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neferaskingdom · 27 days ago

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♡ Where's The Trophy? He Just Comes Running Over To Me | MV1

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: She ended it — he said she was too much. But now every time he wins, he looks for her.

A/N: Here's a little drabble for you guys. Inspiration is still on the down low but MAX WON IN SUZUKA GUYS and this lil idea struck.

MAX VERSTAPPEN MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

It was all over the internet. The photos of him standing on the second step of the podium in Melbourne, jaw tight, eyes scanning the crowd with this distant, searching look. He should've been proud—second place with a car that was fighting him every step of the way—but it was like he was waiting for something. Or someone.

People on Twitter noticed. Reddit too. The way he didn’t smile properly, the way he glanced toward the sidelines right before the champagne came out. There were theories. Some people even guessed right. He was looking for her.

Max hadn’t been himself for a while. And maybe that wasn’t fair to say, because he was still fast. Still pushing the Red Bull harder than anyone else could’ve. But the car was holding him back this season. Everyone knew it. It wasn’t just bad luck or a weird setup. It was an actual issue. Aero, balance, whatever the hell the engineers were arguing about behind closed doors. Max could drive like hell, but if the car wasn’t ready, it just wasn’t.

Still, it didn’t stop people from whispering about him. And it didn’t stop her from wondering, in quiet moments, if he was okay.

It had been almost six months since they broke up.

Not that the anniversary needed marking.

It happened just before his fourth championship.

The fight had been coming for weeks—tension simmering beneath every conversation, every missed call, every cancelled dinner. She gave him space, tried not to take it personally when he snapped or forgot her birthday or ghosted her texts for two straight days because he was in sim sessions and meetings.

She really tried.

But he pushed. And pushed. And then, one night, he said something he couldn't take back.

It was late. Past midnight. The apartment in Monaco was dead silent except for the sound of Max’s voice echoing from the kitchen, clipped and sharp.

"You don't get it. You never have."

She was standing by the window, arms crossed, the city lights painting her face in cool blue. "Don’t turn this into that. I’ve done nothing but try to understand."

He walked past her, tossing his phone onto the counter with a thud. “You think trying means texting me after every quali like that’s supposed to fix it? I don’t need a cheerleader. I need someone who doesn’t make everything harder by hovering all the time. You're just too much!”

The words came out fast, angry. He froze as soon as he said them.

“I didn’t mean—”

She blinked at him. Just once. Then picked up her bag from the back of the chair. “Yeah. You did.”

Max moved toward her quickly, regret all over his face. “No, I didn’t. I swear. I’m—fuck, I’m tired, I’m under so much pressure, I—”

“I gave you space,” she said, voice quiet but shaking. “I let you push me away. I made excuses for you. I convinced myself this was just temporary. But this?”

He reached out, catching her wrist. “Please don’t go. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. I’m just tired. I love you.”

She looked at him, heart breaking and already halfway out the door. “I love you too. But I can’t do this anymore. I need space to think.”

She left. No big scene. Just keys on the counter and a cab at the curb.

The last time they spoke was the night of his fourth championship. She watched the race from her couch, pride and heartbreak mixing in her chest like poison. When he crossed the line, the tears came fast. It was supposed to be a moment they shared.

She sent him a message. Just one.

Her: congrats on the title. you deserved it.

He replied five minutes later.

Max: Please call me. I need to talk to you.

Max: I’m so sorry. I think about you every day.

Max: I fucked up. Please don’t shut me out forever.

Max: I know I don’t deserve it, but if there’s any chance at all… please.

She didn’t answer right away. It took her hours to even look at her phone again. And when she finally did, she typed out something simple.

Her: I’m proud of you. I really am. I know it was a stressful time. But what you said… it stuck. I just need some space. I hope you understand.

She didn’t text back after that. Not for months.

Then came the 2025 season.

It started off okay. Not great. Not Max levels of dominance. The car was twitchy, unstable in corners, and the engineers were playing catch-up from day one.

He still dragged it to second place in Australia. It was a miracle drive. But when he stood on the podium, he wasn’t smiling the way he used to.

Then China happened. P4. Not a disaster, but it hurt. Everyone could see he was wringing every last drop out of that machine and it still wasn’t enough. But he wasn’t throwing tantrums or being cold with the press. He just looked… tired.

That was when Lando started texting her.

Lando: okay hear me out

Lando: come to japan

Her: lol what?

Lando: serious. Quadrant’s first launch post-rebrand is in Suzuka and it’s a big deal and I want you there. you always said you’d come if we did something huge. You promised

Lando: don’t be mean i’m sensitive

Her: I don’t think that counts as a promise lol

Her: lando.

Lando: Please. I’ll keep you away from him. swear on my life. you won’t even smell a red bull. max won’t know. just come support your favourite british gamer boy.

Her: I’m not sure it’s a good idea.

Lando: It’s for me not for him. come on. just this one time.

Lando: I’ll buy you japanese snacks and let you win mario kart. i’m begging.

Her: you never let anyone win mario kart.

Lando: but for you. I’ll throw the race.

Her: …

Her: fine. one weekend.

Lando: YES. you’re the best. he won’t even know. it’s gonna be chill. just quadrant stuff. you’ll have fun.

Suzuka was buzzing. She had an amazing time with the Quadrant crew, watching all the behind-the-scenes of photoshoots and going out for ramen with Lando. But she couldn’t avoid the paddock. Not when Saturday’s quali brought a surprise. Max was on pole.

She watched it all from the shadows, tucked behind a wall of McLaren gear and camera rigs, staying low-key like she promised. But when he stepped out of the car, helmet tucked under his arm, grinning wide like it was 2023 again, her heart did this dumb little flip.

God, she missed him.

Race day came. And Max? He dominated.

He drove like a man possessed. Fast. Precise. Every lap smoother than the last. The Red Bull finally looked decent again—maybe not perfect, but close enough in his hands.

And when he crossed the finish line, hands raised, engine screaming, she didn’t mean to move. But her feet took her to the barricades at parc fermé before her brain caught up.

She stayed hidden, sandwiched between McLaren crew and camera guys.

Max was all celebration—yelling over the radio, hugging his engineers, trading high fives and slaps on the back. The joy on his face was infectious, the kind of smile she hadn’t seen in ages. He placed his helmet gently on the stand, grabbed a water bottle from the pit wall, and turned slightly—ready to take a sip—when he spotted her.

He froze.

The bottle slipped right out of his hand, hitting the concrete with a loud thud as he stared.

Then he ran.

No hesitation, no second-guessing. Just sprinted straight toward her and pulled her into a hug so tight it knocked the breath from her lungs.

She was too stunned to speak, too overwhelmed to do anything but hug him back. Her fingers curled into the back of his suit, and she held on as the flashes of cameras popped around them like fireworks.

She glanced up, catching Lando a few steps away trying to subtly signal if she needed help—if he should pull Max off her. But she shook her head, just barely.

Max wasn’t letting go.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured into her hair, over and over again, voice hoarse with emotion. “I’m sorry. I missed you. I’m so sorry.”

She leaned back just enough to cradle his face in her hands, thumbs brushing his cheeks as she looked at him—really looked at him—for the first time in months.

“Congratulations Max” She whispered, watching him calm down a little.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at her like he was afraid she'd disappear.

"I didn’t know you were here," he said finally, voice rough.

She nodded. "Wasn’t planned. Lando guilt-tripped me."

He gave a breathy laugh. Then his face sobered. "You saw the whole thing?"

She nodded again.

Max stepped closer. "I meant what I said. About being sorry. I think about it every day."

"Max—"

"Just let me say this," he interrupted, voice low. "I was angry. At the team. At the car. At myself. And I used you like a punching bag and took you for granted. That was on me."

She looked at him for a long second before smiling widely.

"Go celebrate," she whispered against his shoulder. "You earned it. I’ll meet you in your driver’s room later ok?."

He pulled back just enough to look at her. Hope flickered in his eyes. "Yeah?"

You nodded. "We’ll talk. After."

He didn’t push for more. Just touched their foreheads briefly before turning back towards the staff ushering him to the cooldown room.

And this time, as Max stepped onto the podium, standing tall as the Dutch Anthem played in the background, as he sprayed Champagne on Lando and Oscar, he didn’t need to search the crowd.

He already knew she was there.

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wonderjanga · 3 months ago

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Hiiii, how are you?

I'm nervous here, it's the first time I've made an Ask here on Tumblr-

Aaaanyway, I wanted to give you an idea, I couldn't find it, but I've seen a post where Billy goes deaf after being struck by lightning

The post doesn't show it, and I can't think and come up with ideas to write it myself, but I would love to see what his interactions and relationships with the civilians and heroes would be like as a deaf person.

So, if you see this and want to write a post based on it, please tag me chum, xoxo.

— justv0id, at your pleasure :D

I’m good! I haven’t been posting as much recently because I’ve suddenly grown a little busy but other than that, I’m a-okay! I just need to work out a few kinks in my personal life and I should be back to the two posts a day schedule. ALSO, anyone is free to ask questions there’s no need to be nervous!

Anyways…

Marvel: *minding his business*

Tourist: “Captain Marvel? Could you take a photo with me?”

Marvel: *obviously doesn’t hear him because he’s deaf*

Tourist: “Captain?”

Marvel: *still doesn’t hear him*

Tourist: “If you don’t want to take a photo with me, you can just say so.” *starting to sound a little mad*

Marvel: *again, doesn’t hear him*

Tourist: “Dude, stop ignoring me-”

Random Fawcitizen: *runs up and socks the stuffing out of them*

All Fawcitizens are a little a lot protective of Cap. Some people unfortunately have to experience this first have.

Martian Manhunter(MM), Miss Martian, and Marvel: *all standing in the circle, staring at each other intensely*

Random Civilian: What are they doing…?

Meanwhile… In the Telepathy Link…

Marvel: “That’s what I was saying! That show is garbage!”

Miss Martian: “It is not! It’s literally amazing!”

MM: “M’gann… Please do not lie. At least not to the both of our faces.”

Reporters: *hounding him and asking a bunch of questions*

Marvel: *just smiles, gives a little head nod before flying off*

Ladies: “He’s so dreamy and mysterious!”

Marvel: *actually left because he knew that if he were to say a single word to answer any of their questions, he’d probably shatter all their eardrums because he has little to no volume control*

Batman: *signing to him*

Marvel: *nodding along*

Batman: *pleased that he found a way to communicate with Marvel*

Marvel: *has no idea what he’s saying and just think he’s throwing up gang signs* (“You know what? You go, man.” Billy thinks to himself for the 50 millionth time)

I’d also like to think this vid would perfectly encapsulate a not deaf Junior and a deaf Marvel.

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics

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aspenmissing · 2 months ago

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Heey! Just wanted you to know I love your one shots and the way you write for all characters. I myself am a Viktor enthusiast may you acknowledge how your writings have been feeding me for the last few weeks

In any case, I have an angsty request for you, preferably for Viktor and Silco (since I love that old man too)

What if reader was caught in a accident (or incident, messed with the wrong person, anything) and got severely injured in their arm, but the damage was so bad they had to amputate it. Eventually reader would have the phantom limb syndrome and deal with it

I know that in Arcane universe they have all those cool prothesis and mechanical gears to aid people, maybe the idea of having a cool mechanic arm could help the reader deal with the aftermath

ᴘʜᴀɴᴛᴏᴍ ᴘᴀɪɴ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ || 5296 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴍɪꜱꜱɪɴɢ/ᴀᴍᴘᴜᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴀʀᴍ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴇxᴘʟᴏꜱɪᴏɴꜱ, ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ/ᴇɴꜰᴏʀᴄᴇʀ ʙʀᴜᴛᴀʟɪᴛʏ(ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ). ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴠᴇ ꜱᴍᴇʟʟ ᴏꜰ ʙᴜʀɴᴛ ꜱᴋɪɴ/ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ/ʙᴜʀɴɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ᴀʀᴍ(ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ), ᴘʜᴀɴᴛᴏᴍ ᴘᴀɪɴ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʏ ʜᴇʏ!! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɪɴᴅʟʏ ᴍʏ ꜰᴇʟʟᴏᴡ ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛʜᴜꜱɪᴀꜱᴛ! ɪ ᴀᴍ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴛᴏ ꜰᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴀꜱ ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴀꜱ ᴀʟʟ ᴍʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ. ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴏᴏᴅ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛʏ ᴏɴᴇ, ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴜʀꜱᴇ. ꜱᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ꜰᴜʀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴀᴅᴏ, ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!! <3 <3

JAYCE

The world around you was a haze of muffled voices and blinding lights. Pain surged through your body like an unbearable tide, dragging you in and out of consciousness. The last thing you could remember was the explosion—deafening, shattering, ripping through metal and stone like paper. The force had thrown you backward, the pressure in your chest knocking the air from your lungs as everything went black.

And then Jayce screaming your name.

When you woke, the air was sterile, heavy with the scent of antiseptic. The soft hum of machinery filled the room, the gentle beeping of monitors blending with the muffled voices of medical staff outside the door. The glow of Piltover's advanced medical center flickered in your peripheral vision, its pristine walls unfamiliar yet oddly comforting.

Your mind was sluggish, caught in a haze between sleep and waking, but a weight settled over your chest—a foreboding sense of loss.

Then, you felt it.

Or rather, you didn’t.

Your right arm, gone.

Panic shot through you like lightning, your breath hitching in short gasps as your remaining hand grasped at the empty space where your limb should have been. It wasn’t there. It wasn’t—

A sob tore from your throat as the weight of reality crashed over you. The sharp, searing loss of something so integral, the feeling of incompleteness, a hollowness that words could never truly capture.

Then, warm hands cupped your face, steady yet trembling.

“Y/N,” Jayce's voice was hoarse, as if he hadn’t stopped speaking your name since the accident. His face was inches from yours, exhausted, his golden eyes rimmed with red. “You’re awake. Thank the gods.”

Your lip trembled. “My arm... Jayce, I—”

“I know,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. His breath was uneven, his fingers tracing softly along your jawline. “I’m so sorry.”

You had never seen him like this—so broken, so helpless. Jayce was always the one who had answers, who could fix things with his inventions, with his unyielding determination. But here, now, he couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t bring back what had been lost.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until he wiped away your tears with his thumb, his touch lingering, grounding you when you felt like you were about to fall apart.

Days passed. Then weeks.

The pain of the wound itself lessened, but something more insidious remained. A ghost of what once was. The fingers you no longer had curled into a fist you couldn’t see, the itch of an arm you couldn't scratch burned your nerves raw. The phantom pain struck when you least expected it—sudden, brutal, a cruel reminder of what you had lost.

Some nights, you jolted awake, feeling the unbearable ache of a hand that no longer existed. You gasped, clenching your jaw to keep from crying out, but Jayce always noticed. He was always there. Holding you. Rubbing slow circles on your back until your ragged breaths evened out. Whispering reassurances against your temple, telling you he was there, that you weren’t alone.

He never let you be alone.

But the world kept moving, even if you felt frozen in time. Piltover’s shining towers still gleamed under the golden sunlight, its streets still bustled with people chasing innovation and progress. You watched from the balcony of Jayce’s workshop, the city stretching out before you like a reminder of everything you had once loved, everything that now felt so distant.

One evening, as the city lights shimmered outside the window, Jayce placed something on the table beside you.

A blueprint.

“I’ve been working on something,” he murmured, watching your reaction carefully.

It was an arm—sleek, refined, built with Hextech precision. Unlike the bulky prosthetics you had seen before, this was elegant, almost delicate in its craftsmanship. A perfect blend of form and function.

Your breath caught in your throat.

“You don’t have to wear it,” he rushed to say. “I just... I wanted to try. I wanted to give you the choice.”

For the first time in weeks, a flicker of something unfamiliar swelled in your chest. Hope.

You reached out, your fingers ghosting over the design, tracing the careful lines, the care he had put into every intricate piece. You could see it—the sleepless nights spent in his lab, the endless trial and error, the way he had thrown himself into this project because he refused to let you suffer alone.

Your heart clenched as you looked up at him, his expression raw, waiting, hoping. Tears welled in your eyes, but this time, they weren’t only from grief.

“You did this for me?”

Jayce exhaled, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Of course, I did.” He cupped your face once more, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I love you, Y/N. And no matter what, I will always stand by you.”

A sob caught in your throat, but this time, it was accompanied by a small, trembling smile.

Even in your darkest moments, Jayce had never given up on you. And maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t give up on yourself either.

VIKTOR

The pain was unbearable.

It was like fire licking at your skin, searing deep into your bones, yet when you opened your eyes, there was nothing there. Just emptiness where your arm should have been.

You barely registered Viktor’s voice at first. It was distant, muffled, like he was calling you from across an ocean. The sound wavered, distorted, as if you were underwater, struggling to break the surface. But the moment your gaze met his, everything else faded into insignificance.

“Y/N,” he whispered, kneeling beside your bed. His golden eyes were glassy, his jaw clenched so tightly it trembled. His hand hovered above yours—above where yours used to be—before curling into a fist and retreating. The hesitation in his touch was more painful than the searing emptiness that spread through you. “I… I should have been there.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You swallowed the lump in your throat and shook your head weakly. “You couldn’t have known,” you murmured, your voice hoarse from disuse. Even speaking felt foreign, as if your body no longer belonged to you, as if something vital had been stolen away along with your arm.

He exhaled sharply, standing to pace the length of the dimly lit room, the familiar sound of his cane tapping against the floor punctuating the silence. His limp was more pronounced in his agitation, each step uneven, every movement wrought with frustration. You recognized the room instantly—the lab, your home away from home. The smell of metal and oil lingered in the air, a reminder of the work you used to do alongside him. Work that had cost you your arm.

You still remembered the explosion. The blinding light. The deafening boom. The way the force had thrown you like a ragdoll, the way your body had slammed against the cold, unforgiving ground. The sickening crack of bone. The agonizing, splitting pain that had torn through you like jagged glass. And then the darkness…

You didn’t want to think about it.

Instead, you flexed your fingers—at least, you thought you did. The sensation was there, the phantom feeling of movement, but when you looked down, there was nothing. Just empty space where your arm had been. Your breath hitched, and panic clawed at your throat.

“Viktor,” you gasped, reaching out with your remaining hand as if to grasp onto reality itself. “It’s still there—I can feel it, but it’s not, and—I can’t—”

In an instant, he was at your side, his hands gently cupping your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. His touch was warm, grounding, an anchor in the chaos threatening to consume you. “Breathe,” he soothed, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with something fragile and desperate. “You are not alone in this.”

Your body shook, your fingers digging into his sleeves. The fabric bunched beneath your grip, your nails pressing against his skin through the thin material. “I don’t know how to live like this.” The words barely made it past your lips, barely existed in the space between you, but he heard them. He always heard you.

The following days were unbearable. The ghostly sensation of your missing limb tormented you at all hours. It ached in ways you couldn’t explain, burning, throbbing, twitching even though it wasn’t there. Sleep became impossible. You’d wake up reaching for something that no longer existed. Viktor was there for each of those moments, rubbing soothing circles into your back, whispering quiet reassurances even when you could see the exhaustion written in his posture.

But the worst part wasn’t the pain. It was the helplessness.

Tasks that once came naturally—tying your hair, adjusting your coat, working on the delicate intricacies of your shared research—had become an impossible challenge. Frustration curled in your gut like a bitter poison, your own body betraying you. You lashed out once, slamming the remains of your desk in anger, sending tools clattering to the ground. Viktor had simply watched you, understanding in his eyes, before silently bending down to help you clean up.

It was after that moment that he finally spoke of his idea.

He pulled back, his gaze flickering toward his workbench, where blueprints and scattered notes lay in disarray. The sight was familiar, comforting in its own way. But this time, the sketches weren’t just formulas and equations. They were something more. Something intricate. Something built for you.

“There are… possibilities,” he said hesitantly, as if he feared giving you false hope. “I have ideas—prototypes that may help with the phantom pain. And… perhaps, in time, I can create something for you.”

Your breath hitched at the implication, at the sheer devotion in his words. You had known Viktor was relentless, brilliant beyond comprehension, but this… this was different. This was personal.

“You mean…?”

He nodded, his eyes searching yours, filled with the intensity that always came when he had set his mind on something. “If you would allow it… I wish to build something for you. Not to replace what you have lost, but to help you move forward.”

A fresh wave of emotion crashed over you, but this time, it wasn’t despair. It was hope. Hope that, despite everything, despite the agony, despite the loss—you could still be whole in a new way.

With a trembling breath, you nodded. “Okay.”

Viktor’s lips curled into the faintest of smiles, his hand squeezing yours gently. His grip was firm, unwavering, like a silent vow. A promise that he would not let you face this alone.

He tapped his cane lightly against the ground, as if grounding himself as well. “I will make sure of it.” A soft kiss was pressed to your forehead. “You are not alone.”

JAYVIK

The explosion came without warning, a burst of fire and shrapnel that tore through the lab. Smoke curled in the air, acrid and suffocating, as the walls trembled under the force of the blast. You barely had time to react before a searing pain shot through your arm, white-hot and all-consuming. Then—nothing.

When you woke, the world felt wrong. The light was too bright, the sterile scent of the infirmary too sharp, and the weight of your body—uneven. It wasn’t until you tried to move that the realization struck you like a hammer blow to the chest.

Your arm was gone.

A sob wrenched free before you could stop it, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. You clutched at the empty space where your limb should have been, fingers grasping at air, at nothing, at loss.

And then—warmth. Hands, familiar and steady, grounding you in the storm of your grief.

Viktor sat beside you, his golden eyes brimming with sorrow, fingers trembling as they brushed against your uninjured hand. “You’re awake,” he murmured, his voice a rasp of emotion.

Jayce stood behind him, his broad shoulders tense, his jaw set tight with barely restrained anguish. He looked at you like he wanted to fix this, like he wanted to tear time apart with his bare hands and put you back together again.

You swallowed, your throat dry. “My arm…”

“It was too damaged,” Viktor said softly, his fingers curling slightly over your hand. “The only way to save you was to remove it.”

Jayce made a choked noise and turned away, running a hand down his face. “I should have—damn it, I should have protected you. I should have been faster.”

Tears blurred your vision. “I can still feel it.” You gasped, voice cracking as you clutched at your shoulder. “I-It’s not there, but I feel it.”

Viktor squeezed your hand, his grip firm despite the tremble in his fingers. “Phantom limb syndrome,” he explained gently. “It’s… common. Your mind still believes it’s there.”

Jayce dropped to his knees beside the bed, reaching out hesitantly before finally wrapping his arms around you. “We’re here,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “You’re not going through this alone.”

The days blurred together after that. You woke screaming some nights, feeling the phantom pain as though your missing arm was still burning, still trapped in that explosion. Viktor was always there, his voice a soft balm, whispering reassurances, pressing cool cloths to your forehead when you shivered from the pain. Jayce held you through the worst of it, his arms strong and unyielding, promising you through every broken sob that he would never leave your side.

They worked tirelessly in the lab, pouring over schematics, experimenting with Hextech. “We’ll make you a new arm,” Jayce vowed, his determination almost feverish.

Viktor was quieter about it, but his eyes held the same fierce devotion. “You will not have to suffer like this forever,” he promised one night, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “We will help you. We will fix this together.”

Some days were harder than others. There were moments when you couldn’t bear to look at your reflection, when the loss felt too great, when frustration overwhelmed you. You felt broken, incomplete.

But they never let you fall too far.

Jayce kissed you with reverence, like you were still whole, still the love of his life. Viktor held you as though he could absorb your pain, his touch delicate and sure. Between them, you found strength. Between them, you found the will to keep going.

And one day, when the Hextech prototype was finally ready, they stood beside you, hands clasped with yours, and whispered three simple words that reminded you that no matter what had changed, one thing never would.

“We love you.”

VANDER

The streets of Zaun were never kind, but you knew that well enough.

You had grown up in the undercity, breathing in its smog-filled air, learning how to navigate its dangerous alleys, and carving out a life beside Vander—the man who had become the heart of this place and, more importantly, your heart. You had found warmth in his arms, safety in his presence, and the promise of a future in his eyes.

But safety was always a fleeting thing in a place like this.

It had started as a simple errand. You had gone out to retrieve some supplies from a vendor near the border of the Lanes, a route you had taken plenty of times before. But today, you ran into the wrong people.

A group of enforcers—ones who weren’t just looking for trouble, but were ready to make an example out of anyone from Zaun. And you? You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You didn’t even get the chance to draw your blade before one of them struck. The sharp burn of steel cut through the thick leather of your sleeve, slicing deep into your flesh. You fought, struggled, but you were outnumbered, and the pain only worsened as they pinned you down and made sure you wouldn’t forget their lesson.

By the time they left, you were barely holding on. Blood soaked your clothes, your vision blurred, and the last thing you remembered was someone shouting your name before darkness swallowed you whole.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up wasn’t the dull ache in your body—it was the absence.

Your arm. Your left arm. Gone.

Panic set in, a sharp and suffocating thing, as you tried to move it and felt… nothing. But your mind didn’t seem to understand. You could still feel it—an itching, aching sensation where your limb should have been. Your fingers curled, or at least, you thought they did, but when you looked down, there was nothing there.

Just a bandaged stump.

And then there was Vander.

He was at your side, hand gripping yours so tightly that his knuckles were white. His face was drawn, eyes filled with the kind of anguish you had never seen before.

“Y/N…” His voice was hoarse, thick with emotion. “I—”

You didn’t know what to say. Didn’t even know how to breathe properly. You had always been strong, capable, independent. But now… now you felt broken.

Vander’s hand cradled your face, thumb brushing away the tears you hadn’t realized were falling. “I should’ve been there,” he whispered, guilt lacing every word. “I should’ve—”

You shook your head. “It wasn’t your fault.”

But it didn’t matter. The pain was still there, twisting and turning, and not just in your missing limb. Phantom pain, they called it. A cruel trick of the nerves, making you feel what was no longer there. Some nights, it felt like your fingers were curling into a fist so tight it would break bones. Other nights, you swore you could feel your arm reaching for Vander, aching for his touch, only to wake up and remember it was gone.

And Vander—he never left your side.

He was there when you woke up screaming, pressing a warm cloth to your forehead and whispering words of comfort. He was there when you flinched at the sight of your reflection, his arms wrapping around you like an anchor. He was there when you broke down, shaking and furious at the unfairness of it all, holding you through the storm until your sobs quieted against his chest.

“You’re still you,” he murmured one night, his lips against your temple, his hand tracing gentle circles over your back. “Nothing’s changed that.”

You wanted to believe him.

It took time. It took pain, anger, and nights spent gripping sheets so tightly your nails nearly tore them. It took Vander kissing away your doubts, reminding you in every touch, every look, that you were still whole in his eyes.

But you weren’t the only one suffering.

The kids—Vi, Mylo, Claggor, and Powder—had been shaken. The moment you had woken up, they had been lingering at the doorway, hesitant, as if afraid that you wouldn’t be the same. Vi was the first to step forward, her usual confidence tempered with something softer as she stared at your missing limb. “You scared the hell out of us,” she muttered, crossing her arms to hide the worry in her eyes.

Powder, on the other hand, had clung to your good arm, burying her face against you. “Does it hurt?” she whispered, her voice fragile.

You forced a smile, running your fingers through her messy blue hair. “Not as much as it used to.”

Claggor and Mylo had kept their distance at first, unsure of what to say, but eventually, they found ways to fill the silence. Claggor would bring you things you needed before you even asked, and Mylo—despite his usual grumbling—made sure to remind you that you were still strong.

The streets of Zaun had taken something from you. But they wouldn’t take everything.

Because Vander was still here. The kids were still here. And as long as they were, you’d find a way to keep moving forward.

SILCO

The factory was dimly lit, the stench of oil and metal thick in the air. It had all started as a simple trade—an exchange of goods, whispers of alliance. But in Zaun, nothing ever went as planned.

Y/N had been at Silco’s side, standing firm as always, unwavering even as the tension in the room thickened. She had learned long ago how to keep her nerves in check, especially in the underbelly of the city where death loomed in every shadow.

Then it all went to hell.

A single misstep, a poorly worded insult, or maybe just the inevitable betrayal—no one could say for sure. But the moment steel glinted in the flickering light, Y/N knew they were in trouble.

A flash of silver, a blur of movement—

Pain.

It came first as a jarring numbness, an almost surreal detachment, before the searing agony took over. Y/N barely registered the scream tearing from her own throat as she stumbled backward, her vision swimming. The air reeked of blood—her blood. Her arm—

Gone.

Sevika’s roar echoed through the factory as she launched herself into the fray, her mechanical arm making quick work of their enemies. The other gang never stood a chance, not against her fury, not against the wrath of Zaun’s undercity.

But Silco—

He was at her side in an instant, his mismatched eyes blown wide with horror. Y/N saw something rare flicker across his sharp features—fear. Real, unrestrained fear.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, voice strained, hands slick with her blood as he pressed against the ragged wound. It wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop.

She was slipping.

Silco’s gaze darted around wildly, calculating, desperate. And then he saw it—the pipe.

A rusted section of the massive steamworks, pulsating with heat, nearly glowing. He hesitated only for a second. There was no time for anything else. If he didn’t act now—

“Silco—” Y/N rasped, half-conscious, barely clinging to him.

“I know,” he whispered, pain lacing his voice. His grip around her tightened. “Forgive me.”

Then he pressed her stump against the scalding metal.

Y/N’s world erupted into white-hot agony. A scream tore from her throat, raw and primal, echoing off the factory’s iron walls. Her body bucked violently, every nerve screaming in protest, but Silco was relentless. He held her close, his arms like a vice, his breath ragged against her ear.

The acrid scent of burning flesh thickened the air, nearly choking them both. Her sobs turned into choked gasps, her strength draining with every second that passed.

“It’s alright,” he murmured, though his own voice wavered. “I’ve got you, Y/N. Just a little longer.”

His hands trembled, his grip firm yet desperate, as though he was holding onto something far more fragile than flesh and bone. He could feel her body shuddering beneath him, the last of her fight slipping through her fingers.

Finally, it was done. The worst of it subsided, though the air still sizzled with the remnants of her pain. Silco pulled her away from the pipe with infinite care, cradling her against him. His fingers ghosted over her sweat-drenched hair, his lips pressing against her forehead in a silent vow.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, raw. “Stay with me.”

She didn’t respond. Her body had gone limp, drained, but her breathing was still there—weak, uneven, but there.

Silco swallowed hard, the weight of what had just happened pressing against his chest like a vice. He had done what needed to be done. He had saved her.

The days that followed were a blur of fevered nightmares and excruciating pain. Y/N drifted in and out of consciousness, the echoes of her own screams clawing at the edges of her mind. The scent of burnt flesh haunted her—thick, acrid, suffocating. It clung to her skin, to the sheets, to the very air she breathed, refusing to let her go. Even in sleep, it lingered, curling in the corners of her mind like smoke from an endless fire.

Every breath felt like fire, every movement a cruel reminder of what had been taken from her. Her arm was gone.

And yet, she could still feel it.

The first time it happened, she had jolted awake, heart hammering as her fingers—fingers that were no longer there—curled into an invisible fist. A ghost sensation, sharp and biting, twisting through nerves that no longer had anything to grasp.

She could still feel the burn of the pipe, the phantom ache of her lost limb, and it drove her to the edge of madness.

Silco never left her side. Even as his work called for him, even as Zaun demanded his attention, he remained. He sat by her bed, his sharp gaze softer than she had ever seen it. He watched over her, hands clasped, always ready should she call for him in the middle of the night.

She hated this. She hated the weakness, the helplessness. The weight of his gaze made her feel fragile, something she had never allowed herself to be.

“I can still feel it,” she whispered one night, her voice barely audible in the dimly lit room.

Silco looked up from his thoughts, studying her. “Phantom pain.”

She swallowed, her throat tight. “It won’t go away.”

He reached out, fingers brushing over the bandages that wrapped around the remainder of her arm. It was a rare touch, almost hesitant, but firm. “Then we’ll do something about it.”

Silco went to Singed.

The scientist had always been unpredictable, dangerous even, but he was also brilliant. And if there was anyone who could make Y/N whole again, it was him.

“She’ll need time to adapt,” Singed mused, examining his blueprints. “The body rejects what it does not know. But I can make her something… effective.”

Silco’s fingers curled into fists. “It has to be more than that.”

Singed’s lips curled, amusement flickering across his otherwise impassive face. “Then let’s make her something… worthy of Zaun.”

When the time came, Y/N was skeptical. The idea of a replacement felt foreign, unnatural. But when Silco placed the mechanical arm before her, his expression unreadable, she knew he had done this not for his empire, not for power—

But for her.

And as the metal clicked into place, as new sensations began to pulse through circuits and steel, Y/N knew one thing for certain.

She was not broken.

She was reborn.

JINX

The moment the explosion rocked the warehouse, everything became a blur of smoke, fire, and shrapnel. You barely had time to register the collapse of the steel beams before one of them came crashing down, pinning your arm beneath it. The pain was instant and excruciating, a white-hot agony that shot through your entire body. Your screams were drowned out by the ringing in your ears and the chaos surrounding you.

Jinx was there in an instant, her blue eyes wide with something rare—fear. She skidded to her knees beside you, hands hovering over the mangled remains of your arm. The metal beam had crushed the bones, tearing through flesh like paper. Blood pooled around you, soaking into the dusty ground beneath.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Jinx muttered, tugging at the beam, but it wouldn’t budge. She let out a sharp whistle. “Sevika! Get your ass over here—now!”

Sevika approached, her usual smirk absent as she took in the situation. Her mechanical arm flexed as she studied the wreckage pinning you. “This thing’s not moving anytime soon,” she grunted. “She’s stuck.”

Jinx’s lips pressed into a thin line. Then, she did something she never did. She hesitated. Her fingers twitched against the cool metal of the beam before she met Sevika’s gaze. “Cut it off.”

Sevika’s brow lifted. “You sure about that?”

“Yes.”

Your breath hitched. “Jinx—”

She turned to you, her expression softer than usual. “I know,” she whispered. “I know it sucks. But if we don’t do this, you die, and I kinda like having you around, y’know?”

You barely had the strength to nod. Your body trembled as Sevika unsheathed her blade, the steel catching the flickering light. Jinx crouched beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pressing her forehead to yours.

“This is gonna suck,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “But I’ve got you. Just hold on, okay?”

The sword came down. You didn’t even get the chance to scream before everything went dark.

When you woke up, the first thing you felt was absence.

Your arm was gone. Even without looking, you could feel it—or rather, the lack of it. A deep, phantom ache pulsed where it should have been, a ghost of pain that refused to fade. Your breath hitched as you tried to move it, only to be met with nothing but empty air. Panic clawed at your throat, a suffocating weight of realization sinking in.

“Whoa, whoa, easy there, champ.”

Jinx’s voice cut through the haze. You turned your head and saw her perched beside your bed, knees pulled to her chest. There were dark circles under her eyes, her usual manic energy dimmed, replaced with something more subdued. Her fingers fidgeted with a wrench as she watched you, her expression unreadable.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” she said quietly. “The whole… missing part thing.”

You swallowed hard, nodding. The weight of reality pressed against your chest, making it difficult to breathe. It wasn’t just pain—it was the sensation of something being stolen from you, something that should be there but wasn’t. It was unnatural, wrong. Your fingers twitched, or at least, you thought they did. But nothing happened. The limb wasn’t there.

“Jinx…”

“I know.” Her voice was softer than usual, lacking its usual teasing edge. “I— I couldn’t just leave you like that. So… I fixed it.”

Your brow furrowed, confusion flickering through the pain. That’s when you noticed the worktable beside her, the one piled high with tools, gears, and metal plating. A mechanical arm—sleek, intricate, and undoubtedly Jinx’s handiwork—lay in pieces, waiting to be assembled. The sight of it made your breath catch in your throat.

Your voice was barely above a whisper. “Jinx… did you—?”

She grinned, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “What, you think I’d just let you go around all lopsided? Nah. You’re my best friend. And I don’t let my friends stay broken.”

Your throat tightened, emotions crashing over you in waves. Gratitude, grief, frustration, and something else—something you couldn’t quite name. The loss of your arm still weighed heavily on you, the phantom ache a cruel reminder of what had happened. But Jinx… Jinx was still here. And she had been here the whole time, working, building, fixing.

Jinx set down the wrench and reached for your remaining hand, giving it a squeeze. It was rare for her to be this gentle, this vulnerable. “It’s gonna be different,” she admitted. “But I’ll help you through it, okay?”

Your lips parted, but words failed you. Instead, you exhaled shakily and nodded.

She squeezed your hand again, her grip firm, grounding you. “We’ll get through this together,” she added, her voice more certain this time. “And when we’re done, you’ll have the coolest arm in all of Zaun.”

A weak chuckle escaped you. “Only if you don’t make it shoot fireworks or something.”

Jinx’s eyes lit up with mischief, her grin widening. “Ohhh, now that’s an idea.”

You groaned, but the laughter felt good—real, despite everything. And for the first time since the accident, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you’d be alright.

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senanatheskenana · 1 year ago

Text

Being Their Soul Mate <3

Tanjirou, Zenitsu, Inosuke x reader (separate)

Tanjirou Kamado

From the moment you got close enough for Tanjirou to smell, he knew you were his soul mate. And before you know it, he's sprinting towards you, following the perfect smell. He stops in front of you, blushing like a fool from head to toe.

You can feel the pull towards him, even without an introduction. Your eyes can hardly leave each other, basking in the overwhelming silence. You smile at him, your own cheeks tinted pink, holding out your hand to him. He jumps out of his daze and grips your hand enthusiastically, bringing it to his lips to place a heartfelt kiss on your knuckles.

"I'm sorry to be so forward, i really should have introduced myself before. Please forgive me!" he bows deeply- so deeply you think his head may hit the floor. You fight back a sheepish laugh, shaking your head.

"My name is Tanjirou Kamado, it's beyond a pleasure to meet you," he still holds your hand carefully, loose enough for you to pull it away should you desire to. You don't.

"I'm (f/n) (l/n). I never imagined my soul mate to be as sweet as you, Tanjirou," you can see how his face turns even redder at your words, stuttering out broken sentences.

You gently squeeze his hand, "Did you want to join me on my walk? we have a lot to talk about, I feel"

He nods eagerly, letting you pull him through the streets, all while staring bashfully at the way your hair sways as you move. He thinks he might already be in love.

Zenitsu Agatsuma

'Marry me!'

Those were the words inked into your wrist. A brash, scribbling handwriting. Admittedly you were worried about the circumstances of you meeting your soul mate, given the intense first words.

Evidently, the situation was not nearly as sad as you worried it could be. You weren't being married off, no.

Your soul mate was just super weird.

You shake your leg, hoping to remove the boy from his hold. He's sobbing on the floor, mumbling incoherent pleas at you, still shaken up from the demon he would have been attacked by, had you not struck.

"W-what the hell? You can't just spring that on someone!" you squeal. Finally, he lets go, a look of shock on his face. A moment later a shockingly warm sensation takes over the two of you. You grip your wrist, and he scratches at his shoulder, letting out yelps of 'ouchies'

You look down at your wrist to see the letters glowing gold, pulsing against your bones. Zenitsu gazes up at you momentarily before bawling and returning to clinging onto your legs. You take the time to help him up while his two friends watch in confusion and embarrassment at his actions.

He holds both of your hands and brings them to his cheeks, and you can feel how hot his face is. "Y-you're my soul mate. That means you have to marry me"

You sigh but smile. At least he was enthusiastic, you guessed.

"Maybe let's just start with a date and we can go from there" His tears disappear at your words, replaced by a gigantic smile, not even you can resist.

Inosuke Hashibira

For as long as Inosuke can remember, he's had the name (f/n) (l/n) engraved into his collarbone. Too bad he couldn't read it without Tanjirou's help.

"(f/n) (l/n)..." Tanjirou taps his chin in thought for a moment before gasping, "I got it- that's the ice pillar's name! "

Zenitsu fawns at the idea, "Wow, imagine having a soul mate strong enough to be a Hashira"

He hears the word strong and immediately puffs out his chest, "If they're strong, I'm gonna beat 'em!" Tanjirou now realises that Inosuke doesn't know the concept of Soul Mates.

By the time he tries to explain it, the boy is sprinting through the courtyard, dodging pillars and kakushi.

"Inosuke-" Tanjirou cannot finish his mortified plea.

"ICE HASHIRA COME HERE AND FIGHT ME!" everyone turns towards him in shock and confusion.

"Don't be so loud! if you really wanna see them, they're sitting on that bench" Sanemi scowls at the group of boys, making Tanjirou blanch, uttering apologies.

You're peacefully lying across the bench, nose planted firmly in your book when a shadow falls over you. Slowly you gaze up at the man towering over you before moving to sit up straight.

You recognise the boy in the checkered haori, smiling "Hello Tanjirou. It's nice to see you again. Are these your friends"

Before a smiling Tanjirou can respond, Inosuke brings his sword down beside your hand.

"FIGHT ME!" his face flushes with blood as he seethes under his mask.

You give him a serene smile, "I'm sorry but I believe it would be dangerous for you if I were to fight back."

He pays no mind and swings his sword above him. He looks down only to find you gone in the blink of an eye. In less than three seconds, his katanas are wrenched out of his hands as he is pinned to the ground.

Tanjirou gasps at the embarrassingly short battle- if you could call it such. "Inosuke! Are you both alright?"

'Inosuke?'

You glance down at the man under your foot, "Is your name Inosuke Hashibira?" you ask as calmly as ever, gently releasing him from the hold.

"Yeah, what's it to you?" he scowls under his mask. He doesn't know why he's so nervous around you but it's pissing him off.

"My name is (y/n), the ice Hashira," your smile has an unanticipated calming effect on inosuke, "it would seem we are soul mates"

he blushes at your giggle, still not understanding what a soul mate is. He looks at Tanjirou for help, who sighs.

It was going to be an agonising conversation. He drags the boar boy away, inosuke still staring at you as you wave them goodbye. He wouldn't admit that he missed you already.

#demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #tanjiro kamado #tanjiro x reader #zenitsu x reader #inosuke x reader #demon slayer imagine #demon slayer fluff #kny #kny x reader

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spencersbabymama · 4 months ago

Text

Numbers l Chapter One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Disabled OC

Content Warning: Mention of disability, mention of disability limitations, I think that's about it.

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: It's the first day of Brooke Bevan's dream job working as a technical analyst for the Behavioral Analyst Unit in the FBI. She knows girls like her don't get jobs like these every day so she doesn't want to blow it. What she wasn't expecting, was to meet a dapper genius her age....

a/n: AAAAAHHH I'm so excited to finally be posting this! This series is my baby and I'm so excited to share. I'm really passionate about writing disabled characters since I'm disabled myself, and I've noticed a lack of Spencer Reid x Disabled OC content, so I figured why not do it myself? Shout out to @just-call-me-by-yn & @floraisunwell for pushing me to go forward with this idea! I'm so happy I met you both! Also credit to @just-call-me-by-yn for making this awesome banner for me 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Story: “Hey, thanks for meeting me downstairs. You would think for a government building, they would have easier to reach elevator buttons for everyone.” I joke, trying to break the ice with the person I’ll be spending most of my time with.

Although that didn’t seem to be a problem because the second I entered the lobby, Penelope Garcia, BAU Technical Analyst Extraordinaire, was standing right in the middle wearing white dress covered in colorful flowers, pink cardigan, matching kooky glasses, yellow heels, and all wrapped up in a smile that could possibly blind an elderly person. It was at that moment, I knew work, at least, wouldn't be boring.

“Oh honey, no problem, I probably would have raced to the lobby even if you didn’t call just so I could be the first one to greet you.” Penelope giggled. I opened my mouth to add my own witty humor but instantly got cut off. “You know normally I don’t love newbies joining the team, especially newbies entering my expertise, but I had a feeling when I found out you were another techy kick butt girl? Oh my gosh I was so excited!” Penelope added, almost seeming out of breath now from her said excitement.

All I could do was giggle and nod in agreement.

It was a relief to know I didn’t embarrass myself in the first few minutes on the job. I knew the fact that I got this job was an accomplishment. Girls like me don’t get jobs like these everyday. Girls like me who have no use of their legs and have limited muscle strength, do not get jobs in the Behavioral Analysis Unit in the FBI. Though it was my dream, the moment when I couldn't reach the elevator buttons was an honest wake up call

Ever since I was little I loved the idea of saving others and catching bad guys. When other girls were painting their nails, or playing princess, I was in the city library reading about Ted Bundy. Strange for a 12 year old girl, I know, but I couldn’t stop thinking about why people did what they did. Don’t worry I still enjoyed dolling up my nails every once in a while.

Obviously it was no secret I couldn’t run after criminals, or even use a gun so I knew it was probably a pipe dream. So I shifted gears, got into tech and code. I could do that. With the right adaptive technology, I could run laps around any encryption. Luckily I never used my powers for evil. In high school I learned about technical analysts who worked for the FBI. That was it, that was my path.

The elevator opened and I followed Penelope through the glass doors, into the bullpen I saw in my college textbooks. If it wasn’t clear by my beaming smile, I was almost start struck by the sight of all the agents sitting at the desks working and I got to be one of them. One agent stood out though because instead of flipping through files or paperwork, he was playing chess, by himself. The other odd thing was he looked about my age. I expected to be the youngest one on the team because by some miracle, I got this job only a few years after graduating college. His floppy curly brown hair shielded his eyes slightly, but even from where I was, I could tell they were brown.

Penelope’s voice took me out of my trance and my eyes snapped up to look at her “Hotch told me to come get him when you arrived since well…” She gestured to the wheels of my motorized wheelchair, then up to the door in the middle of the walkway above the main level of the bullpen with a small awkward giggle “Stairs, so I’ll be right back.” I snicker slightly then nod, sending her up the stairs and into the room she pointed to.

While waiting, my gaze goes back to the chess playing guy. He was young but dressed like an old man, suit, tie, and everything. There was something wise about him, like his looks were youthful but it seemed like he’s seen some things.

Hotch’s office door opened before he and Penelope made their way down the steps. I met them halfway, holding out my hand as best I could with a smile “Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, Brooke Bevan, it’s seriously an honor to be working with you.” In my defense, I didn't mean to sound like a fan girl, it just came out that way.

With a firm grip, Hotch shook my hand “Welcome, we’re eager to have you.” Already I could tell the rumors were true. Aaron Hotchner was all business and it looked like he hadn’t smiled in at least a month. He was the man in charge for a reason though, the number of successful cases couldn’t lie.

Hotch reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out the thing that makes all this official. My face beams as my heart races in my chest. “Here are your credentials. As you should already know, you must keep these on you.” I nod while practically ogling the FBI symbol on the front of my credentials. “Penelope can introduce you to everyone.” Hotch explains while placing the booklet on my lap then heads back up to his office.

Penelope practically shakes with excitement “It’s official newbie!” She was right. I am now Brooke Bevan, Technical Analyst for the FBI, it had a nice ring to it. “Come and meet everyone!” Penelope chimes before leading to a group sitting in the middle of the bullpen.

A dark-haired girl looks up from the file she was reading and her face lights up when she sees us coming “Hey! You must be Brooke.” She stands up and shakes my hand “I’m Emily Prentis, it’s nice to meet you. Hotch has said good things.”

I grin with a nod before one by one introduces themselves with a handshake. Derek Morgan, David Rossi, then Jennifer Jareau who apparently goes by JJ. Finally there was Chess Guy. I hold out my hand before he awkwardly waves it off with a small smile “I-I actually don’t do handshakes. Did you know according to studies, a handshake can transfer a significant amount of bacteria, with research showing that a handshake transmits nearly twice as many bacteria compared to a high five and significantly more than a fist bump, which is considered the most hygienic greeting option du-”

“And that is Dr. Spencer Reid.” JJ cut him off with a small amused laugh.

My eyes blink a few times, trying to drink in the info dump plus the fact that JJ just said doctor. My eyebrows furrow a little in confusion “You look a little young to be a doctor…” My voice trails off.

That’s when Penelope speaks up “Reid is our team genius.”

Reid sheepishly “I don’t really believe you can quantify knowledge but I do have an IQ of 187 and eidetic memory.”

I give another stunned look and utter “Huh…” To be honest I couldn’t recall knowing anyone with that amount of smarts, I couldn’t help but be impressed. “How about a high five then?” I finally say with a smile while holding out my hand.

Spencer’s face seemed to light up and he reached out to give me a high five.

Suddenly Hotch comes out with a thick file folder in his hand, his presence commanding attention. “We have a case.”

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threepandas · 4 months ago

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Bad End: Lost at Star Sea

It was sheer luck I even glanced down. Stopped, longed enough to doubled check, triple check, my next jump. I didn't really need too. Trusted my ship's computers, (quite literally) with my life. Kinda had too, after so long, out in the sea of stars. So the fact that I paused? Checked? Noticed that stuttering little signal at all?

Really, it could only be luck.

Good, bad, a miracle or disaster in the making? Couldn't tell ya.

But I DID notice. And I DID, immediately, hit the override for my cued up jumps to Starline. Because as every pilot worth even a fraction of their soul will tell you? You see an SOS beacon? You fucking ANSWER it.

Yes, pirates pull the "help I'm stuck" trick. And yeah, there are other unscrupulous folks out there. But! That's part of why the bounty hunter's guild and pirate hunter's come down so HARD on those fuckers. If you discourage people from HELPING stranded pilots? People fucking DIE out there.

Cold Void Of Space, remember?

Far as I'm concerned? Old ship rules apply, there are enough horrors, lurking out there. We do NOT need to add to them. All differences are to be kept planet side. THEN you can kill each other.

Thank the stars, I had decided to go the back lanes. Yeah, it added a few extra weeks to my trip, that I couldn't spend on that swanky beach at Starline, but? The "road trip" through the outer edge of the galaxy had been worth it. Plenty of cool sights and fun new foods. And NOW, clearly, the much needed chance to be in the right place at the right time.

Getting my ship in close, I tried to hail the softly free floating wreck. It looked smashed. Like it hit or was struck by something at speed. They had clearly managed to slow themselves, but beyond that? I couldnt see much stabilization. The whole ship sat dark. Not good.

My dash said there was nothing to hail TOO. Fuck. I tried difference frequencies. Maybe they had a hand-held? Earpiece? Something? But I couldn't connect to anything. Find, anything. Shit! Okay. Okay! Plan B. Try to get a registration while I connect us up. Pray to which ever Gods gaurds this one's soul, that they breathe a similar gas mix.

Loading... loading...

Oh, thank FUCK!

Compatible air AND drones, someone up or out there, really DOES want these guys to live! I force myself to be calm. Rushing won't help anybody, but WILL make a mess, after all. Bring up that frustrating drone request program I downloaded on a whim. Watch as, dispite the odds, lights flicker on across the hull of the ship.

Emergency protocols engage. They, obviously, get no counter order. And? Like the beautiful, life saving, little dumbasses they are? Immediately begin to zip and trundle into position to drag the wreckage in towards my ship. Gods bless the collective single IQ point of drones. Good babies. Such good babies!

With a heavy shudder and thunk, we connect.

Already, I am hovering by the latch. Emergency kit in hand. Breather on. The second it's confirmed, I twist the latch and...Oh gods. The air that surges up to greet me is so cold, it BURNS. I hadn't even though I was sweating, hadn't noticed it, until it felt like stabbing flash frozen crystals on my face. Shit! Oh gods, oh SHIT!

I scramble down, ladder burning cold even through my gloves. Red emergency lights and terrible silence greet me. I move quick. Emergencies & Stranding classes echoing in my head. Check the warmest part of the ship first, then work your way out. If they CAN move, they'll know to retreat there.

Registration said the ship had fifteen people. No idea how many survived the impact and cold, but hopefully? All of them. I may not have the room or rations for a comfortable trip. But it'd be warm. And I could get them to a port.

They should be in the central compartment, which is usually critical storage and medbay. Getting there, the door has clearly been forced to slide open by someone with claws and blood on their hands. It couldn't close properly, they bent it getting it open.

Looking down, there... oh gods. There is A LOT of blood on the floor.

Something... someONE? Dragged to storage. Blood trails thick on the floor. There must be a preserver; trying, maybe, to keep their friends from rotting? Might be shock? And they just... couldn't figure out where to put the bodies. I shake my head, tearing my horrified eyes away. Concentrate! Save the living. The dead are already gone. Be sick about it later.

It takes the crowbar I brought, now cold enough to worry me, to force the door to slide again. The room in side is barely warmer then the air outside. But? There, against the far wall? Is just about every clothe and piece of fabric in the ship. Two emergency blankets glinting from withing the chaotic pile.

The only other people in the room are clearly dead. Injuries. He must have tried to treat them but been unable too. Regardless of what happened, I rush forward. Unearthing an unconscious Aqualin from his self made fabric tomb. The colouration might mean he's from the deep water region. But without his eyes or mouth open I can't TELL.

I hope so, his chance of survival would go up tremendously. Dragging the limp, dangerously hypothermic, man onto my shoulders in a fireman's carry, I get us the hell out. His front is stained in blood. His hands coated. Everything that could go wrong? Seems too. But if I have any say, he is NOT dying here.

Dragging us into my now cold ship, I clumsily kick at the latch until I manage to flip it closed. Just for now. I'll have to go back down for those blankets and such, to help get him warm. But first? I get my rescue set up, warming up.

A further few, brutally cold, few trips to loot the ship of what I safely can before I can close that latch for good. Lock away the horrors to be found there. Stacking everything up and off to the side for him. I'm pretty sure I even found his wallet. So at least? He won't be destitute. Then, while the droids transferred the last of the wreck's fuel? I start to bring up the heat back to normal. Slowly.

Once all is said and down, I silence the emergency beacon and send in the mandatory report. Might be a while before a cleaning crew can get out here... but, well... at least those poor bastard's family's would have some closure. Life insurance. That sort if thing.

.....fuck today has been shit.

"Ooooh go on a vacaaaaation~" Everybody said. "You're so overworked!" They had said. "So STRESSED! You definitely won't find a ship full of corpses!" Thanks for that, guys! Having SUCH a great time. No, REALLY.

Detaching from the wreckage is almost... no, IS horrific in how easy it is. It just... float away. Silent, dark, and gentle. A cold bit of nothingness, lost in the void. Sinking into the stars with it's cargo full of dead, like... like nothing happened at all. It looks so small. Just a twisted bit of metal. Drifting... drifting... away....

Even with the heaters bringing the heat back up, I feel cold.

That could have been me.

What the hell happened? I tear my eyes away from the view screen. Back down to the dash board. Standard operating procedure is to grab the black box of a wreck, even if you find no survivors. Helps universal safety innovation and regulatory blah blah blah. Had to drill it into my head to even GET my license. So... so now... there it is. Grabbed.

I... COULD look.

Fiddling with my rescues wallet, I stare at it. It's hella illegal. Breach of privacy. You can't just... just go into someone's ship and poke around. Look up where they've been and who they've been talking too about what. All their data would be on that thing. Soothing MY anxiety is not more important then THEIR boundaries, right? I should leave it.

I flip the wallet open. My rescue's smiling face grins back up at me, like some sort of dork at a photo shoot. He's leaning against an advertisement for, ironically, Starline. Probably the same beach that convinced me to go. All relaxed confidence and swagger, he looks nothing like the half frozen man I dragged from that ship.

My rescue has lost weight. A concerning amount of color. But? Looking at the rich black of the eyes and the point of his teeth? He seem to be either mostly or full blooded Deep Sea Aqualin. Thank FUCK.

There was a celebrity Tropical Region Aqualin a while back that my baby cousin was weirdly obsessed with. Not stalking obsessed, but? The "family is concerned" obsessed, you know? We all ended up learning WAY too much about their entire species. WAY, WAY too much.

Dea Sea Aqualin are apparently just? Built different. Like, "can withstand a degree of pressure and cold and would kill most others" different. The dehydration might still get him, but the cold? Might NOT.

Flipping the wallet closed, I ignore my gut. I don't need to see what's on that black box. Yeah, I'd find out what happened after they lost propulsion. But? Watching doomed men die? That's sick. There's nothing worth finding there. It's just anxiety.

I reset my next jump. The sooner we get to the next port, the sooner my Rescue (X'alus, apparently) can get help. Then? I head back to check on him. I think, he might be stirring. Approaching the mound of blankets, it turns out I'm right.

" 'rm?" He manages to slur, voices crackling like it's a fight to get anything out. "Wh're 'm? Who?"

There is no good way to tell someone a whole ship full of crewmates is... gone. But, fuck, if I don't try. Gently sitting him up, I help him drink from a hydration pouch. Little at a time, so as not to stress his likely starved stomach. He leans, boneless, towards me. Like he wishes he could drag himself into my lap. Staring like I hold the secrets to the universe.

"Pre'ty. Warm. You sav'd me?"

I nod, shooting him a smile as I tuck the blanket more firmly around him. Poor guy is still pretty weak. But he's healing fast. That's good. He smiles back, bright predators teeth glinting in the ship's light. (Bit unhinged looking, but hey, he seems loopy.)

"Y're my hero~ pre'ty, pre'ty hero~!"

"Arn't I lucky? You found me!"

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angelltheninth · 2 months ago

Text

What's That Falling From the Sky

Pairing: Kara Danvers x Lena Luthor

Febuwhump Day 27: Post Victory Collapse

Tags: fluff, angst, injury, passing out, kissing, relationship reveal

Word count: 1.2k

Ao3

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions | Event Masterlist

A/N: Supercorp not being canon is angsty enough. Their existence alone should be enough to fill a prompt.

People weren't scared when Supergirl fought and beat a supervillain. They were scared when she collapsed and crashed into the road below afterwards. Lena wasn't just scared, she was terrified and worried sick. So much so that she stormed right out of her meeting and stormed into the DEO.

No one there was panicking nearly as much as she was. Which was a good sign she supposed, if Kara was in any real danger she would have heard Alex yelling already. But she wasn't, she was sitting next to Kara, who looked fine, safe for some minor bruises and scratches that were already in the healing stages.

"You can't keep overdoing it Kara, one of these days a punch like that could send you into a coma." Kara didn't seem too worried about it, in fact she started laughing it off but stopped as soon as she spotted Lena standing at the door.

"Oh, Lena! You're here!" She was smiling. Like the whole City, if not more, hadn't just seen her crash from the sky. Like she wasn't injured and there was never any danger to begin with.

Pissed off Lena marched into the room, confusing Kara, Alex and the staff. But what confused them more was the kiss that followed. She would have thrown herself at Kara were she not worried about hurting her, so she settled for a passionate embrace instead. Kara gasped in surprise, allowing Lena to deepen the kiss. It wasn't like Kara didn't have the lung capacity.

But she did have shame, a whole lot of it.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again, is that clear, Kara?!" Lena still held onto her, her shoulder, her cape, while she blinked away tears of frustration.

Kara was more scared of Lena's fury than any other enemy, and of hurting her. "Scare you? It was just a little fight, Lena. You've seen me do it before." Slapping her would probably break Lena's hand but maybe it was worth it when her girlfriend seemed to have so little regard for her own safety. "Besides I'm fine. Look!" Kara struck a pose and flexed, then another, and another. "Good as new, babe!"

"Babe?" Kara paused mid flex and looked at her sister, who looked angry and horrified. "And since when exactly have you two had this kind of a relationship? And why wasn't I informed?"

The staff already made their quiet exit, sensing it was probably best to pretend that they didn't see or hear anything.

"Well... you know... we were gonna tell you, Alex. Tell everyone. Eventually." Kara looked like a puppy that got caught doing something bad. "Eventually for sure."

"Right. I was eventually gonna be told that my little sister was dating the CEO of L-Corp. Instead I had to witness a make out session. Yuck. Don't ever do that in front of me again because I don't want to think about my baby sister doing that with anyone." She would rather go into the Phantom Zone.

But that was just the idea that Lena needed. She needed to talk to Kara alone and unlike Kara she didn't have the shame needed to prevent her from doing anything scandalous. She hugged Kara again. "I was so worried about you. I couldn't help myself. Kara." Kara blushed when Lena's lips brushed against her cheek.

"You... keep it in your pants!" Alex stood up abruptly and narrowed her eyes at the couple. "We will talk about keeping secrets later. And you, Luthor, I'll talk to you about seducing my sister." She pointed her finger at Lena and didn't stop until the door closed.

"You made my sister mad. It was nice dating you, Lena." Kara sighed but she leaned in, to kiss Lena anyways. However Lena moved away, leaving Kara looking confused mid-kiss.

"Do you have any self-preservation instincts at all? In your entire body is there one cell decided to it. Or in that big brain of yours is there ever a thought that tells you that you should keep yourself alive for your own sake?!" Lena's voice rose with every question, her hands gripping at Kara harder.

"Yes? I have to come back to you and everyone else don't I?" Kara hugged her. "So you never have to worry about-"

"But I do worry! I worry every time, can't you see that?!" Lena knew she wasn't doing anything by smacking her fists against Kara's front but she couldn't help herself. "Every time you fight even if you come back completely fine, I will still worry about you. I'm your girlfriend and your best friend, Kara. Worrying about you is part of the description."

"Lena, I'm sorry. I don't want you to worry. Ever. But I guess it's kind of inevitable huh, with me being a superhero and all." She lightly cupped Lena's face and looked deep into her eyes. She really wanted to make her feel better. But how? She couldn't stop doing what she was doing, the world, the universe, the multiverse, needed her.

Lena worried about her, but Kara had to worry about the well-being of everyone else. It wasn't something she could just quit.

"Next time... I call in for back-up. I know Alex is always telling me I shouldn't rush in alone. But that's about all I can do. Everyone's counting on me to be strong for them. And you... I know there were times where you were strong for me too. I see it, feel it. When you hold me, kiss me, when you insist on taking me to all those fancy places to treat me, when you praise me, when you offer to help me. I see it Lena. Thank you, for being strong for me." Lena chewed on her bottom lip, not as used to praise as Kara was.

But Kara always gave it so liberally. Her love, it wasn't something Lena had to prove herself worthy of. She just had it. "I'm scared of losing you. We've been friends for years, Kara. Dating for over a year now, and the amount of love you've given me is more than I ever hoped for. I don't want to lose you."

"And you won't. I would escape the Phantom Zone to get home to you. I love you too much to die." She was the Woman of Steel who was too in love to die.

"One of these days you need to stop thinking like that. I don't want you to go to the Phantom Zone, ever. I'd much rather you stay with me the whole time." She hugged Kara close, just the sound of her heartbeat was enough to give Kara strength. "By the way, I'm sorry about revealing our relationship, I know it wasn't how we planned it."

"It certainly didn't involve kissing in front of my sister." Alex will either scold her for keeping secrets, or tease her about finally getting with Lena.

Lena hummed, her hands massaging Kara's shoulders. "Well, she's not here now."

"That... is true." Kara already liked where this was going even before Lena unbuttoned her shirt. "Are you trying to motivate me to come back in good condition? Cause um... this is a good way to do it, Lena."

"Good to know. A way to get you to do what I want. Love, food and boobs." She teased before kissing her again, the cameras in the DEO be damned. After all she had more than enough money to bribe every single person working here into forgetting everything they saw.

#kara danvers #supergirl #lena luthor #supercorp #supercorp fanfic #febuwhump #febuwhump 2025

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sqgeism · 2 years ago

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↳ pairing : jing yuan x gender neutral reader

↳ synopsis : memories lost, memories found ( part 2 !! )

↳ authors note : i'm very sorry if this doesn't fit anyones expectations or standards, as i dont really like this myself :( i might take a short tiny break, mostly to get my rhythm back! thank yaurrr <3

There's a small crowd that surrounds the Cloudford area, whispers and chatters coming from bystanders and even a few Cloud Knights. All step out of the way when JING YUAN walks through, but their stares spark an uneasy feeling in him. What could be causing such a stir between the people?

Once he makes it to the front, there's a sight of what seems to be a person just about his age wearing parts and pieces of different Cloud Knight armor and clothing. "Let me go!" The muffled voice yells due to their headpiece.

Jing Yuan kneels down in front of them, grabbing them by the chin and making them look at him. Though he couldn't see their face, the slight startle in their body language was as clear as day. "Stop..!-" They beg, trying to pull away but the grip around their wrist makes it impossible to move.

They attempt to move their head away, but the slow slip of their mask makes them panic further. Once it fully falls, Jing Yuan's eyes widen as he takes a moment to absorb their features. Your features. The fear in your expression causes him to stumble, dropping the mask as he realizes exactly who you are. "(name?)" He'll say as soft as a whisper, about to reach his hand out for your cheek but the adrenaline and fear gives you enough strength to give one strong tug and free yourself.

"Wait!-" He'll yell, but you ignore his pleas and turn your back. Running as fast as your feet can take you, and he has no idea what comes over him, but he picks himself up and chase after you. He thought he lost you, that he'd never see you again, so he's not about to lose you when you're right there.

You disappear somewhere in an area surrounded by crates, but something, an odd sixth sense was telling him that you were there somewhere. A sense that he once failed to listen to, on the day he lost you, and he was not about to make that same mistake. "(name).." Jing Yuan's footsteps grow closer, and you use one hand to muffle your sobs as you hid in one of the containers

You watch as he steps inside, looking down at you as you refused to meet his gaze. Burying your head into your knees as you sniffle. "I-"

"I know what you're going to say." You began, lifting your head up slightly but not quite enough to look at him. Not after all those years you had left him alone to suffer. "Why didn't I come back? Why did I leave you to be alone?" You say with a growing frustration in your tone, not at him, but to yourself. As if what you're saying was directed at you, at what you did in the past. "W-well.. I didn't know what to do, okay? Everyone thought I was dead, or even Mara-struck. I was afraid of returning at the idea that many would think that I am a monster, I certainly looked the part after the incident.. B-but look at you! You're.. the General, just like we knew you would be! And.. you've been good without me. I knew you would be okay even when I'm not around, and maybe I could be wrong but.. Y-you're better than ever, aren't you?"

You can feel his hand make its way to the top of your head, and as you spoke, it would slowly travel downwards to the side of your head and he finally pauses at your cheek. "Stop with your silence, idiot! I don't want your pity, nor your forgiveness, just.. say something!"

He slowly lifts your head, to reveal the gentleness of his soul that mirrored through his eyes. The way he opens his lips but no words come out makes you feel like the world has gone quiet, as if the world itself held its breath and was waiting for his answer.

"When I closed my eyes, your blurred face was all I would see. So now that I'm here, your face in my hands, despite my eyes wide open.. I'm just hoping you don't disappear when I let go."

A shaky breath escapes your lips, inhaling as it turns into a breathless laugh. Tears forming in your eyes as you pull him into a tight hug, blubbering nonsense that were intended to be words. You had so much to say, so much to do, yet all you wanted was this moment to last forever. Being in the arms of the person you missed the most.

And on Jing Yuan's end, it all feels like a dream. Your arms wrapped around his chest, your tears staining his shoulder and the way your racing heartbeat was pressed against his own. A heart to heart, one could say, but he can't process that this is all real. You're real, and you're right here.

"Please don't go." He breathes out, one hand around your waist, the other the top of your head to pull you closer and practically burying you into his shoulder. "I'd never dream of it, never again. Don't lose me again."

taglist [ red is untaggable ( ;´꒳`;) ] : @thetwinkims @prettyliliy @fandomfan-102 @lauren1771 @kazedaka @xphantasmagoriax @himeru-soulmate @bobaducky @sunsethw4 @rebeccawinters @69scaramouche @minxky @blazervain @ye29yen @vshwood

#˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ bailu's candy stash #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #jing yuan hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader

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always-and-forever-alone · 3 months ago

Text

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[Apples only stay good for so long]

[Draco malfoy x reader]

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Summary: [in Draco's final moments with you, he can't help but remember your little moments that will stay with him forever]

TW: [no happy ending, angst, death, to late]

short, idk if I wrote him well, its been awhile sense i read for hi

every time the text is like this it is a memory, and when it's back to normal it is back to the present

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Draco stopped, no longer hearing the yelling, the explosions, the people casting out spells because it might be their last, not even the screams of others; He just heard you, yelling.

The spell struck you squarely in the chest, and your nearly lifeless body slammed against the concrete wall behind you. He was far away, and perhaps it was just his imagination, but he heard the dull thud of your body hitting the wall.

'Hey,' you said, tilting your head to the left as Draco entered the Room of Requirement. 'How long have you been down here? I didn’t see you at the Great Hall.' It had been about two weeks since he had mentioned the cabinet to you. 'Oh, I didn't even realize the time'

He sighed, "How far have you gotten?" he asked. "I think I have an idea of how to make things transfer things properly." I gave him a half-smile. He leaned down and kissed me. This wasn't common for us. I hid my face, trying to conceal the blush. We had decided not to define our relationship to avoid drawing attention to myself; we only really hung out during the night.

His feet started moving before his mind. He scoped you in his arms, not caring if he got hit, or that people could see. He didn't care that he was uncharacteristically crying. You had reached up, touching his face. He knew you had very little time but couldn't let the thought in his head; instead, he just yelled for help.

The Yule Ball was supposed to be an exciting event, but Draco felt nothing but jealousy. He watched as you danced with your friends—just friends. But the thought nagged at him: what if they got the wrong idea? He just wanted to dance with you, to show everyone that they didn’t stand a chance while he was there.

"You’re going to break that glass," Blaise said from beside me. I glanced down at the cup I was holding and set it down. "Just go ask her; you’re friends, so just play it off like that," Blaise continued. 'Fine'

No one heard, not with all that was going on. He felt your body grow heavy. "Don't close your eyes. Please.... please" he picks you up. He starts moving towards the castle; he needss to get you safe. He's walking trend into running.

It was a late night, and the air was thick with an unsettling feeling. You couldn't sleep, so you Decided that you needed some fresh air; you made your way up to the Australian tower. Sitting on the cold floor, your feet hanging over the edge. Your hands and head are pressed against the railing. You heard steps coming your way; slowly, the person slid next to you. 'I knew there was a 50/50 chance you'd show up' I wispier. 'What's wrong?' he asked in a voice; he was always tired now; it worried you.

'Just worried about the future' I wispier, moving into his side. He raped his arm around me 'This is so uncharacteristic of you,' I mutter, face laying on his chest, 'you make me act differently, it's quite annoying'

Now here he sat in the castle, while you lay on a blanket roll. You had passed away an hour ago, but he couldn't bring himself to move. Eventually, he reached out and pulled you into his arms. It made things so much more painful when he felt your cold skin. You were one of the only good things that had happened to him, one of the few things in his life that shone brighter than the darkness.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Hoped you liked it, byeee

#draco malfoy x reader #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #x reader #fanfic #x you #hp #draco #malfoy #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #D.M.#harry potter #draco x you #draco x reader #draco x y/n

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cao-the-dreamer · 23 days ago

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Fluffy the Harpy: Masterpost

"You have no idea how courageous your ancestors were, haven't you, little one?" — Solas

There she is, the baby girl, the cutest dandelion puff who fits her name down to the T, Fluffy!! Big shout-out to @greypetrel and @dungeons-and-dragon-age for indulging me with my little bird ❤️

Barely a year ago, I was repeating to myself I was just drawing a cute monster interacting with the Inquisition members for funsies. Well guess what, the monster got a story *and* you can recruit her now, how's that? (Is it a small revenge against the fact you couldn't befriend the dragons in DAI? Mmmmmaybe)

Fluffy's recruitment quest is similar to the dog in Origins, as in, saving the animal/creature will lead to a companion down the line.

The player will come across a dying harpy who begs you to take care of its egg, raise the hatchling and teach it how to fly. You can either refuse or accept the quest. The quest is completed once the egg hatches.

Well would you look at that, in addition to saving the world, you gotta take care of a baby monster now!

Note that Fluffy isn't playable for combats (she's literally a child), her role in-game is similar to the advisors'. She doesn't have a low/high approval mechanic, but she does have a personal quest like Cullen, Leliana and Josephine.

All the companions and advisors interact several times with Fluffy thorough the game. The player can either encourage these interactions and help Fluffy understand the world, or stop them so Fluffy can stay wild. Depending on the player's choices, Fluffy will either leave for the wild or stay by your side (none of these options are better or worse than the other, but your entourage will react differently according to the outcome).

In any case, Fluffy is a very lovely little bird and I love her :)

Also! Since I based her on a barn owl, I decided to test some variants too:

And I got lore about harpies in Dragon Age under the cut!

“When Ghilan’nain filled the world with monsters, harpies were just one type of creatures among many. Yet, when Andruil hunted down the terrifying spawn of Ghilan’nain, harpies evaded her swift arrows, avoided her keen eyes, mimicked voices to confuse her attentive ears; for they were cunning and cautious, unlike the rest of their monstrous siblings.

Then the time of Ghilan’nain’s monstrous children was over, at Andruil’s orders: the first day, Ghilan’nain struck down all the monsters of the air, except those she presented to Andruil as a gift; among them were harpies, for Ghilan’nain knew their tricks had greatly amused Andruil — some say she desired them as hunting companions. But when the harpies were presented to Andruil, the creatures spoke, not as an echo, but as an entity. They screamed the first word they had mastered, they screamed ‘no’, and struck their own mother to fly away from the gods’ clutches.

Wounded both in her flesh and pride, Ghilan’nain cursed her children to roam the sky aimlessly; too clever to live among other animals, too feral to cohabit with the elves, nowhere would they ever belong. They would gnaw on the elves’ bones, and the elves would feast on their flesh.

And so were the harpies cast out, disgraced children of Ghilan’nain, hiding away with only hunger as their companion in loneliness.”

— The creation of harpies, told by hahren Da’Renan

Harpies were indeed created by Ghilan'nain and later rebelled against her, hence why Solas calls them courageous. They are feared due to their appearance and capabilities, and they have been instances where a flock of harpies have eaten people, but it is more of a last resort during difficult times. Meat/fish is a huge part of their diet though.

Harpies are usually secretive, but there are some rare cases of them befriending people and living peacefully with them.

In general, harpies live up to 40 years in the wild; the chicks reach their maturity between 6 and 8 years old.

The line on their cheeks is actually the continuation of their mouth: they can open it wide enough to swallow larger preys.

#dragon age #my art #monster #fluffy the harpy

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alliskit · 17 days ago

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The Grand Design.

Songs of the chapter (the ch. is long and this album is fantastic):

On AO3.

CH. 17: On The Road Again.

- Traveling - Wyll and Halsin - Gale's Dumb Prophecy - Durge's Gift

Astarion POV -

Our camp and the grove transformed into a hive of bees, not literally. It seemed everyone was busy with something all morning as we prepared to head off to Moonrise and Baldur's Gate. To say I loathed the idea of returning to that cursed city was an understatement, but it seemed inevitable. I didn't hope for much in the last two centuries, but I was throwing my lot in with the tadpole to keep Cazador out of my head as we crept closer.

Lae'zel was the only one parading after Halsin and Zevlor, demanding the parties be split. She swore to Tu'narath and back that we wouldn't need to see Moorise if we just stopped to use the Zaith'isk. Halsin was sure that if he, chosen of Silvanus, couldn't unwrap the magical tadpole in her head without killing her, the Zaith'isk sure wouldn't. She thought he was a moron. I believed both of them were right in their own ways.

No one, besides possibly Shadowheart, noticed Abbi and I as we returned to camp. Abbi had spent the time walking back regaling the 'prophecy' the wizard had shared with her. I may have underestimated the wizard's charm. He seemed to be getting a little courageous and a little dangerous. A magical bond? It was ominous, but I have always been one to enjoy a good drama. A few times that morning, I caught Gale pining like one does after the ghost of their beloved.

As I watched Abbi, much like Gale - to my shame, I felt an ache I thought I had mastered. An ache that taught me to never pursue marks I wanted, marks that allowed me to pretend I wasn't trapped, marks whom I'd regret dooming. This time, I hadn't doomed her per se, but it did feel as if she, like the others, was just another thing to be taken from me. Like a ring found in a sewer that glittered enough on my hand that Master noticed. Noticed enough to insult me, then to wear it himself once I handed it over, just to show me how nothing I wanted would ever be mine. This new sparkling ring would eventually be worn by another, like all the others.

I thumbed the note in my pocket from Durge I'd found in my tent. Speaking of what wasn't truly mine, he left a bottle of red, my kind of red, enchanted to refill with a note that said it would "come another two times" for me as he did. He hoped it would remind me of all he has to offer. There was an addendum stating he did this so I wouldn't have to go searching for another on our way to Moonrise and if I desired something 'fresh', all I would have to do is ask.

I couldn't remember the last time I received a gift, let alone a note. Even a lewd one. Granted all of my marks in the last decade had all been slaughtered for the appetites of Cazador, so even having a living lover was new to me.

I had posed it as simply a good time, a casual encounter. I had been leading us up to this moment for the last few weeks. He was the strongest in the group and if another 'accident' were to happen like Abbi's, then I would need a defender. Let alone someone who could defend me from Cazador or other threats. An image of his white eyes as he struck at us in Gut's quarters flashed across my mind. I may have led him to my bed to protect myself from him as well. Hopefully, his ire would be focused entirely elsewhere and I would never find myself at the whims of whatever possessed him.

Though, I realized as I laid next to Abbi in front of my tent, I didn't necessarily need or want Durge's protection anymore. Even if his blood was flowing in my dry veins. It was an odd medley of emotions I shared for the two of them. My physical body craved Durge, and yet, I longed for Abigail's voice, her presence. Last night felt like something out of a dream having been able to indulge both. When I saw her being led off by the druid, something inside of me sank. I realized, like the sunlight, she was reserved for the living. I was destined for the dark. Durge seemed to dance with death as I did, and he was still there, not wandered off. I took the sign to return to my original plans and made my decision.

I still wondered what it would have been to wait. To have her by choice, instead of internal force. To have her give all of herself to me without coercion. It felt as if the gods were once again ripping the cherished toys from my hands, even if I was the one who had dropped them.

I took a long pull at my bottle of blood. It was delicious. I reminisced on last night again. Durge seemed to respond rather sweetly to pain. I wondered if my marks were still on the soft side of his thigh.

I watched Abbi secure Sylas' pack again. He looked rather slender for a boy his age. His fight and pluck seemed to make up for whatever was lost. I refused to show it, but I rather liked the child. He was, truly, his mother's son.

"No, I just told you, I'm not holding yours and mine... I know it's not heavy, I packed it. And it's enchanted. You're just not used to hauling something around because daddy would do it... If you had actually started school, you would have to wear a backpack... No, you can't ask Halsin. I said no!" I watched him run off ahead to find the druid as his mother huffed. Why mortals wanted several of these was beyond me.

Karlach hopped up next to me, cheerier than usual thanks to Dammon the smith. In a serendipitous turn of events, he had been an infernal mechanic in the Hells. She had a new layer of infernal metal replaced and claimed it had boosted her up, but not cooled her down. Despite her dashed hopes of touching people after ten long years, she seemed surprisingly chipper. I watched the glow of her chest for a moment.

"Copper for your thoughts? Seems you were lost there for a moment."

I quickly looked elsewhere. She had caught me staring at her. "It's nothing. I was simply pondering your heart."

"Oh, yeah? What about it?" she flashed a toothy grin.

I lifted a small one in return, "There were times I would've been thrilled if everyone who put their hands on me burst into flames."

Her smirk was gone, just a pitying stare. "It's a blessing and a curse."

I watched her carefully.

"I would trade you if I could."

I snorted a laugh, "At this point, I would be on the worse end of the deal."

"Ha!" she cackled. It was loud and several others looked back at us. She made a sheepish look. Then lowered, "Got someone you want to burn with lust instead, Astarion?"

I sent her a glare that had no bite. "Maybe."

A knowing smile lit up her face. "Heard you and the Chief were spotted coming back to camp this morning."

I shrugged, feigning apathy. "People talk a lot. Don't believe everything you hear."

"Right..." she drawled. "Keep your secrets, Fangs. You've earned some."

I wasn't expecting the pang through my dead heart. I thanked her with a small, but sincere grin.

I glanced up to see Gale, once again, pining. He didn't even notice me as I sauntered up next to him.

"Wizard."

He startled, "Oh, Astarion. I didn't see you there. How might I be of help?"

"I'm quite alright, but you don't seem to be. How is your sad, hopeless pining going?"

He eyed me suspiciously. "There is no pining. It's been well past a year since Mystra cast me aside. It is far more of a self-pity at this point, though hopeless, I am not."

I gave him a syrupy grin, "Oh, my dear wizard, I wasn't speaking about Mystra."

His face lit up with shock and confusion.

"I still stand by it being hopeless."

He snarled a little, the testy dog. His voice dropped to harsh whispers, "There's more hope for me than you, I think." His snarl gave way to a nasty smirk, "Nay, I know."

I rolled my eyes, "You know, divination is notably unreliable. Be careful to take anything you learn at face value. Fates can change, as you well know."

His jaw ticked. "I guess I never told her what I said was in confidence, but I'll let you keep it. You can be witness to just how true divination can be."

I bumped his elbow, laughing. "I'll believe it when I see it." I winked at him as I stepped up past him and next to his prophesied.

"You know he's been staring at the back of your head all day."

She shook her head. "It's like I can feel him. If I had a tadpole, I know he'd be trying to dig in my head. I really, really hope he hasn't taken Detect Thoughts." She smiled suddenly, "Actually, if he did, he would probably stop staring."

"Anything particularly interesting going on in there?" I tapped her temple. She snapped narrow eyes at me, but her lips teased at the corners. I lowered mine to her ear, "We could indulge in a little thought detection. It was quite fun digging around in there yesterday."

We had nearly kissed several times only yesterday. I saved her life twice only yesterday. I had licked blood from her neck and face only yesterday.

I could almost taste the tang of the hobgoblin's blood mixed with her sweat. Almost feel her pulse vibrating on my tongue. Almost scent her need as she panted, pulling me closer.

We had agreed to be simply friends while spending the night in each other's arms only yesterday.

"Speaking of digging around in my head, you never told me what you saw?" she said pulling me back.

I hummed, remembering the moment when we both saw the invisible auras around us. She had been a vision. A goddess among the outer planes.

"On second thought, it would probably be better if we just talked," I added quickly.

She leaned in, eyes teasing, "Got something to hide?"

"I think I'm entitled to some secrets." I should have properly thanked Karlach.

Abbi shrugged, "Ditto. Guess you'll have to figure out another way to get them out of me."

"Is that a challenge?" I hoped she noticed my fangs as I smiled at her.

Her eyes went straight to my mouth, her face slacking a little as her breath and heartbeat hitched slightly. This was going to be a long journey. We were supposedly friends and I highly enjoyed it, yet couldn't comprehend it. What did it even mean to be 'friends' with her? Was I even friends with the others? I would be remiss to consider Durge simply a friend.

I spotted his horned head a ways up in the large group. He seemed to be chatting with the tiefling wizard, Rolan. I spotted another large body, alongside Zevlor, making their way back toward us.

"Did Sylas try to pawn off his pack on you?" Abbi teased as Halsin turned to walk beside us.

"I believe he may have gotten side tracked by the other children. They have been pretending to scout ahead, returning every several minutes with 'information'. We are, finally, almost to Moonhaven." The druid sighed. We were making slow progress given our group's size.

"That's good news, right? Any scout report on goblins?" she asked.

The elf shook his head. "They seemed to have dispersed like I'd hoped."

He made the plans then failed to enact them. We had to clean up the mess. Abbi said he had complained about not being suited as the Archdruid, I could understand why. He still seemed to embody authority, though. He wasn't very good at giving up being in charge.

"Is it nice just being one of the crew instead of captain?" she asked as if she read my mind.

He beamed down at her, "Be careful of the one who wants that kind of position, I say. I would much rather be out here among the Oak Father's creations."

I rolled my eyes. Of course he would, though when he said it, his eyes didn't seem all that interested in the trees we were passing. His scent didn't either.

Abbi didn't seem to notice it. "Who's going to replace you?"

"I sent word to an old friend, Francesca of the High Forest. She will have a new set of eyes, an unbiased view. I spent more time keeping the peace than enjoying it. I won't miss it." He smiled to himself. "Onto new adventures," he said smiling at Abbi again.

The oaf was less subtle than Gale. An image of Halsin instead of Durge came to mind. I pushed it away when I noticed his eyes were on me. I made the same face he had at Abbi moments ago. His eyes flashed over my face. A kind, but cursory smile replaced it.

Zevlor coughed. "Abigail, I hate to ask, but I noticed you are without my sword I gifted you. Is it in your bag by chance?" he asked.

Abigail's face turned pink. I had even forgotten about the blade I'd mocked her about wielding.

A large white body appeared next to me. Durge had fallen back to join us. "I forgot to mention that I grabbed it, Abbi. It was with the rest of our weapons on the hag's porch. We have just been a little busy the last several days."

She put a hand to her chest, heaving. "Thank god. I'm sorry, Zevlor. I promise to keep an eye on it and put it in my pack."

"Your weapons training will begin tonight," Lae'zel ordered from behind us. Abbi flipped her head around. "I saw what happened at the temple. I will no longer allow you to be helpless. Dror would have been right to kill you, if not for Astarion."

Abbi snapped. "Why? Because you think I was weak?"

"Yes. If you had been another githyanki, I would have punished you with death myself. But, we are not at my creche and you have an offspring."

Abbi guffawed, "Wow, thanks. I thought we were friends."

"You're welcome. I will not allow my friends to stay weak, so I will train you to be otherwise."

Abbi looked right at me, confused and irritated by Lae'zel's confession. My brows spoke my response.

"I think we should include a few battle magic lessons with that as well," Durge added.

"What? Why?" she asked.

"I came back here to tell you I saw your son doing magic with his girlfriend and to ask you about it."

She mouthed 'oh'.

We all looked at her for an answer. Sylas could do magic? I peeked ahead to see if I could spot the small scoundrel's brown waves. He was too small among the many tieflings. I looked back over at Abbi. A shoulder bumped mine. I looked over to notice Gale had come in closer at the mention of magic.

"So, apparently, Sylas can essentially siphon magic? Arabella said that when they held hands, her magic felt turned off - as we know. Then, she said she felt a pull which results in them connecting via her magic somehow."

"Wait, Arabella has magic?" Gale interjected.

"Since she stole the idol of Silvanus, according to her, at least," Halsin added.

"Wait, explain that again," Gale asked.

Abbi looked at a loss, "Maybe we should get Sylas and Arabella to show us when we make camp." The group ahead had come to a stop. Familiar stone walls stood before us.

Zevlor stepped up, "Let's scan Moonhaven for goblins or others before we make camp. Would you all assist since you've been here before?" We all agreed, following behind Zevlor as several other armed tieflings followed suit.

The village, as Halsin predicted, was empty. The tieflings and the rest of us made up a large group, so those from the Nautiloid made camp at the back of the village in and around an old barn.

I could smell the large spit fire they were setting up out near the windmill where we had saved the gnome. I wondered if he ever found his friend.

"Do you still have it?" I heard whispered. It was Shadowheart speaking to Abbi as she finished setting up her tent. It hadn't felt intentional, but we had set up on either side of the barn rather than next to each other. Abbi had set up in a corner with Shadowheart next to her. Abbi turned and reached into her pack. She looked back to nod. They must have been talking about the artifact. Lae'zel hadn't stolen it. She probably refused, believing Abbi would simply relinquish it the next time it was requested. Shadowheart must have kept from taking it due to wanting to keep on Abbi's good side. Otherwise, she would have likely tried by now. I wondered if she had and it rejected her again.

Then, I wondered what would happen if I took it. If it would lead to the bloody cat fight that had been building up between the gith and cleric. I was willing to be the catalyst. They needed to hash it out. Violence was an easy and delightful way to settle a conflict.

It was an odd thing. What protected our group refused to leave the only one of us without a tadpole. Abbi seemed to believe she was a minor player in this stage show. I was beginning to wonder if she might not be the main character.

Abbi stood at the doorway, "Okay, if any of you guys want to join, I'm going to head up to the camp fire. I think Asharak and Dammon are grilling for us." Karlach, Shadowheart, and Gale followed after her while the rest of us stayed back to lounge or finish setting up.

I heard his loud steps all the way across the barn as he came up behind me, "Can I speak with you, Astarion?" I spun around with a smile full of teeth, as I took in our dear illiterate warlock.

"You may speak, Blade."

He blinked at me, "I heard about you and Abbi. You would think you'd be more careful after hurting her once, Astarion. We all know you'll only succeed in doing it again, unless you stay away from her."

I narrowed my eyes at him, squaring my shoulders to match his. His youthful heart was beating like a rabbit's. He smelled like nerves and a secret flask of mermaid whiskey. "Don't tell me you're pining after her as well? I do love a gladiator fight."

"I'm far from surprised you love the sight of gore. But, no, I'm not pining, as you say. Protecting, sure. You are insufferably randy. You play too much with your food. I won't let Abigail fall prey to your vampiric enthrallment only to end up heartbroken or worse. We need her, so don't ruin that."

I wanted to shout at him for how ignorant he was. How little he knew. I wanted to force the image of Abigail's tear streaked face as she told me she only saw me as some undead replacement through our tadpole connection. Another part of me wanted to mock him, show him how I ravished her in the hag's den then had her agreeing to more only last night. If anyone was under some cursed enthrallment, it was me, and it was something I would gladly be released from.

Instead I gave him a smug look, one that told him he would have to try harder to burn off my skin. "Oh, Blade, you are too kind. To think I was simply randy, but to be insufferably randy is too giving. And I think we both know she cannot and never will be food. If you want to offer your whiskey soaked veins, I wouldn't mind something to take the edge off."

He grit his teeth behind his tight lips, then took a long breath through his nose, attempting to calm. "It's like everyone has forgotten what you truly are. You have a heart of ice and I just don't want her to slip."

"If you're so worried, get her a pair of skates. Though, at this point, she could teach you a thing or two about not stepping out onto thin ice without testing it first." I checked my nail beds, "To think I should take warnings from someone who doesn't know how to read them. If you did, you'd likely not be strapped eternally to a devil."

My ears rang. Pain reverberated through my upper jaw and behind my eyes. I hadn't been hit this hard since... Well, Abbi, but it was Wyll's fist making impact at my temple and not the blunt end of a weapon. He was much stronger than I had assumed. I couldn't help the yelp that escaped.

"Fuck you, Astarion," he said before he stomped out of the barn. I stuffed the rage coursing through me as it begged me to rip through his neck as he tried to fight me off. The monster hunter who had no idea how to hunt vampires. I could show him just how much of a monster I truly was.

I delicately tapped the place I had been hit and winced at the sharp reply. It was going to take the rest of the night to heal if I didn't toss back a few potions. My left cheekbone throbbed.

I felt a strong hand on my shoulder. My vision was blurred by the pain from the blow. "Not now, Durge. I'll deal with it," I snapped.

"One day, you may not have a tongue to use as a shield," a deep songful voice replied. "Te curo."

I sucked an involuntary breath as the spell soaked beneath my skin. I forced myself to look at the druid. He watched me with something akin to worry or maybe some sort of paternal care.

"Then I'll just have to use my claws and teeth instead. Though, I'd prefer not to be seen as some feral monster. But, if they give me no choice, I will become what they see in me."

Halsin's eyes did not stray. They bore into me. It felt as if I were being seen, as I was, for the first time. It felt very similar to Abbi, but this was much more intense.

I felt bare. I wanted to lash out at him, be the blood hungry terror I was created to be. And yet, I wanted to be cradled in his arms, weak and fragile, floating in peace. It was unsettling. I turned away when I thought his gaze might unmake me if I didn't.

"Abbi told me you two weren't partnered, yet she left me upon a hill to be at your side. I can sense it wasn't sexual. She desires your company. Wyll did not have a right to ask that of you. She seems a great judge of character and she trusts you. I think that alone motivates you to keep it. So, I will trust you as well. Druids are supposed to abhor anything undead and unnatural, but I don't see death in you. You seem the antithesis of it."

At some point, I stopped breathing. I had to suck in a creaking breath to have air to reply. It was humiliating, as if mocking his assessment. "I don't need your sympathy, but... Thank you." I didn't know what else to say as he patted my shoulder before stepping out into the night. My eyes trailed after his large figure. It took all of my control to keep from running after him, begging to look at me once more.

[Halsin note: Your words echoed through me. It was a feeling I knew too well. I felt I was looking into myself as you spoke. If you had run after me, I would have given you anything you needed.]

Thanks to Durge's generous gift, I didn't need to physically participate at dinner. I stayed back to nurse my pride more than any physical wound. It sounded like a second round of last night's party. I finally made my way out as the food was finished and wine put away, some making their way back to bed rolls in anticipation of a long day tomorrow.

"Alright, are we going to get a demonstration of this newly acquired magic?" Gale asked, standing next to Abbi and a few of the others.

The children had sectioned off into the old schoolhouse down the hill, so Abbi led our group to meet them. They had started their own small fire pit with some old fallen beams and pieces of chairs.

Abbi smiled around as she stood before the campfire. "Sylas, Arabella, you guys want to put on a little magic show for our friends?"

They both looked nervous.

"Sure," Arabella finally replied. They stood up together, grasping hands. "What do you want us to do?"

Gale stepped forward, "Try something easy like Dancing Lights."

Arabella smirked proudly, "Oh, we can do" she started.

"You can increase in difficulty as you show your ability," Gale interrupted.

I raised a brow back at Abbi, but she didn't seem bothered by Gale's sudden authoritarian attitude.

Arabella and Sylas nodded.

"Do you know how to cast the cantrip?" Gale asked, hands on his hips.

"Uhm, well, can you show us first?" she replied meekly.

Gale huffed, "Fiat Lux." A small gathering of glittering floating stars hung before him. "Repeat what I just said, then I'll show you the physical component."

"Fiat Lux," they said at the same time. It was close enough. Close enough that Dancing Lights appeared just like Gale’s.

"Did you both mean to do that?" Gale inquired. "You didn't even use any physical component."

"We did what you said," Sylas argued.

"The concern, Sylas, is over your ability to produce the cantrip on instinct rather than effort." Gale eyed the two kids who were looking confused. "I simply required you to repeat the words not the actual action. Let's try it again, but with a new cantrip."

The kids nodded.

"Are you saying that Bells and Sy can cast without trying?" Mol spoke up. "Isn't that like a big deal or something?"

"Yes, it means they could cast a dangerous spell on accident," Gale said seriously, but Mol turned as a wicked grin lit up her face.

"No, Mol, I already told you," Arabella responded as Mol watched her. Clearly the group's leader had a plan in the works.

"Do I even want to know what that is about?" Gale asked as he looked around the group of children.

No one answered him. Abbi stifled a snicker. I licked my teeth, these miscreants were up to something. Good for them.

Gale held up his hands, "No matter. Try Sol Invictus." Gale spoke the words, flipping his palm face up, a small blue flame appearing. "Say just the words first."

"Soul Invittis" said Sylas.

"Sol Invictus" said Arabella at the same time.

Blue flames engulfed the hands they weren't holding.

The children erupted.

"He didn't even say it right!" Mattis called out, pointing at Sylas, looking back at a very concerned and confused Gale.

The kids were all talking over each other. Arabella was yelling at Mol. Sylas was watching his hand in confusion.

"Alright, alright, you lot, calm down!" Wyll called out.

Everyone shut up. Someone had clearly earned their right to be heard. Wyll spotted me staring at him and flashed to where his fist hit my face, leering at where no mark stood thanks to Halsin. He shook his head slightly and looked back to the kids.

"Let's take this up to the bigger fire," Abbi interjected. Everyone turned to follow her out.

Once again, we were up at the windmill. At this point, I felt like I was following around a mob just for the entertainment. Most of the tieflings had gone to bed.

Gale stood near the fire with his hands on his waist, "Why don't you both just show me what you've been able to do so far. It seems when connected, your abilities, Arabella, may be enhanced somehow by Sylas."

Arabella gave Sylas a look I couldn't quite name, somewhere between admiration and concern. A look one might give someone they cared for very much. A look I had seen on pairs of amber and green-blue eyes as they looked at me.

I shut the image down deep.

Sylas seemed locked into some silent conversation or connection with Arabella. A tingle spread around the small area. Some invisible static prickled along my skin. Then, dancing lights exploded everywhere, floating about us like stars.

Even Gale gasped.

Shadowheart was looking around lost in thought. Durge was all teeth and joy. Wyll was grinning, hands out as if standing in desert rain. Halsin placed a hand between Abbi's shoulder blades remarking on the beauty her son was capable of. Only Lae'zel seemed undeterred.

"Can you do this too, Abbi?" Karlach asked as she spun around brushing her fingertips through the lights.

"I..." Abbi was caught up in the sight. "I'm not sure. Maybe, this gift is unique to Sylas."

"Only one way to find out," Durge added smiling as he made his way to Abbi. He held out his hand to her, as one does when offering a dance. She huffed a laugh, smiling brightly in return.

Seeing my two lovers flirting, even if I'd seen it before, churned something in me. Something dark, something vampiric. Something I quickly leashed before it took a hold of my faculties.

"Alright, how do we do this?" Durge called out to Arabella and Sylas. The Dancing Lights dimmed out when they released their hands, making their way over to Durge and Abbi.

"Do you feel anything right now?" Arabella asked looking up at Durge's large figure.

He shook his head, "Well, her hand, if that counts."

Arabella laughed, then turned to nod at Sylas. Sylas took charge, "Okay, mom, you need to think about Durge and think about doing magic. You're gonna feel tingly inside and then you can feel the magic. Then, you guys can think of what you wanna do and do it." He reminded me so much of his mother, I couldn't keep the smirk from my face.

Abbi scrunched hers at me curiously, then her eyes went back to her son.

"Sounds easy enough," Durge replied. "Do we close our eyes?"

"Sure," Sylas shrugged.

The two adults closed their eyes. Nothing happened for a few moments. The rest of us looked around oddly at one another.

Then, Abbi gasped as Durge flashed to her, with a whispered, "What in the hells?"

The whole open area around the windmill became the night sky. This was no longer a collection of Dancing Lights, but a miniature of the stars themselves floating about in the open space.

Everyone went quiet, save a few 'ohs' and 'ahs' from the children.

A very particular heartbeat ticked up. I turned my focus back to her. She was panting softly, eyes lost upon her creation in awe. There was no chance this was Durge's idea. This was entirely Abigail, her aura brought to light.

"This..." Gale started. "Isn't possible..." His head began to flick around, taking in the stars. I wondered if he could see it, as I could. It reminded me of my conversation with Abbi only last night.

"These are the constellations over Toril," Lae'zel added proudly. "How does the Earth human know them?"

"She doesn't, but I do," Durge added. "The spreading them out like this, though, was Abbi's idea."

"A beautiful take on Dancing Lights, if one could even call it such," Gale smiled.

Sylas hugged his mother, "This is so pretty, Mommy. Can you show us how to do it?"

Durge laughed lightly, "When either of you studies the star systems here on Toril, then you could try it."

Arabella and Sylas looked momentarily disappointed. I tipped my head. I couldn't quite comprehend how Durge couldn't remember who he even was, why he was possessed, and where he even lived, yet remembered the constellations as if he had studied them closely. There was a time I had considered he might be lying about forgetting, but he hadn't shown any reason to mistrust him. He had even apologized about his attack at the temple. It seemed genuine. Now, I wasn't so sure.

I watched him hold Abbi's hand for another moment. I remembered that first campfire when he admitted to his violent urges, thoroughly spooking her. I felt the note in my pocket again as an unfamiliar form of a very familiar feeling began to grow within me.

Fear. It was a base instinct at this point. It kept me alive, not that I would ever have admitted it to anyone. I felt fear as I watched Durge watch Abbi. I had slept with him to keep myself safe and it had felt safer than I had anticipated. As I etched her amazed face in my mind, I realized, keeping him close to me might, also, keep her safe. Until I could ascertain his trustworthiness.

They looked at each other, then released hands. The stars blinked out. The children complained.

"I think you all should pull out some bedrolls," Zevlor ordered. "We have a long journey ahead and I don't want to hear complaints all the way to Baldur's Gate about you being tired."

I watched the child leader, Mol, roll her eyes, but she headed toward the stairs. "Are you coming or not?" she yelled back to the others. They descended the stairs like ducklings after their mother. All except Arabella and Sylas. Arabella was being led off by her own parents while Sylas was begging his mother to go sleep next to his friends. Lucky Sylas, she agreed. It was probably a small boy's dream to be camping with his friends.

For the first time in a long while, I wished I could remember myself at his age. Rather, I wished I could remember near anything from my youth. Another feeling to push down next to the rest.

After the children left, Gale cleared his throat. With sultry gleam in his eyes, he held out his hand, "Abigail, would you do me the honors. I'd like to show you something truly magical."

Durge crossed his arms, "I'm a fucking sorcerer, you know. I'd say what we just did was pretty magical," Durge argued.

"I didn't say it in offense to your abilities, Durge," Gale apologized.

"You were attempting to flirt," Lae'zel said blatantly. Snickers and laughs sounded. Even a corner of my mouth lifted. I could have kissed the gith for Gale's heated face. He pushed air through his nose, attempting to calm the embarrassment.

"Fine, Gale, let's see what an archmage can do," Abbi replied making her way to the wizard.

The same feeling I had when she smiled, accepting Durge's open palm, surged again. Instead of completely pushing it back within myself, I pulled back into the shadows along the edges and crept nearer to the couple. If Gale did anything suspicious I would show him how little his prophecies meant to me.

Her hand slipped into his as he took her in with a look of admiration. He lifted their conjoined hands, making a show of lacing his fingers with hers as she gave him a curious look.

"Tell me what you just did with Durge," Gale said quietly to Abbi.

"It was... weird. Very similar to pushing myself into someone's head with Detect Thoughts, but I just imagined pushing through a door that leads to their magic. Then, it flows into me like opening a hose pipe."

He nodded, "How did you decide to do the stars?"

"It felt like we were in there together. Images came to mind until we agreed, simultaneously. Then, they appeared." She looked over at Durge. It was minuscule, but her mouth tipped down for a second as she considered our dragonborn. Then, she went back to the wizard.

"That sounds quite similar to our tadpole connection," Gale added. "Are you ready?"

She nodded. Her eyes closed, but he stayed watching her as a groom watches their new bride. I wanted to claw the look from his face. It was disgusting.

Then, the whole world went black.

It felt as if my veins were filled with poison. A black mass of darkest weave was forcing itself into my chest. Its hunger alone was going to rip a hole right through me. The veins were black under my skin. The book fell from my hands and I vomited all over the carpet. Worst of all, I could feel the magic that had been the very essence of me fade out like dead stars. I could do nothing, but curl up in the mess I'd made and wait to die.

I felt the stone under my hands first, as reality lit before my eyes. All of my companions were on their knees like me. All but Abigail and Halsin. Halsin watched on in scared confusion, while Abigail...

Her hand was still gripping Gale's as he moaned, his eyes pinched in pain, the tattoo glowing on his chest and up his face. She stood stalwart, her eyes glowing the same bright purple. A phantom crown with three spires rested upon her head.

Gale ripped his hand from hers, gasping in breath. The connection with the rest of us snapped. Abbi shook her head as if waking from a dream, the spectral crown gone.

"What in the hells just happened, Gale?!" Karlach called out.

His eyes flashed around at us, the firelight highlighting his fear. He swallowed, "I... I guess it would be unconscionable of me to remain silent."

The rest of us had returned to standing and were now glaring down at the wizard's guilt laden face.

"Abbi, what... What did you see?" he asked fearfully.

She watched him with concern, "I didn't see anything, but I felt your magic. It's dark, mixed around with light. I don't know how to describe it. I felt more power than I did with Durge." She looked around with a flash of confusion.

I stepped back out into the light. Her confusion abated. She had been looking for me. Her heart calmed as we held each other with our eyes.

"I can still feel it." She stretched out a hand, "Fiat Lux." Regular Dancing Lights appeared before her.

We all watched in rapt amazement. Abbi had magic. She just had to steal it from Gale.

"Could you still feel it after letting go of me?" Durge questioned.

She shook her head. Gale's prophesied bond danced before us in swirling light. Damn the wizard and his damn divination.

"That still does not explain why what we saw," Lae'zel added, arms crossed as she glared down at Gale who was still kneeling.

His fear smelled like a prey before wolves. He leaned onto his hands, eyes lost as he gazed at the floor. "Mystra have mercy on us all," he whispered. Then, he looked around at the group.

"You have to know who I was - really am," he sighed, shaking his head. "A shadow of what I was." He pushed himself to standing. "I am... was a wizard prodigy. From an early age I could not only control the weave, but compose it. It earned me the attentions of the mother of magic herself."

"Mystra," Shadowheart dripped.

His eyes narrowed at her in a small glare, "She revealed herself to me and became my teacher." His eyes went back to the rest of the group, "In time, she became not just my teacher, but my muse, and even my lover." He said the last part with a small tug on his lips.

"You're telling us you bedded a goddess?" Karlach asked, doubtful.

His small grin grew in full, "Oh yes, we enjoyed each other's company, body, mind, and soul." The smug look was short-lived as his face fell in remembrance, "But I desired more. No matter how powerful mortal wizards can become, we never touch more than the surface of the weave. There are boundaries she doesn't let us cross, even though every time I was with her..."

"With her..." Durge teased.

The proud look was back as Gale continued, "I stood at the precipice of what lay beyond." And again, his face fell, indicating another nasty turn in the plot. "I sought to... cross her boundaries."

"You believed yourself wiser than your goddess. You are more of a fool than I thought," Lae'zel chided.

Something in Gale steeled at the barb. "I tried to convince her. I pleaded. I only wished to serve her better. But, she only smiled and told me to be content with my lot. So, I sought to prove my worth instead."

"You shared a bed with a goddess and weren't satisfied?" I mocked.

He glared at me for a moment, then continued, "Now we come to the crux of my folly. I take it, most of you have probably heard of Karsus?"

Most of us nodded. There was barely a soul on the face of Toril that hadn’t heard of the unfortunate history of Netheril and 'the child who would be a god'. Abbi watched Gale with twisted brows. She wouldn't know, though.

"For your sake, Abbi, I will catch you up. A long time ago on Toril, Karsus was, essentially, the king of the mighty empire of Netheril. His kingdom floated high above the surface of the planet, risen to the skies by his magic. The gist of it was that he sought to usurp the goddess of magic so he could become a god himself. He almost managed, but then this entire empire came crashing down around him as he was turned to stone." An awe glimmered in his eyes as he continued, "The magic unleashed that day was phenomenal. Roiling like the chaos that out dates creation. The weave itself fractured and shattered. It seemed that all magic was lost to the mortal realms until Mystra returned. It returned in a different way, sooner, but that's a story for another time. But, return she did. She restored the true weave. Or so I thought, until I learned of a Netherese tome alleged to have a missing piece of what shattered that day." He sighed, "I thought I could return this missing piece to her, sure that in returning this piece of raw power draped in love, she might take me into her forbidden domains."

"So your plan was akin to dropping a bucket of water in the ocean. Brilliant," Shadowheart slated.

I snorted. She wasn't wrong. He must have had a magical head the size of Faerun to think he was worthy enough.

"I was mistaken," he said pitifully. "I found the fabled book and took it into my study, as for what happened next... Well, you all were witnesses. Thankfully, the fragment wasn't enough to kill me outright, but it was only the beginning." He turned and face Abbi, "This Netherese blight or orb, rather, is curled up in my chest. And it needs to be fed. As long as I'm absorbing traces of weave from potent sources or anything I can get my hands on, it helps stabilize it. But, if it ever destabilized..." His eyes zoned out as he finished the thought in his head.

"Go on..." I said, waving a hand.

"I don't think I want to hear this," Karlach added.

"You will die," Abbi finally said.

His eyes shot to hers, "Rather worse, actually. I will erupt. Given my study of Netherese magic, my fragment could level a city the size of Waterdeep."

A few gasps sounded in the group. Most stood watching Gale in small horror.

"You thrice-damned rotten bastard," Lae'zel growled. "You've been the greatest threat to us this whole time."

Abbi turned to Lae'zel, an internal debate ensuing as other debates raged around us.

"This Netherese jack-in-the-box should be a blip on the horizon by now," I snapped. Abbi gave me a concerned look. I shrugged. I didn't know if I really believed it, but I liked adding to the chaos.

Karlach took offense anyway, "If having dangerous objects stuck in your chest is where you draw the line, then Gale and I both have to go."

"At least you were up front about it. Who'd keep secrets like that from his friends?"

"You did," Wyll spat in my direction. "And you are the only one who has almost killed one of us."

I crossed my arms, "You seemed to have conveniently forgotten being attacked by Durge, but I'm the dangerous one."

"That was from the tadpole and you know it!"

I flashed an eyebrow at Durge, but he simply watched on warily.

"Enough!" Abigail yelled. Everyone quieted. She turned to Gale, "Speaking of the tadpole taking over, did you ever consider what would happen if it did that to you?"

Gale flashed around. "My plan was to head into the Underdark and hopefully find a mindflayer colony. Then, I'd take some nightshade and await my fate."

"That doesn't account for spontaneous combustion, though," Abbi added.

"I don't believe I would spontaneously combust, from what I've studied. Though, that was before the tadpole."

Abbi shook her head.

"I understand if this feels like a betrayal, but I very much doubt you would have even considered having me around if I'd dropped this upon you earlier," he added.

"Like a bomb," Abbi said under her breath, shaking her head.

Gale turned and gave her a sad look. He watched her like it was the last time he would see her. "Say the word and we'll part ways. You were the one to ask me to join you. I'll leave it to you to make the decision."

Abbi stood watching him with her arms crossed. "Fuck," she hissed after a moment. "You can't leave."

A series of 'whats' and sighs echoed through the group.

"I just figured out I can cast magic and he trained under the goddess of it. And when I siphon from him, I can cast normally. So, I need him, even if you don't."

Eyes rolled, but the merciful ruling had passed. The wizard would remain with us until he felt he would pose too much of a threat. Much to my own chagrin. This would have been the perfect reason for Abbi to cast him and his obscene prophecies aside. Yet, it seemed they were falling into place before my eyes.

"Thank you." He grabbed her hand, coming in close, his eyes boring into hers, "You really are a soul that steels my own." It was said quietly among the voices around the campfire, but I heard it loud and clear.

I would need to bite my nails off again since they seemed to have grown into claws in the last several minutes.

I had laid in my tent for what felt like hours. No trance or sleep coming to comfort me. I had lain there listening to her heartbeat across the barn, debating whether to sneak in to join her. It seemed when I spent the night with her, I would sleep, fitfully and without dreams. As if I were well and truly dead. After today, I dearly needed to black out. Instead I took a walk.

The night was balmy, as most nights near the end of the summer months. Temperature didn't affect me as it did mortals. I could walk through the snow bared to the world and be fine. My body, like a lizard, adjusted to match the temperatures of my atmosphere. I guess it was less like a lizard and more like a dead body. I could feel the temperature around me, even think it was cold or warm depending on whether I was standing before a fire or in a cold rain, but in several minutes I would no longer feel the heat or cold of the air.

Though, if I were curled up next to a body, like Abbi's, I would feel her warmth all night.

I was about to turn back to finally just join her when Durge snuck past the gate leading out of Moonhaven. I stood before the barn doors, waiting for him to notice me.

"Oh, Astarion. What are you doing up?" He paused, "Wait, do you even sleep as a vampire?"

I crossed my arms, "Yes, I do. Not very much, though."

He nodded. "Well, actually, I was going to show you tomorrow morning, but since you're here, I might as well." He pulled something glowing faintly from his pants' pocket. It was a large purple gem.

"That spooky book you found had that hole in the front and this thing has the same glow as the eyes on it. Maybe, it'll fit?" he said holding the gem out to me.

I took it watching him carefully, "Thank you. Uhm... Where did you find it?"

He rubbed the back of his neck bashfully, "I - well - I took a walk and ended up in some caves. There were some weird spiders down there. Took care of them though. Kind of. There was a really big one in a big hole, so I left that one. But, I did find that thing and..." He shrugged, "Thought of you." His eyes watched mine. He was nervous, as one is before an affection. His heart was thumping steadily as it always did, but his face and body spoke otherwise.

I smirked up at him. "I'm flattered. I don't remember the last time I was lavished with gifts." I stepped toward him, my smirk becoming a smile, "I rather like it, you know."

A corner of his large mouth came up. "You know I'll give you whatever you ask, Star."

I huffed, "Anything?"

His head tipped. A tempting look watched me. He was just as much of a warm body as Abigail. And we weren't friends.

[Abigail note: Just so you know, I was NOT asleep and would have definitely let you stay. ;)]

IRL Author's Note: I love writing as Astarion. Plot bunny wants me to hop over to a new fic where I write from his POV about leading the 7,000 spawn as different clan families... OH and the one where he becomes essentially the leader of BG after outliving everyone 500 years, he's just been biding his time for the return of all the souls of his previous companions.

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abbysimsfun · 7 months ago

Text

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 57 (Reaping Rewards?)

The morning after Heather and Conrad's trip to the lighthouse, he returned from an early morning run with Gord and checked the mail. (That mailbox came with the house in the gallery and I feel great leaving it.) Along with the usual collection of bills and flyers for the fish market down at the docks, a strange newsletter, advertising a so-called "Recipe for Life," had been delivered.

Heather put down the trifold from the Ambrosia Society. She'd never heard of it. "It's a little strange we were just talking about ghosts and unfinished business, and the next day a newsletter arrives talking about ambrosia," she mused.

They weren't sure whether to be intrigued or disturbed - perhaps a little of both - but they couldn't deny their curiosity. Conrad looked them up on his phone. "They look legit, and I can check them out on the police computers on Monday - but you're almost a master gardener and you're already a master cook. Sorta seems like a challenge you could meet without even trying."

"I could learn to make ambrosia treats along with the Recipe for Life, as the newsletter calls it. I've stuck to wellness treats so far, but lots of pet owners ask about ambrosia. Maybe ambrosia treats could help you track down that dog you heard at the lighthouse. And knowing how to make ambrosia could definitely come in handy if the Landgraab curse strikes again."

"What does it say we have to do?"

"We need to get this thing called a Grimophone, then plant a lily and a snapdragon. I should ask my mother for help but I think whoever sent the newsletter eventually wants us to graft and grow a death flower in exchange for the recipe. She harvests them sometimes and taught me how when I was younger; she can sell them for a lot of money, but we don't have a lot of indoor space and the plants are seasonal. We'd probably have to use the hall outside Ash's room."

"Not that I think it's a great idea to give a toddler a bunch of thorny plants, and you know what I think about the curse, but if you load up Ash with a bundle of death flowers, no curse would ever be able to touch him. He'd need at least nine lives," said Conrad.

"Maybe when he's older." She frowned. "I'd rather not scare him or lie to him about what they're for. But doing this could help keep him safe. That's all I want."

Despite their busy lifestyles, they were more attracted to the challenge set forth in the newsletter with each passing thought.

"I don't mind cooking more, learning the recipe myself. I meant it when I said I'd do anything to keep you and Ash safe, but we're a team, and you're not going to do this alone," he said. "It's dangerous messing around with death."

Visiting her family in Henford, Heather picked up some flower seeds from her expert botanist mother and asked her sister-in-law, a walking Simpedia on all kinds of topics, about the Grimophone.

"My mother has one," said Cass. "Anything paranormal, you name it. She bought it."

"What does it do?"

"It plays any music you want, but the real trick is it'll help you summon the Grim Reaper. If you go see my mother, she'd be happy to show it to you."

After work one rainy evening, Heather and Conrad stopped by to visit Bella Goth at her mansion in Cavalier Cove. Through her years spent obsessing over the supernatural, she'd collected various items that now took up space in her attic.

Heather was nervous. "And summoning the Grim Reaper will help us learn to make ambrosia? It won't do anything else...like unleash death and destruction?"

"From Grimmie? Hardly! He's just a courier. Jokes he wears bicycle shorts under all those black robes."

"You know the Grim Reaper?"

"He was the last person to see my brother alive, so I had to find a way to talk to him. But he was so kind. We struck up a nice friendship."

"According to the newsletter, we'll probably have to make friends with him, too."

"I bet Grimmie asked the society to set the challenge just so he could make a bunch of new friends! He knows plenty of people know how to make ambrosia, but he wishes people were less afraid of him. Culling sims all day can be a lonely existence, you know."

Bella led them upstairs and pulled out her old Grimophone, blowing off the dust to reveal a music player made of matte black steel. "If you want, I could pull out the seance table and you could ask the spirits about ambrosia. That should help you learn the recipe in no time."

Conrad stepped forward. "Is it safe?"

"I haven't used it in years so it might be a little shaky, but the spirits who stick around to answer simple questions are harmless. Mostly departed mentors who miss teaching."

She sat with Heather and Conrad at the small round table draped in purple and gold cloth. She blew away more dust, and Heather's allergies made her sneeze.

"Watcher bless you," said Bella. "It's especially important to say such a thing if you sneeze around a seance table. We don't need any spirits stealing your soul!"

"This is a bad idea. Heather, maybe we should think more about this."

"Conrad, it's okay. I still have my soul," Heather assured him. "We're here for Ash, so we might as well ask about the ambrosia."

Bella showed them how to convene with the spirits with their palms open on the table. She chanted a rhyme that sounded faintly Omiscan, and suddenly a blue flame flickered to life before their eyes.

Floating above the table, the flame bent it's shape into a hoop, like a tunnel for spirits and sims to commune on one plane. Heather seemed possessed, swaying with the pulsing circle above their heads as jumbled Simlish spewed from her lips.

"What's happening to her?" Conrad was frightened, but Bella smiled warmly.

"She's fine. They're just having a conversation."

"Make it stop!"

"They'll only be a few minutes. If I pull her out before they're finished, she might not be able to get in touch with them again. They think it's rude if you just leave."

"Is she even conscious?"

"In a way."

"Could she get...stuck?"

"Oh, that's rare!" She laughed while Conrad's heartrate quickened.

"Mrs. Goth, if anything happens to her in there-"

"What's going on?"

Bella's son, Alexander, walked nonchalantly into the room. The flaming blue portal to another dimension didn't phase him.

"Heather's travelling with some of my old gear, sweetheart."

"Is this that newsletter thing?"

"This was my idea," she admitted. "But Heather's fine."

"Do you think you'll be done before Lydia gets back from spin class? This might freak her out a bit."

Finally, disappearing as rapidly as it first appeared, the blue light released Heather from her trance. "Wow!" she breathed, lowering her hands and reacquainting herself with her surroundings. "That was nuts! How long was I out?"

"A few minutes, just like I expected." Bella shot Conrad a satisfied grin while his shoulders dropped in relief.

"I just went to school and learned about ambrosia for three days. I feel like I could make ambrosia treats in my sleep! They said we can only learn the Recipe for Life by following the instructions as they're given, and the next thing we need to do is summon the Grim Reaper on the Grimophone."

"Did you want mine?"

"You don't need it?"

"Grim and I are such good friends, I can just call him on my phone. Go ahead, have fun, but it drops a fair bit of soot in the air from the horn. Just a warning!"

When they returned home, Conrad held her close, still unnerved by what he witnessed. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Conrad, I'm fine," she insisted. "It wasn't a big deal. It was school. Nothing dangerous."

"If we use Mrs. Goth's table again, you're not travelling or whatever she called it. I will. I can't let anything happen to you."

She didn't mind his protective stance despite her independence. He always made her feel safe, and she wanted him to see where she'd been so he'd know the place was nothing to fear. But they were both exhausted by the events in Bella's attic, and they decided to wait to use the borrowed Grimophone.

For now, they'd plant their seeds and wait to see if the Ambrosia Society sent another newsletter. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: As a master vet Heather knew how to make ambrosia treats. She's had a couple in reserve for a long time, but I'm pretending they're not there yet. She hasn't sold or used one because I've been plotting this paranormal storyline and wasn't sure when to bring it in, but Reapers Rewards presented a great opportunity, especially with death on their minds so recently with Ash's accident, and Heather constantly trying to improve her clinic's rating. Yesterday's post was always meant as a soft launch, but it wasn't going to get this supernatural for a while!

The storyline is actually for Conrad more than Heather, but these two are an excellent team so I don't mind that I accidentally sent Heather through the flame portal and not Conrad. He was legit upset, raising his voice to Bella while it was happening, so that stuff wrote itself and proved he's as incredible as we all think he is. Plus Heather's the one with the skills that will hopefully make this challenge a breeze, let me collect quasi-free stuff and write while Conrad gets some skills up, so they're definitely going to do this one together.

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