#fat turret

[remylion]

fat turret

i need yall to ignore the fact i change the way i drw atlas and pbody every 5 seconds im trying to get used to their complicated designs xdd

[yakkyrwhackr]

hello portal fandom can we name the fat turret gilbert

[kasperzinfected]

i am a firm believer in italian GLaDOS/Caroline

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Dandelion (A Villain Story)

You stub your toe and the mind control breaks.

Your power snaps from the shock and the hundred or so clones you’d been controlling disappear with a pop! You hold your breath as the steel they’d been carrying clangs loudly in the cavernous room. You’re the only one in this sector but that was loud. If by some miracle nobody heard that, surely your abductor will notice you’re free any moment now—

Devil Eyes doesn’t notice.

You cover your mouth with both hands, pressing so hard that your teeth creak. There’s a hysterical giggle struggling to claw its way up your throat. You’ve been shot, stabbed, and beaten, but this is what it takes to break Devil Eyes’ control? Your pinky toe throbbing after kicking a stray steel beam?

Fuck, that’s funny.

You breathe in through your nose slowly. Only when your lungs hurt worse than your toe from how much air you’re holding in them do you release your mouth. You breathe out in six quick bursts. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

You’re free.

Holy shit, you’re free! How long has it been? Six months? Eight? You know it’s not summer anymore, but Devil Eyes has had you working in the depths of his lair for weeks now and you’ve lost track of time. That’s fine though, you’re pretty sure you’re still in Arizona and there’s sunshine even in winter. Your breath hitches in your chest. The sun! Oh, the sun, you want to see the sun so bad and now you can because you’re free--

Don’t cry. Don’t make a sound. Assess. Act.

Escape.

You’re in the delivery sector. There are piles of steel everywhere you look, tossed this way and that so that it looks like a giant failed game of Jenga. Your clones were carrying the beams from the truck in the docking bay to the appropriate facilities deeper into the mountain when they disappeared. Ha! Fat chance Devil Eyes finishes construction without you around. You’re the only reason this mountain lair is even possible. It would serve him right to spend so long stealing materials only to have nobody around to do the hard work for him.

That’s why I need to escape.

Spite is what keeps you moving. The truck driver is gone. He’s a real minion of Devil Eyes, not a brainwashed one like you. That means he’s probably in the living sector enjoying the benefits of willing servitude. Benefits like soda. And beds. And those little pillow mints they give you at hotels.

Your mouth waters.

Don’t you dare go back for a pillow mint, you scold yourself. It doesn’t matter how bad you’ve been craving one, forced to set them out and never allowed to eat one. You have the chance to escape and you’re going to take it.

You climb into the cab of the truck. The driver took his keys with him, but you’re a villain. You have the engine turning over in less than five minutes, the bed of the truck detached within three, the seat and mirrors adjusted in less than one.

Ten minutes after stubbing your toe, you’re driving out of the mountain and into the deepest of Arizona nights. Nobody sounds any alarms. Nobody starts shooting at you. How could they? You were the one manning the graveyard shift in the security room. You were the one at the turrets. You were the one doing it all while Devils Eyes and his crew slept.

The stars stretch above you. You crack the windows of the truck and suck in the fresh air greedily. Your eyes burn.

Not yet, you think. Your eyes smart and you bite your lip until the lump in your throat goes away. Not yet. As a villain, you’ve always made it a point not to let your guard down until the job is done.

This job isn’t anywhere near done.

----------,

Getting into one of Hero Force’s headquarters is either the best thing to happen to a villain or the worst.

Breaking into one is a badge of honor, especially if you’re able to get away with a trophy. Information, a hostage, even a paperclip. Anything that proves you were there and they couldn’t stop you from doing whatever you wanted.

Getting taken into Headquarters is a nightmare. It means you’ve been caught and caught good. Getting taken into Headquarters means the end of a masked villain’s career. Hero Force knows who you are from that point on and, even if you escape, they’re not going to lose track of you any time soon.

You’re not sure what walking into one is. A disgrace? An act of stupidity?

You park your truck illegally and push both doors open at the same time just a little after sunrise.

“Hello,” you say to the receptionist. He’s wearing the characteristic black mask of Hero Force personnel and you wait until his brown eyes shift from his computer to you before continuing. "I’ve been held captive by the villain Devil Eyes for the last six or eight months and I’d like to talk to somebody about it.”

“Pardon?” the receptionist asks. His fingers are frozen over his keyboard. “You—pardon?”

“I don’t know what month it is,” you say. Abruptly you realize you’re not wearing a mask. A chill shudders down your spine. Devil Eyes knows what you look like and now Hero Force does too. You are so fucked, you’re going to need to flee the country-- Think about it later. “So I don’t know how long I was brainwashed for.”

“Brainwashed?”

“By Devil Eyes,” you say. When the receptionist continues to stare at you, you shift your weight from side to side. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but is there someone higher up I could speak to?”

It turns out there is. The receptionist is only too happy to call them for you and things move very quickly after that.

They take you to the fifth floor of headquarters and into a very nice conference room. The receptionist brings you coffee, water, and a fresh change of clothes. He doesn’t bring you pillow mints when you ask but makes up for it by fishing out a crushed granola bar from the inner pocket of his blazer.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” you say. Crumbs tumble from your lips and onto the oak table. “Fuck.�� You lick your fingers and pick them up as best you can, scooping them into your mouth as you go.

“We’ll have something delivered,” he says, eyes skittering away from you. “It’ll probably arrive before Arctic—”

“No, it won’t.”

You twist in your seat, granola bar stuffed in your cheeks. Arctic is standing in the doorway in full costume, sans cape. Her slate grey eyes study you a moment before she steps into the room. Rag Doll, her second in command, follows silently behind. Unlike his boss, he’s half in his civvies– jeans and long-sleeved Henley that shows off the extra joints in his arms and legs. His patchwork mask does little to hide the bags under his eyes.

“Ma’am,” the receptionist says. He’s flustered in the presence of the A-rank heroes, you can see it. He sketches out a bow and then seems to think better of it, jerking ramrod straight and shuffling towards the door. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Arctic watches him go with one pale brow raised.

As soon as the door shuts, Rag Doll sighs. “It’s his first day.”

“He didn’t get their name, did not relay a proper history, and called me ma’am,” Arctic says in her heavy drawl. She frowns and smooths her white hair away from her face. “That’s three strikes.”

“Wait until he watches all the HR videos before you start handing out strikes.”

“He should have finished those before he was stationed at the front door.” Arctic strides around the table and takes the seat at the head without looking at you. She pulls out a notebook from her utility belt, flipping to a blank page, and then finally looks at you. “Do you need another granola bar?”

Oh. She was stalling until you could finish eating. A smile comes to your face unbidden. “I missed your southern charm, Arctic.”

Arctic drops her pen.

Rag Doll, halfway into his seat, freezes. He stares at you with wide eyes. “Virus?”

Oh yeah. You used to compliment Arctic’s Southern manners a lot before Devil Eyes got you. “Long time no see.”

“Long time—it’s been a year,” Rag Doll says incredulously.

“You look awful,” Arctic says without a bit of manners to be found.

“A year?” The room swims. Since the wallpaper kind of reminds you of bile anyway it’s no surprise what happens next. “Fuck.”

You throw up.

------------------.

“I was going on the straight and narrow,” you’re saying an hour later. You’re in a different conference room, this one on the third floor. The walls are a nice, soothing blue and there’s a vanilla air freshener plugged into the wall. “I really was.”

“You’ve been with Devil Eyes this whole time?” Rag Doll asks. He’s seated across from you, leaning forward onto his elbows. He’d stopped Arctic from putting the power suppressors on you. She agreed when he pointed out they might kill you in your fragile state. “There’s never been any indication he can hold someone that long.”

“Well, he can,” you say. You wordlessly accept the tea Arctic slides across the table. The heat of it shocks you in the best way. You drink greedily, relishing in the warmth as it slides down your throat. “And not just one person. He could hold me and five of my clones at first. Then ten. Then twenty.”

“But your clones are you,” Arctic says. She refuses to sit, standing behind Rag Doll. She crosses her arms. “It’s impressive he was able to hold you that long, but it was just you.”

“Impressive?” You laugh without humor. “I’m not exactly impressed.”

“She didn’t mean anything by it,” Rag Doll says. He looks over his shoulder at Arctic and, when she nods, he continues. “It’s just that, from what we know about your powers, holding you and your clones would be the same as holding one person.”

“It’s not,” you say. You’re giving away too much information about your powers, but you don’t care. Devil Eyes needs to be stopped. “Every one of my clones is an exact replica of me. An exact autonomous replica of me. Otherwise, I’d have to be some sort of supercomputer to control them all.”

“You’re not?” Rag Doll asks. His voice is light, like it used to be during your fights. Teasing banter.

You’re not in the mood for banter.

“No,” you say shortly. “If I was, I wouldn’t have been caught.”

Rag Doll sobers. “How did that happen?”

“I was getting out of the game,” you say. You wipe the back of your mouth. The tea is sitting better than the granola bar, but you’re still feeling unsteady. You clear your throat. “I should have just disappeared, but I didn’t. I let a few of the locals know I was going to be leaving. Stupid of me. Stupider when I agreed to come to the goodbye party they were throwing.”

“Locals?” Arctic asks. Her voice is smooth and cold. “Which locals?”

You shrug. “Dreadwatt. The Ice Twins were in town back then, they said they’d stop by.” Your lip curls. “Devil Eyes.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very fun party,” Rag Doll says.

“No.” You didn’t think so either. But how do you explain that they were the only people who thought your low-level villainy meant something? Heroes and civilians just found your antics annoying. Villains found your schemes clever. “It was a way to mark the end of an era.”

“What were you going to do after?” Rag Doll asks.

Were. You can’t get mad at the past tense. You’re sitting in Hero Headquarters without a mask. Arctic has probably memorized every single one of your freckles. Even if she hasn’t, Devil Eyes knows your face. There’s no way you get to retire to an honest life now. “I was going to be a librarian.”

Rag Doll perks up. “You like to read? What genre?”

“Mostly science fiction.”

“Me too! Have you read—”

“Devil Eyes got you at the party?” Arctic interrupts. She shoots Rag Doll a chiding look and claims the seat next to him. She fixes you with her chilling gaze. “That right?”

“Yeah.” You don’t remember the moment it happened. That’s the scariest part. It took you weeks to be able to feel Devil Eyes’ control. Until then, everything still felt like your choice. “He had me start construction on his lair about a month after that. He was sure his control would hold by then.”

That makes Arctic lean forward. “His new lair? You’ve been there?”

You grin bitterly. “I’m the one who dug it out.”

“Dug it out? It’s underground?”

“Some of it.”

“Where?” Arctic flips open her notepad. “We know it’s east of the city and, judging by the truck you arrived in, it’s in the deep desert. Can you give us coordinates?”

“I’m pretty good with stars,” you say. Even now you can remember the exact position of them the moment you left the mountain. “I know exactly where it is.”

Arctic can’t hide the impatience in her voice. “Where?”

“Not so fast,” you say. You lean back, crossing your arms. Your heart pounds against your ribs. “I want a deal.”

Arctic snarls. “You don’t understand what’s at stake—”

Rag Doll puts a hand on her arm, quieting her. He smiles at you. “Now, Virus, you know—”

“Don’t call me that.”

Rag Doll blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t call me Virus,” you say. Your skin itches and you dig your nails into your arms to keep from scratching. Devil Eyes called you Virus. “I retired. I’m not Virus.”

“Then what would you like us to call you?”

Your mind scatters. “I don’t know. Not that.”

“Alright,” Rag Doll says gently. He waits a moment and, when you don’t offer up anything else, says, "You know we can't offer immunity agreements. Foresight would have to be here for that and we don’t have time for him to fly down from New York. What I can do—”

“I don’t want immunity,” you interrupt.

“You don’t?”

“You don’t?” Arctic echoes. She frowns, seemingly shaking off her impatience. “You’ll still be charged with your previous crimes, Viru—sorry. You’ll still be charged with your previous crimes.”

“That’s fine.” It’s not. You rub your arms, fingertips worrying at the half moon indents your nails bit into your skin. It’s the price you’re willing to pay to take down Devil Eyes. “That’s fine. I’ll pay for those. But I want to be there when you raid his lair. I want to be there when you catch him.”

“That’s too dangerous,” Rag Doll says immediately. He shakes his head. “Arctic and I both have mental defenses, but you don’t. We know your power and now, knowing the extent of it, we can’t risk having him turn you again. It’d be like facing an army—”

“You’ll need an army against him,” you interrupt again. You press a hand against your chest. “I know how many minions he has. I know the layout. I know the location. You need me.”

“But if he gains control of you again—”

“He can only control twenty of me,” you say. You’re feverish and jittery so you stand. You pound your hand against your chest. “Only twenty, so I’ll be a hundred of me. I’ll be so many that those he manages to ensnare won’t stand a chance against the rest. I can do it. I can be more than he can handle. He got the jump on me but he won’t again.”

Arctic furrows her brow. “A hundred? You can make that many clones?”

You laugh darkly. You weren’t a good villain. Your goals were always too small. Robbing a grocery store, taking over the local theater, stealing the water from the water tower. They don’t know what you can do. “I can do more than you know. I can do more than Devil Eyes knows.”

Silence fills the room as the heroes think. The air freshener sprays a new puff of vanilla.

Rag Doll clears his throat. “If we let you come—”

“Rag Doll!”

“—if ,” Rag Doll emphasizes to Arctic. To you he says, “You won’t kill anyone?”

Of course I’m going to— “No,” you say. You cross your fingers under the table. “It’s just….” You look down at the wood grain. You say in a small voice, “I had to escape alone.”

Whatever protest Arctic was about to voice dies on her lips. “There were others there?” Her gaze sharpens, a bloodhound on a scent. “Who? Where?”

Aha. You guessed right. Arctic is patient. Arctic is polite. She’s been neither of those things during this conversation. What she has been is impatient and demanding. Devil Eyes has someone Arctic cares about. Devil Eyes might even have a hero from Arctic’s team.

“I didn’t see them,” you whisper. You glance up from under your lashes to find the heroes hanging onto your every word. “But I know where he keeps them.” You bite your lip. “I—I shouldn’t have left them there. I know what it’s like being under his control. I know what he does.” You sit upright, meeting their eyes unflinchingly. “I want to save them. I’ll pay for my crimes after, I swear. I won’t run. But Devil Eyes needs to be stopped.” You let your voice crack. “Please. I need to help stop him.”

Arctic softens. “Virus—sorry. Please, is there anything else I can call you?”

Your lip trembles. “My mother called me Dandelion.”

“Dandelion,” Arctic says. “That’s lovely. Dandelion, I understand how you feel. I don’t think—”

Rag Doll stops her with a hand on her arm. “Arctic? Can we talk in the hall?”

“Of course.”

You watch the heroes leave the room. As soon as the door closes, your lip stops trembling. Your shoulders straighten. Your eyes stop glistening.

Rag Doll and Arctic will argue for ten minutes. You’re a former villain and, despite your lack of real villainy in your history, you can’t be trusted. You know Devil Eyes’ hideout, but you’re also fresh out from his control. You’re powerful, but that power can be turned against them.

But those arguments will only last ten minutes. The reality is that they don’t have a choice. You're not going to give them the location without being allowed to tag along. They don’t have time to wait for Foresight or even the Mind Squad who specialize in dealing with mental powers like Devil Eyes’. They’re heroes and the villain has one of their own. They have to act.

You settle back in your chair. They’ll agree to your terms. Your stomach twists. It’s nauseating to think about going back there. A year. Devil Eyes stole a year from you.

You hide your grin as the door opens.

“Alright. Let’s get you kitted out. You’re coming with us, Dandelion.”

You’ll be stealing a lot more from him.

Then instead of crying, maybe you’ll be laughing.

Only one way to find out.

--------

Thanks for reading! I love mind powers in the Superhero universe but they sure are a pain to write!

If you’d like to read stories like this or like others on my blog a week before I post them here, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)

Next week’s story is already up! Summary:

Sometimes, when things go very wrong, the Chosen One gets a wish. That’s where Danielle comes in. TW blood, death, violence, child death

Thanks again for reading!

[sugar--brown]

It's one am so I can ramble semi-coherently! My current obsession: Glad0s, Chell and Caroline.

Look. I know that half of the community is fully onboard with the ship Chelldos. While the other half is more hyped the Glados is Caroline and Caroline is Chell's mother.

But! Hear me out. As an aroace who craves hurt/comfort and fluff, I have an alternative.

Caroline is both Chell's AND Glados' mom.

I mean... come on! I love the headcanon of Chell being adopted by Cave and Caroline (or at least Caroline) and become a test subject later. And the insults Glados is throwing at Chell remind me a lot of my own banters with my sibling: you are fat, you are stupid, you are adopted, I do everything in this house, I better than you, do this and I will give you my cake... Plus, the fact that Caroline is part of what makes Glados Glados and is her moral, it's very motherly themed.

So here's where I am currently in the wonderful world of headcanons:

Chell is left on Aperture Science's doorstep as a baby and Caroline decided to adopt her with the help of Cave because a woman without a man couldn't adopt a kid back then. Cave is pretty the absent father while Caroline is the overworked but loving mom. Chell grew up in a very smart lady since she was raised showered with Science.

When Cave died, Chell just reached her majority and is tricked by the scientists to enter the testing program since Caroline would have done everything to keep her away of that with how many deaths there were. She was put into crypsleep the same day her mother was put into Glados.

While Chell is asleep, Glados as a sentient being was slowly built with ai code, Caroline's presence into her system and a lot of unfair punishments from the scientists. Especially since they thought Caroline died since she didn't manifest as herself in Glados' body. The truth is that Glados blocked her the moment they started putting cores on her, treating all of it as parasites.

Portal 1 and 2 happens. And Glados, not forced by the mainframe to act as cruel and sadistic and without the power to keep Caroline away, the woman started to fuse with Glados' mind. Of course, Glados didn't like that. And she deleted Caroline.

Here comes my theory! Little disclaimer: I don't say any other interpretation is wrong. I don't shame people who ship Chelldos. I don't think what I'm going to say is canon.

For me, the opera turret is not sung vy Glados since she has her little ending credits song. No. The voice actor of Glados, Ellen McLain, interprets another character here: Caroline.

My idea is that Glados can't delete Caroline, this is the opposite of why she was built in the first place. I think she deleted her link to her to stop her for invading her mind, giving her full freedom in the Aperture's system. And Caroline sings for her first daughter as a finale goodbye, controlling the turrets. (I think Caroline was the one controlling the Oracle turret too, how would it know all about Caroline then?).

I would love to see (or write) more fluff about Caroline being set free and takkng care of both her daughters.

Chell is Caroline's daughter because Caroline adopted her and raised her.

Glados is Caroline's daughter because part of who she is as a sentient beingcomes from Caroline and Caroline gave her a moral compass like a mother would educate her child.

I love these women so much!

[karikitdemonrp]

Cont. from [X] starter for @beesbacktalk​

Time had passed since that whole ordeal with Mrs. Smith and the secret agents that accused the autobots of kidnapping Kari. The child had been looked over by medical professionals and was examined just incase before being given the choice of where she wanted to stay.

Kari obviously chose to stay with her new family, the autobots. She had a lot to learn about herself and much more to discover. She still had no idea of her origins but was getting better at honing her abilities. Today the child was training under the watchful eye of her older brother figure Bumblebee and whoever else wanted to watch.

Kari skid to a stop after destroying a few training turrets, having cleaved through them using her insane speed and a set of blades made from what she thought was metal and minerals from her inner body, but the bots knew better though avoided telling her the truth for many reasons.

Kari, now wheezing and panting, stood up straight and stretched up then moving to wipe the sweat off her forehead. She was wearing a loose navy blue tanktop and some baggy black sweat pants with a gray drawstring tied in a bow to make sure they didn’t fall during training. Her body was still frail and weak from how she was treated in the past but she was definitely doing better, having a bit of muscle and fat building up, not much but it was noticeable.

Also noticeable were the numerous scars that adorned the child’s body, usually they were covered, and most were still hidden, but the ones on her upper body that were usually hidden by her shirt sleeves were on full display. She was always self-conscious about them and still was but hid her feelings about them as best as she could until she was alone.

Aside from her simple training outfit she wore her scarf as always and a sort of metallic arm band on her left upper arm that helped keep an eye on her abilities during training. Her feet had simple bandages wrapped around the middle section of her feet in a messy manner.

All in all, Kari was starting to blossom and grow a lot in her new environment. The child looked up at Bumblebee and the others watching, giving a smile and chirping out a weak; “h-ho-ow... da-t?” Between breaths, moving to grab a tablet of sorts that had been sitting safely away from the training area and typing up more of her message, having it shown via hologram.

[”I’m still not sure how they exactly work, but I’m starting to get a feel for my abilities I think.”]

[remylion]

wife turret and animal king turret my beloved

[s-a-u-l-o-f-t-a-r-s-u-s]

gays claim to have superior taste in music but then they stan kim petras and completely ignore the fat opera turret from portal 2

[poledancingdinos]

Hostile Territory - Chapter 9

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Leah Coleman)

Word count: 2.4K

Warnings: none for this chapter

Catch up: Series Masterlist

Taglist: @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha​ @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @elizabetharegina @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos  @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @identity2212 @liecastillo @lena-banena @mrsevans90 @confessionbrain-writings @eclecticfashionbookszipper

Masterlist

Day 108

Eating in the destroyed hamlet had become a repeated practice for Leah and the team after their second visit. They had volunteered to perform biweekly sweeps to confirm no enemy elements had returned but they also stopped whenever they could get away with it. If anyone found out they’d repeatedly broken protocol, the team could be in serious trouble.

The boys never came in but the pup could always be found in the shed where it had made its den. After the third visit, the pup had stopped growling at Leah. By the fifth visit, the poor filthy thing willingly approached Leah, sniffing her pockets and hands for food. On the tenth visit, Leah managed to coax it into the humvee.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ethan’s alarmed voice boomed from behind her.

“Ingratiating myself with the Captain.”

“Is this bitch for real?” Jeremiah stage whispered to Ben, earning himself a middle finger from the woman in question.

For a moment, the four boys stood unblinking. They were in a sort of five way staring contest with the canine invading the backseat of their humvee.

“Fuck it, we could use a happy face around base.”

Ethan gaped at Benjie, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Benjie just shrugged, as if to say “why not”. From the look on Leah’s face, he had a feeling Sy wouldn’t be the only one to benefit from having a dog around. If he was honest, he dreaded every time they came to the hamlet because he always feared that this time would be the one where Leah came back from the shed in tears. He didn’t know how the dog managed to scavenge for food but he was damn glad it did.

“Fine… but I sure as shit am not getting anywhere near that mini wolf. You take back the turret and I’ll ride in the truck with Jer.”

Leah snorted in amusement, leaning her weight on one leg and crossing her arms. Ethan had a bit of a fear of animals. He was a big city boy through and through. Leah was pretty sure he would duck if a fat pigeon flew too close to his head. It was going to be fun watching him squirm whenever the “mini wolf” licked his hand or jumped up to ask for attention.

“So, if Coleman’s busy smuggling in the dog,” Rohan jumped in, “who’s gonna tell Cap?”

Shit. She hadn’t thought of that.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Sy demanded when Ethan and Jeremiah reported to his office for debriefing. “We expected you back over an hour ago and your sergeant was exceptionally vague as to the reason your ETA was pushed back.”

He’d been stuck with a desk full of paperwork since he’d gotten up that morning and it had put him in a particularly sour mood. There was a reason desk duty was used as a punishment around base.

“Coleman needed us to stop off on the return trip, Sir.”

The Captain’s face immediately changed from stern to worried, his head shooting up from the after action report he’d been reading. “Is she alright?”

About a million thoughts were suddenly running through his mind. Was she sick? Hurt? Had it come on out of nowhere or had he sent her out while she was feeling unwell?

“Oh, yeah, Coleman is fine,” Jeremiah said dismissively which did nothing but make Sy more concerned. He had the distinct feeling that they were hiding something.

“So the supply run went well?” Sy asked, attempting to get some sort of clarification from the two men.

It was Ethan who answered his question. “Of course. You know us, we handle our own even when things get a little rough.”

Beside him, Jeremiah choked down the urge to laugh.

Sy frowned at both men, beginning to lose his patience with their roundabout method of answering questions. Which was it? Had things gone well or had they been rough? He wasn’t in the habit of complaining that people didn’t talk enough but in this one instance, he would have appreciated a more detailed answer.

“Where is Sergeant Fuller? He should be the one debriefing.”

“He followed Coleman to her bunk.”

Sy stood from his chair, resting both hands on the desk. “You just said she was alright.”

Something was definitely wrong, why else would Ben be in her room? Ever since Nielsen had given her a hard time about seeing Sy go into her room, she never let anyone in there.

“And she is, Sir,” Jeremiah repeated. “We may work ourselves to the bone but we take care of our teammates.”

“I ain’t got time for this shit." He was just going to have to get the full story from Leah and Ben directly. “You’re dismissed,” Sy grumbled, pushing past the boys towards the door but they followed close behind.

“Aw, don’t be like that, Sy, you’re in for a treat!”

“I’d ask what’s going on with you two knuckleheads but I’m not sure I really wanna know. Now get your asses outta here and go unload that truck before I write you boys up for whatever the hell this is,” he called over his shoulder.

“You may say that, but you’re all bark and no bite.”

At Jeremiah’s comment, Sy froze, finally catching on to their little joke. That couldn’t be right, could it? Instead of pressing them for further information, Sy sprinted up the stairs three at a time then down the hall until he finally reached the door to Leah’s room where he found Rohan standing guard.

“Are you gonna be the one to finally tell me what the fuck is going on?”

He just needed to hear someone say it—to know for sure.

“All I can say is that I’m under strict orders to not let anyone but you in.” Rohan looked down, digging through his side pocket. “And to give you these.”

Too shocked to form words, Sy remained completely silent as Rohan dropped the items in his hand before he disappeared. For a long moment, he simply stared at the half dozen peanut butter packets before tentatively pushing the door open. With one hand still on the doorknob, Sy’s gaze locked with two big brown eyes.

“Coleman…”

When he’d first seen it, Sy had thought the dog was just under a year old. Now, however, he could see that his guess had been way off. There was a dirty towel in the corner that Leah must have used to clean its fur, revealing the tan color on its face, chest and belly. He’d seen enough K9 units in his day to know that was a german shepherd staring back at him. A very young, emaciated german shepherd puppy.

Sensing he was no longer needed, Ben stood from the floor where he sat next to Leah. “I’ll go help the boys unload the supplies,” he said, sneaking past Sy.

“Don’t just stand there, Cap, shut the door.”

Moving like he was in a trance, Sy slipped into the room and leaned back against the closed door.

“Good, now sit down, put the peanut butter on the palm of your hand and try to ignore her.”

Sy fell to his ass, keeping his gaze on the pup. “Explain. Now. What the fuck is he doing here?”

“She,” Leah corrected. When Sy remained frozen, still awaiting an explanation, Leah slid closer, tearing open one of the packets and squeezing the contents onto Sy’s open hand. “We’ve sort of been sneaking to the village over the last few weeks. I got her to trust me enough to come back by training her to recognize peanut butter as meaning ‘good’.”

Slowly, with her body low to the ground, the puppy ventured out of the corner, her wet, black nose twitching as it followed the scent of the tasty treat in Sy’s hand.

He should have given her shit for sneaking around and being so reckless but he was more than a little distracted by a certain four-legged creature.

He was sure that the only reason she had survived was because Leah had cared enough to go back and take care of her. It made Sy hope that maybe it wasn’t only the dog that Leah cared for.

He couldn’t help but remember that Leah had gone looking for him that day. That she’d stayed with him to feed the pup even if they both knew she would most likely not survive.

“Try not to look at her, it’ll keep her from feeling threatened.”

He pried his eyes away, his gaze shifting to Leah. It was funny, there were only two things he wanted in his life—two things he wanted but wasn’t allowed to have—and both of them were in that room with him. Despite knowing it was wrong, it felt so right.

After what felt like forever, the pup’s tongue darted out, hungrily lapping at Sy’s ticklish palm. He tried to hide it but Leah didn’t miss the fond smile that pulled at his lips.

“You know we can’t keep her here.” It broke his heart to say it but it was the truth.

“Why not? It happens all the time on bigger bases. There are stories all over the Internet about soldiers befriending dogs in war torn countries and finding ways to bring them home. The biggest problem is that you can’t move the dogs if you move bases.”

That was true. As far as he knew, they weren’t going anywhere any time soon. He wanted to let Leah keep her so badly that it was hard to be the voice of reason. It was especially hard knowing that, if they put her back onto the street, she would either get shot, blown up, or starve. Unfortunately, he had to be a captain first and a dog lover second. Even if she was currently crawling on his lap and sniffing every part of him she could reach.

“I can’t let you keep a stray as a pet. You know damn well all the others will be tryin’ to do the same just to one up you. What do we do when the camp is overrun with litter after litter of stray puppies?”

Dammit. Apparently the pup had finished exploring and had decided that his lap was a good place to nap. Why did she have to be so cute? It would almost have been better if she’d turned out to actually be feral. Then he wouldn’t have been the one to cause her death by releasing her into the town.

“That’s why you should keep her. Everyone already knows you like dogs, just say she snuck in to search for food and that you wanna keep her within the camp gates.”

That… wasn’t a bad idea. No one but him and Leah had gotten a good look at her all those weeks back so no one would know the difference between her and any other stray around. Well, besides Leah’s team but those guys would go to the ends of the earth for her. If they kept the pup within the gates it would keep her from being mistaken for wild and it would prevent anyone from shooting her by mistake.

“How did you manage this anyway?”

Sy needed an extra moment to think everything through.

“My dad, he used to bring dogs home to foster. He always said we couldn’t have our own but every few months the shelter would give him a call. My dad was especially good with the aggressive ones so when they got dogs that were considered unsuitable for adoption, my dad would put in the ground work and see if we could rehabilitate them enough to give them a fighting chance.”

There was a hint of something sad in her tone as she stared at the scrawny shepherd. He could imagine that an endeavor like that didn’t always end well. It was really admirable though. It took a special kind of person to give an animal one more shot when everyone else was ready to give up and put it down.

“He sounds like my kind of man.”

Leah swallowed thickly, pulling the tie out of her hair and brushing it out with her fingers. He’d seen her do that the last time he was in her room—well, closet. She was always pretty but having her hair down gave a certain softness to her features that he rarely had the chance to see.

“Yeah, I bet he would have been.”

Fuck. That was why she was sad.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…”

She shook her head, not looking up from where she still played with her hair.

“Don’t worry, it was a long time ago.”

“Don’t mean it don’t hurt.”

It was his turn to look away. He slowly moved his hand over the pup’s neck. She was going to need a bath if she stayed with them. Her fur was still dusty and matted in some places. When she didn’t react to the touch, his hand slipped lower, resting on her chest. The slow rise and under his palm as she snoozed felt oddly comforting.

“Who was it?” she whispered.

“Every soldier I’ve lost who was under my command.”

He’d never lost someone close—thank whatever god was out there—but he did lose good men and it never got easier. There were always those nagging questions: Could he have done something more? Should he have done something differently? Was it something he did that caused their death?

He cleared his throat. “So, she got a name yet?”

Leah was as grateful as Sy for the change in topic and gladly turned the focus back to the canine.

“Nope. You got any suggestions?”

He did. He had many of them in fact. When his sister had first gotten pregnant she’d bought one of those baby name books. He’d once stayed with her while he was on leave and one night, when he couldn’t sleep, he’d picked up the book and read through each page until he was bored enough to let his eyes fall shut.

“Aika. I’m callin’ her Aika.”

Chapter 10

[florencemtrash]

The Wisp Between Worlds

CHAPTER FOUR: THE FOX AND THE HIGH LORD

Acotar fanfic/rewrite. Inner Circle x OC. Eventual Azriel x OC.

Summary: Have you ever wondered what you would do (and do differently) if you found yourself trapped in the fantasy world of your dreams? For Nora, this fantasy of hers is about to play out when she finds herself portaled away to the Moral Lands south of Prythian. But all is not as it seems. Feyre Archeron is missing and the deadline to break Amarantha’s curse draws near. Who will save Prythian now?

Warnings: None for this chapter 

Masterlist

*Let me know if you would like to join the taglist*

________________

Nora had to endure horseback riding for another hour, sweat dripping down her back and clinging to her clothes, before she finally felt them slow down. The mask slipped off her face like water, dropping to the grass and immediately springing up into a rosebush. 

Nora gasped at the minor display of magic.

The ground was swollen with the blossoms of spring - marigolds, peonies, hydrangeas, lilies, and roses drifting along in a floral sea. Marble fountains of horned and hoofed creatures carrying instruments were carefully laid out in the garden, carved with such a careful hand that when she dismounted and crawled onto the fountain ledge she could make out their eyelashes. 

Nora dared to touch the wrist of a forest nymph who spilled crystal clear water from her jar. She was smoother than freshly waxed glass.

Tamlin’s estate was sprawled out comfortably amidst the vibrant rolling hills, as fat and happy as the bumblebees that drowsily floated from flower to flower. Blood red roses and emerald green vines dripped down the manor’s alabaster walls and turret roofs, pooling beneath the balconies and windows so that anyone who let the wind in would be greeted with their intoxicating scent.

Tamlin made his way towards the manor without a word. 

Nora hurried after him with awkward strides as her knees and thighs re-acquainted themselves with standing on solid ground. She was in desperate need of a bath and rest.

The faint click of Tamlin’s claws on the checkered floors echoed throughout the empty hall. Nora could hardly breathe, worried that the mere sound of her existence would disrupt the wonderment flooding her mind. The black and white marble tiles were polished so thoroughly she caught her reflection looking back at her, dirty and disheveled, and foxgloves hung in bundles from the gilded buttresses, swaying in the breeze like church bells. 

A manor of this size must have had at least one hundred servants to keep it in order, but when Nora strained her ears she was only rewarded with the lonely, echoing silence.

Left at the portrait with the golden bear, right at the next junction with the 6-foot tall elk horn, past the green stained glass windows, then- 

She traced their steps until they reached a set of oakwood doors as tall as the ceiling and thicker than the length of her hand. 

The doors swung open of their own accord, exposing a grand dining room with velvet curtains and a solitary table cut from a tree trunk. 

A fae male sat at the table, russet brown and golden mechanical eyes staring out from behind a fox mask. His hair was as vibrant and warm as a winter fire, offset by his handsome emerald suit jacket and honey-colored skin. The only imperfection he possessed - if it could even be called that - was the scar that dragged through his ruined eye and landed at the corner of his lip like a lightning strike.

Must be Lucien. 

He shot up from the table, golden eye flashing, “Tam, where the hell have you been?”

Tamlin ignored him and made his way around the table. With a flash of light and a groan he collapsed into his rose-engraved chair. Where there had once walked a beast now sat a very beautiful, and very exhausted fae. 

Nora tilted her head to look at him, carefully observing the gold mask that remained frozen in place as he dragged a hand down his face. 

“Tamlin.” Lucien said. He hadn’t noticed the human girl waiting by the dining room threshold, but he was alerted to her presence when Tamlin raised a single finger towards her.

Lucien’s gold eye whirred, the artificial pupil constricting as he turned around and looked at Nora.

“She’s the one that killed Andras?” Surprise and disdain flooded his voice. She was so… human - a poor credit to her species and thin as a reed. He crossed the floor in three strides and glared down at her. She found only disbelief and mild hatred in his face.

He sniffed the air around her and frowned. “She reeks.”

Color flooded into her cheeks, blood turning hot, “It’s almost like I’ve been traveling the last day and a half. Without a meal, might I add.” 

She scowled at Tamlin as he slunk into his seat further and rubbed his temples. Her hunger had flared up with a vengeance on the last leg of their journey and she felt it twist and tug within her. Just because she was used to an empty stomach didn’t mean it felt any more pleasant.

“Go bathe. You can eat after.” Tamiln said with a lazy wave of his hand like she was some dog to be dismissed.

Nora’s scowl deepened. She was hungry now, although she had to admit a bath also sounded heavenly. 

Before she could shoot back a reply a fae slipped into the room from a hidden hallway, bowing deeply to Tamlin before deigning to give Nora a curt nod. This fae was even shorter than her and a female from the looks of her wide hips and soft features, although the gnarled mask of woven branches made it difficult to make out her face. 

She walked to another set of open double doors and clicked her heels together, waiting expectantly for Nora to follow. 

When Nora glanced at Tamlin, it seemed that he’d already forgotten she existed, eyes roaming over the silverware.

You’re a real charmer. Asshole.

Still she followed the female out of the dining room without a fight. She’d save her energy for another day.

“Best to kill her now and be done with it.” She heard Lucien hiss beneath his breath as the doors shut behind them.

The female was ruthless when it came to bathing. Before the bathroom door was even fully shut, she was pulling away at Nora’s clothes with rough, strong hands as callous as tree bark. 

“Wait! No!” Nora grabbed at Dinah’s coat when it was pulled from her shoulders.

“It’s stiff with dust and sweat, child.” The female clicked her tongue, catching sight of the makeshift bandage on Nora’s arm, “And a good deal of blood,” Her voice held the same texture as her hands. “Best to get rid of it.” 

“No.” Nora said. The fae cast a narrow eye at the girl, ancient and impatient, “Please,” She tried again, softening her tone, “It’s the only thing I have from home.”

The girl in front of her could only be eighteen, nineteen at most - young for a human and absolutely fetal for a fae. 

She sighed, “I’ll wash it and return it tonight.” She said from between tight lips. 

The girl deflated with relief, holding onto the ruined fabric for one final moment before she let it pass from her hands.

“...Thank you….” She murmured beneath her breath, grasping for a name.

“Alis.” 

“...Thank you, Alis.” 

The human had more manners that she would have anticipated.

Nora’s face turned bright red when Alis stripped her of her clothes, but the female only clicked her tongue again like one might reprimand a child. 

With the promise that Dinah’s coat would be cared for, Nora let herself sink into the bathtub up to her neck, groaning as the hot water soaked into her skin and eased her aching legs. 

Alis scrubbed away at her skin with honey-scented soap until it turned red and prickled upon touching the air, as though that would remove her human deficiency. But Nora welcomed the faint pain and the sharp nails that scratched without mercy at her scalp and tore away months of hard living. No matter how long she remained in the bath, no matter how clean she became, the water remained clear.

Alis had no shame in nakedness when she pulled the girl from the bath and began rubbing her down in lavender oils and brushed rosewater through her hair. The girl continued to look down at her feet sheepishly, covering parts of herself as Alis went about her business. She had one duty and one duty only - to make the girl appealing enough for the High Lord to court and seduce. Maybe then they’d all be freed from this mess. 

She finished by wrapping up Nora’s arm in fresh linens the same shade as her skin so the wound would be nearly imperceptible beneath the sheer sleeves of her dress.

Nora was delivered back to Tamlin and Lucien like a trussed up turkey - her neat braids complete with green ribbons to match Tamlin’s eyes. She’d been forced into a similarly toned sage-green gown that swished around on the ground behind her.

She twisted her hands together, suppressing the rising disgust in her stomach. These were not clothes she would have picked for herself. These were not clothes that had been made for her - they’d been made for a fae. 

The gossamer sleeves hung past her hands, clearly intended for a creature with longer, more slender limbs. The neckline of the dress similarly dropped too low, exposing much of her chest and leaving her vulnerable and cold.

She wanted Dinah’s coat back. She wanted to sink into the material and slink off into memories of home. Home with Dinah and Jaskiel. Home with her parents. Perhaps Alis’s bath had been a curse - her hard won outer layer seemed to have fizzled away with the lavender bubbles.

The two males froze in their seats, whatever conversation they’d been indulging in forgotten as they took in the sight of her. 

Lucien knocked his elbow into Tamlin’s side, subtly coughing into a closed fist. Tamlin took the hint and stood up, opening his arm towards the empty seat next to him and across from Lucien. 

Nora didn’t want to move. She wanted to disappear into her room and dive into the satin bed sheets that had been calling her name ever since Alis showed her her quarters. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to run. But her eyes narrowed in on the feast laid out before them.

The table was laden with enough food for a holiday party: whole roasted quails smothered in butter with garlic and thyme, fresh baked bread that steamed from the decorative slits cut into the crust, candied oranges piled on a platter next to a moist chocolate walnut cake. 

Nora’s stomach clenched painfully and her hunger won out. 

She awkwardly slid into her seat, dragging layers of tulle behind her. 

When Tamlin leaned across the table and began piling sausages, creamed spinach, bread, and more onto her plate, Nora had to suppress the urge to cringe away.

The bewilderment on her face seemed to please him as he settled back into his seat and began serving himself. Lucien was left to his own devices.

The first bite of honey-roasted walnuts and potatoes hit her tongue, exploding with a taste so bright and powerful she wondered if she had died and gone to heaven. She’d never tasted food so pure and delicious.

Tamlin stared curiously, watching as she slowly lost all sense of propriety and began stuffing her face, but if he was judging her table manners he didn’t show it. 

Lucien coughed, eyes flashing between the pair and Tamlin caught the message, dropping his wine glass onto the table with enough force to grab her attention. 

Her silverware froze above the piece of chicken on her plate, stopping their planned assault. 

Tamlin clenched his jaw, “Your hair…” 

She could see the place where his brain should be trying to formulate a compliment.

“Is clean. And you smell… nice.” He growled out with difficulty.

It wasn’t a lie. Alis had sprayed her down with enough perfume that a blind man would mistake her for a rosebush.

Nora stifled a laugh and Lucien rolled his eyes, bowing his head so that his forehead rested on graceful fingertips.

If Tamlin actually believed she would fall for his half-brained compliment he was proven wrong. Silence settled over them, thick and uncomfortable. 

She didn’t want to speak to them. She didn’t even know how’d she respond. They expected her to be afraid - hell, she was afraid - but she also felt some minor thread of confidence. For the time being she was safe, and she had to make use of that time as best she could to try and prepare for what was coming. Courting a romantic relationship with Tamlin was secondary. For now the best thing she could do was learn everything there was to learn about Prythian and the Human Lands - things that couldn’t be gained by asking too many questions or staying too long at the dinner table.

They must have a library somewhere.

“I would have expected more questions from you.” Lucien commented lazily, pulling Nora abruptly from her thoughts. The wine swished around in his cup, getting dangerously close to spilling over the sides as he narrowed his eyes at the girl, “You’re the first human in decades to step foot in Prythian, and you’re dining with one of the most powerful Hi-”

Tamlin growled in warning, shooting Lucien a glare strong enough to slice through the end of his sentence. 

Lucien cleared his throat, unfazed by the rude interruption, “You’re dining with two powerful High Fae. Surely your little human brain is curious.” 

Nora tapped her foot impatiently beneath the table, mouth twisting to the side in thought. Every parcel of her being was exploding with questions, curiosity threatening to pour out of her skin, but she didn’t want to interrogate them. She didn’t want to play her hand too early if she slipped up and said something she wasn’t supposed to know.

Her silence was mistaken for a resounding no. Lucien sighed as though disappointed but unsurprised, “How typical of humans to think so small.” 

She bristled, her pride wounded and smarting. 

“Excuse my friend,” Tamlin jumped at the opportunity to come to her aid. “He’s not in the best mood right now.” 

“I suppose you know the reason why.” Lucien’s face soured. 

Andras. 

The name hung above their heads.

She had killed his friend. She knew this, but it was too early to apologize for it, as much as she wanted to. So she once again settled for the safe option of staying silent, letting the guilt pool in her stomach and steal away her appetite.

“What exactly am I doing here? What do you want from me?” Nora asked carefully. It was a safe question - an obvious question, “Shall I sweep the floors? Wash the laundry? Be a punching bag for your thinly veiled insults?” She aimed the last question at Lucien and he had the kindness to at least look ashamed of his comment. 

“You are not a prisoner here.” Tamlin said gruffly. Nora raised her eyebrow. “What I mean is, you are here to fulfill the Treaty’s exchange - a life for a life. Apart from that you have no duties. Walk the grounds, explore the manor, or leave my court entirely. I do not care.” 

You most certainly do care. I know you care. 

“But the moment you step foot outside Prythian the deal is off. There will be no protection for you or your family.” 

“Your court?”

Tamlin froze, teeth clamping down on his tongue until he tasted blood. Lucien simply wanted to crumple to the floor in exasperation. It hadn’t even been a full day and Tamlin had already let slip his identity. He saw her mind stir, eyes fidgeting around the room as she put the pieces together. If he wasn’t mistaken, he even saw laughter behind her eyes.

“That’s what you said, isn’t it? You’re not just some high fae, you’re a High Lord.” 

“Yes.” He gritted out. His knuckles had turned white.

She thought for a long while before hesitantly asking, “So I truly may do as I wish here? You won’t kill me?”

“Yes, and no.”

Tamlin sensed the hesitation in her body before her scent slowly shifted to hope and curiosity. She’d have the run of the manor and for the first time since coming to this world she’d have access to books and music and good food.

Images of Dinah and Jaskiel flashed through her mind: Jaskiel limping to his chair after a long day of scribbling out sums in exchange for pennies, Dinah coming home with raw hands after hours of lime washing a local lord’s floors. Older images that she had buried in her heart also rose to the surface: Mom and Dad setting up the table for three before realizing she wouldn’t be coming home, Mom and Dad taking the long drive around town so they wouldn’t have to pass by the boardwalk. 

This manor was but a beautiful prison, and Nora had so far been treated like a doll to be dressed up and seduced by an incompetent Tamlin. She was painfully aware of it… and yet… it was a better life than the one she’d left behind. At least here she would not starve. At least here she would no longer have to worry about when the money would run out. 

If she asked for books or jewelry or dresses or anything else her heart desired Tamlin would jump at the chance to make her fall in love with him. 

It made her feel guilty.

“And my family?” The weight of her words, the sincerity of them, tempered Lucien’s distaste for the girl who’d murdered his friend.

“I promised you before they’d be taken care of.” Tamlin said.

“But what does that mean?” Nora splayed her hands on the table, hating that her previous excitement over material things had outshone her longing for her home, “What does it mean that you’re taking care of them?” 

Lucien leaned back in his chair, watching her quietly. She wasn’t what he’d been expecting. He’d expected her to blaze through the manor like a hateful and seething flame. Instead she was more like a firefly in a jar - constantly buzzing and flickering with thoughts and emotions that she tried to trap within herself. He didn’t know how to make sense of her.

Tamlin sighed, hands gently folding in front of him. Something like sympathy peered out from behind the mask.

“Dinah and Jaskiel think your family - your real family - found you and sent for you to be brought back to the Continent. I crafted a final memory of them seeing you off on a carriage with your very wealthy aunt.” 

Nora stilled, tears beginning to gather in her eyes as Tamlin continued. 

“I’ll be sending money to them every month on behalf of your “real” family as thanks for protecting and caring for you. It will be more than enough for them to live comfortably without having to work.” 

“Did you… did you really?” She whispered softly.

“I swear on my life and my court.” Tamlin assured her.

She laughed without humor, brushing away the tears that had spilled onto her cheeks. Perhaps now the villagers would really believe that she was a foreign-born royal. 

“That’s a very good lie you came up with.” Nora muttered with disdain. The chair screeched along the floor when she stood up abruptly, and no one stopped her as she disappeared out the door.

“Well I think that went well.” Lucien said with a grimace. He downed the wine to its last bitter dregs.

Tamlin’s low growl followed Nora as she half-stumbled her way back to her room.

When she finished untangling herself from the wretched dress and sank beneath the covers, she finally allowed herself to cry. 

Tamlin had crafted such a perfect and necessary lie. Dinah and Jaskiel would be able to rest easy believing she was with her true family, but Nora would have to live with the truth. 

She was now utterly alone.

>>>

The chirping birds, obnoxious and hormonal, woke Nora up just in time to see the sun crest over the hills. The moment her heels hit the marble floor Alis snuck in, a pile of dresses stretched out in her hands.

“Good morning.” Alis said, her voice curt as she spread the dresses on the bed, “Which would you like to wear today?”

“I get to choose my dress?” Nora blinked the sleep out of her puffy eyes. 

“Yes, child. You get to choose your dress.” 

Nora said little as Alis fussed with her hair, tying it back in a simple braid before ushering her to the bathroom to deal with her tear-stained face. 

The dress Nora selected was simple - an ankle length riding gown paired with a deep blue vest and short boots. Alis tried not to display her displeasure as Nora dressed herself haphazardly. After a long, dreamless night she was ready to escape her room and find some secret corner of the manor to hide in - preferably in the library. 

Thoughts and plans for the day raced through her head as she followed Alis’s quick footsteps to the dining room, memorizing the path once more.

The frown was clear on her face when she saw Tamlin and Lucien crowding the breakfast table. Alis nudged her forward, unsticking her feet from the floor with a sharp jab to the center of her back. 

“How did you sleep?” Tamlin asked as she settled down and stabbed at a sausage. The faster she ate, the faster she could leave.

“Terribly.” 

“How unfortunate.” Lucien said, decked out in a riding uniform of his own. The deep green jacket was overlaid with gold-plated steel, as functional as it was beautiful. A pearl-handle knife the color of bleached bone was sheathed comfortably across his chest, a matching sword resting against the table as he ate.

Tamlin was similarly armed, but his weapons looked more decorative. After all, how much good were weapons when he could transform into a near unkillable beast at any moment. When the light hit his skin at certain angles, Nora could almost see the skin of the creature beneath, unyielding and impenetrable. 

He caught her staring at the glimmering badges pinned to his coat.

“Lucien and I have business to attend to today,” he said, answering her unspoken question, “You may do as you wish. If you require anything you may ask the servants.” 

Nora frowned at the word - servant, how archaic - and looked around the empty hall. They lurked about somewhere, moving through the estate unseen to her eyes. Were they watching her now? Were they waiting for a moment to report her odd behavior to Tamlin? 

That was the first thing she’d have to fix. There would be no way for her to sneak around undetected if she couldn’t even see who she should be hiding from. Thoughts of the Suriel flashed through her mind, her fingertips rubbing together as she flipped through the pages of a phantom book and imagined what information she might be able to sink her fingers into. 

“I assure you, you are safe here. My people won’t harm you in any way.” Nora snapped her head up, grateful that he’d mistaken her scheming for worry. 

“You promise?” a hint of surprise and hope slipped into her voice.

“I promise.” Tamlin said, nodding his head fervently. He ignored the dampness of his palms and pushed down the revulsion he felt at being reduced to this. He was one of the most powerful creatures in all of Prythian, perhaps in the entire world, and he needed to resort to courting a human to protect his people. The thought made him feel weak, lesser. He hadn’t wanted to send his men out to their deaths in the woods. With every friend he buried he could feel a bit of himself chipping away and landing beside their graces. 

He was desperate, and he would resort to this measure in his desperation.

“And I may go anywhere? Do anything?” 

Tamlin’s lips curled back in a feline grin, catching the light that sparked to life in her eyes. “Within reason.” 

Lucien snorted, “How much damage do you intend on doing, human?”

As much as possible.

“None.”

He snorted again, half-amused at her blatant lie.

“Where’s the library?” Nora stood up abruptly when she finished eating, not waiting to be dismissed from the breakfast table.

“The library?”

“Do you not have one?” She asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

Tamlin’s anger flared up like a gasoline fire. Lucien shot him a warning glance, standing up lightly and tilting his head towards the left before his High Lord could say or do anything he might regret.

“We have the most beautiful library you will have ever seen. Tamlin can show you the way, can’t you Tamlin?” 

“I can find it myself.” Nora snapped. She didn’t want company, only to disappear for the day, “Just give me the directions.”

“It’s a very large manor. We wouldn’t want you getting lost.” Something told her Lucien wanted nothing more than for her to ride off into the woods and never come back.

“I’ll ask whoever is around if that happens.” She said quickly, itching to find her escape. 

Mercifully, Tamlin didn’t press her to accept his company. 

He’d barely finished giving her the directions before she was flying out the side door, skirts shifting in the spring breeze like a ghostly afterimage. 

There was work to be done and plans to be made.

________________

Taglist: @myheartfollower @impossibelle @chybay22 @lahoete

Author's note: I struggled writing this chapter so I apologize if it's slow, but I'm just going to post it anyway so I can continue on to chapters I have more fleshed out plans for. Who knows, maybe I'll actually write down an outline for this fic instead of holding it all in my brain 😅. I hope you all have a lovely weekend.

[justalittlebeekeeper]

All Tumblr Days Of The Week I Have Seen

A while ago I started making a compilation (without links unfortunately, because I am lazy) of all the Tumblr Days of the Week I have seen cross my dash, because I think it's silly and interesting and I wanted to catalog it. I didn't have any intention of sharing it, but I realized it had gotten pretty long, and who knows, maybe someone else would be interested. So, without further ado, in the order of the week:

Stupid fucking slut Sunday

Fingers in his ass Sunday

Six sentence Sunday

Suck her silly Sunday

Jungle Sunday

Shawty like a melody Sunday

Swipe him Sunday

Break stuff Sunday

Girlbulge Sunday

Polar bear Sunday

Sluggish Sunday

Somebody Else Is Gonna Have To Do It Sunday

Send me on my way Sunday

Smooch Shark Sunday

Smooth Shark Sunday

Yes Snakes Sunday

Al Pacino girl look at that rat Sunday

Kiss your mutual Monday

Sad ant with a bindle Monday

Exploding money Monday

Let's get it on cunts Monday

Maim him Monday

Sparkle on it's Wednesday Monday

We're just normal men Wednesday Monday

The missile knows where it is Monday

ps5 brain Monday

Mimir Monday

Bare Minimum Monday

Simply don't Monday

Me if I was lobsta🦞 Monday

Mole interest Monday

Safe to leave the bog Tuesday

Twelve bricks Tuesday

I thought it was Wednesday Tuesday

Tuesday light me up

End of my rope Tuesday

Wednesday is tomorrow innit Tuesday

Funky fellow Tuesday

Trash him Tuesday

Meeting on the turret stairs Tuesday

Turn off Tumblr Live Tuesday

Tired Tuesday

Trying Not To Feel Doomed Tuesday

Too Tired to Care Tuesday

tdick Tuesday

Unethical science Tuesday

Toss him Tuesday (one piece)

No Snakes Tuesday

Tuesday again? No Problem

Toasting him Tuesday

Tumblr Tuesday: National Nothing Day (by staff)

You rockin with time theft tuesday?!

This thing Tuesday

Tuck him in Tuesday

Wedical Wystery Wednesday

White Boy Wednesday

WIP Wednesday

Wet Beast Wednesday

Wob Wednesday (mp100)

End of my rope tuesday Wednesday

Wednesday Wednesday (Addams family)

It's Wednesday or as I like to call it Thursday

WAAAAAAAAAAA Wednesday (mp100)

Whoop him Wednesday

The massive "It is Wednesday" post

El woowoo Wednesday

It's Wednesday, or as I like to call it, the Ides of March

Weary Wednesday

Whatever I can get away with Wednesday

Wet rat Wednesday

We're just normal men Wednesday

Woodcock Wednesday

White Girl Wednesday

Remembering the passage of time Wednesday

Do it weird Wednesday

Dry beast Wednesday

Bigweld Wednesday

Weevil Wednesday

Its Comes Fucks Me Wednesday

Out of Touch Thursday

Thottie Thursday, or as I like to call it, Sunday

Lord Foog the 2st Thursday

Present Mic's concave ass Thursday (bnha)

We put the they in them Thursday

Thumping him Thursday

Out of touch Touya Thursday (bnha)

Unlimited brutality 5 for $5 on Thursdays

Onto better things Thursday

Tuckered out Thursday

This job sucks Thursday

Fire Gator Thursday

Very specific archive Thursday

Flat fuck Friday

Thank Gnome it's Friday

Frankie Friday (one piece fandom)

Bean Hole Bfriday

Flatworm Friday

Fuck him on the forest floor Friday

Fuck your mutual from behind Friday

Frilled shark Friday

Fuck him up Friday

Bully your mutuals Friday

Big Dumb Idiot Baby Apple Fight Friday

Electric phallus Friday

Faint Friday

Fat fuck Friday

Fuck it Friday

Lesbian Friday

Frigate friggin' Friday

Street fighter fuck her from behind Friday

Stroganoff Saturday

Slapping him Saturday

Sad slav Saturday

Snoozy Saturday

Say on my ass Saturday

Dragon Saturday

Sludge Saturday Baby

Small joys Saturday

Beat the shit out of him Saturday

Saturday shorts

Bonuses:

Penisula thurtueswednesday

happy woke up thinking it was wednesday sunday but it was actually fucking friday tuesday

[ivyvanhelsing]

trickoretreet

Treat! (fat turret from portal)

[spinningbuster98]

Kraid's Lair can be a bit of a twisted joke

It's by far the easier to access between the 2 boss lairs but while it's technically the smallest it's insanely cramped and twisty by design making it really fucking easy to get lost and get killed by the atrocious enemy placement

You can actually find a Fake, blue Kraid here. I guess he's supposed to trick the player? But there's no way you'd find him without a guide honestly, finding the real Kraid is way easier by comparison

Kraid's fight is a mess, he constantly throws shit at you that you have no hope of dodging and those spikes of his often protect him from missiles and projectiles. The most surefire way of handling him is to just spam bombs on him, but that requires that you have the Varia Suit for extra defense and lots of Energy Tanks so that you can hope to kill him before he kills you

One thing I think Metroid 1 does actually really well despite its age is its general atmosphere: of course tha game doesn't have any explicitly scary moments like Fusion, and its character designs can be pretty fucking goofy (Ridley looks like Barney the Dinosaur, Kraid is like a fat, hairy mole and Samus looks like some dude in spandex wearing an oversized astronaut helmet), but the overall aesthetic of the game gives it a genuinely eerie feeling through the use of dark, "acid" colors, mostly mechanical and cold architecture and pitch black backgrounds which were most definitely to save memory space but genuinely sell the idea that the game takes place inside of a giant cave system

Then you add to this the music: yeah Brinstar's theme is catchy and heroic, but the themes of Norfair and Ridley's Lair sound genuinely dissonant and a bit disturbing. Kraid's Lair has my favorite track, being simultanously harmonic and unsettling.

I believe this game's composer, Hirokazu Tanaka, once stated that he purposefully made this soundtrack to be as unorthodox and "weird" as possible in order to drive home the game's unsettling feeling and well...mission accomplished! I still think that this game has some of the best ambience of the series, actually way better than its remake Zero Mission. In fact I think the original trilogy has geberally a much eerier atmosphere than all of the other games, Fusion included, but that's a topic for another day

So! Tourian!

Pro tip: don't bother killing the Metroids, just freeze them and let them go, 'cause you're gonna need all the missiles you have. Yeah it's a bit dumb that Samus' mission is to kill all the Metroids to prevent the Space Pirates from using them for galactic conquest....and yet it's better to leave them alone for ammo preservation. Well this place is gonna blow either way...

And then there's Mother Brain, who might as well have the power of Chaos Control because my God LOOK AT HOW MUCH SLOWDOWN THERE IS! Because of all the shit that those turrets fling at you every second the game just slows down to an absolute crawl and when you mix this with the cramped as fuck design of the room preventing you from dodging reliably and the fact that those zebetite pillars will start to regenerate almost immediately after you hit them, this fight sucks absolute ass and it's incredibly easy to just die over and over again!

I hope for your sake that you found the Varia Suit and the Screw Attack to deal with those Rinkas from Hell, and also that you don't screw up the final escape sequence with those tiny ass platforms!

I've always found it interesting how the game very nonchalantly told us that "space could be invaded by the other Metroid". Were they really so sure there was gonna be a sequel? This is one of my favorite aspects of the series: even though when you get down to it these games are basically written pretty episodically,much like other classic game series such as Zelda or Sonic, they almost always leave some general loose plot point that future games can exploit to make the series look like it has an overarching plot...evn though that's not really the case

Also yeah, Samus is a woman, what a surprise!

And before anyone says something: no. She wasn't made a woman in order to "challenge gender norms" or "for trans rep" or whatever. Those are very modern, 2010s/2020s views being applied to a videogame from the 1980s when games weren't exactly interested in politics or activism, let alone Nintendo games, and stuff like wanting to challenge gender norms were most likely not on most people's mind in the gaming business, or most contexts unfortunately.

I can't find the Interviews, but I believe this game's devs once stated that they can't even remember whose idea it was to make Samus a woman (most likely due to how chaotic the game's development was) but the general thought process seems to be that they wanted to give players a nice surprise for beating the game quickly enough and they also wanted to have an Ellen Ripley reference because Metroid borrows a lot from Alien.

I'm not saying that Samus holds no importance in the context of female heroines in gaming or feminism or whatever. I'm just saying that there's an important difference between saying that she BECAME an icon for female representation in games and saying that she was always MEANT to be one.

[the-typing-dragon]

ok but can you seriously imagine the terror a Rathalos would feel upon fighting engineer. it does it's starter roar and engie immediately fires a fat boy nuke directly into it's mouth (dwarves are EXTREMELY used to doing headshots to hit weakpoints). it starts to run and Engie platforms the escape hole. No escape. it spits a fireball and the dwarf fucking shoots it out of the air. all the while these two small turrets are sapping it's life with perfect accuracy. shredders are flying around the poor beast taking chunks out of it. Engie's lok-1 is causing constant explosions all across it's hide. this onslaught does not end until the Rathalos has entirely stopped moving. any monster hunters looking on would be absolutely terrified by the display of pure force

[aprofessionalwithoutstandards]

ok, mercs ranked by edibility

heavy - 9/10. he probably has a lot of fat on him, and thats the best part of meat. he also probably has the least poisons (lead, asbestos, alcohol, etc) in him out of the mercs. however, like all the mercs, his meat would be very tough, preventing him from being a 10/10

engineer - 8/10. probably has some fat on him, but not as much as heavy. his flesh is actually probably at least a little less tough than the other mercs since i think he does most of his fighting with his turrets. the gunslinger probably isnt much of an issue, id just put is aside like a lobster shell

sniper - 6/10. his meat would be dry and tough, but in a good way? like beef jerkey. however, theres not a lot of it and i would probably have to clean him before eating.

spy - 5/10. his meat would be so-so. i dont really have much to say on it

demo - 4/10. his meat would be so-so, if not for the years of alcoholism. that much alcohol being in his system nigh constantly would probably effect his flavor. its not like penne ala vodka or sake or anything, where the alcohol enriches and brings out the flavor of the meat, theres just too much. i think it would overwhelm the taste of demo's flesh with its bitter disgustingness

scout - 3/10. his flesh isnt objectively inedible, just really bland and dry in a bad way. like chicken but you cant crack open the bone with your teeth to get at the delicious bone marrow.

medic - 1/10. he has definetly done something to his own flesh to dissuade cannibals. also hes hairy and thats gross

soldier - 0/10. i do not want to get lead poisoning

pyro - ?/10. this is unknowable. but it probably wouldnt be very edible because of the asbestos

of course, this is all my opinion

Okay I'm going to disagree with you on one thing I think Medic would LOVE the idea of being cannibalized because he thinks it's HILARIOUS. You're trying to kill him and Medic is happily telling you what sauces he wants to be served with

[voidsentprinces]

Lyse: WAIT! MY FRIEND! WHAT IS THAT!? WoL: That is a motion activated magitek turret. Lyse: When Zenos took Krile, he must of set it up down here! WoL: Oh no, that's just part of Lolorito's scam. Lyse: Come again? Zenos: In a minute~ Thancred: Stop. It. WoL: According to Krile, Lolorito sends a janitor down here to get mowed day before pay day. Lyse: That's...horrible! WoL: Eh, apparently he's trying to cut down on costs since Tataru's been killing his Eastern Trade Expedition with her own. Lyse: But his prices of wares from Kugane are still so high! WoL: I mean, yeah, you know how expensive it is to fly someone to Ala Mhigo, pay off Garlean Centurions and fire that turret? Lyse: So he...he's trying to save money. By killing janitors...but he's losing money...for killing janitors. WoL: That...uhh...hauh. Lyse: Maybe he just hates janitors. WoL: Or maybe the Monetarists just hate the lower income people of Eorzea. YEEEEAAH SUCK IT MONETARISTS! Lyse: They're the ones who are funding this revolution. WoL: Yeah well they can still suck it. Lyse: So what are we going to do about the turret? WoL: Uhh...Throw Thordan's corpse at it? Lyse: ... WoL: ... Lyse: Imma kick it. WoL: That is a TERRIBLE idea. Lyse: Don't care imma stll do it. HAAAAAUUUGH! *crash* WoL: Oh my God, she kicked it. Lyse: Threat eliminated. WoL: Alright, I can handle the immortal goddess giving me migraines. I can handle the equally immortal dark wizards trying to fuck everything up. I can even buy that Zenos has a fat ass cake factory. Zenos: Mmm...my enemy...my FRIEND. Thancred: Don't encourage him. WoL: But that...that was stupid.