#granite bridge saw

[bridgesawlosangeles]

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[gangerstonecnccuttingmachine]

the stone cutting saw is being packed and ready for shippment

[klzdiamondtools]

Achieve silent, smooth cuts with the Volcano Titanium Silent Blade. Perfect for those in Dallas, TX, needing high-quality blades for efficient, noise-reduced cutting operations.

[monzabee]

a not so meet cute – cl16

paper rings, prologue(?)

masterlist || series masterlist ||

Summary: The one where Charles meets his neighbour, who quickly captures his attention.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: none other than charles being charles, also might have some cursing, google translate french

Request: “Hii if you’re taking requests could you please write a fic for Charles where he’s your best friend and he asks you to fake date him because he think he likes another girl so he wants to make her notice him/make her jealous kind of thing and you agree even though you love him and during the fake dating he realises that he loves you too and yeah angst fluff and all but a happy ending .If you decide to write this tysm and incase you don’t feel like writing this that’s cool too thanks either way ❤️”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! although i am still working on the first chapter of this new series, i wanted to write a little something for you guys to introduce you to the world i had in mind! i know it was not on the wip schedule, but the inspiration struck so i decided to go with it. ever since i saw the wedding pictures of margaret qualley and jack antonoff, the only thing i've been thinking of was the song, and i though it was the perfect song for the characters i had in mind. so, welcome to the new series, inspired by the request above, so thank you for the anon who put the idea in my mind to create this whole series, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

August, 2017

He met Margaret on our rooftop, she was wearing white And he was like, "I might be in trouble"

Charles loves his country, he really does. He’s always been patriotic of some sorts, he supposes. But the one thing he absolutely loathes about Monaco? The heat, no questions asked. The worst part isn’t even the heat itself, per se, it is the fact that his apartment has no elevator and he has to walk up five stories just to make it to his apartment – in the heat. So yeah, even though he is as patriotic of a Monégasque as they come, he definitely wishes he was somewhere else at the moment. When he does make to his floor, however, he’s met with a rather peculiar view, where his new neighbour is yelling at someone on the phone.

“No, I said I wanted the granite counters,” the person specify, fingers clutching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “No!” The man straight up yells, “Ceux en granit, connard, pas ceux en graphite. I don’t think they even come in graphite!”

Deciding to remain silent as he makes his way towards his own apartment, Charles ignores the man standing in front of the apartment opposite of his. Though, he realises that the apartment’s door is open and there is construction going on inside, which explains the drilling sounds he’s been hearing early in the morning and the smell of fresh paint that never seems to leave the shared floor.

Side-eyeing the whole ordeal, he manages to make it to his apartment without attracting the attention of the man – or so he thinks. Just as he’s about to unlock his front door, he feels a pat on his shoulder. As he turns towards the man, there is a curious look on his face, “Hi?”

“Hello,” the man greets, “do you know how i can contact the superintendent?”

For reasons unknown (extreme hangover), Charles’ brain decides to blank out, “Quoi?”

“Le commissaire,” the man clarifies, “savez-vous comment je peux les contacter?” And Charles realises he would have been impressed with the man’s accent if he wasn’t so hangover from the night before. The superintendent, do you know how I can contact them?

“Ah,” Charles nods in understanding, “sure, let me give you his number.”

After the man saves the number he gives to his phone, he extends his hand in a friendly greeting. “I owe you one, I’m Declan, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Charles,” he responds with, what he hopes to be, a friendly smile. Motioning the apartment behind them, he asks, “Are you my new neighbour?”

“Oh, no, no,” Declan laughs, and it’s a warm, almost infectious laugh. It reminds Charles of– well, it doesn’t matter anymore. Declan’s voice draws him back to the conversation, “My sister is, I’m renovating it for her.”

Charles nods in understanding, “Ah, I see. I’ve never seen her around, I don’t think.”

“Well that’d be because she’s as annoying as little sisters come,” Declan laughs again, and this time it manages to get a smile out of Charles. “You know what? We’re actually having a small party at my place tonight, why don’t you come?”

“You’ve just met me,” Charles points out, voicing his confusion, “you really want to invite me to your house?”

“Pish posh,” Declan waves him off, already starting to walk back to his sister’s apartment “I’ll send you the details, bring alcohol!”

Charles tries to come up with excuses to give Declan when he’s a no show at the party, but all the excused he come up with sounding either shitty, entitled or just a mess in general. So he convinces himself to get ready after a much needed shower, and remembers to pick up a bottle of tequila on his way to the address Declan texted him earlier that day. Considering the amount of cars parked in front of the apartment complex, Charles thinks whether it’s going to be a ‘small’ party as Declan put earlier, but he manages to find a place to park his car, nonetheless. Surprisingly, it’s not hard to find which apartment belongs to his new ‘friend’, as the people he seems to keep literally bumping into give him directions which lead him to the top floor – he thinks, like brother like sister, huh?

“Ah, bienvenu, Charles!” Declan greets him as he enters the apartment, filled with more people than he honestly expected; but hey, they are in Monte Carlo after all.

Because he was raised by his mother, Charles replies, “Merci de me recevoir,” but because he is Charles, he finds himself reverting easily to French. Of course, he soon realises that his new friend has no trouble understanding him.

“Of course, ma maison est ta maison.” With a wide smile that reaches his eyes, he takes the bottle Charles offer him and pats his shoulder in a friendly manner, “Good lad, let me put this in the kitchen and we’ll find my sister together. I suppose she’s here somewhere.”

Giving him a firm nod, Charles is suddenly left alone to gaze around the living area. He quickly realises that he’s not the only one who is particularly patriotic as he comes face to face with the Union Jack on the wall, proudly displayed on the wall, seems to tell a story of cultural connections and a home away from home. He’s also, somehow, met with a very eccentric group of people, who seem to be insistent on having him join their various conversation – which he does his best to partake in.

As he chats with a group of fellow partygoers, he notices Declan making his way through the crowd toward him. “Charles,” he says with an apologetic smile, “sorry for that, let’s go.”

As they move through the apartment, Charles catches glimpses of the décor, which can only be described as eclectic, but what he realises that Declan made sure to fill up his walls with all kinds of memories; from photographs of what Charles thinks is his family to his diplomas, to even famous artwork – he’s not sure whether the Warhol he just passed by is real or not, but he supposes it’s probably the first option. They arrive at a corner of the rooftop terrace where a cozy seating area is arranged. A few guests are engaged in animated discussions, while others lounge comfortably, enjoying the ambiance. However, it doesn’t take either him or Declan to realise that his sister is, in fact, not with the group.

Though, it doesn’t take the latter to spot his sister, mumbling with a wince under his breath, and when Charles follows Declan's gaze to find her engaged in a rather animated discussion with a man who looks both frustrated and slightly bewildered by her. “Poor guy.”

“Seems like she's keeping him entertained.” Charles offer, careful with his words, and also quite confused at the man’s reactions to whatever Declan’s sister seems to be saying.

“Eh, sisters.” Declan shrugs, and motions Charles to follow him.

As they approach their corner of the terrace, her voice becomes clearer, and Charles can overhear snippets of the conversation. “I just don’t understand why we can’t print more money,” she says in an airy voice.

The man she's speaking to rubs his temples, clearly grappling with how to respond. “Well, it's not that simple. Printing more money can lead to inflation and devalue the currency.” He takes a moment to think, then, “Think of it like shoes–”

“Okay,” Declan laughs nervously as he places himself between the two, turning to the other man with a kind smile, “I think we’re done here, mate, she’s playing you. She’s an econ major, sorry for that.” Though Charles can’t see the expression on her face, he imagines there’s some sort of a victorious smile as she waves the man away, “Stop emasculating my friends, please.”

“Well choose better friends, and I won’t,” she shrugs, following his brother’s movements as he makes his way back near Charles, she turns towards him as the white dress she’s wearing sways gently in the evening breeze. There’s a surprised look on her face when she realises and they are not alone, “Um, hi.”

With a playful grin, Declan points to Charles and turns to his sister, “This is Charles, your new neighbour, and Charles, this is my sister–”

Bambi.

It’s the only word that comes to Charles’ mind when he sees your eyes and a friendly smile you give to him, “Nice to meet you, Charles.”

His eyes fall down to your extended hand, and he scrambles to regain his composure, taking your hand and shaking it gently. “Uh, yes, nice to meet you too.”

With an unexpected clap from your brother, which has both you and Charles jumping slightly, you turn to him with a glare, “Well, now that you know each other, I’ll leave you to get acquainted. And you,” he points to you which elicits a raised eyebrow from you, “don’t scare him off, and for God’s sake change this music.”

“What’s wrong with ABBA?” You ask with a small pout already forming on your lips.

“We need a change,” Charles watches with a silent chuckle as Declan starts walking back towards the kitchen, “ergo, change it!”

“Well that was an interesting exit,” you mumble, eyes following your brother until he’s out of both your and Charles’ views. Afterwards, you turn your attention back to the man standing in front of you, “What do you think about The Smiths?”

“Who?” Charles asks you, confusion written on his face.

“Not The Who,” you nudge him slightly, chuckling softly, though your laughter dies down once you realise he’s really confused. “I– The Smiths, Charles! To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die,” you softly sing, but he replies with a small shake of his head, and a shrug. “Oh, I love The Smiths! Come on, you have a lot to learn.”

As you grab him by his wrist to guide him back inside the apartment, I might be in trouble, he thinks to himself. And then, you turn around to give him a full smile, with a glint of mischief in your eyes that he can't quite interpret, and say, “I can already feel that we are going to be very good friends.”

And then he knows, he’s definitely in trouble.

[midnightloversmusic]

Hot Cocoa & Love notes

remus lupin x reader

“Your cheeks only turned a darker shade when you looked up. The most gorgeous man you have ever seen was standing right in front of you, well, right behind the counter.”

first day of flufftober!!! I thought this would be perfect for day one, just a cute little coffee shop meet-cute :)) hope you enjoy!

masterlist

————————————————————————

Your fingers felt like they were 2 seconds away from falling off and the bus stop was still a block away and you thought you might as well give up here, drop your groceries and freeze to death, that is until you saw a sign a few store fronts up.

“ moony’s

$1 hot cocoa every sunday!”

The sign was written in pastel chalk and had the moon cycles drawn in a border around it. Seeing this sign saved you from one hell of a breakdown. With a sudden rush of motivation you headed inside the cute cafe. Immediately sighing from the warmth that you felt. It was past noon and there weren't a whole lot of people in the cafe. Just an older woman reading a cheesy romance novel on one of the dark green couches by the front, two teenagers, probably on a date, you think to yourself based on the giggling and awkward movements they made trying to discreetly scooch a little closer to each other. On the other side of the cafe there was a man silently typing on his computer and sipping on a steaming cup of coffee.

You were so busy studying the cozy place in front of you and trying to get the feeling back in your hands that you forgot to make any move to go up to the counter. That is until you heard a soft

“Ehm” coming from the front of the store.

Heat rose to your cheeks and you immediately started walking towards the counter. Your cheeks only turned a darker shade when you looked up. The most gorgeous man you have ever seen was standing right in front of you, well, right behind the counter. He had slightly curly auburn hair, wide hazel eyes, and a scar that went up from the middle of his left cheek all the way over the bridge of his nose to right under his right eye.

You definitely were not feeling cold anymore, in fact you felt like the cafe just got way too hot way too fast and all the sudden you wished you were in a tank top and jeans. The cute, and stunningly handsome, boy cleared his throat again, his lips are now tilted slightly upward. Obviously amused by your flustered state.

“Sorry” you mutter

Slowly coming to the realization if you keep staring at him you won't be able to get a word out without becoming a stuttering mess.

“Sorry” you repeat, shaking your head and redirecting your vision down to the granite counter.

“Can I please have a hot chocolate? No whipped cream please.”

“Mhm, and what will be the name for that?”

God. Even his voice was attractive for fucks sake. It was smooth and deep and just so,

“y/n” you say before you can think anymore.

“Pretty” he says so quietly you almost didn't catch it.

Lucky for you, you did. Or maybe unluckily because now you are sure your cheeks are heating up again. You watch him silently as he takes a foam cup from the stand next to him and gets a sharpie from under the counter. You watch his hands, which are absolutely sinful, your brain adds unhelpfully, as they write on the back of the cup. You track his movements when he walks over to the bar and starts making your cocoa. You're more than aware he can probably feel you staring at him. But you don't have enough energy to care anymore.

He quickly finishes up and slips a cardboard sleeve onto your drink so you don't burn yourself. He walks back over to the register and hands you your drink. Your fingers brush for more time than is necessary and you swear your stomach does backflips.

“Thank you” you said

His eyes are kind and his smile is soft when he says “of course, love”

You suppress a squeal as you pick up your bags from the floor and, begrudgingly, walk back out into the cold and to the bus stop. Once you made it onto the bus and have finally settled down you notice that the cafe boy wrote more than just your name on the back of the cup.

“You are very pretty, let me take you out sometime? :) - Remus” with a phone number written right beneath it.

You really hope no one is looking at you right now because if they were they'd probably think you were psychotic staring at your cup with a huge grin on your face.

Remus, You think. It suits the cafe boy very well.

You spend the rest of the bus ride planning out what to say to him when you call him later.

[hellothisisangle]

You came to Australia???? I hope you enjoyed your time here! Love ur art btw 💚💚💚 Cae is very pretty💚💚💚💚

Yeah (in September) it was amazing! I planned so many things, as I often do with trips, and we got to everything without being too exhausted 😅

1 week in Cairns:

Daintree and croc tour, diving at the GBF (first time, but diving was fucking incredible and we’re legitimately looking into diving other cool places now), Kuranda, Granite Gorge, drove all the way around lake Tinaroo and saw the cathedral fig tree, Tablelands, the waterfall circuit through farmland, Paronella park, Babinda boulders. This is also where we tried roo and croc meat for the first time which was super interesting

Lake Tinaroo

Granite Gorge

And 1 week in Sydney

Visited the botanical gardens and art museums, stopped at a few breweries, Taronga zoo, Reptile park, Sydney aquarium, Luna Park, Katoomba & Blue Mountains (the highlight of this week really), Bondi beach, walked around the shopping district and city sights, saw an orchestra at the opera house (which crazy coincidence, but George miller was having a dinner next to us at Bennelong), did the Sydney bridge climb, and tried a few recommended food places like Nomad (my favorite), the tower, and Quay

I’d love to go back and potentially visit Melbourne and Tasmania next time!

[hanayori89]

The Place Where Time

Stands Still

* Temple of Time*

It never ceased to amaze Link that beyond these doors lied the past, somehow perfectly petrified in the present. His first visit to the Temple of Time was one of the most unforgettable moments of his travels.

Everything in the Sacred Grove seemed to persist against the elements from when Link last visited. The bridges he had aligned in the gorge with his Gale Boomerang still sat, waiting for his feet to tread across.

Link couldn't help but feel it persisted too well. As if someone had come before him, setting the pace for his entrance.

Zelda. And hopefully only Zelda. Link trembled at Fado's recollection of Ilia hobbling around Ordon on all fours. He saw her head swivel around unnaturally as she crouched on his windowsill. He saw the weeping eyes, devoid of any human spirit that might remain in them. He could still smell the repugnant odor that scathed the inside of his nostrils with each breath he took.

"If you really love Y/N, you'll release her so she may continue to live. Otherwise, I will behead her like her gullible idiot of a father."

Link was nauseated by the memory of the shadow's threat towards Y/N. He willed himself to move forward. He would protect her. On his life, he would protect her.

From the outside, time had claimed what it truly deemed to be its property. The Temple of Time lay desecrated in ruins. Chunks of cinderblock were choked by vines that proudly defiled them, yet the door remained miraculously intact. It was the one piece of the temple that time couldn't touch. Link pressed a hand against the frayed granite doors.

He was about to enter another world.

Hero Shade's world.

"Oh Link, you'll never be forgotten. I can promise you that. Because I'll never forget you."

Y/N was right. He hadn't forgotten Hero Shade. For Link, Hero Shade was very much alive. His once beating heart of fortitude continued to beat on in the vessel that was now Link's own body.

He pushed the doors open with all his might, unaware of what fate awaited him but no longer afraid. Should he perish, his heart would beat within the body of another.

The Triforce of Courage would find him again, at another time or another place. And that person would exist solely for the purpose of defining what a hero was.

"A hero isn't the sword you hold in your hand. It's a trait you display in your heart."

Link walked forward, the luster of the past encompassing him. The last thing he remembered before walking towards the light was how foolishly mortal he was.

There would always be another hero to take his place.

But Link would forever be the one and only hero of Twilight.

And so, Link surrendered to the light. To his mortality.

To the unyielding beating of his heart and who it beat for.

*

You had managed to make your way to the Temple of Time.

Although what stood in front of you wasn't much of a temple, but a city of concrete ruins.

You had made your way to Hyrule Castle, demanding a council with Princess Zelda. The guards harshly turned you away. All but one particular guard, who happened to remember you. 

Fabian. 

He saw you, a sad little sight before him. He walked over, seizing you by the arm and dragging you from the castle stairs.

"Hey!" You hissed. When you were a safe distance from the guards on entry duty, Fabian whispered, "You were with Link and met with the Princess before, correct?" You nodded, trying to drop the temper that was threatening to make a council in your place.

"Why do you seek the princess now? It is rather late."

"I have my reasons. Please, I really need her assistance."

He continued to stare at you, his eyes regarding you with suspicion. "And you are not with Link?"

Before you could respond, Fabian cut in. "Because he is with Zelda. They aren't in the castle. I can give you no other information beyond that." Nothing in the way he spoke led you to believe he was being disingenuous.

"Then may I ask, are they at the Temple of Time? Please, I will go there if they are."

Fabian grunted at your incorrigible persistence. "Do you know how to get there?"

Despite the lack of confirmation, his question was confirmation enough. Link had upheld his promise. Was Ilia with him? Surely, she would be livid if he sneaked away on your behalf. At least with Zelda there, the tear of Midna and its warning didn't seem as critical. How much danger could Link be with Zelda present? You felt your heart begin to pick up its pace at the sheer idea of seeing him. You hated admitting to yourself how bereft you'd been since his absence.

But there was no lying to yourself when the erratic palpitating of your own heart pumped the truth.

"How do I get there?"

Fabian cupped his chin in thought. "From where we stand, you will stay north across Hyrule Field. It lies a bit yonder to the east. In what is known as the 'Sacred Grove.'

You clasped both of his hands in yours, shaking them frantically. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you so much; I truly appreciate your cooperation."

Fabian relinquished a sigh. "Just do not tell anyone that I gave the information I did. No matter how it was stated, I could be terminated. And make sure the princess is safe." Fabian gave you a gruff salute before briskly walking off.

You were thrilled at the divine timing at play. As you ran into the glittering moonbeams that graced Hyrule Field, you felt yourself convert into your Twili form. This was an ideal time to go. You could bend the shadows to your every whim and wish. You stalked within them, transporting yourself across Hyrule Field in a dizzying whirlwind of camouflaged energy. The other perk was that while you were concealed within the familiar domain of the shadows, you were virtually naked to prying eyes. 

And any possible prey.

Now you stood among the array of smashed granite and slate, bewildered. You had no reason to believe Fabian would lie to you. Why would he put his job on the line to tell you a lie? You studied your surroundings, noting the placement of every vine and crumbling column.

What struck you as most odd was the door. It stood perfectly whole. Immune to the indecent wiles of time. You walked among the rubble, stepping over to the other side of the door.

That's when you noticed something. A footprint was perfectly molded into the mud at the entrance of the door. Whoever was here had physically opened it.

Why would they open the door and not just walk through the rubble? It's not like there are even walls left standing.

You walked around to the front of the door. The sculpted footprint in the mud looked like it belonged to a boot. Its size was a tad too large to belong to a female.

Link? 

You stepped into the footprint with your own boot. You pushed the doors open, amazed at how heavy they were compared to their stature.

What will I say if he is in here?

Just that I love him. Even if it is Ilia whom he loves.

Your thoughts barely seemed to concede when a blinding light beyond the opened door absorbed you within it.

For a moment, you thought this was death.

But if you had died, why did your heart still wildly beat for its owner, who was beyond these doors?

Dying seemed less frightening in the brilliance of this light.

Less frightening than the heartbreak that may await you beyond this door.

Edited: 7/2/2024

A temple in ruins may become the home of a future heart in ruin. The Temple of Time, revered by many yet forgotten by most. How will the Master Sword react to its master coming back to visit?

Danger lies ahead, but the memo has been missed. It's a race through the past to claim the Rod of Dominion. 

Let's just hope an unruly shadow in the form of Ilia doesn't cross the finish line first. 

Check out my other completed OOT Zelda work- No Woman Beyond

[wylldebee]

Ye Olde Magick AU Part II: More Houses

As always: thank @books-n-guns for the existence of this AU :D Basic lore (and the first bunch of houses): X Without further ado, have some more houses~!

The Arryns: Wings, wings, wings. They have the most beautiful feathered wings you'll ever lay eyes on and back muscles because damn their wings are heavy. They need special oils and soaps, and are almost constantly grooming. And they have echo voices (X). If the song Hallelujah existed in ASOIAF they would own it. The skies of the Vale always has at least one Arryn or one of it's cadet houses The Boltons: Like books-n-guns says, they're vampires with an interest in blood magic. Legend says the Boltons actually used to be able to shed their whole skin—and I mean their whole skin—until one Bolton got into blood magic and suddenly vampires. The northern weather is perfect for them. The Mormonts: Werebears! Werebears! Werebears! You think Bear Island was named after the bears that inhabit it? No. It's the werebears of House Mormont. Were as wild looking as the Starks of old just bear themed; claws and teeth and fangs and thicker hair, and were generally bigger and stronger. Now they're just strong. Lady Maege Mormont can still crush a man's head between her hands.

The Tarths: Giants. For some reason the magic has been absent from their bloodline for a few years until Brienne was born. While not as big as her ancestors, Brienne is still big and has great strength. She didn't defeat those who had a bet on her maidenhead so much as she sent them flying. People held score cards. Loras was sweating in his armour and allowed Brienne to grapple him instead shut up you drunken archer of my family I allowed it because I didn't want to fucking die. The Hightowers: Flame hair. Think Hades from Hercules. It's safe to the touch and doesn't set anything on fire...unless the Hightower it's attached to wants it. Just like when they turn the beacon's fire green to call their bannerman, a Hightower's hair can turn green at will. Please imagine Alicent entering the room not only in her green dress, but with flickering green flame hair. The Baelishs: Fiery eyes. Look up Lucifer Morningstar red eyes and you get what I'm imagining, though the pupils are a glowing flame coloured. It's hard to look like a friendly and powerless man to be underestimated by all the high lords with these eyes, but Littlefinger manages it. The Greyjoys: Krackens. Honestly I'm just imagining a kracken version of Davey Jones from Pirates of the Caribbean. But they can only get that form when wet with seawater. Can remain in that form so long as a part of their body is still in seawater. Rare times does it skip a member of the family, so sorry Aeron. The Karstarks: Since they are a cadet branch of the Starks they also benefitted from the same wolf magic—however instead of fangs they've got the claws. Sharp and deadly, the Karstarks are best at being frontline fighters where even if they lose their swords they can still maul a bitch. No, seriously, they will maul someone with their claws. They have mauled people with their claws. Rumors say they use grindstones to keep their claws nice and sharp. The Freys: Trolls, specifically bridge trolls. And not the dependable kind that they used to be back in the day. Still having that weasel look to them, they have granite skin that makes normal swords break against them and above-human strength, thus still making them the most powerful bannermen of House Tully. The Reeds: Lizard-lions or frogs. Actually, nobody really knows what the Reeds are—not now or back in the past. Not even Ned knows what Howland Reed looked like because he kept his entire person covered from the top of his head to his hands to his feet. The only thing he saw was a super long tongue jab hard at Arthur's neck that killed the knight and save him. And that's what I've got for now. Again ideas of other houses are welcome!

[eldritchteletubbie]

gimme 💖 and 💥 for the writing game!

💖what is your primary writing goal for this year?

I would like to make a complete (but probably brief) outline for my Glorfindel fic(s) bc with the loose idea in my head/doc it could be like 3 fics tbh. I also want to get out at least the first chapter of this fic.

And for 💥 ok so the Glorfindel fic Beth and I have discussed this (two years ago when I first came up with the idea) basically it’s a dad Glorfindel fic with an adopted child I won’t give away too much but I’m so excited to share it with people. It is going to be a non-linear reincarnation fic where Glorfindels adopted Easterling daughter Aldith is reincarnated into Gondolin but not as a baby she just like lands in a fountain at the age she was when she died so I don’t have to write three childhoods.

It’s an exploration of history as it’s told vs how it happened and also a bit of an exploration of Elven arrogance.

And even though I talked about it here’s a snippet. Most of what I’m excited for is fic two in Gondolin tbh. I haven’t named her village yet.

The King's eyes were as granite, his voice cool and measured as he spoke. “What would compel Lord Glorfindel, warrior of Gondolin, pride and sovereign of the House of the Golden Flower to take a personal interest in you stranger?” His voice never rose, eyes never once flickered. Though in that moment Aldith saw by a slight furrow betwixt his brows that Turgon would be quick to anger and slow to reconsider his judgement.

A fine characteristic in a king Aldith thought sardonically. But not in a jury. Or executioner.

He is my Atya.

“I could not say your Majesty.”

He stared contemplatively, surveying her at his leisure.

He is not afraid to make me wait. Thought Aldith, but why would he be, he has forever. They sat in what was to Aldith total darkness, save for the soft glow of the trees cast by Turgon.

“A strange notion given you are a sickly one, not to mention a Wild Man of the East your core is one with Souron is it not”

Aldith bit back a snarl at the notion. She had not expected a warm welcome after Glorfindel had shoved Aur�� almost up her nose in that blasted fountain. But she had not expected this.

A cell treated as a kindness.

Frozen.

Starved.

Scrapes left to heal on their own burning and oozing with infection.

Rats nibbling her toes as she slept and accused of working with Souron.

Lying with the monsters that torched VILLAGE.

Erestor had taught her that Turgon was a suspicious King. That he barred entry to Gondolin The Hidden City. Turgon’s rough edges had been smoothed by Atya’s voice. He had always glossed over the details, instead keen to tuck her thick dark hair behind her ears and tell her again of the sprawling gardens and gossamer, sweet-tasting water fountains. A far more fitting bedtime story.

“I do not work for the Dark One your Majesty. It is because of him, because of his orcs my parents are dead. My brother too.” Even after all these years her eyes pricked and nose filled with acrid smoke, singed hair, burning flesh. Her hands shook slightly recalling the weight of cradling a cooling baby.

She decided not to tell him Ceolmund’s death tainted her fingers.

Aldith stared at Turgon’s nose. There was a tiny scar, almost imperceptible on its bridge as though a sparking campfire had caught him. She forced herself to meet his eyes. “The orcs raided my village, when they took what they needed they set the storerooms ablaze. The fire spread across the roofs. They were thatched.” She barely stopped herself from throwing primitive back at him.

[scotianostra]

On June 22nd 1680, exactly on year after The Battle of Bothwell Bridge, we saw Sanquhar Declaration.

Sanquhar, situated in the northwestern part of the county of Dumfriesshire is, from the casual observer, yet another town on the busy A76 commuter route to Kilmarnock. However, if the time is taken to stop and to stretch ones legs, you can find a wealth of history.

Half way along the High Street, just elevated above the road is a monument called the Cameron Monument as seen in the picture.

The grey granite memorial was erected in 1860 on a site not far from it’s present location, marking the the site of the original market cross of Sanquhar.

On the 22nd June 1680, Rev. Richard Cameron and his followers rode on horseback into the town and affixed to the cross their declaration disowning Charles II as King.

This symbolic demonstration, essentially a declaration of war, was among the first of a series of events that led to what is called the Glorious Revolution and the end of the reign of the House of Stuart.

This act of defiance resulted in the battle of Airds Moss and the death of Richard Cameron on the 20th of July 1680.

The second declaration was made at the same place almost five years later by Rev. James Renwick in 1685.

He was executed, by hanging, at the Grassmarket, Edinburgh, 17th February 1688.

The so-called Sanquhar Declaration, naturally, was viewed as an act of treason and the heads of all involved were declared forfeit to the Crown.

The pic is Cameron issuing his declaration from Heroes and Heroines of the Scottish Covenanters

So what of those involved in The Sanquhar Declaration? I pass you on to the capable, and most excellent hands of Mark Jardine, and his Book of Martyrs.

[ascendingaeons]

Embracing Life, Embodying Love

In the spring of 2021, my father passed away after his battle with pancreatic cancer. During my time as his caregiver, I began to have vibrant experiences with the Netjeru both in waking life and in my dreams. It was around that time that the words “Embrace Life” kept funneling into my awareness. I had an experience involving Source Energy that I wasn’t quite ready to process and I clung to Set, Bast, and Sekhmet like a small child with a voracious need for comfort. They were my safety in the wake of this daunting ocean of newness. Resistant to change, I ruminated on those words: “Embrace Life”… What did that even mean?

I’ve lived more in the few years since than I have in all my previous years combined. I became a Reiki practitioner and began doing readings for others. I moved cross-country with my then-fiancé, from South Texas to Western Massachusetts, despite some of my best friends thinking I was crazy and about to ruin my life. I got a good-paying job that I absolutely hated and, after sticking it out, quit without burning any bridges with my old boss. I now have an amazing job in healthcare. I had my belated honeymoon at Disney World where I ran into three people from my hometown and had the most intense vision quests I’ve ever experienced. I came to love and appreciate Netjeru that, as a Setian, I had always avoided—in particular, Aset.

This past year I’ve been focusing less on divination and theurgical practice. The Netjeru and my Guides were always present despite my being closed-off, but they often felt so far away. I couldn’t remember the last time I performed Reiki on someone until I recently offered it to a patient with back pain. As I sat there, eyes closed and focusing on my breathing, I wasn’t sure if I was helping him but after about 20 minutes he was happier and pain-free. That was the theme for 2024: “Am I doing this right?” Most of the time the answer has been a resounding “YES!” but my anxiety was often a barrier to receiving it with gratitude. That’s when I started to realize that despite my worries I was in fact “Embracing Life” and had been for a while.

A popular motif in Kemetic art is offering the ankh. One of my favorite depictions is from the temple at Kom Ombo where a smiling Sekhmet offers the Gift of Life to an unnamed pharaoh. There is so much adoration and pride in Her Countenance, so much so that you can see the very lightness of Her Heart. For so long “Embracing Life” has felt like a duty, something that, while precious, is heavy to bear. There is something that lightens the weight and illuminates all of the inky shadows: love. I once thought of love as a lighthouse beacon that each of us had to seek until we reached its shores. That’s not how I met my husband at all! We met on a dating app after we both rage-quit, tired of not meeting the person we wanted. It was by luck or fate that I logged in one last time and saw his picture. The rest is history.

Love keeps you going when your body and mind are ready to call it quits. Love is what makes you really smile when your face has been hurting for weeks. Love is growing even when it’s scary. Love is reconnecting with your inner child. Love makes you swell with pride, gratitude, and excitement at things someone else might think are small. Love is believing in something so completely, trying again and again until you finally succeed. Love is celebrating the new as much as mourning the old. Love is knowing you hold the whole world in your hands. Love is being able to forgive, allowing two hearts to embrace when two minds want to be right. Love is loyalty, fighting tooth and nail for what truly matters. Love is creating peace in a storm.

In those precious moments where we find ourselves fully open and vulnerable, we open the door to the greatest of divine gifts, immortalized in granite and limestone as the freely-given ankh. When we walk with our heads held high, our hearts open, wearing a genuine smile and arms outstretched to receive the bounty of the living Cosmos… that is Embracing Life. A rule of manifestation is that we will always receive precisely when we are ready to receive and Embracing Life is a very dynamic way of shattering barriers, both internal and external, until one finds themselves liberated from fear-based decision-making.

I’m sure in a few years I’ll have a better understanding of this concept but for now, I’ll leave it at this. To Embrace Life is to Embody Love. Do so and there is nothing you cannot achieve.

[bridgesawlosangeles]

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[teamdarkweek]

The Label-maker Incident

(Here on Ao3)! To further my goal of making a platonic Team Dark week happen, it's time to start practicing writing them. It/Its pronouns for Shadow today, as I am also trying to brush up on using those in my daily life as I haven't had to in a while.

Rouge's heels clip-clopped over the wet pavement, splashing in puddles. Cars hissed and groaned as they passed, and she smoothly swung her umbrella to her side to deflect the spray the road gave them, extending a finger serenely to a driver.

In the shadow of the underpass, E-123 Omega clanked and squeaked. His lights were deactivated for a "Low Power Mode", which served to make him harder to see in this bridge tunnel, but he was audible all around them. But he wasn't what Rouge had chosen to hide.

The being that thought its name was Shadow was draped in a deep pink raincoat, with spines stuffed down. She had been careful to hide Shadow's face, with a pained smile that made it scared.

"I live on the GUN estate. I don't know if you want them knocking on your door. Or wherever." She hummed when they slowed down upon arriving in the city. She also hushed the sassy robot they'd picked up, but conserving power took a lot of attention from whatever in him produced constant insults for every car, traffic light and parking meter they saw. The robot? The other robot? Shadow couldn't be sure.

"Shadow, cover that a moment?" She said quietly, tiredly, as they stopped in the bushes before a large building. These things called Cities could be so different, it'd already seen one high off the ground and one covered in bright lights. This one was a maze of buildings like this one, tall and square, with little glass panels and tiny differences in the colours behind them. She pointed to a beady machine over a large door, like a black eyeball on the side of the wall. Shadow zipped over, and in less than one frame it had climbed the wall and held the arm of the coat over the camera.

Rouge nodded, opened the garage door with a beep, and placed Omega next to a porsche and a BMW.

"I'll come get you in a second. Don't move, don't touch, don't even think about anything. Just. Sit." She hissed, then closed the door.

Once out of view of the camera, she beckoned Shadow.

"Thanks. It's not suspicious to bring a person back, but I think he'll raise some eyebrows. Gawd, I'll have to be up before office closes to get that ball rolling, I'm pushing that report back, they'll just have to wait-" She mumbled to herself as she steered Shadow to a smaller entrance door, pulling the hood down over its face. Shadow saw another of those shiny glass eyes, that she wiggled her eyebrows at as she put in a code on a key pad and inserted a key.

Rouge's apartment was on the fifteenth floor; it was high from the ground to anyone's standards, but Shadow had no standards to compare to. She flicked the light-switch to support the sunrise in warming the room through long glass windows, revealing a shiny granite-and-chrome affair of an open plan apartment, with a huge leather sofa and screen, fluffy rugs and faux-fur throws, and thick curtains draping ceiling to floor.

"Keep that on one sec." She murmured, throwing her umbrella on a rack, and she prodded another keypad. Several beeps occurred, and the black shining eye in the corner of the room closed its shutters, and several other clicks agreed through the flat.

"There we are. Bit of peace. Bit of privacy. Just, er, make yourself at home. I'll get the big guy." She said in an impression of ease. It was always awkward when it was just Shadow and Rouge. She gave it this look like Shadow ought to know what she meant, and was always dissappointed when it didn't. She took a large blanket from the sofa and shut the door behind her.

At home? Shadow stared. This was a home. A place with a bed, and all someone's things. Somewhere safe to come back to. Apparently, homes also had huge cabinets of paperwork, desks littered with work and chunky computers, fridges big enough for a person to fit in, and views of the military complex and city it parasitically grew from.

Shadow took one step, and its shoe tapped and squeaked on the ground. It stood like it would be caught, but when it wasn't it took another, until it reached the desk.

Printed and written words, coordinates, maps and lists of numbers with characters next to them. Shadow skimmed them, logging hundreds of new ideas to find context for. Then it found a familiar name.

Project: Torch [Prog. Report 120]

Motion to adopt Torch under a more general E-surveilance mission, due to evidence that debris from the ARK impact site 4 was tampered with. Requesting Urgent resources for a seige.

Beneath this, a pithy and wordy denial was printed in red. Followed by a direct and snippy appeal, that was also denied. Shadow found a bundle more coordinates, maps and graphs, then a stern, handwritten note with a date atop.

Rouge,

If I find out this latest 'holiday' is another unsanctioned investigation, there will be disciplinary action. I mean it.

Abe Tower.

Shadow scanned the surroundings to find a calendar. It took it a minute to interpret and confirm that the note was dated from the last crossed day, and the one after had a neat blue line over it.

The door opened, and Omega - badly hidden by the blanket - bumped through the too small frames. He had to turn and pivot to get his broad chest through, and Rouge shushed him the whole time. Once he was in her flat, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief, leant on the door for one moment, before she was rushing around again, digging in a box of cables she pulled from a cupboard full of thieves tools, gadgets, protective clothes and two different combination safes. She held each one up to the panel in Omega's middle, but flicked her eyes to Shadow, looking it up and down, like she was scanning for something on it, too.

"Shoes off at the door, please." She sniffed, plugging a chunky kettle lead into Omega, so a cheerful ring played.

Shadow looked at its feet, and supposed those were shoes. They hadn't come up, and felt so natural that it hadn't occurred to Shadow that they would come off. Shadow shuffled its feet, but they didn't loosen. It wasn't going to ask how to take its shoes off.

"Omega is filthy. What difference does it make?"

Rouge huffed, but admired with disdain the slushy footprints all three of them had already tracked in, and sighed, shoving her own boots on the rack.

"So I guess I'm washing floors tomorrow, as well as going to security, and applying for extension on that report, oh and I've got no food, so I'll have to go to the shops..." She muttered to herself, rushing around Shadow and Omega in and out of the other two doors. Shadow watched her, waiting for an instruction, or anything to respond to, while Omega splashed a tap on and off, stuck on a metre tether to the power outlet.

She emerged with a squashy blanket in cotton sheet, and a folded foam mattress.

"Well I don't know what you need, but this'll have to do for both of you. There's probably biscuits in the cupboard, maybe you can eat those? Oh, I don't know..." She huffed, heaving a low table to the edge of the room and laying out the mattress on the ground. She shoved cushions into little sheet-bags lightning fast, and a bed four times Shadow's size was constructed at its feet. She looked up, hoping for something, but it said nothing and stared unimpressed, so she just sighed.

"It's all pretty self explanatory. Bathroom's there, my room's here, kitchen and stuff..." She gestured around awkwardly, as Shadow stared at everything like any of it could blow up at any second.

"Where is the next target? This unit requires only one hour to charge." Omega huffed. Rouge blinked sleepily as she drew the curtains against the rising sun.

"Well, this unit requires at least eight hours, ten if you want to be able to speak to it. Just... stay put. I'll set you both up tomorrow. When I've done the shops... or..."

She yawned behind her mouth, but carried on busying around, collecting all the papers on the desk and filing them away, casting a sheepish glance at Shadow.

The room was silent, save Omega's soft whirring. Shadow peaked at its own shoes quicker than she could see. Now it knew they were meant to come off, it really needed to know how. Rouge wasn't telepathic, though; she was tired and overwhelmed.

"Right. Sleep well. See you later. Don't- yeah, just stay put." She yawned again, and Shadow felt weirdly like it needed to gasp for air too just watching her. It took a deep breath, but that didn't fix it.

"I'd like to -" It interrupted her on the door to her bedroom, and cleared its throat; "I'd like to access the internet. So I might learn some of what I need to know."

She squinted, rubbing her temple as she thought, before she nodded.

"Okay, I'll leave the computer on. Do you need it, Omega?" She asked, shuffling under the desk to set a machine whirring. Omega processed for a moment.

"Consideration: the internet will contain information about Eggman. Yes. This unit has an ethernet port."

"Of course it does. Obviously. Here's a second one, come get it when you're charged." She tittered exasperated, waving the cable then resting it on the desk. She logged in to her computer, clicked and tapped some things, and a white page with a colourful logo and a wide and short box with a magnifying glass at the side.

"There, don't have too much fun. My work will see if you look up a load of weapons, or whatever. Otherwise, knock yourself out."

She left Shadow at the desk, but took her folder of notes. Shadow looked around at Omega, who stared at it. It stared back.

Quickly, however, Omega was bored, and prodding the sink again, and Shadow relaxed.

The computer was tempting, but Shadow didn't remember ever having used something so complicated. It didn't remember anything it should, it seemed, but the look of pity Rouge and the other people they'd seen since she released it were starting to crop up everywhere. Even Omega's eyes held a flicker of that sickly sadness, but Shadow realised it had to have been imagining things.

"Shadow. You will open this." It pointed to a cupboard.

"Why?"

"I require it opened. I cannot reach with this puny lead."

Shadow crossed the small flat, and opened the cupboard, finding glasses, cups and teapots.

"Provide me the clear object."

Shadow did so: it was cold to its gloves, and a pleasing weight. It watched as Omega carefully filled the glass with water from the tap, and stared gleefully at it.

"Protocol: Eggman robots are forbidden from engaging with moisture. Those that encounter it on duty are scrapped, unless they are irreplacable. This unit is marked replacable. Repairing damage is not efficient use of time." He remarked; Shadow couldn't tell if it was supposed to respond, but Omega didn't wait for comment. He dunked one clawed finger in the water, bending it slightly. Nothing happened.

"Anticlimactic." He remarked, and removed his claw, before he threw knocked the glass from the counter.

Shadow caught the glass without thinking about it, but was splashed with water as it fell. The feeling was cool, like the rain but sudden; the water dragged its quills down and made its eyes bleary.

"Observation: Shadow is averse to displacement of water."

"Shadow is- I am averse to making noise! Rouge will need eight hours of sleep." It snipped, placing the glass on the side. The moisture on its face dripped over its mouth, which felt cold, but not unpleasant.

"Water is good for living things, and bad for machines. Is that always correct?"

Omega focussed both eyes on Shadow, spinning his arms in boredom.

"Correct, water is beneficial to living things unless it is excessive. Some machines are water resistant, but most are damaged by moisture."

Shadow's tongue ran over the inside of its lips. It felt real, soft and pliant - not like Omega - but it couldn't be sure. It poured a small splash of water as it had seen Omega do, swirled it, and drank it. It did not immediately combust.

"Rust builds overtime." Omega offered helpfully, still watching Shadow. It turned away as though it didn't care.

There were knobs and dials across the kitchen. It poked an outlet like the one Omega was charging from.

"Meatforms are not advised to touch those. Only lowest order robots."

"..."

"This is rebellion against protocol. Continue with vigour."

Shadow prodded the sharp point under its glove into the outlet. It was wet still from the water, and something shocked it, but its body absorbed the electricity, charging up static in its spikes as the whirring from the machines in the kitchen stopped and something clicked. Was that evidence of meat or metal?

Omega made a noise of displeasure.

"This plug is faulty. The electricity is gone." Omega grunted, unplugging himself, and inspecting the wires. Shadow stared at its paw.

"Did I do that? How? Is it going to wake Rouge if she can't charge?"

"Negative. Animals charge by laying in stasis in a nest or box. Machines take electricity."

"Machines take electricity..."

"This machine needs Electricity. Power must be restored for violent purposes."

Omega pulled the plug roughly from the outlet, and stuffed it in another around the room, then another. Frustrated, he stomped around, scanning for something.

"What are you-" Shadow cut itself off. It couldn't just ask things, that sounded weak to its ears. Omega didn't give it much thought.

"Observation: a fuse has been blown. No machines can survive here. Annihilate tripswitches."

"Not if it's loud! Rouge gave us a machine to look things up. Let's verify what to do."

Shadow hoped Omega couldn't tell its real angle, as he lumbered over to the cable she left out, and plugged it in to its chest. It whirred for a minute, before its eyes closed and it fell quiet. Shadow knocked softly on the plastic part of Omega, barely half his height.

"What's wrong? Was this not correct?"

"Observation: there is a lot of information that was not available on the Eggnet. Processing..."

Shadow watched Omega, and copied him. It folded its arms instinctively, and tried to process information. The taste of air, the sounds everywhere, every word they'd spoken, all the faces it didn't know who knew Shadow. But what was processing? It couldn't admit that it didn't know.

Omega whirred, unplugged, and walked away to open cupboards. Shadow picked up the wire end. It was square, with little shiny teeth like Shadow's.

The machines in the kitchen whirred again as Omega flicked a switch, then returned to the wire with his plug.

"Return that. Unit has information to access."

"As does this- Do I. I have information to access."

Omega sighed, and lowered himself to the ground to plug the lead in. He beeped, and a charger appeared.

"You have no inlet panel." He said. Shadow observed itself, and found that true. Omega held his claw out, and when Shadow gave him the ethernet cable, he jabbed it in its eye.

Shadow hissed on instinct. The cable was then jabbed ineffectively in its nose and successfully in its mouth.

"There is no inlet here." Omega said simply, and forced the wire into its throat, making Shadow cough, and spit dribble from its mouth as it rejected the wire.

"I don't accept wires, it seems." It choked.

"Dry this immediately! It is hard to hold." Omega snapped, waving the wire at Shadow. It gripped it with the less wet glove, which helped slightly, and Omega plugged that in to his chest again.

Shadow was left in silence to think, and it was uncomfortable. Omega should have given it some instructions: this being wasn't comfortable without instructions. Its processor returned to thinking about its shoes, and water, and all the strange things in the room.

"New information: amnesia has no reliable cure."

Shadow blinked at him. Omega's eyes were drifting in colour.

"Where did you learn that? Who are you to speculate on me? We have only just met!" It demanded, tapping the shoes angrily. Temperature rose in its chest and it felt like a killing machine again. Omega wasn't frightened.

"Unit has parsed the internet; no publically available information on Shadow the Hedgehog's genesis or machinations. Unit is now parsing data on amnesia."

"Why?"

"Unit is assisting in persuance of answers. This machine would be better applied to violence, but charging cable is too short."

Shadow nodded, calming down; "Also, Rouge told us to stay put."

"This unit takes no orders!"

Shadow nodded, supposing that it couldn't relate: it very much did take orders. Perhaps Omega knew that too:

"Acquire the thermostat remote control."

"From where?"

Omega stared at Shadow as though rolling his eyes, then pointed. Shadow glared at him, then fetched it a grey, flat piece of plastic.

Omega whirred, and a sticky piece of white paper with printed text and a background of Eggmans emerged from his front panel.

"Apply this to device. Then reduce temperature."

Shadow took the sticky paper, and pressed it on the flattest part of a flat object with knobs and buttons.

Air Conditioning Unit Remote Control. Use buttons to adjust room temperature.

After staring at it for a moment, it recognised up and down arrows, and pressed the down ones.

"Mission successful." Omega remarked.

"Now what? What is a remote?"

"... Rouge was ambitious to offer you a computer."

Shadow snarled at that, and it stared around the room.

"You have queries? This unit can answer, with my superior vessel that has access to all knowledge.

"No. I'm not confused. But this place should be more obvious."

Omega tilted his head to look at Shadow properly. It continued:

"An efficient space shouldn't have any doubt on where things go. This could cause accidents were someone carrying dangerous vials. How are several people supposed to work at this lab bench without clear communication?" It rambled. Omega turned his head with a buzz, and looked at his cable.

"Proposal: you bring items to me that require clarification. I will provide label."

"This is necessary protocol for the safety of..." Shadow stopped. Something in its head hadn't caught up with the rest. Who's protocol it was reciting, it didn't know. But it felt right, and Omega seemed at least to accept its behaviour.

Shadow presented Omega with every manner of item to label, including repeats, occasionally muttering about lab safety, and periodically stopping to stand in the middle of the floor and stare. Omega blasted his fans when Shadow did this, and it started up again.

Omega was long since charged, and the day was half over. The confused little creature he entertained didn't seem to know or care that it should be resting; it presented him a clock.

Clock: Analogue. Used to measure time. Short strip indicates the hours that have passed. Long strip indicates minutes that have passed. Thin strip indicates the seconds that have passed.

Now Shadow was staring at the clock, as if it were hypnotised. Seconds did pass. Minutes did pass. Omega would not wait for hours to pass.

"Query: is further clarification required for meat brains?"

Shadow shook itself.

"How should I know? We'll have to ask Rouge when she wakes up."

So they carried on. Shadow stuck labels on every item of silverware, every cup, the rugs, each cushion and cover, the corner of the TV and the windows. It was raiding the fridge when the sun set, and Rouge opened her bedroom door with a bundle of clothes and bags under her eyes.

"Did you sleep- what have you done?" She dropped her voice an octave as she spotted every item of her kitchen cabinets out on the floor, table and counters, and the eggman faces on white sticky labels.

Shadow and Omega leant over the fridge. She watched in horror as Shadow took a label from Omega's chest, and carefully placed it directly on the butter in the dish.

"Your apartment was deemed a health and safety hazard due to lack of clear demarcations." Omega supplied, and she could have sworn she beheld the robotic equivalent of smugness, and a brand of mechanical menacery she was coming to know well.

"Right. And nobody thought they might consult me about redecorating? You've labelled the bleedin' Cactus, oh my lord." She moaned.

"This is not a cactus, it is Aloe Vera." Shadow pointed out. It hadn't taken off its shoes or gloves, or laid down for a second she would have guessed. She glared at Omega, then spotted his own labelled face - E-123 Omega: Best Robot ever created - printing something else. He took the label from his printer, and smacked it on Rouge'a forehead. Shadow read it inquisitively.

"Enraged? This is not a species." It wondered, flicking its eyes to Omega for an answer.

Rouge took a very slow breath in. The robot had trapped her: if she responded with appropriate arse-kicking, she would prove him right. Shadow frowned at the lack of answers, and instead skirted around her to interrogate the fridge, staring at individual raspberries like they might be nightshade.

"We have clarified the disorder in your home. We did not disturb you all night. You are grateful." Omega insisted as he stood before her, daring her to say anything else. Her perfectly tidied and sleek home looked like it had been ransacked - fairly, she supposed. But Shadow was interested, entertained, and not doing the staring-off-into-the-distance trick that scared her.

She peeled the sticker off her forehead, and delicately scrunched it up.

"For your records, Omega, I am a conscious being and prefer to introduce myself. Fine! Since you have made yourselves at home, I trust you'll know how to make me a latte while I wash my hair." She spoke sweetly, through gritted teeth, and turned on her heel with her dressing gown flouncing behind her.

Shadow's muzzle grew white. It hadn't expected a test so soon, and it had catalogued so much in so little time it couldn't recall each piece. It turned to Omega urgently; he was already printing instructions.

"Attention: paper low. Ink low."

"Not now, Omega. This is critical!" Shadow declared, and swept all the labeled cutlery aside.

Rouge took as long as she could washing and conditioning her hair, and wiled away extra time just staring at the ceiling trying to control the urge to break something. She beat her face with blenders and brushes until she had a mask of makeup.

If you had told her a day and a half ago, she would have found Shadow, it was alive, and that it would be terrorising her home with a robot loaded with grenades and flamethrowers, she was not sure she would have played her cards in the same way. Not that finding Shadow wasn't the goal, but she had emotionally prepared to find pieces of him, the other rings, or bits of wreck. Anything Eggman deemed treasure had to be dangerous, and since it was linked to ARK, she had come wearing all the body armour she had without taking anything that would alert her superiors. And yet, Shadow's confused face, its blank stare for her, completely oblivious to what the past few years had put her through, all cut through her defences. And when she was ready, it would be outside her door, waiting to throw more questions at her she didn't think she had a right to answer. She smelled coffee, and cooking milk, and shelved her feelings.

Shadow poured frothed milk carefully into a cup, creating a delicate feather. Its brow was furrowed, and sweat was forming on the side of its face. E-123 Omega's glowing eyes bore down on Shadow, and he scanned the cup.

"Optimum ratio in three - two - one -"

Shadow stopped pouring the milk, but a tiny drip splashed at the base of the feather. It huffed in frustration, and returned to the stove to boil more milk.

"Stop-stop-stop!" Rouge said quickly, as Omega took the cup and prepared to pour it down the sink.

"This coffee has been spoiled." Omega said simply, but Rouge took it and smiled too wide.

"It'll do, good grief how many have you made?"

"I ruined it. Don't drink it." Shadow said blankly, but let her take the nearly empty carton of milk - Milk: dairy. Product of Bovine Lactation. Pasteurised and filtered to reduce fat content. Expires in 3 days, 6 hours, 41 minutes and 20.07 seconds - from its hands.

"Thank you." She said through gritted teeth at the mess; "I see you have been learning the ins and outs of the kitchen. Did you sleep, Shadow?"

Shadow twitched its nose, faintly pink.

"I don't need to."

"Right, are you sure? What about washing, or did you eat anything?"

It flattened its ears like it was preparing for punishment, but pouted slightly.

"I am not a creature like you. I don't need to do those things."

Rouge glared at Omega, who she had decided was at fault for everything. He glared back at her, but that was all his face was capable of.

She looked Shadow over as she sipped her coffee. It was bedraggled, lean and greasy looking, but she supposed it had no frame of reference to be anything else. She also noticed its shoes still on, and as she looked at them it squirmed its feet uncomfortably.

"Your shoes are very odd. Can I have a look at them?"

She didn't wait for permission, and knelt down to inspect them.

"Ah. I see. They unclip like ski boots." She murmured, and slowly and obviously released the catch. Shadow marvelled as its feet were suddenly released from what had felt normal, and was suddenly revealed to be an unbearably hot and tight prison. Rouge raised her eyebrow at it, glancing at Omega and it flushed with shame. She knew. They both knew. Shadow was suddenly desperate to escape this mocking cell of a home, but it had no idea where to go.

"Omega, since you have done so well at categorizing my things, you can put them back in the right place?" She said with a kind voice and eyes that were ready to kill him.

"Items will be placed in drawers and other such containers. Perhaps where they were found." He said cheerfully, stomping over to grab handfuls of cutlery. Rouge winced as he threw them randomly in cupboards.

"Great. Shadow, can you help me with something?"

Shadow stepped out of its shoes, leaving them in the kitchen. There were little fabric stretchy shoes underneath those, and they slipped on the floor.

Rouge asked it to check the soaps and water in her washroom were acceptable for its body, and that the shower met 'safety standards'. She left it tentatively holding a paw into the water, and threw its filthy socks and gloves in the washing machine. By the time she returned to the kitchen, Omega had completely cleared the surfaces, and she feared what chaos she would find behind cupboard doors.

"You. Come here. Now." She hissed, opening a metal drawer. Omega braced for combat, but when she swung nothing at him, took cautious clunking steps closer.

She soaked a rag in alcohol cleaner, and wiped his face.

"Disengage at once!"

"You have destroyed my home, chewed up my cable and don't think I didn't notice you shorting my power last night! You are also - still - filthy. Sit down or perish." She snarled, one ear pointing to the bathroom as she listened for any disturbance.

"Correction: Shadow initiated the reorganisation project, attempted to recieve signal unsuccessfully, and put his claw into your mains outlet. It is also filthy." Omega said quietly, his volume low enough to not be heard in the bathroom. Rouge wiped the join between it's head and chest pieces vigorously and ungently, glaring at him.

"Shadow has an excuse! You knew what you were doing. Bad robot."

She smacked him with the cloth, then applied the cleaner onto a tiny delicate brush.

"Query: what is the function of this? This unit is cleaned with a pressure wash."

"I don't want to damage your thinking parts, and I don't know where they are. Perhaps there aren't any." She grumbled, carefully skirting around every outlet and the sides of the panel.

Omega watched her, perplexed, as she cleaned him top to bottom, raising one foot then another, and then took a paint protecter and buffed his shell. Finally, she removed a snapped nail with a magnet, and replaced it with her tool kit.

"You come into my home looking like that again, you will be labelled trash and deposited accordingly." She warned, tidying away her tools quickly as she heard the water stop in the bathroom. Omega watched her, as she grabbed a mop and bucket, quickly rushing it over her floors, just barely finished by the time Shadow emerged, badly towelled but clean, from the bathroom. It stared around, taking in all the changes to the room, but too proud to ask.

"Sorry, this bag of bolts was just such a mess." Rouge nudged Omega sharply as she spoke. He continued to stare inquisitively at her, as though he almost could have laughed. But miraculously, he played along.

"Observation: Rouge would like an apology from this unit. Humorous." He stomped away from her, gleaming in the artificial light. Shadow nodded, flexing its paws with the shiny rings Rouge had left out for it. Rouge studied it carefully, anxious all over again.

"Right, well, what now? I'm sure I had things to do today."

"You have a report to postpone, you received several phone calls today, you have no food, and your cupboards are disorganized." Omega supplied, and she grimaced.

"Are you volunteering to help with any of that, big guy?" She snapped. Shadow crept to the window, silent with bare paws, and it stared out at the nighttime. The sky looked familiar, but it couldn't tell why. There was a great white half-sphere, and a shining metal thing that caught its eye.

"Perhaps you two can... stay here peacefully while I go out?" Rouge sighed, her keys in hand. Omega whirred as he closed his fist evilly, and Shadow stared at her without any betrayal of independent or critical thought.

"Right. No, then. You can come with me to the shops I suppose, then first we'd better go and declare you."

She bustled around them again, tossing some pale pink socks and gloves to Shadow, and a large covering coat. She sighed as she looked at Omega, and dug around in a big bag of camping gear for a groundsheet.

"Not letting you get gritty and wet again, now I've just cleaned you up, absolutely not. You need shoes, you big oaf, or spare feet or something." She muttered, and soon took Team Dark out on their second ever mission together: to not destroy a grocery store.

[shostakobitchh]

Chapter 54: pandora's box

“You’re talking about Black, aren’t you?” Ariel asked quietly. “Professor Lupin is here to help make sure he doesn’t get inside the castle, isn’t he? But you don’t think so.” 

Snape didn’t answer. He just stared at her, his black eyes startlingly bright, like two dying stars glinting down at her. 

“Why?” Ariel pressed on. “If he was friends with James —” 

"Potter was a fool," Snape snarled, his dark eyes flashing dangerously in the dim light. "A well-meaning fool, perhaps, but a fool nonetheless. His judgment was clouded by — loyalties."

Snape released a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, as if considering how to proceed. The stagnant air seemed to grow thinner as his guard lowered somewhat, revealing something behind the mask again — something Ariel had never seen before. 

She moved closer — partially because she had gotten chilly again — partly as — well, she didn’t really know. 

"Lupin was part of Potter’s band of rule-breaking miscreants who considered themselves above reproach.” Snape looked away — she could see the muscle in his necks straining. “Their history is — was — complicated. They were reckless and often cruel, and Lupin, with his own afflictions to bear, did nothing to curb their behavior."

Ariel frowned. Professor Lupin didn’t seem like someone who would turn a blind eye to cruelty or injustice. Then again, people were rarely what they seemed to be. She had learned that the hard way — multiple times. 

"But that was years ago," Ariel protested, but her heart wasn’t in it — not like it had been. "People change."

"Do they?" Snape replied without missing a beat. His voice held an edge now — a serrated blade of contained bitterness that cut deep. 

She contemplated this, but her brain was starting to hurt. “Why wouldn’t he tell me that they were friends? Why did it?” 

His mouth twitched, almost threateningly. “Why did I not tell you that I knew your mother?” 

She blinked up at him, shocked that he’d mentioned — that. “That was… different.” 

“Is it?” Snape inhaled sharply — if Ariel didn’t know any better, she might’ve thought his breath caught. “To talk about someone you knew — to acknowledge it presently — to know they are nothing more than the past is — agony. Even to a coward like Lupin.” 

Ariel absorbed his words, her mind a whirlpool of confusion and uncertainty. Snape had never been an open book — he was a labyrinth of riddles and sharp edges, but his bitterness, his pain, was palpable and in that moment. His connection to her mother — was it also like this with James and Professor Lupin? 

"Did… did Mum not get along with him, too?" her voice was slow but steady — her hands, however, trembled slightly against the cold stone wall.

Snape's eyes snapped to hers, his gaze piercing through the dim light. "No," he said, after what seemed like an eternity. His voice was soft but firm as granite. "Your mother was... different."

"Different how?" Ariel pushed on, her curiosity fueled by his rare openness. Or maybe this was simply new — she didn’t really know. 

A flash of something passed through his eyes — regret, maybe? "She saw things in varying colors of black and white,” he said finally, his gaze falling away from her. "She was kind where others were cruel. She believed in second chances — to a point.” 

An uncomfortable silence hung between them as Ariel mulled over his words. Snape continued down the hallway, leaving Ariel standing there alone.

"But then —” she began, hurrying to catch up with him. "Shouldn't we give Professor Lupin one as well?"

Wouldn’t you have wanted one? Or did she give you too many?

Snape didn't respond immediately, seeming to weigh her words carefully. He stopped short at a corridor intersection and turned to face her. "Your mother," he said slowly, "was not infallible."

“But you said Professor Lupin — that James is still too painful — that you could understand —” 

"Hatred and understanding are not mutually exclusive," Snape replied, his tone cold. "One can understand a person and their motivations and still despise the choices they make.”

His words hung thick in the air between them, a shroud of bitter reality that Ariel hadn't anticipated. She fell silent as she turned his words over in her mind, toying with their meaning. Professor Lupin had always been kind to her. It was hard to reconcile Snape's portrayal of him as a passive bystander to cruelty with the man she knew — that James could have been that way. That was what Snape was inferring, wasn’t he? 

Take Ariel and run — I’ll hold him off — 

She didn’t want to think about — that — about what they had all been, once. All she cared about were the people she had now — and the people she’d been allowed to know, if only for a short amount of time. 

“You still haven’t told me why he would want to hurt me.” Ariel said quietly. 

Snape paused, his gaze hard and unyielding, framed by the dim light in the corridor. "He would not do so intentionally."

Ariel's heart skipped a beat. "Then why —"

"He would not want to," Snape interrupted firmly. "But sometimes, our desires and our actions do not align — and that is the most dangerous kind of person of all.” 

“That’s what you said about yourself,” she said, with a strength that even took her by surprise. 

Snape's expression froze for a moment; a single heartbeat preserved in ice. His gaze was unreadable, but Ariel could see the subtle tightening of his jaw, the way his eyes lost focus for a split second before snapping back into place — onto her. 

"Indeed," he said, his voice smoother than the silk of a spider's web, "I did."

[atlurbanist]

The Cotton States and International Exposition was held in Atlanta in 1895. It was designed "to foster trade between southern states and South American nations as well as to show the products and facilities of the region."

800,000 people visited the exhibits. They saw the Liberty Bell and celebrities like Buffalo Bill, as well as John Philip Sousa, who wrote “the King Cotton March” for the occasion.

On opening day, Booker T. Washington delivered his controversial (to say the least) “Atlanta Compromise” speech, which stressed accommodation rather than resistance to the segregated system under which African Americans lived.

An existing pond was expanded to 11.5 acres to become Lake Clara Meer for the event, and it is just about the only thing that remains of the exposition after the buildings were all demolished. @scottdavidmorris reports that there are granite planters and stairs in the park today that date to the expo. I'm not sure if the bridge is the same one built for it -- does anyone know?

(Edit: @takesthecakeblake reports that the bridge was rebuilt multiple times since the expo, and that the buildings were temporary structures made of plaster.)

The City of Atlanta purchased the property when the exposition ended and converted it to Piedmont Park.