#(hi izzy. hi scout.)

[morrigan-sims]

🔥Cyra🔥

fire genasi / barbarian (path of the storm herald) / she/they

[remember-digimon]

Who the Adventure Kids would cosplay as

Tai: Spike Spiegel from Cowboy Bebop. He has the hair, he just needs a cool suit and a Nerf gun. He gets in trouble for shooting Nerf darts at people

Sora: Yuna from ffx2, but she would wear leggings underneath the short-shorts and half-skirt.

Matt: Sanji from One Piece. He would steal one of his dad's cigarettes to be as authentic as possible, only for it to be confiscated at the con entry

Izzy: DOOM. Like literally. This is in reference to how anything can run DOOM so he finds a way to. just. Be DOOM itself 😅

Joe: Gandalf from LOTR, because I hc that Joe is a big LOTR fan and is one of those fans that knows Everything about the books. Like Steven Colbert level

Mimi: Sailor Moon. Duh. She tries to get everyone else, even the boys especially the boys to dress as the other Sailor Scouts but they weren't into it lol

TK: does a couple-costume with Kari. He goes as Link from Legend of Zelda. He has to be warned multiple times not to hit people with his foam sword

Kari: Princess Zelda. She's the only one who actually goes for broke and has a wig, plus the ears and color contacts. She is in character the whole time. This is serious business.

Davis: an anachronism, but Reki Kyan from Sk8 The Infinity. I know for a FACT that Davis loves that anime he told me himself

Yolei: the only one that went along with Mimi; she's going as Sailor Mars. She had to borrow a pair of pumps from Mimi and has a terrible time walking in them. She changes into birks like an hour into the con

Cody: Cody is either going as himself in a Pikachu hoodie or he's going all out as a cardboard box Gundam

Ken: since his childhood was taken up by trauma and then being an Evil Genius, Ken doesn't have as much pop culture knowledge as the others. Davis helps him out by suggesting Sasuke from Naruto. He means it almost as a joke but when Ken gets excited about it Davis is like 'oooh yeah? Bet' and Ken ends up winning the cosplay contest

[alexanderlightweight]

Mermay still :) how about a fic where Alec is a orca mer and Magnus is a megaladon? In this au, your "size" is determined by what species you are, so a dolphin mer would be about the size of an average human, whereas orca would be twice the size of a dolphin mer. Which means Alec, who is used to being on of the biggest mer around, is suddenly DWARFED by Magnus.

For plot, I was thinking maybe Alec's pod had set up in a new territory, only to find out Magnus had territory nearby. They are obviously afraid of him for being a muc bigger and deadlier predator than them, Magnus isn't super thrilled with the pod being nearby. Until one day when he's near the borders of there territory terrorizing them with his presence, he meets Alec, who was patrolling today and decided to go ask Magnus if he needed something because Magnus sets off allll his prey instincts and he's both not used to that, and kind of into it and it freaks him out.

every single week you do this to me. i also got requests to add more to your last prompt (which i'm getting to but like, i have to do some research first). not that i'm complaining, to be clear. i am wallowing, not complaining.

did i obsessively write this while making breakfast because @saeths got super excited about it? yes lol

ily babe

lumine

-

Alec stares with cold disdain at the dolphin mer who tried and failed to woo him. As much as his parents resent his refusal to take a mate, they also can’t push the issue. Alec is the only reason they were able to move their pod when mundane expansion and pollution intruded too far into their past territories.

That doesn’t mean, sadly, that they stop encouraging others to pursue him.

Most of the pod are dolphins and narwhals and while many have powerful tails and fins and some even know how to use their horns, they’re small. Which means that Alec is the only one of the pod who can take on their larger enemies. Those whose blood mingles more with squid and octopus.

Alec is exhausted from the long journey of finding a new territory and he’s only barely allowed himself to finally rest

“Alec—” Izzy says, and her voice is soft with fear, as if she’s afraid the current will take her voice to a predator. He’s never seen her so frightened.

“What is it?” He asks, trying to work his gills faster so he can wake up more quickly. “Did the scouting parties find something?”

“Our scouts made a mistake—” her lower lip trembles and a pearl slides down her cheek. “Alec we’re not in his territory, but we’re so close. He hasn’t done anything, but we can’t move again so soon Alec, the clave doesn’t know what to do.”

“Izzy you’re not making sense.”

“He’s a megalodon mer, Alec. He’s at least twice as big as you.”

Alec swallows, because he’s the biggest in his pod by a lot. The only way other mer can take him is if they swarm him and even that is hard with how powerful his tail is.

Alec shudders at the thought of an enemy even bigger than himself, because he’s never seen or met one.

“I’ll go.” Alec offers and then swallows hard at the gleam in Aline and Helen’s eyes. He’s never been sent to offer a tribute before except as a guard and it will be odd, being the one dressed to impress.

—

Magnus knows exactly what kind of mer has taken off the small open territory that Magnus has never bothered to claim. It’s an almost neutral route that is often taken by those he doesn’t care to waste time on.

However, the fact that he’s left it open doesn’t mean he’ll allow just anyone to live so close to him. Especially not when they’re annoying, chirpy little dolphin and dancing narwhals who flinch at his shadow and scream at his teeth.

The water reeks of fear and it’s feeding Magnus’ hunger, making it grow quickly until he’s ravenous and hunting only two days after he last feed.

He gluts himself on fish and small whales and then moves to where a small current will help him clean his hair and nails of the worst of the gore.

If it happens to also be on the border of the new pod’s territory and his own, where they can see him dipping his fingers casually into a current that could rip off any of their own limbs and lets the scent of blood fill the water.

Well, it’s still Magnus’ home.

If they’re intimidated, they can leave.

That’s his opinion for the first two days at least, until he finds a very clear tribute post near to his border and the pods but without actually crossing into his own. It shows a healthy dose of wariness and fear, though it’s a bit disappointing. Magnus thought he might actually get a fight or two before they submitted to his rule.

He leaves an agreement, takes the meager offering and then crushes it, leaving the remains behind.

If they think Magnus is like any great white, easy to please with a little bit of groveling another nothing of impressive value, then he’ll send them back to wherever they fled.

—

“You don’t remember what sharks like as tributes?” Alec asks dryly, ready to slap Imogen into the cave wall and Jia gives him a nervous look.

“We grew lax—” Jia admits slowly, which is as good as acknowledging they just started relying on Alec as soon as he outgrew the rest of his pod.

“So, then I’ll wear what you want but I’ll pick what to take.” Alec retorts, because he’s not taking a megalodon twice his size sea grapes.

There are murmurs from the elders and Alec snorts, because the clave can either do it his way or they can try it out on their own and honestly, they’re all to scared to.

Alec isn’t taking kelp baskets or anything else to a treaty with a predator.

Instead, once he’s dressed, he takes a moment to see how he moves with all the decorations and accessories they put him in and then, when he’s used to it, he hunts.

It takes time and strategy to get the most impressive squid he can, rather than just the easiest. Alec can’t afford to offer insult instead of respect.

He gets the squid wrapped up in kelp to make it easier to transport and then sets out with it trailing behind him. He gets as close as he dares to without permission and then lingers on the edge of a current that would batter him but break others of his pod.

Alec doesn’t want any interruptions or pod members spying on such an important meeting, especially if the presence of others could set off such an intense predator.

—

Magnus scents freshly killed, delicious squid and he swims towards the scent. It’s too close to his territory line to be anything other than a gift, a taunt, or a very deadly mistake.

It’s a gift.

Magnus has never seen a mer dressed so prettily that wasn’t some kind of tribute. He’s also only seen a few orca mer and never any as big as the one drifting on the lines of the territory.

He has a squid nearly as big as he is and it’s tied with kelp, clearly an additional offering that he’s hunted himself.

“Oh—” Magnus croons, sharp teeth gnashing at the taste of awe and the scent of a predator recognizing another as he gets closer. “Where were they hiding you?”

The mer bristles, not surprised by his presence but there is something proud in the gleam of his eyes, “I wasn’t hiding.” His eyes are dark and watchful but as Magnus circles him, his tail sways with clear discomfort as he takes in the clear difference in their sizes.

Magnus’ little mer is used to being the biggest in a territory, that much is clear, and Magnus is sure the little orca has taken down many lesser sharks with ease.

“Oh no, of course not.” Magnus soothes and he moves his tail in an idle slap to the water behind him, smirking as the ripples he creates rock his little visitor. “You wouldn’t hide, not from me. The others though, they kept you away. I haven’t seen you and I’ve been watching.”

“I don’t like a lot of noise.” Is said quietly, “I sleep on the far side, in the deep caves. It’s further away from any territory lines and also our least defensible. It made sense that I’d rest there, keep alert.”

Which is perfect, because Magnus also dislikes the tedium and noise of mer pods.

“And you needed rest for so long?” Magnus asks, circling again and watching hungrily as the mer’s gills flutter.

“We uh, hit a jellyfish field when we got close.”

—

Magnus knows exactly what he’s talking about and he makes a deep, clicking noise that normally makes prey go still but has his mer swaying towards him. It’s easy for Magnus, but for regular mer, the field is a horror and tragedy waiting to happen. It’s more shocking that so many survived and are uninjured than anything else and Magnus realizes it’s because his tribute took the brunt of it.

Magnus gets closer, inspecting the skin under the layers of delicately woven pearls and shiny decorations. There are small, angry lines of silver across his mer’s skin and Magnus presses fingers to the nearest ones, earning himself a hitched breath.

“Your name?” Magnus asks, because he’s too impatient to wait any longer.

“Alec, Alexander by the old tongue.”

“Magnus Bane.” Because even though mer do not have pod names like humans, and Magnus has no pod, he is still renown.

He has a name because he has become a bane to all who cross him.

“Alexander,” Magnus says, and he reaches out to grip Alexander’s neck, just below his gills, so that his thumb teasingly caresses the sensitive membranes. It’s an incredibly intimate gesture and Alexander whines and goes still, staring at Magnus in shock.

“I accept the tribute.” Magnus tells him, “and in return for such an impressive mate, I will allow your former pod to remain. I will even

“Wha-?” Alexander starts to ask and then he nods, eyes wide and gills kissing the tip of Magnus’ thumb.

Magnus moves slowly, pressing his tail up against Alexander’s sleek, smooth one and Alexander goes instinctively still. Magnus skin is smooth against him, so long as he doesn’t try to move away.

“You’re worth far more than a small feeding ground, aren’t you Alexander?” Magnus has killed tributes trying to offer themselves to him before, but Alexander is the only one who has ever caught his eye.

—

Alec has a moment where he almost explains, and then he decides it really doesn’t matter.

Even if Magnus were willing to forgive the misunderstanding, he’s not going to be willing to let Alec’s pod stay without something of equal worth and now that Alec knows how much value Magnus sees in him, he finds he doesn’t really care.

Alec’s body is covered in scars and while he likes fighting, he’s tired of it being for the survival of other people. Especially when half the mer in his pod do stupid things, convinced of their own hubris because they expect Alec to come save them.

Magnus is three times his size, not the two Izzy predicted, and his hands could cover the entirety of Alec’s gills, but he’s being gentle in a way the pod stopped being long ago. For all that they covet Alec’s size and skills, even those in his family unit stopped being soft, as if Alec is always a weapon and protection both.

Magnus is treating him like he’s delicate kelp, like he’s something fierce and incredible but still precious and it makes Alec warmer than the sun on the surface ever has.

“Magnus—” he murmurs because words are lost to him and it’s all he can think of to say.

The massive, heavy tail against his own presses closer and Alec shifts, shivering when he can feel the promising bite of Magnus’ tail against his own. The scales of Magnus’ tail are larger than any shark he’s fought and if he moves wrong, he’ll be shredded.

Magnus merely chuckles and pulls him closer, so that the scales are smooth against him once more.

“As long as you stay close, you’ll be fine.” Magnus tells him, the hand not holding Alec’s throat and gills wrapping around his waist. Fingers play where his body melds from torso to tail and Alec gasps out a stream of bubbles at how intimate such a simple gesture can be.

[londonspirit]

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: Let's start with Izzy's death. Did you always plan to kill Izzy off this season?

DAVID JENKINS: Yes. It feels like the logical end of Izzy's arc. It's heartbreaking to me because he's my favorite. They're all my favorite because they're all my kids, but Izzy is very near and dear to my heart. The season was kind of built around [the idea of]: What's the best journey we can give him? And what's the most interesting thing we can do with Con, who can do just about anything?

How did Con react when you laid out Izzy's storyline this season?

I told him in the middle of shooting because I didn't want him to find out at the table read, obviously. I also didn't want it to leak. He was lovely about it. I called him and said, "Let's get a bite to eat," and he said, "I'll need cake!" We had dinner, and I gave him a cuddle, and he took it pretty well.

A lot of these characters have evolved over two seasons, but it seems like Izzy has gone through one of the biggest evolutions. He went from being so dismissive of the others to being a key part of the crew. What interested you most about his arc?

You know, I didn't expect him to become kind of a father figure to Ed. I think we hit on that while we were breaking the [final] episode. He's in such a weird position: He's like a jilted lover, and then he's a middle manager who has to work for a terrible boss. He gets thrown away, and then he comes back. He really develops, and he becomes a part of this family. I think the biggest surprise was the extent that he was a mentor to Ed. They were both Blackbeard. They both made Blackbeard happen.

What do you remember most about filming Izzy's death scene?

That was one of the last things we shot. As we got closer and closer to it, I could see it weighing on Con. It's hard: This is something we both made together, and his character is gonna die. He was taking it really seriously. Then, when we were shooting, I made him a playlist. I asked if I could play him some music, and I did, and we sat there and we watched Izzy die.

I also wanted to ask about the scene where Ed and Stede reunite on the beach, fighting their way back to each other through hordes of soldiers. How did you want to approach that sequence?

We have a wonderful fight and stunt coordinator, Jacob Tomuri, and [director] Fernando Frias laid out how he wanted to shoot it with [cinematographer] Mike Berlucchi. With this show, we're basically making a one-hour show on a half-hour budget and schedule, so we really have to pick our shots. But the location was just unreal. Everything in New Zealand just looks amazing. We were driving to a different location to scout the lake where Blackbeard tries to be a fisherman, and it was like, "What is this?" It was this giant black sand dune that seems to go on for miles. We were like, "Oh, we have to do something here."

The episode ultimately ends with a happy ending for Ed and Stede: They're starting an inn together on land as their friends sail off to new adventures. Walk me through why you wanted to give these two a happy ending.

With this season starting so dark, I kind of wanted to reward them for the work that they've done and the character growth that they've had. I wanted to leave them in a place where they're really going to try and make this work. I don't think it's going to be easy for them, necessarily. They're both still immature. But after the death of Izzy, we have a wedding, and it feels like we have the kids taking the car, driving off while the parents watch from the porch. It felt right to give them something to balance the loss of Izzy, where neither of them is going to run. They're both saying they're going to commit to each other, and it felt like the best place to leave them this season.

That makes sense. So much of their story has been about running away: Stede running away from his family, them running away from each other. This is them deciding not to run away.

And I don't think it's going to be easy. I think the day after that scene would be very hard. But they can try.

You mentioned the wedding between Lucius and Black Pete. I know that pirate weddings and civil partnerships were a real thing from history. Why did you want to end on that moment?

We knew we wanted a matelotage in the second season, and pretty quickly we landed on Lucius and Black Pete. It seems like they were ready for that. We made up a ceremony and everything, where they call each other mateys, and it was just fun to make our own version of a pirate wedding ceremony. But they really did have this phrase "matelotage." It was a formal process for relationships between crew members. It just seemed very sweet to see that they wanted to take that step together.

Last season ended on a cliffhanger, but this season ends pretty neatly, tying up a lot of loose threads. This could work as a series finale. Do you know if the show is getting a season 3, and are you already thinking about where this story could go next?

I mean, we'll see. We'll see if it makes sense for them to make a third one. We have a lot of ideas for a third season, and there's a lot more story to tell. But if it's not in the cards, I just wanted to leave Ed and Blackbeard in a good place. Instead of seeing them get punished for following each other, I wanted to see a moment where they're alright. And it is just a moment: I think a relationship is going to take a lot of work for them.

But it felt like a good place to end the second season. It felt like a contrast to the first season. If it turns out we don't make any more, I'm comfortable with that being a resting place.

You're leaving the door open for more — but if this the end, you're okay with that.

I mean, the Revenge is now being captained by Frenchie, and I think Frenchie's Revenge would be an interesting place to work and an interesting ship to be boarded by. And Ed and Stede, they're in the early 30s part of their relationship. Emotionally, they're going to move in together and start a business. I think there's a whole other story to tell about what happens when that relationship gets more mature. How do you make that relationship work? It's not just happily ever after. You have to work at it. And that's a story I'd like to see.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

[our-death-means-flag]

Above the Clouds and the Atmosphere

Ship: Izzy Hands x Reader

Notes: Wing AU, Izzy hasn’t been able to fly in decades. It doesn’t bother him. (It does.) Reader is the first person he’s met with wings strong enough to carry someone and fly. Not that it matters, Izzy doesn’t need to fly again. (He does.)

So, @run-me-through-but-not-like-that (hope the tag isn’t annoying!) wrote a wing fic with Izzy a while ago and it has not left my brain since. I thought that Izzy deserved to fly again and I love wing fics. So, here’s this.

Warnings: mentioned wing injuries, angst, Izzy being difficult

Title Song: Rocketeer by Far East Movement (but I’m specifically thinking of this cover by Clara C.)

It was impossible not to notice.

A crew member with wings was fairly run of the mill. If anything, they were sought after since the benefits of having a pirate who could fly were too many to count. Most crews only had two or three if they were lucky. The Revenge somehow had six five, Ed, Fang, Bonnet, Buttons, and you.

You still somehow stood out.

Your wings were absolutely massive. You had a larger wingspan than Ed which was a feat on its own. And you were without question the strongest flier on the crew.  (Yes, the crew of this clown ship had hosted a competition for that for some bloody reason, during which Izzy did his damndest to hide below deck) Though, and he’d never admit it, he did enjoy watching you. Watching you fly so smoothly when you scouted the waters ahead, watching you swoop down to attack an enemy sending them falling off the boat while you effortlessly shot back up into the air, watching you laugh and joke with the crew, wings moving almost as much as your hands as you spoke, emphasizing your words. You always flew so gracefully. Each twitch of your feathers was intentional and the gusts of wind that each flap of your wings created felt like a storm.

Every once in a while he’d purposely stand near you and when the wind from your wings hit his face it felt like he was flying again, just for an instant, but of course, that instant would pass and then he’d be slammed back into reality, grounded, permanently.

It was beautiful.

It was horrible.

Watching you was incredible but it made his wings ache. 

He was stuck. Part of him wanted to cling to you and to the memories of flying. But he didn’t. Instead he avoided you and your beautiful wings and the memories you brought, snapping whenever you dared try and get close, being significantly more hostile towards you than the rest of the crew.

Despite that, you kept trying. You were soft. Just like the rest of the crew. You were capable too, on par with what he’d expect from Blackbeard’s crew. But you were soft. You were kind and gentle and helpful. You always greeted him with a warm “Hello Izzy!” or a “Good morning, Izzy!” or a “Do you need anything, Izzy?”

It made it hard to hate you.

He wondered if it was harder to hate you or to deal with the reminders you brought of what he couldn’t do anymore.

Regardless, he avoided you. 

But avoiding you forever wasn’t practical…

A high pitched yell pulled him away from his work as he dragged a hand across his face.

“No peace and fockin’ quiet on this fockin’ ship.” He grumbled.

Usually a yell like that would have him worried that they were under attack but much to his surprise, he wasn’t really worried. He realized with no small amount of shock that it was because you’d been the one scouting today and you certainly wouldn’t be so incompetent. 

He quickly stopped thinking about how that must mean he trusts you.

Izzy stepped onto the deck and immediately noticed the source of the commotion. Practically the entire crew was crowded on the deck all clearly watching something. That something turned out to be you.

You were flying, easily keeping yourself hovering in place with strategic flaps of your wings. Clutching desperately onto you, was Lucius. The scribe looks like he was moments away from screaming again even as Izzy saw you gently comforting him and (if he was reading your lips right) telling him that it wasn’t that high up, that even if you dropped him, which you emphasized that you definitely wouldn’t do, he’d be fine.

Izzy shook his head trying to stop staring at you. He did the only thing he could think of and barked out “What the fuck are you useless lot doing?” 

A few people turned to glare at him and you looked remarkably guilty. In an annoyingly graceful movement, you landed deftly on the deck and gently released Lucius (honestly having to peel him off more than anything). 

You rubbed the back of your head awkwardly. “Sorry Izzy! Some of the crew wanted to go for a fly and I was done scouting— didn’t see anything interesting— and I’m the strongest flier… So, I figured.” You rambled and Izzy made a point of not looking at how the edges of your wings twitched as you moved your hands. “I… uh…” You seemed to lose confidence as you spoke. “Yeah…”

Some members of the crew notably stepped in between him and you as if to defend you. Not that it stopped him from opening his mouth, ready to unleash a volley of insults but the hand on his shoulder did.

“Aw, come on now. Lay off them Iz…” Edward’s voice was soft as he wrapped both his arm and wing around his shoulder, almost hiding the two of them from view.

The crew went back to talking to you, assuming that Ed would handle Izzy.

Ed took his chance and ducked slightly and whispered into Izzy’s ear, almost conspiratorially, “You know, if you asked, I’m sure they’d take you for a fly… They’re probably the only person we’ve met who could.” 

Izzy tensed. Of course you could. And Ed was right. You were very likely the only person who could. He’d never met anyone with wings as strong as yours. You definitely could carry him and fly.

Edward couldn’t. His wings were made for speed, not strength. Even though he’d been nearly dead, he remembered the first raid after his wings had gotten injured. Ed had scooped him into his arms and flown them back to their ship. He’d barely made it, actually hitting the railing and sending both of them skidding across the deck. Ed had sprained his own wings horribly after that, so Izzy never let him carry him again. He wouldn’t let his captain ground himself for his sake.

Izzy glanced at you again as you gently pulled Lucius into your arms again, comforting him before gently taking off.

The idea took over his mind. He could fly again. He’d never thought it would be possible.

No. It didn’t matter. He was fine.

He’d been fine without his flight for years. The hours he’d spent staring at the sky didn’t matter. The nights he’d spend curled up in his bunk, trying desperately to fall back asleep and dream of flying for just one more second didn’t matter.

He was fine.

Izzy rolled his shoulder pushing Ed’s hand off him. “I don’t need them.” He spat and stormed off.

He made a point of not looking at Edward’s guilty look. He knew that Ed had always blamed himself for the state of Izzy’s wings. Izzy had gotten the injuries protecting him after all. Even if Izzy knew about his captain's guilt, he couldn’t understand it. Protecting his captain came before everything else. Even his wings.

And he was fine.

—

Izzy did a double take the moment he stepped onto the deck for his late night rounds. The deck was empty, the night chilly enough to send everyone down to the bunks rather than sleeping on deck. But that wasn’t what caught his eye. Everything was done? The rigging was secure. The deck was organized and clean and he had no idea what was going on.

Until he spotted a familiar wing. 

Of course. It just had to be you. 

You were crouched near the front of the ship, wings fluttering in concentration as you meticulously checked the remainder of the rigging. So the state of the deck was probably because of you. But why? You’d usually be in bed or eating with the crew by now and you certainly didn’t have a late night shift today. So why were you here working?

Not sure how to get your attention without having to get close enough to risk touching your wings or yelling, he cleared his throat. You jumped lightly and he saw your hand shoot for the blade at your side until you looked over your shoulder and caught sight of him. Then you smiled.

“Evenin’ Izzy!” You greeted as politely as usual.

“Right,” was his curt response. “What are you doing here so damn late?”

You stood, somewhat sheepishly. “Oh, well… I figured I ought to help out a little…” He only got more confused and you seemed to notice since you continued, “well, I was the one who distracted everyone earlier and I wanted to make it up to you… so… I handled some things.” 

He furrowed his brows. “Make it up to me?”

“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t want you getting stuck with extra work cause I distracted everyone.”  You said it so matter-of-factly too, as if it was normal for you to do something like that for him.

On any other ship, if you’d do something like that, it would be out of fear, hoping to avoid punishment for slacking off. But no one on this ship was actually afraid of him since they all knew that the captains wouldn’t let him do anything. Maybe you were doing another strange thing again. Like how you greeted him and helped out.

Ridiculous.

“Fine.” He glanced at the rigging. “Not bad.” You beamed like he’d given you a huge compliment. “Go.” He dismissed you coldly, trying not to think about how much he liked seeing you smiling.

You walked past him, still smiling. Then you stopped. He was moments away from telling you to fuck off when you spoke again, “You know… my offer stands for you too.” He looked back at you.

“What offer?” He snapped.

“Flying. You weren’t on deck when I mentioned it to the rest of the crew but if you ever want me to take you for a fly, I’d be happy to. Just say the word.” He froze. “If you don’t want to do anything around the crew, let me know and I can find a time where we can fly without them around.”

Izzy stared at you. 

Did he want that?

Did he want to fly again?

He tried to picture it, the wind in his face, the ocean beneath him, your arms holding him and your beautiful wings keeping both of you in the air.

He hates the fact that he doesn’t hate the ideas.

You seem to take his silence and glare wrong as you rush to correct yourself. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to assume… I know you don’t like me and I know my wings make you uncomfortable and-

“What?” Izzy manages to force the word out, cutting off your words. 

You smiled sadly. “I'm not that oblivious. I know you keep avoiding me and whenever I fly you always seem really uncomfortable. I’m sorry. I want to be friends but if you want me to fuck off, just say the word and I’ll try to stay out of your way.”  

“Friends?” He echoed as if that was the most surprising thing you’d said. Not only had you caught on to his behavior but you were actively trying to make it up to him for them. 

You chuckled but it was clearly more at yourself than anything he said. ”Yeah… stupid. I know… I’m so sorry.”

“No.” He wasn’t sure why but he had to say it, had to get that stupid sad expression off your face. You seemed surprised. “I don't hate you.”

You froze, glancing back at him. “What?”

He groaned, realizing that he’d backed himself into a conversational corner. “I don’t hate you or your wings. Honestly you’re the most tolerable out of this whole damn crew. You actually know what you’re doing.”

You turned fully to face him, confusion and hope clear on your face. “You don’t? Then why do you avoid me?”

“Because I hate being reminded of what I can’t do!” He snapped. Then almost immediately froze as he realized what he’d said a moment after saying it. Your eyes widened. His eyes widened. “Fuck.”

His wings flexed uselessly under the many layers of wraps keeping them pressed to his back.

“You have…”

“Yes.” No point beating around the bush. “Can’t fly anymore.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Your tone of voice stunned him. You weren’t mocking him. He still remembered the way the rest of Hornigold’s crew had reacted to his sudden grounding. And get here you were genuinely telling him you were sorry without an ounce of sarcasm or mockery. You, with the most beautiful set of wings he’d ever seen.

“I don’t want your damn pity.” He snapped.

You didn’t react. “It’s not pity. I mean it. I’m genuinely sorry that happened to you.”

He didn’t know how to react to the fact he believed you.

“Thank you for telling me Izzy. If you ever need anyone to help with your wings, just ask.” Your words were so gentle, so genuine. “Goodnight Izzy.” You turned.

“Wait.” The word came out like a command, even as his voice shook. He knew if he didn’t say it now he’d probably never get the courage again. You turned, confused. But Izzy spoke before you did. “I want to fly.”

“What?”

“I’m not fucking saying it again.”

You (damn you) didn’t push or try to mess with him. Instead you just smiled. “Of course. If you’d like, we could go now?” You offered gently.

Izzy hesitated. He technically didn’t have any nightly duties left since you’d done everything aside from being on watch which he could easily do while flying. He swallowed. “Sure.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face and the way your wings fluttered in excitement. You opened your arms and smiled at him. “I’m going to have to pick you up.” 

Izzy couldn’t help but be a little grateful for you simply allowing him to come to you rather than grab him. With far more hesitation than he cared to admit, Izzy moved closer, tentatively stepping into arms reach of you.. You gestured with your arms and raised a brow, silently asking if you could pick him up. Izzy managed to mumble a “Yeah, go for it.” and he was lucky the two of you were so close since he was barely louder than a whisper.

You moved carefully, gently picking him up. One of your arms under his legs and the other resting gently against his back. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to keep himself steady and was trying (and failing) incredibly hard to not think about how you were holding him

“You good?” You asked, speaking incredibly softly. With Izzy in your arms like he was, he could feel your breath on his ear. Izzy doubted he could actually get his lips to form words but he managed a quick nod. “Alright, I’m going to stay over the deck, not too high. Then if that’s fine with you I can fly around.”

Why did you have to be so frustratingly considerate? 

Izzy nodded against your shoulder.

You smiled, even without looking at you, he could hear it in your voice. “Got it. I’m taking off on the count of 3. 1…”

Izzy took a deep breath.

“2…”

He adjusted his grip on your shoulders.

“3!”

More on instinct than any conscious thought, Izzy buried his face in your shoulder. He heard the flap of your wings, the air rushing past, and then, calm. He pulled away from your shoulder slowly and opened his eyes. The two of you were hovering over the deck, about eye level with the mizzentop, your wings carefully flapping to keep you both as still as possible. It took a moment for everything to click in his mind. 

He was flying.

“Izzy?” Your voice gently pulled him from his thoughts. “Are you alright?”

He really wanted to give some cool response maybe a smooth “never better” but instead the only sound that managed to escape him was a “mhhnngh” which not only wasn’t smooth at all but also didn’t answer your question so instead he managed to nod.

“Do you want to fly around more?” He could practically hear the smile in your voice. 

Since Izzy’s vocal chords were still not cooperating, he nodded, almost frantically.

“Alright… Let’s go…” With another powerful flap of your wings you shot off away from the Revenge. Izzy felt the wind rushing by his face, tousling his hair. He watched the ocean flicker past just below him.  You dove down, and Izzy suddenly felt the sea mist against his skin. 

When his wings had healed enough for him to attempt flying, he'd honestly already known at that point that it would be useless. He’d tried regardless. Of course, he couldn’t. He pretended it didn’t bother him. But honestly, the idea that he’d never be able to fly again burned up his mind in a way he’d never been able to shake.

But he was actually flying.

It felt like a dream.

Izzy’s eyes must have been watering from the wind and the salt. 

He definitely wasn’t crying.

He was fine.

Without even thinking about it, Izzy reached a hand out towards the sea, desperate to reach out and touch it, as if that would fully confirm for him that he wasn’t dreaming. Seemingly realizing what he wanted, you swooped lower, allowing the tips of Izzy’s fingers to skip across the surface of the waves. You soared up into the air, Izzy watching the waves created from air from your wings.  Then you dove back down. You flew laps around the Revenge, staying just close enough to be safe. Of course, you (irritatingly considerate) kept checking in with him. “Is this okay?” “You alright?” “Everything fine?” To which Izzy could only respond with nods.

By the time you were landing back on deck,  Izzy honestly had no clue how long the two of you had been flying. He’d somehow just let himself get lost in the feeling of flying. A quick glance at the sky made him suddenly realize that his watch was almost up. The two of you had flown around almost all night. Izzy was honestly a lot more reluctant to leave your arms than he’d expected to be, but the fear of someone coming on deck and seeing you both made him finally remove himself from your arms.

He expected to feel just as awful as he had when he’d first realized he was stuck on the ground the moment his feet touched the ground but that didn’t happen. He felt lighter, more comfortable, like some tension he didn’t even realize he’d been carrying was gone. He scrubbed his face with his sleeve, trying to make it look more like he was rubbing sleep away from his eyes with limited success.

“Izzy?” Your voice once again, cut through the silence. He spun, turning to see you leaning against the railing, wings relaxed and breathing a bit heavier than normal, shoulders visibly moving. It seemed that even for someone as strong as you, flying around for hours carrying someone was a lot of work. 

“You look exhausted. You should have stopped sooner.” He winced at his own words, hating how even that came out as a complaint.

You chuckled lightly, seemingly not taking his words as insulting in any way. “Yeah, probably.” You agreed as you gently stretched your wings out. Izzy was once again struck by how big and powerful your wings were. “But you seemed to be having a good time so… I only really doubled back when I realized the watch shift was going to change, figured you wouldn’t want any of the crew seeing you.”

Again with you being so frustratingly considerate of him. Izzy sighed. You still made little sense to him with all that kindness but that was an issue for another day. “You ought to go to sleep. I’ll handle your morning tasks so you can sleep in.”

You immediately waved your hands. “Oh you don’t have to do that!”

“I know I don’t.” Izzy replied matter-of-factly. “Just as you didn’t need to stay up late to help me nor take me flying.”

“You don’t owe me for any of that, Izzy. I did that because I wanted to.” 

He actually fumbled with his words for a moment. If it were anyone else, he would have immediately called bullshit, but you looked so incredibly genuine. Either you were the best liar he’d ever met, or you were being sincere. “In that case, go to bed. I’ll cover for you because I want to.” He tried to make his voice as authoritative as possible but it was incredibly hard to do that when you were looking at him so softly. “You’re not convincing me otherwise.”

You smiled. “If you insist. Goodnight Izzy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight.” Izzy replied with a nod. You walked past him to the bunks, and Izzy gathered up his courage. “Thank you.” He managed to force out without turning to face you,  just as you were about to leave. 

“Of course, anytime!”

Left alone on deck for a few minutes until shift change, Izzy watched the sky.

[decks-writing-blog]

Couldn't Leave You Behind

Summary: Eli and Kleiner are chased by a pack of houndeyes and a bullsquid.

[A/N] I had the idea to write about Eli losing his lower leg and making it have an Elisaac vibe because if I want content for this ship, I gotta do it myself, then I figured I should probably google it to see if there was a canon explanation for how it happened that I could adapt to what I wanted to write. And turns out he lost his lower leg because he got attacked by a bullsquid when helping Kleiner get over a barrier and into City 17 which actually feeds me shipping them, dude lost part of a limb to help Kleiner, that's true love right there. (Seriously, how is this a rare pair when that's a canon event between them? Where are all the old man fuckers in the Half Life fandom?) So here is my take on that event.

Content Warning: blood and gore, Eli's foot gets hit by bullsquid acid and is somewhat graphically described.

~

Breath burned in Isaac’s chest, his heart beating faster than it probably ever had before. His legs and sides ached, sharp and insistent, begging him to slow down or stop before he collapsed. Ahead of him, Eli’s lead was growing bigger and bigger; that jogging phase he’d had back before the Black Mesa incident, coming in to help him once more. Behind Isaac though, the lead he’d had on the pack of houndeyes and single bullsquid chasing them was shrinking. Their barking, gurgling, and thumping of their feet on the decaying road, growing louder as they gained on him.

A hiss that he now recognized as the bullsquid preparing to spit came from uncomfortably close behind him. He sped up… or tried to; he didn’t have much left to give. With a splatter and a hiss of an entirely different sort, acid spit splattered onto the ground just to his left, prompting him to hop to the right with a small yelp. The bullsquid’s aim was worse when it was in motion. A rather interesting data point in that it was currently the main reason he was still alive.

Up ahead, Eli reached the barrier. He’d be justified in jumping up and hoisting himself over it, leaving Isaac to make it or not entirely on his own. Like the sentimental fool he was though, he didn’t. Instead he skidded to a halt and turned back. “Hurry Izzy!”

Isaac would’ve loved to shout back that he was running as fast as he possibly could but didn’t have the breath to spare for even a single syllable. If he survived this he was going to have a jogging phase too, get himself in some kind of better running shape lest he ever find himself in such a situation again. That was looking more and more like a rather big ‘if’ though as he didn’t have much left in him.

Another hiss and splash of acid, this time just to his right would’ve had him yelping again if he hadn’t lacked the breath to make such a sound. It gave him another incentive to keep going though despite feeling like he might collapse at any moment.

Just a little bit further and… he almost crashed into the barrier next to Eli. How the fuck was he going to get over it? Its top was just in reach – the reason they’d chosen this as their entrance point into the city, it was the least secure barricade their scouts had spotted. He reached up for it anyway, scrambling to pull himself up it despite having spent all his strength on the run over. He was doomed; he’d run all this way just to…

Instead of hoisting himself up too as expected, Eli put himself under Isaac and pushed him, giving the exact boost he needed to get over the barrier. He tumbled over it with an undignified yelp, landing hard on his shoulder on the other side but alive. Ignoring the pain, he pushed himself up to his feet as fast as he could force himself to help Eli in whatever way he could.

He was just in the time to catch Eli as he toppled over the wall with his own yelp, more a scream really. Naturally catching him sent Isaac right back to the ground with Eli on top of him this time, knocking whatever little breath he’d had left out of him. Painful but he was alive. They’d made into City 17.

Eli groaned and rolled off of him, blessedly making it easier to breathe. Isaac would’ve gladly just lain there next to him while they caught their breath but… Eli’s face was scrunched up with pain. He’d been hurt somewhere. Damn it.

Isaac sat up, ready to get to work searching for which bone had been broken but there was no need as the injury was impossible to miss. Eli’s foot had been hit with acid spit. It had eaten through his shoe and lower pant leg, melting into his flesh and revealing bone. It was hissing, steaming and bubbling as the acid continued to eat through it.

Still desperately trying to catch his breath, Isaac quickly pulled his pack off and dug through for one of the spare water bottles. Carefully as he could while still being quick about it, he poured it out over Eli’s foot, moving it back and forth over the whole injury. Eli hissed and tried to jerk away, forcing Isaac to move after him. Before resuming pouring the water, he used his other hand to grab Eli’s knee, holding it still.

By the time the bottle was empty, the acid seemed to have mostly been washed out of the wound. But just to be sure, he pulled out another one and poured the whole of that one out too.

“How bad is it?” Eli asked, his voice strained with pain.

“Uh… pretty bad.” The acid had eaten through the entire shoe and most of the flesh surrounding the foot, leaving bone and tendon exposed, much of it burned away as well. Further up wasn’t as bad but there was still a sickening amount of bone exposed with varying degrees of acid damage. “I don’t think you’re likely to keep this foot.” Isaac wasn’t a medical doctor but one didn’t need to be to see that there was no saving it. “I imagine once we get you to a medical professional, they’ll want to amputate it.” Especially considering the potential infections having alien spit splattered in one’s wound was bound to cause.

“That bad, huh?”

“Yes.” Isaac pulled off his lab coat and using the pair of scissors from the pack set to cutting it up so he could bandage Eli’s foot as best he could with his limited medical experience. It wasn’t clean but the foot wasn’t likely to be saved anyway. He started with his best attempt at a tourniquet around the upper thigh. “Why’d you wait for me?”

“Couldn’t leave you behind, had to make sure you made it.”

Isaac couldn’t complain about that, especially since he wasn’t sure he could’ve gotten over the barrier in time without Eli’s help. But if the bullsquid’s aim had been a bit more true, if the acid had hit Eli’s back, even with the backpack and the supplies inside, it likely would’ve had a far worse outcome than just him losing a foot and part of his lower leg. “What about Alyx? If you’d died because of me, she’d have no one.”

“Not true, she’d have you, Dog, and Barney. I couldn’t leave you behind, Izzy, don’t say I should’ve. I’ve lost enough people already. Besides, I lived, didn’t I? So it’s fine.”

It had come far too close though. But they had both blessedly lived and such luck wasn’t something Isaac wanted to question lest it not remain for long. So, in silence, he finished doing what he could for Eli’s injury before helping him stand. He had to lean heavily into Isaac, his arm around his shoulder as Isaac returned the gesture, helping him hop along on one foot.

It would’ve been preferable to have a medical professional come to him and carry him in a stretcher or wheel chair. But they didn’t have that luxury. They had to get to the safe house before the sun rose in a few hours and then they had work to do. Most of which Isaac would be doing alone now as Eli rested and got much needed proper medical attention. Being the heads of the resistance efforts really sucked sometimes but it was certainly better than many of the alternatives.

[heartfullofleeches]

You got any big man yans? I lobe big men of all kinds, muscle, fluff, whatever I love them <3

How long have you been here? Like 70 percent of these fuckers are big bois. Baron is 7ft tall and built like a truck. His pops is 12 feet. All of the hybrid guys are tall, Licorice and Milk Tea being on the slimmer side. Sammy was born with the physic of a gym bro and Spencer is one. Scout/Bear the wolf is another big boy and had that muscle/chub body type. Host, just Host. I'm still deciding on his body type, but one version of Izzy has huge tits because I want the best of both worlds with his wife. There's probably others, but I can't remember any atm Edit: Since Gus uses mas pronouns too I'll add him

Shark alien guy from that mono fic is probably big too

[courtney-deserved-better]

why each tdi character auditioned for total drama according to their bios

beth - to finally meet some boys who like barn animals as much as she does

bridgette - to spread the message of cosmic love and body surfing

cody - so he can "swing" with the cool kids

courtney - it's the perfect stepping stone on her path to greatness (she thinks it’s a smaller version of the real world so if she can win on the island she can win in life)

dj - so he can use the prize money to help his momma move back to jamaica (but he didn’t audition, the producers spotted him pushing a row of eighty shopping carts across the parking lot at his part time grocery job and knew they wanted him on the show)

duncan - to curb his boredom and avoid the detention center 

eva - to showcase her leadership skills and curb her temper

ezekiel - his family doctor was concerned about his vitamin-d deficiency, so his parents were instructed to get him out of the house and into fresh air

geoff - it has all his favorite things: people, camping, and parties

gwen - to use the money to help her single mom (though she only auditioned on a dare from her brother)

harold - to test out his intense possum scout training

heather - to open more doors for her so she can eventually attain her long-term goal of ruling europe

izzy - to win, as she’s willing to do whatever it takes, even camping outside a producer's front door for three weeks to be cast on the show (the producer got a restraining order against her)

justin - so he can donate his winnings to the unattractive-looking people wish foundation (though nobody really knows why he auditioned in the first place)

katie - to become closer friends with sadie

leshawna - to be a role model for troubled teens by showing that anyone can win if they give it their all

lindsay - so her gorgeousness could be shared with millions of people on tv

noah - to apply skills from fantasyland survival video games to the real world

owen - because summer camp is the funnest place in the whole entire world!!!!

sadie - to become closer friends with katie

trent - it sounded like a cool way to spend the summer and $100,000 would make a nice down payment for his dream chopper

tyler - for the wild challenges to test his skills

[ademonandherbentley]

He thinks it's a few days later when someone finally comes knocking. He can’t be sure - thoughts and time have been… blurry, ever since news of Bonnet’s death reached them, and as long as they’re stuck anchored in this port making repairs Blackbeard is not going to be seeing daylight. It’s stupid, it’s not like it happened here, but any glimpse of the land he was abandoned for might prove too much, and really what does any of it fucking matter now?

So yeah. Probably a few days when he hears a knocking at the cabin door.

“Piss off Izzy.” His voice isn’t slurring which he supposes he’s grateful for, somewhere in the back of his mind where human feelings have been buried alive.

Heedless of his command, the door swings open. Blackbeard twists to face it, hand seeking for something to throw; the last thing he wants to see right now is his First Mate’s smug fucking face. The downright euphoric look he’d sported while imparting the news of Bonnet was still burning behind his eyes.

He stills when he sees Jim.

Have they finally tired of playing it safe; come to finish him off? Fuck, he feels defenseless enough. Frenchie could probably take him out right now. He might not even fight that hard.

Instead of reaching for a blade, however, Jim simply stops halfway across the room and regards him from beneath the brim of their hat.

Blackbeard gathers himself. “The fuck d’you want?”

Jim lets the silence stretch another long, cool moment and he wonders whether they’ve simply come to enjoy the show. Bonnet for Oluwande, a broken heart for a broken heart, he supposes he can’t begrudge them a little revelry in his despair. He’s about to roll over and leave them to it when they finally speak.

“Been doing some scouting,” they say, “while we’re stuck in port.”

“Okay?”

“Chased a few whispers. Found out exactly how Stede died.”

If Blackbeard were a little more alive he might have flinched back. He’d kept Jim around precisely for the ruthlessness he knew them capable of, but this was a cruelty he’d thought beyond them. Had he driven them to this?

“You wanna hear about it?” They ask.

He lets a deep-sea snarl into his voice “No.”

“He was attacked by a jungle cat.”

Something simultaneously hot and cold and sharp and suffocating lances through Blackbeard’s chest; a laugh just the wrong side of hysterical bubbles up in his throat. 

“He - he was killed by a jungle cat?” God. Only Stede fucking Bonnet could be taken out by something so ridiculous, so outlandish, so perfectly on brand right until the last-

“No.”

His spiral hits a bump in the road and skitters to a halt. “No?”

“I said he was attacked by a jungle cat. He survived.”

“Then why did you-”

“He was injured though,” Jim ploughs on, “too injured to get out of the way of the carriage before it hit him.”

A carriage? It was almost worse than mauled to death. In the short time he’d known him Stede had survived two - count them, two - major stabbings, and being hung by the neck, and that was only the start of the list of nonsense that would have killed a normal person. The idea he could be taken out by something so pedestrian…

“And that’s what killed him?” 

“Maybe.”

“The fuck you mean ‘maybe’?” If he were more confident in his ability to read Jim he might call that look on their face amused.

“He might have survived the carriage. We’ll never know.”

“Jim, if you don’t get to a point-”

“No one was able to get to him before the piano fell on him.”

The world crystallises. He finds himself blinking stupidly at Jim.

“A piano?”

“Yup.”

Just like that it’s like he’s been plunged into ice water -  there’s a roaring in his ears and his chest is collapsing in on itself, but out of the past days’ malaise everything is suddenly bursting so bright and so sharp it feels like he could cut himself on it.

He draws a breath and can’t even care that it comes out ragged. “He was attacked by a jungle cat… then run over… then hit by a falling piano?”

“Pretty nasty way to go.” Fuck, that look on their face was amusement, wasn’t it?

“Yeah. Nasty.” He says slowly. “Bet his face was pretty smashed up after all that.”

“Completely caved in.”

“Beyond recognition you might say.”

“You just might. In a way it’s lucky there were so many witnesses. To corroborate the story.”

Ed’s going to kill him. He’s going to wring his fancy, idiot, perfect neck the melodramatic, insufferable genius.

Gears in his head - gears that have been gummed up and gathering dust for days - are grinding back to life, and a thought emerges from the chaos. He looks at Jim.

“Why are you telling me this?” He asks.

Jim shrugs. “Figured you’d enjoy it,” they say, but they hesitate a fraction too long and they aren’t looking him in the eye, and Blackbeard knows full well Jim holds him in neither fear nor reverence.

He leans forward and regards them as they manage not to fidget. After a moment they huff an annoyed breath.

“Look,” they say, “Everyone on this ship follows you, si? So you need to be a Captain. I’m not getting killed ‘cause you were too busy moping in here to rally us.”

Ed has the nagging feeling that isn’t the whole truth either - Jim’s one of the most physically capable people he’s ever met. They could be alone on deck when another ship came at them all cannons blasting and he’d still bet on them making it out unscathed. But if that’s the answer they want to sell him he’ll accept it for now. All of a sudden there are more important things to think about.

“Who else knows about this?” He asks.

Jim shrugs again, much more naturally this time, “Just Frenchie.”

Ed nods, “How about we keep this between the three of us for now?”

Jim’s mouth quirks up fractionally in what Ed might call a smile if he was mad and keen on getting a knife thrown at him (which, despite what the whispers might say, he was neither). He jerks his head at the door and Jim takes their leave, clicking the door shut behind them.

For a long time he sits staring into the distance as his mind whirs. There are too many questions and far too few answers, but the one he finds himself circling back to again and again is what now?

Stede went home - that makes sense, in a blistering, bleeding sort of way. But then he left again? Where has he gone? Is he coming ba-

No. Ed’s not going to finish that thought. Finishing a thought like that leads to things like entertaining the thought, starting to believe the thought, letting hope settle in around the thought in the dark with only his ruined makeup for company. Hope has not served Ed well over the years, and putting any hope in Bonnet…

Ed steers his thoughts onto safer ground. He’d much rather they left port quickly, before Izzy hears anything he shouldn’t. Time to get back onto the water anyway, this stagnation is making Ed itchy, and who knows what might be waiting for them out - bad, bad thought, put that thought down.

He briefly considers getting drunk, then realises that would make it worse.

He shuffles back round until he’s staring out of the cabin window overlooking the ocean. He still hates Stede, he reassures himself. He’s still going to kill him if he ever lays eyes on him. He’s glad that there’s still a chance he’ll get to, that’s all.

There’s still a chance…

God, Ed is so fucked.

Swearing under his breath, he stands and exits the cabin for the first time in days. The sun is high and hot and Ed definitely isn’t grateful that squinting his eyes against it does most of the work of putting on his now-habitual glower.

As always, his crew jumps to when he barks orders and Izzy doesn’t seem to suspect anything is up with him (never suspects, never asks, so long as Blackbeard is dancing the right steps) and sooner than planned they’re sailing back out of the harbour.

Ed stands at the bow, letting the wind and salt spray bring him back to life. He tells himself that the feeling twisting in his gut and lancing at his heart is just the thrill of the chase; the call of the deep beckoning him home.

He isn’t hoping. Not for anything. Blackbeard doesn’t hope. If Jim soon finds their curfew lifted and the constant guard gone from their door, well… Blackbeard is erratic and half-insane, and his motives are frequently impenetrable, and fuck you for asking about it.

Its Captain’s gaze trained on the horizon, the Revenge sails forward. 

[izzy-b-hands]

"He never goes hiking alone again," Stede says. "That's thing one that we'll need to address."

"He didn't 'go hiking'," Izzy scoffs. "He ran out of gas and went walking to get more, and probably wound up going the wrong way."

"That's a kind of hiking, because this is a mountain!"

"That's...it can't work like that!"

Their Lyft driver seems all too glad to drop them off at the base of the trail. Ed's car is parked incredibly shittily (presumably because of the running out of gas, otherwise he'd better have some other excuse), but Ed himself is nowhere to be seen.

"Where does it show his phone?" Stede reaches for Izzy's phone.

"It shows as close as it can to the nearest tower, aka this mountain, the same as it did on the way here," Izzy leans back, phone in his outstretched hand. "And you don't need my phone to know that!"

"Just let me look!"

Why is the tire iron on the ground?"

Stede turns back to Ed's car. "Huh. Odd, right? The tires look fine."

"We should get going and find him. The text that he was out of gas and finding a place to stop was hours ago-"

Stede walks away from him and picks up the iron. "There's blood on this."

--

"How long has it been since you've done this?"

Of course Bonnet doesn't know. They share Ed, sure, and fuck each other, but it doesn't go beyond that, and this is why. He doesn't fucking listen.

"Last weekend," Izzy sighs. "Jim and I tried a new trail. Remember? They sent an email out with pictures to everyone?"

"Because I love a good nature walk, but this seems like it might be more intense," Stede continues. "We'll weather it together though."

"As if there's any other choice."

"What was that?"

"I said," Izzy panics. "Don't raise your voice. Um. Cougars."

"Are there any here?"

"Why would I know?"

"Why wouldn't you?!"

Izzy fights the urge to throw himself or Stede off the mountain. Besides, at such a low height, the fall would barely maim them, let alone kill them.

"Jim and I stick to trails with posted signage, so we know from that what to look out for."

"No research beforehand? That's a dangerous game, Izzy."

Again, he thinks of the brush smashing into his face, if he would simply fall over and start rolling sideways now.

"We don't have to talk," Izzy sighs.

"No, I suppose we don't. Just... it's a nice distraction."

It is. Ed is probably fine, but finding a tire iron with blood on it isn't the most encouraging sign either.

That, and he hasn't texted again. Not even after they both texted him, called, at Stede's insistence tried a video call too.

His phone might just be dead.

"I read a good book for this situation," Stede continues. "Have you ever read Hatchet?"

"...probably?"

"Then you know the secrets to basic survival as well!"

"Oh," Izzy says. "No, I don't think... it's a kid's book, right? Not a bad one, I mean, but-"

"Here in the States they have Boy Scouts, maybe Ed's run into some of them! That would be good luck."

"They don't prowl the woods in packs!"

"But they do camping trips! I loved reading about that as a kid. Yeah, we had our version, but back then the American version was the It Thing-"

Izzy splutters. "They're people's children! They don't just wander the woods ceaselessly!"

A branch snaps.

"We should probably get a move on," Stede mutters. "It'll be dark soon."

--

"Everyone is going to ask why we didn't call the police first," Izzy says. "And I do start to wonder why we didn't."

"Would they go out this soon for an adult? I didn't think the Americans did that."

"The sooner we leave this country, the better," Izzy grumbles. "I know, ultimately the work project has been a good one. But you own everything to do with it now, so you can move us back home, or somewhere that isn't here at least."

"I admit that would be nice," Stede sighs. "Should we stop, eat and rest for a moment?"

"It's getting darker by the minute, can we really afford to lose that time?"

They press onwards.

--

"If there was no sign warning of animals," Bonnet whispers. "Then there probably aren't any here. That logic tracks."

"Does it?"

"Kiss me as a distraction?"

"We don't have time for-"

A huff of breath.

"Don't run," Izzy murmurs. "Just keep walking."

"I'd really rather die making out, if I must die out here-"

"I know, but shhh!"

"Izzy-"

Something crashes behind them, and he grabs Stede's hand.

"Run ahead, and find. Well, if it's a bear actually going higher won't work and-"

Something heavy thunks him in the back.

"What the fuck?"

"Oh!" Ed's voice emerges from the shadow. "It is you guys. Oh my god! This-it'll be funny once I tell you-I thought you two were some, I don't even know, out here to murder me!"

Ed cackles, and holds up his hunting knife. "I nearly smacked this into the back of your neck, thinking I was protecting myself! Holy shit, wow, fuck, actually that. That could have been bad. Oh god-"

"Let's put that back in the sheath," Stede says softly, taking the knife from Ed. "Glad you carry it though, considering how dangerous this area seems. And right by the highway!"

"Where else would...nature doesn't-" Izzy rolls his eyes. "Never mind. But he's right. Good that you have it, though thank you for not outright stabbing me."

"What about the tire iron?" Stede asks. "We found it and I touched it and oh my fingerprints are on it, Ed-"

"There was a snake," Ed interrupts. "So I beat it to death with the tire iron."

"I didn't see any remains of a snake."

Izzy shakes his head. "Nothing. Maybe an animal-"

"Oh no," Ed says. "You know how I am with snakes. He was beaten, to death, and into pieces, and then oblivion."

Izzy blinks. "When did you last eat?"

"Lunchtime."

"We need to get out and get you food."

--

"You know," Stede says as they drive down the dark highway, towards the nearest open diner. "I didn't hate that. I hated the reason we were out there, of course, because I was worried about Ed. But the actual walk..."

"You don't want to do that again."

"Did you really hate it?"

"...no. The quiet bits, both of us not snapping at each other, those were relaxing. I'd just rather not be out there because we're rescuing Ed."

There's a snore in the backseat. Not surprising, because Ed fell asleep even before AAA got to them with more gas. He's probably out even harder now.

Stede smiles. "Well then. I'm free this next weekend."

"Oh-"

"You're free this next weekend-"

"I am-"

Stede shrugs. "If you'd rather not..."

"I didn't say no. Just...not this trail."

"Oh god, no, we'll go to a different one. A better one. With a field to lay in."

"You have a fetish for being covered in ticks?" Izzy asks. "Because out here-"

"Ah, that's right. We'll just have to fuck in the car before and after I guess."

"I guess we will."

[wheredidalltheusersgo]

The Stranded and The Scaly

Chapter 2 Day 2: Losing optimism.

Geoff awoke to Chris McLean's obnoxious camper-wake-up-call and groaned in annoyance as he covered his ears and tried to get some more sleep. However, he was hungry and he needed to find something edible for breakfast, so he reluctantly got up.

As he stretched, he felt and heard his spine pop a bit. "Aw, fuck..." He breathed. He'll definitely think twice before sleeping in an uncomfortable position again like he did last night. Man, he wished he brought his duffel bag with him.

Wait..... His duffel bag! He must have left it around the docks somewhere! He had a sleeping bag in that thing, after all!

Breakfast could wait, he needed to find that duffel bag!

Granted, he had to stay out of sight so neither Chris or the contestants would spot him.

As Geoff ran through the woods, he kept an eye out for anyone who could alert him to Chris, and when he finally got to where he left his duffel bag, he was panting and seriously out of breath. He hugged the duffel bag and slumped down against a rock. Okay, he found his duffel bag, now he needed to find something to chow down on. Maybe he could find some berries? Nah, too risky. He had zero clue which ones were edible or not. Maybe he could practice his fishing skills? That shouldn't be too hard. He'd already eaten the protein bar he had in his pocket last night, and he wanted to save the extras in his duffel bag for when he couldn't find anything else.

So, fishing it was.

First of all, he needed to put together a makeshift fishing rod. Chris had made them put together tons of cruddy things during their first season! Duncan was great at that kind of thing! And Izzy was great at finding all sorts of things!

....But they weren't here right now, and he missed them.

Geoff sighed sadly as he broke a long, thin branch off a tree. That should make for a decent rod! "Now for the fishing line..." he mumbled to himself as he rummaged through his duffel bag for the little container of dental floss he had packed. Once he found it, he tied one end of the floss to the end of the stick and grinned, he was proud of his handiwork, even if it wasn't much. The tricky part of this little project was finding a decent hook. There wasn't much Geoff could think of using, as there weren't many options.

He eventually gave up on looking for a hook to use and started inspecting the ground to see if he could find a grub or worm to use as bait. Fish liked that kind of stuff, right? As he scouted the ground, he listened to the new contestants doing their challenge of the day. He felt bad for them, stuck in Chris's shitty games.

Soon enough, Geoff was standing on the shore with his fishing rod in action, he really hoped this would work.

After an hour of two of impatience and hunger, he caught a fish and put together a campfire to cook it with. Despite the radiation in the air, the fish seemed pretty normal, and tasted normal! Though, he did wish it had some kind of seasoning.

After his breakfast, Geoff went for a hike in the woods to clear his mind and find somewhere nice to rest when night fell.

Okay, this island was NOT normal in the slightest. The animals were all mutated! While he didn't really like the island, Chris had NO right to disrespect the wildlife like that! The poor things... Bridgette and DJ wouldn't stand for this stuff!

He missed Bridgette and DJ...

He sniffled a bit and wiped any possible tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. "Where ARE you guys?.." he spoke to himself quietly as he kept walking.

As night fell once more, Geoff bundled up in his sleeping bag and rested his head on the duffel bag. At least this was better than yesterday!

He held back tears as he closed his eyes and let sleep reclaim him once more. -----

[alexanderlightweight]

Crackish Wednesday prompt for you- honeypot Magnus where the warlocks decide they need an in with the shadowhunters after the seelies have Izzy. Where Magnus meets Alec and goes 'this is a sacrifice I have to make! I'm going to honeypot him so hard I'll bring him home' (Cat: Isn't that just called dating?) Maybe other warlocks going 'wait we can do that?' - and turns out that Alec and people are not stupid but are very weak to powerful competent people acknowledging their own competence, taking an interest in them, and generally caring for their people!

this was a little fun but also a little more serious in parts because it didn't quite follow the prompt entirely, i hope you enjoy though

--

“Magnus,” Ragnor says with a sigh. “You don’t have to do this.”

Magnus takes a sip of his drink and smiles, dark and delighted, “what makes you think it’s a sacrifice.”

“Oh?” Ragnor asks curiously, leaning forward. 

“I’ve met an absolute darling of a nephilim .” And Magnus looks pleased, absolutely delighted with himself. “I’m quite willing to fulfill the Council’s request, I simply plan on doing it thoroughly. A bit of a leisure mission, if you will.”

Cat snorts from where she’s been drinking beer and letting Ragnor say his piece first.

“You just want to date him.” She says with a laugh, with good reason from what Ragnor can tell.

Magnus rolls his eyes and smirks. 

“The Council wishes to have as much as an in with shadowhunters as the seelies do, with several of their scouts tangling with the young Ms. Lightwood.”

“And?” Ragnor asks when Magnus trails off, smirking into the distance. 

“Well, her older brother happens to be equally lovely, if not more so.” Magnus shrugs, “and while the Council is hoping for a little quid pro quo and subterfuge, I think I’m up for something a little more.”

“Like?” Ragnor asks, feeling like a director prompting a scene. He would know, he tried out playwriting for a bit, but Shakespeare was the better author and Ragnor the better director. 

“Well, the Council can’t complain about something more permanent than what the seelies enjoy.” And Magnus’ grin is dark and devilish, a shade of his father peeking through. “I think I’ll make him mine, completely.”

“Oh, and how is that going to work?” Cat asks, intrigued despite herself.

“Well, we are about to have our fifth date.” Magnus says casually, like the cruel bastard he is. Right when Ragnor and Cat are both taking sips of their drinks.

Cat manages to save herself but Ragnor finds himself with the — unfortunately around Magnus — familiar pain of hot tea in his nose. 

Magnus cackles like the lovable asshole he’s always been as Ragnor huffs and takes the handkerchief offered him with a scowl.

“The council only suggested this idea a few weeks ago, how did you manage this so fast?”

And Magnus watches them for a moment before he smiles, something soft and delighted and covetous. 

“We’ve actually been going out for two months, however outings are hard when one is a nephilim commander and the other, myself.”

Magnus laughs at their faces, “I told him all about the Council’s request and he’s very happy to be honeypotted, as long as I keep him in the end.” 

“How exactly do you get yourself into these situations?” Ragnor asks despairingly, “just how, ducky?”

“My natural talent.” Magnus says dryly and he refills all of their glasses with hot toddy’s. Which is lovely, but suspicious. Ragnor would rather not submit himself to the burning of hot alcohol.

He sets his cup down and notes how Magnus looks disappointed. 

“You know the Council is going to be upset about this.”

“Well, then they shouldn’t have tried to treat me like I was a sex worker available at their leisure then,” Magnus murmurs bitterly. “Which would be fine, if I had ever offered them such a service.”

“What do you mean?” Cat asks, her voice like ice and Ragnor is glad she asks, because he can’t with the inferno of rage rising in him. 

Magnus looks a bit abashed, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Which means it’s something important.

Finally, Magnus sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Several of the other Council members suggested it fall to me, because between my reputation and tastes, it wouldn’t be so suspicious. Also because they felt that it would affect me less, since my tastes are so vivid and frequent, I would bounce back easier since I’m hardly going to get attached.”

It’s rare, Ragnor thinks, for their own kind to be so blinded by rumors and reputations that they misstep so poorly. However it does happen, especially when Magnus lets the rumors grow and old age can muddle the sensibility of even the wisest of warlocks.

“Oh, fuck them.” Cat says, an icy smirk on her face. “You woo your shadowhunter and you keep him and you tell the Council fuck you when they ask.”

“Now Cat,” Ragnor says chidingly, because he’s a bit disappointed in her. “That’s hardly the right response. Have some imagination.” And Ragnor’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, full of malice and teeth. “Clearly, we should simply replace the Council.”

“No!” 

 Ragnor huffs as they both say it at the same time, with alarm.

“Dearest cabbage, the last time you insisted we replace the Council for their insults it took over a hundred years. I’m still on the blasted thing because of it!” Magnus says with a scowl and Ragnor will admit, Magnus being on the Council is his fault. 

“Bloody nuisances, the whole lot of them.” Ragnor mutters sulkily into his tea. 

“Something a bit in between?” Cat asks, and even if she occasionally reigns in her  imagination, she is always the more sensible of them. 

And before they can say anything else, Magnus is getting up with surprised delight. Magnus snaps his fingers, magic throwing open the balcony doors just in time for a figure to jump over the railing and onto the balcony.

There’s no time and no need — not with Magnus sheer joy and how his wards haven’t alerted any of them — and a body barrels into Magnus. 

“Rough day, Alexander?” Magnus croons, soft and very clearly utterly in love and Ragnor shares a panicked look with Cat. They had no idea, either of them, that the relationship had already progressed so far.

Cat mouths at him, “your idea as backup.” And Ragnor nods in understanding. 

After several moments of kissing they finally part for breathing — and Ragnor could have done without the reminder of how long Magnhs can hold his breath — and the shadowhunter sees them and freezes.

Then he looks at Magnus all soulful and worried and goes, “Magnus, we’ve been caught!” And faints, a full bodied and almost elegant swoon if not for the way he drops like an anvil. 

Magnus laughs, delighted and carefree as his magic catches his shadowhunter.

“They’re friends, lovely. I would have gotten rid of them before you came through the doors otherwise.” 

And the fainted form fluidly rises, “oh thank— what was it again?”

“Fuck.” Magnus supplies helpfully, with vindictive glee.

“Right, thank fuck.” The shadowhunter, Magnus’ Alexander nods, “you’re right. It’s much more satisfying than thanking Raziel.”

And Ragnor and Cat both have to use magic to hide their shocked noises.

And Magnus, Magnus throws back his head and laughs in a way that Ragnor hasn’t seen in so long that it brings a tear to his eye. And Magnus, he then reaches out, cupping his boy’s face and pulling him in for a kiss.  

It’s soft and sweet and so intimate that Ragnor is quite sure he’s felt less like a voyeur when watching Magnus fuck people in clubs or parties. 

“I thought you had a patrol?” Magnus is practically cooing, touching his boy all over and then he hits a spot and there is a minute twitch. And then he’s wrestling his shadowhunter to the ground and uses his magic to pull his clothes off to alarmed and flailing protests.

It’s a nasty gash, and Magnus’ boy is fit enough, but it’s the blush as he glowers up  at Magnus that Ragnor notices the most. 

Magnus’ Alexander clearly doesn’t care about the audience,  he’s barely glanced at them since Magnus assured him they weren’t a threat. Instead he’s staring at Magnus, his features are fixed in a glower but Ragnor knows Magnus, he knows a pout when he sees one.

“I think,” Ragnor says telepathically to Cat, “we should retire to yours. Come back tomorrow, when we’re sure they’re done.” Cat nods and creates a portal and they both roll their eyes when all Magnus does is wave a hand behind his back at them.

“Honestly, we’re lucky he let go long enough to say goodbye.” Cat reminds him when they’re in her apartment, but she’s smiling, pleased with how happy Magnus is. 

“So, planning?” Ragnor asks and Cat gives him a wicked smirk.

“And some plotting.” 

[winterpinetrees]

The calm before the storm (The Gap Years part 17)

June 29th 2019

The elven capital

It’s been a while since I mentioned the elves. Ryn’s having a pretty good time, but he’s knows that it can’t last. I love writing stuff about my own ocs. Free serotonin.

………

Even after decades, Ryn Stormson Mercuralis is still a little surprised to receive a call from his brother. Consciously, he knows that he and his family will visit his birthplace in about two weeks. However, something in his heart can’t understand why anyone he grew up with would want to speak with a killer like him. His oldest brother, Procyon, is calling to update him on a bureaucratic mess that he’d helped to manage a few months before. One of Cyon’s mostly human descendants was expecting triplets, but ten-thousand-year-old law says that a human cannot have more than two children without explicit permission. Ryn pushed some papers around and gave them that permission, so now Cyon’s calling to say that Ryn officially has three more great (great great etc) grandnieces. 

He does the math in his head. The girls are barely even related to him at this point, with dark skin and eighty-year lifespans. If they were abandoned as changelings in the other world, they’d never suspect anything at all. In less than a decade the girls will be the same age as Fen, then they’ll age past him, and probably have children of their own before his son hits puberty. What will it be like for them to live in the world he’s making? Every Voyager for the past eight thousand years has grown up knowing that their ancestors lost the technology to leave the Earth. Ryn was told that they would someday make it back out there, but doesn’t every culture have its prophesied vision of paradise? He only dreamed of being a stormson because there were no more astronauts. 

He didn’t have to dream for long. Ryn really was the best of his harbor. He was smarter, more skilled, just better than anyone else they’d seen. He led his crew around the three capes at the bottom of the globe, sailed a hurricane by sixty, and when the scouts came to offer him an invitation to the Conservatory (more out of duty than hope that a Voyager would accept), he took it gladly and walked back into the storm. And it wasn’t like he really met his equals there either. He was the first Voyager to accept in decades, and there wasn’t a single noble who knew how to handle him. Who else could have breached an enemy castle in a hurricane, or fought while one of the Betrayed enforced a magical ceasefire? Only a stormson who had barely enough magic to spark a candle. Ishtar officially won their final wargame, but the two of them knew that Ryn deserved to share the crown.

Ryn doesn’t fight anymore. He is decades younger than Ishtar, but a human looking at them would assume he was at least a decade older. His lighter skin hasn’t been worn by salt and wind like his siblings, but he does have wrinkles from stress. Izzy is the voice and fists of their administration, Arjuna was the silent killer, and he’s the brains. The greatest Voyager in living memory manages paperwork now, and by all the stars in the night sky, there is a lot of paperwork. 

The problem is a matter of simple physics. You don’t need to be a Voyager to know that objects at rest stay at rest, and the elven world has spent four thousand years- forty generations, eight elven lifetimes- utterly stagnant. Lazarus Sondaica led an uprising and to unify the elven realm and no one’s done anything since. The nobility dream of bringing the human realm into that union like Voyagers dream of space: it’s at the foundation of everything, but also a lot of work to get started. Ishtar says that it’s a good thing that plagues have such natural momentum. Once they unleash it, there won’t be any other choices but to keep moving. The mortality rate is so high though. The Black Death in the human world led to the Renaissance, but their world is so much larger and more fragile now. Elvenkind retreated from space because their society started to collapse under it’s own weight. What if his actions drag another civilization back down to Earth?

That’s all so far away though. Ryn remembers the first time he found himself facing the worst storms in the world. There’s a moment when the sky is black with rain and the boat crashes over mountains of water where nothing is real but salt water and rope and the cold. It’s not like combat at all. Sailing the southern ocean is a matter of skill over hours and miserable days. Bureaucracy from the top of the world is about the same, just drier. He is first mate and Izzy is his captain, but no amount of experience will make the seas themselves any calmer. He’s just has to ride it out. As a spark, Ryn is more enduring than most. He hasn’t properly taken a day off since the coup, and he won’t until Moon Landing Day in another two weeks. His children have been spending a lot of time with their friends. 

Ryn accepts a cup of coffee and a stack of papers from his seneschal and walks out of his room. Marin Sondaica is still at large. He’s somewhere in Las Vegas with his betrothed, but she knows the city well enough that they can’t stage a raid without revealing magic to the human world. There’s simply too many humans around to charm their memories away. It’s infuriating to know their location and have nothing holding his forces back but their own rules. 

Several days ago, staff at the virus lab in the Nevada desert reported a mangled pressurized door and footprints in the sand. An alarm caught the broken seal quickly enough to salvage some of the samples, but there’s really only two elves within a hundred miles of the site good enough at illusions to slip in and out without noticing. And of course, there were more than two sets of footprints in the dirt. There were five. Ryn remembers human sailing crews and NASA missions and helping humans escape north along the Underground Railroad. They’d have caught the heir a long time ago if not for his servants. 

As evidence for this, the other missing heir, Kova Marolak, was finally arrested a few days before. It ended in a shootout that burned several acres of Russian steppe, but eventually a squadron brought her down. The girl has spent the past forty-eight hours howling curses at her treacherous aunt, who honestly deserves all of it. Devana is a die-hard Hunter, and views everything as secondary to keeping human hands away from shiny new inventions like nuclear bombs and the internet. The coup certainly wouldn’t have happened yet without her on the High Coucil, but Ryn can’t stand the woman. She’s a cutthroat killer who betrayed her entire bloodline, though he sort of did the same. All three of Ryn’s siblings are still alive though, so that’s a point on his side. 

Someone let slip to the rest of the family that Kova had been captured though. Ryn can’t guess whether it was as an assurance or as a threat, but little Maven has been worked up over it and that means that Chandra is sad too. His older son and Mav have been nearly inseparable, despite all the times Ryn had spoken with Ishtar and Arjuna about the fear that one would kill the other at the Conservatory. He’s seen the two boys pretend to be wolves under the watchful, dead-eyed gaze of a Betrayed guard. His son hardly flinches at the lack of magic, but Suen and Fen have been careful to stay far away. The other prisoners have been far less friendly. It’s understandable. No new regime has ever had so many enemies in custody at once, but every genus still suffered casualties in the coup. Mav’s father, both of Zerada and Jezero’s parents, and most Sondaicas older than their gap years died in combat. The list of kills has never been this short, but he knows that is an empty thing to say. If Ishtar led a coup not two hundred and fifty years after the massacre of her own family, what’s to stop his current enemies from doing the same? 

Even with their new policy (one that Gullin Eburos hates, as if that slave-trading plague doctor has any conscience at all) of training commonborn Betrayed as well as nobleborn ones, they barely have enough guards to keep their prisoners in check. Kova has been placed far too close to her old friends for his liking, but there aren’t any other options. Ryn glances out a northwest facing window as if he can see all the way to the mountains and glaciers where the heirs are being held. Ryn never had good odds of seeing his five hundredth year, even if he had chosen to live a Voyager’s life. He was raised with long-dead humans and half-elves, and expected to die young like the Voyagers of ages past. However, if Ryn wanted a glorious death, he has lived too long. He has something to hold him to the Earth now, but Marin and Zerada are still free, and the palace does not feel like home. 

He hides this doubt. Ryn has three kids looking up to him. Well, more than three kids if he counts all the other children of the allied nobility, a list that includes the blond young elf approaching him. He’s not giving Councillor Amedi Kebero enough credit. They’re a full adult, a killer, a leader, and a councilor, but he sees so much of his younger self in them. They don’t look at all alike, but he recognizes the desperation that drove him time and again into the storm. Amedi greets him and pauses by the window. The city stretches into the distance outside.

“I saw your daughter this morning. I’ve been teaching her how to shoot,” they say. Ryn notices a bit of hesitation on the word daughter. He understands. The nobility care so much about blood and he certainly had nothing to do with her prodigious magical talent. 

“I’ve heard!” he replies, maybe a bit too enthusiastically. “She’s always loved that sort of thing. Arjuna had to start training her after she kept stealing his throwing knives”.

They laugh for a moment. “I don’t know how you handle children. I mean, Suen and Hierax were on the roof a few days ago? I could hardly manage those three humans outside Vya…”

That’s true. Gens Tiercel specializes in flight magic as well as speed, and Suen did convince her friend to bring them onto the roof. They had to get the boy’s father to fly them both down.

“Children aren’t actually much like humans,” he explains. “Children are wiser, and harder to convince. Speaking of, have you managed to get any sleep? Or are you still trying to fix that spell?” He guesses the latter. The dark circles under their eyes match his.

“Some. The spell isn’t something I can fix without meeting her again. I’m just maintaining the connection and hoping for luck”. 

Their tracking spell isn’t all broken. It does just enough to keep the High Council in the loop about Marin’s movements… and keep Amedi up at all hours trying to get a connection. There’s no shame in being worse at mental magic than a Genus Adust prodigy, but, well, they chose Amedi for the council because of their focus. 

“We’ll catch them soon enough, Amedi. I’m sure Esther has been trying to get you to rest, too”. Amedi has a wiry frame that makes them look even younger than they are. Mentioning their seneschal always gets quite the reaction. Possibly too large of a reaction. 

“She has, but I have so much to do! You remember the war games. It’s not over until you’ve captured all of your opponents, even if they seem powerless”. Every noble with a vambrace carries the same memories and the same trauma. They all remember some underdog enemy from a conquered Army coming back to cause trouble when the game was almost done. It could end the reign of a student who couldn’t keep an eye on the details.

“Those late-game wildcards are actually encouraged by the Conservatory staff,” Ryn replies. Amedi cocks their head a bit to the side. “It’s part of the culture, so they pick a lone wolf with potential and support them. That sort of comeback rarely happens on its own”.

“For real? It’s rigged?”

“You haven’t looked at the records from your class yet, have you?” he asks, then hesitates. Amedi won their fourth year and did exceptionally well in all of the others. This isn’t just a shock, it could be heard as an insult. “You won by your own fitness, of course, but I think there’s some details you’d like to see”.

Amedi twists their vambrace and gives him a daring look. “Alright. Show me”.

The nobility claim that all of this is natural, but he’s seen their systems from the outside. Amedi killed another student during their Midnight Trial, but he knows that right of passage took generations to properly introduce. After all, survival of the fittest means fittest in a given environment. This environment, with Lazarus’s genera and the coups and the dead kids, is about as representative of “untouched nature” as a golf course. It was made, and it can be remade, but who among the powerful wants to admit that it’s all a lie? The High Council is made of four who do. They are a Voyager turned councilor, the too-strong survivor of a coup who reclaimed the throne herself, a gifted scientist born to the high nobility, and a traitor to her bloodline who truly sees the big picture. Perhaps Amedi will be their fifth. They’ll have to convince everyone eventually. He tells the young councillor that they have time to waste. He also tells his children that they have nothing to worry about anymore. He lies to them both.

..................

Welcome back to “Book” 1. I have finally worked out what the next bit of plot is supposed to be. Insert that “I’ve connected the dots” meme here.

An elven week is nine days and the current elf year is 4121.

The triplets are named Mary, Dorothy, and Katherine after three NASA mathematicians and engineers from the 1960s. (They’re the women from Hidden Figures.)

Elves, especially nobles, almost never have multiple children at once. Twins are very rare, but Emer and Cai Sondaica were ones. Triplets are an exclusively human thing.

[ravioli-fries]

Mission at Macridge

This is a short story I wrote of Izzy and Rills first meeting! A young Grey Deer is on one of his first patrolling missions as a Magic Knight. He meets a curious 14 year old resident of the town.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------      My pounding heart woke me this morning! …At 6:00 am. Perhaps a tad early for a meeting time of 2:00 pm, but you can never be too careful, I think! I don’t suppose I could have gone back to sleep anyways. 

     Began my day by double, triple, quadruple checking my gear. Straightening, readjusting, and rearranging my outfit. Is this okay? Maybe. No… the gray of my robe may be a neutral color fit for any palette but it sure does ruin the whole idea I’m going for. No matter. 

     I skipped happily along the hallway, energetically greeting my fellow Magic Knights and plopped myself down into a seat to begin my wait for the knights of my group to appear. 

     Today is my first scouting mission as a Magic Knight! A squad is to travel to the shore town of Macridge, a large commoner town on the edge of Noble realm. Ah, what an experience; I lived on the opposite way of the capital so I never visited. Our mission is to survey the area and reinforce peace, a noble duty. 

     I laughed to myself. 

     After a few 10 seconds of kicking my feet I dug out my pocket watch. It’s 12:00 pm… my smile faltered. How embarrassing. 

     —

     “Nearly there. Hold it together Boismortier.” called an aged woman from her broom seat, draped head to toe with exotically detailed fabric. 

    The voice of my superior, Muriel Matildale, halted the drag of my finger through my picture creation that was currently keeping me suspended in the air.

     My daydream had left me in a slight daze, my train of thought stumbled awkwardly back into reality, “Aye aye Captain! Er. I mean Miz Mentor!” bringing my hand to my heart in salute, flinging the remaining magic on my finger into my face. 

     A chuckle rose from in front of me as I wiped paint from my eye. My partners hid their smiles under their hands. I decided to laugh with them. 

    We eventually touched down in Macridge. The atmosphere instantly took me! The smell of the sea, the streets bustling with arrays of people and shops selling its environment proudly. It’s a town located near a shore and the noble realm; of course it makes its money on fishing and expands on that theme. How fascinating. There’s so much personality!

     “Muriel?” A burly Magic Knight cocked an eyebrow, raising attention and pointing towards me. 

     Muriel waved her hand “Ah let the boy have it; he’s a noble shut in. He needs this to expand his… palette.” she smirked.

     The blonde gave the woman an annoyed look. I forgot his name… what did Miz Muriel say? 

    The recent interaction left my concern as a new detail caught my eye. What a beautifully crafted sign. The noisy environment around me melted away. I’d love to meet the artist behind this; it portrays the business it’s representing clearly, and easily catches the eye. I rested my chin upon my index and thumb. Using simple and organic shapes, yet it follows a strict pattern, perfectly balancing subjectivity and objectivity. Genius! Clean woodwork as well... The polishing could have had more effort put into it…

    My thoughts were interrupted when a body collided into mine. 

    “Oh! Oh, pardon me, I was just so captivated by this sign…” 

     A young girl stood before me, with a face as if she’s never made an expression to stretch it. She seemed stiff, like a doll, yet her appearance was so fluid. A ridiculous abundance of dark curls framed her small silhouette, creating an exciting composition. I followed her beauty marks up to her striking golden gaze that contrasted gorgeously against her dark complexion. 

     I blinked rapidly. Huh?

    Without changing her expression, a steady, deep tone came from her, “That’s a sign's purpose, after all.” 

     “Ah….” I stammered. Looks like my words only wanted to reside in my mind today. 

     Her eyes flickered like fire as she looked around… that fire seemed to warm my face as well. 

    “Looks like you oughta get back to work, mister Magic Knight,” Her shawl raised with her hand in farewell, “Bye.” 

     A moment of panic filled my body as she turned to walk away. I cannot pass up this opportunity! 

    I stepped forward and clasped her hands within mine, redirecting her body to me. Her stoic expression quivered for a fleeting moment as she spun around. 

     “May I please draw you? You’re so enchanting, miss! I have to draw you! I just have to!” I flushed in embarrassment and added, “Ah… Only if you’ll allow me…” 

     Our hands fell and so did my gaze. Her eyes widened ever so slightly. 

     Standing dangerously still, the girl finally spoke, “Sure. Why not.” 

     I eagerly brought our hands to my heart and a smile stretched itself across my face. “Woohoo!” I exclaimed, “Let us find a suitable location then!”      

    A nearby shop table a ways away called me over so I obliged, happily taking my subject with me. The unforgiving sea of people along the road had me skidding to a stop every few steps. Hand in hand she kept up with my sporadic pace without a sound. I really wouldn’t be able to tell she was behind me if it wasn’t for our joined hands. 

    We seated ourselves and I equipped my sketch pad and pencil, anticipation shuddering through my fingers. I gave her a grin, which she returned with a stare I couldn’t quite comprehend. 

     “Now, hold still! Of course; it’s okay if you can’t. I can’t ask too much of a stranger I just met, ahoo hoo!” 

     To my surprise, the corners of her lips turned up so slightly. “How pretty…” I breathed, charmed.

     “You’ve got a weird laugh. It’s funny, I like it.”

     I flushed. She likes my laugh…!

     “E-Eheheh…Why, thank you, miss...” I awkwardly shifted my weight in my seat, placing my leg over the other, “Let’s get started then, shall we?” I declared, winking playfully.

     The moment my pencil hit the paper my eyes aimed for her shapes. Every detail about her was so smooth yet bold. From the adorable curve of her round face to the satisfying loops of her dark hair. 

     What a challenge… curly hair is entertaining yet difficult to pull off. The sunlight that nuzzled itself into her locks made me wish I brought some color with me. It weaved streamers of a beautiful golden brown in her hair. My hand stopped, paused, then began back up again.

     Her body was draped with a shawl that clicked together on her left shoulder. Based on the decorative piece I can assume she’s of the higher middle class. The multiple layers she wore presented itself like window curtains for her small frame. 

     The girl’s lips formed a soft line accompanied by a beauty mark. Her thick lashes and brows were also in the company of them. 

    The entire time she sat so still. She could have been mistaken for a statue. I don’t believe she blinked once since I met her… It was actually a little unsettling. Her body did not express a single emotion, so I couldn’t help but gasp softly when my gaze met her own. 

     Despite the rigid gaze of her eyes I could see them alight with thoughts and ideas. Her eyes flickered so fast to study something, I felt the need to flinch every time she shifted her attention. Suddenly I longed to know more about her other than her appearance. 

    Those big almond eyes, filled with such contemplative golden irises. This stranger. She was absolutely gorgeous. She belonged in a museum.

     I gingerly brought my sketch pad to my face, shielding anyone’s eyes from the red that burned it. My silly drawing did not do half the justice to the real her. 

     “I… I'm done drawing.” I mumbled, defeated. I uncrossed my legs and placed the pad upon my lap.

     The girl rose from her seat, “Alright. I’ll get going then.” 

     Her words knocked me aback, “H-huh?! Don’t you want to see what I drew?!” I exclaimed.

     Her blink fluttered, “Oh. Right. Hit me.” She shifted her feet back towards me. My embarrassment returned with her attention. 

     Waugh! Why did I say that?! Now I have to show her!

     I shyly lifted my sketch pad across the table to her. Instead of taking it in her grasp, she leaned over to examine it more clearly. I couldn't help but stare, mesmerized by the hair that fell over her shoulders with her subtle movement. The moment lasted a few seconds but the underlying shame clawing at my mind made it feel like an eternity. 

     The girl straightened back up and that same small smile graced her face yet again, “You got an amazing attention to detail, y’know.”

     I began to protest, “Oh… Oh but my drawing doesn’t begin to truly reflect the beauty of your overall image, I just couldn’t replicate the bold look of your eyes…” 

     Nope, wrong reaction, I thought, slapping myself mentally, “D’oh! How rude of me, I mean…! I’m sorry! Thank you! Erm… you can have it! Please!” I rubbed nervously at the brooch of my robe, “Thank you so very much for letting me draw you…! You’re like a dream…!”

      A cute laugh erupted from her, causing my cheeks to burn hotter.

     She shuffled around her cloak, then extended her hand, holding something out to me. My… my grimoire?!

     My hand flew to my grimoire bag, empty! My jaw dropped, wait, hat? When did she…

     My eyes widened. 

     The girl sighed and rubbed the back of her neck with her empty hand, “Fair trade.” Eh? Eh? Eh?! 

     Too astonished to act, I watched as she took my sketch pad and replaced it with my grimoire. She then carefully tore my drawing from the pad, placing it on top of my grimoire. 

     Her eyes narrowed and smiled with her lips, her eyes glittered with amusement. I blushed. 

     “See ya, Magic Knight.” Frozen, I watched as she stepped away from the table and melted into the ongoing traffic of people, gone without a trace.

     I brought my grimoire and sketch pad to my chest in a futile attempt to calm the furious beat of my heart. I was utterly and completely mesmerized by this thief… 

     “Well… as long as you’re done getting robbed, Boismortier.” A familiar voice sounded, followed by a hand grasping my left shoulder. My jaw agape, I looked blankly at Miz Muriel that stood at my side.

     “C'mon kid, we have work to do.” My eyes widened in realization, “Calm down! You widen your eyes any further, they're gonna pop out!” Muriel sighed through her nose, “I don’t gotta tell anyone about this. You can get robbed all you want, just don’t let it happen to others, deal?”

     I nodded wildly in agreement.

     “Alright. Let’s get going then.” I rose as Muriel started off into the crowd, and followed behind quietly, my mind racing. 

     A shaky sigh left my lips, what a first mission…

[evita-shelby]

Incantatrice

chapter 9

CW:smut🔞

Gif by @peakyblinded

“Are you sure?” In a twist of fate, it’s Eva asking him as he mentally prepares to make her his in the only way that matters.

“The things you do to me, maga.” He says and oh so carefully enters her.

Eva has done some of this before, with Antonia, but never anything like this and despite how wonderfully he prepared her for this, it still brings some pain and discomfort.

He praises her, tells her how good she feels, how beautiful she looks impaled by his cock.

He is careful not to hurt her and she is careful not to hurt him, and she thinks she’s never felt this before.

He is a wonderful man, and for a moment her worries about him turning against her don’t feel real. She’s just being paranoid; Luca would never do anything to hurt her.

She loves him, she thinks, loves him in a way she has almost no doubts about it.

“I love you.” She says once she’s recuperated her ability do more than just make pleasured sounds and saying his name.

The witch is too lost in the high of her orgasm that for a moment she isn’t afraid of rejection.

“I know, Evuccia, I know.” He groans into her shoulder.

And for a moment, everything in her life is perfect.

---

“How old were you when you went to war?” He asks as they lay there in a tangle of limbs in his, no, their bed.

She likes being held, likes feeling the warmth and presence of a human being who makes her feel loved and safe.

Anchors her to the present she thinks.

Probably why she took her break ups so badly, suddenly the person who tethered her to the world of the living was gone.

Eva doesn’t know what she’ll do if Luca ever tires of her or leaves her like everyone else has.

“Hmn?” She is too relaxed, too lost in the notion that soon this will be how she sleeps every night and wakes up every morning.

“How old were you when you joined Pancho Villa’s army?” he asks again, and she wished he’d never brought it up.

War is a beast, a beast that is never satisfied until both sides just give up and go home.

“17, there were younger kids there. There was a boy of 13 who joined because he didn’t know any other way to help his mother.” She was a kid, a stupid kid who just didn’t want to be left behind by the family she had left.

Mario had been so scrawny and short they used him as a messenger and a scout. An unassuming boy who looked like all the boys in Mexico.

He died when a snake bit him as he and the other boys with him hid from Huerta’s army.

He had only been a day short of fourteen.

Eva hates talking about her past, hates how melancholy just comes and sinks its talons into her with just a few words.

“Why do you ask?” she is curious as to why he’d dredge up things she wishes to leave in her past and forget they happened.

“Something didn’t add up, I assumed you had been older when you joined.” He answers kissing ever so lovingly the scars on her left hand, so many cuts, but the worst one was where the bullet grazed her skin.

“You’ve suffered so much; I won’t let you suffer again.” He promised and kissed her hand again, and then her wrist and then all the way up her arm until he reached her lips again.

Eva wonders if Pygmalion worshiped Galatea like this after Aphrodite made her human.

---

“So,” Izzy wiggled his eyebrows ---reminding Eva that she needs more female friends--- “was my theory right?”

Eva blushed but only nodded. She had seen many cocks, but she supposed she could see better ones and she will still be biased in Luca’s favor.

“Did you make sure he pulled out?” he asks and Eva froze.

Sure there was only a couple of weeks left for the wedding, but there were limits on how strange and ahead of the times they were allowed to be.

Couldn’t be openly queer yet, couldn’t have it known the ladies can and will be sexually active before matrimony, and most of all, not get knocked up before the wedding.

And Eva had been too lost in the her pleasure as they fucked that she didn’t tell Luca not to finish inside her.

She might as well be pregnant, her family is notoriously fertile.

Patricio will kill her.

“I’ll be married in less than a month, Israel. What’s the worse that could happen?” she is tempting fate and she knows it.

Something bad will happen, she knows it in her bones.

[jimmy3people0]

guitar hero character headcanons

axel steel - constantly gets into extremely boomerpilled twitter arguments; heart is usually in the right place, however

johnny napalm - as an oldhead british punk, was originally a male model before getting shoved into a band by one of the Top-5 Top-10 Most Evil Talent Scouts in music history; got a #1 hit in the UK about sawing elizabeth II in half hotdog style; now does commercials for greggs

midori - genuinely despises her entire persona and aesthetic and wants to get out of her contract by any means necessary; dudes with nagatoro profile pics insist otherwise

casey lynch - just extremely, unbelievably racist

lars ümlaüt - the most Reddit Wholesome Chungus 100 person in all of scandinavia, and let me tell you, that is a stacked field of contenders

judy nails - used to have a "fan"-run subreddit entirely devoted to counting down to her 18th birthday

eddie knox - has murdered at least four people

pandora - still does not understand why people burst into uncontrollable giggling fits whenever she mentions her stomp box

izzy sparks - is actually really into, like. the strokes, interpol, bloc party, etc. etc.

clive winston - was actually born in florida while his parents were on holiday and plays up his SO BRITISH facade to levels surpassing oasis thrice over to cope with the trauma

xavier stone - I can't even make jokes here dude. xavier went from being the sickest motherfucker ever in GH1 to a caricature of a '70s funk dude in GH2 to a straight up Dr. Thunder-ass hendrixlike in GH3. no man should have to suffer that fate.