#& he would literally rather die than accidentally patronize me so i trust him

[infernalhomo]

i got called both an "obvious junkrat main" and a "cute loud gremlin" in that order this past tuesday evening by my beloved friends and i'm unsure how to feel about this

[intelligentdumbass]

(Okay I am lost, I’ve been struggling with how to write this thing, but at least this feels somewhat cohesive? Also that at least there’s an actual Herm and Per interaction now. I dunno when I’m gonna come back to this and try to continue but here it is for now)

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

Being a bastard child of the king of the gods always resulted in something going wrong in your life. His kids always managed to get themselves into trouble one way or another, perhaps a mix of unfortunate circumstances and some traits they inherited from their father. That’s why Zeus often kept a close eye on them, even if Hera didn’t seem to be meddling with anything, and he was far from the only one to give them a helping hand.

This time, Apollo was one of the first to hear of it as, while said event was happening, he still had his thoughts interlaced with those of his father’s.

“Okay here’s the thing.” The blonde was doing what he always did in times like these, gossiping with two of his favorite half-siblings.  “I was about to abort, but before I even managed to disconnect, it was already over?? He just descended in a golden shower and then poof! He was gone! He didn’t shapeshift into a human form or anything.”

Hermes raised an eyebrow. “But she still got pregnant?”

“She still got pregnant! I have no idea how-” “how do you even get plea-”

Athena quickly interrupted. “Says the one that had an incident with the Thriae-”

The messenger frowned. “Please don’t remind me-”

Apollo snickered. “Buzz buzz-”

“Moving on, who was it this time? You still haven’t mentioned a name.”

“I-” “Uh… I forgot?”

“You, the god of memory, forgot??”

“I suppose it hadn’t properly registered in my head? I was actually kind of… distracted by something else when that happened.”

“And by something, you mean someone?”

The archer faintly flushed. “That’s a little assumptive.”

“And based on your reaction, I assume it was probably true.”

“To be fair,” The goddess interjected. “You aren’t any better.”

“I’m not talking about being horny. Actually, it could apply to you too Pal!”

“Excuse me?”

“Even if it’s just platonically, you both tend to get really infatuated with certain mortals. Hell, half of the arguments between you two are just” He starts mimicking their voices. “‘Hah! Did you see that? What a cunning lil shit!’ and then the other going ‘Well clearly you haven’t seen what insert other mortal did!’ It’s either that or about whose patron city is the best.”

The goddess rolled her eyes. “You exaggerate.”

Apollo thought about it. “Ehhhhhh...”

“Aw, no need to be shy! I, for one, think it’s sort of endearing!” But then Hermes noticed his brother was… grinning. “What’s with that look?”

“Oh, nothing I can’t confirm. You know how vague my prophecy powers are.”

…

“So that’s him, huh?” Hermes asked, atop one of Olympus’ many balconies, gazing down into the earth. Athena nodded, standing beside him.

It had been several years since that little conversation with his half-siblings.

The messenger narrowed his eyes. “I guess he is cute.”

His sister sighed, causing the god to laugh.

When they jumped off the ledge, their landing nearly gave poor Perseus a heart attack. He hastily tried to give them the impression that he totally had his shit together. You know, formally greeting them like he was not at all resisting the urge to stare.

It fooled no one. Though, the god thought it was adorable how respectful the demigod tried to be with those tiny glances.  

Athena internally groaned. She was starting to have flashbacks to some of the other errands of helping mortals not die, specifically the ones with Apollo.

“Look, you two can kiss later.” Her voice was stern, an attempt to tell Hermes to keep it professional. “First, let’s get this fetch quest over with.”

“Of course.” He had more than enough trust in his natural looks; still, he spared no pains to smooth his hair and fix his robes. “You see Perseus; you might have to resort to some rather sneaky and underhanded tactics if you want to survive.”

“My lord, I don’t even know where Medusa is.”

“And that’s where we come in!” He wraps an arm around the mortal’s shoulders.

“But,” Athena added. “We’re only here to help, not hold your hand and do it for you.”

Before the two immortals started their exposition dump, however, Perseus felt the need to point something out. There was a slight fear that the god might throw him into the ocean, but he was being fairly casual with him so… fuck it.

“You know, you’re a lot more… breathtaking than I thought you’d be.”

“Aw, that’s-”

“And also a lot shorter than I imagined you to be.”

It was then that Athena realized, now that the two men were standing side by side, Perseus was decently tall for a human. He’s not nearly as tall as her, yet still tall enough for Hermes to be around a few centimeters shorter than him.

“What’s with that look? If anything, I think it makes you look even cuter!” The mortal patted the god’s head.

“Hahah… you’re lucky you’re even cuter, and that father wants you back alive.” Hermes smiled, accompanied by one of his least effective death glares, on account of the mild blush. The wings on his head shrunk, fluttering.

Meanwhile Perseus was absolutely beaming, not far from the famous shit-eating grin of the messenger himself. The god would’ve punched it off his face if it weren’t for the fact that he might accidentally break something.

Hermes cleared his throat. “ANYWAY, let’s get back on topic, shall we?”

Athena suppressed the urge of continuing to taunt him. “Yes, the sooner the better; preferably before Hera notices anything.”

“Hera?” The demigod’s smile twitched.

The messenger forced a laugh. “It’s best if you don’t think about it. Don’t worry; Apollo and Persephone are top tier distractions and conversation starters.”

Concept wise, the plan was simple enough.

The execution, on the other hand…

“Oh shi-” “You okay?!” Hermes rushed over to the mortal that accidentally flung himself against a tree, falling back-first onto the ground.

Athena winced. “Maybe lending a spare pair of your sandals isn’t-”

“I’m fine!” Perseus sat up, looking determined. “I swear I just need a few more tries to get used to it!”

“Preferably before you end up cracking a few ribs.” The god nervously chucked, flicking some dirt off the demigod’s face. “Let’s try again, slowly.”

He helped him up, a firm grasp on both of Perseus’ hands to prevent him from running himself into the ground.

Surprisingly, the mortal managed to hover some inches over the ground, the messenger matching his pace. Alas, he got too enthusiastic during his small victory and the wings suddenly flew upwards, causing him to panic. Fortunately, Hermes never lost his grip and got dragged up along with him. By the time they got back down, the demigod may or may not have been hugging the god for dear life.

“You okay there bud?” The messenger giggled.

“That… was amazing!” Perseus laughed, delightedly terrified. “Though uh, don’t you think it’d be much more convenient if you just carried me there?”

“What are you, nine?”

Athena snickered. “Unless that’s what you want the poets to sing about?”

“Why not?” Perseus grinned. “I mean, getting personally carried by one of the Olympians? What an honor! Everyone else would be so jealous.”

You see, the word ‘amused’ might’ve not been sufficient enough to describe Hermes’ feelings about the demigod’s boldness, and his half-sister was well aware of this. Even from the god’s voice alone, she could literally hear him smiling. It was the sort of behavior that wasn’t too far off from how he’d act around Apollo or Persephone.

It was this thought that gave her an idea on how to avoid Hera’s wrath.

“Hermes, just keep on practicing with him.” Athena said, starting to walk away. “I’m going to get some of the other items Perseus needs.”

And with that, she was gone.

Her plan involved giving them a lot of time alone.

[oohh-honey-honey]

All’s well that ends well- Chapter One: In which Eden has no plans, nor ever will

Summary: “Without a ruler,” Eden had once said, “The word turns to anarchy.” What he failed to mention, is what happens if the rulers are the cause. 

Ao3

The story in which everyone dies, a revolution fails, and it all turns out okay. 

Ships: Eventual roceit, background moxiety

Chapter warnings: Mentions of being eaten alive, mentions of murder, general fear of the king, falling off high structures, mention of shooting someone, anger at the main character, accidental misgendering, a character is picked up without consent but he’s alright with it

Word Count: 2076

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@wingedsoulmatedreamer

~~

They all die in the end- though we cant say if it was their true demise. Not by sword fights, hungry land whales, the unfortunate number of tall structures people seem to fall off of, or the tyrant king's guards. No, all in this story are united and destroyed by one factor alone, and nothing else; The idiocy of Eden Viper Anwir. This is, of course, how Eden survives it all.

Many scholars debate exactly when people began using bovine as a somewhat more polite synonym for stupid, though it's widely agreed that it was within the years of Eden Viper Anwir's life. Before that, they might have used dense, simple minded, dull, but it was when the shepherds son fell out his window that the population really began to relate those of small minds to cattle. Ironic, considering Eden did fall into a heard of cattle. Or, perhaps, where cattle had been. A truer statement would be he fell into a herd of cattle dropping. This was not recorded, though the way a passerby cackled and shouted, "Look at that idiot! Bovine and dumb, 'e must be!" was (It was one of the most reference accounts  in determining the time frame of the word). To which they received a rather rude gesture from Eden. He stood, brushing off the manure and looking cruelly up to the window (that seemed to stare just as cruelly back) at which he had just fallen out of. Eden was acutely aware he could have used the door of his house, though that small thought was diminished as he remembered his father working at his desk, who would surely have seen him leaving had he not gone out the window. 

Of course next time he might want a better way to get back in. Future-Eden would likely love to shoot Past-Eden for the trouble. Although guns did not exist yet, nor did Future-Eden. (Scholars often reported the invention of guns was in the 10th century in China, although it had actually been in the lost city of Atlantis roughly ten years prior. However, it was exactly then which the city sank and thus their invention was never brought to light.)

The bar was a hole-in-the wall place in every sense of the word, to the point that the only way to enter is was to quite literally climb through a hole in where the old food cellar had once been. It still would be a cellar, had the owners not been taken and murdered by the king. No one had taken the offer to buy it, so the building was covered and ignored until Patton Arrows had found it. Soon enough, it became a safe haven for anyone in need. The homeless, the cursed, fugitives of the crown. It was a nice spot, if you knew where to look. Not many did. 

All the patrons glanced over warily as Eden entered. There was always a worry of the kings guard finding the bar. There was a collective sigh as they all returned to what they had been doing. Or, should I say, all but one. A person made of fire who stormed over, lighting at their feet as they faced Eden, "You bastard!" "Lovely to see you, too, Virgil," Eden dried off his coat, hanging it on the back of an unoccupied chair. He stepped over to the counter and jumped to the other side. Grabbing a bottle and leaving a few coins, he turned back to the fuming Virgil. 

"You bovine, unbearable, bastard!" Perhaps a bit more than fuming, "Where were you the past four nights? We've been worried sick!"

"I see you've found a thesaurus," Eden took a sip from the bottle, savoring the bitter taste for a moment. The person across from him placed their head into their hands. There was no time to question it before arms were picking Eden up in a hug,

"Eden! We've missed you!" Patton's joyful voice boomed from behind. The hug squeezed him tighter than seemed altogether necessary, sending him into a coughing fit, 

"Binder, Patton, let go" Eden sputtered out. He was quickly dropped by Patton, who stepped back meekly, 

"Oop! Sorry, kiddo! Forgot about that little thing," He still smiled just as bright, helping Eden to his feet. Patton 'tsk'ed at the bottle Eden had been holding, swiping it away from him before he could grab it again. Eden hissed and grabbed for it to no avail. Patton towered over him, anyway. 

Patton poured a glass for himself and Eden and got water for Virgil, who didn't drink despite spending the better part of their days in a bar. He sat back onto a stool. Eden's eyes flickered with curiosity,

"How do you both feel about murder?"

Virgil quirked an eyebrow, "As in, would we like to commit it or die from it?" they paused, "Yes to both, why?"

"No!" Patton grabbed Virgil reflexively, "If you die, I will, too."

"If?"

"Yes."

Eden coughed to bring back their attention, "I mean to kill the king,"

The group all stopped. Virgil and Patton glanced between each other. Eden's eyebrows twitched, curious to their hesitance.

"You don't think we should? He's been less a monarch and more a tyrant over this land for--"

"Yeah, yeah, save your lecture. I agree just... Do you have a plan?" Virgil questioned,"

"Well I--"

"Any means to get into the castle?"

"Maybe I-"

"Anyone else in on this?"

"That's exactly it!" Eden spoke through clenched teeth. "I need your help! Come on, Patton?"

The bartender stepped back, "Well, I- uh... Y'know, I think it's a good idea!" He curled into himself, "But I think it's just that: an idea."

The world froze for Eden. He glanced with ice in his veins to the two in front of him,

"You're kidding." There was no answer, which only helped to raise the goosebumps on his arms, "You have to be kidding! You can't- So, what, you plan to just-" Air thawed around him as Eden huffed and grabbed his jacket. He began to storm out, "Fine! If you want to live complacent with this life, be my guest!" If there was a door he would have slammed it.

A fair was going on. Something was always going on. A fair, a festival, a parade. It was a good distraction to the public, albeit an annoyance to those not as pleased with the sounds and lights. Eden found himself biting at ravens wings, leaning passive-aggressively against a withered tree,

"Do you plan to lean passive-aggressively against that tree, or socialize like a normal person?" A sultry voice asked beside him. Eden moved the hood of his cloak just enough to see a handsome stranger just at his left. He stared with amber eyes into Eden with a strange sort of purpose. The man seemed to be looking into him, opposed to the more common way of simply looking at a person. It unnerved him,

"Oh! How could I have been so foolish?" Eden faked a gasp, "Because of course I like to busy myself with the events of a normal person," 

The stranger offered a hand to shake but not a name,

"Well then, could you at least give me something to call you?"

Eden didn't shake it, "I like to keep it for myself, actually."

They laughed, "Oh, I just might like you, sir no-name," 

"But is that feeling mutual, Mr...?" 

"Mx. Roman, actually," 

Eden smiled. Now the handsome stranger had a name, he turned ever so slightly to face them, "No last name?"

"I can hardly guarantee you a first," They grinned, clapping their hands together, "Now! You finally decided to look at me," 

Eden scoffed, "Trust me, Roman, I've seen you this whole time. With a face like that, you're hard to ignore." 

Romans face reddened, hidden by the orange firelight, "Oh," they chuckled a bit, "You jest, of course." 

Eden sighed, "If that's how you would like to take it, then sure."

"Do you ever say something without an aura of vague-ness, lies and dolls?" 

(Scholars were long confused by this, before remembering the age-old fairytale of pies and dolls, popular in the 1360's.)

"That truly depends on who you ask,"

Roman sighed, "I'll assume a no."

Without much hesitation, Roman pulled Eden from the ground into his arms bridal-style (Although, scholars might say that style of carry was made much later. Humans, however, are well aware that style of carry has long existed prior to the dates given. Hence why scholars are often wrong.) much to the man's surprise. He jumped, hanging on to Roman's neck and squirming,

"Have anywhere to be, tonight?" they never let go. 

"Yes, Of course I--"

Roman saw through the lie, "Like the man who decided socializing was too good for him has many plans." They hummed, all together too happy, "So unless the king has a bounty on you, I'm taking you to Thomas'."

He couldn't argue. The only place Eden would have to go is back home, and current-Eden regretfully remembered past-Eden deciding to leave the problem of getting inside up to him. He would shoot that guy, if he could. There was no choice but to let Roman do as they pleased. 

No that he particularly disliked the idea. 

As it turned out, "Thomas'" Was an animal sanctuary. That "take in creatures unfit for the wild and give them a home!" the brochure said in a far to happy tone. 

"Thomas and I go way back- He was a castle guard when I was just a kid, y'know." Roman explained, "But later he decided to open this sanctuary." 

Eden nodded, taking in the sight of the place. It wasn't in the worst of shape by any means, although it wasn't in the best, either. Eden traced his hand over the cracks in the plaster, grimacing at the dust that settle on the tips of his fingers, "Definitely seems to follow health codes,"

Roman laughed without humor, "Yeah, well, the king doesn't seem to think this place deserves funding," They held bitterness in their voice, beginning to lead Eden through, "Doesn't stop people from doing what they can to keep this place going. Gosh, don't know where they'd go. All the animals, I mean. The wolves and land whales and dragons and all--"

"Whales?" (Although it was never acknowledged by scholars, Eden's phobia of whales existed at age seven and well into adulthood. The scholars deemed this an unimportant, and this is why you do not trust scholars.)

Roman nodded, seemingly confused at the reaction. Eden, who suddenly decided he didn't particularly fancy being around such horrid creatures as land whales, pulled back. Roman looked oddly to him, stepping towards Eden. They held up his hands, "You won't even see them, fibber on the roof." Their voice assured, "And, trust me, you're going to want to come with me." 

"Because you think I fancy being fed to the whales?" Eden hissed in response. He stepped back again. Roman sighed, 

"Just trust me." 

Ah, yeah, trust a person he just met and was abducted by. sounds great.

A door behind them opened. Someone stepped out, lighting up seeing the pair,

"Roman!" He grinned, "And who's this?"

There was a beat of silence. Roman probably expected Eden to introduce himself. 

He didn't.

"A... friend! He's a friend of mine,"

"Oh!" There was a strained sort of hesitance in the mans voice, "Are you sure he... Oh, well I mean does he support...?"

He gestured vaguely. Roman nodded, 

"I'm quite sure he does! And have I ever brought an untrustworthy friend before?"

"Seven times, Roman," The man deadpanned. His smile returned, opening his door wider and beckoning them both inside the room.

It was dark. No windows, the only source or light being a fair few candles set on a table. It was small. Seven people could fit, though only five stood there now, including Eden and Roman. The table held papers covered in illegible notes and scribbles and unsightly doodles at the corners. If you took more than a look at the place, it would bring a vague feeling of fear that Eden had long ago grown accustomed to. 

He briefly wondered exactly what he was doing here with a crowd of strangers. The man seemed to read his mind. He stuck out a hand for Eden to shake,

"I'm Thomas Sanders!" He grinned,

"We're planning a revolution."

[burtlederp]

My OCs (A Masterpost)

So, you wanna get to know my OCs, eh? Great! That’d make my day! I appreciate your interest more than you know! :) I have a lot of OCs, I will admit, many more than will ever show up here on tumblr. I will only include, in this post, those that have had drabbles written about them and/or people have expressed interest in. The current number of OCs featured on my tumblr is 12; Milo, Anton, Jackson, Valerie, Elias, Risa, Samson, Cindy, Moe, Damien, and Marcelo.

Character bios are below the read more, because, trust me, there is a LOT more to read!

Milo’s Story: A Complete and Utter Mess

Milo O’Malley He’s lean, he’s definitely not mean, and he’s nearly exactly five feet of skin and bone and little else. Beaten down repeatedly through his life, this kid (who doesn’t even look like a kid anymore) resigned himself to a life of harsh, relentless work until his body inevitably gives out on him when he turns 26. Oh, except, it seems a very powerful tiger sprite is trying to possess his body, and he actually doesn’t want to die. And he’s been “adopted” by a giant pick-axe wielding dad-friend named Jackson, who also insists he lives on. Milo isn’t much of a looker, not anymore, with a gaunt, ghoul-like face, dull green eyes, and a shaved head (easier to keep clean when you don’t really have a place to get clean). He is, as I mentioned earlier, five feet tall, thanks to malnutrition through his early years, and dangerously thin. He’s of Irish descent, though his pale skin has long become a sickly gray. After living with Jackson for a while though, his red hair’ll grow out a bit and he’ll get back some of that snow-white European paper skin. As far as he knows, Milo is straight, but he’s never really been in a relationship before. Milo’s Playlist

Jackson Pitolua Jackson is the ideal dad-friend. He’s kind, he’s caring, protective, intelligent, and has a witty sense of humor. He’s been through some very rough times in his life, has had his fair share of terrifying, nightmare-inducing experiences, but this refining fire has left him who he is, and he doesn’t soon forget it. Not all his emotional wounds have completely healed, though, but at least his coping mechanism is seeking to help others as much as possible. As much as he’s grown, he’s still young, and he still hungers for adventure, doing so regularly as both a hobby and a profession. This has led him to meeting and literally adopting Anton, and figuratively adopting Milo. In terms of physical descriptions, Jackson is 6-feet-10-inches and over 200 lbs of pure muscle, with short black hair, a large nose, warm brown eyes, and wide smile missing at least one tooth. His Polynesian descent grants him darker skin, and he’s gotten his fair share of tribal tattoos, with one climbing up his arm to just under his left ear, and another adorning his right leg. His adventuring has led him to be in need of a patron, and so he has chosen one, his allegiance to his Samoan goddess of choice emblazoned all over his back. If he were to be put into any Dungeons & Dragons class, it would be barbarian, because he favors little armor and wields a pickaxe that weighs twice or perhaps even thrice that of Milo. Jackson is straight. Jackson’s Playlist

Anton (Pitolua) Anton is a bit different from others, in that he is not human. He’s from a race of humanoids known as the Night People, carnivorous humans with a very base, tribalistic society. Anton left it in a heartbeat to go with Jackson when he was around the age of 17, after hearing all the wonderful, magical things the modern world had. Anton had his first taste of indoor life and decided he would never go outside ever again. Jackson didn’t allow for this, but Anton has remained rather partial to his static, sustained environments. Anton is a strange one in terms of personality, having lived in a competitive survival situation his whole life and suddenly plopped into one where everyone’s on fair ground. He’s picked up the english language quickly, but he’s still working on his mannerisms, so he can often come off rather cold or harsh, but he means well. He’s protective of his new family, and would give his life for them in a second. Appearance-wise, I am still undecided. I’ve sketched multiple designs, but I haven’t found one that I really enjoy yet. Some features I have decided on though are sharp claws instead of nails, sharp teeth, clawed, long-toed feet with rotating ankle joints and opposable thumbs. Distinguishing features for Anton specifically are his long, black hair and the long scar down his left arm from a nasty fall he took in his youth. Anton, sexually-speaking, is very young and not sure about anything and, for now, forbidden from the act of it by Jackson, who’s nervous he might take after the rather… animalistic sexual habits of his people. Luckily, Anton plays Fortnite and doesn’t get out a lot, so Jackson doesn’t need to worry too much (yet).

Valerie Floraison A wood elf in a modern world, Valerie was raised mostly in Detroit with her nine sisters. Their family made trips back and forth between home and their parents’ home in another realm throughout her childhood so she could still retain her culture. Her family struggled financially all her life, a combination of poor decisions and bad luck, when left Valerie hungry for a life outside of the projects. She moved to D.C. after graduating top of her class at a college in the other realm, and joined the newly-publicized Magic Affairs Agency, becoming head of resource management in no time. She’s got a fiery, stubborn spirit about her, and it’s easy to see her as shallow and materialistic, but she really does care about people. Well, except maybe Jackson. Her sister was engaged to Jackson, and died fighting with him against a manticore. Valerie blames Jackson for her sister’s death. She’s not quite over it yet. As courtesy of her job and career, she’s quite good at wearing a pleasant face, even when she may or may not desire to strangle you. She has a habit of getting a bit physical when angry, never anything beyond a slap, and she does tend to feel bad about it afterwards.  Valerie is almost exactly 6 feet tall, with a thin and willowy figure. She has those long elf-ears, which bear a moderate number of piercings each. She has darker skin with long, wavy black hair that’s usually down, falling over her shoulders, and purple eyes. She favors the finer things in life, so it’s rare that you’ll ever see her out of a dress or not wearing heels. On her left hand is a small rune she had tattooed there that grants a permanent illusion perfectly-applied make-up on her face (no, this did not come cheap). Valerie, in college, double-majored in finances and illusion magic, with a minor in magical cloth manipulation. If she’s not wearing Gucchi, she’s wearing her own couture.

Elias and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Life

Elias Benson Native to the lands of Utah, Elias has never really had an outstanding good time in his life. His family never liked him and kicked him out of the house before he was a legal adult, which resulted in him moving across the country on his own before he was really ready. He’s had relationships before too, and none of them were healthy. He’s a gentle soul, but the world hasn’t really given him a chance to prove it, so he’s turned out to be a bit of a punk, and a lot of an idiot. Even so, he’s a truly good person, even if his language (and observable intelligence) belies it. Elias, before he meets the bounty hunter Risa, is about 5”9, and is pretty gaunt. He’s not quite Milo-levels of emaciation, but he’s not exactly looking great either at around 130 lbs. He’s got short, curly brown hair and big, green eyes, and a little nose stud on the left side. Bruises around his neck were pretty much perpetual from his girlfriend. He also was never terribly clean, so he was usually kinda grungy. After meeting Risa, things more or less took a sharp 180–he got and stayed clean, and bumped his weight up to almost 200 lbs through healthy diet and strict workout regimen. If he gave thought to it and knew it was a thing, he’d identify as asexual or straight.

Elias’ Playlist

Risa Literally out of this world, I like to describe her as a psychopath who accidentally gave herself a soul–because she kinda did. She’s from another planet in the future in a different universe, and was originally a complete sociopath. Not the “mwahaha I like murder because it’s fun” kinda thing, but she just didn’t feel things the same way or at all as other people, literally incapable of most emotions. She was wicked smart though, and after many years of learning about machines and how to be a witch, she complete switched her weak, fleshy body for a metal one and a computer chip brain. Due to an error on her part, however, this robot brain opened up neural pathways for her to experience and use emotions other than want and annoyance. Not that that slowed down her bounty hunting career in the slightest. She’s a planeswalker of sorts, meaning that she’s particularly good at finding her way around the multiverse, and takes advantage of it and the many job opportunities presented because of it. She’s a grade-A badass, also a bit op, and she’s lets people know it. She (kidnapped? Adopted? Enslaved? Took in? There is no good word for how she got Elias) got Elias as her henchman because she was bored and accidentally got attached. Risa is cold, calculating, greedy, and apathetic unless there’s money in it for her. She also has a sense of humor and sarcasm that usually smacks harder than a bullwhip. When she’s not on a job or in a rush, she can also be incredibly, horribly, awfully petty, and takes advantage of her often-if-not-always superior resources to smack down her enemies like flies. She’s a very practical person, and will always choose the most logical pathway in any situation. Risa is lesbian, but the only people she’s ever been attracted to in any way at all is her computer wife Carol, and a giant, sentient, anti-orbital gun she met once on a distant world. Risa is the most difficult to describe in words for me. She’s designed her body to be lightweight but incredibly strong, with minor force manipulation. Thanks to a very expensive coat of paint and arrangement of parts inside her, if she goes ten minutes without direct observation, she becomes completely invisible and partially intangible. She’s not powered by fusion or fission, but rather, a captured god that resides in an enchanted jar in her chest cavity. Her body lacks a lot of humanistic features, being mostly a very smooth, rounded head with antennae on either side that resemble ears, and often move like them too. It wasn’t until she got Elias that she finally installed a proper mouth on herself as well. Risa’s Playlist

Samson Callidan Samson is a very gentle soul who speaks softly, and tends to not speak for long either. He’s wise and observant and a very good listener, because likely, no matter who you are, he cares, at least a little. He had a harsh mother who taught him whats-what, growing up in deep Texas. He has the ability to force people to do as he says, as long as he’s commanding them, like a built in command spell from D&D. Luckily, his mother knew him better than he realized and she was always able to stuff something in his mouth and taught him that his power wasn’t to be misused. Samson is not a young man anymore, but is old, and his parents would say he’s been old since he was about twelve. He’s a religious man, a devout member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, though he didn’t join until well into his twenties, after mission age. He still has done his fair share of traveling, and some of it he even enjoyed. One trip into another realm left him handicapped, with only one functioning eye, and he’d say in a heartbeat that that was the worst time in his life. Luckily, his second wife, Cindy, thinks eyepatches look cool. He and Cindy live alone, way up in the mountains of Utah in a tiny little cabin he and she built together. They have had no kids together, but he plays grandfather to Cindy’s children from a previous marriage of hers. Samson is a gentle giant, roughly 6’’5 and of various European descent. He has tan, leathery skin, with a kind, gray eye, and his hair has long-since grayed, though once it had been a lovely gold. He’s built thick, with a strong figure that Cindy keeps filled out, and despite his age, he’s retained a generous portion of strength from his youth. He’s got a large scar that stretches across his face, going over his left eye, nose, and just barely missing his mouth. His nose, once handsome, is disfigured at the tip, and his eye is a badly-healed, still-freshly scarred pit in his eye socket, though one does not usually see it beneath his eyepatch.

It’s Too Damn Cold To Be A Superhero Today

Damien Lowry Yet another upcycled character, I’m still kinda pulling off the cobwebs and dusting him off, so his backstory may be subject to change. But, as a person, Damien is stubborn as a mountain, and the kind of person whose idea of ‘relaxation’ is more work, but work he wants to do. He’s pretty easy to get along with, but he won’t tell you if he doesn’t like you, he’ll just avoid you. He bounced between homes as a child, traded constantly between his sweet-yet-frail grandparents, his constantly sick or injured mother, or his perpetually drunk father. He’s pretty quiet, a result of too much time spent alone, or too many voices in his head. The voices, fortunately, give him a handful of powers to use as he pleases, and he does so, wielding them under the guise of the superhero, the Alchemist, so named for his ability to summon substances at will. Unfortunately, the power is very specific, and Damien never graduated highschool, so chemistry is a bit foreign to him. But he manages. Damien is mostly only interested in women, a couple men catching his eye throughout his life, but nothing ever really progressed further than crushes, and he’s never had a steady relationship. Damien stands at roughly 5’‘10, and while he’s not starving or emaciated, he’s still on the skinny side, but is deceivingly strong. He has some Native American in him, giving him darker features, including brown eyes and shaggy, usually un-kept black hair. His teeth are noticeably crooked and slightly yellowed, so he usually doesn’t smile with his teeth. He’s built sturdy, and hey, maybe someday he’ll fill it out.

Marcelo Blackwood Marcelo is, honestly, not that different from most super villains. He’s disgustingly rich, wicked smart, and seeks power. He does take the path less traveled from here though, because Marcelo is not mean nor conniving nor evil. He’s a rather nice mayor of a small town in Alaska that’s best well known for having the only superhero in upper North America. The superhero’s name is the Alchemist, and he has but one main foe: the Roman. Who is the Roman? Marcelo is the Roman. By day, he plays the role of the town mayor, a kind, courteous fellow with more money than he knows what to do with, and by night, he is a super villain, blowing things up and robbing banks. What is his motivation? Well, it’s his hobby. Keeps things interesting. His wife is his greatest supporter and literally his partner in crime. Marcelo is, despite all this, a very kind person. He’s very smart, he’s patient, and tries to do his best by the citizens of his town. Even when he’s playing the role of the Roman, he avoids true wanton destruction or harming innocents, bystanders, and law enforcement. Mayor Blackwood is 6’‘10, with pale skin, piercing blue eyes, and always well-styled black hair. He has a perfect nose, a nice jawline, and is all around a strikingly handsome fellow. He may be in his late thirties, but it’s hard to tell. The mayor is always dressed well, rarely dressed down any lower than business casual, and all his clothes are custom-tailored. As the Roman, he wears boots with thick soles so that he is 7 feet tall, and wears a expertly-made and expertly-applied fake beard under his Roman centurion helmet. The helmet also has a visor to further hide his identity.

A Menagerie of Disasters (Everyone Else)

Moe Moe is an older character of mine, and for the writing blurb I used him in, I was really recycling him just for the specific scene in mind. As of now, there isn’t much to say about him. He’s a pained, mentally-distressed individual with a very rowdy demon trapped in his mind.

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That’s all, folks!

[inkribbon796]

Doctor, Doctor

Summary: In a day ruled with chaos, Logan finds he and the sides have to get a bit creative when dealing with a hostage situation.

    Today, by coincidence or a bad roll of the dice, was one of the most chaotic days for the heroes. The whole city seemed to be going insane, which oddly enough had nothing to do with Wil. Mercifully the only thing going right was that Wilford seemed to be taking a day off from his usual chaos to bother Dark. Anti and Natemare had the Spetics running all over the industrial district trying to keep it from literally falling apart. Silver was dealing with a huge traffic incident that Anti had accidentally caused, but the damage was still awful. Bing was keeping Google from getting involved in the chaos.

    So Logan found himself racing to one of the major banks in town, completely in costume. Internally Logan knew the situation was already bad, mostly because of who he had with him.

    “KoS,” Logan called into his communicator, King was usually very particular about using his name around villains or over the radio. For reasons that Logan were sure were sound, King had a distrust of other heroes and of Google’s capacity to hack their radio channels. “We are enroute.”

    “Finally,” King’s voice crackled in his ear. “I’m not sure how much longer we’ve got before this turns sour.”

    Logan and his fellow Side were racing towards King’s location.

    The other hero was waiting with the police outside of the bank, everyone on edge. King had his goggles on to obscure his eyes from view. “There you are,” King sounded on the verge of a panic attack, he looked around, “where’s the Cap?”

    “Indisposed,” Logan warned as the person racing to catch up with Logan finally got to them and was gasping for breath. King looked nervous, Logan was quick to continue before the situation could spiral out of control. “In his stead, I have brought a more than adequate negotiator. King, officers, meet Dr. Emile Picani.”

    Emile was still breathing heavily, half doubled over. The person in question had a tan sweater and large square glasses. “Hold up, kiddo, I’m not as fit as Ro.”

     “That is something you can redirect,” Logan frowned.

    Emile straightened up, smiling, “Not if I want to help negotiate.”

    “Hold up,” King demanded as Emile walked up. “You know we can’t let a civilian walk into a hostage scenario.”

    Emile was looking around, mostly at the bank.

    “King,” Logan walked forward. “Dr. Picani has powers very similar to the Captain. If I have ever done anything to earn your trust, I beseech you to trust me on this.”

    “Now Lo,” Emile spoke up. “Let’s not sell me too quickly. King, is it?”

    King nodded nervously, “Yes, careful how you use it.”

    “You shout it at the top of your lungs in your park,” Logan reminded.

    “Different context,” King reminded.

    “Every second counts,” Emile interrupted. “King, my empathic abilities are far more powerful within visual sight of someone.”

    “That wouldn’t be a problem if we could get you in there,” King admitted. “But he’s got fifteen people in there by our guesses.”

    “We don’t have to fight him, I just need to see him, and he needs to see me,” Emile corrected. “Just as long as we’re in the same room.”

    King walked over to a cop car and took the blueprint of the bank. “Alright, there’s a back door, and luckily for us, this guy’s a lone wolf. But he’s not going into the back rooms, so I don’t think he’s been checking the cameras.”

    After talking to the cops, Logan and Emile were leaving the scene to loop around to the back while the cops distracted the bank robber.

    “You two had to pick today of all days,” Logan grumbled as they approached the back door meant for manager and security access. It didn’t have a lock, but an access keypad, Logan immediately started working on the keypad.

    “They didn’t plan for the city to turn itself upside down,” Emile defended.

    Logan paused and sighed, “I didn’t mean to blame you. It seems to follow that in a day with the most chaos, Patton might have felt it first. Perhaps this is another villain’s doing?”

    “He doesn’t hold it against you,” Emile smiled warmly, then seemed to think on it. “Roman does though.”

    Logic rolled his eyes behind his visor, the door cracking itself open so he could let them in. “Of course he does.”

    The two crept in quietly, unfortunately when the door closed a chime sounded out and the two Sides immediately hid behind whatever they could find.

    “What was that?” a rather agitated and rattled voice called out and someone else let out a choked cry. Emile’s eyes darted to Logic, who was already preparing his TASER, but nodded at Emile.

    The therapist took a deep breath and waited.

    “Shut up!” the robber screamed and dragged a sobbing woman into the room, staying in the rest of the bank, glancing back at the front glass windows, as well as King and the officers. “Show yourself, or I shoot her.”

    “Hello,” Emile jumped out of the manager room and instantly the room transformed into a therapist’s office. “Nurse.”

    The man looked around, trying to bring the gun to the woman’s head again but found both gone. Emile was in a comfy chair with a couch behind the robber. He noted that the hand he’d been carrying the gun was tingling. “What’d you do to me?”

    Emile looked around, the walls and shelves around them were filling up with various 80’s and 90’s memorabilia: Simpsons, Angry Beavers, and various other T.V shows. “I am here to help people, and you are free to walk right out that door if you want.”

    He hesitated, looking back at the door behind him and Emile looked around, hoping that Logan and the others were clearing the rooms.

    “I don’t need,” he started turning around and starting to walk out, breaking eye contact and field of view from Emile completely. This made the room start to disappear, and he walked right into Logan’s TASER. As he jolted and crashed to the ground, the logical Side had the man’s gun in his hands. The woman he’d been holding at gunpoint nowhere to be seen.

    Emile sighed, “I almost helped.”

    Logic was busy cuffing him. “Maybe next time. You proved your point.”

    With the patrons and staff being evacuated, and the assailant being put into the back of a police car, Logan and Emile walked over to King.

    “Good job,” King praised, “are you from Florida as well, Logic said you had the same powers as the Captain.”

    “It would be prudent to continue this conversation at the base,” Logic adjusted his visor. “Security and what-not.”

    “Meet you two there,” King agreed and raced off, scaling one of the closest buildings and starting to jump along the rooftops.

    “I can see why Patt likes him,” Emile smiled. “Seems like someone who’s been through a lot.”

    “He’s a private person, all I know is that King and the Host joined the Hero’s Coalition at the same time,” Logan admitted quietly, trying to be mindful of using King’s superhero name. They started heading back to the base.

    Emile was quiet for a little while, “Can we have a little bit longer?”

    “As much as I would like to give you that kind of promise, we are unsure of everyone else’s situations when we return,” Logan reminded. “If the Prince or Captain’s presence is needed again, and the hour is passed, then we can make a compromise of some sort.”

    “Thanks,” Emile smiled nervously as they headed back, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary and Logan was even hopeful that most of the chaos in the city seemed to be dying down.

    Silver and J.J seemed to be back at the base, talking with King. “I swear, I’m going to lose my mind,” Silver had his mask off as he held a coffee in his hands.

    Both of the heroes turned to stare at Emile. “Uhhh,” Silver began. “Logic.”

    “In a moment, has the situation in the city sufficient calmed down?” Logan stayed close by, but lft Emile free to look around. 

    “Yeah, Anti and Nate slinked off to whatever spot in the internet they haunt,” Silver didn’t take his eyes off Emile. “Seriously though, King said you made a new friend.”

    “Dr. Emile Picani,” Emile smiled, doing a low bow that reminded the other heroes of Roman.

    “So,” Silver asked. “You a real doctor?”

    “In degree no,” Emile grimaced, looking at Logan. “Hey, Lo, Patt wants to talk.”

    “Oh,” Logan turned on the clock setting on his visor. “That’s rare.”

    Taking off his visor, Logan attached it to his belt and took off his mask, “Excuse me gentlemen.” He then stood behind Emile and set a hand on both of the Side’s shoulders. “Who’s your favorite character in Steven Universe?”

    Emile jolted, “Uhhh, Gr—”

    The Doctor seemed to glow and Logan pulled at his shoulders. Then Emile split down the middle and Roman and Patton emerged in Emile’s place.

    “Are you kidding me?” Roman shouted in his typical overdramatic frustration. The other heroes were just staring at the Sides. “Em always takes your side.”

    Patton shrugged, “Come on, Greg’s a good character.”

    “Garnet is so much better,” Roman argued.

    “Patton,” Logan interrupted. “If you want to talk to them, you need to do so.”

    “Can all three of you do that?” King asked, his eyes bugging out of his skull.

    “Oh yeah,” Patton grinned, his argument with Roman seemingly forgotten, “I like Remy, Rem’s fun.”

    “Remy never sleeps and focuses too much on social media,” Logan cut in, turning away. “I have too much to do and the city won’t wait for us. Excuse me, I have simulations to run.”

    “Can all three of do that together?” Silver asked Roman.

    “Yeah, but Logan doesn’t like it, we get nothing done and can’t remember it,” Roman rolled his eyes. “Which isn’t fair because the Others can form the Dragon Witch and take over half of Florida and I am kept from my greatest adventures of all time.”

    “I think we’re missing something,” Patton added.

    “What?” Roman asked. “A new sonet? A different song?”

    “Anxiety,” Patton smiled.

    “I’d rather die,” Roman gasped in horror.

    “He might be a bit surly but he’s helped us way more than the Duke or Deceit,” Patton reminded. “Not to mention he rescued us from Wilford’s mind control spell, he didn’t have to. Even if he thinks he owed Doc Iplier anything. Anx was also spotted near the park after a couple of the Septics had a run in with Yan and something pulled her away from them.”

    “We don’t know if that last one was him,” Roman reminded suspiciously. “He probably was helping Yan get away.”

    “Well, I think he’s a good guy that just is friends with some really bad guys,” Patton offered.

    “We talking about the same guy who stole all the lasagna and Funyuns from three different stores because, and I quote: ‘it was a Monday, and Garfield would be proud of me’ that guy?”

    “Yeah, if we could get him to stop doing that, it would help,” Patton admitted. “Stealing’s bad.”

    King rolled his eyes, “In the grand scheme of things, it’s not that bad. He shouldn’t be doing it, but at least he’s not getting into knife fights with local mafia.”

    “How would you know?” Roman laughed.

    “Because I don’t even think he carries a knife on him,” King scoffed.

    “Have you seen the guy?” Roman reminded. “That shadebelt probably has like fourteen knives on him.”

    King smiled and motioned at Roman, “Come over here, I wanna show you something.”

    “Is it a knife?” Roman came over cautiously, but with a huge smile. “I can take care of myself.”

    Roman’s eyes darted to King’s right hand. Roman and the other Sides were all lefties, but Roman knew from watching King writing that the Hero was right-handed.

    The instant Roman was close enough to grab, King lunged and Roman went to King’s left, but wound up with a switchblade pressed to his throat. Not enough to cut, but enough to threaten.

    “You’re a lefty?” Roman asked in shock.

    “Nah,” King pulled away and then flipped it closed. “Just my dad taught me. The old man never wanted me caught with his pants down in a fight. Anyways, you don’t need fourteen knives to hurt someone. You just need to be really good with one of them. I will admit though, having a backup knife isn’t a bad idea.”

    “I always wondered how you defended the park,” Roman smiled.

    “After a couple of shifty drug dealers get attacked by a horde of squirrels, people tend to learn their lesson. Keeps the park safe for people who need it after hours.” King slipped the knife back into its hiding spot, but now Roman couldn’t unsee its location.

    Patton had started slowly backing away from the other heroes, smiling warmly as he headed for the little shared kitchen every used as a mess hall or a relaxation area. He was humming How Does She Know from Enchanted because it was stuck in his head. His mood improved and he planned to make himself a sandwich and a couple homemade ice cream cookie sandwiches. A little spring in his step as he skipped down the hall.

~::~ ~::~ ~::~

    I really wanted to put Emile and Remy in Egotober, but I couldn’t make them fit and wanted to do other stuff with them in this AU.