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envihellbender · 9 months

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The Powers as serial killer avatars? :3c

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Characters: (OCs) Noor Essa, Darja Bič, Aubrey Marsh, Meyer Brody, Roxen Vilatte, Nina Kova / Hazel de la Croix, Devyn Fraser, Bertrand Hardie, Milo de Verley, Jamie Barrett, Aidan McKennon, Sara Bayat, Cora McKenna, Rhiannon Powell,

Content: buried alive, germophobia, fear of the dark, parental abuse, murder, factory farms, arson, suicide, drowning, dolls,

The Buried

Noor Essa is a runaway who lives in the Sahara desert. They are known to the people of Cairo, although considered something of a myth. It is known people go missing, but it is often debated as to whether that is a serial killer, a mystical figure who hides in the tombs, animals, or simply exposure to the elements.

Most refer to them as a graverobber which is not entirely accurate, whilst they encase themselves in the pyramids and tombs they feel most at peace in they never actually take anything from within them. They are horrified at that prospect, they were raised to worship the dead and always find peace amongst them.

Their victims are often historians, thieves, and tourists who’ve gotten lost in the desert. They only come out at night because the daytime is too hot and dangerous in the Sahara. They kill for food, and also bury them by the tomb they currently live in as a tribute to the corpse who is sharing their home with them.

The Corruption

Darja Bič was meticulously clean, everything in her lab was sterilised several times over. That included herself, her skin was permanently a sore pink from how often she’d scrubbed at it. Ever since she’d became apart of the Corruption and those insects had begun to follow her, those worms … it had gotten worse. She was determined to be clean. Healthy. Including the victims she captured.

She wore medical gloves and a mask the entire time she touched them outside of her lab. Her breath was starting to grow short and shaken from the damp that had collected behind the medically certified mask, and her hands grew cracked, easily cut open and often infected. She always came up behind her victim, walking with her coat zipped up to the top and her hood up. She was unapproachable but seemingly harmless, until she injected them in the neck.

It was disease she was fascinated with, she simply despised the worms she had to step on five thousand times a day. She’d always been scared of them bastards and now they were everywhere. Her victims were strapped to her table screaming into their gag and pulling on their steel restraints. Today, she was going inject the handsome young man, with a combination of measles, typhoid, and anthrax.

The Dark

Aubrey Marsh was fourteen when it started. They suppose it was because their father had locked them in the cellar, they always did enjoy the dark so it hardly seemed like the punishment it was supposed to be. Their bedroom was down there now, the mattress in the floor next to the dripping water from the old, creaking boiler. The liquid became darker every day. They didn’t plan on killing their father, but after he’d killed their mother and left the corpse to rot down there with them it seemed only fair. When the creature came to them in the Dark, a promise to take care of them and help kill their father was all too enticing.

When their father came down one day, with a dog dish full of food and a bottle of water, the light switch wouldn’t turn on. He cursed, yelling at Aubrey asking what they’d done now. He should have noticed that it wasn’t the standard dark, it was pure blackness. He should have felt the two thin hands shove him down the stairs, but he didn’t. He hit the stone floor at the bottom without knowing a single thing. Aubrey stood over his corpse, and kicked him in the head. They didn’t think about their mother before they left, the one they’d killed him for.

Aubrey enjoyed dark, damp places, and began living in abandoned factories. Thankfully there were a lot of them on the outskirts of Bradford. Enough that they could stay in them for months at a time, seeing their fair few urban explorers, photographers, and occasional ghost hunters. Aubrey had fun following them, watching them grow anxious as they made their surroundings darker and darker, and had silhouettes follow them around. Leading them to the tall, wooden stairs, barely registering the small thin hands that pushed them.

The Desolation

Meyer Brody had been an arsonist for a long time before the Desolation came to him. It started when he was eight with old mattresses that people abandoned under the flyover. He’d become fixated and snorted with laughter if there happened to be a rodent sleeping in one. He didn’t watch or torture it really, is how he saw it, he was observing the flames. The death of an animal was just a coincidence. It would normally run away, still alight. He soon got bored of this however, graduating to burning down bushes and trees. He found his favourite part was going to them days later to see how they had been completely, and utterly destroyed. That became his new fascination, the flames had grown boring… now it was seeing something be turned to ashes.

It was after his third stint in juvie that he escalated. He was finally home, age sixteen, and his mother was ranting at him for how he was throwing his life away. This time it was her disapproval about how he’d refused to go to Temple with her, but let it go enough to go by herself. She said if his father was alive today he’d know what to do with him. That’s what gave Meyer the idea to go to his father’s graveside that evening, after his mother had locked the door. He snuck out through his bedroom window, and picked the lock to the shed, pulling out some of his fathers old things. A shovel and pick axe. He ended up walking instead of taking his bike.

His original plan was to dig up his father and set alight to the body, but when he saw a group of irritating boys from school there he couldn’t help but feel anger running through his chest. They saw him, shouted antisemitic slurs and called him a freak, as they always did. He wasn’t really thinking when he picked up his shovel, nor when he smacked each one over and over again. The one who tried to run away he didn’t hit quite so cleanly, the metal sliced through his temples, and his shovel slammed through his victim’s skull.

He piled them all in an open grave of his own creation, and of course he set them alight. It became a tradition after that, he’d find people, anyone would do, and watch them burn to death. He wasn’t sure when the Desolation came to him, he supposed it was when he met Jude, and when she introduced him to Agnes. He didn’t have quite the same devotion to her that Jude did, all he could think about was how he’d appreciate what Agnes had far, far more than she did.

The End

Roxen Vilatte could often be found in the corner of the Sweetwater brewery, despite the fact he never ordered a drink no one told him to leave or even paid him any mind. He sat there with a book and a chess set - an ancient, battered thing. People didn’t look at him twice, they either didn’t think anything was odd about this or they simply found him too frightening to ask. The only time anyone spoke to him was to challenge him to a game of chess, he’d smirk and agree, his voice a thick Louisiana drawl. He’d roll up the sleeves of his red plaid shirt and watch his opponent intently, always choosing black. He won, of course. The player would always leave him pale and shaking, as if they’d looked into the face of the devil himself. Strangely enough, not a single one managed to live until the end of the week.

Was Roxen killing them? Certainly. Well. In a sense. You see, they killed themselves he always said. They chose the chess game, they should have known from the strange carvings on the side of the board there was something odd about it. He never forced anyone to play, or even approached anyone for a game. He always waited for them to come to him. The fact he was more clear and inviting to a certain type of person and forgotten by others was a strange coincidence. The fact they all were killed from suicides, despite none having any history of mental illness or suicidal thoughts prior to this was also an odd little connection. Nothing to do with him, of course.

One day, a tall, thin young man with a thatch of red hair and bright green eyes came in, sitting opposite Roxen. He was somewhat known in the town as the strange boy in the old farmhouse who lived with his grandmother. He wasn’t old enough to drink yet but that didn’t stop the bar from serving him a good whiskey and coke. He sipped at it as he sat down challenging Roxen to a game, immediately Roxen did not like the young man. For one thing, he hadn’t chosen to appeal to him - he simply… approached. For another, he was smug, and that was infuriating to Roxen. He accepted the offer against his better judgement, and they played for hours. By the time the what had been the mid afternoon sun had set, the young man proudly declared checkmate - the first one to ever beat Roxen. As he stood astounded, staring at the board the young man simply said: “well, guess I gone an’ escaped death today.”

The Eye

Few knew of Nina Kova, the Dutch immigrant living in Paris, but her professional alias of Madame Hazel La Croix was known all over mainland Europe in the right circles. Her shop was on the river Seine, and came to life at night. Large neon lights declared precisely who she was to anyone who would pass: MADAME HAZEL LA CROIX’S MAGICAL EMPORIUM. Underneath it declared her as a psychic medium who offered one-to-one sessions, groups, performances, and seances, as well as expensive and specialised store of everything from new age to occult to witchcraft related tems. Customers often came from all over Europe, and sometimes further afield, to see her, or buy her stock. She refused interviews and any filmed performances, which increased her credibility to many.

The reason for Hazel’s esteem was how accurate everything she said was. Many sceptics tried to go to catch her out, but they couldn’t deny that when her eyes switched from their soft brown to a bright green and she asked if you had a grandfather named Manuel who died of a stroke and used to take you walking in Per Lachaise cemetery with his dog… it was hard to dispute. Every time she asked a question she had a smirk on her lips as she stared directly into your soul. She knew precisely how accurate what she was saying was. She knew. Sceptics would try to deny it on occasion but they’d splutter and she’d sigh, asking if they could please be honest.

Despite her fame, that did not mean she stopped her hobby she’d developed from childhood. It started with her mother, she’d pretend to give her messages from their dead father, through automatic writing and knocks in the walls. Her mother believed it and quickly Hazel found herself being displayed to leering adults who’d poke and prod and ask intrusive questions. They were happy to use her as a party trick, and despite her hating the whole ordeal she learned to use it to her advantage. Her mother would charge obscene amounts of money, and Hazel tormented her with horrible messages from her father. “He” said how she was a monster who he never loved, how he was having affairs throughout their entire marriage, that she should atone through acts that greatly benefited her daughter. When her mother has been driven mad, Hazel grew bored and decided to have her father declare she should hang herself. Hazel found she could be extremely persuasive, and she never quite understood why. She giggled as she saw her mother hanging. So naturally when she was gifted with the Eye, there was only one thing to do.

The Flesh

People didn’t expect Devyn Fraser to be a vegetarian, they were a chef at a high end restaurant that regularly served meals like veal and foie gras, how on earth could they be? They had a simple answer for that, everyone who eats meat or harms an animal would get what was coming to them. They said with a smirk as the smell of duck and steak filled the restaurant. They’d then laugh, as if it was a joke, setting the everyone around them at ease. As if they weren’t sizing up the man who’d ordered a bloody steak, who joked he wanted it still alive. Or the woman who asked for veal without batting an eyelid. They wouldn’t be eating at the restaurant again, not that they knew it when they left happy and full. Sometimes laughing with their friends or partner. They didn’t see the tall, chubby cook who was watching them intently - already having asked for the customers payment information.

Devyn enjoyed making their victims suffer the way the animals they had a part in killing suffered. The domain of the Flesh was a factory farm after all, and they enjoyed bringing them through the torment until they got bored of the new meat. A customer who ordered the veal, in this case a tall, willowy woman with a button nose and smug expression, was locked in a dark room. It was so small she couldn’t sit up comfortably, she’d been stripped to just her underwear, fed only lard and water through tubes that were pressed through the wall into her mouth. She couldn’t scream, her throat was too dry for that, all she could do was wait and think. She was completely alone with her thoughts, waiting to die, just like the animal she ate.

Those who are the steak got a similar death, in this case a stout man with curly brown hair and a crooked jaw. He awoke completely naked squeezed in a cage with other men like him, he attempted to speak with them but they looked at him with glassy expressions and only spoke in low grunts. Once a day an attendant, a tall, misshapen man, appeared. His torso was bumpy in some places and also oddly thin and lacking any muscle definition in others, his arms and legs had too many joints and bulged out at the wrist and ankles. He injected them all with a strange cocktail of medications, based on the way their chests grew and muscles depleted it seemed to be some form of hormones. Their troughs were filled with slop, and Devyn only came to see them when they walked them to the abattoir, asking if they enjoyed their last meal. They did work very hard on it after all.

The Hunt

Bertrand Hardie arranged the Hunt every year, and it was always quite the success. The attendees were those devoted to his same patron, regardless of whether they were avatars, agents, or his old friends. The Hunt was based on a tradition his great grandfather had created, of taking his friends and those of his class on a gigantic hunting trip once a year. The difference was that they traditionally hunted animals - foxes, rabbits, badgers, moles, and the like. Upon being chosen to become apart of the Hunt Bertrand had took in his stride, he was delighted by the prospect even. It also gave him an idea, the annual Hardie Family Hunt would he reborn, it had last taken place until a few years before Bertrand’s father’s health had declined. After the man’s death and Bertrand’s rebirth it seemed right to bring it back. Only this time, there would be one crucial difference. The prey, game, or whatever you like to call them were people.

The victims were collected in the months leading up to it - often they were captured from the streets, hiking in the highlands, or anywhere else stragglers tended to hang out. It would rarely be Bertrand, he obviously did not lower himself to talk to them directly before he started the game. The agents who picked up the game were charming, offering a kind ear, and in a lot of cases a warm meal and a place to sleep. In Aberdeen itself it was harder, they were more streetwise and on watch there. People actually looked out for each other. That was a problem. It was the outlying towns were no one blinked when a homeless twenty something disappeared. Between the time they were caught and the Hunt, the agents brought them back to the holding cells, as Bertrand called them. In reality it was a large country manor, and each prey was looked inside one of the bedrooms, they were well furnished enough with en-suite bathrooms… but having to ask for help with the slightest thing, such as how they kept the hot water and electricity off unless they requested it. And they needed a good reason.

Bertrand stood on the outskirts of the mountain, the one owned by the Hardie family with manned barriers around the edges to make sure no one escaped. He wore a smart tartan flat cap, a large coat, and held a obscenely sized shot gun. As the Hunt took over his body, his nose and chin grew into something representing a snout, his teeth sharper, and his eyes narrowed. His body grew taller and his muscles developed. He didn’t wait for the beginning of the game to be announced, as soon as he caught the sent of the first human, he ran, fixated and unblinking on the path he needed to take. The game has been released all over the mountain, and now it was their job to find them.

The Lonely

Milo De Verley was a handsome young man, which was not harmed by his soft French accent and thick blonde eyelashes. His eyes were the shade of caramel, and his curls made him look almost angelic. So when he showed up at the house of a victim, claiming to be a long lost nephew, cousin, or perhaps the son of a dear friend, it was hard to accuse the man of lying. He had always fallen upon hard times, and desperately needed a family member or friend. He was polite and threw in a good story which painted him as the victim, and the target as a possible hero. People were eager to help him, and Milo had a type.

His victims all fit the following standards: lived alone, had friends or family visit less than once a month, divorced or widowed, no pets, and a generous income. The latter was the most important for the beginning of his plan. Somehow, when he spoke of barely being able to afford the hotel he was staying in, he’d get talked into spending the night at his target’s. He was family after all (or as good as.) He’d cook them breakfast as a thank you, what a charming boy he wasl. He did all their shopping to let them know he was grateful. In fact, with all his help they barely needed anyone outside their home at all. Soon they became dependent solely on him, they helped Milo, and now he’s as helping them, keeping them drugged and pliant.

When the victims were found, Milo played the teary eyed loved one so well. He seemed heartbroken, going on how they were all he had and the same was true the other way around. None of the deaths were treated as suspicious… which is strange, since every single one of them had an obscenely high level of arsenic in their blood.

The Slaughter

Kutlay Androu’s Battle & Glitch was a rare find these days, so when Jamie Barrett found it in Mega-Bytes, his local retro video game café/shop, he was convinced it was a fake. He remembered the story from his childhood in the nineties, it was all they talked about at St Joseph’s Primary School for a few months and he’d always been fascinated by the story. He didn’t actually know anyone who bought the game, but he saw the advert on TV. The premise was quite simple, it was a fighting game that seemed similar to Streets of Rage but you took advantage of ‘glitches’ in the game to attack your enemies. This could be causing them to be thrown up in the air with their limbs flying off, or zooming through them and causing them to explode. He remembered excitedly discussing it with his friends and begging his parents for the game. They insisted that he’d get it him for Christmas but by then every copy had been recalled from the shelves. Jamie decided whether this game was fake or not, for £6.50 he could take the risk.

The story of the game was that it had been found in the possession of six different mass murders. Jamie remembered them, and they all definitely happened. There was Erin Dunn - a fifteen year old in Dundee who killed eight civilians and six police officers with a hammer from her dad’s tool shed. She was a quiet, studious girl who never raised her voice, she’d never even got into a fight or argument with anyone. She had a good group of friends, a happy middle class home… no one could figure out what would cause her to snap. Then Robbie Turner from Inverness who took an axe to his work colleagues. One day he was a happy go lucky project manager, next he came in and slashed them to bits. The other one Jamie remembered was Breagha Lynch, when they found her at supermarket she stacked shelves at she was sat in her manager’s chair wearing his skin. Normally, this sort of thing would get dismissed as hysteria, but the fact each one played the game for three days straight before each attack seemed too much of a coincidence to ignore. From what the families’ of the killers said, this game hypnotised them for three days. On the third day, they got up as normal, and they had an extreme, intense anger. Erin trashed her living room before storming out of the house, Robbie threw his computer across the room before going on the attack, Breagha was seen chewing on a colleagues arm she’d ripped from their body. Whether it was the cause or not, the games were recalled.

Jamie was practically giddy as he set up his old mega drive, he’d sent a picture of it to a couple of his old school friends. Lyall responded with a few laughing emojis and adding that he better have an axe in hand. Austin on the other hand seemed less amused by it, after an hour or so he replied with a message begging Jamie not to play it. He assumed Austin was joking, but was a little perturbed by how serious he seemed. He decided to ignore it for now, instead setting up his new game. He sat on his floor cross-legged with a large packet of Doritos, grinning from ear to ear as the intro played. It seemed fairly standard, a muscular pixelated protagonist who couldn’t stand still and was surrounded by streets and blood splatters. When the name filled the screen there was a huge crack on the screen that was filled with static and jagged colours that then morphed into the word ‘Glitch’.

After two days, Austin MacKay - an old friend of Jamie’s - was sent an odd text message from him. Simply: “Do you think the Pied Piper had bagpipes?” He wasn’t sure how to respond, so decided to leave it. Another day later was even more peculiar, it was then he received: “it would’ve been funnier if Robbie Turner had played Golden Axe instead”. Austin wanted to phone the police then, but he didn’t have anything to go on other than an urban legend and a couple of strange text messages. Perhaps if he had have done, he thought for a long time afterwards, maybe Jamie wouldn’t driven his car through that shopping mall, driving through as many people as he possibly could.

The Spiral

Aidan McKennon enjoyed people thinking he was a faerie, he supposed it made sense - he grew up Ballymote and whilst it’s not that they believed in faeries exactly… It was that they didn’t test them just in case, and when Aidan became a strange, distorted being of fear… perhaps ‘faerie’ was the closest word most people could think of to describe something like him. Before he changed, he was five foot three, his long black curls went past his shoulders and he’d spent since the first day of his puberty fifteen years trying to hide his breasts and hips. When the Spiral took him, or rather when he happily and willingly ran through the doorway, knowing it would take him from his miserable, isolating life, he did it so that he could grow six inches, flatten his chest, and deepen his voice. Of course his limbs stretched even further, his fingers, arms, and legs. His hands were distorted, his blue eyes had become pits of black, and his hair more like an oil filled mass. Almost like the illustrations of the fae he’d seen, and he fully intended to use this to his advantage.

Aidan wandered around the foggy hills and mountains of County Sligo, tricking walkers and ramblers, and helping them get lost. He’d appeared as mirages, tempting them as a way out, a friendly face, but disappearing causing them to become even more lost in the wilderness. He’d sometimes talk to them, his voice could be a charming lilting tone, or it could be a menacing, angry growl. He switched between the two depending on what the situation called for. He could grow, and shrink. When he was cut or hurt, his wounds leaked moss, and healed over with mushrooms. When he walked, it was as if his legs were tree branches, spindly and rooting themselves into the ground. When it came to the stormy days, with heavy rain and dense fog, he didn’t bother trying to maintain his more human shape, instead he let the rain take care of his leaves and grass that grew in the crooks and folds of his body.

The fear of those lost in the countryside did keep Aidan sated, but every now and then he needed more. It was quite simple, he’d lead a curious tourist to a ring of mushrooms he’d planted - a “faerie ring” they were too stupid to ignore. They’d sometimes take photos, often step inside, and when they did that’s when Aidan would strike. He’d cause them to feel like they were being dragged into the grass beneath them. They’d willingly given themselves to him, and as a result he’d take them to his labyrinth. He’d sit above it, usually hanging upside down and swinging in the railing. He enjoyed watching his Minotaur follow them through it, and observing as they slowly realised the victims were trapped eternally.

The Stranger

Sara Bayat whistled as she put the finishing touches on the dress she was making for her new doll. The template she had drawn was based on the photograph of her mother back in Mashhad when she was a teenage girl. It reached her feet, the fabric a navy blue with gold and silver stars sewn into it. Her hijab was a beautiful silk, a navy that blended into her dress. She spoke to her sewing machine about how good of a job it was doing.

She put the finishing touches on the beautiful blonde curls made of real human hair on the wig she was putting together for the doll. Ever since she first came into contact with Nikola Orsinov she’d had the ability to breathe life into her toys. However, now she didn’t want to speak to people. She just wanted dolls. So there was an obvious, clear solution. She just had to make more dolls. The wig she was creating was based on another photograph on her notice board, a photo of Ingrid Burgman from Casablanca. She learned to make dolls from her mother, her grandparents own a nice little store in Mashhad. A toy store where they made nearly all of the products themselves, Sara had only seen it in photos - like everything in Mashhad. A strange city full of strangers who’s faces only stood out to her form colourful photographs. They weren’t real. None of them were real.

Sara stood proudly in front of her new doll, it was a few inches shorter than she was and slimmer. Sara carefully sewed on the doll’s wig, slapping her when she moved and cried too much. Sara would prick her doll in the scalp with every stitch, seemingly indifferent to the blood that dripped down her neck. Sara kissed her doll’s forehead, humming to herself as she thought of how well this one would fit in with all the others. Her army’s of dolls that would slowly be apart of Nikola’s circus alongside her mannequins.

The Vast

Cora McKenna had another photo printed in National Geographic. She’d gotten to the point where she stopped caring much - it was the fifteenth now after all - but she was particularly proud of this one. Her work had already been creating buzz in the art world, she specialised in underwater photography and had a knack for finding unique spaces. They said her work created a terrifying sense of open, unending dread. A sheer vastness unthinkable by the human mind. This photo had been marvellous, glorious, the best experience of her entire life.

It was deep sea diving in the North Sea with her then girlfriend Shona. Cora had been disappointed with how much Shona had struggled with diving, she complained the whole way there despite knowing how important it was to Cora. When she got there, she insisted she didn’t want to do it, Cora had to practically force her into the diving suit. She was tempted just to push her in, but she knew that would never work. Instead Cora gave her an ultimatum, she can be on the boat alone or come with her. Cora was very careful to highlight all of the things that could possibly go wrong on the boat, causing Shona to make the sensible decision.

Cora was glad she couldn’t hear Shona as she clumsily swam after her. She could sense her unease and anxiety, and was sure she would be complaining the entire time. Still, there was something satisfying and enthralling about how terrified Shona was behind her. Cora couldn’t explain how she knew where to go, her gut dragged her there. It dragged her down into the cave and through the tunnel. Shona tried to tap her many times to signal to her she was concerned but Cora ignored her. Eventually they reached the cavern, where Cora got her photograph.

When she looked up, she couldn’t even see the sky, and she swore that when she turned around the cave had disappeared too. All she was was the glorious empty sea, a gorgeous free landscape of pure water. She closed her eyes and let her limbs hang there as she saved moon ured it, ignoring Shona tugging on her arm. When Cora opened her eyes she saw them, a mass of moon jellyfish beneath her feet. One rose up in front of her eyes, a lone jellyfish against the empty void of sea. She took a glorious photo, the jellyfish barely a foot in front of her face with the mass of water behind her. When she turned round, expecting to see Shona’s excitement instead she was crying, rambling something as if she forgot Cora couldn’t hear her. She sighed and did what she always had to do, she grabbed Shona’s oxygen tube and yanked it out. Smirking as she saw Shona struggle, confusion and betrayal in her eyes as Cora saw her process that she was going to die alone in a gigantic sea of nothingness. Her body would be stuck there forever. When Shona drifted off Cora sighed, this was the eighth girl she’d brought here. It was a shame no one appreciated it like she did.

The Web

Rhiannon Powell was very good at her job, she worked for her local church in Beaumaris and volunteered for the mental health hotline. She was easily the most asked for whenever anyone had a request, the young woman worked the night shift mostly, and did so without expecting a single thing in return. She had a bright smile, blonde hair tied back in a sensible ponytail and wore jeans and a blouse every day. She was often alone, meaning when she was actually there she had the power to do and say whatever she liked. The Chaplin trusted her to do her best, and after all, so many of their callers asked for Rhiannon personally, as she’d helped them before. Of course, he wasn’t wrong… He simply didn’t realise that what Rhiannon considered her best wasn’t quite what he predicted.

The brilliance of the phone line is that it was completely anonymous, if the caller wished to tell the operator their name that was fine but meant Rhiannon suddenly was not interested in them. If they didn’t have a name, no identifying features then they were the perfect prey. She would always start of the same way, a bright “hello, love, how can I help?” She had a way of setting the customer at ease, after a few moments of small talks and getting down to the real problem Rhiannon would say something along the lines of: “Well, if you really want your partner to understand how you’re feeling perhaps you need to show them. A few scratches on the wrist is easy to ignore, you half conscious in a bath tub of your own blood is much more difficult.” In her sweet voice it sounded gentle, encouraging, and as if it was coming from their mother.

She always kept up with each of the suicides, she felt a string of her web pull her towards each person she spoke to. Sometimes she visited those who were still alive, she nipped in for a cup of tea and add a cheery “well, since your still alive you can’t have been feeling that bad. Thank goodness.” Knowing full well it will send them into a spiral of self doubt. She gave advice about taking care of knives to keep them sharp, the best medications to take for overdosing, and a few affirmations to repeat about how selfless and pure suicide was. She had managed to help 220 callers commit suicide after all, and she was still adamant to keep adding to that total and not let any of them escape her.

#envi writes #the Magnus archives #tma the buried #tma the corruption #tma the dark #tma the desolation #tma the end #tma the eye #tma the flesh #tma the hunt #tma the lonely #tma the slaughter #tma the spiral #tma the stranger #tma the vast #tma the web

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bladedalchemistreplica · 7 months

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Care to give us any silly things?

silly things to come!

Romelle, when meeting the freedom fighters, is like a kitten following its mother. Romelel is constantly beside one of the fighters or at least in viewpoint. this is mainly because she wants to gain their trust in the best way possible. However, it does place her into a few predicaments.

The girl can cook, but since she truly wants their trust, she'll commonly drop what she is doing to stay in their eyesight. Which results in either burned, spilled, or ruined food. Eventually, she is told she's fine being alone. [[which greatly relaxes her and also stops the food from being ruined.

Kova is a cat. As all cats will be...he bats or knocks items off surfaces. With reason or, mostly, no reason for the action taken. Alfor has tried to tame the feline from doing this but for the most part, it is the feline's universal behavior. Sometimes he will do it to blame someone else and make an exit or hide extremely well.

Kolivan has the odd habit of knocking items off his own desk. In private of course, it's not something anyone else has ever done besides in childhood or in general anger or irritation. Kolivan just does what he does for seemingly no reason. It's only known because Kolivan didn't let Regris set fire to one of the unoccupied galra drone ships.

The blade's leader could have been Antok. Could have been, only if Kolivan hadn't pinned him down and kept him like that for half a day to prove a point. However, their relationship has stayed strong as it has now even after that.

#//IT IS KNOWLEDGE OR DEATH__Kolivan #//LAST LULLABY__Romelle #//THEIR ARCHIVES__Muse intell #//GREAT GRAY BEINGS ASK__#//ANSWERED__

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murder-and-mayhem · 1 year

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Rhyssa? 18. What is your character’s relationship with their parents/the people that raised them? 12. Who had the most negative impact on your character’s life?13. Who had the most positive impact on your character’s life?

Thank you so much for these!! I've been wanting to explore more of Rhysaa's character so this made me super excited! Questions came from this post.

18. What is your character's relationship with their parents/the people that raised them?

Rhysaa's relationship with her parents is fractious to say the least. It's been years since they've spoken to each other, and that isn't going to change any time soon. Rhysaa was raised in a very isolated Mirialan colony on the planet Vallt. The colonists--her family included--separated themselves from Mirial shortly after her birth in order to follow a very strict, minimalistic lifestyle with cult-like dedication to the Force. When Rhysaa turned 14 and still hadn't manifested a connection to the Force, she was deemed Force-null and seen as an inferior by the colony...including her own family. Essentially, she became a second-class citizen. She couldn't own property or land, she couldn't marry or have a family, and she couldn't fraternize in any way with anyone outside of her caste. Rhysaa eventually said fuck that and left the colony, slipping on board a smuggler's ship during a rare supply drop. She never looked back.

12. Who had the most negative impact on your character's life?

Besides the entire colony she was raised in? A crime lord and slaver from Nar Shaddaa named Tusim. Tusim the Hutt was small-fry in the grand scheme of things, but he had enough pull in his little side of Nar Shaddaa to make a lot of people miserable and afraid. When Rhysaa left the colony on Vallt, she ended up getting robbed of the few paltry belongings she'd managed to scavenge and dumped on Nar Shaddaa. Rhysaa was stuck in Hutt space with nothing to her name and zero understanding of how the galaxy worked. She ended up getting caught stealing from Tusim while trying to survive, and suddenly she found herself working to pay off a debt that accrued interest faster than she could pay it off. She worked as an indentured servant for Tusim for years, hunting down the poor bastards who'd offended him in one way or another. He'd gained quite the reputation because of her before she broke free. While he's partially responsible for helping to hone her hunting skills, she wasted a lot of good years enslaved to that slug.

13. Who had the most positive impact on your character's life?

Kovapaqe, her riduur and her partner in crime. Before she met Kova she felt stagnant. Life had no meaning and held no joy, even though she was really good at hiding it. She just moved from one bounty to the next, collecting her credits like a robot. The moment she met fought Kova in that cantina it was like she'd finally come back online. He breathed new life into her and she doesn't know (or even like to think about) what she'd do without him.

Pinging @certified-anakinfucker here because Kova is her kingpin that I'm absolutely completely normal about ❤

#character asks #eliza answers #oc: rhysaa #my oc #swtor oc #oc asks #swtor #star wars #star wars the old republic

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certified-anakinfucker · 1 year

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7, 11, 12, 21, 33, 34, 41, 45, 51 - For my favorite Kingpin, Kovapaqe 💖 (I picked a lot so you don't have to answer them all if you don't want to 👉🏻👈🏻)

HI ELIZA!!! look at the two of us. taking solid months to ponder our blorbos

(from the weirdly specific asks)

7: What would you (mun) yell in the middle of a crowd to find them? What would their best friend and/or romantic partner yell? As mun - KOVAPAQE IS AN EGGHEAD (to which he will whip around and yell 'THE FUCK?')

His best friend - The hunter Unihmawa, or better known as the Cavern Maw, uses a call and response tactic. "Kala 'kolo kuuwa?" → "Siiirok!" (It should be noted that failure to respond is allowing a full-scale search and rescue op.)

Rhysaa - All she has to say is his name, or any pet name they share. He will materialize out of thin nothingness to be at her side.

11: If someone was impersonating them, what would friends / family ask or do to tell the difference? Kova's neat trick is how most of his nervous ticks are done physically behind his back, or they are otherwise hidden by his armor. Worrying this hands behind his hand, clenching and unclenching his jaw/grinding his teeth under his helmet, balling his toes up in his boots. You'd have to strip him bare just to be able to tell.. and only the real Kovapaqe would agree to do that. A pretender would only know his fiercely murderous Kingpin bravado, refusing to bend for any force, responding to insolence with violence.

12: What's something that makes them laugh every single time? Be specific! Remembering the time he laughed at Rhysaa for wading hip-deep into a mud pit to retrieve her escaped jetpack.. and then in order to escape a particularly angry mama, he had to run chest-deep into the same mud pit. Number one event of make Kova start cracking up uncontrollably every time it crosses his mind - he swears he still hasn't been able to clean out all that muck ever since.

21: What common etiquette do they disagree with? Do they still follow it? He doesn't think Hutts should be bowed to, as they've done no real work to earn their keep as a fat fuck up on a throne. They're just scheming and conniving, using other bodies for their bidding. But sure, he plays along, though he makes it very clear he is unhappy about it.

33: How do they greet someone they dislike / hate? You're not even getting a basic hello, he's just going to stare at you with all the contained malice of a blood borne predator. He will not make any effort to make you feel welcomed; as a matter of fact he is wishing he could be a Sith so he could telepathically scream at you to get the fuck out before he reduces you to mince meat.

34: How do they greet someone they like / love? Keldabe! Strong handshake/grasping forearms! Throwing shit at you because NO FUCKING WAY IT'S BEEN TOO LONG! Lots of loudness, cursing, he's standing on top of something just to be bigger than you but it's all fun and games!

41: What phrases, pronunciations, or mannerisms did they pick up from someone / somewhere else? He speaks Mando'a with a distinctly Kaasi-accented base; his Finder is a Force-null Pureblood who was exiled from their family.

And since Buir raised him from just months old, he's picked up: their ferocity in battle, absolute view of disrespect as a killable offense, passion and fervor for all things in life, a slightly guttural take on Basic pronunciations. He learned his metalworking and piercing skill from Buir.

45: What's something unimportant / frivolous that they hate passionately? By the fucking stars he cannot stand Hutts. Literally the Hutts. He fucking hates Hutts. Most of everything they stand for included.

51: What's a phrase they say a lot? "HUT'UUN!" to get all the ripe little cowards out of hiding so he can beat their asses.

#cheeri inquires #cheeri ocs #i need a swtor tag #oc tag | [kovapaqe / bloodhound / kingpin]

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kiskaethea-amastacia · 2 years

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𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐀𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬.

JOHN KEATS.

the lavender in sunsets, flowers in the rain, sunlight slipping through clouds, lazy summer afternoons, the heavy scent of musk, flickering candlelight reflecting off the gold titles of books, fireflies on a cool summer night, being wrapped in fresh bed sheets, the ache of wanting what you can never have, dripping sunlight like gold, loving someone so exquisite, soft lips and soft whispers, fingers through hair, names of lovers carved in trees, broken glass, the insistence of being perpetually dreamy.

F. SCOTT FITZGERALD.

crisp winter skies with cold bright stars, mahogany wood, the solitude of an early autumn morning wrapped in fog, empty bottles on stacks and stacks of books haphazardly placed in a messy room, bruised arms reaching out into the darkness, cigarette smoke just barely hiding the scent of alcohol, a wall of books all poetry and old and weathered, the way tragedy strikes in your heart but ends up stopping your breathing for a moment, your favorite sweater, parties spilling into four a.m. with the stars above spinning and dancing, the contrast of blood against snow, a purple split lip oozing blood, black eyes fading to blue to pale skin, the butterflies of falling in love for the first time, the statues falling apart over time in cemeteries, the romanticization of self-destruction.

FRANZ KAFKA.

the weight of dread that sits heavily in your stomach when thinking about the future, decrepit houses cloaked in mystery from children telling stories of people who died there, the way not even light can escape a black hole, the rich smell of old books, delicate veins in the wrist, ghosts filling lungs, shattered bones, raindrops on the tongue, rusting metal, nostalgia that aches, the way hope feels like a plastic bag over your head.

H.P. LOVECRAFT.

the anxiety felt when staring into an unknown cave, pouring rain and mud, a child’s fear of the dark, thinking so many questions about your existence as you stare at the vast expanse of never-ending ocean, the silence of three a.m., ouija boards and urban legends.

JACK KEROUAC.

the brisk pine air of being on a mountain, travels without a destination, those nights where you’re missing three hours of memory, screaming to a lifeless desert about how you’re so alive, coffee shops late at night, car rides at night spent speeding and laughing in the dark, naps spent in the sun, novels highlighted and underlined with notes and epiphanies in the margins, the way uncertainty sits on the shoulders, ignoring flaws and loving life, wind through hair, depression as fog in the brain, impossible ideals, a quiet sunrise, walks alone, when you think about trying to discover all the secrets to the universe, dazzling people, open lands stretching out into infinity, falling in love with being alive.

EDGAR ALLAN POE.

the ocean’s horizon inseparable from fog, hollow bones, a preserved heart held in hands, twinkling stars above an old graveyard, the way everything turns to dust, silent black birds with eyes full of wisdom, self-inflicted flames, perfection depicted as a rotting corpse, death as bricks in the heart, lips barely brushing against each other, glassy glazed eyes, biting into a lemon, heart-shaped bruises, rotting flowers on a grave, dried blood and spilled liquor, the hush of dusk when it begins raining, the intimacy of a secret.

@asterion-antonakis

@kova-rembright

#bold what applies

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asterion-antonakis · 2 years

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flower aesthetics

bold what applies to your muse. italics for somewhat.

❀ Daisy: Wears their heart on their sleeve. Soft voice. Minimalistic clothing. Laying in a field of tall grass. Walking barefoot. Puts other people’s happiness above their own.

✿ Bellflower: Very consistent friend. Happy face with sad eyes. Careful touches. Hiding a blush. Light giggles. Makes friends easily. Knows how to make you smile.

❀ Bleeding Heart: Hopeless romantic. Still laughs at dirty jokes. Believes they can change the world. Caring looks. Dyed hair. Kisses on the cheek.

❀ Protea: Proud. Big gestures. African heritage. Blushes easily. Tries to look tough but is really just a big softie. Content where they are. Doesn’t love easily, but always deeply.

✿ Moonflower: Knowing smiles. Doesn’t open up easily. Late night. Tired eyes. Soft skin. Not as innocent as they seem. Loose clothing.

✿ Sunflower: Big smiles. Always looking for the positive. Lots of friends. Warm afternoons. Basking in the sun. Stares off into space a lot. Sitting in comfortable silence.

❀ Dandelion: Wishing for the impossible. Shooting stars. Light breezes through their hair. White clothing. Whispered secrets. Far off looks. Kind eyes.

@kiskaethea-amastacia

@kova-rembright

#tag games #bold what applies

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libraryinthecountry · 2 years

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★ Who are your favorite fantasy romance authors? I have so many! Bow Before the Elf Queen by @authorjmkearl is great for fans of Elise Kova, Sarah J. Maas, and Audrey Grey! Inspired by the Hades & Persephone romance and magical world of The Lord of the Rings. Description: In hiding all her life, Layala prepares for the day the wicked Prince Thane will come to steal her— his mate. She trains to take her revenge for the execution of her parents, who dared defy the high elf king. That day arrives, forcing her to come face-to-face with what she’s hidden from: a mysterious, dark-haired elven warrior determined to marry her. After she’s shoved into a black carriage pulled by six ominous steeds, Layala makes plans to take her captors’ lives and free herself ... ...but Thane has a secret that makes it impossible for Layala to assassinate him. She has an even darker truth that makes loving her forbidden, no matter how much Thane wants to touch. I am also working with the author and @bookofmatchesmedia to offer a giveaway! Keep reading to see how to enter: ★★ GRAND PRIZE // - Copy of Bow Before the Elf Queen - $20 Amazon gift card ★ TO ENTER // - Must be following me, @authorjmkearl and @bookofmatchesmedia - Like, comment, save this post & tag 1 bookish friend ★ EXTRA ENTRIES // - Share giveaway in story for 24hrs tagging @authorjmkearl and @bookofmatchesmedia - Tag 3 friends in a comment (up to ten times per post) - Search #BowBeforeTheElfQueenlTour and enter the giveaway on the other posts every day through May 13th, for more chances to enter ★ RULES // - Giveaway ends May 13th, 2022 at midnight PST - Open US + Internationally - Not affiliated with Instagram - Must be 16+ or have parental permission to enter - Must be a public account to verify entries - Do not follow to unfollow later ★ HASHTAGS // #bookstagram #bookphotography #instareads #bookobsessed #booksbooksbooks #beautifulbooks #prettybooks #goodreads #bookhoarder #bookhoarder #bibliophile #fantasybooks #booksofig #romantasy #fantasyromance #bookstack #shelfie #bookcart #tbrcart #bookshelf #JMKearl #BowBeforeTheElfQueen #BowBeforeTheElfQueenSeries #BOMMtours #BOMMIndieAuthors #BookOfMatchesMedia https://www.instagram.com/p/CdWJtr2piJP/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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ilopisara · 14 hours

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26.04. 22:49 | Ilo Pisara vs Kova Lagi 2 - 3

Oh, Ilo Pisara, where do I even start? Our latest escapade on the ice was like watching a group of penguins trying to fly—ambitious but ultimately futile. We faced off against Kova Lagi and came up short with a scoreline that read more like a tragic comedy: 2-3. Teppo Winnipeg, our puck-moving defenseman, tried to carry the team on his back with two assists. His effort was commendable; too bad hockey isn't scored on effort alone or we'd be champions by now! Yuri Tarde passed around responsibility almost as much as he did the puck—with an impressive pass percentage but zero shots on goal. It's not hide-and-seek, Yuri; you're allowed to shoot! Macho Fantastico lived up to half his name - 'Fantastico' because he netted both our goals, 'Macho'? More like 'Much-oh no', given those 12 giveaways. As for Ahti Meli and Jani Saari... let's just say if they were aiming for invisibility on the ice—they nailed it! Our powerplay had all the potency of decaf coffee—zero goals in five opportunities! If this game were a movie, it’d be called "Gone with the Win" because that’s exactly what happened. Remember folks: Rome wasn’t built in a day… but at least they weren’t using hockey sticks for tools.

#nhl24

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annoyinglyjovialbird · 4 years

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Voltron: Next Generation

Eventful Days: III

Word Count: 2937

Caleb had turned around to lift his hands in mock surrender. There was no way for him to see what had happened.

Two soldiers, dressed in identical gray armor with purple insignias on the front chest plate, had taken Caleb by surprise. One of them knocked the butt of their weapon into Caleb's back, holding him down at gunpoint. The other had charged towards Kova, still sitting in the cruiser. With a boost from her jet pack, Kova had jumped away from the soldier chasing her. Unfortunately, she couldn't see inside the screen of the helmet, but they could see her. The crew onboard the Galra ship took quick pictures to send to their Emperor.

While Captain Scars-a-lot had said he would get the girl, he never specified which. He had only assumed. Even now, he wasn't sure that she was the girl.

"Captain," A voice from the doorway said. The Captain turned, already growling at the wormling who would have to grovel at his feet for interrupting him, but the threats quickly died on his tongue. The broad-shouldered man strode to the helm where the live feed of the soldiers' helmet cams was rolling.

"My Emperor." The Captain bowed his head, placing a closed hand over his heart. "I was not aware of your presence."

"If your men are incapable of handling her," The Emperor said, staring at the wincing Captain. "I will not hold it against you." The Captain's eyes opened in surprise, expecting a threat.

"She is but a little girl." The 'little girl' had come out of her initial shock and summoned a shield, pushing the soldier away from her. With a backflip and an assist from her jet pack, she had landed just behind the other soldier and beat them away from the young man they were holding down. With both soldiers barely standing and the boy out of commission for a while, the girl summoned her bayard. It formed into a long, curved sword.

"That 'little girl' is Paladin of the Black Lion," The Emperor crossed his hands behind his back. "Her skills in combat are almost unrivaled, by human or otherwise."

"Who could rival her?"

"The young man your soldiers beat to the ground." The Emperor's smile, the only thing not covered by a dark shadow, had grown across his face. "And he's only there because he was caught by surprise."

Back on the space rock, Kova was shielding Caleb from above while glaring at the pair of Fire soldiers. Caleb, on the other hand, was trying to blink away the double vision. Groggily, Caleb lifted his head, taking out his bayard in return. Balancing it precariously on his knee, Caleb aimed and fired. He didn't know which of the three small soldiers he had hit, but he hit one of them.

"Jax to Coeus, I need assistance." Caleb fired another shot, missing the smaller soldier by a few inches. "Repeat, Jax to Coeus, I need assistance."

"Coeus to Jax, we hear you." Activating her helmet cam to show the bridge what she was seeing, Caleb fired one more time. He had hit the smaller soldier directly in the chest plate, sending them back with a scream. The taller one of the two, the one that had come after Kova, hadn't been deterred by this. Instead, he sped up. Kova's shield had blocked the soldier from attacking her head-on, but it took away protection from Caleb. As the tall soldier landed in a crouch, he grabbed Caleb's leg and pulled. With almost no effort, Caleb had been thrown to the other side of the cliff. Kova honestly didn't want to stab someone today, but if she had to. The sword in her hand glinted dangerously, much to the soldier's dismay. With bold, almost clean strokes, Kova lowered her shield, grabbed the handle of the bayard, and swung at the soldier. He jumped away, thinking he had jumped away just in time, evading Kova's erratic swings. He took one last jump backward before getting his head knocked on by a rock in Caleb's hand. Turning around, Caleb and Kova were back to back as the smaller soldier ran around them in circles, pushing them further from the edge.

"Locate the Galra ship." Kova was panting.

"Liz."

"On it." Liz had busily been typing away codes for each of the cameras on the outside of the Coeus. There was nothing but deep, dark, and lonely space around them. "I don't see anything, Colonel."

"Keep trying." Shiro had summoned the other teens and Kenny into the bridge when Kova's plea came through. "Hang in there. Remember your summer training sessions."

"This isn't desert sand being thrown in our faces, Dad," Caleb muttered. "It's space rock dust that refuses to fall completely."

"Oh, hello there," Kova said, her bayard morphing again. It changed into a sharpshooter rifle, similar to the one Uncle Lance had taught her to use a few years back. Aiming, Kova found the body of the smaller soldier and fired. The soldier fell to the ground as Kova's bayard returned to its original form. "On the count of three, jump out. Ready?" Caleb nodded his head behind her and steeled himself.

"One?"

"Two."

"Three!" The pair shouted at the same time, jumping out of the dust cloud. Kova was apprehensive, searching around the hole for anyone else. She had noticed the soldiers were gone, but it didn't put her at ease.

"Gah!" Caleb's voice. Directly behind her. Turning around, Kova could only glare.

Caleb was held in a chokehold with his hands pressed into his back by someone else. The man had dark brown eyes and dark hair that bordered on black. The man's pale arms were exposed in a sleeveless gray vest and tight dark gray pants tucked into calf-length boots. As he turned up to stare the girl, he made sure Kova saw the sharp fangs in the man's exposed smile. Switching hands on her bayard, Kova held it up as it morphed again. It elongated vertically to form a longbow. Pulling the string back, an arrow made of purple quintessence had formed.

The teens onboard the Coeus were on the edges of their seats, hoping the audio wasn't as bad in quality as the video. Neither Shiro nor Kenny could make out the face of the strange man holding Caleb captive.

"What do you want?" Kova growled, glaring at the man with intensity. Liz glanced at Shiro before looking back. Kova knew this guy?

"Oh, come on now," The man said much too casually for Kova's taste. "I'm just seeing what I was replaced with. No need to throw a fuss."

"Let. Him. Go. I won't ask again."

"I'm sure." The man's smile never wavered, even when the quintessence arrow created a dent in the wall just behind his head. Kova pulled back the string, another arrow forming.

"That was your only warning."

"You're no fun, Ky." The man grabbed both of Caleb's cheeks and turned this face towards his own. "Tell me the truth, is she always like this?" Caleb didn't respond. With an exasperated sigh, the man turned to meet Kova's glare. "I have every intention of letting him go."

"Then do it."

"I will." The man shifted on his foot. "As soon as you answer a burning question of mine."

"No."

"Then say goodbye to your so-called brother."

"You wouldn't dare." Kova aimed at the man's head. Caleb knew Kova's aim was good, but that was on Earth. How good would quintessence arrows hit him in zero gravity? The man froze behind Caleb, studying Kova's movements.

"How about a proposition?"

"No."

"Oh, come on, Ky. You'll like it."

"Stop calling me that."

"You can ask me your question first if you'd like." The man's toothy grin returned, watching Kova try not to have a brain aneurysm. She stood unwavering for a few minutes, thinking carefully. "She always did this," the man whispered to the teen in his clutches. "Think so hard, her brain explodes from the pressure."

"If you are who I think you are," Kova started her question and the man perked up. "Are you the leader of the Fire?"

"Aww, I knew your question would be carefully worded like that." The man, who had been resting his head on Caleb's shoulder stood to his full height, showing off two long scars on his cheeks. "I am who you think I am, and I am Emperor Yorak of the Fire."

On the Coeus, Shiro slammed his fist onto the face of the console at the helm, making everyone jump. Kenny was startled, but he couldn't tear his eyes from the screen. Soon enough, every teens' eyes returned to the screen. To Kova's encounter.

Kova was shaking her head, wrinkling her nose. Yorak, as they had come to find out, was tilting his head to the side, almost as though he was trying to figure out what Kova was doing. Caleb tried shaking himself free from Yorak's grasp, but it was instead tightened.

"Little Ky doesn't know what to do now that her greatest fear was confirmed," Yorak said mockingly.

"Stop calling me that!" Kova all but shouted. "What's your question?"

"Finally." Yorak overdramatically sighed and rolled his eyes. "My question is simple, Kyla." Kova sneered, almost near tempted to fire again.

"Kova, don't," Caleb whispered, hoping he could hear her.

"Yes, Kyla, listen to your so-called brother." Kova stayed silent, trying to press down her anger. "Tell me, Kyla. Have you forgiven our dear old parents and me for leaving you behind and alone?"

Kova thought she was prepared for the question. She thought she could handle it, but knowing Kenny was onboard and listening made it harder.

Pulling back the string harder and letting it go, the arrow flew towards Yorak's stupid smiling face as he let go and pushed Caleb forward. Beaming himself up, he wasn't around to see Kova's internal and soon physical struggle as she collapsed onto her knees.

Yorak had arrived in his private chambers as the Captain looked on. The quintessence arrow hit its mark, leaving a small slice on Yorak's right cheek.

"My Lord!" The Captain had been watching the entire exchange. "I'll have soldiers deployed immediately! The girl should have answered your question!"

"There's no need, Seklok," Yorak said, wiping the blood from his cheek. "This was answer enough."

"But my Lord—"

"Are you questioning me?" Yorak had turned to look down on the Captain, who had bowed his head.

"No, milord." They stood there for a few seconds. Seklok, or Captain Scars-a-lot, whichever you prefer, was afraid the Emperor would punish him for disobeying orders.

"Leave me be."

"Yes sir." Quicker than space mice afraid of the light, Yorak was alone. At least he had the satisfaction of breaking her down.

The Lions had returned to the Coeus, and all Kova wanted to do was sleep. She was walking with a limp because unbeknownst to her, Caleb hadn't properly set up his weapon. The pushback had fallen entirely on Kova's knee, which the initial adrenaline had numbed.

"Kova, Caleb." Shiro's stern voice came from down the hallway. "In my quarters. Now."

Following Shiro, the door closed behind them. The room they had walked into was a room the teens had just passed by since it was in the way of the bedroom. Set up like his office back home, Shiro stood behind the console that stood in for his desk and laid his hands on it. Staring at the teens, he was trying to find a point to start his tirade.

Outside the closed doors, the other teens had their ears pressed into the crack, hoping to pick up on some sort of conversation. Allie thought it was strange, but she joined right in. Kenny hadn't moved from the chair in the bridge, staring ahead blankly and no one wanted to bother him while he was lost in thought.

"Where do I even begin?" Shiro began. There were no chairs, so the teens were forced to stand. Kova had her head bowed while Caleb was staring at a spot in the wall. "You can't just decide that you can pick and leave without informing me first. I had to find out from Ken. What would've happened if I hadn't responded to your call in time?"

"Dad, can we—" Caleb tried to say.

"I don't ask for much. Just to be informed is enough, but then this bombshell happens." Shiro turned to Kova's bowed head. "How are you going to explain this one away? It's one thing to disobey my orders, but it's another if you don't deny what he said."

Kova mumbled something under her breath, leaving Caleb wide-eyed. Turning her head up a little, Shiro could see Kova's eyes were closed.

"What was that?" Shiro fed into the anger she was trying to control.

"Open the classified trio," Kova said, opening her eyes. Caleb could swear that you could've heard a pin drop if there was one.

"No." Shiro's voice was a warning.

"I told you before, this team won't fight against an enemy they know nothing about."

"Why do you need the files opened? What's your evidence?"

"What more evidence do you need?" Kova scoffed. "Keith is alive after all these years, Yorak is Emperor of the Fire, and this marks our third Fire attack." Kova's voice grew louder with every word, with more power than the last.

"Those files are classified for a reason!"

"And the team should've been informed from the start!"

"Opening the trio will expose too many loose threads."

"And opening only one will lead to forcibly opening the others!"

"Kova, I'm not opening any of the case files."

"He called me out by birth name. Did you let me stare at his picture for fun?"

"Kova."

"Opening the trio will do us more good than harm. We'll know what we're looking for."

"You were allowed to look at the files because you're my kids."

"Oh, so not because I'm part of the problem?"

"You aren't part of the problem."

"Then authorize. The opening. Of the files." Even limping, Kova didn't lose her attitude. Shiro didn't appreciate it as much.

"I'm your dad. This is for your safety, Kova."

"It's a good thing I'm not even your kid then!" Caleb clapped a hand over his mouth watching as hurt filled Shiro's eyes. Kova had looked away from his eyes, knowing she'd break otherwise. She was breathing hard. The teens outside had looks of shock on their faces. No one said a word for a good minute. The constant hum of the ship filled the void, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to drown out the voices of the past.

"Kova," Shiro began.

"Open the case files," Kova muttered, refusing to meet Shiro's eyes. "Cake needs to know what happened to his dad." She looked up to meet Shiro's eyes, fighting back tears. "Kenny needs to know what his brother got into." At the mention of Kenny, Shiro shook himself out of his stupor.

"I am not authorizing the release of the trio."

"Give the team the full authorization," Kova's threat began. Her fists were balled at her sides. "Or officially expel me from the Garrison."

Outside the doors, Cake and Liz audibly gasped under their breath. Allie was shocked too but confused at the reactions of the others. Liz, who had been listening from above Cake's head, pushed herself away from the door. Cake met her eyes and nodded her understanding. An unspoken agreement between the engineers. With a deep breath, Liz calmed her thoughts and returned her ear to the door.

"One way or the other, I'm telling them." Kova hadn't moved. Neither had Caleb, who was frozen in place at Kova's ultimatum. Shiro's eyes widened briefly before he sighed and broke his gaze from Kova.

"To your rooms. We'll reconvene in the morning." Shiro watched as the teens walked towards the door and left.

Liz, Cake, and Allie had ducked to either side of the doorframe, hoping the Colonel wouldn't see them. Kova and Caleb marched past them without a word, nor any sort of acknowledgment they were there. Kova looked angrier than any of them had ever seen her. In a rash attempt for some sort of information, Liz grabbed Caleb's arm before the pair entered their respective rooms. Caleb's baby blues met Liz's brown ones and she visibly became more flustered.

"I'm sorry, Cap, I just, uh," Liz looked on in a wide-eyed stare. A shake of her head and the words came more smoothly. "We had a few questions." Caleb sighed, leaning on the doorframe outside his room. Kova had already gone inside.

"Is her threat real?" Cake asked, and Caleb's shoulders sagged. He nodded, resting his head on the wall.

"Will those files help us defeat the Fire?" Liz asked. Caleb nodded again. Allie knew it was her turn, but she couldn't think of a good question. Not when Caleb looked exhausted.

"Will the opening of the files delay our arrival at the space mall?" She asked. Caleb could only stare at her, lifting his head. He smiled and let a small laugh escape. He shook his head. Pushing himself off the wall, he waved at the other teens and walked into his room. Allie, Cake, and Liz stood in the hallway. When they left, Allie insisted on taking the first shift. Between her and Liz, they should be able to care for Keith until he wakes up from this coma, taking a few hour shifts.

If he ever wakes up.

#voltron: next generation #kovalia shirogane #caleb shirogane #liz griffin #allie smythe #cake garrett #kenny holt #kenny kogane #takashi shirogane #igf coeus #keith kogane #will keith wake up #black lion #red lion #green lion #yellow lion #blue lion #voltron #whats kova hiding

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the-ferocious-kittyrose · 3 years

Text

Rewriting Haggar/Honerva’s redemption arc

One of the many things that bothered me about VLD S8 is Honerva’s redemption arc. While I was never fully against the idea of Honerva getting a redemption arc, I just didn’t want VLD to do it because I knew that they would fuck it up if they tried. And low and behold, I was right!

But yeah, I wasn’t against the idea of her being redeemed. And I don’t mean “redeemed” as in “all is forgiven and she’s just a good guy now,” but more like a Darth Vader, “the things she did were inexcusable and she would never be able to right all her wrongs but she goes out on one good act to show that there was still good in her deep down and she at least had the potential to change.”

I know a lot of people don’t like the whole, “redemption=death” thing, which I understand, but I personally never had a problem with it.

Ok, so why didn’t Honerva’s redemption work? Well there are a few reasons but the one that baffles me the most is that, instead of trying to make her more sympathetic, season 8 seemed to go out of its way to show her being more evil and vile than ever.

And because I have nothing better to do, I’m gonna go through Honerva’s story in VLD and explain what I would change to make her redemption more believable.

(Keep in mind I am not a writer, this is just me ranting about my favorite character and how I personally would’ve written her.)

1. Realizing she’s Altean

I always thought it’s was weird that when Allura said “you’re...Altean!?” In the S2 finale, Haggar didn’t seem to react at all, she just kept attacking. It’s as if she didn’t care or already knew, which doesn’t make sense considering in the S3 finale and S8E2 it’s established that Haggar has no memory of who she was before she died. And in S4E3 she seems shocked by her Altean face (which also doesn’t make sense because her blue skin isn’t camouflage that’s just how she looks after the rift) so it seems like she didn’t know.

Wouldn’t it have made more sence if after Allura said “you’re...Altean!?” Honerva looked confused/shocked? If she became defensive and said Allura was lying/trying to insult her? There’s def anti-Altean propaganda in the empire so it would be considered an insult.

After that she starts questioning Zarkon. And when she looks into his mind, it’s out of genuine curiosity and desire to know the truth, not because, “the empire needs him” or whatever that meant.

And isn’t it a bit odd that she doesn’t seem betrayed at all when she finds out Zarkon has been keeping all this from her? She’s just like, “oh, you’re my husband? Cool.” Wtf???

2. Her past relationship with Zarkon

Okay, I love Zonerva, but if we’re being honest, Zarkon was not the best husband. He enabled the shit out of Honerva, even when it was obvious that the rift was doing serious damage to her physical and mental health. To me, it seems like Zarkon was so blinded by the power the rift gave him that he didn’t realize/ignored the negative effect it was having on Honerva. In the same way he downplayed the negative impact the rift had on the planet.

I think that should’ve been explored more. Maybe Honerva notices that she’s been acting differently and is worried somethings wrong (think S5 Kuron). And Honerva tries to tell Zarkon that she feels strange and Zarkon just brushes it off.

And later, when Alfor visits Diaibazaal years later. Things are pretty much the same except when we sees Honerva, she is very obviously pregnant and Alfor’s there when Honerva falls and goes into labor (instead of a random quintessence seizure). Alfor and many Galran doctors try their best to save her and the baby but she dies in childbirth.

Zarkon goes ballistic. He’s yelling, throwing doctors across the room, and Alfor turns to the doctor holding Lotor and tells them to get the baby to safely, fearing Zarkon will take his grief out on the baby.

Zarkon turns on Alfor, blaming him for Honerva’s death and accusing him of letting her die so that he could get his way and close the rift. He lunges Alfor and roars at him to leave.

He spends the rest of the night grieving at Honerva’s bedside, when Kova jumps on the bed and starts gnawing on her finger trying to wake her up. This is what gives him the idea to bring her back with quintessence.

3. Her current relationship with Zarkon

I think it’s pretty safe to say that they’re relationship didn’t get better after the war began. Zarkon hid her identity and her child from her for 10,000 years and essentially used her as a tool of war. It’s pretty fucked up.

I know it’s pretty well established that Zarkon treats Haggar with more respect than his other underlings, but I feel like it would be interesting to see that change overtime. We see that after Voltron comes back, Zarkon becomes very obsessed with Voltron/Black, and he and Haggar start disagreeing more and more.

Remember the moment where one of Haggar’s druids told Zarkon Haggar said he needed to rest and Zarkon hit them with his bayard and told them, “remember who your master is”? What if, instead of a random druid, it was Haggar who he hit?

I feel like that would be a good way to show Haggar and the audience just how much Zarkon’s obsession with Voltron is affecting him, and make the audience feel a tiny bit bad for her.

Then later in season 4, when Zarkon wakes up from his coma and finds out Haggar brought Lotor back to take his place he gets pissed. He puts a price on Lotor’s head and has Haggar arrested for treason. She steals a ship, escapes, and later on meets up with Lotor’s generals.

Her and Zarkon are officially broken up and her quest to reclaim her identity and get her son back begins.

4. Oriande

I never liked the concept of chosen/sacred Alteans. The idea that some Alteans are just born more powerful than others just feels iffy. My idea of Oriande is that it’s an Altean holly land, any Altean can enter it just depends on whether or not you can pass the White Lion’s trial. Passing the trial proves that your intentions are pure and and the White Lion will bless you with power.

I didn’t like how Honerva seemed to force her way into Oriande, I think it would be more effective if she had gone through normally because, at this point, her intentions were pure. She was going there to purge herself of the dark magic corrupting her and reclaim her memories so she could go get her son back.

I also like the idea that Oriande is a sorta link to the Altean after life, and you can speak with people you’ve lost. Allura gets to speak with Alfor, and Honerva speaks with her mother.

You could also have her be confronted by the spirits of the Alteans she helped destroy. Have the weight of her past actions bear down on her. An important part of any redemption arc is acknowledging the terrible shit you’ve done in the past, and that was severely lacking in Honerva’s arc.

Another interesting thing you could do is have Honerva talk to her younger self. The one that died 10,000 years ago. This kinda thing actually happened in 80s Voltron, young Haggar appearing in Haggar’s head trying to convince her to be good again.

5. Her relationship with Lotor

Now this is where the redemption arc really falls apart. I forget who, but one of the writers said after S5 that Haggar/Honerva was motivated purely by love for her son, but man did they do a bad job of showing that.

And it would’ve been so easy to fix that problem, just have her not be horrible to him. Have them have actual civil conversations, have her protect and defend him. Don’t have her reject him as a fucking baby!

Imagine if, after Zarkon destroys Lotor’s planet, instead of immediately deciding to

exile him, Zarkon says that this is the final straw and he’s going to have Lotor executed. But Haggar speaks up to defend Him. There’s actually a scene in DOTU where Zarkon tries to kill Lotor and Haggar gets on her knees and begs for him to be spared. (Though the scene was mostly played for laughs.)

she asks for mercy and justifies it by saying it would be unwise to kill his only heir. It’s a weak argument, Lotor’s a half breed and couldn’t realistically take the throne, but Zarkon does concede, he still loves her after all, and has Lotor exiled.

And Haggar isn’t spying on him because she doesn’t trust him, but because she’s concerned for him. When Lotor confronts Haggar about sending her cronies after him, she says she knows he’s hiding something. Lotor asks if she’s threatening him, thinking she’s going to rat him out, but she says no, she’s not threatening him, she’s just trying to warn him against doing anything stupid because, with Zarkon seemingly on his death bed, the empire needs Lotor’s leadership.

At this point in the story, Haggar is questioning her loyalty to Zarkon, so I feel like it would make sense for her to be silently supporting Lotor from the shadows.

Then at the Kral Zera in season 5, It was weird to me how she was helping Lotor through Kuron while also telling him he couldn’t be emperor and trying to put Sendak on the throne. I feel like it would’ve made more sense for Sendak to just show up on his own without Haggar.

Haggar wouldn’t even be at the Kral Zera, she would just watch through Kuron.

And then we get to S6 when she actually reveals to Lotor that she’s his mom. This scene was just so poorly done. She never actually apologizes to him, she’s just like “yeah I forgot you were my kid and I never loved you, but were cool now right?” I remember when I saw S8E2 and it shows her after Lotor rejects her and she looks like she’s about to cry, I was just thinking, “this would be very emotional and sad IF she had actually apologized and made it clear that she genuinely loved him.” But she didn’t and I don’t know why!

And then we get to season 8, and of course everything in S8 is bad but Honerva’s story is particularly bad. She’s supposed to be motivated by love for Lotor yet she doesn’t act like she actually cares about him at all.

She manipulates his corpse and when she sees his gross melted body, she doesn’t even react that much. When a mother sees her child’s mutilated corpse, how do you think she reacts? Screaming? Crying?? Hurling??? But no. She’s just like, “...”

And then when she goes to the alternate reality and meets baby Lotor and he rejects her, her reaction isn’t disappointment or sadness, it’s anger and entitlement. She immediately decides, “ok, fuck this kid. Let’s destroy this reality.”

It just doesn’t make sense! This is the season you’re trying to REDEEM her! Why are you going out of your way to make her so vile?

6. Her S7-S8 plan

(Keep in mind I haven’t watched S7/S8 since they came out and barely even watched S8 to begin with, so I don’t remember some things and I can’t be bothered to rewatch them.)

Okay, starting with S7, she’s not in this season at all but in “The Ruins” the druid dude says that her final order was to hunt and destroy the Blade of Marmora. I guess it makes a certain amount of sense because she saw that it was Keith who brought Lotor’s actions to light, but that whole plot was really pointless in my opinion. (Was anybody really hoping for a rematch between Keith and that one random druid?)

If you want us to forgive Honerva for her crimes, you really shouldn’t keep adding more unnecessary crimes. It’s established that there were a lot of Galra war lords vying for power and pirates looking for money, just have it be that Kolivan got kidnapped by one of them.

Then you have her season 8 plan and I’m gonna be real with y’all, I have no idea how to fix this mess.

I feel like the basics of her plan could work. She tries to get Lotor and Sincline out of the rift but when she gets him he’s a melted corpse so the plan then becomes to use sincline to go to another reality to find a living Lotor, but opening all these rifts causes problems and the paladins have to stop her.

But all the shit with manipulating the colony Alteans, killing the White Lion, desecrating Oriande, and destroying Olkarion and entire realities, it was all so unnecessary.

Personally I would cut the colony Alteans from the story all together, there are other ways for Lotor to betray the team. It was a lazy way of making Lotor 100% evil and having Honerva manipulate them is unnecessarily cruel, especially in the season you’re trying to redeem her.

Here’s a very basic outline of how I would do this plot.

If we’re going by season 8’s logic that she needs a sacrifice to bring back Sincline, I would’ve had the Galra she killed at the Kral Zera be the sacrifice, not the White Lion. She stands on the pyramid and talks about how the empire stole her life from her and she wants revenge as she absorbs their quintessence into herself and then uses that to bring back Sincline.

Then when she finds Lotor dead she takes Sincline and uses it to go to another reality where she can be with her family.

The danger comes when she opens rifts to the other realities and rift creatures start coming out and causing damage. The paladins fight them and follow her into the rift to stop whatever evil plan she may have. Because the paladins don’t know that Haggar is now Honerva and all this is just to get Lotor back. They think this is all some plan for multiverse domination or some shit.

Meanwhile Honerva has just been rejected by little Lotor and seeing Voltron show up pushes her over the edge and they fight.

But when they find out the real reason she’s doing all this they start trying to appeal to her and convince her to give up and close the rift peacefully. And similarly to how the paladins had to sacrifice the castle to close the rifts created by the fight with Lotor, Honerva has to sacrifice herself to close the rifts.

In the end, I feel like a Honerva redemption arc could’ve worked if the writers were actually competent and actually made an effort to have her be sympathetic, but In canon, her reasoning, “If I can’t indulge in the simple joys of life, why should anybody else?” just doesn’t cut it.

It’s disappointing. VLD had so much potential. I’m thinking of just rewriting the entire series from the beginning. Hopefully putting all my thoughts out into the universe will help me move on.

#voltron #voltron legendary discourse #haggar #honerva #Lotor #prince lotor #Allura #princess allura #vld #vld critical #Altean #voltron season 8 #zarkon #emperor Zarkon #zonerva #Galra #redemption arc

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whump-cravings · 2 years

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What is A Dragon's Fear?

A young healer with something to hide finds a severely wounded dragon in the woods while she's traveling. Despite dragons' reputation as unintelligent and evil beasts, she takes it on herself to tend the wounded creature.

Last time this was modified was in 2019 and that was probably some really small additions when the majority was proooobs written in like 2015-2017 SO no judging the quality here lmao (i am RESISTING the urge to edit before I post)

~2.4k | Original Work: A Dragon's Fear

Content: dragon whumpee, frightened caretaker, aftermath of torture, past dfhand/foot/paw whump?? (nails pulled), lowkey sexism

The sound of wood splintering and something heavy crashing into the earth startled Kova awake, and she scrambled to her feet. Too nearby for comfort, she could see the place where something had hurtled towards the ground and torn branches off of trees, even snapping a few trees in half. The open path cleared a way for sunlight to stream through the canopy unhindered.

Cautiously, she crept forward to investigate, grabbing a fallen, sturdy branch—just in case. Not that she thought it could be much help, considering not many things could have done something like this, but it felt reassuring in her hands. Curiosity propelled her over debris as she quashed the ferocious instinct to run.

She gasped, dropping her stick when she came upon the creature still lying in the gouged earth.

It was a dragon.

Her legs froze in place as she waited for the pale-blue dragon to notice her, her life expectancy dropping to mere seconds. The dragon—a small thing, no bigger than a plow horse—was lying prone on its side, one of its wings beneath it and the other, torn and dripping blue, stretched out.

With a groan of obvious pain, the dragon finally began to move, but only to gather its feet beneath itself and roll off its left wing, before gingerly laying and stretching both wings out. Its tail twitched back and forth like a cats'.

The spell on her legs broken, Kova took a step back—right onto a dry twig.

The dragon leapt forward, its wings clamping to itself as it whirled around, its bright, blue eyes landing on her. It stumbled backwards into a tree, and fell to the ground with a gasp. In obvious pain, it struggled back to its feet, tail whipping defensively in front of itself.

This was... unexpected. Was it... afraid of her? Then again, it looked as though it had been through a traumatic experience—a battle of some sort? Not only were its wings torn in places—which could probably explain why it crash-landed—but its paws were also smeared with dried, blue blood, scales were missing in patches all over its flank, and a large wound traced from the dragon's chest down to its underbelly.

It swayed slightly as they stared at each other. It couldn't stand for much longer. What had happened to it?

Do you hear yourself, Kova? She thought to herself as she took another step back. It's probably some sort of trick. Dragons were, after all, terribly evil creatures. They burned and plundered villages, stole livestock and young people to feed upon, and had nothing more than the intelligence of a wild beast.

But the eyes that looked at her right then didn't seem like the eyes of a wild, ferocious, evil beast. They were of a creature in pain, and there was a glint of intelligence. And it hadn't tried burning her to a crisp. (Yet.)

The dragon lowered itself onto the ground, still watching her with its tail out in front of itself. It could hardly move with those injuries.

Heart wrenching, she turned around and went to her campsite, picking up her things, kicking dirt over the embers of her fire, and then climbing back through the trees to the dragon. Its eyes tracked her as she kept a safe distance out of reach from its tail. Sitting on a log—which looked as though it had just been felled, courtesy of the dragon—she set her pack down, opening the flap and digging through it.

She had very few medical supplies, but she pulled them out, setting them next to her: she had an enchanted balm that helped cure minor wounds—half empty, even though her use of it had been sparing in the last few years—her water skin, some stitching thread, needles, and a few linen bandages. Kova doubted she could tend all of the dragon's wounds properly, considering that, though it was much smaller than she imagined dragons being, it was a lot bigger than a human.

Glancing at the blood on the dragon, she also pulled out an old, black skirt. She had enough coin to buy another in the next town, and she had to wipe away the blood from its scales somehow.

The dragon was now watching her with interest, its tail more relaxed on the ground, but it still hadn't move from its position. Carefully gathering the supplies to her chest in a bundle, she cautiously approached the dragon.

"It's okay," Kova soothed as it was instantly wary again, its tail lashing slightly back and forth as a warning. "I just want to help." Fear made her voice quiver. "Look, I have medical supplies." She crouched down, holding the bundle in front of her and awkwardly hobbling forward.

It raised its head towards her, tongue licking the air for a moment and nostrils flaring. Its eyes narrowed slightly, but it slowly slid its tail out of her way. Excitement bubbled inside of her, competing with the fear of being eaten at any moment. She continued her cautious approach to the wing that was near her, setting her things down and kneeling when she reached the dragon's side. Gently, she eased the wing open, and the dragon flexed it out all the way—a good ten feet in length and longer than her in width—with a hiss of pain. Wind had clearly torn at the gashes in the wings, tearing open wounds that might have been started out as minor.

"What prompted you to fly with wounded wings?" she wondered quietly to herself, opening up her flask and bundling the skirt around her hand. She wet the skirt, then gently began to wipe away blood from the worst wound within reach—a rip at least an arm's length long. The dragon laid its head down as she worked, its tail twitching back and forth.

After she had cleaned the wound, she uncapped the balm, getting a bit on her fingers and running it across the torn flesh of the wings. Slowly, the edges of the wound started to pull together, leaving a line. The balm would hold it together until it healed, quite like stitches, and also prevent infection. She didn't know if dragons could suffer the same maladies as humans, but it would be unfortunate to patch the dragon up just to have it die from infection.

Kova worked slowly and carefully, without any sudden movements (lest she find herself without a head), until her water ran out. She had gotten the worst of the gashes on this wing, her balm depleting slowly. She stitched closed the smaller wounds.

She stood up, rubbing an unwounded portion of the wing. "Hold on," she told the dragon. "I've run out of water. I'll be back in a minute."

There had been a spring nearby with clean water, where Kova had filled up her canteen last. She set out at a light jog, finding it shortly and then returning with a full water skin.

The dragon had repositioned itself so that it was accessible on both sides, for which Kova was grateful; it also had both its wings spread out on the ground. She went to work on its other wing.

She was unsure of how much time had passed when she finally got through with the wings, but the sun was tipping past its zenith in the sky. The dragon seemed to be drifting in and out of sleep, depending on whether she was stitching or not.

"Okay, now I need to see under the wings," Kova said, stroking the dragon's neck and she gently tugged the wing she was closest to upwards.

The dragon, apparently one to spit in the face of rumor of non-intelligence, obeyed her, lifting its wing up as she crawled beneath it. The sunlight glowed blue through the thin flesh of the wing, casting an interesting hue on the dragon's hide. She wiped away blood from patches of missing scales, and gashes. Its wounds were littered across its hide.

Another few hours passed as she patched the dragon up, and she ran low on her balm. She coaxed the dragon into showing her its belly, in case there was a worse gash that needed the balm more than something else. She found out from this that the dragon was male.

After she ran out of both balm and stitching thread, she sat back and wiped sweat from her brow. There were a few injuries left, but they were minor. Except for his paws, where his claws were conspicuously missing. She couldn't do anything about the declawing, though she did spread some of her balm over the crevices, since the skin around the claws definitely looked irritated and inflamed.

The lack of claws disturbed her more than the other wounds. The other ones could be attributed to a battle with some other large animal—maybe another dragon—but missing claws spoke of a rare disease, or someone having deliberately declawed the dragon. And the only being she knew of that could do that was her own race—humans. It would explain the fear she'd seen in his eyes when he'd stumbled away from her.

------

As she travelled back to where she had left the dragon—trying to prepare herself to find no dragon, for it had undoubtedly left—her pack weighed heavily on her shoulders. The sky began to darken as she reached the general area and started looking around hopefully.

Kova was disappointed after a few minutes of searching revealed an absent dragon. She decided to search more but was discouraged.

I couldn't have expected it to actually stay, she told herself sternly. There was a reason she hadn't named it.

She continued to search a bit deeper into the woods, lost in thought of the dragon. This, along with the dimming of her surroundings and the sounds of nature coming out in full force, distracted her thoroughly, and she practically stumbled on a small group of soldiers.

The soldiers immediately went on the defensive as Kova froze in place, eyes widening at the spears pointed in her direction.

"Stand down!" someone barked, and Kova let out the tense breath she'd been holding as the weapons lowered. A man approached her, separating from the others. He wore a sword at his hip, unlike the rest.

A squad leader, her mind told her.

"Miss, it isn't safe to travel these woods alone at night," the squad leader was saying, and she blinked, looking up.

"What do you mean?"

The man gestured for the squadron to relax. The tension in the air eased as they began to prepare what looked to be a camp. "A dragon was tracked to this area, as well as a rogue sorcerer. And, if you don't mind me saying so, miss, the forest is particularly not a safe place for young maidens like yourself without a companion."

Kova shook her head. "I can take care of myself, but I appreciate the concern, officer." She might have felt complimented in a different situation at his term of 'young maiden' directed at her—twenty-one was hardly young anymore—but her mind was on other matters. Rogue sorcerer? What's that about? Suddenly she was very glad she had sold the dragon scale.

"I insist that you make camp with us tonight," he said, and she could hear honest concern in his tone. "Please, miss. It would be against my duty to let you do otherwise."

She resisted a sigh. He was one of those types. "Very well, officer."

"Reichal," he informed her. "Officer Reichal."

"Kova Lamar-daughter," she replied. "Pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine," he said.

"So, how did you come to track them here? The dragon and the sorcerer, that is," Kova asked.

"We found evidence of a dragon about the size we're looking for about five miles back," he said, walking to a felled log. Kova followed, though she still wasn't pleased about it.

"I see," she said, heart thumping. Perhaps the dragon hadn't left the area by choice—perhaps these soldiers had scared him away. Kova didn't blame him. "And the sorcerer?"

"He is a bit more difficult," the soldier replied. "We did find some human tracks around the crash site, but the prints were smaller than an average man's." He shook his head. "I'm not sure what we're looking at."

Her heart pounded again. Would he suspect Kova had any connection to the dragon?

Don't be an idiot, the logical portion of her mind told her. She had come from the other direction; there was no reason for this officer to think she was connected.

Unless he goes to the town and finds out I'm the one who sold the scale. She had to leave his company before then.

Could she slip away at night? A quick glance to the soldiers setting up camp told her no. She would have to stay with Reichal until a good opportunity—or excuse—came to leave him.

"Where are you headed?" Reichal asked, and she realized she'd been quiet for a stretch too long.

"Oh," she said, her hometown coming to mind. "I think Medonae."

"That's a long way from here," he commented. "What's in Medonae?"

"My home," she responded truthfully.

"Ah. What are you doing out here, then?"

"I started travelling after my apprenticeship," she said, attempting to tell the truth as much as possible. These military sorts had ways of telling when someone was lying.

"Oh?" he prompted. "What profession?"

"Healing," she responded, shouldering her pack.

"Excellent profession," he said with approval, and she could practically hear the 'for a woman' tacked on the end of the statement.

Letting it slide, she nodded, then yawned, covering it politely with a hand.

Reichal took notice. "Excuse me, Miss Kova. I have been inconsiderate of the time."

She nodded. "Thanks."

Kova ended up setting her bedding up next to the fire, and she promptly fell into an uneasy sleep.

#dragon whump #dragon whumpee #fantasy whump #nonhuman whumpee #sexism #caretaker pov #mars writes #whump writing #original work #A Dragon's Fear #oh god the military dude is named after my HS chem teacher #lmfao #aftermath of torture #frightened caretaker

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bloodycassian · 3 years

Text

heavy is the head - Cassian x reader- reader has to deal with Night court forces in a battle with Spring. Part two likely.

"Look who's come to plead for help." Cassian drawled, looking you up and down. Rhys gave him a sharp look that he shrugged off. You held back your fighting words and approached with false confidence.

"And look at the male who lost a fight to a giant fish." You retorted, giving him the same judgmental look.

"The levithan-" He began, and you swore you saw the Shadowmaster roll his eyes.

"Enough. We have matters to discuss." Rhys silenced him before he could continue. You gave him a sweet smile and turned to the high lord.

You noted how the shadowmaster smiled. His dark hair glinting in the pale light of the meadow. They all looked alike, the dark hair that reflected the moonlight like a river. The dark wings that blended into the night far too easily. The sight of them made you shiver.

You began before one of them could bring up anything else. There was no other reason for you to call the meeting, it was pain. You were desperate. And if Rhys was so adamant about keeping all of Prythian safe, he would listen. "Spring court presents more of a problem than we thought. Tamlin's son is preparing to invade." You reported, extending your palm for them to see the evidence you'd brought.

A fragment of an arrowhead tipped in faebane. You kept it wrapped in a leather cloth for a reason. "Where is he getting these?" Azriel asked, his shadows running over your palm and the arrow there. The tinginging feeling they left behind made you sick to your stomach. “That’s out of my pay grade, shadowmaster.” You said with a bitter smile.

“You’re the next heir to the throne.” Cassian laughed despite himself. He wasn’t a fan of Summer Court after the blood rubies sent to them by the previous ruler. They had recalled them, but the message still stung.

“I am the throne. My father’s time is coming quickly.” You said with a clipped tone, not sparing them any room for further questions before continuing. "Summer court cant risk any more ships to the southern border. We are losing more and more soldiers daily just to hold the line."

"Perhaps you could train better-" Cassian was full of fight tonight it seemed. And you were willing to oblige, you bared your teeth at him and cut off those words before you could

"Perhaps you could allow us some help. We are allies if I recall correctly?” You tapped a finger to your chin, earning an eyeroll from the two generals. Rhys just leveled you a cool glare.

"Reluctantly." He admitted, then looked to the sky. "Cassian..." He called. You felt there was some other conversation continuing in their heads based off Cas’ reaction. It was predictable, him acting like such a child. But it still hurt, nonetheless.

"Rhys- No..." He whined, his wings flaring out a bit. You watched the sharp tips of them as they so expertly avoided catching his hair or head. You wondered what it was like having such an advantage. You wondered what all Illyrians thought of the wings, if all of them loved them or if they had mixed opinions.

You knew a few Peregryns from Dawn court that resented being born with wings because it meant they had to serve in the army. Some even ‘went missing’ to other courts to avoid being enlisted. You wished you had that option at all. But Tarquin would likely send the entire army after you if you had done so. Being his only child meant good training, as well as being very well known throughout Prythian. Just like Kova.

"We can discuss this later.” Rhys said with a sharp tone. Cassian’s look of betrayal made you wonder what the actual conversation would be about. “Now I need you to pledge forces to our Summer ally. We can't risk Kova moving north."

Cassian was silent for a long moment. Contemplating. He knew he couldn’t tell Rhys no. Especially in front of a different Court member. But his battle instincts told him hell no. Do not give forces over to someone who dosen’t even know how to handle them. "Cassian." Azriel said softly, his shadows circling his brothers.

He compromised. "Two legions. I will lead them tomorrow."

You hated the reluctance in his voice. "Two legions are a sacrifice. You don't know the terror that child brings-"

"Two legions or nothing. Your choice." Cassian said firmly.

"Cass-" Rhys pinched the bridge of his nose. "We will consider more options. For now, we will give you what we can spare in weapons as well as the legions." He held a hand up to Azriel when he made to argue.

"Thank you, your highness." You gave a half assed bow, and he was gone before you rose. You smiled to yourself at the faint echo of a growl in the meadow.

You donned your most threatening armor and set out to greet the Illyrians. The far hills of Summer court were donned with swaying brown beach grass that hissed in the wind. The ocean spray shimmered above the dark ranks of warriors. The sun did not glint off their armor like it did on yours.

Cassian's look of distaste said all you needed to see to understand that the Illyrians were not ones for following orders. "One hundred Illyrians. All with weapons that they will take care of." He gave a sidelong glance to the males to his left. They tensed, but did not scare from their general. Whatever they had done must not have been too awful if they were still standing.

Azriel squinted against the Summer sunlight. His shadows seemed more highlighted than ever against the beating sun. "Welcome... I will guide us the rest of the way to the camp." You said, loud enough that the entire crowd could hear you.

You marched forward, and none followed.

A male spat on the ground where you had been standing. His wings were gray and tattered, face a strange pale color that didn't match the rest of the Illyrians. A man who had seen too many days for what Illyrians were used to.

"We dont take orders from a Summer court-" Cassian did not let the male continue. He took the crossbow from his hands, and gave the soldiers around him a nod. They parted around the male. His face went white as a sheet. Cassian's frustration turned his expression into that of a wild wolf. He knew that there would be some to stand against him in helping.

"ninety nine soldiers, I must have miscounted." Cassian announced, and waved the forces forward to follow. You smiled to yourself, and led them through the tall pine and larch trees that made up the forest border with Spring.

Cassian carried the crossbow the entire journey from the hills to the camp. Summer soldiers did not hide the way they stared at the winged males. Some even moved their setups to be further away. You didn't blame them, but embarrassment ran through you at the message it sent.

"Half of you will flank Tamli- Kova’s…” You corrected yourself and spat the name. Cassian wondered what kind of hatred lie there. There was obviously something beyond just enemy courts. “-forces from the shoreline. The other half will follow the second front into the border.” You ran a finger across the map. Cassian was thoroughly impressed with your planning. He noted the details of which fronts were where and what diversions were being made by specific groups.

“Az will lead the flank. I’ll take the front.” He spoke with the confidence of a male who had never lost a battle. He knew Tamlin’s upfront ways on top of it all. He would have trained his son to do the same.

“Dismissed.” Cassian announced, and the Illyrians went straight to the long dinner table. Az followed, giving his brother a long look before departing. Cassian knew that look. The one that said ‘watch your back. I’m not watching it for you.’ After centuries of giving each other that look, it was enough to rattle him. What exactly had he been doing to warrant that from his brother? He stared at the map on the table.

He felt your presence before he heard you. Like a snake creeping around, waiting to strike. “This is a good plan.” He approved, then stole a glance to see your reaction.

“I would hope so. It’s our last push to keep them out of Summer territory.” You collected your pawns from the table and tried not to look at him. He watched you move with fluid grace that was common in Fae.. but you were different somehow. Like you moved with extra care. It made him uncomfortable. Why did it bother him so much? He tried to shake himself from the stupor he felt around you.

He took crossed his arms over his chest, feeling his wings flare at the frustration he was “If you had boats to help that would ensure you winning this.”

“You mean us winning this?” He bit his tongue. He didn’t like the idea of allying with someone with a reputation like yours. It was dangerous even getting this close. As if you could read his thoughts, you rolled your eyes. “Like I said, we can’t risk any more.”

“But you can risk my people?” The words stung with accusation. With a underlying tone of shame and history there. He tried not to think of himself as fully Illyrian after what they’d done to his mother. But he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the brutality of the culture. It made him what he was. It forced him to survive instead of dying in those camps alone, freezing to death.

You were silent at the simmering question. He smiled bitterly. “You can say what you want but I brought them here. Now you need to make sure your side keeps them alive.” He didn’t look back when he left you standing there in front of your battle map.

“Heavy is the head...” You thought.

#cassian #acotar fic #cassian x reader #acotar

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galraluver · 3 years

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Scenario for how ezor zethrid acxa and lotor would react to see narti not only alive but has a daughter? I know narti would probably be scared and very protective of her baby when she sees lotor.

Sure thing! I'll try my best

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Ever since Narti found out that she and (Y/n) managed to conceive a child together their lives changed in a way they never would have expected. On the day Narti laid her egg it'd been one of the most painful things she had experienced; nearly getting killed was far more painful than pushing an egg out of her body, although laying an egg was still really painful. (Y/n) felt guilty for being the cause of his mate's painful experience, thankfully from the time she went into labor to after she laid her egg only lasted around five vargas. Their child ended up being a girl, (Y/n) promised Narti that he would do anything to protect her and their little girl. He felt nothing but love for their daughter as soon as she hatched and he got to hold her for the very first time, the only thing about her that seemed unnatural to him was their daughter wouldn't need to drink milk; Nav was mostly reptilian like her mother, but she had eyes and could speak like him, although she didn't start talking until she was almost a deca-phoeb old.

(Y/n) and Narti loved their daughter more than the universe itself, they would do anything to protect her from harm. However, their peaceful life would soon be disturbed when a certain galtean prince and his three remaining generals arrived on the planet Narti and her little family were hidden on. When Lotor, Ezor, Acxa and Zethrid landed on a planet they had never been to before Lotor sent Acxa, Ezor and Zethrid to see if anyone was around. They stayed together as they walked through the forest until they came across a house after a while. The house itself wasn't out of the ordinary, but who they saw sitting in the grass was; none of them could believe who they saw, they thought she had been killed.

"Is that who I think it is?" Ezor whisper-asked as she, Zethrid and Acxa hid in the bushes to avoid being seen by their old colleague.

"It's Narti." Zethrid whispered in pure shock, her large eyes looking even bigger than usual; they all saw Lotor kill Narti, or at least they thought that they did.

"(Y/n) must have saved her." Acxa concluded, peering out of the bushes while standing next to a tree.

Narti, Kova and Nav were enjoying the nice weather while (Y/n) was out hunting for dinner; Narti enjoyed hunting, but she wanted to stay behind to keep an eye on Nav who was too young to be left alone. However, when Narti heard whispering she stood up and got into a defensive position; someone was watching her and she knew who it was. Nav had been startled by Narti's defensive behavior and hid behind her mother, knowing what danger was after being told multiple times to always be careful whenever she was outside. Acxa looked at Ezor and Ezor looked at Zethrid, the three of them knowing that there was no point in hiding anymore. Zethrid and Acxa didn't want to be the first ones to give away their position, so Ezor had to do it for them.

"Narti?" Ezor asked in disbelief, being the first one to step out of the bushes.

"We thought you were dead." Zethrid said quietly, following her girlfriend out of the bushes.

Acxa didn't say anything as she followed Zethrid, keeping her distance since she wasn't sure what to expect. Narti was beyond shocked to see Acxa, Ezor and Zethrid there with Kova's help; she thought that she, her husband and their daughter were completely hidden, she should have known it was too good to be true. Narti relaxed a little after a few moments, allowing Ezor to hug her and she reciprocated the friendly gesture. Ezor was always friendly to those she was close to, even when one of those people were practically banished from the galra empire. Nav peeked out from behind her mother to look at the three strangers, curious as to why one of them was hugging her mother.

"I see that you and (Y/n) have a kit." Acxa noted out loud, looking down at Nav who had been looking up at her.

"Awww, she's so cute!" Ezor added with excitement, waving at Nav after she and Narti let go of each other.

Nav shyly looked up at Ezor, Acxa and Zethrid, not sure what to think of them as Narti bent down, picked her up and held her as she stood back up. Zethrid smiled at Nav, feeling oddly happy that Narti was now a mother of an adorable daughter. It was incredibly rare for a galra hybrid to conceive any children during their life, so Nav was really a miracle child. While the four women caught up with each other Lotor was becoming curious as to where his three generals were, so he went to look for them. When he eventually found them talking to Narti he was angry; he killed Narti because in eyes she was a traitor, he decided to kill her again and make sure she was dead.

"What is the meaning of this?" Lotor questioned angrily as he stormed towards Narti, sword drawn and by his side.

Everyone jumped in shock and looked at Lotor when they heard him, none of them were expecting him to just pop out of nowhere. Narti was scared but protective at the same time, she refused to let Lotor harm her or her daughter. She was scared that Lotor was going to try to kill her again and kill Nav too, she wouldn't put it past him to kill an innocent child just because Nav was blood related to her. Nav panicked when Lotor stormed towards her mother and she began to cry, burying her face in the crook of Narti's neck in an attempt to hide from the scary man. Before Lotor could get too close to Narti, Ezor and Zethrid got in front of her in a way to protect her from Lotor's wrath.

"Lotor, don't do anything that you'll regret." Ezor said as calmly as she could in an attempt to defuse the situation, she refused to let Lotor kill Narti and Nav.

Lotor glared at Ezor before turning his attention back to Narti, glaring at her with an evil grin. Thankfully before he could raise his sword (Y/n) had come home from his hunting trip, immediately dropping the animal he killed so that he could protect his mate and their daughter. He barreled towards Lotor and growled, fully prepared to fight the galtean prince to the death if he had to; he refused to let anyone kill or harm them.

"Lotor." (Y/n) growled angrily once he stood between Narti and Lotor, bearing his teeth at the other man.

"(Y/n), stand aside!" Lotor growled in response, pointing the tip of his sword in the direction of Narti's husband.

"Leave here now! You've gone this long not knowing that we're here, now leave us alone!" (Y/n) growled louder, not backing down from the potential fight.

"Fine, we'll leave. Acxa, Ezor, Zethrid, come!" Lotor snapped, putting his sword back into its sheath before turning around and walking away.

Acxa glanced at Narti and her daughter before following Lotor, not saying anything; she didn't like how Lotor treated others, unfortunately at the time she wasn't able to leave. Zethrid said a quick goodbye to (Y/n) and Narti before following Acxa, wishing that Lotor wasn't so huffy. Ezor was the last to leave, wishing (Y/n) and Narti good luck before leaving; she would have liked to hold Nav, but unfortunately Lotor was in a hurry to leave. Lotor never wanted to see Narti again, so he swore to never return to the planet she lived on; even he knew when to leave the past in the past. Narti, (Y/n) and Nav watched as they left before (Y/n) went to go retrieve the dead animal he dropped earlier, grateful that he came home before his wife and daughter were murdered. From then on Narti and her little family wouldn't be bothered by Lotor again, the three of them able to enjoy their peaceful life together.

#Narti #VLD Narti #Narti x Reader #Lotor #VLD Lotor #Acxa #VLD Acxa #Ezor #VLD Ezor #Zethrid #VLD Zethrid #Galra

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