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roscgcld · 2 years

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HEADCANONS + OTHERS || preppy vlogger s/o

request: hi !!! ❤️❤️ u OK ?? u well ?? the acc's going pretty well , i see ~ 👀👀 if it'll be OK with u & if u had the time to do so , will it be OK if i req in a little HC of JJK's ryoumen & nanami with a preppy S/O that's a popular vlogger ??

notes: i love this idea a lot! cause the idea of big and scary men with a soft and sweet lover bouncing by their side just makes me want to kick my feet up and giggle like a school girl cx i hope you like this, babes!

pronouns: them/they

jujutsu kaisen masterlist | nanami kento masterlist | ryomen sukuna masterlist

NANAMI KENTO

i like to think that he actually finds it adorable - having such a sweet and ditzy lover who lives on all the attention that you can get from him. and he has a lot to give

you were a sweet little thing, someone he had met by accident at a cafe you were filming a promo vlog for some new products they had developed

because he was a regular at the cafe, he was talking to the owner when you came bounding over with your videographer and his assistant in toe

since he was there the owner introduced the both of you, to which he just gave you an amused smile from how you were staring at him with little stars dancing in your eyes

to him, you were the most adorable little thing he’s ever seen; and to you, it’s like you were staring right at prince charming

and ever since that day you two just got closer and closer, to the point where nanami had asked if you want to his and the rest of history

being a naturally private person, nanami had sat you down to explain that although he supports your business and your hustle, he probably still wants to stay in the background more

so he became known in your fandom as ‘the hot boyfriend with god-like arms’ - since you tend to cling onto his arm whenever you two walk down the streets in your vlogs, or he would reach for you in your videos; showing off his muscles and veins for your thirsty fans to see

has no idea that his cameos would go viral on twitter, and doesn’t understand why you get so huffy and pouty as you go through your feed

instead he’d just let you rant your little heart out as he cuddles you on your couch, humming wordlessly and flipping through the pages of his book with one hand as the other was gently patting your head

always showers you with attention whenever you get sad and jealous though, reminding you that you are the one for him and that he loves you a lot

enjoys going shopping with you - doesn’t care that he was getting stares from other customers; since he a huge man standing in an aisle filled with cutely themed outfits

but when he sees you coming from the dressing from, twirling and giggling in excitement to show the outfit off - he can’t help but feel his heart flutter and a loving smile from tugging against the corner of his lips

he can’t help but fall in love with you all over again, taking your hand in his to help you twirl another time as you laughed in delight; his heart just skipping a few beats at the sound

“well aren’t you the cutest person around?”

takes your pictures for you, and got pretty good at it as well. even helps you come up with cute ideas for your videos

finds nice copyright free music and sends it to you, and helps you research things like new editing styles or new themes you can try for your videos

probably did those ‘500k Boyfriend Reveal Q&A’ with you - because eventually he felt like he doesn’t want to make it seem like he’s embarrassed to be seen with you

plus, you two had been spotted so many times that he just decided that it was easier to show who he was and not have you edit or cover his face up every time you want to post something

even after revealing who he was, he still takes quite a back seat in your vlogs, but he’s supportive in his own way and is more than ready to spend all of his money on things like vacations and cute restaurants for the both of you to try

he loves you, and he loves how much love and attention you want from him; which he is more than ready to give

RYOMEN SUKUNA

if he was in a human au, I am giving him the lowkey basic headcanon that he is a tattoo and piercing artist who runs a store in the city

you were following one of your friends to get a tattoo done, a design that you had a hand in creating that she wanted to get tatted on her. so she begged you to come along

you had, which was where you were introduced to the heavily tattooed man with sharp yet bright eyes; seeming to have you entranced even as he was working on your friend

she had, by the way, noticed you two eyeing each other up; and had briefly ‘claimed’ to have left her wallet in her car - so she left you and her bag in the store so she can retrieve it

sukuna, taking the hint, immediately turned on all his charms so he can get to know you better and trying to get your social media or your number

and because you were definitely attracted to this insanely handsome tattoo artist, you had given in; sharing your private instagram so you can text him

from there he charmed you two to go on a few dates, and after awhile you two became official

finds you quite adorable - you are the soft pastel side to his dark and edgy personality. the true opposite of him that completes him

when he first discovered your platform, he was a little hesitant - it wasn’t because he was private or embarrassed to be with you, it was more so he was worried of what people will people say about you two

he would never break up with you because of a few messages or ‘threats’ online, but what he was more worried about was you giving into these comments and realising sooner rather than later that he was not in the same league as you

but even if your fans wanted to say anything, they literally have no ground to stand on - because the way he looks at you whenever you vlog with him, to him liking and reposting your posts on his stories, or even him doing stupid tiktok videos or instagram challenges with you; he was literally the perfect boyfriend

lets you paint his nails whatever colour you want, and in exchange he helps do your makeup; since he’s a tattoo artist, he can do those intricate makeup looks with eyeliner without breaking a sweat

enjoys that you share about him a lot on social media; whether it is thirst traps of him working out or when he’s working on customers, posts about his newest achievements, or even documenting when you got a new piercing or deciding to get a tattoo by your boyfriend - he loves the attention you give him

never stops you whenever you wear short and revealing clothes - whenever he is around you, he will always make sure to protect you. plus, his excuse is that ‘he can fight’

really he enjoys showing off how hot you look, and he himself enjoys just how amazing you look in the clothes you choose. has an entire album on his phone dedicated to you so he can stare at it whenever he misses you

massive simp and quite proud of that fact as well, always spoils you with everything you want - he can never say no to those puppy eyes

wanna read more? > jujutsu kaisen masterlist | nanami kento masterlist | ryomen sukuna masterlist

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kiwisfics · 1 year

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Prompt: "No, I'm not going to tell you to stop crying. You're allowed to cry."

Summary: Hurt/Comfort. Bad days just happen sometimes, and reader can’t hide this one from him.

TW: Insecurity/jealousy, crying, pre-relationship bonding

Bad days happened, despite her best attempts, despite the desire to hide them behind forced smiles and laughter to maintain the appearance of ditzy and thoughtless happiness.

Despite the fact that it had annoyed King to no ends at first, her bubbly nature had become an expected part of their almost-relationship, and he wasn’t blind to the sudden shift in her tone and the way her shoulders pulled in to make herself appear smaller.

“That's almost more insufferable than your hopping around.”

[Name]’s brow furrowed, form subconsciously shifting from the withdrawn ball she'd settled in to something more familiar to him, shoulders squaring and head rising high to meet his eyes, even from where she sat on the floor.

“No one asked you.”

He feigned annoyance with a huff, which only made her face scrunch up into confusion. She knew him well enough to see the effort where normally there would have been ease.

Was he worried?

Oh, that was golden. It almost made her feel bad about the reason she was upset being so small.

And being related to him, but she wouldn’t ever tell him that. He was too smug as it was.

“Stop pouting. It’s bringing everyone's mood down.”

Her lips quirked upward, “King, we're the only two here.”

“Regardless…”

The response earned a snort, “You could just admit you’re worried.”

The silence spoke volumes, earning a full laugh.

“For the record, it’s not a big deal. Just pouting, really. No need to worry.” In contrast to the words, tears pricked the corners of her eyes, almost like they intended to spite her.

She saw the horror flash in his expression, the complete unfamiliarity of comforting a crying woman more than clear in the half-step back he took. It almost made her want to laugh again, but all that escaped in response to his reaction was a sob that she made a pathetic attempt to stifle.

“Sorry, sorry,” she rushed to hide the tears, wiping fiercely at her eyes, “I'm fine! Really! I’m- I’m- sorry.”

The awkward silence that settled over them as she muffled her cries against her knees.

This was stupid. All because she was jealous. It was ridiculous.

King sighed as he slid down the wall to rest next to her, an unsure arm wrapping around her shoulders to pull her against his side.

“Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

A few moments passed before she rose her head to look him in the eyes, “Aren’t you gonna tell me to stop crying? This has gotta be lowering the mood more than my pouting was.”

The sound that escaped before his words was disgruntled and verging the edge of irritation, “No, I’m not going to tell you to stop crying. You’re allowed to cry.”

The enablement of her tears only made her cry harder, burrowing her head against his shoulder now, arms going under his own to wrap around his back.

King's own arms pulled her closer to his chest, no words were offered, but that was fine. The very act of holding her was more than enough to quell the ache of insecurities and the jealousy born from them.

Bad days happened, sure, but if this was the result, she could hardly find herself dreading them.

A/N - Lower quality and late post because I had a very, very bad day yesterday. So, there is no real proofreading or editing.

#king chimera #king chimera x reader #hurt comfort #dc #dc x reader #dc imagine

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girl-in-the-tower · 4 years

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Special corner on NRC’s grounds: An interview with the birthday girl ~Kore~

Ramshackle Dorm - Birthday Party Venue

Chapter I

Interviewer: Happy Birthday!

Kore: Ah! Thank you so much! And thanks for making time to visit me!

Interviewer: I heard that Ramshackle is holding a party today. Is that true?

Kore: Yeah! Grim said that any birthday needs to have a party as well! Though I think he just said that so I’ll prepare some tasty food for him today.

Interviewer: So did you make all the preparations for the event?

Kore: Hm, not really. A lot of people turned up to help, even though I didn’t ask them to.

Clover-senpai and Ruggie-senpai helped out with the cooking so I didn’t have too much on my plate when it came to catering. They’re really good chefs so all the food ended up being delicious! Even Epel made some nice apple carvings. Ah, though we made quite a lot so Ruggie-senpai ended up taking the leftovers with him.

Kalim-senpai was really excited about the whole idea. He wanted to organize a parade and a big banquet! There were supposed to be elephants and monkeys and pheasants and I think a tiger, but Viper-senpai talked him out of it. He still ended up in charge of the decorations though.

Deuce, Jack and Epel helped with the seating plan and with carrying the tables. Epel was told by his senpais to sit this one out, but he insisted on doing it. I think his training’s really starting to pay off! Though in the end it was still mostly Deuce and Jack doing the heavy lifting...

Ace and Cay-senpai picked the music. Apparently, it’s supposed to be really trendy right now, but... ah...

Interviewer: Do you dislike it?

Kore: Ah, dislike is a strong word. I think it just doesn’t speak to my generation... hehe...

But stil! We had a lot of fun dancing together. Even Viper-senpai joined in. Haha, I got really ditzy when he spun me around like that.

I wanted to ask Leona-senpai for a dance too, since he seemed on the verge of falling asleep, but Ace jumped in before I had a chance. He really wanted to show off his dance skills since he asked me a bunch of times. I guess he was really proud of that.

Interviewer: You seem to have enjoyed yourself.

Kore: Mm! To be honest, this was the first big celebration I ever had so I was really excited about it. Up until now it’s only been me and Theo on my birthday each year. We used to make a big bowl of rice pudding and stick a candle in it and call it a cake. So having a real one is a bit odd for me...

But I’m really grateful to have spent this day with all my friends! To think that I’d be able to experience such happiness... Ah, sorry, I’m getting a bit teary-eyed for some reason.

Chapter II

Interviewer: How about the presents this year?

Kore: I got a ton! Everybody was so kind and thoughtful! Here, look!

Interviewer: Is that...?

Kore: Haha, yes! It’s a can of tuna! Grim said that since we’ve friends he’d allow me to have one as a present for my birthday. Though he was really reluctant to give it up...

This bouquet of snowdrops is from the Octavinelle dorm. See? This card is in Jade-senpai’s writing. Ashengrotto-senpai also said that for my birthday he’s ensure that Floyd won’t pick on me as a special favour. He said he doesn’t want anything in return, but I wonder...

The box over there is from Rosehearts-senpai, Clover-senpai and Cay-senpai. They pitched in for some high quality gardening tools! Clover-senpai noticed that my old ones were kind of falling apart so he thought I could do with some new ones. Ah, I kind of shudder to think how much they could have cost... Though Clover-senpai insisted it wasn’t that much...

Ah, Ace and Deuce also pitched in for a present. Ta-da!

Interviewer: A boar plushie?

Kore: Yeah! Ace said it reminded them of me, which kind of annoyed me at first, but... Look into those cute button eyes! Isn’t this just adorable? So I decided to forgive them. Hehe, it’s hard to get angry at such a cute face.

Hm? What else? Ah! According to Jack, Leona-senpai ordered me a Magift team jacket on behalf of Savanaclaw. I’m still not allowed on the field when they play, but he said this week he’ll make an exception and let me join practice a couple of times. I’m so excited! Leona-senpai is a really good player so watching him in action is always exhilarating!

Even Shroud-senpai sent me a gift. Ortho came to drop it off since Shroud-senpai was too shy to attend a party with such a big number of people. It was kind of disappointing... But ah! Look! He got me a limited edition BC! SSR card! I heard they didn’t print this anymore, so getting a hold of it must have been tough. I’ll have to properly thank him when we see each other again.

Chapter III

Interviewer: I was rather surprised to see that they would have a “Birthday Girl” sash prepared for this occasion.

Kore: Ah, they didn’t. This was actually a present from Rook-senpai and Epel! Hehe, Rook-senpai said it wouldn’t do to have a birthday without a birthday sash so he kindly made one for me! On top of that, he and Schoenheit-senpai did my make-up and hair for today too! Schoenheit-senpai said this was “a once-in-a-lifetime occasion” so I was really grateful to him!

Interviewer: I see. Was the dress a present from them as well?

Kore: Eh? No, no, it was-!!

Interviewer: Are you alright? You suddenly turned red...

Kore: N-No! I mean, it’s nothing... Um, the dress is actually a present from K-Kalim-senpai and Viper-senpai...

I saw it in a magazine a few months ago and mentioned to Viper-senpai that it’s a shame this sort of dress is so expensive since I don’t have the budget for it... He said Kalim-senpai was actually looking to buy something more extravagant so hearing me express a wish for something simpler saved him a lot of grief too...

And... And Kalim-senpai said I looked... really pretty in it too...

Interviewer: Um...

Kore: A-Ah! Di-Did you know the fabric for this dress is only made in the Valley of Throns? Vanrouge-senpai told me that! He said the books he and the rest of the Diasomnia dorm gifted me had more information on it! I-I can go look for it! Yeah!

Interviewer: That won’t be necessary. But it seems you’ve had quite an eventful day.

Kore: Yeah... It was a lot of fun, because everyone was here with me.

Hm? Ah, my cellphone is ringing! It’s Theo calling me to wish me Happy Birthday. Um, I’ll have to go now, so...

Interviewer: No problem. Thank you for this conversation! And once again Happy Birthday!

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talesfromatabletop · 4 years

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RP Headcanons: DC Edition, pt 1

Batfam

Bruce cares, tries, and fails, but generally keeps trying for his kids.

Baby Terry McGinnis is the cutest thing ever and his dinosaur t-shirts reinforce this.

Slade Wilson - terrible person, great assassin, loving (if strict) parent.

Dick and Bruce fight constantly! Once Dick gets mad about something, everything makes him more angry until he and Bruce eventually resolve the first problem. It's sometimes big stuff... sometimes really petty shit.

Steph loves waffles. She will trade Tim for a 4-stack with chocolate chips.

Everybody wants to pair with Bruce on Gotham patrols. He gets the best fights and he brings snacks in the belt - it's a 50/50 if it's protein bars or trail mix, though.

Nobody wants to pair with Bruce on Gotham patrols. He won't let you make Social Media posts or stop for a hotdog at Rico's corner stand.

Jason and Dick actually fight a lot, still. Jason knows how to push Dick's buttons and he uses that as a self-defense tactic when he doesn't want to talk. ("Get Dick mad and he won't ask if I'm okay!")

Cass loved Steph before Steph loved Cass. Stephanie figured it out... eventually.

Lucius Fox only helps with the really weird shit because Bruce trades him Alfred's secret holiday recipes sometimes. Alfred's recipes are the true treasures of Earth.

Duke does his best not to get swept up in the weird, wild lives of his batsiblings tbh.

Tim doesn't babysit, he gets babysat.

Ace is the Good Boy™ but he will try and take Krypto down.

Titus is trained, we swear, but he's goofier than a ferret on drugs sometimes. 10/10 derp.

Sometimes Dami gives Batcow walks through the garden to help her relax.

Every Batfam member will stab the other for the last piece of Ma Kent's apple pie. Even Alfred.

Superfam

90s Kon and YJ Kon both deserve to exist. What better combo than the Insta-famous, outgoing showboat and the blunt, introverted buffbaby?

YJ Kon is way more of a "Conner" than 90s Kon. 90s Con is now "Carter."

Carter + Tim = Flashy Disaster Couple

Conner likes Wally's freckles.

Ma and Pa Kent accept any and all grandkids, time-travel or dimension-hopping be damned because "They're our boys, now, Clark, of course we want to see them!", and there are family trips to the farm.

Clark will bribe his friends and teammates with his mother's cooking. He can't bribe with his own, though, because he's terrible at it.

Jon would happily fly to Gotham for dinner before eating what his father burned made for them.

Krypto would probably go, too.

Clark doesn't know what to do with all of his sons but at least they aren't like his cousins.

"It's not about whether the boob window would look good or not, guys! It isn't happening!" is still something he's had to say before, though, and Clark's mildly ashamed of it.

With three superboys up to bat, the real issue is that none of them want to share the name. Jon had it first and that's fine with his brothers, really. Conner looks and feels like practically an adult, so he's meh about it. Carter wants something catchier to say. The result? Superboy, Kon and Rao.

Jor-El had a conniption when Carter named himself "Rao" as a hero. "You named yourself after OUR GOD?!? You disrespectful little-!"

Lex thought it was hilarious.

The boys are constantly in the background of Carter's posts and there's a few Insta vids of Lex trying and failing to hide that he's mildly amused by his son's shenanigans.

Flashfam

Barry is face-blind (has prosopagnosia). He can gradually memorize specific elements of a person's face ("Uh... Ollie's hair is like mine, right? So he's blond! And I know he has facial hair.") but has trouble associating them together unless he's had long periods of exposure to the person.

Wally is a nervous bundle of anxiety. All of the time.

Barry is practically incapable of looking on the dark side of things, and tends to believe the best of people - this extends to his villains.

Cisco is his bro, Caitlin is like the ditzy aunt, and Harrison is the exasperated father-figure that just wishes his kids didn't drink so much coffee.

Speaking of coffee - Barry doesn't drink it on the job. It makes him antsy.

Captain Boomerang - Digger, to his friends - is always on the edge of getting out of the game. Raising Owen ("Little Diggs") is a higher priority than his Rogues work. He waivers between retirement and always that "last" job that'll set him up to take care of his son.

Little Diggs is too pure for this world, and a fan of Flash even though he knows his father is a villain.

Wally isn't as forgiving with the Rogues as Barry is. This is especially true for Heatwave, Glider and Cold, since they've all double-crossed the Flash before.

Cold isn't fond of Kid Flash. Barry earns his respect and, in some ways, his admiration - this doesn't extend to Flash's smartassed sidekick.

Lisa and Mick are a surprisingly functional duo despite their dysfunctional dynamic. Lisa is generally in charge in their relationship, and Mick knows Len would ice him if he ever raised a hand to Lisa.

Len and Mick are best friends, despite the friction from their clashing personalities.

Lisa keeps pushing Len to either date or pick a favorite hooker - anything to get him laid and chilled out for once.

Len is practically addicted to puns. Not even just cold- or ice-related puns, either! He will make puns out of anything when given an opportunity, and genuinely is amused by them.

Arrowfam

Oliver is never in control of his daily life. He's barely in control of his personal choices most of the time.

Felicity runs it all - the team, the company, organizing his assignments from the League... everything other than doing the hard stuff herself.

Ollie really is a capable hero, but he doesn't believe it. He also doesn't particularly believe that the League needs or wants him there, but couldn't tell you why exactly they keep him, then, if questioned about it.

Roy has totally given up the flash and mystique of heroism tbh. Trucker hat? Check. Bow, arrows, and backup guns? Check. Flip-flops? All the better to chase people with. The slapslapslap of justice will strike terror in the hearts of muggers everywhere.

Oliver spoils Lian relentlessly.

Artemis is glad to avoid the weird shit that Roy and his clones get up to when Ollie isn't paying attention. She's never been more thankful that she isn't one of the adopted sidekicks.

Jim: Big, friendly, easily guilt-tripped, the pretty one.

Will: Mature, down-to-earth, does the guilt-tripping, the mom/dad friend.

Roy: Trash, amger!!!, can't be guilt-tripped but can be blackmailed, has no clue what he wants in life yet.

Lian will either murder you in your sleep or you are now a member of her family. There is no in-between.

No pets. Ever. They will get shot with an arrow by accident and nobody in the house is willing to deal with that emotional burden.

Oliver wants exactly 0 people in the "Arrowfam" but will kill you and/or himself over losing any member of his Arrowfam.

#dc comics #headcanon #dc headcanon #there is so much more #snippets with Azzy

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halcyonnhood · 4 years

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Alumni Band (Michael Clifford)

Summary: Nellie and Michael were best friends in high school and in marching band. They reunite through alumni band. Platonic love.

Word Count: 2.1k

Rating: literally PG.

Warnings: me being a soft bitch

Authors Note: I'm back from the dead for .02 seconds. I wrote this while manic and haven't bothered editing it. Incase people aren't aware of what Alumni band is: it's basically just graduates of marching band getting back together and performing (usually.) I'm going off my experience, I literally just did alumni band in October (I was the second youngest.) and we always go to practices and then perform together with the high school band for homecoming games. Tons of fun. I'm also scared people won't like this as much because it isn't romantic and doesn't include smut. Fun. Enjoy!

I will probably make a second part in the future which might be romantic, but I'll probably stick with some platonic!Mikey. Double bonus, Nellie is a plus size character. I didn't feel the need to explicitly say that in this part. We'll explore that in the second.

The band room still smells musty and sweaty, a smell that somehow comforts Nellie Reed. It's been years since she had last stepped into her second home, but everything still looks the same. Chairs were still set in messy rows, music stands placed out of the way in the corner, and there are crumbs everywhere (despite the ‘no eating’ policy). There's a couple of new photos placed randomly along the walls, a disney world trip from 2018, the new drum major beaming proudly with majorettes. It brings back memories of her own high school years and how much she genuinely misses marching band. Of course she does, she wouldn't cancel plans for nothing. She only does it for homecoming week anyhow.

The rest of the alumni band seems to be taking their sweet ole’ time. To be fair, some of them are very old. Nellie has already paced laps around the room multiple times. Looked at photos. Peeked into the uniform closet, viewed the same old uniforms, and quickly shut the door before the odor could become too pungent. After all, the poor cotton uniforms only get dry cleaned twice a year and sadly they still smell like sweaty teens. She pulls out a music stand and takes out her piccolo to get some practice in. Well, that was the plan before a few frames beside the director's podium catches her attention. Upon closer inspection the first frame holds a picture of her, Kellen Loxley, and Michael Clifford at their final senior football game. It had been rainy and cold, both her and Kellen falling multiple times in the mud, yet the three of them were laughing in the picture. Her heart swells at the sight, she had never been so happy and content until that night. The second frame showed Hadden Beaupre's smiling face, she knew why the picture had remained there years after their graduation. He had died a couple nights before graduation after getting in a car wreck with Nellie and Michael. And the picture captures exactly how she remembers him, red curly hair spilling onto his forehead, freckles speckled across his dimpled cheeks, and green eyes shining brightly. God, she missed him. She missed them all.

Her introspective thinking is abruptly interrupted, “Staring at his dopey smile was probably your biggest downfall, ya know?”

She immediately recognizes the voice. She honestly believes that she could identify him anywhere.

“You're just jealous I stared at him, Clifford.” Nellie chuckles. She turns around to be met with none other than her high school best friend. Except he wasn't a teenager anymore and he definitely filled out his once awkward, gangly body.

“Me? Jealous? I could never.” Michael chuckles.

“Whatever you say. I didn't even think you'd show up,” She comments, “Let alone with bubblegum pink hair,”

Michael let's out a laugh, “Can you blame me? I know Jennings hates it and it'll be a good laugh. He can't make me bleach my hair like the good old days,”

“You're the dumbass who would dye it weekly despite knowing the rules,” She rolls her eyes. “I'm surprised you aren't bald from all the chemicals,”

Michael was trying to come up with a witty comeback when the double doors swing open and their old band director peeks his head in, “The rest of the alumni are on the field, apparently they still can't follow directions,”

The practice isn't going as smoothly as it did in high school. Nellie's section is filled with ditzy, forgetful thirty and forty year old women who rely on her to teach them everything. They forgot the very basics, but she's kind and teaches them anyway. While she's helping a woman named Janice with arm swings, she makes eye contact with Michael who is giving her a “are you serious?” look. She just shrugs and gives him a frown, because honestly, this sucks. Michael just smiles from across the field and it sends her back to their freshman year. It had been hot, both of them exhausted and ready to go back home, but they still found enough energy to mouth words to each other and make silly expressions. He looks the same, with dyed hair and his neck strap hanging to display his silver saxophone. It HAD to be silver, his fourteen year old self had claimed. It's unique, unlike every other boring gold saxophone. Of course the boy wanted to stand out, even his hair shows that.

“Will I see you at the game?” Michael questions after practice.

“Do you really have to ask?” Nellie gives him her signature smile. The one reserved just for him.

He chuckles, “It's not polite to assume things,”

“Of course you'll see me there, Mikey.”

The week passes right before Nellie's eyes, it feels that way, but she knows she's just giddy to see Michael again. The duo hasn't been the same since graduation, while at one time they used to be inseparable, now she's lucky to get a text once a month. It was usually saying about the same thing each month, “Hey, I hope you're doing well Nel. Hopefully I'll be home soon. 🖤” Except he never really came home until this week. She wanted to be mad at him, she should be mad at him, but she's too understanding for that. They're both adults with adult lives and that's okay. His adult life is just a little more exciting than her own though, a famous band, cool ass friends, and screaming girls willing to fall at his feet.

Nellie had a pretty bland life in comparison. She stayed in the same small, dead end town working as the city schools music therapist and occasional music teacher. While he was out touring the world and being rich, she was earning two dollars above minimum wage and eating microwavable dinners in her one bedroom apartment. She just wishes she could have the comfort of having Michael closer. At one time it was a reasonable wish, now it seems like too much to ask.

Michael is going to arrive at the high school late. According to the text that he had sent her. It's half expected, he was never on time to begin with and some things never change, she knows that. It isn't a big deal, yet Nellie can't help but feel a little hurt. She just wants to talk to him while getting ready, but the man is nowhere to be found and she's surrounded by strangers again. Not how she wants her night to go and definitely not what she had pictured happening. She had pictured getting there early together and having half of the evening to fool around and act like teenagers again, he had other priorities in place though. And she is definitely not one of them.

Nellie glances down at her phone for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. He hadn't bothered texting her again and there's only twenty minutes until pregame. And while she loves her best friend, she can feel anger and disappointment stirring up deep in her chest. Michael had spent the past few days texting her consistently and talking about how excited he was to relive his old marching band days. How excited he was to spend the evening right along with her. The least he could do is actually fucking show up and she's not sure that he even would. So, she lines up for pregame with the flutes and tries to rid herself of the negative emotions. This is a night for fun and remembering why she was so passionate about music in the first place.

Pregame is still hell. It's not particularly long or challenging, but it's still tiring in its own way. It's only when the band is marching off the field that Nellie spots soft pink hair through the mass of uniforms and alumni. The sight makes her heart race much faster than the marching and crowd could have. The fact that he actually showed up almost cancels all the frustration from before and all she can focus on is getting close to him as soon as possible.

“You showed up,” Nellie says once the duo is sat comfortably in the band stands.

“I told you that I would,” Michael raises an eyebrow at the girl.

“I was beginning to doubt that,”

“Nel, I have never lied to you” He tells her with a softer tone.

She just plays with the keys of her Piccolo, “Yeah, you do Mike. You usually do every time you claim you'll come home.”

“You know I can't help that. I always make plans and things always pop up. I'm here now, let me make it up to you,”

“I really don't wanna talk about this anymore. I'm going to get hot chocolate, want some?” She asks while handing him her beloved instrument.

“We need to talk, I don't want things to be bad between us.”

“I don't want to now, Michael.”

Nellie wants to stay and talk, it's what she's been craving for months on end. To just cuddle up next to him and talk about everything they've missed. She wants to know all about his famous life, tours, and new friends. She wants to tell him all about her students and how she's successful in her own way. But she doesn't, she turns and walks down the bleachers stairs. Away from Michael and any bad moods that began to cloud her mind. She's just going to get them some hot chocolate and let the cold breeze cool her off before she goes back to him. Their friendship is something they both value and she doesn't want to ruin that due to bitter moods and hurt feelings. They'd work it out, they always do.

As promised, Nellie returns with hot chocolate and the two sip it in silence during the game. He doesn't bother trying to say anything else to her, but doesn't pull away when she cuddles up to him for warmth. They stay like that until halftime when they follow the high school band to warm up. Then onto field. The show feels natural and familiar, the one thing that both Nellie and Michael missed. Throughout the show she can occasionally see his pink hair moving smoothly across the field or see glints of his silver instrument. It fills her heart with nostalgia, no different than the rest of this week.

“I'm sorry I never come home,” Michael tells Nellie after the game.

She turns to watch the boy, his hair sticking to his forehead and green eyes studying her carefully, “I'm sorry that I was being a dick earlier. I was just kinda hurt that you were late. We don't get much time together.”

“I know. I wish it was different but with to-”

“Yeah, tour.” She cuts him off. “I would know more about that if you talked to me.”

“I should've made more time for you. I know,”

“I just want my best friend, Mike.” Nellie says and looks away from him.

Without warning, Michael pulls the shorter girl into his chest and hugs her tightly. She melts into the warm embrace and squeezes him softly.

“I can't take anymore time off. But I was thinking, why don't you take a little vacation and come with us for a month. Or two. I'll show you LA, you can see new places.” Michael tells her suddenly with wide eyes as if it surprises him too.

“Mikey,” Nellie whispers softly. ��I have work and bills. I can't just leave like you can,”

A cheeky smile pulls at his pink lips, “And? Work for us,”

“Yes, because you totally need a music therapist,” Nellie rolls her eyes.

“We need…” Michael trails off, “Music lessons? You have a degree in music education.”

“Oh, so now a band with number one songs needs a music educator,” Nellie laughs at the thought. “Especially with all your famous friends,”

“Luke and Ashton can't read sheet music,”

“Luke plays piano,” She deadpans.

“By ear” Michael grins down at her. “You know that isn't proper. C'mon, Nellie.”

“As fun as that so-”

This time Michael cuts her off, “We'll pay double whatever this district offers. They really don't offer much, I would know, we both went here,”

“Fine.” Nellie grins.

Michael wraps his arms around her tightly and spins her around with joy. Nellie starts in a fit of giggles and hugs him tighter than ever before. She finally gets to see her best friend every single day. No more late nights waiting for texts and feeling let down when plans change. Suddenly doing Alumni band is the best decision she's ever made.

“I can't wait for you to meet the boys, Nel” Michael rambles, “You'll love them and oh my god all of the food in LA? To die for. I have so much to show you."

“I can't wait, Mikey."

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ordinaryoddness · 4 years

Text

“OH, DROKK THIS!”

Anyone that knows me will be aware of my love for 2000AD, a sci-fi anthology comic that’s been going for longer than I have been on this earth. Since its inception in 1977, 2000AD has featured thousands of stories, giving birth to some of the greatest comic characters of all time.

One of which is, Judge Joseph Dredd, a hard-hearted, law enforcement officer in a far flung American future. Judge Dredd featured a cynical new world, where cops (Judges) could execute on the spot and throw people in the slammer for the pettiest of crimes.

Mega City One, is a mass of ‘Blocs’, entire towns condensed into gigantic, rocket-shaped apartment buildings, usually named after minor British celebrities (There is a ‘Sue Perkins Bloc’ for example) or politicians. This world saw humans, mutants and droids live side-by-side, mostly at odds with each other, or the various (sometimes surreal) criminal elements that threatened an already shaky and paranoid city.

Judge Dredd is not a hero, not in the conventional sense. He is a mostly cold, blank slate of a man whose sole purpose is to uphold the law and literally nothing else.

Dredd has killed MILLIONS of people in the years he has been active. In one story, Dredd dropped a nuclear weapon on Russia, ending a war but killing millions of innocent people in the process. He is a machine of little sympathy and patience. Dredd is so infused with the law, and the upholding thereof, that he NEVER TAKES HIS HELMET OFF (Please, remember this) and he literally has no time for friendships or human things like emotion. Judges are sworn to not have romantic relationships and Dredd is above all of that. He doesn’t even think about it. Love is for creeps.

In the comics, Dredd may as well be a robot, or a Robocop. (Dredd inspired that classic film) but, unlike Alex Murphy, Joe Dredd has no family (Well, not in the conventional sense but we’ll get to that in a wee while)

Basically, Judge Dredd is awesome. I advise you to dig out the books and throw yourself into a world I’ve been enjoying since I was 8. Also, check out the 2012 film adaption called ‘Dredd’ because it NAILS the comic, the world and the character (with loads of cool references for longtime fans). It also features Judge Anderson, my absolute favourite female comic book character. 2000AD has, for the most part, featured strong female characters and the Dredd universe is no exception.

1995 then. ‘Stallone IS Dredd’

Sly Stallone. Is. Dredd. Judge Dredd. A unfeeling, facially unknown, killer for the law. A character to be booed as well as cheered.

I was 15 when Judge Dredd came out. I was pretty excited. Didn’t last.

In less than ten minutes in, Judge Dredd takes his helmet off and by the end, he’s smooching Judge Hershey.

I get why fans get annoyed when films mess up their characters. Sometimes, it’s a little off kilter. I care not for changing the race of a character. Who cares as long as they embody that person? I would have taken a non-white Dredd. All the actor had to do was live by the code of the character, to be best representation of the man on the big screen. (Yes, Dredd has to be male. It kind of doesn’t work if he isn’t)

Stallone was not that man. The only thing that made him remotely qualified to be Dredd was that they both have distinguishable chins.

Judge Dredd: The Movie was a cynical cash grab for a character that was kind of niche. Dredd wasn’t huge in America, even when he fought Batman. He was cult, through and through. It was a film that needed to be made by people that KNEW the material, that honoured the little/big things. Karl Urban, who played ‘The One True Dredd’ was a fan of the character and you can tell he was having a blast bringing him to life. When you watch Sly, you can see that one eye is on the scene, and the other is on the sack of money in the corner.

The film, to delve into the travesty, is mostly harmless to those that just want to watch Sly wobble about like he does. For fans (I’d go as far to say that I’m a ‘super fan’, I’ve paid my dues) it’s like watching a shit cover of a great song on ‘X-Factor’. It’s soulless, lifeless and so lazy. No one wins in this, even 2000AD who, after it came out, could barely hide their dislike for it.

It takes an old story and adds a few things to it. To give the film one single positive point, it looks the business. Chris Cunningham did a great job of the special effects, The Angel Gang and Hammerstein look awesome. THERE was the love and passion, all around people that couldn’t care less.

Judge Dredd: 1995 Edition worst crime is that it’s boring. It’s really, really boring. It tries to be funny, even drafting in Deuce Bigelow in as ‘comic relief’, again playing a character that’s completely different to the original material. Judge Anderson isn’t in it, which is a blessing. They would have probably re-imagined this cool, smart and female hero into a ditzy, blonde bimbo who keeps going all ga-ga over Rambo.

They would have cast Pamela Anderson, wouldn’t they?

Diane Lane is in there, playing an equally iconic female character, Judge Hershey. She does, indeed, go ga-ga over Rambo and they have a kiss at the end. No real reason why. It doesn’t even make sense in the film and in the comic, they would never do that for about a million reasons.

While they do use the famous ‘I AM THE LAW’ catchphrase, they also give the helmet-free, happy-go-lucky Dredd a new motto. In the film, he keeps saying “I knew you’d say that”, which is like something a sales manager would say, not an action hero. They really try to ram it home during the film. I bet Sly thought it was great, probably because when he says “Law” it sounds like he’s about to shit himself.

When Armand Assante (playing Dredd’s ‘brother’ Rico) says ‘LAAAAAAAAAAAW’ to mock Dredd, it sounds like he’s reached a climax. Maybe he was channelling hopeless directer Danny Cannon who was hoping that this shit show would be that years ‘The Fifth Element’ (The film seems to take more cues from that movie than it does the comics)

Films are just fluff though, aren’t they? It’s kind of pointless to get all wound up about what is ultimately fleeting. I feel bad for feeling anything towards it. It’s probably the last time I was ‘angry’ at a film. Although, that being said, I saw ‘Batman Forever’ not long after and watched another favourite character be reduced to a dancing bear. Embarrassingly, I came out and, annoyed about a two-punch combo of crappy comic movies, I booted a cardboard cutout of ‘Batman Forever’ and declared, overly loudly, that I would never go to the cinema again. I did, about a year later but by then I was getting into indie-films and just wanted to watch people talking for 90 minutes.

Judge Dredd is a bad film, whether you love the source material or not. I’m more annoyed at it for tarnishing the later, superior Dredd film. A sequel and a series is so long overdue and it bothers me that the best representation of Judge Dredd and his universe is ‘I knew you’d say that’

As a little caveat, I did manage to get a measure of ‘revenge’ (probably too strong a word but there you go) with regards to JD 1995, In 2006, I ended up working on a film (didn’t come out) with a producer that knew Danny ‘Judge Dredd’ Cannon. He had actually tried to get his friend involved, giving him a copy of the film I wrote. In one of my many, many phone calls from sunny L.A to shady Quarry Bank, I was picked up on an exchange within in the film, where the two main characters, briefly take about Judge Dredd being terrible. There was a line (I won’t repeat it here) that, apparently, Danny Cannon was very offended by and I was asked to remove it. I was 26 at the time, sat on the stairs of my shared house, and it felt like a one in the eye for Hollywood. I am the law, thank you very much.

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bombshellsandbluebells · 6 years

Text

Romancing the Flame (2/?)

Summary: When Emori’s brother is held hostage in exchange for a priceless, mythical jewel called the Flame, she teams up with sarcastic thief and treasure hunter, John Murphy.

But someone else is after the Flame too, and it’s a race to find the lost city of Polis and the jewel hidden inside.

To get there first, Emori and John will have to overcome booby traps, mercenaries, and their mutual mistrust of each other.

AKA my ode to the classic action/adventure films of the 80s/90s, packed full of as many references and tropes as I can manage. The title is a reference to the film “Romancing the Stone.” Official film poster here!

All my love to @infernalandmortal for editing and being just as excited about this fic as I am!

read on ao3

Chapter One

Chapter Two: The Deal

There was something about seedy bars that made Emori reckless. She’d like to blame it on the alcohol, but she’d only had one beer so far, and she knew she could drink half the men in this bar under the table. Maybe it was just the general sleaziness of the place – the atmosphere of crime and depravity hanging heavy over everything left the implication that you could get away with anything while inside.

Out in the real world, the law was a real threat, and one that Emori was cautious of. She’d long since learned the importance of staying inconspicuous and hidden, and normally she avoided unnecessary attention – but here she knew for a fact there was an illegal poker game unraveling in the back room, and that made her feel safe.

Normal grifts called for days of preparation and careful execution, but bar grifts were easy. They only required that she keep the mark drunk and horny enough not to notice what was happening – or just that she win the inevitable fight that broke out. No one was going to call the police in a place like this, after all, and she could handle a few bruises and cuts for the sake of some extra cash.

She does a lap around the place on her way back from the bathroom. By the time she reaches her table, she’s already zeroed in on at least three different opportunities.

Otan is exactly where she left him, staring morosely down into his own drink like the loser she often tells him he is. He looks up when she sits down.

“Hey.” She jerks her head towards the back corner. “Check out the dart game.”

Her brother follows her gaze to the two men in the midst of a game, then looks back at her with a deeper frown. Her excitement must be obvious, because he sighs heavily. “Hustling? Really?”

“It’ll be fun,” she says, her voice sing-song. She pokes at his shoulder, but Otan shrugs her off, grunting unenthusiastically in reply. “Come on, you know we’ll win.” Emori herself can probably hit the dartboard from where they sit right now. Otan, she knows, would hit the bullseye.

“I’m not worried about winning,” he argues. “I’m worried you’re going to start a fight, and we’ll get kicked out before I can finish my drink.”

Emori deftly grabs his drink from his hands and downs the entire thing. The whiskey is cheap and biting; it burns the back of her throat as it goes down. She slams the empty glass back on the table with a loud clink, and roughly wipes her mouth with the back of her gloved hand.

“There, drink finished.”

Otan glares at her. She smiles sweetly back at him.

They stare each other down, Otan looking for all the world like the human embodiment of a rain cloud and Emori bright and grinning, unwavering. Finally, with the kind of disappointed certainty that comes with having lost hundreds of similar arguments before, Otan sighs deeply in resignation and kneads at the rough, scarred skin of his forehead.

“Fine,” he says, and Emori laughs, delighted.

“It’ll be fun,” she promises as she tugs him out of his seat and towards the game. “Besides, it’s been a while since we’ve treated ourselves. We could use some extra cash.”

“You’re buying me another whiskey with it,” Otan tells her, then falls quiet as they reach the two men.

It’s easy to slip into the roles. They fit as comfortably as well-worn shoes.

“Come on, Em,” Otan says, gently tugging back the arm Emori has a hold of. She follows the movement, exaggerating her stumble a bit before she rights herself against her brother. “These guys are already playing.”

“Come on, O! I want to play!” she whines, slurring her words in a convincing charade of drunkenness.

The men pause their game and glance over at them.

Emori smiles at them and waves lazily. “Hey, you guys want to play with us?”

The two men look at each other in silent debate, and then eye Otan and her speculatively. They’re hesitant to accept Otan, she can tell, as people usually are – his sour expression and bulk might not be unusual in a place like this, but it certainly doesn’t do him any favors when making friends – but she’s laying the drunk, ditzy charm on well enough that they’re interested. One of them drags his eyes up and down her body.

“Ignore my dumb brother,” she slurs, emphasizing the last word. “I think you guys look fun! I want to have some fun!”

Otan tugs gently on her arm again. “They’re not interested, Em.”

“We didn’t say that,” the one eyeing her like a snack says quickly, and Emori hides a triumphant grin. Hook, line, and sinker.

He turns to at his opponent for confirmation, and the other man nods. “Yeah, we’d be up for a game.” His grin makes her skin crawl. “I’m Emerson. This is Dax.”

“I’m Emily,” she says, then slaps an uncoordinated hand against Otan’s chest. “This is Oscar.”

She steps closer to Emerson because the hungry way he eyes her makes him the better target. “I don’t know how to play,” she tells him, pitching her volume as if she’s trying to whisper but too drunk to manage it.

And he buys it. His grin stretches wider. “Don’t worry,” he assures her, placing an arm around her shoulders. “I’ll teach you.” He strokes down her arm, lower and lower, then switches to her back. It creeps dangerously close to her ass, and it's only years of practice that keep her smile in place. If they weren’t about to rob him blind, she’d have decked him the minute he touched her. Instead, she just giggles and leans in closer.

It’s all almost too easy.

Emori and Otan return to their motel room that night with their pockets heavier than they left. They hadn’t been able to raise the bet very high – Emori’s thinks the men had grown suspicious despite their flawless act – but Emori had treated herself to Mr. Grabby Hands’ wallet before they left.

“What’d I tell you?” she boasts as Otan unlocks the door. “It was fun, right?”

“Sure,” is all Otan says, but he’s grinning.

Emori is so high on their success that it takes her a moment to realize what happens when they enter the room. Something grabs her and shoves her face-first into the wall beside the door. Her nose throbs with the impact, and she has enough clarity to hope it isn’t broken, before she manages to take in the rest of the situation.

There are people in their room. One of them, clearly a man much stronger and larger than she is, has her pinned securely against the wall. She hears struggling behind her, but all she can see is the ugly paisley wallpaper of the room.

“Get off of me!” she shouts, straining against the arms holding her down. “Otan?! Otan!”

“Emori!” she hears him shout, before the distinct thud of someone getting socked in the face. She hopes Otan’s getting one up on their attackers, but she has a horrible feeling that it’s Otan who’s been hit. Her suspicious are confirmed when she hears her brother groan. Fear settles in her gut. She tries harder to fight back.

“You didn’t really think I wouldn’t find you, did you?”

The familiar voice coats her ears like tar, heavy, thick and vile. She freezes.

“Did you, Emori?” Baylis continues, and she chokes down a whimper. Even if she can’t see him, she can picture him perfectly in her mind – the cocky, feral grin, the hateful eyes. He probably still has the scar on his temple too. Baylis laughs, and she flinches. Her nose throbs sharply when she pushes it further into the wall. “Come on, we all know your brother’s an idiot, but you’re smarter than that.”

She wants to spit an insult. It sits on her tongue like ready ammunition, only the pistol’s jammed. She can’t get her mouth to say the words. They’d known it was a risk when they left, but they’d thought it was worth it. For months, she’d worried Baylis would find them again, and when it hadn’t happened, she’d grown passive in her sense of safety. She’d stopped worrying. She’d forgotten to be scared.

Now, the weight of that terror comes back all at once and locks her limbs tight and her jaw shut. She feels like a rabbit cowering in a trap, and she hates that almost more than the man behind her. Almost, but not quite.

“Turn her around,” Baylis orders, and the hands yank her from the wall and spin her around so roughly her rattled head spins. There’s definitely blood dripping from her nose.

Her imagination had been spot on. Sure enough, the scar is visible on his temple with his hair gelled back the way he always wears it, but she can’t even enjoy it – not when she sees the gun on his hip or the two large, heavily-armed men flanking him. Two others have Otan pinned, one with his arm tight around Otan’s neck. Her brother’s face is turning red with the strain.

He locks eyes with her and she reads her fear mirrored in them. Two men on Otan, one on her, two others waiting to act, and Baylis.

They’re fucked.

“Well?” Baylis barks. The man who has a hold of her tightens his grip. His nails dig into the skin of her arms. “You have anything to say?”

She tries to voice an apology, but her mouth fumbles around the shape of it. The words get lost somewhere in her throat. Baylis waits, his eyes locked on hers. Emori licks her lips and tries again. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Baylis mocks. “For what? For running away? For stealing my money? For this?” He gestures at the scar on his face.

“All of it,” she gasps. Anything to please him. She’d gotten in his good graces once before; maybe she can do it again. “I’m sorry for all of it. I’ll make up for it. I’ll – I’ll-“

Otan squeaks, and her eyes dart to him. It’s too small a sound for a man as large as her brother, but he looks small now. The man holding his neck is squeezing it tighter, and her brother flounders like a fish caught on the shoreline as he struggles for breath. She can see his fingers dancing and twitching in the air for something to grab onto, but he’s too well-pinned. He clutches uselessly at open air.

“I’ll pay you back!” she shouts, desperate.

“You will?” Baylis steps close to her. He’s at least a foot and a half taller than her; she has to crane her neck to look up at his face. But then he crouches, and she has a bewildered second to wonder what he’s doing before he digs a hand into her boots, searching. She tries to not to squirm at the feeling.

He finds the wad of cash stuffed in her right boot, and the knife stashed in her left, and then Mr. Grabby Hands’ wallet in her jacket pocket. He pockets the knife and thumbs through the wallet and the ball of cash. Then he does the same to Otan, pulling out the knives he keeps in each boot and his own wad of money.

“See, we already found the pathetic bit of cash you had stashed in your bags here. And with this,” he waves the money he’s holding, “and whatever you hid in the car you stole, I know you don’t have nearly enough to pay me back.”

“I’ll get you more money. You know I can.” It was, after all, why he’d brought her in in the first place.

“Oh, I know you will,” Baylis assures her, pocketing the cash. He pulls a folded-up piece of paper from his pocket and unfolds it, then holds it in front of her face.

The word “Polis” is written on it, which means nothing to her. Below it someone has drawn an infinity symbol.

She can’t help the incredulous laugh that bubbles out of her. “I can’t get you that,” she argues.

Baylis slaps her. Her nose protests loudly. She can see her blood on Baylis’s hand as he pulls it back. His grin is gone; now he just looks angry.

“It’s a symbol, you bitch,” he hisses. “For an ancient city called Polis. There’s a jewel there that’s worth more than the fucking queen of England. It’s called the Flame. That’s how you’re going to pay me back.”

It takes her a moment to connect the dots; she blames the distracting throbbing of her face. “You’re sending us on a goddamn treasure hunt?”

“Not both of you. I’m keeping your brother so you don’t run off on me again. You bring me the Flame, and I’ll give him back to you, safe and sound.”

He’s offering her a way to freedom, but it smells like bullshit.

“I need Otan’s help,” she tries. “You need to let him come with me.”

Baylis sneers at her. “You think I don’t know who the brains of the operation is? You don’t need him to find it.”

“There’s no way I can find this. Baylis, please,” she begs, “let me pay you back some other way.”

He moves towards her, and she thinks he’s going to slap her again. She braces herself for the hit, but instead, he grabs her face roughly in his hand and squeezes. His rough fingers dig into her cheeks. She can feel them pressing against the bone. “You either bring me back the Flame, or you find some other way to get me as much money as the queen of fucking England. Or you run off and let your brother die. Your choice.”

Emori locks eyes with Otan again. It’s easy to make her choice. “Fine! Fine, I’ll find it. But you have to give me a lead.”

Baylis lets go of her face, and she wishes she had an arm free to scrub the feel of him off her skin. She wants to throw up.

“I gave you a lead. Polis.”

“I need something more than that,” she pleads. “Look, if you want to get this jewel, then you need to give me something more.”

Baylis considers her as he folds the paper back up and tucks it in his pocket. Then he nods. “I got the information from a man named Murphy in The Dead Zone. Look for him.”

She thinks that’s it, but then he pulls out her knife. There’s no way in hell he’s handing it back to her, and that worries her.

“One more thing,” he says. Her stomach churns with fear, writhing like a pit of snakes. She tries to stop herself from trembling, but it’s hopeless. He’s already seen it anyways; there’s no use in playing brave. Baylis gestures with her knife at the scar she gave him. “I’m gonna repay you for this.”

#memori #memori fic #dailymemori #emori #my stories #the 100 #the 100 fic #romancing the flame

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sesamerolls · 7 years

Text

Unmasked (IchiHime)

Unmasked Pairings: Ichigo/Orihime Word Count: 3400+ words Rating: G Warning: AU setting, Victorian era

Sequel to Masked

She stared down at the invitations in wonder. All the parties she had been to had not captured her more than the one of that night, and this might just be the thing to propel her back to the stranger.

---

The ride at dawn did not help.

Nor did his session of swordplay in the late morning do the trick. It wasn’t that his partner was less capable, Hisagi was an excellent swordsman, nor was the warm weather particularly bothersome.

Instead, Ichigo found himself prodding over the events of the night before.

----

Tatsuki was already sitting when Ichigo arrived at the drawing room, freshly dressed from his afternoon riding clothes and somewhat perplexed at her expression.

She was always so confident, the only one to ever best him at boxing as a child with a fierceness which had shaken away fortune seeking suitors who had dared try to settle their gambling debts by marrying into the Arisawa estate.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, sitting on the armchair beside her. Tatsuki was one of his rarer guests these days as she travelled often between London and her home in Cambridgeshire. She too had been tired of the the vanity of the season and had been adamant she would rather shoot herself than take part in another parade of vanity and marriage-chasing.

And yet she was here.

“I am not here out of leisure,” she said firmly. Ichigo raised an eyebrow as he began to help himself to the tea and cup which had been left by the butler.

“That’s very clear.” He said, stirring his cup “You have barely touched your tea.”

It was true. Tatsuki usually had three or four cups of tea whenever she came to his residence. Sometimes, she would discuss at length a new edition of the English Woman’s Journal, her latest quarrel with her mother over her refusal to partake in another ball and listened as he updated her on the activities of his sisters.

Tatsuki sighed as she rubbed her forehead softly.

“In truth, I am anxious about something.”

Ichigo watched her as she brought her gaze to him.

“I need you to find someone for me.”

Ichigo scoffed. “I am afraid you are being optimistic.”

“Don’t be so dismissive.” She retorted curtly “As pig-headed as you are, you have better connections with the gentlemen of this town than I do.”

It was Ichigo’s turn to rub his temples. “Don’t tell me you called on me this evening to track down some poor sod for your pleasure?”

Tatsuki seemed red with rage. “Don’t be absurd. I’m asking you to find a cad.”

Ichigo paused his motions. “A cad?”

“The very worse.” She said, her voice softer “Who has taken advantage of a friend of mine.”

Ichigo looked at her again, slowly realising she was trembling. He was immediately alarmed.

“Good heavens, what happened?”

“It is not for you to know.” She whispered, hating how her eyes seemed to sting “Even the slightest hint could ruin her reputation.”

Ichigo nodded in affirment. It wasn’t too difficult to fall out of social graces in London, furthermore when it related to liaisons of this sort. The usual rascals and gamblers where never too far away from causing trouble.

Ichigo sat mouth agape, as Tatsuki seemed to try and steady herself.

“I just need you to do some digging.” She whispered “Just a bit for me,”

Ichigo nodded, his earlier apprehension wearing off.

“Is there something you can at least mention to me.” He said, flicking his gaze at the untouched cup in her grip. “This is the season after all.”

Tatsuki sniffed “Only that he was wonderful liar who managed to prey on vulnerable women.”

“How much older was he?” he asked “Lord Burling and Sir Quayle have been quite active this season,”

“I am not aware,” she looked at him “Only that he read well and enjoyed the social clubs.”

Ichigo sighed “That is half the eligible men in London.”

“….and he had a kind face.”

Ichigo nearly dropped the drink in his hands. “I beg your pardon?”

“She said he had a kind face,” she repeated “And wore a nice black mask. Then he kissed her. Can you imagine it! Someone so bullishly confident he would seduce a girl like that at a ball?”

All she could hear was the clattering of Ichigo’s cup.

----

He hated retiring to the club so frequently and yet that was where he found himself that late afternoon.

Blast…

He had somehow promised Tatsuki to find the ogre who had seduced her friend to bring him to swift justice. Tatsuki had been adamant the poor girl had been seduced by a wicked creature, bent on raiding her fortune.

“She is besotted.” She said angrily “She insists he promised to meet her again.”

And Ichigo found himself sitting like a plum for a few moments. In some ways, he felt elated, happy that the evening in question was not a hallucination or a fantasy he had conjured up in boredom, and the woman he had sought so feverishly was just within his reach….

…and yet his closest friend thought he was a cad.

Ichigo groaned as he took his place at his usual seat. The parlour was half empty when he arrived, with only a few other gents laughing nearby the fires. Sado, Keigo and Uryu would be making their way shortly if his estimations was right and so he took the opportunity to ask for a whisky, retreating to his favourite book.

It was a few more moments at the corner of his eye that the cheerful pair greeted a new arrival.

“My goodness, is that really you Shukuro?”

The slender man removed his hat and turned to his companions.

“Yes,” he said, smiling “There is much to discuss.”

---

Orihime seemed to freeze in her spot.

“He is in London?”

Rangiku confirmed with a nod, watching as her niece practically deflated. It was a shame; she had been having such a splendid time in the season, she could tell.

The whole Highwell drama was rather tiresome. With Sora’s death some years before, Shukuro, who was a second cousin had leaped his way to the title of Earl with all the fortunes attached to the ancestral home and lands. Despite this, and the comforts attached to his new name and title, Sora’s will had bequeathed Orihime with properties in London and Cambridgeshire, with a sizeable dowry which had caused tittering and irritation within the family.

Orihime was permitted to stay in the ancestral home as Tsukishima travelled through the continent. That had been the arrangement up to a few months ago when the Earl returned, curtly informing Orihime to retreat from her childish antics and agree upon a marriage to put to bed the current dysfunction that had been wrought through the household.

The girl insisted she was fine. That the harsh letters and bombardment from fevered relatives were becoming increasingly rare.

Yet Rangiku could not help but note the rush in which she packed for London, leaving behind her beloved Thoroughbred and telescope, both gifts from Sora, at the manor.

Orihime dropped the tea cake she was eating on her saucer, now biting her lip slightly.

“I suppose I should return to the estate.” She said sadly.

“Whatever for?” Rangiku asked frowning “To marry into a quarrelling mess who would squander your fortune quicker than you could blink?”

Well, that was clearly the intentions for most of their relatives. With Tsukishima in particular, it was the books within the property in London. A vast collection which had been accumulated since the creation of the earldom centuries before, which could arguably shame a handful of the colleges of Cambridge and Oxford for the rarity of its content.

It was not hard to imagine that Tsukishima had easily persuaded a good portion of the family he would happily bequeath them with generous portions of the wealth from his title all in return for enabling Orihime to relent. He seemed not to understand the reason or the purpose of Sora leaving something of such value within the hands of someone he considered an excitable and ditzy woman. Rangiku had heard bits of it from acquaintances and the disgruntled rumbles began to sift through London. She had hoped the season would have given Orihime enough time to put things at the back of her mind.

It did not matter. Orihime merely had to cement her position in London and live there for the foreseeable future. If she continued her social activities and continued her collection of calling cards, his scheme would ultimately be rendered useless.

It was with this thought Rangiku broke into a smile.

“Never mind him,” she dropped her voice low “What more have you found about your mysterious gentleman friend?”

Orihime felt herself flush “Rangiku please…not in public!”

She should have known Tatsuki would have told. Orihime recalled her aghast look, the way she cursed when she had finished the details and most of all the worry in her eyes as she held her by the shoulders.

“You should have been careful!” Tatsuki said “What if someone saw?”

Orihime had to agree, she was right. If anyone had seen something, her reputation would have been as good as mud and she wasn’t too sure how the gentleman would fair himself.

Yet she knew he was close. And wanted to see him once more.

For some reason the news had delighted Rangiku. She thought it was absolutely splendid and insisted Orihime continue her search with a set schedule of balls and dinner parties in the next few days.

“How would this be of use?”Orihime asked curiously. Rangiku turned to her with a satisfied confidence.

“If the gentleman in question is as inexperienced to the social mix of the season as you say,” Rangiky began, thumbing the invitations on the table “Then these are the best parties to attend. Lady Felton is a gossip who knows all the eligible men in London, Baroness Hamish has several sons, four of which have recently returned to the country and the Marquess Isshin is ridiculous but has a surly son who is greatly connected with the gentlemen clubs in London.”

Orihime blinked. “You intend to flirt with the Marquess?”

Rangiku winked in return. “Of course. He is an old friend.”

Orihime flushed. If only she could be so bold to say what she felt and did what she wanted. It didn’t matter though. She stared down at the invitations in wonder. All the parties she had been to had not captured her more than the one of that night, and this might just be the thing to propel her back to the stranger.

“When do these all take place?”

Rangiku smiled.

“Tomorrow.”

---

Yuzu was horrified.

“You were barred from the Carlton?” Ichigo sighed as his twin sisters gawped at him “Not barred. Just suspended for the rest of the season.”

The twins shared a glance before the bolder of the two, Karin spoke. “For what reason?”

Ichigo clenched his fist. “For assaulting a fellow member.”

He did not know what had gotten into him. He was usually a recluse in that place, playing cards, watching the day pass by without incident. But the stranger, that Shukoro had set him off.

He was half listening, his thoughts on other matters before his ears perked up at the mention of the late Earl of Highwell Sora. Sora. It could not have been a coincidence considering the rarity of the name. It became clear when the man elaborated more on a sister, his annoyance about her behaviour, the fact she had fled to London, a silly excitable thing who possessed an acute amount of stubbornness that required fixing.

“It is no matter.” Said Shukuro “She will agree to it soon enough, and all that daftness will be put away.”

Ichigo watched as he drank his bourbon. He spoke so coolly as if he was talking about a hound or a particularly stupid animal that refused to come to heel.

His companions did not seem to care about the vulgarity or admonish their friend for his tone in question. In fact, they chortled, laughing at the way he had described her tearfulness as Shukuro delivered his ultimatum and how hysterical she had been when insisting she would prefer to be by herself.

“I hear she is quite fetching.” Inserted his companion.

“Yes, fetching and silly as are many of her peers,” Tsukishima dropped his drink on the table “I shall hope when I put a child in her that it does not become so ridiculous.”

His companions laughed, cheering to his good fortune and his upcoming nuptials as soon as the agreement was settled.

Ichigo did not know when he stood.

“It was stupidity on my part.” He admitted “I still don’t see why I should take part in this function.”

It was just like his father to throw a party unexpectedly. Ever since the death of the late marchioness nearly two decades before, he typically threw two or three parties in the season, most of which Ichigo managed to avoid.

He had no such luck this evening. He was introduced to many familiar faces, the usual herd of mothers with their shy tender daughters and the drinking friends who seemed shocked by his appearance.

“Where you drugged?” asked a particularly astonished Lord.

Ichigo sighed “Yes.”

His party promptly burst out laughing.

For the second time in many months Ichigo thought of using a pistol on his father.

That thought clouded his mind for a bit until he heard a familiar squeal.

“And I thought I would have to look for you!”

Ichigo groaned. Rangiku.

She was an expert in teasing him. Once in his youth he had made the mistake of catching a glance at her bosom which she caught. The way she laughed and the constant teasing afterwards was enough to make him want to bury himself.

“Are you here to humiliate me?” he asked tersely. Rangiku merely laughed and tapped the bridge of his nose with her fan.

“Why aren’t you happy today.” She smirked “I’ve heard you’ve been quite the social creature lately. Are you looking at the new bridal prospects of this season?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Nonsense,” She tapped him on the nose again, ignoring the stares she was receiving from other guests “Stop being so grumpy and greet me properly.”

Ichigo covered his nose in annoyance “No.”

“Do you want some encouragement?”

Ichigo’s face went bright red “Not at all.”

Rangiku laughed once more and Ichigo decided he was being punished for a yet unknown sin.

As the older woman wiped away her tears, she threw a look back at him with fondness.

“Enough of that, I suppose I will be more honest,” she began to indicate to someone further down the hall “I need your help.”

Ichigo rubbed his temple. “With what?”

“Locating someone. Ah yes Orihime my dear….”

Ichigo’s eyes widened as her companion came closer.

“You.”

Rangiku paused mid-sentence as Orihime stood at her side. She took a glance at the pair, the way their eyes traced each other’s face and it only took a moment for her to understand.

“Oh,” she said “...Oh.”

Orihime felt breathless as she held her fan tighter in her hand. She scanned his face, the fierceness of his gaze, the way his jaw clenched and the warm pool of his eyes and she felt her heart beating faster and faster.

A moment passed. And then another.

Soon Ichigo coughed.

“Excuse me,”

He bowed before he made his way further into the hall.

And Orihime felt herself shatter.

---

It was much later in the evening when he could actually think.

He did not know how he made his way to the terrace or what indeed possessed him at that moment when he fled from another tedious introduction.

There was relief clear from seeing her again. Her lovely auburn hair that was neatly tied in a bun and adorned with flower pins, the softness of her warm eyes, the curve of her nose, plumpness of her lips and the pretty laced gown she was wearing.

He did not know why he ran away.

He tried to socialise for the remainder of that evening. He was courteous with his guests, danced with his sisters and had even put up with his father’s remarks.

And yet he couldn’t help searching for her in the crowd.

He sank his hand in his hair, feeling the breeze of the evening. He was being stupid, moreso than when Keigo would gamble recklessly or when he had fought with Uryu in his youth.

Turning his sights back into the hall, he fought the fear within him determined to look for her.

---

She had excused herself from the hall.

Rangiku had been watching her with worry. Orihime had continued to play her role as lady throughout the evening, curtsying and making her introductions as she had become accustomed to.

But it was much later as she watch him dance with his sisters and after she herself had danced with a few other gentleman that she excused herself and fled from the room.

It was several moments before she stopped, now in an unfamiliar corridor were the sound of the jubilation and mirth from the party was faint and it was then she felt her eyes sting.

It served her right. She had been stupid from the start.

“Lady Orihime.”

Her eyes widened, she turned slowly just to see him stare back at her in confusion.

“Are you alright?” Ichigo asked softly.

She wanted to laugh. Of all the words to use, it had be those very ones.

Orihime laughed, wiping her eyes with a laced glove as he approached.

“It is such a splendid evening,” she began “I think I may just be overwhelmed…”

She felt his gaze on her as she bowed her head.

“You’re crying.” He stated plainly.

“No,” she insisted, feeling a familiar sting. “I-I am just a bit…the season is so busy...I. .”

“I’m sorry,” Ichigos voice seemed barely audible “I have behaved terribly this evening.”

Orihime felt her lips quivering. No, not now, not right in front of him...

“I was just overwhelmed.” He admitted softly “So overwhelmed I got to see you again.”

She managed to raise her head. It was then he saw the tears that were cascading down her cheeks.

“Truly?” she asked.

Ichigo smiled. “Truly.”

When he drew her close she was smiling, the smile he had seen so many nights before.

And it was easy enough for them to be seduced into another kiss.

---

It was between the kisses, his bites on her shoulders and the soft sighs that rolled from their lips and that she found them.

“You absolute cad.”

Ichigo raised his head from his position near Orihime when he felt Tatsuki’s clenched fist collide with his face.

---

Despite the bruise, Ichigo had to admit they had been quite fortunate.

The courtship began almost immediately after that night. After being berated by Tatsuki and warned sternly by Lily, Orihime's trips with Ichigo were chaperoned as he took her around London, noting his favourite spots by the Mall, Kensington and the parks in between.

Tsukishima departed as quickly as he arrived in London. He seemed quite agreeable after that, sending down Orihime’s telescope with plans for her horse to be delivered shortly.

“How fortunate!” she beamed as she recalled his letter later to Ichigo. He scoffed. Yes, it was fortunate indeed. He would let her know the full brunt of their encounter later, but he was satisfied holding her hand.

She had visited the Kurosaki home more and more often. His sisters enjoyed her company, with many fevered plans made for her to visit the country pile before the wedding.

It had been a very clear decision from the start and he had made his intentions clear since the first outing chaperoned. Blushing she had nodded in agreement and he knew they would share many more moments together.

Everything remained chaste in the mean time of course. He still felt the impact of Tatsuki’s knuckle on his cheek several weeks later.

Only a handful of people knew of the previous encounters, and when the Marquess Isshin found much later when his first grandchild was born, he roared with laughter.

Ichigo accepted it. It really was ridiculous once he thought about it.

He even took the teasing from his friends lightly as Orihime entered more friend-orientated dinner parties. Keigo was particularly tickled even with the mention that Ichigo was very soothing when he read poems to her.

It was all something Ichigo tolerated, understood and accepted. And it was something Orihime accepted when they began to plan their visit to Ichigo’s ancestral home in the later months of autumn.

It was as she instructed the maids to store her summer clothes that she found the mask again.

She thumbed it with her fingers as she smiled down in wonder.

It had been seven months since that moment. They would be married by the start of the next season.

And yet she could still remember the smell of the evening primrose and the softness of his kiss.

She held the mask tightly and placed it on her dressing table.

It would be a keepsake for her new journey ahead.

---

END

#IchiHime #Kurosaki Ichigo #Inoue Orihime #bleach stuff #sesamefics

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robezpierre · 7 years

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RPG Character 2: Breca

Breca was a half-orc fighter, 4th edition. My first time 4th edition campaign, my first campaign in college - this was gonna be great! I’d been looking for a campaign since I started, and it was my second semester. The bubbly, overly friendly senior on my floor of freshmen was looking to recruit one more for a campaign, and had just gotten another senior in when I asked. He was skeptical, but I had (and have) a stack of 4e books a foot high that were begging to be played. Also, the DM was super cool. I was in.

I got to the character creation session, ready to go and with no idea of what I’d be playing. I knew that 4th had specific party roles that needed to be filled, so I wanted to wait to see what was needed. We had some form of caster (I think elven sorcerer), a professor from the Elven Realms, played by the friendly senior, a human artificer named Liv by the senior he recruited, another senior’s shifter with a class I don’t remember, a human (?) Shaman, with a gorilla spirit familiar, I think, played by yet another senior (who, funny story, is and was dating my partner’s older sister), and a pixie psion named Pix played by a junior. The DM was also a junior, so I was the youngest of the group by several years. The hole in the group was a defender, so I decided to go as basic as possible: fighter. The easiest race to pair it with, to keep everything in one book, was a half-orc.

So began my main theme with Dungeons and Dragons characters: I’ve named all but the most recent two using the ‘suggested names’ category of the book, based on race and perceived gender. Breea, sounds good, I thought. When our Dm wrote the names on the board, however, that got mutated by my messy scrawl into Breca. Still sounds good, I decided, and the campaign began.

There were so many things that we got into and did, and it would take to long to get into them, but the highlights included Breca finding a ditzy blue parakeet/yellow palomino mix hippogriff, and (eventually) taming him. His name was Cookie, so named because I brought cookies to every single session of game, a cunning ploy to make the Upper Classmen like me. Also meeting the crown prince of her country while crocheting chain mail, and snapping someone’s neck after Liv had been kidnapped. That campaign ended after we triggered a deadman’s switch, tied to a bunch of bombs scattered throughout the capital city, by causing the person with the switch to have an allergic reaction to walnut dust, and then accidentally almost drowning him while trying to stop his death and the subsequent explosions. The DM, being the great person she is, gave us all one last save to not bleed out, and Breca managed to get a natural 20 and on her feet, and from there she got everyone else up and putting out fires as well. But the best stories, the ones that deserve elaboration, involved squirrels.

During character creation, you see, I had never played 4th before, and we were starting at about level 3, which meant magic items selection. Not knowing what I was doing, I assumed that I wasn’t supposed to get useful things, like armor or a sword, because that might be cheating, and I hadn’t bribed my way into the good graces of the Upper Classmen yet. So, I got three worthless items; the only one I remember is boots that let me walk on water, that were never useful. When I announced my magic items, then, naturally, I was met with shocked faces. “What about a magic weapon?” Unwilling to admit my mistake, I decided that Breca had a traumatic event when she had been in basic training for her country’s military: She picked up a magic sword, which transformed her instantly into a squirrel. This resulted in two great fears, one of magic weapons (to explain away the lack of magic sword), and one of squirrels.

Like most groups, we traveled through the woods on multiple equations. There were towns to get to, and airships (the setting having a light steampunk flavor I consistently forgot about) were expensive. What lives in the woods? Squirrels. Breca was on watch when she suddenly noticed movement out of the corner of her eye, and panicked - a squirrel was perched on a nearby branch. The Shifter was home ruled to be allowed to shift fully into feline form, and so often became a snow leopard whenever he felt like it, such as when Breca noticed the squirrel. “I roll to throw the snow leopard at the squirrel” is simultaneously one of the oddest phrases I have ever uttered, and also resulted in a fantastic role and dinner for the snow leopard. Breca would go on to conquer her fear of magic weapons while rescuing Liv, but squirrels would remain her small, furry nemeses for the rest of her days.

Which were essentially forever. Liv and Breca had, unstated and unplanned, become a couple somewhere during campaign, so Liv made robotic bodies for the two, and for Cookie, so that they could live together forever. Two women and their extremely unintelligent Hippogriff.

#Dungeons and Dragons #character concept #half orc fighter #Breca #I'm planning on crocheting a Breca figure in a bit #and a Cookie is the next one on my list #I don't really talk to Liv's player anymore #sadly #otherwise I'd ask her whatLiv looked like and make one of her too #i swear there's a space between what and Liv there #but seriously #there were so many silly moments in that campaign

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charlottemaunqmal-blog · 7 years

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Plenk

Fabia's heavy footfalls echoed in the near-empty corridors of downtown Rata Sum. Thud. Thud. Thud. "What was the apartment number again?" she asked Charlotte, eyeing a single asura passerby who flattened her ears at the sight of the human and charr.

"57A01-B-57," Charlotte answered, looking at the buildings. "I have no idea what that means, though."

Fabia rolled her eyes then stopped to squint at a holographic street sign. "57A0...2... A. I think we're on the wrong street. Must be close, though, right?" She glanced at Charlotte with genuine concern showing on her muzzle, for once.

Charlotte pursed her lips at the sign and looked around. Spotting the asura they'd just past, she backtracked. "Excuse me!"

The asura froze in place and her ears twitched. There was a palpable pause for consideration before she decided to turn around, huge eyes blinking several times. "May I assist you?"

Charlotte gave her a ditzy smile. "I'm soooooo sorry to bother you, it's just your city is so confusing! I think we need some help figuring out where we're going. I'm sure you have better things to do, but do you think you could help us find this address?"

Charlotte pulls a piece of paper from her coat pocket with the address written on it and shows it to the asura.

The asura did a poor job of masking her indignation and sighed as she reached up to take the note. "You're very nearly there, actually." She pointed, as she handed the note back. "One avenue forward, and one left, and it will be in the subsequent complex. You'll figure it out from there on, I'm certain."

"Oh, wow, thank you so much! No wonder all you asura have advanced degrees." Charlotte laughs as she shoves the paper back into her pocket and turns back to Fabia. The dopey smile falls immediately from her face.

The asura mutter something like "quite" and wanders off down the street, somewhat hurriedly.

Fabia shakes her head a little and starts to head in the direction Charlotte was told. "Maybe if they gave their roads names, like normal people..." She kept her eyes up to look for the apartment complex as they neared.(edited)

"Honestly," Charlotte says, sounding intensely irritated. She walks fast, as though this is a task she wants to dispense with as quickly as possible. "I can't fathom why he'd have an apartment here. I think I'd go mad."

The building loomed into view, lit by hovering diamond-shaped lights. A holographic callbox glowed by the front entrance, with numbers and names listed on it.

Fabia curled her tail around a leg to avoid whapping some random asura as people began to slowly, quietly fill the streets again, coming or going from their lunchbreaks. She narrowed her eyes as one of the asura approached the building in question and began tapping on the callbox.

Charlotte stands a little aside from the doorway. She's pulled the paper out of her pocket again and is squinting at it as thought still a lost and confused bookah. She waits for the asura to finish typing in her code and open the door.

The door hissed as it slid open, and the little asura woman toddled inside without a care in the world as the charr and human lingered nearby.

Charlotte waits until the last possible moment to stick her leg in the doorway, stopping the door from closing. It hisses back open. She ducks her head inside to make the helpful door-opening asura has moved on.

The little woman was nowhere in sight, probably already in her apartment.

Charlotte waves at Fabia to follow her and enters the hallway. She consults a glowing sign on the wall. "Fifth floor." She looks up and down the hallway again. No sign of stairs.

Fabia's horns clattered loudly as she stumbled her way through the little door. She spat a curse in Charr.

"Hey, careful," Charlotte chides. "Keep your head down or you're going to gouge tracks in the ceiling. I don't think they'll appreciate it." She turns right and follows the corridor to its end, looking for a way up.

"Well I don't appreciate their shitty ceilings, so it's even," Fabia growled, electing to pad about on all fours as she followed Charlotte.

Around the corner Charlotte finds a staircase leading up. It's ceiling is even lower than the corridor, and Charlotte has to stoop a little to go up. "By all the gods," she mutters under her breath. "I hope Fred IS here so that I can punch him for making me deal with this bullshit."

Fabia just stared at the tiny staircase.

"Come ON," Charlotte urges irritably as she starts up. "And don't gore me in the ass."

"Then get your ass up the steps quicker, because kitten's gonna have to go sideways." Fabia eased into the stairwell, head turned to the side to keep her horns from getting stuck in the walls.

Charlotte hurries up the stairs, grumbling all the way about short risers and claustrophobia.

As mathematically illogical as it may seem to a non-asura, the door labeled 57 was the first one at the top of the stairs.

Charlotte stands in front of it, slightly out of breath, and straightens her coat as she waits for Fabia to catch up.

Fabia clattered and thudded and scrabbled and finally popped out of the stairwell like a toy snake popping out of a can.

Charlotte blinks and steps back to make way. "All right, there?"

Fabia laid on the ground for a second or three, then stood up on all fours again and turned around. "Do not speak of this moment."

Charlotte suppresses a smile. "Heavens, no. Upon my honor." She reaches out to knock on the door.

The annoyed cry from inside the apartment was followed by those stompy kind of angry footsteps a mother makes on her way to scold a child. The door hissed open and a furious-looking asura man stood there, about to yell at Charlotte's kneecaps, then he was startled and had to look up.

"Oh," he said, and frowned, looking between Charlotte and Fabia a few times. "You're not college students."

Charlotte blinks, looks at Fabia, looks back at the asura. "No," she agrees. "We're not."

Fabia crossed her arms.

The man's frown turned pensive, then outright intrigued. "Are you Charlotte?"

Charlotte's eyebrow quirks up. "Yes," she says cautiously.

The man glanced past them into the hall, then stepped aside of the doorway, beckoning them in. "Come in then, hurry. Who are you?" He asked of the charr.

"Fabia."

Charlotte steps into the apartment and looks around.

Mercifully, the ceilings were high. There were huge windows, too, but they were covered with blackout curtains, which then had blueprints and pictures of buildings tacked all over them. Short, but expansive tables filled the room, with even more blueprints on them, some paper and some holographic. The door to the bedroom hung open, and it looked perfectly tidy in there, whereas the couch was covered in empty food packets and the pillows wrinkled to flattening.

The man hurried toward the kitchen, where he grabbed a pitcher from the hands of what looked like a tiny countertop golem made of ice. "Would you both like water? Lemon or lime?"

Charlotte peruses the blueprints and surreptitiously checks out the bedroom. "Fred told you to expect me?" she asks.

"No," the man said.

"I'll take lime," Fabia said with a shrug.

"I'm Creator Plenk," the man said as he poured water for Fabia and tossed a lime to a little golem that went to work slicing it up for him. "Currently training to be a Lightbringer. I specialize," he said as he took a slice from the golem and placed it on the lip of the glass, "in obfuscated architecture."

Charlotte frowns. "What are you doing here? The files listed this as one of Fred's places." As an afterthought, she adds, "Lemon."

Plenk handed the glass up to Fabia and went to prepare another for Charlotte. "I've let him stay here before." He tossed his slicer golem a lemon. "We were friends, of a sort. But after I finished a project for him as a favor, he ceased contact with me."

"Did you know he's gone missing?" Charlotte asks. She perches on the arm of the couch to avoid sitting on the food wrappers.

Plenk shook his head a little as he placed the lemon on Charlotte's glass and carried it over to her. "I can't say I'm surprised." He realized there were wrappers all over the couch and tsked at himself, then went to work clearing space for Fabia.

Charlotte accepted the glass with a nod of thanks. "Why's that?"

"He nearly left the Order years ago." Plenk paused to look at Charlotte. "You were his partner. You didn't know?"

Charlotte grimaces. "He wasn't exactly forthcoming. I knew he had... issues with the Order."

"Mm," Plenk hmmed in agreement, and fluffed a pillow on the couch. He patted a cushion and looked to Fabia, who just stood there and glowered while sipping her lime water. So Plenk shrugged, and went to grab a remote from a table. "I built him an underground fortress, of sorts. Not that large, of course, but it had scrying shielding, magic null fields..." he stopped to sigh, and pushed a button on the remote which made the blackout curtains rise, letting light in the room. "A sylvari down there probably wouldn't have heard Mordremoth. One of my best works."

Charlotte glances at Fabia and then looks back at Plenk. "That's a pretty big project to do as a favor, especially for someone you describe only as a friend 'of sorts.'"(edited)

Plenk cleared his throat. "I owed him. It was also a passion project. Most Order-sanctioned safehouses don't allow the utilization of experimental technology, especially related to scrying... they do like to spy on their own people." He smiled humorlessly.

"I see," Charlotte says drily. "How did you know who I was when you opened the door?"

"I've heard your description," Plenk said with a light shrug. "Although I thought you were supposed to be blond." He waved a hand and set his remote down, picked up a holographic blueprint and offered it out to them. "Here, Fred's base is based on this. Only one manual entrance, all other entry points are via one-way gate."

Fabia went to take it. "But where is it?"

Charlotte stands and walks over to Fabia, looking around her shoulder at the hologram.(edited)

The hologram showed, in 3D, a cube-shaped room with a single staircase leading to its ceiling. The walls appeared to be covered in screens of some kind, and there was a platform in the middle.

Charlotte shakes her head faintly in bemusement and repeats Fabia's question. "Where is it?"

Plenk put his hands on his hips and looked up at them. "I'm not sure if I should tell you."

"You've already told use enough to get yourself in trouble," Charlotte points out. "Be a shame if I had to tell M and ruin your chances of making Lightbringer."(edited)

Plenk grinned. "He doesn't scare me."

Fabia finally sat on the couch and it groaned in surprise at her weight.

Charlotte looks at Plenk for a long moment, considering. "You aren't really set against telling us or you wouldn't have brought it up. So what do you want in exchange?"

Plenk ran a hand over his bald head, then looked between the two of them. "A favor for a favor seems fair. If I need help from the two of you in the future, I'll cash in."

"It better not involve donating body parts to science."

Plenk laughs, genuinely surprised. "I'm not that kind of scientist."

Fabia set her glass on a table and kept spinning the 3D blueprint around in her hand.

Charlotte raises an eyebrow at Fabia, wondering what she thinks of this favor-for-a-future-favor deal.

Fabia shrugged a bit, flicked a switch on the side of the holoprojector to close the blueprint, and tossed it onto a table. She stood and went to Charlotte's side.

Plenk eyed them both. "Something of equal importance and/or risk, of course. Nothing mad or dangerous."

Charlotte taps her finger against her lips pensively. "What's your security level?" she asks Plenk.

Plenk quirked a brow. "Five, right now. I'll reach six if my interview with a preceptor goes well, in two days."

Charlotte smiles. "How would you like to be owed two favors?"

Fabia raised her paws. "I don't need to see the file. I'll pass on this one, and just take the one favor."

Plenk smiled faintly, looking from one to the other. "Charlotte, if you can guarantee I pass that interview, I'll use my level six access for whatever it is you need."

"Who's the preceptor?"

"I don't know yet," Plenk said. "But there's a new one--some kid no one knows much about, just made it to preceptor. If you can find a way to make sure she's the one who interviews me, I'm sure I'll make it. The veterans are too well studied; they'll make it harder on me."

Charlotte thinks a moment, then nods. "No guarantees, but I'll see what I can do. If I can swing it, I want to see Fred's file. The complete file." She points at the holoprojection cube. "And for the location of this secret lair, we'll owe you one. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Plenk said, smiling. "It's in his farmhouse."

Fabia facepalmed.

Charlotte shakes her head. "I fucking knew it."

"There's a lamp in his bedroom on the second floor, and one above his gun case on the first floor. The bedroom has to be dark and the gun case has to be lit. That allows a switch behind the gun case to be pressed," Plenk explained, going to pick up the 3D blueprint off the table. He opened it up and pointed to the staircase. "Leads down to this. Be careful though--who knows if he's armed any traps since I built it."

Charlotte heaves a sigh. "Knowing Fred..." She finishes her lemon water, seems ready to stand up and leave, but then pauses. "Why'd he almost leave the Order? Before?"

Plenk shrugged. "I don't know. He and M got into some kind of debacle."

Charlotte nods vaguely. "All right. You've been very helpful, Plenk. I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you get your promotion."

Plenk folded his hands behind his back and nodded. "Looking forward to it. If that's everything...?"

Charlotte stands and starts for the door, then stops. "One other thing, actually. Did Fred ever mention a woman named Helena? Or maybe Jewel?"

Plenk takes an honest amount of time to try and recall. "No, sorry."

Charlotte nods. "Thanks for your time, Plenk. I'll be in touch."

Plenk nods again and goes to close his curtains again.

Fabia follows Charlotte in gruff silence.

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