, but-"

"Yeah, but it's not-!"

"The same?" Eliot cuts off her half-hearted attempt at argument. "Course it's not the 'same' as us, Parker! You aren't us. So, you… you don't lose yourself in it the same way me and Hardison do, okay? Him and me, how we get high off each other, the way we act... so you don't do that. That's fine! That’s only one type of passion, darlin'. You can't tell me,” he lets his hands skim down Parker’s arms until they meet her own palms. “That the way you focus so damn hard on taking us apart - taking me apart…”

Eliot brings Parker’s hands to his hips, and her fingers start to fidget with the hem of his shirt. Anchoring herself with the ribbed texture of the tank. Starting to explore up his stomach the way Eliot knows that Parker knows he likes. She’d ferreted that one out of him ages before they’d even thought up this whole ‘you and we makes three’ train. He lets his voice go a little breathy, a little raspy, makes sure she notices how she's affecting him. “-the way you always know exactly how to do it, piece by piece, single-mindedly pulling me apart like a damn puzzle, Park… you can’t tell me that ain’t some kind of passion.”

“Yeah, but that’s just the same way I steal stuff,” Parker giggles a little, the familiar flutter of Eliot’s sides under her deft fingers grounding her and soothing some of the unease. He’s right about this. How she knows what to do with him. How good she is at it. But that’s not anything special, it’s just-

“Exactly, Parker,” Eliot is trying to walk them back toward the bed, but it’s not really working out well. Between his having only the one boot on and Parker actively seeking out the ticklish bits of his belly that make his knees go all wobbly when she scrapes her nails down them, it’s comical enough to startle another giggle out of her. Or it’s a sob. Or it’s a hiccup. Or it’s some weird combination of all three, she isn’t really sure, but it doesn't seem to really matter either. The sound is whatever it was, just like she is whatever she is.

“It's just like that. Just like how you plan your next score. And that’s your Thing. Like me and food, Hardison and his nerdery... Do you realize how that makes me feel? Knowing you treat me like a heist? Like the thing that you let define you?”

“Yeah but that’s not a sex thing, it’s just a me thing.”

“It doesn’t matter that it’s not a sex thing, Parker, it’s your passion. Your Thing. Yours.” Eliot finally makes it back to the edge of the bed and drops, pulling Parker into his lap. He guides her wandering hands to his chest so she can feel the rumble in his voice as he growls.

“Darlin’, you treat me like damn masterpiece. Like I’m standing smack under a spotlight in the middle of the Louvre, and the only thing in the world that matters to you is how you’re gonna pick through my security piece by piece until all that’s left under your hands is a canvas stretched tight as it’ll go and a picture meant only for you and the people you choose to see it."

Parker’s nails scrape against the skin of Eliot’s collarbone as her fingers instinctively curl in, wanting to grip take steal hold climb, and he barely restrains himself from throwing his head back in a moan. He needs to make sure Parker’s in the right place first, before he gives himself over to his own wants.

“Wow,” she whispers, damn near reverent now as she looks down at him. There’s a dawning in her eyes that tells Eliot they’re alright. That they’re gonna be good. That it’s okay to pull her tighter and ask her to go ahead and steal him again tonight, since he knows her rigging is secure.

"I can't imagine anything more passionate than that."

“Uh-huh, ‘wow' is right,” he laughs breathlessly, and reaches up to take hold of her chin. It’s a light grip, barely any pressure where he between his thumb resting on the front and the rest of his fingers curling around under her jaw, but she lets Eliot guide her down until their lips touch. Not kissing, yet, just touching. His mouth moves against hers as he speaks, tongue briefly darting out to wet two pairs of parched lips. “-so tell me, why the fuck would I want to go to anyone else?”

“Maybe if you got some bad advice,” Parker murmurs, voice strong and confident again for the first time since they wrapped up the con. “From someone who didn’t realize she made you feel that way?”

“Hmmn, that could make sense,” Eliot hums back, resisting the urge to roll up against her in wet jeans that would only serve to chafe rather than provide any of the friction that having Parker in his lap always makes him crave. “If someone could help me get this damn boot off, maybe I could get to work making sure she’ll never forget it?”

#fic writers wait for no production team #leverage #leverage ot3 #eliot spencer #parker #eliot spencer x parker #OT3 established but background due to Redemption's whole plot and also the point being about how two of the 'cule function with one absent

[candycityy]

Some (established relationship) Rivetra birthday crack/fluff, ft. awkward!Levi, because I can.

Levi sucks at giving gifts.

Maybe it's just the fact that he's awkward as fuck, but the notion of having to find something nice for another person fills him with equal parts dread and exhaustion. Honestly, how would he know what they'd want, anyway? He'd much rather just shove a couple of coins in their direction and call it a day.

The whole concept of gifts had been a culture shock to him, after leaving the Underground—not that he didn't understand what it meant to get someone something, but just the whole song and dance about it, of how every even remotely special occasion called for a gift of some sort. The first time he'd heard of it, a squadmate was asking him to contribute something to Erwin's promotion hamper, and he'd almost snorted, assuming it was a joke; the fucker had just been promoted to Commander of the Survey Corps, honestly, wasn't that gift enough?

Fortunately, his squad knows better than to ask him to contribute things; they just ask for money whenever they're doing a group gift, which he's happy enough to part with. And with matters outside the squad, well...he still doesn't really get why people thing he's so fucking terrifying, but in this, at least, he's happy to be excluded.

Well, until now. Unlike him, Petra actually does enjoy gifts; she's one of those crazy people who likes giving them, who handwrites cards and wraps presents in nice paper and glittery ribbons (another thing he doesn't get. He's supposed to spend time and money on wrapping paper that's just going to get torn into shreds?) and somehow, considering how they're dating and all, he doubts she'd be content with his usual fare of a few coins and a curt happy birthday over breakfast.

He briefly considers staging a training accident; surely, she wouldn't expect a gift from him if he were in the med bay recovering from a debilitating but non-life-threatening injury?

"Aha," Hanji says, briefly pausing in her monologue about Titan reproduction (he hadn't been listening in the slightest, but that's never been a deterrent) to point her spoon dangerously close to his face. "I recognise that look. You're thinking again, aren't you."

"None of your business." He pokes morosely at his dinner, and misses. The tines of his fork strike the porcelain with a rather unpleasant metallic screech that makes them both wince.

"It's not a good look on you, you know," she comments, shovelling a fragment of potato into her mouth as Levi watches with barely veiled disgust. "Thinking. You're much better off playing the role of the macho action hero, all brawn and no brain—"

"I will stab you with this butter knife," he threatens, with a kind of despondent savagery. The woman just leans on her elbow and waits, perfectly unruffled.

He chews, swallows, and after a long pause, finally admits, "Petra's birthday is coming up."

"And you're thinking about what to get her?" Hanji smirks. "Sweet."

"I'm thinking about why surface-dwellers have so much time and energy to bother with stupid things like gifts," he grumbles, spearing a chunk of broccoli with more aggression than strictly necessary.

"Well, they're a welcome distraction from the terrors of daily life, don't you think?" She pushes her goggles up her nose with a kind of practiced impatience, and continues, "I think...Petra probably would want something heartfelt. You know, something you wouldn't give to anyone else."

"I wouldn't give anyone anything, from the start."

"You know what I mean." Hanji rolls her eyes. "The gift's gotta make her feel special. Maybe something with a sort of significance, or meaning, or...oh! Something handmade? How good are you with handicrafts?" She eyes him, looking rather less hopeful than he'd like. It rankles him.

"I'm pretty good at carving," he snaps. Hanji brightens.

"Ooh. Wood?"

"Flesh." He shovels the rest of the stew into his mouth, ignoring her snort of indignation, and stands up. "Don't choke on your food, Four-Eyes."

==

In his time in the Underground, he'd learnt precisely two things about food: one, to defend it with your life, and two, if you chuck a bunch of ingredients into a pot and apply heat, you can call it a casserole, which is a fancy-sounding name for something that barely counts as a dish at all.

Furlan, being unable to cook for his life, had been put on permanent ingredient-gathering duty (read: theft) instead. Isabel, on the other hand, had an irritating tendency to get distracted, disappear off to fuck-knows-where with the food still on the stove, and promptly forget all about it. By the process of elimination, Levi had took over most of the cooking.

Being easy, flexible, and requiring very little attention, casserole had quickly become his signature dish. And yeah, he wouldn't call himself good by any means, but as far as he's concerned, no-one'd ever gotten food poisoning from a dish he'd made, which he counts a win.

Still, he figures that not poisoning anyone is a pretty low bar to set for a birthday dinner for his girlfriend.

For the eleventh time since entering the store, Levi wonders if he should just forget it. Get her some bauble or trinket, that glittery shit that girls always like. But against his will, Hanji's irritating voice drones in his head: something heartfelt. Something you wouldn't give to anyone else.

Levi scowls darkly at a shelf of cheese. "What the fuck's the difference between cheddar and mozzarella, anyway?" he mutters to himself, before giving up and shoving both into his basket.

He continues wandering through the store, grabbing whatever he thinks will go well together. He barely glances at the price tags as he goes, too distracted by his thoughts—does she like chickpeas? Or was it lentils? Are those different?

(Of course, he pays for his inattention dearly, when the cashier coolly informs him of his total and he almost chokes. Well, he really should've known; the storekeeper in the Underground always did seem to loathe them with an aggressive vengeance.)

==

Carrots—potatoes—beef. Levi measures out the ingredients carefully and scoops them into the pot, eyeing the stew bubbling cheerfully over on the stove, and allows himself a brief moment of smugness.

He's outdone himself, even if he says so himself. Everything's been planned, down to the last detail. In the morning, he'd presented Petra with a new fountain pen, a perfect decoy gift, especially since she'd mentioned earlier how she'd been needing one. He hadn't missed the flash of disappointment in her eyes—shitty Four-Eyes had been right for once, he supposes—but she'd schooled her expression into one of appropriate delight quickly enough, and exclaimed over it as necessary, and he'd known she'd fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.

He's even timed this whole dinner thing perfectly, getting the guys to keep her back for a bit after training (which they'd agreed to, albeit with some snickering) so he could prep for the meal. She'd be in the showers now, he guesses; and now, with the brick oven all heated up and the dish nicely in place, he probably has about twenty, thirty minutes before the next step of the plan, when he'll go to retrieve her from her room under some pretense or another, lead her to the dining hall, and—

"Levi? What's going on?" Petra rubs her eyes, strolling into the room and and sniffing the air curiously. "Are you—are you cooking?"

What the fuck.

"Petra." He tries his best to block the stove, desperately searching for a way out. "You're back early. This is, uh...an experiment. For Hanji. It could blow up any second, so off you go now."

Petra does not oblige. Her eyes narrow, and she tries to peek around him. "Your experiment is stew?"

"It's not stew, it's...Titan bait," he improvises wildly, making her brows lift in disbelief. "Seriously, Petra. Go away." His eyes dart to the wall clock; he needs about fifteen more minutes, at least. "Didn't Eld...didn't the guys ask you to stay for a bit?"

She shrugs, still craning her neck to try to see the contents of the kitchen counter. There's a hint of a grin on her face now. "Auruo was bragging again about something-or-the-other, and bit his tongue, and I slipped away in the commotion. Levi, is that cake?"

"I told you, it's Titan bait. Now get out, that's an order." He tries to keep his tone cold and steely, a feat which is proving much more challenging than usual with his very pretty, very annoying girlfriend standing on tiptoe, trying her best to peek over his shoulder.

Judging by her expression of keen amusement, he fails quite spectacularly.

"Levi," his irrepressible subordinate goes, her eyes gleaming, "your cake—sorry, Titan bait—says 'Happy Birthday, Petra'."

With a frustrated exhale, he gives up trying to block her, and slumps back to the kitchen counter. Petra waits, tapping her foot, still looking thoroughly amused. Her hair is still damp from the showers, he notices. But despite the fact that she has a towel around her neck and is dressed in a ratty old t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants—her standard evening attire—his breath catches in his throat. She's beautiful.

"Okay, fine," he grumbles, tearing his gaze away. "I'm cooking. It's for you. Happy birthday. You're still a brat."

She laughs, and the sound makes his lips pull into a reluctant smile, too. "I never took you for the domestic type, captain," she teases, leaning into him and winding her arms around his back. "Stew? But didn't you already give me a gift, though?"

"Casserole," he corrects. "It sounds fancier. And that was a decoy—this was supposed to be a surprise. I mean, I thought...since it's the first time you're having a birthday, well. With us, like. Together." He clears his throat, and silently wills himself not to do anything stupid and embarrassing, like—Walls forbid—blush. "Remind me to have a talk with Auruo, will you."

"Well, count me surprised," she says, leaning in and grinning up at him.

He rolls his eyes.

"Anyway. Since you're here so early," he goes, gazing at her with a look of utmost seriousness, "here. You can help to chop the onions."

Petra blinks, indignant. "Seriously?"

"Nah, I'm kidding. That's for ruining my surprise, you brat."

==

"...Levi?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"Happy birthday, Petra."

#rivetra #levi x petra #attack on titan #levi ackerman #petra ral #aot fanfiction #candycity writes

[mxvladdy]

True Form- Mammon

The boys are cute in their devil forms I’ll give them that. But I want something more monstrous lol. Here are some headcannons of mine of what the boyos look like outside of their glamours. 

I’m not doing the gang in any particular order, all will be accounted for in due time. Just my favorites come first :p

No, I regret nothing and yes I would still 10000% smooch the monster.

Next up: Asmodeus 

Mammon

- Interestingly enough, his human glamour shows none of the wounds he bears from the celestial war. But his true form? It is a testament to his strength and a stark reminder that he is the second strongest of the cardinal sins. 

- Mammon takes the shape of a great winged beast. The original number of his wings have been lost to time but old records speak of ever shifting numbers. Should he lose one two would grow in it’s place type deal. All that remains of their splendor are three mismatched ones on his back. Since they are not even he is incapable of flying, but he can still glide for quite some distance and with tremendous speed. 

- He resembles a mixture of a crow and Strix. He has four large taloned feet that can carve through rock and slice though even demon flesh with ease. His multitude of eyes are bright and simply mesmerizing. Like the twinkling of stars in the night sky. His eyes are the only physical trait left of him from his time as an angel. 

- Old scars pepper his hide under his oily sheen feathers. When he shifts they flash the briefest hints of silver and faded pink. But, the most noticeable wound on him is his beak. The upper mandible is broken, the front half blasted away leaving behind a jagged mess of bone. The magic used against him makes it impossible for him to regrow it. He remembers clearly the blow that marred him. It is one of his recurring nightmares. 

- He keeps a den, hidden from the other brothers deep in the Devildom forests where he hoards all his most precious items from over the millennia. Whenever things get too much at home he will come here to lay amongst his treasures and reminisce of simpler times. 

Mini fic 

Mammon could feel the need brewing deep within him. The gnawing emptiness slowly eroding at his psyche till it was all-encompassing. His brothers possessions calling to him like a sirens song day in and day out. Goldie simply wasn’t going to be enough this time. He needed his cave, his little sanctuary, carved out in secret so many years ago.  

He sighs lovingly. Just imagining the feel of currencies from empires long since fallen and priceless treasures offered to him in sacrifice under his talons feet was euphoric. His second skin ripples under his glamour in anticipation. Humming under his breath, Mammon takes the steps to the main door two at a time. In his excitement, he almost collides with the latest item of his attention. 

“Oi!” He barks, skidding to a halt in front of you. He makes a grab for your shoulders stopping you before you toppled down the flight of stairs.  He can’t help the smile forming on his lips to match yours. His human looks up from the files overflowing in their arms. The emptiness inside rattles its cage. Add them to the horde. His molars crack under the strain of his clenched jaw.

“Oh! Sorry, Mammon! It’s kinda hard to see around all this.” You smile sheepishly, scooting off to the side for him to pass. “Are you well?” You notice his stiff posture, hands clenching, and unclenching over your school uniform. He hadn’t let you go yet. 

Unsurprising really, he was one of the clingier brothers. Not that you minded. It was nice sometimes to feel so wanted. Though it was different this time. You could feel the ebb and flow of his magic rippling in the close space. Usually, he had the best control suppressing it in your company. It would have been terrifying if it had been another one of the brothers. Last time one of them ‘lost their cool’ had ended badly for you. “Mammon?”

“What?” He twitches, head jerking to an odd angle. His eyes turn sharp as he looks at you appraisingly. Hungrily. “Oh right, sorry.” The demon releases you. “I’m fine, just need to stretch my legs is all.” He pushes past, for once trying not to give into temptation. 

“Can I join? I need a break from all this paperwork. I know I said I’d help Lucifer, but damn.” You laugh placing the stack down on an end table. He chokes on the idea. Yesss~ his inner beast coos in delight. You were making this too easy. He could keep you all to himself, tucked away where no one else could have you. Lucifer would never know.

“I-I don’t want the company.” He grits out, rolling his shoulders in agitation. At himself or you, only the devil would know. “Ain’t a place for little humans.” His response is short and sharp. He could feel his talons growing under his nail beds. Mammon hisses in irritation, he didn’t want to scare you away. Not after everything else you’ve been through. 

“Oh…” It hurts him to hear you so dejected like this. Perhaps- you had handled a lot so far. One more thing won’t kill you. 

“Look-promise not to tell and you can join.” Mammon turns scratching at his neck. "I don't need my brothers knowing where I go. Our little secret?" 

“Our little secret.” You take his hand with a coy grin. 

It wasn’t a long walk. It was pleasant your warm hand wrapped in his. The connection quelled some of the avarice brewing inside. He approaches the edge of the cliff with satisfaction. The precipice looks down into the wilds of the Devildom. It was a beautiful sight really. The heavy gloam of eternal twilight cast a purple haze over the treetops. In the distance, the downtown district twinkle. Mammon exhales happily into the breeze. The wind was picking up. Good. 

Mammon turns to you taking in your apprehension. You lean over the side, looking down into the abyss. "This isn't much of a walk." You chuckle nervously eyeing the deadly drop. A strong gush upsets your balance. Squeaking, you grip onto his sleeve. Your little human nails dig into the leather of his jacket. Cute. 

"Not done yet." He sheds his glasses and coat folding them neatly by the ledge. "It ain't much farther, but it is a ride." He could shred the pants and shirt. Luci owed him a new wardrobe as is. Stretching his arms over his head he grunts. His remaining wings practically vibrate in anticipation. "Promise not to scream?"

"Scream?" Your question is lost in the ruffle of feathers and creak of bone. You gasp back away from the massive beast in front of you. Mammon stood beside you, his body almost blending in with the darkness around you. Dozens of eyes blink owlishly at you, they glimmer like diamonds. They are bright and breathtaking, the depth in them almost sucking you in. He clicks the remnants of his razor-sharp beak expectantly. "Mammon?" You approach, palms outstretched. 

He cocks his head to almost disappearing into the night as he closes all his eyes at your touch. He adjusts himself as you pet down his large head. Overly carful of where your hand was to make sure you are not in danger of cutting yourself with his damaged beak. "How many more layers to you brothers are there?" He laughs in relief, cawing loudly as you bury your hands in his feathers. "Ok. So what's the plan?"

Mammon crouches low bumping his shoulder to you. You take the hint and clamber onto his broad back. Shifting awkwardly he squawks as you pull some feathers. “Sorry! Sorry!” He turns and pecks at your hand gently. Pulling at your sleeves, he makes sure you have a good grip at the base of his neck. Feeling you settle he leaps. 

Bounding for the ledge, his strong wings flex and catch the wind. He glides on the gust with practiced ease. Years of plummeting and failure made this success all the sweeter with you there as he carries them higher. He could feel your laughter through his body. Your shouts of elation get swallowed by the howling around them. Oh, how he revels in it. He wants more of this.

The flight was quick. Before long he descends, unfurling his legs as he lands. Long talons cut into stone as he grasps the side of the cliff. Effortlessly he slinks up the side. The hard coils of muscle on his back and legs bunch and pull under you body. The sinuous roll of it causes you to grip him tighter lest you fall off. He purrs at the feel of you clinging to him. Perhaps he should keep you here, all to himself. Mammon reaches his destination and allows you to slide off of him to look about. 

The mouth of the cave was cast in heavy shadows from surrounding trees. The moon covered by clouds flashing briefs glimpses of deeper in. You follow as the Great Mammon lumbers past you to delve deeper.  Jogging after him, you place a hand on his flank trusting him to guild you. What did he have here? This looks nothing like a place Mammon would go to. He chirps and caws trying to talk though it was impossible to understand as he lead you down deeper. His tail swooshing excitedly behind him. It was sweet, his palpable joy rubbing off on you.

As you reach the inner depth of the cave you left go of him to shield your eyes. The sudden light accosting you. The inner cave was huge, eternal sconces lighting as he entered to reflect off of a dazzling array of items. Mammon crows smugly leaving you to gape at the entrance. 

The demon crawls into a nest made of gold and bolts of expensive fabrics.  Yawning widely, he wiggles himself deeper into the coins. Large crystalline eyes drooping pleasantly at the warmth of his cave. While he dozes you walk around the large treasure trove. You run your hands over no doubt priceless jewels and sets of armor. Clothes and jewelry litter the floor as maps and pieces of art cover most of the walls and ceiling. Their golden frames glowing from the light of the sconces making the space glow richly. He even had some tomes stacked neatly in the corner, each cover embossed with gold and silver. You pick one up intrigued by the design of the cover.

"You sure you were a dragon in a former life? " You ask flipping though a few pages before putting it back. Mammon snorts rolling his eyes. You grin eyeing his bed of treasures. "Can I join you?" It looked rather comfy and he obviously wasn't going to be moving anytime soon. Knowing Mammon there was no way you could leave this place without his help. So might as well get comfortable.

Mammon is silent for a moment before clicking his beak, wings opening to invite you in. You scramble up close grabbing a few stray pillows as you go. Making a mini nest of your own beside him you tuck yourself in. 

If a bird could smile he would be beaming at the feel of your body resting against his feathered side. Draping a wing over you he settles in for a nap.

Yes, you would be the perfect final piece to his collection.

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me mammon #monster fic #im not apologizing #obey me fandom #mini fic

[cloudy-leonhart]

Setting Sails and Setting a Relationship.

[Author Note: I thought of this during history class lol, might make a part two of Reader having more of a intimate meeting]

Summary: Levi and his squad got a job to arrest a secret group of thieves around wall Rose, Reader is apart of a group of pirates who have been travelling from Marley to Paradis, stealing for years. A Thieving Pirate meets a Germaphobe-Captain.

Pairings: Levi x Reader

Type: Feminine Reader

Theme: Fluff, Action, SFW

TW: Swearing, Details of Sharp Objects. (swords, knives, etc.)

[gif rightfully belongs to owner]

“Levi, good you’re here.” Erwin spoke, his hands held a bunch of parchment. Levi rolled his eyes and stood in front of the blonde’s desk.

“You called?” Levi’s sarcastic voice broke the silence, Erwin chuckled a little looking up at the irritated man. “Don’t need to be so tight, Levi.” The black-haired man sighed and dropped his head before looking back up. “Get to the point, eyebrows.”

“You’ve been assigned to arrest a group of thieves in wall Sina.” Levi’s eyes slightly widened, “Why me? Why not the military police or some crap?” Erwin shook his head, “They couldn’t catch them.” Levi scoffed and kissed his teeth, “bunch of lazy shits. Fine, I’ll do it.” He grumbled a few words under his breath as he left Erwin’s quarters.

 “Wait- Levi-” The man didn’t bother listening to Erwin call him back, annoyed that he had to do something as small as capturing a bunch of thieves. He walked into the mess hall, where his squad sat talking with each other. “Oi, get your asses ready, we’re going to wall Sina.” The man kissed his teeth once again as he walked away from his saluting squad. 

“Captain, why are we going to the Stohess District anyways?” Petra asked, riding their horse to Stohess District. “Apparently there’s a group of thieves so good, not even the MPs could catch them, it’s up to us to do so.” his squad lets out sounds of suprise, “Wait, if the MPs couldn’t catch them, what makes them sure we’ll be able to?” Eld argued.

“Me.” Levi answered, not looking back at the dirty blonde from his horse, Eld deadpanned as the rest of Levi’s squad snickered and tried their hardest not to laugh.

———

“Captain, we’ve been waiting for so long! What if they were just pulling out leg and we went here for nothing?” Oruo complained, leaning back against barrels of ale, waiting to be sold and opened.

“Shut your mouth and observe, Bozad.” Levi growled back, annoyed with the complaints the boy has been spouting for the past ten minutes, they observed around, watching the waitresses tend from outside the tavern, the loud cheers and wails from inside the old burned out inn.

Eld and Gunther stayed sitting by the floor, fiddling with their sword handles or making sure they have enough gas, if needed to fly around to get their mission over with. “Er- Captain?- Maybe Oruo was-“ Petra was silenced by Levi’s hand going up, his blue-gray eyes focused on a certain commotion with a neighbouring inn.

“Help!- Thieves! Thieves!” foreign-dressed people started piling out of the tavern, holding bags of bread and bottles of ale and wine, their waists carried bags of gold coins, probably pick-pocketed from the rich men that drunk until they were tipsy and toppling over themselves.

“There! Pull up your hoods and arrest every single one! Let’s go brats!” Levi’s voice sounded loud and boomed with every word, his pale hand reached for his hood, pulling it over this face and running to grapple his hooks onto a building and go after the thieves.

He counted heads earlier from when they ran out the tavern, seven he remembered, he knew that each of his squad would at least get one into custody by themselves so he only needed to worry about catching the rest. He watched from up above their actions and their tips and tricks, avoiding upcoming traffic, or avoiding carriages that carried a bunch of the finest goods wall Sina could get.

He could hear the whirring of strings in his ears as he unclasped his hooks from the building and rolled onto a top of a building, running as fast as he can to keep up with the big group. He glanced down, his eyes widening as the group of seven dismissed into groups of two or three, he grunted and turned back, “Petra! Gunther! Three went to the Left, arrest those thieves and help the others if needed, go!” He yelled out as he looked for a solution to round the thieves as fast as he can.

The thieves looked up, their eyes widening as he saw Levi’s figure get closer and closer, knowing if they don’t do anything to keep him from getting closer, they’ll be arrested and be punished by the king. “Captain! One of them’s getting too close!” One of them called out, a groan was heard, you pulled down your hood and passed your stolen goods onto the rest of the crew, holding onto the hilt of your sword.

“Get to the ship, help the rest if you need to and for the last fucking time, don’t look back!” You warned, stopping right in front of Levi, Levi growled and pulled out his swords, clashing right with yours, both of you held twin-blades, one pair was curved and the other, was detachable.

Your swords both clashed and clinged as you tried your best to fight off the short black-haired man, you observed the man’s next actions as he jumped away, holding his blades in defence. Levi hooked his claws onto the building behind you, gaining momentum before letting go and trying to slash you from up top, you watched as he spun around, you placed your sword up, defending your upper body while your other hand acted as a defence.

“I know these moves, you an Ackerman, kid?” You teased, Levi deadpanned and gripped his swords tighter out of annoyance and offence at being called a kid. He knew of his short appearance and he blames his malnutrition as a kid for it. He kissed his teeth and went to move in to try and corner you.

You and Levi both clashed swords once again, bystanders watched behind barrels in fear and curiousity, to the bystander eye, both you and Levi fought like it was a dance, you moved away and took defence in some turns while Levi took turns in offence. Finally both you and him stayed in a stance, fighting each other for the offence.

Your swords both shook as it screeched as it was being pushed against each other, “What’s it to you that I’m an Ackerman?” Levi asked, his teeth gritted as he tried to fight off your strength while piling his on you. “Nothing, your clan just really..” you leaned closer to his face, “really,” you smiled a mocking grin. “really, annoy me.” Levi’s eyes widened in anger and let out a yell of frustration, pulling his swords back to slam it down onto your figure.

Of course, being a thief has it’s perks, you easily slipped out of the situation, you knew you could’ve done it earlier, but deciding only now that you’ve bought your crew enough time to get back, you slipped away from Levi’s gaze as you started running and returning your twin blades into their respective scabbards.

Levi groaned in disappointment, he couldn’t believe he let you get to him, he shook his head to striving himself to focus back on you as he grappled his hooks once again onto the buildings. Hooking left and right, he stared down at your running figure a little ways past him, he glanced at the scene ahead, making a plan that has him a few steps ahead of you.

He assumed that the large ship docked at the rivers were yours, he constructed a plan is his head, which seem to have a hundred percent possibility to work, until he saw his squad all tied up into a circle.

He unhooked himself from a building and landed down onto the docks, where fishers and merchants came to wander, selling their stuff, a few gasps and loud shrieks where made, due to the unexpected landing.

“Hey, Ackerman.” You grinned, standing right In front of his crew, where they decorated you their glares and filled your ears with muffled noises. “Cut the crap thief. You and your crew better surrender to us, and maybe we’ll go easy on you.” Levi spat out, you laughed softly. “I have a name you know, let’s be bygones, eh?” Levi rolled his eyes and kept his guard up, holding his swords defensively. “The name’s Reader, I don’t want to have to keep calling you Ackerman.”

Levi kissed his teeth once again and scoffed. “Bygones my ass. You’ve been stealing in wall Sina for years, don’t you got better shit to do?” He shot back, you clicked your tongue and walked towards Levi, in return he put his blades up higher and started standing his ground

“Well, wall Sina’s got a bunch richo’s and I can’t really turn down such a under-guarded part of the district.” You explained, making weird hand gestures with a dagger in your hand, “Eat the rich, right?” You gave him a smile.

You slipped away from Levi’s gaze once again, he spun around in a circle looking for your figure, he felt something slide on his back, he felt your breath on his neck as he froze, almost losing his grip on his blades.

“Go fuck yourself.” Levi let out an insult in a breathy tone. As you quickly unclipped his cloak, you smiled devilishly and pulled back, as his cloak fell to the ground.

“Wow, Levi Ackerman of the scouts, I didn’t think you were this smoking hot honestly.” You checked out Levi’s figure as he groaned and slammed his sword onto you once again, you quickly defended with your dagger, leaning back onto a wooden pillar as you effortlessly pushed your strength onto his twin swords.

“Don’t need to be so aggressive, we’re having a conversation, Levi.” You batted your eyelashes innocently, he finally had enough and huffed. He threw his sword right at his squad, releasing the blade from the hold of the sword and replacing it.

The blade flew and cut the rope that held his squad down, Eld stood up and yelled out, “Help the captain!” Petra and Oruo yelled in agreement as they both flew past Gunther and Eld in hopes to corner Reader and her crew.

You sighed softly and shook and dropping your head, you raised it again for a moment, a giddy smile painted on your face. “Ah, come on, Levi! Ganging up on a helpless woman like me?” You teased as you acted more innocently, irritating Levi more and more by the second.

Levi clicked his tongue and stayed quiet as he let his squad corner you. You pouted, and placed your dagger back in its scabbard as you leaned back onto the wooden pillar and glanced around at the members who were in a defensive stance.

“Ahh, what can I do? I guess it can’t be helped then,” you complained, you sent a subtle signal to a crew-mate who was watching over the whole dispute between the scouts and the captain of the thieves. “Shut up and accept your arrest, thief.” Your ears perked up at the honey coloured female advancing towards you. “For fuck’s sake, I’m not a thief, stop calling me one, lass.” You pointed at her with your pointer and middle finger. 

“I’m a pirate, ever heard of em?” You sarcastically asked, making eye contact with a few of the squad embers as they looked at you with confused expressions. “a pi-what?” Oruo asked, dropping his guard out of confusion, looking around to see if anyone else was as confused as he was. 

Levi angrily pushed his way through his squad members, “Who gives a damn?! Arrest the thief, idiots!” He pointed his blade directly at you as you stepped back as Levi’s squad started to advance towards you, step by step. You scowled, looking over to your crew-mate who understood your expression and brought down a rope, for you to hang on and get on the ship with.

You grinned as you saw the rope come from behind Levi, you ran towards him, in which resulted in defending himself, your rough hands barely grabbed the rope, you glanced at Levi, daring to be more mischievous and placing a chaste kiss on his cheek, in which he spun around quickly, wiping away the slimy substance from his cheekbones.

“I believe that we’ve had a little too much fun, and now are behind schedule, I do appreciate playing around with you and your squad, Mr. Levi.” You landed on the edge of your ship as you started to depart, Levi knew better than to follow you into your own territory, so he stayed on the docks, scowling at you and your ship as you bowed, and gave him a teasing wave. “Maybe, take me on a date before bringing me back as a prize, eh, Levi?” You called out as you watched the Levi squad sigh out of exhaustion and disappointment. 

Levi stayed scowling at your ship as it departed, he the wind start to dry the left over saliva from your poorly-done cheek kiss, he reach his hand up, slightly wiping it away, “Tch, I’ll definitely make you pay for dirtying me and my cloak next time.” He grumbled out, feeling a ghost of a smile on his face. “Just you wait, Captain Reader.” Levi walked away from the docks as the rest of his squad followed, not wanting to return to wall Rose to report of their failure to capture the thieves of wall SIna.

#aot veterans #snk x reader #aot x y/n #snk levi #captain levi #levi attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin levi #aot #aot final season #aot s4 #aot headcanons #aot imagines #ackerman clan #levi ackerman #snk masterlist #snk headcanons #snk fanfiction #snk anime #snk #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #levi x reader #reader x levi #ackerman levi #sweet.Levi #sweet.aot

[zrtranscripts]

Season 9, Mission 4: Out of the Past

Heist

~

[birds twitter]

AMELIA SPENS: Okay team, let's go over this one more time. General Bakari has sent Abel a distress call from a remote Tunisian base, Red Scorpion, which is probably home to red fungus and definitely home to one Ernest Van Ark.

PETER LYNNE: Oh, despite the fact that you, you know, um, what was it? Oh yes, blew him up with a rocket launcher, Five! That's... [laughs] It's typical! My luck. We get Janine back safe, and oh, who pops up but the devil himself?

AMELIA SPENS: Bakari wants a team to sneak something out of Red Scorpion. Our hope is that it's a red fungus countermeasure. To get there, our team needs to infiltrate New Agadir, a city in the middle of the desert, while posing as Death's Hand, a mercenary group whose greatest hits include assassinating a blue chip CEO using a neurotoxin-tipped knitting needle and overthrowing at least three heads of state.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: This is all so exciting! Proper Mission Impossible stuff!

AMELIA SPENS: Peter, remind me why you brought the new person along. It's Frances, isn't it? From the Hebrides?

FRANCES DEMPSEY: I wanted to try a run. Janine said I could come because it's a low-danger assignment, and because I promised to stop asking to be on the Tunisia team if she let me. I overheard Sam talking about the mission.

AMELIA SPENS: Marvellous. Janine should add “make Sam keep a secret” to her bucket list. [sighs] At least you're not pestering me to let you go. I've already had to veto Jody's involvement. I need her here working with me to train runners on McShell tower protocol.

PETER LYNNE: [laughs] I bet she was thrilled about that.

AMELIA SPENS: Anyway, our problem is getting a team to Tunisia. The information in Bakari's transmission enabled us to contact the Maghreb Protectorate, a government which operates in what used to be parts of Tunisia, Libya, and Algeria.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Another government, that's incredible!

AMELIA SPENS: Yes, well, they're no use to us yet. They have no jurisdiction over New Agadir, and besides, our governments do not yet trust each other enough for them to provide assistance. Our team can't risk crossing Europe - too many unknowns - and our few ships are all either exploring or acting as repeater stations for overseas agents - too far out to be useful.

All we have left are small coastal merchants. I've found one scow captain willing to take people to Tunisia, but he's cautious. He wants the latest nautical charts. Pre-apocalypse, obviously. Not a lot of hydrographic surveys since Z-Day. You're approaching the London home of Horatio Brewer, famous British investor. Should have what we want.

PETER LYNNE: Are we sure about that, Amelia?

AMELIA SPENS: Fairly. Mr. Brewer was a keen yachtsman. Old Ministry intel says he planned to escape Z-Day by sailing to a second home on the Tunisian coast. Had all the prep work done, then his neighborhood turned gray. We think zoms got him, but he was keeping his preparation safe in a basement vault.

PETER LYNNE: Great. So basically, we're looting a dead man's travel plans. Lovely. Um, see that street across the park, Five? That'll be his, so better hurry while it's still light out. Come on, everybody. Run!

~

[birds twitter]

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Wow, this is a classy street. Look at the mansions. That one's got ivory cherubs carved over the gates.

PETER LYNNE: Neighborhood's in pretty awful condition, though. You've got overgrown gardens, smashed windows. No sign of V-types though, thank God. Dearg made me a prototype one-man burn cube, Five, sewn right into my chest. Anti-P-type measure. Got the trigger, but not massively eager to try it.

AMELIA SPENS: Maybe not, but it's the only reason I'm letting you near Tunisia.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: So Amelia, who exactly are these Death’s Hands people? Will they be tough to impersonate?

PETER LYNNE: Frances...

AMELIA SPENS: Oh, they're a nasty bunch. Former special ops, freelance since Z-Day. Bakari says they've been traveling the world as hired guns. Their rep gets them a lot of private security gigs. He's given us contact details for the real team, so we can lure them out of our operation’s way.

PETER LYNNE: Frankly, I don't think we should be trusting Bakari. This whole thing is probably a trap, which is why, Frances, Janine said that you can't – [zombies moan] Oh, God damn it!

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Uh, isn't that the place we want? Big Georgian house covered in ivy?

PETER LYNNE: Well, Amelia, there's a horde of zoms milling outside Brewer's house, so we can't make it to the entrance.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Well, we could gain entry by the house next door. Look at the big white mansion. Its roof's half collapsed, sloping into the road. We could clamber across it, jump to Brewer's roof, and get in through his attic window.

AMELIA SPENS: You know Peter, I'm warming to the new blood. Quickly then, off you go. I've got the scow captain waiting on tenterhooks. I need this deal closed ASAP. Run!

~

PETER LYNNE: Amelia, we um, we got in through the attic window, followed a ladder leading deeper into the house. Now we've found a sort of private antique collection? So we're in a carpeted hall full of artifacts in glass cases.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: They've got plaques. That's a Roman bust, Celtic coins, an Egyptian amulet. That's a Carthaginian pot from Tunisia. Shouldn't these be in a museum?

AMELIA SPENS: Ah, well, Mr. Brewer was a rather avid black market trader, made a fortune trafficking plundered historical artifacts. Actually, it might make a good impression if our little expedition returns some stolen goods. Grab the Carthaginian pot, Peter.

PETER LYNNE: Oh, burglary with Amelia, just like old times. So let's see. It's a classic. We've got the pot on the pedestal, so if I just lift its case - [alarm blares] Ah. I honestly didn't think the alarm battery would have lasted this long. Um, Five, grab that pot, would you?

[zombies moan]

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Uh, guys, apparently there are zoms in the house too, coming up the stairs behind Five. Six big ones in dark suits.

PETER LYNNE: Oh, that'll be Brewer's former home security. Alarm's got their attention. Hello! Still on the job, eh, boys?

AMELIA SPENS: Wish I could find staff that dedicated. No need to waste rounds, blueprint says there's a master bedroom down the corridor on your left. Brewer always left a spare key in the lock for his mistress. If you can lure the zombies in, you can trap them there. Run!

~

FRANCES DEMSPEY: Keep going, Five, there's the door past the amphora vases. God, how big is this house?

AMELIA SPENS: It was originally five smaller houses that were joined together behind a Georgian facade. Brewer felt he needed the space.

[door creaks open, floor creaks]

PETER LYNNE: Amelia, we're in the bedroom. There's a – ooh, four-poster bed, lovely. Uh, photos of Brewer and his family. Nice mustache. It's very Howard Hughesian. Um, Frances, you okay?

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Zombies! I forgot how scary they are up close. Didn't have them on Dearg. I'm actually shaking.

PETER LYNNE: Oh, uh, oh yeah, of course. No no no, um, it's okay, Frances. See, so the key was in the door and um, here's what we're gonna do. We're all going to get behind the bed. This room's really big, so when the zoms come at us, we'll then be able to circle around and lock them all in.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: The house isn't in the best structural condition. There are big cracks in the walls, and that creaking probably means the floor is compromised. If any more bodies start stomping in here -

[zombies growl]

PETER LYNNE: See, there are the zoms and they're... coming straight over the bed, so run for the - ! No, no, no! [shouts]

[floor collapses, glass shatters, PETER and FRANCES cough]

AMELIA SPENS: Peter, Five? What happened?

FRANCES DEMSPEY: The floor gave way under the bed! [coughs] The zoms were too much weight. It just smashed down through the house, took the zoms with it.

[house creaks]

PETER LYNNE: This house is definitely unstable. Yep, uh, sounds like the whole place is coming down.

AMELIA SPENS: If you follow the corridor outside the bedroom, you'll find stairs. Take them down to the basement. It's a reinforced garage, should remain intact if the house collapses. Plus, it's where that vault is. Hurry up, you don't have long to grab those charts, and they're absolutely vital.

PETER LYNNE: Oh, also um, there's a horde of zombies chasing us. Come on, run!

~

[zombies moan, house creaks]

PETER LYNNE: Yep, there's the stairs, Five. Straight down, down you go.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: The chandeliers overhead are really shaking. Five, look out!

[chandelier falls, glass shatters]

PETER LYNNE: [laughs] That was close! Chandelier smashed right through the stairs. Could have done without the glass shards in my face, to be perfectly honest. Um, edge around the hole it's left in the stairs. [house creaks, zombies moan] Oh, fantastic. Amelia, we just passed the ground floor and I can hear more zombies barging into the house. So that'll be the horde from outside, attracted to all the noise.

AMELIA SPENS: Just keep following the stairs down. There are exits in the basement, but you have to reach the vault first. Run!

~

PETER LYNNE: Yep, yep, yep. Five, close the door, close the door! [door slams shut] Oh, good. Amelia, we've made it. We're in the basement garage, and the stairwell’s collapsed behind us. Ooh, this is a huge concrete car park. There's tons of fancy cars. There's Bentleys, BMWs... a Model T? All right, just, could you give me a minute, Five? I've just got to pick some chandelier out of my face and eyes.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: That's amazing. Your wounds, the way they're healing. Enhanced cell regeneration? The scientists on Dearg talked about it. [gasps] This is what Van Ark did to you!

PETER LYNNE: Yes, it is. Not really looking forward to meeting him again. Rather pull my kidneys out, honestly. But Janine is not leaving me behind this time. I just got her back and I won't lose her again.

FRANCES DEMSPEY: Dearg was his, you know. I was trapped there for ages. If you're going to a Van Ark lab, I can help. And honestly, I can't stay in Abel. It's funny, when we got security fixed at Dearg, first place I wanted to see was where Alice lived. But being there... a lot of older runners, they look at me, they see her. It's hard.

That's why I really came today. I needed to get out. And I guess I started to feel... if I was going to be her ghost, I might as well run, like she did. I don't want to be a ghost, Peter, and I don't want to go back to Dearg. I want to see the world, find out where I fit in.

AMELIA SPENS: People, you should get moving. That wasn't the only staircase leading to the basement.

PETER LYNNE: Over there, Five, look. It's built into the concrete wall, huge round metal door. That looks like a vault to me. Come on, run!

~

PETER LYNNE: Amelia, we're at the vault door. Here's the C-4. Do the honors, Five. [explosion] [coughs] Okay. Okay, right. Uh, vault is a big gray room with shelves, lots of shelves. Uh, model yachts, dusty piles of... ooh, gold. Five, Frances, look for those charts.

[paper rustles]

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Hey look, found a massive file on a shelf titled Inventory. It's an index of Brewer’s deals and trade contacts. There's a whole chapter on Tunisia.

PETER LYNNE: [laughs] Gotcha! There's tons of nautical charts on this desk under the sextant. [dragging footsteps] Uh, what was that sound? Five, could you go and check behind the shelf of canned food? [zombie groans] Oh, good. Hello! Amelia, we've found Brewer. Looks like he locked himself in here after he'd been bitten, entombed with his wealth like a rubbish pharaoh.

[laughs] Oh good, we've also got a zombie wife and two zombie children in the shadows. Welcome, everyone. He's taken his whole family down with him. [more zombies growl] And that is going to be the rest of the zombies in the garage. So Five, Frances, we're gonna move towards the door. Need an exit now, Amelia.

AMELIA SPENS: There's a ramp on the west end of the car park, leads up to the surface. The shutters open from inside. Hurry, get the charts to safety, run!

~

PETER LYNNE: Okay Five, Frances, I think we've lost the zoms. Street looks clear behind us.

AMELIA SPENS: Well, I'd call that a success. Five even kept the Carthaginian pot. Now we've got the charts, I can have people heading to Tunisia in days.

PETER LYNNE: Janine's finalized the team. It's her, me, Five, Sam, Maxine, and uh, computer expert. Look, I-I am sorry Frances, uh, but honestly, you are safer here. We're going a long way from home, and trust me, Van Ark isn't to be taken lightly.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Wait a second, look at this. The folder I took, it's full of photos, Brewer logging artifacts he traded. Look at this Roman mosaic from Tunisia, the symbol in the corner.

PETER LYNNE: That is the endless circle from Mor Island.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: That's not all. Brewer's notes say he sold the mosaic to a military base code-named Red Scorpion in Tunisia before Z-Day. He says the commander of the Red Scorpion base scared him, told him not to record any names. Whatever that place is, it's definitely connected to the fungus, and they've known about it since way before we have.

~

#zombies run #zrs9 #s9m4 #zr transcript #zrs9 spoilers

[strrawberrymoon]

name  /  alias : leigh  gender  /  pronouns : female + she/her where  ya  from  ? : europe 👀 the  current  time :  18:53 height :  164 cm, i think that’s 5′4 job  or  major :  double major in sociology and media communications, still grinding pet  (  s  ) :  two dogs! one is a 7 year old maltese and the other a 3 year old cane corso favorite  thing  (  s  )  about  yourself :  im a great listener and i give great advice, i’m straighforward which some people don’t like but oh well, i’m pretty adaptable. i got some nice titties any  special  talents  ? :  i can roll my tounge in any direction + crack a lot of knuckles ajkdshaj

why  you  joined  hqclouds :  i’ve been itchng to write more lately, so when love told me about their group i thought i’d give it a shot !!

meaning  behind  url :  strawberry moon was just a recent occurance irl which was really cool + i associate marinette with strawberries for some reason, and i’m a big fan of the lady moon

last  thing  you  googled :  i’m having some issues with my michrophone and zoom so i googled how to fix it, but no dice

birthday  /  zodiac :  leo ! my birthday is august 11th in  your  opinion  ,  does  your  sign  suit  you  ? : yes and no. leo’s are very misunderstood imo, but each sign has the “more popular” or well known traits and then there’s the flipside of the coin—which i think suits me more myers  -  briggs :  ISFP / INFP moral  alignment :  chaotic idiot hogwarts  house : gryffindor

three  fictional  character  (  s  )  you  see  yourself  in  +  why :  i honestly see myself in katara from atla, the whole smothering mothering routine. it’s becoming a regular thing for my friends to say “thanks, mom” or “ok, mom” so i guess i’m the mom friend. also fred weasly... he’s a twin.. i’m a twin... that’s all i need. and lastly, and very leastly, neil josten from all for the game series. most of you probably don’t know it, but he’s a demisexual chaotic idiot who says “i’m fine” way too much for someone who is most definitely not fine.

i  started  roleplaying : probably when i was around 16-17 was my first official roleplay experience. it was on facebook and kind of a nightmare types  of  rps  i  enjoy :  i like college stuff and small town rps, but i also love plot heavy rps that push you into developing your muse. really anything that isn’t too restricting favorite  fcs  to  use :  i don’t have go-to faceclaims. i tend to make a character around a FC and then use them until i lose muse or just feel like they need to rest. switch it up a lot, but some faces that i’ve really enjoyed playing for a longer amount of time are steven kelly, cindy mello and ellen v. lora fandom  (  s  )  you’d  like  to  write  in : i want to write in all of the fandoms i know nothing about and look like a dumbass. also harry potter, the hunger games, avatar the last airbender, gossip girl, etc etc fandom  (  s  )  you  aren’t  in  but  are  curious  about :  marvel somewhat, any video games are very fascinating to me even though i’m not a gamer + know nothing about them, any distopian kind of fandom re: hunger games

share  a  funny  roleplay  horror  story :  recently an admin of a twitter rp tried to use my male muse for their weird ship narrative. they tried to make him look like an asshole (& i do play assholes but this one wasn’t one) + used another male muse to make it seem as if these two boys were fighting over the person’s girl, even though she actually had a ship all lined up. they were also running the gossip twitter, so they made up a bunch of stuff about our muses without our consent and consequently i told them to fuck off, and both of us left the group. then she had no more “groupies” so she cuffed and the group closed two days later. it was petty hilarious.

fondest  roleplay  memory :  once in an OC group, i wasn’t “technically” doing a ship with a friend, even though the characters had feelings for each other. but for some reason the status of their relationship was a hot topic group wide, meaning everybody had their nose in it and wanting to know what’s up, so they publically kept doing things to make people think they’re together while denying it in the same breath. it was really fun to let it play out like that.

favorite  canon  muse  (  s  )  to  play : roy mustang from fullmetal alchemist, katara from atla, and my baby marinette favorite  original  muse  (  s  )  to  play : the last original character i played and fell in love with was named alex. im obsessed with him. still doing 1 x 1 with his girlfriend. they’re having a baby, it’s all very emo and domestic. maybe i make him relapse for funsies. canon  ships  you  can’t  help  but  love :  lupin x tonks from harry potter, korra x asami from legend of korra, danerys x daario naharis from game of thrones, katniss x peeta from the hunger games, etc... trope  (  s  )  you  tend  to  be  guilty  of : i use the rich kid douchebag stereotype a lot. i also make a lot of my characters addicted to something to make them struggle with that.

i  prefer  .  .  . angst  ,  smut  ,  or  fluff :  bro... i am a sucker for ansgt and smut. i do fluff on special ocassions >:) long  or  short  replies :  i prefer when they start out shorter, but medium is my fave pre  plotting  or  chemistry : chemistry all the way. plotting can be really fun but it’s a miss more often than a hit for me. plotting can be good for pre-established relationships but that’s about it sentence  starters  or  headcanon  memes : sentence starters single  muse  or  multimuse  blogs :  i’ve never done a multimuse blog, and i’ve actually been super against them in the past, but i’m starting to change my mind hehe gif  icons  ,  medium  gifs  ,  or  static  icons : static (or none honestly)

grab  the  book  nearest  to  you  and  pull  a  quote  from  it :  ❝ You were children. was there no one to protect you? ❞ — ❝ Was there no one to protect you? ❞

what’s  a  quote  or  song  lyric  that  speaks  to  your  soul  ? :  ❝ I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me too ❞ 

top  current  celebrity  crushes :  zendaya, margot robbie always last  movie  you  watched :  365 days (2020) did  you  like  it  ? :  i hated it, what a waste of a perfectly good 2 hours  favorite  movie  (  s  )    of  all  time : harry potter franchise makes me nostalgic, perks of being a wallflower, my sister’s keeper favorite  tv  show  (  s  )  of  all  time : for some reason i’m obsessed with grey’s anatomy but i hate it favorite  tv  show  that  hasn’t  ended : well fricking grey’s anatomy favorite  series  of  books  /  novels  /  comics : the hunger games, harry potter sports  team  (  s  )  you  rep : my friend is into sports i rep her ksdsdj favorite  video  game  (  s  ) : the sims. i like playing animal crossing vicariously through switch owners favorite  youtube  channels : don’t usually keep up with yt channels but i just binged some stuff from psychology in seattle hobbies :  procrastinating

what  are  the  three  non  essential  things  you’d  bring  to  a  deserted  island  ? : sunglasses, hairtie, hand cream

put  your  music  on  shuffle.  what  six  songs  pop  up  ? : 

say goodbye by skillet, 

off the grid by alina baraz & khalid, 

bury a friend by billie eilish, 

break up with your girlfriend by ariana grande

get back by nine lashes

marry you by bruno mars (man)

personal  aesthetic : growing out my hair only to always wear it in a bun dream  vacation  ? : i just wanna go to the seaside with my friends dream  job  ? :  i literally can’t stand capitalism. wanna move to italy and collect berries and draw titties all day dream  car  ? :  something that drives itself if  i  could  live  anywhere  ,  it’d  be : somewhere in canada near the woods favorite  musical : mama mia? counts favorite  food  (  s  ) :  bananaaaaas, ice cream, cereal. these are all foods ok coffee  order : i don’t drink coffee unwatched  stuff  in  your  netflix  /  hulu  /  etc :  13 reasons why (i’m too bored), the flash, outer banks, elite, the half of it, intersteller, locke & key aaand some stuff that’s not mine but someone else using my account

what’s  a  subject  you  know  too  much  about  +  never  get  tired  of  talking  about  ? : idk anything about anything askldhl

#CLOUD:OOC #i am doing this now bc im avoiding studying #but it was fun hehehe #i still need to figure out a tagging system + write up an intro #which let us not kid ourseleves i'll probably end up doing by tonight #╰ ♡ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐨𝐟𝐟 ↷ ooc.

[witharsenicsauce]

Chosen Stories From the War #16: Boat Ride to Vorontsovo

“Mail time!”

The bar was relatively empty, only a few other soldiers having set up in there for the afternoon. Princess and Tisiphone were arguing about something again, but this time Tiwaz was there as well to remind them to please keep the conversation at an indoor level. Mithridates had set up with his laptop in the corner and was playing (and losing) a game of chess against the computer. 

Kon-Mai and Gur-Rai had shoved aside the remains of their breakfast (which was just green tea for Kon-Mai and a piece of toast with spicy mustard for Gur-Rai) and were now sitting across from each other with a deck of Uno cards. Neither of them knew how to play, however, so they had pretty much been making up a totally new game that was somewhat of a combination between Poker, Go Fish and BS.

At the sound of the yell, everyone looked up to attention as Bradford strolled into the bar, waving a stack of envelopes. The other soldiers got to their feet and rushed over, hands out like eager little pigeons awaiting breadcrumbs. Kon-Mai returned her attention to the cards in her hand, confident that there would be no mail for her. Gur-Rai, however, stood up and waved the Central Officer over.

“Central!” He called. “Anything for little ol’ me?”

“Actually.” Bradford walked over to them, thumbing through the huge pile before pulling out an envelope and handing it to Gur-Rai. “Here you go. And for your sister…” He pulled out another one and plopped it in front of Kon-Mai, who picked it up and stared at it in confusion. “That’s all.” Bradford began to walk off, but Kon-Mai jumped to her feet. 

“Central, what is this?” Kon-Mai demanded. “We have no family to contact us. We should not be getting mail.”

“That’s your paycheck.” Bradford said casually.

“...I beg your pardon?”

“Your paycheck.” Bradford looked up at her and chuckled. “...You didn’t think you were working here for free, did you?”

Kon-Mai blinked, completely taken aback. “...What...what do I do with this?”

“Have you never gotten a paycheck?”

“The Elders weren’t big on fair wages.” Gur-Rai said as he tore open his envelope and looked over his pay stub. “Oooh. Not bad, Central.”

“What use do we have for money?” Kon-Mai puzzled.

“Well...it depends.” Bradford shrugged. “Some of the refugee camps have convenience stores that still take Old World cash.”

Kon-Mai rolled her eyes. “I have little need for such small trinkets.”

Bradford scowled. “Well maybe the Black Market is more up your alley.”

“The what?” Gur-Rai lit up like a Christmas tree upon hearing those words.

“Yeah, ask the Commander about it. I gotta hand out the rest of these.” He stopped as Dhar-Mon entered the bar, and dug out another paper. “Hieromonk.”

“Hm?” Dhar-Mon took the paper, his reaction quite similar to Kon-Mai’s. “What is this?”

“That is your paycheck, Brother~” Gur-Rai chuckled.

“Central, I cannot accept this!” Kon-Mai shook her head. “This is valuable funding that XCOM needs to acquire weaponry!”

“You’re a soldier like any other. You get a paycheck.” Bradford said. “Look, if you don’t want it, just take the cash and give it to another soldier. Give it to Tygan. Or the Commander. Or me, hell knows I could use a raise. It’s your money.” He griped like an old man as he walked away, leaving Kon-Mai standing there, dumbfounded.

“You forget, Sister, XCOM soldiers aren’t mindless drones.” Gur-Rai folded his check. “They probably need more of a reason to stay than just loyalty to a cause.”

“But why give us this?” Dhar-Mon mused. “We would never leave. We have no place else to go.”

“Perhaps it’s the principal of the matter.” Gur-Rai stood up. “In any case, I definitely want to know more about this…’Black Market.’ that Central mentioned~”

.

.

They stopped by the “clerk”, which was just a safe in the armory connected to a computer that still ran Windows 7. Kon-Mai stuck her check into the little slot a the bottom and stared at the screen as that god-forsaken loading symbol sat there, taunting them, for a good two minutes until another screen finally popped up.

“Please select your currency.” The computer said aloud.

Kon-Mai looked back at her brothers for help. “What currency is even accepted at the markets?”

“I guess it depends on what country it’s in.” Gur-Rai leaned over her shoulder and read through the options. “Oh, go for American.”

“Why?”

“Because America is always the country you see in movies.” He shrugged.

“I do not believe America exists any more.” Dhar-Mon said.

“Still, most people will recognize it! So their currency has to be valuable!”

Kon-Mai grimaced. “I think not.” She looked around for a moment, finally clicking on Japanese Yen.

“Oh, fine then. Don’t listen to me.”

“Shut up.” She smirked as she typed in the amount she wanted to withdraw. The machine whirred for a moment, shuddering worryingly, and then opened up a slot and spat out a wad of bills and a few coins. Kon-Mai took them, counted them meticulously, and then tucked them into her belt.

“Okay, my turn.” Gur-Rai pushed though as Kon-Mai turned to the door, where Dhar-Mon was still standing, reading over his check.

“Are you alright, Brother?”

He looked up at her, worry apparent on his face. “I simply do not feel right taking money from XCOM. After the grievous atrocities I committed…”

“Grievous atrocities?” A voice behind him giggled.

Dhar-Mon jumped, his palms glowing with psionic power, but behind him only stood Senuna.

“Commander!” He dropped to one knee, as though he were once again worshiping the Elders. Senuna at first seemed to smile at this, before she shook her head and patted his shoulder.

“No no no, up up.” She coaxed him gently. “No need for that, Dhar-Mon. I actually was just looking for you three!”

“Hello Commander!” Gur-Rai called as he dropped a handful of pennies onto the floor.

Senuna waved at him. “So. Shen and I were about to take a trip to the Black Market-”

Kon-Mai raised a brow. “We had heard about this ‘Black Market’ earlier. From Bradford.”

“‘Course you did!” Senuna winked. “So I thought, I COULD use my regular security detail, BUT, I also have a bunch of big, scary Chosen who I’m sure would love some time out! Whatddya say?”

“I say hell yes!” Gur-Rai called as he stuffed the dollar bills into his pocket.

“Do we need any specific currency?” Kon-Mai asked.

“Oh, no, the Black Market takes anything. Some traders will bitch about certain exchange rates but overall, if it’s money, they’ll take it!”

“Wonderful.” Kon-Mai looked to her eldest brother. “Dhar-Mon? What do you think?”

He hesitated for a moment. “If you and Gur-Rai both think it a good idea…”

“Brother, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” Gur-Rai said.

“That is true but…” He didn’t say it, but Kon-Mai could see he did not want to leave the comfort of their little trio.

“So it’s settled then!” Senuna giggled and clapped. “Well I have to get ready, so meet me in the garage in...about 2 hours!”

Kon-Mai stared at Senuna in disbelief as she sauntered away, and Gur-Rai chuckled.

“How that woman became Commander will always be one of the world’s greatest mysteries.” He said.

.

.

The Avenger had landed near the ocean, dropping from it’s main deck a life vessel that could only hold a few people at most. Crammed inside this tiny boat were all three of the Chosen, Lily Shen, and Senuna herself who, under the black cloak that covered her, wore one of her best summer dresses with a garish flower print, thus requiring the cloak. In fact, they had all had to conceal themselves, and seemed to have blended in nearly perfectly with the night. The gentle hum of the boat was the only noise as they splish-splashed through the water towards the distant lights.

The buildings on the shore were dark and quiet, with nary a sign of life as they approached. Gur-Rai realized he was holding his breath, and forced himself to release it. His sister pushed herself further to the front, in front of her brothers as though to protect them.

As they got closer and closer to shore, they saw the eyes. The moving shadows of people watching them from the windows and on the corners, just barely there enough to see, but not identifiable. In fact Gur-Rai was beginning to question if they really were there at all. Perhaps he was imagining the little moving shapes…

Until, as they passed the docks, a group of men came seemingly from nowhere, guns trained on them. They were yelling something in Russian, and if Gur-Rai closed his eyes and listened, he could just barely make out the words “Stop! State your name! Who are you with?!”

“Ya Komandir XCOM.” Senuna said, in fluent Russian. “Menya zovut Senuna. Sprosite Ledi Guan-Yin, ona khorosho menya znayet.”

The men spoke among themselves for a minute, and one of them walked off into a nearby building. The silence was thicker than tar, until one man jabbed his rifle into Gur-Rai’s shoulder, yelling something else that he could only barely understand from snippets of long forgotten memory. “Why is ADVENT here?!”

He heard Kon-Mai hiss at that-she must have understood ‘ADVENT’ at least- and Senuna smiled and spoke to them again: “Ikh bol'she net s ADVENT. Teper' oni svobodnyye lyudi.”

“Razve oni ne Izbrannyye?” The man whacked Gur-Rai in the head with the mouth of his pistol.

“Sprosite Ledi Guan-Yin. Ona khotela by uslyshat', chto ty brosayesh' mne vyzov.” Senuna spat with fire in her voice.

The previous man came back and said something, to which the man with the gun spat into the boat and growled. Gur-Rai heard him say “You may go.”

Senuna bowed, and the boat prattled forward, the tall concrete buildings on either side of the canal slowly fencing them in, making them all claustrophobic.  Gur-Rai felt Dhar-Mon reach out, and he took his hand, smiling back at him to comfort him.

The buildings began to thin out, and Kon-Mai leaned forward. “Why are we not stopping?”

“We’re not there yet.” Senuna whispered. “Leskino is just the gateway.”

“So where are we going?”

Senuna merely smiled at her. “You’ll know when you see it~”

The canal widened into a large, open bay, and once again the little boat was tossed against the waves of the dark waters. Dhar-Mon was squeezing Gur-Rai’s hand, and even Kon-Mai had shrunk back, clinging to her brothers. When Gur-Rai peered over the boat into the dark waters, he swore he felt something staring back at him from the depths, with teeth as sharp as his and twice the size, just waiting for one of them to take a tumble overboard…

He grabbed his sister around her shoulders and pulled her in close.

The boat bobbed and floated toward where the bay began to narrow once again, and Senuna pointed forward. “That way is where we’re going.”

Gur-Rai pried his eyes away from the dark, churning water, and gazed forward at the lights of the town cutting through the darkness. He saw other boats, some large, others smaller than their own, bobbing along the docks. Even from out here he could hear talking and shouting, and saw the dark figures of sailors hauling their cargo to shore.

“Vorontsovo.” Senuna said excitedly. “The Black Market.”

“Oh.” Gur-Rai smiled despite his trembling insides. “Sounds magnificent.”

“It’s a hive of scum and villainy. You’ll love it.” Shen winked.

As the boat got closer, he could see even more of the colorful silhouettes that surrounded them. The boats parked there were massive, towering ships of antiquity, some made of steel and concrete, others only of wood. They parked the little dinghy in between two such ships, and Senuna leapt out and dragged it to shore. She was surprisingly strong.

Shen got out next, and Gur-Rai joined her, helping his sister from the boat first, then his brother. Now that they were on land, they conspicuously towered over everyone at the docks, and yet no one seemed to pay them any mind, so lost they were in the hustle to unload cargo.

Senuna put her hood down and unbuttoned her cloak, letting it hang loosely around her shoulders and revealing her obnoxious dress. “We made it, everyone!” She waved them over. “This way! And don’t fall behind, it’s easy to get lost in this place~”

They weaved their way into the crowd, and as they did, the colors and sounds increased in intensity. They pushed their way past the sailors, some of whom already had drinks in hand, and the small stands and vendors sitting on blankets grew more and more frequent, lining the streets. Many of them called out to the group, beckoning them over to sample their wares. Occasionally one would slip a glance at the Chosen under their hoods, and the calling would promptly stop. 

Gur-Rai’s sharp eye caught the sight of several women, and a few men, wearing extremely flashy, garish outfits, even for this place. A he followed one with is eyes, a blonde girl with a long red ball gown, she glanced at Kon-Mai and whistled to her, waving and giggling. Gur-Rai huffed as Kon-Mai looked between them in confusion.

“What?” Kon-Mai looked around. “What is going on?”

“Don’t worry about her, Sister.” He chuckled. “She’s just a...lady of the night.”

“Of the night? Like me?” She smiled. “They are stealth warriors?”

“Um...no.” He chuckled. “They’re not.”

“But you said-”

“They’re prostitutes.” Shen called back to them, and Gur-Rai watched as Kon-Mai’s blue skin turned purple with realization and embarrassment.

The street grew more packed as they walked, and Gur-Rai looked up at the buildings towering above them. The light of the moon illuminated the tops of the rickety buildings, and he saw that the old concrete structures were also full of people, leaning out the windows and watching those who shopped below.

“See that building up there?” Shen pointed towards the end of the road, where a large cliff face blocked off the market. Within the stone, there seemed to be carved an old temple, great and looming, with dark windows spreading across it’s walls.

“Spooky.”

“Yep. That’s where we’re going.” She sounded cheery. “I can’t wait for you guys to meet...well, you’ll see.”

Gur-Rai looked up at the temple again, and swore he saw a figure standing there. Watching them.

.

.

Senuna removed her cloak and draped it over one arm, despite the temperature continuing to drop as the night went on. Gur-Rai and Dhar-Mon were huddling together for warmth, the big man providing a significant amount of it, and even Kon-Mai (who was naturally cold) was beginning to shiver.

Shen ran up ahead of them, towards two armed guards who stood at the end of the road. She spoke to them, not in Russian this time, but Chinese. They nodded to her, stepping aside and bowing to her, as she gestured for the others to follow her through the now open gates. “This way!”

“How’d you do that?” Gur-Rai asked, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.

“You’ll see in a bit.” She smiled as they made their way down the stone pathway. 

Instead of a garden of plants, the front yard of this shrine was populated with large spires of colorful rocks, placed within indentations in the sandy ground. Strange patterns had been carved into the sand, and Kon-Mai’s eyes widened with interest. “What a lovely arrangement.” She mused softly.

“Yeah…” Shen chuckled. “Nothing grows here, so….”

“Guan-Yin had to improvise.” Senuna chuckled, and pushed open the large metal door of the building.

It was dark inside, illuminated only by dim crystals of various colors, drilled into spots all over the walls. The main hall was empty, the ceiling tall and looming and the walls made of ebony stone so cold and dark, it made it so their steps echoed off the stone walls. However, from a staircase to their right, another set of footsteps could be heard.

They turned, and Gur-Rai saw a woman who looked so much like Shen, he almost called her that.

She descended the stairs in a purple dress that looked much too plain for someone who lived in this building, and her hair was tied in a bun so messy, most of her hair was actually falling out around her shoulders.

“An-Yi.” The older woman’s stony, wrinkled face morphed into a smile, and she picked up her skirt and ran down the stairs, where Shen met her in a tight hug.

“Wǒ xiǎngniàn nǐ.” Shen pulled away and turned to her compatriots. “Guys, this is-”

“Lady Guan-Yin Shen. Owner and proprietor of the Hēi Shìchǎng, Mayor of Vorontsovo, and proud mother of An-Yi Shen.” The woman said, her back straight and her eyes piercing as she scanned the three of them. Her gaze lingered on the three Chosen for an uncomfortable minute, and then she turned to Senuna. “Now, Sīlìng, what have you brought into my city?”

“Mom, these are our...new recruits~” Shen giggled. “The, formerly, Elders’ Chosen.”

Lady Guan-Yin sighed, closing her eyes in familiar resignation.

“I told you I could do it~” Senuna was giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Of course you did, but do you blame me for doubting you?”

“Of course I do. You should know better by now!” 

“Nǐ yītuánzāo.” Guan-Yin snapped at her.

“Mom.” Shen said. “Think we can head upstairs? We’ve been walking a long time and my feet hurt.”

“Of course An-Yi. Where are my manners!” Guan-Yin bowed to the Chosen. “Please follow me. We shall conduct business in the drawing room.”

“Business?” Dhar-Mon asked.

“Of course.” Guan-Yin smiled. “That is why you’re here, is it not?”

.

.

The drawing room was significantly more comfortable, with velvet pillows and curtains and colorful wallpaper coating the walls. There was a hookah on the table that Kon-Mai had smacked Gur-Rai for trying to take a hit of, and in the corner was a small stove that was boiling mint tea. The room seemed to be a mix of decor from all over the world, and all of it looked rare and expensive. Dhar-Mon was enthralled with some of the tapestries on the walls, depicting stylized scenes of ancient warriors, while Kon-Mai had settled into her lotus pose on one of the pillows, looking completely in her element.

Guan-Yin took the kettle off the stove and poured six cups of tea, which smelled strongly of mint. She handed the first one to Shen with a loving look, then passed the rest around to her other guests.

“You have impeccable taste, Lady Guan-Yin.” Dhar-Mon said as he took his cup. “Many of this art has not been seen in...quite some time.”

“I am very resourceful.” She replied, narrowing her eyes at him. “ADVENT can’t destroy everything, and what they miss, I keep.”

“It is certainly a collection to be proud of.” Kon-Mai said. “You control this market, then? All of it?”

“Of course I do!” Guan-Yin said with a smile that seemed somewhat forced. “I built this place from the ground up, you know. It started as just me and my little shrine, and became something truly grand.”

“Incredible.” Gur-Rai nodded. “All this under the nose of ADVENT?”

“Absolutely. ADVENT is very stupid.” Guan-Yin sat down in a large, ornate chair and crossed her legs, tucking her purple skirt around her knees.

Dhar-Mon looked taken aback at her forwardness. “...I...suppose…”

“Yes. They are clueless. They don’t know us humans, how we think, how we feel. They barely have a hold over the territory they do control. It takes very little effort to go around them, and would take even less to force them out.” She sat back and looked to Senuna. “You wanted to make a deal, yes?”

“Yes.” Senuna scooted closer. “Shen told me you came into possession of some plans for the Hellweave Armor.”

Guan-Yin looked over at her daughter. “Are you running your mouth again?”

“I can’t help it! I got excited!” Shen giggled.

Guan-Yin looked back at Senuna. “Maybe I did.”

“Mhm. Any chance we could get a jump on that?”

“Just because my daughter favors you doesn’t mean I do.” Guan-Yin leaned on her hand. “Besides I already have a buyer. The Golden Horde is interested and they have the coin to back it.”

“Guan~” Senuna chuckled. “I’m good for much more than coins. You know that~”

“Do I, Sīlìng?” Guan-Yin raised a curious brow. “Do I know that?”

“Well you husband did.” Gur-Rai piped up. “He worked for XCOM, didn’t he? This’d be a nice tribute to his memory.”

A cold silence fell over the room, and Shen hissed at him, making a slashing motion across her throat.

“My husband.” Guan-Yin said softly, her teacup shaking in her hand. “Yes. My husband. He loved XCOM. More than he loved me.”

“Oh boy.” Senuna whispered.

“And certainly more than he loved his daughter!” Guan-Yin snapped. “Do not get me STARTED on my husband, who uprooted his entire family to go chase a half-baked dream in the U.S.”

“But XCOM was a government fund-” Gur-Rai shut up as his sister dug her claws into the back of his neck.

“Did he ASK me if I wanted to relocate? No he did not! We were perfectly fine in Taiwan and all of a sudden, I have to leave behind MY entire family, An-Yi never even got to see her grandparents again before the aliens attacked!” She stood up, leaning forward with her hands on the table. “And when XCOM fell, when his little escapade proved useless, MY HUSBAND was more obsessed with protecting his damn ROBOTS, than he was his own wife and daughter!”

“Mom.” Shen whimpered. “Stop, we get it.”

“So no, Madron, I don’t give XCOM any special treatment. I had to struggle and canive and claw my way up here, all to ensure my daughter and I didn’t DIE in this wasteland MY HUSBAND left behind. I have other customers besides them, and I don’t rely on any one person to make this market as prosperous as it is. That was all my hard work. Me.” She sat back down, silence hanging over the room.

Dhar-Mon cleared his throat. “With respect, Commander, I think it would be best to leave you to conduct business with Lady Guan-Yin...alone.” He motioned for his siblings to follow him.

“Agreed.” Kon-Mai stood, pulling Gur-Rai to his feet. “Perhaps we shall sample some of the storefronts.”

“Yeah…” Shen stood slowly. “Do you mind if I go with them, Mom? I can...make sure they don’t get lost.”

“Of course, Bǎobǎo, just be careful! Tell them I sent you!” Guan-Yin called to them, reaching out and squeezing Shen’s hand as the mechanic slipped out beside the Chosen.

.

.

Kon-Mai handed the vendor a few metal coins and gave one of the small fried confections to Dhar-Mon, who sniffed it curiously and gave a confused look. Gur-Rai broke off a piece of his and held it up near Shen’s mouth. Shen ignored him.

“Come on.” He chuckled. “I don’t even need to eat this, you do.”

“I’m not that hungry.” She muttered.

“You paid for it.” He said. “Don’t wanna let it go to waste, do you?”

“Perhaps there is a scrap vendor around.” Kon-Mai mused. “You could acquire some new parts, Shen.”

“Mom keeps all the worthwhile stuff at the shrine.” Shen sighed.

Dhar-Mon took a bite of the fried dough, looking around. He pointed to a shop window and muttered something around the food in his mouth.

“Pardon, Brother?” Kon-Mai looked over. “Oh!” She gasped. “A fabric vendor!”

“You planning on making drapes?” Gur-Rai asked.

“I am planning on making myself several new articles of clothing!” She retorted.

“What, your XCOM allotted clothes aren't good enough?” He smirked. “I thought we had all we needed on the ship.”

“Well, I was considering making you some fitting pants as well, but since you are so very rude-”

“Oh beautiful and gracious sister of mine!” Gur-Rai bowed obnoxiously. “You are most generous to think of me, your humble brother, in his hour of need. And yes I desperately need pants.”

“That is better.” She smirked. “Dhar-Mon, would you like to accompany me?”

“Of course, Little Sister.”

Kon-Mai waved to Shen and Gur-Rai as she and their brother disappeared into the crowd, and Gur-Rai was left alone with Shen once again.

He turned to her. “Anything you wanna see, Lady Lily?”

“Don’t call me that.” She muttered.

He paused. “...Okay, I’m sorry about earlier. But in my defense, how was I to know your mother would throw a fit?”

Shen didn’t say anything at first, and Gur-Rai had half a mind to stop talking. Unfortunately, the other half won out, and he kept talking.

“It was stupid of me.” He followed up. “So, I apologize.”

“It’s...not your fault. You didn’t know.” She sighed. “I just wish I could bring up Dad without her throwing a tantrum about it.”

“It’s a shame.” He nodded, grabbing her arm and gently pulling her through a tough spot in the crowd. “From his ADVENT files, he seemed like a remarkable man.”

“...He was.” She said softly. “And, don’t get me wrong, Bradford and the Commander spare no details about him, they’ll tell you anything and everything they know. But…” She crossed her arms. “I just wish I remembered him as a dad. Not as Raymond Shen but...as Dad.”

“...How old were you?” Gur-Rai asked. “When he…?”

“Eleven.” She said. “I know it doesn’t seem that long ago but...I’m 33 now, and I can’t even picture his face anymore.”

Gur-Rai looked away. “Well, surely he left you something. I thought humans wrote out wills for their loved ones.”

“Not that I’ve ever seen. Honestly, I’d just love to ask my mom what he was like before all this…”

“If the previous conversation is any indicator, that is not a good idea.”

“I know, Gur-Rai. I’ve tried.” She looked up. “The most I’ve been able to garner is, their marriage was not great.”

“I can’t imagine!” Gur-Rai chuckled. “She seems so sweet and mild.”

Shen snorted in laughter. “Not Mom. She was a hardass even when Dad was alive.” She sighed. “...Taiwan wasn’t big on women being independent. I think she had other dreams besides raising me. Dreams of owning her own business…”

“Well.” Gur-Rai raised his arms. “She has that now, the greatest business on planet Earth, quite literally. And she did that with you on her hip, Lily.”

Shen smiled. “Yeah…” She sniffled. “She may have hated Dad but...she always made it clear she loved me.”

“At least you had that.” He chuckled. “Better one parent who loves you, than three who despise you.”

“Sounds like you have experience with that.”

“You think your parents argued?” Gur-Rai smirked but it was forced. “Our parents alternated between constant screaming and constant fucking. And if they weren’t screaming at each other, they were screaming at something I or one of my siblings did. Usually me.”

“God...that sounds awful.” Shen said. “And you said three? How many were there?”

“The three who ‘birthed’ us were the head honchos. They were married, all three of them, but no one else got to be in on that inner circle so it wasn’t an open marriage by any means.” He said. “The others didn’t have much to do with us besides checking in once in a while. I think Kompira made Kon-Mai’s sword but that’s all the contact those two had.” He shook his head. “No, the big three were in charge of us, for better or worse. And oh, they just set the best example~” Gur-Rai faked a gagging motion.

“Huh…” Shen chuckled. “Suddenly a LOT makes sense~”

He nudged her, laughing, and she stumbled. As he dove to catch her, his foot slipped and the two landed on the ground in a heap.

“Ow.” Shen grimaced. “Get off me, you big blue ogre.”

“My sincerest apologies, Lady Lily.” He knelt dramatically as she stood. “Please, allow me to lick your shoes~”

“Fuck off!” She cackled.

.

.

“Where did they get Tussar silk?!” Kon-Mai gasped, running her hand over the fabric. “I had thought it all lost in the raid of Bhagalpur.”

“Lost but not forgotten, it seems.” Dhar-Mon said as he, too, browsed the rolls of cloth. His hand brushed over a purple velvet dress, and he lifted it from the rack to view it further. “This is old, from long before the invasion...I can sense the history of it.”

“Let me see it.” His sister rushed over to the fabric he was viewing and he held it out for her.

“A connoisseur of historical artifacts, are you, Sister?” He raised a brow.

“Human history is so...rich and vibrant.” She took the velvet from his hands. “I can feel it as well. This dress is as old as the Black Plague of the 1400′s.” She smiled. “I would wear it myself, but I am afraid I would ruin it.”

“How would you ruin it?”

“My great height.” She growled. “No human woman was ever as tall as me, and if they were they did not wear dresses like this.”

“You could undo the stitches and tailor it.” Dhar-Mon suggested. “Make the dress your own.”

She shook her head. “No, no, I could not bear to defile a work of art such as this.” She placed it back on the rack and went back to looking at the silks. “Tell me, Brother, what clothes would you wear in a casual setting?”

He blushed slightly. “I was...hardly ever without my armor. When I was, I was being bathed by my attendants, or was in my sleeping chamber..”

She chuckled. “What of your priestly robes?”

“They are...quite formal.” He admitted. “When you say casual, I assume you ask what I will wear when socializing in the Avenger. I would rather have something...innocuous.”

She looked surprised. “Perhaps Bhandasura’s attack did more to you than the doctor assumed, because the old Dhar-Mon wouldn’t dream of such a thing.”

He looked away. “Yes...the old Dhar-Mon had much to learn.”

“Well then, my dearest brother, perhaps a woolen sweater like Gur-Rai’s? Or something a bit more practical?” She abandoned the silk and began sifting through the sturdier fabric. “How much hard labor do you expect to partake in?”

“All the soldiers require of me.”

“Hm.” She looked over the racks. “Perhaps denim then, or a blend, something that can be used for both comfort and the occasional strong-man activity.” She chuckled. “Your shirts, however, I’ll make softer.”

“When did you take interest in sewing?” Dhar-Mon asked as he watched her prattle away.

“When my armor became severely damaged and I had to repair it on my own.” She replied. “It became a relaxing activity, and I would spend hours sewing and improving my clothing.”

“The...Elders did not help you?”

She hesitated. “...Vox Kompira reforged a few of the plates. But the cloth...no, I had to do that myself. And when it’s a matter of life of death…” She smiled. “I simply became good at it.”

Dhar-Mon hesitated, still thumbing through the clothing racks. The words were on his lips but he was reluctant to speak them.

“Cotton maybe…? No, too flimsy. Oh, perhaps Muslin Soft-” She looked up at Dhar-Mon. “Is something the matter, Brother?”

He looked up, was about to say no, don’t worry, all is well, but instead he opened his mouth and blurted out- “Can you teach me to sew?”

Kon-Mai blinked, stunned, while Dhar-Mon turned purple and wished for death. 

“I...well…” He stammered. “You do not have to. Not at all. It is very dear to you, this activity, and you do not have to entertain…”

She reached out and put a hand on his arm, and when he met her gaze, she was smiling. 

“Dhar-Mon.” She said. “I would be honored to teach you to sew.”

He squirmed a bit. “I know it is not the most…” He cleared his throat and fell silent.

“The most what?” She asked.

“The most…” He was so afraid to look her in the eyes. “This is not an insult towards you, Sister, I swear, but...it is not very masculine.”

She scoffed. “Dhar-Mon, I’m surprised at you. To let something like gender perception hold you back?” She saw him begin to crumple and hugged him. “No no, I am just joking with you.”

“Will anyone think of me differently if I practice such a skill?” He asked, feeling like a child in her strong, motherly arms.

“If they do, then they will not think long before my blade severs their head from their body.” She pulled away and squeezed his shoulders. “It is a skill, Dhar-Mon, and I am happy to teach you it.”

He took her hands. “...Thank you, Kon-Mai.”

“Oh Brother, it’s what I’m here for.” She smiled. “Let us make our purchase and return to Gur-Rai, before he does something I’ll regret.”

“Is there anything else you wanted?” He questioned as she gathered the fabrics and patterns she had chosen.

Kon-Mai thought for a moment. “Perhaps some…” She shook her head. “It’s nothing useful.”

“Sister!” He put his hands on his hips. “You dare judge your interests on their practical application? Activities can be enjoyed for their own sake.”

She burst into a raspy laugh at the sight of him. “Well...I did want to peruse the shops, in case they had any...cosmetics.”

“Cosmetics…?”

She tapped her cheeks. “Make-up. I…don’t have any at the Avenger, and while it’s rare that I wear any I do miss being able to...pretty myself for special occasions.”

“But you are already pretty.”

She rolled her eyes. “Did you not just tell me to stop judging my interests based on use? I know that make-up by itself is going to do nothing to improve my appearance, but I really...appreciate the art.”

Dhar-Mon seemed to take a minute to process this, then something clicked in his head and he nodded. “If that is the case, I shall help you find what you desire.”

She smirked. “I think this has become a mutually beneficial exchange. I give you sewing lessons, and you pay for my cosmetics~”

“Yes.” He put his hand on her shoulder and the two made their way to the front.

.

.

“How long should we give the Commander?” Shen asked, pulling a piece of cotton candy off of Gur-Rai’s stack and shoving it into her mouth.

“Dunno. She’s talking to your mom, I thought you’d have more of a time frame for this.” Gur-Rai let the piece of candy sit on his black tongue for a moment before putting it in his mouth. “Finally a food that melts on contact for everyone else, too.”

“Is that what eating is like for you?” Shen whistled. “That’s sad.”

“Our parents figured since they don’t need to eat, we don’t either.”

“Your parents can suck a dick.”

“They can’t actually. No mouth.”

Shen thought for a moment. “...Do they have other holes?”

Gur-Rai blinked. “I don’t know, Lily. I didn’t ask my fuckwad abusive masters if they like to stick things up their butts.”

Shen snorted, spitting out a glob of cotton candy spittle, covering her mouth as she muttered “I am so sorry oh my god.”

“You’re fine.” He flashed a toothy grin. “Karma works fast.” He looked up, and his smile suddenly dropped.

“What’s wrong?” Shen asked, wiping her mouth with the corner of her shirt.

“Hey, don’t look,” Gur-Rai hissed “but there’s someone watching us.”

Shen immediately began scanning the crowd. “Where?”

“Didn’t I just say not to look?” Gur-Rai motioned with his head across the way, where a masculine figure was leaning against the wall of a shop, staring at them.

“Maybe he’s a prostitute.” Shen shrugged.

“No, he doesn’t have the look.”

“There’s a look?”

“There’s a look, Lily, trust me.” He looked away. “But I think he does want something.”

Shen looked over. The person was still standing there. “What?”

“Dunno yet.”

“We could ask.”

“Ah, patience my dear Lily.” Gur-Rai tapped his eyebrow. “A true detective must deduce from context-HEY!”

Shen stood up and walked over to the figure, and Gur-Rai saw her strike up a conversation just as he heard footsteps, and saw his siblings returning to where they were waiting.

“Why do you look sour?” Kon-Mai asked, an old cloth shopping bag draped over her arm. The rest of the bags and boxes were being held by Dhar-Mon.

He pointed across the way where Shen was still talking to the figure, although now she was doing less talking and more nodding.

“Who is that person?” Dhar-Mon asked.

“I dunno.” Gur-Rai crossed his arms. “They were just...staring at us. Lily decided to be stupid and go talk-HEYY!” He cried as Kon-Mai followed Shen’s example and went to join the conversation.

Dhar-Mon looked down at his little brother, who was now pouting.

“You gonna go too?” Gur-Rai grumbled.

Dhar-Mon simply took a seat beside his brother.

Gur-Rai smiled and leaned his head on his arm. “At least we have each other, Big Guy.”

Shen whistled and waved them over. “GUYS! C’MERE!”

Dhar-Mon looked at Gur-Rai again. “I believe this may be of interest to us.”

Gur-Rai sighed. “WHAT IS IT, LILY?”

“I GOT US A DEAL! COME HERE!”

Gur-Rai’s eyebrows shot up. “A DEAL? WHAT KIND OF DEAL?”

“BROTHER, GET YOUR SCRAWNY LITTLE FORM OVER HERE!” Kon-Mai shouted across as the figure opened the door to the building they were standing against.

Gur-Rai finally stood, followed by Dhar-Mon, and the two followed the other members of their party inside, where the aforementioned mysterious figure was holding the door, seemingly waiting for them.

“Greetings.” They said with a smile. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

“Guys, this is Japheth.” Shen said, as she began to browse the incredibly dark shop. “He said he’s heard of you guys before, and he’s definitely heard of me, so he gave us a wicked discount!”

“It is my pleasure.” Japheth bowed. “I must say, Madron, I have been expecting you for some time.”

“You have?” Dhar-Mon looked at him warily.

“Oh yes.” Japheth smiled knowingly. “I saw it.”

“If I understand correctly,” Kon-Mai said as she sat down in a rickety wood chair “Japheth is a diviner.”

Gur-Rai sighed. “A fortune teller, Sis? Really?”

She scoffed. “In a world where the power of one’s mind can reveal the deepest of secrets and even connect those a thousand miles away, fortune tellers are where you draw the line? Truly?”

“Yeah, because most of them are hacks.” He looked over to Japheth, “No offense.”

“None taken. I understand, it is good to be wary of those trying to extort you.” Japheth went back to his table, upon which there was nothing but a bowl of water with some herbs. Behind him, leaning against purple felted walls, some magic trinkets and tarot cards were scattered around haphazardly. “That’s why I’m willing to perform for free.”

“Free?” Gur-Rai’s eyes shot wide open. “I like free.”

“I thought you would. And I’m not going to try and scam three large, blue monsters who could lay waste to me with a thought.” He nodded to Kon-Mai. “No offense, Miss.”

She rolled her eyes.

Dhar-Mon gently put the purchased items on the floor of the shop and stood beside his sister, looking over the table. “...I know this plant well. That is Silene Capensis.” He pointed to the bowl of water, or more specifically, one of the herbs floating in the bowl of water.

“Right you are. It helps me with my rituals.” Japheth nodded. “But I try not to rely on my herbs to determine for me. They simply help me see more clearly.” He pointed to the bowl. “I have Heimia Salicifolia and Artemisa Vulgaris in there as well.”

“I understood, like three of those words.” Gur-Rai said as he, too, leaned over Kon-Mai’s shoulder.

“I assume, Miss, you’d like to go first?” Japheth asked Kon-Mai.

In response, she shot her brothers a look that told them to back off immediately. Once they did, she put her hands on the table, palms up.

He smiled. “You’ve done this before then?”

“No.” She simply replied.

“Hm.” He took a bit of the water from the bowl and ran it over her palms, between the lines in her hands and her fingers, and then took her hands and closed his eyes.

Dhar-Mon shivered as a wave of something familiar came over him. He knew this feeling, similar to what he felt with Malinalli during his practice with her. But where hers was passionate and excited, this...was older. Deeper.

Japheth opened his mouth, hesitating for a moment. “You have no idea the wreckage left behind you.”

Kon-Mai’s face fell, and she looked like she wanted to pull away, but she didn’t.

“Your past is rife with destruction and sorrow, a tale of woe to rival the gods. Every happiness you sought was stripped from you, until they left you with nothing, empty, the perfect warrior. A puppet.”

Kon-Mai grit her teeth.

“Your present is warm, but something waits underneath. You have found emotions that you, Kon-Mai, have never felt before, and yet these feelings are familiar to you. You do not know why.”

Gur-Rai stifled a cough, and Kon-Mai glanced at him briefly. He saw distress in her eyes.

“But your future…” Japheth hesitated, and Kon-Mai felt her skin prickling. “Your future is full of love.”

“...Love?” Kon-Mai furrowed her brows.

“Love.” Japheth repeated. “This love will grow within you, expanding like a galaxy and burning like the sun. It will be yours to nurture, yours to care for, yours to admire no matter the form it takes. You will know fear in its presence, fear unlike any in the cosmos. But you mustn't balk from it.” He opened his eyes. “You will know what to do when the time comes.”

Kon-Mai pulled her hands away, seeming like she was in a trance. Dhar-Mon helped her to her feet just as Gur-Rai took her place in the chair.

“Okay, my turn.” Gur-Rai put his hands on the table, palms up. “Lets see what kind of trouble I’m going to get into.”

Japheth chuckled as he smeared the herb water over Gur-Rai’s hands. He took his hands, and his eyes grew wide for a moment, before he closed them.

“You have survived so much.” Japheth sounded impressed. “What brought most to their knees, you took in stride, no matter the pain, no matter your wounds, or how deep they were.”

Gur-Rai smiled slightly.

“But even the strongest diamond can be worn down, and you are simply waiting for the day you do shatter.”

Gur-Rai’s smile fell.

“You want to trust in what is real, but you are convinced it shall be torn away, like it was before. Like everything, and everyone. And you are convinced it shall be you that deals the final blow.”

“Yeah, great, please tell me my future involves me getting rich and moving to a tropical island.” Gur-Rai said jovially, but his voice was shaking.

Japheth chuckled. “Your future is made up of many voices, and many lives. You have known many, and you will know many more. You will know those who will betray you, those who will destroy you, and those who will shatter you before you finally find the ones who will put you back together and hold you.”

Gur-Rai yanked his hands away, and Japheth’ eyes snapped open. 

“I’m sorry.” Japheth said. “That one was very intense.”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Gur-Rai jumped up and moved near to the back wall, where he seemed to retreat into himself. Kon-Mai went over to him, and stood beside him, offering her arm to him. He didn’t look at her.

“I suppose it is my turn.” Dhar-Mon sat down, the chair creaking under him, and put his hands on the table.

Japheth smiled. “A fellow psionics user. This will be interesting. I will try not to frighten you~”

Dhar-Mon scoffed. “I do not frighten easily!”

“Hm.” Japheth took Dhar-Mon’s hands. “That is a lie.”

Dhar-Mon growled, but he held his hands still, feeling the energy from Japheth’ grasp sweep over him.

“Oh dear…” Japheth seemed to cringe. “There is so much you don’t remember. And yet you do, just under the surface...that will be painful to dig up again. Your past was so happy until…” Japheth sighed. “Well, the imprint is always there. Nothing is ever really forgotten.”

Dhar-Mon’s lip twitched.

“Your present; it is full of uncertainty. You have been one way for so long, now something else is expected of you, and you do not know how to fulfill it.”

Dhar-Mon lowered his head. “Just tell me...will I fail?”

“Depends on what you mean by fail.” Japheth smiled. “But your future burns with an intensity I rarely see. You care very deeply for someone, don’t you?”

Dhar-Mon looked up, almost frightened...and slowly nodded.

“She is all around you. I see her in your past, present and future. She is more powerful than she knows. But you know.” Japheth chuckled. “Don’t you?”

Dhar-Mon’s lip quivered.

“This fire you feel in your chest will be your guiding light in the darkness. But it will consume you, and it will consume all and everything in its path, ADVENT and XCOM alike.” Japheth leaned forward. “The light of your love will be the spark that sets off the fire of Rome.”

Dhar-Mon sat in silence as Japheth let go of his hands.

“...Are you alright?”

Dhar-Mon nodded, stood up, and bowed. “...Thank you.”

“Of course.” Japheth beckoned Shen over, but she shook her head.

“No thanks. I like being surprised.” She winked. “But let me know if you ever start offering lessons! I’d love to learn how to do that!”

.

.

“This is very interesting.” Guan-Yin set the diagrams to the side. “A war hammer and a sword? That might actually get you something valuable.”

“The actual weapons aren’t for sale.” Senuna smiled knowingly. “But with those schematics…”

“Perhaps.” Guan-Yin looked over them again. “Someone will be able to replicate it. You know humans.”

“Yes.” Senuna sighed wistfully. “I do. So, how about that Hellweave Armor?”

Guan-Yin sighed. “...Fine. I shall send you the blueprints. Happy, Sīlìng?”

“Very.” Senuna began to stand. “If that is all-”

“There is one more thing.” Guan-Yin beckoned her to sit back down, and Senuna raised a brow as she sat. 

“Oh? Do I have to pay extra?”

Guan-Yin shook her head, and her face was suddenly very serious, even moreso than before. “My little birds have told me of something that ADVENT is holding.”

Senuna grimaced, but she did look interested. “Is it another weapon?”

“No, Sīlìng, it’s not a weapon. It’s a person.” Guan-Yin leaned forward, her eyes soft with tears. “My source has the location of Shaojie Zhang.”

Senuna audibly gasped, covering her mouth. “Chilong? He’s alive?!”

“He is alive, though for how much longer I do not know.” Guan-Yin grasped Senuna’s arm tightly. “I suggest your team go to rescue him as soon as you can, Sīlìng. You and I both know what ADVENT will do to him if you don’t.”

.

.

.

.

.

(Is it 4:30 in the morning? Yes. But I was gonna get this out today one way or another! I just could not wait for this reveal.

I’ve had so many ideas for the Black Market, putting them all together was fun. The location was actually taken from my S.O’s XCOM 2 game, where the Black Market is near Russia. It was also partially his idea to have Shen’s mom be the Black Market leader, because we never see her mom, and I feel that opportunity should have been explored much more!)

#xcom #xcom 2 #xcom 2 war of the chosen #xcom the chosen #xcom assassin #chosen assassin #xcom hunter #chosen hunter #xcom warlock #chosen warlock #lily shen

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

A regal gyroid adventure

What a wonderful day for gyroid hunting! The crisp air and the cool breeze makes me want to sit by a tree and snuggle up with a cup of tea. I think this is by far my favorite type of weather - slightly cloudy skies with sunlight creeping through and gentle breezes with a slight chill.  

We’ve got some old friends from Rosevine with us - Almie and Pippa! Daisy Jane and Almie were the unlikely pair in high school - as in you wouldn’t think that they were close friends based on their personalities. Almie’s very much an extrovert, one who jumps into things without really thinking it through, someone who’s always looking for excitement and adventure. He tends to get in over his head sometimes but that’s what we love about him. Pippa, on the other hand, is a total introvert, the kind of person who likes to stay in her comfort zone and stick with what works. Although they’re almost total opposites, Almie and Pippa are very close - even more so after what they’ve been through.

There’s also another Medina sibling - Alon - who’s absolutely nothing like his family. While Almie and Daisy Jane are the unlikely duo, Alon and Mae are two sides of the same coin. Let’s just say that if Alon or Mae were here, most of us wouldn’t be having a good time.

This gyroid event is a regal themed one. The designs were a collaborative thing between Daisy Jane, Celinda, and Manda. It’s a mix of baroque, rococo, and vintage with a touch of modern - a totally fresh and unique spin on regal themed furniture. Having Daisy Jane help design gyroid items was the best thing to ever happen at the camp.

Almie’s been meaning to visit the camp for a while and he was going to help Daisy Jane move into the cabin until a family emergency pulled him away at the last minute. It’s been a rough year for the Medinas, especially for Pippa. The trip was kinda spontaneous but Almie felt that his sister really needed an escape - specifically a low-key one that won’t put her health in danger or wear her out. Dropping by in the middle of a gyroid event worked out perfectly - also the regal theme is something that Almie and Pippa totally dig so that makes it even better!

In between gyroid hunting, we took the time to enjoy the weather. Pippa was content lying the grass and collecting little treasures to put in her memory book. It’s good seeing her again after what she’s been through. Daisy Jane and I were kept up to date either by Almie or Abbey, but it’s not the same as being there for Pippa. Almie’s certain that Pippa’s gonna beat the cancer and knowing him and Pippa, I know that no matter what, she won’t go down without a fight.

This year was supposed to be a big year for Pippa. She was gonna practice driving and learn how to use her magic - a trait she and Alon inherited from their dad’s side. It was also the year Pippa wanted to get out of her shell, so she made a list of things she wanted to accomplish on her sixteenth year. While Almie wanted Pippa to be more adventurous and carefree like him, Alon wanted her to consider her future seriously and start climbing her way up to success by training to be a powerful wizard.

So Pippa tagged along with Almie on his little adventures much to Alon’s dismay. Alon’s similar to Mae as they are super ambitious and strive to be the best of the best. They’re good at what they do but sometimes they get arrogant about it to the point where they actively make others feel bad for not being as accomplished or busy as they are. To appease Alon, Pippa agreed to vigorous training, which ended up taking a toll on her physically and mentally. It didn’t help that around the same time Pippa was feeling off, which she initially attributed to being pulled by her brothers.

Eventually it became obvious that something was wrong. Pippa started getting bruises and everyone blamed Alon as the way he was training her was not safe at all. He would shrug off Pippa’s complaints when she had trouble keeping up, so Pippa kept quiet around him. Almie suspected something was wrong but because Pippa didn’t bring any attention to it, he thought it wasn’t a big deal.

A trip to the ER followed by tests at the hospital revealed that Pippa had leukemia. They say that you don’t know who your true friends are until you go through something rough. Almie and Abbey stuck by Pippa’s side, Alon did not. Abbey was the rock, she was always the source of strength for her kids. Almie was the optimist, he was the one who helped everyone get through the days. Alon carried on doing his own thing, seeing Pippa’s illness as an unfortunate setback and was determined to get her back on track after she “got over it”, which shows how much he cares.

For the next few weeks Pippa went through chemo. She was released from the hospital and it seemed like things were slowly going back to normal. Except it wasn’t - not by a long shot. Pippa adjusted to the changes and Almie did his best to help her out. The whole ordeal made them closer in ways that they’d never imagined. 

Much to everyone’s surprise, Almie began to take on more responsibilities by helping Abbey out whenever he can, taking Pippa to the hospital for appointments, and applying to community colleges. He’s still the same old Almie, but more grown up now, as he likes to say.

Around the time Almie was gonna drop by the camp to help Daisy Jane move in, things were looking good for Pippa. She still wasn’t out of the woods yet but as long as she kept up with her meds and appointments and followed safety measures, Pippa was taking care of herself. Then Alon and Mae had to ruin it for her.

Basically, Alon had enough of Pippa “slacking off” and wanted her to resume training. On top of that Mae insisted that Pippa start looking for jobs and wanted to do a mock interview with her. So they both convinced Pippa to take the bus to visit them despite the fact that she shouldn’t take public transportation because she’s immunocompromised. 

So not only Pippa contracted pneumonia, her blood work was also showing concerning signs. Abbey and Almie were furious but Alon and Mae refused to take responsibility. Apparently Mae had a minor cold when she met up with Pippa so she got an earful from her mom - which thankfully Daisy Jane never had to witness but heard secondhand. As much as we want to give Mae the benefit of the doubt, it’s hard to take her side because she was well aware about Pippa and made a really bad call.

Pippa hung on and pulled through after that harrowing experience. There was concern that she was going to relapse, which while it’s not a death sentence, it meant that her future was uncertain. It was a slow and complicated recovery, but she lived.

Almie and Alon haven’t spoken to each other in the months since Pippa’s hospitalization. The two used to have a good relationship but things went sour after Almie dropped out of college. With how manipulative and controlling Alon can be towards Almie, you’d think he was older. Almie’s willing to forgive if Alon admits that he fucked up badly but seeing that he never took Pippa’s health seriously, a reconciliation seems unlikely at the moment.

Right now, Pippa’s slowly getting back on her feet. She’s keeping up with her usual routine of meds and maintenance treatments. Things are still far from normal and she’s nowhere near where she was before the pneumonia but at least she’s getting there. All she can really do is take it one day at a time. While she and her family are optimistic, they’re well aware that while Pippa’s prognosis isn’t exactly poor, there are some unfavorable odds stacked against her.

Pippa later told me that picking gyroids was the most fun she’s had in forever. Turns out that going on a gyroid adventure and visiting the camp were on her list of things to do on her sixteenth year. The list was something she picked up again during her hospitalization as a way to pass the time and give her something to look forward to when she got home. She might not be able to get her driver’s license or go on a rollercoaster, but at least she can cross off gyroids, camping, and going off on an adventure with Almie.

Along with hunting for gyroids, I taught Pippa and Almie how to fish and catch bugs. Almie enjoyed chasing butterflies while Pippa had a great time wading in the ocean and picking up seashells. The good thing about coming in the middle of a gyroid event is that the items that take the longest to craft are out of the way so by now the stuff we have left to make take a couple hours at the most. Pippa was fascinated by the whole process and it looks like there’s talk about Pippa and Daisy Jane designing furniture for a future gyroid event!

On days like this, it’s great to slow down and take your time. As much as I like gyroid events, sometimes it feels a bit stressful, especially at the beginning when you want to get the big stuff out of the way. Later on it’s more chill as there’s not as much pressure to get things done within a time limit. Pippa managed to cross off a lot of things from her list - as well as add a bunch of stuff that will be crossed off later - so overall, it was a good day!

Pippa gave me a copy of her to-do list that’s up to date as of today. It seems like a lot to accomplish in a couple days but I’m sure we can do it! Here’s what she wrote down:

Take a class at Happy Room Academy

Dig up gems at Shovelstrike Quarry

Cross-pollinate flowers

Bake cookies

Take a hike in the forest

Go berry picking

Sail around with Gulliver

Make hats and scarves with the Able sisters

Go stargazing

Attempt latte art

Learn how to play a KK Slider song on guitar

#animal crossing #animal crossing pocket camp #Diary of a Junebug #headcanon ramble

[jeanscigarettes]

Fanfic Exchange!

((I’d like to apologize for a few things before we kick this off, the first, I didn’t use your favorite ships first. I haven’t technically met either Mirio or Tamaki yet, and some of the others I just had trouble writing them. Secondly, I’m not entirely sure you’ll enjoy this, so if you don’t please! Let me know! I re-do it! Small note, United Ones is Class 1-A while Twos of Power is 1-B. They both might be a bit ooc, but I tried. I’m so sorry.))

Prompt: Fantasy Au Ship: MonoShin For: @lambojet Song that inspired this: Lemon Boy by Cavetown, Ophelia by The Lumineers

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day was late as Neito Monoma prepared his hood and bag. It was the first time he had ever decided to sneak out of the castle. His parents had never allowed him outside of the castle grounds, claiming that they would be far too dangerous for him, yet... He couldn’t help but think that there was someone, something that was waiting for him outside of those woods that surrounded the castle and the town. So, once he heard the guards changing shifts, he slipped out and climbed down the vines that lead up to his window. Getting out wasn’t too terribly hard, at least, not until he heard a guard yell about an intruder. 

He sprinted towards the woods, he heard the guards following him, but thankfully, he lost them when he climbed up a tree. Letting out a small huff, he listened to the sounds of the woods. But, being alone in a dark forest as the moon drew further in the sky, it was intimidating. 

Still, he felt as though he had to do this. He would never be able to get out again, especially if he was caught sneaking out of the castle. So, once he heard the footsteps of the guards retreat back towards the castle, he climbed down the tree. Following a small, old stone bath, he eventually came to the edge of a clearing, in which he heard a voice.

“There once was a bittersweet man and they called him Lemon Boy / He was growing in my garden and I pulled him out by his hair like a weed / But like weeds do he only came and grew back again / So I figured this time I might as well let him be-”

He noticed his voice before he had seen the source, and immediately felt as though he were sleepy. He took the first step, then the second, until he was in the clearing. 

“You know. Eavesdropping isn’t polite.”

The voice seemed to release him from whatever trance Neito was in, and he actually got to take a look at the plants around the clearing. Each and every single one was glowing, and Neito’s eyes must have been the size of saucers because the boy laughed a little.

“Tamarix margarattiae, Also known as the Icarus glowing Flower, named both after the legend of Icarus and after the adventurer who found them. They are the hardest plants to take care of.” 

Neito looked over to the boy and took him in. Purple hair, dark eye bags, and eyes that had seen so much, yet not enough.

“Neito Monoma.” He said after a moment, holding his hand out politely. “My name is Neito Monoma.”

“Hitoshi. Most people aren’t out at this time.”

“Most people aren’t watering flowers that grow in the dark.”

“What do you do? For a living I mean. You’ve got too delicate of hands to be a farmer. Tax collector maybe? Are my ten years of avoiding taxes finally up? Are you here to attack me for tax evasion?”

“Actually... I’m the prince of this country.”

“Great. Another one to try and recruit me...”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve never heard of the Shinso family? The family of wizards and druids who live in these woods?”

“Well... Until tonight, I’ve never been allowed to meet anyone that my parents didn’t allow, let alone be able to hear of anyone they didn’t approve of.”

They were both silent for a few minutes before Shinso let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “You mean to tell me, that you snuck out, into the woods where dragons and bears lie, for no real reason?”

“When you put it that way, it sounds rather dumb.”

Hitoshi shook his head and sat down, and Neito felt the need to sit next to him.

“You aren’t scared of me?”

“Well, No. I’m not the judgemental type. Unless you’re from the United Ones. Those twenty state countries that think they are better than the Twos of Power. Besides, what do I have to be afraid of?”

“The fact I’m a wizard. The fact that you had already fallen into my powers and you could be put under them at any moment.”

“I... I suppose that that is fair.” Neito looked up at the moonlight and let out a small sigh. “So, your power comes from your voice right?”

“Yes. Normally, just responding to me is enough for me to control your body, but if you hear me sing... It’s just as powerful that way too.”

“You have a lovely voice.”

“I-” Hitoshi went quiet for a moment, looking away from Neito for a long moment. “No one has ever said that before. Called it terrifying, sure. Called me a monster, that’s normal... but no one has ever enjoyed my voice. Especially not someone who has been under my control.”

“Well, clearly neither of us are normal.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two boys had talked for hours, getting to know, even joking with each other a little by the time that Neito had decided he needed to get home. And honestly? Hitoshi felt for the first time, he might be able to have a friend. A real friend, not just someone who wanted to use him for his powers. 

Even so, he couldn’t help as he walked back home, but think that maybe this was all just one big lie. Maybe when they saw each other next it was because of some war with Neito demanding that he help him. Or maybe it would be because Neito demanded he be the court wizard or something.

He certainly wasn’t expecting him to show up at the clearing the next day, a stupid look on his face, and he certainly wasn’t expecting what he said next.

“You want to /WHAT/?!”

“I want to leave the kingdom. You said you’ve never left the woods before, aside from getting food and such things, right? So let’s leave. Your parents aren’t great, and mine are too controlling. You can go get a cart tomorrow morning, or later today? What time even is it? It doesn’t matter. The point is, we can leave and in the cover of darkness, no one can stop us.”

“But what about sleeping? I can’t sleep at night and you are clearly a day time person and the Icarus plants- they would die without me.”

“We can pull off the road and sleep by the cart during the day. We can grab a bunch of pot and you could bring the plants with us. With or without you Hitoshi, I am leaving. Tomorrow night.”

Hitoshi let out a long groan as he laid in the middle of the clearing, trying to think of what he should do. If they were to be caught, he would probably be executed for trying to kidnap the prince... But at the same time... Even his parents were scared of him because of his voice. That was why he lived in a cabin all alone in the middle of the woods. They were scared of him and what he could do if he really wanted to. Maybe... Maybe actually getting to travel was worth it.

“Fine. But I don’t have the money to buy both a cart and horses.”

“Don’t worry about that!” With that, Neito reached into his bag and pulled out a smaller bag of coins. “This should be enough. If not, then the taxes are far too high in the town.”

And so their journey began. They spent the night looking at maps and deciding where they wanted to travel to, the places they wanted to see. Most were just the big cities in the country, but some were places that Hitoshi’s parents had told him before they stopped talking to him.

They traveled for six months, Neito breaking down every wall that Hitoshi had built up. And Hitoshi wasn’t even sure if he realized he was doing it. But every backhanded compliment or snarky comment made his heart race ever so slightly. But it wasn’t until they found a baby dragon that Hitoshi had realized what was going on. He was falling in love with this idiot.

“Hitoshi... It’s hurt.” Neito had said softly, as he picked up the fire dragon, not even caring that it turned and bit him. Being as gentle as he could, he broke the arrow that had pierced its wing and removed it. He bit his lip gently and looked over at Hitoshi. “Is there anything you can do for it Hito?”

He hated that look. That look always meant trouble for Hitoshi, and yet, his heart skipped a bit. Letting out a small sigh he took the whimpering dragon from Neito and used what little healing magic he could to try and close the whole. Unfortunately, the hole didn’t fully close, as it had been too big. “That is all I can do for him. We can feed him until he gets better and learns to fly on his own.”

Neito had stayed quiet, his expression going dark and Hitoshi’s stomach dropped. Had he done something wrong? He had done his best, but was Neito going to abandon him like everyone else had? Hitoshi had begun to panic, Neito was his first friend, first love, and the first person who had ever stopped to talk to him.

And that look on his face was something that Hitoshi had seen before everyone left him.

“Hito... No. Hitoshi. I want to tell you something.” Neito hadn’t even looked up, not even when Hitoshi turned away and pet the dragon in his arms.

“You want to leave, don’t you. I get it. Just go. Everyone leaves me eventually anyway. It was just a matter of when.”

“What?! Of course not you idiot! Why would I want to leave you? You’re the first person who has ever treated me like I’m not some pretty face or some dumb prince.’ Neito put a hand on his shoulder, letting out a breath that Hitoshi could almost feel. “I just. Don’t want to ruin the friendship between us... But... I like you a lot. And not like in a friend way... I mean... I want to date you.”

It was Hitoshi who turned around, even if he didn’t remember or feel when he did it. In fact, it had taken all of his focus to not drop the dragon in his arms. 

“What?”

“I know it’s dumb and I shouldn’t have said anything, but I couldn’t keep it on my chest anymore. I’ve been feeling this way for quite some time now, and I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Neito looked away, rubbing the back of his neck as he let out a clearly embarrassed laugh.

“You... You like me? For me?” Neito nodded gently, not looking up from the ground. “Well... I guess we are both two stupid and awkward gays.”

“What?”

“I want to date you too. I just... I hadn’t realized it so soon. I thought I was just sick at first. You were my first friend... I hadn’t realized I was falling for you...”

“So... We’re boyfriends, right?”

“Yeah. We are.” 

With that, Hitoshi set the dragon down and they came together in a tender kiss, relieving any emotions that they might have been feeling before that moment. Afterward, the two brought the dragon along with them. From town to town until eventually Neito returned to his kingdom to take over. Hitoshi was never imprisoned and the two eventually married, their dragon becoming their royal pet and they lived out their days in peaceful happiness. Well, aside from those times when the ambassadors of the United Ones came to try and make an alliance. Those were the days Neito went F e r a l.

[theshapeshifter100]

Outpost

(Day 9 of @thewatchau‘s prompts)

The year Hank turned 22 was the year the Watch moved in.

There was an old Mage’s hold, further up the Rúnach river and less than a day’s ride from Imforis. No one really went there, no real need, and there was the old children’s story about the place being haunted.

Imforis was barely a village, definitely bordering on a hamlet. Everyone knew everyone. So when a stream of people came through out of nowhere, it caught attention.

Hank could hear them from his house. He and his mother were drying herbs, when the rumble of carts and chattering of voices could be heard all the way from the road.

He and his mother had shared a look, before Hank left the house and jogged down the track to the road. Well, calling it a road was laughable, just a slightly wider track.

“Hoy, a local!” called one of them, spotting Hank. He was easy to spot, being as tall as he was. “We’re on the right track to the Hold right?”

“Far as I know!” Hank hollered back.

“Great! Some folks be coming by river by the way!”

“Noted, thanks!” Hank paused for a bit, and had peered down at the long train that was slowly walking by. “What are you doing?”

“Fixing up the old Hold for the Watch!”

“That what?” it sounded familiar.

“That Watch! The organisation that’s going to look into the Enemy.”

Oh, yeah. The Enemy, who was currently hiding in the Western Forest right now. The forest they were currently backed onto. Hank didn’t like to think about that too much.

“Is that old place really good for that?!”

“That’s what we’re hoping!” that person had gone too far now to continue talking, and no one picked it up again.

Hank just, watched for a while, as horses pulling carts of stone and wood clopped by, and people carrying tools marched on. They were really going to do this.

Well their problem.

This continued on and off for the next few months, and finally, the rush downed down.

For about a week.

Then began a smaller trickle of people passing through town. Most would just go straight through, some would stop and look.

Most of them weren’t impressed. They’d look around the small market, some of the old buildings that were barely holding together, then look uninterested and leave.

Hank was not a man prone to anger, but every time he saw someone turn their nose at his home, he wanted to punch them. He would fold his arms on his stall selling herbs and feel his fingernails digging into his arms.

Then, again, things started to change. Someone he didn’t know wandered up to his stall, looking nervous.

“Er, hi,” they said, their accent more eastern than western. “Um, do you have a bakery?”

“’course, just down there, turn left. Got a loaf a’ bread sign. Can’t miss it,” Hank pointed them in the right direction, being of a reasonable sort.

“Ah, great! Thanks!” the newcomer grinned and walked off the same way Hank had pointed.

That newcomer kept coming back. Every market day.

“The Hold get’s crowded,” they explained. Frank was their name. “And I’m not a fighting type, just, some miller, you know?”

“What’s a miller doin’ joining the Watch?” Hank leaned on his stall, hands relaxed now.

“An army marches on its stomach my friend,” Frank shrugged. “Hoped to see if any of the bakers here would be willing to help out.”

To that Hank chuckled. “We have one baker, who deals with the whole village. She doesn’t have a lot of time.”

“Or an apprentice?”

“Yeah, but they’re busy too.”

“Shame,” Frank nodded to himself before changing the subject. “You know, some of these old buildings could really do with some work.”

“I know,” Hank sighed. “Ya don’t need to tell me. We try ta work on them every now and again. Probably the only reason they haven’t fallen down yet.”

“Well,” Frank leaned an elbow on the stall too, avoiding the carefully arranged bundles of herbs, “there were a bunch of folks from the Order of Stone that came, and a few other unaffiliated builders and carpenters that fixed the Hold up. Maybe we could get them to work on those buildings?”

Hank blew out his cheeks and raised his hands. “Not my place. I just sell herbs and help out where I can.”

“Oh come on Hank!” Frank shook his head. “I’ve only been here a few weeks and I can already see you’re a man who loves this place. And people can see that. People trust you around here.”

“They also know all my embarrassing childhood stories.”

“All the more reason to trust you,” Frank moved off the stand. “I’ve got to head back, but, think about it okay?”

“It’s not my decision to make!” Hank called after the miller as he left.

“You must know whose decision it is!” Frank called back.

Hank did. And she was stubborn.

He presented the idea to her though. Knocked on her door and told her of Frank’s offer.

“I’m not getting some weirdo from the Order of Stone to fix up those buildings!” she snapped. “They don’t understand these things.”

“Like what? They know stone, they know how to build things, they’ve been refurbishin’ the old Hold, how’s this any different?”

He knew the answer, and she gave to him.

“They’re not us.”

“If they had one of us with them then!”

“Are you volunteerin’ Hank Greenwood?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

He paused. Both his siblings had left home. It was just him and his parents to look after the pigs and to grow, gather and dry herbs. Both of these could be labour intensive, and his parents… they weren’t old. They could manage without him for a little bit.

“I am, yes.”

Her eyebrow went higher. “Well then. Let me know how you get on,” and she closed the door.

When he next saw Frank he told the miller what happened, and then everything happened, very quickly.

It didn’t take long for the builders to arrive, and Hank found himself co-ordinating between the builders from the Order and the handyfolk of Imforis. He wasn’t cut out of this! He was simple man, he prided himself on it! He wasn’t meant for giving orders like this!

But, here he was, running back and forth and trying to deal with arguments as the builders critiqued the old repairs and the local handyfolk taking that as an insult. The architects wanted to change the old buildings and were angrily and loudly shot down. Sometimes, both sides were just far too stubborn, but they slowly got something out of it.

No builder had managed to replicate the old Feadhainn architecture, and that showed. They tried to repair the oldest buildings, to make them habitable again, but some of them were too far gone. Those ones were torn down and new, more modern buildings out in their place, mostly made of local wood.

Hank could feel the ripple of anger throughout Imforis when this happened, and the new building felt like an unwelcome growth. Something you’d go into the nearest market town to see a doctor about.

He could see it from his stall, and he just rested his head on his forearms.

“Erm, excuse me?”

He lifted his head up, feeling a bit too tired to be dealing with an unfamiliar customer today.

“Yes?” he answered. The woman standing before him was clearly not from here, with curly red hair, bright blue eyes and pale skin. “Can I help you?”

“Could you tell me about some of these herbs? I don’t recognise all of them,” she said. At least she was polite, made a nice change.

Hank blinked for a second, trying to get his brain to work. Thankfully, he had learnt most of these while he was learning to read.

He rattled off a few of the more unusual ones, and the woman folded her arms, thinking before buying a few bundles.

“You look tired,” she commented as she handed over the necessary coins. “Long day?”

“Long month,” he sighed.

“Wow,” she looked around, “lots of work going on. Got anything to do with that?”

“Everything to do with it.”

The woman winced in sympathy. “I can see. It’ll be over soon enough, you’ll see,” she smiled, and then held her hand out. “I’m Fiona Flannail.”

“Hank Greenwood,” he shook. “Don’t tell me you’re involved with this lot?”

“Me? Oh no, just someone, wandering around. I’ve actually got work at the bakery,” she pointed in the right direction. “That’s what the herbs are for.”

“Never seen anyone bake with these,” Hank noted.

“Me neither!” her grin was giddy. “That’s what’s exciting!”

Hank found himself smiling too, her glee infectious. “Well, I hope you stay around for a while Miss Flannail.”

“We’ll see Mr Greenwood,” she had this odd smile on her face, which in his tired state, Hank couldn’t quite place. “Well, I’d better get to work. I’ll see you next time!” she waved and disappeared to the bakery while Hank waved back.

Fiona had been right, the construction didn’t last too long. At least, not on the old buildings. One of the builders had built up some rapport in Imforis, so built themselves a house, and became the local carpenter. Meanwhile, more people trickled to and fro from the Hold, and not everyone liked being there.

From what Hank heard, it was like a Guard base, but bigger, and not everyone wanted to live in a barracks. In fact, some people just, liked Imforis.

More houses were built. A school was built, which was a first, most people sent their children to the nearest town for schooling. All the old houses were clustered around the forest edge, but new houses built up on the north and south sides, arcing around to an extended business hub. A doctor popped up, so now they didn’t just have a herbalist.

Sitting at his stall now, with his daughter working on her school work beside him, Hank marvelling at the whole thing. In 15 years Imforis had changed into something twice, three times the size of what it had been.

It all happened, he supposed, because the Watch decided that the old tower just north of them would be perfect. How strange, that one decision could affect so many people.

(Phew, that might be the longest one I’ve done so far! To date it, well the Watch was announced May 1599, so I imagine construction would begin not too long after that.

I actually messed with my own timeline here, because Fiona wasn’t originally going to show up until 1600/1601, but given that the timeline is mostly in my head it’s pretty fluid and subject to change. Also yes, Fiona is slighlty flirting with Hank)

#The Watch AU #Hank Greenwood #Fiona Flannail #Ellie Greenwood #Imforis #House Marvin #Outpost #Runach Hold #Rúnach Hold #Watch Prompts

[everlarkficexchange]

The Price Of One's Soul

Written by: @peetaspikelets

Prompt 65: “You did all this for me?” Submitted by anonymous via @katnissdoesnotfollowback

Betaed by: @sponsormusings

Rating: M, for adult themes and coarse language.

A/N: This is the first part of my new story. There will be one or two more parts to come which will feature the prompt. It’s been awhile since I’ve written anything, especially Everlark and I’m so glad I decided to go for it. I’ve really missed these two beautiful souls. 

This story was heavily inspired by Mockingjay and Brooklyn 99 because I have no idea what it’s like to work as a police detective. 

Summary: 

“I’m proud and relieved to say that due to the FBI’s efforts, and Mellark’s outstanding work, Operation Mockingjay was a success and last night the FBI arrested Snow and 16 of his associates with a number of charges longer than my arm.”

Everyone in the room applauds and shouts out in glee. It’s not the most professional reaction you would see in a police station, but knowing Snow has finally been arrested brings an enormous sense of relief to everybody who’s ever come across his brutal handiwork.

Katniss, however, remains silent, her mouth unable to form words. She feels overwhelmed by the news and what Peeta was a part of. Luckily, Finnick looks over and must be able to read her mind as he’s voicing the only questions she wants to be answered right now.

“Does that mean Peet’s back? It’s over? He’s back at the seven five?”

Katniss eyes Haymitch with a wide, hopeful expression. Beside her, she thinks she feels Gale tense up, but she’s too engrossed in what’s happening right now to linger on it. Finally, Haymitch meets her gaze and his lips curl into a small smile they don’t see very often. “The boy is back.”

Really? Are you sure about that Haymitch? *EVIL CACKLE*

Enjoy! Let me know what you think :)

CHAPTER 1

“Everdeen! Hawthorne! Where the hell have you been? The daily briefing started 10 minutes ago.”

“Sorry, Captain,” Katniss replies, dropping her backpack on the dirty floor of the briefing room and taking a seat at the front. “We thought we could get in some shooting practice before work. Instead, Gale spent most of his time flirting with Recruit Officer Undersee.”

“I was not,” Gale huffs, taking the empty chair beside her. “She didn’t know how to hold her gun properly, so I thought I’d be a nice guy and teach her how to grip it correctly.”

“Yeah right,” Katniss answers dryly. “With all the giggling I heard in her booth I bet that’s not the only thing you helped her with.”

“What, are you jealous Everdeen?” Gale asks, shifting in his chair to face her, his eyes glinting with smugness. “Because really you don’t need to be. I could always take you out the back and show you how to grip my –”

“That’s enough!” Captain Abernathy snaps, his voice booming off the rooms yellow stained walls. He looks around the group in annoyance. “It’s like I’m stuck here on a daily basis babysitting a bunch of kids.”

“Aww don’t say that, Dad. You know you love us,” Detective Finnick Odair chimes in from across the room. He starts swinging back on his chair and looks over to Katniss, giving her a cheeky wink.

Katniss rolls her eyes and shrugs her braid off her shoulder. She knows when Finnick gets in this type of mood there’s no point in trying to stop him from riling people up. Even someone as superior as the Captain doesn’t miss out on his juvenile antics. It can be annoying at times, but with the seriousness of the job, she’ll admit there are some days she’s grateful for his jovial character.

 “Finnick, be quiet,” Annie hushes beside him.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Finnick reassures his girlfriend. “We all know deep down the Captain is like a big cuddly teddy bear. He pretends to act all gruff and indifferent when I know for a fact the other week he gave Effie from Human Resources a big –”

“If one more person speaks out of turn again, they’ll be on desk duty for a month,” Captain Abernathy snaps, interjecting into the conversation. A vein pulses in the middle of his wrinkled forehead for emphasis.

Sighing, Finnick falls silent and tilts his chair forward, so all legs are safely back on the ground. He stares at the front of the room with a pout like he’s a child who’s been scolded by his favorite teacher.

“Now children, eyes to the front, and let’s get back to discussing the Coin murder case.”

Everybody straightens in their chairs, giving him their full attention as he turns on a large television. Katniss stares as a number of photographs pop up on display, showing the latest crime scene the precinct is investigating. She hasn’t seen these before, so she leans forward in her seat to examine the images of the body.

After all her years of working as a police officer and then being promoted to detective, most crime scenes don’t faze her anymore. It’s like she’s been immunized to the absolute horror human beings can inflict upon one another and today, this case is no exception. The female victim got repeatedly shot with a crossbow. It isn’t a pretty sight, but her mind has the ability to compartmentalize.

After a few minutes, Katniss feels bored as she isn’t one of the lead detectives on the case. Instead, she turns her head to where Finnick and Annie are sitting across the aisle from her. Both are great detectives and good friends of hers. They’re also known as the precinct’s most nauseating couple. Katniss can count on multiple hands how many times she’s caught them at work in a compromising position. She’s had more views of Finnick’s bare arse than any other guy she’s dated. Not that there’s been many, as she’s too committed to the job and not a big socialiser. After a 12-hour shift investigating murders, assaults and robberies she never feels the need to get dressed up and go out. She much prefers going home to her small but comfortable apartment, sitting around in her pyjamas, drinking hot chocolate and watching Netflix.

She doesn’t have many friends. When she was a teenager, she lost her beloved sister Prim and her parents in a car bombing, and ever since then she’s had difficulties in learning how to trust and be vulnerable around people. Even now years later, the hurt is still raw, but she knows - thanks to years of therapy - that she can’t live as a hermit for the entirety of her life.

So, over time and working in close proximity with Gale, Finnick and Annie she’s slowly taken baby steps and allowed them to worm their way into her heart. Even if she wanted to run and hide, their tenacity and loyalty have made it impossible for her to leave. They have her back and she has theirs.

Even Captain Abernathy plays an important role in her life. When they were growing up, she and her sister used to call him Uncle Haymitch, as he was good friends with their parents. He was always a permanent fixture at family barbeques and any big social occasion. Like her, he didn’t handle the nature of their deaths well. Where she purposely isolated herself from the world and didn’t eat or speak to anyone for months, Haymitch turned to white liquor for comfort. In the end, it got so bad that he could barely function. Now years - and a few stints in rehab later - he’s proudly sober and continues slaying that demon daily.

There is another person in Katniss’ life. Certainly the most important person. But these days she tries not to think about him too much.

From the moment Detective Peeta Mellark started his first day at the 75th precinct in Panem, he made it impossible for anybody to hate him. When he first stepped out of the elevator with his carefully styled blond hair and shining blue eyes, it was like he’d just come from a GQ photo shoot. His friendliness and charisma soon followed and caught the attention of everybody immediately, especially the women. Katniss tried to hold it against him, as she was wary of people who had that kind of influence, but his detective skills were too damn good to ignore. In the first few weeks of his arrival he helped her bring down Seneca Crane, a cybercriminal mastermind she’d been hunting for 2 years. After that, they’d worked multiple cases together and he quickly rose from being her casual drinking buddy and trivia teammate to her best friend and confidante.

On their shared days off they would often have lunch together at his family’s bakery before Katniss took him to the local park to teach him how to use a bow and arrow. He wasn’t very good, but he was always keen to join her every week. He had a habit of trying to make her laugh in order to throw her off, but it never worked and the day always left a big smile on her face.

But while he may not have been good at archery, one of Peeta’s many talents was baking. A taste of one of his flaky cheese buns always had her moaning out in pleasure. It soon became a weekly ritual for him to bring in an assortment of baked goods for the whole squad to massacre.

Those were the good old days filled with wonderful memories.

And then things changed.

The day Peeta told her he had to go away for a case and he wasn’t sure when he would be back had come as a shock to her. He had become such a permanent fixture in her life that she felt a sudden rush of loss and sadness. The rational side of her understood and knew the job came first, but the whole situation sucked. After they finally managed to say their goodbyes, she watched him walk away with nothing but a box of his belongings in his hands. But before he got into his car he’d paused and turned around to face her. She swore she saw intense longing staring back at her, an emotion she’d never seen from him before, and it had caused her to freeze in place.

As weeks flew by, she continued being haunted by that moment and spent most of her days trying to decipher what it meant. But ultimately, cases piled up on her desk and she soon stopped replaying the moment, coming to the conclusion that it meant nothing.

“Now, O’Dair. Cresta,” Haymitch barks, pulling Katniss out of her thoughts. “How’s your investigation going on John Cato and Rebecca Clove?”

“We don’t have anything solid on them yet, Captain,” Annie answers with disappointment.

“It won’t be long though,” Finnick adds. “They may be cunning, but they’re also overly confident. It’s a bad combination. They’ll slip up eventually.”

Haymitch nods, satisfied. “Hopefully it’s sooner rather than later.”

“According to our informant, they’re supposed to be meeting with their supplier in a couple of weeks. This could finally be our opportunity to arrest all their sorry asses,” Finnick tells him.

“Good. Keep on them for the next couple of weeks. If you need back up call Everdeen and Hawthorne.”

“Aye, Aye, Captain,” Finnick says, giving him a mock salute.

Haymitch groans in annoyance and closes his eyes. His mouth starts moving slightly, giving Katniss the impression he’s trying to keep his anger in check by counting to 10.

“Hey, Everdeen,” Gale whispers.

Katniss looks over and notices his chair is too close to her own. His muscular thigh is now touching hers, and she can feel the heat radiating off him like he’s trying to burn a hole through her pants.

“You feel like getting some breakfast at Sae’s after we wrap up here? My treat,” he adds, his gaze penetrating.

She narrows her eyes and wonders what the hell is going on with him lately. She’s not sure why he’s basically sitting right up against her and she can’t crack the ardent look he’s now giving her. Over the last few months, she’s noticed the increase of social invitations from him, all of which seemed to be on the romantic side. Only last week he invited her out to dinner to the swanky Panem Bistro. Luckily she’d been sick with a cold, so it had been easy to get out of it. But it hadn’t prevented him from stopping by her apartment with a container of soup.

The shooting range they attended earlier this morning was his idea, but as it was work-related, she didn’t see any harm in saying yes. But now the whole situation was getting confusing - one moment it seemed he was asking her out on a date, and the next moment she’s witnessing him flirt with Recruit Officer Undersee. She doesn’t get men - or more specifically, she doesn’t get Gale Hawthorne.

“Now, before I dismiss you I have an announcement to make,” Haymitch says, turning off the screen. Both Katniss and Gale straighten up in their chairs, forgetting their conversation for a moment, taking note of their Captain’s serious tone. She swears there’s now a look of pride etched upon his face as he looks around the room. And she must not be the only one who notices the change, as all voices in the room cease, and look up at him with renewed interest.

“Now, what I am about to tell you we’ve never been able to discuss as the details were highly classified. But as you all know, 18 months ago Detective Mellark left us to be part of an undercover operation with the FBI.”

Katniss’ body freezes. The sound of his name hits her hard.

“What you didn’t know was that Detective Mellark agreed to infiltrate the Capitol Mafia.”

There are surprised gasps all around the room, the loudest coming from Katniss. She knew he was going undercover, but she had no idea who or what it was for. Obviously, he couldn’t tell her anything and she understood that. But the Capitol Mafia?! That was huge. They’re the worst of the worst. Their leader Cornelius Snow is a sadistic bastard, who runs a highly dangerous underground gang who engage in money laundering, murder, kidnapping, drugs, and bribery. He’s known as the most notorious criminal in Panem, and he was good at covering his tracks. Whenever the precinct investigated one of his crimes there was barely any evidence to link him and when a witness did come forward they were always found poisoned with Nightlock days before they could testify in court.

“It was called Operation Mockingjay,” Haymitch continues above the hushed whispers. “It was originally supposed to be a 6-month stint. However, there were…complications and Detective Mellark was forced to stay undercover longer than we would have liked.

Katniss grips the table, her knuckles turning white.

“I’m proud and relieved to say that due to the FBI’s efforts, and Mellark’s outstanding work, Operation Mockingjay was a success and last night the FBI arrested Snow and 16 of his associates with a number of charges longer than my arm.”

Everyone in the room applauds and shouts out in glee. It’s not the most professional reaction you would see in a police station, but knowing Snow has finally been arrested brings an enormous sense of relief to everybody who’s ever come across his brutal handiwork.

Katniss, however, remains silent, her mouth unable to form words. She feels overwhelmed by the news and what Peeta was a part of. Luckily, Finnick looks over and must be able to read her mind as he’s voicing the only questions she wants to be answered right now.

“Does that mean Peet’s back? It’s over? He’s back at the seven five?”

Katniss eyes Haymitch with a wide, hopeful expression. Beside her, she thinks she feels Gale tense up, but she’s too engrossed in what’s happening right now to linger on it. Finally, Haymitch meets her gaze and his lips curl into a small smile they don’t see very often. “The boy is back.”

“Yes!” Finnick yells, jumping from his chair and fist bumping the air.

“When can we see him? Where is he?” Katniss bursts out, thankful her mouth is finally cooperating with her brain.

Haymitch pauses for a moment, a flash of hesitation in his eyes before he says. “You’ll find him in my office.”

Before Katniss knows what she’s doing, she’s leaping out of her chair and racing towards Haymitch’s office. She hears Finnick’s loud, hurried feet rushing up behind her.

When Katniss reaches her destination she’s confused for a moment, and wonders if in all the excitement and shock she’s accidentally run into the wrong office. She looks up at the name plaque on the door and knows immediately she’s in the right spot. But sitting on the opposite side of the Captain’s desk with his back to them is a man with broad shoulders and ink black hair. His whole body stiffens at their sudden intrusion before he slowly stands up and turns around to face them.

Katniss’ mouth drops open in shock. After Haymitch’s announcement, she was expecting to find her best friend with his signature grin waiting for her, before running over and wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug. But to her utter disappointment, none of that happens. Instead, the person in front of her looks like a stranger. He has Peeta’s familiar blue eyes, but they’re now etched with harshness and shaded by dark circles. His cheekbones are also sharp and defined like he’s lost some weight and his overall demeanour is wary and guarded.

“You’re back?” Katniss says, her tone coming out more like a question than a statement. 

Peeta takes her in silently for a moment. His eyes narrow in quiet contemplation as they travel down from head to toe, mapping her out, trying to become reacquainted. His shoulders relax slightly and he nods his head in acknowledgement. “Katniss.”

His voice is rough and deep like he’s been smoking a pack a day and he makes no other effort towards her. He’s just standing there, staring at her intently and it makes her feel lost.

“Wow, Peeta,” Finnick says, coming up to stand beside her, and taking in his friend’s new hair and dark leather attire. “You’re a brunette now.”

Peeta smirks and runs a hand through his hair, the action making it scruffier. “Yeah, well I thought if I’m going to join the dark side, I may as well put the effort in and go all out.”

Finnick chuckles nervously and leans against the door frame. It’s clear he’s not sure how to take this new Peeta Mellark as well.

“You didn’t join the dark side,” Katniss blurts out before her brain can catch up with her. She doesn’t like the way he’s talking. “You’re a police detective who went undercover to bring down one of the worst criminals in Panem’s history. What you did in the last year and a half was incredibly brave and the operation was a success because of you.”

Peeta looks over to her and shakes his head.

“Peeta, you’re a great detective –”

“Katniss, stop,” Peeta says, raising his hand suddenly, cutting her off. “I don’t want to talk about this now. So don’t go there.”

“It’s okay Peeta,” she continues, ignoring his wish and taking a tentative step towards him like she’s approaching a baby deer. “You’re home and you’re safe. It might take you awhile to forget about Snow, but –”

Peeta suddenly charges towards her, making Katniss freeze mid-sentence. He’s up in her face, looming down at her with a twisted and grotesque snarl. A rush of fear floods her insides.

“Forget, about Snow? Really, Katniss? You say it like it’s so damn easy, but you have no idea,” he spits out. She hears him take a few deep breaths, his eyes still piercing hers, before he transforms his face into a look of indifference. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don’t want to forget? That I don’t want to forget Snow? That I don’t want to forget my time with him?”

His words scare her and suck the breath out of her lungs. His cold, unfamiliar glare awakens her need to run and lock herself in a cupboard like she used to do when she was younger. No matter what she ever said, the old Peeta would never have treated her like this. He’s not her Peeta anymore. She can’t even see a glimpse of the old him. He’s acting like their friendship never existed.

The atmosphere in the room is left cold and uneasy as Peeta takes a few steps back and looks down at the floor. He rubs a hand roughly across his forehead multiple times like he’s in pain or agitated.

“So, ummm…you’re back for good then?” Finnick asks carefully in the soundless space, hoping to break the discomfort.

“For now,” Peeta replies simply, not caring to extend his answer as he leans back against Haymitch’s desk. “So, enough about me. What have I missed around here?”

“Nothing much,” Finnick shrugs. “We got a new vending machine in the break room and the department finally updated our surveillance equipment. I wanted to take the new body cams home to try on Annie, but she wouldn’t let me.”

The corners of Peeta’s mouth curl up. “I’m glad to hear you’re still together. I would have thought by now you’d have fucked things up.”

A look of hurt flashes across Finnick’s face before he puts his signature smile back on. “Nah, man. Annie’s my reason for living. She’s my everything.”

Peeta’s eyes soften slightly at the sentiment and he nods his head. He briefly looks over to Katniss, but before she can meet his eyes, he’s turning back around and giving his attention to the new face standing at the door.

“Hey, Mellark. Good to see you, man,” the familiar voice of Gale rings out as he saunters into the office and stands beside Katniss.

“Gale. Nice to see you,” Peeta replies curtly, his eyes narrowing at his old colleague.

Although back in the day the two never fought and worked well together when they had to, there always seemed to be an underlying tension between them which Katniss never understood. She found it difficult sometimes as they were both her friends, yet if she wanted to hang out with them, she usually had to do it separately.

“I like the look you’ve got going on at the moment. It suits you.”

Katniss and Finnick turn and give each other perplexed looks.

“Thanks,” Peeta answers tightly, his jaw tense and eyes cold.

“Yeah, so you’ll notice some changes around here,” Gale continues, swinging his arm around Katniss’ shoulders, and bringing her in closer to his body.

She grows rigid on the spot, too surprised by the public display of affection to push him away.

“We moved some people around in the bullpen after you left on your…mafia holiday. Katniss is now at your desk next to me, but there’s an empty one near the kitchen you can have –”

“No!” Katniss cuts in and wriggles herself free of Gale’s grasp. “Peeta can have his desk back. It’s fine. I’ll take the spare one.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Peeta replies back gruffly. “I’ve already spoken to the Captain and I’ll be moving a desk down to the records room.”

“The creepy basement where no one ever goes?” Finnick asks surprised.

“Yeah, it’s perfect. Besides, open spaces don’t agree with me anymore.”

As he says this Katniss looks down and notices his left hand is shaking like it’s in spasm.

That’s new.

She watches the action sadly, feeling a sudden rush of warmth towards him, which is unexpected after their disastrous reunion. It’s a vulnerable moment (which the others choose to ignore) and it reminds her of the old Peeta. Yes, their first meeting has gone horribly, but once he gets back into his old routine he will remember who he is again and will be back to the Peeta Mellark they all know and love.

She’s pulled out of her reverie by Peeta who’s picking up a ratty box from the floor. She’s curious to know what’s inside, but he quickly balances the weight against his muscular chest before she can sneak a peek. As he heads towards the door, he stops calmly in front of Katniss and Gale.

“So, I’m assuming you two are together now,” he states evenly, his expression giving nothing away.

Katniss’ eyes widen at his assumption but before she can correct him, he’s already walking past them and calling out unkindly over his shoulder. “Sending you my condolences.”

The words sting and Katniss feels tears start to well in her eyes.

They watch him walk down the stairs to the basement, without even a backwards glance. Finnick turns to her in disbelief, while Gale mutters out, “I always knew he was an asshole,” before stomping out of the office.

Katniss wants to run after both of them. She wants to yell at Gale to find out what’s going on with him. And she wants to shake Peeta so hard that he comes back to himself, but her body won’t move. Instead, she feels exhaustion set in and it keeps her rooted to the spot.

“It will be alright, Kat,” Finnick tells her kindly, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “We all know you and Gale aren’t a couple and never will be. And even if it was true it’s none of Peeta’s business anyway. What he said was really uncalled for.”

Katniss nods her head, refusing to show any emotion. Instead, she says, “Thanks Finnick,” and heads towards the bullpen in a daze.

“He’ll come around,” he calls out behind her. “Just give him some time.”

Quietly, she sits down at her desk, ignoring the worried looks being sent her way and opens her top drawer, pulling out a handful of colored photographs. For years the squad used to display pictures of themselves all around the precinct. Some were from Christmas parties, training days, or simply goofing around with each other in between cases. When Peeta went undercover, Haymitch made her take down all the photos that featured him, in order to protect his cover. And they’ve laid in her drawer safe and sound ever since.

She stares sadly at the bundle in front of her, each colored memory seeming like a lifetime ago. In every photo, Peeta is either making a funny face or staring at the camera with an easy-going smile. She wonders when she’ll see it again and then a painful thought occurs to her.

What if they’re wrong? What if he never comes around?

A single tear falls quietly down her cheek. What if Peeta Mellark is lost to her forever?

#Springtime Edition 2019 #submission #peetaspikelets #prompt 65

[reddeadmort]

This a different kind of request but how about Arthur & kid reader where he saves a kid from the streets and becomes a father figure like Dutch/Hosea did for him and they’re really good at picking pockets/running scams with Hosea & co but Arthur goes really overprotective Dad on them when they ask to go robbing a coach or something

Okay, so this ended up being a lot longer than I intended 🤦. I’m a sucker for a good backstory/establishing motivations, and kinda got caught up in that. Ending lines unashamedly nicked from the mission where Kieran saves Arthur’s ass 😂.

Arthur Morgan x Teen Reader | You’ve got to pick a pocket or two to get to Tahiti

Guidance: Some swearing, gender-neutral reader, father/child type relationship.

Words: 3.1k

As you stood behind the Valentine saloon, leaning against a shed while you watched the other kids squabble over a game of Horseshoes, you thought that maybe this life wasn’t so bad. You had been made an orphan by dysentery two years ago, at the age of 13; you’d initially gone to live with your uncle in Saint-Denis, but the near-daily beatings had forced you to seek refuge elsewhere after only a few months. 

Unsurprisingly for a large city, you weren’t the only kid with nowhere to go, and you quickly had found a small gang willing to look after you and teach you the ropes. You had to pay your way of course, but once you learned how to pick pockets and use lockpicks it was easy.  You worked hard at these skills, and were proud of how good you were, though you were pretty sure your parents wouldn’t have been. 

For the last year or so, life had been pretty good. You always found a roof to sleep under, and didn’t go hungry too often; while the future didn’t exactly look bright, the present wasn’t a complete mess. You were happy, until you’d been told by the leader to steal from the wrong carriage. You’d hopped on to the back, unseen, and made short work of the lockbox. You’d been expecting some bags of jewellery, nice small things you could easily hide away and split between the others kids – 10 kids selling a ring or two at a few different places looks far less suspicious than one kid with a whole bag. Instead, you’d found a pile of documents. 

Flicking through, trying to see if there was any money in any of the envelopes, you had finally paused, concentrating hard as you tried to read one of the letters in your hand. You weren’t too sure what it said, but you could just about read the signature at the bottom; it was from the Mayor’s office. When you had read the recipient’s name, your heart had dropped. Angelo Bronte. Mr Bronte had made it clear he didn’t appreciate any of your lot even looking at him and his men, let alone rooting around in his stuff; you still hadn’t found all the pieces of the last kid that tried to swipe something from his pocket at that party.

You had quickly stuffed the letters back in the box, readying yourself to jump off, as the carriage had quickly turned into the grounds of a large house. One of the guards had seen you almost immediately and grabbed you before you even had a chance to attempt to escape. Angelo himself had gotten a good look at you as he stepped down from the carriage, and instructed the guard to take you to the kitchens. You hadn’t stuck around to find out if he meant to feed you or make you alligator food. You’d bitten the guard holding you hard, then run around the back of the house, slipping through the railings. You’d hidden in the first carriage leaving the city that you could find, and had stayed there until Rhodes. From there, you’d hitched a lift where you could, with or without the driver’s permission. And so you’d ended up in Valentine.  

This little bunch of kids you’d found here were nice; a bit younger than you, which made you the responsible one of the group. This made you uncomfortable, but you’d done your best. You were living in an abandoned shack just beyond the edge of town; you’d have happily camped out under the stars out here when you could, but these kids were softer than you. They all knew each other, runaways from some home in a place called Blackwater. They hadn’t been out here long; you’d tried your best to teach them how to survive, but they were too young to really understand the trouble they were nor be any good at stealing.

Your daydreaming was interrupted by shouts and swearing, and you saw one of the kids sprinting down the alleyway towards you, clutching a large satchel.

“(Y/N), look what I got! Isn’t it great!” The kid held the satchel up to you as you looked up to see what you assumed to be the owner run into the alley. He was huge; tall, built like a brick shithouse. And he was pissed.

“Come here you little bastard!” It was more of a growl than a yell, and he started to run towards you. There was no way you were going to be able to outrun this man, and with the two pistols, knives and rope hanging from his gun belt you knew that wasn’t much point even trying. But you sure as hell weren’t going to let this young kid take the beating that was coming either. Snatching the satchel, you yelled at the others to run as you stood your ground. They scattered, all going in completely different directions; at least they’d learnt something from you, you thought.

You stared directly into the eyes of the man, as his run slowed to a jog and he came to a stop in front of you.

“Give me the satchel, kid.” His voice was low and he muttered through gritted teeth.  “And tell me where the lad that took it went. Me an’ him need to have a little…..discussion.”

“This satchel Sir? I took this satchel from you, I do apologise. I was under the mistaken belief that it belonged to my good friend.” You may struggle to read, but you’d learned a few things from being around all those posh nobs in Saint-Denis. You held out the satchel, and the man took it back carefully. You’d expected him to snatch it; to grab you, to yell at you. Instead, he was staring down at you, frowning slightly.

“It weren’t you kid. And I ain’t about to discipline someone who ain’t done nothin’. Where is he.”

“Who, sir? I don’t see anyone but us here.” You gulped slightly as you said this, realising how true it was; this man could kill you, and no-one would probably even notice. But as you stared back into those blue-green eyes, something told you he wouldn’t.

The man in front of you sighed as he swung his satchel back over his head.

“Kid, how old are you? What’s your name?”

“I’m old enough to know not to give that information out, sir.” You regretted this as soon as you said it, you didn’t want to rile him further. You were relieved when he laughed.

“Fair enough kid, fair enough” he chuckled. “Well, I’m Arthur Morgan. When was the last time you ate? I’d happily buy you some food. You’re a good kid, and you don’t deserve to starve.”

You desperately wanted to take him up on his offer. Valentine was a small town, not many people to pickpocket; and, if you were honest, you were scared of doing so, everyone seemed to be armed. You’d managed to get hold of some scraps from one of the kind ladies in the saloon but had given them to the other kids. But your brain was screaming at you to get the hell out of this situation.

“Nah, I’m good, thanks mister.” The man you now knew as Arthur continued to stare at you, like he was looking for something; then he tucked his hand into his pocket and threw you a few coins.

“Suit yourself. Be careful, kid” he said as he turned and walked away. You watched him as he left; you certainly didn’t think that was how this situation was going to end when you’d seen Arthur thundering towards you.  

The first thing you did was run to the general store and buy as many canned goods you could carry. You’d have to hide them from the others, ration them, but hopefully it would tide you over and take some of the pressure off. As you left, the shop owner closed and locked the door behind you for the evening.

It wasn’t a long walk back to the shack you shared, but you walked slowly, admiring the stars above you. Life might be harder out here, but it sure was a nice place to be. Your contentment was shattered when you heard screaming and crying from the shack ahead of you. Ducking behind a rock, you looked out only to see the younger kids being bundled into a carriage with the words “Saint Christopher’s Orphanage” on the side. There was nothing you could do, there were at least 4 men with the carriage and what looked like a nun inside. Orphanages could be horrible places, you knew the stories, but you knew these kids were too young to survive on their own yet. Maybe in a few years.

Sighing, you picked up your bag, slipped away from the commotion and headed back into Valentine. You were close when it started raining; at first, it was refreshing; that day had been hot. But it wasn’t long before you were soaked to the bone and shivering. As you reached the edge of Valentine, you tried the doors of a few sheds and outhouses only to find them locked. You headed for one place you knew would be dry, warm, and had a broken backdoor – the stables. You quietly slipped in the back, seen only by a couple of horses; they gave a soft whinny and snorted as you crept past into an empty stall. It was a risky place to sleep, but no-one should be in again until the morning, and you’d be long gone by then.

It didn’t take long for you to start to doze off – if life on the streets had given you one thing, it was the ability to fall asleep quickly in the strangest places. You’d only been there, nestled in the warmth of the hay, for half an hour when suddenly you were awoken by an extremely angry, red-faced, pot belly man screaming in your face.

“What do you think you’re doing in here?! You planning on robbing me eh? Sleeping here so you can wake up in the middle of nights and steal my hard earned money?! I should kill you, you little rat!” 

He grabbed you by the front of your shirt, lifting you off the ground, and threw you to the floor again. You scrambled to your feet and were going to try and grab for your bag until you saw the barrels of a shotgun levelled at your face. You didn’t even bother trying to reason with the man; he was drunk, you could smell it, and obviously a lunatic. You launched yourself at the front stable doors, praying they were open. They were, and you stumbled as you slammed through them, just as the spray of a shot hit the wall next to you. You landed face first in the mud, and tried to get to your feet, slipping, as a kick bowled you over onto your back.

“You’re going to die you little thief!” 

The man was barely able to stand as he pointed the gun at your head, but he was so close it wouldn’t matter. You heard footsteps behind you, thumping, running, when suddenly the fat red-faced man was floored with the hardest punch you’d ever seen.

“God dammit.” You heard some muffled swearing above you as the man who’d intervened shook his fist out – that punch must have hurt. Wait, is that….

“Arthur! What the hell you doin’?”

“Just, err, having a discussion with the stable owner about this kid, Lenny.”

“Some discussion Arthur! Come on, we best get out of here, the Sherriff’s already pissed at us after the saloon incident earlier.”

Arthur held out his hand and helped you up. “Kid, I reckon you should come with us. Looks like you need a place to sleep, and one where you won’t wake up with a gun pointed at ya.”

You had no idea what to do. You didn’t know these men, but he had saved you, and he had been kind to you earlier.

“I…thanks Mr Morgan.”

“Come on then, you can ride with me.” Arthur and Lenny turned, walking quickly towards their horses. They turned when they heard your footsteps sprinting off towards the stable.  

“Oh for god’s sake…” Arthur groaned, then sighed and shook his head. He was just about to turn back to his horse when he saw you re-emerge carrying your bag. He smiled as you ran towards him, then hoisted you up behind the saddle.

“Hold on tight kid, me and Lenny been havin’ a few at the saloon so this might not be the smoothest ride. And if I start singing, don’t laugh.” You clung to Arthur’s jacket as you cantered out of town, heading south.

—-

A few months later, and you were settling into gang life well. Your first night had been…. interesting to say the least. Arthur had sat you by the fire, leaving the girls to fuss over you, as he went to talk to Hosea and Dutch. Dutch thought the whole situation was hilarious; his stray was now bringing home its own strays. Hosea had been less keen, mostly because he was concerned about dragging another young soul into this life. But, at the end of the day, there had been no real resistance to you staying.

Arthur had immediately taken you under his wing and did his best to teach you how to survive. You’d never shot a bow or gun before, but Arthur took you out to practice with bottles and cans, and even bought you your own varmint rifle so you could go out hunting with him and Charles. Hosea and Karen were big fans of yours; or, more specifically, your skills as a pickpocket while they distracted a mark.

Arthur didn’t like you assisting like this though; him and Dutch frequently argued about it. You constantly asked him to take you on other jobs, but he always said no, always a different excuse. You didn’t really understand why Arthur was so protective; you weren’t his kid. It irritated you, but you probably owed Arthur your life, so most of the time you kept your mouth shut.

You were bored, re-wrapping the handle of your knife by the fire one evening when you overheard Arthur and Javier talking.

“I’ve got a good tip, Arthur. This old man has got a stash of cash hidden in his house, not far from here. We go now, in the dark, we can be in and out without anyone seeing, easy.”

“Sounds good Javier, let’s get goin’.”

“Arthur, I want to go.” You’d barely thought the words before they were out of your mouth.

“Huh. Come on (Y/N), you know that ain’t gonna happen.”

“Please Arthur! It’s not like a bank job or something, it’s sneaking, you know I’m good at that!” you said as you stood up.

“(Y/N), NO. This ain’t good for a kid. I ain’t risking it.” Arthur was more forceful this time and pushed you back down into your seat before walking off towards his tent.

You then did something you hadn’t done since your parents died; appealed to a higher authority. It used to be your mum; now, it was Dutch.

“Dutch, I want to go on the job with Javier and Arthur. Please can I go?”

Dutch chuckled. “Sure child, I’ve been wondering when you’d finally ask to go. Arthur said you felt you weren’t ready.”

Urgh. Arthur. So all that stuff about ‘Dutch says no’ was rubbish then.

“I am ready Dutch, I’ll make you proud.”

“Well you better hurry up then, before they leave!” Grinning, you ran to your tent and grabbed your things, before jogging over to Arthur and Javier.

“Arthur, Dutch says I’m to come.” Arthur sighed, looking over at Dutch, who nodded. He didn’t have the time to argue.

“Fine. Get on the damn horse then”.

The journey didn’t take long, and soon you were hitching the horses in the trees just outside the perimeter of the homestead. The three of you crept into the small barn next to the house.

“(Y/N), you stay in the barn and keep watch. You see anyone movin’, you whistle like Charles taught you. You got that?”

“But Arthur!”

“No buts, I ain’t in the mood. You shouldn’t be here, and I ain’t puttin’ you in harms way. I’ve lost a kid before, I ain’t losing you too.” This surprised you; you hadn’t heard Arthur mention any other kid apart from Jack, you weren’t sure who he meant.

“Javier, you check the other barn, I’ll take the house, we’ll meet back here.” You’d already pushed your luck being here, and you didn’t want to annoy Arthur further, so you reluctantly agreed.

“Fine.” As Arthur and Javier crept towards the house, you climbed the ladder into the small loft in the barn. At least you were away from the camp, and maybe, just maybe, Arthur may let you come on another job if you behaved.  

You waited for what felt like ages before you saw Arthur running quietly, keeping low, back towards the barn. From your vantage point in the loft, you didn’t see the man with the shotgun creeping up the side of the barn. Neither did Arthur.

“You thieving bastard.” Arthur had his hands up as the man backed him slowly into the barn.

“Hey, mister, I ain’t thieving, I’m with the Sherriff, he’d heard of some cattle rustlin’ up here and he told me to check it out.” The ease of Arthur’s lie impressed you; he was always treated just as Dutch’s enforcer, but sometimes he sounded more like Hosea. 

Panicking, you desperately looked around for anything you could use to help, maybe create a distraction. The homeowner was standing almost directly under the ladder now. Your frantic gaze settled on the small hay bale at the edge of the loft. As quietly as you could you crept over to it, then pushed with all your might.

“Yer a dirty liar mister. I’m going to shoot you right here, and let the Sheriffs deal with ya in the…..”

His sentence was caught short as the haybale slammed into his head, knocking him out. The haybale fell forwards, knocking Arthur onto his back.

“You alright?” you called down to Arthur.

Staying exactly where he’d fallen, Arthur sighed, then groaned a reply. 

“Sure. Thank you.”

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x teen reader #arthur morgan fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #fanfic #my work #request #rdr2 story

[crimsonblackrose]

When looking up things to do I thought going to a museum full of art and old books might be fun so I took the train and then a bus to the National Palace Museum. The bus drop off is a short walk from the entrance for groups, since the public bus stop is also near where tour buses drop off. The first floor is where these bus groups check-in and is also where the gift shop is. However for people or families you’ll want to go up a floor to the regular check-in. Prices are 350 NT$ (US$11.33) per adult. There are several discounts available for international students with ISIC cards, groups or kids.

Before going through security you need to remove any food or drinks from your bag. There’s a section of coin lockers for you to store your things, but small purses or bags are fine. But if you have any water bottles or food they want you to write your name on a paper, tape it to the bottle or container and leave it in the room with everything else, then when you’re ready to leave you can go back and get it.

The museum is three floors and I started on the top floor. I figured it’d be easiest to work my way down. The first part I went to was “Art in Quest of Heaven and Truth” which included jade and some other precious stones.

I learned, in this section, that there are two different types of jade. They’re called jadeite and nephrite. Between the two nephrite is more common and can be found in more places around the world while there are far less places that you can find jadeite. Usually when I think of jade I think of green gemstones, but in reality nephrite can be white, yellow or red as well as different shades of green. Jadeite can be lavender or black as well as green, yellow or white. Jadeite is dense and hard while nephrite is tougher. It was really an interesting thing to learn that these two things made up what we call jade.

But after awhile I got bored of looking at precious jewels and jade. The next section I visited was about incense. I really expected the “Scents of Heaven” to be interactive with locations where you could smell the different scents of wood and was quickly disappointed.

The exhibit was more about Agarwood and the tools and containers for incense. Agarwood comes from a type of aquilaria tree and their resin which covers the wood and is used to make incense.

While there were some things about tools for incense as well as various containers there were also things made out of agarwood, including sculptures, carvings and jewelry.

After leaving the agarwood I visited a section with a long line that tour groups tended to hover around. It turned out to be one of the most famous things on display.

The jadeite cabbage is a beautiful carved piece of jadeite that looks like a head of cabbage and also has some bugs and creatures intricately hidden among the leaves. It was my favorite piece of jade (jadeite/nephrite) that I saw at the museum.  I also soon found a nice break from jade and jewels to find a section on illusion and art of optical illusions. It was a bit small but fun.

There were a lot of sections of historical pieces.

On the second floor there was a section on “The Phenomenon of Yixing Ware”

Which essentially was a bunch of interesting looking tea pots. In Yixing County there is a lot of clay that gets used to make these pots and ceramics.

The second floor also held my favorite exhibit which was a collaboration with the local zoos and aquarium. It was for kids but also one that clearly everyone had a lot of fun putting together.

Essentially they had gone through their archives and found their best examples of animals among the art they had and compared the paintings with what the animals actually look like. This included the 12 Chinese Zodiac (+the cat).

And then they had sections of just the animals and information about the animals or the paintings. They also included information about conservation and how we can help these animals or learn more about the dangers they’re facing.

But my favorite paintings included a section where they discussed how historically artists painted animals. It took a lot longer to get around then it does now. Before airplanes and cameras were invented artists had a couple options when someone commissioned them to draw an animal. They either needed to go to where those animals could be found and study them as much as they could. This included days of hiding in the wilderness with paper and trying to commit everything about the animal down. (A great example of this is the beautiful tiger painting I included in the section about the zodiac). But sometimes the artist couldn’t go that far away and would have to instead listen to stories about what those animals look like and use their imagination to draw the animal. And thus you end up with this lovely beast.

It’s a lion. I love it. I love its big floppy dog like ears and concerned face. But it only rivals my love for this mildly accurate but super grumpy toad. The toad was from a much bigger painting but was a close up, and is probably one of my favorite pieces.

After learning about animals and history and art and conservation the section changed to the aquarium’s collaboration which included a ton of really gorgeous pieces.

I really loved this section for kids. It was truly my favorite part of the museum and I’m kinda bummed it was so short lived. It was just up for the summer. I hope they continue to have fun kid content like this. Afterwards I went down to the first floor which included the exhibit: “Compassion and Wisdom: Religious Sculptural Arts”.

And the exhibit I was most excited for: “Rare books and historical documents gallery”.

I guess I’m not sure what I was expecting. I think I was expecting a more in-depth deep dive to why these books are considered rare and a bit about their contents. But a lot of it is government agency documents and books. Which are beyond my scope of understanding on multiple levels. So I mostly just studied the way they were bound and housed.

You also couldn’t take pictures of a lot of them.

I spent most of my day at the museum. A lot of time wandering around looking at things. It was a good way to escape the heat outside. If you get thirsty, while there is no water allowed, there are water fountains on every floor and you can drink there, you cannot carry the water cups with you though, you can only drink in those designated areas.

When I was done I picked up my water bottle from the lockers and then tried to find my way to the restaurant. There’s a cafe in the museum but I wanted lunch.

I ended up going the wrong way. I went down the shaded tree path which led me down into the open courtyard. Instead, I should’ve just walked towards the parking lot and headed in the direction of the library.

I was looking for the restaurant/cafe called Fu-ch’un-chü. The entrance in down the hill behind this sign.

The entrance is here.  First when you enter pick your seat, look over the menu and then when you’re ready go back to the front and put in your order and pay. Then it’ll be brought out to you.

I ordered beef noodle soup which a friend was very adamant I have while I was in Taiwan. It was 250NT$.

I also ordered their caramel milk tea iced which was 120 NT$ and came with some crackers. All the caramel flavor seemed to be drizzled on top and not actually through the entire drink which I was disappointed in.

After sitting and eating for a bit I went back to the main museum building, looked around the gift shop then waited for the bus to go back to the train station. Please note that the stop to get off at drops you off a couple blocks away from the station.

The National Palace Museum Taipei When looking up things to do I thought going to a museum full of art and old books might be fun so I took the train and then a bus to the National Palace Museum.

#art #art exhibits #art museums #beef noodle soup #cafes #Fu-ch&039;un-chü #museums #Taipei #Taiwan #the national palace museum #the national palace museum taipei #travel

[secretgamergirl]

RPG Campaign Setting Thoughts - The Origins of Magic

Previous entries in this series of posts:

The Planes

Alignment, Death, and Outsiders

The Actual, You Know, Setting

Today’s topic is something I think should really be the biggest preoccupation of any RPG campaign setting where it’s a concern, but one that most seem to gloss right over- Where the hell did all these spell casters come from? While I’m at it, I have officially decided that if I get a book out for all this, I’m going to include 4 PC classes (in addition to compatibility with all the existing options out there), covering the basics of Standard Party Composition and filling in some setting gaps here. Swashbuckler for a fighter type (never been happy with Paizo’s take on finesse-y fighters, might call it something else), single-school-focus wizards (gonna have to bust out the thesaurus for an unused name), divine casters who allow themselves to be possessed by agents of their deity (will likely come out like some kinda variant druid as a result), and something for the general rogue/bard 4th slot that’s a bit different that I’m tentatively calling The Party Mom Class.

Anyway, on with the magic origins. As I’ve already largely established, I think, most deities don’t really hold any direct sway over the prime material plane, and physical manifestation type stuff isn’t a thing. Divine casters of course open the door for all kinds of stuff, but you need to learn how to pray to your deity first, so as kind of a weird quirk I guess, every tradition of divine casters here is inherently rooted in arcane casters working out the whole astral projection thing, or people coming back from the dead having learned some things out there. The core deity list is something I’d really like to get some creative input on from practitioners of actual pantheistic religions, but I definitely want to get into the first follower of each once I get to listing them out, and how they came to be such.

So OK. Clerics come after wizards, but with wizards, there’s two things to worry about. They need some existing magic in the world to study, and they need a real good in-world reason to draw sharp divisions between different schools of magic. Well, OK NEED is a strong word. You could pretty much just merge everything together with no effect beyond it being a lot easier to look up spells by level and drop the whole school thing with little to no consequence, but I LIKE schools, so I need to rationalize them.

So my thinking is, every school of magic originally started as literally a different school, isolated from the others in a different part of the world, coming at the whole “magic” thing from a different angle. And this of course all only really applies to STUDIED magic. The whole concept of the prime material plane being painted with the inner planes used as a palette, coupled with the inner planes being inhabited just inherently means you’re going to have elementals and genies around from the beginning of time, along with dragons. And while I am writing out the whole concept of half-orcs and half-elves, all bets are off for people like ifrits and oreads and tieflings, so sorcerers are also going to be in play well before wizards.

So really, let me just put together a rough timeline on all things magic here:

Deities have just always been out there, with various outsiders forming as deaths happen and so on.

Elementals and anything else from the inner planes, while rare, have always been hanging out on the prime material, with half-mortal children following as soon as other creatures hit the table, really.

Dragons were probably one of the first types of creature to be created in the world, linnorms especially. And again, there’s some innate magic to them plus plenty of capacity for half-dragon children.

The first spellcasting class to really come about in the world though is going to be oracles. Oracles just happen after all. Mysterious circumstances of birth, ties to the great mysterious magic of the wold, no real teachers or questing or heritage involved. They’re rare though.

Sorcerers are next to hit the scene, because hey, after a few generations those half-genies and half-dragons are going to dilute down to bloodlines. Bloodragers come in at the same time, two sides of the same coin and I see it.

I’d go one further too and say all of the above predate even the basics of civilization. Which you do need at least a bit of to really get the ball rolling on the rest of the classes.

Druids come in next. A long secretive tradition of just trying to study and worship the natural world around them without bringing in any expectations, secretive order though, so they keep what they know to themselves. The more learned druids are probably going to work out some notion that there’s an afterlife thanks to reincarnate being a spell and all, but I don’t really see any other religious beliefs splintering off there. Just a weird thing to not think too hard about while you get used to being a dwarf woman or a boar or something

The first proper schools of magic I see springing up as people really start to settle down and invent systems of writing and social structures allowing for dedicated scholars are Evocation and Transmutation. Likely founded close enough together in terms of the actual date, but far enough away that nobody can really conclusively sort out the various calendars or lack thereof and be certain which came first. You’ve got raw elemental forces clearly evident as something magical because, again, elementals on the prime material plane are absolutely a thing, someone’s going to try to pin down how they work. Elves are out there routinely having their Doctor Who regenerations, along with the odd druid wildshaping, so, changing things around is equally likely to be stumbled across.

Alchemy begins as a tradition sometime after these, largely born out of a movement of skeptics seeing some of these early evokers and transmuters, trying to recreate what they do, maybe swiping some glances at spellbooks. Potions and recipes for them inherently spread around the world a bit faster than a bunch of nerds filling libraries in budding schools, too.

Next up, Necromancy. If humanity as a whole has people who can manipulate the elements, and make changes to people’s bodies out there, someone’s going to get it into their head to go all Full Metal Alchemist and work out exactly what’s so different about a living creature than a rock or something, and start some pretty depraved experimentation. Probably really focused on poisons and diseases at first, eventually getting some handle on the whole notion of souls and alternate forces that can animate a body, and eventually working up to the real serious game changer that is astral projection, and getting a handle on the whole notion of the outer planes.

One of the first proper divine casters is going to come along real shortly thereafter when some necromancer makes a new friend out there... and probably one of the nastier ones too. Like, when I have a pantheon nailed down and need to have a real proper “this is just the WORST deity who needs to seriously be fought against, probably the first to make contact with humanity.

So now we have this divine class I’m working on, followed shortly by clerics. And evil outsiders possessing people and corpses and generally making things less than great, along with giving the whole school of necromancy kind of a bad name for opening that up.

Tieflings naturally follow, and some more bloodlines of course.

Enchantment is the next school to be founded, because we have all these outsiders around now to give examples of how charms and profane gifts and such work to use as a model.

Illusion follows, kind of a parallel development, again, there’s a lot to learn from studying evil outsiders.

At this point in the history of the world, magic is going to have a pretty bad reputation in general, but hey, fight fire with fire, right?

Next out the gate though is bards and skalds. There’s 5 schools of magic out there in the world, so naturally you’re going to have people trying to pay them all a visit, learn a few handy tricks, pick up a lot of other esoteric knowledge as they go, and tell a good story. This also helps really spread the whole magic notion to any parts of the world who haven’t been paying it much attention.

So, the other schools are going to all spring up in bursts, as new eyes get on the whole magic concept. Abjuration to try and avoid dealing with the dangers of other forms of magic (and consequently, one with very few pure practitioners, nice to know at least a few other spells to know how to counter them). Conjuration largely as a fusion of the theories behind Necromancer and Evocation to see what can be pulled out of these other planes without the nastier baggage. Divination largely as a means of working out what’s up out there, and Psychic magic as a sort of alternate take on the whole thing, building up inner strength against these things, tied to monks culturally.

Other religious practices and paths to power are going to spring up along the way, fuzzier to pin down what crops out when without a full pantheon nailed down or major nations of the world. Shamans are probably about as old as druids, similar mindset involved. Witches probably crop up shortly after learning about some of the more powerful outsiders, with experimentation on how to get in touch with such without all the possession and astral projection and so on, and informed by some of the more naturalistic magic practices.

And while I do like the concept of the world’s first interaction with divine powers being on the grimdark side, I would think the rest of the pantheon would get in touch with people pretty soon after. Plenty of other necromancers to astrally project, learn what else is out there, make contact with other deities and outsiders. Divination is another gateway. Religious traditions that don’t involve spell-granting deities are going to precede all of this, and some practicioners on learning about this class I’m creating are probably going to try going receptive on blind faith, getting in touch with outsiders with similar sensibilities.

Then as we get closer to the present day of course, the trade in magic bards got started is going to get books on at least the basics propagating all over the world beyond these few founding schools so regular ol’ wizards with a full range of spells are now the most common by far, magi pick up enough to pair with swords. Arcanists to really go all turbo-nerd and try to break down theoretical fundamentals underpinning everything. Churches get big and militant enough for paladins, inquisitors, war priests. Anything I’m forgetting here?

Oh, and ironically enough, the creator god I’m calling Brin as a placeholder, despite having the most obvious visible impact on the world from the dawn of time is one of the last to really get a formal church. They don’t need mortal agents to influence things, they don’t have any reason to care what happens with anyone’s souls, and they aren’t based out in the outer planes, Really they’re a bit like Paizo’s Groetus in terms of ”why would anyone pick you to formally worship?”

#game design #worldbuilding #rpg campaign setting #d&d

[eldritchsurveys]

519.

do you sing in the shower? >> I sure do. do you think money makes people happy? >> I think knowing that your basic needs are cared for contributes greatly to overall well-being. I also think being able to buy a bunch of cool shit that you like can make you feel happy. So, yes, money can make people happy. what’s your relationship status? >> Married in outworld, bonded in inworld. what time is it? >> 7.28p CDT. what emotion are you feeling right now? >> I’m not feeling any emotion right now. I feel pretty good, I guess.

do you have netflix? >> Yes. have you ever traveled outside your home country? >> No. coffee or tea? >> Tea. shower or bath? >> Shower. what’s your favorite pizza topping? >> Usually I get a veggie pizza, because that has the most toppings I enjoy. Pepperoni can be good too (especially if the pepperoni is crispy). what’s something that makes you happy? >> Watching the Addams Family (either the show or the movie). do you have siblings or are you an only child? >> I was raised like an only child, since all my half-siblings were a couple of decades older and therefore didn’t live at home. what’s your favorite instrument? >> The pipe organ is cool. what’s your favorite food? >> I’m not even going to try with this one. what is something you are always losing? >> The ability to give a fuck. are you good at spelling? >> I am. what is one goal you have? >> I haven’t made any lately. did you get a flu shot this year? >> Yes. what’s your favorite Disney movie? >> Lilo & Stitch. are you bored? >> Not right now. what are you listening to? >> Nothing, but the television is on. I’m doing this during commercials, because I hate commercials. what’s your favorite foreign language? >> --- what do you do when you can’t sleep? >> Read, usually. Or browse Reddit. do you like cats or dogs better? >> Dogs, generally. do you have any piercings? >> Septum and ears. what’s your favorite vegetable? >> Not going to try with this one, either. do you eat meat? >> Yes. what’s the best concert you’ve ever been to? >> I’ve been to a lot of amazing shows. what’s your favorite season? >> Autumn and spring. do you still write letters? >> No. what would make you really happy right now? >> I don’t know. what’s your favorite song? >> Turbo Killer by Carpenter Brut is one. are you good at giving advice? >> It’d depend on what I’m being asked for advice about. what’s your favorite hobby? >> I don’t know if I have any hobbies. do you prefer to talk or text? >> Text. what’s your favorite pair of shoes? >> --- how often do you read? (as in books) >> Rather often. Most days a week, I’d say. do you have any pets? >> I personally do not. what’s your favorite day of the week? >> Wednesday. are you in college? >> No. are you/have you ever been in a long distance relationship? >> I have been in them. how do you typically listen to music? >> Through Spotify. do you like going to the beach? >> Yes. did you make any new year’s resolutions? >> No. how old are you? >> 32. do you know anyone who is blind? >> Not fully. who is someone you admire? >> --- do you have a good singing voice? >> It does the job. are your nails painted? >> Yeah. are you an introvert or an extrovert? >> I don’t know, none of that shit really matters to me. what are you having/had for dinner tonight? >> We had dinner at Pere Antoine’s in the Quarter. I had a burger -- well, half of one, because I wanted to save room for pecan pie, lol. do you ever write in a journal? >> Yeah. if you could time travel when/where would you go? >> Meh. what’s your favorite animal? >> Capybaras are cool. what’s your favorite kind of cereal? >> I don’t eat cereal. how was your day? >> It was great. do you ever listen to classical music? >> Sure. what inspires you? >> I don’t know. I don’t ever recall thinking “I feel inspired right now”, so I might not be able to recognise the feeling. do you have a hard time making decisions? >> Not usually. how many pillows do you sleep with? >> Two. how many hours of sleep do you need? >> Between six and eight usually does the trick. do you have big or small feet? >> On the small side. what’s the weather like where you are? >> It was sunny and mild today. It’s chilly now because it’s nighttime (still not as chilly as it is in Grand Rapids, though). what’s the most interesting thing you can see out the window? >> I can’t see anything out of the windows down here on the ground floor of the vacation house, because they’re all frosted for some reason. does/did your high school have a school song? >> I don’t remember. what month is your birthday in? >> May. what’s your dream job? >> --- are you excited for summer? >> I mean, autumn just started, so the winter ennui hasn’t set in. Ask me again in 3 months. what foreign country would you want to live in for 6 months? >> What foreign country wouldn’t I want to live in for six months? did you have to go to school today? >> No, because I don’t go to school period. win a million $$ or never have to pay for anything again? >> Hmm. do you throw coins into fountains? >> No. do you have a trampoline? >> No. what’s your favorite song lyric? >> --- what did you eat the last time you went to the movies? >> I didn’t eat anything. I drank a french toast stout I’d sneaked in, lol. do you ever measure time in songs? >> Yeah, I do that a lot. do you know how to play chess? >> I don’t even know how the pieces work. what’s your favorite game? (any type) >> I play too many games to have a favourite. do you enjoy traveling? >> Yeah. The process of travelling can be obnoxious and boring, but I like going to different places. do you tend to wait til the last minute? >> It’s not a tendency of mine, no. have you ever owned a goldfish? >> No. how do you relieve stress? >> Talk to Can Calah, cuddle with King Crimson, lay under my weighted blanket and listen to music and play a phone game, watch a show or movie, that sort of thing. without looking it up, guess the outside temperature? >> I’m going to say low sixties. now look it up - how close were you? >> 69*F, so I was a little off. do you prefer digital or analog clocks/watches? >> As long as I can read it, I don’t care. do you prefer to shop in stores or online? >> I prefer to shop in stores when it comes to clothing, but I don’t care much when it comes to other things. do you enjoy coloring? >> Yeah, I do. do you like to dance? >> Yeah. have you ever owned a horse? >> No. do you take selfies? >> I rarely take them nowadays. do you ever listen to music in languages besides English? >> I sure do. have you ever cried from listening to a song? >> Yeah. what’s your favorite song from a movie? >> Death is the Road to Awe by Clint Mansell for The Fountain is one. do you prefer headphones or earbuds? >> Headphones. who was your favorite music artist when you were 10? >> I have no idea. when was the last time you had to go to the dentist? >> It’s been a couple of years. I do need to go again, but I have to wait until I get some insurance. can you speak Spanish? >> Not fluently. what’s the last thing you watched on youtube? >> I don’t remember. now what time is it? >> 8.20p CDT (I’m only doing this during commercials, like I said, so it’s taking me a while lol). do you ever watch musicals? >> Yeah, I like them. do you know anyone who’s a twin? >> No. do you ever get carsick? >> No. what’s your opinion on wolves? >> I love wolves, they’re the best. when you’re sad do you prefer sad music or happy music? >> I prefer music that’s familiar, is all. The mood of the music itself doesn’t matter. do you like seafood? >> Yes indeed. do you enjoy going to the zoo? >> Yes. are there any celebrities from your hometown? >> It’s highly likely, but I don’t know who. do you shower in the morning or at night? >> In the morning. do you prefer to work alone or in a group? >> I guess it depends on the activity and whether I have a good group or not. do you go to the gym alone or with a friend? >> --- do you like coconut? >> I do. who is someone you’re jealous of? >> --- what’s your favorite place to go out for breakfast? >> --- do you still have your christmas tree up? >> No. do you have a favorite type of bird? >> Corvids, definitely. have you ever had an overnight flight anywhere? >> No. don’t you hate it when you hear a song that’s familiar but you can’t remember what it is/how you know it? >> Yeah, that’s so aggravating. if you use them, tell me 5 of your recently used emojis >> --- do you know anyone that plays the violin? >> Not that I know of. how much money is in your wallet right now? >> The only cash I have is a $20. anything you’re looking forward to tomorrow? >> I have no idea what we’re doing tomorrow, but I’m sure it’ll be a good time. have you ever auditioned for anything? >> No. did you have a webkinz when you were younger? >> No. how would you describe your aesthetic? >> Lazy/broke goth metalhead. have you ever been told you look like a celebrity? >> Yeah. when was the last time you rode a bus? >> Last week. if you saw $50 on the ground what would you do? >> Take it. do you know how to play any unusual instruments? >> No. are you an early bird or a night owl? >> I don’t think I’m either, really. have you ever had trouble understanding someone because of an accent? >> Yeah. do you ever go to Massachusetts? >> No. do you personally know anyone who is transgender? >> I know quite a few people who are transgender, including myself. what was the most memorable rainbow you’ve ever seen? (if any) >> I haven’t seen any that were particularly special. do you remember anything from when you were 5 or younger? >> Vaguely. do you need to do laundry? >> Yeah. do you know anyone (including yourself) who actually enjoys math? >> I’m pretty sure I know someone who enjoys maths. I think it’s pretty cool, I guess. do you have a favorite poem? >> Ozymandias is one. if you were from somewhere else, would you visit your town on vacation? >> There is literally no reason I’d want to visit Grand Rapids. I don’t understand how it has tourism at all. where would you spend $100 if you had to spend it all in one store? >> Probably Meijer or another big-box department store like that. Or maybe World Market. Or Horrock’s! would you rather go to Japan or Greece? >> Either would do fine. now what song are you listening to? >> --- what are you wearing right now? >> Lounge pants with aliens on them and a Dark Tower t-shirt. any fun plans for the weekend? >> This coming Saturday is the day we return home, and Sunday we’ll probably just veg out at home and recuperate a bit. It will definitely be fun to be back in my own room again -- oh, and I will probably buy The Outer Worlds and start playing that, so that will definitely be fun.

#surveys #survey #random survey