#i did NOT need to read about how terrified kit is of being like his dad

[wikitpowers]

“And you made me someone who has to keep a secret I never wanted to keep. I was raised by someone who had so many awful secrets, and when I started my life as a Shadowhunter I wanted to do it openly, and honestly. But now I’m just someone else with secrets I can never tell. Just like my dad.”

[in1-nutshell]

I need more of Megatron being a terrible father.

I need Soundwave realizing that Buddy will never be safe on Nemisis and creates a plan for her to escape, entirely against her will. She has been raised that the worst thing you can do is betray Megatron. She's terrified of what will happen to her if she leaves.

I need Soundwave to throw her at the autobots through a ground bridge with a bow on top and a sticker thar says handle with care.

I need buddy to be freaking the fuck out for the next few days while she's with the autobots.

I need Optimus and Ratchet to be low-key (high key) horrified at what has become of her. How funny little buddy who liked to read and the color purple now can't look anyone in the eye.

I need the rest of the autobots being EXTREMELY warry of her because she's MEGATRONS KID

And I need Bulkhead to just move a little too quickly in her direction, and she just crumbles to the floor begging for mercy. I need them to know exactly how shitty of a father Megatron is.

Bonus points if Miko asks about her daddy issues.

Bonus bonus points for Optimus learning that before Megatron came back and did drugs, Buddy was in charge and was trying to reach them for peace negotiations and mentally slamming his head against the wall.

Tis here! After hours of editing and writing... the second part to Megatron's daughter!

Thank you to everyone who has posted their comments about the last one, it means a lot!

Hope you enjoy!

Megatron's daughter with the opposite personality: Soundwave's Plan part 2

SFW, Platonic, ANGST, You have been warned!, Hurt and Comfort, Cybertronain reader

TFP

It took longer than expected but Soundwave finally found one night where everything could fall into place. His plan would act.

Megatron and Starscream had left the Nemesis to look over some energon tunnels, leaving the Nemesis without its leader.

Without anyone competent on the cameras.

Carefully, he put a loop schedule on the cameras as he made his way to Buddy’s room.

The mini was in deep sleep, exhausted from the recovery of her injuries.

It wasn’t wise to get her out of the med bay like this, but what choice did he have. At this rate, Megatron was going to want to train her while she is recovering.

Buddy still had some fresh dents and welding marks littered across her frame. Knockout refused to mess with them until the next day to avoid further armor complications.

Soundwave carefully picked up his niece and headed out the door.

Thankfully Buddy was an extremely heavy sleeper in recovery. If she were awake now during the escape, she surely would have thrown a fit about all of this.

He created a groundbridge and stepped through it, the cool night of the dessert greeted him when he stepped out.

Buddy was still out cold.

Soundwave hoped that the fake emergency signal he sent out would reach the Autobots soon, he was already betting so much with Buddy and the position of the Nemesis like this.

Another groundbrigde opened behind him a couple feet away.

Optimus and Ratchet come out of the groundbrigde.

Optimus with his blaster at the ready with Ratchet holding his med kit in one servo.

“Soundwave?”--Optimus

Soundwave turning around with Buddy in his arms.

Both Autobots optics go wide.

“Is… is that—”--Ratchet

“Buddy?”--Optimus

Soundwave nods slightly and begins to walk forward.

The Autobots tensing up a bit.

“I—come here—in—peace.”—Soundwave

“And how can we trust you?”—Ratchet

“You—don’t.”--Soundwave

Soundwave walks towards the Prime and stops in front of him.

Ratchet takes a look at Buddy, servos slightly shaking seeing the dents and welding marks.

“What is this? What happened?”--Ratchet

“Buddy—not—safe—on the Nemesis.”--Soundwave

“What do you mean she isn’t safe on the Nemesis? She’s Megtron’s daughter who would be daft enough to—”--Ratchet

Soundwave gently pushes her to Primes arms.

Prime reflexively cradles Buddy’s frame closer to him.

“Why did you call us Soundwave? Surely, if this is about Buddy’s health, Megatron would have—”--Optimus

“Megatron—did this.”--Soundwave

“…What?”--Optimus

“Megatron—hurt her. Too much—damage done. Buddy—not safe—on—Nemesis. I—cannot keep—her—safe. Prime can—keep her—safe.”--Soundwave

“…Megatron hurt her… Do you mean to tell us all this damage was Megatron’s doing?”--Optimus

Soundwave nods silently and turns walking away.

“Wait so you’re just going to leave her!?”--Ratchet

Soundwave stops for a moment.

“Buddy—not safe. Buddy—safe—with Prime.”--Soundwave

Soundwave gives one last glance to Buddy’s sleeping form before going through his groundbridge.

Ratchet and Optimus are stun in silence fully rerestarting the words.

Buddy yawns a bit and snuggles closer to Prime’s chassis.

Prime instinctively holds her closer.

Both Autobots are furious and worried over their niece.

“Bulkhead, open up the groundbrigde. We are bringing in someone.”--Ratchet

The three of them returned and everyone was immediately swarming the Prime holding an injured minibot. Everyone is curious about them. The kids are especially curious. This bot was smaller than Arcee, much closer to their size.

Arcee looks at a scratched up Decepticon logo.

Her blasters go up.

“Woah! Woah! Woah! Arcee what are you doing!?”--Bulkhead

“That’s a Con! Why did you bring them here!?”--Arcee

Buddy yawns a bit and begins to open her optics slowly.

“Primus… that hurt… note to self, get a—”--Buddy

Buddy looks up at the very blur optics staring right back at her.

Buddy slowly looks around at the Autobots around her, especially the one with the blaster trained on her chassis.

“Primus tell me this is a dream…”--Buddy

Buddy patting the ends of Optimus’s digits slowly.

They aren’t sharp…

They aren’t sharp!

“OH PRIMUS THIS IS REAL!”--Buddy

Buddy somehow jumps out of the Prime’s servos and starts running to the door.

“Get her!”--Arcee

Smokescreen tries to tackle her down, but she sidesteps making him crash into a wall.

Arcee tries to fire a blast at her, but Optimus immediately puts the blaster down.

“Stand down everyone!”--Optimus

“But Prime—”--Arcee

“Stand down!”--Optimus

Everyone, even Buddy in the corner stops.

Optimus turns to Buddy who is shaking in the corner staring right back at him.

Ratchet is the first to make a move and slowly walks to Buddy.

Buddy tries to press herself more into the wall as ratchet stops in front of her.

“…Hello Buddy…”--Ratchet

“…Dr. Ratchet?”--Buddy

Ratchet gives her a tired smile.

“I’m going to look at some of your welding’s and dents. Is that okay?”--Ratchet

Buddy stops for a moment before nodding her helm, slowly sinking down to the floor letting Ratchet make a few checks on the wounds.

Buddy asks what she is doing on their base.

Something that everyone wants to know.

Optimus tells them about Soundwave’s visit.

How Soundwave wanted Buddy to stay with Prime as the Nemesis was no longer safe for her.

Buddy is in deep denial.

There was no way that Soundwave would do that.

Not after everything they went through.

But the more she thought about it… the more it made sense.

Soundwave wanted her to be safe, and he thought that Optimus was going to keep her safe.

Many bots looked uneasy at her.

They had a good reason too.

This was Megatron’s daughter after all.

What if Megatron came knocking on their door with bombs demanding the sparkling back?

Buddy is granted refuge by Optimus despite some opinions.

The tensions in the base were thick.

Buddy stuck by Ratchet’s side the entire time.

No one wanted anything to do with her, which she understood.

Something that she wasn’t expecting was one of the humans to come up to her and try and kick her pede.

Buddy cleaning some of Ratchet’s tools.

CLANG!

Buddy looks down to see an angry human girl looking at her.

“That was for Raf!”--Miko

“What is this ‘Raf’?”--Buddy

“You’re dad nearly killed him!”--Miko

Buddy looks at the smaller human boy semi hiding behind the taller human boy.

She hangs her head a bit.

“I am truly sorry for my… father’s actions young Raf.”--Buddy

Miko, Jack, and Raf look surprised by the apology.

“Yeah, well a sorry isn’t—”--Miko

“It’s okay.”--Raf

“It is?”--Buddy

“It is!”--Miko

“Yeah, it happened a while ago, but you didn’t have anything to do with it, right?”--Raf

Buddy looking slightly horrified.

“Of course not! I would never want to hurt your indigenous population on purpose or with any malicious intent!”--Buddy

“…wow…”--Jack

“You don’t seem to be related to old Bucket head.”--Miko

“Well… you wouldn’t be completely wrong. He found me in the streets of Kaon in a trash bin.”--Buddy

“So, you’re a dumpster baby?”--Miko

“Miko!”--Jack

“I suppose so. Miko… is that your designation?”--Buddy

“Yep! You know… you don’t exactly fit the Con description. Like at all. One your small—”--Miko

“I’m taller than you, though.”--Buddy

“Yet, Arcee has more height on you.”--Jack

“Arcee? Was that the one who—”--Buddy

“Tried to put more holes in you? Yeah, I’m Jack by the way.”--Jack

“Pleasure to meet you, Jack. My designation is Buddy.”--Buddy

“Wait really? I thought Ratchet said that to calm you down. Coming from Megs kid, I’d think that you’d be named something like ‘Skullcrusher’ or ‘Smash’ or something threatening.”—Miko

“Orion actually gave me the name.”—Buddy

“Orion? Wait as in…”----Jack

The kids and Buddy looking across the room at Optimus and Bumblebee talking.

“Yep.”—Buddy

Miko plopping down in front of Buddy.

“All right spill the lore!”—Miko

“What’s lore?”—Buddy

Things slowly became less tense with the kids acting as an olive branch.

The first ones to come around were Bumblebee and Smokescreen.

It only made sense being that Buddy was near the same age as the two.

The three of them would chat about human media and the latest movies they watched with the kids.

Buddy became very fond of the movie nights the kids would put up.

“Hey, it’s my turn to sit there!”—Smokescreen

Buddy sitting right behind the kids to watch the projector.

“I’m shorter so I get to sit here.I wouldn’t be able to see anything with your big helms in the way. Its only logical.”—Buddy

Miko hoping into Buddy’s lap with a blanket to ‘cover' them both.

“Aww. C’mon! Bee?”—Smokescreen

Bumblebee laying on his side slightly behind Buddy with Raf laying down on his helm with a yellow blanket.

“Beep boop bep beep (You snooze you loose, Smokescreen)”—Bumblebee

Smokescreen laying down, slightly sulking behind Buddy, with Jack slightly leaning on him with a pillow on his head.

“Traitor.”--Smokescreen

“Act you age Smokescreen.”--Buddy

“Wait who is the older one here anyways?”--Raf

“That would be Smokescreen. Bumblebee is the youngest one out of the three of us.”--Buddy

“So, you’re the middle child?”--Miko

“Yes?”—Buddy

Strangely, Magnus and Arcee where the next ones to fall.

It was all thanks to Buddy trying to prove that she wasn’t here for anything malicious.

The two had decided to do some training with the minibot.

They were surprised to see how well the mini could move so quickly and so fast.

Whatever training Buddy had previously was good.

Buddy dodging another attack from Arcee.

“That’s enough. Training is over.”--Magnus

Buddy huffing a bit.

“You tired already? Would have figured that you had more in you.”--Arcee

“You wish Arcee. You barely touched me this time.”--Buddy

“This time. Wait till next time.”--Arcee

Buddy smiling a bit before turning to Magnus, straightening her back struts a bit.

“Ultra Magnus, sir?”--Buddy

“The training was adequate. You need to learn how to attack faster at your opponent’s weak spots.”--Magnus

“I will do my best sir.”--Buddy

Magnus giving a small smile before leaving the room.

Buddy smiling a bit, trying to ignore the shaking servos when she left the room.

Bulkhead and Wheeljack were the last to fall.

It was all thanks to Miko.

Miko had been trying for a while to get them to play with Buddy.

Wheeljack flat out refused to work with Buddy, still thinking that this could have all been some sort of elaborate trick.

Bulkhead was a bit more open minded, but he backed Wheeljack up.

But after a bit of convincing, she managed to get them to play at least one game with her.

And it worked.

Bulkhead soon became another friend of Buddy’s while Wheeljack followed closely behind.

Optimus walking through the base with his data pad in his servo.

He turns the corner to hear laughter coming out of one of the rooms.

He peaks in to see Buddy and his two Wreckers playing, having a great time.

He manages to catch Buddy smiling.

A smile he hadn’t seen in a long, long time.

He turns and continues his walk.

Optimus and Ratchet obviously trusted Buddy right off the bat.

They knew their niece well.

But that didn’t shake the memory of Soundwave telling them that Megatron had laid his servo on Buddy.

Ratchet was absolutely fuming with anger.

How dare a father even consider doing such a horrendous act to their own sparkling!?

Optimus really wanted to fight Megatron.

He almost felt the same way as he did when Raf had gotten exposed to the dark energon.

In a way they both feel like they had failed.

What if scenarios popped up more with Buddy around.

The duo did their best to get Buddy to open up about her time on the Nemesis.

So far it had been snippets here and there, nothing major, but it was something.

Optimus, Ratchet, and Buddy looking at some coding in the empty base.

Buddy stops for a second.

“Buddy? You found something important?”--Ratchet

“It’s just…when fath—when Megatron left to space for those years on Earth, I was put in charge of the Decepticon army.”--Buddy

Ratchet’s optics widen a bit.

Optimus is not too surprised by this news.

“I—I tried to get in contact with you… I wanted to negotiate peace between our two factions, for good.”--Buddy

Optimus optics widen now.

“I—I figured it could be the one good thing I could do on the forsaken ship… I should have tried harder to—”--Buddy

Optimus hugs Buddy close.

Buddy’s optics become blurry with tears.

“Oh…oh Buddy…”--Ratchet

Ratchet rubs circles on Buddy’s back as she racks a sob on Optimus’s chassis.

The Prime holds her close to his spark, wishing he could take away her pain so badly.

They knew they needed to talk more about this to Buddy, but they never seemed to find the right time.

Until the truth revealed its ugly head.

Miko was on Buddy’s shoulder trying to show her a new photo that she took not too long ago.

Buddy didn’t notice Bulkhead behind them.

He wanted to get Miko to go help her with her guitar lessons.

The only things Buddy recognized was a dark shadow and a fast-moving servo.

It was too quick.

Buddy soon found herself cradling Miko close to her chassis with her back towards the offender.

She waited for the blow.

She felt sick when she didn’t feel the blow.

Maybe it was because the only thing Buddy could feel and hear where the loud hums of her spark going haywire.

She didn’t notice Miko furiously hitting her armor trying to snap her out of it.

She didn’t notice the sudden crowd around.

She did notice someone trying to take Miko away.

She tightens her grip on the human but making sure not to hurt her. That was the last thing she ever wanted to do.

It took a minute to try and get Buddy to calm down.

Buddy felt awful for the sudden panic.

Buddy sitting on the med slab looking at Miko who was in her servos.

“I’m so sorry for that.”--Buddy

“Buddy you’ve already apologized, anyways it’s okay.”--Miko

“No it’s not. That should have… it won’t happen again.”--Buddy

“It was my fault Buddy. Maybe if I hadn’t moved so fast.”—Bulkhead

Buddy looking at Bulkhead’s sorrowful optics.

“No Bulkhead it wasn’t you. You just looked a little like… The shadow reminded me of…”--Buddy

“Megatron?”--Ratchet

Buddy flinches a bit, but nods.

Silence.

Miko patting Buddy’s servo.

“When you came to the base all hurt, that was him wasn’t it.”--Miko

Buddy nods slowly.

“I… I think its about time you guys knew what happened. From the beginning. Optimus? Will you help me in the parts I don’t remember?”--Buddy

Optimus placing a servo on Buddy’s shoulder.

“Of course.”—Optimus

[fleet-of-fiction]

Jake Kiszka // Female Narrator

Part Six

After a blinding light eradicates mankind, you're left in a desolate and empty world. A year of solitude eliminates all belief that anyone else was left behind. Until a chance encounter on the side of the road. Jake is injured and fighting for his life, but his presence brings a renewed sense of hope. Touch starved and lonely, you need him. And undoubtedly, he needs you too.

A/N: This particular chapter includes themes of extremely dark thoughts. Including thoughts of ending life. This is integral for the storyline. Does not reflect the writers personal thoughts or feelings towards triggering potential readers as it is not their intention to do so. So please, proceed with caution, as always. And if you don't wish to read such themes please do not read this chapter.

"It would be the last man on earth that would end up being mine..."

Explicit sexual content Sex (penetrative & oral) /Foreplay /Blood / Injury / Hunting. / Intense emotions / Death.

Day 470 ~ Jake

She looked so peaceful. Her lips were slightly parted and her eyes were rolling around behind closed lids. And even though I wondered what she was dreaming about, I didn't dare wake her. There was just something unsettling about trying to sleep in other people's houses and I had never slept well a single night until I found her.

I saw no reason to wake her just to tell her I was going back to the music room. I figured she would hear me as soon as dawn broke and come looking for me. Now that I'd picked up a guitar again, it was like I was being called to arms. The need to play was a welcome and not a melancholy reminder anymore.

In the early hours of morning it still felt as if the world was asleep. That everyone was still tucked up in their beds, just a few hours away from alarm clocks going off and coffee pots being switched on. It was easy to forget at this time, easy to pretend that we were the only ones left. I sometimes liked to wake up early just to catch that feeling.

It was still dark outside as I set myself up on one of the amps. I turned the volume right down and closed the door. Strumming a few notes but not playing anything in particular. I couldn't set myself to something I'd already played, and was still figuring out how to create something now on my own. It still felt strange not having Josh stood there telling me it needed to be a little faster or slower. Or Sam picking which one of us he was going to agree with that day, my heart sinking if he'd chosen Josh. Our mediator sitting behind his drums diligently tapping away if the conversation got a little too heated. I hadn't really given much thought to how much I missed Danny. But now that I was staring at the old drum kit by the window, I realised that I did miss him.

I wasn't really paying attention to the window behind. Or the pair of eyes watching me. My mind was stepping back in time, trying to think of old riffs that I'd abandoned. It wasn't until they moved that I almost dropped the guitar straight onto my foot. Something I'd never done before.

"Holy shit!!!" I cursed, reeling back as the eyes reflected in the light from inside the house.

I couldn't see much, other than a pair of roving circles peering in. I could feel my breath catch in my chest, panic begin to rise. I knew it wasn't human by the way it moved, only a foot or so off the ground and far too prowl- like to belong to any man or woman.

"What the fuck are you?" I wondered aloud, slowly inching towards the glass as if it could somehow reach me through it.

My heart was pumping blood so quickly around my body that I dizzied as I stood. Terrified that whatever it was could somehow get inside and get to Amelia before I could. As I drew closer I could hear the sound of a pitiful whine over the roar of the breeze. And although it was dark, and the reflection of the room was all I could see, the sound reminded me of something I'd heard before.

"Are you hurt?" I asked, switching off the lamp so that I could better see through the dark, the eyes which watched me immediately fading into the morning pitch black.

How many times had I been foolish in my life? When I thought about it, I could raise a nostalgic smile at the boy who had gone into dive bars before he was old enough to drink in them and played guitar while fights broke out around him. And I could consider all the times I'd cliff jumped into abandoned quarries and somehow crawled back out with my life intact. All the times I'd made myself look stupid in front of girls I liked. Done something or said something to make them think I was an idiot. Or not said something at all, the most foolish thing I could do.

Perhaps none of it was quite as thoughtless as what I did that morning. I checked on Amelia before I grabbed my jacket and went outside. She was still right where I left her, unmoved. I had thought that I might take a walk around the perimeter of the house. See if the creature was still out there.

I didn't think what would happen, could happen. Of all the risks I'd taken in my life, I never envisioned that I'd end up where I did. It was still a little cold as I buttoned up. I could see my breath as the light began to creep in from behind clouds. The wind was enough to move my hair, but moved only gently through the tree's above. A soft white noise soundtracked my steps as I traversed around the heavy woodland surrounding the house.

Until I found myself at the back yard. Staring at the window to the room where I'd just been playing guitar. Not a soul in sight.

"I'll be damned." I whispered to myself, certain that I'd find something.

I knew that what I'd seen I couldn't have imagined. I'd tripped so many times before, I knew the difference between what was real and imagined. I started moving towards the glass, watching my own reflection approach until I could clearly see the guitar right where I had almost dropped it onto my foot.

Dumbfounded. A little spooked, even. I could feel the hairs on my forearms prickle.

"I know there's something out here." I told myself.

Almost as if I was inviting it, I could feel something at my back. I slowly turned. Fear and foolishness gripping me by the throat. I backed up against the window pane. Not one set of eyes, but several stepped out from behind the trees. And I knew I was cornered.

"Clever." I remarked under my breath. "You weren't hurt at all, were you?"

I wondered if they smelled my fear. If they could hear the rush of blood through my veins as my heart pumped faster. There was nowhere for me to run. I scanned across every possible route and all of them were guarded closely by snarling teeth and renegade desires to feed.

If this was how I met my end all I could think of was Amelia. Sleeping soundly, lost in dreams only to wake to find that I was no longer there. I could feel the raging heart in my chest break as I imagined her finding them gnawing away at my corpse. Terrified that I wouldn't be enough to fill their bellies, and that they'd lure her out to die too.

Once they'd been loyal pets. Wearing collars and leashes. They would come when their masters called and chase balls when they were thrown. Settle in front of warm fireplaces and have their bellies rubbed if they rolled over. I could see it in their eyes. The pack mentality that had been suppressed for generations, the wolves in their blood howling to return to their most basic of natures. They were evolving. Growing tactful in their hunt. Luring out their prey under false pretences.

"Easy, now." I said, holding flat palms in front of me, wondering if they would respond to hearing commands they might have forgotten. "Good dogs. Sit...Stay..."

The dog that had appeared to me first cocked his head to the side a little. He was a big, imposing Shepherd breed. With a long nose and a set of sharp teeth on display. His hair was all matted underneath, an old wound still healing on his front leg. None of the dogs sat at my command. I had no control.

"No!" I warned bluntly, "There's a good boy now, Sit!"

It was as if they knew the words but couldn't recall what they meant. Standing in a semi-circle against me. I could see the smaller dogs behind, a counter-pack of terriers and spaniels. It was as if they knew the bigger dogs would have the most impact and had chosen their place in the flanks. To my left was a jet black Dobermann, clipped ears pinned back as it waited for instruction. To my right was a blue eyed Husky with the fairest white mane. Beautiful, if it weren't threatening to tear me limb from limb. And directly in front was my adversary. The Shepherd.

"I know you're hungry." I reasoned, some irrational part of my brain convinced somehow that they would understand. "I can help you, we can find food together. Just don't hurt me."

I wondered why they hesitated. If their hunger was so absolute why didn't they attack on sight? What were they waiting for? They knew I couldn't run. Were they enjoying this? Taking delight in their hunt? What could have possibly made them approach like this, without taking me down in one mass attack?

"Oh my god."

I felt my stomach turn as the penny dropped. I had been lured out there. I was just a pawn in their attempts to lure more food out. There wasn't enough meat on my bones to feed them all. And they knew that.

"You can't have her." I promised, "So, you're just going to have to feast on me."

I'd barely considered what had happened to the dogs that were left behind. I'd crossed paths with a few of them during my time on the road. Some of them would regard me, but rarely approach. Lost in their own wondering of where their beloved people had gone. Some would approach me cautiously, in the endless pursuit of food. But not like this. This was calculated. Organised.

"Jake?!"

Her voice called out from the distance. I could see their ears turn. Saliva dripping from their jowls.

"Please, Jake!!!" She screamed, tortured by my unexplained absence.

Every instinct in me had to fight not to call back. Her begging cries called out to me like a beacon alighted on the mountainside. It was my duty to respond, to let her know that I was still here.

"You keep your eyes on me, you hear?"

I'd never wanted anything more than to see her turn that corner and know that I would never willingly choose to leave her. But if she did, she courted death. Did I want her to live in a world without me? Better to have thought I had vanished than died.

Somehow I found the courage to run. And to my utter horror and relief, they followed.

Day 473 ~ Amelia

I could hear the bird song in the morning light. Another day to exist in a place where once he had. It didn't feel like it had the first time, when everyone else had disappeared. This was more crucifying than anything I could have ever endured before. This wasn't just figuring out how to live on my own, this was figuring out how to do it knowing that I had loved someone else so deeply I wanted only to die.

I walked back to the cabin without him. The acoustic guitar he had played Broken Bells on for me tucked beneath my arm as I made the journey alone. What had begun as such a wholesome idea, ended with me losing him. And I regretted the choice to take him up to that forsaken house. Never had I regretted anything more.

I looked at the spaces where once he'd dwelled. Felt his presence like a ghost that haunted me. Echoes of his voice calling out on the wind, keeping me from sleep in the night and my mind elsewhere during the day. I was keeping the animals fed, but barely functioning. And on the third day without him, I began to consider that I did not want this life.

Day 475 ~ Amelia

The rot had set in. The chickens clucked in their coop. The horses whined in their stables. And I laid in the same sheets that still carried his scent as I stared out of the window. Watching clouds pass over the canopy of trees. Wishing that I could just float away. There was no meaning to any of it anymore. I longed for that same end which had come to everyone, save me.

With Jake, it had been easy to forget that I'd been forsaken. Forgotten. Left behind, or spared. Whichever was the truth, none of it mattered whilst I had him by my side. It was him and it was me, this was ours. A solitary place for us to live out our days until we were old and had forgotten that once we'd live in a world where other people had.

I couldn't do this without him. And so I kept myself wrapped in bed sheets where he'd made love to me before and the fabric still carried the memory of his body. If only me and this bed sheet remembered him it meant that once he'd been real. And I could die knowing that wherever he was, perhaps I'd reach him in death.

Day 477 ~ Amelia

I kicked the corpse of the chicken I had starved to death. Moving it's lifeless body with the edge of my foot as I threw down some feed for the ones who had made it through my grief. I had long since brushed my hair or my teeth. The heavy weight of losing Jake mirrored in the depth of the dark circles beneath my eyes, my pallor was grey. I had not eaten in days and the thought of plucking the dead chicken for meat turned my stomach, so I threw it out into the woods and hoped some creature would find it a tasty meal.

I wasn't living. And the concept of no longer being here began to feel like a gift that I would be giving myself. I didn't want any of this anymore without Jake. Where once there'd been hope that I could do this alone, in it's place was just memories of him that hurt so badly I could scarcely go a day without clutching my belly and falling to my knees. Wailing into the ether where none could hear me.

This wasn't life. It was purgatory. Just a gateway between life and death. My heart was still inexplicably beating. But without purpose. And I was tired of it. For seven days I had tried and failed to carry on without him and for seven days I had carried a strength I could no longer bear. If I was weak, then I'd walk into that weakness willingly and with the knowledge that I had tried. And the only hope that I had left was that which told me that Jake waited for me on the other side.

The version of him that I had imagined was all that I had left. I had loved him so much that I had known that losing him would completely eradicate all my desire to live. There was no amount of time that I could have had with him that would have ever been enough. And the moments which we had shared now felt like only one or two stitches on what could have been a rich tapestry. If I didn't live, there would be nobody left to remember him. But if I lived, I would remember him. And that in itself was the most cruel of fates.

Day 478 ~ Amelia

Today. I had considered it enough. Today was going to be my final day on earth. And although the manner within which I would unravel from my mortal coil had not been determined, I knew that by the time the sun began to set that I'd be set within my death.

I woke early. There were signs of spring in the air as I showered and dressed. The air a little warmer. The sun rising a little earlier. And I finally brushed my hair and teeth. Making sure that I went to my end with a little dignity. I tended to the animals and although I wasn't quite sure why, knowing their end would be as bitter as mine, it felt good to be doing something useful again.

I ate a small breakfast of scrambled eggs and drank a cup of hot coffee. I took a blanket out onto the porch swing and read a few chapters of a book that I'd neglected. All things which I would have done on any other uneventful day. And as I looked up from my pages, I tried to imagine Jake chopping wood on the block opposite the porch.

His wide swing circling back, the axe in both hands. His hair blowing in the breeze, and a look of absolute satisfaction on his lips as the axe blew the wood apart. The back of his hand rested against his forehead as he began to sweat, even though the temperatures outside were far too cool.

I stared into the brush, the green and the brown and the bark of the tree's all lining up to create the forest floor beyond. Listening to the soft bird call and wind through the leaves. I put my book down and decided to just sit there a while and take it all in while I could.

Everything was perfectly still. As if it had paused itself in the wake of my decision to leave it all behind. I almost felt as if I couldn't have picked a more perfect day. I was calm, perhaps too calm.

"I really wish you were here." I said, my eyes roving around the beauty of the forest for one last time.

That was when I saw it. Emerging from beyond what my eye could see. I squinted into it. Not certain at first, convinced that I was imagining it. I slid off the porch swing and advanced down the steps. Something moved between the tree's. Something that wasn't swaying in the breeze or part of the natural order of things. It was dark at first, just a spectre that I couldn't clearly define.

"Jake?!" I said his name before I even knew that it was him.

His name on the breeze called to him. He moved more swiftly, moving aside the shrubbery with his bare hands as he began to run. And I, too, began to run on bare feet into the woods.

"Jake!!!" I screamed it, aching to reach him before I would be torn from this sweetest of dreams.

I purged myself of the love I had for him. Roaring in sobs that came to me unbound as I reached him in a small clearing just beyond the cabin boundary. Over those biting sobs, there was no sound. I buried my face into the curve of his hollow neck. Whatever had been locked inside me, spilling out against his flesh. I cried without thought or regard. I had no control over it, the days of struggle all seemed to converge until I cried hopelessly and fiercely into him.

He clutched me tightly. Refusing to let him see my face, I forced myself to stay against his chest. This dream I would not wake from. If I looked into his eyes I would know it wasn't real and I was not ready to give it up. I would let him hold me for as long as I could hold on to him. And I would cherish the sweetness of such a vivid untruth. It was all but a dream, just a dream...

"Amelia..." He uttered.

"No..." I hushed. "Don't speak, don't wake me."

Birds stirred in the distance. Somewhere the breeze picked up, and I could hear the slither of it through leaves that had fallen onto the ground. Picking them up in a vain attempt to return them to the air.

"Amelia, my love...open your eyes." He urged, that familiar touch of his hand coming to rest on my cheek.

I had cried enough. There were no tears left. But when I opened my eyes, they continued regardless. Not sobs of grief, but quiet droplets of something which I had no name for.

"Jake." I repeated in whisper, although he wasn't the Jake of my memory.

He was changed. The hair which used to flow down over his beautiful face had been chopped just above his shoulders. Rough stubble pebbled his upper lip and chin. But the eyes which bore down into me were the same. I would have known those eyes even if he had changed beyond all recognition. His arms felt the same, too. A mixture of desire and urgency and restraint. And for one still moment I took in the sight of him, before venomous anger took over.

I struck him once. Cold and hard across his jawline. He turned his face away but did not buckle with the blow. I had probably not struck him hard enough, or perhaps he had been expecting it. He didn't release me, and I was glad. And when he turned back, his face had not changed. As if he'd felt nothing. Or perhaps, he'd felt worse and this was nothing in comparison.

"I deserved that." He breathed, the sound of his voice filling me such relief I almost died right there just as I had planned to.

If I had known in that moment what it was within his mind, perhaps I would have prepared myself better. As much as anyone can be prepared for a kiss that they never thought they would have again.

He clasped me harder, his hands crushing my arms as he pulled me into him. He turned his head slightly, too swiftly for me to consider it. As if he had never been in any doubt that this would be how we would reunite. He brushed his lips against mine. Softly at first, those eyes probing me for the briefest moment for permission of sorts. And then he kissed me harder, deeper and with fierce conviction. Whatever small part I had in this kiss, I knew it was my place to submit to it. He pushed his body against mine, his mouth opening and showing me that nothing else mattered.

I fought against his tongue. Wanting it so badly, but too full of wondering to let him have too much of it. I let him have a moment of it. And not a second more.

"Jake, please..." I pulled back, holding his face between my palms as I studied the sunken cheekbones beneath his dark eyes. "You've been gone for eight days."

"I know." He replied, "And for eight days I've been trying to get back to you."

I didn't understand, couldn't fathom what he had been through. Somehow it was etched there in his emaciated face. A struggle I would never be able to share the depth of with him. And he, in return, would never be able to follow me into mine.

"I don't understand." I muttered, turning his face this way and that to try and see a hint of what it had cost him to return to me. "I thought you had....vanished."

"You think that I would choose to leave you?" He simpered, taking another kiss as we began to rise. "That's not a choice I ever thought I'd have to make. But I did. And I would do it again a thousand times to keep you safe."

There would be time enough for explanations. He was weary. Dishevelled and somehow traumatised. And so I silently led him back to the cabin, my arm around his waist. The outline of his ribs against my hand. And any thought of my own death somehow completely gone from me.

Day 479 ~ Jake

She was a sight for sore eyes. Resting her little head on my chest. Hair fanned out across my arm, the scent of it like pine and moss. I was showered and she'd made food for me. Silently eating it as she sat beside me at the kitchen table, stroking my hair and looking at me as if she'd never seen anything more precious to her.

No sooner had I pushed my empty plate aside, she'd taken my hand and told me to get in bed. And I'd insisted that she crawl in beside me. Folding herself up into my side like she'd always belonged there. And for the first time in eight days I felt rested.

"You haven't asked me what happened out there." I mentioned, resting my cheek against her crown.

"You'll tell me when you're ready." She replied, sighing deeply as she swept her fingertips across my stomach.

I could see a madness in her that hadn't been there before. I tried to imagine what it had been like for her, but my thoughts always fell short. She was quiet. I kept catching her gazing at me as if she couldn't quite believe that I was there. She'd even sat with me as I showered, handing me the soap and watching the dirt slide off my back.

"You wouldn't believe me, even if I did tell you." I surmised, running my hand down her spine, feeling her body shift as she turned to look at me.

"Try me." She answered, calm and collected, as if we were talking about a T.V show we'd watched. "I've considered everything. Driven myself mad with it."

"I know." I replied softly, "You didn't deserve that. But what's happening out there... it's unlike anything that we could have been prepared for."

Her interest piqued, she raised herself up onto an elbow and furrowed her brow.

"What do you mean? Out there?" She said, "How far did you go?"

I didn't have a distance that I could tell her in numbers. Only that I'd gone beyond where my scent could be traced back. Days and nights of running, being hunted. The pack were smart. Even when I'd climbed tree's to avoid their eye line, they'd lingered on the forest floor picking up the scent of me and waiting for me to make my next move.

I knew that if I went back to the cabin they'd follow me there. I had to get them far enough away and lose them so that I could circle back without bringing them with me. On the fourth day I lost them, their senses distracted, and it had taken another four days to get back.

"We need to secure the perimeters of the cabin. Make sure the livestock is safe. That nothing can get in." I told her, my voice unintentionally rising to panic.

"Why?!" She asked, "What happened, Jake? You're scaring me."

There would be time enough to tell her. That the creatures we'd once held so dear had gone back to their most basic bloodlines. That the wild animals were welcoming their domestic kin back into the fold. That the wolves had descended, but not as we remembered them. They were just regular dogs. Like the one my brother had loved and kept. Her name was Rose and she had slept on my bunk in the tour bus, sniffling in my guitar cases for treats. The softest, most loving creature I had ever known. And I just couldn't picture her a snarling, starving mess with dripping fangs and a taste for blood.

But somehow I knew she was out there, trying to survive if she hadn't already died.

"I'll tell you, baby." I promised, pulling her back onto my chest, not certain I could look her in the eye as I spoke.

All I wanted to do was hold her. Remind myself why I'd risked everything. She listened to me and hummed in agreeance to everything I said. Gasping in disbelief at my tale of pursuit. She would circle her fingers over my navel as she listened, drawing little intakes of breath from me as I tried to paint her a vivid picture until I had to give in to her.

No more talking. No more desperately trying to cling on to the fact that I'd made it back home to her. What was any of it for if not for the sweetness of her body? Her kiss? I wanted to reunite with her in the only way that I could. Pushing her onto her back, striking my thumb across her cheek as I swept her hair away from her face.

"Why'd you chop your beautiful hair off, Jake?" She asked, picking up a tendril of what used to sit on my collar bone.

"That's how I managed to fool them." I replied, nodding into a smiling kiss. "I cut my hair and scattered it for them to confuse my scent. Once they were distracted, I managed to put a few miles between us."

The way she looked at me made my heart rush. Every empty space without her filled with a warmth that felt like home. She looked at me as if I held the world in my hands for her. I was the one who made it turn.

"Don't you ever disappear on me like that again, Jacob."

She meant it. Stoic and steadfast, she didn't miss a beat.

"No Ma'am." I replied, sinking into a kiss that made my cock start to awaken to the possibility of that proper reunion.

She wasted no time. Climbing on top of me, letting her hair fall. Her perfect breasts pushed up against my chest as she kissed me. Blood pumped harder in my veins. My body somehow awakening the strength to wrap my arms around her and spin her onto her back. She squealed with joy. Her laughter filling my senses like music I'd never heard before.

And I forgot everything that had happened before that sweet moment.

Day 479 ~ Amelia

My man. My quick thinking silent protector. He was mine. And as he laid me down beneath him I'd never felt more safe. The scent of his freshly washed body, the lines of bones that now protruded signalled his struggle and I held them close to me as he parted my legs.

The nightmares we'd had could wait. I welcomed him between my thighs and let him push his hard cock into my desperately wet pussy that had pined for him just as much as my heart had. Soon he was writhing above me, panting for breath and sealing his lips to my nipples as he thrusted against me. And I forgot that I'd wanted to die. The invisible thread which kept me tethered to this life had returned to me. And I could never tell him what I'd intended to do.

"Fuck, I missed you...I missed this." He breathed the words against my chest, sliding his tongue across the valley of my breasts.

There was nothing more erotic than the sweet reunion of lovers who had never known that they would ever meet again. In the world we'd once lived in, a call or a text would have eased our worried minds. But without so much as a letter to be delivered, I'd lived in a state of unknowing. It felt almost unreal to have him bared to me, making love to me in a bed he'd been wholly absent from.

I couldn’t get enough of him. I was tired and sore but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted the ache. I wanted him in me, all the time. His weight on top of me. I wanted to squeeze him in further and further. I wanted to watch his face. I wanted his sweat to drop onto me. I wanted to drop mine on him. To feel the bitterness that had kept us apart dissipate in the feral moans that rang out from that bedroom of ours.

"Never again Jake..." I made him swear. "Don't you ever leave me again... Don't leave me alone in this world."

He was breathless and covered in sweat. His and mine. Pussy juice and the cum which had leaked from his tip smeared across our bodies. The gentle rhythm of our love making turning into fierce sex that would bring us to completion.

The depth of his despair was in the way he looked at me then. He took my hair in his fist, holding me still. My legs spread wide for him, his hips grinding into me as if he couldn't bear it.

"I'll die before I ever leave you alone, my love." He whispered solemnly, pressing his mouth against my ear.

"Now hush." He ordered, "And take what I have to give you..."

I could only submit to the violent way he fucked me. Screaming his name into the night. And somewhere in the distance, under the light of the full moon, a wolf howled into the wind...

To be Continued...

.

.

.

@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon y @char289 @dancingcarbon @gvfpal @violetstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @jazzyfigz @gvfmarge @ignite-my-fire

[t1bb1zoey]

Okay, I have screamed, squealed, hyperventilated, and smiled like a dork over this all damn day (I am by no means exaggerating).

Let's analyze this tasty ass chapter Old Xian, the fuckin legend he is, gave us on this holy day 🙌 😍

FIRST OF ALL

Bruh, they were MAKING OUT. You can even see in the other panels, Mo's lips are red and kind of puffy, so it makes you wonder how long they were going for before we popped back in again (I'm seriously going to try not to squeal all the way through writing this). The last chapter people were confused on whether it was a kiss on the lips or not. I still hold firm that it was.

NOW, LET'S LOOK AT THAT DANG KISS:

I think something very important happened here, aside from the actual physical kiss. Mo was able to, in the best way he could, articulate that he has feelings for He Tian, and He Tian also articulated in his way that he does not want to dominate or control Mo, like maybe he had in the past.

In the last chapter, He Tian knelt a little so he was not looming over Mo. I think this is important and was the first step in what He Tian was trying to do here in this interaction. Kneeling to someone's eye level means you are putting yourself on equal levels. You are taking this person seriously and you are doing your best not to be threatening or overbearing in any way.

After the first kiss that went wrong, He Tian has been controlling himself like crazy. He's still devilish at times, but flicking Mo's butt or kissing him on the cheek is not as aggressive as other things he did in the past (groping, shoving his tongue down Mo's throat, dragging an unwilling Mo places). He's backed off, and he backed off even more after learning that Mo's anxiety stems from She Li attacking, controlling, and dominating him. He Tian also learned that Mo's financial situation is no small thing and he has gained perspective into Mo's life and needs. In other words, He Tian has matured and has worked on himself so he could be someone Mo would love.

So, of course Mo loves him back now and kisses him. We pick up with both of them processing that kiss here:

So, remember, Mo knew that he was dragging He Tian to his room because he was overwhelmed with feelings and wanted to kiss him finally, but He Tian had NO IDEA what was happening until he was standing in front of Mo, so he's processing this as much as Mo is. And the way they process is so different.

I love that Mo begins trying to explain himself, but also cannot bring himself to say that he loves He Tian directly (yes LOVE, not like). He says that his mom also doesn't dislike him, the most roundabout way he could say "I like you" (but we all know he LOVES him, right?). And he continues to talk really fast and look away from He Tian, because I think for whatever reason, he's scared to see how He Tian is reacting (because Mo is insecure) and also simply because he's embarassed of course.

And how is He Tian reacting? In that panel where Mo is just word-vomiting at him, he's studying Mo. His face is calm, like he's trying to get a read on what Mo's motivations for kissing him are. He's also reluctant to let Mo go. He even continues to hold his hand when Mo goes to take the ear piercing kit from the drawer.

I think He Tian is probably feeling a combination of "Does he think this is what he has to do to repay me?" and also a bit of "please let this be real". So he makes Mo look at him, because the ear piercing kit probably sent some worry through him. He knows Mo has been preyed upon by She Li before, so He Tian is making sure Mo knows he's not the same as She Li. Remember, this was He Tian a couple hours, terrified Mo was going to reject him for being the same as She Li, and a few minutes ago, replaying what he did and feeling like he's bought into his father's violent world:

He's still carrying that with him here, the terror that Mo saw what he did and the inner-conflict about being a part of She Li and his father's dark world. In this moment, he doesn't want Mo to think he's another violent person who Mo needs to serve or placate. He explicitly says to Mo: "You're the one who saved me."

AND WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?

It could be literal, when Mo came up behind She Li and whacked him in the head to get him off He Tian.

OR, it very likely means Mo made He Tian change for the better. He's not the same guy who forced a kiss on Mo, or who tried to control him, or who threw money at him to get Mo to do what he wanted. He's changed into someone who wants to work hard, who wants to protect goodness, who wants to be gentle and kind like Mo is. Mo did save him. He can be someone different from his father, his brother, and She Li if Mo is there to remind him how to be.

So he reminds Mo of this because he wants Mo to know that he owes He Tian nothing. He doesn't have to pierce his ear for him to show that He Tian has any sort of ownership or dominance or anything. I think He Tian missed the fact that Mo is having a rough time, even now, being direct.

For Mo, he's trying to remind He Tian of this

He's trying to say, indirectly, you can help me do this because, yes, I do like you back. But He Tian's caught up in making sure Mo's not feeling any obligation to him just because he took care of She Li. AND ISN'T THAT BOTH SO CUTE AND HILARIOUS?! 🤣

Mo's out here doing his best to let He Tian know he's ready to admit his feelings now, and He Tian's so worried for Mo that he needs to know FOR SURE this is something Mo actually wants. He has to see his face and he has to have some form of explicit confirmation before he can let himself accept what's happening. He could have just gone in for another kiss on his own, but he wouldn't do it. For He Tian, he does not want to "disgust" Mo ever again. It's full consent or nothing. So, after making it clear that Mo owes him nothing, he asks him outright, "tell me what you want".

And poor Mo's still having a hard time. He can't say the words quite yet, and that's okay. For Mo, I think actually asking for something he truly wants is quite difficult, because nothing goes well for him. Wanting anything is a dangerous game for him, so even just saying it out loud is like a jinx for him, like the universe will hear and He Tian will be taken away (and we do know he will be and I don't know how Mo's going to handle that). So he just points. It's the best he can do. He Tian's just gonna have to accept that.

And the SECOND he gets the confirmation he needed, He Tian kisses Mo again. IMAGINE WHAT THAT WOULD FEEL LIKE?! The person you've been blood-sweat-and-tears-ing for tells you they want you back??! He Tian's ear blushes in that panel where Mo points to him, because NOW it hits him that yes, this is real. The boy of his dreams actually wants him back!

And it's the gentlest kiss ever. It's so sweet and heartfelt. I'm really proud of He Tian's and Mo's character development. I would say He Tian has evolved more than Mo, just because we see that he's learned his lesson here fully and Mo is still fighting to voice his wants, but man both characters have come so far.

And He Tian says he'll give Mo anything. Anything. Mo's out here trying to give He Tian things (literal soup, a place to stay, piercing his ear), and He Tian turns around and says NO, YOU OWE ME NOTHING AND I WILL GIVE YOU ANYTHING. He Tian was going to straight up murder She Li for Mo. He was going to KILL someone.

I saw someone on here say that in the English language, we have no equivalent to what He Tian said here. He basically told Mo anything he was, is, and ever will be, anything he can get his hands on for Mo, anything he can do for Mo, for all time, forever and ever, is Mo's. He exists for Mo now.

LIKE???

I'M SORRY, WHAT???

Guys, they are married. All these rings and earrings and shit. Like, this is the vow that accompanies them.

I just ... I can't?

Wonderful and BRAVE chapter from Old Xian. I will NEVER get over it.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

It's Complicated

may i humbly request logan being scary? any au you like (mob, highschool, fantasy) i just want to see logan intimidating/beating the crap out of someone and the other sides being half terrified half amazed love your writing so much thank you for all the food :3 – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: amnesia, concussion warnings, misunderstandings

Pairings: logince, can be platonic or romantic, you decide

Word Count: 2533

Officially, the villain known as The Mastermind has been missing for months. No one knows what's happened and, officially, no one's really worried about it. Coincidentally, this is around the time where Roman, otherwise known as the Prince, took in his roommate, Logan. Logan doesn't remember his less than savory actions, and Roman's not exactly keen on reminding him. Not when Logan is a sweet, somewhat oblivious roommate who is far more concerned about making sure they have coffee than programming death rays or terrifying squads of innocent civilians. At least until some harmless muggers try to accost them in an alleyway and Logan...well. Remembers.

Roman swallows, hand pressed against the rough gravel of the alleyway where he'd stumbled as the fight got worse. Around them lay the broken and groaning bodies of their would-be attackers, the last one falling with a muffled thud.

In front of him, Logan turns. No, the villain Logan used to be turns around.

Roman swallows again. "You remember."

"Mm."

His voice sounded how Roman remembers it again. His walk, his posture, even his expression as he looks at Roman.

The villain is back.

Had it all been a performance? A plot to get Roman to let his guard down? No, there were things that couldn't have been fake in those months, Logan…Logan really had lost his memories.

…memories that were back now.

Are…are they supposed to fight now? He's not nearly in good enough shape to do that right now. and even if he was, even though it's clear that Logan—the villain is back, he can't help seeing the person who he's been living with for the past…god, he can't believe it.

"You know," Logan says suddenly, "it's funny. I spent a lot of time thinking you didn't know who I was, that that's why you took me in, treated me kindly."

Roman tries to suppress a flinch as he steps closer.

"But now," he continues as he crouches in front of him, "I find out that you knew, from the start, and you did all that anyway."

He tilts his head.

"You keep surprising me."

It's the callback to a conversation that happened an eternity ago that jolts Roman into action. He begins to pull himself up off the ground as sirens start in the distance.

Logan offers him a hand. After a moment, he takes it, pulling himself up slowly.

"Thanks," he mumbles, before looking and seeing a bloom of red on Logan's shoulder. "You've been hurt."

"Hm?" Logan glances down at his shoulder. "Oh. So I have. It's just a scratch."

"That is not just a scratch," Roman says, frowning at it as he starts to push the fabric out of the way, "you need stitches. Come on, let's go h—"

The words catch on the tip of his tongue. He swallows.

"Let's go get you patched up."

"We can go home too," Logan says softly, watching him with a strange expression.

Roman just nods and turns, heading away from the sirens. He glances down and sees Logan's shadow following him. As they traverse the alleys and make to the main road, he finds himself doing the things to protect Logan on instinct. Holding his arm out to hold him back, reaching out to steady him as they cross a bridge, even taking his hand so they wouldn't get separated in a large crowd.

Each time he does, he scolds himself and shoves the offending hand in his pocket. He clenches his fist to keep from reaching out and grits his teeth to keep quiet.

Logan doesn't say a word.

When they get back to Roman's apartment, he opens the door to the closet and sets the first-aid kit on the table.

"Leaving so soon," Logan asks as he goes to the bedroom, "am I supposed to do it myself this time?"

Part of Roman wants to say yes, the villain is more than capable of stitching himself up, that he's lucky Roman even let him back in here, just do it and get out.

But the rest of Roman is moving to the table and picking up the kit without further protest.

"You're quiet," he says as he shrugs out of his jacket, "you were so chatty this morning."

Roman hums noncommittally.

"Did something happen?"

Roman glares at him.

"Alright, alright, joke in bad taste, I understand." Logan keeps watching him. "…still, I've never known you to be this…quiet."

"What do you want me to say?"

Logan chuckles. "Maybe 'thank you' for saving me?"

"Thank you for saving me."

"Alright, well, if you're just going to repeat whatever I say—" Roman starts to stand up— "wait, wait, alright, I'm done."

Roman pauses. Logan gestures awkwardly to his now-stitched shoulder.

"Thank you, for helping me with this."

Roman nods and starts packing up the first-aid kit. Logan watches him start to put it away before calling out.

"So what happens now?"

Roman pauses, looking over his shoulder. Logan shifts in the chair, one leg crossed over the other, and even that subtle reminder that he's back with all his stupid body language tells and looks exactly the way he always did in those fucking interrogation rooms—

He pulls himself back.

"…would you like me to leave?"

"Do you want to leave?"

"I asked you first."

Maybe Logan hasn't gotten all of his memories back. He's never seen him look so…unsure. Only when he starts to shift more noticeably does Roman realize he's frowning at Logan.

"Sorry," he mumbles as he goes to put the first-aid kit back. He hears Logan shifting in the chair behind him. "Figured you'd want to go…I dunno, get back to work. You've been away for a while."

"Mm. And not one person came to look for me."

Roman stills, eye catching a scar on his hand. "They did."

"What?"

"They did come to look for you," he says again as he shuts the closet door, "several times."

He can feel Logan's eyes boring into his back. "And you…"

"Kept them off your scent." He moves toward the kitchen—do something normal, do something normal— "didn't sound like they wanted to ensure a safe recovery."

The apartment is quiet as Roman fills the kettle. On the street below, a car honks.

"Why did you take me in," Logan asks suddenly, "and don't give me that 'out of the goodness of my heart' nonsense."

Roman doesn't reply.

"You could've turned me over to the cope, the other heroes, anyone," he presses, "I wouldn't have stopped you. Why didn't you?"

"You didn't remember."

"Obviously, I didn't remember, so—"

"The evidence would've been enough to convict you but you weren't of sound mind and couldn't testify." He turned to grab a coffee mug. "Any decent attorney would've pleaded it at court and you would've gotten off. The whole point of bringing you to trial would be to get justice for those you've wronged who have no other way of getting you to answer for your crimes."

"So that's what this is about," Logan says, and there's that familiar cold tone, "justice?"

"No."

"What?"

"You asked me why I didn't turn you in." Roman gestures with the mug. "That's why."

"But not why you took me in."

Roman stays quiet. Logan growls in frustration, stalking over to slam his hands down on the counter.

"So that's it? I'm back to being 'the bad guy,' no ifs, ands, or buts about it?" Logan scoffs. "Your moral compass too stubborn now that everything's back to normal?"

Don't let him get under your skin. Don't let him, don't let him—but his armor is gone and Logan knows it.

"How do you think this is for me? I lose my memory and suddenly I'm just supposed to accept this? Do you know how jarring it is for everything you've known and trusted to be snatched away like that?"

"And how do you think it's been for me?" He slams the mug down and whirls around. "You think I've just been having the time of my life having you in my home? Where I'm supposed to be safe?"

Roman's breath shudders out of him as Logan grabs him by the shirt and slams him up against the wall. He winces, pain exploding up his spine. Gasping doesn't help—the wind's been knocked out of him. Tears spring to the corners of his eyes.

Something bites at his neck and his head jerks back. The sharp edge of Logan's knife shoved under his chin, an arm like a band of steel across his chest to keep him still.

This. This is familiar. This should feel better. This should—this should—

He thought he'd be done with being terrified of Logan.

And the bone-weary exhaustion that's been threatening him since the fight just…wins.

The fight goes out of him as he meets Logan's eyes. Even though he can feel the strength as Logan holds him there, even with the threat nudging him under his chin.

Then Logan moves.

His grip loosens abruptly, now almost cradling him against the wall instead of shoving him against it. The weapon leaves as his face takes on a soft, pained look.

It's the first time he's ever seen the villain out of combat.

I don't want to do this, he realizes with terrible certainty, I don't want to hurt you. Not like this. There has to be another way.

Logan's gaze flickers up to Roman's temple, his fingertips ghosting over a bloodied bruise from one of the people that tried to attack them.

"…got you good, huh?" A rueful smile. "Blood all over your pretty face."

"…you think my face is pretty?"

A laugh, huffed in disbelief and a little embarrassment. "Come, now, don't make me say it again."

Roman just swallows. "You, uh, you…have…"

Slowly, cautiously, he lifts his hand to Logan's cheek, brushing away some of the alley's soot.

"Thank you."

"Mhm."

Logan jerks his chin toward the wound. "Shall I return the favor?"

Roman opens his mouth to say something about how Logan didn't normally offer to clean up wounds he causes—indirectly or otherwise—but then again, fights didn't normally end with this sort of thing, either. So what ends up coming out is: "…sure."

Logan nods and pulls away, but the sudden lack of anything holding Roman upright has him back a second later, carefully taking him by the arms.

"Easy," he says quietly, "are you dizzy at all?"

"N-no, just…just stunned."

"Here, come—come sit down."

Logan helps him over to the same chair, all careful concern and soft touches that make Roman's head spin even worse than being shoved against the wall. In the strangest version of deja-vu, he walks over to the closet to retrieve the first-aid kit, setting it on the table and leaning against it. A small wrinkle appears between the furrow of his brows and he sets out a bandage and antiseptic from the plastic case.

A finger tilts his head up as Logan unwraps a wipe. He hisses at the slight sting of it.

"It's not that bad," Logan says softly as he works, "head wounds will always bleed more."

"I know."

Logan carefully cups his chin to hold him steady. "You're sure you don't feel dizzy or anything? Not woozy, nothing?"

"No. Doesn't even hurt that much anymore. I didn't even notice it until you…"

At the reminder, however brief, Logan's mouth tightens into a thin line. "I don't know if that's a good sign or if you pain tolerance has just become so high over the years,"

"…I don't know either."

Logan finishes dabbing at the wound and wraps the wipe up to be disposed. He takes the bandage and applies it with the same precision, smoothing over the edges to ensure there aren't any air bubbles. The whiplash of Logan having his memories back yet still treating him so tenderly after absolutely massacring those goons in the alley—

"Bright light, alright?"

Before Roman can say anything, a flash in front of him makes him flinch away. "I need more warning than that!"

Logan waits for him to recover, placing a hand on the back of his chair to lean closer. The sudden closeness does not help him gather himself, but Logan's still looking at him like that and—and—

"Bright light," he says again, softer, "okay?"

Roman nods and Logan holds up the light again. It appears in the corners of his vision and then moves away.

He's checking my pupils, Roman realizes faintly, he's trying to make sure I don't have a concussion.

The light vanishes and Logan holds up his hand. "Follow my finger."

It's a few more minutes before Logan pronounces him concussion-free.

"…thank you."

Logan hums, still looking at him. After a moment, a disbelieving chuckle rings out in the still room as he runs a finger down Roman's cheek. The contact doesn't quite make him flinch, but it makes him…feel something.

"The more I look," he murmurs, mostly to himself, "the more I see."

He traces a few of the scrapes and scars littering Roman's face.

"You poor thing." He lingers on an old scar. "How young were you when they let you outside?"

"Younger than I should've been, probably." Logan brushes a bit of hair back from his face, still tracing invisible lines across his cheek. The contact makes his head spin. "Not much of a pretty face anymore, am I?"

"I didn't say that."

"You meant it, though."

"No, I didn't. I'll thank you not to put words in my mouth."

"What, you actually think I have a pretty face? Still?"

"I thought I told you not to…" he trails off, a dark look coming to his face. Roman nearly shudders at the familiarity before— "who told you that?"

"What?"

"Who told you that," Logan demands, "who told you that you weren't pretty because of your scars?"

Roman blinks, taken aback by the sudden ferocity in his voice not directed at him, but for him. "Uh—"

Logan suddenly cups his face in his hands, staring at him intently. "Tell me who hurt you."

"What?"

"There are those who are still breathing after hurting you only because I do not know who they are. You will tell me."

"What is happening," Roman nearly whines, hopelessly confused, "I don't—what are you doing?"

His words seem to shock Logan back to himself—well, sort of—it's getting complicated, alright? His face twists, almost in pain, and his grip gentles. His thumbs smooth over Roman's cheeks again, holding his gaze for a long moment.

"You are pretty," he says softly, "no matter what anyone else says."

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

"U-um, I—uh—" Roman feels heat rush to his face— "if this is a joke, it isn't funny."

"Not a joke," Logan murmurs in that damnably soft voice, "I give you my word."

"…thank you."

Logan smiles. Not a manic grin, not a calculated smirk, not a villain smile, just a genuine, soft…smile.

"You're welcome, dear."

Roman swallows. "So…where do we go from here?"

Logan sighs, idly running his fingers through Roman's hair. "I don't know, dear. I don't know. Will you try and turn me in?"

"…probably not."

The corner of his mouth tugs up a little bit higher. "No? Still concerned I won't face the justice for my crimes?"

"Don't make fun." The seriousness saps Logan's humor in an instant. "I don't—I don't know what I'm doing, okay? Don't—"

"Shh," Logan soothes, and isn't that even more of a mind fuck— "it's alright. We can figure it out together."

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl@raven1508



[womgi]

Naruto is weird in many ways. Especially in terms of worldbuilding. speaking as someone who was into fanfiction from the 2000s, there was so much that changed in the elements of Naruto that people writing fanfiction were constantly having to change their frameworks, or have to put the rather ignoble looking tag of "non canon compliant" at some point. I have sat through so many author notes talking about "the manga/anime did this, so as of volume/chapter, my story is officially an AU". And there was a lot of it. And that's not talking about the shitload of retconning that Kishimoto just loves. Story stuck? Retcon. Need to escalate? Retcon. Anything at all? Retcon.

Remember when the Kyuubi was a demon? As in a full blown mythological demon rather than what it ended up as? Fanfiction went all in on playing with mythology. The whole Inari business, the Fox summoning contracts, the constant and surprisingly persistent use of "kit" as the pronoun of choice from inmate to warden...all of that was fairly ubiquitous. And back then naruto fanfics were much more imaginative too. The worst villain was Orochimaru, that terrifying amoral mad scientist who was willing to let the world burn for his immortality. He got nerfed.

Or Naruto's father? We all thought he was some guy named Arashi, because of that one panel with the name Arashi Kazama in the Toad summoning scroll. The Fourth Hokage was called that name for a long time, enough to have tons of fanfiction about it at a time when naruto being the Fourth Hokage's son was just a fan theory.

I will always find the idea that we all "knew" Tobi was Obito long before the official announcement funny.

The early speculation about what the other villages were like were rather interesting as well. I mean, consider what we learn about other villages from a manga release timeline. We hear about kiri through Zabuza and his posse. Kirigakure became this villainous, murderous place. We see Suna through the chuunin exams and they're basically this weak village which get owned. Hell, their Kage gets taken out by a random missing nin and they don't even realize! Grass is represented by a team that basically exists to give Orochimaru fleshsuits to infiltrate the Chunin exams with. Ame, they're assholes - like, Hanzo probably hadn't even been conceptualized as a character yet, so they are at this point one-dimensional assholes who exist to get beaten up by the Konoha troupe. We learn about Kumo through Neji's tragic backstory. And we learn that Kumo is a bunch of backstabbing honorless villains. And this shaped how the fans saw the other villages.

Like take Kumo. By the end, Kumo was basically Ninja USA. Militarized, aggressive, and expansionist. Outside of that they also had a lot of Black people, which is an interesting choice for a japanese ninja universe, if a welcome one. That kumo did not exist when Neji's backstory was being belted out to all and sundry. That was a much later invention when Kishimoto got baked(or whatever he does when he gets writers block). Yet, by the end, they seem to be Kishimoto's go to for ninja awesome. Oh, the other villages have badass characters? Hey, look at Kumo! They have lasers! and the stuff of original ninja Jesus! That do cool shit! and their leader is so badass he cuts off his hand without looking at explosions! Lots of Kumo wank in the fanfiction. Or maybe it's just where my searches led.

Or take Oto, sound village. I remember a time when Sound village being a Konoha copy because of Orochimaru being a Konoha missing nin was a thing. They had the whole village with tower in the middle and everything. Sadly, canon has forever robbed us of the classic scene of Orochimaru drowning under paperwork. Why Kishimoto why?

And remember when Itachi was a terrifying villain instead of a tragic hero? I remember reading fics that made Itachi a terrifying force of nature, a sadistic mofo that made satan look like a putz. And then Kishimoto was like "nah" and everyone was suddenly "I heart Itachi! UwU!" or something.

Akatsuki as a whole has gone through a wild ride. When Itachi showed up, there was so much speculation about what they were gonna use the jinchuuriki for. Tailed beast WMDs were fun reads, if terrifying to imagine. Zetsu was a grass nin. Deidara ended up Naruto's brother in so many fics. So many fics that are now forgotten because Akatsuki got a canon backstory.

It's kind of funny how the further we went along the Naruto timeline, the more restrictive fanfiction became. We all became collectively chained by canon. Plots became more streamlined, and frankly dull. The imagination just disappeared. It felt like every second fic was basically "Naruto has a bloodline" and after some very energetic academy time and wave mission the story disappears into the abyss of dead fanfics. I'm just saying, if fanfics rose up from the grave, kancolle style, because of grudges against their authors, we'd have a shitload of underdeveloped Narutos with all sorts of weird bloodlines.

Hell, until Dreaming of Sunshine came along, Self Inserts were just about done. Imagine that for a second. That the most self indulgent type of fanfiction ever, the one everyone at least imagines writing, was an endangered species! And DoS was one of the more canon restricted fics ever, carefully plotting out canon while having long introspective monologues. It was a wild time.

The crossovers and smut are a different topic entirely. I've not forgotten those, but not really something a random Tumblr post can touch reasonably well.

We have Boruto now, love it or hate it. And personally I hate it, though I don't begrudge those who don't. My personal issues stem from how they did the original characters dirty. In a Doylist sense, I understand why, considering that if the older generation was the terrifyingly competent bunch they had become, then Boruto would by necessity end up as slice of life with chakra. But the way they completely twisted their characterisation was just sad. That scene where those rookie nine jump in like chumps and get stomped in between frames? Who wrote that shit? And why?

And worst of all, Shino has a toaster of all things for a mask!

In the OG naruto series, the older generation then was shown as impressive people of their own. There was respect there. Anyone remember the Allied Moms? The younger generation had come up to the fore because they had grown into splendid shinobi, children who had grown to surpass their parents, not because their parents had become nerfed. Why does Boruto need to make the characters we love incompetent to make the new generation look better? But I digress

Naruto now is a different beast. It's had time to settle in, mature as a series. The sequel has made things different, but the fanfiction still exists online, showing a side of the fandom that saw it evolve. In the forgotten depths of the interweb are splendid stories of the past, prose written by dedicated and talented fans who crafted amazing tales. Who remembers those days? Who remembers those fics? Do we? Do their authors?

I'll still read Naruto fanfiction. It's a good chunk of my life I've invested there. Call it sunk cost fallacy if you must. But some part of me misses a different era, when Naruto was the frontier, and everyday was a new fanfic, a new adventure.

[just-a-silly-little-whumper]

Bleeding Out

Masterpost | Read on Ao3

Nathan is moved to save an injured Hunter.

For @badthingshappenbingo: Bleeding Out.

Contains: Referenced minor character death, minor whump, blood loss, angst, some memory fuckery

~~~

His final sweep of the Hunter hideout should have been simple. Easy. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone left. Nathan was just being thorough.

But of course, of course, it wasn’t that simple. He took one cursory glance into a tiny storage room, then did a double take when he saw a young Hunter collapsed in there, a smear of blood on the wall behind her. How he hadn’t smelt it was beyond him, but the wound in her side was obvious enough. As was the rise and fall of her chest, haggard but unmistakable.

The sight made his heart lurch, stirred something within him. The rush of emotion in his chest was entirely foreign, strange and aching and almost protective in a way he couldn’t parse. It made him hesitate in his instinctive advance to finish that job, and that confused him even more.

She was a Hunter. He just killed most of her companions. Why did he care if she was bleeding out in front of him? He never cared about other people like that, couldn’t afford to be kind or sympathetic. The best thing would be to kill her, too.

And yet. Something about her just refused to be reconciled with his knowledge that she needed to die.

“Nathan?”

He turned sharply at the sound of Priya’s voice, soft and inquisitive from down the hall. The young Hunter stirred at the sound, but didn’t fully rouse. Something cold trickled down Nathan’s spine.

“I—” he steadied himself. Tried to exude more confidence than he felt. “I have everything under control, Priya. I’ll meet you outside.”

From the flat look Priya gave him, she wasn’t buying it. But to his relief, she turned away. “You have five minutes.”

Five minutes. That was plenty of time to do... something. Figure out what he wanted to do. Talk himself out of making a horrible mistake.

The Hunter was looking at him, he realized. Her eyes were hazy, and they kept wandering, but there was something in her expression that chilled his blood. He didn’t know if anyone had ever looked at him like that.

It didn’t matter. Not giving himself time to rethink things, he stepped into the storage room and knelt down in front of her. He was followed the entire way by her searching, bewildered gaze.

“You…” Her voice was thin, but still full of emotion. Why did she sound like that? Why did his heart clench when he heard it?

He couldn’t dwell on that. Hunters were crafty; surely she had bandages or something on her. Fixing a grin on his face, he started to quickly sift through the pouches on her belt. The fact that she didn’t flinch was another thing he couldn’t dwell on, just a product of her blood loss.

“Yes, hello. I’m here to save your life. No need to thank me, just—“

“You’re dead.”

The statement brought him up short. It shouldn’t have. It shouldn’t have mattered. But something about the insistent, haunted way she said it cut him to the very core, stilled his hands as they closed around the med kit in her belt pouch.

It was true. He was dead. Matthias had killed him, that horrible night. And yet he still lived, in all of the ways that mattered. He wasn’t gone. He was still here. Still surviving, no matter what the world threw at him.

Why did she care? Did she care, or did she just see a monster wearing a human face, needing to be destroyed?

“Is that a problem?” Years of practice masking his emotions kept the tremor out of his voice, kept his tone light and easy, as he pulled the Hunter’s med kit free. He had to focus. He didn’t have a lot of time, and she didn’t have a lot of blood left.

“Am I dying too?”

If his heart was still beating, it would have stopped. The fear in her voice was so achingly, hauntingly familiar, like a terrified child searching for hope. Every bone in his body wanted to comfort her, wanted to let her know that nothing could hurt her anymore, and though he didn’t understand why, he could at least give her a chance.

A chance he never had.

“Not on my watch.” Practiced hands pulled the roll of bandages from her med kit and wound them around her side. Once again, Matthias’s training was coming in handy; without it, he wouldn’t have been able to bind her wound so quickly. The Hunter barely reacted as he pinned the bandages into place, and he wasn’t sure if it was because she too had had any such weakness trained out of her, or if she had lost too much blood to be fully aware of what he was doing.

With one last featherlight press of his fingers against the bandages covering the wound, he murmured a spell of regeneration before pulling away. It wouldn’t do much; he was no healer. But it would help keep her alive, and that was all that mattered. Even though it shouldn’t have mattered at all.

He stood, ignoring the way her eyes fluttered as she tried to track him. “I have to go. You seem capable; surely you can handle the rest. Hopefully we never meet again.”

“Wait—!” He didn’t dare hesitate as she called after him, just turned to run (not flee, just run) down the hall. He had already been there too long. He needed to go. Needed to wash the blood off his hands. Needed to find a way to suppress all of the roiling emotions that the Hunter had brought to the surface, emotions he hadn’t felt since before Matthias had torn his life apart.

“Nathan!”

The Hunter’s familiar, plaintive voice echoed in his ears for a long, long time, no matter how much he tried to expel it from his mind.

[notwarriorswiki]

Can you tell us a bit more about Scorchpaw? I don’t remember him at all from the canon books, so why did you chose him as a chosen one? What’s his general relationships like?

Because as a kid reading Eclipse his name caught my eye and I hyper fixated on him for years.

Nah but in all seriousness, yes his name played a part. I've always liked him and wanted to use him in the way my little kid mind did, rather than the background mate to Snowbird and her many kits. I don't ship Scorchfur and Snowbird here, which is funny now because it's only post The Last Hope that their relationship and many kits become a point of discussion. Oh well. Snowbird's mate is Smokefoot in my AU.

So yes I chose Scorchpaw - later known as Scorchfur! He's the only kit of Kinkfur and Cedarheart, making him Dawnpelt, Tigerheart, and Flametail's cousin.

He's a pretty awkward and skittish guy due to his power. he has the ability to know who walked in The Dark Forest in their dreams the previous night, indicated by a dark aura and pungent smell only he can see. Not knowing what it is or what it means when you're so little, he'd cower and hide from cats like Applefur and Tigerheart for seemingly no reason. He was very clingy to his mother, up until Star shows up. The ginger kit is renamed Starlingkit and while already 5 moons, Kinkfur is happy to take an outsider under her wing considering she herself was one. Unlike the nervous Scorchkit, Starlingkit is cold, self-assured, and won't hesitate to beat down on his trembling adoptive brother.

Scorchfur and Starlingwing have a complicated relationship. As apprentices Starlingpaw is always one-upping him and worsening his anxieties, pushing him beyond his comfort zone. The thing is, Starlingpaw sees the clan cats as rather weak due to his upbringing under Sol, and thinks they need some tough love if they're going to show his shitty ol' man how it's done. Slowly Scorchfur and Starlingwing get closer as they learn more about each other, though they always remain rather opposites. Scorchfur is incredibly driven by his emotions and wants to help people, while Starlingwing is very self-centered and does not have the head of a clan cat. Starlingwing has very little loyalty to his clan, rather it is fully to those he cares about. The warrior code means very little to Starlingwing, and he's a notorious breaker of rules. Scorchfur is a little rule follower and relies heavily on others for guidance. Starlingwing is fiercely independent and stands on his own.

He's a big mama's boy and Kinkfur dotes on him, though he has to share her with Starlingwing who does have a deep fondness for the she-cat as well, even if he doesn't show it much. Kinkfur is their mother, and was a doting one who was all over them even to their days as warriors. Cedarheart is a bit slow due to being in the elder's den due to his broken back legs, but he has hat "boys will be boys" attitude and finds Starlingwing and Scorchfur's differing personalities and how they bounce off each other to be a good thing for the both of them. They have a lot to learn from each other, and that does prove true.

Scorchpaw was apprenticed to Tigerheart, which... was really rough as he was terrified of him. Rowanstar believed he would be able to overcome it once he saw how kind Tigerheart truly was. Scorchpaw ends up latching on to Starlingpaw's mentor Dawnpelt, giving the ginger tom even more ammo back then to bully his adoptive brother. Scorchpaw ultimately learns of his power and doesn't fear Tigerheart, and they become close. He finds Dawnpelt a bit intimidating due to her presence, but knows she's a good cat and holds a lot of respect for her.

Flametail strongly dislikes Scorchfur as he feels like he took his place. After Flametail learns he is not one of the cats with powers, he goes rogue and secretly walks with The Dark Forest. He begins communicating with his grandfather Tigerstar and feeding him information about how Lionblaze, Tigerheart, and Minnowtail have been spies all this time, that Jayfeather has a special place StarClan and The Dark Forest can't watch over, everything. It is ultimately Scorchpaw who reveals Flametail's betrayal, the ginger tom unaware of Scorchpaw's power. Dawnpelt is in denial at first, thinking her brother could never do such a thing, yet her ability to detect lies didn't go off when Scorchpaw told her this, and she's forced to confront the truth. Flametail will always be bitter and hate Scorchfur for this alone.

He's close with Dovewing of ThunderClan, both him, Tigerheart, and Lionblaze playing integral roles in helping the she-cat when she learns her father Birchfall is training in the Dark Forest. Scorchfur is only a bit older than Dovewing, so the two relate about their sibling conflicts, how they ultimately care about their sibling, and their own personal insecurities.

[obwjam]

Astraea, the tiny person, was equally terrified. She had been exploring the human world when she was suddenly confronted by a menacing rat that had chased her into Louis's apartment. She had managed to escape its clutches but had suffered a nasty gash on her arm.

Louis, trembling with fear and confusion, stared down at Astraea. He had no idea what to do. He could hardly believe his eyes. In his panicked state, he reached for a glass jar, thinking he could trap her safely until he figured out how to help.

Astraea, seeing the looming glass prison, panicked even further. She pleaded in her tiny voice, "Please, sir, don't put me in there! I need help!"

Louis hesitated. He wasn't a brave man, nor did he have the slightest inkling that Astraea was anything more than a supernatural creature. In his mind, she was just as terrifying as the rat. His best option, he thought, was to seek help from someone who knew about strange and otherworldly beings.

With trembling hands, he gently scooped up Astraea and placed her in a small box, cushioning her with some tissue paper. He grabbed his coat and rushed out of his apartment, determined to find the only people he thought might be able to help—The Ghostbusters.

When Louis burst into the Ghostbusters' firehouse, Egon and Ray were in the middle of examining some ghostly readings on their equipment. Their proton packs lay nearby, always at the ready.

Louis, gasping for breath, held out the box containing Astraea. "You guys have to help! I found this... this creature in my apartment. It's hurt, and I don't know what to do!"

Ray, always the compassionate one, took the box from Louis and peered inside. His eyes widened in amazement as he saw Astraea, cold, weak, malnourished, and clearly injured. He gently picked her up, cradling her in his hand.

Egon, the resident scientist, approached to get a closer look. "This is extraordinary," he murmured, examining Astraea's tiny form.

Ray nodded, his expression softening. "We'll take care of her, Louis. Don't worry."

As Astraea was carried away by Ray, her fear began to subside. She realized that these humans weren't like the ones she had seen in stories. They were kind and gentle, and they had the means to help her heal.

Louis, still bewildered but relieved, watched as the Ghostbusters set to work tending to Astraea's injuries before leaving.

Ray, with utmost care, cradled Astraea in his hand, mindful of her fragile state. As he examined her, he noticed her malnourished and frail condition. Her tiny frame shivered from the cold, and her breathing was shallow and weak.

Astraea winced and whimpered as Ray's gentle touch probed her injured arm. "It hurts," she whispered in a tiny voice, her eyes welling up with tears. The pain had been a constant companion since her encounter with the rat, but now, in the presence of these gentle humans, she felt a glimmer of hope.

Ray's heart went out to her. "I know it does," he said softly, his voice filled with compassion. "But we're going to take good care of you, I promise."

He reached for a tiny bandage from a nearby medical kit, specially designed for small injuries like Astraea's. With delicate precision, he cleaned her wound and expertly wrapped it, his touch as light as a feather.

As Ray tended to her injuries, Astraea began to feel a sense of warmth and comfort that she hadn't experienced in a long time. The Ghostbusters' firehouse was a stark contrast to the harsh world she had been living in.

Egon stood nearby, marvelling at the discovery of a real-life tiny person. He carefully monitored Astraea's vital signs, making sure she was stable. The scientific part of him was fascinated, but he understood the urgency of her situation.

With Ray's care and the attention of the Ghostbusters, Astraea's strength gradually returned. She was provided with nourishment and a safe place to rest, something she had longed for. Ray's gentle touch had not only treated her physical wounds but had also started to heal the emotional scars caused by her terrifying ordeal.

Little did Louis know that his decision to seek help from the Ghostbusters would not only save Astraea's life but also lead to an extraordinary friendship between her and the compassionate Ray.

As Astraea continued to recover in the care of Ray and the Ghostbusters, Ray took on the role of her protector and caregiver with unwavering dedication. He understood the importance of providing her with sustenance to help her regain her strength.

Gently, Ray prepared a minuscule meal for Astraea, carefully selecting the tiniest morsels of food he could find in the firehouse kitchen. With steady hands, he offered her a morsel, making sure she could eat without further discomfort. Astraea, weak but grateful, nibbled on the offered food, her trust in Ray growing with each bite.

To keep her warm, Ray devised a clever solution. He fashioned a tiny nest for Astraea using soft materials, like cotton and tissue, and nestled her within it. Then, with the utmost care, he cradled her against his own body, sharing his warmth to ward off the lingering chill that had taken hold of her frail form.

As Astraea rested against Ray's chest, she could feel his steady heartbeat, a comforting rhythm that lulled her into a peaceful slumber. His warmth enveloped her, making her forget the harshness of the world she had known just hours ago.

Ray stayed with her through the night, ensuring she was comfortable and safe. With each passing moment, Astraea's injuries began to heal, and her energy slowly returned. She gazed up at Ray with gratitude in her eyes, her trust in him solidified.

The bond between Astraea and Ray grew stronger with each passing day. He had not only saved her life but had also become her protector and friend in this strange, oversized world. And as the days turned into weeks, their friendship would prove to be a testament to the power of compassion and care, transcending size and boundaries. She would be their little spy in their time of need.

BYEEEEE OH MY GODDDD THE HURT/COMFORT I CANNOTTTTTT

[justagalwhowrites]

Hi Kit! Man, I’ve been SO STRESSED about this part of Yearling even though it is still so so heartbreaking, I love the way you approach it. I wasn’t looking forward to several chapters of them not speaking or exclusively fighting or something. The fact that they’re talking, even begrudgingly, and that Bambi is still very obviously conflicted about her feelings makes it so much better. The way sweet Joel knows how to stay back and not push, that incredible POV while he was caring for her and apologizing to her… ugh. This man has so much respect and is doing everything right 😭

Hi Bestie!!

I know, this part isn't exactly FUN but neither of them hate each other or anything. Probably because it's my only other OG timeline longfic but I keep thinking about it compared to Lavender? Bambi here is not like Joel there. Joel was so angry and in so much pain and he was just taking it out on Doc. He was desperate to avoid attachment because it was so dangerous for him to be attached to anyone. For Bambi, it's not attachment she's afraid of, it's Raiders. She doesn't WANT to cut Joel off, she wants to never be hurt the way she was in the past. She still loves Joel, she's just now in a place where she's questioning EVERYTHING about their relationship and him. She never would have thought him capable of being a Raider so she's now terrified of what else he might be capable of that she didn't consider. It never crossed her mind before that he might be lying, that he might not really care about her, but now she doesn't feel like she can be sure of anything and she's terrified of that. She wants to be with Joel but she needs to be safe more. And of course there's Joel, who loves Bambi so much but can't change what he used to be. He was never proud of it but he lived with it by justifying it to himself. He did what he had to do in a time where everyone was doing what they had to do. But now he's having to reckon more with what that actually meant to people outside of him and Tommy and deal with the fallout with the woman he loves. They're both hurting but they still love and care about each other deeply. They just aren't in a place to be together right now.

But Joellllll 😭 he's so pure and so soft and he wants to do right by her so bad and just... I love him so much, OK? It's a problem.

ANYWAYYYYYY

Thank you so much for reaching out and for reading! Love you!!!

[feralkwe]

For the DT questions meme, 2, 12, and 18

i love how we nearly same-brained these questions. xoxo

under a cut for spoilers.

2. what was the first thing they did when they arrived in tuliyollal?

kit took a moment to stand on the shore and just absorb everything into her senses. the sound of the waves, the warmth of the sun, the smell of the air, the color of the sky. she was charged with seeing as much of the world as she could, and it's something she takes very seriously. everything about this voyage held the promise of a new adventure, and she was determined not only to commit it to memory, but to pause in the moment and experience it in ways that previous adventures had not allowed for. it marked what she needed and wanted to be a new chapter of life, and she paused to ground herself in that before taking steps forward.

12. what was their opinion of the culture of recycling souls and the use of regulators? did this change as the story progressed?

much like aubrey, she was utterly and wholly horrified. that very much did not change. given all of the loved ones--friends, mentors, lovers--whose souls have returned to the aetherial sea, she could not find any way to be okay with the idea of denying that rest and renewal of life to them. to the very depths of who she is it felt wrong and tragic in a way that made her physically ill. the more she thought about it the more angry she became and the more determined that it had to stop. not only that, but the removal of those souls from the memories of their loved ones terrified and devastated her. being able to remember those loved ones is a responsibility that, sure, comes with pain, but is a privilege to her as well. the charge to remember is what she considers perhaps her most important duty, and one she will see fulfilled in the names of those who carried it before her. there is no world where she would be able to accept it.

18. what important relationships changed or developed throughout dawntrail?

i knew before i read them all you'd pick this one for kit lol. obviously her relationship with thancred and urianger changed. ew ended with things uncertain for them, and dt offered a new opportunity to remember what drew them together in the first place while offering the fun of a friendly rivalry that was oddly healing. it also added another... shall we say element that i am still figuring out much to my own outrage. why do they keep doing this to me? some days i miss the simplicity that was just kit and urianger lol.

kit also always liked erenville, but they really had a chance to develop a friendship through dawntrail. getting to go on a journey with him alone was an incredible experience for her and she's come to care for him deeply. he quickly and easily elevated himself to a place where he is cherished by her.

most interesting to me is the way she was able to finally start the process of healing the rift between herself and g'raha. because my timeline for her has stb/shb/ew all happening one on top of the other, she's not really had the chance to address her harsh, ugly, and slightly unfair feelings toward him. where she'd cooled to indifference to his presence, there was finally a moment where she was able approach the pain. you know the one. she's known for a while that she was being too hard on him, and that he deserves her grace at least as much as emet-selch or elidibus did, but has been resistant to actually taking the steps to change that. i'm actually relieved, and look forward to digging into how that all played out.

also, the mentor/mentee relationship she's built with wuk lamat is something which has been very good for her. it's much different to the one she has with alisaie in ways i'm too tired to try and parse out right now, but probably relates to the hot girl warrior fun times they had. it was something which delighted me throughout the msq.

thanks for the asks! i had such a fun time with dawntrail and will take any opportunity to chatter about it!

[bogbiter]

League Concept: Flying Wyverns (ft. THROGG?!?!)

Hello beasties! Remember that guy I was rewriting? This man started in the same train of thought as Kyridon. Actually he was the OG. And he was admittedly not as cool. Or lore wise, thought out. He was PURELY designed for being a monster champ with a brawler kit.

And boy he has grown in concept since the start of 2021.

Let me tell you about a troll. His name is Throgg

Throgg from Warhammer Fantasy is one of the most intelligent individuals in the Old World. And most definitely the most intelligent troll period. While his original appearance did not paint him as especially bright, if just exceptionally competent in tactics. Yet The Kinslayer and End Times saga painted him a far more intelligent force. Like, he was Warhammer Fantasy's take on Smaug, having such a Shakespearean flair that one did not expect from some senior aged troll.

milkandcookiesTW does an exceptional video on the dude, and I do recommend reading Kinslayer as they not only make him the big bad, but also just because Felix and Gotrek books are just swag.

What does this do with our boy here? Well, the story below details that juxtaposition between pure predator and architect of the future of an entire species. Also yes we're revisiting the Freljord again fuckers because the Northern Lands of Ice and Frost need more things to kill you.

----

In the Frozen lands, there lies the ancestral site of the Laitivern, the original Rulers of the Sky. For Generations, hundreds of  these wyvern clans would roost within the massive elder volcano of Wyrms Furnace, their kin dominating the skyline. And at one point they were not just limited to the Freljord either, for they had in older days conquered the world. They were cunning, and recognized that in a world of great beasts, numbers overwhelming lead to victory. They existed alongside Man, Troll, Minotaur, and Vastaya, but they were not on equal terms. They raided Man and Minotaur, competed with Troll, and preyed upon Vastaya. Their namesake became synonymous with dragons, for a flock of wandering Laitiverns could very easily overwhelm a territory and strip it of livestock and soldiers. 

The Rune Wars changed this dynamic however, for the sorcery unfolded onto the world would scar the lands they called home. Magibeast once dormant before days of creation rose up, and tempered the land in strange horrific ways. Magic radiated into new and terrifying plagues, and for as clever as the The Laitivern were, they did not know how to combat these new threats. But the other races did, and though they too had an uphill battle, they gained a footing when the Laitiverns themselves could not. They disappeared from most of the world, and those who resided in the Freljord soon found that Man and Troll had grown stronger. Now their meals were stolen away, or their hunting flocks ambushed and feasted upon. Some of these terrible magic plagues tore into scales like scalding iron, and left them too weak to fly. And those who could not fly, they starved. Many clans were razed in this era, and the Laitivern went into hiding, less they attracted the unwanted attention of Dragon Hunters and Slayers.

Those around the Freljord could sometimes go weeks without a successful kill. And as the magibeast roamed the land, and the shamans spread themselves out far and wide, those at Wyrm's Furnace had an idea to feed on them instead. The flesh of Balestag or Frost Casting Yeti could suffice a flock for much longer than a typical boar or cave bear. These hunts were not… always successful… but those who came back proved themselves the most capable and cunning of their flock, and were awarded the title of Mach'dala, or "Soul Downer''.

To their surprise, the young that ate upon the sweet meat of these corrupted creatures seemed to grow a powerful resistance to crippling frost magic, or bolts of channeled fire. Seeing positive effects of their more daring hunts, the tradition carried on, and slowly did their magical potency grow as those same hatchlings would then grow up into Mach'dala themselves. Near the modern age, as Noxus crashed the gates of holds in the east of the Freljord, some Laitiverns could deflect the magic, and those that had hunted shamans could now bring their own runic powers to the hunt. But they had also harnessed in this time the "Styg '', or "Wrath". The ability to breathe a clouded emission black as storm clouds and rolling with red thunder,  that could direct at prey and foe alike. The Laitivern became known as Galdrveiðrormr, or as the Mage Hunter Wyverns. And those of Wyrm's Furnace grew bold, and even with Anivia in the skies… they claimed the heavens as their domain.

Wyrm's Furnace however was full of more Laitiverns than the Mach'dala. There were the Oldsouls who guided the roost and healed its soldiers, the Foragers who gathered supplies for nesting and firemaking, the Bouncers who protected the roost, and the Carvers, who carved out rock for them to build more nests and roosts. An apt home for hatchling, with many careers to seek. Among a clutch of eggs that belonged to a esteemed Carver and Mach'dala, was Veyolkos. 

It was very clear after he hatched he was born a gifted hatchling, with his scales sharpening very early on, and learning to glide within a month of hatching. But this caused the problem where he was a bit too curious. Curiosity in the Freljord for even humans and Yordles has to be tempered, otherwise death would be the answer to the inquiry. So they kept him near the Oldsouls, who had no qualm with watching a hatchling. Except Veyolkos the moment he learned to speak, had too many questions. He asked why they collected spears, and was told they were warrior's trophies. When he asked if he could make a spear, the elders were dumbfounded, and had no idea if they could. Humans seemed to make them with ease, but they were so thin the Laitivern's saw them as an inconvenience. What use was a weapon if you were already so dangerous unarmed. He didn't like the answer, and attempted to make such spears. And then axes. And then disastrously, a bow. After a few days and a few more missing scales and bruises from the Laitivern Chick's attempted craftsmanship, they relieved Veyolkos of their watch, the Oldsouls growing tired of his boundless energy and always fidgeting talons resulting in injuries around the roost. 

This was unseemly, as chicks could easily get lost or snatched up by an Azurite Eagle. But a few experienced foragers agreed, for his mother couldn't take him as she hunted far more dangerous beasts, and his father worked near falling stone for a living. Taking him under their wing, they showed them the shells they used to forage water, and the branches they searched for that carried the healing ingredients needed for the Oldsouls to use. They showed him flint, and chunks of metal along the cliff faces that helped start flame. And this, seemed to get him wondering if the wood they harvested for the fires couldn't be used to make something else. Especially seeing how easily the wind could snatch their cache from their talons. So he took to some branches, and as the veterans foraged, attempted to make a basket. He had never seen a basket, but he figured something that could hold multiple supplies at a time they could carry in their jaws and talons, was far easier. And to his chagrin, after six fell apart, the seventh carried back 3 shells of water and a bundle of medicinal batteries. The Veterans were curious about the little thing, and asked the young hatchling how it was made. And Veyolkos was more than happy to show.

As he grew into a Yearling, he would continue as a forager. Though he would not lie, he wasn't particularly fond of just being a forager. Yes he made baskets for collecting, but he also wanted to make more with the sticks, bones, and stones at his disposal. So he made for larger baskets yes, and sleds to make transporting caches easier, but he also took to equipping himself with armor. Most notably, taking the hides of kills and tanning them to make leather. To make into stripes. And to create spears around his face and shoulders, as to create a formidable defense as he and other foragers would descend into the valley to steal from the Freljord's wolves and bears. Veyolkos despite his size would always attempt to lead the attack, for though he was similar in size to the bears he believed his craftsmanship would stand the test against them. And the first couple attempts did not. But he learned to treat the wood with flame, and sharpen the bone instead of just relying on its broken pieces. And soon his body was among the veterans as they reaped hard earned scraps, as he tore into their furred hides with sharpened blades and claws, bringing back extra to be eaten, and additionally bringing him more materials to work with. 

Though the Bouncers found his designs to be… the work of a fledgling that had yet to realize his true strength, the Foragers were more than happy to use his new equipment. Veyolkos at first believed he could create a new career, here in Wyrm's Furnace. As much as he enjoyed gathering, he couldn't help but feel it would be wasted potential. While others saw shapes and landmarks, he saw patterns. Patterns that could be manipulated and made into something new. For his siblings he created shields of bone and hide, to protect their sides once they were applied. When they went off to hunt, they wouldn't be as scathed by a predator's blows, but they did return with the armor mangled and torn. Which only incentivised him to cure leather and toughen the hide at his disposal.

But at two years of age, all his planning and testing was interrupted by his mother. His mother saw his tinkering not as the work of a brilliant mind or an opportunistic artist, but a soul yearning for conflict. Wolves and Elk wouldn't cut it, no, he'd need bigger prey. She told him that since he could fly with expertise now, that he must return home with magically gifted prey. Veyolkos was mortified at first, for he had heard his mother's stories of those beasts beyond in the Old Pines and Evergrowth. But before he went out, he asked her to let him prepare for it. She accepted, and for 2 months he fastened himself a suit of leather, bone, and took from an abandoned den, a worn out and torn chest piece of steel to make as a helm. And so he went out on his hunt, soaring through the skies in ragged armor. There amidst stormy skies he scoured, the pelts of his armor keeping him protected from the bite of winter's wind. 

The storm he flew into made it so visibility was low, but amidst the flurry he caught sight of a fire deep in a cave. He perched outside of it, resting atop the mouth of the cave, as he let himself lay low and hid beneath the white blanket of the precipitation. There he saw a lone man, decorated in bear furs moving back to the cave, unaware of the danger lurking above his own refuge. He had heard of Shamanic Werebears, and wondered if though not the largest kill to make, if it would draw the praise of his roost. This was his first magibeast to down, not fed to him in shreds from the mouth of an elder or his mother.As soon as the shaman passed under the roof of the cave Veyolkos shot forward like a panther leaping towards a bird in flight. His body contorted, facing the man as the man instinctively entered his Ursine state. The two collided, bouncing into the cave as both tried to land their jaws on the throat of the other. But Veyolkos’s face spears became too difficult to navigate around, and so the Ursine departed, bleeding from his chest and arms, and tried to find a new way to attack this armored Laitivern. Veyolkos would look around, to find that indeed, Laitivern scales were used in the making of spears and axes. He snapped his jaws as the Ursine tried to rush for his flank, only to pull away, revealing that hidden along their neck was the teeth of bear, wolf, raptor… Laitivern. This Shaman most likely had experience, and knowing killing a slayer like him could prove dangerous to his people, he immediately went to flee, only to feel the Ursine crash into him and knock him over, immediately trying to go for his chest, yet seemed somewhat stunned when his claws only struck hide and stone. Which he had still torn apart, but had not reached the vitals of the Laitivern. Taking advantage of the situation, Veyolkos slapped the Ursine onto its back, and flipping himself up with cat-like agility. He plunged his head spears into the Ursine Man’s side and continued the fight, as the bear man clawed away at his face only for Veyolkos to plunge his spears deeper into the shaman. The struggle was long and brutal, Veyolkos withdrawing only after the Ursine stopped swiping away with their claws. His own face was a bloody mess, but beyond the blood flowing down his eyes, he was able to see the man’s bag. Torn up during their brawl, he noticed its contents included a long scroll, made from the skin of a seal. He nabbed it and the man’s body, flying off with his catch.

He returned to his mother and the elders, presenting his kill as he panted, before showing off his armor. He harshly dropped the shaman before their feet, before ripping a chunk out of the Ursine’s flesh, harshly gulping down the pelt and viscera. He couldn't hear anything they said, but he assumed he had pleased them. He climbed to the top of the Qyrm's Furnace, and took to studying the runes engraved onto the pelt, occupied only by the howl of the wind.

----

            Laitivern mature rapidly at a young age, then it slowly peters out once they reach twelve years of age. As sub-adults they are not yet old enough to court or start their own clutch, but they can hunt amongst one another with some independence. Veyolkos had decided to flip flop between the Forager groups and Mach'dala. Amongst his siblings he was an alien, they adhered to the ways of old. And so he was most regarded not as a pack mate, but a tag-along. And so on their hunts he'd disappear for a time, since they wanted nothing to do with his inventions. But that was fine for Veyolkos. He'd begun smiting since he was seven, and had outfitted his talons with claws befitting a king. Silver he had learned, had some properties that could protect him from the surge of energy his prey usually outputted. Mystical stags he'd search for, not awake. For their speed was so frighteningly swift he could never keep up. When he found such prey he'd make sure they were sleeping. Sometimes he'd silently move in and pin the magibeast down, eating them alive. Other times he just found it easier to grab a large chunk of ice or a boulder to drop on them and concuss them. Before taking his talons to their throat. Should he find the campsites of hunters, he'd make sure none were around before taking any armor or artifacts they possessed as novelties to research. Most treasured to him was literature,for even power fantasies where the author obviously transposed himself into his work he found utterly fascinating. His favorite thing to catch he had created a pulley system just to harpoon the beast: The Frost Serpent. He had found their hide was too sharp and smooth to gain purchase with talons, and they moved so quickly that it would be a miracle to catch their giant eyes to rangle the beast. So Veyolkos had learned to harpoon them as soon as possible, and cranking the pulley could effectively keep one in place and slowly drag it to be butchered. His siblings called it cheating and barbaric. He called it an opportunity, for their sharp scales and fangs made for excellent blades and armor scaling.

         Among his foraging kin he'd fashion them nets, should everyone be feeling more in the need for fish and seal. And he'd create great traps to capture Elnüks. The Foragers also noted how he often searched for herbs when they were available, and whatever food they had he would use them on the meat. At first they found it strange to add greens to their carrion, but when cooked, or he put it in a stone pot he had made and boiled them together, opinions changed quickly. He was always fast on the wing, and that made him exceptionally good at catching the more mundane prey.  And they knew for a fact he would hunt the yetis that marched around their territory, plucking them straight from the sky only to drop them to the earth, like an eagle does with a tortoise. 

          Though his most macabre behavior of butchery. Impaling his prey to the trees and their branches, so that he could take his claws and remove their hides, and cut their flanks. He had made a basket specifically for this act, and he'd return with the cut pieces and prepare it for whoever was willing to eat from his kills. Sometimes he'd return with the helm of a Frostguard, other times the necklace of the Ursine, and rarely the weapons of the Winter's Claw.  To the Laitivern he was still Veyolkos, but he had heard himself spoken about in times where he lurked in the shadows outside of man's fire glow… as The Windrazor. Veyolkos appreciated the name, and on his 14th year decided that his title should be just that: The Windrazor.

Naturally though as tensions rised in the Freljord, with the coming of the Dominion and the Walled Settlements of the Avarosans, hunts were now far more stressful. Especially now that Wyrm's Furnace was repeatedly being raided by Tribal Yordle, Trolls, and Slayers of The Winter's Claw. To kill a Laitiverns had always been a statement to one's hunting prowess, but their sharp scales and strong hide made for excellent armor and weapon crafting. The Bouncers were strong folk, but they were being overrun. As some bouncers fell after raid after raid, and The Mach'dala themselves would fall,  Veyolkos stopped his hunts, and stayed behind to watch over his kin's ancestral site, ready to prove himself capable of protecting their roost. He took to what resources he had, and through convincing, equipped the remaining Bouncers In Armor, protecting their faces and chest, yet still allowing them to shoot their scales out at the enemy. He asked upon the Carvers to find fine stone deep within Wyrm's Furnace, and bring it to him. There he'd teach them, including his own father, to make blades for the tails of The Bouncers, and these blue, steel-shining great blades were so refined in quality that they could take down scores of men, and even without their cutting edge the weight alone could crush a troll's skull. 

He rallied the foragers and equipped them in shields that protected their flanks, and branded their heads with metal spears and their chest with plates made of thick hides and stone. They would go out there to scout first the whereabouts of these hunters, using the cover of night and thunderstorm to determine exactly how these raiders planned to take them. Mach’dala and Bouncers occupied any forces coming from their east and north, while they determined the best possible way to strike. Veyolkos also searched out the Vellox tribes that wandered near their territory, and communed with Yetis. He raised to them teh cruelty they had been experiencing, and how together, they could not only protect Wyrm’s Furnace, but all those in the freljord. He was no longer just trying to protect the Laitiverns, he was amassing an army to do so. He asked his siblings and mother to aid him in such encounters, and at first confused and just going along, they had not the slightest idea why? Only to see Vellox cowering and Yetis lowering their ice clubs in their presence, as Veyolkos spoke with haunting authority, though the other Mach’dala could not discern what he was saying. They would bow to each other, and then the non-laitiverns would leave. Only for Veyolkos to tell them each time:

“Numbers make us look professional. A mad Laitivern rambling does not hold the same power unless occupied by his kin. Especially if he speaks their tongue.”

He would soon talk with the Oldsouls his next set of plans, to continue teaching the carvers how to sculpt armor, and to carve out more dens for the new alliances.. The Oldsouls at first seemed offended by the preposition. They lambasted him for getting distracted. He had always needlessly complicated everything with redundancy and risks. At first Veyolkos let them ramble on, insulting his plans and his reliance on historical enemies, and his cruel affection towards melting metal to crudely reshape it. He then snickered after they had their say, and wandered back to his den. But not without departing to them some words, his tone callous,

“I was not asking for permission, I was letting you know.”

Continuously during their scouting, Veyolkos would plunge deeper past their territories to find covens in the moonlight, gliding silently to learn of their language, and their magics. For his many years with the scroll of his first kill, it had yet to dawn on him what it could mean. But as he had gotten older, he had gotten wiser, and more keen to meaning and interpretation. And understanding the magics their enemies often used was part of the battle. Know the enemy, more than they know you. And as he grew to understand the runic languages, he’d return back to the roost. He would make sure armor was being made, weapons being carved, food being prepared and stored. He’d have the foragers learn to create new tonics and wrappings to aid the bouncers, and then he’d retreat to his den. Only to take the scroll out and reach the highest peak to study the writing. The humans were obsessed with things beyond them. They shared that, and yet as he came to rehearse the incantations, he understood the nature of the scrolls. To shape into something else. To shape into another form of beast. He held in this information, and seeing what needed to be done, he tucked it away into his den. And prepared for conflict. Afterall, blood was to be spilled.

----

It turned out a large group of mercenaries, slayers, and soldiers of the Winter’s Claw had made their trek to Wyrm’s Furnace to finally get the materials needed for their employers or clan. War is, in part, a business, and buyers have strict schedules and due dates. As they ventured towards Wyrm’s Furnace, they noted how quiet it was. The Freljord could be isolating and haunting, but even here the wind seemed only distant. And as they reached the edge of the treeline heading towards the clearing, four of them took a step too far to the right, and were suddenly plunged straight into the earth. Looking down at their comrades, all they found was the four impaled on spikes of carved cedar, bleeding out as they stared down at the bottom of the pit. As if on cue, bolts were fired at the encroaching band of hunters and mercenaries. Many mages put up barriers for them and their crew as they ran past the treeline, shields raised for those who did not have arcane energies protecting them. But the bolts had come high from the peaks, before a new wave set upon the encroaching men. These bolts were massive, more akin to ballista as they descended down, taking a seventeen more of the hunters, limiting their numbers. As they saw no Laitivern in the sky, many shouted for their fellow man to take cover, as they rushed for the massive jutting stones that surrounded the mountain. Many took bows or muskets and fired up where the shots were coming from, hoping to score some blows.

Then they heard something coming from where the Laitiverns roosted. An eerie, discordant hymn, and it felt like those at the base of the mountain were no longer alone. They all felt it: something has gone deeply and irreversibly wrong… and they needed to start running. As soon as they were going to reposition, they heard screeching as a great pack of raptors descended upon them. With the beasts’ strong back legs and jagged bills, a few more mercs fell before the raptors were ignited by the magics of the mage or the molten lead of muskets. And yet the raptors stayed firm, dragging people out into the opening clearing. Some of those people dragged out were able to down the beast with spears and axes, and as soon as they stood up to seek cover, they were pelted with boulders. Attacking the hunters now were Yetis, roaring and beating their chest as they grabbed clubs and warpaddles before charging in. Some of them, the smaller white haired primates, fell, but the elders stayed strong and crashed into their flank. 

Retreating up, they soon were beset upon by Vellox, whose snow leopard print helped them camouflage into the mountain, as their human faces suddenly bared saber fangs as robust monstrous winged arms threw them towards the hunters, tussling with them as they scrapped on the steps of the Laitivern’s roosting site. Weapons striked against flesh with the same ferocity of claws and fangs sundering armor. The Vellox had ways to avoid a direct engagement, with some departing to blow onto their foes winter’s cold embrace, freezing them in place. Yet still Vellox would fall, but as they did the Raptors and Yetis charged from behind, hoping to take the hunter’s down with them if they could. And the hymn above became not some eerie whisper, but a chaotic cacophony being blown through the horn of a ram. Before a Vellox would climb onto a rock and chant, and as she began her most terrifying dirge, the roost erupted with the sound of metal and flapping wings.

The chaos that ensued was swift and brutal, as the Laitiverns defended their ancestral site with an unmatched ferocity. The hunters and mercenaries found themselves vastly outnumbered and overwhelmed as descending onto the group like a horde of wasps were the Laitiverns they had come to hunt. Many bolted for the treeline, running as the Laitivern’s armor blocked their shots, and they threw themselves towards the mages, dragging them away as more of their kin flew ahead of the humans, claws lowering as they lifted the men into the heavens, tearing them apart as they took the remains back to the roost. The ground shook beneath the clashing forces, and the air was filled with the sounds of battle cries, roars, and the piercing screeches of the Laitiverns. Many of those from The Winter’s Claw stood their ground, and those slayers were able to counter the aerial dives of the Laitiverns. Yet they didn’t expect to suddenly be confronted by the heavily armored form of Laitivern Bouncers, Yetis, and Vellox barreling down the mountain towards them. Nor the synchronized volleys of scales being thrown at them. 

Veyolkos had expected a larger group, and though mildly disappointed at only two hundred something men, it made his job way easier. He soared through the sky, leading the foragers and his siblings in a coordinated attack. He darted through the air like a dark shadow, shedding his scales like a storm of glinting blades to lacerate and weaken their forces, before with the cold calculation and agility of a falcon in the dive to strike with deadly precision. And when he noted the flank they were striking was in disarray, he lunged for a sorceress clinging behind a rock for cover. He dived down again, tucking in his wings as he descended from a great height towards her. He angled himself to the side and spread out his wings, coasting down towards her with talons outstretched, seeing the hunter witch’s eyes widen as his talons enveloped her chest. As he nabbed her he flew towards the center of combat, letting loose a series of Styg projectiles onto the enemy to scatter their forces. It wouldn’t be long now till they either broke, or were devoured. So as he applied crushing pressure to her ribs within his grasp, he had to act quickly. He flew behind many a peak to hide his position, as he landed on his perch for which he had titled his study, harshly throwing her down.

He grabbed his scroll, and as he set the stone down on the edges of the scroll, she began to scream at him, of course. She had expected to hunt creatures a little above yetis in wit, not, whatever this armored beast was.

“What!? What the fuck are you planning?!”

He scoffed at her, making sure the seal skin scroll was secure as he turned to face her with a look of not pride nor indifference, but the look of a tiger caught stalking its quarry.

“The intellect I have can be gifted unto another. I refuse to see my society surrounded by witless animals.”

Now was her turn to scoff, as she leered at him with a mocking tone.

“Awwww… golden boy feels he’s wasted on chewing bones with the rest of his packmates-”

He slammed his bladed tail onto her with a sudden harshness, the woman hacking and wheezing as she felt her body crumple from the strike, as he approached her with way too much a casual stride, as he picked her up with his wing claws.

“Though river streams and hills grow steeper, man grows a little more shallow. What right do you have to try and belittle me, witless tool? You have come to slay, and now are to be slain. At least your death will merit some greater use!”

She squirmed in his hold, as he held her over the paper, the Laitivern chanting as she screamed for him to let go, a spell loading within her palm to smite the Laitivern. Veyolkos could see the runes begin to glow in her presence, and so he raised his other wing talon, aiming it at her neck, knowing to make it quick-

“I will give you the taste of the beast that you see in me!"

And in a sudden slicing movement she felt skin tear, then muscle, then a tingling warm pooling before her consciousness fled. And she coughed, though as her blood fell onto the scroll, and as it did she too began to fade, though slightly, as color fled from her skin and hair, her body a dull gray wash as the luminance from the pages poured into his chest. The new rush of energy was paralyzing at first, as he stumbled back, her form turning into mere ashes as they blew over his scales, branding his face in white stripes that ran down his nostril and under his eyes, branding some of the patterning in his wings. When he could finally move, he heard Yetis howling, Vellox roaring, and Laitivern’s trilling. He soon flew back to the scene below, as the many parties feasted on those who decided to experience a warrior's death. Veyolkos landed before them, breathing heavily from the exertion of the ritual. They seemed oblivious to what he had done, assuming him to have just been pursuing the marauders. 

To his surprise, the Oldsouls and the Elders approached The Windrazor, their demeanor now changed. They had witnessed the rewards of his planning, and wordlessly bowed to him. He was dumbstruck by the wordless praise he had received. One of respect. His mother and father, having been in the fight, showed their throat to him, the highest level of trust and respect a laitivern could receive. He began to fidget in place, before broadening out his wings, and roaring to the crown a decree. A promise.

“THIS! THIS MARKS THE BEGINNING! TO AN AGE OF BEASTS!”

For now he had the skills gained to understand his enemy… far more intimately than before.

Veyolkos Kit:

Passive-Volatile Coating: The more damage he takes from Epic Monsters, Dragons, or Enemy Champs, the more his energy bar is filled. Once filled Veyolkos can charge his next attacks with draconic energy with increased movement speed for 3 seconds

Q - Voltaic Lunge: Veyolkos lunges towards a targeted location, knocking back any enemy champion or minion he collides with. Upon impact, a searing energy mark is left on the target, dealing physical damage.

W - Thousand Blades: Veyolkos sheds part of his armor for a brief moment, sending shards flying outward in all directions. These shimmering shards damage any enemy champions and minions they hit.

E - Evasive Maneuvers: With lightning speed, Veyolkos rapidly dashes away while releasing Styg energy forward, dealing additional searing damage if performed up close. From a distance, the Styg inflicts minor physical damage.

Ultimate - Flight of The Razorwing: Veyolkos takes to the skies, gaining enhanced mobility. During this time, his abilities undergo changes:

Voltaic Lunge becomes Thunderous Grapple, allowing him to tackle and immobilize a single enemy champion.

Thousand Blades transform into Draconic Cleave, a 360-degree tail swipe that damages all nearby enemies.

Evasive Maneuvers evolves into Laitivern's Dive, granting Veyolkos an arching leap with a powerful energy blast upon landing.

----

Aighty so physically he's gone like over... several hundred iterations. What remains consistent is the general build of Seregios, from the sharp scales, wing walking, and face. While also incorporating the more panthurine movement and tail slams of Nargacuga.

He's also gone through like several hundred actual redesigns, and while he started as just that: A flying wyvern capable of speech, he did evolve more into an analog to Throgg. And while Trundle is a legitimate troll king and is pretty sick, he more or less serves as a modestly competent himbo in a alliance with Lissandra. Veyolkos fills the roll of a cunning beast going through great lengths to ensure he has the means to play his cards correctly. He likes to innovate, he likes to build, but most importantly he likes to share that knowledge to elevate his people. But he also understands the sinister nature of his action, and how it spawned partially from necessity, but mostly through curiosity.

His own desire to stake out his claim and plunge Runeterra into an era of beast speaks to as sense of him wanting to elevate his people, and a naivety to the danger of his ambitions.

[hannahsmusings]

Jackson

*Jackson’s entire body heated up at the intimate nickname, you having called him that once before during the blackout and he blamed it on the liquor and lack of proper food in your system, but he knew now that it was just a nickname that you chose, something private and intimate ofr the two of you, knowing you’d never say that nickname in front of anyone else to preserve his own ego and he wanted to kiss you so damn bad right now, the urge stronger than he had ever felt before, wanting to show you how such a small thing mattered to him so much, never experiencing this sort of intimacy with anyone else in his life* *his eyes were still stormy as he continued gazing into your eyes, the blue only darkening as that wave of emotions ashes over your face, knowing you were thinking about him and how he had betrayed you tonight, his body tensing at the thought of you going back to him after all of this, not knowing how he would cope with that information* *his jaw tightens and he shakes his head as you say it would be the same, knowing it wouldn’t be, knowing if he was the one who was punched, the fight in Jackson would’ve taken over and Matt would’ve been laid out cold but the fact that you were hurt, Jackson wanted to pummel Matt into the ground and hope that the paramedics got to him in time* *his face softens just a bit as he realizes the heaviness of your words, if he was the one who was hurt, you’d be hurt… his heart stuttered in his chest and he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to control himself, that same urge from the kitchen the night of the blackout looming over him again, needing to kiss you and feel you and fucking love you because that’s what you deserved and he was realizing that’s what he deserved too* No one should of been hurt tonight… but especially not you. And especially not by him. *his tone was soft but his eyes were as bright and stormy as ever as he felt a magnetic pull to you, not even noticing the car had stopped in front of the manor, desperate to lean in and claim you as his own, the only thing breaking him from his trance was the sound of Martin clearing his throat, his eyes finally ripping from you and looking into the front seat*

*Martin was aware that neither Jackson nor Hannah remembered that he was in the car at all, trying to be as quiet as possible as the two of them spoke words with their eyes that they were both too terrified to say out loud* *he didn’t want to interrupt the moment but it didn’t seem to register to either of them that the car had stopped, clearing his throat as quietly as he could, giving Jackson an apologetic look in the rearview* I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but we’re at the manor. Would you like a moment?

*Jackson looked out the darkened windows, shocked that he didn’t even notice the car had stopped, so focused on you and nearly forgotten his own whereabouts* No, Martin, we’ll get out now. Thank you. *he looks back at you, reluctantly dropping his hand and his gaze as he focuses back on the kit, closing it up and tucking it back into it’s spot before looking back at you* Lets get you inside so we can put a proper ice pack on that and get your room set up.. *he slides out of the car when Martin opens the door, reaching his hand in and waiting for you to take it so he could help you out, that warmth from your hand rushing through him and steadying him like it always did*

___________________________________________________

*there was something different in your gaze, something there and it was gradually flickering, flaring up a little when you looked at me and it made my heart race, feeling the more I got to know you the easier you were to read but that look, it was heavy, and meaningful and I knew if I tried to label it I’d come up short, not wanting to look away as a thickness settles around us* *body warms with longing as I watch your face soften at my words, realising in that moment how much I meant it, I cared about you deeply and the thought of you being hurt made my stomach clench with fear, hand twitching as it holds yours and suddenly feeling breathless and light as I look up at you, overwhelmed by this yearning to be closer to you* *breath hitches at your words, so much meaning in them, my heart pounding loudly in my chest and my thumb gently swiping your palm as I hold it, tingles shuddering down my spine as my gaze drops to your lips, realising I wanted more in this moment, I wanted to kiss you and the realisation hit me like a ton of bricks, the weight of my want for you was undeniable, reeling from it before Martin is clearing his throat the the moment shatters, cheeks flooding with heat as I let go of your hand and look up at him in the rear view*  Thank you Martin, for coming so quickly. *whispers shyly, offering him a smile before looking back at you as Martin gets out to open your door, taking your hand and feeling immediately anchored as I hold it for support and step out, looking from your hand to your face in total bewilderment, everything feeling different now I’d realised how I felt* *turns to Martin, thanking him again* Have a nice night. *says to him, smiling and noticing his kind smile back before I continue to hold your hand as you lead me up the cobblestones to your house, suddenly feeling nervous as this wasn’t a work visit*

[akileiaa]

So yesterday I binged Shadow and Bone S2 and now I’ve gathered some thoughts on it. Warning, there are spoilers ahead!!

They really speedrunned trough Siege and Storm, Ruin and Rising and big parts of the Six of Crows duology, huh? I did not expect that to happen, but I actually didn’t mind it much. I’ve read all the books, but it’s been awhile with original trilogy and honestly I don’t remember much about them, just the key points and I think they nailed those. I’m actually kind of glad Apparat wasn’t there, because I don’t particularly like him.

That said, the season did feel very rushed and I’m kinda sad we didn’t get to see white haired Alina. And I still don’t know how I feel about Alina not losing her powers at the end and staying with Nikolai. And Mal becoming privateer.

Also I didn’t like how the ”Mal is the firebird” thing was revealed. Literally the moment when Baghra asked Mal to come with her when they were in the workshop, I knew she was gonna tell him. Idk something about it just annoyed me and it was very convenient that there happened to be door that only the certain bloodline could open.

Now for the part I care most about, the Crows.

Jesper was delightfully Jesper, Kit Young did so good again!! Also Jesper in a skirt and wearing said skirt into battle?? Yes please! He really slayed!! At first I didn’t even notice he was wearing a skirt and then suddenly I was like “is that a skirt he is wearing?? Amazing!!” It was a fantastic look on him. Props to costume department!

I also loved Jack Wolfe as Wylan, he is such a good casting for the role. Wylan was lovely and him and Jesper were so cute, although I didn’t like the bit they added, that they knew each other prior because they had hooked up. But the Wesper scenes were still amazing, even if their relationship felt rushed.

About Wylan though, in the books he was so careful to not let anyone know he can’t read and in the show he acted like Jesper was supposed to know?? (Or at least that’s the impression I got?) Like what?? They didn’t go much into his backstory this season, I guess they saved it for the next season if that happens.

Also I didn’t expect them to reveal Jesper’s powers so early in the season. Things just kept being revealed and at some point I was thinking like calm down show, it’s okay to build suspense and make the viewer guess first before laying it all on the open.

I was also shocked that they went into Kaz’s backstory so quickly, but they did do it well. It was as sad and terrifying as it was in the books. Poor Kaz.

Kaz taking down Pekka Rollings was another thing that felt really rushed, it didn’t have the same pay off it had in the books, because there really wasn’t much build up to it. In the duology, there was basically almost two books worth of build up to the point when Kaz finally took Pekka Rollings down at the end of the second book. In the show it happened too fast and too easy and then it didn’t really feel like Pekka Rollings was defeated.

Then there was Kaz and Inej. Mostly they were okay. At first I was excited when Inej said the quote from the books (“I will have you without your armor, Kaz Brekker. Or I won’t have you at all.”). But now a bit later I think it was too soon for that to happen. Their relationship wasn’t on the right place yet for that to happen. Then Inej went with Mal and the crew and I hated the suggestive camera angels with Tolya helping her get on. Please no. Just no.

Speaking of Tolya, I liked him and Tamar. I just wanted more Tamar and Nadia. Please I need more wlw!!

Almost everything else felt rushed, but some reason nothing really happened with Matthias and Nina. I guess next season they are going to break Matthias out of the prison to do the Ice court heist.

At first I was exited that they hinted on doing the heist and jurda parem thing next season, but now I really don’t know how that’s going to work. They have used so much of the plot of the duology already and I just ugh. I guess we’ll see what happens if there is season 3.

I really just want a separate Six of Crows tv-show that follows the plot of the duology, with no Shadow and Bone trilogy stuff on the side. The duology is so good and it would be so cool as a tv-show!! I know there is some kind of Soc spinoff in the works, so maybe?

[deeptrashwitch]

Part five! Corporal Noah García!

The Beggining (part 5)

That night Jackson went back to the kitchen to clean his cup, but as he did noticed a silouette across the sofa, asleep since he couldn't hear anything. When he saw who it was a shiver run down his spine, was the Captain and he tried not to yield and run away. Even if some months have passed, he still doesn't feel comfortable being in the same room as her, just if some of the others is there.

The silence was heavy as he tried to get out, but the sight of water boiling near stopped him. He frowned before turn off the stove, she was making tea? That's odd, as far as he know she never drank tea. Then noticed the archive over the table and how some notes were written in post-its.

-So this was what you were doing-mumbled as he read the notes

Before he even could move, the sound of the women moving over the sofa made him froze. Surprisingly she wasn't awake, on the contrary, she was deep asleep. Jackson was about to laugh at himself, fucking fear, fucking childhood of his, it was making his life so difficult.

Then he noticed how Alicia started to mumble absolutely terrified and that called his attention. Wasn't english, either arabic or chinese, he couldn't understand more than names. The one that was repeated the most was Carabalí.

Never heard of them.

But his training and vocation kicked in when he saw how in the middle of her sleep she was digging her nails in her skin. A layer of cold sweat ran through her face, which was hot red, as she frowned in fear. He rushed to her in an attempt to stop her to make herself any more harm or that she started to move around the base.

Almost half an hour later she woke up. She gasped and straightened while covered her face with a hand as her heartbeat was running. Alicia didn't remember what she dreamed, but the sensation...she knew it awfully well.

-Shit, it happened again-muttered with a mix of rage and shame

-It sounds like this is usual-said Jackson from the door frame

-...How long have you been there?-asked with a sigh

-Long enough to get worried about you

-At least an hour then

-That's a way to say it

He went and poured the hot water into two cups and made the tea. Didn't say anything as he left the cups on the table and reached for the first aid kit they kept there just in case.

-Come, I need to take care of your arms

-My arms?

-Haven't you noticed? I'm surprised-commented before pointing to the bruised arms, which had some small blood lines appearing

-Ah, you mean this, leave it, it's nothing

-Bullshit, you made me came here to take care of your health and damn if this doesn't classify as my work

-I never made you do a thing, Blackwell, you decided

-Still, you get my point, are you gonna come? The tea is getting cold and my patience is running low

Alicia scoffed but went to the table and sat near Jackson, who started to treat the little wounds. They didn't say anything to eachother while the blonde just mumbled to himself as he treated the wounds. Once that was figured out they stood in silence, only drinking tea without a noise.

-May I ask how often this happen?

-A lot, what about you? Usual insomnia?

-Unforunately...who's this?

-Our next member, demolition expert-answered Alicia drinking tea-the name's Noah García, SEAL Team 5, just came back from Japan

As they were talking, in other part of the country Luke and Edward were arriving to Naval Base Coronado in California, with tha red-haired one coming back to his senses after a moment of dissociation. Not long after they saw how the Captain's contact went to guide them where the SEAL Team was coming their extra training in Yokosuka.

-Another SEAL? Do you have something with us?

-Negative, I just need the best, and if they are from different branches then I'll have soldiers from different branches

The contact called a brown-skinned men with green eyes, some moles and dark brown hair. He nodded and followed the Lieutenant and the Admiral inside while the Sergeant just decided to stay with the helicopter for now. As they did with the others and the Captain did with himself, they went to a conference room.

Soon the Admiral left since he still busy, leaving the both of them inside while Luke read the archive of this one, impressive. Just a minute later he started to talk.

-Is that so?

-Michaelis hasn't told you? He's a Ranger, I'm a Raider and Eager is part of the 101st

-Yet you don't have one from the Air Force

-Just wait and see

-If you say so, anyway, where are Jackson and Michaelis? I haven't see them-said a bit uncomfortable, but shook his head before going back to his tea

-They went for García, they might arrive to Coronado soon enough if they haven't already

Inside the conference room, Noah nodded as he heard the offering while he felt curiosity about this Captain, but remained silent for now. His eyes were filled of steel and even then he asked for time to think, which Luke obliged a bit amused as how similar was his look was to Alicia's. He gave him two days to decide and if he accept, he'll have to go to Black Tomb. Like that, they shook their hands and the Ranger went back with Edward.

Until they're able to go they have the two days, so Michaelis decided to treat the pilot to something to eat. He got surprised when he smiled and nodded, to which he laughed silently.

-Why didn't you go?

-I have to see other recruit, another Ranger

-Please tell me he's not assigned to Fort Hood...

-Oh c'mon! I'm not that bad of a Captain!

-Where?

-Fort Hamilton

-New York, long trip without Eager

-What can I say? We'll have to take a plane-said as she smiled bitterly

-We?

The only response of her was giving him other archives, about the sixth member of the team. At first he didn't noticed what she meant but once he read carefully, he just raised an eyebrow and looked to her.

-Now you get why I want you to go with me?

-Fuckin' bastard...-muttered with horror-how long has he...?

-Endured it? As far as I know, since he entered his team, two years ago

-We'll need a psychiatrist to help him with this

-I was thinking the same, can you give me a name?

-I have an old acquaintance, I'll ask him-said firmly before growling-what are you gonna do with the other?

-Sink him

-Cannot believe I'll say this, but Captain, if it's needed please use your rank and burn this son of a bitch to the ground

-That's the plan-she said coldly before standing up and go cleaning the cup-for now take a rest, Jackson, you'll need it

-Seems like it

After that they went to take a rest for the night, but Jackson felt nauseous as he read it again. And some days later both of them went to the yard to recieve their new member. He just smiled and shook Alicia's hand while he introduced himself, then she introduced herself and Jackson.

-Welcome to Black Tomb, Corporal García-said the Captain with a smile-and welcome to our team

-Thanks for the opportunity-answered him calmly-I hope I can meet the standars

-I'm sure you will, for now let's go to your workshop

She showed him the workshop Wraith gave them for the demolition expert, and just laughed silently when the green-eyed SEAL smiled. Then pat his shoulder before going to one their hangars, where she found Luke working on one of their vehicles with background music. Once more she knocked on the door and nodded when the red-haired came out, cleaning his hands as he got up.

-Something that I can help you with, Captain?

-Not really, just wanna talk-said as she shrugged-is it fine?

-Yeah sure, can you help me then? Just pass me the tools

-Will do

-So, what do you want to talk about?-asked when he was back below the car

-We'll have another member, a Ranger

-Oh, that's interesting

-Yeah but, oh boy...poor guy

-Huh?

-His Sergeant is scumbag

-How bad is he?

-Enough to make it illegal, and punible with years in jail

-...Go on

-Sexual assault

-HE DID WHAT?!-screamed furiosly when he heard that, looking at his Captain

-Yeah, I thought the same, but keep it down Michaelis-hissed with a frown-I'll lead with it

-What are you gonna do? Fuckin' reprimand him? He need to get his shit beat out of him!

-Lieutenant Michaelis!

-...Sorry

-I said, I'll lead with that jerk in a legal way, but I assure you...that Sergeant will pay for landing a hand on ANY soldier he had on charge

-Why are you telling me this?-asked while his hands were trembling of anger

-Tomorrow Blackwell and I will go to Fort Hamilton to evaluate the mental state of this Corporal-said with a sigh-if he accept to be part of the team and Wraith approve him, I want you to take care of him. The triggers, the memories, take care of it and ask Jackson when you can't lead with it. Can I trust you?

-Why me?

-You're capable, Luke, and from my perspective you care for our team as deep as I do. If I'm asking this, it's because of my opinion of you, Can. I. Trust. You?

The Ranger bit his cheek from the inside, but sighed and nodded, worried sick for this new member. Alicia smiled a bit and just stayed there for a while before going out, walking back to the offices and stopping when found Noah outside smoking.

-Tired, García?-asked when was near him

-Not quite, but I heard the ruckus 'bout the other Corporal, ma'am-answered closing his eyes-is a Ranger, isn't he?

-Yes, he is

-May I ask his name?

-Elijah Wilson

-Fuck...

-You know him?

-We were on a mission together, poor kid, he doesn't have any kind of self-esteem but he hides it

-Anything else?

-Scaredy cat, but just with his Sergeant, in that moment his Corporal, and that one was a complete bastard

-I've heard about it

-But is a good one, kind, loyal, skilled...if only I could have helped him that time

-What do you mean?

-I saw the bruises, wanted to do something, he said no, I talked to his Captain, his Lieutenant and his Sergeant at the moment, they did nothing and he started to avoid me...should've told to my Captain or the Admiral

She didn't answered but her eyes were filled with murderous rage, yet sighed again and put a hand over Noah's shoulder.

-We'll go for him, and this time they'll pay even if have to do the unspeakable to make it happen

-...Why? Why would you do that?

-You're my team, my people, and let's say I've had enough with this kind of shit

-Seems deeper than that

-Maybe one day I'll tell you, but not today

-...

-Take a rest, your training starts tomorrow under Lieutenant Michaelis order, and he'll go hard on you-said before walk back inside

-Thank you Captain-whispered without looking her

[lynnsinlovewithleo]

Fire and Nightmares

Fire and Nightmares is a story about the unlikeliness of friends, a Romanian Zburator, and an awkward transgender bean. Mistakes were made, wrongs need to be corrected and how do they do that? By causing infinite chaos at any and all points in time. Join the duo as they try to figure how the hell they ended up in this situation.

Chapter 1

Don’t Read Random Latin

Slapping some sense into an immortal, supernatural creature when you’re half their size probably isn’t a great idea. But in this case, it was well deserved and very much needed. Let’s take a step back and explain what the hell I’m talking about. It was Tuesday afternoon and I have an intense love for late-night shenanigans, so I was scouring my local bookstores and typical occult shops to find something I could use to scare the shit out of my friends later that evening. After stumbling upon this shop on the corner of the street named “Spooky Scary Screeching” It was weird as hell but my intrigue was piqued and I ended up purchasing this old book filled with creepy Latin sayings. Anything sounds terrifying if you light a bunch of candles, sit in the dark, and speak with a creepy voice. Bonus points if it’s in another language. I had a plan to do some freaky stuff to my less-than-faithful friends, I wasn’t planning on summoning a demon, nor did I plan on everyone canceling on me but I suppose life likes to punch me in the gut and laugh hysterically later. 

Hi, my name is Kit Langton and I accidentally summoned a demon due to improper pronunciation of an old Latin saying in a creepy $5 book. What even. 

***

Having been absolutely mortified by the creature that emerged from my freaking wall, the obvious thing to do was to throw various objects at it while screaming. The further it came out of the wall, the taller and larger I realized it was, and stumbled over, scrambling away from the glowing and sparking monster. Literal sparks were jumping off its skin and a not-so-very ominous neon purple glow emitting from all around it. By the time I noticed all of this, I had scooted myself against my kitchen island, just left in complete shock. The creature had finally emerged, looking just as confused and horrified as me. It appeared to be male, at least… some obvious assets would lead me to think that. The male-presenting creature opened its mouth, speaking in a language with a heavy and thick accent that I didn’t recognize, “Cine esti si ce vrei?”

I said nothing and continued to stare fearfully. He cocked his head curiously and moved forward, seemingly cautiously as if I was a wild animal he didn’t want to frighten. Again, he spoke gentler this time, “Numele meu este Lucian, de ce m-ai chemat?”

I had no idea what he was saying or what language he was even speaking but didn’t seem evil or anything. Then again, I was probably just delusional. Regardless, I mustered up some courage to respond despite having zero clue as to what was happening. “Uh…Hi? I have no idea what you're saying but, uh, where the hell did you come from and why are you here? Are you a man?” I gasped loudly, “Are you a demon? Did I summon you? What’s your name? Do you speak English?” 

The being held up a hand as if telling me to stop talking. He then took a deep breath and spoke, “I am Lucian. You summoned me. Why?” 

I was so entranced with how he spoke, so formal and velvety, it was as if manly musk could talk. Beautiful soothing and smooth. I finally registered that he had four eyes(?) I think he had eyes, they were all pitch black and staring me down. His head tilted curiously like he was asking ‘Well?’ I cleared my throat, a quiver in my voice, “I- don't know? I just wanted to read this book and then, yknow, my wall started glowing and contorting then here you were.” Lucian didn’t look too thrilled to hear that. He was looking rather annoyed with me for not even knowing what I did. I stared quizzically, prompting him to further explain the meaning of this situation and what it meant for me. He wasn't very enlightening. I spread my arms and gestured at him, urging him to acknowledge me with a, “So…?” 

“So what? You’ve inconvenienced me and my valuable time by not being structurally sound or smart enough to at least look up what you were attempting to read,” I opened my mouth to protest. Still, he continued, “Your idiocy to read out loud has caused me to appear and serve this scrawny, irritatingly small, and annoying boy-? Girl? Whatever! Now I must treat this as a contract even though you have no idea what you’ve just done! You fucked up everything, you- risipă insuportabilă de spațiu!”

I wasn’t too sure what he said in that last sentence of his but my body shivered with rage, causing my fists to clench and shake with the seething anger oozing off of me. Being misgendered and insulted in my own home by an asshole demon acting as if he’s all high and mighty just because he’s immortal and powerful, though that’s exactly why he’d act like this, that’s what I would do if I were him. I swallowed back my anger, leaving a lump in its wake as I rose from my spot on the floor, straightening myself to my full height and approaching this intimidating creature but at this point, I didn’t give a damn about this entitled immortal asshole. Mustering up all my courage, I yanked the fool by the collar of his flamboyant purple and gold suit, making him face me head-on before swinging my hand back and bringing it with full force until it made contact with his face. The sound of impact from the slap rang throughout the kitchen, filling the room with stinging silence.

“You-” I huffed furiously, “-have some goddamn nerve!” Anger washed over me in intense waves that I couldn’t breathe, hot tears following suit in my outrage, the streams streaking my cheeks. The male was taken aback with surprise, parting his lips to get a word, but I interrupted, just as he previously did to me, “No! You don't get to speak. You don’t get to insult me, in my home, to my face, and expect me to allow you to speak over me.”  Lucian stared with shock plastered to his face, a ripple of concern passed over his expression for a split second, whether it was a concern for me or himself, I had no idea nor did I care and that didn’t stop me from continuing to rip his ass apart, “Before you even think about saying anything, know this demon scum, I will smack and bitch slap you as many times necessary until you learn to change your damn tone. I will make you suffer and cause you far more pain than anything in Hell could inflict if you continue to disrespect me. Ya got that, Lucian?” My words were laced with venom and my hand lifted once again, serving the demon another well-deserved slap to the face, mostly for fun but also as a warning. 

“Hristos woman!” He shouted as he backed away from me, holding his cheek protectively. 

That little comment earned him another slap, this time on the other cheek, “I am NOT a woman!” Tears pricked at my eyes momentarily but they faded rather quickly due to my rising rage. I reached my arm up and grasped one of the demon’s protruding horns, forcefully yanking him down to meet me at eye level, and seethed, “Say that shit again and I will gut you. This is your final warning to not test me, do you understand, hellspawn?” If I didn’t know any better, Lucian seemed to be struggling against me, desperate to get out of my grip. Maybe his horns were sensitive or fragile? Either way, I didn’t care, I just wanted to get my point across. He hadn’t answered so I added an extra yank as a way to tell me he understood. “Okay! Alright!” He shouted, his voice slightly wavering so I took that as a hint to loosen my hold and begrudgingly let him go, wiping my hand excessively on my shorts in an attempt to be rid of him. He stood up straight and cleared his throat, “Hell, you have a grip on you… I’m sorry, but you haven’t exactly introduced yourself so how am I supposed to know who or even what you are? You certainly look female… are you sure you’re not a woman? You made a womanlike mistake, you don’t even know what you’ve done!” 

“So what I don’t know what’s going on but then again, you scared the shit out of me and insulted me! You haven’t been jumping to explain anything!”

“I said I was sorry!”

“Shut up! I’m not done,” I took a breath and continued to introduce myself properly, “My name is Kit. I’m a 25-year-old teacher and part-time theatre attendant. I am a man. A man that will not hesitate to cut you.”

Lucian rubbed at his face and indeed in acknowledgment of my words, which finally put me at ease, glad that we came to an understanding regarding our predicament. As if this nonsense wasn't weird enough, he went on to explain that he was a type of demon known as a “Zburator”. A vampiric creature from Romanian folklore. They’re usually described as a winged and handsome young man with black eyes and hair, though his hair is more like auburn. Zburators look like shooting stars as they fly across the sky. At night, the zburator visits women, has sexual intercourse with them, and drains off some of their life energy with each visit, leaving them ill, pale, and thin. Regardless, I was in deep shit. I had smacked him! Not once, not twice, but THREE times, each one harder than the last! If there was ever a bad time to be me, it was now. 

Lord knows how I’m going to get myself out of this.