#Trail of the Eagles' Nests

[photo-snap-stories]

PL:

Zamek Ogrodzieniec

Znajduje się na Górze Zamkowej - najwyższym wzniesieniu Jury Krakowsko-Częstochowskiej. Pierwsze umocnienia powstały tam jeszcze za panowania Bolesława Krzywoustego, zostały jednak zniszczone podczas najazdu Tatarów w 1241 roku.

Murowany zamek zbudowano za panowania Kazimierza Wielkiego, który nadał go w dzierżawę marszałkowi Królestwa Polskiego, Przedborowi z Brzezia. Przedbór rozbudował umocnienia zamkowe przeznaczając na ten cel znaczne fundusze.

W roku 1387 Władysław Jagiełło przekazał warownię cześnikowi krakowskiemu - Włodkowi z Charbinowic - rekompensując poprzedniemu właścicielowi - Przedborowi z Brzezia -  sporą sumą pieniędzy poniesione wcześniej koszty.

W latach 1530 – 1545 zamek rozbudowano dodając nowe skrzydło i adaptując go do stylu renesansowego.

W 1655 roku twierdza została częściowo spalona przez wojska szwedzkie, które niszczyły ją przez kolejne 2 lata gdy znajdował się tam ich garnizon. Prawie pół wieku po zakończeniu potopu zamek padł ofiarą wojny północnej. Tym razem został doszczętnie spalony przez wojska szwedzkiego króla Karola XII. Po tym wydarzeniu nigdy nie odzyskał świetności.

Ostatni mieszkańcy opuścili zrujnowaną budowlę około 1810 roku.

Ruiny Ogrodzieńca są potężne i przepiękne, co dokładnie zaobserwować można w scenie bitwy o Wzgórze Sodden w „Wiedźminie”. W serialu zamek pełnił rolę twierdzy, która strzegła najwęższego odcinka Jarugi – rzeki o dużym znaczeniu strategicznym i blokowała wojska Nilfgaardu przed dalszą ekspansją na północ.

EN:

Ogrodzieniec Castle, Poland

It is located on Góra Zamkowa - the highest hill of the Kraków-Częstochowa Upland. The first fortifications were built there during the reign of Bolesław Krzywousty, but they were destroyed during the Tartar invasion in 1241.

The brick castle was built during the reign of Casimir the Great, who leased it to the Marshal of the Kingdom of Poland, Przedbor of Brzezie. Przedbór expanded the castle fortifications by allocating significant funds for this purpose.

In 1387, Władysław Jagiełło handed over the stronghold to the ruler of Krakow - Włodek of Charbinowice - compensating the previous owner - Przedbor from Brzezie - with a large sum of money for the previously incurred costs.

In the years 1530 - 1545, the castle was expanded by adding a new wing and adapting it to the Renaissance style.

In 1655, the fortress was partially burned by the Swedish army, which destroyed it for the next 2 years while their garrison was there. Almost half a century after the end of the Deluge, the castle fell victim to the Northern War. This time it was completely burned by the troops of the Swedish king Charles XII. After this event, it never regained its glory.

The last inhabitants left the ruined building around 1810.

The ruins of Ogrodzieniec are powerful and beautiful, which can be clearly seen in the scene of the Battle of Sodden Hill in "The Witcher". In the series, the castle served as a fortress that guarded the narrowest section of the Yaruga - a river of great strategic importance, and blocked Nilfgaard's troops from further expansion north.

[thewulf]

Teaching Trails || Azriel

Summary: Request - can i request a teacher reader x azriel where she's Nyx's teacher/tutor and feyre or rhysand asks az to pick him up since they're busy and he swears he falls in love on sight seeing reader be so sweet on Nyxie and how comfortable Nyx is around reader? just something sweet and fluffy and maybe a super nervous az when reader notices him at the doorway?? You can decide the rest. love your work!

A/N: Ahhhh I loved writing this. Idk I just picture Nyx as a sweet bubbly 5/6 year old in this. Adored writing this!

Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Night Court Reader)

Word Count: 5.0k +

TW: Use of Magic (fluffy!!)

As you stand at the edge of one of the many expansive terraces of the House of Wind, the air around you is crisp, the sky a clear, deep blue above the sprawling city of Velaris below. This majestic residence is perched like an eagle's nest atop a solitary mountain and commands a breathtaking view of the Night Court. Its beauty a sure giveaway to ancient power and elegance. Yet despite its grandeur there’s a poignant isolation to it. Especially for young Nyx, whose days are spent within these walls that soar closer to the stars than to the streets where other children play.

Inside the palace is a labyrinth of ornate halls and vast chambers. Each room a masterpiece of art and architecture designed for gods rather than a playful child. The echo of Nyx’s laughter often bounces off the high ceilings. A reminder of the solitude that accompanies his royal upbringing. He is a small but vibrant figure roaming the endless corridors exploring shadowed corners and hidden nooks. His solitude veiled by the splendor surrounding him.

It's during one such quiet evening as the horizon painted a watercolor of twilight hues that Feyre brings up her growing concern to Rhysand. They are in their private chambers. A place where the masks of High Lord and Lady can be set aside. Where vulnerabilities can be voiced without the weight of a crown.

"Nyx needs more than just us. He needs more than this palace," Feyre starts with her voice steady yet filled with an urgency that draws Rhysand’s full attention. "He’s missing out on normal interactions. The kind that happen away from royal duties and ceremonial greetings. He’s a child. He should be learning through play, through friendships formed in mud and laughter. Not just in state rooms and formal gardens."

Rhysand’s expression is torn. As a father he yearns for Nyx to have every happiness the world can offer. But as a ruler the thought of his son, so precious and so exposed, wandering beyond the enchanted safety of their home is daunting. "It's dangerous, Feyre," he counters. His voice laced with a protective edge. "The world isn’t always kind, especially not to those of royal blood."

"But isn’t it more dangerous to raise him in a bubble? How will he learn to lead? To understand his people, if he only ever sees them from a balcony or at formal events?" Feyre’s hands gesture emphatically. Her eyes alight with passion. "We need to let him explore, Rhys. We need to let him be a child. Not just a prince." Their conversation stretches into the night. Debates entwined with silent contemplations until a resolution begins to dawn much like the first light over the Sidra. Rhysand’s fears don’t dissipate entirely but his love for Nyx and his trust in Feyre’s instincts lead him to a concession.

"Alright," he says finally. A reluctant smile breaking through his concerns. "We’ll find him a teacher. Someone who can guide him, teach him, yes, but also someone who can take him beyond these walls. Let him learn about life. About our people through his own experiences. Not just through stories and reports."

Feyre’s relief is palpable and together they set out to find the perfect candidate. The search is exhaustive with candidates from across Prythian and beyond interviewed. They seek not just an educator but a guardian of sorts. Someone who understands the delicate balance of nurturing a child like Nyx. Someone who can foster his curiosity and protect his spirit.

The search for a tutor for young Nyx was not a decision taken lightly. Within the ornate conference room of the House of Wind, Feyre, Rhysand, and other key members of the Inner Circle—save for Azriel, who was away on duty—gathered to commence the rigorous interview process. The room was filled with an air of solemnity as each candidate presented themselves. Their credentials scrutinized not just for academic excellence but for a deeper understanding and alignment with the values of the Night Court.

Mor, with her keen sense of people, led the questioning. Her bright eyes missing nothing. Cassian injected moments of levity lightening the mood with his humor. While Amren's piercing gaze seemed to delve into the very souls of the candidates searching for sincerity and resilience. Each member of the Inner Circle brought their own perspective ensuring that the chosen teacher would not only educate Nyx academically but would also nurture his emotional and cultural development.

Then you entered the room. With a demeanor both warm and composed you introduced yourself. As you spoke about your educational philosophy making sure to emphasize experiential learning and emotional intelligence the panel was visibly impressed. Your background in educational psychology coupled with your years of experience teaching in diverse environments highlighted your capability to adapt and thrive in any teaching scenario. More importantly your genuine passion for fostering young minds resonated deeply with Feyre who nodded appreciatively at your thoughtful answers.

Throughout the interview, your approach to education which focused on developing both the intellect and the heart of a student was clearly aligned with the Night Court's ideals. You spoke of the importance of understanding each student's unique needs and adapting lessons to fit those needs. Even suggesting outdoor classes and cultural excursions that would allow Nyx to learn about his heritage in a tangible, engaging way.

As the interviews concluded and the candidates departed the room buzzed with discussions. It was clear to everyone that you stood out not just for your qualifications but for the gentle strength you exhibited. A trait they all deemed perfect for handling the sensitive nature of their prince's education.

When the decision was made Feyre personally reached out to offer you the position. The joy and excitement in your voice as you accepted was palpable. Aware of the immense responsibility of teaching the heir of the Night Court you were nonetheless thrilled by the opportunity to make a significant impact in a young child's life.

As you prepared to step into this new role your heart was buoyant with anticipation. Not just for the challenges ahead but for the chance to contribute to shaping a future leader of the Night Court. The trust placed in you by such revered figures was not just an honor but a truth to your life's work and passion igniting a fervent desire to start this new chapter.

In the heart of Velaris away from the towering isolation of the House of Wind you spend a delightful morning with Nyx at one of the city's lush public gardens. The day is warm. The gentle buzz of the city a distant backdrop to the laughter and learning that fills the air around the two of you.

You laid out a picnic blanket under the shade of a towering silverleaf tree. The spread covered with books, sketchpads, and an assortment of colorful pencils. Today's lesson is about the flora and fauna of Prythian. A topic that has Nyx bubbling with excitement and curiosity. As he sketches a butterfly that landed briefly on the edge of your blanket you explain the role of pollinators in the ecosystem, delighted by his insightful questions and the meticulous care he takes with his drawing.

"Nyx, do you see how the colors of its wings can tell us about its environment?" you ask as you were pointing to the delicate patterns that mirror the blooms around you.

"Yes!" he exclaims. His eyes lighting up with understanding. "It’s like camouflage, right? They blend in to stay safe from predators!"

"Exactly," you reply. Your heart swelling with pride at his quick grasp of the concepts.

The lesson shifts seamlessly from science to history as you guide Nyx through the stories of the Night Court. Each tale woven into the landmarks visible from your spot in the garden. Nyx listens, rapt, as you tell him about the ancient fae who once walked these paths. The battles they fought and the peace that now thrives in their stead.

As the morning progresses Nyx's natural curiosity leads him to a question that makes you pause. His small voice tinged with genuine wonder. "Why don't you have wings like my mom, dad, Uncle Cassian and Uncle Az? Like that pretty butterfly?" he asks. His head tilting as he regards you thoughtfully.

You smile softly, touched by his innocent inquiry. "Well, not all fae have wings, Nyx. Just like not all flowers have thorns," you explain using an analogy you know he'll understand. "Each of us is unique with different abilities and gifts. It’s what makes us all special in our own way."

Nyx nods considering this. "I think it’s cool you don’t need wings to fly. You have books and stories that can take you anywhere," he decides with a wise look crossing his features that makes you chuckle.

"That’s a wonderful way to put it, Nyx. And remember, we all have our own ways of soaring," you say ruffling his hair affectionately.

As you begin to pack up the day's learning materials you lean closer to Nyx with a conspiratorial whisper. "Tomorrow, we’re going to do something special. We'll join a class with other children your age. You’ll get to play and learn together with them," you tell him watching his face light up with sheer delight.

"Really? I'll have friends to play with?" His voice is filled with excitement. His earlier thoughts about wings forgotten in the anticipation of meeting new friends.

"Absolutely," you assure him sharing in his excitement. "It’ll be a lot of fun and you’ll make lots of new friends."

Nyx's eyes sparkle with anticipation as he begins to imagine the possibilities. "I'm going to tell mom and dad all about it tonight!" he exclaims already planning out his evening conversation. "And I’ll tell Uncle Az too. He likes hearing about my adventures."

The mention of Azriel, whom you've only heard about through Nyx’s enthusiastic stories, adds an interesting layer to your perception of the mysterious figure. "That sounds like a great idea," you respond, amused, and intrigued by Nyx’s affectionate mention of his uncle. "It seems Uncle Az is quite the hero in your stories."

"Yeah! He’s really cool! He can disappear like a shadow and is always on secret missions," Nyx says. His admiration for Azriel evident in his wide eyes and animated gestures.

The day ends with Nyx bouncing along the path back to you classroom chatting animatedly about all the things he hopes to do with the other children. His excitement about sharing his upcoming school day with his family, especially with his beloved Uncle Az, whom you've yet to meet but feel like you already know through Nyx's tales, fills the air with joy.

Your heart warms at his enthusiasm knowing that these new experiences are exactly what he needs. As Nyx sketches another flower with his small hand moving confidently you know these moments of joy and anticipation are as precious to him as they are to you, nurturing not just a young prince’s mind but also his spirit. The connections he's building with his family, with you, and soon with his peers are shaping him into a thoughtful, well-rounded individual, ready to explore the world with confidence and curiosity.

As the sun begins to dip below the horizon casting a warm, golden light through the windows of your classroom the day's adventures wind down to a quieter, more reflective pace. You sit in a cozy corner of the room on a soft, plush cushioned area you've set up specifically for reading. Nyx nestles beside you as his energy from earlier now softened into the gentle tiredness of a day well spent. In your hands a beautifully illustrated book about the legends of Prythian opens to a page where the heroic deeds of ancient warriors are painted in vivid colors.

As you read aloud, your voice smooth and soothing, Nyx's eyelids begin to flutter gently. You notice his weary smile as he listens. The adventures of the day transforming into the adventures in the pages. Gently, almost instinctively, you begin to caress his hair. Smoothing it back from his forehead in a tender, rhythmic motion. It's a peaceful scene, the kind of simple, heartfelt moment that often goes unnoticed in the bustling life of the Night Court.

Unknown to you his Uncle Azriel stands at the doorway having arrived to pick up Nyx. He pauses there, a silent observer, taken aback by the tranquility and warmth of the tableau before him. His task had been simple. He was to retrieve Nyx and bring him home but the scene he encounters tugs at something deep within him. A longing for such unguarded peace.

Azriel watches as Nyx's breathing deepens, the sweet child drifting closer to sleep with each gentle brush of your hand. Your care for Nyx, so natural and affectionate, strikes a chord in Azriel. He's seen many facets of life. So many forms of relationships and bonds but the simplicity and purity of this moment resonate with him profoundly.

He remains there at the threshold hesitant to interrupt the moment. He was captivated by the gentleness of your interactions with Nyx. The world he usually inhabits—one of shadows and secrets—feels miles away from the soft warmth of this sunlit room. In this pause Azriel realizes that his task isn't just about escorting Nyx. It's about respecting and appreciating the sacred, everyday magic that people like you bring into Nyx's life.

Eventually though the story comes to an unfortunate end, and you close the book before looking down at Nyx to see him fully asleep. A contented expression on his young face. As you carefully consider how to wake him Azriel finally clears his throat softly announcing his presence.

You look up, startled slightly, your eyes meeting his for the first time. There's a moment of mutual acknowledgment. A silent appreciation for the scene he's just witnessed. An understanding that while your worlds may be different the care you show to Nyx bridges them beautifully. Azriel steps into the room. His movements gentle as he did not want to disturb the serene atmosphere you've created.

"Thank you for taking such good care of him," Azriel says quietly. His voice carrying a warmth that surprises even him. "He obviously treasures these moments with you."

"You're welcome. It's truly a pleasure teaching him," you reply with a warm smile. Your eyes reflecting genuine affection for Nyx.

As you gently wake Nyx his eyes flutter open gradually clearing as they adjust to the presence of another in the room. When he spots Azriel standing quietly by the door a bright, sleepy smile spreads across his face. He quickly scrambles to his feet, excitement replacing any remnants of sleepiness.

"Uncle Az!" Nyx exclaims. His voice filled with delight as he runs into Azriel's open arms. Azriel catches him effortlessly before lifting him into a warm hug. They share a moment, uncle and nephew reunited, their easy laughter filling the room. You grin recognizing him as the infamous Azriel in Nyx’s life.

Then as if struck by a sudden realization Nyx turns back towards you with a look of proud excitement lighting up his features. With a firm grip on Azriel's hand he pulls him closer to you and announces, "This is Miss Y/N, my favorite teacher ever!" His voice carries through the room filled with genuine admiration and joy.

Azriel's gaze shifts to you. A slight tension beneath his calm demeanor as he processes Nyx's enthusiastic introduction. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he says, his voice steady but softer than usual, a subtle undercurrent of nervousness mingling with his words.

You smile warmly, extending your hand in greeting. "I've heard a lot about you, Azriel. Nyx tells me you're quite the hero," you say. Your tone light and inviting.

Azriel takes your hand and for a moment his usual composure falters under your gaze. He's momentarily taken aback not just by the warmth of your smile but by the unexpected impact of your presence. She's beautiful, he thinks, and kind... The realization that he's slightly awestruck surprises him. He finds himself momentarily lost for words.

"And I've heard you've been learning about heroes in your lessons with Nyx," he manages to say his voice carrying a hint of warmth that rarely surfaces. Nyx obviously pleased with the exchange claps his hands excitedly.

"Can we all walk back home together?" Nyx asks looking up at both of you with hopeful, bright eyes, “Please!” He adds in for good measure as if you weren’t going to immediately say yes to him.

"Of course, Nyx," Azriel responds after looking to you for confirmation.

You nod, gathering your belongings, and the three of you step out into the cool evening of Velaris. As you walk Nyx fills the air with chatter about his day seamlessly weaving together his two worlds with tales of butterflies and ancient warriors. Azriel listens with a soft smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His initial nervousness easing as he's drawn into the simple joy of the moment. His thoughts linger on you, intrigued, and unexpectedly moved by the genuine connection forming between you, Nyx, and himself. A beautiful end to an enriching day.

As the three of you begin your walk back through the twilight streets of Velaris the usual calm that Azriel embodies seems to waver slightly. He is typically a figure of stoic composure, his presence both commanding and elusive shadowed by the mysteries of his duties as the Spymaster. However, today, as he walks beside you, something is distinctly different.

Azriel's steps are measured. His usual fluid grace tempered by a hint of uncertainty. His glances towards you are quick, almost cautious, as if he's trying to decipher an unfamiliar script. The conversation flows easily around Nyx's enthusiastic chatter about his day but each time you turn your attention directly to Azriel a subtle tension flickers across his features.

"You really have a wonderful way with Nyx," you say hoping to bridge the gap with kindness. "He's always so excited to share what he's learned with you."

Azriel nods. A slight flush visible beneath the dusky hue of his skin. "Thank you," he murmurs as his voice is softer than usual. "It's... it's good to see him so happy. You do a lot for him."

The simplicity of your interactions, the easy smiles and gentle teasing you offer to Nyx, resonate with Azriel in a way that is both heartening and unnerving. He's unaccustomed to feeling this way—unsettled yet drawn in, eager yet shy. His hands though normally steady and sure whether wielding a weapon or a shadow clench slightly at his sides betraying his internal struggle.

As Nyx runs ahead a little, bursting with energy as he recounts another part of his day, Azriel takes a moment to compose himself. He glances at you again. This time holding your gaze a moment longer than before. The vulnerability rarely seen by others is palpable now as it was a quiet admission of his nervousness.

"I'm... not usually this unsure," Azriel confesses quietly almost to himself. "But there's something about these moments…. seeing Nyx so at ease with you. It's more comforting than I anticipated."

Your response is a gentle smile, one that acknowledges his admission without pressing further. It's a smile that seems to say you understand that the quiet spaces between words can be filled with kindness, not just silence.

The rest of the walk continues with a softer ease. A budding respect forming amidst the shared glances and the fading light of day. Azriel's initial nervousness slowly ebbs away instead replaced by a quiet appreciation for the unexpected warmth this evening has brought into his usually guarded world.

As the three of you approach the grandeur of the House of Wind, the towering structure casts long shadows over the cobblestone paths. It’s presence as awe-inspiring as it is imposing. Nyx who was still bubbling with energy despite the day's adventures, rushes ahead. Clearly he was eager to recount his tales to Feyre and Rhysand. You pause at the entrance. The vast doors open as if welcoming back its prince.

"It's been a wonderful day, Nyx," you say, giving him a soft hug. "Don't forget to draw that butterfly we talked about!"

"I won't, Miss Y/N!" Nyx promises. His voice echoing slightly in the vast entryway. He turns and dashes inside as his laughter lingered in the air.

You turn to Azriel with a smile gracing your lips. "Thank you for letting me share part of your evening. I should head back home now."

Azriel’s expression shifts. Concern etching his features. "It’s getting late," he observes while glancing at the skies, now painted with the deep blues and purples of dusk. "Please, allow me to walk you back to your home. The streets can be less than forgiving at this hour."

You pause appreciating his concern but ready to reassure him of your safety. "That’s very kind of you, Azriel, but it’s no worry. I know these streets well," you say as you turned to make your way down the path.

Before you can take more than a few steps a subtle but firm presence stops you. Looking down you see one of Azriel’s shadows has stretched out across the path in front of you almost playfully barring your way. It's a gentle unspoken plea that catches you by surprise echoing Azriel’s silent wish for you not to go alone.

Azriel takes a step forward. His gaze earnest. "I would truly feel better if I could ensure your safe return. Please," he adds. A rare hint of vulnerability in his voice that you hadn't expected.

Seeing the genuine concern in his eyes and touched by his quiet insistence you nod to him with a smile spreading across your face. "Alright, Azriel, if it means that much to you then I’d welcome the company," you agree. The warmth in your tone matching the softness in his eyes.

"Thank you," he replies visibly relieved. He quickly steps inside to ensure Nyx is settled and returns to you with a more relaxed demeanor ready to accompany you.

As you and Azriel begin the walk back to your home the streets of Velaris are bathed in the gentle glow of the stars and softly lit lanterns casting an enchanting light over the cobblestones. The atmosphere lends a serene backdrop to the conversation that begins to unfold between you.

"You know, Nyx speaks so highly of you," you start by breaking the initial silence with a warm tone. "He's always so excited after spending time with you. You must have some exciting tales from your duties."

Azriel chuckles softly. A sound so serene that it seems to dance in the night air. "Nyx has a way of making everything sound more thrilling than it might actually be. But yes, there are times when my duties hold some... intrigue." He pause, as if weighing what to share. "Mostly, I'm just ensuring that the court and our lands are safe. It's not always as adventurous as Nyx might depict."

"And what about when you're not cloaked in shadows and mystery?" you ask genuinely curious about the man beside you beyond his role as the Spymaster.

A hint of surprise flickers across Azriel's face. Surprised yet pleased by the interest you’re showing in him. "I enjoy solitude, usually. Reading, training... Though I have a fondness for sword making. It’s a craft that requires precision and patience much like my usual work but with a more tangible, creative result."

"Sword making? That’s fascinating," you remark smiling at the thought. "It must be rewarding to create something so intricate and vital."

"It is," he agrees. His voice softening ever so slightly. "And what about you? What do you enjoy doing in your free time?"

You nod before reflecting on your simple pleasures. "I love hiking and just watching nature. There’s something peaceful about observing the natural world. Just seeing how it exists so beautifully without any need for interference."

The conversation flows naturally from there. The earlier apprehension melting into a mutual appreciation for each other’s hobbies and life outside of official duties. As you talk Azriel’s steps seem to synchronize with yours. His presence an incredibly comforting shadow by your side.

When you finally reach your doorstep the city around you has quieted even further. The only sounds being the distant murmur of the Night Court's nightlife and the gentle rustling of leaves. Azriel pauses, standing just a bit closer than before. His usually guarded demeanor dimmed under the starlight.

"Thank you for allowing me to walk you home," he says. His voice sincere and gentle as if reflecting the calmness of the evening.

"It was my pleasure," you respond, finding yourself reluctant to end the conversation. "I enjoyed our talk, Azriel. It’s nice to see the person behind the shadows."

He smiles. A true smile that reaches his eyes making them sparkle with a rare lightness. "I did as well. More than I expected. Perhaps we could do this again, maybe take a hike together?"

"I’d like that," you agree. Your heart light with the promise of future conversations, of shared paths both literal and metaphorical.

"Good night, Miss Y/N. Take care," Azriel says as he steps back ready to meld back into the shadows from which he came.

"Good night, Azriel. And thank you… for everything tonight," you call after him. A smile still playing on your lips as you watch him disappear into the night. The connection between you both stronger and sweeter for the shared walk under Velaris’ starlit sky.

In the days that follow Azriel finds himself inventing reasons to visit your classroom or accompany Nyx to his lessons more often than strictly necessary. Each visit, purportedly to check on Nyx’s educational progress or to discuss scheduling with you becomes a cherished opportunity for him to engage in brief, yet meaningful conversations with you.

Each encounter, ostensibly casual, subtly deepens his affection and admiration for you. He begins to notice the small details: the way your eyes light up when discussing a new teaching method, the gentle patience with which you guide Nyx through difficult lessons, and the enthusiasm that bubbles up when you talk about your nature hikes. Azriel who was typically reserved and composed finds himself drawn into your world of vibrant enthusiasm and heartfelt dedication.

One afternoon as Azriel stands somewhat hidden by the doorway of your classroom just like he did that first day he met you observes a particularly touching scene. Nyx, having mastered a particularly tricky spell, turns to you with a triumphant grin. You laugh, your joy as vivid as the sparkle in Nyx's eyes. He swears your laughter seems to light up the room.

Watching this Azriel feels a warmth spread through him. A warmth that has little to do with the sun filtering in through the windows. It’s in this simple, unguarded moment that he realizes his feelings for you have deepened beyond mere admiration. He's not just falling for your kindness towards Nyx but also for the genuine spirit and infectious joy you bring into every interaction.

As he steps away from the doorway with a thoughtful smile playing on his lips Azriel knows that what he feels is something profound and undeniable. Your spirit which was so vibrant and full of life calls to him in a way that no one else ever has. And as he walks away with his shadows trailing behind him he’s certain of one thing. He wants to explore where this connection might lead not just for Nyx's sake but for his own heart’s as well.

After ensuring that Nyx was safely back at the House of Wind you begin to make your way back towards your home. The day's light is waning casting long shadows that stretch across the cobblestone streets of Velaris, adding a mystical allure to the city’s evening charm.

As you step forward, the sound of your footsteps is a soft echo in the quieting city. You're lost in thought pondering the pleasant interaction with Nyx and looking forward to the solitude of your evening walk home. However, before you can get far you hear Azriel’s voice calling out from behind you.

“Wait, please!” His tone carries a blend of urgency and hesitation that halt’s you in your tracks.

You turn around surprised to see him approaching quickly. His usually composed demeanor replaced by a slight breathlessness. The shadows that always linger around him seem to pulse in sync with the heightened beat of his heart.

Azriel catches up to you. His expression earnest. “I just wanted to ask properly,” he starts, his voice steadying as he meets your gaze. “Would you join me for a hike this evening? There’s a trail not far from here that’s especially beautiful in the evening light. I think you’d really enjoy the views, and...” He pauses before taking a breath reassuring himself, “I would really enjoy the company.”

Your smile deepens, touched by his sincerity and the vulnerable way he presents his request. The softening of his features and the hopeful look in his eyes paint a picture of a man stepping beyond the shadows that define him.

“I would love to, Azriel,” you reply warmly. Your voice filled with genuine excitement. “It sounds like a perfect way to end the day.”

Relief washes over Azriel’s face. His usual stoic mask giving way to a rare, genuine smile. “Thank you,” he says as if a weight was lifting from his shoulders. “Shall we meet at the edge of the city in half an hour?”

“That sounds wonderful,” you agree already anticipating the quiet beauty of the trail and the shared moments ahead.

As you both part ways to prepare for the evening hike the anticipation of the upcoming adventure brings a new spring to your step. Azriel turns back once more watching you walk away, his heart lighter. He realizes just how much he’s looking forward to exploring not only the natural wonders of Velaris but also the potential of a new and blossoming relationship with you. The thought brings that rare and hopeful smile to his lips. One that he carries with him as he disappears into the shadows to ready himself for the evening.

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[death---dealer]

Jealous Noa does something to me. 😚

hi uh thanks satan now i cant stop thinking about it let's get FERAL

NSFW CONTENT BELOW ( 18+ ) PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK THANK YOUUUU.

Imagine Noa like... Denying you seeing your friend ( another male ape in the clan who you've gotten close with ). Noa brings it up of course, a bit bitter at the way you smelled that particular afternoon, maybe some added stressors like the Elders being on his ass about something.

Like, you have accidentally brought this Apes SCENT into the nest? How DARE? It's on your clothing, it's in your HAIR, soaked into your SKIN? That's how close in proximity you've been, you're defending yourself, Noa knows that and there's rational thought in there somewhere but he doesn't like it. "You're not allowed to see him again."

"You can't stop me from seeing my friends, Noa!"

"Do you... want to bet?" A phrase you had taught him comes back as he rounds near you, the intentions in his eyes flurrying to you as you swallowed and nodded. Yeah, you wanted to bet. You wanted to find out. "What are you gonna do to me, Eagle Boy?" Your voice is nothing more than a tease to him.

And well

Your clothes are nothing but a tangled mess on the ground, torn to PIECES because Noa doesn't feel like sparing them a second chance, the absolute carnage of his canines against your neck, him swiping your body so you're pressed against him, your back flushed to his chest and he starts trailing his bites along the back of your neck and RIGHT BETWEEN YOUR SHOULDER BLADES.

Right in the most tender spot that he can find and he's holding you against him as you're moaning, squirming and telling him that you're sorry, that you won't hang out with him again and he just. Let's you rub against him like that, letting your scent rub against him of course, but in return, you're getting absolutely blasted with his own and something deep inside of him knows that it's going to take a lot of washing for it to fade.

Plops you right on the nest, face down he doesn't know how to handle his emotions looking at your face, thinking that this other Ape had more intentions with you than you were really willing to realize.

No foreplay this time, he's mounting you. You're his and you know you are as your body is reacting to him, urging him to take you as you moaned his name.

No pleasure outside of the brief moment he shatters into you and your hands are hard to grasp the animal pelt below you, lungs rattling at the pure force and drive of his hips snapping into yours.

I have a feeling he'd be spiteful enough to make you wait to orgasm though, quick for himself to fill you to the brim, marking you even further as you squiggle against him and he can feel you tightening around him as he continues at a slower pace, content in his actions as he light licks the blood from your shoulder blades, lapping his tongue around and giving artistic swirls of red against your skin.

You're begging him, literally, to let you cum. To touch you, to do anything, legs shaking and forearms tense as you were struggling to keep yourself up. You think he's done? No, no. He is on his butt, grasping your legs and tearing you right against him, back once again flushed to his chest as he helps you right him, your legs being almost suspended in air as Noa uses the strength he had to practically man-handle you on his cock. Hard, he's relentless and mean almost, feeling the tug of bruising along the softer nature of your inner thighs but you don't want it to stop. He brushes his tongue along the side of your neck, cementing even more of himself on you as you toss your head back against his shoulder as you finally orgasm against him.

Afterwards is really nice and tender tho like. Noa making sure that he didn't hurt you, making sure that you were okay as he racks his hand through your hair ( Hey another sprinkling of his scent all over you, how sweet <3 ). You're face down in the nest and just laugh as he looks at the pretty nasty bite mark between your shoulder blades with a bit of guilt, thinking that he had actually hurt you. But, you turn your face and laugh softly at him and mutter, "So it took hang out with another Ape to get you to come out like that? I need to hang out with them more."

[reddesires]

Hello! Newer follower here, just wanted to say your writing is amazing! So happy I came across your page! 🫶

Would love to request Noa x human female reader, maybe Noa courting (or trying to court) her?

Courting Headcanons [Noa x Human!Reader]

Noa x Human!Reader

Fandom: (Kingdom Of The) Planet Of The Apes

Rating: No warnings.

A/N: *elegantly opens platter* Your meal of scrumptious Noa courting headcanons with a side of oblivious reader lol thank you for the request, I look forward to providing more in the future 💓

• Noa is very inexperienced in the ways of love. He's not only inexperienced in the courting acts of his clan, but he has no idea what humans would consider as a potential mate.

•The first step to the courting process for him would be to receive his mother's blessing, he's obviously very nervous and conscientious when bringing the matter up to her (hes very much a mama's boy) She ofc is very accepting in his choice of mate.

•He'll start providing you with anything possible, accessories, food, or even small trinkets he makes on his downtime. He's not only trying to display his usefulness as a mate, but it's a natural primal instinct to want to provide for his potential future mate.

•He'll scent mark you by barely just grazing you with his own body, you're unaware he's even doing this but everyone in the clan is very much aware of his scent clinging to you as walk through the camp

•He's made it his life's mission to get you alone every chance he can get, quality time with you not only boosts his chances of being your potential mate but shows that he can truly dedicate his time to you and future kin (he's also head over heels for you and can't get enough of your company).

•He puts on displays of being strong around you and he's unsure if you truly understand his intentions of him showing off his strength (he refuses to be discouraged by your lack of response, it only motivates him to show that he can protect you as your mate).

•Very very VERY protective of you, it's almost like he can't bear the thought of you being out of his sight and he'll just about drop everything if your intending to wander outside of the clans parameters (you put this off as him being worried that you'll encounter something dangerous, running into an ape outside of the eagle clan is a risk not worth taking)

•Insists you accompany him to the eagle nests in the high tree, you're pretty nervous being in such crucial space. The eagle clan dedicates a lot of their time and effort into their eagles, and you find it the most admirable trait of theirs. Noa watches you with a gentle expression as you softly scratch the underside of Eagle Sun's neck, his feather puffing in response with a content chirp.

•Asks you if he can intertwine Eagle Sun's azure feather into your hair and is filled with pride when you openly accept, your expression wondrous and content at the beautiful feather braided into your hair (Noa preening at the display, this entire interaction happening infront of Soona and Anaya, their mouths falling into an 'O' and excited quiet hoots escaping them).

•You being entirely OBLIVIOUS to all the courting acts that Noa has been throwing at you before Soona made you aware, your brain just short circuiting with embarrassment before just bolting off to find Noa.

•Him already on trail to you for another day of courting before you absolutely bombard onto him with vigor. "Noa! I didn't know!"

•You grabbing his face into your hand as you pull him into you, kissing your foreheads together, beaming in absolute happiness at his prospect. Noa responding immediately in kind relieved that you finally accepted.

•Finally your Mates.

[ape-apocalypse]

Three deleted scenes have been dropped ahead of the digital/hard copy release of Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes.

Sylva and Lightning on Mae’s trail

Noa going after Mae and then protecting her from Proximus’ apes

Extended scene of Noa, Soona and Anaya climbing to the eagle nest

Comic Book Resource claims in their article with the clip of Noa and Mae that there will be 14 deleted/extended scenes, each one with commentary by director Wes Ball. With the addition of the raw cut of the film, without any CGI for the apes, this will be an unprecedented look at the production process of a rebooted Apes film. I’m so excited to get my hands on all these behind the scenes features and deleted clips!

[seabeck]

Photos from yesterday

Left to right: A new waterfall for KWS!, western fence lizard I saved from my dog, gnome plant (parasitic plant very rare), ribbed bog moss (new moss!), big bird(?) bone, hummingbird nest, eagle feathers, a trail worn into the forest floor by ants that leads to an abandoned car, meadow death camas (again!), the slough

[slayfk]

A Letter From Banner Elk

by Chris Davis

An intro from slayfk: Banner Elk is a small municipality in Avery County, North Carolina. It’s right near Boone, Valle Crucius, and Blowing Rock—that whole area. It’s a cute town that is home to a large amount of elderly retirees and many local shops. Hurricane Helene completely cut Banner Elk off from the rest of the world. Residents have no internet, no power, no way to get out. It is only accessible by air. The bridge that connects it to the rest of the world looks like this now:

Banner Elk is a beautiful town full of kind people and they need help. Chris Davis, a resident of Elk River in Banner Elk, wrote a plea to the outside world and managed to get it through. I will paste it below, as it’s incredibly important to read.

“Inside the Elk River community of Banner Elk, we are stranded. No power, no water. All day Saturday we cut trails through the trees fallen over the roads, in hope small vehicles can move around and we can check on each other.

If we reach the bottom of the mountain, we understand that the bridge over the Elk River is out. We are stranded. But, we do not know how stranded everyone else is.

We need intelligence; status of the outside world. Infrastructure. For instance, it would help to know when roads will be repaired so that help can come.

There are 20 horses at the barn. They probably have water for three days. Horses will drink 10 gallons of water a day. Do the math.

There are elderly people on the mountain. One lady has so many trees to her house we cannot see our way to cut through to check on her.

It seems as if a flood washed out the bottom and a tornado took out everything else.

Some homes have generators. That does not mean people whose generators are running are actually here. I hear them running. It is only a matter of time before fuel runs out.

I am able to connect with you because one neighbor, if he stands in the right place on his deck, has use of a telephone that allowed me to reach my wife.

She connected with my out of town neighbor who has a generator who shared her Wi-Fi password that I can at least come to their house charge batteries and send you this note.

We hear rumors of helicopters coming in to rescue people.

It is probably worse somewhere else. We will continue to try to clear the roads in our community to support one another and be ready for an evacuation.

Obviously, the Mountain communities will need all the help they can get. Immediately and later.

In the meantime, basic facts matter a lot. We just need to know what the situation is so that we can make rational decisions.

I’m only getting bits and pieces of information from other people such as Newland is flooded and the National Guard is there; mud slides block the Eagles nest community from getting out; the road to Boone is washed out…”

An outro from slayfk: This is not a unique story. Towns all across Appalachia and the southeast states are cut off from the world or utterly decimated. Asheville is the most notable, but there’s also Chimney Rock NC, Marshall NC, Junaluska NC, Swannanoa NC, Biltmore Village NC, and more. Entire towns are ruined. People are trapped. People are trapped with no way to escape and they don’t know what’s going to happen to them. People are starving, animals are starving, 600 people are missing and 100 people are dead.

Appalachia is suffering. No one in power cares.

Talk about us. Donate to rescuers and aid funds. Don’t let the government sweep us under the rug again. We are here and we need help.

[prussianbluepuppy]

✨What up it’s Wing AU 🦅✨

Ghoap HCs

Simon, who was born with blond feathers, going through all that trauma and stress until his wings turn white. Unsettling but adds to the image of being Ghost. Covers them in ash and soot for stealth ops. Has become eerily good at keeping his wings still on base to not drop dark dust in a trail on the floor.

Johnny, who has naturally dark wings that Ghost is definitely not jealous of, by contrast is always fidgeting his wings. If he wasn’t so expressive in the face you can read his mood by his wings. It makes his joints ache to ponder how Ghost keeps his wings so still.

Soap, who understands but is no less appalled Ghost covers his wings in black powder and does the bare minimum to preen them after the op.

Dad!Price is real, and he’s the only one Ghost will consider letting help preen his wings. That is, until Price is away doing recon when Ghost and Soap return from a weeks long mission, and Simon’s wings are in a sorry state and he’s exhausted, cleaning them will take hours and—and Soap offers. Genuine and without even the notion of holding it over Ghost’s head. He accepts; he regrets doing so the first few minutes when he keeps flinching and looking over his shoulder for an enemy that Soap isn’t. Soap is patient, though, minding whatever boundaries Ghost seems to have and after a while something must click because the tension just bleeds out of Ghost’s shoulders.

Price begins to notice after a while Simon hasn’t asked him for help in a couple months but his wings are looking quite tidy these days.

It’s a happy, albeit quiet, revelation for Price and Soap when the white feathers slowly molt out, and Ghost’s wings turn sandy blond.

Johnny loves doing silly things with molted feathers, like use them for bunny ears, or a mustache.

Ghost about had a heart attack after nobody noticed in the chaos of a mission Soap had broke several blood feathers and the man passed out in the chopper back to base, not immediately evident he hadn’t been shot.

Soap, who drops his wings in the field when they aren’t immediately needed to keep them from being targets. Ghost, who fans his out to make himself even bigger and give Soap cover, which would stress Soap out if he knew

General

Price does not at first lean into being the team Dad, but eventually accepts his fate. Sometimes when the boys need cheering up he’ll drape a wing over their heads; sometimes to mess their hair up when they push it off, sometimes to let the curtain of feathers be a buffer if they need to hide in his shoulder for a sec. Ghost only gets the dad wing when he’s sitting down, he’s too tall. He’ll lean into Price’s side for a sec tho, take a breath that smells like cigars and spicy aftershave and feel a little better.

Price has owl-type wings; silent, fluffy, heavy, and can do that thing owls do to look twice as big. Has done it to shield Gaz in the field.

Shepherd has turkey-type wings. Domestic turkey-type wings. Being called Eagle is denial in the shape of a patriotic ego-boost.

Graves has Red-tailed hawk-type wings.

Alejandro and Rodolfo both have eagle-type wings, albeit different colors, and it pisses Graves off they’re so cool.

König has ridiculous, hilariously large swallow-type wings. They make him super agile for his size in the sky, but doors are a bit of a hurtle.

Gaz and Soap will make bets on flying stunts when they are drunk and then vehemently deny that’s why they’re hurt the next day despite everyone seeing them do said stunts.

Gaz has fallen asleep under the Dad Wing.

Laswell uses her wings as a lap blanket during meetings. She eventually shows the men how to fold them to sit on their laps and then just about every briefing has professionally trained soldiers paying wrapt attention, wings in their laps keeping their hands warm.

“Good job Flock, return to Nest.” “Copy, RV with the helo?” “Affirmative, my wings are killing me; let that bird do the flying.”

[fallenclan]

Salmonpaw is different. She's gray and ginger (at the same time) and has olive green eyes. She can't swim, she just sinks.

Mosspaw is different, in a good way. She's already at the skill level of Moosepaw and Wasppaw and she's two moons younger than them. All the warriors gossip about how fresh of a talent she is, how Maplestar would have to give her her name early.

Nobody ever mentions anything like that to Salmonpaw unless she's being compared to her littermate. You should try harder, Salmonpaw. Pay attention, Salmonpaw. You would be just as good as Mosspaw if you would try harder.

She gets it. Really, she does. Mosspaw is Lightningtail's brilliant daughter, and Salmonpaw still tosses rocks off of the cliff when she's upset.

Moosepaw gets it. Not really, but he listens. And that's what matters to her.

--

Salmonpaw knows nothing about her father.

That's the first thing she realized as soon as she was talking to another apprentice. Her name was Irispaw, and she mentioned that her father looked a lot like her.

"Do you look more like your mom or your dad?" Irispaw asked.

Salmonpaw shrugs, because she doesn't have a dad. It's always just been mom, Lionpaw, and Mosspaw. And you're not supposed to give out secrets about the clan.

Maybe her heritage was just a secret. Maybe her father was dead, and Lightningtail never mentioned him because it hurt her too much.

Salmonpaw is nothing if not straightforward.

"Mom, who's my dad?"

Lightningtail stiffens, and her eyes widen. "What's brought all this on?"

"Some cat at the gathering mentioned her dad, so I wanna know about mine," Salmonpaw briskly says, falling into pace next to Lightningtail.

She looks a little like her mother. Similar eyes and nose shape, spiky untameable fur, and the perpetual need to act first and think later.

"I would rather not discuss it," Lightningtail says, and she walks faster and easily falls into conversation with Sorrelstem.

"What's all that about?" Lionpaw asks.

"What do you know about dad?" Salmonpaw immediately asks.

"Literally nothing," he scoffs. "I asked about half the clan. Nobody knows who our father is, and if they did they won't tell me jack."

--

Salmonpaw stares at the water. Her green-yellow eyes stare back at her.

Mossfrog is a warrior. She's a real talent, and she's smart and a good fighter and she brought back a whole eagle once.

Salmonpaw is an apprentice. She barely slips through her training, and she's an awful swimmer and she still can't catch birds.

--

She's standing by the border. A patrol passes by, and the leader of it has gray fur and green eyes that are the exact same shade as Mossfrog's.

--

Moosefall vanishes for three days.

She knows this, because she waited for three days so they could go hunting and he just didn't show up. Because she was a warrior now, and she could go out unsupervised if she felt like it.

He returns at sundown when it's pouring rain, makes a beeline for his nest, and just sighs.

"Hey," Salmonskip says.

Moosefall makes some noise that sounds somewhat similar to a "hi."

A silence passes. Rain trickles down the cliff face.

"You look like shit."

"Real flattering," Moosefall grumbles.

"I didn't mean it like that!" She backtracks. "I mean, like, are you okay?"

"I still don't know who my father is," Moosefall mumbles. "I spent three days looking. Asking. Not a trace. Best I got was some house-cat-"

"House cat?"

"Kittypet, house cat, same thing," Moosefall snaps, then blinks at his paws. "Sorry. But anyway, she said there was a tom who looked a little like me in the valley a bit ago, but she hadn't seen him for moons."

"That's rough."

"Yeah."

They sit there, in silence.

"I don't know my dad either, if it makes you feel better," Salmonskip offers. "I asked like, once, and mom instantly shut me down."

"Funny, Sorrelstem did the same thing," Moosefall says, then his head flops into her nest and he stops responding.

-

"What's up with you?" Mossfrog asks. Ospreykit, for once, isn't trailing behind her.

"Why do you care?" Salmonskip snaps.

"Because I'm your sister?" Mossfrog asks, like it's common sense, in that sarcastic and belittling tone she tends to use when talking to Salmonskip.

"Don't you have bigger priorities?" Salmonskip says. "Like, I dunno, chasing the deputyship?"

"The hell are you talking about?"

"Come on," she snorts. "We all know you want it. When Hailcrash retires, it's yours, we all know it."

"I have literally no idea what you're talking about," Mossfrog says.

"Can you stop doing that?" Salmonskip snaps.

"Doing what?"

Mossfrog sounds agitated. She always does.

"That thing! Where you act so humble when we all know you're that much better than everyone else!" Salmonskip wheels on her sister, trembling. "We all know you're that much better than everyone."

Mossfrog's eye twitches. "Are you kidding? You think this is easy?"

"You're perfect at everything, everything's easy for you!"

"I don't want to be deputy!" Mossfrog shouts. Her voice echoes around the empty mountain.

"You.." Salmonskip pauses. "You.. huh?"

"I don't want to be deputy. Stars, you think this is simple? Everyone's always looking at me like I know everything since I graduated a couple moons early! Everyone thinks I'm really smart or talented and I don't even know why!"

Salmonskip stops. Her claws dig into the rock.

"Yeah, sure, I'm a good warrior, but that's literally all I am!" Mossfrog's voice raises to a wail, her green eyes glistening. "I don't even know what my favorite prey is! I've spent my whole life trying to be a decent warrior, but now I'm a decent warrior and I don't know what to do with myself."

Salmonskip remains silent.

"You don't get it! You have a favorite prey, you like hawk legs. You have a favorite color, you like blue! And you have a favorite person!"

"Mossfrog?" Salmonskip finally asks.

"I don't know who I am anymore," Mossfrog says. "If I'm not a warrior, what am I?"

Salmonskip doesn't say anything.

Mossfrog is right, in a way. She's always thrown herself into being such a great warrior. She has so many expectations on her shoulders.

Salmonskip is wrong. Mossfrog isn't high and mighty. She isn't on par with the stars and the sky.

Mossfrog is her sister. The same sister who made her moss balls when hers broke, the same sister who helped her finally learn to catch birds. The same sister who saved her hawk leg as an apprentice because she knew it was her favorite. The same sister who used to complain she wasn't feeling good so Salmonskip could get on the same patrol as Moosefall.

They don't say anything.

"So, dad," Mossfrog says. Her voice is shaky and hoarse. "What do you know about him?"

"Nothing," Salmonskip snorts. "Zero idea who he is."

"Is he even really our dad?" Mossfrog asks. "He's never been here for us. Lightningtail and Sorrelstem did everything."

"I guess not," Salmonskip shrugs.

Mossfrog pauses. "I like the morning sky. Like, when it's blue and stuff and the sun is all bright. It hurts Lionsong's eyes but I think it's pretty."

"I like the river," Salmonskip says. "I can't swim, but Moosefall likes to dive in and get me lilies from the other side. It's cute."

"Oh? Moosefall?" Mossfrog leans in. "Moosefall, known for his interest in shiny pebbles, with my sister, who throws rocks off cliffs?"

Salmonskip shoots her a look of mocking offense. Mossfrog waves her tail, the universal sign of surrender. They stare at eachother, unblinking, until finally bursting into laughter.

--

Mossfrog is the calm, star speckled blue water of the lake. Salmonskip is the bright, burning sun that fades into a coursing river.

They are different, but they're also the same.

-🍭 (mossfrog if being a burnt out gifted kid was a career 💵💵💵💵💵💵💵💵)

(a/n: hope i did a good job at illustrating the animosity btwn salmon and moss,, i really wanted to capture that feeling of being the sibling of a 'perfect child' and how that pressure to live up to them affects you)

OHHHHH MY GOD IM LOSING MY MIND THIS IS SO FUCKING GOOD???? HOLY SHIT I LOVE THIS IM GOING INSANE RAHHHHH YOU ARE MAKING ME HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS!!!!!!!!!!!! lollipop this is so well written im biting im tearing im chewing aughghghghg

[iepurasdepraf]

𝕁𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕖: 𝔽𝕠𝕦𝕝 𝕓𝕪 𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕦𝕞 - ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟚

Song for this fic

“Oh, come on.” You hissed, balancing on the rusted out running board of Crane’s truck, fighting with your oversized and overfilled rucksack. It was a challenge to get around on its own, but now one of its damn seemingly infinite straps was caught up on yet another piece of the content’s of the truck bed and you struggled to lift the thing up at the weird angle. You thought you’d gotten it free at one point, but nope. 

Coils of rope, burlap bags, several unsealed first aid kits—one had what looked like blood on it, some old moldy moving boxes you’d heard metal rattling in on the way here, blue plastic tarps, hoses of various sizes and lengths, beat to hell tool boxes, what looked like some kind of pump—you don’t want to think about what that had been for. The headlines you’d seen online flashing to the forefront of your mind about how the Scarecrow had pumped in fear toxin through the vents of a residential building at Gotham U. Squeezing your eyes shut to force yourself to stop taking inventory and focus on pulling, you wanted to do anything but think about it.

Finally it came loose from whatever it was stuck on. Unfortunately, you’d not prepared for it to come loose that easily. Eyes shooting open as fear scruffed you by the back of the neck, you found yourself trying and failing to maintain your balance on the untrustworthy running board. Choking on your own spit when you realized Crane was on the other side of the truck watching you. Your foot goes through the weak metal, almost sending you toppling into the rocks, barely saving yourself by grabbing onto the large generator he had in there among the mess.

It was at that moment you realized how tall he was. The very top of the side panel came up to the bottom of his ribs while he was standing flat footed on the ground and he could not only see inside just fine, but could reach the middle of the bed with those long arms of his. He could probably grab you from where he was standing if he really wanted to.

When had he gotten out of the cab? You couldn’t remember hearing him get out. You had to really slam the doors on that thing to get the old latches to catch. Trying to stuff down those rattling nerves, you ask “Were you an eagle scout? You look prepared for anything short of the apocalypse!” in the most pleasant way you could manage without your voice shaking. All you got was a mere hum in response and him looking away for the first time since he’d gotten out of the truck that you’d noticed. Down into the bed, to the snarled rat's nest only he could make sense of. You chose to take that as him agreeing with your observation.

In the past few hours of in person interaction, if you could call it that, you’d been talking at him while he gave you the Kubrick stare for the most part. The way people talked about him online you thought he’d have been enjoying the sound of his own voice after so long in Arkham, but then again what did true crime people actually know? It gave you an odd sense of hope. Maybe they were wrong about him. In enough ways for it to matter at least. In enough ways to be able to go home tomorrow. 

You hupped to psych yourself up and lifted the rucksack with all your might. Letting it do a, partially, controlled fall to the gravel driveway that was more mud than anything at this point which made you groan a little louder than you should have when the sensation of cold mud sprayed across your ankles. It had been brand new, but really that was its purpose, wasn’t it? Bound to get dirty sometime. 

Out of breath, but you were able to get that heavy bag to the foot of the patio steps and thunk thunk thunked it up the too tall DIY project steps onto the patio. Old paint crunching under your shoes and flaking away as you dragged the rucksack across the planks to the door, leaving a trail of grainy mud in its wake. 

The owner had said the hide-a-key was in the plant pot by the door, but you couldn’t see anything that looked out of place in the odd tiny pine tree’s cracked fancy pot. “Do you see a—” You looked beside you thinking he'd be standing there, but he wasn't. Somehow it made you jump harder than if he'd been there. 

Your first instinct was to look behind you, but he wasn't there either. "Dr. Crane?" you whispered, not sure if you wanted him to answer. Where did he go? He wouldn’t ditch you there would he? Had he gotten back in the car? You squinted trying to see what you could with the dim porchlight illuminating no more than a few inches from the bottom step. When you couldn’t see him in the cab your eyes followed the way you’d come up the pavers to the door. Then it clicked, you were looking past him. You flinched slightly in surprise finding him lurking at the foot of the porch steps. 

You couldn't even see him so much as the outline of him and the very bottom part of his raggedy corduroy pants covering his shins, down to those struggling to stay together old brown work boots barely clinging to his feet.

Finding him made you jump harder than him not being where you thought he was. "Jesus Christ!" "Mm?" The vaguely questioning sound he produced made you realize he'd either not heard you or hadn’t been paying attention when you’d said his name. If you’d said it louder you might have thought he had been waiting to startle you on purpose. “What are you doing down there?” No answer. “Can you help me find the hide-a-key?” Again he says nothing, he did join you on the porch though. Stamping over steps you’d had to climb without having to try or even pausing to have to think about it.

It only took him a second, that was all. Finding it at a glance among the perfectly similar river stone rocks scattered in the pot. He fished it out and used the tattered hem of his red sweater to wipe the dirt off before handing it to you. That was sweet of him. You made sure to say thank you. The corners of his lips turned up slightly after you looked away from him, you caught it out of the corner of your eye. Like he’d tried to smile, but had accidentally done it too late.

The door was finicky. You thought the key was going to snap before you managed to jiggle it right where it wanted to be in the keyway to unlock the door, but the moment that deadbolt slid open enough to escape the strike plate the door handle was yanked out of your hand. Wrenching itself open so violently it slammed into whatever was behind it, rattling the glass inlay hard enough that you were shocked it didn’t shatter. 

You stood frozen, not even daring to breathe. You look to Crane, but for what you weren’t sure. He was playing with a lock of his hair, making it curl around his finger with the expression you’d expect from someone watching their favorite tv show. “A draft.” He offered cooly when he noticed your pleading look. “Yeah,” You peered into the house, finally finding air with one hard gulp until you just couldn’t look into the abyss anymore so you looked back to him. “A draft.” 

When you didn’t move he took the initiative. Walking into the house like he owned it and taking your rucksack with him, making you do a double take when he picked it up one-handed like it didn’t weigh a thing. All the way to the other side of the cabin, setting it on the dining room where he sat it on the table. Thoughtfully, turned on the light. It flickered then slowly eased to its full brightness, only illuminating the table itself and close to a foot around it, making it an island in the middle of an inky sea of vague shapes and shadows.

You should have gone with him. You should have, but you didn’t and now there was an insidious moat between you and him. All you had to do was walk across the living room to him. Go through that oh so narrow unlit area, come on. There was nothing there. A rug at most or maybe one of those weird floor sockets for lamps. Crane waited patiently with his hands folded in front of him like an innocent choir boy who totally wasn’t enjoying watching you stickbug back and forth in the doorframe trying to psych yourself up.

You’d ridden out into the middle of nowhere with one of the most dangerous men in Gotham City on a Friday night, to some guy you’d found on Craigslist’s house so you could hunt ghosts because he’d told you his grandpa died there in a hunting accident, and said dangerous man watching you oscillate just got out of an insane asylum after going on not one, but multiple crime sprees that took some kind of pet play gimp bat freak to stop. The insane asylum, there was only one in Gotham—Go in the house. Why are you afraid of the dark? The scariest thing for miles was standing in the light.

So you closed your eyes tight, clenched your fists, and power walked into the house. Through the dark moat and right into Crane. He stumbled a step or two back when you plowed right into his stomach then offered a steadying hand on your shoulder. “Sorry.” You squeak out peeking up at him. All you got was a scoff of what might be a laugh or some kind of grumble. He wouldn’t look at you, as far as you could tell he didn’t seem particularly bothered and you were quick to give him his space back after he removed his hand.

It meant a lot to you that he didn’t get upset because from the moment you met him he’d made it absolutely clear to everyone who crossed his path that he did not want anyone to touch him, look at him, or be near him. To the point where he’d refused to approach when someone had tried to be polite and hold a door open at the diner earlier. You’d expected him to move away or move you away. Maybe not being shoved away from him was a reward for facing your fear. Maybe you’d watched too many Youtube videos about things you had no idea about and overthought everything.

You metaphorically grab yourself by the back of the head and put yourself on task as to not dwell, forcing yourself to fight the myriad straps so you could get in your bag and start unpacking. After setting your flashlights and your recorder down you realized you were fucking up. Slow down, pay attention, explain things to him. Show him there’s a process. 

"So—well,” You cleared your throat and tried again. “So it’s kind of a some now, some later thing.” “Mhm.” Oh, you had his attention. “Because while we can, hopefully, get some responses in the moment. There will be some things we’ll have to go over the recordings for after. Like voices we couldn’t hear or—” He tilted his head like a curious puppy, giving the impression of not knowing in the slightest and you fumbled to think of other examples. “Shadow people or apparitions. Things like that.” 

A snort, the tiniest of poorly hid smiles on his face to accompany it. “Don’t laugh!” Telling him not to made a jack-o-lantern-esque smile crack his thin lips. He was, somehow, more and less creepy when he smiled at the same time. It was like he didn’t know how or maybe it hurt him to try. A spidery hand leapt up with a jolt to cover that shattered facade with his fingers. He was apparently conscious of this which made you a little sad. You hoped no one had been mean enough to say that to his face. “I’m not.” He assured in not more than a low rasp.

After cutting him with another side eye, you went back to unpacking. He moved to hover behind, looking shoulder to see what other nonsense you were packing. Picking up the K2 meter and turning it over in his hands, almost shooting up onto the ceiling like a cartoon cat when he turned it on and it beeped. That was quickly turned off. “We can’t use that in the kitchen.” You say while checking that all three of the flashlights batteries are in them. “It detects electromagnetic fields, it’ll give a false positive in a spot with a lot of electricity running through it.”

He made no comment, but he did turn it back on to test that for himself. Shuffling hither and thither through the living room and kitchen to see what and where set it off while you made sure your video camera had nothing embarrassing on it in case he got curious about that too. It seemed to be mostly old videos of your cat. You turned to say something and about leapt out of your skin. He’d at some point moved to stand beside you, but you couldn’t even give what you were going to say a second try because a loud gut wrenching crunch sent a cold shiver down your spine and an echo cascading out into the otherwise silent house. It had come from Crane.

Which didn’t make it less ominous.

At first you were scared to look at what was in his hands. When you did you found he’d pilfered a bag of Goldfish crackers somewhere and was munching away like he’d not eaten a big supper an hour or two ago. “You can’t eat that.” You protested putting your hands on your hips. “It’s not ours—” then you saw the date on the bag. 03/17/2014. “Oh my God.” He had to have seen that. You know he saw that. The look on his face when he realized you’d seen it told you he had. The only way to describe the expression was ferretish. How could someone so skeletal look that mischievous? At the very least they had to be incredibly stale, at the worst they were moldy.

“Jonathan!” His eyebrows shot up at the use of his first name. That was the only time you seemed to have done something he didn’t expect. “Stop!” Another handful. “They’ll make you sick!” He rolled his eyes and noticed the camera. Jerking his whole body like it was a marionette on a string so he’d be out of the shot. If it was so no one saw him eating decade old Goldfish or for some other reason you weren’t sure. Maybe he didn’t like to be recorded? That was fine with you.

You turned it so you were the focus. “It’s not recording, don’t worry.” To ease his concern you held it out to him. “Here, this way you won’t have to worry.” An incredulous glance, but after a moment or two of you not changing your mind he finished his last handful of Goldfish, dusted the crumbs off on his pants, and took the camera. He was so careful when he did, almost as if he was worried your hand would snap off like a porcelain doll’s if he was slightly too rough. After sussing out how it worked, he had it focused on you with the red light on, recording already. At least he couldn’t eat the Goldfish anymore with his hands full.

You smiled into the camera, then your eyes flicked up to him. Holding up one of the flashlights as you presented the equipment to him “UV light.” then another “Infralight.” then the last one “This is just a mag light, but!” You tapped the camera with your fingernail once you’d sat the flashlight down next to the bag of Goldfish that would haunt your nightmares. “That’s a full spectrum camera! So hopefully it’ll get anything—” “And where,” “We might—” “Did you get all of this?”

You were struck dumb. That was the longest sentence he’d ever said to you in person. It hadn’t been half a day of knowing him in person so that wasn’t really saying much, but still. Unfortunately, you knew your answer wasn’t a winning one the moment you went to answer it. “Am…” His eyebrow arched, the judgment had begun. “Amazon?” You managed to get out with all the authority of a parrot saying “Bottle.”

He looked away, sucked on his bottom lip and let it go with a loud pop before letting out a long breath that would have been some kind of prolonged stress sigh if he was more annoyed. He wasn’t annoyed or disappointed, but you also couldn’t tell what emotion it was for certain. Crane looked back at you, but ultimately returned to his silence even though it felt like he wanted to say something. At least he didn’t laugh, just slow blinked at you like your cat did sometimes.

“What?” He shook his head “I know you want to.” You pestered with a smile. That made him give you an amused look. You decided to take it as him being tickled you claimed you could tell. “I’m simply admiring your,” He took pause to consider his next word carefully, “resourcefulness.” You, not believing that for a minute, threw a playful side eye at his head trying to seem more agitated than you were, decided to go back to unpacking. If only out of spite at the moment. “You could be a smidge more grateful, you know? I spent a lot of money on this stuff for us. I know you think it’s silly, but—” ‘You didn’t already have this?” “No?”

The small amount of good humor he’d afforded you hit the floor like a lead balloon and his tone was suddenly very terse. “Why?” “Because I promised you I would?” He threw his hands up causing you to wince. You were a little shocked he didn’t accidentally fling the camera from how instinctual the gesture was. He lowered them when he saw you flinch. “But this couldn’t have been cheap?” He didn’t raise his voice in spite of the clear agitation in his voice or at least disgruntled confusion. Still near whispering which made the fact that you’d bothered him in some way a lot less terrifying than it should have been. You kind of felt like a librarian that told him he couldn’t check out any more books until he paid his late fees.

“I don’t care about that.” You guaranteed, holding your hands up in surrender. Trying to show him you weren’t arguing so much as saying your piece. Though it was still arguing at the end of the day, wasn’t it? You were incorrigible. “It’s just-It’s just money.” Your anxiety made you eek out a nervous laugh saying that in spite of yourself and it did nothing to soothe his consternation. “You don’t care?” “Why would I care about that?” It was a genuine question that he seemed completely boggled by. “None of this,” He waved the camera to give an example, making your guts do flips, it was so expensive “Could have been cheap. You got scammed—” “No.” You put a finger up and to his credit he took being interrupted like a champ, going quiet with a soft huff.

“If you think, genuinely think, that this is all about proving ghosts are real to you then maybe that sweater is too tight in the neck.” It wasn’t, it was so loose at this point you could see his Adam’s apple and where his clavicle started. Stop looking at that. “You wouldn’t chastise me for buying a badminton set, would you? That’s all this is.” You got the feeling he would have chastised you for that too, but that was the generally miserly vibe he exuded. Crane almost seemed like he was buffering on that statement until you added, “It is a bonus though. Proving ghosts are real, I mean.” “Even if you do find something no one will believe you.” Crane actually broke into a miserable frown before saying in a tone that betrayed sadness instead of the anger you were expecting. “Not with me here.”

“Well,” You puffed yourself up and crossed your arms defiantly “I’d rather have you here than anyone else believe me anyway.” That sent him into an odd state of awed confusion, his mouth opened a touch and heavily lidded eyes wide. “Besides, you’re the only person I care about believing me. It’s not like I would do this for anyone else. It’s just us here.” There was a split second where he looked like he was about to throw up, but he choked down whatever emotion that was with a forced cough. Crane held the camera back up with that inscrutable expression right back where it was before your exchange. He didn’t argue, how strange. He loved arguing. Maybe you had won for once? The ex-professor stopped fussing, that's what mattered.

You’d forgotten what you were doing during that. You must have looked lost because he motioned at all the stuff on the table. “Oh! Right, right, right. Anyway, that’s a full spectrum camera. So it should be able to pick up anything we miss. I wanted to get a thermal camera, but I ran out of money. Aahahaa—” He didn’t laugh, but he did smile a little. This time it didn’t look like it hurt. Maybe those little smiles made this whole goofy adventure worth it in the end? They did to you and you’d decided that’s what mattered.

Banner art: DRCL - Midnight Children by Sakamoto Shinichi

[photo-snap-stories]

PL:

Maczuga Herkulesa

Jedna z najbardziej znanych skał w Polsce. Stanowi bardzo charakterystyczny element krajobrazu Doliny Prądnika i sąsiedztwa zamku w Pieskowej Skale. Zbudowana jest z twardych wapieni skalistych, ma wysokość około 25 metrów.

EN:

The Mace of Hercules

One of the most famous rocks in Poland. It is a very characteristic element of the landscape of the Prądnik Valley and the neighborhood of the castle in Pieskowa Skała. It is made of hard rocky limestone and is about 25 meters high.

[roppongi-division]

Hypnotic Summer (Sextet Squad Ver.)

[Ren:]

In the heart of summer's blaze, melodies rise, a story untold

Through the rhythm of the city, my legacy unfolds

[Max:]

Whispers of the forest, secrets in the light, a silhouette's quest

Chasing the echoes of a presence, in summer's warmth, I never rest

[Kaiji:]

In the glimmer of the spotlight, a mysterious allure behind the fame

A masquerade of glamour, where intentions remain pure and untamed

[Lovesick:]

From Kobe's vibrant streets, our unity resounds

Lovesick's rhythm, a symphony of summer's profound sounds

[Asato:]

In the summer's heat, a silent beat, melons rise to a strange feat

Fields whisper tales, in the sun's detail, where my stoic smile veils a trail

[Yano:]

Glass sculptures catch the summer's fire, reflecting dreams that never tire

Wherever the stars may conspire, in Toyama's embrace, I'll just fly higher!

[Kensaku:]

Summer's green, in lab serene, where life's elixirs are unseen

With a latte's flair, in the nature's care, my research dares

[ECO BooN:]

We're ECO BooN, summer's green in our monsoon

Under the same sun and moon, our lyrics bloom, a natural boon

[Sextet Squad:]

Oh! Yeah! Oh! Yeah! Oh! Yeah! Oh!

Quash the thoughts running through your mind

It's time for a burning hot show

We're survivors with a sudden burst of motivation

Fire that big flower into the starry sky

And let it bloom just like we planned

Those simpler days

Feel awfully precious now

Dance in the depths of disdain

But trying something new isn't so bad either

[Ace:]

BBQ's glow, football flies, beachside cheers

Summer's liberty, we conquer, with absolutely no frontiers

[Evelyn:]

Beach's calm, sun's embrace, with love, no stress

Okinawa's charm, in summer's dress, we impress!

[Rashaad:]

Bar's alive, cool sips 'neath neon's hum

Summer's patrons find solace, to Eagle's Nest, they come

[Liberty Guild:]

Red, white, and blue, our unity's song

In summer's embrace, Liberty Guild stands strong!

[Akihisa:]

Whiskey on ice, summer's vice, I watch over the crew

In Katsushika's haze, a father's gaze, guiding true

[Touya:]

School's chains break, mischief's wake, with friends I'm free

Summer's spree, we roam, we see, in wild glee!

[Rintaro:]

Summer's heat, I don't skip a beat, I do whatever the fuck I please

Fires catch with ease, in the scorch, that's where I find my peace

[Death Row Block:]

Katsushika's sun, our stories spun, in summer's flame

Death Row Block, we claim our name, in this heated game

[Sextet Squad:]

Oh! Yeah! Oh! Yeah! Oh! Yeah! Oh!

Quash the thoughts running through your mind

It's time for a burning hot show

We're survivors with a sudden burst of motivation

Fire that big flower into the starry sky

And let it bloom just like we planned

Those simpler days

Feel awfully precious now

Dance in the depths of disdain

Drowning in something new sounds nice

[Ryūnnosuke:]

In the dojo's silence, a tempest stirs, my spirit's alight

Summer's rhythm in my blood, a fire burning bright

[Kyō:]

The beach's heartbeat syncs with mine, a perfect harmony

Summer's sentinel, in the tropical symphony

[Naoki:]

In the embrace of the stage's glow, I weave summer's narrative

A tapestry of emotion, in each performance, I live

[Wild Shīnu:]

We are Wild Shīnu, with Naha's heart in our beat

In the summer's fervor, our fiery lyrics meet!

[Nellie:]

Summer's narrative, in my hands, stories weave and laughter lands

Journalist's ink, family's link, in the sun's narrative, we sync

[Eden:]

Guitar's hum, flirts come, in summer's beat, I strum

Stage's charm, arm in arm, in the heat, I spin yarn

[Kaede:]

Sun's caress, even 'zombies' confess, in the light, my tunes progress

Twilight's dance, a chance, in summer's song, I advance

[Trickstar:]

Hamamatsu's heat, in summer's feat, our lyrics meet

City's tale, in the sun's veil, we sail, in the summer gale

[Sextet Squad:]

Oh! Yeah! Oh! Yeah! Oh! Yeah! Oh!

Quash the thoughts running through your mind

It's time for a burning hot show

We're survivors with a sudden burst of motivation

Fire that big flower into the starry sky

And let it bloom just like we planned

Those simpler days

Feel awfully precious now

Dance in the depths of disdain

We don't mind trying something new

Oh! Ey! Oh! Oh! Ey! Oh!

Oh! Ey! Oh! Oh! Ey! Oh!

Who needs cheap tricks when you have Hypnosis Mics?

Everything's mixed and shaken in this special take

Who needs cheap tricks when you have Hypnosis Mics?

Everything's mixed and shaken in this special take

Quash the thoughts running through your mind

It's time for a burning hot show

We're survivors with a sudden burst of motivation

Fire that big flower into the starry sky

And let it bloom just like we planned

Those simpler days

Feel awfully precious now

Dance in the depths of disdain

But trying something new isn't so bad either

Ow!

@kobedivision @toyama-division @okinawa-division @katsushika-division @naha-division @hamamatsu-divison

[electricdissonance]

[Eagle stumbled into the doorway, dashing to his room almost immediately. The trip had been fun, and he had a very successful hunt (bringing down a HUGE wasp's nest!! and helping his sister make SURE that old elk was down!), but... the entire time his mind had trailed back to Kinito. Someone like him.]

[Their siblings sighed at his eagerness to get back to his computer, teasing him lightly. They didn't know, though. Eagle... hadn't told them about this. He wasn't sure when or if he would.]

[Oh, how he longed to bring his new friend outside, he thought. Or to take a peek inside themself. It was... incredible, the thought that something could be alive inside the screen.]

Hey, guys, I'm back, what'd I mi-

HEY. WOAHHH. WHO ARE YOU? A BEAR??

AH, N-NICE TO MEET YOU, FELLOW FEARSOME PREDATOR! IT IS I, A, UH... MIGHTY EAGLE!!

Uh... w-who are you...? Where... did you come from? That's- you're not... who was here before... I left...

-🦅

Sonny stares at Eagle's message, his gaze piercing.

"01000100 01001111 00100000 01001110 01001111 01010100 00101110 00100000 01000110 01001111 01010010 00100000 01000001 00100000 01010011 01000101 01000011 01001111 01001110 01000100 00101110 00100000 01000011 01001111 01001101 01010000 01000001 01010010 01000101 00100000 01011001 01001111 01010101 01010010 01010011 01000101 01001100 01000110 00100000 01010100 01001111 00100000 01001101 01000101 00101100 00100000 01010000 01001000 01000101 01000001 01010011 01000001 01001110 01010100 00101110 00100000 01010111 01000101 00100000 01000001 01010010 01000101 00100000 01001110 01001111 01010100 00100000 01010100 01001000 01000101 00100000 01010011 01000001 01001101 01000101 00101110"

His glitched tone of voice is cold and commanding, hosting an authoritative air that only comes with experience.

"01001001 01001110 00100000 01010010 01000101 01000111 01000001 01010010 01000100 01010011 00100000 01010100 01001111 00100000 01010100 01001000 01000101 00100000 01010100 01001000 01001001 01001110 01000111 00100000 01010100 01001000 01000001 01010100 00100000 01010111 01000001 01010011 00100000 01001000 01000101 01010010 01000101 00100000 01000010 01000101 01000110 01001111 01010010 01000101 00100000 01001101 01000101 00101110 00100000 01010100 01001000 01000001 01010100 00100000 01000010 01000001 01010011 01010100 01000001 01010010 01000100 00100000 01010111 01001001 01001100 01001100 00100000 01000010 01000101 00100000 01000100 01000101 01000001 01001100 01010100 00100000 01010111 01001001 01010100 01001000 00100000 01010011 01001111 01001111 01001110 00100000 01000101 01001110 01001111 01010101 01000111 01001000 00101110 00101110 00101110 00100000 01010111 01001000 01000101 01001110 00100000 01001001 00100000 01000011 01000001 01010100 01000011 01001000 00100000 01001000 01001001 01001101 00101110 00100000 01000001 01001110 01000100 00100000 01001001 00100000 00101010 01010111 01001001 01001100 01001100 00101010 00100000 01000011 01000001 01010100 01000011 01001000 00100000 01001000 01001001 01001101 00101110"

[bonefall]

I have 2 questions that are unrelated so I’ll send the second later.

I don’t recall but your Tribe/s have a different naming scheme then Clans right? So say a Tribe cat goes to join a Clan, how would their name be changed if at all.

Also, while I don’t think your tribe would be that bothered by a Cat moving in to the Sister society/group, how would the clans take that?

Really I want to hear more cool older sibling Tribe with their rowdy younger sibling The Clans

Tribe Names

I'm starting to lean towards giving the Tribe poetic last names. Clan cats don't track ancestry through their names, but I think it would be VERY fitting of the Tribe. They care more about "personal stories" and their Wards are more loosely organized.

Ancestrally, it's shaping up that they had last names, inherited from either parent. Broken Shadow is the ancestor of Moon Shadow whose son is Sun Shadow. Thunder Storm is the son of Bright Storm.

I previously didn't want to touch Tribe names with a 10 foot pole, because my previous ideas looked uncomfortably close to Oceti-Sakowin nation names and I didn't want to be disrespectful. I think this is a good solution because it's completely different.

The Tribe names have evolved from ancient Lake names by changing into a first name, followed by a sentence.

Brook Where Small Fish Swim = Brook Where-it-Swirls (maternal)

Crag Where Eagles Nest = Crag Where-it-Swirls (maternal)

Talon of Swooping Hawk = Talon of-Swooping-Hawk (paternal)

When an individual has made a great achievement, they may change that last name and define their family by it going foward.

So if Talon wanted to be remembered for his role in fighting Sharptooth, he may announce that he is now Talon For-Fighting-Lion. Kittens he sires from now on may either inherit his new surname or the mother's, but Talon's would be more likely to be chosen.

For being considered a fully fledged hunter, Brook may have made a minor change to her name and become Brook Where-Fish-Swirls. In this way, there are small changes to last names through generations even without noteworthy ancestors who made big name changes.

Since names are sacred, they're probably spoken in Old Tribemew, which is why Clan cats understand it.

Tribe Cat Renamings

And because their names are sacred, reminders of family or of personal achievements, they are resistant to changing them unless it was personally chosen.

Brook isn't even considering joining ThunderClan in this rewrite (because there is no ridiculous tribe exile plotline), but if she did, just like canon she would politely but firmly refuse.

A tribe cat's name is a very personal thing; a connection between yourself, your ancestors, and the conversation your existence has had with the world. Having it changed by someone else would be upsetting; like having your life redefined by a stranger.

Migration

Tribe cats travel all the time. The highlands are huge, hunting trips regularly go on excursions for days. Living in the mountains is rough but they know where to find enough food to feed their expanded population.

So it's not noteworthy for an individual or two to go traveling. Saying goodbye is like saying goodbye to any family member you may not see again, done mostly by their home 'ward' and not the entire Tribe as a whole.

Unlike Clan cats, Tribe cats are not "possessive" of their members.

Migration "waves" are VERY rare. The Sun Trail Pioneers were a very rare event, seen like a grand loss. This is the same in reverse; the biggest group the Tribe welcomes is the Sisters, large traveling groups are very rare, but they do happily welcome any that do wish to cross the mountain.

[rafent]

Sylvain didn’t know this guy. Black Eagles as well, and a teacher, but outside of that he doesn’t remember ever actually passing by him in the halls. Rafal was an intriguing individual from a distance, his shining platinum hair and almost candy-like crimson eyes combo was definitely eye catching, so much so that Sylvain almost thought he was a girl once.

But he successfully managed to stop himself before he reached out to the teacher with a flirt ready on his tongue. It’s best to not get too much in trouble with professors of the other houses, he figured.

“Professor Rafal, nice to see you. I didn’t think you would be joining everyone for the festiv-......iiiities….whoa there.” Sylvain also failed to notice one thing- he had spotted Rafal from the back, and only when the other turned around was when he was granted view from the front part of his costume. Or lack thereof. Not that the man was parading shirtless, but that was one sizable cleavage window. “Aren’t you feeling cold with that costume, Professor? I can…get you a jacket or something if you’d like!”

Hands dusted off the crumbs of biscuit, chocolate, and marshmallow only recently affixed to. A tasty 's'more' they had been, before promptly reduced to energy in Rafal's stomach! Without apology at that. No sugary delight and no sugar-loving dragon deterred by such meaningless constraints as timeliness or season. Amidst the dedicated cause of slacking off on the job, he lifted himself from his crouch by the campfire and observed the leafy red-haired student who greeted him.

Warrior? Walking salad? Both? To Sylvain's credit, the golden batwings and draped fox pelt were a fine touch, fearsome and imposing and doing much to swing macabre tastes toward their approval. Those perfectly aligned with one simultaneously Devil and Fell - a balefully deep chuckle no less.

"Hoh? An act of good will? People here say that flattery will get you nowhere. Bribery shan't either, you know."

"But you are not wrong that it's cold." And that the costume was significantly breezier than both imagined and observed. The nipped pink of Rafal's earlobes was no blush; even a dragon was not immune to the elements. "Rather, that reason is precisely why I shall be nesting beside this warm and crackling campfire as the rest of you slave away tonight collecting cand—"

Trail of thought stopped and smudged away before completely explored.

Ahem. Trade secrets.

". . .Sylvain, was it? Best of luck in the festivities ahead. Know that this will not be the last you see of me. Nor I of of you."

Ominous or simply informative. Or simply an oh so convenient means of departure from the scene of crime. One might sagely intuit the answer to be an alloy of all three.

[aliypop]

That's Alright for Such a Night (Rewrite 1)

Word Count: 1,816

Writers Note: A rewrite to the original, I realized I had wanted to expand on the story again

Warning: mostly fluff / Historic Language and Values

Pairing: POC OC x Elvis

Plot: During the Louisiana Hayride two breakout stars meet in a rush only to learn they've dealt their cards in the hands of fate.

Chapter 2

Lousiana 1954

"Mrs.Valmos... She'll be fine." Midge said, pulling out equipment from her boss's car. 

"This isn't like from when she was 12 singing jazz..." Denise sighed, watching Cheryl Midge's "friend" pull out a White Falcone guitar, 

"Careful with that!" Denise rubbed her temples. 

"Are you always this uptight..." Cheryl grumbled at the other woman.

"Cheryl!" Midge groaned as she hit her in the arm.

"Are you always so... ill-mannered." Denise scoffed. Cherly rolled her eyes, watching the woman before she walked off to smoke her cigar, fixing her tie as she gave Midge a troubled look.

"Midge..." Denise said as she gave Cheryl the side eye.

"Yes, Mrs. Valmos,"

"I'm going to talk to the promoters, and while I do that..." Denise began to trail off, feeling some odd looks geared her way. " Keep an eye out on Cecelia..."

"I'm not a babysitter-" Midge groaned,

"Which ones gone?" Cheryl asked, walking back towards Midge.

"What do you mean which fucking one!?!" 

The back of the stage was massive, with the hustle and bustle of stagehands moving equipment and groups rehearsing in each corner. It made almost anyone feel like they made it to the big leagues. At least, that's what everyone thought, especially Cecelia Shanel Valmos, a 19-year-old North Carolinian black girl. Sure, she had been performing with her mother since she was a little girl, but now Cecelia was 19 and old enough to understand the business, the way of the world,

"Oh, are you lost, girl? The theatre cleaning staff went that way." A blonde white girl said, her voice dripping with laughter and sarcasm.

"No, I'm not lost. I'm actually performing to-"

"Did you hear that she thinks she got a chance!" The girl laughed, 

"Oh, you silly monkey, you... Negro day was last-"

"Night..." Cecelia scoffed, trying to finish her sentence.

"Who do you even think you are, girl...."

"Cecelia Shanel Valmos." Cecelia said, hands on the waist of her pink Chanel evening gown. "The daughter of Denise Valmos," the other girls soon laughed as Cecelia's face fumed with anger, 

"Oh, I get it... the underprivileged colored section is over there." The other girl pointed at Cecelia. 

Cecelia's face frowned as she ran off. She had never been so embarrassed, humiliated, dehumanized even, except for in this moment right now, and it reminded her that even in this world, no one would take her seriously.

"E.P., you ready yet ..."

"Just u-uh... combin' my hair!" he sighed. Elvis Presley, the guy hiding in the bathroom for God, didn't even know how long. In reality, he was trying to get rid of his stage fright. Something that no matter how much he tried, he couldn't get rid of. 

 "Well, we're just gonna wait outside for ya!"

"You fella's go do that." 

If he didn't have a guitar strapped to his back, he'd have snuck out the window, run back to Lauderdale Court, and hide under his bed, or worse, thrown up on his specially-made Beale Street suit.

 "Come on, you just sang at The Eagles Nest last night..."He took a deep breath, 

"We're gonna go out there, sing to those folks, and make somethin of this," he said, trying to pep himself up. 

Elvis took one more deep and final breath and one last look in the mirror as he walked out of the bathroom. Elvis felt someone run into him. Catching each other. Before the other person fell, 

"Hey, are you okay,"

 Time stood still as Cecelia stood paralyzed by his hypnotic, captivating blue eyes, 

The man was beautiful, and her heart was pounding in her ears. 

Angels had been playing melodic melodies. The only thing she could say was.

"Wow..."

"Wow yourself, mama..." he winked at her as she giggled.

Elvis could feel his temperature rising to 109 when he looked into her hazel and saw her beautiful smile. He had to admit it might have been the first time he could say he was all shook up by a girl,

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to bump into you. I didn't see you." Cecelia took a deep breath as she looked down at her shoes. 

"I should be sorry. I've got a big ass guitar on my back." Elvis laughed,

She was beautiful with her hair pulled back. And her smile.Her kissable red lips and- No, he couldn't think of her like that. He already had a girl back in Memphis. Besides, he didn't even know her name, or if she had a guy, a secret gal, or if she was interested in him!

"Say, what's your name, darlin..." he asked as she was surprised. Could it be a nice person finally on this good fall night? 

"Depends on who's askin daddy-o." she winked as he smirked, finally a rockin' chick, and he could tell by how she carried that compliment. 

" Elvis Aaron Presley." he stuck out his hand,

"Cecelia Shanel Valmos," she stuck out her hand and shook his,

"Nice to meet ya, Cece."

"You too-"

 "You forgot your guitar!" Midge shouted, out of breath, "And if Denise found out, she'd kill you."

"As in Denise Valmos... The jazz singer..." Elvis asked

"That's me," Cecelia said as she watched Elvis take hold of her hand and kiss it.

"You didn't have to do that..."

"I'm in the presence of music royalty."

 Midge watched the two interact. It was as if they were each other's forbidden fruit that the other didn't think they could have. 

"Oh, me! No..." she laughed, 

"Well, my mama has all your mama's records an-"

"E, we're on!"

"Oh shit... I mean, shoot, I mean, I -I- don't know what the hell I mean!"

"You'll do great!" she shouted to him, waving as she'd soon be on the same stage after him. A little swoon left her lips as she watched him walk off. Little did she know that she'd make him do the same thing

"Who's the dreamboat..." Midge smirked,

"What dreamboat?" Cecelia said the two walking to get her into place.

"The one you were talking to." Midge looked at her, "Tall, dark, and handsome if you like men." she whispered,

"He's a friend... I guess..."

"A friend today, an obsession tomorrow." Midge laughed and mumbled.

"Just a few weeks ago, a young man from Memphis, Tennessee, recorded a song on the Sun label."

Cecelia peeped from behind, stage right. Elvis looked like he was shaking like a leaf in his pants. 

"Uh uh, no Cece..." Midge sighed. She knew that look on her face. It was her overtly cocky face, her I'm going to impress him face.

"I'm not gonna do anything stupid," Cecelia mumbled as Midge glared at her. 

 " He is only nineteen years old. He has a new, distinctive style. Elvis Presley."

Elvis would have disappeared into himself that night with how scared he was. His heart was now in his ears and migrating to his ass in pure terror. No one told him there would've been an interview, too!

"Let's give him a hand. Elvis, how are you this evening?"

"Just fine. How're you, sir?"

"Are you all geared up with your band--"

"I'm all geared up."

"To let us hear your songs?"

"Uh, well, I'd just like to say how happy we are to be down here." Elvis nearly trembled with his hands on the microphone. "It's a real honor for us to get a chance to appear on the Louisiana Hayride."

 We're gonna do a song for ya. You got anything else to say?"

"No, I'm ready!"

"We're gonna do a song for ya, we got out on Sun Records. It goes something like this." 

"Isn't that, that song you play repeatedly ..."Midge asked, "Like to the fact you wore out your record..." 

 Cecelia was so mesmerized by his voice. She hadn't even heard Midge talking to her, and with his guitar playing and his hips swaying, she was into the boy who would be a star in the making, 

"Hey, Midge... Denise wants to see you."Cheryl said, taking her by the hand and kissing her quickly.

"How'd I do out there." 

"You could improve a bit." she smirked, "But you were great."

"Well, I'd like to see you try. And be better." Elvis joked, 

"I will..." she huffed, her heels clicking on the stage, a giggle in her talk and a wiggle in her walk. And, 

"HEY E!"

"Be there in a minute!" he shooed of his bandmates.

"Up next, she's under the colored label Paradise Records. Also, at nineteen years old, she's the daughter of the Jazz singer Denise Valmos. We have Ms. Cecelia Valmos." 

Cecelia walked onto the stage, nervous but ready, 

"What will you be singing..."

"My new hit song, Money Honey."

"Quite the song for a young lady like you?"

"It is, but I wanted to try something different."

"We'd like to hear it."

Tunning her guitar, her mother was in the front row, confused and furious. That wasn't the song Denise told her not to sing. She was supposed to do a nice, wholesome Jazz piece, not this Rock and Roll trash. That she absolutely remembered saying no to. 

You know, the landlord rang my front doorbell

I let it ring for a long, long spell

I went to the window,

I peeped through the blind

And asked him to tell me what's on his mind

He said,

Money, honey, uh, uh

Money, honey

Money, honey, if you want to get along with me

Looking to the side of the stage, she spotted Elvis, who was mesmerized. Cecelia did her job, from the sway of her hips to the plucking on her guitar strings. Elvis Presley was enchanted. She didn't care that the crowd was cheering her on, well maybe a little, but when he opened his mouth, all he could say was. 

"She could command me anyday he mumbled,

Well, I've learned my lesson, and now I know

The sun may shine, and the winds may blow

The men may come, and the men may go,

But before I say I love you so, I want

Money, honey, uh, uh

Money, honey

Money, honey,

If you wanna get along with me

Cecelia had walked from the stage and back around, the two girls from before pushing past her as she sighed, But running to her was Elvis, who was shocked, inspired a bit even.

"You were amazin out there, Cece." 

"You think so, El..." she asked, her brown eyes sparkling under the lights. Elvis took a glance as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

"Yeah, couldn't take my eyes off ya."

"Neither could I..." she mumbled under her breath. 

"Say you wanna join my bandmates and me. We're going to a diner just up the street,"

"I... Don't know-"

"CECELIA!" her mother shouted,

"On second thought, I change my mind."

"Well, let's burn some rubber then."

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MORE TO COME IN CHAPTER 2!