#alderon's turning series

[bughollow]

Tropes

Amazing Technicolor Wildlife: Includes insects and arachnids of all colors.

Argument of Contradictions: In the Pilot Movie, Vespula initially gives Pipi seven days to save Voltara, but Pipi unintentionally argues it down to three.

Animal Talk: The insect characters are all capable of speaking to each other, regardless of their species, but never talk to humans. It's explained that they're actually Talking Animals, but they speak at a frequency which human ears can't pick up due to them being so small.

Asshole Victim: Although not killed, Venix gets repeatedly pummeled by Vespula's guards and sent to the wasp dungeon at the end of the pilot film.

Big Bad: Vespula's Wicked Advisor Venix, who desires to become the wasp king in the Pilot Movie.

Black Widow: Malia the praying mantis, who mentions the death of thirteen husbands.

Convenient Coma: Lebah is stung by the Dragon in the pilot, putting her into this until Pipi gives her an antidote for wasp venom.

Easily Forgiven: Alderon and Malia are forgiven for their actions in the Pilot Movie.

Feathered Fiend: The owl that nearly eats Pipi in the pilot.

Friendly Neighborhood Spider: Alderon starts out as a bad guy, but becomes more of a Jerk with a Heart of Gold as the series goes on.

The Hero's Journey: The beginning of the pilot film shows the normal life of a bee in Bug Hollow, and then Pipi is forced to leave the comfort of home to save her hive and rescue Princess Voltara, by facing all sorts of challenges. The snowstorm is the nadir of the journey when she and her new friends assume they're doomed, West Tisbury is the "descent to the underworld" and, when they return, Pipi saves everyone in her hive and admits that, while she may be Just a Kid, that's not so bad.

Humans Are Cthulhu: They're initially depicted as alien and inscrutable in the pilot, but they're shown to be rather decent, so more like "Humans Are the Great Race of Yith." For example, Tia, a budding young entomologist, is so impressed by the bug kids working together that she decides to help them on the return journey.

Humans Are the Real Monsters: Implied in the Pilot Movie, when Lebah describes them as unpredictable abominations, but then turned around and averted at the end when the group meets Tia. So humans can be bastards to bugs, but they're not all bad.

Jerk with a Heart of Gold: As pessimistic and brutal as he is, Alderon is a genuinely good guy deep down.

Just a Kid: Pipi gets this from nearly everyone in the Pilot. She later becomes proud of being a "kid", because she managed to Save The Princess despite nobody believing she could do it for this reason.

Meaningful Name: All the bee characters have names for "bee" in different languages.

Mouse World: Bug Hollow, located on Martha's Vineyard, is populated entirely by insects and arachnids. It consists of miniature houses built with Bamboo Technology being the norm, far from the prying eyes of humans.

Never Got to Say Goodbye: In the pilot, Paprika laments leaving home without ever kissing her parents good-bye. When Pipi's new friends are reunited with their families, it's the first thing the young dragonfly does.

Noodle Incident: "…And that's how my 13th husband died."

Ominous Owl: In the pilot film, a very intentionally creepy owl attacks the kids at one point.

One of the Boys: Paprika, who initially has only guy friends before meeting Pipi.

Pilot Movie: The series originally began with a film, which covers Pipi's metamorphosis and her introduction to Paprika's group of friends before being promoted to forager.

The Power of Friendship: On their quest in the pilot, the young bugs discover that in order to succeed, they must work together, which they eventually learn to do.

Scenery Porn: Most notably at the beginning, though the backgrounds and animation are quite lush. Even the spring snowstorm is gorgeous.

Smug Snake: Alderon is so much this. Also Venix in the pilot, before his Villainous Breakdown.

The Stinger: The pilot's closing credits show Alderon and Malia having a pleasant conversation about their lives.

Virtuous Bees: Pipi, Lebah, and most of the hive are goodhearted bees that are proud to serve their hive, though it takes a little while for Pipi to come around.

Wicked Wasps: Averted with Queen Vespula and Princess Voltara. Played straight with Wicked Advisor Venix and his assistant Quix in the pilot, though the latter reforms.

Xenofiction: From the point of view of anthropomorphically-portrayed bugs.

[knightedwriter]

Acceptance

To celebrate reaching 1,500 followers (now 2000! THANK YOU), I decided to do a mini series of the events following Alderon’s turning. This is part three of that series.

A special shout-out to both @gingerly-writing and @alittleyellowdinosaur for this part. Both of you helped me find direction for this series and got me excited about it again. THANK YOU.

[ @kai-hogan@, @alittleyellowdinosaur, @incandescent-creativity, @lux-scriptum, @kclenhartnovels, @theprissythumbelina, @polapipo, @gingerly-writing, @aesterea, @ally-thorne, @no-url-ideas-tho, @theguildedtypewriter, @abbywritesfiction, @cog-writes. If you’d like to be added to the list, please let me know! If you’d like to be taken off, please let me know too.]

[First] [Previous]

Alderon’s stomach twisted in knots. The lump in his throat grew with each step they took into the shadowy woods. He kept quiet and low, like Eliura, though he couldn’t quite match her grace as she padded through the trees. The thorny underbrush kept ripping at his stolen cloak, making him stumble with each step.

Eliura stopped intermittently to ask him questions about the scent they were following. Sometimes she gave him tips or pointers. He listened dutifully, eyes on the ground, worn out arguments still on his lips, and clinging to the desperate hope that whoever they were following would turn around and return to their village before it was too late.

His hope withered and died as the cheerful babble of a stream reached his ears, and, under it, the isolated hum of someone by the water’s edge.

Eliura stopped, mouth half-open to better catch the scent, head cocked. The breeze picked up and Alderon opened his mouth too. His heart sank as the scent they’d been following washed over him, stronger than ever.

“Hear that?” Eliura asked, voice so low that any human would need to be right next to her to catch the words.

Alderon nodded, nausea overtaking him. He thought about shouting, but at this range the human had no chance, warning or no. Not to mention, Eliura would probably rip a few of his limbs off for his troubles.

Eliura asked him to pinpoint the human’s location based on scent and sound alone. He paused only for a moment before pointing a little to their right. She adjusted his direction just a tad and nodded, smiling in encouragement. Normally, the silent praise would have had his heart soaring, but his nausea only worsened as Eliura stalked forward again, showing him the best way to place his feet to make their approach soundless.

They stopped, crouched low in a patch of bushes. Ahead of them, the human scoured clothes on a washboard, still humming. Their rough hands worked with practice and patience, and the song they hummed moved slow, loving, like a lullaby.

Eliura tapped his nose and he snapped his attention back to her. She pointed at his eyes and then to herself in a clear signal to watch closely. Alderon didn’t bother mentioning that he’d rather throw up. He’d already lost the argument that morning. Eliura wasn’t taking no for an answer, and if he didn’t glean everything he needed to know the first time, she’d likely seek out more people to hunt.

So, he watched. Watched as Eliura paced forward a few more steps before her muscles tensed. Watched as her fingers curled into claws. Watched as she darted forward, impossibly fast.

She was barely a breath of air, a skim of feet on the banks, yet still the human tensed at the last moment.

The snap of a neck yanked too hard in the wrong direction finally made Alderon flinch away. He squeezed his eyes shut as the human’s heartbeat stuttered to a stop, his breath faltering as theirs ended. Eerie silence fell over the woods.

“Hey,” Eliura said, tapping his cheek. ��Were you watching, or did you have your fucking eyes closed the whole time?”

“I was watching,” Alderon replied hoarsely. “I saw.”

Eliura studied him for a second longer, as if trying to gauge if he was lying. Then she jerked her head at him. “Come on. We have a few more things to go over.”

As they reached the water’s edge, Alderon’s eyes darted down. He regretted it; Eliura’s victim splayed on the bank, neck bent at an unnatural angle, and their feet drifting in the water. Their eyes, open wide, seemed to stare into his very soul. Their lips were parted in silent shock.

If it weren’t for the countless bodies he’d seen in the past few weeks, he might have given into his stomach’s dreadful heaving then and there. He swallowed thickly.

Eliura dragged the body up the bank, and crouched at its side, gesturing for Alderon to follow suit. “Do you remember how to make this break?” She pointed to the neck and Alderon nodded. “Good, explain it to me.”

Alderon kept his eyes on Eliura’s face as he explained it. He thought back to the first time she talked him through it, using one of the bodies she brought back to him. At the time he thought his situation couldn’t get much worse, but seeing Eliura actually do it had him wishing he could go back.

“Right. You’ll remember, too, that this requires precision. You’ll have to approach slower than I did so you don’t end up mangling the neck. Once you get more practice, though, you’ll get faster.”

As she continued to explain her stalking and killing methods—voice as easy and conversational as if she were discussing the weather—Alderon prayed for it to end. If she hadn’t threatened to starve him, he wouldn’t have come with her at all. The more she showed him, the less he even wanted to think about following in her footsteps.

“Now it’s your turn.”

The words brought his thoughts to a grinding halt and Alderon’s heart pounded against his rib cage. “No.”

“Yes,” Eliura growled, eyes flashing at him. “This is my kill. I’m not sharing with you. If you want to eat, you’ll have to find your own.”

“No. I’m not hunting people. I won’t.”

“You will. You have to.”

“Never,” Alderon spat, hands curling at his sides. “You cannot make me.”

Eliura’s hand wrapped around his throat, lightning quick and near-deadly. Her fingernails dug into his skin as she leaned forward. “You should know not to sympathize with humans. Not to trust them. You knew Zaz for years and he betrayed you in an instant.”

His breath left him all at once. “Stop—"

“He didn’t give a shit about you, and neither will any other human. They’d sooner see you dead.”

Alderon ripped himself free and leapt to his feet, chest heaving. “Don’t you dare use his name! Don’t you dare talk about him as if you know!” Rage roiled deep and hungry in his gut, spreading through his veins with each burning heartbeat. “Just because there are terrible humans out there does not mean that I should not care about killing them! Or did you forget my other friend, who gave up everything for me?”

“She was the exception,” Eliura said, infuriatingly calm. “Zaz is the rule.”

“I told you not to use his name!”

“What he did is what any human would have done.”

“It’s not what I would have done!” Alderon glared at her, bright red eyes reflecting in her own. His fingernails bit into his palms. “It is not,” he repeated, each word clipped, “what I would have done. That is what matters. Not him.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed back up the bank. He wasn’t about to give Eliura time to think of a retort.

“Get back here!” Eliura snarled

He put on a burst of speed, the forest blurring to a mix of greens and browns. Thorns still pulled at him, and his back itched, but he kept going until he couldn’t hear Eliura’s deathly slow heartbeat anymore. He slowed to a walk, listening for sounds of pursuit. Seconds ticked by in silence. Eliura didn’t reappear.

Alderon kicked hard at a rock in his path, watching it fly off into the trees. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears, his rage a roar of adrenaline-filled blood.

Zaz.

Just thinking the name sickened him. How long had they been friends? How many years had Alderon wasted, encouraging him? Fighting with him, only to make up? In the course of a single night, Zaz had broken everything they’d built up into a million, million pieces.

“Zaz don’t you fucking dare!”

Alderon’s jaw tightened. What happened to her was his fault, too, however indirectly. He’d ruined everything and Alderon hated that up until that very moment, he’d trusted Zaz with his life.

A shrill scream cut through his thoughts. Alderon jumped, gaze snapping to the terrified face of a young woman. She took a step back, a basket forgotten at her feet. Her heart thudded in his ears.

Alderon’s eyes burned as he caught her scent, and realization struck. He held up his hands as he turned his eyes back to their regular color. “I am not going to—”

“Monster!” the human screamed. “Please, help, somebody help!”

“You’re a monster now.”

“No, no, it is alright, I am not—” He took a step forward, hands still held out placatingly. The human bolted. Her screams echoed between the trees. “—not going to hurt you.” His hands fell to his sides, helplessness replacing his earlier rage.

“Now do you see?”

Eliura stepped from behind a tree trunk, eyes hard. Alderon rounded on her and took a step back in surprise.

“That,” she said, stalking forward and circling him, “is exactly what’ll happen if you try to live the way you keep insisting upon.”

Alderon glanced back to where the woman was standing, chest constricting. Her insults still rang in his ears, her utter terror still heavy in the air. Her rabbit-fast heartbeat seemed like the loudest sound in the forest. It set his teeth on edge. “What should I do?”

“Kill her.”

“I will not—”

“You know what she’ll do?” Eliura grabbed his front and dragged him down to eye level. “She’ll go straight to hunters. She’ll describe your face. Where you were. And they’ll hunt. You. Down. You’ll have to run for years before you’re free of them. If you’re free of them.”

Alderon’s breath caught and the nausea returned. He still had nightmares about the hunters who’d killed Charmeine: Their jeering voices as he pleaded for his life; their whoops and laughter as the crossbow bolt pierced Charmeine’s chest; the sneers on their faces as they told Zaz that if he turned on his friend he’d be guaranteed a position in their group. The ghostly taste of his own blood and fear filled his mouth.

“You have to kill her.”

Alderon met her gaze, his eyes bleeding back to red. He took a deep breath. “Alright.”

[knightedwritertags]

Last Line

The lovely @kitwillan tagged me for this! You get a nice sneak peek of the next part in my mini series ;)

Rules: Type the last sentence you wrote in your story/piece of writing and then tag as many people as there are words in the sentence.

Alderon met her gaze, his eyes bleeding back to red. He took a deep breath. “Alright.”

Added a few more lines so it’s not just one word ahaha. For now I’m not gonna tag anyone, but feel free to do this if you want!

[ghostphoenix-kry]

ok but like actually whats the lore w zayden like u had me @ evil like whats up whats poppin

Here wE gO

Zayden is the leader of a very large gang in the Cowboy Times, a man that keeps his position and his men in line by ensuring everyone knows he can and will snuff them and their friends out should they so much as consider turning on him.

He had a really rough childhood that he decided to run away from at a young age, only to come across an older man that was the leader of his own big gang. Young Zayden, being a shit, started cutting into this gang's robberies and spoils, taking advantage of the chaos to snag money and food. The leader of that gang, Jakob, quickly caught on and snagged him in one of these robberies, pulling him aside to warn him that should he continue to take advantage of his camp, he would find himself at the end of a pistol.

Zayden was like 13 and not taking any shit, and made a visible effort to be everywhere Jakob was. This both amused and annoyed Jakob, who eventually allowed him into the gang. Zayde worked hard around camp to prove himself of value, and found a kind of parental figure with Jakob, who took a shining to the clever little shit. Young Barone was happy for once, having a kind of family here and living semi-comfortably as the up and coming second in command to Jakob.

Then he went and kidnapped Jarius after a job gone wrong that killed off his parents, and he didn't want to leave an orphan out there, so he brought him to camp. Zayden was a good bit older then. 19 and well respected within the camp, while Jarius was a scared 12 year old boy. Zayden served as a guide to Jarius in camp, an older brother of sorts.

He taught Jarius that he would need to be strong and do his share around camp, but noted that Jakob seemed to allow Jarius off for doing far less than he thought he should. It was a mild annoyance at first, but Zayden found over time that Jakob seemed to be growing distant from him, spending more time babying Jarius. This hits the lad hard, as suddenly he is once again being left by his father figure.

He pushed himself to impress Jakob again and regain some of that attention. Performing bigger heists, strategizing incredible plots for massive hauls that would support the camp for a month. But as he came back, he felt the praise he received from the leader wasn't enough. That it was short lived and more of a courtesy anymore. Not to mention, it was clear Jakob was losing his edge. He was going soft for Jarius and letting his leash slip too much. After all, he had kept a firm hand on his own leash in the camp.

Zayden found hate in his heart, and bitter jealousy. Both of which he directed towards Jarius. As they grew older yet, Zayden continued his work in camp, ensuring he was earning his stay and earning the respect of the rest of the camp, even if he seemed to be losing Jakob's. He became colder and colder, more volatile, more cruel in nature.

It's not until Jarius makes a mistake that he believes should be punished that he snaps and decides to take matters into his own hands. During a minor robbery with Jarius, Jakob, and a couple of other members of the camp, he leads the group into a law patrol and watches as most of the men perish, being sure to keep Jarius and Jakob reletively safe.

The three soon enough manage to take out the small patrol before riding off, injured slightly from the tussle, but not dying by any means. They all hide out somewhere to let the law's hunt die down a bit, and Zayden takes advantage of this moment. Sending Jarius out to guard, leaving him with Jakob. The man who promised him all and then decided he wasnt enough after everything he tried to do for him.

He spoke quietly with Jakob for a short time, but come the end of the hour, Jakob's heart had been stopped. Zayden emerges from the hideout to spot Jarius and releases his pent up wrath in a series of harsh punches and kicks, knocking him out before tying him up and loading him onto his horse, hauling Jakob's corpse up onto Alderon before heading back to camp with the two horses in tow.

People aren't pleased to see Jakob dead, apparently killed. And when Zayden tosses Jarius down and tells the gang that he had been the one to kill him, having first led them into a patrol then killing off Jakob while they were attempting to recover, the gang goes off. They take Jarius in as a hostage, giving no argument as Zayden takes the helm of the massive gang.

The new leader ensures the old rules fall back into place. Nurturing the camp into the old state of mind. Take what can be taken, kill who need be killed, leave no loose ends. Prove yourself a traitor and you will be treated as a loose end.

With this new position, Zayden takes advantage of finally having the upper hand on Jarius. He beats the shit out of him, leaving him with scars that identify him as the property of the gang. More specifically, his property. It was not a good time for Jarius, but he soon enough managed to make his escape, lighting the camp stores on fire before bolting off with Zayden's horse. Much to said man's frustration.

With the object of his hatred escaped, he decides to add some purpose to this gang. They're not just here to survive anymore. They're here to hunt. They start moving more frequently, tracking down signs of their rogue Jaybird to bring him back.

Zayden was already sure to let it be known to any local law and gangs that they would take no interference or shit. Should someone from another gang step out of line with them, he ensures they are slain alongside their mates and family. Only after ripping the camps apart.

He is not physically the most powerful, but he is terrifyingly intelligent, and that man knew how to use his men to fight a war. A strategist and a man with few moral limiters determining what he could and couldn't do to win these "wars" of his. He prefers not to bother with children for most people, but if it's a child close to Jarius, then all bets are off. Whatever it takes to bring the man in who has been on the run for 6 years.

This said, Zayden has one hell of a leash on all of his men, and while he moves the camp into more success than they've known in a damn long time, he is brutal with any pronounced failures or acts of betrayal to him. His men respect him still, he has made their gang strong again, but while many follow him out of respect, many are following out of fear as well. Because if you're not with him anymore, than you're a problem.

And he is wickedly quick to fix problems.

TL;DR: Zayden is a leader of a gang that's let jealousy and coldness get the better of him, which he now directs on others with extreme malice, manipulation, and brutality. He is a man with power and he ensures people are well aware of it.

[scripts4dreamers]

All’s fair.

All’s fair pt. 1

AN: Maybe you’d been wrong about Theseus Scamander. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy at all.

Characters: Theseus Scamander, Newt Scamander.

Pairings: Theseus x reader Spoilers: None

Warnings: None Prompt: Could you do a Theseus x reader where he and the reader start out as really competitive (almost rivals) at the ministry but reader saves his life one day and idk he tries to protect her a lot after that and they fall for each other? (Also your Theseus series is SO GOOD OMG) for anonymous

(Ps. Thank you so much for that lovely comment! It’s messages like that that really give me the confidence to keep writing and posting, also oops! This is gonna be like twoish parts.)

----------------------------

You loved your job. You really, really loved your job. Every day when you woke up you were excited to go into the office, because you knew that what you were doing was important. You kept order, pursued justice and kept dark magic at bay. The night before your first day of auror training, you’d been so excited that you’d barely been able to sleep.

Now, nearly two years later, you were still every bit as excited.

“Hey, Y/L/N,” a voice called, distracting you from your work, “You ready to get your ass handed to you during assignments today?”

You sighed. Theseus Scamander, the one flaw in an otherwise perfect job. He was arrogant, ambitious and fiercely competitive. Unfortunately, he was also exceptionally brave, fiercely intelligent and very good at his job, nearly as good as you. He was leaning up against your desk with an infuriating smirk on his perfectly sculpted face.

“Charming as always, Scamander,” you sighed, ignoring his analytical gaze, “and I wouldn’t count your assignments before they’re handed out if I were you.”

Theseus opened his mouth, a retort ready on his lips, but the ding of the elevator cut him short

“Morning,” your boss, Avery Thicknesse, called as he swept through the room, “Y/L/N, have you got the Abbott case cleared up yet?”

“Yes sir,” you answered with a smile, jumping up to hand him the completed file, “I finished the paperwork last night.”

He scanned the page and gave a satisfied grunt, “Good work, very thorough. Scamander, same question. Have you finished the Avery case?”

Theseus blushed, and gave you a furtive look, “Uh-no, not yet, sir.”

Thicknesse gave him a disapproving look and sighed; turning back towards his office, “Get it done, Scamander. We don’t have all day here.” He chastised, “Aurors, be ready in ten minutes to receive your monthly assignments.”

The office buzzed with excitement and you turned back to Theseus with a smug smile.

“What was that you were saying about getting your ass handed to you, Scamander?” You poked, “Not so confident now, I suppose.”

“I was talking about assignments, Y/L/N.” he replied, “Being a pencil pusher is very different to actually being out there in the real world.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled, “Yeah, whatever. You’re just mad that Thicknesse is pleased with me instead of you for once.”

Theseus maintained a sulky silence next to your desk for a few moments longer, before stalking back to his own. You turned back to your work with a satisfied smile and started daydreaming about your upcoming assignments. Theoretically, no one assignment was any better or worse than any other but, in reality, the assignment you were given was generally a reflection of your standing in the office. Annoyingly, Theseus and Prewett generally got the best assignments (working in the field), with you getting the slightly more tame postings in either Observation or Research. Thicknesse said it was because he could trust Theseus to follow orders in emergency situations, while you….well, let’s just say that you’d always been more of an independent thinker.

“Alright, assignment time,” Thicknesse announced, “as you all know, we’re still focusing our attention on the apprehension of Gellert Grindelwald and his band of fanatics.” He reminded you, “So I’ll be assigning people to the Field Team, Observation, Research and Administration.” He paused, letting the suspense in the room grow, “The Field Team will, as always, be working in patrols and pairs. Patrol one will be headed by Deinard and will be made up of Deinard, O’gara and Smith, with Smith as second-in-command. Patrol two will be headed by Gibson with Dawlish as second and Bones rounding it out. Patrol three will be lead by Scamander and will include Prewett, Cattermole and Y/L/N, with Y/L/N as second-“

Your heart stopped and you instantly forgot how to listen. You’d done it! You’d finally made field agent, and as a second no less! You were so wrapped up in your little bubble of happiness that not even serving under Theseus could bring you down. You looked over to him and noticed that he’d crushed his mug. Your heart sunk a little bit at that. You knew that he didn’t like you, but you’d never thought he hated you enough to crush a mug just because you had to work together. Whatever, you thought, shaking it off. You’d made field agent and nothing he said could take that away from you.

When the assigning process had ended, you made your way over to the patrol briefing.

The senior auror, Alderon Deinard, stood and addressed you all, reminding you of your roles and assigning each patrol an area to take control of. You listened intently, soaking up every last bit of information.

“We’ve gotten word that Grindelwald has sent a signal to his followers telling them to cause mayhem tonight, which means we’re on high alert. We’re authorized to use maximum force and Travers expects results,” he explained, “so cast to kill.”

Your stomach pinched. You’d never killed another person before. You’d always found a way to take them down with non-lethal force and the idea of taking a life when there was another option unsettled you. Almost unconsciously, you looked to Theseus and saw, with a rush of relief, that he looked equally uncomfortable. He was sitting right at the front, biting down on the back of his jaw, his face stern. As though he could sense your gaze, he looked back and caught your eye. His gaze was dark and intense, completely different from the joking man who you were used to. Deinard dismissed you all and, as you made your way out of the briefing room, you felt a hand grab your elbow. Theseus Scamander was almost glaring you down.

“Can I have a word, Y/L/N?” he asked, pulling you the side before you could even answer, “Listen, I know that you’re probably really excited about finally getting in the field but this shit is real.”

“I know-“ you started, but he cut you off.

“I need to know that you’re going to listen to me,” he said, “if everything goes to hell, I need to know that I can rely on you to follow orders and get the job done.”

The look he gave you was so intense and serious that it made you swallow the sarcastic retort that you had had waiting in your throat. You had never seen Theseus so serious and, for the first time, you felt a flicker of fear in your stomach. You suddenly remembered Theseus’ first time in command. His patrol had been ambushed by a group of dark wizards and three of the five aurors had been killed, including his second. Theseus had faced an inquiry and had taken nearly a month off. You remembered how destroyed he looked when he’d returned, as though all the joy had been sucked out of him forever. He had been through hell, more than once, and yet he kept going, he kept fighting and you had to admire his strength.

With some difficulty, you met his eye, “You can rely on me Theseus,” you promised, “I know what’s expected of me, and I’ll get it done, I promise.” You maintained eye contact, hoping that he would be able to sense your sincerity, “I won’t let you down.”

In the ensuing silence, you felt a tenuous connection form between you and your workplace rival. Underneath all your mutual peacocking, there was an understanding. At your cores, you wanted the same thing, and you respected Theseus both as an auror and as a man. Theseus studied you intensely, searching for something in your eyes.

He must’ve found it because, eventually, he let your elbow go and gave you a curt nod, tucking his hands into his pockets, “I know you wont Y/N.”

You smiled, trying to break the tension, “Aw, sweet, you know my first name.”

“Oh ha, ha,” Theseus grinned, “don’t go getting a big head now. We’ve still got to work together and there’s not enough room in here for both of us and your inflated ego.”

You laughed and, for a moment, your rivalry seemed to fall away. It felt nice to be laughing together instead of at one another, you thought.

“Go home and get some rest Y/L/N,” Theseus suggested when the laughter had faded, “We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

You nodded and worried at your bottom lip, the flicker of fear reigniting itself in your chest. Theseus noticed and gave you, what he hoped was, a comforting smile.

“It’s going to be fine Y/N,” he assured you, “chances are nothing will even happen.”

-------------------------

You hit the wall, ducking behind a corner as a burst of green light missed you by centimeters. Your heart was pounding and adrenaline was pumping through your veins at one hundred miles an hour. Grindelwald’s followers had, indeed, come out in full force that night and they’d quickly overwhelmed you with sheer numbers. The sound of rebounding curses and hoarse voices filled the night air, filling up the narrow street. You desperately searched for your allies with your eyes, catching sight of Helena Cattermole, hiding down an alleyway and Theseus crouched behind an overturned car in the middle of the road. Four patrols had started off the night together with fifteen fully trained aurors. From what you could see, only five of you were still in action. You’d helped three escape down the back roads, sending them back to the ministry for help. It had been nearly twenty minutes since then and the fanatics had you pinned down. You couldn’t even apparate out without exposing yourself to danger.

For a moment, there was silence. The remaining aurors had hidden themselves so well that Gindelwald’s fanatics had nothing to aim their wands at. In your mind, you heard Theseus’ voice as he’d grabbed you and shoved you behind him, once it was clear that you were outnumbered.

“Get out of here,” he cried over the din, “get the others and get out. I’ll hold them off.”

Your stomach pinched with guilt. You’d promised to obey his orders but, you were his second, you couldn’t just leave him there to drown, so you’d stayed and he’d noticed. From his position behind the car, you could feel his cool blue eyes on you. The dark wizards, led by Carrow and Kraw, started to advance slowly, searching for the remaining aurors. Their numbers were greatly depleted, credit for which both you and Theseus had a rather significant claim. They were slowly approaching the car, behind which Theseus was hiding, but you didn’t think they’d spotted him yet. Unfortunately, it didn’t look as though Theseus had noticed them either.

His eyes were still fixed on you and you could tell that he wasn’t at all pleased. You watched, horrified, as he raised himself, preparing to move to a more defensible position. He was still mostly hidden, but you shook your head frantically, knowing that any step he took would expose him to Carrow, who was making her way closer and closer. Theseus didn’t notice and he stepped out into the street, hunched over and still half in a crouch.

It was as though everything slowed down. Carrow’s face lit up, she raised her wand and began to mouth a curse that you knew, with overwhelming certainty, that Theseus would never have enough time to respond to and block. At the same time, you knew that you needed to be closer in order for your spell to be strong enough to override hers and that, as soon as you stepped out, you yourself would almost certainly be killed. There was no time for hesitation. You thought about Theseus, his joking smile and his commitment to justice and made your choice.

You stepped out from behind the corner. Theseus saw you and his eyes widened, he opened his mouth to call to you but, before any sound made it, out you screamed “Protego!”

Carrow’s killing curse rebounded, glancing harmlessly off the car, and giving Theseus enough time to reach his wand and disarm her. You felt a momentary pang of relief, heard a rough voice yell something twisted and cruel, saw a flash of purple flame, felt a sharp pain in your chest and the world went dark.

Your first thought was that death was extraordinarily comfy. Your second was that, to your surprise, you were breathing which meant that you couldn’t be dead. The third was that your chest felt like it had been kicked in by a hippogriff. Slowly, you opened your eyes and found yourself staring at a pristine white ceiling. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see someone hunched over in a chair next to your bed, his head hanging low and his hands clasped together as though he was deep in prayer. You were lying in a hospital bed at St Mungo’s, you realized, which meant that, somehow, you must’ve escaped from at alleyway. The battle, Theseus and the other aurors. You sat up suddenly and winced. Your body ached, as though you’d been crushed by something heavy. The noise had, however, made your visitor aware that you were awake. Theseus’ head snapped up and grabbed your arm, supporting you as you struggled into an upright position and fluffing the pillows behind you so that they supported your back.

“Thank God you’re awake,” he croaked, his voice hoarse, “I was starting to think-“

“Theseus?” You asked, still groggy from sleep, “What happened? How did we-“

He looked exhausted, as though he hadn’t slept in days, and his clothes were rumpled and untidy, but his eyes were alive with relief, “Help came. Ogden and Peakes made it back to the ministry and let them know that we were pinned down,” he explained, “Carrow and Kraw escaped, but we managed to round everyone else up without too many casualties.”

“Casualties?” you asked, your heart dropping, “who did we lose?”

Theseus’ face darkened, “Edgecomb, Fenwick, Suzuki and-“ he swallowed hard, “and Deinard.”

“Deinard?” you asked, tears welling up in your eyes, “No, no it can’t-he can’t.”

“Kraw got him in the chest with a killing curse,” Theseus explained, his voice dead, “he didn’t stand a chance.” You sat in silence for a moment, each of you lost in your own memories of the hardened auror who’d taught you both so much. Eventually, Theseus cleared his throat, and fixed you with an intense stare, prompting you you wipe the stray tears from your cheeks, “Y/N,” he started, “I told you to leave.”

“I know but-“

“I told you to leave,” he continued, “and you stayed. You disobeyed a direct order from your commanding officer and, because of that, I owe you an apology.” He said. You frowned, confused, but Theseus gripped your hand in his and squeezed it tight, “I’ve made your life miserable since the day we met and you still defended me. I was your commanding officer and I led you into danger and I’m so so sorry. If you hadn’t been there, I would be dead. You threw yourself into harms way, you risked your life and you saved mine.”

You blushed, oddly embarrassed by the intensity of the moment, “You would have done the same for any of us.”

Theseus shook his head but didn’t let go of your hand, “You could’ve died, all because I was too stupid to watch my own back.”

“Theseus,” you insisted, sitting up straighter, “we were outnumbered and pinned down, people were dropping like flies all around us, it was chaos. What you did was smart, you were trying to move to somewhere more defensible. Any one of us probably would’ve done the exact same thing.” He opened his mouth to argue but you cut him off, some of your old fierceness coming back, “No, Theseus, stop. You are a brilliant auror. I wouldn’t be surprised if they made you head of the whole department soon enough. You made one, simple mistake that anyone could have made and I will not have you beating yourself up for it, okay?”

There was a long silence, during which you noticed, for the first time, how startlingly blue his eyes were. Eventually Theseus nodded and you relaxed back onto your cushions, grateful for the reprieve. To your surprise, he didn’t leave, preferring to lean back in his chair and chat to you. Theseus stayed for hours, catching you up on the tings you’d missed and talking about everything and nothing, from school memories to his fears for his brother, until eventually the nurses had to ask him to leave because visiting hours had long since ended. Grumpily, he stood and pulled you into a gentle, but firm hug, thanking you again and promising to come back as soon as he could before waving goodbye and disappearing out into the world again.

You were stunned. Never before had Theseus Scamander had an actual conversation with you, let alone given you a hug. As you laid back down to sleep, though, and quietly grieve the loss of your comrades you realized that you’d enjoyed it. You liked him, when he was being himself and, as you drifted off to sleep, you wondered if, maybe, you’d made a new friend.

Theseus insisted on coming to visit you every day and bringing you a different present each visit, no matter how many times you told him that he didn’t need to. The nurses had asked you if they ought to tell him to back of, but you’d waved them away. Theseus was sweet and gentle with you and, as much as you hated to admit it, his visits had fast become the highlight of your day.

By the time you were discharged, nearly a week later, you were weighed down with gifts and, somehow, had acquired a new best friend, a best friend who, luckily, was there to help you carry your litany of gifts. Theseus was kind, you’d realized, and funny with a penchant for physical contact that made you laugh. You’d commented once, that you’d received more hugs in two days, from Theseus Scamander than you had from your mother in the past year. You remembered how he’d blushed and apologized, swearing to do that less, before you’d cut in and told him that you liked it, you thought it was sweet. Now, as he walked you back to your apartment, he seemed to be treating you with extra caution, insisting on holding your hand every time you crossed a street and double checking each side road for danger. You would never tell him, of course, but it helped. Ever since the night of the ambush, you’d been terrified of running into Grindelwald’s followers again and you’d started to have powerful, vivid nightmares.

Upon arrival, Theseus searched your apartment before letting you in and then helped you unpack and rearrange your belongings, so that your bed now faced the door, before giving you another hug and waving goodbye, apparating you and leaving you on your own. The second he was gone, you missed him terribly. You sat down on your couch and looked around your apartment. It seemed smaller, you thought, less vibrant, without Theseus in it and, for the first time since your accident, you felt well and truly alone.

[parkspring4-blog]

The Color Man

I am really surprised I did not get the living hell beat out of me based on the following misunderstanding at a local bar in my neighborhood. I was enjoying a taste while watching some playoff football and a conversation was struck up between myself and the gentleman sitting next to me at the bar. Finding out he was a big Mets fan, and myself being a huge Cardinals fan, the conversation predictably turned toward the 2006 National League Championship Series.

This really did not turn into an issue. Cardinal fans are a lot like the people of Alderon, we are peaceful and we have no weapons. We had a nice debate about the series and the conversation was amicably pleasant. A few days before, I was listening to sports radio hosted by one of the Mets play by play broadcasters (Howie Rose) and for the life of me I could not think of his name but I wanted to quote something he had said. So not being able to remember, I ask the Mets fan what the name of the Mets color commentator is. Mets fan's eyes go wide open as he declares "Dude, I don't know!". Thinking that was an odd response I ask again, "so you don't know the name of your color man?" Again he states he does not know and he asks me why that would even matter. Now I am the one getting mad and I tell him, "well it matters because I was trying to quote him and all I know is he is the Mets color commentator and I can't believe your such a big fan and would not know the answer to that. "

At this point the Mets fan stands up, slams his drink down on the bar and looks at me and says "I will say it for the last time, I am not aware of any 'colored's' that broadcast for the Mets" before walking away from the bar. First of all this is the point in the story I should point out two things. The Mets fan I had been chatting with is indeed at least partially African American, and secondly had never heard the term "Color Commentator" before which I shall define:

'A color commentator, sometimes known as a color analyst, is a member of the broadcasting team for a sporting event who assists the play-by-play announcer by filling in any time when play is not in progress. '

It took me about 20 seconds to fully grasp what had happened. When it hit me, in all honesty the first thing to come out of my mouth was "Wait, I'm not a racist!!!" Wow, Michael Richards would be proud.

I immediately bring the bartender in to the conversation to back me up that there was indeed a term called "color commentator". After much persuasion from the bartender and myself the Mets fan finally pauses and says "Oh, I get it.... he brings color to the conversation....you mean Howie Rose?". Yes.... Yes.... Yes.... Howie Rose, indeed he brings color to the conversation. Thank You.......

So the conversation once again returned to civility for at least the next 20 seconds until I asked him

"So, do you think Beltran has taken the bat off of his shoulders yet?"

Source: https://midwesternerinnyc.blogspot.com/2007/01/the-color-man.html

[knightedwriter]

Secrets of the Suffering

To celebrate reaching 1,500 followers (now almost 2000!), I decided to do a mini series of the events following Alderon’s turning. This is part two of that series.

[@kai-hogan, @alittleyellowdinosaur, @incandescent-creativity, @lux-scriptum, @kclenhartnovels, @theprissythumbelina, @polapipo, @gingerly-writing, @aesterea, @ally-thorne, @no-url-ideas-tho, @theguildedtypewriter, @abbywritesfiction, @cog-writes. If you’d like to be added to the list, please let me know! If you’d like to be taken off, please let me know too.]

[First]

Fingers curled into his hair, stroking. Always stroking.

Alderon looked up into the vampire’s red eyes and gulped at the hunger he saw there. Foolish. He’d been so foolish to think the mysterious traveler held the key to his happiness. Cradled in the man’s arms, Alderon wished he’d listened to Charmeine. He shouldn’t have been so desperate to find someone.

“Don’t worry,” the vampire soothed, flashing sharp teeth that made Alderon’s stomach flip. “It doesn’t hurt that much.”

Alderon’s mouth went dry. What didn’t hurt? The bite? He swallowed hard, lips trembling. “Please.” He had no pride as he let the word drop. He just wanted those hands away from him. He just wanted to go home.

The vampire hushed him, brushing icy fingers over his cheek. Ice that he’d never questioned before, that he’d been too blinded to notice. He flinched, squeezing his eyes shut. Tears threatened to fall and his mouth felt like cotton and he wanted to scream but his voice was too choked to do so.

“No, no, no,” the vampire whispered, pressing cold lips to his forehead. “Don’t cry, my sweet. It’s not so bad. The turning is the worst part. You’ll get used to everything else.”

Turning? Alderon opened his eyes, mouth working around the question.

The vampire smiled gently; a smile that had drawn him in, promising something new, something exciting. “That’s it.” He patted Alderon’s cheek. “You’ll make a fine vampire.”

“No,” Alderon choked out before he could stop himself. “You can’t—I—” He wasn’t sure how this was so much worse, but it was.

The vampire cocked his head, smile gone. “Didn’t you say you wanted to be with me? That you wanted to go on adventures? What greater adventure, then?” His fingers moved to Alderon’s neck, freezing now. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll take care of you.”

He leaned forward and Alderon screamed as fangs pressed against his throat.

Alderon cried out and scrambled up. His heart throbbed against his chest. His senses jolted with electricity, insisting on danger, but when he looked around he found nothing aside from a silent night layered under the impassive gleam of stars.

He put a hand to his chest and gasped for breath, ears still ringing from a distant scream.

“Still having those nightmares?”

Alderon jerked his head up and found Eliura perched on the lowest branch of a nearby tree, her scarlet eyes bright pinpoints in the dark. He broke eye contact with a shiver. They reminded him too much of the vampire in his dream.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Eliura continued. Her eyes jumped back to their usual electric blue as she shifted to face him.

“Are you going to tell me to get over it?” Alderon snapped. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to tear into something. No, someone. He shook the thought away.. What he didn’t want was Eliura condescending to him.

“No.” When Alderon glanced up in surprise, she continued, “I had my fair share of them after I turned, and my turning wasn’t even close to as bad as yours was. So, I get it. Partly.” She hopped down and stretched, arms rippling with muscle. She eyed him again. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“What is there to talk about?” Alderon muttered, drawing his knees to his chest. “It is nothing new.” He’d already told her everything that had happened to him the day they met. He hadn’t had time to think about what he’d wanted to share or not: She’d shaken him and flashed her eyes and demanded answers, and they spilled obediently from his bloodied lips while his body shuddered and burned.

“Don’t give me that. Clearly it still bothers you. Talking will help.”

“Do not act like you care about me,” Alderon spat, his rage boiling up his throat before he could control it. “You do not give a shit what I’ve been through.”

"Oh, and you’re so sure about that, are you?” Eliura snarled. She stalked forward, hands curled into fists. Alderon froze under her stare. “I drag you out of the dirt, tend to your wounds, teach you to survive, but of course, you’re right, I don’t really care. How could I? It’s not like I’ve been through anything similar. Not like I’ve done the same for thousands before you.”

“Eliura—”

“You think you’re the only person who’s been through tragedy? The only one who’s lost someone? You’re not the center of the goddamn universe!”

“I know that—”

“Then it’s time to start acting like it. You’re so stuck in your past that you’re convinced I’m the enemy. But the truth is, I want you to survive. For yourself, for the friend you lost. I doubt she’d want to see you like this.”

Alderon sucked in a breath, pain needling into his chest as if Eliura had driven a dagger into his heart. He tried to find the words to defend himself, but when he looked up he saw Charmeine standing in Eliura’s place. Ice slid into his veins. The specter disappeared in a blink, but not before the dagger twisted in his chest.

“You shouldn’t be so quick to give your heart away. You’re enough.”

“You’re not broken. Neither of us are.”

“Now, now, I’m not letting you sulk. You gotta march over there and give Zaz what-for.”

“I want you to learn,” Eliura continued, dropping a heavy hand onto his shoulder, “because you have as much a right to live as anyone else. And I will do anything to ensure you have that chance. What part of that tells you I don’t care?”

Alderon’s lips pulled down and he couldn’t quite meet her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

She glared at him a moment longer before her pinched look softened. With a shake of her head, she said, “I’m sure you are. I’m much too old for this shit, you know. Not like it doesn’t happen every time I take on a new student.”

“It…does?”

Eliura snorted. “You’re not the only one to go through hell. Not the only one to have a close friend die for you, either. Or to go through such a shitty betrayal.” He flinched, and she sighed again. “I’ve been at this for two thousand years. Trust me, I’ve seen it all.”

Alderon’s eyes widened. Did she just say two thousand? Three weeks, almost four, and she hadn’t said a thing about her age. He’d assumed she was a few centuries old—old enough to teach what she’d learned—but two thousand?

"You’re—you’re an Anc—”

“Don’t call me Ancient,” Eliura snapped. “It’s just plain rude.”

“I did not know.”

“I’d be surprised if you did. I was supposed to stop aging.”

“But why didn’t you tell me? I—I might have—”

“What, started respecting me more?” Eliura’s lips quirked up, a gleam in her eye. “As flattering as that is, I have a counter question: Why didn’t you ask?”

Alderon opened his mouth and then closed it just as quickly.

Eliura hummed, as if in agreement. “Right. Well, now that you’re done lashing out, I expect you to ask lots of questions. It’s the mark of a good student.”

She looked at him expectantly and Alderon swallowed hard. Sheepish, he asked, “So…just how powerful is an Ancient?”

Eliura flapped a hand, a look of disdain crossing her face. “Just as powerful as you, idiot. Don’t tell me you actually believe in all those rumors about us?” When Alderon just stared at her, she ran a hand down her face. “Everything you’ve heard about Ancients? Made up by hunters. With the exception of fae—who knows how the fuck they work—ancient immortals, or near-immortals, are every bit the same as a baby immortal.”

“Why would hunters make that up?”

Eliura shrugged. “Fear. Control the masses. Make the commoners think hunters should have as much power as possible. It’s working, I’ll tell you that much.”

Alderon avoided her gaze, looking to the stars above. The talk of hunters brought his dream to mind again. He clamored to stamp out the memory, focusing hard on the swirling constellations above, and on his next question. “You said you’ve been doing this for a long time. Why? Why do you teach new vampires?”

“No one did it for me and I wish they had.”

Alderon glanced back at her and met fiery eyes. They were a deeper, darker red than those of the vampire who turned him, he realized. “That’s all?”

Eliura shrugged. “It’s true. If I’d had someone—” She cut off and gritted her teeth. “If I’d had someone, things would have gone better. So, I’ll be that person. I’ve always liked teaching, anyway.”

“Did…did you deal with hunters too?”

She barked out a laugh and clapped him on the shoulder. “They didn’t exist back then. That was the life. Today’s vampires deal with a lot more danger with hunters around. That’s another reason I take them on.”

"Then what happened when you turned?” Alderon asked, rubbing his shoulder. Eliura had hit him a lot harder than he’d expected. He stopped when the silence between them stretched, glancing up to find the fire and amusement in Eliura’s eyes gone. He started at the emptiness in them and reached out a tentative hand to shake her shoulder. “Eliura?”

She blinked and focused on him again. “People turned on me. That’s all.”  He wrinkled his nose in disbelief but asking her outright seemed dangerous. He supposed even a two thousand-year-old vampire had her secrets. Still, that dead look in her eyes…in that moment, she seemed more human to him than ever.

“Any other questions, student of mine?” Eliura said with a sweep of her arm. Her eyes danced with light again and she gaze him a lazy look, as if she expected him to jab back.

Earlier, he might have, but the usual irritation didn’t come to him. Instead, he thought hard about what he wanted to ask next. Eliura was like a treasure trove of new information. Why hadn’t he done this earlier? He hadn’t felt this kind of excitement since the last book he’d picked up, weeks ago.

He opened his mouth to ask something else but stopped at the smile on Eliura’s face. “What?”

She shrugged. “Nothing. Just seems I found something to work with.”

Alderon scowled and crossed his arms.

“Fine, save your questions.You should sleep, anyway.” She stood and returned to her tree. Before she climbed back up, however, she stopped with her hand on the bark, and glanced back over her shoulder. “If you want to talk about that nightmare, I’m here.”

Alderon hesitated. It was almost tempting, but he answered her with a shrug of his own. “Like I said. It is nothing new.”

Her eyes bored into him, their bright electric blue lighting up the night. Then she turned away and hopped back up onto her branch. Her gaze returned to the forest.

Alderon laid back down and closed his eyes.

“How’s your back?” Eliura asked suddenly.

He frowned over at her. “Alright. It did not open up at all today.”

“Good.” Red eyes found his, unreadable. “I think I know what we’re going to do tomorrow.”

[knightedwriter]

I forgot i scheduled to post the next part today...u guys alright?

[knightedwriter]

No Longer Human

To celebrate reaching 1,500 followers, I decided to do a mini series of the events following Alderon’s turning. This is the first part in what will probably turn out to be a long series, knowing how I write. However, it might help to read what I consider the prologue. This ask I did is also relatively important, though not necessary to read in the long run. I hope you enjoy!

[@kai-hogan​, @alittleyellowdinosaur I believe the both of you shouted that I should do this? Also tagging @lux-scriptum, @incandescent-creativity, @kclenhartnovels, @theprissythumbelina, @polapipo, @gingerly-writing bc I think you all would be interested. If you’d like to be added to the list, please let me know. If you want to be taken off, that’s alright too! I can also change which blog of yours I tag, if anyone wants me to.]

“Focus.”

“I am.”

“Then do better.”

Alderon gritted his teeth, jaw cracking with the pressure. Easing up a little, he closed his eyes and breathed in again.

The world burst to life around him: A tangle of scents, wild, colorful, and much too numerous to even begin straightening out. Alderon’s brow furrowed as he tried to focus in on just one, but it was like untangling a knot made up of thousands of different strands, all while someone kept adding and rearranging the strands each second.

Just as the others faded into the background, a new scent assaulted his senses, taking his attention away from the one he’d selected. The scrape of bone on bone—his teeth rubbing together—demanded his attention as well, the sound much more detailed than he was used to: The wet slip of his saliva as his teeth moved, the creaking of his jaw, the twanging vibration of his muscles, even. He never knew he made so much noise.

“Stop, stop, stop.”

Alderon opened his eyes and, realizing how tight his face had gotten, rubbed at his cheeks. “I do not understand how to do this.”

“Clearly,” Eliura said, eyes flickering to scarlet and then back to their startling blue. “You don’t make a good vampire.”

“Well excuse me,” Alderon snapped. “If I had a choice in the matter I wouldn’t be one.”

“Don’t fucking sass me. I said that to make a point.” She stepped forward, her fur-covered cloak swishing with the movement. “You think,” she tapped the top of his head despite having to stand on tiptoe to get there, “too much. It holds you back.”

“What, so I just stop thinking? Why didn’t I think of that?”

“You keep sassing me and I’m gonna rip your arms off and make you sit on them. Just shut up and listen. That’s what apprentices are supposed to do.”

Alderon resisted the urge to say that he didn’t ask to be her apprentice. He had no doubt her threat was real, and he really didn’t want to find out how fast his arms regenerated anytime soon.

“You don’t think yourself into tracking a scent,” Eliura continued, circling him. “You let it happen.”

“Helpful,” Alderon gritted out.

“Get used to it. This isn’t about memorizing a set of steps or about what you knew before. This is completely new. You’ll have to learn as a babe learns: by shitting yourself along the way.”

Lovely. Eliura’s vulgarity never ceased to amaze him. Charmeine had been the same way, always—

Alderon sobered a bit, back itching as he looked away. His throat closed, so he couldn’t reply. Just as well, given that Eliura was already irritated with him.

Eliura sighed. “Take a break. Clear your head.”

Relieved, Alderon walked over to nearest tree and sat at its base. He tried to lean against the trunk, but the slight pressure made his back sting, so he crossed his legs and bent forward instead.

“That cut still bothering you?” Eliura asked. She sat against an oak across from him, arms crossed, head back, and eyes closed. Alderon wondered how she even knew he’d readjusted because of his back.

He grunted, running a hand through his hair. The wound had barely healed, despite a full week of vampirism. Eliura had explained that it probably never would—at least not as it should. It would become a scar, if anything. Alderon was learning that such an “imperfection” was not unheard of in vampires, depending on how they turned. Given that his turning was particularly difficult—he shuddered to remember those feverish three days—he was lucky the scar was healing at all.

“You need more blood.”

“I don’t,” Alderon said swiftly. When Eliura cracked open an eye to glare at him, he hurried on, “I am not hungry. Besides, you said it would take a long time to heal completely.”

Eliura sniffed, obviously unconvinced. “Fine then. Take your shirt off.”

“What?”

“I’m going to check it. The least we can do is keep changing out those bandages.”

Alderon hesitated a moment longer before pulling off his shirt. His cheeks burned, and he kept his gaze fixed on the grass as Eluria stepped around him. She peeled back the bandages one by one, her touch gentle. It still stung. Alderon flinched as she pulled off the last of it; the dried blood had glued the cloth to his back, and ripping it away was like ripping off a piece of his skin.

Eliura pulled in a breath and let it out slow. “Still smells like silver.”

“Silver?”

“From the blade. It had to have been silver.”

“Oh,” Alderon murmured, thinking of a sword glinting in torchlight. He pushed the memory back. “Is that why it hurts so much?”

“No,” Eliura said dryly as she applied something sticky to his wound. “It hurts because it’s not healed.”

For once, Alderon didn’t have the fight to snap back. “Will it ever stop?”

“Hurting? Yes. It’ll always be sensitive, though.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s human flesh on a vampire body.”

“What?” Alderon said, twisting to look at her. “How do you know that?”

“It’s not healing the way it’s supposed to. I’ve seen it before. Some wounds are too deep for the transformation to change.” She started to wrap him up again. “Blood would help, you know.”

Alderon’s hands tightened into fists.

“You can’t avoid it forever.”

“I will not be a murderer.”

Eluria yanked on the bandages and Alderon yelped. “Then you will die! How many fucking times do I have to tell you? This is your life now. The sooner you get used to it, the better.”

“I did not ask for this.”

“Well too damn bad!” Eliura growled. She stalked around to stand in front of him, lips pulled back to show her fangs. “When I found you, you told me you didn’t want to die. This is how you live. You can’t go back. Just accept it.”

Alderon drew his knees to his chest and looked away. He hated how his lips trembled.

Eliura ran a hand down her face. “I took you on to teach you how to survive. The world won’t be kind to you. You need to let these…human morals go, or you’ll be ground into the dust.”

“I am human. I was. I am not going to just forget that.” Alderon glanced up at her, searching her face for some sort of understanding. “Why must I kill? Can’t I just—”

“What? Bite them and only take a little? You think people will just lay down and let you do that? You’ll leave a trail leading straight to you.”

“As if bodies do not leave a trail.”

“At least dead people don’t talk. Bodies don’t clue hunters in to what you look like, or which way you went.” Eliura crouched down next to him. There was nothing gentle in her eyes as she considered him, though she did lower her voice. “Humans will take your kindness and shit all over it the first chance they get. You should know this. You’ve seen it firsthand.”

“Don’t,” Alderon breathed, clutching harder at his knees.

Eliura paused, head cocked. "You’re young. I’m giving you an easy way to learn this. Better take it before you learn the hard way.” When Alderon didn’t reply, Eliura stood and walked away without another word, her bright red hair flicking almost dismissively at him.

Alderon dug his fingers into his knees, trying to ignore the incessant rumbling in his stomach. He was sure Eliura could hear it, too. Not that he cared. She may have convinced him to drink from the bodies she’d brought him after he’d turned, but that didn’t mean her way of life was the only way.

He wished Charmeine were with him. She’d make him smile and give him direction; she’d work with him. Instead he got saddled with a centuries-old vampire who’d long since forgotten what it meant to be human. What it meant to be new to this.

His heart ached as thoughts of Charmeine turned to the night he’d left his home for good. Luckily, Eliura’s voice cut through the memories.

“Rest time’s over. Let’s get back to it.”

[knightedwriter]

you all are in for a RIDE in part two, I hope you know

[knightedwriter]

Garrick’s Bday

Alright, so it’s not actually Garrick’s bday (he won’t tell me when it actually is), but I wrote a little something about it. As context, he just Alderon that it was his birthday (he’s turning 27) and Alderon kinda responded weirdly, and then disappeared on him. This is before the deal ended.

I’m tagging the people I have on my turning series tag list. If you’d rather I not tag you for other things, please let me know.

@kai-hogan, @alittleyellowdinosaur, @incandescent-creativity, @lux-scriptum, @kclenhartnovels, @theprissythumbelina, @polapipo, @gingerly-writing, @aesterea, @ally-thorne, @no-url-ideas-tho, @theguildedtypewriter, @abbywritesfiction, @cogwrites, and @dreamsofbooksandmonsters.

“Alderon?” Garrick called, leaning as far out the manor door as he could while keeping both feet inside. “Alderon?”

He waited for a moment, eyes straining to catch any flicker of movement. When none was forthcoming, his frown deepened. He bit at his lip, trying to decide if he should risk stepping out of the manor. If Alderon wasn’t answering, he was either too far out to hear—which Garrick thought unlikely—or had his nose stuck in a book somewhere, completely deaf to the world around him.

Or in trouble.

Garrick shook his head at the automatic worry that surged in his gut. It was far too early to suspect foul play. And even if that was the case, he should be hopeful, not worried. Alderon’s death would mean his freedom.

The thought didn’t relieve his tension. Staring out at the courtyard, Garrick wished he’d catch sight of a familiar cloak, or hear a deep voice answer his call.

A stiff breeze made him shiver and finally close the door. He returned to the ballroom and sat on the steps, still frowning.

His only option was to wait. If Alderon wasn’t back by sunset, he reasoned, he should at least check the courtyard. Alderon couldn’t fault him for looking within the manor’s property. Stepping beyond the gates was out of the question, so hopefully Alderon was just around the corner. If he wasn’t…

Garrick sighed. He didn’t know what he’d do. Alderon wasn’t the most comforting presence, but the manor without him was a lonely place. And if Alderon was hurt or dead somewhere, Garrick didn’t know how he’d even figure that out. The thought made the knot in his stomach tighten.

A creak echoed down the hall. Garrick half stood at the sound of the manor door closing, heart thumping in his ears. When Alderon appeared, cloak and all, at the entrance to the ballroom, the worry in Garrick’s stomach dissipated. He bore no injuries and held a book in his right hand.

“There you are,” Garrick said, adopting a relaxed smile despite the remaining tension in his shoulders.

Alderon blinked. “I heard you call. What is the matter?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t know where you were. You’ve been gone for hours.”

“I was in the woods. If there is nothing you need me for, I will return there.”

“Wait,” Garrick called as Alderon made to leave. Alderon raised an eyebrow at him. Was it his imagination, or did he seem a little off? His answer was certainly more clipped than Garrick had expected. Garrick frowned and started to close the distance. He stopped, surprised, when Alderon took a step back. “Why are you reading out there?”

Alderon shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. “I simply felt like it.”

“You’ve never done that before.” When that didn’t get him an answer, he continued, “Can I go with you? I’d like to spend some time outside.”

“I do not think that is a good idea. You should stay here and take some time for yourself.”

“I’ve had hours to myself,” Garrick pointed out. “And I don’t really like it. This place is too big for one person.” He frowned again and stepped forward. “What’s really going on?”

Alderon hesitated, but then squared his shoulders. “It is nothing. I simply thought you would enjoy some time alone.”

“If I’d wanted time alone I’d just spend it in my room. Besides, you’ve never worried about that before. Why are you being so weird?”

“I am not,” he insisted. “I just…” He stopped, face scrunching in a way that told Garrick he was gathering his thoughts. His eyes darted to and fro, not quite meeting his. “I merely thought that…as it is your birthday…the best gift I could give you was my absence.”

Garrick blinked, and blinked again. The notion seemed so ridiculous—so ironic—that he wanted to laugh out loud. But he could tell from Alderon’s pointed look over his shoulder that he was being quite serious.

“You don’t have to get me a gift,” Garrick blurted out, not quite sure he trusted himself to say anything else without stirring the tight knot of anger that had formed in his gut. He breathed in, and out, forcing it to loosen. Any missteps around Alderon would only incur his wrath; besides which, he didn’t see any point in arguing that the best gift Alderon could give him would be to let him go. “I wouldn’t even really call that a gift.”

“You should want to get away from me.”

Garrick shook his head. “You say that, but I don’t. Not really. I’m not afraid of you, Alderon, and I don’t hate you, either.”

Alderon froze, and Garrick mirrored him. As per usual, his mouth had moved before his thoughts caught up with it, and he’d said something beyond foolish, something he hadn’t quite realized was true. But it was. At first, Alderon had been intimidating, and scary, and Garrick had hated him; For his cruelty, his indifference, and his constant reminders that Garrick would die, sooner rather than later, by his own hand. But as those dropped off—as the mask slipped—what lay underneath was no more terror inducing than what lay underneath any other person’s outward appearance. Alderon acted scary and in control, and, like most forces of nature, Garrick was sure he was those things. But he was also a man who read books in his library, whose quiet cries in his sleep often woke Garrick from his own slumber, and whose touch was exceedingly gentle for a vampire about to bite his victim.

Knowing all of that, Garrick couldn’t hate or fear him. He’d even admit to enjoying Alderon’s presence as much as he might anyone else’s.

Well, maybe not aloud.

“Then you are a fool,” Alderon said at last, eyes flashing red as he finally met his gaze.

Garrick shrugged, even as the word stabbed needles into his spine. “Then I’m a fool,” he agreed. “It doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t ask for you to leave, and that I didn’t have much fun while you were gone. I’m a people person, and you’re the only people this person has.” He smirked at the disgusted curl of Alderon’s lip as he said it; proud, at least, that he’d gotten some other reaction beyond Alderon’s dramatic bullshit.

It was Alderon’s turn to blink at him, before running a tense hand through his hair. Garrick wondered how he managed to do that every time without getting caught. “I suppose I should have asked if you would like to be left to yourself. I just did not know what else I could give you that would not seem…laughably pathetic.”

“Why are you so obsessed with getting me something? It’s insulting.”

Garrick winced because, again, his mouth had run away with him. He squared his shoulders, though. It was out there now, and Alderon really deserved to know what he thought. Even if it meant some anger.

Surprisingly, however, Alderon looked away instead of calling him out on the blunt words. “I figured it might be. But to ignore it seemed even more foolhardy.”

“Ignore what?” Garrick asked, with both the sinking feeling and the hope that he already knew.

“That you are a life,” Alderon said, reaching out as if to touch, but stopping just short of doing so. He clenched his hand instead, casting his gaze upon as if it were a worm he’d stepped on instead of a part of him. “A young one, with hopes and dreams and…events to celebrate.” The hand fell to his side with a slump of shoulders that made Alderon seem small and defeated. “Not just some faceless person who has crossed my path, but a man I know the name and…age of.”

“So I actually seem like a person to you,” Garrick said flatly. The hard knot of anger had returned, twisting and curling in his gut until his hands became fists. He wanted to see some kind of hope in this situation—that Alderon really was as compassionate and loathe to hurt as he seemed—but his words just made Garrick want to lash out. “And that scares you, so you ran away instead of facing it.”

“Yes,” Alderon said simply, calmly, even though a slight twitch told Garrick he’d hit a little too close to home. “I needed time to think, and I thought you would enjoy my time away. I see now I have misjudged.”

Garrick just barely bit back a swift retort. It took more than a breath to calm him down this time; he wanted to scream until his lungs gave out, to shake Alderon until he realized how utterly dense he was. He needed to stay calm, though. Coaxing out Alderon’s compassion was an intensive, laborious endeavor, one crucial to his survival, and he wasn’t about to lose months of progress just because Alderon had no tact to speak of.

At last, he folded his arms, if only to have somewhere to put his frustration. Looking to the side was easier than meeting Alderon’s gaze head-on, so he glared at the floor, and forced his voice to stay even and steady as he spoke. “So, what now?”

“I believe I will leave that choice up to you.”

That made him look around, eyebrows shooting up. “Me?”

Alderon tilted his head. “You do not have many choices in this situation. Perhaps a better gift is to give you as many as I can.”

Garrick’s eyebrows rose even higher. He was so stunned by the offer that he couldn’t even find the words to remind Alderon that giving him a “gift” in this situation undermined the sentiment.

“Though I suppose I should not call it a gift,” Alderon continued, as if he’d read Garrick’s mind. His eyes darted to the side and back again. “Simply consider it a part of the deal, if that is easier.”

Garrick barked out a laugh. He couldn’t help it. Despite Alderon’s cold nature, he really did have a flair for the dramatic. And, even though anger still churned in his gut, Garrick had to admit that as roundabout as it was, Alderon was trying.

“What?” Alderon growled, shooting him a glare.

Garrick caught his breath and shook his head. “Nothing. That’s just not what I expected you to say.”

Alderon sniffed. “Well, either way, it is up to you. I can return to the woods until nightfall, or I can stay.”

“How about,” Garrick suggested softly, “I do what I want to do, and you do what you want to do, and we do it together? That way it’ll be like any other day.”

The tension in Alderon’s body seemed to leave him all at once, and Garrick smiled. Neither of them wanted to pretend, but that didn’t mean things had to be unpleasant, either. Giving Alderon a way out of his wrongful sense of obligation seemed like the best choice.

“If you wish it, then that is what we’ll do.” He gestured to the rest of the room. “After you, Sir Knight.”

[knightedwriter]

I love your writing so much and all of your wips sound amazing!(Alderon and Kaiden have a few things in common lmao) Please tell me more about the moon's song series?

AH THANK YOU SO MUCH!! I’m so sorry, I meant to answer this earlier and then forgot it was in my ask box like a doof (and then I stared at it for awhile bc my brain was like “description machine broke” so I am doubly sorry).

Okay so idk if you went through my Character Page BUT The Moon’s Song is from the POV of Alderon, a thousand year old vampire who believes in the first book that the only way for him to live is to kill others. He settles in a manor near a village and offers the people there a deal: send him a person each month to feed off of and he’ll not only refrain from killing the entire village, but he’ll keep their roads free of cutthroats and thieves. Given there is not much choice in this at all, the villagers accept, and for ten long years live under his thumb.

The first book starts when Garrick knocks on Alderon’s door and offers to stay with him and continually give his blood in exchange for the village’s freedom. Alderon accepts with the stipulation that Garrick will die by his hand whenever he so chooses to kill him. So begins a months-long relationship full of pain and heartbreak, but also laughter, jokes, and teasing. Alderon soon realizes he can’t bring himself to kill Garrick (I make that sound like an easy realization HA) and apologizes. Garrick demands he tries to change, because otherwise his apology would mean nothing, and Alderon decides to do so.

The rest of the series focuses on how he improves, as well as on issues of morality, happiness, family, and mortality. Garrick and Alderon become a Thing by the end of the first book (which I have almost finished the first draft of) and I plan on introducing four different children that they end up adopting, each with their own arcs, pains, etc. One of the biggest questions is how Alderon and Garrick will deal with Garrick’s mortality (he doesn’t want to be turned and Alderon can’t bear to lose him). They search high and low for a solution, which leads to, of course, meeting the children, dealing with some hunters, and fighting for their lives. Oh, and a hell of a lot of magical creatures, including werewolves, fae, dragons, spirits, and so on.

Whether or not it turns out happily is a question I’ll leave unanswered for now :)

(Also yes ohmygosh, when I read through your WIP page Kaiden IMMEDIATELY reminded me of Alderon. That idea sounds SO COOL)