#pyrite press

[writtensturn]

enamored II | m.s

PAIRING : matt sturniolo x fem!reader

GENRE : drama.

SUMMARY : after matt and y/n, announce their love for eachother to matt’s brothers nick and chris, she finds out something she shouldn’t.

!WARNINGS! : use of y/n, cursing, fighting.

part one here : enamored

ִׄ˚ • 𖥔 ࣪˖ ⭑ ₊ ⭒ *ೃ

“whatever you wants to be” matt spoke back to her almost instantly, his hand coming up to brush the strands of hair out from his bestfriend, and now lovers, face. she let out a huff of air while she shook her head and sat back down in her seat, the smile never left her face as she looked forward, reimagining the kiss they just shared. after years of knowing eachother she never thought this would happen, she was brought back from her thoughts when matt spoke.

“i want you to be my girlfriend” he paused as she turned her head back to him.

“i mean, will you? be my girlfriend?” she watched as his expression turned from a smile to becoming more anxious, while she stayed quiet.

“yes matt! a thousand times yes” she smiled as he leaned over again to lay a hand on her cheek, bringing her back to him reconnecting their lips. he pulled away to look at her before kissing almost her entire face, she laid her hands on the sides of his face as she laughed from his quickness.

“matt!” she let out turning from the feeling of him being on her, still new. the ride home wasn’t quiet, the car filled of their voices singing their favorite songs and soft arguing about the bad ones matt or she didn’t like. as they pulled into their driveway, she smiled as he turned off the car and ran to the other side to open her door for her.

“well aren’t you kind” she raises a brow at him, while she steps out onto their driveway. matt shoots back a smile at her while he opened the front door, they walked up the stairs of the triplets house to find chris on the couch on his phone and nick making mac and cheese in the kitchen.

“look who finally decided to come home!!” chris full of energy stood up and ran to her, picking her up and spinning her around a in a hug. she wrapped her arms around chris as she let out a laugh, spinning in the air. once she was put down she ruffled chris’s hair, causing him to gasp and mess with hers.

“chris leave my girl alone” matt said from the top of the stairs, his use of ‘my girl’ made her heart flutter. she smiled at him and looked back to chris, his expression dropped. she furrowed her brows and opened her mouth to speak before getting cut off.

“your girl? what are you dating her now?” chris scoffed and shook his head, taking his hands off of her while he walked back to the couch. she looked back at matt, not knowing what he was gonna say or if he was gonna say anything.

“yeah actually, finally made it happen.” matt spoke back to his brother while walking up to her, putting his arms around her shoulders as she stood behind her. she turned back to chris who just stared at her and flickered his eyes between them, once again as she was about to speak nick cut her off.

“HOLY SHIT? FINALLY” he walked over from the kitchen, pushing matt aside and hugging y/n. she chuckled through his arms, her hugging back.

“i’m so happy, but oh honey why him?” nick whispered into his ear making her laugh even more

“nick!” she said pushing him away from her while she rolled her eyes

“hey hey hey, i was just asking a simple question.” he threw his hands up in defense, she felt herself be pulled away and down the hall. she looked up to see matt leading her to his room, she usually stayed with him, but this time was different.

“use protection you’re only twenty!” nick laughed as matt shut the door

“gross nick!” she managed to talk back to him before matt shut the door fully

“gross, huh?” matt said turning to her, closing the gap between them.

“oh shut up” she shook her head while looking down from him. he immediately shut his mouth, by pressing his lips against hers. his hands running along her body. he led her back to the bed, her back pressing against his sheets while he stayed ontop of her, his hand running down her thigh, while the other held onto her waist. their lips moving in motion, he slid his tongue into her mouth causing the two to get more heated. she let out small whimpers into his mouth, causing his grip on her thigh to tighten.

“matt” she managed to mumbled through their slow kisses

“hm” matt moved through his lips as they peppered kisses down her jawline leading to her neck, but he knew it was to soon, he was getting ahead of himself quickly. he kissed back up to her lips once again, laying a soft kiss onto them. once he pulled away she smiled at him, matt tilting his head at her, causing her heart to melt completely.

“i have this thing tomorrow afternoon, i probably wouldn’t be back till three or four?” matt said getting up from over her, pulling his shirt off, getting ready for bed. she nodded as she slid off the bed and scrambled through her bag to find pajamas.

“yeah that’s okay” she spoke back to him, grabbing her shorts and a random shirt. she walked back over to matt to grab her phone, he sat at the edge moving his hands to her waist and pushing her closer to him. him hugging her legs as he pressed his head against her stomach, her smile grew using her one free hand to put around his back, her fingertips moving along his bare skin.

“matt let me change” she shook her head as he squeezed tighter around her

“no” he said giving her his attitude

“matt” she let out again

“fine” he pouted pulling his hands away from her legs and lifting his head from her stomach, she walked out from between his legs and opened the door to walk out of his room and into the bathroom. she looked in the living room to see nick eating his mac and cheese and chris on his phone, she smiled before opening the bathroom door. she pulled off her clothes putting her pajamas on, she pulled her hair up and brushed her teeth before walking out of the bathroom to see chris standing by the door arm out like he was gonna knock.

“hey sorry” she smiled holding her clothes

“it’s okay ma” chris nodded to her rubbing his hand down her arm, letting her go back to matt. she walked back into matt’s room seeing chris walk in the bathroom after her, she shook her head as she put her clothes back into her bag zipping it back up. she left in three days but didn’t wanna think about that now, especially when she had matt all to herself. she shut off the lights, leaving the light from his phone, that lit up his face being the only light. she crawled back into the bed moving towards her side, she heard matt’s phone turn off and get put on the nightstand. she looked over to him under the covers pulling her closer, she put her legs under the blankets moving next to matt, she watched as he laid his head in the middle of her chest, his arms around his waist hearing his sigh.

“mm someone’s tired” she mumbled down to him, his eyes already shut. she felt him nod and drift into sleep, a part of her wanted to go check up on chris, he was acting weird, but she knew she had to stay here. through her thoughts into the night, she finally let herself fall asleep, her hand stopping the motions of running through matt’s hair and her cheek pressed against his cheek.

next morning.

she woke up to the light peaking from matt’s blinds, she sat up slowly rubbing her eyes to adjust to the light, she notices matt isn’t beside her anymore she reaches for her phone to see the time is 11am. she rolled her eyes knowing the three were at their meeting, she groaned for a second as she answered her notifications and texted matt she was up. she got out of his bed and out into the bathroom, she turned the shower on and washed her hair, and the rest of her. a couple minutes later she came out and wrapped the towel around her, getting ready in the mirror with makeup and putting camo pants and a white crop top on.

she walked into the living room and turned on the tv as she waited for the triplets return

hours later she heard the garage door close, meaning they were home. she looked down from the tv to see nick and chris coming up from the stairs.

“hey how was the meeting?” she asked while looking at the two, her eyes now meeting matt’s with a smile as he walked up from the stairs.

“boring” chris immediately said back

“exhausting” matt added

“we got work done” nick rolled his eyes at their complaining, pointing out the obvious.

“oh fun” she smacked her lips together as matt laid on the couch next to her, laying his head on her lap, her hands ran through his hair gently her attention from him broken from chris’s voice across to them and next to nick.

“we’re also going to this thing tonight y/n” chris spoke to her but his back turned facing the kitchen

“oh shit yeah” nick added onto him obviously forgetting about it

“do we have to go, like honestly?” matt rolled his eyes

“it’s for youtube matt” nick spoke back to him from the kitchen

“go, i’ll be here when you get back.” she spoke from above him, not wanting to get in the middle of his career. she felt him groan from her legs as she let out a small laugh and shook her head. hours past of them cuddling and watching movies while the time past, making the hours feel like minutes. her eyes looked up as she heard a knock on the door and watched it open.

“you ready?” chris asked matt laying next to her

“uh yeah, hold on.” matt said sitting up and grabbing his phone, she heard the door close and she smiled at matt knowing he had to go which made him frown at her. he came close brushing the hair from her face and pressed his lips to hers before pulling away and standing up.

“i’ll text you, okay?” matt said before walking out of the room, she nodded and slouched into his bed. it was already 9:30, she knew they weren’t gonna be back till late. she nodded off into sleep from not texting matt to keep her awake, she woke up to the door creaking. she fluttered her eyes open slowly to see chris coming near her.

“y/n.. hey” chris spoke walking into his room and closing the door behind him

“chris hey, um what time is it? where’s matt?” she rubbed her eyes as she stood up

“i think you need to sit down princess” he let out with a sigh

“what? no? i’m fine, what’s up?” she shook her head while walking up to him, he let out a sigh as she walked closer. he shook his head and pulled out his phone, chris scrolled through his camera roll before clicking on a video, leaving her confused.

“y/n” chris spoke out again, she shook her head and grabbed the phone from his hand, obviously confused how he got here without the other two and suspicious towards him. she clicked play on the video to hear the loud of music and someone’s brown hair she recognized far too well, she felt her heart drop as her ears caught the faint chanting of matt’s name. she parted her lips as her heartbreat rose, her eyes watching him kiss another girl. she immediately froze in shock as she looked up to chris standing infront of her, his apologetic eyes saying everything for her.

“why’d you..” she couldn’t finish her sentence

“because nobody hurts…my girl.” chris tilted his head rubbing his fingers along her temple to brush the hair out of her face, his hand running down to cup her face. she let out a breath, feeling tears start to form in her eyes. she wasn’t hurt that her boyfriend cheated on her, she was hurt because her bestfriend the one she’s known forever, betrayed her, and found out from his brother. she shook her head as she backed out

“i can’t do this” she spoke to him, the tears beginning to fall.

“y/n, i’m so..” he was cut off by her shaking her head and moving to her phone to change her ticket

“don’t, what are you doing?” chris reached for her hand while she walked

“i’m leaving.” she looked up at him, not wanting to address her heartbreak from the one person she trusted more than her own family.

“don’t do that y/n, listen” chris spoke obviously realizing the mistake in telling her, feeling for his brother.

“leave.” she looked up at him, into his blue eyes, the same exact pair his brother had.

“chris leave.” she said as he sighed towards her wanting to reach out one more time but he turned around and walked out of his door, she changed her ticket to that night and ordered a uber. she zipped up her bag with her clothes before moving into his nightstand and writing out on paper, “i wanted better for us.” her tears fell onto the paper that she left on his bed, she moved her back into the living room where chris was. she shook her head towards him as he walked up to her not wanting to hear anything, all he did was wrap his arms around her, hugging her tightly. and that’s where the tears fell the hardest, she held onto him like it was her last life, and let it all out into him.

“i know baby, i know.” his voice just above a whisper as he held her against him, she heard the notification that her uber was here. she pulled away from chris looking at him for the last time before grabbing her bad and sliding her shoes on, she walked down stairs and got into the uber.

as she headed to the airport that’s when her phone started to blow up, matt must’ve gotten a notification that she left. she shook her head putting her phone on don’t disturb. she got into the airport after the drive, finding her gate and getting into the plane. she spent most of the flight in tears and trying to hold herself together before she got back to boston, she was up all five hours of the flight. once they landed and left the airport she got back to her house, dreading going inside not wanting to accept her reality.

she walked inside, closing the door behind her. she spent the next two days feeling nothing but empty, and alone. she stayed in her bed for the next two days doing nothing but sitting there, ignoring matt and his messages, and ignoring chris…but during the night on tuseday she heard a knock on her door, she thought it was mail or something not realizing the hour of the night. she stood up from her bed wrapping a tear filled blanket around her, she wiped under her puffy eyes and moved her bare feet along the floor before turning on the outside light. she unlocked the door as she began to open it. she looked outside to see the same blue eyes she spent her most of her life with, the same brown hair that pulled her into hell, matt.

“y/n.” matt spoke from her doorstep.

(uhoh? are we team matt or team chris…)

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Did you write about the Dark Mark already? I have to think how it actually works, and why no one knows about it if they can just like search the bodies of dead Death Eaters

Anonymous asked:

why didn't dumbledore tell ministry about dark mark as a tattoo? bc he not want to send snape to azkaban of it? i guess dark mark is a very big secter and only for small inner circle, the best of the best, 'friends', and when snape tells minister about it they don't understand neither sirius when harry tells him about karkaroff and how many people have dark mark? is regulus have it or not? (i rereading the cemetery scene in 4th book and can't normally count the de's, or maybe it is a plot hole by jkr) peter probably get it after 3rd book, after he's proof self 🤔

Okay, so I haven't really written anything detailed. I just mentioned here and there some elements of my thoughts here and there sprinkled throughout other theories.

So, let's talk about the dark mark and how/why it was such a secret

First, as always, we start from what we know:

1. The dark mark is shaped like a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth. It is placed on the left forearm of a Death Eater.

Voldemort bent down and pulled out Wormtail’s left arm; he forced the sleeve of Wormtail’s robes up past his elbow, and Harry saw something upon the skin there, something like a vivid red tattoo — a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth — the image that had appeared in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup: the Dark Mark. Voldemort examined it carefully, ignoring Wormtail’s uncontrollable weeping.

(GoF, 645)

2. The mark isn't for everyone and is considered a great sign of honor. Most Death Eaters and their affiliates aren't marked.

“No,” snarled Greyback, “I haven’t got—they say he’s using the Malfoy’s place as a base. We’ll take the boy there.” Harry thought he knew why Greyback was not calling Voldemort. The werewolf might be allowed to wear Death Eater robes when they wanted to use him, but only Voldemort’s inner circle were branded with the Dark Mark: Greyback had not been granted this highest honor.

(DH, 389)

As for how many are marked, Harry counts them for us:

and what use would it be to deprive Voldemort of his wand, even if he could, when he was surrounded by Death Eaters, outnumbered by at least thirty to one?

(GoF, 660)

So we have about 30 Death Eaters in the graveyard + Baty Jr + Snape + Karkaroff + 10 more in Azkaban (Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rabastan, Rookwood, Dolohov, Traverse, Gibbon, Jugson & another unnamed one I like to call Pyrites) + the dead ones from the first war (Regulus, Evan Rosier & Wilkes). This lands us at approximately 46 marked Death Eaters. So, while it is somewhat of a secret club, it's not that exclusive if you have about 50 members in a society of about 6,200 wizards as a whole.

3. The Dark Mark was kept incredibly secret during the first war and most of the Order (if not all of them) didn't know about it until the second war.

Even Sirius who was in Azkaban with almost exclusively marked Death Eaters, didn't know about the mark.

“He showed Snape something on his arm?” said Sirius, looking frankly bewildered. He ran his fingers distractedly through his filthy hair, then shrugged again. “Well, I’ve no idea what that’s about . . . but if Karkaroff’s genuinely worried, and he’s going to Snape for answers . . .”

(GoF, 532)

4. The Dark Mark allows Voldemort to know where his Death Eaters are and they can "call him" via the mark.

“And now,” she said in a voice that burst with triumph, “we call the Dark Lord!” And she pushed back her sleeve and touched her forefinger to the Dark Mark. At once, Harry’s scar felt as though it had split open again.

(DH, 404)

5. The mark allows Voldemort to call his Death Eaters to him.

He pressed his long white forefinger to the brand on Wormtail’s arm. The scar on Harry’s forehead seared with a sharp pain again, and Wormtail let out a fresh howl; Voldemort removed his fingers from Wormtail’s mark, and Harry saw that it had turned jet black. A look of cruel satisfaction on his face, Voldemort straightened up, threw back his head, and stared around at the dark graveyard. “How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?” he whispered, his gleaming red eyes fixed upon the stars. “And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?”

(GoF, 645)

6. It likely is able to inform him when a Death Eater is dead. I mentioned in my post about Regulus how odd it is that the Death Eaters seem to know he died when really, he could've run away. But they all knew Voldemort killed him for being a traitor, meaning, Voldemort is the one who told them he died. How did he know? The Dark Mark.

7. And the mark clearly knows when Voldemort is dead.

It appears red when he's in weakened wraith/homunculus form, and then when he lives and activates it it becomes black:

He pressed his long white forefinger to the brand on Wormtail’s arm. The scar on Harry’s forehead seared with a sharp pain again, and Wormtail let out a fresh howl; Voldemort removed his fingers from Wormtail’s mark, and Harry saw that it had turned jet black.

(GoF, 645)

Becomes clearer when he's getting stronger:

“Severus, you cannot pretend this isn’t happening!” Karkaroff’s voice sounded anxious and hushed, as though keen not to be overheard. “It’s been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, I can’t deny it —” “Then flee,” said Snape’s voice curtly. “Flee — I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts.”

(GoF, 426)

And a faded scar once Voldemort was dead for good.

8. The Dark Mark can be used for the Death Eaters to communicate with each other:

“Really?” said Professor McGonagall. “And what gave you that impression?” Snape made a slight flexing movement of his left arm, where the Dark Mark was branded into his skin. “Oh, but naturally,” said Professor McGonagall. “You Death Eaters have you own private means of communication, I forgot.”

(DH, 506)

How the Dark Mark Works Magically

So, I mentioned it in the past, but I think there is some soul magic involved in the Dark Mark. Considering it is aware of whether its host (the Death Eater) is alive or dead and how they all connect to Voldemort, I feel it's pretty safe to say soul magic is part of it.

The fact Harry feels his scar whenever the mark is used to call Voldemort or used by Voldemort to call his Death Eaters (as illustrated in the above quotes) just strengthens the soul connection since Harry is, as we know, a Horcrux.

I don't think the Dark Mark uses a Protean Charm like the DA coins, but a different method. Mostly since a Protean Charm charm isn't needed. It's what caused the numbers on the coin to change, not what caused them to burn up.

A spell I do want to bring up is the one used to paint the Dark Mark in the sky: "Morsmordre"

(As an aside, that's like, the most evil-sounding spell in how it's pronounced in my opinion. It's all these 'R's)

The spell is most likely comprised of the Latin "mors" meaning "death" and "mordere" meaning "to bite". Literally translates to "To bite death" AKA Death Eater. And I think this spell is the same one used to make someone a Death Eater, or at least to mark them as one.

I also headcanon that only marked Death Eaters (+ Voldemort) could cast Morsmordre on the sky. Like, if some random cast the spell it wouldn't do shit. It makes the whole situation with Winky in GoF more heartbreaking. But also, I don't think anyone there really knew that the spell was limited use, as no one tried to cast it after the first war, probably. But I don't really have evidence for this.

Back to the Dark Mark brand:

The dark mark is mentioned to be burned on one's skin, beside creating a burning sensation when Voldemort calls:

“There,” said Snape harshly. “There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord.

(GoF, 709)

This makes me think the mark looks burned. Like if you used a hot piece of iron to burn the mark on someone's skin, like a brand.

Now, fire is an interesting element, and, alchemically, one of the elements that corresponds to the soul along with air. Air, though, is also part of the spirit, the fire is only part of the soul as the soul is the one carrying the spark, so to speak.

And I think the idea of them looking like a branding is accurate — because that is exactly what the dark mark is. It's a brand. It's a sign of possession. In various cultures in the past, slaves were branded in a similar way. A sign of ownership that you and your soul, in this case, aren't your own.

So, I think, to mark someone, Voldemort would cast Morsmordre on their arm. This will burn the mark on them, which I assume would feel like a brand being burned on (which is also how it looks, it does not look like a tattoo).

But what does this have to do with the name "Death Eater"?

Well, both the organization and the spell share this language. both meaning to eat death, and I wondered why. So, I looked up various folklore/myths that could refer to a "Death Eater" and I found some interesting ones.

In Ancient Greece and Rome, for example, apparently, Fava Beans were often treated as symbols of death and decay. Some even said the beans contained souls and that eating them was akin to cannibalism. I don't think it has anything to do with the Dark Mark, but I found it interesting.

Of course, there is the Greek myth of Persephone, who is trapped in the underworld by eating pomegranate seeds.

I also considered a connection to sin-eaters. Who were usually poor people invited to funerals and paid to ritualistically eat the sins of the deceased so they could move on to heaven in Ireland and Wales.

However, my favorite theory is one I'm not the first to pose. I don't remember where I read it, but I read a post from someone who mentioned the name 'Death Eaters' reminded them of 'beefeaters'. The term refers to the Yeomen Warders who guard the tower of London. Some etymologists believe the term 'beefeaters' originates from the old English: 'hláf-æta', literally meaning 'bread-eater' but was a word used to refer to a servant, while others argue it could originate from an old French term: 'buffetier' which also means servant.

That, to me, sounded perfect. It fits naturally in with everything.

'Death Eaters' then is then a play on an old English term meaning 'servent', except, the 'bread' from that word was replaced with death, both for Voldemrot's obsession with death and the connection to the life and soul I mentioned earlier.

I also would like to mention that the change of 'bread' to 'death' makes the term sound more permanent. Like they are to remain Voldemrot's servants until they eat death (until they die). It basically marks their soul forever. It brands them.

So, magically, the dark mark makes someone Voldemot's servant for life. It binds their soul to the network of marks that are all tied to Voldemrot's own soul.

This is where that sin-eater connection I mentioned earlier might be relevant. A sin-eater ritualistically eats a person's sins, a part of them in a way. So, I think, with the dark mark, it's something similar. Magically/symbolically, they eat Voldemrot's sins — a part of him.

So, to summarise this section:

The spell Morsmordre is likely used to mark a death eater. The mark is burned and acts as a weak soul tether between Voldemort and all his Death Eaters like a weird network. The mark is a branding, it looks burned and it brands them as Voldemort's servants. The spell 'Morsmordre' literally means to bite death or eat death and refers to the Death Eaters' name. A name that practically calls them Voldemort's servants until their death.

Why the Secrecy

Well, I think this one is pretty obvious. You'd rather the mark that basically broadcasts who's a trusted follower to the world not be common knowledge. Not only that but it's stated by many characters that during the first war, Death Eaters didn't really know who the other Death Eaters were. Everyone knew Voldemort, and only knew each other or about plans on a need-to-know basis.

At least, that's how they operated in the first wat. Death Eaters in the first war are closer to a cult than in the second one.

They operate in secrecy.

All the following and operations revolve around a single leader everyone knows and worships.

Most don't even know each other from how secret they are.

Their clothes — masks, robes, and hooded cloaks all fit in with this cult-like imagery.

In the second war, it was different though. I spoke in the past about how the second war is very different from the first one. How it ran, the number of casualties, the approach of Death Eaters towards the ministry, and vice versa.

In the first war, Voldemort was around, hushing up a lot of their involvement and creating this air of fear and mystery around his cult. In book 5, the DE are just as secretive and hushed up in their operations at the beginning of the first war, but during book 6 and into book 7, Voldemort isn't as present. So, they allow themselves more. They stop hiding because no one is telling them to.

So, in the second war, we see society as a whole is much more aware of the dark mark and the Death Eaters.

How Come No One Tells Fudge

First I want to talk about how they didn't see it on dead bodies of Death Eaters or on imprisoned ones, and, well, I have a guess.

Karkaroff and Snape mention how the dark mark darkened throughout year 4, becoming more and more red. It's possible, that right after Voldemort was defeated, when most Death Eaters were arrested and killed, the mark likely was incredibly faded and barely visible. It looked like an old scar and probably didn't garner much attention and was easy enough to conceal with magic for people like Lucius Malfoy.

As for why Dumbledore didn't tell Fudge in the second war, I think he did tell Fudge. Fudge likely knew about the dark mark and it didn't matter. The whole point of book 5 is that the ministry is corrupt. Fudge knows Voldemort is back, he believes it, he just doesn't want everyone else to think is. He is desperate to show competence and get reelected, Voldemort returning in his time is not a good look.

Basically, I don't think Fudge was ever a convincing problem, he knew Dumbledore and Harry were telling the truth — and he didn't care.

[whitherwanderer]

4 // reticent

Accessing Everkeep Data Terminal Network . . . Please remain still for regulator scan or insert identification tag. Verifying user registration . . . User PYR-0562 registration verified. Access granted. Welcome back, Pyrite. Memory storage shard detected in port A. Displaying memories. IMG_1051 IMG_1052 IMG_1053 IMG_1054 IMG_1055 IMG_1056 > IMG_1055 Loading IMG_1055 . . . Loading failed. Memory corruption detected.

Blue light from the terminal screen cast a sickly glow across the room, making a sleepless Pyrite look all the more weary as her eyes strained against the blocky remnants of a corrupt image. Despite the distortion of the image turning the figures pictured into little more of a hint at a person, she could recognize herself in one of them; the suggestion of a smile on her face, her arm slung around a brunet man that could be none other than Galena, though she had no recollection of this moment preserved in light.

He had long since awoke and found her there, alert but not wholly present, as she delved into their personal records. She could still feel the press of his lips on her cheek before he left their darkened apartment to begin the long trek out to the driftdowns. She only opened the image back up when she was sure he was long gone.

Between them in this disembodied memory, observed secondhand through a broken lens, was a third figure.

Younger. Much younger. Not more than ten years old. Held in their arms with a certain pride she could almost remember feeling once. Blonde, like her, but otherwise featureless. The conclusion was as obvious as it was maddening. But when? How?

The longer she stared, the more it ate at her how much was missing. A name she wanted to call out in a long-learned habit, though her tongue could never quite form the syllables. A face she could almost see in the white, flickering moment as her eyes closed, but something always pulled her away from recognition of a face. Everyone was aware of the cloud. Everyone had these holes in their memory. So why did this eat at her so?

The blinking prompt beneath the image tempted her sorely. She had already found the futility in taking up its offer, however…

Repair IMG_1055? [Y/N] >  Y Repairing IMG_1055 . . .

What is it they say about the definition of insanity?

She watched the loading bar fill, tick by painful tick, until there came a chime at the door that, for all its intended pleasantness, nearly sent her to the floor with a jolt. “Who’s there?” she calls.

“Pyrite? It’s me,” a young woman called over the comms unit just outside, “Sphene.” Pyrite froze in her seat, her blood set to ice. She clapped the terminal closed and kept her hand atop it as if it might shout her secrets if she didn’t, then looked down to examine herself.

“I apologize for calling upon you at this hour. I haven’t woken you, have I?”

“No,” Pyrite calls back urgently. “No, I was already awake. Just- just give me a moment to get myself decent, your Majesty.”

“Oh! By all means.”

Fully clothed, but caught obviously unprepared for any guest, let alone the bloody Queen of Reason herself. Not that Sphene was known to judge, but the impropriety of greeting her barefoot did cross Pyrite’s mind. So too did the thought of keeping her waiting at the door.

Pyrite hurried to the entrance, pressing her hand to the pad beside it that saw the shades open and the lights of Solution Nine to fill the room before another press lifted the door, revealing the young queen’s expectant, spring green stare and warm smile. Coiffed, crowned, and poised, wide eyes and the wringing of the young queen’s hands indicated something was troubling her, but she brightened the moment Pyrite smiled back at her, however wearily.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting, your Majesty,” she Pyrite offers, harried though it is, and the queen’s eyes close with a gentle shake of her head.

“Don’t be, my dear Pyrite. It’s still quite early,” the regent assured. She paused, looking back over Pyrite’s shoulder for a moment before smiling to politely inquire. “May I come in?”

Pyrite was keenly aware she’d been sorting through the records and attempting repairs for hours now. The Everkeep administrative systems would have caught it, wouldn’t they? The visit from the queen couldn’t be a coincidence.

Her smile widened from ear to ear. Why did this feel like a guilty conscience on display? “‘Course. Please, come in.”

As Pyrite stood aside to let the young queen enter with polite thanks, her hands were kept folded neatly at her middle. Her scintillant dress cast prisms of light about the floor, turning as she did once she reached the middle of the room. Pyrite touched the pad against the wall once more and the door slid closed, quieting the distant sound of Sphene’s name called down the hallway.

The resulting beat of silence frayed Pyrite’s already buzzing nerves.

“Restless morning?” she asked the queen. An attempt at smalltalk to soothe the nerves. It was not so long ago that they gossiped like schoolgirls after all.

“Restless is… one way of putting it,” the queen tone nearly touches upon sardonic humor. This does little to put Pyrite’s nerves at ease.

“...How have you been, Pyrite?” Sphene asks tentatively, turning to look upon Pyrite with a smile that spoke of genuine concern. Like a check-in after an illness. Why did the queen’s once-comforting visits now feel like interrogation? “You look well, and that is heartening enough. I hope the same goes for dear Galena?”

“I am, and so is he,” Pyrite said cooly, motioning towards the sofa. She didn’t take a seat until the queen accepted the offer, happily perching on the edge of the cushion and smoothing her dress over her lap.

“But somehow I get the feelin’ you didn’t come by just to tell me I looked well,” Pyrite remarks lightly, and Sphene’s eyes glint with delight.

“Ah… subtlety has never been my strong suit, has it?” the queen admits, casting her gaze to her knees. Her smile remains warm. “In truth, I was rather worried about you and Galena.”

Play dumb, instict told her. “Worried? Why for?” Pyrite asks, sitting back. Was this too casual? Did it read as too confident?

“I heard a spot of troubling news from the hunters afield in the Thunderyards. That one of our valiant huntresses had suddenly handed in her notice of resignation…” Her Majesty hints, jeweled gaze lifting to the fool’s gold of her host’s.

Pyrite clicks her tongue. “Loudmouths, the lot of ‘em,” she jokes, and Sphene lifts her fingers to her lips to giggle. The apparent ex-huntress sighs, her head tilting to one side. “They speak true, I’m ‘fraid. I’m lookin’ fer new work. Somethin’ to keep my edge honed. And the change is… welcome, I suppose.”

Not a complete lie. Not the whole truth, either.

“Ah, so that’s the way of it. New employment,” the queen surmises with approval in her tone. “Blessed are we to have ambitious people like you seeking new challenges and finding more ways they might serve our fellow Alexandrians. I do not doubt your skills can be put to good use elsewhere, within the keep or without.”

She pauses, her hands folding on her lap again to wring gently. Here it comes, Pyrite tells herself with an inhale. Surely this wasn’t honest trouble, was it? It was only their personal records, their rightful property, And she can’t have been the first to go digging through the past. She certainly wouldn’t be the last. Could it really be so dangerous to go fishing for memories lost in the cloud?

“...I gather Galena also seeks such new challenges?” comes a tentative worry, and the young queen’s smile is one of honest apprehension. “I spied him at Mosaic this morning and I couldn’t help but notice that he had forgone the use of a regulator.”

Pyrite’s lip is pinched between her teeth, but she manages to finally exhale. So that’s what drew the queen’s attention to them. Washed over with the relief that her prying into the past would have consequences for herself and her husband, she could speak to the Queen of Reason with some degree of candor. Sphene, for her part, did seem honest in her concern. Her delicate hand pressed to her chest as she made plain her case.

“Just this month we’ve seen a one hundred and sixty-eight percent increase in soul use among the reforgers. Of course we cannot accurately capture full scope of the risk with so many who don’t wear regulators, but we’re still seeing a rate of nearly ten accidental deaths per year on average, seven of which are caused by aggressive wildlife and the other three—”

She stopped herself short, and Pyrite realized how deeply furrowed her brow must have been as Sphene began to cite statistics they were both fully, painfully aware of. Galena wasn’t just taking a risk in choosing not to wear the regulator and continuing to operate in the field; it was downright recklessness. But it was still his choice, and Sphene knew this.

Both took a beat to release their tension, the queen adjusting herself to face her host fully, her smile apologetic. Pyrite obliged her with a tired smile of her own.

“I’m sorry,” Sphene laughs, pained but earnest.

Pyrite forgives her with a shake of her head. “You care for him. Couldn’t possibly be cross with Her Majesty for worrying over her subjects’ well being.”

“I do care for him, just as I care for you, Pyrite,” the queen agrees quietly. “Queen or not, you are dear friends to me, and I would do anything within my power to make your lives as happy and fulfilling as I can, even if that means merely providing a listening ear. So please, know that if there is anything you would like to talk about—anything at all—you may confide in me as you would any other.”

Her plea is honest, heartfelt. Pyrite knows well that the queen’s word is her bond, even as she smiles cooly. “I appreciate it, Queen Sphene. Truly, I do,” Pyrite tells her. A part of her doesn’t lie. “Might be I’ll take you up on that someday.” Both know, of course, that the offer would remain on the table. Untouched.

Sphene’s smile wanes, gladdened, but plainly disappointed. She seemed to recognize the appropriate time to leave her host to her thoughts, and rises to her feet. Pyrite follows suit.

“I shan’t press. Ever have you kept your counsel, and to ask it of you now may well be brazen indulgence, I fear. I ask no more of you except that you forgive me if I’ve overstepped.” Sphene’s expression wanes pleasantly apologetic before she takes a determined step towards the door with Pyrite close behind.

With the press of the door panel and the hiss of hidden hydraulics, the sound of conversation down the hallway fills the silence once again. Pyrite soaks in the relief of nearly having her privacy once again, until Sphene’s hand catches the door.

She turns, her voice lowering. “If I may be brazen once more, might I prevail upon you to ask Galena if he would reconsider the use of a regulator? I wouldn’t presume to disrespect his choice but…” It’s she that bites her lip this time. “It would break my heart to learn that tragedy had struck and I was powerless to keep his memory safe.”

Pyrite blinks, unmoving. It takes a moment for her to remember to offer some sort of condolence in the form of a nod and a smile. “I’ll talk to him, Queen Sphene,” she promised. She did not promise the content of that conversation, but Sphene smiled gratefully nonetheless.

“That is all I ask. Thank you, Pyrite. Be well.”

Pyrite watches her depart, motes of refracted light following her across the floor as she is excitedly flagged down by the small group conversing down the hallway, eager to catch up with the young queen. She pushes off the door and closes it, breathing in the silence.

But a few steps to her terminal to check on the progress of the repairs, and she is unsurprised to see it report failure to repair yet again. The error code is frustratingly familiar. 

Unable to repair. Error code: ORIG-0053

But perhaps it wasn’t a dead end. She taps at the display, punching the code into the database for a workaround or some other solution—bootleg or otherwise. She couldn’t have been the first to attempt this.

Instead of solutions, however, she is greeted by a message.

Please, do not despair. Your precious memories are held in the Cloud for safekeeping until such time as you are ready to reunite with them. Until then, I ask only for your patience. All will be well.

The terminal is slapped closed again, and Pyrite silently seethes for reasons she doesn’t quite understand. There must be others who went looking and shook with silent rage for all the answers that seemed to slip through their fingers. There must be.

She just had to find them.

[occasionallysiren]

pure fluff cause im just that nice <3 /silly

"You have gills," Captain says softly in the tentative quiet of their quarters. Pyrite groans mumbles something unintelligible into their neck, still half asleep.

They're both curled up in Captain's hammock--they had insisted on one, even when they could afford a proper bed--separated from the rest of the room by a curtain that lets the glowing morning light bleed through. Pyrite's laying on top of them, face buried in their neck, legs tangled. Captain's been carding their hand through Pyrite's hair since they woke, occasionally tracing his horns, though Pyrite notices that the hand has stilled now.

"Gills," they repeat, "you have gills on your neck."

Pyrite says something that sounds still like a whole lot of gibberish as his tongue wakes up and he digs his hand out from where it's been stuck behind Captain's back for the whole night and brings it slowly up to his neck.

His fingers brush against slight jagged lines on his neck, and to his quiet surprise they do feel like gills, slightly feathery. He feels them flutter as he breathes.

"Huh," he says through a yawn.

Captain gently pulls some of his hair away from his neck and tucks it behind his ear, tracing the pointed shape of his ear. "Did you always have gills?"

"I dunno. Probably."

"You never noticed them before?"

"Well, you didn't either."

Captain hums and places their hand back in Pyrite's hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead. They can feel his smile as he hides it in their neck.

"Can you breathe underwater?"

"Yeah, 'o course," Pyrite mumbles, already falling back asleep, "you've seen me swim before."

"Mhm," Captain says, feather light, as Pyrite once more relaxes into them, "can you talk to fish?"

"If they're nice."

Captain laughs, "Atti says that fish don't talk to her."

"That's 'cause Atti's too cool for fish."

"That doesn't make sense, Pyrite."

"Mhm! Come back later, gone fishin' for dream fish." hes slurring his words now, voice muddled. "Goodnight, Captain."

"It's the morning."

"Nope." And then he's out.

God, Captain's so in love with him.

[ladyiristheenchantress]

Crystals and Salt

Hello! I have recently had a lot of people ask me about salt, crystals, cleansing, and damage, so I wanted to quickly make a post about it! I felt like this information could be helpful for my crystal friends!

First: What is salt cleansing? Where does it come from?

Salt cleansing is the process of using salt too energetically remove negativity or spiritual damage from a crystal while also boosting its own natural energy. Often times this process is simple, lay your crystal in a bed of salt and let it rest and recharge for 15-30 minutes. This historically comes from Mesopotamia when people would dress food products or clean themselves they used salt because of its anti-bacterial properties and it was said to protect from negative spirits. We also know that every culture on the planet had spiritual interactions with salt, like the Kalahari salt ritual where salt is considered sacred because it dries and stores food in travel. Salt rituals can be found in native folklore as well as in new age spaces for its protective and purifying abilities. Scientifically salt has been used to cure, dry, and preserve food and items like flowers for millennia, it also has been used as a saline solution when people are injured because of its antimicrobial properties, hence its associations through time!

What crystals cant go in salt?

While yes, I could start with crystals that are salt safe HOWEVER I feel like we are oversaturated with that information as most crystals are salt safe, I wanted to really explain what crystals cant go into salt, why, and what exactly happens. This is the pressing question that inspired this post, while a lot of crystals can go in salt, there are plenty that cannot! This is because salt is not only abrasive and can damage some soft crystals, but it also can lead to chemical reactions on some of them, so below is a list of guidelines and basic crystals that do not belong in salt.

Any crystal under 7 on the Mohs Hardness scale do not belong in salt beds or salt water. This is because it not only can scratch these stones, however you have a higher chance for reactivity in some of these raw crystals.

Example stones:

Jasper (cracks and breaks)

Fluorite (scratches, cracks, and disintegrates)

Rhodonite (Scratches, chemically reacts)

Bloodstone (Disintegrates)

Malachite (Breaks apart)

Sodalite (Discolors, cracks)

Moonstone (Debatable, experts are torn, better not to risk it)

Calcite (Scratches, some possibly react)

Selenite (Scratches, Disintegrates)

Kyanite (Disintegrates)

Apatite (Disintegrates)

Celestite (Breaks, Disintegrates)

Alabaster (Disintegrates, breaks)

Amber (Deforms, breaks)

Angelite (Disintegrates)

Azurite (Disfigures, Disintegrates)

Hematite (Discolors, possible reactions)

Jet (Disintegrates)

There are many others ranging from opal to pyrite, so here are some general rules of thumb to follow

If it end in -ite chances are it is not salt safe

If its under 7 in hardness its best to triple check if its safe

if it is raw triple check it wont react with salt

If its glittery (example: amazonite) it looses luster in salt

If its reactive to water, salt attracts moisture in the air, you need to triple-check (ex: angelite)

anything reactive to basic solutions (salt water has a PH of 8.1 which is quite basic)

I hope this helps! I know this is not a perfect list, or even a perfect post, but I hope this helps some people along on their researching journey!

Resources:

https://www.rockcollage.com/single-post/crystals-that-get-damaged-by-salt https://www.allcrystal.com/articles/list-of-crystals-that-can-go-in-salt/ https://moonsoulmagic.com/crystals/are-my-crystals-safe-in-water-or-salt/ https://writeralpha.com/gemstone/salt-safe-crystals

Tip Jar

[polyhexian]

eventually au - idea of a soft moment that's been rotating in my head all day:

Hunter wakes up in his room at Jasper's place at like 4AM from a bad dream - not the wake-up-screaming kind, just the familiar-but-upsetting, relieved-when-you-realize-it-was-just-a-dream kind that leaves you feeling crappy cuz this isn't how you wanted to start your day but you know you aren't gonna be able to go back to sleep after that. So he gets up and heads to the kitchen where Jasper is already up earlier than he should be for probably the same reason, making tea or coffee or something.

And like, they don't even have to say anything, cuz they just Get It. And sure, it sucks, but they're both so used to it sucking that they don't even need to think about how much it sucks, they can just enjoy the fact that it's nice that the other one's there and they don't have to Talk About It. Jasper just pulls out another mug and after the drinks are ready they go sit outside - I imagine Jasper's cave would not have had an obvious entrance or anything while he was still playing dead, but maybe by this point it does, maybe they spent a weekend building a patio together for fun, and there's flowerpots full of plants that Willow's left around.

So they sit outside together. Flapjack's with them, and maybe Pyrite too by now. And maybe Hunter leans into Jasper's side, and maybe Jasper puts an arm around Hunter (but not on his shoulders, not like Belos would), and maybe Hunter feels his dad press a kiss to the crown of his head. And they just sit there together in silence and sip their drinks and watch the stars turn to sunrise.

Op I'm going to throw up I love this so much. Soft................

[ursafootprints]

hello hello! from the fic writer asks!

8. if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

18. if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

22. do you ever worry about public reaction to what you’re writing? how do you get past that?

8. if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

I am intending to write a sequel to Pyrite and a threequel for the wicked love Starkercest series! And other than those the one that I think has the most story potential for a sequel is double-blind since I left so many dangling threads, but I'm not planning to write one, haha. We'll see if that changes! (I also was not initially planning a threequel for WL, but then all the sad questions on the askblog wore me down, lmao.)

18. if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

Let's see! I still had this scene from chapter 13 of YNYD hanging around in my planning doc, Peter and Tony discussing how they're going to break the news to the rest of the team now that they aren't actively trying to keep their relationship under wraps:

"Are we going to have to hold a like... Avengers-only press conference?" Peter asked, holding Tony's hand on the couch as a poor substitute for his normal level of full-body clinging. Tony laughed-- which didn't make him wince every time now, and that was an improvement-- and he intoned, "Steve Rogers with Star-Spangled News. Mr. Parker, could you tell us what the hell you see in that guy?" "Great question, Mr. Rogers," Peter said, grinning, "and one that I'm happy to answer in detail and at length--" "Okay, wait," Tony said, waving his hands as if whisk Peter's answer away. Peter laughed, and leaned to press a kiss to Tony's smiling lips, careful not to put any weight on his side. "Anyway. Do you want to? I feel like the cat's halfway out of the bag already, but if you want to do an announcement we can," Tony said, shrugging with the shoulder on his undamaged side. "Our four-month anniversary is coming up; we could make it a whole thing. Send out invitations. A dunk tank is off the table until my stab wounds are all healed up, but we could get Nerf guns for everyone to shoot me with. Vent some frustrations." "Tony," Peter scolded, but only because Tony didn't sound like he was actually stressed about it. He shrugged, too, and said, "I'm kinda... over doing the big talk? I feel like Steve's gonna crack and ask one of us about it any day now, and if he does, we'll just…" He shrugged. It would be awkward, but-- whatever. They could survive awkward.

22. do you ever worry about public reaction to what you’re writing? how do you get past that?

Mmm kind of? Not in the sense that I fear hate comments or anything (moderated comments 😎), but there have been scenes that I've worried wouldn't land for readers before! YNYD!Peter making the joke in front of the rest of the team about he and Tony having sex in the birthday chapter because of the foot-in-mouth factor, double-blind!Peter's gambit at the end because I thought people might be turned off by his apparent 180 in motivation, I was a little worried that I hadn't done enough to make my Tokyo Babylon fusion canonblind-friendly…

But they aren't huge worries! In terms of getting past it, in general I just am fairly secure in the fact that fanfic is a hobby for me and my foremost goal is entertaining myself and writing the version of the story that I like best, so if something doesn't land then it's still like… well, I liked it! 🤷

Thank you for playing! 💖💖💖

[solsearchingnights]

5 or 8

-Pyrite

Py, my beloved, have some Scausage from a pirates thing that is permanently growing like mold in my walls!

Rule #27 - Drunk on Pride (Fish in a Birdcage, Philip Bowen)

Number 8

Sausage kissed the skin beneath him reverently, moving down soft curves and whispering praises over old scars. Tension from his lover hummed through taut muscles and forcibly evened breaths. Sausage hummed and traced his tongue over a rough line, a memory of a tiger’s ferocity. “Trust me, cosa preciosa. I have you.”

“I do. I trust you.” The Heron’s voice was even, composed.

Sausage couldn’t have that. “Turn over. Show me your back.” He sat up and offered supporting hands to roll Scott onto his stomach. “There we go.”

Scott shuddered under fingers trailing down his spine.

“Pretty thing, look at those bruises.” Heat built in his core as Sausage danced his touch over black and blue piebald marks. “Been playing around with your food? Letting the monsters get a few hits in before you run them through?” He pressed down, so lightly it was more of a suggestion of pressure. “Or are these just for me?”

The breath pacing from Scott’s lungs was suddenly much less steady. “Fell off a boulder. The gators cushioned the fall.” He hissed as Sausage pressed harder into the tender flesh before pulling away. “But I’m glad you appreciate the toys.”

A rumbling chuckle accompanied Sausage’s jingling buckles and clasps as he undressed. “And to think, I went through all the trouble of bringing my own.” He glanced at the side table, knowing Scott’s eyes would be on the inks as well. “I suppose we don’t need to–”

“Please!” Scott pushed up, turning with wide eyes to beg at Sausage. “You promised.”

“I did.” His pants remained, but otherwise, Sausage towered bare over his lover. “And I always keep my promises, don’t I?” He reached a hand out, gently but firmly gripping red hair and smirking at the small gasp that earned from Scott. “What are your words?”

Slowly, Scott eased himself back down, crossing his arms under his head. “Roses to slow down. Ruby to stop.”

“Good.” He scratched at the Heron’s scalp. “And if you can’t talk?” They’d gone through a lot to get Scott to agree to safewords. Sausage was going to make sure they could be used.

The mattress bounced as Scott kicked his feet; three rapid thumps against the sheets.

“Very good.” He tugged red hair, just enough to draw a groan from Scott and pull his head up for a stolen kiss. “May I begin?” He whispered against soft lips.

“Please.” Scott let his head go heavy, pulling himself free of Sausage’s hand. 

Sausage traced the lines across his Heron’s back, the ones he and Scar had laid down weeks ago. A sketch of grey ink and lines drawn of red and brown. “Our treasure. Everyone will know you’re ours.” He dragged a nail through the image, teasing a bruise with his other hand to begin the process of drowning Scott in sensation.

Scott hummed, eyes fluttering shut.

“Good boy. Let’s begin.”

[skekthesilly]

rant

why is it that when i make a dumbass meme in like 1 minute everyone loves it. they go “ooooh omg omg,,,, look at this this is a work of art this is a masterpiece,,,” but then when i spend like 8 freaking hours on a piece of art im really proud of that same crowd does not give a shit. like wtf

like. i poured my heart and soul into this. 8 hours. i spent so long making this and like hey! 10 notes! that’s really great and im glad that those 10 people really like it and i love you all but also hi hello everyone could you have the same enthusiasm for my art as you do for my shitty ass memes. thanks

im just. yknow. 500 people think bi oj is the silliest thing they have ever seen and notes keep trickling in every so often and. like. that’s great and all but that took me 5 minutes to make. maybe you would like some art instead? humbly requesting? bowing down on my knees and pressing my forehead to the floor?

maybe i just need to wait! maybe i just need to wait and all of a sudden someone will stumble across my art and go “hey! this is pretty ok” and then ill get a steady stream of validation for the effort i put into something i genuinely really care about and love. maybe patience really is a virtue and i just need to wait. maybe. maybe

i just. i need to drop the silly goober act for a bit. im so tired. im so tired. i feel selfish for ranting about the fact that i basically want more notes but it’s not in the attention seeking way! i just want people to appreciate my art. thats all i want. if people like my memes then that’s great! but if people like my art that’s even better. if you like my art i swear i will be your best friend forever. you have given me validation for what i do and why i do it and i will literally unironically cry because you like what i have spent so painstakingly long making

im so tired

anyways for the 11 people who liked my pyrite art i love you so much. i love you all <3 /p /gen

edit: back to your regularily scheduled silly skek. was going thru a pretty bad funk but now im doing okayish

[silveredfeathers]

[Musharna Mail. A dream that isn't yours]

[A fast heartbeat, love struck giggles, warm hands and arms wrapped around 'you' in a hug.

The body is very warm, much warmer than 'you'... in fact, you almost forgot the normal temp that you were before the experiments, this was a more normal temperature...

The warmth behind 'you' feels more like how you feel constantly, 'your' head turns and nuzzles into your neck, chuckling 'yourself'...

... 'you' sound like Pyrite, this must be one of his dreams...

A coolness that you recognize immediately as Lynda presses against your back... you don't hear words exchanged, but you can tell that... dream you and her are talking, Lynda sticks her tongue out playfully and you huff at him with the same energy.

Her head settles on Pyrite's... 'your' head...

'You' hear a purring from both of them...

'You' feel loved.]

[That feeling persists after waking up...]

//@timetravelerpyrite

He feels a bit... Odd? He always feels strange after a dream from someone else wanders into his head through the simple fact that his telepathy is less under control asleep. Most of the time they're just bits and pieces unless they're from Lynda...

Despite the strangeness that is temporarily having been Pyrite, the dream helps calm him after the series of nightmares he just had.

However he may need to bring up something with his boyfriend if he's now picking up pup's dreams better.

[ask-ursa-tonypeter]

Pyrite Tony and Peter: What are your plans if your parents somehow find out about you two? (rip tony)

Peter: Oh, man, I don’t even know. Ummm well I guess I would want them to know that I started it, and it’s not like he’s-- you know-- hurting me or anything; we’re just-- just--

Tony: Fucking?

Peter: Well I wouldn’t say it like that!

Tony: Sure, kid. Anyway, I’m pretty sure Dad wouldn’t let it hit the press, so that part’s not a big deal. He might actually finally disown me and fire me from SI, but that would still generate a lot of buzz, and I don’t think the old man actually wants me as a competitor. I might even get off scot-free other than cutting contact and being dumped from the will, but I wouldn’t exactly see “exiled to California and only speaking to Howard during board meetings” as a tragedy.

Peter: But I wouldn’t get to see you anymore!

Tony: I know, Pete, that’s why we’re not going to get caught. Anyway, sorry if you were expecting “I would spirit him away and we’d make a new life in the European countryside,” but that’s not how that would go.

[photosynthefish-12]

@spirit-pyrite, this was a pretty quick & easy dinner. It reheats well, too.

Recipe if you're interested:

Instant tarts/cup tarts: -1 pack (8 biscuits) premade biscuits -1 can condensed broccoli cheese soup

Flatten biscuits, press into a muffin pan to form a tart-shape. Spoon condensed soup into each muffin cup. Cook as directed (350 F, 10-15 minutes).

These turned out slightly oozy, and a touch too moist at the bottom/middle.

Next time I make these, I'll probably cook them slightly lower temperature & longer - 325, 15-18 minutes. I'll also probably add some sort of thickener to the soup - egg, probably. Possibly also diced zucchini. I might add both and make a larger batch.

Hummus works really well instead of condensed soup. If you add vegetables, I'd mix them into the filling rather than putting them on top - the time I tried this with a red pepper garnish, the pepper skin got kind of sharp!

Charred brussels sprouts: -Brussels sprouts, halved -Cooking oil (I used soy/vegetable) -Salt -Spice mix (optional, I used Peri Peri)

Chop brussels sprouts in half, lightly coat with oil, spice mix, and salt. I didn't measure any of this, but I'd estimate about a tablespoon of oil, a teaspoon of spice, and a quarter-teaspoon of salt. The sprouts were lightly coated with spices, and slightly gritty from the salt.

Arrange cut-side-down on an oiled sheet pan in a single layer. Bake at 425 F ~20 minutes until charred.

These turned out a bit soft, but still delicious. I'd also bake these at a lower temperature (~400 F), for about the same amount of time next time.

[onlineviolence]

Can I haz juicy lore or silly headcanons for your ocs idk what juice would they like or whats their favourite candy?

pyrites a big fan of Defacing things and Vandalism. it helps that she can basically freely draw with her hands (that leave gold dust behind if it presses hard enough)

pyre likes to visit “landmarks” in hell and leave a golden handprint there to mark her place

occasionally as time passes it comes back to restore the mark if its faded

gamaliel Always keeps their wings held really close to them even when the chains are removed its just a force of habit

[whitherwanderer]

9 // lend an ear

// 970 words. Pyrite is going to get her VueTube account suspended. Again.

For all their provisions and comforts, the architects of Everkeep in all their genius didn’t fully account for such a thing as human as a circadian rhythm. Insomnia was a common malady for which any number of supplements and aids were available for down at the Nexus Arcade or, if one needed the stronger stuff, True Vue.

Pyrite preferred a simpler remedy to ill-timed bouts of fatigue: a warm cup of black coffee.

All the more lucky that her organization was staffed by a not-inconsiderable number of self-professed coffee snobs who made sure they kept the very best in stock, and as such, the small kitchenette behind the Backroom was a popular spot to idle away while catching something on the holo. The backroom behind the Backroom, they jokingly called it.

She dragged herself out of her bunk, shaking off the fog of a nap that wouldn’t stick and shuffled into the kitchenette where a pair of off-duty operatives, a young hyune lad and a shetona woman, sat on a sofa against the wall, chattering away about something she didn’t quite catch.

She gave them a lazy waggle of her fingers as she dove into the cabinets for a cup she could take with her—

“How old do you think he is, then?” “I don’t know, he can’t be older than forty.” “You’re assuming he’s hyune.” “Well, he doesn’t have a Xak Turali accent, so he’s not shetona or tonawawtan. Certainly not a milala. What do you figure he is?” “Eldite.” “Eldite? Rusty Reforger is not eldite.”

Pyrite’s cup clattered onto the counter and the two paused to glance at her. She made a show of sighing to herself and chuckling as she retrieved the cup and walked it over to the dispenser, muttering to them. “Long night on recon.”

She paused. Her head tilted and her brows furrowed at the two of them, but at least her conspicuous smile seemed genuine. “...What’re you two on about, now? New Arcadion fighter?”

The hyune lad immediately brightened. “No, no! He’s a reforger. Records himself climbing, finding things out in the old kingdom, and then he posts all of it to his feed. Fascinating stuff.” “And he’s anonymous. No one knows a thing about him save for his voice,” the shetona woman adds with a shrug of one arm. “Has considerable knowledge of antiquated electrope tech that I find interesting.”

Pyrite filled her cup while she kept head turned to follow their description of this reforger, and when she had her fix, she walked over to lean against the sofa to look at a small display the hyune carried. He held it up for her to take and tapped it to start the replay of one of this Rusty Reforger’s climbs into a crumbling facility somewhere out in the ruins of Archaeo Alexandria.

“Alright. Got pointed here by a friend of a friend, said they’d been scroungin’ in here for scrap when the floor started givin’ up under ‘em. Somethin’ about how that’s right up my alley, seein’ as nobody was gonna dispatch a hovercraft out here…”

Pyrite watched from the reforger’s perspective as an electrope tether was swung in a quick circle with a flick of his wrist, and she huffed a singular laugh.

“Huh. Ain’t that somethin’,” she remarked, handing the display back. The hyune nodded in enthusiastic agreement as he leaned back to enjoy the rest of the video.

“You heading out, Pyre? New op?” he asked her. Pyrite shook her head. “Not ‘til intelligence comes back with security bypasses. I got errands to run, anyway.” “Ahh, shame.” “Get some sleep while you can, too,” the shetona called after her, and she gave an appreciative wave as she made for the door to the Backroom proper with her coffee in hand.

—

Perched high up above the promenades of True Vue, Pyrite sat with her back to a wall and clutched her own small display, coffee still steaming in her opposite hand. She pressed the cup to her lips and tilted it back, her eyes glued to the POV of the Rusty Reforger repelling down an exterior wall with finesse that made it look as easy as walking.

Today’s upload. She almost missed it. Insomnia was good for something, at least.

“I think that does it for this one, folks,” he sighed, satisfaction evident in his tone as he tugged on the electrope tether and let it retract off-screen.

She set down her coffee to flick through the replies from his watchers as he ran through his usual sign-off; mostly effusive praise and questions about unaddressed curiosities in the ruins featured, but one particular reply gave her pause.

this is so stupid he just walks into old buildings and describes what he sees? why do people watch this??

Pyrite sucked her teeth, then drew the display in to furiously tap at it for a few moments.

there’s always some envious little shite who’s upset they don’t have half the skill RRF does.

She tapped the reply button and slid the display away in her coat before she could spend another thought on crafting the most potent vitriol to unleash on this faceless commenter. She could get her blood boiling for hours if she let herself get caught arguing back and forth with some of the Rusty Reforger’s less courteous viewers. Not that the man himself ever seemed bothered by it.

At least, Galena never brought it up to her. She wasn’t about to ask him directly either. Like him, she also enjoyed a certain degree of anonymity when it came to his adventures behind the mask. Although he knew she watched his feed, she wasn’t sure he knew that, in the nights they spent apart, his voice was a salve to sleeplessness better than any other the keep could offer.

[askthehiddencaste]

==> Wake Up

A soft heartbeat.

The heaviness of liquid pressing in on a soft body.

Everything suddenly felt too cramped in this place.... it's time.

Little legs began to move, scrambling and pressing against the hard walls of the thing that held it.

After a few minutes of struggle, a crack could be heard and the cool feeling of the outside began seeping in.

"Mom....MOM! The eggs's hatching!" Cerium cried, scrambling to her feet and abandoning her handheld game. Bare feet beating against the hard wood as she rushed out into the main hall of the library. "Mom! Where are you?!" she called out, Shuska suddenly seeming to appear from nowhere as she came to Cerium with a worried expression.

"Cerium! Nibbles honey, what's wrong dear? I'm right here" she cooed softly, reaching her hand out to cup Ceriums cheek with a soft smile. "Mom! Mom the egg's hatching!"" she retorted excitedly, Shuska lighting up and hurrying to their apartments. "Watch the library!" she called over her shoulder, getting a soft 'right' from Tannos as she passed by.

Shuska smiled and knelt down to carefully remove the egg from its heated nest, sitting it down on on a soft towel. "Come on little one, mama's here" she whispered, watching the little egg start to shift and crack further.

Cerium would poke her head in and watch as Shuska cooed and urged the grub to break free, to escape and come out for its first true breath. She glanced to the hallway, Dancer's thin form seen peering out as well in curiosity to see what had cause the others to shout. ==>Push

Shuska could see the grub doing its best to break the shell.

"Come on...you've got this little one" she encouraged softly.

==>Recognize the voice

the grub squeaked from inside the shell, butting its head against its cage as hard as its little body could at the sound of Shuska's voice, its mama's voice. It didn't take much more before a piece of the shell broke out completely.

==>Breathe

One deep breath later and the grub inside squealed its little heart out, struggling and pushing more and more of the shell apart until Shuska gave in and reached out to finally help.

"There there, mama's gotcha" she cooed, pulling the shell away and releasing a small pyrite colored grub."Well hello there~" she cooed, those bright eyes blinking up to her without much movement.

Shuska reached over to pull another piece of egg from the grubs hair. The little thing squeaked and attempted to follow the hand, the entire egg shifting and tipping him out with a frightened little squeak.

Shuska couldn't help but chuckle as she took the shell from the freed grub. It was only after she had turned to put the pieces in the trash that she noticed Dancer and Cerium both watching from just behind her.

"You don't have to be all the way back there you know" she cooed softly, the grub yawning and laying its head down as Dancer stepped closer. "I-it's so small" came his soft voice, Shuska gently picking her newest child up to cradle him to her chest. "Yes, he is.... but so were we when we first hatched "

"Can...c-can I come see him closer?" Dancer asked again softly, Shuska smiling sweetly with a nod. "Of course, come meet your little brother. "She hummed, turning enough for Dancer and Cerium to both get a good look at the grub and his dual set of nubby horns, still small to fit inside his egg.

"Welcome home, Sallom" She cooed softly, finger curling under the grubs chin as he curled up properly to rest.

Sallom ==> Feel Loved

[amostfoolishgold]

So uhh @pacificwaternymph I may have gotten a little carried away thinking about our witches and I wrote about their meeting. I simply think it's very funny if w!Pyrite is usually all calm and collected and maybe slightly sinister but absolutely ruined that impression in her first interaction with Delilah lmao

(under a readmore bc it's a bit of a Long Boi)

There's not much about her relationship with Delilah that Pyrite would change but, if pressed, she would probably choose the circumstance of their meeting. Pyrite, like so many witches, had been following the competition to become supreme witch. Of course she had, witches tend to be a scattered bunch and celestial witches like herself can be scattered a good deal further than most, but the supreme witch would always be a big deal. The competition was even being broadcast this time around! The remaining handful of the previous supreme witch's staff who were running the thing all had little sprites following each of the contestants fairly constantly and displaying what they saw onto screens across half the country. That did still mean that in order to be watching a screen you had to either hijack the broadcast or be in that half of the country. So Pyrite was among the many witches who had flooded into the cities and towns and villages that surrounded the competition venue. She'd even gotten there early enough to snag a decent room in probably the closest village. Prophetic powers do pay off sometimes and practically every celestial witch who lucked into prophecy had gotten the one about the supreme witch's death. It was really just a matter of tugging on the strings of fate herself to get her nicely situated to watch the competition play out. Admittedly when she'd prophesized she'd "see the competition up close and personal" she was kind of hoping fate would come down on the nice side of that wiggle room and she'd get an invite, and she's still holding out hope that she'll run into one of the contestants during one of the rounds, but she's pretty sure she met a potion witch the other day paying a ridiculous rate to stay in someone's broom closet for the duration of the competition, so she can't complain too much about the room in the Harepelt inn.

It was, in fact, in said inn that she met Delilah. Pyrite had her head face down on one of the smaller tables in the main room, trying to convince herself that having a meal would help with the headache she currently had. It wouldn't, but she also hadn't eaten in a while so she should anyway. She's a fan of Cleo, she really is, the time witch seems the most…competent of the contestants and seems like she'd make a good supreme witch. Plus Pyrite's a massive lesbian so. However, watching her live inevitably gives Pyrite a massive headache and she never fucking learns. Thus, head on table.

And then she feels the frustration and misery fade into a dull echo of themselves, replaced with a subtle tranquillity that she maybe wouldn't notice if she hadn't been sat here wallowing in it for the past hour or so. She jolts upright which, ow, is a mistake, the headache is very much still present and with the sudden movement it all comes back full force. She squints at the handful of people arrayed around the room until she spots a witch at the bar staring intently at her plate of food.

"You!"

Ok yeah she really shouldn't have shouted, there's quite a few people starting at her. The witch at the bar is pointedly not. Pyrite's chair makes a truly awful scraping noise as she stands up and her boots click against the stone floor which isn't helping with the headache even slightly.

"What was that?"

The witch turns to face her with a wince. Under other circumstances, Pyrite might note her fluffy blonde ponytails or her tan skin with a pretty smattering of freckles or her kind eyes or maybe even the way her off-the-shoulder blouse exposes even more freckles dusted across her shoulders. However, in the here and now, all Pyrite can think about is maybe not feeling quite so shit in the next five minutes.

"Honestly? I thought you were having a nightmare. Thought I could help without…well without you knowing."

"Excellent, please do it again."

The witch visibly startles.

"What?"

"I have a very terrible headache from receiving far too many conflicting prophecies because I'm an idiot who keeps watching Cleo's broadcasts. If you have the power to make that suck less please use it."

The witch makes a face that Pyrite cannot even begin to parse, but given the sense of peace returns Pyrite assumes she's working her magic. It takes everything in her not to slump against the bar in relief, instead she opts for a sigh.

"That's so much better." She freezes. "Oh fuck that was just. Incredibly rude of me. I'm Pyrite, celestial witch by trade, and incredibly grateful for the…whatever magic you're doing."

She extends a hand and, after a moment's hesitation, the other witch takes it.

"Delilah, empathetic witch. It's…not a problem."