#had to improvise when it came to some parts of the armor

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Blood Sport

Feyd Rautha x Y/N - drabble part 3 - 1.1K WC

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3 (you are here!)

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6 NSFW 18+

Masterlist

Warnings: violence, blood, blood eating/drinking, killing of darlings, reader in pain, pretty fluffy, reader is just built different, semi knife throwing?, slow burn, this man is falling slowly for you but you're falling harder

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Feyd opened your chamber doors to see his star disc still alight. You rested against the headboard of your bed looking rather sickly. The color of your face was dull and you had heavy bags beneath your eyes. 

“You again.” You croaked out, running a hand over your face. One of your nails cracked off, you groaned at the pain, sucking in a breath through your teeth.

“Me again.” He said with a slight look of concern. “Are you alright?” He looked around the dark room, the red glow from the star disc illuminated the empty jars you had originally brought with you from Succo. He remembered what they were filled with. “You’re… you drink…”

“Blood? Yes it is… an unfortunate affliction.” You sighed, steadying your breath as your head pounded. 

“Affliction?” He questioned.

You motioned to your fangs, “The original Sanguines survived off the blood of their enemies. With less people challenging House Cruor, the need for fangs and blood faded out. Yet I was fortunate enough to get them. It is my shame to carry despite it being seen as a sign of power.” 

“You’re hungry and it’s making you weak?” He asked, processing your words. 

You nodded, “I could still take you.” You said flitting your broken nail at him.

He dodged it at the last second, “Oh I bet you could.” He licked his lips before picking up one of the empty jars and walking out of your chambers. 

He returned some time later, you were on the edge of sleep. The door shutting startled you waking you up completely, you broke off another nail, ready to flit the sharp improvised weapon at him. “You just keep happening don’t you?”

“I��m known to be quite persistent.” He said with a smirk. He rounded the bed handing you a jar full of dark blood, darker than normal. 

You looked up at him, eyebrows drawn together. 

“My darlings must be disposed of before we wed. What better way than to have them drained for my future bride?” He said, sitting softly on the bed next to you.

You unscrewed the lid, the blood smelled… sour. But not unpleasantly so. Your mouth watered incessantly, you brought it to your lips gulping down a few sips before you gagged. You spit the blood back into the jar, “Fuck!” You said wiping your mouth before setting the jar on the bedside table. 

“What?” Feyd said with concern in his eyes.

“It’s… rotten.” You said with a sigh, the sickly blood taste still ruminating in your throat. 

Feyd’s eyes searched for another option before they stilled on you. “Can you drink without killing?” He asked.

You looked at him confused, “From a host?” You asked.

He nodded.

“Yes but… I cannot ask that of you.” You said.

He stood, taking off his chest armor and shirt. If you had any blood to spare you’d be blushing. His physique was strong, muscular yet lean. He was a beautiful shade of porcelain. Your eyes trailed all the way down to the ‘V’ that trailed below his waistband. If you weren’t so ill he would have teased you. He sat back down, closer to you. He cautiously brought a hand to your cheek, turning you to look at him. Your eyes were sad, full of shame. 

“No shame, only pleasure remains.” He said, gently pulling your head towards his neck.

You could smell his blood beneath his skin, hear it pulse with every heartbeat. Begrudgingly, you sank your teeth into his pulse point, mouth filling with what you could only describe as nectar of the gods. You and Feyd moaned in unison; you felt your nails regrow slowly, your cheeks fill with color, the bags under your eyes disappear. With every drink you felt stronger. You only came back to reality when you felt his hands on your waist. You pulled away, droplets of blood trailing down your chin to your neck. Your eyes glowed the most beautiful shade of red. You licked over the circular wounds, feeling them close beneath your tongue. 

Feyd sighed at the contact, eyes finding yours. “Good?” He whispered.

“Absolutely vile.” You said, wiping the corners of your mouth with a small smile. You gently took his hand, running your fingers over his knuckles. “Thank you.” 

He squeezed your hand in reassurance, “Anything for you… you look…” he trailed off quietly.

“Horrific? I know the blood and fangs and eyes are… abnormal.” You looked down, beginning to pull your hand away from his. 

“Enchanting.” He said holding your hand between his large ones.

You looked up, for once you heard your own heartbeat. It was so quick you feared it might stop. “How long until we wed?” You asked looking at his face. It was growing less loathsome by the day. For someone so psychotic he didn’t act like it. 

“We should rest…” you said.

“Together?” He asked.

“If you wish it.” You smiled softly. 

Feyd stood, putting his shirt back on much to your dismay. He laid next to you in the large bed. A great distance between you, he did not want to push your boundaries. You smiled at him, your glowing red eyes captivating him before they closed. You drifted off rather quickly while he couldn’t help but watch you sleep. He wondered if you could ever love him. Ever… want him, in the way he was growing to want you. It was consuming his black heart and he wished for nothing more than you to return his… love.

————————————-

Your body twitched slightly as your mind raced. Visions of Feyd’s life flashing before your eyes as you slept. His blood coursing through you gave you insight into his life. You saw the Baron… he did… unspeakable things to Feyd. Tortured him. Abused him in every way. Made Feyd this killing machine with no conscience. Tears slipped down your unconscious face as you began mumbling, wishing to help him but completely unable to. With a final hit from the Baron you shot up, gasping for air as if the wind had been knocked out of you. You felt a hand touch you before you flinched away from it. You looked over seeing Feyd and his worried gaze. Without thinking you pulled yourself into him. Breathing him in. 

He faltered for only a moment, before wrapping his strong arms around you, “What is it little love?”

His words soothed your heart but you couldn’t bear to tell him what you saw, what you knew of him. “Night terror…” you said monotonously. “Stay with me?” You almost begged him.

“Always.” He said, holding you to his chest as he laid you both down. You shifted making yourself comfortable before listening to his rhythmic heartbeat. 

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Naboo's Note:

Hello! Last nights post inspired me so much I just kept it all going. If there are errors please have a little grace I wrote this on my phone and did not proof read it because I wanted to get it out before work. I hope ya'll enjoy it and I can't wait to post part 4 - things are gonna heat up! XOXOXOXOXOXO

[howtofightwrite]

Hi fight writer! Longtime follower, I always enjoy seeing your work and the situations people put their characters in. X3 Could I ask you to look over an element of character backstory for me, to see how realistic it is?

Character is an itinerant-knight sort of fellow, fantasy setting, elven. He's missing a chunk of his ear on one side, having lost it in a fight -- but not in the usual way of getting it sliced. It's the reason he swears by using a helmet and will not let any of his students go ahead into battle without head protection. The premise I had was that somebody gave him a blow to the side of the head and the helmet he was wearing crumpled from the force, pinning the ear between skull and metal. When the helmet was peeled off, a chunk of the ear came with it, or was basically so pinched off and dead that it had to be amputated anyway. (It also gave him a whopper of a concussion, of course. ^^;) But if he hadn't been wearing the helmet? It wouldn't have just been the ear, it would have been the whole top of his head. Wear your helmets, kids.

Do you think the helmet would have had to be damaged in some way beforehand for this to happen? Or be of shoddy make? Or would the opponent have to be supernaturally strong? Thank you!

So, this question has been sitting in the inbox for a bit, and part of that is that I've had difficulty parsing the question. There's a few reasons for this, but a major element is how much of the above comment isn't part of the question.

I get that most of this is a setup for a simple, “what do you think of my idea?' and those are questions we generally avoid, simply because, “thumbs up, it works.” Or, if there are serious problems, it feels like punching down.

So, in answer, “it's fine.” You don't even really need to justify it with other factors. Someone swinging a hammer at your head can result in your head protection failing. I think we can safely scratch off the supernatural strength option, simply because that's more likely to turn the character's head into an improvised golf ball, rather than taking out an ear. This is a weirdly specific injury, but it's also the kind of injury that could, potentially, happen on the battlefield.

Ironically, the weakest part to this concept is just that a combat veteran wouldn't automatically value head protection unless they'd suffered a disfiguring injury which would have been dramatically worse if they weren't wearing a helmet.

Helmets get into a weird place for a lot of writers. A lot of visual media hates putting characters in helmets (even when they really should be wearing one), because it hides the character's face. There is a legitimate concern here (specifically in visual media), because if multiple characters are wearing uniform helmets, they will become visually interchangeable, so skipping the helmet is about keeping the characters more recognizable. This creates a situation where, in a lot of cases, a helmet is treated like an alternate haircut option, completely glazing over the part where it's extremely important safety equipment.

To a certain extent, the treatment of helmets as cosmetics also extends to the entirety of a character's armor. You see this anytime you have partially armored characters going into battle. In some cases, there may be legitimate reasons for omitting specific armor pieces, and not having the resources to be fully armored is always a real possibility, but skipping the head or torso armor are extremely questionable decisions.

The, “pinched off,” comment always struck me as a bit strange. It sounds like the ear was held away from the skull, with part of the helm inserted between the ear and skull, rather than held up against the head. This would be a bad idea, and a structural weakness, though depending on the exact physiology of your elves, it might not be possible for them to pin their ears against their skull. In which case their armor would need to be specifically designed around their physiology. That might mean a much broader helmet structure. For example similar to something like large flared guard on Japanese helmets, or even the ACH. Depending on the overall tech level, it's possible that the best solution would to simply have ear holes in the helmet, though this could result in a situation where ears could be cut off on rare occasions.

I suppose there'd also be some consideration for rigidity and how uncomfortable it would be to bind down their ears under a helmet. So there might be some kind of structural cutout to accommodate their ears, but again, you really wouldn't want your ears being encased in metal away from the head. Even in the worst case, with horizontal ear tips, you'd probably see helmet designs that fit over the ear, possibly even leaving the underside exposed for better hearing, rather than full metal encasement.

Ironically, having just brought up the ACH, the one place where fully encased ears wouldn't surprise me is with electronic headsets. Though, again, that's more likely to be plastic and softer materials, and would likely fit over the ear and seal against the scalp, rather than just encasing the ear itself.

Also, he'd be partially deaf in that ear. This is not, “deaf by human standards,” but impaired hearing by elven standards. Unless their ears really are just magical, and the tips are performative, it's extremely likely that their ear structure would result in improved hearing, and that's something he would lack if most of the external ear had been destroyed.

-Starke

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[psychologicalwarclaire]

Hello. Anon from earlier.

Since you've already uncovered my plan (that I obviously tried very hard to hide), I figured I'd try to save myself some research (aka hours and hours of rereading).

And so, questions.

Of course, I do not want you to go to too much trouble, but I am wondering if you have a list or something of what injuries Donnie and Leo sustained at what points, and uh...bandages and other medical stuff, as well as the state of their masks and armour and stuff, that would be super helpful.

Oh! Also. I feel like my brain is making stuff up, because I felt like the part where Big Mama threw Leo in the cell with Viper was like, a full scene, but I can't find it, just the summary in the next chapter. But, that's just a little side tangent. Uh...Leo's other marking. What exactly did she do to them?

Continuing the little tangent, I absolutely loved the detail of Leo hearing Donnie calling out to him. When I read it, I was still kind of in denial, but at the same time, Donnie had been calling Leo's name when Viper hurt him the first time, so it makes sense that he'd imagine it. So I rationalized that in my mind, and then broke when it was revealed that Donnie was actually calling him. Very well played. The details like that are my favourite part of this fic~

Hello again, Anon! Absolutely wonderful timing on the ask, as getting to talk about Spiders Web always cheers me up.

I have been WAITING for this day! MONTHS ago I made a table of physical and emotional damage as well as treatments in order to attempt to keep track of the violence. FINALLY I GET TO USE IT!

Be prepared for kinda blurry pictures and long (medically inaccurate) rants below! HAHAHAHAAA!

Not proper grammar and not in chronological order, but the info should be there. I may have missed some stuff because sometimes I improvise, but I think that should be all.

I am also not a medical professional in any way, shape, or form, so I have no clue how accurate any of this stuff is.

ALSO, I know this whole list can be overwhelming so it's totally okay if you don't want to show every scratch and scrape. But if you want to, go right ahead!

Bandages/medical stuff - Just assume that in any point in time either of the twins have at least one red bandage on them at any given time from chapter seven to fourteen. I think. I think Big Mama just kinda stopped giving Astros bandages, and Tyrian didn't fight at all from when we died until the Labyrinth Lollapalooza.

Armor (what it looks like can be found HERE) - hooo boyyy.... I didn't keep track of the armor quite as much. Up until chapter fourteen, Donnie's battleshell kept getting more and more beat up. I think at some point some of the panels came out. Leo's blue scarf would get bloodstained and dirty after fights, but he'd rinse it out in the shower so it was relativly clean? Just torn and ragged as time went on. I think the kneepads would be scuffed up, but other than that their armor would look fine. I never found a place to mention it, but bellhops would come around and collect their armor for cleaning/replacing between fights. The fighters may have been damaged but Big Mama wanted their armor to be nice and shiny under the spotlights.

As for masks, Leo lost his to Viper. Donnie's was taken after Heinous Green bashed his head in (Big Mama thought it best that her champions matched. And also in case she needed some of Donnie's DNA for nefarious purposes). I am also now realizing that @drsmer and I never showed you guys what their masks for the final fight looked like... hmm....

Big Mama threw Leo in a cell with Viper near the end of chapter 16. I didn't actually describe the time in there with Viper, and only detailed the aftermath. I thought it best to let y'all's imagination take over for that one.

Leo's other markings (the ones on his arms and legs) just had the top part sliced into. I think.

OOO fun behind the scenes time! I decided that their cells were next to each other and that they could hear each other by complete accident. I was writing near two friends who read the fic but didn't know Donnie was alive (love ya dear, @rocky-again and @danger-noodle4 ), and one friend who has not watched Rise but DID know that Donnie was alive because I talk a lot.

This piece of writing below is a LIVE REACTION of me mapping out the chapter in a notes document and then realizing that in the layout of the Nexus, their cells would be next to each other and they could hear each other.

Because even I am not immune to angst, I started silently freaking out but couldn't tell the two turtle fan friends about it, so I had to write it out to Kate to make her UNDERSTAND how ANGSTY it was.

It must have been quite the scene. Sorry for the long story, but thought you should know the fun origins of the very angsty detail.

Alrighty, I hope I answered all of your questions! If you need anything else, don't hesitate to send me another ask. I wish you well on your endeavors, whatever they may be 👀

[mariacallous]

The Greeks had their chariots. Patton had his tanks. Now, a handful of soldiers are riding into combat in one of the most unusual-looking vehicles in the history of warfare: an armed Cybertruck.

In a video posted to messaging platform Telegram last week, Ramzan Kadyrov, the leader of Russia’s Chechnya region, showed off a pair of Tesla’s distinctive boxy electric pickup trucks painted forest green and armed with what appear to be Soviet-era DShK 12.7 x 108 mm heavy machine guns—vehicles he claimed had been sent to fight alongside Russian forces taking part in the country’s ongoing invasion of Ukraine.

The footage shows the vehicles patrolling down a dirt road as part of a four-vehicle platoon, with several soldiers manning their weapons mounted on their truck beds and blasting airborne targets out of the sky.

“Mobility, convenience, maneuverability: such qualities of an electric vehicle are in great demand here,” Kadyrov wrote on Telegram.

The new footage came just over a month after Kadyrov published an initial video to Telegram showing off a Cybertruck armed with a Russian Kord 12.7 x 108 mm heavy machine gun. That Cybertruck, Kadyrov claimed in a separate Telegram post made the day before unveiling the fresh pair of vehicles, had recently been disabled “remotely” by Tesla chief Elon Musk, who had previously denied gifting the notorious warlord the vehicle in the first place, likely because it’s prohibited under US sanctions on Russia.

“This is not manly,” Kadyrov seethed on Telegram over the remote shutoff. (Tesla did not immediately respond to WIRED’s request for comment.)

It was only a matter of time before some enterprising combatant somewhere slapped a machine gun on a Cybertruck. Both regular militaries and irregular forces around the world have been whipping up “technicals”—or “nonstandard tactical vehicles” improvised from civilian rides—for more than a century. While the general concept of armored cars outfitted with firearms presaged the outbreak of World War I by at least a decade, the conflict accelerated their production and fielding—and, in moments of necessity, innovation. In one of the earliest documented manifestations of the technical, French navy lieutenant Maxime François Émile Destremau prepared a defense of the strategically important coaling station in the city of Papeete in Tahiti against a pair of German cruisers in September 1914 by tearing six 37 mm cannons off the warship under his command and mounting them on six Ford trucks to repel potential landing parties, according to the 2004 book On Armor. As long as the automobile has existed, so has the technical.

The technical as most defense observers know it, built on commercial flatbed pickup trucks like the rugged and reliable Toyota Hilux and Land Cruiser, became a fixture of modern irregular warfare during the so-called “Toyota War” of the 1980s that saw militia forces from Chad achieve a decisive victory over the Libyan military thanks to the superior mobility and maneuverability afforded by their lightweight vehicles. (Chadian forces discovered that, at an appropriately high speed, technicals could traverse open areas mined with Soviet-era munitions without risk of setting them off.)

Since then, technicals have become a fixture of conflicts like the US military campaigns in Afghanistan and Iraq, the Syrian and Libyan Civil Wars, and now the Russian invasion of Ukraine. And those conflicts continued to prompt a flurry of novel innovations when it comes to improvised fighting vehicles. Examples include Libyan militants mounting a S-5 rocket pod meant for an aircraft on the back of a truck and a Land Cruiser outfitted with a Russian-made 14.5 mm ZPU-2 antiaircraft gun that American soldiers traded two cans of chewing tobacco for to secure Hamid Karzai International Airport in Kabul during the US withdrawal from Afghanistan in 2021—the latter of which is now in a US military museum. (Does a DShK on a shopping cart count as a technical? That’s up for debate.)

All of those innovations open up the question: Will an armed Cybertruck actually make for a good technical on the battlefield?

Despite the many issues that have plagued the Cybertruck since its release, the vehicle isn’t necessarily the worst option. While the Cybertruck currently has a maximum range of 340 miles (or 500 miles with an extra battery pack)—well behind the roughly 570- to 700-mile range of the Hilux—the former is actually quicker, capable of accelerating up to 60 mph between 2.6 and 3.9 seconds, depending on the model, a noteworthy achievement given the vehicle’s size and weight.

In terms of safeguarding its occupants from external threats like small arms fire, the Cybertruck’s steel “exoskeleton” offers purportedly superior protection to that of the conventional pickup truck, a feature that Tesla has been quick to flaunt on promotional materials. Finally, the Cybertruck, as an electric vehicle, is freakishly quiet, offering an element of stealth that the US Defense Department in particular has eyed in recent years compared to other fossil-fuel-powered ground vehicles.

“There are some attributes that work,” David Tracy, a cofounder of the car website The Autopian and a former auto engineer, tells WIRED. “It’s off-road capable and has big 35-inch tires and good ground clearance. It has stainless steel panels that can take some amount of abuse. From a defense standpoint—as in, ‘How safe am I in the vehicle?’—if you were to take a stock Hilux or a stock Cybertruck, the Cybertruck would probably be the better choice in a firefight.”

If technicals are built for speed and maneuverability, then the Cybertruck “offers significant benefits over the Hilux,” Tracy says.

“It is absolutely, absurdly quick,” he says. “In a drag race between the two, the Hilux would be an ant in the Cybertruck’s rearview mirror. If you need speed and agility, and it isn’t necessarily going through rigorous off-roading or being fired upon regularly, then it could actually work fine.”

Despite these potential tactical benefits, defense analysts aren’t convinced the Cybertruck has a place on the modern battlefield. As retired Marine colonel Mark Cancian, a senior adviser at the Center for Strategic and International Studies think tank, tells WIRED, the armed vehicles flaunted by Kadyrov on Telegram “are totally cool and totally useless.”

“They are cool because they look like something out of a video game and portray Kadyrov as a sort of futuristic warlord,” Cancian tells WIRED in an email. “They are useless because they don't provide a new capability, except perhaps a bit of stealth.”

Indeed, the Cybertruck is not totally suited for hostile and chaotic environments like the front lines of the Russian invasion of Ukraine. First, the EV’s exoskeleton actually consists of steel panels attached to a standard “unibody” frame that’s more akin to the chassis of a conventional car rather than the “body-on-frame” design of most pickup trucks like the Hilux. This design, according to Motor Trend, makes the former a weaker and less resilient vehicle. Second, while the Cybertruck is certainly off-road capable, it’s still significantly heavier than Hilux, which can make maneuverability and traction on rough terrain a challenge. Third, while its armor portends to offer at least some additional coverage compared to the conventional pickup truck-based technical, the vehicle’s bulletproofing only appears to work with subsonic rounds like the .45 ACP ammo used in Tesla’s tests and not the ubiquitous NATO-standard 5.56 mm round or, say, a shot from a .50 caliber rifle. (Though, to be fair, aftermarket armor packages for the vehicle do exist.)

Beyond design and engineering challenges, there’s also the critical matter of maintenance and logistics, the lifeblood of any motorized conflict. As Tracy points out, the Cybertruck’s unique complexity and software-forward design (like the lack of a physical connection between steering wheel and wheels) means a distinct lack of spare parts and higher potential for catastrophic system failures, challenges that all but guarantee that the vehicle is unable to operate reliably and ensure consistent uptime—not necessarily ideal for troops whose lives may depend on them.

“Simplicity is everything; simplicity and parts availability,” Tracy says. “If you’re driving a complex vehicle and there’s a failure of some sort and you need someone to flash it with a computer, you’re hosed if you’re in the middle of nowhere. The beauty of the Hilux is that they’re very tough, for one, but they can be repaired with simple tools and fairly ubiquitous parts. The Cybertruck does not really make a whole lot of sense in that regard.”

“It’s great that it is safe in a crash and can take a bullet,” he adds. “But if you break a control arm and can’t get the part, it’s pretty useless.”

Plus, the Cybertruck’s reliance on charging stations would make a fleet of armed vehicles “likely impossible to support” in any sort of protracted conflict like that taking place in Ukraine, according to CSIS’s Cancian.

“I doubt there are garages or mechanics near the front lines who can fix these complex devices, which are so unlike the fossil fuel vehicles that the region is accustomed to,” he says. “Further, I doubt there are many recharging stations in the battle area. Unlike with fossil fuel vehicles, where the fuel can be brought to the vehicle if necessary, the Cybertrucks must go to the recharging point.”

How the Cybertruck will actually perform in a combat situation remains to be seen. But if the Kadyrov video is any indication, it’s only a matter of time before an armed Cybertrucks makes the transition from YouTube sensation to tried-and-true, battle-tested technical.

[falkenphoenix]

How to impress Vivec with the help of a friend aka two dorks being the dorks they are~

So for one I wanted to make something as a present for @skitamine since she’s such an amzing friend and such a lovely person~! And for two I wanted to draw Uno and Val together since she created him xD

Can’t wait for the shenanigans that will happen~

Uno Dostres belongs to the amazing @skitamine~ and Valendryn is mine 

Also  of course i work for hours on the first doodle i made in a week or so

[reds-burrow]

Do y'all want another way to think of the Secondaries? No? Well, too bad! I have a theory that the secondaries exist on a continuum with a clear relationship to subconscious and conscious thought. In this essay, I will

Um, yeah, no, prepare for another one of my essays below the cut.

Ready? Okay, so I propose that Straightforward Secondaries are largely led by their subconscious intuition while Circumventing Secondaries are led by conscious thought. To be clear, I am not saying this is a 100%, 24/7 situation. It's fair to say most of us have listened to both our conscious and subconscious minds at some point. What I want to focus on here is what people trust and are more comfortable with using to guide them. So, for the Secondaries, I'm talking about what a person finds most comfortable using to solve problems.

We can see this with how the Secondaries solve the problem of social interactions. Lions and Badgers being true to themselves is largely informed by their subconscious; what feels like them is intuitive. This is how you get Courtier Badgers who come out of a social situation surprised with themselves because of what came out while they were mirroring others. Since it is a mostly subconscious process, the Courtier Badger doesn't realize until later how they had shaped themself to others. This could also explain why Straightforward Secondaries have more trouble lying. Even if they don't have moral objections from their Primary, Lion Secondaries describe lying as stressful, exhausting, and uncomfortable. That's because successful lying is a conscious act, requiring you to knowingly misrepresent something while considering what is believable to the other person. Prolonged lying is work, a stress that Straightforward Secondaries aren't used to.

Meanwhile the social armor Birds and Snakes have uses a more conscious thought process, showing other people what they want or need to see while keeping the Bird or Snake's vulnerabilities hidden. This may be another part of why Snakes and Birds can seem cold to some people. While a Snake or Actor Bird can learn a mask or role so well that it becomes a part of them, and thus a subconscious act, the act of choosing which face to put on is a calculated choice.

And this pattern carries on when looking outside of the Multiplayer half of secondaries to the Single-Player half. Circumventing Secondaries continually reassess the situation, making sure there isn't an easier way to solve the problem. This reassessing is, again, a conscious act. Meanwhile, Straightforward Secondaries trust their intuition to guide them, as they tend to trust that their first instinct on how to tackle a problem is the best way to handle it.

So, is that it? Instead of Straightforward and Circumventing, should we really be calling them Subconscious and Conscious Secondaries? Well, no. I'm afraid things aren't so simple. Many of you probably caught that I referred to the secondaries as being on a continuum. I believe that continuum looks something like this:

(SUB) Lions - Badgers and Snakes - Birds (CON)

Badgers and Snakes trust a mix of both their subconscious and conscious minds when solving problems. This is why, while mirroring others is a largely a subconscious process, Courtier Badgers are comfortable editing what energy they want to put out into the world. Conversely, while Snakes can consciously lead conversations in the directions they want, they use a lot of instinct on how to get there. In fact, improvising is a mostly gut instinct reaction in Snake Secondaries.

This brings us to another important point: Built and Improvisational Secondaries. Improvisational Secondaries rely mostly on their gut instincts when improvising. Built Secondaries rely on looking back on their previous experiences and knowledge that they've gathered over time and considering how they can apply what they learned in the past to the present situation. Again, we have a clear link to intuition and thought: Improvisational Secondaries trust the subconscious mind and Built Secondaries use the conscious mind to guide them.

This is one of the ways you can tell the difference between a Lion or Snake versus a Rapid-Fire Bird or Coiled Spring Badger. All of them can improvise under the right circumstances, but because it's a more conscious process for Built Secondaries they can explain what knowledge or experience they have that informs them that whatever solution they're scrounging up will work. In media, you will almost always have the Built Secondary explain the reasoning behind their improvisation to the audience. Meanwhile, for Improvisational Secondaries relying on intuition, they often can't fully explain their reasoning in the moment.

So, how does this look with the Multiplayer side of the secondaries? While the Circumventing Secondaries protect themselves with social armor, Snakes improvise this protective layer in the moment according to what they read from their audience, but Actor Birds need time and preparation to build their role. It is often difficult for Actor Birds to go with their gut and go off script. While a Snake can react to new people in the moment using their intuition, Actor Birds do much better if they know what their audience will expect of them so that they can mentally prepare before they hit the stage.

Courtier Badgers need to build in a very similar way. It's often difficult and tiring for them to cold read people and mirror without taking the time to get to know their audience. They are more comfortable forming their reactions off of what they learn over time versus initial subconscious reactions. And given enough time, Courtier Badgers can build themselves into what they see the people around them need them to be.

But what about Lion Secondaries? Well, it's comparing apples and oranges to compare the other Multiplayer skills to the brash honesty we all think of when we think of Lions. That authenticity isn't a Multiplayer skill so much as a Neutral state. But you know what skill Lions do use in Multiplayer situations? Lying. As I touched on before, it can be difficult for Straightforward Secondaries to misrepresent consciously what they know to be true, so Lions lie by emphasizing the parts of the lie they consider the truth. They magnify certain pieces of themself, such as magnifying the bit of them that is happy to be eating food their friend made, even if they hate that particular dish. This, I would argue, is related to how Courtier Badgers mirror by emphasizing the parts of themselves they see their audience needs. The difference is that Lions are comfortable magnifying pieces of themselves like this without knowing their audience, using whatever piece of themselves intuitively fits the moment, while Courtier Badgers prefer building on input from their audience.

As for our final Secondary descriptors, Solid and Fluid, I'm afraid I don't have much more to say that I haven't already. Looking at my proposed continuum, Fluid Secondaries are the ones in the middle of the continuum with Solid on either side, implying that reading and reacting to people in a Fluid way needs a mix of both subconscious intuition and conscious thought. More specifically that Fluid Secondaries tend to rely more on conscious processes to read people, as with Badgers building a rapport and understanding with their audience and Snakes continually reassessing their audience while circumventing, while reacting, whether its a Badger mirroring or a Snake improvising, is a more subconscious process for Fluid Secondaries.

Bonus thought:

If you've taken the time to read this far, I figure we might as well go all the way and acknowledge there is a very similar continuum in the Primaries. I suggest:

(SUB) Internal - External (CON)

(SUB) Felt - Constructed (CON)

So, again, we have a continuum like this:

(SUB) Lion - Badger and Snake - Bird (CON)

[asleepinawell]

Shoot in elden ring? Opinions on class/builds?

oh man. hmmm. it's tough when I've only played through with one build and am just starting on a second one but I can pull from knowledge of previous games I guess.

the one thing that's tough here is that I feel elden ring more than previous games really forces you to commit to a build and weapon/spell set more due to the balance issues near the end of the game and that in general it's easier to fall into maxing out damage from one stat rather than trying an interesting hybrid build. which makes it tough because both root and shaw are really flexible in terms of abilities. part of what makes them so efficient is their ability to improvise and work with any tools. so I'll give you what I think makes sense in terms of how they operate even if they might not be the most efficient or successful builds in game to play with

shaw: primarily a melee build but has a bow for sniper opportunities. I'd see her as having enough points in str and dex both to be able to wield some of the fancier hybrid weapons, but I think she'd favor dex. shaw is usually much smaller than her opponents in the show and her fighting style works to quickly disable/stun/take down people rather than relying on brute strength...but she does also like shooting people with big guns haha. overall shaw is strategic and stealthy when needed which also works with the dex build. she probably has some points in faith at well, enough to do some basic healing for herself and others. I kind of like the idea of her having some points in arcane because it increases discovery if you think of shaw as being observant and resourceful it kinda tracks...not too sure it's practical for the build though. despite all of that, no, shaw would not use the infamous rivers of blood because she is Too Cool. also think she'd use craftable items heavily.

armor set: black knife armor

weapons: I haven't inspected the full range of dex weapons enough but maybe the black knife to go with her armor. just go full tiche.

spirit ash: lone wolf ashes

root: she has like nine rivers of blood under her goth cloak and trolls people in pvp with them. she could destroy people with the most basic starting sword but she finds it funnier to use rivers of blood and moonveil because she's just an asshole like that. for build though, int/dex hybrid build. root has always struck me as a rogue and is definitely into the fancier more complex melee weapons and finding unique uses for weapon art skills. but she also uses sorcery. my lore knowledge on the source of sorcery is limited (despite having played an int build 😩) but I think a lot of it came from the stars and primeval...thingies...and maybe you can make some parallel about her deriving her power from a higher entity with the machine or something? sure. anyway she can absolutely cast the fuck off laser beam when needed but she relies more on situational spells, like exploiting the firing delay on magic glintblade, night comet and ambush shard, putting frostbite on enemies, doing magic stealth (wish they had an illusion spell for her), etc. root also has the bastard's stars flail because of course she does.

armor set: she has all of them of course and wears the mushroom one to piss off shaw. prefers one of the gother ones usually maybe like alberich or fia's set, but also rocks the rotten gravekeeper cloak to fuck with shaw.

weapons: root shows up to the team meeting three days late dual wielding moonveil and rivers of blood. when not being an asshole she prefers a smaller set of dex weapons with bleed damage and a staff...maybe the prince of death's staff for The Aesthetic even if it's not the best fit for her build

spirt ash: mimic tear obviously

also you didn't ask but john is a pure str build. he has 0 points in int or faith. he dumped them all in str and maybe a few in endurance. he's never heard of a shield or dodging he's dual wielding 2 handers and running straight into battle. is he screaming due to the joy of battle? or because he's on fire? yes.

thank you, anon, for allowing me to be a huge nerd

[boontaeveboba]

Sore Loser

Pairing: Hunter x fem!reader

Rating: M (18+ ONLY)

Warnings: this is some straight up smut (PiV), little bit of roughing around/dominant Hunter

Who ever had designed Kamino’s supply closet had not been very forgiving, but at the same time, they probably had not been designed for hooking up in, merely a stash of supplies, cleaning products and the occasional broom.

It wasn’t romantic, stars, it wasn’t even comfortable, but there is no way you would have made it back to your quarters the way the two of you were worked up.

Training had been rough. Each clone had been evaluated for individual assessment, as opposed to the squad, and for extra measure they were up against you.

Sure their were plenty of other hired bounty hunters, Jedi and droids to fight with, but you provided a different set of skills to combat; how to handle separating friendship from survival.

Hunter had been quick to pick up your movements and you had to abandon your usual attacks and charges. Every incoming hit, he saw ahead of time. He never attacked, only defended, studying you closely as each move was made.

It was time for improvisation.

He circled around you, waiting for your next attack, when you let your mind clear, no more planning ahead, you thought, instinct only.

And that was how, only a few short minutes later, you found yourself straddling the Sergeant in the middle of the training field, his viroblade strewn aside and your training blaster firmly pressed under his chin.

As the Kaminoan’s called for your assistance reseting, you saw Hunter slink off to his brothers, watching Wrecker place a reassuring hand to his shoulder.

“You’ll get her next time. No one could have seen that final move coming.” You heard Wrecker tell him.

“Statistically, there was a 1 in 2,531 chance of her ever beating you.” Tech quipped.

“It just happened to be this time.” Crosshair sneered.

When the team finally left and you were dismissed and you let out a sigh of exhaustion. You were ready for rest.

Lucky for you, that wouldn’t come til much later.

The halls were dark as the ever present storms of Kamino ragged on, you almost missed the figure sliding beside you.

His red bandana flashed as he jumped in front of you, attempting to scare you.

“I heard you coming.” You laughed.

Hunter laughed too, “but will you know what’s coming next?”

“Next? Hunter I have to-” but your sentence wasn’t finished as he cut you off with a quick peck.

“What if someone sees?” You hissed as pulled back, laughing at your sour expression.

“They won’t, not if you come with me.” He responded, extending a hand to yours.

Hesitantly, you took it and then found yourself being yanked into a supply closet you hadn’t know was next to you.

Lips immediately pressed into yours as your back crashed into shelving.

“Ouch!” You yelped.

“That’s what you get for earlier.”

“Hunter, that was strictly professional!”

“And so is this,” he said, yanking your shirt over your head.

“I’m never going to hear the end of getting my butt kicked by a training officer.” He growled nipping and biting at the newly exposed skin of your chest.

“Not just any training officer?” You smirked. “The one you’ve been sleeping with for the past few months? Let’s not forget.”

Hunter let out an annoyed groan before shoving his face in-between your tits. His hands reached around and fondled your ass.

“Seeing you so, so intuitive, so natural at taking me down,” he mused, in-between now sucking each breast while palming the other, “it was so...”

“Sooo...?” You raked your fingernails down his head through his hair, tugging softly on the ends.

“So hot.” He groaned. “I’ve never seen you look like that.” He raised back up to kiss you again.

As he continued to kiss you, you ran a hand down along his armor, searching for clasps to undo the codpiece.

“Let me.” He said softly, pulling back so he could take off the plastoid covering him.

Stripped down now to only in his blacks you ran your hand along the prominent bulge in his pants.

“Look, I’m already hard at this point, you don’t need to tease.”

“Maybe I should help you out with that?” You said sweetly sinking down to your knees.

Hunter backed up slightly to give you more room in the cramped space. He rolled down his blacks and underwear freeing his stuff cock.

You placed a kiss at his tip, before licking a stripe from the base to the end.

Smirking mirthlessly at him you spoke, “but I don’t think losers deserve a reward.”

You stood back up.

“That’s it.” Hunter snapped.

He grabbed your shoulders and spun you around. He slammed you up against a free wall.

“I’ll show what a loser like me can do.”

Unceremoniously, he yanked down your pants and underwear, and began groping your ass.

You turned your head to look at him, but he swatted you lightly.

“Do not move unless I say so. Got it?”

You nodded.

“I can’t hear you.” He growled.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes Hunter.”

“Good.” He came closer to you, one hand on your hip anchoring you between him and the wall.

The other hand was making its way towards your dripping cunt.

“What’s this? All for me?”

“Yes Hunter.”

One finger began swirling inside, while another sought out your most sensitive spot.

“Who knew training could get you so worked up?” He purred bringing his mouth to the shell of your ear.

You whined and pressed your ass against his straining cock.

“No no baby.” He said continuing his ministrations, slowly. “I don’t know if a loser like me should let you have that. It might ruin your reputation.”

You hissed as he added another finger to you, “sorry you suck at training sims.”

“What was that?” He yanked his hand away and you whined again at the loss of contact.

“Maybe you don’t deserve this cock then.” He said backing up slightly and running a hand up and down himself.

Not wanting to risk fully turning around, you glanced over your shoulder at him stroking himself.

“You want it?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” He repeated.

“Yes Hunter, please.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I’m not a sore loser,” he said coming back up behind you lining himself up with your entrance from behind. “I can’t say the same about you though,” he slid his full length in you eliciting a loud moan from you “at least the sore part.”

You could hear the smirk in his voice with that last part.

His hands found your hips and he began thrusting into you.

“How are you this tight every time?” He said, between gritted teeth.

Your arms were splayed in front of you bracing yourself as he slid in and out.

“How do you always fill me up so well.?” You responded.

He only let out a soft chuckle to that. “You’re so good to me. So tight. You take me so well.”

You closed your eyes enjoying the feeling of Hunter pounding into you. A free hand of his roamed over your front, squeezing your tits together.

“And so soft.”

You dipped one of your own hands down the front of your body, finger finding your clit, you let out a slow moan.

“Oh no you don’t,” said Hunter and he quickly replaced that hand with his own. “I may not have won today, but I will certainly be collecting a reward of my own.”

His hips slapped against your backside at bruising pace and his fingers found that sweet and most sensitive spot, pushing you over the edge, causing you to gush over him.

“Hunter!” You cried out, your hips jerking back to his.

He didn’t let up.

“Come on baby, I know you have more than one in you. I saw it earlier. You were just as turned on as I was when you knocked me down earlier. I was completely defenseless, just like you are now.”

You felt him, deeper, borderline to bottoming you out.

“C’mon baby, let go for me.”

Your legs trembled and you felt weak as he drove another orgasm from you, his own not far behind. The two of you riding the wave of pleasure until you felt as if you would fall over, you were so exhausted.

Pulling out, Hunter then flipped out around, searching your eyes. “You alright?”

“Never better.” You smiled at him.

He smiled back and pressed a kiss to your mouth.

“I should kick your ass more often if I knew this would be the result.” You told him.

He through his head back and laughed, laughed!

“That was a one time thing, I’m afraid.” He said pulling his blacks up and tossing you your discarded shirt.

“So sure?” You asked him, as he began buckling armor again.

“Positive sweetheart. But this hooking up in the supply closet, definitely not.”

Now it was your turn to laugh.

[ohheyitsokay]

fear

pairing: Din Djarin (the Mandalorian) x reader

wordcount:2.6k

warnings: allusions to unhealthy views of relationships, angst with a happy ending? mostly fluffy, you guys know me by now

summary: you had always been told that power brought destruction. why wouldn’t you be afraid of the most powerful man you’d ever met? 

>>

“Wait, Mandalorian,” you called, voice trembling - but gratitude was more powerful than fear. He didn’t stop trudging through the outskirts of your little town, steady, as though he hadn’t heard you.

“Please,” you tried again, a touch annoyed that he was making you chase after him, and the warrior mercifully slowed to a stop. He did not turn around, he was not that polite, but his helmet did shift, and that was enough to give you the courage you needed.

You averted your eyes as you placed yourself in front of him, but stared at his knees with determination as you held out your arms, gift light in weight and heavy in value.

“I know you said you would not take extra payment, but you need this, and we will no accept no for an answer.” You had rehearsed the words with every step you’d taken towards his back, but still they came out unsteady.

“No,” he said, and you almost imagined laughter in his voice, but it was not mocking, and it pierced through your hesitation.

Sand ground against his feet as he went to move, and again under yours as you dug in your heels, venturing to look the mask full on.

“Please reconsider – it is a med kit with high quality bacta tools.” You tried to look as confident as you felt.

The Mandalorian's helmet tilted at you again, as he said, “What?”

Finally you had his full attention.

“My family, harvests from destroyed med droids sometimes, to get supplies, and we’ve got a lot of it saved up now.” Resolve was heavy in you, sinking your feet even deeper, willing you to stay in his way. “We owe you a great debt; this is a more honest gratitude than credits.” Something told you that your eyes had found his, through the T of his visor.

“If not for you, then for the little one,” you added, quieter, not that he couldn’t use it himself. After freeing your town more or less by accident, he was covered in scrapes and bruises in between the beskar. This gift was invaluable for bringing him back home in one piece.

Slowly, thoughtfully, he took it, his gloved hands surprisingly gentle. The air was suddenly awkward, and you worried briefly thay you had somehow insulted him.

“Thank you,” he said, and if you didn’t know better, his tone was almost bashful.

“Thank you,” you replied, smiling at him, before you remembered to be demure, and you ran off, heart racing.

His gaze might have followed you, if the hairs on the back of your neck were any indication, but you didn’t look back until you ducked into your building. The feeling returned – of meeting his eyes – and then he was turning away and you were alone.

You had your own home, made of smooth clay and filled with repurposed objects and materials. Chairs made from old racing bike seats and a bed full of scraps of fabric. You sunk into your favorite corner – your workbench and table. Piles of broken droid pieces were in a relatively organized pile nearby, and you grabbed one and began gently disassembling it. Soft clinks and the gentle squeaks of metal were music to your ears, even though you didn’t know anything about the mechanics, you loved the process of finding beautiful things in the chaos of wires and washers.

“Your family, huh?” the voice was low and amused, with a touch of something lighter, almost nervous?

The Mandalorian was at your door, curtain pushed aside to make room for his large frame. The grease stains on your hands became incredibly interesting as you shrugged, confused as to why he was here, in your home? Wasn’t he leaving not so long ago?

“I am my own family,” you tried to laugh, the awkwardness from before returning.

“Why are you… is there… do you need…?” you felt flustered, not wanting to offend him but trying to ask what in the world was happening.

“Would you want to come with me?” his words came out quickly, rushed and little too loud. Instinctively, you flinched, before even fully processing his question.

“What?” you looked more towards him, his movements seemed irritated as he looked away.

“I looked at the medkit and I don’t know half of what’s in it. I need some help anyway, with the kid, and,” he gestured noncommittally to the room and you understood.

“Okay,” you said. He was right, this was barely a home. And after all he’d done for the town, the least you could do was help him out for awhile.

For all he was covered head to toe, he still looked startled. But he nodded, curtly and walked back out the door.

You scrambled to shove your own stock of things into a bag and ran after him, feet thumping in the sand, mind racing.

-

Traveling with the Mandalorian was … not what you expected.

When he has first appeared in your town and you had beheld him, with his armor and weapons and swirling cape, you thought to yourself, this man is like a summer storm. Powerful, destructive, and beautiful from a distance. If you got to close you would be overwhelmed with him, his life, and there would be little room for survivors.

You were in awe of him, but afraid.

Apparently, not so afraid as to follow it, but you waited for it to hit you, tear your apart, and leave you in pieces.

You thought it would come on his next outing to find work, as his contact scoffed at your presence, but it didn’t.

Then maybe, it would come after the second mission, when it had come sooner than expected and you’d been there, improvising against his orders trying to keep you all alive. It didn’t then, either.

Long nights were spent, talking quietly, and you would show him how to use the creams and the sprays to heal himself, and you waited. The longer it took, the more sure you were that it was building, behind the armor, and he would grow sick of you, sick of your questions and touches and presence.

It was almost cruel, that you couldn’t find any evidence of it building, somewhere, anywhere. You had been told your whole life that a man like him would hurt you. You had even seen it, time and time again, and the images haunted you. It was unfair that you got all those wonderful moments with him first. Moments when he would get excited and eager and awkward at your kindness, or when he would open up with halting, thoughtful phrases, or when he would prioritize your safety, even over his own. Because how could you have those moments, and still survive when they were inevitably taken from you?

Maybe the waiting was the storm, because it was consuming you.

You found him in the cockpit, hating that you had a chair of your own to sink into.

“I think I should go home,” you whispered, fixing your gaze on the stars. He turned to look at you; you didn’t have to see it to know. The silence was loud and you felt the first tremble in your hands. Maybe asking would be the final straw?

“I don’t understand,” he said, carefully, and you heard the confusion in his voice and to your surprise, a touch of hurt.

“I…” you hadn’t prepared for this part. The words came more honestly than you intended, “I am afraid.”

Once, Din had seen a spaceship torn apart midflight. It cracked open at the same time as it caved in on itself.

That was how he felt, hearing those quite words, out of the mouth of his companion.

His voice was broken in a way that he could not blame on the helmet.

“Of me, cyar'ika?”

You took so long to answer, hope and fear pooled together blending in his chest. It was hard to think, hard to sit side by side suspended in the sky and to think.

“Of what you must be,” finally you admitted. A little more hope dripped in. Din thought he must be almost nothing. Other than his creed, and his role as the little ones buir, he could – would – be anything he wanted.

“What must I be?” he asked, and you seemed frustrated, like it was unfair that he didn’t already know.

“You are a warrior – strong and powerful and…” you swallowed, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “And those who are like that tire of those who are like me. And when you do, it will hurt.”

His gloved hands slid over the plates on his thighs, almost dancing with thought.

“Have I shown you that I tire of you?” he asked, and you had to close your eyes, searching, almost desperately, for a single time that he had.

Your “No,” was barely audible.

“That’s because I have not,” he answered almost as quietly. “I will not.”

The certainty, the fear, built up for years and years of warnings and reminders, was slipping through your fingers, and his hand was filling them. It sent a shock through you, but you didn’t push him away.

Suddenly you realized that you could’ve, that he would have let you – and another shock came.

Even through the glove, his hand was warm, and for the first time you allowed yourself to acknowledge to yourself that it was gentle.

“Are you tired of me?” he asked and the question sunk into your soul. He was the strongest man you’d ever met, capable of destroying everything in his path. He was holding your hand, asking for permission to keep you by his side.

This “No,” was louder, more resolute.

“Then this is your home,” he said, with even more determination. “And I will protect you.”

For the first time, you felt like you were seeing and hearing him clearly, fully. Not as you had been told to, but as he actually was. Even the unsaid words were clear.

The Mandalorian would not hurt you.

It would take time to unlearn, but you took a deep breath, and held onto his hand, and let a little bit of your fear go. It made room for something else, in your heart, something better.

Din felt it too, and his own resolve strengthened. He could show you – those people existed, but he, with you, would not be one of them. Even more than that, he wanted to be your comfort. It would take time, too, but now, at least he had that.

-

He didnt even need to say anything, only shoot you a look, and you knew. Under the helmet his face was surely as panicked as yours, and fast as a blaster shot you were on a bike, child tucked into your chest, racing away.

There had been local festival and you all had been excited after finishing a job, too intoxicated by the easy victory to remember the price it came with. You shouldn've known better - gotten out while you were ahead, but now that didnt matter because sharp, electric objects were flying past your head and wind was whipping in your hair and you were scared.

The Crest was barely within reach, you knew that, unable to stop desperately checking the fuel on the bike. The attacks were slowing and you tore your gaze up to look for Din, willing him to be close. It was getting cooler, both suns dipping towards the horizon and all you wanted to do was get out of range, get to the Crest, all safe.

You felt a prickle on the back of your neck, and before you registered that it wasn't warm and inviting, you were face to mask with someone as covered as the a man you wanted, but who was far, far worse.

Everything was a blur. There was sharp pain on your back and your thighs tensed, gripping the bike and the child and shooting your blaster for all you were worth. The ship was in sight, and then you were on it, and the door was closing and you hadn't been sure you were breathing but you couldnt start yet because it wasnt over.

Pain was radiating from your back and there was boom and bangs of fists and weapons on the shell of the ship and most importantly, Din was not back yet.

You blindly slapped a healing patch onto yourself before lowering yourself into the darkest corner of the ship, the child still close to your pounding heart. Your tried to focus on the sounds of the machines around you, tried to remind yourself that you had healing tools in case... in case he needed them. The thing about safe spaces is that they never overlapped with the ones that let you see what was going on, which only amplified your terror.

Maker, you didnt know why you were so scared but when you heard familiar footsteps and shining beskar came into view, the relief you felt was overwhelming. You breathed again.

It felt like there should have been a light show or a musical fanfare, how free you suddenly felt, it was a new and bizarre sensation but nothing... happened.

And then you realized.

"You are okay," he breathed, almost disbelieving, as the two of you stood, soaking in each other's miraculously living presence. There was a tightness to his posture, stress visible in his frame.

His breathing was ragged, cracking through the helmet, but he turned and out of habit you both moved away, remembering the danger just outside.

Your mind was racing as your forced yourself to set up everything properly, make sure the child was safely tucked away and the ship was secure and ready to fly. Feeling liftoff sent another wave of relief and shock through you, and your feet carried you up, up and around to the cockpit to find Din. By the time you reached him, the Crest was sailing through the stars, and the air in the cockpit matched that of before. Your hands had found the medkit you'd given him, all those months ago, updated by you regularly, and you held it out to him, almost in a trance.

Din took it before setting it aside, and turning to you. His arms opened, feeling suddenly vulnerable, in an action he'd never really done before.

You took his offer without hesitation, sinking into his arms, ignoring the rough edges of the beskar. It was one thing, to see him be gentle when it was a quiet night, and another entirely when intensity and his own fear and anger had been running high. It gave you the final note of bravery you needed to profess your realization.

"You make me feel safe, Din," you whispered into the cloth around his neck. One of his hands found the patch you'd put on, fingers barely tracing its edges.

"I do?" If possible, his voice was even more ragged than before.

You nodded, knowing he would feel it, and unable to say more.

After long, exposed moments, there was a shift and you both moved to sit in your respective chairs, not fully able to look at each other just yet. You wondered if his face felt as warm as yours did, or if he could feel the ghost of the shape of you, as his lingered on your skin.

The silence was comfortable, but still he asked, "Are you still afraid?" And you pondered the question, reflecting on all the little moments you had waited for the hurt to come, and it hadn't. The moments he protected you from them, as he had today.

"Less and less," you said eventually, relishing the honesty on your tongue.

Din reached over and took your hand again.

<<

Taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost

[magicrowiswritingstuff]

"Sorry" - Din Djarin x gender-neutral!reader

Summary: Every night the pain in your soul becomes silent tears in your eyes as you cry yourself to sleep. 

Warning: heavy angst and sadness, that's it I think...

Category: angst, hurt/comfort

Words: about 2.500

Notes: This is part of @din-damn-djarin​’s song prompt writing challenge which I joined super late but at least I finished this fic hella fast. I was just so motivated. I chose Sorry by Nothing But Thieves. As a little extra challenge for myself I tried to incorporate some of the lyrics directly into the story... maybe you can spot them! Note 2: I will beta-read this tomorrow after I had a few hours of sleep so until then please just ignore any mistakes...

_________________________________    

"Sorry" - Din Djarin x gn!reader

After all these months, after all these small touches you couldn't help but imagine a future with him. You couldn't help but envision how everything would play out when you would confess your feelings to him.

After all these months you had finally realized what that fluttering in your stomach was, whenever Din brushed you lightly. The smallest touch was enough to make your heart throb against your ribs so painfully sweet. Heat rose to your cheeks whenever he lightly taped your arm or placed his hand on your shoulder to get your attention. They were only small touches, innocent and fleeting but they meant the world to you. When he soothingly rubbed your back or squeezed your hand you knew he cared. You knew he felt the same even if neither of you had said it out loud.

After all these months you two had grown more comfortable with the presence of each other. So comfortable, in fact, that somehow you ended up cuddled up on the pilot seat in his lap when you were exhausted after a day filled with running and shooting, more often than not. You had no idea why or how it started but you didn't care. You felt safe whenever he would wrap his arms around you and let you press your face between his helmet and neck. When he let you melt into his comforting warmth and forget the terrors of the day. You knew he cared when he held you tight, close to him and his racing heart that was beating just as fast as your own underneath his beskar and your fingertips.

After all these months you knew you loved him with all your heart. And you couldn't help but envision how it would be if he was yours. You couldn't help fantasize about the perfect future with him and the kid.

After all these months you had thought you knew how he felt for you, too. Maybe love had made you blind. Maybe you had just been naive and dumb. Maybe you had slowly lost grip on reality while being held by him, while being so close to him. Because reality came back crashing down on you when you had told him how you felt… and when he had told you how he didn't. 

"I'm sorry. I don't… I can't return your feelings."

_______________

The sudden distance was heartbreaking. You had gotten so used to his touches, his embrace, his warmth that the sudden loss laid heavily on your shoulders. With every step it pulled you further down, further into the spiral of hurt and pain. You couldn't look up at his visor anymore, your eyes always lowered when you where near him. Because even though he had broken your heart you couldn't bring yourself to leave. Even if every day reminded you of the pain, digging it's spikes into your heart, deeper and deeper with every passing day you spend on the Razor Crest, you couldn't bring yourself to leave him and the kid. You loved them both dearly and even when your feelings were unreturned you had a duty to fulfill. You had joined Din to help him with the kid and not to... fall in love. 

But when he sat like that before you on the pilot seat, his armor stripped off and his arm freed from his flight suit so you could stitch up the wound he couldn't reach on his own, you felt the pain even more prominently than ever before. Because this was the first time you saw him. This was the first time you saw the man underneath the armor, the gentle, honest man you knew… you thought he was. 

You couldn't raise your gaze to meet his blank visor anymore, you couldn't stand being close to him anymore. Because every fleeting touch felt like it burned you. Every touch seemed to laugh at you and your stupidity, laugh at how you could have ever thought you had a chance with him. The future you had envisioned had broken down around you and left you and your heart in tiny pieces. And whenever you tried to pick them up and but them back together, every time you tried to move on they just slipped past your trembling fingers. 

At night you laid wide away, staring at the ceiling from your improvised bed with tear filled eyes. Every night your thoughts kept circling around if it had been your fault somehow. At how you could have been so blind. Had you misread the situation so severely? Could you have been really so blind and dumb? Had all these nights in hyperspace spend tightly cuddled up on the pilot seat truly meant nothing to him? Every night the pain in your soul became silent tears in your eyes as you cried yourself to sleep. 

And now you had to pull all your strength together to push those tears back down, to not break down right in front of him. But when the touch of his uncovered skin slowly warmed up your trembling fingers and when you felt the pulsing of his heart in the vessels of his upper arm echo back in your own, it became impossible. Silently one dropped down onto your shaking hands as the rest began to cloud your vision. You quickly finished up his stitches and helped him back into his flight suit before you hurrydly closed the med kit and pressed it against your chest. You turned around to walk out of the cockpit but you had only took a few steps away when he reached out and curled his still gloveless fingers around your wrist, making your body freeze up. A soft whimper escaped your lips as your breath got stuck in your throat. You felt him tug at your arm ever so slightly, begging you to turn around and face him. But you couldn't. If you would turn around now you knew you couldn't hold back the wave of tears and the storm of emotions anymore. You knew you would break right there in front of him. 

"(Y/N)." 

You bit your tongue, trying to hold back the sob as the tears continued to cloud your vision. You pressed your eyes closed and begged yourself to hold it together, to not show him how much he had hurt you. But when you heard him stand up and softly turn you around to face him you knew you had lost the battle. You opened your eyes and looked up at him as the tears finally spilled over, as a broken sob finally tore through your throat, leaving you even more empty then you felt before when your eyes locked onto the void of his visor. You wanted to scream at him, tell him how awfully he had hurt you but all you could do was shakingly stand before him and press the med kit even closer against you, clutching onto it to seek some form of comfort you knew only he could give you. 

Din had been prepared for your rage, for angry words thrown against him but he hadn't been prepared for the heartbreaking sight as you broke down right in front of him. And all he wanted to do was pull you into his arms, wipe your tears away and whisper into your ear but he knew he had missed his chance when he had told you he didn't feel the same… 

"I'm sorry." 

His voice was soft and filled with regret-no, stop. You took a deep breath and forced yourself to remember why you were standing before him, crying your eyes out right in front of him. He had broke your heart. He didn't feel the same. There was no regret. There couldn't be regret in his voice it must have been something else. But then he repeated it. "I'm sorry" over and over again under his breath, his voice shaking. And you knew it was regret that made it shake with emotion. And you knew he meant it. You knew he was being honest. But all that didn't fix it, all that didn't make it any less painful. "Please, stop" you begged and tugged at his hand that was still curled around your wrist. Your voice sounded foreign, so unlike you, almost strangely heavy as you whispered those words. "There is nothing left to say." 

You freed yourself from his grip and took one step back, giving him one last, sad look before you turned around to walk out of the cockpit. Only for him to stop you once more. With his hands on your shoulders he turned you back around. And before you could realize what he was doing he had already pushed the med kit out of your arms and to the floor as he pulled you against him. His arms wrapped around your shoulders and back, they kept you pressed against his chest. He still hadn't put his armor back on so instead of the cold beskar you were used to you were pressed against the warmth of his skin from underneath the flight suit. The warmth you had missed and craved so much. The warmth that now felt like it burned you and it took everything in you not to hiss in pain. When your mind finally caught back on, on what was happening you immediately went completely rigid in his embrace. And when those words left the savity of his helmet once more you pushed against him, clawed against his chest to try and get away. "No!" you cried out loudly. "You don't get to break my heart and hug me later!" Another wave of tears crashed over you and another storm of emotions laced up your throat but you forced yourself to stay at the surface, to not get pulled down by the waves. "You can't do that!" you sobbed, not able to hold the words back anymore. "You can't make me believe you love me and then- I can't believe I was stupid enough to believe you might have really felt the same. I-" "Stop that, you're not stupid" he whispered. You wanted to say more but the firmness in his voice made you close your mouth as you stopped fighting against him. Giving up you let him hold you pressed against his chest. "You're not stupid." As new tears welled up in your eyes you slowly wrapped your arms around him, too. Ignoring that he was the source of your pain, ignoring that he was the one pushing those spikes into your heart deeper and deeper with every passing day. You ignored all that and instead let yourself melt into the warmth and comfort of his embrace you had craved for so long.

"You aren't stupid, you… I- I lied" he continued. "I do feel the same for you."

Your breath hitched in your throat but you kept your head pressed against his chest, too scared to look up and see that maybe everything was just a dream, that everything was just a figment of your imagination and broken beart. Surely you must have imagined his voice, his words. But then he repeated them. 

"I lied." 

"Why?" you asked before you could bite your tongue. "Why did you lie? Why did you do this to me then? Why?" your tears were audible in the way your voice shook and trembled and in the way you clutched at the fabric of his flight suit, seeking halt, seeking answers. Din sighed deeply, you felt his chest rise and lower slowly as you hugged him tighter. "Din, why?" "I-" he began, his voice trembling just as much. His heart was beating so heavily against his ribs you could feel it hammering against your own chest.

"I don't deserve you." 

You wanted to look up, you wanted to meet his visor again but he placed his chin on top of your head, forcing you to stay pressed against him with your head lowered. It felt like he didn't want you to see him right now, like he was afraid of your eyes. As if he was afraid to see agreement in them. "Din-" you began but he interrupted you by him continuing his explanation. "I'm not the man you deserve. You deserve better than me. Someone who's not as broken, not as defective, not… I'm not as good as you think I am." You wrapped your arms tighter around him as he began to shake and then furrowed your brows, somehow feeling angry that he would think that way about himself. "You arent broken and you aren't defective!" you began again, forcing your voice to sound strong and to blink the tears away. "You are a good man, Din." "I hurt you!" he objected and buried his fingers into the fabric of your shirt, seeking halt and comfort just like you. "All I wanted was to protect you from... me. But all I did was hurting you instead." For a few seconds you didn't say anything, your chaotic thoughts racing in your mind in circles again and again. This wasn't what you had expected when he had grabbed your wrist. And you had no idea what you were supposed to do now. You still felt hurt but the anger had vanished. But without the anger the pain just felt more present. And even though he had explained to you why he had done it... it would still hurt for a long while. The fact that he didn't feel like he deserved you, that he didn't deserve happiness was heartbreaking. 

"You did hurt me" you agreed truthfully as you swallowed down another wave of tears, putting on a strong face instead. "And I don't agree with the reason why but… it's okay." You slowly freed yourself from his embrace and took one step back. His arms were still loosely wrapped around you but his visor was lowered, staring at the floor instead of at you. "No, I'm not… it's not-" "Stop" you interrupted him firmly and then softly placed your hands on each side of his helmet, forcing him to look up and at you. When your eyes finally locked onto the blackness of his visor, on his eyes that were hiding underneath, you took a deep breath. "I decide who I deserve" you declared. "It's my decision who I give my heart to." Din nodded slowly in understanding while you collected all your strength for the next words you wanted to say. "You hurt me deeply." Din noticeably flinched at that but didn't speak up or try to move away from you. "But I'm ready to forgive you" you continued honestly. "I still feel the same, I still-" Your voice failed you, your throat hoarse and tired after all the crying but you forced yourself to carry on. "Are you ready to give us a change?" Din didn't hesitate one second, his ungloved hand shooting up to cup your cheek in a soothing manner. "Yes, I'm ready. I want this-" he faltered a bit and hesitantly wiped away the last traces the tears had left on your skin. "I want this if you want me?" "Maker, yes" you whispered breathlessly. You placed one hand on top of his that was still resting on your face, letting yourself really feel his skin for the first time. You felt the roughness of his hand, the little scars that littered the back of it. But all you could think about was how soft and gentle they were when he let his fingers slowly dance over your skin. How delicately he always touched you. But those small touches suddenly didn't feel enough anymore. Gently you curled your fingers around his and tugged lightly at them. 

"I've been waiting so long... I can't be patient anymore" you whispered and let your eyes flutter close before you placed his hand over them. The clutter of his helmet landing on the floor was left unnoticed when you finally felt his lips on yours.

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Does the ending feel a little rushed? Maybe. Do I care? Nope.

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Taglists:

Permanent Simps: @buckysalefty

Din Djarin Simps: @theflightytemptressadventure / @sarahjkl82-blog / @remmysbounty / @undeniableadrenaline / @kassidydjarin / @freeshavocadoooo / @dindaddy-ficrec / @wonderless-screwup / @helena-way07 / @n0ffitar / @24-blackbirds / @thethunderstormsgirl / @mylifeofcalculatedchaos / @mandos-co / @smoldjarin​

[dailycharacteroption]

Alternate Class Review: Ninja part 4

 Thoughts

 There’s a lot of culture to unpack with the ninja, much more than I could ever do in one to three pages worth of a word document, but I’ll give it a try.

In the real world, ninja may not have been as superhuman as the stories make them out to be, but as I’ve said repeatedly, they were some of the foremost innovators in Japan during their heyday, and while the traditionalist methods of contemporary culture gave them an clear advantage with their ability to think laterally, they never truly stopped innovating, and more importantly, educating their agents.

Indeed, ninja across the various clans and schools generally made sure that their agents were able to know what to do in any given situation, and how to improvise when something new came up. Ninja were taught an array of basic disguises, how to use fire as a distraction effectively, how to deal with dogs and other animals, how to hide in any environment, and more.

Indeed, one of their most iconic skills was using their equipment for multiple different unexpected uses. Their ninjato short swords, with their square guard and long fastening cord, could be used to extend one’s reach while navigating in darkness, or as a retrievable step stool over walls, while their kusari sickles could be used as makeshift grappling hooks if they didn’t have their own with them. And that’s just the weapons, their other tools also had a myriad of uses.

Athleticism and survival techniques were also enough of a part of the ninja’s arsenal that there is a legitimate argument to be made for ninja being based on the ranger class, rather than the rogue as well. After all, a ninja not only had to outrun their enemies, but travel overland for miles through the wilderness. Such long treks require one to be self-sufficient, and ninja packed plenty of rations and medicine, and have the knowledge to forage for more, as well as protect themselves from the elements.

Their ability to innovate also made them quick to adopt gunpowder and firearms, as much as that seems like a contradiction to the stealthy ninja, but distraction and disruption are also key components of the ninja toolkit, let’s not forget, to say nothing of the stopping power and armor penetration that such weapons provide when they were forced to actually confront foes.

 Of course, the shinobi also had their own sort of spirituality and philosophy based on Taoism and Buddhism, which taught about how everything, even human life, was merely one step along the many changing states of life and death. Such a philosophy helped assuage the fear of death which might otherwise paralyze a shinobi, as to them, their lives were just another step in the cycle.

 It’s pretty clear that ninja are a lot more complex and interesting than merely being stealthy agents with seemingly mystical ways, and I hope that this entry, as well as the rest of this week’s special, helps give you all inspiration for your own ninja characters.

 That does it for today, but tune in tomorrow for the final thoughts on this class! Also, special thanks to GaijinGoombah on Youtube for his analysis of how pop culture ninja compare to the real deal!

[borkthemork]

WIP Preview for a Fic Titled: “On the Corner Between E. Harry and Quay”.

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Marcy closed her eyes for a second. The heaviness wore down her face, her nose, the ache between her eyebrows. 

She had no money. No phone. Nothing that could give them an advantage except for their legs, the fact Yunan robbed a mugger blind of ten dollars, and Olivia's ability to improvise some new swatches of clothing — being that she stole them from a clothesline and were bulky enough for all three to look casual. A bit shifty, but forgivable.

They looked semi-decent as a family. Enough of a family for people to pass them, give them some shifty eyes, but go on their way.

But the biggest challenge hadn't been braced yet. The newts didn't say it much, but Marcy hated thinking on the idea that they should starve too. Or get antsy from the topic of food alone — which they didn’t have...at all.

Marcy needed to make a decision. Either she made them hold out for hours on end until they could get to Anne's house, or they conserved more energy. With Los Angeles, the roads could become long and tedious. They'd might as well do what they could to keep their stamina.

So on the corner of W. Anaheim and Palos Verdes, they made a plan.

They stood behind a 7-Eleven, the sign flickering as a car beeped its way by. Lady Olivia had kept her hands around Marcy's for most of their excursion, but now that they had time to rest — with no one around except for the sleeping man in the alleyway corner — they should be able to get what they need. She just needed to look casual, not alarm anyone to her armor or the fact that people could definitely see how her pipe wasn't a crutch at all.

Hmmm. Maybe she could describe it as cosplay. Would that work?

Probably.

Marcy and Yunan made their move. They went down the street. Cars buzzed past them under a green intersection light, some flying by with US flags, others a myriad of bumper stickers from Ohio to Oklahoma. And when she stopped at their destination, hands on her hips, Yunan's question stood out to her the most.

"So these...7-Elevens, shall curb the hunger?" Yunan asked her. "They look rather sparse for a depository."

"I can guarantee there's a lot more than that," she said, motioning a hand to the blue-lit windows. "They've got snacks, drinks, and stuff under one dollar or less. With ten bucks, we should be able to buy enough to cover the next few blocks." She hesitated. "Until I pass out, but that's not gonna happen."

At least, she hoped.

"Just keep your mask on and don't make too much eye contact. Find whatever you need, think of sustenance. Long-term."

And the general made a little scoff, enough for Marcy to grow relieved when the sliding doors parted and welcomed them — the welcome noise a familiar tune, a familiar memory.

A memory where Anne and Sasha heard the same noise, laughed at how noisy it was, and grabbed all the hotdogs and Krispy rolls they could find. Until they gained a bag fit for kings. For massive sleepovers that went up till dawn.

Almost as if nothing had changed. 

Almost.

When Yunan parted from her, Marcy turned her attention toward the high shelves.

Her hands went through numerous arrays of candy bars. She ogled the calories on snackers, on moon bars and cracker packs, and for a moment her worries over being observed by the cash register alleviated somewhat.

Especially since the general was too intrigued toward a corner section of the store, where she mumbled names under her breath.

Hot dogs dinged from the microwaves. Slush-ees stirred in their mesmerizing and high-concentrated syrup mixes. The newspaper stands sit in their bins. One was labelled the Wilmington Gazette, and announced on the paper’s corner tonight's date:

December 10, 2020. Seven months.

Seven months of her lying, being useless, being inconsiderate and selfish.

Gosh. She really did mess this up for everyone.

Marcy sighed. She resisted wrinkling the newspapers. Instead she placed the bundle gently back before the worker could note her behavior from behind her counter. Better than having the retail worker pay them for damage. She could barely compensate.

But the confirmation came just like she expected.

Marcy Wu wasn't in Inglewood, Westmont, or anywhere near Burbank. She had dropped near Long Beach, somewhere farther South where the coast touched the docks, and now she needed to go up toward the skyscrapers if she wanted to keep Yunan and Olivia safe.

Not a bad task but…

Marcy had to be honest, she was at her limit at this point.

She’d been walking for hours with numb legs, a growing headache, and no driver’s license in sight. There were too many factors to consider. Too many consequences to count.

There came the idea of caught by police. Being caught by government scientists, confronted by her parents, over old mistakes that she oh so didn’t want to rip back open again. There came the conquering of numerous realms. There came the burning question of what secured deeply inside her mind and body. A lot that happened all at once.

But out of everything Marcy did, she couldn’t help but feel stubborn. She’d worked in stressful situations before. She fought a cult, took out an entire pirate mutiny, and practically rehauled systems so ancient and traditional that she herself was surprised when she actually fixed it all up ship-shape.

Right now, Yunan and Olivia counted on her to be safe. They had nowhere else to go, no human guide to show them what was safe and what wasn’t.

And that meant Marcy needed to improvise. Improvise until Anne took them in, allowed the newts to stay in her home, and maybe, just maybe, she’d be able to handle the mass that hid inside of her.

For better or worse, she needed to think of the bigger picture. A bigger picture where the balance between two realms continued to wobble on an uncertain axis.

And Marcy had to do something to fix it.

[ask-de-writer]

INSURANCE! : A Grumpy Goat *tail*(Part 9 of 18): MLP Fan Fiction

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INSURANCE!

A Grumpy Goat *tail*

Part 9 of 18

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

28307 words

New to the story?  begin reading from the start, HERE

© 2021 by Glen Ten-Eyck

All rights reserved. This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions, provided that such things are done without charge. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

All sorts of Fan activity, stories, art, music, cosplay or any other activity is actively encouraged!

///////////////////////

We went our way as soon as I changed back to my usual handsome goat self. The armored wagon was waiting at the railroad station. The station itself showed signs of the recent riot. There were broken windows and dents in the woodwork where stones had been thrown. A torch had been tossed onto the roof but had rolled off and guttered out on the stones of the pave.

We went around to the station platform. There had been some rioting here too. We were none too early. We could hear the engine cylinders puff-hissing as the engine was braking from her top speed. As she pulled up to the platform, her big double cylinders releasing a near continuous blast of steam as she braked, her slowing drive wheels making a metallic scream against the iron rails, the engineer brought the machine to a stop exactly at the platform. Medics in Ponyville Principality Marines battle dress came from the station and waited by the armored freight car.

When a sentry on top of the car cleared it, the sliding door of the armored car opened with a bit of a squeal of metal.

The medics went in and shortly returned carrying two on stretchers. In response to Romaine's penetrating questions, they replied, “No, their injuries do not appear to be serious. This is just a precaution until we can get them properly checked out. They were injured during the attempt at an ambush.”

After the casualties were taken care of, the car clerk emerged with my shipment acknowledgment. It stated the amount loaded aboard the train, that this was a transfer, and shipment would only be complete after a matching count done at Ponyville Trust and Loan. Being careful that I was signing nothing else, I put my signature to the document.

The unloading was well underway when a small crowd began to gather. A half dozen armed and armored Twilight's Royal Guard stepped out of the Station. Crossbows were readied while the crowd watched. Several of them quietly put aside cudgels and other such improvised weapons.

When the loading of the armored wagon was complete, the Guard followed it to Ponyville Trust and Loan. We all arrived just in time to see Windy emerge, a smile on her face, and trot off in the direction of the Assembly of the Twins.

Mister Greenbriar came out to watch the unloading with me. He gave a sideways smile as he whispered, “We followed your instructions, Mister Wholeheart. The paperwork for acquisition of Windy's land will be done in only two more days. We have already contacted Houser about rebuilding her place of business.”

I replied, “Good. I will be so glad when the last of this windfall is safe in your vault. You already have my permission to use up to 60% of the total for business and personal loans. I do know that you will use it wisely.”

With a sideways grin, I added, “Oddly enough, you already have in your vaults more gold than those crooks in Equestrian National have in theirs! They got caught being part of defrauding policy holders at Canterlot Casualty and Life. Now they get to pay on the policies that they tried to withhold or reduce payment on. Mine isn't the only big one, either. Just the biggest and first to be paid.”

Mister Greenbriar gave a considering glance at the bulk of the Equestrian National Building, several blocks over and a block or two up. “From what I have been hearing, there is a good chance that they my be forced into bankruptcy. Do you know anything about that?”

“Not really. I know that Celestia is auditing them and has found a direct connection between CC&L's bad policy payouts and EQNB. There is something about a land grab in Bleatin' Hallow that I know that they were involved in and I heard Celestia say that she had uncovered a literally treasonous plot to defraud the Kingdom by the sale of substandard supplies to the Baltimare Naval Yard.

“About bankruptcy, I don't know. A major shake up for sure, perhaps even a full restructure of the bank. I personally think that last is the most likely. The EQNB is too valuable to the kingdom as whole for many large and widespread operations to allow it to be entirely destroyed, for instance, the Royal payrolls and benefices for the Royal Roads, the Equestrian Defense Bureau, and civil retirement benefices paid all over Equestria.

“Now CC&L is a whole different kettle of spoiled fish. If they just set up a trust to honor all of the current policies, they could wipe that nest of vermin off the face of Equestria!”

My money seen to, I trotted on up to Caramel Treat's for the snack that I did not get earlier! I was surprised to be greeted warmly by a pony that was not Peanut Brittle but one whom I recognized.

Windy bobbed her head politely to me and asked politely, “Good day, sir! Welcome to Caramel Treat's Sweets! What can we get you?” I could see Peanut watching, with a smile on her face.

I nodded politely back to her and pointed, “I am a regular here. If it has not already been taken, I usually sit there.” As she seated me, I added, “I would like to start with a big Trottingham Clotted Cream milkshake. For my meal, the clover top burger with the house special big onion rings and sweet/sour dipping sauce.” I paused, pretending to read her name tag and added, “Thank you, Windy.”

I watched Peanut showing Windy the ropes about tray setup. Shortly, Windy returned with my big milkshake. As she set out my shake, she informed me, “Your burger and onion rings are cooking now and will be ready soon.”

I nodded, “Thank you, Windy. You are doing a first class job.”

Shortly Romaine wandered up. She smiled and took a seat at my table. She was bubbling over! “Grumpy! I got the best pony-interest story out of the riot at the station! It still needs some work but it is a really good one.”

Windy interrupted to give Romaine a menu and take her drink order. She too read the name tag and replied, “Thank you, Windy. I will have the pineapple and pomegranate cocktail and asparagus salad and for an entree I will have the clover top steak with snowstar sauce and vegetable medley in butter sauce.”

Turning back to me, she went on, “Somepony in the mob threw a torch into a recently opened ice cream parlor and burned it to the ground. According to witnesses, a small business suited pony met her there in her burned out business. They talked briefly and she set out for downtown.

“I checked with Mol at the Hall of Records and found out that the business was called Windy's Ice Cream and that the land was in the middle of a title change from Snobbin Realty to Ponyville Trust and Loan. I cross checked with business insurance and found that CC&L had insured it. The claim was already processed and there was a notice of a double indemnity payment being processed. It was approved over Princess Luna's seal!

“Since the land was going to PT&L, I dropped by there and talked to Mister Greenbriar. The land is being given to the mare and the architect Houser has been engaged to rebuild the place for her.

“That is all being done as a free gift to the mare Windy . . .” 

She paused and looked at our waitress again!

Windy was bringing out our orders on a big serving tray.

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS ~ NEXT==>

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[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 23

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2000

We were ten years old, Derek and I. Playing a game of hide and seek with his sister Laura. It felt like it was more a game of “let the kids run around and not bother me”. We were deep in the woods outside of their home, laughing and squealing delight as we ran and ran. That is until lightning flashed through the sky and thunder boomed immediately after. Spooked, we ran further from the thunder and lightning, finding a small improvised shelter that we had made a few years before when we would play cops and robbers. Derek’s uncle Peter had helped us build it, occasionally playing the sheriff when he deemed us “less annoying than usual”. 

Once inside the little hut, we sat and decided to wait out the storm or at least until someone came to get us. It was mostly dry with only or two leaks in the roof. We waited a while in silence, only the rain and wind howling filled the air. It was almost peaceful. I had been sitting there, literally twiddling my thumbs when I noticed the anxious movements Derek was making. He was tapping his foot against the soft earth and he was repeatedly cracking his knuckles. 

“What is it?” I asked. He seemed to snap out of his trance and looked at him, then looking away with a slight blush on his cheeks. 

“I was just thinking about what my mom said last year... About us being arranged in a marriage.” 

“What about it?” I turned my body so that I could face him. 

Derek rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, “I dunno... I guess that I wouldn’t want to be forced into a marriage with you. It doesn’t seem fair.” 

“You’re right.” I glanced out towards the woods, smiling fondly, “I want to fall in love. I want someone like Dimitri in Anastasia.” I sighed dreamily. 

“Wasn’t he a con-artist?” Derek raised an eyebrow. I shoved him playfully. 

“No...Well, yes. But he doesn’t take the money the Duchess offered him as a reward because he wants Anastasia to be happy.” 

“He’s a cartoon.” 

“And you’re a dork.” I shook my head, “What about you? Who would you wanna marry someday?” 

Derek thought for a moment, “I guess... I would want someone like Anastasia. She’s super badass and defeats the villain all by herself. She also went through a lot and did a lot even when she didn’t remember who she was, she fought for her future.” 

As sweet as that was...

“She’s a cartoon.” I mocked his voice. He grinned and shoved me, starting a wrestling match that ended with Talia and Peter finding us. They brought us home and made us hot chocolate. 

-

After landing, Michael and I had taken a ferry to the Shetland islands to Sumburgh, the village on the island where the Lunar Circle was settled. We actually were brought to a castle, which was already insane enough. The next insane thing was a statue just inside the massive doors into the main room of the castle. It was a humanoid with the head of a wolf, wearing a kilt and armor. The creature also carried a sword. 

“What is that?” I whispered to Michael. 

“The Wulver. A werewolf that had come to peace with his wolf and human sides. He was friendly to locals and they seemed fine with him. That’s when hunters came and tried to kill him. He was the reason for founding the Lunar Circle - coexistence. 

“Can I do that?” I whispered under my breath. 

“Unfortunately, no.” Our attention was brought to a man with a thick Scottish accent walking into the room, “Our world has lost touch with the old magic. But maybe someday we can bring it back.” He was average height, with salt and pepper hair that was on the longer side and a bit shaggy. His eyes were a kind blue color. He held out his hand to me. 

“Praetor Lachlan McLeod.” The stranger introduced himself, “It’s so good to finally meet you, (Y/N).” So this was the man who wrote the letter, it was nice to have a face to a name. I shook his hand and smiled politely. 

“It’s nice to meet you too, Praetor.” From my googling, Praetor was a Roman term for an official, which was an interesting concept since Rome had completely invaded all of England, Ireland, and Scotland and almost wiped out their culture. But whatever. 

“Please, call me Lachlan.” 

I nodded, “Okay, Lachlan.” He held both of my hands in his smiling sympathetically. 

“I want to extend my condolences, again, for your loss. Your mother and father did so much for the Lunar Circle.” 

Slowly, I slipped my hands from his, “Thank you... I just have a lot of questions about them.” 

“All in due time, my dear. You’ve had a long flight and I’m sure that you’re exhausted.” 

Michael sighed, “Oh, we sure are-”

 “I’m not tired. I want answers.” I said sternly. Michael looked incredibly nervous which made me wonder how high up this Lachlan guy was, “I appreciate your concern, sir, but I am coming from a place where I am just now remembering my parents were a part of a secret werewolf society that gave them the tools to take all of my memories away and said society wouldn’t allow me to be accompanied by my partner. It took a lot for him to let me come by myself, especially since he had never trusted the Lunar Circle in the first place.” 

“Ah, yes, Derek Hale.” He said, almost amused, “I remember his mother’s rejection letter. It was somehow very personal. I think she referred to me as ‘a spineless coward who would rather fraternize with the enemy than fight them.” 

I clicked my tongue, “Sounds like Talia.” Michael nudged my side, signally for me to chill. 

“And another thing-”

“Oh no.” Michael hid his face in his hands.

“This guy.” I pointed to Michael, “He killed my parents, isn’t there some kind of punishment for that?”

Michael ripped his hands from his face, “Hey, that wasn’t my fault.”

“Mr. Keaton’s unfortunate affliction caused by Peter Hale has been reviewed.” Lachlan put his arms behind his back, “I assure you. It was all the Hale’s doing.”

I jerked forward, Michael had to grab my arms to hold me back, “Derek is not his uncle.” My eyes flashing red. 

Lachlan raised his eyebrows and smiled, leaning down and flashing his alpha red eyes at me in return, “I’m sure he’s not.” The red left his eyes and he stood up straight, “Take her to the infirmary and then straight to bed.” He said to Michael, his eyes never leaving mine. I kept my eyes on him, even as he started to walk away, this kilt swaying with each step.

“The infirmary? Why?” Michael asked. 

“I believe Miss (Y/L/N) is carrying something.” He grinned, “Something that may calm her temper.” 

-

After a blood test in the infirmary, we were escorted to two rooms in the castle. Of course, this left me alone with my thoughts that I really didn’t want to think about. Knowing that Derek and everyone else was back home fighting against the alpha pack while I was in this ancient castle where I haven’t gotten the answers I wanted. Why was I even here? To take up my parents’ mantle? Whatever it was, I didn’t want it. I just wanted to go back home and help. I looked out the window of the castle, seeing the moon high in the sky. 

I mean, what could they tell that I didn’t already know? My parents took my memories to keep me safe and look where it got them? Burned to ashes. And what else? I was only stalked by a psychopath and had to watch my friend struggle to not hurt anyone. I mean, hell, I was still struggling with the change. Uncle Noah was still processing what I was. Yes, he’s supportive but to what end? And Stiles? I wasn’t there to protect him when he was kidnapped and beaten by the Argents and now I was millions of miles away and if he was in trouble there was nothing that I could do. And if anything happened to Derek and I wasn’t there to save him? What was the point of even being alive? I would be without them, helpless and guilty, all because of some stupid secret society. 

My chest got tighter and tighter as my emotions ran high. My thoughts and feelings were moving so quickly that it felt like I didn’t have control of my own mind. My hands clenched tight, I could feel all of my features shift. Coarse hair growing down the sides of my face, the bridge of my nose tightening. I screamed loudly, the high pitch lowering into a loud roar. 

“This is your fault!” She shouted, standing up, “Take me home!” She lunged forward. Michael lunged forward, using the shield to knock her back across the room and into the window. Surprisingly, it didn’t break. She fell to the ground, looking up quickly. 

MICHAEL

From the loud roar that just came from the next to his, Michael had a feeling that the Sheriff had been right. She was a time bomb and she just exploded. Michael quickly grabbed a shield from one of the suits of armor that for some reason always decorated castles and made his way into (Y/N)’s room. (Y/N) was on the bed, tearing at pillows. There were feathers and fluff flying all over the room. She was in full shift, her eyes fiery red, her canines sharp. Her eyes took him in, snarling loudly. She jumped off the bed, landing in front of him on all fours. Michael jumped back, shield held tight in his hand. 

“Come on, (Y/N)!” He tried to put on a brave face, “You just need to calm down and get some rest.” 

“SCREW YOU!” She shouted, lunging again. This time, Michael moved on the way, letting her slam into the door, which also didn’t break. 

“That’s a good door.” He said to himself. Michael looked from the door and back to the angry werewolf. She was seething with rage and one step closer to killing him. 

“Think about this.  You don’t want to kill me!” 

“Yes, I do! I hate you!”

“Hate is such a strong word...” He said nervously. (Y/N) lunged again and was met by a door to the face. Lachlan had opened the door and they both looked down at (Y/N) on the floor. She was on her behind, rubbing her forehead. Lachlan sighed, reaching down to help (Y/N) up. 

“I seem to have underestimated your anger. Please, walk with me.” 

(Y/N)

Lachlan led me out of the castle and down to the grounds. In the back of the stone walls, there was a large garden. The Praetor hadn’t said anything since we had been out here, but I think that’s what he wanted. The moon and the atmosphere around us was calming, must be the magic here. 

“I apologize for dismissing your concerns earlier.” Lachlan said finally, leading us to the cliff side where we could see the waves crashing against the rocks, “You have been through a lot lately. More than any new werewolf is expected to handle as well as you have.” When I looked at him, I could tell he was being genuine. 

“I just...” I sighed, leaning against a nearby oak, “I didn’t want to come here. I didn’t want to leave my partner behind. And... I didn’t want to meet the people who told my parents to take my life from me.” 

Lachlan looked up at the moon, the wind flowing through his hair, “Your concerns are near and dear to my heart. My own parents used the Wolf Eclipse spell on me after I mated with a she-wolf from a rival clan. The look in her eyes when I told her I didn’t know who she was... I see it every time I close my eyes. And then I lost her.” His voice shook a bit, “I never forgave them after that.” He looked back at me, “When your parents told us that they had done the spell after the Hale fire, we told them it was a bad idea. You needed to be stronger than ever, maybe even leave Beacon Hills, but they became too attached to the community, to the sheriff and his son.” They stayed for them... I have no idea what my life would have been like without Stiles in it. It was so different. That was a life I didn’t want to think about because it was a life without my best friend and his insane antics. It was a life without Uncle Noah who loved me no matter what. It would be a life without Derek, or at least a life where I wouldn’t be there to meet him again. 

“I remember now that my father thought we were safe.” I wrapped my arms around myself, “Chris Argent is loyal to his word and the code his family is supposed to follow. Unfortunately, he is the only one who follows that code. Even his own daughter was corrupted by his father and his sister and she was dating a werewolf.” 

“Unfortunately, not every hunter can be Chris Argent. From our understanding, he is the only one fighting with his head while the others see us as inhuman.” He chuckled, “You might even say that we are more human than they are.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek. 

“Lachlan?” 

“Hmm?” 

“What am I doing here? Why bring me all this way?” 

Lachlan looked back up at the moon and smiled, “Well, it was originally to restore your memories. Thankfully, that resolved itself. Now, since you are the only member left of your clan - an alpha was two sparks - we were hoping that you could spend some time with us to relearn the basics. And I also want you to relax, experience your culture, your legacy.” 

“That sounds great and all. But I don’t have time to do that. I need to get back to Derek.” 

“(Y/N), you know that it is too dangerous for the both of you to be there. I don’t want you to experience what it’s like to lose a mate. It’s... It’s soul crushing. Losing who you love most - that is the worst pain anyone can feel.” Lachlan turned to go back to the castle, “Think about it. You aren’t a prisoner here. You may leave whenever you like. But I think you could do great things with just a little help.” With that, his footsteps faded into the darkness; leaving me with only my thoughts, the moonlight, and the ocean below. I had to make a decision, one that would ultimately decide my future as an alpha. I just wish someone I knew was here to help me make this decision. If only Uncle Noah were here. He was so level headed and wanted the best for me, but the werewolf drama was probably too much for him already. And Derek would want me to hone in on my skills, even if that meant going into battles alone and possibly losing them. 

I just wish it wasn’t this hard. 

-

After pressing Derek’s contact, I pressed the phone to my ear and listened to it ring. I had no idea what time it was back home, I just needed to at least pretend I was talking to him. 

“Hey Der.” I smiled, “I know it’s late or early. Honestly, I’m not sure. But I wanted to call you and tell you how today went. The flight was long, the food was okay. Uh they made me get a blood test for whatever reason. Oh, and there’s this thing called the Wulver and he was a werewolf that came to peace with his human and animal side. Lachlan’s really nice and doesn’t want to take me from you so the coast is clear on that one. And uh I remembered something today. When we were kids, we got lost in the woods in a storm and we talked about crushes. Funny how you had a crush on a girl who lost her memories.” I laughed, “Anyway... I miss you. And I love you. And I’ll be back as soon-”

I was cut off by a beep and a message telling me that the allotted time of this  message was over. Sighing, I set my phone down and flopped back on the extravagant bed that seemed to form to my body in just the right way. All the fluff and feathers had been cleaned by the time I came back so I should probably thank whoever the cleaning staff were. All I can do is sleep and hope that tomorrow will give me better answers. 

-------------------

Read part 24 here!

I watched Inside today so I am no feeling good. 

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[harrytpotter]

RIGHT PLACE, WRONG TIME — Part IV

Plot: Y/N finds herself trapped in a time in which she doesn’t belong only to learn that maybe that was her place all along.

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Slightly sexual scene with mild cursing.

A/N: Gif isn’t mine (took it from google, so please, if it belongs to you let me know so I can credit) and since my mother language isn’t English, I apologize for any mistakes in advance! :)

As the weeks went by and you still haven’t heard back from Dumbledore, you did your best to avoid James. You hardly even saw him and when you did, you barely spoke two words with him. You knew he had asked Lily why you were shutting him down because she told you and did ask that herself. You couldn’t exactly explain the reason why it was better for everyone and why it was the right thing to do, so you started shutting her and all of your friends down as well. Not as hard and as completely as you did with James, though. You were growing more miserable and lonely every day, wishing you could just go back to the future time where life was way more gentle and kind at you. It was the fourth night in a row that you had purposely skipped dinner to avoid seeing James. You were at Hagrid’s cabin, paying a visit to your dear friend and trying to cheer yourself up a bit.

“Yeh sure yeh don’ wanna eat anythin’, uh Y/N?!” Hagrid offers you a plate full of homemade cookies.

“I’m still stuffed from lunch, but thanks Hagrid!” You politely decline his offer, a warm smile on your face. Hagrid excelled in many things, but cooking wasn’t one of them.

“Alright, then! So yeh gonna tell me why yeh look so bummed?” He shoots a concerned glare at you.

“Just stressed out with school stuff, no biggie,” you smile reassuringly at him.

“James was just here the other day an’ he didn’ look quite alright ‘imself as well,” he shrugs.

“School is particularly hard this year I suppose,” you frown, getting up. “I should probably go, it’s getting quite late. See you, Hagrid!” You hug him goodbye.

Despite clearly having more to say about the previous subject, he hugs you back, leaving you breathless for a while given the strength he put into it. “Take care, Y/N!”

On your way back to the castle, you decide to make a little detour to the kitchen so you could help yourself of some leftovers from dinner.

“You’re one hard woman to track, love,” James’ voice startled you in the middle of a pitch-dark hallway.

“Merlin’s beard, James! Do you always have to sneak up on me like that?!” You whisper, taking your hand to your pounding heart.

The moonlight suddenly flooded through the windows, as the moon came out from behind a particularly massive cloud, and you saw a piece of paper clutched on James’ hand.

“I thought you had swore you’d never use that to keep tabs on me,” you point at the marauder’s map with your head.

James sighs heavily. “I know, but that was before you shut me down completely out of your life for no good reason. You’ve been even distancing yourself from Lily, Marlene, Sirius, Remus, everyone, Y/N! I’m worried about you. We all are. What’s going on with you, babe?” He cupped your face with his free hand and stared worryingly into your eyes, frowning. You could tell his mind was racing, trying to figure out what could possibly had happened to you.

You look away from his gaze and close your eyes, trying to come up with an excuse. Despite the little moment you two had shared in the astronomy tower, none of you had exactly being vocal about your feelings.

“You know what? We should make a trip to the kitchen and steal some chocolate pudding, what do you think? I bet some sugar in your system will make everything better!” He smiled brightly at you, starting a warm wave inside your chest.

“I believe it’s worth a try,” you smile sweetly back at him, unable to turn his puppy eyes down and doing your best to ignore the annoying butterflies in your stomach. You see, that’s the problem of finally admitting your feelings to yourself after keeping them hidden for so long: despite your best efforts to brush them off and hide them again, your body keeps giving you constant and awfully vivid reminders that they’re there.

***

The house-elves were happy to give you some snacks and sweets as the two of you entered the kitchen. You and James sat next to each other on the big island that laid in the middle of the room, eating, joking and throwing food at each other. Just like old times. The two of you didn’t leave the kitchen until you were both feeling stuffed.

Heading back to the Gryffindor tower, you were giggling at something James had said when you both heard footsteps nearby. Realizing he had left his invisibility cloak back in his dorm, James quickly pulled you to a very dark and hidden spot in the nearest corner of the hallway, behind an armor and beside a large shelf. Amidst the rush of having to improvise, he ended up with his both hands on your waist and his face almost glued to yours, since the space was limited and neither of you could move. His breath was uneven, just like yours, as he stared at your lips with a longing look on his eyes. Without thinking, he crashed his lips into yours, beginning a fueled, passionate kiss. You were immediately sent at a state of pure euphoria, all of your senses intensely and solely focused on this moment. Every inch of your body felt ecstatic, as if it had been waiting for this to happen for your entire life. As the boy deepened the kiss with a burning roughness you were already out of your mind, intoxicated by the feeling of having him touching you, kissing you. James slid one of his hands to your thigh and squeezed it slightly whilst taking his lips to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses, light bites and soft hickeys.

“Fuck, Jamie...” you suck the air between your teeth trying to suppress a moan, for James’ amusement. You could feel the satisfied grin he gave whilst his lips still sucked the skin of your neck, this time a little harder than before.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks you mischievously, even though he already knew your answer.

“Don’t you dare to!” You shot desperately at him and pulled him closer, tangling your hand in his hair and pulling it roughly. You heard him gasp in surprise and pleasure and you bit your lower lip satisfied.

You honestly didn’t know what would’ve happened if it wasn’t for Filch’s interruption. “I know there are students out of bed! I heard giggles! And I bet it’s Potter, Black and Lupin!” He exclaims, breaking you and James out of your desire-driven trance. You quickly took James’ hands from your body and recomposed yourself.

“Argus, please, we’ve been looking around this hallway for the past fifteen minutes and didn’t find anyone! Just go to bed for Merlin’s sake!” You heard the annoyed voice of a sleepy Minerva McGonagall.

You and James stayed behind the armor for a little while after the two of you had heard their voices fading away, just in case.

“So, I think we need to talk about what just happened,” he says with a wide smirk, scratching his head.

“Nothing happened,” you’re quickly to point out. The guilty was eating you alive as you thought about Harry and Lily.

“Oh, but it would’ve, love. It really would,” he shoots you a cocky grin.

“Look, Jamie...” you start, lowering your head as you were unable to look him in the eyes. “That can never happen again, okay? Never.”

“Come on, love...” he says, getting closer to you and holding your chin gently between two fingers, lifting it so you could look at him. “You can’t deny that something is going on between you and I. And it has been for quite some time now,” he says tenderly, leaning in slowly.

You frown sadly and turn your head away, holding back the tears of hopelessness that were starting to form in your eyes. “What’s wrong, love? Don’t be afraid,” he cups your face with both of his hands, leading your gaze back at him.

Seeing the hopeful look he had in his eyes nearly broke you for good. “I can’t do this, Jamie...” you whisper weakly, not even remotely resembling the strong and fiery girl you’re known to be.

“Why not? Look, if that’s because of Lily, you have nothing to worry about. I never really liked her and I know you know that. In the beginning I was motivated by the challenge and a bet Sirius and I had made, of course, but then... about two years ago I realized who my heart had really chosen. I did nothing because I was too much of a coward, I’m afraid,” he states.

The tears were now rolling furiously down your face, despite your best efforts to control them. “James, please stop talking.”

“I need you to hear me, love. Just listen to me, would ya? Please,” he smiles nervously at you.

“You’re not making any sense, for Merlin’s sake! You belong with Lily, that’s how it’s supposed to be! You’ll fall in love, start dating, get married and have a kid!” You frown hopelessly.

“Y/N, did you hear what I just say? I can’t be with someone I don’t love! And I know you’re not saying that for Lily’s sake because she doesn’t fancy me either!”

“You wouldn’t understand, but believe me when I tell you this, Lily is your soulmate! Besides, I’m seeing someone,” you didn’t wanna lie to him nor hurt him like that, but you had to take his mind off of this somehow.

His face dropped as he let go of you. “Oh... That makes sense. You don’t want anything to do with me because you’re already in love with somebody else. I don’t blame you, I knew you wouldn’t wait around forever for me to man up,” James shrugged. “But you could’ve just saved your best mate here the embarrassment by mentioning it earlier, couldn’t you love?” He grins sadly, putting his hands at his pockets, and turned around, leaving you alone with an aching heart in the middle of the dark.

***

It had been a week since your little episode with James and now he was the one avoiding you. You knew you should clear the air with him, but you thought you could use this time to get your head straight and focus on what you really needed: finding a way out of this pace of time. Despite the fact that you were making things right with Lily and Marlene, your friendship with the marauders was going downhill. Sirius and Remus barely speak to you anymore since they were always by James’ side and you did break their friend’s heart. You sigh whilst looking yourself in the mirror after getting ready for your classes: you were the perfect depiction of misery. Heading down the stairs to begin your day, your feet suddenly stop when you hear a familiar voice coming from the common room. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop but you couldn’t face them right now.

“Come on, Prongs. Lighten up a bit, would you?” Sirius’ voice sounded concerned.

“I am very good Pads, can’t you see?” James answers him bitterly.

“I think you should talk to Y/N again, tell her how you really feel. You should try to work this out with her, mate,” Remus advises.

“I’ve already tried that, Moony! She didn’t care!”

“From what you’ve told us, you just reassured her that you don’t have any feelings for Lily. Have you tried telling her exactly how you feel about her?” Remus asks wisely.

“What good could it possibly make? She‘s already in love with someone that’s not me,” James sighs.

“I find it hard to believe,” Sirius states. “It’s just so obvious that she has feelings for you, I don’t know how your blind, stubborn self can’t see it! Plus, we’re her best friends and she never even once mentioned some guy she fancied to us.”

“That’s not the kind of thing a girl discusses with her male friends, Padfoot,” Remus says as if it was obvious. You imagined him rolling his eyes at your friend at the end of that sentence.

“No, but she would’ve mentioned it to Lily and Marlene...” James says with a realization tone.

“What are you waiting for? Go ask them then and find out who’s your competition!” Sirius exclaims vigorously. “That, of course, assuming that he’s real and Y/N isn’t making it up just so she can get herself rid of you.”

“I thought you said she had obvious feelings for me a while ago,” James says nervously.

“Don’t mind him, Prongs. He’s messing with you. Just go find Lily,” Remus says and you can hear the three of them exiting the room through the portrait hole.

“Bloody hell!” You curse at yourself, knowing very well that Lily would cover for you, much for her dismay, but you’d need to come up with a plan soon because James wouldn’t be fooled by that forever.

You wandered through the castle’s hallways with your mind racing, deciding to skip breakfast so you could think about your current situation. That seemed to be all you were doing lately. In fact, all you really wanted to do was scream in frustration and punch someone in the face. It was beyond unfair having to choose between a kind of an all-consuming feeling that happened once in a lifetime and the sake of your friends and their future as individuals and as a group. Being here was becoming heavier and heavier each day that went by. How much longer will you be able to resist James and deny your feelings? How much longer will you have to torture yourself? What if Dumbledore couldn’t fix whatever caused the time-turner to malfunction? What if you were bound to be trapped here for good? All of a sudden you felt sick to your stomach as a last and despairing thought crossed your mind: what if you had to witness James and Lily fall in love with each other? You felt like throwing up, so lost in your own distresses that you only noticed you had stumbled upon someone when you were both on the floor.

“Merlin’s beard, I’m so sorry!” You say whilst getting up.

“I think you forgot your head back in the tower, L/N,” Amos Diggory joked, sitting.

“I suppose I did,” you smile sheepishly at him, offering your hand to help him stand on his feet. “Again, I’m really sorry. You okay?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” he winks casually at you. “You don’t seem quite alright yourself on the other hand,” he adds, noticing the worried frown on your face.

“Oh, about that, I...” you start, stopping suddenly when you noticed James standing at the opposite end of the aisle, frowning at the sight of you and Diggory alone in an empty corridor, your hands still in the Hufflepuff’s. “Please just go with it, I’ll explain everything in a minute,” you whisper to Amos, as you grin widely whilst staring into his eyes and resting your wrists on the back of his neck, pretending you hadn’t seen the marauders glancing at your direction.

“Alright, I think I can carry on with whatever this is, but I have to say I’m genuinely intrigued,” he lifts a brow at you, grinning and leading his hands to your waist.

Before you could say anything else, James passes by the two of you like a hurricane, Sirius and Remus on his trail. You swore you could catch a disappointed look from Remus as they followed their friend.

“Potter seems to be in a bad mood today, doesn’t he?” Amos drags your attention back to him and you’re met by a suspicious look on his face. “I’m willing to bet you know why.”

“I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to suck you into my personal drama, I just... I don’t even know what to say,” you lean against the wall, sighing heavily.

“Try me, L/N. I’m a pretty good listener if you ask me,” he shrugs, leaning next to you. “Besides, you can trust me not to spill your secrets around,” he winks at you.

“I know you’re trustworthy, Diggory,” you smile at the thought of how much he reminded you of your late friend Cedric Diggory, who also happened to be his son. “You’re a Hufflepuff.”

He laughs genuinely at your joke. “Bring it on then, L/N.”

“Alright,” you sigh. “So, I don’t know if you can tell, but I kind of have feelings for James...”

“Yeah, I might have noticed that. And so did the entire school,” he bumps his shoulder into yours. “But go on.”

“I thought you had said you were a pretty good listener?” You raise your brows, crossing your arms in your chest.

“Sorry, please, continue,” he encourages you.

“Anyway, I do have feelings for him but I can’t act on them for a number of reasons that I can’t really talk about,” you close your eyes, resting your head on the cold wall. It felt good to take it off your chest for once, and opening up about this felt liberating.

Diggory stared at you confused. “Pardon me if I’m intruding, but I’d say your chances with the guy are pretty good. I mean, it’s quite clear that your feelings are reciprocated. For example, that day during quidditch practice when he saw the two of us talking... he did look pretty annoyed to me and today, well, you just saw what happened,” he shrugged.

“I know that he harbors feelings for me as well, and that’s the point. He can’t. We can’t have feelings for each other. I’m not his destiny and neither he is mine,” you tilt your head to your right a little so you could look at Amos.

“How can you possibly say that? We never know what tomorrow has in storage for us,” he states.

“Except that I do, and that’s exactly why I can’t encourage his feelings nor my own,” you sigh hopelessly.

“I suppose that’s the part you can’t discuss?” He smiles sympathetic at you.

“Exactly,” you frown sadly.

“How can I help you?” He asks suddenly. “Well I suppose that’s why you flirted with me a while ago, right?! You don’t strike me as the kind of girl who’d randomly throw her arms around a guy’s neck in empty hallways. Specially having told the guy in question that she has feelings for another one moments later,” he adds mockingly after seeing the confused expression on your face.

“Right,” you frown sheepishly. “I kinda told James a few days back that I was already seeing someone, right after he kissed me.”

“Wow, harsh,” he frowns playfully.

“Yeah, I know. I just didn’t know what else to do, I sort of panicked,” you shrug.

“You can count on me. But before I leave to class, I just need to ask you something. Is this secret motivation of yours really worth the trouble of sacrificing a potential relationship and a few friendships over? Think about it, L/N. See you in transfiguration in a few,” he says before disappearing into the castle, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

——————————

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[brax-was-here]

Scarlet Briar: The Seeds of Life Chapter 5

Written by: Braxxus

Chapter 5: We Thought You Had Perished

Sometimes plans don’t go as planned 

Sounds of the jungle’s inhabitants buzzed all around Ceara as she travelled through the unforgiving terrain, evading sparce groups of mordrem as she followed the roughly cut path.

“A relic of Mordremoth?” she thought to herself. The vegetation of the jungle slowly diminished giving away to an open area shattered by Mordremoth’s vines

“Why can’t I be rid of him?”  she muttered to herself as she passed by inert thorn covered vines jutting everywhere from the ground. The plateau eventually narrowed to a point overlooking a chasm.

“Well…” She muttered as she looked over the edge of the cliff into the canyon below. “I guess this is the moment of truth.” The breeze whipped past her as she mulled over her choices. “It’s either risking death or…” she turned, looking back the way she came. “Or finding the longest way around.” She placed her goggles over her eyes and looked out over the canyon. She opened a panel on one of her gauntlets, focusing on a ridge on the far wall.

“Feh, not there.” She spat as a small reading came up indicating it was too far to reach by teleportation. She looked at the canyon floor. The same reading came up.

“Thorns.” She tried one other ridge that was closer, but it too was too far away.

“Well…I have my answer.” She reluctantly resigned herself to using the glider Zuma had given her. She breathed in deep as she stepped a few yards away from the ledge, deploying the wings. She pressed a switch on her gauntlet. “Hopefully if I fall, I’ll be able to teleport somewhere to a safe spot…maybe. Anyway, here we go…” She raced to the canyon edge and leapt. She started falling at first, until the wind caught her and carried her away from the canyon wall.

“AAAAAH HAHAHAHA!!!” she screamed as she realized she as gliding down the canyon, her heart racing with excitement. “I’M FLYING!” She hadn’t felt this excited since the first time she jumped through one of her steam portals.

“Cian…” The terrain passed below her as her thoughts briefly drifted back to the sylvari from long ago and how he dreamed of flying with the birds. “I’m sorry…” she smiled as she watched the canyon pass by. “Well, no time to dwell on such things now.” She thought as she slowly descended to the ground. Once again, she stumbled slightly upon landing.

“I’m going to have to practice that landing part.” She muttered as she got to her feet. She turned and looked back the way she came to see how far she had travelled.

“Wow.” She lightly gasped, smiling. “Who knew it was possible? Anyway, no time to waste.” She closed the glider wings and continued her journey through the canyon.

“Mordremoth…” she whispered as she looked up the canyon walls. Giant vines protruded along the route, twisting and threading through the canyon. Her anger simmered at the memories of what he had done to her.

“I wish I could have delivered the death knell myself.” Her lips twisted in disgust as she looked down at the canyon floor in front of her. “That bastard…” she hissed. Drawing a deep breath, she tried to push the memories from her thoughts. Travelling around a bend, she spied the wreckage of a pact airship in the distance, crushed within the coil of a slew of vines. The air was deathly still as she cautiously approached the area, readying her rifle. Only the sounds of far-off jungle birds made any sounds. The debris field around the smashed ship was large, with nothing recognizable, save for a couple makeshift cannons set up on ramshackle supports. There were signs of a hastily built camp, but she could tell it had not been inhabited in a long time. Makeshift weapons were strewn about the area.

She knelt, grabbing a piece of sharpen metal fitted with a hastily carved wooden handle. “They used whatever they could to fend off the dragon’s minions.” She thought to herself looking over the weapon. A slight squeak in the wreckage pulled her attention away. Dropping the knife, she readied her rifle, catching movement through the hull of the airship. She could hear the sounds of scarp metal rattling as something was moving quickly through the wreck.  

“Skritt? Are you skritt? Come out. Now!” A small lizard hopped onto a top of an open container, peeping at her.

“Oh…” a small sigh of relief as she lowered her weapon. Just then more appeared from the wreckage. They wasted no time charging at her.

“GAH!” she gasped as she instinctively dropped her rifle and activated her force shield just as they surrounded her.

“I definitely don’t have time for this nonsense!” she spat as she unhooked the handle of a beam saber from her belt. Igniting the blade, she dispatched the small creatures quickly.

“I’m not your dinner!” She growled as she sliced the last of the small reptiles. “Wonderful. Something else to watch for in the place.” She snarled as she hooked the hilt back to her belt before picking up her rifle.

“Ok, this has got to go for now.” She removed the glider and set it against a pile of twisted metal. “As useful as this glider is, it’s quite cumbersome.” She cautiously climbed through the hull. “Empty containers, improvised weapons…and blood everywhere.” she noted as she looked at a dried patch of what appeared to be blood smeared across a panel of the airship.

“And no remains of the pact members anywhere. Hmm…” she spied a small book laying under a piece of twisted flooring.

“What have we here…A journal of sorts.” She leaned her rifle against a piece of debris as she started flipping through the pages. “It belonged to an asura named Gledde.” She continued paging through it, stopping at an entry.

“Twenty-four hours have passed since we were yanked from the sky by Mordremoth. Half of our sylvari comrades have abandoned us, running off into the jungle following a “call”. The ones that have stayed are doing their best to stay focused. We’ve done our best to fortify the wreck site and set up a camp. We’ve managed to salvage enough supplies from the storage lockers to last a few days, maybe a week, and made some extra weapons out of parts of the ship. Also, we were able to get a couple cannons set up for defense.”

She turned the page. “The mordrem are everywhere. We can feel them watching from the trees. Their attacks are sporadic, and when they withdrawal, they drag the bodies of the fallen with them. It’s a little unnerving to say the least. Are they eating the dead? It’s something I’d rather not think about. Hopefully we’ll be rescued soon.”

“Five days have now passed. Our supplies are dwindling, our numbers are shrinking. We can only light the signal fires for a short time before we have to extinguish them for fear of attracting the enemy. I fear we may not make it back to Tyria.” She paused as a small light blink on one of her gauntlets. “Hmm?”

“Someone’s behind me…” she thought. In an instant she unholstered her pistol and spun around to find another pistol pointed at her face.  She glared at the individual clad in brown leather armor, a scarf and bandana concealing his face, leaving only bright blue eyes staring at her. She glanced at the uncovered arm holding the pistol, blue sylvari skin revealing the identity of her assailant.

“Well…” she spoke slyly. “This is particularly interesting…” she smiled. She dropped the journal, smacking her assailants pistol aside with her own. She pulled the trigger, firing a shot but the blue sylvari was able to sidestep her. He grabbed her arm, locking it in position. Planting his foot behind her, he grabbed her around the neck and tossed her to the ground. She brought her pistol around, but he kicked it away, planting one foot on her right arm and a knee on her left, pinning her down.

“Oooooh, how did you know I like it rough!?” she mockingly squealed. “Just be warned…I never kiss on the first date.” He pointed his pistol at her. She smiled.

“So why don’t you tell me who you are before you have your way with me?” she asked slyly.

“Scarlet Briar…” a deep voice spoke behind the scarf.

Ceara sighed, rolling her eyes. “No, that’s me. I asked you who you are...Harbinger!”

Her assailant paused a moment before pulling his scarf away, revealing the face of a sylvari she had read about in Amaranda’s book.

“Malyck…how nice to finally make your acquaintance.” she smiled.

“Why are you in this jungle?” he asked, his tone very serious.

“Why, I’ve come to pick flowers.” She replied sarcastically. He pointed his pistol at her forehead.

“I know what you have done to Tyria, woman. Do not provoke me.”

“You mean what Mordremoth did to Tyria.” She spat back.

“Mordremoth? It was you who awoke him.”

“He controlled me.” She said, her anger starting to rise. “Now, unless you plan to ravish me, would you be so kind as to remove your pistol and let me up?”

“You are-“ he was cut off by voices nearby.

“I’m sure the shot came from near this wreckage. Probably inside.”

“Ok, you check inside. I’ll stand guard out here and keep an eye out.”

They both looked out and saw two sylvari approaching.

“Nightmare courtiers.” Ceara whispered recognizing their armor. Malyck rolled off her ducking behind a pile of scrap metal. Ceara pushed a switch on her gauntlet, activating her stealth field. She ducked behind a large piece of metal plating.

“Thorns…” she spat as she watched one of the courtiers picked up the glider.

“Someone was definitely here. Look at this.”

“That’s one of those gliding things the frogs had.” The other spoke. “Do you think it’s still here?”

“Not sure. Be on your guard.” They watched as the courtier entered the hull of the ship, his sword drawn. His gaze settled upon Ceara’s rifle. “Whoa…” he gasped, picking it up from its resting place. “What kind of weapon is this?” he turned and hurried out of the wreckage. “Hey, look at this!” he shouted.

“Whoa. That thing is…that is impressive. What kind of rifle is that? It looks like something the rats would make at Rata Sum.”

Ceara’s field faded. Malyck glanced at her before turning his attention back to the courtiers.

“We could kill them easily.” he whispered. Ceara nodded, bringing her pistol up.

“I’m sure Nafiona would love to have this in her arsenal.” One of the courtiers spoke.

“Nafiona?” Ceara whispered. She looked at Malyck, who was bringing his own pistol to bear on them.

“Wait!” she whispered. He looked at her confused. “I have a plan.” She slowly reached into one of her satchels, pulling out two small devices. She pressed a button each, attaching on the inside of the skirt of her armor. She tossed the other to Malyck, who looked at her puzzled.

“What are you doing?” He asked looking at the device.

“It’s a tracking device...” She whispered. “So you can find me.”

“What? Why would I want to do that?”

“There is a frog village to the east with an acquaintance that is looking for this group of courtiers. Head there to get her and some help.”

“Why should I help you?” he protested.

“Because they are both our enemy, and this Nafiona wants some powerful relic of Mordremoth that is in this jungle somewhere.”

“Relic of Mordremoth? What is that?”

“I don’t know, but I have the feeling it’s going to be bad for all of us if she finds it. So please, go to the village and get help.”

“What are you going to do?” he muttered as she pulled her hood up and stood quietly.  

“I’m going with them. To find their camp. Just be ready in case this goes south quickly.” She started moving towards the courtiers.

“Wait…what? Are you mad?” he asked. She gave him a disgusted look.

“Your words hurt, harbinger.”

“Don’t call me that. I am not some harbinger of doom.” He replied back. She started towards the opening in the hull.

“Would you be as so kind to return my weapon to me?” she commanded loudly as she moved through the wreckage, her hand resting on her pistol under her cloak.

“Who’s there!?” the courtiers turned, one drawing her bow, the other pointing the rifle. “Show yourself!” Ceara exited through the hole in the wrecked ship.

“Do you not know me?” Ceara asked, removing her hood. The faces of the courtiers dropped.

“M…Madam Scarlet!?” one asked disbelievingly. Ceara, stifled her gasp, trying her best to hide her surprise at the name.

“You…you’re dead!” the other added.

“Well obviously I’m not! I seem to be very much alive! Now why are you courtiers out here in the jungle!?” she asked coyly.

The duo looked at each other.

“Well!?” Ceara acted agitated.

“Uh…Madam Scarlet, we’re here with Nafiona. She’s on the hunt for something powerful. Something she could use to unite the Nightmare Court.”

Ceara brought her hand up to her face, resting her elbow on her other arm, acting as if she was pondering the Courtiers comment. “What is your name, boy?” She finally asked him.

“Caelan…madam.” He replied, somewhat sheepishly.

“Caelan?” She paused a moment, narrowing her eyes at him. “You were at the nightmare tower…” she muttered.

“Yes, Madam.”

“Are you still catching flies with your mouth?”

“Uh?” Caelan reached up and found his mouth hanging slightly open.

“That’s what I thought.” Ceara snarled at him. “My rifle…now!” Caelan quickly held the rifle out, kneeling before her. She pulled the clip out looking inside of it.

“Hmm…” she raised a hand in the air in front of her, causing a small holographic panel to appear. She tapped a few keys in sequence and another clip appeared in her hand. Plugging it into the rifle, she activated it. The rifle powered up, extending its barrel and projecting holograms around it giving readings. The coutiers were seemingly amazed at it.

“That…that is an impressive piece of equipment, Madam.” The woman said.

Ceara glanced at her with a sly smile, deactivating her weapon and slinging it over her shoulder.

“So, what is your name, girl?”

“Orla, madam.” The sylvari bowed.

“Orla…I do not know you.” Ceara looked at her. “How many more of you are there?”

“Madam, a little over twenty.”

“Twenty? Well, the court seems to have shrunken these days without Faolain to guide it.”

“The court still exists, Madam. It’s just…” Caelan paused. “just that some traitors felt the need to try to control it. Nafiona will make them see the error of their ways.”

“Oooh, so…it’s fractured, you say?” Ceara mockingly pondered the thought. “It seems the warlords are thirsty for power. Where is Nafiona now?”

“She is with the main group, Madam.” Orla replied.

“Take me to her.”

The duo looked at each other before responding. “Yes, Madam.” Ceara glanced over her shoulder towards where Malyck was hiding and gave a slight nod.

“So, I’ll finally meet this Nafiona.” She thought to herself.

Malyck watched the trio leave the wreck site, soon joined by a third courtier member that was hiding in the vegetation. He cautiously made his way to opening, peering out to make sure there was no one else there.

“Relic of Mordremoth…” he spoke quietly to himself as he looked at the tracking device Scarlet Briar had given him.

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Liathlas slowly stirred as Mabli applied more extract to her wound.

“Ceara, what happen-“ Liathlas’s eyes went wide as she opened them and gazed upon the visage of a giant frog staring at her. “Um..hello” she stammered as she froze.

“Don’t be afraid. I am applying medicine to helping you.”

“Medicine?”

“Yes, you were afflicted by poison from the mordrem. I was able to save you before it was too late.”

“The mordrem? Where’s Ceara?”

“Your friend travelled ahead towards the west into the jungle in search of others of your kind.” Mabli answered, wiping her hands.

“Of my kind? What are…ow…” Trying to sit up Liathlas grimaced as her whole body ached.

“Lay down. You must rest until the poison is removed completely.” Mabli stated.

“I…can’t…Ceara is out there in the jungle and I need to catch up to her.” Liathlas stood up, shakily leaning against her staff as the room seem to wobble.

“you are too weak to travel. Especially with the sun setting. The mordrem are more active at night.” Mabli moved to the entrance to her hut. “Look, the villagers are locking down the village as we speak for the evening.” Liathlas slowly hobbled next to her and looked out over the trees.”

“Oh..my…” she gasped as the realization hit her that the village was suspended high in the canopy of the jungle. Villagers were steadily taking up rope bridges and walkways that lead down to the surface below.

“So we’re trapped here? Until morning?” Liathlas asked. Mabli nodded her head.

“But why are these mordrem still hostile? There were others…other modrem that we met in the wastes that were not hostile. They seemed…remorseful.”

“Not all the mordrem have relented the call of the jungle dragon.” Mabli turned and walked over to a small lantern. “Their minds gone. They still follow what he called them to do.” She reached into a small pouch, pulling out a pinch of a powder that she rubbed in between her fingers, sprinkling it into the lantern flame. She clapped her hands together, causing an ethereal image to appear.

“Your kind fell to the dragon in droves.” Mabli spoke. Liathlas watched as various sylvari were slowly transformed into the mordrem guard, thick plates of rough bark-like skin growing over their bodies, their faces twisting into hideous monstrous forms. Liathlas moved closer.

“Not all of your kind were so easily swayed by the dragons call. These heroes arrived here to defeat the jungle dragon.” Images of battle appeared in the fog.

“Is that…Trahearne? And Faolain?” Liathlas asked. Images of the members of Destiny’s Edge fighting the sylvari filled the cloud. Caithe being chased by a great beast bearing Faolain’s image. Trahearne and others being taken into the jungle by mordrem. Members of the pact fighting, being slain by the sylvari.

“All hope seemed lost, save for the timely arrival of another group of heroes.” The fog shifted, revealing a small group that Liathlas did not recognize, but for two. The Pact Commander and the sylvari Canach. “This group traversed the jungle and found a way to stop the jungle dragon.” The image changed again, showing the mordrem guard. Some dropping their weapons, some screaming in agony, others turning on their own kind.

“Without the call of Mordremoth…” Liathlas started.

“They were lost.” Mabli finished. “Some accepted what they had become. Others still cling to their masters call.”

“And still others try to return to the Grove…” Liathlas spoke softly. The mist faded. Liathlas sighed turning to the doorway. “I’ve got to fin-WHAAAAA!!” She found a blue skinned sylvari standing in the entry way to the hut.

“If you are looking for Scarlet Briar…” Malyck started, holding up the small tracking device. “This will lead us to her.”

 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ceara followed the group of courtiers through the rocky ravines and ravaged terrain. Giant vines of the jungle dragon towered over head, coiling around wreckage of the pact fleet, holding the twisted shells of the airships aloft high in the air.

“With Mordremoth dead, you would think these vines would weaken and come crashing down.” She muttered.

“It would seem so.” Caelan replied.

“Madam, how did you survive the Lion’s Arch battle?” Orla asked over her shoulder.

“Quick thinking and planning.” Ceara smirked, glancing at the courtier next to her. “I knew they would attack the Breachmaker. I knew I had limited time to do what I needed to do and get out.”

“But the rumors said you were stabbed and killed.”

“Holograms are wonderful things, aren’t they? When used properly, they can fool anyone.” She said slyly, grabbing a mordrem vine and snapping the end off. It crumbled to pieces, disintegrating in her hand.

“The sun is setting.” The third coutier mentioned. “We need to hurry to the camp.”

“Oh my! You do speak!” Ceara quipped. “And here I thought you were mute. What is your name?”

“Odhran.” He replied sharply, keeping his gaze looking forward.

“Odhran.” Ceara repeated. “Well, Odhran, what are you about?”

The courtier cut his eyes at Ceara briefly before setting his gaze forward, never answering.

“It’s ok, courtier. You don’t have to be shy.” Ceara snarked.

“Can we kill this one?” Odhran asked, a hint of agitation in his voice. Ceara stopped, her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. “Her constant rabble is very irritating.” He continued.

Ceara placed her hand on her pistol under her cloak. “I’d watch your tongue, if I were you, boy.”

Ordhran stopped, turning quickly to face Ceara, his hand on his sword. Ceara stared him in the eyes, a slight smirk on her face.

Orla and Caedan both turned to see the standoff.

“What is it, boy? Do you think your sword is good enough to take me?” Ceara asked whimsically, her smile broadening.

“Ordhran, stop this nonsense. Madam Scarlet is just talkative!” Orla stood between them, shaking her finger in Ordhran’s face.

“Orla, you do that again and I’ll be sure to bite it off.” Ordhran glanced at Ceara again before turning to continue along the path. His quickly moved to the front of the group.

“I’m sorry, Madam.” Orla bowed to Ceara.

“Next time, I won’t wait.” Ceara replied to her.

The group continued on, the rocky terrain eventually changing to more of the lush forest. Every so often, the Ceara would spot a marker on a tree along the path.

“You seem to know this area fairly well. Have you been here for a while?” Ceara asked.

“We’ve scouted the area.” Caedan replied. “The camp is on that plateau.” He pointed to ridge not far in the distance. Reaching the crest, Ceara saw the Nightmare Court camp in the distance.

“Aren’t you afraid of the mordrem attacking?” she asked.

“We have ways of keeping them at bay.” Orla said to her.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Mmhmm.” She nodded her head.

Ceara reached under the lip of the skirt of her armor and pulled out the small device. She pressed a small switch on it and placed it against a tree as she walked by. As they approached, she looked over the encampment. Numerous small tents were set up, along with hastily constructed barriers built from the trees near the camp. Various sylvari were busy at work setting up more defenses. Ceara noticed some machinery set along the perimeter of the camp.

“What are those machines?” she asked inquisitively.

“Part of our defense against the mordrem, and anything else that happens that tries to make it to the camp.” Caedan spoke.

“I see.”

The group entered the camp. Ordhran quickly left the group, marching to a nearby tent. The other two took Ceara to a small fire pit near the center of the compound.

“Ordhran is getting the duchess now. I think she’ll be happy to see you!” Orla eyes were bright as she looked at Ceara.

“Activate the field!” a voice called out.

“Activating!” another replied. Ceara watched as the camp was quickly covered in a dome of energy before it faded.

“Was that what I think it was?” Ceara asked.

“An illusion field, like the one that hid the tower in Kessex.” Caedan said to her. “We thought you might like that.” he smiled.

“Interesting…” Ceara looked around the camp.

“Part of our protection from the predators of the jungle.” He added. Ceara lightly nodded, a feeling of uncertainty filling her stomach.

“Something isn’t right here.” She thought to herself.

“Well…if it isn’t Madam Scarlet Briar herself.” A sultry voice spoke from behind. Ceara turned to see a purple skinned sylvari female in dark robes approaching.

“Toxic alliance…” Ceara muttered to herself, noticing the shoulder pauldrons, gauntlets, and boots the woman was wearing. Ceara thinned her eyes at her.

“And here we all thought you had perished.” She spoke slyly.

“I assume you must be Nafiona.” Ceara said sharply.

“You assume correctly. So, tell me, Madam…” Nafiona said in a mocking tone.  “What magic was used to raise you from the depths of the harbor? And without a single blemish.” Nafiona smiled. “I’m sure you tasted rather bitter to the sea life down there.”

“Planning and preparedness is what kept me alive.” Ceara smiled.

“Is that so?” Plans within plans. Always prepared.” Nafiona spoke softly. “Even at the nightmare tower. You had a plan to escape.”

“I’m always ready.” Ceara smirked. “Now what are you doing all the way out here in the jungle. Surely you aren’t here to follow Mordremoth?”

“Of course not. We have you to thank for nearly destroying our people. That was your game plan all along. To awaken the jungle dragon and force the sylvari into slavery. Having that damn voice in our heads nearly drove us insane.”

“You don’t say!” Ceara quipped. “Please tell me about it! Tell me how it took all your willpower to keep focused as Mordremoth filled your head with thoughts that you couldn’t tell were actually your own or not. That something was residing within you. Trying to take control.” Ceara gritted her teeth. Anger showed on Nafiona’s face. Tension was in the air. Ceara steadied her hand by her pistol as she noticed she was being flanked by courtiers.

“They’re up to something.” She thought. Nafiona raised her head slightly, looking down her nose at Ceara. “Now, why don’t you call off your courtiers and maybe we can talk about-“

“Seize her.” Nafiona commanded, cutting Ceara off. The group of courtiers tackled Ceara to the ground. Ceara didn’t fight back, allowing herself to be picked up and held in a kneeling position in front of Nafiona. Her weapons were removed as a courtier grabbed her by her foilage and held her face towards the glaring Nafiona. Nafiona stepped in front of her, grabbing Ceara firmly by the chin.

“You left us there. You promised us power and glory in the new world, and you left us to the mercy of the Lionguard and Seraph. And not just them. The krait also turned against us.” She threw Ceara’s head to the side, scratching her cheek in the process. Ceara paused for a moment, her eyes closed. Taking a deep breath, she slowly opened her eyes, cutting them at Nafiona.

“So now you want your revenge?” Ceara asked coyly. “What are you going to do? Feed me to the mordrem?”

Nafiona smiled. “You are a bright one.”

“Well, I did embarrass all those stiffs in Rata Sum.”

“Heh.” Nafiona smirked as she snapped her fingers. Ceara felt something heavy hit the back of her head before blacking out.

“Strip her, cage her. We’ll get her strung up in the morning before we head off to the corpse grove.” Nafiona ordered. “Are the canisters ready?”

“Yes, m’lady.” Ordhran replied. “Loaded up and ready to be armed once we get there.”

“Excellent.” She turned her head slowly, looking down at the unconscious Ceara.

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“We can’t just sit here while Ceara is out there with the Nightmare Court. She’s in trouble!” Liathlas protested.

“Travelling through the jungle is too risky. If we go now, we would be overwhelmed by the mordrem. We must wait until morning.” Mabli insisted.

“Hmph!” Liathlas turned to the door agitated. The night sky had fallen and most of the village’s torches had been extinguished.

“If she is as resourceful as I have heard, then this Ceara should be able to handle the Court with little problems.” Malyck spoke. “We can’t run after them unprepared.” He turned to Mabli.  “How many arrived in this village?”

“A group of five. They were asking for information about the land, and certain locations throughout the jungle. They asked about the ‘corpse grove’.”

“Corpse grove?” Liathlas turned away from the door.

“Yes, it is a place of death. Many mordrem are there. We stay away from the area, never venturing close.”

“I’ve seen it from afar.” Malyck stated.

“What is it?” Liathlas inquired.

“It is a tree, grown from Mordremoth. A place where the mordrem are created and grown. Akin to your Pale Tree and her sylvari.” Malyck responded to her.

“Hmm…she is looking for an item of great power. Do you think whatever she is looking for is there?” Liathlas asked.

“That is hard to say. Who knows what the mordrem are holding in their possession?” Mabli stated.

Liathlas sighed deeply. She plopped down next to the wall of the hut, resting her head against the mud and wooden structure before looking at Malyck. “So, Malyck. What is your story? From what I have heard in the past, you aren’t one of us.”

“No, I’m not.” He glared at her. “I came from a different tree. One that no longer exists.”

Liathlas looked at him inquisitively. “What happened?”

He sat down across the hut from her. “When I returned to the jungle, I searched a long time for my home and my patience rewarded me. I was lucky enough to find it. A grand tree, not as tall as your Pale Tree, but majestic none the less. I told my people that there were others of our kind and that we should rise up to help fight the dragons. Then Mordremoth awakened. When he rose, his creatures attacked my home. He enslaved those that were captured, killed those that resisted. He turned them into his mordrem. I do not know how many of us were able to escape. I watched as my home whithered and perished.”

“I’m sorry.” Liathlas said softly as she turned her gaze to the floor of the hut.

“We should get some sleep. We’ll need to be well rested before going after the Nightmare Court in the morning.” He said to her.