#like the fortress is his home even if he was originally sent there as a criminal

[chronosdawn]

Absolutely losing my mind over the thought of Wriothesley being like: "I don't want to keep you caged here, so instead I'll leave the door open and just hope you keep coming back."

[emacrow]

Danny had a very rough week of not sleeping....

Five days straight of non stop ghost hunting, barely focusing on whatever their parents new inventions were and sabotaging them..

Then Saturday began...

There was skulker with him, ghostnapping and chasing him at 12am in the morning to 3:20am in some new extravagant hunting ground in the ghost zone which ended up backfiring on him later when it wasn't even his hunting ground as the original ghost owner started chasing skulker.

Then there was Johnny and kitty argument and dragging him along as an unwillingly victim because johnny was flirting with some ghost girl as he was trying to fly back to his family portal around 4am.

Accidentally crashing into Youngblood ship who rather excited to play again for the 28th this week and it fucking Saturday man..

He finally back home at 10am.. only to noticed that his parents left him to go on some honeymoon field trip since Jazz was in gotham for her collage and part time job as a assistant turned into a full time therapist in Arkham because she actually got a break through with Scarecrow with his childhood trauma and the Arkham are still flabbergasted by her abilities and immediately slapped her a full time sponsorship.

He tries to go back to sleep only to get notifications at 11:03am from tucker that Techno and Vortex teaming to cause a full blown out town wreacking havoc with a literally tornado dragging machines into it for some grand plan which was a fucking pain in his ass because his thermo also got caught in it.

Danny is dragging himself back to his bed after souping both Techno and Vortex, flopping onto his bed to finally catch those zzz when it about 6:29pm

Only for fucking Vlad to start his own bullshit with a new invention.

Danny is about to fucking snap at this point, vlad doesn't know what he released over a week of sleep deprived danny.

Maybe because how tired he was at that moment to not noticed the ray gun that vlad had looked oddly like the one his parents were making yesterday only to get hit by it directly...

Only to noticed he not in his bed anymore..

He was in snow.. iced cold snow in the middle of freezing temperatures and near some icy like palace..

He could cry right now..

He thought he got sent to the Far Frozen, welp this would be a great spot to take some much needed sleep. His mind is too muddle right now to even takea glance on small his form is now at the moment.

Flying a bit loopy through the icy palace, not noticing humaniod like giant crystallized statues with a S on their chests blinking some kind of alarm.

Making himself right at home as he made a nice snow like fluffy blankey that Frostbite once taught him whenever he went through his daily shots and stay the night there..

Drifting off to sleep finally with the sound of the silence..

He was already too far gone into unconscious to be awakened at this point..

Unaware that his presence brought alert to a certain Superhero.

Whom found a tiny little boy in the Fortress of Solitude, sleeping peacefully like the dead despite his heart beating very very slowly to health concerning matter.

Trying to wake him up only brought him a tiny punch to a face so hard and fast that it actually hurt him.

Which made Clark froze as he realized that punch actually hurted...

Which brought a major misunderstanding that slowly became a much bigger one later on in the dna scanner.

[cattimeswithjellie]

Secret Life was great because every perspective on it is so fresh, you can watch just about everybody without even getting bored. Even in the finale, where everybody had the same secret, the plot unfolds like a flower, where you understand more of what actually happened the more you watch.

I just happened to watch Scar's episode first, which was a great place to start obviously because I got the basic story of the finale from beginning to end, and of course it was a wild ride! But there was so much left unknown, so many friends and enemies fallen without knowing what happened to them, so many plots unspooling outside of Scar's POV. In the end we were left with the same question he had: How did the guy with no friends win the game?

Part of the answer, of course, was obvious. Scar was absolutely on fire in Session 9, scoring an astonishing number of permakills and racking up the hearts to offset his recklessness. I'm not sure he quite realized the banger strategy he fell into by rushing in and just soaking damage while bashing his opponent to death, then using the ten hearts to repair the damage over and over again, but boy was it effective!

Beyond Scar himself, though, was a massive plot throughline that was only partially visible from his POV, and that was the loyalty the previous winners had to their teams above themselves. With the exception of Martyn, whose partner was lost two sessions ago, each previous Games winner had their own alliance and eventually their own favored player that they wanted to win.

Scott's loyalty to the Cherry Blossoms made their home into a fortress and Gem into a powerhouse partially fueled by his own life energy. She's a hell of a player on her own merits and tore a wide swath through the server in a brilliant first outing, but without Scott convincing Impulse to give her both their yellow lives, she would not have survived the combined effects of Grian's two ambushes to make her way into the final three. Along the way, the Cherry Blossoms took out both Bdubs and Joel, the two players who were Pearl's and who would otherwise have had her loyalty to the end of the line.

Grian's loyalty to the Roomies alliance was always more questionable than Scott's, because he is who he is, but he came through in the end and sent Cleo out of the portal cave while remaining behind to take on the near-suicidal task of triggering the explosion. And when he was discovered, he attempted to 1v3 the Cherry Blossoms to give his teammate more time to escape. (And it probably would've worked, if the remaining Mounders and Scar had not found Cleo and run her to ground at the same time.) Grian's last stand was perhaps the most pivotal moment in the late game because it changed the whole balance of power on the server. Scar never knew why Scott, Gem and Impulse were so much weaker than they were supposed to be at the end of the game, but we the audience know.

And of course Pearl's loyalty is unquestionable, even if by the end of the game, all the original targets for it were gone. Pearl proved herself a Mounder, bred and buttered (as they said in my neck of the woods.) She was quite wary of letting Scar into the alliance at all, but she is loyal and more interested in helping her team to victory than in taking a second crown for herself. Scott and Gem killed her guys before the end of the line, but she still had Scar, and she was still loyal to the end.

And thus the man with no friends wound up on the other side of a fight he'd already lived through four games ago, fighting an ally who didn't want to win for a victory he wasn't sure he deserved. But there's an important difference that I'm sure we'll be spending the entire rest of the series downtime dissecting: this time the victor _lived._

[soul-eater-novel]

Suikoden I Soul Eater Light Novel Translation - Chapter 19: The Invincible General

For your reading pleasure and enjoyment, below the cut is the full rough English translation of chapter 19 of the official 1998 Suikoden I Soul Eater novel (volume 2 of 3). Individual page translations and original Japanese text can be found in the chapter 19 tag.

Chapter 19: The Invincible General 

The Liberation Army rushed to respond to the news of the Imperial Army’s invasion. Once Tir and the others had rescued a minstrel named Kasios and a painter called Ivanov from the ruined castle, the Liberation Army marched out on the double. 

The only information they had to go on was what Stallion brought them from headquarters. According to him, the Imperial Army was traveling overland through the Arus region—home to the capital���and was headed south. It would soon pass through the Kwaba Fortress. 

While moving their troops back to the Garan checkpoint, Mathiu had also intermittently sent out scouts to collect detailed information on the Imperial Army’s every move. They had not yet reported back on who was leading the force in question, which did not give Tir any peace of mind. 

Sonya Shulen’s Imperial Navy forces would never take a land route. And if it were Kasim Hazil’s army, they would come in from the west of Lake Toran through the northern checkpoint that connects the Kunan  region with the Senan region, where Kasim’s Moravia castle is located. 

Which means that this Imperial force on the move is either the first regiment, led by His Majesty himself from the central empire, or it’s the third regiment... led by my father, Teo McDohl.  

Filled with anxiety, they rode across the plains until they were in sight of the checkpoint. A scout immediately came galloping out on horseback. Mathiu was the first to meet him. He hailed the scout. “What news of the Imperial Army?” 

The scout rode over to Mathiu and saluted. “Sir! The Imperial Army passed through the Kwaba Fortress and has taken control of Seika. They are now nearing the town of Kaku.” He turned to Tir. “Also, Lord Tir...”

Tir’s heart pounded in his chest, but he composed himself and replied calmly. “What is it?”

“One of the reasons I rode here so quickly is because there is a visitor who has come to see you on urgent business. We asked her to await you in the checkpoint meeting hall. Would you like to meet with her, m’lord?”

“Hmm... a visitor? Who could that be?” wondered Mathiu aloud. 

“She is called Kasumi,” answered the scout, “and she hails from the hamlet of Rokkaku. When Teo McDohl’s amy traveled from the north to the south, they launched a surprise attack on Rokkaku, so she came to request assistance from the Liberation Army.”

“Wh-what?!” cried Tir, shocked. 

Mathiu, however, was as calm and composed as ever. “I see... the hidden village Rokkaku is a place where ninja gather and I have heard they have long resisted the Empire. That alone is reason enough. Please tell her we will meet with her shortly.”

“Yes, sir!” 

Mathiu made to follow after the scout as the latter turned to go back to the checkpoint. But Tir just stared out past the flowing waters of the Dunan river, dumbfounded. He gazed east, in the direction of the Goran region, not moving a muscle. 

Noticing that Tir hadn’t come with him, Mathiu reined his horse in and trotted back to his side. The look he gave Tir was relentless. “Lord Tir... I understand how you must feel. But you knew this day would come.”

Of course, Mathiu was right. Tir had known when he became the leader of the Liberation Army that  there might come a day when he would have to fight his own father. 

But he had thought that, surely, he would be able to find a way to avoid it. That was precisely why he had been able to continue to fight the Empire. Even if the chance was slight, he had still held out hope. 

Now that the day was drawing near, however, he could no longer escape the fact of reality. The unease in his breast turned to doubt and hesitation as he realized he would have to make his decision, and soon. 

“Lord Tir...” Mathiu murmured. 

“Yes, I know,” Tir replied sadly. 

The young leader and his tactician charged at full speed side by side on their steeds toward the Garan checkpoint. 

---

Tir stepped into the checkpoint meeting hall with a heavy heart. A young woman stood waiting there with Sanchez, who had come running from their castle headquarters. 

The woman wore a thin red garment atop chainmail. She watched Tir from behind her gleaming black bangs with what looked like sadness in her eyes. She bobbed her head in a bow. 

“Lord Tir. I am Kasumi, a ninja from the Rokkaku hamlet.”

Tir gazed into her eyes as he responded. “Ms. Kasumi. Forgive me for jumping straight to the point, but could you please tell us in more detail about what precisely happened when your village was attacked?”

“Yes, certainly.”

In her low, quiet voice, Kasumi began to tell the story of how Teo’s army had attacked. Not only had Teo’s forces been armed to the teeth, but their ranks included the Gulhorse—the armored cavalry said to be the strongest in the Empire. 

The Gulhorse are beasts outfitted in iron armor of their own, and the riders are also clad in armor and helmets. The creatures stand upon two well-developed hind legs and use their large tails to maintain their balance. 

Their bodies are covered in fur such a rich color of brown it is nearly black. They can race across fields at the same speed as a horse, but their physical strength and ability to jump far exceeds a horse’s. The Gulhorse’s bodies are sturdy; one ramming attack from a Gulhorse can send two regular horses flying.  

Their only flaw is their lack of stamina, but their opponents are usually completely destroyed by the time the Gulhorses begin to tire. Since Gulhorses were known to be so difficult to use, Teo was the only one of the five imperial generals to incorporate them into his forces. 

While Kasumi spoke, the leaders who had heard the news began to gather in the room. 

“So it’s come to this…” Cleo said, folding her arms. 

“You mean I’m gonna have to fight Lord Teo…?” muttered Pahn, a complicated expression on his face. 

Viktor and Flik were both astonished at the threat the armored cavalry units posed. Tir listened to Kasumi in shocked silence. The most vital piece of information he gleaned from Kasumi’s tidings was his father’s intentions. 

Father really is serious about fighting us.

Kasumi looked around at everyone present, then continued. “When it looked very likely that our village would be defeated, our leader Hanzo ordered me to convey this information to the Liberation Army. And since Teo’s army has begun moving south, I fear that my village and my comrades are…”

Kasumi stopped herself from finishing that sentence and took a breath. She looked Tir right in the eye. “Lord Tir… nothing more can be done for my village. But if the Liberation Army gets destroyed now, then who will put a stop to the Empire? Please, Lord Tir, you must stop Teo McDohl’s army somehow. It may not be much, but I would lend my own strength to fight in the coming battle.” Kasumi knelt in front of him. 

Tir was unable to speak.  

I know we’re fighting against the Empire’s injustices for the sake of everyone who has suffered at their hands. I know that, but…

The second scout Mathiu had sent out came running into the room. “Lord Tir, Lord Mathiu!”

“What is it?” Mathiu responded immediately. “Has something happened?”

“The Imperial Army has already gained total control of Kouan and is headed this way now. It’s only a matter of time before they arrive…”

“What?!”

Mathiu, Tir, and everyone else was momentarily struck speechless. Even Viktor lowered his voice. “What are we gonna do, eh, Tactician?” 

Mathiu thought for a moment, and then answered. “They boast that General Teo’s cavalry units are invincible. There is no way our forces can hope to match them, no matter what strategy we employ.” 

“So then where does that leave us?” Flik asked. 

“We must retreat to our castle headquarters at once. The armored cavalry are at their best when they can run freely—namely, on the open fields. Luckily, our base happens to be in the middle of a lake. Let’s hole up in our castle and buy more time to come up with a better plan.”

“But the Empire has Sonya Shulen and her navy,” noted Lepant. “Even if the armored cavalry is taken out of the picture, we can’t rest easy.”

“That has not escaped me. However, General Sonya’s Imperial Navy and the lake pirates who run rampant on Lake Toran have been at each other’s throats for years. If someone were to send notice to the pirates that the General is on her way, their interference would likely provide her with some distraction.” Mathiu quickly gave the order to retreat. 

Tir and the others hastily made their preparations as well and soon the entire army had evacuated Garan Checkpoint. Unfortunately, no matter how they hurried, it would take at least half a day to reach the shore where their boats were anchored. 

The general sense of anxiety and unease mounted as the Liberation Army marched forward. Then, just as they were about to arrive at the shore, several men on horseback came galloping over the fields at a breakneck speed. It was the third group of scouts Mathiu had dispatched. “Lord Tir, Lord Mathiu! Bad news! Teo’s army is right on our heels!”

A large cloud of dust could be seen rising into the air over the fields stretching out behind the scouts. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, Tir stared hard at the dust cloud until at last he could make out flashes and sparkles of light here and there among the dust cloud. The armor of the Gulhorses and their riders reflecting the sunlight. 

“How the devil were they able to arrive that quickly?!” Mathiu, clearly flustered, demanded of the two scouts who had just arrived.

“Sir. Teo had the armored cavalry units sent ahead of the main unit. We moved as quickly as we could to warn you, but we can’t compete with their speed…”

“Is that right?” growled Mathiu, sparing a brief glare for the approaching cloud of dust. “Convey these orders to all units at once. Viktor, Flik, and Humphrey’s units gear up and march out first. Kirkis, Ruby, and Lorelai’s archery units will line up directly behind them.”

“Yes, sir!” Saluting, the scouts disappeared into the ranks of the soldiers. 

As the news of the calvary’s impending attack spread, the whole army burst into activity. Mathiu shrewdly prepared for the battle ahead. Viktor’s unit and the other two assembled behind Tir and the others, and the archers in turn gathered behind them. Mathiu ordered Cleo’s unit to attack at will, and Lepant’s group to go into hiding in the forest at the lake shore to prepare the boats for a retreat. 

Perhaps because they were tired from marching day in and day out, only Pahn’s unit of foot soldiers were placed at the very rear, distant from the battle. Tir delivered the orders to Pahn’s unit, telling them to join with Lepant’s group and follow the same path to retreat. The preparations complete, Mathiu ordered the army to maintain that formation and begin their march.

The armored cavalry steadily closed the gap. The approaching rumble of the gulhorses shook the earth and the battle cries of the enemy soldiers split the skies. 

When there were perhaps only three hundred paces left between them, both armies drew to a standstill and stood facing one another. A lone man rode out between the ranks of cavalry, his sword drawn and his golden cape billowing. He was one of the five Imperial generals, known as “the invincible general and victor of one hundred battles”—Teo McDohl.  

So the time has come at last. 

Without meaning to, Tir looked up at the sky. His father’s voice rang out, merciless. “Traitors to the Empire! It doesn’t matter who you are—you will not be tolerated or pardoned.”

Tir forced himself to look at his father. Teo, standing at the head of his army, pointed his sword straight at Tir. “I vow on my name, Teo McDohl, to destroy all of you! Prepare yourselves!”

Tears welled in his eyes. In that instant, something in Tir’s heart broke. “Father…”

Ever since he had heard his father was on the march to attack them, a fierce tempest had been raging in his soul. 

Leading the Liberation Army means fighting the Empire. But I don’t want to fight my own father!

Torn between those two thoughts, when Tir heard his father’s words, he realized his own will in the matter had been cruelly smashed to bits. 

I can never go back from this. 

“Father...” whispered Tir once more but his voice didn’t reach Teo McDohl of the Imperial Army. 

“All units, engage the enemy!” Teo ordered, raising his sword overhead.

Mathiu motioned to his subordinate to wave the flag and their advance unit rushed forward. “We’ll show you the strength of the Liberation Army!” 

The enemy cavalry galloped toward Tir. He stood stock-still, the only person not in motion. Viktor, Flik, and Humphrey’s squads flew past him on both sides, the sound of the horses’ hooves thundering in his ears. 

ーーー

The three Liberation Army advance units fought fiercely, ready to give up their lives in battle. The archers providing support shot arrows until their gloves tore, until blood oozed from their fingers. But even so, they could not break through the defenses of the cavalry led by Teo. 

The gulhorses’ ramming attacks sent many a soldier hurtling down from their steeds. Some lost their lives when they were trampled underfoot while trying to rise, while others died just as they got to their feet, impaled on the ends of the Imperial soldiers’ spears. 

The Liberation Army’s swords were no match for the armor and helmets the Imperial soldiers and their gulhorses wore. The field was littered with the corpses of fallen Liberation Army soldiers. Everyone sustained wounds, commanding generals and soldiers alike. The Liberation Army was completely and utterly defeated. 

Cleo guarded Tir while he retreated and the vanguard covered their tracks, but the armored cavalry were still in close pursuit. 

“Dammit, these bastards are real monsters! Our attacks didn’t even scratch ‘em!!” shouted Viktor bitterly as he retreated from the front lines with his decimated unit—more than half of his soldiers had fallen. 

Tir and Cleo moved their horses further back and then

Lepant appeared out of the forest by the lakeshore. “Lord Tir, over here!” He called, gesturing. “We’ve prepared the boats! Hurry, quickly!”

Glaring at the cloud of dust that heralded the approaching armored cavalry, Mathiu said, “We can do no more here, Lord Tir. We must retreat.”

“But our soldiers are still out there…” 

“Tir, you go on ahead!” Viktor yelled, grimacing from the pain of his injuries. “We’ll take care of the guys left here somehow. So just hurry up and get outta here!”

“Viktor…” The moment Tir began to speak…

“Nwoooooh!”A company of red-faced soldiers appeared behind Tir and the others, yelling at the top of their lungs, charging full-speed ahead. It was Pahn’s foot soldiers, arriving late. 

“Pahn?!” Before Tir could stop him, Pahn was thrust into battle with the armored cavalry. Horrified, Tir shut his eyes tight. But beyond the darkness of his closed eyelids, he could still hear sharp metallic noises and the heartrending screams of the gulhorse. 

He opened his eyes and, to his complete surprise, saw that Pahn and his soldiers were putting up a good fight. When the gulhorses tried to ram them, the foot soldiers just slipped by and attacked the gulhorses’ unprotected feet. 

“So that’s how you beat ‘em…” Cleo murmured under her breath in admiration. “Way to go, Pahn!”

When waging war against the quick gulhorses, the foot soldiers turned out to be more effective than mounted soldiers. The main reason being that mounted soldiers have to synchronize their breathing in time with their horses to do battle. 

If there is a delay of even one second in the transmission of the rider’s will to the horse, then they will be hit head-on by the gulhorse’s ramming attack. 

Footsoldiers, however, only rely on their own reflexes while fighting. No matter how fast gulhorses may be, they can’t keep up with Pahn’s footsoldiers, honed in hand-to-hand combat. 

Furthermore, the gulhorse had been running and fighting constantly up until the point of engaging with Pahn’s men. Their one fault—lack of stamina—played right into Pahn’s hands. 

They wrestled with the armored cavalry for a time and got knocked about but he ran up to Tir in high spirits, checking on the status of the units. “Lord Tir, we’ll hold them off.” Pahn panted. “Please hurry and escape!”

“You can’t do this alone, Pahn,” Cleo retorted. She jerked her chin, indicating the field and beyond. At some point during the battle Teo’s unit had come marching up behind the armored cavalry. “That doesn’t exactly look like a fair fight. You planning on dying today?”

Pahn’s smile was forced as he said, “Not planning on it, no. But if I’m not prepared to die, there’s no way we can stop Lord Teo.”

“Absolutely not, Pahn.” interjected Tir. “I won’t lose you, too.”

“Thank you, Lord Tir.” Pahn said, gazing up at Tir sitting astride his horse. “But you can’t die here today. You’re our leader. Plus…” He smiled suddenly, just for a moment. “We can’t waste the lives Gremio gave us, can we?”

“But that’s…” Tir trailed off, and Pahn continued. “Lord Tir, ever since I met your father I’ve always thought… I want to try going head-to-head with him in battle, just once. Every man wants to surpass those who are stronger than them, right?” 

Pahn laughed. A real laugh this time. Tir felt something stir in his heart, hearing that laugh. “Pahn…” 

“So, Lord Tir, please grant me my selfish request.” Pahn said, gazing at him. Tir stared back at him.

The battle had subsided temporarily, but at that moment the silence was broken by the scream of a soldier. It seemed that Pahn’s soldiers were also beginning to tire. “Now, Lord Tir!” shouted Pahn, sparing a glance for his unit, fallen into chaos. “Hurry!”

“Okay—but don’t you go dying on us, Pahn!”

“Just leave this to me. I’ll be back in time for dinner!”

“You’d better be!” Cleo smiled. 

“Yep!” Pahn plunged back into the fray, his claws held high. 

While Pahn held back the armored cavalry, Cleo, Tir, and all the soldiers they could gather together boarded the boats Lepant had prepared to leave the war-torn Goran region behind. They left the shore in their five boats, believing that Pahn would come back to them. 

ーーー

“Is that Pahn?” Murmured Teo, looking at the one man left standing on the field amid all the corpses. 

By the time Teo’s main unit arrived, the Liberation Army had for the most part succeeded in escaping to the lakeshore forest. Teo eliminated the remaining unit and had his armored cavalry pull back to rejoin the main force. Only Pahn remained, clad in red, drenched in the blood of his enemies. 

Pahn took one step forward. “Lord Teo…” 

Despite losing all of his men, it was clear from his posture that Pahn was still ready and willing to fight. Teo spoke quietly but with firm authority. “Pahn. Do not try to stop us.”

Pahn took one more step toward Teo. “I can’t do that.”

“You would disobey me?” 

Staring at Teo fixedly, Pahn took another step. “I already betrayed Lord Tir once because of my loyalty to the Empire.. But now… now I understand better what I want—how I want to live my life. And now that I understand that, I can’t just go throwing it away.” 

He scowled deeply. Looking into his eyes, Teo understood what Pahn was getting at. “I see.” He let his cape drop and dismounted his horse. “Very well. I never imagined the day would come when I would raise my sword against you, Pahn.”

“Lord Teo!” One of Teo’s commanding officers suddenly threw off his own red cape and galloped over on his horse. It was Alen. “There is no need for you to fight this battle, Lord Teo. Just leave it to me. I’ll take this man’s head.” 

“Enough, Alen,” barked Teo and Alen brought his horse to a halt. 

“But, Lord Teo…” Grenseal had, of course, jumped out to join them as well. 

“I said that’s enough, Alen, Grenseal. Stay your hand.” Teo drew his sword in one fluid movement. Pahn adopted his fighting stance as well, his claws held out at the ready. “All right. No games. This is a real fight.”

“Here I come, Lord Teo!”Pahn ran across the blood-soaked field and leapt straight at Teo.

Teo hurled himself into the wind that stank of blood. 

***

★ Chapters 0-1 ★ Chapters 2-3  ★ Chapters 4-5  ★ Chapters 6-7  ★ Chapters 8-9  ★ Chapters 10-11  ★ Chapters 12-13  ★ Chapters 14-15 ★ Chapters 16 - 17 ★ Chapter 18

«-first // archive // Ramsus-kun Scanslations

[guhamun]

Name: Percival

Class: Lancer

Noble Phantasm: Longinus Count Zero

Species: Human (Servant)

Gender: Cis Male; he/him

Height: 6'4’’ (195 cms)

Alignment: Lawful Good

Origin: Britain

———–

Personality:

+ Protective, loyal, trustworthy, chivalrous

- Can be a bit stubborn, sometimes things fly over his head

A sincere knight who values decorum, he has been described as pure-hearted on occasion. Acting calmly without doubting or losing his temper at others, Percival known well for his patience – a trait that must have been necessary for some of his more bullheaded comrades. Percival is well-liked by children and animals that meet him for the first time, though said person is unaware of this fact. When he was alive, he used to stand in Camelot's garden in the morning sunlight, letting little birds rest on his shoulders and arms.

It is during battle that he shows a harsher side of himself, but this shift is seen only during battle. He frequently fusses over his juniors, especially those younger than him as he has a tendency to take on a more guardian, or to some, big brother-like role. This extends to his fellow Servants as well as the Master whom he wishes to look after with the same tenacity. A genuine soul, Percival values honesty, and as such, does not conceal his thoughts or opinions.

History:

Percival, the Holy Knight of the Dove, was a member of the Knights of the Round Table led by King Arthur, holding the 2nd Seat. There are many tales of Percival’s birth, though if asked about his home, he will casually state that he was raised in a forest by his mother. The details after that are not important – so he would say. What was, was that he came to prove himself worthy of becoming a Knight of the Round Table. Eventually, in time, he embarked on a quest to find the Holy Grail with Sir Galahad and Sir Bors, a quest recalled most fondly by him as he was able to bear witness to its miracle. Though there are many versions of this tale, this Percival came upon a version of the Holy Spear, Longinus, perhaps guided by fate to do so as if chosen by the spear itself to be wielded by him. Through his journey, he became an enemy to a sorcerer named Klingsor who too sought to use the Holy Spear, albeit for purposes less than pure. Attempting to bar Percival from continuing, he sent his servant, Kundry, to him in hopes that he would be bewitched, and though her kisses had the power to enthrall men with the same ease of a Siren’s song, it did not work on the Knight of the Dove.

Bearing Kundry no ill-will for her attempts at seduction, he was able to confront Klingsor, and through that battle with the assistance of the spear, claim his victory. Kundry disappeared never to be seen again, but her flowers bloomed around the throne of Klingsor’s fortress, the beauty of them remaining deep within Percival’s thoughts even as he left and eventually returned back to Camelot. What happens after all of this? What other tales are there for this knight? There are many, just as there are many for the others as well. In the end, however, he eventually fell with his beloved kingdom, dying with no regrets in his heart for he had given his all to both his king and to the place he called his home.

[vir-tanadahl]

As the Moon Rises

Chapter 2: Ripples Beneath the Surface

I’m eagerly rewriting As the Moon Rises, which was originally written back in 2017, in anticipation of Dragon Age: Veilguard, channeling my excitement into refining the story. Summary: Isera Lavellan, at her mother’s behest, is sent to assist her twin brother, Banreas—the Inquisitor—in his mission to stop a force determined to bring about the world’s end. Together, they uncover long-buried secrets of their shared family history while Isera finds herself drawn to a mysterious non-Dalish elven mage whose knowledge of her heritage runs far deeper than she could have imagined. As the stakes rise, Isera must navigate this dangerous journey of discovery, where the past holds as much peril as the looming threats of the present. Solas x F!Lavellan.

[Ch1] [Ch2]

Before introductions were made, Isera quickly learned about her brother’s companions. The dwarf hails from Kirkwall. The human warrior? Nevarra. Then there’s the Tevinter mage and another human mage from Orlais. The elven mage… somewhere in the north, though no one seems certain. The elven archer claims Ferelden, while the qunari speaks of Par Vollen. Another human warrior calls the Free Marches home. But the dualist… there’s something off about him. Not quite human. He seems to shimmer like the Fade, faintly, like a ripple of light just beneath his skin. And humans—humans aren’t supposed to shimmer

Banreas guided Isera around Skyhold, introducing her to each of his companions. She committed each one to memory, careful to note their distinct impressions.

The dwarf, Varric, was a storyteller, painting vivid pictures of Skyhold with his words, describing its beauty in detail, as though trying to help her see it through his eyes. The human mage from Orlais, Vivienne, on the other hand, barely concealed her disinterest. She offered only polite smiles and empty pleasantries, keeping her distance. The Tevinter mage, Dorian, however, was far from subtle. He attempted to charm her, his voice dripping with self-assurance. “Ah, if only you could see me,’ he mused, ‘you’d know just how well-dressed and handsome I am.”

The elven mage, Solas, was polite, but there was a distance in his manner—guarded, as if wary of revealing too much. In contrast, the qunari, the Iron Bull, was loud, boisterous even, a perfect match for the equally spirited elven archer, Sera. Their laughter seemed to fill every corner of the fortress. The human warrior from the Free Marches--Blackwall? He gravitated toward the archer, the two of them trading dirty jokes like old friends, their banter easy and shameless.

The human dualist, Cole... wasn’t quite human, but what, exactly? Isera couldn’t tell. There was something off, something she couldn’t place, but it lingered in the way he moved, the way his presence felt just a little out of sync with the others. She wanted to ask, but now wasn’t the time. Not yet.

“And that’s everyone who travels with me,” Banreas said as they came to a stop along the ramparts, the cold mountain air brushing past them. “You met my advisors yesterday.”

He gently turned her toward the tower, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. “And this is where you’ll be staying, once it’s rebuilt.” The tower loomed ahead, its stone walls weathered but sturdy, a quiet promise of the space that would soon be hers.

Isera kept her eyes lowered, quietly observing the workers below. They moved with purpose, seemingly unaware of her brother’s presence. Their hands worked swiftly, filling the cracks and gaps in the weathered stone walls, the rhythmic clink of tools echoing in the air. She watched, unnoticed, as they made quick progress, repairing what time had worn down.

“Ser!” one of the workers called out, having just noticed them. Without hesitation, he rushed forward to approach Banreas.

“Yes, what is it?” Banreas asked, his tone firm but patient as he turned to face the approaching worker."

“Ser, your orders were to rebuild this tower into an infirmary and living quarters,” the worker said, glancing between Banreas and Isera. “We were also informed that your sister is a skilled healer and potion maker. The men and I were thinking—it might be useful to install a small garden on the top terrace. It would be easier for Mistress Lavellan to access her ingredients that way.”

Banreas straightened at the suggestion, his expression thoughtful. “That sounds practical,” he agreed, before turning to Isera. “Sister, what do you think?” he asked, his tone softening slightly as he sought her input.

“I agree,” Isera replied, her voice steady but with an unmistakable spark of enthusiasm. “I brought a collection of seeds with me, and it would be far more convenient to have the plants nearby.” The thought of a garden above her stirred something within, her body almost humming with quiet excitement. The art of cultivating herbs and flowers was a delicate skill, one that few could truly master, but it was one of the few practices that brought her a deep sense of fulfillment.

“Good. We should have everything finished by the end of the week, ser,” the worker replied, bowing deeply as he brought his arm to his chest in a gesture of respect. Without another word, he turned and headed back to the work site, the sound of tools resuming their steady rhythm in the distance.

“Until then, you can stay in my room. We have a lot to catch up on,” Banreas said, guiding her toward the Commander’s office. As they approached, Banreas nodded in greeting. “Commander,” he acknowledged. “You wanted to see me?”

"Inquisitor, yes... Ah.” The Commander hesitated, his eyes briefly flickering to Isera. “Perhaps we should speak in private.” His tone shifted, more guarded now, as if weighing his words carefully.

Isera quietly observed the subtle shift in her brother’s expression. Banreas hesitated, the conflict clear in his eyes as he weighed his responsibilities. She could see the tension in his posture—torn between the need to attend to his duties and the reluctance to leave her alone so soon after her arrival.

“I can wait outside,” Isera said quietly, answering for him as she gently pulled her arm away. Still standing in the doorway, she took a small step back, making it easier to 'blindly' find her way out. Her movements were deliberate, a subtle reminder that she didn’t need to be coddled.

“Isera…” Banreas murmured, his voice softening as he reached out and gently grasped her hand. There was a hesitation in his touch, as if he wasn’t quite ready to let her go, even for a moment.

“Banreas,” Isera snapped, pulling her hand away with a sharp tug. “I’m blind, not a child.” Her tone was firm, cutting through the moment, a reminder that she didn’t need his overprotection.

The Commander snorted, barely containing his amusement. Banreas sighed, the weight of the situation still lingering. “Well, just don’t fall off the rampart,” he muttered, half-serious, though a hint of exasperation colored his tone.

“No promises,” Isera shot back, her voice laced with dry humor as she brushed her hand along the wall to guide herself out. The door closed behind her with a sharp clang. Once outside, she leaned into the cool stone, positioning herself at an angle that overlooked the tavern below. The sun, warm against her skin, contrasted with the chilled air, offering a brief moment of peace. She let herself settle into it, feeling the faint hum of old magic vibrating through the stone—magic long forgotten by men, but still alive beneath the surface.

Isera wondered how a castle as magnificent as Skyhold could have been lost to time, only to be rediscovered when disaster was nipping at the heels of the ragtag Inquisition. It felt almost too convenient, as though fate itself had intervened. Serendipitous, perhaps—but there was always a price for such fortune. She made a mental note to ask her brother later how they had stumbled upon Skyhold. Such a place couldn’t have been found by chance.

“Excuse me?” a nervous voice called from behind her, barely louder than a whisper. Isera could hear the uncertainty in it, the hesitance that came from not knowing how to approach her.

The human dualist who wasn’t quite human... What was his name again? Isera turned slowly, facing the direction from which she heard his voice. There was something about him that still unsettled her—a presence that felt both familiar and foreign.

“Hello?” she called out, her voice steady despite the sudden tension gripping her chest. She watched as he flinched, his movements nervous, clutching something tightly in his arms. A staff? Isera held her breath, her lungs seizing with fear. Did he know? How could he possibly know?

The elven mage, Solas, quickly stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. “Cole, remember—she cannot see,” he reminded the human who wasn’t quite human. Cole blinked, glancing around as if momentarily disoriented. “Right,” he murmured, his tone soft and almost apologetic. He turned back to Isera, a hint of urgency in his voice. “Please... hold out your hands,” he instructed, his gaze flickering nervously as he awaited her response.

Isera hesitated for a moment before slowly extending her hands, unsure of what to expect. "I made this. It’ll help," Cole said softly, as he gently placed the staff into her palms, the cool wood settled into her grip, its weight both unfamiliar and comforting. His words were quiet, almost tentative, as if unsure how she would respond.

‘Ah, a guiding stick.’ Isera’s fingers traced the length of the staff, feeling the smooth, polished surface interrupted by rough patches of wood. Her hands instinctively wrapped around it, absorbing its texture, the unevenness grounding her in the moment.

“Cole likes to help others,” the elven mage said, his voice carrying a note of fondness as he patted Cole on the back. “It’s in his nature.” There was a quiet understanding between them, as if the mage had grown used to Cole’s peculiar way of showing care.

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Cole,” Isera replied, her voice softening as she spoke. She ran her hands over the staff once more, appreciating the gesture. There was genuine gratitude in her tone, though a hint of curiosity lingered beneath it.

Cole quickly shook his head. “It was Solas’s idea,” he replied, almost as if he wanted to shift the credit away from himself. His hands moved in nervous, habitual motions, brushing away invisible dust from his clothes. Solas. The name lingered in Isera’s mind, heavy with meaning, stirring something deep within her.

Solas shifted slightly, his expression betraying a flicker of surprise. It seemed he hadn’t expected to be credited for the gift, preferring to remain in the background. The weight of Cole’s words hung between them, and for a brief moment, Solas appeared uncharacteristically unsettled by the shared ownership

Before Solas could respond, Cole quickly added, “It was. I just helped.” He nodded, backing away with a quiet assurance. “I just helped. You’re happier now,” he murmured, his gaze flickering between them as if sensing the shift in Isera’s mood.

Solas remained silent, the moment passing before he could protest, while Cole’s simple words lingered, leaving Isera with an unexpected sense of calm.

The two watched as Cole hurried away, his movements a curious mix of discomfort and relief. It was as if he had completed his purpose and now sought refuge in his own internal world. Yet, despite his unease with lingering, there was an odd sense of comfort in his retreat, as though he had done exactly what he needed to, and that was enough.

The silence stretched between them, filling the space with unspoken words. Isera stood still, her head tilted slightly downward, feeling the weight of Solas’s gaze on her. Though her eyes didn’t meet his, she could sense him watching, his presence unmistakable, as if searching for something beneath the surface.

He was assessing her, his gaze deliberate and unguarded. Solas made little effort to hide the subtle shifts in his expression, every thought seemingly etched across his face. Isera could feel the weight of his scrutiny, as if he was searching for something beyond her words, something deeper.

They were alone, and Solas had no idea that she could, in fact, see him. His expressions, so openly displayed, were not lost on her. Each glance, each flicker of thought played across his face, unaware that Isera was quietly observing it all, hidden behind the veil of her supposed blindness.

“You are Dalish, are you not?” Solas asked, his voice calm but laced with quiet curiosity. He watched her closely, his tone casual yet probing, as if searching for something beneath the surface of such a simple question.

The question caught Isera off guard. Her head tilted slightly, surprise flashing across her face. “Why?” she asked, incredulity coloring her tone, as if the simplicity of the question masked something deeper she hadn’t anticipated.

Solas seemed to catch the oddness of his own question, his expression softening slightly. “My apologies,” he said smoothly. “You are related to the Inquisitor, who openly declares his Dalish heritage. His face bears the vallaslin, yet yours does not. I was merely curious.” His tone remained calm, but there was an unmistakable flicker of interest behind his words.

Isera snorted. "Says the elf. Are you Dalish" she retorted, watching as the question turned his own inquiry back onto him. For a brief moment, she saw him bristle, the slightest tension crossing his features—an instinctive reaction to having the spotlight shifted to something far more personal.

Solas’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of suspicion crossing his face. “How do you know I’m elven?” he asked, his tone measured but probing, as though testing her in return. The question carried a quiet weight, as if he were seeking more than just a simple answer—something deeper, something hidden. He is suspicious of her blindness.

“Banreas described the physical appearance of his companions to me,” Isera replied smoothly, the lie slipping effortlessly from her lips. It was sweet and convincing, but as she finished speaking, Solas continued to stare her down, his gaze sharp and unwavering.

There was a long pause, the air thick with unspoken thoughts, as if he was weighing the truth in her words, peeling back layers she hadn’t intended to reveal.

“You met many of his companions, yet you recognized who I was?” Solas pressed, his tone calm but insistent. There was no mistaking the quiet intensity behind his words, as if he was gently but firmly peeling back the layers of her story. His eyes remained fixed on her, searching for any crack in the lie she had so easily spun.

“Of course,” Isera replied smoothly, not missing a beat. “He made it clear you aren’t fond of the Dalish, and mentioned the heated argument you two had. He called you… what was it?” She paused, her lips curling into a slight smirk before continuing in Elvish. “An arrogant asshole.” She was testing him, baiting him. And in the subtle tightening of his jaw, the brief flicker in his eyes, she saw that he had taken the bait.

“I have seen what the Dalish falsely claim,” Solas responded, his voice calm but carrying an edge of disdain. “They are children, grasping desperately to a past that is untrue.”

His Elvish was impeccable, fluid, yet different—some of the words familiar but not quite the same, and his accent... it was unlike any she had heard before. It left Isera wondering, where was he really from?

“Why, were you there?” Isera retorted, a playful challenge in her tone as she twirled the walking stick in one hand. The movement was fluid, almost defiant, as if she were emphasizing her point with every rotation. Her eyes glinted with curiosity, daring him to explain his perspective further.

At her statement, Solas’s body tensed, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. It was subtle but unmistakable, as if her words had struck a nerve. The air between them thickened with unspoken tension, leaving Isera to wonder what lay beneath his composed exterior.

“I have visited places long since forgotten by this world,” Solas said, his voice steady but tinged with frustration. “I have glimpsed parts of history that many no longer remember. I tried to share this with the Dalish, and they refused.” He stood with his arms crossed, his posture rigid, back stiff as a board, a clear indication of the tension simmering just beneath his composed facade.

“Right, you’re a somniar. A fade-walker,” Isera replied, a hint of admiration slipping into her voice. It was almost impressive—he possessed an ability she had struggled with for years, only managing to control her own dreams with little success. Yet she wouldn’t let him see her intrigue; she held onto her guarded demeanor, determined to keep her own abilities hidden.

“I am,” he replied, his voice harsh, the edge unmistakable. Isera sensed the annoyance simmering beneath the surface, a reaction to her implication that he was a know-it-all. The air between them crackled with unspoken frustration, leaving her to wonder just how much his experiences had shaped him—and whether her words had struck a deeper chord.

“I’ve met one before. A halfling fleeing to Tevinter for training,” Isera said, her tone thoughtful as she turned to lean against the wall once more. A hint of nostalgia crept into her voice. “I hope he made it.” The memory lingered, a reminder of the fragility of their paths and the risks they took in pursuit of knowledge.

Isera waited, leaning against the wall, sensing that he was not expecting this shift in topics. There was a stillness in the air, a quiet tension as she studied him, curious if he would approach. She could almost see the wheels turning in his mind, processing the unexpected direction of their conversation.

"Halfling?” Solas echoed, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion. The word seemed to hang in the air, drawing his attention as he regarded her with newfound interest. It was a term that sparked questions, and he appeared eager to understand more about the context behind her words.

“Half-human, half-elf,” Isera explained, her tone steady as she shared the memory. “His mother was Dalish. He needed help to be awakened from his sleep. The Dalish tried to teach him to control it, but we rarely see fade-walkers in the clans—they usually die young. It’s more common to find them northward.”

Her words lingered in the air, painting a picture of the struggles faced by those touched by the Fade, a reality she had come to understand all too well.

Isera made a noise that was half a hum, half a sigh. “Anyway, of course, the Dalish did not want to hear it. It's rude to walk into a clan as a stranger and tell them their history is wrong. To claim that you—what the Dalish would call a flat ear—know everything, as if you’re some sort of god.” Her words dripped with irony, reflecting her understanding of the delicate balance between truth and tradition in their culture.

Isera watched as his face contorted in disgust, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. “I never claimed—" he began, his voice taut, as if bracing himself against the weight of her words. The tension between them thickened, each trying to navigate the unspoken complexities of their conversation.

“How do you convince someone the sky is not blue, I wonder?” she mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. A playful hum escaped her lips, the question lingering in the air like a challenge. It was a moment of lightness, yet it carried an undercurrent of seriousness, hinting at the difficulty of shifting deeply held beliefs.

The door leading to the Commander’s office swung open, and Banreas stepped out, his gaze instantly landing on the two of them. The air shifted as he assessed the scene, a mix of curiosity and concern flickering across his features. It was clear he had interrupted something—what, he couldn’t yet tell.

The tension in the air was palpable, despite Isera's grin. “Banreas, pray tell, is that you?” she asked, her voice sweeter than it had any right to be. The playful tone masked the weight of the moment, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she watched her brother’s reaction.

“What were you two talking about?” Banreas questioned, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized them both. He was no fool to the provocation of his sister's antics, and the tension in the air only heightened his instincts. The playful exchange between Isera and Solas had clearly stirred something beneath the surface.

“Solas admitted he needs to work on his people skills. He’s a bit rusty from his lonesome travels,” Isera replied quickly, a teasing lilt in her voice as she reached for her brother’s arm. Her playful tone lightened the moment, but the underlying tension still hung in the air, waiting to be addressed.

“I did not!" Solas gasped in offense, his arms instinctively pulling behind his back as if to shield himself from her teasing. The surprise in his voice was genuine, but the playfulness of the moment hung in the air, lightening the tension that had just been present.

“Look, he even had help crafting a walking stick for me, brother,” Isera said, a playful smile spreading across her face. “Such kindness can only be seen in someone with improving social skills.” Her tone dripped with irony, as she glanced at Solas, clearly enjoying the moment of jest.

Isera watched as her brother slowly shifted his gaze between the two of them, assessing the situation with a thoughtful expression. He seemed to weigh the decision of whether to engage in the banter. “That is a kind gesture,” he finally said, his tone measured but with a hint of warmth, acknowledging the moment without fully diving into the playful exchange.

Isera caught a glimpse of Solas from the corner of her eye, noticing the way his expression darkened into a glower of annoyance. The contrast between his irritation and the lighthearted banter around them added a subtle tension, making her smile widen just a bit more.

His shoulders were tightly pulled back, head tilted slightly back as he frowned, clearly annoyed. Isera decided she was done egging him on for today, sensing that pushing further might only deepen the tension. With a playful smirk, she shifted her focus back to her brother, leaving Solas to stew in his irritation.

“I’m quite tired, brother. Can you please escort me to your room?” Isera requested, her voice softening as she gently tugged on his arm. There was a hint of vulnerability in her tone, a silent acknowledgment that she felt more comfortable with him by her side.

Banreas nodded, linking arms with his sister to guide her away. "Good day, Solas," Isera called out teasingly as they walked by, her tone light and playful. Solas remained silent, his expression still clouded with annoyance, leaving the air thick with unspoken words as they moved further away.

[cavefilllingcorporation]

Jack crashes the MazeRun party

The party was going strong. With exports being few and far between, they could take the time off needed to host a party like this. Lights were strewn everywhere, there was a group of people in the corner dancing to a disco ball hanging in the sky, there were plenty of places for small games that people setup, and Finn even managed to pull some strings to get some good catering to their world, allowing for an exquisite party meal.

Tom then found Finn and the two started a conversation.

“I’m still in disbelief you managed to get this all setup practically overnight.”

“What can I say? We’ve been waiting for a good long time for this moment to happen! It’s not every day that you get over the 10% mark.”

“Yeah, it’s really nice that it’s finished. Still, I’m not quite sure that, at the end of the day, it was worth that much.”

“Well, that system was created originally with manual tools in mind and was reduced to make way for other areas. I do agree that it is a bit much, but hey! Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, right?”

“I guess not.”

Suddenly, a Crate that had arrived without anybody’s notice was starting to land near the party area, and it was now becoming very noticeable.

Tom expressed his concern upon seeing it after his exclamations of surprise. “Who is that? Are we in trouble?”

“No no” Finn commented, as he started to put his drink down to go ahead and greet the guest. “I know who this is, but they were supposed to arrive tomorrow. I was going to make a speech at the end of this party and everything.”

Finn then called out to the rest of the party goers. “Everybody, continue as normal! I’ll handle this.”

Finn and Tom then walked over to the Crate, clearly marked as personal transport. That being said, the Crate seemed more weaponized than normal. As it landed, a man came out, clearly confused. He was equipped with modern tactical gear, but with only a pistol in his holster, not trying to cause any trouble.

Finn started the conversation. “Well, you’re here early. Hang on, where is-”

The man interrupted Finn. “The General is scouting out the insurgent location, trying to get a strategy for our eventual raid on the facility. I’ve been sent here to secure an area for our quarters.”

Tom then interrupted the two, confused about the whole ordeal. “Hang on, could somebody please tell me what is going on?”

Finn then decided to explain everything. “Well, I heard that the second identified terrorist group decided to go ahead and take the floating fortress that we plan on tearing down soon. Upon hearing that, I called for some help, and we got the Heroes’ League.”

“Ah, that makes sense. Anyways, what is your name?” Tom asked the Leager.

“Jack. Just Jack.”

Finn then responded: “Well Jack, while I can’t say that you’ll be able to pitch tents here, I wish to give you the best welcome I can give. As you can see, there’s not much room for tents here, we ourselves live in the Cloudhouse. Still, please feel free to make yourself at home. Together, I hope we can deal with these terrorists quickly.”

Jack then responded. “Yeah… I hope so. That’s why I’m here after all…”

[libraryofcirclaria]

112 CE

Library of Circlaria

Remikra Timeline

Edoran Subjugation

Throughout the 60s CE, Moorlanders captured by Edorans during the conflict in the North faced a choice: die, or convert to Alconism to work as a serf in the Edoran Kingdom. With the latter choice, Moorlanders were seen as equals among the other serfs, where they were given a job and a place to live. However, those two assets were not choices of each Moorlander but assignments given by the presiding lords. Furthermore, like all other Edorans, Moorlanders were subject to taxation.

Moorlanders as Pawns Between Edora and Wannonia

Meanwhile, in the West, a section of the Moorland region was inhabited by Moorlanders who were driven from their homes in the lands now conquered by the Edoran Kingdom, having escaped death and captivity, but were not daring enough to cross into Wannonia. With these Moorlanders, it was the lack of food and resources that prompted them to strike back at the Edorans in the early 60s CE. They launched a coordinated and terrifying assault upon the newly-established Edoran settlements; but by this time, there were also established Edoran castles and fortresses, which proved too strong. Furthermore, such an assault provoked the Edorans into launching assaults of their own, which, utilizing better organization and strategy, drove the Moorlanders even further to the West than they originally were. In 65 CE, King Robert died, and was succeeded by King Ronald, married to Queen Alexandra, both of whom vowed to continue defending the Kingdom against the Moorlanders. By this point, though, the Moorlanders had learned of Edoran fortress-building methods as well as Edoran fighting tactics, and began to carry out stronger resistance by, themselves, building fortified camps and adapting combat strategies. But by the late 60s CE, the Moorlanders were attacked from the West by the Wannonians, who saw and took advantage of weaknesses in their Edoran-style defenses. With the greatest of ease, they attacked and captured the camps, forcing Moorlanders into slavery. Alarmed by this, King Ronald sent spies to gain insight on how the Wannonians managed to overcome these defenses, and used such information to rebuild genuine Edoran castles and forts. King Ronald also used caution to capture only Moorlander strongholds not occupied also by Wannonians for fear of engaging in direct conflict with Wannonia; for Wannonia, as King Ronald understood, was a more civilized society, being stronger and better-armed. In September 96 CE, King Ronald died, and was succeeded by his wife, Queen Alexandra.

The Two Walls

Moorlander slaves accustomed to farming in harsh conditions, were of high value in Wannonia, where a worsening climate increased the need for more efficient crop-tending, especially for the flaxweed fields. However, in the latter half of the first century, a sudden shortage of incoming Moorlander captives caught the attention of Emperor Kamon II, who sent scouts to the North. Such scouts returned with news that many of the Moorlanders were being captured by Edorans, who were capturing Moorlander campsites to the East; and Emperor Kamon II began feeling concern that they would next attack the Moorlander strongholds under Wannonian possession. In addition to the fear of Edoran aggression, Kamon II's agenda of war preparation for Edora was also fueled by his desire to reclaim the territory of the former Republic of Karlin, and to claim the remainder of the Edoran Kingdom, thereby restoring the old Empire of Wannonia, and opening the possibility of reclaiming the Canticulan territories lost in the past.

Between 97-100 CE, Kamon II drew a boundary just ahead of the Westward motion of Edoran advancement; and along this boundary, he ordered the construction of a wall (actually, a series of walls) marked by fortresses, each of which to be fortified by divisions of Wannonian Legions. However, Kamon II's policy was to engage in warfare only if the Edorans launched a provocative attack. Between this wall and the Edoran advancement lay a few untouched Moorlander encampments; but Wannonia did not attack them for fear of attacking Edorans who might he occupying them. Anticipating possible warfare, Kamon II also further strengthened the border wall between Edora and Wannonia in the Combrian/Ereautean region.

Meanwhile, the Edoran Kingdom, under Queen Alexandra, noticed the Wannonians and their fortifications to the North and West; and, between 100 and 102 CE, they began building a wall of their own, fortifying it with soldiers as the Queen vowed only to attack if provoked by the Wannonians. She also vowed not attacking the Moorlander encampments between themselves and Wannonia for fear of accidentally attacking Wannonians. Like the Wannonians, the Edorans also fortified the border walls in Ereautea and Combria.

A Crass Decision

Such a period of silent tension existed until the death of Queen Alexandra in March 103 CE, as she was succeeded by her son, Richard II. King Richard II had a personal agenda: to reclaim the lost Arc of Totia, which he believed from myth and legend to be in the hands of pirates in the Kingdom of Vantacula. It was to there in the summer of that year that he, against the wisdom of his closest advisors, as well as the advice of his late parents, sent Edoran soldiers on a crusade. Trouble emerged in that war, as Vantacula proved too well-fortified to overcome; so Richard drew soldiers from and North and West to supplement his agenda. After such withdrawal, only one in ten soldiers remained to defend against Wannonia.

Meanwhile, Emperor Kamon II had paid Moorlanders from the middle encampments to spy on the Edorans to relay any information on Edoran plans to launch an assault. When they, instead, informed him of nine in ten soldiers leaving for a crusade in Vantacula, Kamon II finally saw the weakness in the Edoran Kingdom that he had been hoping for. In November 105 CE, he sent Wannonian Legions from the Northern fortresses. They succeeded in catching the Edorans off-guard and capturing the Edoran wall. Subsequently, they swept across Edoran territory, pushing Edoran defenses halfway to the Correns. This was the beginning of the Edoran-Wannonian War.

The Edoran-Wannonian War

Until February 106 CE, the Wannonians succeeded in overtaking the weakened Edoran castles and fortresses, while, in Combria and Ereautea, they recaptured almost all of the lands of former Karlin, capturing the city of Kilm in the process. The only drawback on behalf of Kamon II was that he did not understand the swift and efficient method of communication, eagle-and-ship messaging, that King Richard II had with the crusader soldiers. Promptly, Richard II drew the Edoran crusaders from Vantacula and returned them to the Remikran battlefronts. Between March 106 and September 107 CE, the Edorans managed to regain Karlin, and the Northern territories with their strongholds, as they began construction of a large fort. Such a fort, named Fort Mains, was completed in October 108.

In March 109 CE, the Wannonians utilized a new invention, the boulder projector, which functioned as a large slingshot. With this, they captured Fort Mains and built upon it with additional fortifications. From this, they launched numerous assaults, pushing the Edorans to the Correns by November. But then, in March 112 CE, the Edorans invented the catapult, which, by June, helped them to recapture Fort Mains, upon which they too built numerous additional fortifications. By this point, the two powers were in an effective stalemate.

<- 100 CE <- || -> 115 CE ->

[talesofsorrowandofruin]

And for our next trick, one of the less disturbing moments of Like Snow on Hungry Graves book 1 (warning for emotional abuse, Ketevan being a creep, and referenced self-harm. Yes, this is less disturbing than what happens later):

She went up to his room and tried the door. It was locked, but she had spare keys for every room in the fortress. She unlocked it and found it still wouldn't open. "Hariye, open this door!" There was a shuffling sound and then the noise of something heavy being pushed back. Hariye opened the door. Ketevan was promptly taken aback by how haggard he looked. His skin was even paler than normal, his eyes seemed positively enormous in his face, and his hands were bruised and bloody. There were red dots on his trouser legs that looked ominously like blood. Ketevan stared at him. "…What happened?" Hariye shrugged. "I tried an experiment. It confirmed what you said." A wave of horror and rage combined swept over her. She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. "Did you tell anyone else what you are?" "Of course not!" he snapped. It was the first time she'd ever heard him sound angry. "I'm not suicidal. I filled the bathtub." Ketevan looked at his fingers, then at the blood on his trousers. An inkling of what he'd done dawned on her. She glared at him. "Never harm yourself again. I forbid it." Hariye's eyes had gone eerily distant after he finished speaking. Now he seemed to snap back to reality and he looked at her in shock. "Who do you think you are?" he demanded, for the first time sounding like the prince he was. "You have no right to forbid me to do anything." "I have every right," Ketevan said, only just restraining herself from shouting. "You're in my land, in my fortress, under my protection. You saved my life so I am repaying you by saving yours. Don't you understand that you're in extreme danger? I'm the only one who can protect you." Hariye took a deep breath. His whole body seemed to shake like a leaf. "I want to go home." That idea sent a surge of possessive rage through Ketevan. "Didn't you know before we left Çarisar? Didn't you hear? Your father is offering a reward to anyone who finds you. But never in the entire reward poster does he ever say you're his son. He calls you a runaway slave who's stolen valuable jewellery. Don't you see? He knows you're a mer and he sees you as just a source of money. I've no doubt he plans to steal your scales some day." Hariye collapsed onto the bed. His hair fell over his face so she couldn't see his expression, but she could tell from his voice that he was fighting back tears. "It's not true. My father… He always treated me well. He'd never…" "Then go home," Ketevan said. "Go home and see for yourself how he reacts. Think of all the mer scales in your grandfather's palace." Hariye gave a choked sob. His body shook with the effort of holding back tears. Ketevan sat down next to him and wrapped her arms around him. "I know this is a terrible shock," she said in her most reassuring voice. "But don't worry. I'm here and I won't let anyone harm you. I'll take you far away so no one can find you."

Adding LSOHG's taglist: @whimsyqueen, @original-writing (Let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

Trick or Treat? 🦇

Trick! 💀

[psi-scribe]

Fluff 12 with the bloodhound and tiberius? Please!!

Ask and you shall receive dear anon. I’m glad these two caught your eye as well, Bloodhound and Tiberius are delightful characters in their own ways <:]c

Fandom: Warhammer 40k Characters: Tiberius, The Bloodhound Prompt: Fluff 12:  “Welcome home” Word Count: 1,030 Prompt List: Here

Consciousness came to him with the sudden crackle-roar of thunder echoing in his ears.

Immediately Tiberius sat up, senses alert as he nearly reached for the blade he kept under his bed before he stilled. The spike of adrenaline eased in his veins as millennia old reflexes relaxed, there was no threats to be on guard against. He was alone in his dark chambers, tangled in his sheets with sweat clinging to his form.

Yet, it was not the storm that awoke him.

A sensation had sparked and lingered in the depths of his mind, just at the edge of his awareness. Such things would have caused many to fight, push back or resist the phantom feeling that entered in his mind, but Tiberius knew it’s origin and did not fear it. The warmth and weariness he picked up on were coming from a familiar presence. One that had slipped into his mind many times.

Although he wasn’t a psyker, he had learned how to reply to such sensation-messages. As he swept his legs over the side of his bed and grabbed his boots, Tiberius focused on the distant light-thread that connected him to another, the Bloodhound.

He focused on the concept and memory of pleasant feelings, relief, rest, the feeling of fresh sheets and the smell of brewed tea and ‘pushed’ it all towards the Bloodhound’s end of their connection.

As he descended into the dark corridors, Tiberius turned his focus inwards as he traveled a familiar path.

+I’m coming+ He thought and allowed it to echo across the bond he shared with the Bloodhound.

The quiet sigh he felt in return was enough to drive him forward, moving quicker towards his target as his hearts stirred. His love was home now, and he desired nothing more than to gaze upon him and know he was well.

***

The Bloodhound’s chambers were deeper into the heart of the fortress. His duties and long service to the warband had granted him a large domain that all save a few were granted access too. As the Warlord’s equerry he held access to all areas, though he did not dare to tread through the Bloodhound’s sanctuary with ease. He was a guest in his mind, an honored one perhaps, but still one regardless of his relationship to the Bloodhound.

+I’m here+ He sent across their bond and keyed in his permission to pass through the threshold of the Bloodhound’s domain.

Like the rest of the fortress and cambers, darkness hung over the chambers, the only light came from the pale flames of psychically lit candles and the flash of lightning. Tiberius could see well in the dark, as all marines could. But something about the Bloodhound’s chambers might the dark heavier and thicker, all to the point where augmented sight struggled in it.

Still he went further, determined to find his returned lover, and make sure he was well.

+Tiber+ Echoed in his mind, like a soft purr that bought a smile to his lips. The nickname had followed him through his early days as a legionnaire and endured ever since. Though, he was thankful it was spoken only by a handful of souls.

Lightning jolted up his arms as he pushed past the heavy and etched door that served as the last hurdle and sighed at the sight before him.

The Bloodhound kneeled in the middle of a ritual circle; candles flickered, glinting against the stones and sands that served as the anchor point for the sorcerer. Heat waves rolled off the Bloodhound as he heaved with slow breaths that onto growls. Beneath his veil, his eyes burned with psychic energy, focused onto him.

The Bloodhound had always been a force to be dealt with, even more when in his domain.

Yet, Tiberius only felt warm relief as he stepped out the shadows and came to stand outside of the circle, waiting for the Bloodhound’s sign. Although, he ignored how the shadows and flames flickered and whirled around him strangely.

Blazing eyes blinked and the flame grew dull as the Bloodhound’s head tilted and he reached out a clawed hand towards him.

Tiberius smiled and stepped to kneel in front of his lover, slipping a hand past his veil to cup his cheek, “Welcome home, Hound.”

Hound sighed and tilted in his head into his touch, sweeping an arm over his shoulders to bring them closer together.

“Are you hurt?” Tiberius whispered, petting his fuzzy cheek before pulling his hand towards the base of Hound’s horns.

“No” Hound replied, “Nothing but scratches. Just weary, Tiber.”

“To be expected. Come, let’s get you to bed” He said removing his hand to rest on one of the Hound’s shoulders. “Yours or mine?”

“Here” Hound answered.

A skeletal servitor had made un-armoring Hound quicker, revealing scarred flesh and short spikes along his shoulders. Not that Tiberius ever minded as he placed a few quick kisses near them and Hound’s ports, drawing out more sighs and groans.

As they withdrew to Hound’s bedchambers, Tiberius chuckled when his lover decided to wrap his arms around his waist and drop them onto his bed. Sparks and bubbles of endearment flowed into his mind as they settled into comfortable positions.

“Missed you too Hound” Tiberius smiled, reaching to tug down Hound so that he could rest against his chest and listen to his heart.

Hound purred, brushing back several strands of Tiberius’ long hair before Tiberius shut his eyes. Although they were lovers, Tiberius had always respected Hound’s oaths to the Warband and their leader, even with Hound’s approval to see behind the cloth.

Thus, as they settled into rest for a while longer, the only sounds Tiberius heard was the faint sound of rain and cloth falling away before he felt lips against his own.

“Sleep well Tiber” Hound whispered before pulling him close and drawing the blankets over them.

Tomorrow, between all their duties Tiberius promised himself to welcome Hound home more properly. New tomes had been recovered from a recent raid and their Bestiary had harvested new tea leaves from his gardens.

Yes, he thought before sleep overtook him, a quiet day together sounded good.

[gukeobi]

New Beginnings (M)

pairing: werewolf!jeongguk x reader

genre: Slight angst, fluff (?), smut (jeongguk has a breeding kink, Alpha kink kinda, passionate jeongguk), kinda enemies to friends to lovers? lol 

words: 17.4k (i’m sorry)

warnings: blood mention, non present character death 

-----------

It was cold. Fresh snow covered the soft forest ground in a sheet of pure white, some delicately resting on the branches of the bare trees that lived around you as more continued to fall from the sky above. The iciness burned your bare hands, leaving them red, flushed and numb as your excited giggles rang throughout the empty forest like a mantra. 

You were only four years old, and every year since your birth you would visit your grandfather at his cabin in the woods. Your mother, his only daughter, had passed during childbirth and afterwards he had secluded himself to a simple cabin in the woods that was miles away from any form of civilization to continue his independent research studies. He was a retired wildlife biologist, his motivation to continue his work in a professional setting dying along with his only child. 

“Don’t wander too far now, Y/N,” Your grandfather called out to you, watching you from the patio with a smile on his face and a cup of coffee warming his hands through his thick gloves. You turned back to look at him and nodded in response to his request, cheeks flushed and a smile so wide it hurt. It was times like these in which you reminded him so much of his late daughter, the sparkle in your eyes and the snow melting in your hair.

 The thought caused a sharp pang of hurt to spread through his chest. 

Turning back to the snowy fortress in front of you, you continued to make your way through the vast never-ending whiteness with no true end goal in mind. You collected anything that caught your eye--pretty rocks, fallen leaves, and even a small collection of hellebore flowers which were hidden behind a naked tree. With your treasures held delicately in between your chubby red fingers and arms tucked tightly against your chest, your tiny legs weaved through the forest in continuously growing elation. 

Your excitement was short lived, however, when your lack of awareness resulted in your foot getting caught on a fallen branch.

“Ow,” you whispered gently, watching as blood stained the whiteness below you almost immediately. Your knee scraped against a sharp rock hidden beneath the snow during your fall, the fabric of your pants tearing upon impact and the objects that were once held protectively against your thick warm coat were now scattered across the forest floor in chaos. With tears clouding your vision, your hands gripped your bloody knee gently. 

The sound of your quiet weeps seemed to echo in the otherwise empty forest, bouncing against the trees and coming back to mock you for your obliviousness to your surroundings. The slight rustle of the snow covered bushes across from you managed to draw your attention away from your injury briefly, though what you saw was not at all what you expected.

Standing between two trees was a wolf. Its sleek black fur was a stark contrast to the pure whiteness surrounding it, the midnight inkiness unable to camouflage itself from unsuspecting eyes. It was large, towering over you impressively even with its massive paws sinking into the snow below it, leaving depressions in their wake. Its hulking physique was intimidating, muscles visibly rippling underneath its thick winter coat as it stalked towards your tiny fallen figure. 

You watched in awe and slight nervousness as it stopped right in front of you. It’s head alone was almost the size of your entire frame, and it’s eyes never once left your flushed, tear stained face. 

“Hi,” you breathed, your voice small. Gently taking your hand, you held up your palm face up towards the wolf’s face, its nose cold and wet as it touched your hand before it slowly transitioned into warm, sleek fur as the wolf pushed its forehead into your palm. You ran your fingers gently across the wolf’s head, your tiny fingers dwarfed significantly, relishing in the warmth it brought. 

The first touch of the animal’s tongue on your injury stung, the roughness irritating the already inflamed skin. You whimpered, though watched silently as the wolf cleaned your wound like it would to one of its young. Looking back up at you once it was done, deeming your injury clean enough, its eyes flashed a brilliant shade of vermillion before returning to their dulled amber color as quickly as it came. 

Too engrossed in feeling the warmth of the wolf’s body temperature beneath your frozen fingertips, you were slightly startled when you felt it’s snout gently nudging your thigh, signaling for you to stand up. You followed without complaint, albeit a slight limp on your left leg, and brushed the snow that clung wetly to your clothes with your fingers before embedding your fingers back into the wolf’s warm, soft fur on its back. It led you back the direction you came, the trip silent except for the crunch of the snow beneath your feet as the cabin quickly came into view. 

“There you are,” your grandfather breathed, a smile plastering his wrinkled face as soon as you came into view. His eyes quickly drifted to the creature beside you, taking in it’s hulking figure and bright red eyes. He wasn’t worried or scared like you expected him to be, and instead lowered into a small bow to show his respects. The wolf followed suit, lowering its head before backing away from you to return to the forest; it’s home. “I was wondering where you ran off to, silly girl.” 

“Grandpa!” you giggled, running up the patio steps before crashing into his chest in a hug. The sun was quickly setting, casting hues of golden and soft rose onto the snow as you turned back to watch the wolf disappear between the trees once again. It was almost as if it was never there to begin with. “Did you see that? Did you?” 

“I did, my love,” He spoke to you, his voice gentle as he brushed stray hairs away from your face. Pointing to your torn pants, a frown found its way on his face at the sight of the raw, exposed skin. “What happened here?” 

“I was running through the snow,” you began, sighing at the warmth of the inside of the cabin as your grandfather led you to the kitchen. You sat down on one of the dining room chairs, watching as he grabbed a first aid kit from one of the cupboards. “And I tripped over a rock. It hurt pretty bad.”

Your grandpa hummed, listening to your story intently as he slowly disinfected the wound with antibacterial soap before taking out a bandage to cover it with.  “And then?” 

“And then this big wolf showed up out of nowhere!” you exclaimed, waving your hands high above your head to try to demonstrate. “He was huge, but he didn’t hurt me. He helped me. He licked my knee and led me back here.” 

“Did he?” Placing a bandage onto your knee, he chuckled as he gently took your small, cold hands in his own and led you from the kitchen to your bedroom. You quickly changed from your wet, outside clothes and into your warm sleep clothes, hopping into bed with a smile that didn’t seem like it was fading still on your face. 

“I have something to tell you, Y/N. Something important.” your grandfather spoke, his voice low as he pulled the covers up to your chest. By now the sun has fully set, the only light illuminating your room coming from the pale moonlight glow and the dulled bedside lamp. “There are many wolves out there, Y/N. Special wolves. They will never hurt you if you welcome them with open arms and an open mind.” 

With that, he placed a kiss on your forehead and turned off your bedside lamp, the door to your bedroom closing softly in his wake. Almost complete darkness welcomed you, the light of the full moon bathing you in it’s ethereal shine, and as you fell asleep that night you swore you could hear the distant howls singing you a lullaby. 

---------

  The coldness of the outside air was pleasant against your skin, the thick material of your hoodie sheathing most of the elements from your exposed flesh. You worked diligently on moving each box from the back of your car to the inside of the cabin, music playing quietly through your headphones to fill the quietness of the empty forest. 

You were now twenty-one, and it's been 3 months since your grandfather has passed. 

His death had taken a huge toll on you. You had stopped visiting him during the summer after your thirteenth birthday, school and relationships outweighing the desire to spend the three months you had free in the woods alone and not with your friends. Up until now you didn’t feel any regret in doing so, your relationship with him eventually fading into the only communication being handwritten cards sent every holiday or your birthday. Though ever since you found out about the news of his death the only thing you could feel was heartbreak and guilt. 

Stepping back outside you grabbed the last box out of your trunk, shutting it with a sigh before moving to finally go back inside. You were tired, lately that’s all you’ve been, and moving from the heart of Seoul to the forests of a forgotten city was harder than you’d originally envisioned it to be. The drive was long, the bright early morning sky fading into the depths of midnight before you could even realize, barely any stops made in between. The only thing you wanted to do now was rest. 

--------

Looking around the cabin it was exactly how you remembered it being, albeit desolate as the livelihood that used to thrive was now replaced with cold emptiness in the absence of its light. The dark tinted wood flooring was cold beneath your sock clad feet as you moved to light the fireplace, illuminating the living room in a light golden hue and filling it with warmth. 

There were many pictures lining the stone built around the fireplace, and you could recognize your face in some of them as you moved to pick one up. You ran your finger gently over the glass, brushing some of the built up dust away to reveal the image of you and your grandpa’s smiling face staring back at you. 

It was snowing in the picture, your faces flushed red and snow stuck in your hair. The memory of when the photo was taken was fuzzy, blurry at some of the edges but it still made your eyes well up; a small smile on your face as your tears hit the glass protecting it. 

Gently placing the picture frame back on the mantle, your eyes drifted to the other photos that lined the stone. One that managed to catch your eye was one of your grandfather, smiling like always and surrounded by three very large wolves. 

One was an earthy brown color, lanky and tall but still muscular and intimidating while the other a healthy mix of grey and white, specks of dirty brown littering it’s coat. The last one was slightly hidden, it’s obnoxiously large head peeking behind your grandfather’s shoulder shyly as it’s inky black coat contrasted nicely with the warm autumn background. It felt strangely familiar, though you couldn’t pinpoint why. 

Your grandfather always talked about the wolves that roamed the forest in which he lived and how they were special, different. You never truly understood what he meant by that, though you assumed he had simply built a relationship with the creatures as he focused his studies on them and their behaviours. 

You tried not to dwell on it too much. 

Shaking your head you placed the photo back where it was on the fireplace, taking one last look at your new home before putting the fire out and getting ready for bed. 

------- 

In the morning you were rudely woken up by the sound of somebody knocking on your door. It was strange, you thought, nobody came by these parts by chance and the closest neighbour you had was miles away. You doubted if they even really cared if somebody new moved in overnight, though you assumed news spread fast in small areas like these. Furrowing your eyebrows, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes before quickly answering the door. 

What greeted you were two men, one noticeably taller than the other with dirty silver blonde hair and kind eyes that seemed welcoming. The other had hair the shade of night, with cat-like eyes that made you more uncomfortable the longer you looked at them. Both were wearing simple clothes, though arguably not appropriate for the freezing weather. You shifted nervously. 

“Can I help you?” you spoke, voice slightly raspy from sleep. The coldness of the early morning air nipped at your exposed arms, your simple t-shirt not doing much to shelter you from the cold as it entered into your home. Your eyes drifted to the taller one of the two as he spoke. 

“Hi, my name is Namjoon and this is my brother, Yoongi.” he spoke, eyes crinkling at the sides as he smiles at you. He has a gentle smile, you think. “We live a couple miles up the street and heard of somebody moving in. You’re new around here, yes?” 

He spoke eloquently, obviously educated and smart judging by the way he chose to present himself, but there was a slight disconnect with his words--  a slur to his accent you didn’t recognize. One you couldn’t point out. 

You nodded in response to his question, a polite smile on your face. “I just finished moving in yesterday.” 

Something felt off, they felt off. The shorter one of the two, Yoongi you remember his name being, you caught his eyes wandering-- drifting past your shoulder in a futile attempt to see inside your home. Shifting uncomfortably, you leaned your shoulder against the wooden door frame in an attempt to block his view. You didn’t know where this conversation was heading, and you really didn’t want to find out, either. 

The taller one, Namjoon, opened his mouth to speak before he was quickly interrupted. 

“The old man that used to live here,” Yoongi began, eyes narrowing at you underneath his fringe. His voice was relatively monotone, yet somehow aggressive and accusatory. “What happened to him.” 

Namjoon whipped his head around to look at the shorter man, eyebrows furrowed and expression tight. The frustration was evident in his voice as he quickly turned back to you, “I apologize for him-” 

“It’s okay,” you waved off quickly, though slightly hurt by the bluntness of his tone. Clearing your throat you fought hard to fight back tears, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of strangers by completing breaking down. You let out a small sigh before continuing, “My grandfather, he passed away a couple months ago. He left all of his belongings to me in his will, so I-I wanted to move in to make sure nothing happened to his home and research.” 

At that, both of them seemed to deflate in relief, their shoulders less tense-- though at the mention of the word ‘grandfather’ they seemed to be more intrigued. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Namjoon spoke, his voice low. He stuck his hand out in a handshake, his palm large against your own smaller one as you gripped it gently. His hand was warm, incredibly so, despite the freezing temperature he was standing in. “I can’t imagine the pain you’re going through right now and I apologize for intruding.” 

“Thank you,” you replied, the warmth of his palm comforting. “Would you like to come in for some coffee? Tea?” 

“We would love to,” Looking regretful, Namjoon turned to look at Yoongi briefly, the latter’s eyes never once leaving your face. “But we should really get going. Next time, maybe?” 

Smiling, you nodded your head in agreement. “Next time, then.”

You watched silently as they left, your hands stilling on the door as you went to close it. They had stated earlier that their home was miles away from yours, yet you didn’t see them getting into a car or any mode of transportation to make their way back-- instead the sound of their shoes crunching on the gravel of your driveway as they walked seemed to echo in the quiet early morning air. 

Furrowing your eyebrows you shook your head, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The whole interaction left a weird taste in your mouth, though you attempted not to linger over it too much, unsure if you’d realistically ever see them again. Closing the door with a dull thud your bare feet padded against the cold wood flooring as you made your way to the living room, relighting the fireplace with a match to help fill the room with much needed warmth. 

------ 

You spent most of the day unpacking your things. The interaction early this morning with Namjoon and Yoongi was pushed to the back of your mind now as you attempted to settle in. Surprisingly enough it wasn’t as difficult as you initially thought, though you guess you can place it on this place being your second home for thirteen years of your life. 

As the cabin was located semi remotely and the nearest town wasn’t anywhere close to you, your grandfather had built a tiny farm in the “backyard” to produce his own food. He refused to hunt live animals to eat, his reasoning being he didn’t have the heart to do so; a lifestyle you adopted from him during your younger years. Putting on a thick, warm hoodie to help combat the chilly winds you ventured outside to check on it. 

What you expected to see were rotting and decaying plants, seeing as there had been nobody around to take care of them for months.

 But they weren't. 

The fruits and vegetables looked as fresh and healthy as they could be, vibrant against the dull earthy ground they grew on. There had to be a logical explanation for this, produce couldn’t have survived as long as they have without being eaten by wildlife or destroyed by the elements and lack of care. Getting down on your knees, you moved to check the roots of the plants for any disturbances or ruptures when you heard it.

Behind you there was the snapping of a twig, the sound irritatingly loud in the otherwise quiet forest. You stilled, breath hitching in your throat as you tried to process what was happening. Perhaps you were being paranoid, you thought. You lived in a forest, there were wild animals all around you and one twig snapping shouldn’t warrant such a reaction. 

That was until the sound was followed by a low growl. It was quiet enough to not be heard if you weren’t paying enough attention, but loud enough to make the hairs rise on the back of your neck. Turning your head slowly, the first thing you tried to do was figure out who, or what, was there before turning your body completely. 

Standing about 10 feet away from you was a wolf. It’s coat was as black as a clear night sky, sleek and silky yet slightly matted with the only color being the dulled amber of its eyes. Its snout was pulled back in a snarl, the stained whites of its elongated canines taunting you while its eyes stared directly at you in aggression. 

You remembered distinctly about the values your grandfather instilled in you when you were young, to be gentle to the wolves that live on this land and to approach them with respect. So you raised the palm of your hand silently-- the situation eliciting a strange sense of deja vu--the act in itself a sign of non aggression. 

It didn’t work. 

The wolf’s growls got progressively louder as it stalked towards you, it’s massive paws sinking heavily into the earth below. You didn’t have time to react before it lunged for you, the plants behind you smothering behind as you fell back, the smell of blood penetrating the air as the thorns of the blackberry bush behind you pierced your skin. The palm of your hand stained a deep wine red. 

It’s growls seemed to reverberate in your skull as saliva dripped from it’s bared canines and onto your cheek, it’s hot breath making you choke up in fear. The feeling of it’s heavy paws on your chest made you feel like you were suffocating, pushing you further into the wet soil. 

You were scared. Unbelievably scared. The adrenaline and panic was pulsing through your veins like blood, hot and thick and circulating your entire body without pause.

It’s only been a day and you’re already staring at the face of death. 

“Please,” you begged, your eyes wet with tears as they fell down into your hair and mixed with the soil below. To whom or what you were pleading to you did not know, your eyes slowly drifting from it’s bared teeth to your own pitiful reflection staring back at you in its eyes. The creature seemed to falter at the eye contact, eyes widening a fraction before you see it’s nose wiggling from your peripheral vision. 

Slowly you could see the wolf’s snarl fade, it’s large paws stepping off your chest and back into the wet earth as it continued to back away from you. You were scared and confused, your body terrifying still until you heard the sound of branches snapping and leaves crunching as the wolf made its way back into the forest where it came from, sparing one last look at your fear-stricken form before disappearing from your view completely. 

You lied there silently for what felt like an eternity, your hands shaking as they gripped the dirt, the pain from your cut dulled from shock. Getting up quickly you rushed inside, taking off all your clothes and turning the shower dials to the hottest setting. It burned, your hands still slightly trembling as you scrubbed yourself roughly and watched as the water ran down the drain pink before eventually turning clear. The shower didn’t do much to calm your nerves. 

--- 

“This was a bad idea,” you mumbled to yourself, brushing your wet hair away from your face with your hand. There was a heavy bandage wrapped around it, the wound not as painful as it was a couple of hours ago but still pulsing painfully if you moved it the wrong way. You stared blankly at your bedroom wall, your thoughts blank as you noted with dull interest how the light birch color contrasted nicely with the darkly tinted wood flooring.

 Maybe you should have stayed at your apartment in Seoul. It was safe there, arguably so, and you could’ve collected all your grandfather’s belongings and had them stored somewhere rather than secluding yourself away from the rest of civilization like a recluse. 

But the guilt of abandoning the last familial connection you had with your mother out of teenage stupidity really weighed down on you, keeping you up at night and consistently plaguing your thoughts. You had originally thought that moving here into his cabin and protecting, perhaps continuing, his wildlife research would bring you some sense of closure or relief. Maybe you were wrong. 

 Letting out a deep sigh you moved to open a drawer on your bedside table, pulling out an old faux leather bound book. You had found it in your grandfather’s study while you were cleaning out some storage, tucked neatly in a hand built bookcase between a plethora of others that looked vaguely similar. The only difference was the golden wolf stamped onto the spine and cover, reflecting beautifully as the light from your lamp bounced off of it. 

When you ran your finger over the design it felt smooth beneath your fingertips, stunningly beautiful yet the only thing you could think of when you saw it was the beast that almost killed you earlier today. 

Opening the book gently, what greeted you was the illustration of a howling wolf-- the black ink contrasting the off-white page with the word ‘Lycanthropy’ written below it. You ran your finger over the ink, feeling the coarseness of the wrinkled paper as you diligently flipped the stained pages, each one filled with notes, sketches and anatomy studies of what your grandfather deemed ‘lycanthropes’. 

Of course you had entertained the idea of werewolves when younger, though once you were out of your preteen years you had scrapped the idea entirely as you knew it was biologically impossible. But when your grandfather was alive all he talked to you about was the wolves and how special they were, how they were different. You were young at the time so of course you didn’t question it, though now you didn’t know what to think. Your whole reality and what you knew to be real, not real or just simple folklore used to entertain and scare children was being flipped on you and your mind was a muddled mess.

 If these creatures actually existed, these werewolves--or lycanthropes as your grandfather so politely called them-- what stopped other things like vampires and witches from being real too? 

You shut the book in haste, anger quickly replacing confusion as you clenched your fists. What you were angry about you didn’t know, but you knew you weren’t going to let this go easily. You needed answers, and you were going to get them. 

-------- 

It’s been several days since your encounter with the wolf and the discovery that werewolves were, in fact, real. Or, so you assumed. You haven’t been outside since the attack, holding yourself up in the study to read every book that lined the shelves and sort through every scrap paper abandoned on his desk in an attempt to find answers. 

The early morning sun was beaming through the window, warm against your face as you slept peacefully. You’d fallen asleep in the study again, your face squished up against the cold wood of the desk and the ink stained papers after a long night of reading and studying. It was nothing like you’d ever seen before, every detail about every living and non living thing that dwelled in this forest was written and logged into separate books and carefully stored so they wouldn’t get ruined or lost with age. 

You blinked your eyes sleepily, stretching your arms above your head as you winced at the pain in your neck from sleeping in an uncomfortable position for days. There was an awful taste in your mouth and a pounding headache making your eyes squeeze shut in pain, the bright sunlight streaming through your window not doing much to help with the dull throbbing in your head. You suppose the lack of food, water and sleep finally caught up with you. 

Rubbing your temples with your fingertips you vaguely remembered reading about a natural migraine remedy that grew in the forest somewhere in one of your grandfather’s books. There was no asprin here, so you had to make due with what you had. 

Quickly sorting through the mess of papers on the desk you found what you were looking for, an old looking book with various plants huddled together stamped in golden ink on the front cover and spine. You flipped through the pages, finally locating a detailed illustration of the peppermint herb you needed and a description of its uses located directly below it.

You got ready quickly, changing clothes and taking care of your hygiene before grabbing the book you needed off the kitchen table and making your way to the back door. Before you could place your hand on the handle you froze, a sharp pain irritating your palm as you clenched your fist at the memory of the dangers that lurk within those woods. You weren’t as scared as you used to be, more educated and less naive than you were before but the weariness was still there. 

The metal handle was cold against the palm of your hand, the outside air welcoming against your face as you stepped outside. The weather was more forgiving than it used to be, the sun shining bright overhead and the temperature pleasantly warm. Your shoes touched the forest floor for the first time in what felt like forever, the book you needed tucked protectively underneath your arm as you made your way through the forest. 

It was hard to identify the difference between the herbs at first look as they all looked the same to the inexperienced eye, though you diligently tried your best. 

Bending down, your knees touched the wet earth as you sorted through the bushes, comparing the leaves to the ones that were sketched onto the pages. It wasn’t long until you heard the slight rustle of the bushes behind you, your fists tightening around the pages of your book. 

“You can come out you know,” you began, plucking the peppermint leaves off their stem before getting up and turning to where the sound originated from. “I know you’re out there.” 

You heard it before you saw it. It’s low growl pierced the tense air as it finally exposed itself to you, the same massive paws that pinned you to the ground and made you choke on your own fear left dents in the moist forest floor as it stepped from behind the trunk of a young redwood tree. It’s teeth were bared in a sharp snarl, its once dull amber eyes now a brilliant shade of vermillion as it stared at you in distrust. 

“I know what you are,” you spoke, voice wobbling as tears clouded your vision. “You’re a lycan. A werewolf.” 

The lycan’s growls grew louder at your confession, the hairs on it’s back rising and it’s posture getting defensive. You recognized the wolf from the one in the picture resting above your fireplace, it’s then shy gaze replaced with a look of distrust.

 It seemed just as angry and confused as you were, yet you didn’t know if that comforted you or not. 

“My grandfather, Il Sung, you knew him didn’t you. He studied your kind for years and recorded everything in his books and you let him.” The lycan seemed to falter at that, it’s posture slackening slightly-- caught off guard. You decided to test your luck, slowly stepping closer and watched as the lycans growls continued to grow, though they didn’t seem as threatening as before. “You let him because you trusted him, and he trusted you. I moved here to protect his home, his research, and by extension that means you!” 

You shook your head, the anger bubbling inside you quickly rising to the surface as hot tears stained your cheeks.  “I’m not scared of you, you beast. Why would I be?” 

Tension quickly rose, the once pleasant air now suffocating with each word that passed your lips. “You’re a coward! Nothing but a sheep in wolf’s clothing.”

Your voice echoed in the otherwise quiet forest, every emotion that you’ve managed to keep at bay and hidden inside of yourself spilling out without your consent. The anger, the guilt, the sadness-- all of it. “I have done nothing to you. Nothing! Yet you come into my home and threaten me? Me?!” 

The lycan’s growls stopped completely, it’s posture relaxing and it’s eyes returning back to their normal bronze shade as the only sound reverberating off the trees was your emotional mess. There was a quiet pause before you continued. 

“I’m not here to hurt you, ” you began, never once breaking eye contact with the creature in front of you. “I loved my grandfather more than you could know, and I’m just as hurt and confused about everything that’s happened as you are. So please, just give me a damn break.” 

The silence following was deafening, you both didn’t dare to move as you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity-- both of you standing your ground. Your face was flushed with tears as you watched in confusion as the wolf trekked closer to you, it’s movements cautious and slow. The closer the lycan got the more you noticed how large it was, reaching up to the center of your belly in height with muscles rippling through its inky black coat at each step it took. It was more intimidating than you’d admit to yourself. 

The first touch of it’s wet nose against your palm made you flinch.

 Yesterday you had finally removed the bandage from around your cut, opting to let it breathe and putting a natural ointment on it to help the healing process. It was still relatively fresh, only a few days passing from the time you had received it to now, so it stung slightly at the first pass of the lycan’s rough tongue. It’s ears were slightly pinned back as it licked your wound, looking more like an oversized dog than the beast that tried to kill you a week prior. 

Your left hand, the one that was uninjured, shook slightly as you raised it, your fingers carefully embedding themselves in the silky fur of the lycan. It stilled at the feeling, a low growl vibrating through its body before it continued its ministrations. When it was finished it stepped back slightly, its eyes flashing the same bright red it had before when it first showed itself to you.  

Stepping back, your hands felt cold in the absence of the lycan’s warmth, fingers clenching in a fist as you furrowed your eyebrows. The headache from earlier seemed to come back worse than it originally was earlier, the bearing sunlight suddenly too harsh on your eyes. 

This whole situation was oddly familiar, and it confused you. A lot.

You moved to make your way back to the cabin without another word or sparing glance, weaving through the trees and leaving the lycan abandoned far behind you. 

------- 

   Early the next morning you found yourself in the garden. The weather was still pleasantly warm, a slight breeze leaving goosebumps along your bare arms as you worked on plucking the ripe fruits and veggies from their stems and throwing away the rotten ones. Your headache from yesterday had eventually subsided after following the instructions written down for you, a fairly tiny jar of peppermint oil managing to save you from a night-long nightmare. 

It wasn’t long after that you heard it’s arrival. Although the crunch of fallen leaves no longer scared you with it’s rather cliche implications, you were still surprised to see the familiar figure of the wolf with an inky black coat standing in the treeline. 

“You’re back,” you breathed, shock flooding your features as you watched it saunter towards you. It stopped relatively close, only about six feet away from the garden where you were kneeling. At first you were unsure if it even heard you, though the huff that passed it’s lips as it sat down quietly to bask underneath the afternoon sun proved otherwise. You noticed its auburn eyes following your every move; watching, observing, thinking. 

 Knowing there was somebody residing underneath that wolf’s skin made you feel vulnerable and exposed underneath it’s heavy gaze, the lycan never once moving from its position underneath the sun. Originally you thought that somewhere in the study there would be records of the wolves that lived in the forest; their names, photos, drawings-- anything. 

You found nothing. 

It frustrated you more than you’d like to admit. No matter how much you read or studied, you still felt completely naive to the world suddenly shoved in front of you. 

“When I was younger, every summer I would come here to visit my grandpa,” you suddenly spoke, eyes intently trained on the tomatoes you were currently picking. The lycan didn’t seem to make any moves at the sound of your voice. “And all he would talk about was the wolves. It was always about the wolves.”

Getting up, you brushed the soil off your pants before turning to face the wolf completely, it’s gaze never leaving yours as you spoke. Sighing quietly, you rested the basket of freshly picked produce against your hip to close your eyes and collect your thoughts.

 It felt nice to talk to somebody after being alone for so long, even if they couldn’t talk back. 

“My mother died shortly after my birth,” you explained, moving to set down the basket on the edge of the porch. You chuckled lightly, wringing your hands together as your gaze moved to look at the clear blue sky above, tears brimming your eyes. “And my father, he hoped that by sending me here I-I would have a chance to have a connection with my mother’s side before it was gone completely.” 

Your voice was quiet as you continued. “And I gave that up for my own teenage selfishness” 

It was quiet for a long time after that. None of you moved, the birds chirping high in the treetops as they mingled together and the distant sound of rabbits running through the brush filling the void. You swung your legs thoughtlessly as you sat on the edge of the porch, the rough material of your jeans shielding you from any unnecessary splitters as your back touched the cold, rough wood when you lied down. 

You spoke up after a while of silence, voice low and impersonal as you focused on the gentle swaying of the trees. “If I could go back and spend more time with him I would, y’know?” 

The wood was rough on your elbows as you got up to rest on them, your gaze once again returning to the lycan. It still felt so surreal. “But I can’t. So I just have to make due with what I have left now.” 

You got up without another word, grabbing the basket of fruits and vegetables and moving to make your way back inside. Turning around, you watched as the wolf followed your every move with its eyes intently, a silent goodbye resting on your tongue as the door shut behind you. 

----- 

It’s been a month, and you were adjusting quickly. 

Your routine has stayed fairly the same the entire duration; during the day you would venture out into the forest to collect herbs and spices or sit on the porch underneath the warm sun, while your nights were spent locked in the study with a dull lamp glow illuminating the stained white pages. It was comfortable, you were comfortable.

Surprisingly enough, the lycan would continue to come by everyday. Whether you were taking care of the garden or sketching quietly on the porch-- it would come. At first its presence would slightly bother you, seeing as it would sit in the exact same spot everyday and just stare at you while you worked, but gradually with each passing week you managed to get more relaxed with each other. 

“What do you think?” you said, turning the sketchbook over to show the wolf the portrait sketched on it. The lycan was laying on the porch next to you, head resting between its paws and it’s coat shining underneath the glaring mid-day sun. It wasn’t too hot per say, but you couldn’t imagine the summer heat felt too good on its thick dark coat. 

Lifting its head up the wolf looked at your drawing, a huff passing it’s lips as its tail wagged back and forth slowly against the wood. It’s large paw rested on your thigh as it stretched, a low whine catching your attention as it’s large head moved to rest on your lap. You smiled, setting down your sketchbook and pencil next to you before entangling your fingers gently in the fur of its back. 

It was still kinda shocking how fast your relationship blossomed. One day the lycan refused to be more than a couple feet away from you and growled whenever so much as raised a hand to touch it, the next it whined if you didn’t want it’s head in your lap. If you were being completely honest with yourself you didn’t know how to feel about this. 

There was still somebody in that wolf, thinking, watching, feeling--and you didn’t know their name or who they were. Hell, you didn’t even know if it was a man or a woman. 

Sighing, you closed your eyes for a short moment. You felt wrong for looking, truly you did, but curiosity managed to get the best of you in the moment. 

It was a man. 

You didn’t know if that made you feel better or not. 

-------

The next day wasn’t like anything you expected. 

Your morning had started off slow, an awful crick in your neck from falling asleep with your head in a book for the third time in a row that week. It was approximately noon when you got out of the shower, feeling more refreshed than you were an hour prior and a cup of freshly made peppermint tea warming your hands. The only plans you had for today were to get more ginger root and yarrow to help with some of the dull pain from your cut, the wound healing up nicely so far--though you suspected there will be a scar left behind. 

When you had exited your cabin you had expected to see the lycan sitting waiting for you like he always does, but the spot he had claimed as his was cold and empty. You tried not to overthink it too much, albeit you were a little disappointed at the lack of company as you weaved through the trees. 

It was about an hour since you had first left, sweat started to bead at your forehead as you looked for the herbs you needed quickly. The leaves from the trees above helped shelter some of the sweltering heat and provide some shade, though your clothes still continued to stick to your body unpleasantly. 

There was an uncomfortable feeling steadily creeping up your neck, your hands stilling on the forest ground as you strained your ears to listen for anything that may be off. Behind you there was suddenly a low growl, the sound of stray twigs snapping under immense weight. 

You had thought that it was just your lycan friend--you’ve yet to actually learn his name yet, you were still working on it--fooling around and trying to scare you like he used to do. Smiling, you stood up and turned around. 

That was your first mistake. 

Gasping, you stumbled back out of fear. Standing there was a wolf, a fairly large one at that, with muddy red fur and a deranged look in its eyes as it snarled at you. It’s growls got louder as it stalked closer to you, the fur on its back raised and saliva flying from it’s canines as it barked at you in aggression. 

Your heart was beating erratically against your chest, fear coiling around your throat like a snake and tightening so hard it felt like it was hard to breathe. You stepped back, your movements slow and steady in an attempt to not show any signs of aggression--the creature not slowing any signs of backing down as it continued its advancements towards you. 

The wolf lunged at you unexpectedly, it’s jaws snapping a few inches away from your lower stomach and saliva splattering against your thighs. Fear took over as you ran, thorns and branches whipping at your exposed legs and creating blistering marks in their wake. Your lungs burned painfully, the sound of the creature quickly catching up taunting you as you attempted to outrun it. 

You were foolish to think you could outsmart a creature of speed and agility, tears of frustration and fear burning your cheeks as they fell and disappeared on the forest floor. Before you could register what happened there was sharp pain in your leg, your screams piercing the silent forest. 

There was blood. A lot of blood. Your hands shook violently as they touched the cold metal of the bear trap currently hooked in your leg, the pain immeasurable and quickly spreading throughout your entire body with no signs of rest. 

“No, no, no!” you cried, shaking your head violently and attempting to pry the trap off of you. It ended up just causing you more pain, blood dripping from the wound and soaking the dirt below you. 

The growls were back, louder than before as the creature busted through the foliage with a murderous look in its eyes. It’s barks and snarls ridiculing you as you hysterically tried to rip the metal off, hot tears running down your face and your cries getting lost in the ruckus. 

 The thought of dying out here, alone, broke your heart. 

Everything felt distant, you could feel yourself passing out. The only thing you could discern from your quickly blurring vision was two large figures on the ground, fighting and snarling through a clash of bared teeth. You couldn’t hear anything through the ringing in your ears, the sickening crunch of bone being the last thing to echo in your head as your chest heaved slowly and your fingers turned cold. You watched drearily as the figure pinned underneath the other fall limp against the ground. 

The last thing that entered your peripheral before you blacked out was glowing red eyes surrounded by inky darkness.

---------- 

  It was quiet, the only sounds in the room being your gentle breathing and the rough scratching of a pen against paper. Your fists clenched around the softness of the blankets swathed around you, the sun harsh against your eyes as you blearily opened them and grimaced at the awful, stale taste in your mouth. A headache was consistently pounding against your head, mingling with the dulled pain coming from your leg that made you whimper quietly. 

“You’re awake,” somebody said beside you, their voice loud in the otherwise quiet room. There was suddenly a warm hand on your forehead, feeling for a temperature briefly before it left just as quick as it came. “I’m glad. You’ve been out for awhile now.” 

Panic struck your entire being at the foreign voice, your eyes squinting as you attempted to look at the source through your blurry vision. It was a man, he had a somewhat baby face which was accompanied by broad shoulders hidden underneath a plain black t-shirt; his dark hair falling over the worried look on his face when he leaned over the bed to look at you. 

“Who-who are you,” you asked, your voice wavering as you attempted to back away from the stranger. There was a sharp pain in your leg as you quickly sat up, moving to push yourself against the corner of the bed in an attempt to get as far away from him as possible. “Where am I?”  

“Calm down, it’s okay,” He spoke, his voice gentle as he raised his hands to not show any harm. His eyebrows were furrowed underneath his hair, a deep frown on his lips as he moved his gaze down to your leg that was hidden beneath the sheets. “My name is Seokjin, I’ve been helping you recover from your injuries the last few days. Do you remember what happened?” 

Shaking your head, you wrung your hands in the blankets uncomfortably as you tried to process the situation. Your memory was extremely foggy, bits and pieces at the forefront of your mind but nothing too significant. A ll you could remember was the feeling of the wind burning your lungs, how the tears felt as they burned your face and the absolute fear that consumed your entire body.

You stared at the door a couple feet away from you, thinking of a way to get as far away from this person as possible. Realistically you knew that even if you tried to run you wouldn’t get that far, your injury preventing you from doing so. That couldn’t stop you from trying, though. 

“Please don’t do anything you’re going to regret,” Seokjin sighed, following your line of sight. When he looked back at you his eyes were a vivid shade of gold, almost like the wild dandelions that were growing near the edge of your cabin, your own widening in shock. 

You remembered reading somewhere about the varying eye colors of lycans and what they signified, the different ranks present in a pack. Contrary to popular belief a pack’s dynamic wasn’t based on the submissiveness of those considered to be weaker or inferior, rather it was a system built on the caring nature of a single lycan’s personality-- if they were born leaders or natural caretakers at heart.

 Omegas were blessed with yellow eyes that resembled the early morning sun and are generally the most caring, often given the weighty responsibility of caring for young pups or tending to the injured. Betas had eyes the color of the deep ocean and are regarded as the peacekeepers, the safety net. They’re calm and do most of the logical thinking. 

Then there’s Alphas. They have taunting red eyes and are the primary leaders, usually bigger and stronger than the rest of the pack to make sure everybody stays in line instead of going awry or rogue. Their main responsibility is to keep the pack safe, to lead. 

“Y-you’re a lycan?” you whispered, voice shaky. Admittedly you felt more pacified than you did a few moments prior, though you still didn’t completely trust this lycan or his intentions. 

Unsurprisingly Seokjin didn’t seem shocked by your knowing, a small smile tugging at his lips as he slowly lowered his arms to rest them by his side.

“What happened to me.” you demanded quietly. 

The lycan sighed, a distraught look on his face as a hand came up to comb through his hair. To be truthful, Seokjin didn’t know exactly what to say to that. He felt it wasn’t fair for him to speak on it further without his brother being present, afterall he wasn’t there when the incident occurred and he knew how much the other wanted to see you when you woke up. 

“I think that it’s better if Jeongguk explains that to you.” He eventually spoke, voice low and a knowing look in his eyes. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion at his reply. 

“Who?” 

“You’ll recognize him when you see him.” With that Seokjin left the room, closing the door softly behind him. You could hear his footsteps quickly fading as he left, your shoulders falling with a sigh you didn’t realize you were holding. It was quiet for a while after that, the soft chirping of birds outside seeping through the open window next to you and the atmosphere almost serene in nature. 

Curiosity managed to get the better of you, your hands gripping the blankets covering your leg as you carefully untucked it, grimacing at what you saw. Your entire lower leg was tore up, a couple stitches suturing close some of the worse ones near your ankle and a series of smaller cuts and blisters sweltering above them. Everything was covered in some form on semi-translucent film, yarrow you believed it was, and was extremely tender to the touch as you gently prodded the areas with your fingers. 

“You shouldn’t be touching that.” 

Whipping your head around at the sound of the voice, your eyes quickly landing on a figure standing shyly in the doorway. He was young, that much was obvious, no older than twenty with hair the same shade as coal and big, doe eyes that stared at you in earnest. Jeongguk, you would believe Seokjin said his name was.

 You didn’t speak as he stepped further into the room, nervousness dripping from his form like honey as he opened and closed his mouth in an attempt to form words. 

“I’m sorry,” he eventually let out, eyes downcast on the polished wooden floor beneath his feet. “This shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry.” 

Opting to stay silent you watched the boy from beneath a curious, questioning gaze. You were fairly certain you didn’t recognize his face from anywhere, but you could feel a sense of familiarity between the two of you.

 He kept his face down, hidden away from your scrutinizing gaze but you could still see his eyes turn from their normal dark brown to a deep cherry wine color at his obviously distraught emotional state. 

You could recognize those eyes anywhere, no matter what happened. It was the lycan that visited you every day, the one you befriended and grew to trust. You felt more at ease than you did before. 

Shifting on the bed, you sat up before speaking. “Do you know where am I, Jeongguk?” 

If he was shocked at the sound of his name passing through your lips he didn’t show it, opting to shift slightly closer to the bed where you were situated. You could see the apprehensiveness apparent on his face, worried about how you would react to the information he was eventually going to give you. 

“You’re in my home, we brought you here after the attack.” 

You nodded, furrowing your eyebrows as you processed his words.

“About that,” you whispered, nervous and unsure of how to word your question properly. “What exactly happened that day, Jeongguk?” 

Jeongguk sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed without thinking of how you would react and burying his face in his hands. To be honest, he felt awful about what happened. It was his fault, their fault. 

“Recently there were issues with a rogue intruding on our territory,” He began, his eyes solely focused on the birch flooring. “We were out patrolling the borders when I managed to catch his scent.” 

From there Jeongguk explained everything that occurred, sparing you some of the more gory details of the altercation he had with the lone wolf at his rather unexpected arrival, stopping periodically to gauge your reaction. It felt odd having somebody explain to you what happened to your own body, the memories still buried beneath the heaviness of shock and denial. Maybe that was for the best, you thought.

“I’m sorry.” 

Furrowing your eyebrows you moved to look at the boy, your mind still reeling as you placed the pieces together. “This isn’t your fault.” 

“But it is!” He abruptly stood up, burying his hands in his hair and his eyes shifting. “I-I should have been there, with you. We should have driven the rogue out before anything like this could happen.” 

Both of you stayed silent after that.

Technically he was right, if he had gotten the rogue lycan off his territory none of this would have happened, you wouldn’t be lying here injured and confused. But you also knew deep down he did everything he could to prevent it. 

-------- 

A few days have passed since you woke up, your leg felt significantly better than it had in the beginning and the swelling was greatly reduced after each night. Jeongguk visited you every morning and stayed a couple hours to help keep you entertained, bringing a blank notebook and some pencils with him as you two drew to pass the time. Sometimes you talked, sometimes you didn’t. But you were comfortable.

Seokjin would come in to check on you and your injury at least two times a day, washing it with cold water to get rid of any dirt that may cause an infection and replacing the yarrow treatment before bandaging it up again. 

“Where did you learn so much about medicine?” you asked one day, watching as Seokjin finished up wrapping your leg with piqued interest. 

He smiled, standing up from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed next to you and gathering up his supplies. The clothes he was wearing today were rather simple, a loose white shirt tucked into black ripped jeans. He looked good, you thought. 

“Il sung, your grandfather, taught me actually,” there was a fond look on his face as he spoke, his fingers stilling on the bowl of yarrow he used to soak your leg a couple moments prior.

“Were you close?” 

Seokjin nodded, looking at you with golden eyes from beneath his lashes. You reminded him so much of Il sung that it hurt, the look in your eyes as you spoke to him and your rather gentle disposition almost an exact copy. 

“Very.” 

--------

It’s been a week now, and you were getting considerably restless. In the entire duration you’ve been staying here you haven’t left the room once; there was a bathroom across from your bed and food was brought to you regularly by either Seokjin or Jeongguk, so you never had a reason to leave. But now that was going to change. 

Swinging your legs gently over the bed, you pushed the heavy blankets off of you and carefully made your way to the door. The wood was relatively cold against your bare feet, the obnoxiously oversized t-shirt Jeongguk had given you to wear after you took a shower brushed against your black sweats, a slight limp in your leg present. 

It was silent when you first stepped out. There were a couple other doors next to yours, all of which were closed and locked with a staircase leading down to the lower floor. Your hand held against the railing as you carefully limped down the steps, observing how everything was engrossed in a sheet of darkness with the absence of the lights being turned on. 

There was nobody in the main room from what you could tell, nor the open kitchen that was located in front of a rather large sliding glass window overlooking the backyard. The cabin was relatively modern, the walls a light birch color and the flooring darkly tinted; it felt similar to your own home, a fact that made you feel more comfortable. 

What captured your attention the most was that it was too quiet, too desolate. You knew that at least two lycans lived here, Seokjin and Jeongguk, so there had to be more hiding in the shadows somewhere. Wolves run in a pack rather than alone, so the only question was where they were. 

Moving from the kitchen to the main area, you smiled at the feeling of your feet coming in contact with the fluffy rug laid out on the floor, the material soft and warm against your bruised soles. There were a couple pictures hanging on the walls to add some decoration, but not too many as you looked around. Turning to observe more of the living area, you raised your eyebrows at what you saw. 

There was a wolf laying on the couch, a heavy blanket covering most of its body as its vivid blue eyes stared lazily at you. It had earthy brown fur, not as dark as Jeongguk’s but not that light either, cream white and tawny decorating around its snout, chest and one of its ears. You recognized it from the picture sitting above your fireplace mantle back at home. 

“Hi,” you smiled, a little put off at the prolonged eye contact it insisted on making. No matter how many lycans you surround yourself with, you’ll never get over how intimidating their eyes are. 

The wolf seemed to perk up at the sound of your voice, getting up and stretching lazily before excitedly bounding over to you. It was tall, reaching up to the middle of your stomach in height with a slightly lanky but muscular build.

 It’s snout was immediately buried in your stomach when it got close enough, sniffing and wagging its tail almost like an oversized dog. You giggled at the feeling of it’s tongue against your bare skin, it’s tongue rough against your navel as it stuck its head underneath your shirt. It was a little too friendly--you almost forgot there was actually a person in that wolf’s body instead of just an animal. 

“I see you’ve met Taehyung.” 

Turning to look at the source of the voice, disbelief took over your features at what, moreso who, you saw. Perhaps you should have seen it coming, and in all honesty you think deep down you did. You just wonder how many other surprises are out there waiting for you at this point. 

“Namjoon?” 

He flashed you a dimpled smile in reply, placing the grocery bags he was carrying in his hands onto the kitchen island. His silver blonde hair was covering his forehead, a little longer than the last time you saw him but overall nothing really changed. A couple of others came strolling in after him, their hands full with varying other items and smiles stretching their faces as they laughed at something you were unaware of. 

Jeongguk came in next, his smile immediately fading at the sight of you and Taehyung. His eyes changed to their blood red color, glaring at the wolf in front of you and the rather friendly position both of you were in. 

“Back off Tae.” He growled lowly, rolling his eyes at the smug huff that came out of the Beta’s mouth. Taehyung was testing his limits and he knew it. 

Either way the wolf complied and stepped back, the air suddenly cold against your stomach where the immense heat of his head used to be. Seokjin came in last, mumbling under his breath about something you didn’t care to strain your ears to find out, his eyes widening at the sight of you.

“What the hell are you doing out of bed?” Seokjin stammered, dropping the bags he had in his hands and quickly rushing towards your side. He rolled up the leg of your sweats to check on your injury, making sure none of the stitches were pulled in your little endeavor out of your room. 

“Seokjinn,” you whined, trying your best to balance on one leg as the lycan in question examined the other. “I was sick of being cooped up in the room all day, I needed to get out for a little bit.” 

Standing up from his crouched position, Seokjin sighed as he gave you a disapproving look. He had his hands on his hips like a scolding mother, the imagery in your head making you smile. 

“Do you understand how dangerous that could be if you pulled one of your stitches coming down the steps?”

 As bad as you felt for doing so, you completely tuned out Seokjin’s voice. You didn’t feel bad for leaving the room without his permission first, and you weren’t going to let him make you think so either, even though you knew that he was only scolding you out of the wellness in his heart. 

Your attention quickly shifted to a door that was opening on the second floor, Seokjin’s voice little more than white nose as a very sleepy looking man soon came into view. It was Yoongi, you remembered his name being, his head of black hair a mess atop his head and his clothes in disarray as he made his way down the steps. 

“Wow Yoongi, way to look presentable for guests,” One of the men you didn’t recognize taunted, laughing when the other flipped him off. He had light blonde hair and a wide smile, a little intimidating but an otherwise welcoming aura to him. 

You and Yoongi made brief eye contact as he passed into the main room, his eyes flashing blue quickly in an intimidating glare as he sat down on the couch.  

“Well since everybody is here,” Namjoon began, his voice capturing everybody’s attention in a matter of seconds. Even Jeongguk looked up from where he was stuffing his face with a sandwich you didn’t even know where he got. “I think we’re due for some introductions.” 

You soon found out that the man who patronized Yoongi was named Hoseok, his bright smile catching you slightly off guard when he directed it at you for the first time. There was another, Jimin his name was, a little short and quiet with chocolate brown hair that was parted in the middle but he has a nice, gentle smile and a good heart from what you could tell. 

-------

Later that evening you found yourself sitting on the couch watching T.V with Taehyung. Seokjin had made dinner for everybody about an hour prior, luckily he hadn’t made you return back to your room pending your full recovery so you had a chance to really get to know everybody. 

You had become surprisingly comfortable with them pretty quick, helping put the groceries and other purchases from their once a month trip to the city where they belonged while making conversation. Everyone was nice to you, even Yoongi. 

Taehyung had refused to shift back for reasons unknown to you, his head heavy in your lap as you ran your fingers through his soft fur but you didn’t complain. You could hear him whine when your fingers stopped petting him, a soft chuckle leaving your lips at the sound. In the short time you knew him, you could tell he was just attention starved and affection rather than a big scary wolf. 

The sun had set quickly thereafter, the day quickly bleeding into the night as you finally felt the effects of the day wearing you out. Namjoon, Jeongguk and Yoongi had left somewhere into the woods about an hour ago, for what reason you didn’t really know but you didn’t feel like questioning them at the time, trusting it was important. 

--------

Jeongguk groaned, the sound of his bones cracking back into place as he shifted sounded brutal even to his own ears. It was well into the night now, they had just gotten back from patrolling the borders for the third time in only a week. Ever since your attack he’s been paranoid about something like that happening again, his nights filled with sleepless regret as your attack replayed in his head like a bad dream. He tried not to think about it too much as he quickly pulled the clothes he left out on the porch over his naked body. 

“You coming?” Yoongi called out to him in a gruff voice, staring at him from his position in the doorway of the sliding glass window. The moonlight shone lightly over his shirtless pale figure. 

“Yea, in a bit.”

The black haired boy simply nodded, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. Jeongguk just needed time to think, to try to gather his thoughts before returning back inside and being forced to face his insecurities and fears. What happened that night, should have never happened. He was supposed to be there to protect you and he wasn’t, that was something he would never forgive himself for. 

A couple minutes passed before he sighed, finally moving to go back inside. His eyes immediately fell on your sleeping form, the brightly flashing colors of the T.V reflecting off your face beautifully as a smile rested upon his lips. It was the same smile that immediately was replaced by a deep scowl at the sight of the lycan currently resting on your lap. 

“You’re really pushing it, Tae,” Jeongguk growled, his fists clenching at his sides. Taehyung’s blue eyes only smugly stared at him in response, rolling over onto his back on the couch with his head still in your lap. 

“Go.” 

Taehyung growled at him quietly in response before lazily getting off the couch, the sounds of his nails padding against the wood echoing in the halls before it was replaced by the gruesome crunching of bones as they rearranged themselves back in place. You shivered at the sudden absence of the wolf’s warmth, your face scrunching up as you curled in on yourself on the couch. Jeongguk’s heart swelled at the sight. 

Moving to turn the T.V off, the room was engulfed in silence and darkness as he came back to where you were resting, gently hooking his arms around your back and knees to bring you up to his chest. He walked up the stairs to where your room was located, placing you on the bed softly before carefully tucking you in. 

He was falling, faster than he’d like to and worse than he expected.

-------- 

 The sun was annoyingly bright against your eyes, your cheeks warm and flushed as they stretched in a wide smile while you watched the lycans interact with each other in the backyard below. You could see two wolves wrestling in the dirt a couple feet away, what you recognized as Jimin’s slightly smaller form pinning Taehyung beneath his paws as his exaggerated yelps caught your ears. Namjoon and Yoongi were sitting on the porch, their fur rustling slightly in the wind as they quietly observed. You didn’t know where the other two were. 

It’s been two weeks since your attack, and two weeks since you’ve arrived at the pack house. Your injury was pretty much healed by now, minus a couple cuts and some bruises that were an ugly mix of green and purple, but Seokjin said you were pretty much ready to go back home whenever you were feeling up to it. You were extremely happy at the news, missing the feeling of fading white pages beneath your fingers and the wet soil on your knees as you took care of the garden. 

The only issue you faced now was how you were going to tell Jeongguk about it. 

Both of you have grown significantly closer, between the sparing glaces and the way your heart beats uncomfortably against your chest when one of the other pack members so much as mentions him, you would go as far as saying you fell for the lycan. 

Sometimes the two of you would spend the nights together on his bed talking about nothing and everything at the same time from dusk till dawn, other times he would lead you to a secret lake in the early morning just to watch as the sky bleeds into stunning hues of crimson and rose right in front of your very eyes. 

It was amazing, he was amazing. And that scared you. So much. 

These last few years of your life have been filled with so much pain and loneliness, you don’t know if you could handle giving up possibly the best thing you’ve ever had. Jeongguk was something that came hurtling at you out of nowhere like a bullet, ripping through your chest and leaving you scrambling at each breath. He was pain and pleasure coexisting in one, something you didn’t know if you could handle at this point in your life. 

The sound of the shower turning off managed to take you out of your thoughts, steam coming out of the bathroom as Jeongguk exited, roughly toweling his hair in an attempt to dry it and his sweats hanging low on his hips. He was in there for almost an hour in an attempt to sate his nerves, or more specifically after you yelled at him for pacing so long you were worried he would put a dent in the flooring. It gave you some much needed time to think. 

“Hey,” Jeongguk whispered, sitting down next to you on the bed and following your gaze to watch the rest of his pack below with lidded vermillion eyes. 

“Hey,” your eyes drifted down to his bare chest, your fingers reaching out on their own accord to touch the flattened scars that were littered there. They were slightly pink, more flesh toned and obviously old. The boy was quiet as he rested his hand on top yours, his skin incredibly warm and his heartbeat quickening beneath your palm. 

You took a deep breath before finally opening up to him. 

“Y’know, earlier today Seokjin said I was pretty much healed,” you spoke, linking your fingers together with the lycans quietly. You refused to look at his face, solely focusing on your entwined hands still resting above his heart. “He said that I can go home.” 

Jeongguk was quiet at that, his grip around your palm tightening slightly. At the mention of the word ‘home’ he faltered, a sharp pain in chest as he felt his heart break slightly. He knew it was selfish for him to want you to stay here with him, to live with him, to be with him--but that didn’t stop him from desiring it.

“When are you leaving?” Jeongguk whispered, keeping his eyes on your intertwined hands. The look on his face and the sound of his voice made your heart hurt. 

“Taehyung said he’d help me get ready in the morning,” your voice was quiet, your palm suddenly cold when the lycan got off the bed in haste. He stood in the center of your room, deathly quiet as he raised a hand to thread through his damp hair. “Make sure I get back home safely.”

His eyes seemed to glow in the sudden darkness of your room, the sun quickly retreating back into the horizon while the moon came to take its place in the sky. He didn’t know what to do, what to think. He knew he could still visit you like he used to, sit with his head in your lap and the feeling of your fingers combing through the tangles in his fur with the afternoon sun on his face, but he also knew deep down things wouldn’t be the same. 

 You were shocked when he came back, his palms warm against your cheeks as he looked into your eyes as he pleaded, “Stay here, with me. We can take care of you, I can take care of you. You wouldn’t be alone anymore.” 

Tears welled up in your eyes, lip quivering and your voice cracking as you looked at the desperate look on his face. “I-I can’t. You know that.” 

You couldn’t leave behind your life and everything that was entrusted to you to live with a pack of lycans, some of whom you’ve only known for a short two weeks. It was crazy, and if it was the full moon influencing his actions you didn’t know but the pleading look in his eyes broke your heart. 

 “I should go then,” Jeongguk dropped his hands from your face, backing up towards the door. He was looking everywhere but you.“The pack is waiting for me.” 

You followed him as he made his way down the steps, slower than the lycan as you attempted to catch up to him. The attempt was futile, his hands were already gripping the handle to the sliding glass door and exiting before you could even make it past the main room. “Jeongguk, wait!” ��

The rest of the pack was waiting outside, already shifted and waiting impatiently as they stared at both of you. He ignored your voice, untying his sweats and pulling them down his legs as he got ready for the run. You turned around to give him some privacy, a deep flush covering your cheeks as you jumped at the sudden sound of bones shortening and elongating, cracking and rearranging as he shifted. 

It wasn’t as quick and harmless as it appeared in movies or shows, the process agonizing long as it hurt your ears to listen to. 

You only turned back around once it was silent, watching with glistening eyes as Namjoon led the rest of the pack into the darkness of the forest ahead of you. The pale moonlight of the full moon reflected off of Jeongguk’s coat, making him appear almost a dark blue color as he slowed to a stop behind everyone else. 

He turned back to look at you, ears lowered against his head as you both just looked at each other. You didn’t know if he could see the tears staining your cheeks or the solemn look in your eyes, but if he did he didn’t acknowledge them as he ran to catch up with his brothers deep in the trees. 

----------

The entire house seemed as if it was abandoned. There was no Seokjin yelling at one of the other boys for messing around in the kitchen while he was cooking, or Taehyung and Hoseok wrestling on the main room floor over whoever gets the last strip of bacon. The worst was the absence of Jeongguk’s gentle breathing as he laid next to you, sprawled out on your bed after a long night of talking as the gentle rise and fall of his chest lulled you back to sleep. It was too quiet, and you hated it. 

It was almost six in the morning when you finally saw the first break in the treeline. The sun hasn’t come out yet, the sky still bathed in darkness but from what you could make out there were only six wolves tiredly trotting back to the house as opposed to seven. Furrowing your eyebrows, you lifted your head from where it was resting on top of your folded arms, recognizing each lycan almost immediately and noticing that the only one missing was Jeongguk. 

By the time you made your way to the bottom of the steps the pack was already shifting, their exhausted groans reaching your ears as they pulled their clothes on with tired, battered breaths. The lycan you were looking for was nowhere in sight.

“Hey, Y/N,” you jumped slightly at the feeling of a hand on your skin, turning around to see Seokjin looking at you with a worried expression on his face. “What’s wrong?” 

Confusion and worry laced your features as you looked around, your hope of expecting to see the black haired boy the more you searched dwindling. “Jeongguk, where is he?” 

Seokjin only sighed in response, a look on his face you didn’t feel like acknowledging as his hand squeezed the flesh of your arm comfortingly. He opened his mouth to speak, “I think we should go back inside to talk-” 

“No!” You pulled back from his grip, staring at him in disbelief as he attempted to shut down your inquiry. The others were looking at the both of you with empathetic gazes, making you feel gross and exposed. “Why isn’t he here, Seokjin? I need to talk to him.” 

“We don’t know where he is,” Namjoon spoke lightly, his hand resting in the middle of Seokjin’s bare back as he slowly walked up from behind him. His eyes were gentle as he looked at you, their intimidating red color not doing much to help calm you. “He’ll be back, Y/N, I promise. He just needed time to think.” 

Jeongguk needed time away because of you. You didn’t know how to react to that, your eyes downcast as the older Omega gently led you back inside. There was no protest this time, the exhaustion of everything finally catching up to you as settled to retiring yourself back to bed.

--------

Later that night you found yourself in the kitchen. It was dark, almost midnight the last time you checked, a bowl of barely touched cereal in front of you as you let yourself get lost in your thoughts. 

Seokjin had come in about half an hour prior to talk with you, not necessarily about anything specific but you knew what he implied beneath all his questions and comments. It helped a little bit to discuss everything you were feeling with somebody who actually listened, and Seokjin had a natural ability to cheer you up.

You looked up at the sound of footsteps, sighing at the sight of Yoongi quickly coming into view. It wasn’t like you disliked the lycan, you two just didn’t have the strongest connection with each other yet and if you were being honest you were slightly intimidated by the black haired boy. He was quiet, always observing and barely talking. 

Nobody spoke, not that you were surprised, the sound of your metal spoon clinking against the bowl sharp against the otherwise silent room. Yoongi stood with his back against the fridge, a bottle of water held tight between his nimble, pale fingers as he watched you with an intimidating gaze. 

“We need to talk,” He suddenly spoke, moving to rest his forearms on the kitchen island. “About Jeongguk.” 

You knew this was coming. Between Yoongi and Seokjin, you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole pack knew about what happened between you and Jeongguk. That doesn’t mean you want to speak to them about it, though.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” your voice was quiet, your eyes remaining downcast on the now soggy bowl of cereal. 

“You’re right, you didn’t.” You could feel his eyes on you, watching your face for any shift in reaction, no matter how miniscule. This is the most you’ve ever heard him speak in the two weeks you’ve known him. “But Jeongguk, he’s-he’s young. He’s sensitive.” 

There was nothing to say, nothing you could say. You knew that all of this was coming from the good of heart, but it felt like you were getting blamed for something that was out of your control. 

“I know you’re still slightly new at this,” you scoffed at that, tonguing the inside of your cheek in frustration. It sounded like he was placing the blame on you, like it was your fault Jeongguk lashed out and didn’t come back. It wasn’t though, and you weren’t going to let him, or anybody else, make it seem like it was. “But things are different for us. We don’t feel things the same way you do, we don’t understand things like you do.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you mumbled, pushing away the bowl of cereal. 

“Wolves mate for life, Y/N.” Yoongi spoke, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he looked at the upset look on your face. “And Jeongguk already fell for you.” 

--------- 

Jeongguk didn’t come back for a week. 

The wait for him was agonizingly long, not just for you but for the rest of the pack as well. By the fourth day you could see the nervousness apparent on the other’s faces, and then by the fifth you could hear the arguments in the other room and the tiny whispers at dinner. You couldn’t help but feel like this was your fault, the guilt constantly eating away at your stomach and making you feel sick. 

You knew Jeongguk could easily take care of himself out there, but that didn’t stop you from worrying about him. 

You managed to hear him before you saw him. 

It was getting pretty late, the sun quickly setting into the horizon as you sat in the main room. Everybody else had already retired back into their rooms for the night, leaving you alone as you mindlessly drew in an old sketchbook Jeongguk had given you the first few nights you were here.

 He obviously didn’t want to be heard, immediately backtracking as soon as his paw made a creak in the wood flooring of the porch. 

“Jeongguk?” you whispered, setting your stuff down on the couch before slowly getting up. The lycan looked at you with an unreadable expression on his face, ears pinned on his head as he quickly retreated back in the forest.

 Your bare feet scratched against the harsh forest floor as you followed after him, the clean clothes one of the boys left out each night in case he came back one night in your hands as you quickly caught up to him. He wasn’t running, he was hardly even jogging, instead walking at a leisurely pace ahead of you with his nose held high. 

He stopped behind a tree to shift, the sounds making your nose curl in disgust as you dropped the clothes on the floor next to him before turning around to give him privacy. You could hear the sound of him pulling his pants up, facing him again once you heard him start to walk away. 

“Where have you been, Jeongguk?” you questioned, your anger quickly rising as he made it a point to stay silent. Fresh scratches and bruises littered his sides and shoulders, the sight making you even more upset than before. 

“What happened, Guk? Why are you all beat up?” your anger was quickly replaced with worry, tears welling in your eyes at the sight of him. His standoffish attitude was really starting to affect you, you hadn’t even had a chance to properly see his face as he kept his back turned towards you but you would bet it looked just as worse as the rest of him. 

“Everybody was worried about you,” tears were falling down your cheeks openly now, the pent up emotions finally making an appearance. Your voice was shaky and low as you confessed, “I was worried about you.”

Jeongguk stopped suddenly at that, his fists clenching at his sides as he hung his head. You carefully made your way up to him, your cold palm against his hot skin making him jump slightly as you touched the center of his back. His face wasn’t as bad as you expected, a small cut on his cheek being the only thing you could see as you stepped in front of him. 

“Did you feel anything between us?” He looked vulnerable as he asked you that question, nothing like the big bad Alpha that you first met all those months ago. The thought made you chuckle, your hand reaching up to softly stroke the cut on his face. “Anything at all?” 

“Of course I did, Guk.” you smiled, your thumb tracing indistinguishable shapes on his cheek as you looked into his eyes. 

“Then why won’t you stay with me?” 

You sighed, closing your eyes for a brief moment before reopening them. He was young, younger than you at least, so you knew you couldn’t blame him for not understanding. “It’s not that simple, Jeongguk you know that.”  

The lycan nodded, the once hopeful look in his eye dying as he attempted to take a step back away from your touch. You grabbed him before he could, both of your hands cupping his cheeks as you forced him to look at you. 

“But we will find a way,” you smiled at him, your heart fluttering at the confused expression on his face. “I’m not going to leave you, Guk. Never.”

You intended to keep true to your statement, there had to be a way to figure this all out. No situation was purely black and white, and you’ll find the shades of gray in between no matter what. 

The feeling of his lips was incredibly warm as he pushed them against yours, slightly chapped but otherwise still soft. The amount of emotion he put into kissing you wasn’t anything you felt before, the feeling of his tongue sweeping against the plumpness of your lower lip and the heat from his body sending butterflies in your stomach. 

His hands fell down to your hips, pushing up your t-shirt to feel the softness of your stomach beneath his palms with battered breaths before pushing you back. You gasped at the feeling of the rough tree bark against you, his body pinning you further back as he continued exploring your mouth with his own. 

You pulled back slightly, breathing heavily and your lips red and plump with saliva. Jeongguk smirked at the sight, his thumb coming up to pull down your bottom lip with the tip of his finger before moving his mouth to the sensitive skin of your neck. The elongated point of his incisors scrapped lightly against your pulse, making you shudder at the sensation.

This was everything Jeongguk dreamed of; the feeling of your soft skin beneath his claws and the innocent look in your eyes as you stared up at him. The things he’d do to you as you lied beneath him, baring your neck in submission to your Alpha as pumped you full of his seed in hopes of putting his pups in your belly. He shuddered at the thought. 

The strands of his hair were silky beneath your fingertips, gasping and tugging at the roots as he bit down on a certain area of your neck that made your core clench. You didn’t know if he could smell your quickly rising arousal, but judging by the smirk you felt against your lips as he kissed his way back up your neck proved he did. 

“Guk,” you whispered, whimpering at the feeling of his palm applying pressure lightly against your navel. “Are we-?” 

Jeongguk opened his eyes, his hands stilling immediately as he moved his face in front of yours. “Do you want to?” 

“I do.” You nodded, moving your hands from his hair to his bare back, mindful of the bruises and cuts already there. The lycan continued his ministrations, pulling your shirt above your head quickly before making his way down your clavicle. You were hyper aware of the fact you were outside, mindful of anything, or anyone, who may be watching or listening. 

“So pretty,” Jeongguk murmured into your skin, biting and sucking marks into your breast. You whimpered at the feeling of his tongue on your nipple, sucking it into his mouth before pulling back and blowing cold air on it. His hands were on your waist, kneading roughly as he pushed his body further against yours. “You don’t understand how long I’ve wanted this.”

“Me too,” Your voice was breathy, your hands reached down to palm him slowly over his jeans as his whimpers of pleasure sent waves of arousal through your body. He pulled back from your grip, smirking at you as you attempted to reign him back in--your body cold and exposed to anybody who may be watching.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you watched him pick up his discarded hoodie, laying it out on the forest floor before walking back over to you. He led you back towards it slowly, his mouth back on yours as he licked into your mouth and his hand wrapped around your throat possessively. 

The fabric was soft against your knees as he carefully pushed you down, the feeling of his warm hand splayed around your neck making you dizzy in pleasure. 

“Guk,” you whispered, kissing one of the bruises that were blossoming on his side gently. He moved his hand from your neck to hair, tightening it in a fist as you unbuttoned his jeans, pushing down the denim to expose his cock to your hungry eyes.  

Jeongguk was big, flushed red at the tip with veins running along the skin, hot and heavy in your hand as you gripped him. Your mouth watered slightly at the sight, pushing your thighs together before licking a long stripe from the base all the way to the head. His groans made your core clench, shifting desperately for friction. 

Your lips wrapped around his cock, stretching around his girth as your tongue wrapped around the tip and dipped into the slit. The lycan moaned loudly, his fist tightening in your hair and tugging you down slowly. 

“‘S this okay?” Jeongguk asked quietly, whimpering at the feeling of you humming an affirmative around him. You worked on getting him slick with spit, a steady rhythm starting to form the more you bobbed your head up and down. 

Gagging slightly at the pressure at the back of your throat you went as far down as you could, tears bubbling in your eyes as you relished in the pleasured moans coming from his mouth. You could feel your core clenching around nothing, the wetness between your thighs making you shift uncomfortably at the emptiness. 

Pulling off with a pop saliva dripped down your chin, your hands spreading the wetness on his shaft as you looked up at him with fucked out eyes. You felt his hand wrap lightly around your throat again, the pressure intoxicating as you pushed you to lie down on the ground. 

Jeongguk’s mouth was back on yours as soon as your back touched the fabric, his forearms caged around your head. You moaned at the feeling of one of his hands coming down to rub your core over the thin material of your leggings, hips rising of their own accord to chase after the feeling.

“Mmm, you’re so wet, baby,” The lycan purred, biting down on your bottom lip with one of his incisors. It stung, you could taste the iron as blood seeped from the cut and into your mouth. Jeongguk growled at the sight, taking the chance to lick into your mouth and taste the blood on your tongue with his own. 

The feeling was intoxicating, your head swimming with pleasure as you felt Jeongguk’s rough fingers dip beneath your clothes and stroke your bare core. You haven’t been this intimate with anybody in a long time, so you were extremely sensitive to all his advances. 

“Fuck,” you whimpered, wincing at the slight burn as he inserted a fingered into you slowly. You haven’t had anything inside of you for so long, welcoming the pain that came with it.

“Gonna stretch you out nice and good,” Jeongguk whispered in your ear, biting on the soft flesh there. “Make sure you’re ready to take my fat cock, isn’t that right baby?” 

You nodded at his words, grinding your hips onto his fingers as the tightening feeling in your lower stomach kept building. His words were affecting you more than you thought, your fluids dripping down his digits and soaking your leggings. 

He hastily got rid of the offending garment, a slight tearing sound reaching your ears as you were left completely bare in front of his hungry eyes. You gasped when you were suddenly flipped over, cheek pressed up against the soft fabric of Jeongguk’s hoodie and your hips pulled high in a rather demeaning, submissive position. 

The sudden feeling of the lycan’s rough tongue on your core made you whimper from pleasure, his rough hands spreading your lips and further exposing you. You flushed deeply in embarrassment at the feeling of your juices leaking down the inside of your thighs, though Jeongguk eagerly lapped them up with no sounds of protest. 

With the pressure on your clit and the fullness of his fingers scissoring deep in your core you couldn’t help it, the budding tightness unravelling as you came onto his tongue. Your body shook lightly, trembling in his grip as you attempted to bite back your moans. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Jeongguk confessed, his mouth glistening with the aftermath of your orgasm. He gave you a little bit to recover before you felt his tip pushing against your entrance, the sensitivity from your previous release making you whimper and recoil slightly. 

His body covered yours as he leaned over you, sandwiching you between the floor and him as he pushed slowly into you inch by inch. He felt so good inside you, hot and pulsing between your thighs with each forward stroke. 

“I’m going to breed you so good, baby,” Jeongguk moaned, linking his fingers with your own as he finally bottomed out in you. “Make you take this knot and put a litter of pups deep in that little womb of yours. Wouldn’t you like that?” 

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes as he pulled all the way out before slamming back in. It hurt, but the pain mingled with the pleasure deliciously--taking everything he was giving you with a stream of satisfied moans. The only thing that managed to distract you from the pleasant fullness of your core was the mention of the word ‘knot’. You didn’t understand what he meant by that, but you also didn’t attempt to evaluate his words as your body jerked forward at the next thrust. 

Your juices were leaking all over Jeongguk’s sweatshirt, staining the fabric and making you flush at the scene when you lowered your head to peer in between your legs. The sight of your lower stomach bulging with the lycan’s cock only made you more wet, your moans and whimpers echoing in the quickly darkening forest. 

Jeongguk took notice of your fascination, moving one of his hands from your hips to palm gently below your navel. It felt better than you thought it would, your knees trembling and threatening to give out from beneath you from the pleasure. He leaned back on his knees from his previous position over you, his other palm warm against your skin as he pushed between your shoulder blades. 

“Harder,” you cried, shutting your eyes at the feeling of another orgasm quickly building. Jeongguk complied, his fingers pushing hard against your clit and relishing in the feeling of your walls squeezing him tightly. 

He was a complete mess, almost as much as you were, your cum sticky on his thighs and sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. The thin strings of your juices connecting you two together made a gross wet noise each time he pulled out, the sounds it made as he pushed back in making him growl in enjoyment. 

Your orgasm hit you like a truck, your vision going black as you shut your eyes at the overwhelming feeling. The oversensitivity made you wince as Jeongguk kept fucking you, slightly pulling away from him before he roughly pulled you back. 

“Almost there, baby,” He whispered, kissing your neck reassuringly. He was almost there, he could feel his stomach tightening with his impending release. “Take it, Y/N. I know you can.” 

Nodding, you continued to moan at the slightly painful feeling. It felt good, so good, tears falling onto your flushed, sweaty cheeks as your body jerked forward with each rub against your walls. 

Something felt wrong, the pressure between your legs was growing and getting tighter with each thrust Jeongguk made inside of you. Paired with the oversensitivity from your two previous orgasms, it hurt to feel stretched out so much. 

“G-guk wait,” you whimpered, clenching your fists around the fabric beneath you as you shut your eyes shut at the pain. “Hurts-” 

“It’s okay, It’s okay,” Jeongguk shushed, brushing your sweaty hair back from your face as he pushed you further to the ground. “You can take my knot, right baby?”

You sighed at the mention of his knot, wondering if this is what he meant by it-- the growing and painful pressure stretching your core to it’s max with no signs of stopping. You trusted Jeongguk, though, and knew he wouldn’t do anything deliberate to hurt you. “I can, yea. I can.” 

The feeling of his cum emptying inside you made you moan, warm against your walls and temporarily distracting you from the pain of his inflating knot. With one last hard thrust you two were locked together, Jeongguk moaning loudly from behind you as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. The scraping of his elongated teeth against your skin made you shiver as he continued to release inside you. 

He slowly rolled the two of you onto your sides once he was finished, gripping the inside of your thigh and holding it up slightly to prevent the two of you from experiencing any unnecessary pain. Looking down at your battered and abused core, you saw Jeongguk’s excess cum leaking from the sides of his knot; wet and sticky on the sides of your thighs. The visual made you flush deeply. 

You were beyond tired, slumping tiredly against the boy as you felt his warm tongue licking your skin. The feeling made you chuckle. “What are you doing?” 

“Grooming you,” Jeongguk mumbled nonchalantly, continuing without hesitation. He swept over your abundance of bite marks and hickeys with the wet muscle, pausing to leave little kisses on each one of them. His palm was heavy as he cupped your stomach protectively. 

“Can I bite you?” 

“Can you what?”

You looked over your shoulder at the boy, taking in his fucked out expression and incredibly flushed cheeks as he stared at you with his intimidating red eyes. He didn’t seem affected by your surprise. 

“Bite you, mark you as mine.” His voice suddenly got quiet, lowering to look at the juncture of your neck and shoulder as he stroked the skin there softly. “Make you my mate.” 

Thinking back to Yoongi’s words, you knew the implications that came with what he said. You also knew that by agreeing to be Jeongguk’s mate, you would have little to no chance of going back to the life you once had. But everything Jeongguk gave you, everything he made you feel wasn’t something you wanted to give up. 

“Okay,” You whispered, closing your eyes before reopening them and giving the boy a small smile. The look on his face was indescribable, your heart beating just a little bit faster as you both looked at each other in happiness. “Okay.” 

His lips were on yours in a second, pushing hard against your own with a smile on his face. You kissed back with the same enthusiasm, his tongue licking the inside of your mouth quickly before he pulled back. 

“It’s going to hurt a bit,” Jeongguk murmured against your lips, gently pushing your face back against the fabric so he could reach your shoulder easily. He kissed the skin of your neck lightly, your pulse hot against his mouth as he gripped your hand, running his thumb along the raised scar there. “Don’t be scared.” 

You didn’t have much time to prepare before there was an immense pain spreading throughout your entire body, your screams of pain disturbing the quiet forest around you. It burned so much, the feeling indescribable as the feeling continued to spread throughout your entire body. His teeth weren’t in there for long, pulling back out after a couple of seconds as you felt blood drip down your back. 

“Hey,” Jeongguk whispered, cupping your cheek in his hand as he pulled your face up to his. You could see the blood staining his face and teeth, dripping down his neck and chin as he consoled you through the pain. “You’re okay, I promise.” 

Looking at him through the tears you smiled, kissing the worried look off his face as the burning pain finally started to diminish. The taste of iron was heavy on your tongue. 

----------

Both of you did, in fact, manage to find a way. 

About a week after you and Jeongguk’s endeavor in the woods, he had managed to convince you to move everything from your grandfather’s cabin into your room while you moved in with him in his. It took a lot of consideration, and negotiation from Jeongguk’s side, but you were happy. 

That being said, you still visited the cabin every now and then to make sure everything was okay. 

Walking back into the pack house afterwards was awkward, you couldn’t look anybody in the eye as you walked past them, attempting to hide all the marks on your neck with your shirt while Jeongguk grinned ear to ear like a damn fool. 

It wouldn’t have mattered anyways, the smell of blood and sex tainted the air as soon as you stepped foot in the house much to yours and Seokjins adamant dismay. He yelled at both of you after you showed up, going off on how you could have at least washed off in the lake to at least attempt to hide what you two were up to, and to Jeongguk for running away like a hormonal, upset teenager. 

You were told that once Jeongguk bit you, you didn’t have your own unique scent anymore. Instead, you were permanently masked by Jeongguk’s smell to remind everybody who you belonged to. The fact made you blush when he told you, the thought oddly comforting and making your belly tighten. 

As you were packing everything into boxes to transport them back to the pack house, you had given Namjoon the picture that used to be above your fireplace mantle, now knowing who the once mysterious wolves next to him were. He thanked you immensely. 

Overall, everybody was happy. You were happy. This was a new beginning in your life, and you wouldn’t change anything that happened for the world. 

[vladdocs]

Dracula's Life from 7 to 14 - Part 1 By Lyzhina Svetlana Sergeevna (Лыжина Светлана Сергеевна) Original in Russian: http://samlib.ru/l/lyzhina_s_s/dracula_7_14_1.shtml Annotation: Dracula's life from age 7 to 14 is the darkest period in his biography. Most authors do not even try to look into this darkness, but jump straight from childhood in Transylvania to the Turkish captivity, mentioning growing up as far as it goes. I will not, however, do so... The period from age 7 to 14 is important primarily because this is when Dracula began to realize himself as a Romanian. Before the age of 7, the world is pretty narrow for a person: mom, dad, grandparents and other relatives. Before the age of 7, a child does not really care about his own nationality, because he does not yet fully understand what it is. But after the age of 7, the horizons widen, and such notions as "small motherland" and "big motherland" appear. Dracula saw his Romanian homeland for the first time when he was about 7 years old, and, apparently, this first meeting made a strong impression on him. First time in his homeland In the summer of 1436, Dracula's father took over the Romanian throne and moved his family from Sighisoara to Tirgoviste, the Romanian capital of that time, no later than the fall of the same year. As a result, the life of the 7-year-old Dracula changed abruptly: 1) he now heard Romanian speech not only from his household, but also from everyone around him. 2) Home services were replaced by visits to the temple, rich and beautiful, and the services there were conducted to the highest standard, as a well staged theatrical performance. 3) The attitude of those around him changed. Everybody bowed to little Dracula like to the king's son, and even his peers, 7-year old boys like him, were obliged to bow. 4) the way of life changed - many new servants appeared, and the dwelling became much more spacious. _ _ _ _ Historical note: The house in Sighisoara was relatively small - 25x11 m in length and width, if we do not count the inner courtyard and the side passageway. At the same time the palace in Targoviste in the mid 1430s was 32x29 meters in length and width. It is not difficult to calculate that in terms of area it was almost twice as big as the house in Sigishoara. And that again without taking into account the adjoining territory enclosed by a fortress wall of 250x20 m. On this territory there was a temple built specially for the prince and his courtiers, as well as household premises. In addition there were extensive gardens and vegetable gardens, as well as ponds for trout breeding. They were necessary because the palace regularly hosted feasts at which enormous quantities of all kinds of food were eaten. _ _ _ _ We cannot say whether Dracula accepted his new life with delight or was embarrassed, but the boy saw the mood of his parents, who were clearly happy about what was happening. This should have led the child to believe that he, too, should be happy. Intensified Learning The only thing that definitely did not make little Dracula happy was his studies, because after he moved to Targoviste, his education was taken seriously. In textbooks on the history of pedagogy, you can read that all countries that have adopted the culture of the Byzantine Empire, along with Orthodoxy, adopted the system of teaching children. Romania is no exception in this sense. As in all other Orthodox countries, teaching followed the principles formulated by John Chrysostom: 1) simplicity of life, without excesses (so that the child would not fall into a dependence on comfort); 2) education with an emphasis on spiritual values (and contempt for material things); 3) strict control (parents watch where the child goes, what he/she does, what he/she says) 4) possibility of corporal punishment in case of disobedience (Chrysostom suggests "flogging"). Education had three levels: primary, secondary, and higher. They began to study (I repeat) at the age of 6-7 years old. Primary education was completed before the age of 12. Secondary education was

completed at the age of 17. It turns out that Dracula never received a higher education, because he was sent to the Turks at the age of about 14. No one in Turkey followed the Byzantine system of education. Dracula's higher education was replaced by lessons in the Turkish language and Turkish customs... But back to Dracula's elementary education. Elementary School Elementary education included four subjects: - arithmetic (counting on fingers, on pebbles, and in mind), - grammar (in this case Slavonic), - rhetoric, - philosophy (philosophy in the Middle Ages was perceived as the first step toward the study of "higher philosophy" - theology). The process of teaching itself was a little different from today - the children sat together, but each student was taught separately by the teacher. The grammar was taught on the basis of the texts of the Holy Scriptures and the lives of the saints. Rhetoric was modeled on the works of the same John Chrysostom. In the beginning, during the lessons of rhetoric children were supposed to retell the contents of texts and tell them by heart, and when children accumulated enough knowledge, the teacher arranged eloquence contests between pupils, where they were supposed to support their words with appropriate quotations. It is difficult to say whether Dracula competed with his elder brother, because the practice of competitions existed only in Byzantium, but, for example, in Russia such competitions did not exist. In addition, all forms of rivalry between Dracula and his older brother should have been opposed by the tutors, because in the family of Dracula on the paternal line practiced a special system of state management - the king had a co-helper in the person of the younger brother. About this writes researcher M.Kazaku. Dracula's grandfather Mircea the Old was at one time co-ruler of his elder brother Dan, and when his brother died, Mircea ruled alone. Dracula's father, Dracul Sr. was at one time co-ruler of his older brother Mihai, and when Mihai died, Dracul Sr. ruled alone. Dracula himself must also have been indoctrinated from a young age to be his brother's helper. An assistant, not a rival! All training and education of Dracula should be subordinated to this idea - Dracula should be prepared to help his brother and carry out all his orders, and in case of his brother's death he should continue his work. That is to say, he should continue it, and not do anything on his own! Dracula could think of no other fate, for he had before him the example of his father and grandfather, and in the Middle Ages the power of tradition was unusually strong. Apparently, when Dracula was sent as a hostage to the Sultan, he was encouraged by the same words about the need to help the elders: "Living with the Sultan, you will help your father and older brother a lot. And Dracula must have believed it, but later, when his father and older brother died suddenly, Dracula could not immediately get his bearings. He found himself in a role as an older man for which he was not at all prepared. He had no time to be instructed what to do and how to do it, so he had to decide everything on his own, to break his usual worldview and generally learn to be a leader... But here we are, once again, off-topic. Middle School According to the Byzantine system, the secondary level of education included the study of three new subjects: geometry, music, astronomy. Geometry, Dracula and his brother, of course, studied. In addition, it is known that as early as the 11th or 12th century, a collection of quotations from Aristotle about mathematics appeared in Slavic. These quotations together formed a coherent system, so that children in Slavic countries studied from this collection as from a textbook. Music in those days meant learning church singing, but it is unlikely that Dracula and his brother had time for that, because the Byzantine educational system in the Middle Ages did NOT include physical training, and sovereign's children needed this training. The physical training in the case of Dracula and his

brother was military training, where the pupil had to master 3 skills: 1) the ability to fight on foot; 2) the ability to fight on horseback; 3) the ability to command an army so as to lead it to victory. Perhaps the list of disciplines Dracula had to study after the age of 12 also included history and politics. Perhaps, the list also included Latin, but here we can not say anything for sure, because according to the Byzantine system of education all this (Latin, history, politics) belonged to the higher level of education, which, as we know, due to a number of tragic circumstances Dracula did not reach. Practical results of "Byzantine" education In a number of articles about Dracula one can read that he was supposedly a savage and ignorant - a kind of Neanderthal, but not with a club, but with a stake, who got an idea of culture only thanks to the years spent in "enlightened" Turkey. However, all this is nonsense! Dracula was educated before Turkey, and everything I've said here about the Byzantine system of education used in Romania for the education of the sovereign's children - not just a guesswork. All of this is confirmed in historical documents. From the texts that have survived from the time of Dracula, we can see that the Romanian rulers were literate people, read spiritual literature and were able to speak beautifully. For example, the beginning of the charter from May 20, 1388, which was dictated by the grandfather of Dracula, Mircea the Old. This charter is a gift to the monastery, but before going on to enumerate what will be given to the monastery, the prince reasons about God as well as a theologian: "Whom the Spirit of God guides, they are the sons of God, says the holy apostle, and to him echoes every one who values truth and does good works, desiring to receive eternal life - to leave earthly things on earth for the reward in heaven. Blessed are those who have heard the good voice, for they hear it always: "Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. In the same way, I, believing in Christ God and Christ-loving and autocratic voivode and lord of all the land of Ugrovlakh, <...> as much as I can, want to follow this voice and glorify God, who glorified me and in glory enthroned me on the throne of my parents". That's how he bent it! Here are the results of the rhetoric lessons, which were part of the first level of education according to the Byzantine system! No wonder that everyone liked these words of Mircea. It is no coincidence that in his letter of December 12, 1424, uncle of Dracula, Prince Dan II, reproduces them, and then another relative of Dracula, Prince Alexander Aldea, does the same in his letter of June 25, 1436. Dracula himself quotes this statement in his charter of April 16, 1457. And here is how Dracula's father weaves verbal lace in his letter of August 2, 1439: "And who dares <... > violate my approval and command, such let the Lord God strike with his terrible and just judgment, and let the Holy Lady of the Theotokos speak against this man, and let him be damned on behalf of the seven holy ecumenical councils, and let him be counted among those who, like Judas and Arius, denied the Lord, and all those who betrayed the Lord to death". Of course, many edicts in those days ended with a standard curse on possible violators, but Dracula's father added to this curse, which most modern readers can appreciate only after they look in an encyclopedia. Can you tell at a glance what "ecumenical councils" and "Arian heresy" are? But Dracula's father could! And, apparently, he knew church history. That is, he was highly educated. As for Dracula himself, we can judge the level of his education by his statements, which, of course, distorted by numerous retellings, but the essence remains. For example, the episode with the Turkish ambassadors who did not remove their headdresses under the pretext that the "law" forbade. "And I want to follow your law," says Dracula, "so that you may hold fast to it. In doing so, he almost quotes

the Gospel, which says, "I have not come to break the law, but to fulfill it." And think of the burned beggars: "...I delivered them, so that they would not suffer in this world from poverty or from disease. The very course of Dracula's reasoning leads us to believe that this ruler in his time studied both the Holy Scriptures and rhetoric. Travels around the country In addition to "book sciences" and "warfare" in Dracula's education was one more component, and a very important one - study tours around the country, i.e. in Romania. However, Dracula had to perceive these trips in a different way than his older brother, because the older brother was prepared for the role of a ruler, and Dracula - for the role of an assistant to the ruler. Dracula's older brother perceived cities, villages, fields and forests as his future property. Dracula, seeing all the same, perceived it as his brother's property to be protected. If Dracula's older brother thought, "All this exists for me - for my needs and my pleasure," then Dracula thought, "I must take care of the preservation of it all. This is why in Dracula's behavior when he reached adulthood we find a motive not at all characteristic of the rulers of that time - the motive of service to one's country. Dracula was not brought up as a ruler, so even when he became a ruler, he did not get rid of the attitude that was hammered into his head throughout his childhood and adolescence - you were born to serve and help. He did all those things he did - eradicating crime, winning favourable trade conditions for Romanian merchants, waging war against the Turks - not for himself and not even for specific people. He did it all for Romania, which he called his "patrimony," not in the sense of his ownership of the land, but in the sense of his concern for it. This is how Dracula's notion of homeland was formed, which was Romania, although his early childhood took place in Transylvania.

[marvelloussynergy]

COMIC BOOK REFERENCES & EASTER EGGS - Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings (2021)

The following is a guide to all the comic book references and Easter eggs I’ve spotted in Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings along with any deviations from the source material. Note that owing to the convoluted and complex nature of comic books, I’ve tried to include only the most essential information regarding a character’s history and backstories.

In both media, Shang-Chi is known as an expert martial artist. As revealed in Special Marvel Edition #15 (1973), his comic book incarnation was raised at his father’s fortress in China. He was trained to fight by tutors and his father. At nineteen years of age, he was tasked by his father to assassinate Dr James Petrie (In the film, Shang-Chi is sent to kill the leader of the Iron Gang). After completing this assignment (in actuality Shang-Chi had attacked an android facsimile), he meets MI6 agent Sir Denis Nayland Smith, who reveals to him that his father is a criminal and not the noble man he was led to believe growing up. Shang-Chi returns to his father who confirms what he has learned. With this, Shang-Chi leaves, declaring that they are now enemies, and begins a new life in New York. Notably, this version of the character is half Chinese, with his mother being a White American. In the film, Shang-Chi’s mother, Jiang Li, is of Asian descent.

Wenwu is an amalgamation of two characters from the source material: the Mandarin and Fu Manchu. Though he claims to be a direct descendant of Genghis Khan, the comic book incarnation of the Mandarin was born to an unknown Chinese father and English mother who was a prostitute. In addition to being a superb martial artist and tactician, he possesses ten rings (worn on his fingers; in the film, they’re akin to bracelets), each of which grants him a different power. The ring worn on his right thumb allows him to rearrange matter, the ring on his right index finger can generate a concussive force, the one on his right middle finger enables the Mandarin to create a vortex from the air, the one on his right ring finger produces a disintegration beam, the one on his right little finger generates an area of darkness, the ring worn on his left thumb produces a range of electromagnetic energy, the ring on his left index finger can generate heat and flames, the one on his left middle finger discharges electricity, the one on his left ring finger enhances his psionic energy, and the one on his left little finger generates cold and ice. The Mandarin obtained the objects from the wreckage of a spaceship belonging to the Makluans (also known as Kakaranatharian).

In the comics, Fu Manchu is Shang-Chi’s father. He leads the secret organisation Si-Fan and has several bases around the world including one in Hunan, China. He’s a skilled combatant and has lived an extremely long life due to his consumption of the Elixir Vitae (In the MCU, Wenwu’s longevity is attributed to the ten rings). Fu Manchu was created by English author Sax Rohmer and featured in several novels before Marvel acquired the licence to use the character in their comics. With Marvel no longer having the rights to Fu Manchu, in Secret Avengers #8 (2010) it’s revealed that the character’s real name is Zheng Zu, with Fu Manchu being one of several aliases he’s used throughout the years.

While Xialing is a new character created for the film, Shang-Chi does have many siblings in the comics. The first one we learn about is Fah Lo Suee (another Rohmer creation), Shang-Chi’s half-sister. Although she initially sides with her father, she would go on to oppose him. Fah Lo Suee made her first Marvel Comics appearance in Master of Kung Fu #26 (1975). Then there’s Moving Shadow, Shang-Chi’s younger half-brother, who made his debut in Shang-Chi: Master of Kung Fu #1 (2002). First appearing in Black Panther #11 (2005) is Kwai Far, Shang-Chi’s sister who was offered as a bride to T’Challa. The story “Brothers and Sisters” (Shang-Chi #1-5, 2020-21)—released during production on Shang-Chi—would reveal the existence of even more siblings: Brother Staff, Shi-Hua/Sister Hammer, Takeshi/Brother Sabre, and Esme/Sister Dagger.

The Golden Daggers club is a reference to the Golden Dagger Sect of the comics, a criminal organisation led by Fah Lo Suee.

The comic book incarnation of Li Ching-Lin/Death-Dealer is an assassin and former MI6 agent who worked for Fu Manchu. He’s an experienced martial artist who wields triple-bladed weapons.

Several characters have used the Razor-Fist moniker in the comics. The first was William Young, who made his debut in Master of Kung Fu #29 (1975). Later, brothers Douglas and William Scott took on the identity. The pair first appeared in Master of Kung Fu #105 (1981). All three Razor-Fists have worked for drug lord Carlton Velcro. As their name implies, each of the Razor-Fists have had one or both their hands replaced with steel blades. The MCU version of Razor Fist, with his connection to the Ten Rings, may be partially based on the Razor Fist from Earth-13116. In this reality, the character is a student at the Ten Rings martial arts school (with the Master of the Ten Rings, Zheng Zu, being the emperor of K’un Lun).

In the comics, Ta-Lo is an extradimensional realm that’s home to the Xian (or Taoist gods). Creatures such as fenghuang, dragons, and haetae also inhabit the dimension. It made its first appearance in Thor #301 (1980).

In the film, the creature trapped in Ta Lo is referred to as the Dweller-in-Darkness. The comic book incarnation of the Dweller-in-Darkness originates from the Everinnye dimension and exists only as a head (though does use a robotic body). The Dweller-in-Darkness has the ability to cause others to feel fear, which he feeds off, making him more powerful.

There are also several MCU Easter eggs. The Blip is referenced on a poster while the Snap is alluded to by one of Shang-Chi’s friends. The street vendor from Spider-Man: Homecoming is a passenger on the bus when Shang-Chi fights Razor Fist. The Abomination (who now appears more reptilian per his comic book counterpart) fights Wong at the Golden Daggers club. Other contestants at the club include an Extremis soldier and an Asian Black Widow (we find out that her name is Helen). Wenwu watches footage of Tony Stark being held captive by the Ten Rings (taken from Iron Man). Wenwu holds Trevor Slattery prisoner having broken the actor free from Seagate Prison in All Hail the King. Shang-Chi meets Bruce Banner and Captain Marvel in the mid-credits scene.

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[katsukikitten]

Warnings College AU sexual and adult themes. Yall know the drill okay

Chapter 2

Bugzapper⚡💔: i have a proposition to make. 

Jiro flashes Mina her phone as she sips iced coffee in the blessed air conditioning of the cafe.

"That's never a good sign." She comments, moon bright eyes glued to the phone as she thinks. 

"What's not a good sign?" Uraraka asks from across the table, the two girls fill her in. 

"Oh." She racks her brain on what that could be, "Okay well I'm dying to know, now." 

🎵Music to my soul 🎶 : What do you want airhead? 

Jiro's text sent a surge of excitement through Kaminari. It was exactly what he needed after three hours of begging and bribing Bakugou to allow the sorority in or at least invite them. His fingers fly across the screen setting up a date and time for a "meeting over lunch" to discuss the proposition in further detail.  

Meanwhile across campus, you huff, eyes narrowed as a rare emotion is pulled from your fingertips in the form of deadly ice. Pulling the moisture from the air to freeze it or pulling any water towards you to keep your flank safe as your opponent rushes you at breakneck speeds. 

You hated this fucking guy, cocky, brash, so God damn arrogant in the way he held himself, in the way he spoke. It made you nauseous just thinking of him.Had you known he was the male star of this university you wouldn't have transferred, yet you still needed to transfer didn't you? Anything to get out from under the shadow of a certain Todoroki. 

No one cared to admit or to notice, that your quirk was different from Shoto's. You could manipulate water towards you to freeze, and manipulate whatever was already frozen. Your ice was denser and more durable than his and dare you say it colder than his too. Yet no one gave a shit, his was ice AND fire. You were just a one trick pony and a trick they already saw. Your opponent's taunting doesn't help matters much.

"I've already seen this before Ice Brat. Did ya forget where I fucking went to high school?" His hand heats the ice as he activates his quirk before three deafening blasts ring out. 

As you allow him to break down the ice you act on pure rage, securing some revenge from the first time he signed your hair. Pointed icicles lie in wait and once the wall is fully down you give him a nasty smirk before sending the straight his way. 

You're supposed to melt your weapons before they hit your opponent, neither of you are supposed to go all out per the professor's and college's strict rules in the athletics department but Bakugou always does. Somehow his big stupid mouth spews something that eggs you on. As if someone were shoving bamboo skewers beneath your skin, under your nails, sending you into an unheard of rage. 

Normally you were as your quirk, icy, unbothered by the world but Bakugou, God you could wring his neck. Freeze his hot blood as you watch him turn into slush beneath your feet. 

He expects you to abide by the rules, to splash him with glacier water but he realizes it too late. That you won't he let's off a quick blast, shattering two of the four deadly points. One grazes his cheek as he just barely dodges while the other lodges itself into his arm. 

You have half a mind to twist it. You pull at his blood bringing it into your arsenal. Blood red needles and bullets surround Bakugou. 

"I don't think you've seen this before.." You say darkly ready to release your hold and shred him into, give him a taste of his own medicine. Maybe he would see how bitter and nauseating he was. He smirks, opening his mouth to retort but you send your ice his way aiming for non vital spots although the ice creeps closer to your heart begging it to hit something vital. The inside of your ice palace begins to reek of burning sugar and spice, he plans to let out an explosion to bring this whole place down from the inside out. 

Just as he is about to detonate and just as the blood and ice are about to pierce skin the professor bursts into the gym.  

"I step out for five minutes and this is what happens?!"

The ice and blood return to liquid splashing across Bakugou as his skin pops. The professor takes in the damage from your ice and his explosions, still better controlled than most of his other students quirks. 

"I gotta stop pairing these two together." He murmurs to himself before dismissing class. With a flick of your wrist the ice fortress melts, returning to the reservoir below the gym floor, ignoring the molten glare that is sent your way.

"You're such a bitch." Bakugou growls as you pass, flinging blood from his fingers as he wipes at his face. You offer him a fake pitying smile before heading into the women's locker room. 

"Fucking asshole." You hiss, forcing the sight of his garnet gaze out of your mind. Instead turning your attention to your buzzing phone in your locker. It's a few missed calls and some texts in the girl's group chat. Briefly you wonder if you ever should have joined that stupid sorority, it was small, non toxic, and would look good should you need to transfer again. 

Not only did you somehow get elected the president but you also became friends with the three other ladies despite your best efforts not too. 

Mins: Prez we might have a way to save the sorority...lunch after you're done with training? 

IceQueen ❄: Hope it's good, the Dean already put the house up for sale. Let me get ready and I'll be there shortly. 

Mina presents her phone to the crowd around her, Kirishima, Denki, Sero, Jiro and Uraraka do a small celebration. Denki more so than anyone else, he knows the combined car washes will be more than enough to fix up the house, he also recently learned that you had the power of negotiation on your side. Having just listened to Mina retell the story of how you got free food for a month from a bar for yourself and your friends. And not from some sleaze who wanted to sleep with you either, no it was from the owner himself. 

Denki is hopeful and so are the ladies indicating that this may be his best idea yet. 

You arrive at the small bistro early, spying your party on the front patio. The three men had seen you in person before, they knew you were easy on the eyes but up close you were breathtaking. Manicured nails but nothing gaudy, normally nude or soft shades, light makeup, mascara at most as far as they could tell and your outfit was well put together. You were what the world called plus size but everyone else called thiccc. Your confidence oozing in your light blouse tucked into your black skinny jeans, uncaring that you had a pouch. 

You needed that extra fat to keep from freezing by your own quirk. The only thing you needed society to worry about was your intelligence and your power. 

Both were SSR ranked so what did you fucking care that your body was ranked lower. They were stupid in thinking you'd skimp power in the name of vanity. 

You recognize everyone at the table and internalize the dread you're feeling. Scheming is afoot and you're the last to arrive. You can tell by their half finished drinks and picked over appetizer, still you sit and act unaware. Denki goes to hold out his hand first for a formal introduction causing a sly cat smile to settle over your glossy lips. 

"No need, I'm aware of who the three of you are. Sero we share our lingual class, Denki, our chemistry class, and Kirishima we share two classes, world studies and villain hero theory. Truly a pleasure." You tell then your name before ordering something to drink from the lingering waitress. Sitting stick straight with your shoulders backs has the men mirroring you. 

"Well ladies I take it the plan to save the sorority involves these fine gentlemen." You ask coolly and they nod. After a moment of silence Mina and Denki go to speak. Awkwardly encouraging the other to speak until Minai clears her throat. 

"As you know they are a newly formed frat with Sero as their president. They moved into their house about a month ago and they say it is quite large. So they have invited us to move in." 

"How do you propose we ask the college to have a co-ed house? What does this fraternity home even look like?" They knew you would be quick to ask questions Mina answers the first while Denki provides the answer to the second. 

"Union and Diversity. Forming close relationships now to carry over into our hero careers." 

"The house needs some work but looks a lot better than what it did." Denki shows you before and after pictures as you gesture for his phone. He passes you his electric yellow case with nervous hope tingling beneath his skin. You swipe through the photos. 

"You boys did a great job on the outside. Inside needs a lot of work. Hardwoods will be easy to fix, they are original but don't seen to be damaged, a good scrub will spruce them up. Wait, are those?" You zoom in on the photo of the living room, "Are those foldable camping chairs and a VHS tv?" 

They gulp loudly as they nod, your purse your lips in disapproval. 

"I can fix that." You pass Denki back his phone, assuming that all the roommates will be present, "I see the main focus was the kitchen but some of the appliances seem to be on their last legs. I can fix that as well." 

"Soooo….So it's a yes?" Jiro asks, feeling relief for the first time in months since they received the letter of eviction. 

"Gotta get the college to agree first." You think on it a moment, "But I'm sure we can arrange that. Uraraka can you draft an email to the Dean requesting an official meeting regarding our sorority? Be sure to explain in detail our situation, how we are being forced to disband by their account and the solution we have. Make sure it's an afternoon meeting too. The dean hates to miss golf with our rival university's dean." 

With the plan set in motion all of you return to your evening classes. Jiro nudges Denki in the ribs, listening to his heart race from their closeness. 

"When are we going to tell her about Bakugou?" She throws her almost lover a look that he seems to wither beneath. His jaw tics before he retorts. 

"I think we should wait to see if this even works first." 

After a week the important meeting arrives and as you thought the Dean is already exhibiting signs of impatience. He is more than ready to wrap this up and you already know his answer is going to be no. Already trying to get it out before the four of you can even have a seat. 

Still you weren't the Ice Queen on campus for nothing. You saunter into the room, mineola folder filled with your copies of counterpoints pressed firmly to your chest, you can already see he doesn't have the copies you sent him. You place the folder down and open it, leafing through the pages as you speak. 

"This request is going to be approved and here are the reasons why. An example of sexism could be made that a new fraternity was approved housing, new housing, after a decades old sorority was deemed "too small" both parties are similar in count. Second funding and donations are easily influenced with letters to alumni and especially by attendees to this university. My transfer from YAU has brought in revenue of roughly 2.6 million dollars, increasing your diversity for women when this is normally a male dominated school. I am aware that my transfer had even encouraged other students from YAU to transfer here. Which I'm sure is one of your favorite bragging points to tell Dean Fraunk during your weekly golf trips isn't it? So it would truly be a shame if these points would come to light in the investigation of my return to YUA just months before the university sports festival. I do look amazing in Ice Blue you know. Matches my quirk a lot better than Maroon." You put the ball in his court, he is visibly upset, eyes flying to the facts that you've presented. All important, viable facts. You were right MMU was known to be a male dominated school and the media would have a field day if they uncovered a mistake he happened to look over. Not to mention you were his main bragging point, Dean Yuzi always talked about how he had stolen you, the female star of rising heroes, from YUA.  The silence in the room is amplified by the ticking of the clock, seconds accumulating into minutes as it counts down his T time with his old college buddy and rival. He gulps nervously, knowing what he has to do in order to keep both his bragging rights and a law suit under wraps. He looks up to you as you wear your stone cold face, making him think of a loan shark who hasn't been getting their payments on time. He is fearful for your future boss.  

"I believe I have no choice but to approve." 

"Correct." You respond, "Now we have a bit more to discuss. I noticed that classrooms 456 and 215 are being remodeled. Those gently used flat screens will be given to our house since it is technically college property. Common space 3 and 1 are being renovated in dorms A and B. We will accept the leather arm chairs as they are in good shape but we demand a new couch. I know it is in the budget as I help plan the budget. I also believe it is time for an allowance for our hybrid house." The Dean shrinks away from your tenacity, nodding as that is all he can do.  

"Well this is a generous offer and should cover most of the basic necessities such as a new fridge and mattress. The aesthetic we will be raising funds for. Kindly spread the word, we don't want to take up more of your time and be late with your 'meeting' with Dean Fraunk." You place a flyer on his desk as you turn on your heel. The rest of the sorority, mouth agape following suit. Yuzi looks down at the flyer, head hung in a mixture of disbelief and shame as he reads over the neon paper advertising a co-ed car wash. 

He just hopes you and Bakugou are worth the trouble. 

[lillywillow]

From Russia With Love

Summary: When Steve and Bucky investigate an old HYDRA base left over from World War II, they find something nobody could have ever predicted... A pilot from the legendary 588th night bomber regiment frozen in time.

 Word Count: 2117

 Square Filled: Military Base

 Pairings: Bucky x Female Reader

 Warnings: WWII warfare, slight angst

Written for @star-spangled-bingo

 Author’s Note: Although I will be using real historical people and events, some of the names and actions I will be using are fictional. The 588th night bomber regiment were an all female squadron from Russia in World War II. They were given hand-me-down men’s uniforms and poor, outdated equipment. Their planes were not designed for combat. The planes let out a whistle as it idled through the sky which the German’s thought sounded like a broomstick, giving them the nickname ‘Die Nachthexen’ or Night Witches.

 Germany, 1944. Three Polikarpov U-2 biplanes move silently through the night sky, their engines cut at the behest of the navigators. A soldier was making his rounds about the perimeter of the base when an unearthly scream pierced the air. A chill ran down his spine as he looked around. Suddenly, a shadow of a plane darkens the ground. The soldier abruptly realised what was happening.

 “Die Nachthexen!” he screamed. The base was rapidly brought to life with activity when the air raid siren wailed. Soldiers rushed to man the anti-aircraft guns as the Night Witches dropped the first bomb. Two of the planes broke formation to draw away the ground fire as the third dropped the next bomb. The last plane made a sharp turn and was able to drop the last bomb on the base. With their mission complete, the engines went back on and the planes headed home to Russia.

 Out of nowhere, a German fighter plane appeared. The biplanes were slower but their much smaller size gave them an advantage in the fact they had a tight turning ratio but for one plane, it wasn’t enough. One of the pilots cried out in pain as a bullet grazed her arm. The canvas wings of the plane were ablaze, there was no other option but to bring the plane down. The navigator held the pilot’s shoulders to steady her as they crashed into the ground.

 Dazed by the impact, the pilot held her head, feeling something wet and warm drip down her face. She turned behind her to check on her navigator whose head was slumped to her chest. She reached for her hand.

 “Yelena... I’m sorry...” Black spots swam in her vision before the darkness took over.

...

Germany, present day. Steve and Bucky were called on a mission to investigate what was possibly a HYDRA base left over from WWII. On their way in, they noticed the remains of a downed plane a few miles out from the base that nature had taken over in the course of sixty years give or take. On the surface, it had the hell bombed out of it. Steve managed to find a charred door in amongst the wreckage and went in, Bucky following behind. Underground was a rabbit warren of rooms and passageways, their secrets lost to time, waiting to be uncovered.

 “We should split up,” Steve said, getting out his flashlight. Bucky nodded and got out his own. The duo headed in, checking each and every room for anything that might be of HYDRA origin.

 This place gave Bucky the creeps and bad memories began to invade his mind; memories of when he lost his identity of Sergeant James Buchannan Barnes and given the new one of The Winter Soldier. Room after room they looked in until Steve found something.

 “Buck, you gotta see this...” Bucky made his way to where Steve called him to and whatever he was expecting, this was not it. The room was still lit with sickening fluorescent lights. In the back corner, there were two pods. One was empty, whatever test subject it held was long gone. The other had a woman still cryogenically frozen inside. Bucky placed his right hand on the glass.

 “She’s just like me...”

 “Think you can make sense of these?” Steve asked, holding up a dusty file written in German. Bucky picked them up and read through the notes. It stated the woman’s name and why she was there. There was also information on a second woman, presumably whoever was in the second pod. Apparently, they were going to be used for a programme akin to the Winter Soldiers or the Red Room but the project had been scrapped and only one of the subjects was moved.

 “I’m going to let Fury know what we’ve found.” Steve headed out to make the call but Bucky stayed behind. He couldn’t leave this woman all alone now that he knew she was there.

...

 Feeling a pounding in your head, you opened your eyes. Slowly, you sat up, looking around. You appeared to be back in your base. Funny... you didn’t remember making it back. The last thing you remembered was crashing after completing a mission. Was a rescue sent out and that’s how you got here? You spotted another woman in one of the other beds. Steadily, you got up and went over to her.

 “Come on, Yelena. We’ve got another mission,” you said, shaking her shoulder. As she sat up, you immediately noticed that this was not your navigator.

 “You’re not Yelena...”

 “No, I’m a new recruit. My name is Natalia Romanova,” she replied in Russian.

 “Well I hope you’re a quick study, Natalia. Major Bershanskaya will not make things easy for you. Now get ready. Training for you starts now.”

 As you got dressed, something struck you as very odd. Your uniform fitted perfectly like it was tailored for you and your boots weren’t oversized. It set off alarm bells in your head but you didn’t want to frighten the new girl. As you headed out, you saw an officer standing and waiting for you.

 “Who are you?” you asked, confused as to why this man would be here, especially one who looked so high up in command. Something else that you noticed was that there were planes around the base.

 “I’m your new commanding officer...” That did it. There was no way your commander would leave her girls. You managed to snatch his sidearm but even faster, Natalia had you in a headlock, one hand holding the wrist you held the gun.

 “Who are you?! Where am I?! What have you done with Yelena?! Where is my navigator?!” The pair exchanged a look and conversed in English, something you didn’t understand.

 “I can explain everything... just give me the gun,” the man prompted. Slowly, you handed him the sidearm which he put away and Natalia let go of you.

 “You have been asleep for over sixty years...”

 “What?! How?! We... we were just there... and... Yelena! Where is she? Is she okay? Is she safe?” The pair exchanged another look.

 “You were the only one we found in the base...” You broke down sobbing and straight away the man held you up as you trembled. He rubbed your back and stroked your hair which you found strangely comforting. How could you have been asleep for sixty years? It was only hours ago you were flying to drop bombs on German bases.

...

 A few hours later, you were sitting by the window of the room which had been set up for you thinking over all the new information which had been given to you. They had given you new clothes but the only ones who spoke your language were the ones you met at the fake base camp. Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

 “May I come in?” A male’s voice asked.

 “Yes...” The man who you came to learn was named Bucky walked in with a plate of food.

 “I thought you might like something to eat...”

 “I’m not hungry...”

 “I know what you’re going through but you still need to eat...”

 “How could you possibly know what I’m going through?! Do you know what it’s like to be with friends one minute and find out they’re all gone?! To wake up in a strange place with strange people?! To have no idea what the hell is going on?!” He was quiet for a few moments.

“Actually... I do.” You were taken aback from his response. Bucky sat down on your bed and began telling you his life’s story.

 He told you about his best friend Steve who always used to getting in trouble. He enlisted in the American army the moment he could. His time in the Howling Commandos. About how he fell off the train and became a weapon for HYDRA for decades. As he spoke, his eyes began to ghost over, reliving the old memories that you could see were haunting him. You sat next to him and held his hand. Bucky hastily wiped his eyes.

 “What about you? Tell me your story...”

 You smiled softly. You told him about your father who died defending Osowiec Fortress and how it inspired you to fight for your country. When the call went out for women to fly bomber planes, you and your best friend Yelena Belsky both applied and got in, you as a pilot and she as a navigator. You flew many sorties together. Your commander Major Yevdokiya Bershanskaya was stern but fair with you girls but taught you everything you knew. You spoke about your last mission, the one you were on when your plane was shot down.

 Bucky listened to your every word, looking at you with total admiration. Most of the men looked at you with pity or distain. You couldn’t help but blush a little under his intense gaze.

 “I, um... I think I’ll have something to eat now,” you mumbled, taking the plate he brought with him. “Thank you...”

 “Anytime... if you ever want to talk, you can always come to me. Nat should be available too...”

 “I appreciate that.”

 To Bucky, those memories were a lifetime ago but to you, they were only like yesterday. It somehow felt good to share those stories with someone who understood what it was like to go through the same thing you were.

...

 The months flew by and before you knew it, a year had passed. Between Natasha and Bucky you were now fluent in English. They taught you hand to hand combat and other things you would need to join The Avengers, although, you were pretty much an ace pilot when it came to the jets. Natasha became your best friend and you frequently spoke in Russian with her. You formed a bond with Steve too once the language barrier came down, sharing war stories with each other but the person on the team you were closest to was Bucky. He taught you a lot over the months and it wasn’t long before you started dating. It was inevitable.

...

 One night, you were standing on the balcony, looking at the moon and thinking about that fateful night you were assigned to bomb that base all those years ago. You wondered if your friend was dead or alive. The team had told you they would help you find her, searching all HYDRA archives they came across and Bucky helped you to follow every lead. Your heart hoped for the best but you knew to expect the worst.

 “Hey, Doll.” You turned to see Bucky standing in the doorway. He walked over to you and put his arm around you, kissing your head. “What’s on your mind?”

 “Yelena... I can’t help but hope that I’ll find her one day. She was like my sister. Natasha has been wonderful, you all have but it’s hard being stuck in the past...”

 “Tell me about it,” Bucky muttered softly. “You know... it’s been just over a year now since we met...”

 “So it has,” you wistfully replied. “Time sure flies...”

 “It sure does... and I don’t want to waste any more of it.” You looked confused as Bucky pulled away from you.

 “When I was called on that mission to uncover an old HYDRA base, I never thought I would meet the love of my life. You’re one of the bravest, strongest, most incredibly women I know. Will you marry me?” Bucky got down on one knee and presented you with a beautiful ring. You couldn’t help but tear up.

 “Yes, Bucky, I will!” Bucky smiled and stood up, sliding the ring on your finger and kissing you.

 Who knew that a German base lost to time would connect two military personals so perfectly together?

[thevindicativevordan]

On Supergirl

Figured I should put up my thoughts about Kara in the wake of her first film appearance being announced, and the final season of her TV show fast approaching. Short version is: Kara is very cool and DC needs to stop messing with her. 

My Introduction to Kara

I was introduced to Kara the way most millennials/Gen Zers were I imagine, via the Loeb Superman/Batman arc which brought the traditional Kara Zor-El Supergirl take into Post-Crisis continuity, after years of DC attempting to have a “Supergirl” without violating the editorial mandate that Kal needed to be the literal “Last Son of Krypton” (an example of one of the dumb ways DC fucked Kara over). Story goes that one day Dan Didio was in line at the Superman ride at Six Flags (I love that ride even though it’s stolen my glasses every time I’ve ridden it, even when I left them in a locker!). The ride had signs that talked about various Superman characters. Didio was reading the entry for Supergirl where it talked about her not being Clark’s cousin but instead some weird merge of alien shapeshifter, angel, and human girl, and he realized how fucking stupid that was, and he went back to the office and told Loeb to bring Kara back. 

Years later I would also be standing in line at the Six Flags Superman ride (probably at a different park location but who knows?) as a youngster and would read the new Supergirl sign that trumpeted that Superman had a cousin who shared all his powers, an update reflecting the new Loeb origin. I thought she sounded pretty cool, made a note to see if my library had any Supergirl stories next time I visited, then got on the Superman ride and promptly lost my glasses like an idiot because I wanted to take them off while I was riding and pretend I was changing from my “disguise” into Superman mid flight. My dad grounded me for this afterwards, but it gave me a funny story to tell at family get togethers and isn’t that what Six Flags is all about?

A month later (and with spiffy new glasses), my mom dropped me off at a new library next to where she worked, and they had one of the best Superman collections I’ve ever seen to this day. I was in heaven and while reading every Superman book I could find (I couldn’t check them out because I didn’t have a card, my mom’s card didn’t cover the area the library was in, and my mom wouldn’t have checked them out anyway since comics were “too violent”), I found the trade collecting Kara’s new origin. I read it and I thought both she and Superman were really cool, and Batman was a  punk who had to beat Darkseid by cheating, the loser. Turner’s art to my young eyes was the best I had ever seen, and the panels got engraved into my brain. 

I still get downright nostalgic whenever I see Turner Superman or Supergirl stuff. I also got my parents to rent the animated movie adaption of the Superman/Batman arc from Blockbuster (remember those?), and that sealed the deal. Seeing Kara hold her own against Darkseid convinced me she was as cool as her cousin. Next time my mom dropped me off at the library next to her workplace, I went looking for Supergirl stuff to read. I found the first volume of her new volume by Joe Kelly taking place after the Loeb arc and dove in.

It was... weird. 5 years later I might have enjoyed it but at the time I was majorly put off. Kara took a secret identity for a day and then ditched it because it was “stupid” and the kids bullied her. She was always getting into fights with Kal, and there was this weird plot that I couldn’t follow about how her dad had sent her to kill Kal, maybe or maybe not? Also she could grow crystals which I thought was dumb, and said she was stronger than her cousin which I couldn’t buy for a second given he looked like he was carved out of marble, and she looked like she relied on sunlight instead of food. I put the volume back on the shelf and kinda gave up on reading the character after that for a while. 

I followed her via the DC wiki updates just like I did Superman, and everything I read seemed dumb and convoluted. She was split in two, moped around a lot, made out with an alternate version of her cousin, and basically just flopped about the same way the rest of the Superfamily did during the 00s. Nothing made me think I had made a mistake dropping Kara until I read the latest update to her wiki page.

I was super into what I was reading about the Busiek/Johns era of Superman online. Lex was back and making a big revenge scheme that involved all the other Rogues! Old Superman Rogues were getting revamped and made cool again! Johns reintroduced Brainiac and made him a big threat, with Kal and Kara teaming up to fight him! Busiek was revamping Prankster and telling big ambitious Superman stories! For the first time in a long while, the consensus on the Internet was that Superman was good again. My “home” library had zero Marvel books and no Superman or Batman books, all their DC stuff was Flash or Green Lantern, mainly written by Johns. Insane to think back on now. My hopes that because Johns was involved with Superman, Superman books would show up at my library were fulfilled. They started bringing in Busiek and Johns collections, and someone there also ordered Sterling Gates’ first volume of Supergirl, and I checked everything out since I was old enough to have my own library card, and my parents were worried more about the violent video games I was playing rather than comics.

I read everything and loved it. I also really liked Gates’ take on Kara. She was still an imperfect teenager but she wasn’t insufferably angsty or constantly fighting with Kal. She was going to give the secret identity another try and Lana had “adopted” her. It’s funny remembering how I enjoyed all that given my current thoughts on how Kara should work, but it was great at the time. I liked Gates introducing new foes for Kara, some classic Superman Rogues adapted for her like Bizzarogirl, others crafted specifically for her like Reactron. Gates’ basically rekindled my enjoyment of Kara the same way Busiek & Johns rekindled my enjoyment of Superman.

Of course it ended terribly like everything Superman-related seems to.

I’ve got a whole post I want to do about New Krypton and what came after. In short that is the most blatant example of “hitting the reset button” that I’ve ever seen. All the potential got wasted, and afterwards everything except Lex’s Action Comics stuff just didn’t appeal to me. Gates got booted off Kara for Nick Spencer who ended up leaving himself later, a promising Teen Titans line-up with Kara on it didn’t happen, and the last proper Pre-Flashpoint Superfamily story was a crappy team-up with Doomsday against Bigger Doomsday (thank God for Cornell’s final Luthor/Superman confrontation at least). When news of the reboot arrived, I was honestly happy. The Superline needed an enema.

Controversial opinion time: I liked New 52 Supergirl. It’s weird because a lot of the stuff I hated about Kelly’s run was here, and a lot of the stuff I loved about the Gates’ run was not. This was angry, moody, emotional Kara again, fighting with Kal and not fond of Earth. But I was in my teens at this point, and I didn’t want happy go-lucky Superman or Supergirl. I wanted my heroes angry, scared of the future, ready to go out there and smash some cars. Morrison’s Action Comics was 100% my jam (still is once I really understood the deeper meaning beneath the work) and this Kara felt like a natural fit for this universe. Plus we got Asrar on art and that guy made it damn pretty to look at, lots of cool science fiction stuff going on, even with the dumb H’el storyline.

I loved all the new Rogues Kara got. I loved her new Fortress under the ocean. I loved how traumatized she was by the loss of Krypton, that she wanted more than anything to go home, that her cousin was like a stranger to her since they had been apart for so long. I found all of that incredibly relatable. A lot of the New 52 Supergirl stories might have been schlock but it was my type of schlock damnit, and I enjoyed it!

I kept with her New 52 series all the way through the Red Daughter Saga (which I loved). As someone who grew up on Johns GL (since that was the only comics my home library had), seeing a Supercharacter join a Lantern Corp was the hypest thing ever. I loved the finale about Kara finally letting go of her anger and losing the ring while smashing her foe into the sun, it was incredibly cathartic for me as an angry teen myself. I finally stopped following her series sometime after since I was no longer enjoying the Superline or really DC as a whole. It wasn’t until I heard that New 52 Superman died and the “old” Superman was back, that I checked back into DC.

DC Rebirth & How I Think Kara Should Work

I did not enjoy Supergirl Rebirth, and I think I’ll talk about my problems with it alongside how I think Kara as a character should work since the two are related. A pet peeve of mine that has formed over the years is this: I don’t like it when Superfamily members get turned into Clark clones. Kon wearing glasses and going to Smallville High. Kara going to high school and being involved in journalism. Jon more or less being written as a copy of his dad personality-wise. I hate that kind of stuff because it’s boring. What’s the point of a Superfamily if everyone is just copying Clark? It also doesn’t fit the characters especially in Kara’s case. Why the hell does she want to be a journalist? Were there journalists on Krypton? I don’t remember ever seeing one! Shouldn’t she want to be, I dunno, a scientist? That seems to have been the El family tradition, wouldn’t she have been groomed for that?

This one-off by Shea is honestly the only acceptable outcome for Kara going into journalism for me. She realizes she’s just copying her cousin and switches to something she wants to do. So Orlando copying the show, which already basically turned Kara into an expy of her cousin, just did not appeal to me at all. What had worked for me under Gates way back when was not clicking for me this time. I wanted to see Kara embody the principles of the S-shield in a different way than her cousin did. So I really enjoyed when Rebirth ended and we moved into the Bendis era with Andrekyo relaunching the title as Kara in space.

Kara in space has always felt like a good fit for me. Unlike Kal I’ve come to believe that Kara really shouldn’t be all that fond of Earth. For him it’s home, but for her it’s just where she ended up after her real home got destroyed. I think Kara works well as a sort of nomad, occasionally making stops back home to Earth to check on her cousin, but otherwise? She’s more comfortable out in space than she could ever be on Earth. Out in space she can be Kryptonian (which is what she should think of herself as in contrast to Clark being torn between his Kryptonian biology and human upbringing, and Jon/Kon identifying as human), be her true self, not have to pretend to be human to fit in. Kara founding a moon refuge was one of the best ideas for her that I’ve seen, I would love if DC made her Future State refugee center on the moon canon. I’m excited for more Kara adventures in space with the upcoming Tom King story.

Also love that her and Krypto are getting tied together, if they don’t want to use Krypto in Superman’s stuff, let her have him! Bring on cosmic adventurer Supergirl!

Personality & Other Traits

Kara to me should be more hot-tempered than her cousin. All the Superfamily members should have a temper in my opinion, I see that as the “Deadly Sin” of Superman and his family. But while Kal is like a simmering pot that will explode if it’s left cooking for too long, Kara is like dynamite. Light her fuse at your own peril because she will go off on you.

I also like the idea of Kara being rash. Kal’s got a maturity that came from over a decade of having to live with Lex Luthor constantly getting away with all his evil schemes. He’s patient because he’s been forced to be. Kara? If you ask for her help she’ll give it, but beware because she doesn’t really care about the long term impacts of her decisions. She’s an invulnerable teenager after all.

Really liked that Venditti Annual where Kara got tutored in history by a reincarnation of Hawkman. Kara having a passion for history is a neat trait, would be nice to see her teach Kal or Jon some Kryptonian lore, or have her lead a Kryptonian holiday celebration for the Superfamily because she’s the only one who remembers how to do it. 

Sexuality wise I know a lot of people ship Kara and Lena on account of the chemistry between the two in the show. I haven’t watched the show myself but I’m fine with making Kara bisexual, the Superfamily could use some LGBT+ rep, and Lena hasn’t done anything of worth as a villain, so undo that and throw the two together. If we’re letting Harley and Ivy get away with murder I think we can let Lena off the hook too, undo the Ultrawoman weirdness and put the two together. Could be fun seeing the two building that moon refuge together.

All in all I think Kara is a great character who is a stronger embodiment of the immigrant experience than even her cousin in some ways. I hope King does a good job with her, she’s treated better than her cousin on the film side, and that overall the 20s are a better decade for Supergirl than the 10s were.