#Because she can feel slightly connected more to her lost heritage

[moonilit]

I just know if Zack was there, he would have matched her energy Instantly

Edit: now with VA

[helionpegasus]

ceilings (part 4)

Azriel x Reader

masterlist

summary: Reader always had vivid dreams due her Seer heritage. But things take a twist in her life when she starts dreaming with a male she never seen, and wake up in a world that is not hers.

warnings: a bit angst 

words count: 3273

author’s note: damnnn this the biggest one so far! as always, thank you for your patience <3 and i hope you like it! :)

There was too much information to absorb. Azriel’s mind was spinning since he found the female yesterday, and now this? A chance of her being able to listen to his shadows? That’s definitely not how he expected to begin his week.

He was trying to understand how the shadows are so fond of her. Because once they announced she was awake, it takes all of his strength to control them. They were trying and trying to run directly to the female, and Azriel had no clue why. And if there’s one thing that makes the Shadowsinger upset, is not knowing what’s happening with something he used to have control of.

"I don't think my shadows have the power to travel between worlds." He states.

They were in the meeting room. Cassian, Nesta, Mor and Amren arrived right after the female told the story. She came with them, eyes wide with confusion, body slightly shaking, probably scared of all the situation and scared of them. 

He thought it was completely normal, given all she's been through the past day. They were a bunch of strangers to her, and she's also a stranger to them. That's why Azriel has been keeping his eye on her since they left the nursing room. She was clearly uncomfortable with the look he's giving her from the opposite side of the table, but didn't say a word of complaint.

"Maybe not traveling between worlds, but perhaps being able to connect with other shadows?" Feyre says to everyone but her stare was empty, like she's been trying to formulate a proper answer. "If she's able to hear them, like we think she is. Maybe she has such power in her world."

"I don't think that's possible." The girl says. Azriel was starting to think her accent is cute, but he'll never admit it. "I've never shown such power. I have a friend who has similar powers to that, I know how it is, but it just never happened to me. How can the first time it happens I end up in another world?

"Plus, how were you guys able to open a portal? I thought only the Horn were able to do that." Her facial features pulled in confusion.

"There's other objects that can open portals?" Nesta asked, straightening her back on the chair.

"In my world, there's the Luna Horn, a Fae relic that holds such power. My friend was trying to find it, her intentions was not to travel this much like me, but to Hel find help."

"She needs help with what?" Rhysand asks.

"Our world needs help."

Suddenly the atmosphere of the room was dense. They were still recovering from a War, now they were almost facing problems that weren’t even in their world.

Everyone got lost in their own thoughts.

Azriel didn’t waste time to call Rhysand in his mind.

“I think Nesta should play the Harp and we send this girl right where she came from.”  He said once he felt Rhys presence in his mind.

“Don’t be so intransigent. She’s not some dog that we can simply deliver back to the adoption care.”  His voice was firm. Making Azriel glance move to the High Lord for the first time since they arrived.

“Already so protective?”  

“Not protective, Azriel. I have values. This court as well.”

Azriel was angry, because (Y/N) clearly made him uncomfortable. He didn’t know why, but there was this strange feeling starting to rip in his chest, a feeling that was not welcoming.

He was even more scared of his friends realizing that something was wrong. And he freely gave Rhysand the first sample of it in their conversation.

Their full minds were interrupted by the loud sound of the travelers belly. The Inner Circle realizes that she hasn't eaten for a long time.

“I’m sorry. I got dragged here while I was making breakfast.” She said with eyes wide. Cheeks red with embarrassment.

“There is no reason to apologize!” Feyre turned herself to face the female at her left side. “You must be starving, come with me. I’ll get something for you.”

She got up signaling for the female to the door. Mor and Nesta followed them right after.

“I’m sure of one thing…” Amren says when the females exit the room. “Mother wouldn’t let the world portal open and let the girl slip in our court with no purpose.”

“The thing is if the purpose is good or not.” Cassian says.

“She came with your shadows, boy.” The gray eyes fixed themselves on Azriel. “They didn’t tell you anything?”

“No. Apparently they’re refusing to. All they told me was that they found her in a cavern and brought her here.”

“I thought you controlled them.”

“Yes, I do. But I can not control what they say to me.” 

The Shadowsinger’s voice was stiff. All he wanted was to have some free days to relax, and now it seemed like the Cauldron was throwing a bomb near to explode in his lap.

Rhysand and Cassian noticed their brother's change of mood since they saw him this morning at breakfast. Azriel was usually quiet, but now his silence was ice cutting.

*

You were walking in the hallways trying to remember all the turns you made on the big place those people called home, in case you needed to go back all by yourself.

At this point of the day, you were sure that in this world they were not near the advanced technology you had in Midgard. The lights were pure magic, not electricity; Their clothes were like the ones described in your favorite novels stuffed in your bookshelf and now while you were entering the kitchen you realize that they don’t even have a fridge.

“Do you want anything specific?” Feyre asked you. 

She has been nothing but lovely with you since you met her. Clearly not acting like most female rulers you know about.

“Anything is fine, really.” You answer her with a shy smile.

“A bit of everything then, I guess.” The High Lady gives you one of her own.

The counter in front of you was full of food in a blink. Your body stiffen in surprise. 

“How can you do that?”

“It’s the House.” The female that resembles Feyre says. Nesta, you remembered. “The House is conscient.”

“B-but how? It’s like a century spell or something like that?”

“Kinda like that.” Feyre says with a laugh. “There’s magic of a whole bloodline in this building, but I have to acknowledge that Nesta played an important part to make it more… alive.”

You read between the lines that they would not explain more than that to you, so you content yourself with only that.

Your belly was almost protesting again, which reminded you to make a move to eat something. The pies and cakes looked delicious, but eating something sweet being so long without eating anything didn’t sound really appealing, so you reach for a sandwich that was apparently with chicken and a salad. 

At your first bite you couldn’t control the growl of satisfaction leaving your lips. With everything happening all at once you didn’t even realize you were hungry. But now that you had so much in front of you, your stomach was anxious to be full of everything you lay your eyes on.

“So… (Y/N), what do you work with in your world? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.” The blonde female asked. Morrigan was a name that fitted her so well, you thought, both were extremely beautiful.

“I am in my last year of studies at Crescent City University.” You answer her once you swallow the food. The name coming out of your mouth is more familiar, saying in your accent and language. “I pretend to work with Social Sciences. I’m sorry, I don’t know how to say it in your language. But basically, I want to work with people. Understand different organizations and cultures, and also learn a lot of history. That’s how I learned a bit of this language.”

“That’s really cool. I don’t think we have anything like that!” Feyre says, eyes shining with curiosity.

“The Day Court must be doing something similar, but certainly not that deep.” Morrigan add.

“You must be really smart, then.” Nesta points, making you choke on the piece of pear you were eating.

“Don’t expect a lot.” You gave her a nervous laugh. “That’s how you are divided here? By courts?” You changed subjects, embarrassed by the statement.

“Yes, there are seven of them. Night Court, where you are right now, Day, Dawn, Summer, Winter, Autumn and Spring.” The blonde answered. “We’re in Prythian. In the Continent there’s more places, but there are no Courts, just territories.”

You nod in agreement, processing all the information. Two continents, from what they said until now, but there’s probably more.

“You said you didn’t have powers with the shadows, what powers do you have then?” Nesta asked, plating a piece of the strawberry for you and the three of them as well.

“I don’t have any outstanding power. I can levitate and summon objects like most Fae. My grandmother was a Seer, but I don’t have practice with this power, since it was always very unsteady.” 

“What do you mean unsteady?” Feyre asked.

“I don’t have visions out of nowhere like other Seers. It happened like once or twice, and it was nothing big and world saving. Lately I’ve been having a lot of them in my dreams, but I still don’t know if they’re exactly visions.” You feel the edge of your ears burning when you remember about Azriel. Still not trusting them so much to say such a thing. And you feel relieved to have your hair down.

 “How come you hear the shadows?” Morrigan looks at you. Her brown eyes piercing yours, like daring you.

“I-I don’t know. I heard them in one of those dreams as well, before everything.”

The blonde gaze softens, surprise flashing fast on them. Not going unnoticed by you, but you decide to not comment on it. The air in the kitchen suddenly thick.

“Well…” Feyre deflected our attention. “There’s anything more you need, (Y/N)?”

“I would like to clean myself if it’s possible.” Your voice was shy. Your body contorting while feeling the stick material of the dried blood in your shirt.

“Yes, of course! I’m sorry, we should have given you the time to clean yourself before everything.” She says grabbing your hand. “Nesta will lead you to a bedroom. You can clean yourself, put some new clothes on and later someone will pick you up for dinner.”

“Alright. Thank you so much, really. You’re making this whole experience a bit less traumatic.” A nervous laugh goes out of your mouth, your eyes watering.

“Don’t need to thank me. We’re gonna figure this all out.” Her arms embraced you. 

And how you needed this. The comfort settles in your body to calm your heart at least a little bit.

But that’s not when you break down. It was after Nesta led you down the hall, to a bedroom she said was near hers in case you needed anything. When you took your clothes off and the movements seemed more heavy than normal. It was when you sat inside the bathtub, your body covered in the warm water, muscles sore from everything that you broke down.

Tears falling down your face nonstop. A million thoughts per second all at once. So many feelings at the same time, fear, tiredness, relief, sadness, and mostly, you were feeling lost. When you finally meet the person you swear to yourself would answer all your questions and lead you to find the right path. You were feeling lost.

You were trying to steady your breath, not handling the hurt in your chest, like it was almost ripping itself open. Once you are feeling more calm, you finally start cleaning yourself. Washing your hair that still has some leaves from the forest, your nails still with mud and face that you doubted that the tears already did the job for you. You trace your finger in the thin scar that took place in your ribcage, but stopped before you got caught in a loop of thoughts again.

A small presence made itself known caressing your forearm out of the bathtub. A shadow lacing itself on your arm like a bracelet.

“You’re here to give information to your master? On how pitiful I am?” You ask quietly to the dark smoke, not expecting an answer.

The shadow only hugs your arm tighter. 

“I’ll consider this a no. It would be really disrespectful to take information from me while I’m bathing, though.”

It makes no way to leave your arm. Circling your wrist and forearm continuously.

“I guess I’m supposed to be able to hear you. Do you have anything to say?”

“Nothing for now.” 

Your body shivers seeing the shadow move to your ear and back to your arm. So it was really it. The voice you heard before was the same as this one.

You got out of the bathtub with a sigh, deciding the time was done. Confused on how the water didn’t go cold. 

Once in the bedroom you went to the drawer Nesta mentioned to find something to wear. You put a black leggings and a dark blue sweater that seemed to be the clothes you’re more used to. Socks and a pair of boots to your cold feet.

You used a product that seemed to be a hair product and brushed your hair. Your guess must have been right, because your hair detangle really easily. You finish it up and let it down to dry faster.

Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you realized how your eyes were swollen from all the crying and your nose red. You’re only hope was to not be so noticeable when the dinner starts.

“There’s anything for me to do while waiting? Maybe there’s a book here somewhere.” You say to no one.

You hear a muffled thud in a table near the fireplace, an inviting armchair placed near it. A book was settled on the table, a cup of fuming tea beside it.

“So you’re really conscient.” You say looking at the ceiling, and get by surprise when you see the reflections of the windows making a whole constellation in there.

“A romance, you have good taste. I think I’m gonna spend a lot of time like this to improve my knowledge in the language. Any chance you keep doing this?”

The house answer was a pile of books next to the one it placed before.

“Thank you!” You smiled brightly.

You don’t know how much time you spend reading, but you were progressing very well considering that you haven't read in the language for quite a long time. The reading got interrupted by a knock on the door. Nesta welcomed you with a soft smile when you opened it, but it slowly disappeared.

“You’re okay?” She asked, a little worried.

“Y-Yes, my eyes are still swollen?” Your hand goes right to your eyes, patting it to feel the damage.

“A little bit.”

“You can eat here in the bedroom if you prefer.” The winged male behind Nesta suggested with a look of concern in his eyes as well. Cassian, her mate.

“Ugh, it looks really that bad?” You run your hands in your face not knowing if you cover it or accept your fate.

“No! Your face looks totally fine. You’re even cleaner now!” He says.

Nesta slaps her own forehead before slapping Cassian’s arm.

“What Cassian is trying to say is that if you are still uncomfortable and prefer to be by yourself tonight is completely alright. But we would appreciate your presence with us as well.” The female says calmly to you.

“Yes, I would like to go with you.” You said a bit shy.

“Perfect!” Nesta says and you close the door behind you to follow them to the dining room. 

Cassian eyes go strictly to your forearm, where the shadow is still resting. The small smile that shows in his face eases your heart.

Everyone else was in the dining room, the big table was already settled. But there was a presence of two people you haven't met yet. The first was the little baby sleeping in Feyre arms, that you supposed was called Nyx. The second was a brunette girl sitting on the opposite side of Azriel. 

The conversation eases when they notice you three arrived.

“(Y/N), let me present to you.” Rhysand starts. “This is Elain. Feyre and Nesta’s sister.” He pointed to the brunette, who gave you a small smile. “And the little one is Nyx, my son.” He caresses the little boy's head.

“Nice to meet you.” You say to Elain with a smile. The female just nods in your direction.

“Let’s eat, I’m starving!” Cassian says, making Nesta roll her eyes. 

She led you to the table, to sit beside her, Azriel on your right.

Then everyone enters in a conversation and serves their own plates. Nesta serves your plate before you could feel shy to do it by yourself, you say a quiet thank you to her. 

The dinner flowed fast. They shared stories and news, you stayed quiet most of the time, only answering when the question was asked directly at you. You just didn’t know exactly where to place yourself there when they seemed so complete.

“You almost didn’t eat. Didn’t like the food?” Morrigan asked you.

“Oh, no! The food is delicious, I’m just full from earlier.” You explain yourself and she makes an expression like reminding what happened in the kitchen.

“That little one seems really fond of you, (Y/N).” Cassian points at your right forearm with a smirk. “It was there the whole dinner.”

Everyone's gaze went right to you, making your cheeks burn. Azriel stiff himself in the chair when he sees the shadow. The little thing quickly went to its master, twirling itself along with the others on his shoulders.

“I’m sorry. They’re quite… Wild these days.” Azriel says to you.

“It’s okay, They are quite comforting.” You say with a small smile for him, already missing the light feeling in your arm.

Azriel only looks at you in a way you didn’t recognize, then he clears his throat, making everyone go back to what they were talking before.

Later that night, you twisted and turned but couldn’t get yourself to sleep. Mostly scared of what could happen while you sleep. You were on the verge of tears of frustration when you felt a familiar feeling in your arm. There was the shadow again, making you smile to yourself.

“You sense when I’m needing help?” You whisper to the shadow twirling in your wrist. “Thank you.”

With a comfortable presence and the warm bed the House made, it wasn’t a long time for you to fall asleep.

*

When you looked around you couldn’t place where you were. It was dark, really dark, and cold. It got you bracing yourself even with  the thick sweater on.

You hear whispers, coming from behind you.

When you turn around you have to force your vision to see clearly. There was a kid embracing themself in the corner of the place.

“Hello?” You call in a low voice.

The kid looks at you. Eyes big with fear.

You know those eyes. The wings in his back were just a confirmation.

In front of you was Azriel as a kid.

taglist (overlined users i couldn’t tag):

@humanpersonlasttimeichecked @valeridarkness @his-sweet-nightmare @leeknows-wife @mich0731 @kristalhi @marina568 @brekkershadowsinger @cafe-inaaa @lovierhys @kenmaisacinnamonroll @alt-ghost @marigold-morelli @thelightnddarkness @amysangel @thecraziestcrayon @fall-myriad @a-court-of-milkandhoney @hungryforbatboys @elizarikaallen @allison-rosewood-maximoff​ @gamarancianne @weirdo-fun​

[wrightingdungeon]

Carra

Here you can find their faces

Age: 19/20 Species: Half Blue Slime Sexuality: Panromantic Pronouns: She/Her

Personality: Carra is a kind-hearted and gentle soul who often sees the good in everyone and everything. Her airhead tendencies make her a bit scatterbrained and forgetful, as she frequently daydreams and loses track of tasks. Despite this, she maintains a positive outlook on life, even when faced with challenges.

Her loyalty and devotion are evident in her deep care for her family and friends, she's always willing to drop everything to support them. Carra's natural curiosity, especially about her biological family and heritage, drives her inquisitive nature. She stays up-to-date with trends and closely follows people on social media, including her biological mother, Elora.

Romantic at heart, Carra loves to get lost in romantic tales and is often a maladaptive dreamer. Her naivety makes her somewhat susceptible to manipulation, as she's sometimes unaware of the true cruelty of the world. A perfectionist by nature, she has taken over the task of arranging dating bouquets because she dislikes the colors Pierre uses and wants everything to be perfect for the new couple. While water doesn't hurt her, it does make her less sticky.

She has greater witch DNA compared to slime.

Life:

Early Childhood:

Carra was raised by her adoptive mother after being abandoned by Elora. Despite a rough start as a test subject for the first eight months of her life, she had a nurturing and happy childhood.

Sheltered Upbringing: Her adoptive mother sheltered her somewhat until she was 17, providing a safe and protected environment that shielded her from many of the harsher realities of the world. This sheltered upbringing contributed to Carra's naive and optimistic outlook.

Discovery of Heritage: Her adoptive mother informed her about her biological mother, Elora, once she turned 18. Carra became fascinated with the idea of her biological family and secretly followed Elora on social media to learn more. She knows the most about Elora compared to her siblings.

School: Attended a public school, she was well-liked by peers and teachers alike, and known for her bubbly demeanor.

Social Media: Discovered more about her biological family through social media, including details about her siblings. She found out about Nessa from social media and was excited to learn about her, while Dante was a surprise when she finally met him.

Florist Job: Worked as a florist in the city, where she enjoyed creating beautiful arrangements and connecting with people. Her job allowed her to express her creativity and love for nature.

Decision to Move: After learning about her siblings and feeling a strong desire to be close to them, Carra decided to drop everything and move to Pelican Town. She felt it was important to be with her family and contribute to their lives.

Communication with Adoptive Mom: Despite moving away, Carra remains in regular contact with her adoptive mother, maintaining a close relationship.

Physical Traits: Appearance: Average height (5'6"), blue-tinted skin with a slightly translucent quality, wavy blue hair, bright blue eyes, petite and slender build, always smiling, freckles, her skin is more wet and tacky than normal humans, sometimes making her work like a walking lint roller. This her dislike the chickens because their feathers stick to her easily.

Abilities:

Practical: Basic Potion Brewing: Can brew simple potions which she often uses to help her siblings and friends. Plant Communication: Has a unique ability to communicate with plants, making her a skilled florist and gardener. Talks shit about her siblings with the carrots

Physical: Slime Form: Can partially shift into a more fluid, slime-like form, allowing her to slip through tight spaces or avoid physical harm. (She basically liquefies her body a bit) Enhanced Flexibility: Increased flexibility and agility, making her quick on her feet and able to perform acrobatic maneuvers.

Weapon: Slime Constructs: Can create small constructs, such as barriers or tendrils, to protect herself or assist in combat. Elemental Infusion: Can infuse herself with limited elemental properties, such as electricity or ice, to enhance her offensive or defensive capabilities.

[magicalqueersarah]

Aerith, the Last of the Cetra

from a Jewish POV

Aerith is a huge part of why I love Final Fantasy 7. This is partly because she and the Cetra are somewhat Jewish coded.

Spoilers below

This is pretty blatant, since they're an ethnoreligious people trying to find the promised land, just like the ancient Hebrews. This promised land is a metaphor, which is a common belief in real life. The Cetra spend their whole lives trying to find the promised land, but it's within. It's not a physical place, it's being one with the planet by taking care of it and letting it flourish, then returning to it after death. The Cetra's relationship with the Lifestream parallels the concept of tikkun olam, repairing the world. I could go on about how Kabbalah influenced FF7 but I won't do that in this post. On to Aerith.

On a surface level, Aerith is striking to me. FF7 takes place in a world largely based on Modern Earth. Aerith wears a pink dress and bow to symbolize her femininity, a biker jacket to show her toughness, and gardening boots to show her relationship with the planet.

Her hair is slightly curly, which reminds me of my own. Aerith's last name came from Serge Gainsbourg, a Jewish and French singer.

She was adopted during a war after her mother died escaping a lab. They were experimented on and persecuted by an evil Corporatocracy who tried to use them to find the Promised Land, a source of infinite mako, and thus, infinite riches. This parallels the long history of Antisemitism and modern "Philo"semitism(Evangelicals want all the Jews to colonize Palestine so that Jesus will kill all of us and the Palestinians by starting the rapture :) https://www.aljazeera.com/opinions/2021/5/26/biden-palestine-and-the-buttressing-of-christian-zionism). Only Aerith's mom is a Cetra, but she is 100% Cetran which is just like halakhic tradition and how all Jews are equally Jewish, regardless of what our DNA looks like. Even if all of this is unintentional, Aerith is Jewish coded.

Rebirth reveals that Aerith has been alienated all her life, her Cetran heritage and abilities being the subject of bullying. Though she kept it hidden from those who persecuted her, she was able to connect to her ancestors by cultivating the planet and growing flowers at home and in an abandoned church. Aerith admits she doesn't know how to pray properly because her mom never taught her, which really resonates with me. When she comforts Marlene because Shinra is going to destroy her home, I think Aerith is reminded of her and her mother being forcibly removed from their homes.

Even many ethnoreligious agnostic or atheist people will still practice their ancestral religion, philosophy, and culture in some way, to keep in touch with their history. But many of us have lost parts of our culture because of ethnic and cultural genocide. I've had to hide and stand up for my Jewish identity because people would make violent jokes about us, or accuse us of murdering their god.

Aerith is plucky, kind, and savvy. She lives life to the fullest, becomes more in touch with her heritage, and works to repair the world. She fights against a greedy corporation and a Messianic Jew who's trying to forcefully spread Christianity mass murdering super soldier who claims to be a Cetra and the rightful ruler of the Planet. She inspires me as a Trans Jewish woman.

So it's really devastating that Aerith, the only known Cetra, dies. Not only does an important member of the party get murdered, the world loses an entire people.

it is implied throughout the compilation of FF7 that Marlene has inherited a connection to the Cetra through Aerith. In the original game's ending she can sense Aerith before the Lifestream erupts to stop Meteor, and she is able to sense her father in Remake. Aerith says she holds the white materia when she wants to feel safe. The Ultimania reveals that Aerith let Marlene hold it to feel safe during the evacuation of Sector 7. In Advent Children, Marlene has inherited Aerith's mannerisms and insight, and has begun taking care of Midgar's flowers. I believe this means at least some of humanity will become Cetra; Inheriting their culture and taking care of the planet.

So yeah, Aerith is tied for my favorite Final Fantasy character with Tifa :P. She is a great character and I feel connected to her because of the hardships she's faced as a marginalized person, and her willingness to live life to the fullest, heal the world, and fight injustice.

[fighting-these-demons]

Another AU idea :

What if instead of Yus*ke dying it was Ke*ko?

(Whoops. Forgot the Read More earlier.)

Her death was just as unexpected and she's given the same option.

What if the timeline of events was slightly different?

To give Yus*ke powers I'm sure they'd have worked together and found a way to convince Koe*ma that Yus*ke's Spirit Energy should be unlocked for him so that they can work as partners.

What if the connection between the Kuw*baras and Spirit World and Makai is brought into greater detail and Kaz*ma still ends up joining her? (Although tbh Kaz*ma would follow Yus*ke to Hell and if Ke*ko is going Yus*ke is definitely going so that might not be necessary)

What if the story was Yus*ke and Kaz*ma being her sidekicks and she was the main character?

What if her very first mission was to rescue Yuk*na?

What if H*ei and Kur*ma still joined the team? But out of order.

H*ei sees them saving Yuk*na and helps during that mission and decides to kind of hover around in the shadows checking in on them all and helping occasionally.

Kur*ma still organizes the heist but instead of H*ei, who he's seen working with spirit world agents he just convinces some other demon into doing his bidding.

Forlorn Hope situation pans out the same essentially and Kur*ma helps set things right and joins from there.

And then we have the G*nkai training arc where Ke*ko convinces G*nkai to train Yus*ke too and she convinces Yus*ke by not being entirely honest about how difficult it is.

She says that it's the most difficult experience that she's ever been through (and with the team forming missions so far: that's saying something!) , but that it was entirely worth it and that Yus*ke will need the training for future missions. Ko*nma and B*tan agree so Yus*ke eventually relents and agrees to do the training too.

And that's all true.... She just conveniently leaves out the horror stories so that Yus*ke actually agrees. 🤣 She knows in her heart that if she can get through it that he can get through it too. She's always looked up to him for his strength and resilience and his willingness to put himself in harms way to protect the people he cares about (granted that's basically just himself his mom and Ke*ko but still, Ke*ko knows his heart!) so she doesn't feel too torn up about the omission.

Yus*ke's pissed during training of course and gives Ke*ko an earful when he gets back. 😂 But he's also happy to join her in bragging about his new abilities to Kaz*ma.

Little does Yus*ke know or expect that G*nkai will be training Kaz*ma eventually too. 😂

Ke*ko has a feeling that it's important to G*nkai that she trains Kaz*ma but Ke*ko's not quite sure why that is; other than maybe G*nkai seeing a lot of promise in Kaz*ma.

Heck Yus*ke would have been the second choice. His spirit power is MASSIVE as a result if his -unbeknownst to him- demon heritage.

Ke*ko is definitely behind in a few areas but she manages to get through everything because it's my au and I said so dangit! Maybe she has a secret powerful priestess lineage lost to time or something that helps her out Spirit Energy-wise sort of like Kag*me in In*-Y*sha.

ANYWAY.

G*nkai stays as an alternate and coach for the Da*k Tourn*ment.

There's probably more areas with plot divergences and the like but I wanted to write this down before I lost it

I just liked the thought and wanted to share.

It's a Yuki*iko Kuw*meshi and possibly Kuwakinakeikomeshi YuYuP*lycule situation for ships.

[definitely-not-a-wasp]

I'm okay with a bunch of disorganized rambling honestly 😂. But if I had to narrow it down then I guess I want to know about main and side characters and how they compare to the original?

I know that tumblr is the Prime Site for disorganized rambling, but I have perfectionism issues. But that is a great question, nonnie, and I will be happy to ramble is a slightly less disorganized fashion.

When reading Maximum Ride as a somewhat-formed adult who discovered they enjoy English classes about 3.5 years ago, I noticed that JP, when writing, doesn't understand consistency. At all. Which means, in many ways, I have a free sandbox to work with.

Spoilers for my rewrite WIP, because I strongly believe that if a story would no longer be good if one had spoilers, then it wasn’t a good story in the first place.

I'm trying to keep the backstories the same, plus or minus the scientific method and a few characters (RIP my OCs. I want to bring you back so bad but it wouldn't fit with the thematic narrative). I've mostly kept their (starting) abilities the same, too. Without further ado, I'm going to introduce some WorldBuilding. (If I'm good at nothing else, I'm good at world building)

First off. Logically.

How are they getting Cable?

How are they getting internet?

How are they getting money to eat and stuff?

JP's answer: handwave it off. Sometimes you need to ignore logistics for the sake of plot. This is an answer I'd accept from an author that I like, such as Julie Kagawa, that makes amazing worlds, characters, and narratives that I will happily handwave a few things that wouldn't work in the real world. James Patterson, on the other hand, did not make any of that; he made a cool concept, some good rough-draft characters, and nothing else, and therefore this is an unforgivable sin.

Wasp's answer: They are not getting any of that.

Introducing Cottagecore.

The house is off the grid. Solar Panels and a wind turbine create electricity. They have their own well. They grow their own food, raise livestock for eggs, milk, and wool, and trap fish for meat. They get money through dumpster diving and pawning. They still have to steal half of the necessities they can’t make themselves. They do have a TV, but it can access about three channels on a clear day. Internet is only a thing when they go to the public library.

Giving the flock a background that’s heavy in farming and livestock rearing shores up the plot holes mentioned above, but in my opinion, ties the flock more tightly to the environment, thus giving them something tangible to lose when they have to leave the E-shaped house. Because they’re not just leaving a house and a safety net— they’re leaving their entire way of life with no promise of getting it back. It also gives them a tangible connection to the earth in case I want to actually pursue the global warming themes.

Main Characters

Maximum “Max” Ride (Birthname: nonexistent)

First off, I'm letting her be Latina, James Patterson.

In the original, Max was very much the headstrong, independent, action girl. Leaning into Strong Female Character (TM), but overall she had a strong, solid foundation and enough character consistency through the first three books for me to not have to just make an entire new character. However, I felt that she was, in some ways, a bit too Action-Girl and Strong and Capable. Yes, Max is incredible and competent, but she’s also fourteen. She’s a child.

In the rewrite, Max’s character is still headstrong, independent, capable, and sometimes not the best at listening to others. All of that’s the same. But she’s that way not because of girlboss energy, but because there’s no one else to do it. She doesn’t want to lead, necessarily. She wants to get some rest and let someone else handle the problems life keeps throwing at her. But she knows if she did that, the responsibility of leader would fall to Fang and Iggy, and she can’t ask that of them. She doesn’t want to place that burden on anyone else (Look, there’s a reason I chose Ayano’s Theory of Happiness as one of her signifier songs, okay?). Her narrative is very much centered around burden, and also around loss. She lost her cultural heritage when she was taken away from her birth family, she lost her childhood to being a leader, she lost a good deal of her friends to the school (RIP my OCs), she lost Jeb, and then she lost her stability. And she’s going to lose a lot more before the end of the story. So a lot of her character arc deals with learning that there are some things she can’t fix, some things that can’t be recovered. She can’t get the E-shaped house back. She can’t get her Little Baby Angel back, even after they rescue her. She can’t get her friends back from the school. And instead of working so hard to recover those or find something to replace them, she has to learn to live with that sense of loss and move on with her life without feeling guilty for leaving things behind. And she has to learn that asking for help and sharing her burden is selfish or weak.

Other changes I made that don’t necessarily fit into her narrative arc, but you asked for rambling so rambling you shall get:

Max hallucinates, because mental illness is also a prominent theme in the rewrite. She doesn’t have a psychotic disorder, but her C-PTSD causes visual/audio hallucinations, especially when she’s stressed or sleep deprived. 

Max ends up having a Gender Discovery throughout the story and goes by He/She pronouns eventually. I don’t know when, but it will happen.

As far as genetic modifications/special quirks go, she can fly faster than the rest of the flock, but not 300 miles per hour. She averages about sixty mph with diving speeds of 240. She cannot breathe underwater or shut down her organs on command. She also has the Super Special Power to predict the weather, but that’s not because of genetics, it’s because she has chronic pain in her right arm that gets worse when weather fronts change.

Her favored weapon is her trusty rebar that she picked up from a condemned building. I think she’s going to name it eventually but I don’t know what yet.

Fang (Birth name: Gabriel Xue)

In canon, Fang is characterized in early books by being the “dark, strong, silent type”. He’s probably the most reserved member of the flock, to the point of falling into the Brooding Mystery Man trope in parts of the book. They care a lot, but they’re not the best at conveying that, especially with the younger members of the flock, and at times their high empathy leads them to making mistakes. Despite the high empathy, he’s often compared to a robot due to his lack of expression and external emotions.

Well, first change is that they’re not a man, so jot that down—

If Max’s narrative is centered around burden and loss, I would probably say that Fang’s is centered around humanity and moving on. None of the flock was treated as human while in the school, but Fang was more often than not treated like a wild animal due to “behavioral issues”, and therefore had and continues to have a difficult time considering themselves real and alive, let alone human. This manifests through a several different ways— where in canon Fang definitely had a ‘fight’ reaction, in the re-write they have a ‘freeze’ or ‘shut down’ instinct. They’re selectively mute for multiple reasons (including derealization, jaw pain, the fact that they didn’t learn how to speak until they were 10, and genuinely forgetting it’s something they’re capable of), a period of Cotard’s syndrome, and a tendancy towards self-loathing and self-sacrifice. In short, Fang is still halfway stuck in the mindset that most of the flock grew out of when they escaped in the school, and doesn’t know how to move past it.

Much of their character arc revolves around not necessarily seeing themselves as human, but learning to treat themselves as human even when they don’t feel like one (or even feel real), and knowing that just because they don’t feel human all the time doesn’t mean anyone else can treat them the same. They never start easily expressing their emotions, and they’re always going to be selectively mute, but they learn to accept that those aspects of themself aren’t character flaws or signs that they’re sub-human. 

Other additions to Fang’s character include:

They don’t get their hair cut in New York. It stays long through the entire series. They have the longest hair in the flock by the end of the series, and they can wear it in so many styles.

Fang uses they/it pronouns because themes of reclaiming the weapons used against it and, more importantly, Gender.

They’re actually really good at spelling compared to the rest of the flock, because they and Iggy communicate with Print-On-Palm when they’re nonverbal, and they’re nonverbal for some pretty long stretches of time. 

They and Max have... zero romantic tension. At all. There is none. The number of times Max calls them her sibling/little sibling in the first arc alone is staggering, and that will not change.

Igneous “Iggy” (Birthname: Jamsetta “Jamie” Griffiths)

I’ve talked about Iggy before. Canon doesn’t give us much to go off of, but from what’s shown, he’s smart, sarcastic, has sharper edges than Fang and Max, and also has a sizable ruthless streak. So that’s what I have to go off of.

The big difference between Iggy and Fang&Max is that Iggy has a much better memory of the School. Most of the flock have areas (months or years) that they don’t remember, or people that they’ve blocked from their mind, but Iggy... doesn’t. So he’s the one that remembers all of the other AVIAN test subjects that were old enough to have names and identities but died due to complications. Max might have the burden of leadership, but he has the burden of memory. And that has lead to both a massive fucking guilt complex, because why did he survive when they didn’t, and, as mentioned above, a ruthless streak that he doesn’t shy away from.

Which is to say, by the end of the story, Iggy has the highest kill count.

I love, love writing Iggy next to Max and Fang. I love writing Iggy next to Gazzy and Nudge. Because, I say this with all of the love of the world, but Iggy is not a good person. He is loyalty and love incarnate, and the world can burn down if he and his siblings are safe. Max and Fang will always try to save as many people as they can. They will wonder what’s wrong with them the first time they kill and don’t have a mental breakdown about it. They are good in a way that Iggy is not. He’s okay with killing Erasers. He’s okay with killing humans. He’s okay with killing people who might not necessarily deserve it, if they show themselves as a threat or are simply in the blast radius. He knows perfectly well that most of those Erasers he’s murdering are four and five and he is okay with that, because a lot of the AVIANs were that age when they died. (Yeah, in the rewrite it’s not Fang who has an issue with Ari; it’s Iggy who wants the 7-year-old wolf-boy dead.) 

And this is, of course, juxtaposed with Iggy being really, really good with Nudge and Gazzy (especially in the beginning). Because, again, he actually remembers being a child. He remembers a lot of kids that died and is therefore fiercely protective of the kids that didn’t, as well as fiercely protective of the innocence that he never got. So he’s the one that cooks their favorite foods when they’re having a bad day, always makes time when they want to talk about something, and convinces Max to let them go to that toy store in New York because, yeah, he Max and Fang aren’t kids. They never were. But Nudge, Gazzy, and Angel can be. (And if he has to be a murderer to preserve that, then he’s perfectly okay with that.)

He and Angel don’t get along very well, though. The telepath doesn’t like hanging out with the person with the most clear memories of the school.

Other additions:

Iggy is trans and says trans rights

He also has paranoid episodes, because C-PTSD. Sometimes they’re very helpful. Sometimes they are not.

I actually decided that he’s one of the flock that doesn’t meet their parents. I know in canon he did, but I always found that very clunky because it didn’t add to his character. He was one of the characters who, until it was convenient for the plot, seemed to care the least about his family. I’d much rather give that to a character whose arc would benefit from it.

Iggy! Gets! Older Sibling Rights! Seriously, he’s two months younger than Fang, he is just as capable.

Iggy does not know braille because Jeb decided it wasn’t necessary for him to know. Iggy is also the best speller in the flock, because Print-on-Palm was the only way to talk to Fang for a solid year. Yes he mocks everyone over this.

Iggy is the only member of the flock that enjoys swimming and can take into the air from water. Everyone else in the flock is incredibly jealous.

Nudge (Birthname: Monique Robinson)

If Iggy is defined by his memories, Nudge is his polar opposite. She was seven when she left the School, but she has next to no memories of it. She is missing a lot of time in the first year she escaped. And that causes... a lot of things. It makes her feel disconnected from her older siblings, it gives her the ability to function in society in a way the other’s can’t, it lets her feel less grief over the ones that didn’t make it and she doesn’t remember, it makes her feel guilty that she doesn’t remember what she’s old enough to know. 

Basically, in order for me to keep the character of Nudge as I saw her (more extroverted, not afraid of the world, fascinated with humans like her siblings aren’t, desiring to fit in instead of isolate), I had to put a little bit of distance between her and the flock. Of course, she loves them— that will in no way change— but she’s old enough that she should remember the school (and her dead friends) unlike Gazzy and Angel, but she can’t, and she very much fears forgetting the flock if anything happens to them. So she’s trying desperately to keep the flock close and wants desperately to experience the world at the same time, and doesn’t know what to do when she can’t have both. That’s her biggest character conflict throughout the series, along with that in-between area where she’s not quite where her older siblings are but understands so much more than Gazzy and Angel, and where she stands in that.

So yeah. Nudge’s journey is that in looking for belonging in the world, in her family, and in herself.

This is why she’s one of the ones that gets to find her parent, James Patterson. 

Other additions include:

She never straightens her hair. Never. Her resources at the E-shaped house aren’t perfect, but she still has learned how to take care of her hair and has a few styles she cycles through.

She becomes the default person Max sics on people when the flock is trying to befriend them. Also their de-facto diplomat around strangers.

As in canon, she does take some time away from the flock to expirience ‘normal life’. This does not last long due to the stress of being separated from her siblings/not being able to help them and [REDACTED]

Nudge is... not the only person in her head. I’m not focusing on it much because she doesn’t actually know and neither does the flock (I don’t know if they ever figure it out during the series, either), but she has dissociative identity disorder. She’s not aware of her alter(s?). Her alter isn’t super aware of her, either. 

The alter that I’ve developed is named Oxy and is not super aware of the outside world. In her eyes, she’s still seven and they’re still at the School. She would not recognize the body as her own if she looked in a mirror.

Nudge actually leaves the flock for a while to pursue her dream of living a normal life. She deserves it. She learns how to make muffins and the basics of software development. These things are unrelated.

Gasman (Birthname: No first name, surname “Falk”)

Honestly, writing Gazzy is kind of hard for me. Partially because I’m not great at writing kids, and partially because I feel like he’s a pretty surface-level character in-series that... isn’t super compelling in canon. But even if that’s the case, I try to treat all of my characters with respect, so here we go. In my rewrite, he escaped when he was four, which was half a lifetime ago for him, so his memories are ill-defined. Therefore, he managed to circumvent a lot of the trauma that the rest of the kids have, and not in the way Nudge did, which is by creating an elaborate blockage in her memories. 

Which means Gazzy... really doesn’t know how to deal with all of this traumatic stuff happening. So much of his development turns out to be a coming-of-age narrative. Learning how to deal with the horrors of what his siblings grew up with. Learning the fears that they had the entire time. Losing his innocence when everyone around him never had it in the first place, and being so terribly alone because of it. Because, really, how can you explain such a deep loss to people who never had what he had? How can they help in a way that matters?

Also, relationship-wise, I’m slowly deteriorating the relationship between him and Iggy. Slowly. Or, changing it, at least. Gazzy hero-worships Iggy in-series, and for good reason, because Iggy is super cool, especially in the eyes of an eight-year-old, and especially when Iggy has taken care to cultivate parts of his behaviors to be child-friendly. Part of growing up is seeing the flaws in your heroes, and Gazzy has to learn how to deal with it. End of the series Gazzy is much less closer to Iggy than beginning of the series Gazzy, and neither of them are really okay with that, but they learn to live with it, because that’s really all they can do.

Notes:

I’m keeping the mimickry! It plays a bit of a bigger role because that’s how Gazzy learned to talk. I’m debating whether or not he has his own voice or if he just borrows the flock’s as he sees fit. He also uses it to scream really loudly and occaisonally burst the eardrums of Erasers.

At one point he cosplays as Jessica Jones. No you don’t get any more context than this.

He has a horrible sense of fashion.

I’m changing his name eventually because it sucks. He’s either going to change it to Gannet, Garrison, or Ivy Mike temporarily, and permanently to Zephyr. (I never said I was going to make his name GOOD, because he’s eight, but it’s changing. You’re welcome.)

Angel (Birthname: No first name, surname “Falk”)

It’s just... a completely different character, at this point. I’ve changed so many things about her in an attempt to make her consistent and act like a six-year-old and work in the whole “telepath before she has a solid sense of identity”, so it’s a different character. Also, I’m tired of writing coherently or in paragraphs, so have some interesting facts.

She has epilepsy! Super severe epilepsy! I think she might also develop juvenile MS in the future because her brain has so many scars from being a fucking six-year-old telepath. There’s no way she could get out of that unscathed.

She has more memories of the school than Gazzy, but only because she keeps accidentally reading the minds of Max, Fang, and Iggy. On a related note, she interacts with Iggy as little as possible.

The mind reading means that she has a hard time developing as a normal child with a normal sense of identity or reality. She can’t tell how much people are individual people and how much they’re just extensions of her. Conversely, she can’t tell how much of herself is actually her instead of the thoughts/opinions/identities of someone else. It’s... kinda fucked? But also super not-her-fault. 

She’s albino because white wings. Also, because I thought it was cool. This also means that her vision sucks, though. Also she has the biggest straw sunhat and the most stylish sunglasses a six-year-old can have.

She’s responsible for Max shaving her hair off.

She has the highest swear count because I think it’s funny. She’s the only person allowed to say the fuck word in writing. Everyone else can only say ‘hell’ and the occasionally ‘damn’ but she can say whatever she wants for dramatic and comedic value.

She is NOT THE FUCKING VOICE, J*MES P*TTERSON.

Honorable Mentions

Jeb

I’m skipping Jeb because of how little I care about him. He’s a little bitch, next character.

Ari

STILL HASN’T BEEN REVEALED AS AN ERASER. I’ve been writing for 50,000 words and he’s over here saying ‘nope nope not yet, not dramatic enough’. He’s had speaking lines but has refused to make himself known to Max. I am so frustrated with this seven-year-old wolf-child that I’ve already considered how I would kill him, if I decide I want to kill yet another child in my writing.

So, my main thoughts for Ari is that he... really just drew the short end of the stick in every possible way. While Jeb didn’t sign him up for Eraser expirimentation, he didn’t do anything to stop it, and pretty much cut his losses when he realized this expiriment made a wreck of his ‘perfect, unflawed’ son, because Jeb doesn’t consider children of any species to actually be humans. So, Ari really hates his dad, which makes things complicated, because he also really loves his dad and really wants his approval. 

Which means that he also really hates Max, because she’s the child that always got Jeb’s time and attention, even when Ari was human. I think, on some level, he knows that trying to tear Max down to a less-favored level isn’t actually going to help his situation— infighting for the love of an abusive parent won’t make them any less abusive— but he’s also seven, and his development is already severely stunted due to becoming an Eraser, and he doesn’t see ‘leaving ITEX’ as an option like the Flock does. ITEX is his everything. It’s all he’s ever known, and they tell him he’s doing the right thing, and he wants them to love him. He wants his father to love him. He knows that if he ever questions ITEX, his father will never love him. So it must be his older sister that’s ruining his life and being a horrible child, and once Ari drags her back down to his level, Jeb will realize who the best child is and love him properly again.

Ari, on an even deeper level, does care for Max quite a bit, because she’s his older sister and he wants that to mean something in a way that ‘Jeb being his father’ obviously doesn’t. He wants what she made for herself, and he hates the Flock because she loves them and obviously doesn’t love him. 

Ari, if anything, is the product of neglect, and both loves and hates everyone who shows a chance of caring about him. And he’s seven, so he can’t notice these patterns, let alone break them.

So. Notes!

He doesn’t look like an adult. I thought that was gross and unnecessary. He’s seven, but he looks closer to thirteen or fourteen. Still young enough that he looks like every Eraser’s little brother, and the Erasers high-key treat him like it.

On a related note, he’s the only Eraser who can talk. The others don’t have the mental capacity or vocal structure to replicate human speech, but they can understand language (at about the level of a two or three year old) and are very good at nonverbal communication. This is why Ari managed to climb the ranks despite only having three years of “service” and also looking like a tween.

He doesn’t have an expiration date because that is SUCH a stupid plot point.

I’m giving him a chainsaw! I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but he deserves to have a chainsaw and GODDAMN I will give it to him.

Emergency and Gene

The OCs that I love and also killed pre-series. They don’t have any scenes, because they’re dead, but their deaths greatly effected Max, Fang, and Iggy, and they are very commonly referenced. Their voices are probably Max’s most common hallucination, to the point where she sometimes pretends they’re ghosts that she can talk to. They’re not ghosts. They’re dead.

Dr. Valencia Martinez

I’m actually keeping her pretty close to canon— loving, supportive, the type of person to take in a gsw victim with minimal questions. The difference is that rather than kindness fueling her actions, it’s incredible guilt. She has three goals surrounding Max: Give her as much support in any way she can, teach her as much about chicane culture as possible, and never let Max know that she’s her birth parent.

(She’s probably going to fail at AT LEAST two of those, but it’s the thought that counts.)

Notes:

She has a pet fox named Robin Hood that she rescued from an exotic animal salesman that got arrested.

I think I’m going to kill her. I don’t know yet, but it’s on the table.

Anne Walker

Y’know, the fake FBI Agent. Who’s not actually a fake in my story because I hated that plot point. She’s genuinely an FBI agent who put the Flock into pseudo-witness-protection in order to build a case against the Institute of Higher Living, accidentally got attached to her prime witnesses, raised them for a few months, realized a [SPOILER] and promptly had to let them get the hell out dodge.

I really like the Anne Walker that lives in my head. She is a VITAL part of the Flock’s development, their mental/emotional recovery, and adding to their safety net to fall back on. She serves them as their first adult role model, and is the first adult to show them what parent/child are supposed to look like from a healthy perspective. Though she has several fuck ups, she becomes someone that the Flock genuinely trusts and loves, which makes it all the more difficult for them to leave when [REDACTED].

Notes:

She and Max do butt heads initially, because Max is paranoid and also afraid of becoming uneeded. This ends up being incredibly important because Max needs to learn how to live and find meaning in life without being the designated Leader/Parent/Big Sister

Anne, at one point, sits the entire flock down to teach them about consent, which was something no one ever talked about with them before. She goes in talking specifically about consent in a romantic/sexual sense (because they’re fourteen and that’s something they need to know), but quickly turns into a full-fledged no, people are NOT allowed to do that to you, what the FUCK.

She’s responsible for giving the flock a laptop. It’s because Angel is online schooled (bc telepathy makes actually learning difficult) and was therefore provided with a computer.

Anne is also allowed to swear, but only when it’s funny.

Michael “Grey” Rivers

Aka Grey from the Sewers Aka GR3Y H47 Aka Mike from the Bronx Aka Gifted Child Syndrome Incarnate Aka Would-be-in-MIT-if-his-parents-weren’t-horrible. He’s my son, your honour.

Basically, his backstory boils down to him being a genius, getting into MIT at 14, his (horrible) parents wanting a perfect child who could “make it out” of the Bronx and represent his family/neighborhood/borough to the world. When he inevitably failed their expectations due to stress, a schizophrenic-spectrum disorder that completely alienated him from the rest of his support network, and refusing to take his psych meds because the side effects were horrible and they made it harder to think (and therefore pass his classes), they kicked him out. He fully intends to go back to MIT when he turns 18 and has control of his finances/scholarships/medication/therapy.

So that’s how the flock meets him. 

Mike ends up in a very prominent support role for the flock both in technological persuits (helping them track their parents, helping them get information from ITEX, trying to disable Max’s chip and failing multiple times until it becomes a matter of personal honour—), in helping the older members of the flock figure out how to deal with hallucinations/delusions (because he’s actually been to therapy, unlike them), and in being one of the only people who talks to them and helps them without any ulterior motive. He’s not trying to build a case against ITEX/The Institute of Higher Learning, he’s not double crossing them, he’s not plagued with guilt. He just genuinely wants to help them, and they genuinely want to help him, and that’s their first introduction to a healthy, non-codependent relationship.

My many disorganized notes on Michael Rivers:

He’s from specifically Morris Heights, Bronx, NYC.

He would say that his last name is actually Rivera, but his grandparents changed it to Rivers so it would sound more English, and his family has been in America for so long that he doesn’t know much about any Latino heritage he may or may not have. He identifies as African American, not Afro-Latino. He’s just bitter that his family felt the need to change their surname to have better opportunities in New York.

Nudge aggressively befriends him pretty much the moment she meets him, bullies him into teaching her how to code, and he very quickly adopts her as his pseudo-little-sister.

His delusions in the book seemed to involve government conspiracies, but as that’s the one delusion that is proved correct in the book, I’ve decided it would be best if his delusions and reality intersected a bit less if I don’t want to write him having a manic/paranoid episode in the second scene he has screen time. So his delusions are more based on “none of this is real”, “someone is recording everything I do and setting me up to fail” and “my ill-wishes on people can and will come true if I dwell on them too long.”. Government conspiracies are one of things he is skeptical about because he thinks most conspiracies are either “CIA admitted to this twenty years ago” or “antisemitism”.

He’s taking online free college classes that don’t actually give him any college credit, but they have good information and help him feel like he’s working towards something. He plans to double major in computer sciences and electrical engineering, minor in marine biology. He’s wanted to join NOAA since he was twelve and he is nothing if not stubborn.

There you go. These are my characters, now. I have custody.

[elvish-sky]

Aerinithil Character Sheet

i’m so delighted to introduce you to my new OC, Aeri! I’m so nervous about this, but I really adore her and I’m so proud of the work I’ve put into her so I hope you all love her!

Aeri, by the incredibly kind person and wonderful artist @lady-latte !!!

Name: Aerinithil, meaning ‘sea of moonlight’ is the name given to her by her elven mother.

Nickname: Aeri. It’s what her father called her when she was little, and it’s stuck. (pronounced air-rhee)

Heritage: Half-elf, half-human. Her parents were an elf from Lothlorien and a man from Rohan that got lost and fell in love with her mother. They disappeared from everyone they knew and lived together in the foothills of the mountains west of Fangorn, raising Aeri there. The only being that ever knew there had been another union between elf and man was Gandalf. They were killed by orcs when she was in her 40s, her father living a very long life for a human. However, she was not offered the choice between a human lifespan, and an elven one, instead only given an extended lifespan. However, she doesn't know how long that lifespan is until she meets Gandalf for the first time.

Age: She was born on February 14, TA 2414, and is almost six hundred years old at the Council of Elrond.

Appearance: Aeri is 6’3, a normal height for an elf, but tall for a human. However, she is shorter than Aragorn, who stands at 6’6. She’s very muscular after so many centuries of physical activity, and lean, but not slender like the elves, a reminder of her human heritage. She does have the elven pointed ears, though.

Her hair is a mahogany color and wavy, reaching to the small of her back when she actually leaves it down. Which is rare- one of the things she hates the most is having hair in her face, so it is almost always in a long ponytail or various kinds of braids.

Aeri has piercing blue eyes, a much darker blue than usually seen, but with starbursts of aquamarine around the pupils. She has a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and a few around her face. She also has a triangle of freckles on her right shoulder, something that her father had too, which has always puzzled her but she sees it as a connection to him. Her nose is slightly upturned, and her lips are somewhere in between rounded and heart-shaped, but she can never decide which.

She has a lot of scars all over, a result of centuries of fighting and a whole lot of clumsiness. She has one on the bottom of her chin from tripping as a child, that Aragorn tried for years to get the story about out of her and once he succeeded has not let her forget it. She received a scar at Helm’s Deep that stretches from her hip, across her thigh and almost to her knee. She also has a small one on her cheek from where an arrow grazed her during the battle at the Black Gate.

Personal Information: Aeri is usually very hostile with new people, but secretly craves connection and is rather touch-starved. She’s become almost numb by the time she joins the Fellowship and only does that because she received a message from Gandalf, who, when she met him centuries before, had promised to never ask her for anything unless the situation was truly dire.

She does have a sense of humor and enjoys the antics of the hobbits. Her common sense is strong, and her intuition is finely honed. She’s also inquisitive, sensitive, and has a large amount of hope, qualities that come to light as she starts to unconsciously think of and treat the Fellowship as a family.

Aeri is scared of bees, but she doesn’t know why (and thinks bumblebees are adorable, she’s just scared of any other kind). She has nightmares about her parents’ deaths that constantly trouble her, and hundreds of years later often wonders that if she’d been there, would she have been able to save them? She also suffers from panic attacks and is very nervous in large crowds, but she has learned how to cope over the years, and Aragorn teaches her tricks he uses as well.

In the years between her parents’ deaths and joining the Fellowship, she traveled Arda, visiting everywhere from the Shire to Erebor. She always returned home to the cabin in the foothills of the Misty Mountains near Fangorn, alone, with the books and goods she brought back to keep her company. And her horses and dogs over the years.

She’s fantastic with any weapon you put in her hands, but her favorites are her long twin daggers (that she bonds with Legolas over) and her long cutlass that befuddles Aragorn and Boromir.

Aeri, from this picrew!

Friends: Once the Fellowship gets her to trust them, on the way to Caradhras, she opens up a little more. She becomes fast friends with Merry and Pippin but enjoys Sam’s quieter company and Frodo’s thoughtfulness as well. She also knows a lot about compulsion and temptation and helps Frodo with the ring. Boromir quickly becomes her brother-in-arms, and she manages to take down the Uruk-hai that tried to kill him, saving his life. Legolas has a harder time trusting Aeri, especially because he can see the elvishness in her but knows she’s not fully elven. However, when she rescues him from an orc patrol one night they become friends, and he teaches her more about her heritage. She and Gimli don’t interact much until Moria, but he sees the respect she’s showing and they begin to like each other.

During the several months between her arrival in Rivendell/The Council of Elrond and the Fellowship’s departure, she becomes friends with Arwen, the first being she lets her guard down around in many years. However, she always feels a sense of jealousy around the elf, which she doesn’t realize is because of her feelings for Aragorn for a long time.

She also becomes really close with both Glorfindel and Erestor during her time in Rivendell, enjoying the warrior’s battle-wisdom and humor and the councilor’s quiet thoughtfulness and sass.

Love Interest: Aeri and Aragorn do confess their feelings for each other some time during the quest, much to Merry and Pippin’s delight when they hear of it. However, it takes a while, and there is lots of pining along the way as both think the other wants nothing more than to be friends. Aeri is intimidated by the fact that Aragorn is the Heir of Isildur, and Aragorn is intimidated by the fact that Aeri is a half-elf that’s been alive for eight hundred-ish years. Some hilarity ensues from this as well, much to Boromir and Legolas’s enjoyment.

Aeri and Aragorn with this picrew!

i’m tagging everyone on my everything tag, as well as people i think might be interested and just some that is really like to see this! i’m sorry if you don’t want to be tagged and i hope you’re not mad, i’m just very excited about this!!@entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @kumqu4t @katbby16 @thewhiteladyofrohan @kirstenscaffeinateddisaster @beenovel @shethereadinghobbit @guardianofrivendell @hey-its-nonny @laurfilijames @grunid @claraofthepen @gossip-girl-of-middle-earth @starryeyedrogue @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @ladylouoflothlorien @lady-latte @luna-xial @elles-writing @band--psycho @annkdarar

this character sheet was inspired by @guardianofrivendell ‘s for her amazing OC Tullaina, which you should check out here!

and a huge thank you to @laurfilijames who gave me the push i needed to do this. thank you so incredibly much, i hope you like her!

[imnotusedtobeingloved]

PLEADING FOR MERCY

(PLEASE DON’T REBLOG!)

Warnings: heartbreak, betrayal.

Pairing: Zuko x f!Reader

Characters: Zuko, Iroh, Azula, Katara, Aang, Sokka (mentioned), Toph (mentioned)

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor the gif. Credit to the owners.

Summary: Part two of “destiny is a funny thing”

A/N: Since I’ve been asked for a next part to my last Zuko fic, here it is. (tho further requests only per inbox please haha)

“(Y/N)?” You felt someone’s hand on your shoulder, lightly shaking you awake. “(Y/N)!” A groan passed your lips, feeling every limb ache. “You have to wake up, we need to get out of here!”

The sudden sound of water irritated you, but one second later relief flowed through your body. The pain disappeared. Slowly you blinked your eyes open, seeing a slightly blurred version of your friend. She looked no different than the last time you’d seen her. Her braid was a bit more tousled than usual, but her ocean-blue orbs were like the calm after a storm. “Katara?” You slurred, stumbling slightly when she helped you up, but her healing powers were quick to work. She drew you into a hug, as soon as you’d gained full balance. Immediately the smell of salt and sea overcame your senses. Something you constantly associated with her. “I’m so glad you’re back. We were so worried,” She pulled away slightly, analyzing your face. “What happened?” Her voice was soothing. It felt good. Knowing that they had, indeed, thought about you. “I was-”

The tunnel above you began to rumble. You took a hold of Katara’s hand, spotting one of the earth benders against the bright sunlight. “You’ve got company,” Another one sneered, pushing their next victim down into the Crystal Catacombs. “Gaah!” He screamed as he tumbled downwards, landing on his stomach directly in front of you. It took you a second to recognize it was Lee. “Zuko!” Katara said, surprised, before her face disorted with anger. You calling out “Lee!” at the same time didn’t help the situation. His eyes widened when he saw you, but the shock was gone in a flash. You’d wanted to help him up, but upon stepping closer he turned his back on you, still sitting on the floor. Your smile disappeared. “Don’t get close to him, (Y/N). He’s dangerous,” The water bender murmured, grabbing your upper arm to hold you back.

This wasn’t a happy reunion. Instead it was all a big puddle of confusion.

Katara hadn’t even registered you calling him by the wrong name, too caught up in her rage. “Why did they throw you in here?” She asked, only to answer herself a second later. “Oh, wait. Let me guess. It’s a trap. So that when Aang shows up to help us you can finally have him in your little Fire Nation clutches!” He briefly looked over his shoulder, but stayed silent. “Katara, what are you talking about?” You asked, bewildered. “This is him, (Y/N)! This is Prince Zuko, who hunted us down countless times to capture Aang!”

You swallowed dryly. Was this supposed to be some kind of bad joke? His feelings for you. The stories you’d shared. The caring touches when he’d changed your bandages. All a lie?

Of course you hadn’t been truthful yourself, at first. And you didn’t blame him for being precautios. But you’d told him in time, when things got more serious. Didn’t you deserve the same?

Weeks were wasted with a prince, who’d hunted your friends for ages.

Now you blankly stared at the back of his head. His shoulders seemed more slumped than before, but he didn’t deny the accusations that Katara had thrown at him. Your love was lost. Lost to someone who’d probably never been honest with you. Not once. Deep regret formed in the pit of your stomach. You felt sick. Speechless.

“You’re a terrible person, you know that?” Your friend remained unimpressed by his Royal heritage, continuing to yell at him. “Always following us! Hunting the Avatar! Trying to capture the world’s last hope for peace!” She growled, pacing around like a panther in it’s cage. “But what do you care, Fire Lord’s son? Spreading war and violence and hatred is in your blood!” Katara spat, which eventually gained her the response she was waiting for. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” She whirled around. “I don’t? How dare you? You have no idea what this war has put me through. Me, personally!” She turned and sunk to the floor. “The Fire Nation took my mother away from me,”

You choose to interrupt, standing between both sides uncomfortably. “Maybe we should calm down...” You didn’t know how to explain that you’d spend the past weeks with the enemy. Surrounded by rocks and crystals there wasn’t much room for you to comfort her, but you choose to help her calm down before you’d attempt to talk to... Zuko. It was hard not to think of him as the ‘Lee’ you’d met him as. Wrapping your arms around her, you swayed her softly, trying to soothe her outrage. Something scraped over the stone behind you. The prince must’ve shifted in his seat. “I’m sorry about your mother. That’s something we have in common,” You pulled Katara up to stand next to you, gently wiping the tears from her face. When you lifted your gaze, Zuko stood directly in front of you.

You didn’t know what to think. Couldn’t even look at him. So you kept your eyes focused on the crystals around you. “(Y/N)...” He mumbled, but you shook your head. No more lies. You couldn’t take it anymore. “No,” Tears stinged in your eyes, but you refused to let them go. A throbbing headache soon formed, from your tightly clenched jaw. Katara looked between the two of you, sensing a new kind of tension. “But-”

“No!” You said with more force, glaring at his face. It was the first time that his eyes met yours, since you were down here. “You lied to me,” your voice wasn’t as strong as usual, shaking with emotion. “All this time was just a big lie!” You could see the big questionmark on your friends face, but you couldn’t bare to tell her what a stupid mistake you’d made. “It wasn’t! Yes i did lie about my identity, but i didn’t lie about anything else! Besides you never told me you were with the Avatar!” This was unbelievable. “Why would i? I didn’t think it would matter to our-” The walls shook around you. A part of it exploded, making stones and crystals fly everywhere. The three of you covered your faces, coughing from the whirled up dust. To your relief it revealed Aang and Iroh behind it.

“Aang!” Katara exclaimed, running up to him and embracing the Avatar in a tight hug. The man you’d formerly known as “Mushi” did the same to Zuko, while you stood in the middle. Silent. Unmoving. “Aang, i knew you would come. I found (Y/N) down here!” The water bender said. He smiled as you walked up to him and shared a hug with both. “It’s good to see you. We tried searching the city, but we couldn’t find you. Then i had a vision about Katara and you being in danger... What happened? Did they hurt you?”

You detatched yourself with a sigh. “It’s a long story,” He nodded, letting you off the hook for now. “Uncle, i don’t understand, what are you doing with the Avatar?” Zuko growled from behind you. “Saving you, that’s what,” Aang replied, still clinging to Katara. “Ugh!” The prince made a step forward, but the general held him back. “Prince Zuko, it’s time we talked. Go help your other friends!” he said to the Avatar. “We’ll catch up with you,” Aang didn’t waste any more time. He bowed to Iroh with a thankfull grin, before disappearing into the tunnel. Katara followed him without hesitation.

“(Y/N)?” At first you wanted to ignore the man. But you owed your life to him. He’d been the one to take you in, nursed you back to health, and now he seemed to help you once again. So you stopped for a second to look back at him. “I’m sorry we had to lie to you. But for what it’s worth, i’m glad to see you alive and well. I hope you can forgive us one day,” He mildly spoke, without force. You acknowledged his words with a brief nod, not sparing a glance for his nephew. Then you moved to follow the others.

The three of you took off, running deeper into the Catacombs. “We’ve got to find Sokka and Toph,” Katara called out. Suddenly a hiss rang out behind you, a wave of heat following the sound. You turned around just in time for Aang to block Azulas attack, barely escaping her flames. You’d never seen her before. Tough the resemblance to Zuko was undeniable. Knowing who he was helped to connect the dots between them more quickly. They had the same shade of umber hair. Shared some particular facial features. And nearly the same intruiging eyeshade. Just almost. You’d never known golden eyes could be so cold.

Producing a large wave Katara ran up to her, letting the water come crashing down. The princess deflected the attack with an offense of her own, transforming it all into hot mist, clouding the room. It didn’t take long for her to attack again. You redirected the fire balls with some of your own, staying in the defensive. “I see you’ve added a firebender to your little group,” She mocked, landing on a stone pillar. “How does it feel being a traitor to your own Nation?” You ignored her bribes, watching her every move.

The rock crumbled under her feet at Aangs next command. She had to jump, meeting the three of you on even ground. Minutes of deafening silence passed. No one dared to make a move.

A deep red flame interrupted the tension, landing right in the middle of the ring. Zuko had joined the field. And he was ready to fight. The question was: Which side would he choose?

You had no idea. You’d thought you knew him before. But now he was unpredictable. The boy you loved never existed in the first place. And yet you still tried to catch his eyes with yours, pleading for mercy.

He didn’t even look in your direction. He couldn’t. Because if he did, he wouldn’t be able to fullfill his destiny. Wouldn’t be able to go home.

His burning hot flame shot directly at Aang.

Azula responded accordingly, sending her fire in Katara’s direction. The blue flames clashed with her water and the air sizzled, as a relentless fight erupted in the hall of the Catacombs.

In mere seconds pure chaos ensued. You tried defending Aang from the prince as best as you could, both of you working together. But as he bend a large rock to knock Zuko back, you found yourself at the ground as well. You landed on your back, directly on the wound the prince had treated. A sharp pain travelled up your spine.

Katara had Azula at her mercy, who was quickly freed by her brother while you and Aang got back to your feet. “I thought you’d changed!” Your friend yelled at him, using her water as an extension of her arms. He did the same with his flames. “I have changed,” He striked with all his might. It was a painful sight to look at. Her braid didn’t exist no longer, hair flying freely from the blow. She was knocked into a pair of green crystals, stained red around the edges one moment later.

“You’re right,” you mumbled, coming up behind him. “You really have,” For a moment his stance faltered. Nevertheless he faced his opponent. Neither of you made a move for a long time. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Azula hunting after Aang. She got the best of him as she pushed him back into the crystal wall. “Aang!” you screamed, rushing forward. Zuko stepped in your way, now producing flames, to hold you off. A rush of energy went through you, calling out to the fire within. It formed in your palms, pulsating and strong. They collided with his. Smoke rose around you, fighting tooth and nail.

But your heart wasn’t in it.

Only rage. Pure and powerful anger. You shoved him back repeadiately, the despair fueling your fire. In a moment of carelessnes he managed to grab your wrists, pressing your back against the wall. The troubles of your injury caught up on you, weakening you faster than normal. You were no fool. It wasn’t a secret that he was a better fighter than you. Zuko was holding back.

Your heart clenched in your chest. This time you couldn’t hold it in. Tears spilled on your cheeks. “Please,” you gasped desperatly. You’d tried to concentrate on your hatred towards him. You really did. But your heart played a different game. “I don’t want to fight you,”

Doubts crossed his mind. It showed on his face and a tiny piece of hope flared in your chest. “You can still choose differently,” you whispered. Right now he was closer to you, than he had been in days. Once again you discovered all those tiny details in his face, that you’d loved so much. For a second you saw Lee. But before you was standing Zuko. His thumb catched one of your tears, gently wiping it from your cheek. And then he left. You weren’t worth his alliance. Weren’t even worth a fight. He left you sinking to the ground, the taste of ashes in your mouth.

All it took was one look upon the battlefield to know you’d lost. Aang’s next attack didn’t even reach the fire benders. Surrounded by Azula, Zuko and a number of Dai Lee agents, you had no chance. Katara had gotten back up, drawing a circle of water-tentacles around her. But you knew it would be of no use. There were too many. You got up despite the defeat, refusing to lose sitting down. Distanly you registered Aang producing a tent of crystals around his body to protect himself. You wondered how long it would take, before Azula burst through it. You positioned yourself in front of it regardless.

The princess smirked at you, raising her hands. Like a cat watching it’s prey.

Then the makeshift tent began to glow. From the inside. Aang floated in the air, his marks and eyes glowing brightly. He’d made it. He’d reached the Avatar-State. Everyone watched, entranced by the sight. Until a blaze of lightning striked. His body convulsed under the pressure of it’s power. And then the Avatar fell.

All you could do, was watch.

You were by his side before anybody else, still protecting his lifeless body with a circle of flames around you. Katara produced a large wave, reaching you just in time before the siblings. And to your luck, she wasn’t the only one who did.

Someone burst through the wall near the exit. “You’ve got to get out of here. I’ll hold them off as long as i can!” Iroh screamed, sending flames in every possible direction to create an opening. You took it. Carrying Aang, you and Katara ran for your lives. The waterfall of the Catacombs was your loophole, and you managed to get through, thanks to your friend producing a pillar of water.

Your eyes remained on the prince, until you were no longer able to see him.

find part three here!

tagging u beautiful ppl: @zvkonation​ @viva-la-millennia​ @randomness501​ @drheinzd​ @kaylove12​

[harrypotter-imaginess]

Part 1 Here!

A/N: I’ve been writing this since March, and finally wrapped it up. Slightly NSFW, and apartment scene is inspired by Lore Olympus by Rachel S. 

- You’ve been dating for 2 or 3 months.

- You do it basically every chance you get

- You moan as he pushes you up against the wall, trailing kisses down your neck, sucking at your collarbone

- “Dra-Draco please” you mumble into his shoulder

- “When do you have to be back at work?” He asks between kisses, piercing grey eyes peering into yours

- He never seems to lose his composure, not even during sex

- Which of course only makes you more flustered

- The first time, it had been fairly dark

- But over the past few months you’ve been with him so often you’ve got a very good idea of what his body looks like

- Toned arms, a firm outline on his abs, pale skin blooming with the hickeys you’ve left

- Not to even get started on that face

- No wonder you couldn’t keep your hands off of him

- He bites your collarbone and you yelp, only to be met with a raised eyebrow in return

- You feel your face grow hot, you were so busy admiring him, you forgot to answer his question

- “H-half an hour I think” you mumble.

- He frowns, that’s not as much time as he’d like

- “I guess you’re going to be late” he mumbles against your skin, his hand making quick work of your blouse

- You’ve got this glow, and everyone has noticed

- “Hey! Took a long lunch today?”

- You feel your face growing warm, your hand moving over the new hickey forming on your neck

- “Just lost track of time” you say with a laugh

- You haven’t told anyone at work about you and Draco because of his popularity in your office

- “Hey (Y/N)! Come over and look! The hot guys walking by our office again!”

- Draco’s got a scowl on his face, thin, pale eyebrows practically pressed together. His eyes hold a fierce glare.

- God, you haven’t seen that expression on him in months

- You had completely forgotten that you both hated each other at first

- You catch a glimpse of his soft, pale hair, falling against his eyes. A gloved hand moves to push it aside.

- A hand that had been somewhere rather intimate only a handful of minutes ago.

- Draco’s never been happier in his entire life

- Even his employees have noticed

- “Is it just me, or does Mr. Malfoy seem more chill than usual?”

- “Yesterday That part timer, Natalia, spilled coffee all over his coat. He didn’t even blink, just said ‘these things happen’, usually he’d sack her on the spot!”

- “Maybe he finally got laid”

- They both laugh at that, while Reginald is practically sweating buckets at his desk behind them

- Little do they know they’re spot on.

- Ever since Draco started seeing you, he’s constantly come to Reginald for advice on “navigating the muggle world”

- “The traps of the muggle world are terrifying” Draco had said with a shiver. “Y’know she wanted me to use one of these?”

- Draco pulls out a condom

- “I mean what even is this? A sweet? It tastes just like plastic”

- Reginald’s not sure what’s more embarrassing, that his boss tried to eat a condom, or that he had to spend an hour and half explaining what a condom was to him, and how to use one.

- “So you can shag as much as you want with these, and nothing happens?” Draco says with a face of sheer amazement.

- Reginald has to remind himself to be empathetic. He’s lucky his parents are muggles, and generally very open minded.

- It’s not surprising Draco doesn’t know anything. The wizard world’s typical propaganda encourages procreation to increase the wizard population.

- The truly desperate can drink a potion or cast a charm, but Reginald’s sure something of that sort is never discussed in pureblood familys.

- “Muggles are pretty brilliant aren’t they?” Draco’s staring at the small plastic square in his palm, with true wonder.

- Reginald can’t help but smile, he looks like a kid that just discovered sweets

- “They are”

- Draco’s feeling pretty good, he’s got your favorite take out in one hand, flowers in the other, and a smile on his face

- He’s got someone he loves, he knows what condoms are, he’s on top of the world

- “Draco, how come I’ve never been to your place?”

- Happiness is fleeting, and reality is a lie

- He’s just set down the take out on your dining table, watching you sitting on the edge of the sofa

- You’re only a few feet away from him, but you feel an ocean away

- Well, he can hardly tell you that he still lives with his parents and that they despise Muggles and would probably curse you before you could even make a sound

- His mouth opens, brain scrambling to find an excuse

- He’s going to go with “he lives at his parents estate” when he actually looks at you

- You’re not looking to him, waiting for an explanation. You’re looking at your hands, eyebrows creased together and teeth nibbling into the flesh of your lip.

- He places a hand under your chin, nudging your face to look up at him.

- “Is that really what you’re worried about?”

- It’s not

- You were too much of a coward, and chickened out asking him your initial question

- You hadn’t thought of it before today, when all the women in your office crowded around the window to look at him

- He must have women throwing themselves at his feet

- You were together so often, you doubted he had the time to have anyone else.

- But you never had dates at his place, always yours

- In fact, you had never visited his place

- He could have an entirely different life than what you imagined, and this relationship, the blossoming feelings inside of you could just be in your head.

- Well, you’re only half right. Draco does have a whole other life, but not like you think

- “It’s just- what are we?” Biting on your lip, mustering up every ounce of courage you have you add “...are we dating?”

- Or are you both just f*cking

- He’s taken aback that this is what you want to ask, and honestly he’s a bit annoyed

- In his mind he’s already given up so many things to be here with you now

- His pride, his family, his heritage, he’s even ready to give up magic if it comes to it

- It’s all so obvious to him, that he doesn’t realize it’s all in his mind, he hasn’t conveyed any of this to you

- A softer expression moves across his face, as he takes you in, your gaze lingering on your hands. 

- Of course you’re confused

- He kneels beside you on the ground, his fingers wrapping around your hand

- “Of course we’re dating, you’re my (girlfriend/boyfriend), my lover, my significant other, my partner” each title is pronounced by a soft kiss on your knuckles. He peers up at you through his eyelashes, taking in your flushed face

- You’re his entire future

- “How do you feel about me?” He asks, his breath held in his throat as he watches you carefully

- He’s only now realizing that much of your relationship has existed in his mind

- The thought that perhaps you don’t see your relationship as anything long term only occurs after the words leave his mouth.

- You’re flushed hiding your face in your large sweater

- It’s hard for you to be honest with your wants and needs, especially in relationships

- “I want you to be my boyfriend” you mumble, and he squeezes your hand

- The words take courage you didn’t know you had, but Draco’s grin is worth it.

- He places kisses on your hand, then your face, and finally your lips. You feel his smile, and can’t help but smile as well.

- Then his kisses trail to your neck

- “Draco... the food will get cold...” you murmur, but your hand creeps under his shirt.

- “It’s fine,” he mumbles against your neck. “Gives me an excuse to invite you to my place for a proper meal next time”

- Cue to the next day, with Draco sitting across from his mother in their home. She’s flipping through a book with her wand.

- “I want a flat!” He practically shrieks out, Narcissa doesn’t even look up

- “To own, or rent?”

- Crap. He didn’t think this far ahead, he didn’t really think the words would actually come out. But he promised you a date at his place, and he can’t exactly bring you to the manor now can he?

- Besides, possible hexes and curses aside, his parents being here would definitely kill the mood

- “Rent, I guess. It’s just hard commuting to the office from home.”

- He half expects his mother to tell him to quit then, not like he needs the salary anyway. They have plenty of money.

- But instead, she says:

- “Fine, I’ll tell your father to contact our real estate connection.”

- Draco lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, about ready to walk away, his mother looks up from her book for the first time

- “And Draco,” He meets her gaze, stopping midway from exiting “do bring them home sometime.”

- He’s attempting to play dumb when his mother adds

- “And make sure to cover up the marks on your neck before you see your Father. You know how he is.”

- Draco just nods, feeling the heat creep into his face.

- Apartment hunting is surprisingly stressful. Partially because of how little he understands the muggle world.

- “This is the electrical closet, it stays locked.”

- Muggles. Don’t they realize he can just use a quick ‘alohomora’ to open it.

- When the realtor isn’t looking, he opens it, takes in the air conditioning unit and the wires, and promptly closes it again

- The muggle world is truly terrifying

- He ends up choosing a flat a few streets away from yours, in a posh upscale building. Naturally he lives in the penthouse. 

- He considered moving into the same building, but decides against it

- He has to remind himself that even though he plans on marrying you, he has to play it cool.

- From your perspective you’re a new couple that’s still falling in love

- He hates his apartment, he doesn’t understand how anything works, he has to cook all his meals himself, and he didn’t realize how much cleaning went into living without servants

- He has a newfound respect for house elves as he scrubs pasta sauce off of the ceiling

- In addition, none of the appliances in this place are enchanted, which means he has to actually use his hands to turn on the water or open the refrigerator

- He hates it

- “Wow, I considered this building too, but it was pretty expensive” you say as he helps you out of your coat

- You wonder if the reason he never invited you over was because he was trying to hide the fact that he came from money

- Not like it was a secret, what with the clothes and the restaurants he took you to, he was either rich or close to bankruptcy

- Draco’s just hoping you haven’t figured out he only moved in a week ago

- Thankfully the red sauce stains on the ceiling and Draco’s inability to clean very well thoroughly mislead you into believing this is a well lived in apartment

- Your eyes twinkle as you take in the incredible view from the large panel window in his living room

- “The views absolutely bewitching” you murmur with a smile, enchanted as you gaze at the twinkling lights of London

- He watches you, watching the lights. You look like you’re almost glowing, your form wrapped by the scenery

- “You’re the one that’s bewitching” he murmurs, watching your grin

- Well he can manage for a bit longer

[haliyam]

interim (ii)

zeke x reader/oc

summary: You return to Liberio not long after the Warriors arrive home from their failed mission in Paradis and discover that things have changed. (Or they will, and maybe a little more with Zeke than you expect.) [Season 4 and manga spoilers ahead]

AO3 link | Ch 1 | Ch 3

Hi again! I forgot to note in the first chapter that Reader here is 19 years old, while Zeke is 25. (Clearly, before the developments of this story, there was nothing but friendship there.) For the other Warriors, I put Pieck at 19 as well, while Porco is Reiner's age (around 17/18 that year). Marcel would have been the same age as Pieck and Reader in my headcanon. If you're not comfortable with the age difference, I understand.

Also, about university here so you don't get confused this chapter - I lifted the medical school system for Marley from Germany's current system where after a competitive state exam post-high school, students are able to head straight for medical school for a 6-year track followed by specialization.

Reminder that the Reader/OC, default name Lucy, is a cis-female Eldian character with a set background, but please feel free to set the substitution for the Reader to your chosen First Name using the InteractiveFics browser extension if you’re reading through the browser! So that would be: Lucy = Your or your character's First Name. Because reader will have a set background, you'll have a set surname as well.

Chapter 2

You don’t even get a moment to breathe. General List launches into a speech about the nerve of other so-called nations almost as soon as you sit down. Apparently, those in the Mid East peninsula have grown considerably bold over the last few months, with several navy ships withdrawing from the port of Ichakar and transferring, presumably, to Qali - which gives them a better angle from which to attack the mainland if they so wish it. They’ve also fortified their borders—ground troops distributed across the land close to Marley’s newly acquired cities—which is of course the sovereign right of those nations, but it’s blasphemy to the regime’s unending ambition.

You wish they had given you a brief with all this information before the meeting, the kind you have seen Willy and father poring over in their office in the past, but you get the feeling that the general is unloading information on you with the intent to overwhelm. 

“On the diplomatic front,” he continues with a hint of mockery, because of course he thinks of such things as futile, “they have been making demands. Asking that we keep to our waters when it is they who have encroached upon ours! The audacity—the delineation clearly states—” He continues to ramble until he is red in the face, but your neutral expression must slip into a wide-eyed look at some point, because he regains his composure with a visible wrinkle of his nose. “This arrogance can only mean one thing.”

He stares at you, and you realize he is expecting you to answer. You feel all eyes at the table on you, the Commander’s especially, and clear your throat. “...Weapons research, Sir?”

“Weapons development, Miss Tybur,” he corrects you. “Advanced and more prolific than we may have considered.”

He pauses, and you can’t help but speak. You can tell Magath knows it because he sits up straighter somehow, and in a moment of rebellion, you refuse to recognize the caution in his posture. “With all due respect, Sir, the… armaments race among the other nations is no secret, and on Eldian labor, no less.”

A fist slamming on the desk causes everyone around it to jump in their seats. “It’s what Eldians deserve!” the general next to List says, so naturally that he might have been born saying it. You blink, the heat of embarrassment and indignation crawling up your neck, but it’s only with List’s raised hand that the man remembers that the white band on your left arm is only for show. He glances away. “Present company excluded, of course.”

With the exception of his hand, List continues as though neither of you ever interrupted him. “And now, to the point. We need further information on the status of this little race. That is where you come in, Miss Tybur. You will use your family’s connections to enter the peninsula with our people - the peninsula and beyond, as the exact lay of their operations lies beyond our ken - and retrieve this information.”

It’s one thing to predict a general’s words and another to be confronted with them. You suppose you were still hoping he wouldn’t say it. “General List, are you saying you want a Tybur to be a spy?”

List glances over at Magath. “They were trained for interrogation, weren’t they?” Your old instructor is barely able to nod before the general recalls to you, “Ah, yes, I read the file. You withstood all but the final test. A failure then, but rather more a fluke, in my opinion. An irreplicable circumstance.”

You don’t say anything. You would rather not remember that night. Or that particular moment.

He takes your silence for agreement. “And so I answer, why not? You became a Warrior candidate - unprecedented initiative and involvement by the Tybur family. Why should this be any different?”

“Because—” Because becoming a Warrior isn’t a choice a child makes of their own free will, not really, but a Tybur doesn’t question the decisions of the former head of the family, of father, before all these strangers. No matter that they were loyal to him. You purse your lips. “Sir, I just don’t believe I’m the right person for this.”

“Your file did say you were always hasty, Miss Tybur,” List says, and you both glance at Magath at that. He doesn’t nod, only meets your gazes. He seems as trapped in this as you are, which makes your resentment for him ebb only slightly. “But you should know better now.”

Now you’re getting irritated. The temper that was your closest companion in your early childhood, and then your early adolescence seizes your fist under the table as List continues. “How goes Foundation operations?”

The Tybur Family Foundation. Set up by Walter Tybur when he first became head of the family and operated by the eponymous Tyburs - most often chaired by the spouse of whoever leads it. Your mother first, once, when she cared to, and now Mila. It provides healthcare and educational opportunities for ‘peoples once oppressed by the Eldian Empire,’ as part of continuing reparations for sins the Tybur family did not commit. Or so they say. Many of its employees now are Eldian, part of Willy’s initiative to improve Eldian relations… but in reality it does little when the Foundation is only a grantmaking organization.

“Well enough, Sir.”

“Is that so? From what I hear, the Foundation is unable to set up even offices in several countries in spite of the family’s stellar international relations.”

“And,” you add carefully, “if they ever catch wind of my close involvement with the regime even after all this time, that will not improve.”

“Clearly, Miss Tybur.” His level gaze shifts to patronizing in all the ways you hate. “But say you become more independent. Distance yourself from the military that leads our fine motherland… Say,” he smiles, “that you make overtures of dissatisfaction with Marley’s cruel expansionist policies and express the utmost sympathy for other nations. Perhaps then they will permit you to expand your operations within their borders.”

Your jaw almost drops at the very suggestion. You’ve always thought, since Willy became Lord Tybur, that only the Tyburs have the power to change the direction of Marley. For obvious reasons, not so obvious to the rest of the world, but also for the heritage you represent. If the Tybur family can be good Eldians, why can they not be only one of many good Eldians? Why not introduce the concept that any Eldian can be good, as any other race of people? 

“You…” You rein in your reaction even as your imagination sets off in the direction List has set it—and far more. Especially the part where the Tybur family spreads the good name of Eldians throughout the world. No more ‘special’ treatment, no more interment zones…

No more Warriors.

Maybe. If Marley gets what it wants. 

You would allow that? was your question. But the answer, you understand suddenly, is that they would allow perhaps the chance of it, in exchange for Marley’s continued expansion using Eldian bodies on the front lines. A slim chance of sparing Eldian lives for the certainty of losing them. You feel lightheaded just considering it. You want to help, but you are the last person who should hold so many lives in her hands.

Your eyes refocus on General List. A pleased smile brims beneath his well-trimmed beard, like he’s already read your mind. But he can’t know—you’ve shared your thoughts with no one but Willy and Lara, who have been as dismissive as they have been receptive. In other words, as though you’re still the child father sent away thirteen years ago they expect will eventually forget all her questions.

“Does Lord Tybur know about this, Sir?” You eye the intelligence officer not far from List. 

List clears his throat. “Not as yet. Lord Tybur might be more receptive to such a scheme were his sister to present it to him herself. We are aware that Lady Tybur chairs the Foundation. Her movements are conservative, but she may agree to a more generous, active Foundation on your word.”

Scheme. That’s what it is, but that isn’t what really catches your attention. Willy and Mila, listening to you? You want to burst into laughter, tell them that they have severely misunderstood the dynamics of the Tybur family. But that intelligence officer is here, which makes you think List is lying.

“Why not ask Lady Tybur to head the operation?”

“Lord Tybur would never allow us to risk his wife,” List laughs. The implication of his words is hardly lost on you, but the general tempers his mockery with a compliment. “And we believe a new, younger face for the Foundation - perhaps one our enemies believe to be foolishly idealistic - will better suit it.”

Foolishly idealistic. Like the sort of person who would agree to this plan. Your face doesn’t fall, but your eyes do - toward the table, the way the fingers of each general drum against the wood. Magath’s hands clasp each other, firm as ever. When you look up to List again, you frown. 

“Sir, you know that I’ve returned to Liberio to enter the university’s medical program.”

“Yes, yes, we were quite impressed when we learned of your state exam results, Miss Tybur,” List waves, impatient. He’s been relaxed back against his chair, but now that his certainty is dwindling, he leans forward on the table. “But think. Look at the bigger picture. As a physician you may help a man in need one after the other - years and  years down the line. Six years at the shortest, and if you mean to be a specialist, how much longer? But with the Foundation’s resources, and with our backing at that, you will aid hundreds, thousands - and the motherland most importantly. Within the year. Half, if we move quickly.”

You bite your lip. You want it and you don’t. The Tyburs must do something, or else we are nothing were your exact words to Willy before. But the idea of retaking your name when you have only just arrived here nauseates you, and assisting the expansion, the destruction, under the guise of aid more so. 

“I… would like time to give this some thought, Sir.”

A sigh seems to echo around the room, but it’s only all the men with you and their exasperation. Only Magath is expressionless as List visibly bites his tongue. He gives the commander a glare for good measure, as though it’s his fault you did not agree at once. “Very well,” he says. “But know that prolonging this will only bring harm to the motherland.”

You only nod. Much as you would like to have it, you have no intention of getting the last word here. You avert your gaze from the Commander when you permit the men to leave the room ahead of you.

It seems like the start of a rather miserable day - you’re practically scheduled to overthink all this some time this week, if not this afternoon - when, once the steady march of power has cleared from the hallway, Pieck meets you as you step out of the conference room.

“Boo.”

Your hand flies over your chest, but it’s a chuckle that comes out of you. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“So I’ve been told.” She peeks into the room behind you right as you close the doors. “The brass did not look pleased.”

You wince. “I gave them no reason to be. I hate to get the Commander in trouble, but...” You trail off. You both know you can’t say much more.

It’s Pieck’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“...Sorry.”

“That’s all right,” she shrugs. “I came here for lunch, not information.”

You doubt she knows the extent of the Tyburs’ relationship with the regime, but you can always trust Pieck to know not to pry. “You know, I remember now why you’re my favorite Warrior.”

“Oh?” Pieck grins. “Not the Boy Wonder?”

“Boy Wonder,” you repeat, the way the two of you always have when that name comes up - with a snicker and definitely with no one else around. You’ll never understand how the brass can say it with such straight faces. “So how about that meal?”

She pinches at the skin of your elbow through your sleeve. “Changing the subject doesn’t work on me, you know.”

You sigh. “Can we please eat first? I’m miserable enough without an empty stomach.”

“I guess some things don’t change.”

“Hey!” You half-scoff, half-laugh. With a wink, Pieck slips her arm around yours, and you start down the hallway in companionable silence. 

Or you would, if you didn’t know that you owe her a little more than that. Reaching over to rest your free hand over the arm linked with yours, you look at her. “I’m sorry, Pieck. I really am.”

Pieck waits a moment, and then meets your gaze. She searches yours for the lie, but she already knows it won’t be there. You always were too candid for your own good. With a squeeze at your hand, she nods. “I know. Tell me all about it after that meal. Your treat, right?”

You blink, and then laugh with shaking relief. “Of course.”

--

You and Pieck fall back into the easy rapport you’ve shared since you became friends more than a decade ago. Contrary to her words, she doesn’t press you for answers as you decide on where to eat in the zone. For old times’ sake, you agree on the sandwich place two blocks from the Yeagers’, and you end up sharing a meal in your bedroom. 

Sitting on your bed together, legs dangling over one edge as you nip at your food, you finally work up the courage to speak through your guilt and explain yourself and the past five years—or most of it. And of course Pieck is understanding, which makes you feel even more pathetic. True to form, she picks that up as well and gracefully changes the subject.

You’re the one who brings it back to what still hangs in the air over you when you’ve finished eating. Nothing personal—but though Marcel was the only one with whom you were ever close friends with, Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie were your teammates too. You’d suffered your superiors together during training, and you’d been there for each of their first transformations. For all the experiments too; even their first assault mission. 

“What happened?”

Propped up on one elbow, Pieck is lying on her side, legs tucked under her skirt as you set aside your trash. She accepts the glass you hand her from the table, eyes distant. “Zeke hasn’t told you?”

“Zeke won’t look at me unless he absolutely has to. You know how he is.”

Pieck groans. She knows. “He was so irritating after you stopped writing.”

You click your teeth in a wince. “Really?” 

“Imagine, Lucy—after you all left, I was stuck with him and Porco. The abandonment issues didn’t just double, they were exponential. Multiply that with the ego and the sarcasm? The Commander was my favorite person those days.”

You laugh in spite of yourself. “I am so sorry, Pieck.”

“You should be,” she grumbles, but the remark is softened with a grin. When you grimace, she braces herself with a deep breath.

She tells you everything, or most of it: that the people of Paradis were shocked to find others alive outside of the walls, what Reiner and Bertholdt and Annie went through the past so many years, how the latter were captured—and exactly what happened to Marcel. She saves that one for last, and though you are infinitely more curious about the world behind the coward king’s walls, you reach for her hand again.

“I’m sorry, Pieck.”

She shakes her head. “You don’t have to make apologies all day, you know.”

“Don’t I?” you grin, embarrassed, teeth gritted even when your feigned mirth starts to droop. The dreamy way she speaks throws others off, but you know Pieck. She’s always been the most pragmatic of the Warriors and so she must feel silly, thinking about what could have been, had Marcel returned. Would a childhood crush have become something more between them if things were different? He had promised his family, and her specifically, that he would come home after saving the world. The thought, the regret for a chance not even yours gone, has a weight settling in your throat too.

You clear it and huff. “Well, it’s a great loss. I think everyone was a little in love with Marcel.”

Pieck glances at you.

“...Except Annie,” you add.

The sudden exemption makes Pieck choke with laughter, with tears not far behind. “Except Annie. Of course.”

You giggle, and both of you pretend not to see each other wiping your own eyes. “You know. Annie was always the toughest among us.” You pause. “Is. She is.” When Pieck’s laughter gives way to somber agreement, you ask, “What about Reiner? What has he said? I know what he’s said, but… two weeks of  debriefing… it sounds like a little much.”

“He was there for years,” Pieck shakes her head. “He grew up there, Lucy. He’s… completely different now. Kind of like you.” 

“I think that’s giving me a little too much credit.” You haven’t done anything remotely in the way of serving the motherland; not that you begrudge the others that the way you once did. “All I’ve done is see things and get upset. Until I can get my degree, and then until I can get the War Hammer, there’s nothing I can do.”

That’s a lie. There is apparently the Foundation—but the idea of directly assisting the regime in its efforts is something you cannot consider as you are.

“If you do become a doctor, will they let you have the War Hammer?”

You bite your lip. If only for Lara, you’re still bitter about that. “What was it all for otherwise? Though… I guess if I had inherited it then, there’s no way I’d ever be able to come back and see you all except under specific circumstances. Much less be permitted to study.”

Pieck only sighs, reaching for your hand. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t. And when I think about it… a part of me is glad Marcel didn’t have to see all of what Marley has done. What we had to do in Paradis—and I only saw a speck.”

You know what the others did, but Zeke and Pieck’s involvement apart from retrieving your old comrades is still vague. 

You squeeze her hand reassuringly, but you can’t help it. “What did you have to do?”

 “What we’ve always had to,” she answers with a faint smile. Your friends always had tells when they would rather not say more, and this is unmistakably hers. Given your earlier explanation, you understand why. She intertwines your fingers with gratitude at your silence. 

“So,” you start after a while, “how about some dessert before I walk you back to HQ?”

“Sure. I might as well treat myself a little before we have to head out to the mountains again.” At your questioning gaze, she says, “Training with the Panzer Unit. That’s what all the paperwork was for.”

“Gross.”

She chuckles. “That’s exactly what Zeke says.”

Your face falls at the mention of him. Relieved as you are with your progress with Pieck, Zeke is an entirely different ball game. You hate that that’s the phrase you even thought of.

“You know what?” Pieck sits up smacks her hands on her lap. “I’ll treat you, too.”

You perk up. “Really?”

“For a price.”

“...What’s that?”

“Talk to Zeke already. If I come back after a month to your gloomy faces still, I’m going to go crazy.”

“It’s only been a day,” you mutter. “And I’ve tried to apologize to him.”

Pieck gives you a knowing look. 

“I did,” you insist helplessly, but you both know that’s probably a lie. In Pieck’s case. You know it is absolutely false: when Zeke came upstairs after dish duty, quietly closing the door to his room, you stepped out of yours and stood outside in the hallway, your hand raised to knock on his door. You just couldn’t do it. You can take Porco’s jabs any day, but last night, the thought of Zeke and his silence, or worse, his caustic cheer, sent you scurrying back to your room.

You sigh. “Fine.”

Amused, Pieck gets to her feet for the opportunity to loom akimbo over you. “Good. And if you start to lose heart, try to remember that six-year old who used to glare at Magath like she had nothing to lose. That girl had guts.”

“You mean the half-dead one who wasn’t allowed dinner and got a Warrior class’s worth of cleanup duty alone, whom you specifically told to get over herself if she didn’t want to actually die a few months into training?”

“Exactly. What is Zeke going to do? Tell you to go to your room without dinner?”

Maybe. You sigh. “Sometimes I don’t like it when you’re right.”

Pieck grins. “And when Zeke gets over himself—maybe he’ll tell you about his brother.”

Your shock would be better illustrated in this moment were you sipping a drink you could spit in her face. “His what?”

“Shh. I don’t think he’s told the Yeagers. I think… he only told Magath because I was there when he discovered it. Still,” she says when your eyes remain wide and expectant, “it’s not my place to say. So talk to him.”

--

Medicine is one of the few fields for which Eldians are permitted to pursue higher education. It’s only logical—there are only a few non-Eldians who care to treat pig-blooded devils, and the efforts of those who do are wasted on said filth. And so the regime allows the admission of more Eldians than often permitted under quotas for other majors, even if the number does remain small regardless.

After parting ways with Pieck, you find yourself standing in line in some administrative building in the University of Liberio in the midday heat of summer. The line stretches outside because this is the queue for Eldian students wishing to confirm their intention to enroll over a month from now. That’s all—you need only submit a form and pay a fee, and the line for non-Eldians students has long finished—but of course the line has barely moved for your kind.

You’re clutching your envelope and your permit to your chest, which you quickly realize is a terrible idea. Sweat is starting to trickle down the nape of your neck, and you start to fan yourself with the envelope. Talking to the other applicants in line is prohibited - you must be spaced far from one another so as not to make noise and distract students who actually deserve to be here.

It’s ridiculous. You can’t even leave the line because saving spots is prohibited. Something about being fair.

The frustration crawls up your neck in the form of prickling heat, and you feel a headache coming. You fan yourself more vigorously, trying to calm down. It takes a minute, but the background buzz eventually starts to soothe you, and you begin to accept that you can simply return to the Yeagers’ and change as soon as this is over. The glares your line receives from passing students and the guards watching you, ensuring none of you causes a ruckus (as if any Eldian would dare), fade under the memory of your childhood. You withstood it before, with Magath and the other drill instructors screaming in your face. You can ignore a few nasty looks.

With that as a frame of reference, the line is even almost... peaceful. The heat is dry, not humid, there’s no mud, no blisters in your feet, no rucksack weighing you down, and no rifle either. 

Only the sudden rustle of paper as it slips from your thumb interrupts that peace. 

“No!” you gasp, watching your permit flutter closer to a guard with his back turned. 

Just then a hand swoops in to save it - its owner bent forward, dark hair falling over his face until he rights himself, permit in hand, and glances around. You sigh in relief when you spot the band around his arm and wave him over. 

He jogs over to you, hand already extended with the permit. “Confirming your slot for the medical school?” he asks, brushing away the bangs that fall over his face. He’s got the slightest stubble around his jaw, which he brushes his fingers over when he notices you looking.

You meet his gaze when  you notice you’re looking. “Yeah,” you say, clearing your throat. He smiles at once, as if he can tell you’re embarrassed, but he only casts a glance at the line behind and ahead of you. “It was a lot worse during my time. They had us looping around the gate.”

“Ugh, really?”

He nods, but swallows down his grimace to lick his lips. “I’ve… never seen you around the zone before.”

You blink. Smile a little as you glance around the line. “You know everyone in the zone?”

He opens his mouth to respond with a sheepish grin that makes his eyes twinkle when movement behind him catches your peripheral vision. One of the guards watching the line has noticed him and is stomping his way over. Noticing your alarm, he sticks out a hand. “I’m Kellan, by the way.”

“Lucy. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Lucy,” he repeats, and you’re barely able to shake his hand when the guard yanks him back. 

“Damn pig’s blood—!”

“I’m going, sir. Sorry,” says Kellan, ending the apology with his eyes on you even as he winces from the shorter man’s grip. When he’s eventually released, he ducks away and walks off. He glances over his shoulder to wave, but another guard keeps him moving with a shove.

The shorter one glares at you when he’s gone, and though you remember Pieck’s words, you know this isn’t the time or the place.

“Sorry,” you mutter, eyes to the ground as you turn ahead. Once he’s assured of your submission, he leaves too.

The line takes longer than you expect, but you survive the sweltering heat and submit your form just before the offices close. You hurry back to the zone afterward, dropping by the Galliard bakery to call on Mr. and Mrs. Galliard and offer your condolences. They are shocked but overjoyed to see you, and insist that you take your old favorites when they discover that you’ll be dropping in on Mr. Finger afterward.

You don’t stay long, though Mr. Finger is pleased about your choice of future employment. You feel even guiltier at the unspoken regret in his smile, and beg him not to mention it when he tries to thank you for the support the Tybur family has sent the Fingers over the years—the one thing you think Willy has ever done right.

You return to the Yeagers before dark, early enough to help Mrs. Yeager start with dinner. Dr. Yeager is apologetic as always, but you’re able to change the subject by serving the blueberry pie from the Galliards for a mid-meal dessert of sorts, and the dinner table relaxes soon after. Zeke is absent - he still hasn’t come home from work - so you make sure to leave some for him. This time, Mrs. Yeager allows you to take over cleanup, and the couple retires to their bedroom once the conversation fades into a comfortable silence.

You hope to meet Zeke right as he arrives, corner him into talking to you somehow unless he decides to miss dinner himself, but after half an hour of sitting at the dinner table, cleaning anything you might have missed in the kitchen and the dining room, and rearranging anything out of place in the living room, it starts to look like he won’t be coming anytime soon. 

That’s fine, you tell yourself. You feel slimy from being out in the sun all afternoon anyway, and you treat yourself to a relaxing bath. Zeke is still away when you return to your room, and the calming warmth of your evening has you yawning. You have no choice but to change into your pajamas. 

In truth, you’re a little relieved. Not that you’re particularly answerable to Pieck anyway, at least not until she finishes training with the Panzer Unit, but it won’t be your fault that you and Zeke weren’t able to talk tonight. But just to feel as though you’ve tried your very best, you keep yourself up by starting to write to Lara—and then regret your principle when you hear heavy footsteps outside and a soft click of the door across yours.

The word you’re writing skitters off to the edge of the paper in your surprise. Your heartbeat invades the tense silence of your room, but you manage to take a deep breath, folding your unfinished letter and slipping it under the paperweight on your desk. 

Your door is your next obstacle.

Overlapping images of how Zeke will surely reject you race through your mind alongside the words you wish you could say, and you’re able to keep up with about... none of them. You thought that the words would come to you, and maybe they will, but the moment is about to come and you can’t think of a single word to say. 

If you have time to worry, you have time to just get over there and do it, you tell yourself. You shake your head, regretting your own harshness, but also nod as you hastily gulp down the glass of water on your bedside table. Those words in mind, you move, switching one door for another. No longer standing nose-to-panel with your bedroom door, you’re doing it with Zeke’s in the hallway instead. 

Hand raised to knock, you eye the light peeking out from the gap beneath the door.  Knock. Just knock. The worst he can do is turn you away, and you’ll probably want to wriggle under the dirt and cry, but you’ll at least have tried. You owe it to him to try, like you did with Pieck, and you know you’re braver than this. Or you were, once upon a time.

If you’re still the same girl from years ago, you don’t get to find out just yet.

You hear his footsteps coming from the bathroom too late. No, it’s the heat of another and the familiar scent of his soap which alert you to his presence.

That and his voice, still too deep for the older boy you remember. “Aren’t you a little too old to still be knocking on my door at night?”

“Zeke,” you say, trying to pull your heart down from your throat before you turn and meet his flat expression. He’s in pajamas himself, his hair damp. You must not have heard him head for the bathroom you share down the hall. “Hi.”

That’s more than your mind could summon a while ago, but you still want to smack yourself.

His chest rises and falls as he takes a deep breath. His jaw shifts even as his pale eyes stare down at you in the dim light, as if deciding what to do with you... and then he sighs. He’s too tired to be glib tonight. “Can I help you, Lucy?”

Your lips purse with trepidation, but you stand your ground. “Can we talk?”

He pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. Looking down at you is clearly work. “I’m listening.”

You hesitate, trying not to make another face. It seems to come naturally with Zeke around, but you resist the urge, and instead tilt your head to the side. There is no light coming from the master bedroom down the length of the hallway. When you glance back up at Zeke, you give him a pointed look.

Zeke sighs again, and then… decides to just brush past you to grab his doorknob.

Your stomach twists with both disappointment and pique. “Zeke,” you whisper furiously, barely just stomping your foot.

He whips his head to face you, halfway inside already. “What?” he whispers back, like you’re nagging him. Then he rolls his eyes, swinging his door wide open and backing into it to give you room. 

“Get in.”

--

Sorry for the dearth of Zeke moments this chapter, but the next one will mooostly feature him and yes we'll finally find out why Zeke is upset. I used to write very long chapters with fics, but that really exhausted me so I'm trying to write shorter now to keep myself from burning out. But I'm enjoying writing in 2nd person! I never used to do it because it was frowned upon long ago, and possibly still is now? But idc anymore it's fun to try.

Thank you for reading!

[padsnprongs]

we always talk about sirius and james’ friendship, but what about sirius and lily’s?

lily taking a while to warm up to him, because she thinks he and james are one and the same, but also because she doesn’t trust him, considering his heritage

but she soon comes to the realisation that he is constantly trying to prove everyone wrong, to prove that he is nothing like his family

she sees the way the muscles in his jaw flex whenever someone calls him ‘mr black’

she sees the way he helps a scared, lost first year to find her class

she sees the way he stands up for a muggle born who is being bullied by his own ‘friends’

she sees the way his hands tremble and he quickly excuses himself every time a letter from his parents arrives with the post

she sees the longing glances he throws at the slytherin table, where a younger but practically identical version of him is sitting, shoulders hunched, laughing uncomfortably and looking as if he’d rather be anywhere else but there

they’re the same longing glances she directed at her sister during her summers back home

she knew the pain that sirius was going through, and she was the only one who understood it

as hard as they tried to understand, his three friends were only childs; they would never know a sibling’s love, nor the hollow emptiness that can never quite be replaced

she also knew how it felt to be the outcast in the family, to constantly feel like you didn’t belong, like no one quite wanted you there

And that was why she found herself following Sirius out of the great hall one dark winter morning, after noticing the way his face dropped as he read the signature on the envelope of his most recent letter.

Clutching a letter of her own, written with slow, curly writing that would never portray the shocking message it held, she excused herself from her friends’ conversation and hurried after the quick-footed boy, through corridors, up stairs, past statues, until she was rapidly running out of breath.

Finally, he reached his destination: the Astronomy Tower.

Stopping in the centre of the room, she watched as he strode over to the balcony and leant his elbows on the railing, sighing as he turned the letter over in his hands and gazed out over the Scottish mountains, still blanketed in the darkness that comes with a winter morning.

Debating on whether or not she should join him, she decided against it as she stood still, trying not to alert him to her presence.

'What are you doing, Evans?' he eventually asked in a tired voice. Lily's eyes widened as she realised what he had said. 'Erm, I don't - I'm not - nothing?' Sirius sighed as he turned around. With a jolt, Lily saw that his eyes seemed to be glistening slightly, but she didn't acknowledge it. 'You know, you're not as discreet as you think you are. I've known you were following me since you tripped on that statue.'

'Oh.'

'So?'

'So what?'

'So, what do you want?' He asked with a tired chuckle. 'I figured you were gonna walk over and start talking to me, but you've been stood in the middle of the room for the past ten minutes,' he added, with an eyebrow raised.

Lily felt herself turning red. 'I, erm... I don't know. I saw you rush out of the hall just now, and... I noticed that you do it every time you get a letter in the post, so I just-'

'Wait. Have you been watching me?' Sirius frowned.

Looking down, she replied, 'Well, I mean, I guess? I don't know, I was worried about you. You seemed upset. And I didn't just wanna go up to you and ask, because... well, let's face it, we don't exactly talk, Black.'

Her eyes barely flicked back up in time to see the boy's slight flinch at being called by his last name. Despite this, he chuckled. 'As far as I recall, you've said multiple times you don't want to talk to any of us.'

Lily's mouth curved into a smile, which didn't quite reach her eyes, but she didn't reply. Instead, she walked over to Sirius and imitated the position he had been in a few moments earlier: elbows resting on the rail, eyes flitting over the mountain peaks, the letter from her sister dangling precariously from between two fingers, as though she didn't quite mind whether she dropped it or not.

Turning around, Sirius silently mirrored her stance.

'What's that?' he asked carefully, his chin jerking towards the letter.

Lily didn't look at him as she replied, 'letter from my sister.'

Sirius' head turned to stare at her. 'This is the same sister that was on 9 and 3/4 with you?'

Lily nodded, her lips pursed.

Sirius remembered that girl. His mother had dropped him and his brother off at the platform, before nodding sharply, turning on her heel and leaving, without so much as a 'goodbye'. With a farewell smile at Regulus, who had already been engulfed by a crowd of Slytherins and had completely ignored him, Sirius had wandered off, looking for Peter, whom he had seen disappear into the hubbub earlier. That was when his eyes landed on a family of redheads, all hugging each other tearily. Evans, he thought, grinning. But then, he noticed another girl, who looked eerily similar to Lily, but was standing slightly apart from the huddle, a scowl on her face as she crossed her arms. Standing on his tiptoes to spot Lily through her parents' arms, Sirius noticed the wary glances that Lily was throwing at this girl, and tilted his head as he tried to figure out what was going on. But he didn't have long to contemplate, as just then he was ambushed by a small, grinning boy, already clutching a box of Bertie Bott's. Shaking his head, Sirius had pushed this strange, glowering sister to the back of his mind, and completely forgot about her, until now.

'I'm guessing you're not on the best of terms with her?' he asked, unsure whether he was overstepping.

Lily chuckled softly, but there was no humour in it as her lips curled upwards in disgust. 'You could say that.'

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows, contemplating what to reply. Eventually, he settled on, 'me too.'

'You too what, Black?'

Sirius brought his hand up to rub at the back of his neck, before awkwardly replying, 'um, just Sirius, is fine.' If Lily thought this was strange, she didn't mention it, instead acknowledging his request with a raised eyebrow and a nod of her head. 'And, er, I meant that I also have a sibling that... I guess I'm not on the best terms with, recently.' His sentence ended with a whisper, as he almost seemed to regret sharing this information, previously unknown to anyone, even Remus, with her.

Despite his obvious nervousness at what her reaction might be, Lily merely nodded in understanding. 'Regulus, right?'

Sirius glanced over at her, only to see an earnest, genuine expression staring back at him. 'Yeah.' he said, smiling wistfully at the thought of his baby brother.

'Petunia.' Lily supplied, with a tilt of her head.

'Um, what?'

Lily laughed. 'My sister's name. Petunia. I know your brother's name, so I figure it's only fair that you know my sister's.'

Sirius tilted his head in thought. 'Petunia. And Lily. What, did your parents have a thing for flowers or something?'

Lily nudged him with her shoulder and quirked an eyebrow, answering, 'what, did your parents have a thing for stars?'

Sirius let out a laugh, before nudging her back. 'Touché.'

Lily grinned, studying him with a tilt of her head. 'You know, you're not quite as arrogant and... self-centred as I originally thought, Bla- um, Sirius.'

Grinning, Sirius replied, 'no no, I definitely am, Lily.'

Shoving him again, she reached over and carefully removed his parents' letter from his hands. Turning them both over in her hands for a second as Sirius watched, she paused, and quietly asked, 'do you want to keep this?' with a quick look at Sirius.

Sirius, staring at the two letters, shook his head. 'No.' he whispered, with a sad smile.

Lily shrugged, before leaning off of the railing and tossing the letters, one at a time, out over the landscape like frisbees.

'Not our problem any more.'

Sirius chuckled softly, shaking his head, but glad to be rid of the weight that letter had carried.

And there they had stayed, watching as the sun rose over the mountains and painted the sky with brilliant hues of pink and orange and purple, before retreating back to the common room, bumping into each other and laughing the entire way back.

And so began an easy friendship, but also a connection that neither of them could find with their other friends. They understood what the other was going through, at least in terms of nasty letters from home, and siblings seemingly lost. Every so often, whenever one of them received an unwanted letter in the post, they would sit on the common room sofa together, long after everyone else had withdrawn to their beds, in comfortable silence by the fire, before one would take the other's letter, tilt their head in a silent do you want me to stop?, and then cast the unwelcome envelope into the flames, watching as it curled around the edges, disintegrating into ash.

[kazoo5480]

Almost finished! 30 chapters down, a few more to go. Thanks to those of you who wrote awesome notes, and who provide inspiration to us newbies every day with your lovely tales!

Chapter 1 Arrivals

Prologue – September 1943, New York City

25-year-old Killian Jones steps down the ramp off the Algernon straight from Belfast. He has $40 to his name, the clothes on his back. Having lost his brother in an accident, his mother to illness, and abandonment of his father when he was 7, Killian made a choice to leave his homeland and make his way to America. America was currently engaged in World War II, with no family left, he decides that a fresh start in a new land and a new line of work away from the IRA is just what he needs after the arrests and massacres taking place back in Ireland.

Gun running and violence is not a life he wants any longer, nor is a life in prison, or death. He is hopeful that despite his heritage, he will be able to settle into a new life, away from the massacre left behind on the emerald isle. Finding honest work is harder than he expected, even in a city this large.

Waiting in those long lines with all those other expats, hoping to find honest work and nothing. He goes every day for two weeks but quickly realizes that no one wants to hire an Irishman or give him a fair shake. But he believes you make your own destiny and believes in hard work and determination.

He hears the other men talking, that security and lounges, the US Army, and driving taxis are just about the only people hiring anyone right now if you aren’t American.

Killian has no interest in joining Americas crusade, so he finds a gig working the doors and security a little dingy nightclub at first, but slowly descends into the more glamorous nightclubs and lounges.

Word spreads quickly to his newest employer, Louis Lepke, who owns the Riobamba- one of Manhattan’s most posh nightclubs that Killian was once part of the IRA and has a hell of a left hook. Lepke, one of the most dangerous mob bosses in New York at that time sees potential in Killian, thinks that his past IRA ties could be beneficial to their enterprise, and he offers him a better paying job running pickups and drop offs of packages that Killian doesn’t open and doesn’t want to open.

While the money is nothing to turn your nose up at, Killian continues this path, socking away the cash and crafting an entirely new persona for himself while making his own contingency plans to disappear for a quieter life someplace near the sea, perhaps finding peace and burying his demons for good at last.

Killian will never forget the day he was able to move out of the vermin infested room he had been renting in a boarding house on the lower east side, and into a three-room apartment of his own for $80 a month near Washington Square Park. Not cheap by any means, but it’s a second-floor walkup, with a fireplace, and wide windows that overlook the street.

Lepke pays him three hundred a month right now, but he always earns tips from both ends of pickup and delivery, and that extra cash is always appreciated.

He will never forget the first suit he purchases, or his first pair of new shoes in god knows how many years. He knows with his new employment, he needs to look the part, so he only is careful in his wardrobe choices, dark colors that won’t show dirt easily, well-tailored shirts, wingtips in black and white, and two hats that he sees the other men wearing.

He manages to pry a floorboard in the back of his new closet loose, securing the hole with a thin layer of wood, ensuring nothing would fall through or be lost to the ageing building, and he uses this as home for his cash and very little valuables. He has no furniture to speak of, except a mattress on the floor with linens, but he knows soon enough he will have money to furnish his new home.

For now, he is only willing to spend money on rent, and groceries, he saves every dollar that he earns after his necessities are purchased.

What he does not expect is meeting Emma Swan, an enchanting blonde lounge singer at the Riobamba. Frank Sinatra even plays there on occasion, so the joint was always packed. But amongst all those entertainers, is Emma. With the voice of an angel, the body of a bloody goddess, and a fire in her green eyes.

He knows that from the moment he saw her dancing and singing across that smoke filled room, that he was going to have her no matter the cost. Tonight, her golden curls pinned back on one side with a glittering clip, wrapped in a floor length sequin dress cut scandalously low in the front, even for the nightclub scene at that point in time.

She is easily the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, and he wonders if she works for Lepke as well, a personal relationship perhaps, and the thought of any man touching her at all has him see red when those thoughts flit through his mind. He always hopes divine intervention is on his side to catch a glimpse of her during her sets, whether picking up or dropping off to his boss.

Occasionally he just sits in the back nursing a rum while he watches her, gliding around the small stage, dressed like sex personified, singing in that angelic voice of hers, enchanting the entire room.

She sings songs of love and happiness, sometimes she covers popular music of other entertainers, but he sees the sadness and demons lingering behind those emerald eyes, the glittering dresses and gorgeous gold curls. He wants to know more, scale those walls he can spot a mile high surrounding her.

On more than one occasion he is thankful for the low lighting of the club and his dark suits to hide the evidence of his rock-hard arousal that she stirs up every damn time he lays eyes on her. Green eyes that sparkle in the low lighting, locking on his blue. She sees him and he sees her, never exchanging words, just eye locks and then he is off.

In a rare occasion that Killian indulges the other members of his crew in playing craps, he casually asks about Emma to one of the kinder men, Bill Starkey, a slightly older married man, who handles the books for the clubs that Lepke owns.

“What of that lounge singer Starkey, she is a sight for sore eyes if I may say so myself”, Killian mentions with a smile. The older man looks him over for a second, and replies “She is a quite a dame, isn’t she? Voice of a siren an everything, but she is not to be trifled with - She keeps to herself, is a bloody fantastic piece of entertainment, draws the crowds in, but she does not mess with our crew. Many of ours have learned that the hard way he says with a laugh, Tough as brass that one is, so don’t bother with her”, and the man went back to the game.

When Starkey bids goodnight, leaving the younger men to their games, another crew member that Killian has somewhat befriended named Victor Whale leans over, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “If its Emma you’ve set your sightings on, you are not as slick as you think ya git, my girl Ruby mentioned that she caught you watching her shows on occasion, but Emma doesn’t date anyone around here, if she does date, it isn’t anyone related to our line of work”.

Bidding goodnight to Killian and the few stragglers still playing, he stands and Killian notices Ruby Lucas in her coat waiting by the door with a smile on her face. Whale takes her hand and pulls them out the door. Killian feels a pang of jealousy at their obvious companionship but pushes the thought away.

Ruby Lucas, the costume coordinator for the club, is a gorgeous specimen of her own right with long chocolate locks, hazel eyes, and legs for days. She has worked in the club a long time, and if anyone knows Emma, its Ruby. Killian decides that perhaps he shall inquire to Ms. Lucas about Swan but tucks the thought away for another time.

He has gained enough information about her for one night, he will have to just be patient. If Ruby has noticed him watching Emma, he would bet the few dollars left in his lightened pocket tonight that she has told Swan about him, and that is something he is not quite sure he knows how to feel about.

He wonders what Ruby would tell Emma, since she was obviously very much with Whale, she must know more about their conducted business, but appears to know when to keep her mouth shut. Maybe, the tides will be in his favor since he tends to keep a low profile in his job. The bosses like him because he is discreet and is known not to be messed with.

Emma sees him alright, black suits, navy wool suits, tuxedoes at parties, custom made shirts, and she would bet her last dollar that those cufflinks he always wears are actual sterling silver.

He has slicked back inky hair, tousled in just the right places, a permanent five o’ clock shadow, and forget me not blue eyes that haunt her for days every single time she catches a glimpse of him staring right back at her. 

She notices the way he carries himself, so confident, dangerous, and definitely a hustler. He must be connected somehow, and Emma does not want that complication in her simple life.

He looks at her sometimes like he would devour her like a man on death row, and she being his last meal. She cannot get mixed up with someone like him, she has survived this long without someone, and the last time she allowed someone into her heart it nearly broke her in two.

Her friend Ruby has casually mentioned him, his name is Killian Jones, he works with her boyfriend Victor, but she does not know exactly what his role is. Ruby giggles as she talks about how handsome Killian is, and notes that he always throws her a generous tip, never ogling her or being disrespectful like some of the other crew who think that any woman in the club is dumb enough to roll in the sack with them.

Ruby has been with her boyfriend for a few years from what she mentions, having been together since before Victor’s job with Lepke’s crew, whatever that may be. Ruby is also one of the few people that makes Emma smile genuinely and lifts her spirits. Emma considers the brunette one of her very few real friends.

One night after her set is done, Emma enters her dressing room, and slips out of her dress, carefully hanging it inside the garment bag, and lights a cigarette, swallowing a sip of her Manhattan. Her roommate Mary Margaret is getting better and better with her sewing skills, her emerald green gown tonight is delicate, covered in sequins and green feathers float around the hem of her dress, she admires the gown once more before zipping the bag.

Standing in her silk stockings and garters, she begins removing her jewelry and realizes suddenly that she is not alone. Sitting in a low chair in the back corner of the dressing room is Killian fucking Jones. She grabs for her silk robe, tying it quickly- trying to regain some of her modesty. Watching her with those blue eyes, fingers crossed under his chin while he leans forward, elbows on his knees.

"Don't stop on my account love, I simply wanted to introduce myself, and I thank the bloody gods that I was granted enough luck to watch your private show just now. He smirked at her, running is tongue over his bottom lip, and she wanted to punch that smirk off his smug face, even if her heart beat faster in her chest and not from anxiety.

“Emma breathe,” she internally chastises herself. Her brain reconnects, she stamps out her cigarette, and she manages to spit out “listen pal, I don't know who the hell you think you are, but I am not that type of woman. Go buy one down the street if you need to get your rocks off but get the hell out.”

He stood up, adjusting his trousers by the belt, which she noticed were fitting awfully tight, the evidence of his arousal clear but now covered as he buttoned his coat up.

He spoke, his voice a lilting Irish accent, “I apologize lass, I simply wanted to introduce myself and give you these in person,” he held out a large bouquet of creamy white roses tipped in pale pink, tied with a black silk ribbon. 

“You are a vision, both on and off the stage Swan, and I simply was hoping to make your acquaintance as we seem to catch each other’s eye from time to time. I thought perhaps my interest was reciprocated, but clearly it is not, and I shan't bother you again”.

Emma did not know what to say, still shocked, her red painted mouth in a grim line. She caught his cologne as he made his exit, carefully avoiding touching her in any way. He smelled of wood and spice, and definitely rum.

Right as he was crossing the threshold to exit, Emma made a rash decision, and grabbed his hand, locked eyes with him and said, “Don't ever do that again, thank you for the flowers, but I am not interested.” 

“They're nothing compared to you Emma, but I do apologize again”, and with that parting line Killian quietly exited, making sure to close the door fully behind him.

Emma locked the handle, ensuring no one else would interrupt her. She cleaned most of her face off and pulled on her burgundy wool dress and matching coat, gathered her things, and her flowers hailing a cab home.

Tagging a few who might be interested! @wefoundloveunderthelight @itsfabianadocarmo @purplehawkcaptain @the-lady-of-misthaven @the-captains-ayebrows @thesschesthair @myfearless-love @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @hookedpirate @xhookswenchx @let-it-raines @letmedieahooker @captainswanouat @captainswoon @cathloves @laschatzi @timeless-love-story @asluve @ao3feed-cs @ahookerandproud @ineffablecolors @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @kymbersmith-90 @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @tnlph @the-captains-ayebrows @captainswoon @captainswanouat @captain-swan-coffee​ @jrob64​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​​ @captainirishstubble @onceuponadaily​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​ @greenlef777 Let me know if you want to be added or removed! 

[dreaming-of-assclass]

Oooooo if 3-E were supernatural creatures who would be what 👀👀👀

Oooohh this is interesting to think about! I’m sorry, I don’t know a lot haha so I did some research to have more options!!

Karma: Demon

I feel like I don’t need to elaborate on this too much lmao. The boy is mischievous, LOVES to mess with mortals for no reason. When he’s feeling a particularly strong emotion, usually rage, excitement, etc, his eyes glow a shade of yellow-gold (like what canon showed)

Isogai: Demi-God

His crazy perfection in everything has to come from somewhere. His father was a God who left his realm and lost his immortality to be with Isogai’s mother, a mortal. Isogai only became aware of his heritage after his father’s passing.

Okajima: Half-Angel

LMAO I mostly picked this for the irony, but it kinda fits ngl. He’s generally a good, loyal, kind person and a very good friend. His perverted nature is his one big flaw and comes from the influence of his mortal father, who was his main guardian since his mother remained on Heaven.

Okano: Werewolf

I’m gonna credit this one to @greengargouille haha. They made a wonderful post about this idea that I still adore with my whole heart. But yeah, Okano being a badass werewolf with crazy athleticism and defying femininity expectations? Yes please.

Okuda: Witch

She excels in potion-making, of course. She comes from a long line of witches and magic-users in her family. So she feels quite a bit of pressure to be successful. She’s very talented but needs a tad bit more of control in her magic.

Kataoka: Mermaid

This one shouldn’t be a surprise haha. She’s a very strong and powerful swimmer...but where does all that raw talent come from? Surprise, Megu is a mermaid and she can transform between her physical forms at will. She loves the water because it’s her home and what she knows best.

Kayano: Part-Phoenix

I don’t know how this works and how someone can be part-Phoenix lmao, but it fits her way too well. A being that goes out in flames and starts a new life...isn’t that basically what Kayano did after her reveal? Her new life is her going by Akari again and showing her true colors to the class.

Kanzaki: Goddess

She’s apart of a very royal family of gods...all with ridiculously high standards and little respect for her. Kanzaki is very powerful and has so much raw potential but she’s never been able to show it. Her best skills are teleportation, invisibility, and a strong grasp on aerokinesis.

Kimura: Centaur

I’m serious about this one lmao. He’s a very fast runner and impresses everyone, and it’s thanks to his strong physique and raw energy in centaur form. Don’t worry, he can shape-shift back to a human form, but he hates it because he loses his height and is back to being 160 cm.

Kurahashi: Fairy

Of course, this bright, sunny, cheerful sweet girl could only be a fairy. She has a very strong connection to nature and wildlife, to the point that if they’re harmed, she feels the pain. Her wings are very tiny at age 14 can easily hide underneath her clothes. But by adulthood, they’re grown and able to use for flight.

Nagisa: Half-Ghoul

Surprise...this soft boy is actually half-evil :’). His father is actually a ghoul, and Nagisa was very much unaware of it for all his life. Hiromi kept it a secret and tried to suppress that part of him too. Basically I imagine what it means for Nagisa is that death draws him, and his physiology is why he has such a high bloodlust. When he’s pushed to his limits, he’s terrifying... (cough Takaoka cough)

Sugaya: Wizard

He comes from a relatively average line of wizards, who all moved to the mortal realm and own artisan businesses. Sugaya wishes to do something similar and follow his passion for art. He mostly uses his magic for that, levitating his brushes, enhancing his work, creating new things. He’s quite talented at conjuring.

Sugino: Angel

Yes, I’m serious about this. Sugino is a very good person and always strives to lead others down the right path. He’s good at guiding, but even he wants to live for himself for once. So he learns what baseball is and grows a strong love for it.

Takebayashi: Wizard

Unlike Sugaya, he comes from a super prestigious line of successful and powerful wizards. His family is one of the top ones. He feels immense pressure to live up to them. His talents lie in fire magic, particularly creating explosions. And he’s a very skilled healer.

Chiba: Half-Dragon

Fitting considering his name 💜 He has the ability to change between his human and dragon form, but it’s very shaky for now. His eyes are a bright, terrifying shade of red, and it exposes his dragon heritage so he must hide it.

Terasaka: Half-Titan

His Titan physiology is the reason for his raw strength and physical prowess. He’s incredibly strong and has a high endurance, durability, stamina... He’s a talented fighter and will always use his advantage to protect his loved ones.

Nakamura: Siren

She hates being a siren so much. She has to deal with boring mortal guys all the time, who for some reason, love her voice. She gets a real kick out of fooling them though, and the pranks are always chaotic. Since she’s been having to sing and use her voice, she’s gotten the chance to learn many languages. She has an affinity for them, and wants to continue learning more.

Hazama: Witch

I know this is a little cliche. But in contrast to the potion-centered Okuda, Hazama excels in linguistic spells. She keeps a journal of every new one she learns, as well as images of herbs and such. She’s very interested in dark arts, but will only indulge in it with the presence of someone else, to make sure she doesn’t fall too deep.

Hayami: Witch

Wow I’m really repeating so many. Hayami is a very hardworking, talented witch. But she’s so focused on helping others, she tends to get taken advantage of unfortunately. She’s best at transfigurations, altering things to her (and others) liking. Her favorite test subject is Okajima. She’s quite talented in hand-to-hand combat and having kinetic vision, which helps in magic. She wants a cat as a familiar so badly.

Hara: Fairy

Hara says “fuck you” to the idea that fairies are traditionally small and frail. She’s proud of her physique and strength, and her interest in fighting. She’s still the sweetest fairy there could be, always looking after everyone and all of nature. She loves cooking and sharing it with as many people as she can find.

Fuwa: Ghost

Yep our crazy, lively Fuwa is a ghost! Specifically, she’s a poltergeist, the kind who try to create mischief in some way and move things around. The reason why Fuwa is kinda wild and open about her passions is so she can be noticed by people...if her presence isn’t being acknowledged, she loses her physical form and goes back to being a transparent spirit. It isn’t all bad though. Her favorite thing to do is read mangas in ghost form, so all people see is a floating copy of One Piece.

Maehara: Vampire

This one is a little cliche lmao, but he’s a vampire playboy who always ends up accidentally turning his girlfriends into vampires too with his bites. No one ever suspects him of being a vampire since he looks like sunshine incarnate. He’s quite reckless and has come close to being exposed multiple times, and Isogai always scolds him.

Mimura: Elf

Poor boy is a little insecure about being an Elf...he tries his best not to stand out, especially given his dad’s love for the spotlight. He is good at basic magic, slightly above average. His best talent and what he excels at is photokinesis. He uses it on his filming hobby, to change what’s on camera, adjust lighting, etc. He can go as far as even completely remove shadows from the sunlight.

Muramatsu: Alchemist

He comes from a relatively average family of alchemists that used their abilities for culinary purposes. He enjoys it a lot, and is very talented. He prefers to rely on physical prowess when it comes to fights, but is able to use his alchemy additionally.

Yada: Vampire

Yada is the hot vampire girlfriend we all wish we had 😔 Just kidding haha. But yes, she’s a vampire and no one would ever expect it with how good she is at hiding. She plans out her life and days to specifically avoid sunlight, garlic, etc. She’s a very busy member of the school community and has tons of friends and connections. She and Maehara, her fellow vampire, constantly compete to see who can get more dates.

Yoshida: Werewolf

This is slightly cliche since he’s the resident bad boy, but it fits. He tries to keep a tough image even in human form partly since his family taught him to do so, and because it is comfortable for him. But he’s a softie deep down, and is nowhere near as ruthless as he’s believed to be.

Ritsu: Magic Mirror?

Hmm this is kind of the only option I see fitting for her as it correlates to her role in canon. One classmate has to carry the mirror around for her to communicate, but she’s very powerful and helpful.

Itona: Mummy

Ok so storyline here: he was abandoned to die by his family centuries ago, and his 13 body was mummified against his will. In present time, Shiro awakens him, revives him, and uses him as a tool. He goes through a lot...but is able to live a peaceful life with 3-E once all that is over. He wears bandages almost everywhere, only exposing his eyes which glow yellow when he’s using his power.

Bonus:

Gakushuu is a Demi-God, of course. He’s pretty annoyed that his elemental magic only extends to hydrokinesis and cryokinesis, but he’s still amazingly talented.

Ren is a Merman who flirts with girls at the beach with sappy poetry. He’s gotten caught in a fisher net too many times.

Seo is an Ogre.

[chaoswillfallrpg]

REGINA ROWLE is TWENTY-SIX YEARS OLD and an UNSPEAKABLE in THE HALL OF PROPHECY at THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC. She looks remarkably like LOGAN BROWNING and considers herself aligned with THE DEATH EATERS. She is currently OPEN. 

→ OVERVIEW:

Intelligent and curious, Regina Rowle needed to know everything about anything. Born to British Pure-Blood socialite DEMEAS ROWLE and Witch  ATIYA ROWLE Regina and her younger sister ROWENA were brought up in a loving household just outside the city of Cambridge. Their mother, an exceptional witch moved from the North West of Africa after her school years at Uagadou in order to attend one of the most prestigious universities out there, Cambridge university, it was here that she had met Demeas and they fell madly in love. The pair had a whirlwind romance and married quickly, much to the dismay of Demeas’ family, Atiya’s dreams of becoming a writer put on hold for another dream of hers, motherhood. Regina and Rowena were raised in a clash of cultures, neither parent wanting them to miss out on their European or African magical heritage. Their father would tell them stories of Hogwarts, Regina’s eyes lighting up whenever he did so, excited to get up to the same mischief that her father had. Rowena on the other hand delighted in the stories their mother told about her childhood in Africa. Despite the differences between the two sisters and the three years that separated them the sisters were inseparable, wherever Regina went Rowena would follow, not because Regina was bossy or Rowena weak willed, but more because they couldn't stand to be apart.

Being part of Pure-Blood wizarding society meant attending certain events and parties, Rowena found them rather boring and immediately wanted to leave whereas Regina enjoyed them for one reason and one reason only. Their cousins, THORFINN and CAMILLE ROWLE would always attend the same events, and although they were never introduced to one another due to a row their fathers had many years ago that only worsened with time Regina was very intrigued by her cousin Camille. The girl was a puzzle that Regina wanted to solve, she made no effort to hide her hatred for her brother and Regina’s ever present curiosity got the better of her. When the sisters were not attending parties their mother was teaching them magic, getting around the underaged magic law by using traditional African spells and methods instead of the European way of using a wand. Regina listened intently to her mother but got nowhere with the spells, she practiced in her room almost every night but quickly lost interest due to her lack of ability, hoping desperately that she would improve, secretly scared that she was a squib. Her sister thrived with her mother's guidance and there was no doubt that she had magic flowing through her veins, the family all waiting with bated breath for Regina to show some magical abilities, they finally got their wish when she picked up her mother's wand one day and accidentally turned the cat pink. 

Along with her Hogwarts letter, Regina received the news that her mother had been commissioned for a book and would be leaving for Africa the day after she boarded the train. Knowing that Rowena wanted so dearly to immerse herself in her African heritage her mother decided to bring her along, the pair living there until it was Rowena’s turn to leave for Hogwarts. Excited by the opportunity to immerse herself in to another life and to finally step out alone she took everything in her stride, made friends with the right girls, stayed away from the wrong boys, and most of all, introduced herself to her estranged cousin Camille who had already made a lasting impression on the cohort of Hogwarts despite only being in second year. She rode on the coattails of her cousin's reputation, asking Camille for help whenever she needed it. Camille was happy to do so as she wanted to leave the perfect legacy of the Rowle name behind when she left the school a year before Regina would. Camille pointed her in the direction of BRIDGETTE DE MONTMORENCY, EVORA TRAVERS and LUCINDA TALKALOT, a group of girls that held the same priorities as she did and Regina fitted in perfectly. The group would often be found pretending to study in the library whilst actually talking about anything else, quickly getting thrown out by the librarian they would laugh all the way to an unused classroom on the fifth floor that the girls had claimed as their own. When it came to actual work Regina was happy to find out that with a wand her magic worked excellently, she shone in Charms and Transfiguration and also had a special knack for Divination, a trait her mother said came from her. 

Three years into her school career her sister Rowena joined Hufflepuff and Regina got a shock when the young, naive sister that she remembered was not the girl to arrive at Hogwarts. She had changed, grown up and Regina no longer knew where she stood, she wanted terribly to be close to her again, but she also wanted to give Rowena the space that she needed to grow into her own person, the space that she herself that was given by having three years without her sister. In her final years of Hogwarts Regina and her friends grew close to WALDEN MCNAIR and WILLIAM GOYLE, a pair of Slytherin boys that brought out the more mischievous side to the group of girls. Becoming increasingly closer to Walden, the pair fell into a relationship, partly because it was what Regina thought she should do and partly to stop the expectant glances sent her way by her friends whenever she was close to him. They became exceptionally close but Regina felt the relationship was off, something was missing and never one to shy away from an awkward conversation she brought it up several months into their relationship much to Walden’s relief. They talked on the astronomy tower for hours on end, well past curfew and came to the conclusion that actually they much preferred the company of their own genders when it came to romance. Ending on good terms they became best friends and laugh about the event now. 

Leaving Hogwarts behind Regina felt free to explore her feelings fully and it could be said that she left a string of witches in her wake, always living in the moment she got as much enjoyment she could out of someone and happily moved on to the next when she was through. Working for the ministry as an Unspeakable in the hall of prophecies was a sure fire way to attract witches, the mystery that surrounded her job did her well when it came to her love life. ALEXANDRA ROSIER was a witch that fell prey to her charms, they met through her cousin Camille during one of her many visits to the magazine to gossip with her, she got introduced to Alexandra and the pair hit it off. Both on the same page the witches had an agreement of sorts, no strings attached, just fun. Working at the ministry has also brought out her childhood curiosity, except now she finds gossip about her colleagues most intriguing, she thrives in knowing about everyone's business, infact, Regina gossips so much about others that it is almost ironic that her job title is ‘unspeakable’. Her curiosity has gotten the best of her on a few occasions and has in fact made her most unliked by one RITA SKEETER who is severely annoyed over the fact that Regina can spread gossip much quicker than she can publish it.

Living with Walden in a large loft apartment in Camden town meant you could either find the pair in the bars and clubs below, drinking far too much and seeing where the night would take them or you would find them moping about the morning after strewn across their living room. The pair dont have a secret between them and it is well known amongst the two that they have a problem when it comes to their love lives, they would spend hours complaining about the unfairness of it all and would have to go on another night out to make themselves feel better. It's not that Regina didn't enjoy the single life, it was more that she was worried she would never find the person who would make her want to give it up. Her fears however dwindled slightly when after drinking far too much she tripped and fell over her far too high heels and broke her ankle, Walden, the ever perfect best friends apparated her to St Mungo’s where MARIANNE MACMILLIAN was the mediwitch who mended her leg. Regina found herself entranced by the delicate way the witch healed her, her softness overwhelming her. She found herself afterwards coming up with excuses to visit the hospital, she would pop in to visit a friend who was never there, or grab some fliers about dragon pox from the reception even though she had already had them. She did all this with the hopes of catching a glance of the witch that seemed to occupy her mind far too much lately. Not yet ready to give up on being single though Regina vowed to continue as she was and if she happened upon Marianne naturally then it was meant to be. 

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Pure-Blood, Vampire

Pronouns → She/Her

Identification → Cis Female 

Sexuality  → Homosexual 

Relationship Status → Single

Previous Education →  Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Ravenclaw)

Family → Rowena Rowle (sister), Camille Rowle (cousin), Thorfinn Rowle (cousin)

Connections  → Bridgette De Montmorency (best friend), Evora Travers (best friend), Lucinda Talkalot (best friend), Walden McNair (best friend), William Goyle (close friend), Alexandra Rosier (romantic liaison), Marianne MacMillian (potential love interest), Evangeline Selwyn (friend/colleague),  Rita Skeeter (adversary)

Future Information → N/A

REGINA ROWLE IS A LEVEL 5 VAMPIRE.

[abrunettefangirlnerd]

Little Bird - Mini

 Request: wanted to ask you if you could do a Loki x teen!Reader. Where the reader meets Loki in some way and she touches him and connect their souls 'cause she has powers she doesn't know about. And then some day she's in pain or smth and Loki feels it and comes to her. And she finds out she just can connect her soul with someone she trusts. And loki is all sweet ? And angst maby. Please and thank you.

Pairing: Loki Odinson x teen!Reader

Chapter: Mini Story

A/N: Okay so I am not going to do official chapters but I think I will release a few mini stories about their lives together. Not sure how many I will do. I am really loving how adorable Loki is and his interaction with the reader. If you want to be tagged let me know. Hope ya’ll still enjoy it!

Chapter One       Chapter Two

“This is so not fair.” You whisper, out of breath.

             Loki’s lean figure slightly leans forward, hovering over your own. His breathing is heavy and his hair tries to cling to what is left of his bun. You take in a few deep breaths of your own and ignore the sweat dripping off of your body. The team has been making you physically train. Not with your powers but with punches, kicks, and flips. When they said you would get to train, you initially thought this meant you would get to control these so-called powers you seem to possess. Apparently not!

“Once you can control your own body during a fight, controlling your powers will become easier.” Loki grins. “Besides, I like you on the floor gazing up at me.”

             Loki takes pride in his little bedroom comment. Meanwhile you swing your leg around and knock him off his feet. A thud on the mat tells you that he is down and is time to get up. Using the little energy you have left, you push your body up into a standing position. Much like the way Nat or Steve do during a fight that in your opinion is a show-off move. Regardless, one night you asked Nat to teach you. You figured there may be some satisfaction in executing it one day. Funny how the time comes sooner than expected.

             Looking down at the god beneath you, you can’t help but allow a well deserved smirk to take residence across your lips. This is the first fight you have won, hopefully it won’t be the last. Taking in Loki’s appearance, you begin to understand what is so appealing about being the one left standing. The dominant person standing.

“Don’t get used to it, little bird.” Loki breathes. “I’ll get my rematch later.”

“STOP!” Tony’s voice booms through the intercom. “I can’t take any more of your sexual banter in the training room. Keep it in the bedroom!”

             A faint spread of heat rushes against your cheeks from Tony’s comment. Despite what most would think by looking at you, you are quite a private person about that area of your life. You know Tony is all talk and doesn’t mean anything by it. He doesn’t even know what is going on behind closed doors at the compound. It would be quite shocking for them all to find out.

             Tony gets called out for a meeting at Stark Industries and allows you to call it an early day. Thankfully he had to take Wanda and Vision so even they couldn’t make you practice meditating on your powers. Feeling them as a part of yourself and not as a threat, and accepting them. It will allow you to hone your powers and use them. Seems like there is a lot of stuff they are making you do first before actually letting you use your powers. Meanwhile, you’re sure they just went at it themselves without all this mumbo jumbo.

             Following Loki back to his bedroom you are lost in thought about how to improve at your training so you can get to the next level. It barely registers that you sit on his bed crisscross as Loki disappears to the closet to change out of his training gear. With the snap of his fingers, you are now out of your own training gear and in your favorite pair of sweats and tank top.

“Time for a rematch.” Loki’s low deeps voice appears behind you.

             His arms wrap around your torso and his fingers attack your stomach. You cry out in laughter and pain as you try to pry his hands off of you. As a child your father would constantly tickle you, usually in surprise attacks like this one. Twisting your body in his arms, you manage to face him. Loki’s smug face peers down at you. He thinks he has won. Guess again.

             Suddenly his fingers are no longer moving. His arms are slowly unwrapped from your body. Their movement falters for a moment as Loki attempts to fight back, but you quickly regain control. Electricity thrums through your arms as your magic overpowers his. You manage to lift his arms above his hands against his bed railing. With a bit more concentration you will a free length of lace to wrap a nicely tight bow across Loki’s wrists. Now you are the one looking smug.

“You’ve been practicing without me.” Loki is breathless once again. “I have to say, if I wasn’t a bit terrified I would be 100% turned on.”

             Leaning your body over his, you look deep into his eyes as you bring your face closer. As your lips meet, every nerve in your body is engulfed in flames. Never in your entire life have you met someone that makes you feel as alive as Loki. Even a simple kiss excites everything inside of you, even your bones. Never have you felt like losing such control but yet feeling as safe as could be. But before either of you could get carried away, you break the kiss and sit at the end of the bed.

“Definitely less terrified.” Loki gleams toward you. “Though we still need to be careful.”

             Loki’s reminder saddens you. With a flick of your wrist Loki is released from his lace bondage. He is the one person in the world that you want but yet you cannot fully have him. Tony’s remark earlier left you a little flustered. Only because the two of you haven’t actually had sex yet. Neither one of you is in a big rush, but since you can’t it makes you want it more. Funny how that is always the case?

             It was Loki’s idea. Since no one is sure of the full extent of your powers, he thinks it is best to keep emotions from an all-time high. You agreed and still do, most of the time. You often wonder if he is as miserable about it as you are. He doesn’t show it and you do your best to hid it as well. It isn’t always easy to be so close to him, alone, and not get what you want.

Sometimes you think Loki has another motive behind why you two should delay. He said he could be dangerous if he gets carried away. Since he has arrived in your life, outside of watching you sleep, you have been getting to know a lot about his past. He isn’t always eager to share but he does anyway. Some things take longer than others to surface but you know he is going to tell you in his time. You don’t want to rush him, but this particular comment definitely has peaked your interest.

“The first night in my room umm…” your cheeks turn a light pink as you think of the right words. “What did you mean by ‘I can get dangerous if I get carried away’?”

“I was hoping you didn’t remember that.” Loki lets out a shaking laugh. He takes your hands in his and concentrates on them instead of meeting your gaze. “I am not Asgardian like my brother. My birth father is from another realm where he is king of these horrible beasts.”

             Loki’s voice begins to waver. He takes a moment to calm himself before continuing. His breathing is uneven still as he recalls all that he has learned about his heritage.

“Basically they are ice monsters. Cold is their pleasure and they have no problem harming anyone to get what they want.” Loki sneaks a glance at you to gage your reaction. “My natural form is a lot.. bluer, colder. I highly suggest you never touch me in this form. Legend says a single touch can turn anyone into frozen stone. I’ve never tried it, and I really do not want to start with you.” Loki sighs and you know he is finally getting to his point. “I am afraid that if we are intimate with one another I may lose control and my glamour will fade, revealing my true form. I worry that it will frighten you, and I worry of what I can do to you.”

             You see that what is left of Loki’s calm and collected façade begin to fade. Obviously this isn’t a topic that he talks about often, and you feel honored that he could share it with you. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you sit on his lap and wrap your legs around his torso. As you stroke your fingers through his hair you feel a wet cold tear fall against your bare shoulder. Loki has been in pain a great deal of his life and has mastered the art of silent crying. You hope one day it won’t have to be so silent around you.

“Thank you for sharing with me.” Your voice is low, calming, soothing. “I believe we are what we decide to become, not who we are born. You may be blue and able to freeze things, but you are anything but a monster.”

             Loki’s grip around your hips tightens as you speak. Most people in the past, even his brother, has written him off as the bad guy. Until recently did people begin to see the hero and ally that Loki has always wanted to become.

“You’re my hero, Loki.”

             Loosening your hold on him, you peer into his tear stricken eyes. Leaning in close, you kiss his cheeks just below the eyes. Kissing away his tears. Revisiting Loki’s gaze, you look for an indication to stop but you find nothing. Again you lean in close and lightly brush your lips against his.

             The fiery heat radiates off of your body like before. Though something is different this time. A cool electrifying current passes through, starting at your lips and spreads through your whole body. The feeling excites you as you realize this streak is coming from Loki. He is letting down his walls little by little, staying up enough to keep you safe.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You assure him.

“Neither am I, little bird.” Loki’s cold breath brushes away your heated exterior. Quickly he gazes into your eyes before connecting his lips with yours once more.

Taglist:@drabby-abby​ @senpaiweird​ @clairewinchester14 

[cicada-bones]

The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 14: The Assassin

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

That night Rowan lay awake, brooding.

He had been jerked from his usual nightmares, and could still feel the blood dripping from his fingers, see the faces of her killers, feel the heat on his skin of his home in flames. He wondered idly if the images would always weigh on him so, if he would never be free of them. He wondered if he even wanted to be.

Rowan sighed, shifting his thoughts away from such pointlessness. He had lost his mate, his life partner. He would always be searching, forever waiting for her to reappear, until he finally joined her in the Afterworld.

Instead, Rowan turned his thoughts to the questions the girl had thrown at him that afternoon. It had almost seemed as though she was skirting around the subject, avoiding asking about what really interested her. Not that he didn’t suspect what was really on her mind.

And this time, her curiosity hadn’t irritated him. Most of the questions she’d voiced aloud had revolved around the life of Fae. She had lived most of her life in ignorance of half of her heritage – of her very identity. Rowan didn’t fault her for wanting to understand her own family and history.

And the princess had made a deal with Maeve knowing even less about Fae than he had originally suspected. She had absolutely no idea who she made a bargain with, no idea what awaited her Doranelle. What she would likely be forced into when he took her there.

For now he had little doubt that the girl would eventually pass his tests, and he would be forced by the blood oath to abide by Maeve’s orders, and bring the girl to the city of rivers. But he was still unsure what Maeve would do upon their arrival, what she really wanted from the girl. The obvious answer was that she wanted her for her power, wanted to use her. Perhaps even wanted her to swear the blood oath, and join her warrior court.

But all of them had taken the oath willingly, regardless of their feelings about it now, and the Heir of Terrasen had no intention of becoming a weapon in his queen’s arsenal. She had her own agenda, her own questions for Maeve. Not that Rowan had any idea what those were.

Obviously, Maeve was planning something, and the princess would walk into Doranelle unprepared and unawares. And Rowan would be the one who took her there. For some reason, that didn’t sit well with him.

Rowan turned over, facing away from the stream of moonlight spreading across the bedcovers and instead turning to the blank stone wall of the small, cold room.

The fire he’d set before he’d fallen asleep had long since burned out, but he could still taste its embers in the air, a memory of the flicker of flames. So similar to the scent of the princess’ power.

Rowan swallowed. He could almost taste it – the girl’s blood in his mouth. Like an echo, or a pale remnant. Something twisted in his gut.

It had been strange, today, speaking to her without any animosity. To have some level of peace flow between them. The scent of her flames didn’t even disconcert him anymore.

Not that Rowan had any idea what the girl’s attitude was towards him. Earlier, he hadn’t cared, hadn’t thought of her beyond just an infuriating chore, a punishment he had to endure. But now she was a person, albeit an irritating one. And Rowan couldn’t help wondering what she thought.

He knew she didn’t understand the significance of biting in Fae culture, and at the time he hadn’t found it within himself to fully explain it to her. He wasn’t sure he had it in him to explain even now. He told himself it was nothing – she’d provoked him one to many times, he’d lost control of himself, and that was that.

Even so, the girl was an enigma. So much so that he couldn’t stop thinking about her – no matter how much he wanted to. She was a frustrating puzzle, one he couldn’t put down until it was solved.

He hadn’t considered it much before, but he’d never been able to speak with anyone in such a way either. It was almost like he could read the girl’s thoughts in her eyes. No matter how confusing she was, that part of her was simple. Easy. And Rowan trusted it implicitly – knew that he wasn’t seeing things, or misreading her.

It was strange, to have such a connection with the princess, when everything else was so confusing. Very strange.

Rowan turned over again, shutting out the faint moonlight and letting his thoughts settle back down into sleep. It was restless though, barely a doze, and permeated through with flickers of flame and blood and darkness.

···

Around mid-morning, Malakai interrupted Rowan’s usual pattern by knocking on his door, his face drawn tight with anxiety. Rowan just looked at him, waiting for the old male to speak.

“Prince.” Malakai swallowed. “I’ve just received notice that another body has been found.” Rowan’s jaw tightened, that familiar fury writhing in his gut.

“It wasn’t from the long-range scouts either. The report came from Bas, who just completed a foray into the west. His task was to make a circuit of the western flank, cutting a line through the southwest, along the coast, and then back up along the northern diagonal.”

Malakai paused momentarily, clenching his teeth at the words he had to deliver. “But then on his way back, he found the body of a demi-Fae female, half submerged in a stream on the edge of the pine forest, barely three miles from the sea.”

“Any discrepancies?”

“None that Bas could convey – but he hasn’t seen any of the other bodies in person, only heard tell of them from me or the other scouts. So it’s possible he didn’t know what to look for.”

Rowan grunted. “Has the body been identified?”

“No and once again, she hadn’t been reported missing. We have no idea who she was, where she came from, or why she was killed.” Malakai paused, then asked hesitantly, “Are you going to go view the site?”

Rowan nodded gruffly, his lips pursed, most of his attention focused inwards. Malakai inclined his head in return and left without another word, heading back towards the sentry station. Once the male was out of sight, Rowan cursed loudly.

A familiar guilt and shame had now joined the anger roiling in his stomach. He wasn't protecting the demi-Fae, wasn't preventing these deaths. He was failing, he would keep failing until he could solve this problem, could figure out whatever the hell he was missing…

He turned back to sit at the desk, grabbing a map of the western flank of the fortress. He knew the circuits made by the sentries, and could find the approximate location of the body without the Malakai’s help. He would wait until he visited the site before marking the exact location on the map however.

Rowan noted the date and time, then cursed violently again. It was too late for him to go visit the body before he had to collect the girl. He could either cancel training for the day, go that evening after leaving the girl alone for the night, or…he could take her with him. The site was just close enough for them to walk.

And, she had lived and worked in the assassin’s keep, among murderers and thieves. Been trained as a killer herself. While it irked him to resort to asking the girl for help, she wasn’t unintelligent. Perhaps she would have some useful insight. And it would give him a break from the endless sitting, the insufferable waiting for the shift that seemed like it would never come. Give them both a chance to do something actually productive with their afternoon.

Half an hour later, Rowan stood outside the kitchens, shifting his weight in irritation. She was late. He sighed, then moved to collect her from her rooms.

The girl’s door was open, and inside she was shrugging on her jacket and hastily pulling her golden hair into a loose braid. It was brighter, much shinier than when she’d first arrived at Mistward. Healthier. Probably from the consistent access to food and bathwater.

Rowan leaned against the doorframe. “You’re already late.”

She turned to face him, “There were extra dishes this morning,” she replied calmly, not reacting to the frustration in his voice. “Can I expect to do something useful with you today, or will it be more sitting and growling and glaring? Or will I just wind up chopping wood for hours on end?”

Rowan just turned and strode into the hall, the girl’s taunts unable to ruffle him. She followed soon after, her steps light and spirited, her fingers still tangling in the unfinished braid at her shoulder.

As they headed out of the fortress, her scent wafted over him as usual. But something about it seemed slightly different today, almost…cleaner. The lemon verbena was stronger, sharper, while the jasmine was more herbal. More like a salve, or a tea. Perfectly bittersweet. Also it was easier to smell Terrasen on her, easier to scent those tiny hints of biting wind, evergreen, and ice – of her throne.

The hostile scent she’d put out was gone, had ebbed away. Something had evidently shifted in the girl, an edge had been soothed.

And it showed in other ways, too: as they walked past a few off-duty sentries on their way out of the fortress, she looked them in the eye and smiled a greeting. They both flinched slightly in surprise, blinking, their nostrils flaring as they also took in the change.

Both males returned her grin, and they hesitated on the stairs beside them. Rowan had to lock his teeth together to prevent a growl. What was wrong with him today?

She just kept following him across the courtyard and past the front gates, without acknowledging the warm greeting given by the two males. However, her brow furrowed and her newly clean scent was polluted by the stink of confusion and irritation. Obviously, she didn’t understand the sudden change in behavior.

The smell of her whirling emotions only intensified as they walked, heading south and up into the mountains. So eventually Rowan said, “They’ve all been keeping their distance because of the scent you put out.”

“Excuse me?” She was practically indignant. Rowan was almost amused. The assassin really knew so little about the ways of the Fae.

“There are more males than females here – and they’re fairly isolated from the world. Haven’t you wondered why they haven’t approached you?”

“They stayed away because I…smell?” Her face burned a dull rose. Rowan suppressed a flicker of a grin.

“Your scent says that you don’t want to be approached. The males smell it more than the females, and have been staying the hell away. They don’t want their faces clawed off.”

Her mouth opened slightly, her eyes widening. It seemed she didn’t know how to react to that. Eventually, she said, “Good. I’m not interested in men- males.”

Rowan stared pointedly at the amethyst ring resting on one of her fingers. She never took it off - obviously, whoever had given the trinket to her mattered. She cared about him, longed for him. Unless he had misread the taste of the man in her blood.

So he couldn’t help but ask, “What happens if you become queen? Will you refuse a potential alliance through marriage?”

Her lips pursed, her breath huffing out. But Rowan didn’t think she was reacting to his dig at her lover – instead she seemed sensitive to his reference to her throne. To the idea of becoming queen. Aelin Galathynius still rejected the truth of her own identity.

She turned inwards, then shook herself back to reality. She almost rolled her eyes. Instead of taking his question honestly, the girl decided to treat it as a taunt, and responded only with, “Nice try.”

He smirked, letting the mood lighten. “You’re learning.”

“You get baited by me every now and then, too, you know.”

Rowan just looked at her slyly. I let you bait me, in case you haven’t noticed. I’m not some mortal fool.

There was a moment of silence, then, “Where the hell are we going today? We never head west.”

The grin vanished from his face, her words a stark reminder of what was awaiting them. “You want to do something useful. So here’s your chance.”

···

It wasn’t until after three in the afternoon that they finally reached the edge of the pine wood, the girl’s mortal pace slowing them to a crawl. He’d almost been ready to tear out his own hair.

As they grew closer, Rowan carefully tracked their path through the trees, marking every stone, stump, and fallen log. He could hear the crash of the sea against the surf and the cries of gulls overhead, while the scent of brine and fish wafted towards them from the west. Behind him, the girl’s booted feet crunched into the pine needles carpeting the forest floor. The wind began to whisper to him of trickling water, the pattering feet of small creatures, the scent of death and –

The dark shape of a body sending ripples in the stream ahead.

It was the same as all the others. The body of a demi-Fae female lay wedged between the rocks of a slow-moving creek, the running water not yet rotted her. The body was a dried husk, withered and desiccated and shrunken, protected from the force of the moving water.

The assassin swore violently, her scent flaring with fury and horror.

Even though Rowan had known what to expect, his reaction was much the same as the girl’s. Particularly as the foul stench began to bore into him, filling up his mouth and nose with its putrid, nauseating reek. It almost felt like it was pitting holes in his throat, like he was breathing acid.

The assassin moved closer, examining the body and the surrounding earth. The ground had been churned up, the brush broken and trampled. There were no wounds on the female, save for those trickles of dried blood from her mouth and ears. And just like the others, the demi-Fae’s face was twisted, contorted by terror and sorrow alike.

“What did this?” the girl asked, her voice soft and open with shock. Rowan knelt beside her, examining the remains more closely while the assassin turned to study the surrounding brush. “Why not just dump her in the sea? Leaving her in a stream seems idiotic. They left tracks, too – unless those are from whoever found her.”

“Malakai gave me the report this morning – and he and his men are trained not to leave tracks.” He strode into the water, continuing his examination. “But this scent…I’ll admit it’s different.”

Rowan’s jaw clenched tight. He could only barely contain his fury at the destroyed body. He didn’t want the girl’s questions, he wanted her experience. His eyes flashed to hers. “So you tell me, assassin. You wanted to be useful.”

She bristled slightly at his tone, but then sniffed. And winced violently. He honestly didn’t blame her. “You claimed you didn’t know what that thing in the barrow field was,” she responded through bated breath, “I think this is what it does.”

So the girl had made the connection as well, and with mortal senses to boot. Rowan inhaled deeply again, bracing his hands on his hips to drive away the nausea. He couldn’t ignore it any more – it was the dark creature from the barrow fields that was committing these killings. When they’d chanced upon it, all those weeks ago, the girl had only barely escaped with her life.

Rowan’s eyes scanned over her, remembering how she had looked after appearing from the black cloud. “You came out of that darkness looking as if someone had sucked the life from you. Your skin was a shade paler, your freckles gone.”

She hesitated, pursing her lips, then said, “It forced me to go through … memories. The worst kind.” Her eyes roved over the female’s terrified features. “Have you ever heard of a creature that can feed on such things? When I glimpsed it, I saw a man – a beautiful man, pale and dark-haired, with eyes of full black. He wasn’t human. I mean, he looked it, but his eyes – they weren’t human at all.”

Rowan grimaced at his own ignorance. “Even my queen doesn’t know every foul creature roaming these lands. If the skinwalkers are venturing down from the mountains, perhaps other things are, too.”

The girl turned towards the south, where they’d heard bells chiming only a few minute ago. “The townspeople might know something. Maybe they’ve seen it or heard rumors.”

He shook his head roughly, “We don’t have the time; you wasted daylight by coming here in your human form.” He couldn’t hide the frustration in his words. Perhaps foolishly, he’d hoped the assassin would’ve proven a greater help. “We have an hour before we head back. Make the most of it.”

They spent the next half hour or so following the faint scent trail left by the female through the underbrush, as there was no trace left of the creature. But it only led to the edge of the cliff overlooking the sea, with no easy path to the beach below nor any sign of recent habitation nearby. Perhaps the demi-Fae female could shift, and had appeared there. Either that or she had dropped from the sky.

Rowan stared out at the ocean, arms crossed, fury pulsing through him with each beat of his heart. “It doesn’t make sense,” he said, more to himself than to her. “This is the fourth body in the last few weeks – none of them reported missing.” He squatted on the sandy ground and drew a rough line in the dirt with a tattooed finger. The shape of Wendlyn’s coastline.

“They’ve been found here.” He marked each location of the body sites from as small dots in the dirt, all close to the coast. “We’re here,” he said, making another dot. He sat back on his heels as the assassin leaned over to peer at the crude map. “And yet you and I encountered the creature lurking amongst the barrow-wights here,” he added, and drew an X to mark the location of the barrow mounds, deep inland. “I haven’t seen any further signs of it remaining by the barrows, and the wights have returned to their usual habits.”

“Were the other bodies the same?”

“All were drained like this, with expressions of terror on their faces – not a hint of a wound, beyond dried blood at the nose and ears.”

“All dumped in the forest, not the sea?”

He nodded.

“But all within walking distance of the water.”

He nodded again.

“If it were a skilled, sentient killer, it would hide the bodies better. Or, again, use the sea.” She gazed off towards the ocean, the sun beginning to descend over the waves. “Or maybe it doesn’t care. Maybe it wants us to know what it’s doing. There were – there were times when I left bodies so that they’d be found by a certain person, or to send a type of message.” Her voice was tight and hesitant, restraining some deep emotion. “What do the victims have in common?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “We don’t even know their names or where they came from.” He rose and dusted his hands off. “We need to return to the fortress.”

She grabbed his elbow, and he had to restrain himself from swatting her hand away. “Wait. Have you seen enough of the body?”

He nodded slowly.

“Then we’ve got to bury her.”

He cocked his head. “The ground’s too hard here.”

She stalked out towards the forest, saying, “Then we’ll do it the ancient way.”

He followed her reluctantly, but within a few minutes they returned to the section of the stream where the demi-Fae female lay, slowly rotting under the pressure of the running water. The assassin heaved the body out from between the rocks and onto the dry bed of pine needles next to the crumpled undergrowth. Then she turned, collecting kindling and branches and pine needles and dumping them next to the body.

Though anger filled her scent, sharpening every line of her hard form, the girl knelt carefully beside the body, gently placing the gathered wood. Assembling a funeral pyre for the unknown female.

Rowan just watched, not saying anything at all as the Heir of Fire struggled to create a flame by hand, those iron bars within her never seeming colder, or more like a cage, than they did in that moment.

After a few strokes of her rudimentary flint, the pine needles began to smoke, and the branches caught, the flames leaping across the pyre to cradle the form of the dead female, a final embrace.

Aelin rose and moved away from the burning body, while Rowan stepped forwards to stand beside her. He called a wind towards them, feeding the slowly dancing flames with his power.

Aelin’s eyes were dark and hooded, her mouth set in a hard line. But she looked at the steadily burning body as if it held answers for her, as if it held punishment, or absolution. That, at least, Rowan understood. The grief, and the guilt that never went away, was always there, hidden just beneath. The assassin looked at the body as if it offered her the atonement she surely sought.

The two of them stood, the warrior and the assassin, holding a vigil for the dead demi-Fae until her body was nothing but ashes. The silence between them was heavy with fury and sorrow, but for the first time, those emotions were not directed at each other. Instead, the pair of them burned together, their shared anger itself a way to pay respect to the dead female.

A silent promise – your death will not be in vain. We will witness, and take your revenge. We will ensure that no others share your fate.

Rowan felt that promise echo in his bones as he lifted the ashes of the dead female on a swift wind, carrying them up and away, over the trees and towards the sea beyond.

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