#broken isles tag

[themoonstonechronicler]

this wip will be the death of me. why is this so hard to draw

[airborneice]

@sketchbookweek Day 6 - Fairy Isle/Witches' Tower / Halloween

*takes out my conspiracy theory board* you can't PROVE they didn't meet as very small children on like some trip to Tofoten and then johanna forgor. also i just wanted to make a ponyo reference with these two ngl

[teapottroubles]

Hi! I promise the absence here is just because I've been zeroed in on Artfight and the last of my schooling ! I swear I'm alive !

Also summer sucks the soul out of me and kills my motivation to do like, anything. I was not built for the heat, and it shows ! Bare with me !

[gaylos-lobos]

the fact that if it weren’t for the isles luz and camilas relationship could have easily been torn apart over time, the fact that if you are an outsider coming into gravesfield the wolves will hunt you down if you don’t act according to them, the fact that you have to wear the wolves pelt or they will hunt you like a deer

[maochira]

Hi! Could you do bllk big brothers watching their little sibling get married/walking them down the isle? If not, that's okay!

Sure I can do that!

gn!younger sibling!reader, big brother!characters

He's crying. A lot. You've never seen him cry this much. He's a literal waterfall. With every step you take he becomes more of a mess.

Tokimitsu, NANASE, Kuon, Lorenzo, Ness

He barely keeps himself together, but you can see him holding back tears. As soon as the ceremony is over and he gets to talk to you on his own he bursts out in tears because he just can't believe how much you've grown up.

BAROU!!!, ISAGI, Reo, Kunigami

He doesn't show how emotional he is, but on the inside he remembers all the times you ran to him with a broken heart. He's glad you finally found someone you want to spend the rest of your life with.

Chigiri, Nagi, RAICHI, also Barou

His grip on your hand as he walks you down the isle is insanely tight. Sure, your brother is strong. But he's never held your hand this tight. It's almost as if he's afraid to let you go because he doesn't want you to take the next stage into your adult life. In his eyes, you're stillthe little kid that needs to be protected by him.

Barou again, KUNIGAMI!!!, Raichi, JUNICHI AND KEISUKE, Kaiser

Remember to reblog with tags if you enjoyed this! It's the best and easiest way to support me and my writing!

[dogbites-puppylove]

Yandere Batfam: Incentives

TW: description of yandere mentalities and actions (obsession, possessive tendencies, stalking, etc)

Tags: Yandere! Batfam x reader

Bruce Wayne: The Epitome of a Hero

Batman without fail has proven himself a near-perfect hero, impressive for the fact that he's first generation and had tackled Gotham's cursed land. But obviously, as with any being on earth, the stress of the facade weighs on him. The stretch between the isle of Bruce Wayne and the Scowl of Batman no longer cut clean. They blur and tear at him ravenously until he sometimes feels he is nothing but a ghost of obsession, of a boy in the middle of an alley with his parent's blood puddled around his knees.

Bruce, in essence, needs something to define himself, he is a man who cares for his partners painfully (each robin has chiseled a part of himself out) and yet he cannot choose them over his city (over his villains). He has nobody else to define who he is, he is nothing without them and as much as he loves being their father the cowl is the only thing he has left of what was once an unbreakable will

The darling plays a sort of anchor, a guide, a definition that Bruce can cling onto. For Bruce who cannot say confidently that he can live truly as either a civilian or a hero without regret, his darling is all he has to cling to. For even should he forsake his sacred code that defines him, forsake his morals that he clings to, and go off the deep end never to return he can still manage to drench himself in you. 

You're in his bones, his flesh, and on his lips at all times of the night and day, the cowl and fatherhood are at his core and as they conflict, chipping away at him and forcing him into nothing but a broken mess you seep into the cracks and fill him up until all of him is nothing but you, you, you. Your scorn, your praise, all of what you say, you're what he can finally define himself off of.

It doesn't matter if your nails drag into his skin as a punishment, or even if you carve your woes into his flesh with a knife. He will take them as his law all the same he will revere your kisses, your soft touches, and your smiles. His unbreakable will is nothing in the end as long as he has you.

You have him in the palm of his hand, your word is law, you define who he is with your mood, whether he is a failure and must strive to be better or whether he can finally rest is all up to you.

Even from a young age when childhood should have been grass stains and scraped knees, Dick has always known an audience's eyes and dizzying heights. He knows his role, his actions and his expressions are all being watched, and taken into account and he knows best how to play the role of the easily lovable. Responsibility and acting all of this have been him forever, he's a natural at it. Basically, its second nature for him to mold himself into the one everyone likes, he knows the script and he plays it well

Richard Grayson: The golden boy

His entire life has been a role, something that he has to put his all into acting, the perfect robin, the leader of the titans, the leader of the young justice league, Nightwing-the vigilante who garners the respect of heroes and law alike. It is a tightrope walk of never-ending smiles and actions and if he slips it all comes crashing down and he cannot risk it. If he bows to the weight on his shoulders, even if it's all too much he has far too much to lose. Of course, he loves being loved, and he genuinely does love his family, loves his pseudo father and his little brothers and his friends but he knows who they love and it might not be him as a person.

The darling for him is a slow burn. a t first their a sort of self-fulfillment, just a little fix of appreciation from his favorite person, but the more he visits them, the more he drops some prefixes, is able to be a little rougher around the edges he gets lost in it, the brunt of his feelings finally flooding out from the cracks in his perfect facade and you're his addiction. He needs you to need him, to like him, to adore him he needs you to approve of who he is without the flashing lights and cameras. It's a strange mix of needing your approval to prove that he's still balancing, that the weight hasn't yet managed to take hold and drag him down, and needing you to see the fact that he is a broken grieving man. He's been used and weaponized and he just needs to know that outside of that Richard Grayson is still useable, love him outside of his role, be his everything meld your existence into his he's begging you

It comes to a point that he can almost no longer separate where you begin and where he ends, and he's never felt so intoxicated, so in love, because if love isn't the way he can barely focus, his brain clouding over and the way he basically turns into an animal for you, your loyal little dog he doesn't know what could possibly count. As long as he has your praise, your approval, and your need for him he's a brainless pet. Just love him, love him, love him or he might finally fall. 

What many forget about the second robin is though he is the robin who crosses the lines others won't, the one who sees things to a more permanent end, Jason is the one who is more in tune with his emotions. They overwhelm him and lead him more than rationality but Jason has emotions, he bares his heart on his sleeve, and others are simply too blind to see it. Perhaps it's because of this strange self-awareness, of how fucked he is, how broken he is that he cannot delude himself in the same way his family does. He cannot seem to meld himself with you(how could something like him even think of being one with someone like you), but he's so desperate for the connection. 

Jason Todd: The monster

In comparison to the other robins, Jason understands that he is replaceable. It's so easy to swap him out with any other broken street rat, hell he might even argue it would be an improvement. He's watched Gotham from its sewer, eyes glancing over crime alleys streets from broken street lights as a child, how women were beaten into submission by men with too much audacity and beer on their breath, how good men would be turned to corpses and looted, how children stood on corners and Gotham nods her head because his city is nothing it not vile and rotten in its core

He has known death intimately and hates life just a little bit more because there isn't anything he can feel truly justifies how Gotham lets the sewage and filth thrive. He's never had the luxury of childhood, of the safety of a child's innocence because he's aware that life isn't a gift, it's a cesspool of sin prepping souls on earth for hell. There's nothing good, but there are people who need protection from it and Jason goes about his days repenting for existing because there's no divinity, no god other than the men who see themselves on the top of the chain. There's no god before you.

His darling is a light, something near untouchable, someone who can do no wrong. Jason is the type of delusional where he can justify every single thing Darling can ever say or do, say the skies green and he’ll rearrange the dictionary just to prove you right. You in a sense define what is good or evil, something invaluable, something so good that they could even pity him. A benevolent deity bestowed open Gotham and he'd be damned if he let anything from the street touch you. Jason is the robin who came back wrong, the killer, the monster, the black sheep of the family of maniacs who want better from the world, and he's disgusting but he'll do anything for you.

In a sick way, he already knows well how his presence is painfully unworthy of you, but he longs, craves, and hungers for you all the same. He's reverent in his treatment. If he cannot connect with you by becoming one he'll be your loyal slave, your servant to the ends of the earth, his hands are already stained but even his own sins become virtues if there for you. He lives and breathes on you, everything he does is for you until the dead bodies piling his work are but offerings, sacrifices all for you. Carve a place in your body for him to reside, for him to leash himself upon so he can hide and forever more belong to you. A Divine and their monster acolyte. 

Tim is a being born of neglect, constant patronization, rejection, and scorn. His only sense of motivation had been at first obsession without a sense of preservation. Tim has always known nothing but a world where he has to be able to provide to earn his right to stay, to exist. He knows intimately what it's like to be looked through, to be invisible, to have his own name replaced with another, or to have never been born, so like money he exchanges himself and all his actions in a transactional way. Every relationship for him is a simple give and take, he gives them what they want, and they let him stay and remember his name. As long as Tim is functioning and working he can't be thrown away, can't be truly invisible. As long as he is working he is kept.

Tim Drake: The Forgotten 

Tim is smart, he knows how to run the table, and play the game and he does it well, he knows exactly how to pick apart everyone around him. Tears into them and learns, absorbs, and sees what they need, how he needs to act, what he needs to provide, and remakes himself for the sake of their approval. From the constant twists and turns of his character, Tim knows how to seek out the role, how to play it, how to thrive in it, Tim sees everything, and thus he is left feeling empty because nobody sees him. Something carnal in him screams for something, anything to tear him apart as well, to meet his obsession with their own.

His darling is someone who he needs to ruin him, he needs them to dissect him, to cut him up and tear away everything and covet his entrails. He's begging you to tear away at him, until Red Robin is nothing until Drake Wayne is but a far away title, and see him, see Time in all he is. Obsessive, disgusting, and desperate. He needs his darling to keep digging even as they see this and decide he's good enough to continue unraveling, to rip him open and keep something of him in your pocket.

As is apparent the relationship with his darling is almost masochistic in a way, with a clear power dynamic but what is to be noted is that while he is desperate he will never truly give up control. He knows when he is being manipulated, but he thrives on it, that you've picked him apart and have decided him worthy to manipulate, you get what he allows but he allows a lot for you. He wants his darling to devour him whole, to stitch themselves into a Frankenstein monster just as he has with them. Take on his mannerisms, remember his coffee order, his eye color, anything. He'd thrive just knowing they have a photo of him somewhere in their pocket. (as if it equates to the massive amounts of video he has on you, the photos, the cameras, the trackers, the microphones, the bugs, and chips)he just needs you to know who he is. He needs you to prove that Timothy Drake truly exists. 

What most cannot see off the bat due to confident words and even more confident actions is that the most familiar feeling Damian is acquainted with is unsurity. He is a being born with a purpose, and the purpose was not to be human, it was to be heir, to be a leader to be everything that he needed to be. His life is a mix of criteria he needs to meet, of missions and proving himself and needing to be perfect, needing the validation of praise and a good grade. He is the heir of a league of assassins and yet he can no longer kill, he is the protege of a notorious hero and yet he contemplates lethality for too much, day in and day out Damian defines himself by this conflict and with true humanity alluding him, he cannot tell truly who he is. 

Damian Wayne: The heir 

The source of his need for competency comes from fear of inadequacy. Because if he cannot fit the criteria given, if he cannot prove himself worthy then does he even have the right to exist? When he has been born for a role he can no longer call his own, where does that leave him? Lost, he's lost and wandering and he thinks something is rotting in him. It plagues him, the fact that Damian Wayne is a leader, son, brother,heir but not human.

His darling in his case plays the role of safe haven, a little home in the form of flesh and blood where he can bury himself alive. He needs the surety they bring, there is no throne, no rubric or evaluation, there is only their own eyes and lips and Damian's own heart in their hands. They are his humanity, if Damian is a role then they are his wants and needs, they are his tears and very heart, he's sure if he could tear his chest open his darling would be there, cradled precisely within his ribs. In their arms Damian feels so painfully useless that he remembers he too has lungs that need air, that he too has basic needs, he feels helpless and ragged and he thinks that this sort of helplessness can be nothing but love.

Darling is living proof that Damian Wayne has something to himself outside of Robin, outside of al-Ghul, and outside of his last name. He is flawed, he sleeps and dreams and cries and is so very weak. He eats from the palm of your hand, everything that makes him disgustingly weak, mortal, he's putty in your hands, even if you were to feed him poison he would drink greedily. The thought of death, the foe that drove his grandfather to the pits over and over again, feels no harder than a feather brush with your arms around him.

Alfred: extra 

Apologies 

He is far too old to fancy himself a darling, and far too sensible to feel infatuation as strongly as his wayward family but he can care, and he can love and he would do anything for his family as he always has

Of course, he feels bad, lucid as he is he can see how they covet you, how they stress you and pull you so thin you might disappear but he cannot let you go, he hopes you forgive him.

He does pity you, is fond of you and your softer nature in the cave of monsters that lurk around for you as their sole prey and he’ll protect you as much as he can but ever since they've had you the manor has a bit lighter and they've smiled so much more he cannot truly let you go

He’ll provide everything but freedom, he'll coddle you through the transition and until he too must take his place in a grave but he begs of you to stay by his family of beasts

You're his only hope 

Author's Note: Dipping my toes back into writing - if this seems familiar it's because it's a reupload! I was previously known as lovesick laboratories but my mental health took a nose dive but I'm back!

Tags: yandere batfam, yandere dc, yandere batfam x reader, bruce wayne x reader, dick grayson x reader, jason todd x reader, tim drake x reader, damian wayne x reader

[the-golden-comet]

✨⛵️Story/WIP Tour Tag ⛵️✨

Oh, what a fun concept! Thank you for tagging me, @theink-stainedfolk !!

I’m not sure I can convince you about the lovely landmarks in Peter Hart , but— there’s a rope around me. Oh. We don’t have a choice in this adventure, do we?

Peter: Clever. You catch on quick~!

Ahoy, mates. Captain Hart at the helm now. I’ll be your tour guide for the voyage. Please keep your arms on the deck at all times. Do not lean on the railing; if you go overboard we’re not coming to fish you out….unless you’re Benjamin.

Benjamin: HEY!! 😡

Right, let’s get started:

✨🇬🇧Port Mayor🇬🇧✨

On your left, you will notice we are passing by Port Mayor, Great Britain. A lovely fishing port run by an absolute bastard of a person. Make sure on your stop you steal a hearty handful from the Royal’s pockets, and try their regional specialty: Port Plum Pudding. Great for the season.

🌋Isle of Talon Rock🌋

Oh, this one’s a lovely sightseeing adventure! Talon Rock is an inactive volcano in the center of thick jungle. Do watch your feet for snakes; they are quite venomous here. The igneous walls of the lava tubes are home to a variety of rich gems, but make sure you vacate before high tide if you don’t want to get your clothes wet.

✨🇬🇧Portsmouth🇬🇧✨

We arrive at another port. Excellent tailor at this location; this is where I picked out most of Benjamin’s fashion.

Benjamin: I didn’t ASK for—

—You’re welcome. If you get a chance, make sure to piss in the rose garden of the sovereign that governs this port.

✨🪨Echoing Cove🪨✨

This one looks deceptive at first glance, but a trove of valuables rests deep enough inside the many underwater cave systems. You’ll have to do a little spelunking, but if you reach deep enough the treasures are ripe for the taking~

Benjamin: Peter…why do I hear voices?

—AAAAAAAND we are getting the fuck out of here~🏴‍☠️✨

✨🇬🇧Port Florence🇬🇧✨

Aye, Florence. Another posh port with a castle loaded in riches. A very prosperous port town with a king that is all too eager to throw lavish parties and get drunk off of centuries aged wine.

Benjamin: You’re one to talk, captain…

They hold a Regal Ball every year, with a dance competition. The winners take home 50 grand. Ah, a great memory indeed~

Benji: (blushing furiously)

😏

☠️🩸Bloodwater Bay🩸☠️

….Oh shite. This place. Right, well…..some more dense jungle, a thin strip of beach, the waters are red, but don’t be too alarmed…Davey tells us that’s the iron deposits that give more of that rusty hue. There’s a tall waterfall in the center……

Benjamin: …..Peter? Peeeeeeeter?

O-Oh! Well, moving right along…don’t want to linger in this wretched bay….

✨🇮🇪Gregory’s Point🇮🇪✨

Another lovely island between the mainland and Ireland. This is a developed hotspot, turned into a small port town where all are welcome. Pirates, naval officers, merchants, the like. Between the two main countries, this place has its own governance. So, you better have a good reputation if you don’t want to be murdered in your sleep ✨

Benjamin: you say that so nonchalantly, Captain

Mmmmhm. Also home to one of the best doctors this side of the equator. So, if you get wounded, make sure it happens close to Gregory’s Point.

✨🐋Giverny Gulch🐋✨

Another island made of basalt, home to a naval shipwreck. Do watch your step for broken glass, sharp rocks, reanimated corpses—

Benjamin: —I beg your pardon?

—fish and shark carcasses….oh right. Lots of sharks. Be careful of those.

Benjamin: ….Do I hear a whale?

✨🇫🇷Lorraine🇫🇷✨

We’re arriving near France! Jacques: lead us in the singing of the French National Anthem

Jacques: Oui, oui, Capitaine~! ✨

✨🎵 Allons enfant de la patrie,

Le jour de gloire est arrivé! 🎵✨

Benjamin: 😑

✨🎵….Contre nous de la tyrannie,

L'étendard sanglant est levé

L'étendard sanglant est levé

Entendez-vous dans les campagnes

Mugir ces féroces soldats?

Ils viennent jusque dans vos bras

Égorger vos fils et vos compagnes!

Aux armes, citoyens! (Formez)

Vos bataillons!

Marchons! Oui, marchons!

Qu'un sang impur

Abreuve nos sillons! 🎵✨

🏔️Arctic Archipelago🏔️

……

Benjamin: …..Peter?

…..Let’s be off…..I wish not to be here too long.

✨🏝️The Caribbean🏝️✨

Ah, much better~! A nice, warm climate. Benji, love, remind me to acquire a bottle of Ron de Barbados 🇧🇧✨

Benjamin: Trust me, Captain; you won’t forget.

We’ve reached our final stop, but we have a whole tied-up tour group of witnesses. Mmmm…Right, I got it! Men, start hauling them over the rail—

Benjamin: —PETER!!

I’m joooooking~. Start untying them and drop ‘em off at the next port. Thank you for….“choosing”….The Golden Phoenix as your cruise. I’ve been your captain, and have a magnificent stay in Barbados. Jones knows I will~

Benjamin: P-PETER!! 😣

Leaving this open because man I had a lot of fun here ✨

✨👇Tag list for writing snippets below DM me if you want to be added 👇✨

Tag List for writing tidbits (lmk if you want + or -)

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[windmaedchen-oceanhorn]

I have found the strength to draw one (of two) OCs for AFK Journey. So let me record a few details about her here.

Lavinia

Close childhood friend of Valen. Her father was an Imperial Knight stationed there (Stoutstone Isle) but died on duty in her early childhood years. Since then she dreamed of stepping into her father's shoes, bravely (and angrily often) tagging behind Valen to prove she was no less than him, despite being nearly 3 years younger. Sometimes even managed to kick his butt!

Left for the capital at 11 with her mother. She hated the city and missed the island (and her friend), but then found the Heroic Order and saw that girls were allowed - and then didn't think of anything else.

She had agreed with Valen that they'd meet again as knights but he never showed up and so time passed. On occasion she'd discuss with her mother what he might have been up to, not knowing that he's been in Holistone the past few years.

Her design was influenced by the two other Imperial members Guywin and Joey. She isn't meant to have any special rank, but somehow the design looked bland without the touch of gold.

Her story would be experienced as some extended side quest. At that point she's been through stupid stuff and hit rock bottom. She hid in the Ashen Wastes for a few weeks, before Berial senses her despair. He grants her continued life in exchange of being entertained... so now Lavinia is returning to the capital to follow up on her dark thoughts and assassinate the current leader of the Heroic Order.

She would not actually be wearing her uniform, but some rags she got in Mauler territory a few weeks prior. Only after the side quest is over she'd be seen in uniform again.

Valen's got to attend an important meeting of the Solitaries in the capital, and Merlin joins for the opportunity to see more of the Lightbearer Empire (and refresh her memory). They run into Lavinia on the road and travel together for a bit.

"Who the heck gave you permission to grow into such a stud of a man?!" "The same entity that made you grow pretty beautiful curves. You actually look like a girl now!"

Then lots of things happen. xD Friendships rekindled and broken again. Attempted murder in broad daylight and witnesses.

Truths are being shared, faith and trust are lost. Futures put on line. Hypofiends and a Hypogean in the middle of the capital!

Valen nearly throws the towel on the Heroic Order.

Corrupted Lavinia versus Valen (and others)

Berial is causing chaos but escapes from Merlin and the celestials.

The leader of the Heroic Order ends up very dead. Lavinia lives, somewhat against her expectations and wishes.

Hogan saves the situation, at least he tries to.

The Happy End is not missing, though: while leaving behind the capital for good, Lavinia continues to serve under and among better men in Holistone. ;-)

Due to previous events, Lavinia's life is dependent on Berial's grace. She's also got some perks due to that but she'd much rather not have anything to do with a Hypogean. Thankfully, he forgets about her until I need more drama many years down the line. xD

And finally... she wouldn't be a playable character ever, her skills are boring and greatly overshadowed by Valen or even Guywin. I might think about her stats in the future but since that part of the game isn't what sparks my interest, I probably won't. *shrugs*

Thanks for reading. :-) Until next time! <3

[citrusses]

2023 Writing Wrap Up

Thanks for the tag @sorrybutblog and @wolfpants! The Drarry brainrot finally manifested as writing for me this year! Tagging @oknowkiss @sweet-s0rr0w @thehoneybeet @mallstars @oflights @moonflower-rose @nv-md @shealynn88 @mintawasalreadytaken @ghaniblue @cassiopeiasshadow @tackytigerfic @epitomereally and anyone else who wants to share their year!

Our Objective Remains Unchanged (E, 46K, Muggle AU, university rivals to lovers)

Harry Potter, returning member of the Oxford University Boat Club, has two goals for the spring of 2005: beat Cambridge, and beat Draco Malfoy. Perhaps not in that order.

The Isle of Ogygia (E, 13K, Wheel of Drarry, pining, solitude, strip poker)

There is an island, far out in the sea.

Löyly (E, 10K, Suds Fest, steamy saunas, cold plunges, fluff)

Somewhere between the steam of a sauna and the icy waters of the Gulf of Finland, Harry heals from a broken engagement and a failed career. Draco Malfoy helps.

The Roommates (E, 3K, Sirius/Draco ➡️ Drarry, voyeurism, rough sex)

Harry would later wonder if, that first time it happened, he hadn’t been meant to find out all along.

[floydsglasses]

𝘼 𝙒𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧 𝙉𝙤𝙩 𝘼 𝙔𝙚𝙡𝙡 - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw (A Quiet Place AU)

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x AFAB OC/ Valerie

SUMMARY: Society has fallen to ruin's where silence is key to survival in a world where most humans have been killed by blind but noise-sensitive creatures. Two unlikely survivors come across each and agree to stick together.

Tag's: Mention of blood/wounds, post apocalyptic setting, use of ASL, Alien creatures. Stranger's to Lover's, Angst, Swearing, Fluff, inacurate first aid, No Use of Y/N A/N: First Story on tumblr, I hope that I did this right and hopefully I didnt mess thing's up too much

WORD COUNT: 7,731

⏁⏁⏁

SOUND. What once was so common is now almost extinct as the human race. The birds no longer flew in the sky, car alarms didn't blast loudly with a touch of a button, soft chatter’s from conversation now replaced with howling of the wind. Everything before was so simple, it was so easy, she didn't have to worry about the sound of leaves crunching under her feet, closing a door too hard, letting out a breath too hard. Now one wrong move in this world, a person’s life is gone in less than a whisper.

Her hand’s trailed over the isles of abandoned goods, she used to love going to the supermarket, seeing people and having a nice conversation with the cashier, kind smile’s.

Now a trip into town is so dreaded, the world is so quiet and it’s almost insufferable to her. Though she would much rather prefer the silence of the world then the harsh darkness of death from the predator's who now ruled the world.

She looks down at her grocery list, written on the back of the brochure for a navel bar, The Hard Deck. Before day 1 of the end of the world, she worked at a cafeteria in a nursing home, after rough day’s she would sometime’s sit at the bar with a bottle of beer. At the moment she much preferred the sound of the man she could catch glimpses of the few night’s playing 60’s tune’s on the piano. She assumed anyone she once knew is gone now.

She slide’s the can of food into her messenger bag, making sure not to stock up too much on the cans, learning the hard way that too much noise will attract the monsters.

Her bare feet smack the ground of the white tiled floor as she turned onto the next aisle.

Food rations were running low for her, and it didn't help that nowhere was safe enough for her. Walking around a desolate San Diego without shoe’s also wasn't ideal. Pain killers, she thought .

A few weeks ago she tripped on the sidewalk, skidding her knee and thigh, not something she would recommend handling without pain killers.

The snap of glass pulls her out of her thought’s. The hair on her arm stood to attention as her heart pounded in her rib cage, eye’s widened fearfully. Her hand grazed her knife holster, gripping the ebony handle. She had never handled a weapon for the purpose of hurting another human, not before this new world began.

Her breath shake’s as she lightly step’s around the corner. Unsheathing the blade from her waist. Monster’s were not the only threat in the world, the people, rumors at least swirled of groups of people calling themselve’s Bandits ruled parts of the city. She had not ventured that far, she was hell bent on finding somewhere away from the city, anywhere that was safe.

She huffed, swinging her blade as she rounded the aisle corner. She panted, her head darting in each direction. All that remained were leaves blown in from the broken front door, a few item’s laid on the ground.

She shook her head. Paranoia much. She rolled her eye’s, putting her knife back into its holster. You know you are totally crazy. Her bare feet turned on the edge to go back to her original isle.

Her arm’s smack into a metal stand, it began to fall to the floor. She gasped quickly trying to stop its descent. Its pamphlet’s crashed with metallic bang. Her eyes widened in horror as her heart raced, blood drained from her face.

Oh God, she panicked. Roar’s in the distance began to cry out at the sound. She stood frozen in fear, panting as she desperately fought against her sense telling to hide.

She let out a gasp as she was brought to the floor. She expected to be met with darkness, her eye’s closed tight awaiting the pain from the sharp talon’s of the creature’s that ruled the quiet world.

Shhh. A voice whispered next to her ear, their hot breath sending shivers down her spine. Her heart pounded. Her back was held closely to something..someone.

Her arm’s radiated with warmth, mostly from fear. Could the stranger be holding her back so they can save their own skin, or did they have something else in mind.

No time can pass in her mind as clicking began to fill the supermarket. Footsteps heavy on the tile, a hissing sound filled the air. The stranger behind her shuddered at the sound’s, the two of them both equally fearful.

Click Click.

They sounded. The dark silhouette casted on the ceiling above them on the white bar’s. The stranger’s hand clamped over her mouth as her panting grew erratic, she stood still not daring to move, even with the tight grip around her body from the stranger.

The click’s began to get closer to them, the footsteps heavier with each step. Their dark gray skin tight as their gorilla like movement helps them traipse across the tile. Their flower-like head’s turn slowly in each direction. She guessed they were looking for any sound.

She gulped as she held her breath, restricting her air. Hoping it will limit any sound she may be making, even with the help of the person holding her. She was sure that she was louder then what she may be stopping.

On her spine, a light thump was against her back. Rhythmically repeating at a rapid pace, similar to her own.

The creature’s head twitched with each click from its mouth, searching for her. Its heavy footsteps thudded against the ground as it walked on all fours.

A single tear trailed down her cheek, the heat from the stranger’s hand made the pool of sweat on her forehead fall. With a final twitch of its head, it let out an inhuman, ear piercing roar. A swift move the monster ran out of the supermarket.

A sigh of relief left her lip’s. The calloused hand left her mouth, her shoulders relaxed briefly. Her eyes widened, she reached for the holster that held her knife. A tight grip on wrist stopped her. From the size of his hand, she could tell he was a man, one who worked with his hand’s from the vein’s that popped.

He held on tightly onto her wrist as he got to his feet. Her heartbeat had not stopped racing, adrenaline pumped through her veins. She snapped her head, she had been ready to throw insult’s in, her head at least.

She looked the man up and down. His dirty blonde hair, messy and short. His dark brown eyes scanned her, maybe he saw her as a threat. Though he clearly had a chance of overpowering her. Above his chapped lips laid a thin line of facial hair, she wondered how long it took him to grow it.

He released her hand, putting his hand’s up in surrender. “Who are you?” She signed to him frantically, he blinked at her panicked state. He shook his head.

“I'm not gonna hurt you.” He reassured her she scrunched her nose up.

“Did you follow me?” She signed slowly. He shook his head.

“I was here before you.” The man stated in sign. “Bullshit!” She signed, her brows furrowed in anger.

“I swear.” He swore. In their silent world, she was thankful that she had taken the time prior to learning ASL. She wouldn't have thought it would be useful in a post apocalyptic setting.

Her shoulders relaxed, her jaw remained clinched. “Listen, to me please.” He pleaded with her, she crossed her arms.

He bent down on his knees leaning over grabbing a blue and yellow pamphlet, the world's map of San Diego written in a white font.

He began to carefully unfold it, placing objects on the corner to keep it straightened out. He looks up at her. “Marker?” He signed.

She furrowed her brow, she shook her head no. “What are you doing?” She signed to the stranger.

“Showing you something.” He signed, he looked around at the old store, smirking. He lightly stepped across the tiled floor.

She noted the duct tape on his boot’s, tear’s and rip’s in the leather in each curve, she supposed he had placed the tape to absorb the sound, she hadnt even thought about it.

Beginning to make mark’s on the map, taking pauses to think. His lip’s formed a thin line, he looked at her.

“You see that?” He signed, she shook her head.

“The Circle’s?” She signed to him, even in sign language he could detect the sarcasm she laid on. He gesture’s with two finger’s for her to get down to his level. She bends down to her knees, getting a closer look.

“You see it now?” He signed, she shook her head. He gently grabbed her hand, using his index finger pointing to the center. A green and beige island in the ocean, half a mile from the North Island docks. Her brows furrowed.

“What is that?” She signed. He blinked. “Island, not far from the bay, safe.” He says in sign language, she shook her head.

“Nowhere is safe.” She says.

“You don't know that.” He says, he motioned in frustration. “And you do?” She pointed out.

“Come with me.” He signed, she shook her head at his offer. “No, I don't know you.” She says.

“So..we can help each other.” He tells her, she shook her head in disbelief.

“I don't need your help.” She reassured him, she had gotten pretty far into the two year’s they have been in the apocalypse. His jaw dropped slack.

“You sure?” He challenged, and she nodded her head.

“Look, I can see you don't trust me.” He signed, she shrugged in agreement.

“But If you want to not live in fear of making a noise.” He paused with his hand’s up, he breathed out quietly. Her heart skipped a beat, looking at the brown eye’s of the stranger.

“Then come with me and see if it’s true.” He says.

She crossed her arms over her chest. She eyed the broken object’s on each side of the isle’s. The man in front of her offered her safety, and it had been so long since she last talked with another human being. He had saved her from being alien bait.

“Okay.” She signed to him. He breathed in relief at agreeance.

“One condition.” She state’s, he nodded his head.

“If it turns out to be fake.” She start’s. His gaze on her softened.

“We go our separate ways.” She sign’s, he nods his head.

“Deal.” He signed. The both of them got to their feet, he shuffled, folding up the map and stuffing it away. She lightly picked up her fallen backpack, she still needed supplies.

His brown eyes watched her. Before the alien had crashed in he had caught glimpses of her through the broken shelves. Her hair tucked into a beanie, a windbreaker jacket and jeans, no shoes though. Her own survival tactic he guessed, she seemed focused on her objective of getting what she needed.

“What’s your name?” He ask’s her, she gulps hesitating. She lifts up her hand’s and begin’s to sign out her name.

“Valerie.” She mouthed to him. He smirked. “You?” She asks back.

He runs a hand through his hair, he raises up his hands, slowly signing out the letter’s of his name. “Bradley.”

⏁⏁⏁

THE NEXT FEW days the two survivors had grown close, well as close as two people can when they are only using sign language to communicate.He would fumble on his signing that she would have to guess what he had said.

Her legs ached on each side, they had been making their way out of the inner city, following the highway to the marina. If car’s didn't risk the chance of them being caught their trip would take twenty minutes, now it would be a three day trip on foot, not including them avoiding the creature’s.

Valerie sighed, the morning sun of december shined on the two of them. The sun was high enough she could guess it was eleven in the morning. Bradley and her would both take turns with a large machete, it was heavy in her hand’s that most of the time he was the one welding it.

She feel’s a tap on her shoulder, she turned her head at him. “Are you hungry?” Bradley signed, she shook her head. “No.” She signed.

“I have a fruit cocktail, if you do get hungry.” He signs, her lip’s forming a thin line, smiling softly at his chivalry. She brushed a piece of her hair from her face, the bitter air whipping at her cheeks.

“Thank you.” Valerie say’s. She had grown tired of their small talk;most conversations that had gotten out of one another were about if they were okay, how far they were from their location, and where they should stop to rest.

Not that she didn't appreciate his worry for her, they had to rely on each other if they wanted to make sure they would see the next sunrise. She crossed her arms in her windbreaker, the two walked past run down car’s. Nature had started to reclaim her own, the highway’s covered in greenage and rust set into the metal of the high rise.

“Hey.” She stops him, he turns to look at her, keeping the same pace. “What?” He wondered.

“Before this.” She start’s off, looking away thinking of a question to break the ice. “What did you do, your job?” She ask’s. He runs fingers through his blonde hair in though.

He point’s to the sky, using two finger’s to trace along the white cloud’s. She furrowed her brow trying to understand him. “You..worked in the sky?” She signed.

“A pilot?” Valerie signs, he nods his head. He point’s up again, using two finger’s as a gun.He shot in the sky, she thinks, her eye’s widening as she understands him now.

“Top..gun.” She signed slowly.

“Yeah, and you?” He ask’s, she shakes her head. His job was definitely more eventful than hers. She cleaned table’s, served plates out to elderly people, and sometimes she would deliver to room’s.

“I worked in a cafeteria.” She signed to him. “Kind of boring.” She tells him, he shook his head.

“That’s not boring, that's simple.” Bradley reassured her, she shook her head. “You got to fly in the sky..All I did was serve soup.” Valerie says to him

“I would have loved that.” He tells her. “There were times I just wanted thing’s to be slow.” He admitted to her, she furrowed her brow at his admittance.

“Why did you join then?” Valerie wondered. He sighed, her eye’s drifting down at the grass growing through the cracking line’s of the highway. He gulped as they continued to walk on.

“I just had to.” He says. She nodded her head, she guessed it was a story she had to hear by mouth, which she was sure she would never hear.

“Long story short?” She signed to him, he shrugged his shoulders. “How far are we?” Valerie wonder’s.

“We passed about two, maybe three gas stations.” He tells her, she scoff’s, she hadn't taken the time to note the landmark’s, only keeping in mind how long it will take to get to their destination.

“They all look the same.” She says.

“Everything does.” Bradley remark’s, his movement’s in his hands are slower. She noted that his signing was slower than hers, she guessed he wasn't as fluent or quick in ASL like she is.

“How far from the marina do you think we are?” Valerie asked him, his brow’s furrowed, he looked around at the street signs. He pulls the map from his bag, placing it lightly on a rundown car hood, bringing the red sharpie marking off on it.

“We were at Amo’s street and now we are on 163.” He signed to her. She stands close to him looking down at the map. He had taken the time to mark off on each site they passed.

“Okay and how much further?” She wonder’s. His brown eye’s look at the map. “Fourteen miles .” He guessed

“Seriously?” She ask’s, she dropped her hand’s at her side in frustration. ”I think you are pulling my boob.” She joke’s, he furrowed his brow at her signing, got to teach him some thing’s.

“It's only been a few day’s.” He point’s out, she rolled her eye’s. A few day’s in this world was a lifetime with how long it takes to travel.

“Feel’s longer.” She remarked.

“You can still get leave.” He reminds her, she sighed. He was right, she didn't have to stick with him, they could part way’s now and hope for the best.

Though it was nice to have someone to care about, knowing that when she woke up that someone was going to be waiting for her. In the world before she had thrown herself into her work, claiming it was her mistress. She hadn't given herself time for relationships, and frankly they never gave time to her either. No need to waste her energy in a world that seemed so bleak.

“We’ve gotten this far.” Valerie reminds him.

“We finish what we have started.” She signs to him. Her eye’s hardened with determination, he smirked at her ambition.

“If we keep walking we should get close enough to the bay area.” He summarized. “What about sleeping?” She asked him, his shoulder’s slump, as if to let out a sigh.

He put his hand in a salute looking at the skyline in front of them. Building’s once filled the sky high reflecting from the glass now covered in vine’s, some had crashed down. Slashed from the claw’s and talon’s of the sound seeking creature’s. She often wondered how it must have felt to watch from above seeing everyone going about their lives. They must have looked like ant’s compared to them.

“There.” He point’s

“You wanna go there?” Valerie asked him, he nodded his head.

“That’s far.” She mouthed to him, he furrowed his brow’s

“So is the marina.” He signs, he point’s to the top of the building. “If we get high enough we can see how far we are.” He tells her. Her heart thumped as it raced

“Can't we just go to a motel?” She wonder’s, he shook his head confused. “Thought you wanted to see how far we are?” He ask’s, she gulped.

“Just the height is intimidating.” Valerie tell’s him. He smirked amused at her fear. “The world has ended and you are afraid of heights?” He signed to her, she rolled her eyes.

“No, I'm afraid of a creature climbing a high rise to kill me.” She state’s.

“I won't let that happen.” He promised her, his signing in the end being wrong. She shook her head.

“Give me your hand.” She orders. He furrowed his brow. She guides his hands, moving them in the right motion’s, mouthing what they are. “That’s how you do it.” Valeria corrects him.

“Thank’s.” He signs. She smiled softly, she swung her backpack up further. “Come on.” She usher’s him, her heart pounding looking at the sun peaking through the two towers.

⏁⏁⏁

SHE HAD DECLARED it she hated height’s. Even more than before she climbed the eighteen floor’s of the forty one floors of the Pacific Gate. She had always wondered what it must have been like to stay in the extractive type hotels. She had grown up in Virginia, in a rural town mile’s from the urban city, she had come to Calafornia chasing a dream that sadly fell through.

Her fingers grazed the chipped paint on the wall, the pearl white had turned brown from the age and vine’s had grown in the hall’s into the room’s. They had luckily found a room that wasn't terribly covered in the reclaimed nature. Bradley had insisted that they stay close to each other, both taking a watch.

Though they doubted that anyone or anything would find them up there, unless they made a sound. He kept to himself mostly, she wondered before the end of the world had he been a social person, like her. She could see from his choice in wardrobe, a Hawaiian shirt underneath his black jacket that he certainly had a taste. His tan skin almost kissed by the sun herself, had he gotten it from all their walking, maybe he had it before the world went quiet.

Her feet step on the ripped up dark blue carpet. The sun had set on the city and the moon had shone over the window’s of the balcony. A warm orange glow lit the room from her lantern. He laid on the bed, white ear bed’s in each of his ears, plugged into an old IPod nano. His brown eyes focused on the world outside.

She stands next to the white unmade sheet’s. A buffalo plaid blanket laid on top, she had insisted that she take the couch on the other side. She had noticed he had been limping up the step’s, knowing that the fancy hotel probably had a mattress that would make him feel better. He refused, if she could she would have let out a frustrated yell.

She tap’s his shoulder, he shuddered at the touch from her, he snapped his head in surprise. His finger’s grazing the knife holster on his leg.

“Sorry.” He signed.

She shook her hand. “It's Okay.” Valerie take’s the seat spot next to him, keeping a distance between the both of them.

“How did you get that?” She asks, pointing at the old technology, he smirked looking down at the blue case, a smiley face sticker on the back that slowly chipped away.

“It’s mine.” He states, she nodded her head.

“It still works?” She asks curious, she hadn't used one in years, preferring streaming from her phone.

His pink chapped lips formed a thin line. “Yeah, all my music from college.” He tells her, his signing is still slow.

“Anything good?” Valerie wonder’s, he shrugged his shoulders. He handed it to her to look at, she held up the screen, beginning to scroll with the control’s, clicking with each movement of her thumb. His music taste ranged from almost every decade up until 2012. She was almost surprised with the variety of choices’ he had at the tip of his fingers’, she looked down sadly, she hadn't heard music in what felt like an eternity, she can't even recall the last thing she had listened to on day one of their new world order.

She stops scrolling. Her eyes widened at the song, Jerry Lee Lewis’s, Great Balls of Fire. A soft smile creased her cheek’s. Lonely nights in the bar were less lonely when everyone around her began to sing the sixtie’s jaunty tune. She brought her hand to her mouth.

His brows furrowed at her reaction. “What?” He signed. She shook her head.

“Nothing, it's just.” She stops looking down again, her thumb grazing the play button. “There was a guy at this bar.” He perked up, his brows furrowed.

“He played this on the piano.” She recall’s, smiling softly. His eyes widened, his lip’s parting as his thoughts raced.

“Yeah every saturday..guess he is gone now.” Valerie signed sadly, she brushed back a piece of her hair.

Bradley had finally realized something. In the store, he saw her through the broken isles and fallen objects. He could have swore it was his mind finally playing tricks on him, until he caught a glimpse of her face.

There were night’s he would go into the Hard Deck. She would sit in the same spot each night, order the same drink, she always seemed to have her mind on anything but where she was. He had been curious who she was, why was she always in her head. He did plan to talk to her, only any time he got the courage to talk to her, she would get up and leave before he could get a chance to speak.

He pulls one of the white ear buds out of his ear, handing it to her. She looked down at his hand, taking it from him, placing it in her ear, pressing the play button. She flinches at the sudden piano playing. He chuckled quietly.

She rolled her eyes playfully. She began bobbing her head slowly, trying not to move her head too much. The two of them doing different motion’s to the music, if she was alone she would be all over the place, dancing on the mattress belting her lung’s out. He bites his lips, closing his eyes, thinking of better times.

Valerie mouthed the lyrics, leaning her head back at the chorus. She shakes her shoulders leaning into him trying to get him to join in with her. Bradley smirked at her happiness, the two of them tried everything to bond. Seeing the other experiencing something other than fear made his heart flutter.

He begin’s tap with his finger’s the note’s of the piano. Recalling the filling of the key’s under his finger’s, each movement a phantom at his tip’s. Valerie hold’s her fist as a mock microphone as she mouthed the final lyrics.

An inhuman screech fills the air echoing off the city. Her heart raced, wiping her head to look at the balcony. She shook her head. Figure’s she thinks’. The world outside was still as bleak as ever. Her smile fell as she glanced down.

“I’ll take my first watch.” She signed to him. His brow’s furrowed. Her shoulders tensed as she stood to attention, pulling her jacket closer. She turns on her heels to walk.

“Wait”. she hears a faint whisper escape’s his lip’s. He reached out, taking her hand in his calloused one. Their eyes locked as his face softened.

“Stay.” He pleads

She gazed at him. He had before insisted that they stay in separate rooms so the other had the chance of escaping while the other could too. Now here he begged for her to not leave him alone. Was he really scared this time, did he need that comfort of knowing in the room he wasn't alone.

“Of course.” Valerie signed. He gulped, running his hand through his unkempt honey curls. He laid back down. Placing his headphones back in his ear, leaving one out one for her to hear the music he played.

Bradley stayed awake for as long as he could, fighting hard against the sleepiness in his body, losing in the end. Soft snoring escaping his lip’s. Valerie formed a soft grin at his peacefulness, the both had seen so much, so many things lost and so many stolen from each of them.

She leaned over him, pulling a navy blue blanket over his chest. He turns in sleep, not waking. Hopefully he dreamed, anywhere that wasn't there must be better. Her eyes grew heavier and heavier as she stared at the quiet city. She wiped away the feeling from her eye’s.

Desperately battling against her own body clock, she groaned softly, wiping her cheek’s. Just shut your eye’s for a moment, the last word’s she thinks before her head hits the pillow and the world becomes dark.

⏁⏁⏁

SHE SCRIBBLED THE WORD on the notepad. The two had grown bored on their adventure to the marina.  Valerie had been sneaking around the Pacific gate, and found a white board for Bradley to use to communicate.  Thinking it would make their communicating easier, as his ASL was slow, and now she could properly tease him. 

“A.” He signed, she smirked, shaking her head. They had started playing the game hangman in to past time, they weren't far from the marina, having woken up late didn't help the ground they would have to make up. 

He rolled his eyes as she drew another body part to the stick figure. She licked her lips as she waited for another guess. She had won the last five round’s of the game and him once, to be fair she didn't blame him for not being good at guessing games when there wasn't anyone to give hints verbally. 

“C.” He guessed, she nodded her head writing the letter on the white board. He pumped his fist, the machete in the other, his turn as her hands were preoccupied with the marker. 

“I hate this.” He signs, she smirks at him.  “You just suck.” She teased him, he pulls out a tiny notepad, writing down in big letters. He holds it up to her. 

“You have a lot of sass for a girl with no shoe’s.” It read, her eyes widened at the comeback. She uses her hoodie sleeve wiping off a bit of their game writing. 

“And who’s idea was that mustache?”She wondered. His lip’s parted agape. “You love it.” He signs, she shakes her head. “Fuck off no I dont.” She write’s down. He holds up his own notepad. 

“Everyone loves it, baby.” His read’s, she rolled her eye’s. “Not me.” She gesture’s. He scoffs silently. 

“Wanna find out why?” He challenged her, licking his chapped lips. She looked at the hair above his lip, his facial hair being a stand out to the rest of his features, other than his well built physique. His blonde hair is curly on the top and shaved on the neck, unkempt yet somehow it still made him look even more handsome. 

“No thanks.” She smiled softly.  She looks down at her whiteboard, wiping it off again. “Keep guessing.” She urged him. 

He runs his hand through his curl’s. “P” He sign’s. She looks at him disappointed, adding another limb to the stick man.

“That’s two arm’s.” Valerie point’s out. He shook his head. His step’s halt as he look’s up. “What?” She ask’s, her eye’s scan his sight seeing what he stopped for. Her heart stop’s in her throat as it began to race. 

Hundreds of boat’s laid out in front of them on the waterfront, docked in their areas. Some fell prey to nature while some still remained. 

Her breath shaked, she looked to the man next to her. Tears filled both their eyes, they had finally made it after so many long hours of walking, and dodging alien’s they reached their destination. 

“Come on.” Valerie urged him. 

She turned on her heels quickly scurrying to the stairs that lead down to the docks. He followed closely behind her as the both of them desperately raced for the nearest boat’s. Her feet pound against the wood as she stop panting looking around at their option for travel. 

“Which one?” She asked him. He put his hand on hips trying to catch his breath. 

“Anything with a cabin.” He writes on his notepad, she nods her head. 

She walked around each boat, checking each for a key. She doubted that any of them would be filled with gasoline, much less run. For the most part they were almost all sailboat’s, and small yachts. She had never been on a boat, well one as big as the one’s parked in the water. She had gone fishing before with her uncles in the past, though she knows a small boat wouldn't get them to the island they needed something better. 

The wood creaked as she stepped back down again.  Valerie walk’s back around to the other dock, he stood with his arms crossed irritated. 

“That bad.” She joke’s. 

“I'll check again.” She tells him. He shrugged. “Be my guest.” He signed to her. The dock creaked again as with the heavy step of her foot. She gasps as a sharp pain in his felt in her thigh. She snapped her head looking down, a long black stick stuck out of her, piercing through pant leg. 

A scream of anguish left her mouth as hot fire pain ran up and down her leg. She collapsed onto the dock groaning loudly, her eyes widened as her hot tears welled.

Bradley ran to her side, putting his hand over her mouth, muffling her scream. Valerie cried as she tried to pull the arrow out.

“Don't do that.” He whispered to her. She whimpered, leaning her head back. 

He grunt’s as a cold metal graze’s his neck. Her eyes widened as another man behind him held a knife to the blonde’s throat. Two men dressed in ragged clothes, walk slowly behind him and stand above her, her heart racing in fear. Bradley slowly get’s to his feet, lifting his hand’s up in surrender. The man nod’s his head at the two men. The grab Valerie under her arm’s bringing her to her feet, she groaned quietly. A woman walks around, forcing a bandana around her mouth silencing her, she walks around. 

Her cold eye’s analyzing both of them. No one dared to speak, she slowly paced around them. She removes a rope from around her waist, standing behind Bradley. She smirked, shooting dagger’s at Valerie. She grunt’s wrapping the rope around his neck, pulling it tightly. He gasped for air pulling at the rope that cut into his neck. He groaned as the man behind him forced him to turn around, beginning to drag him across the wooden dock. 

Valerie grunted against the two men’s arm’s, her heart raced as she watched him struggle, clawing at his captor.  The woman from before circle’s her, looking the restrained girl up and down, vulture to its prey.  She point’s with her knife at the end of the dock. 

She pant’s in fear, gritting her teeth. Her eye’s went to his kicking leg’s, a black leather strap on his leg laid a metallic flicker of the sun. Her brows furrowed as she understood what to do. She stomps on the wood. 

The woman in front of her raised her brow’s at her action. Bradley looked at her, she stomped again, gesturing to her leg. He grunted twisting around trying to slow the man behind him, he strained as he grunt’s pulling him closer to the water. Valerie stomp’s her foot again, slapping thigh again. 

His brown eyes darted to his own leg. The black leather sheath with his initials in the working laid his brown bowie handled knife. He reached with one hand, the other fighting the rope at his throat. His finger’s link through the hole in the handle, pulling it out. 

Valerie met the eye of the woman leader. She smirked as her confusion grew. She grit’s through her teeth, extending her leg kicking the woman in the face, she stumbled back falling over onto the dock. She huffed, grabbing the handle in her holster, unsheathing her blade plunging it into the man behind her groin. 

The man hollered out in pain. His scream echoing off the city. Screech and roar’s sound alert at the sudden disruption of their perfect world. The man with the rope looked up with wide eyes, his distraction end’s as a sharp cut is felt to his stomach. 

He released the rope. Bradley got to his feet, he grunted as he balled his fist and swung it into the man’s face. Valerie grabbed one of the men by their shoulders, plunging her blade into his chest, he groaned in agony. 

Shoving him away from her. Blood rushed through her ear’s as the creature’s cry’s began to get closer to them all. Valrie grunted limping, holding her thigh, crimson brown leaking through her jean’s onto the wood. She gritted her teeth trying to move as fast as her injury would let her get.  Behind her she could hear the clicking of the alien, as well as its talon slicing through a body. 

Bradley pulled the man against the dock post, pulling the rope tight as he fought against him.  

“Fuck you.” He whispered into the man’s ear, he jammed the knife into the killer's gut. He let out a cry of agony, the creature’s hollers cutting in with his. 

Valerie ducked out of the way, her head slamming hard into the wood. The former pilot dove into the water as the man was tackled into the bay water. 

Her vision blurred as she looked to the sky above. She gasped for breath, panting as hot flashes ran through her body. The world around faded in and out, eventually turning dark.

⏁⏁⏁

HER BODY ACHED. Never in her life had she felt this tired, each side of her felt like they were under rushing water, slowing her with fatigue and aches. Her eyes fluttered open as she took in her surroundings, the room around her rock back and forth, small and walled with dark oak. She groaned looking down at her leg. 

The arrow was gone, the pain lingered. Her pant leg was cut open, a part of her maroon brief’s visible. A white bandage wrapped around her thigh, a bit of blood stained brown on her leg. She pant’s as she looked all around her, she didn't recognize where she was at all. “Valerie, it's okay.” A deep voice spoke clearly, her heart skipped a beat. She whipped her head, he got to her side sitting on an ottoman close to the wall. His blonde hair dripped with water, though the rest of his clothes remained dry. 

She stuttered for a moment. “I got the arrow out but I had to dig around the tip.” Bradley inform’s her, crossing his hands over his lap. 

“You bled a lot, and you kept waking up each time I tried to remove it.” He says to her. The glow from the bedside lamp illuminated his features onto the oak of the room.  His brown eyes meet her widened one’s, he furrowed his brow. 

“Are you okay, what’s wrong?” He asked in concern. She shook her head.

“Nothing, it's just.” She gulp’s. 

“I haven't heard you speak before.” She admits, his gaze softened on her.  There were moments she could catch glimpses of his voice when he mouthed words, it was much deeper then what she had thought it was. 

“Where are we?” Valerie asks him. He gulps, clearing his throat.

“Couple mile’s out from the bay, the creature drowned itself so it didn't follow us.” He reassures her, she nods her head. 

“How far from the island are we?” She wonder’s, he shrugged his shoulders as though.

“About five miles, give or take.” He inform’s her, she listens hearing the sound of water slushing around, she was on a boat. 

“They can't swim, and it’s raining right now, so it’s safe to talk.” He tells her. She groans as she holds her thigh sitting up. He gets to her side. “Hey Hey take it easy.” He soothed her. 

“I'm fine.” Valerie state’s, he shakes his head.  “You were shot with an arrow and lost a lot of blood.” He reminds her. 

“You said you were a fighter pilot, not a nurse.” She teased with a weak laugh. He rolled his eyes at her comments.  “Gonna take a lot more than an arrowhead to take me out.” She tells him. 

“Clearly.” He chuckled. “Listen, what happened back there.” She start’s, he holds up his hand for her to stop. “Dont..its okay, its over.” 

“No, I'm sorry.” Valerie say’s softly, shaking her head. His brows furrowed in confusion at her guilt.  “We didn't know they were there, it's fine.” He assured her. 

“No I meant I should have done more, I should have swallowed my pain and killed him.” She ranted, biting her lip as she thought about all of it. 

“It’s not your fault, none of that was your fault.” Bradley says to her. “They were gonna kill you.” Valerie stammer’s out, she wiped her eye’s. “And you saved me.” He reminded her, and she shook her head. 

“You did, I wouldn't have remembered my knife if you hadn't been there.” Bradley admit’s. He stands up, sitting on the gray sheets of the bed she laid on. His plaid shirt unbuttoned, underneath he wore a black shirt.  

“They would have drowned me, and killed you.” He tells her.

“Valerie you saved me, you did.” He declares strongly. He glanced down at her bare thigh. Shiver ran down her body as goosebumps painted her arms. Her heart skipped a beat. 

“Should probably change your bandage.” He whispered, rubbing the back of his neck. He cleared his throat. He stands up walking out of the cabin room.  A breath of relief left her lips. she hadn't realized it.  She missed human’s, conversation, touching, feeling, and experiencing. She joked before that she ghosted through everything, living only to work. Now she lived to survive, that wasn't living. 

He came back into the room with first aid supplies. He sat down in front of her on the floor, and began to unwrap the bandage from her leg. His fingertip’s grazed her thigh, her heart pounded in her ear’s loudly. “You're staring.” He mumbled. She cleared her throat leaning back on her hand’s.

“Sorry..uh just talk to me.please.” She pleaded with him, chuckling nervously. “Um..what was your word on the highway?” Bradley wonder’s, she scoffs. “Sore loser.” She grumbled, shaking her head. He rolled his eye’s as he soaked a cotton ball with alcohol. 

“It was cowboy.” Valerie tell’s him.  “What!?” He exclaimed, she chuckled, shaking her head. “See what I mean.” She teased him. She hissed through her teeth as hot pain stung her, she grit her teeth sitting up, gripping his arms. 

“Fuck motherfuc-agh.” The women swore holding him tightly. His brown eyes looked her up and down. 

“Little warning would have been nice.” Valerie mutter’s. 

“Sorry.” He breathed out. She shook her head letting go of his arms.

“Can I ask you something?” Valerie wonder’s, he nods his head. 

“Yeah sure.” Bradley say’s, he brings cold wet cloth, wiping away the dried blood that dye’s the white red. She glanced at his lips watching as he worked around the wound. She could see the outline of the arrowhead and where he had to cut around her thigh. 

“Did you ever visited the Hard Deck?” Valerie asked calmly. He licked his lips looking up from his spot on the floor.

“You said you were a pilot, and that was the popular spot for them.” She recall’s. 

“Did you ever go?” She repeats’. “I did.” He answers, she smirks. He place’s a white gauze on the wound, soaking up the blood, placing more around it. 

“So you must have seen me at some point right?” Valerie smiled softly. He bit his lip as heat arose to his cheek.  

“I did.” He says softly. Her heart pounded, the blonde stared up at her from the floor. His eyes glancing between the wound on her leg, his finger’s working delicately to not hurt her, and her face. 

His breath hot on the bare part of her skin, his focus didn't deter him from how close the two were getting. More than they have been since they began their journey. “Did you ever try to talk to me?” She wondered. He wrapped the bandage around her leg tightly.

“I wanted to, you always left before I could.” Bradley admit’s. Her breath hitched at his confession. 

“I saw you every Saturday, you alway ordered the same thing.” His brown eyes glanced at her.

“Pale Ale, with a garnish.” He recall’s, her dropped slightly agape. 

“And you always looked like you had so much on your mind.” His voice vibrated. Her brows furrowed as she began to rerun scenes from the world before. Every Saturday. She thought. It couldn't be him, could it. “I never got the confidence though, kind of mad at myself on that one.” He chuckled weakly, he shook his head. Her thoughts raced as she played everything back, she only caught glimpses from behind, his sunglasses always his eyes from her, and the crowd’s of civilians and armed forces. 

He turned around. “It was you wasn't it?” Valerie say’s, she sits up with her hand in her lap. His heart pounded, he 

“Great balls of Fire, every saturday…the piano.” She lists,their eyes not daring to look away. 

“Was that you?” She asks softly. He smiled warmly. His hand’s stopped wrapping, he taped it sealing her wound off. Her hand’s hold his on her bare thigh.

"Yes." He anwserd, he looked down at the floor. "That was me." He says.

She smiled, caressing his cheek, making him look her in the eye. The gap between the two of them began to get smaller As his hand slowly trailed to her waist. She holds the back of his neck pulling him in, inhaling deeply as their lips begin to move in sync.

His finger grazes across her skin, the warmth of them contrasting with her cold body. He leaned forward, hooking his hand under knee .

Her back pushed into the grey comforter, the both of them keeping the rhythm of lips . She wrapped her bare leg around his waist, while her other hand played with the hem of his plaid shirt.

She pulled away as sharp pain shot through her body. Valerie held her leg groaning in pain.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, his hot breath on her face. She smiled, their foreheads touching. "It's okay…should take it slow." She says softly.

"Not really my style." Bradley teases her, she could feel him smirk.

"Me neither." She agreed. Valerie untangled herself from, he pulled himself away from her. His blonde hair messy from her fingers.

"You should get some rest, I'll see how far we are." He tell's her. He adjusted his pant leg as he turned around. She smirked at her effect.

"You know if this isn't a rumor, then we won't have to worry about that." Valerie teased him. He bit his lip, turning around to face her.

"Are you good on that promise?" Bradley challenged her. She smirked looking him up and down.

" I might be." She smirked. He shook his head as his cheeks became hot. His brown eyes gazed on the injured girl.

"Get some rest." He says walking out of the cabin room. She sighed leaning her head back against the pillow. Groaning loudly as she closed her eyes as the ache in body remained. The boat slowly rocked her back to sleep.

A/N: AND THAT IS ALL SHE WROTE, God i hope this dosent flop because if it does I have to go down with. Anyway's, your favorite smart mouth guy is next.

Tagged: @cowboysandpilots @bobfloydssunnies @sugarcoated-lame @sorchathered @fairyheart @senawashere @swiftsgirlfriend @

[lsleofthelost]

once again, im here with set pictures, info from the set designer, Mark Hofeling, and my own commentary on it. this time, i wanna share stuff on Isle of the Lost from Descendants 2.

post about Isle of the Lost in part one

post about Maleficent's castle

Ursula's Fish and Chips Shoppe:

About Ursula's place: "Like all the imprisoned villains on the Isle of the Lost, Ursula has had to find a way to make ends meet. Thus her Fish and Chips Shoppe is right at the tide line of the prison island. I wanted the feel of a faded old carnival attraction, still alluring despite its decay."

"Uma (China Anne McClain) and her pirate gang, including her trusted lieutenants Harry Hook (Thomas Doherty) and Gil (Dylan Playfair) rally to take back what is theirs in Uma's mother's dingy tidal pool of a Fish and Chips Shoppe."

"A detail of the menu board and specials in Ursula's Fish and Chips Shoppe."

i think this gives us info on the money on the Isle. there are two units, m and n, and there are a 100n in 1m. i think the prices are comprable to us dollars back like 30-40 years ago? which further supports my theory that the Isle is stuck in the past, in the time of their imprisonment. the menu itself has some genuine regular items, like fish cakes, dumplings, but most of them are isle specials, like pond scum, shell smell, and gulf goo. which i think is hilarious considering Ursula and Uma still just serve them whatever.

"A detail of Uma's coral throne."

Isle of the Lost:

"A view of Low Tide Lane on the Isle of the Lost. Having been an isolated prison island for decades now, the idea was that every slat and board is on its 9th or 10th life, and every object not screwed down had changed grubby hands hundreds of times."

they kept the dirty candy colour palette! and i love how they truly kept to the 'everything is used and stolen 10 times over' philosophy.

this is the Bazaar, which is another market on the Isle. there is one in the main square and then this is the one closer to the docks, we can see Mal riding through it in D2. here, we once again see the money measurement. and i think it's intereting to see that crab and potatoes are priced higher than other things. i also like the 'satisfaction no guaranteed' sign.

Curl Up and Dye:

"Drizella's Curl Up and Dye on the Isle of the Lost is where Mal and Evie load up on chemicals for their showdown with Uma's pirate gang. So more than a hair salon as absurd as the rest of the Isle, it also had to be a repository for all kinds of chemistry and alchemy. The idea here was that out of every 100 of young Dizzy's experimental, chemical beauty concoctions, 99 blow up."

"The ever-unpredictable dye distillery."

"A detail of the dry chemistry set up."

i like that the base for this is a rough finish, like a construction before any renovation. and then its just neon splashes and broken mirrors from Dizzy's experiments. also i like the note that it's more chem lab than a salon.

Rotten four's hideout:

"The VK's hideout was always a place of respite from their raging and overbearing parents. It's where the VK's purloined all the best stuff on the Isle, and where Mal perfected her street art. "

this is Mal's room! which confirms for me that she doesn't live with her mother, at least not full time.

im kinda sad that we didn't get a view of the side with all those board games (kitchen, i think?) but even just these pictures are full of interesting details! as far as i saw only Mal's and Jay's 'Long Live Evil' tags are on the walls, i think it's because it was theirs first. i like the thorns that are circling the walls, like Maleficent's thorns around Sleeping Beauty's castle. they have some kind of an old school sound system, too! which i can i assume they use when throwing parties. and there are bikes, probably repaired 10 times over, but prised nonetheless. also, i thought that the green lamp in Mal's room is a hookah lol

Uma's ship:

"Uma and her pirate gang rule the rotting docks and rocky edge of the Isle of the Lost."

"Uma's HQ is this ruined pirate ship. After all the Disney Villains were relocated to the Isle of the Lost, all the ships that brought them were scuttled and they were all locked behind an enchanted barrier. So this is one of many wrecks in these waters, including the sails of the ship, rammed into her side. We found real tall-ship riggers for this work, and they used 10,000 feet of rope in the process."

i love that they really rigged that ship! i think it's a detail that shows that Uma's pirates are real professionals.

"This photo shows the "rickety" and treacherous landscape of the rotten docksides. This became the setting of a 20 person melee to rescue King Ben and escape the Isle and Uma's vengeful clutches."

we can see Uma's 'We ride with the tide' tag in the bg, signifying that this is her territory.

there are a lot of cool details but what i'm focusing on here are the old school washing machines, again showing us how the Isle is frozen in time. im assuming theyre on the docks because this is where the water is.

i am looking to make another post with details from D3, here's hoping i'll get to it sooner than i did this follow up

[themoonstonechronicler]

warmup i did before a big piece. its Lochlyn Callahan!

[cator99]

Amazing...... The universe has rewarded me for my righteous deeds by granting me the most joyous grocery shopping experience of my life... I'm uncertain how to describe it, as i dont quite know what happened myself.... but, well, there was a woman causing a ruckus. She was like some sort of looney toons character... running around laughing and smiling... while being chased down by the security guard. She was running absolute circles around the guy, as they went round and round the tills... everyone stopped and wandered over to observe the commotion... every employee had gathered around as well..... And this woman... mischievous and bewildering... her laughter was infectious. You couldn't help but grin at the bizarre event. Even the security guard– despite trying to save face– couldn't help but just start to crack up in bewilderment... however, he did compose himself. Everyone was just kind of giggling and watching this insane game of tag... then he finally grabbed hold of her bag... ah, I suppose she had been shoplifting after all... this is right about when the spell was broken and a lightbulb popped up over my head. I fled into the nearest an isle and shoved as much as I possibly could from my basket into my bag. Went around the store continuing to shove, all to the soundtrack of the woman who was at this point yelling between fits of laughter. By the time I got to the till, they'd managed to get her out of the store... all was quiet for a second, as everyone remarked on the craziness...... and then, right back into the store she comes. Oh no ya dont! The manager just kind of shakes her head in bewilderment and laughs as she calls over the security guard. He chases her out while she just laughs and laughs............ There was a father with an very swagfully-dressed little autistic white boy standing next to me in line. The boy did not care one iota about what was going on around us, and instead just stood reeeeally close to me and examined my groceries with such an intensity... his face right up against them, as they moved down the conveyor belt. I would move away from him and he would move right back to being an inch away, staring intently up at me, then back down at the groceries. Once the guy ahead of me had left, the boy went to the end of the till and put his face up to the metal to examine that as well, but this time poking gently at its different metal parts. He was having what looked like a great time, and the cashier, an older black lady, was quite happy to see him making sure the till was up to par. What do you think– pretty cool huh? I wonder how they build these things... etc. By the time I got out of there, the security and half the staff were hanging out in the entryway, expecting the woman to come running back in... but she was nowhere to be seen.

[ego-osbourne]

Though not an ask, I wanted to add this to the queue as well! Thank you @rhaelanaitoh for such kind tags <333 I wanted to answer your question too! (Referencing this post)

In the lore for my fics, the HoK doesn’t actually split Sheogorath and Jyggalag. I thought it was—for lack of a better term—whack as hell that Jyggalag is just moseying around in Oblivion after the events of the Shivering Isles and could just pop up and start chaos at anytime, and none of the other Princes seem to be doing much about it? While it’s very in character for Sheogorath to want just this to piss off the other Princes, having Jyggalag around as a potential threat was too much of an unaddressed risk for my taste, and so I felt comfortable enough to change it.

Instead, the HoK simply postpones the Greymarch at the end of the 3rd Era, which is honestly a grand feat of itself. Though Jyggalag isn’t permanently dealt with, preserving the Isles for another entire era is a hell of a success, and one Sheogorath will gladly take. So, his hourglass still trickles down to the end of the 4th Era when Jyggalag will arrive again.

But, the hourglass has broken before, and sand has spilled. It’s been repaired every time, and while Sheogorath first assumed that breaking it would now leave him with an inaccurate timer, it always manages to empty at the perfect moment, just as he turns from Madness to Order.

Those who break the hourglass are still punished, of course

In whatever way Sheo sees fit

//also that’s the end of my ask spree for now! Back to regular posting o7

[ctrl-alt-tahu]

A Great Being's Mind

What kind of Great Being allows himself to be "fixed" by Karzahni?

The descriptions of Velika in the Saga of Ignition are clear: he was an odd, broken, clumsily-rebuilt Po-Matoran, as were all the Matoran of Voya Nui. If Velika had not been like those around him, the great surprise of his unveiling after the reformation of Spherus Magna might not have been so surprising, but a surprise it was. So a broken Matoran rebuilt by Karzahni he must have been--but why?

He was not always this way, we have learned. In all the records salvaged from the Great Spirit Robot there were still traces, for those who went looking, of the original Po-Matoran Velika. There was no longer anyone who remembered him, or any record of his assigned duties in the village where he had lived in the Northern Continent: only a single copper scrap that had survived the destruction of Karzahni's realm: the tag with which he had been sent there, only partially legible:

Velika - Po-Mato-- broken arm, uppe-- return to: East Po-Koro, Inner Po-Wahi, Nor-- Signed: Roc-

A broken arm was a minor repair, compared with most of those sent to Karzahni--at least in the later years. Once Turaga across the isles began to wonder why their Matoran never returned from their repairs, they went to greater efforts to repair their broken Matoran, sending only the most irreparably damaged to Karzahni, the realm of no return. In those later years, a broken arm alone would never have been enough. Were there more damages, unable to be read on what remains of the tag? Or was he sent there so early in Karzahni's history that no one had yet become suspicious that none had returned?

The script used on the tag argues for the possibility of the latter option. The square-printed letters include a ligature that was lost in the great time-skip, an early Artakhan script that fell out of fashion everywhere but the Western Arm. While is possible that Velika was not quite the first Matoran sent to Karzahni, it seems he was an early one.

The discovery that, in early years, Karzahni had, in fact, competently fixed and returned Matoran sent a historiographic shockwave through the Bionicle community. Their Agori neighbours understood well enough that it was a surprising unveiling of mysteries when the earliest records of the Order of Mata Nui were unsealed, but they did not understand the smaller therein that, in the first few hundred years or so, every Matoran sent to Karzahni had returned, in perfect functioning order.

What kind of Great Being would allow himself to be fixed by Karzahni?

Why did Karzahni cease to competently perform the role for which he was made?

The fools, they would never know, Velika thought, nor understand, but just has he had given them thought, so too was he able to break it. His own broken arm had been a trivial wound, but he had become bored with East Po-Koro and had relished the opportunity to travel "by chance" to realm of repair. The Matoran Universe was no longer new, exactly, but the remnants of Spherus Magna were now far enough behind that he was willing to venture about and see what his changes to the Matoran had wrought--and where better to meet Matoran from all over the universe than where they were all repaired?

Karzahni had had him prepped genially, the bound-up arm unwound and laid beside him on the sterile surface, and the gentle titan started to knit him together carefully. Velika had smirked to himself, delighted at the fullness of his deception, when something--some tiny, trivial, unknowable, unpredictable instinct had made the titan pause.

"You're a strange one, aren't you?" he mused. Sedated, Velika didn't think he should answer, and maybe the sedation had even worked on him, a little, and he did not think to stop Karzahni as the titan tapped at his head, and the casing that should have housed a melding of silicate tissues and fine circuitry opened to reveal a wrinkled, grey lump of pulsating matter.

Even if he were a half-second slow under the sedation, that half-second had now passed, and Velika was indignant at being discovered. Even as Karzahni stepped back, baffled and a bit horrified at the un-Matoran brain he had discovered, Velika's eyes lit as he "woke" fully, and his good hand clutched at Karzahni's massive hand, and the titan could not break the grip.

"I look the same, don't I?" asked the apparent Po-Matoran, "but I am not--let me show you." And, with a wrench, his grip on Karzahni linked the titan's nervous system to his own, and Velika's thoughts coursed from his brain, through the apparently-Matoran body he inhabited, and into the Karzahni's nerves, leaping to his brain in less than an instant.

The visions Velika showed him awed the titan: visions of raw elemental power, of a knowledge of energised protodermis behind that of Artakha himself, of all that had come before, and of much that had happened since, and even as Karzahni struggled to comprehend the enormity of what he had just learned, Velika reached in and erased the memory of it--and then some.

Karzahni, now and forever more thereafter the Mad Titan, stumbled about, his eyes blinking furiously, and when he had calmed himself, though the world seemed to stop spinning, he saw the half-assembled Matoran on the operating table.

"Where was I…?"

"You were just about to improve me," said Velika. "To restore me."

And Karzahni did: alone of all the Matoran that had come to him yet, he sent Velika away changed from what he had been, and alone of all the Matoran that would come thereafter, he sent Velika away with no defect, though to the eyes of one accustomed to a standard Matoran, he was no longer that. All the Matoran that Karzahni fixed thereafter would resemble him in some form, but covering defects he could no longer repair. Only, in Velika, there was no defect: this was his chosen form.

[sugar-coated-prat-dragon]

Title: Gaius had to treat several of Arthur's servants in the past, who were injured during sparring sessions 🤕

Episode: "Valiant" questions #2

Questions by @tansyuduri

Tagging: @miyriu

Books used for reference: Valiant hardcover, The Magic Begins and Merlin Annual 2013

Question: There seems to be very few knights here, so likley there's preliminary tournaments being held?

My answer: There’s no preliminary tournament being held. Both the younger knights and the veteran ones participate in several matches a day to earn their way up the scoreboard.

On Arthur’s first day of the tournament, he had fight against Sir Alfred, Sir Pellinor and Sir Kai (in that exact order).

There were enough participants to keep the crowds entertained for nearly a week. So the rest of the first day and the following week were spent with continuous battles to get to the finales.

Book description:

Over the years Camelot's tournament had become increasingly popular, drawing more and more knights to the kingdom to compete. This year there were enough entrants to keep the crowds entertained for nearly a week and each of the arrivals had one goal - to be proclaimed the overall champion.

- Throughout the rest of the day, bout after bout brought thunderous appreciation from the assembled crowd.

Knights from across the realm fought long and hard to reach the next round. Whilst everyone in their crowd had their favourites in each contest, two names constantly found favour with the cheering mob: Arthur and Valiant.

- It had been a long day. The first days of a tournament were always busy as the more experienced knights quickly dispatched their less skilled opponents and moved on to the next round.

 Gaius had spent the day with a steady stream of patients, tending to cuts and bruises, to black eyes and sprained wrists. One of the younger knights had needed to have a broken finger put in a splint, but much to the knight's embarrassment.

- It was soon clear to Merlin why Arthur I was the reigning tournament champion.

He wasn't just strong, he was skilful too; it was more like watching a dance than a fight. The knight Alfred was quickly dealt with. Pellinor and Kai soon followed.

As Arthur dealt yet another winning blow, Merlin found himself cheering with the crowd. He hurriedly stopped himself - as if he wanted Arthur to win! The prince was quite big-headed enough as it was.

Question: Valiant says he is from the Western Isles?

Does he mean Ireland? I think he means Ireland?

My answer: The books never say specifically what the ‘Western Isles’ is called in modern day.

However, we do know according to the map, the Western Isles is past the Lake of Avalon, the Mountains of Andor and further than Caerleon’s castle.

It seems to be just outside the borders of Caerleon’s kingdom.

Question: When Arthur spars with Merlin in this episode using a sword and shield, he claims, "Most Servants collapse after the first blow.”

So who is he sparing with? Has Arthur been given manservants he didn't like before and would do this to make them quit?

My answer: Arthur commonly sparred with his servants.

In fact, Gaius recalled how he had to tend to several of Arthur’s former servants in the past and knew the damage the ‘practice fights’ could cause.

Gaius recognized that he’d have to stock up on healing balms and ointments, because Morris (Arthur's previous servant), was considerably sturdier than Merlin, and even he had been hurt on more than one occasion.

In the “Valiant” book, Arthur admits to have been unnecessarily hard on Merlin during sparring, and yet being surprised by how well he’d done.

The book also mentioned that Arthur would have sparred with other knights or servants, but everyone was busy preparing for the tournament and so he had only Merlin to spar against.

So that means Arthur typically spars with his knights (as we’ve also seen numerous times on the show) and therefore mostly uses his servant as a sparring partner when other people are busy.

Book description:

He stared across at where Arthur Pendragon twirled his sword in the early morning light. Arthur was determined to get in as much practice as he could before tomorrow. Unfortunately, practice meant that he had to have someone to practise with, and with all the other knights and servants concentrating on their own tournament strategies, that someone was Merlin.

- Arthur watched as Merlin staggered back to his feet and went to retrieve his helmet. Despite himself the prince had to admit that he was surprised at how well Merlin had stood up to the bout. Arthur had been unnecessarily hard on him.

- 'It was horrible!' protested Merlin. 'No, it was worse than horrible. Merlin, do this, Merlin, do that, Merlin, stand there whilst I whack you around the head with a sword.'

Gaius grimaced. He had tended to several of Arthur's servants in the past and knew the damage that these 'practice' bouts could inflict.

The difference was that Arthur's previous servant, Morris, had been considerably sturdier than Merlin, and even he had ended up in the physician's chambers on more than one occasion.

He would have to stock up on his healing balms and ointments.

i~| Question: Photo below 👇

My answer:

The novel specifically mentions that 'the Eastern knights' had the greatest following (after Camelot of course).

Camelot servants also considered it a great honor to be placed in their service during the tournament, because their curved swords and richly decorated tunics/cloaks, made them seem exotic and mysterious.

Given the curved sword the knight in the photo is weilding. It's likely he's a knight that hails from an eastern country.

Book description:

After the knights of Camelot, it was the eastern knights who had the greatest following.

With their curved swords and richly decorated tunics and cloaks, they seemed exotic and mysterious and to be placed in their service was considered a great honour.