#anyways this would be an informal hobby side project not a real study

[kessielrg]

A Quiet Place (Part 3)

Summary: Part 3 for a short ficlet based on a chaotic rp by @chibi-mushroom and @animacreates. The first two parts are here, and here. Took me long enough to finish this one, now off finish to the story where Sabrina becomes a Heartless for a day.

Rating: K+

Word Count: 2,059 words

If you liked this story, please reblog!

---

“Pliers?”

“Pliers.”

“Hammer?”

“Hammer.”

“A little reassurance that I'm not going to hit my finger this time?”

“Wouldn't count on it.”

Oswald gave Sabrina a stink eye that she just as easily shrugged away from. He was finding quite quickly that being a sassypants was second nature to her. Having a strong will was good -especially for someone as beaten down as she had been- but heaven help him if it didn’t make him go slightly insane each time. She was going to have a job in power one day. He just hoped that it was on the ‘good’ side of gray and grey morality, and not the ‘bad’ side.

“You know, I think I liked it more when you just sat on the couch.” he informed her, jokingly razzing his tongue at her.

“No you don’t.” she immediately spat. “If I sat on the couch now, you’d think I’m mad at you.”

“Are you?”

It honestly took her a few moments of thought toward the idea.

“Not in this room.” she decided.

“Guess I can’t argue with that.” Oswald snorted. “Would ya bring the standing magnifier a bit closer? If you’re not going to cheer me on, the least you can do is help me delay the inevitable.”

The girl gave a sound of affirmation before adjusting the afghan blanket around her shoulders. The blanket still served as her shield against the world. She may be gaining more confidence, but outside the hobby room her glares did most of the talking. Even that was more of an improvement as well. Stoic wasn’t the best word to describe her first week. Moreover, she did a lot more than head shakes and flinching when spoken to now. She still flinched when Ortensia raised her voice when Oswald didn’t do something the first fifty times his wife asked him to- but the kid couldn’t be blamed for that. It scared Oswald to; even if the forgetting had been on purpose.

At this point, the two foster kids had been with him and Ortensia for six months and three days. The day marking that this was the longest the siblings have stayed with one family was one where Brain called the first family meeting. He never said that this was the case, but at that point both caretakers had a good feeling about it anyway. Many things were talked about that day. Most of it was a simple ‘thank you for keeping our trust’ from the heart. But there were some topics that made them all go silent in both thought and fear. The biggest one of all; would Ortensia and Oswald have children of their own as well? It was no real secret that Ortensia wanted a big family. It was even less of a secret that the two had tried for their own child before.

Ortensia said that it would be nice to have more children. Oswald remained silent; too focused on the kids for their reactions. They may have known each other for six months, but they were still a mystery to him. And what he did know...?  Suffice to say, it sometimes kept him up at night in absolute fury. He didn’t even have that much hate for his own brother- and that fury was well pent up after so long.

But he couldn't think about that now. He honestly didn't want to hurt his finger again because he misjudged his hammer swing. Sabrina watched on, almost unflinching with each strike. Her eyes held a gaze that made it seem like it was her sheer will that prevented Oswald from hurting himself. She was willing each strike to hit the nail square on the head. It was perhaps the only bit of good luck Oswald didn't mind. Her intense focus led him to be extra focused as well. It took several careful moments, but his repairs on the clock were finally finished.

“Finished.” Oswald sighed, setting down his hammer with certainty. “Now all we need to do is wind it up, and see if the birdy’s gonna cuckoo. But we can do that later.”

“Why?” Sabrina questioned.

“The best thing about a spouse,” her caretaker gleefully told her, “Is finding new ways to annoy them.”

Sabrina raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t say anything against the idea. If anything, she mentally filed it away for later.

“Do you ever sell the stuff you fix?” the girl then asked as she made her way over to the couch.

“Sometimes.” Oswald agreed, carefully taking the clock with him so he could set it beside the door. He hoped he wouldn’t forget it later. “Ortensia wishes I did it more, really. Says I do nothing more than clutter up the living room, or just create more junk sitting around without use. Thing is; everything’s got a use. It just has to take the right person to see it.”

“Like people?”

Oswald looked up, then turned his head slightly to give the girl an odd look.

“I don’t think I follow, kiddo.” he admitted. “Take me through your thought process.”

Sabrina gave a half shrug. “Everyone has a use.” she said, somewhat in a mumble. “But sometimes the wrong person looks at you and makes the wrong assumption. They treat you bad because they think you deserve it, even when you've done nothing wrong. But you still have that… potential. Potential that could easily be squished if someone decides you're not worthy before ever knowing you.”

“Ah,” Oswald agreed with a nod. “Very philosophical. A very unique perspective too, if I must say. However, them’s some high and mighty words from a girl who trash talked a store mannequin the other day.”

“I could arrange a better outfit than that.” she immediately huffed. “Pairing a tunic blouse with a denim skirt and leggings? It would have created a better silhouette if they had just put flared, knee length capris on it, with a belt a little above the hips. And don't even get me started on the flat colors they chose.”

“I think you're already started.” Oswald laughed.

“Miss Minnie agreed with me,” the child spat. She even blew a raspberry at him for good measure. But in her tall stature, she thought of something. A rather investigative glint hit her eye as she then ventured to ask, “Miss Minnie is married to your brother, isn't she? That's why she makes you fix things for them a lot.”

At first, her only reply was a grunt. He tried to hide it from her this time though; he put on a big smile as he came over to her.

“You're a pretty smart kind, you know that?” he teased while he ruffled her hair. Sabrina was quick to swat his hand away, then fix her hair again. Her stink eye was immeasurable.  Oswald pretended not to notice as he took a seat on the couch. “But this clock isn’t for him, or her. This was my personal project, and tonight at dinner, Ortensia’s gonna know it too.”

“Never said it was, or wasn’t.” the girl claimed. She sat tall, but held the afghan closer to her body. “I just… I like Miss Minnie. Just a bit. But then she goes and acts all no-space like Ortensia does, and it's grating. Is she another one that wants to have a super big family even though the one she’s got is perfectly fine?”

“Mickey’s the one who picks up stray puppies.” Oswald told her, rather sharply. “Minnie, much like the rest of us, wants him to mind his own goddamn-”

Oswald cut himself off. He had to force himself to unclench his fists. He looked over at her to find a rather still expression in return.

“What'd your brother ever do to you?” the girl ventured to ask. She had never really asked much about Oswald or his other family. Mostly because she had no interest in it. She was also smart enough to know by now that there was bad blood between Oswald and his brother. But if she was going to open up, then perhaps it was time he did the same. It was only fair.

Unfortunately, his answer was less than satisfying.

“You have your 'don't-talk-abouts', and I have mine.”

“Right.” the kid said with a roll of her eyes. “So I'll just ask Ortensia about them like you ask Brain about mine.”

“Now listen here you little-” Oswald started to grumble as he made a reach for her. Sabrina yelped before getting off the couch with a start. She whipped around the couch and over to a corner. She let the blanket sway with her. Once she thought she found a safe spot, she looked back at Oswald, upturned her nose, and flung the afghan across her chest like it was a silk scarf instead.

“Easy with that thing.” Oswald jokingly huffed at her. “You move it around like you're a queen about to poison a princess. That blanket's an heirloom, you know.”

And that was when he heard it; her first genuine laugh.

“Being a queen would be such a bore.” she grinned. It was mischievous, cunning, and joyful all the same.  “All she does is make the king look good, arrange banquets, and sit dutifully next to him even when he’s cheating. I’d rather be a princess. They have about… 30 percent more freedom than queens.”

“Oh really?”

“Yup.” she agreed, even popping her ‘P’ with certainty. “She gets to study abroad for her training, lead dignitaries into the kingdom, maybe even flirt with a foolish footman or two for good measure…”

“What a scandal that will cause.”

“Oh, but it’ll all be covered up before anyone even knows it happened. That’s the thing about royalty and their heirs; they’re always more than willing to sweep things under the rug to keep appearances.”

Oswald snorted. “Guess I can’t argue with that logic.” he decided. “Come on princess, let’s hang this cuckoo in the dining room before Ortensia notices.”

“Right,” the girl agreed with a nod. She walked back over to the couch to gently place the afghan blanket over the back. Oswald noted how she very gently folded it into a triangle before placing it down. She didn’t look at him as she went over to the door, but she did pick up the cuckoo clock for him. He smiled a bit before joining her. Together they left the safety of the hobby room and back into the main house.

“You know,” Sabrina mused as they entered the living room, “I’ve noticed that you usually work on older stuff. Like clocks, and projectors, and anything else that existed before Thomas Edison. How come? Why not work on newer stuff like Xboxes and plasma TVs?”

“Well, princess,” Oswald informed her. “That’s because I'm not allowed to work on electronics anymore. Not after an accident where I shorted out a control box and every single firework at Walter Elias Memorial Park went off six hours before the big show. Burnt my eyebrows off during that. Ortensia wouldn't let me leave the house for weeks after, too. Poor honeybunch thought just touching something with a charge would give me a heart attack.”

“Oh…” the girl mumbled. Oswald looked over at her, raising a concerned eyebrow.

“Something wrong?”

Sabrina shook her head. It took her awhile, but she quietly admitted, “Brain and I used to go there a lot. Walt Memorial. We always found a good spot by the jungle gym to watch the fireworks shows. Everyone sits by the safety line, you know. It gets too crowded.”

“Do you like crowds?” Oswald asked as they entered the dining room.

The girl then lulled her head from side to side. She handed Oswald the clock so he could hang it on a spot conspicuously already prepared for it.

“I don't like being invisible in crowds.” she finally decided. “I want everyone to know I'm there.”

“Keep sassing store mannequins, and I’m sure you’ll attract your own crowd.”

She tried to hold it back, but Sabrina let out her second laugh that day. The happy sound brought a grin to Oswald’s face. He was sure Sabrina still had a long way to go to really trust anyone within the family, but at the moment, he couldn’t have asked for a sweeter foster kid.

#writing #writing stuff #writers on tumblr #kingdom hearts #epic mickey #oswald the lucky rabbit #oswald #kingdom hears oc #kh oc #fanfiction #fanfic #kingdom hearts fanfiction #kh fanfiction #fan fiction #fan fic #kh fan fic #found family

[rotzaprachim]

Oh man as an aspie who clung onto the idea of autistic Nicky as soon as I watched the film, I'm super interested in knowing what people think his special interests are- I personally hc that he acquires a new one every century or so and sometimes that dictates where he and Joe travel

ohhhh ok time for my quarantine comfort hobby which is projecting upon fictional side characters in action movies! i think some of the big things for me about special interests is that they can be literally everything, and can also last for years or fade quickly! so some things that come too me off the top of my head, and although i totally think they all have a massive array of skills they’ve picked up over the years, i totally think Nicky is the one who is constantly pulling upexpected hobbies + skills out of his back pocket like ah yes. here is a perfectly executed lariat technique from 1800′s Sonora and here’s how to fix the wiring in a radio and write in mid 20th century secretarial shorthand at some point he picked up an incredibly amount of information about rare tree frogs of nicaragua and suminagashi, neither of which even Joe knew about. 

but anyway. some key Interests vaguely in order of CHronology 

- sailing + ocean stuff (also thanks to @captainshakespear !!! for a lot of the ideas on this one) 

i am a big believer in sailor Nicky! not an expert on medieval Genova or anything, but with my preferred background of him as being from a more modest background (not everyone in history was a royal, y’all) i think it’s quite likely his family earned their trade this way (or by fishing?). (might actually write a fic as sometimes i think it’s uh easier to write out characters thought processes than describe them but anyway) i have a real soft spot for Nico the kiddo who spent hours silently watching the sea either from the shoreline or his father’s fishingboat and who even if he had to be called by his mother three times for dinner and had a hard time focusing on conversations, understood the language of sails and ropes and knots from an early age 

- related to that- tying seaman’s knots 

- not to phrase this strangely but. religion 

there’s actually a lot of complexity to talk about with autistic people and religion/religious observance that i haven’t seen talked about much but! many thoughts on the this i might also expand upon later. Nicky eventually became a priest, even! 

but i do think that in the clamor and chaos of a medieval port city the ritualism and structure of religion would have been deeply comforting. the extremely set structure or a catholic mass, which quickly becomes the only time of the week where he’ll already know almost all of the words, and the feeling of wrapping his fingers around the rosary beads and counting through the decades. his mother’s been doing her best to raise all her children in the Faith, but she sees how fervantly her youngest actually remembers his prayers and sticks to them at the same time ever day on his own and is a little surprised. 

also like, lives of the saints! which are often exceedingly odd and strange, but Nico was like eh they’re Saints right they’re good this is a Normal THing to be Interested in and then lists off all the ways a few of the interesting ones were martyred over dinner. 

(but also in all of this he was definitely. a seven year old constantly questioning if God was real or not or could ever be kind when there were so many bad things in the world.) (we love projection.) and also a seven year old deeply interested in death and what happened afterwards. all things die. 

more to discuss later when i’m not about to fall asleep but! I think these interests lasted into his immortal life and long past the battlefield, especially as he starts to learn more and more about everyone the society and expression of faith in his first life taught him to hate. there definitely needs to be.. subtlety here, and he never intrudes on any closed traditions/is always respectful, but over the centuries he studies many, many holy texts and traditions from around the world, by himself and with Yusuf and also in various kinds of institutions and houses of learning. a LOT of religious text and discussion is surprisingly technical stuff about the practicalities of daily life or finer points of theologic debates as much as it is, like, the Big Picture, and also the finer point and big picture questions can be deeply related. anyway. 

- medicine

for all that there are a lot of autistic characters who are scientists, i rarely see one who’s a doctor/medical researcher and has that connected to their empathy and desire to heal others? but i very very much think Nicky has been a medic/involved in medicine and medical research since shortly after his first death and his centuries in the medieval Islamicate world with Yusuf, and has watched the way medicine has developed over the centuries, and is really fascinated by things like biochemistry and kept really studious logs of it all.  

- music esp guitar + folk music

also pretty fun to think about with so much of the history of stringed instruments linking to cross cultural trade around the mediterranean + Islamicate worlds, love the idea that Nicky has always kind of liked folk songs and music but has learned over time a number of varieties of stringed instruments starting with the oud, with his favorite being the guitarra batente and Hawaiian steel guitar with the slack-key playing style. sometimes he sings but a lot of his appreciation for music and stringed instruments especially is about the emotions that can be expressed without any words at all! 

- miscellanous other things 

the parts of a sniper rifle + shooting techniques, various kinds of sniper rifle scopes, buying + haggling for the best quality kinds of art supplies for yusuf, cooking, he reallllly doesn’t understand digital anything or the internet but he does like the elegance of electrical wiring and circuits, actually reads all the manuals that come with appliances for the interest value and is the one who wires safehouses to be off the grid and is just like. very good at odd household jobs + fixing things (which Joe finds unspeakably hot), he accidentally ended up as a star batter on a minor league baseball team at some point in the 1920′s and has an incredibly knowledge of baseball scores and runnings since even tho it’s literally one of like two sports who’s rules he understands and can focus on for more than five minutes (the other sport is the irish national treasure hurling), aforementioned nicaraguan tree frogs, in the last couple decades has gotten really concerned about biodiversity loss and the importance of protecting genetic diversity of species and crops, the large scale data of public health crises + antibiotic resistance, which he gives copley a long talk on basically the first time he speaks to him at all and which has copley pulling out a red sharpie and scribbling how massively he’s misjudged Nicolo di Genova, over the last few hundred years he’s become super concerned about medical + bioethics and the various technologies involved in that, stained glass window symbolism, angry birds and cooking 

#nicolo di genova #autistic nicky #which i need to make a tag #the old guard #actually autistic #i hope this was what you were looking for? sorry if this has gone on for a really long time #anyway! enjoy

[atypicalsenerio]

⁠—plateau, warlock mastery

Casting spells was second nature to Soren. Like breathing, taking air in and out of his lungs, and just as easily maniupulating it around him

With practiced motions he could do in his sleep, he executed a perfect Wind spell, followed by Cutting Gale, and Excalibur. The academy’s Reason professors watched him intently and Soren remained calm, face expressionless. There was no doubt in his mind he would pass an exam.

A mind that was as talented at memorization such as his could recall much of his childhood in vivid detail. Sometimes, it was a detriment. Other times, it was a source of contentment and pride at his own progress alongside time’s everlasting march forward.

As he demonstrated his practical ability, his muscles could remember doing the exact same motions almost two decades prior.

When he was first a student of the arcane arts, he was learning literacy in conjunction with magic. The old sage who had taken him in when he was around four years old had him studying relentlessly, every waking hour no matter the hour. Soren had learned quickly to eat and sleep when the sage was asleep, and to devote the hours they were awake to following his directions, cramming as much information as he could into his mind, fueled by a dying man’s desperation to pass on a lifetime of knowledge while he still had breath.

Fulfilling a dying wish before he’d ever gotten to live himself. Funny how the world worked.

Soren’s first spells hadn’t been impressive. The initial glow of success was then dimmed by the constant pressure to drill more and improve upon improvement. He was so small it had been a struggle to hold open a tome while casting. At times, he’d nearly fallen asleep while studying or practicing, but if his eyes ever drifted closed he was awakened again until they were both too exhausted to keep going.

It hadn’t been much of a life. He hadn’t known that, then. He’d never spent enough time with other children to know what he’d missed. His habit of falling asleep at a desk on top of an open tome had started before many commoners knew their alphabet.

These ‘gifts’, as people called his intellect and skills, were indeed paid for.

Candlelit nights and days spent in a daze of reading and refining magic were the bulk of his two years with the sage, and better than the rest of his childhood had been. He never spoke (and as he would find out, couldn’t) except when reciting spells, but he was fed, and there was a rickety roof over their heads. He knew by then he couldn’t take either for granted.

The loss of the sage at his time of death was not like losing a parent, but a scant source of food. They hadn’t been fond of each other, and Soren hadn’t had much choice in learning magic. ‘Better than where he’d come from before’ was a low bar, and one the sage had met, that was all.

He honed his skills further as a teenager and an adult, but not out of passion or love for it. It was more like choosing to only sharpen your best weapon, because it would yield the best results. He had no real hobbies or interests to speak of except studying, and he was studying to survive. Tactics, magic, geography, what made the people around him tick- all of it was for self preservation.

One could argue his life had been a lesson in the uglier sides of peoples’ natures, and when prompted, he could give a desolate, blunt report of his opinion of them.

-

The effects of his casting faded like a passing breeze, and Soren passed his exam. He was awarded his mastery of the highest pure Reason class related to anima magic that the academy had to offer: Warlock.

With the congratulations, he was given a set of robes to mark his accomplishment.

Soren retreated to his quarters to don them. Custom made black robes with dark mossy green accents flowed around him perfectly. The shoulders of the outfit were something he could do without, but combined with the trailing sleeves it made a bold look for him. A proper sage, certified and all, looking as though he did have every bit of knowledge that old sage had tried to hard to impart to him.

There wasn’t a Wind spell known to mages that was more advanced than Excalibur. Not that he’d ever heard of, anyway.

This was it, the end of a journey.

“Hm.” Why wasn’t he... happy? That was the expected response.

Soren folded his hands in front of himself. He’d practiced all his life and would keep practicing more, but he’d reached a point that had taken much of his lifetime, without a whole lot left to go to strengthen his best element.

He sat down on the edge of his bed with a sigh.

“I don’t know what to do with myself,” he admitted to the empty room. He studied history only for tactics, which he didn’t need much of anymore without assisting the Greil Mercenaries. Ike was the only one he genuinely wanted to be advisor to, and without their troupe to lead, he had no one to direct. He’d studied magic for so long to survive, and the end to those studies was in sight.

Oh, to finally feel stumped, and to feel it from a success.

Soren tried to recall what else he did in his time. He could focus more on swordsmanship, politics, on faith magic-

Academics, all of it. He could do it.

But if asked what would make him genuinely feel joy, he had no answer.

When he had the freedom to just live, he didn’t know what to do with it. Being around Ike could hardly be an answer to last the entire rest of his life.

What else did he do? Surely there was something. Oh, that was right. Some hours of his life were even spent tutoring Niles, soon to be both Niles and Tormod.

...

A pause.

He stood up as an idea struck him. For what exact goal, be it personal organization or even possible profit, he wasn’t sure. He may have looked the part of a sage, but he was still far from the man who’d been his first teacher. If anything, he was better. He knew his anima magic forwards and backwards, and what a difference good and poor instruction made, a balance between desperate dedication and sustainable study.

Soren took a spare blank book and started writing. With as much simple, accessible clarity as possible, he began a new project, his own textbook of basics of magic that a total beginner could understand, with his own hard learned insights added alongside.

It was something a small child from long ago would’ve found helpful, when not much in life had been kind.

#//yall are gonna laugh but when i sat down to write this i was like oh no idk if ill make 400 words now look at it #//DHFBVSDLBGRBHS #//first mastery drabble that isnt for dancer i hope its ok orz #drabble #ic #warlock drabble #class mastery

[black-streak]

Saturday night's alright for fighting (but Sundays are meant for rest) - A Little Perspective

Part 12

This actually takes a bit of a different tone to what the rest has been and is more of a reflecting inner monologue than anything else. But! We finally get a little more insight on Tim. Those who were there when this entire story idea sparked for me on the discord might recognize what this set up is leading to! And let me say, that bit is coming very very soon. Like, in the next three parts. Which means the main plotline is almost up! Anyways!

Tag list: @emjrabbitwolf @mystery-5-5 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @fandomkitty8 @dast218 @silvergold-swirl @shizukiryuu . @my-name-is-michell @kurogaya913 @elspethshadow @thecatnipmademedoit @shamefullove @ladylucina28 @crazylittlemunchkin @rayray384 @cassiejaydee @yuulxd @ladysblackcat @naclychilli @caffeinetheory @persephonebutkore @fertileleaf @hypnosharkrebeldreamer @weird-pale-blonde-person @st0rmy-w1th1n @littleblue5mcdork @dudet @naoryllis @disneyfoxuniverse

~---~

Sometimes, old hobbies come back from the dead. 

'Like many things in my life,' Tim snarked to himself, meticulously cleaning each detachable lens and placing it back in the small carry case for his camera. 

The old camera hadn't seen the light of day in nearly 7 years, when suddenly it became an almost weekly guest star to his life once more. Normally on a night where patrol fell to someone else or early in the morning after a quieter night out. Occasionally it would sneak out during a date or after waking up with a warm body pressed to his. And while Marinette supported and encouraged his newest endeavour, he never informed her that she'd been the inspiration. Or rather, Vixen.

It started when she first moved into Gotham, before Damian had brought her home and formally introduced them all. A shadow started descending on the nights of the city, but unlike most, this one seemed determined to make a positive impact, even if it never played by the rules. 

Thugs didn't find themselves unsure of how they arrived at a police station. Civilians were never found being helped by sweet, gentle strangers. Stray animals wouldn't stalk people around without an ounce of fear in their step. And Gotham villains did not fumble into their own traps so inexplicably as to knock them unconscious and be easily transported back to Arkham.

And yet, the entire family had come reeling to the fact that all of these things were exactly what was happening.

And as usual, the job of figuring out who exactly decided that rules were flexible fell to Babs and himself. 

That went downhill fast.

Cameras, street or self planted picked up nothing. No amount of hacking, research, or heat detectors could scrounge up an ounce of proof to even confirm the shadow was real. They often found Babs cursing under her breathe in those days, unable to comprehend what type of magic bullshitery this nonsense was.

Tim… well Tim thrived on the challenge. At first, he cursed and bemoaned the lost hours to no results, only to find himself being stalked one night. Shivers ran rampant down his spine as hair stood on end. The warehouse looked empty, but he knew better. He sensed eyes following his every step through the place. Taking the risk, he left to see if the feeling continued, only to find to his delight that it did. The shadow was tailing him. 

While nothing else came from that night, the idea started to form that perhaps if he kept its interest, he could study it as it studied him. Sure, the creature learned his behaviors as well, but his backup outnumbered it if things came to a head.

Two weeks after, Marinette barrelled head long into their lives. The tiny woman seemed timid at first glance, but a keen eye could see the sharp, intelligent gleam to hers. With the hunt for the shadow still in motion and the little woman's attachment to the coldest of the bats, Tim kept his distance. He felt no dire need to pursue any connection to someone perfectly content staying by his little brother's side. Especially if that gleam was any clue as to how dangerous getting close could be. Marinette was beautiful and intelligent and if the muscles coating her body were to be trusted, most likely vicious in combat. In other words, ridiculously attractive. And completely off limits. For as much as Damian might have believed otherwise in their early days, Tim wouldn't compete for someone his brother was so obviously endeared to.

However, that never stopped her from approaching him. Randomly at times, he'd find her by his side, asking questions or offering random thoughts to whatever project he laid out in front of him. Eventually, the object of his newest obsession came to light. Not that she knew they were speaking of the shadow, but Marinette had helped nonetheless. She took one look at his research and made an offhand comment about things being easier to decipher and look back on when provided with pictures and suddenly he was off, rooting through the closet in his old room, hunting for a camera case.

Suddenly, proofing the shadow followed him became easier. He patrolled until his senses alerted him to a new presence and worked around it until he found himself facing towards the entity, pulling out a camera and snapping a series of pictures. It became little things he clamored to: the way something shifted, how random little flickers of movement happened in the edge of photos, how a perfectly steady camera somehow had a haze to half of it's pictures. It threw him back to his days following Batman and Robin and then later, Nightwing through the streets, practically studying them under a microscope until he eventually uncovered their identities.

 In retrospect, that's probably how he gave himself away. Suddenly the shadow became more present, constantly showing up for all his nights as though it knew his schedule, despite not being consistent.

 In retrospect, that's also how it gave itself away. Or rather, herself. 

Vigilante talk had always been heavily coded for the family no matter if they were alone or not. Only the Batcave allowed freedom to speak openly. So who could possibly hear enough of their conversations to not only decode the meaning, but for long enough to use the scheduling to stalk him for more than three weeks now? The answer: Marinette. 

And yet, Tim couldn't bring himself to give her away. His shadow never caused any real harm. Always cleaned up after herself and honestly was doing hero's work when she branched off. The only real problem the bats had with her was that she was an unknown. But now? He knew her, so it became okay. Plus, he hadn't any proof, so really, it was self preservation that led to him not accusing Damian's little girlfriend of being the hidden creature in their night. Or so he told himself.

Suddenly, he found himself sneaking photos of the young designer, comparing her movements and stature to anything he could from the photos of his shadow. He never found anything concrete, but the pictures continued. If only because now he found that Marinette made an excellent subject and never seemed to mind the few times she noticed his lens pointed in her direction. They still kept distant, but it was too late. Tim knew too much and only became more fascinated and drawn in until a startling realization hit: he wanted her. Only he couldn't and would not pursue her, for she was with Damian. 

But suddenly, that was thrown out the window. Because she wasn't with Damian and the two had no interest in one another. Because she pressed herself into Tim's side and coerced him into sleep and flirted with intent. Because suddenly his shadow in the night followed him in the day and called herself his.

He found himself in the precarious position of hiding her secret from his family and protecting her from those who did find her all the while watching her freely laugh and tease with the same people in the light of day. He took photos of it all. From her laughter at the antics of his brothers, to the content look upon her face as she baked with Alfred. From the soft smile on her lips as she slept in his arms to the mischievous look she shot him from the folds of her transformed suit. Obviously he couldn't carry the camera on him at all times, but the collection grew nevertheless, tucked away in a compiled folder on his desktop, only labeled Mari.

Soon after, the subject changed and expanded, moving to capture the Gotham skyline at dawn or the gothic cathedrals as the sun set behind them. Cats stalking in the moonlight, Dick swinging from a chandelier. Jason with the softest smile he'd ever seen the man wear. Titus playing with Ace in the front yard. The view from his office chair at work. Damian hanging from the ceiling, trying to coerce a bat into letting him take it down below to treat a small nic in its side. Alfred relaxing in the garden. All pleasant memories he no longer wanted to take a chance of forgetting. And of course, the lens found its way back to Mari, but it was so much more now.

Closing the camera case and tucking it away as a small knock sounded at his door, Tim could only smile a little to himself. Maybe Vixen the mystery had started all of this, but truly, the outcome made all the sleepless nights and headaches and confusion worth it.

#maribat #timinette #timari #ml x dc #im so very tired #i hope the timeline makes sense #part 12

[amerasdreams]

I have been listening to True Spies podcast on Spotify. It’s apparently connected to a thing called Spyscape, which has a museum/experience thing in New York. They also have an online test for your personality and intelligence.... well those intelligence tests all of course have to do with math. and they are TIMED. somehow I got thru guessing most of them.... didn’t score 0 but didn’t score great. 

so guess what I scored on intelligence!  and personality scores mean I’m more prone to health problems and being unhappy.... :( 

(here I woke up thinking I can be uniquely me, I don’t want to be like anyone else anyway, I can embrace that... but how can I when what I am is this pathetic)

I shouldn’t have done this, I know what these tests do, make me discouraged and hate myself more. they even said I’m not imaginative and creative-- things I value most besides intelligence (and intuition/empathy...) 

they did say the “spy role” I was most suited for, which is what I’m most interested in, intelligence analyst. But in the more “practical” side, for jobs, it mentioned medical things, technical things, which I wouldn’t be good at and don’t like, business marketing-- working for a business I don’t care about, a job with no meaning....  it even had mathematician! when I’m obviously not good at math. the only jobs I might be interested in are psychologist/criminologist... idk.... to late for me to get any career anyway, let alone somehow what I really want

they did a risk assessment, where you blow up the balloon before it pops to get “money” - yesterday I started it and panicked when the balloon popped the first time and closed the window. then when I was walking the dogs it occured to me it was a test lol and I would just have to keep risking popping the balloon... so today I saw it as more of a game and not the ‘scary balloon popping oh no I lost money!” -not even real money. idk about fun.... all these things were stressful esp the intelligence test. 

today I started the test, thinking it might help me, get insight into what I can do, instead, it discouraged me, I’m what I thought, mediocre and not suited for much, they only gave a “role” to me because they had to give me something. It said the intelligence analyst is inquisitive--when it just said I wasn’t -  idk how this even fits with the test bc analytical? that wasn’t one of the dimensions and doesn’t seem like I scored high on implied analytical powers, same with determined-- 

how can i live with myself being like this, having no role and no future according to any dimension that really counts. don’t want to be plodding away at menial tasks when I want to do something Imaginative, Creative, Intellectual-- ha can’t even do that

oh I’m proving them right, easily stressed and sensitive and reactive -- 

I’m not including the risk assessment bc I don’t think it’s accurate-- I’m really very risk averse in all cases... oh we know that already so. 

~

results (bold/parentheses is mine)

MENTAL HORSEPOWER

Unlike Alan Turing would, you scored moderately low {yay!:(} on this attribute. The result, driven by your performance in the personality tests, suggests that, on the whole, you struggle with complex mathematical and analytical problems. {so how can I be an analyst?} That said, you can usually spot patterns and find links in data – as long as the information you have been given isn’t too abstract. (I like big picture things.... abstract things... apparently I’m not good at it)

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Like other people with a moderately low Mental Horsepower score, you are more likely to ‘go with your gut’ when making decisions rather than to apply logic and reason (that’s true.... logic is mystifying. fits with being INFP-- logic is my weakest point). It is unlikely that you will sit down and win a game of chess, and you probably rely on your satnav rather than read a map yourself. (yep.... chess is too much strategy... I can’t see ahead like that .. hm how could I be an analyst)

IN YOUR WORK

Because you are not a very conceptual thinker, you are better in roles where you can do things ‘automatically’ rather than applying any abstract reasoning skills. You are not bad at visual-spatial or mathematical tests though, and with training and practice, your skills will definitely improve.

THE SCIENCE

Mental Horsepower relates to our general cognitive ability and our capacity to think about, reason with, and understand abstract concepts. It particularly links to analytical and mathematical skills, but also covers memory, comprehension, language, learning capacity and judgement. These are hugely significant skills for success at work and in everyday life.

Psychologists have developed all kinds of tests to measure cognitive ability. Some of these involve predicting outcomes from patterns in data (also known as inductive reasoning), while others focus on mentally flipping and rotating images. We use both of these approaches in our Mental Horsepower tests at SPYSCAPE.

Recent neuroimaging research shows that intelligence is linked to brain patterns, and that these patterns are unique to each of us (meaning you can’t change them :(  )– much like our fingerprints. In one study, these brain ‘fingerprints’ were used to successfully predict people’s scores in IQ tests.

While IQ tests are probably the most common method for determining cognitive ability, there is some debate over whether they provide a complete picture. For example, theories suggest that there are many different types of intelligence which are not accounted for in these tests. Still, it is generally accepted that people who score highly on tests of cognitive ability are on the whole better at completing intelligence-related (so that career’s out... if it was ever in lol) tasks in the real world.

~

COMPOSURE

Unlike Jason Bourne, you scored extremely low (low on everything! what a wonderful person!) on this attribute. The result, driven by your performance in the personality tests, suggests that you are far more vulnerable to stressors than most people (I knew that). You are likely to have a very strong emotional reaction to negative events and your brain becomes highly active when you see something you perceive as unpleasant (like this test!). Although this means you find it hard to relax, it also means you are really tuned in to your surroundings ( and what’s the upside of that? nice consolation prize....)

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Like other people with extremely low levels of composure, you are highly likely to experience anxiety and burnout. (with things that aren’t really stressful to anyone else. just stepping outside. just being inside-- doing thigns like this.. doing most things actually-- help how can i live) You can be far too critical of yourself (well how do i stop? if this is how I am like), especially when you are stressed (which is almost all the time), and this can make it tricky for you to overcome problems (which is never, which is why I’m still living w my parents). You also dwell on the past far more than people with high composure.

On the positive side, you are responsive to your environment, which means you are more likely to anticipate negative outcomes and find ways to avoid them (like almost everything). You are also sensitive and caring, and your observant nature means you look out for yourself and the people close to you. (what’s the point of that when you can’t do anything, or get to know new people)

IN YOUR WORK

It is unlikely your colleagues will turn to you when there is an emergency or crisis at work. This is because you struggle to keep your emotions in check, and challenging situations can get the better of you. When this happens, you are not great at maintaining focus or making tough decisions.

THE SCIENCE

Composure relates to how our brains respond to stress. In tense situations, your brain activates an area called the hypothalamus, which releases adrenalin and cortisol – also known as stress hormones.

A bit of stress now and then is important for survival, because it alerts us to the dangers around us. Small amounts can be useful, but too much over a long period of time is bad for our health (oh goody). Studies show that the adrenal cortex, the part of the brain that releases stress hormones, is also linked to the healthy function of our immune system – and people who are more prone to stress are also more likely to get sick.

There is also a connection between composure and working (short-term) memory. Composed people perform better on tasks where they need to recall and use relevant information while they’re doing something else – for example remembering the steps of a recipe when cooking a meal.

PEOPLE SCORING HIGH IN COMPOSURE ARE

LAID-BACK

RELAXED

COOL

FOCUSED

POISED

PEOPLE SCORING LOW IN COMPOSURE ARE

EMOTIONAL

SENSITIVE

PERCEPTIVE

RESPONSIVE

VIGILANT

~

Contentiousness

Unlike diligent Mission: Impossible hero Isla Faust, you scored moderately low on this attribute. The result, driven by your performance in the personality tests, suggests that unlike Isla, you find it difficult to keep focused on long-term goals {Idk about this. goals are all i focus on.... well. I think about them often but Idk how to create the steps to get there and so things fizzle out and I get-- discouraged what else is new). You get distracted or bored quite quickly and are often drawn to new ideas and projects instead of finishing what you are currently doing (well.... hm. I finish novels...). You understand what is important in life, but you sometimes skip the details. (I’m not a detail person... I can be but they often seem irrelevant)

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Because you prefer not to a follow a schedule, hobbies that require regular training are not for you. In fact, your interests change quite regularly, and you find long-term commitment a challenge whatever the activity. Friends and family know that if they want you to do something, they need to encourage you to get organized. When they press you, however, you do things pretty well.

IN YOUR WORK

You take a relatively flexible approach to work. As such, you get distracted easily and do not always complete the task in hand. Because of your tendency to do this, you are likely to change jobs – and perhaps even career – fairly regularly (I want variety... Idk, this sort of fits, sort of doesn’t).

THE SCIENCE

Conscientiousness shapes how likely you are to follow rules, regulate your own behavior and get yourself organized. The more conscientious you are, the more motivated by goals and tasks you are likely to be.

According to what psychologists call the ‘Big-5’ model, conscientiousness is a core dimension of personality – and one of the five key traits that drive human behavior. Whether you are high or low in conscientiousness can help predict your success in social, academic and professional situations.

If you have high levels of conscientiousness, you are probably more productive and better at adapting to new situations (that’s true, I’m not) that come your way. However, this does not mean that being conscientious is always a good thing, because research also shows that being too conscientious can lead to overthinking. (I do that too...)

Some studies suggest that people who are more conscientious are healthier – and they might even live longer. This might be because conscientious people are more likely to exercise regularly, eat healthily, and avoid smoking or drinking too much alcohol.

It’s hard to say where conscientiousness comes from. One study found a link with areas of the brain relating to attention and cognitive control. There is also evidence to suggest that genes play their part. It’s likely that social factors such as your upbringing influence how conscientious you are, too.

PEOPLE SCORING HIGH IN CONSCIENTIOUSNESS ARE

HIGH-ACHIEVING

ACCOUNTABLE

THOROUGH

DRIVEN

SELF-DISCIPLINED

PEOPLE SCORING LOW IN CONSCIENTIOUSNESS ARE

IMPULSIVE

FLEXIBLE

EASY-GOING

SPONTANEOUS

ADAPTABLE

(I think I’m sort of this, sort of not because I’m borderline INFP -- P is flexible, impulsive while J is more structured-- I’m slightly more Perceiving. goes to show Myers-Briggs is pretty good at describing personality accurately....)

~

INQUISITIVENESS

Unlike Carrie Mathison in Homeland, you scored moderately low on this attribute. Your score was driven by your performance in the personality tests, and it suggests that you are pretty cautious about new ideas, beliefs, cultures and theories.

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Like other people who scored moderately low on this attribute, you are not so willing to take on board other people’s views (that’s true). You will consider what people have to say, but you are likely to stick with your own opinion. You feel more comfortable in familiar situations and surroundings (well, yes...), and you do not really feel the need to explore new places (I kind of do, though... I want to but I often... don’t. because it’s too hard).

IN YOUR WORK

Because you aren’t motivated to learn or acquire new skills (Idk about this... depends on if it’s something I’m interested in. I’m learning like 15 languages on Duolingo...), you are less likely to seek out new opportunities at work. And the longer you stay in a job, the worse your motivation is likely to get. In general, you tend to perform better when you start a new position, although you will carry this out using the same approach you always have, rather than approach it in a new way. You like real-world, practical work that has straightforward solutions.

THE SCIENCE

Inquisitiveness is an important trait for discovering new things and building a better understanding of people and of the world around us. Psychologists have developed tools for assessing and measuring how inquisitive a person is.

These are based on extensive research into personality and are designed to evaluate five facets related to inquisitiveness: (i) intellectual curiosity; (ii) aesthetic sensitivity; (iii) active imagination; (iv) attentiveness to inner feelings and; (v) preference for variety.

Furthermore, personality researchers have identified two types of inquisitiveness; ‘epistemic’, which refers to information seeking ( I think I’m more information seeking?) behaviour and ‘perceptual’, which refers to experience seeking.

PEOPLE SCORING HIGH IN INQUISITIVENESS ARE

CURIOUS

OPEN-MINDED

IMAGINATIVE AND INVENTIVE

CREATIVE

ADAPTIVE

PEOPLE SCORING LOW IN INQUISITIVENESS ARE

PRACTICAL

CONSISTENT

TRADITIONAL

HABITUAL

PRAGMATIC

~

SOCIABILITY

A bit like Alec Leamas in The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, you scored extremely low (yay. well I knew this... and from answering the questions... )on this attribute, which suggests that you prefer to spend time alone and keep yourself to yourself. You avoid parties, meet-ups and other noisy gatherings because you find them overwhelming (wayyyy). If you really have to socialize, you need plenty of quiet time afterwards to help you rest and recharge.

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Like others with an extremely low sociability score, you don’t like being the center of attention and often struggle to start conversations. You think a lot before speaking and regularly find it hard to express your thoughts and ideas. Because of this, you often let others do the talking, and you don’t take part in small talk either. This behavior means you might come across as socially reactive, and people may think you only talk to them when you feel you really have to (as in, extremely negative, and I shouldn’t exist. although... i do talk to them if I have to.... haha I do take part in small talk because I think I have to. or people will think I’m rude. but I don’t like it. I’m sensitive to how I’m perceived and don’t want to be seen as too antisocial, but I talk to others out of fear not of want... yikes. no wonder no one wants to be around me. well I don't want to be around them. well - I want to be around people I know well. for limited amounts of time... need less to recharge from people I know than strangers. I want to be with them, I don’t want to be with strangers-- it’s only stress and not fun at all. but how do i get past the stranger part to the friend part if I don’t like being with strangers and it’s all stressful adn overwhelming? How do i participate in society, have people to talk to, have any sort of success??? - shouldn't exist.).

IN YOUR WORK

Because you are more comfortable working independently (please. HOW???? besides working for myself... haha can’t work for anyone else bc can’t get past the interview, these ^ traits are obvious and not something any employer in their right mind wants), you will be more productive – and much happier – managing your own workload, tackling problems alone, and avoiding company brainstorms and powwows.

THE SCIENCE

How sociable you are can be linked to your levels of happiness, positivity, and wellbeing. In fact, sociability relates to a variety of positive outcomes in life, including how successful you are at work, how well you cope with challenging situations, and even how physically and mentally healthy you are. (yay. I’m doomed. I might as well kill myself now)

People who are highly sociable are more positive emotionally (case in point!) than those who are less sociable. In one brain imaging study, people with a high sociability score had higher levels of brain activity when they saw images of happy faces and other positive emotions.

The same part of the brain that processes emotions also helps interpret information from social contexts, which means we can judge a social situation and then respond appropriately (social situations, like math problems and logic, are mystifying to me. yay the things that are highest linked to success--).

There is some evidence to suggest that highly sociable people might be better at detecting and decoding the meaning of social cues –  including how they analyze and read people’s faces (oh, I know that. I have a hard time judging people’s faces, in fact I often think they are mad at me or judging me by their faces when they probably aren’t. I even have trouble finding out what emotions go with what emoji! besides the basics. i mean why, how are there so many emojis....). This means they are likely to find social interaction easier to deal with than others (lol yes. it’s . not easy. why. do i have to be born like this. always been. hell..).

There is also research to suggest that highly sociable people have more connections between regions of the brain that involve visual stimulus and regions that process social and emotional stimuli. (brains are better, we get it)

Sociability might also be associated with the neurotransmitter dopamine, which is linked to reward-seeking behavior. It is thought that people who are highly sociable may have an enhanced response to dopamine in the brain, which makes them pursue rewards such as attention, status, power or pleasure. This would explain why, when they get these things, they feel happier or more satisfied.

PEOPLE SCORING HIGH IN SOCIABILITY ARE

TALKATIVE

FRIENDLY

ENTHUSIASTIC

ENERGETIC

EXCITABLE

PEOPLE SCORING LOW IN SOCIABILITY ARE

QUIET

RESERVED

INTROSPECTIVE

PRIVATE

SHY

^ ALLL negative attributes, I need to just kill myself now, no future. 

#spies #personality test #spychology #help #job #life #negative #discouraged #again #pretty much everything discourages me #except when i'm distracted #insurmountable life #why #how can i possible live

[strife-and-discord]

Here Kitty, Kitty

Read on AO3 here

Characters: Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dedue Molinaro, Annette Fantine Dominic, Lysithea Von Ordelia 

Summary: With the war going on, Seteth agrees to open the restricted section of the library in case there could be knowledge there that could help them in battle. Instead what Lysithea and Annette find is a book of mischief (although they don't know that's what it is at the time) and poor Felix who was just there to help them with the heavy lifting accidentally becomes their victim.

This is a Catboy Felix you have been warned.

A/N: *leans real close to the mic* I would just like to thank the ten-hour version of the Tetris theme for getting me through this

Anyway this is 3.5k words of catboy felix dedicated to @corviiids. I'll admit this chapter is a little boring cause it's mostly just the set up but I swear I have other chapters planned featuring plenty of catboy felix shenanigans and I am also open to requests (don't really wanna do shippy stuff though).

also just a small trigger warning but Felix does low key refer to Dedue as a lap dog later on in the chapter and I know that bothers some people

Felix’s nose twitches when Annette slams some ancient tomb down on the table near him, the damned thing is so old Felix is surprised it doesn’t just crumble entirely into dust.

“Careful Annette, that was too loud,” Lysithea shushes from her spot over by the shelves.

Given that they were in the middle of a war and that they were all adults now, Seteth had given the Blue Lions house the keys to access the restricted section of the library. Stating that it may contain old or unconventional knowledge that could be useful in the fight against Edelgard.

Obviously- being the book worms that they are- Lysithea and Annette were the most eager for the chance to learn some forgotten magic and asked Felix to supervise them in case there was some sort of accident. He gets that to some extent this could be important to the war effort so Felix agrees to hang around while they work. However, it’s turning out to be a fairly dull experience where the most Felix has done in nearly an hour and a half is help the girls carry some of the bigger books.

“Ahh… sorry! I shouldn’t have tried to carry one so heavy, I’ll be more careful.” Despite the plume of dust currently irritating Felix’s sinuses he can’t help but roll his eyes fondly at Annette’s antics.

She says she’ll be more careful but he knows that this is far from the last mistake she’ll ever make. Although, he doesn’t seem to mind Annette’s clumsiness as much as he does other people’s. As long as she’s got people like him and Lysithea around to help her out he thinks she’ll be fine.

“What is that one anyway, it’s really dusty so it must have been laying around for a while,” Lysithea asks as she moves to join them at the table.

Annette squints to read the title of the book and Felix thinks to himself that her eyes are probably going bad from all the studying she does. “Li-bri Eo-rum Lo- Lo… Lo-contour? I’m not sure about that last one-” Annette frowns- “It's spelt a bit funny,”

“Libri Eorum Loquuntur,” Lysithea pronounces. Annette and Felix turn to her. “What? I’ve just heard this language spoken by other mages before.” She blushes and looks away.

“Does that mean you understand it?” Felix asks.

Lysithea shakes her head. “No sorry. My understanding is very basic.”

“Oh well, we can ask Seteth about that later. Let’s take a look inside!” With that Annette jams her fingers into a random part of the book and heaves it open, creating another cloud of dust.

“Ugh.. geez! Someone really should have been taking better care of these things,” Lysithea coughs and splutters.

Felix’s nose twitches again but this time he can’t keep himself from sneezing. Annette snickers, “Felix you sneeze like a kitten!”

Heat rises to his cheeks, “No I don’t!”

“Ugh, you sneezed all over the book that’s gross,” Lysithea groans.

“Sorry,” he grumbles.

Annette just giggles at him again before turning her attention to the now open book.

“Hm… weird, the book is written in the same language as the cover but someone’s added some Fodlan translations but only to the instructions. So we know how to do the spell but not what it does.”

Lysithea peaks over her shoulder. “It doesn’t look overly complicated either. Seems you just need something from your victim that ties them to the spell… and then you just say the words.”

“Wow! These are even more complicated than the title! Do you think you can figure out how to pronounce it Lys?”

Lysithea scoffs, “Of course I can. The chant is ostendere bestia est homo in interiorem”

Felix isn't’ really sure what happens after Lysithea says the chant because all at once he is struck by a blinding pain in both his head and his lower back. He collapses to the ground with a scream of anguish. He Vaguely registers Lysithea and Annette rushing over to him and talking to him in panicked tones but before he can try and reach for the words to reassure them, his world is engulfed in white light before he blacks out completely.

___________

Dedue is, as per usual, sitting at one of the pews in the cathedral that is closest to his Highness in order to keep an eye on him as he… broods. It is where Dedue can most often be found these days seeing as Gilbert took up most of his other duties in his absence. He doesn’t mind though. Dedue’s place has always been at his Highness’s side, for better or for worse.

Since Dedue now has a lot more idle time than he is used to, and he cannot indulge in his usual hobbies of cooking and gardening from the cathedral, he has taken up some new hobbies that can be done at his post such as sewing and crafts. One lucky day he was even able to convince his Highness to allow him to stitch up some of the raggedness his cloak had received during his missing five years.

The cathedral is not as busy as it was back in his academy days so, for the most part, Dedue is left to spend his days in relative peace and quiet. Today, however, the sweet eerie silence of the holy structure is greatly disturbed when his fellow housemates Lysithea and Annette come running through the place like twin hurricanes, calling for Dedue.

“Dedue! Deeduuuueee!” He really does wish they’d be a bit quieter, this is a church after all and he doesn’t want them to aggravate his Highness.

“There is no need to shout. I can hear you,” he informs them politely as they reach him at the back of the church.

“We messed up big time Dedue.” Annette pants from running. “You need to come with us. You have to see it to believe it and we don’t know what to do.” Lysithea is nodding enthusiastically beside her...

Dedue frowns. He is not entirely sure what sort of situation would require this kind of response. However, were someone dying he would hope that Lysithea and Annette would simply tell him outright. He believes this is something different. He stands up and places his current sewing project gently back on the seat behind him. He doubts anyone here would take it. He nods once at the two women and gestures for them to lead the way.

As they move towards wherever it is that they’re headed, Dedue notes that Lysithea and Annette do not seem to be panicked, per se, just nervous. He also notes that they seem to be heading towards the Dormitories. Perhaps someone is ill and the girls want his advice in taking care of them? Although that doesn’t explain their statement of ‘he has to see it to believe it.”

He is led to the second floor of the dormitories and towards the end of the hall. Dedue panics for a second that perhaps they have done something dreadful to his Highness’s room. While he may not be using it at the moment, Dedue would prefer it to remain intact. Fortunately, the trio stops before his Highness’s room and instead enter Felix’s.

Dedue’s brain comes to a complete standstill. Lysithea and Annette stand at Felix’s bedside looking at him with expectation and fear but Dedue can not formulate any sort of emotional response to offer them. Felix lies on his bed, stripped of his weapons and curled in a fetal position on his side, with two catlike ears sprouting from his head and a rather elegant tail curling from his lower back.

Dedue is not sure of how many moments pass in silence but it is enough that Lysithea and Annette start to shuffle awkwardly where they are standing.

“What…-” Dedue starts- “exactly has happened here.”

Lysithea won’t meet his eye and Annette seems to be biting her lip to keep from crying. He hopes, absentmindedly, that he is not intimidating them too much.

It is Lysithea who speaks up first. “Felix was helping us look through the restricted section of the library for anything we could potentially use in battle when we found a very old book in a language we didn’t understand and accidentally cast a spell from it!” Lysithea rushes the story so fast that Dedue almost doesn’t catch it.

Dedue looks at Felix again. It is probably the most peaceful Dedue has ever seen Felix in all the years they’ve known each other, he can’t help but think Felix looks very nice like this. Other than the ears and tail he can’t see anything wrong or out of the ordinary. He understands that given the current state of things both Dedue and the Professor have become the primary givers of support among the monastery but for once he does not have even the slightest of clues as to what he should do about this.

“I do not mean to sound rude but I do not believe I am the right person to assist in this. I am very much lacking in skill when it comes to the magical arts and I have little knowledge of Fodlan history. If you want my advice, it would be to speak to either Manuela or Seteth about this. Perhaps both.”

Annette and Lysithea both look crestfallen at that and Dedue cannot suppress the twinge of guilt he feels at not being able to provide them with a solution.

“Well… can you at least stay with us until he wakes up? He’s gonna be really angry when he wakes up and I don’t know if Annette’s pouty face will be enough to calm him down this time…”

Dedue sighs. He understands their concern, even if Felix does not lash out at them physically he can be just as brutal with his words but Dedue is already starting to feel anxious at being away from his Highness for so long. However, this is a fairly serious situation and the goddess knows what kind of condition Felix will be in when he wakes up. If he can’t walk, it would not be fair to leave Annette and Lysithea to carry him to the infirmary.

“Alright,” he relents, “I will stay until he wakes and help escort him to the infirmary afterwards.”

Dedue stumbles as Annette leaps to hug him with a surprising amount of might for such a small lady. “Oh thank you Dedue! This means the world to me I promise we’ll make it up to you!”

“Annette, shhh!” Lysithea scolds, “Felix is still sleeping.”

“Oh yeah, sorry!”

Lysithea just rolls her eyes and pulls out Felix’s desk chair to sit in. Dedue situates himself by the door and Annette moves towards the bed to have a closer look at Felix.

“You have to admit though… he does look really cute.” As if without thinking, Annette’s hand slowly moves towards the spot on Felix’s head between his ears.

“Annette!” Lysithea jumps up. “You can’t do that! Felix will actually kill you!”

Annette looks back guiltily, “He doesn’t have to know! I have a better chance of being able to do it now than when he’s awake.”

Assured in her logic, Annette continues her actions. Dedue can’t help but agree with Lysithea in that watching Annette move to pat Felix on the head is sending off warning bells in his head. Fortunately, Felix does not immediately awaken in a ball of rage and swords as Annette’s hand makes contact. Instead, as Annette starts to scratch gently around where his ears are, a low rumbling sound comes from Felix instead.

“Oh my goddess, he’s purring,” Annette whispers in complete awe. Dedue swears he can see stars in her eyes.

Lysithea moves from her seat to peak over Annette’s shoulder, moving cautiously as if one wrong step will cause an explosion. “I wanna have a go as well” Annette backs away carefully allowing Lysithea to take her place.

“His ears are so soft…” Lysithea mutters almost to herself as it is hard to hear her over Felix’s purring.

Suddenly, the purring cuts off and Lysithea jerks her hand back as Felix gives a yawn with way more fangs than any human is meant to have. He starts to sit up and Annette and Lysithea scramble back to hide by Dedue.

Felix doesn’t seem to notice them in his grogginess, instead opting to lick his hand and use it to clean behind his ears. Dedue understands what he is doing. He has seen real cats do the same. However, if Dedue thought his brain had been frozen earlier what it is doing now can only be considered a total breakdown. The three stand at the door in the most oppressing silence Dedue has ever felt. Annette once again looks as though she is about to cry and Lysithea is poised and ready to run at a moment's notice.

Felix, however, is completely blind to their shocked states and merely continues to groom himself as if it is the most natural thing in the world.

Felix freezes mid lick and his eyes snap wide open.

Dedue has known Felix for a number of years now even if they’ve never exactly been close and during that time Dedue would never have described himself as feeling intimidated by Felix. However, the look on Felix’s face as he slowly turns to face the trio at the doorway still in the position to lick his hand, gives Dedue chills down his spine as nothing else has in a long time.

The others must feel the same because Dedue registers that Lysithea has his arm in a death grip and a sniffle from his side indicates that Annette’s tears have finally burst forth.

Felix lowers his hand but does not relax his glare even a little. “What… Exactly… Have you done to me?” his voice is low and dangerous and Dedue does not like it one bit.

“It was an accident…” Annette squeaks out.

“That spell from the old book we cast seems to have given you the features of a cat,” Lysithea tries to explain with confidence.

“If you are willing, we’d like to take you to the infirmary to be checked by Manuela. Just to be sure there are no ill side effects,” Dedue adds.

Felix takes several deep breaths and Dedue considers shifting into a more defensive position, he’s fairly certain he can take on an unarmed Felix and if not he can at least protect the girls. Fortunately, this isn’t necessary as the breathing seems to be enough to bring Felix down for the time being. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

Both Lysithea and Annette seem to start breathing again and Dedue would be lying if he said he didn’t let out a sigh of relief as well. Felix gets up from his spot on the bed and stalks over to the mirror on the wall. His new ears twitch as he looks at them but other then shows no outward emotion towards his new appendages other than vague annoyance. Which is how Felix usually looks at things.

“Oh!” Annette jumps, “You should tuck your tail in and cover your ears with your hood! So you don’t alarm anyone.” Felix nods to her and moves to do so.

_____________

Felix’s stomach is churning as Dedue knocks on Manuela’s door. He wants nothing more than to go back to his dorm and take another nap but the fact that he wants that over going to the training grounds is enough to convince him that he needs this check-up. He doesn’t want to make a scene of being freaked out because he knows that will only make Lysithea and Annette feel worse. This really isn’t their fault, the spell probably wouldn’t have gone off if Felix hadn’t sneezed all over the book in the first place. He is pissed off, sure, but not at them.

Unfortunately for him, Manuela actually seems to be present and sober for once. Although her professional conduct seems to be just as lacking as ever. She gives them all a once over before stoping on Felix and his completely ridiculous hood.

“My, what an interesting group of people. What exactly brings you lot to my door?” Felix’s stomach does a particularly nauseating flip. He’s never liked the way she talks.

The other three all give Felix a look and he rolls his eyes before taking off his hood. Finally, his ears were getting really uncomfortable under there. Manuela’s eyes widen and he makes sure to scowl at her.

“Well, I suppose you better come in then. The rest of you wait outside or go back to whatever you were doing. This is probably going to take a while.”

Felix feels more like he’s walked into a prison sentence, as Manuela shuts the door behind him, then an infirmary and he almost wishes Dedue could be here with him since he’s pretty good rebuffing these sorts of thin-

“Alright hon, I’m gonna need you to strip.”

Huh? Felix’s brain stops and he looks at Manuela slack-jawed.

Manuela clicks her tongue at him. “Don’t give me that look, this isn’t a come on. This looks like some pretty serious transformation magic so I’m going to need to give you a full physical to try and make a record of everything that’s changed.”

“Is a full physical really necessary?” Felix cringes.

“Yes, Felix. In order to understand the extent of the changes it is very necessary.”

Felix groans but moves to start taking off his clothes none the less.

______________

After a gruelling two hours of tests that have left Felix in desperate need of a nap, he is finally released by Manuela with a file containing her initial results on Felix’s new physical nature and some suggestions he’s sure he’s going to ignore. To Felix’s surprise, Dedue is still waiting outside the infirmary although he has taken a seat on the ground and seems to have acquired some… sewing.

Dedue looks up from his project as the door opens. “Ah, you’re done. How did it go?” Dedue may be acting polite but Felix can tell it’s awkward for him. Probably because most of their previous conversations involved Felix yelling insults at him.

“That was probably one of the worst experiences of my life. However-” Felix gestures at the folder- “we now have a written record of all the know changes the spell made to me.” “That’s a great start,” Dedue nods. “The girls went to talk to Seteth to see if he knows anything useful.”

‘Why are you still here anyway? I thought you would’ve gone back to your master by now.” He would call Dedue a lap dog but he figures he has been helpful today so Felix might as well go easy on him.

Dedues face falls and Felix can’t help but feel little guilty, he hopes his ears don’t give it away. Sure it was unnecessary but he has a reputation to uphold. “I’m sure his Highness will manage to survive one day without me.” And there’s that calm dismissal that never fails to piss Felix off. His guilt quickly dissipates and he takes note of the way his tail seems to flick instinctually with his irritation.

Before the situation can devolve into a real argument, Lysithea and Annette come running up. It’s kinda mean but Felix thinks they look a bit like woodland creatures running around on their little legs.

“We spoke with Seteth!” Annette announces, out of breath.

“You do not need to run everywhere,” Dedue says with concern.

“We spoke to Seteth-” Lysithea continues- “And he said that book is actually a ‘Book of Mischief’ and that spell was to ‘reveal one’s inner creature’. So in other words, it’s a prank spell from a prank book.”

Felix sputters, “Wha- What do you mean ‘reveals one’s inner creature’?! Why the hell am I a cat!?” He should be something way cooler right? Like… like a wolf or something.

Dedue ignores Felix’s comment, “Did Seteth say anything about reversing this?”

“He said that he’d talk to Professor Hanneman and Linhardt about doing some research into reversing but for now all we can do is wait.”

So, in other words, Felix is going to be stuck like this for a while. He’s not really sure how to feel about that. There haven’t really been any negative side effects yet but it’s still freaking weird to be a person with various cat features. A voice in his head that sounds annoyingly like Ingrid and that he would rather ignore, says that this is karma for him always comparing other people to animals.

“Well…” Dedue looks down, “I suppose all that’s left to do now is to announce it to the rest of the house and the professor. It would hardly be practical for Felix to walk around all day wearing his hood.”

Dedue turns to Felix, “That reminds me, if you are willing to offer up your coat for a short time, I could sew some proper earholes into the hood so it’s not so uncomfortable.”

Felix takes a deep breath. These are the things he has to worry about now. Ear holes for his hoods, finger holes for his new claws, and probably holes in his pants for his tail. Being a cat/human hybrid seems to involve a lot of holes. It’s also going to involve a lot of explaining things, starting with the former Blue Lions

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #felix hugo fraldarius #dedue fire emblem #annette fantine dominic #lysithea von ordelia #fe3h #the words of me #catboy Felix

[sabraeal]

We Seek That Which We Shall Not Find, Chapter 3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Obiyuki AU Bingo Camelot AU

The first time Zen tells Shirayuki about the game, it’s nearly a month after he first sat next to her in homeroom, since Kiki elbowed him in the side and said, just talk to her already, it’s getting sad to watch.

He’s under duress this time too; it’s the fourth Friday in a row that she’s put her tray down at his table, and he stutters to a stop, eyes wide and cheeks flushed a painful red.

“I can go sit somewhere else,” she offers, though she has no idea where. Her only friends here besides them are Kihal, who has lunch fourth block on Fridays; and Ryuu, who eats lunch at the middle school, since the guidance counselor thinks it’s better for him to associate with children at his own level of maturity during free periods. He hates it, but Shirayuki gets how impossible it is to tell adults that when they believe they’re doing what’s best.

Oh, maybe she should let Kihal introduce her to some people like she keeps threatening to.

“This had become officially ridiculous,” Kiki informs him in her calm way, eyebrow twitching. “You need to tell her already. Look, you’re giving her anxiety.”

“I’m not --!” Zen grits down on his words, taking a deep breath. “I’m not giving her anxiety, you are giving her anxiety!”

“Amazing,” she deadpans. “Somehow you’ve managed to exceed my already ground-level expectations by digging under the bar. Just tell her already, or I will.”

His jaw goes slack, like he’s never considered that a possibility. “But then she’ll know that you --”

“Unlike you, I’m not ashamed of my hobbies for show.” Kiki turns to her with a brilliant smile; Shirayuki’s knees wobble under the beauty of it. “Since Zen is too weird to tell you, I like to spend my Saturday evenings --”

“We play D&D in my basement!” The moment the words are out, Zen wrenches his head away, hand wrapped around his mouth, as if it might keep more from leaping out.

“Oh.” There’s really no good way to say she has no earthly idea what he’s talking about. “That’s...good?”

Kiki’s mouth twitches. “You don’t know what that is, do you?”

Of course Kiki would find her out. At barely a month, Shirayuki knew all-too-well that it was impossible to keep a secret around her.

“No,” she admits on a sigh. “It sounds fun, though?”

“You’re entirely too nice for your own good,” Kiki informs her, though her mouth shifts to a smile. “Here, sit down. Did you like playing pretend games as a kid?”

Shirayuki has always liked words.

When she was five years old, she won a raffle at the town library. She hadn’t even known what a raffle was at the time, let alone that JaJa had slipped her name into the box, but that hadn’t mattered when she strutted down the street, collecting the children’s dictionary that was her prize. It was as thick as her arm and almost the size of her entire body, but it was first thing she had ever won -- the only thing she has ever won -- and she’d carried it the whole three blocks home, refusing to sit in her shiny red wagon and let JaJa pull her.

She spent many a day on the window seat of the B&B’s living room, poring over the seemingly endless entries. JaJa had laughed, had called her a budding intellectual with no little pride, ruffling her hair.

But she didn’t read her dictionary just to learn words, to be able to pull them out at breakfast and dinner and impress their guests. There was something comforting about it, about the idea that words meant something, that she could call something ovoid and have everyone see a similar picture to what she meant.

Well, provided they knew the word, of course. She ran into that problem often enough. Apparently, chiaroscuro was not a word that was common in the average adult’s vocabulary, let alone a nine year old’s.

This is the second time she has been in Zen’s basement, and Shirayuki honestly wonders if he knows what one is at all.

Basement means someplace dark, dry, the air heavy with must and the scent of wood shavings. It’s rickety wooden stairs and exposed beams of two-by-fours turning a suspicious green. It’s the small walled-in area where JaJa kept his tools, his projects piled high, chair legs shaped but unstained or entire pieces tipped on their end, held in vices for the glue to set. It’s a small, renovated area with a dying plaid couch and an overstuffed bookshelf, a place she could study without stumbling into guests every time she wandered out to the bathroom.

But this -- this is something entirely different.

This is fully renovated, with hard wood floors and walls painted a blinding white. The Game Room itself -- that’s what they call it, the game room, like their house is a Clue board complete with a study and a conservatory -- is bigger than her entire apartment, and there’s an exercise room just beyond it, filled with equipment expertly maintained, but most likely never used. She got to take a good look at it last time, because that is where the shared full bath is, along with a Jacuzzi tub.

It’s nice to be saved the trip upstairs, but still, still.

The furniture down here is at least not quite as intimidating as the painstakingly arranged antique and designer pieces upstairs, though Shirayuki is certain that just one part of that sectional sofa probably worth more than a month’s rent. She really doesn’t want to know what what the table set cost, especially not when Zen has been telling her they want to replace it, to put in a real gaming table, a custom model instead of just a regular dining table and -- and she really doesn’t know what a real gaming table would involve, but she’s sure it’s more zeroes than she would feel comfortable dropping for a car, let alone a slab of wood.

“Shirayuki!”

Zen scrambles out of his seat, realizing a moment too late that he’s stuck; Mitsuhide is settled in on one side, and Izana’s chair blocks a casual escape on the other. His nose wrinkles in annoyance, and all at once she finds it both endearing and -- and a relief. It’s nice to have someone excited when she walks in a room, but at the same time, it’s not as if she’s from an Austen novel and social mores demand that he rise for a lady. The last thing she needs is one of her few friends in this town giving her Mister Collins vibes.

Mitsuhide, at least, stays seated, absorbed in what looks like a new -- or at least new to her -- equipment book. Kiki had told her Bedwyr was in the market for some items to bolster his lay on hands; after all, he’s not going to be dropping points in Charisma any time soon, and all those mental stat boosting headbands were prohibitively expensive.

Shirayuki had nodded along. She had...definitely understood some of those words, when Kiki said them.

She knows the moment Izana steps down behind her, not only because his sternum bumps into her shoulder and sends her spilling forward, only avoiding an embarrassing fall into the sectional the price of a college education by the hand that wraps firmly around her arm, but also --

Mitsuhide bolts upright like a dog straining his leash and asks, “Are those...cookies?”

His eyes lock onto Frosty’s cheerful coal-eyed gaze, looking like he’d wag his tail if he could, like he’d be getting gleefully underfoot in hopes of getting a treat to spill on the floor, just for him.

“You bet they are.” She can’t see Obi, not when he’s right behind her, but she can feel his grin on the air, too pleased. “Red’s already bribing the DM.”

Zen flushes a deep red, and Shirayuki’s glad looks can’t kill, because otherwise she’d be looking for a new ride home. “Shirayuki would never. Who could even believe--?”

“Why, Shirayuki,” Kiki drawls, a slow smile curling across her lips. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Kiki!”

She winks. “I’m impressed.”

Zen fumes silently in his seat, arms crossed over his chest as he stares -- right at the hand on her arm, the one she’s just noticing is quite bronze against the cream of her cardigan. She follows it up, up, until she looks straight into amber, and --

And at least Obi looks just as surprised as she does, his hand slowly uncoiling, like somehow it will suddenly be less noticeable how long it’s been there if he just moves slow enough.

Her face is unbearably, irrevocably hot, and she knows she must be redder than her hair, in the midst of a blush she has no hope will go unnoticed.

“N-no, no!” she protests, turned back to Zen. “It’s only a, um, host gift! I thought it would be polite!”

She wouldn’t have done it at all, if she knew everyone would make it into such a -- a thing.

Ugh, no, she feels guilty even thinking about being that rude. Of course she would have done it anyway. “They’re snickerdoodle!”

Zen stares at her blankly, forehead wrinkling in confusion. “What’s a--?

“Anyway,” Izana drawls loudly, saving her from knowing whether it was host gifts or snickerdoodles Zen had never heard of. Either way seemed like an oversight on his parents’ part.

She takes a surreptitious look around the room. Well, maybe his au pair’s part.

“I believe there is a game we are supposed to be playing.” Izana steps past her, setting the tin down at the head of the table, just outside of his screen. The snowman is on full, humiliating display. She really should have chosen a plainer tin. “Or have you ingrates forgotten, marveling at how polite Shirayuki is?”

“Does that mean Red is going to get some sweet starting bonuses?” Obi asks, slipping into the chair next to Izana, across from Zen -- who only glares harder, as if he might be able to make Obi disappear from sheer force of will.

“I’m offended you would even ask,” Izana deadpans grimly, cracking open the tin. “Of course she is.”

“Ooh.” Obi perches his chin on a hand, waggling his eyebrows. “Sounds like a bribe to me, boss.”

Zen scowls.

“It’s merely a show of appreciation for such a thoughtful gift.” He plucks a cookie from the tin, inspecting it as if home-baked cookies were suspicious objects, like a bag left unattended at a bus station. “Shirayuki is above such venal acts.”

The cookie hovers near his mouth, and Shirayuki can’t help but stare, palms sweating against her skirt as she waits for him to take a bite. This is always the worst part of making something for someone -- that moment before they taste it, where she’s left to wonder if she picked something they liked, if maybe she mixed up the salt and the sugar --

A slap, quick and harsh, jolts her attention away.

“Ow!” Zen cradles his hand against his chest, scowling at his older brother. “Hey!”

“These are my bribe, thank you.” Izana nudges the tin closer to his screen.

Kiki lifts her eyebrows. “I thought Shirayuki was above bribes.”

“Of course she is,” he murmurs around a cookie. “But I never said i was above taking them.”

There are no bedchambers in the alchemy tower at Tintagel; you have come to understand this is a hard-won rule, brought into being only after a sufficient number of fires, explosions, and demons had destroyed enough personal property that it was deemed prudent to separate living quarters from working space. It makes sense, of course, and after a fashion, you appreciate the thought that went into such a rule, but -- it does leave you walking from one end of the castle to another at least twice daily. A small price to pay for not waking up exploded, or possessed, or worse, but still, there are days you think you might have risked it, if only to save you the trek.

It is while you are trundling through the central corridor that you hear voices, raised and pointed, coming from one of the rooms. It is an odd occurrence here in your, albeit limited, experience. Tintagel is a quiet castle, almost empty for one of its size. Some days it can feel as if you are the only one inside -- at least until your horned shadow peeks his head in your window, reminding you that even should you feel alone, he is always there, ready to prod every wound.

Still, it is not a place where arguments are common; Arturius railing against the unfairness of his brother’s mandates is a daily occurrence, yes, but to hear a counterargument -- it is unusual to say the least.

You draw closer, slowing until you walk nearly on tip-toe to get close to the source. You recognize one voice, at least: high and reedy, commanding -- it can only be Arturius. When he speaks to you, his tones are soft, dulcet, even demure, but you have seen him be prince enough to know that this is his voice as well, one that would be recognized more readily by his knights.

It takes you a longer moment to place the other. It is fluid, ever-changing, never quite rising to meet Arturius’s anger, only sauntering in to provoke it before leaping back.

Ah. It is the tiefling. Beaumains. Less surprising, though you would have bet hard-earned coin on him dogging your shadow, rather than prodding the prince.

You stifle a sigh. That is an unkind assumption. Beaumains, as obnoxious as he can make himself, has professed to turning over a new leaf, to dedicating himself fully to serving Tintagel, and by extension, you. Even at his worst, you would not call him mean-spirited. Between the both of them, it had been Arturius who refuses to warm to your new guard, not the other way around.

Of course, that does not mean Beaumains does not rise to meet the prince’s expectations of him. Or, perhaps more accurately, lowers himself.

“You are not coming,” Arturius fumes through the door, tone utterly final.

The prince is a man who is used to being obeyed, who is used to having the last word if his esteemed brother is not in the room, so it cannot help that Beaumains only laughs, hearty and dismissive.

“It’s my job, Master.”

Armor clinks, hissing against the stone as he moves. “Not if I say it is not.”

“I’d love to see you try and stop me.” You cannot see Beaumains’ face from where you stand, but you know his grin is razor sharp, his body coiled with that dangerous energy of a cat before it pounces.

“I am Arturius, Prince of the Angles,” he says, every word steel, “and if I say you stay, there is no word that may gainsay me, save --”

“You aren’t my prince.”

You can feel the very wind stop at those words, the way the temperature of the chamber drops. You doubt Arturius has ever heard such a thing before.

“I’m no Angle.” Beaumains takes pride in every word; you can nearly see the way his chest puffs out, the way he stares at the Angle’s prince in challenge. Lord be good, but he is asking for a fight.

“Oh, and just what creature do you name yourself, then?” Arturius sniffs, taking yet another clanging step toward him. “A demon?”

“A devil,” Beaumains admits easy enough. “But in your world of man, I’m a...uh...um...”

Obi shoots a helpless look toward Izana.

With a long suffering sigh, Izana picks up yet another snickerdoodle -- his fourth, Shirayuki can’t help but note with pride. “You’re a Pict.”

“Yeah!” Obi whips around, waggling his eyebrows smugly. “I’m...whatever the fuck that is.”

“A Pict.” Mitsuhide squints, chin tilted toward the ceiling as he thinks. “Isn’t that...Scottish?”

“Is it?” Obi’s head swings back, looking wide-eyed at Izana. “Am I?”

Izana lifts his gaze heavenward, hands raised in a despairing shrug, and Shirayuki sees his soul ascend from his body.

“No, aren’t they the, um...predecessor of the Scots in the Highlands?” It’s been two weeks since she read over the player guide, but it sounds right, or at least familiar. “They were in the northern and eastern parts of Scotland from the late Iron Age to early Medieval period, and they’re thought to have eventually folded into the nearby Gael kingdom to--” she looks up, finding everyone staring at her in varying shades of disbelief -- “form...Alba?”

She shrinks, just a little, in her seat. Oh, she’s done it now. Now she’s Hermione Granger, know-it-all extraordinaire.

Zen doesn’t even blink. “Do you just...know all this?”

“You...don’t?” She glances at Izana, only to catch his slack jaw, his raised brows. “It’s...in the supplemental materials. There’s even a map.”

“There’s a map?”

“It’s been on google drive for three years,” Izana reminds him waspishly, well-recovered. “It’s not like I’m hiding it.”

“It’s the same one on Wikipedia,” she offers, though by the annoyance on both their faces, it doesn’t help. “Did any of you read the player guide?”

Everyone makes a good show of looking anywhere but at her or Izana. Well, that certainly answers that question.

“To be fair,” Mitsuhide starts on something suspiciously like a whine, “the player guide wasn’t entirely complete when we started.”

“Oh,” Izana remarked mildly, “is that so?”

The air in the room is tense, a full two degrees cooler than when they started this particular conversation, and --

Obi is oblivious to it. “Does this mean I have a Scottish accent?” He clears his throat, leaning toward her with a throaty, “Ach, lassie, do you ken--?”

“Absolutely not.” Izana turns to her. “In any case, I do believe that Lynet must roll some Stealth, if she means to continue to eavesdrop at the door...”

With a groan that could wake the good neighbors in their barrows, the door falls out from under your hands. Your feet tangle beneath you, tied up in both your skirts and surprise, pitching you forward --

Right into the awaiting arms of Beaumains.

“Why, my lady,” he drawls, entirely too pleased with himself, “falling for me so soon--?”

“Really?” Zen deadpans. “Really?”

Obi leans back for a casual stretch, smile curling his lips. His shirt inches up, bunching around his shoulders, but his button-up is long, covering every inch of him, even where it cuts up at the side.

Not that -- not that Shirayuki is disappointed, or anything. She just couldn’t help but look sitting next to him, that’s all.

“What?” he chuckled, incredulous. “Are you trying to tell me you never wanted to use that line?”

Zen’s mouth opens, closes, and finally settles in a thin line. “Whatever.”

“My dear lady Lynet,” Arturius rumbles, seemingly unsurprised at your appearance, even as you stand stunned in the circle of Beaumains’ arms. “You are just who I had been hoping to see.”

Your heart flutters at that. You will never quite be used to a prince saying such words to you. “Me?”

“It is about your quest,” he says, studiously not looking at the man you are trying to extricate yourself from. It is far harder than it looks, especially since you are trying not to break the prince’s gaze. That seems like it might be...unwisely rude.

“You mean my sister?” Guilt gnaws at you with its tiny teeth; she has been on your mind, yes, and you have felt some impatience, staying here in the castle while she in imperiled in your family home, menaced by the Red Knight, but --

But you have also been distracted, busy with the resources that lay at your fingertips here in Tintagel. At home, you are the only alchemist within miles, with only hedge wizards and herb witches for company, but here --

Ah, now is...not the time to think of such things.

“Are we to leave soon?” you ask, attempting to sound eager. You must miss your mark, for Beaumains smothers a snort. Still, it does not seem that Arturius has noticed.

“Yes, everything is ready for our quest.” The prince favors you with a charming smile, his teeth so white and perfect in his mouth. “However --”

“However, handsome devils aren’t invited,” Beaumains explains, mouth twitching at a corner. He’s been saving that one up, you can tell.

“That’s not --” Arturius bites down on his next words. “There is no point to him going, if he is to guard your person.”

Your eyebrows raise. “Can he do that all the way from Tintagel? Is he the lord God?”

The prince sputters. “No, I only mean, you cannot possibly mean to go, and thus --”

“Excuse me?” Shirayuki doesn’t mean to sound shrill or accusatory, but -- what? “You want me to not play?”

“Of course not!” Zen flushes hot pink from collar to hairline. “I only --”

“Then what are you doing?” she asks. “Why are you trying to get Lynet to stay at Tintagel while the rest of you go on an adventure?”

“I’m roleplaying.” Zen lifts his chin, tone flirting with imperious. “Arturius is --”

“A misogynistic fossil?” Kiki offers helpfully, chin leaning on the back of her hand. “An asshole?”

“Chivalrous, is what I was going to say,” he mutters, annoyed. “It’s only--”

“Huh.” Obi’s brow furrows. “I thought chivalry was about horses.”

“That’s--”

“That’s correct, actually.” Mitsuhide squirms under Zen’s betrayed stare. “I mean, for the time period. Or well, the time period that most of the adaptations would like you to believe. It didn’t have anything to do with, you know, holding doors and stuff until much later.”

Zen swings a pleading look toward his brother, who only shrugs. “I agree with Mitsuhide’s analysis.”

“He is the history minor,” Kiki reminds him. With a small smile, she shifts her gaze to Obi. “Very impressive, Hell Boy.”

He shrugs, grin canting his lips. “Well, you know, I read sometimes.”

“We’re getting off-topic,” Zen interjects, “we were talking about the quest --”

“I am coming,” you inform the prince, as calmly as you can manage. “You cannot believe I would abandon my sister.”

“No, of course not,” Arturius assures you, hand reaching out to cup your elbow, as if you are some horse to be tamed by a touch. “I just did not want to assume--”

“Then you may be well assured I do not mean to stay behind.” You smile, to take away the sting of your words. “Besides, it is I who knows the way to Castle Perilous.”

“Ah, yes.” He grimaces. “I had...forgotten that detail. But no matter. Between myself and my sister and Sir Bedwyr, your safety will be well in hand. We do not need--”

“Beaumains,” you start, enunciating carefully so he may not mistake you, “is coming.”

“What?”

Shirayuki frowns, folding her arms over her chest. “We’re not going to leave Obi out of the game either.”

“I’m not saying we should!” Zen protests, as if he hasn’t spent quarter of an hour trying to make just that point. “He can always sneak along behind us, sent by Uther, or...whatever other shady reason he can come up with! That’s all I mean.”

“I think Obi should be with us from the start,” Shirayuki insists. “It’s mean to treat him like he isn’t part of the party. He’s sitting right here!”

“That’s -- that’s meta gaming!” Zen sputters, cheeks puffing out with annoyance. “Lynet has no reason to trust him!”

That seemed rich from the prince who was ready to trust Lynet the moment she walked into the throne room when his world is populated with evil sorceresses and shape-shifting fey.  “She doesn’t have a reason to not, either!”

“It’s fine, Red.” Obi’s words are light, casual, but the smile he turns on her is tight, pained. “Really. I can just sneak along behind.”

“No.” Shirayuki shakes her head. “Lynet wants him to come.”

Mitsuhide rucks up his mouth, dubious. “He did try to kill you.”

“He wasn’t trying very hard,” she informs him, ignoring the wounded gasp Obi makes next to her. “We’re past that now.”

“‘Kill’ is such a strong word anyway,” Beaumains adds with shrug of his shoulders. “It was really more of a...pointed discouragement. And as my lady says, I currently lack the proper motive to try again.”

“He means money,” Morgaine says to her brother, leading the mounts out from the stables. “In case you were about to take umbrage at the idea that there would be any sufficient motive for harming the Lady Lynet.”

“It still is not sufficient in my mind,” Arturius sniffs, refusing to look at your devilish companion. “Surely he might be tempted again, if offered a kingly sum.”

“Who could offer a more kingly sum than a king?” Beaumains’  mouth twitches as he takes a mare’s lead. “Uther, King of the Angles, is richer than Croesus. And the reward he offers me for keeping my lady safe is sufficient, for my tastes.”

Bedwyr frowns, considering him. “Are we supposed to believe those words from a man so fickle as to change masters for coin?”

“A man who follows money is less fickle than a man who follows his heart.” Beaumains grins at the way Bedwyr twists in discomfort. You sigh; these weeks have proven him a fine enough companion, if one that delights in the perverse, but this -- this is not helping his case.

Arturius’ nose wrinkles in distaste. “And just how is that?”

“You will always know his price,” Morgaine explains calmly. “One more than what he is currently being offered. A moral man will follow his own heart, and only the Lord knows where that might lead him.”

“If that doesn’t put you at ease, Highness.” Ah, how you mislike that smile -- “Then know I have very little motive to ruin a breast so fine as my lady’s for anything less than heaven’s vault.”

Zen whips a hand at Obi, staring at his brother. “Are you going to allow this?”

Izana lets out a long breath, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Shirayuki. Has Beaumains’ comment made you uncomfortable?”

She blinked. “No? He’s talking about Lynet, isn’t he?” It’s not like she has much chest to comment on. “I mean, Lynet is a little peeved, but -- Beaumains is only trying to annoy Arturius.”

“And it’s working,” Kiki observes, lifting a brow at Zen.

“You wound me, my lady,” Obi drawls, pressing a hand to his heart, eyelashes fluttering. “Beaumains is passionate in his devotion to you.”

“To his pocketbook, maybe,” Shirayuki allows.

“You know,” Kiki hums thoughtfully. “I really thought you were more of a butt guy.”

“Yeah,” Zen agrees, “there’s just something about you that says ass.”

“If you are all done speculating on which part of T and A Obi most prefers,” Izana interrupts, long suffering. “I need ride check from all of you.”

“Come on,” Zen sighs, “as if we don’t all have ranks enough to pass a five --”

“Oh, I don’t have ranks in that,” Shirayuki offers as she looks at her sheet. “That means...just dexterity?”

Izana grins. “It sure does.”

Morgaine specially selects the most docile, most trained mare in the stables for you; a pretty thing you never learn the name of, since you throw one leg over it and slip right off the other side. Three times.

“I think,” Bedwyr says in his hesitant, gentle way, which warns you he’s about to say something unpleasant, “that maybe you should share.”

“Oh, pick me, my lady.” Beaumains winks. “I’ll keep you warm.”

Obi waggles his eyebrows. “Beaumains is charged with protecting your body, after all.”

“Ah...” Shirayuki hums. Heat burns at the tips of her ears. She’s tempted, but -- 

“Are you planning on using every bad pick up line you know in this game?” Zen asks, half resigned.

“Well, it’s not like I can use them in real life,” Obi tells him. “I’m not as hot as Beaumains. Get it?”

She stares at him. “I’ll go with Mistuhide.”

The ride is tense as you make your way towards Avalon and the Castle Perilous.

Arturius hunches over his silver mare in the sort of sulk you would expect from a small child denied a sweet, not a prince gently overruled. As if to taunt him, Beaumains keeps pace beside you, chatting with Bedwyr in a way that make you think of a melee rather than a conversation. Although the morning is all water under the bridge for your guard, Bedwyr is eager to put him in place.

It is a many days to your home, and if you must listen to Beaumains’ deft parries to the weapons master’s clumsy thrusts, it will seem even longer still.

You look to Morgaine, seemingly the only reason in this party, but she is straight-backed, wary, eyes scanning the trees around you. It makes you tense as well, hunching close to Bedwyr’s back.

“Is something wrong?” you murmur, gaze fixed to the forest. “Do you see something?”

Morgaine shakes her head. “Listen.”

The die hits the table, spinning on a corner before it settles on a side, setting on the number Shirayuki had been seeing all night. “Oh. A one.”

Zen sighs, burying his head in his arms. “You need to get better dice.”

You strain, but to your ears, there is nothing. “I do not hear a thing.”

“That,” she whispers, mouth pulling into a grim line, “is exactly the point.”

Bedwyr’s back stiffens under you, his conversation with Beaumains stuttering to a halt as he listens. “Ah.”

Still, you hear nothing. “I do not understand.”

“No bird songs,” Bedwyr explains. “Not a one.”

“More than that,” Beaumains says, more serious than you have ever heard him, his amber eyes flicking to every shadow. “No wind.”

Now that you know, the lack of noise unsettles you, makes your skin crawl. You grew up in the woods of Avalon; for one to be so silent is unnatural. “What could--?”

There is a rustling, too loud in the silence, and you hold tight to Bedwyr, burying your face into his back --

“Halt!” a creature shrieks as it bursts from the bush, waving arms as thin as toothpicks.

The prince is at the fore, and so it is his horse that rears at the intrusion, its shriek echoing in the wood. Only expert horsemanship keeps him in his seat, his grip tightening on the reins and thighs squeezing tight to its flanks.

Morgaine is at his side at a moment, her slender hand hovering over the hilt of her blade, putting her mount between the creature and her brother. Though your heart beats as a bird’s wing in your chest, it aches with longing too. You are not so brave, so selfless as she, though you wish you could be. If only you could throw yourself into danger so quickly, perhaps your own sister would not be trapped, would not be at the hands of a man who cared not for her safety, but his own vile ends.

Bedwyr’s mare dances beneath you, his hand hovering at his side, and ah, this might not be the time to be having such regrets. Not when danger is so near.

Your gaze darts to Beaumains beside you, expecting his hands on his knives -- wherever they are -- his back tense and coiled, but --

But he has not moved, not an inch, just staring at the creature with bemusement in the gold of his eyes.

“Announce yourself!” Bedwyr commands, voice ringing through the silence of the wood. “What manner of beast are you?”

“Please, sir,” it begs, ducking its head. Now that it is not moving, not waving its limbs in warning, you can see it is not tall, a head shorter than you, with a stocky body made skeletal by what has to be either starvation or sickness. “I have only come to warn you! You must tread no further in this cursed place, else your very lives will hang in mortal peril!”

Morgaine draws her sword, the magic across its blade making it shine with a deathly sheen. It is the sharpest sword in the Isles, by Bedwyr’s account, having separated dastardly heads from broad shoulders as easy as breathing many times since its making. “He asked what manner of beast you are, sir.”

“Please!” it begs. Against its head, tawny hair clings in tangled whorls, like a man who has been sleeping in the brush for weeks, like a wild creature. “I mean no harm, but you must turn back!”

“Answer.” Arturius draws his own blade, pointing it towards the pitiful creature’s throat. “Or I will cut you down where you stand villain.”

“Wait.”

It is not until every eye has turned to you that you realize you are the one that has spoken, that it is on your word upon which this creature clings to life.

Ah, this is too much responsibility, too much power. How you wish you could have stayed in your Castle Perilous, if this was to be your life outside it.

It is Beaumains’ steady gaze that calms you; there is nothing expectant there, or questioning, just a strange sort of surety, as if he already knows what you might say, as if he already knows you have the right of it.

“I could...” You clear your throat, goading your voice to louder than a whisper. “I will look at him.”

“My lady,” Arturius breathed, shocked. “I could not possibly allow you to near this...this thing alone.”

You draw in a long breath, steeling yourself. “I--”

“Then I’ll go with her.” Beaumains swings himself off his steed with a grace that sends pangs of envy stabbing through you. “Since I’m such a dangerous man myself, there’s no way this pathetic thing could get a drop on me.”

He saunters over with his long-limbed gait; it should look awkward, gangly, but instead it reminds you of how wildcats prowl. He holds his hands up to you, ready to lift you from your saddle as soon as you give word.

Instead, you stare, heat flooding your cheeks as you consider him. “But I beat you.”

“W-well,” he stammers, ducking his chin into his shoulder, looking anywhere but at you. “Those were extenuating circumstances.”

“I tackled you,” you persist, for no reason at all besides that it seems important for him to know. “You were on the ground.”

He let out a disgruntled noise. “I did end up on top --”

“Not to break up this delightful roleplay,” Izana drawls, chin cupped in his hand. “But does Lynet plan on getting off her horse, Shirayuki? Or should I just let Morgaine and Arturius have their way with this creature.”

“Oh!” Shirayuki drags her gaze away from Obi’s, away from where his lips curl, too pleased. “Yes, I’ll, um, get down.”

“Perfect.” Izana’s teeth flash behind his smile. “Then why don’t you roll me...Dexterity.”

“No, wait.” Zen frowns at his brother, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “That isn’t fair! There’s no roll to get off a horse.”

“We’ve already established that Lady Lynet cannot ride on her own,” Izana tells him breezily. “I don’t know why that lack of skill wouldn’t extend to mounting or dismounting.”

Zen’s mouth pulls flat, but he looks away first, cheeks stained an angry red.

“So...?” She darted a glance between the two of them. “Should I...?”

“Oh, by all means.” Shirayuki really does not trust that grin on his face, especially not when Izana purrs, “Please.”

You curse yourself a fool for never taking your riding lessons seriously. Yes, there had been no way to know that you would not always have a riding block to hand, and no way to know that the extent of your excursions would stretch further than the length of your lands but -- still. You were a rambunctious child; surely you should have seen the merit in such a skill, even if your brother would not allow you to sit astride.

Ah, but what a perfect rebellion that would have been: learning to ride like a man. The only blessing you have remaining to you is that at least you are light, for otherwise you doubt Beaumains slender frame would have managed to keep you both upright as you tumble gracelessly into his arms.

“Oh,” he murmurs, chest rumbling beneath your palms. He is still so pleasantly warm, just as he had been when he touched you nights ago in your laboratory, so much more than any man, even Bedwyr.

“M-my apologies,” you stammer, red-faced, your hands itching as you peel them away from his tunic. “That was clumsy of me.”

He lets out a weak laugh, scratching at the back of his head, looking anywhere but at you. “Think nothing of it.”

“Need you be reminded,” Morgaine calls out, half amused, “that we are holding this creature at sword point, awaiting your counsel?”

“Oh!” You hurry forward, bag clanking at your hip, Beaumains just behind. “Yes, it’s only -- I think I know what he is. Or rather -- who he is.”

“I have to roll for this, don’t I?” Shirayuki picks up her d20 rolling it thoughtfully around her palm. “It’s, um...”

“Knowledge Nature,” Izana tells her gently. “Or maybe Knowledge Arcana. Possibly even Spellcraft, if we want to get down to it.”

She hesitates, the die’s corners digging into her fingers. “I have all of those. Is one better?”

“Each one gets you different information.” Mitsuhide leans over the table, pulling her sheet between them. “See how there’s so many knowledges? Each one corresponds to a type of creature, or sometimes items, or related topics. Nature is for natural creatures -- humans, animals, things we see in the real world -- and Arcana is for magical beasts, or constructs. That sort of thing.”

There’s so many on her sheet, with things like dungeoneering or planes that don’t seem to have much to do with creatures at all, but she nods. That makes...some sort of sense, at least. “What about Spellcraft?”

“That identifies a spell.” He gives her a gentle smile, and it occurs to her that she doesn’t know what Mitsuhide’s major is, but he should really consider teaching. “Sometimes, if you roll nigh enough when an enemy caster is casting, you can learn the spell, or counter it.”

That sounds...useful. Good thing she took a bunch of ranks in that. “Can I only pick one?”

“By all means.” Izana leans forward, just slightly, and she realizes -- he’s interested. She’s doing something he didn’t expect. “Roll all three.”

“He looks like a dwarf,” you say, shaking your head. “But he is not, only a man.”

Arturius blinks down, uncomprehending. “Are you to say that he is short?”

“Aye me,” Morgaine sighs, “of course you are preoccupied by such a thing.”

“Dear sister--”

“No,” you interject, before either of them can start an argument. “He is under a curse. A terrible one.”

“By who?” Arturius’ mouth pulled long, his eyes searching the forest’s edge. “A sorcerer? A fey?”

You shake your head. “I do not know its cause. It was done by one with more powerful magicks than myself. All I know is that his shape has been changed, and he is cursed to not be able to speak of his affliction.”

“Sounds fey enough to me,” Morgaine mutters darkly, eyeing the poor man. With a sigh she sheathes her blade, dismounting her steed to help him to his feet. “Come, what is it you warn us of?”

“Plague!” he rasps. “There is a plague at Laxdo.”

Silence reigns in the forest for a long moment. Laxdo, who had long been an ally to your house, who had long been an ally to the throne, now brought low by unknown hands. It could not be anything less than disturbing for the prince and his sister.

“We do not know if he speaks the truth,” Morgaine reminded him. “Not all is lost. This may yet be the trick of his master.”

“He wears their livery,” Bedwyr offers grimly, mouth set in a grave line across his handsome face.

Arturius takes in a long breath, serious. “We must go there --”

“Hold up, hold up.” Obi waves his hands, giving the rest of the table an incredulous glance. “A plague? Like, One to Black Death, where does this thing stack on the disfiguring disease-o-meter?”

“First off.” Izana ticked the point on his fingers. “Bubonic plague is not a number, and thus your scale is invalid.”

“Is your deal called dungeon master or dungeon pedant?” Obi gives him a flat look. “You know what I mean.”

“Unfortunately, I do.” His expression may be long-suffering, but as Izana flicks up a second long finger, his lip twitches. Just a bit. “Secondly, the situation is a little more complex than rate-my-plague.”

“Still,” Zen insists, surprisingly taking Obi’s side. “The dwarf-man should be able to give us some sort of, you know, gauge.”

“Your unnamed friend has no basis for comparison,” Izana informs them easily, thumbing at the corner of his notes. “He admits, quite sorrowfully, that he does not regularly engage with plagues.”

Obi’s mouth pulls flat. “Listen, let me be real with you, chief. Beaumains only has twelve Con, so I’m just looking for how deadly this whole little soiree is going to be for me, personally.”

“Well --”

“You have twelve Con?” Kiki breaks in, incredulous. “Don’t you fight with knives? Aren’t you a strike-style fighter? How did you expect to survive?”

“I-I’m nimble,” he says, drawing himself up defensively. “And I have illusion magic!”

She stares at him. “Your plan was to just not get hit?”

Shirayuki hadn’t been sure in the car, but she’s sure now -- Obi is blushing. “I mean, yes.”

“That’s a really dumb plan!”

“Well, I know that now,” he gripes, folding his arms across his chest. “It just didn’t seem important at the time!”

“Hit points didn’t seem important at the time?” she deadpans. “Whatever, we will fix this next level. And we’re buying you a belt.”

“Aw, but I was going to buy a Dex--”

“You are getting a Belt of Mighty Constitution and that is--”

“How about instead of worrying about what you will buy next level,” Izana suggests, far too calm. “You worry about surviving to see it.”

“We must go there,” Arturius says again, this time more certain. “We must save Laxdo from this evil.”

“Great,” Beaumains grumbles, levering up to his feet. “Just how I’ve always wanted to die -- in a ditch, covered in boils.”

#obiyukibingo2019 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #Dungeons & Dragons AU #my fic #ans #i saw that camelot square and was like #gasppppppp #i know what i'm using THAT for #please enjoy as I try to wind canon and arthurian myth into one neat little bow #i had so many wiki tabs open planning this chapter #SO MANY

[rifleshotsandflowerpots-blog]

Pour Me Another

In which Jade visits Dirk at the bar and they drink while sharing feelings. Also a brief meeting of Arquius. @sangriaprince​ @aihorse100seinamanor​

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/06/2019

> You need a drink. Or five. This week's been trying and while talking to PI when he came to your shop helped, it still was painful. You... haven't even gotten to see her yet. Droog is still with her body; you can't blame him, not one bit. You admittedly don't know if you want to see her corpse.  > So thus, you need those drinks. And maybe a friend too. Hence you going to the Angel's bar closer to the end of his shift. You dress a little more modestly, hair still pinned up, but you keep on your glasses tonight. If you pass out drunk you don't want contacts in again. 

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/06/2019

> It's a little tough having to run this singlehandedly now, especially when you've got a shot leg. Regardless, you shuffle through and sigh.  > When you see Jade walk in through the entrance, you can't help but smile. You walk over to the counter after whipping up a Manhattan -- just like how you and she first met -- and you place it in front of her.  ".. hey..."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/06/2019

> You smile back, taking the drink with a wink. Man he knows you so well at this point huh?~  "Hey yourself. Hope you don't mind be coming by. Felt like seeing a friend tonight."

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/06/2019

> Shake your head, and shrug, leaning against the counter to let off the weight off your leg. "Nah, of course not. Why'd I turn down a visit from Jade?"

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/06/2019

"Heh, Flatterer~" > You take a sip from your drink; still the best Manhattan around. "It's just... been a long week for me. You?"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/06/2019

> Shrug again, running a hand through your hair. "I getcha. I may not know what's up with your side of the city, but it's been a week for me too."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/06/2019

"Oh? Well now I'm curious~" > You grin as you study him. He... looks tired actually. Poor guy; was he working more than he should? "Anything you'd be willing to tell a friend about?~"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/06/2019

> Sift through the information you can tell her without giving too much. > Smile a little, putting away a few glasses that were left on the counter. "Well, I had to force myself to take a leave to attend to some business. I do robotics as a hobby, you know. Had to make something for an old close friend."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/06/2019

"Ooh robotics huh?" > That sounds really neat, if illegal. Not that you care! You keep your vice low, just in case. "Were you successful? It's not easy finding certain pieces yknow?"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/06/2019

> Nod. "It was easy when you know someone with the knack for technology.

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> That made sense. "That's good! How'd your friend take to your finished project?"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

"Not that well. It's temporary anyway, so when I can again, I'll work on it again." > Clear your throat as you mix up a single drink -- your hours are almost over anyway, you can have one for yourself. "And then other things happened and said buddy is taking care of me. Helping me out with things that don't concern the bar."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> You frown a little as you drink a little more from your glass. "Hmm, well I hope your friend didn't rag on you too much; you need a real good dealer for the good materials these days." > Wait taking care of him is that why he leaning who tried harming your friend? "Hope you aren't too hurt then?"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

"It wasn't the material really, it was more of the model itself. But he's telling me not to focus on it yet, so there's that." > Chuckle and nod. "Nothing too bad. It was just a bit of a stab to the knee, but it'll heal."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

"Eh?! Dirk a stab to a knee can be pretty bad!" > You would know; you've stabbed many people this way. " You sure you should be walking around tonight??"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> You nod again, taking a sip of your tequila. "Yes, I'm fine. I had a day's rest and I'm alright. Nothing too much."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> You pull a face at him but don't press. You are far too familiar with the Strider Stubbornness after all " Well then, anything else of note happened?"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

"..." > Clear your throat again and shrug. "... I think I found my bro."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> Blink. Blink again. "Wait but--" > Lowers voice again "I thought you said he died??? Is he this world's version ooor...???"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

"I know what I said." > Push shades up and pinch the bridge of your nose. "I know what I said... What I still don't know is that if he's actually my bro, or some other guy from another universe. I just... It sucks, Jade. To think I was such an idiot and wanted to approach him immediately?" > Cover your eyes. "God. Made the guy uncomfortable as fuck -- he's more open to Sock now, for Christ's sake, so much for being a great bro."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> Swirl your glass before downing the rest and reaching for his hand. "Dirk you're not an idiot. Not by a long shot. You're human; of course when you see someone that have been your Bro  you'd war to meet him!" "So you made him uncomfortable; that was an accident! I don't know what you said but may be just give it time. Okay?

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> When she takes your hand you lower the one over your eyes and you look at her tiredly, gaze flickering from her to your hands before you sigh.   > You nod lightly. "Yeah... Yeah, I'll give it time. Thanks."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> You give him a soft smile; though one that slowly fades from your face. "Besides, at least you still have a chance to speak with him, even if you have to wait..." > Now it's your turn to bow your head. "I.... don't.  Not anymore."

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> You know. But she doesn't know that. > So instead, you lean a little closer, sympathy on your face as you frown a little. "... What do you mean?"

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> You can't give all the details. Besides it still hurts to talk about it. > But isn't that why you're here? "My friend... she passed away recently."

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> Hearing it from someone who wasn't responsible for the death was... An experience, to say the least. > You frown a little bit more, looking around only to find the bar almost empty, so you limp your way to the back, grabbing a bottle of sipping whiskey and two glasses with ice before you move to go around, gritting your teeth everytime your leg feels the weight, and you sit beside her, pouring whiskey for the both of you. "... Do you want to talk about it?"

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> It was an experience wasn't it? And strangely enough, it's similar to how you felt when your Grandpa died. > You note his leg and feel that Dirk was downplaying his injury, but you take the whiskey with a murmured thanks. "...she was my friend. A very close one. We were supposed to meet up on New Years Eve, but she was late. That wasn't like her, not without telling." "...later I got a text from her dad that she was d-dead." > You knock back the whiskey, pretending the burn is why your eyes get teary

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> You sip your drink, carding a hand through your hair as you lower your shades and sigh. > You want to smoke. > But you move your free hand to rest on Jade's shoulder over her back and you give it a squeeze. "... can I ask if this was related to the fire?"

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> Fire? Ah, yeah, that was in the papers wasn't it? Aradia's name nor her murder was but there was all sorts of speculations. "Kinda... she wasn't burned... actually I'm not even sure how she died, other than she was killed." > You lean into Dirk as you clutch your glass "She was a good person; it shouldn't have been her time..."

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> You know too much and when Jade leans into you, you just pull her close, tucking her head beneath your chin. "... I know how that feels." > You close your eyes. "... and I'm so sorry."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> You're not able to say much, not with your throat constricting and tears threatening to spill once more. > Instead you just wrap your arms around him and hug trying to show your appreciation all the same

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> ... > You lower your glass and you wrap your now free arm around her, rubbing her back and burying your face into her hair. > This was the least you could do.

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> You probably stay like that for a few minutes before reluctantly pulling away. "Heh, sorry; didn't mean to cry on you." > You've been doing that too much. You gotta stop that...

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> You let her pull away if she wants, but the arm closer to her stays on her shoulder. > You shake your head and you give her a small smile. "We all need to let it out sometimes. It's better if you do, instead of bottling it up, you know."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> You don't mind the arm there; it's genuinely comforting "I suppose so... though then you should probably take your advice too.: > You gently prod his chest with a finger "I feel like finding your Brother is more of a bigger deal than you let on Dirk."

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> The prod makes you chuckle and you shake your head. "I don't know." > You shrug and let out a heavy sigh. "I'll let it do it's own thing for now. Approach him when it's under better circumstances."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

"That sounds safe. Besides maybe observing from a distance will help you figure out exactly who he is." > Information is always vital in situations like this "Though I gotta admit, the city is starting to get real crowded with all you Striders~"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> That draws another chuckle from you. "It sure is, huh? All seven of us... wow."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

"Seven?" > Wait did you miscount? Dirk, Dave, Sock, Sock's brother, the Hal guy, now Dirk's brother... maybe Cal? But you don't know if he knows Cal so...? "Who's Strider Number Seven then?~"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

"There's me, Dave, Sock, the other Dirk, his Hal, me, my Hal -- of which I call Arq -- and then maybe my bro." > Shrug.

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

"Oh! I didn't know you had a Hal of your own." > puts two n two together "Wait is this Arq the friend you were helping then?"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> Nod. "He's the one."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

"Sooo does that mean you were building a robotic body for him?"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

"Yes."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

"... cool." > giggles suddenly! "What's he like your Hal??"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

"Well, for one thing, he isn't Hal anymore. Due to consuming some data, I've asked him if he wanted to be known by another name. So I call him Arquius now." > Card a hand through your hair. "He's AI I developed way back when."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

"Arquius is a unique name~" > Kinda sounds like Equius. What an odd coincidence! "Oh! Then did he come with you when you.... first arrived here?"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> Shake your head. "No, he came after. He... he came for me."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> Oh shit "Dirk, does that mean there's a way back... to the other place?" > Hey there's still one or two bodies around

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> Chew on the inside of your cheek. "It looks like it. But he's .. he's been having trouble with his plans.."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

"Oh..." > You feel... odd about this. You would be happy for him to go home, but you feel you'd miss him terribly "Well.... what sort of trouble?"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

"It's not really trouble? More of like... things stopping him from doing his plans with the danger of him being reprogrammed." > Take a loooooong sip and sigh as you put the glass down.  "And I'm scared to lose him that way."(edited)

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> Being reprogrammed? Oh no that doesn't sound great at all "I'm sorry Dirk... maybe... you can save some of the way he is? Just in case?" > You don't know if that is morally wrong?? Wow you need more of that whiskey

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

"He told me he already had it backed up, so I trust him." > Pour yourself and her another glass of that whiskey. "I just... don't think I'll be able to handle that."(edited)

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

"Honestly I don't think I would either." > Leans against him as you take a sip "Is there no chance to protect him form that?"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> You chuckle dryly. "If there was a chance or a way, I would have done everything."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> That's a good point. You fucking idiot. "I'm sorry Dirk, I really hope your friend will be safe."

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> But maybe you haven't done everything. > Though you don't know how to make him seem loyal to the Felt without pissing him off to the next planet. > ... You wish it never came to this. > You lower your head. "I hope so, too."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> Oh, you made him sad didn't you? > ...gently hugs him again because hugs are good; and you give the best hugs "Hey, whatever happens, you can get through it. You survived a lot so far Dirk. I doubt it's been easy but if you can handle that, you can handle this too."

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> You return the hug, giving her a gentle squeeze before you sigh. "... thanks Jade."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

"No problem." > You give him another smile as you let go before downing your glass "...think you're off shift now?~"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> You look at your wrist watch and chuckle. > Nod. "Yeah. I'm off now."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

"Awesome." > Stands to stretch a bit "Wanna go to another bar then?"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> You shake your head. "I'd rather not tonight. Not with this leg."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> Oh right that leg! Hmm... "How about I help you back to your apartment then?"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

"I can handle." > Shrug and get up, moving to bring the glasses to the back again. "You go on ahead."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

"Dirk you dumbass." > Gives him such a Look "You're not going to get home at a reasonable time without help."

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> You roll your eyes and shake your head. "Alright, alright. Geez."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> Helps him up all the same > You are unapologetic. Nope! Not one bit. "Time to go home Strider~"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> Chuckle as you set away the glasses. > Lean a little against her. "I hear ya Harley."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> Giggles and helps him out of the bar > Hey, maybe you'll get a glimpse of this Arq guy~

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> You make your way to the apartment and you unlock the door. "Well, we're here."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> Hums a little as he opens the door "You sure you're gonna be okay? You better rest your leg."

♠ Leo ♠ (CA/AD/KV/PSI/ARQ)01/07/2019

> You are somewhere. You are places. > You are Arq, you watch.

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> You nod, giving her a small smile. "I will. Thanks again."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> Gives him a bright smile! "It's no problem; happy to help a friend~" > Smile turns a little more softer "Chin up okay? If you do, I will too."

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> You nod and you give her one last hug. "Yeah. We can do this."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> Accepts the hug!!! "We can!~" > Presses a smooch to his cheek before letting go "Have a good night Dirk."

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> >:O > Return the smooch. > Pull away as well. "See ya."

♠ Leo ♠ (CA/AD/KV/PSI/ARQ)01/07/2019

"That is adorable. Is that your girlfriend, bro?" > Eyes glow in the dark. SMILE.

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> Jumps slightly, nearly pulling out a knife "Uh... Dirk...? Is that Arquius or....?" > Look if you gotta stab someone--!

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> You roll your eyes. "Yes, it's Arquius." > Turn to look inside. "And no, she's not my girlfriend, Arq."

♠ Leo ♠ (CA/AD/KV/PSI/ARQ)01/07/2019

>Tilt your head, eyes still glowing red in the dark, you haven't moved besides that. "Then who is she?" >That's a false statement, you know her name. At least you have seen her online, well not her, but Equius has which makes it easy crunchy info for you.

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

"I'm Jade! Though you probably knew that already?" > If he's an AI it's probably bound to happen right? At least, you assume he knows the basic stuff "Nice to meet you!"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> Sigh softly. "She's a good friend."

♠ Leo ♠ (CA/AD/KV/PSI/ARQ)01/07/2019

"You are quite smart, that is excellent. I STRONGLY support this friendship." > finally step out of the dark to a more visible and comfortable spot for all parties.  "Nice to meet you too." >Offer handshake.(edited)

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> Gives a pleasant smile! A friend of Dirk's is a friend of yours! "Thank you! I try~" > Ooh he looks neat! Shakes the offered hand!!

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> Smile a little. "Good to know you like her too."

♠ Leo ♠ (CA/AD/KV/PSI/ARQ)01/07/2019

"Of course, I would. I don't see why not." > You like the strong handshake! "Fricking fantastic. Thanks for keeping him safe out there"

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> Handshakes are hugs for your hands! And you do give good hugs~ "I try my best to!~ I hope you're able to make sure Dirk rests his leg though."

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> Chuckle awkwardly. > Well it's not like Arq didn't already know about the leg.

♠ Leo ♠ (CA/AD/KV/PSI/ARQ)01/07/2019

"Oh I will, I will command him to rest and dunk him to bed, and call him a noob if he doesn't"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> BI

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> Giggles!!! "That sounds very effective! I leave Dirk in your capable hands then~"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> BI

♠ Leo ♠ (CA/AD/KV/PSI/ARQ)01/07/2019

"Thank you, do keep taking care of him from the dangers of the wild, he  might break if you look at him for too long tho"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/07/2019

> Pinch the bridge of your nose. "Alright that's enough. Time for Jade to go home."

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/07/2019

> GIGGLES MORE!  > Sorry Dirk he makes a good point~ "I promise to do my best Sir~" "Aw alright fiiine~"

January 8, 2019

♠ Leo ♠ (CA/AD/KV/PSI/ARQ)01/08/2019

"Bro, you sure know how to be a party pooper. Anyway this was a pleasure Jade. I'll see you eventually."

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/08/2019

> >B/

🌺 Shadow 🌺 (Jade/Skylla)01/08/2019

"Pleasures all mine Sir!~ Hope to see you soon then." > A wink n a smile Dirk's way "Sweet dreams Strider~"

Avery (PS/Sol/Dirk/Disci/CS)01/08/2019

> Smile in her direction. "See you around, Harley."

♠ Leo ♠ (CA/AD/KV/PSI/ARQ)01/08/2019

> Wave goodbye!

#logs #backlog #Aradia death #sangriaprince #aihorse100seinamanor

[iamartemisday]

Fic Title: "I'm a Little Rusty" (choose your fandom/ship)

This got so long and I’m so sorry. :D

Hmmm… okay, for some reason, I’m getting biker AU, so let’s go with that.

So Jane is a grad student working towards her doctorate in astrophysics.  Across the street from her apartment building is a mechanic who specializes in motorcycles.  As you can imagine, that means Jane’s block is often occupied by enormous bearded, leather wearing biker guys.  While most of them are pretty nice under those rough and tough exteriors, the constant noise of revving engines and loud music playing really isn’t conducive to all night study sessions.  The nearest library is ten miles away, and Jane can’t really afford to live anywhere else when she’s already struggling to pay her tuition.  

There is, at least, one bright spot to the whole thing that makes it all worth.  That would be the mechanic himself, one James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes.  Jane is not ashamed to admit that she’s more than once peeked out the window to watch him work under the hot sun, all sweaty with his shirt off.  The fact that he’s so sweet and charming in addition to being ridiculously hot just drives her nuts.  Someday, she knows, she’ll have the courage to ask him out.  Or at least talk to him for more than five seconds at a time.

It would be great, because she’s still trying to get over her last relationship, if you could even call it that.  

See, about a year ago, Jane attended class with this one annoying guy who was not only an ass, but also liked to think he was smarter than her.  He wasn’t, of course, though he was smarter than everyone else in the class, including probably the teacher.  His name was Loki Odinson.  He was the son of a billionaire well on his way to a lofty position in his daddy’s company.  Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he’d probably never work a real day in his life and would go on having everything handed to him and being the good obedient second son that she’s pretty sure he’s always been.

I mean yeah, there’s that rumor that he ran away when he was in his late teens and just completely disappeared off the face of the earth until suddenly popping back up three years later, but even if that was true, Jane doubts it would mean anything.  He was probably just on a private island somewhere the whole time.

Anyway, Jane ended up having to work with him on a big final project at the end of the semester.  Of course, they started fighting almost immediately because of course, Loki took every opportunity to be an ass and antagonize her for his own sick pleasures.

Of course, this led to many instances of wild sex on the couch or the table or occasionally a bed, but that didn’t mean anything.  Preppy pretty boy or no, Loki was extremely handsome and an amazing lover.  He could keep up with her intellectually and after a while, she’s able to recognize that his many snide remarks are just his weird way of flirting with her, and maybe she actually likes their little snarkfests.  It certainly keeps things interesting.

Then the day of graduation comes, and Loki completely ignores her.  He never looks at her once, and he blows off dinner with her (their first ‘official’ date).  He only tells her later that he enjoyed their many romps in the sack but it’s probably time to move on now to other things.  

Jane is pissed, and she shows it with her words and her hand on his face.  She runs home shocked at how miserable being dumped by a fuckbuddy makes her feel.  Because maybe, just maybe, she really was starting to feel something more…

But that was then, and this is now.  Now, there’s a guy who actually isn’t an elitist douche.  A guy whom she comes to find, after working up the nerve to talk to him, is extremely interested in her field of study, even if he doesn’t know much about it himself.  Jane finds herself going over to Bucky’s garage more and more.  They talk about everything well into the night and until the sun comes up.  He might not be able to discuss complex astrophysical equations with her like Loki did, but he listens to everything she says, he asks questions, he takes book recommendations from her and actually reads the books.  In return, she starts learning more about his hobbies.  They ride around on his motorcycle.  Jane quickly gets over her fear of falling off thanks in part to getting to hold onto him and wrap her arms around his stomach (and holy shit his abs are amazing…).  

It seems like they’re well on their way to a new romance blooming… and then Jane goes into one of her doctorate classes on day, and is horrified to find a brand new student sitting in the chair next to hers.

“Hello there, Jane,” Loki says.  “Fancy seeing you here.”

Jane doesn’t know what the hell to do, and no matter how many times Loki smugly denies it, she just knows he bribed his way into her class just to get under her skin.  She doesn’t understand why when he’s the one who dumped her, but it’s too late for her to transfer to another professor’s class and there’s no way she’s dropping.  Loki, the bastard, surely knows this.  

But it’s okay, because Jane has a new guy now, one a thousand times the man Loki Odinson will ever be.  And she’d happy flaunt it in Loki’s stupid face, but Bucky… he hasn’t been himself lately.  

A good friend of his in the biker scene was recently found dead, and there are strong indications that it wasn’t an accident.  For a while now, Jane’s been hearing stories about this old gang from a few years back.  They were infamous and had ties to several unsolved murders before up and disappearing one day as the members either died or were arrested on lesser charges.  Now, it seems, the remnants of the HYDRA gang are coming back.  

Jane tries to ask Bucky about it, but he’s very adamant about not knowing about it.

“I’ve got nothing to do with that,” he says.  “I’m just a mechanic.”

Okay, that’s not a suspiciously specific denial.  So Jane goes to do a little research of her own.  She chats with a few local bikers, the nicer ones who are just big teddy bears and also pretty loose lipped after one or two drinks.  That’s when Jane gets the real story behind her mild mannered mechanic friend.

It seems that some years ago, there were two bikers roaming the streets who were sort of like vigilantes.  Together, they took down ten gangs (that is the number confirmed at least and rumor has it the real number is upwards of fifty).  They weren’t just bikers, but also skilled fighters who could take down twenty men on their own with ease.  One of them, a cold, silent figure, was known on the streets as ‘Winter Soldier’.  

Apparently, he had once been forced into the HYDRA gang as a getaway driver in order to protect his family and his best friend, who was very sickly and lived with them following the deaths of his parents.  For over a year, he participated in unspeakable crimes at their behest.  Much as it pained him, he had no choice if he wanted to secure his family’s safety.

One day, he made a mistake, and one of HYDRA’s most valuable members was shot down by the police because of his error.  The next day, the entire Barnes household went up in flames with everyone inside.  Filled with rage, Winder Soldier swore avenge them and everyone else who had suffered at HYDRA’s hands.  He would hunt down and kill every last one of them if it took him the rest of his life

Unfortunately for him, HYDRA went into hiding afterwards to regroup, and Winter Soldier had no idea where they had gone.  While hunting a possible lead one night, the story goes that he happened upon another biker.  This one didn’t have a grudge against HYDRA, but he was intrigued by Winter Soldier’s purpose.  He agreed to help him capture and interrogate his target.  Through their combined efforts, they managed to extract all necessary information, and thus, a new partnership was born.

Now, very little was known about this other biker.  Some say he was the son of a crime boss who had been adopted by a wealthy family, only to discover his origins and track down his real father to kill him.  Since the boss’s name was Laufey, his supposed son and killer earned the moniker, Laufeyson.

Together, Winter Soldier and Laufeyson were a fierce and unstoppable duo.  They say that Laufeyson had the sharp, silvertongue of a snake while Winter Soldier did all the physical work, but others claim that the Soldier was a natural charmer and that Laufeyson could break someone’s arm like it was a toothpick.

For three years, they roamed the streets, until all the major crime rings in the area were defeated, and then, as quickly as they came, they vanished.  To this day, no one knows what happened to Winter Soldier and Laufeyson.

Jane hears this story and doesn’t know what to think.  Could it be that her friend Bucky is the Winter Soldier?  She knows that he doesn’t have any family, and she’s seen his pictures with that old friend of his, Steve.  Could it be that they were all really killed by a crime ring and that he’d killed them in return?

And what about Laufeyson?  Whatever happened to him?

Jane starts to go home for the night, only to be ambushed by a group of men in black.  They drag her screaming into the street.  Men in coats with hydras drawn on surround her.  

‘So you’re their little girlfriend,’ one says.

Their?  What does that mean?

Before Jane can speak, one of the men slumps over, bleeding from the side of the head.  Instantly, another man wrapped in shadow jumps into battle with the HYDRA goons, taking them all down one by one until no one is left standing.  The last one to fall manages one word before losing consciousness.

“Laufeyson…”

So this is him then.  This is Laufeyson.  Somehow, he came back just to save her from certain death.

But it can’t be, can it?  Why after all this time would he come back?  Did Bucky know about this?

“Come with me,” he says softly.  It sounds like he’s disguising his voice.  He has a mask on, so Jane can’t see his face.  She takes his hand and lets him lead her to his bike.  He’s not wearing any gloves, so his bare skin touches her.

He drives her home.  She hadn’t given him directions.  He lets her off and speeds away.  Jane watches him go.  She looks at Bucky’s shop across the street, but all the lights are off and he’s probably home by now.  It doesn’t matter.  Jane already has an answer to her biggest question of the evening, even if she can scarcely believe it to be true.

Because his hands.  She’d know those hands anywhere.

She can’t even look Loki in the eye the next day.  

The scary thing is that the more she thinks about it, the more sense it makes.  She looks into the crime reports from the years Winter Soldier and Laufeyson were active, and yup, they coincide exactly with the years Loki was missing.  He had always seemed remarkably strong and agile for a spoiled ‘no day job’ rich guy.  He’d known the streets better than she had despite not growing up on them.  HYDRA started popping up right around the time of their graduation.  Did it make sense that he’d think playing the asshole to break her heart would keep her out of harm’s way?  Yeah, it kind of did.

So if Bucky is Winter Soldier, and Loki is Laufeyson, and HYDRA is coming back and rebuilding their crime organization, what does that mean for Jane?

Well eventually, it means waking up in the middle of the night to a chloroform rag pressed against her nose.  It means waking up again in an underground bunker somewhere, caged up as bait for the two men she loves most in the world.  

It means that Bucky will be in his garage, with a crumpled photo of Jane bound and blindfolded next to the unmarked envelope it came in.  He’s tearing everything apart in impotent rage because again.  It’s happening again.  HYDRA, those monsters, they’re going to take away another person he loves.  Just when he thought he was free and all of them were gone and he could build a new life with the girl of his dreams.  

A shadow appears over his head.  He swings his fist around, but the punch is stopped by a hand closing around his.  Loki smiles at him.

“You haven’t lost your touch, James,” he says.

Bucky twists his hand away.  “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Now, don’t be like that.  We’re friends.”

“I have bigger things to worry about right now than you.”

Loki’s face darkens.  “You mean this?”  And he holds up the exact same photo of Jane.

“Where did you get that?” Bucky demands.

“Same place as you I assume.”

“Why would they send it to you?”

Loki chuckles. “Come now, didn’t Jane mention me?  I believe it would’ve been in the context of, ‘that bastard ex who broke my heart’.”

Bucky’s eyes widen.  “That was you?”

“It appears we share a lot more than a dark and dirty past, my friend,” Loki says solemnly.  “We have a very similar taste in women.”

Bucky shakes his head.  Runs a hand through his hair.  It’s getting too long, but Jane always liked it that way.  “What the hell are we going to do?”

“Same thing we always do,” says Loki.  “We’re going to find our enemy and destroy them, and we’re going to save our Jane.  And we’re going to make sure that this time, when we cut their heads off, nothing takes their place.”

He’s smiling again, a bloodthirsty grin Bucky knows too well, and one he is happy to return.  He goes to the corner where there’s a blanket over an ‘old bike’ of his.  He pulls it off and brushes dust away from the red star logo on the side.  

“You kept your bike, right?” asks Winter Soldier.

“What sort of fool do you take me for?” says Laufeyson.

They rise again.  

**

Aaaand that had absolutely nothing to do with your title at all, did it?.  Oh well.  Sorry about that.

#ghostofstartraveller776 #Jane Foster #Loki #Bucky Barnes #Lokane #BuckyxJane #Winter Solstice #biker AU #fic I won't write #but that I now actually want to write #damn you brain #I have so many WIPs...

[damescapades-parttwo]

#1

It's been a little over a week, and I don't miss ice as much as I thought I would. It only took four trips out of the country for longer periods of time for this acceptance to take root. How have you bettered yourself this year?

This blogging adventure will be a bit different than the past as WordPress has decided to turn my beautiful blog into a horrible modge-podge of broken photo links. I'm currently debating on trying to switch all of my photos to tumblr, but also... that's a lot of work! If you're new to my blog, go check out the past writing! (and whatever photos are left.) I arrived on April Fool's Day to Sweden with, potentially, the best long haul flight experience of my life. A few glasses of wine and a forensic scientist to chat with while drinking said wine, followed by a entire row of airplane seats to myself, a sweet, new Norwegian airplane, and a completely edible in-flight breakfast maybe set the mood. While here, I'll be working within the Center for the Future of Places at KTH Royal Institute of Technology on the beginnings of my thesis for concurrent Master of Landscape Architecture and Master of Urban Design & Planning degrees I'm set to complete this December. (almost eight years of post secondary education coming to culmination is exciting and unnerving.) I'm super psyched to be here and working around/with the talented researchers, PhD students, and professors at KTH and specifically within the CFP! EVERYONE wants to know what I'm researching and writing about... as do I. :) Psych, I kinda know. I’m exploring the concept of multifunctionality in relation to public space planning and design; specifically, how can public space be planned and designed with both the environment and social aspects as imperative? What can be learned from Stockholm’s historical approach to planning/designing its park system, but also is the future better addressing this discourse? Multifunctionality, in this sense, is alluded to with a sustainable design model of planning and development, but still, is not prioritized over economic aspects of public space. Spaces that have been deemed multifunctional (environmentally and socially) have not been as successful. I plan to analyze (hopefully two!) at least one project current project, the Royal Seaport. I am also looking at a few of the older developments, such as Hammarby Sjőstad. Hopefully, by analyzing Stockholm as a case study to the concept of embedding multifunctionality within the planning and design processes, more research can be established to further the sustainability and resilience (buzzwords, I know,) of urban spaces.

I have a feeling this will continually morph while I am here in Stockholm as I meet and speak with more and more people at KTH and across the city. I also have a whole proposal and powerpoint if you want to see either :) My first 10 days have been pretty uneventful for me personally, while the city of Stockholm has been affected by an act of terrorism. For those of you who do not follow the news, a beer truck was hijacked while unloading on Drottninggatan, one of the most populated and central shopping streets in the city, killing and injuring many before crashing into Åhléns, a large department store, adjacent to T-Centraalen (central station.) The incident happened Friday around 3pm, and completely shut down all public transportation for five or six (?) hours. It was quite shocking, as Stockholm is known for being very safe and welcoming. I unexpectedly walked by the memorials at Sergels Torg/Åhléns on Sunday while roaming; it was uplifting to see how many people seemed to be coming from all over via the tunnelbana with flowers to be placed on the steps and on police vehicles. I have one (lousy) photo; I didn’t feel very comfortable taking any (even though *everyone* was,) combined with the fact that there was a huge mass of people wanting to pay their respects.

On my end, I have walked quite a bit - my phone is telling me I’m hitting ~12,000 steps a day. I was taking the tunnelbana more the first few days, but the sunshine is so nice!!!! (Seattle-deprived ftw.) Safe to say jaywalking is a thing here, and pedestrians are truly put first. I’m usually a walker, but I have been much more aimless this time around as time is rarely an issue. Perhaps that is a highlight of my past week: I have not had this much free time, mostly light on the obligations, to enjoy a city like this; since, well, pretty much forever, I have stayed busy with LOTS of obligations. I’m enjoying walking around, mostly to different parks, and people watching, a favorite hobby of mine. I’ve made it my mission to explore one new park (sometimes public space, but not as imperative,) a day, and I’ve definitely experienced at least one a day thus far. (more on that below!)

For entertainment, most of you might have already heard via Facebook, but I have had the privilege of attending my first yoga class… taught in Swedish. It was a true wtf the moment as the class started and the instructor started moving and then speaking in Swedish; by that point, it was too late to run out, and, honestly, I think my brain was a little slow on the uptake that I would not be able to follow the movements without looking up constantly. I struggled, but am now signed up for (at least) weekly English yoga classes.

I haven’t had any grand stories at the supermarket either (which in the past has been a common occurrence.) I’ve stuck to whole foods, not processed or really any junk food. There are many supermarkets to choose from nearby where I am staying, of which are on the smaller side (normal.) This makes it easier when choosing items; I have less options to stare at for long periods of time trying to find English on the labels at all, consequently attempting to decipher Swedish (failing) all the while converting the price in my head to USD until giving up to go with a choice based on little real objectivity. It’s fun; I’ll keep you updated with more riveting stories.

Lastly, for another anecdote, I really enjoy running in parks: mostly because I love using running as a way to experience cities, but also because I really love croissants. I happen to be staying very close to a part of the Royal National City Park (above this post).

This is what I believe every city in the world must have: a park system! Of course, Stockholm has the first! (and largest? unclear thus far.) It’s on my list to bike it before I depart, but more about the system later. Anyways, running here is a DREAM. It’s the first time since living in Colorado, even compared to running to and along Santa Monica’s beach, that I have felt a weight lifted off my shoulders upon entering for a run. While living in south central Colorado, I could easily run at the base of mountains in the cleanest air imaginable. (The altitude was was also higher than anywhere else I have lived, and I was, therefore, in the best shape of my life.) Finding out part of the National City Park was so close was incredible! Not only that, but while running, I ended up starting in the middle, which caused me to immediately stop and just take a 360 degree turn to see the vastness I would be running through.

I don’t know how else to describe it other than

“****, this is awesome; I cannot believe I’m in Stockholm still //

just looking at any corner to run to makes me feel out of shape //

I should not have started in the middle //

Google lied or this was not to scale on the map //

OMG USABLE PUBLIC SPACE.”

It’s not like Central Park, with a mix of specifically-designed programming/space typologies, even though there are pockets of trees, playgrounds, etc along the borders; the small piece of this giant park system I am speaking to is a enormous open space covered in a combination of formal paths, informal paths, and grass. I’ve only ran a few times in the last week, but I guessing I will continue solely so I can run all of the paths! I’m also not a runner with my phone, so no photos yet. Can’t wait to talk about this so much no one reads my blog...

Shout out to the ScanDesign Foundation and Valle Scholarship for granting me this opportunity! I'm extremely grateful to work at KTH and truly immerse myself into life in Stockholm!

I hope to write more about a background on Stockholm, as I acquire more knowledge. If you have any questions or suggestions on places to check out, do let me know!

xx

#stockholm #first post #sweden #valle #scholarship #europe #study #thesis

[itsworn]

This ’68 Dodge Charger Is The Ultimate Pro Street Reboot!

For Dodge stylist Richard Sias, the 1968 Charger proved to be an amazing contribution to automotive history. A Michigan native who studied at the Art Center College of Design in Pasadena, California, Sias was a young man on a mission when he was given the directive to put body lines to the 1968 rendering of the car by his bosses at Chrysler’s design studio. Despite mis-pronouncements by some higher-level managers, his model prevailed as the one released in late 1967. Ironically, after this amazing project, he would leave Detroit soon after and never designed another OEM combination, eventually going to Boeing for decades where he put his talent on things like airplane equipment.

The 1968 Charger, in many ways, defines this whole era when it came to muscle car styling. The curved fender bulges, turbine cues in the taillights and dash cluster, the flying buttress rear window, deeply-inset grille, and body-stamped paired scallops gave it a refined but aggressive stance. It did not rely on scoops, gimmicks, or colors; the only additional performance cue was a pair of twin stripes that wrapped around the rear as part of the Dodge Scat Pack on R/T versions. Whether Sias foresaw it or not, popular culture “got it” right away, heralding it on magazine covers and in test reviews. Indeed, even Hollywood gravitated to the design almost immediately, with the ’68 model showing up in the 1969 Steve McQueen movie classic Bullitt as well as supporting roles ranging from Cannonball to Christine.

The example here is modified, but really not a far cry from what Mr. Sias’ original vision entailed. Recently completed by builder Scott Bonowski of Hot Rods & Hobbies, a shop in Signal Hill well-noted in street rod and restoration circles, the Charger features visual tweaks on the outside and big changes under the skin. The car was actually a multi-year project for owner Darren Moore, whose background lies more in the world of prewar Packards (including a Packard-powered P-51D) and rare Ferraris. Darren wanted a muscle car that he could drive, and had always appreciated the Charger’s design.

“I had always liked the Charger since I was a kid and it is my favorite muscle car,” he recalls. “When I sold my business and retired, I had a little money and decided to have one built as a hot rod. Scott has done other cars for me, but this would be my first hot rod.”

The chase for the perfect muscle car led to a candidate that appeared to be just right. Dressed up as an R/T with a mildly reworked 440 engine, he bought the car and had it sent directly to Scott’s shop. This is when the rude awakening happened, as a lot of mechanical make-up had hidden the car’s true condition.

Scott recalls what was actually there on this so-called restoration. “Well, the car was complete but built to be sold quick,” says the award-winning car builder. “Bad blends and repairs had been made to look original but were done very poorly. So when we pulled up the carpet and took out the seats, there were no floorboards! The fenders and hood were smashed. Just major problems…”

Nevertheless, the men proceeded to come up with a plan to resolve all of this. Since driving was part of the reason for Darren’s purchase, they decided to simply go all out on making that its role. That said, there were some parameters set up going in. First, no radical body changes on the outside—no extras scoops or Daytona wings or stuff like that. In fact, Darren even wanted to stay with a 15-inch steel wheel that looked OEM rather than Cragars or the American Racing five-spokes that came on the car when he bought it. Second, since there would be additional suspension mods, the engine would become a classic gen-2 Hemi. Third, there was not to be big changes to the interior. Bonowski, whose clientele are far-ranging and well-informed, began looking at how he could complete the idea.

“Darren wanted basically a stock restoration but he also wanted to add some power, to be a real muscle car,” Scott says. “Since the engine was not numbers-matched, we looked at possible motor combinations and that 572 came up. I like the sound of that—big horsepower—but now how we make it handle then? How do we make it stop better?”

“The Hemi kind of got chosen as we went along,” remembers Darren now. “The 440 that was in it was not in great shape, and Scott decided that if we got the Hemi crate motor and had it built up, that would make this car something special.”

So for horsepower, Bonowski turned to Joe Jill at Superior Automotive Engineering in Placentia. Old-school guys may remember Joe from his Speedwin days when the ’68 Charger was new. Back then, he was in Long Island, New York, building and tuning engines for guys like Charlie Castaldo, a noted Big Apple Super Stock and Pro Stock racer. Now a long-time builder in California, Joe started with an Indy Maxx Hemi engine package with a big arm down below, bringing the displacement up to 572 cubes. Balanced and using a COMP cam he had developed, the motor pushed the dyno needle hard.

“Indy sends this block to us rough-bored. We do all of the boring, the honing, the deck work here,” Joe notes. “On these engines, we do a very exact balancing. The head work, tricks on the camshaft, and how we set that up, and a lot of valvetrain work, geometry-wise; it is all synergistic. We optimize that before we even order the cam. COMP makes the cam for us once we see where we are at on our flowchart. We tuned the EFI for the engine right on the dyno, and it made just under 800 horsepower. We like them to bring it back here once it is in the car and we can put it up on our chassis dyno and get it exact.”

FAST came through with an EFI and ignition system, bringing the engine management into the present era. As we prepared to go to press with our story, the decision has been made to use a NASCAR-style cowl-based fresh-air layout in place of the present front-routed tube design seen here.

Since this was not going to be a pinion-climbing drag car, Scott selected a well-built Torqueflite equipped with a Gear Vendors overdrive bolted on the tailshaft. This in turn feeds power to the differential and out to the massive Hoosier blackwall 29×15.5-15 tires mounted on custom steelies with pie-pan caps. This, of course, is the first indication that the car is a little more hairy than its predecessors, even from McQueen’s day.

“Darren was dead set on the 15-inch wheels. He really didn’t want it to look too hot rod,” says Scott. “However, with all the horsepower, it needed real tires in the back. Since we had to do the floors anyway, we ordered the narrowed rear and tubbed it a little bit. The tubs are four inches over stock, but the gas filler neck is in the same spot and the special fuel cell was narrowed because of the four-link.”

Working with a Reilly Motorsports Alter-K-tion front suspension, a number of changes were made both fore and aft. Up front, this Charger sports coilovers and rack-and-pinion steering. Not what the purist guys might jump into with both feet, but a design that would let Darren feel the road the way he wanted to. Subframe connectors tie those parts into a custom four-link rear suspension made from Art Morrison components. This is set into the basic OEM forward mounts, which Scott achieved with careful planning before anything was cut. The fat rubber out back meant 4-inch tubs, which in turn required a bottom mount fuel cell that still holds 20 gallons of go-fast juice. With coilovers also employed here, the heavy OEM leaf springs also ended up in the parts pile, meaning the rear view is comprised of nothing but frame rails, custom bent chrome tail pipes, and the fuel tank.

What is perhaps most impressive are the subtle changes that required considerable effort but are barely noticeable. The rear fenders are flared out by about 1.5-inch per side. The side marker lights were filled in, and the bumpers were slightly narrowed (stuff guys like NASCAR legend Harry Hyde once did but never told anyone when Chargers first showed up). The lower front valance was closed up, a custom front chin spoiler was added, and an auxiliary trans cooler was located in the area once occupied by the K-member. Most importantly, the stance of the car was not given a rake, despite the tire size differences, a direct result of careful suspension adjustments thanks to the upgrades. It looks the part of “not really stock.” Along with these these changes, most of the chrome and emblems were left intact, no graphics were added, and a deep mix of green pearl helped make this Charger appear more nasty than usual.

If Darren were to offer you a shotgun seat blast down the freeway near his Palos Verdes home, you might comment, “nice, but what’s up with this AM radio?” Not so fast, kemosabe. Everything behind that dash is modern—Bluetooth connectivity and tucked-away speakers by Art of Sound are only the start. The gauges are modern analog and digital units that tell the exact story of what is going on. The factory seats were redone in leather by Elegance Auto Interior, a Hurst T-handle is in the console, the tach redlines at 7,500, and the speedo only goes to 160 mph, which is okay considering the NASCAR guys found out at Daytona that the Charger’s grille/rear window combo meant it wanted to come off the ground not far above that margin.

You are getting a true first look at this car. After finishing third at the legendary Grand National Roadster Show in Pomona, we got it into the studio before Scott had gotten a chance to actually drive it and final-tune it for delivery. Meanwhile, Darren is getting ready to see the 24-month project out on the open road.

“I have not driven it once yet,” he admitted. “I’m not really a car show guy, and I’m not a kid growing up anymore, either. I think I will probably just get on it a few times but basically just cruise it; it has the overdrive capability to let me enjoy it. A real true car guy will realize what is there as he looks at it.”

Fast Facts

1968 Dodge Charger | Darren Moore | Palos Verdes, CA

ENGINE Type: 572ci 426 gen-II Hemi Bore x stroke: squared at 4.5 (bore) x 4.5 (stroke) Block: Indy MAXX aluminum; machined at Superior Automotive, honed on a Rottler with a plateau finish for correct ring seal, deburred and painted Race Hemi orange Rotating assembly: Eagle crank and rods, Diamond forged pistons Compression: 10.4:1 Cylinder heads: Indy aluminum with Superior’s custom port modification/rework, 439 cfm flow (intake), 280 cfm flow (exhaust) Camshaft: COMP Cams solid lifter .640-/.633-inch lift, ground to Superior’s design specifications, installed on 114-degree centerline Valvetrain: Indy rockers, 2.400-inch intake valves, 1.940-inch exhaust valves Induction: Indy intake Fuel system: FAST EFI Exhaust: 3-inch diameter stainless exhaust Ignition: FAST Cooling: Mattsons Fuel: 91-octane pump gas Output: 775 at 6,000, 741 ft-lbs at 4,800 Engine built by: Joe Jill/Superior Automotive

DRIVETRAIN Transmission: A727 TorqueFlite 3-speed automatic with Gear Vendors overdrive Driveshaft: Driveline Service Rearend: Art Morrison Ford 9-inch, 3.70 gears

CHASSIS Construction: Scott Bonowski of Hot Rods & Hobbies Front suspension: Alter-K-tion layout, coilover QA1 shocks Rear suspension: Art Morrison components custom-fitted to OEM mount locations, coilover QA1 shocks Steering: Reilly Motorsports Alter-K-tion rack-and-pinion Front brakes: Wilwood 4-piston DynaLite discs with 12-inch rotors Rear brakes: Wilwood 4-piston DynaLite discs with 12-inch rotors

WHEELS & TIRES Wheels: stock-style steelies, 15×7 (front), 15×10 (rear) Tires: BFG 215/65R15, front; Hoosier 29×15.5R15, rear

INTERIOR Seats: custom leather over 1968 framework by Elegance Auto Interior Instruments: custom sweep-design with digital adjustment Stereo: 21st century connectivity housed behind factory design facing Steering wheel: custom refinished original Shifter: Hurst T-handle

The head-on view of Darren Moore’s 1968 Charger is the first impression that there is more than meets the eye. Yes, that front bumper is narrowed and shaved thanks to careful work by Scott Bonowski of Hot Rods & Hobbies. Shades of NASCAR tricks…

Got meat? A careful fitting of the rear end plus light fender flaring allows these big Hoosier to disappear under the car. Darren wanted to avoid the attention of aftermarket wheels, sticking with widened 15-inch steelies as a result.

One of the best styling cues done by Richard Sias and his crew were the cast turbine-style taillamps. These were unique to this single model year, and distinguish these cars from all others from behind.

Under the hood is big thunder: a FAST fuel-injected 572ci Indy-based Hemi built by Joe Jill of Superior Automotive. The induction system seen here will be superseded by a change to cowl induction in the near future.

Darren truly wanted to maintain a street look at first glance, forgoing aftermarket shiners for these 15 inchers widened to 10 inches, shod in fat, non-descript blackwall Hoosiers.

Looking like nothing to come off a 1960s assembly line, this Alter-K-Tion layout allows for modern handling accessories beneath the legendary sheet metal.

Here is what the interior appears like after a light reworking: fresh gauging, a digital stereo, and reupholstered bucket seats. These changes are all done within the original 1968 design.

Using components from Art Morrison, the view underneath from behind is as radical as that from the front. Here the leaf springs were eliminated, and the AME components are worked into the OEM mounting points.

Chrome fitted plumbing for the radiator and more make this a unique vehicle from every angle. It was this level of attention by Scott Bonowski that helped garner honors at Pomona’s long-running Grand National Roadster Show.

By using an Art Morrison aftermarket differential, the car sports DynaLite rear disc brakes thanks to Wilwood. This was again part of allowing the car to be enjoyed.

The car still appears quite stock despite the changes, again a testament to the effort by Hot Rods & Hobbies. Note that the side markers were filled in during the course of the body work.

The post This ’68 Dodge Charger Is The Ultimate Pro Street Reboot! appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

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