#But I think it’s fun to look at to. To see a Kestrel who didn’t keep her stubborn ways till her death

[mythos321]

The Fourth of my WoF x Persona AU Profiles, this one being just a confidant as opposed to a Phantom Thief(also with a different arcana compared to the character they’re crossed with)

Kestrel: The Hanged Dragon

Arcana: Hanged Man

Birthdate: April 7th, 4981 AS

Backstory:Kestrels backstory starts similar to how it does in the main universe, with her losing both her children at The Diamond Spray river, one to Queen Scarlet, and the other to the river. However, due to the lack of The Talons of Peace, Kestrel instead kept up her search for her son, searching high and low for him almost like a madwoman. She nearly did find her son many times, but each time he disappeared from her sights, and she had no idea what to do, however, she had determined the general area where he stayed, and set up a cavern for herself for the time.

However, the day she finally found her son, she realized he was completely terrified of her, he hadn’t been disappearing from her for no reason…he thought she was trying to kill him. This shook Kestrel to her core, and though she tried to speak with her son, a small scavenger seemed to attempt to ward her off, and Kestrel, in so much shock, willingly fled, however always keeping close to her son as she slowly tried to make him trust her, with very minimal progress in such.

Kestrel felt lost, broken, and ashamed, passing her time by turning her cavern into a sort of cafe/bar she(uncreatively) named Cavern Tavern, serving multiple assortments of dishes, mainky coffee and curry. During this time she met a Mudwing named Asha who was the closest she had to an acquaintance, and one day learned from her about her nephew Clay, who by Ashas accord was being sent on probation due to being framed for attacking an unknown Skywing official.

Kestrel put together from the Skywings behavior they must have been Queen Scarlet, and with this knowledge, volunteered to let Clay stay with her as his guardian, and until his probations up, he shall be taken under her wings(hehe).

Physical Description: Kestrel is overall the same in her appearance, with a minor change in having a small scar on her paw after it was stabbed by a certain scavenger that was with her son. The biggest difference in appearance is actually Kestrels demeanor, having a much calmer abd more approachable face.

Personality:Although she used to be very similar to her main version, Kestrel is much less aggressive now after what happened between her and her son, with her having had the subconscious realization her actions and way of life made her own child afraid of her. She however is still very strict and cold, if only initially when Clay first meets her. Some also claim she has a smooth charm to her, though Kestrel herself admits she lost a lot of over the years.

Goals:To try and make amends with her son, and hopefully find her daughter one day.

Trivia

-Unlike her main counterpart, Kestrel would never even dream of harming the other dragonets, much less Clay

-Kestrels immediate assumption whenever Clay brings a dragon around his age to her cafe is that they’re his girlfriend/boyfriend, and she often snarks he’s surprisingly uneventful in that regard considering all the other hijinks he tells her about(or what she secretly reads from his journal and letters when he isn’t looking)

-Kestrel has a medical condition that gives her a forked tongue, she thinks it’s weird but does admit it makes for the occasional fun party trick

-Kestrel is a master of curry, her best ones being Beef Curry and(after lots of practice) Vegetable curry, the latter which she mainly makes for Sky

-Kestrel thinks those who do nothing about themself and use the excuse that that is the way life made them are losers who should get thrown off a cliff, she’d know, she used to think that way

[frozenjokes]

Signing Back In, Apparently- 6

Prev/Next

*suggestive*

Everything was fine, fun even, until Oli started talking. Mumbo had settled behind Scar, content to watch everyone else distracting and making fun of him. It was surreal after all, for the Kestrels to be holding an event like this. To try and get Scar to admit his ghosts were real. They had no idea. Well, everyone but Oli at least. Apparently, Oli had quite a detailed idea.

“Now I know you tell me whenever you see me to mind the noise, or don’t think too hard about, or whatever, but gosh Scar, you are so loud in that room of yours! And I get it, everyone talks to themself from time to time, so I wouldn’t have said anything if I hadn’t heard who you were talking to! I mean, you even call them by names! The night you had your, for lack of a better word, seizure, you were talking to a Grian! And then there was another night where you were talking to someone else! I heard his voice!”

“Oli,” Scar spoke through gritted teeth, words almost like a growl, “Oli, shut up.” Mumbo tensed, backing away. Grian stopped what he was doing immediately, straightening up in alarm. Impulse raised his head in a confused gesture, but Pearl didn’t seem to notice.

“I thought you just had another pirate over for the night, you know, but I didn’t recognize his-”

Pearl sat up immediately, noticing Mumbo’s and Grian’s mortified looks for the first time, “Another.. What’s he talking about? Grian?”

Scar leapt from his chair, passing directly through Pearl to grab Oli by the wrist, “I told you to-” Pearl yelped in surprise, floating up to avoid the fray. But no one answered her.

“Guys? Who else was talking with Scar?” she asked again, her tone gaining a sharper edge, “Was this with the ouija board?” Pearl’s gaze turned to Mumbo. He nearly tripped over himself trying to avoid her eyes. “Mumbo? Why didn’t you say anything?” A look of hurt flashed across her face, and Mumbo heard Scar gasp as Martyn pulled him off Oli.

Grian floated between them, trying to block Pearl’s view from Mumbo, “He told me. Don’t get angry, it’s more complicated than I can explain quickly right now. Impulse doesn’t know either.”

“Well- okay-” Pearl looked very much like she was struggling with this idea, “But if Mumbo used the ouija board with Scar.. I.. What did Oli mean by ‘had someone over for the night,’ did something happen? Mumbo, did you get a chance to attack or fight or- I don’t understand.”

“Well he did almost kill Scar!”

“No! Nothing happened!” Grian and Mumbo spoke at the same time, giving each other startled looks.

“Guys!” Pearl’s voice raised an octave, looking between them rapidly.

“Pearl, it’s okay, just give them a chance,” Impulse drifted behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder. But it was clear he was also quite confused.

“I think I’m just going to excuse myself here,” Mumbo waved a hand and turned away.

“Okay, so, you guys know dementors right? From Harry Potter? Like how when they kiss you, you d-” Grian tried his best, but he did not get to finish.

“WHAT?” At the same time Pearl yelled, Scar cried out in pain, clutching his stomach. He started to say something else, but none of the ghosts were listening. The cracks in Mumbo’s own form were starting to splinter. “Mumbo! I’m going to need an explanation please!”

“He didn’t intend to kiss Scar-”

“Grian! Stop trying to protect him.”

“Well stop attacking! I told you it was complicated!”

“Pearl, you need to calm down. We are going to figure this out,” Impulse strode past her, standing beside Grian, but she pushed through both of them, making a beeline straight for Mumbo.

“I want to hear it from you,” she said, voice terrifyingly even. There was no escape. Backed into a corner, his fear shifted into hot anger.

“ Fine,” Mumbo spat, “I got Scar to use the ouija board with me. I had questions. I still have them. It didn’t work the way we expected it to, and we kissed. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Mumbo- that's not-” Grian tried to cut in, but neither of them were listening now.

“Why? ” Pearl hissed, eyes wide and shocked.

“I don’t know! Maybe I just wanted to! Sit on that! You’re so obsessed with hurting him, you haven’t even considered that not all of us care! I’m not interested in sitting around and being miserable, just to try and make Scar feel the same way.”

“What do you mean you don’t care? Scar murdered us with a goddamn smile on his face! He’s still hurting us. Since when do you care more about Scar’s wellbeing than ours?”

“I didn’t say that! I don’t care about him any more than you do. Maybe I just want to know why he did what he did- Grian cares about that too! Is that a crime? And you know what, maybe I’m just trying to find out. Or maybe I’m just being selfish! God fucking forbid I do something for myself.”

“Grian didn’t kiss Scar. Grian is still fighting him, just like the rest of us! Have you already forgotten what Scar did to him just a couple days ago?”

“Guys, please don’t-” Grian tried to get between them, followed closely by Impulse. But the words were already on Mumbo’s tongue.

“Well, maybe , Grian provoked Scar first.” The regret hit Mumbo instantly, making him stumble back. Grian’s eyes burned through his, shocked and hurt, but before he could open his mouth to apologize, Pearl was on him.

“How dare you ,” she snarled, closing the distance, “No wonder you abandoned ship to see Scar when Grian needed us. All of us. ‘Finding out what happened’ right? What, was that just a prime opportunity to make out with Scar while we were all distracted?”

“That is not what happened-”

“I don’t believe you!”

“Pearl! Mumbo! Stop it. Both of you. Look what’s happening to your bodies- we don’t want a repeat of this,” Impulse shoved himself between them, pushing them apart with his hands. The sudden separation shocked Mumbo into listening. He looked at his hands. It wasn’t just the cracks splintering apart his form; the lines that separated his body from the air shifted too. He looked up to see Pearl, whose own body was fluctuating and unstable. She met his eyes.

“Get out of here.”

Mumbo didn’t have to be told twice. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Grian, so he looked at the rest of the dining hall as he left. It was empty. Mumbo closed his eyes. Well, there was one person who could tell him what he missed. At this point, he had nothing left to lose.

On his way to Scar’s room, he ran into the Kestrels in the tavern. Well, the Kestrels and Scott. Based on the way they were speaking in whispers, he had a feeling Scar was upstairs. He lingered just long enough to hear them speaking about ghosts, and more specifically, how to get rid of them. Mumbo wasn’t keen to stick around.

Scar wasn’t doing well. Mumbo heard his strangled whines from outside, which Scar was usually relatively good at hiding. Inside, he was laying face down on top of his sheets with his shirt off, retching into his pillow. Christ. Surely even Pearl wouldn’t take joy in watching this.

Scar never looked up, so Mumbo went to him, waving a hand gently in front of his face. It took a couple seconds for Scar to even notice. Scar’s face was red and splotchy, slick with sweat, as was the rest of his body.

“Come on,” Mumbo said, knowing full well Scar wouldn’t hear him, but he got the message loud and clear when Mumbo pointed across the room. With uncoordinated limbs, Scar pulled himself out of bed and to the floor, where the ouija board still lay. Mumbo sat across from him. They didn’t speak as Mumbo laid his hands across Scar’s, the only sound being Scar’s shaky sigh of relief. Mumbo let Scar’s warmth wash over him.

“You know, Impulse doesn’t usually get this upset. Never had it that bad before,” Scar drew a hand to his throat before quickly putting it back on the planchette, “Well, besides that, would you believe me if I told you it wasn’t that bad?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

Scar laughed, falling forward into Mumbo’s shoulder. His brain short circuited a bit, but he decided not to think too hard about it. The warmth was all that mattered.

“You’re fuckin bony. Did you know that?”

“You’re sweaty and gross. Did you know that?”

“Don’t be mean.”

Mumbo laughed, not that Scar heard, but he would feel the soft bounce of his shoulders. It was all too nice. A wave of bitterness coursed through him, that Scar would never have allowed himself something like this when the crew of The Flying Jellie lived. They could have had this. No complications. Mumbo squeezed Scar’s hand to get his attention.

“Mmm?” Apparently, that counted as a question.

“I need something from you, if you’re not too tired.”

“Right now, I’d do anything you ask. Whatcha need?”

“A distraction. A kiss. Anything to forget about today for a while.”

“Why, Mumbo Jumbo, I would be delighted to indulge you,” Scar smiled into his shoulder, moving ever so slightly to his neck. Mumbo tilted his head, closing his eyes. It felt so good to breathe. For it to hurt when Scar nipped at his skin, then kiss it all better. To not think for a while.

Scar moved a hand to the back of Mumbo’s head, brushing his hair with delicate fingers. It was so amusing for Scar, being who he was, to be so gentle. Mumbo ran a curious hand down Scar’s chest, absently considering his many scars and curves. He wondered about his own marks scattered along Scar’s back, moving to trace the rougher patches of skin with grim satisfaction.

“You really made a mess of me back there,” Scar mumbled, turning his gaze to Mumbo’s lips.

“Good.” Scar didn’t hear him, but he understood, responding with a grin. God, Mumbo hated that smile. He grabbed at the side of Scar’s face, pulling him up into a kiss. A rush of anger fueled his passion, a messy impulse to never see that grin again. He clawed at Scar’s cheek and grabbed at his hair; anything he could think that might wipe it away, but the telling curve of Scar’s lips never faded. Honestly, it was starting to make him more difficult to kiss.

“Didn’t take you as the aggressive type! Bad day?” Scar snickered on Mumbo’s lips as he took a moment to breathe.

“Shut up.”

“What did I do to piss you off so bad-” Scar yelped as Mumbo tugged on his hair, catching himself with an arm. Mumbo took the opportunity to push him back further, climbing on top.

“You’re going to have to move the board, Scar.”

“Gladly.”

[flowers-for-the-grave]

Secret Santa

This was really fun to write, and was also my first time doing something like this, so for my first ever thing like this, I'm pretty happy with it. I hope my person likes this a lot :)

@writeblrcafe hosted the event

This is my gift for @kittrrrr - hope you enjoy!

A Recurring Face

Word count: 979

At first his name had been Kestrel. He’d liked it; for what reason, he couldn’t quite say, but when he first heard the word he knew he loved it. Later on, he found out that a Kestrel was a bird, but he didn’t mind it too much. They were lovely birds.

Over time that name had to change. It was only natural. As humans developed, so did their languages and the names they went by. His name would be seen as unusual or strange, and thus it had to change to something else. In his heart, though, he was always Kestrel. No matter what name he took, he was always just Kestrel.

Humans had nice literature, Kestrel decided.

They were amazing; artfully woven words into strings of sentences. Each word was carefully selected to have an intended effect. They could make him laugh or - on rare, memorable occasions - make him cry.

Some of his favourites belonged to the Greeks.

Kestrel walked through the town, his eyes wandering across the shops and men walking around him. The sun was high in the sky, its golden rays beating down on him pleasantly, if a little too hard at some points in the day. There were no clouds that would drift by. The fact made him frown a little, but he recovered soon afterwards when his attention was captured by a man arguing with a vendor.

The man was not dressed like the other men and women roving around. He wore a white button-up shirt underneath a leather waistcoat, accompanied by pinstripe grey slacks and shiny shoes. His hair was a ruddy red and his eyes bright green, like moss in a forest. The man was trying to bring down the price of an urn, to which the vendor was trying to maintain his composure whilst explaining to the man that “This urn is incredibly valuable, it cannot be sold for such a price.”

Smiling, he approached the two men slowly. His arrival caught the attention of the vendor.

“I can pay for it,” he said. Kestrel took out some drachma and handed them to the vendor, taking a glance at the strangely-dressed man beside him. “Is it enough?”

The vendor’s eyes bugged out of his head. “This is too much.”

“Consider it a bonus, for putting up with my friend’s antics.” Kestrel turned to the man with a smile, hoping he would play along. “Come, let’s go back home.”

He placed his hand against the man’s back, but not before taking the urn and handing it to him. Kestrel escorted the man away from the shops and people and down a more private road.

He stopped when they were far enough from other people that no one would overhear.

The man looked at him curiously, his gloved hands shaking a little as he held the urn. He rotated it, tilted it, looked at it from every angle imaginable, then began to smile brightly. “Thank you,” he said, “I do not think I would have made it out of that unscathed.”

Kestrel laughed. “I’m sure you would’ve managed it.”

“I’m Thomas,” the man - Thomas - held out his hand. “And who are you, good sir?”

“Kestrel.” he answered, shaking Thomas’s hand with vigour.

---

His love for Greek literature was threatened by the appearance of Shakespeare. He couldn’t help but adore the man’s craft; his way with writing and creating likeable and repulsive characters; his amazing skill for both comedy and tragedy; the way he had risen to fame and even earned the favour of the queen herself.

He had arranged tickets to see one of his favourite plays and took his seat. It was a more private area, since he found that sitting with other people was quite tedious, at times, and that  plays were far more enjoyable with less clamour.

A man walked in. “My apologies, sir, but there aren’t many more seats available. Would you mind sharing with another?”

Kestrel nodded. “I see nothing wrong with that. Tell the fellow that he is welcome here with me.”

Bowing his head in response, the man scurried away, then returned with—

Oh.

The man disappeared, and Kestrel was suddenly alone with Thomas. He hadn’t aged a day; no wrinkles, no crow’s feet around his eyes, nothing. He was just as youthful as the day Kestrel first met him.

Which couldn’t be possible, since it had been several centuries since their last encounter. Unless Thomas was also…?

“I recognise you,” Thomas said, breathlessly. “You— you’re that man. From Ancient Greece.”

“How are you still alive?” he blurted out.

Thomas’s brows furrowed in thought. His eyes took in Kestrel’s clothing, his hair - which he had to cut short, sadly - and his face, lingering a bit too long on certain features.

Kestrel felt his cheeks colour, and looked down at his lap. He nervously fidgeted with his hands. “Why don’t we enjoy the play?” he suggested. “Then we can talk afterwards. Perhaps go for a nightcap.”

Hesitant, Thomas sat down beside him. Their shoulders brushed against each other for a brief moment.

“I think I would enjoy that very much, indeed.”

He wanted to never see Thomas go. He wanted to learn everything he could about the man who had disappeared for centuries and then came back.

He wasn’t alone anymore.

It took a short while for that to sink in. He wasn’t alone anymore. Kestrel didn’t know what to do. He could sing, he could cry, he could dance for hours on end and never stop!

“Are you alright?” Thomas asked, a nervous smile on his face.

Kestrel beamed back at him with an expression akin to a child on Christmas day. “Yes. More than alright, in fact.”

Their attention was snatched by the commencing play as the actors rushed onto the stage.

He was not alone anymore. Maybe things would be different this time.

[trelltrain]

i’ve seen a few people doing my pirates life or death predictions and i thought it would be fun to explain them more here!! (but now i’ve decided to switch a few things)

DIES

Aimsey : already dead

Guqqie : already dead

Watermunch: a kestrel and kite have already died so i have a feeling a heron is next… idk why i think it’ll be water but i just can’t really see any of the other herons dying super early

Reddoons: too much alcohol

Tubbo: another kite… i have a feeling he’ll get shot in the back again and it’ll be a lot worse than him losing a hat

Graecie: the first nightingale to fall! i feel like she would die trying to save somebody, maybe from the corruption or one of the terrible beasts

Ros: yet another nightingale! graecies death was the beginning of the end, the nightingales are in shambles and something goes very wrong and Ros loses her life because of it.

Bek: another kite.. i forgot how little hope i had in these guys…. he probably attacks somebody to try level out the groups but it backfires and the kites go down yet again

Oli: a mishap with the crab wife….

Krow: holy shit another kite my god… the other factions by now have probably seen the gaps in the kites and seeing as how none of them like them, they’re gonna try remove kites from the picture, sorry krow…

Michela: (first difference from my original post!) since she wasn’t there on the first day, she get curious and goes back to the island that aimsey went missing at and doesn’t come back

Olive: cruppy

Martyn: i have TWO predictions for this man, either scott gets revenge for limited life and murders him in cold blood, OR he finds his loot shard, fakes his death, and gets the hell out of there

Kyle: downfall of the kestrels! the richest man is gone! i actually have no ideas on how he’ll die i just know he will

Scott: as much as a hate to admit it, his ass is NOT surviving… most likely trying to save kyle (which doesn’t work) or trying to save acho, or if he really wants to ruin our day he’ll probably have an insignificant death, leaving him with no legacy and making him fail as a heron.

LIVES

Owen: Seems good at survival i reckon she could cheek his way out of trouble

Apo: one of the two who didn’t succumb to the madness of the fall of the nightingales…

Acho: lives, but has to deal with the loss of scott, the only family member who he cared for

Sausage: probably hides with alison the whole time like a wuss

Scar: should have died but is saved by the hero Captain Jellie!

Puffy: look… at least one kite had to live… and it’s most likely puffy, she’s BEEN on the ocean (and she’s got her own song about it too)

Eloise: the cardboard box saves her from a life ending blow

Cleo: after scott dies they do everything in their power to live for the both of them

ORIGINAL LIST!:

[sporadically-writing]

Critical Role OCs

Back on my critical role obsession at the moment. 

As a fun character creation exercise, and to stop myself from creating more DND characters then I already have (I have like two for each class and there is absolutely no way I will ever be able to play them all) I like to craft characters for each campaign and sort of put them in the world. Exandria is such a wild and rich world that Matt has created and I like to enjoy and research it this way while also doing some character and writing practice. And I thought I might tell you about them!

The Legend of Vox Machina/Vox Machina

I had not reached the Briarwood Arc in my watch of Vox Machina prior to the series coming out so I did not know all of the details. I watched the Mighty Nein first so the only thing I really knew about Whitestone was the basics of Percy’s backstory. I knew the name Anna Ripley but nothing really about her. I honestly thought, given that Delilah is a witch and Sylas is a vampire, that Ripley might have been a werewolf or something but I was wrong. I thought Whitestone was missing a werewolf so I made one.

Alexandria Briarwood is the daughter of the fabled Briarwoods. She has been turned into a werewolf against her will thanks to her disobedience to her parents following their arrival at Whitestone (and the horrors that followed). Alexandria is a young woman with a strong sense of morals at least when natural laws are concerned. She grieved her father when the time came sure, but what her mother did was wrong. She broke the laws of nature and Alexandria didn’t like it. Not to mention what her parents did when they arrived in Whitestone. She cannot hide her feelings from her parents after that and as punishment, Ripley is employed and Alexandria is infected with Lycanthropy.

One night after that, Alexandria escapes the palace, desperate to leave the city but she stops in the square. She sees the state of the city and the state of the (pre-you know, that) Sun Tree. She sees the leafless tree that was so gorgeous when they arrived and something shifts in her. She can’t leave with good conscious. She knows she needs to do something. Keeper Yennen finds her shortly after and Alexandria is recruited into the resistance. She wears a hood at all times both to hide herself from guards and to keep her identity a secret from those who are not aware of who she is. Not everyone in the resistance needs to know that a Briarwood is among their ranks.

The resistance has the name Kestrel to refer to Cassandra De Rolo, they refer to Alexandria as Heron. Kestrels symbolize nobility and might among other things and herons usually symbolize patience and good luck.

Class wise, Alexandria is a human Order of the Lycan Bloodhunter, possibly with a Path of the Beast Barbarian multiclass

The Mighty Nein

If there were another member of the Mighty Nein from the very beginning, I wanted it to be another member of the Fletching and Moondrop circus. I was thinking about classes of the party as well and I thought that Bard would be an interesting fit with this group. However, I did not want it to be a basic, music themed bard. This idea coupled with all the importance of swords in this campaign, I thought a College of Swords bard would be interesting.

Averie Silvervale, a high elven fencer, performer in the great circus, friend of Yasha Nydoorin and Mollymauk Tealeaf. She is the first daughter of a noble family in Bysaes Tyl who left home when her parents tried to force her into the heir box, living a life on the road in the circus instead.

Crown Keepers

I haven’t quite been able to figure this group out yet.

Bell’s Hells

Marquet being such an interesting continent with jungles and deserts I felt a ranger not being in this campaign would be a shame. I also wanted to add to the pair of genasi within the group.

Serafina Petrona is a fire genasi Beast Master Ranger with a little coyote/desert wolf companion named King. She looks partially like an elf, given that her father is one. She travelled the deserts and jungles outside of Jrusar for a time before she took to busking with King in the streets of Jrusar after that.

The Ring of Brass

This group particularly is a little difficult as their story is only one episode in and is so incredibly new but the world is so interesting that I find it very difficult to curb the excitement to create a character within it. 

I thought quite a bit about Deans of Magical Colleges. Only one of them is talked about within the first episode so as of right now I have an idea for another one. Evocation jumped out at me a little bit. I am unsure as of right now how these Deans operate, but I believe they may be in charge of those specific branches within the sorcerers university or some such school. 

I imagine a Dean of Evocation might hold themselves as a more militaristic figure as opposed to some of the other schools of magic and the idea was interesting.

If I were to go this route, I believe that Simona Nesk, Dean of the College of Evocation would be a human Evocation Wizard. She would be a very stern and stalwart person dressed mostly in robust red robes.

I also entertained the idea of the College of Illusion as well. If I were to go this way, Yavia Valcyne, Dean of the College of Illusion would be a fairy Illusion Wizard. Yavia is a respected mage for her mastery of illusory magic but she also is a very carefree soul. This due in part to her fey nature, but mostly due to the fact that she is an artist. She views magic, her magic especially, is an art form and that notion would color much of how she carries herself.

I like both of them quite a bit.

[phoenixyfriend]

Chip Reactivation AU

With help from @atagotiak @thisarenotarealblog and @kestrel-cat

Palpatine leaks info to Dooku about how Anakin used to be a slave, with a general intent of just causing psychological trauma to Skywalker. Dooku passes the job off to Ventress because he's got other things to do, and she takes it Way Too Far.

She hunts down Watto for more information, picks up just the right codes, and mid-battle reactivates Anakin's slave chip.

She taunts him about it. Tells him he has an hour before it goes off. Enjoys the horror as he realizes what she's done, but nobody else has the background info to parse the threat.

"Tick tock, Skywalker."

It's literally the only thing she's here to do, so Anakin is in a position to call off whatever team he has and sprint back to the ship, calling frantically for Kix to get ready to perform a surgery on a time crunch. He can't protect his men if he's dead, after all, and Padme is waiting for him.

Anakin doesn't know where his chip is. There's lots of Dawning Horror among the troopers and Ahsoka. They get the chip out in time, if barely, because the run back ate up over half the time and Kix had maybe twenty minutes to locate and remove the chip.

Various fallout as Anakin has to explain why he had a remote-controlled bomb in him and why he wasn't surprised it was there.

I just think it would be a Fun Way for the situation to come out

Ventress: I have spoken to Watto of Toydaria-

Anakin: WHAT?!?

Ahsoka: Who?

Ventress: And he gave me a very interesting set of codes. You're a bit far out of range, Skywalker, but I got them to work. You have one hour before the trigger hits.

Ahsoka: Master, what the kriff is she talking about?

Ventress: Master is quite the apropos term. Tick-Tock, Skywalker.

Ventress is playing it up but internally she wants to STAB someone, preferably Dooku, because she also used to be a child slave, and this is a very tone-deaf assignment, sir.

Dooku figured that by having Ventress do it, he could kill two birds with one stone. She needs a bit of extra trauma to cling to the dark side! Anger is good for her!

Maybe she tweaked the Codes and stuff to give Anakin more time, and says something cryptic to him about it later.

Ventress: Did you like my gift?

Anakin: If you mean the resurgent trauma, yeah it was great, I loved feeling like a piece of meat again.

[some time later]

Ventress: He took out your chip.

Anakin: Yeah, no thanks to y--

Ventress: Could he do the same to mine?

All jokes aside, Ventress probably doesn't still have the chip in her, maybe never had one in the first place if Rattatak was different enough from Tatooine, but.

Kix: Ok... Miss. We found it and it should be out fairly simply. I understand that you may prefer local anesthesia, but I am compelled by medical professionalism to offer-

Ventress: Oh just get it over with.

Kix: Ma'am I do have a knife.

----

Ventress: Why are you doing this anyway?

Kix: Freedom is the right of all sentient beings.

Ventress: Oh, that's wild coming from you.

Kix: Hey we don't have any... chips... why are you looking at me like that?

Ventress giving him a "oh you sweet summer child" look of pity, just a raised eyebrow of "oh, you actually believe that?"

She's actually very well positioned to have that insider knowledge! It's a great way to slide into a fix-it!

I like the idea of Ventress telling them about the chip, partly as a way to buy favor with them when she defects.

I like the reason she’d defect here is how concerned everyone is for Anakin, y’know? If Obi-Wan is nearby that’d include like, people in a position of power (or maybe even better, another council member being concerned, one that’s not so close) Just like, seeing people being concerned for other people, not for their usefulness y’know?

Like yeah sure they’d try to get the chip out, Anakin is valuable but the way they’d react would go beyond that.

It’d be a hell of a mood whiplash bc in many ways the initial everything about the chip would be extremely validating to her bitterness?

(Callous holier than thou bastards but they don’t even do anything to help one of their own, well if they’re going to leave so nice an opening for me I might as well take it)

And then it's just like, no, Anakin just didn't tell people, figured "it's inactive and that's enough for me" because... IDK he didn't trust anyone to anesthetize him at first and after that it was too late to not be awkward.

Just consider, though, Anakin's thought process as time runs down-- Kix can do it, he can't believe otherwise, he has faith in his men, but- Stay back, Snips! Master, what's going on? Let me help, what can I do? This isn't something you can help with, I need you to stay out of range of the bomb-- BOMB?! No time, where's Kix, we have to move

"I'm not leaving you Skyguy!" "Snips, please, don't come any closer, I can't..."

He's immersed deeply in the Force, listening for the first hint that they've run out of time (because I can't really see them having a perfectly accurate countdown, even if Ventress did give them an accurate timeframe) and preparing to throw everyone around him out of range if he has to (because they won't go willingly if it comes to that...)

It's not even really realistic to worry about the range, necessarily: I was under the impression that it was about a foot of effect, enough to kill if it's in the shoulder or neck or something, but a slow death if it's in the chest, and possible survival if it's in a limb. But that objective knowledge doesn't necessarily help when you're in the thick of things, does it?

[drabbles-of-writing]

Electric Love

This is part of my Wing AU

AO3

Masterpost

Summary: In Amity's defense, Luz would've flown into that thunderstorm if she'd agreed to it or not. The least she could do was be there to make sure nothing bad happened. Though, this was Luz she was talking about. Crazy things would happen with or without supervision.

Dry thunderstorms were nothing new to the Isles. They were among the most common storms, really. If there was lightning, then there was a relatively decent chance there’d be no boiling rain. 

Which also led to a rather popular game among the young and reckless known as Thunderdiving. A sport where one would fly into the center of the thunderstorm and spend however long they deemed necessary dodging and flying through strikes of lightning. Flying through a heavily clouded sky is already dangerous enough, what with the possibility of smacking into whatever else was flying or getting lost and crashing. But to fly among conditions such as that plus lightning? It was practically a death sentence. No wonder teenagers liked daring each other to play it.

Now, Amity had never taken interest in it. Her parents would’ve murdered her if they were to find out she tried to Thunderdive. Didn’t stop the twins, though. Amity can name three separate times the twins came back from a dry thunderstorm, shaken up but still whooping and cheering at having survived it with whatever group of equally idiot teens they went with. Only after the third time, when Emira narrowly avoided getting her wing shot like a lightning rod, did they call it quits.

And Amity was fine never knowing anything else about the sport. Even if her siblings hadn’t come back shaken up, she wouldn’t have had any interest in it. Who, pray tell, would be idiotic enough to know the dangers of Thunderdiving and still want to participate? It was absurd!

Unfortunately for her, Amity had a nasty habit of being surrounded by those kinds of people.

,

A clap of thunder roared through the air, making Amity pause. She leaned up from her bed, peering out her window. Sure enough, the ominous clouds from earlier had descended upon Bonesborough in no time. There didn’t appear to be any rain, so Amity simply shrugged and sat back in her bed, continuing with reading the Azura book that Luz had gifted her. She finished it long ago, but rereading it wouldn’t hurt.

And that would’ve been her whole day; reading as the dry thunderstorm passed overhead, with nothing but the occasional lightning out her window to distract her.

If it hadn’t been for her crystal ball to begin ringing.

Amity’s wings twitched at her sides and she sighed. She cast a glance to her bedside table, expecting someone like Boscha. It’d be on-brand for her to call in the middle of a storm when bored.

Instead, she saw the name Luz spread across the crystal ball.

Amity jerked up, wings snapping to her sides as she completely ditched her book in favor of wildly reaching for the crystal ball. She nearly knocked it off her table in her haste, but managed to secure a good hold on it before yanking it back towards her. 

She takes a moment to pause and take in a deep breath, checking her reflection in the crystal ball. She ran a hand through her hair, making sure none of it was sticking up. She hoped her wings were neat enough that, should they be seen through the clear ball, she wouldn’t look as much of a mess as she felt.

With that, and a slow inhale, Amity accepted the call.

“Hi, Amity!” Luz beamed, her face quickly overtaking the ball. She continued speaking before Amity could even think of responding. “So, out of curiosity, did the twins happen to mention anything important to you about dry thunderstorms?”

That caught Amity’s attention. Luz was known for odd questions here and there, but typically not so specific. The mention of the twins immediately put the kestrel on edge.

“Luz,” Amity said, a warning laced into her tone. “What are you doing?”

“Me? Nothing! I’m--I’m not doing anything.” Luz stuttered, her eyes darting everywhere but at Amity. “Just thought that, y’know, since we have a thunderstorm with no rain going on, might as well check to make sure there’s no like, secret about these things that could mangle me.”

“And why would the twins know this?” Amity asked patiently, despite all her internal alarms going off.

“Well, I sorta,” Luz’s hand came into frame, scratching at the back of her neck. Amity could see the faint outline of her wings twitching behind her. “I heard that they, uh, had experience with dry thunderstorms.”

“Only really with--” Amity paused, trailing off as the piece clicked in her mind. “Thunderdiving,” She said blankly. “You mean with Thunderdiving.”

“Oh, is that what they did?” Luz asked in a far-too innocent voice. “Had no idea.”

“Luz,” Amity growled, her ears flicking back as her eyes narrowed. “What,” She repeated, with an edge to her tone. “Are you doing?”

Luz stared back at her, eyes wide and guilty. She could see her wings hunch up to her shoulders, like she could shield herself subtly and avoid getting called out. She mumbled something under her breath.

“Luz,”

“It sounded fun--”

“Oh for the Titan’s sake.” Amity groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “I’m coming over, don’t you even think about flying in this.”

“Maybe I’ll be in the air by the time you get here,” Luz snorted. “Unless, of course, you flew here…” Luz trailed off, her voice taking on a hopeful tone. “But then that would make you a hypocrite, wouldn’t it?” She added teasingly.

“You know, I’m starting to regret learning to fly.” Amity muttered, swinging her legs off the side of her bed and standing up.

“No you don’t.” Luz cheerfully singsonged. 

“Debatable,” Amity shrugged, despite the smile on her face. “Point is, do not fly until I get there.”

“So I can fly after you get here then?” Luz asked excitedly.

“Absolutely no--”

“Too late! No take backs!” Luz crowed. With that, and a fast flourish of feathers through the crystal ball, the call abruptly ended.

Amity, not for the first time, was left wondering why Luz, of all people, just had to be the one she was so fond of.

,

Amity did not fly to the Owl House, thank you very much. She may have, however, simply ‘boosted’ herself along by flapping her wings. She knew Luz said she wouldn’t fly in this storm (for now), but she also knew Luz wasn’t known for patience. 

Lightning flashed, striking some part of the ocean in the distance, causing Amity to flinch for barely a moment. Thunder rolled overhead not long after, almost being mistakable for an earthquake.

She slipped through the trees that surrounded the old house, cursing quietly as he tugged her foot out of a small thicket of brambles. She stumbled, catching herself on the trunk of a tree. Grumbling, she looked around it, trying to judge how far she was from the house.

Turns out, not far at all. Because immediately upon seeing the structure, her vision was quickly enveloped by the bane of her existence.

“Hi, again!” Hooty yelled, or at least sounded as such. He always sounded like he was shouting. “Luz told me not to kick you out, so we can chat now!” He said gleefully.

“Get out of my face,” Amity hissed, her wings flaring behind her as they puffed up. “Before I rip off yours.”

“Hooty! Leave Amity alone!”

Luz’s voice had never been so divine. With great reluctance, Hooty retracted his face and looked back, up to the roof of the Owl House. Amity, with her sight no longer obstructed, could see Luz sitting on the very edge of the roof, her legs dangling off. Her wings were relaxed at her sides, almost draping as she lightly swung her feet.

“I was just saying hi!” Hooty complained.

“And you did a great job, Hooty.” Luz said patiently, if not exasperated. “Go back to the door, please.”

“Hmph! At least someone appreciates me around here.” Hooty grumbled, his weird tube body retracting back into the front door, where he continued to mutter to himself.

“Eugh,” Amity shuttered, her wings lying flat once more. She hated that thing.

“Sorry about him,” Luz said, her voice drifting and faint from the distance between them. “But you should come up here! Views great,” She added happily.

“You're going to get struck by lightning,” Amity sighed.

But even she couldn’t deny the request. Her dyed-green wings spread, creaking in protest at the movement. Even with her flight nearly back to normal, they still weren’t used to being opened completely. She figured (read: hoped) it would get better with time.

Amity stepped out of the trees with a flourish of her wings, rising to the air with minor difficulty as she soared towards the roof. Luz’s grin brightened as she approached, and Amity squandered down the little jump her heart did at the sight. Land first, panic about the cute sparrow later.

Amity folded her wings back as her feet brushed the tile of the roof, holding her arms out to keep her balance as she dropped back down via gravity.

“Personally, I think you could balance better by keeping your wings spread.” Luz said, looking over her shoulder from where she sat as Amity reoriented herself. “Tilts things around better. Though that's more a preference.”

Amity turned, huffing good-naturedly as she let her arms fall.

“I’ll keep that in mind!”

Amity’s sentence was cut off as thunder roared overhead, even managing to make the ground tremble slightly. She stumbled, her hands quickly connecting with Luz’s wing. The human had raised it up to catch Amity, blinking in concern as Amity clung to it for a few moments until the thunder faded out.

“You alright?” Luz asked, a hint of teasing in her tone.

“Fine,” Amity said curtly, quickly letting go of Luz’s wing. Even knowing that Luz wouldn’t have offered it if she didn’t feel Amity had the right to touch her wings, it still put her on edge. 

“I’m not typically out during thunderstorms.” She mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck. “Which you shouldn’t be, either.” She added right after, fixing Luz a pointed look.

“Hey, it's a storm with no boiling rain!” Luz persisted, getting to her feet as she gestured out to the sky. “You expect me to sit inside when I don’t have to?”

“Please note that there is still lightning.” Amity said, pressing the palms of her hands together. The sky flashed white for a brief second, enunciating her point.

“I mean, in the human realm, the chances of getting struck by lightning are pretty slim.” Luz shrugged, her wings mimicking the gesture. “Unless you're at a high point with metal. Which I will not be taking with me up there.” She said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“How much do I have to stress that this is a horrible idea for you to go back inside?” Amity asked, her wings squeezing tighter at her sides. “Just because the twins Thunderdived doesn’t mean that it's a good, or safe, idea. Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Too late, made up my mind.” Luz teased, her wings raising slightly over her back as she looked back to the sky as a less-destructive clap of thunder sounded overhead. “Sounds like it could be fun.”

“Your idea of fun is sitting in the maw of a hungry demon and daring it to eat you.” Amity deadpanned. “Where’s Eda, anyway? Surely she’s at least a little responsible with Thunderdiving?”

“Eda’s out stealing with King, I think.” Luz said, face scrunched up in thought. “She just said it had to do with business and left. Which either means she got a deal on something or felt like pestering the Warden again.”

“It’s a miracle you're still alive.” Amity groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I’ll say,” Luz agreed, looking down to the ground far below. “Now, since you're here, I believe there’s some lightning that needs to be evaded.” She said, her wings arching and opening up as she crouched on the edge of the roof like a feathery gargoyle.

“Don’t you dare,” Amity growled, reaching for Luz.

In the same movement, Luz pitched over the ledge. She dove up almost instantly, but the sight still gave Amity’s stomach a sharp drop for a solid second. Luz flew just out of reach, spinning around and hovering in the air with a wide grin plastered on her face.

“Tell you what,” Luz said, mocking the impression of being deep in thought. “I won’t Thunderdive, if,” She raised a finger at that, despite Amity not even attempting to interrupt. “You can catch me.” She said, smirking like she’d made the deal of the century.

“...are you seriously gambling with your life on a game of tag?” Amity demanded incrudeously, once again questioning why this was the person she cared a stupid amount for.

“You make it sound so dramatic,” Luz whined, crossing her arms. “Plenty of people survive Thunderdiving.”

“Surviving is not the same as avoiding plummeting into the ocean.” Amity stressed, seconds away from knocking her head against something.

“Guess you’ll have to be fast then.” Luz said with a shrug, her tail flaring out. “Race you!”

With that, Luz shot off into the air, causing a breeze to ruffle Amity’s hair and wings. For a sparrow, she was remarkably quick at how she sped into the air and up towards the looming darkening clouds, thunder booming around them.

“Luz!” Amity snapped, more annoyed than anything. She leapt off the roof as well, taking half a second more to orient herself in the air before shooting off after her.

,

Now, being a kestrel, Amity obviously had the upper hand on speed. No matter how fast Luz boasted she could be, she was still a sparrow. In a straight-line flight, Amity would’ve caught up with little effort, even with her wings limited use.

However, what Luz lacked in speed, she made up for tenfold in agility and tricks. Amity blamed Eda for all of that.

So it was no surprise (albeit it still frustrating) that when Amity found herself surrounded by swaths of storm clouds, Luz was already long hidden. The dark masses providing perfect cover for her duller feathers. And while Amity could scarcely tell up from down, Luz never seemed to be bothered by it in the slightest.

“Luz!” Amity called, deciding it best to glide in a large circle. “I thought this was tag, not hide-and-seek!” She gruffed, eyes scanning the clouds.

Another point to Amity’s team. She had far sharper vision. Meaning that should Luz stray so much as a hair too far out of her cover, Amity would spot her in seconds. Hopefully. 

“But it makes it so much more fun!” Luz crowed, causing Amity to spin around.

Luz flew like a bullet, a mere few meters away, as she ducked and dove through another clump of clouds.

Thunder roared in Amity’s ears as she sighed, tucking in her wings and diving after her. Amity broke from the dark mass and came to a cleared-out section in the sky. Clouds were still all around her, but the storm seemed almost hollowed-out, leaving rolling stretches of clear sight.

And with a strike of lightning in the distance, Amity’s eyes instantly locked onto a distant shape flying right through the middle of it, closer to the lower-level clouds.

Amity took off, keeping high as she began to overtake Luz. The human appeared oblivious to where Amity had gone, her head moving back and forth as she scanned everywhere but up.

Amity squandered the impulse to call out. Instead she took a deep breath, reigning herself in before sharply yanking her wings to her sides, nearly folding them completely.

She dropped like a stone, careening straight down towards Luz. Her wings tensed, ready to flare out and stop her descent at a moment's notice. She wanted to catch Luz, not strike her out of the sky.

Perhaps it was the sound of her diving, or maybe it was simple intuition, but just as Amity was nearly upon Luz, the sparrow spun around. Her eyes widened right as lightning flashed. Amity was close enough she swore she could see it reflect in her gaze.

At a speed Amity would chalk up to magic if she weren’t human, Luz rolled out of the way, her wings whirling as she dropped for a second before darting to the side. Amity flared out her wings as she missed, almost giving herself whiplash at how quick her descent stopped.

“That’s the spirit!” Luz cheered, flying around Amity as she shook her head and steadied herself. 

“Spirit, huh?” Amity parroted, taking the moment to twist around and lunge.

Luz, completely unbothered, simply rolled out of the way again with a laugh, rising a few feet in the air. She gave a happy chirrup, now tauntingly flying in a circle around Amity.

“That's the best you got?” Luz teased, doing a cocky flip in the air.

Thunder rumbled around them. Amity was very aware that Luz was purposefully egging her on, getting both of them caught in Thunderdiving.

She couldn’t find it in her to care right then.

“You wish,” Amity huffed, bolting towards Luz in the same instance.

Luz squealed excitedly, almost getting a wing to the face as she ducked and shot up back into the clouds, Amity close behind. 

Luz twisted and dipped through the sky, trying and failing to give Amity the slip. And despite Amity’s best efforts to treat this seriously, she couldn’t help but laugh alongside her. It was fun, dare she say it. Though never in the proximity of the twins. She’d never hear the end of it.

Luz darted around Amity again before shooting into the air, diving straight up before pausing, her momentum slowing. Amity tilted her head as she watched, admittedly intrigued. 

When Luz hit the peak of her ascent she trilled, tucking in her wings and flipping backwards before diving back down again. She flew right over Amity’s head as she passed, giggling and, though Amity couldn’t be completely sure, a little nervous.

“What are--”

Amity’s amused inquiry was cut off by a roar of thunder, feeling like her brain was rattling in her skull. Luz, unbothered as ever, swung back around in her flight to cuff the tip of Amity’s wing with her own, whooping gleefully.

“Wha--unfair!” Amity shouted, fumbling in the air for a moment before shooting after her.

Luz cackled and flew up again, wings tucked close as she flipped through the air. Lightning struck in the distance, highlighting both girls for mere moments.

Once again, Luz cheerfully chirruped when she reached her peak and dove back down, ruffling Amity’s feathers as she zoomed by.

It was a pattern Amity had seen before from other birds of prey. Usually at some dinner party or get-together her parents hosted. Typically from the other snobby rich kids who wanted to impress the eye of a Blight. It had always been one of the most shoehorned spectacles Amity had the misfortune of witnessing.

And as Luz made a noise similar to a chatter and dove right by Amity, throwing taunts behind her, Amity wondered if she was aware of this. She was quick to dismiss the thought and shook her head, calling back to Luz with a jeering crow. 

Luz did things that sparrows normally never even thought about all the time. The few times anyone had pointed it out, Luz had always stared back blankly. Luz was just, well, Luz. She did whatever she felt like doing with the only reason being because it was fun and she wanted to.

She simply didn’t know.

Didn’t mean Amity was gonna stop her, though.

Amity shook out of her thoughts before beating her wings and soaring after Luz, who had flew around a spiral of clouds with a mischievous grin. 

“And you said this was a bad idea,” Luz teased, ducking to the side as Amity flew right by her.

“It is.” Amity huffed, tilting her wings to glide back around, allowing for their game to pause. Because it was hard to talk while chasing after an uncatchable human, of course, why else?

“You sure?” Luz asked, giving Amity a smug look over her shoulder that did not make her wings falter, that would be ridiculous. “Because I’d almost say you're having fun.” She teased.

“That doesn’t mean this isn’t an awful idea,” Amity reminded, the thunder rumbling around them enunciating her point. “We could go flying any day, but in a thunderstorm is the worst time.” She said, forcing herself to let her wings relax when Luz began flying at a leisurely pace, resisting the urge to chase after her again.

“Hey, we haven’t been struck yet.” Luz pointed out, turning so that she could face Amity while flying backwards (how she managed that so casually, Amity wished she knew). “The twins must’ve taught you enough then, huh?”

“The twins have taught me a total of three things in my life.” Amity said, a bitter tone not going unnoticed. “Don’t trust them with anything of importance, how to sell any absurd lie, and that Thunderdiving is a terrible, Titan-awful idea.” 

“Can really feel the familial love,” Luz said blankly. “Look on the bright side, now that you're here, we both get a learning experience.”

Lighting struck twice in the distance, catching the girls eyes for a brief second.

“How fun,” Amity sighed, slowly tearing her eyes away from where the lightning had been. “I still don’t know why you thought it would be a good idea to ask me for the twins. Even without a dry thunderstorm, that's gotta be the most suspicious thing you could ever ask.”

“Heh, yeah, well, we’re here now.” Luz said, glancing to Amity for a quick second before tilting her wings until she was flying a few feet below and to the left of Amity, her gaze pointed forwards.

Amity narrowed her eyes, positive that Luz knew she was staring at her now and was ignoring her. There was something nagging at the back of Amity’s mind, and from experience, it was probably best to follow thoughts like that.

“Hey,” Amity said, her voice slow as memories were pushed to the front of her mind. The way Luz’s entire body tensed so violently that she almost froze midair was so comical Amity almost lost her train of thought to snort at it.

“Don’t you have the twins' numbers?” She asked, raising a brow.

“Oh, do I?” Luz said, her voice a few octaves higher as she looked sideways towards Amity, her eyes notably wider. 

“Yeah, didn’t you share numbers with them when I was preparing you for Grom because they thought it’d be fun to grab you for some scheme if you survived?” Amity said, not even bothering with a suspicious tone. She could tell from the first tense she had been right.

“Huh,” Luz said, visibly swallowing as she looked away. “Weird. Must’ve forgotten.”

Amity gave Luz possibly one of her best unamused expressions to date, which she had the audacity to refuse to look at.

“You planned this, didn’t you?” Amity deadpanned, the realizations coming to her mere moments before she said them. “You,” Amity blinked, her words coming out as shocked and maybe a little impressed. “You wanted me to come here!”

Luz turned her head to Amity then, looking guiltier than Gus after being caught trying to get petty revenge on Mattholomule for the third time in a week. Her hands fiddled together as her wings looked like they wanted to hunch up, but couldn’t due to them being the only things stopping her from plummeting.

“I mean…” Luz said slowly, her eyes darting this way and that. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Amity, if anything, was far more dismayed that she’d fallen for the most basic trick in the book than the fact Luz had goaded her into doing something as recklessly stupid as Thunderdiving. And that must’ve shown on her face, because Luz looked like she didn’t know if she should laugh or be concerned. 

“You sneak!” Amity cried, taking Luz’s unsure state to tuck into a dive right for her.

Luz yelped and barely managed to dodge, her tail feathers brushing the tips of Amity’s fingers. Luz whirled around from where she escaped a few meters below Amity, fear flashing across her features for a swift moment until she saw the determined smile on Amity’s face. 

“You're just mad that it worked!” Luz laughed, with only a hint of worry in her tone.

“Just for that, I’m going to tell Willow about this.” Amity said, raising her chin defiantly before darting towards Luz once more.

“You wouldn’t!” Luz gasped in playful offense. “Willow would know that you were out here, too!”

“I’m not the one who wanted to fly in a storm!” Amity shot back. “I’m innocent by reason of trying to do the responsible thing.”

“You're still here, though.”

“Because you won’t stay still!”

They went around in circles, making themselves dizzy as they dodged and dove between darkened clouds. The only way to tell up from down was by pausing the beating of their wings and letting gravity overtake them before they went right back to doing loop-de-loops.

Luz shot up through a swath of clouds, wings arched slightly as she rose into the air with the dark, almost black, clouds at her back. Amity tilted her head up, letting her wings pause briefly in the air as she watched, maybe a little entranced. Possibly.

Luz turned, gazing down to grin at Amity as her descend paused.

And lightning lit up practically on top of her.

She swore in that moment that it looked like the lightning had cut right through Luz. She shut her eyes a moment after, the light blinding her momentarily as she jerked back and rubbed at them.

“Luz?” She called, blinking her eyes rapidly a moment later. “Luz! Where--”

The sparrow wasn’t there. Amity whirled around, wings almost failing in keeping her upright due to the speed at how fast she looked all around, not knowing if she should be relieved or not she couldn't see anything plummeting to the ground. Did the clouds swallow her up? Was she already on the ground? Were they over the ocean? She couldn’t see--

“Amity!”

She startled, feathers flaring up as Luz appeared from a cluster of clouds. Shaken, clearly, her eyes were heavily contracted and darting about. But flying, albeit wonkily, and that was the important part.

“Great Isles!” Amity breathed, not even aware of her wings moving until she was right in front of Luz, grabbing at her arms and flicking her eyes over her for any mark that wasn’t there previously. 

“I’m-I’m okay, hey,” Luz shook her head, tail twitching. “Barely even grazed me, I promise.”

“Barely is not the same as didn’t,” Amity stressed, eyes finally landing on her right wing.

Three secondary feathers were gone, instead replaced by smoldering black stumps. The ends of the feathers surrounding it were tipped with ash, too. Lucky it wasn’t any primary feathers, or Luz might have actually begun to fall.

“Oh Titan,” Amity murmured, eyes locked onto the hole through Luz’s wing. She could see now Luz was favoring her right wing.

“You weren’t kidding about lightning being nasty, huh?” Luz said, following her gaze and looking over the blackened feathers. “I mean, I knew it was, but I wasn’t expecting it to, you know, be out for blood.”

“Please don’t joke about being hit by lightning,” Amity said quietly, shoulders hunching.

“Hey, hey,” Luz pulled an arm free of Amity’s grasp, also grabbing at her and getting her to look away from the missing feathers. “I’m fine. Nothing that won’t grow back.” She assured. 

Thunder rumbled through the sky, causing both of them to flinch. Their eyes darted to the sky for a moment, antsy and waiting for the flash of lightning.

It lit up the sky further away, highlighting the two of them before it died out.

“I think I’ve had enough Thunderdiving for today.” Luz eventually said, tearing her gaze away from where the lightning had hit and back to Amity. “Besides,” She added as she rose up her arm, showing Amity was still tightly clinging to her. “You caught me.” She said, giving a small smile.

Amity blinked, staring at where she was hanging onto Luz so tightly her claws looked close to piercing the skin. She jerked her hands back, offering a nervous, apologetic smile.

“Yeah, right, course.” Amity nodded, flying a few paces back. “Gotta get that wing checked out, and...all that.”

“Think I could spin it off that Hooty was the reason for this?” Luz asked, readjusting her wings so she was flying more towards her uninjured side. 

“I’ll be your witness,” Amity agreed, glancing back as thunder rolled through the sky. 

“Cool,” Luz smiled, shaking her head and flickering her distant gaze away from the dark clouds. Amity almost asked if she was alright again before she called out; “Last one to the House has to get in through the window!” 

Luz took that same moment to tuck in her wings and plummet. 

“Wh--don’t dive on a wing with missing feathers!” Amity squawked, feathers fluffing up as she dove right after her.

Luz’s laughs answered her. Leaving Amity wondering, for possibly the fifth time in two weeks, how Luz had lasted things long to begin with.

But hey, if Luz can survive a run-in with lightning, she could probably survive anything.

[jaskierswolf]

Jaskier’s A-Z of Animals

Summary: “I have an idea!” Lambert announced loudly, his words slurring slightly. He’d clearly drunk too much white gull.

Jaskier flicked his ears and tilted his head. This could only end terribly.

- Or Lambert suggests a game of Guess the Animal.

Previous Story (but this can also be read alone)

_________

Jaskier purred happily as Geralt’s fingers threaded through his fur. The fire was roaring in the hearth and Jaskier delighted in the prickle of heat against his feline body. The witchers were all drunk as skunks but Jaskier hadn’t felt like joining in with their merriment. Their witcher booze did strange things to his head and he’d vowed to bring his own store of ale or wine along with him next time.

Lambert was pontificating loudly, swishing his hands about and rambling on about some stupid humans he’d met on the path. Apparently they’d tried to swindle him out of his coin after a contract. Jaskier yawned and flicked his tail, hissing gently. He’d seen enough of that behaviour over the last few months with Geralt. Luckily for Geralt, Jaskier the mutant dog/wolf companion had been incredibly efficient at persuading the more nefarious humans to relinquish their coin. Geralt scratched him behind the ears. Jaskier meowed and rolled onto his back so that Geralt could scratch his belly.

The witcher chuckled. “Always so needy, you bastard.” He murmured fondly but his fingers still moved to Jaskier’s soft fur on his underbelly.

Jaskier hissed and grabbed Geralt’s fingers under his claws. He didn’t draw blood but Geralt should know better than to call him needy. That just wasn’t fair.

“Jask.” Geralt warned and pulled his fingers away.

Well now, that wouldn’t do. He yowled loudly and tilted his head, widening his eyes as he peered up at his witcher.

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Stop scratching me then.”

Jaskier mewed and rolled back over so he could climb up onto Geralt’s shoulder. He nipped at Geralt’s ear gently.

“I have an idea!” Lambert announced loudly, his words slurring slightly. He’d clearly drunk too much white gull.

Jaskier flicked his ears and tilted his head. This could only end terribly.

“Spit it out, Lambert.” Geralt grumbled.

“Fuck off, patience, White Wolf!” Lambert glared at him and tripped over the rug. He almost fell flat on his face but Jaskier was quicker. He leapt to the ground, shifting mid leap into a wolf. Lambert fell against him and laughed. “I found a Jaskier!”

Eskel snorted. “You didn’t find him. Geralt found him and then he shagged him.”

Geralt groaned. “You guys are drunk.”

“Yeah, well, You’re not drunk enough!” Lambert mumbled into Jaskier’s fur.

He howled and wagged his tail.

“See, Jaskier agrees with me!” Lambert grinned. “Who’s a good boy? Are you a good boy?”

Jaskier barked, turning so he could nuzzle against Lambert. He wrinkled his nose as the scent of white gull hit him. Gods it stank, especially in this form. He really didn’t know how the witchers could bear it.

“He’s not actually a dog, Lambert.” Geralt sighed wearily.

Jaskier turned to Geralt and growled. He was a good boy! Geralt was just a grumpy witcher.

“Fine. Whatever.” Geralt rolled his eyes but came over to join them on the floor.

Jaskier wagged his tail and then sat in Geralt’s lap. Geralt huffed but rested his chin on Jaskier’s back. Lambert continued to scratch him behind the ears and he was in heaven. It really was a dog’s life at Kaer Morhen.

“I want a go.” Eskel whined. “Geralt always gets a go.”

“Get your own.” Geralt grumbled and buried his face in Jaskier’s thick fur.

Geralt was apparently a sleepy drunk this evening. Jaskier liked that, Geralt was always more cuddly when he was tired, but he was also being a grumpy bastard and needed to learn to share. Jaskier rolled his eyes and leapt from Geralt lap. He jumped at Eskel, putting his paws on the man’s shoulders, and licked him in the face.

“Puppy!” Eskel laughed and scrunched his nose up as Jaskier continued to lick his face.

“What was your idea?” Geralt asked Lambert.

“My idea! Guess the animal!” He yelled.

Jaskier sat back down and barked. He assumed he would play a part in this game. He growled quietly, a low rumble in his chest. The witchers knew that he didn’t enjoy being treated like an experiment. He didn’t want this game to turn into a test of his abilities like it had beenat Lettenhove. He shifted again into a mouse and scurried back to Geralt. The room blurred as he shifted and he used his whiskers to guide him as he buried into Geralt’s shift.

Geralt snarled at the redhead. “Lambert!”

“What?”

“He’s family, not a toy.” Geralt’s voice rumbled in his chest and Jaskier could feel the vibrations. He squeaked and nuzzled Geralt’s chest.

“I know!” Lambert whined. “But I thought…”

“You don’t think!” Geralt snapped. “That’s your problem.”

Jaskier squeaked again. He wanted to know Lambert’s reasons. He wanted to trust them. They were Geralt’s family and they’d be nothing but accepting of his gifts.

“I thought!” Lambert continued loudly. “That he knew he could trust us. I thought that it could be fun for him too, he could show off a bit and he knows none of us care what he can and can’t do.”

Jaskier considered that carefully and shifted back into a cat. He poked his head out the top of Geralt’s shirt.

“Jaskier!” Geralt grumbled.

He chirped happily. The temptation to shift back to human was almost too much. Geralt saw him naked all the time. He was allowed to enjoy the thought of ripping his boyfriend’s shirt to shreds, but instead he ducked back inside the shirt and crawled out the bottom.

When he was seated back in Geralt’s lap he shifted to human.

The others yelled and pretended to cover their eyes.

“I’m in.” He announced, not bothering to cover himself and batting Geralt’s hands away. “But I reserve the right to stop at any time. The moment I feel like it’s more than a fun game then I’m out. Got it?”

Lambert grinned and extended his hand. “Deal.”

They shook on it.

“Game stops once I turn into a wolf. No questions asked.”

There was a mumble of agreement.

Jaskier thought about his knowledge of animals. It wasn’t complete despite what the witchers may think. Some animals came easier to him, the wolf and the cat for example. He found mammals easier in general. He supposed the genetic make up was closer to his human form. He was also limited by what animals he knew. He’d spent a lot of time in his youth studying books on animals. They were the only books his parents had allowed him to have in his dimeritium prison of a bedroom. For years the books had been his only access to his abilities outside of the controlled ‘sessions’.

He would start easy enough. He gave Geralt as quick kiss on the cheek and winked before letting the magic loose once more. His skin rippled back into ginger fur and his bones crunched as he shifted in Geralt’s lap.

“FOX!!” Lambert yelled. “Aww look at you. So cute.”

Jaskier let out a screeching bark and trotted over to the redhead with his bushy tail trailing after him. He nuzzled against Lambert’s open palm and shifted again.

He slithered to the floor with a hiss. Reptiles were probably his least favourite animal so he was eager to get this out of the way. The room lit up in infra red and he flicked his tongue tasting the air as he familiarised himself with the room in this form. The witchers ran cooler than humans and it was difficult to make them out with the fire drawing his eye from the corner of the room.

“Snake!” Lambert shouted again and Jaskier turned to hiss at him. He slithered up the witcher’s arm and curled around his shoulders, flicking his tongue in Lambert’s ear. “Get off.” He grumbled. “Next one!”

Jaskier shook his head and hissed.

“We have to be more specific?” He heard Eskel ask.

He nodded. He’d chosen this particular snake for a reason. The scales were distinct, yellow and bristly. He slithered back to the floor and curled up into a ball.

“Umm… Viper?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier nodded again and hissed.

“Prickly viper!” Lambert tried.

“Spiky viper?” Eskel guessed.

Both good guesses but not quite right. He hissed and shifted to human, lounging extravagantly on the rug. “Spiny bush viper, found in desert regions.” He accidentally hissed on the ’s’ sounds and grinned sheepishly. “I saw a picture in a book when I was younger. ”

Before they could question him further he shifted again, blue and orange feathers rippled out this time instead of fur. He flitted between the witchers landing on each of their heads, and he suddenly had an overwhelming craving for fish, he was starving! He  He wondered if there was any in the kitchens. He was sure Vesemir wouldn’t mind if he went for a snack.

Geralt must have recognised the animal instincts taking over and he caught Jaskier gently in his hands. Jaskier fluttered his wings angrily in Geralt’s hands and chirped loudly, trying to find an escape from his prison.

“Kingfisher.” Geralt said softly in a whisper. “Next one, Jask.”

Jaskier chirped again but let Geralt’s rough soothing voice ground him. He shifted in Geralt’s hands, his wings growing and the feathers disappearing until was a fluffy bundle in Geralt’s palm.

Geralt slowly opened his hands and Jaskier flinched away from the light. This choice had been logical in the darkness of Geralt’s hands but the bright light of the room was almost too much. He fluttered up to the ceiling, dipping a few times as his wings felt heavier than expected. It was time to rest. He felt incredibly tired all of a sudden. He curled his wings around him as he found a nook to rest in.

“Did anyone see that?” Lambert asked. “The bugger moved too fast.”

“You’re just getting slow in your old age.” Geralt laughed.

“I’m younger than you, old man!” Lambert grumbled and Jaskier heard the two witchers start to brawl.

“Jaskier!” Eskel called. “Come down and control your boyfriend.”

Boyfriend.

Geralt.

Jaskier closed his eyes and jumped from his hiding place. Shifting again mid-air into a kestrel, but for the first time in a while the shift didn’t come easy. He almost dropped to the ground before he managed to find the energy to flap his wings.

He’d done too many shifts too quickly. Cat. Wolf. Mouse. Cat. Human. Fox. Snake. Human. Kingfisher. Vampire Bat. Kestrel.

Fuck.

He’d hadn’t even noticed it had been so many.

Even back at Lettenhove he’d struggled with ten at a time. The most he’d pushed it before had been fifteen and that had almost killed him. It had been years since he’d tried. He could stay as any form for as long as he liked but too many consecutive shifts were exhausting. He’d forgotten about that. He usually settled after two or three, six at a push. There wasn’t much need to keep flitting about in different forms.

He tumbled to the ground, crash landing on the rug. The noise broke up the fight between the two grumpier witcher and Geralt scooped him up in his arms. “Jaskier, what’s wrong?” He murmured and he stroked a finger along Jaskier’s fur.

“Too much white gull!” Lambert slurred. “Drunk birds can’t fly.”

Geralt snarled at Lambert but didn’t answer him. “Can you shift to human?” He asked quietly.

Jaskier considered it. His wings felt limp but nothing was broken. He was just tired, he needed a nap and food… gods he was so hungry.

“Jask, don’t sleep. Not yet. I need to know you’re ok.” Geralt was obviously worried and Jaskier felt a little guilty for forgetting his own limits like that. He should have known better.

He’d just been swept up in the witchers’ joy and laughter, knowing the excitement they felt had nothing to do with wanting to use and abuse his abilities. The tasks had been so similar to those he’d performed at Lettenhove but the warmth and affection of the witchers had been the opposite of the calm calculated coolness of his parents.

Geralt needed to know he was ok. He needed words.

That meant he had to shift.

He let his magic go one last time and collapsed against Geralt’s chest. “Fuck!” He groaned. “Game over.”

And passed out.

________

When he awoke he was covered in furs and wearing one of Geralt’s black shirts by the feel of it. Geralt’s shirts were rougher fabric than his own. His whole body ached and he felt liked he’d run through one of the witcher obstacle courses, twice. Geralt’s fingers were in his hair and he could hear him bickering with Lambert.

“Well how was I supposed to know?” Lambert grumbled. “It’s not like I purposely set out to hurt him.”

“Again.” Eskel chimed, clearly amused by the entire argument.

If Jaskier’s head hadn’t been quite so sore he probably would have laughed. He’d underestimated the blond witcher when he’d first arrived at Kaer Morhen. He’d been taken in by Eskel’s kind and gentle personality. He’d hadn’t noticed the glimmer of humour underneath. Eskel seemed to thrive in chaos. He enjoyed gently pushing and teasing his fellow witchers until they were almost at each other’s throats and Vesemir had to calm everyone down. The others hadn’t even seemed to realise that it was Eskel manipulating the entire conversation. Jaskier had a huge amount of respect for Eskel as a result.

“Again.” Geralt growled.

Jaskier knew his witcher was about two seconds away from brawling with Lambert again and he took pity on the redhead. He groaned dramatically and snuggled further into Geralt’s lap.

“Jaskier?” Geralt’s hands stopped in his hair.

“Morning…” He mumbled.

“What happened, pup?” Jaskier blinked a few times and then opened his eyes. Vesemir had joined them… oh and they were in his bedroom.

“Shifted too many times.” He muttered. “Forgot to take a break.”

“This has never happened before.” Geralt hummed thoughtfully.

Jaskier tried to sit up but his head span so he flopped back onto Geralt’s lap on the bed. Geralt was sitting up against the headboard and Jaskier had essentially been using him as a pillow, not an unusual occurrence. The others were crowded around the bed. He felt a pang of guilt. He must have really worried them for them to all be here.

“Not for years. When was the last time you’ve seen me shift more than…” He pause to think “six times?”

Geralt just hummed a response.

“Yeah, didn’t think so.” He grumbled. “Now can everyone please fuck off, I’m tired.”

The witchers all grumbled and began to filter out of them room. Lambert mumbling what could have been an apology as he left.

Jaskier’s stomach rumbled noisily. “Oi! Wait! On second thoughts! Lambert, darling, dearest witcher. Have we got any fish?”

Lambert groaned and stalked out the room. “I’m only doing this because I almost killed you, wolf.”

“Again!” Eskel pointed out with a laugh.

“Fuck off!”

Jaskier grinned and cuddled up against his boyfriend. Family, you couldn’t live without them.

_______

Next Story!

[time-to-write-and-suffer]

Your blog is a beautiful chaos. I love it! You're honestly my favourite blog on tumblr. I was wondering if I could please get some fun facts about some of your characters for any of your WIPs, I would love to know more about them, specially about folk and kestrel my beloveds. 💗

dlfhdkjfdkjhd thank you so much Nonny! It means a lot, and I'm glad that my fun semi-safe space online doubles as your fun space too! <3

Unfortunately I'm not much for fun facts as I pull most of my characterization out of my ass as I write it and am not a very detail-focused writer. I have considered filling out one of those character questionnaires some day for funzies, though.

However ... You can have some of my favorite excerpts from the dragon wip entirely for free 👀 And extrapolate some fun facts from those I guess dkfjhgdkfjdkjd

From chapter 1

“Your Majesty, if you call this a tantrum, then you haven’t seen me at my worst yet,” I stated.

“Are you threatening me, Kestrel?” Father said with a touch of sadness, which was something, I supposed.

“I would never threaten you, Your Majesty. But you can’t expect me to just accept this. Robert is not a good match for me, and you know it.”

“Who is a good match, then? Nobody else wants you.”

I pursed my lips and looked down on my hands, stained with chalk from when I practiced drawing ritual circles earlier this morning.

Yes, all right, that was true. I may have scared off every other suitor so far, not that I’d had that many to begin with. Most of the reputable families didn’t want anything to do with me since I wasn’t technically in the line of succession. Those that did ended up regretting it because they realized I’d be more trouble than I was worth, which wasn’t a lot.

Chapter 2

“I would gladly spend more time socializing with your court, Your Majesty,” I sighed and lounged in my throne, “if there was anyone here worth spending time with.”

Father’s nostrils flared, and the queen did a full turn just to give me a very displeased, very warning glare. She wasn’t the only one, but I could barely name the clowns staring at me, much less care about their opinions. I was going to be married off to my thirty-three-year-old cousin, I was allowed to have some fun.

“So you’ve made it your goal tonight to be as unmarriageable as possible,” Father continued in a much lower tone. “Too bad Robert isn’t here to see it.”

“Don’t worry, I can do this all night.”

Chapter 3

“I think … it may be my womanly heart making me weep for this poor creature,” I said after remembering Father’s words earlier today.

Casper narrowed his eyes, knowing me too well to believe I had a heart at all, but Robert was absolutely taken. “Oh, of course! How wonderful it is to hear that you can spare sympathy for even a beast like this. But don’t waste your heart on this creature, he came here with ill intent and deserves no such mercy.”

“Ill intent? Did he tell you that?”

Robert blinked. “Well, no, but he’s a dragon. What other intent could he have in our territories?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Exactly. So consider it well before you try to offer him food.”

“If you did not want me taking care of this creature, why did you give it to me, Robert?” I sighed dramatically. “You aren’t jealous of a dragon, are you?”

His face immediately fell. Robert wasn’t a handsome man, but he wasn’t ugly either. He looked only mildly inbred, like if you took a normal man and sort of squeezed his face a little too hard between a road and a cartwheel.

“N-no, of course not!”

“Then please, stop intruding on my womanly duties and let me complete them in peace.”

Chapter 4

“Does it really matter why I want to release you? It sounds to me like you’d rather stay here,” I said and began cutting the second and final steak.

“I would not. But it is curious. You do not know why I am here. What if I simply eat you the moment I am free?”

His mischievous smile was back in full force, though the mean edge to his gaze made it crueler.

I shrugged. “How do you know I didn’t just curse your drink and food?”

The smile disappeared and his jaw worked as he stared at the nearly empty plate. There was something akin to fear in his eyes when he looked up at me again, though it was swiftly replaced with begrudging acceptance.

“It seems we are both a little overconfident, perhaps,” I said diplomatically. “But maybe that’s just another reason for us to work together, don’t you think?”

I have more but the post is long enough already lmao. I guess these show that Kestrel is just extremely annoying, bless this mess.

[butchhamlet]

And for the characters, peril wingsoffire, orsino twelfthnight, ippolit warandpeace and uhhhhh firestar warriorcats

PERIL WINGSOFFIRE (yes i run a shakespeare blog yes im about to encourage you all to read wings of fire the children's books about dragons because they genuinely hold up and still slap)

Sexuality Headcanon: i think peril is bi i think that's her right Gender Headcanon: on the one hand i'm hesitant to hc peril as a trans woman because she's. a walking weapon and i feel like that could get dicey. however it could also be interesting as a reason why kestrel might not recognize her as an adult. + in the sense of... scarlet supporting her gender as long as peril does shit for her as another form of manipulation A ship I have with said character: peril/sunny maybe? i can't think of a reason why that one would be bad and i think they both have so much bright energy just in different directions yknow... like sunny is so sweet in a way most people (dragons) aren't to peril, and also i'm envisioning sunny curling up to sleep near peril because her heat reminds her of the desert :) A BROTP I have with said character: i don't really ship clay and peril romantically because i feel like peril really needs to sort out her own self-worth with regard to clay (and i'm glad that, at least as far as i've read, the books haven't shoved them together + have put an emphasis on giving them time to figure it out! we stan actually well-written het romance). however i DO think they are buddies and character foils and he's the only one who can hug her so he should A NOTP I have with said character: i guess peril and scarlet?? because of the obvious reasons?? maybe peril and turtle as well because idk i just like them as friends A random headcanon: i know most jewelry melts when it touches her, but turtle's an animus, right. i think he enchants her some jewelry that won't melt & she's so incredibly touched because she's never been able to wear bracelets before (bonus points if it's ugly as fuck but she's enthralled anyway) General Opinion over said character: peril my bestie my beloved. i had mixed feelings on her until her POV and now she's my best friend she's so much fun and her arc is so good

ORSINO TWELFTHNIGHT

Sexuality Headcanon: one of the most bisexual characters ever, actually Gender Headcanon: generally i think of orsino as a cis man (and presumed straight until he meets viola and Figures Some Things Out), but i also once read a fic where orsino is a trans bear and that concept is so god tier A ship I have with said character: orsino and violacesario :) A BROTP I have with said character: i think orsino and olivia become friends after the events of canon! i'd like to imagine he apologizes for being The Way He Was and they get to bond over being... very lonely people figuring out their relationships to love A NOTP I have with said character: orsino/olivia. dude she said to fuck off stop showing up at her HOUSE A random headcanon: he plays like five instruments very well but when it comes to singing he's tone fucking deaf. at first viola is like "why do you have other people make music for you" and then they hear him sing and they're like.... ah General Opinion over said character: i'll admit of TN characters i probably think about him the least? but i think his character arc is really interesting (and can be played in a very dark direction but i'm ignoring that because i'm in nice-headcanon-land)

IPPOLIT WARANDPEACE

Sexuality Headcanon: we know this man is gay Gender Headcanon: i haven't thought in depth about ippolit's gender but an agender ippolit could be cool. to balance out his siblings. the kuragins got one of each /s A ship I have with said character: ishpolit ofc <3 (the fact that this fic is unironically good. shakes my fist) A BROTP I have with said character: the obvious answer here is ippolit and lise but for whatever reason i read this and "ippolit and dolokhov" popped into my head. can you imagine dolokhov leaving either kuragin's bedroom in the middle of the night and ippolit is still awake doing weird shit downstairs and he's like "hi!!!" [waving] and dolokhov is like. hi? A NOTP I have with said character: ippolit and lise... he's a gay man and he wouldn't know how to have an affair if it bit him anyway A random headcanon: i'm partial to a neurodivergent ippolit but that's because i like to look at comic relief characters and go "oh me?" General Opinion over said character: i fucking love him im obsessed with him my war and peace blog url is literally lesbians4ippolit what else do i have to say

FIRESTAR WARRIORCATAS

Sexuality Headcanon: am i allowed to stand here and be like "firestar is a lesbian because he's my oldest comfort character and i'm a lesbian" Gender Headcanon: see above. A ship I have with said character: firestar/sandstorm i know it's basic and canon but literally who is doing it like them. WHO is doing it like them! shoutout to the post that's like "firesand walked so hiccup/astrid in HTTYD could run" like fucking say that A BROTP I have with said character: i know the obvious answer here is firestar and graystripe and i do adore them but i feel so much more passionately about firestar and cinderpelt like. ;-; A NOTP I have with said character: firecinder there is literally no reason to be like "actually cinderpelt loved him!" let them be friends. i also have a seething hatred for firestar/spottedleaf, kept burning in my body from when i was ten apparently. he's a married man why is he getting homewrecked by a fucking ghost and why does this keep happening for like... sixty books A random headcanon: he and bramblestar never said so in as many words, but they both considered him bramblestar's real father. (and they both knew it; they didn't have to talk about it to feel it.) General Opinion over said character: . this is so embarrassing. hopping on my shakespeare blog to admit that my oldest and deepest and #1 comfort character ever in my life is cat jesus from cat game of thrones for children

[snowdice]

Little Kestrel (Part 14)[Birds of Different Feathers Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan & Patton & Virgil (future Virgil/Patton but not in this story)

Characters:

Main: Logan, Patton, Virgil

Appear: Thomas

Mentioned: Janus

Summary:

It was supposed to be a quick job either way. Either Virgil would assassinate King Thomas of Prijaznia or he’d be caught and get executed. Yet, when Virgil gets the wrong bedroom and gets caught by Prince Logan and his future royal advisor, Patton, the job ends up getting way more complicated for the 14-year-old. He also ends up sleeping in a (actually pretty comfortable) closet for a few weeks…

Notes: Implied/referenced child abuse, assassination attempt, knives, torture mentioned, captivity, teenagers being really dumb

This is a prequel to Kill Dear. I wrote it 100 words at a time on my blog, but this is the edited version. If you want to see how it was crafted, look at the tag proofread stories.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

“So then,” Patton was saying. “We ran to the stables.”

“We went to gazebo first,” Logan cut in.

“Right, we tried to go to the gazebo first,” Patton corrected, “but Mr. Deknis was over there tending to the tomatoes, and we knew he’d tell Mama the second he saw us. So, then we turned around and went to the stables.”

Virgil tilted his head, listening to the story Patton was telling. Patton was not the best storyteller. He tended to get lost in the middle and embellish, though Logan always corrected him. It was still very entertaining to watch though because he got incredibly animated. He’d even toppled himself over in excitement a couple of times.

Virgil squeezed the small pillow he had in his lap. He… wasn’t 100% sure what was going on. Logan and Patton had settled him on the blanket covered ground near Logan’s bed and proceeded to feed him snacks and talk about a lot of different things. It had started with them talking about what they’d done that day, and when Patton had made reference to something Virgil hadn’t understood, the two of them ended up talking about things from their childhood.

Virgil found himself entranced by their stories about playing in and running around the castle. It was all so different from what Virgil had experienced.

“…but, right as we were about to get to the ladder to climb up into the hay loft, Logan tripped!” Patton said, arms whipping around him. “He fell into a container of grain for the horses and it spilled all over the place. He tried to get up but grabbed the edge of the water trough and apparently it wasn’t very secure because it fell over and soaked him. So, then he was wet and covered in grain. He looked hilarious.”

“I did not!” Logan protested, but it did not sound like all of the other times he’d corrected Patton’s stories that night.

Patton looked over at him. “You did! You woke up the cute stable hand and he laughed himself silly at you, and by the time we got you even partially cleaned up, your dad had already found us. That’s how we got caught.”

“I have no recollection of these events,” Logan clearly lied, his cheeks a bit flushed.

“Liar,” Patton claimed. “You complained about picking grain out of your sheets for weeks.”

“No,” Logan growled.

“Yes! It’s okay. It was a good laugh.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed on him, and he looked pissed, but a second later, his expression lightened up. “You know what else was a ‘good laugh’?” he asked.

There was a second of silence before…

“Don’t you dare Logan.”

Logan looked Patton directly in the eye. “Patton was thirteen,” Logan started, but was interrupted the next moment when Patton lobbed a pillow at his head. Logan grabbed the pillow and leaned forward to smack Patton back with it. “He was thirteen and had just ‘discovered boys’ as his mother and my father called it when they attempted to explain his behavior to me. The focus of said ‘discovering’ at the time was the son of an ambassador from Lamir” who was staying for the summer, a seventeen-year-old boy by the name Bernardo.”

Virgil flinched back as Patton suddenly threw himself across the semicircle they’d made with their bodies to tackle Logan to the ground. He watched as they ineffectually wrestled on the ground for a few seconds before Logan, voice strained, continued to speak, while battling Patton’s hands away from his mouth.

“Patton’s only knowledge about flirting… ow… at that point was laughing at everything someone said and touching their arms and shoulders.” Logan managed to flip himself onto his stomach which was a horrible move as far as Virgil was concerned. It put him at a disadvantage to get out of the pin. However, Patton just kept reaching for his mouth and didn’t bare down on his neck to try to cut off his oxygen like Virgil expected. So, perhaps it was a rational move. “Our parents were speaking leaving Patton, Bernardo, and I in the garden,” Logan mumbled into the ground. “Bernardo said something ‘funny’ and Patton went to slap his shoulder while laughing but shoved too hard… Patton did you just lick my face?!”

“And I’ll do it again if you don’t shut up!” Patton threatened. That was a… weird fighting strategy.

Logan paused to consider his options. “He shoved Bernardo into the fountain and when Bernardo asked him why he did that, he ran away and wouldn’t talk to him the rest of the summer!” Logan rushed out.

Patton reached over and grabbed the nearest pillow, proceeding to whack him viciously in the back of the head. Logan was lucky the nearest object was a pillow and not something any sturdier. “It’s not funny!” Patton yelled, smacking him even more, which was when Virgil realized Logan was laughing despite the pinning and pillow pummeling. “It’s not!” Patton said. “I really liked him!!”

“He was seventeen!” Logan said. “It was never going to happen!”

Patton groaned and rolled off of Logan to lay on his back and stare at the ceiling. “But he had so many muscles,” Patton said. “He probably could have thrown me 10 yards.”

“And that is… a benefit?” Logan asked, rolling over onto his side to face him.

“You don’t. Get me.” Patton tilted his head to look at Virgil. “Anyway,” he said. “That is the story of how I died at 13.”

Virgil stared at him, and Patton’s forehead crinkled looking at him.

“Is something wrong, honey?” he asked.

 “What was that?” Virgil asked.

“What was what?”

Virgil just blinked at him. Patton seemed to think for a moment.

“Oh, did you think we were fighting?” Patton asked. “Like, really fighting?”

“You weren’t fighting?” Virgil asked.

“No, sweetie,” Patton said. “We were just playing.” He popped up into a sitting position. “Well, play fighting, but emphasis on play!”

Virgil looked over at Logan for confirmation. “No one is harmed nor was there any intention to harm each other,” he assured.

Patton grabbed the pillow he’d been smacking Logan with. “Like this!” he said. “Bap.” Unlike how he’d smacked Logan ruthlessly, he basically just touched Virgil’s shoulder with it.

Virgil squinted at him.

“Bap!” Patton said again, smacking him once more, this time with a little bit more force and on the cheek. Virgil’s nose scrunched up. “Pillow fight!”

“Pillow fight?”

“You try,” he said, pointing to the pillow in Virgil’s lap.

Virgil glanced down at the bands around his wrist. “Um…” he said. “I don’t think I can?”

“Oh, right,” Patton said with a frown. He bit his lip and glanced over at Logan. “Maybe…”

“Ill-advised,” Logan said.

“But…” Patton said. “Pillow fight.”

“We would have to be very cautious and make sure there were no weapons in the area.”

“No weapons but pillows!”

“Fine,” Logan relented to whatever was going on. “Let’s clear the area.” Virgil watched them with mounting confusion as they removed everything within a few meters radius of him except for pillows and blankets.

“There!” Patton said after a minute. “All done!”

“What are you doing?” Virgil said.

“We’re going to have a pillow fight,” Patton said.

“But I…”

“We’ll temporarily allow your restraints to be in the third setting like when you’re in the closet.”

Were they serious? Were they stupid? Virgil could have killed them dozens of times with the second setting and now they were giving him even more range of motion?

“You have to promise not to try to hurt anyone though,” Patton said. Virgil stared at him dumbly, as Patton held out his pinky finger. “Pinky promise.”

“Pinky promise?”

Patton nodded solemnly. “We lock pinky fingers and make a promise. It’s the most binding promise in the universe.”

Virgil looked at his finger, confused. He’d never heard of that type of deal. “What kind of magic is it?”

“No magic,” Patton said. “Just friendship.” Virgil tilted his head but brought his hand up so Patton could twine their fingers together. “Now, promise you won’t hurt anyone.”

“I promise I won’t hurt anyone,” he said.

“It’s a deal!” said Patton, squeezing Virgil’s finger with his own briefly before drawing away. “I trust you.” Virgil felt a rush of something that was no type of magic he’d ever come into contact before but was definitely far more powerful.

Logan came over to them and waved his hand over the restraints on Virgil. They buzzed slightly and Virgil looked between them. “So, I just hit you with pillows?”

“Try not to hit too hard near the face, and Lo and I should probably take off our glasses before we start, but yeah,” Patton said, taking his glasses off as he said it. It was yet another foolish move on his part. “It’s fun, and it doesn’t hurt.”

“Okay…” Virgil said.

“I will demonstrate,” Logan said as he took a pillow and smacked Patton in the stomach.

“Hey! No fair!” Patton giggled. “We haven’t started yet!” This did not deter Logan however, as he continued to smack Patton with a pillow.

“On the contrary,” he said. “It has started, and we’re getting you first.”

“No,” Patton whined, but the way he crumpled to the ground under the onslaught seemed far too staged to make Virgil worry. He didn’t even try to curl up into a ball or protect his head, just taking the hits and giggling.

Logan looked up at Virgil and motioned with his head. Virgil inched over and looked down at Patton. Logan slowed for a few moments. “Go on,” he urged.

Virgil bit his lip and reached forward to smack Patton lightly with his pillow which seemed to do nothing to him but renew his peels of giggles. From there, it was easy to continue. Logan picked up the pace of his strikes and he and Virgil proceeded to ‘fight’ Patton until he couldn’t breathe through his laughter and pushed the pillows away, curling up on his side to recover. Virgil took the cue from Logan to cease their attack.

“Now what?” Virgil asked when Patton sat up.

“Now I get vengeance!” Patton said, popping to his feet and smacking Logan in the face. “Help me Virgil!” So, Virgil turned on Logan and he and Patton gave the prince the same treatment. Then, because it was only fair, it was Virgil’s turn, though they were a lot more careful with him then they’d been with each other, and really Patton spent more of the time checking in on Virgil then actually hitting him with the pillow. It was nice. Fun. And when Virgil pushed them away, they pulled back.

Then, it was Patton’s turn again and they went around teaming up on each other and sometimes just smacking at each other at random.

Eventually, they slowed, and all ended up laying near each other on the floor.

“Well, that made me hungry,” Patton said, sitting up and stretching. “I asked Mama to make us a bunch of mini sandwiches. I’ll go get them.”

He hopped to his feet to walk over to where they’d stored the food earlier in those little glowing magical balls Logan had for food preservation.

Logan and Virgil sat up too, and Virgil offered him his wrists.

“Right,” Logan said with a blink. He made a motion and Virgil could feel the magic weighing down his hands once again. He’d almost forgotten, Virgil thought with an internal sigh. They’d given an assassin free range of motion, had a pillow fight with him, and almost forgotten to restrain him again. What was Virgil going to do with these idiots?

Want to read more? Click below!

AO3 Part 15

[stormcrawler75]

For the prompt thingy, Reluctant Caretaker With Janus and Infant!Patton? (Aka sunshine pure baby and unqualified papa)

Characters: Janus, Patton, Virgil, mentions of Logan, Remus, and Roman

Warnings: Coma, drunk driving, bruises, stitches

“Unnnnnnnnn’caaaaaaaaa, ‘Anu!”

Janus groaned, cracking his eyes open and rubbing at his eyes sleepily. He glanced at his alarm clock and after blinking a few times, he groaned again when he saw just how early it was. “Fucking- ugh,” he muttered, rubbing his hand down his face. He sighed and got up, slowly walking out of the room.

“Unnnnnnnnn’caaaaaaaaa, ‘Anu!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Janus muttered, yawning so hard that his jaw clicked. He walked into the room that had been nothing but a guest room a few days ago - when things had still been normal and Janus didn’t have to worry about raising a baby - and to the old crib that he had gotten three splinters setting up. 

His nephew was standing up in the crib and looking up at Janus with wide eyes and a bright grin. He bounced up and down and made grabby hands at Janus. “Un’ca ‘Anu’, up! Up!”

Janus yawned and picked Patton up, bracing him against his hip. “Yes, Uncle Janus is up now. Though, the fact that either of us is up at four fifteen is a crime,” he told the one-year-old seriously. 

And in return for the great wisdom that he had given his nephew, Patton reached up and grabbed Janus’ nose. Well... Janus supposed that he had gotten worse feedback from people who he had given advice to.

“Alright now, no playing games now,” Janus hummed sleepily, gently moving Patton’s hand away and walking out of the used-to-be-a-guest-room. He glanced out the window and sighed. The stupid sun could already be seen peeking up over the horizon. “Are you hungry? Is that why you woke me up?”

“’anna ‘ee Daddy,”

Janus froze right at the top of the stairs, feeling like he had just been slapped. He had been so good pushing back and ignoring the heart-crushing grief, confusion, and helplessness that the last few days had brought. And with three words, his one-year-old nephew had almost completely toppled all the walls that Janus had put up to try and cope. Janus took a shaky breath, eyes burning with unshed tears. “I’m afraid that you can’t see your Daddy right now,” he said softly, walking down the stairs. “You’re living with me for now, Patton. I... will explain in the morning, okay?”

Patton gave him a look with so much of Virgil’s stubbornness that Janus almost let out a sob. Virgil had barely had Patton for a year and his son was already so much like him. 

“For now, let’s think of better things,” Janus said with forced chipper in his voice. He walked into the kitchen grabbed a small box of cheerios from his cupboard. “Even though it’s far too early to be up and awake, five o’clock is also the time when the old cartoons come on. I used to watch these shows with your daddy when I was just a toddler and he was your age.” He managed a weak smile as he walked into the living room. “Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“Yes,” Patton chirped, grinning at Janus widely that wrinkled the stark white bandaid that he had gotten at the hospital. “Yes!”

Janus chuckled, sitting down in his favourite old armchair, shifting Patton so he was in one arm so he could open up the box of cheerios. “Did you watch these shows with your daddy? Or did Mr. Lawyer show his son more serious shows? Educational programs?” He got a blank stare in response and decided that it was far too early in the morning to use big words with his nephew. So instead he just switched the channel until he found old reruns of ‘The Bugs Bunny and Tweety Show”.

Besides, Patton’s excited cry of, “T’eety!” made Janus think that maybe this wasn’t the first time he had watched these shows.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Janus’ shoes clicked against the hospital tiles, the only sound in the eerily quiet hallway. He could hear distant coughs and the quiet sound of people talking but here, in the long term care section of the hospital at eight o’clock in the morning, there wasn’t much noise. And it made Janus so sad. His poor baby brother didn’t belong in a place like this.

He stopped outside the last door in the hallway, knocking gently at the half-open door. “Good morning,” he said softly, walking in and draping his coat over one of the chairs. He sat down with a sigh. “I’m sorry that I’m here so early but your son woke me up at four AM. I left him with my friends so I can come to see you. Please don’t worry about your son, Virgil. Logan and Remus are good people and they already love Patton." He took off his bowler hat and put it in his lap, tapping his finger against it gently. “Do you have anything to say about that?”

Of course Virgil didn’t. Though, Janus supposed that he couldn’t be too upset with his brother. It was rather hard to speak with tubes down your throat. And the fact that Virgil was in a coma made it even harder, Janus was sure.

Virgil was lying completely still on his hospital bed, looking strangely peaceful. He didn’t seem bothered at the dark purple bruises on his cheeks or the stitched-up cut on his forehead. And then Janus remembered how he had looked a few days ago when he had first been brought to the hospital and had to look away.

“Your friend Roman came to my house the other day,” Janus said, forcing himself to continue. He had to speak talking. He feared what would come out of his mouth if he didn’t. “I must say, Roman may not be as interesting as his brother but he is a good lawyer. He’s pushing me to press charges and he is assuring me that I would have a very good case.” He snorted and shook his head. “Though, I suppose that you don’t have to be a good lawyer to know that driving while is against the law.”

When there was no response to his words, Janus sighed and reached forward, gently putting a hand over Virgil’s bruised one. “Do you remember how happy I was when you made me Patton’s Godfather,” he whispered softly and with a slight tremble to his words. “Well, I change my mind. Virgil... I have no idea how to care for a baby. You have to wake up so you can raise your son. Please.” He laughed and blinked, vision turning a little blurry. “I am begging, Virgil. You have to wake up. I can’t do this. I don’t know how to do this.”

The only response Janus received was the steady beeping of Virgil’s heart monitor. It looked like Janus was on his own for now.

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[justslowdown]

4, 8, 12, 28! 🧡

4) Do you have plans to add another dog to the family?

There are a few possible litters I'm keeping an eye on! All out of dogs I've been following and like a lot as individuals. I believe most will be 2022 or 2023. Depending on timing and how many dogs I had when they arrived, some would be co-owns

Scotch collie Tamaskan outcross with a dam I met who's absolutely perfect (🤞 but idk if it's still planned)

Wolf-look-alikes with a dam I also met who's temperament I LOVE (she's SO sweet and delightful!)

I would prefer to import a Nenets laika from an actual Indigenous person than buy from the guy who has them here, but.... financially and logistically way out of reach for years. So if his pair do manage to have a litter, I'm all in. He's also considering breeding the Nenets laika stud to either a northern breed lurcher x Karelian bear dog, or a northern breed lurcher x Shikoku Ken

With Gigi and Kiwi, I'm full up on herding breeds 😅 So looking at spitz/northern/primitive types who are more likely to have a human-oriented, "easier" personality

I need to see how the Kespaps turn out to plan farther along in the Little Spitz Friend project. I won't keep any of those but hoping to co-own, and Pip will have one!

8) Do you have any “saved” names for future dogs?

Nope! I still like Cricket and a couple others I considered for Kestrel. Another bird name would be fun. There are some characters I'd use but I'd worry about not liking the thing down the road

I am VERY bad at naming dogs

Gigi = her co-owners and I shrugged and shortened her litter name ..... @blueboyluca suggested Kiwi's

12) A breed you used to hate, but now love?

Not a breed but goldendoodles! When I was really into rescue I hated "designer dogs" bc I thought they were just a pet store type moneymaker. Even once I got over it I didn't really click with pure goldens or poodles

But I fell SO in love with some goldendoodles I worked with regularly. Sweet sweet angel gooey babies who had some poodle brain instead of golden elevator music

I think about this dude all the time. Almost two years later. So far from my taste in dogs but ��

28) Something your dog did recently that made you smile?

Gigi was so excited to see me after she came inside that I sat down on the floor so she could hug me. She wiggled onto my lap and flopped around til she fell off. Then it was belly rub time

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Roguish Women Part 42

Summary: Kate is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and  playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 42: Tommy needs Kate’s assistance to find out where Alfie stands during the vendetta

            “Kate.” A few days later, Tommy tried to wake up his fiancée.

            “Mm, what?” She groaned, still half asleep.

            “Time to get up.” He went back to getting dressed.

            Kate rolled over in the small bed and grabbed his watch off the night table. She scoffed at the time. “Might be time for you to get up, Thomas, but you’ll never find me awake at this godforsaken hour.” She replied, hellbent on staying in bed. “Polly says I need rest.”

            “I need your help with something,” Tommy answered and walked back over to the bed after he finished buttoning his shirt.

            “Help with what?” She yawned, pulling the quilt back over herself.  

            “I’ll tell you when you get up.”

            “Ha, think I’d fall for that trick.” She reached up to grab his shirt collar and pulled him towards her.

            Tommy wasn’t exactly weak, but when it came to Kate showing him affection, he could cave in pretty easily. Maybe it was because they had gone years knowing each other, but never being able to show their genuine feelings. Now, no matter how long they’d been together, every touch felt like a gift. He knew what it was like to be without her, and that was basically hell for him. So, to have her in his arms, showering him with affection? Well, there weren’t many things that could pull him away.  

            Kate successfully got him back into bed, which may or may not have been her intention all along. She straddled his waist and kissed his neck, reveling in the small noises he made for her and the way his fingers dug into her hips.

            “I bet you wish you could do this every morning. Start your day off with a good fuck.” She murmured against his collarbone. “Shame you wake up so early. If you slept in a little, maybe we could make this more of a regular thing.” Her hands traveled down to his trousers.

            He chuckled deeply and kissed her. No one else had such an intoxicating presence. Within moments he completely forgot why they were even having the conversation, to begin with.

            Then, a loud car horn from outside interrupted their little early morning fun. And everything came back to Tommy.

            “Fuck.” He sighed. “That’ll be Alfie, then.”

            Kate looked disappointed but relented. Alfie was the last person to wait patiently for anything. “Alright, give me a minute to be dressed, I’ll be out in a moment.” She rolled off Tommy and stood up to go to the dresser.

            Tommy righted himself, making sure he didn’t appear disheveled, and grabbed his coat off the chair. As he left, he paused, getting a good look of Kate as she slipped off her nightgown.       

            Another horn from outside, a bit longer this time, traveled in through the window. “For fuck’s sake.” He muttered Why couldn’t he have told Alfie to come later?

            Kate felt his eyes on her. “He’ll only keep going, you better get down there.” She replied.

            Tommy grumbled a few expletives before shutting the bedroom door. When he hit the stairs, the car horn sounded again, but it seemed unending. He trotted down the stairs and went out the front door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Outside, he found Alfie pressing the horn relentlessly, with his pocket watch out. He didn’t give up until Tommy was across the street and right in front of him.

            “Morning, Alfie.”

            “You know, Tommy mate, if you need an extra hour to get dressed up to look like a prick, then you ought to schedule that in. Bit rude to be late, innit?” Alfie glanced over Tommy’s shoulder. “Where’s your other half then, aye? Said she’d be here. Since you lot have imprisoned yourselves, I’ve had to handle all of her responsibilities with shipments.”

            “She’ll be down in a moment. I’m sure she wishes she could go back to London.” He replied as diplomatically as he could. That’s when he noticed the large young man standing a few feet behind Alfie. “This must be Goliath.”

            “Yeah, mate. So, have we got a match set up, or what? Y’know coming all the way out here because of a possibility really ain’t something I usually do. S’a gesture of friendship, innit?” Alfie placed a hand over his chest. “That I’d be willing to come to fucking Small Heath, which apparently is hell on Earth if I’ve ever seen it, risk being shot by fucking Italians, all to be nice.”

            Tommy was about to make a glib comment but was interrupted by Kate coming outside. “Was that you making all that noise, Alfie?” She smiled.

            “Your fiancée, right, can’t keep his appointments well, love. It’s all about being punctual.” Alfie replied though he seemed to be happy to see her.

            “It was my fault, I kept him.”

            “Shall we then?” Tommy stepped in before Alfie could make a brash comment about what Kate was doing to hold him up.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

            Kate hadn’t yet seen the gin being distilled in the basement of one of the properties Tommy owned on Watery Lane. She had meant to after he told her why he was asking Alfie over telegram about the liquor. Like everything Tommy did, it was no small operation.

            While he and Alfie talked, Kate made herself at home taking a seat at the table toward the back of the basement. She uncorked one of the bottles to smell it.

            “Now we ain’t here to talk ‘bout sides or any of that nonsense.” Alfie made his way over to the table alongside Tommy. “What good will that do, aye? I’m on me own side, right? I don’t fuck about with all this labeling and such.”

            “You know he needs to know that you won’t betray us, Alfie,” Kate spoke up. “You know how vendettas work. It’s never just about two sides.”

            “Well, that’s the question, ain’t it? But what kind of world is it to raise your children when your own mate can ask that sort of question. Hm?” Alfie tutted.

            “I think we’ll do alright.”

            Tommy cleared his throat. There was no need for speculating over Kate’s pregnancy. Alfie was perceptive enough to pick up on subtle hints. “You’re not allied with the Italians.”

            “Fuck no.”

            “You have ties to the Forty Elephants who are very close to us as well. I would say that lumps you in with our side, Alfie.”  

            “Well, that is just a foolish thing to assume.” Alfie took a bottle of gin off the table. He inspected the label as he spoke. “I know who I should or shouldn’t bother with. The Forty Elephants, they’re-well fuck you know them well enough-but they’re like fucking demons they are. Cut a man’s balls off just for looking at them. Would I rather be on their good side? ‘Course, makes me life a lot fucking easier. But I ain’t looking out for their best interest if it conflicts with my best interest.”

            “Oh, come on, you’re not that cold.” Kate protested. She was wondering if the vendetta had pushed the Camden Town man back a bit. Of course, he always looked out to preserve himself. That hadn’t changed. But Kate knew that he could be fond of people and wanted to help them from time to time. Maybe he was worried that during a vendetta, being kind could be misconstrued as weakness.

            “We’re all selfish creatures, sweetheart. It’s just a matter of survival in this day and age.” He glanced around the room. “Besides, I don’t see the Forty Elephants here. So, what kind of allies are they really?”

            “They’re carrying out business for us in London,” Kate replied, instantly coming to the defense of the women she considered good friends.

            “And we have a kestrel,” Tommy added.

            “Yeah? What’d you reckon, Kate?” Alfie turned back to her. “You’ve known him longer than I have. What made him change?”

            “Change?” She frowned. “What do you mean?”

            “When I first heard about Tommy Shelby, right, big bad man who killed Billy Kimber, I assumed he was the kind of man who did his own dirty work.” A coy smile played on Alfie’s lips. There was nothing he loved more than to make fun of Tommy. He didn’t get to do it enough those days. “Now he’s sending out contract killings like some sort of aristocrat. Can’t be arsed to get his hands bloody.”

            “I don’t think aristocrats hire contract killers, Alfie.” Kate wasn’t really planning on indulging him by teasing Tommy.

            “Don’t be naïve, love.”

            “Time’s are tough.” Tommy shrugged. “I have a family to protect and I can’t protect them if I’m dead.”

            “Well, I suppose that’s the difference between bachelors and the betrothed, innit?” Alfie lightened up a little, apparently satisfied that he’d poked enough fun. “When is the wedding then, aye?”

            “Sometime when we’re not being hunted like sport, Alfie,” Kate replied.

            “Well, I better be invited. Figure I earned that invitation a long time ago.” Alfie muttered and set the gin down.

            Tommy and Kate shared a small smile. She leaned back in the rickety chair and gave her friend a playful smile. “I’ll give you a plus one to the wedding if you want to bring someone along.”

            Alfie’s brow furrowed heavily over his blue eyes. “Who the hell would I bring, Ollie? You could try but I don’t think his wife would take too kindly to the idea. If that boy ever has a day off, she insists he spends it at home taking care of their heap of kids. Which, ain’t a day off in me opinion. I swear that lad has a new kid every time I turn ‘round. Can’t fucking keep track of them. I go over for Sabbath and I’m tackled by like thirty kids. Don’t know where the hell they come from.”

            Kate stifled a laugh. “Alfie, I’m talking about a date! A nice woman, not your poor assistant.”

            Alfie paused, apparently the idea had never crossed his mind. “Oh, dear, I don’t think you could find a good Jewish woman who would ever want to put up with me.” He replied.

            “Don’t challenge her,” Tommy warned. “If you tell her she can’t do something, she’s going to go out and do it.”

            “Tell ya what then. If all you Shelbys make it out of this alive, I’ll let Kate do whatever she pleases.”

            Kate looked very pleased with herself as she stood up. “Then I have my work cut out for me.”

            “You certainly do,” Tommy mumbled under his breath.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

            Tommy and Kate settled in for another night spent in Tommy’s old bedroom. There weren’t many remnants of his days as a teenager. A dirt poor, hand-me-down-wearing, rebellious young man who loved horses more than anything and had bright dreams. There were a few nicks in the wall or cracks in the ceiling that had been there as long as he could remember. There was a cross on the wall. Tommy couldn’t remember who put it there. Most likely it was Polly, but it might have even been his mother.

            Tommy didn’t have the heart to remove it, even if he was doubtful of God’s existence.

            In his desk, he had a few old letters, mostly from Greta Jurossi or cousins who were on the road. Mixed among the letters were some of Arthur’s old sketches of horses they once had. When he flipped through them, Tommy could name the horse his brother had drawn. The details were so precise.

            “What was that about, aye?” Tommy wondered as Kate began to undress to take a bath. The water was already steaming in the old bathtub.

            “What was what about?” She asked, pulling her hair up in a top bun.

            “With Alfie. You really think that man could ever have a normal relationship?” Tommy sat down at the desk, pulling his bracers off his shoulders to let them hang loosely by his hips.

            “Plenty of people would say the same thing about you.” She replied, stepping into the bath. “And yet here I am.”

            Tommy chuckled. Seeing her concerned about something as superfluous as Alfie’s love life. He lit up a cigarette and shook his head.

            “You don’t think there’s someone out there for him? There’s someone out there for everyone.” She argued, sinking into the warm water.

            “Hm.” He didn’t agree but he didn’t disagree either. He stood up and pulled up his chair to the edge of the tub.

            “You don’t believe me.”

            “I didn’t say that.”

            “Thomas Shelby, I can read you better than anyone. You don’t need to say anything to me, I already know what you’re thinking.” She replied confidently. “And you cannot argue that.”

            He smiled. Only she could lure his mind away from the worrying thoughts of threats to his family. Only she could convince him that everything could be alright even just for one night. Only she could quiet his mind so well. “What am I thinking now, then?” He asked coyly.

            “How you wish I would get out of this tub and into your bed.” She replied. “So that you can finish what I started this morning.”

            “Aye? Making me late this morning, that’s what you did.”

            She giggled and grabbed his shirt to pull him closer. Water bled into the starchy fabric of his shirt cuff. Tommy felt like he was melting as he kissed her. The steamy warmth from the bath radiated from her skin. It felt like she was cleansing his entire being.

            “But I’m going to take my time in here.” She murmured against his lips. “So, you could wait, or just get in with me.”        

            It was a game and Tommy knew that. Kate was banking on his tendency to be impatient when it came to her. He had wasted so much time without her. So, he groaned as if he was inconvenienced and stood up to start stripping off his clothing.

            Kate leaned forward so he could sink into the bath behind her. When she leaned back against his chest, she sighed. “That’s more like it.”

            He chuckled. “Always gets what she wants, aye?” He wrapped his arms around her waist.

            She only hummed in agreement, letting her eyes slip close. Her fingers entwined with his and she rested his palm flat against her stomach. “Think there’s a difference? I haven’t been able to tell.”

            Tommy knew Kate’s body better than anyone, maybe even herself. Perhaps he was just imagining things, but he swore he could feel a slight swell of her abdomen. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

            “You think?” She beamed. He looked at her with such fondness in his eyes that her cheeks flushed. “They’re lucky to have you as their dad.”

            Tommy paused for a long while, dissecting what she was telling him in a cryptic fashion. “They?”

            Kate watched his expression change from confusion, to realization, to shock. She giggled softly. “Polly said it’ll be twins.”

            For a moment, he just stared at her. He wasn’t sure there had ever been an instance of twins in his family, at least not in a few generations. One baby was one thing, but two? He let out a nervous laugh. “Fuck, well you’ve never done anything half-way have you? ‘Course the first time you get pregnant it’s twins.” He teased. “Surprised it’s not triplets.”

            She grinned. “Well, I wasn’t planning on having more than one at once, you know. Remember I passed out when Ada was giving birth? Now I’ve got to do it myself and I have to do it twice over.”

            Tommy couldn’t stop smiling. Twins were no easy task, he could imagine. But there was nothing else he could be but happy

           “You’ll be alright.” He promised. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

            She kissed him softly. “You’re sweet.”

            “Did Pol say what the genders were?”

            “Two boys.”

            Tommy closed his eyes and let out a little laugh. “Christ. Two more Shelby boys. I’m surprised Polly didn’t up and leave when she told you. She barely survived us growing up.”

            “She was very happy,” Kate informed him. “Besides, they’ll be my sons too. At least half the time they’ll be well behaved.”

            “Love, you’ve never been well behaved a day in your life.”

            There was no arguing that. “They may be terrors but they’ll be lovely. They’ll be beautiful, I know they will. With your blue eyes and maybe your hair.”

            “What if they’re identical?” Tommy circled his thumb around her hip bone as the water began to become cooler. “Won’t be able to tell ‘em apart.”

            “I’m sure we will. At least I will. Mother’s intuition, right?”

            He laughed and stood up to grab Kate’s towel. He offered her a hand to help her up and into the warm embrace of a towel that had been heating up by the fire. “I guess we can only hope so.” It was nice to share such a moment with her. Especially since the next day, he was planning to go to war. 

Permanent tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe @evelynshelby

Tag list: @radical-gecko @actorinfluence @meltingicequeen @merlettina​ 

@w1nterchild​

Masterpost

PB Masterlist

[lifblogs]

Whumpay 2021: Day 7 - Mercy

Together We Will Grow

read on ao3 2771 words star wars, rogue one, cassian andor/jyn erso, canon-typical violence, angst

Great. Just great! Of course Imperial troopers had caught up to her. It wasn’t as if she had done that much! Well, she’d drunk an officer under the table and he had ended up dying of alcohol poisoning, she’d stolen an Imperial freighter along with all its weapons, had sold the weapons and the ship, and had had the ship stripped down for parts, and oh, she’d attacked three troopers after they’d tried arresting her for forgery of scandocs. So maybe she had done quite a bit. Really, Kestrel Dawn was out on her luck.

The stormtroopers that were after her had decided using stun prods was more acceptable than just stunning her with a blaster. For one, it was more fun for them, and for two… well, that was about the only reason.

Out of breath, hoping she’d lost her pursuers in the chaos of the market, Kestrel hid behind a stack of crates holding joguns. She brushed her dyed auburn hair out of her face, blowing out heavy breaths. Her heart raced.

“Check down that alley,” she heard one of the stormtroopers say, voice filtered through the helmet.

Kriff. Kriff!

Her stomach decided to grumble at that time (when had her last meal been? Three days ago?), so, thinking it best to multi-task, she grabbed as many joguns as she could and stuffed them into the bag she had over her shoulder.

The clatter of the stormtrooper’s boots against the hard ground was getting closer. He was about to be right on top of her.

Kestrel grabbed one of the purple fruits and threw it in his general direction—not taking time to aim—and then she knocked the crates over.

She ran for it.

“Hey, get back here!”

To her surprise, the stormtrooper fired at her, and she dodged. The blast hit the corner of a building, spraying bits of broken stone into the air. Some of the debris hit her face, slicing through her left cheek, and just above her eye.

Damn it! So the blasters weren’t set to stun. That had to be against some regulation or other, but what would the Empire care?

The blood welled up fast, and began to drip down to her eye. Now blinded in one eye, the blood stinging, she didn’t see the other stormtrooper coming from around the corner at the end of the alley that led back into the market.

She was hit with a stun prod. A choked scream left her at the pain, and she went down, colliding with the hard ground. Her head smacked against hard-packed dirt and sand, leaving stars in her vision. A small part of her worried about the fruit in her pack, and hoped they hadn’t cracked open. She told herself it was because the juice could ruin her datapad, but really, despite the pain she was in, it was difficult to forget her hunger.

Training kicked in as Kestrel heard the other trooper rush to help her current attacker, and she ignored the pain, tried to breathe into it. She unclipped her truncheon from her belt, while hooking her foot behind the trooper’s calf and having him go down.

In moments, she was up on her feet, kicking the stun prod out of his hands, and kicking his helmet off. Seeing the young face beneath did nothing to deter her, and she kicked him into unconsciousness. Showing mercy to these scum wasn’t an option, not when they would surely throw her in prison, and not when they could take her to someone higher up who might discover her true name.

She was shot at again, but a well-aimed throw with the helmet had the second trooper drop his blaster. He lunged at her, trying to grab her, and she whacked him in the solar plexus with the truncheon. Her blows landed quick and hard. He got a few blows in, punching her in the face, leaving her already-cut cheek throbbing relentlessly.

He started calling for backup, revealing her position.

Terrified, Kestrel wrested his stun prod from him. She powered it on, whacking him right in the neck with it. He went down, and for good measure, she held the prod to his throat, right in between the white plastoid of his armor. His body jerked, choked cries eventually going silent. Kestrel didn’t take the time to see if he was alive. She didn’t care.

Deciding to keep the stun prod with her, she clipped it to her belt with her truncheon, blew her auburn hair out of her face, and started heading to the docks. She’d have to steal a ship, but that was nothing new to her.

When she was Jyn Erso she wouldn’t have been able to do any of this, but Jyn Erso had been hurt and abandoned. She’d learned, and for now, she was Kestrel Dawn, and Kestrel wasn’t about to let herself be put in an Imperial prison. If that took showing no mercy, then so be it.

~~~

Joreth Sward was having a really bad day. It had started out fairly normal: he’d been bullied by Admiral Grendreef into getting him some caf (yes, Joreth was his assistant, but that was beneath him), organizing his datapads, and gathering some other employees beneath him for further bullying.

Things had really changed when the oh-so-merciful admiral decided to dock at a civilian station in the Midrim. He was to make a prisoner pick-up. Joreth had been given the list of names just to make sure that when they collected the prisoners, all of them would be there.

Making sure no one had been following him, he made his way to a computer terminal, looped the camera to show the compartment empty as it had been before his arrival, and logged in. He managed to get past the firewalls put in place so lowly assistants like himself couldn’t get at the real information. He searched the Imperial database for the prisoners, wondering why they had been waylaid for such a task. Surely someone else could’ve been sent for prisoner pick-up? It wasn’t strictly in an admiral’s duties.

The list of names was long, but after the fifth name he was sure he had all the information he needed. The prisoners were scientists: engineers, and at least one physicist. Further digging had shown that they had been working in sustainable energy and had been taken prisoner by the Empire to be forced into work on some sort of project called Celestial Power. It seemed straightforward enough, but this task had been marked as high importance.

He’d have to call this in.

Joreth took out his datapad and began to download the information. He’d put a binary lock on his info so his information couldn’t be accessed and drawn back to him. Once hooked in, he waited, slightly nervous, for the information to download. A beep sounded from the terminal to let him know the download was complete, and he removed his datapad.

Once done with that he cleared the log and history. He hadn’t completed all his training with computer terminals, so for now, that would have to do. By the time anyone thought to search for the missing information, he would hopefully be long gone.

Now to make his way to comms.

Datapad in hand, Joreth hurried through the ship, putting on a flustered look as if Admiral Grendreef had just sent him on another wild bantha chase. The Imperials had the brain cells to get out of his way.

The comms center wasn’t empty (it never was), but he’d be using codes anyway, so it shouldn’t be a problem.

Joreth passed on the information to his commander, and then he was given a single order: Terminate the prisoners.

It was that order that ruined his day.

So here Joreth now was, standing before cell block B, lying through his teeth to some stormtrooper guards.

One of them stepped closer to him, not yet buying what he was saying, “These prisoners are to be interred until we reach base DS-1; no one allowed in or out.”

Joreth did his best to look annoyed, even as sweat began to run down his back, and he was sure his hands were shaking. To hide it, he clasped them behind his back.

“I know what your original orders were, but the admiral wants them inspected and logged again, and he’s having a very bad day. Would you like to take it up with him?”

Thank god Admiral Grendreef had a horrible reputation, because the two troopers looked at each other, clearly questioning what to do. No one wanted to be on Grendreef’s bad side. His temper usually ended with someone facing a firing squad.

“Why did he send his assistant to do it?”

Joreth gave them a smile, trying to put them at ease. “I haven’t poisoned his caf yet, so I think he trusts me,” he joked.

“I’d poison his caf,” the one on Joreth’s right muttered, somewhat amused.

“Check yourself, trooper.”

“What? Comms are off.”

Joreth cleared his throat.

“He wants it done now.”

Surprisingly, the one who had joked about poisoning the admiral said, “I don’t know. We should take it up with our superior.”

“And who do you think he answers to?” Joreth asked.

This was taking too long, and he could tell they weren’t buying it.

“Fine, I didn’t want to have to do this,” he said, his accent slipping, his pronunciations of words becoming softer rather than similar to the clipped Coruscanti style.

“Huh?”

Joreth kicked a blaster out of one stormtrooper’s hand, and the other raised his own to fire. It wa easy getting inside his defenses, and he was able to disarm him, along with elbowing him in the gut hard enough to faze him.

Step one was to get the weapons. Step two… disable comms. These bucketheads had the comms right in their helmets, so he didn’t feel at all bad for shooting them at point blank range.

It was over before it had barely started.

He ran a hand over his face, and through his dark hair, trying to settle himself. He had to do this.

And he didn’t have a lot of time. The guards had to check-in each system cycle, which was fifteen minutes. He’d checked his chrono before coming down here, and he checked it again now. He’d wasted about four and a half minutes arguing with them, so he barely had ten minutes left.

What was the Rebellion even thinking asking him to do this? Joreth wasn’t an executioner! But today, he had to be. He had orders.

So he got to work. A vibroblade would be quieter, but then he’d leave a trail of blood. So the blaster would have to do.

One by one he executed the prisoners, pushing all feelings aside, not thinking about what he was doing. No mercy. There couldn’t be any mercy if they were to win against the Empire. Yet why did winning include killing innocent prisoners?

When he was finished with the job he was sweaty, and shaky, and felt like he could barely breathe. Yet he managed to drag the bodies of the stormtroopers into one of the cells after stripping one of his armor. He donned the armor, and then it was time for a check-in. Joreth’s voice sounded fake and dead to his ears as he called in the attack. Hopefully they’d believe it long enough for him to get off this horrid ship. After all, he had left one of the blasters with a prisoner. A prisoner whose blood was soaking the floor, and—

Stop. Stop. Focus.

In the chaos that ensued, Joreth managed to sneak away, and he made his way off the ship. Once he was away from Imperial controlled space, he took off the armor, and sat down with his head in his hands, trying to hold in tears. He was in a stolen shuttle, and had already done everything he could to make sure it couldn’t be tracked. He’d have to dock before reaching his destination on Atollon to refuel and get supplies. He was so tired, exhausted down to his very marrow by what he had done.

But kriff, he still had a job to do. He had to report in. Wiping at his eyes, then staring at his hands, half-expecting for there to be blood on them, he pressed the comms button and dialed in his code to reach base.

It was a relief to drop the accent, to let Joreth Sward slip away, as he said, “Captain Andor to base 1. Checking in.”

“Base 1 to Captain Andor, reading you loud and clear.”

“It’s done,” Cassian said, voice numb even with the rich accent. “Tell General Draven that the prisoners have been terminated.”

“Right away, sir. Base 1 out.”

“I did it for the Rebellion,” Cassian whispered to himself in the quiet of the shuttle, the quiet of space.

No one was there to assure him that it had been the right thing. It must have been, so he locked all his feelings away, and he settled in for the long journey ahead.

~~~

Blast this rain! It was pouring down hard, getting in Cassian’s eyes, obstructing his view of Galen Erso. Bodhi had left, so now he had a job to do.

It was difficult to get a pin down on Galen. There seemed to always be something in the way. Cassian counted his breaths as he waited for the right moment, as he tried to get a precise lock on his target. He’d have to get him in the head. That was the only way to be completely sure.

Galen was talking to a man in white. Did his eyes deceive him, or was that Director Orson Krennic? There had been rumors about him, that he was the one in charge of this weapon that had been tested on Jedha. Cassian’s trigger finger twitched, a deep, dark part of him wanting to take him out too. He wanted to take them all out. For what they were planning to do, for what they had already done to Jedha!

But no, that wasn’t the plan. The plan was to assassinate Galen Erso, stop him before the weapon could be complete.

Yet, as he lay there amongst the dark, wet rocks, soaked through to his skin, Cassian didn’t take the shot.

There was something wrong with his orders. Jyn had spoken of her father, and what he saw now, with him protecting his engineers, he wasn’t the monster the Rebellion thought.

He’s still a danger, a liability.

Still, Cassian couldn’t pull the trigger. He showed mercy, and maybe it was because of Jyn Erso. ~~~

Jyn put up the bare minimum of a fight as Cassian stopped her from going to Krennic. She wanted to kick him, stomp his head in. For killing her father, for Jedha, for everything. But Cassian pulled her away, and she listened to the insistence in his body, the gentle urging that was somehow so comforting in that moment.

“Leave him,” Cassian told her.

And somehow, Jyn did just that. She told herself it was because she was sure Krennic was going to die anyway—something told her that she and Cassian were about to die—but perhaps she’d seen enough death for one day. Perhaps she had done enough terrible things in her life, and she wanted it to end.

As Jyn and Cassian helped each other walk, and they took the lift down from the spire, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. Away from this man that had shown her father mercy, and who had just taught her to do the same thing. She wanted to kiss him, but somehow, when their eyes met, she knew that what they had went far beyond that. In this moment, they were the two closest beings in the galaxy.

“Do you think anybody’s listening?” Cassian asked, desperation in his voice, in the way he clung to her.

“I do,” Jyn answered, voice filled with raw hope. “Someone’s out there.”

It had to all be worth something, and she believed it was. Her last act had been mercy, and giving hope to the Rebellion. To Jyn, that made it all worth it—the pain, the loss, the anger. She and Cassian had learned from each other, built off of each other, let their hope grow within one another.

As the Death Star came out of hyperspace within targeting range of Scarif, and her injuries began to take hold, that was all she could ask for.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

in aeternum, little lamb

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Word count: 4756

Prompt: “Look, I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone.”

———————

It was raining. Again.

Usually a rainstorm was serene and peaceful, normal for London, but there was a certain sticky humidity in the air that made going outside a chore. It was cold, yet uncomfortably warm at the same time with no wind blowing to ease the mild heat that has settled its oppressive, sultry murk over the city. It spilled into every street, every alleyway, every house that dared to open the window, thinking that it would help with the clamminess that fogged their home, but to no avail.

This, of course, brought upon complete and utter dreariness that coated every person making their rounds through their daily lives.

Anne’s forehead was dotted with beads of sweat by the time she arrived at the theater, only then really regretting her decision to walk to work. She hadn’t been expecting the humidity to be that bad, but here she was, feeling like she was leaking steam from every pore.

“God, this weather is miserable,” Jane was grumbling in her dressing room when Anne peeked in. She was currently attempting to tame her wild blonde hair (and losing the battle), which had a small (read as: large, high, anything but small) tendency to frizz up in high vaporous atmospheres like the one drenching London on that day.

“You look great, Jane.” Anne laughed, leaning on the doorframe. She gets a piercing grey glower shot in her direction, but isn’t phased by it. The coldness of the stare almost eased her internal temperature.

“Why is it so damn humid?” Jane finally exclaimed. “We live in London! Not Florida or whatever the fuck it’s called—”

Anne bit both lips, trying to hold back her laughter at the proper fit the queen before her was throwing.

“It’s supposed to be rainy and cold. Not rainy and a LITERAL SAUNA!”

Kitty, who was sitting nearby at her own makeup table, giggled softly. She got up and picked up a brush to help with her mother’s wild hair, which was definitely puffing up as if she were an angry cat or a distressed Studio Ghibli character.

“I don’t know, Jane,” Anne laughed slightly. “Well, I’m going to go get a cup of coffee. You two need anything?”

“Yeah,” Jane said. “A word with Mother Nature.”

Anne laughed again, waved a hand, and walked off to the break room.

Well- it wasn’t really a break room, per se. Theaters didn’t really have those. It was just an extra dressing room that nobody used and had a microwave, mini fridge, and coffee machine inside. In some way or another, a round bar table, small couch, and two beanbags ended up inside- Anne couldn’t really remember how they got there, but they were there and, thus, the room became a nice place to chat and relax when nothing was going on. Kitty had once even hid under the twin beanbags during a game of hide-and-seek (which was also her idea).

Upon stepping inside the break room, the scent of coffee bombarded Anne’s nose. The coffee machine was still on, but little was left in the pot. She walks over to it, thinking it was enough to sate her- she didn’t really like coffee, but she needed the extra rush to help her combat the dreariness the weather was inflicting upon her.

“Sorry,” A voice from behind suddenly said. “If I had known you wanted some, I would have made more.”

Anne actually jumped and she whirled around to see none other than the music director sitting in one of the beanbags. She jumped, too, and straightened up, nearly spilling the mug she had placed beside her pillowy seat.

“Sorry!” She said again. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Anne placed a hand over her racing heart and waved the other dismissively, laughing.

“It’s alright!” She assured the girl. “I didn’t see you at all!”

Joan smiled slightly, humoring her comment, then slumped back over to continue reading the book she had in her lap.

Anne studies her for a moment- as everyone said, Joan wasn’t much for conversation, despite always lurking on the edges of a group discussion. It was like she wanted to join in or just talk to someone, but didn’t have the courage to do so. Perhaps she was worried about being ignored or rejected, so, instead, she just watched in silence.

Maybe that’s why a few younger stagehands who were working there for college credit started calling her the “Theater Ghost.” Anne couldn’t really deny that that title wasn’t accurate- her not noticing the girl at all just proved that it was.

“Did you drink all of this?” She asked, trying to strike up a conversation to make things less awkward. Tenseness was as thick as the humidity outside in that room.

“It’s not that big of a pot...” Joan sort of mumbled.

So, yes. She did.

Anne frowned slightly. She vaguely knew of Joan’s caffeine addiction, but never really saw it first hand. She just knew that the girl drank more coffee than everyone working on the show combined.

“I see,” Anne chuckled. “Well, alright.”

She turned around while waiting for the pot to fill to see that Joan was looking at her. However, when she noticed, Joan snapped her head back down to her book. Anne furrowed her eyebrows.

“What are you reading?”

“Huh?” Joan seemed...surprised that Anne was asking her something. “Oh, it’s just- it’s just some silly book.” She kicked her leg anxiously against the beanbag, seemingly trying to hype herself up for something. “It’s, umm- it’s called Wings of Fire.”

She brandishes the book, keeping one finger inside the pages to mark her spot. On the cover was a flying gold and black dragon with four insect wings, spines along the back, and funny little glasses on the snout (something about dragons having eyesight care and possibly dragon eye doctors stood out as silly to Anne).

“It looks good,” Anne said after inspecting the picture.

“Oh, it is!” Joan said, perking up slightly. “It’s about these ten dragon tribes and five baby dragons were supposed to be born on The Brightest Night and be the Dragonets of Destiny to stop the war between three Sandwings fighting to be queen. So they’re kept underground, but their caretakers are kinda abusive and mean. Probably because the Skywing egg was destroyed so they had to replace it with a Rainwing egg, which are supposed to be the laziest tribe and that makes Kestrel- the really mean guardian- mad. So she’s kinda a jerk to the five dragonets. But then they break out of their cave before they’re supposed to leave when they’re six, because they have to wait until they’re seven, only to be captured by the Skywing queen! And they’re forced to fight to the death and they’re almost killed because this one character, Peril, can burn everything she touches! But then it’s revealed that Clay, he’s the Mudwing, has fireproof scales! And Glory, she’s the Rainwing I was talking about, can spit venom!! Then they escape and go to the Seawing kingdom and Tsunami- the Seawing- is actually the missing Seawing princess and a statue was killing all the other eggs. Then they go to the rainforest and Glory becomes queen and Starflight goes blind in the fourth book and the end of the war happens in the fifth!!” She’s babbling about a hundred miles per minute- Anne can barely keep up. “We should- we should read it together! If you’re interested. Like a book club! Except I’m on the twelfth book right now and I don’t know how fast you can read and I just basically spoiled the entire series, hahaha...but only for the first five!! But the next arc isn’t that good if you ask me. It completely throws everything that has happened out the window and just puts new characters in a school? Which they barely even stay at! So why even make the school, Tui? And my favorite character in that segment is in a coma for, like, three of the five books in that arc!! Arc three is pretty cool, though. I like the new tribes. And Sundew is supposed to be a lesbian! With an actual girlfriend! And it’s a main plot point!!” She’s beaming now. “I just���I think you would really, really like it and, I dunno...it would be fun! I can read it aloud? N-not because I think you can’t read or anything, I just—like talking. To someone. And to make sure you don’t doze off and miss any of the really good parts! Because there are SO MANY even though Tui doesn’t seem to remember any of her world building half of the time, but—”

“Joan?”

“Yeah?”

“Breathe.”

Joan’s face flashed deep crimson. She hunched her shoulders around her neck and ducked her head, almost using her book as a shield to hide herself. It seems she just realized that she had been talking the green queen’s ear off.

“Sorry,” She whispered. “I-I just thought that you wanted to...” She shook her head. Her hands clench around the sides of her book. “Nevermind.”

“Joan-”

“Your coffee is gonna get cold.”

Anne looked at the full coffee pot, then back to the girl, and then walked over to get herself a cup. She can hear Joan shifting anxiously in the beanbag behind her.

Honestly, she found the girl’s deep interest in what she was reading quite endearing, she just didn’t know how to reply to her monologue in a way that showed that she actually was interested in what she was saying.

“Maybe send me the link to the book sometime?” Anne offered while heading for the door. “Or if you have a physical copy...”

“Yeah,” Joan smiles thinly- weakly. “I have some at home. I’ll give them to you tomorrow.”

“Sounds great.”

“Oh, and— Anne?”

Anne stopped right as she was walking out.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

Joan looked down shyly, shifting her legs.

“For talking to me.”

———

“She thanked me. For standing there while she was ranting about a book!”

The other queens looked rather amused by the story they were given during dinner. It wasn’t exactly the reactions Anne was hoping for- was nobody else concerned by the oddity of the situation?!

“Joan’s a...quirky kid.” Jane merely said. “She’s always been a little strange, Anne. I’m almost positive she was raised by literal street rats, so that might have something to do with it. Rats aren’t exactly much for conversation.”

Anne looked at her in shock. Of everyone to say such a thing, she hadn’t expected it to come from Jane “Protective and Loving Mom Friend” Seymour.

“Did you just—”

“Anne,” Jane sighed. “You know what I’m talking about. She worked for you! She’s just a weird kid. Kids are weird!”

“‘Weird’ is when a kid likes to watch snails go over salt and get burned, Jane. Thanking someone for listening to them talk about a book is concerning.” Anne argued.

“Cathy does it all the time.”

“Cathy doesn’t thank us!”

Anne was really getting worked up over this and she wasn’t exactly sure why. She really only got this way for Kitty or Maggie- she theorized it was those maternal instincts kicking in or just a natural protectiveness for an ex-maid in waiting.

Whatever it was, it sure seemed to be amusing to the others.

“Okay, calm down, Anne.” Cleves said, laughing slightly. “We get it, you think it’s worrying. No need to start a food fight over it.”

“I’m not going to-” Anne broke off into agitated grumbling, which caused even more giggles in reaction.

“I said thank you to Catherine when I read to her yesterday,” Cathy said.

“That’s because you were asking her opinion on a chapter you wrote!” Anne struck back. “It is NOT the same thing!”

Cathy shrugged and took a bite out of her pork chop.

“It’s nothing you should stress about, Annie.” Kitty said. “Maybe some people are just meant to be alone!”

Anne gave her a look of disbelief.

“Like Henry.” Cleves put in helpfully.

“Like Henry, yeah!”

Now, don’t get Anne wrong, she loved her little found family with the queens very much, but, at that moment, she wanted to hit all of them with the salad bowl at the center of the table as hard as she could.

Maybe not Aragon, though (unfortunately). The woman hadn’t told Anne to forget about the situation or just move on- she was thoughtfully silent, eating her dinner in reserved peace. Whatever her opinion on the argument was, she didn’t say it.

Anne sighed, putting her head in one hand as she picked at her dinner until Aragon finally spoke up to tell her to get her elbow off the table. She begrudgingly obeys.

Like that, the conversation is dropped and something new, something Anne really didn’t care about was talked about.

After dinner, Anne decided to do some snooping on her laptop. First, she looked up historical information on Joan, only to find nothing. Every website was just the same thing over and over again- literally. It was just copied and pasted from the extremely short and vague Wikipedia page on the girl. The names of her parents weren’t even recorded, nor was any childhood information. There was barely even anything on her time as a lady in waiting, which only covered her work under Jane and not either of the cousins.

She had a son named Hercules, though. If that meant anything.

Next, Anne went to Joan’s Instagram page. It had several hundred followers, mainly from the fans who insisted on following everyone associated with the show, and was filled with the normal posts the actors usually had- although there were very few compared to the queen’s and other ladies in waiting’s accounts. Most of the photos were of her work or her playing the songs on her piano or of selfies of her in the band costume.

In almost all of them, she was completely alone.

Anne searched for something- she didn’t know what exactly, just something- in the seventh-five posts on the account, then went to the photos Joan was tagged in. There weren’t many- just group photos and a few good shots of her from a MegaSix and a single appreciation post (she vaguely remembered Joan telling them about it and how giddy it had made her...nobody had really listened to the babbling at the time).

And then Anne found a certain photo- the first one she was ever tagged in: it was a photo of her costume laid out on a table with the caption, “Here’s the lady in waiting costume! I’ll be posting about SIX more on my other account, so follow if you’re interested!”

The name of the account was @force-be-with-ewe.

Anne clicked on it.

force-be-with-ewe

i just really like drawing sheep

Johanna-She/her-Asexual lesbian-Musician and artist

That’s the first thing Anne saw when she clicked on the account, along with an adorable profile picture of a sheep playing a piano, then the whopping twelve followers (most of which were ghosts or bots) and three hundred and nine posts.

It took Anne just a moment to realize that this was Joan’s personal account.

And she went through all of it.

The profile was a mishmash of drawings and piano videos and sheep. The latest post was actually a photo of a bird with a caption talking about how the little guy had been visiting Joan’s bedroom window every morning and “giving her a reason to get up because she had someone looking forward to seeing her.” She maturely and proudly dubbed the bird “Minecraft.”

After that were drawings of dragons with #wingsoffire and #wof in the descriptions, leading Anne to believe that they were characters from the book she had been told about earlier that day.

And they just kept going.

Among videos of Joan playing the theater keyboard when presumably nobody was around, were drawings of sheep playing various instruments and sleeping and being adorable, drawings of more dragons, drawings of a few Pokémon (mainly Snom, Wooloo, and Sobble). There were stunning drawings of giant creatures from a game called “Subnautica” and beautiful drawings of castles and scenery. There were even drawings of the queens!

Usually fans would tag them in art, but it appeared that Joan was too shy to do that. So, instead, she just left them floating in her profile with no ways to see the masterpieces, since there weren’t any hashtags on those.

Anne was genuinely amazed by the attention to detail in the sketches of her and her fellow queens and even more amazed by the drawings with watercolors. She swore the painting’s eyes had more color than her own and the costume was as vibrant as the actual one in real life.

It was beautiful. They were all beautiful.

Why didn’t Joan want anyone seeing these?

Anne kept scrolling and eventually came upon rather...concerning posts.

The first was of a messy, but haunting colored pencil sketch of a pitch black ram with inky, bleeding red eyes that seemed to stare through the screen and directly into Anne’s soul. The caption simply said, “Black Philip.”

Another was a drawing of a blonde girl, presumably Joan, leaking coffee from every single orifice on her face and was drawn with such detail that it would easily make an emetophobic’s stoamch churn with nausea.

And then there were a few of an ice dragon, slightly similar to one of the dragon tribes from the book, but this one notably had more icicle spikes, frayed scales, and jagged wings. It was moon silver in color with ice blue hues and eyes like a raging blizzard.

All the drawings done with this beast, which was apparently named “Killer Frost” (and has no ties to the Flash character of the same name), were normal- just it laying around, flying, standing atop icebergs menacingly or breathing a freezing death breath. But there were a few that stood out to Anne as worrying.

The first was of Kitty, actually. She was wearing her show costume and her eyes were closed with a peaceful expression on her face. And then there was the glittering paw of the ice dragon reaching down from the top of the image and cupping one of her cheeks with its serrated, barbed claws. The caption read, “The Chosen One.”

The second and much more concerning drawing was captioned, “Envy truly is a deadly sin.”

It was a drawing of Killer Frost crouched in a feral position, staring forward with blazing eyes, jaw hanging open and teeth bared, absolutely soaked in blood.

There was just blood everywhere. Blood on the body, blood on the claws, blood dripping in horrifying realistic threads from the mouth, blood all over the blank, white floor beneath the beast, blood squirting from the remains of the carcasses that had presumably been gored.

The image left Anne with so many questions- What did this represent? Who were those corpses? Was Joan jealous? And if yes, who was she jealous of?

One thing was certain, though- Joan was startlingly good at drawing gore. A sketch of Killer Frost holding its own gooey, bloody esophagus and larynx in another photo just proved that. There was even one of the dragon ripping its own throat out while the faint outline of what appeared to be three ghosts encouraged it.

It was strange to see such mishmashes of horror shoved in between adorable sketches of sleeping baby lambs and fluffy Wooloos. It also left Anne with growing worry for the artist.

When she finally finished going through the profile, Anne decided the follow the account and became the thirteenth follower.

This time, thirteen would not be an unlucky number.

———

Five books were left on Anne’s dressing room table the next day, all with a colorful dragon on the cover, and a note that read, “I didn’t know if you only wanted one book or all of them, so I just left the first arc. Let me know what you think! :) -Joan”

“Fan mail?” Cleves asked, peeking over to the table from where she was getting ready.

“Nah,” Anne replied. “Just some books.”

“Sounds very cool,” Cleves chuckled before returning to dousing her hair with hairspray.

“Extremely.” Anne said, then set out to find and talk to Joan before the show. She could get her hair and makeup done later!

Except she couldn’t find the girl anywhere. She asked around, but nobody knew where she went. And she was definitely there because Anne saw her onstage right before the performance, but, by then, it was too late to speak to her. Anne just decided to see her afterwards, which was easier said than done because, once again, Joan was nowhere in sight.

Anne was about to give up, since it was almost time to leave, but then she spotted the girl in the break room playing a card game by herself at the round bar table. She considered charging in and barking at her about where she’s been, but she didn’t want to freak her out, so she just walked in calmly.

“Hey, Joan,” She said cooly, noticing the way the music director’s hand froze as she was setting down a card. She grabbed a water bottle from the mini fridge and sat down at the chair across from Joan. “Whatcha doing?”

“Just...playing a card game my brother taught me.” The girl replied meekly.

Joan had a brother? The articles on her said nothing about him...

“You had cards back then?” Anne asked, as if she hadn’t been born in the same time period.

“No, we used strips of wood we would tear off from people’s houses and carved symbols on them with knives.”

Anne blinked.

“...Oh. That’s...”

“Concerning?” Joan finally glanced up from her deck of cards to look at Anne. A ghost of a smile graced her lips for a moment before she tilted her head back down with a light laugh. “I know.”

“Mind if I play?”

She’s glanced at again- scanned, as if Joan was expecting her to pull something and make a joke out of her. But then she gave in and began collecting the cards from how they’re laid out on the table.

“This game is too complicated to explain,” She said. “But we can play Speed?”

After a quick rundown of the rules, Anne agreed and the game began.

And honestly? It was great. Joan genuinely laughed and smiled as they playfully bickered and argued over the card game. She almost looked like a happy little lamb frolicking in a field of flowers.

On their third round, Kitty peeks into the break room.

“There you are, Annie!” She said. “I was looking for you!”

“Oh, hey, Kit!” Anne said. Out of the corner of her eye, she definitely saw Joan clench her jaw. The drawing of Kitty and Killer Frost’s claws and then the bloody sketch briefly flashed in her mind. “What’s up?”

“We’re leaving,” Kitty informed. “We had dinner plans tonight, remember?”

Joan sighed softly and began to pick up the cards. Anne gently pressed her hand down.

“I think I’m going to pass tonight, Kit.”

Both blondes looked shocked- Joan more than Kitty from the way her head whipped up fast enough to give her whiplash.

“How come?” Kitty asked, clearly confused. “I thought you really wanted to go to this pub...”

“I know, but I’m hanging out with Joan right now.” Anne said. “Just bring me home something if you can!”

Kitty blinked several times, glanced at Joan, then nodded and walked out.

“You didn’t have to stay,” Joan whispered.

“I wanted to, though.” Anne assured her. She gently took the deck of cards from Joan’s clenched hands and began dealing them out. “Wanna keep playing Speed or try War? I’ve played with Aragon before. I swear, she ALMOST broke my nose in anger!”

“You followed me last night.”

Anne blinked.

“Yeah, of course,” She said. “I had no idea you could draw so well. You’re very talented.”

A hot pink blush dusts Joan’s cheeks and she looked away. She anxiously plays with the corner of an ace of spades. The slight drizzle that had been tapping on the window starts to pick up.

“I-”

She’s embarrassed, Anne realized. Embarrassed and horrified because she knows Anne saw the gruesome drawings she had made.

She believes that Anne thinks she’s sick. Or a freak. Or a monster.

Anne would admit that they’re a little weird, but a lot of artists liked to make horrific art. Nothing wrong with that, especially if they were vents.

“Joan-”

“Why are you doing this?” Joan asked quietly. She looked up and centuries worth of loneliness and neglect and pain reflect in her stormy grey eyes. “What do you want?”

Finally, Anne understood.

“Look,” Anne said. “I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone.”

Joan froze. She just stared at Anne in shock for a long time before tears fill her eyes and start to run down her cheeks. She tries to stop them, but it’s clear she’s been bottling this all up for a long time and won’t be able to hold it back any longer.

“Y-you want to be my friend?” Joan whispered.

“Yes, Joan.” Anne answered her honestly, not missing a beat. “You deserve someone who cares about you.”

The most heartbreaking whimper Anne has ever heard strangled itself out of Joan’s throat. The tears start to come down faster.

“N-nobody— Nobody has ever w-wanted to—”

“Oh, Joan...”

Anne quickly got out of her chair and walked around to Joan’s side of the table. She wrapped her arms around the girl and she immediately slumped into her embrace, clinging back like Anne was her life line.

“Oh, Joan,” Anne said again. “Oh, you poor, sweet little thing...”

Joan began to openly sob against her shoulder. Her hands claw at the back of Anne’s shirt, desperate for a good hold.

“I’ve- I’ve been alone f-for so long—” She wept.

“Shh, shh,” Anne hushed her. She began to rub her back soothingly. “I’ve got you now, honey. I’ve got you. I won’t let you go.”

That elicits a sharp whimper from Joan, who burrows herself even closer to the queen’s warmth. And she stays like that, half slid out of her stool, clutching onto Anne Boleyn like her life depended on it until she was able to choke back the rest of her tears.

“Feeling any better?” Anne asked. She was still rubbing Joan’s back, as the girl had yet to pull back from the embrace.

Joan shrugged weakly. “A-little.” She croaked. “N-not...not good. But better. B-because you’re here.”

Anne’s heart simultaneously broke and melted.

“You sweet girl,” She said lovingly. “I want to be here for you from now on. Is that alright?”

Joan nodded. “Please...”

“Alright,” Anne said. She gently pressed Joan back and gave her her water bottle, which she never actually opened. “Drink something for me, sweetheart.”

Joan obeyed and took a few small sips of the water. It soothed her dry throat, which was weak from the outpour of emotions.

“Good girl,” Anne said encouragingly. “Hey, here’s an idea! Why don’t we go back to my house and watch a movie? I know there’s a tray of lasagna we could heat up! If you want to, that is.”

“N-no, that’s-” Joan sniffled. “I would really, really like that...”

Anne smiled warmly at her.

“Wonderful.”

———

When the other queens came home later that evening, none of them were expecting to see Anne sitting on the couch with the music director’s head in her lap, but that’s the sight they were greeted to.

They both looked content, Anne with a loving smile on her lips and Joan with a peaceful expression settled on her face as she slept. One of Anne’s hands was stroking through Joan’s hair and the other was holding a book, which she looked up from when the front door opened.

“Hey, ladies,” She said, momentarily setting down Wings of Fire- The Dragonet Prophecy. “How was dinner?”

———

A day later, Anne got a notification on her phone saying that @force-be-with-ewe had posted. When she checks it, she sees a digital drawing of Killer Frost being nuzzled lovingly by a large, emerald green dragon.

The caption simply reads, “Thank you for giving me a chance”