#but my home coast is very dear to me and frankly i do not think cold beaches get enough attention

[shorlinesorrows]

I understand why people love warmer water beaches, they're gorgeous. Beautiful.

But as a person who was raised near a northern pacific coast, can confirm that nothing will ever compare to the feeling of walking in the surf of an ocean with water so cold it numbs your skin and burns your bones, the wind snatching at your clothes with icy fingers, silver overcast sky as far as the eye can see

something about sand that's smooth and chilly on your feet, and half-hidden shards of seashell, and an ocean that you know could drag you under at will

something about cliffs and rocks emerging from the mist at night, and the roar of waves, and the occasional seal that pops up between swells, the sea foam and shiny black mussels clinging to tide-beaten rocks

Idk there's something very special about beaches that are cold for a majority of the year and tbh I'd take one of those any day.

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 5 (Mastermind)—MOTA Fic

A/N: No one asked for Bucky's opinion on things, but here we are anyways haha. That being said, I hope you enjoy the developing (kind of) friendship that they have going on! As always, let me know what you think!

Surprise inspections left the men more annoyed and frazzled than they had already been previously.  Still, Ruth was surprised with the men and the way that they put up with Huglin’s inspection.  Huglin had certainly been expecting more men to receive citations rather than just one very late crew, but Ruth supposed that was because he was looking to be a hardass.  

In truth, Ruth considered these men to be very lucky, all things considered.  They had an Air Executive who genuinely wanted them to succeed and also rewarded their obedience and successes as it came.  If Huglin had been their Air Executive, they would have never left the ground.  

Be that as it may, Huglin was good at his actual job, which was being a Commanding Officer and Colonel on Thorpe Abbotts.  In the following days, Ruth found herself trying and failing yet again to write a letter to her family members.  

Quite frankly, she didn’t feel she had much to say in the way of the truth and she didn’t particularly love writing lies to her family members to reassure them.  Writing to Jonah and John was easy—they alone knew of her deployment with the JAG-Corp, but that was because she felt it necessary where she could end up in some sort of court case that they could hear of.  

My dear brother Jonah, 

I hope this letter reaches you in good health. I know things haven’t been great for you as of late and you haven’t received much correspondence from the others.  I’ve heard that John is doing well in the Navy and isn’t far from the coast of England. 

Stay dry and try to keep yourself cool out there.  I want you to take care of yourself and your men.  You and I, we’re a little too self-sacrificial at times.  So I’m asking you not to be.  Take care of yourself.  You’re my brother and I pray every day that you’re kept safe.  

As for myself, I asked for a transfer and have found it to be—well, interesting.  It’s certainly not where I used to be and to be quite honest, I had more friends there than I have here.  I think that’s part of the reason why I didn’t want to be there anymore.  War isn’t a time for friends, as you well know.  And if I’m going to do my part, then I need to stay focused. That being said, I also broke things off in an effort to keep my head up.  I’m sure you’re probably shaking your head at that, considering in your last letter you referred to me as ‘Old Maid Ruthie’ (which I found very rude, for the record).  But I felt like I had to do it. 

I miss you most days.  I’m on my own here, completely and totally.  It’s a strange thing, coming from home and being so surrounded by family at all times and then to be totally and completely alone.  I’m sure you feel the same.  So know that I’m with you, wherever you are.  And may the angels guide you safely back home.  

All my love, 

Ruthie 

For a long moment, all Ruth could do was stare at the letter that she had penned out.  Before Pearl Harbor, all Ruth could possibly think about was getting out of her parent’s home and getting some space and quiet from her family.  With seven kids, all of whom had larger than life personalities and ideas, it was hard to feel like an actual human being at times.  Especially since she was always helping with the younger kids and constantly on display from her parents, who just wanted her to settle down, of all things. 

But now?  Now Ruth wasn’t so certain she should have been so hasty to want to leave.  It was crushingly and damningly lonely, being here on another continent all by herself.  Granted, she had enjoyed the freedom that it had provided her.  But never staying in one place long enough to make meaningful connections was hard . 

Contrary to popular belief, Ruth actually did like people.  If she didn’t, she never would have become a lawyer in the first place. 

People were so complicated and complex though.  It was maddening, if you thought about it long enough.  No one ever stuck by their moral compass and people tended to change just when you thought you could depend on them.  It was the sole reason why she was needed . And Ruth liked to feel needed.  Like to feel as though people were depending on her, like to feel as though she was contributing something valuable to the world. 

“You know, you’re always writing something, but I can’t tell if you’re happy about it or miffed,” Helen said in a sing-song tone, catching Ruth’s attention.  

“An in-between?” Ruth glanced from her spot on her bed over at Helen, who was boredly flipping through an old magazine.  “Writing to my family is a…complicated matter.” 

“Ain’t that the truth!” Helen agreed, shaking her head.  “Unless you’re Tatty, of course.” 

Tatty gave a snort from her own bunk, laser-focused on adjusting the nail polish on one of her nails that had chipped.  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” 

“It’s not!” Helen reassured.  “You just like writing your family.” 

“Siblings?” Ruth questioned. 

Tatty’s look of concentration shifted as her tongue poked out of her mouth in annoyance.  The nail brush had just painted over the skin on the edges of her nail.  “All girls for my dad, I’m afraid.  We all write to each other every week.” 

“That’s sweet,” Ruth said.  “I think I’d die if I had all sisters.  What about you, Helen?” 

“A brother, but we’re not very close,” Helen gave a shrug.  “How many siblings do you have, Ruthie?” 

“Six.  Three sisters, three brothers.  I prefer my brothers since they’re not as concerned about my life-decisions as my sisters are,” Ruth nearly snorted.  

“Well that’s sweet that they care!” Helen insisted.  

“Right,” Ruth replied in a light sarcastic tone.  “It’s sweet when you’re consistently bothered about marrying before your womb dries up and dies of old age.” 

“You can’t be that much older than us,” Tatty gave a giant roll of her eyes, blowing to speed up the drying process of her nails. 

“25.” 

Helen snorted.  “That’s not old at all!  Ugh, besides,” she continued, a grin slipping onto her face. “It’s kinda fun being over here and getting to know so many men!” 

“Sure, getting to know them is one thing,” Tatty shook her head. 

“But falling in love sounds like a damn fool’s errand,” Ruth agreed.  

“You two are such cynics,” Helen declared. 

“I prefer the term realistic,” Ruth corrected, nudging Helen with her foot.  “But if you find a nice man, I’ll certainly attempt to live vicariously through you.” 

“Noted.” 

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

Ruth was half-convinced she was never going to actually see the Hundredth fly an actual mission—mostly due to the fact that the month of June consisted of them training every day rather than actually going out.  She supposed it was a necessary feat, given the fact that they likely needed to memorize the route home and ensure that they knew how Huglin preferred missions to be run.  Still, Ruth wasn’t bored by any means.  Knowing her law-background, Huglin was also using her as a legal consultant on missions, specifically in regards to war crimes and what was considered allowable.  

The past three days though?  Ruth had been busy in consultations over the upcoming bombing of Bremen. It wasn’t unheard of for her to consult back in Aldbourne for some of the missions beyond the paratroopers.  

But she had never been so actively involved in helping make plans for something such as this.  It required a careful study of the landscape, consulting with the Group Navigator and pulling in various intelligence officers to consult as they discussed the legality of the target that they were hitting. 

Bremen was a long-shot and they all knew it.  It was going to be incredibly difficult to get that far inland into Germany without heavy casualties and heavy resistance on the side of the Germans.  Ruth wasn’t sure it was a good idea to begin with—maybe if the Allied Forces had more land that they were occupying, she could see that it was a good idea.  But as of right now, it seemed like a suicide run if she had ever heard of one. 

She almost found it a little cruel, the way that they prepared a special breakfast for the men.  She knew it was likely going to be the last meal for several of the men.  But that didn’t stop her from feeling like it was a cruel thing to do, given the fact that they’d be up in the air in a few hours and food would be the last thing on their minds then.  

Once, back when she was in school, Ruth had attended and been able to sit in on a particular case for an inmate on Death Row.  He had claimed that he was innocent and the lawyer she was shadowing had met with him no less than five times before his day had arrived.  Ruth had talked kindly with the man for a moment—and he had mentioned that the food on Death Row was always something good.  

It seemed a strange thing then.  Now it just seemed cruel and made too much sense to her. 

Somehow, and she wasn’t quite sure how, except for maybe her current state of mental exhaustion clearly being the prevalent force in her mind, Ruth had been talked into watching Meatball for the day.  

As soon as the men had taken off, Ruth had decided to go on a run.  Running had always been a safe-space for her, something that helped her focus and clear her head, and it especially helped with anxious feelings.  And considering that the men had decided against her advice to not bomb Bremen—using her literally as a consult—Ruth was anxious about the state of affairs that this would leave everyone in. 

There was also the fact that Colonel Huglin was going up with his men.  She couldn’t say that she found him to be particularly likable, but the fact that he was flying with the men said a lot about him.  

Meatball barked as he ran alongside her and a warm summer breeze ripped through the treeline as Ruth turned the corner.  Her lungs burned and her legs pumped, muscles beginning to stretch in a way that they hadn’t in a long time.  She took in everything as she ran—the trees, the barracks, the runway, the sun beginning to rise—and then she let everything else out that was trapped inside. 

I’m just a woman who no one listens to—mother was right, a female lawyer won’t be respected unless I make them respect me. 

Winters and his stupidly kind way of telling her that she was a wall of stone—well damn him, she had painstakingly and carefully made the wall of stone herself and she’d be damned before she let anyone take it down without her permission.  Even a man as kind and noble as he was—it was not enough to be those things.  She wasn’t sure anyone would be enough for that. 

Everything she did was intentional and she was a credit to her profession.  If she wanted something, then she’d make it happen.  

The thoughts ate away at her like some sort of weed growing in her chest.  Before she could so much as scowl at her own brain, her gaze had caught onto someone pacing back and forth between the barracks.  Ruth couldn’t help the fact that she stopped short—gaze scrutinizing the situation ahead of her. 

Air Executive Bucky Egan was going back and forth, mumbling something under his breath and shaking his head.  She wondered how long he had been like that and if it had been the entire time that the men had been gone.  She didn’t get a chance to wonder long.  Meatball ran straight up to Bucky Egan and began nuzzling at his hand, nearly scaring the man half out of his wits at the sudden sight of Ruth and Meatball. 

Oh Ruth was sorely going to regret this, she just knew it.  “Are you just pacing back and forth?” Ruth blurted, narrowing her gaze. 

He just let out a tired sigh.  “Can we not do this right now, Sharpe?” 

She stared at him for a long moment before just shaking her head at him.  “No.” 

“No?” Bucky choked out in surprise. 

“No,” Ruth repeated again.  She tilted her head at him.  “I’m probably going to hate myself for this—and this is not my way of trying to get close to you,” she emphasized the latter portion.  “But you should come running with me.” 

“Running?” Bucky crinkled his face in distaste.  “I’d rather—” 

“Drink yourself into a stupor?  That would be an infraction for you and seeing as how you already are on thin ice with Huglin, I don’t think you should risk that,” Ruth gave a sickly sweet smile at him.  “So stop spiraling about your men and focus on something else.” 

Bucky just stared at the ground for a long moment, hands firmly on his hips as he considered the ultimatum.  “Damnit, you really are just annoying as hell , you know that?” 

“So I’ve been told.” 

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

Bucky didn’t like the fact that it took actual effort to keep up with Lieutenant Ruth Sharpe.  She was damn fast and had barely spared him a glance since starting this little running spree of theirs.  Truth be told, he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the woman. 

She said she didn’t want to make friends with anyone, but then extended an olive branch when he was clearly stressed out.  She gave the men a warning about the surprise inspection and she was clearly on good enough terms with Benny DeMarco to be watching his beloved dog, Meatball.  But then she was constantly threatening everyone and making it really hard to find any sort of downtime enjoyable. 

When the two of them finally came to a stop, lightly breathing and standing on the runway as the sun was finally higher up in the sky, Bucky could barely form the words.  He was by no means out of shape, but Ruth was a workhorse when it came to running. 

“How—how do you do this for fun?” Bucky questioned. 

Ruth piqued a brow.  “Fun?  No, no, when I want to have fun, I go dancing or find myself a band to play with.  Running, I do that out of spite.” 

He blinked once, then twice. “What?” 

She shifted her weight, stretching her arms out.  “Back in school, there were a bunch of boys who kept on bragging about how fast they were and how no girls could beat their records.  I got tired of hearing them constantly talk about themselves so I tried out for track, made the team, and then beat the state record for the boys.” 

Bucky almost laughed except he was certain that she would have had half a mind to punch him.  “Spite is your motivation?” 

“When it comes to men, yes.” 

“You know what I think?” 

“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” Ruth replied dryly. 

“I think you need to get laid.  Like—badly,” Bucky just gestured at all of her, shaking his head.  “Because all of this,” he waved his hand at her.  “Cannot be good for your health.” 

“Interesting take,” Ruth didn’t blink. “Counter-offer?  I’ll get laid when you get sober.” 

“Ouch.  But that’s a fair point, I guess.  Now why the hell did you want me to go running?  It’s hot and—” 

Ruth just gestured back at the tower.  “Because your boys are due back within the hour.  By my calculations, you have just enough time to clean yourself up and be ready for them to show up.  You’re not drunk and that means you can actually attend to the needs of your men.  Consider it a gift to the Hundredth.” 

He could only blink as she took off running again—and he was left there standing with a slightly ajar jaw.  “Manipulative and rude and cares about the men…what a bunch of bullshit lawyerly—” 

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

Chapter 21 of Chained: To Wield The Blade We Have Forged

A/N: This chapter is stephcass focused enough that I think people might enjoy this as a standalone thing, so I'll be posting the chapter both on AO3 as usual, and right here in this post! This also connects to the reblog I wrote up the other night gushing about Batgirl (2000) #19 and the potential in a Cass vs Jason confrontation!

For this chapter only, NOT the whole fic: Rated T for Teen Ships are Stephanie Brown/Cassandra Cain and vaguely hinted at Jason Todd/Tim Drake There's gonna be a LOT of plot points that don't seem to go anywhere, cause they're parts of much bigger arcs, but there's some really sweet talk about deep stuff towards the end and the start is Steph handling a deescalation scenario Hope you enjoy ^w^ !

Dear War Diary,

You know, some days I don't even think Ivy should be in Arkham. Logging, pollution, hair spray tearing a hole in the ozone layer, pesticides - if I could feel plants' pain as they were broken apart, I'd want to feed people to ambulatory venus fly traps too. Heck, back in high school I was sure tempted to let her have at some of my more obnoxious classmates.

Unfortunately, today was not one of those days.

We knew something was weird this time around when the docs at Arkham called warning us that she woke up screaming and her powers went out of control. Usually when this sort of thing happens she goes towards a clear goal. Like, there'll be a construction site or a factory or something damaging the land and drawing her out.

Thing is though, the more we chased her, the clearer it became that she wasn't running towards anything.

She was fleeing, and seemingly had no clear place to bolt to. First she fled to the meat packing district. Then she ran down to the water, and like, we expected her to follow the coast? But she just swam right in! Left huge algal blooms in her wake too; like the lacy train of a queen's dress. She even left Gotham altogether for a hot minute only to turn back again for no reason. She was very obviously out of her mind frightened of something, but we had no idea what it was, and frankly, we still don't.

Tonight had real big 'predator running from the wildfire' energy, is what I'm saying.

It took several days, but eventually she gave up on running and bunkered down in one of the parks. The concrete storage shed she picked as her new home was so overgrown by the time we got to it that it was impossible to see a single square inch of the structure. The hardwood and thorn vines covering it had to have been at least a meter thick.

And that little backstory finally brings us to tonight's patrol.

I tapped my earpiece, "We getting anything on the seismic, O?"

"Nope. If she's digging she's doing it slow enough we're not gonna get any warning. Good news though, I finally got an answer back from Waller. Harley Quinn can be on the line within ten minutes notice."

"Awesome. Speedy, you good to cover me?"

"Yup! Got a whole quiver full of tranquilizers and frog crotch arrows ready for her."

I snort-laughed, "God, what a name!"

"I know right?! But yeah, you're good to go. I'll be aiming from the East, so gimmie a sign if you think you'll need me at a different angle."

"Got it. Alright O, give that ten minute notice and I'll start the approach."

Step one: Get the cops to back up the perimeter by at least ten feet all around. Frankly they were gonna be useless in a fight if it came to that, and the whole goal here was to get this done without bloodshed.

This part was pretty damn easy. I knew one of the cops there by name and she was more than happy to back her fellow officers out of the negotiation zone.

Step two: Establish a desire for peaceful communication.

I spoke through a megaphone into the general direction of the tree-bunker, "Doctor Isley? Would you be willing to come out and talk?"

The woods creaked and groaned, shifting minutely. My heart pounded in my chest, waiting, watching, every leaf bud an acid spitting behemoth in the making.

Nothing came out.

I called out to her again, "Okay. Doctor Isley, you seem really upset, and we don't understand why, but you haven't hurt anyone yet so we're not going to hurt you."

I glanced around surreptitiously at the cops. Lucky for me they all seem to be on their best behavior tonight. No one was grumbling about wanting to hurt her loud enough for me to hear, and I just had to trust that meant the grass couldn't hear them either.

"If you don't want to talk to me, that's okay. We want to get you some help, so we're going to try and get Harley on the phone so you can talk to her."

Against my ear, the phone crackled to life.

Time for step three: Get negotiation partner on board.

"Which bat-brat do I have the displeasure of speakin to today!?"

"It's Batgirl; we need your help getting through to Ivy."

"HAH! Well fat fuckin chance, asshole! I ain't talkin her inta anythin she don't wanna do!"

"And we're not asking you to! She hasn't even hurt anybody, and she's not making any threats, but she is clearly terrified. We think there's something or someone after her, and it's not us."

I gave her a moment to think it over. She's got to know we wouldn't let Ivy die, but there's always the chance we're just lying.

"Fine. Alright, what's the plan here?"

"Thank you! I'm gonna hold the speaker up to the megaphone, and you let her know you want to talk, then I'll slowly approach and once in speaking range I'll take the megaphone off of the phone to give the two of you some privacy."

"An you'll still be listinen the whole damn time of course."

"Yeah, sorry about that, but at least the cops won't be."

Harley sighs, "Turn the lights down in the house and start the music then. Lets get this show rollin an' over with."

Step four: Negotiate and deescalate.

Through the phone megaphone combo she said, "Hey Sweetpea, mind lettin me hear yer pretty voice again?"

The protective wall started growing again, getting thicker. I chance a few slow steps forwards anyway, since nothing offensive starts growing either. Or at least I hoped there wasn't something offensive in there.

"I've missed ya. Not the same kickin ass with these bozos in here, ya'know?"

As I got closer, the smell of ozone got stronger, breathing started to feel weird, and every drop of sweat evaporated off of me, leaving me parched. Her hypergrowth vegetation was stripping the carbon dioxide and water out of the air so fast that the atmosphere around it was going haywire.

Just as I thought she was waiting for me to get close enough for her tree's roots to just use me as a nutrient bag, an opening formed over the doorway to the storage unit, and she shakily poked her head out, calling for Harleen.

She was messed up. She clearly hadn't been able to take care of herself and

I'm not writing the next part down verbatim. Just seems too... invasive. They said a lot of sweet an

I don't feel great about this, but just in case I need it, I am going to record what I remember of how Harley talked her down.

Harley said, "Pumpkin, I'm so sorr

Okay. Third time's the charm?

This was not a criminal wrecking havok for profit. This was not a terrorist making demands. This was someone having a breakdown due to forces outside her control and her girlfriend comforting her as best she could. I shouldn't even have been hearing it, really, so yeah I think I'd feel too skeezy to keep dinner down if I wrote it all out 'just in case'.

Informationally speaking, hopefully the only part of their conversation I'll ever need to know again is that Ivy said "The green is dying" and "She's made the world barren; the flowers will never bloom again" and basically made it really clear that the damage was already done and no one was after her.

If you're reading this Future Me and you desperately need to know exactly what happened, sorry not sorry, get a time machine or something.

Anyways, after it became clear that there was nothing we could do for her other than get her back to mental help, I gave Speedy the signal to take the shot. The tranqs hit her before she realized anything was up, and there were only a few seconds of scuffle, then she was down for the count.

I picked up the phone again to cut the line and Harley said, "So that's it, huh? I talk her into openin' the treeline, you drug her up, and that's curtains?"

"There clearly wasn't anything else we could do for-"

"Fuck off you insufferable, controlling, shitty, furry knock off cops! I shoulda told her ta mulch ya!"

There were the muffled sounds of the phone being taken out of her hand, and then a voice I didn't recognize, "Well, I hope that clown to plant heart to heart was worth the favor."

"Zero injuries, zero deaths, zero horrifying poison scares: I'd say it was."

She, whoever she was (I assume it was Waller) chuckled, "Well you aren't the one picking up the tab. Tell Oracle it was a pleasure doing business again."

The line went dead.

"You get that O?"

"Loud and clear. And hey, don't let what Quinn said get to you. You did great."

"Thanks," I kinda didn't feel it, but the sentiment was nice.

The rest of patrol was a long and boring ride on the top of a police van, making sure that no one ambushed her on her way back to Arkham, and then a short conversation about what they're going to do to keep her there this time.

They've had a couple different ways to cut her off from whatever The Green is for a while now. Every method has nasty side effects, and half her breakout attempts were in direct opposition to using them. At this point their policy is to just help her manage being connected. Considering what I saw that connection putting her through tonight? The docs rubber stamped cutting her off from The Green again, at least temporarily, and I'm pretty okay that.

So yeah. We won. Yippee. And all it took was arm twisting a woman held prisoner by a shadowy government agency in order to trick the love of her life into making herself vulnerable to us...

God this job sucks sometimes.

And the suck was not over yet, not by a long shot! And the suck was not only reserved for me either. Uh, okay obviously since Harley and Ivy, but also!

Oracle called to tell me this: "I need to give you a heads up before you return to base, and Speedy needs some time to handle a private phone call so I'm telling you this now. Black Bat got into a fight that upset her pretty bad. She's been on the training sims and dummies for over three hours, and I'm kinda worried she's not gonna sleep unless someone helps her untangle her head."

"I thought everything went smooth on her end, what the heck happened?"

"Easier if I just show you," Oracle said and fed a video taken by one of the Bat-House's internal cameras into my HUD.

It showed Ca (gah trying not to write anyone's names is a mess) Black Bat in civilian clothes, standing in a doorway. She's staring at the Red Hood from across the room with an expression of frustrated determination.

He ignores her for a while, continuing to read, curled up on the couch in a posture so terrible I have to wonder if he's trying to give himself back problems.

She just... kept staring. And staring.

Finally he asked, sounding very snarky and annoyed, "Can I help you?"

"Why did you pull the trigger again? You were better. You did better for so long. Why?"

"I don't owe you that shit," He narrowed his eyes at her, "And you don't get to decide I was better just cause you liked it more when I was docile."

She marches over to him, "I know how it hurts. I see it hurt you! I want to help. I want to know why."

"No," He said, standing up to loom over her, as though she couldn't kick his ass five ways from Sunday with a hand tied behind her back, "You want me to get on my knees and sob and beg for forgiveness. As though any of you shitheads ever even deserved my forgiveness!"

"No! I want to see you get better! I wanted another little brother!"

"Well congratu-fucking-lations, you got one! Don't worry, Dickie hates it just as much. I'm sure he can give you some pointers on how to go fuck yourself about it."

My jaw started hurting from how tight I had my teeth clenched as I watched her face twist in open rage-hurt-sorrow, "Why won't you stop burning our house down!? You're in it!"

"I. Don't. Owe. You. That."

She glared up at him defiantly, "You owe someone."

"No. I don't."

"Sheezus!" Black Canary said as she entered the room, "I leave you alone for five minutes and you're already picking a fight with her? Seriously?"

Black Bat's anger simmered below the boiling point again, "Not a fight."

"That sure looked like-"

"Not a fight." She declared bitterly, storming out of the room.

BC raised an eyebrow at Hood.

He smiled all teeth and irritation, "Not a fight!"

She rolled her eyes and took her post back up as the video ended.

I sighed, "Well. That'd do it. Thanks for the warning, I'll see if I can talk to her, take her mind off it."

"Appreciated. I tried but... I dunno. You'll probably have more luck."

"We'll see I guess! So, am I good to check in with Speedy, or is she still on her phone call?"

"You're good."

When I grappled up to the roof she was on, Speedy looked pretty damn unhappy. So, like, clearly tonight was sucking complete ass for everyone. Mercury in retrograde or some shit, idk.

"You got news I take it?" I asked.

"Mhm, great news! By which I mean totally shit news. Apparently the lab I get my bloodwork done at broke, as in everything is giving false negatives. So yeah, all my bloodwork for the past who knows how long might have been wrong!"

"Oh shit. You want us to test you in the Batcave? Guarantee the lab down there could handle whatever you need!"

"I appreciate the offer, but I'll need to fast for twelve hours beforehand no matter what, so it wouldn't really be any quicker. Also my civilian GP would be pretty leery of a Bat-Diagnostic, especially since they already got me an appointment with the closest available people."

O cut in over comms, "That is suspiciously fast..."

Speedy shrugged, "I've got a feeling Green Arrow might have pushed me up the list somehow. He might not be (secret identity stuff I can't write down here :P ) anymore, but he's still got some pull."

"Hmm, well, both of you get back to base and we can figure out the logistics once you're here."

"Roger."

"Aye Aye Captain."

Once she cut off I offered, "Grapple line tag on the way there to take your mind off it?"

"You know what? I could use something to stretch my legs out after all that sniper crouching. Fuck it, let's do this."

Swingy swingy swingy over the buildings, across the bridge, to grandmother's imposing, minefield-surrounded cave we went!

We got into the cave, changed out of our gear, and sure enough, Black Bat was still in the training section, running herself ragged. Speedy went up to get some sleep since she couldn't eat dinner now anyways (do NOT envy that). So I went straight into an attempt to pry Black Bat off the training mats.

"Heads up!" I called out and tossed a bottle of water at her head.

She caught it without even looking, swapping to kicks and using her other hand to demolish her sandbag opponents, "Been drinking enough just fine."

"Sure. What'll it take to convince you to take a break and drink it with me anyways?"

She paused, leg still raised to kick, perfectly poised like gravity wasn't even a factor. It always makes my legs hurt looking her like that. Makes the rest of me swoon too.

"Would um..." She frowned, like she expected me to think less of her for making the request, "You bring dinner down here? For us both?"

I gave her a smile, "Yeah, of course. Mind saying how come?"

"Because Hood's up there and I want to fight him more. If I fight him, have to look at him. Have to watch him feeling and thinking and..." She finally put her leg down, and fidgeted with the cap of her water, "And I just don't want to."

"Didn't realize you hated him that bad."

"Not sure I do? Messy."

"Yeah, messy for me too."

Translation: I still don't know how to feel about him taking grisly revenge against Black Mask 'in my honor'. Still also super don't know how to feel about his welcome home gifts of a gun and an offer to come murder criminals with him.

Then I add, "But I'll have you know I'm a first class mess messer with-er! So if you want to talk about it, I'd be happy to."

She very briefly smiled, then her face feel again and somber moment passed before she said quietly, "Yeah, okay. Bring food down and... we can talk."

"On it."

"Um, wait!"

"Huh?"

She caught my arm and reeled me in for a kiss on the cheek, "There."

I laughed and gave her a proper kiss, "There! Love you."

Diary, have I ever told you about how she looks when she blushes? Because I seriously think I'll need to pull out the old poetry textbooks in order to do it justice.

Upstairs took me passed the dining room, where Red Hood and Red Robin were talking.

"The fuck is that?" Hood asked, leaning over his shoulder.

"Blueprints. I'm having a section of my house renovated while I'm stuck here."

"Wwwwhy?"

"I am swiftly being driven mad by boredom and saw a really neat indoor garden set-up on pinterest."

"An indoor garden? In Gotham? Do you fuckin want to get strangled to death in your sleep by vines?"

RR does the little 'tch' thing he picked up from Robin, "Whatever, it'll be fine, these are tiny little arboreals and I'll have reinforced airlocks leading in and out."

"That does fucking nothing for attacks in your sleep."

"Which is why I'll have the whole lockdown system automated. I was already going to do automation for the plant care stuff anyways, cause lets be honest here, there was no way I was ever going to keep them alive on my own."

"...The speed and ease with which you oscillate between self depreciating paranoia and megalomaniacal hubris is fascinating."

And even as pissed off as I am with both of them, that still almost made me friggin lose it laughing, RR seemed so offended too, it was great!

And speaking of pissed off? Yeah, seeing RR acting so chummy with Hood was kinda making my blood boil! Like, maybe he didn't even know they fought. But he's supposed to be her friend too, and it's still sticking in my craw, and I'm busy with the whole damn city needing patroled, and so bottom line: I didn't talk to him tonight, and I'm probably not gonna talk to him tomorrow night either!!

Agent A had several plates set to the side already when I got into the kitchen. I think he assumed at least a few of us were gonna go off in our separate corners after the argument. Made it nice and easy to snag two and bring it down.

She had clearly been pacing, waiting for me, back down in the cave.

We sat together and she held my hand while we ate - pretty awkward, but super worth it. We stayed quiet, me cause I wanted to give her the space to start talking, and her probably because she wasn't sure where to start.

Once all the peas and mash were gone and she was pushing her drumstick around the plate she asked, "Ready?"

"Go for it. All ears."

"It's a guilt thing I think? Least a little?"

"Kinda always figured you were uh, how to put it, I guess invested in him, cause of that sort of parallel between you two?"

She nodded, "Not all of it's that, though. Different guilt," She gives me a rueful smile, "I'm layered in it, huh?"

"Like a lasagna of angst," I told her solemnly.

She huffed a quiet laugh, fidgeting with my hand, "Am I um. A tasty lasagna?"

"Oh yeah, you're delicious," I said with a cheesy wink.

"Terrible," She laughed a bit more, running her thumb over the back of my hand, and the nervous sad crept right back in, "You know about um... One day, I rescued a man? Murderer. From the gas chamber?"

"Yeah. Not well, you've never said much, but I've read a bit about it. Was kind of a big news thing."

"On the way out I met the mother of his victim. She demanded justice. She demanded his death. I didn't know how to- to reconcile her grief. Still don't. But back then... I put him back in the gas chamber. I look at Hood. Wonder if he's the murderer or the mother or the executioner. Wonder what the mother was. Wonder what I was. Wonder if the distinction matters at all."

"Hood's trying to cut all the bad people out, trying to bleed the world better. You're trying to keep it all alive, trying to keep everyone growing. Maybe the other distinctions don't matter, but I think this one has to."

She squeezed my hand tight and kissed every one of my knuckles delicately, "I hope so. Trying to believe so."

"I kinda think you already do. You may be an angst lasagna, but you don't do what you do just out of guilt, yeah?"

"Guess so... I wanted so bad to find out that they'd been replaced by aliens or something. Find out that wasn't him. Not now and um. Not on TV all those months ago. At the very least I was hoping to find regret."

"I really wish I had something better to say than, you know, his determination to be an asshole isn't something we can fix. Just gotta keep growing our garden and hope he decides to join us for real sometime."

"Yeah..." Another round of knuckle kisses, "Yeah, you're right," She wrinkles her nose, "Sucks you're right."

"Yup."

She pressed her forehead against our intertwined hands for a while.

Then she asked, "Tell me about one of your shows?"

"Sure."

So I chattered about some light stuff she nodded along to until we were both ready for bed. It was honestly really nice, and I think I needed it too, a lot more than I realized.

So yeah, here's hoping tomorrow is less of a complete shit show from start to finish.

- Batgirl IV

[astaroth1357]

More undateables with a demigod hades mc???

By request, have yourself a part two!! 

Demigod MC Series: Hades Pt. 2 (Un)Dateables Edition!

I will ask that y’all please don't ask for continuations of other gods unless I say it’s okay to do again. This series already fills my inbox something fierce and this is a one-off that I allowed for during the request window.  If I have to make ideas for new gods while continuing a bunch of old MCs, it'll burn me out fast...

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena, Hades Pt. 2

Diavolo

Oh, he has no problem at all hosting a child of the Underworld, hell he even throws them a welcome banquet when he finds out! Hades is a dear friend - and practically a parental figure to him growing up - so he's more than happy to take in one of his children for a year.

Diavolo is actually one of the few people that the MC can talk to about their home with any kind of fondness. Usually when they bring up things like the comforting wailing of the River Coctyus, the brothers will give them weird looks... but Diavolo knows where they're coming from!

He spent numerous summers in the Underworld growing up doing things like pestering Charon on the River Styx or playing games with Cerberus (the other one) in the Asphodel Meadows... His beach house is actually modeled after his childhood summer home in the Isles of Paradise! Really, it can be a lovely place if the gloom doesn't bother you!

So in the spirit of his fond memories, Diavolo really tried to make their time in the Devildom a fun one!... in his maybe trying a little too hard way…  

Poor MC found themselves offered pretty much everything under the moon… Tickets or exclusive passes to different cultural events/festivals, invitations to gala events, and tours of nearly every inch of Hell by the Prince himself - it was… it was a lot for the poor introverted thing…

It didn’t help that Diavolo would have a hard time gauging if they were having any fun due to their naturally melancholic nature, which only pushed him to try harder… He means well, he does. He’s just not the most in touch with what would make an anti-social doom child happy...

It took Barbatos and Lucifer stepping in for the mortal to actually start getting some much needed space and that improved their experience significantly. Sometimes less is more, Dia… Less is more. But they appreciate his efforts anyway.

Barbatos 

Also has a pretty amicable relationship with the Ruler of the Underworld, though his is much more professional compared to Diavolo’s. He actually has a good deal of appreciation for the man for taking good care of the Prince during his visits, so he sees this as an opportunity to return the favor.

Like Diavolo, he’s rather focused on making sure the MC is having a good stay in the Devildom, but he’s much more subtle about it. He’ll come by the House often to check up on them and make sure everything is to their liking... 

Even the brothers notice that he treats them like anothering visiting Lord/Lady in that way, which he would argue they very much are and should be respected as one. It’s the least the Devildom can offer their father at this point.

His visits may also be an excuse for keeping an eye on the brothers to make sure they don’t do anything to inconvenience their “young guest…” To be honest, the entire House is a little paranoid about that… Nobody wants to know the punishment for hurting MC if Barbs is the one dishing it out...

Apart from watching out for them, Barbatos tries to encourage the MC to accept the Young Lord’s gifts (while also actively advising Diavolo to go easier on them at the same time). It would be so disheartening to him if his Prince feels like he hasn’t offered them the best experience that he could… He’s sure they understand.

Any time that he invites the MC to tea, they usually end up talking about their father in some way. Barbs knows a surprising amount about the god… He’s been around about as long as Chronos - preceding the birth of Aether and Chaos themselves - so he has some stories to tell.

The MC did once ask him why he doesn’t just run everything if he’s really been around for so long... his answer was: “Kings and their kingdoms will rise and fall… Worlds upon worlds are born, then cease to be. But time is what brings about all changes… So, I think I’m perfectly content with the power I possess. Wouldn’t you be?” 

Annnd they never asked Barbs another question like that again… and people think death is scary… 

Simeon 

He was honestly a little worried for their new companion for quite a while… It’s not like there’s never any sadness in the Celestial Realm or anything, but they seem to have something else entirely…

He’s heard stories about the Underworld. He’s never been himself, that’s usually a job for the Seraphim due to the… dreary nature of the place - but he’s heard it would make the Devildom look downright festive…

If he were being honest, he had half expected the MC to be obsessed with skeletons, ghosts, and other elements of darkness but that wasn’t the case. They certainly knew a lot about those things, but they appeared to have a healthy interest in the afterlife in general, so they asked him a lot of questions about the Celestial Realm, angels, and how the souls of the blessed are treated up there… It was surprising to say the least.

Of course he did the same and, frankly, Simeon found it incredibly wasteful that so many Greek followers find themselves just wasting away in a field of nothing for so long… but that’s neither here nor there.

He was also surprised by how gentle of an influence the MC ended up being on Luke as well. He had always suspected that the little angel just needed a bridge between him and Devildom to start finding appreciation for it, and the MC fit that bill perfectly - nothing he was used to, but still approachable enough to make everything less frightening. He thanks them a great deal for that… but...

It’s just that… Well they’re just so… depressing sometimes…! He doesn’t want to blame them because it hardly seems like their fault! They’re a very kind person, it’s just an atmosphere around them… It brings him to tears if he isn’t careful…

He’s invited the MC to Purgatory Hall on multiple occasions to chat and try to make them smile… When they do, the gloom is dispelled - even just a little - and they’re a truly beautiful creature regardless. It’s just so unfortunate that their life brings so much sadness...

Even so, he actually likes the MC enough to consider basing a character on them if he ever wrote another book. Something about a gloomy but sweet protagonist at home in a world of darkness sounds appealing… doesn’t it?

Luke

He didn’t know how to feel about the MC when they met. At first, he actually thought they were just as unhappy as he was to be there due to how depressed they looked but when they told him that wasn't true, he was really confused...

The Devildom is a dark, brutish, and dangerous place. Why would anyone feel at home down here??

But… well… He would spend time with them at RAD between breaks (partially to help scare off their many, many demonic suitors) and it might be weird to say, but they really made the Devildom look beautiful… literally.

The world just looks better when they’re around! It’s really hard to describe because it’s not something you notice much until they leave, but when the MC is around everything looks more vibrant and inviting! The grass gets greener, flowers grow bigger, and butterflies/birds hover around wherever they are like they have their own gravity - the realm loves them!

It started getting hard for Luke to hang onto his disdain for the place when they made it look so appealing… And then they started talking to him about the Underworld and the creatures they’d befriended there… creatures a lot worse than any demons he’d seen there...

Like. If the MC can be good friends with a bunch of rude walking corpses, then he could probably make friends with a demon right? There’s nice ones… kind of… 

Beel. He can make friends with Beel.

Like Simeon, he does feel bad that they seem so sad all the time… but unlike the older angel, he’s a bit more understanding that this is just how they are and enjoys his time with them regardless. (It helps a lot that just being around this little bean of a boy can lift their spirits anyway).

And you know what’s even better for him? When Lord Diavolo gives the MC tickets to things that they don’t want to go to, sometimes they’ll invite him along or give them to him instead! 

He’s gone to the Devil’s Coast with MC and Simeon sooo many times by now and he loves it!! Maybe the Devildom isn’t so bad after all, I mean, it can be a lot of fun when you go to the right places, anyway.

Solomon

Oh, he finds them both deeply fascinating and utterly terrifying - so just his sort of test sub-er, person!

He kids (somewhat), Solomon isn’t that dumb/lacking in self-preservation instinct. Experimenting on a child of death in a land of the dead (even if it’s not their “home turf”) would be asking for trouble. They’d have more than enough ammunition to fight him off and if their father found out? Immortality wouldn’t even begin to save him...

That being said, questions aren’t necessarily experiments… and oh boy, does he have a lot of them.

If the MC isn’t being pestered by Diavolo or the brothers, then they’re probably having to put up with Solomon nipping at their heels trying to get them to use their powers or answer all sorts of “innocent” scientific questions…

“MC, reanimation of Greek dead requires a blood offering, correct? Do you have to sacrifice animals for that process or do you allow them to feast on your own?”

“MC, when you’re controlling a skeleton do you move the body as a whole or do you have to animate each individual bone due to their lack of ligaments?”

“Think fast!! Oh look, you just caught the skull of my good friend, Richard! Could you bring him back from that, or should I fetch the rest of him?” 🙂

They put up with it because, believe it or not, he’s not nearly the weirdest person they’ve ever met (a lot of crazy people drift in and out of the land of the dead…) and well… they’re a pretty lonely person too so it’s not like they have a lot of standards when it comes to friendships anyway.

But the second they breathe a word of this to Barbs or Diavolo, this boy is on his way to a royal restraining order… Where does he even get those skulls…?

[ragingbookdragon]

I’m Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 7

Batfamily x Batsis Story

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author’s Note: Anyone order a part seven? Cause I got a part seven for y'all. Enjoy! -Thorne

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

Ever since the meeting that night, she’d gotten more letters from her family than she’d ever received in twenty-one years. Not that she decided to read them. The first line from Dick’s letter was, ”I never wanted you to leave because of me. If only I’d known…”. She couldn’t keep reading, and she wasn’t sure if it were from guilt, sadness, or anger, but there was something there that she didn’t want to face.

It didn’t stop there though. They kept coming even if she tacked a return to sender on it and sent it back. She’d even labeled one and written, ”Stop writing me.” but that didn’t stop them. Wally texted her every other night on top of the letters and she wanted to strangle him through the phone.

She knew though, that if she could keep holding out for three more months, she’d be home free. Wherever home was at this point. Every city she kept thinking about had some type of vigilante and there was nothing that didn’t; eventually she decided on Coast City. Somewhere warm and sunny, and as far from Gotham and Central as possible.

Of course that little voice in the back of her head just kept telling her to talk to them, but she was going to be as stubborn against it as possible—but time was dwindling, and so was her resolve.

***

“Ophelia, have you seen the extra bag of espresso beans? I can’t remember where you put them the other week.” She waited for a response. “Ophelia?” she turned and frowned. “Why did I accept the manager’s position when I can’t even round up my workers?”

She walked out of the storage and wiped her hands on the rag at her waist. “Ophelia?” A giggle sounded at the counter and when she walked out, her eyes went wide at the sight.

Jason was leaning against the counter with that smile he used to use on the models at the galas. He smiled at Ophelia. “Tell me, what do you make better, the cappuccinos or lattes?”

“Well, I make a —”

“She makes a mean ‘get in the back and find my espresso beans’,” she grunted and both of them jumped.

“Melisandre!” Ophelia stuttered, pale cheeks flushing pink. “I thought you were in the back.”

“I was. Think you can go find the coffee beans you put away?” She shot Ophelia a stare that screamed ‘scram’ and the girl nodded, hurrying to the storage room.

“Aww, why’d you run the cutie off, Melisandre?” Jason queried. “I was going to ask her out on—”

“Can I talk to you?” she interrupted, voice barely containing her seething rage. “Outside.”

Jason shrugged and shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “Sure, but be careful, people might get suspicious.”

She grunted and walked outside, listening to him follow and when the door shut, she turned around and hissed, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just getting coffee.”

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me, Jason. We both know that’s a load of bullshit.”

His eyes narrowed and he noted, “You’ve really gotten comfortable using foul language. You know that, (Y/N)?”

She glared at him. “What. Do. You. Want.”

“You won’t answer our letters,” he shrugged. “Didn’t have a lot of options to talk.”

“And showing up at my job is the better option?” she griped.

“It was that or your house, (Y/N). Take your pick but you can’t have both.”

“Well, maybe my silence is supposed to be the answer to those letters. Did you think about that?”

“I did,” he nodded. “But after the third letter being rejected, I decided to go big or go home.”

(Y/N) growled. “Go home.”

Jason smirked. “No.”

“I’m not fucking joking here, Jason. I don’t want you coming here. Ever.”

“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn,” he retorted then stepped forward and grabbed her wrist. “You don’t wanna talk willingly, fine. I’ll make you talk to me. And if I have to show up here every day, I will.”

“No, you won’t.”

Jason cocked a brow and tightened his grip. “You wanna bet? Because I’m not Dick and I’m sure as hell not Bruce. I don’t have a day job to get to.” He smirked. “I can do this all day.”

(Y/N) bit the inside of her cheek and thought for a moment then sighed and yanked her arm away. “Fine. Come to my apartment after five. We’ll talk there.”

“Thank—”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she interrupted coldly. “I’m agreeing for one meeting and then you fuck off back to Gotham City and leave me the hell alone for good.” She spun on her heel and started back for the door when his voice reached her, tired and pained.

“Do you really hate all of us? Do you really hate us like you make yourself think you do?”

(Y/N)’s feet felt like lead and she stopped, gazing at the glass door. “I don’t know, Jason.”

“Then let me help.”

“You can find the apartment on your own. I know you’re good at looking for homes.” She slipped in the café door, leaving him standing there shocked and hurt.

***

Sure enough, a minute after five o’clock, her doorbell rang and she called, “It’s open.” The door opened and shut, and she looked up from the little kitchenette, watching the way Jason walked into her apartment, gazing around the empty living room.

“Shit, do you live in a home or a prison cell?”

(Y/N) grunted. “Nice quip. Come up with that by yourself?”

He wandered into the kitchen, leaning back against the counter as she prepared dinner. “What’re you making?”

“Chicken marsala,” she replied. “You’re here to talk. Start talking.”

“Are you going to be a bitch like you were the other night or can I ask about life in Central the last three years?” she shot him a glare, warning him, but he paid it no mind. “You going to school?”

(Y/N) nodded. “I go to Central City Community College. Take classes all week at different times.”

“What are you studying?” he asked.

“For now, general studies, but I’m minoring in political science.”

“Planning on a four year after you graduate?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.” Her hands stalled for a moment. “I don’t have the money for a big school to get a bachelors.” Shaking her head, she chopped up the vegetables. “Figure if I can get a job in the area, I can scrounge up enough to start the process though.”

“Might take years,” Jason noted, and she nodded.

“Yeah, hard work usually does.” (Y/N) glanced at him. “What’s Cassandra like?”

He blinked, evidently not expecting that, though he recovered and smiled. “She’s great honestly. Kicks ass better than anyone I know.”

“Even Batman?”

Jason huffed a laugh. “I’m sure she could wipe the floor with each of us if she decided to not hold back. Her mom’s Lady Shiva and her dad’s David Cain.”

“I don’t know who they are but I’m assuming from the tone that they’re not exactly the best parents in the world.”

“No…they’re not.” He agreed. “David didn’t teach Cass how to speak so she’s been mute all her life.”

“I’ve heard the few interviews she’s given,” (Y/N) replied. “She’s very eloquent when she does.”

“Shakespeare’s influence. And probably Emily Dickinson.” He smiled. “I leave her a lot of books to read so I can be her favorite.”

She snorted. “Yeah, that sounds like you.” Sliding the cast iron skillet into the oven, she sat at the crappy metal dining table, Jason taking the seat on the other side. (Y/N) scratched at the table. “Does Bruce like her?” she questioned lowly, and he nodded.

“Loves her like she’s his own.” He her with cautious eyes. “Just like he loves you.” Jason watched the emotion flash across her face, quick as lighting, a deep sorrow, then she was humming.

“Well, that’s good then.” She cleared her throat and looked at the clock. “How’ve you been? I hear a lot about Outlaws.”

Jason chuckled. “Yeah, that’s my band of renegades. Me, Roy Harper, and Koriand’r.”

“Remind me, those were Speedy and Starfire, right?”

He snorted. “Arsenal and Starfire. But yeah, close enough.”

(Y/N) got up and pulled two glasses from the cabinet before going to the refrigerator and getting the lemonade. She poured them both glasses and sat back down. “How’d you manage to wrangle two of the Titans into your posse?”

“Kori willingly tagged along, and Roy won’t leave me alone,” he griped, sipping his lemonade.

“Mmm…and how does Dick feel about you stealing two of his exes?”

Jason choked on his drink, spilling it on the table and down his chin. “That’s not—” he coughed. “That’s not what that is.”

“Uh huh, sure it’s not.”

“It isn’t,” he glowered.

“Riiiiiiight,” she drawled out with a grin, then took a sip and set her glass back down. “Figured you’d get Cass along with you. she seems like she’d be fit for Outlaws.”

He shook his head. “Nah, she’d be better off with Tim and his Young Justice weirdos.”

“She non-lethal?”

“Mhm.”

They dwindled into silence until the timer went off on the oven and she pulled the skillet out and set two plates on the table. “You’re gonna feed me?” he asked as she handed him a fork.

(Y/N) scoffed. “Duh. I’m a bitch, but I’m a bitch with manners.” She smiled sweetly. “But you have to leave afterwards.”

“Mmm…can I crash on your couch?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

He shrugged. “Figured I’d try anyways.”

They ate in silence, occasionally speaking about their lives the last three years, and when the food was all gone and the lemonade drunk, he sighed and reclined in the chair.

“What?” (Y/N) questioned and he shrugged.

“Dunno…I’d like to do this again soon.” His teal eyes found hers. “It’s been too long since we were together.”

“Tread carefully,” she murmured, looking at the wall and he sighed.

“Sis, talk to me,” he begged. “Even if it’s just to tell me how much you hate me, just talk to me.” She didn’t respond and he sighed again, standing from the table. “Thanks for dinner.”

“…I hate that you all put Gotham and every civilian before our family.” Jason stopped dead in his tracks and turned, gazing at her, though she didn’t tear her eyes from the wall. “I hate that the only time I felt like anyone paid any attention to me was when we were at galas and even then, the attention was just for show. It didn’t matter because all anyone wanted to do was get the hell out of the manor and go on patrol. It didn’t matter because I wasn’t like any of you. I wasn’t a part of the real family.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. “I hate that I spent more nights sitting in a dark and silent manor than spending them with my family. I hate that I never had a normal family growing up where we’d go for ice-cream after school and attend school performances. I hate that I got stuck with a bunch of siblings hellbent on giving every piece of themselves to the world and they couldn’t take one night off to have a family night to save their lives. To at least pretend to be normal.”

(Y/N) finally took her eyes from the wall and he felt his heart tighten as the tears slipped down her cheeks and she breathed, “I hate that I was born Bruce Wayne’s biological daughter and I’d give anything and everything I have to be someone else’s daughter and sister.”

Jason’s mouth felt dry, and he didn’t have single thing to say to her and she whispered, “Is that what you wanted to hear, Jason?” she blinked. “Because that’s what I feel every morning I wake up.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, and she cleared her throat, wiping her cheeks.

“Yeah well, I’m three years passed sorry.” (Y/N) nodded to the front door. “You should leave now.”

Jason nodded but his feet didn’t move. For a moment, he couldn’t move them, then he sucked in a breath and started edging back to the door. When he neared the door, he pulled it open and paused, looking back at her. “(Y/N)?” she didn’t answer but he said it anyway. “I love you. More than you’ve ever known.” He sighed and stepped out, closing it behind him.

(Y/N) buried her face in her hands and sobbed alone at the dinner table.

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

Tags!: @itsnottilly @cloudyskylines @starflyer-104 @iwillstaywiththemforever @justine-en @weirdgirlfromtx @notsostraightweeb @candlestudy @willowoo @peterxwade24 @the-atlantic-french-fry @bad-bouquet-of-emotions @vvipgot7be @pure-princess-97 @atomicsoulhumanspy @foreverthefloor @natatawa-ako @impactshawol @bethabear12 @adazzlingsakura @kimhanbiin @thatanonymouschocolate @mischief-writter-24-7 @lostinwonderland314 @elz-zalarrr @lady-of-the-abyss @peqchynero @d3m0n8ch1ld @goldenguki @fallen-wolf22 @battlenix

[singtotheskiies]

a single word // bruce banner x reader

request: Nothing would make me happier than a Bruce Banner X reader. He doesn't get nearly as much love as he deserves and he is adorable and smart and one of the many loves of my life. If you can make it a soulmate AU it would be even better and you would be my very bestest friend. But you don't have to write this if you don't want to.

summary: your soulmate’s emotions are written on your forearm. sometimes it’s only a single word—anger—and a news feed of New York being destroyed starts you on a mission to find him.

words: 2301

warnings: slight angst, but otherwise lotsa fluff:)))

a/n: i’m so sorry for the delay in writing! i was sick for a few days and found it really difficult to write. for that reason, this imagine may not flow as well or have as detailed writing as others, but i still hope it’s enjoyable!!

✖️✖️✖️

Your soulmate’s emotions were—complicated, to say the least.

Most people had multiple words on their arm based on what their soulmate was feeling at the moment—it wasn’t uncommon to see entire forearm-lengths of words like curious and fearful and hopeful. Sometimes your arm had a normal, long list like that, but over the past few years, things had begun to change.

Sometimes, the writing on your arm would fade away to one word—ANGER.

It was menacing—red and in all caps. Sometimes it would only last a few seconds, your arm flickering from ANGER to fear or attempted calm. Sometimes it stayed for hours before fading to confusion and regret and self-hatred. Your heart went out to your soulmate, mourning their seeming lack of stability. Sure, it was more interesting than a typical soulmate bond, but it seemed as if they had a hard time dealing with life and controlling their emotions. You hoped that if you ever met them, you’d be able to provide a much-needed constant of calm.

For your whole life, though, you were left clueless as to who it could possibly be. Someone who had such blindingly intense emotions was surely one of a kind—but no hints presented themselves until the attack on New York.

You were working like any other day when your coworker suddenly barged in, babbling about something horrific and otherworldly that was happening on the East Coast. Standing up in alarm (and, quite frankly, slight disbelief), you grabbed your phone and quickly opened your news app only to have your friend’s story confirmed. You clicked on a news feed, watching in utter shock as entire city blocks were torn down by what looked like otherworldly spaceships. They twisted through the air grotesquely, resembling some sort of worm or insect. Clearly, they were not from Earth.

A reporter was attempting to interview a shaken citizen—a young woman who seemed to be on the point of crying. The reporter wasn’t having much success, as the young lady’s voice was too choked with tears to get much out. However, after several painful moments, the woman’s face changed as she looked up. The camera pivoted wildly to show a small group of individuals making their way purposefully down the street. As it zoomed in, you got a closer look—the people looked intimidating and like they had a purpose.

All except one. The camera was slightly fuzzy and the chaos going on around it didn’t help, but you could tell a few details about this odd one out. He looked to be shorter than many of the others, with curly salt-and-pepper hair and a look of terrified confusion. He was unarmed with any weapon or armor, dressed only in work clothes. Your arm itched and burned as you looked at him, and you looked down at it in surprise.

Unsure, afraid, determined, disbelieving.

“No way,” you breathed, and your friend looked at you sideways.

“I know! Who are these people? I have no clue what’s going on anymore.” You didn’t have the energy to tell her that you were most stunned by the fact that the seemingly unarmed man may very well be the soulmate you had waited your whole life to meet. Although you did agree with her that you wanted to know who he was.

Before you could get a better look at the group of people, your maybe-soulmate spoke to one of the others and turned around to fight. However, as he did, he grew several feet taller, huge new muscles bunching together as his shirt ripped away to reveal—green skin? You couldn’t believe your eyes, staring at the screen in almost catatonic shock. Your arm started stinging again, and as you looked down at it, it shifted into that all-too-familiar word: ANGER.

“I have to go home,” you told your friend, packing up your things in a rush.

“Are you okay?” she asked you.

“Don’t feel well,” you said. Several other people were heading for the doors. You figured a disaster of this scale would cause more than a few changes in schedule.

Getting home in record time, you turned on your television and sat, not even bothering to toe off your shoes. You watched in utter astonishment as New York continued to be trashed by an otherworldly army. The news feeds gave as many updates on the team attempting to fight the aliens off as they could. Your eyes were peeled for any flashes of green, and you were occasionally rewarded with a few seconds of whoever-he-was fighting off creatures singlehandedly. Was this beast of a man the same timid person who had walked with the other fighters at the beginning? Maybe he was possessed or something. Hopefully he wouldn’t die fending off the alien attackers—possibly finding your soulmate and then having them ripped away from you on the same day was something you’d prefer not to happen.

After hours of battle, all the attackers had been taken out and the cube of energy—the Tesseract, it was called—had been taken to a government facility. You hadn’t seen any more of your potential soulmate, but the words on your arm had gone back to small black words: exhausted, relieved, frightened. He was still alive, thank goodness, but your only hope of finding out who he was was through news of some sort, so you kept your television on and scrolled through news websites as you ate dinner. After an hour or two, you began to feel a little hopeless—you couldn’t find anywhere that was listing the names of the group who had fought back—the Avengers, as they were being called. Eventually, you gave up and decided to call it a night. Maybe you’d find out more in the morning.

To your surprise (and relief) there was an article titled “Just Who Are the Avengers?” that seemed to list a few names. It was scant information (unsurprising, since they seemed to be spies or government workers of some sort), but it was something. The name that you were looking for seemed to be Bruce Banner—the Incredible Hulk. You felt a surge of adrenaline as you typed his name into your phone, pulling up multiple sources about your potential soulmate.

You discovered that he was a top scientist, a man who had underwent a freak gamma radiation accident that caused him to turn into the Hulk when he didn’t have control over his emotions. He now worked to understand radiation as well as countless other fields of study—the man had seven PhDs! He seemed to be quite the extraordinary person, and the pictures available of him painted him out to be quite the handsome man as well.

You looked down at your arm and sighed. Terror and hopelessness. Judging by the blue ink, he must be having a nightmare. You set your jaw and resolutely looked for some way to contact him. Yes, he had just saved America, but you had a feeling he needed some actual good things in his life. You wanted to help if it were at all possible.

The best you could do was find an email address, so you started a draft and stared at your screen wondering out loud what to say.

“Hi, I’m your soulmate—probably. Saw you turn into a big green guy on TV—that’s something else! No, that’s stupid. Uh—you seem to have a lot of trauma going on, maybe I could hel��no, I’m not his therapist. C’mon, think!”

You eventually settled on a message that stated your awareness of who he was, an admiration for how bravely he had fought, and the possibility that you may be each other’s soulmates. Breathing deeply, you sent the message and left your laptop open for easy refreshing.

It took him almost 36 anxiety-ridden hours to respond back, but his response made you smile.

Dear (Y/N),

I was so surprised to hear from you that I nearly dropped my phone—in a good way, of course. I appreciate your compliments, and your description of what happens on your arm would certainly be a good match for me. You seem to be a wonderful person, and while I would love to meet you right away, the rest of the team and I have a few post-battle things we need to take care of. Does coffee about a week from now sound good? Let me know, and we can work out the details.

Sincerely, Bruce

You emailed him back saying that coffee sounded wonderful, including your phone number because texting would be a little easier, you thought. He texted you about a half hour later, giving you details to a coffee place that was far enough away from downtown to be safe. Can’t wait to see you there, he said, and you grinned as you sent back a similar message.

Putting your phone down on your kitchen table, you hummed in satisfaction—finally, after waiting for years and years, you were meeting your soulmate.

✖️✖️✖️

You were a little nervous, to say the least, but it was tempered with a great deal of excitement. As you neared the coffee shop, you touched your hair almost self-consciously, but then took your hand away quickly. All you could do was hope for the best—if the two of you were really meant to be, things would go well. Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and went inside.

You found him almost immediately, and he stood up as if by instinct when you entered. He was at a small corner table, and his eyes met yours with a look of astonishment and admiration.

“(Y/N)?” he asked with near disbelief.

“Bruce,” you beamed, and without thinking, you threw your arms around him in a hug. He returned the gesture, arms wrapping tightly around you.

“I—I can’t believe you’re here,” he spoke into your hair. “I mean, really here. I always thought—“ he trailed off and you pulled back, looking in his deep brown eyes again.

“Of course I’m here, Bruce. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Thank you,” he said, smiling softly, and said “Shall we?” as he pulled out your seat for you. Thanking him, you took a seat and began studying his face as casually as you could. He had a strong jaw, full lips, lovely brown eyes, and the same curly brown-and-grey hair you had seen on the news. You had a very strong urge to reach out and slip your fingers through it, but resisted somehow. He noticed your eyes on him and cocked his head at you, a slight, sweet smile on his face.

“What?” he asked, his voice grinning along with him.

“Nothing, you’re just—really handsome,” you said, blushing. “I think you’re wonderful.” He blushed with you, and you smiled at each other for a long moment before discussing what you would order. After settling on a few things, you placed your orders and began chatting right away. He told you about his work in the science field (he shocked you with his intellect), while you told him about your job. You shared little facts about each other, and as you talked about your interests, he watched you intently with awestruck, loving eyes. It gave you more than a few butterflies, and you could still hardly believe that you were there with your soulmate.

After you finished your drinks, Bruce offered taking a walk outside. You nodded enthusiastically, wanting to spend as much time with him as you could. There’s a park nearby, fairly large for a city, with lots of pretty flowers and trees to enjoy. As you walked, you continued talking about all sorts of things.

Eventually the topic of his alien-fighting experience came up, and something in his eyes shifted. Looking down at your arm, you saw the words nervous and hopeful and worried etch themselves into your skin. You furrowed your brows in concern, and without thinking, took his hand. His fingers moved nervously under yours, but latched on with clear relief.

“I’m sorry,” he nearly whispered. “I just feel like—well, I can’t offer you normalcy, dependency, consistency. Sometimes he just takes over. I try, I really do, but I’ve still got a long way to go before I learn to control or even coexist with him. I could hurt you, I could break things, and it scares me, (Y/N). You’re very likely the best thing to ever come into my life, and I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Bruce,” you answered, tears welling up in the bottom of your eyes. “I don’t need consistency or perfection or anything close to it. All I need is you. We’ve been put together for a reason, and I’m going to fight for you, no matter what tries to stop us. I’m here for you now, and I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.”

He really did whisper now, your name softly under his breath. As his eyes met yours, you began to move a little closer, head tilting towards his as if magnetized. He raised his other hand to brush across your face gently, a question, and you smiled in response. With a soft tip of his head, your mouths fell together, eagerly gentle. Your hand came up to ruffle through his curls, and they felt just as lovely as you had imagined. The two of you stayed that way, together, touching, for several moments. As he came up for air, he rested his forehead against yours, kissing you again until your smiles outgrew the spaces between you.

“Thank you,” he murmured again, and as you looked into his blissful eyes, you noticed your arm—only a single word was on it, different from the one you typically saw by itself.

Smitten.

[thelastspeecher]

Best Revenge AU - Masks

I think like a week ago, I mentioned I was working on a write that featured Angie getting a bit more agency in the Best Revenge AU.  Here’s that write, finally finished.  Enjoy some of Angie’s backstory in this AU and her being more than just someone that things happen to.

——————————————————————————————

              Angie and Max sat high up in one of the tallest trees in the apple orchard.  It was the only place on the McGucket farm with some semblance of privacy.

              “So…” Angie started hesitantly.  Max looked at her.  His straw-blond hair had gotten shaggy recently, to the extent that Angie didn’t know how he could see through his bangs.  “I, uh, I heard back from West Coast Tech.”

              “And?”

              “I got in.”

              “You-”  Max’s jaw dropped.  “Angie, that’s amazin’!”  Angie smiled. “I actually just heard back from my first choice school, too.  University of Southern California.”

              “Where is that?”

              “Los Angeles.”  Max beamed.  “Which ain’t that far from San Diego.  We won’t be livin’ in the same city, but we won’t be that far apart.”  He suddenly looked down at the branch they were sitting on nervously.  “That- that is- if ya want to stay together.”

              “Of course!  I want to keep datin’ you!” Angie said.  She scooted closer to him.  Her fingers intertwined with his.  “Why wouldn’t I?  I’m in this fer the long haul, Sprout.”  Max grinned at his pet name, derived from how his abrupt growth spurt last summer had catapulted him from Angie’s height to almost a full foot taller than her.

              “Good.  ‘Cause I’m in it fer the long haul, too.”  He took a breath.  “And, actually, since the both of us don’t have plans on breakin’ up anytime soon, I wanted to share a secret with ya.”

              “Oh?” Angie said curiously.  “What would that be?”  Max pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to Angie.  Angie looked down at the object.  It was a small rock.  Before she could ask why he’d given her a rock, it flew out of her hand and back into Max’s.  She stared at him in shock.

              “I’m a super,” Max whispered.  He held out an open palm.  The rock hovered above it.  “Specifically, I got geokinesis.”

              “…Wow,” Angie breathed.

              “And…”  Max swallowed.  “I want to use my abilities to help people.”  Angie’s excitement plummeted.  “I want to be a hero.”  The last bit of hope Angie had held onto, that she had somehow misunderstood what Max meant, crashed.

              Oh, no!  Angie’s breath caught in her throat.  A hero?  But... She thought back to the plans she and Lute had come up with to enter the villainy scene out west.  They were both eager to follow in their parents’ criminal footsteps.  I can’t be a villain if my boyfriend is a hero.

              “Angie?” Max asked hesitantly.  “Is somethin’ wrong?”

              “No, I just- this is a lot to take in,” Angie said quietly.  She looked down at the ground far below them, her mind still racing.  “Bein’ a hero is, it’s-”

              “Yeah, it’s dangerous.  But I feel like I was given my power fer a reason,” Max said. Exuberance colored his voice.  “I don’t want to waste it.  Y’know?”

              “Yeah…”

              Can I really give up on bein’ a villain fer Max?  Before Angie could think on it more, there was a loud crack.  The branch they were sitting on split in two.  Max let out a shout.  Angie quickly wrapped her arms around him, summoning winds to keep them aloft. They hovered a few inches above the ground for a moment before she carefully lowered them.

              “Yer a super, too,” Max whispered.  Angie broke off the embrace.

              “Yeah.”

              “That’s incredible!”  Max put his hands on the sides of Angie’s face.  “May- may I kiss ya?” he asked.  Angie nodded.  Max leaned in, planting a sweet kiss on her lips.  “I knew you were somethin’ special,” he said once he had pulled away. He stroked her cheek.  Angie leaned into the gesture, warmth spreading through her chest.  “We could be heroes together!”

              “No,” Angie said sharply.  Max seemed taken aback, but recovered quickly.

              “I understand.  It ain’t fer everyone.”  He smiled at her.  “I love ya somethin’ fierce.”

              “I love you, too,” Angie said.

              But do I love him enough to give up on bein’ a villain?

              “Now that I think about it, maybe it’s fer the best if yer not a hero,” Max said.  “I couldn’t bear to see ya get hurt.”  Angie stood on her tiptoes to kiss him.

              Yes.  I do.

-----

              Angie landed in the backyard of the house she and her husband had bought back when they first got engaged.  She watched her flower garden mournfully for a few moments.

              I poured so much love into this place, this relationship.  And I’m ‘bout to leave it all behind.  The back door opened.

              “Angie, is that you?” Max called.

              “Yes.”  Angie walked over to her husband.  Max smiled at her.

      ��       “I’m glad yer home.  I was startin’ to get worried ‘bout ya,” he said softly.  He kissed her cheek.

              “I can take care of myself.”

              “Angel, I know yer very capable.  But even the most prepared person can get hurt,” Max said. The familiar words sparked Angie’s simmering anger.  She brushed past him roughly.  “Angel?”

              “Don’t call me yer angel,” Angie spat.  Max followed her inside.

              “What’s wrong?” Max asked, closing the door behind them.  “I thought yer walk or flight or whatever would’ve cooled ya off.”

              “It did.”  Angie turned to face him.

              “Good.”  Max sighed. “I hate when ya storm off all angry fer some reason.  And it’s been happenin’ so frequently lately-”

              “‘Fer some reason’?” Angie demanded.  “Max, I have told ya each and every time I’ve left why I’m doin’ so.  So, either ya aren’t listenin’, or ya don’t think my reasons ‘re valid.  And quite frankly, I ain’t sure which one’s worse!” Max walked up to her.  He stroked Angie’s cheek.

              “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry, okay?” Max said soothingly.  “Angel, I don’t want to fight.”

              “I don’t want to fight either,” Angie said. She took a shaky breath.  “Which is why I can’t do this no more.”

              “What do you mean?”

              “I’m leaving.”

              “Wh- but you just got here.”

              “Not-”  Angie met Max’s gaze directly.  “Not like that.  Max, I want a divorce.”  Max’s amber eyes widened.  One of Angie’s favorite ways to get Max to blush was to say she wanted to drink him in, just like the cream soda his eyes reminded her of.  Her heart broke at the memory of all the times she’d turned him red and stuttering.

              “What?!  Angie, no! No, we can- we can work through this!” Max desperately reached for Angie’s hands.  “You don’t- we-”

              “We can’t work through this,” Angie said softly.  “It’s clear to me now that what you want and what I want contradict each other.”

              “That ain’t true!”

              “It is!” Angie insisted.  “You want a baby right away and a wife who’ll stay home to take care of him or her.  I don’t want to leave my job, I don’t want a baby right now.  If we stick together, only one of us will wind up happy, and the other one ‘ll be bitter.”

              “That’s not- Angie, please!” Max begged.  He squeezed her hands.  “Remember the first time we danced!”

              Freshman year of high school.  Yer friends dared you to dance with me, mine dared me to dance with you.

              “Our first kiss!”

              Under the mistletoe during Christmas break, when ya came over to play games with Lute, but wound up helpin’ me bake treats in the kitchen.  You tasted like the sugar cookies we made together.

              “When we went to college!”

              We spent every weekend together, stayin’ up late and wakin’ up early just so’s we wouldn’t waste a single minute with each other.

              “Our wedding!”

              When you lifted my veil, ya looked at me like I was the sunrise. A single tear traced its way down Angie’s cheek.  Like I was the most beautiful woman in the world, and the only thing in yours.

              “Don’t you remember?” Max asked.  Angie choked back a sob.

              “I do remember.  That’s the problem.”

              “What- what do you mean?”

              “You aren’t the person you were when we made those memories together.”

              “What?” Max whispered.  Angie pulled her hands away.

              “You’ve changed, Max.  The memories I hold most dear are all from when ya encouraged me to be adventurous, when ya followed me into trouble without a thought, when ya asked ‘fore kissin’ me.”

              “Do you want me to ask before I kiss you?  I can do that.”

              “It’s just an example.”  Angie looked away.  “An example of how ya used to care about my opinion.  Ya don’t anymore.”

              “That’s not-”

              “Don’t lie,” Angie snapped, suddenly driven to her breaking point.  “If ya cared ‘bout my feelin’s or thoughts, we wouldn’t be havin’ this conversation!” She turned away.  “I’m grabbin’ a bag to stay at Lute’s fer the night.”

              “No!”  Max grabbed Angie’s wrist.  “Don’t leave!”  Angie let out a soft gasp of pain at the strength of his grip.

              That’s goin’ to leave a mark, ain’t it?

              “Let me go,” she whispered.

              “No.”

              “Let me go,” Angie repeated firmly.  “Or I’ll make you.”

              “How?” Max asked.  Angie ground her teeth.  She stomped on Max’s foot, making him yelp in pain.  Using the moment of surprise to her advantage, she ripped her hand free of Max’s grip and grabbed his arms, twisting them behind his back.  She shoved him to the ground.

              “That’s how,” she spat.  “All those times ya told me I was too fragile to walk down the street at night, I was actually capable of takin’ down a trained superhero.”

              “Where did you-”

              “It ain’t yer business where I learned how to fight.  If I planned on stayin’ with ya, maybe I’d tell ya.  But since I’m leavin’, I won’t say a word.”  Angie let Max go.  He stayed on the floor, still in shock.  “And since ya can’t behave yourself, I’m goin’ to Lute’s now.  He’ll drop by later to pick up some things fer me.”  Max slowly sat up.  He looked up at Angie with plaintive eyes.

              “Angel…”

              “Eat shit,” Angie snarled.  She stormed out through the door she had entered not even ten minutes ago.  Before she took flight, she looked down at her wrist.  Like she’d feared, the skin was already turning purple.  Bile rose in her throat.

              “Angie!” Max shouted.  A gust of wind blew the back door shut, then lifted Angie into the air. Tears streaming down her face, she looked back at the house one last time.

              “Goodbye, Sprout.”

-----

              Angie and Stan sat on the roof of Stan’s apartment complex.  From their spot on the ledge, they could see the city bustling far below.  Angie idly kicked her legs, which, like Stan’s, dangled over the edge, high above the streets.

              These shoes better not fall off ‘n hit some poor pedestrian.

              “I like the view,” Angie said idly.

              “Yeah.  It’s kinda weird, actually,” Stan said.

              “That ya like the view?” Angie asked.  Stan nodded.  “Why?”

              “When I was a kid, I was afraid of heights.”

              “Really?”  Angie stared at her boyfriend.  “Ya don’t seem the type to be easily spooked.”

              “Flattery, huh?”

              “No, truth.”  Angie tilted her head, smiling.  “Yer a rather brave feller.”  The compliment got her intended reaction.  Stan immediately blushed.  “So, what made ya stop bein’ afraid of heights?”

              “Well…”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.  “I stopped being afraid of heights when I realized I could use my powers to fly. No point in being scared of falling if you won’t ever hit the ground.”  Angie opened her mouth.  “Yeah, I’m, uh, I’m a super.”  Stan held out his hand.  Fire crackled into life above his open palm.

              “Oh, I knew that,” Angie said.  The fire disappeared.  Stan stared at her.  “I was just goin’ to say that now I know yer at least a level two, if not level three pyro.”

              “How- you- what-” Stan stammered.  Angie smiled.

              “Not to insult you or anything, but pyros ain’t exactly rare.  I know how to spot one.”

              “Oh.”  Stan grinned. “Makes sense you’d be able to spot a super, since you’re one, too.”  Angie’s jaw dropped.  “Don’t get me wrong, you’re pretty good at hiding it.  But there’ve been a few times where you get worked up, and suddenly it’s really windy, even though we’re inside and all the doors and windows are closed.  You’re an aerokinetic, right?”

              “Yer more clever than ya claim to be,” Angie commented, still reeling from Stan’s revelation.  “Especially since aerokinesis is a pretty rare power.  Most folks don’t even realize it exists.”

              “My mom knew an aero,” Stan said with a shrug. He took a deep breath.  “But me being a super isn’t the only thing I need to tell you.”

              “Oh?”

              “I’m also a mask.”

              Shit.  Angie’s blood ran cold.  It would be just my luck if I’ve only ever dated two people and they were both heroes.

              “If ya don’t mind me askin’, which, ah, side do ya fight on?” Angie asked carefully.  Stan winced.

              “The illegal side.”  He held up his hands.  “I know you’re probably the kinda person who doesn’t like the…law-avoidant community.  But-”

              “I don’t mind none.”

              “Wait, really?”

              “Ya don’t do any of the really bad stuff, right?” Angie asked.  “Just things like theft?”

              “Mostly, yeah.”

              “Then my statement stands.  I don’t mind,” Angie said, struggling to keep her response mild.  Stan gaped at her.  “Yer a good man, whether ya steal or not.”

              He’s a villain!  He’s a pyro villain.  Angie searched Stan’s face.  Oh, he’s prob’ly that coworker Lute likes.  What’s his name?  Flamethrower.

              “You really don’t care I’m a villain?” Stan pried.

              I prefer it.

              “Nope.”  Angie smiled sweetly.  “I care ‘bout who ya are as a person.”  Stan smiled back.  “But I do have a question.”

              “Shoot.”

              “Why are ya tellin’ me this?  We’ve only been datin’ fer a month.”

              “My gut said I could trust you,” Stan said with a shrug.  “My gut’s never been wrong.”

              “That’s why ya felt comfortable tellin’ me,” Angie said.  “Not why ya told me.”  Stan eyed her.  “If ya don’t want to share, ya don’t have to.  But don’t dress up an answer I didn’t ask fer as the one I did.”  Stan managed a crooked grin.

              “Damn.  There’s no fooling you.”

              “My folks raised me right.”

              Any villain worth their salt has to be good at controllin’ a conversation.

              “Well, you figured out I was trying to get out of telling you, so I guess you’ve earned the answer,” Stan said, rubbing the back of his neck.  He sighed.  “My mom was a hero.  But she didn’t tell my Pops until she already had three kids with him.  She didn’t even tell him she was a super.”

              “Really?  That seems…” Angie paused to search for the right word.  “Ill-advised.”  Stan snorted.

              “No shit.  Pops woulda liked some warning before I burst into flames while he was holding me.  That’s how my powers manifested.  Pops was drying me off after a bath.  I caught on fire.”  Stan snickered.  “Luckily, he hadn’t drained the tub yet, so he chucked me back in and shouted for my mom. Mom had to come clean after that.”

              “Does pyrokinesis run in yer fam’ly?”

              “Nope.  Not even close.  My mom’s got your basic ESP package.  Shermie’s a normie.  And Ford’s got some weird teleportation thing.”

              “Who are Shermie and Ford?”

              “Shermie’s my older brother.  Ford’s not important.”  Stan looked away.  His voice suddenly became mournful.  “Not right now, anyways.”  Angie put her hand on his shoulder.  He looked at her with a weak smile.  “But, um, back to the stuff with my parents.  Shermie says that their marriage wasn’t exactly ideal before, but after Pops found out she was a superhero and kept it from him, it got worse.  I like how things are going, Ang.  I don’t wanna keep a big thing from you and risk you leaving me.”  Angie reached for Stan’s hand and intertwined her fingers with his.  “This is the best relationship I’ve ever been in.”

              “I’d say the same, but it ain’t as great a compliment, since I only ever dated one person ‘fore ya,” Angie said.  Stan chuckled.  Angie squeezed Stan’s hand.  “Thank you fer tellin’ me.”

              “Like I said, my gut says I can trust you.”

              “Yer gut is right.”  Angie grinned deviously.  “I ain’t no snitch.”  Stan laughed again.  Angie leaned against him, her head on his shoulder.  “I love you,” she whispered, for the first time since she’d left Max. Stan rested his head on top of hers.

              “I love you, too.”

[chaniters]

Masquerade

The next part of @kruk-art‘s Awan Cormac fic.  Writing the final parts of this finally!

Infiltrating GeniTech’s party, the rangers attempt to change the board’s mind about the riot, but things on the inside aren’t as calm as they initially seem. 

Spoilers ahead for Rebirth, as usual. 

__________________________________

You glance nervously to your left, as a whole platoon of soldiers clad in articulated carapace armors scrambles through the corridors ahead of you.

In your mind, GeniTech’s Arcology is now the Trojan fortification, the rioters are the greek, and the lot of you are a an improvised rebellious third party refusing to let history repeat itself, hidden inside the wooden horse Ortega asked you to build. All you can do is hope it won’t get burnt before crossing the gate.  

“You’re clear.” the guard announces. “Excuse me for the delay, we didn’t think anyone would be joining this late… especially with what’s happening…”

Ortega watches him without a word, before putting his mask back on. 

“...Enjoy the party” the guard states drily, opening the gate. 

All of you walk past, putting your masks back on, not stopping until the elevator’s doors close. It quickly fires upwards, taking you to the upper floor, where GeniTech’s Halloween celebration takes place. 

“Well done everyone,” Ortega says when it seems no guards are listening. 

Elyise disabled the dampeners, Steel used your scrambler to deactivate their retinal scan and you made them think you were legitimate party guests and that everything was in order. Anathema added fake zippers and other details to your suits so they have a Halloween-costume flair to them.   

This would have been pretty standard infiltration were you still at the farm, but it’s blowing your mind for completely different reasons.  Most humans wouldn’t know what to say to their creator if that even existed. That’s no dilemma for you, though.  The farm might have assembled you, but GeniTech came up with the very idea of you. What would you say to them, the people who invented you? What would you even…-

“Be on alert everyone,” you say coming back to earth. “Steel, will use his scanners to find board members. Elyise will deactivate the scramblers in the area one at a time. The rest, distract them with conversation until Ortega can get into position, and then…” you go on explaining. 

You suggested using your powers to change the Boards mind and let the people take refuge in the Arcology, but, it was Ortega who came up with this infernal plan. You have to admit it was a really good one. You still suggested a ton of changes needed for it to actually work, and the Marshall ended up putting you in charge in return. Steel’s glare made It’s painfully obvious everyone now knows you’ve got more experience with covert operations than any of them suspected, a point you had been trying to conceal, but that can’t be helped. 

“We’re here. Remember, mingle and wait for Steel’s word. Ready, Marshall?” you ask looking to Ortega, who gives a quick nod, giving this operation the go signal.

___________________________________

“...We appreciate power

I'll evade the human race, putting makeup on my face…”

You being you, the lyrics are frankly disturbing. At least that’s all you can think as you turn your back on the live band, broadcast via a hologram on the stage.

You take a drink from a passing waiter and walk up to the glass wall. The sight is magnificent from atop the central spire of the arcology, even obscured as it is now, possibly to diminish the sight of the fires and the approaching riot.  As Ortega Explained, Halloween has a different meaning for the genecorps. They created superheroes and their worship. These parties are an occasion to dress up as their creations, bask in their glory, and the profits they bring. There are posters of all of GeniTechs’ sponsored heroes on the walls. Even with the dampeners online, you can almost feel the gigantic egos of everyone inside.

It’s easy to understand why won’t they just call off the party from up here. This whole building is a pharaonic monument to their vanity and pride, and they won’t let Psychopathor, the public or anyone else get in their way. They own the west coast and will prove their power to anyone who dares interfere. If there has to be a war, they have the guns, soldiers and the technology to win it. They will put the rabble back in their place, or at least that’s what they think will happen. 

These people are loaded to a degree you hadn’t even considered could exist.  Their impossibly expensive costumes are sometimes better than those worn by some actual heroes you’ve met. There is an Owl walking by that has a reactive armor piece that the original could never afford. You saw someone wearing your own hero persona in a skintight armored nanomesh that could have taken bullets as if they were candy. She scoffed at your own, by comparison, shoddy suit, leaving you with all manner of questions. 

Are you the knockoff here?!

“Big party, huh?” someone says, holding a drink next to you. “First time to an event like this”

You turn to see The Void, drinking a colored shot next to you, only his lips visible with the mask partially pulled up.

“You too?” you say trying to strike a conversation, as you were taught to do. “I must confess, I’ve never seen a party like this before.”  

“Well, I plan to see many more like this my friend,” he says with a mischievous soft smile. “Many, many more”

As he says that, you notice many things happening at once.

First, you hear Steel on your left ear, confirming a board member is in your vicinity, which means you should pull over. Before you manage a full step back from the glass wall and this man talking to you, you can feel your thoughts relaxing and the dampeners going down. 

You expand your mind, ready to home in the GeniTech executive like a hornet… but instead realizing the man beside you is the real-

“Nath?!” you exclaim before bitting your tongue. 

“Awan?” he says spilling his drink, glowing eyes on his mask fixated onto you in shock. 

Neither of you even think, farm training actings on its own. Your hand reaches forward, trying to bend his arm backward, but knowing you’re better at judo he spins faster to avoid your grab. You took your chance and failed, and there’s no way to avoid the incoming kick that pushes you deeper into the crowd of fancy rich assholes playing armored heroes and villains. 

A false Green Blast and Ophidian both curse ruining their looks, and by the time you get free of them, The Void has banished among the other costumes. 

“Sidestep! Sidestep, come in?!” Steel’s voice in your ear becomes audible again. “We’ve got the executive! Hurry up”

“I… I just saw The Void,” you say 

“What?!” Ortega’s voice floods the channel. “Mierda, who invited that asshole?”

“ I don’t know… He was just standing there and…”

The music goes on.

“Sidestep, are you ok? You’re looking drowsy” Ortega’s question lingers in your ears.  

The room seems to be spinning with all these insane people’s minds clashing against your weak shields. You hold on to a tall table for a moment, trying to get the world back into focus. 

“I’m ok. Void distracted me, and you know I have to prepare around crowds. These people’s egos are immense, taking it all in after the dampeners went off is too much… and the music’s not helping either.”

“Awan, can you still do this?” he asks

“Yes.” you say straightening up. “I’m ok. Just needed a moment, I’m fine now.” 

“Ok… well then I say we go as planned... Everyone keep watch for The Void. We don’t know what’s he’s doing here and…” 

The music, lights, and everything seems to go off at once, along with his communication. 

Shit.

You’re not caught unaware this time and immediately switch to night vision. All the partygoers seem to be expecting something to happen. Maybe some sort of surprise?

“Use the secondary channel!” you hear Ortega’s voice again, and you quickly adjust, as everyone on the team asks what’s going on.

“Maybe it’s a surprise?” Sunstream asks “I hear these parties can go wild…”

“I don’t think so, this is all too much of a coincidence…” Sentinel says “Something is wrong, I can feel it and...”

The lights go back on, the crowd cheering as Reaper himself is now on stage, wearing his dark cloak, hood and trademark glowing spectral scythe in his left hand. Everybody loves a real legend like him, standing taller than life. 

Still, the cheers die off rather quickly, as they follow his right arm, noticing that he is strangling GeniTech’s CEO with his skeletal fingers while his white skull cackles in a decidedly macabre and less than jovial tone. The scream of pain, the skin wrinkling, the hair going white, turning into a husk, a skeleton, and then finally breaking to pieces and disintegrating… It all seems far too realistic. A few people on the front row cough as they are bathed in handfuls of the floating dust, and everyone’s deathly silent by then.

“Sentinel dear, do you ever get tired of being so fucking right?” Elyise asks tiredly.  

___________________________________________________

My Fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

The song is We Appreciate Power by Grimes, which of course I do not own.

[carriagelamp]

May 2020 Book Review - Short and Sweet

Man, my experience with quarantine has been bonkers -- on one hand going stir-crazy with nothing to do, but on the other hand I have officially been working during all of it and it has made my job a very stressful one and boy howdy is that ramping up for June! Brain fry is still my dear friend and companion, so this is a month of 

~short and sweet~ books, most of it kids lit, that take no brain power and are just a pleasant little treat for my brain. Reading is so much more fun when you’re willing to be compassionate to your own brain and what it can handle!

I Spy: A Book Of Picture Riddles

These books were one of the best things in an elementary school library, and honestly? Is still ridiculously fun. I don’t think you can outgrow I Spy books? So fun to look at, amazing pictures especially when you remember they’re made with physical objects that are actually photographed, satisfying rhymes, and a nice shift for your brain. It gave me something to think about that wasn’t covid-anxiety-related and something to look at that wasn’t a screen. Such a nice break.

Spy X: The Code // Spy X: Hide and Seek

The first two books of the Spy X series. My brother and I loved these as kids, and I dug them out to reread them now. Honestly, they’re still cool books. The story follows two children whose mother seems to have “disappeared”. They know she, like their father, works for a secretive “Company” that may or may not be connected to the military, but they don’t realize how sinister that might actually be until they get a mysterious package on their birthday. They slowly realize that their mom is truly involved in something sinister as they’re drawn into a world of espionage and it’s up to them to follow the clues and keep her secrets in order to bring her home safe. This book has lots of fun riddles, mysteries, and gadgets that are excellent for older elementary school readers (and for adults like me looking for a fun child-adventure romp).

The Elders Are Watching

An incredibly poignant illustrated poem done in the form of a picture book. While it’s appropriate for children, this is honestly pretty heavy hitting as an adult and is very worth the read. It’s a collaborative work between a Canadian Métis author Dave Bouchard and a West Coast First Nations artist Roy Henry Vickers. All the illustrations are his and they’re breath-taking. Seriously, I don’t know what else to say about this, it’s worth the read if you want that’s both short and still moving.

Animals of the Salish Sea

As long as we’re talking about the Canadian West Coast First Nations, I’ll add this little board book as well. It’s a cute book about Salish animals and what they represent and teach in that culture. It’s not long, but the Salish-style art is bright and fun, and so are the lessons.

Riding Academy: A Horse For Mary Beth

IS MARY BETH HORSE SHY??!?

I haven’t read a Horse Girl Book in probably decades and I as soon as I realized I was going to settle into a children’s lit reading spree I knew I needed to find one. There’s something so satisfying about books written about young girls becoming enamored with horses, they’re so earnest. And this book was more educational, horse-wise, than I would have expected! It follows Mary-Beth who boards at a new school. Originally she isn’t a part of the horse riding program, but she soon finds out all three of her roommates are and, so as not to feel like an outsider, she ends up claiming that she was just about to sign up for it. Even though she’s terrified of horses. It’s a simple, generic book, but very sweet, and all four roommates have a surprising amount of personality (especially Andie who is a complete shit-disturber and whom I adore)

Dolphin Diaries: Leaving the Shallows // Dolphin Diaries: Chasing The Dream

Another “young girl loves animals and has a Bond with them” series of books because I loved them as a kid and I still vibe with them now. They’re heart-warming y’all. Anyway, this is a series that one of those series that’s written by a million different authors who all share a pen name so the quality varies wildly. Chasing the Dream was honestly kinda garbage, but I enjoyed Leaving the Shallows. They follow Jody, whose parents travel the world studying and filming dolphins. Jody travels all over with her family and the crew of their research ship, learning about dolphins and doing her best to help protect them. I’d say a highlight about this series is that it’s aggressively pro conservation and environmental protection and is pretty educational about those topics, in a way that’s understandable and interesting to young readers. 

The Rainbow Fish // Dazzle The Dinosaur

Had a heated debate with someone re: the thematic underpinnings of The Rainbow Fish that had my head rolling. Let me tell you, an english degree doesn’t prepare you for that. Anyway, it made me go reread The Rainbow Fish (in order to cite my sources) and the lesser known Dazzle because I loved that book as a kid. Book Shiny Is Good sure was the mentality and I stand by it. They’re dang pretty. I am not open to reopening this debate so for the love of fucking everything please don’t message me about it.

The Moccasins

Another Canadian picture book, this time by a Ktunaxa First Nation author about an aboriginal boy who grows up in foster care. It’s a cute book and has a very sweet message, though it was a little underwhelming. I was fairly meh about the art, which is always a downer for me when it comes to picture books. (which is honestly too bad because I like this illustrator, she’s a Cree Métis artist who did My Heart Fills With Happiness and When We Were Alone which are both gorgeous??)

Bloom County: ‘Toons For Our Times

Another comic reread, except that this time it hadn’t been years since I last read it -- I regularly reread this series. We always had tons of comic anthologies at home growing up, and Bloom Country was one of my first exposures to political and social satire. It’s definitely dated at times, and frankly offensive at other times, but I still adore it and it can be incredibly on point, even forty years later. The art is also delightful, the characters are so off the wall and fun, and the constant underlining longing for nature and simplicity and kindness really resonates, especially now.

Calvin and Hobbes: Something Under The Bed Is Drooling // Yukon Ho!

More comics. Never the wrong time to read Calvin and Hobbes. Wholesome feel-good-ness.

Babe The Gallant Pig

I’ve always meant to red Babe and decided now was finally the time. It was delightful! Definitely has Charlotte’s Web vibes, except this time it’s about a piglet who ends up getting adopted by a sheep dog who is determined to teach her unexpected adopted son how to be a proper sheep dog, even if that sheep dog is more of a sheep pig. And Babe manages to blow everyone’s expectations out of the water by his unrelenting gentleness and compassion. So goddamn cute. Only thing that kills me is that they refer to the female dog, not incorrectly, as a “bitch” which makes it a conundrum about giving it to kids to read.

Bread And Jam For Frances

I’d forgotten all about the Frances the Badger books until now! I was so excited to see one again! These books just hit hard in the nostalgia. Very traditional of a children’s book, it feels similar to old-school Berenstain Bears. It has a simple, clear cut message for children that still holds true. It’s really nothing special (the story is pretty simple and the art is mostly duotone) unless you also have warm feelings form your childhood about this series.

Hugh Pine

A chapter book about an unusually large, unusually smart porcupine who realizes that if he wears a bright red hat he found, then drivers on the road are more likely to see him and less likely to hit him. So he teaches himself to stand on his hind legs and wave at the drivers, and is quickly mistaken as a small, old man. The other porcupines, not as smart as Hugh and very much in danger of the cars when they try to cross the road, soon form a committee and come to Hugh for help in keeping the rest of them safe. Absolutely ridiculous and Hugh is a miserable curmudgeon who wants to be left alone, so obviously I align with it.

[ladysalvaterre-blog]

a walk on the wildeside

chapter 6

A sharp double knock on my door awakened me and I immediately knew who was at my door. At the same moment, I wondered why exactly my grandmother Eleanora Kennedy Garrison had decided to grace me with her presence. I quickly shot up, ran my fingers through my hair in an attempt to groom it, and then moved to the door to face my formidable grandmother.

“Grandmother.” I say with a smile as I open the door.

“Addison Kennedy, acting sloth-like is highly uncouth for a woman of your age. You should be up with the sun to make the most of your day.” My grandmother says, floating into my room to perch herself on my reading chair.

“Yes Grandmother.” I mutter under my breath.

I close the door to see her arch a perfectly groomed eyebrow in my direction.

“Nothing Grandmother.” I say.

“Well then, what is this I’ve heard from your sister about a falling out with your father’s friend’s son?” That’s my grandmother, short and sweet and to the point.

“He crossed a line that he shouldn’t have, and that’s that.” I said quickly, really hoping to avoid a Grandmother Inquisition.

“Then what’s this I hear about you fighting with his mother. I mean, Georgians can be highly uncouth at times, take your father for instance, but a lady never snaps at an elder.”

I hold back on reciting the fact that her grandmother by marriage, my first namesake, was from North Carolina. Then I do exactly the opposite of what I should have done. I snap at my grandmother.

“Well Grandmother, I think and exception can be made in this case where the elder was trying to replace my irreplaceable mother!”

“Young lady, what has gotten into you? I will admit, I do not think highly of your father, but he would never replace Helen. Frankly, I would have him thrown out on his rear if he ever attempted such a thing. Nevertheless, it seems in the years you’ve been away from home, your manners have deteriorated. Where’s this husband of yours? Why isn’t he here keeping your Georgian genes in line?” Grandmother asked.

“He isn’t here, Grandmother, because we are getting a divorce. He seems to think that I serve a better purpose sitting pretty in New York City rather than seeing my family here.”

“Ah, I see. The Beausejours are a respectable family but they have always been greedy for fame. No wonder that boy married you, your mother does come from one of the most respectable families on the East Coast. Nonetheless, this does not excuse your recent behavior. I may be old, but my brain still functions perfectly. Now, Addison Kennedy, what has happened between you and the mother-replacer’s son?”

I sigh in defeat, there is no getting out of this one.

“He confronted me over an issue from six years ago that was never resolved.” I said quietly.

My grandmother let out a barely audible gasp. “Dearest Addison, please tell me that this issue did not happen after your mother died.”

“I’m afraid I cannot Grandmother. In fact, it was a mere two weeks after she died, at graduation.” I told her, upping my usual vocabulary to her level.

“What happened my dear?” Grandmother asked, composing herself.

I steeled myself for the flood of painful memories about to inundate my brain.

--

I walked up to the podium in my blue graduation cap and gown to give my valedictorian speech. I looked out in the crowd to the three people who I wanted to see. I saw a thumbs up from Ellie, still wearing all black. Personally I would rather be in all black too, but I was lucky that my school’s graduation gowns were a dark blue. I looked to Lucas, and saw a big smile on his face. Then I looked to Dad, for whom it was surprising to be out of the house after two weeks. He still had on a dark suit but he smiled a weak smile to ease my conscience. Then the woman sitting next to him caught my eye, she was giving him an evil side eye. Then I saw a man sitting behind my dad, boring holes into the back of his head with his eyes.  I lifted my eyes to scan the crowd and saw so many people judging Dad. Tears pricked the back of my eyes, and I began my speech, since edited since the death of my mother.

--

After we all graduated, finally free of high school and childhood, I went to my dad and hugged him tight, afraid after these two weeks he’d float away. Ellie came up behind me and sandwiched me between herself and Dad. Very glad I had worn waterproof mascara that morning, I started crying.

“Your mom would have been so proud Adds. She was even planning to give you this.” My dad told me, pulling a box out of his jacket pocket. I recognized that box from when my mother would get ready for big parties when I was little, always letting me hold the box if I pinky promised to be super careful.

“You probably already know this, but these are your great-great-grandmother Mary Addison’s pearls, which she brought with her from South Carolina when she married your great-great-grandfather. Your mom said from the moment you were born that she wanted you to have this necklace. She always thought you’d look so beautiful in it.”

Even though it was small, I saw a small tear trickle down my father’s face, probably from remembering her telling him about that.

He held out the blue velvet box to me. I extended my hands to carefully take the box from him, then I gingerly opened it. There, nestled in a little bed of silk, was my namesake’s prized possession. A thin strand of Chinese river pearls, owned by her adventurous older sister, who traveled to Asia in the late eighteenth century. My mother had always told me the story of my namesake and her precious pearls. The reason they were so special was not because how rare and special they were, but because that was the one thing her parents let her have to remind her of her sister after Sarah Elizabeth (the older sister) died in childbirth. Mary Addison was closer with Sarah Elizabeth than she was with any other of her ten siblings. If Mary Addison had to have one possession of her older sister’s, it was those pearls. They had been passed down to the next female in the line of Garrisons. When Mary Addison’s son, David, married Helena Isaacson, they were her something old for her wedding. When Helena’s son married my grandmother Eleanora Gilles, Helena gave her the pearls as her something old. When my mother married my father, my grandmother gave her the pearls as her something old.

But the next thing my father told me shook me so deeply, I couldn’t remember any of the history behind the pearls.

“She wanted to give you these early because, being a mother, she already knew it was only a matter of time before you got married. She even said she knew exactly who you’d marry.”

My throat went dry and my stomach flipped. She thought I was going to marry Lucas?

“Will you put them on?” My dad asked quietly. “You already look so much like her, I just want to see you in something so important to her.”

I nodded, swept my hair up in one hand, then turned around. My father tenderly clasped the three hundred year old Garrison (technically Shelton) pearls around my neck, and I felt like I was choking on all the expectations of my heritage.

I gave my father a quick hug and left to find Lucas.

I walked around the gym, then saw Lucas getting a hug from his mom. He turned to see me, then smiled broadly. At that sight, my stomach sunk lower, and I couldn’t swallow with the pearls hanging around my neck like chains. I slowly walk towards him, all the thoughts of my family swirling in my overwhelmed brain.

He goes to give me a hug but I hold out my hand, stopping him.

“What’s wrong Adds?” He asked, clearly surprised I refused one of his hugs, which I never do.

“Goodbye, Lucas.” I say shakily before turning on my heel and walking away.

I can already feel my heart and brain start to clash, I want to ease my father’s pain, but then again I want Lucas, and I’ve always wanted Lucas. Then I think about how sad my father looked behind his pitiful smile during my speech. My thoughts moved to a guy my grandmother had mentioned a couple of time, Andrew Beausejour. His dad Ferdinand is a big wig lawyer who spends most of his time between NYC and Saratoga Springs. My grandfather almost married Ferdinand’s sister Alba. Andrew came from a good family, it’d be a socially advantageous match. I let my eyes skim around the room to find Andrew, looking sharp in his custom Tom Ford suit, hugging his mother Maria. They would help Dad’s status, me making the match my mother didn’t. I might just have to look into that.

--

The tears I had fought to hold back flooded down my face, trailing the first few that slipped out.

“Addison dear, please don’t cry.” My grandmother said, surprisingly quick to comfort me despite her age. She wrapped her arms around me in the same hug my mother used to give me.  “Everything will be alright darling. He’ll realize how sorry you are and come back, good as new.”

“But Grandmother, he won’t,” I sobbed. “I tried to avoid the question and that made him angry so he snapped, then I snapped, and then when I said maybe I wanted a change, he told me maybe I should go to Georgia and die like mom.”

I felt my grandmother’s spine steel, ever the protective mother of her only daughter.

“That boy has crossed the line.” Grandmother said, her voice so cold it could rival the Arctic Circle.

“Grandmother I miss him! I miss his hugs, I miss his smile, and I miss him being there for me whenever I needed him! Why was I so stupid?” I sob.

“Addison Kennedy Porter, look at me.” She says sternly. I tilt my head from my position to look at her. “You are not stupid. You were young and dealing with the loss of your mother. Your father was suffering greatly and you wanted to ease his pain at whatever the cost. You made a mistake. You have admitted that. Today some words that cannot be taken back have been said, but that is what happens when people who love each other clash. There are bound to be wounds inflicted. Quite frankly, I saw worse fights between your father and mother. When those two fought, it was like World War III, but that was because they were so close. Addison, please do not let childhood mistakes and words said in anger separate you two. I will admit, I am not a fan of this Lucas Wilde because of what he has said, but from what your sister tells me, he loves you very much and never wishes to hurt you intentionally in his right mind. Your return to Saratoga Springs has brought back all of those feelings of pain from your high school graduation. He’ll come around and realize the error of his way, believe me Addison, he will.”

My sobs eventually subsided, but I was still in awe. My grandmother was not all the stuck up snob I had believed her to be.

“I love you Grandmother.” I whispered as I leaned into her again.

“I love you too Addison Kennedy.” She said to me, wrapping her arms around me. I felt proud to bear this woman’s middle name.

Then I made a decision that could mess me up big time. I decided to go find Lucas.

[the-jade-goblin]

Interview your OC

Answer the questions as if you were your OC in an interview

1. WHAT IS YOUR NAME?

“Hawke.”

2. WHAT IS YOUR REAL NAME? 

“Marianne Hawke. My siblings call me – uh…called me – Mari.” 

3. DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU WERE CALLED THAT? 

“It’s a good strong Fereldan name. Father’s mother was called Marianne, I don’t think he knew much about her other than that – he spent his whole life in the Circle you see, never met her himself. She was a good mage so I hear, it made sense to name me after her.” 

4. ARE YOU SINGLE OR TAKEN?

“I am taken.”

5. HAVE ANY ABILITIES OR POWERS?

“I’ve been an apostate my whole life so I’d definitely put survival in that list (laughs) but seriously, I’m a mage by birth, elemental magic is my strongest magic, but I have an affinity for Spirit Healing as well.”

6. STOP BEING A MARY SUE/GARY STU. 

“Oh honey, you don’t know the meaning of the word.” 

7. WHAT’S YOUR EYE COLOR?

“Blue! Like the rest of my family.”

8. HOW ABOUT YOUR HAIR COLOR?

“Blacker than night as Varric says”

9. HAVE YOU ANY FAMILY MEMBERS?

“I did. A long time ago…my father died of an illness before the Blight began, my little sister Bethany was killed by an ogre when we tried to escape Lothering. My baby brother Carver he…he died of the Blight in the Deep Roads. And my mother, she…she was killed by a blood mage. I uh…I don’t really want to talk more about that, if you don’t mind.”

10. OH? WHAT ABOUT PETS?

“My mabari Goofus is always with me. I know, Goofus right? But I lost a bet with Carver so Goofus it was (laughs)”

11. THAT’S COOL I GUESS, NOW TELL ME ABOUT SOMETHING YOU DON’T LIKE. 

“Something I don’t like? That’s easy. Fucking Templars. And the Chantry. Oh and Qunari, and most of Tevinter, oh and also stupid nobles, and Antivan Crows apart from that one I met in Kirkwall, oh and what know what else I don’t like –?” 

12. DO YOU HAVE ANY HOBBIES/ACTIVITIES YOU LIKE DOING?

“I love to grow plants, I have a garden full of them at my manor in Kirkwall. Well I mean I did, before I had to leave. But I’m sure Varric’s safekeeping it for me while I’m gone. Other than that I like to read, ooh I like hiking too, Fereldans love the outdoors.”

13. EVER HURT ANYONE BEFORE?

“(snort) yah. Like, a lot.”

14. EVER….KILLED ANYONE BEFORE? 

“At this point, who haven’t I killed? No that I go looking for people to kill, I just sort get dragged into these situations. Sometimes literally.” 

15. WHAT KIND OF ANIMAL ARE YOU?

“A Hawke silly! (laughs)”

16. NAME YOUR WORST HABITS. 

“I guess the fact that I joke at the worst possible times. It’s more of a reflex really, a uh…coping mechanism I guess you could call it. But it does get me in a lot of trouble at times.” 

17. DO YOU LOOK UP TO ANYONE AT ALL?

“I look up to my father, he was a great man. I strive to be as brave, strong and selfless as he was. I can only hope I’ve made him proud, wherever he is now.”

18. GAY, STRAIGHT, OR BISEXUAL?

“Bisexual. Everyone is hot.”

19. DO YOU GO TO SCHOOL?

“No, my mother taught us spelling and maths, that kind of thing, and my father taught me and Bethany magic. I’ve never had Circle training and frankly I don’t want to.”

20. DO YOU EVER WANT TO MARRY AND HAVE KIDS ONE DAY? 

“Yes. Yes very much so. Fenris…well, I worry sometimes, about bringing up such things, but I would love to get married. I’d love to have a beautiful little girl too, with Fen’s eyes, and a little boy that reminds me of Carver…I really can’t wait to have kids.” 

21. DO YOU HAVE ANY FANBOYS/FANGIRLS?

“(snorting laughter) fuck yeah, I used to get mobbed every other day by people wanting to hear stories or for me to sign whatever they were throwing my way. I stopped going out during the day much when I became the Champion. Varric’s ridiculous tales didn’t help none either.”

22. WHAT ARE YOU MOST AFRAID OF?

“Losing people I love, but that’s already happened so many times I don’t think I can even bring myself to worry about it anymore. It almost seems inevitable, like I’m cursed. But being alone, definitely being left alone.”

23. WHAT DO YOU USUALLY WEAR?

“My father’s mantle if it’s a casual outing, it’s made from scrap metal and re-arranged pieces of a Chantry robe. He wore it when he fled the Circle and I wear it to remind myself of his legacy. For battle, usually my Champion’s mantle I think Varric called it. It’s damn impressive for something I literally found over the years – the last piece I found from the High Dragon I killed. Around the home, usually a soft robe and long pants.”

24. DO YOU LOVE SOMEONE?

“I have a lot of love to give, even if it’s hard to get from me sometimes. I love my dear friends back in Kirkwall, especially Varric, and of course I love my darling Fenris to absolute pieces. I even love Anders still, strange as that may sound considering where our friendship ended up, but there it is.”

25. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WET YOURSELF?

“Strange question, but not the strangest I’ve ever gotten (laughs) I laughed way too hard at one of our weekly Wicked Grace games and peed my pants, I was drunk so it was bound to happen.”

26. WELL, IT’S NOT OVER YET!

“Okay bring it on!”

27. WHAT CLASS ARE YOU? (HIGH CLASS, MIDDLE CLASS, LOW CLASS) 

“I grew up in lower class. Very lower class. When I came to Kirkwall we were worse than lower class, we were refugees, penniless and nobodies. After the expedition, I moved to the high class. Honestly it…was very strange. I never fit in, I preferred staying in Lowtown with my ‘lower class’ friends. It’s always more genuine down the bottom. Nowadays I guess I’m lower middle class, we live well, not too poorly, not too wealthy. Fen seems happy.” 

28. HOW MANY FRIENDS DO YOU HAVE? 

“Hold on lemme count *counting on fingers* Varric, Isabela, Merrill, Anders, Sebastian, Fenris, Aveline, Zevran, my cousin Charity, so 9 in total. Although I don’t think Sebastian would like me calling him my friend anymore we uh, we didn’t leave each other’s company in the best of positions.” 

29. WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON PIE?

“I mean any pie is good pie if I’m not the one paying for it.”

30. FAVOURITE DRINK? 

“The rat-flavoured whiskey in the Hanged Man. (laughs) I’m serious! It’s swill, but it brings back many fond memories of my idiot friends spent on some good evenings in that place. Also Agreggo Pavali, Fenris and I have always shared a bottle during some of the more monumental moments in our relationship, so the drink holds a special place in my heart. 

My favourite drink based on taste would be this nice berry-tasting wine we had in Orlais at Chateu Haine. I don’t remember the vintage but it was wonderful, tasted of dismay, or whatever that garbage Orlesians say.” 

31. WHAT’S YOUR FAVOURITE PLACE?

“I’d say the Hanged Man, I always felt the most at home there with the peasants of Lowtown and surrounded by my friends. Other than that there’s a spot on the Wounded Coast that wouldn’t often see bandits that we’d all go sometimes to swim and relax.”

32. ARE YOU INTERESTED IN SOMEONE~ 

“Well it would be odd if I wasn’t interested in the love of my life wouldn’t it? (giggles) he’s going all red now. Cute.” 

33. WHAT’S YOUR BRA CUP SIZE AND/OR HOW BIG IS YOUR WILLY?

“You know I don’t actually know, I wear a breast band so it doesn’t really have cups. Bigger than Merrill, smaller than Isabela, that’s all I can say really. Still annoyed at Isabela’s prime rack to be honest, forever jealous of that.”

34. WOULD YOU RATHER SWIM IN THE LAKE OR THE OCEAN?

“Well I’ve done both in my lifetime, and I think I prefer the ocean. It’s far more wild than a lake, and I like the salty taste.”

35. WHAT’S YOUR TYPE?

“Well looking back at my previous relationships and crushes over the years, clearly I go for the tall, dark, handsome and brooding type. (sighs) Maker I’m so cliché aren’t I?”

36. ANY FETISHES? 

“(shrugs) not really.” 

37. SEME OR UKE? TOP OR BOTTOM? DOMINANT OR SUBMISSIVE?

“Well firstly the whole ‘seme’ and ‘uke’ archetype is just…yikes so I’m not even gonna answer that. So is top or bottom if I’m being frank, why can’t people be both? As for the last one, hmm…neither? Fen and I are very vanilla in bed, much to Isabela’s constant disappointment, and I in particular care most about my partner’s comfort in bed.”

38. CAMPING OR INDOORS? 

“I do love a good luxury mattress, but the outdoors was where I was raised. I belong there in the dirt (laughs) I’m so Fereldan.” 

39. ARE YOU WANTING THE QUIZ TO END?

“Aw, is it over? Too bad I never get tired of talking about me (laughs) I’m kidding.” 

[azvolrien]

A Long Walk in Winter - Epilogue

And a brief account of what happened after.

---

           It was a few weeks before Asta received a reply to her letter. Dun Ardech was too remote to get any post, too far not just from the nearest settlement but the nearest proper road, but the post office in Auchtertan had set up a box where they could collect any deliveries.

           “Well, it has a Stormhaven postmark,” said Asta as she rejoined Roan in the town square. “But the address isn’t in Calburn’s handwriting.”

           Roan laced her fingers and stretched both arms out in front of her, then folded them and leant back against the mercat stone. The healer in Auchtertan – a rather dour woman, though not without a certain dark humour and gruff compassion – did not have enough raw magical power to fully heal Roan’s injuries in one go as some of the healers Asta had met in Stormhaven could have, but she had decades of practice at her fingertips and had been able to spur the healing process along enough that Roan was as good as new in half the time it would otherwise have taken her. She had no particular skill in problems of the mind, but she had been able to give Asta a list of healers who did, and after a few false starts she had started seeing one who worked out of a village a few miles further up the coast towards Duncraig.

           “He must’ve thought someone else was better suited to answer you,” said Roan.

           Asta nodded and sat down on the steps around the base of the mercat stone. Calburn had a tendency to throw words down on the page, making for a loose, slapdash sort of writing, but the envelope was addressed in a far more careful hand, each letter small and angular compared to Calburn’s looping scrawl. There was something familiar about it, but Asta couldn’t quite put her finger on what until she slit the envelope open and pulled out the letter.

           Calburn had included a small note: Good to hear from you, and glad you’re doing all right up there! We’re all fine back in Stormhaven, though we’ve had some adventures of our own. Me and Rhona did some work out on the Hawk Steppes that got pretty dramatic, and Wygar and Fayn have a baby now! Turns out Fayn had a good reason for looking peaky last winter. Her name’s Una, her birthday’s just a few days after yours, and she’s Very Cute. These two words had been underlined three times for additional emphasis. We’ll have to meet up if you’re ever back here, or if I’m ever up north, and we can have a proper catch-up and you can introduce me to your Roan. I miss our coffees.

           “I didn’t have you down as a coffee-drinker,” said Roan once she had caught up to that point.

           “He’s using it as a shorthand,” said Asta. “He drank coffee; I had tea.”

           “Gotcha.”

           I’ve had a chat with the others and we’ve agreed what you saw is definitely Construct Stuff, but for once I’m not the best one to ask about it, so I’ll let Wy take it from here.

           Love, Calburn

           (p.s. Ari sends her love too)

           The rest was on a separate sheet of paper, written in the same angular hand as the address. Asta quietly read it aloud for Roan’s benefit.

           Dear Asta,

           I have to admit, I was a bit surprised when Cal asked me to write to you. I know you and I were never on bad terms (at least, I hope we weren’t), but we never really socialised often. You were always more his friend and Fayn’s than mine. Fayn’s handwriting, legible but more haphazard than her husband’s, interjected a ‘hello!’ here. But then he explained why, and yes – Fayn and I are probably the only two people outside the Northern Forest who understand what you met (I say ‘what’ rather than ‘who’ because Keith and I were never introduced, and I can say nothing of his personal background), and Fayn has delegated the writing to me. Rest assured she is contributing on the composition side.

           You may remember that I told you we had been in the Northern Forest the winter before last; I believe my words describing it were ‘quite an experience’. The story is far too long to relate in full here without using up my entire stock of paper, but I will attempt to summarise it as well as I can. There had been a spate of disappearances in and around the Forest that autumn, and the local landowner (who wishes to remain anonymous) contacted the College asking Stormlord Halleth to send someone to investigate.

           “Anonymous local landowner, hah,” said Asta. “Like anyone born to a noble house doesn’t know the Northern Forest is part of the Emperor’s personal estate.”

           “The Emperor asked for help from Stormhaven?” said Roan.

           “Well, he would’ve still been the Crown Prince at that point. The land is his, specifically, not the Crown’s, so he could use the legal fiction that he was asking as a private citizen rather than on behalf of the Empire. No wonder he doesn’t want that widely-known, though.”

           The letter continued.

           We travelled to the Forest and, after falling afoul of one of the creatures ourselves, began working with the elfin clans that call it home. Eventually we were able to determine that a rogue wizard had found a way to control the spirits of the forest (yes, I was sceptical too, but I assure you they exist) and was using them to kidnap both elves from within the Forest and humans from beyond it, bring them to a workshop he had built in a long-abandoned Legion watchtower, and, through a terrifying bastardisation of construct growth that frankly still gives me nightmares, transform them into the aurochs/wolf/bear creatures he had taken to calling ‘flaskborn’. I won’t horrify you with the precise details, but suffice to say we were able to stop him, free his victims from his control, and destroy his workshop to ensure that his techniques were lost. At this point Fayn had scribbled another note: (Wygar set him on fire.) Asta and Roan just looked at each other at this addition and kept reading.

           The elves who had been captured and transformed returned to their clans within the Forest, but the humans disappeared into the Dragon’s Teeth one night and were never seen again. Unfortunately, with our current knowledge of magic there is no way to change their bodies back to the way they should be, and my understanding is that they feared they would be condemned to fight in the arenas if they returned to their homes outside the Forest.

           “They were probably right,” said Asta. “The Grand Arena’s beast-handlers would pay a fortune for something like Keith.”

           I have always wondered what became of them after that, and I’m glad to learn that at least one of them is still out there. I don’t know if he’ll ever show himself again, but if you do see him, tell him we’re still thinking of him.

           Everyone here is still thinking of you as well, and Fayn says that Cal’s offer of a meetup stands from her too. I can also confirm his statement that Una is very cute.

           With love,

           Wygar and Fayn

           “Huh,” said Roan. “Mystery solved, then.”

           “Those two seem to lead a very adventurous life,” said Asta. “I hope things calm down for them now that they have a baby to look after.” She stood up from her seat on the steps and brushed the grit off the back of her skirt. “Did you get everything else we need from here?” she asked, folding the letter and stowing it inside her coat. Roan nodded and held up her shopping bag. “Good – we can start heading home.” Asta took Pardus’s summoning stone from her pocket and held it up for the construct to materialise.

           “Are you going to write an answer?” asked Roan, nodding towards the letter.

           “You know, I haven’t decided,” said Asta. “I feel like I ought to, but I need to think of something more to say than ‘Thank you for your answer, but gods, that’s awful’, and that won’t be the work of a few minutes.” She paused, rubbing her chin as she watched Pardus solidify. “Although, the horrible thing – one of several horrible things – is that… Extrapolating from a few different theories I’ve read… I’m pretty sure I know how it was done.”

           “D’you plan on trying?”

           “Gods, no! I’m not even going to share my suspicions. Here, can you give me a leg up?”

           “Well, then.” Roan slung her shopping bag over one shoulder, caught Asta by her hips, and lifted her onto Pardus’s back. “All I take from your conclusion is that you were brilliant enough to reach it.”

           Asta blushed, smiling, and looked down at her hands as Roan climbed up behind her. “I suppose that is another way of looking at it, yes.” She flicked the reins and spurred Pardus into a brisk lope out of the town square and along the lochside road. “Remind me to check my books when we get home. I think I may have a better way of keeping pests out of the chicken feed.”

           Roan wound her arms around Asta’s waist and held on tightly all the way back to Dun Ardech.

---

Roan does give great hugs. Asta does not generally like having her back touched - except by Roan. She’s allowed.

Random trivia: what I pictured as the Auchtertan mercat stone is the Maiden Stone in Aberdeenshire. Their version will have a different design on the cross side, though. Probably a sword or something.

[allenmendezsr]

The Red Wine Diet

New Post has been published on http://autotraffixpro.app/allenmendezsr/the-red-wine-diet/

The Red Wine Diet

 Buy Now

    THE RED WINE DIETslicedigital2019-04-29T20:02:48+00:00

Dear Wine Lover;

I’m about to tell you the story of how one twist of fate during a vacation completely turned my lifelong beliefs–and my career–upside down…

And how I discovered that a large portion of the science we thought we knew about weight loss is just plain false…

I’ll admit…It was a “WOW” moment that changed my life…and could quite possibly change yours.

The old-school thinking goes like this:

Drinking alcohol is bad for you…

It makes you gain weight…

It gives you the dreaded “beer belly.”

Well, it turns out they’re WRONG.

By the time you’re finished reading this, you’ll see that it REALLY works like this:

If you combine a glass of red wine with some of your favorite foods, in this very specific way, you shift your metabolism into hyperdrive!

It’s important you get the full story about how one “off-the-wall” observation I made during a West Coast vacation will change how you look at alcohol and weight loss forever…

This quirk of science–which on the surface is a complete contradiction to what we’ve all been told, has been right under our noses for decades…even centuries.

I’m a Certified Strength & Conditioning Specialist and Certified Nutritionist, hired to help people lose body fat.  

Period.

I have been in the fitness industry for roughly 30 years.  And for the last decade, I’ve keep detailed records of how much weight my clients have lost.

At last count, my clients have lost over 5000 pounds of body fat!* 

That’s two and a half TONS of ugly fat.

*NOTE:  This is fully documented through my in-house Biometric Tracking software.

Frankly, if you lived anywhere near my facility north of Boston, I’m the guy you went to when you absolutely needed to lose weight…kinda like a “hired gun of weight loss”, if you will.

I only mention it to highlight an important point…

I’m a Certified Strength & Conditioning Specialist and Certified Nutritionist, hired to help people lose body fat.  

Period.

I have been in the fitness industry for roughly 30 years.  And for the last decade, I’ve keep detailed records of how much weight my clients have lost.

At last count, my clients have lost over 5000 pounds of body fat!* 

That’s two and a half TONS of ugly fat.

*NOTE:  This is fully documented through my in-house Biometric Tracking software.

Frankly, if you lived anywhere near my facility north of Boston, I’m the guy you went to when you absolutely needed to lose weight…kinda like a “hired gun of weight loss”, if you will.

I only mention it to highlight an important point…

Do you think all of my successful clients STOPPED drinking wine while they lost all that weight?

Of course not!

In fact, many of my clients started drinking a little more wine…(not to excess, of course!)

But…now I have a bit of a confession to make…

At first, I had no explanation of why they were losing this weight so easily (of course, I could take some of the credit, but I knew inside there was more to it).

Not that long ago, I was one of those trainers who was telling my clients that they had to stop drinking alcohol if they wanted to lose weight.

The thing is… many of them had no intention of giving up their favorite glass of red wine…yet time and time again, they still lost weight!

And even though I never fully understood the reasons behind their fat loss success, I thought…

“Hey, if they’re happy, I’m happy!”

But all the while, something kept gnawing at me.  I just knew there was more to the story…

After all, 5000 pounds of fat loss doesn’t just happen by accident!

My personal revelation, and how it triggered the journey that changed everything!

I was on vacation visiting friends in California I hadn’t seen in at least 15 years.  

I was really looking forward to getting together with them again…

And as I figured we would…we had a great time.

Now, this is a really fun crowd, and as expected, the wine was flowing freely.

The weather was ideal and Northern California looked as beautiful as I remembered…

I’d lived in California for a while in the 80’s and early 90’s when I was competing at a world-class level in the shot put and discus.

Back then we throwers all had one dream in common…

To throw as far as we could…and if everything fell into place at the right time, earn a spot on the US Olympic Team.

Staying ‘fit and lean’ was not our concern.  Our dream required us to get as big and powerful as possible.

But that was then….and, as  life goes on, our priorities change.

These days–with all of us in our 50’s or older–most of us pay close attention to our health and nutrition.

(In fact, I have made it the focus of my career.)

Anyway…

After back-to-back days of socializing with old friends, lots and lots of good food – and plenty of wine – it was time to head back East.

And this is  where things took a strange turn…

When I got home, I couldn’t help but notice something…

My pants fit a little looser than normal, and I could feel something was different.

I stepped on the scale expecting bad news from a week of eating and drinking way more than usual; but, instead of gaining weight, something really bizarre happened…

I actually lost about 5 pounds over the course of 4-5 days!

On top of that, I didn’t even notice the weight loss happening…

The weight was just gone.

And, I’ll admit to one thing for sure…

It was certainly not for a lack of calories!

I overindulged a LOT during this trip.  Eating plenty of food and–yes– getting a little “buzzed” on a pretty regular basis.

That’s exactly why none of this made any sense.

As a fitness pro, this was just weird…

I mean, I’d been doing the weight loss thing for over 25 years, and was at a total loss as to what was happening.

I was experiencing first-hand the exact same effect I saw in my other weight loss clients for years.

And I was more than a little intrigued.

Something unusual was going on here, and that’s when the professional side of me took over.  I could no longer sit back and take credit for something I didn’t fully understand.

So I sat down, grabbed a pen and paper and did something that I ask of all my clients to do…

I wrote up a complete ‘food recall’ of everything I ate over the course of my trip.

Every meal.  Every snack. All of it…

I even tracked how much red wine I drank…admittedly that was a little tougher…(hey, don’t judge me)!

As I looked at my food log, an unusual pattern started to emerge…

As the guest, of course, I was eating whatever food I was served, and since my friends could be considered “foodies”, the menu had a lot of things on it I didn’t normally eat.

Apparently, the change in my menu was the trigger.

And there it was, right there on the paper…staring me in the face.

A food-wine combination that burned fat like gasoline!

It turns out, I had accidently stumbled onto something science had just recently proven in the lab.

A newly discovered process that turned “traditional” weight loss assumptions upside down!

Because of my eye-opening vacation experience – and my geeky love for research – I dove in and quickly became an expert on alcohol and its powerful connection to weight loss.

I soon realized that a lot of the warnings about alcohol and red wine just didn’t hold up. 

As you may have already heard, not all alcohol is created equal.

Red wine is actually one of the healthiest types there is.

Studies on red wine have been popping up in the media for a long time now.  You may have seen some of them…

Here is summary of an expert opinion from the Mayo Clinic.2

The alcohol in red wine can…

Help prevent artery damage caused by high levels of low-density lipoprotein (LDL) cholesterol, the “bad” cholesterol

Produce positive changes in blood pressure

Raise high-density lipoprotein (HDL) cholesterol, the “good” cholesterol

Reduce the formation of blood clots

In fact, there was some great news for women specifically!

“A study of more than 19,000 middle-aged women from the Archives of Internal Medicine found that women who drink a moderate amount of alcohol, such as a glass of red wine a day, are less likely to become overweight or obese than women who don’t drink.”

Here’s another one…

“Scientists followed nearly 16,000 middle-aged women in a seven-year study for the Women’s Health Initiative found that women who drink moderately are more likely to maintain a healthy weight than non-drinkers.”

However all of this good news comes with one important warning:

If you make a common mistake and combine your wine with the wrong types of food, most if not all of these health benefits can be lost!

You’ll shut down your fat burning machinery completely!

It all started with research being done at the Washington State University and Harvard Medical School.  

Professor Min Du’s work at Washington State verified the existence of a previously unknown fat burning process in humans.

And it even has a name:  “The Fat Conversion Pathway”

Let me explain…

Without diving into the details too deeply, here’s how it works:

Dr. Wu and other researchers discovered there’s a powerful enzyme with the sole function to trigger the conversion of stored fat into energy.

The problem is (and the reason you haven’t lost weight with wine before) there are toxins common in most diets that makes it impossible for this enzyme to do its job…

This enzyme (called AMPK for short)–when activated–ramps up your metabolism and melts fat off your stomach, arms, and thighs faster than nearly any other nutrient out there.

The problem is these toxins inactivate this enzyme.  Now, I’ll give you one guess where this “fat-converting” enzyme can be found…

Yup.  Red Wine.

Right away, I’ll bet there’s one question in your head you’re just dying to ask…

Can I really drink wine AND lose weight?

The short answer?  

Yes. Absolutely!

In fact, I now believe that drinking wine is exactly what you SHOULD be doing to lead a healthier life, while you get rid of those unwanted pounds…

…even if you drank wine in the past and actually GAINED weight!

…even if you’ve tried all those MISERABLE fad diets…

…even if you DESPISE working out.

Because today, you’ll discover how to lose weight

...without giving up your favorite glass of wine…

…without spending hours at the gym…

…and without weeks or months of deprivation spent trying to get that body you’ve been longing for.

Believe me, as a wine-drinker myself, I’d be skeptical too…but since I’ve pulled all the pieces together and witnessed this approach work soooo many times, there’s just no denying it!

In fact…

My newly discovered approach has helped my clients collectively lose more than 5000 POUNDS total!

And I’ve pinpointed a simple food-wine combination that reignites AMPK, and turns on a fat-burning pathway inside your body that’s so powerful…

You could lose 15 pounds in just 60 days

Keep in mind, like so many fitness experts,  I’d sworn off alcohol for both myself and my clients whenever weight loss was the goal.

But, because of this new discovery, now you don’t have to choose between enjoying your favorite wines and losing weight.

You can have both.

Listen, if you’re over 45 like me (OK, so I’m actually over 55)

You’re not looking to get ‘ripped’…

You don’t have illusions of being a fitness model…

You’re not training for a bodybuilding competition…

This may sound weird coming from a fitness business owner and former All-American athlete, but the reality is –

It is NOT my mission in life to see how shredded I can get my abs.

The majority of us simply want to…

feel better…

move better, with fewer aches and pains…

have plenty of energy throughout the day…

maintain a clear mind…

keep stress levels in check…

enjoy life with family and friends…

and yes, lose weight and look good while doing it!

I suspect most of you would agree, these are not outrageous goals.

Can you imagine what your life would be like if these simple desires fell into place?

No longer carrying around that extra 10, 15, 20 or more pounds…

No more waking up with aching and painful joints…

Walking through your day with a surge of additional energy, without that jiggly fat slowing you down…

Noticing your endurance levels suddenly skyrocket…

Stepping on the scale every morning and seeing the numbers drop lower and lower…

Breaking out in a big grin when your clothes start to fit the way they’re supposed to…

Feeling a renewed confidence as you make your way through the day.

Realizing your stress levels are plummeting…

And even starting to turn heads like you did years ago…

But, all the while, never giving up one minute of your valuable social life.

This is all possible with this newly discovered approach.

In fact, putting this process into place involves nothing more than “tweaking” the things you ALREADY do!

Here’s why this matters to you…

I had finally figured out the one simple factor that can make the difference between weight-loss success or failure for the average wine drinker…

Now, I can finally explain how you could be sabotaging your own weight loss, without even realizing it, by rendering your own “fat-converting pathway” inactive!

When you take red wine and combine it with this simple food trick you push your own metabolism into  overdrive – by re-activating AMPK!

In fact, it turns out that drinking red wine may actually be the ‘missing link’ to your weight loss goals.

I realize this is completely contradictory to what every fitness expert in the industry may tell you, but research has verified it!

Losing body fat does NOT have to involve weeks and months of starvation and stress.

Just as I had proved it to myself over the course of a few short days in California…

I don’t mind telling you that once I figured out that AMPK was the weight loss explanation I was after…

I was ecstatic!

…And it’s something so simple, ANYONE can put it to use!

This powerful secret explains how red wine can go from being a cause of your weight gain to your most powerful weight-loss ally!

So, here’s what I did next.

I wrote down what I consider to be a simple set of guidelines for anyone looking to lose body fat, but still have a full and vibrant life…

…including drinking red wine!

It’s called

The Red Wine Diet is your complete guide to putting the power of this simple daily food-wine technique to work… quickly and easily… so you can slash up to 15 pounds of ugly body fat in the next 60 days.

The Red Wine Diet pulls all these factors together into a plan that you can literally live with for a lifetime. 

You CAN drink red wine and lose weight!

In fact, The Red Wine Diet will show you how you can target body fat, get the physique you’ve been after, AND enjoy your life while you do it!

…even if you drink wine but have watched helplessly as the scale moved in the WRONG direction…

…even if you’ve tried–and failed–with all kinds of other diets in the past…

…even if you don’t have any intention of living in the gym in order to achieve your goals…

And you can do this without...

…giving up your social life and

…passing up that relaxing glass of wine at day’s end…

…plodding along endlessly on a treadmill…

…giving up the things you enjoy in life in order to achieve the body you’ve been after.

Very quickly, let’s talk about what The Red Wine Diet is NOT…

It is not physically demanding

It’s not complicated

It’s not expensive

Again, my clients – and now hundreds more who have purchased my book in a dozen different countries all over the world- have lost thousands of pounds of body fat by following the simple, science-backed approach in my book…

Most importantly, in “THE RED WINE DIET” you will also find simple and easy-to-understand explanation of…

A listing of the foods that can halt your results almost instantly, so that you can avoid ‘self-sabotage’

A step-by-step plan to guide you to fat loss success -even if you have stumbled and failed before

How to shut off your fat storing mechanisms, while cranking up the Fat Conversion Pathway

Exact meal plans based upon the proven, but little known, food-wine combination

A list of “weight loss accelerators” designed to speed your progress by as much as 30%

A “Done for You” list of 9 simple rules, proven to put you on the path to a leaner, healthier and longer life

All for a price LESS THAN a decent bottle of Pinot Noir!

I clearly spell out…

How just one simple food trick could hold your key to fat loss by turning on your own fat burning machinery…

When you drink and with what foods will determine whether you gain weight or lose weight

How to CRUSH the obstacles holding you back…

Why alcohol is not the enemy of weight loss…

What the REAL health benefits of wine are…

A list of foods you must avoid like the plague…

A list of specific steps you can start today to speed up your results…by as much as 30%!

The 9 science-based rules for living a LONGER, HEALTHIER LIFE…

And if you order my book today…I have a few more treats for you!

BONUS #1:  “The Red Wine Diet Cookbook” – FREE!

What possible good is a diet book without a matching cookbook?

So I went “all in” and commissioned this cookbook from a professional European chef.

My one requirement?

I needed 150 recipes that fit your lifestyle, and are in line with my unique Red Wine Diet approach…

The finished product is a cookbook I could not be happier with!  It’s a perfect fit!

Bonus #2: “Stress Elimination Solution” – Free Report!

Throughout my years as a weight loss expert, I have encountered one enemy of weight loss that seems to be EVERYWHERE!

It has become an integral part of our lives…

It disrupts our sleep…  

Harms our health…

It literally shrinks our brain…

And is a direct cause of weight gain!

I’m talking about STRESS!  

…but, stress is more under our control than we realize.

Stress also happens to be one of the most powerful causes of weight gain known to man!

Since the vast majority of my clients are fighting the same battle against stress we are, I HAD to study stress in serious detail.

So much so, that eventually, I became certified in Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction and Brain Fitness…

To that end, I produced a 21 page report on the topic called the “Stress Elimination Solution”

Previously, I have only provided this finished paper to my clients, but to help you battle against this relentless enemy…

I want you to have the report for FREE, when you purchase The Red Wine Diet!

BONUS #3: “Successful Aging Blueprint: A Step-By-Step Guide To Reclaiming Your Health And Developing A Resilient Mindset After Age 45”

Also FREE!

This is  something I’m also incredibly proud of…

I’ve dedicated my life to helping the clients at my facilities, as well as coaching clients across the country, to OWN their aging process.

(And believe me, you don’t need to be over 50 to start planning!)

My latest book–available on Amazon for $9.95 presently–picks up where The Red Wine Diet leaves off…

You’ll get instant access to my best and proven lifestyle changes that will allow you to dictate your health for decades to come…on your terms!

If you have any intention of maintaining an independent and vibrant life for the rest of your days, you’ve found a roadmap for the process in my latest book.  

Inside you’ll find an exact plan to “OWN” the coming decades by:

Developing an ability to achieve any goal you set

Understanding the unique nutritional needs of anyone over age 45

Learning how to design and execute the ideal workout to suit your needs

Identifying the REAL enemies of successful aging we all face

Keying in on ‘core concepts’ of being a Successful Aging Rebel!

Yes, I’ve included a LOT of bonus material here because I truly want to get The Red Wind Diet into your hands, and have that decision be a “no-brainer”!

So go ahead and click the “Order” button and grab “The Red Wine Diet” NOW!

The price for instant access to my incredibly popular book, The Red Wine Diet is only $14.95!

*No physical product will be shipped

One final note…

Over the years, clients have paid me thousands upon thousands of dollars to get results, and to get access to the kind of information found in these books.

But I’m not charging you thousands…

I’m not even charging hundreds…

Actually, if you priced The Red Wine Diet  book plus all the bonuses out separately, it totals just around $65.00…

That’s FAR less than I would charge for a single workout with me at my facility.

And I’m not charging that much either…

So why would I practically give way years of research and insights for $14.95?

Because I have seen first hand how frustrated people are by the entire weight loss process

AND I know that the myths that persist, along with confusing headlines are NOT helping you reach your weight loss goals!

You need clarity.

You need this information.

And it’s now priced at $14.95.

You may say, “Hold on Art, what if I read the book and decide this approach is not a good fit?”

Well frankly, in that case, I don’t want your money.  It’s that simple.

“If you are not satisfied for any reason within 60 days of purchase, I will happily give you back every penny of your investment.”

No questions asked.

You can drop 15 pounds in as little as 60 days, all while you’re drinking wine every day…and finally be rid of the weight.

All for $14.95

AND it’s completely risk-free because it’s fully covered by my guarantee.

You have zero risk, so why not?

Is there any reason not to check it out?

I stand behind “The Red Wine Diet” without reservation!

(I DARE you to find a guarantee like that from any diet book on the market!)

So click the button below to start losing weight today.

*No physical product will be shipped

I look forward to helping you along your journey.

Cheers!

Founder – Successful Aging Academy Author | Speaker | Wellness Activist

Enjoy Life.  Lose Fat.

P.S. – If you have read this far, I HAVE to believe you are truly interested in losing that stubborn body fat AND having a fun-filled life.  

I am so eager to get my book into your hands as soon possible, I am offering “The Red Wine Diet” for only $14.95…

AND I am adding the Cookbook (Also a $14.95 value)

AND the Stress Elimination Solution report (A $29.00 value)

AND my latest book “Successful Aging Blueprint” (priced at $9.95)

All Bonuses FOR FREE.

*No physical product will be shipped

P.P.S. – Keep in mind, you have nothing to lose…except unwanted body fat, that is…you’re protected by my irrefutable, unshakable, ironclad, no-hassle 100% Money Back Guarantee.

(Did I include enough adjectives for you!!!)

Click on the “Order Now” button to get instant access to EVERYTHING described and be reading my book in just minutes.

NOTE:  This is a digital product. A physical book will not be shipped.

If you prefer a physical copy, you can simply order my best-selling book on Amazon.  

However, neither the cookbook, nor any of the other bonuses items are available for free with Amazon…

*No physical product will be shipped

Fischer-Posovszky, P. American Journal of Clinical Nutrition, July 2010; vol 92: pp 5-15.

Anderson CA (expert opinion). Mayo Clinic, Rochester, Minn. Sept. 23, 2013

News release, University of Buffalo.Ghanim, H. Journal of Clinical Endocrinology & Metabolism, 2010.

Kodali M, Parihar VK, Hattiangady B, Mishra V, Shuai B, Shetty AK. “Resveratrol prevents age-related memory and mood dysfunction with increased hippocampal neurogenesis and microvasculature, and reduced glial activation.”  Sci Rep. 2015 Jan 28;5:8075.

Howe et al.  Presented at 24th Scientific Meeting of International Society of Hypertension, 22 Oct. 2012.

Gresele P, et al. Resveratrol, at concentrations attainable with moderate wine consumption, stimulates human platelet nitric oxide production. Journal of Nutrition. 2008;138:1602.

Red Wine and Your Heart.  Circulation American Heart Association: http://circ.ahajournals.org/content/111/2/e10.full

Alcohol and heart disease. American Heart Association. http://www.heart.org/HEARTORG/Conditions/More/MyHeartandStrokeNews/Alcohol-and-Heart-Disease_UCM_305173_Article.jsp. Accessed Sept. 5, 2013.

Saremi A, et al. The cardiovascular implications of alcohol and red wine. American Journal of Therapeutics. 2008;15:265.

Tangney CC, et al. Cardiovascular benefits and risks of moderate alcohol consumption. http://www.uptodate.com/home. Accessed Sept. 3, 2013.

Resveratrol. Linus Pauling Institute at Oregon State University. http://lpi.oregonstate.edu/infocenter/phytochemicals/resveratrol/. Accessed Sept. 5, 2013.

Resveratrol. Natural Medicines Comprehensive Database. http://naturaldatabase.therapeuticresearch.com/nd/Search.aspx?cs=SCHOOLNOPL~AER&s=ND&pt=100&id=307&ds=. Accessed Sept. 5, 2013.

Carrizzo A, et al. Antioxidant effects of resveratrol in cardiovascular, cerebral and metabolic diseases. Food and Chemical Toxicology. 2013. In press. Accessed Sept. 5, 2013.

Mukamal KJ, et al. Overview of the risks and benefits of alcohol consumption. http://www.uptodate.com/home. Accessed Sept. 3, 2013.

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The Red Wine Diet | 2019 | Email Support: info@successfulaging.academy

[turnloosethelibrary]

ASCENSION, THE FIRST

By Cee

Fire was destruction. That was why Callidia respected it, even though she couldn’t spend more than two minutes around an open flame without getting the shakes. It had set her free one cold winter night like a bird from its cage. At first, her family had assumed she’d perished, then they assumed she’d set it. Neither were true but she had seized upon the destruction of 546 Illiger Way to leave town. It wasn’t like, in the glow of the night, she had anywhere else to go. She called up her best friend on the payphone and told him to tell anyone else who was tired of the confines of the town, even if it were for a reason completely different from hers, to come around, the bus leaves in an hour. A few of them did and they boarded a bus to nowhere.

None of them were certain when, two years on the road, they crossed into another world. There were no flashing lights, no rabbit holes to fall in or tornados to take them away, they didn’t get lost or swept overboard or get swallowed whole by an earthquake. Maybe the first sign was that the sky was just a bit more purple than usual, the air just a bit more sweeter, but that could’ve been chalked up to being on a whole new coast, so far away from their home. Nothing about the new world was particularly new, nor interesting.

Then, they met the talking black fox, guided by a butterfly made of fire and any explanation they had crumbled away.  “Welcome home, young ones.”

The first reaction to a talking fox is generally a rapid fire list of all the things one has consumed in the past forty eight hours, to rule out food poisoning or drugs. Being that Calli had only had a few apples and some bread, she felt pretty safe to say that it wasn’t a hallucination. She felt like she should freak out, after all she could hear Quincy’s rapid breathing behind her, along with whispered questions of disbelief but the fact that some foxes could talk settled deeply in her heart, like the fact that some boys (like Quincy) wore make-up or some girls (like Aislinn) believed in tarot. She bent down, out stretching her hand. She read once that in order to get a dog to like you, you had to let it smell you. She wasn’t sure if the same thing would be said for a talking fox but it did push its head into her hand so she figured it was close enough.

“Hello there,” She whispered softly. The fox looked up at her with orange eyes. Her breath caught in her throat as it spoke again. It sounded young, high-pitched, almost like a child.

“You five have travelled far, but you have so much further to go. Come! Follow me! The Elements are gathering and wish to see you.” The fox bounded off, then looked back at them, twiching its tail.

“This is crazy, we can’t do this.” Suzy broke the silence that had partially fell, her drawl trailing behind her thoughts.

Calli shrugged, “Well, do you want to waste time wondering how it’s possible or do you want to figure out where we are?”

“Both? I feel like both will be very ahuh, helpful.” Quincy spoke now, running his fingers through his hair.

“Look, okay none of us understand this, but either we freak out, or we try to understand what’s going on and quite frankly, I think I’ve had enough freaking out for a lifetime, thank you very much. I’m going to follow him. Y’all can stay here if you want.” Callidia crossed her arms, making no motion to leave. She became a de-facto leader in the winter time, when their food bags would get low and she hoped that the trust that position brought would let them follow her. She didn’t want to go through whatever the forest brought alone.

Quincy, Aislinn and Suzy shared a glance of equal concern. Jason stood a little straighter and grinned, “I’m going to follow you, sweetheart. I trust you.”

“Any other complaints?” Calli cocked her head, looking each of her friends in the eyes in turn. “Then let’s go.”

The people the fox took them to professed to be Gods. Calli had a hard time believing that, until she saw a man rise from the earth and a woman fall from the sky, landing perfectly. She backed away from them, closer to the fire. They were impossible beings, with hair that seemed to move of its own accord, hair not made of keratin but with their respective elements. The woman who fell from the sky chose Aislinn, sweet Aislinn with her habit of staring off into space and talking about things that could not be. The man who rose from the earth chose anxious Quincy. One with hair of water chose her beloved Jason. Calli didn’t see who chose Suzy.  It didn’t seem that there was to be anyone for her. She backed away, closer and closer to the fire.

Then she stopped. She had run into something solid and it felt like a scene out of an old horror movie as she turned her head. A man stood there where before there had been nothing but the hot flames.  He laughed cruelly, until he saw the fear in her eyes and the way her shoulders rose to her ears and his laughter died off. “Hey now, it’s alright. Just a prank, my dear, just a prank.”

She stepped away to appraise him thoroughly. His hair was made of fire, though she wasn’t certain if that was because he had seemingly just stepped from it or if it was a personal aspect. Her throat tightened at the thought that this would be her - she hadn’t even realized what they had been chosen for.

They were Gods and they were the Elements and they were going to raise them to ascend.

The man who took her in told her to call him Jayvin, though his subjects called him the Lord of Fire. She liked knowing his true name, it made her feel just a bit safer in this foreign element, strange in more than a few ways. He noticed her discomfort around the open flames, and so moved her bedroom further away from the central chambers and higher up, where there was more smoke and ash, but less live fire without her even having to ask. He didn’t seem to be a harsh or cruel man, but for the first few nights when she moved in she stayed awake, still and staring up at the ceiling so she would be ready to defend herself if need be.

Time passed oddly in that world, and she wasn’t sure if she had been there days or weeks or months or years. She didn’t know when she last saw the Chugs, and she missed them but she knew they were most likely off in their own adventures, finding their place in this strange new world.  She studied history of the world because she loved learning. That would’ve been a great surprise to any who knew her in her old life but there was none of that competitive hierarchy that made each lesson a game of memory, not of comprehension. Each day was paced exactly how she needed it. She learnt of the foxes and the dragons and the other creatures that fell under the Lord Fire’s commands.  Communications between her and Jayvin were few. He was far busier than she was, though he did try to spend at least dinner with her.

“Soon,” He said each night, “soon I think you’ll be ready to learn magic.” That seemed far more impressive to her than learning of how many wars the Elements had gotten into over their respective times. There had been ten cycles of Elements, and hers was to be the eleventh - a holy number by Jayvin’s old books. It made her feel luckier about the whole affair.

He took her to a razing one long day. An entire length of forest was found to be hazardous, quite possibly cursed. The only one hundred percent remedy to either of those was a complete burning. He left her on a hill, close enough to see what was happening, but not so close that she was in danger of being burned, though he warded the hill, just in case. Once the boundaries were set and the fire was started, Jayvin walked up the hill and sat next to her. They were quiet for a long while, just watching the blaze, the grass turning bright then a dead black.

“This is one of my least favorite parts of it.” Jayvin said softly. “The destruction.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“Because otherwise this land would be inhabitable. With each razing, comes the chance for life to renew again, for potential to blossom. That’s why Rev doesn’t despise me each time I must destroy part of his kingdom.”

Callidia nodded, that seemed honorable enough. “Am I going to have to do that one day?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

The flames turned blue, reached their apex. It now had nowhere else to spread but back into itself. Soon it would be out, destroying itself as it had destroyed the trees that’d grown in that cursed ground. She shuddered, tried to act like her throat wasn’t closing up. She didn’t want to be the kind of person to do that, even if it were necessary. It seemed so sad.

“Here now,” Jayvin drew her attention away from the fire burning miles away to one in the palms of his hands. “I wouldn’t have survived so long as an Element if it were all razing and doom and gloom.” He seemed to form a butterfly out of the fire in his hands, carefully pushing it into open air. It floated there, streaming auburn flame. It reminded Calli of the Monarch butterfly she’d seen once on a hot summer day.

“Can you teach me how to do that?” She asked, eyes wide. She followed each amber spout.

“When you’re ready, of course.”

“Will I ever be?”

“I guess we’ll have to see.” Jayvin smiled lightly,  “I think you will be. Tomorrow, maybe, or the day after.”

She pulled her legs up to her, hiding a grin. He was annoying, surely he knew relaxing around the fire wasn’t an option for her but.. maybe, maybe she’d get used to it. Fire was destruction, but it was also creation and renewal. It was burnt houses and growing leafs and it seemed to her it was the first family she ever knew.

[empireofwrestlemania]

Something else

“Suppose even a nobleman’s influence has its limits?” jeered the voice of the guard who sat in the back of the cart with Faith. He was a large man, clad in the armour of the Emperor’s guards and watching her closely with a harsh expression. She’d heard him addressed as Joe before, but that was all she knew.

“Leave me alone,” she muttered.

“Why? Ashamed that your dearest father couldn’t save you from getting thrown out? I’d offer you a way out, but if you rejected Lord Randy Orton, I doubt you’d want anything to do with me,” he said with a chuckle.

“Absolutely not,” she snapped, glaring at him. “I am already in love-”

“Yeah, yeah, in love with some other guy. We all know the story, sweetheart, so spare me. It’s probably for the better that you’re being thrown away - Empire could do with fewer mouthy ladies like you.”

“You’d best watch your tongue,” Faith said, still glaring daggers. “You’d best believe that when I’m back, it’s you that I’m coming for first.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, rolling his eyes. Abruptly, the wagon came to a stop, and he smirked. “Looks like this is our stop.”

He stood up and walked over, grabbing Faith by the arm and forcefully pulling her upright. There wasn’t much she could do with her hands bound, so she had no choice but to let the large guard manhandle her as much as he wanted. She was fairly certain at one point while he was pulling her to the door at the back of the wagon, he tried to cop a feel, but at this point she wasn’t even sure any more.

The door was opened by another guard, decked in so much armour that she couldn’t see his face, and the large guard named Joe climbed out. He kept his grip on her arm, pulling her carefully down so as not to hurt her or cause her to trip. He smirked down at her.

“Last chance, you’re welcome to come back and stay in my cellar,” he murmured, lifting a hand and letting his thumb rub across her cheek gently. His very touch felt gross to Faith, and she did something she’d been wanting to do the whole time they’d bee in the wagon - she leaned up and spat in his face.

She heard a slight snort from the other guard, but Joe looked unimpressed. He glared down at her, clearly weighing his options. “Let it go, Joe,” came the other guard’s voice, and Faith was relieved. She knew that he wasn’t allowed to harm her on the way to the Outlands, but she had no way of knowing whether or not laying hands on her was fair game once there.

“You’d better hope I never see you again,” Joe murmured in a low voice before climbing back up in the carriage. He shut the door behind himself, and the other guard pulled out a knife to cut loose Faith’s hands.

“So that’s it?” she asked nervously, looking up at the somewhat-kinder guard. “I’m stuck here now with nothing?”

“Pretty much,” he said with a nod. “Good luck, kid. You’re going to need it.”

With that, the guard headed back to the front of the carriage. Faith stood there silently, watching them as they started to move. Within only a matter of minutes, the carriage had driven off in the direction of the Empire, and Faith was left behind in the Outlands, lost and alone and with no supplies of any sort.

She took a moment to take in her surroundings. It was bleak - almost reminiscent of the Demon Kingdom, though there was much more plant life. Tall grasses, the occasional bush or tree, but little else. It was going to be harsh terrain, and she’d have to find someplace to camp for the night - assuming nothing or no one else found her first.

She suddenly regretted not taking time to study the Outlands after she found out that Wade was moving here. He’d been the best blacksmith in the Capital, but had decided that life in the Empire wasn’t for him. His exile had been by choice, which had shocked a lot of people in town, but Faith most of all.

She’d been in love with Wade. They’d been carrying on an affair for several months, and when he’d left, she’d been heartbroken. She had no idea how to move on - and then, Randy Orton had come along.

A nobleman with significantly more power and prestige than Faith’s own minor noble of a father, she and Randy had met at King John’s SummerSlam Annual Gala. For him, it had been some sort of strange love at first sight - he’d invited her to dance, and she’d barely been able to get rid of him all evening. When he’d sent her a letter inviting her family to his estate, her father had refused to let her decline.

The trip to Randy’s had proven devastating for all of them, though. No matter how much Randy pushed, Faith was determined not to give him the time of day. From everything she’d heard, he was an awful man - he mocked fairies, taunted elves, and even went so far as to go hunting for giants, just for the fun of it. It was appalling behaviour by Faith’s standards, and as much as she knew that she had to move on from Wade, she also knew that a man like Randy didn’t deserve her.

Randy had eventually become frustrated. “My dear Faith, what is the matter?” he’d asked her while the pair were out horseback riding. She’d been given little choice in the matter, so she was trying to just enjoy some time out in the fresh air and ignore her awful company. “It feels as though you’re trying not to talk to me - do you not wish to get to know one another better?”

“No, frankly, I do not,” she’d answered, unable to tolerate his pushiness any longer. “I am not interested in you in that way, my Lord, and to be truthful, wish that you would leave me be.”

Such an answer was not what Randy had been expecting. He’d been utterly silent the rest of the way back to his estate, and that night, she’d overheard a heated discussion between Randy and her father.

They had abruptly left the next morning, the carriage overtaken by an uncomfortable silence as she and her family traveled home. “Father?” she’d finally asked in a soft voice. As much as she despised Randy, she also loved her father, and she hated that she’d disappointed him.

“Hm?” had been his answer, glancing her way out of the sides of his eyes.

“I’m sorry I disa-” she started to say, but he had cut in.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he said curtly, and she sighed softly.

“Please, father,” she said softly. To her surprise, he hadn’t stopped her this time. “Disappointing you was never my intention. I didn’t think before I spoke, and Lord Randy-”

“Lord Randy was an excellent choice of suitor,” her father cut in, and she knew that he wasn’t going to let her say all that had to be said. “Now you’ve offended him. He no longer vies for your affections, and-”

“But isn’t that a good thing, father?” Faith asked quickly. “It leaves me available for potential suitors whom I may actually have feelings for.”

“I don’t think you understand - you sit here talking about potential suitors, yet don’t recognize the potential danger you may have incurred for this family,” her father said sternly. “Lord Randy is friends with the Emperor. When he wants something, he gets it. Disappointing me may never have been your intention, but the result was something far beyond disappointment.”

“Danger?” Faith had asked, suddenly nervous. “Did he threaten you?”

“No, no, dear,” her mother said, finally speaking up for the first time the whole carriage ride. Faith had almost forgotten that her mother had been there, as she’d sat near the window and gazed out silently. “I’m sure it will be fine, we simply must keep our guard up in case Lord Randy tries anything. Now both of you, stop this fighting. I grow weary of listening to it.”

They had stopped, but it had been an uncomfortable, thinly-veiled truce. They had barely spoken a word to one another for the next several days, and when the Emperor’s letter had arrived informing them that Faith was to be exiled - for offending a noble, they’d said, as if she herself wasn’t a noble - her father had done nothing.

Faith could see nothing for miles. It was simply rolling hills of yellowed grass, decorated with the occasional bush or shrub. Did people really live in the Outlands? How? She didn’t understand it. She had nothing, and she was beginning to doubt that she’d last longer than a few days. She’d starve to death before she found the settlement rumoured to be out here.

She started walking. Frankly, she had nothing better to do. Maybe, just maybe, she’d get lucky. Maybe she’d find the settlement. Maybe she’d stumble upon some bandits who’d be willing to teach her how to swing a sword and let her live with them. Or maybe the bandits would be merciful enough to give her a quick death instead of letting her slowly starve.

She’d studied enough maps of the Empire to know what the Outlands looked like. They were on the coast, and to the North, there was a river. If the settlement was going to be anywhere, it would be close to the water - likely on the river, she figured, but maybe there was another smaller river that wasn’t mapped, or maybe they had a witch or wizard capable of filtering the salt from the seawater. Either way, she knew she had to travel East. She gazed up at the sun, contemplating its position in the sky.

“Is it morning or afternoon?” she asked, seemingly addressing the sun itself. “I don’t even know, I’ve been stuck in that cart for so long. And now I’m talking to myself.”

She took note of where the sun was, and then stopped to sit. It was hot, the sun beating down on her, but until she knew what way she was headed, she had no intentions of aimlessly walking in a random direction.

When she looked back about twenty minutes later, having almost fallen asleep right there on the ground, the sun had moved. Downwards. And a little to the left. Which meant that she had to walk away from it, and to the right.

And so, she started walking. And walking. She walked until her feet became sore, and then she kept on walking. She had nothing with her but the clothes she’d been wearing when the Emperor’s men had come to take her. The shoes were uncomfortable for walking, but she had to stick it out. Who knew, maybe the settlement would have a half-decent cobbler.

She froze when she saw a shape on the horizon. Was that...could those be people? Seeing the distant form brought a spring to her step, and she found herself hurrying towards it. She closer she got, the more she was able to make out the shape - it was another cart, but it was different from the one that had brought her here. It was pulled by a horse, and atop it, Faith could make out...three people.

“Hello?” she called when she was close enough that she suspected she’d be within earshot. “Can you hear me?”

She saw one of the figures turn its head, and then, the cart slowed to a stop. Her heart jumped for joy - surely this was a group of people from the settlement, and they’d be able to take her there. Maybe she’d soon see Wade again.

When she reached the cart, on of the people - a young woman, with light brown skin and dark hair - had climbed down and started making her way towards Faith. The woman wore tight armour of leather and furs, her legs bare and a sword at her hip.

“Who are you?” the woman asked, and Faith smiled nervously.

“My name is Faith,” she said. “I was just outcast - I don’t know where to go, or what to do. I’ve been walking all day...”

“Oh, you poor thing,” the woman said, returning Faith’s smile. “Why don’t you come with us? I’m sure we’ve got space enough for one more.”

“R-really?” Faith asked. “It would be deeply appreciated, ma’am.”

“Ma’am? You really are from the Empire,” the woman said with a laugh, putting her hands on her hips. “My name’s Cameron.”

“Cameron!” called one of the men from the cart, as if to prove her point. He had neat dark hair and a large moustache on his face. “Come on, what’s taking so long?”

“Calm down, Simon, I’m coming!” Cameron called back, rolling her eyes. “That’s Simon. He’s got a bit of a temper, so watch that you don’t get on his bad side.”

“Duly noted,” Faith replied with a nod. She let Cameron lead her back to the cart, climbing up into the back. The cart had barely started to move, though, before Simon stood bolt upright.

“Horses in the distance,” he said. Cameron turned around, looking in the direction that Simon was gazing.

“Shit!” exclaimed Cameron. “Doesn’t this thing go any faster?”

“W-what is it? Bandits?” Faith asked softly.

“No, honey, we’re the bandits,” Cameron replied, giving her only a brief glance.

“They’re gaining on us,” Simon said. The third person, the man driving the cart, seemed to be focused solely on driving.

“Get ready for a fight,” Cameron said to Simon, drawing her sword. She looked towards Faith, who was still stunned at finding out that these were the bandits. “You know how to fight?” she asked.

“No,” Faith said quickly.

“Then keep your head down,” Cameron replied. Faith nodded, moving to sit in the bottom of the cart rather than on the seat. She covered her head and waited.

Ahead of her, Cameron jumped off the side of the cart, followed by Simon. They slowed to a stop, and Faith heard the driver draw a blade and go out after them. She could hear horses galloping - three, she suspected - and then came the sounds of fighting.

Blades clanked and clattered against one another. She heard shouts and cries. She began to question who she even really wanted to win. Cameron seemed good to her, but what she really wanted was to reach the settlement where she’d find Wade. She had no way of even knowing who these people on horseback were - perhaps they were from the settlement? Or perhaps they were people belonging to the Emperor, sent to purge the Outlands of bandits?

It was several minutes before Faith finally figured out who the winners were. She heard Cameron’s frantic voice - “Alright, alright, I yield!” - and then, the sheathing of swords.

“Check the cart,” came a male voice. Faith heard footsteps, and then she both heard and felt the motion of someone climbing up into the cart. A sword was drawn, and then silence. She could practically feel their eyes on her.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze. Sure enough, someone was standing over her with a sword pointed down at her. It was a woman, a...fairy? Or an elf. Faith couldn’t tell - she had pointed ears like an elf, but she had small wings like a fairy, bright pink with royal blue veins and tips of gold. They were translucent, letting the light shimmer through them, and her armour was made of a luminescent metal that seemed to gleam every colour of the rainbow in the sunlight. Her hair matched her wings, bright pink on one side and blue on the other, and her face was covered with a mask. It was white, with the design of a face on it that had rainbow paintings around the eyes and chin.

“P-please,” Faith said quickly. “I’m not one of them - I just arrived here today, they picked me up not ten minutes ago. I don’t want to be a bandit, I just want to get to the town.”

The woman’s face was invisible, hidden behind the mask. She remained still for a moment, the sword still pointing at Faith, until finally, she withdrew it. She sheathed it, and then slowly knelt so she was level with the girl. She lifted her hand, grasping the mask and slowly removing it. She had a beautiful face, with slanted dark eyes, war paint, and a mischievous kind of smile. Slowly she stood upright, and then she offered her other hand to Faith.

Carefully, Faith took the woman’s hand and allowed her to help her to her feet. She glanced off to the side, where she saw the remnants of the battle. The man who had been driving the carriage lay dead beside it, while Cameron was reluctantly standing at swordpoint. The man beside her, holding the sword, was tall, but that was all Faith could tell - from head to toe, he was covered in a full suit of armour. Simon was sitting on the ground nearby, clutching a bleeding leg.

“My lady, is everything - oh,” came a voice, as another man approached the cart from behind. He was not dressed in armour, though he had a dagger at his hip and the added bulk beneath his tunic seemed to indicate the presence of a chestplate. He climbed up into the carriage, eyeing Faith closely. “Hello,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“I was lost - I was brought to the Outlands today, and these bandits picked me up,” Faith replied. “What did they want with me?”

“I only wish we knew. We’ve been following their movements for quite some time now. Why were you cast out of the Empire?”

“I offended a nobleman,” Faith mumbled, glancing away. The man chuckled, though.

“As did I, my dear, as did I,” he said. He stepped past the woman with the rainbow armour, reaching out and putting a gentle hand on Faith’s shoulder. “It would probably be safest to send you to the town. You don’t look like you can fight, so you probably wouldn’t last out here on your own.”

“The town? So it is real?” Faith asked, and the man nodded.

“Indeed it is,” he replied. “Oh - my name is Mauro, by the way. Mauro Ranallo. Personal courier to the Empress of Tomorrow.”

Faith slowly looked from him towards the woman in the rainbow armour. She had turned around and made her way to the back of the cart, but when Mauro spoke, the woman slowly looked over her shoulder. She flashed Faith a wink before hopping off of the cart, heading over towards the fully armoured man who stood with Cameron.

“Is that...?” Faith asked, and Mauro gave her a smile.

“We should get going - we can probably take their cart, they won’t be needing it any longer. I’m sure the people will appreciate it - a gift from the rebellion, we can say. The farmers can probably find some sort of use for it.”

“So you’re going to take me there?” Faith asked, and Mauro nodded.

“I most certainly am,” he replied. “You were on a cart full of bandits, so I doubt you know the way there yourself.”

“Well, no,” Faith replied.

“Very well - let’s be on our way, then. Take a seat, my dear,” he said, heading up to the front where the driver had originally been sitting. Faith quietly sat down near the front of the cart, and as they took off, she glanced back one last time to where Cameron, Simon, and the two rebels were.

“What’s going to happen to them?” Faith asked.

“Stevens and the Empress will take them back to our base to be questioned. We may be able to make use of them as assets, if they can be persuaded.”

“How are you going to get back to your base when you take me to the town?” Faith asked next.

“You sure do ask a lot of questions,” Mauro said. “It’s alright, I don’t mind - I have my ways, though I’ll have to keep quiet about them. Keeping ourselves functioning depends on keeping secrets.”

They rode on until dark, at which point Faith found herself falling asleep on the bench. It had been a long day, and she felt safe with Mauro. There was just something about him - his tone, the words he used, the way he spoke - that made you feel that he could be trusted.

For a couple days longer, they rode on. Faith and Mauro found the bandits’ secret food stash hidden beneath a plank of the cart, meaning that they wouldn’t have to stop to forage or hunt as he’d been anticipating. All along the way, Faith asked him questions about the rebellion. Many of them he answered. Others he couldn’t, which she understood. By the time they reached the lush riverbank and Mauro told her that they were near the town, she was an expert on the ways of the rebellion.

When they reached the town, Faith felt her heart all but leap out of her chest. It really did exist. So surely Wade had to be here somewhere, right? They stopped near the middle of town. A number of townspeople had gathered to see what was going on, but to Faith’s dismay, she saw that Wade wasn’t one of them.

“Mauro?” asked one of the men who had approached. Mauro got up, climbing down off the cart and offering Faith a hand. She accepted, though she was still looking around for Wade.

“This is Faith,” Mauro said to the man. “We just rescued her from some bandits - she’s only been an outcast a few days, and we thought it best that she come here where she’ll be safe.”

“Do you know if Wade Barrett is here?” Faith asked, looking towards the man who had addressed Mauro. He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t respond, instead looking over her shoulder at Mauro.

“And the cart?” he asked.

“Taken from the bandits. A gift, from us to you. You’ll probably be able to make better use of it than we could,” Mauro replied.

“Please, can you tell me if Wade lives here?” Faith asked again, irritated that the man wasn’t answering her. The man smirked, glancing over her shoulder and giving a nod. Faith whirled around to see who he was looking at.

A few feet away, she saw Wade. He seemed to have just emerged from a building, and his arms were folded over his chest. He had a hard look on his face that softened immediately when he saw her. “Faith?” he asked.

“Wade!” she exclaimed, rushing towards him. He opened his arms, pulling her close. The moment she was comfortably enveloped in his arms, she began to cry. His fingers were running through her hair, her tears were making a damp spot on his shirt, and under his breath, he was murmuring softly, “Shh...shh, my darling, it’s alright...”

When she finally regained her composure and was able to quell her tears, she drew back and looked up at him. She lifted her hands, gently caressing his face. “I never thought I’d see you again,” she whispered.

“I always knew that I’d see you again one day,” he replied, smiling down at her. Then, he lifted his gaze and looked over to Mauro. “Thank you for keeping her safe, and for bringing her here, Mauro.”

“It was no problem at all,” Mauro replied. “Any chance that this can help persuade you to forge steel for the rebellion?”

“I’ve told you, I’m not interested,” Wade said, shaking his head.

“Worth a try,” Mauro said with a shrug. “I should be on my way now - take care of her, that’s a good woman you’ve got there.”

Mauro was leaving, but Faith was more interested in looking at Wade than she was in turning around to watch Mauro leave. It had been so long since she’d seen him - he looked all the more rugged and handsome to her now. Her hands were still touching his face, and he looked back down at her with a slight grin.

“I’m happy to see you, Faith,” he said. “Come into the smithy with me, let’s talk - as happy as I am to see you, I am somewhat disappointed that you’ve ended up here.”

“It’s quite the story,” she replied. “Ending up here wasn’t my intention - I wasn’t following you, like I think that Emma Vandran is planning to.”

“Ugh, not Emma Vandran,” Wade said as he led her towards the Bullhammer. By now, the rest of the town was starting to return to their normal business. “You have to tell me all I’ve missed.”

“I will, I will,” Faith said with a laugh. “But there’s time yet, Wade. We have plenty of time to catch up...I’m here now. Forever. With you.”

Characters used: @she-reigns-in-this-yard

Tagging: @hardcorewwetrash @macfizzle @xxshamelesspunk247xx @sisteradelaide @sonjashuterbugjohnson @queenreignsempire

[kittkaleen]

Hot off the presses ...

Kitt: Well you know Osha, I don’t feel like a heroine and Warrior of Light is one of many titles I’ve been labelled with. Overall, I don’t think the label is representative of me as a woman, I really don’t take it terribly seriously....

Osha: Oh what!? I doubt I need to recap your many adventures or victories on the battlefield for our readers, but primal slaying, protector of city states, beloved of the people .. oh my you really are blushing!

Kitt: Mhmm ... these things are a part of my work, and I think its important to note that I am very well supported in my endeavors by an extensive group of colleagues and friends. There is no “warrior of light” without the vast network of highly skilled people that make it possible.  Osha: Modest. Isn’t that lovely!? So lets talk fans ... can you stroll the market place without being bothered by paparazzi? 

Kitt; Very much so. I don’t have the sort of work that plasters my face on posters. I’m a regular at the local market place.

My husband, Haru and I often travel throughout Eorzea and abroad without problem. Recently, we’ve spent much time in Shirogane and Othard, which has been really amazing.

Osha: Where were you born, Kitt? Kitt: I was born and raised in the North Shroud.

Osha: And where do you call home now? 

Kitt: Hmm I have a home in the Lavender Beds, an apartment on the coast, and plans for a new house in the near future.

Osha: Ooo very nice! Congratulations!  Now then, back to your childhood. I recently heard a snippet of gossip I am dying to know the veracity of ..

Kitt: Ask away ... Osha: So obliging! You’ve an established reputation as a paladin of some significant renown, however, rumor has it that your parents are none too pleased with this shift in career.... Care to discuss?

Kitt: Osha, my parents are deceased ... tis no drama... I miss them of course, however, many, many lives were lost during the Calamity. Anyhap I sincerely doubt my parents would be bothered. They were always very supportive of my interests and passions. 

Osha: Passion! So is tanking a passion for you?

Kitt: Definitely! 

Osha: Was it a childhood interest?

Kitt: No... 

Osha: I must ask, what did you want to be when you grew up Kitt?!

Kitt: Hmm... I’ve always been very interested in design actually. My mother was an incredible artisan weaver and leather-worker and an amazing business woman. I inherited my father’s love of botany hmm - I am not sure where I would have ultimately settled for career if I hadn’t been pulled into the thick of the Calamity.

Just prior to the Calamity, I was, as it happens, undertaking archery training at the Quivers Hold in Gridania. 

Osha: Archery!?

Kitt: Indeed. My father was a brilliant archer. I grew up walking the woods alongside him. Mayhap I would have followed in his footsteps ...

Osha: Did you plan to be a bard?

Kitt: Not really to be honest. I am more of an archer. Barding was a bit of an after thought. I knew my father would have been proud, and after their deaths, I thought perhaps I could make a go of it.

Osha: But no?

Kitt: Hmm, again, I am a far better archer than I am a bard. Give me a bow, a thick wood and a full moon, and I am a woman in her element. Archery for me is a solo activity. 

Osha: Its a rather big jump from bard school to paladin training! Tell us about that?

Kitt: Actually there was another big jump in there too. I chose to dedicate significant study to magical arts, in particular healing. I am a Grandmaster of Magic, since we’ve been discussing titles; Aetheric healing is a specialty and I am still found on the field as a scholar, very often!

Osha: How did I not know this!? 

Kitt: See titles are a funny thing. You think you know someone based on the title they have over their head of a moment, but there’s so more to us all than any one title.

Osha: Wise words indeed. But back to tanking since this interview is after all, for Tanked magazine!

Kitt: Please, continue.

Osha: So what turned your head to tanking? Tell all!

Kitt: I feel I have told this story so many times, I do hope I’ll not bore your readers with it .. I was actually healing for a small party in the Arum Vale some many moons past. We were fortunate to have the hired help of an exceptionally skilled paladin. 

Osha: Oh. I haven't heard this story either. The Arum Vale ... sounds terrifying!

Kitt: It’s a tricky landscape, full of poisonous plants and creatures. A good party skillfully navigates the terrain and wildlife. A less skillful party are more like to find death. 

Osha: Was it your first time?

Kitt: Heavens no. I’ve undertaken many a field trip to the Vale and seen it go wrong too. Of course, the Vale has a terrible reputation for taxing the skills of even a well qualified and experienced healer - tank for that matter too. Mistakes are costly on health, morale and the success of the mission. Poor tanking or healing means almost certain disaster,  and those who fight poorly .. well .. they are a liability as well. 

So there I was ... healing for this little party, unknown, unseasoned  members with enough experience under my belt to know inexperience was seriously hazardous to our party health.

Osha: Ohhh my! What happened?!

Kitt: As I mentioned, we had this incredible paladin leading our party. There was not a single moment where he did not have complete control over the environment. Each skirmish was handled with flawless strategy and a deft hand on sword and shield. His ability to read the battle, plan for it and utilize his skills in such a way to ensure the viability of the party and mission success was quite frankly exemplary. 

Osha: Can we name this inspirational figure from your history?

Kitt: Sadly I’ve never been able to remember his name. The mission was a resounding success. We collected the expected recompense and went our separate ways. However, I was deeply impacted. I tired of healing people who had run into the wrong end of sword or axe, claw or tooth - I wanted to be proactive, protective, preemptive. This of course is entirely consistent with my approach as a healer as well, wherein I have specialized as a preemptive healer.

Osha: I see, I see. Hmm ... so tanking ... paladin was your first choice...

Kitt: Mhmmm I fell in love with the class hard and fast. Not too far in, I was leading my own Arum Vale parties. Successfully I might add. Of course I was also more than a little terrified of learning to tank as well. Oh the stories I could tell you, and your readers! I think they might be surprised to hear what a scairdy cat I was and how very hard I had to study and toil to get where I am. 

Osha: So tanking doesn’t come naturally to you?

Kitt: I’d say yes and no. The strategy of tanking, the ability to read the environment and control a fight strategically comes very naturally. Leading and guiding a party, also, hmm, very natural. However, I am well used to fighting at range as an archer, and to healing from a distance as well. It took some considerable training to learn to boldly walk up to a very mean person or thing and let them come at me with the intent to end my life and that of the party I lead.  Its a very primal and confronting fear.

Osha: Are you still afraid?

Kitt: I think I will always retain a practical and pragmatic, oh so healthy bit o’ fear. It keeps me on my toes, sharp and alert. It generally stops me from making stupid mistakes. I am not a cocky tank. 

Osha: Oh really? I’ve heard different.

Kitt: Have you now? 

Osha. Indeed. You’re building quite a reputation as an “aggressive tank” did you know?

Kitt: No I didn’t, but how wonderful!

Osha: That reputation doesn’t bother you?

Kitt: Look, when I began tanking I was cautious, overly so some might say. I was anxious, less confident by far. I didn’t want the responsibility of leading and preferred to play a support role in larger parties, not main tank. 

Osha: I can’t even imagine you tanking like that!

Kitt: No not now of course. Now I am experienced and confident. I am not bothered if people label me as an aggressive tank - better aggressive than a pussy, no? There’s very little room for a timid tank. You either find your backbone and confidence or go back to sniffing your quarry’s arse as a damage dealer. Failing that you heal, or retire altogether and grow nice pumpkins or fish or something.  

Osha: Or ... have a family mayhap Kitt?

Kitt: Are you asking me if I would give up adventuring to start a family? No. I love children, but my life is not conducive to having children of my own. I’ve no interest really.

Osha: You sound very clear on this point. Do you think adventuring ... tanking has taken away something of your womanhood?

Kitt: I don’t no. But then I have never entertained notions of my femininity, or womanhood as you call it, being tied to rearing children. I think its quite possible to to kick ass, to elect not to have children and be deeply feminine.

Osha: That’s a big statement. 

Kitt: Is it? I don’t think so. It’s my reality as I live it.

Osha: What does your husband think of your choices?

Kitt: He must like them well enough to marry me. But you’d have to ask him yourself. His opinions are his own - and wouldn’t change my choices or decisions either way.  He is, by the way, a tank himself.

Osha: Ooo you’re feisty! I like it! So paladin .. your tank of choice - was this tied to your relationship with the Sultana and Ul’dah?

Kitt: Not at all. The Sultana of course graciously allowed my training, but apart from that, my services and allegiances are mine own, directed by the needs of my work, not politics.  

Osha: Would you care to speak to the perception of paladins being exceptionally “good”? 

Kitt: You mean morally or some such I presume?

Osha: Well, I think paladins are understood to be guided by principles which are almost dare I say ... holy?

Kitt: Dear gods ... 

Osha: You disagree?

Kitt; No. I agree, the class appears to have this “lawful good” “altruistic” do-gooder” image attached to it in a very obvious manner that warriors and Dark Knights easily sidestep. I’m not a fan. 

Osha: Oh my.

Kitt: I am a paladin because for me, its the best tank choice. It fits with my philosophical and pragmatic leanings - the preemptive thing not the morality pseudo religious thing ... and also I feel the choice makes sense for my body - I am not a big woman.

Osha: No you certainly are not.

Kitt: I think there’s still this idea that people of smaller stature do not make good tanks. This is a racial issue as well, consider Lalafell tanks, or some of the very dainty female Au Ra tanks currently dominating the Eorzean tanking space ...

Osha: You raise a good point. I of course wouldn’t dream of going anywhere near a battle field but if I did, I fancy a nice big Roegadyn lad tanking would make me feel more secure ..

Kitt: More secure than say a petite Miqo’te woman?

Osha: Kitt are you mocking me?!

Kitt: A little perhaps, but only in the nicest way possible. A good tank has to consider their strengths and weaknesses and accommodate them appropriately. My tanking style is preemptive and defensive. I adore the utility paladin skills bring to party and battle. It is quite simply the best tanking class ... for me. 

Osha:  Your reputation certainly speaks to your considerable skill ... but are you suggesting warriors and dark knights are lesser tanks?

Kitt: If I did they’d be fighting words. After all, we choose our class because we love it, or I hope that is why others choose it. I love mine. I have trained as a Dark Knight and a warrior and whilst I appreciate many things about their skills and abilities, I am as loyal to my tanking class as I am to my husband - and that is loyal indeed!

Osha: So no change in tanking class predicted in your future? 

Kitt: Highly unlikely. I love being a paladin. I think its an incredible skill set to wield and I am proud of the dedication I have committed to mastering its nuances. 

Osha: One last question for you Kitt?

Kitt: Absolutely?

Osha: Apart from your considerable tanking skills, you are also known to be a woman of style. Some have commented on your use of cosmetics and refusal to ahem, trim your claws...

Kitt: I believe in fashion. I believe people perform better when they look and feel good. I have a strong, well developed sense of style, yes. I insist on comfort as well as fashion. I could wax poetic about this topic, however suffice it to say my use of a bit of lipstick or eyeliner does not compromise my skill nor has it lost me a battle.

As for clipping my claws. Oh hell no, baby. No. 

Osha: Kitt you are delightful! I wish we could continue, however, we’ve run out of time! May I just thank you so very much for your candor and charm. It’s been a true pleasure.

Kitt: The pleasure is all mine.