renard-hates-you-blog
MOTHERFUCKER I AM A GOD AND YOU WILL SUCK MY DICK.
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GET METH FUCK BITCHES
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renard-hates-you-blog · 12 years ago
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The Gaullian Royal Family was an odd bunch, but it had been decades since anyone continued to question it (outloud, and in their presence, anyway.) The lot of them came by escort to the Albanian keep, Castle Fairfax, with the typical fanfare and welcome of showy Germanian politicians. Hailed as the King of Gaullia, Isengrin St. Clair was the first to enter the castle with a fleet of twelve armed guards close at hand. Reputed as a just and bipartisan ruler, Isengrin carried about him a glow of authority as much as one of kindness. No one could quite figure out how he remained so youthful in appearrance; though clearly pushing his early forties as with his twin brother Renard, the King looked no more than twenty-five at best. Always beside him at the head of his guard was the Gaullian Prince, Renard. No longer were the two identical—his brother was a man who'd shaved off many years of his life in wars and drug abuse. Long-haired and manic, but somehow tamed now. There was still a storm inside of him that could reduce any man to ash in mere seconds, but there was a quality about Renard that was controlled in his age. Then came his consort and the parent of the Gaullian heirs; Jaeger. Beautiful and of fair, pointed features that passed onto the twins, Princess Apollo and Prince Crius St. Clair. The three were like a holy sort of trinity, walking in unison, all a bit gold, all a bit freckled, and inheritors of the bluest Germanian blood. Their entrance was announced and those in attendance addressed them with the respect any monarchs would recieve. But Isengrin knew full well that there was nothing but tension in the entire keep and the silent prayer that this arrangement would work out. Peace could only last so long, an old and cynical friend once told him. "Vae," Isengrin spoke in quiet Gaullian to the automaton at his side, "Keep close to Renard. I don't want him to go running off." The masked automaton nodded and asked, "And the children?" "I'll have Caroline keep an eye on everyone. Let's have this all run smoothly." "Understood." Isengrin passed a quick glance toward Renard and caught him watching Jaeger. It was a hopeless sort of sadness that he was sure no one else noticed. Renard always  looked like he didn't care. But Renard never spent so much time watching another person unless he craved them. It wasn't until Renard broke their elegant formation that Isengrin furrowed his brow. He signaled for Vae to follow and the automaton did so. Renard mentioned something that went unheard to an Albanian guard and the soldier pointed outward down a long marble corridor. Renard proceeded out of sight and Vae followed. --- Meryl wondered if there were a significance in the date Richter had chosen. She kept her silence and bit back the desire to tear the bastard's throat out. Whether or not the Gaullians were arriving that afternoon (she could see the airship docked at the port, Meryl thought with a sneer,) she would pay her respects as she did every morning on that day of the year. A rose and a bottle of ice wine—things she had heard her mother loved. The fact that she herself couldn't quite know was sickening. Perhaps one day in the afterlife she could truly ask her mother what her favorite things in life were.  She heard footsteps on stone; mismatched, not Bastian's gait nor Richter's stride. The material was all wrong and the pacing erratic. Meryl looked upward to the marble likeness of her mother—the details were hardly right. It was a heroic looking woman, sure. But it wasn't the one she called mother. The thick scent of opium and intoxication wafted past her as the source of the footsteps appeared. She looked over with slightly wider eyes, but little reaction. Renard St. Clair. The last time she'd seen him, he was just a little taller than her; they were eye to eye now. His rich, brown hair, having been mussed and tangled then reached his shoulders now, with the occasional silver curl to frame his weathered face. She clenched her teeth even tighter. The very fucking reason any of this was happening, in some wretched way. Renard had his hands in the pockets of his long, leathery coat. A black cigarette dangled past his lips. Neither spoke a word, hearing on the breeze on the grass and the birds in the trees. He wasn't going to say a thing, even if she'd wanted him to. Meryl's temper could be a wretched thing at times though. She pulled her gun and thrust it's tip against the back of his head. Renard never went anywhere with security—the son of a bitch always walked about with a deathwish and she was more than happy to give it to him. Still nothing. Sad, pathetic, miserable man. A frustrated growl escaped her as she tried to figure out a way to burn off the rage. "You're not the only one who misses 'er, y'know." He said in his wretched, hokey accent. Meryl slowly tucked her gun back into it's holster. If only her gaze were spears to tear through the back of Renard's skull. As she stepped away, she kept her eyes fixed on the Gaullian Prince. There was a meeting in the court to be at and her brother would no doubt chide her for being late. And so she hurried through the gardens and back to the castle and it's protective, marble halls. Turning about a corner, she found herself face to face with another familiar face—that bloody automaton soldier of Renard's. It's masked face fixed on her as though to sense her discomfort. Sidestepping the wretched thing, she continued on her way. When she looked back over her shoulder, it's goggle-hidden eyes remained on her. Renard remained, basking in the cool air. He produced a figure of a blue bird folded from cerulean tin foil. Laying on the memorial's base, just beside the bottle of ice wine and Meryl's rose, the little tin bird made a perch out of the 'A' in "Aveline H. Fairfax."
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renard-hates-you-blog · 12 years ago
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Renard felt his fingertips reach out for his lover but his arm didn't nudge. The motion died out before it had started and Renard stood in the doorway with his eyes fixed on the floor. Perhaps twenty years ago, he would have punched a hole in the wall. Surely, the staff at the chateau had patched up enough of them. But even that had become pointless over the years and now it was just still emptiness. He followed after when he was sure a distance had formed. It was the twins' room he'd found his way to next and he was met with his vivacious daughter yelling out to him, "Pere!" That never ceased to spur a smile. The tall, lanky blonde thing threw her arms around his shoulders (both of his children took their mother's height, it seemed.) "When are we going, when are we going?" She bounced. "Soon enough, sweetheart." Renard said, forcing some optimism. He turned his concern to Crius and winced, patting his son on the back, "I'll have Caroline come bring ya some more painkillers. We'll be home soon enough, kid."
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renard-hates-you-blog · 12 years ago
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x. Renard was right. Jaeger had not, nor would he, forgive him for this mad venture. Germania went too far, and worse, they knew whose child she was. Part of him wondered if it had been on purpose, but no. Germania had always been mad for breeding its monarchs. Oh, the government did all the work now, but the crown was so ancient a custom that the kings and queens were left to their comings and goings, to be brought out and paraded about when the country needed a show.
Albion was just another Gaullia. That the late Queen’s children were still entitled to rule was merely a mummer’s show.
Closing his book, the once-monarch leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes, suffering the descent in silence. Twenty-one years and he still wasn’t used to these damned things. That was why, more often than not, he stayed on the ground when Renard went flying. A knock at the door followed and Renard stood outside it. How long had it been since they spoke last? His forehead pressed softly against the door's surface as he waited for any sort of answer. He waited a moment before knocking again and then entering quietly. He found Jaeger, elegant and collected, waiting out the last of the turbulence in silence. Renard held himself steady against a wall as the books and shelves rattled.
Renard had passed up the door for Lo and Crius's cabin in favor of the one Jaeger had claimed. When he waited for the familiar, freckled face to move again, he felt his resolve melting. This had been a bad idea too; he should've just gone to check on Lo.
He searched for something to say but found himself come up dry; what was there to say? "Our daughter's going to get married off to some cunt she doesn't know. But the worst of the trip is over if ye'r still airsick." Twenty years hadn't made him any better at apologizing. But it taught him a lot about guilt.
"Y'look good." Renard said, finally. It was the only honest thing he could blurt at the moment. Jaeger was never one for poor taste in anything but men. xx. Crius St. Clair was shaking, and not from the turbulence.
Unused to being sober, he sat hunched over a bucket, retching up the contents of his stomach until his throat bled and his gut cramped. The nausea was palpable, but the body fits, those hurt.
“F - f - fine.” His head never left the bucket, and his voice carried out with a metalic ring. “Just—urp—j - just dying.” The cabin shook, he shook worse, and when they landed, he wondered just how bad an injury he would have to sustain in order to be left behind. Maybe Maman would let him stay behind.
"Heeey," Lo said, waddling up beside him through the rocky descent. She rubbed his back and looked over him with concern in her big eyes, "You're not dying. I won't let you, we got a whole country t'take over!"
Whispering, she added, "That's what the whole plan is, I'll betcha anythin'! Dad's just goin' with Uncle Izzy's plan to get Albion again. Just like th'stories!"
OK IMMA TRY SOMETHIN A LITTLE DIFFERENT AGAIN I APOLOGIZE BUT LET US BLUR THE LINES BETWEEN FANTASY AND REALITY AND no not really let's just
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renard-hates-you-blog · 12 years ago
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x. In short, he didn’t want to go to court that day. The long version sounded a little more like: “Espen, if you broach the subject again, I’ll have you thrown out a window. They are not coming into my castle. They are not entering my port. If I so much as see a Gaullian flag, I’ll have the lot of you branded as traitors and thrown into the dungeon to rot. THE DUNGEON! WHAT?! What do you mean they’re already here!?” There was a good deal more cursing, but the king did as his unfortunate bodyguard begged. Within the span on forty minutes, he’d washed and dressed, growling at the serving women as they bustled about making queries. What should they serve for dinner? Should the throne room be perfumed with pine incense, or something more floral? Where should the guests be housed? “At the bottom of the channel!” He answered that one, though the others went ignored. They had brains, they could figure it out. Escorted downstairs by Espen, Bastian cut the crowd with little more than a sour glare or a barked order. He’d dressed in a deep suit of red, cut and trimmed with black. His breastplate was burnished gold, and wrought with snarling beasts, from manticores to balverines, basilisks to banshees. As he sat himself upon the throne, he could feel the eyes upon him, and thus began to fidget. His capelet was thick black fur, wolf, and it draped over one of the chair’s arms. Slouching, he repositioned his crown, cast the assembled nobles in the hall a look, then sighed and said: “Someone go get the toads.”
x. The sight of Albion's capital put a foul sensation in Renard's mind. He'd enjoyed it at one time, but it had become a place of memories. That was all they were—and there was something incredibly wretched about that. The airship was settling in over the docks, taking it's place in one of the few areas designated for air vessels. From the bridge, he looked out over the meager port. The first time he'd seen it, it was aflame and laid waste to within hours. Albion's Queen had no steady hand over her soldiers, nor her crumbling little kingdom. It wasn't until they'd wrenched the crown from her head and put it on Jaeger's that the city saw it's veil of poverty lifted.
That was almost over two decades ago. In Germania's rule, the kingdom had flourished and that idiot Queen's children succeeded her. Renard's mouth straightened into a thin line. He felt a hand on his shoulder and his brother's voice came, "You alright?"
Renard sucked in a breath and nodded. Isengrin was always at his side and he at Isengrin's. Perhaps that was for the best—the crown was never meant to be his, but for a fleeting second, he'd regretted that decision all those years ago. If it were his call, Lo wouldn't be offered up to Albion's royal prat like some kind of peace offering. Like hell would he sit by pleasantly and watch his daughter be made some kind of political item.
"Where's Jaeger?" Isengrin asked.
"Sleeping, probably." 
Silence hung between the brothers.
"It's for the best... and I think she would have wanted this too." Isengrin said, taking his leave. The rest of his kingsguard joined him, looking once to their head soldier for his company. But Renard stayed at the bridge and Isengrin gestured for them to leave him be. Renard swallowed and grit his teeth. There was a sickening tickle in his throat that this was an uncharacteristically reckless decision on Isengrin's part. Jaeger probably hadn't forgiven him for going along with it. His knuckles grew white as he gripped the railing. Renard hadn't forgiven himself.
x. "Oooh, this place is rustic!" Lo said, staring through the window. She rolled over in her bed and picked up a brush off the floor and tossed it toward her brother's head. Some turbulence over the channel caused their cabin to get shaken up.
"Hey! Crius, you alright over there?"
S3 AU pt. 1?
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renard-hates-you-blog · 12 years ago
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Oh, don't LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT WITH THOSE EYES YOU KNOW I CAN'T
WHAT.
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renard-hates-you-blog · 12 years ago
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*THAT AWKWARD MOMENT WHEN BITCHES ARE SO BEAUTIFUL YOU ACTUALLY KINDA CRY INSIDE*
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renard-hates-you-blog · 12 years ago
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*nonchalantly melts and dies*
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renard-hates-you-blog · 13 years ago
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"MOTHERRRRRRRRRFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKK"
"IZZY, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MY ROBOT????"
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renard-hates-you-blog · 13 years ago
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renard-hates-you-blog · 13 years ago
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AXE! MURDER! KILL!
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renard-hates-you-blog · 13 years ago
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"Herr Schwarz sends his regards."
{ Just... relevant. }
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renard-hates-you-blog · 13 years ago
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this is so accurate it hurts
but it hurts so good
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renard-hates-you-blog · 13 years ago
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> Y'want some coffee? Cocaine? Adderall? 
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renard-hates-you-blog · 13 years ago
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(via renard-hates-you)
>B[  
I hate you so much right now, Renard.
(via isengrin)
#i'm not sleeping with you anymore. #or your pretty boyfriend. ;-; #can't you see you're coming between me and our brother?
No, but that can be arranged.
I hear you're into that.
Hey Izzy, remember that time when we were having a threesome on the kitchen counter and Jack walked in and started to hate you even more than he already does? Good times. At least he didn’t see my dick.
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renard-hates-you-blog · 13 years ago
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Hey Izzy, remember that time when we were having a threesome on the kitchen counter and Jack walked in and started to hate you even more than he already does? Good times. At least he didn't see my dick.
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renard-hates-you-blog · 13 years ago
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*that feel when your brother starts making out with your boyfriend over your shoulder*
>8[
IZZY YOU FUCKING TRAITOR
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renard-hates-you-blog · 13 years ago
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I don't 
hold on to things
I need to let go of.   ( OOC: *coughdeadbrothercough* )
I'm not
moody.
I DON'T GET PROTECTIVE OF SHIT.
JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEGEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRR
PAAAY ATTENTION TOOOOOO MEEEEEEEEEEEE 
I'M BORREEEEDDDDD LETS FUUUUUUUCKKKKKK
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