#to be clear I do not ship any of the wolves together I view them as a family and am personally uncomfortable with people -

[fawnnbinary]

more brother momence for us tonight, but Geralt and Lambert this time. when your brother "knows a guy" for everything and half the time the guy is is bf, and the other half of the time he is the guy

[kelseaaa]

Together with the Sundown

Day Zero: Sleepless Night

Part 1/4 | AO3 | Masterlist

Pairing: Lieutenant Oliver Cochrane x f!MC (Abigail Bellamy)

Word Count: 3,004

Series Summary:  This story takes place on Lieutenant Oliver’s ship just after he saves the Poseidon's Revenge’s crew from the island and before they get to Port Monarque in Chapter 13. Since the book says that it takes a few days to get to the port, I wanted to expand on what might happen on the ship between Oliver, MC and the crew. I headcanon that it took them three full sea days to arrive at the port and this story will give insight on what might have happened, specifically between Oliver and MC.

Warnings: Angst with the smallest amount of fluff (don’t worry, it gets better)

~~~~~

Darkness.

Abigail was engulfed in the darkness inside one of the past officer’s cabins aboard The Intrepid, Lieutenant Oliver Cochrane’s ship. She was wide awake, her mind busy, keeping her from the rest she so desperately wanted and quite frankly needed after the myriad of events that had taken place the past few days. 

It was late. Everyone else was already fast asleep in their own sleeping quarters. Every creak and groan the wooden vessel made just pulled Abigail further and further from her slumber. With a frustrated sigh, she finally gave up and swiftly kicked the covers off her body. Standing from the bed, Abigail threw on her white blouse and black trousers, forgoing her boots, and quietly walked out of her room.

The ship’s deck was eerily silent, save for the lapping of the waves against the hull and the wind billowing into the sails. As soon as Abigail made it to the railing she cursed herself for leaving her boots in the room. The chill from the wind and dampness on her toes sent a shiver through her spine. But she needed this. She needed a moment to get out of her head and maybe just a moment to not think about what was to come when they finally made it to Port Monarque.

As Abigail gazed out over the vast ocean - the water a stark black since the sun had set - she thought back to her morning on the island where her crew worked desperately to find a way off. Her lips twitched to a smile as she thought back to the raft - if you could even call it that - they were attempting to build.

And now here they were aboard Oliver’s ship, sailing to their destination. They were saved, in a sense. Saved by a man who, only a few weeks ago, would have liked nothing more than to see her crew put away and never seen again.

At least so she thought.

Oliver Cochrane - a Lieutenant in the British Navy and the son of one vile devil known as Admiral Francis Cochrane. Oliver had lied to her in the beginning and that was something she may never forgive nor forget. 

Another shiver went up her spine, but this time it wasn’t from the cold. The memory of her night on the Admiral’s ship played through her mind. The memory of Oliver, someone she thought she could trust, leaving her to the wolves.

But he had come back. Come back for her. And he made a promise to never hurt her again, but she needed more than words to believe him. She needed actions. She hoped that she didn’t let her crew down for letting her heart get in the way, like Edward had so easily implied when they were back on the island.

She was so lost in her thoughts that Abigail didn’t hear the sound of a door opening or the soft footsteps walking up behind her. It wasn’t until someone quietly called her name that her concentration was broken and she turned around. As soon as her eyes met his, she froze, breath hitching in her throat.

Oliver stood a couple feet behind her, still clad in his Navy uniform though his head was divested of his hat. His pale blonde hair was still tied back into its usual loose bun, a few wayward strands clinging to his forehead due to the humidity in the Carribean air. He stood tall and stoic as ever, his gaze never wavering from Abigail’s face.

In that moment, Abigail wondered what it would be like. To let go of her fears and break down her walls. To trust him fully and accept that he was truly there to help not only her but the crew - the family - she had grown to love over the past few weeks. She wondered if this, them, him, would be enough for her.

However, things with Oliver had been moving fast, too fast for her liking. They barely knew each other but she was so ready to give in. To let go. Let whatever this was happen. It was reckless and insane and thrilling.

“Abigail?”

Oliver’s voice repeating her name brought her back to this reality, if that’s what you would call it. She blinked a few times, her eyes focusing back on him. She noticed that his usual serious face was now contorted with something else.

Concern.

“Hi,” was all she was able to muster out of her throat. It was quiet and she silently cursed herself for how meek and timid she sounded.

Abigail shot him a small smile and watched as he visibly relaxed, his facial features turning soft once again and the tension in his muscles grew loose. He took a few steps forward and stood alongside her against the ship’s railing. The pair looked out over the dark water in silence for a few moments before Oliver cleared his throat, turning his gaze to her.

“Are you alright, Abigail?” he asked and she could see his body shift a fraction of an inch closer to her. She could feel the heat radiating from him and smell his all too familiar scent of leather and ocean spray. Neither his words or actions should have made her feel this dizzy or confused, but yet here she was in that exact state.

Then, Abigail remembered the betrayal. She remembered all the moments Oliver had threatened her crew and her. Oliver giving chase to the Poseidon’s Revenge after leaving Tiburon, causing them to weather the storm. Being ambushed aboard this very ship and being locked away below deck. And finally when Oliver simply left her alone on his father’s ship with barely a goodbye.

Suddenly her mind cleared and she felt her walls go back into place. This man was still a Lieutenant in the British Navy who chased pirates - her crew. He had to prove himself and Abigail wasn’t going to let her guard down so easy.

However she knew that if she spoke, her voice would betray her intentions so Abigail simply nodded in response to his question. From her periphery she could see his brows furrow ever so slightly and his lips twitch into a small frown. Yet she remained focused and unwavered, doing everything in her power to not crash and burn.

Then, Oliver gently placed his hand on top of hers and Abigail’s body went rigid and melted at the same time.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded and finally Abigail broke her gaze away from the boundless sea in front of them. Looking into his warm eyes, she could feel her resolve slowly slipping away. But she was an actress, she knew how to hold it together and put up a front. She was strong and almost fearless. She could handle one measly Navy Lieutenant.

Right?

So she turned the key in the imaginary lock that was her emotions and plastered on a not-so-obviously fake smile. She would be civil and friendly - as long as he did the same - and speak with him as if nothing was amiss. 

“I’m fine, I just couldn’t sleep,” Abigail responded which only made Oliver’s brow crease further.

Abigail’s heart fluttered ever so slightly when she felt the gentle caress of Oliver’s thumb tracing circles on her skin where his hand still rested upon hers and her eyes dipped down to where their hands rested. His calloused thumb was surprisingly soft and tender and she could feel the slight burn against her neck and cheek though she desperately hoped it wasn’t visible. She wondered if he knew what he was doing to her or if his actions were purely innocent and done out of care. However, now was not the time to break down and give in so early so she forced herself to look back out over the ship’s railing.

She kept her hand in place.

She wondered if Oliver could sense it. The reservations and the self control she was most likely emitting. She was too stubborn and too proud, just like the pirate she was.

And it almost looked like he had never been so enamored.

“But you seemed so tired earlier. I swore you were going to pass right out standing up.” Oliver said with a wry smile.

Admittedly she had been tired, exhausted really. She remembered leaning against the mast of the ship while talking with Maggie and Ginny and her eyes kept slowly drooping closed. It wasn’t until she felt Maggie’s hands on her shoulder, presumably holding her in place as she nearly toppled over, that Abigail had realized how tired she actually was. And Oliver had noticed as well.

Her cheeks flushed a little more. “I was tired, but when I finally laid down I couldn’t fall asleep. Too much on my mind,” she admitted.

Oliver gave her another cursory glance then turned to face back out into the sea ahead, his hand slipping off hers and back onto the ship’s railing. Abigail was instantly freezing again.

“So you came out here… without your shoes?” he questioned, “Do you realize how dangerous that could be aboard a ship?” Abigail expected him to sound coarse or even condescending, but truthfully he sounded concerned.

A small smile tugged at her lips at the thought of him worrying about her. “I like to be barefoot, it’s freeing.”

Oliver’s once concerned face morphed into confusion. “You like to be a bear foot?”

For a moment, Abigail’s face faltered as she realized that term must not have been coined in this time yet. But she was quick witted and easily schooled her face back to its friendly demeanor.

“Not a bear like the animal, bare as in without cover. It’s a common phrase from my hometown when you don’t wear any shoes.” He simply nodded, her answer seeming to have satisfied his curiosity for now.

There was an uncomfortable silence between them as they continued to look out at the horizon, only the ocean and the stars in their view. Abigail couldn’t remember the last time she was able to relax and enjoy this view. Though in truth she shouldn’t have been feeling relaxed at all, given the fact they were headed into unknown danger with Robert and the Admiral.

After a few more minutes of silence, Oliver cleared his throat and began to speak again. “Could you tell me about it?” Abigail glanced at him, waiting for him to elaborate more on what ‘it’ was. “Your hometown, I mean. I know you said that I have never heard of it but…” he paused for a moment, breaking his gaze from the ocean to look at her. A glimmer of something deep in his eyes that Abigail couldn’t quite place. “...I was hoping we could be honest with each other now. All things considered.”

Ah, right, of course he assumed she had lied about everything, as well.

However, now wasn’t the time nor the place to reveal any truths about her past - or future, technically. She wasn’t ready to open that can of worms, though deep down it pained her to lie to him again. So instead she put her acting skills to the test to try her best to skirt around his question with a half-truth.

“I never lied to you, Oliver. Not once.”

In some cases she was telling the truth. She had admitted that she was the navigator of the Poseidon’s Revenge which turned out to be true probably much to Oliver’s initial dismay.

“Aye, my apologies Abigail. I just- You’re such a peculiar woman. I would enjoy getting to know you better.”

“Peculiar?” she echoed, her lips tugging into a small smirk. “Is that supposed to be an insult, Lieutenant?”

Oliver’s eyes widened in almost horror as his mouth fell agape. “I- What- No! Abigail I would  never-” His stuttering was halted as the sound of laughter filled the air around him. Her laughter. Sweet and melodic with a slight rasp that trailed at the end. “Why are you laughing?”

Abigail took a moment to collect herself but the smile never left her lips. Watching Oliver’s shocked expression - cheeks tinged pink, lips parted and pupils blown wide - she realized that look was one of the most beautiful sights she had ever seen.

“I’m so sorry, Oliver,” she started, suppressing the small giggle that bubbled in her throat, “I was only joking.”

It took a few seconds but eventually Oliver’s lips quirk into a tight grin. “Ah, I see,” was the only thing he was able to respond with as he tried to remain stoic as ever. He failed miserably.

This was the side of Oliver she wanted. Similar to the one she met on that fateful day in Tiburon with his intense gaze but slightly happy-go-lucky demeanor. She wanted to remember the good even if it may have been a ruse. So for now, she pushed those memories away and schooled her features once again, and cleared her throat before she began to speak.

“So, Lieutenant,” she started, her voice turning sharp, “what good would it do for you to understand me better?” Abigail knew that her words must have stung a little as she watched Oliver wince before looking away from her.

Maybe he didn’t understand it either, she thought. Maybe he didn’t understand why he wanted to learn about this pirate woman that he barely knew. Perhaps he couldn’t believe he was here in this situation. Defying the Admiral’s orders and sailing with a pirate crew which went against the very nature of his being. But maybe he didn’t really care about all that, either.

So with a shaky breath, he finally spoke. “I am drawn to you,” he admitted after racking his brain for anything else to say but eventually falling on the truth. “There is something about you, Abigail, something I can’t explain. As though you are a siren calling me to treacherous waters. Tis an unexplainable feeling that I cannot shake.”

Thinking about the compass that constantly drew her to places unknown, Abigail realized that she may have understood his feelings more than he knew. But that was a different story for another time and right now between her cold, tired and fragile state, she couldn’t stand to hold back any further.

“I don’t understand you, Oliver. You’ve barely met me yet you’ve betrayed your commanding officer - your father - for what? For me? A silly girl?” Her heart felt as if it was lodged in her throat as she rambled. “You don’t even know me. And maybe that’s for the best. Even if you did, I doubt you would feel the same way as you do now.”

Oliver frowned, “You don’t know that, Abigail,” he countered. “I may not have known you long but I have never felt this way towards anyone. Ever. Please tell me you feel it, too.”

...She did.

At least, she thought she did. In all her life - past, present, future - she had never felt so strongly for another. It scared her. She was scared of the future. Scared of the way he fell so desperately for her and her to him, as well. Scared of his reckless abandon. Scared to get hurt again.

So when she couldn’t take it anymore, she broke. Deciding now wasn’t the time to hold back any further.

“You hurt me, Oliver,” when she spoke Oliver visibly winced again.

“Abigail, please-” He started to protest but Abigail quickly held up her hand to silence him, turning her head away.

She continued, “You dismissed my feelings and you left me alone on the Admiral’s ship. That can’t be easily forgiven and certainly not forgotten.” Though tears threatened the rims of her eyes, she blinked them back, struggling to hold on to the last bit of her resolve.

He reached out to touch her hand but she pulled away, stepping back from the railing and Oliver slowly lowered his hand back to his side. “Please,” she begged, her heart teetering dangerously inside her ribcage, “I just need time.”

Though time was really the last thing that they had.

Oliver was silent but he nodded his head. “I understand.”

Abigail didn’t make another move to leave, instead standing still on the deck with her arms wrapped around herself in a failed attempt at warmth.

“You should go back to your room, you’re freezing,” Oliver said, his voice kind but barely above a whisper. Though Abigail knew that all that awaited her was darkness and a restless night, she agreed that anywhere was better than the moment they were in right now.

Without a word, Abigail turned to retreat to her cabin below deck. With every step she took she felt a weight added to her shoulders and a sudden never ending pit fill her stomach. This wasn’t how she wanted to leave things, no matter how hurt she was. She made it a few feet before stopping and turning her head back to Oliver. She didn’t hear the silent gasp he exhaled when he watched her stop.

“I would like to trust you, Oliver,” she stated, her face indecipherable. “I can’t right now, but maybe one day.”

Oliver could feel his chest ache with desperation but also fill with a semblance of hope. “I would like nothing more, Abigail. I will do whatever it takes to prove to you my worth.” His lips twitched with a small grin and Abigail couldn’t help the flutter she felt in her chest at the sight.

“How about we start tomorrow?” she asked and Oliver nodded his head almost too eagerly. 

“Can I take you on a tour of the ship? You and your whole crew?” he asked.

She smiled. “I would like that.”

After a few more words and a final goodbye, Abigail made her way to her cabin, leaving Oliver alone on the deck. It didn’t take long for her newfound exhaustion to overtake her, the calming darkness and the gentle sounds of The Intrepid lulling her to sleep.

~~~~~

Author’s Notes: Thank you so much for taking your time to read part 1 of this story! I’me very excited for the rest of this adventure to be told. Please leave a like, comment or reblog if you enjoyed it! I appreciate every single note <3

~~~~~

Tagging: @jaxsmutsuo​, @krishu213​, @greedy-choices​

[jtavington]

I'm having trouble sticking to any one 3H play through due to choice paralysis when it comes to house and who to recruit. So I thought I would try to articulate what cast I would include for each route if I were novelizing them and try to articulate for myself how I see each route. And just to be clear I'm not saying this is the right way to view any of this, just me thinking out loud. Also, I'm horribly biased in favor of CF and VW ;)

CF: if this route got anymore blatant about the power of love and friendship, it would be an 80s cartoon. Edelgard is our designated tragic villain who would be executed by even an impartial court in Fodlan. But Byleth cares for her student so much that she sees that there's more to her than her actions in part one. Edelgard rewards that faith a hundredfold and the villain becomes a hero while traditionally heroic figures become villains. The ending is like something out of a fairytale, with the woman who never cries finally weeping and her beloved teacher "coincidentally”being restored to life and humanity. It's Edelgard’s route that keeps the friends group together for five years and she who gets the climactic speech about friendship played completely straight without even using it as a distraction. This is the route where the Death Knight can heal and be reunited with his family. This is the route where, frankly, love wins. It's also the route of revolution, where those who have suffered under the system say that time is up for peaceful reform and the route that can be pretty bleak unless you’re willing to put in quite a bit of work.

So... My first rule would be not to break up any found family groups if they can be avoided. The second is to pick up those characters who have particularly suffered under the Crest system. Sylvain, Lysithea Mercedes. And they bring their close friends. So basically the entire recruitable Blue Lions, Lysithea, Alois, and the Wolves in their entirety. Childhood friends and family reunited and I can toss in favorite non-BE ships like Netfelix. Hanneman and Manuela also join to give El much-needed character development.

VW: if you forced me to pick a "true" route, this would be it. It's the route where you finally learn the truth about Seiros and Relics. Like CF, the old order is swept away, if more gently. Claude is an outcast everywhere and so is determined to create a world without outcasts. Existing institutions are subverted rather than destroyed. The people nobody wants, who Fodlan at large would dismiss as hated by the Goddess are the ones who destroyed the devil figure for good. It's a route where the other lords are undone by their own flaws, which is either tragic or justice depending on your point of view. Despite that, it's probably the most cheerful route.

I would include those characters from other routes who are outcasts in some way. Definitely those who are people of color. Petra, Cyril, Shamir. The entire Wolves. Also the scholars Hanneman and Linhardt. Maximum number of Saints encountered: check.

AM: I have a love-hate relationship with AM. The students themselves rival the Eagles as my favorite, as you can probably tell from twisting myself into knots to recruit all of them that I could on CF. But I hate the idea of magic blood and rightful kings, and a lot of the stuff I like about White Clouds was just dropped. So keep that in mind.

But I'm dealing with the route I have, and there’s still a lot to unpack. In some ways, this is CF’s opposite. Dimitri is far from disinterested in the state of the world, but his concerns are more personal than the other two. He wants to keep the social order in place and reform it, mostly by making sure good people are in charge. And since the cost of social disruption disproportionately falls on those least able to bear it, that's not nothing. And it works, more or less. Dimitri, Sylvain, and Felix all accept their chosen roles and the world is better for it.

It's also, of course, a story of redemption. Dimitri looks too far gone to be saved, but the potential to be the Savior King is still within him. Recovery is possible for anyone, but they will have to work at it. And yet, there are some things that can't be changed. Arundel’s dying curse that either El or Dimitri will kill each other is fulfilled despite the fact that Dimitri loves her and his best efforts to prevent it. The best Mercedes can hope for is for Emile to die in her arms. Heck, even Dimitri's beloved stepmother who raised him is all but confirmed to have nearly got him killed. Love cannot overcome everything and the scars of the past will never be fully healed, but the world is still worth fighting for.

Caspar is recruited mostly to unlock his and Mercedes’ paralogue, but I’d also be inclined to make him kill Linhardt just to keep the doomed childhood friends theme going. Marianne as well for her depression improving and her supports with Dimitri. Catherine for her support with Ashe, which is a beautiful example of letting go of the past and forgiving even when it's hard. Ferdinand as the best of what the current system has to offer. And Dorothea to give another mentally scarred vet a break. Everybody but Balthus from the Wolves and he isn't out of the question.

Silver Snow: The only route where I was glad I was on antidepressants. Byleth fully embraces the role as Sothis’ second coming and boy do they pay for it. One thing that struck me was that several times they say that they want to run away or otherwise avoid fighting, other people tell them they can't, and those other people are right. Fate cannot be denied and that fate mostly involves people dying horribly and nations falling apart. You spend most of your time looking for Rhea, she finally sees you as your own person and regrets her actions, only to have it yanked away from you by her going mad. No one wants the final battle and yet it must be fought to music that’s a funeral dirge. There's the smallest possibility of light in the end of the tunnel in Rhea's surviving and truly becoming what she claimed to be, but you will really have to work at it.

The snarky part of me says that I shouldn't recruit anyone. If I'm so committed to destiny, I should take what the game gives me and like it. But that's unnecessarily grim and a pain to play. I would pick up Lysithea because Retribution is my favorite paralogue and really fits here. The faculty because why not and I insist on having one route where Seteth/Manuela is a thing. Constance and Yuri only from the Wolves because I won’t force Hapi to work with people she hates that much.

[ask-jaghatai-khan]

Marked

// A spooky short story for my Sylvaneth faction.

“I saw it! In the trees! Whence I was riding southward from the Fell Holdfast. Over the highlands I came, and I could see the woodline not far off. I dared not draw near, but it was an easier mark of my direction than the cliffs. The day had grown long, and by chance I spotted an odd shape among the trunks. Like any other black arbor of the western woods, but then I looked closer, and – it had near the shape of a man. I looked away for but a moment at the passing of a breeze, and when I looked back I saw two great eyes. Staring at me! Like the lamplit gaze of an owl. I was so shocked I near fell from my horse, and yet when I looked once more, the shape and its deathly eyes were gone.

Though – I could have sworn I heard something on the wind as I rode away. Almost like a song. So off-put was I by the specter that I dared not listen to the words, though thinking now on them, I wonder if I could have understood them at all. A grim experience all around; and I’ve crossed swords with heathens!”

A round of murmurs followed the old warrior’s story. Some in accord and some laden with skepticism. The horseman had attracted quite the audience from the mead-hall’s patrons, but there were plenty of unnatural tales to be heard on the borders of the Shrouded Nowhere.

“I question you, rider,” came the voice of one drinker, a swarthy man no doubt from one of the southern fishing hamlets, “You saw a shade upon the western border-woods? Were that true, you’d not be here to tell the tale. Raiders down from the mountains, or wolves on the moors – those dangers I could believe, but no man who sees the spirits of the west-woods lives to speak of it.”

“T’was only for a moment! No doubt if I’d tarried longer, I would have been taken by the fiend! It was the Terror, I tell you! One of the Old Spirits!” the traveler rebuked.

“You should make a sacrifice to the forest,” one woman spoke. A tough lady, weather-beaten beyond her few years, and a native to this particular village, “You’ll carry the gaze of the Old Spirits on you now. If you don’t plead for help from the gods, what curse might follow you?”

“You should head south,” came another warrior’s voice, “Take passage on a mist-cutter. No telling what fate awaits you at sea, but it must be better than your luck on land, horsemaster.”

“That was my plan even before I saw the specter,” the old man nodded, “But now I figure I have no choice. Either I can find a ship that might bear me beyond the Mists or I live ever in fear of the sight of trees.”

“It won’t do no good!” the woman snapped again, “You have a black mark upon you, whether you see it or not! You must pray to have it removed! Even were luck to favor you, and your ship is borne out into the greater Realm beyond these foggy shores – the Wild Hunt will follow you still! The Old Spirits have chosen you, and only the Everqueen, or Sigmar, or even the cursed Shadow King can help you now!”

“Madwoman,” the swarthy man wagged his beard, “This is why I never journey this far north if I can help it. You lot are spend more time worrying about woodland faeries than practical concerns. You know I’ve heard that barbarians have been spotted gathering in the shoals to the east—”

“What do you know, fisherman?” the girl spat, the mood of the drunken gathering turning hostile fast.

“What do you know, horse-herder?” came the southerner’s reply.

The woman’s grey eyes grew dark then beneath her wild, nut-brown hair; her knuckles white on the handle of her flagon, “My brother was taken by the Old Spirits. Eighteen years past, when we were but children. He wandered into the southmost reaches of the west-woods on the night of the solstice, and never did I see him again.”

“Smart boy.” Came a sarcastic mutter from somewhere, which prompted the woman to spin about with fury, looking for the source.

“I’ll take your advice,” the old horseman raised his hand, trying to quell the tempers his story had roused, “But what foul luck! Fifty years riding across the highland wastes, and not once have the west-woods cursed me ‘til now. Damned ghosts knew I was bound southward in my old age. No horsemaster could ever be allowed to leave the wastes!”

“Maybe not, but now I’m wondering if a strandman might stand to see a bit more of Ulgu,” the dark southerner remarked, “I should see if I can’t get passage through the Mists while I still have my better years, lest I end up like you lot.”

A round of discontented arguing followed that, though the crowd dispersed back to their respective tables before any brawl could break out. It was late, and no one was quite in the mood to get kicked out of the sole mead-hall in town. The old horseman was left alone, though the last notice he was given came from the local lady – she made no gesture, but her grey eyes met those of the old man with a dire look before she too trudged off.

The horseman spent that night in the inn just across the main road – a lopsided construction two stories high, though with sturdy walls to hold off the chilling winds of the midland wastes. There was no wall about the little village, and from his window on the upper floor the traveler was given an unimpeded view all the way out into the moors, where the grey sky and land mixed together into a veritable ocean of fog.

Though the night was growing long, and he had long miles to ride come morning, the man couldn’t sleep. His memories gnawed at him, and with the candle in his room extinguished he gazed out into the starlit moors like a deer watching for the source of a sound it thought it had heard.

And to his ears there did come a sound, then. Not one he realized he was hearing at first, believing it a fearful memory playing off the faint rattling of the inn’s timbers. Yet as the humming melody went on, the man’s breaths grew short, and his heartbeat quickened.

Lost souls wander Nowhere’s Mists

Forgetting all they had

Yet under root and soil black

They can at last be glad

With a soundless cry of abject terror, the horseman’s eyes fixed on a singular shape distinguished in the swirling fog-seas beyond the village borders. Out in the wastes, among the rocks and grass, there stood one black form like a lone tower in fields of grey. A tree. A black, gnarled tree, looking like a cursed thing which might have been used to hang untold numbers of sinners. Yet as the man looked longer, its form seemed less like a tree and more like the upright form of a man, crowned with branches as woodland king.

Oh wander not, you hopeless soul

Come to me and rest

Remember darkness left behind

With sleep you will be blessed

For how many decades had he rode the highlands? For how many long years had that traveler avoided the predations said to lurk within those black woods? And yet now they had come for him. He had lain eyes upon that which mortals were never supposed to see. He had been chosen, marked, cursed, and not even the Everqueen would deign to save him now.

Within that dark silhouette out on the moors, at that point where the tree-thing’s branches met its trunk, two lambent lights ignited. Like hellfire they burned, cold and distant as stars, yet brimming with a malign glow. He could not look away. The song continued in his mind, in his very soul, and to the mortal man it felt as though he were already dead.

In the morning when the maid came up, soon after the sun rose behind the usual overcast veil, she found the door to the traveler’s room still shut. Breakfast had come and gone, and the man had made clear the previous night his intent to leave as soon as possible, yet the stableman was waiting for him and he’d not yet handed over his keys to the inn’s owner. The maid knocked, and knocked again, but there came no reply.

The locksmith was fetched, and by his ministrations was the rough door soon sprung open, yet that offered little consolation.

He was nowhere to be seen, that horseman from the northern wastes. Nothing of him, nor any signs as to what might have become of him. The windows were shut and the door had been locked – what few possessions the man had carried were accounted for, save for a few odds and ends one might have expected him to keep on his person. Yet his axe was left behind, along with his rations and most of what would be needed for his trip. More than that, he’d never even come to collect his horse.

No one in the tavern had seen the man go, yet few showed any real regard or interest. In the end, it was left untalked about, as he’d paid his fees the night before, and it was not good luck in Nowhere to inquire after missing persons under such circumstances.

Far across the horizons, over broad highlands unbroken by tree or even high shrub, there rose at last the black line of the Mistbranch Forest. In those northern reaches were its trunks and canopy ever more foreboding and unwelcoming than even those misted borders to the south – and from within those midnight depths, there floated a sorrowful song.

[minerstatus]

Fire Flower

Pairing: Amber/Razor with hints of others.

Summary:

Razor is convinced by none other than Amber to assimilate into human life after leaving his pack. She just didn’t expect him to have changed so much in the months after their last meeting.

“What are you doing in my house!”

“I missed your smell.”

“Razor!”

Crack ship where Razor gets a growth spurt and is confused about it. Diluc tries to help him. Kaeya tries his best to undo that help. And Amber tries to teach Razor boundaries with little success.

Chapters: 9/?

Chapter one:

Razor can do many things other humans can't being raised by wolves. Surviving in the wild alone isn’t an easy feat if you were raised in the city. And he likes to think his fighting skills challenge even the best of the Favonius knights. Even if the castle guards like to call it “wild" or “animalistic".

But there are some things he lacks being raised in the wild. Things not even Lupus Boreas could answer when he asked. The god even told him to stop asking human questions after the last set.

It started the day he met that girl in red. Not the child he now knew as “Klee" but the older girl. Hes tried hard to remember her name, but it escapes him even at night as he lays under the stars. Normally they offer some form of guidance, but now they stay stubbornly silent.

He can still remember the scent rolling off her and into his sensitive nose. Spicy, maybe clove or cinnamon with a hint of fire flower. He could tell it was natural, just the way she smelled. It didn’t burn like some of the girls, and even guys, that lived in the surrounding villages. He does his best to stay away from them for that reason.

No, this girl smells different. In a good way. It reminds him of cold nights by the fire right before his pack would migrate to warmer lands for winter. Or that one time someone gave him a strange warm concoction they called “coco" that warmed his belly as he drank. Leaving him craving for more once the cup was empty in his hands.

She vanished as fast as they met. Tying up loose ends and making sure his name was clear. Something he didn’t even thank her for. In fact, she didn’t seem all too pleased with him the last time they spoke.

That was during the height of the heat. He thought as time passed she would vanish from his memory.

But as the land transitioned from summer to the chill start of winter that girl and her scent never completely left his mind. Her wide, curious, slightly accusing eyes staring him down in his sleep.

Living alone without a pack now only increased his troubling thoughts. Lupus was right, hes human and not a wolf. When his pack began traveling west to avoid the harsh winter, he left them. And the lack of emotion they showed at his loss confirmed what he needed to know.

He took up residence in a small cave along one of the ravine walls in Wolvendom after taking one glace at the massive city where most of the “humans" lived. He may not be a wolf, but he wasn’t sure if he was a human either, and the thought of assimilating into any human encampment makes his insides feel as if they were on his outsides.

By the time winter was closing its icy jaws across the kingdom his cave was outfitted with what he thought he needed for the season. Even Lupus , the only wolf that would still speak with him, warned him of the harsh conditions.

He took extra precautions. Stacking wood in the back corner until it hit the ceiling. Making a proper fire pit with a cooking pot he snatched from a Hilichurls camp. And a bed made of straw he took from a traveling cart on the roads.

But as the days drew on he found it harder to stay warm during the night. Even with a full fire next to him.

His naivety lead to danger. A storm settled in while he slept. He had even heard some of the travelers talking about it earlier today as they rushed back to the villages earlier than normal. The word “storm” to him didn’t mean much. He assumed it would rain and gust over the mountain, not snow. Snow was not something had ever needed to worry about. He didn’t even know it existed.

Fear actually seeped into his consciousness as he sat huddled by a fire staring at the entrance to his shallow home. The flakes coming down so heavy he couldn’t see the tree on the other side of the ravine.

He never thought of death before this moment. But as he lost the feeling in his limbs that’s all that was on his mind.

He chuckled to himself as he shivered. Teeth chattering together painfully.

Perhaps this was a fitting end for a naive wolf boy. At least he wouldn’t have to suffer through his intrusive thoughts about that girl anymore.

-

“You are not going out in this storm.”

Jean crossed her arms as she stared down at one of the youngest members of the knights. To her dismay Amber had been taking the reports of Razor, the young boy around her age, having stayed in area for winter very, very, seriously.

“He wont survive this!” Amber half yelled at her superior as she clenched her fists to her side.

“And neither will you,” Jean argued back. Amber looked at the floor in defeat. If there was one trait Jean wasn’t, it was indecisive. Once she had her mind set on what she thought was the right decision it stayed there. Arguing her pryo talents would be useless against it. A pryo can still get lost in white out snow. And a pryo can still get tired and lose their flame.

“Look,” Jean sighed, “the knights appreciate your efforts to keep all of Mondstadt safe. But this boy isn’t even a resident of our city.”

Amber swallowed, looking back up at her boss with new determination. “I know, but he still needs help. I can still hear that wolf god telling him to go back with the humans. It might be why he didn’t follow his pack this year. Jean, we can't abandon someone that needs help! It's our job to help people!”

“I still cannot condone one of my knights risking her life. The boys been on his own since he was a child, I’m sure he will be fine.”

“Bu-"

Jean raised her hand, stopping the second emotional outpour.

“my decision is final.”

-

Clove and cinnamon. It sliced its way through the icy air and into Razors nose. Waking him from a cold dazed state.

He was up in seconds. Moving his freezing body to the cave entrance and staring out into the white haze in search of its owner.

Why would she be out in this?

“There you are!” the girl from his dreams popped into view. He looked down, more than he remembered he had too, and into her eyes

"You?” he mumbled. Unable to move his frozen lips.

Why did she seem so short? Did he get taller? Or maybe she got shorter?

“You’re freezing! Get inside,” she pushed him back into his cave. He gave little protest and walked back to his mound of straw to wait for his inevitable freezing to death.

She looked the same as before only with a long winter coat. And she seemed suspiciously shorter.

She unbuttoned her warm covering, revealing the outfit he remembered her in, and tossed it on him then placed her hand over the fire as he protested. The flames reached and licked her fingertips. Warming the room by another few degrees.

“You’re a…” he trailed off, burying his frozen limbs into her fur coat as best he could. It was much too small for his frame.

“A pyro,” she smiled, “so don’t worry about me, Amber will never have any problems keeping warm.”

He sighed; how did he not notice it when he met her before. He was so focused on that strange traveler and trying to ignore, who he now knew as Ambers, scent.

Maybe all vision users smell like her. Although the traveler could use anemo and didn’t smell like anything.

“Alright mister what are you doing out in the cold like this?”

He looked up at her from his straw bed. Starting at her face then making his way down to her hips where two small hands were planted firmly on either side.

He shrugged, Unsure how to answer with his limited vocabulary, and tried to burying himself deeper in her knee length coat as the warmth faded from it. It smelled like her he noted as the fur brushed against her nose.

“I’ve gotten reports from all around Mondstadt saying you stuck around after the first frost, don’t you normally stay with your pack?” she asked.

“No more pack,” he mumbled into the fur. Cursing at how fast the warmth was leaving it. She knelt down next to him, on the other half of his hay bed.

“Is it because of what that wolf god said?” she asked. Dropping her assertive tone.

He nodded as he stared into the fire. Amazed how it stood as if she was still manipulating it.

“Hey,” she reached a hand to his shoulder. He almost groaned from the contact but held it in.

She's so warm. Are pryo users always this warm? He had so many questions.

“You’re freezing! Why didn’t you say anything?”

The panic in her voice made him uneasy. He didn’t like it, not coming from her.

Her hands darted to his, catching him off guard. If he wasn’t so cold he would have been able to move from her grasp before she could reach him.

“We need to warm you up and get back to Mondstadt,” she told him as she warmed both his hands in her own.

“No,” he shook his head.

“I can't leave you here.”

“Go,” he lifted his arm, her hand still on his, and pointed to the cave door.

“The winter only gets worse from here Razor. I can't leave you in here. It's not safe. I’m a pryo and can't be out here for long”

“Not a city human,” he tried his best to explain.

“Well, I don’t particularly like city living either,” she laughed. The city was crowded and didn’t always smell the best if she was being honest.

He took both her hands in his, “Go,” he said before pushing them to her own body.

She stewed in that position for a moment. Her eyes glued to her hands.

“You know,” she said in a low voice, “I know it won't be the same, but maybe the knights can be your new pack?”

She looked at him now. Locking eyes with this strange intense burning that Razor couldn’t place.

Razor broke first. Looking away and into the fire.

“Well, I’m not leaving until you come with me.” She crossed her arms and readjusted herself. Leaning her back against the cave wall and lining her legs up with his.

He inspected his leg against hers. They looked slender and gentle in comparison. Then to her foot, miniature next to his own.

Girls seemed so… small now. Especially this one.

He guessed Amber was close to his own age when they met. Despite her odd scent she didn’t carry that musty older smell people seemed to start producing with age.

“How old are you?” he asked. Always one to speak his mind.

Amber tilted her head.

“Eighteen, well almost nineteen. Why?”

“You look small,” he told her. Maybe she needed to eat more? He should bring her food so she can grow more. Otherwise she may get hurt like the smaller wolves in his pack did.

He reached for his burlap sack and started to dig through it.

“I wouldn’t classify myself as small, maybe on the sorter sid-"

He shoved a stolen loaf of bread in her face. She eyed it suspiciously.

“where did you get this loaf of bread?”

“A cart.”

“Razor I know you are wild but as a knight I cannot condone stea-"

He shoved the bread into her mouth.

“Small wolves get hurt.”

She grabbed the bread from his hand and removed it from her mouth.

“Razor I’m not small! Guys are just… bigger… most of the time.”

He took in her words slowly thinking them over.

Wolves came in all sizes but it was never dictated by gender. At least in his pack.

“Most?” he asked. Curious and slightly worried for her.

“Well, there are exceptions but usually yes. Men grow bigger than women.”

“I don’t like that,” he grumbled, crossing his arms and leaning back against the cave wall. If men were larger than how would she have a chance at defending herself? The larger wolves always ran the show. Surely humans are no different?

He turned his head and sniffed. Inching closer with each intake until he was barley brushing her neck. Oblivious to her mouth popping open and closed in shock or her cheeks turning a scarlet red.

She pushed him back by his forehead before he could dip lower. He allowed her but left his head in her hand. Staring up at her with his piercing and slightly uncomfortable gaze.

She was not mated. That much he knew. She would be drenched in another scent besides her own.

The information intrigued him. He himself had never given much thought to having a mate. But this girl seemed very… desirable… to him.

“Y-you can't just go sniffing people!” she yelled at him. He sat up, his forehead leaving her hand.

He took a few moments before moving closer again. This time to her face. He wanted to inspect it. Maybe there was some reason she hadn’t been claimed.

She stopped him with both her hands this time. One on each side of his face, squishing his cheeks together.

“We need to go over some boundaries with you mister,” she said with a nervous laugh.

He narrowed his eyes. Not at her words, but his inspection. This girl seemed flawless.

But then again, he didn’t know how she compared to other girls. He just knew he liked something about her.

Odd.

If he stayed here in this cave... his life for the foreseeable future would be freezing cold and silence.

He could protect her. She could be his new pack. Just like she offered.

“I’ll go,” he told her.

She beamed at him, letting out a contagious smile. It made one form on his own constricted face. He liked seeing her happy, he decided.

“Really? That’s great lets go!”

-

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27098974/chapters/66171067

[poorrichardslegacy]

Kacxa Week 2020 Day 7 - Return to Braylar IV

SUMMARY: Keith and Acxa return to Braylar IV with their teenage daughters. It is the first time either of them has been back to the planet since their first visit as enemies 23 decaphoebs earlier.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26923546

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Acxa/Keith (Voltron) Characters: Acxa (Voltron), Keith (Voltron), Keith's Wolf (Voltron), Original Galran Character(s), Original Characters Additional Tags: Kacxa Week 2020, Family Secrets, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Pack Family, Wolf Pack, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon

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

Acxa looks around the clearing as Keith lands their ship on the surface of Braylar IV.

“Well, that was certainly a much smoother landing than the last time I was here.”

“Mom, any landing would be smoother than the one you made the last time you were here. You crash landed, remember?”

“Actually Cataleya, I try to forget that part of that trip.”

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

Disembarking from the ship, Keith sees four Cosmic Dire Wolves approaching. He and Acxa grin from ear to ear when they recognize the lead Wolf.

“Cosmo!”

The three rush forward to great one another. Standing over 8 feet tall at the shoulders, Cosmo bends down and allows Keith and Acxa to scratch him behind his ears.

“Oh, buddy. It’s so good to see you again! How have you been?”

“I am well, Keith. I assume all is well with you and Acxa? And the pups? Cataleya and Mireya? They are well?”

Acxa laughs. “The pups are fine, Cosmo. In fact, they’ve grown up since you last saw them.” She turns, looks behind her, and summons her daughters forward. “Girls, you remember, Cosmo? You were six the last time you saw him.”

“Mom, of course we remember Cosmo!” They rush forward to greet their former companion, who is just as happy to see them.

Keith sees a she-wolf with two pups standing behind Cosmo. He taps Cosmo on his shoulder. “Are you going to introduce us?”

“Of course. Keith, Acxa, Mireya, Catleya…this is my mate Corima, and our pups Tiguan and Merina.”

The Koganes bow in unison at the waist as they greet Cosmo’s family. “Corima, Tiguan, Merina…it is an honor to meet you.”

Corima and her pups bow in return. “The honor is ours, Black Paladin.”

“Black Paladin. That’s a title I haven’t been called in a long time.” Keith pauses and looks wistfully at Acxa. “A long time.” He turns back to Cosmo. “So, it’s been awhile since we’ve been here old friend. How is the pack?”

“The Sonai are well. About two decaphoebs ago, Father was severely injured fighting the Hyenas. They attacked a neighboring clan that was friendly to the Sonai, and he and I went to help them. Corima was a member of that clan. She helped me nurse him back to health and…well, here we are. I became alpha male of the Sonai when father and I returned.”

“Mother and Father are very eager to see you again. Shall we go to the compound?”

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

They enter the compound where the entire Sonai clan has gathered to meet them. As is their custom, the wolves bow out of respect for their visitors. Keith and his family return the courtesy, bowing in greeting as well.

Stepping forward out of the crowd with a noticeable limp is Soran. He is followed closely by Ashira, who keeps a watchful eye on her mate. Ashira looks well, but for Soran it is a different story. The decaphoebs have not been kind to the old Dire Wolf. Besides the limp, Soran is considerably grayer than he used to be.

Happy for the opportunity to see his friends again, Keith steps forward to greet them.

“Soran. Ashira. It is so good to see you again!”

“It is good to see you as well, old friend. I knew this day would come. I have been looking forward to seeing you again for a long time.”

“I’ve brought my family with me. I’d like to introduce them if I may.”

Soran looks past Keith and spies Acxa. He moves close to Keith and whispers to him. “So, you finally wised up and claimed her?”

Keith whispers back. “It’s more like she claimed me, but I’m not complaining.”

“It’s just as well, since you weren’t about to do it.”

Keith assumes an air of mock indignation. “And everyone asks me where Cosmo learned to be so snarky…like father like son.”

“Hey, I taught my son everything I know.”

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

Acxa shyly says hello to Soran, apologizing for her state the last time she was here. She gives Ashira a warm greeting as well, since Ashira and her sister saved Acxa’s life following her crash landing on Braylar IV.1

Ashira notices the girls. “Tell me Acxa, are these your pups?”

“Yes, they are. Girls, come here and say hello to Cosmo’s mother.” Acxa introduces the girls, who both render the respectful greeting Keith hammered home to them on the way here.

Soran turns to Keith. “So, she claimed you and you got busy. Well done!”

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

Keith sets up camp for his family in the cave that he and Acxa used for shelter 23 decaphoebs earlier. They are joined for dinner by Soran, Ashira, Cosmo, and his family. That night, around a campfire in the cave, Soran asks Keith’s daughters if their father told them of their parent’s first visit to Braylar IV.

“Do you know all that transpired in this very cave, young pups?”

“No sir, they mentioned they were here, but they never went into details.”

“Would you like to hear about it? How that rascal of a father of yours saved your mother’s life?”

“YES, PLEASE SIR!”

Acxa shoots Keith a panicked look. There is a part of this story she prefers not be told. Keith nods to his wife, then turns to Soran. “I don’t think that’s necessary. We don’t want to put you out.”

“Nonsense! These pups need to know about their parents before they were mated! It will help them understand who they sprung forth from.”

Soran turns to Acxa, a glint in his eye. “You’re not ashamed of anything I may tell them, are you?”

Acxa gives Soran a deadpan look straight in the eye. “Would it make a difference if I said yes?”

“Nope. I’m going to tell them anyway.”

Acxa sighs and looks to Keith. “That’s what I thought he would say.”

Soran proceeds to give the girls the full unabridged version of Keith and Acxa’s earlier visit to Braylar IV.2 3

Embellished and entirely from his perspective.

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

As Soran finishes his exaggerated story of Keith and Acxa’s first visit to Braylar IV, Mireya and Cataleya look at each other then turn to their mother with smirks on their faces.

“Mom…I gotta ask this…how in the name of all that is holy did you and Dad ever get together?”

“What do you mean, Cataleya?”

“Ok. This is what Soran just told us. You and Dad are enemies. You’re trying to kill each other. You fight Dad two planets from here, he cripples your fighter and breaks your arm, then he just flies away and leaves you. You crash land on this planet, you have to fight poisonous Hyenas, one of which poisons you, and you nearly die. All because Dad put you in this position. Not exactly good boyfriend behavior if you know what I mean.”

Keith, hurt by his daughter’s words, speaks up for himself. “In my defense, your mother jumped me at Braylar VI. I was just defending myself.”

Speaking of jumping on Keith, now it is Mireya’s turn to poke some good-natured fun at her father. “So, Dad, let me make sure I understand things from your point of view. You do all that to Mom, then you feel all guilty and decide to check on her. You got Mom naked while she was delirious with fever, yet you were a perfect gentleman and didn’t touch her…well…except for taking her bodysuit off…, you got your butt kicked by Narti and had to get the Sonai to help you beat her, and then you let Mom leave without saying goodbye? Wow, that doesn’t exactly sound like a romantic date to me. It sounds more like a date from hell. Mom, tell us again why you picked him?”

Seeing the hurt behind Keith’s eyes, Acxa reaches out, takes his hand, and whispers to him. “I’ve got this.” She pulls a recording device out of her pocket and turns to her girls. “You want to know why I picked your father as my life partner? This is why.”

Keith goes wide-eyed upon seeing the device. “You still have that thing?”

“Of course, I do, love. And it still plays like it did the day I found it.”

“Mom, what is it?”

“This? Oh, your father slipped this this little gem into my bag before he and Narti loaded me into the shuttle to return to Lotor’s cruiser. I think it’s worth listening to. You girls put an interesting forensic slant on what happened here, but there’s more to the story than what you just heard. You’re missing the nuances and you don’t really know what happened from your father’s perspective. This recording will put Soran’s story in a whole new light. It opened my eyes when I first heard it, so many decaphoebs ago.”

As the girls gather around their mother, Acxa starts the playback on the recording Keith made so many years ago.

“Hey, Acxa, it’s me, Keith. The Black Paladin. The guy you probably want to tear up into a million small pieces right about now. Yeah. But before you do that, let me explain a few things.”

“Wow, Dad, you look so young there. And hunky. I see why Mom fell for you…”

“Wait…Hunky? What does that…”

“SHHH! Dad! We want to hear this!”

“You might or might not remember the first fight against the Hyenas. I came down to help you because…I needed to...it was the right thing to do. One of them got close to you and slashed your right leg. You were injured pretty badly, lost a lot of blood.”

Pausing the recording, Acxa tells the girls about the onset of the symptoms of the Hyena poisoning. The big needle Keith used to inject the medicine that slowed the poison. How he asked for permission to remove her armor to treat her leg. And, how he treated Ashira, who was also poisoned by the Hyenas.4

She hits the play button again.

“I was also the one who called for Narti to come get you. I’d gone to your fighter to figure out your communication protocols, and I happened to see her on radar. I called, she came down, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“I wanted to tell you all of this to your face, but…you were pretty loopy. You had no idea where you were or who you were talking to you. I don’t kill helpless enemies. But I know, technically, we are enemies. The next time we meet, if you come after me again like you did the last time, I will use deadly force if necessary, to defend myself.”

“I’d prefer not to do that. I had no desire to fight you at Braylar VI, because of our shared experience in the Weblum. I have no desire to fight you now. Not after what we just went through together.”

Mireya reaches in and hits the pause button on the playback device. “Wait…you two met on a Weblum?”

“No dear. Inside a Weblum.”

“WHAT?”

“The second stomach if you want to be precise. That’s another story.”

“Yeah, one that you two are going to tell us on the way back to Diabazaal! Then we want to hear the Androse Campfire story!”

Acxa prepares to restart the tape. “Pay attention girls, this is the important part.”

“I apologize for saying you lack honor. Narti told me about you. I believe what she said is true, and I was wrong to say what I said to you.”

“I also apologize for the pilot taunt. Turns out you’re just as good a pilot as I am. If not better. The skill it took to fly that fighter to Braylar IV with a broken arm and walk away from a crash landing is amazing.”

“Finally, I apologize for removing your body suit without your permission. I know you’ll figure it out sooner or later, so it’s best I admit it now. I mean nothing happened…it’s not like I haven’t seen…well…ok it was the first time I’ve seen…but it was purely clinical. Yeah, that’s it. I mean you were sweating…perspiring…uh…your body suit was saturated. You would have gotten a lot sicker if I left you in it. I did it for your own good. I hope you believe that. Please don’t kill me for it.”

“Wow, Dad…you were quite the smooth talker there…”

“Aww, he was really embarrassed Mireya…I think it’s cute…he tried.”

Acxa smiles and blushes at the memory, and at the sight of a clearly embarrassed and flustered Keith on the video. ��Yes he did.”

“In another place and another time, I like to think we could be friends. We seem to have a lot in common. Also, if you ever have a change of heart and want to join the Coalition, you can do so any time. I would welcome you as a comrade in arms. And…as a friend. I hope someday we have a chance to talk when we aren’t pointing weapons at each other. In a selfish way it would be good to talk to you about what it means to be a half Galra.”

“Good luck and be safe, Acxa.”

Acxa carefully stows the recording device and faces her daughters.

“So, you see…your father did say goodbye. All kidding aside girls, after hearing that tape I began to realize that I had feelings for the man who would someday become your father.”

She takes Keith’s hand and looks him in the eye. “He told me decaphoebs later, the first time he said he loved me, that the message on this device was his way of telling me he was interested in me.”

She turns back to her daughters. “But he didn’t have to tell me that. I knew, just by listening to this recording. It only took us just over four decaphoebs to finally get together after we were here. Too long, in my opinion. But…we did it.”

“Thanks for sharing that recording, Mom. And for telling us how you fell for Dad.”

Mireya sheepishly turns to her father. “Dad…I’m sorry for needling you about what you did when you and Mom were here the first time. What you did was sweet. I see why Mom fell in love with you.”

Soran can’t resist on final parting shot at Keith.

“Good, then perhaps you can enlighten me. Because I still don’t see it.”

Keith turns to Ashira, a deadpan look on his face. “Ashira, would you smack him for me?”

Ashira give Soran a sharp whack across the top of his head with her paw.

“Ow!” The surprised wolf turns to Keith. “Why did you ask her to do that?”

Keith laughs. “That my old friend was a love tap to say how much I missed you and your snark. You’re just too tall for me to reach your head myself.”

“Well, if that was supposed to be a love tap, any chance you could let Ashira know the next time you decide to do that? She just about killed me!”

Ashira gives Soran a stern look. “Don’t be so dramatic, you old coot. If I wanted to hurt you, trust me you’d know.”

As the group shares a good-natured laugh, the Kogane girls turn to one another.

“You know, Mireya, this is turning out to be a pretty cool trip after all.”

  1 Return of the Prince, Chapter 11, Cry of the Wolf

2 Return of the Prince, Chapter 11 Cry of the Wolf

3 Return of the Prince, Chapter 12 Riders on the Storm

4 Return of the Prince, Chapter 11, Cry of the Wolf

[memnonofarcadia]

Remembering Joey Bruno

Originally published in the Sacramento Jazz & Blues Quarterly Bedtime is sometime around dawn. Dinner is usually whatever you want it to be. Shall we go to Iceland? Festivals, fliers, wristbands, Sharpies on skin, smoke, grass, hash, molasses, sky, blue, crisp, clear sky. And yet I’m still writing all this within a grey airport terminal, locked into some kind of strange Druid-esque ritual with pen and paper. Deadline is tomorrow, where were you when you were supposed to be working? Don’t have any answers for now, just that I need to write and get it out to my boss within the next day. Or two. It wouldn’t have been the first deadline blown. But think, distract myself with the McDonald’s coffee and keep putting down adjectives and phrases from places I’ve been, things I’d seen, dreams I’d never have again with people I’ve never met and music I had. 40 minutes till boarding starts, I’ll be last, of course. It pays enough to fly but not enough to enjoy it. Been getting harder and harder to deal with the travel, at any rate. Starting to notice the spell everyone is under, the sleepwalking nature of the corporate employee. It had only been noticeable after it had been broken, which I had no problem doing, ever. When your home is a hotel you take your shots however you can get them, besides it wasn’t like you have to live in any particular town past a few days at most. Half-heartedly started keeping a list of rejections and their professions, making sure to note that there was only one waitress on the list, most were from bookstores or places where there was an escape for all parties. Don’t need to make it more awkward than it has to be. Sorry, I didn’t mean, then the words fade off into the ocean. On the edge of nowhere, like a little seaside town. Maybe that’s where I’d like to end up, like a lifeguard in the post-apocalypse, no responsibilities, just looking cool for the seagulls. How many life guards had I asked out? Not many, either way. Concerts didn’t go well with water, not in my experience. Can’t seem to find a way to write about anything other than something on the present times, life and times. I struggle, already flipped through the notebooks to jog the memory with some tit and tat that had to be discarded for the sake of length from another article. Or two. Or four. Or 12. Throwing yourself to the wolves, towards and into the meat grinder that one might just pay the bills with the right amount of ink in the right places on a blank piece of paper. Who cares about music festivals and pop culture when there’s McDonald’s coffee and the cold inside of an airplane to look forward to? Four times I’d attempted to ask about an airline attendant’s relationship status, thrice I’d been rejected. Once she’d pretended not to hear me and instead moved to the opposite end of the plane for the remainder or the flight. Understandable, no harm done. No harm done. By anyone, right? Who said this was ever going to be a love story, you and I?

College had been a breeze, not that I’m bragging. State schools were like that, at least then, and Californ-I-A’s were no different. No doubt now there’s better options available for where I was at when I had to decide where to go to school, but there you are. A degree in journalism is a degree in journalism, and I had little else to go on other than my love of music, substances, travel, female company, and a shocking talent at being able to string together sentences. In a way it’s always given me a bit of a guilty feeling. I never sat down and really worked at learning or improving with regards to writing, I just sort of could do it. That’s the short version of how I found my niche of a career, one I thought I could exploit anyway. Turns out I was right, and in a way it was everything I could (and did!) hope for. Except everybody’s got to grow up sometimes, and I did, regrettably. There’s only so many hungover mornings a human being can take before they’re permanently reduced to a shambling, sickly mess of what used to be a humanoid organism, and I had certainly put myself on that path. Got off of it, thanks to the countless AA meetings I made myself go to, but I digress. That had been the first mark on the wall of things that I could no longer enjoy about the gig, the fact that now I had to do the whole thing sober. The hardest substance I have confidence I can enjoy responsibly now is coffee, and even then the ugly demon of acid reflux put me back in my place before too long. Suddenly all the kids were much more annoying than usual, the travel a hassle, the food revolting, and the music itself just kind of bad, which was the real heartbreaker. Some days before it had been all to keep me going, minus the women, which were always a constant. “Festival sluts” is the term you’ll want to Google (or DuckDuckGo) if you’re curious about what I mean, also colloquially known as upper middle class girls whose parents were too busy working to devote anything past a friendly “hullo” to their children, and thus succeeded in raising a bunch of hedonistic, attention-desperate, and morally naïve young people with excess income and too much time to spend it all in. Nasty ain’t it? But it kept me coming back for more, like the good-natured animal that I am. We all are. That’s the secret that I learned more than anything from the beat, we are all more simple and pleasure driven than we could ever articulate or realize. It’s what keeps the lights on at home, for everything and anything. Probably. Or maybe I’m just bitter. Most of the friends I made during college or were colleagues in my escapades writing about indie rock et al. around the globe are gone now. Burnt out, some burnt up, most just couldn’t hack it anymore and left to go get real jobs at real newspapers. The circus, or pirate ship, as is probably more accurate a nomer, is not for everyone, and rarely does it last forever. Bet you’re wondering where that leaves me. Still bitter, but still coming back for more, just like I was always going to. Always. So why don’t I quit? You tell me. Because I know why.

The finest writer I ever met was a journalist by the name of Joey Bruno, a guy I came across one of the many late nights I spent at the pathetic office of my college’s newspaper. I was editing a freshman’s piece about how the White Album was actually really bad, sighing uncontrollably the whole time, when Mr. Bruno walked in and struck up a conversation with yours truly. I happily engaged, as any activity that didn’t involve that stupid piece of writing was fine by me. He explained that he was friends with the real Editor , who was at his parents’ in Wisconsin for the weekend, and would drop by periodically when he got off work to help out where he could. “Why spend your time working on bad writing by dumb college kids?” I’d asked him. “Free beer, plus it can be fun sometimes. There’s been plenty of stuff come through here that I rewrote beyond all recognition just for fun, and nine times out of ten the original author doesn’t even notice. Good times.” Maybe so, I’d thought. In any case every other Friday or thereabouts I’d get a late night revising buddy to help cull the newspaper’s intimidating stack of submissions. It was in those early morning hours that I came to the conclusion that I wanted to become a music journalist, mostly from talking to Mr. Bruno about his own adventures. But I don’t think I listened, not really. Maybe if I had I’d be off this conveyor belt by now, but then again maybe not. Maybe I’d never have started. One night in particular while we were enjoying our cigarettes, coffee, and beer (all courtesy of the newspaper of course), he retailed me with a story of his long lost love, a girl he’d known briefly in the California punk scene of the late 80s. I was instantly entranced. “It was a magical time,” he’d said to me while stroking his magnificent beard. “But I’m glad it’s over now. It was getting messy there at the end,” I brought up how those little parts of the world, at that time were being romanticized an awful lot in contemporary media then. “And for good reason, too.” He’d responded wistfully. “A lot of great things happened for a lot of good people. It was about as close to the 60s as anyone came since then, I think. That much hope,” And this is where he began to tell his story, the story of “the rebel known as ‘Justine,’” as he’d put it. However it had happened, the two had come into contact through the various zines they’d each produced and sent out to the other punks in town. The closest thing to an internet forum for back then was to just be louder than everyone else, apparently. That was the only real way to get heard, to start a dialogue of some kind. That or take your chances at the shows, which they did anyway, but there wasn’t much talking going on there. Joey had written to Justine complimenting her on “Pop!,” which was her way of pushing her radical politics and militant-feminist views out on to the unsuspecting public behind the thin-façade of a bubblegum periodical. The art had been good, and the writing made everyone Joe showed it to laugh out loud, so he made a point to let the author know, whoever they were. There was an address included in the back for people to write in, so he did just that. He also included a copy of his own creation, the somewhat popular (in those circles anyway) “Buzz ‘n’ Stuff.” “What was it about?” I asked as my friend rolled himself another cigarette. “Nothing really, I just sort of made stuff about interesting things I found at the library then slapped it together in that. It seemed to work. I remember the one I sent her had something about how to get popped bubblegum out of your hair without cutting it all off, so I think that’s what got her interested. There wasn’t anything of value or substance in there, let’s be real,” Joey took another swig of his beer and reached into the cooler below his desk for another, being sure to throw me one too like a sport. “Thanks, boss. But continue, you got me interested now,” So he did. It had started slowly, really, with the trading of zines and letters, the occasional patch or pin by mail too. Eventually after a lengthy correspondence they made a plan to meet up at a concert, The Vandals to be precise. Joey had taken painstaking measures to show up in the most hip clothing of the day, studded leather jacket, combat boots, the whole nine yards. “I looked like a freak,” he told me with a chuckle. “But then I saw her,” Justine had arrived looking like everything and nothing Joey had expected her to. She had the familiar punk gear, Doc Martins and an army jacket covered in patches and safety pins, but the rest of what she had on departed from the norm drastically. It had been some bizarre cross between a punk, hippy, and cult leader all in one, macabre golden jewelry offsetting the “meat is murder” t shirt underneath. “It was great,” said Joey. “People were afraid of her at that show. She looked really scary,” They hit it off and had a jolly old time watching The Vandals play, and later they found themselves alone on a hill overlooking the suburbs, talking about the issues and passing a joint back and forth. It was all music to my ears, as it would be for most any young person, I suspect. “Tell me more,” I’d implored. These were fantasies that I needed fulfilled. Joey paused and rocked back and forth in his chair contently for a few seconds before he complied. My heart sank before he spoke. “We were inseparable after that first time. It really was something. We could go anywhere, do anything, and we would always end up on the same page somehow. It was easily the deepest spiritual, emotional, whatever you want to call it connection I’ve ever had with another human being, let alone girlfriend. But then a year or two later her Mom moved her and her brother up to Connecticut to be closer to the rest of their family. Last I heard she went to school in Maine, but that was it as far as we were concerned. Finito,” He smiled through all this as though recalling some rosy-cheeked memory but I was aghast. “What do you mean that’s it? You didn’t try to follow her or anything?” Joey just laughed. “Yeah, that was really an option at 17 without a car or money. It was just something that happened when we were kids, nothing really. I’m glad it happened at all, now.” Well then. What do you make of that? The conversation drifted pretty heavily after that point, as it always did when Joey and I got to jabbering and drinking, and as usual it was stories of the times he’d been on tour years later with Ozzy Osbourne or The Stooges or someone, then got to interview them endlessly and write about it. The usual vices were there as well in his stories, the drugs, the travel, the women, the glamor, the romance. But it all left pretty quickly once the novelty wore off, hence why Joey had quit after a few years and moved back home to Sacramento. When I knew him at the college newspaper he was a jazz correspondent, if you can wrap your head around that, for several of the snootier publications in the area. “I skipped to the fun part,” he told me. “The shows never get old, now. Plus jazz cats have the best shit,” he said with a wink. I probably just laughed, I don’t know, maybe downed the rest of my beer. I’ll be bound to have another once I get on the plane, off to Finland this time. Apparently it’s festival season in Scandinavia and its surrounding territories. Guess I’ll be writing about that all then though, from a different airport terminal that looks just like this one, with coffee and food and cigarettes and beer that shortens the life as much as the ones that came before. I could go on, but I won’t, for both our sake. There’s no moral to be gleaned from all this just a simple explanation of the reality, and how I’m passing the time in the airport by writing this, because I said I would. I promised. It’s my group now, and I have to go.

[imababblekat]

Imagine Rung/Megatron Finding Out Their S/O Is A Dragon When Saving Them From The DJD

~

Rung:

"Tarn, please, don't involve them.", Rung pleaded, optics tearing up behind his glasses.

Before him, the leader of DJD stood rigid, grip tight with you in his clenched servo. You bit back a pained groan when Tarn swished you about like a rag doll, blood being throw from your bitten and torn leg thanks to the Pet and his way of retrieving you from your hiding place.

"Last chance, psychiatrist. Megatrons files and we'll be on our way.", Tarn leered down at him.

"Don't Ru-aagh!", you yelped, being cut off by a painful squeeze.

Rung was never going to give Tarn his patients files, it went against every fiber of his being, but seeing the way your face scrunched up in pain made it really hard not to. It wouldn't have even mattered in the end, he knew Tarn and his crew of murderous psychopaths wouldn't let either of you go if he did give him Megatrons files. He'd at least hope though that if he had, they would spare you with a quick-

"AAAGH!!!"

"Rung!!"

The orange bots upper half fell forward in his trapped seat that was actually Kaon, huffing and spitting out bleeding energon from the his captors electric shock. He looked up to see you hitting Tarn's fist with all you had, the latter ignoring your pitiful attempts of escape and to cause harm in favor of capturing Rung's gaze as it peered out behind his falling glasses.

"The files.", the tyrant said once more, his voice low and making Rung feel as though a vice was clenching down on his spark.

Mustering up what energy he had left, the psychiatrist grit his denta, optics glaring harshly now that his glasses had fallen completely off, and in a tone that even surprised him, told Tarn off.

"Go frag yourself, Tarn."

The DJD leaders optics widened behind his obscuring mask. This small Autobot sure didn't seem to have it in him, but there was no missing the cold, venomous spite dripping from not only his words but also his very own glare alone. Tarn would be lying if he said he wasn't just a little impressed. However, it didn't matter, because all that strength and bravado only caused him to let out a small, hearty laugh.

"You amuse me Autobot, but. . ."

Tarn nudged his helm back to Helex who quickly open his built in incinerator.

"I grew bored of you a long time ago.", Tarn finished with a drop in his tone.

Before Rung or even you had registered it, Tarn had thrown you back into Helex chamber, the glass door shutting tight and cutting off your terrified scream. The chamber lit with fire, covering any view of you the Lost Light psychiatrist once had, and he lurched forward only to be sent another painful shock from Kaon to stop him from calling out your name. Tarn turned on heel, walking past his closing in team members like a pack of wolves as he pulled out his communicator.

"Eyebrows made his decision not to give us Megatrons files the moment we strapped him down; we've wasted time. Do what you want with them, I'm going to call Nickel and-"

Tarn didn't get to finish, as he had been quickly interrupted by Helex screaming. He turned around fast to see the round mech fall to his knees, his friends staring at him in just as much confusion as their leader, only to suddenly have Helex throw his chamber open and a large fireball to come shooting out. Before it's path was Kaon and Rung, but the Con had only time to transformer back to bi pedal mode before being slammed and engulfed by raging flames and smoke.

The DJD grouped up before the plume of ash and smokey clouds which glowed bright red and orange, weapons at the ready and all on edge. Tarn narrowed his optics to try and make sense of what was happening within the dense cloud, when he heard another pitiful scream and sickening crunch. When it had all finally dispersed, he knew what those sounds had come from. Before him and his team stood a terrifying beast, one of hardened scales and pure muscle. Thorn like spikes poked out along parts of their armored body, and two giant, sharply pointed horns curled out from the top of their head. Two pairs of powerful wings spread out from their back, making them look bigger and more menacing. Finally, they had razor sharp eyes, slits for pupils that screamed death, smoke flowing out from their nostrils and from their mouth, the later of which was filled to the brim with insanely dangerous looking rows of teeth, some of which were piercing straight through the DJD member Kaon.

Staring straight into his spark, this creature, a dragon, tossed Kaon's half dead body at Tarns pedes. Never once did he take his optics off the creature, but from the wet feeling that began to seep the soil at his feet, Tarn didn't have to look down to see the damage his teammate was in. His guns lit, ready to fire along with those still standing, but before he could give the command, the deathly monster spoke.

"Leave.", their voice rang out like thunder and courses of other voices all together; the energon from Kaon dripping out and splattering the ground.

The two stared at one another, snake like eyes holding that of Decepticon optics, before eventually it was Tarn who lowered his stance. He was a strong, and terrifying enemy to have, and while typically one up for a good fight, he could tell this was not a foe he'd want to face, or at least today with half his team down. Saying nothing he waved to Vos and Tesuarus, the later helping up a very drained and in pain Helex to his pedes. Picking up the limp, but still barely alive Kaon, Tarn looked to the dragon once more, who of which never took their threatening gaze off him, before he finally turned to take leave.

Once the group was finally gone, and the dragon felt they were no longer in danger, they uncurled their large tail to reveal the small Autobot who had not even scratch from their monstrous display. Rung groaned, turning his helm over with flickering optics. Through what he could see of the blur above him, all he could register was the last sight of his human significant other, and their cruel death, and the feeling of immense sorrow envelope his core before he laid his helm down once more.

"(y,n), (y,n). . .", he whimpered out in a choked sob before falling into stasis.

"It's okay Rung. It's going to be okay.", you, the fiery beast who's entire body covered his protectively, whispered into his audials.

Megatron:

"Let them go Tarn.", Megatron ordered in such a calm tone compared to the way he'd give orders when the DJD member knew him at his “best".

Tarn's denta gritted, his grip on you becoming tighter as you gasp for air. The flicker of panic in the ex Warlords optics give his spark a tinge of happiness, but it was not enough. The fact that Megatron, the Megatron, a leader who Tarn had followed and devoted his life to, was not only trying to stop him from squishing any organic, but an organic that happened to be the grey mech's significant other. It made Tarn sick to his core, and he had to hold back from squishing you right then and there.

"What happened Megatron? I remember a time when we'd erratic planets filled with these disgusting things.", Tarn spoke, talking and moving you about like you were nothing more than object; a pest.

"Yes, but that time is behind us now and I've changed.", Megatron replied, taking a step forward only to step back when the other members raised their weapons with a click.

It wasn't so much a concern for his safety, but yours. Megatron could easily take all of them down, but with you at risk, he'd have to be more careful about his actions.

"Oh, trust me, I know.", Tarn glared at the Autobot badge that decorated Megatrons armor.

Megatron glanced down at the badge for a second before bringing his gaze back up to Tarn. When the later had commed the Lost Light, he'd expected they wanted him as well as any other Decepticon turned Autobot on the ship. While just outside the ships bridge, and in the midst of comforting Drift, he'd suddenly heard Rodimus go off in a flurry of curses. Ultra Magnus had been the one to come rushing out the bridges doors to retrieve him, and what Megatron saw on screen made him feel both instant regret and furious anger. He knew he should have joined you when you and a group of your other mechanical friends went to the planet below the Lost Light for some fun. If he had, he wouldn't have been staring at your terrified face on screen in the hold of the DJD, and he wouldn't be here now, by himself as requested and staring at you in the grip of Tarn's servos.

"Tell me this all just some plan of yours.", Tarn began, his voice desperate and hopeful. "Tell me that you're just trying to get close, get the Autobot's guard down so you can attack them at their weakest. Tell me Megatron! Tell me this is all just some elaborate plan of yours!"

Tarn felt his spark drop when the later shook his helm. With furrowed optic ridges Megatron spoke with a low, but sincere voice.

"The war is over, Tarn. No more fighting."

"But what about all those years. All of those years spent following your orders and the cause?"

Megatron frowned, wanting to look down but kept himself from doing so. Another regret of his; taking the lives in not the sense of killing, but wasting it.

"Make new ones. You have time now; you're life is yours now."

Tarn felt his frame shake with bitter rage. Nothing he said or could do would bring Megatron back to who he was, to who the DJD leader thought he rightfully was, that much was clear.

"Enough.", Tarn's voice dropped, Megs optics twitching at the tightness around his spark.

Tossing you to the ground, a horrifying cracking sound resided and Megatron felt his body run cold when yours stopped moving. There wasn't enough time for him to take in all that just happened, because before he knew it he had been knocked back by the heavy punch of Tarn's fist. The DJD members behind him grabbed hold, and threw Megatron to the ground, using all their might to keep him there. The ex warlord was ready to throw them off, but any strength he had was quickly depleted at the sound of Tarn's lowering voice by his helm.

"You were great Megatron. Now look at you, feeling sorrow over an organic.", Tarn spat, taking in the sight of Megatrons fizzing optics and dangerous glow emitting from his spark chamber.

"It's such a shame you won't be here to see me continue the Decepticon cause. First, starting with the eradication of orga-"

"AAAGH!!!"

Tarn quickly looked up and in the direction of everyone else's alerted attention to see Vos suddenly engulfed in a spur of flames. Distracted by the frighting display, Tarn didn't see Megatron quickly regain his strength till it was to late and he was quickly punched back in the gut. Hitting the ground with a thud he gave out the order and his team began firing at Megatron. Feeling the sharp pains of being hit, Megatron waited for more once he fell back to the ground, only to suddenly feel nothing. Looking up and around him he had been shielded by a pair of large. . .wings?! A loud roar erupted, easily silencing the sound of gun fire, and just like him, Megatron was sure the other mech's were covering their audials in pain as well. When it stopped and the wings retracted, Megatron was finally able to take in the sight of what the DJD had.

A monstrous beast surrounded him, making him appear the size of a minibot, it's body covered in scales blacker than night, and some parts rigid with thorny spikes that no one would dare to be caught by. Being as close he was, Megatron didn't need to lay a servo on them to know how strong and built their body was; they could easily break a bolder with just their hands if they wanted to. Speaking of which, they had talons that tore into the earth, and on the right hand Megs could see the glowing liquid that was someones energon. Optics following their long body, he took note of the four wings on their back, the things that had shielded him from a shower of bullets and not even looking scratched. His widened gaze soon came to the dragons head, their sharp, slit eyes focused on the startled and some petrified DJD crew, but even though it was not on him, even he had a chill run of up his spinal strut. Finally, the mouth of the horrid beast was left for him to view. Rows upon rows of teeth sharp enough to pierce the hardest metal aligned it, dripping with saliva and energon, and fumming from that horrifying maw were the flickers of reddened flames just waiting to be fired out in a display of mass destruction.

After taking in the horrifying beast, Megatron took a step back but felt something strange. He didn't feel the sense of danger, that sixth sense that was always at the nape of his neck, instead he felt something strangely safe, and even stranger, something familiar coming from this dragon. Expression no loner one of shock or surprise, Megatron turned to face the DJD, his gaze landing on Tarns. Looking away from the piercing glare of the beast, Tarn felt his spark stop when his optics were captured by Megatron. That look; that look of pure terror and death flooded his processor with memories of the past. With a beast so menacing curled behind him, ready for the moment to unleash an unimaginable peril, and an aura that screamed for any foe to run, Tarn could only stare with wide optics at the mech who gave him those feelings. This was the Megatron he knew.

Quickly jumping to his pedes, he ordered Kaon to grab the charred Vos and ran back to the Peaceful Tyranny with his beaten and bleeding teammates. Megatron alone was a fight not easily won, but with the dragon behind him, Tarn got the same spark stopping fear from them as he would from the ex warlord.

Once assured that they were no longer a threat, Megatron continued to stare at the horizon the DJD had retreated over, a beautiful sunset taking over the tense and dark situation he had been in. With the pink and orange hued sky reflecting in his optics, Megatron didn't need to look over to know what the sudden breeze beside him came from.

"Why didn't you tell me?", he murmured, tone low but with a hint of softness.

You stared at the painted sky as well, hand hesitantly reaching out to rest against Meg's metal leg, but the later not once stepping away or making any notion that he didn't want your soft touch.

"You're not the only one with a past."

~xXx~

[serpounce-moved]

I wrote this for the deputy I ship with John, I’m not sure if I’m going to keep this in their canon but I read through it again and wanted to post it! No warnings, I don’t think. 2003 words, some fluff.

——–

Pain was the only thing that came to Erin’s senses as she became aware of where she was. Her entire body felt like it was on fire and for a brief moment, Erin wondered if Sharky’s homemade flamethrower had finally blown up. This isn’t how I want to die… Erin thought. She cried out in pain as she tried to sit up, and become aware of hands on her shoulders, followed by a soft voice.

“No, don’t get up, my love.” It was John’s voice that spoke to her. Erin forced her eyes to open. The first thing she saw was John’s face, his expression twisted in concern and his eyes red and puffy. Had he been crying? Erin found it hard to believe that John Seed would be crying over her. She didn’t even think he cried when she put an end to their casual hooking up. “Can you hear me? Don’t talk, just squeeze my hand.”

It was then John slipped his hand into Erin’s, his fingers finding their home intertwined with hers so easily. Erin gave a faint smile as she felt the warmth of his hand. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed him touching her. Her mind focused on his hand, on the memory of the first time she told John how much she had loved his hands, while they were having sex at his ranch for the first time. He had smirked at her and looked at his hands, eyes scanning the myriad of tattoos he had gotten over the years, and proceeded to wrap his left hand around her throat. Well, that had taught Erin something about herself and her bedroom preferences that surprised both John and Erin alike.

“Erin…squeeze my hand if you can hear me.” John repeated. His voice was more frantic this time, but Erin could tell he was still trying to stay calm. She knew all too well the change in his tone when he was about to lose it, both in anger and in worry.

Erin. It sounded so foreign coming from his lips now, after weeks of being addressed as “deputy”. Erin had always shot Nick a glare when he’d mock the way John said it. Dep-yoo-tee. Erin knew Nick did it because he was privy to the relationship that Erin had with John; he did it to get under her skin about it, and she had let him even though her heart skipped a beat every time John had called her over the radio. She tried so hard to make it seem like she was over John, that she had regretted her past with him.

She squeezed John’s hand and John smiled, squeezing hers in return. Not too hard; he didn’t want to hurt her. He wasn’t entirely sure the extent of her injuries. He had called for his brothers to meet him in the clearing where Erin had fallen to, and for Faith to join them, bringing something to help Erin with the pain. He knew that most likely meant some of the lesser strain of the Bliss, but that was fine with John; he didn’t want Erin to take a trip, he just needed something to help her take the edge off of the pain.

“Wh…what happened?” Erin managed to choke out. Bits and pieces were starting to come together the more she started to wake up, but the pain she was in still clouded most of her memories. She remembered getting a radio call from John on their private channel about a plan he needed to put into place and that it was imperative that she trust him. Then, half an hour later, she received a call from him on the public channel that she needed to get to Fall’s End to talk things over with him. She remembered Sharky was watching her down on the ground, and she took Nick with her, both of them in separate planes, to fight John.

To fight John?

“John…” Erin sat up, way too quickly, and felt like she was going to be sick. Her head was spinning and she could smell the sickly copper smell of blood. It was then, eyes fully open and her mind clearing a bit more, that she realized John’s head was bleeding. She reached out to touch the wound but John grasped her wrist to hold her steady.

“I need to lay you back down, just until the others arrive.” John said as he gently laid her back down onto the ground. It was then she realized John was without his jacket. She was laying on top of it; the cool leather felt nice against Erin’s hot skin.

“Like that night we fucked by the river…” Erin said, an amused smirk on her face as she thought about the memory. John knitted his brows in confusion.

“What do you mean?” He asked her.

“Your jacket under me, like that time by the river.”

John smirked now, almost forgetting about that time. He didn’t know how he could, with her constant threat of I swear if Sharky or any of your Peggie friends find us here doing this…

“I shot your plane down,” John began after clearing his throat. Now was not the time to get lost in his memories of Erin. He needed to keep talking to her, keep her awake and alive so that he could make more memories with her.

“I’m so sorry my love, but I had to. It was the only way to get you away from the Resistance without me losing my life. It was controlled, you were supposed to be safe. This wasn’t supposed to happen…”

He had been able to get his plane to a lower altitude, and Erin was supposed to follow, but he could hear Nick over the radio yelling at her to “not fall for John’s tricks”, and Erin had a hard time getting her plane lowered. When she finally did, John took the chance to shoot her down. She ejected and was supposed to land in a field not far from the Seed Ranch so that, once John had found her, they wouldn’t have far to travel. But, as Erin’s luck would have it, the winds changed and she was sent going into a forest. By the time she fell to the ground, she was in a clearing, but it was still further than John had wanted her to be away from his home.

John looked up at the growling of wolves and prayed that they were Jacob’s judges. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw flashes of white fur running through the trees, and Jacob’s large form came behind them, into the clearing, a backpack hanging from his right hand.

“Brought the shit for her,” Jacob said as he tossed the backpack in John’s direction. Erin grunted as it landed on her left calf.

“Hurts…” Erin whimpered. John shushed her and began to quickly empty the backpack of its contents. He opened a canteen that Jacob had packed and gently lifted Erin’s head up, holding his hand at the base of her neck, and helped her drink. She choked on it; Jacob couldn’t help but smirk and laugh. It wasn’t funny, not really. He hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting Erin in his region and even before the Reaping began, he hadn’t spent a lot of time around her. The lovesick way his brother would look at her made Jacob roll his eyes and mumble under his breath and Joseph had to suggest, more than once and a little forcefully, that perhaps Jacob should not be giving his brother a hard time. After all, Joseph would say, she is important to John and therefore she will be important to the Project once we bring her into our family. At the time John and Erin hadn’t realized just how important they were to each other. They were still casually sleeping together. Joseph had seemed to push his dislike of John’s sin of Lust out of his mind for the time being. Even before the failed arrest, Joseph was obsessed with the idea of Erin reaching Atonement. At first, it was a fascination with her because of John’s apparent feelings towards her. After the Reaping had begun, Joseph needed John to bring her to Atonement so she would be saved. The Voice had told him to make sure she was saved.

–

Erin wasn’t sure when she had blacked out. The next time she opened her eyes, she was at John’s home, in his bed. She knew it from the wide windows that his bed had a view to. She used to love the nights they’d go to his house; looking out at the surrounding mountains while he made love to her gave her a sense of calmness and peace that she found hard to find once she had joined the police force. But this time, being in John’s bed was not a pleasurable experience.

“Don’t try to move,” John said. Erin turned her head to look at him. “Do you need more pillows? I can get you more, but you need to lie down and rest.”

Erin smiled and shook her head as she reached for John’s hand. She squeezed it as tightly as she could.

“Am I free?” She asked, knowing it was a loaded question. She didn’t feel free with the Resistance; she knew she couldn’t have just walked away, and she had to answer to the others in the county for her actions and missteps. She also knew she wouldn’t be free with the Seeds. She wasn’t sure if she’d be given a job or not, or even how much Joseph would trust that her change in allegiances were true. But she would be with John and if the past few months had taught her anything, she wanted that no matter the cost.

John smiled softly at her. He brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss against the back of her hand before turning it over and kissing her palm.

“You are free from those sinners, yes.” John said. His eyes swept over her body, covered in just a thin blanket and she was dressed in nothing but one of the large t-shirts John had bought for her when she started spending the night at his house during their hook-ups. “And because of your sins, and your time spent with those in the Resistance, Joseph would like you to be baptized as soon as possible.”

“The first baptism wasn’t enough?” She asked with a teasing smile, the best her body could produce for the time being. If she was being honest with herself, she was scared. She didn’t want to be drugged and forced under the water again. She wondered if the Bliss was necessary or if she could go through the baptism without it.

John chuckled and shook his head, pressing another kiss to the palm of her hand. “No, Joseph does not accept that attempt. But I will be…more gentle this time.” John spoke slowly, careful of his words. He opened his mouth to speak again, but stopped himself. He didn’t want to scare her by telling her she also needed to go through the marking of her sins. He was not looking forward to that. He did not want to hurt her, but he knew it was Joseph’s will.

“Gentle is good, John. I was so scared the last time.” Erin said before turning her face from John as she yawned. She closed her eyes for a few moments before opening them again as she felt the bed dipping next to her.

“Shh, no…close your eyes, sweetheart. You need your rest.” John said. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before carefully pulling her into his arms. “I will be here when you wake up. I promise.”

With that, Erin closed her eyes again, happily drifting off to sleep in John’s embrace.

[thenixkat]

Animorphs notes 3

Book 3

Narrated by Tobias. Getting all of the white kids out of the first I guess

Tobias forgets the color of his eyes after a few weeks as a bird. But he remembers that he had blond hair and was kinda big.

Tobi has also oly been looking at his bird face head on cause otherwise he’d notice how doofy his face looks

Dan’s not holding that hawk prisoner he’s just got shitty animal husbandry. If that 3 ft by 3 ft cage is the only cage he keeps her in. That could just be a travel cage dude uses for the filming for all the info I have and Tobi has already demonstrated that he over anthropomorphises animals

Also Tobi is gonna get that captive bird fucking killed with this Peta shit.

And he does something very unbirdlike infront of multiple people any of whom could be a controller.

And he nearly gets killed doing this.

Tobias is a dumbass that doesnt consider the consequences of shit.

Tobi she’s a fucking bird and there’s a fucking elephant destroying shit and humans causing a ruckus. She’s startled and startled birds fucking fly u numpty!

Rachel chews Tobias out for being a complete idiot and starting that stunt while on fucking air

Ya know what, Tobi’s descriptions of Rachel are starting to make me uncomfortable. And that plus his insistence of talking to Rachel on her solo mission every 5 secs probably means he has some creepy crush on her

Tobi don’t start on that shit you chose to be in morph far more than was safe, was warned multiple times of the time limit and got yerself stuck. Its not a curse if yer fucking responsible.

Applegate skips on the whole redtails also hunt smaller birds and that’s… weird

Tobi assumes that a human smiling when they see a bird means their jealous. Not that like, the person just fucking likes birds and nature and shit and is either going to or going home from a job where they spent hours in a bland cubicle looking at just a computer so hey a cool bird, they must be jelly that they cant fly.

I don’t like Tobias.

Why do the yeerk ships have clocking that hides them in ultraviolet as well when humans can’t see into that range? Wouldn’t it make sense just to cloak along the visible spectrum and save power and also cleaning bills from hitting so many birds and bugs?

Marco is valid.

Also betting that that released hawk is gonna be ded in the next few days.

Also why did Jake not get any info from Cassie on potentially what to feed Tobias? Why isn’t Tobias just fucking living at Cassie’s barn? She could claim that he’s some tame hawk that someone gave to her b/c they couldn’t afford to take care of him any more

Tobias why didn’t you bring up the thing in the sky to the whole group?

Is this brooding angst?

Also if Tobias has been eating random leftovers from Jake for weeks he should be sick as fuck.

Why didn’t anyone call Child Protective Services for Tobias’ case too?

Dead geese

Wolves were recently released in the nearby national parkl/woods

There are mountains nearby, and a coast near by, an abandoned church, a mall next to a construction site

Has Marco been in the mountains before?

Marco, yall only tried to rescue Tom once. That’s not everything you could do. Yall could just fucking kidnap him and fake his death and also tell Jake’s parents so they don’t do anything… rash

Tobias is kinda taking charge of this mission

Tobias doesnt like Marco

Its 20 miles from Cassie’s barn to the mountains

Cassie apparently dosent consider that female wolves might also fight for dominance

None of these kids practiced this morph beforehand even tho they know morphing something for the first time usually leads to some loss of control

Cassie can morph horse. There’s horses plural at her barn. They could have all become horses in the woods to travel the 20 miles then turned into more normal forest animals to blend in once they got there.

Every Time they morph my comparative anatomy classes start fucking screaming in anguish. The knees reversing is not nearly as bad as fingers shriveling and disappearing b/c somebody doesnt know fucking digitigrade limb anatomy

Morphing took Cassie 2 mins

Tobais is a hawkaboo

Alpha. Ick

Jake can’t control his morph and is triggering wolf shit in the others

They really should just fucking demorph and remorph.

Tobias gets frustrated and flies off to clear his head

Too fucking bad we dont get a first person view of turning into a wolf b/c Tobias got himself stuck as his fursona and had to narrate this book

Fake park rangers

No, I’m not going to believe that hork-bajir have T. rex feet b/c these kids know jack and shit about every kinda animal. Also zygodactyl feet make more sense for a tree climber, and would look lovely while kangaroo hopping

Tobias only notes blades on their heads, wrists, elbows and knees.

Tobi mistakes a random group of 5 wolves for his friends

These dumbasses dont demorph and remorph b/c they want to be wolves for the rest of their life

Taxxons are consistently described as fat centipedes

Tobias finds out his hawk body is horny for a lady bird

More misinformation on how wolf packs work

Idiots don’t display submissive behavior and back away to avoid a conflict. Or just flat out fucking run away.

SO the gang are able to demorph at least 7 mins past the two hours time limit. Cassie was in morph the longest yet is the first to finish and then helps the other morph with her coaching skills. Interesting.

SO how long can they really stay in morph? It takes Cassie 2mins to morph, they were at least 7 mins past the window. Cassie spent 69 mins in morph more or less, could she go longer?

Did lying to them about how much time they had left help? How much of morphing is psychological?

Owls can and would eat hawks. Tobias should be concerned about that.

Marco comes up with the idea to drive the alien tanker uncloaked over the city to alert the citizens

Jakes plan is to enter the ship through the pipes as fish. Why would there be a way to get into the rest of the ship from the water tank?

Rachel’s gymnastics group is doing a show in the mall

It bothers me that the kids and books don’t call Iness 226 by their name. B/c conflating the yeerk with their host is… not a good mentality to have

...birds can walk. Does Tobias think the only way birds can move is by flying? He can fucking run, it’d be a cute little flapping waddle but he can fucking run

Tobias loses control kills a rat, has a freak out and tries to commit suicide in front of Rachel. Is thwarted by Marco

Tobias goes feral to avoid his emotions

Tobias goes to see if the female hawk is still alive/maybe a booty call

Ya know I wanna know whats going on with the other animorphs while Tobias is having this crisis

It took Tobias a surprisingly long time to get past his shit and give a damn that a person was about to be brutally murdered in front of him

… how does Tobi’s eye attack work on the hork-controllers? AT what angle is he going to avoid the foot long horns and still hit the eyes?

You can totally hug a damn bird Applegate. People hug birds all the damn time.

Why don’t the two people with osprey morphs? Catch fish? Hell they could work together driving the fish into a net if they’d thought to bring a net.

These kids are so dumb. Marco? Cassie? Morph fucking ospery and see where the fish are!

Toboas gets distracted by the sexy lady hawk durring an important part of the mission

Andalite description: eyes on antler-like stalks, large main eyes, dainty hooves

Why is Visser 3 here now?

Plan gets 500% more dangerous and Jake and Rachel still push for it

Cassie sides with doing the plan over fucking waiting till security cools off and trying again when there’s less chance of death

The hork-controllers shoot a deer but not a bird going out over the lake multiple times

Hork-controller talking shit to a human-controller

Why is there a grate at the top of the water tank that leads in to the rest of the ship?

Tobias genuinely seems to think that there are voluntary hork-controllers given this and his comment in the first book’

Also I don’t like how Tobi keeps refering to non-human people as creatures. This shit probably happened in the other books but fuck it I’m noting it now

Heh. The kids can’t open the grate to escape and are plotting group suicide to avoid capture and infestation.

Its almost like trying to infiltrate a spaceship/tanker through the water take was a very very bad idea.

Tho is they had like mosquito morphs it might have worked

Taxxons can apparently climb like small bugs do.

Tobi steals a gun to kill the ship with

Tobi kills a ship with a gun

Random chance saves the animorphs again and Tobi is the only one to notice the humans falling out of the ship

…. Marco has an osprey morph not bald eagle.

Also! Bald eagles are fish eaters! Why didn’t Rachel morph to make fishing a little easier

Tobi sees the sexy lady hawk die

[challito]

Fool Me Once... - Triumvirate Pt. 2

Just as foretold, the Twilight Mist departed from the port at Lioura as the sun crested the horizon. The cargo ship, painted in shades of purple and red, sailed gently past the two guardian statues of Atala and Veisu, the Goddesses of sea and fire, coercion and conflict. The rising sun set the ocean on fire with brilliant shades of pink and orange and red. All crew watched in silent reverence. As it seemed Atala and Veisu were blessing their journey.

It took them three days in total. The weather was fair, and Kai aided their journey with his skill as a sailor. Sailing with an Aquan was a novel thing for a Terran crew. Not only could he scale the rigging with the best of them, but 3 times he dropped with the anchor to make sure it was well secured. 

Kai hunted for fish. After dropping anchor he would swim through the ocean and chase them down. With the retractable gills about his neck he could live underwater without an issue. Many Aquans did. The crew ate well for three days, though they were extremely reserved in how they showed their gratitude. 

They could have perhaps made port by mid-day. However, Arimnestos’ emissary insisted on keeping the anchor down until after the sun had reached it’s highest point on the third day. He insisted that it was the surest way of avoiding a pirates route.

The emissary explained in his ancient way of speaking, that pirates would not sail past Bris in the twilight hours. So, they waited. They waited until the sun had left its zenith and then they pulled anchor and set sail for Bris. They made good time and soon enough the island of Bris rose up out of the water before them.

The sun began to set, and a cold mist rolled out over the water. Unlike the brilliant sunrise they had witnessed on the day of their departure, the sunset they viewed now was cold and eerie. Muted shades of purple rolled across the gentle swell and hung in the mist that grew thicker the closer they travelled toward their destination. Eventually the fog became so thick it seemed as though they sailed through an ethereal plane made entirely of dull purple fog and cloud.

Clio looked nervously to Daphne while rubbing the tip of one of her long ears. Even Kai, an accomplished sailor could not supress a shudder as a chill swept up his spine. The crew however, seemed calm as they navigated the bulky cargo ship through the mist.

The emissary said nothing as they arrived. He simply stood at the bow with a grim expression on his face until they had docked at a small rickety structure. It was only when Daphne, Clio and Kai stepped onto shore that he finally spoke.

“Follow that road, and do not veer.” He told them quickly. Already, his crew were pushing off.

“Where are you going?” Kai asked as the ship was pulling away.

“We cannot leave our vessel here for fear of pirates. My sincerest apologies that I will not be able to introduce you to my master. I pray I see you all again very soon.” The emissary called in an uncharacteristically apathetic tone of voice as the boat sailed away.

“He didn’t seem particularly apologetic.” Clio said.

“Why do I get the feeling that we’ve just been duped?” asked Kai

“I think you’re both wound far too tight.” Daphne replied, before turning to Kai with a cheeky smile. “Let’s share some of that smoking leaf you bought last night. I’m in the mood to enjoy a gorgeous moonlit stroll through this strange and foreign land. We’re all about to be very rich indeed.”

And so, they did. They passed a pipe between themselves and talked on the intricacies of how the stars shone and the trees swayed. They walked closer together when wolf howls filled the air and laughed when frogs began croaking in a chorus of harmonies.

Daphne told them a story of how she had stolen a dagger from a wealthy aristocrat in Katrosi. Then she showed them the dagger itself. Clio was impressed enough to release a small gasp, while Kai laughed and clapped Daphne on her shoulder.

As they continued down the road, Kai began to notice faint whisps of fog at the edges of his vision. Although, whenever he tried to focus on them they always seemed to evaporate only to reappear moments later. From the way Clio waved her hand before her face, he gathered he wasn’t the only one to notice.

They had been walking for quite a while when Kai stopped suddenly. “Do you smell that?” he asked.

“What?” said Clio, stopping a few paces ahead of Kai. She was working a burr out of her thick blonde hair.

“Rot.” He said. “Death.”

Daphne stopped then too. “Yeah, I can smell it.”

“It could be an animal.” Clio said before they all stood in silence for a moment. “The Emissary said not to veer from the path.”

A chill wind blew through the forest and the stench of death wafted more strongly. Clio clutched her holy symbol and looked to Kai who had his eyes nestled between the trees. It was then that Clio experienced a push. It was like a whisper uttered behind her ear. It was almost as though the Goddess Iros was teasing her into the forest. As any devout priestess would, Clio followed her Goddess’ guidance.

Kai spared Daphne a look who shrugged. Tentatively, the two of them followed Clio into the forest. Though Daphne moved with confidence Kai could see her tail curled nervously about one leg. Carefully, quietly they wound their way through thick trees and sparse underbrush until they reached a small clearing. The body was simple enough to find. The smell made sure of that. It wafted across the clearing and even from the distance they stood, they could see its source was certainly not an animal.

It was a man. Pale skin and himation torn and bloody. One sandal lay in the middle of the clearing along with a walking cane. Daphne gingerly edged closer to the body. Kai followed until he was in the middle of the clearing. He noticed the ground was scattered with claw marks, blood, and paw prints. As if on cue, a wolf howl rung out of the night.

“Let’s get back to the road.” Kai whispered.

“He has something in his hand.” Daphne said, just as hushed.

“Forget it.” Clio tried to whisper across the clearing.

Daphne was already wrestling with the dead man’s hand. Prying stiff fingers open to reveal a crumpled letter inside. She held it aloft victoriously. A second howl rung out of the night. Kai waved for Daphne to get moving. Clio was already quickly making her way back toward the road. He waited until pink skinned Tainted was passed before he followed.

Kai saw the road and at the same moment, he heard a growl low and threatening. Less than a few hundred metres away a wolf prowled quickly toward them. He didn’t need to search the forest know that more would be closing in.

“Wolves!” He called.

Clio and Daphne began to run. The three of them breached the tree line with barking and yipping chasing close at their heels. On the northern side of the road, Kai could make out 3 shapes moving through the trees. He pointed them out. Daphne already had a short bow drawn and had just finished stringing it.

“There!” Kai called.

A moment later there was a twang, an arrow flew into the darkness. There was a heartbeat of silence before a yip told them that Daphne had hit the mark. Growls followed that, low and angry. Clio whispered some holy words and clutched her magic symbol. At her command, a light burst into the tree’s illuminating the area. Daphne fired another arrow at the same wolf who they could now see was limping from where the first arrow had grazed it. Between Daphne’s arrows and Clio’s illumination the wolves fell back, nervous and agitated.

“Run.” Said Clio.

They ran. Their legs pounded the dirt road underfoot. Kai, bringing up the rear spared constant glances over his shoulder. Daphne’s tail waved erratically and more than once Clio had to swerve to avoid being tripped. They ran hard and fast and didn’t stop until they breached the tree line.

Breathless, they finally exited the forest and found themselves at the edge of a vast sloping valley that dropped away toward a twisting stream to the south.  The wolf howls that had hounded their escape now called from farther away. A crescent moon cast long shadows across the land that made it impossible to decipher its exact features.

The whole landscape was painted in muted colours and grey scales. Far from the beautiful description that the emissary had painted for them full of colour and life. The fog now hung steadily in the air. It seemed now that the triumvirate was deep enough into its lands; it had no reason to curl like fingers onto their skin and into the backs of their minds.

“What does the letter say?” Kai asked, taking a sip from his water skin. They were a few hundred meters from the tree line and agreed it was safe enough to stop to catch their breath.

Clio straightened it out and turned it over. The wax seal was different from the one the emissary had shown them. While they waited for her to read, Daphne took Kai’s waterskin from his hand without him realizing and drank. When he looked at her in surprise, she stuck her tongue out. Clio opened the envelope gingerly and extracted the letter.

“I pray this letter may pass across the impossible boundaries, I, humble servant of my people, write to you in my darkest hour. My daughter, Helen of Bris has been bitten by a Vampyr. For centuries, this creature has sucked the life blood from the people of this land, and now he sets his sights on my daughter. He is too powerful for us to conquer. I know for certain that my families end is close at hand.

The wanderer that I entrust this letter to assures me he knows a way off this island, though none of our people have ever been able to leave its shores. If he speaks truth, I beg of you, surround this land with your priests and priestesses. Pray this Vampyr back to whichever hell he came from. The fate of Bris is doomed, but I hope with this warning your world may be saved.

  Sincerely, Aristo Arimnestos of Bris.”

“That can’t be right.” Daphne said grabbing the letter from Clio. She read through it a few times quickly.

Clio took out the first letter the emissary had given them. She looked between the two letters. “Do you think the writing is different?”

Daphne checked them both. “They’re definitely written in different hands.”

“There you have it. We’ve been had.” Kai said. “That’s what was wrong with the emissary. He was luring us here like bait on a line.”

The other two looked at nervous.

“I knew there was something wrong with him, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Fuck!” Kai swore loudly.

“He couldn’t…” Clio trailed off.

“Put the pieces together, it fits.” Kai said.

They stood in silence for a long while. Daphne took a seat on the side of the road. Clio closed her eyes and whispered a hurried prayer to her Goddess. Kai kicked a stone into the valley that sloped away south from the side of the road.

They discussed their options quickly and quietly. A powerful vampire was not something to trifle with or so folk tales told. At least from what they’d heard, no one had truly seen a vampire for hundreds of years. They were so ancient and extinct that they now traversed the line between fantasy and legend.

“I don’t think it’s worth going back to the dock.” Daphne said at length.

Kai nodded.

“So?” Clio asked.

“It sounds like regardless of anything else, Arimnestos and Helen could use some help.” Kai said grimly.

“If they even exist. This Vampire could have made them all up.” Clio said.

“It could all be made up. The vampire could be made up. Or there could be someone in danger that we can still help.” Kai said softly.

After another long pause, it was Daphne that spoke. “Then we shouldn’t waste any more time.”

“Let’s be careful about how we do this. The next time we rush into something, it could mean our lives.” Kai said.

Clio nodded and adjusted the pack on her shoulders and then they walked. The short twists and turns of the forest road became long sweeping curves that traced along the backs of the hills that made Brisian countryside. Despite the monotony of its monochromatic landscape, there was a beauty in its heavy melancholy. They walked until the chill of the land reached up from inside the earth with icy fingers. They walked until fog clouded their vision and a peculiar network of shadows rose intimidatingly before them.

Between them, they could not decipher the source of the shadows, so they continued forth at a tentative pace. Hyper aware of every sound, no matter how banal. Finally, they could see those looming, ominous shapes to be buildings. One and two storey structures, their colours washed away decades ago, stood weakly against fear. Most looked uninhabited or in utter disrepair. The crunch of the dirt road and a lone mournful wailing were the only sounds that greeted them.

“The whole of my states fortune as recompense.” Daphne quoted bleakly as they walked between the dilapidated structures.

There were scant signs of life among the few streets that made up the so called ‘town.’ Village was surely the proper description. The wailing continued long and low, though its source was elusive. A few taller buildings towered over the rest of the village but did nothing to detract from the depressing, derelict vibe that oozed out of every innumerable crack and crevice.

“I don’t like this.” Said Clio who had gone back to holding the holy symbol around her neck.

The Triumvirate stopped at a fork in the road. They were carefully deciding which route to take when Kai spotted a small figure. It peeked out from around a corner on the road to their right. There were no other signs of life, apart from the wailing, of course. Carefully they followed the figure until they found themselves on a new road with a grand three-storey house that towered over its neighbours.

Like the rest of the structures, the house had been plastered in clay and painted white. Unlike the rest of the structures, the façade was well maintained. It hadn’t cracked and flaked away to reveal the rotting bricks beneath. The painted clay was still vibrant shades of white and purple. A girl sat before the front door holding her knees and weeping. Kai and Clio could still hear the disembodied moaning that echoed through the village. Slowly, it was Daphne that walked toward the little girl with careful steps.

“What’s wrong, lovely?” She said, reaching out slowly to comfort the child.

The girl flinched away instinctively. “A beast has entered my house.”  She said. “It is a ghastly monster and I fear for the life of my dear mother.” Her accent was foreign, and she spoke in the same antiquated rhythm as the emissary.

Daphne looked back to her companions. Kai was trying to find the source of the disembodied moaning while Clio was on her way to the girl. She knelt beside Daphne.

“The creature that you saw, what did it look like?” Clio asked gently, still holding her holy symbol.

“I know not. It could have been daemon, or beast, or worse. But it is in there with my mother and will surely take her life. Please, please, you must help.” Tears rolled down her cheeks fat and slow as she spoke.

“We have to go in.” Clio said standing.

“What?” Kai said, only just turning to take in the whole situation. His heart was beating fast, suddenly alert. “What about the town watch. We should at least let them know.”

“We have no such an organization. Please, it must be you. There isn’t much time” Sobbed the little girl.

Kai’s mind raced but Clio was right. They didn’t have time. Whatever creature was inside had plenty of time to make this sobbing girl motherless. Though as he followed his two companions who rushed through the front door ahead of him, he felt again the sensation that something wasn’t quite right.

It wasn’t until he was past the threshold that his stomach dropped. It dropped so fast that it felt as though the floor had fallen out beneath him. He was being lured into a trap, same as before.

“Wait!” He called, spinning to face back toward the girl.

The door slammed shut in his face and then there was silence. A cold wind blew through the house. Kai gingerly reached out for the door handle. It turned. Then it kept turning until it fell way from the door completely and dissolved into sand which slipped between his cerulean fingers.

“Fuck.” Kai said again. Though this time, he was not angry at having been lured into a trap. Anger was for the first time and this was the second. This time he just felt like a fool. 

[shyyynobi]

Lone Wolf

Prompt: Lone WolfPairing: TobiSaku
Rating: M
Requested by: 

sunrises6….Well somehow, and I’m not sure how but this became rather smutty. Tasteful smut? I’m not even sure if this is what the requester wanted but my mind does things sometimes. My description does say NSFW, so most of my writing is usually on the more mature side of things. Idk what this is, but it seemed to fit the prompt and I like the end result.

                                                                  xox

        The loneliness never bothered him.

The dreary weather, long days and even longer nights were something he was accustomed to. The days he spent nuzzled in the trenches of his village seemed fabricated by now -- like a hazy memory where a blissful happiness felt sinful.

Did he have a purpose?

He couldn’t say he did.

After the death of his family, he couldn’t remain stagnant.

His brother pleaded with him to stay, they could fix the village, together. Hashirama had always been content with their village, he never saw the beauty in traveling — in boarding ships that crossed seas to exotic deserts and forests.

Tobirama, however — didn’t have any ties to that village. The faux piece of land that tethered him to a “home.” Once, when he had a family and a betrothed — he felt content with a full heart in defending the walls of their village.

After their homes had been raided, he couldn’t walk through the streets and farmland without thinking about his lost love, his brother’s, and parents that he couldn’t protect.

So, he supposed he did have a purpose now — protecting those that were too weak to protect themselves. Rather cliché work, but he took comfort in knowing he saved lives. A heroes meta.

His white hair glimmered under the crescent moon, the long, rearing cry of wolves in the distance echoed around the lake. Their songs were comforting to him, it tied him to reality. Were they lost? A pack of wolves would always be better than one.

Tobirama washed off his hakama in the water — the only source of light emanated from the dimly lit moon, even the stars decided to stay hidden tonight in fear of the lone wolf stalking the woods nearby. He didn’t mind the darkness, red eyes pierced through the shadows for any remnants of life — but only the sound of the water splashing on the shore confirmed his loneliness.

The blood washed off of his clothing, it would be a good time to bathe while he was here. It was no hot spring, but in these vast foyers of sacred woods with rocky terrain it would be difficult to find such an accommodation. Still, it had been a few weeks since he had last seen a village — by now he should be reaching Twin Peaks, and the trodden roads within the woods indicated that at the very least this lake sat nearby a trade route.

It took time to set up camp, but he set himself up near the lake, knowing it would be better to press his back to the lake than open the possibility of being found sleeping unawares in the blanketed trees.

The summer months provided a new warmth that settled over the lands, and although he preferred the winter months — summer always reminded him of the days with his family within his village.

Hours later, the sound of a soft, innocent laughter sprinkled itself over his sleep.

The lone warrior woke with a start, grabbing his katana by his side sparingly.

The sound of water splashing startled him and he lifted himself off of the ground, aware of the body playing around in the water in what he could assume was only twenty feet away from him. Covered by a musket of plants and bushes by the shore, he crept low enough to keep himself covered.

The moon hung high over the long hours of the night, reflecting off of the lake.

And to the lone wolf’s astonishment, a young woman played around in the water.

Bare as the day she was born, her breasts bounced playfully as she submerged herself in the water and reappeared, happily lazing around in the cool water. From here, he had ample view of the long tresses of inexplainable silvery-pink hair and the soft expanse of her stomach that led to a soft patch of pink curls at the juncture of her thighs.

He was no stranger to the female body.

But with the water droplets glistening off of her skin, Tobirama had to calm himself from the sudden thought that he hadn’t lain or seen a woman naked in well over two years.

His hakama felt painfully tight.

The white wolf watched her curiously play in the water.

Were there others? 

From the looks of it she seemed to be alone, which was odd for a young woman to be this far out from her village at these hours of night without supervision. Which was concerning considering the fact that wolves and preying men would love nothing more than to steal her from the water and keep her for themselves.

She sunk beneath the water then and disappeared. He stayed planted in his seat, ignoring how much of a lech he looked like, peering at her from beyond the bushes. When a few minutes passed by without her bob of pink hair surfacing, he started to move forward — thinking she somehow got stuck at the bottom of the deceiving lake.

Just as he moved past the brush, the magnetic woman reappeared from the water and blinked back the water from her eyes — which he now noticed were a deep, enchanting color of viridian. Like the treetops after a fresh blanket of snow, they reflected the light of the moon while remaining their ecstatic green.

He never felt nervous — not in battle, not when meeting the crowds that greeted him after a successful mission, not when he saw the edges of death.

Yet now, the lone wolf felt like his chest might implode when the woman laid eyes on him at the bank of the lake.

With the curious tilt of her head, she didn’t cover herself — nor did she freak out by the man that was unassumingly staring at her. She should have screamed, should have covered herself, should have worried that he might do something to her that he couldn’t promise he could control.

Instead, she smiled softly.

“You finally decided to join me,” she called out to him playfully.

Little confused him, but this girl was quickly becoming an enigma.

He didn’t say anything, but instead watched her lean back in the water with that bright smile, “I knew you were watching from beyond the brush — I was wondering what it would take to get you to come out.”

His eyes narrowed, “so you faked drowning to get me out here?”

The woman peered at him innocently, “I don’t recall doing such a thing, all I did was try and reach the bottom of the lake.”

Her voice lulled the syllables of her words, he could easily envision her singing to children in her free time with the sweetness conveyed in her words, “—you looked rather peaceful sleeping over there, sorry if I woke you — I enjoy coming out here for a swim every so often.”

She knew he had been here?

“You live near here?” he called out to her, finding himself inclined to learn more.

The mysterious woman motioned towards the woods, “I grew up in these woods — our village is only a mile or so from here.”

“You come out here by yourself? Don’t you know how dangerous it is for a beau—“ he paused, clearing his throat, “for a woman to be out here alone?”

She smirked, pouty lips twisting upwards, “of course I do. Although I hope your speaking for yourself considering you watched me through the bushes, Sir.”

A sharp tongue.

Tobirama could feel himself slowly eb on the edge of embarrassment, “—I wasn’t.”

“I don’t mind,” she interrupted, “I figure you’re a good man.”

He glanced at the way she waded through the water, slowly coming closer to the edge until her feet hit the bottom and she emerged halfway, nothing but the water covering her lower half, “and why do you figure that?” he murmured huskily — finding himself entranced by this strangely exotic looking woman.

“If you weren't a good man you wouldn’t have tried to save me thinking I was drowning,” she stated as if it were common sense.

The water rolled down the expanse of her pretty face, down the length of her slim neck, trailing down her skin until the droplets rolled off pert nipples. He didn’t normally oggle at women, nor did he ever feel inclined to chase after them and use their bodies.

“Are you coming in or not?” she murmured silkily, that doting, playful smile on her face.

He glanced around, halfway wondering if this were a trap of some sort.

Deciphering that no — there was nobody around to steal the small assortment of his camp. Still, there was a scent of her genuine nature standing between them, compelling him to move forward.

Deciding that he would give in to the pink haired siren before him — he set his katana down at the foot of the shore and began undoing his hakama. When the material fell at his feet, he traced the way her eyes sized him up and she gently bit her lip.

He reached her within seconds, tugging her into the water with a playful yelp. 
When they emerged from the water, he stared into the expanse of her wide sea green eyes, her smaller body fitting into his sizable frame perfectly amongst the lapping waves of the lake, “—what’s your name?” he had to know.

The young woman traced her fingers up his side, weaving along the lines of his jagged scars and abdomen, causing goosebumps to kiss his skin, “—Sakura.”

Under the moonlight, they spent hours playing in the water and learning about one another, when they found their way to the shore and he rolled his hips against hers, the soft way she mewled beneath him, tilting her head back and he bit at her neck, exploring the expanse of her body to fit with his own.

They came together, hard and fast — her soft cries consumed by his mouth as he grunted his release inside of her, lost in the feeling of her body.

They fell asleep together at his camp, clothes foregone. 

The morning arrived at the peak of the distance mountains, the birds chirped their lovely songs — and he woke to see that Sakura was missing, the spot where she had fallen asleep pressed against him vacant. All of his belongings were neatly organized beside him, but she was gone. 

For years now he welcomed the stone walled silence. Welcomed the thought of being alone. Forewent the attachment that only led to a path of pain. 



With her sudden absence, he decided then that perhaps the loneliness did bother him.

[bulletandsophia]

This is it. It really seems like Jonsa is not the endgame. I'm so heartbroken. :(

Aww, don’t be like that anon, we really can’t say yet until the last episode of the season airs. I still have my hopes up. And I am saying this not only for the benefit of our beloved ship, but for the sake of the entire show. 

I know the past few episodes has been so difficult to watch as a Jonsa shipper but we’ve always known that J/D has to happen. Both of their fates have been so intertwined with the Iron Throne and the White Walkers that there are no two characters destined to unite the political and the magical plots of the show aside from them both. 

What I find so appalling at the moment is how it was so poorly written and structured (at least in the show) that I got nothing from it except for the obvious convenience their union and teaming-up would bring. The picture J/D paints is a beautiful one. Two strong, attractive characters getting together to fight the villains (both the WW and Cersei) and save the world. It feels and looks so fantastical and epic–which is great as a viewer because this promises us with more action and with even a possibly positive ending in sight. 

But that convenience too remains to be my issue with this ship (and why I believe that it will not end well) simply because it is such a short cut. It also feels like a distraction too. Because as most viewers have celebrated the “canonization” of this ship, most has also forgotten about its possible repercussions–and just because they’re so beautiful to see. I am not saying that J/D does not have the substance, but what I am saying is that this “union”, as in right now as we see them in episode 6 (and the promised boatbang in episode seven), is not the end of their story. Or everyone’s for that matter.

People seem to forget too that Jon is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. What do you think D would feel about that when she, clear as day, still wants and insists that she will wear the crown? Will she give that up for love? Then what about the North? What about Jon and his crisis once the truth about his parentage is revealed? Will he rule the kingdoms with D? What about the Starks, the Starks who are probably the heart of this show?

You see what I mean? There are still so many questions needed to be answered in line with the J/D ship that while they are seemingly picture-perfect now, it does not mean that they will be forever. And if, and I wholeheartedly wish that showrunners won’t go this route, that all the issues will be resolved simply because J/D love each other and it’s them against the world, then that’s just poor, poor writing, isn’t it? Oberyn didn’t get his head crushed for it. Ned didn’t get beheaded for this. Heck, we’d never have the privilege to see (and hate) cunning characters like Littlefinger only for some quick, and quite frankly, cheesy resolution. For all the genius GoT has showcased all these years, the last two seasons are not the best time for them to falter. 

And that’s so selfish of J/D too, isn’t it? If they disregard everything else but go with a love will conquer all campaign? I think there is a reason too why they united for season seven instead of season eight where there’s probably bigger chances of a happy ending. For me, it means there’s still so much room for the other plots (FINALLY) to come into fruition. 

Let’s not even get started in talking about the character motivations of J and D. D is seemingly the more transparent between the two of them and there is no denying her attraction for Jon. The catalysts for her internal conflict then would be: saving the realm, conquering the Iron Throne, her love for Jon, and Jon himself through his parentage.

In Jon’s case, which up until now is the more intriguing simply because he is an undeniably good person, what is he willing to risk to do the right thing? I am not even saying “honorable” thing because doing the right thing is not necessarily an honorably act, i.e. betraying his Northern family might not be an honorable thing, but in order to survive the long night, it’s the right (and possibly necessary, as what the undercover Jon theory suggests) thing to do. 

So, would he forget his home the same we shall forget that once upon a time, he wishes to “go south and get warm” not until Sansa arrived and placed purpose in his life again? That he was “tired of fighting” but then fought still because Sansa will do it herself if she has to? What then would he feel knowing that he is not a Stark and that ultimately, with his claim as Rhaegar’s heir, he is the only one getting in between D and her throne (in a narrative that the WW and Cersei both perish)? 

Should we also forget that the only thing Jon wants is to be a Stark? 

Another thing to remember, Jon did not go to Dragonstone to fall in love with D. He went there to save the North, as what he has insisted and reiterated to Beric just this previous episode (”I serve the North”). This “attraction” with D is more than anything, an accident–to his and D’s surprise. But to us, the viewers, it’s not. It’s purposeful. At this point, we are Melisandre–placing “ice and fire” together. 

Anyway, anon, simply put, with J/D, we are seeing what we are already expecting to see. That in itself, again, is another self-serving, superficial notion about this ship because it makes us forget the other reasons. 

What other reasons?

This one. 

This one. 

This one.

This one.

This one.

This one.

This one.

This one.

And even this one.

These are not even all of it, anon. Some are not even Jonsa romantic but you see, there is another side of Jon we should never forget–hence, I believe this is his song, this is his story, and that he is ice AND fire. 

This part of him is his very grounded and very human facet that is now overlooked simply because of (literally) bigger enemies and bigger enchantments. I mean, who does not like the theatrics?

Most viewers disregard Jonsa simply because this is not what they are expecting to see. Perhaps it is just such a bitter, bitter pill to swallow because conventionally, they are not the “power-couple”. That there’s not much grandeur into this union. It’s so quiet, it’s so domestic. Now, this might be an issue of audience insight and views more than the writing but yes, it can be a reason, and yes, I believe the limited view of the reader or the audience MUST never hinder a text to stretch its narrative–a narrative in this case, that is filled with Jonsa subtleties–simply because it’s not the mainstream consensus. So let’s not even get started with that poor, poor issue on incest (I will defend BOTH ships forever on that matter).

But anyway, if Jonsa then is a red herring, as some argument goes, then simply, what a waste of writing, screen time, and most importantly, potentially great, great conflict and storytelling moving forward–not only to challenge the predictability of J/D, but for the characters’ personal and internal struggles as well since this scenario ultimately and instantly juxtaposes them to the conflicts of the past that we don’t want them to repeat (i.e. Jamie/Cersei, Rhaegar/Lyanna) and the kind of future we’d like them to embody (i.e Ned/Cat)–just like the promised chaos in the Winds of Winter vs. the promised calm of the Dream of Spring (A Time for Wolves). It is not even far-fetched at this point to talk about the future considering that in the show, succession is already becoming a plot point. 

But nevertheless, my point is, the inclusion and recognition of Jonsa in the narrative is the level of complexity GoT is known for–and not even just for the shock and awe (which any zombie dragon can already fulfill). This conflict gives the story another layer for us to peel and understand no matter how uncomfortable and unpopular and bittersweet, or perhaps, even weirdly satisfying. 

Anyway, the way they scatter hints and subtleties all over the seasons always bite us back in the end. So, if Jonsa does not sail (in which, I believe, it is already actually sailing), it’s not then our loss, anon.

It’s Dan Weiss and David Benioff’s loss. (I still am hopeful for GRRM).

[pinkheichou]

I wasn't planning on requesting again for the rare pair prompts but I just noticed one of the prompts, so I have to now. 27 and erejearmin? (also a weekly rarepair weekend sounds amazing, would you use the same prompt list or will it be different ones?)

tea–is-not-leaf-juice said:

So I saw that you’re taking rarepair drabble requests. I’ve recently found new appreciation for rivarmin. I also like erejearmin, but can’t find very many good writings of those three. I would really like to read either pair if you want to write them. :)

——-

Well @farlanchurch-isthemumfriend​ I decided it would be a nice idea to do a rarepair weekend once in a while! ^~^ It won’t be weekly, though, but maybe every few months because as you can see I suck at writing the prompts quickly. But when I post them they have actual one-shot length, so that should be sorta a compensation, right? :’) (well…… I hope you all think so too!) Thanks for your prompt!

And @tea–is-not-leaf-juice since I still have a Rivarmin prompt sitting in my ask, I decided I should write Erejearmin for you, with a prompt I wrote together with @farlanchurch-isthemumfriend ‘s one. For you, I chose number 9. I hope this will meet your standards, thanks for your ask~ (btw yes yes Rivarmin is such a great ship! *^* )

Erejearmin, 27: “Can’t you just be nice to them, for once?” - “Can’t, I only save that for you.”

Erejearmin, 9: “You know, you’re really sexy when you’re angry.”

(The Erejearmin here is Eremin + Jearmin)

————————————————

“Guys,” Armin exasperated warily, cocking one brow as he worea cautious smile.

Two guys, best frenemies, were scowling at each other, foreheadsbumped together and chests pressed sturdily, firm, both with seethingfaces.

Eren and Jean growled like hungry, territorial-defending wolves,and acted like one.

“It’s okay. Really.” Armin attemped to loose the palpabletension, but his words were bouncing offbefore they even reachedtheir ears, as if Jean and Eren hat built up an aura around them thatsaid ‘Don’t get in my way when I’m with Armin!’.

That was basically the problem right now.

They had, luckily, worked out the issue that Armin had not one buttwo boyfriends, and on top of that it had been Eren and Jean, sodealing with them when they were all together was a carrousel ofspite and competitions. His two boyfriends would seriously still tryto win over him, although it was more than clear that Armin lovedboth equally.

But of course that wouldn’t be accepted by them quickly, evenless easily.

“I can’t fucking believe it!” Eren was in a fury, snapping,“How dare you buy the same thing for Armin! Why the fuck did you dothis?!”

Jean scoffed derogatively. “Hah! I could ask you the same! Youtook my words right out of my mouth, dimwit. You bought it after me.I had planned to make Armin happy with this, but noooooo pissy Erenhas to ruin it for us all!”

“You uncreative, ungrateful shit. You don’t even know how tomake someone happy. All you can do is piss one off!”

Their aggressive glares darkened, became stronger, and pushes thatswayed to and fro – since both applied almost equal strength to it– made the whole situation worse. Eren and Jean would snap anysecond if no one were to barge in effectively.

Normally, the two impulsive boys would get along, but not whenthey were on an occasional, inconsiderate, selfish mentaltrip where impressing Armin and, looked at it from a subliminal pointof view, making the other appear inferior, less amiable, were partsof their plans - just to have the spotlight for themselves.

No one, though, could have known or even guessed that they wouldbuy the exact same sweater that Armin had been fancying lately: Apastel yellow T-shirt with a cute panda imprint.

With the bags of said clothing stuffed into paper bags, danglinglazily in their fisted hands, Eren and Jean frowned further at oneanother, full of too much pride and undeserved audacity.

Armin sighed as he scatched his head, pouting. This banter wasunnecessary in his eyes because while his boyfriends found it arevolt to have bought the same thing for him, Armin himselfappreciated it tremendously that Eren and Jean had gifted – hadwanted to gift him – the same. To him, it meant that bothknew him very well, which is why it gave him blissful fuzzies ofinfatuation.

Armin loved his two boys so much and all he wanted right now wasto grab the shirts and pull both over his head.

How should he bring Eren and Jean down from their passive rage,though?

He had nothing to lose anyway, being bold wouldn’t be so wrongright now. Bold, but sneaky. “You know, you’re really sexy whenyou’re angry.”

There was reaction to it.

Simultaneously, Eren and Jean whipped their heads in the directionof Armin’s face that was glistening with an ingenious smirk, eyeshalf-lidded.

They approached him in a matter of a second.

“Oh, fuck, Armin. Thanks. I’m glad you find me sexy enough.”Eren breathed out, bordering on inappropriately lewd for a placeoutside of their home. He glazed dull eyes, lusting emerald swimmingin his orbs.

“Fuck off, Jaeger. It was meant for me.” Jean grunted andshifted his attention to Armin, yearning for lust just as much. Erenlet out a quick scoff before he was drowned by his actual emotions.

Both were hotly thrilled by Armin’s words, that much was forsure. Here and then they would attempt to shove the other aside,mounting proudly in front of Armin, but in the end they were toocaught up with Armin’s hypnotizing gaze; being lost in his brighteyes that seemed so innocent but were full of reflections of Armin’strue, wild side.

He rose both hands to either’s cheeks and earned a low moan fromboth, heads tilted towards his palms, humming with affectionate love.

“Don’t fight, okay? To show my utter gratitude I will wearboth shirts at once.”

To this, the smothering bubbles of pleasure reeling around thempopped almost audibly and both Eren’s and Jean’s face darkenedwith annoyance. Annoyance that was – of course! – not directed atArmin, though.

“Hmph. Fine.” they nagged in unison, holding their bagstowards Armin. How more immature and stubborn could they be?

Armin huffed out a sigh again, accepting the bags. “You two areunbelievable.”

~~~

Some hours later, cuddled on the sofa in their cozy home, Eren wasspooning Armin from behind, both watching some random TV show.

Armin had indeed, as promised, put both panda shirts over hisbody, feeling like being wrapped in a cover of love.

Eren would often pepper Armin’s neck and cheek and nose andbasically everything else he could reach with nibbling pecks and soonhe distracted him enough to let him forget about the TV show and turnhis attention to Eren only instead, giggling as he was overwhelmedwith Eren’s plenty kisses to express his neverending love for him.

“Eren, haha, stop. It’s ticklish there. Your lips tickle onthat part of my skin. Spare me, pretty please.”

Eren stopped his restless lips that had been traveling on Armin’sskins loyally, pouring love on every part he was able to catch.

He blinked slowly, curling his lips. “I’m sexier than Jean,right?”

Armin rolled his eyes, playful. “Oh, Eren, please.”

“No, no. You can tell me now. He isn’t here right now. Youdon’t have to worry hurting his feelings. You can say it. I’m thesexier one in your eyes and not him, right? You can admit it.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No, Eren. It’s because I find you two gorgeous.”

“Armiiiin,” Eren whined childishly. “Why are you stillsaying this? Jean isn’t here. You can just tell me—”

Armin booped Eren’s nose, kissing it then. “It’s fine, okay.To me, you and Jean are sexy at the same time, love.”

“But…”

“No buts.” Armin winked, having the lead in this. As always,he knew how to wrap his boyfriends around his finger. If it wasn’tfor Armin’s excellent ways of dealing with his two boyfriends,their relationship wouldn’t have been anything else than a havoc.

Eren sulked and mewled, however it left Armin unmoved.

“I love you, Eren.”

“I know, but you also love Jean.”

“That’s true.”

“Do you love me more?”

“Eren.”

“At least a bit?”

“Why won’t you understand that this conversation will gonowhere.”

A heavy sigh emitted from Eren’s throat, rumbling, clad withdefeat. He lay his head on Armin’s chest, gazing at nothing onparticular. Moodiness trailed faintly over him and Armin tried towill it away with croons and smooth hair strokes.

“Gotta piss.” Eren announced out of the blue, but he wasreally meaning it. A ‘oh-dear-please’ look was found on Armin’sfacial features, rolling eyes in addition.

When Armin was momentarily left behind alone, he tugged one end ofthe blanket farther up his chest and with his head resting on onearm, he continued to watch whatever it was airing on TV right now.

Peace was basically lingering around, blessing the air. It wassoon that another figure, someone else than Eren, entered the livingroom. With eyes focused on the direction to the kitchen isle that wasdirectly connected to the living room, scarcely looking aroundhimself, Jean strode leisurely to said place. He was wearing no morethan boxers and a tanktop that framed his upper body in anattractively way. He stretched and yawned before the fridge wasopened and ice tea brought out.

Jean was humming to himself, took out a glass and still didn’tnotice that he was being watched by soft blue eyes as a lovely smilewas directed at him.

It was only when he rose his now full glass to his lips, gazeturning forward, that Jean finally spotted an observing blond.

As Armin went on sending mute signs of love, Jean creaked a browupwards. His glass was abandoned on the top of the counterimmediately. “What? What, what, what, wait whaaaaat?” Takinglong, brisk steps, Jean had joined Armin seconds after, plumping downon the sofa next to him. “Oh. my. god. I spot a lonely Armin.You’re all by yourself here with no one giving youattention? Scandalous.”

“Gosh, I’m fine. Don’t worry. I don’t need constantattention.” Armin chuckled, squirming cutely when Jean was nosingand mouthing his skin. Again some parts tickled.

“I don’t mind giving you love constantly. Why didn’t youcall me the moment you were alone? And here I was playing video gameswhen actually my sweetheart was so lonely! Where the fuck is Jeager.He should have done at least one job properly.” Jean’s narrowedeyes scowled at the hallway.

“Jean,” Armin’s thin, graceful fingers cupped his cheeks andestablished eye contact. He put on the sweetest face he could manage.

Who could resist Armin’s charming eyes anyway?

“Can’t you just be nice to Eren, for once?”

“Can’t, I only save that for you.”

Armin was close to break a record for how many times he had rollhis eyes today already.

“God, Jean. You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably sexy, right? I’m sexier than Eren, Iknow that.“

“Hey.” A third voice, the one belonging to Eren, piercedthrough Jean’s bragging words. Eren was looking down on him, closeto peering glares at him once again. “I’m gone to the bathroomfor one second and come back to witnessing you attempting to convinceArmin of something like this?”

While Jean solely tsk’ed, Armin was heavily giving him a‘You-are-one-to-talk’-look with brows crinkled high.

Jean said, “Wow, you were talking hella long. What was it? Tooka big du—” He suppressed the last syllabees, forcing up a smilefor Armin’s sake. Bitterly, he offered, “Wanna join us?” withthe fakest kind voice ever.

“Sure.” Eren answered with just as much fakeness, his smileitching as if it was a twinge, but meant it for real.

All three snuggled together, Armin wary about evaluating the wholesituation. No insults had been uttered but they were present andclung heavy to the air with how many faint frowns were exchanged whenthey thought Armin wasn’t looking.

Armin took one of either of their hands and wrapped them aroundhis waist. Neither Eren nor Jean minded it, despite of the closenessof the other’s hand. Since they cared about Armin the most, theygenuinely eased off, putting their rivalry on ice.

If wanted by both, Eren and Jean knew how to behave and treat theother. They just had too much fun competing against each other.

“We’ll work on this more.” Armin made it himself comfortablebetween Jean’s and Eren’s chest.

The other two let this wander through their ears carelessly,forgetting about the meaning fast.

They could care about this later, but not now.

Right now, they just wanted to enjoy the warmth of the embrace.

Without any revengeful thoughts.

[ruined-rp]

Hello Addie and welcome to New Orleans, the city of The Damned. Thank you so much for applying, you have been successful for the role of Hayley Labonair. Welcome to the family, but for now it’s time to get down to business…

Head on over to the New Member Checklist, careful not to go down any dark alleys, it’s not safe here.

OUT OF CHARACTER:

Name: Addie

Pronouns: Anything of the feminine variety (she/her, etc)

Age: 21

Timezone/Country: EST

Triggers: N/A

Activity Level: 8 – I’m around nearly every day for at least one round of replies. However, I do have things like work and school that might mean I cannot be on every single day. However, I do normally have a pretty quick turn around and am always lurking on discord for plotting.

How Did You Hear About Us: I heard through a friend! The plot and intricate weaving of the shows are what made me decide to throw my hat into the ring. I have a special place in my heart for these three shows, and I’ve never quite seen them woven together in such a manner. I think it offers an opportunity to find grounds in canon but also gives the opportunity for interpretation and divergence, which I love.

Anything Else?: Excited to see how this roleplay unfolds!

DESIRED CHARACTER:

Desired Character: Hayley Labonair, queen of the wolves and my heart.

Why This Character?: In response to this specific rp, I want to play Hayley because I think her character has a lot of room to grow. In the actual show(s), she had connections that helped her grow and realize who she was. Here, she’s been thrown quite literally to the wolves, and she’s got no earthly clue what she’s doing. She has no one looking out for her, aside from Derek. I want to go through all the character building that needs to be done to make her into an alpha that’s worthy of leading the pack on her own accord. I want to expand her ability to let others in as her tumultuous life has left her rather incapable of developing and committing to relationships of any type. Hayley needs to learn that people aren’t always the enemy, and that no matter how it’s been in the past, she’s not invincible and immune to failure. I think it’ll be rewarding to help with the transition from a loner into an alpha that isn’t in power because of her namesake, but because she’s capable and able to lead the pack to a better tomorrow. In general, Hayley has always been my favorite muse to write. If you will, she’s likeable to a first language for me. I learned to play her through multiple scenarios until doing so was as natural as speaking. I feel that I have a grasp on who she is and her mannerisms because I’ve spent so long working at it. I’ve always loved her as a character, and I don’t doubt that I’ll ever stop having a soft spot in my heart for her.

Any FC Changes? No, Phoebe is an utter goddess.

Ships/Anti-ships: I’ve played out Hayley with a variety of significant others (Jackson, Elijah, Klaus, Tyler, and Derek to be exact.) Though, aside from an attraction to males, I have no firm headcanons when it comes to ships. I find that I ship based on chemistry that occurs in the writing rather than theory originating from the shows or elsewhere. I need to write against the other character and examine how my muse reacts to them before committing to a ship fully.

Headcanons: 1. Hayley’s not done digging for information on her parents. While she’s procured more information than she ever has, the wolf wants more. Hayley wants to know who they were, how they met, and just the little intricacies of their lives. Maybe it’s for her own closure or maybe just curiosity, but Hayley’s created so many scenarios of who they were and what paths had brought them to each other in her head. She wants to know everything she can because it’s the closest she’ll ever get to having them in her life. Hayley keeps this desire to herself. She knows that it isn’t outlandish to think that someone would understand why she needs this closure, but Hayley never has been good at extending her trust to anyone other than herself. 2. Hayley’s fairly handy with construction and carpentry. It’s an odd talent she truly has no use for, but she’s always been good at repairs and woodwork. When she’s stressed or angered, there’s a good chance she’ll end up doing some DIY remodeling on her cabin. Her cabin was also the first place she really utilized her abilities. The cabin already existed, but when Hayley came to the Bayou, it was uninhabitable. Weeks of work went into the refurbishing, but Hayley has successfully created a quaint and likeable home for herself. Overall, it could be said that Hayley reverts to this habit of carpentry because she needs control. Her life has been unpredictable and left her with a complex. Carpentry is solely in her hands. Every move is her choice, every mistake is her own, and most importantly, every outcome is of her choosing. 3. Hayley is claustrophobic. Hayley can’t quite place where this fear arose from. Her realization of it came after her first turn as a wolf. In preparing for her second moon, Hayley found an abandoned cellar and tried to lock herself inside to prevent anyone else from getting hurt. However, the dark, cramped space triggered more than just her curse that night. Hayley had a panic attack and did a fair amount of damage to her hands trying to get out of the cellar she’d put herself in. Ever since, she’s been extremely wary of any place that is either cramped or doesn’t have a clear exit. This fear likely arises partly from her wolf side. Freedom and the ability to roam are in her blood, and reasonably, that ability being taken away from her would cause agitation. On the other hand, it could be attributed to Hayley’s commitment to survival. She’s spent so long fending for herself that being trapped or unable to save herself sets off a fair amount of alarm bells in her head.

Please Provide At Least One: I’m submitting this on my mock blog! The blog contains what I would like to call a character study. I’ve created a playlist and an aesthetic for Hayley here. I’ve also included a few reblogs that I feel summarize my take on who she is as a character and expand on her traits and personality. All of the things mentioned above can be viewed on the blog itself or can be found in the about link! - Moodboard/Aesthetic - Playlist - Mock Blog

CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE:

How Does Your Character Feel About The Peace Treaty?: Hayley accepts the peace treaty, but her own predispositions make her extremely wary of it. To her, it’s the kind of thing that sounds great in theory but turns to shit when put into practice. Hayley knows that peace is a fickle beast, and as soon as someone feels threatened, it’ll go right out the window. So, while she works to uphold the treaty as a member for the faction, you can bet your ass she has a contingency plan lined up. Hayley doesn’t want to fight, but she’ll be damned if she or her pack suffer because she was too confident in a piece of parchment.

Slice of Life:Hayley spends most of her time in the Bayou. She has a decent sized cabin to call her own, but the girl prefers to be outdoors, even if it is just on the porch. Hayley’s not the type to sleep in, and as a result, she’s normally up early in the day. Hayley goes for a morning run and comes home an hour or so later to shower. After that, she’ll grab breakfast and eat it out on the porch and watch as the rest of the world comes to life. Later, she’ll walk around their community and chat with a few other wolves and see what’s going on for the day. If there’s nothing that needs her attention, Hayley will venture into the Quarter to see what she can see. Whether it’s hanging out at Rousseau’s or down where the witch community congregates, the wolf likes observing. It’s not quite surveillance, but it helps to stay in the know—especially because news doesn’t exactly spread to the Bayou at god-speed. When she’s satisfied with that, she may seek out Derek and ask him to help her train. It also her hope that if she’s with him when dinner time circles around, he’ll cook a portion up for her as well. Seeing as her ability to cook stretches to about boiling water, if she doesn’t have dinner with Derek, she’ll likely pick up something to eat. Her night after her meal typically winds down with a couple of beers and a fire. Hayley doesn’t mind if this time is spent alone or with others, but it gives her a chance to unwind and settle her thoughts before she heads off to sleep.

What is Your Character’s Greatest Fear? How Does This Affect Your Character?: Hayley’s biggest fear is commitment. This isn’t specific to any singular area of her life. The wolf has issues sticking to any one home, friendship, or relationship. This fear stems from her childhood. Being bounced around a system that could care less about her shaped her into a person who learned to anticipate and expect change. Hayley is incapable of trusting that anything good with last forever and will often self-destruct whatever it is before it gets the chance to hurt her. In her mind, settling down is pointless because it will either be taken away from her or scar her even more.

SAMPLE: Removed for Privacy

[margridarnauds]

Berenice, Bianca, Elektra

(Finally getting around to this, woohoo!)

Full Name: Berenice. Gotta love the Greeks for keeping it simple. I have a vague idea that her name might have been something else at some point, but it’s always just “Berenice” or “Berenice of Alexandria” when I’m talking about her. (Funny story, though: The inspiration for her character came from my first Webkinz named Beatrice, so you could count that as an alternative name, I guess. Now read the rest of this entry with that knowledge. Go on, imagine a Webkinz doing all of this.)Gender and Sexuality: Female/Possibly straight (All her love interests have been men, but I also take a Sims approach to sexuality with my OCs so…)Pronouns:She/Her. Ethnicity/Species: About a quarter Persian, three quarters Macedonian. She’d probably be white passing by modern standards, but, considering the way things worked in her time, I’m not sold on her being considered fully “white” by ancient ones.  Birthplace and Birthdate: Alexandria, sometime around 38 BCE. Guilty Pleasures: She’s a full blown Epicurean; she doesn’t have guilty pleasures. The closest thing I can think of is her affair with Bran, but that’s because (1) He’s a barbarian, (2) She was married at the time, and (3) He has *history* with her people, so it was more worry than guilt. She was perfectly happy to tap that; she just wasn’t sure about the fallout. Phobias: Deathly afraid of heights. Is also paranoid over assassination attempts, though, considering her track record, I’d say it’s not so much paranoia as taking the right precautionary procedures. What They Would Be Famous For: She’s one of the most influential, intelligent, and glamorous women of her time, and that makes her both famous and infamous. To her allies, she’s The High Queen and so is held onto this kind of pedestal as the daughter of a respected king who’s kept them from further civil wars since her accession and, later, as a symbol for their cultural continuity even after defeat, as well as a noted patron of the arts and natural philosophy. To her enemies, well… They put every single negative stereotype of women, particularly “Eastern women” onto her, making her into some oversexualized, decadent, vain sociopath who regularly twirls her mustache as she gleefully celebrates the downfall of civilization. (I lean more towards her being a little of both.) Either way, she’s an absolute icon as a ruler, for better or worse. What They Would Get Arrested For: Multiple counts of murder, including murder of at least one minor, treason, and, considering the time period, adultery. That one would actually probably be more likely to have serious consequences than the other two. OC You Ship Them With: Bran. I also lowkey ship her with Eleanor, and if Marcus weren’t so aggressively ace, I’d probably go with it. OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Well, Elektra and Theron certainly gave it their best try, with John Hawtrey and Emma continuing the grand tradition of father-daughter pairs trying to kill her. In the present, Diane is probably her biggest threat, but I don’t think she would really kill her because, on some level, she admires her too much and doesn’t see how much of a threat Berenice is even when she’s been stripped of most of her power. Favorite Movie/Book Genre: She loves tragedies with her favorite, naturally, being Agamemnon. (She’s particularly fond of the ending and might or might not have commissioned at least one writer to write fix-it fic for Clytemnestra’s fate.) I also like to think that, in the modern AU, she has a soft spot for the Sword and Sandal films, the more cringe inducing the better. Yes, including (especially?) “Alexander.” Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Hates black and white morality, especially when it comes to female rulers and how they’re perceived. Like, she knows she’s a monster, she owns up to it, but she’s tired of insipidly sweet princesses triumphing over evil queens. Her take on power struggles like that is that, while they’re inevitable (she killed most of her father’s and her husband’s concubines and children to keep her own power,) they involve the princess transforming into the evil queen, not defeating her. “Virtue rewarded” narratives just don’t appeal. Talents and/or Powers: Very intelligent, witty, and manipulative. She can effortlessly go from one mode to another, adapting her mannerisms to each one. Like all of her people, she has an expanded lifespan, as well as the ability to switch between her animal form and her human one. (Though the animal form is little used by her considering it’s also very conspicuous.) Oh, and she knows, like nine languages. Why Someone Might Love Them: In a time when women aren’t expected to rule in their own rights, she managed to seize power. She has a policy of religious and cultural tolerance, appointing the best people for a given position instead of strictly keeping to Macedonian or even Hellenistic in general citizens. Despite her claims that she’s gone cold over the years, she still obviously has a spot spot for her old childhood companions, showing more of her true self in their presence than she does around almost anyone else. Why Someone Might Hate Them: She’s absolutely ruthless in the measures she takes to keep her power. She’s literally killed babies and betrayed the love of her life to the tender mercies of their enemies. Like, come on. If you’re not ready for that kind of darkness in a character, particularly one who, at least as of this moment, has had no serious repercussions (ie death) for it , that could be jarring. I do think she’s troubled by it in her own way, especially the latter one which completely broke her for a while, but, at the same time…the girl’s dark. I’ve tried to not tone down what royal women of this time did to survive, for better or worse. I’d understand hating her 100%. How They Change: The first half of her character arc (losing her father and brother, taking her revenge out on Theron for their murders, the civil wars that resulted from not having a clear line of succession, marrying her uncle to ensure that she wasn’t swept away by the power struggles, participating in the murder of her half-siblings, having to marry Theron’s nephew, saying goodbye to her childhood friend and protector, throwing Bran to the wolves, and then orchestrating the murders of her husband, his other wives and concubines, and his children by them) is about her essentially having to lose touch with her human connections in order to survive. The second half of it (saving her old childhood friend, helping Eleanor in her rebellion against her brother, devoting a considerable amount of time to Bran’s recovery even when she thinks that he’s never going to forgive her for it, offering Ada a place at her court so that Atria will be happy and then protecting her when her past comes to haunt her, deciding against taking power from Eleanor despite it potentially playing to her advantage) is showing a possible restoration of those connections and the possibility of changing how things are done. I don’t think she’ll ever get a full redemption, because I’m not sure there can be a full redemption for all she’s done, but she gets the closest thing to it that I can imagine. Why You Love Them: She’s basically my love letter to the great Hellenistic queens, specifically Olympias and Cleopatra VII, with traces of the others threading their way throughout her backstory and characterization. It’s an absolute thrill bringing the best and worst of that time to the fray and getting to write someone as complex as her from the beginning of her character development to the end. She’s the kind of female character I’ve always latched myself onto, the ones who have grand schemes and ambitions and who manipulate and scheme their way into fulfilling them (I’ll give you a hint: The first female character I can remember loving was Anck-su-Namun from “The Mummy,” the second was Cleopatra, the third was probably Morgan le Fay) and I finally have the chance to have her run free and do her own thing without having to tragically die at the end. She also makes such a fantastic foil to Eleanor, with Eleanor ultimately deciding not to go down the path Berenice went down despite being exposed to similar traumas, though I don’t think I ever want to see them set up in a traditional protagonist-antagonist way. I prefer the two of them bouncing off each other, one the older, more Machiavellian queen, the other the more humanistic queen, with both kind of drawing closer to each other by the end. 

I just…really love Ber as a character, okay? She’s probably one of my all-time favorites. 

Full Name: Bianca CostaGender and Sexuality: Female, demisexual. Pronouns: She/Her. Ethnicity/Species: White/HumanBirthplace and Birthdate: Since they’ve been magicked off to another world by the Fae, time and dates don’t work the same, but going off of the 1580 starting point, she was born sometime around May 1, 1616 in the New Papal States. (Essentially, where all the Catholic colonists clustered together to get away from the Protestant colonists and the new pope was selected, according to them, by divine revelation.)Guilty Pleasures: SweetsPhobias: ThunderWhat They Would Be Famous For: She’d probably be right up there with Anne Boleyn and Marie Antoinette on the list of popular tragic queens, though, considering she didn’t die, she’d probably be best remembered as Eleanor’s mother. What They Would Get Arrested For: Adultery and treason. OC You Ship Them With: Duncan, happiness. OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Diane. Like with the Ber/Elektra example, she’s certainly tried enough times. Favorite Movie/Book Genre: The old Chivalric Romances are her jam, especially Amadis of Gaul and Lancelot, the Knight of the Cart. She’s not particularly fond of Tristan and Iseult, though. Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Romanticized abuse in any form, especially when it’s claimed by the writers to be “just part of the times.” I can see her viewing session of a *certain* time traveling romance being put on hold shortly after beginning, with her needing Dunc to hold her and reassure her for an hour or so afterwards (at least) that she’s safe with him and he’d never treat her like that. Talents and/or Powers: No real powers that I know of; I’ve toyed with giving her an interest in alchemy, but that comes a little too close to Atria’s whole “natural philosophy” shtick and even though I’m all for more female characters in STEM-like (okay, as close as you can get in Early Modern England) concentrations and even though historically, there were a number of women involved in alchemy, I just don’t feel it as much. I still like the idea of her as an expert horsewoman and hawker, so there is that. I especially like the hawking, as then you have the whole symbolism angle + historical accuracy and that makes me feel good about myself so yeah. In some ways, I think I’m still waiting for her to “click” with me as a character. Why Someone Might Love Them: Like her daughter, she has a great amount of spirit, though, also like her daughter, she’s very subdued in showing it. Years with Giles have only made it worse, but she still keeps fighting for her daughter, despite everything. I often tie a lot of Eleanor into her more distant ancestors, with that whole “Heroic Lineage” thing often coming up, but I think that a good portion of her strength comes directly from her mother. Why Someone Might Hate Them: I can see people hating her for having an affair, despite Giles being explicitly abusive, especially since that affair brought a child into that kind of situation. She and her husband’s illegitimate daughter, Cat, do not get along, and sometimes she can be overly sharp with her as a sort of revenge by proxy. We’re not looking at Snape levels of spite here, but she is supposed to be the adult despite the horrible circumstances both of them find themselves in. How They Change: She started off as this very spirited young woman, optimistic, innocent, and absolutely sure that people were as they appeared. She fully believed Giles when he presented the image of the perfect prince to her, only for him to turn on her after their marriage. Now, that spirit’s mostly gone; she’s more or less sedate. Her faith in humanity is certainly gone, her faith in society even more so as she’s watched them turn a blind eye to what their king’s been doing for the better part of two decades. Duncan, who had helped sustain her in the early years of her marriage, is distant out of fear of the consequences for her if Giles found out. She’s basically become lost from herself after all this time and, with Diane’s treatment of her daughter, it only gets worse from there as her anxiety and guilt preys on her. Like with Ber, I would like to build her up from this point, I would like to see her start to recover and learn to trust again, I’d like to see her relationship with her daughter grow after Eleanor learns the truth of her parentage, I’d like her to forgive herself, I’d like to see her start a new family with Duncan. I’m not sure how much of that I can do, considering I’m feeling a strong tug towards a bittersweet ending for them, probably in the vein of the old Chivalric Romances since so much of their relationship’s already been inspired by them, but I also have a hard time giving any of my ships a bad ending, particularly not the ones like this where both parties have already been through Hell to be together. Why You Love Them: I like that she’s not a perfect mother or a perfect person, that she makes mistakes, that she snaps at her husband’s daughter at times, that she’s catty with his mistress. I don’t like writing paragons, I don’t like writing models of ideal femininity, and she’s certainly not. Writing an abuse victim from a historical angle is very complicated and it’s something that I try to be sensitive about,and it’s one that I’ve tried to take in as realistic a direction as I can, so that is interesting to take on as a challenge. Sobering, depressing, but also interesting, especially dealing with her after Giles’s death when she’s nominally free and trying to rebuild. She’s also a religious minority (Catholic) in a very Protestant country, and seeing how she deals with that is interesting to deal with. 

 THANK YOU for asking about Elektra. When I first put her up there, I wasn’t sure about much besides maybe 1-2 traits. She was a dead backstory character, a little roadblock in Ber’s character development. Now, it looks like we’re together for the long haul. That being said, I kept in all my old remarks + added in some new ones in parentheses as my way of marking the character development. 

Full Name: Elektra (See above about the Greeks and naming and how convenient it makes my life.)Gender and Sexuality: Straight, though, like with Ber, the Sims Rule of Sexual Orientation applies. (HaHahahahaHAA no. Girl’s either bi, pan, or lesbian, with her marriages being a way of keeping power. That was so cute that I used to think she was an evil straight girl.)Pronouns: She/HerEthnicity/Species: White/Shapeshifter. Birthplace and Birthdate: Athens, September 12, sometime around 37-39 BCE. Guilty Pleasures: I like to think that, for all the crap she gives Berenice about drinking unmixed wine *like a barbarian*, she indulges from time to time herself. Berenice knows, of course, and is endlessly entertained by it. Phobias: Honestly, I wasn’t sure about this one, but I think she’s afraid of being abandoned. Like, her father was never a particularly good parent to her, though he sometimes threw her a gift or two, her mother didn’t care for her, and then her father abandoned her mother for a girl her own age. Which is far from the worst thing he did. And I think she takes a lot of that with her in her revenge quest; it’s like she feels that if she can avenge his death, she’ll have the love she’s always wanted and she’ll be able to move on. What They Would Be Famous For: She is, unfortunately, the Cleopatra Eurydice to Berenice’s Olympias, so she is going to remembered either as (a) one of the poor, innocent victims of The Bad Queen or (b) as a necessary roadblock, the “other woman” that got in the way of Ber being happy and who had to be removed. None of these stereotypes are true, she wasn’t innocent but Ber and Arion would never have been happy together even in an Elektra-less world. Her marriage to Arion just sealed Ber’s disgust for him, as she considered it to be a personal betrayal that he married the daughter of the man who killed her father. What They Would Get Arrested For: I mean, attempted murder? She and Ber would probably have to share a cell. OC You Ship Them With:  I don’t know, she’s only with Arion, who’s the closest thing she has to a love interest, for the power and to hurt Ber. (Don’t worry, I figured it out.) I suppose I could ship her and Ber in the right AU. (Incidentally, I’m still down for this.)

Her and Khensa would be an interesting enemies-to-lovers ship, with Khensa being so absolutely devoted to Ber’s success as a queen, Elektra being devoted to tearing Ber down, and both of them having unresolved issues with their fathers’ murders. (Yes, there is a theme here and I’m aware of it. Some people work out their daddy issues by long talks and a lot of therapy, I work it out by inflicting a bunch of dead and/or useless fathers on my characters so they can suffer too.) There could be a lot of great opportunities for hatesex there, and, in a fluffier AU, the possibility for them to work out their issues. When Ber finds out, she’s completely speechless, at first thinking that this is a prank Khensa’s pulling on her and, after Khensa assures her that she’s 100% serious, she probably faints. It takes her an additional three days to process the information, even longer to accept it, and she never fully trusts Elektra, but she realizes the value of having her as a potential partner in Khensa’s spying operations, especially given her own relationship with Bran. (And because Khensa’s too valuable to alienate by ordering the relationship terminated or by having Elektra assassinated, especially since her usual hitwoman’s the one with hearteyes.) The two of them then proceed to pretend to hate each other’s guts during the day so that potential rebels would be drawn to Elektra while making out behind every pillar they can find at night. 

Ah, if only things had been different.  

(Note:This is actually what made me change my mind about her, but it’s so hilarious in hindsight that I’m keeping it all as-is. Khensa x Elektra [Khelektra? Elensa?] is 100% canon. And still angsty because why not.)

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Ber murdering her is (Not!) canon at this point. Alas, poor Elektra. I didn’t know you well and I didn’t particularly like you until having to fill out this meme, but that was a harsh one. (Well, safe to say that’s been scrambled, though Ber’s still the most likely. I mean, it wasn’t for lack of trying.)Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Like Ber, Tragedies. Unfortunately, unlike Ber, who recognizes her role and adapts and learns from it, she refuses to see herself as anything other than the hero in her given story. (Which is why we have characteeeeeeer develoooooopment. And necromancy.)Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: I think “If you kill him you’ll be just like him” has to be near the top. From her point of view, she could never sink as low as Ber has and would bristle at the suggestion that she already has. (Still agree with this.)Talents and/or Powers: She’s a very accomplished witch, having taken up the dark arts recently. As such, she has command over a vast array of powers with the proper ritual, including raising ghosts to do her will. (Believe me, this comes in handy. And is also part of the New!Elektra, in case anyone cares about chronology here.) Why Someone Might Love Them: In another story, she could have been the heroine looking for revenge for her father’s death against an evil queen who puts on a facade to fool those around her and kills her enemies mercilessly. Unfortunately for her, she wound up in the wrong story, the evil queen was just as much a victim as she was, and her father was the reason she started off on that path to begin with. The fact that she was (not!) murdered while she was pregnant only adds to the tragedy, as well as the fact that, unlike with her father, there’s no one left to avenge her. There’s something tragic about it, really. Why Someone Might Hate Them: I never intended for Elektra to be a sympathetic character, so I’d actually be more surprised by people liking her than not. She absolutely refused to listen to the evidence of her father’s guilt, even when it was absolutely conclusive. After she finally accepts that he was a serial killer, she defaults to saying that “It was just whores,” denying his role in the deaths of Ber’s father and brothers and refusing to believe that her father was completely, utterly evil. I actually understand her on this one to some extent (no one wants to believe the man they loved and trusted is a monster + cultural norms regarding prostitutes and their status coming into play,) but I can still see her being labelled “the stupid bitch,” especially given that she made the vital mistake in her final scene of gloating to Ber over her pregnancy. In her defense on that one, she had no way of knowing that Ber’d had an abortion a short while before and the whole situation with Bran (I mean, she knew about it, but she didn’t realize the extent of the mushy feelings involved) and so Ber being unstable enough to just stab her right there wasn’t something she’d calculated in. As I mentioned above, I can also see people misblaming her for the failed marriage between Ber and Arion, with people probably labeling her a homewrecker or a whore (while probably ignoring that Bran is also a homewrecker by those standards), when the crux of the conflict between the two women isn’t over Arion; it’s over power and the cycle of revenge. (Elektra’s father murdered Ber’s father, Ber killed her father, and so now the two of them aren’t going to be happy until all traces of the other are wiped off the face of the Earth.) The fact that they also happened to share a a husband and that he happened to prefer Elektra was just a bonus. 

(Now, with me deciding to have her survive Ber’s little stabbing spree and get a redemption arc, there’s a new set of problems developing, as in any case of redemption. Like, both Ber and Elektra have a casualty count at this point, and any talk of “redemption” is always going to be a polarizing thing.)

How They Change: I think that Elektra’s development is running counter to Ber’s, so that while Ber’s slowly gaining her humanity back, Elektra’s slowly losing it. The measures she takes to get rid of Ber become even more desperate, until she’d probably be willing to kill herself if it could hurt Ber in any way. (Surprise, surprise, now I have her isolating herself from society/separating herself from the figures in her past as being her victory while Ber’s is re-integrating herself/reconciling with the figures in her past, so good call Past!Me)Why You Love Them: There are very few characters who I can say were decent adversaries for Ber and, even though Elektra ultimately lost, she at least gave Ber a run for her money. On some level, I think she more or less becomes the standard that Ber compares later enemies to (”Elektra wouldn’t have done this”). As much as I love Ber, I also love anyone who’s capable of slapping her into the next stage of character development. 

(Also, in the present, the fact that she grows and learns and is able to somewhat reconcile with Ber after everything both of them have done to each other (and team up together to defeat the loser on Ber’s throne) is really cool to see, especially since this is all on her. It’s not really on me; I’d been happy to leave her lying in a puddle of her own blood in a marble room. So, props to her for making me realize what I was missing out on. 

Oh, and she’s a witch. Like, writing a historically accurate Greek witch is everything I ever wanted but didn’t know I needed.)