#( ⠀pairing⠀ ✩ ⠀sage&sadie⠀ )

[writecrafter]

“Samantha.” Ela havia encontrado os registros da outra, porém nada ainda sobre seu paradeiro, o que lhe perturbava de uma maneira que Sage não era capaz de explicar. Era... estranho. Sage suspirou, abraçando a mais nova forte, permitindo-se aquele momento para relaxar um pouco, ela era real e ela estava bem. Sadie estava bem, ao menos, no que podia se dizer fisicamente. “Eu estive te procurando há quase um ano.” Confessou num sussurro, respirando fundo.

Quebrou o abraço com pesar, mas apenas o bastante para ser capaz de olhar o rosto da mais nova. “Descobri sobre você e Samantha há pouco tempo, se não eu teria procurado por vocês antes.” Sage sentia-se até um tanto culpada, por não ter sido capaz de encontrar as irmãs, de trazê-las de volta para a família quando talvez elas mais tenham precisado... porém, a loira tampouco sabia de algumas coisas do próprio passado.

Sadie não compreendia muito bem o que estava acontecendo naquele momento, mas de uma coisa ela tinha certeza, aquela mulher que dizia ser a sua irmã mais velha não parecia estar mentindo e muito menos querer fazer algum mal para ela, além do mais, a única vez que sua cabeça latejou daquele jeito foi quando sua irmã gêmea voltava de suas viagens com as amigas ou quando tentavam brincar de pique-esconde com outras crianças quando eram mais novas. 

Os olhos da loira eram idênticos aos dela, não só isso como até algumas características físicas e dava principalmente para notar que era um pouco mais velha, porém, totalmente atraente como a gêmea que tinha falecido anos atrás. — I-Isso é estranho… É quase o mesmo nome que o meu e da minha irmã gêmea. — riu, ainda com os lábios trêmulos. Aquele toque não demorou até que Sadie afastasse a mão e transformasse aquilo em um abraço. — Eu não sei porque, mas sinto que é mesmo a minha irmã. Nunca imaginei que teria uma outra e ainda mais na mesma cidade em que eu vivo.

[pjcrib]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: SADIE & SAGE Puff Sleeves Cropped denim jacket.

[lupinus-bicolor]

Red dead gang + flowers, part two :)

Javier Escuella - Calochortus venustus; Red mariposa lily, a native to the deserts of southern California, it’s a stunning yet diminutive lily that blooms with the spring rains. Its striking petal markings and sharp sepals give it a unique flair that makes this little flower an absolute show stopper.

Sadie Adler - Lupinus arboreus; Yellow lupine, a coastal dwelling perennial shrub, its bright yellow stalks can be seen from February to July along the  Pacific coast. This flower is typically symbolic of voraciousness, resilience, and recovery from trauma.

Micah Bell - Aconitum columbianum; Monkshood, an annual herb that grows in mountainous regions of the western US. One of the most toxic plants in north America, monkshood was used by settlers as poison for rats. It was also given in bouquets as a warning or a threat that symbolized treachery.

Karen Jones - Hibiscus schizopetalus; Spider hibiscus, a plant native to tropical east Africa, this wild looking flower is cultivated as an ornamental in greenhouses around the world. Its fiery looking petals and dangling pistil give this flower an intense look unique to this species.

Kieran Duffy - Aesculus hippocastanum; Horse chestnut, a southern european native closely related to the American chestnut, this tree is a favorite of bonsai artists and ornamental tree nurseries. Its flower spikes produce 1-3 large inedible seeds (”horse chestnuts”) every summer and autumn.

Lenny Summers - Gazania linearis; Treasure flower, native to south Africa and naturalized in the US, this showy orange flower in the Aster family is a drought tolerant plant that is widely cultivated for its beautiful color and ease of hybridization. Given as a gift, it symbolizes riches and and good luck. (I am ignoring the fact that Lenny attains neither of these)

Simon Pearson - Salvia leucophylla; Purple sage, another Pacific coast native with aromatic leaves and light purple flowers. It spreads readily by rhizome and thrives in harsh seaside conditions, making it an optimal choice for stabilizing cliffsides and windswept inlets. It has allelopathic qualities that inhibit the growth of other competing seedlings as well as the growth of certain bacteria and fungi.

John Marston - Opuntia ficus-indica; Barbary fig, a hybrid species of prickly pear cactus widely cultivated as a food crop in arid countries around the world. It thrives in full sun, deep sandy soil, and hot temperatures. In native habitats, it’s mainly pollinated by moths and hummingbirds to produce a sweet, strawberry/fig tasting fruit that can be cooked, eaten raw, or fermented into alcoholic drinks. One of the quintessential western cacti, I couldn’t resist pairing it with our favorite ol’ cowboy.

Susan Grimshaw - Silybum marianum; Milk thistle, a prickly plant with a readily adaptive growth habit, this flower is sometimes cultivated for its seeds or made into a tea for treating various ailments. Traditionally, the thistle symbolizes devotion, bravery, strength, and resilience.

That’s all I got for now :) lemme know if you guys have other flower ideas for these guys, I love mashing my two favorite things together like this!

[atom-sys-reblog]

the dividers are very nice /gen

[ this post is/has turn into a notes post. noting what kind of things change between headmates instead of relying on collective terrible memory ]

[ adding this after the fifth paragraph, we are rambling. just listing random notes for later ]

differentiating between headmates is one of the hardest things to do for us. a lot of us are influenced by the others [ likely because of extremely low amnesia barriers and our notes/high unconscious communication ] so opinions and such are very similar.

another thing that a lot of us have in common is an accent that is not natural to our body. me [ aspen ], sage, apricot, and probably another headmate all share a british accent.

fortunately [ ish ] is that only two headmates have a typing quirk. though i think some others are catching on and unconsciouly choosing to type differently. [ two original typing quirk headmates being myself, aspen. ( short note-i forgot my name for a moment ) and lightbulb ]

lightbulb and suitcase are both objects so that gives them a sense of confusion in our body [ suitcase more-so. ] mainly in the form of not knowing how the body works or being uncomfortable with the way we look. [ typically we generally avoid mirrors so the second part usually shows up while they look at our hands ]

three of our headmates have partners. stephen and kiwi are together and lightbulb has a partially-canon partner in source. both kiwi and stephen rarely/never front without each other and are very distinct in their fronting patterns. lightbulb searches for her partner through the actual source, fan art, and through her own drawings. [ recently our papers have been filled with her drawings ]

sadie is the only headmate with a distinctly different art style. she is also the only age regressor and the youngest regardless. her presence in front is decently obvious because of the way she affects the body.

the most recent time sadie fronted was during a period of overstimulation. [ which turns out is a common pattern for her and is likely why we feel physically and mental small while overstimed ] she appears significantly more autistic [ masking is not easy while overstimed and its also not something we want to force on her ] even when not overstimulated.

sadie hasnt been forced to mask so she never really learned the purpose so she will: ramble on and on, excessively and very outwardly stim, and regardless of "social acceptability" she will find a way to calm herself down

for example, during class we arent allowed to listen to music or anything but we were overstimulated and sadie started fronting so she immediately put music on and rocked in our chair hands as close to our chest as she could get them

the bodys abilities [ particularly drawing this case ] often carry over to all headmates. while its terribly unreliable, we do occasionally use our most recent drawings to identify headmates. things like "did we draw our self" or "this is --- favorite character, are they fronting right now" and other questions come to mind when we look at them. [ along with that is the desire to draw, some of us want to or dont want to significantly more or less than others ]

finally, i think, is phantom shifts. this has a similar issue that voice does because many of us have the same kind of shifts [ almost all of us have some kind of wings, ears, and/or a tail in headspace ]. apricot and myself have pretty much the same shifts, cat-like ears & tail and large fluffy wings [ which makes sense since we are very similar in appearance ] stephen has deer like ears and tail. kiwi and avery have nothing. suitcase has a short incredibly bushy cat tail [ and, partially unrelated, no arms ]. lightbulb is most distinct besides stephen as she has wings on her head [ ? ] along with a long sharp tail and a pair of wings on her back [ which she described as being made of sea glass ]

-aspen [ and a hint of Apricot ]

[ like she said, identifying headmates is a pain ]

Ways that we tell each other apart that may or may not work for some of you:

One thing we noticed about ourselves is that our voices are very different from each other. Mine (Barbed Wire) is a lot deeper than Kandi's (who is very high pitched because they are a child). While it may come naturally to us, admitedly it is hard to seperate my voice from Sargent's or Lupus (other alters we have). So Think of what your voice is supposed to sound like and emulate it with the body's voice.

Name tests. Self explanatory. Go through he lost of names of alters you suspect you might be. Often times if you refer to "yourself" in third person (Example: I just don't know if I'm Vezzel or not) then you probably aren't them or you're co-con

If you have another relationship (, familial, platonic, or romantic) with another alter, then see if you are willing to be affectionate with them like "you" usually are. Vezzel is dating X, I am not. Vezzel would shower X in love and affection and would say they love love love them so much, but I wouldn't. Thinking of saying the things Vezzel would usually say evokes hesitation and discomfort. You'll want to look out for that.

If you're a system who has at least a few items you keep seperate for their members, then it's important to see which one you're more comfortable using. I'd rather not use the system blog unless I'm making system advice posts like these. This also works with our playlist's because of our different music tastes. NOTE: it is important to not use your alter's seperate spaces while they aren't fronting.

Writing down or remembering your opinions on things. Vezzel and I have differing opinions on things like Syscourse (We're both pro Endo, but it's the minute things) and how we should respond to people. Even if all of your system has similar opinions, there should be at least one that is slightly different from your own. (If there isn't that's okay.)

We are still a fairly new system, but this is what works for us. Might be easier for some, might be more difficult for others. Feel free to add on more things. Dividers and borders were used to make blocks of text easier to read.

Written by: Barbed Wire (Pronouns: @pluricfag )

[jamespotterthefirst]

I love your writing!! 47 for Ethan and MC pretty please

Blinding Lights

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende)  Word count: 400 Prompt: 47. A kiss paired with a tight hug, knocking the breath out of the person being hugged.

Tags:   @openheart12​ | @ethandaddyramsey​ | @noboundariesplease​ | @silverlitskies​ | @the-soot-sprite | @infinitiestones | @emotionalswift2 | @flyawayboo |  @paulfwesley | @hatescapsicum ​| @myusualnerdyself | @thatysn​ | @choicesyouplayandmore​ | @chasingrobbie​ | @trappedinfandoms​ |  @togetherwearerapture | @nooruleman​ | @caseyvalentineramsey​ | @axwalker​ | @parkerattano​ | @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​ | @kaavyaethanramsey | @edith-eggs1​ | @binny1985​ | @sanchita012​ | @lion-ess24 | @drethanramslay​ | @longneckramsey | @choices-lurker | @mvalentine | @axwalker | @jens-diamondchoices

_____________________

“Someone I know has a crush on you,” Lilac is saying, her voice cresting and falling in a small song.

Ethan doesn’t even look up from the file he is reading by one of the many windows. “Let me guess,” he says dryly. “You? ”

She laughs out loud but remains undeterred, determined in her mission. “I should hope so as we've been dating for five months,” she says sagely. “But I was actually talking about my patient, Sadie.”

Ethan glances at her from the top of his glasses. “How is she?”

Stomach flipping unpleasantly, the smile leaves her. A cancer diagnosis always haunts her, particularly when delivered to a child. “She's coping,” Lilac summarizes quietly. “The nurses say she's eating again. And today during my rounds, she asked if you could visit.”

Ethan nods.

“I'll stop by after my meeting with Naveen,” he says, removing his glasses, running a hand down his tired yet somehow still handsome face. “She probably has more clips to show me on that ticking app.”

An inhuman snort escapes her. “You mean Tik Tok?”

“Ha ha.”  He says this humorlessly as she doubles over in uncontrollable laughter. When she finally sobers up, he is watching her with a hint of a smile.

“I probably shouldn't say this at the risk of being ridiculed for the next month but she's teaching me a dance.” Lilac's jaw drops but Ethan barrels on before she can say anything. “Sadie said something about it being called Blinding Lights? It's ridiculous,” he sighs. “But it cheers her up when she makes me practice— What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

An overwhelming warmth spreads through her chest as he speaks, akin to pure sunshine. The idea of Ethan, someone so serious and reticent, performing a silly dance with her patient to brighten her day… It is more that she can bear.

Feet moving on their own accord, she rushes over, throwing her arms around his neck, incredulous that this wonderful, kind doctor is hers. Save for a moment of brief surprise, Ethan is ready, dropping the patient file to lift her in his arms.

“You're amazing,” she informs him, sliding down the length of his chest, her feet reaching the floor.

He is genuinely caught off guard by the compliment. Before he can say anything, Lilac presses her lips against his. He kisses her back without hesitation, pulling her body closer still against his chest.

“All of this over a dance?” he asks, amused and slightly breathless.

They both know it's so much more than that. She kisses him again, his warm lips inviting and yielding to her touch.

When they break apart, she flashes him a taunting smile, her fingers twirling around the fabric of his tie. “Can I please be there when you record it?”

Ethan makes a show of considering it. “Fine,” he says, grinning. “You're lucky I love you.”

“I know.”

_______________

Author’s Note: Ethan would blow up on Tik Tok with his fine self.

Thank you, anon! These are fun <3

Masterlist

[thrillsxchills]

@anightmcre​

Orion wasn’t one to usually chaperone these type of events. But his kids were growing up rather fast and most of them had already found their someone. He wanted to meet Athena and some of Nova’s friends. Sage and Draco were nowhere to be found, but that wasn’t unusual of them. When it was announced that Sadie and him were going to be paired for the tunnel of love he was sure his kids were the culprit for it. Well he assumed Nova at least, she was a hopeless romantic after all. He hadn’t seen Sadie in years and wasn’t even sure if she was here tonight. He didn’t know what she was up to or where her life had led but he was desperate to find out. His chest tightened at the thought of seeing her again. He wasn’t mad that she left, he understood. But by the gods he wanted to bring her home. His heart still lingered with her, and if he had the opportunity to steal her once more he would. Waiting at the boat he saw her. He knew it was her before he could even see her face clearly. Once she got closer he needed a moment to take it all in. “Sadie...” He spoke softly breaking the silence, surprised that she had even showed up. His green eyes never leaving the features of her face. “You’re still beautiful as ever.”

[toloveawarlord]

OC Masterlist

My regular masterlist is in my bio!

This is an incomplete list of OCs. This list includes all OCs that I am currently putting under the WIP folder. If you’ve ever wondered what the inside of my brain looks likes, this is a good representation.

This list currently only contains OCs for Ikerev, Ikevamp, Ikesen, and Obey Me. Other otome will added in time as I put out more work.

It’s an extensive list so it’s under a read more!

Ikemen Revolution:

Iris Adley:

Profile

Pairing: Edgar Bright

Story: For Crimson Glory

Colette Marston

Profile

Pairing: None

Story: Visions of Red

Nova Clemence

Profile

Pairing: Ray Blackwell

Story: Shattered Glass

Sophia Emerson

Profile

Pairing: Fenrir Godspeed

Story: Etched in Blood

Aspen Lancaster

Profile

Pairing: Jonah Clemence

Story: Behind the Times

Arielle Godspeed

Profile

Pairing: Oliver Knight

Story: The Time Between

Greer Atlas

Profile

Pairing: Lancelot Kingsley

Story: Tale as Old as Time

Aster

Profile

Pairing: None

Story: Ghost in the Starlight

Shae Durham 

Profile

Pairing: Edgar Bright & Luka Clemence (Poly Ship)

Story: For My Master (nsfw)

Genevieve Reyes

Profile

Pairing: Luka Clemence

Story: My Solemn Vow

Emery Hayes

Profile

Pairing: Luka/Jonah Clemence

Story: What Once Was

Pippa Marcelle

Profile

Pairing: Lancelot Kingsley & Harr Silver & Sirius Oswald (Poly Ship)

Story: In A Year

Joanna Clemence

Profile

Pairing: Edgar Bright

Story: The Jack of My Heart

Evie Noelle Clemence Bright

Profile

Parents: Edgar Bright & Luka Clemence

Story: A Pair of Jacks

Ivy & Rose Kingsley-Clemence

Profile

Parents: Lancelot Kingsley & Jonah Clemence

Story: Crowned Royalty

Wren Blackwell

Profile

Pairing: Undetermined

Story: Star Crossed (coming soon!)

Sabrina Clemence

Profile

Pairing: Undetermined

Story: Unreleased

Annalise Perry

Profile

Pairing: Kyle Ash

Story: Unreleased; Also in “Chaotic Kingsley”

Sage Altimari

Profile

Pairing: Harr Silver

Story: Unreleased

Clarissa Bright

Profile

Pairing: Loki Genetta

Story: Unreleased

Lumi Blake

Profile

Pairing: None

Story: Unreleased

Jinx

Profile

Pairing: Undetermined

Story: Dead Talks (coming soon!)

Hollis Ash

Profile

Pairing: Fenrir Godspeed

Story: Unreleased

Naomi Kaiser

Profile

Pairing: Red Army (Poly)

Unreleased (nsfw)

Sapphire:

Profile

Pairing: Undetermined

Unreleased

Ikerev Fae Au:

Briar

Profile

Pairing: Luka Clemence

Story: Unreleased

Neri

Profile

Pairing: Zero

Story: Unreleased

Sif

Profile

Pairing: Lancelot Kingsley

Story: Unreleased

Ithica

Profile

Paring: Fenrir Godspeed

Story: Unreleased

Cersi

Profile

Pairing: Jonah Clemence

Story: Unreleased

Vesta

Profile

Pairing: Dean Tweedle

Story: Unreleased

Pisti

Profile

Pairing: Edgar Bright

Story: Unreleased

Lycus

Profile

Pairing: Kyle Ash

Story: Unreleased

Erato

Profile

Pairing: None

Story Unreleased

Argos

Profile

Pairing: Seth Hyde

Story: Unreleased

Ikerev Kids Older Gen:

Atticus Kingsley

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Lancelot Kingsley & Victoria Buckley

Story: Chaotic Kingsley

Lyra Kingsley

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Lancelot Kingsley & Victoria Buckley

Story: Unreleased

Caroline Clemence

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Jonah Clemence & Eleanor Atlas

Story: A Queen in the Making

Jude Clemence

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Jonah Clemence & Eleanor Atlas

Story: Unreleased

Eden Bright

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Edgar Bright

Story: The Red Army Princess

Beckett Ash

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Kyle Ash

Story: Ashes to Ashes

Sadie Ash

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Kyle Ash

Story: Ashes to Ashes

Otto Blackwell

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Ray Blackwell

Story: Unreleased

Castor Oswald

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Sirius Oswald & Grace Fuller

Story: Unreleased (coming soon!)

Nash Oswald

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Sirius Oswald & Grace Fuller

Story: Unreleased (coming soon!)

Cosmo Oswald

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Sirius Oswald & Grace Fuller

Story: Unreleased (coming soon!)

Ezra Clemence

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Luka Clemence & Olivia Davenport

Story: Twin Collision

Valarie Clemence

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Luka Clemence & Olivia Davenport

Story: Twin Collision

Sasha Hyde

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Seth Hyde & Violet Halloway

Story: Devils in Disguise

Finley Godspeed

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Fenrir Godspeed

Story: Black Army Mischief Maker

Lief Genetta

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Loki Genetta

Story: Caged Magic

Lux Genetta

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Loki Genetta

Story: Caged Magic

Casimir Silver

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Harr Silver

Story: Unreleased

Khepri Atlas

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Mousse Atlas & Nailah Katton

Story: The Atlas Puzzle

Scarlett Lapin

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Blanc Lapin & Colleen Ainsley

Story: Unreleased

Declan Lapin

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Blanc Lapin & Colleen Ainsley

Story: Unreleased

Valen Tweedle

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Dean Tweedle & Lydia White

Story: Unreleased

Clea Tweedle

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Dean Tweedle & Lydia White

Story: Unreleased

Rosaleen Tweedle

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Dalium Tweedle

Story: Unreleased

Emmeline Tweedle

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Dalium Tweedle

Story: Unreleased

Jaxon Tweedle

Profile: Toddler ; Teen

Parents: Dalium Tweedle

Story: Unreleased

*Younger Gen IkeRev Coming Soon!*

Ikemen Vampire:

Ophelia Rose

Profile

Pairing: All residents

Story: At Your Service

Alara Bayar

Profile

Pairing: None (might change when adult)

Story: And So They Met

Elodie Perrin

Profile

Pairing: Arthur Conan Doyle

Story: Unreleased (coming soon!)

Juniper Haywood

Profile

Pairing: Undetermined

Story: Unreleased (coming soon!)

Amelia Earhart

Profile

Pairing: Theo Van Gogh

Story: Unreleased (coming soon!)

Chuuya Nakahara

Profile

Pairing: Undetermined

Story: Unreleased

Jericho Blake

Profile

Pairing: Undetermined

Story: Unreleased

Asha

Profile

Pairing: Leonardo

Story: Unreleased (coming soon!)

Selia

Profile

Pairing: Jean D’Arc

Story: Unreleased

Pandora

Profile

Pairing: Napoleon Bonaparte

Story: Unreleased

Mina Van Gogh

Profile

Pairing: Charles & Arthur (Poly ship)

Story: Unreleased (coming soon!)

Elaine Odette Doyle

Profile

Pairing: Isaac Newton

Story: Truth in Simplicity

Ikevamp Kids: Unreleased

Ikemen Sengoku 

Miki

Profile

Pairing: Nobunaga Oda

Story: Clever Canary

Katria Petrov

Profile

Pairing: Masamune Date

Story: Solitary Confinement

Rena Tokugawa

Profile

Pairing: Ieyasu Tokugawa

Story: The Ties that Bind

IkeSen Kids:

Natsu Oda

Profile

Pairing: Iri Tokugawa

Story: The Art of Love and War

Nadia Oda

Profile

Pairing: Senri Takeda

Story: The Art of Love and War

Hikaru Toyotomi

Profile

Pairing: Mei Akechi

Story: The Art of Love and War

Iri Tokugawa

Profile

Pairing: Natsu Oda

Story: The Art of Love and War

Minori Ishida

Profile

Pairing: None

Story: The Art of Love and War

Mai Akechi

Profile

Pairing: None

Story: The Art of Love and War

Mei Akechi

Profile

Pairing: Hikaru Toyotomi

Story: The Art of Love and War

Mari Date

Profile

Pairing: Yuri Sanada

Story: The Art of Love and War

Katsue Uesugi

Profile

Pairing: Satoru Takeda

Story: Unreleased

Senri Takeda

Profile

Pairing: Nadia Oda

Story: Unreleased

Saika Takeda

Profile

Pairing: None

Story: Unreleased

Satoru Takeda

Profile

Pairing: Katsue Uesugi

Story: Unreleased

Yuri Sanada

Profile

Pairing: Mari Date

Story: Unreleased

Yori Sanada

Profile

Pairing: None

Story: Unreleased

Obey Me:

Verena

Profile

Pairing: Asmodeus

Story: Unreleased (coming soon!)

Azazel

Profile

Pairing: None

Story: Unreleased

Beleth

Profile

Pairing: None

Story: Unreleased

Xaphan

Profile

 Pairing: None

Story: Unreleased (coming soon!)

Valefor

Profile

Pairing: None

Story: Unreleased

Onoskelis

Profile

Pairing: Solomon

Story: Unreleased

Alrinach

Profile

Pairing:Undetermined

Story: Unreleased

Serafine

Profile

Pairing: Lucifer

Story: Unreleased (coming soon!)

Karina

Profile

Pairing: None

Story: Unreleased

Hex

Profile

Pairing: Satan

Story: Unreleased

Sybil & Silas

Profile

Pairing: Belphegor & Beel

Story: Unreleased (coming soon!)

NEXT GEN:

Lucifer:

Unreleased

Mammon:

Unreleased

Leviathan:

Henrik: Profile

Valeria: Profile

Cosmin (unreleased)

Nerin (unreleased)

Satan:

Coming Soon

Asmodeus:

Unreleased

Beelzebub

Unreleased

Belphegor

Coming Soon

Diavolo

Unreleased

Barbatos

Unreleased

Simeon

Unreleased

Luke

Unreleased

Solomon

Unreleased

Michael

Unreleased

[galadrieljones]

A Funeral: Chapter 9

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2 | Pairing: Arthur x Mary Beth | Rating: Mature

Content: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Touch-Starved, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Angst, Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Fake Marriage, Epiphanies, Backstory, Banter, Deep Emotions, Sharing a Bed, Swimming, Arthur to the Rescue, Forests, Abduction, Angst, Heavy Angst, Mutual Pining

Summary: To help her process Sean’s death, Mary Beth asks Arthur to take her on a hunting trip, somewhere far away. He agrees, and on their journey, they find quietude and take comfort in their easy bond. In their desperate search for meaning together, they endure a number of trials, some small, some big—all of which bring them closer to one another as well as to the future, and to the unchecked dangers of the natural world.

Thanks @bearly-tolerable for the lovely banner!! <3

For the rest of this story, you can visit the masterpost, linked directly in the menu at my blog, or find me at AO3 as galadrieljones. ^_^

Chapter 9: The Polar Bear

He had let her kiss him. She didn’t know. It took all her breath and made her very weak. She had thought about kissing him a million times. Who hadn’t? Living in a camp full of unwashed cowboys, always grimacing. Going into town where the men were either perfumed and entitled or stinking of pig shit to high hell. Arthur was the cute one, his fair hair flipping out behind his ears, kind blue eyes with the crinkles, always with a flower in his hat, writing while sitting under a tupelo tree, smoking, chewing a reed. Chopping firewood for the camp. He lit her cigarettes, popped the caps off her beer bottles, gave her his hand, danced with her at the parties. It is easy to want to kiss this kind of boy.

But actually kissing him was much different. He wasn’t a boy. He was a man, and tender, like he knew it. Mary Beth was still a little young, and she didn’t quite get it yet, but the thing about a good man is, as he gets older, he gets softer. He just loses that bluster, the immediacy, that thing that once let him think he knew everything, that which guarded him from the world’s trials and tribulations. As a good man ages, he has less to prove, less petty errands to hang onto in the way of his pride. Sure that pride is still there and it’s tiresome, and it’s heavy. It’s harder to lift. But it’s not angry anymore. It just is. The underbelly to all this is that, by the time a man reaches Arthur’s age, while he is still open to the possibility of the future, many of the old sad things from his life and his past have already cemented themselves into the faraway basements of his heart and soul. There is no starting over, not really. They will always be there.

But Mary Beth was sage to this, at least a little, even if she didn’t know it. If living in a camp full of angry, unwashed cowboys had taught her anything, it was how to choose the good men from the bad, the lovers from the fighters, the intelligent from the simple. There were the men who knew themselves as hard men and that was all, and then the men who struggled to parse the ironies of their rough and gruff exteriors from the softness of their own desires. As far as she could tell, the good men of their camp were easy to locate. Charles, Hosea, and Arthur. They were good men. She didn’t know about John yet. She thought he was trying. After Jack disappeared he seemed to change and to quiet into his ways, and he began listening to Arthur. Dutch was lost. She was worried about how lost he had become, and she rightly did not know what to think of him—if he was a good man, it might’ve been buried by now. Lenny was still a boy, as was Kieran, and Sean, too. Sean had died before getting this chance to actualize. The other men of the camp were not necessarily bad. It’s just that they were not what her intuitive heart would have counted as good.

Mary Beth had talked to Sadie about this once, back at Clemens Point, after she’d gone into Rhodes with Arthur and come back, newly dressed and having killed several men. Sadie said to Mary Beth, “Arthur is a good man.” She was shining up her gun, determined. “I couldn’t’ve seen it before, with my head so deep in my grief for Jakey, but now I do. It is a pity he has ended up here, in this waste bin of existence with Dutch and the boys. He deserves more than this. He don’t see me like they do, like a burden. He sees me for what I am and for what I want to be, and for that, I will always be thankful.”

At the time, Mary Beth didn’t think much of it. She was desperately intimidated by Mrs. Sadie Adler. But afterward, she noticed how Sadie and Arthur were friends. And so Mary Beth would chat with her by the morning fire and have coffee sometimes, and she learned that Sadie, while a little scary, was actually very thoughtful, and then Mary Beth began to think about what she had said more carefully. Arthur had opened up to Mary Beth about his fears and trials so many times in that past year especially, particularly after that whole mess in Blackwater, when it seemed the course of their lives had changed forever. She began reaching out to him when he seemed in need of guidance. She noticed he did not open up to very many of the men or women—that included Sadie. He was concerned with maintaining the morale of the camp, and he could not do this if he was showing signs of inner conflict. She sometimes witnessed him and Charles, smoking together by the water, talking something through. Charles was similarly soft beneath his hardness, and he was very kind and protective of the women and also of himself. He carved wonderful animals out of pieces of wood and would give them to little Jack. She wondered if Arthur could carve shapes out of wood. She thought it was something he probably could do but just kept it to himself, a secret.

Now, he was looking at her, but then his eyes were dropping, a little. He was going into a place of thought. He still had his hand in her hair, his thumb tracing the curve of her ear, almost absentminded. He licked his lips and swallowed and then he closed his eyes. She became nervous now. She worried she had broke their friendship, a sin for which she could never forgive herself. And yet, he had kissed her back. It was two-sided, she thought. She had not kissed a man like this maybe ever, in a way that made her want. Boys, sure. And even then, it had been some years. But kissing Arthur made her feel different somehow, responsible and real.

“Arthur?” she said in a little while.

He looked back up, his eyes very soft. He was very vulnerable. “Yes, Mary Beth.”

“What are you thinking?” she said.

He held her hands then, cupped them inside both of his, held them tight. It took him a moment, to gather his thoughts. He cleared his throat. “I am not thinking much, Mary Beth. My brain seems to be malfunctioning at the moment.”

She smiled, and he smiled. “What are you feeling?” she said. This was the better question.

He looked up at her, and he touched her ear again, like he kept going back to it, playing with the hair there, how it tucked behind. Every time he did this, she kind of felt all the nerves in her body zap into existence at the same time. But everything about him was very grounded and settled in that moment. He was neither ecstatic nor distressed. “Like I want you,” he said eventually, very calm and deep, looking at her, then looking down at her hands. “I want you, and it’s railroading me.”

“How so?”

“Because it’s drawing to the surface all these…old wounds,” he said. “It’s hard to talk about. And once again, I am not sure how I should proceed.” Then, it was like he had a thought, he looked up, curious. “What do you want, Mary Beth? What do you see?”

She smiled. Unlike him, she did not feel unsure of how to proceed. “I see you, Arthur,” she said, tucking the hair behind his ears. He seemed comforted by this. “I ain’t a complicated girl. I’m glad I came with you on this trip. I want you, too. You’re a good man.”

He sighed, like he was afraid that was the thing she’d say. He gathered her hands again into his, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking down at their hands together, touching. “I wish I could just…be the thing that you need,” he said, coming apart a little. They’d tipped over some ledge, accidentally. She could feel them going real fast. “Want and need. They’re so different. I really wish, Mary Beth.”

“What do you mean?” she said.

“I ain’t—you don’t wanna be with me,” he said. “I can hear it in your voice. You think it’s something good. You think I’m something else. But you don’t wanna be with me.” He was shaking his head, and then he looked up at her finally. “I promise. I shouldn’t’ve—I shouldn’t’ve kissed you tonight. It don’t matter what I want.”

“Why?” she said. “I don’t understand why what you want don’t matter.”

“Because I will fail,” he said, still looking down at their hands. He had opened up her palms. He was drawing little shapes in her palm with his thumb, even as he said these things. “I’m a wanted man, Mary Beth. I’ll fail. I can’t protect you.”

“All you’ve ever done is protect me,” she said. “And I’m wanted, too, by the way. In at least three locals west of the Mississippi.”

He smiled at this. “I know.”

“I’m just saying.”

“I know.”

“If you could have exactly what you want, right now, what would you choose, Arthur?” she said. She picked up his face so she could look right at him, right into him. “What would it be?”

He seemed confused by the question, like no one had ever asked him what he wanted before. “I don’t know,” he said.

“Yes you do,” she said. “Right now. In this very moment, at Hamish Sinclair’s house in the middle of a proper thunderstorm. The old man is snoring downstairs, and you’re sitting here with me up in this loft, and we just got done with that poem, and we just kissed. Pretend like there’s nothing else. Nothing in the way. Nothing waiting. What would it be?”

He seemed to freeze. So did the whole world. It was very strange, like time casting inward and stopping all of a sudden, everything but the storm. The thunder picked up outside. The rain seemed to be getting stronger, too. You could hear the wind howling through the chimney. For a second she thought a tornado might rip right through the cabin, take them all away into the sky. She had not seen a tornado since her youth in Kansas. But she remembered that they were full of wrath and magnificent.

“Arthur?”

“Yes.”

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“What’ll it be.”

He shook his head, very subtle, like he was dumbfounded. He placed both of his palms on her neck, held her gently behind her ears, searching with his eyes. “I still want you, Mary Beth. I ain’t lying. That ain't what this is.”

“Then take me,” she said, palming his cheeks again, very serious, drawing him. “Take me, Arthur. I want you to."

He blinked rapidly, shook out his head a little. “I can't,” he said.

“Why not?” she said.

He was incredulous. “Because I’ve made mistakes. In the past. Mistakes with women that I could not fix or rectify. I’ve hurt every woman who’s come into my life with my inability to be who she needed me to be. I won’t do that to you, too. I won’t get you pregnant and leave you to suffer my indecency alone. I won’t. I just won’t.”

She felt herself becoming frustrated now, with this. “But I know you,” she said, shaking her head. “You would never do that.”

“I have done that.”

“It ain’t the same. You told me yourself. That was more than ten years ago, and even still it wasn't like that. You know it. And I don’t need you to change, not unless you want to change. That’s not what this is about.”

“That’s always what it’s about, Mary Beth.”

“Well, I want to be with you,” she said, very matter of fact.

“No, you don’t,” he said.

“Don’t tell me what I want, Arthur Morgan. I ain't no child.”

His jaw firmed up. He nodded, resigned, looking like he’d been kicked in the stomach. “I’m sorry. I know.”

She withdrew her hands, hid them in her lap. He seemed to get the message. They weren’t touching anymore. She looked away. She felt like she might cry. Not for his rejection specifically, but because of all this stuff he was saying. She was lost for her words and didn’t wanna argue him no more. The night was full of drama. It had happened very fast. She tried to remind herself of this as she stared down at the elegant stitching of Hamish Sinclair’s late wife’s nightgown, and how it touched her skin so delicately. She closed her eyes then and tried not to be mad at Arthur Morgan.

He sighed. He was shaking his head. “I just—” He stopped himself. “Godammit. I am rightly screwing this up. That ain’t what I want.”

She still wouldn't look at him. She shook her head. She would not cry.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. "Mary Beth. Look at me."

So she did, feeling stupid. She waited on him. She said nothing, her body going limp like a ribbon. He grazed her chin with his thumb, held her face, gentle. He looked so serious, almost full of regret.

“I ain't saying no to you, Mary Beth," he said.

"Then what are you saying?"

"This is very...serious for me," he went on. "I feel a damn fool, but the truth is, I ain’t given myself to no woman in many years. I ain’t even considered—that just ain’t what I do. I am trying to be decent. I am trying to be honorable. I know I'm saying all the wrong things. That seems to be what I do, invariably, but I do not want to hurt you, Mary Beth. That is the last thing I want."

She looked at him. He had so much inside, so much he was carrying around. She didn’t feel sorry for him. Why would she? She looked up to him and she remembered who he was and who she was. She sighed “I understand,” she said, real quiet. In some way, she knew he was right. Moving too fast—that wasn’t the answer to any of their predicaments. Still, it stung a little.

“Thank you,” he said, relieved. “But you don’t have to, Mary Beth. Understand, I mean. You can just say no.”

“Be quiet, Arthur,” she said. It startled him, but in a good way. “I know I can. But I can also wait a little. You don’t need to explain no more right now. It was a bad night. We can sleep on it."

"That sounds good," he said.

"But when you feel like it, remember I'm still your friend. I'm always here to listen. No matter what.”

He smiled at this, seeming crushed by her reassurance. “Let’s go to sleep,” he said.

“Okay,” she said.

She turned the lamp down, left it on just a little. She didn’t want the loft to be full dark. The rain was big and scary. She realized then she was still a little shook from the encounter on the bluff, and with the lights out it rushed to the surface. She kept hearing things. She curled toward him beneath the heavy linen covers. He pushed the hair off her face and smoothed it down the back of her head, and then he just held her, no questions, very strong. She was glad. It was an acknowledgement, no matter how subtle. He wasn’t pretending like they’d never kissed, or like his feelings weren’t real. And her nerves and everything calmed, and she felt his muscles calming around her, which told her that it was all okay. She closed her eyes sometime after he closed his. She fell asleep to his big, even breaths, making her feel safe from harm under the rain.

That night, Arthur had another dream. But it was different this time. Instead of being inside the polar bear, he was in the woods, and he was being hunted. He thought it was the polar bear, but he did not think a polar bear had such lengths of intelligence to hunt him with such a vision of perfection. Everywhere he went to hide, either the ground was sinking underneath him, or the sky was trying to suck him into its endless void. He knew nothing of his life other the fact the was trying to get back to somebody. Somebody was waiting for him. That was all. And it was a gnawing anxiety that made his stomach hurt, and his body burn. Where the hell was he?

He woke up with a start. He sat straight up. He looked around. Mary Beth was asleep beside him, hard asleep, breathing deeply. He looked at her and  then he dropped his face into his hands, because he very much wanted to touch her, just her hair again, put it off her cheeks, go back to holding her like it was all fine. She slept so peacefully. He rubbed his eyes with vigor. His heart was still beating hard. He tried to get up but bumped his head on the ceiling which jerked him out of his half-sleeping confusion and set him right. He swore under his breath and scrubbed the place on his skull where he’d bumped it on the hard wood. Outside, it was still raining, he could hear. But it was calm. The storm had past, and now it was just showers, just water falling from the sky in a steady flow. He exhaled and decided he was thirsty. He climbed past Mary Beth and down the ladder to the kitchen. He turned up the lamp a little bit on the kitchen table, but the hearth was good light down here. He poured a bit of water from a pitcher on the counter into one of the tin mugs Mary Beth had washed in the basin. He sat down at the table and drank the whole cup of water. Then he poured another cup of water, took a long drink and nursed the rest. His face was hanging in his palm. He felt very old, very tired. He was thinking about the dream, about her. His mind was like bees buzzing. His head hurt.

There was stirring then, from behind Hamish’s curtain. Arthur looked up. Hamish himself came out, rubbing his own eyes, hobbling against a sturdy cane. He made eye contact with Arthur and then gave him a canny look, like he was unsurprised. He pushed over to the table, hauled out one of the chairs, and sat down. Then, he gestured toward the basin and let the cane lean against the table top. “Would you grab me one of them mugs?” he said. “I’m properly parched this fine evening.”

“Sure,” said Arthur. He reached without standing, picked up one of the tin mugs off the counter and then set it in front of Hamish.

Hamish poured it full of water, took a drink. Then he sighed and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “Goddam liquor,” he said.

“I know the feeling,” said Arthur.

“Sounds like the storm’s letting up,” said Hamish, looking up at the ceiling now. “Good news.”

“Yes it is.”

Hamish drank, scrubbed at his beard. Then he gave Arthur a long look, prying into him a little. “Trouble sleeping?” he said. “I hope the loft ain’t too uncomfortable. I ain’t been up there but to dust in some years.”

“The loft is fine,” said Arthur.

“What’s on your mind?”

Arthur sighed, holding his mug with two hands. “Mary Beth,” he said. He took a drink.

“What’s the problem?”

“She’s—” Arthur hesitated, glanced up to the loft. There was no disturbance. “She’s got some...expectations for me. Took me on a run for my money tonight. I’m used to expectations. But not like hers.”

“What sorts of expectations are you used to?” said Hamish.

“The stressful kind,” said Arthur, smiling in spite of himself. “Do this, do that. And mostly just—to be something I’m not. If that makes sense.”

“Oh, it does.”

“Only I don’t know that I knew too much about what I was before these last few months, and now this hunting trip, with her,” Arthur continued. “It's confusing. Now, I just—she’s up there. Asleep. We’s on uncertain terms. I ain’t seeing things too clear, Hamish. I fear that I am ruining everything.”

Hamish straightened up in his chair, flung one of his arms around the back and sort of hung there. He was thinking something over deep. He drank and set his cup down and continued to scrub at his beard thoughtfully. “What does Mary Beth expect of you?” he said. “Why are her expectations so different?”

“Because,” said Arthur. “She expects me to be…me, I guess. Or something like that. I never had no problems opening up to her. But opening up to myself, that is a whole new journey of indecision. I ain’t—I ain’t loved a woman in a long time. Last time I did, it didn’t work out. Her daddy hated me. Called me a thief, and I am a thief, but he was a whoring, drinking son of a bitch. Gambled away their money, their safety. He called me a thief.” Arthur laughed to himself. “Anyway, she loved me. I loved her. But it was always—she wanted me to change. And maybe I want to change. Maybe so. But the terms she provided, they were impossible. And we fell apart. I left. She married another man. Anyway. What I’m saying is, Mary Beth ain’t like that. She’s a thief, too, if you can believe it. Sweetest outlaw in the west. Only of course, that don’t matter. It don’t matter what she is. She just…is.” He took a deep breath. “I’m lost,” he said. “I don’t know how to be me, for her. Is there anything gotdam stupider than that? A man who don’t know who he is, who only knows how to be put upon by the things he most certainly is not.” He finished his water. He set down the cup and folded his hands on the table.

Hamish had been listening very closely. He was nodding the whole time, and he was still nodding now, taking it all in. He spoke slow now, and with great decision in his voice. “It sounds like you’ve had some difficult times,” he said, “with women.”

“Yes. I have,” he said. “I keep—failing to be the thing they need me to be. They want me. I’m strong. I’m brave. I know my way around a gun. Around the wilderness. But what they need—I can’t provide.”

“What does Mary Beth need?” said Hamish.

Arthur thought on this. He looked down at his knuckles as he so often did because they were complex weavings of past bloodshed. He thought. He thought some more. He had not thought of this. “I don’t know,” he said.

“Well, it sounds like she just needs you,” said Hamish. “Like she needs you to be…whoever you are, or whoever you want to be. You know that ain't unusual, right? You know that’s what love is. It’s needing a person for who they are. Not for what they can do for you, or for how they look, or what material life and provisions they can provide. She followed you here. It sounds like she’s followed you for a while now. Has she ever complained about the life you’ve given her?”

“No,” said Arthur, decisive. “Never.”

“Then what’s the problem?” said Hamish.

Arthur felt his throat tightening, his face feeling hot. “I don’t know.”

“Well, I do,” said Hamish.

“Then what is it?”

“The problem is, there ain’t no problem. For once, there ain’t no problem, and you’re used to solving problems, I reckon, and so now you don’t know what to do. You’re…lost.” He finished his water, poured another cup. “Let me tell you something, Mr. Morgan. If fighting in that god forsaken war taught me anything, it’s that life is short, and it’s mean. It’s ugly business. And if you find someone who you like spending your time with, and who likes spending their time with you, you ought to keep them as close as possible, for as long as possible. It’s the only thing makes life worth living. It don’t matter who they are, what they done. My wife died, and now I am alone, but I am not afraid, because I found someone I truly needed, and I knew it, and I kept her as close as possible for as long as possible. The last thing you want, Mr. Morgan, is to wake up one day, open your door, and find you’ve aged twenty years, and to look around and see no one dear to you. Because then it’s just the long, ugly earth, opening up. One day it’ll swallow you. That part is inevitable. Will you go down knowing you found the thing that you want, that you need most in life, and you held onto it with pride? Or will you go down in regret.” He lit a cigarette from his front pocket. Then, he slid one across the table to Arthur, set down a single match, and smoked. “Those are your only options, Mr. Morgan,” he said, very sure of himself. “Which will you choose?”

[reddeadgarlicbread]

All I Have - A Red Dead Redemption 2 Story - Chapter Twenty One

Requests are CLOSED while I catch up!

Synopsis:

Sage Marston is the younger sister of John Marston, member of the notorious Van Der Linde Gang. After being separated as children, John finds his sister and invites her to run away with him and the gang.

As Sage quickly becomes a member of the family and valued member of the gang, she also falls in love with the charismatic leader, Dutch Van Der Linde. But little does she know, another member of the gang is falling in love with her, as well.

How will Sage cope with being a member of the gang? And what will happen when Dutch begins to lose himself?

Dutch Van Der Linde x OC Arthur Morgan x OC

Major spoilers for RDR2

The days passed dreadfully slowly. For the first week, Sage spent her days sitting outside of the house, always keeping an eye on the road, hoping to see the boys show up. She didn’t get her wish.

Things were becoming more and more difficult at camp. The supplies and food were running low, money was tight, tensions were high, and morale was low. Everyone spent most of their days biding their time, unsure what to do without their leader and strongest members. Things were quiet at camp, but they knew they wouldn’t be for long.

Sage had just put August down for a nap when Charles approached. Charles had spent his nights sleeping in her room, which made Sage feel much more at ease. She hadn’t slept by herself since joining the gang. She gave the man a smile as he walked up to her.

“Hey, Charles,” she greeted.

“Hello,” he said. “Sage, I wanted to speak with you about something.”

“What is it?” she asked, concerned.

“You know food is running low,” he said. “Everyone will be going hungry soon. I’m going out to find some food. I was hoping you would ride with me.”

“Of course,” Sage said. “Just let me get ready.”

Charles respectfully stepped out of the room as Sage changed out of her dress and into a pair of pants and a blouse. She grabbed her rifle and bow and left the room, stopping to ask Abigail to keep an eye on August for her while she was gone. Sage met Charles over by the horses, where he was brushing Taima.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Yep,” she said, mounting Georgia and stowing away her rifle and bow. “Let’s ride.”

Charles mounted his horse, and they began their journey together. They rode for a long time in silence, enjoying the peaceful nature and taking in their surroundings. Charles always appreciated nature, something he and Sage had in common. They rode far from camp, so as not to attract attention with the gunshots. Eventually they found a quiet wooded area, far enough from any roads that Charles was sure there would be plenty of wildlife.

They dismounted their horses and began trekking through the woods on foot. They remained quiet, until Charles grabbed her by the elbow and pointed.

“There,” he said, his voice hushed. “Three deer. Let’s use the bow, we don’t want to scare off every animal for miles.”

“Charles, you know I’m no good with the bow,” Sage whispered back.

“I’ll help you.”

Sage grabbed her bow from her back, and loaded in an arrow. She held in a gasp as she suddenly felt Charles’ body against her back, his hands coming around to rest on top of hers. She could feel his heartbeat against her back, his warmth against her skin.

He guided her hands up and helped her to pull the arrow back, aiming at one of the deer.

“You want to hit it in the head or neck, for a quick kill,” he said.

He helped her aim, the arrow pointing right at the farthest deer’s neck.

“Steady,” he whispered, his lips right by her ear now. “Even breathing. Relax, Sage, I can feel you shaking.”

Sage took deep breaths, trying to steady her hands. They were getting tired from pulling back the bow, but she would be lying if she said Charles’ body pressed against hers didn’t have anything to do with it.

“Good,” he said. “Now release.”

She released the arrow, and it flew quickly, silently through the air, landing in the deer’s neck and killing it immediately. The other two deer didn’t notice. She breathed a sigh of relief.

“See? It’s not so hard,” Charles said. “Now I want you to try this next one by yourself.”

“Really?” Sage asked. “You don’t think I’ll mess up and scare them both off?”

“I think you’ve got this.”

Sage took a deep breath, then grabbed another arrow and lifted the bow once more, aiming it the way Charles had shown her. She aimed for the closest deer’s neck, pulled the arrow back, took another deep breath - and released.

The deer collapsed as the arrow hit it through the neck - not exactly where she had been aiming, but close enough to do the job. The other deer noticed this time, lifting it’s head and then running quickly through the trees.

‘I did it!’ Sage exclaimed. “Oh my god, I did it!”

Charles laughed. “You did. I’m proud of you.”

They lead Georgia and Taima over to the deer, and, one by one, Charles lifted the deer onto the back of the horses.

“I think this will do us for a little while,” Charles said. “Ready to head back to camp?”

“I’m ready.”

They mounted their horses once again and began the ride back to camp. It was beginning to get dark, the sunset painting the sky beautiful shades of orange. Sage was prepared for another quiet ride, but this time, Charles spoke.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

His voice caught her off guard, as she had been lost in her own thoughts. “What do you mean?”

“With the guys gone. Dutch. Arthur. John being in prison. How are you holding up?”

Sage sighed. “Not the greatest. But I have to be strong for August, and for the gang.”

“You’re one of the strongest women I know,” Charles said.

Sage blushed. “Well, I’m no Sadie.”

Charles laughed. “She’s something.” Things were quiet for a moment. “You shouldn’t be hard on yourself. You are strong. You have a part in holding this gang together. You’re helpful, you’re brave, good with a gun - and a bow, apparently.”

Sage laughed this time. “What’s up with the flattery?”

Charles shrugged. “I just felt like you needed to hear it.”

Sage thought for a moment. “Well, thank you.”

“Of course.”

They rode the rest of the way in silence. When they rode into camp with the deer, everyone was excited to see them - or, rather, excited to see the food. Pearson rushed over to them.

“You’ve brought food!” he exclaimed. “You’re saints, both of you.”

Pearson grabbed the deer from the back of Sage’s horse, while Charles picked up his own. Sage grabbed the rabbits they had caught. She followed the two men over to Pearson’s tent, where they dropped the animals off.

“We’ll have an excellent stew tomorrow night,” Pearson said. “We’ll have a celebration!”

Sage sighed. “I feel there’s no need for celebration while the guys are gone.”

Pearson looked at her sympathetically, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure they’ll be back, Sage.”

She wasn’t so sure.

//

August was already asleep when they returned. Sage thanked Abigail for watching him, and Abigail thanked her for bringing food back for them all.

Sage went to her room, exhausted, and changed into her sleeping gown, climbing into bed. She was still awake when Charles came in.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, quietly.

“Don’t worry, I was still up.”

“You still want me to sleep in here...with you?”

“Of course,” she said.

Charles nodded, moving to sit on his bedroll. “If you need anything, I’m here for you.”

“I know,” Sage said, smiling as she closed her eyes. “You always are.”

[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

and dogs were a universal constant, it seemed...

Fandom: Supergirl Rating: K+ Pairing(s): Kara x James Summary: Well, if you’ve seen 101 Dalmatians...

...

When there's a loud, insistent knock at the door late one Friday evening, Kara is so thoroughly convinced it's the pizza guy that she doesn't bother with x-ray vision.

So she's more than a little shocked to discover an irate neighbor in the hall.

(And, quite honestly, a little disappointed. She beat up some sentient killer tomatoes that afternoon and she's starving.)

“Oh, uh,” she blinks at the scowling woman before her. “Hi Ms. Kaplan.”

“My dog is pregnant.”

It is at that point that Kara notices Ms. Kaplan is not alone. Wrapped around one of her slender wrists is a leash and, at the end of that leash is Sadie, Ms. Kaplan's friendly (if somewhat shy) American Shepherd.

“...Congrats?” Kara doesn't really know what else to say to that...weird, random news.

“Don't play dumb!” Ms. Kaplan snaps. Kara's never been terribly...fond of Ms. Kaplan. Out of all of the building's tenants, she's definitely the most...prickly. And not in a Snapper Carr kind of way. More like a...what was the name of the woman in Wizard of Oz?

She'll Google it later. “I'm...sorry? I don't really under—” behind her, Kara can hear Krypto's nails against the hardwood as he pads through the kitchen to come investigate. His fur brushes against her leg as he tries to maneuver around her, insistent on seeing who's at the door.

Ms. Kaplan gives the two of them a pointed look.

Oh.

...Oooooh.

“Oh!” Kara exclaims, looking down at Krypto, then to Sadie, and finally back to Ms. Kaplan with wide eyes. “I...really didn't think that was possible.”

Ms. Kaplan mutters something about 'irresponsible millenials' under her breath, and crosses her arms over her chest. “Didn't you have him fixed?”

Kara winces. It was on the to-do list. Really it was. She was going to take him to the DEO this weekend, actually.

“Uh.”

“Well it's too late now anyways!” Ms. Kaplan throws her hands up, startling both the dogs and Kara. Krypto lets out a surprised wuff. “My dog's pregnant and I'm not going to be able to get anything for a bunch of mixed mutt—”

“I'lltakethem!” Kara blurts, so loud and sudden that Ms. Kaplan has to take a step back. “I mean I'll. Um. Since it's our fault and all and...I certainly wouldn't expect you to take care of them or anything...!” If Ms. Kaplan picks up on Kara's nervous energy, she doesn't say anything. Instead, she seems focused on considering Kara's offer to take the unexpected puppies off her hands.

“...Well that's only fair,” she finally says. “As this is his fault,” she glares at Krypto.

And she's not entirely wrong, what with something like that requiring two parties and all, but. Kara doesn't like her accusatory tone.

“Right! Yes. Fair. We'll do whatever we can to ah, take the burden of, um. We'll take the puppies. Let us know if you need anything! Thanks!”

“But—”

“Bye!”

Kara doesn't slam the door in Ms. Kaplan's face—it would be difficult to explain away the structural damage to the wall if she did—but she closes it with enough force to sufficiently send the message: we're done here.

“Miss Gulch!” Kara suddenly cries, finally remembering the name of the Wicked Witch of the West. James looks up from his laptop as she flops down on the bed beside him.

“So, not the pizza guy?” he surmises.

“No,” Kara mumbles into her pillow.

“What?”

She turns her head to the side so he can hear her better. “We have a problem.”

“Well, of course,” James smiles, not quite understanding. “No pizza.”

“...Okay, yes,” Kara concedes. “But also—” Krypto chooses that moment to bound into the bedroom and make a running leap onto the bed. He lands between them, all fur and limbs and drool.

“Ugh.”

“I thought we decided he wasn't allowed on the bed?” James half chuckles as Krypto settles his sizable girth right next to him, turning in tight circles and pushing his snout into the covers, pulling the blankets into a nice, rumpled mound.

“I don't see you getting up in the middle of the night pushing him off,” Kara says with a smirk. James coughs.

“...He looks so sad when we make him sleep on the floor...”

“Softie.”

James doesn't dispute the claim, rather, he changes the subject. “So what's the problem? Aside from the lack of pizza happening right now.”

“Our neighbor's dog is gonna have puppies.”

“That's...nice?” It doesn't sound like a problem to James. Kara gives him a minute. After all, she didn't get it right away either. “...Oooooooh.”

“Yeah.”

“...I didn't think that was possible.”

“Neither did I!” Kara pushes herself up onto her elbows and drops her head into her hands, running her fingers through her hair in mild frustration. “Nnnrrrg shoulda had Alex check him out. Or Eliza, maybe. Someone who knows about this...stuff.”

“I sincerely doubt your sister is going to know much about dog breeding.”

“Well, yeah, but.” Kara frowns. “They're like. The best xenobiologists on the West Coast.” Kara is inclined to add or any coast, but that's her own personal bias speaking.

“I thought your mom was an astro...something or other?”

“She's both.” Kara says.

“Ah, right.”

“I should still talk to them,” Kara realizes. James raises an eyebrow.

“I mean. Okay? But it seems a little late for—”

“In two months,” Kara interrupts him, “we're gonna have a bunch of potentially superpowered puppies running around here.”

James' opened mouth audibly snaps shut. Kara nods sagely at his reaction.

After a time, (and a short but meaningful glare in Krypto's direction) he speaks.

“Let's call Eliza.”

Ms. Kaplan is suspicious when Kara and James offer to foot the bill for a quote: 'highly sought after, exclusive vet,' and more than a little protective of Sadie, but Kara and James are very persuasive, as is Kara's...'uncle,' John.

(No, J'onn absolutely does not use his Martian mind powers, that would be unethical.)

(...Okay he maybe uses them a little.)

“Uncle. Really?”

“Well if Barry's our cousin, you can be my uncle,” Kara says, arms crossed, pacing back and forth outside of the DEO med lab. “Is it warm in here? It feels warm. Can we open a window?”

“We cannot,” J'onn tells her, and has to hide his amused smile when she mutters in displeasure and resumes pacing. James joins them, leaning against the door frame next to J'onn. He appears entirely unruffled, casually sipping coffee from a Styrofoam cup and smiling pleasantly.

“Any news?” he asks, tone nonchalant.

“...No...” J'onn squints. “Do I smell alcohol, Olsen?”

James takes a swig of...it could still be coffee, technically speaking. “You do.”

Ten minutes pass, during which Kara and James pace and drink, respectively. Kara eventually takes a seat in one of the desk chairs, resigned to an evening of anxiety.

But then Alex opens the lab door. Kara jumps up, one hand still on the arm of the chair.

“Is everything okay?”

“Everything's fine,” Alex says. “I just need...” she pauses. “James. For a sec.”

James straightens. “Yeah, sure,” he says. “Um. Can you—yeah.” He hands off his 'coffee' to J'onn, who gives the liquid a wary sniff.

“Just James?” Kara asks, “'cause, I can, you know. Help too.”

“Not when you're all worked up, you can't,” Alex challenges. Kara balks.

“What? I can, I can totally—”

“You just broke the chair.”

Kara looks down at the crushed arm.

“...Er.”

So Kara resumes her pacing, and J'onn resumes his quiet bemusement, and Alex and James resume...stuff. Dog stuff. Dog pregnancy stuff. Space dog pregnancy stuff, sort of.

And Kara gets so impatient and more than a little nervous, because Eliza had been very clear about the fact that they are in uncharted territory; there was little to no research on Kryptonian fauna, what with all fauna being presumed extinct until Krypto's pod had shown up. They had, of course, approached Alura's A.I., but that hadn't proved as helpful as they'd hoped.

“This constructs lacks sufficient data on crossbreed species,” the A.I. Explained in a flat voice, “and cannot accurately determine the chances of survival re: offspring of Kryptonian and Earth Canidae.”

Kara had spent the entire afternoon under a blanket, face pressed into the soft fur of Krypto's neck, not crying. Nope. Not her. She was toooootally fine.

(She was not.)

She's somewhat okay now, because Eliza and Alex have been working tirelessly on the science side of things, as none of them were too thrilled by the prospect of a bunch of dead puppies.

Kara shudders at the thought and taps her foot. A little too hard, because the concrete cracks.

J'onn clears his throat.

“A-hem.”

“...Sorry,” Kara says sheepishly.

J'onn's about to deliver a formal reprimand, but the med lab door suddenly opens, and three ragged humans wander out, James leading the pack.

“Can I...?” James points to the cup of coffee in J'onn's hand, extracting it before J'onn can answer.

“What is it?” Kara asks, voice cracking with panic. “What—are they okay? Did—oh no—”

“Whoa, hey, calm down,” Alex says, placing a firm, steady hand on Kara's shoulder. Kara refuses to calm down until they tell her what's going on. “Everything's fine. The dogs are okay.”

“Dogs?” Kara sounds hopeful. Eliza nods.

“Dogs. Plural.”

“That's, it's...” Kara's grin is wide and relieved and only grows wider as her excitement increases, ten-fold. “That's great!”

“Fifteen,” James says abruptly. Kara's still grinning, but her brow furrows in confusion.

“Uh. What?”

“Fifteen,” James repeats, bringing the cup to his lips.

“...Fifteen...what?” Kara's excitement is now tinged with a fair bit of...concern, is probably the best word.

Alex beats James to the punch. “Puppies.”

Kara swallows audibly.

“...Fifteen...puppies. As in—”

“A litter of fifteen puppies, yes.” James nods. “Fifteen tiny Kryptos. That we agreed to keep. In our apartment.”

The news hits Kara like a truck. Okay, no, not quite a truck, more like a mid-sized sedan. Still. The impact is enough to have her reaching behind her for the desk chair, which Eliza rolls over.

“Thanks,” she says weakly.

“Of course, sweetie.”

“It's possible they won't have powers,” Alex adds in an attempt to be helpful. “The cellular structure necessary to absorb the yellow sunlight might not be passed—” There's a crash in the med lab, followed by an annoyed wuff from Sadie. “...never mind.”

J'onn snatches the coffee from James' hand, and downs it in one quick gulp before handing the empty Styrofoam cup back to James.

“I am not paid enough for this.”

Kara steps back, and admires their handy work.

“Not bad,” she decides, beaming at James, who tears off a final piece of duct tape from the roll. Krypto's tail wags in approval, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth as he pants excitedly.

“I'm impressed,” James agrees. “It was quick thinking, on Alex's part.” He steps back as well, taking in the somewhat odd set-up they've constructed in their living room.

The furniture is all pushed aside to make room for the (mostly) circular enclosure of cannibalized dog-crate pieces; a kind of fence that surrounds a veritable sea of blankets and dog beds, which is all fairly commonplace.

It's the two large red sunlight lamps directed towards the enclosure that make for a slightly...out-of-the-ordinary tableau.

“And you're okay?” James reaches out and gently rubs Kara's arm. She nods.

“Oh, yeah. Red sunlight is fine,” she reminds him. “It's the Green K that's bad news.” She wrinkles her nose for effect.

“I thought you used Green K in the training room?” James asks over his shoulder as he moves to the kitchen to return the duct tape to the junk drawer.

“We do,” Kara admits, kneeling down to check on the zipties holding their makeshift fence together. One of the puppies sees her and waddles over, still not quite sure how to work his little legs. He trips over himself a few times before he manages to wriggle close enough to snuffle her hand through the gaps in the metal. “But it's...not very healthy, honestly. I can at least take a certain amount before it really does permanent damage...”

James frowns.

“Sounds pretty dangerous...” He grabs two mugs from the cupboard. “I'm making tea. Want some?”

“Sure.”

“Can't they use red sunlight for that too?” He waits for Kara's answer as he fills the teapot with water and turns on the stove.

Kara chuckles as the small puppy nudges her hand, and watches as Krypto edges forward to investigate. He seems to understand that this tiny white balls of fluff belong to him, but he's not sure what to make of them, really. “Not as efficiently. It takes longer, to get rid of my powers, under red sunlight.”

James' tone is level, but he grips the mugs a little tighter than is probably good for the ceramic. “But it doesn't hurt you,” he argues.

“Neither does the Green K in the training room, not really,” Kara assures him, looking over her shoulder to offer a smile, as if to say 'it's fine, I'm fine, it's all fine.' “I mean, it does, but not...” she sighs. She's not explaining it well at all, and she can tell James is upset. “It's low grade, and synthetic. And my healing factor kicks in immediately, once the emitters are turned off.”

“Mmmm.” James' frown deepens, and he presses his hands flat on the counter top, fingers slowly curling into clenched fists. “Still sounds dangerous.”

“Which is why we're not using it on small, newborn puppies,” Kara tells him in a tone that suggests they should move on from the topic. She joins him in the kitchen, wrapping him in a hug to further persuade him to end this particular conversation.

It works. He finds himself draping his arm over her shoulders, keeping his other hand free to finish making the tea.

“How long will they need the lamps?”

“Alex is still trying to figure it out,” Kara tells him. “I mean. They'll need to be trained, obviously, but...” Krypto lets out an excited yip, and they both turn to see the puppies congregated near the older dog, little pink noses twitching in delight. “Okay that...is criminally adorable.”

“I should get my camera, right?”

“Yes.”

“We can't name him Spencer.”

“Um, we can absolutely name him Spencer.”

“You have to imagine yourself yelling the name outside where other people can hear you. And possibly see you. Yelling for Spencer the dog.”

“I am imagining it, and it's a great name.”

Kara sighs. “I'll let you name that one Spencer,” she points to the ball of white fluff attempting to break free from the enclosure, “if you let me give one of them a Kryptonian name.”

“I can't pronounce those names,” James reminds her. “I can't imagine yelling it outside around other people because I physically can't make those sounds.”

“J'onn can do it,” Kara huffs.

“J'onn can alter the shape of his vocal chords,” James states.

And, as much as Kara is loathe to admit it, it's a good point.

“Alright then, we'll just,” Kara throws her hands up, “have to agree on a name.”

They stare at the unnamed puppy in question, who is vigorously gnawing on the metal. One of his brothers attempts to join him, but the pup lets out a sharp yip, along with a few high pitched gurgles that are probably meant to be growls.

He's not a bad dog, just...vocal. And ill-tempered.

James and Kara share a look.

“Snapper,” they decide.

“No.”

“But—”

“No.”

“It's just—”

“No, no. The rule is that only Krypto can sleep on the bed, we agreed on this.”

Ace paws the comforter and whines, high-pitched and pitiful.

“Kara look at him.”

“I will not.”

And she doesn't. But she does roll over and look at James, poised to tell him that's final, but he's staring back at her with pleading dark eyes and a pout that she's certain he's learned from her (dang it) and it might as well be Kryptonite, that look.

So Ace is allowed up on the bed.

“That's it, no more,” Kara declares, rolling over and maybe stealing a little more of the blankets than is strictly necessary. Ace decides he doesn't want to sleep down at the foot of the bed, next to Krypto. He much prefers right on top of Kara's head. “Oh, come on.”

“At least he'll keep you warm,” James tells her with a smirk. She grunts.

“I run five degrees hotter than humans and I can't feel cold, I don't need him to keep me warm.” She forcibly scoots Ace over so that he's perched between the two of them on the pillows.

When she once again turns to face the nightstand, she's met with a wet, black nose taking up most of her field of vision.

“Hedwig, no,” Kara says sternly.

“Oh, what's one more,” James yawns.

Well.

One more becomes two.

Then three.

By morning there are six dogs on the bed, and between the two of them, Kara and James haven't even managed five winks, let alone forty.

There's movement from beneath the pile of snoozing dogs. James, trying to turn over without toppling the Jenga tower of fluff.

“I see now, this was a bad decision.”

Hedwig's tail thumps Kara across the nose. She sputters.

“Yes. Yes, it was.”

Alex raises an eyebrow and taps the front page splash of The Tribune.

ASLEEP ON THE JOB—SUPERGIRL CAUGHT NAPPING DURING MAYOR'S PRESS CONFERENCE

“You should really talk to your PR guy.”

“I'm my PR guy,” Kara grumbles, slumping down in her chair. Or, Winn's chair. But he's got the day off, probably sleeping in.

Ah, sleeping in. Kara misses it.

“You really have to stop doing that,” Alex tells her. Kara waves her off.

“Yeah, yeah, journalistic integrity...I know.”

“Do you.”

“Al-ex.”

“Alright, alright, I can see my advice is not wanted,” she says. “My incredibly sage, scientifically-sound advice.”

“You have a way to make them stop barking?” Kara sits up and leans forward, suddenly all ears. Alex scratches her neck.

“...Well no.”

“Ugh.”

“I was just going to suggest sending James to these things instead,” Alex jabs a finger at the unflattering photo of Kara snoring her way through the speech. “I know the Guardian's costume isn't quite as photogenic as the super suit, but he's pretty high profile, now that he's dating National City's Girl of Steel.” Alex smirks at Kara's faint blush.

“Aherm. Well. That, um.” She coughs. “That hasn't been confirmed or anything.”

“There was photographic evidence, if memory serves.”

“It was a hug. And he'd almost died!”

“I know. I was there.”

And Kara's about five seconds away from speeding off to the Sierras to grab a quick handful of snow to dump down Alex's shirt, but Agent Matthews walks over, smiling pleasantly, and Kara recalls that he's quite the dog lover; she knows, she's seen pictures of his prized Yorkie, Mr. Chips.

“Soooo...puppies, huh?”

“Rrrrrgggg,” Kara drops her forehead into her right hand and grips the arm of the chair with her left. The sound of splintering plastic fills the air.

“...Broke another one,” Alex mumbles. Matthews blinks.

“...Was it something I said?”

It's easy enough to wrangle the puppies at first. They're small, and though they have most definitely inherited their father's superpowers, the red sunlight lamps keep accidents to a minimum.

But, puppies, unfortunately, grow.

“Could you just—no, no, Snapper!” Kara has to use a burst of super speed to keep Snapper from leaping out of their building in a single bound. He makes some displeased grumbling noises—foiled again—and Kara, even with her strength, struggles to keep a hold on the wriggling mass of fur that, until seemingly recently, could fit in James' shoe. Now, he's at least fifteen pounds, possibly more, and as wiggly as...something that wiggles.

“Noodles?” Kara wonders aloud. James is behind the couch, trying to coral Pluto and Gandalf.

“We're out,” James says, misunderstanding. “We're out of just about everything. Including you-know-what.”

“...C-H-E-E-S-E?” Kara asks.

“Yep.”

Well, of course they are. The only thing that goes through food quicker than Kara Danvers, apparently, is Kara Danver's dog.

Dogs.

Plural.

Fifteen dogs that are big and only going to get bigger.

“Kara, we can't keep them,” James is sprawled on the couch, trying to catch his breath and hoping it will be more successful than his earlier attempt to catch Blue, who had recently taken to hovering about three feet off the ground whenever she got excited.

“I know,” Kara groans, letting her head drop onto the back of the armchair. “I know we can't. But James,” she forces herself to sit up, because this is serious. “It's not like we can just...put them up for adoption. Look what Snapper did to my cape!” She holds up the red fabric, gesturing angrily at the shredded, drool-encrusted edge. “This is Kryptonian fabric—bullets can't go through this thing, but Snapper's teeth have no problem.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” James says, reaching under the coffee table and extracting a pile of charred papers. “Waldo's got heat vision now.”

“Ugh.”

“This is insane,” he declares as he tosses the blackened remnants of the CatCo magazine aside. He raises his hand and gestures to the apartment, which is full of snoring, slumbering dogs. They're everywhere. The floor. The couch. The bed. A sea of white fluff. Fluff that comes out in great white clumps as the pups shed their winter coats; the fur covers whatever other surfaces aren't currently occupied by dogs. “One of them is going to break something. The wall. The ceiling. Something. And we aren't going to be able to explain it, they're going to figure out we have alien dogs, which is going to lead to questions—”

Kara groans again. This is bad. She didn't think this would be so hard. She just imagined it would be like Krypto again.

But Krypto came to them already trained, and smarter than your average dog. He had powers...and the uncanny ability to know when to use said powers...and when to keep them hidden.

(It's both unnerving and very cool, in Kara's opinion.)

The puppies aren't trained, not yet, anyway. James has purchased what amounts to an entire Kindle Library of How To books, but progress is slow.

(Nonexistent.)

Though, there is one trick Kara's been working on with the dogs, and it's coming along okay...

One of the puppies pads over and hops up onto Kara's lap, uninvited, and makes herself right at home. (It's Nugget, according to the tag hanging off the red collar.) And Kara sighs, rubbing her behind her ear. This—the fact that they're just all so gosh-darned cute—makes it that much more difficult to be rational about the situation.

Krypto yawns and stretches, rising from his place at James' feet. He comes to join Kara and Nugget, resting his shaggy head on Kara's knee, looking up at her with sad, dark eyes.

It's all too easy to imagine him saying, I don't want them to go.

So Kara mutters, “I know, I know,” but she doesn't know.

She doesn't know what to do.

A rainstorm makes the decision for them, in a roundabout way. It's the most rain National City's had in years. There's flooding near the Bay, mudslides up in the hills...

And power outages, all across the city.

Kara's busy relocating waterlogged vehicles when the steady buzz of energy that runs through the city goes quiet, creating a blank space in the background noise she constantly has to filter.

She starts, head whipping up to see that, indeed, the buildings have gone dark.

“...Oh no,” she says. The guy in the car frowns.

“What? Is something—is my car gonna be okay?”

She rushes through the rest as fast as she can without breaking the sound barrier, and speeds home, not even bothering with the window, she just...crashes right through.

It's dark inside, the red sunlight lamps off.

And the dogs are gone.

Kara's head whips around and sure enough, just as there is a vaguely Kara-shaped hole in the window closest to the door, there are several vaguely dog-shaped openings in the other windows.

“Crap!”

Kara receives a total of four frantic phone calls—one from James, one from Alex, one from Winn, and one from J'onn. (Though. J'onn's isn't so much 'frantic' as it is 'rife with barely-contained rage.')

“I'm seeing reports of a plague of alien dogs, menacing the downtown area,” Kara can hear J'onn's jaw creak, it's clenched so tight.

“I'm on it, I'm on it!” Kara tells him, racing across the city as fast as she can manage in the rain.

“I'm sending a team—”

“No!” she cries, sputtering somewhat when a gust of wind sends a spray of water in her direction. “No, no I—I've got it handled. Really.”

“Kara—”

“Yup already rounding them up don't need any backup bye!” she hangs up abruptly, and she is guilty about it, but she really doesn't want J'onn to send a team.

A team means guns.

Loaded with Kryptonite.

And Kara doesn't think it's come to that. It won't come to that, if she can help it.

James, Alex, and Winn are already downtown—she can see Alex's  dark green jacket—darker, thanks to the rain—in a sea of frenzied National City citizens. Alex remains unmoved, though, not at all disturbed by the fact that there's a group of dogs flying around overhead, occasionally shooting lasers from their eyes.

“Do we have a plan?” Alex asks as soon as Kara touches down beside her.

Kara frowns.

“I thought you'd have a plan.”

“Kara, this—” her statement is punctuated by a small explosion across the way, and a flurry of sparks that light the darkening night sky, “is very much outside of my wheelhouse.”

“It's not,” Kara argues, simultaneously helping to direct the crowd away from the destruction. “They're just like a bunch of Fort Rozz escapees. Kind of. Sort of. That's totally in your wheelhouse.”

“Fort Rozz escapees don't usually chase cats,” Alex counters. “And you know how we take down Fort Rozz prisoners. It's not the same.”

“...No, it's not,” Kara agrees, mostly under her breath. James runs over, panting beneath his helmet, one soggy dog tucked under his arm. Alex and Kara both look impressed.

“...I had half a BLT left over from lunch,” he explains, holding up a ziplock bag with the sandwich inside. The puppy in his arms squirms eagerly, licking his lips.

“That's—”

Another dog barrels into James from behind, drawn by the scent of bacon, and sends James sprawling across the pavement. The puppy—Kara's pretty sure it's Waldo—falls from his grip.

“Grab him!”

“I'm trying!”

“They're—”

Kara doesn't finish her thought, because sudden nausea rises in her throat, and her vision goes dark at the edges.

Kryptonite.

She staggers back, but doesn't fall to her knees. It's Green K, yes, but not the real stuff.  This doesn't stop Alex from rushing over, slipping on the wet pavement as she does so. The two dogs whine and duck their heads, tails falling between their legs.

And Kara mentally runs through the list of people who could possibly have Kryptonite; it's short, because it would have to be someone with access to the synthetic formula. Max Lord, maybe?

“Supergirl.”

Not Max Lord, but. An old mutual acquaintance, kind of.

“Reactron,” James wheezes as he struggles to stand. Kara looks over, vision dangerously blurred. He's hovering a few feet away, sporting a new chest piece that emits a faint, sickly-green glow.

Alex draws her weapon and fires, but the bullets bounce of his metal armor. Kara watches as he aims his gauntlets in Alex's direction.

“No!” She shoves Alex out of the way, and the green lightning arcs through the air before connecting with her shoulder, hot and sharp as it surges through her system. One of the dogs yelps, Reactron cackles, and before she loses consciousness on the cold, wet pavement, she grits out, “That's such a stupid name.”

Ben Krull doesn't know why CADMUS wants a bunch of alien dogs, nor does Ben Krull particularly care. Ben Krull just wants the missing piece of the suit that will allow him to break ties with these anti-alien nutjobs and get back to more important things, like enacting revenge on Superman.

(See, he's not so much anti-alien as he is anti-Supers. He'd hate them regardless of which planet they came from, he's pretty sure.)

“Do you have the dogs?”

“Do you have my tech?”

“We'll deal with payment after we check the cargo.”

“You'll deal with it now,” Krull snaps, “Because the only way these dogs stay powerless is if I stay close. No tech, no help from me, and you can handle a bunch of superpowered mutts on your own.”

The CADMUS goons don't like this, of course, but they aren't really in a position to argue. The tallest of the bunch hands over a metal case, and Krull makes sure to check the contents before he moves to stand next to the van, giving a nod to the CADMUS guys. He's ready.

They open the van, and call the dogs. None of them are eager to obey, however. Most of them cower in the far end of the vehicle; as far away from the unfamiliar-smelling strangers and odd glowing man as possible.

“Come on, move. Move,” Krull tells them. They don't budge, forcing the hired muscle to actually climb in and physically remove them. “Hurry up!”

He goes to grab one of them, in the hopes of speeding this venture along, but before he can grip the collar, another dog rushes forward, barking madly, jaw snapping.

“Rowf!”

Sharp teeth sink into the exposed bit of skin just above Krull's gauntlet on his forearm. He seethes.

“Damn it!” He yanks his arm back violently, pulling the dog along with him. It's a snarling, snapping mess of teeth and drool, and now the other dogs are barking too.

“Shut up!”

“Keep them quiet!”

“Get off of me you dumb—” Krull raises his fist, and is about to bring it down on the dog's skull.

But a vice-like grip on his wrist puts an immediate end to that plan.

“Don't. Touch. My dog.”

And then it's Krull who receives a fist to the face, as Supergirl sends him flying across the warehouse floor.  

WHAM.

The dogs start in with a chorus of approving yips, and Kara smiles as she kneels down and gathers up Snapper in her arms.

“Aw, who's a good boy, huh? Taking down that dumb ol' Krull? You're a good boy, yes you are!” Snapper puts on a wide doggy grin, and happily slobbers all over the side of Kara's face. “...gross...” she whispers.

The reunion doesn't last long, unfortunately, because Krull forces himself to his feet.

“Not a smart move,” he wipes the blood from his split lip and coughs, a shaking hand reaching up to tap a button on his chest plate. “Or did you just forget about the Green K in my suit?”

The faint green glow is no longer faint; the suit hums menacingly and green sparks spill from cracks in the metal. The mild fatigue that Kara's felt since entering the building is replaced by a wave of familiar nausea that only grows worse as Krull steps closer.

Kara struggles not to gag.

“Didn't—f-forget—” she heaves, and points to something behind Krull's back. He doesn't immediately turn, though, certain it's just an attempt to distract him.

But then someone taps his shoulder, and he has no choice but to whirl to face...

The...Guardsman? The G...something or other. He didn't really read the newspaper, when he was in prison.

“Wha—”

Whoever he is, he grips the casing on Krull's chest piece and pries it off in one swift yank. The small lump of Green K pulses brightly, and behind them, the dogs howl. “No!”

But Krull isn't fast enough to stop the vigilante from extracting the Green K, which he tosses to a woman with short dark hair, dressed in black tac gear.

“Got it!”

“Good.” What feels like a boot connects squarely with his tailbone, and he's once again thrown through the air. This time, though, when he slams down on the pavement, he groans, and doesn't move.

“Nice,” James says, holding up his hand to give Kara a high five. She obliges, and then has to lean forward to catch her breath.

“I—thanks, but let me just...hooo boy.”

“Are you—”

“I'm fine, I'm good. I—see? Told you that synthetic stuff doesn't hurt me.” She puts on what she hopes looks like an unaffected smile, though she's quite clearly still a little unsteady on her feet. James laughs.

“Right.”

“A-hem.”

They turn to see a handful of CADMUS lackeys surrounding them. Oh, right. Kara had momentarily forgotten they were there.

“You want me to handle them?” James offers. Kara shakes her head.

“I wanna try something out,” she tells him, and gives a sharp whistle. All of the dogs' ears perk up, their eyes bright and attentive, now that the awful green rock has been put away.

The CADMUS goons shift nervously, and Kara grins.

“Alright guys...fetch.”

Only about four of the dogs actually get the command right, but four superpowered puppies prove more than capable of taking down some mid-level grunts.

(The rest kind of just run in circles and wag their tails, much to Kara's embarrassment.)

“That was...impressive,” J'onn says as he surveys the scene. A team of DEO agents help to cart away the moaning henchmen, and a special team works on containing Krull, who's still out cold. “Odd, but. Impressive.”

“There's a lot of stimuli, threw off their focus,” Kara says, only a little defensively, from her place on the ground, surrounded by their furry brood. “If we had some cheese, maybe...?”

Just saying the word is enough to set the dogs off, barking madly, straining on their Nth metal leashes, and James groans.

“Kara.”

“Sorry!”

“Now they think they're getting...C-H-E-E-S-E.”

“I know, I know.”

“Look. Look at their little disappointed faces.”

“Make me feel WORSE, why don't you...”

J'onn clears his throat.

“I...wasn't finished.”

“Oh,” Kara blinks. “Sorry, J'onn.” She gets the dogs to quiet down, and soon enough, the whole group is looking expectantly at the Director.

“I was going to say,” J'onn gives the dogs an appraising look, “that with the proper training, these dogs...would make quite a formidable team.”

“Well, yeah,” Kara says. “Have you seen Krypto in action? Imagine fifteen super dogs, rushing in to save the day.” Krypto hears his name and wuffs, and James reaches down to give his ear a scratch.

“Yeah, you're a good boy...”

“And, I mean, we're trying,” Kara continues, “but between work and DEO stuff and making sure they don't chew through the brick, it's kind of...” she huffs. “Slow going, the...training.”

J'onn nods, understanding their plight, but he smiles knowingly.

“I think I have a solution.”

(Ben Krull is put back in prison. No one sits at his table in the cafeteria.

“That lowlife kidnaps dogs,” the Atomic Skull hisses. Chemo shakes his head in disapproval.

“Truly a monster.”)

“Oh-HO that is sharp.”

James whistles in appreciation as fifteen DEO agents file out onto the floor with fifteen fluffy, white dogs in tow, each sporting a black harness with DEO K9 DIVISION embroidered proudly on the side in bright white thread above the DEO seal.

Winn grins.

“I designed them.”

Kara reluctantly admits that they do look good, though she still thinks the House of El coat of arms would look even better.

“You're biased,” Alex tells her.

“Only a little.”

Winn looks downright smug as he returns her repaired cape to her, along with a smaller parcel, wrapped in butcher paper.

“I designed that too,” and Kara laughs when she opens it, revealing a smaller cape with the familiar not-an-S emblazoned in bright yellow across the back.

“Aw, Winn.” She thanks him and gives him a hug while James snaps the cape into place on Krypto's collar.

“That's pretty sharp too,” he decides. “Nice work, man.”

Winn takes a seat in his chair, careful to mind the duct-taped arms. “No problemo, happy to be of service, ready to provide a super suit anytime, any place.” He throws in some finger guns at the end of his statement, prompting an eye roll from Alex.

“Pssh.”

“If you four are done?” J'onn raises an eyebrow, and waits for them to settle down. “I have new recruits to train.” He strides out to meet the dogs, and Kara immediately follows.

“Oh, I wanna see this,” she says.

“Me too,” Alex and James both chime in.

“Pass,” Winn says. “Overwatch DLC is callin' my name.”

So the three stand off to one side to observe J'onn as he takes his place at the front of the 'pack,' as it were, hands crossed behind his back, face settled into its usual stern, steady expression.

“Aw, this is adorable,” Agent Matthews happens to be walking by, stack of paperwork under his arm. “I might have to take a picture. For the 'gram, you know.”

“...No one calls it that,” Alex is inclined to point out, but Matthews pays no attention. He pulls out his iPhone, and waits for a break in J'onn's speech before stepping forward.

“Can I grab a quick picture, Sir?”

Perhaps, once upon a time, J'onn would have said no. But in a post-Kara-and-Winn-at-the-DEO world, J'onn doesn't even put up a fight.

“Fine.”

Matthews beams, and adjusts the focus on his phone.

“Say—” four pairs of eyes widen as they realize what's about to come next.

“No, wait—!”

“—cheese!”

Thirty ears twitch and within seconds, the DEO is full of flailing dogs, tails wagging so hard that papers are flying off of desks, and the barking so loud that the computer monitors crack. Handlers attempt to restore order, but the pups are having none of that.

Krypto sits at Kara's feet and practically beams with pride. Those are my kids, he seems to say.

And Kara, Alex, and James can't help but laugh, because J'onn's new elite team of K9 alien hunters is tearing up the top secret government facility over snacks.

“Did I ever tell you the kryptonian word for 'dog?'” Kara asks James, still watching the ridiculous event unfold with a wry grin.

“No,” James hides his laughter behind his raised fist. “You didn't.”

“It's 'fun.'”

Notes:

- The internet says that last thing is true. - Krull came across more like his comics counterpart, so perhaps a little OOC for the show universe, apologies. - All of the dogs’ names, because why not.

Snapper Pluto Hal Blue Ace Nugget Waldo Hedwig Sadie Jr. Krypto Jr. Artax Gandalf Snuffaluffagus or ‘Gus’ Penny Kodak

[mirelaloveworld]

My comrades informed

Considered one of my comrades knowledgeable him how issues stood, saying, “ Such an one hath positively resolved to spend the rest of his life in devotion, and to look at silence ; comply with his instance, in case you are ready and hold him firm.” He replied, “ I swear by the nice God, and by our lengthy uninterrupted friendship, that I’ll neither breathe nor stir a step till he hath answered along with his accustomed freedom ; for it’s folly to misery our associates, when an thoughtless oath could be simply expiated. It’s opposite to justice, and reverse to the emotions of the clever, that the sword of Alee ought to stay within the scabbard, or that the tongue of Sady ought to cleave to the roof of the mouth. To what shall be likened the tongue in a person’s mouth ? It’s the key of the treasury of knowledge: when the door is shut, who can uncover whether or not he offers in jewels Slier in small wares ? Though, within the estimation of the clever, silence is commendable, but at a correct season free speech is preferable. Two issues point out an obscure understanding: to be silent once we must converse, and to talk once we needs to be silent.”

Restrain my tongue froirwspeaking

To be temporary: I used to be not in a position to restrain my tongue froirwspeaking to him: I believed it inhuman to show my face from him, as a result of he was an agreeable and honest pal. Whenever you decide to combat, make sure both that you’re stronger than your adversary, or that you’ve a swifter pair of heels. Thus by means of necessity I spoke, and went overseas in good humour. It was the season of spring, the air was temperate and the rose in full bloom. The vestments of the timber resembled the festive clothes of the lucky. It was midspring, when the nightingales have been chanting from the pulpits of the branches ; the rose decked with pearly dew, like blushes on the cheek of a chiding mistress. It occurred as soon as that I used to be benighted in a backyard in firm with considered one of my associates.

The spot was pleasant, the timber interwined ; you’d have mentioned that the earth was bedecked with glass spangles, and that the knot of the Pleiades was suspended from the department of the vine. A backyard with a working stream, and timber from whence birds have been warbling melodious strains ; that full of tulips of assorted hues, these loaded with fruits of a number of sorts. Below the shade of its timber the zephyr had unfold the variegated carpet.

Within the morning, when the need to return residence overcame our inclination for remaining, I noticed in his lap a group of roses, odoriferous herbs, and hyacinths, which he had meant to hold to city. I mentioned, “You aren’t ignorant that the flower of the backyard quickly fadeth, and that the enjoyment of the rose-bush is however of a brief continuance ; and the sages have declared, that the guts ought to not be set upon something that’s transitory.” He requested, “ What course is then to be pursued?” I replied, “ I’m able to kind a ebook of roses, which can delight the beholders and gratify those that are current, whose leaves the tyrannic arm of the autumnal blasts can by no means have an effect on, nor injure the blossoms of its spring.

[mirelaistanbul]

My comrades informed

Considered one of my comrades knowledgeable him how issues stood, saying, “ Such an one hath positively resolved to spend the rest of his life in devotion, and to look at silence ; comply with his instance, in case you are ready and hold him firm.” He replied, “ I swear by the nice God, and by our lengthy uninterrupted friendship, that I’ll neither breathe nor stir a step till he hath answered along with his accustomed freedom ; for it’s folly to misery our associates, when an thoughtless oath could be simply expiated. It’s opposite to justice, and reverse to the emotions of the clever, that the sword of Alee ought to stay within the scabbard, or that the tongue of Sady ought to cleave to the roof of the mouth. To what shall be likened the tongue in a person’s mouth ? It’s the key of the treasury of knowledge: when the door is shut, who can uncover whether or not he offers in jewels Slier in small wares ? Though, within the estimation of the clever, silence is commendable, but at a correct season free speech is preferable. Two issues point out an obscure understanding: to be silent once we must converse, and to talk once we needs to be silent.”

Restrain my tongue froirwspeaking

To be temporary: I used to be not in a position to restrain my tongue froirwspeaking to him: I believed it inhuman to show my face from him, as a result of he was an agreeable and honest pal. Whenever you decide to combat, make sure both that you’re stronger than your adversary, or that you’ve a swifter pair of heels. Thus by means of necessity I spoke, and went overseas in good humour. It was the season of spring, the air was temperate and the rose in full bloom. The vestments of the timber resembled the festive clothes of the lucky. It was midspring, when the nightingales have been chanting from the pulpits of the branches ; the rose decked with pearly dew, like blushes on the cheek of a chiding mistress. It occurred as soon as that I used to be benighted in a backyard in firm with considered one of my associates.

The spot was pleasant, the timber interwined ; you’d have mentioned that the earth was bedecked with glass spangles, and that the knot of the Pleiades was suspended from the department of the vine. A backyard with a working stream, and timber from whence birds have been warbling melodious strains ; that full of tulips of assorted hues, these loaded with fruits of a number of sorts. Below the shade of its timber the zephyr had unfold the variegated carpet.

Within the morning, when the need to return residence overcame our inclination for remaining, I noticed in his lap a group of roses, odoriferous herbs, and hyacinths, which he had meant to hold to city. I mentioned, “You aren’t ignorant that the flower of the backyard quickly fadeth, and that the enjoyment of the rose-bush is however of a brief continuance ; and the sages have declared, that the guts ought to not be set upon something that’s transitory.” He requested, “ What course is then to be pursued?” I replied, “ I’m able to kind a ebook of roses, which can delight the beholders and gratify those that are current, whose leaves the tyrannic arm of the autumnal blasts can by no means have an effect on, nor injure the blossoms of its spring.

[ladykazanlak]

My comrades informed

Certainly one of my comrades knowledgeable him how issues stood, saying, “ Such an one hath positively resolved to spend the rest of his life in devotion, and to watch silence ; observe his instance, in case you are in a position and maintain him firm.” He replied, “ I swear by the good God, and by our lengthy uninterrupted friendship, that I’ll neither breathe nor stir a step till he hath answered together with his accustomed freedom ; for it’s folly to misery our buddies, when an thoughtless oath may be simply expiated. It’s opposite to justice, and reverse to the emotions of the clever, that the sword of Alee ought to stay within the scabbard, or that the tongue of Sady ought to cleave to the roof of the mouth. To what shall be likened the tongue in a person’s mouth ? It’s the key of the treasury of knowledge: when the door is shut, who can uncover whether or not he offers in jewels Slier in small wares ? Though, within the estimation of the clever, silence is commendable, but at a correct season free speech is preferable. Two issues point out an obscure understanding: to be silent after we must converse, and to talk after we must be silent.”

Restrain my tongue froirwspeaking

To be temporary: I used to be not capable of restrain my tongue froirwspeaking to him: I assumed it inhuman to show my face from him, as a result of he was an agreeable and honest good friend. While you decide to combat, make certain both that you’re stronger than your adversary, or that you’ve a swifter pair of heels. Thus by way of necessity I spoke, and went overseas in good humour. It was the season of spring, the air was temperate and the rose in full bloom. The vestments of the timber resembled the festive clothes of the lucky. It was midspring, when the nightingales have been chanting from the pulpits of the branches ; the rose decked with pearly dew, like blushes on the cheek of a chiding mistress. It occurred as soon as that I used to be benighted in a backyard in firm with one among my buddies.

The spot was pleasant, the timber interwined ; you’ll have stated that the earth was bedecked with glass spangles, and that the knot of the Pleiades was suspended from the department of the vine. A backyard with a working stream, and timber from whence birds have been warbling melodious strains ; that full of tulips of assorted hues, these loaded with fruits of a number of varieties. Beneath the shade of its timber the zephyr had unfold the variegated carpet.

Within the morning, when the need to return house overcame our inclination for remaining, I noticed in his lap a group of roses, odoriferous herbs, and hyacinths, which he had supposed to hold to city. I stated, “You aren’t ignorant that the flower of the backyard quickly fadeth, and that the enjoyment of the rose-bush is however of a brief continuance ; and the sages have declared, that the center ought to not be set upon something that’s transitory.” He requested, “ What course is then to be pursued?” I replied, “ I’m able to kind a e book of roses, which can delight the beholders and gratify those that are current, whose leaves the tyrannic arm of the autumnal blasts can by no means have an effect on, nor injure the blossoms of its spring.

[paradisesc]

My comrades knowledgeable

One in every of my comrades knowledgeable him how issues stood, saying, “ Such an one hath positively resolved to spend the rest of his life in devotion, and to watch silence ; observe his instance, if you’re ready and preserve him firm.” He replied, “ I swear by the nice God, and by our lengthy uninterrupted friendship, that I’ll neither breathe nor stir a step till he hath answered along with his accustomed freedom ; for it’s folly to misery our associates, when an thoughtless oath may be simply expiated. It’s opposite to justice, and reverse to the emotions of the clever, that the sword of Alee ought to stay within the scabbard, or that the tongue of Sady ought to cleave to the roof of the mouth. To what shall be likened the tongue in a person’s mouth ? It’s the key of the treasury of knowledge: when the door is shut, who can uncover whether or not he offers in jewels Slier in small wares ? Though, within the estimation of the clever, silence is commendable, but at a correct season free speech is preferable. Two issues point out an obscure understanding: to be silent once we should converse, and to talk once we ought to be silent.”

Restrain my tongue froirwspeaking

To be transient: I used to be not capable of restrain my tongue froirwspeaking to him: I believed it inhuman to show my face from him, as a result of he was an agreeable and honest pal. While you decide to struggle, make sure both that you’re stronger than your adversary, or that you’ve a swifter pair of heels. Thus by way of necessity I spoke, and went overseas in good humour. It was the season of spring, the air was temperate and the rose in full bloom. The vestments of the bushes resembled the festive clothes of the lucky. It was midspring, when the nightingales had been chanting from the pulpits of the branches ; the rose decked with pearly dew, like blushes on the cheek of a chiding mistress. It occurred as soon as that I used to be benighted in a backyard in firm with one among my associates.

The spot was pleasant, the bushes interwined ; you’ll have mentioned that the earth was bedecked with glass spangles, and that the knot of the Pleiades was suspended from the department of the vine. A backyard with a operating stream, and bushes from whence birds had been warbling melodious strains ; that crammed with tulips of assorted hues, these loaded with fruits of a number of varieties. Underneath the shade of its bushes the zephyr had unfold the variegated carpet.

Within the morning, when the need to return dwelling overcame our inclination for remaining, I noticed in his lap a set of roses, odoriferous herbs, and hyacinths, which he had meant to hold to city. I mentioned, “You aren’t ignorant that the flower of the backyard quickly fadeth, and that the enjoyment of the rose-bush is however of a brief continuance ; and the sages have declared, that the center ought to not be set upon something that’s transitory.” He requested, “ What course is then to be pursued?” I replied, “ I’m able to kind a ebook of roses, which can delight the beholders and gratify those that are current, whose leaves the tyrannic arm of the autumnal blasts can by no means have an effect on, nor injure the blossoms of its spring.

[heartmylifes]

My comrades informed

One in every of my comrades knowledgeable him how issues stood, saying, “ Such an one hath positively resolved to spend the rest of his life in devotion, and to look at silence ; observe his instance, in case you are in a position and hold him firm.” He replied, “ I swear by the nice God, and by our lengthy uninterrupted friendship, that I’ll neither breathe nor stir a step till he hath answered together with his accustomed freedom ; for it’s folly to misery our mates, when an thoughtless oath will be simply expiated. It’s opposite to justice, and reverse to the emotions of the sensible, that the sword of Alee ought to stay within the scabbard, or that the tongue of Sady ought to cleave to the roof of the mouth. To what shall be likened the tongue in a person’s mouth ? It’s the key of the treasury of knowledge: when the door is shut, who can uncover whether or not he offers in jewels Slier in small wares ? Though, within the estimation of the sensible, silence is commendable, but at a correct season free speech is preferable. Two issues point out an obscure understanding: to be silent once we should converse, and to talk once we ought to be silent.”

Restrain my tongue froirwspeaking

To be temporary: I used to be not in a position to restrain my tongue froirwspeaking to him: I assumed it inhuman to show my face from him, as a result of he was an agreeable and honest pal. If you decide to combat, be certain both that you’re stronger than your adversary, or that you’ve got a swifter pair of heels. Thus by way of necessity I spoke, and went overseas in good humour. It was the season of spring, the air was temperate and the rose in full bloom. The vestments of the timber resembled the festive clothes of the lucky. It was midspring, when the nightingales have been chanting from the pulpits of the branches ; the rose decked with pearly dew, like blushes on the cheek of a chiding mistress. It occurred as soon as that I used to be benighted in a backyard in firm with one in every of my mates.

The spot was pleasant, the timber interwined ; you’ll have mentioned that the earth was bedecked with glass spangles, and that the knot of the Pleiades was suspended from the department of the vine. A backyard with a working stream, and timber from whence birds have been warbling melodious strains ; that stuffed with tulips of varied hues, these loaded with fruits of a number of sorts. Below the shade of its timber the zephyr had unfold the variegated carpet.

Within the morning, when the will to return house overcame our inclination for remaining, I noticed in his lap a group of roses, odoriferous herbs, and hyacinths, which he had meant to hold to city. I mentioned, “You aren’t ignorant that the flower of the backyard quickly fadeth, and that the enjoyment of the rose-bush is however of a brief continuance ; and the sages have declared, that the center ought to not be set upon something that’s transitory.” He requested, “ What course is then to be pursued?” I replied, “ I’m able to type a guide of roses, which can delight the beholders and gratify those that are current, whose leaves the tyrannic arm of the autumnal blasts can by no means have an effect on, nor injure the blossoms of its spring.

[guidevasilka]

My comrades informed

One in every of my comrades knowledgeable him how issues stood, saying, “ Such an one hath positively resolved to spend the rest of his life in devotion, and to look at silence ; observe his instance, in case you are in a position and hold him firm.” He replied, “ I swear by the nice God, and by our lengthy uninterrupted friendship, that I’ll neither breathe nor stir a step till he hath answered together with his accustomed freedom ; for it’s folly to misery our mates, when an thoughtless oath will be simply expiated. It’s opposite to justice, and reverse to the emotions of the sensible, that the sword of Alee ought to stay within the scabbard, or that the tongue of Sady ought to cleave to the roof of the mouth. To what shall be likened the tongue in a person’s mouth ? It’s the key of the treasury of knowledge: when the door is shut, who can uncover whether or not he offers in jewels Slier in small wares ? Though, within the estimation of the sensible, silence is commendable, but at a correct season free speech is preferable. Two issues point out an obscure understanding: to be silent once we should converse, and to talk once we ought to be silent.”

Restrain my tongue froirwspeaking

To be temporary: I used to be not in a position to restrain my tongue froirwspeaking to him: I assumed it inhuman to show my face from him, as a result of he was an agreeable and honest pal. If you decide to combat, be certain both that you’re stronger than your adversary, or that you’ve got a swifter pair of heels. Thus by way of necessity I spoke, and went overseas in good humour. It was the season of spring, the air was temperate and the rose in full bloom. The vestments of the timber resembled the festive clothes of the lucky. It was midspring, when the nightingales have been chanting from the pulpits of the branches ; the rose decked with pearly dew, like blushes on the cheek of a chiding mistress. It occurred as soon as that I used to be benighted in a backyard in firm with one in every of my mates.

The spot was pleasant, the timber interwined ; you’ll have mentioned that the earth was bedecked with glass spangles, and that the knot of the Pleiades was suspended from the department of the vine. A backyard with a working stream, and timber from whence birds have been warbling melodious strains ; that stuffed with tulips of varied hues, these loaded with fruits of a number of sorts. Below the shade of its timber the zephyr had unfold the variegated carpet.

Within the morning, when the will to return house overcame our inclination for remaining, I noticed in his lap a group of roses, odoriferous herbs, and hyacinths, which he had meant to hold to city. I mentioned, “You aren’t ignorant that the flower of the backyard quickly fadeth, and that the enjoyment of the rose-bush is however of a brief continuance ; and the sages have declared, that the center ought to not be set upon something that’s transitory.” He requested, “ What course is then to be pursued?” I replied, “ I’m able to type a guide of roses, which can delight the beholders and gratify those that are current, whose leaves the tyrannic arm of the autumnal blasts can by no means have an effect on, nor injure the blossoms of its spring.