#Lavinia’s arms look a little weird but whatever

[emotionally-charged-arson]

Character lineup, Transitus historical redesign edition. In their sepia tone versions, in actual artwork they’d be drawn against some pretty vibrant painted backgrounds. Come back to me on that. Been meaning to do this for a while!

Have some design notes:

Daniel - Third from left. In @hawthorn-crow’s words: "like a stiff breeze would blow him over." His shoulders/upper body have deliberately been scaled down from that of real-life Tommy Karevik. I don’t know how else to say this but if I were Henry I wouldn’t be easing around in my brother’s personal life if he could drop kick me directly into the sun. Looks pretty normal, all things considered. The "standout" trait comes from the trust fund kid status: his clothes have a LOT of variety. Literally a different jacket, vest and tie almost every single scene in a period where that was not something easily attainable. Common thing between all of the ‘normal’ outfits is the little watch chain, somewhat prominently displayed.

Abby - Third from right. The exact opposite as Daniel; cycles through two or three outfits maximum outside of her work uniform before 1884. Her box braids are thicker than the original design. Has a pair of emerald drop earrings; gift from the himbo. As for the shoes, homegirl is working minimum 13-hour days, for Christ’s sake, put some treads on those industrial strength high heels. She likes quilting Why? Cause I said so and wanted her to have hobbies like human beings do. The dress shown here is one fabric/color all the way down, but the seams form a fun little pattern that looks nothing like fire haha what.

Henry - Second from left. Lots of age lines, grey streaks. Visibly much older than Daniel. Loads of aggressive angles, you want a sense of the douchebag aura from a distance. Literally Andrew Carnegie but with none of the redeeming qualities. Really narcissistic and intent on showing off his status and is thus obsessed with outward appearance. Sharply dressed and deliberately so. Flashy, patterned waistcoats and one very expensive and painstakingly tended to pair of sideburns.

Lavinia - Second from right. Same as Abby, just a few outfits to her name and sturdier shoes. Though she comes off to me as someone who has expensive tastes that can’t be pursued to their fullest extent. Don’t we all. Pays close attention to new fashion and alters her existing clothes (and hair) accordingly under budget. Is keen on appearing above her station, though not with any malicious intent. More just a desire to fit in and look nice.

Abraham - Far right. The beta version of Abraham of from the earbook bonus pages is peak and this is very heavily inspired by that. Has not purchased any major clothing items for himself since the mid 1860s; he’s got other priorities. Any new stuff is smaller, and usually cut from the same material as Lavinia’s skirts. Fabrics are worn out (along with their dyes) and lots of layers are worn as a result. Outermost layer that he wears pretty much everywhere on account of it being the only coat he has is a bleached and dyed Union army jacket.

Dee - Far left. Entire character is defined by being stuck in the past. Like Abraham his clothes are very 1860s based but in a more fashion forward and emotionally stunted, "I never got over my wife dying a d am making it my kids’ problem" way, as opposed to the much more reasonable "being impoverished" route. Hair is also very much mid-century and meant to look out of place next the shorter, clean-cut 70s/80s style that Henry has. ….old. Like basically on death’s door, he kicks the bucket almost immediately after Daniel does.

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday, mellarkablegirl!

Happy Birthday, @mellarkablegirl​! We hope you’ve had a wonderful day so far, and that there is some epic cake forthcoming in your future! To keep your party going, the lovely @endlessnightlock​ has written a story just for you!

I hope you enjoy this best friends to lovers Everlark! Rated M for content of a sexual nature.

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

I toss another rock into the air, and, just like the first one I threw, it pings off the window of Peeta’s bedroom. I wait anxiously, worried it could be his mom or dad I’m going to wake up, since there’s no sign of movement inside his house at all, and certainly nothing from his room. 

Yes, it’s one a.m., but he ought to know to look for me by now. We wake each other up like this all the time. I know things will be awkward after everything that happened the other night, but still- that doesn’t mean he’s going to ignore me now, does it?

I cross my arms over my chest and huff. What in the heck is Peeta doing up there? 

“Peeta!” I loud-whisper his name harshly, irritated. I should probably just let things go for tonight and let him sleep, but I won’t have any peace until I talk to him- I’ve been going crazy since the other night, and I know we can’t keep ignoring each other, can we?

Besides, he’s used to me waking him up by now anyway. 

We've been best friends and next-door neighbors since we were six- Peeta brought me over a picture and a chocolate cupcake the day my family moved into the house next to his. After that, we played in my back yard for hours, digging up bugs and playing made-up pretend games, laughing together the rest of the afternoon.

Fortunately, I’m not left debating whether or not to go home for long, because his window opens and a head full of tousled blond curls appears. I’d recognize Peeta anywhere with that hair- the color is so light the moon reflects off it. It doesn't matter that I can’t see his face. 

“What are you doing out there?” he says, his voice thick like I woke him out of a dead sleep. 

”I wanted to talk to you, ” I say, shrugging.

“Why didn’t you just send me a text or something?” he clears his throat and leans further out the window. 

I frown up at him- and with the way I'm standing underneath the security light, I know he can see my face. What does Peeta think he’s going to do- have a whispered conversation with me from up there- doesn’t he want to talk to me? It makes me wonder if he’s been avoiding me, too, as I suspected. 

“Can you come down here, please? I wanted to talk to you.”

He glances behind him, hesitating. Anxiety rears its head and starts gnawing away at me. Did I ruin things between us?

“Yeah, just give me a few minutes,” Peeta says, sounding resigned. He quickly disappears inside his room and shuts the window behind him. 

While I wait for him to come downstairs, I climb up his back porch steps and sit on the wooden swing. Leaning back further, I pull my hands inside the sleeves of the sweatshirt I’m wearing to keep them warm- it's one of Peeta’s from freshman wrestling, and I swiped it from his room three years ago. It’s warm and comfortable, and it smelled like him at the time. 

While the scent is gone, his sweatshirt is my go-to comfort item, paired with shorts or sweats. It's not like Peeta would have worn it much longer anyway- he had his big growth spurt that summer, and he got so much taller and broader than me I would drown in his clothes now. 

It was around the time I started feeling differently about him, I realize now. We’d always been close- Peeta’s my best friend, and I love him as much as I do my sister or my mom and dad. But until that year, I’d never fixated on the way he smelled or how his eyelashes would light up in the sun or how his shirt sleeves grew tight around his biceps and forearms. 

I’d certainly never given any thought to the way the edge of his underwear and that strip of skin between the waistline of his pants and the bottom of his shirt would peek out if he lifted his arms above his head. That left me so hot and itchy every time it happened; I couldn’t look him in the face after.

“Hey,” Peeta greets me quietly, stepping out on the porch and closing the door gently behind him. I scoot over on the porch swing to give him room, making sure to provide him with a wide berth. He won't look at me; shame makes my face burn.

I was planning on being the one to bring it up, but suddenly it's as if my mouth is frozen shut. Darn it- there are so many things I need to say. 

I open my mouth, glance over at him staring down at his hands like he doesn’t know what to say either, and rapidly shut it again. 

You're the one who began this, I tell myself, you need to start this conversation.

”Peeta, hmm, listen.” He turns his head to look at me, and I force myself to speak again, staring into those blue eyes I know so well. ”I’m sorry-”

Peeta’s face drops, and he interrupts me. ”Please don’t say you're sorry, I can take anything but that right now, ” he says, “just don’t say that.”

I look down at my hands. ”But I ruined everything.”

He groans, and I peek over at him again. ”What do you think you ruined?” he whispers, a bit frantic-sounding. ”Katniss-”

It was about the same time- late enough so that Mr. and Mrs. Mellark were both in bed. Neither sets of our parents used to let us stay out so late, but since we’ve both turned eighteen and it’s our senior year, I guess they figure we’ll be out from under them soon anyway, so why bother with a curfew. Either we’re going to get into trouble, or we’re not.

We’d been sitting, talking about the dumb shit going on at school, namely some drama involving Josh Marvel and his on again off again girlfriend Clove Adkins. 

Peeta groaned- ”Dude just won’t shut up about her in the locker room. Katniss-” 

We were laughing together, and god, how happy his laughter made me. It warmed my body that night like sunshine on a freakin spring day, and while I know how sappy that sounds, it's the truth. That feeling- it made me feel reckless. 

”He won't stop talking about how she's the hottest girl in our class-”

”You don’t think she’s the hottest?” 

Peeta looked at me like I had lobsters crawling around on top of my head. “Are you kidding me? Hell no. No, not at all. You know I'm not an ogler.”

I laughed. ”Don’t act like you don't.”

He was growing uncomfortable, I could tell, but that didn’t stop me.

“Who do you think is, then?” I prodded him.

Why was I doing this to myself? I knew I wouldn’t like whatever answer he gave me. 

I guess I had a perverse wish for some honesty from him because, at that moment, it seemed better to know what he thought, even if it meant I would be found wanting in comparison to the Cashmeres or the Lavinias of the world. 

”I don’t think I want to answer that,” he said, his voice tight.

“Why?” I asked, turning in my seat. I was going to hate myself for it later, I knew it- but as an idiot in love with her best friend, I wasn’t already pathetic enough. This display tonight would definitely push me over the edge. “It’s not like I’m going to go hunt her down for you or anything.”

He turned away from me then, staring straight ahead. My stomach plummeted the moment I realized I was going to get my answer. 

“What exactly do you mean by the hottest?” He finally asked.

“I think the term hottest is pretty self-explanatory.”

Peeta shifted on the swing. “No, because there are all kinds of attractiveness. I mean, I’m not attracted to guys, but Finnick and Gale are both pretty hot-“

“You’re avoiding the subject,” I said flatly. Bringing up other guys was a rookie move- “come on.”

“Who do you think is the hottest then?” He asked, turning to face me.

You, I wanted to tell him- and you're not just the most attractive, you’re the kindest, and the warmest, and I’d probably give my life for yours. “I’m not the one who’s supposed to answer!” I said, instead.

“It’s only fair,” Peeta said. “You know, you’re so- I wonder if you’ve ever been attracted to anyone, Katniss, even a little bit.” 

I scowled at him, covering the hurt with a frown. Where was he getting at with this, turning the tables on me? And how dare he say that- he had no idea how I felt or how attracted to someone I was. He didn’t get to do that.

“Not that there’s anything wrong if you aren’t,” he continued, the words spoken too easily considering the way he’d broken my heart with his carelessness. “I like you the way you are- you’re just so pure. You don’t even notice what’s right in front of your face half the time.” He looked over at me then, with a weird half-smile. “Come on, Katniss- tell me I’m wrong.” 

I stared at him, hating myself for beginning this conversation almost as much as I hated him for saying those things to me.

Peeta’s eyes held a challenge, sitting on the porch swing in the dark the way we’d sat for years and years leading up to that night . Endless nights during which we’d grown up together. I’d say I fell in love with him here. 

And now, my heart was aching. I bit down on my lip to keep it from trembling.

I can’t say precisely why I did it: maybe it was the way he was looking at me, perhaps it was the frustration I felt with my inability to just say the words to him. 

Whatever caused it, at that moment, I think I lost my mind. 

While Peeta’s gaze remanded steady and unwavering, I moved closer to him. My heart was racing a million miles a minute, but still, I got my knees beneath me on the swing and leaned in, resting my hands on his shoulders for support, balancing in that precarious position. 

And then, before I had time to talk myself out of it, I kissed him. His breath rushed out against my face right as I pressed my lips to his. 

I’d never kissed anyone before. I was terrified, hoping I wouldn’t screw it up. 

But there was also exhilaration and feeling completely overwhelmed by Peeta’s soft, warm lips under my own. 

It was perfect. 

He was perfect. 

The breath caught in my lungs when he stiffened under my hands and mouth, and for half of a second, I panicked. Before I had time to think about it, he relaxed as if he’d only needed a moment to get used to the idea that I was kissing him.

I pulled back a little, closing my eyes and resting my forehead against Peeta’s. His skin was so warm against mine. I wished it wasn’t so dark, and I could see him better, those minute details of his face I’d never been close enough to take in before.

“Did you just…” Peeta began, but his words trailed off. 

Instead of saying anything else, his hands came to my face, framing it for a moment before tilting it and kissing me back; I guess it wasn’t the time for words. I knew he’d kissed a few girls before, so I wasn’t surprised when he took over what we were doing, but not aggressively. He moved his lips against mine, and I responded. It felt like gentle, tingly caresses. 

Peeta’s arm went around my waist, and he pulled me closer. I wasn’t sure where to go, so I just leaned into his body. 

God, it was amazing- all my senses were in overdrive, his body felt so good against mine, and the way he smelled? I just kind of wanted to bury my face in the side of his neck and never leave. 

He shifted a little, and I wobbled, still unbalanced. I was positioned awkwardly next to him, but I wasn’t sure how to rectify it. If I moved, he might stop kissing me, and I never wanted him to stop. It felt like we were in some alternate reality, in a bubble that would burst if one of us had a misstep.

Peeta must have sensed my trepidation; I don’t think he wanted to stop either. “Sit on my lap,” he murmured between kisses, “it’ll be easier that way.”

My pulse was pounding as I swung my leg over his thighs. As I settled on him, I swallowed roughly- I couldn’t believe we were doing this. His body felt so sturdy and warm and hard under me, and I was shocked to realize just how much straddling him affected me. My lips weren’t the only thing tingling- my whole body was a live wire.

“Katniss,” he murmured my name, his voice lower than I ever heard it sound before. His hand went behind my neck again, and he moved into me. This time, his lips parted, and mine opened automatically, my tongue darting out to meet his without a thought. Everything we were doing seemed as natural as breathing, each move requiring no thought. Instinctual.

I moaned into his mouth as his tongue caressed mine. I had no idea this would feel so good, all of this. We were both breathing hard, and I ran my fingers up the sleeves of his t-shirt to touch those strong arms I’d been admiring for years.

He sighed.

Peeta used the arm around my waist to pull me closer to him, and I had no choice but to lay against him, my breasts pressing into his chest as my bottom landed on the hard lump of his erection between my thighs.

Oh my god- it was like all my fantasies were coming true.

And then Peeta said those words that put a screeching halt to everything we were doing. “It’s you,” he pulled away from my lips just long enough to tell me, “only you.”

“Only me what?” I asked, ready to kiss him again. 

My brain must’ve taken leave of my body. I couldn’t remember what we’d talked about while sitting on Peeta like this. The only thing I could think about was how good it felt with him beneath me.

“The hottest- the most beautiful. Whatever you want to call it, it’s you.”

His words froze me in my tracks. 

Why couldn’t he have kept quiet? “You don’t have to say that,” I said, sitting back to look at him. His lips had swollen, and his eyes looked heavy-lidded as he stared up at me.

I didn’t want to talk about this- I didn’t want to consider that my best friend would flatter me that way just because we were fooling around. I mean, he’s a guy. Of course, he was going to enjoy doing this. 

Couldn’t I just have this night? I was under no delusions that things would go further than this. “I’m not-”

“You don’t believe me,” he said incredulously, his eyes darting back and forth between mine. “Why don’t you believe me?” 

I shuttered my eyes, finding it was impossible to look at him. “There’s no way you think that about me. How could you?”

Beneath me, Peeta’s whole body went rigid. He was silent for so long, the air between us grew tense. It was strange having him suddenly so distant while we were in such an intimate position. 

“Are you saying I’m lying?” he finally asked.

I shrugged- yes, I did think that. What was there to say?

I guess my gesture spoke volumes because, just like that, every one of those good feelings between us dissipated. 

Without looking at him, I climbed off of his lap and stood next to the swing. I don’t know exactly how I managed it, but everything seemed screwed up now. “Peeta, I’m-”

He wouldn’t even look at me, staring down at his hands. “I don’t know what you want me to say-” he interrupted.

“I don’t know what you want me to say!” I countered, “I just, I don’t want you to lie to me. Just because we did, just because we did that,” I waved my arm at the swing before quickly tucking it back around myself in a protective move, “doesn’t mean you have to tell me that. God, I just- I expected better from you.”

“Better from me? Katniss-”

I couldn’t do it. I just- “I’m just going to go, okay?” I stopped him. I felt like I was going to be sick. 

Peeta heaved out a loud sigh. “Of course you are,” he sounded tired. 

He stood abruptly, going inside the house with a slam of his door, leaving me second-guessing everything we’d done. 

“Why did you assume I was lying to you that night?” Peeta asks, warily.

“Why did you sat that to me?” I counter.

“Because I meant it, every word of it,” he says, shifting restlessly in the porch swing, his fingers trailing the loops of a chain suspending us from the porch ceiling. “I’m not a liar, Katniss.”  

No, he’s right. I’ve never known Peeta to lie, let alone lie to me. Sometimes he can be brutally honest when he’s frustrated. I think I figured out that he was telling the truth already. I just didn’t know what to do with that information.

He turns to face me again. “Why did you kiss me? You weren’t just trying to prove a point, were you? I don’t want you to kiss me to get me off your back or something.”

I let out a breath. “That wasn’t it. Well, it was a little at first, but you were an ass.” “Katniss, the only reason I want you to kiss me is that you want to kiss me.”

“I did want to kiss you,” I say. “I did,” I add at his look of skepticism. “I liked it,” I admit shyly.

“Why, just to see what it was like- did I seem like someone safe to fool around with?”

I frown at him. He makes me want to smack him- is he that obtuse, or does he think I’m shallow enough to kiss him, my best friend, because I wanted to kiss someone, anyone? 

But the more I study his face, the more I realize he’s anxious, and his anxiety soothes mine. He seems to be hanging on by a thin thread, waiting for my answer. 

Does this mean he wants me too?

And just like that, I know I’m the one holding the cards, as crazy as that seems. 

Lucky for Peeta, he’s the only prize I want to win.

“Because I like you,” I say the words confidently as I sit close to him, hip to hip, laying my head on his shoulder and turning my face into his t-shirt. “I want you to be more than my friend. I have for a while.”

“How long is a while?” Peeta asks, and I can’t help but hear the happiness in his voice as he threads our fingers together and rests them on my leg.

“How long has it been for you?” I ask, instead, feeling shy. He needs to fill in some details- I’m not comfortable being the only one laying my feelings out. 

“Since I met you.”

“That can’t be true,” I say.

“It’s completely true. Ask Dad- that night after you moved in- when we stayed out until the lightning bugs came out? That night I went home and told my dad I was going to marry you.” Peeta lifts my hand to his; he plants a kiss to my knuckles and rests his head against mine.

I stare at our joined hands, my mind racing. 

“So I thought you were just fooling around with me, and you thought I was a liar,” he continues. “And neither one of us was right.”

I think I’m in shock over the way this evening has changed everything between us- it’s like I don’t quite know what to do with myself. “I mean, if you want to say yours was a lie of omission, then that was true. And I liked kissing you,” I admit, teasing Peeta.

“Yeah?” he asks, scooting forward on the seat and turning to face me. He drops my hand to push those loose hairs that escaped from my braid out of the way, tucking them in behind my ear. His fingers linger under my chin, the flat of his thumb caresses my cheek. 

I shiver, my reaction giving me away. 

“Me too,” Peeta says, smiling widely, “does that mean you want to do it again, now?”

And then we’re kissing- and on the Mellark’s porch swing at least, all is right with the world.

[seavoice]

Horse Trading

(link to ao3 on title, or continue reading after the read more)

“Octavian was an asshole,” Reyna said, a contemplative look on her face as she laid on the floor of Hazel’s Praetor Villa, “but sometimes I think, can you really blame him?”

“Yes,” Hazel said, from her position on the floor next to her, where she was trying to sketch Reyna, a task made inordinately difficult by the older girl’s constant moving around. “I really can.”

Reyna sighed. It was a long and contemplative sigh. It wasn’t unusual to see Reyna with a brooding, thinking look on her face, but the relaxed and content expression added a new dimension to it. It was something structural; it somehow made her look younger yet more self-assured at the same time. “Octavian,” Reyna repeated, “was an asshole. But this Villa, Hazel. This Villa. I can see why Octavian was so desperate for praetorship. This house almost makes up for the stress of leading a child army.”

“It does not,” Hazel said. “It really does not, Reyna. Distance has just made your heart grow fonder. And delusional.” She sighed as Reyna shifted her position yet again. Reyna winced as a wordless apology. “Also,” Hazel said, reaching for her eraser, “Octavian didn’t want the praetorship for the house. He wanted it because he was a power hungry and blood thirsty politician.”

“At least you agree the bed is worth it?”

The bed was very nice, Hazel had to admit. Californian King, which seemed excessive, but was appreciated, and the fluffiest pillows Hazel had ever laid her head on. “Maybe. But I’m not agreeing with you when you literally opted for laying on the floor instead of the bed.”

“Fair enough,” Reyna said. She stretched on the floor, some complicated starburst. Hazel decided to give up her endeavour at drawing Reyna and flipped to the previous page in her sketchbook where she had been working on a drawing of Arion. It was half completed, and it was an attempt at drawing purely from memory, but Hazel enjoyed the challenge. “But it’s good for your back, believe me.”

“You’re an immortal Huntress now. Does that really matter?”

“Also fair enough,” Reyna agreed. Reyna rolled over to prop herself up on her elbows and peeked at Hazel’s sketchbook. She raised a single eyebrow. “Oh, that’s certainly more...horse-y than I usually look.”

“I gave up. You move too much.”

Reyna inclined her head in acceptance. Still on her belly, she folded her arms and laid her head down on them.

It was weird to see Reyna so carefree. Weird in an undoubtedly good way, but weird nonetheless. Immortality had, perhaps ironically, taken years off her shoulders.

Hazel hadn’t invited Reyna to New Rome to draw her, but inevitably, that was what the visit had come to. She had written to her asking for advice — advice on running an entire city, advice on leading a quote unquote “child army” in times of peace, advice on not going crazy with stress — and Reyna had accepted so readily that a ventus spirit had brought her letter the very day Hazel had sent hers. Hazel had prepared for the visit with a single minded focus; she had brought a notebook for note taking, three different colours of pens, a highlighter, and her firmest handshake.

But then they had skipped the firm handshake and instead had hugged, tight, and Reyna had snagged a bowl of jelly beans from the Praetor office, and for the next few hours they had done nothing but lay on the floor of Hazel’s newly acquired Praetor Villa, swapping stories after stories, lazing around and sketching. Reyna had told her about the Hunt’s newest undertaking, some mythological boar or the other, and also about Thalia’s new obsession with 80’s rock. Hazel had told her about Lavinia’s latest shenanigans, and Gwen’s new job as a much valued mental health counsellor for the Legion. No notetaking had taken place. No praetor advice had been shared.

“It’s very good,” Reyna said, gesturing to Hazel’s drawing of Arion. “The likeness is stunning.”

Hazel beamed. “Really?”

“Of course!” Reyna scrambled to sit up. “It’s uncanny. This is really, really good, Hazel. It’s like…” Reyna made a hand gesture like she was pulling something; Hazel recognised it as an unconscious tick that Reyna had, one usually employed in Town Hall meetings when she was struggling to find the correct words to use for convincing reluctant denizens. “It’s like make a career out of it good,” she finished.

It was a warming compliment. Hazel’s smile grew wider; this was a pride unlike any other, something simple and easy and painless. Hazel had convinced herself to take pride in the smaller things more often. It made a dreary life just a little bit happier and easier when she could take pride in mastering her mist magic, in baking a sweet cupcake to perfection, in a good sparring session, in making a friend smile. But this pride in her artwork was somehow—brighter. It was something she’d dedicated long hours to.

“Horse artist?” Hazel said. “You think there’s a market out there for that?”

“Are you kidding me? Pet artist! Lucrative as they come.” Reyna laughed, an easy, lovely sound, and this too was unusual, this too was good, this too warmed Hazel. “People go crazy when they get pets. Put them in all cute little kinds of outfits and hire professional photographers, artists...I’m serious, Hazel. Business idea.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Hazel said, with a laugh of her own. Then she sighed and set down her pencil. “I appreciate the business advice, though honestly, what I need more is Praetor advice. I feel I’m going insane.”

“You’re doing wonderfully,” Reyna said. “You don’t need my advice, Hazel. You’re a force of nature.”

This was a sweet sentiment, and Reyna probably meant it, but it didn’t help Hazel’s case. “Thanks,” she said. “Like—genuinely. But I do feel...I do feel like I’m going insane. It’s—it’s a lot.”

Reyna’s eyebrows furrowed. She looked older at once, older in all senses of the word. Like the Reyna of before the Hunt, and the break from her duties—Reyna in charge, Praetor Reyna, sixteen year old Reyna with the world on her shoulders. She sat up straighter. “Is someone giving you trouble?” Reyna asked. “I was joking about Octavian earlier, but gods, if someone’s coming up to take his spot as Asshole of the Year—“

“No,” Hazel said quickly. “It’s nothing like that. That’s nothing. I could deal with someone like that no problem. It’s just—like you said...child army.”

Reyna exhaled softly and closed her eyes. “Yeah.”

Hazel hated bringing the mood down, hated evaporating Reyna’s good cheer, but she set that uncomfortableness aside for the time being. She pulled up her legs to her chest and rested her chin on her knees. And there was solidarity in this too, acknowledgment. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Everything’s—okay, now, for the time being. Doesn’t mean it’s going to stay that way forever.”

“That’s not really ever in your control,” Reyna said with a rueful smile. “But I do...I do get what you mean. I understand.”

“I thought you would,” Hazel said. “That’s why I wrote to you.” She’d thought of going to Frank with these thoughts too, and she was sure he’d give good advice, and be kind about it, but a part of her—a stubborn part, maybe, a conscious part, sure, but a valid part, nonetheless—hadn’t wanted to show a weakness to her co-Praetor, even one as familiar as Frank.

“I don’t know if I can give you any great advice,” Reyna said at last. “I don’t know if I can tell you anything you don’t already know, and you are doing a great job.”

Hazel tried to keep the sadness out of her smile. “Hm.”

“What I needed?” Reyna said. “What I needed when I was a praetor was...gods, just a ear. Just someone to bear it with me. Someone to understand. Jas—he was gone, and it was just me. For the longest time. But then with Frank, it wasn’t as hard again, because we could...we could switch off. We could share. That’s the only thing I can really tell you, Hazel. Only advice I can give you. Share. Share it with me, always. With Frank. Lavinia. Nico. Your friends. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re alone. You don’t have to be.”

“I know,” Hazel said. She’d been alone for so long in Asphodel she had thought she could survive loneliness, if she had to. But she didn’t have to. And she didn’t want to. “And you sold yourself short Reyna—you do give great advice.”

“Sounds like I didn’t say anything you didn’t already know.”

“But I think I needed to hear that from you,” Hazel said. “From someone else. You said it yourself—I just needed to know someone else understood. Otherwise it gets...it gets lonely.”

Reyna’s smile was soft. “You’ve got good instincts, Hazel. You’ll be just fine.”

Gods, she hoped. “Thanks for coming out here on such short notice. You probably were busy with the hunt.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Reyna said, and there was that strange new lightness to her again, a relaxed happiness. “Haven’t you heard? I’ve got time now.”

Hazel picked her pencil back up. “You know, if you try sitting still, maybe I can still do a quick sketch. Before you leave.”

“Actually,” Reyna said, and was Hazel imagining things or did she actually look self-conscious? “I have a sketch request, if you’d accept.”

Hazel was intrigued. “Oh. Oh. Sure. Who?”

Reyna smiled a little sheepishly. “Don’t laugh okay? I miss him. Scipio.”

Pet artist...Hazel let out a small giggle. “Oh, so when you said people go crazy when they get pets, you meant—“

“I told you not to laugh!” But Reyna was laughing herself. It wasn’t sad, but it was sort of wistful. “I never dressed him up or whatever, but he’s been on my mind lately; I’ve been wondering when he’ll reform. Pegasi reform slow, apparently. I thought I’d never see him again in this life, but now that I’m a Hunter—holy Pluto, I can. And you drew Arion so well—“

“I think it’s sweet,” Hazel said. It was, exceedingly so. Hazel was trying to recall Skippy in her memories, and she felt a pang of sadness as she remembered him soaring above them during the War Games. It had been a long time since she had seen him, but she thought she remembered enough to manage a sketch for Reyna. “It might not be a perfect likeness—“

“I’ve got a photo.”

Now, Hazel absolutely couldn’t control herself. She smiled wide, a fond laugh bubbling in her chest. “Oh, Reyna—“

“Will it, or will it not make it easier to draw him?” Reyna asked, tips of her ears a faint pink.

“It’ll be perfect,” Hazel promised. “Where have you got it? In the Praetor office?”

Reyna reached into her pocket and brought out a worn out photograph. As much as it was hilarious, it was also heart-warmingly sweet, a touch melancholy. Hazel sympathised with her—she couldn’t imagine losing Arion. She probably would start carrying a picture of him everywhere too; it wasn’t a bad idea.

“Sure,” Hazel said, studying the picture. “I can do a drawing for you no problem. You can carry it everywhere along with the picture. A horse drawing in exchange for solid advice. My first political quid pro quo as Praetor.”

“That’s a terrible deal, Hazel. I can literally commission you, if you want.”

“I’ll settle for a refill of my jelly beans,” Hazel said, gesturing at the now empty bowl of jelly beans. They’d made fast work of it. It hadn’t survived the first hour.

Reyna sighed and stretched out on the floor. “Oh, I forgot,” she said glumly. “One more piece of advice, Praetor to Praetor.”

Hazel looked up. “Yeah?”

“Stock up on those beans,” Reyna said mournfully. “And never let anyone break into your stash. You’ll need them.”

[shadowsong26fic]

yo.

Soooooo yeah. I know I’ve been kinda least-in-sight lately and have a very overdue Precipice chapter in the wings, etc., etc. Uh, basically, my BB got behind and then a little bit away from me. Deadline is not an issue in terms of completeness, but it’s gonna be quite a bit messier than I like at this stage in an event like this. Well, I’m planning to Power Through over the weekend and hopefully I’ll get more tweaking done than I expect? We shall see.

ANYWAY. I don’t know how March will look--more on that in Monday’s Coming Attractions post, of course, but work will get SUPER BUSY, along with other ongoing challenge commitments--but I’m still hoping to start posting my regular fics again? Lol. At least finishing Arc Seven so I can move on to Promises and Preludes because I’m super excited for some of the stuff happening there.

But for now, since I know I haven’t posted much lately, and because I’ve been rereading the Valdemar series so it’s been on my mind, I’ve decided to share some more from my Jedi of Valdemar AU! Specifically, this is the Ginormous Timeline of Doom that covers everything from, like, two years before Anakin gets to Haven to Leia’s kids’ generation getting Chosen, etc. (working in a Blended Canon because that’s how I roll) Obviously, this includes many spoilers for the AU in question--and also, because I like to keep certain plot points/character beats consistent, a few things for other fics. Also, this is an admittedly niche-appeal crossover with a fair amount of self-indulgent stuff in here JSYK.

Let’s see, what else...oh! Those of you who read the Family of Spies AU will recognize some OCs from there. One of them actually technically originated in the Valdemar AU, even. Nikolai and his brothers, who get mentioned here, are OCs of mine who in the regular timeline/galaxy are Kallus’s sister’s sons.

Also, Much Much Credit to Roommate TK for serving as a sounding board/helping with brainstorming/letting me use some of her OCs in this XD

I think that’s all the disclaimers I need so...here we go! Feel free to comment, question, etc., on anything in this post or whatever else you’re curious about!

Valdemar AU Rough Timeline (covering 64 goddamn years; including ages and broken into three arcs because easier to count, etc.):

[ARC ONE]

-3 – Obi-Wan is Chosen (by Hondo) - Obi-Wan is 13; Padme is 11; Anakin is approx. 6; Bail is 15; Breha is 14; Palpatine is 40

-2 – Padme is Chosen (by Sabe) - Obi-Wan is 14; Padme is 12; Anakin is approx. 7; Bail is 16; Breha is 15; Palpatine is 41

-.5 – Padme’s parents and Mace are killed; Bail is Chosen as Queen’s Own; Palps becomes Lord Regent/Lord Protector (I haven't decided which title I like better yet) - Obi-Wan is 15/16; Padme is 13/14; Anakin is approx. 8; Bail is 18; Breha is 17; Palpatine is 42/43

0 – Anakin arrives in Haven after being Chosen by Ahsoka - Obi-Wan is 16; Padme is 14; Anakin is approx. 9; Bail is 18; Breha is 17; Palpatine is 43

2 – Obi-Wan is put into full Whites - Obi-Wan is 18; Padme is 16; Anakin is approx. 11; Bail is 20; Breha is 19; Palpatine is 45

3 – Padme is put into full Whites and Palpatine’s regency ends with a deceptively smooth transition of power - Obi-Wan is 19; Padme is 17; Anakin is approx. 12; Bail is 21; Breha is 20; Palpatine is 46

5 – Bail and Breha marry - Obi-Wan is 21; Padme is 10; Anakin is approx. 14; Bail is 23; Breha is 22; Palpatine is 48

6 or 7 – By now, the OT3 and a select few in their inner circle know that this is a Lifebond situation (not that they’re doing anything about it until Anakin, at minimum, has his Whites/finished his internship/etc., but they’re Aware and planning their futures with that in mind) - Obi-Wan is 22/23; Padme is 20/21; Anakin is approx. 15/16; Bail is 24/25; Breha is 23/24; Palps is 49/50 ((Note - I am going with an OT3 lifebond here for several reasons, including the fact that I don’t think Obi-Wan would be a very good Companion for Anakin (i.e., it would go like canon/Gala and Tylendel and No One Wants That), and this still showcases their extremely tight connection and also I like the OT3.))

8 – Anakin is put into full Whites; Dooku leaves Court and begins stirring up Trouble; discussion of when/who Padme should marry picks up/starts in real earnest. - Obi-Wan is 24; Padme is 22; Anakin is approx. 17; Bail is 26; Breha is 25; Palps is 51

9 – The civil war officially erupts - Obi-Wan is 25; Padme is 23; Anakin is approx. 18; Bail is 27; Breha is 26; Palps is 52

10 – Anakin loses his arm - Obi-Wan is 26; Padme is 24; Anakin is approx. 19; Bail is 28; Breha is 27; Palps is 53

11 – Dooku lays siege to Haven; Anakin and Ahsoka sneak out of the city and kill him - Obi-Wan is 27; Padme is 25; Anakin is approx. 20; Bail is 29; Breha is 28; Palps is 54

11 or 12 – Padme and Anakin marry (and make a similar private vow/commitment to Obi-Wan; Anakin gets the legal title because Obi-Wan emphatically does not want to be King, but doesn’t think he could refuse the responsibility if he was Padme’s legal spouse even if the Council/etc. would let him. Also Anakin becomes Weaponsmaster’s Second somewhere in here, but not 100% sure on exact timing, but almost certainly before the wedding.) - Obi-Wan is 27/28; Padme is 25/26; Anakin is approx. 20/21; Bail is 29/30; Breha is 28/29; Palps is 54/55

14 – Leia is born; her parents are not 100% sure who her biodad is but don’t particularly care. - Obi-Wan is 30; Padme is 28; Anakin is approx. 23; Bail is 32; Breha is 31; Palps is 57 ((Note: Luke is Leia’s Companion, as I’ve posted before, which is why he’s not here :D))

16 – Lavinia is born 2 years after Leia; her mother dies in an accident shortly thereafter - Obi-Wan is 32; Padme is 30; Anakin is approx. 25; Bail is 34; Breha is 33; Palps is 59

[ARC 2]

-4 – Leia is Chosen (by Luke); Lando and Amilyn arrive in Haven as Bardic students - Obi-Wan is 43; Padme is 41; Anakin is approx. 36; Bail is 45; Breha is 44; Palps is 70; Leia is 13; Lavinia is 11; Ezra is 12; Lando is 15; Amilyn is 12; Kanan and Hera are 25ish

-2 – Ezra is Chosen (by Ventress because the Kingdom clearly needed a little Pure Chaos) and joins Leia’s inner circle - Obi-Wan is 45; Padme is 43; Anakin is approx. 38; Bail is 47; Breha is 46; Palps is 72; Leia is 15; Lavinia is 13; Ezra is 14; Lando is 17; Amilyn is 14; Kanan and Hera are 27ish

0 – Kallus defects and comes to Haven with Zeb; Lando goes off on his Journeyman period - Obi-Wan is 47; Padme is 45; Anakin is approx. 40; Bail is 49; Breha is 48; Palps is 74; Leia is 17; Lavinia is 15; Ezra is 16; Lando is 19; Amilyn is 16; Kanan and Hera are 29ish; Zeb and Kallus are 35ish

1 – Pellaeon becomes Lord Marshall; Lavinia is Chosen (by Thrawn) and exposes her father’s crimes; Palpatine flees Valdemar (going West, discovering he has a latent Mage-Gift, and meeting Mother Talzin); Kanan is blinded as Palpatine has his minions try to kill the three people responsible for his downfall (Kanan, Lavinia, and Pellaeon) - Obi-Wan is 48; Padme is 46; Anakin is approx. 41; Bail is 50; Breha is 49; Palps is 75; Leia is 18; Lavinia is 16; Ezra is 17; Lando is 20; Amilyn is 17; Kanan and Hera are 30ish; Zeb and Kallus are 36ish; Pellaeon is 50

2 – Zeb and Kallus get their first kids; Ezra is put into full Whites; Amilyn goes on her Journeyman period - Obi-Wan is 49; Padme is 47; Anakin is approx. 42; Bail is 51; Breha is 50; Palps is 76; Leia is 19; Lavinia is 17; Ezra is 18; Lando is 21; Amilyn is 18; Kanan and Hera are 31ish; Zeb and Kallus are 37ish; Pellaeon is 51; Orryn and Mirah, are approx. 5

3 – Han meets Lando and is Chosen (by Chewie); I’m guessing Jacen is born around now, too? - Obi-Wan is 50; Padme is 48; Anakin is approx. 43; Bail is 52; Breha is 51; Palps is 77; Leia is 20; Lavinia is 18; Ezra is 19; Lando is 22; Amilyn is 19; Kanan and Hera are 32ish; Zeb and Kallus are 38ish; Pellaeon is 52; Han is 22

4 – Zeb and Kallus by now have all five kids probably? - Obi-Wan is 51; Padme is 49; Anakin is approx. 44; Bail is 53; Breha is 52; Palps is 78; Leia is 21; Lavinia is 19; Ezra is 20; Lando is 23; Amilyn is 20; Kanan and Hera are 33ish; Zeb and Kallus are 39ish; Pellaeon is 53; Han is 23; Nikolai is 14/15; Julyta probably the same or a bit older(?); Shamie is 9ish; Mirah and Orryn are approx. 7

5 – To the delight of their friends, Han and Leia finally start sleeping together and there is substantially less UST floating around - Obi-Wan is 52; Padme is 50; Anakin is approx. 45; Bail is 54; Breha is 53; Palps is 79; Leia is 22; Lavinia is 20; Ezra is 21; Lando is 24; Amilyn is 21; Kanan and Hera are 34ish; Zeb and Kallus are 40ish; Pellaeon is 54; Han is 24; Nikolai is 15/16; Julyta probably the same or a bit older(?); Shamie is 10ish; Mirah and Orryn approx. 8

6 – Lando and Lavinia start sleeping together regularly, but it’s Just Casual Let’s Not Make It Weird - Obi-Wan is 53; Padme is 51; Anakin is approx. 46; Bail is 55; Breha is 54; Palps is 80; Leia is 23; Lavinia is 21; Ezra is 22; Lando is 25; Amilyn is 22; Kanan and Hera are 35ish; Zeb and Kallus are 41ish; Pellaeon is 55; Han is 25; Nikolai is 16/17; Julyta probably the same or a bit older(?); Shamie is 11ish; Mirah and Orryn are approx. 9

9 – Shamie tells their dads they want to be a Sunpriest, studying with Chirrut in the Haven Temple; if he hasn’t already, Palpatine decides he no longer needs Mother Talzin and kills her; he starts building his power base/collection of client states in earnest - Obi-Wan is 56; Padme is 54; Anakin is approx. 49; Bail is 58; Breha is 57; Palps is 83 (but doesn’t look it because Magic); Leia is 26; Lavinia is 24; Ezra is 25; Lando is 28; Amilyn is 25; Kanan and Hera are 38ish; Zeb and Kallus are 44ish; Pellaeon is 58; Han is 28; Nikolai is 19/20; Julyta probably the same or a bit older(?); Shamie is 14ish; Mirah and Orryn are approx. 12

10 – Leia and Han get married; Lavinia and Lando finally admit that Okay It’s Probably Not Casual - Obi-Wan is 57; Padme is 55; Anakin is approx. 50; Bail is 59; Breha is 58; Palps is 84 (but doesn’t look it because Magic); Leia is 27; Lavinia is 25; Ezra is 26; Lando is 29; Amilyn is 26; Kanan and Hera are 39ish; Zeb and Kallus are 45ish; Pellaeon is 59; Han is 29; Nikolai is 20/21; Julyta probably the same or a bit older(?); Shamie is 15ish; Mirah and Orryn are approx. 13

12 – Jaina is born; Lavinia and Lando probably Officially Get Married or something - Obi-Wan is 59; Padme is 57; Anakin is approx. 52; Bail is 61; Breha is 60; Palps is 86 (but doesn’t look it because Magic); Leia is 29; Lavinia is 27; Ezra is 28; Lando is 31; Amilyn is 28; Kanan and Hera are 41ish; Zeb and Kallus are 47ish; Pellaeon is 61; Han is 31; Nikolai is 22/23; Julyta probably the same or a bit older(?); Shamie is 17ish; Mirah and Orryn are approx. 15

[ARC 3]

-2 – Anakin dies. - Obi-Wan is 62; Padme is 60; Anakin was approx. 55; Bail is 64; Breha is 63; Palps is 89 (but doesn’t look it because Magic); Leia is 32; Lavinia is 30; Ezra is 31; Lando is 34; Amilyn is 31; Kanan and Hera are 44ish; Zeb and Kallus are 50ish; Pellaeon is 64; Han is 34; Nikolai is 25/26; Julyta probably the same or a bit older(?); Shamie is 20ish; Mirah and Orryn are approx. 18; Jaina is 3

-1 – Obi-Wan dies, then Padme; Leia becomes Queen (Han is also technically King at this point, crowned and everything, but this is generally considered Leia’s reign rather than Leia and Han’s reign as Co-Consorts) - Obi-Wan was 63; Padme was 61; Bail is 65; Breha is 64; Palps is 90 (but doesn’t look it because Magic); Leia is 33; Lavinia is 31; Ezra is 32; Lando is 35; Amilyn is 32; Kanan and Hera are 45ish; Zeb and Kallus are 51ish; Pellaeon is 65; Han is 35; Nikolai is 26/27; Julyta probably the same or a bit older(?); Shamie is 21ish; Mirah and Orryn are approx. 19; Jaina is 4

0 – Bail dies; Lavinia becomes Queen’s Own; Thrawn Chooses Pellaeon (who is a little bit What about the whole thing) - Bail was 66; Breha is 65; Palps is 91 (but doesn’t look it because Magic); Leia is 34; Lavinia is 32; Ezra is 33; Lando is 36; Amilyn is 33; Kanan and Hera are 46ish; Zeb and Kallus are 52ish; Pellaeon is 66; Han is 36; Nikolai is 27/28; Julyta probably the same or a bit older(?); Shamie is 22ish; Mirah and Orryn are approx. 20; Jaina is 5

1 – Elena and Alysia are born - Breha is 66; Palps is 92 (but doesn’t look it because Magic); Leia is 35; Lavinia is 33; Ezra is 34; Lando is 37; Amilyn is 34; Kanan and Hera are 47ish; Zeb and Kallus are 53ish; Pellaeon is 67; Han is 37; Nikolai is 28/29; Julyta probably the same or a bit older(?); Shamie is 23ish; Mirah and Orryn are approx. 21; Jaina is 6

2 – Baby Anakin is born - Breha is 67; Palps is 93 (but doesn’t look it because Magic); Leia is 36; Lavinia is 34; Ezra is 35; Lando is 38; Amilyn is 35; Kanan and Hera are 48ish; Zeb and Kallus are 54ish; Pellaeon is 68; Han is 38; Nikolai is 29/30; Julyta probably the same or a bit older(?); Shamie is 24ish; Mirah and Orryn are approx. 22; Jaina is 7; Elena and Alysia are 1

4 – Palpatine starts his real push at the Border and so there is War; Lavinia and Rolan go to work building a network through his client-states; Kallus has probably taken Cassian on has his Second by now - Breha is 69; Palps is 95 (but doesn’t look it because Magic); Leia is 38; Lavinia is 36; Ezra is 37; Lando is 40; Amilyn is 37; Kanan and Hera are 50ish; Zeb and Kallus are 56ish; Pellaeon is 70; Han is 40; Nikolai is 31/32; Julyta probably the same or a bit older(?); Shamie is 26ish; Mirah and Orryn are approx. 24; Jaina is 9; Elena and Alysia are 3; bb!Anakin is 2; Cassian is 35ish (maybe a bit older?)

6 – Jaina is Chosen (by Winter) - Breha is 71; Palps is 97 (but doesn’t look it because Magic); Leia is 40; Lavinia is 38; Ezra is 39; Lando is 42; Amilyn is 39; Kanan and Hera are 52ish; Zeb and Kallus are 58ish; Pellaeon is 72; Han is 42; Nikolai is 33/34; Julyta probably the same or a bit older(?); Shamie is 28ish; Mirah and Orryn are approx. 26; Jaina is 11; Elena and Alysia are 5; bb!Anakin is 4; Cassian is 37ish

6/7 – Final battle with Palpatine; Lavinia’s diplomacy fragments his army; Ezra and Ventress and their Semi-Controlled Chaos carve a path; Leia slays him on the field - Breha is 71/72; Palps was 97/98 (but doesn’t look it because Magic); Leia is 40/41; Lavinia is 38/39; Ezra is 39/40; Lando is 42/43; Amilyn is 39/40; Kanan and Hera are 52/53ish; Zeb and Kallus are 58/59ish; Pellaeon is 72/72; Han is 42/43; Nikolai is 33-35; Julyta probably the same or a bit older(?); Shamie is 28/29ish; Mirah and Orryn are approx. 26/27; Jaina is 11/12; Elena and Alysia are 5/6; bb!Anakin is 4/5; Cassian is 37/38ish

8 – Poe is Chosen (by Baby/BB-8) and comes to Haven; Breha has probably passed away by now but I’m not sure exactly when - Leia is 42; Lavinia is 40; Ezra is 41; Lando is 44; Amilyn is 41; Kanan and Hera are 54ish; Zeb and Kallus are 60ish; Pellaeon is 74; Han is 44; Nikolai is 35/36; Julyta probably the same or a bit older(?); Shamie is 30ish; Mirah and Orryn are approx. 28; Jaina is 13; Elena and Alysia are 7; bb!Anakin is 6; Cassian is 39ish; Poe is 14

13 – Lavinia dies; Finn and Rey are Chosen (by Shaak-Ti and Rolan, respectively) and come to Haven; Rose comes to Haven and she and bb!Anakin enter Healer’s Collegium at the same time - Leia is 47; Lavinia was 45; Ezra is 46; Lando is 49; Amilyn is 46; Kanan and Hera are 59ish; Zeb and Kallus are 65ish; Pellaeon is 79 (and has Retired by now); Han is 49; Nikolai is 40/41; Julyta probably the same or a bit older(?); Shamie is 35ish; Mirah and Orryn are approx. 33; Jaina is 18; Elena and Alysia are 12; bb!Anakin is 11; Cassian is 44ish; Poe is 19; Finn and Rey are 13; Rose is 11

Not in the timeline because Space (and also too many additional characters/ages to add): - Anatole and Ziya probably get married somewhere around when Leia and Han do (year 10 of part 2); he’s 22/23 and she’s about Nikolai’s age. Pavel goes into the Guard at roughly the same time, at 18/19; serves with distinction during Palpatine’s invasion; transitions to spying/covert ops type stuff somehow, working as an agent for whoever the Herald Spymaster is at this point (maybe Cassian? Doubling as Weaponsmaster (when said position is filled by a Herald) makes a lot more sense than doubling as Monarch’s Own, and those are the two we’ve seen…plus it would make sense with Cassian’s canon backstory.)

- Sergey, Alexsi, and Sofya are probably born in reasonable intervals over the next 10 years; Sergey will eventually be Chosen. Spellings on the boys’ names are still subject to change.

- Irene is still a Healer; though she’s a few years younger than bb!Anakin and Rose, probably 4 or 5 when they enter the Collegium.

- Bodhi and Jyn are still a big ol’ question mark (though I'm leaning towards her being the Companion and him the Herald?).

- Baze and Chirrut are around Kallus and Zeb’s age, maybe 5-10 years older. Chirrut is the Priest in the Haven Temple; Baze is retired Guard and currently a blacksmith.

[gh0stchoir]

Splinter already knew that no good news would come. His sons had returned without their sister, and Michelangelo had tears in his eyes. Without a word, he had shown of his twin's bandana, bloody and torn. When Splinter had tried to take it, Michelangelo had flinched and pulled it back to himself, protectively. No one had said anything, they all knew how close the twins were. Not knowing what had happened to Lavinia was terrifying the young turtle. "We'll make a plan to find her", Donnie said, gently putting a hand on Mikey's head. His little brother sniffled, clutching Lavi's bandana tighter. Leo hummed, crossing his arms, his facial expression told he was deep in thought. Raph was on edge, he wanted to punch whoever hurt his baby sister. More so because he didn't knew who did it. Shredder? The Kraang? Some mutant they fought? There was just too many possibilities!

"Uhh...hey." Everyone whipped around. Lavi stood in the entrance of the lair, sheepishly looking at her family. Mikey immediately zoomed past their brothers, tackling his twin into a hug, crying out her name in joy. Leo and Donnie were right behind him, asking a million questions about the various wounds and where she had been. Raph asked if he needed to punch someone. Though they all fell silent and made room when Splinter approached. He put a hand to Lavi's face, before pulling her into a hug, silently thanking whatever higher being for not taking his daughter away a second time. "Um...I brought someone with me. He's super nice, and he cleaned my wounds. I thought...maybe you'd like to meet him..?" Lavi looked back to the tunnel, gesturing for Griffin to come out of hiding.

Griffin slowly approached the five turtles and rat man, his eyes wide as he stared at all of them. "Uh- hello I'm, uh, my name is- G-Griffin." He finally managed to say. He never was a nervous guy, but seeing five turtle people and one tall rat man would make any human nervous!

The rat man approached him, resting his paw on his shoulder. "You are the one who helped my daughter?" He asked. Griffin nodded, stiff as a board under the rat man's touch. Splinter nodded. "Thank you, very much." He said. Griffin saw the glimmer in his eyes. This made him feel a bit more relaxed. Hopefully whatever weird trip he was experiencing would end soon and he could go back to a normal life at his normal highschool. Right..?

"You!! You saved my twin! Thank you thank you thank you!!" Mikey pushed past everyone and hugged Griffin, a happy smile on his face. He froze and let the turtle boy hug onto him, muttering thank you's over and over again. His gaze went up to the other three brothers. One with a purple bandana was looking at Lavinia's bandaged wounds, muttering to himself. One with a blue bandana spoke off to the side with the rat man, staring right at him. And one with a red bandana watched Griffin like a hawk, arms crossed with narrow eyes. Griffin grimaced. He definitely wanted to stay away from him.

"If you don't mind me asking..what are all of your names?" Griffin said aloud.

[asriels]

Do tell us more about Ron's "secret" child with Daphne please! (Only if you want to of course!)

Leonora Lavinia Greengrass is a Piece of Work. She hears her Uncle Draco call her that through a closed door when she’s nine, and she turns to cousin Scorpius and laughs. That’s me, she says to him, her ear still pressed against the door. A piece of work. 

Lo is good at a lot of things and bad at a lot of others. Good things include depending on herself, making other people feel bad about themselves, and fashion. Bad things include empathy, sympathy, and vulnerability. She’s a prickly customer, a real nightmare, a piece of work. Lo gathers all the names to herself and hoards them like gold.

Her mother is not well-suited to motherhood. That’s alright with Lo, because she’s not very suited to daughterhood. They call a truce when Lo is ten: Daphne can do whatever she wants, travel or get boyfriends or anything, and Lo will stop being a bitch about it if Daphne gives her a big enough trust fund and tells her who her father is. Daphne gives her twice the amount of galleons she was expecting, and Lo stops asking about her father.

A lot of the girls in her dorm, when she gets to Hogwarts at last, cry at night. They miss their mothers or fathers or homes or pets or friends. They stay awake at night for hours and hours, clutching their duvets close and trying to muffle their sobs. Lo sleeps like a baby from the minute her head touches the pillow.

There’s a name Lo hears a lot, from her very first week at Hogwarts. Rose Weasley. All the teachers except the ones new that year keep saying it. “Weas- no, sorry, Greengrass, hand out the books please.” “Rose! Rose! Rose, stop talking! Oh, Leonora, my mistake.” “Ro-Leonora. Pay attention.” 

Rose is in the year above Lo. Gryffindor, not Slytherin, but that doesn’t seem to stop the teachers muddling them up. (”My mum always calls me by my sister’s name,” says scrawny Mere Yaxley, and Lo pulls hard enough to hurt on her pigtails. “She’s not my sister, stupid.”) 

Lo wouldn’t say she cares about Rose, exactly, but there’s still some kind of weird connection there. She meets Rose’s eyes across the Great Hall every now and again, and she figures maybe sometimes Rose is called by her name too. It’s a funny kind of bond. They never speak, but it’s there. 

Shortly after Lo turns fifteen, she literally bumps into Rose in a hallway. Rose is sat with her forehead pressed into her knees and her hands over her ears, and Lo turns a corner and walks into her hard enough to fall. They go down in a tangle, both spitting, and when Lo gets back to her feet she finds herself looking in a mirror. (”Watch where you’re sitting, Weasley,” she sneers, because she’s nothing if not consistent. “Do one, Greengrass,” Rose snaps back.) They should turn and walk away, both of them, but they linger without knowing why. If Rose’s eyes were black like coal, black like Lo’s, they could be twins.

On Lo’s sixteenth birthday, two weeks before Christmas, her mother sits down in the parlour next to her and says, “Well, it’s time we talked about your father.” Afterwards, when her mother has drifted away and Lo is sat reeling, all she can think about is Rose Weasley, and how much everything makes sense. 

Another thing that Lo has always been good at is anger. She’s good at nurturing it and using it efficiently. That day, though, she finds herself not so good at it. It starts inside her chest and spreads fast, too fast, so she can’t pin it down and beat it into shape. It swallows her whole, and she finds herself on Ron and Hermione Weasley’s front doorstep without being entirely sure how she got there. Rose opens the door, and she just looks resigned. (”They’re in the kitchen,” she says, standing back to let Lo in, “If you cry, my mum will take it out on Dad and not you.”) 

Lo has always known sensible advice when she hears it. She marches into the Weasleys’ kitchen and she stares hard at Mrs Weasley and she says, “My mum says your husband is my father,” and she holds her facial expression still like ice until her words sink in. Then she bursts into tears. 

Afterwards, while they fight, she sits with Rose in the front room and redoes her make-up. Rose watches her doing it, and Lo figures she’s gearing up to have a go at her until she says, “How do you get your eyeshadow to look like that? It really suits you.” Lo hesitates, and Rose lets her head fall back against the cushions. “I see things. I knew you would come. I’ve known for months.”

Lo’s sure her face is full of question marks, and Rose must feel them because she lifts her head back up again and grins in this odd way, sort of scared and cross and amused all at once.

“I’ve never told anybody,” she admits, holding Lo’s gaze, “not even my parents. It’s weird, you know. When I was little, I always wished I’d get a sister so I could talk to her about it. And now I’ve got you, and it’s not what I meant at all.”

Lo sits there in silence a moment or two longer, and then she pulls a brush out of her bag. “I could do your eyes for you, if you wanted. I mean, I can just do them exactly how I do them myself.” She has always been good at recognising a valuable ally, and an ally with no-one else to turn to is the best kind of ally of all. 

When Ron comes into the sitting room carrying two suitcases, Rose and Lo are sat next to each other on the sofa, intent on Lo’s contouring pallet. Hermione comes in after him, tear-stained, and tries to pin Lo to the cushions with her glare.

“Are you even sorry for coming here like this?”

Lo has started to put all her make-up away, but she pauses at that. She looks up at Hermione and tilts her head, giving it a moment so Hermione can drink in exactly how much she looks like Rose. Like Ron. Just as she’s about to open her mouth and be the cruelest she can be, Rose lays a hand on her arm and squeezes hard enough to hurt.

“Don’t,” Rose murmurs, and Lo astonishes herself and doesn’t.

“I have to go,” she says instead, and stands and heads for the door without turning. On the threshold, she pauses and cranes her neck round to look at her father. “Well,” she says, one eyebrow raised, “aren’t you coming?”

And he does. Out to the front garden and to a café, where they sit awkwardly until Lo has had enough and goes home without a word. Having a father… it’s not something she quite knows what to do with. She’d always thought it would make something undefinable right but instead she just feels off-kilter, like something about herself has changed. When she’d pictured her dad as a kid, he hadn’t been anything like Ron. 

But Lo is also good at tenacity, and sticking things out, and (sometimes) recognising good things when she’s got them. So if she keeps tabs on where Ron is living, and drops in on him every now and again, and starts texting Rose… well, that’s not vulnerability, is it? Not caring too much. That’s just family. Family’s not something she ever thought she could be good at, not when it was just her and her mother. But with a father and two siblings… maybe she could get better.

[thegirlfromoverthepond]

At the Zoo - Chapter 1.

Huge, huge thanks to @xerxia31 for her awesome betaing skills ;) My friend, I would have stopped writing long ago if it wasn't for you.

To dandelion-sunset, you know I was frightened by this story - thank you for pushing me out of my comfort zone :)

 Aesthetics - have you seen how gorgeous they are ? this is the incredible, awesome work of @akai-echo who has so much talent, class and skills i'm left speechless every time she does something for me :)

Here on FFN / AO3

 1.                       Pavo cristatus

 “It’s going to be a big, big, big day!!” the woman in front of Peeta giggled, in a bright blue suit and oversized jacket. She apparently was in charge of communication, but the only things she was communicating at the moment were headaches and too much perfume. Walking on high heels, her steps as big as her skirt would allow, she commented on everything they saw. Even the signs at each one of the crossroads. Or why the trash bins were green. Important questions.

 Peeta followed his co-workers through the maze that was the Zoo, passing by the big monkeys and some strange birds, until the whole crew from Capitol TV reached a brick building that stood out in the sea of green and bamboos, in front of which people wearing zoo uniforms were waiting. They formed small groups, a mass of brown cargo pants and gray tee-shirts, with radios clipped to their belts or the big pockets, buzzing periodically.

Peeta stayed a bit apart with the group of journalists and technicians, not wanting to mix with the crowd of zookeepers in front of him.

 “This is a strange place.” A tattooed man with too many piercing to count held out his hand to Peeta. “I’m Preston Oakfield, but I go by Castor. Sound.”

 “Peeta Mellark. Camera.” Peeta took the extended hand and shook it, almost relieved to have someone to talk to besides the strange woman who had led them here.

 “It’s weird being here, right? I mean, who is going to watch a story about a zoo?” Castor asked, hoisting up the strap of his bag. “But well, it’s three months of work, right?”

 “Right.” Peeta agreed, not wanted to talk too much about it. A three month job was unexpected for him at this point in his career, and he felt the nerves starting to creep up his body at the prospect of using a camera again.

 “Ahum, is this working?” The peacock lady was now in front of the building, tapping the mic in front of her, the noise reverberating through the loudspeakers that had been installed. “Well, Little Teddy says it’s okay, so…” Peeta saw the woman take a deep breath before leaning against the mike.

 “My name is Effie Trinket and I’m the Zoo Head of Communications. As you all know, we’re having new friends join us today for three months! They will be filming you every day, even on the weekends, so please give a warm welcome to the journalists from Capitol TV!”

 Effie clapped, looking straight at the group on the edge of the crowd. Peeta knew the eyes were trained on everyone, but he couldn't help sweating as he tried not to count... how many people were there. He felt Exposed.

 He closed his eyes, took a deep breath to calm his mind, remembering the mantra Dr Aurelius made him memorize. My name is Peeta Mellark. I’m twenty-six years old. I come from Panem, VA. My family owns a bakery. I just came back from Afghanistan where I lost my leg and my friends. To bake cinnamon rolls, you have to just add a touch of rum to the dough to make it better. My name is Peeta Mellark.

 The words were soothing, even if they were only coming from his mind and he was the only one hearing them. They were a certainty, in a world that had become a permanent threat, something he could hang on to in the wee hours of the morning, when sleep evaded him.

 “Come, come, come, introduce yourselves!” Effie’s voice rang in the microphone in front of her, as the group of TV-people started to move, Castor pulling at Peeta’s arm to come with them. They reluctantly walked towards the front of the crowd, regrouping into the three-persons teams that would work together for a few months. Peeta joined Castor and a strange woman, who had half her skull shaved and tattooed, and a lot of piercings.

As Effie introduced the two other teams of journalists first, Peeta took his time scanning the zookeepers in front of him, so many different people and personalities gathered there. He could already spot the shy ones, trying their best to remain unseen behind taller people, the cocky ones, that guy with bronze hair was a sure winner, or the brooding kind like the tall dark man with his arms crossed over his chest, a smaller woman at his side, a scowl etched on her face.

 Peeta looked again at the woman in front of him. There was something about her that held his attention, something he couldn’t pinpoint right now. She was beautiful, but he had seen more beautiful bodies, or lusher hair, and women who smiled.

 “Well, just call me Castor - it’s easier.”

 “Thank you, dear! And now to the next - and last - member of the crew!”

 Peeta felt a tap on his shoulder, as Castor passed by him to regain his former place, before noticing all eyes were on him

 He reluctantly moved towards the microphone, rubbing his sweaty palms on his bleached jeans, starting his mantra yet again. It was  the third time today.

 “Hi, guys, well, I’m Peeta, and I’m a cameraman and I’m looking forward to working with you.” He tried to smile as much as he could, even if it was difficult. Dr A had told him to start smiling more months ago. Here, nobody knew him. Maybe he could try to find who he used to be. After all, what harm could come from a zoo?

 “Well, well, we should get started, right? Crew one is to follow Annie today… Annie, dear, where are you?” Effie looked at the crowd gathered until she spotted a tiny brown haired woman raising her hand, almost shyly. “Here she is, our favorite veterinarian! Come, come, dear”

 Peeta could practically hear the sigh of the vet from where he was - a solid twenty feet away, that almost, almost brought a genuine smile to his lips. He looked as Annie greeted her crew from Capitol TV before walking away, already talking to the journalist, Messallah.

  “Wonderful! Crew Two, you will be with Finnick. Where are-” Effie couldn’t even finish her question when a man stepped in, all dimples and bronze hair, green eyes shining in the morning.

 “Want a sugar cube?” he asked the crew that had been appointed to work with him that day, holding out his hand on which were a couple of the treats.

 “One rule, though - this is for human consumption. Nothing for the animals.” Finnick said, before shaking the hands of the journalists. Peeta noticed how the woman, Lavinia or Octavia he couldn’t remember, looked at Finnick, ogling him from top to bottom shamelessly. They were soon on their way, opposite from where Annie had gone, already chatting together.

 Peeta watched them leaving to the sound of Finnick’s laughter, before his attention turned back to the zookeepers in front of him. Who would he be assigned to? The calm man with chocolate skin, or the spiky-haired brunette with a lot of piercings playing with her swiss army knife? The perky young blonde woman, or the tall one who was eating sunflower seeds? Or would it be the brunette with the silver eyes, her arms crossed over her chest, her scowl deepening with every passing minute.

 “And finally, last but not least, the third crew will be with Gale, our Animal Curator. Gale, darling, can you come over here?”

 Peeta hefted the bag with his camera inside, looking at the zookeepers going away, already grabbing their walkie-talkies, fading into the alleys of the zoo, until only two people remained in front of them - the tall dark haired man, and the woman Peeta had noticed earlier- whispering to each other before they finally parted, sharing a hug. Then the man walked towards them.

 “I’m Gale,” he said sharply, not even extending his hand. “I guess you’ll stay with me all day. See if you guys can survive a full day of work. Let’s go, hope you don’t mind ruining your shoes.”

 “Gale!” Effie chimed in, coming towards the man in the strides her tight pencil skirt allowed. “You do not need to be all animalistic! You’d better behave!”

 “Or what, you’ll tell Haymitch?” Gale snarked.

 “Worse.” Effie smirked, before adding. “I’ll tell Madge.”

 “Effie…” Gale’s voice had lost all pretence of being intimidating.

 “We’ll see how kind you are when you have to sleep on the couch for two weeks. Now, shall we?”

 Peeta could see the spark in Effie’s eyes as she motioned for Gale to move over, before she turned in a flurry of blue and green, her hair never moving as she left on her too high heels towards the administrative building.

 “So. I’m Gale, the animal curator. Which means I’m in charge of all the animals, reproduction programs with the vet, and exhibitions. You’re going to follow me and film whatever you feel like filming then. Ready?”

 Without waiting for their answer, Gale turned in the opposite direction from Effie, all the while talking.

  “I’ll show you around quickly, then I have to go help sexing the baby wallabies. Is that okay for you?”

 Peeta exchanged glances with his teammates, and at their nods, he grabbed his camera from his bag. It felt strange at first to be holding the device again, to feel the weight of it on his shoulder, to realize his fingers still knew where to push or pull, which buttons to use.

 But more importantly, it felt good.

 --

Hard.

 The job was harder than Peeta had thought it would be. Gale literally spent his day pacing the zoo, back and forth, going from helping in the marine department find out if the arctic wolves had mated, to the other side of the park, checking on the giraffes with Johanna - the spiky-haired brunette in charge of the beasts together with lions and leopards too - to check on the impending arrival of a new male in the coming weeks, then running to the petting farm to sex the wallabies.

  They went to the petting farm, and Peeta had every intention of filming that part then heading back to the cafeteria to eat.

 But the wallabies had other ideas. Apparently, they didn’t like being grabbed by their tails and lifted to discover whether they had a pouch or not. Peeta quickly discovered the animals would fight back. And as if it wasn’t difficult enough to film moving animals, outside, he had to take care of where you put your feet, because yes, the prairie was mined with poop. He had to film while said wallabies were boxing back, with their feet.

 To Peeta, it was so surreal watching all of this happening. His mind couldn’t help but go back to places where there was laughter too, even if often, it was covered by the explosions or the sounds of planes above them. The push of an alpaca quickly brought him back to Arrowtown though, in the middle of a prairie, with actual llama drool on his shirt. Or alpaca. Or whatever.

 When they were finally done, Annie and her crew leaving the prairie to go to an emergency involving a marmoset, they followed Gale to the cafeteria, where they were able to sit for a few moments. Peeta welcomed the relief, his prosthetic making his skin itch under his jeans, as rivulets of sweat kept coming under the liner protecting his stump.

“Hope you’re not tired yet. We still have a lot to do this afternoon. And there will be visitors too so we’ll have to be extra careful with your big camera,” Gale said before taking a bite of his sandwich.

 Peeta was about to answer when the silver-eyed woman who had captivated him that morning came rushing in, her long dark braid bouncing on her shoulder as she ran to the head zookeeper.

 “Gale! It’s rascal ! She escaped!”

 Peeta was wondering what rascal had escaped where, who the rascal was, when Gale jumped from his chair, grabbed his sandwich and turned to him. “Mellark, grab your things, we’re going hunting.”

 Hunting? Peeta thougth. I thought zoos were to protect the animals?

 ---

It turned out that hunting wasn’t really hunting, per se.

 And that the rascal was actually Aska, a beautiful snowy owl that had flown away from the bird sector into the countryside surrounding the zoo.

 Which meant they had to hunt down a bird, in the hopes he would willingly want to come onto the big leather falconer glove instead of wandering the woods, as Gale explained, while they all hurried to the other end of the zoo.

 Peeta was already tired. His leg hurt more than he was willing to admit, his back was drenched in sweat at carrying his camera and avoiding the contact with the animals, and his mind - maybe his mind was the least problematic part right now, surprisingly. Having to focus himself as well as the camera on the animals or their keepers who kept moving around, attending to their tasks had kept everything else at bay.

 They soon reached the aviary, where Gale was apparently expected.  Three people, among which the brunette Peeta had seen at the welcoming speech were ready to go, carrying a rather large GPS receiver.

 “You got a signal?” Gale asked the man in front of him, who was checking something on the radar of the GPS.

 “Nothing yet. But Mike said he saw him fly away southwest.”

 “He’ll go northeast,” the young woman with the braid said in an authoritatively voice, before turning to grab a set of keys from the counter nearby.

 “Mike said…” Gale tried to counter.

 “Mike is good at technical stuff, I’m good in birds. I’m heading northeast,” she answered, gathering her things before heading to the door of the aviary.

 “Katniss…”

 “Don’t Katniss me, Gale, I’m heading northeast. She’ll follow the wind,” she added, pointing at a weathervane just outside the now open door.

 The tip of the old, rusty vane was pointing northeast.

 Gale followed her, along with the two other people from the aviary. Peeta was exchanging looks with Castor and their journalist, wondering whether or not they should follow, when Gale turned back to them, asking.

 “Aren’t you supposed to shadow us? Unless you’re afraid of a bumpy ride in a 4x4?”

 If only he knew how many bumpy rides I’ve been on, Peeta thought, trying to not let the memories of another place, months ago, invade his mind. Too many rides in four-wheelers, under the too shiny sun of Afghanistan.

 “Oh, we’re in, handsome!” Cressida answered excitedly for the three of them, grabbing her things, and ushering Castor and Peeta to follow them out.

 “I guess we’re on a hunt for a big white owl…” Castor said.

 Well, that made a nice change from the hunt for big bad guys.

 ---

 Night had fallen when Peeta got back to his room, muscles sore from the exhaustion, his shirt thick with sweat, his stump hurting from the hours he had spent with the zoo crew looking for an owl.

 Said owl who had decided not to come down from the oak tree they had finally found her in, regarding the falconers with disdain. Nobody could make her move from her perch at the top of the tree.

 They gave up when night fell, hoping they would be more lucky catching her the next day.

 Peeta’s crew had been the last to leave the park, long after the official closing hour, long after the two others teams. They had all met later at the hotel’s bar, all excited about their day, all having stories to share.

 Peeta had excused himself as soon as he had finished his beer, telling them he had phone calls to make - which was at least partly true. Because as he contemplated the ceiling, he knew full well he should call Dr. A to tell him about his day, to share his feelings about his first day back to work, but all he could think of were animals.

 And a pair of grey eyes.