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velvet underground.

04/10/2021 11:18 PM 

ending a war. [cs]

july 17th, 2009 - stevie nicks and lindsey buckingham record 'solder's angel"for her album 'in your dreams', a camera crew caught the making of the song for herdocumentary also entitled 'in your dreams' "i go to walter reed hospital frequently to visit our wounded solders, and the first timei went in there i went with no issues or problems, and when i left i was a changed womani was a grieving mother, a sister, a friend and i knew i needed to do something to give backto these men and women so i do what i do best - i wrote a song. when i decided i wanted it on this album i needed someone who's guitar playing matched my emotions with singing it, so i called lindsey. it's nice, after all these years, him and i can be in the same room working on music and not be at each other's throats. he's truly my best friend, and i feellike him and i working on this together was like a new beginning for lindsey and i. in anway, it was like it ended a long war."


04/10/2021 10:51 PM 


  Things with Sarah seemed to be finally getting back on track. They’d been good friends once upon a time - no, they’d been like family. She had been her older sister’s best friend.. She had been her rock, she’d been like another sister to her, or at least that had been the case until Mackenzie had decided to sleep with her boyfriend. She’d only been 19 at the time and changed a lot since then, but still, she knew that she had hurt the other female a lot and had been trying to make up for that ever since the two of them had reconnected at the coffee shop. She wasn’t sure if they would be successful in rekindling their friendship, but she was hopeful! It wasn’t like she had an awful lot of female friends, preferring to stick to herself, so when Sarah had agreed to meet her for a girls’ day out, she had been more than happy about it.  Drinking, dancing, and a show. That seemed like the perfect way to spend a Sweet Saturday. Maybe even a few tasty treats from the bakery up the road too. Hearing her phone start to ring, Kenzie answered it and raised it to her ear, a warm smile spreading across her lips when she heard the other female’s voice. “Hey. I’ll be at Kraken & Grill in like, half an hour. See you then!” she stated as she hung up the phone and made her way over to her car. She opened the car door and slid into the driver’s seat, fastening her seatbelt before making her way towards the restaurant and bar. Reaching over, she turned the radio on and turned the music up. She wished that she was as talented as the voice on the radio; maybe then she wouldn’t have been stuck at a dead-end job working for tips as a bartender, but then again, maybe if she actually turned up to her shifts she wouldn’t have been.  Taking a deep breath, Kenzie shook her head and freed her mind of the million things that seemed to be flooding it as she made the short drive to the restaurant. She was starving, but mostly, she wanted a drink that she didn’t have to get herself and at a place where she didn’t work. Finding a park, she opened the door and grabbed her purse and phone, sending Sarah a quick text. “Hey. I’m here. How far are you?” Once she’d sent the message, she shut the car door and locked it before heading inside and making her way straight for the bar, glancing around as she weaved her way through the various people standing around, making sure that Sarah hadn’t already arrived. After perching herself upon the barstool, she leaned over and waved down the bartender. “Hey, can I just grab a glass of wine please?”  


04/10/2021 10:21 PM 


  #past drabble 2013 “I’ve already told you, Mackenzie. You are not going anywhere!” the older woman scolded the 16-year-old. Who did she think she was? She wasn’t her mother, she couldn’t tell her what to do or where to go and Kenzie reminded her of that often. Rolling her dark brown hues, she turned on her heels and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind herself as she left her grandmother’s home and walked over to the awaiting car. “Hey, thanks for picking me up, Brody,” she mumbled as she opened the car door and slid into the backseat. She could see her grandmother out of the corner of her eye, running out of the house and waving a slipper as she protested her granddaughter leaving. “You are just like your mother!” she screamed as the car pulled out of the curb and headed down the road. She was used to her grandmother carrying on like that now, and so were all of Kenzie’s friends. Her grandmother always had something to scream about, but Kenzie let it roll off her back and tried not to let it bother her, though that was easier said than done. Biting down on her lower lip, Mackenzie sunk into her seat and pulled her seatbelt over her slender frame as she pulled out her phone. Once she’d unlocked her phone, she searched for her girlfriend’s last message. “I need to see you.” She could feel the tear cascading down her cheek as she sent the message. Avery was her favorite person. She was the one person who Mackenzie knew that she could always talk to no matter what and in that moment, she was the only person that Kenzie wanted to be around. “Hey, Mac. Sure you don’t want to come to Joey’s party? It’s gonna be a real baller.” Glancing up from her phone, Mackenzie glanced over at her friends and shook her head. “Nah. I’m just gonna go for a walk. I need to go and clear my head,” she mumbled, shrugging her shoulders, but she knew that the boys would understand. They knew her grandmother, Brody having dated her older sister for over a year. “Call me if you need anything and I’ll come and pick you up.” Nodding, Kenzie gave the boys a little wave as he pulled over and opened the car door. “Thanks, B.”    After walking through town for ten minutes or so, Kenzie felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and pulled it out; smiling when she saw her girlfriend’s name pop up on her screen. “Hey, baby. Meet me at The Vault. I’ll be there in twenty. Love you xx.” It was amazing how one little text from Avery could make her feel so much better. She shoved her phone back into her pocket, knowing that Avery wouldn’t expect a text back - she’d been with Mackenzie long enough to know how she was and that she’d turn up. Running her hand through her hair slowly, she turned the corner and made the short walk to The Vault. It was their special place. It was where Mackenzie had first told Avery that she was in love with her. It was where they’d had their first real kiss so it was special to her. “A?” she called out as she walked through the entrance. She didn’t even know if the place had another name, but to her and Avery it was the vault. Maybe they’d named it that because of it’s shape, or because for the first months of their relationship (before Mackenzie had come out to her family), it was the place they’d escaped to in order to keep their secret. It was a vault, it was their vault.  “Hey red,” Avery grinned as she bounced around the corner and into Mackenzie’s embrace. As Mackenzie wrapped her arms around the blonde and placed a gentle kiss against her girlfriend’s soft lips, she felt a tear escape her eyelid and roll down her cheek. “Baby what’s wrong?” Mackenzie slowly pulled back and wiped her tear, biting down on the corner of her mouth. “I had a fight with gran,” she mused, shaking her head and walking over to sit down on the floor in the corner, shaking her head as her gaze moved from the floor to her girlfriend’s face. “I’m too much like my mother apparently. I’m too much of a handful.” Pulling her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around her legs and tilted her head to the side. “Can we just stay here tonight?” Avery didn’t say a word but nodded, moving to sit down next to Mackenzie. “I love you, Blondie,” she whispered, moving her head to her girlfriend’s shoulders and closing her eyes.  

"great warrior"

04/10/2021 09:43 PM 

I’ll Come Back, When You Call Me

Erik.   He immediately tensed at the sound of his name. Looking around for the source within the bazar.   Most recently, he had taken refuge in South Africa. He could’ve gone to Mexico. That might have been the most obvious choice for someone on the run from—among others—the U.S. government. And he had for a time. But ultimately, he had simply been passing through. He could probably have stayed there and disappeared in any major city just as well as he thought that he had in South Africa—he was fluent in Spanish after all—but Mexico did not feel far enough from those who would seek to find him—both friend and foe.   So when the opportunity to cross over to another continent had presented itself, he had seized upon it, thinking he could be just another passing face in the crowd here. As long as he kept his interactions limited and never let anyone look to closely at his face to question why he looked familiar or to listen too long to his voice to ponder the source of his accent, he imagined he would be able to stay for quite some time. That is, until he found some significant reminder of the life he could’ve been living if he had not acted impulsively to save the life of another man. Because that selfless act, had set a chain of events in motion that had taken the life of his wife and child.   But it turned out that all his precautions and careful planning were for naught.   Someone had found him here.   Erik.   The voice game again, and this time Erik realized he was not hearing it through his ears, but in his mind. That did little to ease his tension, however. He’d never known a telepath—besides Charles with the help of Cerebro—who could reach a mind without being within fairly close proximity to their victim. Not that it mattered; either way, someone had found him. He couldn’t stay here anymore.   Though, if it was Charles, he could have stayed. He knew Charles wouldn’t betray his location to the authorities, no matter if he had threatened to do so in the past, he’d never truly meant it. And even if he did move upon Charles finding him, it wouldn’t matter because—much to his dismay—there was nowhere he could run where Charles wouldn’t be able to find him.     But the voice did not belong to his old friend. It was too different, strong but hesitant and female besides.   And young.   It was impossible to tell just how young based on a voice alone, but if he had to guess, he’d say the speaker couldn’t be beyond her twenties at the oldest. Not that he was about to let his guard down simply because of youth. The young could be just as deadly as the old. He had been proof enough of that once.   Shaw had made sure of it.   Who are you, and how did you find me?   Erik replied in his own mind. The latter question was more important than the former, but he would prefer to have answers to both.   He had already left the bazar, abandoning the plums he had been about to purchase without a second thought. But he had no intention of returning to his sparse flat. There was nothing there he cared for enough to retrieve. Everything and everyone he had ever loved was gone. His only treasured possession was his mother’s locket, which he carried on his person, but even that was tainted now . . . he’d forever sullied it when he had used it to kill after his little girl . . . after his Nina . . .   Erik forced himself out of that particular train of thought. He needed to pay attention. Whoever had contacted him must be close, and could be waiting to attack at any moment. If that happened, he had to be ready. As much as he wasn’t afraid of death, he had no desire to be a prisoner ever again. He had spent enough time under the thumb of another, and he had no intention of returning to such a state. He’d rather die than go back to that. And though it made him sick to think about, it was entirely possible that a mutant could be working with the feds. If so, they would find any mercy that he may have had died along with his family.   Oh.   Erik may have imagined it, but he thought he could feel the girl flinch back at the force of his animosity.   Mr. Lehnsherr, I wasn’t sure this would work. I—I—It’s Jean. Jean Grey.   Jean?   His response was automatic. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t Jean Grey, the girl who had taken down quite possibly the most powerful being in the history of the world that was allegedly responsible for all mutants’ existence.   How. . . . Are you using Cerebro? What do you want?   Erik continued, and though he kept on a course that would eventually lead him to his ‘go-bag’ and then the airport, he was less worried now. But still, he was concerned, not so much about becoming a prisoner anymore, but about what her contacting him might mean. It wasn’t as if they had really bonded in the few short days Erik had spent at the school after everything with Apocalypse. Sure, they had helped rebuild the mansion together, but beyond that, they were merely acquittances. So whatever she was contacting him about could not be good news.   Yes. I’ve never used it before so that’s—I wasn’t sure it would work. And I—I don’t know what I would’ve done if it didn’t. I—you—you have to come back to the school.   Why? Is it . . . has something happened . . . to Charles?   Erik asked. Dread creeping into his ‘voice’. Despite their differences, the world would still be much worse off without Charles Xavier in it.   No—no he’s fine. The Professor doesn’t even know I planned to contact you.   Erik felt a flash of relief, followed by a wave of annoyance at being bothered if nothing was the matter with Charles, but both feelings were short-lived. It had taken a moment, but he hadn’t missed her inflection.   Then . . . Raven?   No. She’s fine too.   Came Jean’s quick reply.   Hank?   Who else was there? Alex, Sean, Angel, Azazel, Emma, Darwin, the rest were already gone. He and Hank . . . well they would never be friends, especially after Paris, but still, he would not wish death upon the man.   No, all of them are fine.   Then, why exactly are you contacting me? Why have you gone behind Charles’ back to do so? I left for a reason. I have no desire to be contacted on a teenager’s whim. So someone better be dying.   Gone was his anxiety now. Anger had replaced it, not in full force, but it was there all the same. Was it too much to ask to be left alone to his pitiful existence?   Someone is . . . It’s—it’s Peter. He’s sick. Really sick. It’s cancer.   Jean replied and there was clear grief and hurt in her voice now. Erik racked his brain. Peter . . . who . . .   An image of a boy with silver hair, flashy clothes, and a cheeky grin came to his mind, answering his own question.   The speedster?   Yes.   Jean was quick to confirm.   I’m sorry.   And he was. He bore no ill will against the boy. The opposite in fact. Although he was a little over zealous, his powers were something to behold, and without him, Erik might very well still be stuck a hundred floors beneath the Pentagon.    He seemed like a good kid. Erik continued. But I fail to see how his wellbeing concerns me.   He needs a bone marrow transplant. Jean pressed on. We’ve tested every willing mutant at the school but no one’s a match. He’s on a waitlist too, but he can’t wait years or even months for a match. He—he doesn’t have that kind time.   So what then? I am your one last shot in the dark is that it? Erik asked, admiring the girl a bit for doing everything in her power to help her ailing friend, but he was afraid that her good intentions would be left fruitless. I understand that you want to do everything you can for your friend, Jean. And I am grateful for Peter’s help in the past, but people die every day. And if his circumstances are as dire as you make them seem, then I doubt I would make it back to Westchester in time to make a difference. Besides, if no one else has been a match, then don’t you think, that the chances are, I won’t be either? Why should I be any different from the rest?   There was a long pause, so much so that Erik wondered whether their connection had been broken. Maybe Charles or Hank had found Jean using Cerebro without their knowledge, or maybe she’d been so upset by Erik’s reply that she’d cut off their connection willingly.   But then she spoke once more.   You’re different, because—because .  . . you’re his father, Erik.   At that, Erik stopped in his tracks. Someone bumped into him on the busy sidewalk and muttered a profanity before continuing on, but Erik paid them no mind, so caught on that word—father.   Father. . . .   Father. . . .   Father.   That’s—That’s absurd. And impossible. Erik said finally. I’m not—He’s not my son. I don’t have a son. I have no family left. Why on earth would you suggest such a thing? I understand that losing someone you care about is painful—believe me I do—but that you would stoop so low as to suggest that he’s my—that I’m his—it’s preposterous, and I no longer have the patience for this conversation. Goodbye, Miss Grey.   Though he knew he did not have the power to sever their connection, Erik thoughts were harsh and unrelenting, and if the girl knew what was good for her, she would bother Erik no more. But even as he sought to push her away, the boy’s image returned to his mind and the offhand comment he had once made came back to him . . .   You know, my mom once knew a guy who could do that.   No.   It wasn’t possible. Before Nina, he had always been careful, careful to make sure there were no little Lehnsherrs running around because he would be the first to admit that from the time he had taken up hunting Shaw again to the moment he met the future mother of his second daughter, he had been in no state to be a father.   No, it’s true. Jean’s voice came flooding back into Erik’s mind once more, this time with an air of determination. Peter’s full name is Pietro Django Maximoff. He was born in 1956 to Magda Maximoff. He’s your son, Erik. Please—you have to believe me.   No. No. No. It couldn’t be true. He couldn’t have had a son out there all this time.   He wanted to ignore the conclusion his mind was speeding toward, but he couldn’t. Because he had been lying to himself. He hadn’t always been careful. There was a time before Nina when he welcomed the thought of being a father.   It felt almost like a dream to him now, or even another lifetime, but as much as he wanted to push it away, he couldn’t stop the unbidden memory from making its way to the forefront of his mind any longer. . . . “So . . .” Erik drawled out, tracing his fingers over the lines on the palm of one of Magda’s hands.   They were in bed, but in a hotel room, not a home. They didn’t yet have a place to call their own yet, but one day they would. Erik’s nomadic existence until recently hadn’t been conducive to the accumulation of wealth, but they’d get there. They’d never be rich, society had made sure of that, but they’d manage. Together, they’d give their child a home.   Erik continued, “Anya if it’s a girl, but what if it’s a boy?”   Magda turned from her back to her side to face him, her stomach protruding notably with pregnancy. “I told you, I’m almost certain it’s a girl.”   “I don’t see how you could possibly know that.” Was Erik’s quick reply.   “What, you don’t want a girl?” Magda shot back at him, but it was clear she was joking. She knew Erik had no misconstrued notions about the worth of a child based on gender.   “You know I would love a little girl, but a boy would be wonderful too. I’m just trying to be prepared.”   Magda laughed at him at that and pressed their foreheads together. “There’s no preparing for this. We’ll never be ready, but we’ll figure it out. Together.”   Erik smiled back at her. “That we will.” He said clasping her hand in his own larger ones. “But even so . . . humor me, will you? After all, I think she or he might eventually get lonely without a sibling. Don’t you agree?” He asked as he brought her in close for a quick but passionate kiss.   Magda rolled her eyes at him after they separated, but answered all the same. “Okay, okay. You’re so pushy. Just like this little one.” Magda said gesturing to her stomach. “Always with the kicking. . . .” She smiled down at her stomach, resting one hand there fondly for a moment. “If the baby is a boy, which, for the record, she’s not, I like Pietro.” Erik was thrown abruptly back into the present as he let the memory run its course.   Erik? Mr. Lehnsherr, are you there?   Jean’s voice came again, softer now, making Erik wonder how much of the memory she had seen.   Erik swallowed. Y—yes, I’m here. The Boy, he’s—he’s really my son? Truly?   Erik asked Jean, even though he already knew the answer.   Yes. He is. . . And he needs your help.   Erik felt his hand begin to shake, but it was that or metal, and he couldn’t let himself be exposed, not now.   This—this transplant, it will save him?   He asked, even though he already suspected the answer. However, still, he half-expected Jean to lie to him just to get him to come back to Westchester.   It might. . . . It might not. And that’s assuming you are a match in the first place.   So, if I come back . . . I might not be a match, or even if I am, it might not matter? He could still die.   It wasn’t a question.   Yes. And Erik was sure he wasn’t imagining the fear in Jean’s voice anymore. But Erik . . . if you don’t come, it’s not even a question of if. He will die.   Erik closed his eyes. And just like that, he was in the past, looking down at Anya’s still form, and then Nina’s, both scenes he had lived through and replayed in his mind again and again. But this time the image changed once more. This time, it was The Boy’s body who lay unmoving before him with his eyes wide open and unseeing. Eyes that Erik now realized—if his memory was accurate—looked painfully like that of Anya’s and Nina’s and his late mother’s.    If Erik was being honest with himself. He still didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to be a father again. Didn’t want to bury another child. But whether or not he went, he still would be responsible for The Boy’s life, and possibly . . . his death. And thus, another one of his children would still end up in the ground. He couldn’t ignore that fact.

ς⊕ηƒïdεη† huη†εr.

04/10/2021 09:07 PM 

The start of it all - Drabble/Sample.

This is based on a song, McKenna Breinholt - Save Me.You can look it up or you can click the link below.Song.Blood. So much f***ing blood. ~~ The night turned out to be so good at first. Her mother was laughing at something her father was telling them from his last hunt. Being the clown of the family, Alethea Rosa Brooklyn sat between her father and mother by the couch in front of the fireplace. Big brown eyes peering up at them with interest - The story was funny, she never cared for hunting monsters, it was a kind of something they had to do when the time came to it. The small living room was part of a cabin she and her family are in, the carved wood held up from the time of the three families of ancient war. A rectangle carpet made out of black fabric allowed herself and her sibling to feel warm while sitting. She was less interested in the hunting, but James, her brother dull honey eyes stared with interest. The wide grin on his face making that pretty obvious. James was a sickly pale teenager, older than herself by at least an hour. At least he was supposed to be, but his lack of seriousness left him acting like a fool. Even as a fool, some thought he might be a good older brother. Alethea inwardly sighed. Oh, how she wished. By any account he was a tall lanky male with a sickly complexion and light brown eyes; almost like the color of honey and a dash of brown mixed in there. He had long brown hair tied into a low ponytail with low bangs falling down his forehead but leaving middle space. A square jaw made him somewhat tense-looking - which was a complete bull. James was a coward through everything. “...And then the basta-” “Steve!” The mother of the two frowned at the male sitting on the couch. His head snapping to her at the icy undertone, before allowing a slow uneasy smile to take over his face. Rania didn’t seem to care for it, though, and rolled her eyes at them. Unlike either of her children, she has her hair black through her years, cut short to her shoulder to frame her soft heart-shaped face. The same deep brown eyes narrowing at the man she loved. “Sorry dear,” He tried to say with the same smile. His voice quivered with the tale sign of hidden laughter, which was easy to note. He bowed his head, allowing his hand to rub the back of his head. The dyed hair of black and blue left him with less than a fatherly image. He also had his little girl’s brown eyes with a hint of green spots in them. Some assumed that he would have the same body as his son, which was partly true. Steve Brooklyn wearing clothes seemed to be rather lanky, but once that was gone he appeared more of the fit type of fair amount of strength. “Anyway, this hunter appeared cocky as hell.” Steve continued with another amiable smile. The room instantly covered with tension when their mother spoke. He spoke, and the room went back to easy laughs and smiles. James and Alethea's shoulders instantly losing the tension much like the entire room. Rania sighed heavily, closing her eyes, allowing her face to soften while sipping on her coffee. “The fool fell on his own gun and shot himself in the knee! All we could do was stand there, staring at him stunned while he was screaming.” Alethea blinked slowly. “...How could he be stupid enough to do that?” “Yeah, did he forget he dropped his gun on the ground?” James continued, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “You have to be bloody stupid or brain dead to do that.” He scoffed, turning his head away to drink the rest of his coffee. Rania sat her head back on the couch and withheld a laugh in their direction - at least she tried. It came out as more of a snort than anything else. “...Okay, kids. Don’t be mean he was pretty badly hurt.” James flushed with some shame in response to this. “S-Sorry.” “...Didn’t you say he deserved it?” Alethea squinted her eyes at them, her face scrunching up with distaste; Why did she have to be sorry for someone like that? He was cocky and got what he deserved. Those types of men are downright annoying. In school, she had to deal with the same kind. Safe to say, her education was never boring. Whatever I can always say sorry and think about it. Alethea decided, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “Sorry, there. Happy?” “Thea.” Rania frowned slightly. “Don’t be like that with your father. We both know the truth, but we shouldn’t enjoy someone’s suffering...” Her lip twitched at the corner.”...Even if they deserved it.” The Brooklyn’s erupted in laughter at this. It wasn’t every day you caught the wife joking about something like that - Rania was the polite one of the family, but that didn’t mean she didn’t think certain things that could be... Rude.  “A-Alright, Alright. Now, I have to go...” Just as the older male stood up, the ‘older’ sibling stood from his place, his honey eyes bright. “Dad, you said I could go this time.” He proclaimed, his head turning to his mother at the same time. “I can go now, right?” Alethea closed her eyes and slowly stood. As if to back out of the area, she quietly turned on her heel and made way for the small kitchen. Apologetic glance thrown over her shoulder to her mother and father. “...James.” Steve began slowly, glancing at his wife hesitantly. “I don’t-” “How long are you going to keep me in the dark!? Thea’s already took part, why can’t I!” “Enough!” The woman of the house allowed her voice to boom in the house with authority, her lips pressed into a stern line. Dark brown eyes narrowed dangerously when Jame’s opened his mouth to shout back at her once more. “James. We would have said yes, but didn’t you take another panic attack just yesterday?” she asked logically, standing from the couch and folding her hands in front of her lap. “What parents would we be if we just said yes?” “Not every good ones.” Steve joined in after moving to her side and placing his right arm around her shoulder. The blood rushed to his head, unlike those other times where James would feel guilt and calm down somehow. His hand clenched at his side until his knuckles are white. Narrowing his eyes back at his mother. “Really?” He bit back at them, startling Alethea, who was peeking around the corner with wide eyes in his direction. “You know what? Fine.” He turned his head away, throwing a menacing look in his sister’s direction before walking out of the cabin. “Jam-” she tried to call out to him. The door slammed before she could utter a word out more than his name. She found feeling the guilt. He was right, he might be sick, but she got a chance before he did. Maybe they haven’t been giving him time to be a big brother or a man. That night she tried her best to console her mother, who was stunned to have seen her son look at her with so much hate and resentment. Alethea couldn’t do much about it, other than punch his face when she saw him. With a heavy heart, she left her father and mother that night and returned to her bedroom on the second floor. Then she walked into the bedroom and ran her hand through her long brown locks that went down her back. Eyes closed tightly, a headache forming from the events previously downstairs. I swear if he shows his face... she draws a breath to crush the sudden nerves and emotions lingering with her, just a second ago she was pitying him, and now? Brooklyn’s and their temper, both siblings shared it, unfortunately. Her eyes opened and scanned her bedroom, her hand touching the wall near the door and flipping the light on. In all of her life, she stood to be... Not a tomboy, but not entirely girly either. She could fight like any male out there, and she adored boots and anything with a heel. That didn’t mean she wanted to put on pink or be bright - unless her hair counted. Alethea thought about doing her hair like her father one day. Maybe not now but later on in life. The room was dimly lit, the wooden flooring was cold, so she walked around in socks. The room was painted in a deep blue around her wall and her queen-sized bed fit near the door. On the right side was another door for her personal bathroom, and she had a couch at the front of the bed. Her bronze covers and white sheets complimenting the color theme. It wasn’t too much. Alethea tugged the sash around her waist and slid the black robe off her body, hanging it up on a stand on the wall by her bed. Crawling on it and sliding under warm covers. The light fabric of her gown did little to cover her in the frosty night air. She made sure not to walk around without heavy clothing when she could. Naturally. Taking another breath, she laid down and slept early that night - yet sleep didn’t come, anyway. Night ironically spooked her out way more than anything else. She didn’t know why, but it just seemed like something was watching her sleep... Honestly, she prayed that was wrong, but it didn’t seem like sleep would come tonight. Six hours of laying in bed and tossing and turning left her feeling frustrated and annoyed. Eventually, her body fell back on the bed with a thump, her eyes narrowed into the tight with her lips pressing into an angry line. This is f***ing ridiculous. The teen thought, squinting her eyes when something flashed into her room. “...What?” Throwing herself up for the tenth time that night. Her eyes squinted harder to see a light again, fire maybe? Alethea frowned. Hunter's instincts kicking in right away. She threw her legs over the side of the bed and quickly grabbed some clothing from the floor. For now, a fresh pair of jeans and a white shirt would have to do. She didn’t have time to find anything else. Sh*t, sh*t. She cursed her darn luck, then realized something even worse. Oh god, what about James?! Her eyes widened with horror before she stumbled into some old trainers and pulled her door open. “James? Jamie, are you back?!” Nothing. Silence followed with her call, making her heart thump against her chest, clear panic crossing her features. Alethea opened his door across her own and checked in to see it clearly. Stepping inside some more, her gaze shifted to the window open with the wind blowing the green curtain lightly, brows furrowed slightly on her head when she neared them. Heading cautiously, peeking out to see the fire in the distance. A shaky breath was released from her mouth, reaching for the window above her head, dragging it down to keep out the cold air. She hated James for making so much trouble for them. This was getting beyond the joke now. Alethea turned on her heel and made way for the door again with a heavy sigh. “James, where the f*** are you?” She questioned to no one, at least she didn’t think so. Then suddenly the sound of a crash downstairs alerted her to some trouble. Jumping slightly, her body moved into action and darted back out the door. The door handle pulled so hard it slammed against the wall on her way out. Heading right downstairs when her mother suddenly popped up around the corner with her hands on her shoulders. “Ma...-” She opened her mouth only to gape, her mother's lovely hair which was tied into a neat bun before now half-cut on the right side, the rest falling down the left. Her nightgown was ripped up down the front of her chest with blood sticking to the fabric and her pale skin. Confusion rose instantly in Alethea, her brown eyes looking at her mother in concern. Rania shaking her head, her trembling hands shushing her instantly. “Not now.” She said her eyes looking behind her and then back to her daughter. Something is terribly wrong. I’ve never seen her like this... Alethea was stupid and shut her mouth, instead allowing her gaze to search the room. The crash must have been her mother coming back from the hunt. Then where was their dad? Her eyes darted to her frantic mother and fear slowly filled her body, her body freezing on the spot. No, he was okay; he was careful - he had to be. That was all she had to tell herself when her mother looked back and met her gaze with a tight-lipped smile, one that left her unsure and more worried than ever. “Alethea, you need to be quick. Come with me.” The frozen girl tried to speak but found her mouth dry, only able to slowly lick her lips at her mother’s request and nod her head. Rania turned and lead them downstairs, pressing a finger to her lips to keep her quiet. They made their way into the basement and the first to walk in was her mother, who decided to not touch the light. Instead, let them walk down blindly. This place was so old that they had an underground tunnel built underneath, in case something happened. Alethea has always turned away from the room, and she could now see why that was from where they stood at the bottom of the stairs. The walls glowed in the dark, with hunter runes and wards protecting them from whatever attacked. “Mother, what is this place?” “A secret tunnel. Our family built it. You need to use this to get out of here. Just you.” “W-What!?” Alethea said, startled out of her stunned state, reaching out to grab her mother by the shoulder and turn her toward herself. “Ma, why would you say that? I can’t just abandon you!” Rania shook her head, and her lips pressed together in a grim line. “You have to, your brother, he’s still out there, and your father...” She turned away, her voice quivering near the end. “Those vampires knew he was coming, he didn’t make it.” It was like a cold bucket of ice fell over her head in an instant, and then someone pushed her into the fire. The sound of her breathing quickened, “...N-No...” “Yes,” Rania said, this time more firmly, moving up to the wooden floor and kneeling. Pulling the lock off and moving the door to the tunnel. “Go, if anyone. You should, we can’t let them win like this.” She tried to tell her little girl, moving from the floor to find them a flashlight and extra batteries in case the tunnel went on longer than her husband said. The sound of her breathing only seemed to quicken while her mother pulled out a duffel bag. This was always there in case of this, so she piled it with whatever was there for now. Alethea's heart pounded against her chest fast. Her chest rising too much for her to calm down, her eyes closed tightly. Shaking her head at her mother and turning to the wall, the sudden anger that filled her then made her clench both her hands at her sit. “Where is he?” The question was said with all the venom she could muster. Rania cast a knowing glance in her direction and turned back to the bag and zip it. “...Thea.. I-” “That f***ing bastard!” Alethea seethed suddenly, the volume of her voice going up instantly. Really, she should have been ashamed for coming to this conclusion, but from the way her mother didn’t bother to face her she knew it was right. Her blood boiled at the thought of seeing his face, her eyes narrowed slightly. “...And you want to wait for that traitor?” “He’s my son...” This made the angry sibling scoff and turn away from her again. Really, why did she bother to ask? She couldn’t ask her mother to throw away her love for her son, could she? Still. She couldn’t help but sneer at her mother for it while she wasn’t looking at her face. Then Alethea closed her eyes and took a shaky breath, her body trembling with such raw emotion. Neither of them said another word when the bag was lifted off the table. “...Thea, you should know that your brother might be turned.” Rania began, watching her turn slowly with a look of disinterest. She swallowed something stabbing her heart from the look she had for her only sibling. Of course, she couldn’t blame her for it. “Just be careful, should he come to you... Think about what you might have to do.” Alethea clicked her tongue and looked at the bag. Her hand gently taking it from her before she shouldered the bag. “...I know.” She eventually said, stepping down the ladder through the trapdoor. Her brown eyes looking up at her mother with a scowl. “Ma-” Her next words were cut off when something slammed into the door. Rania glanced at it and took a deep breath. Her face mirroring a look of determination before she looked back. “Go now, don’t look back.” “Ma, please!” She tried to say, but the door closed on her before she could go further. Oh god, why did he do this? Alethea lip trembled slightly, her angry swiftly changed. Her eyes slowly filling with tears, only to step back from the ladder when something heavy fell on it. The muffled screams left nothing for her to guess who it was... James... God James, how can you do something so unforgivable? How could anyone, family or human, do this to the person they care about? was hunting that important? She swallowed thickly. She couldn’t go there right now, but she knew it would be her job to hunt him down, eventually. There wasn’t any if or why she could bring up. She knew part of her would take pleasure in it. Eventually, she turned on her heel and pulled out her flashlight. Her finger turned the light on, and she made the long way back to the surface - wherever that was from this tunnel. Alethea never looked back to that night. Her guilt wouldn’t let her. She was an escapist at heart, after all.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘖𝘠™

04/10/2021 08:46 PM 

All New Superboy Info

Legal Name: N/AAlias: Superboy Age: "14"Sex: MaleHeight: 5'4Weight: 123lbsEyes: CyanHair: Jet blackPowers: Inhuman speed & flight are his only known powers for now.Residents: Las Vegas, NevadaBackground: A clone made by CADMUS under Lex Luthor's payroll. Though he was likely determined to be terminated when deemed unnecessary by Lex, Meredith - the scientist who had a hand in the clone's creation - helps Superboy escape the underground facility below the Lex Corp building via telepathy. He now resides with Dr. Meredith within Nevada.

Superboy, Original story


04/10/2021 08:49 PM 


  For the first time in what felt like forever, things were starting to look up for Mackenzie, so she’d decided that maybe it was time to upgrade her apartment for something a little bigger and nicer and maybe even closer to town. She’d been living on the outskirts of town ever since she’d arrived back in Hartsville almost eight months earlier and although her apartment was nice, it was a little too small for the red head’s liking, so after getting in touch with the real estate agent, she’d set up a meeting with Aubrey. She’d never actually met the woman before, but she had heard great things about her and was hoping that maybe she could help her find the house of her dreams; one that was a lot bigger than her current apartment and a home that she would be happy to grow old in!  After getting herself ready, she grabbed her purse to head out of her apartment so that she could go and meet the other woman; having arranged to meet her at one of the properties just outside of town. Wrapping her hand around the doorknob, she pulled it open though was greeted by her ex girlfriend, Avery. She wasn’t exactly sure what they were now - they weren’t together, but there were times that they didn’t exactly feel broken up either. Running her tongue along the inside of her mouth, she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and offered the blonde a small smile “Ave, what’s up?” Kenzie questioned, biting down on the corner of her mouth for a brief moment. “Stop that. You know I hate it when you do that.” Kenzie tried to play coy and act like she had no idea what Avery was talking about, but she knew it was the lip biting and that caused Kenzie to do it again, sucking her lower lip between her teeth as a small smirk tugged at her lips.  “You’re annoying,” Avery smirked, grabbing Kenzie’s arm and pulling her from the apartment. “But you’re ready, so let’s go. I have a surprise for you.” Kenzie knew that she should have declined or told the blonde that she was busy but this was Avery she was talking about. This was the girl that she was in love with and had been trying to win back ever since she’d arrived in town. “Okay, give me a second.” Avery nodded and let Kenzie’s arm go so the redhead could close and lock her door before quickly sending Aubrey a text to try and reschedule the appointment. She hoped that she wouldn’t mind and hated messing her around, but this was important - more important than finding her dream home, or at least as far as Kenzie was concerned. “Okay, I’m all yours. So where are we going?” she asked, shoving her phone into her pocket as she turned her attention to the other female and followed her down the stairs. “The Urban Garden. But I’m not telling you why. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Kid Omega

04/10/2021 08:01 PM 

Stark and Stormy

  [Cool Krakoa, Approximately 500km off the coast of Gotham]     Quentin awoke before the dawn. His sleep cycle is usually sporadic, he rarely kept to any schedule save his own, and that was the schedule he would be following today. There was work to be done, and given where he needed to go, it was best done during the daylight hours. Preprogrammed telekinetic routines he’d placed in his own mind set his coffee to brew the moment his synapses started firing on conscious levels. He took the time to yawn and stretch his arms, subtle cues of his mind pulling his desired wardrobe from the closet to follow him as he plotted towards his bookcase. This swung open upon his approach, revealing a small elevator which he boarded as his clothes folded themselves over his arm, and a coffee cup reached his hand.    “I don’t know why you bother with the bookcase door,” Roxy said, glimmering into existence in the elevator as Quentin sipped his coffee. He dropped his pressed dress pants onto the floor and stepped into them as they seemingly pulled themselves up and fastened themselves in place.  “Not like you usually have visitors or anything”   “Hidden doors are cool,” he said with a shrug, coffee mug hovering in the air as he pulled his shirt over his head, and slid his arms into his suit coat.   “And why are we stopping so far from the destination?”   “You saw the toxicity reports of the surrounding waters. I don’t want Krakoa or Jeff getting anywhere near the waters of that sh*t hole,” he said grabbing his coffee out the air and taking another sip “I’ve flown further in less time, and besides, I like flying. Good way to clear the head you know?”   The elevator dinged as they hit their destination. Quentin’s lab, buried deep beneath the surface of Krakoa. It was where he did all his serious work. Just like his personality, Quentin liked to keep the serious stuff out of site so people didn’t start thrusting expectations his way. He had his own agenda, his own goals, and this one had been a little while in the works.   “Well that at least makes sense, but I don’t get why you’d want to go to Gotham of all places. You always say it's just a, what do you call it? ‘A batsh*t town full of mentally deficient normies?’”   “Indeed I did, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing worth learning there” with that Quentin pressed a button on his watch and all the machinery started to flash into life. Reaching his work station, he picked up a small metal halo and placed it around his head. He’d never been able to work out a processor that moved as fast as his mind did, so he’d learned to cut out the problem entirely. The computers running off of his neural network solved two potential problems. The first being that the computers ran through the data stream as long as the vibranium neuro sockets held. The second being it was virtually impossible to hack seeing as someone would have to have telepathic capabilities near his own to even boot up the system.      He held his hands in the air, and a translucent, hot pink holographic screen appeared before his fingertips with a map of Gotham. At the top of it were three symbols, representing magic, psionic, and geothermal elements.   “See Gotham’s obviously a weird place right? You have magic nexuses, geothermal disturbances, and psychic mayhem all focused in on different, but nearby, parts of the downtown area.” As he spoke he moved the different icons to the areas of their highest known concentration points in the city. These formed a seemingly mathematically perfect triangle. The odds of which happening naturally were astronomically against.  “And at the center of all that you have… here”   Dragging fingers in opposite directions across the screen, he enlarged the view to the center of the triangle. A tower marked simply as ‘Club Zeus’ on the screen. Once a club owned by Maxie Zeus, Quentin had purchased the property after he’d done what most Gothamites seemed to do, gotten a god complex and got tossed in jail. He’d done so under the guise of turning it into a nightclub of sorts. Construction had occurred, but never really been completed. Most had given it up to Quentin’s capricious mind, but everything had its place.    “Ooooh, I thought you bought that place because you and Ba-”   “Up buh buh, what I tell you about bringing up stuff that happened when Haller was in my head?”   “But I thought that was pre..”   “Listen, when you get a DID telepath with thousands of personalities stuck in your brain, I promise I won’t bring up anything you did, huh? Besides, I got a free retcon, so why not use it huh?”   “Okaaay, so why the fancy suit?”   “Well I have to meet someone in the sewers, so I figured I may as well look fancy for the occasion. Besides I kind of want to fly under the radar a little on this one. Weirdos with off colored hair and suits are a dime a dozen in Gotham.” He said swiping the screen from view and heading back towards the elevator. Roxy looked puzzled for a moment, part of her processing subroutines, before realization hit her face indicating she’d found what she was searching for.   “Q… are you sure that’s safe? Like even for you, safe?”   Quentin simply offered her a knowing smile as the elevator doors started to close “Of course it's safe, it’s a  ‘stark and stormy Tuesday’”   [Part 2: Grim and Grisly]   [Somewhere over the open ocean, just outside of Gotham]   Hovering through the air on the invisible energies of his mind, he set the process to autopilot within his subconscious, locking down the destination to free his more active lobes for the task at hand. Data analysis, recent sightings, historical sightings, sewage tunnel layouts, potential current threats, potential past threats, all were taken into consideration. There were going to be enough unknowns to deal with in this scenario without letting a known factor slip by. His mind spiralling through each potential scenario in his mind over and over. Playing each out until he found a path to his goal. There was no other way when it came to such things. With his brain power, every detail could, and would, be accounted for.    “You’re about five minutes from drop point, dingleberry” came Roxy’s voice from his watch. He took a few milliseconds to roll his eyes before responding.   “Confirmed, here on out stay radio silent unless it's urgent,” he said pausing for a moment then adding ‘Jeff eating anything non-toxic is not urgent” another pause “Nor is any music or memes you come across in the meantime, bookmark for later”   “Aye, aye Cap’n Dork” was the confirmation he received on this occasion.    His feet touched down just outside the drainage pipe, dark liquid pouring steadily out from between the iron bars that covered the massive tube, wide enough to drive a semi into. It was as good a place as any to begin. He flicked his wrist towards the grating. There was a loud screeching noise as the grate tore off from its rusted welding and went careening into the sea with a loud splash. Barely looking up from his watch, and trying not to think of the smell, Quentin stepped inside.     It was only a few meters before he started to lose the daylight. Fingers moving against the touchscreen of his watch, two small drones flew from its casing, each illuminated a bright led light, and followed at either side of his head, illuminating the walkway before him with the soft hum of their nano fiber rotor blades. More button presses and a holographic projector from the device put an RPG style questing arrow on the cement before him, lighting the way to the most recent spotting of his quarry. He kept his senses sharp, his mind focused, easy to do in this environment. There was nothing so far other than the sound of the water steadily rushing past in a steady stream below him, and the horrible smell of the place. Neither were things he was particularly in the mood to think about at the time. If all went according to plan, it would be a straight shot from his quarry to the ultimate goal at the base of the former Maxie Zeus’ hideout he’d purchased with something like this in mind.    “So seriously, what are you trying to accomplish here?” came the sudden voice of Roxie over his watch. She was an AI he’d specifically designed with high levels of autonomy and personality. This made her annoyingly hard to predict at times. The end result in this case meant that the focused mutant actually jumped in surprise, nearly causing him to slip off the path and step into the unspeakable liquids below.   “F***ing hell, Rox, I told you radio silence!”   “Well doesn’t that watch have an earpiece for ‘communication with low brains that can’t handle telepathy?’”   “Well yeah, but that’s for team sh*t. You should just keep an eye on things back at home”   “I’m f***ing bored! I don’t need to sleep, I don’t need to eat, the f*** you want me to do? Talk to the living island with the mind of a 5th grader? Or the land shark that chews on driftwood for fun?”   Quentin grasped the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. His glasses bobbed up and down slightly as he rubbed at it. Something he found himself doing often when he was either annoyed, or involved in an argument he couldn’t when. Both were applicable on this occasion. There was little point in arguing with Roxy when it got in this mindset. It would just keep going, and wasting time, until it got what it wanted. He chalked it up to the fact that it was only a toddler as far as social interactions went. A well spoken, foul mouthed toddler, with a genius intellect, but still.    “Gah, fine! Hold on,” he said slipping an earpiece out of his pocket, and sliding it into his left ear. He fiddled with it to get it into a comfortable spot before tapping the button on it with his middle finger as he continued to walk. “There”   “Yay! So what are you doing in a smelly poop pipe anyways?”   “Well are you familiar with the nursery rhyme about Solomon Grundy?”   “Why would I be familiar with a kids nursery rhyme?”   “Fair point,” he said, pausing to carefully hope from the left walkway to the right, following the light trails down the right tunnel as the passage way forked. “So it was written in the mid 1800’s. Solomon Grundy, born on a Monday, Christened on a stark and stormy Tuesday, Married on a grey and grisly Wednesday, took ill on a mild and mellow Thursday, Grew worse on a bright and breezy Friday, Died on a grey and glorious Saturday, Buried on a baking blistering Sunday. That was the end of Solomon Grundy.”   “Man, old timey kids’ rhymes were f***ing weird. I mean what was the point of that?”   “Dunno, but.. Hold on..” Quentin said seeing a pair of green glowing goggles on a figure lurking in the shadows. Weird looking guy with a gasmask, a staff of some kind and a bunch of rats around him. “Hey, Rat boy! F*** off. Yeah you, take your stupid stick, and your weird rat friends and get the f*** out of here, business being attended to! F*** right the hell off with your gross rodents!”     The man’s grip around his staff tightened, but he did as he was told, turning to leave. Quentin’s ‘friendly suggestions’ often had a tinge of telepathy about them, whether he intended them or not. So some random homeless guy hanging out in a sewer didn’t really have much of a choice otherwise. Still Quentin paused in his walking to make sure the man was clearly on his way before continuing onward.    “The hell was that guys deal?”   “No clue, I told you Gotham was full of weird normies”   “Well you weren’t lying, that was bizarre”   “Yep, affects of living in a nexus of crazy energies I guess, I mean f***ing rats man”   “Yeah f***ing rats, so anyways, what’s a kids poem got to do with you being in a city sewer?”   “Oh yeah,” he said remembering his place as he continued walking down the sewer line, bots buzzing near his head. “So there was this guy around near the time the poem was like, the freshest thing out there, Cyrus Gold. He was either into some shady stuff and got murdered for it, or he was an innocent guy that got killed. Either way, they toss the dead guy in the swamps of old timey Gotham. But the thing is, this place was full of ambient magics, weird toxins, and latent psychic phenomenon even then, hell maybe more so.”   “Ok?”   Quentin paused again as he heard a rumbling coming from around the next turn. A double tap of his watch, and the light bots zipped back into their housings in the watch. Quentin peered around the corner and that’s where he saw it. The thing he’d come down here to track down. Part one of his ridiculous experiment.   “So the dude came back, again, and again, and again. Each time a little different, but always calling himself..     ..Solomon Grundy”  

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘖𝘠™

04/10/2021 07:34 PM 

All New Superboy! #1

Superboy #1 The Boy™   [ Mojave Desert, North of Las Vegas ]  Through the desert land that sits between California and Nevada, the kryptonian in jet black sprints through the barren stretch with dirt trailing behind, and no sign of exhaustion stopping him any time soon. No doubt the sweltering, hot sun’s embrace aids in keeping him energetic instead of dwindling in pace thanks to a certain half of his dna.  It was also thanks to his extraterrestrial half that he was able to zero in on the coordinates the mysterious voice provided faster than almost any other means of travel.  When his eyes spot a ravenette dressed in dark casual wear standing near a vehicle in the distance, he knows he’s finally reached his destination. Eventually, he desists his running and glides along the ground, skidding to a stop that leaves him three feet away from the woman. As the dust settles, the two take a moment to trade looks in silence, studying one another.  “Glad you were able to find your way to me with such ease. How are you feeling after traveling?” She, Meredith, finally ends the silence with a welcoming smile. Though, all she receives is a blank gaze in turn. “I only detect an increased heartbeat rate. Nothing besides that. I am unharmed and well.” He answers in a stoic manner. “I see. You exceed human capability in terms of movement and stamina, so I’d say it’s safe to assume you’ve successfully inherited more from the process.” She muses, a hand raising to her face, its respective thumb and point finger cradling her chin in thought. “Have you tried flying while making your way here?” A question that catches the boy off guard, evident by his eyes widening. His brows wrinkle as his eyes advert from hers, contemplating why he hadn’t tried - wondering if he’s even capable of such. “No… I didn’t think to try. Sprinting seemed efficient enough.” “Understandable. Still, why don’t you give it a try? Maybe you’ll surprise us both.” She suggests, and he heeds it. Tilting his head back to glare up at the great blue sky above, he bends his knees a few degrees and clenches his hands into fists. Then— He takes an abrupt impressive leap into the air, dispersing a gust of wind that somewhat startles the woman.  Like a torpedo, he ascends with no real clarity of what he hopes to do. He just keeps going and going until finally gravity nullifies the momentum of his jump, then begins pulling him back down. Much to his dismay. Upon looking down, a sense of panic strikes him. Like worms crawling underneath his skin, fear spreads and begins to cloud his judgment, though not entirely. “Fly… Fly! I can fly just like Superman. I can just like Superman.. I can fly just like SUPERMAN!” He cries out, hoping his body listens and picks up on the realization as he plummets without an ounce of control, flipping about like a rag doll in the wind. Just seconds later, Meredith spots him dropping out of control. Worry instantly fills her. “Superboy!” She exclaims, her hand extending and her eyes becoming consumed in pools of crimson. However, before she can do anything, the boy suddenly pauses in place about 50 feet above ground. Just as quickly as it came, her eyes revert back to normal.  Above, the child was breathing frantically through his nose, his eyes fixed upon the solid ground below. All it seemingly took was the desperate thought of wanting to halt in place — to just float in place.  “Y-you.. You did it, Superboy! Now, can you carefully bring yourself back down?” With the lady’s voice in his ears, his eyes shift toward her briefly then to any ideal place to land. First thing first, he straightens himself out. The youth begins advancing forward ever so slowly, but not descending. His body feeling like a foreign vehicle, more so than it already did to the artificial newborn.  “Hnnn…” His frustration was steadily growing. “Are you okay up there? Where are you going?” “I’m trying to land, but this is proving to be difficult… I’m not too sure how this works.” “Don’t worry, just take your time. I’ll meet you wherever you land.” She assures, which he finds comfort in knowing. In fact, it makes him that much more determined to get down. He spends about two minutes trying to navigate himself, only managing to stop in his tracks, ascend a bit, and descend a bit. When he notices somewhat of a pattern with his flight, he makes the decision to relax his entire body. That very moment of relaxing results in him dropping with the help of gravity again.  “Gu-aaaaaah!” The boy yells out mid drop, though finds his fall cushioned by something that snaps under him and tumbles over, sending him rolling a short distance on the ground. The sound of tires coming to a screeching halt draws his attention, and there’s the woman climbing out of her car and hurrying toward him. He begins pushing himself up to stand on his feet, swatting himself down to dust off his suit. “My goodness, are you okay? Are you in any pain?” “No. Something broke my fall, anyway. I’m completely fine.” “Glad you have invulnerability, because that something was a cactus.” She gestures toward the green plant lying on the ground nearby. “Huh. Didn’t feel a thing.” “Splendid. How about we head back to my home? I can help you develop a better understanding of your powers, as well as controlling them. Plus, you’d have a place to call home.”  “That would be beneficial… I accept your offer…” he trails off, squinting curiously when it dawns on him that he doesn’t know the woman’s name. “Meredith. Dr. Meredith, one of the handful responsible for giving you life.”    End.   The Adventure continues! Tune in for the next issue of ALL NEW SUPERBOY!

Superboy, Fanfic


04/10/2021 06:10 PM 

i'm human. i'm normal. // drabble.

Choir had never been Jacob's idea of a great time. Being surrounded by a bunch of kids whose parents taught them to be afraid of someone like Jacob, naturally, left Jacob feeling some what cast out among the other performers. He could feel the cold shoulders--the uncomfortable stares and the way kids were ushered away from him when practice was over. It was one of the many Hell on Earth scenerios Jacob wished he could yank himself out of, but alas...this is what 'normal' children did, and as his father expressed many times, Jacob NEEDED to be normal. His quiet nature and explosive temper had worn his parents thin and they were grasping at straws to put in an end to it, but Jacob gathered they were too stupid to realize it was just another place where Jacob could be miserable."I don't wanna go," Jacob expressed as his mother rummaged through his closet, attempting to find him a nicer shirt to change into."I know but tonight's kind of a big deal," she said as she turned around with a black sweater in hand. She handed it off to him, and he simply scowled. "We already bought the tickets, Jacob."Jacob's eyes rolled and he took the sweater from her hands. He had been to many of these special choir performances they would put on at the local community theater, but only as an audience member. And the thought of being an actual participant had him sick to his stomach. Instead of being simply surrounded by his peers that hated him, he was going to be aurrounded by an entire audience of judgemental eyes wondering why Jacob had been allowed to participate. He was about to protest more, but he could hear his father yelling outside his bedroom door at his brothers and sisters to get ready. He was in the kind of mood Jacob knew better than to mess with. "Fine," Jacob finally said, surrendering to his parents whims.The community theater was alive that night--Cherry Hill, Illinois was an extremely conservative, church-loving town that loved to gather round and celebrate just how church-loving they were. Of the performers, Jacob and his family were among some of the first to arrive. He noticed Mary, and her twin brother Michael were there. So was Olivia. That was the typical 'first to arrive' crowd, but one person was missing--Joshua Baker. He was typically the one to take on the most challenging harmonies, when he wasn't doing a solo by himself. That night he was supposed to be singing How Great Thou Art to blow away the crowd, but Jacob recalled his absence from school on Friday due to a flu. He must not have recovered. Pastor David, who had been talking to Olivia and her mom, strayed away and approached the Brooks family."So listen, I'm sure you noticed Joshua isn't here," Pastor David said. Jacob said nothing, but nodded his head. It was odd that Joshua would opt out of a solo performance, but he would have more in the future Jacob was sure. He was the choir's golden child, after all."Would you be willing to take his solo? I've heard you in practice, and I really think you'd do a good job." Pastor David was all smiles while Jacob quickly shook his head."No, I don't--" Jacob began, but quickly Eric cut him off by grabbing onto his shoulder and sliding in with a, "he'd love to," which had Jacob scowling once more at his father. But his grip tightened and Jacob knew what that meant. Be normal. Be normal. Be f***ing normal. Jacob turned to look at Pastor David and finally nodded, "Yeah...I'd love to," he agreed. After being made to thank Pastor David for the opportunity, or whatever, Jacob went backstage where the rest of the kids were starting to go as well.Jacob stood on his own, hands trembling as he glanced around at all the other kids coaching each other through their nerves. No one was there to coach him. Then, suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder and he jumped. Quickly he turned to see Pastor David standing behind him. He then breathed a sigh of relief while Pastor David laughed and apologized for startling him. He wished him luck and Jacob smiled at him but didn't offer him much else. The kids warmed up their voices backstage, and then Pastor David ushered them back to the wings, so they could be prepared for their call time. Jacob would be opening the show. He felt sick to his stomach--his head spinning as the lights went out and he was nudged on stage by Pastor David. On his way out, he bumped into the microphone stand, which he quickly latched onto to make sure it didn't fall over. At least now he knew where to stand.A single spotlight clicked on, and shined right into his eyes, causing him to squint. The applause that once filled the crowd had now stopped out of courtesy for the performer, and sudden the piano began playing. Jacob knew this song like the back of his hand--he only had to hear it at every single rehearsal. "Oh Lord, my God..." Jacob began, his voice cracking at first which caused him to clear his throat. He struggled through the first verse, but he began to notice that he had everyone's attention--everyone was silent. He resumed fumbling his way through the song, and began winning the crowd over slowly. The more impressive, or even slightly different a note he hit, the more engaged they became. Some cheered on the better notes, and with each clap he earned, he couldn't help but smile.See, I'm human...I'm normal...He thought to himself as the song ended and the crowd cheered him on. That typical glare he wore had been replaced with a frazzled but grateful smile as he placed the microphone back on the stand and he waved to the crowd. Finally...they saw he was human.

one to be desired.

04/10/2021 04:43 PM 

EXPLANATION on Xanthippi's Abilities and little snippet of stuff.

This face claim is perfect fit and has been for so long that I've used her because she changes looks so often; hair, eye colors, and all that. From always, beeing on the run she needed to have her identity hidden away from those looking for her - - basically, she has been on the run from the Gyfytoi/Romani/Gypsies because of her gift; she was an empath, but much more than that. Besides the overall basis of an empath - - sensing and able to feel emotion of anyother persons, waves of their auras that at times overflood her with grief, excitement, anger, etc.Took her to adjust and still does because these set of strong emotions can take a HUGE toll on her.But, besides being an empath she has a gift of being able to emotionally heal another.If you're familiar with the Angel series, and I'm a huge huge fan of Cordelia Chase  . . like SQUEE! Anyways, how she was able to just a tad bit emotionally heal Connor (Angel's son)! No? Just me then!  Well then, Xanthippi along with an emotional bond with another can emotionally link herself to feel their trauma and heal another's soul from all their turmoil they have gone through. Hatred? She can easily flush that out as a protection also to herself.For if she was to get attacked by another a light of protection over comes her body as a shield in not being able to get killed or captured just as easily. Her skills as a dancer had helped her to easily establish the basics of martial arts, but she can be over powered easily - - which the aura of protection that comes to life when she is to get attacked comes in hand for her.And this why I have also listed as 'one to be desired' because /she/ is literally desired for her gift - - you fiends! Ninety percent of you thinking it's something lewd! Shoo!That's it for now!xo.


04/10/2021 08:56 PM 

Owes List

I Owe YouStarter: N/AReply: N/AYou Owe MeStarter: Mallory (MalleyCat) 4/11/21; Reply: Mariah 4/11/21;We are discussing:FlynnFixed: 4/11

'The Wily Fox'

04/10/2021 07:53 PM 

A bad moon rising-

A Golem is a creature formed out of a lifeless substance such as dust or earth that is brought to life by ritual incantations to serve the bidding of its creator...The creator is even more dangerous!-------------------Kol should have expected as much! Marcel wouldn't give a flying f u c k i n g toss about what was going down in the 1st Cemetery, not if it didn't benefit him in some way or other.---------------------"First of all, why is it that every time witches something's going on with the witches the finger is pointed at me? I have no need for their magic. Also, bold of you to assume I give a damn. If something's happened you're looking in the wrong place, my friend. Why don't you go ask your brothers? I'm sure Klaus and Elijah know a hell of a lot more about it than I do....wait wait wait in fact, go see Freya she's always happy to sacrifice a witch or two. For the greater good of course"   He didn't even care if the Witches were the only way that they had even the most remote possible way of bringing Davina back!    "You know what Marcel... You're a bloody pratt! And I was right! You never deserved the Mikaelson name!"Kol spat back at him."Those people are the only ones who stand a chance of bringing Davina back for us! .... And you'd rather sit here on you're   s h i t pile of a self declared royal f u c k i n g throne, thinking you're above everyone else and saying it doesn't concern you! You know what...  You never deserved Davina's loyalty or trust in the first place! And if she could see you now... She'd be disappointed in you She'd never forgive you for this!"  Anger, frustration, grief, desperation...They were all overwhelming feelings. And Kol knew that if Nic had had to describe them upon a canvas, they'd have been dark and overpowering of any other thought, feeling, or colour. They'd of been exactly like the Golem in the 1st Cemetery! They'd of had the ability to draw the life from every other colour in the painting and slowly consume them all! The work of art would have looked no more than a stained canvas of muddy brown and shadow! Angrily he picked up a chair and tossed it with force at Marcel's head. He wanted to rip his heart out. Right there and then! But every moment he wasting... Another Witches life was in jeopardy... It meant there was one less Witch left in New Orleans, that could help him find a way to bring Davina back!Kol didn't wait to see if the chair had hit its mark, he was already halfway down the stairs and out the door by the time he heard the telltale sounds of metal and wood splintering and rattling as it bounced off the brick walls and scattered all over the warehouse's floor.The trip back to New Orleans seemed to take forever! He'd lost count of the times he'd tried to phone, Nic, Rebekah and Elijah. And Freya wasn't answering her phone either! It didn't bode well! Nothing did this night! And it didn't take a genius to figure out that all of it... All of it was linked to what Kol had witnessed in the 1st Cemetery. And he knew, that if there was any chance to stop it... he had no choice. He'd have to go back there. Even if it meant facing it alone!  -------------------------    N Rampart Street was all but deserted by the time he got back there. And across the road, 1st Cemetery lay still and silent. If the Golem was still there... it had gone silent. As he reached to unlock the Cemetry's gate, Kol paused and took a deep breath... if the Golem wasn't here,  where would it have gone? Who would it be after next? New Orleans had always been a magnet to the supernatural, it made it an almost impossible task to figure it all out. There was nothing for it.  He'd have to hope that the Cemetery would in some way, hold the clues. Who was controlling the creature...and where would they go next! Exhaling he pushed open the gate and cringed as its rusted barrel hinges let out a shrill groan of protest. If anyone was in a hundred meters radius, he'd of alerted them, right there and then to his presence! Cautiously, Kol made his way into the silent Cemetry...The paths that had once been kept pristinely clean by the Witches of New Orleans now lay scattered in dirt and debris... It wasn't hard to pinpoint where the destruction had started... All he'd had to do was follow the path left by the creature. A trail of all but destroyed mausoleum's that lead deep into the Cemetry's centre. It looked like a bomb had gone off! All around him the mausoleum's lay in rubble, bricks and mortar mixed with the protruding bones of Witches long past.... and the dust.. it still clung heavily in the air. But one mausoleum stod alone, barely untouched within the epicentre of the chaos. The only seeable damage was a gaping hole in its faceplate!  Trepidly Kol made his way over.  It was old, older than most of the other tombs in the graveyard. The bricks and mortar had been eroded by time, the name above its faceplate barely distinguishable ... Cautiously he leaned forward to look inside.  It was empty. There wasn't even a couple of scattered chunks from the faceplate inside, and there would have been if the damage had been done in the battle that had taken place only an hour or so ago within the cemetery...Frowning he reached, to wipe the name upon the mausoleum clean. Marie Laveau! She was the first know Witch of New Orleans, the first that the general population of New Orleans knew about, anyway.Kol frowned. Why would anyone want to take her bones... There was only one real reason he could think of, and it didn't bode well. If it was what he was thinking... Someone had done magic they shouldn't have! Someone had woken the Ancestral  Witch...Someone had pissed her enough that she had latched hold of the magic they had been creating and had found a way to inhibit their body; pretty much like Ester had done when she'd found a way back before. Pretty much how she'd placed Finn and himself in the bodies of other Witches to help her do her bidding. And her bones.. well she or the Gollum had obviously taken them. In a bid to keep them safe in a bid to try to ensure they couldn't be used later at some time against her.Behind him Kol heard the soft crunch of a footstep upon the rubble, he wasn't alone and he wasn't about to take the chance that whoever it was, was a friend! If Marie Laveau had really found a way to rise from the grave, it wasn't just the Witches of New Orleans that were in trouble!  She'd use them all to consume their power and life forces with one single purpose in eradicate all of the other supernatural denominations in New Orleans! And claim back the city, the land the stomping ground, that was known as her own!But where had she got the power? Who the bloody hell was she channelling to obtain enough power not only to create the golem to obtain more... but to control the Witch..the vessel she was using, to conduct her bidding...Before the Witch behind him had a chance to raise her hand and cast a great deal of pain upon him, Kol was behind her. His left hand firmly grasped around her neck... In one simultaneous move, he snapped her pretty little neck whilst his right hand ripped out her beating heart.  Overkill.. maybe, he just wasn't about to take any chances...But as the sudden pain twisted ripping up through his eyes in an explosion within his brain, he knew it was too late. The Witch had been used as bait. A single moment that was needed to immobilise him by another!Crying out in pain Kol released the dead Witches body and heart from his grasp, raising his hand to grip his own head instead and crumbled; falling to his knees as the witches body landed upon the ground before him.Everything inside his head screamed in agony as the pressure continued to build and build. It felt as if his brain was turning to mush...that at any moment, his head would explode like a bullet ripping through a pane of glass... He could barely see, he could barely move... he'd been left defenceless by the small party of Witches who had come to gather before him...And as his sight came and went in spasms of pain, while his vampire side waged war trying to heal the continuous onslaught of aneurysms cast by their spell... He could only make out one face clearly..."I knew it was only a matter of time before you'd return..."She smiled as she stepped forward, from the other Witches around her."I needed the most powerful Witch I could find in New Orleans, and with your family always messing with the laws of nature, it didn't take me long to have Freya in my grasp. After that, it was easy, It seems your families trust in their older sister is impeccable! One by one, I lured your little sister and your brothers away, immobilising them to syphon their power! And now I have you too!... "  Freya's face smiled down upon his as she continued ..."There is nothing to stop me from coming back for good! From having the power to eradicate all the Vampires and Werewolves within MY city in one delicious snap of my fingers!!"...    


04/10/2021 04:24 PM 


Full Birth Name: Princess Andrea Eleanor BjorgmanDate of Birth: The day of the summer solstice which is an event that occurs on June 21stPhysical | Birth Age: 17 years old | seventeen years oldPlace of Birth: Arendelle Castle, Arendelle, NorwaySpecies: Human blessed with the elemental spirit of fireHair: She inherited her mother's fiery red hairEyes: She inherited her mother's turquoise blue eyesEducation: Homeschooled by governess, Storybrooke PrepOccupation: Student at Storybrooke Prep, Princess of Arendelle, Volunteer at Storybrooke Pet ShelterAbilities: Fire manipulationFamily: King Olaf of Arendelle (maternal great-great-grandfather), Queen Astrid of Arendelle (maternal great-great-grandmother), King Magnus of Arendelle (maternal great-great-grandfather), Queen Iduna of Arendelle (maternal great-great-grandmother), King Harald of Arendelle (maternal great-grandfather), Queen Sonja of Arendelle (maternal-great-grandmother), Cliff (paternal adoptive grandfather), Bulda (paternal adoptive grandmother), King Agnarr of Arendelle (maternal grandfather), Queen Gerda of Arendelle (maternal grandmother), Robert Nolan (step-grandfather), Ruth Nolan (step-grandmother), Prince James (step-grand-uncle), Princess Ingrid of Arendelle (grand-aunt), Princess Helga of Arendelle (grand-aunt), Kristoff Bjorgman (father), Queen Anna of Arendelle (mother), David Nolan (step-father), Kristoper Bjorgman (twin brother), Baylee Nolan (half-sister), Emma Swan (step-sister), Neal Nolan (step-brother), Joshua Nolan (great-nephew), Henry Mills (step-nephew), Lucy Mills, (great-niece), Skyler Swan-Jones (step-niece), Hope Swan-Jones (step-niece), Rachel Nolan (step-sister), Scarlett Nolan (step-sister), Charlie Lucas-Nolan (step-sister), Sienna Mills-Nolan (step-sister), Queen Elsa of the Enchanted Forest (aunt)

𝓖𝓮𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓲 𝓓𝓲𝓿𝓪

04/10/2021 01:08 AM 

The Winds of Change

  The music seemed to run through her very soul. It was a tune that reached down into her heart and pulled it at like nothing else could. Tiny steps of a six year old Lizzie Saltzman moved in front of one another. The little girl who knew she wasn’t exactly normal moved down this long hallway. The music was the sound of a woman singing. She was singing in a language that Lizzie didn’t recognize. As the little girl continued, she felt her bare feet move from carpeted ground to the hard ground of the outside. The scene changed around her. They weren’t home. Lizzie wasn’t sure where they were.The sound of the ocean was everywhere. Lizzie looked from the left to the right. The waves were crashing against the rocks below where she stood. The woman who was singing in that strange language was sitting on some higher rocks. The woman had beautiful long blonde hair. She kept facing the ocean ahead with her sad song that was starting to make the little girl cry. Lizzie kept moving. The sound was calling her. The little girl couldn’t stop. The sad song kept pulling at her. The little girl was crying so much she was starting to sob. Her body was shaking when she reached the woman sitting there. Lizzie had no idea why she was crying. Before she could say anything to the strange sad woman, the woman turned around to look at her.What little Lizzie saw was herself. She screamed as loud as she could when the sad singing woman reached for the little girl. She started to run away. She kept calling for her mother. “MOMMY! HELP ME! MOMMY! PLEASE!” She kept running with her bare feet clapping against the ground. “MOMMY! Where are you?”######Lizzie Saltzman sat straight up in her bed in the Salvatore School. The room that Uncle Stefan had remodeled just for her and Josie before he married their mom was now more alone than it ever was. Josie had stashed her magic and was trying to live life as a normal teenager in Mystic Falls. She was even going to school at Mystic Falls High School. MG had followed Josie and was going to Mystic Falls High. Her mom was off in Europe doing whatever it was that she was doing. Her dad was always busy with the school on his shoulders. They had tried to get him out of the school and off into his own life, but that didn’t work out so well. Hope Mikaelson was the last person that Lizzie wanted to go to for any sort of help.Lizzie climbed out of her bed and made her way to the mirror. She looked awful. Her gorgeous platinum blonde hair was all tangled and dishelved in about six different directions. The remnants of her bangs were sticking to her forehead in the mass of unattractive tangles. “UGH!” She grunted at the mirror. Touching the wall next to her dressing table, she siphoned just enough magic just to make her hair look more like what it should be. Satisfied in her appearance, she dropped her shoulders. Lizzie was alone. She didn’t like being alone. She decided she wasn’t going to be alone.Every time she closed her eyes, she kept having these dreams that had her waking up screaming. She was always alone. No one was there. After having Josie from the beginning, the idea of being alone really frightened her. She was going to have to get used to it. Her logical side tried to rationalize the idea of her being alone. Even the idea of the school “friends” she had weren’t going to last forever. She had her own experience with her mom, her Aunts Elena and Bonnie to look at for an example. Friends grew apart and distances were profound. Lizzie didn’t like being alone. She hated it.Her footsteps took her directly into the kitchen. The slightest sound came from the vicinity of the refrigerator. Lizzie looked downward to see a small pair of feet behind the massive door. “Pedro?” Lizzie asked.Hearing the sound of his name, the Salvatore School’s littlest witch dropped everything in his hands. Pedro didn’t move. Lizzie Saltzman just caught him. He had a mouth full of chocolate chip cookies. “Lizzie! Um. HI.”Lizzie closed the refrigerator door to see the little witch with as much an innocent look that he could muster. “Oh Pedro.” He looked like a mess. “You’re going to choke. Try not to stuff those all in your face at one time. Okay?” She picked him up and sat him on a stool. Lizzie moved around to get him a napkin. “Smaller bites.”Pedro looked at her with those huge chocolate eyes. “Yyou aren’t going to tell your dad are you?” He mustered up a tiny little innocent child voice to go along with those eyes.Lizzie shook her head and laughed. “No. Of course I won’t. All you gotta do is share with me.” She winked at him. “Got anymore of those cookies left or did you eat them all?” Pedro was a lot of things but completely innocent was not one of them. MG and Kaleb considered him a junior member of the SuperSquad. That took a lot of guts for the little witch to be a part of that little nerd brigade.Pedro pointed to the refrigerator. “Bottom shelf in the back. You’re kinda tall, so you might not be able to see it. I think Dr. Saltzman was trying to hide them.” Pedro added with a sly grin. “Can I have some Milk Lizzie?”Was she really going to do this? Yes, she was going to do this. She poured herself and Pedro both a big glass of milk. She rejoined Pedro with a plate of cookies and two big glasses of milk. As she continued to sit there with Pedro she had no idea that the sun was starting to come up over the horizon. She kept talking with Pedro and just enjoying the peace of the moment. To the troubled mind of the Gemini Siphon, she imagined that moments like these were going to last too much longer. Cookies and milk were timeless. So what if anyone saw her with Pedro like this? If Jo and MG could make their lives outside the Salvatore School, maybe it was time that Lizzie did too.  Gemini Diva / 1694840

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