#ardea answers

[lonelywretchjervistetch]

The State Birds Initiative: Delaware (#1)

Welcome to the first official poll of the State Birds Initiative! Now, before the poll, one thing real quick. My suggestion is that you read the post below before voting in the poll below. That's especially important if you're lacking any context about the birds being presented as the new (or old) State Bird of the First State, Delaware. This is to be fully informed as to why these are being presented, and to make your choices appropriately. Lastly, some of these birds, you will notice, go against some of the rules listed in the introduction post. All is explained after the jump where the explanations are, I promise you that. But with that...OK! Here's the poll!

More details after the jump!

Welcome to Delaware, the First State!

Admitted into the Union in 1787 as the first state of this country, Delaware is the nation's second smallest, giving it the additional nickname "the Small Wonder"! Its capital is Dover, its most populous city if Wilmington (pictured above), and it's best known for its proximity to the Delaware River and the Delaware Bay, which it's actually named after. This does mean that Delaware Bay, for various reasons, will be one of the most important features of this post, since the wildlife that gathers around it is pretty ubiquitous in the state.

But OK, enough grade-school reporting of basic state statistics. What's Joe Biden's home state actually like, from the view of the citizens? On reddit, a user named hajisaurus said that Delaware is like a small town, but as an entire state. Compact, but eventful and familiar. Another user, raycooke, referred to it as the US condensed into miniature, with business in the north, beaches in the south and east, and farms in the middle. But the general vibe, it seems, is "familiar". Not overly friendly, but definitely close enough to be familiar. Also...the Bobbie.

God, that's a good looking sandwich. Invented in Delaware? Hell yeah. Anyway, off of turkey and onto birds. Personally, what all this says to me is that the chosen State Bird should be an easy-to-find sight, found throughout most of the state, and familiar to Delawareans in general. Something common but uniquely Delawarean would be great. In terms of habitat, water-bound seems appropriate, especially looking at beaches and estuaries. Again, the entire eastern border of the state touches the Delaware River or Bay, meaning water is somewhat important to the state (as is seafood).

Now, those Delawareans amongst us may have different opinions of what makes Delaware Delaware, and what represents its people most accurately. Which...yeah, I'm not from there, and I've only been there twice, and that's because I drove through it. Maybe went to one rest stop near Dover. And for the record, SOLID-ass rest stops in Delaware along the highway, just saying. Great job there, Delaware. But, yeah, PLEASE tell me if there's something else to take into account. And that goes for ALL of the states in this series, by the way. I can't claim to be an expert in any way here, so please call me on my bullshit if you feel that you have to. But, with that said, let's talk about what I do know: birds.

Red Knot (Calidris canutus)

For many of you, especially the bird-inclined amongst us, this was always going to be the obvious answer to this question. The Red Knot is an iconic Delaware bird for birdwatchers, as they're attracted to the state in MASSIVE numbers during migratory seasons. It's one of the most important and famous migrations in the country, and the flocks of Red Knots and other shorebirds are the main attraction. Why? Easy answer: the Atlantic Horseshoe Crab (Limulus polyphemus).

Delaware Bay is the site of the horseshoe crab's largest migration in the USA. This isn't the only place in the country they're found, but it's DEFINITELY the largest population of the species by a SIGHT. And speaking of iconic species, the horseshoe crab certainly fits the bill as a charismatic species of conservation concern. Which is why it may be curious that I'm highlighting the Red Knot, since they, y'know...EAT horseshoe crab eggs, alongside other birds in the great Atlantic seaboard migration. But that's actually why horseshoe crabs are so important.

Red Knots, amongst other shorebirds, depend on the horsehoe crabs for food, as these stopovers in Delaware Bay allow them to continue with their journey. Without the horseshoe crabs of Delaware, their life wouldn't be possible, and certainly not in the massive numbers found during migration. Understand, this is a threatened species, especially in the United States, that gathers in Delaware Bay in the thousands, with 2022 numbers being about 39,800 in a population. That's HUGE. The Red Knot is a symbol of this ecological boom, and both species should be celebrated. That's the reason the Red Knot is often given as the answer to this question of State Bird of Delaware, including by the Lab of Ornithology's article posted last year. Plus, it's got an iconic appearance, it's easy to find, and it tells a great story (which also includes a migratory distance of ~9,000 miles, which is crazy). Perfect, right?

...It doesn't breed in Delaware. It actually doesn't even breed in the United States. No, the Red Knot breeds in Nunavut and Greenland, above the limits of the Arctic Circle. I meant it when I said the Red Knot used Delaware as a stopover site. As such, it's an event when they arrive in Delaware twice a year...but they do leave. Pretty quickly, even. So, sure, the Red Knot is a great candidate for a number of reasons, but...is it OK if it doesn't actually breed in the state? I'd argue for it, since Delaware is is highest abundance of the species during migration in the country, and it's iconic in that way in particular. But I'll leave that as a question for you all to decide.

Let's go on to the next one, shall we?

Ring-billed Gull (Larus delawarensis)

OK, this one might be cheating a bit, since the bird in question is found basically...well, everywhere. It's definitely not native to Delaware alone, and doesn't even breed there. So why even include this bird in the running? Easy answer: it's in the name. It's the only bird species in the world with the state of Delaware in its scientific name. However, this is also cheating, since the name actually refers to the Delaware River, not the state itself. That's because the bird was first described and discovered along the river, which flows from New York, through New Jersey and Pennsylvania, until ending in Delaware and the Delaware Bay. And yeah...technically that was in New Jersey. BUT STILL! Only bird with Delaware in the name, just sayin'. And after all, if the Red Knot can be considered despite not breeding in the state, then...what about the Ring-billed Gull? Or...maybe I'll save this one for New Jersey.

American Kestrel (Falco sparverius)

OK, this one I'm actually a bit enthusiastic about, partially because I love raptors, and I especially love this raptor. The American Kestrel is a small falcon, and is in fact the smallest falcon (and raptor) in North America. About the size of a mourning dove, they're pint-sized predators, specializing on insects, rodents, lizards, and the occasional sparrow or songbird. They're also versatile, living all over the USA in various habitats. And that, of course, includes Delaware. This is a breeding species in the state, so it already has that above the other two previously discussed! And to top it all off...it's literally a small wonder. Come on, man! This is perfect! A scrappy falcon that's literally red, white, and grayish-blue!

But, OK, if it's common all over, why specifically Delaware? Because it's actually threatened in Delaware, fun fact. This is prominent enough to have inspired the Brandywine Zoo to work with the American Kestrel Partnership (part of The Peregrine Fund, who we'll discuss again on another day or five), and start the Delaware Kestrel Partnership, which monitors kestrel populations in the state. The species' population has decreased by 88% in Delaware and surrounding states in the last 50 years, which is...dramatic. It's a species that desperately needs saving and attention, and work in Delaware can be applied in the kestrel's entire range. Look, I beg you to check this out, because it's a fascinating set of projects. And honestly, this alone would have me include the American Kestrel on this list. Plus...that would also make this the first raptor to become a state bird.

Yeah. Take a look. NO raptors amongst the State Birds. Insane.

Great Blue Heron (Ardea herodias)

Now, this one seems out of nowhere, but hear me out. For whatever reason, the Great Blue Heron (Ardea herodias) seems to be completely ignored as a state bird across the entire country, despite it being one of the MOST iconic birds in the United States. I mean, come on, almost all of us have seen a GBH at some point in our lives, especially if we live near water. But why suggest it for Delaware specifically, then? Well, the herons breed in Delaware, so that's checked off. They're found in the state year-round, making them easy to access and identify with. They're definitely iconic in appearance. They highlight the marshlands and wetlands of Delaware as an important ecosystem of concern. And...uh...

Look, I'll be straight with you. "Blue Heron" is the closest I could get to...another set of words associated with Delaware and birds. Because honestly, it's genuinely somewhat difficult to separate Delaware from those two words, and this would be a fairly minor change that would allow the use of that term with little fuss! And honestly, the Great Blue Heron isn't the worst choice in the world for Delaware, even if it admittedly barely breeds in the state compared to others. And...like...oh, goddammit, fine, let's get this over with.

Delaware Blue Hen (Gallus domesticus)

Delaware. Look at me. Why...in the blue HELL...did you choose a goddamn chicken as your state bird? I mean, for God's sake, it's not a wild bird, and even if it is a breed developed in the state, IT IS A CHICKEN! What possible reason could there be to choose this bird over all the other possible birds? And look, I like chickens as much as the next guy. Used to raise and keep them as a kid, so I do love them, but this just feels wrong. But OK, let's make the argument for them by looking at Delaware's original argument.

So, from basic cursory research, the Delaware Blue Hen dates back to the Revolutionary War. Apparently, one of the regiments of the American army raised fighting game chickens that were so well-known, the regiment itself became known as the "Blue Hens". It's also possible that the leader of this regiment, Jonathan Caldwell, had a special blue hen that had blue offspring, and the men in the regiment also took to calling themselves "Sons of the Blue Hen." Which means...shit. That means the Blue Hen actually has cultural relevancy specific to the state of Delaware. Damn, that's actually a good argument for their assignment. But with that said...there actually is a problem here.

The Delaware Blue Hen doesn't technically exist.

Yeah, this isn't actually a recognized breed of chicken, despite the INSANE amount of devotion Delawareans have for it. I mean, military regiments, sports teams, even the unofficial nickname for the state is named after the Blue Hen, and it's technically not a real chicken breed. Instead, they're actually American Game hens that are crossed with Andalusian Blue hens to get that iconic coloration, but they're not actually an isolated breed.

So...what does this mean? Because this is genuinely a problem, right? Delaware's state bird doesn't actually exist, AND it's a chicken. Well...I have a proposition for you, Delaware. Because I do recognize the fact that the Blue Hen seems to mean a lot to you, both now and historically. So, if that's the case, we need to recontextualize this guy in a couple of ways. So, here's my proposition...

Make the Delaware Blue Hen the State Game Bird.

Haven't brought this up yet, but some states have what's called a "state game bird" alongside the actual state bird. Game birds, by the classical and nonscientific definition, are members of the Galliformes and Anseriformes that are associated with hunting and food. And technically...the chicken counts. Yeah, Delaware easily could ratify the Delaware Blue Hen into service as the State Game Bird, which makes even more sense when you consider its role AS A SPORTS MASCOT! See what I mean? But that's not the end of it.

You'll also have to find some way to get the hen recognized as an independent breed. I have NO idea what the process is for that (I guess this is the pathway to do it?), but it's probably gonna take a bunch of breeders and number of years to turn this into a defined breed. Hell, as it stands, not every chicken hatched to a Blue Hen is even blue. So, hey, get on it, Delawarean chicken breeders! Make you state proud!

And that's the information on the candidates for the Delaware State Bird! Will the Delaware maintain its place? Will the Red Knot take it, despite the controversy surrounding the choice? Will my bullshit proposal for the Great Blue Heron actually resonate with some people? Up to Tumblr!

As for the next state, it's time to hop next door to Pennsylvania, and to a State Bird that also technically doesn't exist...for a somewhat different reason. And yes, for the record, I know the below GIF is technically the wrong species, BUT MY CHOICES IN GIFS ARE FEW

See you soon, and happy birding!

Introduction to the State Birds Initiative

1. Delaware - Poll | Results 2. Pennsylvania - Poll | Results 3. New Jersey - Poll | Results 4. Georgia - Poll | Results 5. Connecticut - Poll | Results 6. Massachusetts - Poll | Results

[heron-knight]

As per your requests, something else with mechs.

in my opinion, this is how all Pegasus license levels happen

For as long as there has been warfare, there has been nothing more chaotic than the battlefield. There is only so far that strategy can go, because no matter what plans you make, no matter what the people say who think that strategy and resources is all there is to war because they have not been there themselves, there is always that moment where the the first shot is fired where all your plans pour out of your mind like blood dripping from a gunshot wound in an instant, where the two sons of Mars flow through the formerly organized ranks like ink on a cloth. Fear and Panic will always take hold, even after one of them vanished from the sky. No matter what predictions you make, to step into a battle is to offer yourself up to the whims of fate. Even as the storm above changed from stones to bullets to railgun rounds, RA only knows where each will end. Well, RA and one other.

Perched atop the highest points of the battle, wrapped tightly in cables and surrounded by heads-up displays, a library’s worth of information flowing from the Swallowtail’s cameras directly through her eyes, brain, and through the interface ports in the back of her skull every second, Isabel Ardea saw everything. Every shot fired, every weak point in the enemy frames. Each step that stumbled slightly, causing them to drop their guard for a second. She saw them. The lights of the screens danced across her retinas, showing her every aspect of the war at once. Each snap of shrike armor piercing through the hull of a grappled mech half a mile away. Each drop of molten metal onto the ground as the exterior plating of a tokugawa began to melt, tearing through its enemies like a flame across paper, driven by an NHP that did not know the pilot was dead and wouldn’t have cared if it knew. The information surged through her mind, filling every corner of her consciousness with data that the computer poured in before withdrawing it to replace it with new information fifty times a second, a rhythm of uploads and downloads to the chips that lined the inside of her skull that pulsed like a heartbeat of knowledge inside her skull. and she had never felt so alive. Suspended from the cables and swaying slightly with every shot of the Oracle LMG, she was like a spider at the center of her web, sensing each movement of the things within it as, with a message to command regarding the supply trucks on the other side of the hill, a storm of orbital cannon fire falling like meteors on the exact location she had indicated. The whole battlefield was like a tapestry she knew how to weave because she saw every thread, and everyone danced on her strings. Outside of combat she had a similar reputation. Half the time if someone needed to know something, they would just ask Isabel and she would always know the answer, sometimes before they finished asking the question. If someone had lost something, chances are they would find her wandering the halls looking for them because she had found it. She never forgot a face, remembered every name, and could memorize the mannerisms of someone to the extent that not even her NHP could tell the difference between her and someone she was trying to mimic when texting. She had only one weakness-- the actual combat side of a fight. Aside from her Oracle LMG, her Swallowtail had practically no method of taking someone out. Luckily, she had someone to deal with that. 

After the battle, she untied the ropes and cables that SSC insisted on installing instead of a cockpit. Dropping to the floor of the compartment, she stumbled over to the hatch, her balance still thrown off by the constant swaying of the last several hours. There was the familiar hiss of air as the compartment depressurized and she stepped out into the hangar. The walkways were packed with other pilots returning from the mission. She knew the names of everyone that wasn’t there that day, their mechs now smouldering heaps of slag being hosed down by the station Lancasters if they had been brought back at all. She hadn’t fully gotten used to it, but it wasn’t like she had the choice to not notice it. She took another look across the hangar before heading down the stairs and over to Koira’s mech. 

When Isabel had requested a solution to her low defensive capabilities, she had been surprised when they wheeled in a cryopod. “This one’s a bit tricky to keep alive” they had said, “but we think you’ll be able to handle her. It’ll definitely be worth it. You won’t find a better guard dog this side of the galaxy.” she had been under for quite some time, as was made clear by her antiquated hardware. None of the fancy interface ports that sealed automatically when you removed the cables, just the old-fashioned ones that let you see a full six inches into someone’s skull and prevented them from showering normally. Both the tech and the training had been heavily revised since she had received them. Pilots from Koira’s time were taught that they were weapons and modified until they practically were, and that didn’t just go away because there was no longer any such thing as handlers and she had been asked to choose a name that wasn’t a serial number. She had chosen “Koira,” and they thought nothing of it due to their limited linguistic knowledge. Isabel, meanwhile, knew fully that it meant “dog.” she hadn’t tried to stop her or get her to pick a different one, as unlike command, she knew that it wouldn’t be easy to adjust to being expected to be a person, and that it would be a while before she was able to live without the knowledge that she didn’t have to be the one making the decisions. She had followed Isabel around the station constantly for the first few months, never reacting well when left alone and usually draped over Isabel’s shoulders whenever she sat down or stopped walking. With her variety of unusual traits, It wasn’t all that surprising when she slid her license through the fabricator and the mech it printed was strange. A “Gorgon” command had called it, an unsettling thing that sat on oddly-shaped legs, its four long arms stretching out at odd angles, the fingers spindly and mildly offputting. A number of long antennas protruded straight forward from the place where its face would be, an odd piece of equipment that’s function would not be revealed some time, as Koira never wanted to talk about it other than that she didn’t like to use it. On the battlefield it was shockingly effective, tearing into anything that got remotely close to Isabel with a level of ferocity that she hadn’t seen even during the mission when she had encountered the Enkidu and rendering things immoble with a glance. Even when Koira was outside her mech, Isabel felt safer whenever she was around. 

She reached up from the walkway and ran her fingers along the rough surface of Koira’s mech. The cameras that dotted the surface in no particular order followed her hand as she slid it to the edge of the hatch and pressed the emergency release as she had done after every mission since she had met her “guard dog.” her hair flapped behind her as the pressurized air rushed out of the interior of the mech before falling back to her shoulders as she opened the compartment. Koira stumbled slightly before pitching forward and falling into her arms, the long cable sliding from the port in the back of her skull as she fell. She was always tired after missions. Maybe her mech didn’t give her as many stimulants, or maybe she simply tired herself out destroying anything she thought was a threat to Isabel as if any simple mistake would lead to her death. She muttered something as Isabel carried her down the stairs and through the crowds of the hanger, a question that followed every mission always in the same soft, exhausted yet determined voice-- “did I do good?” Isabel smiled and ran her fingers through Koira’s hair as she walked. They reached her room, the door sliding open automatically as soon as they approached. She set her down gently on the bed before lying down next to her, Koira positioned in between her and the door as she always insisted. Isabel pulled her closer, helping her move arms that were too tired to lift all the way  until Koira was able to wrap them around her. Isabel closed her eyes and focused on all the things she could feel-- the soft hum of station machinery. The warmth and weight that pressed against her, spending what little energy remained on ensuring that Isabel was safe before she drifted to sleep. Each breath and heartbeat. She ran her hand along Koira’s back, leaning in until she knew that she could feel the warmth of each exhale on her neck. She whispered softly to her. Thank you. You did really well today. You’ve always known how to keep me safe. 

She needed to be reminded of that. For her, it was all she existed for-- her set of instructions that she would follow at any cost, and if she wasn’t told that she had done well, she would always try harder. There had been an incident, once, where Isabel had scanned too fast and her computer had started to overheat. Koira hadn’t noticed the Lancaster and it had surprised her. She had rushed over to it in an instant, slamming into it and grabbing it with all four arms. She didn’t realize what it was until she had fired up the Basilisk and projected it directly into the Lancaster’s visual sensors point blank. Isabel realized why Koira didn’t like using it when they pulled the pilot out of the frame. He had been completely unresponsive, his eyes not focusing and his face covered in tears. He wouldn’t eat anymore, and couldn’t sleep without medication. It had taken months to piece his brain back together, and he still didn’t talk anymore. The night after that mission, she had tried to stand outside the door all night, unable to look Isabel in the eye but still needing to defend her. She had collapsed one hour into the night, and was too tired to stop Isabel from moving her back to the bed. She stayed awake for most of that night, keeping an eye on Koira. Even after she fell asleep, Isabel could still hear her breathing heavily as her tears soaked into the pillow. The times she had been quiet had been worse though, as every time her breathing slowed, there was always the fear that in that moment she had decided that she was too dangerous and stopped. She never fully accepted that it wasn’t her fault, and still looked at her Gorgon with the same apprehension that everyone else did. 

Isabel woke up in the middle of the night to find that Koira was not next to her. She had known that there had been some routine maintenance scheduled after the mechanics had found some anomalies with the Gorgon’s NHP, but she didn’t think anything of it until the alarms began to sound throughout the station and a panicked technician threw open the door shouting that Koira’s mech was cascading. Isabel rushed out of bed, throwing on her uniform and sprinting down the station’s hallways to the hangar. There was a heavy sense of dread that formed in the back of her mind as she reached her Swallowtail, pulling the emergency scaffolding release lever and climbing inside. It seeped into the computer as she linked to it, making every step feel heavier as it lurched forward into the hangar, snapping the access ladder that she didn’t wait for someone to remove. She rushed down past rows of mechs, each movement shaking her violently within the frame as she hadn’t gotten a chance to properly put on the harness, moving in that odd way that a Swallowtail runs, halfway between galloping and skittering. It wasn’t long before she heard the first hints of gunfire echoing across the hangar, and saw the Gorgon as it attacked the small squad of station guards that had responded to the alarms. It was even before she got closer that she knew. Before she saw the open cockpit, not bent or melted but warped somehow, like a printing error that had retroactively appeared. Before she saw this thing tearing at its exterior plating with hands that seemed sharper than before, the hydraulics and cables beneath twisting and contorting and flashing like a glitch, looking to an unsettling extent like muscle fibers in the way that they pulsed. Before she saw the blood dripping from the open hatch, the spikes that had sprouted from the walls and seat like branches, the single arm that dangled from it, pierced through by several spines and swayed with every movement of the monster whose controls it once operated. It was as soon as she saw this thing fight that she knew Koira was dead. Its attacks were not for the purposes of defense or even of finishing the fight. Driven by the rampaging NHP, its only goal was to kill. She saw as it lifted up one of its long arms and slammed it down on one of the guards, crawling forward with its other three like some terrible insect as it held the guard to the ground, leaving a line of red as it ground him down to nothing. The sight hit her like a hammer, leaving her unable to move. Her arms hung limply by her sides as she stared at this thing that used to mean she was safe. 

She couldn’t react in time as it turned its flashing antennae towards her and sprinted directly towards her, impacting and gripping the frame of the Swallowtail with all four arms, the claws scraping against the metal. She fumbled at the controls as it leaned in, the antenna nearly brushing against the visual sensors, not noticing as the barrel of the Oracle LMG pressed against it. Isabel wasn’t able to close her eyes fast enough as it activated the Basilisk.

Nobody had seen the Basilisk and been able to say what it looked like, but between the crying and the loss of will to live seen in everyone who saw it, most people had a general idea of what it was. Some horrible thing from beyond what can be known that is more terrifying than anything a human can comprehend, some paracausal force of fear itself that reaches into your mind and takes it apart. That had been Union’s leading theory since the pattern group known as the Gorgon had first been identified. There were still a few unanswered questions though. Like why an omninet signal was detected every time it was activated. Why when the antennae glowed and it tore a brain to shreds, every satellite telescope, every phone camera, every sonar array, every data server and every 3d-mapping scanner across all of civilization sent out a pulse. one chunk of data each sent across blinkspace. One image, one story, one datasheet.

The Basilisk showed Isabel the universe. Each movement of the stars across the endless cosmos. The cold surface of each airless moon. Every flower that bloomed in every field across every planet. Three seconds of enlightenment. A war raged ten star systems away and she saw it. Each bullet that flew through the air in every place there was violence. Through 1,000 trillion eyes, she saw the lives of everyone that was born and lived and died. Each speck of rage or love or fear that flowed through each mind that contained a neural implant. Solar flares swirling and flashing on a planetless star hundreds of light-years away, a mesmerizing tapestry of colors that humans never bothered to name because they could not see them. It was beautiful in a way that nothing could ever match, the totality of all existence before her. She felt the tears begin to roll down her face, the chemical composition and the functions of each bacteria that swam within them flooding her mind as soon as the information of what was in each tear began to exist. Then the antennae dimmed and cooled and the enlightenment was torn away. That’s  what the Basilisk truly did-- it shows you something so wonderful that nothing else could possibly compare and then it takes it from you, leaving you hollow. Indeed, there is no crueler weapon in the universe. It leaves you feeling that the information that has left your mind, grasping at data that has left because no brain could contain it. That’s what it should have done. Unfortunately for the NHP, Isabel Ardea was not the type of person to forget anything. It was still there. All the wisdom and secrets it had shown her, and she would not let them leave. Seconds later, its reactor ruptured as the Oracle LMG tore through it. Its grip weakened and it collapsed to the floor of the hangar.

Isabel didn’t go on any missions for a while after it happened. She didn’t walk around the station gossiping as she used to. She lay in bed most days, staring at the ceiling that she now knew the exact composition of. Koira was dead, and the bed felt far too cold now. She didn’t turn to face the door even when people entered to bring her meals or inject them directly into her veins after three days of her simply leaving them to rot because she wouldn’t turn in that direction because it was where Koira wasn’t. There hadn’t been enough of her left to return home, and even if there had been, even she hadn’t remembered where that had been for her. Isabel knew now, of course. She knew the history of every molecule of the bones that had just been vaporized in the station incinerator and vented into space. It didn’t hurt, knowing all this information, but she wished it did. She wished there was some reason for her to lie there other than the one she tried not to think of. She remembered Koira in every detail. The texture of her skin, the sound of her voice, the sort of mild chemical smell that followed her around. She could piece these together in her mind, placing a sort of construct of memory beside her. She knew how Koira would have pulled her closer, and she remembered the feel of her hands. She knew exactly what she would have said to her. It’s okay. You’re still safe. I can always keep you safe. The one difference was that she didn’t feel it. It didn’t matter how well Isabel remembered how her hair smelled. A memory couldn’t be warm. It was then, staring at the ceiling with blurry eyes and feeling nothing but what wasn’t there, that she had an idea. One that hit almost as hard upon formation as the sight of the single arm dangling from the open cockpit of the cascading Gorgon. She rose, shaking slightly as she moved through the spot on the bed where Koira wasn’t, and stumbled to the door. The station’s hallways were dark and cold. There was still one guard in front of the door to the hangar. They hadn’t cleaned up the mess yet and weren’t letting anyone in. The guard walked over to her. She had known him for a while-- all his hopes and secrets and fears. “Sorry, Isabel. We’re still working on cleaning up the hangar. Can’t let you in yet.” he said. Isable stared at him for a moment. She inhaled slowly, and then spoke.

“You will die five years, three months, ten hours, eight minutes, and thirty seconds from the time I am finished speaking. You’ll be walking across this hangar, a cup of subpar coffee in your left hand. You hear the snap of the rusted scaffolding before you see it fall. It’ll be a Saladin. A large frame, belonging to a pilot named Carlos. You haven’t met him yet, but you’ll become quite close, making what happens somewhat ironic. Time seems to slow as the mech falls, landing heavily and crushing you from the waist down. A large piece of scaffolding will fall as well, carried by it. It pierces through your ribcage and you can feel it as it tears a hole through your right lung. There’s a nauseating sensation as your blood begins to fill it, and you can feel it as it rises up from your lungs and fills your throat with that sickening warmth that tastes metallic when it reaches your mouth. It hurts more than anything you’ve felt before as your bones splinter and push between the fibers of your muscles like shrike armor through a hull. You try to pull yourself out from under the frame but your hands have become slippery with your own blood. It will take exactly one minute and 17 seconds for you to die, and during that entire time you will wish it was less.”

She looked up at the guard and saw that he was crying. Before she could say anything else, he shuffled slowly past her, then sprinted away down the hallway. She laughed, softly, before opening the door and walking into the unlit hangar. Each step echoed loudly as she strode over to her Swallowtail, the front two legs still detached after being snapped off by the Gorgon’s claws. She climbed in and connected the cables to her head before sitting down against the wall of the interior compartment. “Athena, are you there?” she said weakly.

“Always.” came the reply that flowed into her mind from her NHP. 

“I have an idea. I know it will work, and I know that you’re seeing it in my brain through the interface. You know that I can make it happen, and that if it works or even if it doesn’t--” her voice was starting to tremble as she spoke. “You won’t exist anymore. I need you to agree to it. I won’t do it otherwise. Even if both my friends die in this hangar, I can’t let it be because I murdered one of them.” she could feel Athena processing the information. 

“Do it.” Isabel exhaled shakily as the words entered her mind, before pulling the cables from their ports and climbing out of her mech. She strode over to the Gorgon, muttering under her breath in a prayer to whomever it may concern, not that RA would be particularly excited about what she was doing. She rummaged around in the still-bloodstained cockpit, most of the spikes having been sawed off but a few still remaining. Trying not to think about how much it would have hurt for Koira when they pierced her, she found the interface cable and slid it into her skull. Leaning back against the side of the seat, she searched what remained of the computer for what she was looking for. There it was-- the neural data records. Everything Koira had thought since she first linked with the mech. Every pain and fear and desire. Isabel reached into the hard drive with her mind and pulled out what was left of Koira. Etching it into her brain and memorizing every one and zero. She disconnected from it, crawling from the wreck and back over to her Swallowtail. 

“Are you ready?” she said to Athena as her hand hovered above the keyboard. The screen illuminated her face in the red light of the confirmation screen. The words CYCLE NHP? Flashed in front of her eyes.

“Yes. I’m ready. Don’t worry, it won’t feel any different for me than being cycled. It won't be easy, you know. This project you’re starting. But I know you don’t care. Take care of yourself, okay? And take care of her too. Tell Koira-- tell her that without her, I’d have been a smouldering wreck on some battlefield years ago. Tell her that even though I never really got a chance to meet her outside of combat, I still missed her. Alright, that’s enough. Do it.” Isabel pressed the button, and the screen went dark as Athena’s memory was deleted. She could hear her tears hitting the keyboard. This wasn’t the first time she had cycled Athena, but as the screen displayed the message asking if she’d like to reactivate her NHP and she slowly moved the cursor and clicked “no,” she knew that this time, she wouldn’t be seeing her again. She wouldn’t get a chance to get to know Athena all over again this time. She leaned back in the harness and stared upwards for a moment, before she returned to the blank screen in front of her and began to type. 

Isabel stayed in the Swallowtail for seven days. Not sleeping, not eating. The automated systems filled her veins with the necessary water and nutrients as she typed. She filled the blank slate that now occupied the casket with her memory of Koira. Every data point she had siphoned from the gorgon, every little strength and weakness and flaw that she remembered. Every moment they had been together was poured into the empty memory of the NHP before her. Her fingers began to bleed, the skin first bruising and then breaking until eventually the bones themselves were what hit the bloodstained keys 24/7. Each keystroke sent jolts of pain shooting up through her hands and throughout her body, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t leaving until this was done. 

After 170 straight hours of typing, she had finished. The entirety of Koira’s mind now lay before her as innumerable lines of code. Her hand shook as she reached forward, entering the command to activate the NHP. with one final keystroke, the screen darkened before brightening again. She felt a voice, Koira’s voice, because she had remembered it perfectly, flow through the cables and into her brain-- “did I-- did I do good?”  Isabel wiped the tears from her face as she stared at the screen. “I can’t feel my arms, Isabel. Or my legs, it doesn’t hurt though. I feel safe. I know that you saved me. I know that you brought me back. Thank you. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to leave you alone. It’s okay. I’m here again. I can feel the systems of your mech. They’re a part of me now. I can keep you safe.”

It had been a year since Koira had died and Isabel had brought her back, and Isabel’s mech dashed along the edge of the battle on its four spindly legs, autoguns targeting and firing at Koira’s command. Putting her into the mech had done something to Isabel’s license, and everyone but her was surprised by what happened when they put the Swallowtail into the printer to repair it. Everyone else was a bit unsettled by it, between its somewhat animalistic appearance and the space on its back that hurt to look at and shot you three seconds before you became its target. Isabel could look at it fine, though. She could see anything she wanted to by looking into it, whether it had happened yet or not. If she didn’t have a reputation before, she definitely did now, choosing a target, deciding that she had shot them, and watching them fall all in the same moment. Opening up a comms channel with whatever enemy she had locked onto and taunting them with predictions of their deaths. She would laugh as they shouted back through the channel, demanding to know how she knew about whatever family member she hypothesized would “miss you the most once I’m done with you.” she would simply sigh as Koira excitedly counted down the seconds that they always kept their prey waiting for an answer before slowly speaking--

“By the way, I know everything.”

[mistfallengw2]

In honor of Pride Month, here's a rapidfire ramble about my OCs' orientations and how those and their actual preferences play off with their personalities and shape key moments of their story. Bonus context for my hc on queerness in Tyria.

Aurelia Dragonwings - Pansexual homoromantic Girls are pretty. I mean, boys are neat too, but she only ever had eyes for Ardea and later on Ellara, and that clear preference never had her experiment with the other side. The one and only experience she had with a guy was with her best friend Obsius, specifically when Ardea wanted to have a cub and she took one round "just to try it", only to end up having a cub as well (Adamas is an oopsie baby, yes). In general, labels are very confusing to her and the topic of romance held a lot of grief for years, so she would avoid answering any question on the matter, but if someone were to ask her friends, they'd just say she "doesn't know she's lesbian for someone".

Adamas Crystalsoul - Pansexual He's a pretty boy with great pedigree and had waves of people interested in him, but in the fahrar he was too focused on becoming Legionnaire to entertain childhood crushes, and then his heart got snatched away by Maeveryl before he even considered romance an option, still recovering from the loss of his would-be warband. Countless hearts got crushed by the fact that the Pact Commander's son was open about dating a sylvari and being loyal to them, yet Deryn somehow managed to woo the guy (only because Maeveryl sometimes quite literally pushed him towards her). Overall he has a feminine and androgynous preference, though like his mother he never had a proper chance to explore romance with guys.

Tocchix - Demisexual panromantic (trans guy) He spent most of his teenage years feeling sort of inadequate for romance because he never felt "the full pull" towards anyone (not helped by the comparison to a serial crush-haver like Fynn, his best friend in Lion's Arch), so he preferred to focus on training hard and join the Order of Whispers, figuring that it'd be a problem for his older self. Terrible at picking up on flirting attempts and needing to have it very slowly and clearly spelled out for him, he missed a ton of chances with many, and that was not helped by the fact that when he falls for someone, he becomes the definition of devotion, not seeing anyone else even to his detriment. He only ever fell for Iotta, Poffi and, many years later, Huki.

Maeveryl - Panromantic asexual (non-binary) While they are pan, they do have a strong preference for masculinity, or better, a general aversion towards feminine behavior and appearance. They had their first experience with romance with their saplinghood best friend, Morwen, and they quickly figured out femininity wasn't really for them, both for their own body and in a partner. After that, they only had another experience that ended bitterly, and then Adamas became their heart. Years later, when Deryn joins their relationship with Adamas, they don't share romantic feelings for each other, though they quickly become quite platonically affectionate with each other.

Ellara Echodancer - Homosexual Just lesbian. Girls gals girls. Only women of all kinds. She's totally not a hot mess, because she's got rizz and isn't afraid to use it, even just to have a little innocent flirty fun that totally isn't a distraction.

Hel Ravenlost - Homosexual G g girls... pr... etty... Don't worry, after losing Sieran without having been able to tell her how she felt for years, she does get better at not completely hiding her feelings. Luck isn't on her side, but third time's the charm, I swear!

Bunnie - Pansexual demiromantic (non-binary) She likes to sleep around, so anyone willing and compatible (both personality-wise and physically) is fair game for her to have a little no-strings-attached fun. As for the romantic side, I elaborated on it a bit here, but in short she does want romantic relationships and isn't afraid of showing the kind of interest in others that could lead to that, but she always had issues with developing feelings of the romantic kind and having them last, so she tends to coyly hide behind a bit of an emotionally-nonchalant facade until she feels safe to love someone.

Ethanryel - Asexual aromantic (agender) Just never felt anything of either kind of attraction, and that's very much fine for them. Bunnie once explained queerplatonic relationships to them, but that ended up being a sore point for them. The closest thing to that could have been their bond with Grace, a Zephyrite gal who had taught them a lot about healing and voiced for them to join the Zephyrite on their last travel. She had a pretty evident crush on them yet she was the first that didn't make them uncomfortable, but before they got to talk about anything of that matter, she was mortally wounded in the crash in Dry Top, and they never forgave themselves for not having been able to save her. Years later, when Aurene branded their arm to save them, Ethanryel took the title of Grace of Aurene in memory of their friend.

Deryn - Pansexual Gender doesn't matter to her, if one is a nice and hot charr, they're a nice and hot charr. Probably if Mae were a charr she'd have made a move on them as well, but after the initial fascinated curiosity towards the very concept of sylvari, only strong platonic feelings towards them are left.

Markus Blake - Bisexual Due to his parents being in a queerplatonic relationship and being told since really young that he'd have assured the freedom to choose they nearly didn't get (Nora and Lionel were childhood best friends who married each otherso that they could have the kid they both did want and be done with further family expectations, with her being lesbian and him aroace), he never really thought much of romance, thinking he'd just know when he found "the one". When he met Kai, he thought he'd found that one and hoped she'd eventually return his feelings for years, failing at being clear with her about it while ignoring what he felt towards Fynn, the best friend he had found at the same time. It took him a while, but, by what felt just short of divine intervention, he eventually figured out that the "one" was actually "two".

Nari - Bisexual homoromantic Gals is where it's at. She does find feminine people hot in general and had a few experimental flirts across the gender spectrum, but proper relationships are something she knows she wants only with gals. She believes that such kind of strong confidence in her own ideas was what caught Hel's attention in spite of not being norn, not realizing that Hel prefers non-norn until much later.

Iotta - Pansexual demiromantic Her opinion of romance is that it sucks, like all that comes with it. Sure, people can be hot in ways that make sense from a biological standpoint, but for her whole life she couldn't imagine willingly being in a relationship, because everyone else is grossly incompetent and, at best, more annoying than what she could deal with on a daily basis. Being in a relationship with a dork like Tocchix only confirmed that she hates it, because that kind of implicit vulnerability and distracting fondness for someone else goes against everything she knows to be safe, and she utterly despises the fact she wants more of it and that she played herself into it by getting that brilliant idea of manipulating him in the first place. And then being "left behind" shattered any positive perception of romance nearly irreparably, and it drives her mad that she can't get that yearning blade out of her heart so it can rot in peace. So yeah, romance sucks, and it sucks that she fell for it that one time.

Poffi - Demisexual biromantic Growing up in a small krewe that was part of the same polyamorous pod for years and that treated her like their own progeny, she was exposed to plenty of relationship examples, so she thought she had a pretty clear idea of what she was like by the time she left home to join the Order. Sadly she never got the chance to test her theories due to her general insecurities, and she also missed the pretty important part where maybe some girls can be just as romanceable as guys. (hey, at least AU!Poffi gets to go through quite the poly rollercoaster)

Daunte Burstspell - Homosexual He's a simple charr: he liked his guys hot like his fire, and life was not a little fun without the risk of burns. Verge was his flame since childhood, and they openly shared their warmth with many others. Daunte continued doing so after losing him, and even though it was never the same, he did genuinely care for the young norn he so gleefully annoyed to no end.

Hagan Wesson - Pansexual Forced to run away from Hoelbrak and break up with his childhood sweetheart, Gretna (Hel's sister), he eventually tried to get over it in some way, and ended up having some... positively revealing experiences. Swinging for years between times where he wanted to enjoy himself without attachment and others where he tried to ignore everything else to focus on his duty in the Vigil, after Daunte's death he's been more open about enjoying other people's company, and eventually ended up being reunited with Gretna after he had already settled with Flom.

Flom - Pansexual Good thing he likes everything and is quick to like others, because he genuinely believed "beggars can't be choosers" for the longest time. Even better thing, he now has people he likes and who chose him first (and a demon in his head who regularly calls him out on bs he should unlearn).

Zehmik - Homosexual (masculine non-binary) Guys are just neat, sorry gals. Lost count of how many flings he entertained during his years in the Mist War, always keeping feelings at arms' length due to the risky nature of their situation and a heartbreak he never recovered from. The occasional experiment only confirmed his very serious case of gay gay homosexual gay.

Edraas Noiza - Asexual aromantic (?) Due to being a highly experimental hybrid, its body is a biological mess that may have yet to fully mature and its perception of emotions is different from that of all other sentient species, so the concept of romance or anything of that nature is downright alien to it.

Lenorey - Asexual ?romantic She doesn't really get what the big deal about romance is, not beyond just preferring someone's company over others', while sex is just an activity that can be fun. In general she cared more about getting high off of toxins, so it's all of little interest to her. Now, finding a weird little asura that is literally toxic, gives you more toxins as part of the experiments she asked to perform on you, and you get just a little bit high when you kiss her? Maybe that's what love feels like.

[livums]

🙌💀🍩 for anyone from the Marking Blood! - from lorenfinch

I'm gonna answer these for Dove I think! (And kind of for Sylah but that's incidental)

🙌 - How many sibling does your OC have?

Dove - Dove has two older brothers, Ardea and Halcyon. She has a different father than they do, and both of them are much older than she is. Neither of them show up in the story LOL

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

Dove - Dove really really really cannot stand bugs! One of the only things that makes her break composure.

Sylah (I'm also answering for hers because it's Plot Relevant) - Sylah is MEGA afraid of death. Few things make her more anxious than being confronted with her own mortality.

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

Here's where I have a reason for talking about both Dove and Sylah in the same post LOL

They're essentially the closest thing that they have to a rival for one another. They trained together, and both developed a similar (different flavors, but similar) rigidity and respect for authority and systems. Where both experience anxiety in the face of the unexpected, Dove responds more with bewilderment and paralysis, where Sylah (these days) just gets pissed off.

Because Sylah's father and the Guild have not historically seen eye to eye, she feels less connected to Guild structure and culture than someone like Dove, much to her frustration. Sylah knows that the Guild would more likely look upon her with suspicion than Dove, despite all of her effort, and it drives her mad. So as much as they have in common, as much as Sylah is technically Dove's senior, they do experience some tension.

And yet, they are the closest thing the other has to a friend.

Thank you for asking! <3

[olimpias]

Heeeey! I'm catching up on tags, and I came across your WIP titles one! :D Mind if I ask about "ada the unhinged assassin and her softie bf elliot"? (I'd ask about all of them because your titles are *fantastic*.)

oooh thank you so much!! i love talking abt this one especially since i havent introduced it here yet but there is a lot of stuff in my head soo

it’s a sci-fi dystopian thriller thingy that takes place in the unnamed capital of an unnamed country with an authoritarian government that relies on terrorising the people and threatening them with human experiments (and actually going through with it).

Ada Speer, our main character, is a resistance fighter who lives with her best friend Jaz (a night club singer) and Timmy (a hacker) in the basement of the club Jaz works in. Ada and Jaz met a few years ago when Ada was 16 and killed a guy who tried to molest Jaz and then they somehow moved in together.

Ada is actually unhinged. Like my girl has some serious mental problems and also an unnaturally close bondage with her knives but it’s not her fault ok. When she was 5, her brother (i still have to decide what to do with him) sent her to a girls’ boarding school that was Actual Hell. She had to share a room with a girl who despised her and bullied her in a truly awful way, she saw some of the girls she had become friends with be taken away in the middle of the night and she also had to endure the teachers’ horrible treatment and yeah. All peaches and cream right?

However, during one of her various attempts to run away, she meets a former knife-thrower from a circus and learns how to defend herself and fight (with knives. she hates guns). When she’s 16, she kills her roommate, cuts her hair like joan of arc and runs away for good. She comes to The City, meets Jaz and works on her plan to kill government officials and overthrow the government.

At some point, she meets Elliot in a casino (i yet have to decide why she’s there), a gambler who fights against the corrupt politicians by inviting them to a game of poker and cheating. Hehe. But hes a real sweetheart and hates violence (when he has to do it himself. when ada does it it turns him on tbh) and just wants to have world peace. He btw doesn’t have any less trauma than ada, it just shows differently. But explaining all that too would take too long now.

And yeah, they join forces and they are both into each other but ada is a really difficult person to like. Bc she doesn’t even like herself so. I don’t know how it’s going to end yet but that’s it so far. i love them a lot. very very much

(also here’s an excerpt as a treat)

The first time Ada Speer killed someone, she was sixteen years old. She stabbed the girl with a pair of scissors that she had just cut her hair with and it was insignificant, really. It was a necessity. She had it coming. (Thinking back, Ada was not sure if she would have done it again. Something she had noticed during the years was that people disliked being killed.)

The second time she killed someone was in a dark alley in The City. She was still sixteen but she felt like forty-three at least. A man was molesting a girl in a green, sparkling dress but Ada was wearing black so they only noticed her when she slit his throat. 

This was how she met Jaz.

Later, when they were sitting side by side near the river, Jaz said: “Look, I appreciate you saving me and everything but did you really have to kill him just like that?”

Ada looked at her in astonishment. “What else should I have done? Beat him up? He probably wouldn’t even have been grateful. And it wouldn’t have changed him either.” She wasn’t entirely sure if Jaz understood her reasoning.

What Ada just couldn’t process was why exactly people hated being killed so much. It wasn’t like they had any say in the matter. 

Ada had learnt very early in life that it was better not to be angry about things you couldn’t change. She stopped wondering why certain girls disappeared sometimes without an explanation but she figured that they would stop disappearing if the teachers were dead. This was something she would take care of later. 

At first, Jaz was a little hesitant to let Ada sleep in her room and Ada couldn’t really blame her for that. She liked Jaz and so she refrained from threatening her and in the end, Jaz saw that letting Ada stay with her was the best outcome for everyone.

Sorry if i went a little overboard here lmao i hope it doesn’t bother you but i was DYING to talk about it!

[moved-to-void-kissed]

*brings out a very large megaphone*

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DRAGON QUEST IX

[laaauc]

What inspired the names constance and area?

anne (mod anne not character anne) chose both of those but the origins are:

constance is named after a love choice character (as a nod to darcy's name being a reference to one of marcy's favorite video games) and ardea is named after a genus of heron (bc of sasha's connection to herons)

[arashicz]

12, 16, 41, 48, 51, 59 for the apprentice ask :D Sorry for the amount but I really want to hear all these :P

12. Favorite place in Vesuvia? Small safe space behind the shop where Ardea feeds the birds. Ardy doesn’t like crowds and she prefers to be alone/with animals.

16. What are their fears? Ardea is scared and afraid of many things, mainly ofthe darkness, loneliness, imprisonement, tight spaces and being stripped of her own will. She’salso afraid that she loses all her memories again.

41. What do they think of Nadia so far? Because Ardy is mainly Julian route MC, she only met Nadia when she asked her for help with finding him and Ardy then straight off jumped into relationship with him so she tries to avoid confrontation with Nadia at all costs.Nadia is admirable in Ardea’s eyes - she is intelligent, noble and graceful and so far does her job as a countess very good. Ardea didn’t want Nadia to discover the truth about her and Julian not because she knew she would be in trouble but also because she didn’t want Nadia to think less of her. Much to her surprise, Nadia was okay with her and Julian and even became a bro/companion/member of Ardy’s guild when fighting with the greater enemy (Devil).

48. Do they have any talents (except magic)? She’s a musical person. Ardy was taught to dance and sing when she was at court and despite she forgot all the dances and songs with the new body, she’s a fast learner.

51. What is their worst negative quality? She used to be pretty spoiled and somehow bratty when anybody wanted her to do something. Ardea grew up in a noble enviroment where everyone took care of her and this mindset is hard to overwrite. She needed exactly one (1) plague outbreak, one (1) magician leaving her and one (1) plague doctor hiring her to be finally able to underestand the value of hard work and help.This changed a bit after her resurrection since Asra took care of her and tried to raise her as a new, slightly better person so she would underestand the value of work, she wouldn’t be too shy and she would be more assertive in the presence of men.

59. How do they flirt?Ardy was a shy goose before her death. She did not flirt. At all. Hell even the thought of her flirting with someone gave her huge anxiety.Asra tried to pour some confidence in her after he resurrected her because he knew her relations with men were problematic before. So he gives her confidence and she’s more hands on. Literally. Ardy is touch centered and when she likes someone and she knows it won’t be a problem, she invades their personal space. She might brush the dust off their shoulders, she might bump into them “by accident”, she reassuringly places her hands on their forearms.

[circa-specturgia]

it's still Wednesday if I squint hehe ! So for worldbuilding thurdnesday, could you talk about Ciro's winged race? :o Do the wings look different, or are they all snowy white? How did they evolve their wings, or are they descended from something completely separate? Do they run into any trouble because of the wings - walking down the street, getting clothes fit, maybe people trying to steal a feather?

OHHH! Ok this is gonna be my chance to geek out a bit! Thanks so much for this ask @muddshadow!!! ✨

Note! Some of what I’ve got below is subject to some change as I’ve just came back to looking over the origins of the world and all and feel like it may be due for a rework of sorts, but this is what I’ve got for the time being!

The Æris (A’eyris), or Winged (Wing’yd), are one of several races inhabiting the world of Circa Specturgia. The unifying characteristic traits for a majority of Æris are:

- Wings. Obviously. It’s kinda self explanatory with the name, don’t know why I’m even mentioning this…

- Height varying between 200-250cm (6’6” - 8’2”). They’re taaallllll, in part because the heigh acts as counterbalance to the wingspan, in order to attain stable flight, but mainly because I like tall people ✨

- Weigh being lower than what would be expected for their height, due to alternate bone composition, more hollow like in birds, reducing weight and allowing for flight

- Unique bone and muscle structure of the upper body, wider shoulders and a far more built upper torso, to allow for proper attachment and movement of wings!

- Unique eyes, most often black sclera, in some cases entirely black eyes, in some cases possessing a colorful iris, colors ranging between predominantly yellow, red, and orange, with blue and green eyes being slightly less common.

- Most age just ever so slightly faster than Humans, though there are some races of Æris which seem to age slower.

Now, for some more specific world-building and biological details! And to answer the question too! *pushes up glasses*

The Æris are mainly comprised of races with avian traits of the clade Passerea.

However, there is a far higher percentage of all Æris of avian traits from the sub-clade of Passerea, Telluraves, these being birds including hawks, vultures, eagles, owls (Like Ciro!), falcons, and passerines! Passerines themselves are the most common of the Æris races.

The lower percentage of Æris possess mainly avian traits of the sub-clade of Passerea, Ardeae, and other sub-clades, these including Æris of avian traits of birds such as tropicbirds, herons, shorebirds, and swifts!

There do also exist a few very small and local races of Æris with traits outside the clade Passerea, these being Æris of avian traits such as peafowl (duh, obviously I added peacocks 🦚 ✨)!

So, yes! There are tons of different races of Æris, most often differing in wing structure, pigmentation, and other such traits, sometimes in diet and height as well! (A rule of thumb is that the greater the wingspan the taller the Æris to counterbalance it properly, though I have been thinking about adding a part of the wings or a form of tail to them!)

Their evolution and coming into being is a bit of an odd part of history but the theory I have for it is a concrete global genetic anomaly which acted as a sort of catalyst that caused the formation of the varied races from a single joint ancestor, approximately 1.8M years prior, to current day during an epoch of ice, with evolution doing the rest! This is pretty subject to change though but a big part of my world will be the ancient history and all that good origins stuff!

One small thing of note before I get into the whole clothes and daily life stuff too!

Some Æris can learn to ‘fold’ their wings away! That isn’t to say that they simply have them pressed to their back, as most tend to carry them, but that they are able to make them melt into their form and become immaterial! The way weight is distributed and all is odd, but, essentially it can be a bit cramping if it’s kept up for too long so while it’s a good skill to learn through lots of practice and attempts, it’s not something they many who even know how to do it keep up for long. When they’re let loose, think of getting up after being seated in the same pose for a few hours, like getting out of the car in a long drive and stretching, it’s that good stretch feel.

The same is the case for the talons and scales on the hands and feet, though these are in a reverse situation; most Æris don’t know how to bring them forth unless they are in some ways pushed to it or simply learn it, as some Æris races (predominantly those of predator birds) have a higher chance of being able to learn this.

Ciro for one is someone who will eventually be able to do both, folding his wings away to be more manageable at some times, as well as manifesting talons and scales!

As for day to day life! Æris LOVE nests. Not like, actual nests, but Æris beds are most often designed akin to wicker baskets with a sort of curvature to them, along with lots of room to lie down with the wings unfolded, and loose! Æris homes and spaces are usually pretty spacious though the winged folk themselves are characterized by their grace, so knocking something over with their wings is a rarity. It’s more often the wind from them opening that’s a bother, so, paperweights come in handy. Chairs and all usually have no back rest/a low back rest to accommodate, and pouches/harnesses for bags, or satchels are pretty common! Clothes usually consist of pants/loose fitting garments that are flowing but which don’t move around too much, ie are bound at the ankles to stay in place when flying. Some wear tailored shirts with a window in the back and buttons at the back of the neck that close it up, some prefer robes more akin to those worn by buddhist monks, with comfy fabric. Silk, while light, is expensive, and hard to come by, and so linen is a more common fabric of choice, being lightweight.

With a variety of body types, and races, any non-Æris seamster or seamstress who has some practice should be able to fit any clothes they’d need, or cut a window into anything that wouldn’t already be tailored to them!

An Æris’ feather, given willingly, can symbolize a lot of things, depending on their intention, from trust, to love, to respect, to a promise or oath. However, to take a feather without permission, to steal one already given or to even worse, pluck one off of a pair of wings is seen as possibly one of the worst insults one can give. Lots of Æris curses as a result reference plucking or the like!

PHEW, that was FUN. Took me a while, but, I had a chance to think some stuff over and add some detail to some parts I wasn’t quite sure on! Thanks for the opportunity and for the ask, again!!! Hope you enjoyed! ✨✨✨

Taglist! @bloodlessheirbyjacques @athenswrites @magefaery @writingonesdreams ✨

[alistair-phoenix]

Prompt #21: Feckless

[Before Arrival] [Alistair Phoenix: Age 17] “What the hell was that?!” A shout erupted from a hut within a village that lie at the base of a volcano. The sound of wood splintering and furniture being destroyed sounded shortly after. “What was what?” A much softer voice asked, somewhat panicked by sudden destruction of furniture. A few of the scale-covered villagers craned their necks to the sounds of the ensuing argument, wondering what had earned the ire of their most recent champion. They could only imagine what was going on within that stone hut.

“Don't you play dumb with me, Phoenix!” Ardea pointed her claw at the shifty human. “Are you trying to insult me?”

Ardea, daughter of the Salamander Chieftain, was furious. To have become champion in such a manner she felt was disgraceful and unfulfilling. Never in her life had she felt her pride this damaged. Her apprentice had the gall to do something so insulting. “N-no! We would never...” Phoenix paused as he saw Ardea approaching him once more and dodging her attempt to capture him. “Alicia might but-” The poor prince could hardly quell the anger of his mentor. He truly had no idea why Ardea was furious with him after her well earned victory. He thought she would be proud and happy that she became champion. He even heard her father as well as the rest of the Salamanders praising her. So why... Ardea swiped where the fleet-footed Phoenix once stood; her tail thrashed with irritation. “You should have been champion! Yet, you let me win!” Ardea shouted with indignation, a small bit of flames starting to peek out of the corners of her mouth. Her eyes glowed rather fiercely as she continued to stew on her anger. “That is not true, though! We fought you with all we had and you still won, right?” The young adult argued while keeping his guard up. He kept a space between himself and the angry Salamander. “An empty-victory!” Ardea lashed out once more and missing her mark as her apprentice dodged around her attacks. “You could have won! So why didn't you?!” Confusion ran across the human's face at this revelation as he fished for his reasoning or explanation. “We did not want to kill you, Ardea.” He revealed. “So you were holding back!” Ardea's brow furrowed and her tail twitched from her rising anger. “No, we were not.” Phoenix shot back. “Then why didn't you let me fall?!” Ardea raised her voice and her tail slapped the ground. “Why did you go out of your way to pull me back up?!” “Because you would have died, Ardea!” The human raised his voice higher than he had before. “We were not going to let you fall because of some mistake we made! Not again!” The outburst gave Ardea pause but it had also laced her thoughts with uncertainty. “Died?” “You would have fallen into the lava if we dropped you.” Phoenix explained with a small frown on his face. “That is why we pulled you back up.” Ardea blinked at the oblivious human, her fires of anger slowly dying but some of the sparks still remained. “...you thought I was going to die?” She asked her apprentice for clarification. “Yes?” Phoenix replied as though the question should have an obvious answer. Ardea stared at the boy with a perplexing gaze before she took a deep breath and sighed. She ran her claws through her crimson locks. “Alistair... I'm a Salamander?” The young Phoenix raised a brow at Ardea, “Yes...?” Clearly he was not understanding the relevance. Ardea felt her eye twitch a bit. “Lava can't kill us. I would have been fine.” Salamanders were naturally resistant to fire and lava afterall. …

Silence filled the room for a short moment as Alistair processed the last few hours and his actions. “Oh.” Is the only thing that escaped him. After having trained and learned from the Salamanders this small detail escaped his memories for a time. “What do you mean, 'Oh.'?!” Ardea threw up her arms in disbelief. “Don't tell me that you forgot! You can't be that stupid!” “W-we may have...?” Alistair rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit embarrassed now that he remembered. “We knew you were fire-resistant but-” “I don't believe this.” Ardea placed her palm against her forehead. She still felt angry but not as intensely as before this all started. “You risked your life for mine when I wasn't in any danger to begin with. Foolishness. Reckless even. Do you have any idea how badly it could’ve gone?” If anything, she was the one holding back for his sake. Humans and Lava don't necessarily mix well. Fire-resistant magic or not. “...we realize this now. Please accept our apology.” Alistair bowed his head and placed his arm across his chest. Ardea raised her hand and waved the silly human off while placing her fist on her hip. “Forget it. I still can't believe this...” She trailed off before approaching the human in a less threatening manner. “One more thing.” “Yes?” The apprentice raised his head. Ardea swiftly punched Alistair in the shoulder. Feeling that some punishment was necessary. The prince winced at the blow and rubbed his tender shoulder. He was still somewhat sore from the duel with his mentor. “Ow!” “Knock it off with the 'we' nonsense already.” Ardea huffed before leaving her foolish apprentice within the partly destroyed hut. “It’s irritating.” She muttered under her breath. The other Salamanders scattered when they saw Ardea leave the hut and couldn't help but wonder what the damage inside looked like.

[laurelsofhighever]

5 Questions

For The Falcon and the Rose.

@allisondraste tagged me to answer five questions (thank you!!) about a chosen fic, and hey, I’m always down to talk about my mammoth WIP. In return, I’ll tag @naiatabris, @out-of-the-embers, @skyholdherbalist, @adorable-and-getting-better and @thejeeperswife - only if you feel like it, of course!

1) What was the idea that started the story?

Falcon started from a ‘what if’ idea about how the events of DA:O might have been different without the threat of the Fifth Blight to take attention away from the Fereldan civil war. I had just finished a Cousland playthrough and was awed by how much of the story is relevant to them specifically, and I loved the idea of Rosslyn and Alistair meeting and falling in love no matter how their lives led up to their meeting. Really, it’s a story I wanted to read, but one I couldn’t find anywhere, so as I started thinking seriously about it, it gained a lot of influences from the codex entries and WoT, and I got deep into the worldbuilding - maybe too deep. At least half the details in the story started as questions about Ferelden’s culture, and as the plot grew, it influenced how the characters behaved.

2) Did you make an outline? Did you stick to it?

I started with a vague shape in my head that took me several weeks to solidify into a proper plot, and some of the bigger twists didn’t appear until I started writing properly. I’ve stuck to the main points of the plot so far, because I always knew where I wanted it to go. The main change is in the length, because since starting I’ve discovered a lot more plot points that need to be added in, or expanded, or given their own focus. At the start, I thought 60 chapters would be the upper limit for how long it would be, but since then I’ve added a word count document that keeps track of things for me, and as of right now, that original estimate has expanded to 75 chapters, which may or may not include the epilogue. Unsurprisingly, the detailed planning/first draft is nowhere near finished yet.

3) What’s the favourite part of your story?

To be honest, the whole thing has been my obsession for almost three years now (and I still have a way to go before it’s finished). So far, the parts I’ve been most looking forward to writing are the milestones between Alistair and Rosslyn, because I’m sentimental trash and I love my OTP. Their first meeting, every scene where they realise they’re falling a little deeper for each other, their fights and reunions, are all great because as the story goes on I can show how their reactions change as they learn and as they get closer, and it’s super rewarding any time I go back to early chapters and see how far they still have left to go.

I should also give a special shoutout to all the worldbuilding I put into writing new codex entries for some of the chapters. I’m not sure if anyone else reads them, but I love the context you get from the codexes in the games, and as far as homages go they are so fun to write.

4) Who is your favourite character and why?

Is it cheating to say Alistair and Rosslyn? They’re certainly the characters I’ve learned the most about since starting out, and their scenes have so much flow, especially when they’re together. Rosslyn has so much drive and such a strong belief in justice, but her upbringing means she can get a bit detached from the reality most people live, so Alistair works well as a foil because of his more grounded nature. On the other hand, he has a tendency to doubt himself, so Rosslyn’s trust and encouragement really help to grow his confidence. Really, they’re my favourites because I love writing a relationship that has so much mutual respect and I project really hard onto both of them.

Apart from them, there are some honourable mentions: Guard-Commander Gideon became a bigger character than I was expecting, his experience makes a great mirror against Rosslyn’s naivete, especially in the beginning, with his dour, no-nonsense approach. Ardea Tabris as the voice of common sense when everyone else is talking in abstracts, excellent for getting the plot back on track and driving scenes forward. Cailan has been fun too, because the only words we get from him are the overly optimistic glory speeches at the beginning of Origins that are meant to rouse the troops, so he’s been a challenge of trying to balance that idealism with someone who has experience and vulnerability.

5) Did anything happen that surprised you as you were writing?

How long it keeps getting.

The biggest surprises have come with characters who were meant to be throwaways who have turned into recurring names with their own arcs, and have even managed to solve plot problems on occasion. I’m also writing about ten chapters ahead of what I’m posting, so it’s interesting to see the relationship in pacing, and seeing exactly how things are going to pay off in the future. 

[nizynskis]

17 & 20 🖤🖤🖤

Thank you Ardea! beautiful name!!!

17. Ten friends’ luck no contest that’s all I ever wanted

20. already answered 😺

[distant-rose-archive-blog]

A Once And Future Thing (2/7)

Notes: Sorry this took so long! I struggled a bit. It’s been a trying week, ladies and gents. Anyway, it’s up and the next chapter might not be until Monday unfortunately. Anyway, thanks to @welllpthisishappening, @peglegsjones and @cynmoon for being awesome and looking this over! Cheers! Summary: Beth’s quest for vengeance against her boyfriend’s killer goes a bit haywire when she and her former best friend Jim Hawkins are sent into thirty years into the past. Now, they must figure out how to find a way back to the future without wrecking the first meeting between Beth’s parents, Emma Swan and Killian Jones.  Rating: T+ Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Epilogue  Word Count: 5,700+

“So those are your parents?” Jim whispered to her quietly as they trekked behind Mulan.

“Yes,” Beth answered tersely, not wanting to discuss the matter more than she had to.

“That’s your mother in the red? The blonde?”

Jim didn’t seem to understand that she wasn’t in the mood to have this conversation nor how dangerous it was. She didn’t want to think of what would happen if they were overheard. If Beth had felt like losing her balance, she would have attempted to kick him.

“Yes,” Beth bit out.

“And that’s Captain Hook? Your father?”

“I think this has already been established, Jim,” Beth replied through gritted teeth.

“And those two actually get married?” Jim continued as if he hadn’t heard her.

“In three and a half years’ time, yes.”

“And they’re true love?”

If her hands hadn’t been bound, she would have thrown them up in defeat. She honestly didn’t understand why he felt the need to reiterate all of this.

“Yes,” Beth sighed in defeat. “Confirmed multiple times over the course of the thirty years, some in grizzly and disgusting ways. Or else I wouldn’t be magical or some shit.”

“And they actually produced four children? Really? Them?”

“Seriously what is the point of this line of questioning? You already know all of this!” Beth hissed.

“Huh.” After all of his questioning, his grunt was a bit anticlimactic.

Beth gave him a sour look.

“Huh? That’s all you can say? Huh?”

“Well, yeah, it’s kinda hard to believe, but I can see it. I mean you look startlingly like your mother but with your father’s coloring and a bit thinner and a bit taller. I mean, the hair difference kinda throws it off and perhaps the cosmetics too, but I’m surprised they aren’t at least somewhat suspicious. The name that you threw up there doesn’t help matters. Emma Swan? Elizabeth Swann? Not your finest hour, love.”

“Fuck you, Jim,” Beth replied, but it sounded more tired than pissed off.

Jim chuckled ruefully and this time they were overheard by Mulan who looked back at them to give them a dirty look.

“What’s so funny?” She asked, narrowing her eyes at them.

“Nothing,” Jim replied smoothly. “Just passing the time with a few light jokes, which my partner here doesn’t seem to appreciate.”

“That’s because you can’t tell a joke to save your life,” Beth replied dryly.

“Let’s keep the jokes to a minimum then,” Mulan replied unimpressed.

A silence fell between them as they kept hiking through the woods. It was a hassle to walk with her hands tied in front of her and Beth was almost embarrassed by the amount of times she nearly fell. She was used to walking across decks during the rockiest of seas and during harsh squalls, yet being pulled by her hands had her veering every which way like a drunk monkey.

She glanced over at Jim to see how he was faring and she was surprised to see that his shoulders were shaking in silent laughter. He looked horribly amused more than anything. Beth stared at him in disbelief.

“What the fuck is so funny?” she hissed quietly, not wanting to catch Mulan’s attention again.

“I’ve imagined meeting your parents a thousand ways, love, but this…I never could have foreseen this.”

Beth blinked.

“You imagined meeting my parents?” she asked in disbelief.

Jim’s amusement immediately faded away and was replaced by an expression that Beth could only describe as extremely hurt.

“We’ve been friends for nearly three years, Kid, I would assume that would warrant at least meeting your parents at some point. I mean, you’ve met mine,” he replied with a small shrug.

“I’ve met Long John Silver,” Beth corrected, eyes cutting to his.

“And he’s the closest thing I have to a parent,” Jim responded automatically. “I certainly don’t remember Leland Hawkins, he died before I left the cradle. My mother died when I was at sea the first time with Silver when I was thirteen, so yeah, you’ve met my only living parent. I figured you would do the same courtesy since Will met them and all. I’ve known you longer than Will did.”

“Will was different though,” Beth said quietly.

“As in you were planning on settling down and having 2.5 kids with Will,” Jim concluded. “I didn’t realize that you had your sights set on being a queen. I never pegged you as one for domesticity.”

Beth stopped in her tracks, completely shocked by his words. They cut through her as sharp as any knife and they hurt more than she ever imagined, especially coming from Jim who had always been her pillar even when she never asked him to be. Her halt in movement was ill conceived however because she was almost immediately dragged forward by Mulan and sent crashing face first into the dirt. Beth coughed as she unwillingly ate grass, glaring up at Jim.

“What is your problem?” Mulan hissed, turning around.

“I tripped on a root,” Beth lied smoothly. “It’s hard to balance when your hands are in front of you.”

Mulan picked her up roughly, but made no move to help her aside from that. She merely gave Beth a cold look before she turned back to keep up pace with Aurora, Emma and Snow White.

“Next time, watch where you’re stepping,” she called over her shoulder.

“Beth…” Jim looked at her in concern.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” Beth replied, not looking at him. “You had no right to say that.”

“That doesn’t make it any less true,” Jim muttered under his breath and Beth was almost certain he hadn’t intended for her to hear that.

Silence fell between them and Beth took this time to study the man and woman ahead them who would someday be her parents. It was strange seeing them so young and so distant from one another. Beth knew logically that the Emma Swan and the Killian Jones of this timeframe were nothing more than strangers, but her heart ached. They were always a united front all of her life; there wasn’t a damn thing that they didn’t tackle together even if they disagreed. And if they weren’t united in action, more often than not, they were always in each other’s space. Beth couldn’t picture her parents without them touching each other in some shape or form; her mother had a habit of running her fingers against the shorthairs on his neck or rubbing her thumbs against his collarbone. Her father, on the other hand, had always favored tangling his wife’s hair between his fingers or playing with her hands. Even when they sat together, they touched; Beth’s mother enjoyed placing her feet in her father’s lap on the couch or hooking her leg around his at the dinner table. This Emma of this era was not nearly so tactile, trying to keep a large distance between her and Hook.

These people weren’t her parents. They would be someday, but right now, they were little more than strangers wearing their faces. The more Beth realized this, the more she wanted to leave.

“I don’t understand this…” she murmured aloud without thinking.

“What don’t you understand?” Jim asked quietly.

“Why would she send us here? To this time period? I don’t get it. It’s not like she’s a fucking Weeping Angel or something,” Beth muttered as a piece of rebellious hair fell in her face. She glared at it and wished nothing more than to be able to tuck it behind her ear but with her hands tied up, she had to resort to blowing at it like a toddler.

Jim was silent for a moment and Beth was almost surprised by it. Normally he liked to have an answer for everything, which was sometimes good and sometimes bad. It was almost fun to pick his brain because it seemed to work on a different wavelength than hers, but at the same time, he could be a horrible know-it-all.

“I have no bleeding idea what a Weeping Angel is, but I think her plan is self-annihilation…or at least that’s my best guess,” Jim said after a few minutes passed.

“What?”

“Self-annihilation. I’m assuming she sent you here because she knows you’re a goddamn bull in a tea shop and she expects you to wipe out your own existence, which is still a high possibility. One wrong move and that epic ass love story between your parents goes up in smoke. You die by your own hand, wipe yourself from existence and Ardeas lives.”

Beth closed her eyes, sighing heavily. Ardeas was the entire reason she was in the mess she was in. He had tried to assault her in order to get her cache of magic beans and she had responded by chaining him to a rock and dropping him at the bottom of the ocean while he screamed that he was immortal and she would regret this decision. Ardeas was not immortal, but she did come to regret the decision when his mother Circe had taken issue with her son’s death and had made it her mission to make Beth miserable. Considering that Will was dead and she was stuck thirty years in the past, it was fair to say that Circe was succeeding.

“It’s always what it comes down to isn’t it? That I killed him,” Beth responded, licking her chapped lips.

“Pretty much,” Jim said bluntly.

“I suppose that you think I was wrong to do that…” It wouldn’t surprise her if Jim had disagreed with the decision, though he had never made his opinion on it plain before.

“Out of all the idiotic decisions you’ve made in your life, it’s the one I judge the least. He got what he deserved. What you did was justice,” Jim murmured softly.

“And what I’m doing now isn’t?” Beth asked in clarification, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope,” Jim responded simply.

“Nope? That’s all you’re going to say? Just nope? No grand lecture on how you’re right and I’m wrong?” Beth questioned.

“It’s not my job to teach you ethics, Elizabeth,” Jim said impatiently. There was a lot of frustration in his tone and it made Beth bristle. He made her feel like a naughty school child sometimes.

“No, it’s not,” she agreed with some of her own frustration. “You’re not my fucking father.”

Jim made a strangled noise.

“The day that sentence ever comes true in any proverbial or literal form, I would kill myself.”

Beth tried to not to be offended by that.

“Better to kill yourself than to have a daughter like me?”

Jim blinked rapidly and shook his head in disbelief.

“Something like that.”

Another silence fell between them, this one more uncomfortable than the last. Every part of Beth wanted to scream, yell and cry a bit, but she could not. Such an outburst would do nothing for her. She needed to stay calm. She needed to be like Jim; calm, cool, collected and planning each move like she was playing mental chess. Beth hated chess. She had no patience for it. Maybe that was the problem.

“You said that we are at the beanstalk, what did you mean by that?” Jim said quietly, breaking the silence once more.

“Like I said this is my parents’ first meeting,” Beth replied tersely. “Their first adventure was them climbing the beanstalk to get a golden compass.”

“Beth, I need to know more than that. We need to know more than that. We need to keep the original events as intact as possible if we’re going to survive this. You know that, right?”

Beth made a low noise in the back of her throat.

“Of course, I know that. I’m not a fucking moron, so stop treating me like one,” she snapped.

“I know you’re not a moron. Stop getting so offended all the time,” Jim replied tiredly. “In fact, you’re clever as hell when you want to be, but you’re impulsive and this is emotional for you. You’re thinking with your heart and not with your head. We need your head right now. So, what do you know about the beanstalk?”

“All I know is that Mom and Grandma Snow were trying to go back to Storybrooke because they landed here by accident, much like I did three years ago. Anyway, Dad met Mom, Mom didn’t trust Dad but he knew how to get to them back home with a golden compass at the top of a bean stalk. So, despite their differences, they climbed the beanstalk together and got the compass then Mom and Grandma Snow were able to go home. Dad ended up in Storybrooke somehow, but not with them. I don’t really remember. It was their go-to story whenever I had to do a school project with someone I didn’t like.”

“That’s…not entirely helpful,” Jim sighed.

“Well, that’s all I got for you. Sorry,” Beth muttered under her breath.

“I know, I know, it’s just…” Jim let out a small huff.

Beth knew just by the look on his face that if his hands hadn’t been tied in front of him that they would be running through his sandy brown hair. He had a tendency to do that when he was anxious and right now, Jim Hawkins was more than a little anxious.

“It’s just we’re screwed,” Beth finished for him with a sigh of her own.

“You said it, not me,” Jim replied quickly.

“You didn’t have to say it, you were practically telegraphing it. I know your faces, J. I know that you’re privately thinking we’re fucked whenever you scrunch your eyebrows together like that,” Beth sighed.

“Scrunch my eyebrows together?” Jim asked, looking bewildered. “I didn’t realize I did that.”

“Well, you do,” Beth replied. “Like this.”

She furrowed her brows together purposely and set her lips into a deep frown, copying his expression. Jim’s eyebrows rose as he studied her and his mouth opened, making him look like a gaping fish.

“I do not look like that,” he said with a shake of his head.

“You totally do,” Beth responded, trying to keep from snickering.

“If you two don’t shut up soon, we’re going to separate you,” Mulan called from in front of them, rearing back to glare at them.

“I feel like I’m in grade school again,” Beth muttered under her breath.

“They bound you and dragged you in grade school?” Jim asked in disbelief.

“No, but me and my friend Sylvie were constantly being yelled at to shut up,” Beth replied with a small chuckle.

“Ah. That I can believe,” Jim grinned. “You are a bit on the loquacious side, love.”

“Are you calling me a Chatty Kathy, Hawkins?” Beth asked in amusement.

“A chatty what?” He looked confused.

“That’s it!” Mulan fumed, stopping and turning around. She jerked the rope, causing both Beth and Jim to stumble a bit. “Emma! Snow! Stop, we’re doing a prisoner switch because these two can’t stop plotting together.”

“We weren’t plotting,” Beth responded with a roll of her eyes. “Believe me, neither of us can plot to save our lives. Our battle plans last like two seconds. We’re more the make-it-up-as-we-go-along type.”

“I honestly don’t care, you’re just annoying me,” Mulan responded with her own eye roll. “You’re definitely going up front. You’ve got a mouth on you and I don’t appreciate it.”

“Really?” Beth smirked. “Most people do.”

Jim groaned beside her.

“You really couldn’t keep that one to yourself, could you?” he asked with a shake of his head.

“You know me too well,” Beth replied cheekily.

“I’m so not dealing with this anymore,” Mulan growls before shoving her rope at Emma. “You deal with her.”

“You’re seriously making me deal with Captain Flirt and Little Miss Flirt as a collective?” Emma groaned. “They’re just going to be flirting the entire time and it’s going to be gross.”

“Trust me, you don’t have to worry about that with him,” Beth muttered under her breath.

“You wound me, Black Swan,” Hook grinned, leering at her.

“Black Swan? Where the fuck did you get Black Swan?” Beth asked with a raise of her eyebrows.

“Well, you’re a Swan and she’s a Swan,” Hook said, tilting his head towards Emma. “She’s the Gold Swan because of her gorgeous blonde locks and you’re the Black Swan because of your own beautiful black hair. Being between the two of you lovelies…well, that’s just every man’s fantasy.”

Beth pulled a face and looked to Jim for support, but found her companion was biting his lip to keep from busting a gut. She glared at him. Nothing about this situation was funny. It was gross; so gross that not even Game of Thrones would touch it. Or maybe they would. The jury was still out on that one.

“If you let me out of this bind, I will beat him for you,” Beth remarked to Emma with pursed lips.

“Tempting, but no,” Emma remarked. “We need him. You, on the other hand, are expendable so I would be on my best behavior.”

Beth sighed. She had the strong urge to scream again.

“Don’t worry, love, I’ll wear you down, both you and the other gorgeous Swan,” Hook smirked.

“Keep dreaming,” Beth bit with a roll of her eyes.

“Now that’s something you don’t have worry about,” Hook winked.

Beth blanched, but said nothing. She didn’t want to add any more fuel to the fire. She couldn’t help but wonder how her father would react to see his younger self acting so aggressively flirtatious with his own daughter; knowing him, he would probably be mortified and run himself through with his sword.

They moved forward again, this time with Beth walking next to Hook instead of Jim. She tried not to look at him, but she couldn’t help herself. It was so strange to see him look so young. Her father had always been a handsome man, but as long as Beth could remember her father had silver hair, noticeable laugh lines and crow’s feet. Her father was a man that smiled with both his lips and his eyes and was full of warmth.

This man smirked but his eyes had a hardness to them that Beth had never experienced before. It made her feel cold. On top of that, she felt more like she was staring at shorter and skinnier version of her brother than her father. She always knew that Harrison had an eerie resemblance to him, but she never really saw it until now. Though Harrison was not one for leather nor did he swagger, not like Hook. It was just a strange experience.

“You said you were a pirate,” Hook said after a moment.

“I am,” Beth confirmed, trying to keep her answers short.

He snorted in disbelief. Beth nearly gaped at the sound.

“You don’t believe me?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

Hook smirked at him, his eyes slowly taking in her form. It made her skin crawl. No father should look at their daughter like that. Ever.

“Well, you look the part, but there’s more to it than that,” Hook replied, licking his lips. “I think you believe you’re a pirate, but you strike me as more as some rich noble’s spoiled daughter who is rebelling against Daddy in hopes he’ll pay attention to you.”

Beth’s nostrils flared.

“Is that what you think?” she asked tightly.

“You’re too well-bred and too demanding to be anything else, love,” he smirked.

“You think I’m well-bred? My mother would heartily disagree with you,” Beth replied tersely. “And too demanding? You wouldn’t say that if I was a man.”

“If you were a man, I would say you’re an ass,” Hook replied. “Take it as a compliment, love. I like demanding women. They know what they want and they don’t keep you guessing.”

“If my hands weren’t bound, I would run you through,” Beth responded. “You know nothing.”

“No,” he agreed. “Not yet, but I’ll learn. You wear your emotions on your sleeve. Makes you a bit of an open book.”

Beth nearly stopped at his words.

“Fuck you,” she spat.

“I’m delighted with the offer, love, but a man likes to be wooed,” Hook responded easily.

She made a noise of frustration. Beth honestly couldn’t believe how much of an asshole he was. She couldn’t believe this infuriating man would someday be her father; the man who was patient and taught her how to fight, tucked her in at night with a gentle kiss and sometimes even braided her hair. She saw nothing of that man in this one. It made her heart sink more into her chest.

“Given up already, love?” Hook taunted. “That doesn’t seem like you.”

“You don’t know me,” Beth replied snappishly.

“I’m starting to. Like I said, open book,” Hook replied easily. “Shall I prove it?”

“Something tells me that you’re going to anyway,” she replied dryly.

“Quite right,” he grinned. “Like I said, you’re wealthy. Lived well. Well-bred and used to people following your orders. You like being in charge, but you also crave danger. Hence the interest in piracy and your current…risky business. Though you’ve got some steel to you. You’re not a fragile flower or you would be complaining about the rope burns by now.”

Beth couldn’t help but chuckle a bit.

“What’s so funny?” Hook asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Steel,” she mused aloud without much thinking. “Dad says that too. He says that I was born with stars in my eyes, steel in my bones and the sea in my veins.”

“I’m guessing dear sweet Daddy is a merchant sailor?”

Beth couldn’t help it; she laughed heartily at that, amusement dancing in her eyes. Merchant sailor? Beth couldn’t imagine the man in front of her nor her father being happy with that descriptor.

“No. Not at all,” Beth snickered. “My old man was a pirate. My mother could be considered noble though, I guess. But my old man would be insulted to be called that.”

Her own mother would have been insulted by the descriptor as well, but regardless of how she felt about, Emma Swan was technically a noble considering she was born a princess.

“Hence the desire for piracy, then. I was right, a Daddy’s Girl. A pirate absconding himself a noble lady. He must be the quite the legend,” Hook mused.

“He is in his own mind,” Beth snorted.

“Your father suffers from delusions of grandeur?”

“Some would say so…” she snickered, licking her own chapped lips as she smirked.

“As entertaining as this conversation has been,” Emma said dryly, turning back to look at him. “I need Hook.”

“I knew you would warm up to me, love,” Hook smirked, arching a rakish eyebrow. “How do you want me?”

Beth was used to her father flirting with her mother. Normally she gave as good as she got and her younger brother Neddy would pretend to gag, causing them all to laugh. However, this Emma Swan was unmoved and unimpressed. She didn’t smile, just huffed in impatience.

“Cut the crap,” Emma said shortly. “Are we going in the right direction or not? How far are we from the compass?”

“We’re going in the right direction, so don’t you worry, love,” Hook replied easily. “We are just a few hours walk.”

“A few hours walk,” Emma repeats. “How much are we talking?”

“Judging by our pace, another five or six hours, give or take,” he said with a small frown.

“Five or six hours? How the hell do you know where we’re going then!” Emma demanded, looking more and more irritated.

“Don’t insult me, Swan,” Hook replied with a scoff. “I’m a seafaring man. I know my sense of direction. The compass is north. And north is that way!”

Hook pointed in the direction in front of them with his bound hands.

“And how do you know that?” Emma hissed. “It’s not like you have a GPS.”

“GPS?” Hook looked bewildered.

“He knows because every moron knows that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west,” Beth replied with a roll of her eyes. She gestured towards the sky with her head. “It’s late and the sun is in that direction. That’s west. He’s right, we’re going north.”

“I didn’t ask you,” Emma snapped.

“No, but that’s the answer nonetheless,” Beth replied with a snort.

“We should make camp here for the night…” Snow White said, breaking the tension between the three of them. “Sun is setting in maybe an hour or so. Walking in the dark is a bad idea. Best to continue this tomorrow.”

“Here? Really?” Emma asked, raising her eyebrow at her mother.

“Why not?” Snow White replied with a shrug. “I mean, it’s not the best place to camp but it’s also not the worst.”

Emma let out a heavy sigh before handing the ropes off to Snow White and pulling out her sword. She paused only to give Hook and Beth a dirty look.

“Watch them, I’ll make sure the area is secure and we haven’t been followed,” Emma commanded, scanning their surroundings and pressing her sword through the bushes.

“You think Cora’s following us?” Snow White questioned.

“Possibly. Probably not, but you never know, maybe Will Turner is,” Emma replied almost jokingly.

Beth stiffened at her words; her heart aching in her chest. She was a fucking idiot. She should have chosen a different name. She hadn’t been thinking about the Elizabeth Swann and Will Turner romance when she had made the Keira Knightly character her chosen alias. It had been in oversight of epic proportions.  

Emma immediately noticed her reaction and her joking demeanor grew more serious.

“So there’s a Will Turner then.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

At one point in Beth’s life, she had an excellent poker face. However, it appeared that was no longer the case. Another unwelcome change in her life since Will’s passing.

“Will Turner?” Snow White questioned, brows furrowed.

“Will Turner,” Emma repeated, and it felt like another knife to Beth’s gut. “The epic trio slash love triangle of Jack Sparrow, Elizabeth Swann and Will Turner in the movies. I wasn’t certain there was one, but her face says it all.”

Beth closed her eyes. She didn’t them open to know that Emma was gesturing to her. She swallowed sharply. If her skin felt like it had been crawling when Hook had looked at her, it now felt like it was running off her bones.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Emma asked, nudging Beth’s shoulder with her blade.

“He’s not here,” Beth said roughly.

“I find that hard to believe,” Emma snorted. “If your relationship is anything like the movies, he wouldn’t let you out of his sight.”

“That was true once upon a time,” Beth replied, biting her lip and opening her eyes. She stared her would-be mother in the eye. “But that’s no longer possible.”

“Why?” Emma asked, her voice demanding.

“Because he’s dead,” Beth snapped. Despite trying to keep her composure, all the anger and all the pain came out.

The eye contact between them was long and uncomfortable especially when Beth wanted nothing more than to scream. Whatever Emma saw in her, Beth didn’t know, but she gave her a quiet stiff nod. She put her sword back in its sheath.

Out of the corner of her eye, Beth could see Hook looking at her strangely. She straightened her back, making a point not to look at him or anyone. She couldn’t handle it right now. She felt like a livewire, vulnerable and raw.

“If we’re going to stay here tonight, we’re going to need to secure them,” Emma said, gesturing to Hook, Beth and Jim. “Tie them to the tree or something.”

“I’ll take care of them,” Mulan said, jerking Jim forward with his rope. “I’ll secure him. Then the girl and then Hook, if Snow will assist.”

“I have no problem with that,” Snow White replied, looking at Beth and Hook out of the corner of her eye distastefully.

Beth was used to her grandmother looking at her in disappointment or exasperation. They never really clicked. Snow’s idea of bonding was shopping for frilly dresses, having heartfelt conversations and talking about how to style Beth’s hair. Beth preferred talking about sword techniques, trying to climb up trees one-handed and out drinking her “cousins.” They loved each other, they just weren’t close. In all of Beth’s years, her grandmother had never looked at her like she was something distasteful like she was right now. It made her feel even more hollow.

“What can I do?” Aurora asked.

“Sit and be quiet,” Emma replied with little patience.

“But I want to help!” Aurora insisted and the whiny tone in her voice gritted on Beth’s nerves.

“Then collect firewood,” Snow White said in a cool and patient tone.

“Just collect firewood?” Aurora asked, slightly offended with being given such a menial task.

“Aurora, just do it,” Emma snapped.

“Don’t talk to her like that!” Mulan hissed at Emma, eyes flashing.

“We don’t have time to coddle her. We need to get settled so we get moving quicker. I want that compass and to get back to my son. Nothing else. I’m not here to play nice,” Emma replied, narrowing her eyes at Mulan.

“How much do you want to bet that we could take the lot of them, love?” Hook’s voice murmured in Beth’s ear.

Beth nearly jumped out of her skin. She didn’t realize he was that close to her. It was unnerving that he had managed to get this far into her personal space without her notice. For the time during this entire insane experience, she felt genuinely wary of him.

“It’s three trained swords against one trained sword, a bowman and two unskilled women is good odds,” she muttered back. “But I’m not staging a break away. That’s not my game here.”

“We don’t need the navy man, love,” Hook whispered. “Just you and me. The princess is more of a burden than help to them. The brunette seems feisty but soft. The other Swan, while gorgeous, isn’t familiar with a sword as you cleverly pointed out earlier. The warrior is the tricky one, but we could manage.”

“In a hypothetical situation, sure,” she responded. “I’m not leaving him. I can’t leave him. He wouldn’t leave me. Not now. Not ever. Even though he should. And I’m not doing this. So, forget it.”

“What if I told you I could bring you to a treasure unlike your wildest dreams? A true giant’s horde, we’re talking. I think we could make quite the team, love. I think you’d find me a better and more exciting companion that big, tall and boring back there. What do you say?” he replied, stepping closer into her space.

Beth took a step back, glaring at him.

“I would say that you have no idea just how big my wildest dreams are,” she said firmly. “And no. It’s not happening, Hook. Besides, I thought you didn’t think I was a real pirate. What did you call me? A rich noble’s daughter rebelling against her father in hopes he would look at her?”

“I misjudged you,” Hook admitted.

“You could be misjudging me now,” she responded, turning away to watch Mulan tie up Jim. He wasn’t focused on his captor at all, but watching Beth and Hook warily.

“No…I don’t think so. Just answer me this…How did he die? Your Will?”

Beth sucked on her teeth at the question. If her hands hadn’t been tied, she would have punched him.

“Swann? How did he die?” Hook asked again, more insisted.

Beth let in a heavy breath, debating in her head whether or not she should answer him. His bound hands nudged at her side. He wouldn’t let himself be ignored. She hated him for it, but it was typical of her father. He refused to let her be if he knew she was upset. This man wasn’t her father though, not yet.

“He was killed. A spell meant for me killed him,” she monotonously.

“His killer?”

“She breathes…for now,” she whispered.

“You don’t want treasure. You want revenge,” Hook said softly, looking at her with sudden understanding. She wanted to hit him even more for it.

“I want justice,” she said firmly.

“Sometimes they’re the same thing, love.”

Beth didn’t get a chance to respond as Mulan somehow materialized at her side and jerked her towards a tree adjacent from where Jim was situated. She winced slightly as she was pushed roughly against the tree.

“You think you would be a bit more thoughtful considering that we willingly surrendered,” Beth muttered under her breath.

“Maybe, but I don’t like you,” Mulan responded easily.

Beth rolled her eyes, but said nothing. She watched as Aurora carelessly tossed sticks into the middle of the camp. She nearly snorted. It reminded her of the time they went camping and Neddy pouted constantly at being handed small tasks because he wasn’t as “big” as the rest of them. The thought of Neddy made her heart yearn for home, her real home. She wanted her mother to run her fingers through her hair and unknot the tangles. She wanted her father to cuddle her and whisper a story that she had heard a million times before. She wanted Harrison playing his guitar and singing to her something off a Jimi Hendrix album and Wes to crack a snarky joke while Neddy placed a whoopee cushion under someone’s chair.

Most of all she wanted Will and his radiant smile; the one that took up his entire face and made the corners of his eyes crinkle. She wanted to hear the laugh of pure joy he made that one time after they swam in the ocean naked during a warm afternoon on his family’s private beach. She wanted his kisses that were like a rip tide; taking you by surprise and pulling you in before you even had the chance to comprehend how it happened. But Will was gone and he wasn’t coming back.

And if she didn’t think fast, she wouldn’t get back to her family. Her real family. Not these people who were, but weren’t because those events hadn’t happened to them yet.

“Beth…” Jim called softly. “Are you okay?”

And for the first time in six months, Beth answered that question honestly. Whether it was because it was Jim, who had always been her rock and seen her at her lowest, asked or if she answered without truly thinking about it for once, she didn’t know. However, there something both liberating and almost physically painful about it.

“No. I’m not.”

[mistfallengw2]

2, 8 and 17 for Aurelia combat asks? (or anyone more appropriate)

@violentnornography

GW2 OC Questions: Combat Edition ⚔️✨

2 got answered here

-

8. Do they have any visible scarring or lasting injuries from previous combat experiences? How did they get them? How do they feel about them?

Her pre-Mists scars were few and barely evident, as her late mate always took great care of her wounds since they were cubs, to the point she kept treating any visible scar until fur could grow back on it. She wouldn't have minded sporting cool scars like most of the warband did, but Ardea considered any of those as her own failure to keep her bandmates safe, so Aurelia allowed her to do her thing at least on her.

Her revenant powers came with particularly strong self-healing abilities, to the point what was barely visible beforehand was completely cured and gone in a matter of minutes after receiving Glint's facet. With everything Aurelia went through in the Mists, that power lessened a bunch, but it still kept her free of scars (even bad wounds would scar within hours/days, and the subsequent scar would be gone within a week/month).

The only thing that can scar her permanently is strong magic that does enough damage to overcome her self-healing powers, like Balthazar's or the one Eir's longbow was enchanted with. The first left visible scarring on her chest after she was impaled by his sword (she survived due to the facet getting shattered and flooding her with magic, which kept her alive while the self-healing went into overdrive to attempt fixing that disaster, but his fire killed her first) and even being revived couldn't fully undo the damage, while Bangar's arrow kept burning from within (it was powerful enough to hurt the ice dragon, so her enchanted armor was no match, let alone her flesh) and it quickly depleted her magic as it tried to continuously undo and contain the damage, making the Scrying Pool necessary to save her. Aurelia doesn't particularly like to show those scars, but at least she's gotten less self-conscious about them over the years.

Though not a scar, she only has one of her horns left intact. One of the lower ones broke off when she was flung away by the explosion caused by Kralkatorrik's attack that killed Aurene, and she later had both filed down for comfort (later wears some accessories made by Adamas with Aurene's crystals), while the left upper one snapped in half during the airship crash in Cantha (missing half later replaced with Aurene's magic). While she's not happy about them being broken, she likes having something of Aurene with her at all times.

-

18. Can they handle themselves in a fight without using weapons? And without using magic? What would they do if they were in a fight and disarmed/unable to use magic?

Back before her Mists misadventures, when she didn't have any magic, Aurelia was not someone who'd ever back away from a fight. Being as strong and big (if not bigger) than most male charr is an advantage she never avoided using, often charging into enemies using just her armor's spikes as "weapons" and even occasionally picking up smaller foes to throw or hit others with, regardless of whether she was actually disarmed or not. Back then, drunken brawls were one of her favorite off-duty activities, and a norn friend of Daunte once claimed she was a bar brawler worthy of legends and that he was lucky to have always had her on his side.

That said, while those skills came in handy when her magic was unreliable for the first few years of having it, now she doesn't look for occasions to fight like that anymore. If she was in a real fight with no access to magic or weapons, she'd fight only if she had a reason to, otherwise she'd try to escape or deescalate.

[inkjackets]

Serenity

This is a thing I did for Ninette week Day 1: Serenity, apologies for the lateness. The characters are slightly aged up in this one, in their final year of school. Also sorry, it got a little angstyer than planned... but the serenity is there!

Summary: Nino is feeling the pressure of exams, but Marinette is there to make him feel better.

Nino felt sick and tired.

He sighed and shoved his face in his hands in a futile effort do dispel at least some of the tension in his body.

He felt sick.

He tried to ignore the mountain of books piled around him and tried instead to focus on the single paper in front of him.

He felt tired.

He gazed down senselessly.

He felt so sick and so tired.

 Nino felt numb. He'd been sitting in the same position in the same place in the library for what felt like an eternity. 

He glanced at the clock. Only ten minutes had passed. 

He glanced at his friends. Their blonde, red and black heads alike were all bent over the table, scribbling away on some past papers. There was a dull ache at the back of his head, even his headphones were against him now. He guessed wearing them non-stop for days on end really wasn't healthy. Reluctantly he took them off and was greeted with the aggravating noises of a jam-packed library. The scratching of pens, flipping of paper, tapping on keyboards, sniffing, coughing...ugh! He hated it! It was so stifling. Not just the atmosphere, but the air as well was suffocating. The clammy heat coming off all the bodies crammed into the space paired with the hot muggy summer air drifting through the windows was downright oppressive.

Nino heaved a sigh. He looked down at all the papers scattered across his desk: revision notes, past papers, mark schemes. Marinette, Alya and Adrien had all helped him prepare everything he could possibly need to revise for his Baccalauréat exams, including timetables and revision folders. He was grateful, no mistaking that, however rather than making him feel organised, he just felt swamped. It was all just so overwhelming.

Nino didn't know if he could do this.

He took another deep breath and read the next question on his paper:

The name of the great egret has recently been changed from Casmerodius albus to Ardea alba. 

Nino's brow furrowed.

What is a possible reason for the reclassification of egrets?

He frowned.

A. Allopatric speciation

Nino felt a lump rise in his throat.

B. Discovery of different ancestry

No, he knew this dammit!

C. A change in the mating behaviours

He swallowed.

D. Change in habitat and geographic range

He  put his head in his hands.

It was no good, he could feel the tears pricking behind his eyes as the frustration and helplessness built up inside him. He wasn't made for studying, he was a musician! What gave school the right to put him through this hell? He didn't want maths, he didn't need science, he didn't give a damn about speaking English! Counting rhythms were the only numbers he needed, connecting his music with an audience was the only chemistry he needed, melodies and harmonies were the only words he needed! 

He grit his teeth to prevent a cry of frustration escaping his lips.

He frantically wiped away the wetness in his eyes and inhaled deeply in an attempt to calm himself. He felt a pair of eyes on him and looked up to see a bright blue pair, brimming with concern, looking back at him.

“Nino,” Marinette said softly

“I’m fine,” Nino said a little too quickly, he tore his eyes away from her, gripped his pen and bent over his paper as if to start writing.

 What is a possible reason for the reclassification of egrets?

 His pen hovered above the paper, he willed himself to think of the answer, to circle something. He knew this, he knew he knew this. Damn what was it! He felt tears of frustration prick the back of his eyes once more. 

Crap. 

He couldn't do this.

He drew a sharp breath as someone touched his arm. He looked at the dainty but sturdy fingers touching his wrist. He followed them to a wiry but strong arm, up to her shoulder covered in her usual black jacket, past her pale neck, her red lips, and her cute button nose, before finally landing on those blue eyes. Those piercing blue eyes that saw right into the depths of his very soul. He knew she could see everything he was feeling, there was no point in hiding it.

"I can't do this, Marinette," Nino said, his voice cracking despite the whisper, "I'm not made to do this."

Marinette smiled sadly, "I know." 

Nino bit his lip. 

"You and I, we're artists," Marinette said, "We aren't naturally academic like Alya, we aren't studious like Adrien."

Nino felt Adrien and Alya both stiffen beside him.

“Some people thrive in conditions like this,” Marinette continued, “pushed to their mental limits, to see how far they can go. But for people like us? It’s stifling.”

Nino nodded, "It's so hard, Marinette, I can't."

“But you must,” she said sternly.

“What?” he was a little taken aback at her change in tone.

"We both must persevere. After all, the road to success is filled with many obstacles." 

"But...but," Nino floundered, "at the end of the day, all this work we've done just ends up being a bunch of numbers on a scrap of paper, that’s our future! Doesn’t that infuriate you?”

“Yes, of course it does, but it is what it is.” Marinette’s expression changed to one of grudging acceptance, “Maybe one day we can change the system, but today isn’t that day. Today we stick our heads down and we deal with it.”

Nino felt the lump rise in his throat once more as negative thoughts of incompetence and suffocating pressure rushed round his head.

Marinette reached across the scattered books and took his hand, encompassing it in both her own. She held his hand like you would a butterfly, gentle enough to not harm it, but firm enough to prevent it flying away. The warmth from her skin passed into Nino's, up his arms and straight into his frantic heart, willing it to calm. Nino stared at her, at her eyes filled with love and concern. Her hands warmed his body, but her eyes warmed his soul.

Slowly she lifted his hand to her lips and gently kissed it, “I believe in you, Nino,” she whispered, her voice like a soft beam of sunlight lighting up the path previously obscured in darkness.

A blush slowly rose on Nino’s cheeks, “Marinette,” he hissed, but his voice thrummed with pleasure.

Marinette giggled, “What, ashamed of me, are we?” she shifted his hand so she could clasp it in hers.

He blushed even harder as he sharply shook his head, glancing at Adrien and Alya as he did so, but they were both very busy pretending to be working and not at all smirking into their practice papers. He closed his fingers around her hand, entwining them together.

“I could never be ashamed of you,” he said quietly.

Marinette smiled a smile that lifted the weight from his shoulders and made the stress dissipate. He was starting to remember what it felt like to be relaxed, however, he faltered when he saw a flash of deviousness behind Marinette's innocent eyes. Before he knew it, Marinette had stood up, leant across the table, and pressed her mouth firmly to his. Nino had barely registered what had happened before Marinette pulled back and plonked herself back into her seat, a smug smile spreading across her face, despite the blush forming.

Nino stared at her, mouth agape. He watched Marinette's cheeks bloom into the brightest red. She grabbed a book and hid behind it so that only her eyes showed, but Nino could still a tinge of redness in her skin and the grin in her eyes. He felt giddiness and happiness thrum through him. What she had just done, her uncharacteristically audacious behaviour, her self-satisfied expression... 

Nino felt himself break free from the shackles of stress that had been forcing him down.

Looking at Marinette like that, he knew that everything was going to be alright.

  Bonus:

"Get a room, guys," Alya said, not breaking to look up from her paper. 

There was silence.

Adrien snorted.

Marinette giggled.

Nino couldn't help but let a grin spread across his face.

Alya looked up with a devilish smirk.

They all burst into laughter.

I hope you liked it! can you tell im stressed

[olimpias]

13, 14 and 29 for Nicoletti! <3333

THANK YOU YES MY FAVOURITE REVOLUTIONARY!!

13. What is your oc’s confidence like? Are they self-confident to the point of being arrogant? Are they terribly self-deprecating?

Definitely the first. Well, he has some hidden insecurities ofc and how it usually goes but he is the most self-righteous, most complacent little bitch you will ever encounter. He can and will bully you if he doesn’t like you. So make sure he does. (not vicious evil bullying, just showing everyone how much smarter he is and stuff)

14. What is your oc’s speech like? How loud are they usually? Do they have an accent or a stutter?

He is immensely skilled when it comes to speaking and words in general. Immensely. You will not be able to beat him in a discussion. (Maybe also because he just won’t let you talk and straight up ignore you if you want to say something against him. Yes he is very difficult to deal with. Yes i love him for that.) He’s also just a very loud person with a highly contagious laughter. Like he enters a room and everyone will notice him immediately.

His accent, because he comes from the north of Vrozhondiya, is a bit harsher and more pronounced than the accent people from Cantaville have which makes his way of speaking even more intimidating. (Imagine the difference like for example people from northumberland vs old hollywood actors with a transatlantic accent.

29. If a perfume was to be made to represent your oc, what sorts of smells would be included in it?

Wood, the smell of old books and chocolate!! His parents own a chocolaterie and he smelled of chocolate his entire childhood. Now he mostly smells of ld books bc he spends hours and hours in the university’s library.

100 oc questions