#bandit attempts nano

[aparticularbandit]

luisa refuses to leave you while they stitch the gaping hole in your arm.  the false you’s bullet grazed your shoulder.  she traces her fingers across the stitching once. ascertaining herself of the other doctor’s work, whispers it won’t scar.  as if you don’t know.  as if that hadn’t been part and parcel of your foolproof plan.

(your body must not bear scars. they become identification marks, just like birthmarks or beauty marks.  your stepmother’s voice echoes, reverberating around your skull: you are perfect, unmarked.  you can be anyone.  everyone.

and so you have been.)

they’d given luisa valium to calm her shaking nerves.  you forego your own pain pills, feigning swallowing them.  you don’t want the potential loopiness, don’t want what you might say if you let yourself be too free with your words.  luisa asks to watch over you and drags you back to the marbella with her.  i’m a medical doctor, she says.  i’ve got you.  i’ll be your own personal nurse.  but that’s before the valium hits, and in the end, you are watching her just as much as she is watching you.

she curls up next to you, resting her head on your breast, and wraps both arms around you as though you are her own personal pillow.  you might as well be, but warmer, as she likes to mumble as her hold tightens on your waist.  it’s not the first time she’s said it, although it’s the first time she’s said it to you as you are, in this form, in this mask.  even without a mask, rose solano was a mask.  anything that’s not you is.

your fingers brush through her dark hair, and when her breathing evens out and her heartbeat slows, when her murmurs cease and her eyes flutter closed, you use your unharmed arm to remove your uncomfortable mask.  you shift against her pillows, forcing yourself to remain propped up, and press the gentlest kiss you can to her forehead.  her nose wrinkles, even in her sleep, and she asks, whispers your name, “rose?”

you untape your voice.  “you’re dreaming, luisa.”

her eyes flicker open, and she sees your face through a drugged haze.  “i thought you died.”

“did you?”

her gaze narrows, eyes squinting. “you don’t look the same.  i think i’m—“  she shuts her eyes tight.  “you’re not real.”

but your fingers brush through the tangles in her hair, and you replace your voice.  “who’s not real, luisa?”  you know she won’t open her eyes.  she doesn’t want to look and see someone who isn’t there.  she doesn’t want to see you.  you’re dead.

you have been for a while. much longer than those hours she thinks.

“rose, i—“

your uncomfortable mask and wig are back when she finally opens her eyes the smallest peep, trying, scanning to make sure you’re you.  well.  not you. the you she expects to see.  the you that isn’t really you at all, except in these brief moments with her when you let yourself simply be.  (it’s harder. you know she doesn’t want you. you want to respect that.  not because you want to respect that but because she does.)

she sees susanna’s face and she shakes her head.  “i think i’m seeing things.”

“it was just a dream, sugar.”

you hate this voice, hate the southern country twang curling around your own dulcet tones.

luisa nods against your chest, voice a soft mmhmm of agreement.  “ok.”  then she’s asleep again.

you know better than to let yourself sleep, but you finally doze off, fingers tracing along the line of her spine.

[iwouldratherprocrastinate]

TroyxReader/Borderlands 3 Rewrite

Growing up on Pandora was rough to say the least, I learned early on that it was kill or be killed. Add on top of that being a Siren and I had a small chance of survival. With my tattoos being across my chest and both arms, I got accustommed to wearing my signature turtleneck long sleeve, to help combat the heat of the surrounding area, I at least cut it into a crop top. On the plus, living in constant fear of bandits attacking had kept me fit through the years.

Currently I was running for my life from some psychos and tinks who decided I was their next target. Breathing heavy, I ran around a bend and face planted into a firm body, falling flat on my ass. "Fuck!" Looking up, I saw the familiar uniform of the Crimson Raiders, 'I'm saved!! Fuck yeah!' Scrambling to my feet, I jump behind the soldier and see two more of them behind, they quickly took out their guns and dispatched the bandits after me. That my friends is how I owed my life to the Crimson Raiders.

Living with the Raiders was the best time of your life until Handsome Jack ruined it all. So now you and Lilith were on your way to meet the new Vault Hunters as they cleared out a COV post. I told Lilith I could have done it myself, but she insisted on bringing in help, her words were exactly "I get what you are saying kid, but I can't afford to lose you too." She had become like a mother to you and losing Roland hit her really hard. She was protective of me even before he got killed, but afterwards she really tightened her grip around me. Hardly letting me out alone, if I was allowed out my pet skag pup, not that he could do much really. Montag as I call him, I rescued him when his mother wandered a bit too close to Lil. Both moms got a bit aggressive, so I had to save him before he acted on instinct. Ever since he has been attached at my hip, it baffles everyone who meets us.

Enough story time, back to what you all came here for. Lil grabbed my hand and we flashed to the new 4 Vault Hunters, they were pretty impressive. The leader I presumed was a buff Siren, she was really pretty. I felt myself swooning a little and had to real myself back in. The second one was a small girl about my height who wore military gear, she looked tough as hell. The third was an older man who appeared to be slightly drunk with a hologram of himself behind him. The fourth was a robot who seemed pretty ordinary until my eyes met the skag at his side wearing a bandana. Monty ran to it and began winding through its legs making as close to a bark noise as a skag can get. Giggling, I ran forward and pet the new skag, "What is his name?" The robot seemed confused by this, "His name is Mr.Chew and I am designated FL4K" I grinned up at him, "He is cute, you all can call me Medic! I will be your mandatory healer." Lilith went a bit stern, "We never discussed this. You have to stay with me."

Grumbling, I pouted, "B-But, I can do so much more helping them! Come on, I am an adult now. I wanna help..." The buff Siren spoke up, "I wouldn't object to a healer helping out." She turned to me and smiled, "By the way I am Amara." My face turned bright red as I nodded, "Thank you and pleasure to meet you.."

Lilith sighed, "I will think about it." Looking at her with a hopeful face, 'That is the closest to a yes I have gotten! Yes!' The short one chuckled gravelly at my face and stuck out her hand for a fist bump, "I am Moze, good to meet ya kid!" I grinned and bumped her fist while the older man turned and his hologram spoke, "I am Zane, now that we have introductions out of the way, should we go inside and plan our next move?"

Lilith smirked and nodded, "Yeah, their is a space we can use further inside this place, let's go." We all followed her while Monty continued harassing Mr.Chew. Mr.Chew was surprisingly tolerant of the little one. It made you glad inside to know that Monty finally had another one of his kind to play with. He was too scared to leave your side, so he never met any skags except the ones you killed. Even those were few and far between due to not wanting to kill them in front of him.

Once we arrived at the back room, Lilith discussed with the Vault Hunters what they had to do before we coudl all leave and go onto Santuary. She remained firm that I had to stay with her or Ellie until we got to Santuary. She knew I was a Siren, but no one else did, she wanted me safe until we had a home base we could run to in case of danger. I decided to go hang out with Ellie for most of it. She has always been my favorite person to spend most of my time with, she helped me develop my tech that allowed me to be a Medic.

See, I knew I had to have another skill if I was gonna hide my powers. I needed something else to make me a good team member, so Ellie and I made some nanotech to heal others. It is similar to Hammerlock's sisters tech, We actually studied hers to make the base for mine. I am happy with how it came out, I just had to touch my hand to the persons skin to activate it. It came in handy alot, it automatically attempts to heal me. It just made me more frustrated by the fact that I couldn't leave and explore.

Anyway, at least Ellie let me hunt down bandits near her garage, she called it 'Spring Cleaning". Monty enjoyed it as well, he got to snack on the bodies. It is gross if you think about it too hard, that's why I try not to. It makes him happy, so I let him do it. By the time I got done with another Cleaning, Santuary was ready to go and Lil was transporting everyone to the ship.

We were waiting for the Vault Hunters to come through the door when suddenly it closed on them and I gripped onto Lilith's arm out of habit.

Following Lilith's eyes, we had the Calypso twins prowling around us, 'Fucking great! Just what we needed..' Lilith held onto me protectively while also gripping the vault key as tightly as she could.

Tyreen stopped on front of us and Troy behind, when I looked back to keep an eye on him, we locked eyes. I froze, both of the twins were not what I was expecting, but the taller male twin had really pretty eyes. 'Did I seriously just think about how pretty his eyes are when they are probably gonna kill us?? Get it together y/n..' He had me locked in a stare off as he smirked like he knew I was admiring him.

Tyreen spoke up snapping my attention forward, "Firehawk. Just give me the map." I looked up at Lilith worried for what she was gonna say next, "No. Way." Tyreen smirked happily, "Cool. Let's DO THIS!"

Lilith as if knowing what was gonna happen, teleported me up onto a platform to keep me safe. Just as she did that, Tyreen took advantage of her lack of focus and launched Lilith with her powers. The Vault key got launched into the air and Troy caught it doing a little trick.

'Fuck, Lilith is in trouble and I can't fucking do anything! If I show my powers, they will know I am a Siren and probably kill me..'

Then Troy sent out two surveyor bots, one to watch Lilith and Tyreen fight presumably to stream it to their followers and one to watch me. 'Why the hell is there one watching me?'

Drawing my attention to the fight, it seemed that Lilith was getting the upper hand until Tyreen punched her, by this point I was trying to hide the tears pouring down my face. Watching my mother figure get beat down like this with no way to help fucking sucked. It felt like a bowling ball to the gut.

Troy chuckled at the face Lilith made in pain, "Ohohoho, this is gold!" My eyes fixated on Lilith, I didn't notice Tyreen charging up a ball of energy until Lilith completely blocked it with a pillar of fire. Without thinking I yelled, "Yes!" and immediately shrank back when Troy smirked up at me.

Lilith took this opportunity to teleport behind him and punch him down, as he struggled to move away, she grew shocked to see Siren tattoos on his arm. Ny nouth was hung open as I gasped and covered my mouth.

"You're a Siren?" This couldn't be the case, Lilith knew of all the possible Sirens at the moment. Troy wore the smirk that seemed to be permanetly glued to his face, "Heh. Yeah... well... Runs in the family."

I looked up and barely had time to yell out, "Lilith, behind you!" before Tyreen had her by the neck. I chocked back a scream. Tyreen looked pissed, "I'm the Siren. He's just a parasite. Literally." I flinched at her choice of words, 'Wow, rude.' Lilith tried to break free as best she could, but it seemed that Tyreen was using her powers. "When we were born, our father had to cut him off of me! Now I'M the only thing keeping him alive."

Lilith looked paler than usual as she managed to speak, "What are you....doing?!" Tyreen seemed smug, "I can leech the power from any living thing. Even you, Firehawk."

"Legendary Vault Hunter, Slayer of the Destroyer, Firehawk. So many titles, so little impact!" Lilith's hand slid down from a fist to hang weakly at her side, this brought me to my knees with worry. 'Come on Lil, hang in there. I got my nanos ready.' I tried to project this into her head as best I could, she had been trying to teach me how to, but she only had time for so much teaching being the leader of the Crimson Raiders.

Tyreen shrugged, "Well, I've taken your powers--might as well finish you off." My body jolted up and yelled, "No!" She didn't even glance my way, but the tallr twin did, if only for a short second. He grunted "Ngh... Ty... Tyreen!" It seems he needed her to help him up. She groaned, "Fine.."

Dropping Lilith, she turned to grab her brothers hand and help him up. It looked like she was transferring some of her energy to him as she did so. Lilith weakly crawled towards the key, 'Stop Lil... Please... Just play dead, so I can help you...' Troy came over and kicked her in the gut before she could reach the key, "Ooooooh! Uh-uh-uh. Man, you should've seen your face. You, you, you were like, "Oh, my powers! Boo-hoo!" Ty--Ty, c'mon! We're live in three, two," You decided then that you hated these bastards. Mostly for hurting Lil, but also for that shit joke he made.

Tyreen got in position in front of the camera and put on her stage persona, you zoned out until you heard them talking about you afterwards while bandits prowled around. Tyreen pointed up at me, "Should we do something about her?" Troy shrugged, "Eh, she seemed like small fry. Leave her to the bandits." They both teleported out, or so you thought. As you jumped down from the platform, they were nearby watching you to see what your deal is.

"Fuck! Lil! Stay with me! The nanos are powered up.." Putting your hands on her stomach, you let the bots get to work as Monty ran over to you, "Shit! Fuckers are gonna pay for this.." Monty curled up against her while I healed. The Vault Hunters busted in just as some bandits were rounding up on us, while they defended us, Lilith grabbed my wrist, "We gotta get to Santuary." I nodded and helped her up while calling for Monty, "C'mon boy! Let's go."

The twins were intrigued to say the least, Tyreen smirked, "Maybe we should take her. Hmmm.." Troy smirked, he could think of some ways to play. Tyreen grabbed his hand, "Another time, we got a Vault to find."

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

Arriving in Promethea was an insane experience for me, I had never left small parts of Pandora, let alone the entire planet. I was still worried about Lil, but my bots did as much as they could in the situation. Now that I had my chance to explore, I decided to stick close to FL4K, he was the most like me, we got along the best, plus since he is a bot, Lilith didn't mind us sharing a bedroom on the ship. The pups had a blast. Turns out he had other pets as well, they were just in a digistruct type container, he gave me one as well. He said it can only have one beast out at a time.

Every time I fight, I have to resist the urge to just fight with my powers, it would make my time easier, but it isn't a good time for people to know. My travel companions don't even know, only Lil and Ellie. I needed my powers now, especially since she had lost hers. Any time my mind drifted to that moment, my mind reminded me of Troy's eyes and how mesmerizing they were. 'Stop! You are the Medic! Keep your head in the game, he is the enemy..' I shook my head and heard a voice swearing at the bandits and shooting, for a moment I forgot about my group and fought my way over to a girl with black and turqouise hair. She was gorgeous and her accent. It sent a shiver down your spine, 'Gotta stop admiring everyone I meet..' I hated how I fangirled over any pretty face, but I couldn't help it.

She grinned excitedly at me as the rest of the bandits were taken out and my team caught up to me, "Heya! The name's Lorelai. Pleasure to meet ya!" She explained the situation to us all while walking towards her safe spot with Atlas soldiers. I have heard some stuff about the Atlas CEO, apparently he has a robot arm. I am dying to take a look at it.

Lorelai wanted us to take back a building where we could contact Rhys from. Approaching the location of the building, everyone prepped their weapons and I got my sniper off my back and peaked through it, "I see about 20 Maliwan men outside, 5 of them are heavys, hard to tell from here with the others. I can take out some of the small fry, if you all focus the heavys." Everyone was surprised at my sudden take of control, but nodded nonetheless. Amara and Moze took the front charging at the heavys while the rest provided them with cover fire. I focused on the flash troopers I could see, expertly shooting into their back chargers. When they started exploding left and right, my team whooped and started working harder with the added motivation of successs.

After they finished cleaning up the rest of the Maliwan men, I hoisted Monty into my arms and jogged over to them, "That was amazing! I have only ever fought bandits, this was so different!" I twirled in a circle holding Monty in my arms giggling. Amara smirked and patted me on the head, " C'mon kid, we gotta talk to that CEO."

Lorelai chuckled and led the way, "So Medic, why do they call you that? You seem like an ordinary Vault Hunter to me." I smirked and summoned a cloud of my nanobots, "These are my pride and joy. Healing nanobots, I touch someone skin to skin and they get healed, I have some chips inbedded in me, that activate them when I touch someone. Took Ellie and I 3 years to perfect." Lorelai seemed really impressed by this, "Damn, I didn't think you were a child protege looking at you."

Everyone laughed while I had my mouth open in shock, " I'm not a kid! I am 21!" Lorelai broke out laughing, "Oh god! I am sorry, you are just so small!" I huffed and walked over to the control panel in the building, "Let's just call Rhys.." Crossing my arms, Rhys came up on the screen, "Hello, you have reached Rhys CEO and owner of Atlas corporation. Who are you and how did you get this number!?" He freaked out a bit at the sight of the Vault Hunters, his eyes drifted to Lorelai as she spoke, "Rhys, these are Vault Hunters and they came looking for a Vault or information on it."

He looked down at us, "Well I don't know anything about a Vault, but my operative out in the field can probably help you if you seek him out." Lorelai then noticed the mustache on his face, "What is that furball on your face Rhys??" I giggled at her wording, "I think it looks okay." He smirked at my comment, "This is my seige mustache, it garners moral with the troops. Plus she likes it, who are you by the way?"

With blush on my cheeks, I smile at him, "I am the Medic, I'm with the Vault Hunters." He seemed intrigued by this, "Are you a Siren?" I jumped on the inside while avoiding the question, "I have medical nanobots. They activate on contact." He seemed impressed by this and nodded, "Huh, we might have to discuss tech sometime." My insides lit up at the opportunity to talk to more people about tech, not many people growing up were interested in it.

[golden-deer-dear]

The Weight of a Name, Claude x Byleth AU Fic, Chapter 4

Summary: One decision can change the course of nations. When King Mahtab brought home a baby from Fódlan, he gave his own son someone to stand at his side. Byleth grows up side by side with Claude, surviving the hardship of Almyra together. For each, they are the other’s only friend.

Notes: This chapter took forever. I couldn't quite make it feel right, so it got rewritten multiple times. And it's very long, so I hope that makes up for the wait.Now that we're actually out of NaNo, I'll probably be slower on updates for this story. I'm going to switch between updating this and History on Repeat (and whatever little one shots catch my attention, because let's be real, I get distracted super easily).

I just realized I completely forgot the links to previous chapters, and to AO3 in the other chapters. I’m going back to fix that right now. I always try to include these, so if you notice I forget them, please yell at me. 

1162, 1167, 1169 Read on AO3. 

The Weight of a Name 1170

Moving from the summer palace back to the capital city was always more of a show than Byleth thought necessary. Under normal circumstances the trip would only take two or three days, one on the back of a wyvern, but with the entire royal entourage in tow the entire process took five days at the least. With the king deciding on the third day that pausing for a hunt was a sensible thing to do, it meant they would linger in the wilderness even longer. Byleth really did not wish to listen to the complaints of spoiled nobles longer than necessary.

Which was how she found herself off to the side of the proceedings, sharp eyes watching as nobles gossiped and drank, and servants rushed to refill those drinks and check provisions. Byleth did not feel as if she fit into either group, and wanted to join Claude. He would have some weird quip that would have Byleth fighting that odd sensation that made her want to smile. But Claude was mounted beside his father, taking a place of honor in the hunt. It was a wholly inappropriate place for a Fódlan orphan. His wyvern, almost a year old, was still small enough to fit on his shoulders, and had wrapped itself around Claude’s shoulders. Shamil watched the whole proceedings with the same annoyance Byleth felt.

Naima stepped into Byleth’s field of vision, drawing the young girl’s attention away from her friend. You are not excited? Naima signed, the smile on her lips betraying her knowledge of the answer she would receive.

Byleth shook her head, the thick braid Naima had woven her hair into bouncing against her back. “No. This seems unnecessary. Look at Nader. He’s got that smile on his face, but it’s fake. He hasn’t set up security for this situation.”

Naima looked thoughtful, tapping a well manicured nail against her lips before she answered. True, but we are also in the heart of Almyra. There is not much here to harm us besides ourselves, and that is a threat the king and Nader are both very used to looking out for. 

Byleth still did not look satisfied. “I’ll feel better when we’re home.”

Naima sighed silently and shook her head. If you are so worried, then once the hunt begins find your way to his side. 

As Naima adjusted the bow on her back, Byleth blinked at her caretaker. “Where will you be?”

Where I always am, Naima answered simply, her eyes drifting toward her brother. Wherever he needs me.

/

There were times Byleth hated being right. This was very much one of them.

The rampaging wyvern had come out of nowhere, screaming in pain and rage when it encountered the royal party. The bandits came next, cursing when they saw just who they had run into. They were bad actors. Byleth did not believe their ploy for a moment. But as to why they decided such a show was necessary was not the issue at the moment. 

No, Byleth was much more worried about the injured wyvern. Mahtab had placed himself between the creature and Claude, protecting his son from the first attack, but with the bandits joining in, the king’s attention was now divided.

“Claude!” Byleth charged toward her friend, pushing her way past the confusion the royal party had fallen into. Nader was shouting orders, quickly getting a handle on the situation. As many of the nobles were soldiers as well, they were falling into formation with a terrifying grace and swiftness. 

Claude glance for a brief second in her direction, but his focus was on the wyvern still going berserk at the head of the party. He drew his bow and knocked an arrow. Byleth saw him take a deep breath in, releasing half of it as he aimed, only fully exhaling as the arrow flew from his bow. 

The wyvern screamed in pain as the arrow sank into its open maw. It was an impressive shot, a wound that would kill over the course of a few minutes as the creature bled out, but the wyvern was so enraged it did not seem to realize its life blood was pouring out onto the ground below it. It screamed, snapping the arrow in half as it gnashed its teeth together, its attention now fully focused on the young prince.

Byleth sprinted forward, her legs aching with effort as she dodged hooves and blades that stood between her and her friend. She watched Claude pale as he reached for another arrow, but the wyvern was charging fast. By the time Claude had aimed his next arrow it would be too close. 

Please, please, please! Byleth had no idea who she was pleading with, no idea if anyone could actually listen. But beneath the sounds of battle, the screams as men died around her, Byleth could have sworn she heard someone yawn. 

She had no time to ponder it. Her legs pumped, putting on a speed that would have surprised anyone paying attention to her, and placed herself between the wyvern and Claude. Claude cried out, but Byleth’s sword was already raised. Her sword tore into the berserk creature’s neck even as its claw came crashing down onto her shoulder. 

Claude jumped from his horse, axe in hand, and rushed to her side. Byleth bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain when Claude grabbed her, attempting to pull her away, but the wyvern had just enough fury left to sustain it a moment longer. The creature’s tail swung around, catching both children and knocking them through the air, and right into the river the party had traveled alongside all morning.

Byleth scrambled as water closed in over her head, knowing that the scent of her blood in the water would attract predators. Claude. She needed to find Claude. Where was he?

Something wrapped around her, pulling at her. Byleth wanted to scream as the action aggravated her injured shoulder, but she saw the green of Claude’s tunic and kicked her feet, helping as he dragged them both to shore.

She breathed deeply when the water broke over her head, coughing and sputtering on the shore as Claude did the same beside her. 

“Ugh,” Claude finally managed, his voice hoarse.

Byleth shared the sentiment, but they did not have time for a break. “Come on,” she said, forcing herself to roll over and push herself to her feet. “We need to go.”

“Ugh,” Claude moaned again. After a moment though he too pushed himself up. Shamil poked his head out of Claude’s shirt, hacking and looking no better than his master.

“Do you still have your bow?” Byleth asked, eyes scanning their surroundings. The tall grass of the plains they were traveling through would be easy for someone familiar with the area to hide within, and not so easy for them. Plus, so long as they were near the river, there would be predatory animals to worry about as well.

Claude shook his head, stumbling a bit at the motion. Byleth reached out to steady him, hissing softly at the stress it put on her arm. “No, lost it in the river. And my axe as well it seems.”

Byleth thought rapidly. There was no telling how far away they had been swept downstream. The easiest way back would be to simply follow the river, but if there were more bandits, they were likely to be close to the only water source around for some miles. Claude without weapons was not good. Byleth without her sword arm was not good. She gritted her teeth and handed the sword over to Claude.

Her friend blinked at the weapon shoved into his hands before looking up at her in confusion. “Byleth?”

“I can’t use it with my arm like this,” Byleth said, nodding toward her shoulder. “But I still have my daggers. I’ll have an easier time using those in my off hand than I will the sword. And I’ve seen you practicing with Nader. You’ll do better with that than short blades.” The sword would also keep him at a longer reach from any enemy they might encounter. An adult could easily outreach Claude, but every little bit helped at this point. 

“All right,” Claude said softly, wrapping the sword belt around his waist. “Let’s get out of here.”

/

Mahtab clicked his tongue in disgust as he wiped his blade clean. The attack had been foolish and unorganized. In mere minutes the group of bandits were dispatched, their blood soaking the earth. Nader already had people moving the bodies away from the water so that the river would not become contaminated by their filth. 

He turned, intent to find his son, when the sound of more horses racing down the path toward them caught his attention. Mahtab readied his sword, Nader swinging his axe back into a ready position, as they turned to face whatever was coming. 

The sudden burst of adrenaline gave way to relief as he recognized Odette charging toward him on a bay mare. The rest of the royal entourage that had stayed behind at camp streamed behind her, all battle ready. Mahtab frowned when he saw blood on their weapons. 

Odette swung down from her horse, running the last few steps to her husband and quickly looking him over. “You weren’t hurt?”

Mahtab shook his head, doing his own once over of his wife. “What happened?”

“Goli had scouts near the wyvern breeding grounds that did not report back. She went to go check herself, and found her people dead,” Odette explained. “It seems the bandits were attempting to steal some of the royal herd, but only managed to piss them off. Goli saw the main group on her way back, heading toward you from behind. So, we came up from behind them before they could trap you.”

Mahtab smiled at her, wrapping an arm around her waist and kissing her quickly. “My beautiful warrior queen,” he whispered against her lips. 

Odette rolled her eyes, but did not push him away. Before she could say anything, however, Naima was beside them. Where are they?

Mahtab and Odette both frowned, heads whipping around to look for their son. There was only one ‘they’ Naima could be referring to. Mahtab’s heart pounded furiously in his chest as the seconds grew longer without sight of his son. “Claude!” he cried out. 

At his shout, several courtiers near him looked up in surprise, all seeming to realize that the prince was missing at the same time. The prince’s name was shouted, dead bodies moved aside to make sure he was not trapped. But Claude was nowhere, and neither was Byleth.

It was Naima who found Claude’s bow tangled in the reeds of the river bank. She had only to point before Odette was on her horse again, Mahtab not far behind. Behind him, Nader barked orders, splitting up trusted soldiers to join their king and queen.

Mahtab could only pray that wherever the river had taken them, they were together. Protect my son, Byleth, he thought, so desperate it came out like a prayer. Once more, please be by his side and protect him.

/

“Byleth, we need to do something about your shoulder before we go any further.”

Byleth paused and looked at her wound, studying it with seemingly uninterested eyes before nodding. Claude let loose a quick sigh, glad he would not have to fight with her on this. Together they peeled back the material soaked in river water and blood. Shamil once more emerged from Claude’s shirt, making high little chirps of concern as the wound was revealed.

“Shh, Shamil,” Claude shushed the wyvern. There could easily be more bandits around, and they didn’t need that kind of attention right now. The wyvern whined once more before wrapping itself around Claude’s neck to sulk. 

“It’s not as bad as I thought,” Byleth said. She winced slightly as she poked at the three vertical gashes on her shoulder. “They’re not even really that deep.”

That was true, but the slow leakage of blood was still concerning. He took the waterskin from his hip and popped it open. He hoped he was doing this correctly. Healing had never really been a strong skill of his. 

“We don’t have anything to wrap it with,” Byleth pointed out.

Claude blinked, realizing she was right. All the had were the clothes on their backs and the two weapons Byleth had managed to hang onto. If they were out here for much longer they would need to find food, but Claude shoved that thought away. He needed to focus on Byleth right now. 

He handed her the waterskin and removed the scarf tied around his head. It was the least damp of all their materials. Claude reached out, and Byleth handed over her dagger without him having to ask. He cut a short length off, and used it to clean the gashes, pouring water over Byleth’s shoulder occasionally to help. The rest of the scarf was cut into a series of makeshift bandages that Claude did his best to wrap around the wound. The result was workable, but looked absolutely tragic.

He glared at Byleth as she fought back a smirk, the corners of her lips twitching upward. “Hey, I did my best,” he protested.

“You did,” Byleth agreed. “Thank you, Claude.”

Claude nodded and got to his feet. “We’ll need more water. I’ll be right back.”

Byleth’s face immediately became concerned, and she reached out with her good arm, her hand catching his. “Claude.”

“I’ll be fine,” Claude tried to reassure her, but he could tell the smile on his face was too forced. Byleth would see right through it. “The river is right over there. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Be careful. There’s most likely more than bandits in the area. And scavengers won’t be afraid to pick off a single child by himself.”

If anyone else said it to him, Claude would be offended. But this was Byleth, and he had grown used to her bluntness by now. Instead, he nodded to her. “I will.”

/

Shamil's surprised squawk was all the warning Claude had before someone was grabbing him by the hair and dragging him to his feet. 

"Well, well, look what we managed to find after all," a calm voice drawled. 

Claude immediately clawed at his attackers hands,  but the man shook him hard enough to make Claude's teeth clash together. He tasted blood and the back of his mind noted that he had bitten his tongue. 

"Enough of that now." 

Claude finally looked up at the man who held him. He was tall, with fine features and dark hair. His black eyes glinted in amusement, like a snake who had cornered a rat, with a deep scar running across his cheek. His clothes were something a merchant would wear, not a bandit. 

As the man leaned in, Claude smelled a cloying sweetness, a scent he had only ever heard described before. He didn't look like a tribesman, but the two men flanking him certainly did.

Claude struggled anew, but the man slammed him into the ground. The riverbank gave way beneath the harsh blow, and Claude splashed into the water for the second time that day, landing on his back in the shallows. 

There was a cry of outrage from another of the men and the high pitched screech of a baby wyvern, but Claude had no time to focus on it. The obviously not a bandit jumped into the river after him, shoving Claude's head beneath the water. 

He struggled, arms flailing and feet kicking. He managed to break through the surface a few times, taking giant lungfuls of air, but mostly ended up with water in his mouth and up his nose. The riverbed churned beneath him, dirt clouding the water and stinging his eyes. 

When his fingers wrapped around something smooth and hard, Claude did not stop to think. He slammed the object into the side of his attacker's head. The man's hands loosened, allowing Claude to shove him back. 

He aimed what he could now see was a smooth river rock for the man again, but he raised his arms to deflect Claude's attack. A swift kick to his side sent Claude sprawling in the reeds. Different hands grabbed him, lifting him into the air. Claude continued to lash out, managing to connect with something solid. There was a spray of hot blood over his face before he was falling forward. He landed on top of his assailant, and hit him again and again with the rock, fear driving him on even after the body had stilled beneath him. 

Someone uttered a word Claude had never heard before, but based on its tone he could only assume it to be a curse. Another hand grabbed at him, smaller and shaking, trying to tear him away. Claude shouted, screamed in Byleth's face as she pulled him to her. His mind briefly registered that her right arm hung limp and useless at her side, and there was blood covering her left hand almost up to her elbow. Shamil was wrapped around her neck, and squeaked in fear at the harsh noise that ripped its way from Claude’s throat.

That unfamiliar word was repeated, Claude's eyes snapping to the first man who had attacked him. But the man was not looking at them. He was staring further up river. He shot one last glance at the two children, calculating eyes weighing the risks. Apparently deciding to cut his losses, the man turned to run.

Claude could hear them now, horses hooves pounding against the plains. An arrow flew by them, catching the man in the leg. He went down on one knee, unable to move with the shaft pierced through his muscles. He snapped the arrow in half, pulling it through injured flesh, but by the time he stood on unsteady legs, the horses were on them.

"Chain him," a voice barked, one used to giving orders that were immediately obeyed. "I want him tied to one of the spare horses and on his way back to His Majesty immediately."

Basir stopped his horse in front of Claude and Byleth, looking them over with a critical eye. Claude knew the general was traveling with them, but had not seen him up close since Keveh had thrown up all over his tunic last year. Now, with a weapon on his hip and a storm in his eyes, Claude saw why his enemies had taken to calling him Storm's Fury.

"Looks like you're in one piece. Are you hurt at all, little prince?"

Claude bristled at the blatant disrespect, but kept his temper. He nodded sharply, but Basir was already dismounting, his eyes locked on the body they stood next to. 

Another horse drew up in front of them, Naima leaping from the saddle. Her bow was still in her hand, the feathers in her quiver the same color as the arrow that had pierced the not bandit. She immediately swept both children into her arms, moving back only to look them over. 

Are you hurt? she signed to both of them.

Claude shook his head, while Byleth tilted her shoulder toward Naima with a blank face. Naima’s quick fingers checked over Byleth, her eyes hard as she removed the makeshift bandages. She stood straight and motioned for someone to join them, only stepping away from Byleth when a young man joined them and began to look her over. White light glowed around his fingers, Byleth’s flesh closing shut beneath his touch. 

And you? Naima signed to Claude, genuine concern in her brown eyes. Are you sure you aren’t hurt?

Claude nodded. “No, Naima, I’m not hurt.”

“You can drop the stone, Your Highness.” Basir’s voice was still far from kind, but there was something resembling respect in it when he addressed Claude again. He stood from where he had been squatting next to body of the tribesman, stroking his perfectly trimmed beard as he regarded Claude. “Your first kill?”

Claude stiffened, but nodded. It would do no good to lie to someone like Basir about something like that. “Yes, sir.”

Basir stared a moment longer before nodding sharply. A heavy hand landed on Claude’s shoulder briefly, making Claude’s heart leap. It was a small sign of approval, but one that caught him completely off guard. 

And then the weight was gone. Basir’s voice boomed out once more. “Gather these bodies to take back with us. Five minutes, and then we leave.”

Claude found himself suddenly lifted up in the air, deposited on Basir’s horse before the man swung back up in the saddle. Next to him, Naima was doing the same with Byleth, the healer helping them due to her injured arm.

“Let’s get you back to your parents,” Basir said, his deep voice causing his chest to rumble against Claude’s back. “The Queen looked like she was about to scourge the entire plains if we didn’t find you soon.”

/

Mahtab reached them first, and if Claude was not so surprised, he would be annoyed that so many people were simply picking him up and dragging him around today. His father’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him off Basir’s horse. Claude found himself crushed against his father’s chest, Mahtab’s strong hand on the back of his head.

“Claude,” Mahtab breathed out, relief palpable in his voice. Claude could almost swear he heard the edge of a sob at the end of his name. It frightened him. “I was so worried.”

“Claude!” His mother’s voice echoed across camp, followed by the pounding of her feet as she ran toward them. “Claude!” Odette wrapped her arms around his husband and her son, pressing kisses to Claude’s forehead. 

He was at a complete loss. More than anything, his parents’ actions enforced what he had gone through. They had never held him like this before, never showed such concern. It was too much. He had survived an attack, killed his first man, almost lost his best friend, and now he was simply confused. 

/

Byleth sat up when she heard the tent rustle, knowing only one person would be lifting the back of the canvas than entered through the front flap.

“Is your arm going to be okay?” Claude asked as he climbed onto the sleeping cot next to her. Shamil, separated from his master since they were rescued, uncurled himself from Byleth’s pillow and leap into Claude’s arms. The wyvern made happy little chirps, covering the prince’s face in licks with his rough tongue.

“It will be,” Byleth answered, glaring down at the sling that cradled her arm. “I’ll have to wear this for at least a week.”

Claude winced for her, shoving Shamil down. Shamil, however, was not about to be stopped, and ended up licking Claude’s eyeball. “Ugh, Shamil! Yes, I love you too. Please calm down!”

Shamil whined, but settled for curling up around Claude’s neck, giving occasion licks to Claude’s cheek. Byleth covered her mouth with her good hand, stifling a giggle. Claude’s eyes went wide, and he stared at her as if he had never seen her before.

“What?” Byleth asked, hand dropping away from her face.

“I’ve never heard you giggle before,” Claude said in wonder. 

“It’s not that strange,” Byleth muttered, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under his gaze.

Claude was silent for a moment, before apparently deciding to let the topic go. (At least for the moment. Byleth had no doubt it would come back around sooner or later.) “I think someone organized those tribesmen against us. For the most part, my father has left them alone. And I don’t think they’re stupid enough to attack a fully armed royal contingent unless encouraged, even with a mad wyvern on the loose to distract us.”

“You’re so sure they were tribesmen and not mere bandits,” Byleth pointed out, before quietly waiting for an answer to her statement.

“It was the man who led the ones that attacked us by the river, I smelled his breath when he tried to strangle me,” Claude explained quietly. “The tribes to the southeast brew a special beer, supposedly very strong, that leaves the drinker’s breath smelling of day old flowers. It’s exactly what his breath smelt like.”

“But he isn’t a tribesman,” Byleth counted. “So, you think he is part of those who organized the effort?”

Claude nodded, stroking Shamil’s snout. “Not a very important part. They never would have let anyone like that be put in a position to get caught.”

Byleth nodded back in agreement. “So, what are we going to do about it?”

“Well,” Claude said evenly as he curled on the cot beside her, “we need to figure out who is willing to attack us, and who might have influence over the southern tribes.”

Byleth frowned as she settled in beside him. “I feel like there will be more overlap between the two than you are expecting.”

Claude shrugged. “Probably, but it’s a place to start. And we’ll keep an ear out for anything Goli and her crew might find from the man they brought in.” He sighed, unconsciously leaning into Byleth’s warmth. “It’s too much to hope it’s simply my uncle and stupid cousin, isn’t it?”

“Probably,” Byleth answered simply. “And if it was, Kadir is too smart to leave any trace of his involvement. Keveh might let something slip, but Kadir isn’t about to entrust anything like that to his son just yet.”

Claude sighed again and closed his eyes. Byleth stared at him for a moment, letting the silence of the night linger around them, before reaching out to pet Shamil. “Are you really okay?” she asked.

Claude’s eyes opened slowly, looking much too serious for a boy so young. Byleth knew the answer before he spoke. “Was that the first time you’ve killed someone?”

“Yes,” she answered with her usual straightforwardness. 

“It feels...odd,” Claude continued after a long silence. “I don’t feel bad that he’s dead, but it doesn’t feel like it all the stories we’ve been told. So many warriors come home and brag about how many enemies died upon their blades. It’s this grand thing, something to be celebrated.” He paused again, twisting the corner of her blanket as he gathered his thoughts. “What if they’re right? What if my Fódlan blood makes me weak?”

“If you were weak, you would not have done what needed to be done today,” Byleth pointed out. “You’re blood has nothing to do with that. And besides, what would your mother say if she heard you insinuating she was weak?”

Claude blanched at the idea of an upset Odette. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that the woman was unmatched when it came to weilding an axe. “What about you?” Claude asked. “You don’t seem upset that I insinuated the same thing about you.”

Byleth tried to shrug, but winced as pain lanced through her right side. “I know you don’t think I’m weak. You’ve looked up to me for years now.”

She could not be sure with how dark it was in the tent, but Byleth was pretty sure Claude was blushing. “Oh, shut up,” he mumbled into her pillow, turning to bury his face.

“Claude? Are you in here?” Odette’s voice came from the front of the tent. A moment later the flap was thrown open and the Queen entered, raising a lantern for light. She frowned softly when she caught sight of the two of them curled up together, but there was a kindness in her eyes as she walked to the cot. “Claude,” she whispered, brushing his hair back with gentle fingers, “if I let you stay here will you promise to get some rest?”

“Yes, maman,” Claude answered. His mouth opened in a large yawn for extra effect.

Odette just shook her head, leaning down to kiss her son’s forehead. “Just this once,” she whispered. 

“Thank you,” Claude answered back, which only caused Odette’s smile to turn sly.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” she teased. “I’m not the one who will have to deal with Nader’s snoring all night.”

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

Next chapter I will have a link to a list of all the ocs appearing in this fic. I know I'm introducing at least one or two a chapter, so I wanted to give you guys a convenient way to reference everyone.

[writeanapocalae]

Nano Last Updated 12/11/2012 Part 35

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31 | Part 32  | Part 33 | Part 34

Crin had eaten almost all of the meat, but he had slowed down drastically. He was no longer as hungry, but they didn’t know when they would next have a meal. He stood though, holding the animal in one hand and digging into it with the other and slowly followed Sanks through the forest.

They were only a few dozen yards from the edge of the forest and, once on the Coidy road, Sanks felt much better, much more human. Humans used roads, not forests to travel.

The sun wasn’t yet high in the sky and the air had a crisp bit of cold to it, so Sanks allowed the prince to wear his cloak for a bit longer as they walked in silence. The road was uneven and there were branches and stones and plants along and through it. No one had come by and cared for the road in a long time. No one had too; it was rarely used by those who wanted to keep their lives.

It was used though, as rare as it was, by people who wanted to stay away from the crowds and the police. Smugglers and thieves traveled it regularly, walking their horses over some of the worse potholes. It was what kept the residents of the road alive.

They had been walking for about an hour, Crin finally dumping the bones of his meal on the side of the narrow road when they finally stumbled onto a few of them.

Sanks could see two men in the distance and he finally stepped a bit closer to his companion, their feet finding a steady rhythm to share. He put his hand on Crin’s shoulder, trying not to feel the blood rushing through arteries so nearby.

“We should go back into the forest.” His voice was steady, his hand not shaking. That was good. That was control.

“What?” Crin asked, his feet grateful for the somewhat predictability of the road, “What’s going on?”

He pointed out the two dots down the road, getting a bit closer and larger with each step, “We’re not alone and they’re armed.”

Crin squinted, leaning forward and the tendons in his neck tightened, the veins around them getting just a bit closer to the skin. Sanks tore his eyes away, licking his lips, and attempting to think of something, anything, else.

“I can’t see anything!” Crin admitted, “Are you sure?”

The spots were getting larger, even though Sanks had stopped moving. That meant that the bandits had seen them as well and were approaching. They could hide into the forest, but they were new there. These men knew the forests, knew where the best hiding places were and, worst of all, they had chased enough people through them that they knew where they would go.

“They’ve seen us.”

“How can you even see that far?” Crin wrinkled his nose, trying to see what Sanks was seeing.

“I have a lot of experience.” Sanks shrugged.

“What should we do?”

“There’s nothing we can do. They’ll rob us of what little we have and kill us. Or I can take them on.”

“You aren’t armed!”

“No, but I can fight and I can heal. You can’t. Stay behind me and shout if you get into trouble.”

They continued walking. If they were going to run into bandits, Sanks wanted it to be on his terms. He wanted to be in control of the situation. He wanted their throats in his mouth, their blood pumping into his guts.

He was just about salivating.

“Alright, gold and weapons and jewels.” The large frog of a man ordered as they got within a few wary feet of the travelers. He was acting as if everyone knew the rules. Crin didn’t and he had slowed down, standing almost three feet behind his monstrous protector. “Hand ‘em over.”

“We’ve lost everything on this journey already.” Sanks explained, looking as weak and feeble as he could. His words were true, but his body language was a lie. He was faking them out, thinking he was a lot less of a threat than he was. He could feel the reds of his eyes showing and he kept them down.

The bandit’s partner, a small ugly man, even more of a frog than the former, drew his weapon, “He’s got a mark!” he exclaimed.

Sanks looked down himself, spinning around, acting completely clueless, “A mark, whatever do you mean?”

“I ain’t ever seen a mark like that.” The larger bandit snorted, “You sure it’s a real one. Not just fer fashion.”

“Is nickel, ain’t it? And look at the details! Is definitely a mark!”

Sanks tilted his head to one side, “What are you talking about? What’s a mark?”

“That! Right there on your cloak.” He was pointing at Crin, the cloak still on his small frame. Sanks had forgotten that there was a mark on it and not on his own armor.

“What is that?” Sanks asked accusingly.

“What?” Crin backed away, hands raised defensively, “I don’t know. This isn’t my cloak!”

“What are you?” the small bandit stepped forward, his old sword in hand.

“I’m just! I’m just a human!”

The bandits were separated, one in front of Sanks and the short one between the two men. Sanks grabbed the latter by the shoulder, his grip a bit tighter than the bandit had expected.

“He’s telling the truth. It’s my cloak.”

[fontasticcrablettes]

Wrote this quick, about 2k, Flynn and Estelle suffering.  Written during Nano so I haven’t taken time to edit or polish or anything.  It’s part of a prompt game I’m playing with @flynns-king-kong-dong

Several armed guards accompanied Estelle down the hallway.  Despite the cuffs around her wrists, she held her head high.  She’d been through too much to be paralyzed with fear of some thieves or whoever they were. The building they were in now was old, with rusty brick walls and stone floors.  It must have been sitting empty a few miles away from the road for some time before this band of brigands took it over.  

She and Flynn had been on their way to Dahngrest when the coach was attacked. They had been prepared for monsters, but Flynn hadn’t anticipated such an organized assault by humans within the Empire. Crossbow bolts had pinned them down and made it difficult to defend against the melee fighters.  Estelle had been swarmed by armed men who cut through the knights to reach her, and they’d dragged her off before she could even see how the battle ended.  

With hands tied and a bag over her head, they’d marched her at sword point to wherever they were now.  For the last hour, she’d sat in a room and worried – not about her own fate, but everyone else.  The last glimpse she’d had of the battle had not been going their way and the thought of Flynn being the last man standing, fighting off dozens of bandits in a hopeless attempt to overpower their numbers, made her heart ache.  He had to be ok, she told herself.  After all, he was Flynn.  He could survive anything!

For herself, she wasn’t too worried.  Throughout her entire childhood, she’d been warned that leaving the castle was too dangerous because of the risk of being kidnapped for ransom, and now every horror story told to scare her into submission was coming true. It meant they probably weren’t planning to kill her, though.  They would need her alive to get money from Ioder, which meant she could focus all her fear on Flynn.  

At the end of the hallway, they turned a corner where a man in nicer clothes waited for them.   He smiled at Estelle, who stubbornly glared back at him.  Her hands were behind her back and she knew she didn’t have time to cast without being tackled and stabbed before finishing, but at least she wouldn’t cower in fear.  She was twenty years old now; not a little baby.  

“Good afternoon, Your Highness,” the man said pleasantly.  “You can call me Alram.  I trust you’ve been well taken care of?”

She took in a sharp breath and scowled at him.  “I have not.  But, the Imperial Knights will be here soon, I expect, so it would be wise to let me go.”

“I don’t think we have to worry too much about them,” Alram said. “They’re hardly going to come looking for you if no one reports to the nearest outpost that the caravan was attacked.”

Estelle’s heart throbbed; Flynn.

“But fear not, young miss.  I have no intention of harming you.”  He moved his fingers under her chin and tipped her head back.  “After all, you’ve got that healing magic. Long term damage to you is pretty impossible, no?”

Estelle glared back at him but didn’t dignify him with a response.  

“You see, that magic of yours is the only thing I’m interested in.  For two years, we’ve been scrounging around without blastia, but there you are, throwing magic around like nothing’s changed.” He pulled his hand away from her with a wrinkled nose and wiped his fingers on his shirt.  “Typical royalty – demanding sacrifices from the lower classes but refusing to give up their luxuries themselves.  Disgusting”

“I haven’t done anything like that.”

“Oh, yeah?  My men saw you cast magic this morning during the battle.  So here’s what I want to know: where is your blastia?”

Her eyebrows knit.  “My… blastia?”

“You’ve got one somewhere.  My men didn’t find anything on you when they searched you, so you’ve got some long distance thing set up?  Or did you swallow it?  How are you doing magic?”

Estelle did her best to puff herself up like a bird.  “Why should I tell you? If you had magic, you’d just use it to hurt more people!”

“Tell me how you do magic and you can leave.  That’s all I want from you.”

On one hand, it was a relief to know for sure what they wanted and that she wouldn’t be stuck here until a random was arranged. On the other, she had no way to give them her magic ability because it entirely came down to being born with that power.  “I’m not telling you anything.”  They weren’t going to kill her, she told herself.  They thought she was their single ticket to magical power; they had to keep her alive.  And they said they weren’t going to hurt her because she could just heal herself.  If she told them it was impossible to give them her magical secret, though, they might kill her since she was useless. The best thing to do would be to hold her tongue and wait for a chance to escape or for rescue.  

To her surprise, Alram smiled at her surprise.  “I figured you would say something like that.  So, I decided to get some insurance in case you were unreasonably stubborn.”

He unlocked the door behind him and entered the dimly lit room.  The guards around Estelle pushed her through the doorway.  The room was lit only by gas lamps set in the wall and had no windows to let in natural light.  There was enough, though, to see what was in the centre of the room.

“Flynn!”  

Flynn sat in a wooden chair with his ankles tied to its legs and his wrists to its arms.  His head snapped up and he gave a shout through the strip of cloth gagging him. The fact that he was alive overjoyed her, but the bloody wound visible through the gash in his black shirt just below his right shoulder reeled it in.  At the very least, he hadn’t been killed in the fight.

The guards around her grabbed her shoulders to keep her from running forward while Alram approached Flynn.  Estelle swallowed nervously as Flynn eyed Alram. Stopping next to him, Alram pulled out a knife and grabbed Flynn’s hair with the other hand.  With the knife hovering in front of Flynn’s face, Alram said, “You’ll be pleased to know the Empire doesn’t train lousy knights, at least.  The commandant here put up a good fight and if he hadn’t turned his back on the fight to try to chase after you, he might have been victorious.  Alas, here we are.  I’m given to understand you have a soft spot for the commandant?”  

Alram pulled Flynn’s head back more to look down at his face.  Estelle bit her lip while clenching and unclenching her hands.  Flynn looked more angry than scared, but she surely had enough fear for the both of them.

“I can see why.  He’s got a handsome face.  Since you’re so fond of it, I’ll give you a chance to tell me how you’re using magic before I start messing it up.”

“I just can!” she blurted.  Maybe they’d kill her if she couldn’t help them, but they would kill Flynn if she didn’t talk at all.  “It’s a power I was born with!  I’ve never used blastia!”

The guards snickered and Alram gave her a tired, annoyed expression, and then jerked Flynn’s head to the side.  He positioned the knife against the back of Flynn’s ear and Estelle screamed as he sliced through it.  Her scream was joined by Flynn’s as his ear dropped to the floor and blood ran down the side of his face.  

“I don’t want a bullshit response like that.”  

Alram released Flynn’s head.  Flynn was still taking sharp, heaving breaths interspersed with small moans.  The whole left side of his head was streaked with blood.

“It’s true!”  She struggled against the guards, eyes locked on Flynn.  “Ask anyone!  Ask Flynn! I don’t use blastia!  I’m a Child of the Full Moon!”

“I don’t want your fairy stories,” Alram said as he wiped his bloody knife on Flynn’s shoulder.  “I want a practical explanation of the method you use to perform magic.  The longer you refuse to explain, the worse this afternoon is going go for the commandant here.”

Estelle shook her head.  “I’m telling the truth!  I don’t have any secret you can us, it’s just a power I was born with!  Please let him go.”

Alram moved his knife under Flynn’s neck and Estelle screamed again, terrified he was about to slit Flynn’s throat. Luckily, all he did was cut through his black turtleneck, all the way to the bottom.  He shoved the sides of the shirt back to Flynn’s shoulders, exposing his chest and the nasty wound on his chest.  

“I want an answer, Highness.”

“I can’t, I can’t.”  She was still shaking her head, tears in her eyes.  

Alram slammed his knife into the arm of the chair, not minding that Flynn’s hand was in the way.  The knife punctured straight through his right hand, and blood welled up around the edges.  Flynn’s shout was muffled through the gag, but the way his fingers went taut and than began shaking and trembling proved how much pain he was in.

“Please!”  Estelle knew that even if the gag was off, Flynn wouldn’t beg.  She wondered if he resented her now begging on his behalf, but she couldn’t help it.  “Please, hurt me instead.  Stop hurting him.”

Alram stood behind Flynn, one hand on his shoulder.  Flynn kept glancing from it, to his own bloody hand, and then to Estelle.  His eyes told her not to worry about him and concentrate on saving herself, but ever since she ran away with Yuri, she’d made a habit of ignoring his orders. Then Alram moved his other hand to Flynn’s injury and pressed two fingers against it.  Flynn grunted and flinched, but the bindings on the chair kept him from throwing Alram off.  

“Well, Highness?”  He pressed again, digging his fingers into the fresh wound.  Flynn’s breaths came short and tight, and as Alram pushed deeper, he clenched his eyes closer.  

“Stop!”  It took all five guards working together to hold Estelle back.  Tears streaked her face.  

He pressed his fingers deep into Flynn, wiggling them back and forth as he went. Flynn jerked with every movement, straining against the ropes.  What began as grunts and moans turned into full-blown screaming and his head thrashed against Alram in a last-ditch effort to push him away.  Estelle screamed, too, partially to cover up Flynn’s which put her through such agony.  

“Stop, stop!” Estelle screamed, endlessly shaking her head.  

Alram shouted over Flynn’s screams.  “This will only stop when you tell me what I want to know, Highness!”

“I don’t know!  I don’t have anything to tell you!  P-please believe me!”  She didn’t know what to do.  Alram would only stop when she gave him what he wanted, but she didn’t have it to give. It was only noon; they had the whole day ahead of them.  Flynn would have to suffer for hours and all she could do was watch.  

Alram pulled his fingers out and Flynn slumped against the chair in relief. Blood flowed freely down his chest and dripped to his shoulder from his lost ear.  Alram wiped his bloody fingers on the crook of Flynn’s neck and then looked back to Estelle.  “And here I thought you were fond of the poor commandant.  Are you really going to let him endure all this?”

“N-no,” she said through tears.  “There’s no secret.  There’s no-nothing to tell.  Please let him go….”

“You can’t pretend you have no magical ability.  Now tell me how you do it.”

“I have!  It isn’t something you’ll ever be able to do!”

“Not until your resolve cracks, at least.”  Alram grabbed the knife and pried it out of the wood and Flynn’s hand, jiggling it as he did.  Blood welled up and ran in rivulets down Flynn’s hand.  Alram smashed the handle of the knife into Flynn’s face and Estelle cringed at the crunching sound.  Blood streamed from Flynn’s broken nose down to his lips and soaked into the gag.  

“Stop hurting him!”  

Alram grabbed Flynn’s hair again and pulled his head up, giving Estelle a good look at his bloodied face.  Flynn’s chest heaved, and he struggled to meet Estelle’s eyes.  He had to suck air in past the gag because his nose was too crushed and bloodied to breathe through.  

“Well, Highness?  Want to explain?”

Estelle shook her head and sniffled. She was powerless to end Flynn’s suffering, and if the guards weren’t holding her, she probably would have slumped to her knees already.  

“Hm… maybe I need to change my tactics to get through to you.  Hensen, go get me a crowbar.”

Flynn moaned and one of the guards left the room.  It was going to be a long day.  

[worryinglyinnocent]

A Once Upon A Time Themed Word Crawl...

Ok, so as you all know, I’ve been doing @still-searching47​‘s amazing OUAT-themed word crawl this Camp NaNo. They also linked me to some other inspirational crawls and basically, I have ended up writing my own.

I haven’t tested this crawl myself, so feedback is welcome.

Here goes!

This is a twenty-step crawl with three difficulty tracks. The tracks are set at the beginning but feel free to switch to another at any point. Halfway through the crawl the tracks are reset, so there is a built in failsafe if you are struggling. You can also split the crawl neatly into two smaller crawls at this point. I really don’t expect anyone to do the whole thing in one sitting but knowing me, I will probably attempt it...

=====

It’s NaNo, and you’re getting ready to start writing your novel. This month, you’ve decided to work on a fairy tale themed novel, so you head over to the library to do some research. A heavy, leather-bound book catches your eye with a gold embossed title: Once Upon A Time. This book is fascinating, with so many fairy tales told in a slightly different way. You’re soon engrossed, but then you feel yourself dropping off…

Suddenly, you’re being flung through a swirling green void at a ludicrous number of miles an hour. The book was a portal into the Enchanted Forest!

The portal dumps you out in the middle of the forest and you check for broken bones. You’re going to need to get some help to get back home to your novel, but it doesn’t look like anyone’s around and you need some transport. Whilst you’re thinking about this, you do a 20 minute word war.

·         If you write under 500 words, it looks like you’re going to just have to rely on your own two feet. Luckily, these boots were made for walking!

·         If you write between 500 and 750 words, fortune favours you with a donkey that comes trotting along, evidently having lost its owner. It’s not the most comfortable of mounts, but it’ll be quicker than your feet.

·         If you write over 750 words, you hear the rumbling of wheels coming along the road and dive into the undergrowth to avoid being run over. The cart stops to investigate a fallen tree, and you hitch a lift on the running board.

You find yourself heading in the direction of the Forbidden Fortress. You hope that Maleficent isn’t home but a gout of dragon fire from the sky puts paid to that. Looks like you need to sprint to avoid her wrath!

·         If you’re on foot, sprint 300 words

·         If you’re on the donkey, sprint 400 words

·         If you’re on the cart, sprint 500 words

Phew! You’re safe for now, but all kinds of other creatures are lurking in the Enchanted Forest and you move on quickly to avoid meeting any of them. Too late, you hear a rustling in the trees… Time to stop, drop, and roll! Roll a dice and write x100 words.

Phew! It turns out that the rustling isn’t anything nasty. It’s Bandit Princess Snow, checking her traps. She agrees to help you get home, but you need to prove yourself trustworthy. Write to your next 500 word milestone to prove to her that you’re a NaNo Writer.

Snow thinks that the key to getting you home might be hidden in the Evil Queen’s castle. Before you get there, though, you have to cross the troll bridge. You don’t have any treasure, but you offer a wager instead. If you can write a certain amount in a 10 minute word war, you can pass.

·         If you’re on foot, you must write 150 words

·         If you’re on the donkey, you must write 200 words

·         If you’re on the cart, you must write 250 words

The trolls are feeling benevolent so if you fail to hit the target, you can write for an extra five minutes until you hit it. If you still fail to hit the target, it’s ok - Snow brains one of the trolls with a rock and you escape.

You soon reach a village where you stop for supplies. You take some time to chat with the locals and make sure you’re on the right track. Finish your current scene.

It turns out that this is the village where Granny and Red live, and they offer to help you get into the castle during the full moon. There’s a little while to wait before nightfall so you write half your daily word count goal to pass the time.

You break into the castle and start tiptoeing around, looking for some way of getting back to your own world. Unfortunately, the Magic Mirror spots you and raises the alarm so you’re going to have to be quick! There’s no time to correct any typos now - time for the Fifty-Headed Hydra!

The Evil Queen’s guards are catching up with you. One grabs you and Snow and bundles you off down a corridor before revealing himself. It’s the Huntsman, and he buys you some time, sending you down a secret passage that will take you to the Evil Queen’s chamber, where you’ll find the last of the magic beans.

·         If you made your journey on foot, you need to write 1% of your current word count to find the bean

·         If you made your journey on the donkey, you need to write 2% of your current word count to find the bean

·         If you made your journey on the cart, you need to write 3% of your current word count to find the bean

With the bean secure, you sneak out of the castle. This is the kind of adventure that needs a good soundtrack! Luckily your iPod/phone/CD player/gramophone came with you to the Enchanted Forest. Put your music on shuffle and write for the duration of the next song.

The bean is the key to getting you home safely, but unfortunately, as you’re putting it in your pocket ready to take it to a safe place and use it, you drop it. Before you can curse your butterfingers, there’s another portal opening up beneath you. Hold onto your hat, close your eyes and do a 15 minute word war as you wonder where you’re going to end up!

·         If you write under 400 words, you open your eyes to green as far as the eye can see. You’ve landed in Oz.

·         If you write between 400 and 600 words, you open your eyes to something akin to a hallucinogen trip. You’ve landed in Wonderland.

·         If you write over 600 words, you open your eyes to murky jungle and creepy shadows. You’ve landed in Neverland.

Dang it, you were so close to getting home and now you’re stranded in yet another strange land! But there’s no time to lose - you can hear people getting closer and you’re pretty sure they’re foe not friend. Don’t worry, you can outrun them if you reach your next milestone.

·         If you’re in Oz, the flying monkeys are bearing down on you, but they’ll tire when you reach your next 500 word milestone.

·         If you’re in Wonderland, the playing card soldiers are chasing you, but you’ll be able to hide in the maze when you reach your next 1000 word milestone.

·         If you’re in Neverland, you’re surrounded by Lost Boys, but they’ll give up trying to shake you out of your tree when you reach your next 1500 word milestone.

Well, that chase took it out of you, and you need time to recover before you set about getting home again. You do the 3-digit challenge whilst you get your breath back.

You can’t afford to get too complacent though - these new worlds are dangerous places. You need to move quickly - it’s time for another quick sprint to avoid the big bad...

·         If you’re in Oz, sprint 200 words to escape Zelena

·         If you’re in Wonderland, sprint 350 words to escape Cora

·         If you’re in Neverland, sprint 500 words to escape Peter Pan

The good thing about all these different worlds is that there are a lot of ways to travel between them. All you have to do is find one. To do that, it’s time for a 30 minute word war.

·         If you’re in Oz, you need to write 750 words to find the silver slippers. If you don’t reach the goal, you try again for 40 minutes. If you still don’t reach the goal, fear not - Dorothy arrives in the Emerald City with the silver slippers.

·         If you’re in Wonderland, you need to write 1000 words to find the White Rabbit. If you don’t reach the goal, you try again for 40 minutes. If you still don’t reach the goal, fear not - the White Rabbit pops up out of his burrow beside you.

·         If you’re in Neverland, you need to write 1250 words  to find some pixie dust. If you don’t reach the goal, you try again for 40 minutes. If you still don’t reach the goal, fear not - Tinker Bell climbs your tree and gives you some pixie dust.

You’re safely back in the Enchanted Forest. Ok, so using a bean to get home didn’t work. Maybe Rumpelstiltskin can help you - for a price of course. You set out towards the Dark Castle, hoping to strike a deal. It’s a long journey, so it looks like you’ll be able to manage the 1K1HR challenge whilst you’re on your way. If you fancy a thrilling soundtrack, you can always make it into the Epic Music Writing Hour instead. Either way - it’s an hour and it’s a target of 1K.

You reach the Dark Castle, thankfully without incident. It looks like Rumpelstiltskin isn’t at home, but Belle welcomes you and makes you some tea. She lets you look in her library for clues as to how to get home. Write a number of words equivalent to the number of pages in the nearest book.

Belle’s books don’t hold the key to getting back home so you’re going to have to try elsewhere. The Enchanted Forest is a big place, and it’s going to take you a while to find someone else who can help you. Write your daily word count goal.

Suddenly a bell sounds in the distance and you can hear Grumpy the dwarf calling out a warning. It’s coming! Looking over the horizon you can see that the Dark Curse is rolling into view in a murky cloud. You know it will take you back to the Land Without Magic where you started, but you don’t want to end up in Storybrooke with no memory of your adventure or the novel you’ve begun writing.

To get home and keep your memories, you’ll need to keep writing as fast as you can:

·         If you went to Oz, do a 10 minute word war

·         If you went to Wonderland, do a 15 minute word war

·         If you went to Neverland, do a 20 minute word war

You’re finally back home after your wild adventure in the Enchanted Forest. You’ve certainly got a lot to write about now, but it’s time for the library to close and for you to go home. Finish off the day with a round number. Write to your next 200 word milestone to finish the crawl.

[genderneutralpalladium]

Borg O.C.C.-Rifts 11th printing 1998 (Edited as shown)

“Borg” is the popular slang term for cyborg. Cyborgs are men and women [people] who have been surgically augmented with machines for the purpose of war. The combat design and intent is the main aspect that separates bionics from cybernetics, even though the basic principles are the same. Another difference is that subjects for the bionic augmentation are not, as a rule, replacing missing or damaged body parts with mechanical replacements, but allowing perfectly good, functioning limbs and organs to be surgically removed and substituted with mechanical counterparts. A rather extreme and grisly thing to do if you stop to think about it. Of course, bionic technology is so developed that a complete binonic conversion (all limbs plus implants) can be performed in just under 8 hrs, and, it is said, with minimal discomfort to the subject.

While it is true that bionic reconstruction is virtually painless, the person is giving up a portion of his their humanity forever. The bionic limbs are obviously mechanical, can not be cosmetically concealed, and can never be replaced with real flesh and blood structures, only bionic ones. The psychological impact can be devastating; consequently, most willing participants undergo a thorough psychiatric evaluation and hours of consultation to prepare them for their new life. Those who are properly prepared live long and happy lives. A surprising 89% are completely adjusted to life as a living machine. However, there are unscrupulous tyrants, slavers, and high tech bandits who capture unwilling subjects for bionic conversion for use as slaves, laborers, or warriors. Of slave-borgs, only 32% are content with their transformation. 21% will attempt suicide over and over again.

Coalition Borgs

The Coalition has only begun utilizing borgs in the last few years and these are limited to a few elite troops and the occasional officer. Bionics, especially full conversion, goes against the mentality of the human purists; however, limited use of bionic conversion has been authorized. All Coalition borgs are volunteers. 40% are soldiers who were injured in combat, 20% are healthy volunteers, and the remaining 40% are human mercenaries who have volunteered and enlisted for the mandatory six years of service. Borgs who go AWOL are hunted down and destroyed on the spot. At this time, the Coalition does not create slave-borgs; however, the Emperor is considering the possibility.

Borg citizens must be registered with CS authorities. Registration records the borg’s current place of residence, family, employer, and bionic capabilities. The same is true of temporary mercenary laborers occasionally hired to work in the city. Military personnel are authorized registered.

Partial Bionic Reconstruction

Partial bionic reconstruction means that the trunk of the body, neck, and head remain human. The two legs, feet, hands, and arms are completely removed and replaced with mechanical limbs. The pelvis/hip area, shoulders, collarbone, and spine are reinforced with metal rods and cybernetic implants to support the new bionic additions. Weak or sickly looking internal organs, especially the heart and lungs, are likely to be replaced with guaranteed cybernetic constructs as well (1-70% likelihood). If the lungs are replaced, they will have all the cybernetic options (see cybernetics section for lings and internal organs).

Partial reconstruction for military purposes usually include at least minor eye, hearing, and sensory enhancements, as well as a handful of bionic weapons. See Bionic Section for exact bionic systems.

Partial reconstruction for slave labor will seldom include any sensory, hearing, or optical enhancements, and never include bionic weapons. What is desire in slave-borgs is raw strength and endurance. Anything more would make the slaves too dangerous. Of course, weapon systems can be added later.

Full Bionic Conversion

Full bionic conversion means the character is over 90% machine. The entire body has been replaced with a mechanical one. The remaining human parts are restricted to the brain, often, but not always, the face, and few other original human components, especially the tongue, throat, and head. The rest of the body has been discarded and the few himan component kept are placed in a bionic body. The body is effectively a fully functioning robot that responds to the human brain with the precision of the flesh and blood body. The internal workings of the new body systems are strangely similar to the human body with scores if tubing carrying life sustaining fluids. Electro-magnetic relays and nano-technological workings make up the rest of the internal system. The new body is hundreds of times more durable, faster, stronger, and deadlier.

Full conversion for military purposes means the best optics systems, hearing, headjack, and weapons. Physical capabilities are generally taken near the maximum, and the mechanized warrior is outfitted with five bionic weapons.

Full conversion for slave labor means the subject has basic or optimal enhancements and no weapons or other sensory enhancement (unless it specifically relates to the labor).

Psionics and P.P.E.: A person who possesses psionics will retain his their psi-powers only in the case of partial bionic reconstruction and even then, I.S.P. is permanently reduced by half. Full conversion destroys all psionic essence. Scientists do not understand why this is, but specilate that the psionic essence is somehow linked to the physical body, as well as the mind.

Likewise, no borg, partial or full, can operate techno-wizardry devices nor practice magic. However, borgs do enjoy a bonus to save versus magic of +3 and are impervious to psionic bio-manipulation and see aura. P.P.E.: Virtually nonexistent. 1D4.

Skills of the Slave-Borg

The slave-borg will have the skills and knowledge of whatever O.C.C. he or she they may have been before the conversion. Most slave-borgs are simple people with few formal skills and little to no education.

A typical slave-borg comes from a peasant background and gas the following skills: Hand to Hand: Basic (can increase to expert at the cost of two other skills or martial arts for three), cook, dance, fishing, pilot automobile or truck (pick one), lore:demon ir faerie (pick one), W.P. Blunt, and can speak American (96%) and two other languages at 75% proficiency.

At first level the slave-borg can select four “other” skills, each with a 5% bonus.

The character can also select four Secondary Skills withiut benefit of bonuses. At third and eighth levels an additional two Secondary Skills can be selected.

Available categories are limited to any: Communications: Radio:Basic; Domestic, Medical: holistic medicine or first aid only, Physical (any except acrobatics, gymnastics, boxing, and SCUBA), Pilot, Pilot Related, Rogue (excluding computer hacking), Science: Basic math only, Technical (excluding all computer), W.P., and Wilderness. Any of the skills are available unless otherwise stated.

Standard Equipment for the Runawa Slave-Borg

May or may not wear clothing, but is likely to wear mega-damage body armor. Also has a backpack, a coupke sacks, utility/ammo belt, sunglasses or tinted goggles, air filter or gas mask, and personal items.

Weapons will include a couple knives, and two other weapons of choice. Cannot use techno-wizardry weapons.

Vehicle is limited to horse ir non-military vehicles such as hover vehicles, motorcycle or car. Often goes for inconspicuous looking vehicles.

Money: the character starts out with no crefit and 2D4x1000 in salable black market items.

Cybernetics and Bionics: Basic; see previous descriptions. Can upgrade whenever he/she they can afford to and a cyber-doc and bionics are available.

Skills of a Coalition Borg or a Military Mercenary Borg

The mercenary combat borg was created for combat and has undergone some basic military training. The following Coalition Military skills are known.

Radio: Basic (+10%)

Pilot Hovercraft (+10%)

Pilot Tank and APC (+5%)

Read Sensory Equipment (+10%)

Weapon Systems (+5%)

Climbing (+5%)

W.P. Energy Pistol

W.P. Energy Rifle

W.P. Two of choice

Hand to Hand: Expert

At first level the borg can select six “other” skills, each with a +5% bonus, and speaks American and one other language at 96%. The character characte can also select eight secondary skills without the benefit of bonuses. At fourth and eighth levels select an additional two secondary skills.

Available skill categories are limited to: Communication, Domestic, Electrical: Basic only, Mechanical: Automotive only, Military, Medical: First Aid only, Physical (any except acrobatics and boxing), Pilot, Pilot Related, Science: Math only, Technical, and W.P. Any if the skills are available unless otherwise stated.

Standard Equipment: Coalition Borg and Mercenary Borg

Modified Coalition “Dead Boy” armor suitable for the bulk of a borg or conventional cyborg armor for the merc, energy side arm, energy rifle and field equipment. Additional equipment may be available upon assignment, same as the Coalition Grunt. However, borgs are seldom issued robot vehicles, never SAMAS power armor, and usually restricted to hover vehicles and motorcycles. In most cases, the borg does not need a vehicle unless traveling great distances or needs great speed. Money for a Coalition Borg is 2400 credits a month and the usual military benefits. Plus the Coalition pays fir the entire bionic conversion, but the borg must pledge to enlist for a minimum of six years. Longer service is rewarded with additional bionics. Borgs are considered a new elite force in the Coalition Army.

Coalition Borg standard bionic capabilities: Full bionic conversion (seldom a partial unless requested by Coalition officer); P.S.:28, P.P. 20, average speed 132 (90mph/148 km/h), built in language translator and the standard items described in the Bionic Section full bionic conversion for military purposes.

Vehicles for mercenary borgs are limited to non-military hover vehicles or souped-up motorcycle, truck, or, car.

Money: The mercenary borg starts out with 6D6x100 in credit and 1D4x1000 in salable black market items. Note that mercenary borgs can often make big dollars in areas of military conflict and a exterminators in areas plagued by supernatural beings, magic, or psychics. The Coalition sometimes hires borg mercenaries at 3000 credits a month, plus free room and board and free bionics cleaning and maintenance (repairs, not new bionics).

Cybernetics: Starts with none. Tend to avoid implants in favor of natural powers. [??? Why is this phrased like this instead of large portions of the body are already cybernetic or see previous descriptions?]

[aparticularbandit]

wanted another 100 words to hit word count and ended up doing a little more than a thousand.  oh well.  new drabble?  maybe?  at some point?  once i figure out where it’s going?  or maybe even if i don’t? @andtherewerefireworks i blame you for this one.

[aparticularbandit]

things i want to write (but don’t know if will actually do):

solano family (i have this very clear idea of family dinners at holiday time with emilio + rose; rafael + petra; and luisa (sometimes maybe with allison, sometimes maybe not)

and possibly with carla sitting somewhere in the background making commentary and luisa ignoring her because i do love carla (but this doesn’t really fit with what i plan to do with her SO probably no carla)

sin rostro trio (mostly clara/rose with derek because i think they got up to shenanigans and clara just didn’t turn off and derek just she is SO pretty; she is THE best and elena sitting over somewhere like she is your sister and derek just that is NOT what i meant mom)

but also the idea that sin rostro was the faceless because it wasn’t just rose; it was all three of them working together, so that any one of them could show up and do something while the other was preoccupied.

rose was just the most direct and hands on.  (and really, a lot of the start up probably came from elena’s contacts)

and derek was less involved because he was elena’s special boy child thing and she wanted to protect him and she didn’t really care that much about clara.

but also mutter knew how a woman should act in these situations and she could pass that down to clara, but she couldn’t really pass that down to derek.

and also the idea that rose and derek worked together to bring elena down because derek just loved rose and neither of them liked being under elena’s thumb and unable to live their own lives and derek was totally on board with that plan.

you know except for the whole death thing, and i could maybe be convinced she didn’t physically kill him but that he, as derek ruvelle, died.  and that either she kept that a secret from luisa (not likely because rose definitely cares more about luisa than she does about derek) or she explained the situation to luisa and luisa lied to rafael (also uncertain).

so debate on the whether or not derek is dead bit.

seriously just this idea of elena face-palming over clara/derek shenanigans.

elena di nola and the clara/luisa and derek/rafael debacle.

and by this i mean that there are a lot of parallels between clara and luisa and between derek and rafael

the idea that elena was specifically trying to make a family empire and that she would have tried to do that with luisa and rafael (if emilio hadn’t figured shit out and sent her away)

and really i think emilio may have made the mutter connection but they parted ways with him having her drug lord secret and she having his art trafficking secret and neither really being able to move against the other

although obviously she found a way to move against him so YOLO

the idea that luisa would not have worked and that was part of the reason she was okay leaving (also having less of a connection with rafael perhaps, but i feel like that’s walking a thin line)

because rafael and derek she would’ve had since birth, so she could shape them however she wanted (which is why even grown up, there’s a lot of similarities between them)

but luisa and clara were already six/seven (luisa was six when mia “died” but could’ve had a birthday by the time she met elena.  it’s not likely, but it’s possible.  i do think she was seven by the time elena and emilio married) and eight/nine (i tend to think of clara as three years younger than luisa because bridget is three years younger than yara; so she would’ve been four at most when emilio and elena got married, then assuming rafael was born in 1984 and elena left on his fourth birthday, clara would have been eight when elena left emilio, and i don’t think she took more than a year to remarry, especially when she found what she wanted), respectively

a lot of luisa and clara’s shaping would have already begun before elena got hold of them; and while there are definite luisa/rose parallels, rose is also a sociopath and luisa is not, and elena could perhaps more easily use that unique set of attributes for what she wanted to do

also university au

mostly because i have, like, three very distinct scenes in my head

train bridge

the shooting (concert)

flower shop

and i actually have an extended university world kind of ready built with npcs etc. so it’s just getting it started, i guess

problem being that this would probably be very npc heavy because i’d want to get into the other stories with the other characters and that might be easier to do as a collection with different stories/series/etc. that just interlock from different fandoms

which i think would be cool but also super complicated and probably take way more planning than i really want to do right now but it keeps sitting in my head so idk

[aparticularbandit]

typed up the new “first chapter” of the pokemon au.  it expanded a bit, so it doesn’t feel as rough, and the focus is much more clearly on mia instead of trying to shift between her and luisa and emilio, which i like.  i think that’s good, because i think this first chapter - or prologue, if it ends up more like that, because i think, hm, idk.  idk if i want to try and do a few chapters of emilio/mia/luisa or if i just want an extended first chapter that covers all of the mia stuff in little momentary shots - i think it does need to focus on mia and elaborate more on her relationship with emilio than it does on luisa, who is there, and who is important, obviously, but the mia/emilio conflict is really the driving point initially, and that, to some extent, ends up defining the luisa/emilio conflict, because after mia dies, luisa is all emilio has left of mia (who he did love) and a lot of his continued patience with her and overprotection of her is as a result of that. but anyway.  i’m musing.  XD despite not liking emilio (because i tend to believe that rose is younger than luisa is - not just because bridget is younger than yara is but because rose acts younger, she feels younger, particularly in the submarine scene, it’s just this very clear...feel.  to me at least), he’s still.  intriguing?  to me?  like i don’t like him, and i’m not interested in him, but he kind of makes sense.  not entirely.  but kind of. and it’s worth pointing out that luisa tends to compare raf negatively to their father the same way raf negatively compares her to her mother.  but this is distracting from the main hey look i did work on the pokemon au bit.  XD bandit is tired.  ><;;;;;

[aparticularbandit]

started the soulmate exploratory drabble. interested in seeing how it does once it’s posted. the ideas are valid, and i think the execution works, but if the ideas don’t come through clearly, some of you might really hate it. but i don’t want to blank explain the concept. so.

[aparticularbandit]

me @ me: how fucked up can i make this soulmate au.

[aparticularbandit]

the first chapter of clara’s pokemon au is now up.

pokemon featured under the cut.

spitfire, clara’s talonflame:

diantha’s hawlucha:

artie, clara’s shiny zorua:

elena’s (alolan) persian:

other pokemon mentioned:

goldeen:

poliwag:

surskit:

charizard:

rhyhorn:

[aparticularbandit]

did some more work on the next chapter of iylhybhn.  it’s almost 3800 words long (only a little bit shorter).  it’s going...weird?  definitely want to do a lot of editing.

but rose gets a pov and also we get to meet another inmate so.  there’s that, at least?

[aparticularbandit]

also started the roisa pokemon au fic because i could.

[aparticularbandit]

2372 more words in the new chapter of iylhybhn.  this went a lot more smoothly than the attempt at writing in the one shot so.  probably going to stick with this for a bit.