#and whatever they'd been through as a couple in the war which could have also cemented their relationship

[sideprince]

This, thank you. Yes, I agree, James was awful and most of what we see of him in canon is a person I personally dislike, but he died when he was in his early 20s so these "James never changed" takes just feel like people trying to justify disliking him and don't hold water. He didn't get a chance to change so you can't really judge him for it, at least not fairly, because he was was so young. I also often get the sense that people feel a need to over-justify James' shittiness to prove he was a bully and was wrong to assault Snape. Which he was! But you don't have to justify that being reprehensible beyond the action that it is. "This character was a bully" and "this character didn't have an opportunity to change because they died young so we can't judge them in the same context as similar characters who did get to age more" are statements that can and do coexist. A person doesn't have to be an all-around terrible person to be abusive - in fact, most abusers aren't and it hurts victims when you assume so because it enables their abusers more.

The other thing that never seems to get taken into account is that James and Lily are written as having been at school in the 70s. In the UK. At what is ultimately a posh boarding school. British culture is cruel and classist, and things that are not socially acceptable now were very much so in the 70s and 80s. James is written as a pretty standard British posh asshole. In today's terms James sexually assaulted Snape, but in 1970s terms he had a laugh at another student who was a loser, which was expected of him as a child of his class and social standing at the school, and he wouldn't have been the first or the last do it (probably not even in his own year, let alone his time at school - and it's heavily implied that Mulciber and Avery were the same, just in a different house). It wasn't discouraged, and victims' perspectives weren't considered, because victim blaming wasn't even a term that was in widespread use yet. I don't condone any of this by the way, but I do think it's important to understand if you're interested in context and character metas. Rowling herself probably didn't write the SWM with the intention of revealing James to be a bully, but rather to reveal the difference between his and Snape's social standing and to show that Snape - like Harry before Hogwarts - was considered a weakling and loser by his peers while at school.

James isn't unusual in his cruelty and bullying, although I do think there's an interesting discussion to be had around Rowling's choices with how to write him and her own experiences of abuse that seem to be unprocessed based on how much abuse she weaves into the story without addressing characters' actions in any kind of meaningful or consequential way. At the same time, saying James was abusive to everyone in his life (ie. the takes that he must have abused Lily) show a profound misunderstand of abuse. I say this even though I think James as a character was, in large part, influenced by Jorge Arantes, Rowling's abusive first husband.

James bullied Snape because he was strange, awkward, and showed signs of being from a lower class than himself. By modern standards his bullying included sexual assault, and is deemed abuse. James felt he could do this because he dehumanized Snape. The idea that abusive people are bullies who treat everyone abusively is incorrect - in fact, abusers are often charming or even shy and reserved, and do their damage when no one is watching, to specific people close to them. Bullying is a form of abuse, but conflating it with domestic abuse is reductive and short sighted. School bullies actively want people to know that they're willing to wield their strength - they take pleasure in flaunting their abuse and feel empowered by it. Domestic abusers tend to hide their mistreatment and enforce the subsequent power over their victims through secrecy and gaslighting. This doesn't mean, however, that these kinds of people are incapable of love. In fact, many people are capable of both tremendous love and terrible hatred depending on who they're dealing with. There are countless letters home to loved ones from WWII written by people who missed their wives and children and loved them dearly - touching letters that are relatable to anyone who's been away from home. Many of them were written by Nazi camp guards and officials who talk about the people they helped mass murder as "shipments" that were "processed."

Please don't misunderstand, I'm not comparing James Potter to Nazis, however I do think it's important to recognize that more people have this duality than you might think, and just because James was an abusive bully to Snape doesn't mean he would abuse Lily - the fact he gave his life to buy her a few seconds to escape shows this. An abuser wouldn't put their victim first, because the basis of abuse is rooted in asserting a power dynamic in which the abuser has the upper hand. Which fits a character like James when faced with Snape, but not so much with Lily. So I agree with OP, their marriage would have been an unremarkable but likely content one if they'd survived the war. James was a run of the mill British posh boy and the implication that he only had eyes for Lily actually sets him apart from most of his ilk.

Do you think James and Lily's marriage would have lasted if the two survived the war? I've seen a lot of different versions of this, ranging from "they divorce within a couple of years because James is still the privileged pureblood asshole that he was in school" and "they have a genuinely strong marriage built off of mutual honor and love that would have survived and probably given Harry some siblings".

thank you very much for the ask, pal!

my opinion is quite boring - i think james and lily would have had a perfectly ordinary, perfectly unremarkable, perfectly happy marriage, which may very well have resulted in more children.

broadly, this is because i think a lot of the "james and lily would never have lasted" takes are just cope from fans who dislike jily as a pairing either because they don't like james and don't want to see lily with him or because they prefer him with a non-canon partner.

while marrying your teenage sweetheart and expecting the relationship to last would probably be considered quite unusual in the real-world context in which most readers live, it's clearly the norm in the wizarding world. almost every heterosexual couple we meet in the pre-epilogue canon got married when one or both of them was still a teenager - tonks and lupin are the only definite exception. james and lily would exist, then, in a context where their experience was considered entirely standard - and this would give them things like a social circle at a similar life stage which would make sustaining their relationship easier.

particularly because james and lily do genuinely like each other. while we don't see very much of them in canon - since their roles in the story are to be fragments, never seen or known in any significant way, as an illustration of what was taken from harry [and sirius, and remus] by voldemort - it's apparent even in their few scenes together that they are sincerely compatible.

[and mutually interested in each other - i'm afraid that "james forced lily into a relationship" or "james would never change from who he was at sixteen and so they'd break up" takes really don't hold water. she likes him when he's sixteen! he doesn't need to deceive her! i don't actually think she'd have regarded it as evidence of some horrifying deficiency of character that he continued bullying snape without her knowledge!]

harry's great tragedy is that he's someone who longs for a completely average life - it's his greatest desire! the thing he sees in the mirror of erised! - but has this ordinariness stolen from him when voldemort makes him the boy who lived. james and lily surviving allows him to have that.

although that's obviously nowhere near as interesting as what actually happens....

[sol-consort]

Do you think in the mass effect universe, there's like porn of every alein race having sex with humans, like a human fetish almost? I'm asking because when I was romancing Garrus in ME2 Mordin said something about sending over videos to shepard's room that would help her have sex with him, and I'm like 'what does that mean?' Are there like a lot of interspecies alien porn? Also circling back around to stuff Mordin said about the turian cum will it definitely cause an allergic reaction or is there just a chance of it? If yes, can I just swallow and have an epipen on hand?

"Can I just swallow and have an epipen on hand?" having finished typing the last paragraph of your very professional worded letter, you navigate through your omni-tool as you press the final confirmation required to send the letter directly to the Turian Embassy, signed - a very concerned human.

The next day, the Turian public affairs and foreign relationships ministry, in collaboration with the Blue Talon healthcare ministry, ensure the widespread of the Turian-Human sexual educational pamphlet... alongside complimentary epipens to all humans affected.

I'd be very disappointed in humanity if there WASN'T a porno category for us at least a couple of years in the aftermath of first contact.

Humans already have produced so much porn–the anal section alone would cost you an entire lifetime to watch through, and you wouldn't even make it halfway through the category. We've been making porn since ancient times, be it oil paintings, statues or written erotica.

There will be a flood of human porn into the galactic web once we connect our Internet to their network. And that's just human on human action!

The asari, undoubtedly, dominate the industry. The first ever published alien on human video was with an asari. The first couple hundreds were, the other species simply haven't warmed up to us yet.

However, the first homemade porn video between an alien and a human was with a turian. The first contact war forced the two species to get closer by virtue of beating the shit out of each other, it came to no one's surprise that it turned into hatefucking after the council put a stop to fighting.

The turian government tried to deny it and keep it on the down low. But seeing how human microbes being deadly to turians, and that the turians themselves found the humans irresistible and much more breedable than they'd ever admit, the government was forced into action to protect the wellbeing of its people.

Insiders encouraging the widespread of human porn, paying pornsites to host educational videos and information about a turian could safely fuck a human. "Spit, never swallow," becoming an unironic slogan used in this campaign.

Unawarly, in an attempt to preserve whatever remains of their dignity by making this whole operation an open secret; the turian government have laid the very first stones into tha paved stairwell of making the turian population to be the highest consumers of human porn.

Be it Turian/Human or else. Hell, a lot of them prefer the Asari/Human videos, claiming it's like watching their two favourite things fuck. What's better than one candy bar? Two candy bars! smushed together. In bed. The human on the receiving end preferably because turians still get a special thrill from watching the humans act submissive and be put in their place.

-

At the end of the citadel mission in ME3, the devs unawarly made something very funny canon. If you're femshep and never romance anyone else through the entire game, you will wake up in bed with Javik.

This means that, canonly, the only prothean pornagrophy video to ever exist on the galactic web (Shep's house has cameras which are connected to the cloud) has been with a human.

If that doesn't cause a massive spike in the human category and make us truly rival the asari who have been oversturating the market for so long, I don't know what else does.

On a side note: geth and AI like EDI might consider the human/vibrators category to be of massive interest.

The whole myth of "did you know human women have no refactory period? They can orgasm indefinitely" spreads like widefire amongst the other races. Suddenly, everyone wants to test this out, asari scientists keep sending appeals to the human embassy despite continuous rejection.

-

For the human/turian safe sex, I think making out is off the table. Even without the whole microbes thing, I'm not sure how their peak with metal plates could've worked with our soft, easily injured lips. The skin on our faces is where it's thinnest. It's very easy to scratch and scar.

Not only does Mordin mention sending you some videos, but Garrus himself brings up the fact that he watched some videos and is now ready to...relieve out stress together, if you want.

Turian cum might be bad for you to digest orally, probably trigger your immune system into a false alarm. However, luckily, the immune system is not allowed in your reproductive organs! Just a precaution fail safe measure in our design so that your immune system doesn't end up accidentally hurting your reproductive ability when it invetabily fucks up, as immune systems tend to do on occasion, also see: pollen.

So you can get creempied by Garrus–and turians in general, no risk of death, allergy, or pregnancy!

As far as I know, besides the asari being a joker card that's compatible with every race, the drell are the only safe-ish species for humans to consume all of their fluids. Be it cum, saliva or...even tears! It will only get you high. No other species experiences that with them tho, so imagine the mindfuck that is to drell.

Suddenly told that your whole existence is a psychedelic to humans, that you could get one on cloud nine by a simple kiss.

[stormxpadme]

Whumptober 2024 No. 1 - Panic Attack

He woke up convinced, the tent roof must have torn. Sure, in the hurry of their departure, he'd probably been sloppy with the equipment check and reached for some old gear by accident which hadn’t withstood the test of heavy Canadian snow. Now his damn sleeping pad was soaked and by sunrise, he'd probably be down with some flu instead of helping his mission partner hunt down the deserted Weapon X armory they'd come here to check on after some alarming activity readings close by lately …

Only that couldn’t be quite right because he wasn’t freezing. At all.

The more, orientation tried to creep into his sleep-addled mind, the more he realized that actually, this felt more like his clothes and the paper-thin mattress were sticking to his numb-feeling skin sticky and salty instead of clammy and freezing. There was also the suspicious fact that his throat was burning with far too hectic, shallow breaths, every muscle in his body tense, his hands trembling so badly that even the weak attempt failed to push the cover, which also felt like he could easily have wrung it out to dry, off of his far too hot shape. And trying to shake off what had such an alarming grip on him, long after leaving an apparently far too intense REM state behind, only had those very same images in his head crash down on him all over.

Gritting his teeth, Scott rolled on his stomach and braced himself on both fists to force at least that tremor in his hands under control, gritting his labored breathing through his teeth with his eyes firmly shut behind his sleeping goggles as the disgusting sensation of cold sweat tried to keep stinging in them. More impatiently by the second, he waited for that newest wave of long-meaningless memories and slaughtered demons in his mind to pass, while he counted both the seconds and his blessings regarding his tent partner's absence, courtesy of Logan's hunting instincts having taken over before they'd even laid down. The last thing he needed right now was someone to baby him over what was nothing more than a couple of blurry images of a little blood and humiliation in his head. Not like Scott hadn’t had plenty of that long before the Orchis war already. Plus, he'd already had one embarrassing freakout over that shit after his little run-in with that asshole of a Suit in a certain diner a couple of days ago.

One panic attack a month, he could fit in his schedule if he squinted. That was already more attention than these latest bigot bastards whom mutant world had sent into oblivion, deserved.

He was pretty confident he'd gotten that message through to his rebellious body, feeling that unbearable tightness in his chest giving in slightly when he forced his thoughts onto the pleasantly intimate mission at hand that Logan had practically dragged him along to. Not least in order for the two of them to get some time to work out their issues. To find back whatever strength, harmony and stability they'd drawn from their feelings for each other on the moon at the time, and to move forward, finally, in this new, so much smaller mutant world, even without Jean by their side for the moment …

But that latest reminder that the woman Scott loved and had given his all and life for more than once, dwelled millions of light years away from him while he was busy keeping their mutual mission for peace on Earth together by the seams … That pain wrecked into the rusty wall around his messed-up emotional world right again, bringing back all that had haunted him in his dreams a minute ago. All that had followed his wife's latest temporary demise last summer, and a certain long fall, ending once more with Scott's body broken in more places than the Orchis medic hacks had managed or been willing to mend for many months … with none of those injuries coming even close to what had come after though. Close to what no one but the people present at the time knew details about, to what even Jean had only been able to guess at.

As the phantom pain throbbed through his still freshly relocated ribs, his scarred eyelids, his cramping guts, the acid of glycerine and copper and black powder burning on his tongue, he wondered, not for the first time, if this, right here, was why Jean preferred the vast open to the confined fucked up mess that was a marriage with him.

The shaking growing worse instead of better by the second, he found himself tearing at his soaked clothes without even really realizing it, brittle nails scratching faint stripes into his skin, his breathing hardly more than a wheezing, strangled hiss at this point that threatened to leave him dizzy instead of just lightheaded. Not that blacking out felt like the worst option right now.

Hell, whom was he trying to fool? He was a fucking wreck, pretending to resemble even a shadow of the once unwavering leader that whatever was left of the X-Men would have needed right now. It really was no surprise there were hardly any of their kind following his call to Alaska or that his own wife preferred not to be even in the same damn galaxy as him. And that the man Scott also happened to love couldn’t stand to be in one room with him for longer than an hour at a stretch and would probably fuck off from his life and team again as quickly as he'd shown up today …

Scott almost jumped out of his crawling skin when something ice-cold and wet suddenly grazed his neck, his hand – fortunately still quite uncoordinated – reaching for his glasses on pure instinct. Only when a familiar grip of faster reflexes pushed it back down to the ground, Scott spotted its familiar huge, hairy shape from the corner of his eyes, and his scrambled brain checked back in with reality.

Belatedly, he felt the soothing touch of a stiff fall breeze coming in through opened tent flap, filling his clenched lungs with a much needed sob of clear air, as a far gentler touch between his shoulder blades further grounded him, guiding him to lie flat on his stomach. His defensively clawed fists found another snow-filled piece of clothing somewhere in front of him to dig into, its temperature further helping to freeze the irrationally panicked reactions of his body bit by bit.

Only when the painful razor strokes in the back of his throat turned into a somewhat tolerable rhythm heaving his chest, the familiar weight of a smaller but far broader chest settled down on him, pressing him into the sweat-soiled mat, and Scott thought he should probably be disgusted. But for that, it felt far too good, at least not trembling away by himself in the dark anymore.

Not to mention that, while Logan was smelling of his unplanned sprint back to the tent, and of fur and blood of whatever he'd tried to cut them for a late-night snack, there was also that very familiar, comfortable fragrance of whiskey and tobacco and freshly cut woods surrounding him that Scott would always have recognized immediately in a million, no matter the meaningless escapades of the past that his messed up brain was caught in at any given time ...

And without him really realizing, the torturous tension in his limbs and spine finally left his stiff shape for good.

Finally, he could really breathe again.

Talk, even, though he knew his partner well enough at this point to be aware, that was usually pretty secondary to him. "I always forget how good you are with this."

Scott more knew the shrug to be there than feeling it or seeing it from the corner of his eyes when he arduously turned his head, trying to catch his lover's gaze.

"Routine." Logan nuzzled his face against Scott's still slightly feverish neck for a precious second of even more comfort, his thick beard scratching Scott's skin when just the hint of a kiss found his pulse line, drawing away as soon as his lover seemed satisfied with the pace there, enough to sit up again already.

Scott let him, though with the worst of the attack over, he was suddenly freezing miserably. But extensive cuddling was for victory sex, at most, or for those rare nights that they'd managed to spend together with the third in their relationship back then.

But he forced himself to turn around as soon as he could move again before his partner could vanish into the night again. This time, he managed to find the darkened look in those narrow bright eyes and immediately wished he wouldn’t have, seeing all reflected in there that the two of them had never worked out, even long before the fall of their last home.

Maybe they never would. Maybe in truth, they'd only come here, on this trip a couple of days apart from the others, to leave the past behind instead. To find a way to move on, somehow.

Scott just wished he had the faintest clue where to start. "What's routine saying, how long until the dreams stop?"

He didn’t need to specify, not with someone who'd been through his own plenty share of torture, of living with ticking bombs inside his body, of having been torn to pieces and put back together for sports.

Maybe Scott should take to nightly hunting himself.

Too bad that for an Alaskan, he famously lacked a real love for freezing his balls off.

A faint grin curled on Logan's lips as if he'd read his mind; Scott's reflexes actually were good enough again to catch when Logan threw him a flask with the good stuff and sat back against the still half-open tent flap. "Why do you think you never see me sleep, Slim?"

Scott let out an unhappy sigh and grimaced at the sharp taste in his mouth, happy to give the bottle right back. It wasn’t like he'd expected anything different. Logan wasn’t here to figure shit out for him. Only to support him while he tried to manage that on his own. "I lack the feral metabolism to get by on booze and passing out for an hour every other night. Can't run a team on coffee IVs and delirium speeches."

The hint of moonlight shining through the flap crack had Logan's sharp canines flash in a now broader smile. "Didn’t stop you couple of years back when we tried to kill each other at every turn."

Well, yeah, Scott had run into that one headfirst. "I like to think we progressed from there."

For a moment, Logan promptly looked as if he'd slip back outside immediately again at just a hint of that required but maybe not entirely urgent conversation in the air again …

When he saw Scott still slightly clumsily reaching for the covers again, he pulled the tent close from inside with an impatient sigh and got down on his own mattress, unceremoniously pulling Scott into his arms from behind. The ever-present heat of his mutation breathed a far more comfortable warmth into Scott's cells than those dreams earlier. No urgency of another kind, not out here, not when they were on the clock … But Scott thought, they might at least finally get to that once they'd return to the base, now that the silent awkwardness from the first few hours after Logan's arrival was beginning to fade.

"Us, maybe. The world didn’t. Not sure it ever will, Slim."

They'd had that talk before, too, not too long ago, so Scott just answered with a tired shrug. "Me neither. But if I gave up on it before we can tell for certain that it's hopeless, I'd become either Charles or Erik. Not sure either this damn piece of rock or I would go down first when it came to that. Is that what you want me to become?"

"If I did, I wouldn’t be here now, watching your thin ass for your wife until she comes back from her latest ego trip," Logan answered soberly, and Scott thought he should probably hate him a little for saying what he himself hadn’t even let himself think in such clear terms but couldn’t bring himself to.

If they were only holding on to each other for the moment, maybe this was a good time, making sure, that at least wouldn’t go to hell again anytime soon. "Maybe I don’t want you just as a placeholder. Maybe I want you to stick."

"Guys like us don’t do promises, Slim," Logan reminded him softly but pulled him another inch closer instead of pulling away, tree trunk-sized thigh bracketing Scott's hips, that possessive grip from earlier finding his lower stomach, and maybe it wouldn’t take longer than until dawn after all before they'd fuck away the last of the night's gloom. "But I've always been around when you said you needed me. Just get it in your thick skull that sometimes you gotta use your damn words for that. Can't always scent your cold sweat from everywhere, you know."

"I'll try," Scott murmured, his cheeks promptly an embarrassing shade of red not only thanks to the lingering heat of rising want in his cells.

They both knew he probably wouldn’t, just like they knew Logan would be around when it counted anyway.

It wasn’t a lot but that was already more light and stability than the rest of their kind had these days.

*******************************************************************************

@whumptober | @whumptober-archive

[book-of-baba-fett]

For the OC ask game!

Talia: 2, 7

Storm: 14, 20, 24

Edgy/Misc OC Ask Meme

Thanks so much for asking, Alli!! These are all really good questions for these characters.

2. What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them?

So when I designed Talia, I purposefully wanted her to be shorter in stature and not look as physically tough just because she plays into that a bit in her combat style, how she would be underestimated or how she could easily work in undercover situations because she wouldn't be suspected. That does shift a slight bit when she gets her scar from Maul, just because it's more obbvious but she cans till use that to her advantage. I also think Talia is the type who is good at pushing through whatever she's struggling with, atleast on the outside. Someone could look at her and not know if she was upset or worried about something because she's good at putting on a brave face, that only falters with people she really trusts (like Rex.)

7. What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them?

I had originally planned on her being a Mandalorian Jedi! I was playing Kotor 1 and 2 when I was in the early brainstorming stages, and also watching Rebels and the idea of Mandalorian Jedi were really sticking in my head and I wanted to explore that a bit, but my idea for her shifted. I've also had some other plot details and such that shifted a lot as i've written this (it's been a two year process which is INSANE). But a lot of the overall has stayed the same.

14. How does your OC want to be seen by other characters?

I don't think Storm ever put a lot of thought into how he wanted to be seen by others, besides maybe as a capable cadet when he was training. Some of that shifted after the incident with Maul and losing member of the 412th; he out in extra work after that so he could still be seen as a strong command figure, and kinda shelved his own guilt over it. Storm succeeds in portraying himself how he wants to be seen; most know him as a steady, strong, and reliable man, and what Storm really wants to be seen is as someone good who tried his hardest for his men, and Talia.

20. What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them?

So this is an interesting question for Storm, because I haven't gotten into much of his story with his love interest, Rhys yet. Storm isn't the type to get jealous in the way that if Rhys were hanging out with someone else or mentioning and old lover. What he gets jealous of, even if he wouldn't admit it, is the way other couples can have a normal relationship, that they can go on without thinking about the war and be happy but circumstance overshadows his and Rhys's whole relationship.

24. What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions?

So Storm started out as a member of the Wolfpack: he was promoted to Captain after the start of the war when Talia was knighted with the goal that he would head her battalion. HIs entire trajectory would have changed then: he missed the Malevolence because he was in command training.

There's also a big AU I have for Storm, but I can't say yet because SPOILERS. BUt yeah. We haven't seen the end of him in cannon.

[cipheramnesia]

Three ships rested in a calm system, and three crews mixed themselves up in the heart of Genghis Khan. Disposable cups filled with bitter fermentation and improvised boar jerky and veg chips were scattered liberally, with such relief that GK didn't even bring up the mess - although Laika periodically tidied the worst of it into a corner.

Loren was proposing Maryam come on board The Paperclip as a navigator. "You cannot afford me," she said. Nguyen hung off Sy, slightly more drunk and too loud. "I can't believe that worked." Sy passed her to Dandrige, gave Laika's hand a squeeze. He held her up and, a little awkwardly, asked, "What worked? I thought you guys were carrying them or something."

"Nah," Laika hadn't stopped grinning and blushing. "We stuck GK's navigation into their ship. Then we hit return to sender."

"I don't know nearly as much about that stuff as Cat," Dandridge said, "but no way that could work."

"It normally would take a huge amount of work, but Sla... er Doc, your lady who stole a space station, you know," Sy waved his free hand. Perhaps a bit more drunk after all. "Anyway, did y'all know she's some big shot in translation between languages and systems and stuff? And she'd been working out GK's thingamajigs since she came on board."

"Where is ol' Blaine? Sloane? Whatev?" Nguyen was saved from falling into her lean towards Sy by Dandridge's gentle hand pushing her back upright.

"Oh shit! I'll be right back, hold on," Sy loped crookedly out of the room.

Loren had turned to asking Serah about coming on board The Paperclip, but she'd sloshed against Maryam with an, "Oh no, she's not gettin rid of me as easy as all that." Trevor and Talbert seemed to be in a shockingly detailed conversation about tidal gravity with some of the Oxswain wolves. Betty and Twist, Laika remembered. Engineering degrees like Sy.

Most of the diamonds had got dumped into Oxswain, Laika had enough to make some stipulations stick. Oxswain would be able to take on more strays with the money. They'd also be able to square up some of the shitty land deals they pulled on the original Panay settlement. It wasn't going to undo all the damage but Laika was already getting a pretty good idea of how little amount of good one person could do in a great big civilization. Worth it, she figured.

"Whaddya think happens with all the colony data?" She spoke abruptly.

"We're gonna blow the lid off this whole mess!" said Nguyen.

Dandridge shrugged. "Maybe nothing. Might stop a couple wars, save some ecologies from a terraform somewhere. Dunno."

Laika stared at her empty cup. "Yeah."

"Still," Dandridge said, "it was good. It was something."

"Yeah."

Sy came back with an unwrapped set of gold discs. "Doc said to hang onto these, I thought uh, we could see what it was. It says Play Me on the top one."

With only a few mistakes, they were able to settle the discs on GK's altar, set to play through one of the upper crystals. "That's our Slaine," Dandridge muttered, "She's the only one who could make something this complicated."

"That is, in the most essential way, correct. The complexity and encoding of this device is a means to ensure there is no way to debate who provided it, as well as vetting the authenticity of the information therein," GK said.

Conversations had drifted to a close to watch the set up, and as the discs slowly spun, they saw Doc appear in an image with her glasses off. Laika still couldn't see the linguist's eyes clearly as she began to speak. She rambled as much as ever, but with an improved clarity and direction.

"Let your feelings exist in elevation," Doc said, "and the knowledge that my experience is a great part of my desire. In this passage, I find greater words await." Which was when Laika realized it was a goodbye.

All I have come to learn in my time between earth and its worlds has given meaning to my life, and what I have come to understand in my time with Genghis Khan is that I have understood so little thus far. I depart both to gain language and words beyond my greatest hopes, and also by some means to attone for the ghosts I will leave behind.

I will confess now to deliberately misleading you. On my own, I could never have assured your safety. My Heartbeat Abyss, whose frequency has aligned to my own in a way unlike any other, provided the final assurance that you will not find yourself hunted in the aftermath of our scheme, should we succeed.

Should you be viewing this recording, it means that my adaptors have allowed Heartbeat Abyss to successfully assume control of the Marzanna. In this way, we will prevent its return as well as prevent its point of origin from being readily traced from our point of intersection with the origin system of Genghis Khan. And besides all that, it will be good that we have our own ship as we set forth in hopes of greater understanding of languages and patterns far beyond what we have known in the past.

I am including in this message a lifetime subscription to three major academic linguistic publications. We may never find each other again, but I am certain to continue publishing. Perhaps I will also join Heartbeat Abyss in the electromagnetic spectrum. I am done now. Goodbye.

● ● ● ● ●

Hours and more hours later, Laika walked around Genghis Khan's dim corridors. It didn't raise the light levels around her and she didn't ask. She hadn't had much time to feel still within GK. Even in the wide open dark, it wasn't wholly silent - here the faint patter of some internal system of GK, or there stiffled giggles, probably Betty and Twist, a few snores, clicking from GK, and a bit of wind that never went away. Laika found herself on the bridge. She sat down on the uncomfortable floor.

"Hello Laika," GK said, quietly.

"Hi GK. Guess you feel better, no more Doc. No chance the Pilot track you down."

"I do not know if my feelings about either of those conditions could be considered optimal."

"Yeah. I know. You're free though, you got the sky. We're both free."

"Is this how you feel, Laika? Free?"

"I feel, I don't know. Itchy. Like there's something I should be doing." She waved a hand. "Can't sleep."

"There are many things we could do. We can move beyond the limitations of this primitive civilation. Or..."

"Or?"

"Utilizing the access and reach of the Lev Nitoburg and The Paperclip, as well as the files of the Marzanna, I am confident we can locate worlds which earth civilization is attempting to implement. We could prevent this."

"Lotta people might die."

"Many more will die if the worlds become part of earth civilization."

"GK, you wanna go pick a fight with a planet sized army?"

"Yes, Laika. I would like that very much."

"Alright then." Laika lay fully down on the floor. It jabbed uncomfortably into her back, and she discovered she was a little sleepy. "GK, did you know Maryam wants to change the name of the Lev Nitoburg? She thinks it's a stupid name."

"That is understandable."

"We probably need like, a real doctor."

"Laika, I would like to have a different name as well."

She smiled. "I know the feeling. Probably got something in mind already, I bet."

"I am that which it is my purpose to be," it said. "I would like my purpose to be Instrument To Hold The Memory Of Lost History And Sentry Against Implimentation Built In Death Of Free Civilization."

Laika shut her eyes, drifting into half a slumber and thoughts of the future. Standing watch and keeping memories alive. Sounded good. Worth it. "I can remember that for you," she said. "But is there something shorter we can use?"

"Yes," it said. "I already know just the right word."

THE END

a story by @rox-and-prose and @cipheramnesia

Part 8: Vigil

"I am not prone to long speeches," Vanya Steyr had said, welcoming the incoming new hires to the G1 Major Treaty Enforcement Central orientation day. Maryam had thought they seemed very impressive, perhaps evem dangerous.

"You will learn all the information you need to start your jobs here. You will not learn one right way to do your jobs until you are in the middle of them." They had stood at the front of a sizable auditorium, and had not used any amplification. Maryam remembered even after the subsequent weeks of stultifying bureaucratic form memorization and procedural filing specific to Major Treaties, the departments, grades, fire safety, system safety, and so on.

Years of experience, climbing the ranks, passing pilot exams and system plotting. All of it each time seemed like the most information she could hope to retain, Vanya stuck with her. "When you are doing this work, at all levels," they said, "remember why we have major treaties. They are to protect us, earth and her civilization, wherever we may find ourselves. We protect ourselves from destroying ourselves, because it is our nature."

That was the most of Vany Steyr she had ever seen outside of the odd sysnet photo or short interview up until they took a personal interest in the Charybdis WMD case. Following Steyr's system jumps in the Marzanna, a ship that by what few specs she'd had the chance to glimpse was perhaps hundreds or thousands of times more dangerous than any WMD case she'd worked or reviewed, she worried over "it is our nature."

Maryam had always operated with the consideration that it was in the nature of everyone from earth civilization to protect themselves. This idea had given her comfort and guidance in her cases and the vast organized network of central bureaucracy. The scope of civilization, she sometimes pretended, was possible to see as one vastly extended process to keep its many inhabitants or societies safe. It drove fear and love and hate and hope and all those things.

She knew it was an oversimplification, but it gave her a place to start when she wasn't sure. The one possibility she'd never entertained until now was that Steyr had never meant it was in the nature of civilization to protect itself.

Trevor remained intensely focused in pulling the Lev Nitoburg off the map for the Marzanna's deep spacers. Maryam had no idea what was ever going on with the woman. Serah looked worried, maybe a little bit pale. It had been one thing to figure out Kan was spying for the boss, quite another to decide the boss was violating the most basic rule in civilation, while it happened right in front of their eyes.

Minutes ticked away between the system resolutions. Serah caught Maryam looking and gave a sick smile. She got up and went back to Serah, crouching by her chair. "Serah," she said.

"Hey," Serah said.

"There is no need worry so dearly," Maryam said. "This is the type of case we have all the time. It is nothing, a piece of cake."

"You're awful at lying."

"I am. But you have seen more of the Marzanna specifications than myself. Would you consider it falling within regulations? Would the Lev Nitoburg?"

"No... and... it's pushing it, toeing the letter of the treaty..."

"So it goes," Maryam said. "I only know I am of the belief that we owe it to our civilization to safeguard the treaty against WMD's, even if they are of our own invention."

"You're probably right." Serah looked at her screen. "Did you know that thing can project an artificial stellar gravity well?"

"I had some sense but I did not realize the extent of it."

"It could probably pull some planets apart. Maybe even destroy a sun, if you used it right." Serah's face was grim.

Maryam took one of Serah's hands in two of hers. Serah squeezed. "We are making the right choice." She squeezed back.

"We gotta be. Nothing but the right choice could ever feel this dumb."

[kpop-kitkat]

Demon Prince | Choi Beomgyu Pt. 1

pairing | demon!choi beomgyu x fem!reader

genre/cw | angst, demon au, vampire au, spooky, violence, mild language

wc | 1.5k

notes | me trying to be an eloquent storyteller xd

part 1. >>> part 2.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Myths. Everyone knows about them. Stories and legends many have claimed to be true, but they lacked evidence. One myth in particular was the idea that since the beginning of time, there has been a war going on; between vampires and demons. Now, if some old man walked into a cafe telling of such things, everyone would call him crazy and suggest he get his "illness" taken care of. They didn't believe in either of the two supernatural creatures, let alone the theory that they'd been enemies since the world's beginning. 

Some people, such as L/n Y/n, know that they exist. But they refuse to say anything for the sake of reputation, safety, and trust.

The two creatures are indeed real. Vampires are cold-blooded, sharp fanged, blood sucking individuals who love nothing more than to feed on a warm-blooded human. Demons however, are the sworn protectors of humanity. Although they seem frightening and malicious, they use their abilities, which are teleportation, flight, and exceptional strength, to defend the humans from the bloodthirsty mansion dwellers.

~~~~~

Y/n tossed and turned in her soft blankets as another sleepless night became evident to her. Let's just say, she was going through a difficult season. She had family drama, a totalled car, and a she recently came out of a toxic relationship with her ex-boyfriend. All of these things caused her to become depressed and have anxiety attacks frequently. The loud thunderstorm didn't help much either. She also had been reluctant to care for herself properly; not getting enough sleep, eating wrong, and refusing to have fellowship with friends.

Her heart was beating out of her chest, making it impossible for her to even relax. She decided to walk around her apartment, aimlessly.

She poured herself a glass of iced water before sitting at her kitchen counter and looking at a dark window. She watched two raindrops race to the bottom of the window pane.

Suddenly, her heart began beating at an alarmingly fast pace. She knew something wasn't right. It wasn't just normal anxiety. She could feel the danger in the air. Not knowing what else to do, she froze in her seat, waiting for whatever inevitable harm was coming to befall her.

A few crackling sounds were heard before the lights went out. The only light now came from the lightning that shown through the window. It was just enough to make it clear to Y/n that a tall, dark figure stood about fifteen feet in front of her. She was horrified when the figure began to laugh evilly, red eyes becoming apparent.

"Just stand still darling, and this will be a lot less painful," the figure suggested, as it began stepping closer to her. 

 Her instinct of fear finally kicked in as she ran to a closet and locked herself inside. 

 "Oh darling, please unlock the door, it'll only hurt for a second," the voice begged.

 She knew it was a lie. If every rumor she had heard about vampires was true, then she knew that the likelihood of surviving after a vampire encounter was not very good.

The door shook a couple of times and she prepared for him to finally break down the door when a loud grunt of pain was heard. 

 "Get the hell away from her," growled a new voice. 

 "Oh Beomgyu, standing between me and my prey are we?" the vampire laughed, wiping the blood from his lip.

 "You've taken enough blood in your life time. And I won't let you take hers," the other voice, known as Beomgyu, protested. 

"Are you implying something?" the vampire raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. I will end you." 

Y/n couldn't believe what she was hearing. She peered through the blinds of the closet door to watch the scene. 

Suddenly, Beomgyu pressed the vampire harshly against the wall.

 "Run! Get out of here!" Beomgyu yelled.

 She knew he could've only been talking to her, so she opened the door and ran towards the door of the apartment.

Beomgyu was so focused on Y/n getting to safety, that he didn't notice the vampire sweep his legs out from under him, tripping him. The vampire then chased after the girl and caught her before she could open the apartment door. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pressed a blade to her throat, causing a moan of distress from her.

 "I'll let the pretty little thing live if you leave this place and never show your face again," the vampire negotiated. 

Beomgyu considered all of his options, but decided when he saw the beautiful girl struggling for breath. In little time, he disappeared and reappeared behind the vampire, stabbing him through the heart with a blade. The cold-blooded creature gasped at the new sensation, and used his last moments of strength to slit the girl's throat, before falling dead and disinigreting. 

Y/n whimpered as she felt the hot liquid running down her neck and fell, only to be caught by her guardian demon Beomgyu. He held her in his arms as he inspected the wound. Luckily, he didn't cut her in a fatal spot, but it could kill her if the wound wasn't treated in time.

 "I'm so sorry Y/n," he whispered to her, as he searched for something in his jacket.

She would ask how he knew her name, but she was too worried to care.

Eventually, Beomgyu pulled something out of his jacket. It was a small bottle of red liquid. He carefully tilted her head up and tapped the bottle, causing a drop to fall into her mouth. Immediately, her cut began to close up. After a few seconds, she felt for her wound, only to find it was gone. She gasped and looked up at her hero.

"Thank you," was all she managed to say.

"Of course," the demon smiled, putting his healing potion away.

He then helped the mortal to her feet. "This is going to sound crazy, but you're not safe here. The the leader of the order of vampires knows you're here. There's a lot more to explain, but we don't have much time. You need to come with me," he told her, as he held her hands.

Although she hardly knew the handsome demon, she felt safe around him, and trusted him. She also decided that even if she was going to be kidnapped by him, it was better than being held captive by a vampire, or even killed.

 "Alright, I trust you. Beomgyu, isn't it?" she asked boldly.

"Yes," he confirmed. "I am Choi Beomgyu, son of Choi Baekhyun, the king of demons. I'm your appointed protector, that's how I know your name," he explained, clearing up a lot of confusion. 

~~Y/n~~

Imagine a demon saving you from being killed by a vampire. And turns out, that demon is a prince! And not only that, he's YOUR sworn protector. Not to mention he's breathtakingly hot with an amazing personality. Sounds like a nice dream, huh? Well for me, it's reality. And if you told me I would be running away with my protector who knows where a couple days ago, I would've never believed you.

 "I'm taking you to Castle Kyoto, my home. There, you will stay in your own room until it is safe for you to return. Now, hold my hand and don't let go," he said, gripping my hands a bit more tightly.

Suddenly, everything went dark. And when light returned, I sure wasn't in Seoul anymore. I stood in awe as I gazed upon the dark caste that glowed in the moonlight. Beomgyu quickly grabbed my wrist, pulling me behind some bushes. 

 "What?" I questioned, a bit confused.

He shushed me, pressing a finger to my lips. He then pointed to three heavily armored guards standing in front of the entrance gate. 

"Can't we teleport?" I suggested, much quieter than before. 

"Unfortunately no. My father built the walls so that we demons could not teleport through them," he sighed. "Whatever you do, don't let go of my hand."

~~~~~

We breathed a sigh of relief as we entered Beomgyu's bedroom without being seen. 

"I know I promised you a room, but I'm afraid you'll have to stay with me for awhile," Beomgyu panted, his sweaty figure leaning against the door. 

I couldn't help the blood rushing to my cheeks, so I hid myself. Never thought I'd be sharing a room with a sexy demon. Literally.

I collapsed onto his bed as he sat on the elegant vanity stool.

"I know it's a lot for you to take in, Y/n. I admire for being so brave," he admitted, giving me a slight smile, which I swear doubled my heart rate.

 "Oh, yeah," I shrugged. 

 He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, clearly exhausted. 

"Umm, Beomgyu?"

"Mmm," he hummed in response.

 "I know it's been a long day, but why was that vampire trying to kill me? And how did he know you?" 

He opened one of his eyes, and closed it again, sighing. "It's a long story..." 

"Please Beomgyu," I pleaded, desperate for an answer.

"You might not like this but, you're not who you think you are. You're...

[alottanothing]

Kismet

Summary: Evie prepares a meal for the stranger who helped her and finds herself more than a little smitten.

Previous Part: Hope

Word Count: 5707

Warnings: Language

Tag List: @ramilicious, @txmel, @edteche2, @gloriousdarkangelsworld, @diasimar, @xmxisxforxmaybe (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: Okay, I almost didn't get this up today because I was up most of the night sewing kilts for Highland Weekend at the Ohio Renfiare. BUT I stayed awake and did my final read-through, so this should be mostly okay. I skipped a couple steps in my editing to get this up on time but I think, for the most part, it's okay. If you see a grammatical booboo, just ignore it, I'll get in here sometime this week with my other two editing steps and find it, then repost this. Capisce? Okay, cool...now. I hope you enjoy it, I also hope my trying to phonetically write Mer's accent doesn't get too annoying. I know you really shouldn't write accents, but I think it helps add to the characters. And I do try to keep it to a minimum so it doesn't get annoying. Thanks for the love the first part received last month! I know waiting so long between updates is a bit sad after weekly updates with LtR. But life is busy right now and once a month is all can guarantee.

Jonny did not know how to keep a house.

In fact, Jonny did not know how to do much more than drink, argue, and get into fights. He was nothing but a thorn in Evie's side—never mind how much she needed him for a place to lay her head. A necessary thorn was still a thorn. Given the opportunity, she would rip it out as soon as she could and dress the wound promptly so she was finally able to heal better. She stayed only because she had no other choice. And every time Jonny raised his voice or stumbled in reeking of alcohol and red-faced, Evie could hear her best friend's warning in her head. Cynthia had begged her not to go with him, but she hadn't listened.

Oh, how she wished she had.

Luckily, Jonny wasn't the kind of man who liked to stay home which eased the ache of the ever-present thorn in her side. Whatever money he did have, he spent out on the town—the town being New Orleans. Like Evie, Jonny had been born and raised in the Big Apple, the noise and the chaos was part of him. As such, he hadn't taken to the quiet suburban life Bridge City offered as well as Evie. She liked the quiet, easy flow of the sleepy town. Her housemate loathed his new home. He thrived in disarray, thus, he found a group of like-minded young men to run amok with in the neighboring metropolis every chance he got.

If Jonny had been any sort of amicable company, the notion of him leaving most every night to wreak havoc several miles away would have been upsetting. Thankfully, his penchant for city life meant a good portion of Evie's days were spent out from under Jonny's tyranny. The hours he was gone were blissful and calm, and she relished in them. Whether she was creating art or tending to chores around the old house, Evie didn't care as long as Jonny wasn't there—never mind how lonely the routine often was.

Evie had never gotten the chance to meet Jonny's maternal grandmother, though she suspected she would have liked to. Unlike her grandson, she seemed like any other sweet elderly woman judging by the furnishings she'd left behind. There were dozens of lace doilies, and table cloths with soft patterns, decretive china even, but it was the plethora of photos the old woman kept that told Evie she'd carried a kindly heart. All of them were kept in pristine albums or intricate frames; they were the only barbles that seemed to have been cleaned or dusted with any regularity which spoke of how much she must have treasured them. Evie loved those tiny trinkets and black and white memories. It didn't matter that they were not her legacy of family heirlooms to keep, she adored them anyway.

She couldn't count the number of times she'd replaced a broken frame that had fallen victim to Jonny's drunken belligerence or scrubbed tirelessly at a stain he'd left on the patterned tablecloths. It proved to be a hefty undertaking, but dwelling in the fantasies of someone else's history let her forget the grief of her own. She was willing to sacrifice a little elbow grease if it allowed her mind to roam away from the shadow that never really seemed to vanish.

For all the effort Evie put in on the interior, the cottage held little in the way of curb appeal. The porch was sunken in the middle, the paint was peeling off in chunks, and the yard was mostly weeds. Worst, however, was the screen door which squeaked so loudly, every dog in the neighborhood howled in protest every time someone crossed the threshold. The outside needed love that Evie simply didn't have the energy to lend. Despite the grit, however, the foundations were sturdy enough that she didn't worry. The cottage proved to be stronger than she looked—a feat Evie felt she had in common with the old house. And while it was a swell enough place to rest her head, it never truly felt like home. Home was somewhere safe, and as long as Jonny lived under that roof she wasn't safe. Not really.

Fortunately, Jonny wasn't home when Evie returned after her run-in with Mr. Shelton—Mer, she corrected herself with a hint of a giddy smile. Without her housemate there, her evening promised to be hopeful instead of lonely, and she wasted no time in figuring out what to make for dinner.

With her red pumps replaced by her worn-in slippers and her blue checkered apron secured around her waist, she set a pot of water to boil and dialed the phone conveniently located in the kitchen. Every evening she called her sister-in-law to pass the time and keep up on unimportant gossip back home; this time, however, Evie was excited to finally have some good news to share.

"You got the job, didn't you?" Cynthia Clarke asked on the other end, sounding hopeful. "I knew you would."

Evie grinned, still amazed how the sound of Cyn's voice always seemed to settle some of the ever-present anxieties buzzing in her head. She missed her friend so much.

"I didn't even say yes."

"Did you or did you not get the job?" Cynthia pressed.

"I did," Evie confirmed and her smile grew hearing her friend cheer on the other end of the phone.

"See! I knew it." Cynthia said. "My gut feeling is always right."

Evie rolled her eyes and shook her head fondly.

"I think I'm gonna like working there too, so that's good." she mused as she stood at the stove, eyeing the pot of water she’d set to boil.

"That's so great, Ev. I'm so proud of you." Cynthia paused before continuing. "So, what are you up to tonight? Avoiding Jonny?"

"Sorta," Evie nodded even though she knew her friend wouldn't see.

As she continued to watch her cooking pot of water she told Cynthia all about her trouble with Jonny's car and the man who'd been so kind to help her.

"Wait. You invited the stranger over who fixed the car?" Concern was heavy in Cyn's voice, and Evie half expected a lecture to follow.

Despite knowing each other since childhood, Cynthia had taken on the role of her protector since Evie's family was no longer in the picture. The war had claimed Evie's father, and brother—although they'd never found her brother, Jimmy after he disappeared behind enemy lines. Evie never lost hope that Jimmy would one day be found, Cynthia though, was certain her husband was never coming home. After Cyn’s brother, Charlie, died at Normandy Cynthia had difficulty believing anyone was going to make it home. As for Evie's mother, losing a child and her husband to the war was too much for her tender heart and she passed not long after. Ever since, Cynthia was overcome with the need to act as Evie's guardian.

"He wouldn't let me pay him," Evie explained. "So I'm making him dinner—it seemed like the least I could do."

"I suppose…." Cynthia didn't sound convinced, if anything she sounded slightly irritated there was no quick way for her to argue the logic. "Just be careful, Evie. You don't know this guy—he could be another Jonny Doyle. Or worse."

"He's not," Evie said quickly. She wanted nothing more than to tell her friend all about how benevolent Mer was, but she decided against it. Cynthia would only argue that point somehow.

A long pause followed, and Evie wedged the receiver between her ear and shoulder so her hands were free to work on the meal.

"So, what are you cooking?" This time, there was a hint of jest in her friend's tone when she spoke.

The art of cooking was one creative outlet that Evie struggled with, second only to music. In her youth, her mother did all the cooking—it was a passion of her mother's—thus Evie had done little more than watch in wonder as her mother whipped up meal after meal effortlessly. Breakfast she the meal she was probably best at, apple pies too, but anything beyond that Evie required a step by step guide to prepare. And even then she lacked confidence. Thankfully, when she'd fled south, she remembered to grab her mother's cookbook. It was a cumbersome tome with yellowed pages and notes scribbled into the margins: a piece of art itself cultivated over years of collecting recipe after recipe starting the moment her mother stepped off the boat that brought her from Ireland. And like a witch and her spellbook, Evie depended on it.

"Spaghetti with garlic bread," Evie admitted feeling as though the meal lacked a certain something.

Pasta was something she knew held a low degree of difficulty when it came to preparing. Surely she couldn't mess up pasta.

“Mmm, I can almost smell it,” Cynthia said.

“Shut up.”

“No, seriously,” Cyn replied. “You’re mom’s spaghetti recipe was always my favorite.”

A doleful smile pulled at the corners of her lips, thinking back to her mother happily cooking in the kitchen as she sang a Celtic tune. It seemed strange that those moments would never again play out, instead they’d become bittersweet memories Evie could only relive in her mind.

“Mine too,” she murmured, suddenly missing her family.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, and Evie’s mind roamed the dregs of her grief before blinking back into reality and the hope of something happy to come.

“I need to go, Cyn,” Evie told her friend with a sigh. “I don’t want to burn the garlic bread.”

Cynthia chuckled and said her goodbye, only after making Evie promise to call her in the morning to let her know how everything went.

With her second hand restored after hanging up, Evelyn reached for her mother’s cookbook to give the steps another look over to ensure she had done everything and added every herb and ingredient she was supposed to. She’d followed everything perfectly, even factoring in the little notes scribbled into the margins left there by her mother—those she smiled at fondly and traced the fading ink with her fingers. Everything was as it should be. Even so, without a taste, Evie knew the sauce she had prepared would never be as savory as what her mother made so effortlessly.

“You were the artist in the kitchen, Ma,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll stick to paper and canvas.”

For the smallest of a moment Evie thought she would hear the warmth of her mother’s laugh, and when it never came she sighed again, trying not to dwell on the shadows behind her. What mattered was the light ahead.

Despite her lack of confidence, the meal came together without any severe hiccups. The noodles were not overcooked, the sauce was a complementing mix of savory and sweet (though, as she had guessed after a tiny taste, was not nearly as good as her mother's) and the garlic bread was nicely golden. A small tingle of pride manifested in the form of a surprised, but satisfied, smile as she surveyed the dinner before her.

“Not bad, Ev,” she told herself, knowing her mother would have been delighted.

With the cooking done, Evie threw a glance over her shoulder to the clock mounted on the wall, triggering a surge of anxiety to bubble in her gut. Stranger, perhaps, was the amount of excitement coursing through her veins. It was as though all of her happiness was riding on whether or not she would see Merriell again. None of it made sense; the man was little more than a stranger. The coupling of nerves and delight was not a feeling that put her ill at ease, however. She trusted it. And it was that peculiar sensation that seemed to fuel her movements.

With a few minutes to spare, Evie wandered into the small bathroom to freshen up. She made sure her hair was still pinned the way she liked—up and pretty. Her make-up was holding up nicely despite the heat; all she needed was a fresh layer of lipstick to complete the illusion of a put-together young lady. It wasn't often she wore a dress with heels and a face of cosmetics—she liked to when the opportunity arose, but she was just as comfortable in a pair of old overalls and smudges of charcoal on her face.

Just as she wiggled back into her red pumps—discarding her worn-in house slippers with a couple of calculated kicks—a knock on the door signaled Merriells arrival. Immediately a grin curled onto Evie's lips and her heart began to pound an anxious-excited rhythm. A blush threatened to color her cheeks to give away the torrid muscle beating in her chest—her ever yearning heart already making leaps and bounds for a man she had known for mere hours.

Don't be ridiculous—she warned herself taking in a deep breath to curb the eagerness coursing in her veins. Untying her apron, she tossed it along with her discarded slippers and went to answer the door, taking one last deep breath to steady the fervor in her heart.

Merriell had changed and showered. The sweet bouquet of his shampoo coupled invitingly with the musk of the aftershave he'd chosen, making it difficult for Evie to keep from soaking in the scent he carried. His curls were still somewhat damp—too much moisture in the air to keep the heat from drying them on his way over—though they fought to spring back into their previous fluff. The grease-covered, jeans he'd been wearing had been replaced by a nice pair of tan slacks, and the buttoned shirt he wore was a soft shade of green that made his eyes glitter a deeper emerald as he stood under the glow of the porch light. All Evie could do was stare—utterly beguiled—every rational thought in her head lost to her.

Mer smirked, amused by her ogling. "Hiya."

Evie blinked, coming back to reality, suddenly feeling foolish, and uttered a nervous "hi" before swinging her arm to invite him inside.

"Come in."

Merriell's smile grew as he crossed the threshold, inhaling deeply. "Mm, smells tasty in here."

He gently forced a bottle into her hands as he passed on his way to investigate the savory smells in the kitchen.

"I wasn' sho what ya was makin', but I figured wine usually goes with anythin'."

"Oh, thank you." Evie glanced at the label, unable to read the French words printed there. "You didn't have to bring anything."

"I know," Mer shrugged, placing his hands in his pockets. "I just wanted to make a good impression."

There was something almost boyish when he smiled then—cheeks coloring pink ever-so-slightly—that made him even more of a mystery. One Evie was eager to solve.

"Well," she said placing the bottle on the kitchen table. "It should go perfectly with dinner."

His expression lost a hint of its boyish charm as it grew into a look of delight.

"Make yourself at home," Evie gestured vaguely between the table and the sofa in the living room as she ventured to the cabinet where the stemware was kept.

She placed two crystal glasses on the table along with the wine and retraced her steps to fetch some of the nicer china Jonny's grandmother had kept. Mer watched her, his gaze, gentle and attentive, and a little bit yearning as she methodically sat the table.

"Need help with anythin'?" he asked finally.

"Nope," She replied with a smile. "Everything is almost ready."

The hearty red sauce on the stove was beginning to boil again which told her it was hot enough to serve, and Evie eyed the pot with scrutiny, praying silently her attempt at cooking would go over well.

"I'll pour us a glass then," Mer announced.

"Great, lemme…" Evie spun to fish for the corkscrew in the drawer of misfit utensils, finding it, only to turn to see Merriell holding his lighter against the neck of the dark bottle just below the cork.

Before she could ask, a loud pop sounded, causing her to jump as the cork went flying.

"Oh my goodness!" she laughed, a little surprised, a little impressed. "Where did you learn to do that?"

Mer shrugged, a sly expression on his features, and left her question unanswered.

"How much ya want?" He held the open bottle over the top of her glass, waiting patiently.

"Enough," she said, tossing him a coy smirk without really meaning to.

He bit his lower lip as he smiled, chuckling under his breath when he poured a generous glass of red wine for each of them. She thanked him as he took his seat and grabbed his plate to dish out their dinner.

"How much pasta would you like?"

Mer's face lit with charm and mischief as he turned to face her.

"Enough," he grinned.

The expression on his face was playful, his smirk devious and amused by his own response and his cheekiness settled warmly in Evie's stomach. Not only did she revel in it, but she also played into his whimsy and scooped as much spaghetti into his plate as she could before coupling it with the savory sauce and a slice of bread.

Despite being only strangers, the atmosphere that bloomed that evening was not marked by any hint of bashfulness, instead, it was relaxed and amiable. Warmth that Evie had longed to dwell in again—that unrefutable kindness she'd lost with the passing of her family—flowed uninhibited from the man sitting adjacent to her. His conversation was cautious but still jovial and genuine. It was the first time since running south Evie could recall what life felt like without grief and fear weighing upon her. Merriell was a stranger, but she felt safe with him. Jonny had never made her feel that way.

"So," Evie spoke as she twirled the last bit of pasta with her fork. "What is it you do, Mr. Shelton?"

Mer cast her a look of disapproval—no doubt in retaliation to being addressed so formally—before his features softened back into a neutral, yet somehow still amused side smirk.

"Nothin' too excitin'," he stated vaguely. "The odd jobs are what I like ta do the most—like fixin' ya car this aftah noon."

Without really meaning to, Evie leaned forward, resting her elbow and chin on the table, utterly enchanted by the beautiful stranger at her table.

"You like to get your hands dirty, huh? Fixing things?" she was entirely too intrigued with the thought of what he could do with his hands.

He shrugged, suddenly modest after a foray of playfully arrogant smirks and glances. It made him abruptly twice as charming.

"I've always had a knack for it, I guess." Merriell finished the food on his plate with the help of his remaining garlic bread to mop up the sauce still left on his dish.

"What about you?" he asked after chewing. "Ya workin' anywhere?"

All at once, a proud smile lit up Evie's face. After all the excitement of seeing Merriell again, she'd almost forgotten about her good news.

"Actually, I just got a job today—the general store downtown, Southern Comfort."

Mer's face lit up too, "Birdie's place?"

"Yeah, you know it?" Of course, he knows it! She thought, Bridge City's population was slightly less than the number of people who lived in a single district back home in New York. Everyone knew everyone else.

"Sho do—I was practically raised there…ole Birdie's like a second mothah to me."

"Really?" Evie found a great deal of comfort in that notion. In fact the more she thought on it, the more she realized how similar the old woman and Mer were; they radiated the same magnetism and sincerity.

"Mmhm," he nodded, his eyes focusing elsewhere as the veil of memories danced across the contours of his features. "My mama used ta work there…once upon a time…"

"Does she still work there?"

Merriell's face lost a hit of its levity and he swallowed as though to fight off the onslaught of sudden emotion threatening to cast a shadow onto his expression.

"No…" he said softly. "She—uh—she died, about a year ago."

Shit!

Abruptly, sick knots twisted into Evie's stomach, feeling callous, but understanding of the quiet misery he hid under layers of charm and arrogance.

"Merriell, I'm…I'm sorry—I didn't mean…"

He met her eyes and cast her a quick smile—doleful, but enough to ease the awful feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"It's okay," he reassured her, reaching for his glass of wine and taking a good gulp before changing the subject. "Birdie's great—you'll enjoy workin' for her."

"I hope so…" Evie said softly, still too embarrassed to meet Mer's glance longer than a second or two.

For the first time all night the atmosphere they shared felt cumbersome—perhaps more melancholy—than she'd wanted it to get. Evie sat, worrying her bottom lip, her fingers toying with a loose thread in the table cloth as she stole quick glances through her lashes in Mer's direction.

He was nursing the alcohol in his glass with the same sadness she'd caught plaguing him as he sat at the bar hours ago. And while Evie was eager to know if his grief stemmed only from the loss of his mother, or perhaps more, Merriell was still too much of a stranger to warrant such questions. It didn't matter how easy it was to be near him, she had not earned the right to know his narrative.

A soft sigh broke past her lips as she fought to find a way to properly allay the gloom that was quickly ruining an otherwise wonderful evening. It wasn't until her eyes found their desert sitting on the counter, waiting to save the day, that she perked up.

"Got any room for apple pie?" Evie asked with a hesitant smile. She hoped he wanted to stay long enough to have a slice, though she would not have blamed him for wanting to leave.

Immediately Mer perked up too, the shadows on his features retreating with the promise of something sweet.

"I was countin' on it—seems as how you promised a slice earlier," he said with a boyish grin.

When she stood, he did too, helping clear away their dinner plates, and letting them soak in the sink to be washed later. Evie cut them each a slice of apple pie and the delight on Mer’s face made her smile too seeing him lick his lips as his grin continued to grow. Catching that flash of his tongue was like a bolt of hot lightning striking her without warning; a blush rose so quickly on her cheeks Evie had to look away to keep the blunder a secret. Thankfully, the pie was more than enough to hold Merriell’s attention away from her.

“Mmmm… Almost looks too good to eat,” he said ogling the desert in front of him.

When Evie chanced a look his way, the expression on his face caused her to chuckle, “‘oughta be, I made one for my pa every year for his birthday since I was nine. It’s probably the only thing I have any confidence in making in the kitchen.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Mer quipped as he loaded his fork with as much pie as he could.

The moment he took a bite, his brows creased, and eyes closed as he chewed painfully slow. Those few seconds were like agony. Evie’s heart was pounding in her chest with so much anticipation she feared she might faint as she watched him sample the only thing she could actually make that was worth a damn.

“Fuck me, if that ain’t the best apple pie I’ve evah had the pleasure of tasting.”

A somewhat nervous, but relieved chuckle sounded in the back of Evelyn’s throat as she watched Merriell shovel a larger bite of pie into his mouth.

“Mmm… Yep. God damn delightful.”

“Stop,” Evie said sheepishly, suddenly afraid he was overselling his reaction to keep from hurting her feelings.

“No,” he wiped his mouth and leaned across the table to meet her gaze with a sincere expression that stole away all the doubt writhing in her stomach.

“I mean it. If I wasn’t so full of pasta, I’d eat that whole damn pie right now.”

“Well,” Evie grinned softly, trying not to let her blush color her cheeks too obviously. “Thank you. And you’re welcome to take the rest of it when you go.”

Excitement took form on his face with a smirk that was sweet but roguish all at once—a sort of debonair charm that amplified his magnetism—as if his bright eyes dark curls and razor-sharp jaw did not make him alluring enough already. Again she had to look away knowing the pink in her cheeks would be too strong to combat.

“Imma have ta take ya up on that offah. An’ I’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout you every time I cut me a slice.”

That blush was unstoppable; her heart was suddenly so smitten, it felt as though butterflies were fluttering merrily in her stomach. She felt weightless with warmth and hope swelling in her bosom, fearing any slight breeze would carry her off. It was ridiculous how at ease Evie felt sitting there eating pie with a complete stranger. The conversation had been easy all night; even when it had delved into less savory topics he still made her feel comfortable. Evelyn had forgotten what it was like to be in the company of a man who wasn’t easy to anger, who was genuine and kind and wanted only to live in the moment.

For a time the whimsy of the atmosphere faded as the warmth in her heart ached, suddenly missing her brother James and Cynthia's brother Charlie. Both of them were good men, kind and genuine—like Merriell—but they had been swallowed by the rages of war. Brave young men were lost forever, while a man like Jonny Doyle was still alive How was that fair?

No matter how pleasant her thoughts could be, they always fell back to the grief that plagued her. She sighed, deeply, pushing those intrusive memories back into the depths of her mind so she could find joy once more in the moment with a kind stranger.

When Merrill finished his plate he made a beeline for the sink full of soaking dishes.

“Oh, no,” she said jumping to her feet. “I can do those.”

Merriell, however, shook his head. “Uh-uh, you did the cookin’, I can do the cleanin’.”

When Evie tried to argue, Mer simply shook his head, his grin amused but determined as he kept scrubbing the dirty dishes.

“Let me help at least,” she suggested. “I’ll dry and put them away.”

Before he could protest, she snatched the freshly rinsed dish from his hand and began wiping away the droplets of water clinging to the porcelain surface, throwing him a smug smirk that made him chuckle.

“Alright,“ he smirked.

She watched him for a moment not really paying attention to her task as he scrubbed the old plates clean, overcome with a blissful vision of peaceful domesticity. It made her stomach fill to the brim with whimsy and her heart was fluttering again; had this stranger bewitched her already? Or did what she feel bubbling lightly in her gut like a seltzer stem from an end to her loneliness—even if it was only for a few hours? Evelyn didn’t know. Nevertheless, she was intrigued with a profound feeling and she wanted to dwell in it for as long as she could.

Occasionally as he would hand a freshly washed dish her way, his calloused fingertips would brush against her skin, igniting a spark she didn’t know how to react to. It was more than an amicable tingle racing from the tips of her fingers right to her heart. And each time they touched, Merriell would cast her a gentle smile that held nothing more than his inherent charm and magnetism. She wondered if he felt it too, or if her need for companionship was playing a dirty trick on her.

When the dishes were all back in their usual places—the night drawing to a close—Evelyn realized she was not ready to say farewell to her Beautiful Stranger. She longed to stay up all night just chatting with him, she did not care about what, Evelyn only wanted to stay encompassed a while longer in the blissful warmth he brought into her life. Once he was gone, all she would be able to do was stay up and ponder the significance of those little touches and the sparks they brought.

Thankfully, Merriell lingered on the old rickety porch, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto his plate of leftover pie, seeming to stall their inevitable departure.

“Well,” he said with a grin. “Thank you for invitin’ a stranger ovah for dinna.” He paused, glancing at the leftover pie in his hand. “Can’t recall ever having a better plate of pasta, an’ nothin’ evah gonna beat this pie.”

Evie quickly looked at her feet to hide another blush.

“It was the least I could do,” she told him before looking back to meet his eyes. “You have no idea how much of a savior you were this afternoon…”

A glint of concern flashed in his eye, his brows beginning to crease as his unspoken question lingered between them.

She thought about telling him—telling him how Jonny was nothing more than a throne in her side, and how much she cherished Merriells company—but Mer was still a stranger. It wasn’t right to unload so much onto someone she’d only known for a few hours.

Before Mer could offer any reply, the sound of screeching tires stole all their focus as an old wagon pulled along the curb—narrowly missing a collision with the mailbox. The rowdy passengers were laughing and shouting loud enough even before the door opened to let Jonny stumble out. He staggered on drunk feet and screamed a handful of profanities to his buddies in the car which made them all roar with laughter.

It was only after the wagon full of hooligans pulled away that Jonny began to stagger towards the house, and it was exactly then that Evie’s fluttering heart became consumed with panic.

She and Mer watched him cross the yard, unseen, both frozen: Evie in fear and Merriell in confusion. Jonny’s intoxication level inhibited him from taking notice of them until he was at the base of the steps leading onto the porch. Immediately, his eyes narrowed and he frowned.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Jonny, this is Mr. Merriell Shelton,” Evie said quickly, willing her voice not to shake.

The Doyle’s were not known for their hospitality, nor were they known to trust most people. Especially strangers.

“He helped me this afternoon with a bit of trouble I was having,” she explained vaguely, hoping to thwart any more suspicion. “I made him dinner to say thank you—he’s just about to leave.”

Jonny eyed Merriell, seizing him up as best he could through drunken lenses. Mer stood his ground, eyeing him back with a subtle intensity that never so much as cracked under Jonny’s scrutiny.

Finally, being the better man, Mer held out his hand in a friendly manner, “nice ta meet ya.”

Jonny cast a prolonged glare at Merriell's open hand, his brows furrowed and part of his lip hiked up in a sort of snarl. Instead of returning the kind gesture, Jonny made a show of spitting at his feet before tossing his heavy leer at Evelyn.

"Evie, do not invite any more strangers into my house. I don't care if they are dying." He shoved past them both, purposely bumping Mer's shoulder (most likely in hopes to start something) muttering as he went: "I don't trust any of these filthy southerners."

Shock sent Evie's jaw slack; this time the redness in her cheeks was a symptom of embarrassment instead of infatuation. She should have known Jonny would say something rude and uncouth. Without another thought, she grabbed Mer by his sleeve and pulled him across the lawn until they stood next to his truck parked along the curb.

"I am so sorry about him," she said, crossing her arms and glaring at Jonny's house, ashamed and angry.

Mer shrugged as he placed his partially eaten pie in the passenger seat through the open window before fixing his hands in his front pockets.

"Ya boyfriend's a bit of an asshole."

"He is not my boyfriend," Evie corrected vehemently. "I don't think he knows that though. I'm just staying here until I can figure some things out."

Merriell was quiet a moment, nodding silently. It seemed as though he was taking his time processing the whole situation. There was compassion on his face and behind his eyes, but it was guarded somehow. Evie caught it though and she was grateful when he didn't ask the questions plainly forming in his mind.

"Well," he said finally, his tone light as one corner of his mouth quirked into a grin. "Since he ain't ya othah half, I feel more inclined ta leave ya with this…"

Gently, Merriell caressed her upper arm as he leaned forward to plant a tender kiss on her cheek. He let his lips linger slightly longer than was common for such an act, that all at once wove a new hopefulness into her heart.

"Dinna was swell," he added as he pulled away, his smile somehow more charming than it had been all night. "Hope I see ya again, Evie."

"Me too," she murmured.

Evie watched as he got in his truck to leave, her hand held to the cheek he'd graced with his kiss. And when he drove away, it took everything inside of her to keep from running after him.

[sukkatherapy]

💙{SUKKA PLAYLIST}💚

So in my fandom career, one of the first stages of commitment to a ship is dedicating a music playlist to them. As you may have guessed, Sukka is no exception.

Out of all the playlists I've made, Sukka's was definitely the most fun to make, as they are just so aesthetically pleasing. 🤧

I have 11 songs total and I recommend copying the songs and insert them into a playlist on whatever music service you use.

Good Times ~All Time Low

(you can see my post for this song here)

{"I never wanna leave this sunset town, but one day the time may come. And I'll take it at your word, and carry on. I'll hate the goodbye, but I wont forget the good times."}

Reread those lyrics. I dare you to tell me that isn't the fire nation attack scene in "The Warriors of Kyoshi".

Desert Moon ~ Mena Massoud & Naomi Scott

{"'Cause it waits for you there, and if you see it too, I can find my way to you."}

So the graphics I vision for this song are sorta based around Book 3 Sukka. I headcanon that Sokka would look up to Yue for reassurance when feeling lost, such as when Suki was imprisoned and he had no idea where she was. Also, post-Book 3 when they are in their long distance relationship, I know they would miss each other like crazy. Something I see comforting them is the fact that they see the same moon.

White Horse ~ Taylor Swift

{"I was a dreamer before you went and let me down, now its too late for you and your white horse to come around."}

{"And there you are on your knees. Begging for forgiveness, begging for me."}

Now we all know Suki is our resident independent- badass- queen who doesn't need anyone to look out for her, especially a man. I thought that this song was a good parallel to when she was fed up with Sokka's sexist bs in "The Warriors of Kyoshi". Like I can imagine her having to hear this from so many people around her growing up, and to hear it from someone she showed interest in must be disappointing. Not a super happy rec, but a necessary one nonetheless.

Even When/ The Best Part ~ Olivia Rodrigo & Joshua Basset

{"The best part is knowing there's something in my dreams that always makes me smile, its you. The best part is knowing there's someone in my life that makes it all worth while, its you."}

{"Even when you and I are worlds apart, I hold you in my heart. Even when I'm a thousand miles away, I wish that I could stay with you."}

So oddly enough, I actually find enjoyment in 'High School Musical: The Musical: The Series'. But in the scene, the main couple sang this to each other when they couldn't be together for Valentine's day, and when I first heard it, my head immediately went to Sokka and Suki. Seeing that they had a long distance relationship for a decent amount of time and have many individual responsibilities, they are bound to miss some holidays and events. But even through that, they know they are the most important parts of each others lives.

Like I'm Gonna Lose You ~ Meghan Trainor & John Legend

{"So I'll kiss you longer babe, every chance that I get. I'll make the most of the minutes and love with no regret. Let's take our time to say what we want, use what we got before its all gone. 'Cause no, we're not promised tomorrow."}

I really love this song for them because after losing Yue, Sokka came to appreciate time, and didn't want to waste a moment with Suki. He realized that death can be sudden and real, which was why he was so protective of Suki during 'The Serpent's Pass'.

If I Can't Be With You ~ R5

{"I'd rather stay with you, if I had to choose. Baby you're the greatest, and I got everything to lose. And I just wanna be with you. And I can never get enough. Baby, give it all up I'd give it all up, if I cant be with you."}

I thought this song fit really well, and this lyric in particular reminds me of the failed escape attempt in 'The Boiling Rock Pt. 1'. Suki was willing to give up the concept of freedom if it meant staying to wait for Hakoda with Sokka.

Thinking Out Loud ~ Ed Sheeran

{"'Cause, honey, your soul could never grow old, it's evergreen. And, baby, your smile's forever in my mind and memory. I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways. And maybe it's all part of a plan. Well, I'll just keep on making the same mistakes, hoping that you'll understand.

That, baby, now take me into your loving arms. Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars. Place your head on my beating heart. I'm thinking out loud, and maybe we found love right where we are."}

Another headcanon service. I can just picture them leisurely dancing to this in the living room when they're married.

Stuck With You ~ Ariana Grande & Justin Bieber

{"So, go ahead and drive me insane. Baby, run your mouth, I still wouldn't change being stuck with you, stuck with you, stuck with you."}

I thought this would be a good choice because as we see in the show, Suki will humor Sokka's jokes every once in a while versus just brushing them off. I can also see her being like "Hmm, you're an idiot, but I love it. I'm keeping you."

Gotta Find You ~ Joe Jonas

{"I need to try to get to where you are. Could it be you're not that far? You're the voice I hear inside my head, the reason that I'm singing. I need to find you, I gotta find you."}

Enough said.👏

Lift Me Up ~ The Afters

{"You know my heart is heavy, and the hurt is deep. But when I feel like giving up, you're reminding me. That we all fall down sometimes, When I hit the ground,

You lift me up when I am weak, your arms wrap around me. Your love catches me, so I'm letting go. You lift me up when I can't see, your heart's all that I need. Your love carries me, so I'm letting go."}

So I really love this song and feel that it could be used for literally any atla ship or even atla as a whole, due to the theme and aesthetic (might mess around and make an edit😏). One of my favorite things about Sukka is how supportive they are of each other, and how easily they make each other happy. They've seen each other at low points, they've been on death row, but through that they were still there cheering each other on.

Lucky ~ Jason Mraz & Colbie Caillat

{"They don't know how long it takes, waiting for a love like this. Every time we say goodbye, I wish we had one more kiss. I'll wait for you, I promise you, I will."}

I think this pretty much sums up their time together during 'The Serpent's Pass'. They were apart for so long-and with the war, had no reason to really believe they'd see each other again. But then by chance they were brought together again, revealed their feelings, only to have to split up again. But through that, they didn't let the distance bother them, as they stayed committed to each other.

{"Lucky we're in love in every way. Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed. Lucky to be coming home someday."}

Well, we all know they're hopelessly in love, but I feel like this highlights one of the most important aspects of them; no matter how long or far apart they are, they always come running home to each other.

Well that was defiantly a doozy😅. Thanks to those who stuck around this far!

[necarion]

There are a couple thoughts here:

Obviously, World War 1 was hugely contingent - it's plausible we could have avoided one entirely (at least for multiple decades) had Franz Ferdinand's driver not made that one wrong turn. Sleepwalkers has the thesis that WWI happened when it did in part because the European powers hadn't quite internalized how expensive and devastating the war was going to be (everyone thought they'd win easily, and didn't think through what that meant). But it also happened at a weak point in the international alliance system when a bunch of countries needed to pressure their allies out of senses of fickleness (the Balkan War triggered a bunch of bad feelings between Russia and France, etc.)

We probably would have still gotten a Franco-Prussian War, because Bismarck wanted to get his German unification. But maybe something changes and Germany doesn't take Alsace-Lorraine or something stupid (which would have lessened the French Revachism). After that, it obviously gets harder to predict.

However, I find it extremely unlikely that, whatever great power alliance system goes on in the world, the US and the Confederacy don't end up on opposite sides. Maybe there would be some cases where the two would be together, but there's going to be a strong incentive for rival blocs to get one or the other, if only to keep the States out of their own business.

Hence my thought that had any Great War occurred in the early 20th century, the American mainland would have been its own battlefields. If we don't have the Civil War in 1861, we almost certainly get it later, when war is more devastating and expensive. One of the major advantages the Union had in the Civil War was that the Confederacy had not had time to get its shit together and was starting way further back in its industrialization. After 20 years of arms race? With the Confederacy propped up rival European powers?

I visited Gettysburg with my parents and cousin a couple weeks ago, and my cousin was expressing his opinion that Lincoln should have let the Confederacy go, slavery would have ended, etc.

And while I think he's wrong on those metrics, I think there's a major way it would have been a disaster with hindsight:

There seems to me highly unlikely the two countries didn't end up on opposite sides in at least one of the world wars (and that's assuming we didn't trigger one fighting over the Arizona territories, or the CSA didn't invade Mexico or something). US entry into World War 1 is a "no fucking clue" for me, because Wilson was a southerner, but Roosevelt might have won in the north in 1912 and gotten involved way sooner.

For World War 2, I think it's safe to say that the South was, uh, somewhat closer aligned to the attitudes of the Nazis than the North was. (Assuming Hawaii belonged to the North), an attack on Pearl Harbor would only have brought the North into the war.

[itsbenedict]

Two-Faced Jewel: Session 10

Connections

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Last time, the party arrived in Cauterdale, the heavily-fortified port city at war with nature. They arrived in search of members of the Deathseekers' Guild- the organization of professional adventurers and monster-hunters that likes to be very up-front about its mortality rate- to handle a dragon problem that they're personally a little underleveled for.

While Looseleaf had a fateful encounter with the Plot at the Temple of Andra, Saelhen and Oyobi were headed to the barracks of the city guard, to speak to "Mags", the guard on duty when the local Deathseekers were last seen leaving town. And there...

You remember Medd Cutter, right? Highly-memorable Medd Cutter, the NPC who got oneshot by a T-rex and whose life the party saved? Well, to spite Rex... whatever his last name was, the pro-patria-mori asshole guard captain guy, Saelhen has decided that she's going to start spreading the word of Medd's heroism.

Oyobi, unfortunately, is bent on spreading the word of her own extremely ill-advised heroism, and so the two are having some sort of hype-off as they make their way into the barracks and effortlessly charm their way past the guards to where their quarry is posted.

These two are manning some sort of huge brass contraption, bristling with lenses and dials. One of them is a yuan-ti pureblood- which there are an unusual number of in the city guard, compared to the general population. Weird. Saelhen politely introduces herself, and Verity Truescale refers them to Magnaranth aka Mags, the loxodon who last saw the Deathseekers leave town.

Mags doesn't have a huge amount to tell them- the Deathseekers, evidently, were going hunting, out east somewhere. They brought a lot of torches, so apparently they were headed somewhere dark? Underground, maybe? They were pretty cagey about what exactly they were going out to do. Still, Mags can provide the names and addresses of the Deathseekers in question.

...And Verity, checking the instruments, notices that something is wrong with the tides- apparently something large is disturbing the waters, but they can't quite pinpoint what- it's not any of the usual suspects, which include things by the name of "Darkie" or "Unnessie". Ominous!

After that, the party meets up at the local Temple of Iska, their designated rendezvous point. They catch each other up on their gains, and decide... well, the Deathseekers are going to be back within a couple days, so they'll just wait for them in town and get going with them, to make sure things in Barley and Wheat go smoothly.

Of course, the question then is "where do we stay?"

Options aren't great- Cauterdale is crowded, and the B&B market is incredibly shitty. The best lodging is on Eman's Knee, the island just off the coast of Cauterdale, but getting the ferry over there is expensive, and resort lodging on a tropical island is also expensive.

That- you can't just- I mean, just because- I'm- I'm allowed to be predictable, okay???

(And anyway, it's Corolos where I ended up doing a murder mystery.)

So, Looseleaf gets a 24 investigating the town's B&B market, and finds a pretty good place! It's a weapons shop Saelhen noticed earlier, which is renting out rooms. The place has a huge fence topped with spikes, so they probably won't even get robbed!

Aria of War, as it happens, is run by an elderly yet ripped-as-hell tabaxi man, who Saelhen... vaguely recognizes.

Benedict I. (GM): So, this shopkeeper's coat is familiar to you. It's definitely not the same person, but you once knew a girl in Timber Towers named Toothbrush, with almost the exact same coat. Could be a relative! Saelhen du Fishercrown: Yeah, tabaxi have a lot of coat variation; it's not a safe bet that they're related, but Saelhen is willing to go out on a limb with him. "Good evening, sir, and I'm sorry to bother you, but I felt I had to ask..." Fish Especially: "No discounts." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Do you have any relation to a..." Was Toothbrush her real name? Benedict I. (GM): As far as you know! Tabaxi have weird names. Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Toothbrush?" Fish Especially: He looks surprised. "Hold on, you know Toothbrush?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...I knew I knew that speckle pattern." Saelhen smiles widely and without guile. "I met her in Timber Towers a while back. She played the violin." "More specifically, she couldn't play the violin, but she always failed very effectively." Fish Especially: "I'll be! Her theatre troupe doing all right for itself, then?" "Even with the noise of that awful thing?" "I never know what to think when she writes those letters..." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Last I saw of them, they were doing pretty well for themselves! To be honest, I did a stint with them for a bit, they wanted advice on a traditional elven piece..." Saelhen leans in on her elbows. "Oh, she mangled it, but she compensated with charm and that one face. Her confident face, you know the one, where you think she's so confident that maybe it's supposed to sound like that?" Fish Especially: He laughs. "You do know my girl!" "She hasn't written in- I think a year, now. How's she been?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Oh, it's been so long, I'm barely an authority by now -- but I remember she was talking about taking classes in -- what was it..." "...oh, where are my manners -- I'm Saelhen du Fishercrown, it's a pleasure." Saelhen reaches out for a very unelven handshake.

That she says this is notable for one big reason: this is the first time she's used her real name, and not "Lady Noeru de la Surplus". Nobody else in the party has heard this before!

It's also notable because according to Fish Especially, Toothbrush thought Saelhen was dead- and he's going to let her know otherwise.

Anyway, the deal for rooms goes through without incident, and the night also goes without incident! As is entirely normal, they hear Vayen in the halls making some sort of attempt to sneak into Saelhen's room in the night... and this time, sighing and going "never mind" without even attempting to pick the lock for some reason.

In the morning... Looseleaf grills Saelhen on the name thing, and she confesses the truth of the matter to the whole party- who take it fairly well.

After team bonding, the party heads to the Temple of Andra to check in and see if the Deathseekers have showed up. And by the stablehand's account, they have- or at least, a bunch of weird old people showed up to meet with Gabbro.

Gabbro seems surprised to see them- he was under the impression that they'd leave the matter to them. The further involvement of the party should be unnecessary, right...?

Looseleaf: "Oh, yeah, I was going to let you know we were staying in town and ask for you to let us know when the deathseekers showed up, but, uh, judging by that meeting we interrupted, they're already back and right here." Gabbro: "That is correct," he says, as the stablehand leaves. "I was just briefing them on the mission, you see." "The situation is well in hand, so you needn't concern yourselves with it any longer." "That pesky dragon shouldn't be an issue." Looseleaf: "W-well, uh. I was, uh, we were, kiiiinda hoping to travel with you back to the dragon's tower." "I mean, it's our quest, so, it'd be nice to, for us to see it happening so we can be sure of it, y'know?" Gabbro: He looks somewhat taken aback. "That... seems... risky, don't you think?" "To bring along... certain... people?" Looseleaf: "We're going to stay very very far away from the action! We're not that dumb!" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...I assure you that we have no intention of fighting the dragon ourselves, sir." Gabbro: "Ah, yes, of course not..." "However..." He gives Looseleaf a pleading look. Saelhen du Fishercrown: "And there are... certain persons in the nearby town, whose safety I would like to check up on. Personally." Looseleaf: He doesn't seem to want people witnessing the fight? It could be explicable through just, him being worried we'll get hurt. But it could also be, 'their deathseekers fight with methods that Orluthe in particular should not be allowed to witness.' Gabbro: "Ah, well, if that's the case... if you don't mean to get involved with the Deathseekers and their work..." Looseleaf: "We're not going to- we don't want any claim to the loot in the tower either, if that's a problem! Everything in the tower is you and your group's prerogative to deal with however we like."

Gabbro seems... put slightly more at ease, and decides to introduce the group to the ones who'll be their traveling companions shortly- the Cauterdale Deathseekers.

In order:

Doon Softbreeze, half-halfling rogue and all-around Grunkle Stan-type, friendliest with the party.

Kevin Softbreeze, Doon's soft-spoken herbalist husband and that's it, probably, just a gardener.

John Human, an extremely decrepit extremely human man who seems to make weird buzzing sounds when he speaks, as if with mouthparts instead of human lips.

Ryuusatsu Takuma, totally silent elf (not present at this meeting with Gabbro) who probably just doesn't like talking, is all.

Lady Fidelia Greatholder, heavily-armored and heavily-everything human noblewoman (also not present at this meeting), who- well, she shows up next session.

Gabbro makes a point of making clear to those present that Orluthe, who they'll be traveling with, is a cleric of Diamode- apparently they need to know this for some reason!

Doon's pretty friendly with the party, and offers to take on their job pro-bono- on the basis that, c'mon, if they could actually afford them, they wouldn't be knocking on their door for help. So it looks like they've enlisted some highly-capable dragonslayers with no ulterior motives! Fantastic.

Next time: The road back to Barley, and the tying up of a few loose ends in town. Saelhen needs to get her kimono back!

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

Oh, I will be the first to admit that messing with people's memories is highly questionable at best, and the Moonlaces know that. They spent ages agonizing over the decision, going back and forth over it all and trying to figure out if there was any other conceivable way. But they wanted to give little Calliope as much protection as they possibly could, and the best way to do that was to make sure no one could trace her back to them, and small children don't exactly excel at keeping secrets. So, even though it tore them up inside, they came to the conclusion that it was for the best that she not remember them, at least not until after the war.

Talia ended up being the one who worked the magic. It just so happened that in the course of her work in her private cursebreaking firm (which focuses on cursed objects and people, and involves no raiding of tombs) she had come across rather a few memory spells and through figuring out how to unravel them had gained a unique understanding of how they worked. She knew the subtle difference between erasing and suppressing a memory, and how best to make it retrievable at a later date without harming the person in question.

However, this? Making Calliope forget everything she'd ever known in preparation for sending her away? This was extremely emotionally stressful for Talia. In many ways she was more Calliope's mother than their shared mother was. Mr.&Mrs. Moonlace, while loving parents, had always been very busy people, working Ministry jobs (that I've never specified lol) and so whenever she was available to Talia ended up handling Calliope's day-to-day care. If Talia wasn't able to watch her Calliope was with their brother and his boyfriend/fiance/husband/whatever label they were using that week. (I'll talk about them in another ask because they're fun) So, yeah, the older siblings had essentially split custody of Calliope most of her life, they were the ones who were raising this little girl for the most part. They were the ones most heartbroken over this turn of events. And in turn those extreme emotions effected the magic. That wish Talia was holding in her heart that she didn't have to do this, that Calliope could have kept her memory, influenced the spell and, unbeknownst to Talia, it was incomplete. Calliope would always have vague memories of her birthfamily, and of just how loved she was. And those memories would only unobscure themselves more over time. Never completely, it would never break on it's own, but still.

The Moonlaces had always intended to find her after the war, to make themselves known and restore her memory. If she was happy with her muggle parents they weren't going to take her away, but they intended to be a part of her life again in whatever way they could. Unfortunately, by the time the war ended and it was safe that young muggle couple had divorced and moved, and they had no way of knowing where they had gone, or which parent Calliope had gone with, leaving the poor Moonlace family utterly heartbroken once again. They could only hope that Calliope would reenter the wizarding world on her own one day, and that by chance they'd meet again.

I'll likewise admit that there are justifiable situations when it comes to the use of memory charms. There's obliviating muggles to protect the secrecy of the wizarding world, and...yeah, that's about it. Even that is a bit of a gray area, especially if they realize what you're about to do and express opposition to it. I guess you could also argue that it's okay, if a person is say, blackmailing you with private information, to respond with the ultimate power move and erase said information (and nothing else) from their mind. Basically what Talbott wanted to do to Merula. Sure, you could make a case for that...but I don't know, I'm still not sure about it. In this case? Sorry, I'm still gonna say I don't approve, even if I'm sure they thought they were doing the right thing. It's the inverse of what Hermione did, and yet it's also so much worse because it was parents doing it to their young child.

Oh my god, the more I hear about this, the more it's kind of like the most recent storyline in Doctor Who, for those who have seen it, except with an arguably more noble storyline. The whole idea of a certain figure in the child's life being more important to them than their birth parents is something else I will never not relate to for the personal reasons of my own life shenanigans. Actually, this entire idea reminds me a lot of the Remembrance timeline because this is basically what Luca goes through, being subjected to a memory charm that is incomplete (though in their case, it's because they have inherent resistance to mental magic at the time, long story) but damn if this tale isn't tugging on my heartstrings. I cannot help but love that Talia made a wish and it came true, all through magic. That is actually destroying me with how beautiful it is, how dare you. That said, as much as the tragedy of them losing her in the sea of the muggle world does make me choke up as well...I mean, what did they expect? It's kind of the risk they took.

[ladala99]

Division

(Snowdrift's story, part 1?)(Reign of Luke)

Growing up, there were a few rules Snowdrift's mother Ashes taught him.

1) Do not go near with Ilere if you can help it. She's evil and may enchant you.

2) Do not try to interact with Lightning, Ember, or Penelope. They will not respond to you and Ilere probably has something to do with that.

3) Do not trust Sandy. Something's a bit off about her.

4) Listen to your father.

5) Live in roarin' fear of everything, even though you are a male lion, and if you get strong enough, you may inherit every broken thing around here.

Okay, Ashes never said the last one in those words. But that's what it felt like. Don't do this, don't do that, don't talk to lions you may someday rule over because they might be evil? At the same time, listen to Luke even though he trusts these evil lions.

Yeah. That made sense. Not.

Luke said the pride was supposed to be united, but this wasn't what Snowdrift thought 'united' was supposed to look like. Ilere's and Sandy's cubs played in their own part of the territory. Eclipse's, Luna's, Sunrise's, and Ashes' (including himself when he was younger) in another. Lightning's, Ember's and Penelope's seemed to hang around vacantly and not play with anyone. They'd gone from two prides living in different territories to three prides living in the same place.

This wasn't what he wanted to rule over. He needed to know everyone. And he'd start with the least-scary - his peers of Lightning's, Ember's, and Penelope's lines.

---

The three young lionesses seemed to be going through the motions of playing, but they weren't really into it. The youngest, a cub of Penelope's line, vacantly batted at the slow-moving tail of the oldest, a grown lioness of Ember's line. Lightning's daughter, not much older than Snowdrift, watched.

Penelope also had a boy named Flint, but he hung out with Ilere's group more often than his sister's group.

Okay, maybe least-scary wasn't accurate about these lionesses. But at least they weren't going to enchant him or something.

"Hey girls!" he called as he approached, trying to get their attention. They ignored him. He puffed out his chest and walked in front of the middle one in age. "I'm trying to meet the rest of the pride. What are you girls doing? Would you like to go out exploring or something?"

Lightning's Legacy seemed to finally see him. "We're fine," she said. She seemed tired.

"That was neither of the questions I asked," Snowdrift said.

"You're not going to get much more than that out of them," a new voice said. Two boys approached: Flint, who had spoken and was Penelope's son who didn't share his sister's sluggishness; and Omen, Ilere's son.

"Yeah," Omen said. You couldn't tell he was Ilere's son as he looked nothing like her. He had his father's pale golden coat and no distinct markings. "Their real selves aren't here."

"Real selves?" Snowdrift asked.

"Mom's got their real selves stuck in spirit form, just like their moms," Omen said. "How you see them is just them doing the bare minimum to seem normal."

"They don't seem very normal to me," Snowdrift said, "Or anyone I've talked to."

"It's mostly for Luke's sake," Flint said. "He doesn't realize how much she's doing to keep everything together."

That was a strange way to talk about it. "But everyone seems so apart," Snowdrift said. "That's why I came here. Mom always said not to talk to anyone other than Eclipse, Luna, Sunrise, their kids, Dad, and herself. We don't talk to you, you don't talk to us. How is that a pride?"

Flint smiled sadly. "You guys are allowed to be normal. Ilere's keeping them under enchantment because they want to rebel. You guys don't."

"The cubs want to rebel." Snowdrift didn't believe that.

"The cubs follow their mothers," Omen said. "Most of the time, anyway." He flicked his tail towards Flint.

"Hey, somebody's got to get close to your sister," Flint said with a smirk.

Omen shoved him. "Yeah, and somebody's going to have to leave the pride in a couple of months. And that's at least one of us, and only if we can take down old Dusty."

Dusty was one of the two adult submales, and the other Luke had named. No no one messed with Luke's elections, but the other could be challenged.

Of course, Luke had named Snowdrift as his heir of choice a lot more recently. Once he was grown, he'd be in that spot and the currently-named heir, Markus, a lion without connection to the huntresses, would have to challenge his rival to keep his spot.

"Maybe your sister would gain her powers and help me," Flint said, shrugging.

Omen shook his head, amused. He looked at Snowdrift. "You really should go back with the rest of the normal lions."

"And if I become king?" Snowdrift asked. "What, should I not know about all of this?"

The two boys looked at each other.

"You have a long way to go, kid," said Flint.

Snowdrift wanted to wipe that smirk off of his face, but restrained himself and stalked away. He'd finish this another day.

Or so he thought. He was partway towards the 'normal lion' part of the territory when he felt something warm against his flank. A lioness leaned into him. Ilere's Legacy, the adolescent his age.

"You're Luke's chosen one, aren't you?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said. He tried not to look directly at her eyes. He heard that was a bad idea.

"I overheard that you wanted to get to know everybody. Well, here I am. Do you want me to get Sandy's Legacy, too?"

Snowdrift looked around for the other boys, but they seemed to be gone. "Sure," he said.

He waited by a pointed stone as she strode off. She returned not too long after with the Legacy of Sandy's line, who was a Piebald much like Snowdrift. She was significantly older than him, though.

The two girls looked normal enough.

"Piebald," Sandy's Legacy noted. "Do you think that'll break the curse?"

Ilere's Legacy scrunched up her nose. "I sure hope not."

"Curse?" Snowdrift asked.

"Did no one tell you?" Ilere asked. "Maybe they wanted to wait until you were older, or they were more sure you'd be king material. Or maybe they just didn't want to scare you away. But uh, it's said that in life, lionesses in the Ilere line will be servant to Primal lions of Tiger's line, which Luke is. But in death, it's reversed. And if a Primal of Ilere's line becomes king, then. . . I don't know, he'll be pretty powerful or something."

"Omen has the potential," Sandy's Legacy said.

"Very small potential," Ilere said. "Yeah, he might be able to magic himself Primal, but that's not the same as being born with it."

"But since I'm Piebald, not Primal. . ." Snowdrift said, trailing off. He wasn't sure what that meant.

"We'll just have to see," Ilere said. "I don't think it'll make a difference. You're still mutated, just not in the same way. I'm not worried."

Snowdrift didn't know what to make of this. She said it so nonchalantly, like talking about the weather. Lions serving each other in life and death? He couldn't even begin to grasp with that might mean.

"Is your mom really evil?" he blurted.

"Of course Ilere's not," Sandy's Legacy said.

"Some lions think so," Ilere's Legacy said, "but she's doing what she does for the good of the pride. She's the only thing stopping another war." She shook her head. "I can only hope, if I grow to take her place, that whatever powers I have can keep the peace like hers can."

Snowdrift looked over at the enchanted cubs. "But, cubs? Are cubs going to start a war?"

"Not if they've been taught correctly," Ilere's Legacy said. "That's what we're trying to do. Because once my mom dies, they'll all be freed."

He was getting weirder and weirder vibes from her the more she spoke. She sounded reasonable enough, but reading into what she said made it seem sinister. 'Taught correctly,' or brainwashed?

"I have to go," he said. "Thanks for taking the time to talk to me, though!"

Ilere's Legacy rumbled friendily. "Anytime. Hope to see you around."

Snowdrift tried to make his retreat as casual as possible.

Mom was right. He should avoid those guys.