#water drops mist maker

[mjlistune]

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[charlesandmartine]

Wednesday 17th April 2024

When dawn broke one could see the lights of Mossel Bay across the water, but as the sun came up, the mist started to come down. I guess that's just the way it is there. We had a quick breakfast, loaded the stuff into the VW, bade our farewells to this strange property, the sea front and the parrots and hit the road; this time the N2 bound for George. In all we expected roughly 3 hours elapsed time of motoring, but we intended to call in at Knysna; a town everyone seems to know and tell us we need to go to, but a place no-one seems to be sure about what's there. Anyway, we headed to the Waterfront which seemed a good starting point and were soon fixed up with an extremely palatable coffee and chocolate croissant. Most acceptable I'd say.

This part of the coast is firmly into the Garden Route, and our journey onwards East confirmed that the scenery is absolutely fabulous. Green, lush vegetation, tree clad mountains and picturesque lakes. Through Wilderness and on to Pine Lake which lay so still, not a ripple, it was just content to sit there all day reflecting the mountain behind. Soon we were passing the sign which declared we were now officially in the Eastern Cape.

We lunched in Plettenberg Bay, a comly little place designed very much for holiday makers. We fitted right in there and found a seat overlooking the beach which was full of happy families with designated tasks of building sandcastles. We left the VW in the good care of a carpark attendant, and in the age old tradition, by passing silver from one palm to the other, no harm would come to the car.

Life guards were nervously watching the bay and the swimmers. At one point everyone was called out of the water. Great Whites have been spotted recently and are, we are told, more likely April onwards. Hmm. Didn't see one but I'm sure he saw us!

Now we asked Mr Avis, taxi drivers all sorts, are there any toll roads in South Africa/ Garden Route? Oh no they all said. We don't have tolls. Well as soon as we plotted our route on Google to Jeffrey's Bay there it was, toll road. Don't you just know it. Anyway, we have plenty of spare change and this route saved us an hour, so we set off. Through forest, hill and dale we drove on an empty road, empty because you have to pay I guess. Anyway, we pulled into the booth, produced our R200 note and the girl said, oh, you don't have to pay. No explanation that we could understand, but we were free to go!

This is an interesting country. Clearly when a job needs doing, a white man calls for a black man. Mornings and evenings we see pickup trucks going back and forth picking up and dropping off teams of men and taking them to where the work is; often lawn maintenance, general building and in volume, road maintenance. They crowd into the backs of these vehicles often from pickup points along the roads. Archaic maybe but it seems to work. In its defence there seems a distinct attempt to create jobs even if it is so menial and perhaps unnecessary. For instance, people manually sweeping sand off a path by the beach or standing waving or holding limply a red flag near to roadworks. The sad thing is that they often seem to come out of the shanty towns on the outskirts of rather affluent white towns. We cannot judge as it's not our culture, but it is a little disconcerting.

We passed one such shanty town made up of rows and rows of tiny corrugated iron boxes, and I'm ashamed to say, were relieved when we crossed a river and into an area called Paradise Beach where we are lodged in a luxurious little house on stilts for the next three days.

ps We popped out for an evening meal at a restaurant recommended by our host. It could not be closer to the sea if it tried; the floor was sand! I had an excellent tuna steak and Martine a lamb shank but cooked in an amazing South African set of spices unknown. Absolutely delicious. The whole thing with tips and alcohol was less than £29!

pps over 31°C today.

ppps there was a malicious campaign afoot on the toll road into here disparaging the rights to baboons having a square meal. Big signs, Do Not Feed the Baboons. Fine for doing so, R500. Well we didn't see a single baboon along the 60k section hungry or otherwise.

[starkysa]

Cthulhu setting Assassin's Creed

(If someone wants to use this setting, just take it and write on the source. I'm glad to see anybody use this setting)

Altaïr ibn La-Ahad

Title: God of Sky and Assassination

Attribute: Air

Phase description: It is generally described as a large bird made of eyes, with two pairs of wings and razor-blade legs, and a red ribbon in the tail. It is said that this red ribbon is self-conscious (Ezio: It can strangle other people/great old ones).

Semi-human form: The arms are replaced by a pair of wings, the white fabric clothes on the lower body is looked like tentacled, all the eyes are transferred to the area covered by the clothes, and the blade-like legs are hidden. In general, Altaïr choose to float instend of walking.

Introduction: Fast and ruthless. Altaïr doesn't like water very much. He moves quickly and silently. Many people, including some great old ones, wonder what is under Altaïr' clothes, and there is always someone who takes the risk to pick it open. But no one knows what the result of doing is.

Apparitions: The sky darkens, a lot of air surges, lightning but no rain. (This is more likely in deserts and arid regions)

Symbolic sacrificial articles: throwing knives, hidden blades, several human ring fingers, red silk ribbons, sand, feathers, assassin's markers

Ezio Auditore da Firenze

Title: God of Fertility and Procreation

Attribute: ground

Phase description: Described as a melted black elk with goat eyes(devil eyes), red ribbon wrapped around its neck, and the spots on its back are all eyes, both eyes are goat eyes. The tail is made of fog and is shaped like a foxtail.

Semi-human form: one eye is normal and the other eye is like a goat. Elk antlers and ears are visible overhead without a hood. According to Ezio himself, the shape of the horn can be changed according to his own wishes. His legs resemble those of artiodactyla, retaining a fog-fox tail.

Introduction: Love some fancy things. The human form may be fascinating, but the real is the scariest of all great old ones. Not very fast. It is said that his singing can cause a significant drop in sanity, much faster than listening to Evie speaking. The great old ones or elder gods do not lower their sanity, but will shut him up immediately (Altaïr: His singing is terrible!) Because the tribute will have a lot of fruit, so it may be taken away by other great old ones (" Jacob you stole my tribute!" )

Apparitions: Moist smell emanates from the forest, mist appears, and the environment darkens. There is indescribable sounds from the depths. The trees bear fruit, but they all look strange. Everythings in views look like having a heightened contrast, as well as what will you see while eatening toadstool.

Symbolic sacrificial articles: Lace, several newborns, goats, cereal, dairy, eggs, antlers

Edward James Kenway

Title: God of Navigation and Wealth

Attribute: Water

Phase description: Looks like a shark, with tentacles on the belly, eyes on the side, and two fins like flying fish on the back.

Semi-human form: Shark teeth. Keep the fins on his back. All eyes are transferred to the tattoos on the body. The right hand is the octopus tentacle. When out of water, Edward has human legs; When in the water, keep the lower half of the shark's tail. Occasionally wearing a headband instead of a hood.

Introduction: Shipwreck Maker, especially when a merchant ship passes by. Like seeking treasure. He can fly, doesn't fly so much time but can go very high( especially if he is on a boat) Edward is not very fearful like other great old ones(Connor: That's if he's wearing clothes on his upper body), but high physical attacks. Very freewheeling, if you have money, he'll take it all. Connor is his grandson, and his son Haytham was taken to the temple in his time of weakness.

Apparitions: huge whirlpools around sailing ships, shoals of fish, lightning and thunder in the sky accompanied by torrential rain, hallucinations of boats floating in the sky, and hallucinations of barcaroling.

Symbolic sacrificial articles: Money and treasure, model boats or ship design drafts, shark teeth, guns, the vocal cords of several sailors

Connor（Ratohnhaketon）

Title: God of Forest and War

Attribute: ground

Description: The largest of the great old ones. It looks like a giant, two-headed Wolf, as tall as a mountain. Each Wolf's head has an upright eye right in the middle.

Semi-human form: Retain Wolf ears, tail, claws, limbs（can change into human arms) and canine teeth. The others are indistinguishable from humans.

Introduction: Looks horrible but actually very gentle. Although looks huge, but mainly physical combat rather than mental attacks (but gigaphobia caution). He is kind with the animals in the mountains and got along well with the other great old ones. Edward is said to be his grandfather, although they look like completely unrelated. Father Haytham seems to have given himself his identity as a great old one, and then become spiritually resistant ordinary people. According to Connor, Haytham's noumenon is also a deep-sea creature. (Actually, Connor wonders how his father didn't turn into an elder God.)

Apparitions: the mountains and everything shake, like an earthquake. People will feel something rolling over their bodies.

Symbolic sacrificial articles: wolf's teeth, bear gall, eagle's skull, oak, Indian tomahawk, blood from humans

Shay Patrick Cormac

Title: God of Deep Sea and Healing

Attribute: Water

Description: He has the body of a cod and the mouth of a lamprey, with a dense mouth of sharp teeth and eyes, and a tentacled neck.

Semi-human form: when not in water, he has legs and hands, eyes on ear fins, and a mask covering the mouth; In the water, the lower half of the codfish's tail is retained, the arms under the cloak become numerous tentacles, and the ear-fins and eyes remain. His face is covered with few fine fish scales, his teeth are sharp and tusked, and his tongue resembled a real snake, can make a hissing sound.

Introduction: A few in number of the great old ones can add the value of santiy(by singing), but see the noumenon will still drop sanity. Some people say that listening to the song still losing the santiy. (Shay: Duh, that's Ezio singing! Cover your ears common people!) He doesn't really like to go ashore, usually look like a swimmer in the water with a swimming ring. He looks very silent, but is actually a chatty person (There is a record of Shay can annoy Edward from the Atlantic to the Pacific). Every time he sees Arno, he feels guilty, and Arno is very confused about this. Although he is a templer, the species classification is still great old ones. The boss at the Templer is Haytham, Edward's son and Connor's father. Though his boss's immediate family are great old ones, Shay had never felt the same in Haytham. When Shay unexpectedly retires to semi-human form on a sea mission, Haytham remains undeterred and warns him to hide his tentacles. Shay, who watches other ordinary crew members shudder, realizes that Haytham is something special after all.

Apparitions: all the fish scatter, a cold feeling from the spine. The cold water is close to freezing temperature, and the body is gradually unable to move.

Symbolic sacrificial articles: Lampreys, deep-sea octopuses or King squid, bubbles in trenches, metal signs of templer, bodies mangled by earthquakes

Arno Victor Dorian

Title: God of Vengeance and Mists

Attribute: Fire

Description: The smallest of the great old ones. A chimera like a cheetah, a gazelle, and a peregrine falcon. In addition to the gazelle horns, the head has a pair of horns and a frontal horn. Has a mask, and the mask never taken off. The face behind the mask must not be saw, but from around the mask will spill tentacles. The front half of the body is classified as a cheetah, the back half like a gazelle, two pairs of peregrine falcon wings and two snake tails. All the spots on the body are eyes.

Semi-human form: Retains 2 pairs of wings, 2 tails, and horns can be seen faintly under the hood. Take off the hood and you can see all the corners. He can pull out his mask conveniently, but wear or not to see the mood (basically will not wear).

Introduction: The great old ones who has some conscientious than the others. He will try to reduce the santiy attacks on other creatures, but he doesn't know how to cure the pollutants that have lost their sanity. Arno, although he will control his power, he is still second to Ezio in the speed of seeing noumenon losing sanity value, so please do not to see his noumenon or you want to take a shortcut to life. The fastest great old ones, even a high speed camera can't record. Can summon bats under special circumstances. Have the ability of transfiguration, vision sharing, storage and so on.

Apparitions: A sudden mass of smoke, accompanied by dark red liquid oozing from the ground, chaotic scenes of falling heads and burning flames, accompanied by severe hallucinations.

Symbolic sacrificial articles: Baguette, coffee, peregrine feathers and cheetah hair, gazelle horn, human head/skull several, lit late 18th century style candle lantern, smoke bomb, Phantom blades

Jacob Frye Evie Frye

Title: God of Night and Tricks

Attribute: Air

Description: Twin great old ones, are made up of black mist like rooks, can see the mist mixed with eyes. Have the widest wingspan.

Semi-human form: Both have large black wings, ear and tail feathers. The feet are rookclaw. Jacob's eyes are covered with a white ribbon and his right hand is claw; Evie wears a beak mask and her left hand is claw.

Introduction: The god of Trick is also called the "God of looking for trouble", especially Jacob, the favorite thing to do is to pull other great old ones or elder gods fur (if have feather stealing feathers, if have scales stealing scales) more excessive once dragged Arno's tail flying around, finally Arno and Evie together beat him up. Love eyes and shiny gadgets. Can summon a flock of rooks at any time. As noisy as Shay, but maybe even worse. The eyes of the Jacob cannot be seen by humans, or it will lead directly to the loss of sanity; Evie speaking without a mask will slowly lowers the listener's sanity. Evie can be completely invisible when she is static. Jacob is very keen on picking on the elder gods of the templer, and collects feathers and scales from the the templer, as well as the eyes of the human templer (Evie: Jacob even separats the assassin's and temple's fur).

Apparitions: day turns into night, the stars disappear. A large flock of rooks hover overhead to form an eye. An auditory hallucination of hissing.

Symbolic sacrificial articles: things glittering with gold, several pairs of eyes, rooks' feathers, beak masks, cane sword or brass knuckle, collected bottles with the full moon

Bayek

Title: God of Guardian and Yellow Sand

Attribute: Fire

Description: A large cat with three tails. The legs are covered with feathers and appear as eagle claws, with wings on the shoulder blades and hipbones. The wings cannot fly, but they can glide in the air for a long time. There is nothing unusual in the direct view, but when he opens mouth can see the deep emptiness, eyes and sharp teeth.

Semi-human form: Ears and tail exposed, eagle claws and shoulder and crotch wings retained, hands are cat-like. But the mouth is still normal, or covered with an egyptian cotton square.

Introduction: Comparing with other great old ones, Bayek appears to be veracity and normal, and will not do any extra work outside the contract. (Arno: Naming and criticizing the Frye Twins. Shay: So are you.) Comparing with Altaïr, who hates water, Bayek has no special views on water, except that he easily evaporates when he is close to it (Altaïr: You scold?) because he is too good at disguising as normal people, and has no direct sanity attack. He was once thought to be an ordinary magical animal or even an ordinary human, until he was called out in a summons ceremony to confirm that this is a great old one. The oldest known of the great old ones.

Apparitions: sand envelopes the sky with clouds, water evaporates rapidly, the air becomes extremely dry, nearby dry plants will directly ignite.

Symbolic sacrificial articles: Eagle skull, sand, fur from a live purebred Egyptian cat, torches, iron balls soaked in human blood

Some miscellaneous：

It is Altaïr's original idea to become an assassin, and he is the first to put it into practice. The reason is that assassins can kill other invisibly, so that others who die of mental contamination or other strange causes can be blamed on their profession. (Shay: So casual.)

The Brotherhood of Assassins is still normal, but with great old ones worship. All the assassins' leap of faith and other very human things are also the reason for believing in the great old ones. (Jacob: Is it possible that Egio's illegitimate child… Don't stare at me, Evie! I've really been thinking about this!) Some of the assassins who have eagle vision are of the blood of the great old ones, some have made deals with them or are incarnations of the great old ones. The great old ones are in harmony with each other, not in a fire-and-water situation as traditional.

Part of the templer of this worldview is the elder gods, still opposed to the assassins. Shay may have made an exception to join the templer because of his healing skills (Actually he just wants to be at peace between the two powers), while Arno and Connor are relatively virtuous and some of the Temple are more relaxed about them. The temple will cure the pollutants affected by the ancient gods, and prevent them from being summoned, if necessary, the two sides will fight.

The Isu are Outer Gods, but they don't have the Pieces of Eden, and they are currently in a theatergoing state. But what the great old ones or elder gods left behind might be considered hallows (" Have you seen my top hat, Evie?" "Oh, the call table." "Come on, again?) The outer gods and the great old ones don't get along that well.

There are also cases where the three powers make a scene together. For example, Élise De Laserre is actually the incarnation of the elder god, but François-Thomas Germain, who is opposite her, is the incarnation of the outer god. Élise couldn't fight the outer god and then fell into a deep sleep, which was finally destroyed by Arno. (Incarnation fighting incarnation does not do much damage to the original body, so the Élise in this world is not dead, but her strength is exhausted and hibernated. At present, the Arno's incarnation is staying in this world in order to find a way to wake her up)

Great old ones and elder gods are immune to san attacks (Edward: except for Ezio's song, which should be included in physical attacks.) But not immune to mutual physical attacks. (Connor: Give me an arrow and I'll shoot down Ezio's lute.) When their incarnation are templers or assassins, the weapons are made of their own feathers or scales, so there is no issue of replenishing weapons, but sometimes the changes were quite wacky (Ezio: What do you do with my broomstick, I just sweep the leaves in front of my house… What's that? Cesare? Give him a broom!）

Here, the elder gods and the great old ones have the same attitude towards humans as the original, only more indifferent, and they don't have any actions if no one summons them. But Incarnations can walk around at will, so conflicts continue.

When the great old ones and elder gods are not summoned(Giving up of summon outer gods, you can't succeed), there will be incarnations, and the human form is one of the incarnations (semi-human is the appearance of half of the real). They may also become other creatures or objects. Assassins and templar-like humans are the most commonly used Incarnations. Biological Incarnations are unique and do not appear in the same species at the same point in time. Connor, for example, prefers animal incarnations such as wolves, eagles, or bears (but certainly different from normal animals, such as the two-headed wolf and the three-clawed eagle); Arno's preference for humanoid incarnations has something to do with his transfiguration. On rare occasions, Altaïr would dissolve himself into water droplets to observe. (Arno: He lost a bet. Jacob/Edward: LMAO)

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Elihu Declares God's Justice and Power

1 Then Elihu continued and said, 2 “Bear with me a little longer, and I will explain, for I still have something to say on God’s behalf. 3 I will bring my knowledge from far away, and I will ascribe righteousness to my maker, 4 for truly my words are not falsehood; one who has perfect knowledge is with you. 5 Look, God is mighty but does not despise anyone; he is mighty and good in understanding. 6 He does not keep the wicked alive but grants justice to the afflicted. 7 He does not withdraw his eyes from the righteous, but he sets them forever with kings on the throne, and they are exalted. 8 “And if they are tied up with fetters, if they are caught in the cords of misery, 9 then he declares their work to them, and their transgressions, that they are behaving arrogantly. 10 So he opens their ear to the discipline, and he commands that they return from mischief. 11 If they listen and serve him, they complete their days in prosperity and their years in pleasantness. 12 But if they do not listen, they perish by the sword, and they pass away without knowledge. 13 And the godless of heart cherish anger; they do not cry for help when he binds them. 14 They die in their youth, and their life ends among the male shrine prostitutes. 15 He delivers the afflicted by his misery, and he opens their ears by the adversity. 16 And what’s more, he allured you out of distress into a broad place, where in place of it was no constraint; and what was set on your table is full of fatness. 17 But you are obsessed with the judgment of the wicked; judgment and justice take hold of you. 18 Yes, it is wrath, so that it will not incite you into mockery; and do not let the ransom’s greatness turn you aside. 19 Will your cry for help sustain you without distress, or all the efforts of your strength? 20 You must not long for the night, to cut off people in their place. 21 Take care, you must not turn to mischief, for because of this you have been tried by misery. 22 “Look, God is exalted in his power; who is a teacher like him? 23 Who has prescribed his way for him? Or who says, ‘You have done wrong’? 24 Remember that you should extol his work, of which people have sung. 25 All human beings have looked on it; everyone watches from afar. 26 “Look, God is exalted, and we do not know him; the number of his years is unsearchable. 27 Indeed, he draws up the drops of water; he distills the rain into its mist, 28 which the clouds pour down; they shower abundantly on human beings. 29 “Moreover, can anyone understand the spreading of clouds, the thundering of his dwelling place? 30 Look, he scatters his lightning around him, and he covers the roots of the sea. 31 Indeed, he judges people by them; he gives food in abundance. 32 He covers his hands with lightning, and he commands it the place at which to strike. 33 His thundering tells about him; the livestock also tell concerning what rises. — Job 36 | Lexham English Bible (LEB) Lexham English Bible 2012 by Logos Bible Software. Lexham is a registered trademark of Logos Bible Software. Cross References: Numbers 3:49; Deuteronomy 23:17; Deuteronomy 32:4; 1 Samuel 2:8; 2 Samuel 22:12; 2 Kings 17:13; Job 4:7; Job 4:17; Job 4:21; Job 5:10; Job 5:15; Job 5:17; Job 6:28; Job 12:13; Job 21:22; Job 22:5; Job 33:24; Job 34:20; Job 35:16; Job 37:1-2; Job 37:11-12; Psalm 49:7; Psalm 65:11; Psalm 119:61; Daniel 9:13; Acts 14:17; 1 Corinthians 13:12; 1 Timothy 4:8; Hebrews 11:25; Revelation 15:3

[mixedforestkitchenwitch]

✨Magical Motivating Strawberry Rosemary Sorbet✨

Having trouble sticking with a project or a daily practice? Do you have big plans but you’re not quite sure how to start? Might I suggest a delicious strawberry spell!

Strawberries contain the magic of devotion to fertility (and no I don’t mean it that way.) You can ask strawberry to help you devote yourself to a meaningful practice where you may not see the fruits of your labor for a while. Think learning an instrument, starting a business, or sticking with actually journaling every day.

Reproducing primarily through runners, strawberry gives of herself until the young plants are well established, and can even support the runners into maturity if there is no viable soil around. Strawberry is all about support and follow through. The mantra I used for this spell follows that logic. “I see my projects through and give of myself what is needed of me.” Here’s hoping this gets me motivated to finish my web design project!

Sorbet Supplies✨

🍓Blender

🍓Ice Cream Maker

Magical Supplies✨

🍓Candle (orange for motivation, or white for general purposes)

🍓Crystals (tiger’s eye for shaking off lethargy, amethyst for purpose, and a clear quartz point to direct the energy. It’s also fine to not have crystals!)

Ingredients✨

🍓2 Quarts of Strawberries (ideally fresh and in-season, but frozen or out of season will work too!)

🍓Juice of Less Than One Lemon (to balance flavor)

🍓Pinch of Salt (to balance flavor)

🍓Fresh Rosemary (1 medium sprig) (to protect your intentions)

🍓1 cup of sugar

🍓A few tablespoons of water (just enough to make a simple syrup with the sugar)

🍓Fresh Chamomile Flowers for Garnish (or an extra couple rosemary needles or skip the garnish)

Instructions✨

1. Make some magic. Light your candle and bring in your relevant crystals.

2. If your berries are fresh and not frozen, wash em!

3. Decapitate your berries (cut the green tops off.) You can use a little knife or melon baller or even your thumb nail.

4. Enchant your berries. Hold as many of them as you can in your cupped hands and imagine an orange mist swirling around them while you say your mantra. When you’re done, drop them in the blender and blend them until consistent, then add to a large mixing bowl. (If you have too many berries for the blender cup, blend the berries in batches.)

5. Mince the rosemary. You should have about a tablespoon minced. Then, cup the minced rosemary in your hands and enchant it with a white light of protection. Then add it to a saucepan.

6. Add your sugar and water to that saucepan, with the heat on medium high. Make sure you add enough water for it to be a syrup and not a caramel. Maybe 3-4 tablespoons, maybe more. Stir to dissolve, and then turn the heat down to very low and simmer for 5 minutes. Turn off the heat and rest the syrup with the lid on for a few minutes to let the flavor infuse.

7. Add 2/3rds of the syrup to the strawberry purée along with a tablespoon of lemon juice and a pinch of salt. Stir to combine. Stir longer than you think you will need to, because the mix is thick and the flavors won’t distribute unless you distribute them with purpose. Taste, and then add more syrup if needed. It should taste slightly sweeter than you would like, because freezing mellows the sweetness. Keep adjusting and mixing until it tastes right.

8. Add it to your ice cream maker and churn until thick but not totally set (it’ll finish setting up in the freezer.) 15 minutes to a half hour. Freeze for at least 2 hours before scooping.

9. Scoop and garnish with edible flowers or leftover fresh rosemary needles.

10. Eat with intent :)

[phantomrose96]

Buds After the Frost

This was supposed to be a short warm-up writing exercise yesterday and then it got... longer. Enjoy!!

...

The doors opened for Maddie Fenton with a pneumatic hiss. Pressurized nitrogen released, splitting open the vacuum seal on the door as its twin halves slid apart, slotting into the wall-mounted sleeves. The nitrogen misted out, cold and dry, air currents catching in swirls around Maddie Fenton’s lab coat. Her feet thocked against hollow metal, amplified by the coldness and the vastness of the containment room beyond.

She paused short of the specimen’s cell, mindful attention drawn to the panel of controls nested rightmost against the wall. The monitor read out stats, tracked metrics of the specimen’s heartrate and blood oxygenation and blood pressure. Dials beneath the screens offered her means of interaction, manipulating the cage’s environment without needing to tamper with it by hand. She ignored these, as she had been ignoring them the entire time, and paid mind only to the single switch which would seal shut the doors behind her.

She pressed it. Another pneumatic hiss followed, locking out the world behind her. Her breath curled, cold. She and the specimen were alone.

“No coffee this morning?” he asked.

Maddie sat down at the control panel, elbow leaning against the dashboard for support. She turned to the cage. “No. One of the interns broke the pot last night. New one should be delivered today.”

Phantom let out a huff of air. “You mean in this whole gigantic mega-hyper-futuristic government lab, there’s nothing that can stand in as a coffee pot?”

“I wouldn’t stay employed long if I tried using equipment to brew coffee.”

“Use one of the big ectoplasm beakers. Ectoplasm washes out with soap and water. Just suds it up and throw it in the coffee maker. I’m an expert about these things.”

“It’s more about protocol.”

Phantom waved her off. “’Protocol.’ Bureaucracy is standing between you and a delicious cup of ectoplasmic coffee, Dr. Fenton.”

Maddie looked forward now, taking him in. He’d hovered to the front of the cell, translucent reinforced glass separating him from the rest of the lab. Green eyes shined above a cheeky smile, a dusting of loose white hairs falling over his eyes, the rest of his bangs swept slightly to the side. His tailed flickered, his aura pulsed, his vital readings blipped out steady, normal, healthy.

“Phantom?”

“Yeah?”

Maddie paused.

“Why are you still here?”

The ghost boy let out a small guffaw. He motioned his arms around him, hands waving. “I dunno. Maybe the big ghost-proof box I’m in has something to do with it?”

“The shield is down, Phantom,” Maddie answered quietly. She set her eyes to Phantom, investigating. “…I put it down last night. It’s down now. You knew this.”

Phantom took just a moment too long to react, eyebrows arching up. “Oh, huh! Nope I didn’t notice. I mean it’s not like I’m constantly throwing myself at the barrier to electrocute myself so no I just didn’t try getting past it last night so I didn’t notice.”

“Phantom,” Maddie said again, voice measured, words stern. “You saw me crank down the dial that controls the shield.”

“Well I don’t know what all those buttons and dials do.”

“Yes you do. You’ve been observing me since day 1. You knew.”

Phantom kicked back in the air, floating a fraction back and higher. “Well maybe I thought it was a trap, I dunno. Or maybe I just like to get in your head, you know? What unpredictable thing will Phantom do next! Gotta write another 200 equations about ghost theory to figure that one out, Dr. Fenton.”

“Phantom.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you not want to leave?”

“Oh I wanna leave.”

“Then why aren’t you?”

“We’re having a conversation. That’d be rude.”

“Will you leave as soon as I exit the room?”

“Who knows?”

“Phantom.”

“Yeah?”

Maddie stood. She left her chair and the control panel behind. She walked up to the specimen cage instead. It was cubic, a skeleton of metal bar ribbings with a metal mesh that plastered the glass sides like a membrane. The top anchored to the ceiling, the bottom—raised by about a foot—anchored to a pedestal on the floor. Maddie stared through the mesh into Phantom’s eyes.

“Is there anyone who realizes you’re missing?” she asked.

Phantom chewed on the question. “Nah. Well um, trick question, actually. Probably not. Assuming I do this right, then no one has even realized I’m gone.”

“Do what ‘right’?”

“You know that thing about Clockwork I explained?”

“You said he’s the ghost that controls time and reality.”

“Yeah. SUPER powerful.”

“And you said you …were from one of those other realities.”

Phantom nodded. “Maybe I touched some things in Clockwork’s lair I wasn’t actually allowed to touch. Jury’s still out on whether I’m in trouble for that or not. I’ve been a little too ‘stuck in this reality’ to know if Clockwork is pissed. But yeah, I got um, bopped into your reality instead of mine. So technically my reality is lacking me right now, and yeah there’s people there who’d know I’m missing.”

Phantom flipped upside-down, as though laying on his back. He rested his palms beneath his head, elbows out, suspended in an invisible hammock, head tilted far back so that he still stared at Maddie. “Especially since it’s been, what, a month that I’ve been gone?”

“2 weeks.”

“What? No way. I’ve been here absolutely forever it has to have been at least a month.”

“This is day 14 of your observation, Phantom.”

Phantom blew a strand of hair out of his face. “Anyway. Two weeks is still long enough to have a search party out on my butt. But whether or not that’s happened is up to – it’s kind of a Schrodinger thing. Because here’s my strategy. Assuming Clockwork hasn’t banned me from reality-hopping forever, I can just get him to send me back to my own reality at the precise moment in time I vanished. And then bam, no one ever knows I was gone. And it makes no difference whether I do that today, or next week, or next month. So assuming you eventually let me go, then I’m all set there.”

“You say that almost like you don’t care when it happens.”

“I dunno, more like I’m just not losing sleep over it. It’s not like I have a say in the matter. You do. I don’t.”

“Is the time you spend here just meaningless, to you?”

“I wouldn’t say meaningless. I’m still aging goddammit.”

“You’re a ghost.”

“I’m complex.” Phantom flipped right-side-up again. “If I start growing facial hair, send me back. I’m gonna have some awkward questions to answer if I show up again with a ghost beard suddenly.”

“…And what if I never send you back?” Maddie asked, careful with her words. “How does your plan work if you stay here forever? If I destroy you first?”

“Um. …It doesn’t, I guess.” Phantom set a hand to his chin, thinking. “Yeah um, please don’t do that. I don’t wanna worry my whole family like that.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“What part?”

“That you have a family.”

“I mean. I think that came up in Interrogation Session #3. Consult your notes.”

“I just have a hard time believing you.”

“Because I’m a ghost?”

“Yes.”

“I’m a complex ghost.”

“I know. You keep saying that.”

“It’s true.”

Silence filtered in between them.

“…What is your family like, Phantom?”

Phantom stiffened a fraction, his eyes finding Maddie’s and shifting away. “Oh, you know, family.”

“Do they exist here too?”

“Huh?”

“You’re from another reality, at least you’re claiming you are.”

“I gotta be. The me from this reality died 6 months ago, didn’t he?”

“The you from most realities is dead, Phantom. You’re a ghost.”

“A complex ghost.”

“The you from this reality was destroyed 6 months ago.”

“Which you validated with your own sciencey equipment, right? You said so! So you know I’m not lying. Unless you think I recombobulated myself from being a protoplasmic smear on the sidewalk.” Phantom caught himself, registering the flinch in Maddie’s body. He deflated a bit, eyes averted. “S-sorry. Inconsiderate phrasing.”

“Why?” Maddie asked, tone flat, blunt.

Phantom’s eyes shifted back. “Um. Just. You know. That accident was. There were um, you know—”

“Human causalities.”

Phantom squirmed. “We don’t have to talk about that, you know? No one wants to talk about that. Okay as a ghost I guess ‘talking about how I died’ is sort of a bit more normal, but this is weird yeah, ‘talking about how an alternate-me died permanently’? That’s morbid. No one wants to talk about that.”

“Okay then. You can go back to answering my previous question.”

“Um. I forget.”

“Does your family exist in this reality?”

“Um, well who really knows, you know? I had like a grand total of 20 minutes of freedom in this reality before you captured me, so, don’t ask me like I’m any kind of expert about your reality. What’s it matter?”

“I want to know if there’s anyone in this reality who’s mourning you.”

Phantom’s face schismed with surprise. His front dropped, and the first look of genuine emotion sank into his glowing eyes. “Woah… That’s um, weirdly nice, of you, I guess. Why do you… want to know?”

Maddie said nothing.

“I. Um. I think the answer is no? So don’t um. Worry about that. If you were worried? Which is weird. I’m the enemy, aren’t I? Evil spooky ghost to be studied?”

“I’m not so sure what you are…” Maddie answered. “I heard you got destroyed trying to save them.”

“The um… the human casualties?”

“Yes.”

“I said we don’t have to talk about that.”

“Phantom.”

“What?”

“Do you know who they were?”

“The… casualties?”

“Yes.”

“Come on we’re on a different topic now.”

“Do you know who they were?”

“I don’t—how’m I supposed to know? I don’t know how I died here, you know? You think I’ve got some kind of like… parallel-universe death vision?”

“So you don’t know?”

“N-no.”

“I have a different question, then.”

“Okay, good, because I haven’t been liking these previous ones.”

“Are you staying just to keep me company?”

Phantom faltered. He looked left, then right, hand scratching at his chin. “I’m staying because I’m in a ghost-proof box.”

“It’s not ghost-proof anymore. The shields are down.”

“I feel like you’re circling around some accusation I’m not smart enough to follow. This feels like entrapment.”

“Then I’ll be more direct.”

“Oh no there is an accusation.”

“I think you do know how you were destroyed in this universe, Phantom.” Maddie took a step forward, and she let her left hand touch the glass, eyes focused on her fingers. “I think you know what happened at the Nasty Burger.”

“That’s—um—the human food… consumption… location… that the local human adolescents meet at, yes?”

Maddie looked up, and she locked Phantom with her stare. He squirmed, and he relented.

“I um…” he continued. “I—yeah—yeah, okay? I know about the Nasty Burger accident. It was supposed to happen to me too in my reality but I—Clockwork—stopped it from happening in my reality.” Phantom glanced left, right, as if staring beyond the confines of his cage. “When I first got knocked into this reality, I went to go find the Fenton portal so I could try to refind Clockwork and fix this and… Well it wasn’t there. And I tried to find some people I know and… I checked out the library in case the Fentons just lived somewhere else and. I um. I found the articles.” His eyes focused on hers again. “They all say you were the only survivor, yeah…?”

“I was sick, that day. It was just a cold. My husband Jack went without me.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It took my daughter and my son too.”

“I’m so sorry…”

“And it destroyed you.”

Phantom opened his mouth, but no words followed.

Maddie looked up.

“You knew this. You’ve known this ever since I captured you.” Maddie let her hand slide away from the glass. “Did you let me capture you?”

“Why would I let you capture me?”

“Because you feel sorry for me.”

Phantom’s eyes flickered about, unwilling to meet hers. “…Nah. Nah. I don’t—come on ‘sorry’? I’m a ghost you know? Bane of humanity! We’re enemies. You were just too skilled a hunter and you captured me.”

“And yet you won’t leave.”

Phantom lapsed silent.

“I um… I wasn’t happy to read about—to know the, the thing at the Nasty Burger happened here, okay? That’s something that I kinda didn’t want to believe existed in any reality anymore, but I guess… And if you were still alive. I was… maybe just kind of happy to see you? That you were okay. And still hunting. That was kind of, like a small relief.” Phantom glanced away, back again. “I wasn’t evil, you know. In my reality or this one. I care about what happened to the Fentons…”

“You let me capture you. …And you did it because you thought it would be a nice thing for you to do for me.”

“I Just—I thought maybe, um… I mean when you phrase it like that. I mean what else could cheer up renowned ghost hunter Maddie Fenton quite like a ghost subject to study? Me, especially? The ghost boy or public enemy #1 or whatever. I’m fun, aren’t I?”

Silently, Maddie pushed away from Phantom’s cage. She moved to the control panel, stiff movements and numb fingers. She entered the release code into the console, and unslung the key from her neck to twist into the override, and she threw down each successive lever in the row of four lining the top of the mechanisms.

The scrape of glass sliding away sounded behind her. All four walls of Phantom’s enclosure dropped away, metal mesh sliding away piece-meal. Phantom stared at her, blinking, floating in place.

“You’re free to go, Phantom.”

“I—uh—well hang on, I don’t think the Guys In White would be too happy about that. You can’t just let me—”

“Go, Phantom.”

“They could like, fire you.”

“I don’t care about this job.”

“I—come on, you still wanna study me, don’t you? Chat with me? If you feel bad maybe just get me a couch and some video games for my cage then I’ll be—”

“Phantom.”

“What?”

“Go home to your family.”

The half-hearted smile dropped from Phantom’s face.

“Come on. You can’t just evict me on such short notice. I’m not ready for Clockwork to kick my ass so soon.”

“Go home.”

“I’m not in any rush! I like talking to you. Don’t you—don’t you like talking to me too? In like a scientific way?”

Maddie lowered herself into the chair by the control panel. She leaned forward, arms pooled in her lap, eyes to the floor. “You have a family to get back to, Phantom.”

“It’s—there’s time travel shenanigans! Like I said they don’t even know I’m gone.”

“Every single day, Phantom,” Maddie looked up, eyes stern, “…I wish every single day that my own family would just come back home. I won’t do the same to you. I won’t do the same to your family.”

Phantom said nothing. A somber acceptance sunk into his eyes.

“They’re… alive, you know. In my dimension.”

Maddie dropped her head, and she blinked away the wetness in her eyes.

“I actually… in my dimension I’m kind of closer to the Fentons than I think the, the Phantom in this dimension was. It’s… complex.”

Maddie said nothing. Silence built between them.

“Jazz is um… Jazz is applying for colleges, y-you know. She got in early-acceptance to Yale but um, we all—they all—visited Columbia last month and I think that’s what she wants the most. I can see Jazz in New York City. I think she’d rock it.”

Maddie blinked again. Tears plicked into her lap.

“…Should I stop?”

“Jack… Tell me about Jack.”

“Oh. Yeah he um… big and goofy as ever. He’s got some kind of eight-armed-octogun he’s working on. I know because I was his target practice, involuntarily by the way. He keeps trying to merge “Fenton” and “octopus” together with mixed results. We—Mo-addie—you… are still trying to talk him out of ‘Fentoctopus’.”

Maddie’s ribcage shuddered, a repressed sob, a repressed laugh.

“And Danny?”

“Danny… um… Danny is...” Phantom’s shoulders fell a little bit. He looked away, and then back at Maddie. “He loves you. I know that.”

Maddie blinked, and blinked again, and her eyes wouldn’t clear.

“And are they happy?”

“They’re happy.”

“Am I happy…?”

“You’re…” Phantom’s tail bounced. “You’re happy, I think. I like to think so. I think you’re very happy. You have a great family.”

Maddie nodded.

“Now go.”

“But I still—”

Maddie reached forward, and she grabbed the ecto-gun propped against the control panel. She lifted it into her shoulder, and flicked the safety, and the charge built along the rising whine.

“Go.”

Phantom balked. He blinked. He kicked away from his wall-less cage. “Not forever. I’ll be back. You won’t be alone here forever.”

He was gone.

And Maddie was alone again.

…

Clockwork surveyed the boy in front of him whose head was bowed nearly to the floor, white bangs trailing along cobblestone, hands clasped, apologies repeated, begging case made.

Clockwork ran a hand along his beard, which unfurled, drew back, undid itself with the shifting of his form to a simple child.

“So let’s see. You have the audacity to break my rules andbeg me to meddle on your behalf in the time stream, all in the same breath? Apologies don’t usually come with additional requests for favors.”

“I know,” Danny’s head dipped lower. “You can punish me however you want for touching the restricted timelines but you have to help it, or let me help this one timeline. Please, please just send me back to the Nasty Burger incident so I can save it.”

“It’s already been saved.”

Danny faltered. He looked up.

“You died at the Nasty Burger incident that night,” Clockwork elaborated, form shifting older. “There is no you to ruin that future. That timeline is safe. It’s a very lucky timeline.”

Danny blinked. “N-no. No that’s not what I mean. Save it like you saved my timeline.”

“That did happen. You’re describing your own timeline.”

“I mean do it to THAT one.”

“You are misunderstanding timelines.”

Danny lapsed silent. Worry bled into his eyes, and Clockwork sighed.

“There is no undoing timelines, Danny. There is only forking them by meddling in the stream. All futures and pasts you witness exist, and do exist, and continue to exist,” Clockwork paused, “with the exception of realities I needed to cull, to prevent utter catastrophe.” His gaze fixed on Danny. “The futures that your evil self destroyed, I did have to cull. And culling a reality is not to be done lightly.”

Clockwork motioned with his staff. “There were a handful of surviving realities that I was able to save. That room you meddled in without my permission—they contain the realities off the main track where, for one reason or another, something else succeeded at destroying your future self. …Your own deaths, in fact. In every one of those realities, Danny, you are dead.”

“I don’t…” Danny shook his head. “So then just tell me how to save that one I was in, okay?”

“Oh, that’s easy.”

“How?”

“You don’t.”

Danny said nothing. Clockwork shifted young.

“You can let it live on in that room, or you could ask me to cull it, Danny. You could ask me to cull every reality in that room, so that the main branch, the one you’re from, is the only reality in existence. So you never have to worry about any existence where your family is unhappy. And it will be that way until you, or I, or someone else, meddles with the timestreams again, and more splits occur.”

Still, Danny said nothing. Clockwork continued.

“Sometimes, a mass culling of realities is healthy for the tree of time, like pruning a plant down to its stalk to survive an unforgiving winter, or a terrible disease. But I did that, just recently, to save all of time from the blight of your future self. It would feel cruel to snip off the first buds that have come after the frost.”

Danny lowered himself to the floor.

“Okay…”

“Okay?”

He nodded. “Okay. Just. I have a different question then.” He looked up, a young devastation wet in his eyes. “Can I still go back and visit that reality, sometimes?”

“No. I cannot give you permission to do that.”

“Please!”

Clockwork spun his staff. A portal swirled into being in the space between him and Danny. Washes of color formed patterns, shapes, objects, images. Like a mirror, it reflected Clockwork’s lair beyond its shimmering surface.

“This is a portal back into your own reality. It is set to the location and the time that you vanished. Go there, and leave through the Fenton portal, and nothing will be amiss.”

“No. No no I won’t. Clockwork you have to let me—”

“I am doing you a favor, Danny, getting you home after you caused more trouble. Do not make further demands of me.” Clockwork curled forward, old, sallow skin sagging, and he turned his back to Danny.

“You have to give me permission—”

“I am the only one who has permission to meddle in realities, Danny. This is an absolute.” Clockwork glanced over his shoulder. “And because this is an absolute, I have no reason to have a lock on the room housing those budding other realities.”

Danny blinked.

“I wonder if anyone might break my rules anyway. I wonder if anyone might be nosy, and enter that room anyway, and water the plants in that greenhouse without my permission.” Clockwork stared forward again.

“Clockwork…”

“Luckily I am the master of all time. I would be able to see this coming. And maybe plan for it. If ever such a person would come into my lair, and meddle in my timelines, and try to spread a bit of his own kindness to the realities he couldn’t quite save, I would be fully prepared to stop him.” Clockwork spoke into the green abyss beyond him. “Unless, maybe, I were to accidentally have my back turned.”

Silence trailed after Clockwork’s words. He kept his back to Danny, staring into the abyss of swirling green ether beyond.

“…Thank you,” Danny answered, quietly. “I’ll be back.”

“I imagine you will. Those realities may get lonely without you.”

When Clockwork glanced back over his shoulder, both Danny and the portal were gone.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

For Fictober: Hawkeye + Vampire AU + prompt BC. I think it's so fun that you're doing this! Thanks in advance and I love your writing <3

A/N: You didn't specify M*A*S*H Hawkeye or MCU Hawkeye, so I decided to go with M*A*S*H. If that's not right, I apologize in advanced.

Prompt: “It’s not that you’re wrong, exactly, you’re just extremely not right.”

"So...can you turn into a bat?"

"No."

"A wolf?"

"That's werewolves."

"Are there werewolves?"

Hawkeye paused in thought. "I don't actually know. They don't exactly give you a brochure when you join the legions of the supernatural. Would be helpful though."

You nodded, deciding to drop the subject.

"Alright, how about mist?"

"No," he said. "You know what, let's just do a blanket no on transformations in general, otherwise we'll never get past introductions."

You let out a sigh. This was turning out not to be as interesting as you first assumed.

You had found out about Hawkeye's "condition", his words, on accident. More specifically, you had saw him drinking some of the spare O+ straight from the bag like a juice box.

It had taken some doing to get where you were now. It helped that his first reaction hadn't been to transform into some threatening creature of the night. If anything he was scared of you.

He blurted out everything in a string of consciousness only he was capable of. There was nothing to worry about, he was a vampire. No, he had never fed on a patient. No, he hadn't been at it for very long. Also, no, he didn't know his maker, but if you wanted to get philosophical about it, none of us really knew. And through it all he kept pleading over and over for you not to tell anyone.

"If I'm going to be honest, I really don't want to die. Trust me, I'm too scared even to do it myself."

That at least got you to sit down and it took only a few questions after that to realize, nothing had really changed. Hawkeye was still Hawkeye. The only difference was his diet. In some ways you were envious that he had a solid excuse not to eat from the mess tent anymore.

"Okay, what about sunlight? You seem to walk around camp alright."

Hawkeye tilted his head from side to side. "Yes and no. I mean, I don't burn up in the sun or anything, but it hurts. The sooner I can get inside or in the shade, the better. I just feel...I don't know, weaker somehow."

"How are you with running water?"

"I don't smell that bad do I?"

You shook your head. "Am I'm going to just be wrong about everything?"

“It’s not that you’re wrong, exactly, you’re just extremely not right.”

You let out huff of frustration, causing Hawkeye to laugh.

"You know, you're taking the whole thing better than I expected," he confessed.

"Maybe you just caught me on a good day."

"Maybe, but I'm grateful all the same." He sounded like he meant it too.

There was a natural pause in the conversation. It shouldn't have felt so normal to talk about this stuff with him, but it was. In fairness, it seemed like he needed someone to confide in. You just happened to be there first.

"You know, I don't think our supplies can hold you over forever. Especially if we get another shortage."

His lips pressed together in a fine line. "I know."

"Have you thought about what you'd do when it happens?"

He shrugged. "I figured I'd go for a walk in the mine field. I'm not sure if it would work, but it would certainly take a long time for me to pull myself back together."

"Hawkeye..."

"I'm not killing anyone," he said, sharply. "I won't. Not for my life. Not for anything. This. This place. It can't make me."

"What happened to not wanting to die?"

He gave a dark laugh. "Guess I'm willing to die for some things."

You didn't say anything for a moment, taking the time to chose your next words carefully.

"What if, someone gave it to you willingly?"

He stared at you, mouth open and brows furrowed. "What?"

"Well, you seem to be able to stop when you're no longer hungry," you said. "So, instead of taking from the supplies you just take a little sip from me every now and again."

He just kept staring at you. "A little sip?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. How much do you usually drink?"

He shook his head as if trying to rattle your words into something he could understand.

"You're offering for me to use your veins as my personal buffet?"

"I wouldn't put it quit like that, but yes. Basically."

He blinked, still not getting it. "Why?"

"Because you're my friend," you said simply. "And I don't want you to have to hurt anybody either."

You thought he would continue his practice of staring at you, until all of the sudden, you were pulled into his arms in a deep almost painful hug.

"Thank you," he said. "I owe you everything."

"Maybe not everything," you said. "But, if you would spot be a twenty for the next poker game, I won't say no."

He laughed, never letting you go. "You've got a deal."

[viking-raider]

Quarantine: Laundry Day *COTTON CANDY FLUFF*

Summary: Doing the laundry and making breakfast with Henry.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/You

Word Count: 1,366

Warning: NONE - Fluff, COTTON CANDY GOODNESS!, Domestic Kink, Kal, Some Language.

Inspiration: I don’t know. I need to sleep xD

A/N: I’m really loving writing these sweet, mellow domestic fics. Nothing dramatic, no smut or angst. Just sweet and ordinary life.

It was laundry day in your shared household, with Henry and Kal.

Usually, you and Henry swapped the job of washing clothes, when he was home that was. This would have been Henry's turn to wash the clothes, but he had just gotten home from filming. So, you decided to do the wash this go around, allowing him to sleep in. Which was what your beloved boyfriend was now doing. Upstairs, in your king sized bed, his large and strong body hidden under the mountain of blankets, one muscular arm slung over the massive body of Kal. Both of them snoring loudly and out cold, peaceful in the growing light of the room, the sun coming through the sheer curtains that covered the bedroom windows.

You hummed as you tossed a detergent pod into the washer, then started pulling clothing out of the hamper and tossed them through the open washer door. But, a soft and sleepy woof brought you out of your early morning thoughts. Looking up, you met Kal's sleepy gaze as he stood in the laundry room doorway; then glanced at the clock on the wall.

“Right! Can't be late. Now, can we, Bear?” You chuckled at him and got up, abandoning the wash as you padded into the kitchen with Kal, feeding him, then put on his leash and collar, for his morning walk.

By the time you came back with Kal, Henry was up and had started the coffee maker, by the smell filling the air of the house. You unleashed Kal and moved into the kitchen to give him a treat, when you saw Henry in the laundry room, taking a sip of his coffee, then setting it on top of the washer, before starting to toss the clothes you had abandoned for Kal's walk, into the machine.

“Henry.” You called to him, tossing the meaty treat to Kal. “Go relax, babe.” You told him, stepping into the laundry room with him. “I can do this.”

“It's my turn, sweetheart.” Henry replied, a tired look on his handsome face, his curls falling against his forehead as he looked up at you, from a half bent position. “I can do this. It's all right, I promise.” He assured you, moving to kiss you on the cheek, before going back to sorting out the laundry.

Sighing, and knowing it was pointless to argue with your very stubborn Puppy, you shook your head and went back into the kitchen and started making breakfast for you both. You chuckled, feeling Henry's thick arms wrap around your waist and press his lips to your shoulder, nuzzling his face into your neck and squeezed you.

“Do you want potatoes?” You asked him, turning your head to kiss his lightly stubbly cheek.

“Yes, please.” Henry nodded, turning his head to capture your lips.

“How do you want your eggs?” You asked, moving away from him to pull out a knife and cutting board.

“Scrambled, please.” He replied, going into the fridge. “Are you having eggs?” He asked, looking back at you.

“Yeah.” You nodded, going into the pantry to grab two large potatoes, knowing Henry's titanic appetite. “Just one, though.” You added, going to the sink and washed the potatoes, before you started to peel them.

“One, it is!” Henry smiled, grabbing three eggs from the fridge. “Ooo, we still have some bacon left!” He grinned, and took out the package of three slices of bacon. “Can you stir this into my scramble?” He asked, holding them up for you to see.

“Yeah, can you take out whatever else you want in it?” You asked, dicing up the freshly peeled potatoes.

Henry took out the bacon, a couple of sausages and some Ricotta cheese, then carefully set them down next to you, on the counter with the eggs, as you finished cutting up the potatoes; the skillet warming on the stove.

“Henry.” You sighed, shaking your head, as Henry attached himself to you again.

You stood in front of the stove, Henry's arms wrapped snugly around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, as you cracked the eggs on the rim of the skillet and dropped them into the hot skillet; one handed. You carefully minded the three eggs you cracked in the pan, slowly adding in the cheese and diced up bacon, stirring them together into fluffy goodness. You added the cubed potatoes and sausages, the pop and sizzle of the grease filled the peacefully quiet kitchen. Henry gently swaying you both side to side and humming, happily.

Almost done with breakfast, Henry broke away from you and pulled out plates and silverware, so you could plate up your breakfasts, then sat with you on the couch. Snuggled into each other's sides, Henry clicked on the tv and you both watched the news as you ate.

“Oh, shit!” Henry snapped, half way through the news, and set his plate down on the coffee table with his fork. “I forgot to start the washer.” He said, rushing off to the laundry room.

A few moments later, the hissing sound of the machine turning on and beginning to fill with water filled the mews, before Henry returned to the couch, you and his breakfast, which you guarded from Kal's slick and covert attempts to eat it for him.

It was a sweet and lazy morning with Henry, empty breakfasts plates stacked on top of each other on the coffee table as you snuggled on the couch, watching whatever struck your collective fancy. But, the call of adult duties finally called you both, Henry needing to do his work out and you needed to wash the dirty plates.

You collected up the plates and silverware, and went into the kitchen, while Henry went to his elliptical. You set the plates in the sink and turned to grab the filthy skillet off the stove and got a huge shock.

“HENRY!!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, rushing into the laundry room.

“Babe!!” Henry yelled back, running into the kitchen, fully alarmed. “Wha—how the fuck!” He gasped, seeing the issue.

Inside the laundry room, there were nearly two feet of suds, flowing out of the still working washing machine. You stood at the door, soapy bubbles covering your bare feet as it flowed out of the laundry room door.

“Did you put a pod into the machine, when you finished putting the clothes in for me?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at Henry, just as alarmed.

“Um..” Henry gulped, his mouth hanging open and eyes huge as more bubbles flowed out of the laundry room. “Yeeah.”

“Oh dear.” You sighed, rubbing your face and shaking your head. “I had put one in the machine, before, I started putting the clothes in.” You confessed, stirring at the mess.

Henry moved forward, wading through the even higher mess of bubbles, shoving them aside to find the off button of the machine; stopping the production of the bubbles. You sighed again and joined him, blindly searching around for the front of the machine. Smirking, Henry collected a palm full of bubbles and playfully piled them on top of your head. You stood up and snorted at him, tapping him on the nose, getting bubbles on his face. He chuckled, scooped up some more of the bubbles, and blew them off his palm. You did the same, giggling with him.

“Uh-oh!” You laughed out loud.

Kal barked loudly rang out, him sensing he was being left out of all the fun, and dove into the mountain of bubbles, practically vanishing, minus his curly tail, swiping the bubbles side to side as it wagged, acting like a windshield wiper. Both, you and Henry, melted into a fit of laughter, blowing bubbles off your hands or throwing them at each other. Kal barked and jumped around, popping out of the mist of bubbled to tackle you, and shoved you into Henry's arms.

“Well, at least, we know the clothes will be extra clean.” Henry laughed, then kissed you, passionately.

[zelkams-art]

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To continue supporting content makers, this tag game is meant to show the entire process of making creative content: this can be for any creation.

RULES — When your work is tagged, show the process of its creation from planning to posting, then tag 5 people with a specific link to one of their creative works you’d like to see the process of. Use the tag #showyourprocess so we can find yours!

I was tagged by @milkcrates​, who showed her process of making this gorgeous piece with Wei Wuxian and little A-Yuan!! It was awesome to see how it came to life - and thank you for tagging me! ✨

So I got tagged to show how this Yunmeng brothers + golden core art happened! I already included the digital sketch for it in my sketch vs final compilation, but I guess I can show some more!

This is gonna be long because I like talking a lot, so putting the rest under a cut!

1. Planning

SO.  A golden core pic was on my to-draw list as soon as I finished watching the show. I had a WIP of a different pic for that waiting, but actually I noticed that a very similar thing has already been drawn, so that was kinda dropped. But I’m glad I waited until the idea for this one slapped me! It was pretty much a moment of “w a i t a second” and I had to grab a random piece of paper to sketch it while I still had it in my head.

This is the sketch - as you can see from the coffee stains, it has been through some stuff. On the left I actually tried out some different ideas for the golden core - the 1st one was the winner and led to the whole leaking/water/rain theme. I ended up mirroring the whole sketch because I didn’t want Wei Wuxian’s hand to cover Jiang Cheng’s front hair wisp, as that would make that area too crowded.

Meta-wise: I wanted to show that the whole thing was kept as a secret from Jiang Cheng. But we also knew about it - so Wei Wuxian is breaking the 4th wall and looking at us [the audience] directly, shushing to keep it a secret as well. Then there’s his hand hovering over the blindfold - it was included in the show, but also sprinkles in that extra symbolism. Then there’s the rain - the sky crying for the two brothers, so you’re not sure if those are raindrops or tears on their faces + lotus pond for the Yunmeng vibes. As for the golden core, I wanted to make it kinda messy and leaking like blood + shining and make it the main light source of the piece. Also kinda like a glow stick liquid.

I also like finding fitting music to go with my art and this one was actually supposed to go with Avicii’s Hey Brother, but when I was looking it up on Spotify I saw Kodaline’s Brother right above, gave it a listen and then the lyrics hit me. So I already knew that they’re gonna go in the caption. Also apparently it’s like The Song for them and yeah, makes sense.

2. Creating

2.1 Set up and tools

I use Paint Tool SAI + Wacom Intuos S to do all my art! The entire pic was made on a 2000 x 3000 px canvas, since I don’t like to work too big because of limited brush sizes in SAI + I don’t want to torture my laptop, as my art takes up quite a lot of processing power with a lot of layers and modes and sometimes things like to crash at the final steps 😬.

2.2 Planning and composition

So I started off by doing a digital sketch and focusing on the composition a bit more - I wanted something geometrical, so I went for the diamond shape with Wei Wuxian’s silhouette and the placement of the lotuses. Also the composition is vertical, all the important info is in the middle column - you could cut off 2/3 of the picture and it would still tell the story.

2.3 Lineart

Then I did the lineart over the sketch layer (there was a more detailed one than the “planning” sketch, but it looks like I deleted it once I finished). I usually draw more than I have to and on separate layers, so that I can move/modify things easily later - for example JC’s headpiece here didn’t really make it that much into the final piece but It Was There. Once I was satisfied with the lineart, I cleaned it by erasing overlapping things, like Wei Wuxian’s clothes behind Jiang Cheng’s head.  

2.4 Planning the lighting

After doing the lineart I blocked the characters with a single color and planned the lighting. The golden core is the main light source here, so it dictates which parts are gonna be lighter and which darker (although there is gonna some ambient occlusion from the background + reflected light from the water). I also added water and lotuses in the foreground + painted the background.

2.5 Shading the characters

After that, I started shading the pic. I usually do two steps here - one with “base” shading - focusing on the details and values based on the light source, then the mood shading with more coloring - based on the setting the characters are in. The first one is mostly done with the Multiply tool and base layer blending/painting, the second mostly with layer modes like Overlay and Luminosity. I also colored some parts of the lineart to make the shapes stand out (see: wwx’s front hairs)

2.6 Environment and touch-up details

Then it was time for the water and lotuses + the “special effects” for the rain and all the stuff associated with it - water splashes, mist, sparkling drops! Also some more mood lighting. Lots of new layers to keep everything organized and separated.

2.7 Finished pic

And done! After finishing I usually adjust the contrast/gamma/saturation of my art (or just edit it all in curves) + sometimes sharpen it to bring out details → I make a few different versions and pick the one that works the best. Although with this pic I was satisfied with the raw result so no major changes happened.

3. Posting

For posting I always scale down the pictures and upload them as a draft on this art blog. Then I check if things look okay on mobile as well - from what I’ve noticed my phone makes everything more warm-toned. Depending on the time I finish drawing, I either post it right away or wait until the next day, when there is more traffic on tumblr. I finished this one around 8PM of my local time, which is fine - so I posted it right away (also I was just excited, couldn’t wait 😅)!

As caption I used the lyrics from Brother by Kodaline, as mentioned before!

So yeah, that would be it! 

If you made it till this part - thank you and I hope you have an awesome day! ✨

Let’s keep the artist vibes here - I’m gonna tag (not 5 ppl but shh) @still-snowing​ and this piece that still breaks my heart @driszol​ and this Song Jiyang pic that lives in my head to this day @kushexi​​ and this pic with fox Wei Wuxian and A-Yuan bc it still makes me melt → no pressure of course! or if you want to do some other piece that’s awesome as well!

[kettlequills]

The Reachfolk had always operated under looser definitions of alive than most. They called them Laataazin the Undying, which was almost certainly a brand of that particular cruel hag humour. But Laat did not mind.

Their heart did not beat, now. They felt no hunger, no thirst. The sun on their skin was faint. Sensation was muted, and the heart in their chest rubbed away the hard edges of living to leave a soft numbness. It enveloped them and washed their days into grey eternities, unbordered by the needs of the living.

It was difficult to mind much.

The other Hearts saw this as a blessing, of somesuch. It did not provoke one to linger on what they had lost, and what they had gained in trade. A Heart was never purposeless, not with a hag matriarch to protect and serve. But it gave some comfort during the long, lonely hours where the only company was the quiet murmur of the falling rain that they could hear, but not feel.

Laat kept guard, with the other Hearts, while the hags nested. They sat crosslegged on a platform far above the sleepful dots of the redoubt encampment, near the ashes of what had been a sentry's fire. Now skulls watched the mountain passes with hollow eyes, and Hearts watched the stone wearied steps with hollow minds.

Moira slept curled around the unmoving valleys of Laat's hips and thighs, so Laat kept one hand on her skinny back and the other on a hand-axe they could have hurled halfway across the camp even alive. Their gaze, unblinking, unbroken, poured out over the sunlit dawning.

If Akatosh wept for his child, the sun did not show it. Wreathed with pink and gold, the rising sun was resplendent, eternal, effervescent. The winking stars in the canopy did not protest their overshadowment but remained there, invisible, unseen, washed over by the flagrant currents of light and beauty.

Laat, hovering in Moira's shadow, understood their cold points.  They outlasted the warmth and verve of the living, and when night fell, it revealed them. Watching. Waiting.

They did not mind.

Moira's waking was never gentle, these days. With half a scream or all a cry, she shook and shivered and wept in her sleep as she roused. Her shriek had a raven's bitterness and a woman's grief. She twisted to look at them. In that interrupted moment halfway between sleep and wakefulness, her fear was naked as her skin, unclothed now she walked in a Forsworn settlement, and slept in her lover's dead, sleepless furs. Only feathers and silver and a necklace of wood and ruby adorned her, that and the dawn, which touched her feathers gold and purple, and her dark eyes like wells. Her hair was a waterfall, waved from loosened braids, her skin rumpled and waxed from sleep.

Her claws cut Laat's skin when she grabbed them and tore shallow scrapes down their fleshy bicep. The wounds did not bleed, but oozed a dark tar.

"You awful beast," she hissed between loving teeth, and her clawed grip tightened - her human palm, warm and muscled, curving around Laat's arm. Steady with the constant movement and pulsing of her flesh, the heat, the struggle of life that pounded in her birdhearted chest. "You scared me so. I dreamt you gone."

Feelings were distant as mist, soft as water. They ghosted away from Laat's mind like ships scudding across the harbour, like flecks of ash carried on snow. They lifted their palms and Moira's face fit there like a puzzle piece, and her lashes fluttered closed over eyes that shone like jewels.

When she touched them, the briar heart she had bound with magic and twine ached in their chest, in the bloody wound where their own had once beat. It was the magic that sustained them, recognising it's maker in the hag that had dropped a lifetime of enmity with her mother's clan and forced a dying body adragonback to die not in the nest Laat had crawled to in their final hours but a cold altar in the Reach, instead.

They had died there, and woken a moon later, when the working was done. Neither dead, nor alive, they did not heal, they did not decay. Their body, exposed as it was in light leathers, was scarred by a hundred small catches of Moira's claws when she crawled into their arms to rest, a quivering fluff of birdbones and feather and the slow warmth of an ember in their arms. Laat reflected her heat and the chill of the stars both, cool to the touch and inert as stone. But Moira did not make a nest for herself like the other hags, or commandeer a fur tent, or a bedmate whose beating heart kept her warm. Instead she complained and huffed and fought her way into Laat's listless hold, as if nothing had changed at all.

Through the night, the briar heart would ache like a fresh cut, like the deathwound it should have been. But loyally, dutifully - perhaps, once, lovingly - they held their wife in their arm, and a handaxe in the other, and watched the night pass into day.

And Laat told the stars that they did not mind. No, they did not mind at all.

[tumblingdowntheway2019]

Sleepless Nights, Part One (1).

Heelloooo my beautiful pps, how are we all today? Back again with another Head-Canon. 💪😎💕

So this one is when Donna is adopted by Lady Dimitriscu as a new daughter. This is based on the wonderful @charlottefairchildbranwell's story based on a couple of my Head-Canons. Go check check her out, charlottefairchildbranwell wrote some amazing and entertaining stories for them! Here is a link to one of them.

WARNING: BELOW THE CUT, THIS POST WILL CONTAIN TRIGGERS, MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION/PTSD/PANIC ATTACKS/GORE, CHILD TRAUMA, TRAUMATIC EVENTS, ETC.

I MAY NOT BE GOOD AT WRITING THESE THINGS, BUT EVEN THEN IT'S BETTER TO WARN YOU.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

With that said, let's begin. Sorry in advance.

😭🙏

LADY DIMITRISCU'S P.O.V.

It had been over a year since Donna started living in Castle Dimitrescu. A full year since Mother Miranda's reign had come to an end.

Things have been going so well for the Doll Maker. She gained more confidence, can hold a conversation with her family and even the Winters' Family without the aid of Angie anymore.

The Lady of the Castle however, began noticing something strange happening with Donna lately. It was small things, but they became more noticeable as of late.

Donna has been more sluggish in her movements, making small and silly mistakes in her everyday tasks and had been spotted dozing off whilst in the middle of tasks or activities.

Lady Dimitrescu tried to ask many times if she was ok, but Donna has been dodging the questions. Her daughters and Angie noted that she was unable to sleep a full night the past few days, but hasn't explained why.

The fact that Angie doesn't have that usual strong mental connection to her closest friend is worrying. But Angie had mentioned at the beginning that these happen occasionally and it will pass soon enough.

DONNA'S P.O.V

It's happening again, she knew it was too good to be true. The nightmares are back with a vengeance.

Donna deliberately severed most of her connection with Angie as to not draw attention to herself. She hates it.

Those nightmares, no, memories? She can't tell now. They are just too real to tell.

The Doll Maker doesn't know what triggered this, but she didn't want to worry her family.

She tried to act normal in order to to fend off any suspicion, but she was just so tired. Mistakes over simple tasks have been more noticeable.

Naps are too and far between during the day. The Bat Trio had been trying to cheer her up, Donna's been doing her best to keep them happy. It was a good distraction for a while.

Unfortunately, the nightmares had been making sure that Donna didn't forget in the waking world.

LADY DIMITRISCU'S P.O.V

Lady Dimitriscu had been keeping a closer eye on her daughter. Made sure to be close by should anything happen.

She observed that Donna has been flinching at random shadows or reflections, dozing off with book in hand, nearly dropping it as she jerked herself up and shaking her head.

Something's wrong, but Donna won't speak about it and won't be forced to.

It had been like any other night, Angie decided to join in on a sleepover with the Bat Trio in the Dungeons.

They wanted to tell scary stories and those particular dungeons was always warm enough for them to stay down there.

It had been in the middle of the night, The Lady had been reading one of the many books, ones that she had read many times before.

She was about to turn the oil lantern off when the sound of breaking glass caused her hand to freeze just inches from the dial.

Sharpening her sense, Alcina close her eyes to allow her to focus more on her hearing.

Quiet hitches of breathing was heard.

DONNA'S P.O.V

The Doll Maker woke with a start, it hasn't even been an hour yet. She couldn't even hold onto Angie as she allowed the Bride Doll to go hang out with Bela, Cassandra and Daniela.

It felt all too real. It started off pleasant enough. Donna was in House Beneviento again, opening the door revealed her mother in a rocking chair, knitting.

Donna approached her, hesitant to reach out to the unaware woman.

A call of another girl caught their attention. They look up to see a teenage girl, who was the spitting image of a younger Donna.

"Bernadette?" She quietly says.

Bernadette comes skipping down, unaware of her younger sister's presence as she skips down the stairs and through Donna, as if she were made of mist.

Donna turns to see Bernadette skip off to meet her friends in the village. Their mother calling after her to be sure to return home before the sun begins to set.

In her near forgotten instinct, The Doll Maker silently makes her way to the elevator.

When she entered the elevator, the button was level with her elbow. Something that came in handy as she was always carrying materials that requires both hands to hold.

The elevator reached the basement, she found that everything was bigger than before.

As she walked down the hallway, Donna barely caught her reflection off the glass cabinet. The bottom of the glass was just at eye level.

Upon looking at her reflection, a young girl stared back with her two (2) dark brown eyes. She was a little girl again, maybe no older than seven (7) years old?

She continued to the end of the hallway and through one of the double doors and found her father hunched over one of his latest creations.

Donna knew what was about to happen next, it didn't surprise her any more. She begins to back away as her father slowly sets down his tools.

"Why?" He hoarsely croaked out as dripping sounds were heard. "Why did you do this to us?"

Donna tried to push against the shut door with all her might, but her small frame barely made it budge.

She looked over her shoulder, gasping and began to shake as her father's bloated corpse stood up slowly, movements strongly resembling a puppet being pulled by their strings.

Small waterfalls were coming through the walls and ceiling as father trudged through the ankle deep water.

With one final charge, Donna finally burst through the door and makes a bee-line toward the elevator. The water rising all around her.

Streams of water burst through the ceiling in many spots. Some appearing with such force in front of her that Donna nearly lost her footing on a few occasions.

Her father close behind in his pursuits as the water appeared to allow him to glide in the rising water.

The water was now at the young girl's knees by the time she reached the elevator.

How did the button get so high up?!

After many frantic attempts, Donna successfully jumps up and up against the elevator's wall to press the button.

The grated door shuts, her father's blue, bloated corpse stared at her with angry bloodshot eyes as he slammed and pulled against the grate.

The water descending and emptying the higher the elevator went. Leaving behind a mostly soaked to the bones Donna.

The elevator dutifully opens on the ground floor, Donna reluctantly steps out. The Doll Maker once again knows what's coming next as she trekked through the hallway.

Opening the door to the Living Room, she found her Mother, standing and looking at the ground with a sharpened out knitting needles in each hand.

Eyes filled with rage look up at her as her mother raises her head, voiceless as her mother's mouth moved. But she heard it so many times before that Donna knew what she was saying.

"Your fault."

"Your fault."

"Your fault."

Barely able to dodge the sudden attack, Donna sprints to the front door. Last obstacle.

Bernadette, now aged twenty-one (21) was now blocking the entrance.

END OF PART ONE (1)

_____________________

Edit: Heyo pps, edited some errors, finished the last point and took away the extra blank ones to helps space it out better. Tags were also added in.

A/N - You guys are gonna laugh, I didn't intend on posting this until later. I accidentally posted it before the last point (Bernadette being at the entrance) was done and no tags. 🤣🤣

But I am glad I did, however. Cause this would have been so much longer and I didn't want to bore you guys with so many points. So a part two (2) will be out later on, either tonight or tomorrow. 🤔 Sorry about that. 🤣

Hope you all enjoyed Part One (1) of 'Sleepless Nights.'

Remember, if you wish to use this or the ideas/H.Cs mentioned above, you are always free to do so under the conditions that you credit back to this and myself. That and to please tag me when you are done because I would love to see how it was able to help you out in your stories/art!!

💪😎💕

Hope you all have a wonderful day/afternoon/evening my lovelies!💪😎💕

Part Two (2) linked here! 💕🥰💕

[eve6262]

gwen is lost

Everyone has somewhere to go.

Senna and Lucian hunt Thresh, Vayne joining them. Olaf returns to the Freljord, Pyke to his waters and Graves to the port, Rengar to his jungle- Riven and Irelia both to Ionia, surprisingly. Akshan prefers the desert air, and thus starts trying to repair the sentinel bases starting with Shurima, but Gwen?

Gwen has nowhere to go. Nowhere she was, really, aside from looking around fruitlessly in the black mist for Viego. Now that he’s gone, she has nothing left but a bit of joy and the faint memory of, in a last moment, seeing Isolde once more as a spirit. She could help them with the hunt for Thresh, but she fears she would only be another soul for him to capture.

She has no way to fight a man that powerful. Senna, Lucian, Vayne, they’re all experienced hunters. But Gwen only knows how to fight very vaguely, and snips and slashes are her forte, not tracking and traps and the like. On this very journey it’s been proven, from the mistakes she’s made and the assumptions that have been so very wrong.

The memory of fear still strikes deep into her heart.

She decides, eventually, to simply see the world for herself. Pick a spot, and start there, and simply go places, experience the world however she pleases. Eventually, she’ll find somewhere that needs a seamstress of her exceptional talent, and then she’ll finally have a home.

She hopes.

Piltover is the place she starts in, because their shops are simply wonderful and that parasol looked absolutely gorgeous when she wasn’t concentrated on its status as a fetter. Upon arrival she sees some remnants of the mist, surely, but largely the streets are still there. Aristocrats look worriedly around as they take the corner, scared another drop of mist is going to take over the city again. Their children are less frightened, until one of them spots the darling doll with giant scissors and rushes behind their mother.

“What is it- oh my! You’re- you have it!”

“Have what, Miss?”

“The- the mist! The Black Mist!”

“Oh, not at all! This is the Hallowed Mist- very different, I assure you.”

Nonetheless the woman looks like she’s about to faint, and there’s a large commotion from the people around her. A hextech-colored voice cuts through the panic.

“What is this, now?”

The crowd immediately quiets, and silently parts for a woman with grey hair and a loose blouse that does nothing to conceal the metal body she’s got below the neck, complete with two blades for legs. They remind distinctly of scissors when she walks, back and forth like they could cut so easily through fabric.

“What sharp blades! You must tell me how you don’t end up cutting everything you wear.”

“I don’t wear anything that they could cut.” Her eyes narrow. “Who are you?”

“I am Gwen.”

“Last name?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Don’t tell me, then. I’ll find out.”

“If you do find one, please tell me! I’m terribly curious.”

“What are you?”

“A doll! Or a seamstress. Which one were you asking about?”

“Not human?”

“I don’t believe so, no. Unless I was turned into a human by the Hallowed Mist.”

“Hmph.” The woman tosses a lock of hair out of her face. “Come with me.”

So she does, follows the lady down the alleys and streets of Piltover. At the mere sight of her people rush to get out of her way, clearly wanting nothing to do with the woman, but Gwen is only concocting ways to make a blouse with no bottoms look fashionable. Maybe something simple, like a piece with sleeves to her elbows and a flowy bottom so it doesn’t look like it should be tucked in somewhere or ends in a strange silhouette.

Finally, they get to a towering mansion, and the lady throws up some kind of gesture Gwen doesn’t recognize. Suddenly, there’s wires shooting out from her hips, and she attaches to a wall and quickly starts to scale it.

“I suppose she wants me to follow?” She mounts her scissors and quickly follows, though she’s proven wrong when, after entering through a window, the woman turns around and is shocked by the development.

“You can fly?”

“In a way. My scissors can, and I can ride them.

“...Alright, then. Come in. I’ll make you some tea.”

“Ooh, who was that woman who Akshan said liked tea? Shadya, was it?”

The woman looks at her strangely, but continues in. “Sit,” she asks, motioning to a small table with two chairs, and so she does.

While presumably boiling water, the woman looks over to her guest appraisingly. Gwen does her best to look pretty, though she thinks her clothes already to that for her; Isolde’s final gift, she thinks. Joy, skill with a needle and thread, and a beautiful outfit to fit. Finally, she speaks.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Piltover.”

“More specifically.”

“Your home?”

“Who am I?”

“I haven’t a clue.”

“...Camille.”

“Well then, very nice to meet you, Miss Camille!”

The teapot whistles, and so the woman goes to pour it out. She balances so perfectly on the blades that make up her legs that Gwen can’t help but imagine her doing ballet, carefully slicing her way through the stage in a gorgeous dress made of material that’s suspended by magic. Oh, it would be such a sight.

Thankfully, though she can’t eat proper things, she can drink tea. It tastes like regal refinement and a little like memories- perhaps her maker liked this flavor.

After a few sips, Camille speaks again. “Well, then. You must have a story to tell.”

“I do, if you’d like to hear it!”

“Absolutely.”

And so for maybe the next hour or so Gwen recounts her journey with the sentinels, starting from when she found Lucian and Senna all the way to Veigo’s imprisonment in her impeccable sewing and with plenty of boasting about her own skills in making outfits for each and every sentinel. Even Pyke, the slippery thing, who seemed all to happy to put on the clothes when she showed them off to him, citing something about water making the threads in his clothes all thick.

She almost thinks she won’t be able to tell her about Isolde, but she manages without her voice cracking and only a few pauses. Finally, she leaves out Thresh for the most part, only explaining that the Black Mist still exists because he does.

When she stops, and looks quizzically at the woman, there’s a certain pensive look on her face. “I see,” says Camille, considering what to follow that with.

“If I may, you seem like you have quite the story as well, what with those legs! Would you tell it to me?”

She almost says something, but hesitates. Closes her mouth, then opens it again. “Alright.”

And she begins.

----

literally in the middle of writing "she's in piltover and a woman goes OH MY GOD" I go "what if camille and gwen" so here's the bit

~Eve6262

[arya-skywalker]

One man’s trash is another man’s treasure (Sanders Sides Oneshot)

Soulmate September Day 3 - You have an animal that only you and your soulmate can see.

@tsshipmonth2020

Ship: Dukexiety

AU: generic human soulmates AU (the animal companions here communicate telepathically with their human, but not their human’s soulmate)

TW: spiders, oversized spider, tentacles, unspecified tentacle creature

~*~

Virgil turned up the volume of his music as he wandered to the docks, drawing his jacket close to ward off the brisk sea breeze. The seaweed stench was stronger than usual, but he couldn’t resist the allure of the mist rising from the water.

Except he wasn’t alone. The young man scowled and took off his headphones, turning to look at the source of splashing.

A weird dude was throwing fish at the end of the dock. “Eat up buttercup! Yeah there you go!” he cheered.

Virgil blinked, then walked closer, curiosity overcoming caution for the moment. He had heard rumors of the village idiot— that the man would eat anything, that he was a werewolf, that he had a basement full of bodies, that he talked to ghosts....

He froze once he saw what the man was feeding. There was terrifying tentacle creature catching the fish. Octopus? Giant squid? A kraken? Cthulhu? Virgil’s jaw dropped as he stared. And the creature waved.

The man turned and grinned. “You see him too, huh? Guess I’m not crazy after all! C’mon, he doesn’t bite. You can help feed him if ya want.”

“I... you.... crazy, right,” Virgil stammered, shaking his head. “Uh, no thanks. I’ll stay back here.”

“Well, I’m Remus! And if you can see Duke, then I’m pretty sure that means you’re my soulmate!” He stuck out a slimy hand to shake, his grin broadening.

Virgil blinked. “Wait... what? He’s your....?” He took a small step back. “No, no, no... fuck no!”

Remus shrugged. “Well, where’s your buddy? Your animal companion? If I can see them, then the bond goes both ways, right?”

“Uhh.... I guess....” Virgil ran a hand through his hair, then sighed. “*Ara? You wanna come out?*”

“*Coming!*” her voice chimed in his mind. A rather large but fuzzy spider skittered over and stopped by his side, nuzzling his hand. “*So he’s the one?*”

“Oooh a spider! That’s rad, dude!” Remus bounced up and down.

Virgil groaned and dropped down to sit on the edge of the dock, guiding the cat-sized spider onto his lap. “Soulmates are a flawed concept anyway,” he muttered, stroking Ara’s bristles. “Some ‘higher power’ playing match-maker for us poor mortals.”

“Well... I’m not strict or anything.” Remus sat down a few inches away. “A lot of people don’t really like me. So if you don’t, I don’t blame you. And if you wanna leave, I won’t stop you. But, well, something wants us together so that’s gotta mean something, right?”

Virgil didn’t answer, staring out at the waves. He never wanted a soulmate. He never tried to find his. And yet... here they were. Stuck together forever.

“*Breathe. In for four seconds, hold for seven, out for eight,*” Ara’s voice chimed in his head, one of her legs tapping rhythmically on his arm to keep count. Virgil closed his eyes, grateful for her grounding presence as always. The soft roar of the sea and distant call of gulls were the only sounds to break the silence.

Eventually, Virgil looked back at his new-found soulmate. Bright green eyes stared at him, concern and curiosity shining through. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s weird,” Virgil grumbled.

Remus shrugged. “Well, you got a name? Or should I just call you emo?” He giggled a bit.

“Emo is fine.” He hesitated a moment, then blew his bangs out of his face. “But my name is Virgil.”

“Virgil eh? Cool name.” Remus smiled and stuck out his hand again. “Nice to officially meet my soulmate!”

Reluctantly, Virgil shook the weirdo’s hand, then quickly wiped his hand off on his pants to get rid of the fishy slime. Shower tonight, definitely. “So.... I guess if we’re stuck together for eternity, we might as well get to know each other,” he said after a few minutes.

“Ask away! I’m an open book.” Remus grinned and lay on the dock. “We can take turns asking stuff if you want.”

Virgil rubbed his arms. “Uh.... alright.” He glanced around for ideas. “So... what do you do? Like for a job.”

“Fisherman mostly,” Remus said with a shrug. “Duke helps.” He smirked and sat up. “And I pick up trash and stuff, then turn it into art. Wanna see?”

“Guess it couldn’t hurt.” Virgil grunted and stood. “Is that your question?”

Remus giggled and hopped to his feet. “Nope! But either way, you asked a non-question too, so we’re even! C’mon, c’mon!” He jogged down the dock.

A few minutes later, they arrived at a rather run-down shack overlooking the bay. Buoys were tied to netting along the walls and a chipped sign read, “Kraken’s Grotto: tack, art, and treasure”. Remus held the door open, bouncing up and down again. Virgil rolled his eyes and stepped inside, then blinked and looked around.

The place was a mess. But on closer inspection, it was an organized mess. Sculptures made of scrap metal in one area. Other recycled art in another. Shells and sea glass by the window. Bait and tackle and other fishing gear near the counter. Virgil stopped by a metal dragon with eyes of sea-glass. “You... made all this?”

“Yepper-doodles!” Remus grinned. “All from stuff Dukey and I find around the area. You like art?”

Virgil shrugged. “Uh, yeah. It’s cool,” he said. “Sometimes I sketch stuff. Doodling helps me focus.”

“Doodling is the best, man. What kinda stuff do you doodle?” Remus sat on the counter, kicking his legs out.

“Just... stuff. It’s stupid.”

“We don’t like using that word here,” Remus said, suddenly serious. “Nothing is stupid. Just different.”

Ara bumped up against Virgil’s leg. “*I like him. Give him a chance.*”

Virgil reached down to pet his animal companion with a sigh. “Whatever. Not stupid.” He looked back at the sculptures, noticing that most were monsters of some sort— skeletons and tentacle creatures, grotesque mutations, grim reapers. “Umm... you like horror stuff?”

“Hell yeah! The darker the better!” Remus hopped off the counter. “What’s your favorite monster?”

“I’m a sucker for vampires,” Virgil said, then blushed heatedly and coughed. Stupid pun. Terrible. Corny...

But before he could stammer out an apology, he realized Remus was laughing. Full on belly-laughs. Pounding the counter with his fists and crying tears of mirth.

Virgil swept his bangs out of his face. “You... uh.... like puns and stuff?” he asked tentatively when it seemed like Remus had gotten himself under control.

“Dude I love that kind of humor!” Remus giggled again, then looked down at the spider. “Hey, can I pet her? I promise I won’t be rough.”

“*I don’t mind,*” Ara said, nuzzling Virgil’s hand.

“Uhhh.... sure. But go wash your hands first! They’re gross, dude. And I’ll show you how to pet her without hurting her.”

“Yay!” Remus clapped his hands, then ran off, presumably to the bathroom.

Virgil lowered himself to sit on the floor, running a hand lightly against the worn wood slats. Ara curled up on his lap, chittering softly.

It wasn’t long before Remus returned, sitting across from with a grin. “Squeaky clean!” he said, holding up his hands.

Virgil rolled his eyes, then sighed, stroking his spider gently. “Alright, so, you need to stroke along the bristles. If you try to go against them, you’ll get pricked and it might hurt her. Got it?”

Remus nodded excitedly, then reached out and repeated the motion, as if afraid he’d break her. “Like this? Is this good?” he asked.

Ara leaned into their touch, making happy purr-like sounds. “*Tell your soulmate he’s doing well.*”

Virgil coughed. “Uh, yeah, that’s right,” he said, feeling a ghost of a smile. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

[imperiuswrecked]

                               ATLANTEAN PANTHEON

Long before Atlantis sank into the sea it was Golden City and an Empire that stretched across the world. This is the History of Atlantis, before and after, the Cataclysm which sank it beneath the waves.

Namor Week - Day 3 - Mythology

This is a worldbuilding fic and a it is canon and headcanon based. This lists out all the known details of the History of Marvel's Atlantis, and includes Neptune & Cleito, as well as their children who are all original characters of mine. I tired to use as much known lore as possible when writing this. 

Atlantean Pantheon

Neptune - God of the Sea, God of Waters, Lord of Horses, Father Ocean, Old Man of the Sea, Lord of all Things Below, King of the Deep

Neptune has blue skin and white hair with black eyes that cover his sclera and irises, he has gills on his neck and pointed ears. He wears a white toga and a golden circlet on his brow. He wields Neptune's trident. He is solidly built in form and his cape is a fish net. His white hair is a tangled mess and he has a long white beard.

He is as terrifying as the sea and just as unpredictable. He rules over all the oceans and sea life that inhabit it. He derives strength from prayers sent to him by the Atlantean people as well as humans who know of him, often in modern times Sea Faring people such as human fishermen and sailors also send him prayers.

Neptune is closely tied to the physical world, especially that of the sea. The oceans being hurt, harms him and over the centuries with constant pollution he has a shadow of his former strength. Which is why he does not often appear to help Atlanteans, often needing to conserve his strength lest he fades away into the awning black Ether of the Forgotten Realm where Chaos resides.

Cleito - Mother of All Things, Goddess of Fertility & Childbirth, Lady of Undying Things, Embodiment of Illusions, Maker of Dreams, Mistress of the Shroud, Keeper of the Nexus Fragment, Moon Mother, Queen of the Golden City

Cleito has golden skin and amber eyes, her hair is tree branches that grow pretty flower blossoms, all of different types. Depending on her mood the flowers are either in full bloom or decaying. She has pointed ears and her fingernails are like black claws, she has fangs.

She is wrapped in her black Shroud which is dotted with different colored gems, which are the souls of dead Atlanteans of the past waiting for her to pluck them from the shroud and send them into their next reincarnation cycle. The Shroud looks like the night sky and the gems are like Stars.

She is the Weaver of Dreams and Illusions and gives hope to her children. Often appearing in the visage of the Moon she watches over her descendants and those who pray to her. Her place of power is the Golden City which was once the capital of the Empire of Atlantis, however it now resides decaying beneath the waves in a forgotten place. Cleito often sleeps in her palace tomb to conserve her energy since she lost much power during the Cataclysm when she used her abilities to change her children’s people into permanent water breathers. It is guarded by her father Evenor who is a sea dragon spirit. She awakens very rarely before returning to her healing sleep.

Unlike Neptune, Cleito is not closely tied to reality of the world but rather to an embodiment of ideas and dreams, she works her magic and powers through the Nether Realms.

She is the Keeper of the Nexus Fragment; Long ago the Nexus connected all realities but it was fragmented due to a power struggle for control of it, its pieces fell into different realities. Some were absorbed by the souls of people and they became Nexus beings, able to use the power of the Nexus to alter realities or create pathways between worlds. Other fragments became glowing orbs of light which were collected by beings of power to protect them or lay in long forgotten places, waiting to be found. Only beings of divine power (or touched/blessed by a divine power) can contain a Nexus without injury and only they can pass a fragment onto others.

Evenor - Sea Dragon Spirit, With a face like a seahorse and a body of a long snake like dragon he most closely resembles dragon figures of the Eastern surface world. His scales are grey and white and he has a mustache like white hair from his nostrils as well as ridges down his back and long sharp white claws on his hands and feet. His eyes swirl like an ocean whirlpool, to look in them is to be lost. He travels between the spirit world and the real world.

He dedicates his time to protecting his daughter Cleito. He can turn corporal in his dragon form if he desires. He has untold strength and abilities as he is very mysterious and keeps his secrets close. Atlanteans pray to Evenor for protection against bad spirits.

History of Atlantis before the Cataclysm

Neptune was the sea, formed within its roiling waters he manifested physical form, with hair and beard as white as sea foam, skin as blue as the water, and eyes as dark as the black depths beneath the waves. He carries with him, his magical Trident which controls the waters. He has complete mastery over the oceans and all those who dwell within it. His favor is as fickle as the sea, his personality is as ever changing as the ocean. He grants favors to those he sees fit to receive them.

Cleito was born of her father and her human mother, spirit and reality came together in her form and she walked between both worlds as a child before choosing to dwell in the spirit world of her father, she learned all there was to know of places outside of reality. She is the pure embodiment of Illusions and is a being of great power. While Neptune may be more well known Cleito dwells in the worlds behind worlds and watches over her people, only stepping in in dire circumstances.

While Neptune ruled the Seas, she was Queen of the Golden City which was once the hub and center of the Empire of Atlantis.

Neptune and Cleito had children, five sets of twins, who became the Ten Kings and Queens of the Atlantean Empire. To celebrate their children the God & Goddess gave them land to care for, it’s people looked to them not only as their deities but also their rulers.

The Ten, as they would later be remembered, were; Vyncia & Kysine, Ozak & Otia, Sevgi & Rejuat, Teinbo & Zarusal, Mverix & Narxis. They would go on to have children of their own who were part water breathers, and part air breathers. With one human parent any descendant of Neptune and Cleito’s blood were blessed with abilities.  The Atlantean Empire and most especially the Golden City thrived with technology and innovation, peace and prosperity, and all the knowledge they could record for future generations. The most advanced of their time they were a powerful nation. Much of the knowledge is lost after the Great Cataclysm.

Vyncia & Kysine - Daughters, Twins, Goddesses of Fresh Waters

African Models should be pictured for these characters

Vyncia - Goddess of Surging Waters, Lady of Streams & Rivers

Kysine - Goddess of Tranquil Waters, Lady of the Lake

Ozak & Otia - Twins - Brother & Sister

East Asian models should be pictured for these characters

Ozak - God of Deep Waters, Drowning, Death

Otia - Goddess of Tide Pools, Tides, & Unexpected Fortune

Sevgi & Rejuat - Twins - Sister & Brother

Caucasian/Nordic/Irish/Scottish models should be pictured for these characters

Sevgi - Goddess of Dew & Mist, Marsh Maiden

Rejuat - God of Bogs & Marshes, Trickster

Teinbo & Zarusal - Twins - Brother & Sister

Middle Eastern/Indian models should be pictured for these models

Teinbo - God of Hot Springs & Healing, Wisdom

Zarusal - Goddess of Rain, Rainbows, & Rainstorms, Monsoon Bringer

Mverix & Narxis - Sons, Brothers - Twins, Gods of Salt Water

Pacific Islander/Native models should be pictured for these characters

Mverix - God of Sea Storms, Sea Foam & Sea Farers

Narxis - God of Sea Creatures, Sea Life & Plants

History of Atlantis during & after the Cataclysm

Set the Evil Serpent God, and his devoted followers, The Lemurians, waged war on the Atlantean Empire, Neptune & Cleito in order to gain control of the Nexus Fragment. Cleito lead many of the fights and was badly injured due to Set’s trickery however during an earth shattering battle with the Gods, Neptune was imprisoned in a wall of everlasting fire and forced to watch as Set attempted to rip the Nexus Fragment from Cleito’s heart, their Ten Children came from all over the Empire to fight Set and they sacrificed their lives to save their mother. Set enraged at their daring and attempts to defeat him, orders his people to slay the remaining descendants of the Ten. The Lemurians follow Set’s orders with Suma-Ket and Artys-Gran leading them. Killing all direct blood descendants and using their blood to fuel Set with more dark power.

Neptune and Cleito attempt to regain their strength however Neptune, upon learning his children are dead, snaps and gathers every reserve of water, every drop that he could command and begins to drown the world. Gaia the Earth Goddess, upset from all the turmoil awakens and causes huge earthquakes to break Atlantis’s Golden CIty away from the mainland separating it from the rest of the Empire. Neptune drowns much of the Earth and the entire nation of Lemuria, his fury is uncontainable and his tidal wave sweeps towards Atlantis.

Cleito seeing last of her children’s descendants in danger, (many of them demi-gods/goddesses due to them having one human parent) uses a huge quantity of her reserve magic to give them aid and protect them from the destruction; Cleito sinks the now isolated Island of Atlantis beneath the waves. Only those with the capabilities to breath beneath the water survived, they would go on to evolve and become better adapted to their new underwater home. Thus they are now only known as Atlanteans, the last people splinter over time and make their homes all over the oceans.

Set engaged Cleito and Neptune in battle for the last time. All the death of the descendants of Neptune fuels the blood magic that gives Set even more strength and he begins to overpower Neptune and Cleito. Seeing that Set was not satisfied with all the death and that he still wished to carve out Cleito’s heart and gain control of the Nexus Fragment, convinces Cleito to use the last remaining power within her and she banished Set and his highest ranking followers, Suma-Ket & Artys-Gran into the Ether. The underwater portal to their prison was sealed with a door that could only be opened by one who has the Royal Blood of Neptune. Cleito, exhausted beyond all measure, succumbs to a deep healing sleep, and her father Evenor takes her below the seas to her sunken temple, its whereabouts now lost to time, to be protected forever more. Neptune recedes beneath the waves to rejuvenate and neither are seen for centuries before they are awakened by their youngest descendant, Namor the First of Atlantis.

Those Lemurians who followed Set and were left behind used dark magic to transform themselves into water breathers in order to search for a way to bring their master back to them, they spend several thousands of years combing the ocean floor for the location of the Blood Gate, and Cleito, so they may gain the Nexus Fragment and find a means to bring Set back to Earth. Since the great Cataclysm the Atlanteans and Lemurians have been at war. While Lemuria languished in dreams of the past, Atlantis looked towards the future and the preservation of their people.

[masterwords]

The Years Burn

Summary: Hotch stops at his father’s grave and sleeps at his mom’s house as he heads home alone from Ohio.  (Coda to The Angel Maker 04x02)

Warnings: child abuse (past)

Pairings: None

Words: 2.8k

**

It wasn't raining, exactly.  Drizzling wasn't quite right either.  There was a quiet mist blowing through the air, coating the skin but not soaking it.  He felt sticky.  Aaron couldn't remember stranger weather but it was somehow fitting.  

“Why do I come here?” he asked no one in particular, laying out his blanket beside a rotting headstone.  No one came by to pull the weeds back with any regularity, no one freshened up flowers, it was just there with crumbling edges and moss in the cracks.  Somehow fitting. His blanket was worn, Army issue wool with small holes letting blades of grass peek through and he picked at them mindlessly while he sat. Once a year, he sat here, not on any particular day – any day would do.  He needed to remind himself, to sit with the past and he couldn't tell you when it had happened but one year, the anger ceased.  He would come to this spot and he would rage inwardly at the man buried beneath his feet, he would lay blame or weep and throw all of his torment at the dusty old bones below.  And then one year, the rage melted away, leaving only a bitter sadness in it's wake as he remembered the good times mixed into the bad times.  This year, he was on his way back from Lower Canaan, Ohio to Quantico, driving by himself and somehow he'd just ended up here.  He'd done what Rossi suggested, stretched it out a few days, but he was pretty sure that visiting his father's grave hadn't been exactly what his friend meant.  He'd never been great at following directions.  

“Do you remember when you taught me to ride my bike?” As if the bones were listening, he spoke.  His voice was quiet, serious as the grave. “You took me to Jake's Bar, to the parking lot because there weren't any paved roads around our house at that time.  Back and forth for hours, you ran with me, pushed me, watched me go.  You wiped my skinned knees on your shirt and told me how tough I was. How proud you were.  When Jake showed up and opened the bar, you went inside for a beer and pretty soon all of your friends were outside cheering me on as I rode by myself around and around that parking lot.  I was on top of the world.”

He paused, and the small smile that had formed at the memory faded, his face went serious.  “I forgave you for leaving me out there, you know.  When you went inside with them and didn't come back out and I had to use my brand new skills to ride my bike down the dirt roads back home, I wasn't mad at you.  I showed up with my knees and elbows bleeding everywhere and mom had to pick gravel out of my scrapes and my clothes were ruined but I was so proud of myself that I made it all the way back.  Mom said what you did was wrong, but you showed me early on that I was capable of taking care of myself.  It was worth something in the end.”  

The clouds gathered overhead and started turning the mist into small water droplets.  Aaron slipped his jacket back on and pulled the hood up.  “Do you get cold all the time like I do?  Mom always runs hot, talking about turning off the heat and wearing tank tops and wishing she lived somewhere cold like Alaska.  Sean is just like her, he loves the snow in New York, tells me I should come visit and I'd love it but I don't think I would.  I always wondered if you had cold hands like me.”  

The sun was dropping low over the trees now, and the rain had stopped as quickly as it started.  He stood, arched his back, stretched his aching joints and began folding up the blanket.  There was a little motel down the road with a diner in the parking lot calling his name, he was chilled to the bone and there was nothing but a steaming carafe of roadside coffee that could take the edge off.  

The diner was nearly empty, the calm before the dinner crowd storm he figured.  Whatever that looked like way out here anyway.  He ordered his coffee and some sourdough toast with strawberry jam, asked the waitress to leave the pot for him after filling his mug.  He'd go through all of it before he touched his toast.  The idea of visiting his mother was floating through his mind, but he hadn't done that in so long, and not ever in his adult life without Sean by his side, acting as a buffer.  He wasn't sure he'd even be welcome without his brother.  Or if he'd even know how to talk to his mother.  He'd stay in the motel and give it some thought.  There was no rush, he had approval from Strauss for an open ended leave – the least she could do after he'd been in an explosion and watched his friend die, he figured.  She may not have liked him much, but she wasn't heartless, and more than that, she almost always listened to Dave and Aaron knew his friend was back at Quantico pulling strings. It paid to have David Rossi in your corner.  

“You come here often?”  Aaron startled at a familiar voice behind him and turned to see the face of his brother.  He hadn’t even heard the door chime, hadn’t heard his brother approach the table, though that shouldn’t have surprised him.  He couldn’t hear much over the constant ringing.  

“What are you doing here?” he asked, watching Sean slide into the booth opposite him and grab the toast, mowing through it without even asking.  Aaron raised an eyebrow and shook his head – he had been planning to eat that, at some point anyway.  

“That friend of yours, Rossi?  He told me he thought you'd be heading this way.  Said you might need some company.”  

“So you drove down from New York?”

“No, he flew me down.  You know that guy is loaded?  You know how to choose your friends.  Mom picked me up from the airport a few hours ago.  We saw you at dad's grave, she wanted to stop but I told her not to.  Figured you already had all the company you wanted.”

Aaron nodded.  “Thanks.”  They sat in silence while Sean finished off all of his brother's toast and ordered more.  

“You staying at the motel?”

“That was my plan.”

“Mom will have a fit, you know that right?  Come on, stay at the house with me.”

He hated staying there.  His bedroom still gave him nightmares, he couldn't seem to battle that demon and win.  He'd devoted his entire life to defeating monsters, but when it came to his own, he was powerless.   There was also the simple understanding that their mother would not, in fact, have a fit if he didn't stay there.  She might feel slighted, but she didn't look at him the same way she did at Sean.  He was sure she loved him, but when she looked at him she saw her own pain mirrored, their pasts twisted together through shared trauma and she couldn't bear it.  He understood, he just wished one time she could remember that he'd been a child through all of it.  Not an adult who could rationalize, had a support system of friends, but a child.  He didn’t have a book club or PTA meetings or any of the ways out she had, he just had his bedroom door that came so easily off of its hinges.  Until Sean came along, he was alone.  

“Come on, one night,” Sean said, mowing through the second order of toast.  “Mom's making pot roast.”

“I hate pot roast,” Aaron muttered.  Sean grinned.  

“I know.”  

In the car, Aaron's hands were trembling, not from fear but from the sheer amount of coffee he'd managed to consume without any food.  He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten, he just kept dumping coffee into his stomach like it was a gas tank and hoping to make it a few miles further without needing to sleep.  The nightmares had been intense since the bomb, and waking up from them was painful and disorienting.  It had been 32 hours since he'd last slept, and it hadn't been good sleep at that.  

“You good?  Want me to drive?” Sean asked, watching his brother carefully.  “You don't look too hot.”

“Thanks,” Aaron muttered, sighing.  “I could drive this with my eyes closed.”

“Is that what you're doing?”

“Sean,” Aaron pleaded quietly.  “Shut up.”  

In the house, it smelled like pot roast and coffee, always coffee.  There was never a time that there wasn't a full pot on, always ready for guests to pop in.  Aaron grabbed a cookie from the jar beside the pot and poured himself a cup while his mother busied herself over dishing up plates for them.  

“You'll ruin your appetite,” she scolded without even turning her back.  He popped the cookie into his mouth and shrugged.  

“Doubtful,” he muttered, sitting down at the table with his coffee.  I’d have to have an appetite in the first place, he thought bitterly.  His mother put a heaping plate of food before him, huge chunks of meat with mushy round potatoes and overcooked carrots, the smell of which turned his already very iffy stomach.  “I'm not feeling great, mom, I don't think I can eat all of this.”

“Nonsense. You look too thin.”  She pulled out the blender and tossed in the meat juices and some flour, not exactly a conventional way to throw together gravy but it was how she'd always done it.  It came out lumpy and thick, sometimes you'd bite into an entire chunk of flour, part of why Aaron hated the entire meal.  He was busy looking at his plate when she turned the blender on, and he instantly cowered, throwing his hands up over his ears as the unexpected pain ricocheted through his skull.  He thought he was past this, but here it was, bad as ever.  He groaned and scooted away from the table, trying to will himself to his feet, to get out of the room, but before he was able to move the sound stopped and he was left wide open, vulnerable and utterly exposed at the table.  Sean stared, mouth agape, and then he understood.  Aaron didn't look up, just tried to will the pounding to stop, the ringing and the pain to go away, he was oblivious to anyone or anything else.  

“Hey mom,” Sean called,  and while she fiddled with the blender, he switched out his smaller plate with Aaron's, winking.  “Did Aaron tell you he was in an explosion a few days ago?”  Aaron wanted to ask his brother to stop, beg him to let it be, but he was frozen in place, unable to speak.    

“An explosion?” she asked, turning around with the blender in her hand, ready to pour the congealed mess over their plates.  She regarded her eldest son suspiciously for a moment, saw the obvious pain on his face and looked suddenly stricken and like she actually cared.  

“I'm fine,” his classic response, though he was fooling no one.  Sean and his mother looked at each other and then back at him.  

“You most certainly are not,” she said finally, sitting down beside him, forgetting about the gravy for the moment.  She looked at him, into his eyes, for the first time maybe ever.  He couldn't remember being this close to her, her actually seeing him.  “You look awful.  Go take a shower, sweetheart.  I'll make you some tea, I think you've had enough coffee.”

Sean was staring now, neither of them knew how to react.  It was the first time either of them had seen her behave this way with him.  Aaron felt a tightness in his chest and he nodded, standing up and leaving the table before he lost it completely.   He was glad not to have to eat the pot roast, at least.  

There was silence in the shower.   His head was still pounding, his ears ringing, but it wasn't getting worse.  He could breathe.  The steam filled his lungs, forced them to expand further to pull in air.  As the hot water beat down on his back, he closed his eyes and he saw the explosion, Kate's face, and for the first time since that day he cried.  He slid down the wall, resting heavily beneath the spray and wept quietly – for the pain in his head that was never ending, for the way the world sounded under water, for the way his mother had finally looked at him, for Kate, for his failed marriage, for his son.  He cried until the water went from hot to cold, and when he shut it off, the tears stopped.  He shivered and stepped out of the shower, into a waiting threadbare towel colored with swirling greens and golds and browns, a relic of his past.  It should have been thrown out years ago but his mother didn't like to get rid of things if they still had use – to her credit, though, she didn't buy new things either.  She just existed in this space like it was a museum.  

When he shuffled down the stairs, wearing his sweatpants and a tattered old Led Zeppelin t-shirt from highschool that somehow still fit him, his mother and Sean were watching Jeopardy quietly.  He plopped himself down beside the roaring wood stove and hugged his knees to his chest to get rid of the shiver he'd acquired when his shower went cold.  

“Your father was always cold,” his mother said softly, and her tone was almost sweet as she watched her eldest son sit as close to the stove as he could manage without burning himself.  “When you were a baby, I would pop into town for some groceries and come back to see you two sleeping on a blanket beside a roaring fire and the house would be so hot I couldn't stand it.”  Now he knew, though he supposed he always had.  “He almost took a job in Arizona just for the weather, before you kids came along.  Oh I couldn't have managed that at all.”  

“Mom,” Sean said, shooting Aaron a cautious glance.  “Let's...” he began, but she shook her head and wiped a tear from her eye.  

“I'm sorry, I know.  I’m not supposed to...I just...things were just so good for a long time, I try to remember those times...” her voice went faraway, and Aaron was thankful that he couldn't hear much of anything through the ringing and the pounding.  

“It's okay mom...remember those times,” Aaron said softly, resting his head on his arms.  He was exhausted, his eyelids were heavy.  It wasn't long before he'd excused himself to go to bed, leaving his mom and brother downstairs. He lay down on his bed, burrowed down inside of sheets that smelled like detergent and dust and drifted off to sleep almost immediately. It took hours of dead sleep before the nightmares crept in, slowly at first, but they were relentless and then he was awake in a cold sweat, his ears ringing mercilessly.  He groaned and rolled onto his side, hugging his knees to his chest, burying his face in the blankets and tried to will himself back to sleep where the pain couldn't follow but it was no use.  

“Aaron?” Sean asked, standing in the darkened doorway.  Aaron peeked his head out from under the blankets, staring at his brother, wondering what time it was.  “Come on,” he said softly, indicating for his brother to follow him.  Aaron slid out of his bed and shuffled out of the room in his thick wool socks, following his brother like he'd done so many times years ago.  It was so easy to fall back into routines, even ones you'd spent decades forgetting.  With a body so exhausted his knees threatened to give way, Aaron moved in a trance, stepping around Sean's bed and saw it like it hadn't ever been anywhere else – a pile of blankets on the floor that looked like a nest, and he crawled into it and was instantly consumed by the heat from the wood stove directly below.  It was his favorite place in the entire house – protected from the doorway by Sean's bed, warmed from the stove, not a single creaking floorboard so he could crawl into it silently night after night when he had bad nights.  His heart was heavy, his body weak and exhausted, but there was some small comfort in knowing that his brother was still, forever and always, in his corner, even if he had difficulty showing it.  Neither of them were perfect, he supposed.