#by this I mean deserters who want to start over elsewhere and not join the heretics

[tovaicas]

friend and I were discussing it and it's so fucked how the ishgardians literally have nowhere to go even if they wanted to run

[igglemouse]

ELSEWHERE IN OASIS...

The morning sun hung high and proud over Oasis Springs, blazing hot and reminding the citizens why they lived in a desert town. Despite the heat Pascal went through his usual daybreak routine. Stretching and flexing his muscles as he went through a variety of poses, searching within himself for the focus he would need for the big game.

Actually, it wasn't a big game but for him it would be the biggest game of his career. Today he would don the colors of Oasis FC for the first time. He had been called up from the reserve team and would be making his big debut...maybe.

He bent over, the tips of his fingers hitting the mat and pressing into the dirt. He envisioned then the crowd, excited and hopeful for the start of the season, the expectations of a championship on their minds, and he tried to envision himself on the pitch before them.

'You're a spark plug, Pascal,' were the words of the coach, but he wanted to be more than that. He could see himself weaving through defenders, the ball at his feet, merely an extension of his will, as he made key pass after pass to help his team get the necessary goal. If only he would have the opportunity to do so.

'A super sub,' the media had called him but he felt he should be more. Yet, he was young, he would have to prove to the team that he deserved more minutes and soo all he could do was wait.

For now, he would stretch, focus, and think about the plate of waffles he picked up from a simply adorable food stand vendor...

The plan had been simple. One hundred simoleons a day keeps the bills at bay and yet the tortillas went untouched, the passerbys were indifferent, and my hopes were fleeting with each person that strolled right by. Simple doesn't mean easy.

I made four simoleons yesterday. Four. I would say I completely failed but those four simoleons made it all worth it because I couldn't quite get the man who paid for his plate of waffles out of my mind.

I tried them myself as well, the waffles I mean, and honestly I don't blame anyone for passing on them. They were bland and plain but not exactly bad although I might be biased. I'll have to add something to them, berries, chocolate, I don't know, but I'm not sure I have the skill to quite pull it off. No, I won't move too fast and I won't skip steps. I'll open my food stand today with a few more options and the hopes of making just a little more and also the hope that a certain customer will stop by once again.

I plan on spending most of my time in the heart of a cozy kitchen. Surrounded by tempting aromas while trying to craft delightful flavors that make it hard to take one bite of anything I make. For this reason I do have to point out the bad side for this career. Food!

That’s right, because I’ll always be spoiled by all kinds of food and that means I will have to do my best to stay in shape. So sometimes my morning has me moving to a more active rhythm, that of my legs working and my heart pumping to keep off any lbs I might add thanks to all my cooking and eating. 

Eventually, I’ll find a gym to join, somewhere I can really develop a fitness routine but for now the open air and the sidewalks will do. It helps to familiarize myself with the neighborhood as well.

Every day I open my stall it is the aroma of my dishes that I hope make a sell. Scent is a big part of flavor, you know? If something doesn’t smell delightful then its likely you won’t like the taste of it but sometimes, especially on a dry heat kind of day which Oasis is famous for, the smell of my creations won’t be enough. It is then that I will have to rely on the skill of my tongue.

Thankfully, Oasis seems to have a large population of people like me, Selvadoradians who have decided its close enough to home to call it home, so I won’t stick out too much but that is not going to stop me from trying to master Simlish so that my accent isn’t too thick. 

I won’t only sale tortillas and waffles. I’ll switch it up and offer a variety of dishes from more cultural offerings to even baked goods like a batch of brownies fresh from the oven. Everyone does love chocolate, right? Plus, it’s something anyone can just pick up and snack on while dropping off a simoleon. It might not make much of a profit but it might get someone to stop and consider my stand for a second longer and sometimes that’s all I’m asking for. 

Again, I’m no expert, I’m a novice chef, but these brownies are a promise of sweetness for potential customers.

So today I open my stand with a lot more energy but also determination. Success is about patterns and multiple days with poor sales would get people far too comfortable with passing me by. Not today. 

I’m loud with my sales, not aggressive, making sure everyone knows I am here, demanding to be seen, and it doesn’t take long to find that the people of Oasis are a little more curious today. My tortillas are popular and the brownies sell too, not so much the waffles, perhaps I opened too late for those today, but no matter because the tally is a lot better.

One hundred and twenty one simoleons! Far more than I expected, especially after yesterday

Today there's a bit more food on display. Tortillas, waffles, brownies, being the main attractions and you know what? It sells! I’m given a boost of hope but also left with a question. Was it today’s added variety that helped boost sales or was it simply just the right day? 

The hustle of my stand had left me a little eager to close it. After all, I had been out under the Oasis sun the entire time and was satisfied with my earnings but just as I put away the last plate someone else approached and blamed the scent of brownies for her visit. 

“I swear I could smell those a block away,” she confesses, sharing a smile with me but more than that, my language as well.

“I see my bait worked,” I replied, instantly feeling a little more comfortable. “Closing now, try tomorrow,” and it felt so good to say that. You know you’re on to something when people are willing to wait for it.

“I’ll be back, for sure, but I just wanted to welcome you to the town first of all. Daniella,” she adds.

“Frida,” I give back. 

“Nice to meet you, Frida,” and it was nice to meet her. We only talked for a little while and mostly about what to do in town. We also exchanged numbers which might hint at her becoming a friend? Time will tell, as it usually does. 

I find the comfort of my bed a nice wrap to my day. One hundred simoleons, a goal reached and in the second day. The rest of the week at this pace will have given me around six hundred simoleons, enough for rent and enough to pocket change to get other things as well. 

It might not seem like much but it is certainly a start...

I hit the bed later that night with a lot more confidence in my cooking skills. If I can make 100 simoleons a day I should be okay. Of course the goal is always higher but for now 100 is the floor. Maybe there is a future here for me in Oasis after all...

Episode List - Next

[magnoliabutters]

• I CHOOSE YOU •

pairing: neteyam x augustine (na’vi/avatar oc, she/her)

summary: augustine reflects on her relationship with eywa and her creations - most notably, her blossoming relationship with neteyam

warnings: 18+ content, mdni, adult language; avatar 2009 references and avatar wow spoilers; quick side story to the past, jealousy, angst, arranged & complex relationships, slow burn; hot and heavy, implications of a certain something, misspelling eywa cuz dyslexia, etc.

word count: ~5.8k

• part 3 • eywa’s choice • series •

note: welcome to part 3! more more more! there are def more na’vi words up in this one. i've linked the words that have direct links, but for those who don't are bolded and have a footnote at the end of the section to support your reading. definitions and phrases found on learn na'vi. also italics for going back in time. just my apologies haha she be all over the place

Neteyam rushes after Pipxì. His mind racing. He never meant to hurt anyone. He understands what is expected of him, what is expected of them both.

The two began as close friends, supporting each other through the months leading up to their Metkayinan iknimayas. They even received their tattoos, hunters' garments, and song chord beads together upon the passing of their rites. On that very same day, Ronal prophesied Neteyam and Pipxì's child to be the one to lead the next generation of Na'vi to victory over the sky people.

Two children already born of great warriors. Their brave generational lines would join together to create an unstoppable force to lead the Na'vi people. With something so important, Neteyam hoped that it would feel right, but it never did. His heart was always elsewhere. It was back at home, the forest. Nothing was the same between him and his friend after that day.

Pipxì leads Neteyam to a deserted cove. She hops off of her ilu and onto the volcanic rock resting above the water. She walks forward, her arms crossing over her chest. "Pips, please," Neteyam calls out as he rushes behind her. She turns around quickly. An abundance of anger displayed upon her face. "You know what is expected of us, Neteyam," she seethes through her teeth. "Yes, but-" he starts. "We do not get in a choice in this. We are promised," she yells in frustration.

"We should, Pips," Neteyam suggests softly. His brows push together in frustration. He grunts, throwing his hand up. "We should get a choice. We are hunters, warriors. We should choose our own mates." Pipxì hisses as her upper lip begins to tremble. "This is what Eywa wants," she says, turning her back to him. "Ronal can be wrong," he mutters. Pipxì quickly looks back at him with shock on her face. She rushes towards him, her ears back. "Do not disrespect Tsahik," she demands through gritted teeth. "The all-great mother chooses. Not us," she spits out as her eyes peer down to their feet.

"Then why does this not feel right, Pips?" Neteyam asks with concern written throughout his face. Pipxì's eyes raise to his. "We are not meant to be mates," he whispers. "You know this. Your own heart belongs to another." She breathes heavily as her ears raise. "You remember?" he asks as he guides her chin up with his finger. "When we rode our tsurak together for the first time." She pulls her chin from him. Her eyes begin to well as she refuses to look his way. He follows her, attempting to gain her eye line. "Your heart belongs to Itso," he whispers.

"I am not promised to Itso," Pipxì yells back. Her ears flat as she pushes against Neteyam's chest. "You would have been," he continues. He raises his hands as he looks at his friend in pain. "If you had a choice." Pipxì shakes her head, an annoyed smile forming on her right cheek. "You are as stubborn as they come, Suli," she spits out. "It’s that demon blood. It makes you stupidly optimistic." He pulls away as his eyes fall to the ground. His nose twitches as he feels the burn of her statement. He knows she did not mean it.

Pipxì takes in the sight of Neteyam. She cares deeply for her closest friend, but cannot separate her anger from her concern. She takes a deep breath, attempting to calm herself. "We don't get to choose,” she says as though it disgusts her. “I don't get to choose Itso. She will never be my mate," she whispers. "The same way Augustine will never be yours."

Pipxì walks through Neteyam, brushing harshly against his shoulder. She calls out to her ilu and quickly jumps on. Neteyam turns to watch her dive under the clear waters. His heart filled with sadness. In his eyes, there is nothing right about their pairing. He believes they are destined to be friends, without a doubt. Not at all mates, yet they are forced together. They both belong to others, yet they are forced. Why?

With an overwhelming amount of stares from the Metkayina people, Augustine slides down the rock and onto her ilu. She hops upon the saddle, makes the bond, and swiftly dives under the water. She wishes to be anywhere but here. She wishes she never left the forest, never left her home. Her ilu frantically swims through the waters. This time she was ready. Her embarrassment, hopelessness, disappointment, fear - all fuels her muscles. It makes it so her hand is completely clenched onto the notch of her saddle.

She feels tingles atop her skull, her body communicating the need for air. She chooses to ignore it. Her eyes closed. Her ilu frantically navigating the coral without a care in the world. She feels sobs erupting from her throat. She wonders if one could even cry under water. The second sign of her body needing air hits her intensely, even her ilu feels it. Their navigation now slow and clumsy. The lightheaded feeling leaving Augustine's grip looser and looser.

Finally, Augustine breaches. She gasps in the air as she rests against the neck of her ilu. "I'm so sorry, girl," she says as she cries against the smooth skin of its neck. The ilu pushes its head against her cheek, feeling her deep sorrow. Augustine quickly stifles her tears to look around her surroundings. She finds herself on the other side of Awa’atlu. Luckily, she is closer to the Sully pod. "Come on," she directs as the ilu changes direction towards the shore.

She jumps off of the saddle and lands her feet into the sand of the ocean. The water barely at her knees. She turns to grab her queue, but stops to look into the eye of her ilu. She takes a moment to ponder and then a slow solemn smile grows upon her face. "May I call you Aazll? I always thought that was a pretty name," she whispers as her hand strokes the ilu's side. She closes her eyes as she feels a rush of warmth and acceptance. "Thank you, Aazll," she replies as she opens her eyes. "I will see you again," she nods as she separates her queue. Aazll quickly dives into the water and swims out beyond the reefs.

Augustine runs up the sanded beaches and into the village. She tries not to be paranoid of those staring at her. She wonders if this is the regular curious and nosey staring she has received since she arrived, or if its staring because they know what she and Neteyam did. She wonders how fast news travels within the clan. She begins to feel tears well in her eyes. She runs faster and faster through the crowd, hoping she will make it back to the pod before she explodes.

Once she finally jumps into the Sully hut, she finds Neytiri preparing a fish. Her eyes quickly flash towards the distressed figure moving through the front entrance. "Augustine, what's wrong?" Neytiri asks as her brows pull together in worry. She quickly stands from her sit and wraps her arms around the poor girl. Augustine begins to sob, knowing full well that she would not be able to hide her emotions from the closest thing she has to a mother. Neytiri pulls her in close, brushing away the tear-soaked curls that have stuck to her cheeks. "Are you okay?" she asks softly as she guides Augustine down to the netted floor.

"I've made-" Augustine stops herself, taking in a long shaky breath. "I've made many mistakes since I came here," she continues. Neytiri pulls away, confused. Her ears flatten and quickly raise as she takes in Augustine’s tearful eyes. She sucks in breath and returns back to holding the child closer into her chest. "I see you, Augustine te Uniltìrantokxolo’ Ewtoä'ite. You are Omatikaya. You are one of the people," she says proudly. She gently places her hands upon her cheeks, raising her eyes up towards her's. "Whatever mistakes you have made can be forgiven by the great mother.”

Augustine leans deeper into Neytiri’s embrace. She stifles sobs against her chest. The confusion, the ambiguity of everything that has happened in the past few days has placed her in quite the flurry of emotions. She is thankful to have Neytiri. Thankful that Neytiri has welcomed in yet another motherless child. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” Neytiri asks softly as she slightly pulls away. She pushes back a strand of hair behind Augustine’s ear. Augustine’s heart began to race. She didn’t want to lie, but she also had no idea of how to share the truth with Neytiri. She would be talking about her son after all.

“Neteyam,” Augustine whispers as she slowly raises her eyes to the mother figure. Neytiri’s face remains still, but her ears flatten quickly. She takes in a breath. Her hands never moving from their comforting spots. “My sweet Augustine,” she coos as her fingers gently rub against her skin. “Everything will go as Eywa intends,” she says as she brings Augustine’s eyes towards her. With a smile, she adds, “Listen to your heart. It does not make mistakes.”

Augustine grins as she wipes a tear from her eyelashes. “Oel ngati kameie, Neytiri,” she says. Neytiri smiles and brings her into her chest for one final embrace. “It is still early,” she says, pulling away. “You should not waste this day.” Augustine nods and stands alongside her mother figure. She squeezes Neytiri’s hand as she walks out of the pod.

uniltìrantokxolo’: avatar clan

oel ngati kameie: i see you

The sun is at its brightest. Augustine’s eyes squint, as she struggles to gather her surroundings. Before her, she sees several of the people gathered for a meal. Their eyes remain unwelcoming, but she expects nothing different. She is still a stranger. Let alone a stranger who was seen kissing a publicly promised Na’vi. It has been quite the journey from being the most overlooked to the most watched.

As Neytiri said, she did not want to waste this day. She walks down to the edge of the docks once more. She shouts and clucks out to Aazll as she simultaneously dives into the warm water. Aazll quickly appears below her, now a strong connected piece of who she is. She makes the bond and continues swimming through the current. She wishes to hold her breath even longer after today’s training. She hopes that Neteyam will find her amongst the reefs so they can continue their lessons. Or so she can simply see him once more.

Augustine cannot help the smile that forms on her face as she notes the improvements of her breath. She counts slowly in her mind, as she feels her long hair float above her head. Aazll happily swims circles around her. The number continues to get bigger and bigger with each breath. It seems easier if she closes her eyes. She can solely focus on her breathing. She enjoys the feeling of being weightless. There is beauty in allowing all her muscles and joints to relax as the ocean holds her. A comforting, fully immersive, hug she has never known before, never been able to appreciate. She finds herself jealous of the Metkayina.

In Awa'atlu, the entire ecosystem is in tandem with itself. A perfect harmony. Whereas, in High Camp, all of Ewya’s forest creatures have only recently made peace in the first war against the sky people. There are still a few kinks that need to be smoothed out. Everything is different in Awa’atlu, even the water feels different here. Augustine senses a deeper connection to Ewya, as opposed to the still waters of the ponds or the rush of the rivers. Augustine remembers fondly of her complicated relationship with the element…

When she and the Sully kids were younger, back when Tuk was still a toddler, they would often find themselves near the creeks. She loved how clear the water was. How you could easily see smoothed rocks at its bottom. How safe she felt amongst her brothers and sister. How she need not worry about anything beyond her upcoming rites and how to be the best hunter.

At a certain point im his development, Lo’ak began to complain about every little thing. “The creek’s boring,” he whines. “Why can’t we go to the river bed like the Entu?” Kiri rolls her eyes, so much so you could barely see her pupils anymore. She was never a fan of Lo’ak’s whining. Spider, on the other hand, continues to nod his head and agree with Lo’ak’s every move, every decision, as always.

“Lo’ak, the boy with nightmares, wants to go to the Kaspavan River with the Entu,” Neteyam chuckles to himself. He skips a rock across the creek. Augustine watches, jealousy erupting in her chest. She had been practicing how to skip rocks for the past year or two. Yet, somehow he does it so effortlessly after a week of practice. Everything came so easily to Neteyam.

Lo’ak grunts at the direction of his older brother. “Gusty, Kiri,” he says with a smile. “What do you two think?” Kiri scoffs, as she bumps her shoulder against Augustine’s. “Anything to stop your crying,” she mutters. Lo’ak sticks his tongue out at her, cuing another roll of her eyes. He turns to Augustine with brows raised. She smiles as she quickly glances over at Neteyam’s disapproving eyes. “Let’s go,” she whispers in excitement.

Spider and Lo’ak jump around in excitement. They snicker as they both lead the way towards the river. Kiri reluctantly follows behind them. She always enjoyed their adventures, yet was always simultaneously annoyed. As Augustine rushes to join them, Neteyam grabs hold of her wrist. “This is not smart, Augustine,” he says as slowly pulls from his grasp. She laughs, rolling her eyes. “I’m not trying to be smart, Nete,” she whispers as she runs ahead. A smirk sprawls across her face. Neteyam is well-known for hating that nickname.

As Lo’ak pushes through the forest clearing, Augustine’s heart begins to increase its beats. She hears the rapids before she sees them. Kiri crosses her arms across her chest as she steps into the cold water. Augustine hesitantly walks forward. She cannot see the bottom of the river, only rushing movement so fast it hurts her eyes.

“Kiri, you go first,” Spider laughs as she gently pushes the girl. “No!” Kiri giggles as she grabs hold of Spider’s arms. She pulls him closer, attempting to drag him into the mud. As the young one’s play beside the river bed, Augustine’s eyes watch a floating branch down the river. The water overflows the branch and brings it back to the surface repeatedly. She would hate to be that branch.

Neteyam continues to listen in on his siblings play-fighting, but his primary focus is on Augustine. He is perplexed by the frown slowly forming on her lips. “Lo’ak should be going first!” Kiri yells. “He wanted to come here in the first place!” She begins to grab at Lo’ak’s hands. He tries to run with the hugest smile on his face. Spider quickly wraps his arms around his waist, holding on as tight as he could.

Augustine’s head follows the branch as it passes by them. As the current curves behind a thick bush, she steps one solid foot into the river. She leans closer to see the fate of the branch. Violently, it crashes against two submerged rocks. The wood shattering and shooting out throughout the river’s width. Neteyam watches in concern as Augustine winces at the sight. “Maybe we should head back to the creek,” he suggests.

With a huge bustling laugh, Lo’ak spins within Spider’s embrace and now is dragging him into the river. Spider’s bare feet dig into the mud, but have no traction. He playfully screams as he wriggles in Lo’ak’s grasp. Abruptly, Lo’ak throws Spider into the river. He throws him with all his might, not thinking to care where he may land. He throws him with all his might right into Augustine.

Augustine falls with hands first into the river. She can barely hold herself up in the shallow water as the current ignores her every wish. “Augustine!” Neteyam yells as he rushes in behind her. Kiri immediately stops playing and grabs hold of his shoulder to stand steadily against the water’s strength. As Augustine attempts to push up from the ground, her cheek is repeatedly hit with the strong currents. Spider runs behind them. The water almost half way up his body. Neteyam hurriedly turns to Lo’ak, “Keep Spider back!” His brother never moved quicker than in that moment.

Kiri instinctually grabs against Augustine’s top. The woven cloth gives enough leeway that Augustine is able to breathe for a few seconds uninterrupted. Neteyam then hooks his arm around her waist and pulls her out the rushing water. He holds her close to his chest, never wanting to let her out of his sight again. His nostrils flare as he furiously side eyes his brother.

As soon as she gains a few good breaths, Augustine pushes out from Neteyam’s grasp. He hadn’t even noticed he was still holding on. “Lo’ak, you skxawng,” she yells through a hoarse voice. She pushes a hand against his chest as he stumbles back with a concerned eyes. Her voice box pains her. She reaches at her throat, and immediately recognizes the missing sensation. Her eyes widen, her ears flatten as she quickly rushes back into the water. “No, no, no,” she mutters on repeat.

“What?” Kiri asks as she involuntarily imitates Augustine’s erratic searching movements. “My mom’s choker,” she says in a panicked tone. She barely has time to acknowledge her first drowning. With quick eye contact, Spider and Lo’ak rush down the river bed - hoping to find the necklace stuck to one of the many rocks. “We’ll find it,” Kiri whispers as she places a comforting hand to Augustine’s shoulder. The other covers her nervous mouth.

Neteyam’s lips twitch as he grunts at the sight. Under his watch, Augustine almost drowned and has lost the dearest item she has of her mother’s. He wishes he could simply blame Lo’ak. It was his idea after all. His actions that led to her in the freezing river. But Neteyam is the eldest. He is always responsible. He is responsible for the tears falling from her cheeks…

Augustine never did find that necklace. Before Awa'atlu, the water was a never ending reminder of loss, risk, and danger. It’s freezing temperature was a perfect representation of how little it gives and how much it takes. Now, the water is confusing - maybe even a new element. It’s warmth is inviting. It’s safe and reliable waves bring comfort to Augustine’s sporadic thoughts.

Aazll notices Augustine’s lost in her own mind. She floats just underneath the ocean’s surface, a smile upon her face. Aazll quickly brushes against Augustine’s cheek, causing a giggle to fall from her lips. She rushes to breach the surface as she continues to chuckle to herself. Her hand runs over Aazll’s soft skin. Her other hand plays with her father’s Olangi necklace. “Irayo,” she whispers.

“Has lover boy not shown you sign?” A low voice appears. Augustine pulls her eyes from Aazll and onto a tall Metkayina man who glides beside her on his skimwing. A wave-like tattoo crashes in from the tops of both arms and across the sides of his pecks. Augustine found it hard to keep her eyes from the art. The hunter’s hair is long, beautiful, and curly. “L-lover boy?” she says slowly, trying to get her eye line back to his. “Ilu are better at understanding signs, especially without a bond,” he says again with a smile.

“Oh,” Augustine responds. She remains confused. Where did he even come from? “Wait, what signs?” The man laughs, shaking his head. He slides into the water gracefully and floats alongside her. “What are you called?” he asks. “Oeru syaw Augustine,” she answers. She watches his every move, still suspicious. “Ah, I thought you were the new girl,” he says with another chuckle. “New girl?” you ask with an incredulous laugh. “Yes, you’ve been the talk of the village,” he says as he swims ahead of her. “All good things,” he mutters with a smile. She scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“I’m sure,” Augustine says sarcastically. “Well, welcome to our village,” the hunter says sweetly. She smiles. Finally, a good simple interaction with one of the Metkayina. Maybe she wouldn’t be an outsider for much longer. “Thank you,” she responds. He shoots her a smile and quickly turns to Aazll and his skimwing. He gestures towards them both with a nod. “This is ‘thank you,’” he says as he repeats the gesture. “We use our hands to speak under water. It’s how we speak to our brothers and sisters in the sea.”

Augustine’s face beams. She loves learning new things - to challenge her intellectual mind. What better challenge than learning an entirely new language? Something that will bring her closer to the people? The hunter watches as her eyes widen. “Just as I say ‘Oel ngati kameie, Augustine,’” he adds as he gestures a hand from his forehead towards her. Her face scrunches together as she giggles. “What else is there?” she asks. Her excitement is now palpable. She places an unexpected hand against his forearm.

The man watches her hand and slowly raises his eyes back towards her. “Would you like me to teach you?” he asks slowly. “Yes, I would like to know more,” she answers with a hopeful tone. “I’d love to teach you, Augustine,” he softly responds with smile. Her cheeks become flush. She laughs nervously, attempting the break the energy between them. She does not understand the static in the air, but it does make her slightly giddish and uncomfortable. “You can call me Gus or Gusty if that’s easier,” she suggests. “I like Augustine,” he states smoothly. She nods, biting the edge of her lip.

entu: male na'vi

irayo: thank you

oeru syaw: i am called

Augustine spent the remainder of the day alongside the hunter. They eventually made their way to a reef, sitting cross-legged across from each other against a smoothed surface. He remained sweet and patient with her as she learned the Metkayina sign language. She wanted to make sure each of her gestures were accurate and could not be misunderstood. She wanted to be absolutely perfect after all.

“Swim with me,” she mutters slowly as she gestures before her. The man smiles as he nods. “Hell yeah,” she joyfully yells. “And…” she begins to gesture. “Follow with me?” He laughs, shaking his head. “You can leave out ‘with,’” he says while gesturing. Her studious face left him with a smile so large it hurt his cheeks. “Okay, okay,” she says as she nods. She begins to gesture again, her eyes focused on his. “Follow me,” she whispers. He laughs, nodding his head.

The hunter turns behind him to note the eclipse beginning to overtake the sun. He sighs as he looks back at her sweet smile. “I must go now, Augustine,” he mumbles. “Aw,” she whines. She is so excited to learn again. She wishes she could learn all through the night. She nods as she watches his iridescent dots glow brighter as the light grows darker.

As he stands, the hunter calls out to his skimwing. He notes a familiar figure approaching. A smirk pulls to one side of his cheek. “You should get back to land before it’s too dark,” he says as he points back to the village. Augustine quickly stands to join him in the water. “Wait, what are you called?” she hurriedly asks as he softly pulls his queue onto his chest. “They call me Aonung,” he murmurs. “I’m sure Neteyam will tell you all about me.” He laughs at something behind her as he pulls away from the reef.

Augustine follows his eye line to see Neteyam. Finally, she thinks as she instinctually rushes towards him. “Neteyam,” she shouts excitedly. Her steps halted as she watches his furrowed brow in confusion. “How long have you been talking to that kurkung?” he asks as he swiftly jumps off of his ilu and onto the reef. He determinedly walks over to the other edge of the surface as he watches Aonung’s skimwing dive underwater.

“Neteyam,” Augustine gasps. She has never heard him speak like that before, address anyone like that before. She walks slowly behind him and places a hesitant hand to his upper back. His skin is hot, surprising to the touch. “Augustine, you shouldn’t speak to him again,” Neteyam states as he quickly turns to face her. She takes a step back, completely taken aback. “What’s wrong?” she asks with her hands raised. “Aonung will not have pure intentions with you,” he states as his ears flatten and he bares his teeth. “Pure intentions?” she asks, scoffing in disbelief. “He doesn’t need pure intentions to teach me-”

Neteyam half-heartedly laughs, as sucks his tongue against his cheek. “He wasn’t just teaching you - No, Augustine. He knows,” he scoffs. He places a gentle hand upon her elbow, attempting to guide her to Aazll. Augustine pulls her arm from him. “Knows what, Neteyam?” she sighs. She takes in a deep breath as she places more distance between them. “I’m so tired of this. I feel like you’ve been speaking in riddles.” She brushes her hands through her hair. She shakes her head, clouded by all the confusion. “I am the last one to know anything. Just-” she starts. Another sigh escapes her lips. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

Neteyam’s brows pull together. He hates watching her in pain. He hates it even more knowing he might have had something to do with its cause. "I don't trust Aonung," he starts. "He isn't just teaching you out of the kindness of his heart." Augustine throws her hands up. "All I care about is that I'm being taught," she mutters. "Maybe if you were more focused on teaching, I wouldn't have to learn from Aonung," she says with a bit of snark to her voice.

Augustine watches as Neteyam's jaw clenches. He takes one strong stride towards her and is already a mere inch or two away from her lips. "You would rather I just teach?" he whispers. His eyes spark electricity in her heart. Her skin feels on fire, despite the lack of touch. Her entire body is drawn into him, desperate for his soft skin, his lips. "No," the whisper escapes her mouth. It is almost as though her body betrays her. It gives in to the vulnerability that she is initially frightened to share with him.

"That's what I thought," Neteyam murmurs as he moves a bit closer. He can smell the sweetness of her hair. He can see her gorgeous iridescent beauty marks scattered throughout her body. "Let's not pretend that this is one sided," he whispers. He draws his chin up, which lightly pulls his lips against hers - so quick she barely noticed. "I know you feel the same way, Augustine. You must," he coos. He takes a deep breath and takes a step back. His gaze taking in every ounce of her beauty, but straying far from her eyes. He has twice now given his heart to her. Despite the confidence in his statement, he is, in fact, worried that she may not feel the same way.

Augustine's eyes rake over his body. His muscles were always so defined. His strength always seen as protective, and never once as threat. Her eyes trace over his fish tattoo. She catches herself wondering if it hurt, wondering what the meaning behind it is. His hair sways with each of his movements, even with his breath. He is always moving, constantly. He can never be held down to one spot. Just like the water...

Just like the water, Neteyam is warm. His heart trusting and forgiving. His embrace leaves Augustine feeling weightless. All of her worries and struggles gone with a single touch. He is her home. Wherever he is, she knows she is safe. She is enveloped by an unrelenting blanket of security. She never need know fear. She never need know pain. In his arms, she will forever know love.

When asked if she feels the same way, if she sees Neteyam just as he sees her, Augustine feels his embrace again. This time not by his words or actions, but simply his presence. She gently steps forward. Her hand reaches for his cheek. Her thumb rubbing against his cheek bone. "I see you, Neteyam," she whispers. The sweetest smile appears on his face. The same goofy smile she always loved to see when they were children.

"Nga yawne lu oer, Ma'Nete," she whispers. A hint of a shake to her voice. The nerves getting the best of her. She has never once said this, not once to anyone. She has only heard of the phrase in stories. Stories of how her mother confessed her love to her father. She could not think of a better way to tell Neteyam. A phrase so charged with affection, devotion, and friendship.

It felt like minutes had passed before Augustine finally looks up to see Neteyam. The childish smile now gone. His face now filled with a new look. One she had only seen right before he kissed her the first time. Eyes full of hope. A smile barely forming at the edges of his mouth. His ears low, but never flat. “N-neteyam?” she stutters in nervousness.

It is almost as though her call pulls him out of this trance like state. Neteyam laughs softly as he leans deeper into the palm of her hand. It feels more comforting than he could have ever imagined. “You love me,” he whispers through a smile. Almost as though he was confirming the fact with himself. “I love you,” she repeats with a nod. Her voice rising in increasing excitement.

Neteyam gently grabs Augustine’s wrist. His hand slowly slides upon her palm and intertwines with her fingers. Her heart feels as though it’s in her throat. All her love, her elation has left her feeling breathless. “Follow me,” he whispers as he guides her to his ilu. “Where are we going?” she asks with a giggle. “Do you trust me?” he laughs. He holds her hand as she sits upon the saddle. He gracefully sits behind her. His hand slowly traveling around her waist, then lightly down her arms as he grabs hold of a notch. Augustine leans back against his chest. She nuzzles her head between his chin and neck. “Always,” she whispers.

kurkung: asshole

nga yawne lu oer: i love you, you are beloved to me

Augustine thought she knew what beauty was. She saw it in the forest. She saw it again in the coral reefs. She sees it any time she lays eyes on Neteyam. But she is sure she never knew beauty like this before. Not before Neteyam took her here…

“This is Ranteng Utralti,” Neteyam whispers behind Augustine’s ear. Her eyes grow in excitement and disbelief. She watches as the reef’s rocks arch out of the water and high into the sky. It reminds her home. Of her people’s Tree of Souls. “Neteyam, this is - this is,” she starts but cannot finish. Her mouth gapes open as they pass through the first archway. “Just like Vitraya Ramunong," Neteyam coos. She can hear his smile through his voice. "This is beautiful," she says softly in awe.

The eclipse makes the vibrant colors even more so. It is beyond breath taking. She has never seen such incredible shades of pink, blue, and purple. She closes her eyes and immediately feels Eywa's presence. The welcoming feeling of joy, beauty, and pleasure. "The great mother," she whispers as she opens her eyes. "She's here. I feel her too," he whispers. He guides his ilu closer to the Spirit Tree.

Augustine turns around to face Neteyam in excitement. His eyes widen in happiness and adoration. "Our ancestors," she says under her breath. "They are here," he answers. His eyes follow the trunk down to its iridescent pink leaves. "We don't have to go home to speak to them." She releases a thankful sigh as she gracefully slides into the water.

With a smile, she dives in and hurriedly bonds her queue with the souls' leaves. Her eyes close as she feels the familiar soothing feeling that rushes over her each time she connects with the Tree of Souls. "Mother," she thinks to herself. She unfortunately is never able to see her mother, but she luckily feels her undeniable love when connected. This is the closest she will ever get to her mother. She is incredibly thankful.

In the distance, Augustine hears laughter and joy. She hears someone who sounds very close to her father, but a deeper and older tone. He sounds gentle, calming. "Your father will never hear me again," the voice comes through. Again, she cannot see the man. Her face pulls together in confusion. It feels as though she is blocked from seeing. The only image in her head is white with pinkish hues, but still emptiness. "Tell him," the man starts. "Tell him to never forget the horses. Will you do that, Gusty?" She nods, unsure if he will even see her. "Good," he answers. "Follow your heart, little one. Always follow your heart."

Her eyes open abruptly. She gently pulls her queue and swims to the surface. Neteyam, pulled from his own bond with the Tree of Souls, rushes behind her. "Are you okay?" he asks with harsh breaths. "Yeah," she laughs. Some disbelief cross her mind as she places her hand to her lips. "I don't really know what just happened," she smiles. "It looks like you're happy," he answers slowly. His eyes still attempting to understand if you were alright. "I think I am, Neteyam. I think - I think I need to follow my heart," she whispers under her breath.

He chuckles as he nods towards a nearby rock. He hooks his arm under hers as he lifts her atop the surface. "Follow your heart," he says with amusement. "What do you mean?" She smiles as she sits back into a kneeling position. "I want you to be mine," she murmurs as she reaches for his hand. "What are you saying?" he asks. His innocence always makes her giggle.

Augustine slowly reaches for her queue, pulling her braid and resting it atop her chest. She reaches her tswin and holds it delicately before Neteyam. It's tendrils on full display as she sits vulnerable before him. "Nga yawne lu oer, Ma'Nete," she whispers. "I choose you."

vitraya ramunong: the tree of souls

note: pips?! the bisexual queen?! love her. also can’t decide between aonong and ao’nong and its really bothering me. oh! and i'm also reading ma'nete as ma'net-eh, wbu? but like other than all that, what did y’all think? 😅 I'll be honest, idk how I feel. I just hope y'al like it enough for a part 4. keep me writing please

taglist: @lazyfnafvideogamesparty, @em-asian, @daaiissyyyy, @maraudersrry, @buttercake2234, @sanrioo0, @maggiezx3, @andromets, @shylittlefroggy2, @just-soft-things1, @wierdointhecornerofaroom, @arminsgfloll, @aespie, @fanboyluvr

comment if you'd like to join the taglist 💙 reblogs help so so much✨

• nav • no-no plagiarism • series • requests open •

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Attack Of The Winter Wolf: Salvaging The Lost

Summary- 6.3k Alpha Steve x Little One Reader. Your old pack has been torn apart by the Winter Wolf and Alpha taken. Steve and You rally the last together and offer then a home with you, some take the offer, others don’t. Steve and You prepare to go elsewhere though. A part of Steve’s past might have the answers needed. Divider made by @firefly-graphics​

Warnings- Mentions of blood, death, smut- fingering. 

A/N- Thank You for reading and following along with Alpha Steve and Little One. It means so much to me that their story is read. I hope you all enjoy. It is a slightly slower chapter. As always, thoughts, questions and theories are always welcome. Happy Howling. 🐺💙

Chapter Two / Masterlist

After you two came to a stalemate, you insisted on heading back outside and helping the remaining wolves. Steve didn't try to disagree, even though he could see the tired lines under your eyes from the events that night. His Alpha could feel it through their bond, finally returning to his Little One who was pacing, whining. The silver wolf approached her with a slight nudge and embraced her when she sunk into him, being her strength.

 So Steve stayed close to you, even though you square your shoulders and did your best to show strength to those left. The moment you and Steve stepped out of the cabin, the scent of dried blood and death hit you both. It made your stomach roll and tears prick your eyes. You felt Steve’s touch against your hip, turning you into him momentarily so you could press your face into him, inhaling his calming scent, the woodsy smoke and steel covered the dried blood enough for you to regain your control till you pulled away. 

What was the worst part of it was that you were becoming accustomed to that scent of blood and chaos. It was sinking into the ground like a story to retold. It reminded you of the last stand with Pierce, of your Alpha bloodied and panting letting you lean against him in the underground cold tunnels, those burning moments when the Little Wolf was fighting against the serum you were given. You shook your head a bit to clear your thoughts and Steve's hold tightened as he tilted his head to your shoulder, inhaling deeply with a hot press of his nose against your mark. “You don't have to do this Little One. No one will think differently.” Everyone was in shock right now, wandering aimlessly trying to find the surviving members of their pack. Hard to believe that four wolves could cause this much destruction, killing off most of them and taking their Alpha. 

You lifted your head and weaved your hand with Steve’s, squeezing a bit. You were lucky, you still had your Alpha and mate, unlike others. Kat nearby wandered from body to body, searching for Caine. The Little Wolf whined seeing her friend search for him. Your throat shut at the pain she must be feeling. That selfish part of you thankful that wasn't you searching for Steve. “I have to Steve, they are my family.” You unwind yourself for him and went to Kat, who just blinked at you. Her eyes red rimmed as she knelt next to someone, feeling for his pulse. 

“I can't find him Y/N, I don't know where he is.” She croaked out and you sunk down next to your friend, reaching to take her hand in yours. 

“I’m sorry Kat, I'm so sorry… they took him.” You cupped the woman's face, making her listen to you. You could tell when it sunk in, when your words had a meaning for her, the utter defeat seemed to deflate her as she collapsed in your hold, her sobs shaking her as you gently tried to soothe her, strokes over her hair and along her back as she broke with her head in your lap. Steve watched a moment with a deep inhale and clenched jaw. Even the Alpha admired his partner so willing to take the others pain as your own so they wouldn't be alone. 

It was apparent that the pack no longer had their own Alpha in the midst of all this, and Steve cupped his hands around his mouth and sent out a howl, calling those still alive to him so he could give them direction. Right now they needed a leader to pull them out of their shock, figure out where to go from here. 

You felt your chest rise hearing your Alpha calling the others, his deep howl of “Come to me” made your own head tip back with the answering “Im here, Im here” song. Others started to join, moving in groups as they came out of the woods to return home, a mix of wolves and humans filling the sky with a mourning song. 

Once they joined the Alpha, Steve quieted, looking at the wolves who weren't his own, but in desperate need of him right now. “Let's put the fallen to rest.” He simply said, and the wolves dispersed to gather those they lost. 

Soldat happened to hear the Alpha’s howl he left behind reassembling the survivors from miles away. Not that there were many, it was the mission to disassemble the pack while removing the Alpha. Broken packs usually didn't survive long. The wolves either abandoned the area, finding family in other packs, or went into No Man's Land to live as loners till they lost themselves or found another to join. The Alpha they just collected was young. He laid curled up at Soldats feet, having shifted into a sleek black wolf. Soldat reached down, grabbing his muzzle to lift his head and inspect him for a moment. The Black Wolf stared back at him in defiance while Soldat snapped a picture of him to send to Brock. 

~Mission complete, we will drop off the asset and be ready for the next mission. 

He hit send and dropped the wolf's head to let it crash back to the floor. It wasn't long till an answering text beeped. 

~Excellent, stop by the office for your next orders.

Soldat leaned back in his seat, quietly they drove. Under Hydra’s control, the wolves no longer sought the companionship a typical pack brought them. Even the twins sat apart from one another, staring ahead at nothing. Just waiting for the next mission. That was all there life was about, completing the mission. There was no remorse in what their actions just caused. 

It was hours of finding the dead, hours of you finding the broken wolves in shock and doing your best to help them. Some point Natasha joined you all, having found you first. She wrapped you in her arms, and you let your friend hold you while you sunk into her strong hold. Everything smelled of death, but not her. She felt like home, as much as Steve did, and you let her be your strength momentarily.

“I got here as fast as I could.” Natasha squeezed you a bit more before letting go to step back, her hand coming to wipe at your streaked face. “Let me go check in with Steve and I will take over here. You look exhausted.” 

“No, I'm okay.” You shook off the hint that you needed a break, but lifted your head to find where Steve was, closing your eyes as you sought him out using the bond. It was a gentle brush between you. Your Little Wolf went to seek for her Alpha, twining her body around the tired Wolf and pushing her muzzle under his chin in a nuzzle. The motion made you smile to yourself, because you knew Steve felt it too by the immediate warmth you felt flow through you. “He’s over that way.” You said and Natasha glanced over to see Steve making his way over, just as much a mess as You were right now. Natasha let go of you to meet up with Steve, embracing him as well before stepping back so he could wrap an arm around you, your hand sliding up the back of his shirt to knead the small of his back, seeking that connection. 

“Natasha, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” Steve gave a weak smile and Natasha gave a knowing smile back, nodding. 

“I imagine, were you able to track where Bucky and the rest went?” 

“Just to the road, I didn't dare continue. Not with everything that had happened here. It was… terrible. Whatever they did to him, they have full access to his Howling Commandos training, no one stood a chance here. Or any other pack they catch by surprise. I already warned Sam, seeing how close they are.” You could feel him rumble slightly, obviously wanting to return home to be sure their home was protected. 

“This is the second in the area they have hit. They are just picking up momentum. I don't know what they are doing with the Alphas. But every one is the same.” Natasha bit her lip as she looked around. Even though the bodies have been moved, the ground still showed the story. You thought again how the blood soaked ground was going to be haunted by the memories of all the evil that had happened here. Natasha broke your thoughts. “What can I do to help?” 

“Pick up the trail and see if you can tell where they are headed next Nat.” The silent command of ‘Make sure they are not headed for home’ was heavy between them. Natasha gave a nod and disappeared in the woods where Steve directed her. 

The Alpha nudged at Steve when Natasha slipped from sight. <She's tired Steve, it's time to clean up and rest.> 

Just what I was thinking as well. 

“Come on Little One, you are dead on your feet and the others are going home to rest.” He nudged your temple with a slight bump as you both turned around. He was right, the grounds looked basically deserted now, it seemed hard to believe this had been a bustling lively pack not even a day ago. Now, it looked abandoned. 

You let Steve lead you back to the cabin. “Go take a shower.” He eased you towards the stairs leading to the second floor. Making your way halfway up, you paused, looking over the railing. 

“What about you? Are you coming?” Your voice had a bit of a concerned whine in it, and he gave a reassuring smile. 

“In a minute. I'm just bringing us up some food and I will join you Little One. Now go on up.” His tone deepened, not demanding but encouraging you to listen, and you did. Each step up made you feel heavier, and once you entered the bathroom, you couldn't wait for the hot water to take away the feeling of death that clung to your skin, filling your senses. The idea of food made your stomach turn, but you knew it was just Steve trying to take care of the two of you. Downstairs you could hear him moving around and then the creak of the steps signaled he was making his way up when you stepped under the hot water, gasping as the heat encased you. 

Steve brought up a tray of food he found in the fridge, making each of you a sandwich with grapes on the side, along with water. He would have done more, but right now he just didn't have it in him. Setting it aside on a night stand, he made his way for the shower. 

In it he could scent your heated body, fresh with the scent of scrubbed soap, and a deep inhale of the steamy air lifted him a bit. He was looking forward to washing off as well, and ridding himself of his clothes, he joined you in the shower. You side stepped out of the spray so Steve could rinse off before going to clean himself. 

Groans of appreciation at the hot water came from both of you and as you finished rinsing off, you took the cloth from Steve’s hand and scrubbed the spanse of his back and shoulders, leaning against it while wrapping your arms around his midsection, enjoying feeling him so warm and solid against you, so very much alive. 

“Mmhh tired Little One?” Steve asked softly while rinsing off his chest, wide hands rubbing the suds away and you pressed a kiss between his flexing shoulder blades before dipping around him to step under the spray, rinsing off the soap. 

“If I said No, would you believe me?” You blinked up at him and he cupped your face in his hands, his eyes scanning over your face that was dripping from the shower, he shook his head and kissed the droplets from your lashes and down to your wet lips, kissing you slowly. Savoring the feel of your warmth in the kiss, his tongue stroking yours before pulling away. 

“I would be telling you that I knew better.” Steve stated while reaching around to turn off the shower and stepping out to grab a towel and hold it open for you to step into. When you did, he whisked you dry and you tucked it around you while leaving the bathroom to make your way towards the bedroom. 

Steve was quick to follow, sure to gather the clothes and going into the bedroom. He found you sitting on the edge of the bed, doing what would normally be your routine before bed even though it was edging right on mid morning. Your hands swiped the light smelling lotion along your arms and over your shoulders. Steve didn't even bother with boxers or sleep pants. He crawled into his usual side, stretching his side and reached over to skim patterns against your back while you let your head dip forward, setting aside the lotion you have been using. “You okay Little One?” 

You gave a shake of your head and you felt Steve’s arm circle around your waist and pull you in closer. You flipped in bed to face him, laying in against him with your head pillowed on his shoulder. “Why did that have to happen? They were just becoming a real pack Steve.” Your hand lifted to wipe at your face and you felt yourself sink further into Steve's hard body the more he rubbed at your hip and along your ribs, dipping along your curves. His rumble was deep when he pressed his lips to the tip of your head, letting his nose press against the crown of your head, burying into your wet hair. 

He wished he had the answer, something to take the pain he could feel tightening inside of you, the bond sharing waves of sorrow for your old pack. Steve tugged you in closer, your face pressing against his chest, and he felt the hot tears start to fall. 

“You should sleep Little One.” He responded while wrapping you in close and you gave a slight nod, wrapping your arm around him as well as your leg. Steve reached over and tugged a sheet over you while you cried against Steve. 

After a while you lifted your head to look up at Steve. “I just want you to know I don’t blame Bucky, Clint, or the twins. I know they are not killers.” 

Before Steve could say anything, you arched up to kiss him, whispering against his mouth. “I love you Steve, always will.” 

“I love you to Y/N” he said softly, flushing gentle nips on your jawline and rubbing his chin against his bite on your neck while you settled back down. Soon after that you went quiet and let yourself fall asleep, Steve though ended up staying awake. His fingers drifted up and down your back while losing himself in thought. The Alpha gave a gentle nudge to the Little Wolf to see that she was sound asleep before he stretched out next to her, watching over the two of them while she slept. 

<You know she wouldn't blame Bucky, it wasn't him. None of that is him.>

It's just… even in the midst of all this, she isn't angry. It's just sadness and I got to just let her feel it. There is nothing I can do. 

<That is not true, we will be there for her, her strength when she needs it.> 

Steve smiled to himself hearing the wolf, as always the beast spoke common sense he sometimes didn't seem to have. Giving a sigh, he let his head fall back to let himself drift off along with his mate.

Hours passed and you woke to find Steve not next to you. Rubbing your face in his warm pillow, inhaling deeply. He hadn't been gone long. Lifting to see where he was, you saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, talking on his cell. 

“Yea, There aren't many left Sam. And they don't have an Alpha anymore to keep them together.” 

You heard Sam respond, but couldn't understand beyond the muted sound of his voice. You shifted across the bed to drape gently against Steve’s back, letting your forehead press against the back of his neck, soaking in the warmth radiating from him.

“Same track of mind Sam, I was just thinking the same thing. I will tell Y/N. Give Sara our love and be ready. Talk soon.” With that he hung up and tossed his phone to the side. You shifted around and moved to straddle his lap, rubbing your hands against the back of his neck. Steve's hands fell to your hips and pressed a kiss to your mouth. “Hello my Little One.” he growled softly while you arched in against him, rolling your hips while you whimpered softly, nipping at his chin gently. 

“Hello Alpha. What did Sam say?” 

Steve rumbled slightly enjoying the feeling of your hands on his neck, the way your fingers brushed into his hair and tugged slightly. “I was filling him in with what happened.” He buried his face in your neck and inhaled deeply, getting lost in you then. “How we are going to offer any that want to come back with us are welcome to stay with us. They can’t stay here.” You worked your fingers against a knot in his upper back, smiling when you felt him groan into the curve of your neck. “That feels so good Little One.” 

Nipping at his ear, you shift to a stand. His hands trailing down the back of your thighs. “Thank you Steve, for taking those in that are in need of a home. For being an Alpha they deserve.” 

He followed up to a stand and reached for the bags to dig out clothes for both of you. “How about we go make the offer together, Little One?” 

Handing over some clothing that you started to pull on, you nodded. 

The wolves that didn't have a place to go ended up taking Steve on the offer, the rest making arrangements to move on. Preparations were also made for burials, those remaining picked a peaceful spot in a clearing. 

Within a few days Sam brought a crew with him, familiar faces and scents easing Steve. It was a solemn event, shared with tears as the ground was broken to lay those to rest. Each grave site was marked with a sapling that Sam had brought with them from the nursery they used to replace the areas they logged. The saplings once all set in place would one day become its own untouched forest, giving some form of life in the midst of the tragedy. That night the clearing was filled with the mourning howls telling the packs life story to the stars. 

Steve took the time to call the other packs in the area, warning them of the recent attack, even though word of mouth had spread. The last number on his list, Tony. He hasn't really talked to the Alpha since the confrontation with Ross, but he just couldn't bypass him.  

Leaning against a tree where the solitude surrounded him, he let the forests calm wash over him while the AI placed him on hold. 

Tony was going over spreadsheets with Pepper when Friday announced Steve Rogers was on hold. The pair looked up at each other in surprise. “Well… this is a surprise.” Tony admonished and Pepper pointed at the phone. 

“Answer it Tony, You know that Steve wouldn't call for no reason.” She grasped both their coffee cups and moved to a stand. Tony groaned a bit while watching his mate leave, making her grin at him over her shoulder. “Now Alpha.” Then she disappeared from sight. 

“Yes Ma’am!” He stated while reaching to pick up the phone and hooking it under his ear. “Stark residence.” 

“Tony? That you?” Steve grumbled into the phone. 

“Yes Steve, it's me.” Tony rolled his eyes up, leaning back to place his feet on the edge of his desk. “What is going on? That's the only reason you ever call me.” 

“It’s not exactly like we're friends, Stark.” Steve started. 

“Ouch Rogers, here I thought we were.” Tony snapped, unable to pass up a chance to rile the serious Alpha. 

“Stark.” Steve started in a warning and then his voice changed. “Listen, there is a group attacking wolves, they just destroyed Y/N’s old pack. Demolished them, there are only a few left.” 

This caught Tony’s attention, dropping his feet and sitting up straight again. “Is it the ones who killed Happy Steve? Who was it?” 

Tony waited, silence on both ends of the call till finally Steve spoke. “I really don't know if they killed Happy or not Tony. I will say if they did… it wasn't by choice.” 

Tony snapped to a stand while Pepper came back in, immediately her wolf was agitated seeing her mate gripping the edge of his desk, his voice sharp with commanding tone looking for answers. The one he used when he was upset, only this was Steve he was talking to. Steve couldn't be commanded by anyone. She immediately set the coffee down and went around the desk, her hand moving along his back while he snapped into the call. “But you suspect it, don't you Rogers.” 

“I'm not saying anything, all I'm saying is that you know Bucky, Clint, Pietro and Wanda would never hurt anyone willingly, not innocent lives.” 

Tony and his wolf stalled a moment. <He found them, finally.> Tony had as much invested as Steve, seeing that the twins were his pack mates. But none of his trackers were able to get as close as Natasha had been able to, all these months they just kept hitting dead ends on trails gone cold. 

“Did you see them?” He finally asked and Steve gave a Mmhm in response. 

“They weren't themselves Tony… those fucking collars Pierce had, they had something similar on. Thinner, filled with magic. I've seen them before, years ago. And only one has ever escaped them that I know of.” 

“You're talking about when you worked for Fury in Shield.” 

“Yes, when Bucky and I were in the Howling Commandos unit. I also think I can get some answers. As soon as these wolves are settled, I'm going to go get them. You have my word.” 

Tony sat back down, easing Pepper into his lap for the connection. “Whatever you need Rogers, let me know.” 

“I was hoping you would say that.” Steve responded. 

You stood at the car Kat had packed, holding her hands in yours as a teary goodbye was said. “Kat just stay safe out there, okay? I wish you would come home with me. No Man's Land, being a Lone Wolf…” You worked your lip, wrinkling your brow. “Who's going to watch your back?” 

Kat smiled sadly, shaking her head. “I need to be by myself. Maybe, maybe Caine is still out there you know? We don't know what they did with him. I have to go look for him.” 

You squeezed her hands, trying to make her hear your next words. “That's what Steve is trying to do, him, Natasha, other packs. They are doing their best to find Bucky, Clint, Wanda and Pietro. Bring the other Alphas home.” 

“Im not looking for everyone, I’m just looking for one.” Kat stated softly while untangling her hand from yours and circled her arms around you in a hug. “I know they are trying, but I have to look on my own too. I can't just sit and wait for others.” Her head dropped to your forehead, and you both just inhaled against each other in your last embrace, committing each other to memory till your paths crossed again. You had to relent. If it was Steve, you would be doing all you could to find him to. 

“Stay safe Sister.” You whispered and Kat pulled away with a nod, digging out her keys and slipping into the driver's seat. You circled your arms around yourself, watching as the car pulled away and out of sight. With a sigh, you turn to head back to the cabin, watching as Steve continued loading up a truck from someone's house. Lifting the last bag of clothes in, Steve circled around a truck he was loading up for another and wrapped you into his arms, kissing the top of your head. 

“She will come back when she's ready, Little One.” He hugged you in close as your head laid on his chest, giving a nod. 

“I know, it's just hard letting any of them go on their own.” 

Steve hummed a bit in agreement. “Everyone here is ready to go, Natasha is coming back to bring them home.” You lifted your head in wonder as to why the two of you werent. Steve rubbed your back, looking down at you. “We're going somewhere else.” 

“Where are we going?” you tilted your head in question, loosening yourself enough to look at him without craning your neck. 

“Stark. Remember how I was telling you I've seen it before? When Bucky and I were in the Howling Commandos?” You gave a nod to confirm. “The shifter who got away, he went back to his home. I want to find him, ask him how he managed to break loose of the collar.” 

“So… where are we traveling to?” 

“Norway.” 

Your eyes widened a bit, echoing what he said. “Norway?” 

“Yup, if Fury’s intel is correct that Tony acquired, a little town called New Asgard.” 

You couldn't hide the grin, knowing then what that meant. “Means were getting a jet, aren't we?” 

Steve gave a wink at you, breaking out in a grin of his own. “Sure does Little One, you gonna let me teach you to fly it?” Clearly remembering how much you had enjoyed the ride from Wakanda in T’Challa’s jet. 

You played your fingers up his shirt, skimming fingers against his stomach, gently scratching over his muscles that twitched in response to being touched by you. “I'm going to insist on it Alpha.” 

Steve huffed at your playfulness, snapping his teeth near your lips and clasping his hands against your ass, giving a squeeze that made your arch into him with a giggle, some of your sadness fading away being with him. “Look at you getting all demanding. I like it.” He nipped at your lips and you smiled against his mouth, growling back at him momentarily. “But let's finish up here and we will get on the road again Little One.” 

It was a few hours till Steve and You were the last ones left, while you waved goodbye to the last car driving away, the compound now eerily quiet. Steve nipped at your neck, nuzzling the back. “Ready to head to New York Little One.” You reached behind you and took his hand. 

“More than ready Alpha.” 

The drive was several hours, Steve had given you his phone to go through the email that Tony had sent him recalling the information of that particular mission. You read it out loud, while Steve stayed silent listening. Letting the memories of the Howling Commandos wash over him. He could tell the way your voice lifted and words rushed that you were getting caught up in the intel like it was a story. “... And then Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes was taken hostage while covering his team members from higher ground.” You set the phone down, Steve could sense you looking over at him. “How long was he with them?” 

Steve was quiet a moment, his fingers thrumming on the steering wheel. “Weeks Little One. The day he was captured we were removing prisoners from an experiment facility and I had scanned the area. It was all clear, so I thought. Somewhere I missed them coming back into the grounds and Bucky… well he was so focused on making sure the victims were being covered from above that they were able to take him hostage.” 

“How was he when you all found him?” You moved over closer to Steve, and he reached over to grasp your thigh lightly, his thumb sweeping back and forth soothing, probably more for himself then for you. 

“Luckily they had difficulty moving Bucky around, I'm guessing he put up a fight stalling their plans. Made it alot easier to track them with them being hindered. When we found Bucky he wasn’t as some other hydra victims but he was weak. Some of the damage was irreversible. His left arm was damaged, and as a wolf why he limps like he does on that left side. Some of the trauma to his mind.” Steve went quiet once more and you leaned your head against his shoulder, pulling your legs up. “Before that happened, Bucky would have been the next Alpha. He had the mentality for it, outgoing, part of the crowd, a born leader. Afterwards though, he almost left the pack to No Man's Land. There were so many times the Pack mentality was just too much, disappearing into the White Wolf for weeks living feral on the other side of the lake.” You heard the tinge of sadness in your mate for his closest friend, mourning for the man he once was. 

“But he had you, Steve.” 

Steve’s jaw clenched, the muscle ticking a bit. “If I had been more diligent, Bucky never would have been caught.” That's when it hit you that Steve blamed himself for what had happened. You tilted your head to inspect him, and Steve glanced at you from the corner of his eye, patting your leg. “All in the past Little One. Right now we're focused on what we have to do today.” 

You settled in against him. “You got him back then, we will get him back again Alpha.” 

He rumbled slightly without saying anything else. But his foot dropped on the gas pedal, picking up speed in order to get to New York faster. 

It was edging on midnight when he finally pulled up to Stark Towers, which Tony was waiting right out front with Pepper at his side to greet them. When Steve got out of the truck, he held out his arm and slipped it around your waist to have you slide out, when your feet hit the ground, you arched in a stretch and a yawn, making Tony chuckle. 

“It's quite a ride, I'm glad to see you two make it.” He said genuinely, holding his hand out to Steve in greeting, which the Alpha accepted with a hand shake and one to Pepper as well. 

“Pepper, pleasure as always.” Steve greeted Pepper warmly, and she returned the handshake. Tony took one look at you, giving a slight bow of his head. 

“Y/N, I sincerely hope you forgive my actions after my last visit to your home. Regardless of the circumstances, it shouldn't have happened.” 

You take a moment to consider, Steve rubbing his hand along your back reassuringly when you give a nod and hold out your hand. “Accepted Tony, Thank you.” The Alpha covered your hand in his with a smile. 

“Thank you Y/N. Now let us give you a place to crash for the night? The jet is still getting fueled and might as well head out well rested. Norway is a several hour flight, even for one of my machines.” 

Steve glanced at you as you did back at him, both of you coming to a silent agreement as the soft pattering of rain started around you, and the four of you escaped back inside. Steve gave a slight shake of his head to rid himself of the rain water and you used your sleeve to wipe away the rain water from your face. Heading for the elevator, Steve and Tony discussed some of what had happened the past few weeks, Pepper once in a while asking her own question, and Steve drawing you into the conversation when needed. But you simply answered the questions before falling silent once more, not really having the energy to be engaging to their hosts. 

After several moments, the elevator dinged and Friday announced the floor level while it opened. The entire floor was a wide open floor plan, Pepper smiling at the couple. “We hope you two will be comfortable here.” 

Steve nodded and you reached over to embrace Pepper for her kindness. “It's more than enough, thank you.”

“We will leave you two kids to rest then.” Tony was prepared for a quick exit, which both you and Steve were grateful for given the long trip there and the one upcoming.  

Biding good night, you and Steve were left alone to settle in for the night. Steve was quick to send you to shower, knowing it would make you feel better and he went in after you while you dressed in some pajamas, brushing out your hair while you wandered the suite looking around. 

You stopped at the ceiling to floor windows that ran along one wall in the suite. Your room was almost at the top of the tower, it gave an expansive view of New York City at night. It almost stretched as far as you could see, and it made you feel a bit small so high above it all, all these lives not knowing you were looking down on them. The water from the rain streamed down the panes of glass making everything slightly out of focus. Your fingertips pressed against the coolness of the glass, tracing the streams of water running down in an endless rush to get someplace else. 

Behind you, you could hear the water to the shower turn off and the sounds of Steve moving around before the door creaked and the light to the bathroom shut off to leave you both in the dark of the room. There was a bed behind you, large and inviting after a day of travel, and you should make your way there. But the beauty of the glowing city held you enraptured. 

Feeling the warmth of Steve's body move up behind you through your thin sleep shorts and tank top, you sunk back into the hard length of his body, your eyesight going out of focus to see Steve’s reflection in the glass, his eyes glowing a soft yellow haze in the darkness where the Alpha was so close. You inhaled deeply, reaching behind you to draw his arms around you, shifting his hands to slide under your shirt. 

“You smell so good Alpha.” You whispered as his fingers trailed the band of your shorts and dipped beneath them. “Woodsmoke and the forest, home.” You could feel him easing to touch you, the rumbles coming from his chest sparking your arousal. It had been days since you felt him like this, not since the day of the attack. 

Thick fingers traced your folds, easing into your heat while circling your clit. Your head fell back to his shoulder with a satisfied sigh. Steve trailed his nose from the crown of your head down to your neck while he circled slowly, pressing down hard enough to make the heat in your belly grow and your legs have a slight shake. Snaking his other arm around you, he palmed your breast into his palm, sinking his teeth into your neck to keep you held against him. 

“You remind me of home, always so good for me. Letting me take care of you. I love you so much Little One.” He growled softly and you spread your legs for him further, letting him take over. Fingers sunk into you, scissoring against your fluttering walls that started to clench, trying to hold on as he stroked your walls, knowing just where to find that spot that made you cry his name. 

“Steve, uh- more please.” you whimpered out, with Steve you could become needy, wanting only what he could give you.

Steve smirked against your neck hearing you, feeling your wetness start to pool against his palm that he was now using to press against your clit while his fingers plunged back into your wanting heat, moving faster the more you started pressing your ass back into him while rocking in his palm. Your hands were made to press against the glass as Steve stepped forward, pushing you to trap you between him and the windows. The coolness of the glass seeped through your thin tank and the warmth of Steve's fingers rolling over your nipple made it pebble, taunt and sensitive, making you whine out sharply. 

“Steve I have to-” 

Steve rumbled behind you with encouragement, your hips rocking faster and rubbing his cock harder between your ass cheeks. You could feel it rigid and thick with desire but it was all lost when he nipped behind your ear, his breath hot while he growled out his words. “Come on My Little One, My Omega, show me how good you feel.” 

The spiral of heat exploded from your belly to rush all over, locking to hold him while Steve was sure to keep you upright. The city lights wavered in your gaze, losing any focus till they became starbursts in the glass. 

Your forehead leaned against the cool glass, your hot breath fogging up the glass while you came back from your orgasm, the bursts of lights started to come back into focus when you felt Steve hard behind you, rutting his hips against yours.

He growled possessively against your mark, gathering you in his arms, ready to take you to bed and finish what he started. You clung to him, rubbing into his body with a purr of satisfaction, seeking that mindless escape with your Alpha. 

[weirdoldmanhoho]

do u have any fic recs?

Sorry it took me years to answer this! The truth was I really hadn't read many FMA fics (at least not since the FF days) and was waiting until I actually had some recs to give.

And now I have some! My list will surprise no one, I'm sure.

Soul Friends by KyberHearts

“They were not always, and simply, two minds in one body. Towards the latter part of their alliance, especially in the heat of battle and warmongering, their souls could not distinguish where the prince began and the sin ended.”

Ling Yao returns to Xing to seal his fate as the next Emperor and sets his plans for reunification and peace in motion.

Elsewhere, Alphonse Elric reconciles with the very Truth that stole his body.

I absolutely love the way this fic writes post-canon Alphonse and his relationship with Truth.

--

Damaged by xmypandabear

'"He's still in the hospital too, with the Lieutenant," Alphonse said dully. "Blood loss - someone slit her throat..." Ed stared up at the ceiling, remembered the scientist with the gold tooth, and shuddered at the image his brain conjured of the Lieutenant lying on the floor. "But Mei helped her! So, they're sharing a room - the Colonel and Hawkeye, I mean, not Mei, 'cause the Colonel can't use his hands yet, so she's helping him..."

"His hands?" Ed tried to remember.

"It's how they forced him to do it," Al whispered. "They pinned him down so he couldn't move."

Ed fought back nausea. The sense of wrong, wrong, wrong pervaded every sense of his being. How the fuck was any of that equivalent exchange?'

Love me a good post-promised day healing and processing fic. This one focuses a lot on how Al, Ed, Winry, and Roy are all doing immediately post-promised day and the relationships between all those characters.

--

Joining of Hands by ehmazing

If you're not breaking a couple of laws, is it really an Elric wedding?

Truly, the best thing about an AlMei wedding is all the hijinks and complications the come from foreign customs and marrying into royalty.

--

Legends by Elfpen

Alphonse Elric has been living and studying in Xing for a little more than a year and a half. Now, Ling has asked him - ordered him - to take on a new responsibility and fill the shoes vacated by Van Hohenheim four centuries ago. But what use are legends, really, when they're all frauds? The Son of Heaven and the Son of the Western Sage see it differently.

You ever find a fic that just feels completely catered to you and your interests? I love everything about this fic. Alphonse in Xing and the weird politics he has to maneuver as not only an incredibly skilled foreign alchemist but a close friend of the emperor's - all at a young age. His relationship with Hohenheim and the grief and confusion that comes from never really getting to KNOW Hohenheim and now having to come face to face with the lasting impact his father left on a foreign country. Ling scheming. It's all very, very good.

--

The Principle of Mentalism by The-Immortal-Moon (LunaKat)

There’s a woman with a wrench and a penchant for alcoholism, and what he doesn’t know is that she’s going to change everything.

Another fic that feels like it was written specifically for my interests. This one explores Pinako and Hohenheim's first meeting and how a rowdy mechanic from Resembool and a reserved guilt-written immortal from Xerxes ever became friends in the first place. Features Hohenheim and his one million soul friends and a young awkward Pinako who I want to give SUCH a big hug to. I love it so much.

--

We'll be Holding on Forever by zipadeea

"Hohenheim left them to save the world. But Dad loved them more than everything in the world."

AU where Alphonse gets his body back a little earlier on the Promised Day.

It changes nothing.

It changes everything.

Read this if you want to cry. It focuses on Ed and Hohenheim's relationship and it is full of pain but also healing and understanding. Great quick read.

--

ticket stubs and your diaries by nerdywriiterchild

Alphonse Elric is almost fifteen. He will never know Xerxes.

This one is short but packs a powerful emotional punch and a really interesting character study into only a few paragraphs. Explores the really interesting question: what is it like to mourn a culture you're a part of but will never really know?

--

Briding Her Time in Wait

The wedding date was set. Winry and Ling had screamed at one another for months during the preparation out of a mutual need for their childhood friend and half-sister to have the most incredible wedding in the history of either Amestris or Xing, and as a result the wedding canopy suffered from a unique blend of western and eastern traditions that left guests from both sides of the desert confused and requesting refills on drinks that didn’t exist. Still, the two wedding planners manipulated the day into running smoothly, Ling pulling his Emperor card when necessary, Winry pulling her, well, Winry card when necessary, while Ed and Lan Fan stood awkwardly around the food table making small talk that mostly consisted of complaints about automail. By the time the golden groom was ushered through a beautification process that left him requiring an escort to avoid the various women—and men—attempting to seduce him at the last minute, the guests were settled and the wedding was ready to roll.

Except no one knew where the hell the bride had gone.

I'm always a sucker for Scar and Mei's relationship.

--

One More Time, With Feeling

In the end the Elric brothers laughed over the irony: The traveller had settled to write books on alchemy while juggling two boisterous children blessed with Rockbell rockheadedness and Elric recklessness, and the settler had taken to travelling between Amestris and Xing for the remainder of his life. It came, really, with having two homes.

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

A bird could love a fish, but where would they live?

This one explores Alphonse's relationship with Mei post-series and is VERY in line with how I picture it. Being in love with a foreign princess in line for the throne with a duty to her people and country would make for a very complicated and often strained relationship.

--

Magic and Mind by Preelikeswriting

Of all things Edward was prepared for as the day of reckoning grew near, being transported from one world on the edge of war to another was not one of them.

AKA: Edward gets accidentally summoned by Death Eaters, and neither party is happy.

(Pre-Promise Day, HP book 5)

Ok so preface: I rarely like crossover fics and I very rarely like HP crossover fics, but this one just works for me. I think what I like so much about it is that Edward doesn't just get thrown into the world of HP and join the golden trio / order and start fighting Voldemort. Oh no. He does not care about their fight at all. He just wants to get back home and will do anything he needs to to achieve that, even if it makes him look like he's working with Death Eaters or going against Harry and friends.

I think the fun of this fic is that it kind of plays around with the fact that the READER knows who the good guys are of each series and would expect them to join forces. Sure, Ed is the Good Guy of FMA and Harry and friends are the Good Guys of HP, but Ed's goals don't really align with Harry's goals and so they're not really working together, and Ed kind of comes off looking shady af to the HP characters despite the fact that the reader knows why he's doing what he's doing. It's a far more interesting take on Ed goes to HP world than "Ed immediately joins the fight against Voldemort."

The series has three works so far and I haven't finished it, but I really loved the first and what I've read of the second. It also eventually heads into Ed/Draco territory which is not a ship I would have initially read but.....kind of works for me here.

[blufox234isadumbname]

Las Nevadas and Poker Cards theory

/rp /dsmp (all of the mentioned people are characters of the Dream SMP. not the actual content creators)

---

So this began with a random thought floating in my head about the new characters introduced to the Las Nevadas lore in Episode 3. This sparked the reawakening of my obsession with cartomancy and the meanings behind playing cards. So subsequently, I decided to associate the new four characters to the four symbols of the playing card deck

For a brief intro to playing cards, the standard 52-card deck uses the French suit - which include the diamonds, hearts, clubs and spades. Each suit/symbol includes three face cards (King, Queen and Knave) and ten numbered cards (Ace of ... to Ten of ...) The suit of cards varied throughout history before the French suit became popularised. Most of the derived meanings of the card suits themselves have mostly been very much after the creation of the suits, but I still think their symbolism is still interesting to look back into. The changes to each suit along with each varying meaning will be highlighted in individual sections. So, let’s start with:

Foolish

For the first chapter, Quackity mocks Foolish of being inferior to the tempered god he used to be. Foolish in his current state is a pacifist, a normally non-violent character who doesn’t take the offence. To Quackity, that achieves nothing, backed up by how Foolish was killed off in a selfless act and could not fight back. Quackity mocks the temple Foolish built, saying it is merely an empty shell only made to look pretty. Like Foolish, it is only impressive on the outset, but when it comes to its use it does not serve a function. The magnificent temple is merely for show, like how Foolish appears as a god of undying yet still was able to lose a life. Quackity actively tries to paint a picture of that perception to Foolish, trying to convince Foolish that such a lifestyle has not been beneficial. What Quackity offers to Foolish is a chance to make a name for himself, by doing the opposite. Quackity wants Foolish to cause destruction instead of creation. He wants Foolish to be a cannon, to take the brunt of

Clubs in the French suit have been thought to represent peasants. They are the weaker members of the society, the ones without a legacy to leave behind unlike those higher above them. This is what Quackity view Foolish as, a mere peasant who does not leave his own mark even despite being a god. When it comes to tarot readings, the clubs are seen as the wands. This particular suit tends to refer to calls to action, associated with the element of fire. They represent both aspects of creation to build and cook, and of destruction. It is symbolic of passion, where one’s motivations lie within. Meanings behind the wands deal with one’s own consciousness, what one’s own ambitions, what makes a person create action. It’s also interesting to see that Foolish in the past, brought destruction to a town with lava. So with this suit, Foolish is seen to need to take more offensive action. He needs to take the chance with Las Nevadas to create that action, to create destruction as he did before. To become more than the lowly being he is now.

Charlie

This one is trickier to pinpoint what suit he is since this is the first and currently only time we’ve seen him in the lore. In the time he was introduced, we can still deduce something about his story in the Las Nevadas arc. For instance, his role in Las Nevadas is being a mole for Quackity. Like a more goopy Hercules Mulligan, he can acquire intel and slink out with ease. He is a shapeshifter technically, able to mimic anything. The only seen problem he has is his unawareness of the world around him, basically akin to a child experiencing the world for the first time.

So I associate Charlie with the Spades, the commonly associated symbol for nobility. To Quackity, Charlie is not someone too hard to influence while at the same time may seem to have influence with the knowledge he holds. In past iterations of the spade, it was a sword. Even in Italian, the swords suit was referred to as a spade before it became the symbol. Charlie is the secret weapon with the intel he holds. Charlie is the most important to Quackity, the one who holds the most value above all the other candidates. Unlike the others, Quackity doesn’t berate or deliberately ruin what Charlie has, mostly because he has nothing to begin with. Instead, he is praised and gifted a home, like how nobility, when they are born, are simply gifted their titles. As the swords suit in tarot, spades represents aspects of thinking and communication. From his spy job, Charlie might open his eyes to a complicated world in a childlike manner. He’ll learn slowly but surely, whilst slowly having his perceptions being altered by Quackity. He already has shown doing this by lying to Charlie about snow. It is Q’s goal to coerce the easily swayable Charlie to blindly follow him akin to a child following a parent

Purpled

A mercenary after wealth, Purpled is being offered to join Las Nevadas in exchange for money. It is shown he is competent at sticking to what he believes in, but he does still follow the money mostly. However, Purpled is after more than just simple jobs to accrue wealth, which is what Quackity baits him with. He blows up the only thing that gave Purpled a name in the Dream SMP and offers him much more than the original incentive from the Red Banquet job. With the UFO gone, Purpled is given a choice to go big or go home, the final decision still unknown by the end of Purpled’s chapter. It’s interesting to see Quackity’s approach with Purpled, he’s much more confrontational with him than the others. Where Foolish was just insulted and Charlie merely being strung along, here Q deliberately makes a statement with TNT and a weapon. This might have to do with how Purpled is to be hired as a mercenary again, the man to depend on to take out a target. The only difference is the massive gain and utmost loyalty to Las Nevadas

Purpled is the suits of Diamonds. This suit has been thought to be associated with the merchants, the ones who gain most from sales of goods and services. To Quackity, he just has to convince Purpled with money beyond his wildest dreams. It’s quite important to note that Diamonds used to be bells in German suits, more specifically hawk-bells. These bells were used for falconry in medieval Europe, to denote a bird’s location and status. This is like what Quackity wants to do with Purpled, to keep the hunter under his guidance and not have his loyalties lie elsewhere. Diamonds in the tarot is seen as the suit of pentacles, concerning everything material and worldly. Pentacles often do not just concern financial matters but anything of security and practicality. It is all about what is realistic, for Purpled that is what he can own. Quackity knows that, he knows to bait the mercenary with money and to gamble with it.

Fundy

This one is a fun one to cover since this chapter is solely from Fundy’s point of view. Not once does it shift to Quackity and what he sees. Only Fundy and his nightmare. In the dream, Fundy wakes up in the middle of a red desert. It’s been said before, but being in a desert represents loneliness and disconnect. He is isolated and alone at first, except for Quackity. When he brought to the memories of L’manburg and its iterations, he views it all in awe. This contrasts with how he reacted before to the caravan, with anger and panic. In the dream with Quackity, he happily remembers the times of the past with Quackity, even if they were the most tragic times of L’Manburg’s history. The most notable thing about Quackity in the dream is the fact that he constantly makes Fundy feel noticed, make Fundy feel known and present. Fundy is not invalidated for his involvement in L’Manburg’s history. For once, Fundy feels happy. So when it twists around in Eret’s tower, a reminder of countless wars, the scene shifts to have Quackity in control. Fundy is told he does not matter all over again, told he will be as forgotten as L’Manburg’s history.

Fundy is the suit of Hearts, the suit associated with the clergy. This refers to someone with religious duties or more generally concerning what a person holds within their heart. This person is only important due to the group they associate with, similar to Quackity saying Fundy does nto matter until eh chooses to join with him. Besides just solely the card suits, the Heart tends to represent feelings and relationships. The latter part is an integral part of Fundy’s story, how his relationships with others always tend to fall apart. Feelings are important to Fundy too since he’s only attached to many things because of those feelings. He almost gains nothing but emotional support. And really, that’s is just always been something Fundy has been after – someone to depend on. And so, Fundy is swayed by the promise of a stable relationship with others, something that his dream pre-empted to be used by Quackity. Hearts in the tarot is seen as the Cups or Chalice, which represents everything of emotions as well. More interestingly, the suit of Cups deals with the unconscious too, even dreams. Pretty matching.

 So what does it exactly mean for these connections with the poker cards? Well, to use the cards is to play the game of gambling, the game of poker. And that is what Quackity sees these people as, tools to use to win the game. He’s collecting these cards to gain a winning hand. It’s also evident that he’s pushing these cards to gamble as well. He cuts off all attachments they have and force their hand to take a risk. Foolish has to risk being destructive again. Charlie risks confiding with an untrustworthy friend. Purpled risks losing actual money. Fundy risks losing mental stability all over again. It’s all about taking a risk, something that Quackity is taking advantage of to win. The perception of the cards all come down to how Quackity sees what to string all of these people along to join his cause. In the end, Quackity only cares about what benefit it will bring to Las Nevadas, instead of giving sure promises of such high rewards for tagging along. With the parallels between how Quackity views the members to how Dream views others, it’s fun to see how Quackity sees more and more of this project as a game of chance he’s willing to take. So how will the game play out for all these cards? Only fates can tell.

[ask-them-bois]

Of Monsters and Matriarchs, pt 2/3

pt.1

TW: PTSD flashback, attempted mugging

TLDR: Deadscar heads for the desert. A new troll arrives.

.

Ishran cinched the strap on his bag and stood, swinging the pack onto his shoulder. He picked up his war hammer, sliding it into its holster between the bag and his back. Finally, he tied up his hair, made sure his campfire was out completely, and set out.

He’d been camped on the outskirts of the city for several nights, but now, mere hours after the meeting with Musrio and the other ancestors, it was time to leave. He made for the trackscuttler station, remembering the Decaying’s directions.

He stepped up onto the platform and looked around; the station was empty, as far as he could tell. No one was even in the ticket booth, the lights all dark. He found an old board that listed the trackscuttlers’ arrival times, but all of them were marked the same way: “Canceled.”

It was abandoned, he realized. Trackscuttlers were still a popular mode of transportation all over Alternia, and he idly wondered what would cause the station to shut down. Perhaps a better one had been built elsewhere.

Regardless, he put his curiosity aside; the inquiry of why a station was powered down was not his mission. Finally, he located a map of the tracks, in a case that stood in the middle of the station. It depicted most of the continent he was currently on, and it was easy to locate the desert; the landmass he resided on only had one, albeit a rather large one.

If Lucina wasn’t there, then he’d have to head overseas. First things first, though- he located the tracks that wound through the desert. There was only one track, and someone had scribbled over part of it in red marker.

Undeterred, Ishran followed the trail to the station he was currently at; it stood to the west of the desert, which meant he had to head east. Satisfied, he turned to survey the tracks by the station. They pointed north and south, but following the northern one would eventually take him the correct way.

A squeak of a shoe behind him was his only warning as a knifepoint was suddenly pressed to his shoulder.

“Give me everything in the bag, geezer, or I’ll gut you like an oink-beast.”

Ishran didn’t move for a moment, before he finally turned his head slightly to look over his shoulder.

Behind him, their only knife left pressed against the oliveblood’s skin, looking rather gaunt and messy, was none other than Fayroe Fallen.

The young fuchsia’s eyes were bloodshot, their undersides dark from lack of sleep. His fins were wilted, horns bare of jewelry; he’d either hidden them or sold them. He was covered in bruises and scrapes, his clothes worse for wear than ever before.

Outwardly, Ishran didn’t react at first, but his thinkpan was flashing warning lights as wailing sirens went off, unbidden memories whirling through his mind as he stared at those horns.

Pain, pain, pain- shackles, bolts embedded in his wrists, chains beating his back, dragging him like a dog, the coliseum, his hammer, smashing through skin and muscle and bone. Breaking, breaking, scars and bleeding and no rest. Beast and troll crying out, the deafening cheers as his knuckled crumpled bone like faygo cans-

The whirring, chittering, subsonic roar of the drones. His hammer screaming off of carapace, chitinous armor flying across sand, sparks from the contact and then- pain. Naught but pain, struggling to breathe, burning lungs and broken ribs and PAIN-

When he snapped back to himself, Ishran found himself knelt on the prince’s chest, the knife spinning across the floor and his hands on the kid’s throat, teeth bared. Fayroe had his arms up to shield himself, as if expecting a beating.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, please-! I didn’t mean it, please don’t kill me!” The seadweller’s wails suddenly cut through the ringing in his ears. They sounded terrified and desperate, sobs hitching in their chest.

Ishran stared down at the sniveling fuchsia, his hands lax around their neck as he tried to mentally catch up with what just happened.

“Please, I didn’t mean it- I’m j- j- just so h- hungry- I w- wasn’t going to hurt you!” Fayroe continued to babble, covering his face with his arms.

The oliveblood managed to lurch to his feet and stumble away. He leaned on the map case with one hand, his blood-pumper hammering in his chest. Adrenaline was screaming through him, the likes of which he hadn’t felt in a long time. He couldn’t breathe properly, he almost felt sick, but he managed to suck in a shaky breath.

“Who… are… you.” He spoke through clenched teeth. Behind him, the sniveling stopped abruptly.

“Wh- what?”

“You’re Enforcer’s spawn.”

“Yes?”

“What are you doing here?” He demanded, his voice shaky but even.

“I’m- I was just- I am-”

“Out with it, boy.” Ishran snapped.

“I was sleeping!” Fayroe shouted, his voice echoing around the empty station.

“… Here?”

“Yeah?”

“… Why?” Ishran wasn’t sure why he was asking. He didn’t even want to know, but the talking was making the buzzing in his skin fade. He turned to face Fayroe again, and saw the young troll had sat up, eyes huge in the gloom.

“Why do you care? Who are you?” They sniffed.

“I do not care. I am Ishran.” Deadscar stated bluntly, “Now answer my question.”

“I don’t take orders from lowbloods.”

Ishran’s brows settled low, and he turned away. “Fine.” He headed for the tracks.

“Wh- you’re leaving?”

“I have places to be.”

He heard Fayroe scramble to their feet. “Wait!”

He stopped.

“… Where… where are you going?” The fuchsia asked, trying to sound casual.

“Why should I tell you?”

“W- well- because you’re the Deadscar, aren’t you? Fath- Godric, talked about you a lot.” Oh, Ishran didn’t like that. There was a beat of silence, in which Fayroe was probably expecting a response. When that didn’t happen, he continued. “Take me with you.”

“I do not take orders from highbloods.”

“Wh- yes you do! You have to!”

“No.”

“But- but- but that’s-”

Ishran turned around to look at the descendant again. “I take orders from no one, boy, especially not the successor of the Enforcer.”

At that, Fayroe laughed bitterly, catching him off guard. “Successor? Not anymore, I’m not. Descendant, sure, but no successor.” He scuffed one foot against the platform. “… I got chased out. That’s why I was sleeping in here.”

They were interrupted as their stomach let out a feeble, yet loud gurgle, and they put their hand on their stomach. Their fins, somehow, drooped further.

“You are hungry.”

“I don’t have any money. I’ve got nothing but my hop-beast.” Fayroe huffed, shuffling his feet some more. “Godric saw to that.” Ishran looked around for said hop-beast, but Fayroe shook his head. “I left her with… erm… a friend. Or I guess, a former acquaintance, an engineer, who I made take her for a while. But she’s all I got.”

“Then we understand each other.” Ishran said, unmoved. Fayroe looked up, puzzled. “All that you see on my back is all I have anymore.”

“Oh…” An awkward pause fell. Tired of lingering, Ishran turned away again. “Wait- where are you going?” Fayroe called.

“To the desert.”

“Take me with you!”

Sighing, Ishran turned back once more. “Why?”

“I… I can be useful! I’m good at this survival stuff- I’ve lasted this long! It’s been…” They quickly ticked on their fingers, “Five weeks? Six?” They frowned, before looking back up. “Regardless, I can rough it, same as you, but I’m not… as good. Teach me, please! I’ll listen to everything you say, I’ll be helpful, I’ll-”

Ishran wasn’t really listening past that, memories once more overwhelming him. For a moment, he didn’t see a fuchsiablood, but a lime, standing before him and demanding to be taught how to use a bow. He’d been alone on the road for so long- his blood-pumper twinged with the thought of being on the move again with Amadri.

“- and, okay, I don’t know how to start a fire, or cook, or clean, but I’m willing to learn! I just don’t want to be alone anymore...” Fayroe’s words cut through the fog again, and the vision of Amadri was gone. “And I swear I won’t-”

“Fine.” Ishran said, making the younger troll stop.

“Huh?”

“You may join me. But you are to listen to my every order. You may be fuchsia, but I am your elder. You will not speak down to me, and I will not punish you for the sins of your father.”

Fayroe blinked at him, before they grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “Okay! Yes! You’ve got it, Deadscar!”

Ishran nodded once, and turned away for the final time. “Come, then.”

“Wh- now?”

“Yes, now.”

He kept walking, hopping down from the platform and following the tracks. Behind him, he heard Fayroe scoop up their knife and run after him. “Thank you, thank you, oh you won’t regret this, I swear!”

Ishran only grunted.

“So where are we going?”

“The desert.”

“Yeah, I know. Why, though?”

“To find someone.”

“Oh. Who?”

“A woman.”

Fayroe sighed, giving up on making conversation. He trailed after Ishran, pouting in silence, as they followed the tracks. . . . Regret, regret, regret- Irritation buzzed under Ishran’s skin like stinging wasps. It’d been just over a week- nine nights, to be exact- since he’d set out with Fayroe in tow. It’d taken a bit of rearranging on Ishran’s part, and a stop in a town to pick up extra supplies, but they were managing well enough. The oliveblood had even been nice enough to get Fayroe his own sleeping cocoon. His tent was really only meant for one, but Fayroe was small enough that they could squeeze in it together to sleep.

They woke before the sun had fully set each night, ate, and set out, stopping for only fifteen minutes every four hours for water and a small snack. When dawn approached, Ishran found a place to set up camp. They had dinner, then went to bed.

All of that would have been fine, had he had Amadri with him. But-

Ishran was not a religious man, yet he was just about ready to pray for mercy. Fayroe did not. Stop. Talking. Perhaps it was because he’d been alone for so long, but what was usually blissful silence was filled with chatter about anything. By the end of the third night, Ishran knew Fayroe’s life story, albeit unwillingly and without any prompting.

The complaining, too, grated on his nerves like sandpaper on stone.

“My feet hurt.” Fayroe had whined, three hours into their journey on the first night.

“They will toughen.”

“Can we take a break?” Was asked the second night, after they’d just set out.

“No.”

“I’m thirsty!” was announced mere minutes later.

“Now is not a time for drinking.”

And “How much farther do we have to go?” was a constantly repeated question.

“Far.” was the constantly repeated response.

Over and over, on and on. Ishran was ready to stuff wax into his ears to make it stop; he longed to have his matesprit with him instead- at least her voice was soothing, and not the snotty, whining drivel. When they made camp, he gave Fayroe tasks that either sent him away or forced him to stop talking, just for a reprieve.

On the sixth night, still following the tracks, they made it to the desert. Ishran filled their canteens and refreshed their rations at an outpost before they’d proceeded.

The desert was made up of rust red sand dunes, towering higher than ocean waves in storms.

It took them half an hour to make it over the first dune, before Ishran had an idea and turned around.

Returning to the outpost, he rented a pair of scaly-hoofs; draconic hoof-beasts used for crossing the desert. On the creatures’ backs, they made it over the dunes with ease. The dunes eventually faded behind them, until they were crossing miles of sandy plains.

For the next few nights, they saw little around them, even as they continued to follow the tracks. There was sparse vegetation, and an occasional covered well where they could refill their drinks. An abandoned shack or two where they could camp. Wild lusii avoided them, and Ishran only ever saw them at a distance.

On the ninth night, though, Ishran urged his beast to a stop before a sign.

“Turn back! Forbidden land!” was scrawled on a sheet of metal in curly writing.

Fayroe came to a stop beside him, examining the sign, too.

“What now?” He asked, pulling down his scarf; he’d wrapped it around his face to keep the sand out of his gills and mouth.

“We keep going.”

“But it says-”

“I can read. But we keep going.”

Ishran snapped the reins, and his beast carried on.

The further they went, the more signs they saw, all in the same writing.

“Danger!”

“Turn back!”

“Cursed land ahead!”

“Monsters roam beyond!”

“Unholy beasts dwell yonder!”

Ishran ignored them all, until, at last, they crested a hill and came to stop at the sight before them.

Bleached white by the sun, the teeth gleaming in the moonlight, was a massive, monstrous skeleton. Beyond it, just visible on the horizon, was the twisted and warped remains of a crashed and abandoned trackscuttler, laid across the tracks.

“What the fuck is that?” Fayroe exclaimed as he rode up beside Ishran.

“A beast’s bones.” He replied, before he suddenly remembered the Decaying’s words:

“No water but the sapphire eye, guarding to the metal serpent. Beast of thirst, watching beast of slake, guarded by beast of bone. … Follow the screaming serpent’s trail, into the red, and find the corpse of lifeless gods.”

Ishran looked towards the trackscuttler again; from the distance, it was faint, but he could make out the gleam of water. A lake, if he were to guess. An oasis.

“A beast of bone.” He corrected himself, “We are close.”

“We are?” Fayroe repeated, surprised. “Oh, good.”

Ishran urged his beast into motion again, and they descended the hill, approaching the skeleton.

It truly was massive; one of the beast’s claws was four times the size of Ishran himself. He couldn’t be sure what it used to be, but it had a gnarled muzzle full of monstrous teeth, and he counted four eye sockets. Twisted and curled horns protruded from the skull, piercing the sky. To walk from the skull to tail would take a half an hour, at least.

As they were by the skull, though, Ishran stopped again. He looked around at their surroundings; nothing moved, not even the wind. He could see what looked like an outcrop of cliffs and rocks to the south. Looking up, he saw the moons were nearing their peak.

“We’ll stop here.” He decided.

“Already?” Fayroe asked.

“Yes.” Ishran turned and dismounted.

Fayroe had learned by then that he wouldn’t get a lot of explanations for much, so he dismounted, too. They put the tent up in silence, up against the jaw of the skull. After a moment’s deliberation, despite being out in the open, Ishran decided to start a fire.

“What if something sees it?” Fayroe asked uncertainly.

“That’s the idea.” Ishran grunted as he got a meal together and passed the seadweller a canteen. Fayroe had been rather selfish with the water, insisting he needed more due to his aquatic nature. Ishran wasn’t totally sure if that was true, but he was willing to give up a portion of his share if it stopped the whining.

Once camp was set up, they’d eaten, and the beasts were given their due of food and water, Ishran sat down, using the beast’s saddle as a chair on the ground. He pulled his dagger out of his boot, and dug in his bag, pulling out a half-carved figurine of a moth.

He set to work carving, flicking the scraps into the fire.

Fayroe sat on his own saddle, chin in hand, as his knee bounced impatiently.

“Whatcha making?” He asked, just to say something.

“A gift.”

“For who?”

“My partner.��

“You have a partner?”

“Yes.”

“What- what’re they like?”

Ishran paused and looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you care?”

“I dunno. Are they the woman we’re here for?”

“No. She is visiting her morail.”

“Oh.”

Ishran had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He resumed his work in silence.

“I’m bored.” Fayroe announced after two minutes.

“Then find something to do.”

“Like what? We’re in a desert! It’s not like there’s a filmhive out here.”

“Count the teeth in the skull. Go hunting. Brush the sand off the beasts. Take a nap.” Ishran listed without looking up.

Fayroe didn’t want to do any of that. After another minute of silence, they spoke again. “Why are we even stopped? We could keep going, you know.”

“We are where we need to be.”

“But there’s nothing out here!” Fayroe pouted.

“That’s enough!” Ishran finally snapped, setting his knife down and looking up. “I am aware there is nothing, but this is the spot I have been seeking.” He explained, ill-tempered, “Now is as good a time as any to rest, for I do not know what comes next. The beasts are tired, I am tired, and I am working out what to do. But there is no point running ourselves to exhaustion without direction, nor is there a point to whining! If you are bored, make yourself productive!” He snarled the last part, “You do not know what is out here, and our voices will attract unwanted attention. Do you wish to fight wild animals? You can’t even skin a dirt-spud!”

“But the fire would-” Fayroe began meekly.

“Would deter animals unused to the light, but be a beacon, perhaps, to the woman I am looking for! You have no thoughts other than those for yourself, boy, and I am sick of it! I did not force you to come, and if you are going to continue to stay, then you will hold your tongue and wait, same as I am!”

Fayroe had shrunk back so far he’d nearly fallen off his seat. Slowly, he scowled, and sat back up. He dropped his gaze, glowering at his shoes. “You sound like him.” He muttered lowly, ““Sit down and shut up, Fayroe. You don’t understand anything, Fayroe. I’m having you fucking tortured for your own good, Fayroe.””

“Perhaps that is because you never stop talking.” Ishran grouched without meaning to.

“Maybe that’s because I’ve never had someone to talk to!” Fayroe snapped back, just barely managing to keep their voice down.

Ishran opened his mouth, before Fayroe suddenly sat up and twisted to stare into the darkness towards the distant cliff outcrop.

Slowly, they got to their feet, eyes trained towards the south. Ishran paused, too, caught off guard by their sudden change in behavior. Neither of them moved for several seconds.

“Boy, what-”

“Sshh!” Fayroe flapped a hand at him, fin-fronds flaring wide as they leaned forward. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, but- do you hear that?”

Ishran paused again and listened, but no sounds other than the fire and the huffing of the beasts came to him. “What do you hear?” He asked.

Fayroe frowned, squinting towards the outcrop. “It’s like… a growl? But constant. A roar? It- look!” He suddenly pointed towards the cliffs.

Ishran fished a pair of farsight-goggles out of his bag and stepped up beside Fayroe, raising them to his eyes. At first, he saw nothing, until he saw the dust plume.

Following it with his eyes, he saw… something, racing towards them. It was dark, and hard to make out, even with the goggles, due to the distance. Whatever it was, it was making a beeline for their camp.

Ishran lowered the goggles.

“Sit down, boy.”

“Wh- shouldn’t we run?”

“No. We will wait for it to come to us.” Ishran returned to his seat, slipping the goggles into his bag.

Fayroe hesitated, but slowly took a seat again.

“What if it’s an enemy?”

“Then it will be dealt with.”

Ishran calmly picked up his dagger and block of wood again, and resumed his work, while Fayroe watched the thing approach.

“Do you have a gun?” He asked after a moment.

“No.”

“Crossbow?”

“I do not use long range weapons.”

“Oh…”

Finally, after fifteen minutes, Ishran could hear the rumbling, too. He decided to break camp and pack up, before he picked up his hammer, bags resting at his feet. Five minutes more, and he got to his feet as the thing roared up to the camp, only to come to a sudden stop.

Now that it was close, Ishran could see the noise had come from an all-terrain buggy, its driver bent low over the handlebars.

The driver in question slowly sat up, pulling goggles up off its eyes.

“Who are ye?” It demanded, dismounting its vehicle, “Thou be on accursed lands and must make leave, posthaste!”

“We could ask you the same thing, weirdo.” Fayroe said haughtily, his hand going for the knife on his belt.

“Stand down, boy.” Ishran ordered. He lowered his hammer himself, squinting at the jadeblood. “What’s your name?” He asked, voice carefully neutral.

The jade looked at him, tiny fins twitching. “Mine compatriots called me Cyber, but mine name be Alaric Evrren.” With a flourish of its hand, it bowed low to the oliveblood.

Outwardly, Ishran’s expression did not change. “Do you know a woman named Lucina?”

Alaric stood back up, brushing its hair back with a flick of its wrist. “Aye, be ye seekers of my ancestor?”

“Yes.”

“What for?”

“We were sent by her husband.”

“We were?” Fayroe asked, surprised.

Both midbloods ignored him.

“Oh, thou speaketh of the great captain? Mine forefather, Faslet?” Alaric nodded slowly, eyes scanning over the two of them. It drew its tongue over its fangs thoughtfully, before it nodded and turned away. “Upon thine word, I trust thou. Follow, and I shall shepherd ye to Lucina.” It mounted its buggy again, slipping its goggles down over its eyes.

Ishran nodded and turned, heading for the scaly-hoofs.

“It’s a funny little weirdo, isn’t it? What does it mean?” Fayroe asked quietly as they sidled up to Ishran.

“They will take us to Lucina.”

“Yeah… who is that?”

“The woman I am seeking.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Once the beasts were saddled, the fire kicked out, and Ishran and Fayroe on their mounts, Alaric revved their buggy to life. It waved and shouted something, before it was off, tearing across the sand.

Ishran and Fayroe snapped the reins and gave chase.

The beasts managed to keep up with the buggy as they made for the cliff outcrop in the distance, the roar of the buggy’s engine drowning the night in noise.

Finally, Alaric swerved to a stop before the cliffs, and the other two slowed their mounts.

Cutting the engine, Alaric leaned on the handlebars and pointed. They’d come to a stop before a yawning cavern opening, one that looked troll-made. It was into the dark cave that the jadeblood pointed.

“Mine foremother lies within.”

Ishran nodded. “Boy,” He addressed Fayroe, “set up camp.”

“Aren’t we going in?” Fayroe asked, surprised.

“No.” Ishran dismounted and grabbed something from his bag, before he walked away.

“So… what’s with the muzzle?” Ishran heard Fayroe ask as he moved some distance away from the cave.

Putting his back to the other two, he turned his attention to palmhusk he’d procured. It was definitely nothing fancy- an older version he’d gotten for cheap at a pawn shop- but it still worked, and was durable for travel. Thumbing through the menus, he raised it to his ear as it rang.

“Aye?” The trembling voice of Ruthless picked up after a few rings.

“We found her.”

[Everyone please welcome Alaric Evrren! (Link to bio)]

[fuckyeahmoriharu]

Apocalyptic OHSHC Story Idea: (MoriHaru centered)

A mysterious deadly virus devastates the world with rising death rates and no known cure or preventative. The only known fact about the virus is those with blood type O are somehow immune.

Society quickly crumbles as terrified chaos erupts. Neighbors turn against neighbors, families are torn apart, and new cults are formed in wake of the immunity revelation. The virus spreads quickly, leaving little to no chance of survival once it hits a city.

The host club are no exception, suffering at the hands of the virus. Kaoru is the first to perish, so unexpectedly that they didn't notice Hikaru showing symptoms. A few days later Hikaru dies, using his last breaths to make them promise they'll survive.

Their families are struggling to keep their empires from crumbling, centuries of progress and wealth nearly collapsing when all their staff abandons their posts to escape the chaos and few of the aristocrats manage to seal themselves in underground bunkers. After word of the Ootori's bunker quickly succumbing to the virus, the respective heirs of the host club make the difficult decision to not bury themselves with their families and stay above ground to find sanctuary elsewhere. The world has already ended, they do not grieve throwing away their fortunes. Their inheritance will mean nothing in the light of survival.

The hosts hear of a community in southern Russia that are accepting healthy outsiders. They debate on whether it's worth the risk but news travels quickly and the regrettably learn it's their own chance.

They set out to travel, first by car until the roads are too congested with abandoned cars, then along the highways until they realize they're easy targets for muggers and gangs, then by foot through forests and valleys where they can hide and forage.

Mitsukuni is the next to go, eventually passing beneath a weeping willow with Takashi sitting by his side, allowing the hanging branches to shield his tears but not his cries. All that's left is Tamaki, Takashi, and Haruhi.

Tamaki knows he's the next to die. His fiance has blood type O, as so does his friend, and he knows he cannot survive this. He can offer her empty promises on borrowed time until the inevitable. A few weeks later his ending begins. He coughs up blood as his fever rages even higher than the day before, his violet eyes dulled with his surrender. Tamaki makes Takashi promise him that he will protect Haruhi and care for her. Takashi agrees, vowing to get Haruhi to the community in Russia with whatever it takes. He promises that she will be safe and live a long happy life. With this, Tamaki feels he can finally let go. Takashi has to tear Haruhi from his body, tolerate her fists pounding on his back, her shrieking demands to let her go, but he carries her away just as tears spill from his own eyes.

The two travel in silence for a long time. Haruhi feels she will never forgive Takashi for not letting her grieve longer. Her anger slowly slips away day by day but the scar remains until one evening, he confesses what he promised to Tamaki, that he will do all he can to care for her in his wake. Haruhi seems to accept his vow but not his person. She will respect his loyalty but she won't allow herself to replace him with Tamaki. In the end she'll realize she doesn't have to replace Tamaki for she can love Takashi while keeping Tamaki's memory alive within her memories.

Months into their travels they must pass a rural village and are surprised to see there are still people living there. They are scared, not dangerous, but a mother approaches the two and begs them to take her two children who are blood type O. The mother is not and knows she doesn't have much time. She needs to give her children a fighting chance to survive and they would surely die here without her. Takashi and Haruhi eventually accept the 5 year old girl and the 3 year old boy, promising the mother they will bring them to Russia.

The elders in the village warn of gangs who scour the rural villages in search of blood type O's they call "type o's". They kidnap them and deliver them to cults and medical labs who are still performing experiments on their blood in search for a cure. Those are kidnapped are never returned and their bodies are later found in the rivers. The elders warn them not to believe their lies and to avoid them at all costs.

Shortly after they leave the village they do come across a gang who wants to take the children, promising they'll give the children a better life, that they have a facility specifically for type o's to live and flourish. Takashi manages to fight them off but not without a knife wound in the side. Luckily it didn't puncture any vital organs so Haruhi tears his shirt to make gauge, just enough a band aid to allow them to keep going.

Haruhi never thought herself to be motherly, as growing up without a mother, but she grows very attached to the children and does all she can to soothe their fears, feed their empty stomachs, and hold them close at night. Takashi makes it a habit to wake up early before the sun rises so he may be on guard, start a fire, and check the traps he set up the night before. Haruhi prepares their food, mends their clothing, and kisses the scrapes and bruises the children get after playing with sticks in the dirt. Takashi even creates two dolls made of sticks and cloth for them to play with.

A year has passed by the time they reach another rural village with people living inside. All the others they've passed through were empty, either deserted or filled with corpses, to which they covered the children's eyes as they walked past.

When they enter the village they are met with type o's, mostly friendly but some a little odd. They decide to stay for a few nights to rest and gather supplies before pressing on.

The first night Takashi and Haruhi meet with the others around the campfire after putting the children to bed. One man expresses his anger over the fact his blood is type o, saying there is no rhyme or reason to who survives and who lives, that mother nature has cursed them all even with an immunity. He says the type o's aren't the lucky ones, they are the unlucky ones who weren't meant to survive but will. They are "typos", as he says.

Haruhi offers that though they cannot explain what has happened they must press forward with their humanity. A woman in the circle bitterly laughs and says there is no humanity in what has happened, to both those who have died and those who will live on. She says she knew wonderful selfless people with all of the good of humanity wrapped into one person who succumbed to the virus, picked off by nature like a cruel punchline. There is no humanity anymore, only the animalistic instinct to survive. That, that is all they are now, animals living in the houses humans once built.

Takashi and Haruhi know they can't stay for long, that this isn't as safe as they thought. They decide to leave in the morning, packing their supplies the night before to make for an easy exit. However, while they sleep a man from the village tries to kidnap the children, waking Takashi and immediately forcing him to draw his knives, crushing the man's neck against the wall, pinning him. The man pleads for them to understand, that they need more type o's or else their village will die. They're way of life with die. They're traditions and history will be nothing but ghosts if they cannot replenish their population. Only a few in the village are actually type o's, making the rest vulnerable and desperate. The man tries to lunge for his knives but Takashi breaks his neck just as he moves. Haruhi turns the children away just in time but they hear the body slump to the floor. They are certain they must leave now. They have overstayed their welcome and they know the man did not act alone.

They escape the village, the two holding the children with their supplies on their backs while they run to make as much distance as they can. Eventually the yelling in the distance stops and they know they are safe again - at least for now.

A month later they come across a barn where five people are surprisingly living. Takashi and Haruhi are hesitant, keeping the children close behind them, but the people aren't dangerous and greet them with rabbit and leek stew. Haruhi and Takashi end up staying a few days at the barn, exchanging information and enjoying the pleasant company. The children find ways to play in the barn while Haruhi keeps an eye on them. It all seems well until one morning when a man allows the boy to come with him to the barn to help with the animals. It was innocent enough, the man wanted to show the boy how to collect eggs and milk the cows, but the boy accidentally startled the mule, making it kick the boy in the chest, breaking his ribs and puncturing a lung.

The men of the village say there is a hospital a day's journey east and Takashi and Haruhi frantically prepare to join them when they hear yells in the distance. The men know the voices to be a cult who collect the type o's to sacrifice as worship. None of the barn people are type o's and the neighboring cults know this. The men urge Takashi and Haruhi to head towards Russia and not follow them to the hospital lest they risk their little girl. Against their better judgement, Haruhi and Takashi head their advice. Haruhi kisses the boy's head and promises him she will find him again. The men promise to bring him to Russia after he is treated at the hospital. There is little time to waste. The boy's injuries are getting worse and the cult is moving in closer. They all leave in their separate ways.

Haruhi cries for days afterwards, holding the girl close as if to never let her go, mourning the loss of their boy. Takashi can only kiss her tears away and promise they will see him again.

.

.

that's all I got so far. but I felt inspired after seeing a news article saying people with the blood type o are less likely to get covid and I thought "hey, Haruhi and Takashi are canonically blood type o".

[rosyfingereddawnn]

only the black rose (chapter 8)

pairing: jimmy page x layla porter (oc)

warnings: big nsfw warning, drinking, jimmy being himself, fluff

words: 3.6k

summary: in the blink of an eye, it’s 1975 and layla’s suddenly joining led zeppelin for their north american tour. throughout the chaos, the band take a liking to her, she builds friendships with the boys, and love blossoms. but all good things must come to an end.

author’s note: so. layla’s a freak in the... well... not necessarily the sheets, i guess? more stressy hands because they're my weakness, and just... please savour the last bit of happiness you get here. that is all. (two more chappies to go!!!) hope you enjoy :) feedback as always is so very welcome!

masterlist

playlist

chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

———

As she’s checking over the stage, ensuring the lights and speakers are set to do their job, Layla’s thoughts roam. After the chaos at the hotel pool, while everyone was asleep, Layla had been anything but. Her tossing and turning had disturbed Jimmy, who had pulled her further into his arms with a tired grunt. She lay there for another hour, her conversation with Jonesy running through her mind over and over. It was obvious she’d have to go back to her own time, and she missed her friends. She missed her mom. She missed everything.

Layla couldn't help, though, but think that maybe she didn’t want to leave.

 She had made friends that meant the world to her, and… she’d found Jimmy. The guitarist had changed her life, and had shown her what it meant to love. She’s falling for him, and it’s not long before she hits the ground. It’ll be worth it, she thinks, for someone like him. Jimmy Page is a rare gem, precious, and she knows that she would spend her life trying to find her way back to him.

A throat clears from behind her, and, looking over her shoulder, Layla spots Peter Grant standing a few feet away. Soft smile resting upon his lips, he steps closer, placing a large hand on Layla’s shoulder.

“Layla, I trust everything’s going well?”

“Yep! Lights and sound are looking good, and the stage is set up. Anything else you need me to do?”

“No, this is perfect, dear,” Peter shakes his head, smile morphing into a smirk as he continues. “Though, you’ve been requested elsewhere. Follow me, Layla.” Leading her through the venue, Peter stops in front of a closed door, a laminated sign next to it reading, “Dressing Room: Led Zeppelin”. Turning to Layla, he holds out an arm, beckoning her to take it.

“Shall we?”

“We shall, Peter.”

Arm in arm, they walk into the room. Robert, lying elegantly across the comfortable couch pressed against the wall, has his eyes closed. He hasn’t thrown up yet, but his voice is hoarse, and he has a terrible cough. Knowing these boys as well as she does, Layla suspects that nothing will bring them down. The show must go on, after all. Bonzo is next to him, Robert’s feet in his lap. The drummer speaks quietly to the sick man, who answers in the voice of a 20-year smoker. Jonesy speaks in hushed tones to Jimmy, eyebrows pinched in worry. Jimmy, Layla realizes, has his finger in a bowl of what looks to be ice water, if the cubes of ice scattered across the table are anything to go by. From the doorway, Layla can’t hear what’s being said, but by the downwards tilt of Jonesy’s lips, she can assume Jimmy’s stubbornness is on full display again. Her entrance with Peter hadn’t been noticed, until Robert’s eyes open to slits and he sits up, a smile breaking out on his face.

“Peter! Ah, look, if it isn’t my favourite little dove…”

“Hey, Robert. How are you feeling?”

“Better, better,” Robert smiles, and stands up to pull Layla into a hug, hands splayed across her back. “All thanks to you, Layla. Seriously, thank you for taking care of me.”

Layla grins in response, waving at Bonzo as she passes. He lifts up a hand, as if to splash the woman, and her face lights up, a giggle flying out past her lips. Layla walks over to Jonesy, and he gives her an uncertain look, beckoning her closer. Leaning close, he whispers into the woman’s ear, a worried glance at the guitarist beside him following.

“He was in a lot of pain, even with the meds, so he, uh… found a bottle of Jack’s and… Layla, he won’t listen.”

As if on cue, Jimmy takes a pull from the large bottle of whiskey that rested next to him on the table. Layla hadn’t noticed it, walking in, but it stuck out like a sore thumb now.

“Hey, petal,” Jimmy slurs slightly, bottle in hand as he sends the woman a lazy smile. Injured finger in plain view now, Layla can see how the nail is completely black, the skin around it still dyed purple from the force applied to it. Layla shakes her head, eyes downcast, as she walks closer to Jimmy. She grasps the bottle of alcohol in his hand, replacing it with her own, a warm palm meeting his.

“Jimmy… you can’t just…” Layla drifts off, not wanting to argue with him this close to showtime. They can always talk about this later, after all. Jimmy, noticing her internal battle even through his alcohol-fueled haze, pulls her into his lap. Jonesy, confident that Jimmy is in good hands, nods at Layla before giving the couple a moment to themselves. Jimmy brings a finger to the apple of Layla’s cheek, stroking it almost hesitantly, as though she would break under a stronger touch. Layla’s eyes, once meeting his, drift to his plump, pink lips. They shine in the artificial light, as he swipes his tongue across to wet them.

“Layla,” Jimmy starts, snapping her out of her trance. Her eyes meet his, and he smirks at her dilated pupils. She knew he had caught her staring, she wasn’t exactly subtle about it. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“What is the meaning of life? Please, answer seriously. This is important.”

“Jimmy, I didn’t peg you as someone who indulges in drunk philosophical discussions.”

Jimmy huffs a sigh, and leans in closer, pressing a quick kiss against her lips. Pulling back, he looks at their joined hands, before meeting her eye once more.

“Humour me.”

“Well—”

Before she could answer, Peter floats back into the room, telling the boys to follow him backstage. It’s showtime, and Layla doesn’t want her guitarist to leave yet. Jimmy looks at her expectantly, green eyes searching her face as though the answer to his question was written in the curve of her lips.

“It’s okay, Jimmy,” she says, squeezing the hand in hers, passing courage from one to the other. “We can continue this after the show.”

Jimmy nods, and releases her hand slowly, not wanting to break the contact. Layla hops out of his lap, and helps him stand. Her lips meet his in a soft kiss, as she presses their foreheads together. Their eyelashes flutter against each other, and the scent of citrus, tobacco and pine was ever-present, invading all of Layla’s senses. Jimmy pulls away first, and walks to the door, glancing back at her over his shoulder. She smiles at him, adrift in the empty dressing room, and he smiles back, walking out the door.

“Good luck, angel.” Layla whispers, voice swallowed up by the silence of the deserted dressing room.

Making her way to the familiar lip of the backstage area, Layla’s hands wring together, her lips bitten red. Robert hadn’t sounded well at all earlier, and Jimmy… It seemed like he was deteriorating right before her eyes. The mixture of codeine and Jack Daniels killed the pain, sure, but he was no longer the sharp, pragmatic man she was falling for. He was too caught up in the burn of the drink down his throat, a way to forget the agony rushing through his hand like a current. Bringing her attention back to the stage, she spots the boys, who share a loaded glance. Robert takes a deep breath, and launches right in. ‘Rock and Roll’ passes without a hitch, save for some voice cracks. If anything though, they add to the authentic performance, the crowd electric as usual. ‘Sick Again’ stuns, followed by ‘Over the Hills and Far Away’, and all is well, until ‘How Many More Times’ rolls around.

It was small. Insignificant, really. If Layla hadn’t been searching Jimmy’s face, entranced by the way his brow furrowed as he got lost in the music, she wouldn't have noticed. Breaking apart from the rest of the band to complete a complicated lick, Jimmy’s fingers trip up on the fretboard. To the audience, the only consequence is a slight dead note in the midst of heavenly riffs. Gazing over at Jimmy, however, Layla could see the discomfort in the downwards tilt of his lips, and the pain stiffening his shoulders. She could see the anger flaming in his dark eyes. Jimmy recovers well, delivering attack after attack, though his solos, from that point on, tended to go a little off-track. Whether from nerves or self-doubt, Layla didn't know. But she knows him. She knows the guitarist will let it cloud the entire night. She knows he’s gonna pick the show apart, minute after exhilarating minute, looking for the smallest flaw. Layla knows that she’ll be there for him through it all.

No matter what.

----------

With a hoarse thank you and a flourish directed at the audience, Robert finally leads the band off-stage to voltaic cheers. Robert, ecstatic as ever during the concert, seems to deflate the second he gets off. With a nod and a soft smile at Layla, he disappears into the depths of the backstage area. Jonesy and Bonzo pass by with tight-lipped smiles, clapping her on the shoulder as they follow Robert. Jimmy is the last to appear, and the reason for the rhythm section’s warning glances becomes apparent immediately.

Jimmy scowls as he approaches, eyes glassy, as though she were looking into a clear stream. Layla can see herself reflected in them; can see the worry reflected in her own gaze. Slipping a hand around his bicep, she steers Jimmy into a corner. He refuses to look at her, even as her hand tilts his face upwards softly.

“Jimmy, love, that was—”

“Shit.”

“No, not at all,” Layla steps closer, a hand finding the familiar spot on his cheek. “It was a great show. You saw the audience, Jim. They loved you guys!”

“It was shit, and everyone knows it. If I could just—”

“Jimmy, come on…”

“—be good enough, this would have gone differently.”

Layla’s breath catches, eyes as wide as saucers as she steps closer to the guitarist, who turns away. His gaze at the floor never wavers as he paces, muttering to himself.

“Jimmy, look at me,” Layla stops him in his tracks with a hand at his back. His shoulders heave with deep breaths as he tries to calm himself down. “You played a good gig. It doesn’t matter if you missed a note or two. You came to play a great show, and you did.”

“But it isn't enough. These people came here for an extraordinary show and we couldn't deliver. I couldn't deliver, and—”

“Hey—”

“—if my finger wasn’t broken, we would have been as good as we’ve always been. This is my fault.”

“Jimmy, this isn’t on you. You did nothing wrong.”

Jimmy’s hands fly up to land in his hair, as he pulls at it almost unconsciously. Layla grips his cheek lightly, as the other hand comes to rest at a thin wrist, pulling it away from the dark locks it had latched onto. Jimmy averts his eyes from the woman’s earnest gaze and turns his back once more, treading a hole in the wooden floor of the backstage area. Layla’s palm rubs soft circles into the fabric of his cardigan, patches of whispering dandelions catching on her fingers. From her place behind him, she can see the way he’s beating a fist into the palm of his injured hand repeatedly, perhaps a way to atone for a mistake that hasn’t been committed.

“I fucked up this tour. It’s my fault. I can’t do everything I know I can do, and that’s on me. I just…”

“Jimmy…”

“I can’t do this anymore!”

Layla shrinks back slightly at the exclamation form the man, who is shaking like a leaf. His head drops, long hair hiding his face once again. Recovering quickly, she spins him around carefully to face her. Hands cupping his cheeks, she presses her lips to his. His eyes flutter closed and he immediately reciprocates, a hand pressed to Layla's hips; his new favourite spot for them. Jimmy lets out a whine of pleasure, and Layla pulls away, looking into his tired eyes.

“Jimmy, listen to me. You did play well. I am so, so proud of you. Okay?”

“...Okay. I’ll… work on trying to believe you.”

“That’s all I can ask for.”

If Layla sees the sparkle and shine of tears on the man’s cheeks, she doesn't mention it as she grabs his hand, leading him to an empty room, locking the door immediately.

Finally away from prying eyes, Layla unfurls the guitarist’s hands from their clenched position, bringing the injured one up near her mouth. Gazing up at him, eyes shining in the dim light of the room, she presses a chaste kiss to each finger, slowing as she reaches the one painted shades of purple and black and blue. Jimmy nods, exhale shaky, and she presses the softest of kisses to the tip, hoping to cause pleasure rather than pain.

Jimmy’s hands slide lower from their place on her hips to cup her bum lightly, in case she was uncomfortable and wanted to slip out of his grasp. Her lips find his again as he pushes her against the large table in the middle of the room. Layla lets out a whimper, swallowed by the mouth against hers, as Jimmy’s tongue laps at her bottom lip, asking for entrance. He’s always been soft with her, but this new side of the dark-haired guitarist excited her. The kiss was over as soon as it began, Jimmy pulling away to stare at her, close enough still that their noses touched.

“Petal, I… We were gonna take it slow, and we will, but if you're ready…”

“I’m ready.”

Jimmy smiles, crashing his lips against her quickly, passionately. Pulling back once more, Jimmy smirks as Layla chases the high the feel of his lips gave her. Pressing into his space again, she frowns, which makes Jimmy chuckle. Layla’s hand reaches up, twisting in his hair.

“Angel,” Layla starts, a light tug on a mussed ebony ringlet following the nickname. His mossy eyes were dark with desire, and he placed his lips on her neck, kissing a trail down her jaw, stopping at her collarbone. Slipping the sweat-soaked cardigan off his shoulders, she traces a line down his cheek, eyes glued to his blush-red lips. “Can you lie down on the table for me? Please do try not to break any other body parts.”

“Haven’t I told you I’m afraid of heights?”  Jimmy laughs, and with a small smile thrown over his shoulder, he hops up onto the table.

“You overlooked that, love,” Layla says, unbuttoning her blouse ever-so-slowly, surely teasing the guitarist, who leans back on his elbows. His eyes follow her every move as she takes off the rest of her clothing. “Now, I feel like you might have too many clothes on, Jim. We need to be even, after all.”

Slipping his pants and underwear off in record time, he reclines back, already hard. Fully exposed now, Layla climbs up onto the table as well, straddling the man’s lap, before sinking herself onto him. A calloused hand lands on her hips, helping her find the perfect position, until a soft groan rang through the near-empty room. Jimmy’s hands move up to her breasts, toying with the woman’s nipples, much to her delight. Layla grabs onto his chest for support, craning her head back in pure euphoria at the sensation, the hollow of her neck exposed as Jimmy raises up to nip at it. Grinding her hips to the rhythm of the man’s soft groans, she trails hickies up his chest and neck.

“Something to remember me by.” she says, looking at him with dark eyes, a haze of lust filling them. Hand gripping Layla’s ass tightly, he brings her ever-closer, a mumbled “fuck” leaving the woman’s kiss-bitten lips. The guitarist’s face is creased with absolute exhilaration, as he rocks back and forth to the movement of Layla’s body on his. The couple didn’t know where one ended and the other began. Ecstasy fills the room, and whispers of praise flow like music from lips bruised and bitten.

“You did so well today, angel. You’re incredible.”

Jimmy raises up once more to capture her lips in a bruising kiss, a hand raking through the woman’s hair roughly, landing on her throat. Jimmy squeezes it lightly, warningly, and presses his lips to Layla’s once more, swallowing the shriek of pleasure she gasps out.

“You liked that, petal?” Jimmy’s hoarse voice reaches Layla’s ears almost belatedly, too caught up in the pleasure of his hands on her, though she nods as if her life depended on it. Panting hard now, Layla quickens her pace, noises of pleasure growing louder. With the friction of his hand on her, roaming everywhere it could reach, Layla felt divine; heavenly in this embrace. Leaning down for a heavy, passionate kiss, Jimmy’s hand finds her hair again, and he tugs on it hard. The pain elicits a moan from Layla, as she reaches her peak.

With a stuttered breath, Jimmy releases as well, gasps leaving his lips as he looks at Layla reverently. The wetness from her core rushes over him as she lays back down beside him, spent. Back arching as she pants, her head turns to face him, faces painted with bliss.

In a post-coitus haze, Jimmy has his arms wrapped securely around Layla’s shoulders, as her head rests on his chest. Layla giggles tiredly, as her breaths ruffle the dark hair on Jimmy’s chest. Looking up at him, she’s pleased to see him looking right back at her.

“That certainly cheered you up, didn’t it?”

“You’re the best at cheering me up after all. This, of course, was just a bonus.” Jimmy noses at her messy hair, smelling a combination of fresh linen, sweat and her shampoo; hints of strawberry and mango tickling his nose.

“We should get up, the boys are probably looking for us,” Layla says, dragging light fingers across his stomach, watching goosebumps appear on the pale skin. Whether it’s from the sensation or the chill of the table, Layla didn't know, but she’s comfortable in his embrace, in danger of drifting off.

“What if we just… stayed here forever. They can find another guitarist.”

“You’re pretty irreplaceable, Page,” Layla whispers, reaching up to press her lips to his jaw. “I mean, who would the boys chaperone if you were gone?”

“Chaperone? I’m not that bad. I can take care of myself just fine.”

“Right, so Robert was lying about the time you refused to sleep for 5 days out of pure adrenaline? New York, 1973, I believe it was?”

“...”

“That’s what I thought. We need to have a serious talk about your habits, Jimmy.”

With a chuckle from the guitarist, the two lapse into a comfortable silence, as Jimmy presses a kiss to the top of Layla’s head, nuzzling it with his cheek.

“Hey,” Layla shifts to look up at him, eyes filled with adoration. She felt as though she were looking at a star. Beautiful and shining, but out of reach, as much as she wished for the opposite. She knew this couldn’t last, though she’d savour every last minute of it that she could. “I need to… tell you something.”

“What’s wrong, Layla?”

“Nothing’s wrong, really. It’s… kind of the opposite, actually.”

Jimmy tilts his head in confusion, turning on his side to face her. He looked like a puppy, hair wild about his head, and Layla couldn’t help but giggle at the sight.

“S-So,” Layla shifts, nervous all of a sudden. Jimmy grips her hand in his, and nods when their eyes finally meet. “Do you remember what you asked me earlier? About the… meaning of life. You might not remember, you were a little out of it, and—”

“I remember. You’re rambling, petal. What’s going on?”

“Well, it’s… it’s love. The meaning of life is… love. Jimmy, I…um…”

“What is it? You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I’m… I guess... What I’m trying to say is,” Layla says, taking a deep breath as she looks into the eyes that captivate her, and make her smile, and set her on fire. “I’m falling in love with you, and I just… Yeah.”

Jimmy grins brightly, surging forward to capture her lips in a kiss bursting with joy. He laughs into it, as their noses brush together, his finger tracing nonsensical designs across her side.

“Very eloquently put, Porter.”

“Oh my God, I just confessed that I’m falling for you, and you focus on—”

“I’m falling in love with you too. I thought that may have been obvious, considering the state of this poor table.”

“W-Well,” Layla stutters, blushing crimson as Jimmy’s plush lips tilt up in a picture-perfect smirk. “Put your clothes on, Page. The boys are probably waiting for us.”

Jimmy laughs, but redresses in his stage clothes, turning to stare at Layla as she slips her jeans back on. Buttoning up her shirt and flattening her hair, which frizzed up like a halo around her flushed face, she gazes over at Jimmy. Crowding into his space, she put a hand to the back of his neck, up on her tiptoes to peck at his lips once more. He slips a hand to her cheek, and deepens the kiss. Pulling away to glimpse the golden smile that rests on Layla’s lips, he feels like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest. Arm in arm, they walk out of the room, twin smiles nearly splitting their faces. Jimmy glances over at Layla, and can’t believe just how lucky he is.

Screw falling in love, he thinks.

This is love, and he knows it for sure, now.

------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso (let me know if you want to be added!)

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: West Coast Avengers #1: Avengers Assemble!

September, 1984

WHO will answer Hawkeye’s call to join the new team?

I assume Mockingbird? I see her silhouette in the cover box and the assumption was that she and Clint were a package deal? I don’t know what it’s being played like its not a given.

Some good or at least interesting options here for the second team.

Red Wolf, Iron Man, Puck, I thiiiiink Crystal?, Doc Sampson, Mockingbird, Cyclops, Black Widow, Wonder Man, Tigra, Quicksilver, Hercules, Ant-Man, Namor, and the Shroud.

A lot of interesting options. I really want it to be Cyclops and I know its not going to be Cyclops.

STOP TEASING ME WITH AVENGERS CYCLOPS IF YOU’RE NOT GOING TO GIVE IT TO ME!

Also, this issue #1 of West Coast Avengers. Or at least the first issue #1. The team is introduced in a four issue miniseries before getting an ongoing - and a second issue #1 - about a year later.

This will be moderately confusing for my numbering but I’m brave enough to barrel on through anyway.

Last time in Avengers: Vision became the chairman of the Avengers and announced that due to the threat of the Dire Wraiths, the Avengers would be opening up a West Coast team led by newly married Hawkeye. In one page reminders of the subplot in various issues, Hawkeye and Mockingbird arrived in Los Angeles, went real estate shopping, and set up a new HQ in a nice compound that used to belong to an actress.

The team is only missing one thing.

A team.

Maybe it’s just me but I’d think that you’d get the team sorted out before you spent who knows how much renovating a compound up to the level required for a superhero team.

It’s going to be really embarrassing if you open a new Avengers team and nobody comes.

(Vision agrees and has taken the liberty of reaching out to several likely candidates.)

Mockingbird confirms that Hawkeye has invited her onto the team but she’s not even sure she’s Avengers material, she doesn’t even have powers.

Hawkeye: “Neither does Captain America! Neither do I! If I can be an Avenger -- !”

Mockingbird: “Anyone can, right?”

Hawkeye: “And people wonder why you took the code-name Mockingbird!”

Haha! I do like their chemistry!

He does clarify that its totally not just because she’s married to him (although I would point out that he kept trying to get Black Widow on the team based on them dating) but that she’s totally earned it! She has years of experience as a SHIELD agent!

Hawkeye calls Vision to let him know that the place is all set up and Vision lets him know about the reaching out to several likely candidates biz.

BOOM SCENE TRANSITION TO DOWNTOWN SAN FRANCISCO at the office of private investigator Jessica Drew.

Because, yeah, Jessica Drew did the PI thing as an ex-superhero way before Jessica Jones. And Jessica Jones is probably Drew with some of the serial numbers scratched off.

ANYWAY, she’s talking to hardboiled Tigra, who helped her on the Enselmo case.

Jessica Drew: “I still laugh when I think about the way you ran our pigeon up and down Telegraph Hill!”

Tigra: “That was the best part of the case! After all... bringing pigeons to ground is second nature to a lady who’s half-cat!”

Jessica tries to offer Tigra a job (since this is before the internet and Tigra can’t find a lot of modeling jobs for models covered with fur) but Jessica’s secretary interrupts with a call for Tigra.

The call sounds ominous from Jess only hearing half of it but I’m 99.9% sure its Vision offering Tigra a spot on the West Coast Avengers.

Read Tigra’s replies with that context and you’ll laugh.

Tigra tells Jess that she’s got to book it to LA for business that she has to settle on her own but they’ll talk about Jess’ offer later.

Tigra: “Don’t worry, I’m a big girl... I can make my own mistakes!”

I feel like a little bit of clarification would have gone a long way here, Tigra.

Because Jessica assumes that Tigra is in trouble and decides to call someone to tail (ha) Tigra.

Meanwhile, a car chase in the Mojave Desert.

To cut to the car chase, this is a movie set filming a stunt spectacular car chase scene for what I’m pretty sure is James Bond.

Pyrotechnics are easy if you don’t stress blowing up the stuntman.

Because he’s near invulnerable.

The stuntman (Simon Williams, Wonder Man) does need to have buckets of water thrown on him to cool him off after being in an explosion but he’s otherwise fine.

Cool that Wonder Man found an acting job he can handle. He seems pretty thrilled with it.

One of the staff on set tells Simon that his trailer is buzzing and he realizes its his Avengers transceiver.

He receives his offer from Vision (although apparently a much more vague one than Tigra) and flies off after making sure he has no more stunts scheduled for the day.

An hour later and hundreds of miles elsewhere, Iron Man (the James Rhodes version) is flying around, minding his own business, thinking about how cool it is to have relocated to California to help Tony Stark open a new business, admiring the Standord University Linear Accelerator Center.

Just as he’s thinking that he hopes that Tony isn’t in a hurry to being Iron Man since he’s gotten used to it, Vision cuts in on the secret Iron Man radio frequency to call him in to the meeting.

Iron Man arrives twenty minutes later at the West Avengers compound on the Palos Verdes Peninsula bluffs and paraphrased does an impressed whistle at what a nice place it is.

Iron Man: “Some spread! This looks like the kinda place Tony would’ve hung out... before he lost Stark International! The best part of being his pilot in those days was ferrying him to spots like this! Who’d have thought I’d ever be invited on my own? Then again, who’d have thought little Jimmy Rhodes would grow up to be Iron Man?!”

Future knowledge bums me out a little with this. This is spoilers for a year from now and several issues from now but in the time gap between the West Coast Avengers limited series and the ongoing, Tony does take over being Iron Man again. I hope you enjoy all this while it lasts, Rhodey. And hey, War Machine is only like eight years away!

Tigra arrives and starts acting familiar with Iron Man because she thinks she knows its Tony and they were teammates for a bit.

She ditches the briefly identity obscuring trenchcoat and hat because dammit she has a year round fur coat and its hot in California!

She also might be flirting, although hopefully not as bad as she’ll get later in the ongoing. Spoilers for a year and several issues for now but it is a bafflingly bad subplot that Tigra gets given.

The other reason I bring it up is that this is the exact situation that led Rhodey to quit the Avengers when he became Iron Man. He felt it would be awkward interacting with people who already knew Iron Man well.

I guess he’s more comfortable with it now.

The West Coast Avengers roster that we already know about are all people who either quit the Avengers or don’t feel like they’d be a good fit. Which is just a great start so I’m interested to see if we’ll get justifications for why they’d sign up the minute a franchise opens.

Hawkeye takes Tigra and Iron Man off on a tour while a mysterious shrouded figure watches.

The tour concludes without us seeing the tour, boo. But it comes up that neither Iron Man or Tigra know why they’re here.

Iron Man was just told he was needed but didn’t get any more details. We know that Wonder Man got the same vagueness. And Tigra was just offered a $1000 dollar stipend to fly out to LA and see if she could “help the Avengers out!”

So Hawkeye gives them the sales pitch.

That Captain America made it a rule that except in emergencies, the Avengers’ roster would be limited to six members. But Vision decided that they need more than six Avengers but wanted to keep the team from becoming unwieldy so told Hawkeye to set up an expansion team: the West Coast Avengers!

It’ll basically be the same thing as the original Avengers in terms of by-laws and rights and privileges and both groups will be affiliated but the West Coast Avengers will be running their own show west of the Rockies.

If everyone here agrees to sign up, that’ll make a team of five with a sixth spot to fill.

But Tigra objects that she left the original team because she felt out of her depth and why would that be different here?

Ah, now there it is.

Justify it, Hawkeye.

Except he doesn’t because the intruder alarm goes off.

The intruder alarm all the way in the first basement level, which means their intruder has already penetrated deep into the compound and bypassed a lot of the security systems.

Hawkeye is sure that the intruder is actually a highly organized commando raid and he’s instantly proven wrong with an infrared scan shows just one guy.

Womp womp.

Hawkeye is also sure that however this just one guy got as far as he did, the security system in the next area will totally--

Womp womp.

Hawkeye is fed up at this point and seals off the security levels, forcing the dude back through the domestic areas. He then orders Iron Man, Tigra, and Mockingbird to split up to cover more ground that way and surround the intruder.

Not having much better to do, they do, but everyone has some misgivings in their thinky thoughts.

Iron Man: Hawk sounds like he really gets into giving orders. I don’t know if I like that.

Tigra: I must be some sort of masochist to get involved with Avengers again! They always seem to know what they’re doing... not like me! What am I doing here? What am I trying to prove?

Hawkeye: Should I let the others catch our intruder... or rush in and collar him myself? How would Cap handle this?

Mockingbird: Poor Hawk... He wants so much to be a good leader! I know he can do it, but I wish he wouldn’t try quite so hard! In a way, though, it’s funny... His first act as leader was having the team split up!

Mockingbird is the first to run into the intruder, suddenly being enveloped in a cloud of darkness. She can’t see anything but hears someone moving and launches one of her staves from her spring-loaded sleeve launcher.

Its a near miss, breaking a lamp instead of the intruder, who turns out to be Shroud. Y’know, that friend of Jessica Drew’s we met in that two-parter about saving Jessica Drew’s ghost?

Shroud realizes how skilled Mockingbird is and that he might have trouble if he takes her lightly so he goes right for the Vulcan neck pinch, knocking out Mockingbird. But she hits Shroud in the stomach guts with her second stave as she’s passing out.

Hawkeye then shows up, concerned that he hasn’t run into Mockingbird yet and drawn to the cloud of darkness, except not the Final Fantasy villain.

He shoots a light arrow, except not the Legend of Zelda powerup, into the cloud to no real effect so shrugs and shoots a sonic arrow instead.

Shroud flees the area and Hawkeye finds Mockingbird who tells him to shut up with the EEEEE arrow.

Hawkeye: “Where’d our man go?”

Mockingbird: “How should I know? It was dark!”

Hah.

The cloud of darkness passes through the area of the mansion/compound that Tigra is in and she recognizes it as Shroud’s darkness. She calls out to him but he doesn’t hear her because he’s in another wing about to be tackled by Iron Man who can see Shroud with his in-helmet radar.

Controlling darkness is all well and good until technology.

Ain’t it said, Rumia?

Shroud is also blind so all he knows is that an armored man is lunging at him until Iron Man calls him a fool for trespassing on Avengers turf.

And that’s when he realizes that he done goofed.

Hmm. What is that symbol on Shroud’s hood, anyway? It looks kinda like Aku.

Shroud manages to escape Iron Man’s grasp, sacrificing some of his neat cape. Although, it tears into an even cooler look so is it really a sacrifice?

He decides that he’s just going to get out of here.

Shroud: Have to get undercover and think out my next move. I don’t want to fight Avengers! That could become a life’s work -- and I have better things to do!

I can’t decide whether he means that he’d be at it all day or that this misunderstanding fight would lead him down an unwilling path of villainy as some third-string grudge holder.

Probably the former?

Anyway, Shroud is just leaping over the balcony when Wonder Man finally arrives and spots him. And unfortunately for Shroud’s ribs, he has been cultivating a reputation as a crimelord so Wonder Man flies in and tackles him into a tree.

Womp womp, except for Shroud this time.

Tigra shows up and jumps on Wonder Man from forty feet away to stop him from hurting Shroud any further, explaining that he’s her friend.

Shroud: “I’m certainly glad I’m not an enemy... I’d hate to think how I’d be treated then!”

Hah.

Later, in the medical room, I guess, Mockingbird applies bandages to Shroud’s ribs except on the outside of his costume. Does... does that do anything? Obviously not for open wounds. But for bruised bones, I guess the point is compression. But it feels less than ideal because he’d have to take off the bandages to take off his shirt. Just feels better to apply the bandages under the clothes, MOCKINGBIRD.

What makes it weirder is that we see him a couple panels later pulling his shirt down over the bandages. Which makes me think Mockingbird bandaged him on top of his costume and he had to pull his costume top out from under them and pull it down. He didn’t just stop her because that would be rude?

Shroud explains that Jessica Drew asked him to keep an eye on Tigra because of how the phone call made her act all weird. He followed Tigra from the airport to here and ran into a gaggle of superheroes. 

In the meantime, Hawkeye has verified Shroud with a report Captain America filed on him so Hawkeye believes he’s a good guy now.

Wonder Man and Iron Man apologize for going in swinging and Tigra for not just telling Jessica what the call was about. But Shroud tells them no permanent harm done.

Hawkeye decides to offer Shroud the last spot on the team (assuming that everyone already invited is going to choose to stay).

Hawkeye: “That trick you do with the dark is one slick little number... and anyone who can hold his own against us as long as you did obviously has what it takes in the skill department. Besides, what you did reminds me a little of how I introduced myself to the Avengers -- I broke in, too! Come on... What do you say?”

Shroud say... no.

He’s honored and a couple years earlier he would have jumped at the chance. But Wonder Man’s assumption didn’t come from nowhere. Shroud has been spending the last many months building up his outlaw rep so he can take down gangs from the inside.

Like the Green Hornet, I guess?

But since it’d be hard to be an Avenger West Coast AND keep up the fake outlaw thing, Shroud has to turn them down.

Shroud then pulls his cloud of darkness disappearing trick and nopes out.

With all that tied up, Wonder Man asks whats the big thing that Vision called him out for, leading an exasperated Hawkeye to start his West Coast Avengers sales pitch from the top.

Mockingbird: “That’s the spirit, fearless leader! Just remember, it can only get better from here!”

Hah.

So, that was the first issue of West Coast Avengers.

And there’s still no West Coast Avengers team.

Tigra and Iron Man still have reservations about the idea. Wonder Man has no idea why he’s there.

Its an interesting decision to hit the ground walking with this team. But it makes sense. The initial plan wasn’t for the West Coast Avengers to get an ongoing. This limited series was supposed to establish the concept, give a few Avengers affiliated characters something to be doing off-panel, and be able to be pulled in for crossovers and guest appearances as needed.

So the book can focus more on Hawkeye’s trials in actually getting this team going. He’s finally gotten to be a leader of the Avengers like he’s always wanted and now has to deal with all the frustration that Captain America or Hank Pym had with him, and then some.

Still, funny that the West Coast Avengers’ first adventure has them not only not a team yet but spending their time beating up a friend due to mistaken identity.

Will they get their act together by the next issue? Only time will tell. I tell a lie because Chronos never spoils stories. Only me will tell or maybe the Internet.

Follow @essential-avengers​ for the rest of the West Coast Avengers limited series. And for eventual bafflement when they get an ongoing. Also, like and reblog.

[thiswasinevitableid]

10 tattoos/piercing, Danbrey, sfw, please!

Here you go! I based Dani's design on an arowana because I liked the color.

“Remember, non-scented soap, nice to meet you, byeee!” Aubrey waves to her client as they head down the boardwalk. She has thirty minutes until her next appointment, so it’s time to stretch her legs and check the little ‘doggy cam” she set up on Dr. Harris Bonkers cage to make sure the giant rabbit hasn’t finally managed to chew his way through the bars.

“Hi doctor” She coos into the phone. One white ear pivots towards the camera, but the bunny remains otherwise unmoved.

She leans on the railing, Pacfic sparkling like a postcard before her.

“Excuse me?”

“YEEEEP!” She jumps back, not expecting a woman to pop out of the water, let alone pop out and talk to her.

“Oops, sorry.” The other woman smiles, golden hair fanning out around her. There are two types of blondes in Long Beach; the ones hoping to be the next influencer sensation and the kind who are excited to tell you about GOOP and crystals.

Whichever kind this woman is, she’s the most gorgeous girl Aubrey’s ever seen.

“Um, can I help you?”

“Yeah! Can you tattoo me? A piercing would be okay too, but I really like how pretty the tattoos are.”

“Thanks. Um, you’re gonna need an appointment.” She pulls out her phone again, since it’s synced to the calendar Joseph makes them all keep, “lemme see....I have a big slot of time on Friday afternoon.”

The girl cocks her head, “That’s two days from now, right?”

“Yep.We can start at one if that works for you?”

“Sure, see you then!” She waves and then disappears under the water. A few moments later, a shimmering golden tail breaks the swell, seeming to wave once before submerging. Aubrey blinks, switches back to the bun cam.

“How do I tell Joseph I have to move my stuff outside to tattoo a mermaid?”

Dr. Harris Bonkers snuffles, but offers no further commentary.

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

“Joseph, for the last time, you are not gonna hang around just to ask my client questions while I’m trying to work.”

“I don’t plan to, but we need to make sure everything, and I mean everything, is as sterile as we can manage. Doing this outside gives me hives as it is.” Joseph finishes setting up the pop-tent, the kind sun-phobic families take to the beach.

“C’mon, people gave each other traditional tattoos out in the open for centuries. It should be fine.”

Joseph makes an unsure noise, but leaves her in peace all the same. Before long a golden tail flashes out of the water as the mermaid swims towards the beach, the closest spot to the pier where they could actually set the tent and generator up. It’s right on the tide line, Duck having used his almanac to tell them whether Aubrey would be chasing the tide or fleeing from it if the appointment turns out to be long.

“Um, hi again.” She waves.

“Hello!” The mermaid slides up into the surf. When she sits up, Aubrey turns pink.

“Uh, do you, uh, want a swimsuit or something?” Her voice is embarrassingly high.

The mermaid looks down, then at Aubrey studiously looking elsewhere, and laughs, “Oh, right, I forgot humans don’t like it when we’re bare-chested.”

“I mean it’s not that we don’t like it-” Aubrey mumbles.

“Be right back.” She pushes back into the sea, returning a minute later wearing a bright green bikini top, “is that better?”

“Yep!” She replies too quickly, “Sorry, I, um, I’ve never worked on a mermaid before, kinda figured you guys wore seashells or sea stars or something?”

“You...you realize where that would put the seastar mouths, right?” The mermaid scoots up onto the beach, tail in the water and back on the inflatable recliner they borrowed from Kirbys apartment.

“Ooohouch, you’re right, fuck, sorry.” She grabs her flash binder, brought in case the mermaid didn’t have a design in mind.

The mermaid glances over her shoulder, smiling, “You’re cute when you blush.”

She maintains her professionalism, but only just, as the mermaid chooses her preferred design; a brightly colored swirl of planets and stars. For a newbie, she barely seems to register the needle, focused instead on studying Aubrey’s face and hands as she works. She learns that her name is Dani, that she’s one of several merfolk living near the pier, and that she’s observed Aubrey and her handiwork courtesy of a rock and a pair of salvaged binoculars.

“Oooh” Dani wiggles her tail happily when she sees the finished product, “it’s perfect, thank you so much Aubrey.”

“Glad you like it-oh, okay.” She stiffens as Dani rubs their cheeks together twice before pulling back.

“I’m supposed to keep it clean right?”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure how well saran wrap will hold up to sea water.”

A formerly empty Rose bottle thunks onto the sand. Dani grabs it, popping the make-shift cork off with her teeth.

“Ooh, Indrid sent me a special covering to keep it safe. And these must be for you.” She holds out two pearls.”

“Thanks” She’s more interested in watching the kissable lips covering razor sharp than the gems the mermaid gives her.

“Can I see you again?” Dani is halfway back in the water.

“Whenever you want. You’re a great client; you, um, you’re really nice to touch. Wait, um, I mean you take it really welllARGH, um, yes please come back.” Aubrey replies, tucking the second most valuable thing on the beach into her pocket and continuing to blush well after Dani has returned to the waves.

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

“AHFUCK!”

“Sorry!” Dani gives a sheepish wave to Duck before turning to Aubrey, who got used to her popping out of the water five times ago, “are you free tomorrow?”

“Sure” even if she isn’t, she’ll happily reschedule another client for Dani’s sake, “do want to pick something from my flash?”

“Nope, this time Indrid designed something. It’s about the same size as this” she holds up the watercolor hermit crab on her right arm, “see you then?”

“Of course.” Aubrey waves goodbye, blows a kiss when Dani is out of sight.

She forgot Duck was still here.

“You got it bad, Lady Flame.”

“Shush, I saw you chatting to Indrid by the coffee shop yesterday.”

“....you can’t prove anythin.”

She holds up her phone, smirking, “Oh yes I can.”

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

“Aubrey!”

She looks up, wondering who’s calling her name on the deserted beach. She brings Dr. Harris Bonkers down here on a leash late at night for enrichment for him and a break from the summer heat for her.

“Aubrey, over here!” Dani leaps through the surf until she;s only able to slide, “I thought it was you. Ohhhhhh” she squeals, “this must be Dr. Harris Bonkers. Hello cutie pie, aren’t you just so lovelyOH, oh he feels like an otter.” She rubs the rabbits head, causing him to creep towards the water, “you’re the second cutest thing on this beach, doctor.” She winks at Aubrey, then sits up, “can I introduce him to Ferdinand?”

Aubrey nods, excited to finally meet Dani’s pet; she only his name, but she’s expecting a seal, or maybe a crab.

What she gets is an octopus. The cephalopod winds a tentacle around her arm, investigating her.

“Aww, he likes you.” Dani sets the octopus down in shallow water, where it proceeds to stretch multiple limbs out to poke Dr. Harris Bonkers.

“Guess they’re having a playdate?” Dani scoots closer, resting her head on Aubrey’s shoulder.

Aubrey sets a hand on her tail, running her fingers up and down the scales as the mermaid sighs happily.

“As long as he doesn’t carry Dr. Harris Bonkers into the tidepools, they can hang out as long as you like.”

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

“Dani? How many tattoos are you planning to get?” Aubrey looks up from where she’s outlining an octopus on Dani’s side.

“I haven’t decided yet. It’s really common for mers to have lots of piercings and tattoos. That’s why Indrid can leave Duck so many expensive tokens; he’s the most in-demand tattoo artist on the coast.”

“Neat! Wait-” she sits up, shutting off the gun, “your friend is a tattoo artist, but you kept coming here?”

“Yes.” Dani is still, save for the end of her tail, which vibrates nervously.

“Why?”

“Um, well, I, I really liked your style. Then I really liked you, and I wanted to keep seeing you…”

“Holy crap, do you keep getting tattoos because you think that’s the only way you’re able to see me?”

“Uhhuh.” Dani is bright pink from her cheeks to her waist as Aubrey scrambles to sit in front of her, “I mean, when you want to date someone, you’re only allowed to see them at their work until they say they want to date you too. Even us meeting on the beach a few weeks ago was pushing it, and I didn’t want you thinking I was pushy.”

“....Huh?”

“Do humans not have that rule?” Dani’s honey-colored eyes widen.

“Nope. It’s actually kinda rude to ask people out at work, because they can’t get away BUT” she hurriedly sets the gun aside, “but I make exceptions for super cute wonderful mermaids.”

“Oh. In that case-” Dani knocks her backwards with her tail and climbs atop her, kissing her so hard she wonders if you can die from a really good make-out session. When the salty kiss ends the mermaid continues peppering her face with kisses and flicking her tongue along her neck.

“Dani I, I’m loving all of this but if you mess up my ink I’m gonna be as annoyed as I can possibly be with a gorgeous mermaid feeling me up.”

“Crap, you’re right.” Dani sits back up, glancing at the half-done tattoo, "I really don't want to ruin your work. Desperate need to see you aside, I do love your style." She folds her hands back into her lap and readjusts onto the inflatable chair.

Aubrey crawls forward, kissing her sweetly, "Once we're done and you're all wrapped up, wanna join me on the beach for a little, um, late night picnic."

A teasing kiss, first to her nose and then to her lips, "I'd love to."

[jenovahh]

Comm 17 - A Little Help - NSFW

Rating: NC-17/Explicit Tags: Threesome (MxMxM), Anal Sex, Accidental Voyeurism, Blowjobs, Heat Fic

Commission Request: WoL is going into heat and Estinien has always been their partner. Not wanting make things awkward with G’raha who they have burgeoning feelings for, the WoL seeks Estinien out once more. G’raha notices the WoLs absence, and decides to seek them out... ====================================================

There’s no mistaking the sounds he hears from down the hallway.

G’raha Tia knows his face is as red as his hair, no longer tipped with silver mind you. 

The moans and sighs are unmistakable, familiar, and the sounds are so lewd he can feel his breeches already begin to feel a little too tight. His ears flick forward before flicking back in embarrassment, flicking forward once more as if he can’t help himself as he creeps steadily forward down the seemingly unending hallway.

The Rising Stones is empty, Tataru seeing to other business as she communicates with Krile who still lies in Sharlayan. Y’shtola and Urianger having mended their camaraderie have gone to research what the council could possibly be up to, most likely preparing to endure another late night up to their ears in tomes. The twins had busied themselves elsewhere, possibly still processing their father’s rejection. Thancred had gone out to attend to other matters, leaving with nothing but a wave and a smile.

Though he has always admired the Warrior of Light, even G’raha could not deny that he has not only spent time with A'von to be with his inspiration, his shining light...that he wanted more. While yes he knew his abilities could help their adventures, his reasons for joining A’von on his adventures were not so noble.

Even he could be selfish.

He knows not when these feelings of simple admiration and idolatry shifted into something more personal, pushing him to spend every bell of every day with A’von until they parted ways for the evening, each withdrawing to their own rooms. Part of him could not help but feel a little anxious for burdening the Warrior of Light with his presence every day, but could anyone blame him? 

He loved every second he got to spend with his inspiration, to see those pale, blue eyes crinkle and pouty lips smile at him as their tails swayed behind them as they trekked across Eorzea. On more than one occasion had G’raha felt A'von's own tail brush against his own, the fluffy mass unmistakably curling around his own for barely a second before withdrawing so fast G’raha thought he might’ve imagined it. 

He could barely sleep from thinking about it so much.

Try as he might, there was no running away from his burgeoning feelings for A’von, which was what left him feeling so bereft when he awoke to another day of the Warrior of Light mysteriously keeping his distance. It had been going on for barely a week now, A’von having started to nervously avoid him, until he became a ghost altogether. The only way G’raha knew he was relatively okay was from how he could distantly hear A'von's door close late at night when everyone had long since turned in.

Tonight was to be the same he thought, only G’raha had been arriving back to his room fairly late himself. He had nowhere else to go really, given his body had been slumbering on this world for the past few years, leaving him with nowhere else to stay save the Rising Stones. He had spent another night talking off poor Rambroes’ ear, sharing more tales of the future and the First and all he had seen. Passing on secrets of the Crystal Tower and its capability until he gave one good yawn and Rambroes sent him home just like old times.

It was quiet, whatever remaining Scions having long since gone home for the evening, meaning it was quieter than usual. It’s what led him to hearing moans and sighs from the end of the hall as he prepared to go to bed. He had been a little embarrassed of course, thinking that perhaps one of the other Scions needed release, and were thinking themselves quiet to races with average hearing. But one moan in particular let him know just which Scion was currently being pounded into the mattress.

He couldn’t help himself, cat-like stealth helping him sneak down the hall, toward the door that was cracked just enough that a sliver of light peeked out into the corridor. Just as the sounds got louder, so did the air, a familiar and long forgotten scent tickling G’raha’s nose and making him hard as rock in his trousers with each step he drew nearer. It was subconscious how his hand moved to grip himself through his clothes, not feeling such hunger since...he was in this body, strangely enough. Desire was the last thing on his mind when bearing the mantle of the Crystal Exarch.

“You like a good tussle as much as the rest...don’t deny it…” a man gruffly rumbles, the barely perceptible squeaking of the mattress finally making its way to his ears. Reaching the door, it's ajar just enough for his red eyes to peek in, barely able to contain his gasp at what he sees.

A'von is there, naked and sweaty and willing, his back to Estinien’s chest. Without meaning to G'raha eyes jump down A'von's bare torso to his cock, red, swollen, and leaking precum all over the place as it bounces lewdly with each thrust of Estinien’s hips. A'von's usually light eyes are darkened with lust, his trimmed claws biting into Estinien’s arm where the Elezen man has it wrapped possessively across his chest. Estinien’s other hand grips A'von's hip with bruising force, holding him in place as he controls the pace of his thrusting, leaving A’von no option but to sit there and take it.

He had been as in awe of the Azure Dragoon as anyone had the right to be, he thinks, despite the Elezen’s more standoffish demeanor. Having been the “new hire” himself, G’raha had taken to try and form a partnership of sort of being the two newest members, to which Estinien begrudgingly accepted. G’raha knew he didn’t genuinely dislike him as a person, but was more used to being alone, as was his wont.

G’raha had heard (or rather read) plenty about the prickly dragoon, noticing that he became more present as A’von had become more absent. Estinien had informed everyone he would be using this waiting time to take care of a few loose ends until it was time to depart, showing up surprisingly early as A’von had begun to make himself scarce. The seeds of jealousy tried to take root in G’raha’s heart, but he quickly quashed such thoughts. He was man enough to acknowledge that others had grown close to A'von in his absence; it was not fair to keep him to himself.

“You’re so beautiful like this, you know,” Estinien whispers, pressing thin lips to A'von's neck, tongue licking a stripe up to his jawline. “All hot and needy for me…” He growls, accentuating his words with a hard thrust, the sound of skin against skin making G’raha grip his dick tighter, needing some kind of relief as he played the hidden voyeur. He should step away, should turn around and go back to his own room, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from the sight before him.

“S-Stop saying such things,” A’von moans, grunting as Estinien’s fingers snake their way up to slip into his mouth, pink tongue darting out to lick them, drawing him into his waiting mouth. Estinien rumbles in approval, rewarding the Miqo’te by increasing the pace he fucks him. “Gods,”

“Halone couldn’t save you now...though you wouldn’t want that, now would you?” Estinien chuckles, making sure to fuck the Warrior of Light nice and deep. “No...it is your new friend you wish were in my place.”

“That’s not true!” A’von nearly wails, face flushing a deeper red from embarrassment.

A new...friend?

“Oh yes...it is not blue eyes you want to see. Go on and tell me more of how you wish for the heir of Allag to ravish you for all to see.” Estinien continues to tease.

“Estinien, be quiet,” A’von protests, even as his own hand goes to circle around his own cock in a silent plea for more. He handles himself expertly, eyes dazed as he tries to desperately thrust in his hand at the same time Estinien plows into him from behind.

G’raha is pretty sure he’s stopped breathing.

“I’m sure he would be more than amicable to your request…” Estinien hums, pushing down on A'von's back to press him into the mattress. G’raha watches toned muscle flex in Estinien’s arm as A’von’s tail curls around it affectionately despite the force Estinien exerts fucking him from behind. 

G’raha’s mouth is dry as the desert as he watches A'von's lust drunk face, holding back a groan at hearing the Warrior’s wanton sighs. He looks back to Estinien--

...to find the dragoon staring right back.

G’raha freezes, preparing to turn tail and run but the dragoon shakes his head, smirking all the while as he turns his gaze back to A’von. “Go on and tell me, A’von. Tell me how you came to me because you couldn’t face your feelings for your G’raha Tia.”

“Gods,” A’von moans, eyes rolling back in his head.

“You want him don’t you? Too embarrassed to have him see the infallible, unshakable Warrior of Light, his light and inspiration...reduced to a moaning mess.” Estinien continues, not having stopped his thrusting for one moment.

“Gods yes,” A’von moans, a smile curling his lips at the thought.

“Well, you heard him.” Estinien calls, raising his voice to clearly indicate he is speaking to G’raha. He feels himself freeze even more, stiff as a board as Estinien ceases the motion of his hips, giving the Warrior of Light just enough time for his thoughts to clear. G’raha watches as if he’s having an out of body experience as A’von turns in question to Estinien before following his line of sight to the door where he stands, unmoving.

A’von and he simply stare at one another blankly for a moment, before A'von's ears pin back against his head, hands covering his face in shame. “Raha!” he calls, and at the sound of his name without the prefix, so many of his fears scatter like petals on the wind. “By the gods, I hadn’t meant-- I mean,”

“Will you just ask him if he wants to join or sod off?” Estinien interrupts rudely, prompting A'von to reach back and smack him.

“Be quiet,”

“Von?” G’raha calls, stepping into the room. He pushes the door open to allow himself entry, closing it gently behind him, ensuring that it is shut. “Did you really…?”

Blushing again, A’von buries his face into the sheets in embarrassment, prompting an exasperated sigh from Estinien. “The bloody fool was too enamored with you to bother asking whether or not you wanted to help with his heat.” The Elezen grumbles with a roll of his eyes. “Something about not wanting to bother you, that you’ve just returned to this world and shouldn’t worry about such things.” He mocks, going as far to impersonate A'von's voice.

“Must you?” The Miqo’te whines, looking as if he would love nothing more than to disappear.

Estinien playfully gives him a smack on the ass, enjoying the man’s undignified yelp. “I must.”

Swallowing, G’raha carefully reaches for the clasps keeping his gear in place, praying he isn’t presuming over much. He and A’von make eye contact, everything and nothing passing between them for a moment. Despite their compromising position, G’raha notices A'von still has the gall to look ashamed, and it’s then he knows he must say something. “I...want this as much as you. If your words hold true.” He murmurs, unsure of his own voice.

A'von's large ears slowly perk up, blue eyes locked on him as if he wanted nothing else. “I...I hadn’t wanted to impose. I presumed that you didn’t want,”

“Of course I want,” G’raha groans, nearly falling to his knees to the side of the bed, reaching to kiss A’von who returns it just as eagerly, the two men groaning into one another’s mouths. G’raha caresses his face gently, always, always wanting, his heart doing little flips in his chest that the gods have seen fit to grant him so many of his wishes. 

G’raha feels A'von groan into the kiss, his eyes trailing to where he notices Estinien begins to slowly thrust again. This close G’raha can feel the effect of A'von's heat, his own breath coming fast as he stares into A'von's eyes, thumb trailing across the scar he knows his friend so adamantly hides. He can feel how he tenses beneath his touch, and so he moves to press his lips comfortingly to the scar, kissing every ilm as Estinien begins to one again build their pleasure.

“This is...okay?” A’von whines, claws ripping into the sheets as Estinien begins to pound even harder.

“More than okay.” G’raha groans, using this time to begin undressing as best he can from this position. His medallions clink together as his top falls to the floor, his hands nimbly picking out his hair pins and placing them with his top. “Though it has been some time, if memory serves, it may take two of us to satisfy a heat.” 

Hunger fills A'von's eyes at that, following him as he stands to remove his trousers. G’raha can’t help but flush red at how A'von's lips part and his tongue swipes across them, gazing up at him hungrily before eyeing the outline of his cock in his underwear. Even as Estinien continues to thrust, A’von reaches out and grabs him by the thigh, urging him closer to where he can pull down his small clothes, letting his cock spring free.

G’raha can’t help but groan as he watches that tongue swipe over pointed fangs once again, A’von turning his body as best he can to get a proper grip on his cock and pull the tip to his mouth. A’von eagerly begins to lick at his length despite the dragoon’s thrusts, eyes gazing up at him wantonly that does none of his wildest fantasies any justice.

His mouth feels exquisite, tongue warm and wet, swirling around the tip as he eventually gives up and climbs on the bed, turning himself to kneel directly in front of his companion. A’von groans thankfully as he fully dedicates himself to his task, bobbing his head up and down his length all while Estinien holds him by the hips and rams into him from behind. Each thrusts forces a groan from his throat, the vibrations travelling up his length, sending pleasure racing through what feels like every nerve in his body.

“Wicked white,” G’raha curses, having not let go of the phrase as A’von greedily laps at him, thrusting his hips back against Estinien whose groans have gotten more frantic, his pace more wild as he furiously pounds into the Warrior of Light. They grunt and groan together, G’raha committing the sight to memory as A’von calls Estinien’s name as he comes, pulling off his length to moan his release into his lap as Estinein too meets his end.

Estinien groans as he comes, head resting against his A’von’s back as he gives those last few thrusts to ride out his orgasm. G’raha watches as the two of  them catch their breath, A’von giving him a soft smile as he pushes himself up to bring G’raha down to him for a kiss. G’raha reciprocates immediately, their tongues dancing together even as Estinien withdraws, allowing for A'von to press forth unsuspectingly. G’raha scrambles to get his legs from under him as A’von straddles him, eyes devious as he holds his hand behind him expectantly. Estinien silently hands him the oil, G’raha watching hypnotized as he pours a generous amount in his hand before putting the bottle down once more.

G’raha can’t help but raise his hips as his lover’s hand wraps around his cock once again, the oil lubing him up easily. He can barely keep his eyes open, the pleasure is so overwhelming, looking through hazy eyes at how calloused hands rub him up and down. 

Having recovered, Estinien grabs the vial of oil, pouring what remains over two fingers before chucking it elsewhere in the room. Coming up behind A'von he slips two fingers into his sheathe, A’von purring, eyes hooded as he still keeps his focus on G’raha. “Good, you’re still ready. You ready to take him?” Estinien murmurs into A’von’s ear, taking one between his teeth and nibbling.

A’von nods slowly, finally releasing his cock as Estinien pulls his fingers from his puckered entrance.

Slowly, A’von leans forward, resting rough hands upon the smooth planes of G’raha’s chest, eyes not leaving one another as A’von reaches below to take hold of G’raha cock and line it up. Sinking slowly, the two Miqo’te moan as one as A'von slowly sinks down, G'raha hands coming to knead the flesh of A'von's thighs as he takes ilm by precious ilm. Even if he’s still stretched from Estinien’s own pounding, A’von savors each bit until they are flush against each other, his cock still hard and leaking pre cum as is warranted by a Miqo’te heat even after an orgasm.

A’von leans down to kiss him, his heart feeling ready to burst as A'von raises his hips to bring them back down. Groaning into one another’s mouths, G’raha feels robbed of breath as A’von nibbles playfully on his bottom lip, earning a surprised whimper from him at the action. Smirking, he watches as A’von sits back up, riding him earnestly, eyes on him. “Let me...make these past few days...up to you…”

A’von rides him like a man possessed, panting and mewling as he bounces on his cock. As if the sight alone wasn’t erotic enough, Estinien comes to claim A’von’s lips, the Miqo’te’s hand wrapping around his cock and pumping furiously as he prepares to meet his end once again. “The both of you,” A’von groans against Estinien’s lips, and G’raha knows he won’t last much longer either. “I’m going to,”

A’von comes, crying out as his seed spurts everywhere, but G’raha can’t be bothered to care as he finally releases, feeling his orgasm soar through him with blinding speed. His toes curl as he feels his seed spurt inside of his love, eyes fluttering closed as he gives a few more thrusts to ride out his orgasm.

It is his turn to catch his breath, finally opening his eyes just in time to catch A'von as he seems to collapse atop him. “Von?” he panics, until Estinien stills him with a hand.

“He’s fine. Just worn out.” He huffs, standing from the bed to cross over to a nearby basin. “You and I both know he could use the rest. Especially since he’ll pounce on us soon as he wakes.” 

Nodding, G’raha shifts A'von to be a bit more comfortable, scooting over to make a little more room for all three of them to fit. Given that they’re in Estinien’s room, he doubts anyone save Alphinaud or Tataru would dare pay a visit, and so he dubs it safe enough to rest his eyes, and join A'von in the world of dreams.

[introvertguide]

Saving Private Ryan (1998); AFI #71

The next film on the list is one of the best films of any genre, Saving Private Ryan (1998). This is what I consider the best war film of all time despite how overwhelming it is to watch. Maybe it is because it is so difficult to watch, since the movie was nominated for 11 Academy Awards and received five trophies. Because of the ensemble cast and almost complete lack of women, the film was never going to garner much in the way of acting awards. Like the soldiers who they hoped to portray, these actors shouldn’t have expected much individual recognition. This movie affected me greatly, and I would like to delve into that after going through the story line.

MAJOR SPOILER WARNING!!! BECAUSE OF THE NATURE OF THE FILM, EVERYTHING THAT COULD POSSIBLY BE REVEALED AS FAR AS PLOT IS GIVEN AWAY BELOW!!! 

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In the present day, an elderly man visits the Normandy Cemetery with his family. At a tombstone, he falls to his knees in anguish. The establishing shots showing the mass of grave stones is overwhelming from the get-go. The movie transitions from the graveyard to a landing boat at the battle of Normandy. Be prepared because it is about to get rough.

On the morning of June 6, 1944, American soldiers land at Omaha Beach as part of the Normandy invasion. Everything goes bad immediately as machine guns and mortars literally tear the landing soldiers to shreds. Soldiers are screaming for their mothers as they die on the beach. There is no going back into the ocean so the soldiers have run into the machine gun fire. Captain John H. Miller (Tom Hanks) of the 2nd Ranger Battalion leads a breakout from the beach that makes it through to the German encampment. It is about 15 minutes of carnage and nobody will blame you if you want to forward through this until the action cools down. Elsewhere on the beach, a dead soldier lies face-down in the bloody surf; his pack is stenciled Ryan, S. It is at this point I would recommend taking a breather if you need one.

Continuing on, we are shifted to Washington, D.C., at the War Department (keep an eye out for Bryan Cranston with one arm), where General George C. Marshall learns that three of the four sons of the Ryan family were killed in action within a short time of one another. Daniel Ryan in New Guinea shortly before D-Day, Sean Ryan at Omaha Beach, and Peter Ryan at Utah Beach: all dead with letters arriving the same day for their mother. The fourth son, James Francis Ryan, is with the 101st Airborne Division somewhere in Normandy. After reading Abraham Lincoln's Bixby letter, which is meant to comfort grieving parents, aloud, Marshall orders Ryan found and brought home.

Three days after D-Day, Miller receives orders to find Ryan and bring him back. He chooses seven men from his company for the job—T/Sgt. Mike Horvath (Tom Sizemore), Privates First Class Richard Reiben (Edward Burns) and Adrian Caparzo (Vin Diesel), Privates Stanley Mellish (Adam Goldberg) and Daniel Jackson (Barry Pepper), T/4 medic Irwin Wade (Giovanni Ribisi) and T/5 Timothy Upham (Jeremy Davies), an interpreter from the 29th Infantry Division. The group moves out to Neuville where they meet a squad of the 101st engaged against the enemy and both Ted Danson and Paul Giamatti show up. THe group searching for Ryan bump into a stranded French family who try to give over their children but a German sniper breaks up the party. Caparzo is killed by a German sniper, who is then killed by Jackson (who makes the most amazing shot that legends are made of). They locate a Private James Ryan (Nathan Fillion), only to learn that he is James Frederick Ryan. On the point of giving up, the Captain starts asking random passing soldiers and learns that Ryan is defending an important bridge in Ramelle.

Near Ramelle, Miller decides to neutralize a German machine gun position at a derelict radar station, despite his men's misgivings. It does not go well and the medic, Wade, is killed in the process. They take a German soldier that they name Steamboat Willie (Joerg Stadler) who gives up willingly and pleads for his life. The men are angry and want to kill the soldier since they can’t take any extras, so, at Upham's urging, Miller frees the surviving German soldier. Losing confidence in Miller's leadership, Reiben declares his intention to desert, prompting a confrontation with Horvath, who threatens to shoot him. Miller defuses the standoff by disclosing his civilian career as a high school English teacher in a small Pennsylvania town.

At Ramelle, they find Ryan (Matt Damon) among a small group of paratroopers preparing to defend the key bridge against an imminent German attack. Miller tells Ryan that his brothers are dead, and that he was ordered to bring him home. Ryan is distressed about his brothers, but is unwilling to leave his post. Miller combines his unit with the paratroopers in defense of the bridge. He devises a plan to ambush the enemy with two .30-caliber machine guns, Molotov cocktails, anti-tank mines, and improvised satchel charges made from socks. It is basically suicide so the bridge is wired to explode in case it can’t be held. 

Now is a time to take a breather if you need one because it is about to get bad again. Elements of the 2nd SS Panzer Division arrive with two Tiger tanks and two Marder tank destroyers, all protected by infantry. The small American group holds off the force the best they can, Although they inflict heavy damage on the Germans, nearly all of the paratroopers, along with Jackson, Mellish and Horvath, are killed. It turns out that Steamboat Willie joined the group and he personally kills Mellish with a Nazi youth knife (it is horrible) and shoots Miller Captain Miller as he attempts to blow up the bridge. Miller crawls to retrieve the bridge detonator, and fires ineffectually but defiantly with his pistol at an oncoming tank. As the tank reaches the bridge, an American P-51 Mustang flies overhead and destroys the tank, after which American armored units arrive to rout the remaining Germans. With the Germans in full retreat, Upham emerges from hiding and shoots Steamboat Willie dead, having witnessed him shooting Miller, but allows his fellow soldiers to flee.

Miller tells Ryan to “earn this” before dying from his injuries. As the scene transitions to the present, Ryan is revealed to be the veteran from the beginning of the film, and is standing in front of Miller's grave expressing his gratitude for the sacrifices Miller and his unit made in the past. Ryan asks his wife if he was worthy of such sacrifice, to which she replies that he is. The final scene shows Ryan saluting Miller's grave and fades to the American flag gently waving in the breeze.

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

I really have a hard time getting through this film without pausing and taking a breather. I saw the film in the theater when I was 18, so my friends and I were all around the age that these soldiers would have been that rushed that beach and retook France. It was truly terrifying. Now I am old and have back issues, so I wouldn’t be put on a front line, but the kids that I work with and care for would be the exact age to be caught in a draft and that scares me even more. The creative ways in which man finds to kill one another is the greatest threat to humanity. 

The first two times I saw the film, I did not realize that it was the same German soldier that the group had captured who eventually killed many of the group we were following. It really changes the message in the end. I had thought that Captain Miller had showed his humanity showing mercy, but it turns out that this mercy is misplaced. Now it seems like Spielberg is saying that neither humanity, nor religion, nor innocence, nor skill, nor even intelligence can save a man in the heat of battle. The only way to live is to watch the back of your group and protect each other like family.

There was a little bit of a travesty that occurred at the Academy in early 1999, because this film lost out in the Best Picture category to Shakespeare in Love. This is the same year that also saw Saving Private Ryan, The Truman Show, Life is Beautiful, Elizabeth, and The Thin Red Line. There had to be something behind that because I wouldn’t consider the winner even in the top 5. Shakespeare in Love is considered one of the worst Best Picture winners along with Crash and The Artist. Oscars are not everything and this movie is one of the best examples of this.

When I say that some of the scenes from this movie are difficult, I really do mean it. There was a hotline set up for people who have PTSD that was triggered by the film. One of the actual members of the 101st Airborne, Major Richard Winters, was consulted about the occurrences surrounding the attack. He said that it brought up many memories that he had worked hard to suppress because he had been taught that war veterans couldn’t express the psychological pain of battle. He also said that it was an important film that revealed what war was really like.

On Veteran’s Day in 2001 and 2004, ABC aired the film uncut with limited commercial interruptions. Living in California, I was able to watch the film on both of those occasions and remember getting my girlfriend at the time to watch in 2004. The film has become like a memorial to Americans lost in the European Campaign during WW2, so I treat viewing as a badge of honor and understanding, no matter how difficult it is to watch.

This film is a pretty easy answer when it comes to the standard questions for the most part. Does this film belong on the AFI top 100? Of course. It is the new benchmark for which all American war films will be judged. It is historically accurate, it is beautifully shot and directed, and it leaves a lasting impression far longer than just about any movie I have seen. Would I recommend it? This one has an age warning. It is not appropriate for young children because the first and last battle scenes are nightmare fuel. Even worse, they are apparently very realistic. It is hard to recommend something that is so scarring, but it will keep people for glorifying battle. It is horrific and should be avoided as much as possible. And that is a lesson that I believe this movie teaches better than any other. So please give this movie a watch and feel free to take a break if you need it.

[officialleehadan]

Knowledge Beloved

Hello darlings! Here we are, kicking off Prompt Month with a bang!

Today's story was brought to you by CJessie! Thank you so much for all your support!

Prompt: Lady Hoshi asks, and answers, some questions for Vree's Pride-cubs.

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“What is a dragon?”

“Have you met many people?”

“Are you very old?”

Vree watched with pleasure as his many pride-cubs delightedly mobbed Lady Hoshi, who filled a good part of the living space with her white scales, and was happily answering every question the cubs could come up with. He had been worried at first, it wouldn’t do to offend his draconic friend, but Lady Hoshi assured him that she adored children and was nearly impossible to offend.

(Dragons are beings of magic,) LadyHoshi was saying to Ga’pi, who had decided that his favorite place in the whole house was tucked between Lady Hoshi’s huge, white paws. (We are fire bound in scales. That is why we speak in flame. I have met a great many people in my life, and all of them have had wonderful stories to tell me, as all of you do, Meep. Yes, Za’ni, I am very old. A bit over thirty thousand years, in galactic years.)

Alright, Vree might be taking notes. The cubs were asking all the questions he never knew he wanted answers to. Ah, the imagination of cubs.

“What is Human-Earth like?” Kreet asked, utterly fearless and cuddled into Lady Hoshi’s mane, where he was firing questions as fast as he could come up with them. “Is it hot and dry like Ha’reet?”

(Some parts are,) Lady Hoshi said and playfully pinned him with one paw so she could groom his ears. He wiggled and squealed, but couldn’t get free. The rest of his littermates giggled at their antics. (My old friend Blaec, who I believe you’ve seen in your uncle’s presentation, broke shell in a place called Egypt, which is a desert very much like Ha’reet.)

“She’s very good with them,” Ah’ti noted from the door. She was busy whisking up the sauce for Vree’s favorite roasted pastries, He was helping whenever she needed another pair of hands, but mostly he was staying out of the way and keeping an eye on the cubs. “I wouldn’t have expected it, but I suppose there’s not much she isn’tgood at, is there?”

“I wouldn’t imagine so,” Vree agreed, noting each of the cub’s questions and the answers in his notes. “She Hoards knowledge, and she has had a very long time to practice. Also, as she and Lord Petros have told me, most immortal beings cherish children, because it is often difficult to have them.”

“Does Lady Hoshi have any of her own?”

“No.” Vree had asked during his visit to Earth and had been surprised by the answer. “She told me she has never met another dragon who pleased her enough to share a clutch with. Lord and Lady Petros don’t’ have children either.”

“Why not?”

“They never desired them, according to Lady Petros, although they certainly could have them, or could have long before now if they chose.”

Ah’ti watched, ears cocked attentively, as her litter peppered the ancient dragon with questions. Some were rude, but Lady Hoshi never seemed to mind and answered each question carefully even when it was an answer the cubs might not understand completely. Vree found himself enjoying the gentle sounds of the cubs giggling, and of Hoshi herself. Such a large being, of course, had a specific sound to her. The same low, rumble of her breathing was much quieter in Lady Hoshi than it was in Lord Petros, but it was the same sound of a furnace that Vree remembered.

“Come help me with the cha’ha’row. Grandmother’s recipe never goes right for me.”

“It’s because the recipe she wrote down isn’t right,” Vree told her and went about pulling down all the ingredients for the chewy, crunchy candy that was one of his favorite foods in two galaxies. “She bakes the crust half again as long, and nearly doubles the spices.”

“I should have known,” Ah’ti muttered, although she passed him the biggest mixing bowl and got out of his way. “Note the proper amounts for me, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Vree agreed, one ear still tilted towards the living space, which was visible over the long counter that separated the kitchen from the living area. It was vital for a pride-home when there were more than twenty people to feed, and limited space to feed them in. “I’ll keep an eye on things.”

Well, keep an ear on things, really. He could hear the children asking questions, and Lady Hoshi both answering, and asking questions of her own. That wasn’t a surprise. He knew she would like to get to meet the cubs and hear what they had to say. After all, the living experience of cubs was something that so few people ever wrote down. For a knowledge-hoarder, it was a gift beyond price.

Exactly what Vree hoped for when he invited the dragon to visit his home on Ha’reet.

(How are you educated?) Lady Hoshi was asking the cubs when Vree turned his attention to measuring out the spices for cha’ha’row. (I know that the rest of your pride-cubs are elsewhere.)

“We’re all starting basic school after Mid-Year,” Kreet told her brightly, still pinned but apparently content to stay that way as she carefully groomed his ears. “Most of our First-Litter started last year, but they were born right before the rains, so they got to go early.”

“And our Pride-cousins went three years ago,” Ga’pi added. “they’re all Auntie Meek’a and Uncle Zo’boh’s and they’re older.”

(You will join them soon,) Lady Hoshi promised her with a smile in her mental ‘voice’ that Vree could hear from across the room. (And perhaps when your Pride-mothers say you are old enough, you might come visit me. Now, gather around, and I will tell you a story of a very brave Ha’reet who looked up at a dragon god and asked him to give mercy where none was deserved.)

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HGE - UNconventional:

Vree really doesn’t know how  he ended up being one of the premiere human specialists of the Galactic Alliance,  but now everyone wants him to do presentations. Amir thinks the whole  thing is hilarious, and insists on ‘helping’ whenever he can.

Firebursts (Subscriber Only!)

Hot and Cold

Splish Splash (Free on Patreon!)

Furnace Rumble (Subscriber Only!)

Aftermath (Subscriber Only!)

Much Better, Much Worse (Free on Patreon!)

Four More

Family Home  (Free on Patreon!)  

Ancient Pine

Match Unlit   (Free on Patreon!)

Attack of Savages

Fine Wood Shavings

World Wide Web

Crunch and Crack

Blooming Vines

Twin Sun Sand (Free on Patreon!)

Dragon at the Door (Free on Patreon!)

Knowledge Beloved

Skull-carved (Free on Patreon!)  

It Means Vampire (Subscriber Only!)

Duel Honor (Subscriber Only!)

Unexpected Imperial  (Subscriber Only!)

Armed Disarmed  (Free on Patreon!)

The Nature of Time  (Subscriber Only!)

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MASTERLIST

[zachsgamejournal]

COMPLETED: Breath of Fire 3

It is done. God is dead. Well...a self-proclaimed god. While we cheated, my son and I did beat the game...and, despite this being one of my favorite RPGs, it's uh...my first time "beating" it.

So! We crossed the desert into the futuristic city that now lies in ruins and took the elevator up to the Myria Orbital station. It's, uh, a space station connected to the earth by an elevator shaft...I guess. Concept Art

After all the wandering about, I was pretty ready to meet "God" and get this over with--but it's the finale, so they had to make it count. We wandered about, trying to feel our way around the "space station". Eventually, we found a room I had forgotten about...it had electrified floors. To un-electrify them, there are three consoles. Each console has a pattern of negative and positive signs on a grid. You have to get the three patterns to over-lap so that the postive-negative charges cancel each other out. But with three panels, you run into issues of two positives and one negative occupying the same space: thus it stays electrified.

Clever idea: yes. Fun idea: no.

One console is in the room with the floor, and the other two consoles are in a completely different room, separated by a 30 second walk not counting the one or two random battles you're likely to get. I got really frustrated, and my son went and told my wife: "That game is making daddy nuts!"

Anyway, I figured it out and moved on. This required a boss fight (easy enough cause we're cheating), which got us a keycard and special plant-killing shells for Momo. Going back to the other wing of the station, Momo uses the special shells to blow up plant vines blocking the door (not unlike a puzzle in Resident Evil 2...).

I think beyond this, we find a labyrinth of utility hallways. I had to back track a few times. Eventually we get to an indoor garden.

FLASHBACK: (not in the game, but mine)

Back when I first tried to play this game, I defeated every challenge thrown at me. I think I did have the guide to the game, but it was mostly used to help me through some sticky parts (and look at the cool art!). I made it to the final dungeon (Myria Station) but struggled to beat the final boss.

As a matter of fact. I never beat the final boss.

I needed to be a higher level. To reach that level, I did some grinding in the garden area. Mostly, you fight Plant 42s, which I loved since it was a reference to the mutated Resident Evil plant. But it shocked me to see that the exp was about 800, when there are fights elsewhere in the station that land closer to the 2k range. Surely that would have been more effective leveling?

Either way--I just never got strong enough to win the final boss.

BACK TO PRESENT:

We find Teepo here. Jack and Rei are surprised as hell! My son was excited, cause we all thought Teepo was dead. Turns out, Teepo is also a dragon, just like Jack. But instead of wandering the world with Garr and Nina, he joined the Goddess Myria who convinced him that his powers were dangerous. So he surrendered himself to her and is now her brain-washed lapdog, more or less.

Teepo causes Ryu to go into a weird dream (which we had to play twice due to game-freeze). Here, Ryu is exposed to the thoughts and anxieties of his party members. This is supposed to convince him to surrender his power like Teepo, but it doesn't.

Nina apparently struggles to please her mother by being a good, respectable princess while also trying to be herself and pursue her own sense of justice: such as helping Ryu and saving Rei!

Rei...I guess is concerned about his own power as Weretiger. Mostly, he just seems to want to help his old friend?

Garr wants to reconcile why he was ordered to kill hundreds of dragons, especially then they easily could have defended themselves--but they didn't.

Momo wants to understand all the advanced tech here, and how it could be used to better the world.

Peco is apparently the fucking tree of Yggdrassil in mobile form, and wanders about with thousands of years worth of world-knowledge, but can't communicate it to the team cause he doesn't speak English.

So anyway, Ryu doesn't relent and Teepo must be defeated. He dies and turns into a purple dragon. Rei and Ryu are sad, but yo--dick move.

Next, we have to find our way to Myria. First, there's this confusing 3 level maze of boss rooms that have you fighting past bosses, sometimes several at a time. It was annoying, and my son was done with it. WE JUST WANT TO MEET GOD!

Once through, we find a super sci-fi, futuristic room with holograms explaining Myria's intentions. The advanced world was being consumed by sand. My guess is that pollution made that world self destructive. Myria led her people to a greener, more flourishing land and then built a giant ocean between them to stop the sands. She also made the ocean very dangerous so the humans wouldn't return. Some how, she feared the power of the dragons would bring about another sand-issue, so she had them killed to save humans.

Now, this seems like a Lost scenario where Myria is no God, and likely didn't actually build any oceans. Instead, she helped people escape their self-destructive technology, and then controlled people's knowledge of tech so they wouldn't repeat past mistakes. So basically, she kept building machines and letting them fall in the ocean so they'd wash up on shore (Steel Beach). This allowed people to use machines a little, but not "make" machines.

I think she really feared dragon power as a threat to her own power, and wanted them out of the equation since they didn't submit to her rule. Since she martyred herself as a savior of humans, she felt justified in her genocide.

Ryu chooses whether to help her or fight her. But she warns that fighting her would mean facing the desert without her protection. Warning that holds little merit in my mind, cause she's a liar.

So we fought her. We defeated her.

The space station starts to crumble. Garr decides he's completed his journey and turns to stone like the other guardians. Everyone else escapes. Myria prays to God, asking, "If there is a God..." revealing that she was playing a part and did not actually know shit (like Jacob in Lost).

Afterwards, Ryu is seen joining his friends at a cliff overlooking a desert: fade to black.

Despite the many deviations the story takes for the sake of taking up time, I really enjoy this game. The world is well defined and the characters are good. Even the villains often have empathetic motivations, or perspectives that make you doubt your first conclusions. The game also tackles a variety of concepts that are morally challenging and deals with death and sacrifice in meaningful ways. It led to great conversations between my son and I. The last leg of the game is a bit tedious and shallow. I understand why they felt compelled to make it "bigger", but they used up most of their plot early on.

We cheated. We had infinite health and all that. Basically, we just killed all the grinding and retries. The game has a great story and fun mini games (and the sound track is fucking amazing!) so I don't think much is lost by skipping the tedious random battles and leveling up. If that's something you want as part of your experience, go for it.

It's just, for RPGs like this, the best things about them are story, characters, mini-games, puzzles, and exploring. The fighting is fine, and expected, but it shouldn't take up 70% of your play time when it's really only about 10% of the fun (if that).

So I feel no shame in cheating.

My son wants to play Breath of Fire 4 now. I'm excited to revisit this one (I actually beat it before (no cheating))!

[jebazzled]

So you want to write a want ad.

Surprise! JB coming you today not with unsolicited opinions on apps, but with unsolicited opinions on want ads.

Want ads: love filling them, hate writing them, mixed experiences being part of them. Let's talk about want ads: the responsibilities of writing them, and how to write them in a way that gets people to bite.

WANT ADS: RESPONSIBILITIES

I am a firm believer that when you post a want ad, you have a number of responsibilities to the person who takes your ad:

When you approve a character for your want ad, you owe it to the writer to plot with them.

You owe it to the writer to thread regularly with them.

If you know that you are highly territorial and don’t want characters who are tightly plotted with yours to be tightly plotted with anyone else, you should not be making want ads.

Let's go over what I mean with each of these.

When you approve a character for your want ad, you owe it to the writer to plot with them. When someone writes a character for your want ad, they are often writing a custom character, from scratch, often for a specific plot. This may or may not be a character the writer can reuse elsewhere. They put in a lot of effort for something that you said you wanted, and you owe it to them to come through with the plot you asked for.

This means that you should be proactively plotting with this character, not waiting for the writer to message you asking what you want to do. This means that you should not leave the writer on read. This means that you should be thinking about making this plot enjoyable for both you and the other writer.

You owe it to the writer to thread regularly with them. Again: this person wrote a custom character for you, and is now doing the work of building other plots for this character. You asked for this character, you asked for this plot. Someone may have joined the site for this plot. You owe it to the writer to give them the plot you asked for.

If you do not have the time to regularly contribute to one or more threads at a time with this person, you should not be writing a want ad.

If you know that you are highly territorial and don’t want characters who are tightly plotted with yours to be tightly plotted with anyone else, you should not be making want ads. It is unfair to expect plot exclusivity from other people unless you have made that expectation clear from the get-go. Often, want ad-takers are new members looking for a want ad & plot as a way to get started on a site. If you are not comfortable with the taker of your want ad plotting extensively with anyone else, you should only request want ads from people you are close to and comfortable with.

If certain common plots make you uncomfortable (e.g. : if your ad is for finals and you are uncomfortable with the requested character having romantic history with other characters onsite) you should say so in the ad.

"What if I don't like the way the character turned out?"

The most common reason I hear for people not actively plotting or threading with characters written for their want ads is because they don't like how the character turned out or don't like writing with the member who took the ad.

These are both stupid reasons you can head off earlier than when a character is accepted.

When someone shows interest in taking your want ad, proactively communicate with them. Being in touch with the writer while they initially write the character means you will be able to better communicate what you are looking for and what you are excited about.

If you do not like the way the character turned out or do not want to write with the member taking the ad, you should let staff know before or while the app is under review. Many sites ask for member input on applications submitted for want ads.

If you are unwilling to communicate with another writer or with staff to resolve an issue surrounding a want ad, you should not be writing a want ad.

I understand and agree that confrontation, whether on a small or large scale, can be frightening and anxiety-inducing. I promise you that the "confrontation" of telling staff a certain member makes you uncomfortable and you don't want to write with them, or telling a writer that you don't think their character is quite right for your request, will have much less fallout than you giving every indication that there is no problem, and then completely ignoring this character and writer. (I know this from experience.)

If you are unwilling to potentially take on this confrontation - and 9 times out of 10 it isn't even that bad - you should only request characters from people who you trust to pull off the character in a way that makes you happy.

If there are only a handful of people you would actually be excited to write this character with: you should not be writing a want ad. If you would only thread with this character if they are written by one of your friends, ask one of your friends to write them. Want ads cast a wide net. If you are not comfortable with a wide net, ask your friends to write the character. And if none of your friends will write the character: you need to find a way to write your character without the wanted one.

(This is a great argument in favor of never making a character rely upon another played character to make sense: you never know when a request will go unfilled, when someone will ghost, or when muse will die.)

WANT ADS THAT PEOPLE WILL WANT

Still want to write a want ad? Alright. Let's get to it.

A good want ad is both specific enough to be intriguing and vague enough to give plenty of room for development. A good want ad sets the requested character up for a compelling plot without isolating them from other stories onsite. A good want ad is exciting to write for.

Let's look at some premises for want ads, and how to make them more compelling.

4-5 coworkers for Susie Creamcheese, a type-A 30-something.

BETTER:

Parks & Rec-inspired 4-5 coworkers for Susie Creamcheese, a type-A 30-something.

Why is this better? Giving the group an easily-referenced dynamic helps potential takers get a sense of the personalities at play. They almost certainly won't pull the characters wholesale, just overall types - e.g. a himbo, a dark horse, a straight man (the comedy archetype), a square, a nervous optimist. The vibe is specific but the details are wide open.

Twin brother and sister who held Sally Pumpernickel hostage in their treehouse for three weeks. In the first week Sally tried to escape, but in week two she developed a crush on the twin brother. He tried to get the twin sister to let Sally out of the treehouse, so she took Sally to a different treehouse and told Sally that she had a vision about the brother being an elk shapeshifter.

BETTER:

Twin brother and sister with a dark history - they held Sally Pumpernickel hostage in their treehouse for three weeks two years ago. Sally has feelings for the brother, who may or may not be a shapeshifter.

Why is this better? The original idea was WAY too specific, with every beat of the plot planned out. Asking someone to take on cowriting a story you've already outlined in your head is an unfair proposition, as it allows them very little room to develop their own character. If you need tight control over every single beat of a plot you should probably just write it as original fiction!

Little brother needed for Mary (played by X) - also is boyfriend to Kathy (played by Y), and best friend to Peggy (played by Z). The big complication? He is framed for the attempted murder of Peter (played by Y), who was Mary's boyfriend.

BETTER:

Little brother needed for Mary - this character has been framed for the attempted murder of her boyfriend as well.

Why is this better?

This less complicated request is better for a number of reasons:

Keeps the two most important parts of the request (the sibling role & the attempted murder)

Allows the writer more control over their character's other relationships

Doesn't lock the writer into a closed-group plot situation

What do I mean by a "closed-group plot situation?" In my experience, plots with this tangled sort of quality often lead to a cliquey dynamic. This itself isn't inherently a bad thing - sites are communities, and any community develops close groups - but it does mean that it can be difficult for a new member to feel included with the clique, or to be able to plot outside of the clique if all their character's connections are with the same handful of members. It also means that if the clique has a falling out, members might have a hard time setting their characters up elsewhere on site.

Older sister needed for Sadie Sourdough. Sister raised Sadie in the middle of a desert after their parents went missing. Sadie idolizes her and cares about her a lot but also resents her for getting sick, which meant Sadie had to leave her job abroad.

BETTER: 

Sadie Sourdough's older sister, Sandy - Sandy raised Sadie in the middle of a desert after their parents went missing. When Sadie left to work abroad, Sandy was proud, but also relieved, as this meant she could pursue her dream of underwater basketweaving - but when she caught the Water Sickness, Sadie had to come take care of her, and now their roles are reversed.

Why is this better? The function of the character is the same, but this ad focuses on the requested character, which both gives a writer more to work with and keeps the plot from being entirely self-serving. Remember, rp is a game for two or more - nothing you do can be all about you!

WANT ADS: FILLING THEM

As long as I have you here: let's talk about filling want ads. Quick and dirty tips! 

DON’T only post in the want ad onsite; reach out to the poster individually! Talking to them about what you have in mind and getting a sense for how it compares with what they're looking for will help you determine whether this want ad is for you or if you'd like to go in a different direction, and will save you the effort of writing a whole character just for the plot not to take off.

DO think of other potential plots and points of connection for your character. While you might be writing them for a specific plot, you should have ideas for plots and opportunities outside that plot. You never know when a writing partner will ghost, drop a character, or lose their muse for a plot, and your character should make just as much sense without the person who requested them as they do when you are writing with that person.

DO have fun! This is your character, and you get to decide how to write them. Don't feel like every single thing about your character needs to be determined by the person whose request you're filling. RP writing is improv - you don't get to control everyone else's writing and characters - and if the person whose request you're filling wants to be super controlling of every element of that character, perhaps it is a red flag!

IN CONCLUSION,

Want ads are not something to be taken lightly: you're asking someone to put in a lot of effort for a plot you want! Hopefully this tutorial has given you some food for though in your approach to writing and filling want ads. Happy roleplaying, and best of luck with all your character requests!