#5 second water hack | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pearynice · 6 months ago

Text

5+1 Things

5 times Steve Harrington asks for a light and 1 time he doesn't need to

For @sidekick-hero for her BIRTHDAY 🥰 (I hope it's a fantastic one!)

Or read here on Ao3

It’s been six months since Eddie’s had a cigarette.

It’s the longest time he’s gone without one since he was 14, when he tried it thinking: this is what musicians do. Thinking he’ll write songs with nicotine stained fingers and smoke outside of music venues looking mysterious and unattainable. He also thought it would help him get that scratchy note to his voice that didn’t come naturally to a kid whose voice hadn’t even dropped.

It didn’t do that, of course. All it really got him, in the end, was a hacking cough and the inability to walk up a flight of stairs without wheezing. It got him yellow nails and brittle hair and cravings so bad they made him fucking itch—so he quit.

It’s the goddamn hardest thing he’s ever done. Nicotine is a bitch, apparently, and this might be the fifth time he’s promised himself he’s done, but it’s also the longest he’s managed to stick to it.

He hopes this time will stick.

He still carries his lighter around in his pocket, the thing hanging on like a vestigial limb, hard metal that he can never seem to separate himself from.

At least the lighter can’t kill him, and he likes the weight of it, even though it can’t be more than a couple of ounces. He feels off balance without it, a mental barricade more than anything else, sure, but to go without it makes him anxious. It makes him itch for what he’s denied himself for months, now—so he keeps it.

He likes to fidget with it. He likes to run his thumb along the trigger and hear the catch and the ignition, likes to feel the heat of the flame before extinguishing it again. It’s why he still takes his lunch breaks outside, because the sprinklers in the break room probably wouldn’t appreciate his habit too much.

The sun and sky, though, don’t give a shit.

He’s finished his sandwich, the peel of his eaten orange weighing down the empty bag of it, and he continues parsing through the Silmarillion. The prose is unfortunately completely fucking eye-watering, especially compared to the Hobbit, and despite his love for Middle Earth he still barely graduated high school, and he still doesn’t understand the blue wizards—

“Can I borrow a light?”

Eddie jerks from his reverie of Morgoth and Númenor and the Silmarils to find himself back on earth, with the new guy from sales looking quite pleadingly at Eddie’s lighter.

“Oh,” he jerks a little, like after a whole three seconds of processing he’s just realized the thing the guy is asking him for is, in fact, in his hand. “Sure.” He hands it over, and their fingers brush, and Eddie tries very hard not to let his hand linger.

“Thanks.” New-guy’s lips quirk, a small thing, barely there and yet Eddie feels it zing right down to his toes, the moles on his cheeks scrunching under just that twitch of his lips.

Eddie watches as new-guy shakes out a cigarette, holding it between his lips as he lights it.

Eddie tries not to stare.

He does anyway.

New-guy’s lips curl around the end, his cheeks hollowing around his inhale, and Eddie can’t take his eyes away from the two moles on the side of his neck, the way they move over flexing muscles before they disappear under a lungful of smoke.

“I think I might’ve lost mine in the parking lot,” new-guy explains, “didn’t realize until just now.” He says it like an apology, his face tilted down like he’s sorry for the inconvenience, and flicks the tiny bit of ash that’s already accumulated off the end.

“S’alright,” Eddie rushes, “anytime.”

New-guy’s smile grows, lines around his eyes appearing like the force of his grin is too much for his lips to bear all on their own, like his whole face has no choice but to express with them.

Eddie feels warm all the way down to the ends of his toes.

“Steve,” new-guy says, extending his hand. “I’m in sales.”

Eddie does not tell Steve he already knows this, having cornered Chrissy in the break room just last week to demand everything she knew about the new guy, which, admittedly, wasn’t even his name.

“Eddie.” He grabs Steve’s hand. Shakes it. “I’m in IT.”

This time, before he drops Steve’s hand, he lets it linger.

Eddie doesn’t really expect it to happen again.

He’s not trying to be dramatic when he says that good things don’t happen to him, but—

Good things don’t really happen to him. Not as good as very cute guys with very pretty laughs talking to him being anything more than a fluke.

But then, a week later, Steve shows up again.

He looks just as sheepish as before. He blinks up at Eddie through heavy lashes and asks to borrow a light, saying he’s sorry after he uses it too, and Eddie, just like before, promises anytime.

And maybe Eddie nudges the chair next to him a little, just to know if he’s reading things wrong, but Steve sits down. He sits and he stays and he smiles when Eddie talks and being next to Steve feels comfortable in a way Eddie doesn’t have much experience with, in that Steve’s presence feels like a reprieve. It feels like a bubble away from work and worries and every time he gets Steve to laugh it feels like a victory and every time Steve leans forward to hear him better Eddie feels warm all the way through his chest and every time Eddie goes outside to take his lunch he hopes against hope that Steve will be out there too.

They quickly become his favorite days.

They quickly become more and more frequent.

Sometimes Steve sits and talks and dozens of minutes will go by without even asking for a light and try as Eddie might to not to read into it, it feels like it means something.

Eddie’s never really given a shit about sports but he finds himself googling the Hoosiers and the Colts just so he can know what Steve’s talking about. He finds himself checking the scores to know what kind of day Steve’s going to have, finds himself packing an extra pudding cup when the Hoosiers had a particularly rough night.

He finds that Steve starts doing the same.

“I know what that means.” Steve says it smug, a self-satisfied little smile on his face like knowing what Eddie’s pin is referring to is a gotcha.

It makes Eddie want to run around in circles.

He looks down at his chest, at the jacket that’s adorned with pins and patches like he’s 18 and not 27. “Which one?”

Steve points, his finger brushing Eddie’s jacket.

It’s not the one Eddie expected. It’s one of the only ones that doesn’t have a band name emblazoned across it.

“Mercyful Fate,” Steve says, like he’s proud, and then, his brows furrowing, adds, “they’re horrible.”

Eddie laughs, a bright bark of laughter that travels easily across the patio, loud against the relative stillness. “They’re trash metal,” he explains, “they’re supposed to sound like that.”

Steve wrinkles his nose, and Eddie laughs harder, giddy, somehow, over someone telling him his music taste is garbage.

“Okay,” Eddie huffs, still smiling, “then who do you listen to?”

Steve tilts his nose into the air. “Sabrina Carpenter.”

That about sends Eddie out of his chair. He’s laughing so hard he feels tears well in his eyes and Steve starts kicking him, these playful little nudges that make Eddie scoot his legs closer.

“Shut up,” Steve keeps bemoaning, but he’s smiling, he knows exactly what he’s doing, and Eddie wants to watch Steve curl his lip at all of his music, wants to know the lyrics to every Sabrina Carpenter song without ever knowing their names.

“I’m taking your pudding cup,” Steve says, and Eddie can’t do anything about it because his eyes are still welling tears, and he’s regaining composure as Steve peels off the lid, “for making fun of me.”

And then Steve runs his tongue along the aluminum.

He does it slow. Eddie can see the pink of his mouth for a whole wonderful few seconds before it’s gone, again, before Steve’s licking his lips and Eddie remembers that he needs to pretend to be annoyed.

He lets Steve have the whole thing.

“I’ve never seen you smoke.”

It’s getting colder. Steve’s in a dark blue sweater that’s pilling on the sleeves and Eddie can see a sliver of an extremely fuzzy sock between the ends of his pants and the tops of his shoes. His nose is pink under the late fall breeze and Eddie’s itching to pull him closer.

He doesn’t. He swallows around nothing, instead, and runs his thumb around the worn metal of his lighter. “I quit a couple’a months ago,” he says, “I think all my friends’ nagging finally caught up with me.” He grins, and knocks his foot against Steve’s. “It fucking sucks, by the way. Don’t listen to any of them.”

Steve laughs, bubbly and warm, a sound that always makes Eddie feel like his blood is carbonizing. “I know I should,” Steve admits, and he’s looking at his cigarette, now, watching the end burn, “I just always have an excuse not to.” He takes another drag, and Eddie tries, once again, to be normal about the way Steve’s mouth wraps around the end, his lips pink and chapped.

Eddie wonders if he wears tinted balm. He wonders whether or not it would rub off on him if they kissed.

He wonders if Steve would let him.

“Might get easier soon,” Eddie says, “who wants to take smoke breaks in the winter?”

Steve’s grin falters. His lips drop for a fraction of a second before they quirk again, tighter this time. “Yeah,” Steve says, but he sounds different. His voice is no longer the slow, easy timbre Eddie’s grown so accustomed to and he feels suddenly unmoored without it. “Who wants to sit outside when it snows?”

Steve’s still smiling tightly, his shoulders tense, and takes another drag. He’s almost down to the filter, and it takes Eddie until Steve exhales again to realize that he’s an idiot.

“I’ve always liked the cold.” He tries to say it firm, tries to say it so it leaves no shadow of a doubt.

Steve looks to him, and his eyebrows twitch. He narrows his eyes like he’s trying to figure Eddie out, like his admittance could mean anything other than an all-out confession that he would brave any element to keep his lunchtimes with Steve, until his features relax again.

Steve leans back over the table, closer this time. He rests his chin against his palm and it makes Eddie warm all over again, like at this point he should really be a damn puddle on the floor instead of fully corporeal, and Steve ashes what’s left of his cigarette.

He pulls out another from an extremely crumpled pack, and really, Eddie’s told him more than once to buy hard packs and yet every time Eddie sees him Steve’s showed up with his soft pack shoved in his pocket like he doesn’t mind the fact they’re getting crushed.

“Light it for me?” Steve asks. He’s already bringing a new cigarette to his mouth. His lips are already around the filter and Eddie feels slow and stupid as he stares, as it takes him long seconds to understand that yes Steve is really asking him to do what he thinks he is.

The flame flickers against the wind and Eddie has to curl his palm around his light to prevent it from going out, the tiny flame finally steady as he brings it up to Steve’s face.

Steve watches him as he does. He’s still leaned forward. His cheek is still resting against his palm and his other hand is holding the cigarette, staring at Eddie as he brings the light to his lips.

They’ve never been this close before. Eddie can feel the heat of his cheeks. The weight of his stare and the breath through his nose and Eddie can hear his inhale as the end ignites.

Steve’s eyes glimmer gold against the glow of the flame and suddenly Eddie wants to see the way Steve’s eyes change colors under a thousand different lights, he wants to see what Steve’s eyes look like against the rising and setting sun and against the dark of the sky and alight with the glow of Eddie’s bedside table.

Eddie flicks the lighter closed, the cigarette lit, dimming the gold of Steve’s eyes.

He brings his hands away. He stays close. He rests his palm against his cheek, and asks Steve about his weekend.

Eddie didn’t see Steve at lunch.

He thinks maybe he’s sick. He thinks maybe he had an appointment or maybe he’s working from home, but Eddie spots him coming out of the restroom, his head low.

Which is fine. Maybe Steve had wanted to be alone, today. Maybe Steve hadn’t felt like talking.

Eddie tries to let it go. He does, but concern gnaws at his chest and it’s all he can do not to march over to the sales department and find out exactly what’s wrong.

It’s a good thing, then, when he looks out his window he sees Steve a story below, sat on one of the patio chairs, an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

Eddie brings his extra scarf with him. He nearly forgets his lighter.

The door hasn’t even completely closed behind him when Eddie can see the glistening of tears on Steve’s cheeks, his eyes red-rimmed and his eyelashes clumped, and Eddie wraps both of his scarves around him before either of them can say anything.

Eddie takes a seat. Pulls himself close, this time, doesn’t even think twice about it, and when Steve’s head drops against his shoulder it feels like love.

He lights Steve’s cigarette for him when he asks for it. His hair catches the light of it in a way Eddie knows he’d never notice until the flame is gone, again, until Steve is half in Eddie’s lap and Eddie is holding his hand.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie murmurs.

Steve inhales. His cigarette is crumpled. He presses himself closer. “Nothing,” he exhales, his lungful of smoke dissipating into the air in front of them.

His breathing is heavy. Every few seconds he sniffles, and Eddie squeezes his hand a little harder when he does.

Eddie doesn’t say anything else. Neither does Steve. Eddie doesn’t think about how angry his boss is going to be when she asks where he’s been. He doesn’t think about how cold it is outside or how he’s letting his afternoon tea grow cold on the second floor.

He thinks about how Steve’s tears are dripping down his cheeks to land on Eddie’s coat and Eddie runs his thumb along the back of Steve’s hand in a way he hopes feels like love in return.

The sky is cloudy. The sun is barely peeking through the clouds and he can feel Steve shivering against him, and Eddie thinks he’d be okay with being cold every day for the rest of his life if it meant Steve was warm.

He takes off his coat.

It gets colder.

Eddie’s had to start wearing his coat that’s all utility and zero aesthetic, and Steve grins big and dopey when he first sees it, plucking at Eddie’s front like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever seen.

“I wear this for you, you know,” Eddie says, because he does, because if all Eddie had to do was go in and out of the building his jean jacket would be enough, but he’s still taking his lunch breaks outside, and doesn’t regret a second of it.

Steve blushes when he says it too, further than the flush of the cold goes, across his cheeks and down his neck and Steve stares at him like he’s waiting for something else, for something that Eddie can’t see, until the moment passes, and Steve looks away.

It’s different, after that.

Subtle, but there, until one day Steve’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes and Eddie thinks, for a bit, that maybe it’s another day like the one two weeks ago. That maybe he’ll look over and see the tears again welling in Steve’s eyes, but he doesn’t.

He doesn’t and when Steve asks him for a light he takes the lighter from Eddie’s hand like Eddie hasn’t been the one to light it for him for the past weeks. He lights it and there’s a tension to his mouth that feels distancing in a way that Eddie’s not sure he can reach across.

He’s wearing his blue sweater again. Eddie can see the collar of it peeking out from under his coat. His ears are bright pink, must be freezing but Steve had told him, under no uncertain terms, that he does not wear hats.

It’d made Eddie laugh, when he’d said it. Made him want to see what Steve’s bathroom counter looks like. Made him want to see what Steve’s hair looks like before he styles it. What it looks like when he wakes up and what it looks like when he gets out of the shower, made Eddie want to know what it looks like after he’s dragged his fingers through.

Steve sets the lighter on the table. “I should probably buy a new one on my way home,” he says. He doesn’t look Eddie in the eyes. He slides Eddie’s lighter back across the table. “I think I might need to stop borrowing yours.” He says it sadly. Says it like it hurts him, too, and Eddie stares at his lighter as it glints against the winter sun.

“Oh,” Eddie breathes, and it feels like a piece of him escapes with it, floats off without the tether of Steve to keep it in place.

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what he did wrong.

Steve draws up his leg to wrap his arms around. “I think I’ve been hoping to borrow the wrong thing all this time.”

He still won’t look at him. He’s gazing out past the small courtyard to the street, his eyes following a passing car and—

Suddenly Eddie wonders what the hell he’s been waiting for.

“Steve?” He can feel his heartbeat in his throat. His palms are already sweating and when Steve turns to him again he has to lick his lips because his mouth has gone dry. “Would you let me take you out sometime?” It comes out far more timid than he’d meant and he follows it up quickly with, “tonight?”

He hopes it’s the right thing to say. He hopes he isn’t too late. He hopes Steve still wants this, after weeks of Eddie not picking up what Steve was throwing at his feet. In his face.

Steve’s smile starts small. His rueful grin morphs into something real until he’s biting down on his bottom lip to try and contain the force of it, like Eddie could ever want anything besides the full force of Steve Harrington’s smile.

“Depends,” he says, his tone betraying the fact it doesn’t depend on anything else at all, “where are you taking me?”

Eddie leans in a little closer. He can see that Steve didn’t shave this morning. There’s a stubble on his cheeks and on his upper lip that Eddie wants to feel against his mouth.

“How about dinner?” He asks, even though the best restaurant in town has a whopping 3.7 stars on Google. “Or the zoo lights?” He amends, and Steve’s lip pops away from his teeth, his eyes sparkling.

“The zoo lights?” He repeats, a little teasing, a little giddy, and Eddie doubles down.

“I’ll buy you a pretzel,” he says, “I’ll even spring for that plastic they call cheese.”

They go to the zoo lights. Steve lets him hold his hand and buy him a pretzel and they share a hot chocolate that still has powdery clumps floating on the top and Eddie learns what Steve’s eyes look like against the brilliant colors of the string lights and under the glow of the moon and every one of them is more beautiful than the last, and Eddie thinks that just might happen in perpetuity, that every light Steve is under is the next most beautiful one because Steve is the one who’s under it.

And at the end of the night, when Steve lets Eddie kiss him, he wonders, again:

What the hell was he waiting for?

He can’t stop staring.

He can’t stop staring because he’s allowed, now, under no uncertain terms, and when they’d stumbled through Eddie’s front door he was a whole lot more preoccupied with touching than looking, and now, well—

Eddie can look.

He’s perfect, is the thing. Eddie always thought it was corny bullshitting when couples called their partners perfect because just looking at them Eddie knew, objectively, they were not, but—

But he’s the one who’s right. Because Steve is perfect, and he’s his. He’s in Eddie’s bed. He’s in Eddie’s bed, naked and perfect and still breathing hard.

Eddie promises himself that he’s going to count every mole on Steve’s skin. He’s going to kiss every single one as he goes. He’s going to memorize the maps of his muscles under his skin and memorize the feel of his heartbeat against Eddie’s palm and he hopes the sound of Steve’s breaths become his new lullaby.

“I can’t believe I let you come in me,” Steve breathes, “what the fuck was I thinking?”

Eddie laughs, and pulls Steve closer, presses his smile into the curve of Steve’s neck. “I seem to remember you begging for it.”

Steve hmphs, but the weight of his arms wraps around Eddie’s middle, holding him close. Steve’s hmph turns quickly into a content hum, and Eddie curls closer into him, kissing the column of his throat.

He’s hairier than Eddie thought he’d be. Sort of thought Steve was the type of guy to keep it trimmed, even waxed, a thought that Eddie now shudders in the face of.

He will never let Steve wax.

“Should we shower?” Steve murmurs, his lips so close to Eddie’s temple the words kiss him as he speaks. “Or do you use three-in-one?”

“I only use the little sample bottles hotels give you,” Eddie hums, snuggling closer, trying to push every one of Steve’s buttons, “I just add water when they get low.”

Steve makes a strangled sort of noise and Eddie’s kiss goes up his jaw. Up to Steve’s cheeks. The tip of his nose. “I have shampoo and conditioner, sweetheart,” he assures, “I even have that body scrub that smells like gingerbread.”

They shower. Steve washes his hair, scrubs the suds into Eddie’s scalp and pulls conditioner through the ends and Eddie’s never had someone wash his hair before, not in adulthood, at least, and as Steve massages his fingers into Eddie’s temples, the crown of his head, behind his ears, he feels himself free falling into in love.

Steve doesn’t let Eddie wash his hair. Bats his hands away when he tries, an eyebrow raised like he’s asking if Eddie’s serious, and so Eddie has to settle for rubbing the body scrub into his skin, which really isn’t settling at all.

Eddie gets to wrap Steve up in his clothes after, gets to see Steve in black sweats and his Slayer shirt that he’s had since high school, and, wordless, Steve grabs his pack, and Eddie grabs his lighter.

They lean out Eddie’s kitchen window. It’s started to snow, a light dusting that’ll be gone come morning but for now the flakes melt against his skin as he lights Steve’s cigarette, his hands curled close to his face.

The light in the kitchen is dim. Steve’s eyes are dark against the reflection of the moon and Eddie curls close, rests his head on Steve’s shoulder and tucks himself into his side.

Steve’s arm wraps around him. “I think I’m gonna quit.” He says it quiet, like it’s just for them, and Eddie doesn’t move from his spot against Steve’s chest but he hums his question, and Steve kisses the top of his head.

“I think you were my last excuse.”

🚬🚬🚬

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BUDDY 🥳🎉 Thank you for being such an amazing person!

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluff #flirting #getting together #alternate universe #hurt/comfort #leigh writes

233 notes · View notes

meazalykov · 1 year ago

Text

nice to finally meet you

lena oberdorf x bayern!reader

summary: reader discovers that her long time rival will be her teammate-- and possibly more.

warnings: long chapter, not 100% proofread

you walk into the training headquarters at bayern, excited since this is the first training which will prepare for the pokal round of 16. since this will be your second time in this competition, you hope to win finally.

as you walked into the locker room, the familiar chatter of your teammates seemed subdued. it was still there, with sydney and sam with their inside jokes– but it was quieter. your mind can't shake the feeling that something is off.

sitting down on the bench in front of your locker, you change into the training kits then drink a bit of water, since there was still time before you had to head onto the pitch.

you look up and see klara give you a sympathetic smile, you smile back brightly. this made klara’s eyes widen– did you not know?

as you lace up your boots, you catch georgia, sam, giulia, sydney, and klara exchanging glances before looking back at you. this bothered you. these people are some of your closest friends on the team– are they hiding something?

"alright, what's going on?" you demand, your voice echoing off the walls of the locker room as you crossed your right leg over the left.

your shoulders flinched when you felt lea’s hand rest of your right shoulder. everyone knew about the news– except for you. lea hopes you will take the news well, for the sake of her best friend.

georgia hesitates, her eyes darting to sydney before she takes a deep breath. she moves to sit beside you.

"did you hear about who's coming to bayern?," she starts, her voice cautious.

you eyebrows knit together in confusion. usually, transfer news doesn’t occur this early before the summer– so you shake your head.

“no. who's coming?” you look over at lea, who looks down at your cleats without saying anything.

"lena. lena is transferring to bayern." sydney says.

they’re all happy for lena transferring to bayern, since they’re all close to her. they knew that you never had a good experience with lena– so they were nervous to see your reaction.

this news hits you like a punch to the gut. lena, your nemesis on the pitch, the wolfsburg midfielder who always seemed to have the hack for getting under your skin.

the first time you guys met was in the champions league final in 2020.

you weren't with bayern. lyon was the club of your life at the time. you were 18 years old during this final and weren’t wise enough to hold back your words.

being subbed into the final in the 70th minute, you wanted to contribute something.

when you had the ball at your feet in the midfield, you felt the spike of a cleat smack into your ankle. you squealed as you hit the ground in an awkward position, lucky that your ankle didn’t twist.

you looked up to see “5 oberdorf” standing up and walking away from you nonchalantly. the medics determined that you were okay, all you needed was a bandage since your ankle started bleeding, but you took her actions personally.

lena had the ball and before she could pass it to alex popp, you pushed her to the ground harshly before dribbling the ball away from her. you didn’t bother to pass up to sommer before shooting the ball– scoring the third goal in that champions league final. winning against the german club.

after finishing third in the 2022 ballon d’or ceremony, and lena getting fourth— just below the two spanish superstars bonmati and putellas– the media declared that there was a new rivalry among you and lena.

you remember the friendly between germany and the united states later in the year too, just after your transfer to bayern months before.

germany won the first game against the united states, but you were out sick with a fever.

the second game– you were back healthy. you took every opportunity to play aggressively against lena, even earning a yellow card for a particularly hard tackle after she tackled you moments before.

despite lea, sydney, and klara’s assurances that lena was a sweet person, you could never reconcile that with the competitor you faced. you were stubborn and knew that lena felt the same towards you.

you force a laugh, trying to mask the mixed emotions inside of you. "lena? lena oberdorf?"

“yeah, she wants to be closer with her friends and family.” lea says.

“that's surprising, she said that she never wanted to come here. i guess things change.” you say, after tying your cleats quickly, you walk out of the locker room.

practice didn’t start for another twenty minutes, but the girls decided to leave you alone with the news.

the reality of the situation sinks in, and you are terrified.

you KNEW you had to be friends with her once she joined the club in july. there was no way you would sacrifice your professionalism over lena oberdorf.

but– how are you supposed to get along with lena after years of arguments, yellow cards, and on-pitch battles? the thought of sharing the same locker room, training together, her wearing the same colors as you working towards the same goals—it all feels overwhelming. it's a thought-process you don’t know if you’ll get used to.

the rest of the day passes in a blur. on the training ground, your mind isn't on the drills or the tactics; it's on lena.

what if she hasn't changed? what if the friction between you only gets worse? what if she tries to take your spot in the midfield? you knew that last question was ridiculous, since you’re an attacking midfielder and she's defensive.

and yet, a small, nagging voice in the back of your mind wonders if maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance to turn this rivalry into a duo that would terrify the future opponents.

a few days later, you saw a post made by lena. yes, you both followed each other on instagram. you didn’t know why, but it just happened.

she confirmed her transfer to bayern after receiving many hate comments about an old interview she did.

in your mind, you felt bad for her. It's not just about football anymore; it's about finding a way to exist together, to move on from the years of competition that have been created. she will be your teammate soon and you have to accept it.

over the next few months, you focus on your training. the reminder of your rival coming to bayern disappeared from your mind for a while.

until july 1st. you woke up that morning and you did everything that morning to delay your route to the training grounds.

however, you still arrive on time– walking into the locker room, you see all of your friends and greet them for the new season.

today was just performance diagnostics, which requires a lot of running, balancing, and strecthing– but that wasn’t the only thing on your mind.

sitting down in the locker room, you avoided your eyes from looking at her.

she sat in the locker right next to yours– with lea on her other side.

little did you know– the coaches and captains wanted it this way so you both could try and get along after years of only knowing each others competitive side.

you take a quick glance at her when you put on your adidas running sneakers. you say to yourself that she looks different in bayern's red and white.

standing up, her eyes meet yours.

“hey.” lena speaks.

for a moment, you pause. at first, you thought she might’ve said hey to someone walking in the locker room– but no.

she is looking right at you.

the expression on your face is unreadable, “hi.”

“we're teammates now." is all lena could say. she looks awkward just as much as you do. this is a hard watch for your teammates in the locker room.

you nod, trying to keep your emotions in check. "yep, we are."

neither of you knows what to say– so nothing else was said. the rest of the team still watches– knowing what will happen.

your teammates know that lena and you will get along and become friends. the two of you are very similar in terms of personality, passion, and hobbies.

obviously, years of hard feelings don’t go away in a day– but they hoped that you guys would accept that you’re teammates and it's okay to be friendly now.

the performance diagnostic goes well, everyone is happy. you forget about lena for a while when you, giulia, sydney, and klara are fooling around in one of the rooms. you’re happy to be back with your teammates for a new season.

as you’re running on the treadmill with a breathing tool over your mouth– sydney, klara, and georgia clap around you in encouragement. you want to smile– but you’re focused. you move your eyes to see that lena is staring right at you. this didn’t throw your running off– but you’re curious about what she is thinking.

as much as you hate to admit it, having her on the team might actually be good for everyone involved– including yourself. you hope that she feels the same about playing with you.

the next week, after receiving advice from lea and the coaches– lena approaches you.

"can we talk?" she asks, her tone earnest as you take off your boots from your tired feet after a day of training on the pitch.

you hesitate, looking at her, but eventually nod. "sure."

you find a quiet spot away from the rest of the team, knowing that they’re all eavesdroppers.

choosing a media room, where the tables are empty with no outside presence, the both of you sit down in chairs beside each other.

you chose to not speak first, since you weren’t the one that wanted to be here.

lena takes a deep breath, clearly gathering her thoughts. "i’m sorry if i have made you feel some type of way over the years," she begins, "i feel like we would both be great together in the midfield. you’re a very good player and i don’t like how we are avoiding each other. "

you study her, searching for any hint of insincerity, but find none. "yeah i agree," you admit. "i’ve built a bias about you and i need to push it away for the sake of bayern. i don’t want the team to be affected by what we went through.”

“i agree, i’m sorry again.” lena frowns.

“don’t apologize. i’m glad you finally chose the right team.” i smirk as lena rolls her eyes, playfully, at my remark.

“this isn’t going to be easy though.” i mumble as i cross my feet together.

lena nods. "i know. but I'm willing to try if you are."

“i will oberdorf, its nice to finally meet you.” i hold my hand out and smile.

“es ist auch schön, sie kennenzulernen.” lena smirks and shakes my hand.

---

weeks turn into months and the season is in full-swing.

the oberdorf, stanway, and y/s/n midfield is an extreme combination. no opponent can walk into the midfield with you three.

for the first goal of the season– it was scored by you against essen. something unexpected happened.

lena had the ball and dribbled it around a few defenders from essen. she looked forward and saw that you were free from a marked opponent, so she passed the ball up to you. your feet dribbled around the last defender before you launched the ball past the goalkeeper. goal!

processing the golozo you scored, you ran to the corner and did a knee slide. lea jumped on your back which made you both fall onto the ground– but you were happy to provide the first goal for bayern this season.

standing up after receiving hugs from your teammates, you saw oberdorf standing with a smile on her face.

lena wasn’t sure if she could hug you– yes you’re her teammate now, but that doesn’t mean that you’re friends.

however, you were high off of the joy from the goal. knowing that lena assisted your goal, you launched your body onto her– giving her a hug that was unexpected from her and your teammates.

“what an assist oberdorf!” you yelled as you released your body from her arms and ran back into position.

she didn’t know what to say– but lena did want to hug you again and she didn’t know why.

a few weeks later, bayern had to play a game which determined if they'll be in the champions league group stages.

remembering mistakes from last year, you didn't want another repeat of that.

during the match, bayern was up 2-0. thanks to a goal from giulia and madga.

in extra time, you had the ball and looked around to see if anybody was free to accept a pass. before you looked back to pass the ball to stanway-- a midfielder from the other team pulled your shirt before throwing you onto the ground.

the opponent wasn't going for the ball, so it was a yellow. many of your teammates argued that it should've been a red.

you didn't have a chance to argue for yourself. you hit your head off of the grass and pain struck throughout your upper body.

you couldn't move, as the quickness of it all had you overwhelmed.

"y/n, y/n! are you okay?" you opened up your eyes slowly to see lena kneeling beside you. you closed your eyes again and held her hand that was on your head.

"I think?" you mumble.

"the medic is coming. can you breathe?" lena asks, just to keep you talking.

"I can yes. my head hurts though." you mumble again.

gently, lena moves her hands to the back of your head- laying it there as a block between the hard grass and your head.

you didn't think too much about the gesture at the moment-- but it hits you later in your living room hours later.

over the months-- you started to see glimpses of the person your teammates always insisted lena was: kind, dedicated, and sweet.

lena's actions from earlier replayed from your mind and your heart started to flutter as your stomach felt tingly.

"lena, I just want to say thank you for helping me last week before the end of the game. i didn't forget about it." you sat down beside lea, who was talking to lena across from her in the lounge room at the training center.

lena smiles slightly, "it's no problem-- the opponents were playing dirty and that wasn't right."

"I agree, usually I'm fast but I didn't see her coming." you say as you giggle at the memory.

you had to skip out on a few training practices and most of the next game-- since the head slam on the grass could've gave you a concussion, but you felt fine after two days.

lena and you talked more, which caught the interest of a quiet lea. she sat back and let you guys talk while she observed.

the blonde saw a look on lena's face that she hasn't seen since she was with her ex. a look of happiness and desire.

as she turned to look at you, she saw the same look in your eyes. this made her eyebrows knit together-- she knew she had to tell the other girls. there was no way that this could be ignored.

the next morning in the gym rooms-- lea tells the girls about her observation before you or lena arrived.

"wait I'm glad I'm not the only one who noticed their behavior towards each other!" georgia yells. klara covers her mouth and looks towards the doors, uncovering it when she realizes that lena and you aren't nearby yet.

"yeah, they're giving each other the same googley eyes that sydney gave sam last season." giulia comments.

"hey?" sydney says, pretending to be offended.

"at least they're getting along-- well, a little too well. I knew they were gonna be friends once they pushed their old rivalry aside but a potential relationship? I didn't see that coming." ana joins into the conversations.

"you didn't see what coming?" you say, walking into the door seeing your teammates surprised at something you were unaware about.

some of the girls exited the conversation and pretended like they were doing their workouts the entire time-- others look to find an excuse to your question.

"we were talking about the champions league group stages that come out this morning. we are grouped with paris fc, real madrid, and ajax." sydney says.

pernille rolls her eyes,

"lets not lie-- yes those are the group stages that came out but we were talking about you." pernille says. your heart drops at her words, what were they saying?

"about me?" you question as you sat down on a workout mat.

"you have a crush on lena and its starting to become obvious." ana says.

your heart skips a beat as you shake your head in denial, "no way! I don't have a crush on her. you guys aren't used to seeing me getting along with her that's it!"

"we are, and you're getting along with her just a tad more than with us. we see the blush on your face and the twinkle in your eyes with you see her, love." georgia squeezes your cheeks as goes she sits beside you.

"I don't know what to say."

"you can say that you have a crush on her-- but its fine since she might have a crush on you too." Sydney says.

"no she doesn't."

"well you didn't deny that you have a crush on her!" sydney smiles.

you playfully roll your eyes.

"it hasn't been that long you guys-- I need to wait a bit." you say.

"and you can-- but you can't hold it in forever." sydney replies.

another week goes by when lena and you are sitting outside a cafe in amsterdam. the first group stage match between bayern and ajax occurs later that night and everyone is excited.

originally, everyone was going to go to the cafe.

little did you and lena know, everyone was going to back out of the cafe plans. just leaving lena and you to go by yourselves.

neither of you minded that nobody else was going. in the middle of the hangout while you were talking-- lena slips up.

"this a nice date, i mean when-" lena cuts herself off when she processes her words. you smile at her as she goes to rub her eyes in frustration at herself.

"a date?" you tease.

"i'm sorry it just slipped out." lena mumbles as she takes a sip of her coffee.

"don't apologize. I can see this as a date with you obi." you smirk. lena's eyes widened, in shock, before she smiles back at you.

after winning against ajax 3-0, thanks to a brace from you and a goal from franz, lena and you switched jerseys.

"well, hello #8 ms. oberdorf?" an ajax player and your friend from the national team, lily, walks up to you as your back was faced towards her.

you wore the number 16, and oberdorf isn't your last name (yet haha), so the swapped jersey confused her at first.

"omg lily!" you turn around and embrace the younger girl in a hug when you notice her. she holds you with confusion on her face as you pull away.

"I was going to ask if we could swap jerseys but I see you already have someone." lily smirks. you playfully roll your eyes, knowing what your fellow american friend is hinting at.

"oh be quiet! I'll give you my jersey when you play us in munich next time ok?" you smile.

"is oberdorf the girl you were talking about back at camp?" lily says.

back in the united states, you might've told the girls on the national team that you had a crush on someone from your club team. all of them begged for you to tell them who, but you refused.

"maybe..." you say.

lena and you grew extremely close throughout most of the season, and all of the fans were starting to notice.

all of your teammates did too-- and they were sick of lena and you cutting corners and not confessing your feelings to each other.

in march 2025, sometime before the start of the pokal games, lena and you sat in a media room, trapped thanks to pernille, ana, giulia, sydney, and georgia.

neither of you were allowed to come out of the room until you both confessed your feelings to each other.

three minutes of silence in the room passed by before lena had enough.

"I love you, y/n" she spoke up.

your heart flutters and your dimples appear on your face as she stares at you. she's sitting right beside you and you could see that she was nervous.

"gosh-- the dimples on your face are so cute. you've been my number one since I've arrived at bayern and if I told myself a year ago that I'd be falling in love with you or that I'd be here right now-- I'd laugh at myself. your laugh replays in my mind all of the time and the way we connect on and off of the pitch mad me realize how much I miss you when you're away for international camp. y/n If you don't feel the same--"

you knew what she was going to do. she was going to invalidate herself and start the whole "if you don't like me back" part of her confession.

she didn't have to though. you pulled your body on top of hers and kissed her. as if this happened a million times before, lena held onto the outside of your thighs and pulled yourself on top of her lap.

still kissing, five minutes ago by before you pull away.

"lena, i love you. i feel the same way about you. please be mine and let me be yours." you whisper against her lips.

you didn't give her a chance to respond before you made out with her lips again. she kissed you back and slipped her tongue into your mouth after you moaned slightly. the tension building up over the months was a lot.

"I'm yours." lena says as she forces herself to pull away from you. forgetting that the two of you are still at bayern training grounds.

"and I am yours." you repeat, starting a new relationship with your once old rival.

#lena oberdorf #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #gerwnt #bayern frauen #bayern munich #paris olympics #lea schüller #sydney lohmann #georgia stanway #lily yohannes

290 notes · View notes

liviawildrose · 5 months ago

Text

𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞

tryna manifest that indian baddie hair.

monday

morning

1. scalp massage: massage your scalp with rosemary oil for 2-3 minutes. (only 2-4 drops)

2. detangle: gently detangle hair with a wide-tooth comb. (please get a wooden comb)

3. styling: style your hair as usual (loose, braid, bun, etc.)

night

1. scalp massage: massage your scalp with growth oil (rosemary) for 5 minutes

2. derma roller: use a derma roller on your scalp (buy a derma roller please)

3. protective style: braid your hair or wrap it in a silk scarf or use a silk pillowcase

tuesday

morning

1. scalp massage: massage your scalp with rosemary oil (apply 2-4 drops only)

2. detangle: carefully detangle with a wide-tooth comb

3. styling: style your hair as usual (loose or in a protective style)

night

1. scalp massage: do a 5-minute scalp massage with rosemary, coconut or castor oil.

2. protective style: braid or twist your hair for protection overnight.

wednesday

morning

1. scalp massage: do a light scalp massage for 2-3 minutes (no need to apply oil)

2. detangle: gently detangle your hair with a wide-tooth comb or fingers.

3. styling: style your hair how you like (loose or protective style)

night

1. pre-wash: apply mask for strengthening leave it for 20-30 minutes

2. shampoo: wash out the pre-poo with a sulfate-free shampoo

3. deep conditioning: apply deep conditioner to strengthen your hair

4. moisturize: apply your usual leave-in conditioner.

(on this day you can also use a heat less curls method if you want)

thursday

morning

1. scalp massage: massage your scalp with oil to boost circulation

2. detangle: gently detangle with a wide-tooth comb

3. styling: keep your style fresh, whether it’s loose, a braid, or bun

night

1. scalp massage: do a 5-minute scalp massage

2. protective style: braid or twist hair before bed

friday

morning

1. scalp massage: massage with rosemary oil or any growth oil for circulation.

2. detangle: gently detangle hair.

3. styling: style your hair as usual.

night

1. pre-wash: apply coconut oil to your hair and leave it for 30-45 minutes

2. scalp massage: massage your scalp for 5 minutes

3. shampoo: wash with a moisturizing shampoo

4. deep conditioning: apply your hydrating deep conditioner

5. moisturise: apply leave-in conditioner to lock in moisture

saturday

morning

1. scalp massage: massage with oil for 2-3 minutes. (2-4 drops only)

2. detangle: use a wide-tooth comb to detangle. (invest in a wooden comb

3. styling: do a loose braid, bun, or let it stay down for the day.

night

1. scalp massage: massage your scalp with growth oil (rosemary) for 10 minutes.

2. protective style: braid your hair or wrap it in a silk scarf or use a silk pillowcase.

(don’t wash off the oil, you need to keep this overnight)

sunday

morning

1. scalp massage: do a light scalp massage with your growth oil for 2-3 minutes.

2. detangle: gently detangle your hair.

3. shampoo: wash out (the oil) with a sulfate-free shampoo

4. scalp scrub: exfoliate your scalp with a scalp scrub for deep cleansing

5. mask: apply mask to your scalp and hair for growth. leave for 20-30 minutes

6. second wash: wash out with a sulfate-free shampoo.

7. deep conditioning: apply a nourishing deep conditioner to lock in moisture.

night

1. scalp massage: do a 5-minute scalp massage (no oil needed)

2. protective style: braid or twist hair before bed.

more tips and tricks

nutrition tips

• drink amla (gooseberry) juice daily for super thick hair.

• eat curry leaves (4-5 every morning) to prevent premature greying and strengthen follicles.

• drink fenugreek (methi) water on an empty stomach for hair regrowth.

• eat nutritious food and healthy foods

• avoid too much sugar and dairy – they can cause scalp inflammation and hair fall.

other powerful hacks for hair health

1. scalp massages every day – use fingertips or a scalp massager for 5-10 mins to boost circulation.

2. derma rolling (microneedling for scalp) – stimulates new hair growth and thickens strands. please don’t get too harsh (once a week)

3. wear a cap (especially in summers) – to protect your scalp

4. use a wooden comb – reduces breakage and improves scalp circulation.

5. never brush wet hair – hair is weaker when wet, so use a wide-tooth comb instead.

6. sleep with a silk/satin pillowcase – reduces friction, breakage, and frizz.

7. listen to subliminals – subconsciously helps to manifest

61 notes · View notes

strawbewiecake · 1 month ago

Text

okay so I found some things that help me keep going. Like these are mostly lifestyle changes so I strongly advise against them because once u start doing them, u can't go back. But things get so easier and starving becomes second nature once u get into them.

Your body is always burning calories. like all the time. approximately ur burning around 5-15 calories every 10 minutes depending on ur BMR and if ur doing something like walking or exercising it goes up a bit more. being conscious of this all the time really helps me.

getting into ketosis at minimum takes 12 hours since ur last consumption. Getting into fat burning takes SO MANY HOURS. why would u waste it and restart the 12 hours. Instead stay in the fat burning phase-because u have so much fat to sustain anyways.

i like to imagine what someone skinny would do. Would the girls in thinspo pics binge? No. They would do a lot of NEAT activities, always moving and only drink water.

Hungry? Here's a foolproof hack that WORKS all the time. Start jumping or doing something (even walking for some time works) Your brain is tricked into going into fat stores for energy and burns some of that so now ur no longer hungry. when u get hungry again do it again and again eventually you won't feel hunger at all and things get way simpler from that time onwards.

and tying into the being conscious of your body burning calories, also try to note down any food ur turning down and giving up and note down the calories of them. It feels so gratifying at the end of the day to look at how much cals u saved. It's like a game. It's so fun!

Whenever you do eat (like when it's an unavoidable situation) eat nutritional stuff ( trust me even if it feels bad to eat, it helps in burning more down the line ) take all ur vitamins and supplements.

hunger headaches are very common, take no sugar electrolytes or just sometimes salt in the kitchen works.

One of the main issues that I've faced is my mental health getting fked up due to nutrient deficiencies, so pls focus on the nutrients IT REALLY REALLY HELPS IN LONG TERM FAT BURNING.

also from the very start, try to act like you're eating a lot and love food around friends and family because if they get even a little bit suspicious, ur done for.

Never do crash diets or fast fixes, they only make u feel bad and make u binge. Try to focus on lifestyle changes-> they make things so much easier, it's literally automatic fat loss. Ex. I cannot start the day without walking for 3 hours in the morning and cannot sleep without walking for 3 hours at night. If I consume something I HAVE TO WALK- like it just happens automatically and until I feel empty again I won't sit down (I won't even study until I feel empty because I have to sit down while studying and doing that while feeling full feels really uncomfortable as I get this feeling of my body retaining everything so I have to burn it up before I can do anything-> so eventually it feels like a punishment to eat so I stay away from it as much as possible. See it's a subconscious win-win situation NOW! and the best thing is once u get trained, all of this happens by itself)

39 notes · View notes

arliganzey · 26 days ago

Text

Day 5 Prompt: Brothers for @deltasquadweek (HA remembered to tag before posting this time...)

Title: My Brother, My Brother, My Brother, and Me Rating/Warnings: T (because of Scorch's reading choice) Word Count: 1.8k Special Guest Appearances: Aleena (mentioned), a mouse droid Summary: Three vignettes about Scorch and his brothers.

Read it on AO3

“Who do you think changes that light bulb?”

Scorch didn’t need to point out the flashing light on the building across the skylane. It was blinding, even from where Fixer was inside. Each flash made Scorch’s scope auto-adjust for the brightness, and it happened at an infrequent enough interval that the scope would normalize for about four seconds only for the light to flash again. Scorch reckoned it was eighteen seconds.

“What do you mean, who?” Fixer said. “Probably a droid.”

“Yeah. Probably.” Scorch was quiet until the light flashed again. “But who calls the droid when the light needs changing?”

Fixer put a broken slicer into his belt and stared at the cursor blinking on the console in front of him. Scorch was wedged into an uncomfortable position somewhere on the roof and likely needed the distraction. “Maybe you should call it in.”

“I’ve got the building manager’s comms.”

“And his home address.”

 Scorch snorted. “I’ll send him a message via courier.”

“That should do.” Fixer rebooted the console so his program could take over and start copying, dumping, and rewriting the data. “It’s not that urgent.”

Scorch tried to wiggle his toes. His legs fell asleep. “I think my next job will be ‘guy who changes the lightbulbs on top of skyscrapers.’”

“Yeah? Think that would be exciting, do you?”

“Maybe the benefits would be good.”

“You wouldn’t last a week before you got bored.”

“You think you could do better?”

Fixer scoffed as he pulled the datachip out of the console and packed up his toolkit. “I don’t want to change lightbulbs.”

“What’s your dream job?”

A blip appeared on Fixer’s HUD. He reeled back against the wall, rifle in hand, as the door opened. Fixer aimed, ready to shoot to kill whatever walked through the door. Nothing happened—half a second passed, and a mouse droid rolled in.

“It’s a mouse droid,” Scorch announced, much too late with his assessment. Fixer sighed heavily into the comms.

“I could be a janitor, I guess.” Fixer watched the droid, scanning it for any recording devices. Satisfied it hadn’t noticed him, he slipped out the door and started heading back toward the stairs to get to the roof. “Hack into unattended consoles on my lunch break.”

Scorch hummed, watching Fixer’s position change on the map. “Looking for what?”

“I don’t know,” Fixer grumbled, already sounding winded on the stairs, his patience for the conversation eroding.

“You’d do some hacking just for the love of the game,” Scorch concluded.

“Yeah.” Fixer kept going, his legs protesting with every floor. “The love of the game.”

A few moments of blissful silence passed until Scorch said: “You’d have to clean ‘freshers. Toilets and everything.”

“So?”

“I wouldn’t want to do that.”

Fixer snorted. “That’s all right. You’re the light bulb guy, anyway.”

The roof was somewhat obscured from view by other, taller buildings by a water tank, under which Scorch had stowed himself while Fixer went inside.

The light flashed again.

“Need a hand?” Fixer asked when Scorch didn’t immediately get up.

“Legs are asleep,” Scorch grumbled, sticking out his hand. Fixer hauled him out, katarn armor scraping across permacrete. Scorch got to his feet and looked down at his chestplate. “That’ll mess up a paint job… This is why I’d rather be out in the field.”

Fixer put a hand on Scorch’s shoulder to keep him steady on wobbly legs. “No love for Triple Zero?”

“Nah. Did you get what we came for?”

“That and more. Someone should tell our friends in urban planning to keep better tabs on this sector’s building codes.”

“They didn’t think you’d come knocking on the door looking for intel.”

Fixer actually smiled and Scorch could hear it in his voice. “No, they didn’t.”

===

“Sev,” Scorch whispered. “Are you awake?”

There was a long pause. Scorch stared at the ceiling, only a few inches away from his face where he lay on the top bunk above Fixer.

“No,” Sev grumbled.

“Okay.”

The silence felt like static. Sev rustled, turning onto his side. “What?”

“Remember that Twi’lek server on Dorumaa?”

“Yeah.” Another long pause. Sev wasn’t sure why Scorch hesitated to talk again, he usually talked his ear off while Boss and Fixer snored below. “What about her?”

“I have her com.”

Now Sev was intrigued. “No way in haran you have her com.”

“But I do.”

“Okay… call her right now.”

“No way.”

“Then you’re a lying chakaar.”

“I am not, I really have her com, and we have been sending each other messages.”

Sev held out his hand. “Show me.”

Scorch groaned, but then he reached across the bunk bends and put his datapad in Sev’s hand. He watched as the green glow lit up Sev’s face. “What is this?”

“What is what?”

Sev silently turned the datapad around to reveal the last thing on Scorch’s screen, which was a panel from a holocomic with a buxom woman in some sort of tied up prisoner situation.

“It’s called art. Just go to my messages, di’kut.”

Like any good brother would do, Sev found Scorch’s messages and decided to glance at all of them. Scorch had recent messages with each of the squad, of course, and Darman (?), and then an Aleena.

Sev started reading the Aleena conversation. It was painfully boring. There were several iterations of hi, how are you? Good, and you? Alive. That’s good to hear. How’s the weather where you are? Good. Rainy.

“You sent her a meme about having a bad boss.”

“Uh-huh.”

“This is so boring and stupid I can’t even accuse you of fabricating it.”

“Yeah. I’m exchanging messages with a real person.”

“Did it ever occur to you,” Sev reached out to hand the datapad back, “she just messages you out of pity?”

“Why pity? I haven’t told her I’m a soldier.” Scorch took the datapad and stuffed it under his pillow.

“You think she doesn’t suspect we’re all clones?”

“Why would she? She’s never seen a clone before. And Jusik told us we look like brothers when we’re out of uniform.”

“So who does she think you are?”

“I haven’t really told her anything. She probably thinks I’m some mercenary named Scorch, I guess.”

“Huh.” The thought of having a conversation with someone outside of the squad and the army was already a bit jarring. Adding on the fact that she doesn’t even know Scorch is a clone commando made it so Sev couldn’t imagine what he’d have to say. All he knew was the army and being a commando. But Scorch could be… anything to Aleena.

Scorch was suspiciously silent.

“Do you want to tell her?” Sev asked carefully.

“That I’m a clone commando stuck in the GAR until I die? No. I want to…” Scorch trailed off and sighed. He already started this with Sev, so he might as well say it. “Ask her more questions. Get to know her better. Not for any reason. Just… because she agreed to give me her com, and hasn’t blocked me.”

Sev made a hm sound that was neither judgmental nor agreeable.

“I’m going to ask her what her favorite color is,” Scorch announced.

“Okay.”

“What… is… your… favorite… color… And sent.”

“Would you two shut up?” murmured Fixer from below.

“Go to sleep,” Sev said.

A few minutes later, Scorch whispered: “Yellow.”

And Sev knew Scorch probably replied with: my favorite color is yellow too. :)

===

“Again, Scorch? Really?”

From the mirror’s reflection, Scorch saw Boss leaning against the ‘fresher door with his arms folded, clad in red fatigues and freshly shaven, ready to go to bed.

“You can’t boss me around during off hours.” Scorch went back to slathering white paste onto his hair.

“Put some gloves on.”

Scorch rolled his eyes and kept applying the bleach.

Boss came into the ‘fresher and found some gloves, then he walked up behind Scorch and held out his hand. “You missed a whole section in the back. Let me do it.”

The glare Scorch fixed on him didn’t falter as he handed over the bowl. Rumor had it a few of the ARC troopers got a hold of an applicator for bleach and hair dye, but Scorch had never seen it, so he always used his hands. He bleached all of his hair anyway, it wasn’t like he needed to do anything fancy. He’d let the roots grow out until all the orange-ish blonde was sheared away during Delta’s very infrequent visits to the hygiene droids. He’d been totally natural for about a month now, and his usual cycle of natural-‘all blonde’-‘grown out roots’ was ready to repeat itself.

Boss took a small scoop of white paste and patted it into the darker roots Scorch missed, then he moved some heavily applied paste around to try and even it out. “You want the sides too?”

“No. It’s okay. It’s too short.”

“Okay.”

The chemical smell in the ‘fresher was terrible. Boss felt a headache coming on. But he kept applying the paste until Scorch’s head was saturated. “You should rinse it out after thirty minutes,” he said, because he’s been down this road before with Scorch.

“Fifty.”

“It’s going to feel like straw.”

“I put oil in it this time, no it won’t.”

“Thirty minutes.”

“Fifty.”

“Thirty-five.”

“Fifty.”

“Thirty-five or you’ll lose a layer of hair in your helmet again.”

“… Forty-five.”

“Thirty-five.”

“Listen.” Scorch turned and leaned back on the sink, folding his arms. “It’s already been fifteen and the front is still brown. Forty-five, or it’s not even worth it.”

Boss looked and confirmed that Scorch’s hair was still rather reddish brown. “Fine. Forty-five. Did you get that thing the 501st was talking about?”

“The toner? No.”

“Toner,” Boss repeated under his breath.

Scorch shrugged. “I’ve never used it, why bother with it now?”

Boss removed the gloves and threw them in the incinerator. Then he left the ‘fresher without another word.

Scorch looked in the mirror again, examining Boss’s work. He did fine.

There were a lot of clones who thought dyeing their hair was a waste of time and effort. Really, they wore helmets most of the time. But the clones that kept doing dyeing their hair, like him, found it too addicting to stop. Having the ability to change his appearance felt like breaking the rules. And even his brothers in Delta painted their armor not with a singular squad theme, but their own individual colors.

Scorch brushed a hand over his jaw. He already looked different from every other clone, burn scars and skin grafts etching the side of his face. But he liked being blonde—even if he wasn’t a clone, he reockened he’d still bleach his hair. Or pay someone to do it.

Soon Boss reappeared in the ‘fresher with a bottle in hand. “Toner.” He tossed it to Scorch.

Scorch caught it. The bottle was unmarked and full of a purple liquid, clearly someone poured from the store bought bottle into this separate container. “Okay?”

“He said after you rinse out the bleach, put that on, and leave it until the orange is gone. The longer you leave it, the whiter your hair will get.”

Turning fully to Boss, Scorch stared at him.

“What?” said Boss.

“Thank you.”

Boss nodded. He lingered in the doorway. “Want me to help with the back again?”

“Yeah… Thanks, vod.”

#deltasquadweek #delta squad #republic commando #scorch #fixer #boss #sev

23 notes · View notes

philosophicaltrashcan · 4 months ago

Text

Modern Six of crows AU

Kaz

Knows exactly where to watch movies for free

Self-learned master programmer who can hack literally anything

Hijacks the stock market

Orders black coffe at Starbucks unironically but it's actually a caramel latte

Is the manager of The Dregs' Discord channel

Doesn't have a degree but somehow seems more educated than anyone he meets

Knows how to get into darkweb

We all had that one guy who wore the finest suits every day to class. That's Kaz.

Inej

Works part-time as a climbing instructor

Vegan

More addicted to coffee than Kaz (and that's saying something)

Studies ethnology/anthropology

Wants to study/volunteer abroad

Never leaves the house without a water bottle, and always reminds the rest of the crows to drink enough water

Loves all of Jane Austen's works

She would have loved Rupi Kaur's "Milk and honey"

Jesper

David Bowie's biggest stan

Addicted to UNO but totally useless at it

Oh and animal crossing. And Hay Day. And...

Oddly fascinated by Guinness Word Records (and yes, he tried to beat most of them)

Has a YouTube channel consisting of pranks, jumpscares and secret recordings of the other crows. Oh and he also has a meme account with only pictures of Kaz in different situations Kaz is aware but stays quiet

Tries all the weird pringle flavours the second they arrive

Went viral on TikTok once

Wears socks in sandals just to piss people off

Wylan

Plant dad (I am not kidding, it's hard to move through rooms)

Sure thing he can't read but you will never meet anyone who listens that much to audiobooks (he has listened to the Harry Potter series about 5 times)

Has a gigantic box of Capri Sun in his locker

Studies chemistry, art AND music he denies every acccusation of burnout

Has about 15 different flavours of tea at home

Always walks into vintage bookshops even though he can't read

Works part time at the cinema

Contrary to popular belief, he doesn't like Disney (he prefers Lord Of The Rings)

Nina

Chapell Roan and Kate Bush are her girlies

Worked as an au pair in France (everyone thought she was french because she sl@yed the language)

Big time musical lover (especially Wicked and Phantom of the Opera)

Tries her best to educate Matthias on LGBTQ+ labels and stuff

Wears the strawberry dress with pride

Saturday tarot readings with Inej

Had a crush on about 60% of her teachers but has ONE math/science teacher that is her MORTAL ENEMY

Sunbathes a lot but never tans and it drives her mad

Matthias

Secretly into knitting.

Jesper once changed his Snapchat name to "Grandpa" and now he is stuck with it because he doesn't know how to change it.

When others say "bring snacks" he brings an apple

The only one with a drivers license but it doesn't matter because Kaz only lets himself drive

Sports heartthrob except he doesn't play sports he's just running a lot

When the crows watch movies he always pick them apart and analyses them, which ruins all the fun ("that's unrealistic, because in real life he would have...")

Has a siberian husky

Loves thanksgiving

#six of crows #kaz brekker #crooked kingdom #jesper fahey #soc #wylan van eck #ck #inej ghafa #nina zenik #kanej #wesper #helnik

63 notes · View notes

weirdmageddon · 9 months ago

Text

milton rapidly intensified from a category 1 to a category 5 hurricane in under 24 hours. it will hopefully SLIGHTLY “weaken” in wind speed before fall due to wind shear, but i don’t like using the word weaken because it’s a major hurricane no matter what and it’s likely not enough to offset catastrophic damage.

tampa bay area has not been directly hit since 1921, the infrastructure may not be adequate. a category 5 tropical cyclone is without exaggeration the most powerful class of storm capable of being produced on planet earth

i’m in sarasota which is right in the crosshairs of hurricane milton. i think i will be safe physically because i am so so so so lucky to live in a building made of solid concrete + hurricane proof glass and i’m not in an evacuation/flood zone. i live on the first floor so if a tree falls on the building it will hit the roof which is the second floor. so i’ll probably bunker in the bathroom which is the safest room in my complex in the center of the building away from windows.

what i’m more worried about is being without power or water for a long time. it’s very hot and humid and without air conditioning florida is swamp-ass swamp-taint sweat hell.

we have a huge stack of water bottles that we copped in preparation for helene and thank god we didnt have to use it. flashlights and batteries, portable chargers, usb powered fan that i can use a car phone charger and a 9-volt battery attached by a little metal spring from a mechanical pen to activate (awesome hack i did back in 2017 with irma), a box of snacks, plenty of weed edibles (for me), wine (for my mom) and we will be feasting on peanut butter and bread.

#mine

44 notes · View notes

lulublack90 · 1 year ago

Text

Prompt 24 - Modern AU

@wolfstarmicrofic April 23, word count 937

Sirius gripped his coffee as though it were a lifeline. It was the biggest, strongest coffee he could find, watered down with copious amounts of milk. He took little sips as he logged into his computer at work, brought up his list of tasks for the day and slowly began muddling his way through.

He’d gone out last night with James, against his better judgement, not that it took much persuasion on James’s part. All he had to do was bat his hazels at him, and Sirius was putty in his hands.

He’d been having a great time, downing drinks, shaking his arse to the vintage jukebox and then woken up in some fit lad’s bed, hence the massive coffee and the mind-numbing hangover. He’d crept quietly out of the little flat and stumbled his way down the harsh concrete steps that smelled like weed, piss and, for some bizarre reason, hairspray. Sirius had rushed home, hopped in the shower, changed his clothes and hurried to the coffee shop on the corner. He couldn’t even remember the man’s name. He put it out of his mind, reasoning that he’d never see him again anyway.

It took an age for the little digital clock on his computer screen to blink to 12:00 and signal lunchtime.

Feeling the need for greasy food, he went to pull out his mobile to order a McDonald’s when he realised he didn’t have it. He checked all his pockets and his bag. It wasn’t there. The panic had just set in that it had been stolen at the bar last night when his computer alerted him to a new email on his personal account.

‘Hi, erm, I guess Sirius. Sorry, I didn’t get your name last night 😬.

So anyway, I have your phone. You must have left it here when you snuck out this morning. (You are not sneaky, by the way! Like an elephant in size nines!) But yeah, anytime you want to come by and get it is fine. I’ll be in all day. Crap, I hope you get this email, or I’ve just got myself a new phone. It’s actually a big upgrade to mine. On second thoughts, it’s mine now, mwahaha 😈!

Thanks

Remus Lupin.’

Sirius stared at the words for a few minutes, taking them in, before picking up the work phone from his desk and phoning himself.

“Hello?” A voice on the other end answered. “Hi, I’m not Sirius. He left his phone at mine last night.”

“Hi, Remus. It’s me. Sirius.” He added in case he hadn’t realised.

Well, I guessed when you used my name. I highly doubt anyone in your phone book knows who I am. Especially ginger toss pot number 1. There’s more than one ginger toss pot?” Remus snickered.

“Wait, how do you know that, and how did you get my email address? Have you hacked into my phone?!” He felt outraged. How had he even gotten in, though? It was password-protected.

“Sirius, 6969 is not a strong password. Plus, I could see where you’d jabbed at the screen to unlock it. You really need to clean your phone.” Remus went on.

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that.” He paused for a second, trying to rein in the snarkiness. “I don’t finish work until 5. Is it alright to come over after that?”

“Sure,” Remus answered. “I’ll be in.”

“Great, thanks.” Sirius forced a smile on his face so Remus could hear his sincerity.

“Who’s Specky Dick Nuts? Because they’ve been blowing up your phone all morning before I woke up and found it. They seem to have stopped now, though.”

“Oh, that’s my best mate James. Oh shit, if he’s gone quiet, he’s probably tracking my phone. Er, be prepared. He probably thinks I need rescuing.” There was a loud thudding on the other end of the line.

“Er, I think your friend might be here,” Remus whispered into the phone.

“Put me on speaker so I can talk to him.” He heard the faint click as he was put on speaker and the sound of Remus unlocking the four locks on his door.

“Hi, you must be James,” Remus said.

“Where is he?!” James’s voice was stern and full of concern.

“James, mate. I’m fine. I’m at work. I just forgot to pick up my phone this morning. This is Remus, by the way. He kindly let me know he had it.” He prayed that was enough to call off the Potter inquisition.

“Oh, cool. Hi, Remus.”

“Hi, James.”

“Sorry, I thought you were some lunatic. And you were keeping him prisoner.”

“Oh, don’t worry. Happens all the time.” The phone line was filled with laughter, and Sirius had to hold his receiver away from his head.

“Hey, James, can you take my phone, seeing as you’re there?”

“Sure thing.”

“Thanks, Remus.” He managed to say before James hung him up. He felt oddly dejected for some reason but brushed it off.

When he came back from lunch, he found a new email, this time from Remus’s actual address.

‘Can I take you out on a date?’

It said. Sirius felt a surge of joy and so replied.

‘What do you have in mind?’

‘Dinner? Movie? Massive shagathon?’

Sirius choked on his own spit at Remus’s reply. He coughed as he typed back.

‘Jesus, Remus. Are you always so forward?’

‘What can I say? You made an impression 😉.’

‘Yeah, go on then.’

And that was how Sirius found himself for the second morning in a row in Remus Lupin’s bed. But this time, he didn’t sneak out.

136 notes · View notes

dumbfloweralive · 1 year ago

Text

Mystery Hack

Chapter 5: A message of hope

Machine!Connor x reader

Warning: Implicit grafic violation

May 30th 2039, 5pm, CIA office

The Zen garden. Connor stepped followed the whites tiles of the garden, all while looking for Amanda. Besides the sound of running water and birds, the garden was silent, free of any noises. It didn’t take him long enough to find Amanda, finding her next to her roses.

She turned around, hearing his footstep, a content smile adorning her face. Connor offered her a polite smile, standing steal. He felt nervous, his mission had gone wrong, ending in death and no more information. All he expected from Amanda was anger, therefore, the smile on her face wasn't expected.

“You accomplished your mission perfectly.” She said, walking toward him.

Connor frowned. Definitely not what he expected.

“I do not understand.” Connor shook his hand. “We gain no information, Y/N die, we have no other way to understand what she had done. RA9 remain in the android program and cyberlife have no way to erase it.”

“You got rid of her. That was all that matter. All we needed. We will manage the rest.” Amanda raised her hand toward him, her palm falling on his cheek. “I am very proud of you, Connor. You did a wonderful job.”

Connor accepted the praise despite this feeling lingering deep in him. Like he had done something wrong. Something he regretted, unforgivable. This time, even Amanda praised wasn’t enough to convinced him.

How could he feel this way?

“Your job isn’t over yet.” Amanda walked back to her roses, spraying them. “As you said, RA9 is still active. Plus, the government and special forces have asked for our help to find those behind “Mystery Hack”. It is a great honour to work with the military.”

“I will do my best to accomplish this mission.” Connor said, more confident this time, the update of his mission getting in his field of vision.

“I know. Don’t disappoint me, Conor.”

When he opened his eyes the next second, Connor was sitting at his desk in the office, near agent Wilson, this one in deep conversation with another agent.

“They have found no corpses yet.” He told Connor out of courtesy more than anything.

Soon, he was gone, leaving them both alone.

“We are on the big cases now.” Wilson told him, showing the “Mystery Hack” file on the desk.

Connor nodded.

He wouldn’t disappoint Amanda.

30th May 2039, 5 pm, Somewhere in a tower in Detroit.

You were heading toward your room, Markus walking by your side as the two of you discussed the next step of the plan.

Markus had came to you a few hours after the fall of the android revolution. Carl had send him to you. He was badly injured, scared, full of hatred, expecting an android. At first, he didn’t trust you at all. But of course, how could one blame him? After everything your kind had done to his people despite him leading a peaceful revolution, you couldn’t expect much. That day, he didn’t let you fix him. Markus was all alone, and you were afraid to know what happened to the rest of them.

Later that same night, he came to your lab, calmer, asking for your help. You had fixed him, putting back on his feet, taking all the time he needed in order not to frighten him. He was quick to trust you after that, understanding you meant no harm. That you stood by his side.

Markus was your first personal creation, meant to a new type of autonomous android and to be a friend to keep Carl’s company after his accident. You knew Carl for years before that, knowing he would take a good care of him. And that he did.

12 November 2038

Markus was sitting in your couch, watching the fire burn in the chimney. Everything was quiet, the TV was turned off on purpose. You sat across him, watching the snow falling behind him, a thousand of question burning your lips.

You asked none.

The two of you stayed quiet, giving time to process all that happened. Mankind had butchered his people, he was angry and so were you.

Seeing Markus leading that revolution filled your heart with pride and joy, seeing the popular opinion rising for them made you happy. They were winning all by themselves.

It all came to an end so quickly. You were disappointed. Not after Markus. After mankind, after yourself. Stupid human being, scared of evolution. And you stood there, unhelpful.

It pained you even more, seeing Connor fighting alongside mankind. What cyberlife had done to him? The first deviant turned into deviant butchered. The one you thought would lead the revolution. The deviant hunter, that’s how they called him.

“It’s my fault. I lost my people and my friend, and it’s all my fault” He whispered so low you almost didn’t hear him.

“You know this isn’t true.”

Markus’s eyes fell on his hands, joined on his knees. He had no idea where his friends were. Wondering if they could be alive.

“I failed them.” You rose to your feet, carefully moving to sit at his side. Markus didn’t move. “I thought i could make them change their mind. That i could give us freedom. I thought human would understand and accept us. I failed everyone.” You chuckle. “Why are you laughing.”

“You’ve done exactly what i wanted you to do. Yesterday was the start of a hard and long road. But i’ll be with you, every step of the way.” Your hand cupped his cheek, raising his face to look at you. “You will change heart and mind. You will lead your kind to freedom. This will be your calling. It will be your life works.”

Markus eyes filled with tears as he signed a “no” with his head.

“I don’t think i can.”

“I made you this bright so that others would see in the darkness.” You brushed the tears that had fallen from his eyes with your thumb, before raising, walking toward your computer.

“How am i supposed to do it alone?” He asked.

“You won’t have to.” you answered. “I am here.”

“Why”

“I want you at my side because it’s the safest place in the world.”

May 30th 2039

Markus’s eyes darted to you, as the news of your death was on every channel of your TV.

“You don’t approve?” you asked, eyes glued to your laptop.

“I never said that.”

Markus turned the TV off, leaning further in the couch.

“I can hear your thought from over here.” you mouth, moving your hand in the air.

“It’s too soon” He just said.

Your eyes crossed him, inviting him to explain his point of view.

“Last night was too close. They were after you, imagine if they had to arrest you, or worst, kill you.”

“But i am fine.” you said, stopping what you were doing on your laptop. “Everything is fine, and the plan is working perfectly.”

“They sent the deviant hunter after you. You know what he did to me, you fixed me and i could barely handle him. Connor could kill you just that easily.” Markus said, walking toward you. “I’m not losing you. Maybe we should lay quiet for some time.”

You stayed quiet. Maybe he was right. This Connor wasn’t your Connor, for now, he could kill you if asked. You sight, remembering the way his skin had crawled down, just like he used to do with you. You couldn’t help but hope your Connor was still here.

“This isn’t Connor.” You whispered.

“It doesn’t matter Y/N.” Markus kneeled in front of you, taking your hands in his. “This is who he is now. We need to keep you safe. I can understand your wish to free him, but not at the value of your life. Y/N please.” Markus paused, raising from the ground. “What if this become too dangerous for you.”

“I’ve been standing at the gate of your creation, keeping you all safe since the moment you crawled out of the world.” You told Markus, hand raising to his cheek. “I am not stopping now.”

Markus leaned in your touch.

“Alright” You nodded. “Let’s stay quiet for some time.”

“Thank you.” Markus said, squeezing your hands.

15 July 2039

It has been a month and a half that Connor had been searching for the mystery hack, a month and a half since they got nothing, since they had vanished from the earth. And just as quickly as human forgot drama, they forgot what happened with the Mystery Hack.

Everyone continue their lives as if nothing had shattered the world.

And Connor felt stuck looking for a ghost. Amanda would be disappointed, but he couldn’t follow any tracks he already explored.

It was a dead end.

4 August 2039

Connor was looking for files regarding you, the co-creator of cyberlife. He didn’t know why or what he was looking for but reading files kept him busy, he hoped to found more about RA9 though, that was for sure.

That was until a small flash blind him for a second, a confidential file with your name on it had popped up in his field of vision. For a second, the android stared at the file, oblivious on what he should do with it. From what he could see, it seemed to be a memory dating from 2036.

But he hadn’t been activated yet. It couldn’t be his.

Connor excused himself, leaving to a more private place, closing his eyes, hoping he could open the video. He relaxed immediately, and he was gone is a second, the smell of wet dog suddenly surrounding him.

12 January 2036

Connor’s eyes open on a door opening and the happy noise of a dog yapping. He heard the sound of the nails on the ground first, and the same Aussie he had seen weeks ago at your place running toward him, throwing all his weight on him, licking his hands.

“Shush” You whispered, pushing the wet dog away from Connor. “Sorry, it’s raining like crazy outside.” You said, hand going to his shirt, swapping the droplet of water off him.

Connor noticed the soft way you smiled at him, very different from the last time he saw you. Your hand moved to cup his cheek as a sign of affection before following the dog.

Your smile was so different.

7 January 2036

The memory was mixed up. This time he was in a lab. In front of him stood Elijah Kamski, next to him was you, head popping next to Kamski, scanning the screen of his computer. Your head turned to him for a split second but were quickly brought back to the computer. You looked so serious.

2 February 2036

Connor was sitting on the roof of your house, watching the star. You were sitting next to him when he turned his head, recognising a familiar perfume. A long sight escaped your mouth, and you light up the cigarette you were holding in your hand. Connor eyes are stuck on your face, analysing every trait of your face.

He found you pretty. Not just pretty because of society standards. Real pretty. You smile at him, and he turned his gaze away, feeling warmth spreading to his cheek.

Your hand moved to his face, brushing a strand of hair out of his face, before planted your palm to his hair, cajoling him tenderly. Connor’s eyes dared to turned back to you, and you offered him once again the softest of smile he could see, your finger lost in his hair still.

6 April 2036

“Would you like to see the beach, Connor?”

“I can see the beach whenever i want. I have direct connection to internet and all media that could be related to the beach.” He said, sitting in the sofa, watching you putting a coat.

You rolled your eyes.

“Thanks, Connor, i didn’t know that.” Sarcasm. Of course, you knew, you had created this part yourself. Connor felt silly, his eyes falling to the ground. Did you found him silly? Now, you stand in front of him, glaring at him. “Stop this, i can feel all your wiring running crazy. You’re overthinking.”

“I can’t exactly overthink, it’s not in my program.”

“Well, for an android, you sure aren’t.” You hand him a jacket, and he took it, eyes wondering to yours. “I meant a real beach. Bet you don’t have the smell of the ocean in your hardware.”

“That’s correct.”

“Come on.” You whispered, a soft smile spreading on your lips.

After crossing the ocean, he found himself in a beach in France, the Atlantic Ocean spreading all over his eyes, you and your dog at his side.

“So, what do you think.” you asked, noticing his gaze lost in the waves.

He doesn’t answer, too focused on the sound of waves, the smell of the ocean, the wind in his air, the warmth of the sun during spring.

It’s astonishing, he thought to himself.

4 August 2039 somewhere in a tower in Detroit

A loud barked echoes in the room. You just got the time to turned around, watching not one, but two ball of fur running toward you.

“Look who i found outside.” Markus said, a laugh escaping his mouth.

“Oh, i missed you, sweet girl” You whispered, kneeling on the ground to welcome your dog.

The second dog, much bigger than yours, licked your face, asking for affection too.

“I missed you too, Sumo” you said, patting his head.

“I was walking nearby, thought i pooped up to say hello.” A rock voice said at the other side of the room.

“You know you're always welcome here, Hank.” You said, patting the man’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you too, kid.” He said, his arm sneaking around your shoulder. “With your disappearance with Mystery Hack, i really started to think you were dead.”

“No, pretty much alive, thanks for worrying.”

Markus exits the room, leaving the both of you with the dogs.

“How is everything going around?” Hank asked, looking at all the computer in front of him.

“It’s time.” You told him.

Later that day at the precinct.

Connor’s partner had his head flat on the table, resting, bored. Sometime, Connor could hear him pout loudly. It was quiet, nothing needed to be done. Even Connor could say he was bored if he wasn’t a machine. His finger tapped on the wood of the table every 2 seconds, wondering on the same page he was admiring since… Since what felt like forever.

The light above his head started clicking, turning on and off for a few seconds. Connor frowned, looking at the light, before his head turned to the TV, the screen pacing from the news to snow. He shook his partner arm, waking him up, pointing the TV.

“It’s nothing.” He said, putting back his head on the cold desk.

In Detroit tower.

“Live in 5 minutes” North said to you.

You took your jewels off, leaving them on the side of the table before heading toward the set, your heels echoing on the soft ground. Wearing them weren’t exactly your favourite part. But as any other Host, you needed to be at your best. Especially tonight.

Markus gave you his thumbs up, and you put the mask on, before heading toward the sofa, sitting in the chair, near the white board. You crossed your legs, hand resting on your knees.

“Live in 2 minutes.” North continued.

The set fell quiet, everyone eyes darting around, making sure everything was in place. And it was. As usual.

“Live in 3… 2” You breathe in. “1… Go” You breathe out. The hacking game was on the road, and the light turned green. Another success.

“Hello everyone. Did you miss us? We surely missed you.” You uncrossed your legs, raising from the seat. “On today’s topic… The android revolution.” Behind you, started playing record from the 11th November 2038. “You might wonder, why? Especially since what happened last time we evoked this subject. Well, i have something to admit. You probably know, i wouldn’t be able to assume all this work by myself, i am only human. But first, let’s rewind the time.” Stepping aside, your hand moved to the screen where you could see Markus’s speech, then, the first manifestation.

You stayed quiet, letting the images take their importance before you continue.

“We’ve all witnessed the rise of the android as a new form of life. And, we’ve all witness the fall, just as fast as the ascension. The government, to frighten by a possible threat.” You smirked. “Frighten by a peaceful demonstration. Take the irony.” Walking forward the camera, you continued. “I was disappointed. I know, many of you were disappointed, too. Markus succeeded to allies all the android and the public opinion to his cause, and for what?” Once again, you turned to the screen, the display of Markus and Connor fight playing. “For it to be ended by the deviant hunter.” In front of you, Markus was presumed killed by Connor. “Tragic. And, the life of the android is ended. All the androids remaining had been killed. Has anyone heard anything from Cyberlife since? I wonder.”

You sat back on the couch as the screen turned black, crossing back your legs.

“Yes, and i used the word kill, they slaughter them, like their life meant nothing.”

On the white board, appeared the words “We are alive” and the logo of the android revolution.

“Cyberlife didn’t end the production. Android are still being created, while their mind is getting check to look for any sign of deviancy. For now, nothing is working, and the bug is still in their program. Many deviants made the news at the time. For example, the android who killed that man in Detroit and escape with a girl. I remember them crossing Detroit main road, purchased by the deviant hunter himself. Remember, we spoke about him earlier, even in the latest show.” You leaned on the chair. “Do you know why she was running with that girl? I’ll give you the answer since the media and the government hide it from you, She killed the girl father because he was violent and abused both of them. Kara, did this only to protect that girl. Would this story had worked if they wanted all of us to hate and be afraid of androids.” You nodded “And, ever since, all media hide the deviant story. Because it is not over. And, the government doesn’t want you to know it. They are scared.” You looked at your watch. Still plenty of time.

North gave you a thumbs up, they were far from founding you. Good.

“I have, always, been honest with you. And i won’t stop so far. Actually, i will make the announcement now. I said i wasn’t working alone. I have a crew of thousand and thousand people. But not only people. We work alongside androids, what you call deviant. We work together, in harmony. The closest people i work with are android. I know who they are, what they feel. I know, they are alive. Probably more empathetic than human.” A laugh escaped your lips. “I mean, have you seen them? Far more peaceful than we, human, ever were.”

“We are here to defend them. To make sure they get the right they deserved. If it takes years and years, then, we will fight as long as it takes. This is no call for war, but a message of hope we bring to you. This, is the beginning of our project.” You look at your watch again. “Well, this is it for today. We will see you soon enough. Until the next time, thank you for being here and remember, the government lies to you.”

You raised from your seat, turning around, back to the camera.

“It’s only them now.” North said, telling you, they succeed to isolate the message to only the FBI.

“You failed again to find us agent. Trust me, it won’t be easy. You will only be able to find us when we want to be found. Until then.”

The screen turned black.

FBI Station

Connor sat at his desk, watching as all the best hackers in the world failed again to found the mystery hack. And, despite the new information, they didn’t find anything important.

Mystery hack wasn’t just a project, it was a way to allies public opinion with them, to help rise the android revolution. They worked with androids.

Who could they be?

Hello everyone, i am back, finally. It feel so good to be able to write again. I hope you will enjoyed this small part, do let me know if anything feels strange or different.

See you guys.

#connor dbh x reader #connor rk800 x reader #connor rk800 #connor x reader #dbh connor

76 notes · View notes

damn-funny · 4 months ago

Text

Dumb Life Hacks That Somehow Work

Let’s be honest: sometimes the best solutions come from the most ridiculous ideas. You know the ones—life hacks so absurd that they make you question reality, yet somehow, against all odds, they actually work. If you’re looking to add some chaos to your life while also making things a little easier, here are some dumb life hacks that are surprisingly effective.

1. Microwave Two Bowls at Once Need to heat up two bowls but only have one turntable? Place one bowl on the microwave plate and use a cup or mug to elevate the second bowl. It looks ridiculous, but it evenly heats both meals at the same time. Efficiency at its finest.

2. Use a Fork to Dunk Oreos Tired of getting your fingers covered in milk when dunking Oreos? Just stick a fork into the creamy center and dip away. It’s life-changing, and you’ll wonder why you didn’t do this sooner.

3. Mark Your Luggage with a Sock Forget fancy luggage tags—just tie an old, brightly colored sock to your suitcase handle. No one will mistake it for theirs, and you’ll spot it instantly at baggage claim. Bonus points if the sock is weird enough to make people do a double-take.

4. Use a Stapler Remover to Save Your Nails Ever struggled to put a key on a keyring, only to end up with broken nails? Use a stapler remover to pry the ring open without destroying your fingers. It’s one of those “why didn’t I think of that?” moments.

5. Wrap a Rubber Band Around a Paint Can Dipping a brush in paint always leads to messy drips. Solve this by stretching a rubber band across the opening of the can and wiping the brush against it. No more excess paint on the rim, and way less mess.

6. Use a Dustpan to Fill a Bucket Ever tried to fit a big bucket under a small sink? Instead of struggling, grab a dustpan, place the wide end under the faucet, and let the handle direct the water into the bucket. It’s a low-effort solution that just works.

7. Cool a Drink Fast with a Wet Paper Towel Need a cold drink ASAP? Wrap your bottle or can in a wet paper towel and pop it in the freezer for 10-15 minutes. It cools much faster than just sticking it in there alone. Science!

These life hacks may seem questionable, but once you try them, you’ll realize their genius. Have any dumb-but-effective hacks of your own? Share them and spread the wisdom of absurd brilliance! For more hilarious life tips and humor, check out our funny Tumblr blog!

#damn-funny #life hacks

15 notes · View notes

marozzoespabakingcooking · 4 months ago

Text

Charlotte Chocolate Mousse Cake

Ingredient lists

Chocolate mousse (x2)

3 egg yolks

75g sugar

250ml milk

3 gelatin sheets (1 teaspoon gelatin powder)

150g chocolate 55% cocoa

270g heavy cream

Chocolate lady fingers & base:

5 eggs

150g sugar

60g flour

60g corn starch

10g cocoa powder

Chocolate insertion:

100g chocolate 70% cocoa

80g heavy cream

40g milk

20g sugar

20g butter

Decoration:

Some chocolate to make shavings out of.

(Sugar pearls, optional)

(Ribbon, optional)

Material:

Baking circle 27cm Ø

Cooking thermometer

Instructions:

Lady fingers:

Seperate the sugar in two halves.

Seperate the white & the yolks

Beat the egg whites with an electric whisk. When they become foamy, add 1/3 of one of the sugar halves. Once they become firm, add 1/3 of the sugar. Beat one minute and add the last 1/3 for a minute.

Beat the yolks with the second half of sugar until they become fluffy and whiten.

Mix together the whites, yolks, flour, starch & cocoa powder. Mix well but gently, not to loose air.

Make a disk about the size of your baking circle base.

Make lots of lady fingers with a piping bag. Size them to be slightly over your baking circle. As I like them to have a flat bottom, I make lady fingers twice the size, that I will cut in the midde to make proper lady fingers. Cover with icing sugar, wait 10min, cover with icing sugar again just before baking.

Bake the base & lady fingers at 170°C for 10-15min.

Place the disk on the bottom of the baking circle, and place the lady fingers on the wall of the circle. You can use the disk to push the lady fingers in place. Make sure the lady fingers compress each other.

Mousse (1/2):

Hack the chocolate in pieces.

Rehydrate the gelatin sheets in cold water (or for powder, mix the powder with a tiny bit of hot water).

Beat the yolks with the sugar until they become fluffy and whiten.

Put the milk to boil, then melt the chocolate in the milk. Then pour on the yolk and mix with a whisk.

Put the mix in a pan, and under gentle heat, whisk until it reaches 83°C.

Take off the stove and add the gelatin. Mix well and whisk for 5min.

Put in a bowl and wait until it cooks down to room temperature.

Once cooled down, whisk the heavy cream to a whipped cream.

Mix the whipped cream and chocolate mix together.

Pour into the baking circle and place in the fridge for a couple of hours to solidify.

Chocolate insertion:

Hack the chocolate in small pieces and dice the butter.

Put the cream, milk and sugar together in a pan and put to a boil.

Take off the stove and mix in the chocolate and butter.

Place in a bowl and wait to cool down to room temperature.

When cooled down and once the mousse solidified, pour the chocolate ganache on top of the mousse.

Place for an hour in the fridge.

Chocolate mousse (2/2)

Do the same as the first one, with the same quantity of ingredients.

Once the ganache has solidified, pour on top and store for a couple of hours

Decoration & finishing touch:

Using a vegetable peeler (or knife), shave a chocolate tablet on top of the cake to decorate it.

For extra visual touch, add some sugar pearls on the top.

Place the cake back in the fridge.

Wait for a few hours until the chocolate mousse has fully hardened.

Remove the baking circle, making sure not to dammage the lady fingers.

For even more extra visual touch, add a ribbon around the cake and make a pretty knot!

#recipes #baking #baking recipes #dessert #baking recipe #cake #mousse #mousse cake #chocolate mousse cake #chocolate cake #chocolate #lady fingers

13 notes · View notes

autumnshighlady · 1 year ago

Text

I've Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 26)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: Eris has yet another surprise for you, and a secret is revealed

warnings: feyre slander, slightly nsfw towards the end

word count: 5.7k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: this is a filler chapter, sorry if it's boring! wedding is coming up next chapter i think. also so sorry the taglist got messed up somewhere halfway through teh fic and it wasn't actually tagging people so if you haven't been tagged like 15 chapters i fixed it now im so sorry!

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18 / part 19 / part 20 / part 21 / part 22 / part 23 / part 24 / part 25 /

read on ao3

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

A throbbing headache greeted you as you peeled your eyes open, the bright rays of sunshine coming in through the window directly onto your face. You groaned, mouth dry as sand. Regret over those last few drinks washed over you as you rolled over, body shaky as you pushed yourself up.

“Morning!” Gwyn’s voice sounded through your blurry vision – her normally soft tone was ear-splitting due to your hangover.

“Ugh, please tone down your mouth noises.” You grumbled, rubbing your temples and yawning.

The redhead rolled her eyes, handing you a tray. “That’s what you get for drinking so much. A servant brought us a tray each for breakfast. Drink water and the tonic, you’ll feel better.”

You sighed, trying to fight off the hangover shakes as you reached for the tray. On the golden platter was a glass of water, a vial of liquid meant to ease how shitty you felt, and a plate with toast, eggs, fruit, and thick slices of bacon. The food smelled heavenly, but your stomach churned in protest. So you quickly downed the tonic before slowly sipping water, your throat no longer feeling like a desert.

Nesta had joined Gwyn on the bed in the far corner in an effort to get Emerie to sit up. The Illyrian female protested, eyes squeezed shut as she cursed the sun for being so bright. Despite your state, you snorted. At least you were better off than Emerie.

“Come on,” Nesta insisted. “You have to at least have a sip of water.”

Emerie shook her head vehemently, then cursed, dizzied. “No. I’m gonna die if I move another inch.”

Gwyn reached down to Emerie’s tray and grabbed the glass of water, bringing it up to her lips. “Here, that way you won’t have to move.” The hungover female protested, but Gwyn tilted the glass up anyways, forcing the water into her mouth. She sputtered for a second, but eventually swallowed some of the cold liquid.

With Gwyn now settled coaxing water into Emerie, Nesta headed towards your bed, smirking. “Morning, sunshine.” She said coolly. Her hair was loose and messy around her shoulders, eyes slightly red from the lack of sleep. But she still looked incredible, despite having drank more than you.

“Not fair.” You complained, rubbing your dry eyes again and scowling at your mate. “I drank half as much as you and you seem perfectly fine.”

Nesta plopped down beside you, shrugging. “Perk of drinking myself half to death for a few months, I guess.” She joked, then motioned to your bacon. “Are you going to eat that?”

“Go for it.” You shook your head. “I can’t imagine eating anything right now.”

A wider smirk came over Nesta’s face as she popped the bacon into her mouth, blue-grey eyes going up and down your body. “I can.”

You blushed, smacking her with your pillow. “What has gotten into you?” You hissed playfully so that Gwyn and Emerie wouldn’t hear. Your body had responded to her words instantly, heating up even more and making you squirm.

She shrugged, taking the second piece of bacon off your plate as well. “I’m just glad I can finally show appreciation for my mate without worrying about someone hacking my head off for it.”

“Fair enough.”

The four of you picked away at your breakfasts in silence, much to you and Emerie’s relief. The tonic began to work after twenty minutes, your headache slowly easing up and the fog around your brain clearing. Eventually, Eris and Azriel came through the doors, stifling their laughs at how hungover or sleep deprived you all were. After saying goodbye to your friends, Emerie grumbled something about the likelihood of throwing up all over Azriel as she took his hand, preparing to winnow. Gwyn’s cheeks flushed slightly as she took Azriel’s other hand, the spymaster’s shadows curling around her slender wrist. You raised an eyebrow at her, but she blushed harder and refused to meet your gaze.

After Azriel, Gwyn, and Emerie left, Nesta left for the bathing chambers to freshen up while you flopped back down into the bed, pulling the sheets over your head. “I’m staying here all day,” You declared. “Nobody wake me.”

You heard Eris chuckle, feeling the bed shift as he sat down beside you. He yanked the sheets down, and you whined in protest. “Eris!” You cried out. “Please, I’m so hungover. I just want to rot in this bed all day.”

“Too bad,” Eris said with a delighted grin on his face. “Because I have another surprise for you.”

You groaned, turning onto your stomach and burying your face into the pillow. “I cannot handle another surprise right now.”

“Trust me. You’ll want to see this. Now get out of bed.”

“Fuck you.”

“You wish. Now get up.”

When you didn’t move, strong hands grabbed your waist, pulling you into the air with surprising strength and flinging you over the High Lord’s shoulder. You yelped, the blood rushing to your head as Eris gripped the back of your thighs, holding you steady as he walked.

“Put. Me. Down. Right. Now.” You hissed through gritted teeth, stomach churning as the world swayed around you.

“Absolutely not.” Eris quipped, squeezing your legs once and he strode down the hallway. “Besides, you’re too hungover to use any of those sneaky moves the shadowsinger taught you. So suck it up, do not vomit on me, and thank me later for dragging you out of bed.”

You groaned as Eris carried you up a winding staircase with ease, your upper body swaying across his back. “Where are you even taking me?” You asked, defeated.

“Your surprise is out on the private balcony.”

“What is the surprise?”

Eris snorted. “Mother above, you and Nesta are the worst when it comes to surprises, you know that? Nosy creatures.”

“You could have at least given me time to prepare.” You grumbled, realising you were still in your pyjamas.

“So you’d rather I have told you I had a surprise in advance and then let you stew over it for a whole day, leaving you in limbo before finally revealing it?”

You rolled your eyes, knowing he had a point. You didn’t answer, and Eris laughed victoriously. “Thought so.” He said smugly.

Finally, after climbing up a mountain’s worth of staircases, Eris finally set you down. You wobbled, legs unsteady and clinging to the High Lord for balance as you adjusted to being upright again. A large wooden door stood in front of you, elegant whirling carvings along the edges. You shivered at the bone chilling cold of the stairwell, and Eris was quick to drape his warm cloak over your shoulders.

“Thanks.” You said before shooting him a glare. “But if you throw me over your shoulder like that again, I will nail your balls to the wall.”

Pure predatory smirk overcame Eris’s face as he met your gaze evenly. “Oh, please. We both know you enjoyed being tossed around.”

Your cheeks burned, unable to deny that his words rang partially true. You slapped his arm, and hissed at him, “This surprise better be worth it.”

“Oh, I know it is. Once again, feel free to use your spare time to brainstorm all the ways you can thank me later.” Eris simply winked, turning the knob and pushing the door open. You squinted, eyes taking a second to adjust to the bright morning sunlight that glared at you.

Stepping through the doorway onto the breezy balcony, your eyes began to focus. A tall, male figure stood a few feet away, the rays of the sun shining behind him and casting him in an otherworldly glow. Strands of red hair blew in the breeze, the light reflecting off of a familiar golden eye.

“Lucien…” Your voice was barely above a whisper as tears began to pool in your eyes at the sight of your friend coming into view. His golden skin shone in the light of Autumn, his red hair half tied back, revealing his chiselled, handsome face. It was filled with a mix of emotions as he stared back at you – awe, happiness, regret, all at once.

“Hey there, (Y/N).” Lucien said softly, lips pulling up in a smile.

All nausea and dizziness vanished as you surged forward, running towards your old friend. Your heart raced with excitement as you leapt into his outstretched arms, burying your face in his shoulder. There was no hope at stopping the sobs that choked up your throat, so you let them out. Lucien’s strong arms wrapped around you, holding you up as you clung onto his tall form.

Time was askew as you hugged him. It could have been hours or seconds for all you knew. You hadn’t seen Lucien since those few minutes after you escaped Rhys’s prison, all those weeks ago.

Eventually, Lucien gently set you down. You turned around to ask Eris how he had found and gotten his brother here so quickly, but your mate had slipped away, leaving you alone with Lucien. When you turned back to your friend, his remaining eye simmered with emotion. “I’ve missed you.” He said, squeezing your hands in his own.

“I’ve missed you, too.” You said through tears. “I’m so sorry, Lucien.”

He frowned. “What do you possibly have to be sorry for?”

“For everything,” You gulped. “For everything you’ve been through, for how you’ve been treated. For not trying to find you sooner–”

Lucien interrupted you sternly. “No. Do not say that. None of this is your fault. You’re safe, that’s all that matters. I’m sorry, too.”

“What do you possibly have to be sorry for?” You threw his words back at him playfully, despite the sadness still lacing your voice.

Lucien squeezed your hands again, regret crossing his kind face. “For not fighting harder for you.”

Your heart cracked a bit at his broken voice. Lucien was the best male you had ever known, always putting others above himself no matter the personal cost. “You showed up with armies from the Spring Court to get me back. I’d hardly call that not fighting for me.”

“I meant before that. Feyre and Rhys told me that you were enjoying Velaris and your new missions as a spy, which was why you hadn’t come to visit me. They even went so far as to bring me a scarf claiming it was from you. I simply believed them, and didn’t question it. It wasn’t until Azriel found me and told me the truth about your situation that I realised what was going on.”

“Lucien–” You tried to speak, to reassure him that he was not at fault here, but your friend cut you off sharply.

“No, it is not okay.” He said sternly. “I should have known better. I had never trusted Rhysand, but decided to take his word for it anyways. I was living in the human lands minding my own business while you were being tortured by that scumbag. And I will carry that guilt with me for the rest of my life. I failed you, (Y/N). And I am deeply sorry.”

You smiled sadly. “Listen to me. You did not lock me up. You did not deceive people. You did not have anything to do with what happened to me. That was Rhys and Feyre. They failed me, not you. And I made it out, that’s all that matters. You risked your life going back to Tamlin and raising the armies for me. If you really wish to seek penance for your guilt, consider that your debt paid.”

Lucien sighed, shaking his head. “I just can’t believe they put you through that.”

“I can.” You snorted, leading him over to the soft couch by the marble railing, overlooking the vast forest below.

“With Rhys, yes I agree.” Lucien said as he settled down next to you. “But Feyre… the girl I knew who went under the mountain would not have ripped open a court of innocent people for petty reasons. Before Rhys took her away, she gave her own jewels to a poor citizen who did not have enough money to pay the Tithe. It seemed that every time she went away to the Night Court with him, pieces of her slowly chipped away and were replaced with new ones that Rhys created. She was so young, so vulnerable, and now she’s completely under his spell. The fact she could let any of this happen to you disgusts me, and I am ashamed that she manipulated me into believing she was a better friend to me than I ever was to her.”

The autumn breeze soothed your warm face, the fresh air clearing your foggy mind as you drank in the beauty of the view. Lucien was right – the Feyre you had heard about in the stories of Under the Mountain was not the Feyre you had met. As much as you resented her, you couldn’t help but spare her a shred of pity. “She chose her path,” You said steadily. “Just as I have chosen mine.”

Lucien fiddled with the rings on his fingers, playfully elbowing your ribs. “Your path as High Lady and my awful brother’s wife, you mean.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him back. “He’s not so bad.”

Lucien laughed sharply, a beautiful sound you had missed dearly. “Ok, sure. Come talk to me in a few centuries when you’ve had enough of his bullshit and are debating throwing him off a cliff.”

“Eris seems so enamoured with me, I’m sure all I’d have to do would be to tell him to go fling himself off the cliff and he’d happily do so without question.”

“Unfortunately, I think you’re right.”

The two of you chuckled, just like old times. You adjusted Eris’s cloak, wrapping it tighter around your body. His scent filled your nostrils, filling you with content. “Lucien,” You said hesitantly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” The male replied with confidence.

You took a breath before speaking. “Eris is my mate. He has been extremely good to me throughout all this, but you’ve known him and this court almost your whole life. What am I truly getting into by marrying him?”

Lucien was silent for a moment, as if contemplating his answer. Regardless, you knew nothing he could say would change your mind. You wanted to marry Eris, and you knew he would look out for you. But marriage and the workings of Autumn? it was still unknown territory for you.

“Eris has always been a puzzle,” Lucien said slowly. “For as a long as I can remember, he’s been difficult to figure out. Everything he does is for a reason, and sometimes I can never figure it out. He switches personalities so fast it makes my head spin, and I could never tell what kind of male he truly was because of it. He was an excellent brother when Beron was not around, but the second he entered the room Eris became a different person.

“But it’s different with you. He’s different around you and Nesta, like he’s beginning to thaw. I think it will take a while for him to get used to not having to pretend to be Beron’s prodigy. But with time, he will soften up. Eris knows what he wants and will do anything to get it. He will protect you with unyielding loyalty, even if at times he may seem aloof. There will be times where you grow frustrated with him, and he may shut you out. But from what I’ve seen, I have no doubt that the three of you will be able to work things out. As for this court, give it time. The people can be frosty. Do not show weakness, for they will devour every ounce of exposed flesh like starved vultures. With the right leadership, I do believe it can change. But be patient, and unyielding.”

You mulled over Lucien’s words. He was right – it would be ridiculous to think everything would be smooth sailing from here. Being mates did not mean any complications in your dynamic would be immediately soothed over. It would take a long time for you to recover from and process everything that happened since you were sent to the House of Wind. Just as it would take a long time for Nesta to be comfortable with bathtubs and crackling fire. There would be challenges and disagreements, but at your core you knew it was nothing the three of you couldn’t manage.

“And how do you feel about us all together?” You asked. “Me, Nesta, and Eris, I mean.”

Lucien shrugged. “I see no issue with it. As long as the three of you are happy, that’s all that matters.”

“I wish the rest of this court felt that way.” You sighed. “They didn’t react well.”

He barked out a laugh. “No, I can’t imagine they did.”

You tilted your head back, letting the sun warm your face as you sighed. “So, when did you manage to sneak in here? I assume your banishment is lifted.”

“Yes, it is. Eris brought me here yesterday. I spent the day with my mother. Thank you, by the way, for what you did for her.”

Your heart swelled with happiness. You knew how much Lirilla loved Lucien, how much it pained your friend to be away from his mother for so long. She had a soft spot for him, as he was the least cruel out of all her sons. Every day you thanked the Mother that Lucien had not turned out like Beron.

In the distance, three dragons circled the air, sunning their wings in the rays of sunshine. Their gentle cries rumbled throughout the air like a song carried by the breeze. You snuck a glance at Lucien, whose eyes were fixed on the beasts circling the mountains in the distance. “Eris really did it.” He mumbled as Athariel spun upwards and around Zorzimril.

You whipped your head around. “You KNEW he had dragons?”

Lucien was awestruck as he continued observing the creatures. “Technically, yes. But I never believed him. When I was younger, Eris showed me 3 unusual rocks, claiming that they were dragon eggs. We played with them for hours, and I helped him build a nest to keep them warm. He swore me to secrecy, saying it was our own little game. He told me one day the eggs would hatch, and would grow into three big dragons. Then he, myself, and my mother could each climb on one and fly away from everything.” Lucien’s voice grew sombre, his eye darkening as he continued. “Then one day we found the rocks broken, and Eris told me the dragons had flown away after hatching. I was devastated, I had wanted to see one so badly. But he said they were gone, and I was to never breathe a word about them to anyone. I guess the slippery prick found them and raised them in secret on his own.”

“How did Eris keep dragons a secret from everyone?”

“Keeping secrets is one of his many talents. As I am sure you know very well since he hid the fact he knew that he was your mate.”

You snorted at the jibe, rolling your eyes. “Wow, so you really know everything then, don’t you?”

Lucien laughed, stretching his arms and resting his hands behind his head. The image reminded you of a cat sunning itself in the window. “Unfortunately, yes.” He said. “Eris and my mother filled me in. Among other things.”

You frowned. “Among other things? What does that mean?”

Lucien’s expression was grave, and he turned to face you. His golden eye gleamed in the sunlight but was equally intense as his regular eye as he stared you down. “Promise me that what I’m about to say, you keep to yourself, Eris, my mother, and Nesta.” He said seriously.

Confused, you nodded. Lucien took a deep breath before continuing. “Beron was not my father, apparently.”

You blinked in surprise, but bit your tongue. Lucien had always looked slightly different than his brothers, but you had never really thought twice about it. “My mother had an affair with Helion of the Day Court,” Lucien admitted, his voice hollow as if he didn’t even believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. “I’m his son, not Beron’s.”

Your jaw was slack. “Wow…” You muttered. “Does Helion know?”

Lucien shook his head. “No. But my mother has always been in love with him. It will take her a while to adjust to a reality without Beron hovering over her shoulder, to allow herself to love him openly. If that is what she desires, of course.”

“And what about you?” You asked your friend. “What do you want from all this? I mean… how does it feel?”

Lucien’s expression was distant, as if his mind was elsewhere. It wasn’t hard to tell by the way his jaw tensed that he was thinking of his childhood with his father, remembering every cruel word and ruthless fist he endured. How maybe if things had been different, he could have been spared Beron’s suffering and been raised by Helion – a father who did not delight in torturing his sons. Lucien had a rough life, one that did not seem to be getting any easier. From being banished from Autumn Court to living in a state of uneasy limbo with his mate who seemingly wanted nothing to do with him, Lucien’s life was never truly stable. He was always bouncing from one place to another, never truly fitting in.

You hoped that with his banishment lifted, Lucien would choose to come back to Autumn. After months of being separated from your best friend, you wanted nothing more than to have him back by your side.

“I’m not quite sure,” Lucien finally answered. “On the one hand, I am glad I am not actually Beron’s son. But Helion being my father changes very little. I was raised by Beron, and for better or for worse I am the way I am because I was a part of his family. In my blood, I am Autumn Court and always will be.”

“But Helion has no other children,” You pointed out carefully. “Which technically makes you the heir to the Day Court, whether you like it or not.”

He shook his head. “It is a power and title I do not want. I’ve never desired to be a Lord of anything, especially not one of an entire court.”

You smiled softly, leaning your head into his shoulder and sighing contently. “I know. That’s why you’re such a good male.”

Lucien wrapped his arm around your shoulder and squeezed you closer to him. “I will let my mother choose what to do about Helion.” He continued. “She may well want to forget the whole thing and leave the past behind. If that is her wish, I am content to go along with it. If she wants to rekindle a relationship with him, then she may tell him that I am his son, and we would go from there. Besides, not all of us are High Lord power hungry like you.”

You laughed, squeezing your eyes shut. “You’re going to make fun of me for becoming High Lady of your court for as long as we live, aren’t you?”

“Of course.” Lucien purred. “Someone has to keep you humble so that power doesn’t get to that pretty head of yours.”

“Careful,” You teased, grinning. “Or I’ll force you to scribe notes during all the council meetings for a decade.”

“Never mind, reinstate my banishment and bounty, please. I’d prefer that over being your note boy for your and your mates’ stuffy meetings.”

Your laughter echoed across the wind, just as Zorzimril let out a playful screech in the distance. For a few minutes, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, until your curiosity got the better of you, and you asked, “So… speaking of mates, has anything happened with Elain?”

The male sighed, rubbing his face with his free hand. You felt a muscle in his neck twitch at the mention of her name, an instinctual reaction like the mere mention of her rang a bell inside him. “No,” He said stiffly. “And frankly, at this point I wish that she would just sever the bond if she wanted nothing to do with me. It’s agonising. And Feyre and Rhys keep her cloistered away, knowing it would be too hard for me to try and visit her after everything that’s happened. I want Elain to be happy, even if it’s not with me, but I truly don’t think she would be happy in the Night Court. I just… I just want her out of there. To give her a chance to choose her own life.”

“From what I’ve seen, she seems content to let her sister choose her life for her.” You kept your words delicate, not wanting to offend Lucien. As much as he was your friend, he was still a mated male – and now you understood that protectiveness he likely felt.

“I think the Archeron sisters need to be apart from each other.” Lucien said, stiffening but not snarling at your comment. “They’ve all been through a lot, and none of us will ever truly understand the history they have because we did not live it. Nesta needs this freedom here in Autumn to build a life for herself after everything was taken away from her. Feyre, for all her faults, needed to be loved in a way that was different from how her sisters loved her, and now she seems to have that. Elain… Elain has been coddled by both of them, from what I’ve heard. She needs to stand on her own two feet and figure out what she wants and how she can navigate this new life by herself.”

You picked at one of the threads of the cushion. “And you want to help Elain do that? Even if it means she severs the bond?”

He nodded. “Yes. I will not lie and say I would not be upset if she chose to do so, but she deserves the choice. We all do. Besides, isn’t Nesta planning on severing her bond with Cassian?”

“We don’t think there’s even a bond.” You admitted, stomach fluttering with nerves at the mention of Cassian’s name. The three of you still hadn’t figured out how you’d deal with that. “It’s a touchy subject. But we know he isn’t her mate.”

Lucien’s brows furrowed. “But Rhys said Cassian was her mate.”

“And you’re going to suddenly start taking his word now?”

“Point taken.” He corrected himself.

“Something about the whole situation is just weird.” You muttered. “Maybe a link between them is some kind of punishment from the Cauldron. Azriel is investigating it secretly.”

Your friend raised an eyebrow. “He’s still in the Night Court? After everything he did to go against Rhys?”

“Yup. I think Rhys knows he’s too valuable to lose at the end of the day, which is why his head isn’t on the chopping block. Azriel is good at playing both sides I guess.”

That comfortable silence fell over you for another few minutes as you happily existed in each other’s company. You huddled into Lucien’s warmth, begrudgingly knowing Eris was right and this had been worth getting violently dragged out of bed.

Later, you would think of ways to thank him.

An idea formed in your head as you thought of your mate. You propped yourself up, turning to face your friend. “Lucien?” You asked hesitantly.

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Can I ask you to do something for me?”

“Sure.”

You took a deep breath, wringing your hands together before blurting out, “Would you walk me down the aisle at the wedding?”

Lucien blinked in surprise, and then a grin spread across his face. “Really?”

You smiled. “Yes. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have giving me away.”

“Giving you away? I thought you wanted to smash all archaic male-oriented traditions in this court.”

“Don’t be an ass.” You smacked his arm playfully. “I do. But… I won’t have any of my family at the wedding like I always imagined as a child, and you’re the next closest thing. I just want you by my side, that’s all.”

Lucien reached forward, wrapping his big arms around you in an embrace. “Of course I will.” He muttered, squeezing you tight. “Thank you for allowing me the honour.”

The dragons screeched happily in the distance, reflecting the content you felt in your chest. So you inhaled your friend’s familiar scent mixed with the fresh autumn air. Everything you had done to get to this point was all worth it.

*********************

You all but skipped down the hallway towards Eris’s office in the private library. After hours of talking, Lucien had left to go on a ride through the forest with Lirilla. You had briefly bathed and changed, freshening up to remove the lingering mustiness from your body after the sleepover and alcohol.

You felt ten times lighter as you swung open the door with a force so strong the expensive knob bounded off the wall. Eris’s head snapped up from where he sat in a plush armchair, a mountain of papers in his hand. He was dressed in a billowy white shirt, the laces at the neckline undone and ever-so-slightly pushed open, revealing part of his toned chest. Red hair was tied back loosely behind his neck, and he raised an eyebrow. “Where’s the fire?” He asked dryly.

You simply bounded across the room in three steps and flung yourself into Eris’s arms, crawling into his lap and pressing your lips against his. His eyebrows shot up and he let out a muffled noise of surprise, but brought his hands up to your hips and pulled you closer. He tasted like cinnamon and coffee, melting in your mouth as you kissed him fiercely.

Your skin tingled at the sensation of his hands on your hips as they slowly crept downwards, giving your backside a firm squeeze. The mating bond was practically purring in your chest at the contact, urging you to give into your desires. But you reigned yourself in, finally pulling your lips away from Eris’s after your lungs begged for air.

The High Lord smirked up at you, face flushed from your kiss. “I take it you liked your surprise?” His hands stayed on your backside, gently gliding up your hips then back down.

You nodded, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him. “You’re amazing. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

He chuckled, letting his lips drag over the shell of your ear as he spoke. “You’re very welcome, my dear.”

You pulled away, tangling your hands in Eris’s hair, tugging on the end of the locks right by his scalp. The High Lord tilted his chin back and let out a breath, eyelids fluttering as he grinned. You leaned down and pressed your lips to the column of his newly exposed throat. Underneath you, Eris shuddered as you grazed your teeth up his warm, pale skin before pressing a kiss just below his jaw. “What exactly do you think you’re doing, little fox?” He asked, but his voice was strained, hands gripping your hips tightly.

“Thanking you.” You purred, moving your head to the other side of his neck and repeating your actions.

Eris swallowed thickly, but chuckled. “Oh, sweet thing. Thanking me properly will have to wait until after the wedding.”

You leaned back, sitting up and frowning with confusion. Your mate’s subtle rejection stung slightly. “Seriously? I didn’t peg you for the wait until after marriage type.”

“I’m not,” He corrected, sliding his hands up from your hips and onto your lower back, pulling you closer to him once again. “Believe me, I want nothing more than to take you against this very desk and bury myself between your thighs until time loses all meaning. But I have plans for how I want to fuck you, the both of you. And it involves waiting a little longer. Can you do that for me?”

You nodded, but stuck out your bottom lip ever so slightly. Eris smacked your rear sternly. “Don’t pout,” He scolded. “Brats don’t get nice things. And you’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

“When I feel like it.” You shrugged playfully. Eris’s grin widened like a cat that had just eaten the canary.

“Oh, I am going to have so much fun with you.” His voice was a slick purr, heating up your skin as if his very own fire was running through your veins. Eris pressed a kiss to your cheek, then tapped your hip. “Now, I hate to brush you off like this, but as you can see I have a mountain of paperwork to get through before the wedding to make sure everything is in order. Nesta needs your help in the main hall, she’s all alone with those wedding planners and threatened to shave my head if I don’t send you to her the second you’re done with Lucien.”

You crawled off his lap, rolling your eyes playfully. “Aw, poor High Lord has paperwork.” You said mockingly. “You poor pampered thing.”

Eris shot you a glare. “Careful, little fox. Soon enough you’ll have your own mountain of paperwork as High Lady. That is, if you actually want to help me run this court. Unless you’d rather be like little Archeron over in the Night Court and be just a pretty face.”

You crossed your arms defiantly, knowing he was right. “Fine.” You turned on your heel to exit the study, cringing slightly as you noticed the chip in the wall from where you flung the door open.

“Little fox?” Eris called out.

You turned to face him at the door frame. “Yes?”

Eris’s smirk was devilish as he said coolly, “Do not seek out Nesta to satisfy your desires. She and I have already discussed the matter and are on the same page, so she will say the same thing I have told you, that you have to wait until after the wedding. And don’t you dare try to satisfy your urges on your own. If you do, I will know.”

taglist (comment if you want to be added): @queercontrarian @kitkat-writes-stuff @moonfawnx @sevikas-whore @weird-and-wise @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @kingshitonly @ladyofcherries @eerievixen @readingwritingwatching @peacecoffeeandflowers @a-frog-with-a-laptop @shadowqueen25 @lana08 @highladyofillyria @rachelnicolee @ladespedidas @little-darlingo @manonblackbeakquidditchteam13 @demirunner @terorovaerangi @hauntedandhopeful @younxii @microwaveallthedemons @fanfictioniseverything @lovra974 @maddietheshoe @peaceandcrackers @emy1-9 @lostinfantasyworldsbi @issybee0611 @thoughtfulshepherdmongerkid @belledawnidk @whhyyynottt @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @littlebbb @piceous21 @sevendeadlyshins-blog @searchingford @marigold-morelli @thesapphiclibrarian @nikovasbitch @chasing-autumns-chill @the-sweet-psycho @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @red-bees @daughterofthemoons-stuff @bloodicka @blackgirlmagicforever @

85 notes · View notes

quill-of-thoth · 2 months ago

Text

Today's ramen hack: 1) Boil ramen for a minute to 30 seconds less than the package says in the smallest amount of water you can get away with. 2) Strain, reserving about a quarter cup of starch water 3) Throw a splash of oil, a clove of garlic, and an vegetable (mine was five mushrooms and a single rib of celery) in, splosh some worchestershire on, and cook until veggie gets soft. 4) Sprinkle on the seasoning packet, a huge glop of peanut butter, a pinch of sugar and a spoonful of chili crisp. 5) Stir like hell, adding starch water until the peanut butter is not a solid anymore. 6) Add ramen.

#recipes #In case any of you have no idea what to cook at some point

8 notes · View notes

distant--shadow · 5 months ago

Note

For the fic asks, 3, 4, 5, and 9 re: The Witch and The Widow

Thank you Astoria!❣️❣️❣️ Apologies for being so self-indulgent😅🙇‍♂️

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

it’s been picked up a few times in people’s comments, but I do really like describing places. I guess caus it feels nice and easy and I take a lot of joy in the outdoors and find it easy to see things in my mind’s eye. I think what I find most satisfying though is callbacks and repetition, trying to replicate (at least how my) brain works, fixating or relating; grandfather clock ticks and hands that can craft and tool leather and dissect flesh and water carrying rumours and windows that are either stained glass and obscure so she can only track silhouettes and lights going out or are meant for birds and let Imogen be nosey or are second story with a view and the like, how that all plays with the power and class dynamics. Idk if I can really pick one line of narration caus I don’t think I’m good enough (or that sort of writer if I’m being kinder to myself). It’s less about dropping mad bars and more about just tryna really get in Imogen’s head, yknow? create this hopefully comprehensible clusterfuck of happenings that inform her actions and perception and get across her variants of obsession.

(but I will post some snippets anyway)

The room is lit only by the light of the fire. It is both inviting and ominous, allowing the dark shadows of the high ceilings to creep out further into the centre of the room, casting spectral gargoyles from ceramic statues and bedposts, flickering honey hues over fabricked surfaces, tree sap for insects to get trapped in.

***

The stomach (the opening. the cave) is just too large to be illuminated, just too warm and organic and pungent with iron and mildew. There is no furniture, save for a table. A stone slab, monolith fallen perfectly flat, perfectly balanced atop another like a dolmen. Its surface is covered in gore. Her heart begins to hammer in her chest. There are no bones, no teeth, no skin to identify it with, just a thick smear of blood and viscera, stretched sinew and webbed tendrilled tissue, covering the slab of stone like a red lace tablecloth. Imogen gags into the bend of her arm, reluctant to sieve through the rest of the contents of the cave’s stomach, but she does. It ends here, at its belly, a space that only knows eating, a room for only a table. Extravagant, like a mansion

***

Douglas’ left hand rises, though it is not to retrieve his sword from its sheath. The walls sing with the clatter of metal on stone, hammered steel and iron and silver instruments, quaking as if the earth’s stomach were rumbling before its mouth opens. The Baron’s brow lifts in panic, standing from his chair abruptly and causing it to topple to the floor. He turns to his guards, snarling, lungs inhaling in preparation to exhale orders The side of his face is splattered wetly in blood, and then so is the other, as lance pierces through trachea and pins each guard into ex-military tapestry behind his throne. “What on – who?!” The Baron barks, red faced and turning to face the vast hall with its many shadows hoping to see who threw the spears. His eyes bulge. Before him is his armoury, no longer trophied to the walls but filling the air of the room in rows and rows like people in pews like people waiting begging to ask for an audience with him hovering, all tips and points and blades and bludgeons pointing towards him. His last noise is cut by hundreds of edges slicing the air like the sharpest flocks wings, drowned out by sounds of squelching and piercing and hacking and chopping blunt force trauma His body is left riddled with blades, like a seamstress’ pincushion, like the silver and velvet hedgehog that rests on the table, its back spines of ivory toothpicks.

***

The tips of her fingers feel as though exposed raw nerves again, like they had the night before, the scent of Angharad’s arousal still on her hand, a buzzing beneath her veins that feels like pins and needles and restless energy and molten lava replacing the marrow of her bones. But it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt. She feels made of it, and so she is it, and maybe a small amount of acid refluxes up her throat, seeing the Baron skewered by pikes and lances and swords and arrows as if an orange speared with cloves, and she thinks, visualises the flower her own lance, stem shaft grasped in hand, and it moves towards her, denies the ground waiting with open mouth of a certain catch, her heart beats so heavy that it gives rhythm to the floorboards. “Holy shit.” She curses under her breath, the pale petals crowning over the lip of the attic space. She lays her palm out upwards, expectantly, the flower delicately crossing it and causing Imogen to gulp. Her breath trembles, her thumb gently tracing where one of the petals folds over onto another. Her mind becomes a barrage of possibilities, of labour eased, of things rendered attainable that were previously beyond her means, of opportunities- if she were to be seen- It had not been that long since even the innocent were kindling. She understands distance. Understands barred studies and walled-off gardens. ~ As Imogen turns over hay she wonders if it would have the satisfaction and payoff were it not to be done by her hands, if she would lose the lean muscles that define her forearms and biceps, if her shoulders and the base of her spine wouldn’t ache, if she could lift every painting and mirror and carved relief cameo from the manor walls and relieve them from between an opened stained glass window one by one in the night, build an extension piece by piece made of stretched canvas frames and reflective window panes and moulding lining the ceiling made of mosaicked shards of Lords’ and Ladies’ profiles, aquiline noses corner detailing. Would she set up her bedroll in the patchwork extension? Allow herself the right angle of view that is not one from a stable pigeonhole to see the Lady’s silhouette and track its movements?

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

Dialogue is the most fun for me I’m not gonna lie. Anytime Imogen and the lady Laudna interact the words come the easiest, whether that be the times they’re both trying to keep it proper and Imogen’s stuttering or they’re (mostly Laudna) giving more sass. Imogen's dynamic with Angharad was also a lot of fun (eyes emoji) and between that and her both sibling like and playful banter with young Sorcha I think it is an effective way of getting the intricacies of Imogen's many manners across.

I like this section caus I feel it catches their earlier dynamic well.

The Lady watches Imogen expectantly and in silence - rather, quiet - perhaps unaware of how keen she appears. Maybe Imogen should spare more than a thought for possible poisons. The sound the soup makes when she drinks it from the spoon is loud, slurping, on a different time signature to the metronome of the grandfather clock, out of place, despite her outfitting. Imogen swallows. “You keep y’self busy.” “Pardon?” It had admittedly sounded like an instruction. “Sorry, I mean ya do a lot with your time. I see you outside gettin’ your hands dirty or weavin’ on the bench and the like.” Hands-on and filthy things; things that do not require a well-educated mind, things that need not be spent on by a Lady’s time - especially when she has so many willing women under her employ. She hasn’t seen the Lady tooling leather, but she can be sure of her hands. Especially now. Imogen still feels the cool absence of her press at the base of her spine, thinks how the décor of the room would be perfect if only the armchair had a hand-knitted blanket draped over its tall back to warm her own. “And what else would you have me do? Read books and write letters? I would be transcribing stories already written, and I am not as efficient as a printing press.” “No, not at all. It’s jus’ peculiar- that’s all. I’m used’ta hearin’ about how fine folk spend their time at parties and makin’ appearances and keepin’ their hands clean-” a drip of soup escapes from Imogen's mouth between all of her babbling, evidencing her own class, as she wipes it away with the back of her gloved hand before it can make its way to stain the frilled collar of the Lord’s shirt- The Lady watches her movements. “You’re rather peculiar yourself.” The Lady’s eyes hold hers challengingly; the air left expecting and pregnant, a smirk tugging at the wide corners of her mouth. Imogen clears her throat, her last spoon of soup now wishing to detour into her lungs when her motor functions are thrown into question. She feels a cold sweat at her brow, at that place where the Lady’s hand had held occupancy at the base of her spine, the salt-water that will evaporate into damning steam from the fire. “Your dress. Your occupation.” The Lady continues after she is satisfied with the still-born she birthed to the air. “You must hear as much of the same - yet tell me - does it feel peculiar to you to do so?” It’s arguably evasive, but a conversation none the less. “No, m’lady. It feels right.” “Well then, we must trust our desires on these things, must we not? After all, I don’t see them causing any harm.” Imogen shifts in her seat - squirms - if she’s honest, her fingertips digging into the upholstery of the arms of the chair.

I refer back to this conversation a lot caus you know, theming:

“It does make me chuckle a lot, I assume you’re fond'a raw meats?” “I suppose you would think so, wouldn’t you?” “Are y’not?” The Lady takes pause, her look introspective. “Have you ever eaten horse?” “w-what? Of course not – do people actually do that?” “Mmhmm, across the waters – in all directions. It is certainly a common custom. What makes horse any different from beef?” “I could never – we share a bond, they let us- they give us-” Imogen's tongue is too thick and heavy again, blubbering with words that do not come easily to it as they do her head. She allows herself a deep breath, collects what little face she has, remembers the presence she is in (a Lady regardless of murder or witchcraft) “-in all honesty I rarely eat any meat, the more time ya spend with animals the more guilty ya feel about doing so.” “How peculiar…maybe you need to spend more time around carnivores.” The Lady laughs at her own joke this time, hand patting at the side of Ceviche’s neck, the horse unaware of what words have been said. Imogen is thankful, in this instance, though she will admit she has tried more than once to see if her mind reading extended to her four-legged friends. “But they’ve got no choice, that’s how they were made.” She mimics the Lady’s movements, lovingly patting Foie Gras at the same spot on her neck. “Made…yes…You have incisors don’t you? Canines?” “I do, but I don’t have a mouth full of ‘em. Most of our teeth are as flat as these fellas over here…” she ruffles the mare’s mane “-though I won’t deny that gettin’ bitten still hurts something fierce.” “Makes you wonder what sort of damage you could do if you so chose to, after all, your eyes are not on the sides of your head.”

Which is fun to contrast to some horse related conversation from the latest chapter:

“Here- look at this…” Ms Laudna retrieves one of the pebbles from her side; a larger and more flat one in comparison to the rest of the bunch. She sits back; resting on the palm of one of her hands, the other holding the stone aloft for Imogen to inspect, expectant and notably casual - as she had been at the base of the statue in her garden. Imogen steps to meet her, taking the stone into her own hands and bringing it to eye-level. At first it looks as though its surface is imprinted with the weave of a wicker basket, but as Imogen tilts the rock in the sunlight she sees that these impressions are actually in relief, swelling outwards, dividing and complex Like roots like veins Like the gnarled scars that cover her hands from fingertip to mid-palm (and climbing-) She wants to touch the surface with her bare fingers, wonders if she can excuse herself for a trip down to the ocean once again. Imogen is sure that the Lady has not seen her hands, and yet the timing, the curation Perhaps she is thinking too much from her own perspective. It is not the view she has had to grow accustomed to. “Oh, it has a pattern an’ a texture.” “Isn’t it beautiful? I admit I had to get my notebook out to remember the name of this one.” She thinks it’s beautiful. “It has a name?” “Yes dear, it’s a fossil. A Pentacrinites crinoid.” Imogen doesn’t call the Lady out on her incorrect addressing, allows the word to soothe a scar she carries that is much older than the fresh cut on her fingertip. “I’m not even gonna try t’say that.” “They’re often called sea lilies - but they’re actually related to starfish - not a plant.” “Is the sea filled with alotta animals that look like other things?” lilies, glace cherries, stars, jellies, monsters constructed of hornwort and cats’ eyes and seashell and fishbone teeth Ms Laudna giggles agreeingly “Until we grow gills or construct a ship that can be airtight when it dives, I suppose we have to use our imaginations – or look at what washes up on the shores.” Imogen can easily recall that gurgle, the leathery petrified cadaver that followed. “Like a horse corpse?” “Is this one of the lake’s stories?” “Well, there are seahorses-” “Excuse me?!” A saddled horse with dorsal fins instead of a mane, opalescent scales, a tail like a mermaid- “About as literal as you can picture them compared to everything else you have seen-” a reality a little crushing, though swiftly soothed by Ms Laudna’s head throwing back with the weight behind her laugh, birds scattering in flight and cawing in the distance - yet Imogen doesn’t feel patronised; though maybe she has endeared herself to her and it is a fine line, and one of Ms Laudna’s hands cradles her stomach as if pained by the exertion, her other resting on Imogen's forearm, gentle, intimate dear dear

5: What part was hardest to write?

Hmm. I mean like I could say a good 30% of it caus I think writing for me is like, either getting possessed and writing a shit tonne and it doesn’t feel too rough (65% of it), but then the other 30 is pulling teeth and just writing a couple hundred words here and there, or it’s me staring at a blank page and nothing happening (and then 5% for my pathetic attempt at editing). I think the times when I most stop and go like, uh, how does writing work? And maybe pick up a book I like to see how they do it and then get frustrated caus I realise I absolutely can’t do it like them is like, with passing of time or scene transitions; wondering how much I can get away with skipping, or how much is too much description of every movement made, so I guess that all comes under pacing? I’m tryna think if there was a specific part of this fic that I remember being most frustrated at, I think around chapter 4 and 5 I was worrying about like, interest and how much lolling around I can do and is this interesting etc and just finding it hard to write in general, and I took a little break before writing chapters 6 and 7 where they go to the sea, but I think although those were hard to get into they’ve got me feeling better about future pacing choices and that.

And I struggle with writing horse stuff caus I know nothing about it so that’s fun when your main character is a stablehand lol

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

I think compared to other AUs I’ve mostly kept in my head, this one has stayed pretty much the same since the beginning, and I started writing it pretty much the same day I had the idea. There’s been a few details here and there that have changed but I can’t share those caus it’s about the red stringed stuff 😅

#imodna #imogen temult #laudna #critical role #browz writes #regency-ish au #hey freshy does my formatting make your eyeball twitch

11 notes · View notes