#like how she concedes ground to him and looks towards his leadership

[evocatiio]

FROM (2022 - present)

S01E03 // S03E02

[itsscatballou]

Justified, pt. 2

The final piece of the Negan series.

Warnings - some language, implied smut, 18+ only.

It took me a long time to write this one - I kept going back and forth on who she was going to choose. I hope you all like the ending. As always, feedback is welcome! Thanks for reading along.

She hadn’t expected to see him here, in the Kingdom. But then, she did tell him not to go to Rick. She hadn’t known where he would end up, the Kingdom was as probable as any of the nearby settlements.

She didn’t know what they must have thought of her here, opening the gates to find her leading an army of their enemy, begging for help and shelter. It took a long time to convince them of her story. King Ezekiel finally conceded that while she might be telling the truth, they could not take in this many people. He did help them scout out a few buildings nearby, big enough to fit all the Saviors (ex-Saviors?) for a few days. He was gracious enough to provide them food for those few days too. The workers from the Sanctuary who had caught up with them later brought a big stash of food as well, so that took a little of the pressure off.

She’d wanted to ditch them all on their journey to the kingdom, and she thought seriously about doing it. She could easily just excuse herself to the woods to relieve herself and then just keep going. But convictions wouldn’t let her. She’d started this – she’d won their allegiance and their support enough to abandon their best chances at survival. She’d convinced them to turn against Negan and follow her. She was responsible for them now, no matter how much she did not want to be. The Kingdom was the only place she could think to take them, and she’d hoped she could pawn leadership of them off on Ezekiel, but he’d made it clear that would not happen.

Exiting his crown room – an old school theater – after a few long hours of arguing and planning with the helpful King, she paused to breathe. A heavy sigh escaped her as she pinched the bridge of her nose, frustrated that she would have to continue in this position of leadership for the time being.

“Heard you were here,” a deep voice grunted behind her. Surprised, she whirled to find the source of the familiar voice and found herself face to face with Daryl. He was leaning against the wall beside the door she’d just come out of. He looked as gorgeous as she’d ever seen him, muscular arms bare in his cut off sleeves, his hair recently washed, and his wounds from the Sanctuary healed. She didn’t move, but took in every inch of him, checking him for injuries or signs of anything wrong. Satisfied that he was unharmed, she half jumped to clear the space between them, embracing him so hard he would have fallen over had he not already been supported by the wall. He wrapped his arms around her too, hesitantly at first, and then tighter until she could barely breathe. She didn’t care.

The hug seemed to last for minutes, and she only let go enough to move her face to his, instinctively leaning toward his mouth with hers. Before the kiss landed, guilt dropped on her like a ton of bricks, and she found herself pulling away to search his face instead.

“You’re okay?” she asked, brushing hair from his face to see him better.

He met her eyes for only a second before looking at the ground and he responded, “yeh, I’m a’ight.”

There was a tense pause, she had so much she wanted to say to him, so much she wanted to explain, so much she knew would hurt him. She couldn’t find the words, and right now she didn’t have the time.

“I need to see Rick,” she told him, breaking the long silence. “Will you take me?”

“Yeh,” he responded with no hesitation, “I’ll get the bike ready and meet you at the gate in a few minutes.”

As she watched him walk away, her heart ached. She had given so much of herself to free him, and she would do it all again without question. But the stuff that came after… would he love her if he knew? Would she be able to let him? He deserved so much better.

She pushed the thoughts and the lump in her throat down as she walked to the gate to meet Daryl.

--------

Her hand touched the doorknob in front of her. She yanked it back, looking around her in confusion. She didn’t remember walking here. She had set out from the Grimes’ house for the infirmary to see if there were any tampons there - thanking whatever higher power had kindly prevented her from getting pregnant. She and Negan hadn’t exactly been careful about that. She must have gotten lost in thought, and now she was staring at the entrance to the basement where Negan was kept in a cell.

She’d been back in Alexandria for a few days and had effectively avoided getting within twenty yards of this door. She was confused and slightly irritated that she’d somehow ended up here without thinking. Shaking her head to clear it, she turned to resume her journey to the infirmary.

“I can see your shadow from the windows of the door,” she heard Negan call from inside. “I’m in a cage, you don’t have to be afraid to come in. I know you all want to spit in my face!”

She blew a deep breath out and opened the door. She knew nothing good could come of this, but something deep within her pushed her forward.

“Well, if it isn’t my lovely wife,” Negan cooed as she came into view. “I was wondering when my conjugal visits would begin.” He grinned that wicked Negan grin, and she forced herself not to return it – she’d grown to enjoy his dark sense of humor during their time together.

“I’m not your wife,” she replied curtly, “and definitely not here for that.”

“Well, your tune sure has changed,” Negan answered. “If you aren’t here to bang one out, why are you here?”

“Honestly,” she said hesitantly. She knew she shouldn’t continue, but that same thing that pushed her in here kept her talking, “I’m not sure. Maybe part of me wanted to taunt you, to see the fruits of all my labor.”

Negan looked her over for a long moment.

“Or,” he replied, his dark eyes surprisingly soft, “maybe part of you wanted to see if I was okay - if we were okay, after you put me in here. Maybe you’re lonely, and realizing you miss me a little. The reunion isn’t going quite how you hoped, is it?”

She studied his face. She found no trace of mocking, only a knowing look. Her days here had been harder than expected. Rick had welcomed her with a warm hug, and they’d been deliberating for days about what to do with the large group of Saviors now in need of a leader. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t quite trust her. In fact, there was a tension between her and everyone here. She seemed to find herself alone at mealtimes, the Grimes family having either just finished eating as she came in or eating at someone else’s home. They never invited her along. She offered help around the compound whenever she wasn’t in a meeting with Rick, but no one accepted it, claiming they had everything they needed. Maggie was the only one who didn’t seem to hate her. She’d wept when she saw Maggie, alive and well, and hugged her until Maggie complained she couldn’t breathe. They cried together for Glenn, and Maggie made her feel hopeful, like she was still one of them. But she had only seen her that one day, before Maggie returned to Hilltop. And Daryl… well, Daryl was a whole different heartache. They technically shared their previous bed, but he never joined her there at night. Most nights he was still out when she went to bed, and most mornings he was gone before she rose. There was a neat stack of blankets and a pillow on the couch downstairs that told her where he’d been sleeping.

Her face must have reflected these thoughts because when Negan spoke again, he was gentle.

“You don’t fit here as easily as you did before, right?” She met his eyes but didn’t respond.

“It’s because you don’t. You never did,” he continued, “it was a nice thought back then, right? A group of people who loved each other and made each other better? They even made you better… but those people didn’t love you. They loved what you could bring to the table. They loved what they could make you into, who they could change you to be and control you.”

“And I suppose you think you’re better for me, right?” her voice was quiet, but the anger building behind them was unmissable. “Am I supposed to believe you loved me?”

“I think you know the answer to that, y/n, or you wouldn’t be here,” he replied, less gentle now. “And I think you loved me, too. It felt good, right? To be seen for who you are, not who someone wants you to be? You didn’t have to work to be anyone but yourself. I have seen the real you, and the real you flourished with me. You know why? Because we are the same, you and me. We both know that.”

“No,” she said, louder this time, “we don’t. It was a mistake coming in here.” She turned to leave.

As she reached for the door Negan aimed his final shot, “you know once he knows you loved me it will be over. How could he love the girl who fell for the guy who killed his friends and put him through hell?” He hit his mark.

She forced her chin to remain high and her shoulders to refrain from slumping as she left and held that position until she reached her room in the Grimes’ home where she stayed until nightfall.

--------

That night didn’t bring much sleep. Negan’s words haunted her. He’d said she loved him. It echoed in her head louder than anything else. She didn’t love him, right? How could she, after all he’d done? But then, there was all she’d done, too… She’d seen a softer side to Negan, a glimmer of what he might have once been, before he embraced the monster in him.

When she did manage to drift off, her dreams were full of Negan, over and over she would find herself alone with him, in a lover’s embrace, and then suddenly he was a walker, biting her, taking her down with him. She would wake sweating and shaking.

She knew he was right…they were the same. She knew his monster because she had been fighting the same one in her since the world fell apart. Once Daryl knew the truth, he would never look at her the same. There was a good chance he would hate her. She wasn’t sure she didn’t hate herself.

After the third one of these dreams woke her, realizing the night would not bring rest, she sat up in bed rubbing her eyes.

“You a’ight?” She yelped and jumped at the sound of Daryl’s voice across the room. She turned on the bedside lamp to find him sitting in the armchair close to the door.

Her heart racing, she whispered, “I didn’t know you were in here.”

“Didn’t mean to scare ya,” he half-whispered, matching her volume. “I came to check on ya when I got in, you were tossin’ and turnin’ and hollerin’ some.”

“Sorry,” she admitted, “bad dreams.”

“Yeh, I get those, too” he said as he rose and made towards the door.

“Daryl,” she said a little louder, longing in her voice. “Stay.” He paused with his hand on the knob.

“Please.”

He slowly turned and after removing his shoes climbed into bed and sat beside her. They didn’t touch, and she didn’t turn off the lights.

They sat in silence for what felt like an hour.

She finally worked up the nerve to speak. She needed to tell him, needed him to know who she’d become in Negan’s thrall, and needed to see his response. She knew it would be awful, but if she didn’t face this now, she would go insane in the tension.

“Daryl,” she started, but he cut her off.

“I don’t need to know, y/n.”

“What?”

“I don’t need to know what hapn’d in there. I know it was bad, it was bad for me, too. But I know ya did what ya did to save me, and then to survive. ‘sall I need to know about it.”

She didn’t know what to say. She grabbed his hand, expecting him to pull away, but he let her hold it. He closed his hand around hers in response and looked her in the eye.

“We all have summin’ dark in us,” he said, his eyes gleaming with memories of his own, “what makes us different from him is we fight it. ‘n we fight it together. I’ll help ya fight it if you’ll let me.”

Speechless, she reached up to cup his cheek with her free hand and stared into his eyes for a long moment. She hoped he could read in her eyes everything she wanted to say but couldn’t find the words.

When she leaned in to kiss him, he met her halfway. They shared a long, passionate kiss, until desire swept them both under its current and they found themselves naked, tangled up in one another, moving in rhythm until they were both spent. She felt new - refreshed somehow, even though she hadn’t slept.

She raised herself up on one arm to look at his face. He was gazing at her, lazily combing through her unbound hair with his fingers.

“Can we leave here?” she asked him, her face earnest.

He sat up at that.

“Leave this room?” he asked.

“Leave Alexandria. We can go to the Kingdom, or Hilltop with Maggie. We can still be part of this,” she said, waving her hand, “just not in Alexandria?”

He studied her face for a long moment before asking, “why? Wus wrong w’ Alexandria?”

“I think,” she said slowly, trying to find the right words, “our people may need to heal before they will let me in again. I don’t know if I can be the town pariah long-term.”

He waited for more. She sighed, knowing he knew her well enough to see right through that answer.

“I can’t be here while he’s here, Daryl,” she said, now pleading with her eyes. “He… Rick will never move him out of that cell. I have a lot of healing to do, a lot to work through. You and I have a lot of healing to do together. I don’t think we can do that when he’s two blocks away.”

Daryl didn’t answer immediately. After a long pause he said, not meeting her eyes, “Rick needs me here. ‘stoo much to plan. Too much to do. Can’t leave.”

Her heart shattered. She needed the chance to start fresh with him. Needed it to be somewhere far away from Negan and the impossible hold he had over her. She could tell from Daryl’s face there would be no changing his mind.

--------

Daryl awoke with a strange sense that something was… off. He tried to call to mind what could be causing the unease, but nothing came. Things with y/n had been better since their late-night talk three nights ago. He was glad for that, the tension upon their return to Alexandria had been eating him alive. He’d heard enough talk from the Saviors during his captivity to know what Negan required of his wives, and the night Dwight walked him back to his cell on a strange route would never stop ringing in his ears. Dwight stopped him outside of a room he hadn’t seen before, but quickly learned – as the savior posted outside the door relayed to Dwight that Negan was busy inside – it was Negan’s room. As they turned to leave, a familiar moan made its way to Dwight’s ears. His heart stopped and his breath caught as he recognized the pleasurable sounds of her – he’d know those noises anywhere. He’d certainly enticed them out of her enough. She had been behind that door, making them for Negan. Daryl’s fists instinctively clenched at the memory. Dwight had grinned wickedly at him as he locked him in his cell that night, not even playing that god-awful song he’d been torturing him with. He left Daryl in silence to replay what he’d heard over and over.

Daryl knew that hadn’t been the last time she’d been with Negan while she was in his Sanctuary. He’d had a lot of time to work through that and the emotions it brought with it before she got out. They all came flooding back the first time he saw her again, and the guilt she wore plain as day in her eyes didn’t help. He couldn’t stand it, couldn’t be around her without wanting to tear Negan’s throat out with his bare hands. So, he’d distanced himself. Until he saw how much she was struggling.

Everyone in Alexandria seemed to avoid her like she smelled bad. He watched as it wore her down, and even from a distance saw the demons she was battling. He’d been there before. He still had to fight demons and the person he’d been before all this. Merle had brought out the worst in him since childhood, and before his death it had been a constant battle not to slip into his old self. Daryl began to understand her struggle and found that each time he saw her slumped shoulders and haunted eyes, his heart ached for her more and more.

He’d forgiven her and was happy to move on. She’d seemed grateful enough for that the night they reconnected. Though things were better between them, she still seemed haunted. She tossed and turned beside him most nights, and when she did sleep almost always woke up shortly after, sweating or silently crying.

Daryl knew why. She’d told him. She’d all but begged him to leave with her so she could get away from Negan – be free of him for good. It stung like a blow to the face to realize Negan still affected her like that, and he’d told her no to spite her for it. He’d been regretting that since.

He turned over in bed to reach for her, wanting to hold her and smell her hair, the clean, light rose scent always calmed him – but the bed was empty. That wasn’t unusual, she often gave up trying to sleep sometime in the wee hours of the morning.

Still feeling somewhat uneasy, Daryl decided to find her. Maybe he just needed to talk to her to get his balance back.

An hour later he returned to their room, hopeful they’d just missed each other, and she was back in the house. Not finding her in their room or the attached bathroom, he moved downstairs to see if she was in any of the shared living spaces.

Daryl was returning to the kitchen from the back den when Rick bounded through the front door looking frenzied and angry. Daryl raised his eyebrows, silently questioning the sheriff.

“We got a problem,” Rick said, somewhat out of breath.

“What?” Daryl asked him audibly this time.

“Come with me,” was all Rick said before bolting back outside and down the steps of the porch. As Daryl moved to follow him, he saw something he hadn’t noticed earlier. Or rather, he didn’t see it – the bag and gun y/n hung from the mounted coat rack by the door was gone.

Daryl pushed that away to figure out later as he tried to catch up with Rick. He followed him straight to the basement that housed Negan in a cell. He braced himself for the worst as he pushed past Rick and through the door to investigate and saw – nothing.

Daryl cursed at the sight of the empty cell, the door swinging open, singing a taunting tune.

“Nothin’ was broken,” Rick said, “so someone had to let him out. Or he picked the lock somehow. But we are very careful about what goes into his cell with his food, someone would have had to help him either way.”

Daryl threw the cell door all the way open and stomped inside to look around. A yellow piece of paper folded and placed neatly on the cot caught his attention. He picked it up and carefully opened it, already certain what it would tell him.

I’m sorry. That was all it said.

“It was y/n,” Daryl said so softly Rick wasn’t sure he heard him right.  

“What? How do you know?”

Daryl handed him the note. “It’s her handwritin’.” The pen matched the note he’d found in his cell at the Sanctuary, and other little notes she’d left him around the house in their months before Negan.

At that moment, Michonne burst through the outer door. “Rick,” she managed to get out through her panting. They stared at her expectantly as she caught her breath.

“I was checking in on our supplies this morning,” she finally said once she could breathe. “There are a few guns missing, and a good bit of food. Enough for someone going on a run, but no one was scheduled to this week.”

Rick gave Daryl a knowing look.

“I ran to the front gate to see if Eugene knew anything. He told me Rosita had the night watch, but that y/n came out in the middle of the night and relieved her – told Rosita she couldn’t sleep anyway, she might as well be useful. When Eugene got to his post this morning, there was no one there. And a car is gone.”

Daryl stormed past them both and out the door, fuming. He was going to hunt them down. He’d kill Negan and be done with the evil bastard forever. And her. He didn’t know what he would do with her yet, but he knew he was done with her. This was twice she’d chosen him over Daryl – once when she snuck Daryl out and stayed behind. He watched her walk right to Negan like she belonged there. Now she’d not only let Negan out, but run off with him?

He didn’t notice Rick running up behind him until he spoke, “maybe you should let ‘em go, Daryl. She won’t let him come after us, anyway, she would never do that.”

“Naw,” Daryl huffed, “this is personal.” He reached his motorcycle and mounted it. He nearly peeled out as he left the house driveway and made for the gate of Alexandria. More of their people had gathered there, wanting to know what was going on.

He weaved past them on his bike and was about to shout at Eugene to open the gate when he noticed it was already half open, and someone was coming inside.

Daryl froze in confusion as he watched her walk inside. She’d come back. On foot? His heart was pounding in his chest, he didn’t know what to make of this.

She was sweaty and dirty, and had some walker blood on her, but he didn’t see any injuries on her as she walked past everyone’s questioning looks straight to Daryl on his bike.

“I guess y’all found my note,” she said with a smile that didn’t meet her eyes. He didn’t return her smile.

“I’m sorry, Daryl,” she said, tears filling her eyes now. “I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t stay with him here. But I couldn’t leave you, either. This was all I could think to do.”

Rick was beside them now. “You let him go?”

“Yes,” she said, not taking her eyes from Daryl’s. “I gave him food and a couple of weapons, blindfolded him, and drove as far away as possible, taking random turns and even backtracking, until the car ran out of gas. Then I told him to figure it out from there, but if I ever saw his face again, I’d shoot him on sight. I walked back. He didn’t follow me.”

Rick sighed heavily, then grasped her shoulder. “Well, then. That’s done.”

“Yes,” she said, smiling at little at Daryl now, “it is.” He nodded and couldn’t fight the returning smile creeping to the edges of his mouth.

She climbed on his bike, wrapped her arms more tightly around his waist than she needed to, and he drove them both home.

[dauntless-gothamite]

Prove Them Wrong [2/?]

Fandom: Divergent Pairing: Eric Coulter x Fem! Reader Summary: Y/N is a Dauntless transfer from Erudite, and she has a drive, an ambition that sets her apart--it always has, even back in Erudite. She brings her perseverance (and need to prove others wrong) to Dauntless when she transfers, and she uses her mind to make her way through the initiation process. Along the way, she makes friends and enemies, and she finds herself comfortable around the man most people in Dauntless avoid at all costs: Eric Coulter. A/N: it seems this may be a little bit of a slow burn, based on the pacing and where I am in chapter three right now... Enjoy!

You woke up to the sound of metal clanging together, an unpleasant alarm if you’d ever heard one. “Get up, get dressed, and be in the training room in two minutes,” Four said, banging the metal together one last time before leaving the room. 

Everyone scrambled to get dressed in their new black Dauntless clothes, and as people entered the training area, they began to form a semicircle around Four and Eric. “Ok, let’s get started,” Four said, clapping his hands together. “There are two stages of training. The first is physical, you will push your bodies to the breaking point and you will master the methods of combat. The second is mental, again breaking point. You’ll face your worst fears and conquer them--unless they get you first. You’ll be trained separately from the Dauntless-born, but you’ll be ranked together. After initiations, rankings will determine what jobs you move into: leadership, guarding the fence, or keeping the factionless from killing each other.”

“The rankings will also determine who gets cut,” Eric cut in, rising from where he sat on a concrete slab. An uneasy whisper spread throughout the initiates. No one knew about this, and you had to admit, you were getting a bit nervous yourself. “At the end of each stage of training, the lowest-ranking initiates will be leaving us,” Eric continued. 

“To do what?” asked Al.

“Well, you can’t go home to your families, so you’ll be factionless.”

Another wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd of initiates, but it was quickly silenced by Eric’s glare. “Someone should have told us,” Christina said.

“Why? Would you have chosen differently? Out of fear?” Eric replied challengingly. “I mean, if that’s the case, you might as well get out now. If you’re really one of us, it won’t matter to you that you might fail, alright? You chose us. Now, we get to choose you.” Eric looked at each initiate, his blue eyes challenging each person to look away. Some people did, others didn’t. You didn’t. 

Instead, you held his intense gaze as the itch to prove others wrong that had been inside you since the day you were born rose up, ready to be set free. What Eric said was scary, but it didn’t matter--all your years of studying the faction system told you that they would try to scare the initiates, and while you hadn’t expected this, you had known it wouldn’t be easy. But you had worked your ass off for years to be top of the class in Erudite, and you’d be damned if you weren’t going to do the same here, in your new faction. 

--

“Everyone, get some water before we move into the next segment of training,” Four called out. It took everything in you not to bend over as some others were doing; you knew standing up straight, getting fresh air in your lungs, would make the cramp in your abdomen go away faster, even if it hurt more now. 

“Tris, stand up straight,” you whispered to your friend, who was red-faced after running twenty laps around the room, which was everyone’s warm-up for the day. 

“Just so you know, tomorrow we won’t just be running laps,” Four said, surveying all the tired initiates. “So get used to this.” 

You sighed, mentally thanking yourself for joining a small workout group in Erudite. It was fairly new, and it was only created because studies showed that after some physical activity, the brain was better equipped to come back to problems it struggled with earlier and continue working whereas remaining stagnant was more likely to result in burnout and fatigue. The workouts were nothing like this, but you were still appreciative of them.

“Alright, everyone find a punching bag and start hitting. Eric and I will be walking around correcting your form, but it’s on you to put our advice into practice. Go,” Four announced after barely even a minute of the “break” had gone by. 

Turning on your heel, you walked over to the nearest punching bag and lined yourself up. Feet spread evenly about as wide as your shoulders, then step the left foot forward just a bit. Knees bent slightly, fists raised high. Then, you get to punching. 

After what felt like an hour of hearing Four quietly critiquing other students between Eric’s shouts of disappointment at other initiates, the two trainers finally got to your area of the training room. Out of the corner of your eye you caught Four walking up to Tris, slightly adjusting her position and giving helpful tips. Another set of footsteps came to a stop behind you, which meant Eric would be the one helping you. Your shoulders tensed for a moment, but you quickly forced yourself into a more relaxed position and continued punching. Just pretend he isn’t there, you told yourself. After hitting the punching bag six times, called out “Stop” from behind you. He walked over to your side and took a fighting stance. “Make sure your hips are square, like this, so when you throw a punch with the hand that is further back, you can twist your hips and use core strength to put more power into it,” he said stoically, and you did your best to mimic his stance. “No, like this,” he said, grabbing your hips and twisting them, holding you firmly in place for a second before letting go. “Try it now,” he said. You started throwing punches again, and he nodded before silently walking away. When you paused to readjust your stance, you heard Eric yell “Did I say you could stop, Y/N? No, I did not; keep going!” You took a deep breath and began the next onslaught of punches as the room fell quiet save for the sound of fists hitting punching bags, a rhythmic thumping sound. 

“First jumper!” Eric called out, disrupting the steady beat and sense of calmness in the room. “In the ring.” Beside him, Four sighed and looked down at his feet, and you had a bad feeling about whatever was about to happen. “Last jumper,” he continued, looking at a girl with dark hair--you think you may have heard her friends call her Molly, but you aren’t entirely sure. “Time to fight.”

Tris and the girl stepped up to the ring. “How long do we fight for?” the girl asked.

“Until one of you can’t continue,” Eric said in response. 

“Or one of you concedes,” Four interjected, stepping forward. 

“According to the old rules,” Eric corrected. “With the new rules, no one concedes.”

“You really want to lose someone in their first fight?”

“Well, a brave man never surrenders.” 

“Lucky for you, those weren’t the rules when we fought.”

Eric clenched his jaw, irritated, before saying “You’ll be scored on this, so fight hard.” Tris and the other girl squared up and began to circle each other, but Eric was getting impatient. “Go!” he barked. 

After nearly falling off the mat, Tris lunged, but the other girl dodged, twisted, and retaliated with a swing of her own, landing a punch to Tris’ face. As Tris retreated, the other girl pressed her advantage, catching Tris’ waist, bending her over, and punching her stomach a few times before Tris managed to break free of her hold. Just as she reached the end of the mat and turned, Tris was met with another punch to the face, sending her to the floor. The other girl--Molly--glanced at Eric since Tris was down, and he nodded, signaling Molly to send one last blow Tris’ way, knocking her out. As you watched the fight, you felt bad for your friend; she was much smaller than Molly, and part of you wanted to speak up about the cruelty that the trainers were showing, but you shoved it down. There was no need to compromise your position right now. 

“Next,” Eric yelled, pointing to a girl named Selene and a former Candor named Peter who had made fun of Tris, calling her a Stiff several times. You secretly hoped Selene would kick his ass, but it was unlikely, he was tall and strong, plus he was willing to fight dirty--he’d admitted as much in the dorm area. Guess he still couldn’t keep his mouth shut, even though he’d left Candor.

Selene was tough; what she lacked in strength she made up for in endurance, but after a few rounds of dodging Peter’s punches, he finally landed one to her solar plexus, stunning her, allowing him to sweep her legs out from underneath her and kick her as she lay on the ground. You clenched your jaw as he did so, feeling anger rise up inside of you. Selene was unable to fight, that was the stopping point of the fights, but Peter was still kicking her. And Eric, the emotionless person that he was, didn’t do anything. 

“Peter,” you said, “stop it.” Peter turned towards you and smirked.

“What are you going to do if I don’t?” he taunted. You considered for a second before turning to Eric. 

Looking up at him, you steeled yourself. “I know we don’t get to determine the fighting order, or who we fight, but I would like to fight Peter. Now,” you said, sure to keep your voice level and maintain eye contact with the leader. 

He raised an eyebrow at you curiously, and thankfully, Peter had stopped kicking Selene when you started speaking to Eric. Selene scooted to the edge of the mat, but that was as far as she could move without assistance. “You two,” Eric yelled at two initiates, “help Four get this one,” he pointed at Selene, “to the infirmary.” Then he turned back to you. “What are you waiting for, initiate? Get up there.” For a moment you were stunned, you didn’t actually think you would end up fighting Peter, and you knew that both Eric and Peter were expecting you to lose quickly. You caught Four’s eye as he carried Selene out with the help of two initiates, and you looked around to see Christina, Tris, Will, Al, Edward, Molly, and a few other initiates staring at you like you were mad. Maybe you were, but it was too late to back out now. You stood in a low, sturdy fighting stance, just like Eric had shown you. Peter did the same. For a moment, the room was dead silent as your eyes locked with his, and then both of you whipped into action. 

Peter went right for the face punch, but you quickly blocked upward and threw a low roundhouse kick at his knee, making him wobble. He recovered quickly, and he quickly used his height to his advantage, moving to grab your shoulder and slam you into the ground. You were smart though, and you let him move you slightly before turning the downwards motion into momentum that allowed you to do a somersault, twisting his arm and landing on your feet. As he was turning around to face you, you sent a snap kick right to the back of his knee, making it buckle. You moved quickly to his other side, ready to send a few punches to his face and knock him out, but he sprung forward, wrapping strong hands around your neck and squeezing. For a moment you panicked, hitting his arms, but they didn’t move. Everyone was sure that was it for you, but you had another trick up your sleeve--Peter was overly confident this would weaken you and in the process of squeezing, he had left his own body defenseless. So you kicked him in the groin. Hard. He called out and released you, and as he leaned over in an instinctual reaction to pain, you kicked his forehead with your knee, shoved him to the side, knocking him over, and kicked him again, this time in the solar plexus. You stood there, stone-faced, and when Peter didn’t make a move to fight back, you turned to Eric, who nodded, and you jumped down from the mat. 

You landed next to Will, Tris, and Christina, all of whom were staring at you in a mixture of horror and admiration. You blushed in embarrassment and looked at the ground, thinking to yourself, What the hell did I just do? You were so lost in thought that you didn’t realize the next two initiates were on the mat and fighting, and you only came back to yourself when Eric yyelled, “Hey! Are you deaf, initiate? I said go grab some ice for your neck, I don’t want to hear complaints about it tomorrow!” 

You nodded to your friends and said “I’ll be back in a minute,” shocked at how hoarse your voice was. “Just going to… yeah,” you trailed off before walking quickly towards the infirmary. 

A/N: can you tell I love writing fight scenes? also I do martial arts and have played sports my whole life, so I love when I get to use my knowledge of anatomy and physiology two write action scenes :)

Tag List: @shykoolaid

[lockewrites]

The Surface of a Secret

Halsin x F!OC || SFW || 1449 words AO3 & FF

Serilda attempts to hide an injury from her companions, but Halsin seems to have an uncanny way of finding her when she doesn’t want to be found. 

The chill of the dirt soothed the throbbing burn that filled the palms and pads of her fingers; using her magic to cool the blisters seemed like the rational thing to do, but she’d tried that before, and it somehow only served to make them worse. She was thankful her tent was kept away from the others as she no doubt looked odd with her hands shoved into the ground. The rest of the party was gathered around the fire, sharing soup that Gale had cooked; Serilda’s helping sat on the ground next to her, unable to hold the bowl long enough to enjoy it without wearing it.

Aurella’s laughter carried through the camp, and while Serilda felt like an outcast with her self-imposed isolation, letting them see her as uncontrolled was not an option. For whatever reason, she’d been thrust into the impromptu leadership role, and they needed to believe she was strong enough to carry that responsibility. Then again, was it really her responsibility? Why couldn’t one of them make the decisions? She wouldn’t trust Astarion or Aurella, but Wyll? Well, Wyll seemed to jump in heart first rather than take a moment to think; great for the folk hero he aspired to be, but a little dangerous as a leader. 

She pulled her hands out of the earth and brushed the dirt off before reaching for the burn salve she bought from the druid grove. It smelled of mint and lavender to mask the harsh scent of aloe; she scooped a dollop on her finger and began rubbing it into her hands as she resumed her line of thought.

Lae’zel wouldn’t have enough of the party’s trust to follow her, and her sole focus would be reaching her people, and the rest of them would be left to wonder whether she told the truth. Shadowheart… actually, Serilda didn’t know how Shadowheart would lead. Her reactions seemed to waver, but it seemed, more than anything, she sought self-preservation, even if at the detriment of others. Gale, though, he could be someone she’d follow. He often agreed with her choices, helping others when possible. Then again, if his past was anything to go by, he could very well land them trapped in a bottle of wine suspended somewhere in the Astral Plane.

“Serilda?” Halsin’s voice startled her. “Is everything all right?”

Her head shot upward, and she quickly hid her hands in her lap. “I’m fine,” she said, giving a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I just… had a headache.”

His eyebrows arched upward and he frowned. “Are you sure?” he asked. “If you’d like, I brought with me some teas from the Grove that may help.” His eyes fell to her lap. 

Tucking her hands further into the layers of her robe, she put more effort into her smile as she replied. “I appreciate the offer, Halsin, but I think Gale’s soup will be enough to help me sleep it off.”

He hummed and smiled knowingly. “You mean the soup you’ve yet to touch?”

She blushed and looked down at the bowl. “I… was just about to dig in.” 

“I would recommend reheating it,” he said. “The flavor waned once the steam cleared.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

He crossed his hefty arms and simply looked at her. 

With a sigh, and an attempt at relieving the growing tension, she joked, “It’s a bit of a strain on the neck having to look up at you. Did you need anything else?”

Halsin’s comprehending smile remained. “I did mention the habits of leading the Grove were slow to leave. Are you sure everything is all right?”

Again, she sighed and dropped her head. “I’m guessing no amount of ‘yes’s would convince you.” Serilda looked back up at his tender face and couldn’t find it in herself to be annoyed at his persistence.

The large elf fell into a squat in front of her, giving her neck a chance to relax. “I suppose I’m rather stubborn. Is this perhaps one of your ‘far more interesting’ secrets you mentioned some time ago?”

“Perhaps,” she replied, her eyes falling to her hands, wishing she could mimic the sharp tone Aurella often used, but Halsin’s concern made that impossible.

“If you are adamant that you wish to keep this secret,” he began, “I won’t trouble you any further.”

She looked up to find blue and gold watching her, and her shoulders slumped under the weight of his disquieted but encouraging gaze. It filled her with the urge to share everything; her and Aurella’s childhood traumas, the loneliness felt among her mentor’s colleagues, the sexual nature of the illithid dreams, even secrets that weren’t hers to divulge, like why Aurella was who she was, why it was dangerous for her sister to return to Baldur’s Gate (even if she shrugged off the concern). 

Blinking away the feeling, she shook her head and smiled. “I can see part of why you made such a great master,” she said, earning a raise of his brow. “You have a way of making people want to say or do something they would otherwise refuse.”

Halsin chuckled softly as he dropped into a more comfortable position, his knees digging into the already disturbed dirt. He reached his hands out toward her, palms up.

“May I?” He nodded his head down at her lap.

Hesitating a moment, she conceded and slipped her hands into his expectant ones. His skin was warm, rough, worn with years upon years of guiding and working in the wilderness he was so fond of; the calloused hands dwarfed hers to the point it was almost laughable. 

As he examined her hands, turning them over and gauging the severity of the burns, she couldn’t help but watch him. The way his brow furrowed and his eyelashes dipped just above his cheeks, how his mouth shifted into a thin line and deepened the shadows of his laugh lines. 

He looked up, and she prayed it was dark enough to hide the color filling her cheeks having been caught staring. Though his face appeared more concerned than confused or accusatory.

“How have you managed to gather so many scars?” he asked, his tone lighthearted on the surface.

Her gaze moved to her hands still in his; his thumbs brushed over the faint maroon patches of skin marring her fingertips and palms, careful to avoid the fresh wounds.

“I enjoyed playing with fire when I was younger,” she replied, forcing a chuckle, though it was a half-hearted attempt. 

She glanced back up at him, and the tilt of his head told her he didn’t believe her, but he didn’t push. 

“I can heal these if you’d like,” he offered, his thumb hovering over one of her blisters. 

“I wouldn’t want you to waste magic on something so small,” she said, eyes returning to her hands and where his skin touched hers. 

“It’s hardly a waste,” he replied with a light chuckle. His right hand released hers, and he tucked a curled finger under her chin, gently pushing upward so she would look at him. “I would only offer if I sought to help you.”

Warmth pooled in her cheeks, and she blinked at him, his finger still pressed against her skin, the heat radiating from his hand only serving to worsen her blush.

“Okay,” she muttered, lips barely moving.

He smiled and pulled his hand away, taking with it his warmth and leaving behind an echo of his touch. He hovered over the burns on her left hand for a moment before a bright blue light filled the space between them; a cooling sensation passed over her skin and seeped through each wound, repairing the damaged dermis from underneath. He repeated the action with her right hand, the same feeling filling her injuries and healing them.

The light faded, and he gave her hands another once over.

“How do they feel?”

She flexed them as they remained in his own loose grip. “Better than what any salve would’ve done,” she said, smiling at him. “Thank you.”

Halsin returned her smile and released her hands. “It’s no trouble. In fact, I much prefer serving as a healer than I did as Master of the Grove.” He added, “That’s not to say I want you to actively seek injury just to keep me occupied.”

A weak laugh passed through her lips, and she watched as he returned to his feet, forcing her to crane her neck upward again.

“I will leave you to rest,” he said, giving her a brief nod. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” she replied. “And thank you, again.”

He smiled. “Of course, Serilda.”

[ajoy3fanfics]

Captive Chapter 3

AO3   FF.NET

Earlier

There were several moments of pause between when the king gave the order to fetch the oldest princess and his answer. He had collapsed into his throne, high backed and rigid, wordlessly reminding him that a ruler must sit tall and look stern.

‘You mustn’t let them see you smile, Kaname.’ He has told his young son, placed upon his knee, many, many, years ago. ‘If they see you smile, they think you weak. And you know what happens to rulers whose subjects find them easy?’

The young boy shook his head, ringlets bouncing from the movement, eyes large in worry and wonder. ‘No,’ he whispered. A boy not yet 4, and he already had a ruler's furrowed brow. He would carry the weight of the crown well.

‘They will tear you down, my son. They will strip you of your power, and ruin all that you hold precious. You must always make them think you are sterner than you are, for the good of this family, and the good of our country. That is not to say you must treat your subjects badly. Be fair and wise, but never forget that magic runs through your veins. You must never let your people forget either. If you do, the consequences will be dire. Do you understand?’

As if to prove the lesson had hit home, the young boy practiced his scowl, a look he would wear until his dying day. In that moment, the king had been proud, suppressing the urge to smile at his little heir, obedient to a fault and eager to please.

He wished he had smiled more. It was easy, in the moment, to wish to raise a great soldier, a fine leader for the country. But once gone, he mourned not the prodigal heir, but the son he once was. It was a regret he went to bed with each night and rose with every day. He carried it, heavy in his heart, the weight much greater than the fate of the kingdom on his shoulders.

In moments like these, the weight felt greater. His granddaughter, the jewel of the country, the prettiest rose in the land, was soon to be plucked from the kingdom and planted in foreign soil. The old king slumped now, head supported by his hands, bone-weary. When he heard the shuffle of the guard's feet, armor heavy on the palace floor, he readied, wanting to greet her entrance with a smile.

“My dear princess-“ he started, only to look between the silver-clad men in confusion. “Where is the princess?”

“My King,” Naraku bowed low, perhaps not low enough in some’s opinion, but royal advisors were known to be rather cocky. “The princess has barricaded herself in her chambers. She has ordered the maids away, and the guards request your permission to remove her by force.”

“That will not be necessary.” The king dismissed their concern with a wave of his hand. “Send her sister. She has never failed to quell Princess Kikyo when she turns an ill mood.”

Advisor Naraku nodded to the guard, as if offering his approval to do just that. Turning on their heels, they stormed off to retrieve the second princess and do their bidding.

“She has caught wind of it then.” The king commented.

“You can’t be surprised, my grace.” Naraku smiled, rather toothy and slyly, even for a spider demon. “Lady Kikyo matches the scholars wit for wit. She may have thought of this solution before we.”

The king nodded, conceding that it was true. “If only she had been born a man, then my troubles would surely be over.” In truth, he had not planned to rule this long, and had long looked forward to passing the crown and the kingdom, indulging in the responsibilities of being a grandfather and attending to the ladies in his harem. Fate, of course, had other ideas, and thus he was left to wait for a boy of 8 to grow.

“Our princess is gifted in many ways other ways, my lord. She will serve her purpose, as is her birth right.” Naraku tried to comfort the king, standing beside the throne.

The room remained silent, the air hot and heavy, turning his thoughts dull and vision blurry. When was the last time he slept? Two days ago, three? Not since news of the army came at least. It was only when the soft voice of his granddaughter caught his ear that he paid attention.

“Grandfather,” she bit her lip in that childish way that Kikyo never did. The king wanted to shake her- royalty does not fidget, hadn't the tutors taught her so? That was a lesson for another day. “My-Kikyo is....”

“Out with it girl!” Naraku spat, making the princess shoot the advisor a cold look. “Kikyo is gone. She’s disappeared.”

“Gone?” Her granddaughter repeated, the word lost, faded. “How-“

“The maids have not seen her since yesterday. They say she sent them off, wishing to spend the night alone. She told maid Aki that she felt a chill, and did not wish to get the others sick.”

“By all the Gods...” the old king, at a loss for words, slammed his fists into the arm of his throne, torn between disappointment and anger. How could she do this? Had he not raised her well? Taught her that the price of leadership is heavy, and requires sacrifices only a ruler could bare? Yet she ran, stole away in the night, alone and unguarded.

“Send the guards, leave only the minimum here for protection. Keep it silent, do not let the country know she is missing.” He answered.

“And what of the marriage?” Naraku prompted, “What are we to tell the king? They are expecting Princess Kikyo in 3 days time.”

“We will find her before then, surely!” The king's voice was shaking. “The girl could not have gone far without help. Did you know of this, granddaughter? Did you help her plot?”

Princess Kagome shook her head eagerly. “No, of course not grandfather. Why would she run? What is happening?”

“She is to be wed to the Hojo tribe. Their army advances and she is the key to peace. Or at least, she was to be.” Naraku added bitterly.

“She will be found!” The king yelled, anger flaring in such a way that made Kagome grimace.

“Yes, and what in the meantime? How do we hold off the invasion?” The advisor demanded.

Two sets of eyes fell on Princess Kagome.

A decision- a plot- had been made.

-.-

Her shoes were not made for this.

They were a fine silk, light in color and offering little protection if any. They were suited for the marble floors of a palace, washed daily, scrubbed bright, so as not to sully even the soles of her shoes. Yet here she was, dirt kissing her delicate ankles, filthier than she had been in years and exhausted.

She had chosen to walk, the idea of being restrained not particularly appealing; if possible, she would like to defend herself against this beast, although rationally, she knew she never stood a chance.

He was a fast walker, continually having to slow his pace to match hers. A princess should not rush, should not move in a way that made others question her dignity. Even as a child, when her muscles screamed to be stretched, she had to slow her movements and conduct herself with grace. Apparently, this rogue had little knowledge of her training, and frequently threatened to toss her over his shoulder if she did not pick up her speed. causing her to bunch the silk fabric into her hands, revealing white, creamy legs and practically sprint after him to catch up.

By the time the sun had set she was bone-weary, hungry, and afraid. She had never been so far from home, let alone in the woods by herself.

“We’ll camp here for the night.” He grunted, nodding his head towards the bank of a river. “We should wash up then eat.”

“I won’t eat anything until you tell me where you’re taking me.” She protested. She had to look a mess, hair flying out at all ends, sweat and dirt covering her face. Kikyou would never have allowed this to happen. She would have demanded the respect of royalty from the start. With one glance, the captor would have fallen in love, never wanting such a delicate woman to blister her precious feet. Kagome, unfortunately, lacked the skills her sister possessed.

“Princess, I think you misunderstand what’s happening here. You’re not in control anymore. No one is taking orders from you. Eat, or don’t eat. I don’t give a damn.”

He unstrapped the armor over his shoulders, the heavy metal falling to the ground with a thud. The weight of it must have been significant, yet he wore it with such ease. His pure strength made Kagome shiver.

He assumed a lot, for a soldier. Believing that the carriage belonged to Kikyo, the famed beauty, he did not even question that she could be another member of the household. She was to be a messenger- a stand in- yet he took her for so much more. If she wasn’t so terrified, she may have been flattered he made such a leap.

“If I don’t eat, I’ll slow you down. I’ll faint. You’ll have to explain why the Higurashi Princess was so mistreated. You obviously want to keep me alive, I would assume you were told to deliver me unharmed.”

Rolling his neck, the demon gave a soft laugh before walking towards her. Kagome stuck her chin out, determined not to show him her weak points, though she knew he could probably smell the fear, see her knees shaking. Narrowed amber eyes assessed her as he stepped closer. He was a foot taller than her at least, body firm with muscle. He could bring her to her knees with no effort.

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He rolled his broad shoulders, his muscles bunching as he stretched, before brushing past her, almost nonchalant, as he made way to the bank of the river. “I don’t give a damn what happens to you.”  He looked almost disinterested in her threat. “Eat, don’t eat. Sleep, don’t sleep. If you slow me down, I’ll just throw you over my shoulder. Either way, you’re coming back with me, Princess Kikyo.” His molten eyes roved over her figure, giving her goosebumps. No one had ever dared to openly stare at her in such a manner. No one had ever wanted to, not with her sister around. Swallowing hard, she planted her feet firmly in the ground, begging the Gods for strength.

“And what is to happen to me once we reach your land?” She asked. Terror began to flood her, tales of women taken against their will, sold or forced to be part of a harem. The beast shrugged.

“How should I know?” He yawned, a move that took both parties by surprise. “My job is just to bring you back. It’s up to the king to decide what to do with you.”

Kagome considered the man before her; he was well armored, the metal precious and expensive. He was a skilled fighter but spoke roughly. What was his status? Where did he come from? Cocking her head to the side, she finally spoke.

“Who are you?” Even in her questioning, she sounded well-bred, royal. It was a question that she expected to be answered, spoken like someone who had been raised never to wait.

“I’m the man who saved your ass back there.” He smirked. “So do me a favor and don’t try to pull any tricks while I sleep tonight. I’m tired, but I rest with one eye open. Try and kill me and I’ll end you before you even get close. Try and sneak away, and I’ll hear you, find you; or worse, something out here will get to you before I do.”

~.~

Kagome did not sleep that night, and she was paying dearly for it. The last time she had gone a night without slumber it had been intentional. She had locked herself away, the candle burning bright as she cradled a book in her hands, blankets wrapped around her midsection as she devoured the text in her hand.

Back at the palace, it did not matter if she slept in the next morning, as long as she was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for her lessons. Kagome would stretch out, her silk sheets cool against her skin as she lounged, pillows high and fluffed, breakfast ready on the tray.

This was different.

Each step felt like agony, and she was positive that it was pure adrenaline, a dash of fear and her anger simmering to a boil that kept her awake. That, and her captor’s constant snide remarks to keep moving.

He was relentless in his pace; did he not realize that she had never had to walk this far in her life? If Mistress Yura could see her now, mud up to her knees, hair askew and dirty with sweat, her strict teacher would faint. Or threaten to strike her; Kagome really unsure what the woman would do. Yet it did not really matter, Mistress Yura was tucked away in safety, and Kagome was assuming the name of her sister, on her way to who knows where, off to Gods knows what fate. Kagome could feel her brow furrowing, lines etching deeply into her forehead.

“I need a break.” She commanded, stopping dead in her tracks.

“Not a chance, sweetheart.” How could an endearment sound so bitter? “I’ve got better things to do than babysit you all day. The sooner we get to the village, the sooner I’m free of you.”

“I need to rest.” She said again more sternly. “My legs ache, my feet are sore, I haven't ate-”

“We’re losing daylight, Princess.” The man called over his shoulder, her title slipping off his tongue like a threat. “Pick up the pace, or I’ll sling you over my shoulder like a bag of damn rice.”

The first words he had spoken in hours, and they were vile. How could a man treat a lady in such a manner? How could he treat a person like cattle?

“You will not touch me, sir.” She bit out. “This is inhumane!”

“This is nothing.” He snapped. “A light walk in the woods. You’ve lived such a pampered life that anything real makes you wilt.”

The heat of her fury was so real she swore she felt it licking her insides. “You know nothing- of-”

“I know that if you do not shut your mouth and start walking, I won’t be as kind as I’ve been.”

Kagome's jaw fell slack. “K-kind?! You think yourself kind?”

“Princess, I’m a demon. Half demon, but still one. I can make this journey in less than a day if I run and take to the trees. But because I know you’d be sick and likely scream so damn loud you’d strip your vocal cords, I’ve opted to walk.” He stretched out his arms wide, palms up for effect. “Kind.” He smirked.

She was at a loss for words. This beast thought he was chivalrous!

“Now, if you don’t start puttin’ one foot in front of the other, you’ll see a side of me you don’t like.”

Kagome smiled menacingly as she dramatically took a step. “You assume too much. I find this side is deplorable. I can’t imagine you could get fouler.”

Inuyasha laced his hands behind his head as he casually strolled on, now satisfied that his hostage would cooperate again. “Your lack of imagination will bite you in the ass someday.”

~.~

By the time night began to fall, Kagome was sure that her blisters had developed blisters. Her muscles ached, her legs felt weak and wobbly. The soles of her slippers had worn thin, leaving her feet exposed to every rock and stick on the road, her feet throbbing and bloody.

And the hunger; she had rarely skipped a meal at home, and even when she did, she could easily call on the chef or kitchen maid to bring her some treat. Hunger had never carved its way into her bones the way it had others, and for the first time, she felt the hollow of her stomach as it ached.

When was the last time she took a drink of water? The man was a beast in more than a name.  He never stopped, kept dredging along. Did he ever thirst? Feel hunger? Pain?

She needed to stop, needed to rest. She needed to be home again, needed so many things-

“I think I-”

The world faded black as Princess Kagome fell to the ground.

[ghostofviperwrites]

Everything Changes

Requested by @theworldiscolorful.  

Pairing:  Prince Devitt/OFC/Kenny Omega

Category:  Smut

Disclaimer:  I know this doesn’t match up with what happened with the Bullet Club leadership and that Prince was gone before Kenny Omega came along, but I took generous creative license and timeline manipulation to make the story come together.   Full disclaimer I suck at writing accents, so hope I did alright with Devitt.  

“You’re acting like this is your first threesome.”

To say that Prince Devitt and Kenny Omega had their difficulties was putting it mildly.   They were friends, but it was rare that they didn’t butt heads over something.   Whether it was something as small as where to get breakfast when they were in the same town or a bigger issue relating to the way Kenny was running the Bullet Club, the two never agreed on anything.   It made sense, both of them being Alpha male types with dominant personalities.  The rest of the Bullet Club rarely paid them any attention anymore, just rolling their eyes when another inevitable argument broke out, leaving the two to sort out their differences on their own.  

Things were changing though.  The Bullet Club was about to get their third leader, with current leader AJ Styles departing to the WWE.  Along with AJ, his two most loyal friends Ken Anderson and Luke Gallows were moving on.  Tonight was the big PPV, where AJ would be unceremoniously booted from the Bullet Club and Kenny Omega would take over as leader.  It was all for show of course, behind the scenes everyone was still good friends. Prince Devitt was in town for the occasion, joining the group for a farewell meal at the restaurant of the Tokyo Dome hotel where the majority of them were staying for the show.  It was a bittersweet night with lots of drinks flowing, stories being told and laughter filling the air, though that air of a goodbye tinged the proceedings.   Throughout the evening Kenny and Devitt had been flirting heavily with their waitress, each of them pulling out the stops in an effort to win her attention from the other.   They were both disappointed when her shift ended and another waitress replaced her in servicing their group.  

At the end of the meal after saying his goodbyes, Kenny snuck up to the hostess station to pay the bill.  He knew if it made its way to the table he would have a fight on his hands as to who would be paying, so he decided to just take care of it before anyone had a chance to argue.   After paying Kenny spotted their former waitress walking out the restaurant door and into the lobby.    With a last hurried wave to his friends Kenny hurried out into the lobby, sneaking up to the girl land sliding his arm around her shoulder.   She gave a cute yelp, a blush rising to her cheeks as the undignified sound as Kenny chuckled at her.  

“Where you running off to sweetheart?”  Kenny said moving in front of her, hand raising to tuck her hair behind her ear, tracing his hand along her cheekbone as he gave her his most charming smile.  

“My shift is over.  I’m heading home.”  She replied with a smile, getting lost in his crystal blue eyes.  

“Without saying goodbye to me?  I’m hurt.”  Kenny teased.

“Oh, poor baby,” she pouted.   “However shall I make it up to you?”  

“I’ve got a few ideas.” Kenny murmured stepping closer to her with intentions of whispering a few of those suggestions in her ear.  They were startled apart when an arm landed on each of their shoulders.

“Oi Omega, It’s not enough you take my Club from me, you gotta take me girl too?”  Prince Devitt drawled, a smirk on his handsome features.  

“I don’t recall her being your girl Devitt.”  Kenny responded shrugging Devitt’s arm off his shoulder.  

“Look I don’t want to be the cause of any trouble.”  The girl said nervously, her gaze darting between the two men.  

“Oh you’re no trouble sweetheart.  You just stay right there and let us talk.”  Devitt said giving her shoulder a light squeeze.   Noticing this Kenny glared at Devitt.

“Fergal, if you don’t mind.   She was just about to make it up to me for leaving without a goodbye.”  Kenny goaded his rival.  “So why don’t you go get a good night’s sleep so you can catch your flight.”  

“Well, Kenneth,” Devitt responded, glaring at Kenny for using his formal name.  “She didn’t tell me goodbye either.  I think me feelings are hurt too.”  He paused looking down at the waitress.  “You gonna make it up to me too darlin’?”  

The girl glanced back and forth between the two men, unsure what she was supposed to do in this situation.  Here she had two gorgeous men practically fighting for her attention.   It did wonders for her confidence, she would admit that.  

“O…okay?”  She said hesitantly, quite unsure what she had just agreed to.  

“Let’s go then.”  Kenny said, grabbing the waitresses’ hand and pulling her along behind him towards the elevator, knocking Devitt’s arm off her in the process.   Shaking his head with a grin Devitt followed behind the younger man.  He wouldn’t ever admit it, but the Bullet Club was in good hands with Omega.  

It was silent in the elevator ride to the eighth floor, the girl standing nervously between the two wrestlers, heart pounding in anticipation.   She couldn’t believe she was going up to a hotel room with Prince Devitt and Kenny Omega.    

The elevator stopped and she was ushered down the long hallway, Devitt pressing against her back as they waited for Kenny to open the door.   As soon as the door shut behind them, Devitt was on her pushing her hair to the side and kissing down her neck as his hands slunk around the front and began undoing the buttons of her uniform shirt.   Her shirt was quickly tossed aside and her bra discarded in like fashion as Devitt’s fingers tweaked her nipples, making a gasp escape.  Noting a distinct lack of a pair of hands Devitt pulled his attention from the girl for a moment, looking up to see Kenny standing near the bed, watching them, but making no move to participate.  

“C’mon Omega. “You’re acting like this is your first threesome.” Devitt teased, freezing as he saw a light blush steal across the other man’s cheeks.

“Holy hell, it is?”  He asked in disbelief.  He really couldn’t believe it.  The man was a chick magnet, always having one girl or the other hanging off his arm or coming out of his hotel room.  

“Well then, I’m going to have to show you how it’s done.”  Devitt smirked as his words sprung the blonde into action.  

“I don’t need you to show me how it’s done.”  Kenny growled moving to pull the girl’s skirt off with practiced movements before rising to meld his lips to hers.  As they kissed his hands slid into her panties, slipping between her wet folds with his thick fingers and sliding them through the slickness.  When she gasped and arched her hips into Kenny’s touch, it spurred Devitt into resuming his ministrations, biting down her neck while his long fingers twisted and pulled at her nipples.  When she moaned loudly and pushed her chest into Devitt’s hands he grinned victoriously at Kenny who broke his kiss with her and stepped away, starting to strip himself.   Not to be outdone Devitt quickly shed his own clothing moving to stand next to Kenny who had directed the girl onto her knees after she removed her panties.  

“Suck.”  They both demanded at the same time, glaring at each other after.  

“I go first, Devitt, I’m the leader of the Bullet Club now.”  Kenny growled.

“Fine.”  He conceded rolling his eyes and waving the girl forward.   Kenny grinned smugly, eyes closing in pleasure as the girl enveloped him in her warm mouth, quickly easing him in fully, sucking deeply as he filled her.   With her free hand she grabbed Devitt’s cock, stroking his length with expert motions, making him moan as she slid her hand over his tip.    When she began alternating between sucking each of their cocks he couldn’t help but exchange a smirk with Kenny.

“Looks like you’re the only threesome virgin in this room Kenny.”  Devitt taunted, his chuckle cut off when the waitress deep throated while giving a squeeze to his balls.  

Kenny responded with a middle finger directed at Devitt before removing himself from the girl’s grasp.  

“I’m ready to fuck you. On the bed.”  He commanded ignoring the glare he received from his former leader as the girl detached herself from his cock.  

Once she was on her knees, Kenny slid into her wet slit from behind, hands grabbing onto her hips to plough into her as Devitt got on his knees in front of her mouth, letting the power of Kenny’s thrusts guide her mouth up and down his cock.   When Kenny began rubbing her pussy as he fucked her, her moans sent pleasurable vibrations along his cock, pushing Devitt close to orgasm.

“Flip her around.”  He ground out.  “I need to fuck that pussy before I blow.”  Devitt was glad Kenny didn’t argue with him, pulling out of her mouth and spinning her around so her pussy was lined up with Devitt’s cock. Both close to their orgasm, the two quickly reached a rhythm of thrusting into the waitress as she frantically rubbed at her clit.  When Kenny filled her mouth, she came clenching around Devitt’s cock, which began spurting inside her, filling her with his hot seed.      

Done with the girl, they were quick to dismiss her as soon as they were all dressed.    

“Believe or not I miss you.   I know we didn’t really no each other before you left, but nobody else will busts my balls like you.”  Kenny told his friend.  

“You’ll be just fine Omega.   You’re gonna own this world.” Devitt said.  

[popcrone818]

Wicked Games Part 3

this chapter absolutely kicked my ass, had to stop it there because i just couldn't focus enough to be able to write out the capture the flag scene. the book is so vastly different from the movie and I’m still not sure which version of capture the flag i want to do. Any ideas would be greatly appreciated. 

 I walked into the training room with Eric to see the transfers were all paired up. Eric walked right up to Four. It seems this morning someone had pissed Eric off and he was taking it out on my brother.

“Are they ready for some real fighting?” Eric stopped slightly in front of Four and only turned his head back slightly. I came and stood beside Four.

“Not even close.” My brother crossed his arms and scowled at Eric.

“First jumper! In the ring. Last jumper, time to fight!” Eric's glare deepened when Tris stood up to the ring with the tall muscular Candor in tow.

“How long do we fight for?” the Candor, Molly, asks.

“Until one of you can’t continue.” Eric stated stepping closer to me and away from my brother slightly.

“Or until one of you concedes.” Four added crossing his arms and glaring at Eric before his roamed Tris’ body quickly.

“According to the old rules. New rules, no one concedes.”

“A brave man acknowledges the strength of others,” fours eyes were now on Eric and I. I had decided to keep my mouth shut while they did their thing. I knew neither liked the other so I just let them have at it.

“A brave man never surrenders.” Eric stated crossing his arms, and scowling to the point where I thought it might end up being permanently etched onto his face.

“Lucky for you, that wasn’t a rule when we fought.” Four scoffs at Eric.

“You’ll be scored on this so fight hard.” I tried not to giggle when Eric turned back around to face me, his face contorted into the deepest scowl I had ever seen on his face.

Tris was knocked out after a few punches from Molly and I inwardly cringed. I could see Tobias flinch when molly landed the final punch and Christina and Al carried her off the mat. The rest of the initiates fought for the remainder of the day once Eric left. I stayed to oversee Tobias which was my actual job for the next couple of weeks.

Every night after training Eric would knock on my door and see if I wanted to get drinks with him. Every night wasn’t the same as the first though, thank god. My head and liver would never be able to withstand that amount of alcohol. But a few drinks with Eric became normal for us. Sometimes I had even been approached by some of the initiates which I didn’t mind but Eric just stared at them like he did with the Mark guy from the first night, but I couldn’t actually decipher what the look was. On the last day of stage one Al had come up to me before his fight with Will. He seemed to be slightly nervous his cheeks were tinged pink and he kept rubbing the back of his neck.

“Hey Amaya, c-can I ask you a question.”  I shrugged thinking there was no harm in a simple question. “A-are you and Eric together?” my eyes widened and if I had have been drinking water I’m sure I would have spit it out.

“Ah no were not, we work together and hang out a bit that’s all.” I frowned slightly at this thinking about how much I just wanted more with him. My ears pricked up when I heard the door to the training room open and close. I knew Eric was supposed to be here, but it had been half a day already and he hadn’t shown so I had hoped it was him, but I didn’t take my eyes off Al. Defence mechanism I had picked up during my initiation thanks to Eric. Never take your eyes off someone.

“Oh, ah good, um can I take you out one night after training? Or once I’m a full member here?” al asked me rubbing the back of his neck and biting his lip gently. Yes I will admit that Al wasn’t horrible to look at and I would even call him cute, but he just wasn’t my type. I don’t even think he would be able to handle me. I heard my brother scoff from where he was. He had superhuman hearing I swear.

“I’m sorry Al, but I have to say no. I just don’t really want to date or anything, sorry.” I told him placing a hand on his shoulder when they sag and he nods and walks off. He was so sweet, but I just couldn’t see myself with him. I shook my head and walked over to Tobias and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, he instantly wrapped his around me before my eyes caught Eric's blue ones. My heart reached out to him but I quickly shook it off as Al and Will got into the ring to fight. Al easily wins against Will, but that would only have something to do with his size. Al was like a big giant teddy bear but that also made me twice the size of Will, and even though Will was faster and was able to hold his own for a short while, Al still ended up with the upper hand and knocked him out cold. Al looked almost heartbroken as he tried but failed to get Will to regain consciousness. I walked away at this point not wanting to deal with any guy at the moment.

  Eric’s P.O.V

Once Amaya walked away I sent Al a glare as the initiate under him started to stir and get off the ground.

“Get him out of here.” I yelled and waved my hand out towards the group. The stiff and Al helped get him off the mat so the next lot could fight. Molly and Christina were next and I felt my mind wander to thinking about what Amaya was doing and what she said to Al when he asked her out. I know that the transfers think she and I are a thing so why did he think he could just ask her out. My blood started to boil and my hands balled into fist at my side. I could feel Four give me a glance out of the corner of his eye. The smaller of the two girls, Christina, yells out while she’s on the ground.

“Stop. I’m done.” She holds up a hand to stop molly from ending the fight. I go over and stand above her holding out my hand for her.

“You need to stop?” she nods, “Okay let me give you a hand.” She takes my hand and I help her off the ground and slowly we make our way out of the training room. “Alright everyone take a break. Follow me!” I yelled towards the other initiates. They all scampered over to us as I held Christina by her waist. I know I can be quite forceful at times even when I don’t mean to, but this time I was trying to be a little bit forceful.

The roar of the chasm could be heard as we turned into the hallway that connected to it. As I pushed Christina ahead of me on the bridge hanging above the water I decided what I was going to do.

“You feeling a little better?” I asked her in a soft voice.

“Yeah a little.” She said as she rubbed her arm. I knew Amaya would have something to say about this but at the moment I didn’t care as I pushed Christina’s tiny body over the railing and held onto her hand so she didn’t actually fall to her death.

“Grab the rail, or don’t.” I shrugged and let go of her hand once the other one was in place on the railing. “You’ve got three options, hang there and I’ll forget your cowardice, fall and die, or give up, but if you give up your out.” I leant back against the rail on the other side as she continued to whimper. I didn’t take my eyes off her but I knew that the rest of the initiates really hated me at this stage, there was water dropping from every rock jutting out and even right above Christina’s head. The stiff had the audacity to say something, when I shot her a glare from where I stood. I knew I was terrifying to the transfers and it was just how I liked it. No one ever got close to me. I rolled my eyes at the stiff as I yelled time. Two of her friends came over to help her up and that was when I saw her walk up to the group.

“What the fuck is going on here?” she pointedly looks at me and suddenly I don’t feel so in control. I don’t feel so terrifying, because right now there was a fire in her eyes that could rival Satan himself, I put on my steeled façade as she got closer to her, she can’t know she has this sort of control over me.

“She needed to be taught a lesson.” I shrugged and walked away from her. I couldn’t hold this façade for too long before it would start to crack under the pressure of her gaze.

  Amaya P.O.V

“That is not how you teach someone a lesson. You’re supposed to give her a punishment for after training.” I said quietly to him as I jogged to catch up to him. I watched Tobias dismiss everyone for the day as Eric turned his body back to me.

“Do not patronize me in front of the initiates!” he yelled at me as he got closer to me. I saw something flicker in his eyes for a brief moment before anger took over. “I was handling the initiates the way I see fit for them to be able to be Dauntless. She tried to concede in a fight. I can’t just over look that Mya, she needed to be taught.” I could almost see the anger radiating off him which just caused me to become angry with him as well.

“Well how about next time either consult me or Four. I will not lose transfers because you can’t get over the fact that Four can beat you every fight you guys have. Neither one of you is better than the other. It was 3 years ago, you’re a leader now and he is just in the control room because he turned down leadership. We need all the Dauntless we can get and you know it too. The factionless have been quiet for far too long and it isn’t sitting right with me. But for now get off your high horse and go and apologise to Christina. If you had have done that to me during my initiation I would have much preferred to become factionless.” I poked his chest for good measure before stalking off in the direction I came from. Fucking men. I gripped the base of my hair before I turned around to punch the nearest wall to me. Fuck fuck fuck. He was too cocky for his own good and it was starting to annoy me. He needed to brought down a peg or two, but he was still technically my superior so I had to be careful about how and when to do it.

A loud banging was heard throughout my apartment. I groaned but got out of bed and headed towards the door.

“I swear to god there better be a good reason as to why I am being woken up at this ungodly hour of the morning!” I yelled as I swung the door open to reveal Eric standing there in his mission clothes. His black military pants with a black long sleeve and a tight black vest on over the top. I bit my lip before glaring at him, I was not awake enough to stop the blush that crept across my angry looking face. I was stood there in my doorway wearing only a short pair of purple pyjama shorts with a large black sweater. The one that I had borrowed of Eric last year and never given back.

“Capture the flag in half an hour.” He let himself into my apartment and sat on the sofa. This was the first time he had actually been inside my apartment. I rolled my eyes and closed the door before making my way back to my bedroom.

“Sure come in make yourself at home.” I grumbled towards Eric.

I looked at the clock on my bedside table. 3 am! I was going to strangle him when I woke up a bit more. He knew I didn’t want to do capture the flag this year, but apparently he didn’t give two fucks about it. I angrily pulled on my black utility pants with a long sleeve and my big warm jacket, I knew how cold it got out there. But I also knew I could move fine in this jacket. I gathered my hair up into a pony on the top of my head before deciding that contacts were the best for this type of training.

I walked back out to find Eric looking through all of my books in my bookshelf.

“Interesting collection you have here Mya. I’ll have to show you mine one day and maybe we can exchange? I’ve been trying to get my hands on a copy of this for years.” He held up my copy of Harry Potter; The Tale of the Beadle and The Bard. I was slightly taken aback at his statement. That was until it hit me that he had been an Erudite before transferring to Dauntless. Of course he would have books and love books. He ushers me out my door as we wait for Four and the initiates to join us before the train gets here.

[nellie-elizabeth]

Suits: Cairo (9x04)

This episode felt a little bit "after school special" to me. It was about respect in relationships, and all of the characters kept talking about it in this kind of simplistic and unrealistic way. That's not to say I hated everything in the episode, but it just wasn't my favorite.

Cons:

The biggest problem for me was embodied in the moment when Harvey, Louis, Samantha, and Alex all did their dramatic slow-motion walk into Faye's office. They found a way to stop her from taking away Donna's vote, which is something she wanted to do because of the conflict of interest between Donna and Harvey. So they're all marching towards her office, they go in there, and as a united front, explain to her that Donna will be keeping her vote, because they've waived the conflict, and she can't stop them. This is all very nice and everything, but during the scene I was distracted by the fact that Donna wasn't there. If Donna gets a vote, if Donna is a part of the leadership of the firm, why does she sit back and let other people save her? Why doesn't she even get a say at all? It felt very counter-intuitive to me, like it went against the message, to have Donna be absent for this pivotal scene.

Donna and Harvey's romance just feels so... performative to me. I'm trying to give it a fair shake. I'm trying to get to a place where I can think it's cute, and leave it at that. But honestly, I'm still feeling pretty underwhelmed. Donna is upset about potentially losing her vote, but instead of telling Harvey about it, she blows up at him about his strained relationship with her father. I know she was covering up for something else, but I still felt like Donna was being really unfair in this instance. After all, Harvey hadn't done anything wrong. Her dad was the one who was hesitant. Why is it only Harvey's job to fix it?

I also refuse to believe that Harvey is that stupid. He offers Donna's dad money to help with his business venture. He seems to think this is a gesture of goodwill, but obviously Donna's father is deeply offended and feels disrespected. I thought Harvey was supposed to be this master at reading people? This was a dumb move, even for him. The second he mentioned the deal, I cringed, knowing it wouldn't be going his way.

And the dialogue is just so on-the-nose. Harvey makes a mistake, then has to learn his lesson and then has to tell us his lesson like he's giving a report at school. It's all very trite. That moment at the end where Harvey tells Donna they're going to be together forever was supposed to romantic, but for me it felt just as performative as the rest of their relationship. The actors are not doing a bad job at all, and they do have some degree of chemistry, but it's all just too... scripted.

For the most part I enjoy Alex and Samantha's friendship, and how Alex and Rosalie are welcoming Samantha into their family. But again, the theme of the episode just felt too blunt. I've never been a huge fan of the flashback stuff on Suits either, especially when, like in this episode, the flashbacks tell us something we already knew. Everything about Alex's story, how he was blackmailed and made to look complicit in a murder and cover-up, was old information. We were reminded of it on the "previously on." And other than the parts about Alex lying to his wife, there is absolutely nothing new in these flashback scenes. Or at least nothing new that matters.

Pros:

I feel like that was a very negative "Cons" section. It's not like I despise this episode or anything. There were plenty of things to enjoy.

For example, I still think Faye is a really interesting villain. Obviously there are a lot of things at play here, but she's not wrong to bring up the conflict of interest. She's not wrong to ask these people to work within a code of conduct. And she's not wrong that their attitude has been awful from day one. Of course, in this case I'm not 100% on her side, because I think Donna deserves her vote along with everyone else. But Faye isn't entirely wrong to be worried. Although I think it's stupid that she stole Gretchen from Louis (because that's not how secretaries in law firms work!) I like that Faye decides to give her back, admitting defeat in this one instance. I think she's probably gearing up to continue her fight against the name partners, but for now, she must concede the battle.

As I said, I love the continued theme of Alex and Rosalie welcoming Samantha into their family. They invite her over for board games, they make her feel at home with them and their kids. On the flip side, Samantha shows her loyalty and respect for them by doing what she can to get Alex out of a sticky situation. It was so cute that Alex and Rosalie were basically fighting over who was going to take a risk for whom. Samantha stepped in and made the play herself, because she could keep a level head about it. It looks like Alex is off the hook for now!

The cheesy dialogue and somewhat clumsy themes in this episode were definitely a problem, but the one place that the cheesiness worked for me was when Harvey was talking with his mom. It was such a satisfying character moment for Harvey when he patched things up with her, and now for him to call and tell her about Donna, and introduce these two women over the phone, is just so sweet and adorable. Harvey learned to be vulnerable and loving with the women in his life, and it's one of the most nuanced and satisfying character growth plot threads I've ever seen on TV. No joke.

Katrina and Louis' friendship is tested slightly, but once again we see evidence of Louis' maturity. He asks Katrina to do something risky and shady, and tries to pressure her because of their relationship. Katrina decides ultimately not to do it, and puts Louis in his place for asking her in the first place. I feel like the old Louis would not have backed down. He would have pushed and pushed and made things so much worse. But instead, he calms down, and he apologizes. I love Katrina for standing her ground, and Louis for respecting her choice!

Not much to say in the Mike Ross corner this week. His name was mentioned a few times in the context of throwing blame around for Jessica's disbarment, but that was about it. But next week? MIKE IS BACK AND I AM LIVING FOR IT! I can't wait to check back in, after I see the episode!

7/10

[fire-of-the-sun]

Kabby Meta: The Shocklashing

Today I'm going to address one of Kane and Abby's most important developments together - the shock-lashing. Why it matters, how it positively develops them individually and together - marking a powerful and constructive turning point, not a negative, toxic one.

The first signs of this particular issue are shown in Abby's frustration with Kane's decisions as leader. She wants him to start searching the woods for the missing kids – desperate to find her own daughter, but he must also consider the now tenuous safety of the people and camp.

Seeing his own people murdered in the forest continues to cement to him that the security of the camp comes first. He's desperate to protect all of his people - both in and outside the camp. But no matter what action he chooses, lives are at risk, and this weighs heavily on him.

Abby is looking to Kane for help. He wants to save the kids too, but feels certain he cannot send out a search party right now. Unable to give her what she needs quickly enough, she decides to takes matters into her own hands once more by freeing and arming the young prisoners.

Knowing her so well, Kane immediately suspects she’s the culprit and confronts her on this, genuinely disappointed that their relationship has relapsed. She easily stands her ground against his reprimands and retorts that his current leadership and 'redemption' are a lie.

This hits its mark and Kane is stunned into silence as he watches her leave. This conversation perfectly sets up what’s to come. Abby’s mention of redemption reintroduces this theme for him - a question that has and will continue to plague him. Did he/can he redeem himself?

We know based on his conversation with Byrne after that Kane is against shock-lashing her initially, instead deferring to a lighter punishment. He avoided the sentence that was expected of him to issue - already bending the rules for her - the one Byrne reminds him he must do.

"On the Ark we had to be ruthless, uncompromising. Our hand was always forced, but down here we have a chance to start over, make something better." Kane is already of the belief that to make a better world, they have to let go of the old one. He is willing and ready to change.

Byrne acts as the embodiment of Ark law – of the man Kane was, who he’s 'supposed' to be. As he fights against her, he’s fighting that old part of himself. It's an excellent way to present this internal struggle between what's expected of him and what he believes to be right.

Unfortunately, Kane feels forced to concede after being reaffirmed of the disarray spreading throughout camp moments later resulting in someone's death. He must put aside his personal feelings once more to do what he thinks is best for everyone as the tension in camp rises.

It should be more than clear to the audience that his actions do not come from anger, sadism or a need for payback against Abby. No, he is simply driven by the overwhelming need to protect his people however he can, to keep order like he was taught and do.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this Abby, but you left me no choice." Though Abby is disappointed in him, she understands the decision and accepts her punishment, holding onto her strength and resolve more than ever as he struggles to maintain his.

Yes, watching this take place is unpleasant, no doubt about it, but no one is more troubled by the sight than Kane himself. The powerfully filmed scene comes down to a wordless struggle between them: Abby’s resilience vs. Kane's crippling guilt as the battle rages within him.

Afterwards, Kane comes to check on her, brimming with shame. He has no reason to apologize, in the eyes of the law he was completely right to do what he did, but that doesn’t matter to him anymore. He feels guilt because he cares about her/others more than he cares about the law.

"I did hear you, you know." He gently, and unaccusingly reminds her that he was listening, that he does care. He's going on a mission to try and help the kids if he can, just like she wanted. They matter to him too and it shows her that he’s on her side - and has been.

Seeing him so open and honest in this way Abby finally realizes that what he says is true. He’s someone she can trust to be attentive to and share her concerns. From this point on, she’s willing to listen to and trust him – they are now on the same page, more connected than ever.

What other progress is made here? Kane easily hands over his power as Chancellor to her. Entrusting her with the care of the thing he cares about most – his people. Just as she is entrusting him with the potential security of her child. This is another huge moment for them.

There is no doubt or hesitation in their regard towards each other after this. He is determined to go on this mission to help save his people and she’s supportive of that choice, grateful. There is no ill-will or concealed anger in the looks they share, only support and care.

The shock-lashing is never addressed again save for a brief reference in 2x09. This, among other shows of concern for each other, should clear up any doubt from the audience that there are any hard feelings between them, especially if she’s comfortable enough to make light of it.

To sum up, both Kane and Abby made mistakes and misjudgements but they didn’t let what happened grow or fester. They worked through it with maturity and came out stronger because of it. Well-written, necessary conflict like this is the pressure that turns coal into diamond.

They both immediately understand where the other is coming from: they’re just trying to help their people in the best way they know how. That's something they can connect on, not fight over. Both learned a valuable lesson and made positive steps forward because of it.

They’ve overcome their initial obstacles and are stronger for it, making them, in my opinion, one of the healthiest dynamics on The 100. They continue to see each other at their worst and accept each other for who they are with kindness – a necessary step on the path to true love.

Please note this essay is in no way meant to excuse any actions or blame it on anyone in particular. It happened. The point is to show that these characters learned and grew from it (very quickly I might add) and there were no ill feelings involved on either part. It’s a powerful lesson and one they needed to learn to grow closer. 

[kalluralove]

Both sites: BlackEvyl. (Who needs to be creative XD). And you're welcome! I look forward to read it! (And thank you, good to know I haven't wasted all those years of learning. XD But still, writing actual stories is quite different than just talking with someone ;.; I'm not sure my writing style works well with different language, at least when I try to write in that language from 0... I guess I'll just end up translating it or something. Once I publish anything, that is). Thank you again! : D

Thanks again to @blackevyl for the cool idea on this post https://kalluralove.tumblr.com/post/173329099840/i-imagine-that-at-some-point-keith-would-actually

It’s short but sweet and I hope I did your idea justice!

IN HIS DEFENSE

The late-night knock on the door startled Allura. She was just now ready to call it a night but had assumed that the tired members of the Voltron team would have long been asleep. It was their first mission since Keith had resumed flying the Black lion and once again the bickering between the paladins meant things didn’t go as smoothly as they should have. The others still resented Keith’s long absence with the Blade of Marmora, making them slow to warm to his leadership.

She opened the door to see a haggard Keith.

“Please, come in. Have a seat,” the Princess insisted, motioning to a couch in the sitting area of her bedroom.

“I’m not going to stay long, I just needed to give you something,” the young pilot replied as his body swayed slightly.

Realizing he was unsteady on his feet, Allura decided to take a different tack to get him to rest. “I’m too tired to stand another second,” she complained, “and Coran will understand you being in my room if it’s related to Voltron affairs.”

She noted that Keith blushed a little and shifted uncomfortably at the word. Allura made a mental note to ask Pidge later if it had a different meaning on Earth. The fact that he chose to sit on the far end of the sofa, well away from where she sat, indicated it likely did.

“So, what brings you here at this hour?” she asked, quirking her eyebrow to show that she was curious, not annoyed.

The Captain looked down at his hands as he contorted his fingers in and out of a fist. “I wanted you to take care of something for me.”

Now the Princess was genuinely concerned. Could he be planning to leave again? Did Lance’s constant badgering force him to give up already? In her mind she began to formulate any number of arguments against such a distasteful idea. If he planned to leave she would not let him go easily this time.

Her thoughts distracted her so much she missed him pulling his Marmoran blade from its sheath. He didn’t seem to notice that she wasn’t looking, either; the glimmer of the light bouncing off metal was what brought her back to reality.

“I want you to keep this for me,” he continued. To her ears he sounded conflicted by the offering.

As he extended the hilt towards her she saw that his hand was trembling slightly. It was understandable, seeing that it was a family heirloom and his go-to weapon.

In fact, that’s what had begun the tension with the team to start. Hunk pointed out that he was using it instead of his bayard, questioning Keith’s determination to stay with the Voltron force instead of migrating back to the Blades. None of the others seemed to notice the hurt in his eyes at the accusation. Allura stepped in to remind the others that their leader had returned because he wanted to, not because he was forced. They quieted down a bit after that, but the glares they shot at him seemed to land like bullets. It had been a while since she saw Keith flinch around them.

“Why do you want to give this to me?” She held her breath for what seemed like forever while he worked up a response he was satisfied with.

Finally his eyes were able to meet hers as he spoke. “I need you to trust me,” he sighed. “I need you to know that I’m all in.”

Allura reached over to place her hand over his, slowly pulling the knife from him. She cradled the cold blade in her other hand, marvelling over the fine craftsmanship.

That he worried so much over something that didn’t particularly bother her left a pain in her chest as tears began to well up. While she didn’t want to push Keith out of the room too quickly, she wasn’t sure how long she could hold them back.

“I…I can’t accept this,” she responded, turning her head slightly toward the shadows. She hastily dropped the knife on the table in front of them.  “You don’t owe me anything. I’ve done nothing to deserve your loyalty. And yet you’ve come back to me– I mean the team– time and time again.”

At this she stood quickly, intending to usher Keith to the door. Instead his voice stopped her suddenly.

“I’ll always come back to you,” was all he said, and that was all it took.

The dam burst and Allura began to weep. She knew he probably meant “you” in a plural sense, yet she wanted it to be directed at her exclusively. Regret for every time she had asked him “please come back to us” instead of “please come back to me” washed over her.

The Princess realized things had gotten even more awkward and expected Keith to rush out of the room. Instead he gently pulled her by the wrist back onto the sofa, this time much closer to him. His hands grasped hers, his thumbs rubbing her fingers in an attempt to calm her. Allura attempted a smile to assure him that she would be okay, although she imagined it looked more pained than comforted.

“Let me do this. Let me prove myself to you and to the others,” he continued. “I need to be sure the team works together. I need to be sure everyone comes back safely… especially you.”

Allura almost didn’t hear the last part as his voice dropped to a whisper.

Keith felt the sweat on his back shift directions as he maneuvered to avoid the sword swinging wildly at his head. Few Galra carried such weapons so the Black Paladin was caught off guard when the first hit landed on his shoulder. He was glad to be back in his armor since it provided somewhat better protection than his Marmora suit, but it did stick out amongst the dark shadows of the destroyer he had boarded. The grey-clad soldier he was fighting had the advantage here.

Suddenly the crack of a whip sounded from his left; its electrified barbs latched onto their target before bringing the convulsing body to the ground before him. Keith smiled when he saw Allura approach, although he quickly ducked his head to hide it lest the other paladins be nearby.

“Thanks, that was a tough one,” he offered quietly, fighting every urge in his body to run over and hug the Princess.

“I’m just glad I got here in time. You never used to struggle like that,” she noted, her voice filled with concern.

Keith returned the bayard to its original form and put it away. He was annoyed that after several weeks he still didn’t feel right wielding it. It felt clumsy compared to his blade, but he would simply have to learn to use it again.

“Just a bit off today, no big deal,” he replied, offering a quick thumbs-up to reiterate his statement.

Allura stepped in front of him, forcing him to look at her. He could tell she wasn’t convinced by the set of her jaw and the furrow of her brow.

“You say that every time,” she countered angrily. “You’re going to get yourself killed like this.”

“Get himself killed like what?” Pidge stepped through the doorway and looked at the two of them. “What’d he do this time?”

Soon Lance appeared behind her and propped himself against the doorframe, his arms crossed as he studied the scene. “I’m guessing he did something stupid like using his head as a battering ram.”

“Maybe he tried to blow something up without thinking,” chimed Hunk, who had been skulking in the hallway.

“Enough!” shouted Allura, startling everyone into silence.

Keith instinctively took a step backwards towards the darkened corner of the room. The Princess rarely shouted at the paladins and he desperately hoped an argument wouldn’t begin. Certainly not one that centered around him.

Allura looked back at Keith, then took a deep breath before pulling the Marmora blade from her armor. The others looked confused as to why she was holding it, but none dared question her. The Black paladin’s eyes met hers and they never wavered, even as she approached him.

She reached for his hand and pulled it towards her, palm up. “It’s time I returned this to its rightful owner,” she conceded, placing the knife in his palm.

The Captain was taken aback, unsure how to respond. He’d given this to her as a sign of his faithfulness to her as well as to the cause. Had he done something make her question his loyalty? His body began to tremble and his throat tightened so that he could barely breathe.

“Princess, whatever I did I’m sorry,” he muttered, not wanting to engage the others in their personal conversation. “I’ll make it right, I’ll-”

Allura didn’t allow him to finish. She leaned in to give him a chaste kiss on the lips before stepping back to offer him a genuine smile. It wasn’t their first kiss– far from it– which was much more passionate on the night he gave her the knife, but it sent shivers down his spine nonetheless.

“What the quiznak?!” echoed a chorus of voices from behind Allura. Keith had momentarily forgotten they were watching the entire transaction.

“Anything you’d like to share with the rest of us?” demanded Lance, slinking closer to the couple.

“As a matter of fact, there is,” Allura retorted. “Keith is the leader of Voltron. He’s also a member of the Blade. The fact that he’s here with us now stands as proof of his loyalty to the team. His actions in the past reflect his fidelity to the cause. He has earned his place as the leader of Voltron and you will respect that.”

The rest of the team stood silent, mouths agape– even Keith. It wasn’t that he had never heard those words from her, just that she’d never uttered them in front of the others. If he were being honest he’d have to say that he fell in love with her all over again at that moment. Still, he didn’t understand the reason she was giving his blade back to him.

“Keith,” she started, as if answering his unasked question. “Someday you will give this back to me, and if the fates allow to our child. But you need to survive for that to happen, so keep it as long as you are a soldier. You can’t come back to me if you can’t defend yourself.”

Allura spoke in a hushed tone so that the others couldn’t hear, but Keith understood every word.

[littledesertsparrow-blog]

Parting Waters | Drabble

        @axe-me-darius 

        He is everything in her vision and the swelling of her heart as he plucks the strings and plays her like a harp. He is the sun shining through his raven locks that whip in the wind he creates carelessly and in perfect tandem with the beating of her heart. He is the ground she walks upon and bends, the levity that keeps her connected to the world around her and the very reason she continues on. He is everything she has learned from, everything she hopes to be, everything she wishes she could be. 

        He is everything to her, and she wouldn’t have traded his company for anything in the world.

        Taliyah’s laughter is normally musical, but under his guidance and compassion it only reaches even happier notes as they spend their time together, training and learning from each other. She takes under his wing like the sparrow he so lovingly calls her. 

        He is everything to her. 

        It’s when her eyes crinkle up when she laughs at his corniness, when her head slumps back to allow the waves of chortles to pass by her lips and she has to hold her stomach because he has gone and done another party trick that always leaves her in shambles - it’s when she wipes the happy tear that has formed in the corner of her eye and she subconsciously looks past him, out to their surroundings, that she notices him. 

        It couldn’t possibly be anybody else. Him. The sight of him makes her laughter stop short, hand freezing near her cheek where it had been wiping away the tear before Taliyah shakes her head, frowning because the mood she’d been in dissipated like morning dew on grass leaves. Her sensei is still performing, too caught up in his parlor trick to notice that Taliyah has gone quiet. 

        She licks her lips in anticipation. I must speak with him. 

        “Sensei, one moment, please. I shall be right back.” She muses as she stands from where she had been sitting next to him, making her way over to the line of trees he’s no doubt hiding behind. So unlike him, and yet for some reason Taliyah is not surprised. 

        Her master gives a small noise of acknowledgment as she leaves his side, and with a quick punt of her foot she is rock surfing out to the edges of the clearing she had been sharing with him. The figure she is surfing towards, usually so tall and commanding, seems to shrink under her scrutiny as she confronts him from behind the tree he’s currently backed up against. 

        Her arms cross over her chest, but it is not in anger or disappointment - only bated expectation. “Darius,” she muses, sienna eyes scanning at the familiar face - though her face is distinctly not smiling, as per her usual. To see such a usually happy face devoid of its contentedness is such a foreign look, especially on one so upbeat as Taliyah. 

        “It has been a long time, both since I have seen you, and since you have been to Ionia. I am sure this is not merely a coincidence. What brings you to Ionia?” Her voice is neutral, lacking the warmth of her laughter from just a moment ago. She prays that Yasuo does not go looking for her and inevitably finds her out of sight talking in hushed tones with this Noxian, but she wouldn’t put it past him at this point. 

        Darius looks away, unable to meet her gaze. Not only is it odd to see him so subdued - to see him unable to meet her gaze is an equally odd sight. “I just came to see... if the rumors were true, about your life after you had left Noxus.” 

        The frown on Taliyah’s face only grows at that, and she gives an unhappy huffed exhale as she is now the one to turn her gaze away from him. “The day that Noxus finally lets go of the files and rumors of my existence and keeps my name off of its lips is the day they finally give up their outward expansion dreams.” 

        “You misunderstand me,” The Noxian frowns with a shake of his head. “I speak not of rumors spread by Swain or his faction - what I reference is not in any government papers or reports about you. This is... more personal than that. I came seeking the closure that... you have truly been happy since your departure from Noxus.” 

        Taliyah’s sigh leaves her lips at the same time as the General himself concedes a heavy sigh - the air is heavy with the tension of unspoken words. It is not even as if Taliyah left on any particularly bad terms, but it was no secret that her departure had wounded Darius deeply.

        Despite this, however, Taliyah looks back towards the clearing and smiles fondly at the thought of who is waiting there for her. “... Yes.” She finally says. “I would say I am quite happy.” 

        “Then that is all that matters.” Darius’s voice is gruff. “He definitely appears better suited for you than Noxus ever was.” 

        “I never sought out leadership.” Taliyah admits. “The teacher I truly needed was never one you could buy or attend classes from. I needed guidance, I needed compassion. Someone to learn with me as well as teach me. I could never have found that in Noxus, no matter how understanding your nation is of magic. I was... never meant to go there, Darius. I hope you understand that. My decision to leave was never with the intent of hurting you or betraying the generosity you have shown me. I just...” 

        A heavy silence. A stalemate. Both parties were unable to speak - Taliyah kept her eyes trained on the floor, arms wrapped around herself as her frown only grew more troubled. “... I am happy now. I am where I need to be.” 

        “I suppose you never did belong in Noxus, as painful as that sounds.” Darius concedes. “I could tell you were never truly happy, as hard as you tried to convince the both of us otherwise. Noxus clipped your wings and caged you - here, you are free. It is such a sad waste of potential for our nation to let you go, but... it was the least I could offer you; a peaceful parting. You need not worry about Noxus following you here. I came alone on my journey to find you once more and I do not plan on returning again, lest Noxus finally decides to expand its borders here permanently.” 

        Taliyah turns her gaze once more to the clearing where her sensei sits, now playing his flute. She can faintly hear his melodic music through the growth of bushes and trees that separate the two, and the sound makes her smile faintly. “... Please, promise me you will not hurt my sensei. He was not involved in my leaving. That was a decision I made on my own.” 

        The General frowns and shakes his head at her words. “He will remained unharmed. Believe it or not, Taliyah, I did not come to cause bloodshed. Only... to find closure.” 

        “... I suppose I should be heading back, then.” Another sigh. 

        “Yes, I suppose it would be in your best interest. I should be heading back to Noxus, myself; I wasn’t exactly supposed to come and make the expedition here.” 

        For the first time since she’s been in his presence, Taliyah allows herself a small chuckle, sienna eyes locking with his as Taliyah flashes a bittersweet smile Darius’s way. “It was... lovely to see you, Darius. For all it is worth, I wish you the best.” 

        They do not touch. They do not give another word of parting. Darius picks himself back up to his full height and turns away without another word, never looking back. Taliyah stays where she is for a few minutes, watching his silhouette gradually get smaller as Darius walks back in the direction he came from. 

        She sighs, still watching, long after Darius is gone and the sun has begun its descent in the sky. Taliyah faintly picks up the sound of rustling leaves in the background before her sensei comes to join her once more, and she smiles far more genuinely in his presence. 

        “And what would you have been doing out here all by yourself, my little sparrow?” Yasuo coos, coming forward to lessen the distance between them. He puts his arm out to rest against the tree Darius had stood on, and with the use of his special nickname for her, Taliyah giggles. 

        “Ahh,” She sighs, “One is never truly alone in this world. I was... catching up with the past, I suppose you could say.” 

        “And what did the past tell you?” 

        A moment of contemplation. A small frown tugging at her lips as Taliyah worries it between her teeth. “The past reminds me that I am always to move forward. The past reminds me not to dwell on it. It tells me many things, Master, but today it told me that I am very happy to be where I am today. I can truly say that I am happy.” 

        She looks to the horizon and bows her head, making peace with her demons and hoping that somewhere, somehow, Darius will try to move on and do the same. 

        Taliyah turns, faces Yasuo, takes his hand and walks back to the clearing, truly feeling at ease for the first time in a long time.

[sol1056]

big mechanical inconsistent cats

Sometimes, when there’s a sequel (or second season) to a story, the relationships that started in the first story get broken up in the second. If you’re lucky and the writer is good, it’s because the groundwork was laid in the first story that the relationship was only a HFA (happy for now, vs a happy-ever-after). More often, though, the conflict is contrived, and done purely for the sake of getting to repeat the ‘getting back together’ tension. 

The key is whether the reader hits that conflict-point and says, “oh, I had a feeling that was coming.” A buried tension, an issue left unaddressed, some old enmity reappearing, a fundamental difference in ethics or priorities: these foreshadow a possible break. Done right, it’s not a ‘will they or won’t they’ repetition, but a ‘can they resolve their differences and grow stronger’ new turn. Instead of a circle across old ground, it’s a spiral treading new ground. 

To paraphrase Mark Twain, this isn’t real life, this is fiction, and fiction is supposed to make sense. So my question is: does the lion switch -- from the point of view of the lions themselves -- make sense?

Blue is the training-wheels lion

One theory floating around is that Blue is a nurturer, and therefore -- once the paladin has learned whatever lesson -- Blue kicks the kid out of the nest. Not only is this kind of offensive towards Lance, implying that of all the paladins, he’s the one who requires ‘learning’ some lesson more than any other, it’s also not held up by canon. After all, the original pilot for Blue flew ‘hundreds of missions’ with her, and was never thrown out. Are we to assume he remained the most incompetent or needy member of the team, such that he continually required Blue’s nurturing?

Blue was personally offended

Of all the paladins sitting Black’s seat, Lance was the only one shown to really want the responsibility. (I’m going to ignore the way Pidge demanded the seat, which made no sense for her character, had no foreshadowing -- compared to Hunk’s request to form the head with Yellow -- and was done entirely for humor that felt completely out-of-place.) Except Lance’s declaration was that he wouldn’t follow Keith anywhere; it was Hunk (and Pidge) who insisted they had a right to try. Lance merely took the opportunity when it was offered. 

So if Yellow and Green were not offended by Hunk’s and Pidge’s request, why would Blue be so offended by Lance’s? Blue’s been characterized (mostly by fanon attempting to fill in the blanks, admittedly, since the writers have been less-than-forthcoming about so many details) as the friendliest and most easy-going of the bunch. Frankly, the ‘you talked to that other lion so I want nothing to do with you’ seems like a reaction we’d expect more from Red, than Blue.

The problem is that we’ve already had a groveling scene from Lance. It was a poignant scene, certainly, and dramatic, but he tried everything, and Blue still refused. If the character reasoning for Blue is that coveting another position is tantamount to betrayal, how does one come back from that? If just wanting Black is enough to anger Blue, what’s the result if one actually accepts Red? 

The rejection just seemed both too severe and out-of-proportion when compared to Hunk’s and Pidge’s continued seats in their original lions.

Blue and Red had an agreement

This... doesn’t make a lot of sense, in terms of what we’ve been told/shown about the lions’ personalities. Keith got put through the ringer in order to convince Red, but Red opens up so Lance can stroll right in? It’s like the two lions had a sudden personality switch, themselves. Blue is abruptly temperamental and recalcitrant, while Red is the one calling in excitement for Lance?

More to the point, if there were an agreement between the lions, what’s a lion’s reasoning for not simply communicating this? From their very first meeting, Blue’s talked to Lance. Sure, it would’ve been a different scene -- one without the heavy-duty tones of personal rejection that jacked the langst up to eleven -- but it could’ve achieved the same end if Blue had simply spoken to Lance, gently opened the door, and pushed him out to make the point clear. It could still hurt, and he could still wish to be with her instead, but more importantly, the scene wouldn’t have felt so damn arbitrary.

Instead, we got one lion flatly rejecting her paladin for no apparent reason other than, well, being temperamental, while the lion canonically the most unpredictable and sensitive turned friendly and welcoming. Without some explanation or hint in-story of the two lions arranging this, the only story-supported conclusion is that the two lions became plot-devices for the sake of angst. 

Legs can’t lead

This one is a quadruple-whammy. 

First, if Lance was rejected because he’d inadvertently said the right things to indicate he’d make a good second-in-command -- and therefore had to take Red’s seat -- that means he and Blue were only ever support. It means that whatever traits his character brings to the table, those were traits he’d have to stifle to remain in Blue. That runs counter to the concept of the pilot’s quintessence being mirrored in the lion, if any growth makes Lance suddenly out-of-sync.   

Second, this breaks the entire concept of ‘five becoming one’ because it’s clearly ranking the lions. There’s Black, who leads, Red, who leads in Black’s absence/silence, and everyone else just follows. Someone stepping up to lead from Green, Yellow, or Blue is not possible, because in Black’s absence, only Red can play that role. That’s not equality. That’s definitely a hierarchy. 

Third, the whole emphasis on Red as a ‘hand’ or ‘arm’ of Voltron ignores that Pidge/Green is also a hand/arm. Shouldn’t that rank her equally with Red, in terms of immediate support for Black? The story even echoes that, between Pidge’s “You won’t have to!” response when Shiro says he can’t fight alone in S2E13, and Lance’s “You don’t have to!” when Keith admits he can’t handle things alone, in S3E2.

Fourth (and most infuriating to me), this means Allura becoming a paladin isn’t a promotion. It’s a complete and total demotion. Not only is she no longer the commander general to Shiro’s field-marshal, the first whammy -- that a leg cannot lead -- means she can’t even re-take that position as long as she’s flying Blue. 

I know a big part of the fandom is all excited that Allura’s finally a paladin, but this is also the reason I’d prefer she be out of that seat, pronto. The implications otherwise are just too frustrating, and that’s not even getting into the points @smolsarcasticraspberry made about the optics of downgrading a powerful WoC into a purely supporting role.

After all, take that fourth whammy to its logical conclusion: if the argument is that to have a leadership position (first or second) requires Black or Red, then putting Allura in Blue automatically denies her any right or chance to lead. And if she can take second-in-command at any point while sitting in Blue, then that negates the very reason Lance was thrown out in the first place. 

Maybe the lions aren’t what we were told

There’s one characteristic -- going from the lions’ behaviors in-story -- that seems to be parallel between Blue and Red. They’re both pretty head-strong, and they’re both proud. 

When Lance first sits in Blue, she takes him on a wild ride. As far as Lance is concerned, “it’s like it’s on auto-pilot”. Blue is calling the shots, and as long as her pilot will listen to her, and do as she says, everything is fine. Despite his rivalry with Keith, Lance is actually pretty easy-going. Allura -- not one to roll with the breaks -- is forced to begging before Blue starts talking. Blue may’ve opened up, but she didn’t entirely cooperate -- or even help much -- until Allura was willing to concede. 

Meanwhile Red required an extreme act to notice and accept Keith. What if this wasn’t necessarily a literal thing -- you have to eject yourself into space to get noticed -- but a metaphorical thing? Keith could yell and demand, and get nowhere. He had to take an action that put himself entirely on the line. In a way, Lance breaking down and groveling did the same thing, by shredding (and shedding) his own pride, in his self-image. Perhaps Red’s ‘temperamental’ personality lies in preferring a pilot willing to reduce himself (or herself) to nothing? ‘Admit you know/are nothing, before I will accept you,’ perhaps. 

(One flaw in this theory is that we don’t actually know what triggered Red the first time. Alfor admits he’s not entirely certain what he’s built, or how the machines work, or what they’ll do, but that’s more humility, rather than putting himself on the line to impress Red. Maybe it’s a combination of not putting himself above the machine -- and being one who lives ‘in the now’, always willing to jump in -- that appeals to Red?)

Anyway, if we can presume that Red’s pride lies in making sure the pilot will self-abnegate towards the lion, where does Blue’s pride lie? 

Maybe Allura’s explanation of the lions wasn’t based on the lions themselves -- which it seems (based on her explanation in S3E1) she’d never directly spoken to, after all -- but on her recollections of the original pilots. If her impression of Blue's original pilot was that of a friendly, easy-going flirt, then she may’ve been unaware of what can lie beneath such an exterior: someone who is quite sensitive to others. 

In which case, perhaps Blue is just as sensitive as Lance when it comes to belonging. What if what she values isn’t, in fact, someone easy-going and affable, but someone who’d understand her need to feel valued and in charge, her sense of competitiveness, and her fear of being lesser-than? 

The only scene we get of Blue’s original pilot, he’s rebuked by Zarkon for flirting with the staff. He ends up looking somewhere between ‘oh, busted’ and ‘oh shit I messed up again’. 

Which is possibly why Allura twigged on Lance for Blue, if she saw that kind of reaction from Blaytz on a regular basis. 

While it’s true that Lance is ebullient enough (or immature enough) that this doesn’t exactly stop him from doing it again later, he doesn’t laugh off the scolding, either. He seems to feel his place is a little too tenuous, as if worried this will be the one time it’s too much, and he’s out for good. 

At the same time, Lance is also quite jealous, in the word’s original sense of possessiveness. Even a hint of anyone eying what’s his -- as when Keith mentions the blue lion to Coran -- prompts Lance into a rather out-of-proportion response. He has a similar reaction to Allura being with Keith, which is probably both that possessiveness, and a sibling-like competitiveness. 

If that characterization can be extended to the lion he’s most simpatico with, then maybe she felt Lance agreed with her that Black was preferable, and that was her grounds for rejection. In her eyes, he’d rejected her first.

This is still only inference and speculation, though, and it also breaks down because of Lance’s own reactions. He doesn’t retaliate by rejecting her in return, nor does he hold a grudge. He shows every sign of missing her, and trying to guide Allura on Blue’s behalf. So if Blue is that incredibly intransigent, it’s a distinct break from how Lance has been characterized so far. Add on top that this interpretation means Blue holds grudges -- unlike Lance, who fusses loudly (as when Shiro chose Keith in BoM) but then lets it go -- and it’s hard to see how this break can be undone. 

And that brings me back around to the original question. If this was not a situation that felt inevitable -- an ‘oh, I had a feeling this would happen’ -- then it’s equally not a situation that feels resolvable. If you can’t identify what went wrong, then you can’t identify how it could be fixed. 

So until we have a better sense of why Blue chose -- or was written to choose -- to reject Lance, I’m left with the uneasy sense that characterization got tossed in favor of an angst-yanking plot-device. What little canonical information we do have just isn’t falling into place, to explain how everything ended up where it is now. 

[philosopher-agni]

The Dreary Circle

Previous Story: Homecoming Note: Contains spoilers for early Stormblood events. 

Agni sat on a stool by her friend’s tent ant watched the southern sky. She was feeling particularly antsy. Even if she wasn’t going to be on the front line in this operation, she had gotten out her red coat and red gem. She wasn’t a real Crimson Duelist of course. She’d never met a survivor of their order and wasn’t recognized as one, but she looked the damn part. It helped that Griever Cell wore red. 

Charvi, Agni’s only real friend at the Reach, slid out of her tent with that unnerving grace Ananta had. “Isssss thisssss how all of Greiver dresssssed?”

“Ceremonially, mostly,” she conceded. “But it looks like Reachers still don’t trust me out on important operations. Like I’m going to summon Shinryu again or something.” She smiled, but it wasn’t in good humor. It was forced. 

Chavri tipped her head, as if trying to figure out of that’s actually what the humans believed. Some probably did. Agni’s cell before Rhalgr’s Reach might’ve actually been successful in summoning a Primal had the Garleans not caught them in the act and slaughtered them all. She didn’t have the Astral node the summoners were using, but Shinryu proved it wasn’t needed. Not with enough passionate souls on the field. 

“Perhapssssss,” Charvi wasn’t exactly comforting. “But even sssssso, you’ve been quite usssssseful. I perssssssonally think Greiver employed better tacticsssss asssss it pertained to ssssssubterfuge.”

All the air was let out of the duelist and she hung her head. “Yeah. I guess. I just wish I was out there, doing something, yo-”

And then people started screaming. 

People screaming elicits a different reaction among militias than the general public. Agni was almost trampled by others joining her in running toward the sound. She pulled her weapon and the red gem at her hip flung itself onto the blade’s handle, readied for battle. And battle came fast. 

From the direction of the Peaks came a series of explosions. They were in quick succession and announced the Imperial’s arrival long before the bards’ horns sounded an emergency. There weren’t orders being issued over linkpearl, meaning either the frequencies were jammed or the leadership was already engaging the enemy. Given where they came it, it seemed both options were equally likely. Leadership met in the tents across the river. 

Agni decided her best way to cross the pond between Charvi’s tent and the fighting was to throw out a chain of energy and literally drag herself at breakneck speed across the water, which cast a spray up behind her. But she arrived, sword first, and took down an Imperial soldier with her rapier buried in his back. She pulled the weapon free and spun, sending an arc of lightning across the Reach to strike at a Magitek Reaper. 

Last time she had come head-to-head with invading Garleans, they had slaughtered a team of expert thaumaturges. Her lightning had barely been enough to hold them back. She was stronger now, though. She had learned and trained and overcome since then. And her lightning still wasn’t enough. 

A barrier came up behind her just in time to stop a bullet from piercing her chest, but it was already flickering as the conjurer strained to focus on keeping so many shields up at once. Time wasn’t on her side, and more troops poured into the Reach by the second. 

And that was when something entirely unexpected happened. Aether around Agni burst into sudden, intense fire. She dropped to the ground and rolled away, burning her coat but near none of her flesh as she escaped the flame. They’d brought conscripts. Worse, though, they’d brought Skulls. 

She really didn’t have time to say “I told you so” to all the people in the Reach who were unwilling to attack their fellow Mhigans. She’d made that mistake once, and had to be set right - the minute you refuse to attack your kin, the enemy puts your kin as human shields in every operation. Skulls were worse - they were human swords. Or, in this case, flamethrowers. 

What she did have time to do was shoot a bolt of unaspected energy at the Skull’s feet. It exploded around him, knocking him on his ass. She used her rapier as a cane to help her to her feet, and swung it in a wide arc in front of her. A wave of wind rushed out from the action, throwing more of the enemy off their feet. 

“Agni! Watch yourssssself!” cried her Ananta friend. And then a hail of bullets raced across the ember-soaked air. 

The barrier cast around her hardened to stop most of the impacts, but a pair broke through that screen and struck her in the left arm. She wailed in agony. Her right arm drove the tip of her rapier into the ground and giant, glowing swords rose into the air around her, flying in all directions as a counterattack. 

She didn’t really register what happened next until she hit the ground again. She felt her face burning. Then the events connected into a reasonable order in her brain - a Legionnaire had hot her across the face with his short blade. The cut was what felt like hell, and that combined with the shock she’d already endured from the gunshot knocked her back. 

An arrow sailed through her field of vision as she laid on the ground, striking the Garlean soldier in the heart. Charvi. Had to be. 

She struggled to rise a second time, this time unarmed and it was even harder to stand. She heard someone shout “Fire!” and Resistance cannons rang out, striking down advancing Reapers, but the waves of people just weren’t stopping. 

Her vision was blurry. Blood ran down her cheek and arm. She smelled death, blood and burning flesh on the air. Some of those smells he’d caused. She couldn’t reach her rapier, but she could see it. Garleans advanced on her position, and she waited as long as she could before pushing everything she could into the gem on it’s handle.

Lighting filled a sphere around it, and undirected Verthunder zapping the troops before another six blades of light went in all directions and took the twitching Garleans to the ground. And then, Agni fell face-first into the dirt. 

From there out, things were just a muddle of events and senses. Gunpowder. Cannon fire. Something about the Warrior of Light arriving. She had one clear vision of the person she presumed the leader of the attack - Fordola rem Lupis, the traitorous head of the Skulls. And blackness. And cold. And the din of battle.

And so history repeated itself, she thought. And so another group committed to liberation was slaughtered. At least, mercifully, she’d die with her people this time. At least she wouldn’t survive another massacre. She wouldn’t carry that weight again. There was a grim comfort in that.  Her year had come full-circle, in the darkest and most hopeless possible of ways.

Except Kvasir wasn’t here to save her this time. 

She remembered Charvi’s face. She remembered hearing people cry in pain. She remembered darkness. 

There were more muddled words. Flashes of something. A bed. A tent. A few people in medical attire. A blinding light. The afterlife? The Mothercrystal? The Lifestream? She didn’t know, but she felt drawn to it. And it felt painful to her. She screamed as the light blinded her. And, for the second time in a year, magic pulled Garlean bullets from her skin. That was never going to not hurt like hell, she figured. Still, she couldn’t quite make sense of what was happening. 

“It’ll be a few weeks before she’ll be able to leave the infirmary,” said a man’s voice. “I’m going to keep her under until the magics have finished their work. Weaving muscle together isn’t something you should be woken for.” Agni couldn’t see him. She couldn’t open her eyes. “But the bullet missed anything major and the sword missed her eye. I’d say she’ll be fine, but I got her records from the Flames. She’s taken beatings like this before. I’m not sure how much longer her body will be able to bounce back.”

“Sssssshould you move her to Casssssstrum Orienssssss?” asked Charvi.

There was a pause while the man made some affirmative or negative head motion, she figured. And then a serpentine hand touched her burning cheek. 

“Be sssssssssafe, my dearesssst friend. Get well.”

And then, sleep retook her before she could even feel the hand pull away from her face. The night came, and lingered, and she was lost in it. There was so much she wanted to know. There were nightmares about the Massacre of Griever and about the Battle of Rhalgr’s Reach  There were dreams about Charvi and Kvasir. There were memories of the women she met in Eorzea - Eiai, Asuka, the team she raided a Castrum with. There were dreams that made her comforted. There were dreams that made her scream inside. 

There was so much sleep. 

[narniasummerexchange]

For @hauntedthief

  Title: Swanwhite

Synopsis: The rise and fall of Queen Swanwhite, both rose and thorn.

Word count: 3667

Year 628, Narnia

  “All hail Swanwhite, Empress of The Lone Islands, Queen of Narnia. Long may she reign!”

  Some say that if her image were reflected in a pool of water, it would stay for a year and day. Others proclaim she didn’t walk - she flew. Bloomed with a quiet ethereal glow no other queen had ever had.

Those less favourable toward the monarch said she held a heart of ice, ruthless in its judgement. That her hands were deadly, with a chokehold on her growing country.

All seemed to forget that she was but a woman with a debilitating responsibility on her shoulders.

Her acquisition of Narnia was amidst the disastrous power vacuum following the death of the 19th ruler, her brother. He bore no children, his wife passed due to illness. Swanwhite prevailed out of the rest of his siblings as queen, rising like a phoenix, brutal and burning in her possession of the land. Her beauty was unparalleled, much the same as her talent with it. Within a year of her 21st she was seated upon the throne, pale eyes set with fierce determination and wild dreams.

  “Adonais, please send word to General Winterstrom to set up the appropriate defenses in the West. I fear the Great West is capable of anything. I’ve only just gained the crown - I’d like to keep it a while. Oh, and check with Cottonfoot that the Old Rites dance is still taking place at The Dancing Lawn.”

The cherry blossom dryad nodded and bowed, drifting for the window. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

The messenger whirled out the window in a blur of pink petals, leaving a strong floral fragrance in her wake. Sunlight streamed in the room, warming the dark wood of the desk to burning. Swanwhite heaved a sigh behind it, rubbing at her temples a moment before pushing away from the many documents screaming for her attention. She had watched her brother toil over documents and treaties for hours upon hours and honestly, she thought he was just being a slow reader. The beautiful queen had never anticipated that the paperwork was so tedious. But such was the life of a ruler. She wore the crown, so she too would wear the many responsibilities that came with it. Bar one.

  Despite her long ice blue dress, she artfully avoided the other lords seeking her precious time in favour of hiding out in the blossoming gardens of Cair Paravel. The blonde preferred the exotic garden the most with its’ odd varieties, often from Archenland and Calormen and devoid of dryads and other messengers. A few moments of quiet bliss.

She idly twirled the pen knife she had accidentally taken from her office through her fingers.  The swirling gilded silver reflected the sunlight and she couldn’t help but think about all the things she had left to do that day. Followed by the fact there were never enough hours in the day to fulfill all those tasks waiting for her, all classed as top priority. So much for quiet.

Swanwhite basked in the surroundings. In every blade of grass under her sandals and brush of spring breeze against her cheeks, running its fingers through her hair. Narnia. Her country. Even from her height she could hear the giggles and splashes of the young merfolk that liked to play by the shore. She had to talk with their king about border protection of the Lone Islands eventually. Avoid the topic of his eldest son being unwed and the implications it carried for her.

  With that thought she shuddered, spinning on her heel to face the music of the court. A maid or two sweeping the stone hallways curtsied deeply in her presence, peeking up through their bewildered lashes at her effortless glide over the rough floor, her reflection glowing and holding in the armour lining the walkways. Said reflection mingled with the others, surveying the servants work in the castle with critical blue eyes and upturned button nose. A rotund Duke Bryers leaped out from nowhere, blinding the woman with his velvety red and gold attire. The apples of his cheeks were painted wine red, his dark sight keen as he wobbled on his feet.

  He seemed to ignore the way she stepped back in shock, his bow legged limbs bare and in her face. Duke Bryers was too busy huffing his curly brown waves out of his flushed face while attempting to right his stack of parchment after his strenuous act. The maids down the hall turned away from the conversation to hide their simpering giggles.

“Your Majesty! Just my luck! I’ve been looking for you all day. May I have but a moment of your time? I wish to speak with you about the Archenland royal court.”

She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from glaring at him. Best to kiss her afternoon and all opportunity for signing and sending the Terebinthia Treaty goodbye. Swanwhite graced the stout man with a tight but pleasant smile.

“Of course, Your Grace. Come, let us speak in private.”

  Swanwhite shook her long blonde strands over her shoulders, twisting her fingers in her lap tightly. If they were knotted anymore they would have surely been dislocated. Duke Bryers clapped his papers loudly against the table again to shuffle them straight.

“There is also the King’s nephew, Lune IV to consider. Young, strong, politically smart. Narnia would benefit greatly from his presence.” The short red man babbled.

She coughed delicately. “Yes, well we’ll have to see if he decides to send forth his interest, won’t we? Should we decide to send word first it would make us look nothing but desperate. We have just begun a new reign - we have pre-written policies ready to roll into place. If they hear anything else it may not send a good image.” Swanwhite sent the duke a look, a quirk of her pale brows. She was not red despite her delicate skin’s time in the sun. “One we all constructed together. Should it be impacted, Narnia may not look favourably upon the court.”

  Her words implied many things. If the people perceived anything wrong with the court, there may be a coup, which many in turn send the country into turmoil that it may not recover from. It was etiquette that the suitor send forth his interests in courtship first anyway. Desperation was not a pretty trait in a wife, let alone a queen. But most of all, she didn’t want to outrightly say again that she was not interested in marriage at the current time. The queen had no cares for how it looked. The fact her 23rd birthday was breathing down her neck and she was blatantly unwed, no consort at her side to “anchor” her. Swanwhite had no need for anchoring - the overbearing weight of responsibility was enough to keep her grounded and head level.

  The duke hung his head briefly, conceding defeat to the young royal’s crisp words. “O-of course, Your Majesty. I was only thinking ahead. For the benefit of our people. Pro-active than reactive is a very good policy to have.”

She smiled at him, trying to keep the ice from seeping into the curve of her lips. “Very good of you, my Lord. Thank you for considering it and constructing such a succinct plan for our country’s future. If we have nothing else to discuss though, I really must be getting to my next appointment. The seamstress gets very curt if she’s held up.”

“Oh, yes. Yes absolutely. Farewell, Your Majesty.”

Duke Bryers stood after her, bowing low in response to her kind nod of acknowledgement, holding his position until she left the room. The young queen seemed to suck all the light from the drawing room when she exits, the duke’s gold robes dulled in the mysterious shade.

  Most private conversations with the lords follow in the same vein. All men attempting to gently - or less so - press marriage. Swanwhite spent most nights drained of all pleasantries, her snarl seeping into the following day. The servants hastened to hide when she swept through the halls. Not even Adonais, her messenger come lady-in-waiting can soothe the part-star.

She understood their motives and meaningful intentions. But the bitter queen was hurt by their apparent lack of faith in her solo leadership. It would have helped if she were married to Lune IV or his cousin and third in line, Aramis - their military and economic assistance would have been greatly appreciated. A union between she and Rabbash of Calormen would’ve been a dream for both countries. The trade benefits enormous.

But the court forgot how she gained her position. She fought for it, worked for every inch. Batted her lashes when possible and sliced with her blade when inevitable. Her words and her mere presence were her diplomatic keys. The only reason she hadn’t convinced these men was because they kept seeing their daughters in her eyes - a jewel to be protected rather than a relic to be revered.

  The second anniversary of her coronation was nearing rapidly. The seamstress was getting irritated with her indecision on her dress design. Two things were for sure - she refused to look anything less than perfect nor would she look like a commodity to be bargained for.

“I really wish you chose something other than blue, Your Majesty.” The beaver tutted. “As flattering as it is, maybe something else this time. A crisp white, perhaps? Some gold?”

Swanwhite huffed in her shift, craning her neck to peer behind her. “Did the lords put you up to this, Helena?”

“No! I put myself up to this.You can’t cling to image of your mother forever.”

So she may be trying to emulate herself a little off of her unknown mother. It made for a memorable reign and a way to command presence. Swanwhite’s mother gave the queen her part-star heritage. The reason for her constant white-blue glow and ability to glide on air rather than walk. Her pale beauty and capability to better sense magic.

So Helena didn’t want blue? Swanwhite tilted her chin up. Fine then - so be it.

  The seamstress was frankly a little bowled over when soon after Swanwhite demanded that her dress be a vivid indigo. Just as shocking was when Swanwhite considered venturing out of her comfort zone by going against the preferred fashion of the time.

But a few months later, Swanwhite is fitted with a long form-fitting dress a long train following onward. Flowers and branches are embroidered with iridescent thread along the hem and over the train in a natural, trellis pattern. The pattern continues throughout, framing the angular cutouts at her waist. The beaver can’t keep the uneasiness out of her posture as she checked the dipping neckline, or when she adjusted the horribly sheer fabric of the skirt that bared the queen’s asterisk shaped birthmark by her knee.

“Your Majesty, are you sure about this? As lovely as this is, it’s not very…conservative. This is a ball with everyone present. Not an opportunity to try out some fashion trend.”

Swanwhite grinned, a predatory look in her eye as she smoothed her hands over her long skirt. “Oh, I know.”

  The day of the anniversary rushed into her. After a journey to The Stone Table at dawn and a bright festival in the town, she got ready for the ball. Long blonde hair weaved in elaborate braids, silver crown nestled carefully on top. Bangles and bracelets jingled up her arms. If Rabbash knew what she was wearing, he would be horrified - hopefully.

She had greeted all the guests that had filed into the gates that morning, sliding off of horse or out of carriages. Rabbash and the Archenland court included. All a very polite affair, of course.

  The ballroom was decorated elaborately, with blue and gold ribbon twisting around pillars and sweeping over the ceiling. They shimmered gently with the sunlight, hopefully glowing with sunset. The room had been cleared of anything unwanted, such as excess tables as well as her throne. The dais empty, a podium shoved behind a baby blue curtain of silk. The face of Aslan tiled onto the floor had been scrubbed and buffed clean so he could roar beautifully at their feet.

When she arrived, the ball was in full swing, as intended, the group of musicians playing vigorous folk music that encouraged her favourite dances. Swanwhite was announced to the room and she watched with pride the wave of people who bowed in her presence. There was no need for a speech - the one at the festival was enough. This was but a celebration, not a time a of thought. The Telmar, Calormene and Archenland guests took turns greeting her, trying their best not to look like they were pushing.

  Rabbash got to her first, flanked by two guards and another two advisors. As expected, rather than stumbling over themselves to flatter her with compliments, they stuttered to a stop, shocked. Again though, they bowed deeply out of courtesy, keeping their eyes to floor to stem the unspoken conversation ready to spill out.

He blinked at her attire, something unknown in his eyes. “Purple, Your Majesty. I-interesting choice.”

She beamed prettily. “Isn’t just? I thought something new was in order for my anniversary.”

He made a noncommittal noise as he pressed his lips to her knuckles and swiftly moved on. His advisors cast her shocked and scornful looks that slid off her ego smoothly. She knew this particular shade was bad luck in Calormene. It was the colour of black magic; of Tash’s robes and Zardeenah’s eyes in the darkest nights.

Lune IV and his family didn’t linger for long with her, no matter how much the lords and the king try. She must have said something wrong. Swanwhite danced for hours on end, the most joy she’d had in days. The fauns kept up with her exceptionally well, unlike Duke Bryers who bowed out after one song. In a very un-ladylike action, she scooped part of her dress hem up to better maneuver, shooting the crowd a view of her calf. Swanwhite caught a flash of dead black in the crowd but thought nothing of it - someone didn’t quite understand what a celebration entailed. It was nearing on midnight when the musicians suddenly changed the tempo of their set, against her wishes. Swanwhite thought she explicitly said as few slow songs as possible before one, so as to keep the mood high.

  She was part the way over to the band when she was called at. Rabbash, outrageously pointed beard and all grinned and ushered her over to the dais. The dancing stopped as the ball guests started to focus their attention on them. The end of his sash kept slapping her hip as he walked, the heady scent of musk perfume surrounding him. Rabbash snapped his fingers in the lull of the ballroom, a servant scuttling over the smooth marble and depositing something into his grasp. His hands were veiny and spindly and Swanwhite was secretly thankful she hadn’t had an opportunity to dance with him yet. Being within arms length of them…she buried a shudder while waiting for his words. The tan man stepped up the few ledges of the dais to stand before her. Her mouth fell open of its own accord as she examined what he held in his hands. A ring? Binding ribbon?

  He reached out for her hand, squeezing uncomfortably. The lords beamed smugly with their wives and children. The music finally fell silent. His dark beady eyes glittered and she tried not to fixate her sight on that one crooked tooth in his leering smile.

“My Lady - my Queen Swanwhite. Tash’s mistress. A figure of beauty and power. I would be honoured if you would consent to be my wife - my queen and mother to the heirs of our noble kingdom Calormene. Our countries would benefit so for our union - think of it! Our bloodline would be the strongest known. Our children blessed with your beauty and my intellect. So? Your Majesty?” He squeezed her hand tighter, panic blooming in his black sight.

  She cleared her throat, tearing her hand away from Rabbash’s grasp. Her pale eyes blazed, insulted. She appeared gaunt and burning on the dais and he stepped down a step in shock. A shiver rippled down his back as he avoids her sight. Just as quickly as her hopes and spirits had lifted, they were sent crashing to the ballroom floor. How dare he put her on the spot like this, on her coronation anniversary? Her day of celebration alone. Expect her to say yes to save face and upkeep his pride.

“Rabbash, I reject your proposal. I am no one’s mistress. Nor am I anyone’s potential wife.” She says clear and quiet. “I renounce your gods. Tash, Zardeenah, Azaroth. All gods, bar the ones worthy of my praise. Neptune, guard of our waters. Bacchus, keeper of our rituals. Aslan, protector of all.”

  Rabbash reared up like a horse, throwing his marriage gifts to the floor. The ring twinkled and tinkled as it ran across the floor between the guests’ feet. His wiry, pointy beard trembled with rage. Swanwhite jutted her chin up at him, glaring down her nose at him.

“I shall announce it now, one last time. I will not marry now. I don’t believe I ever will. Not for trade, not for unity or military advantage. Not for love or companionship. The next man who dares bring forth a ring will face more than this.”

She implied the embarrassment she has thrust upon the little prince. The Calormen were very arrogant and prideful people. She knew that this would not be forgotten - there would be consequences, which she would face in due time. Swanwhite danced down the dais, past the outraged prince and back into the crowd, stepping over the ribbon and kicking aside the ring.

  After the celebration, Swanwhite’s reign hurtles downhill. The Archenland court turn away from Narnia; distance themselves. The rash and ruthless actions of Queen Swanwhite are too much to handle. The king is thankful she turned down the three proposals given by his family by letter - his sons and nephew safe from her heavy hand. She was pretty as a sword. Gorgeous and gleaming until it cut you.

The kingdom of Calormene say she is callous and stupid, turning down their prince in such a humiliating fashion and in public. The brash people call her blasphemous towards their gods, cut off unnecessary ties. Trade falls to a standstill between the two countries. The king withdraws his diplomats and the structural links between the nations whittles to nothing.

Telmar was never on good terms with the pale queen in the first place. Now her proclamation gave them the perfect reason to outright run.

The merpeople stop their singing, staying away from the shallows. The king withdraws his interest in assisting in protecting The Lone Islands.

The Lone Islands suffer, their queen and her attention land-locked to their motherland as she tries to regain her foothold on the world. The merchants become slave-drivers and the beauty of their ruler becomes a curse.

  Ravenblack is her sister, the full-blood one of their deceased brother. Just as pale in complexion, but with rich, sable strands tumbling in thick rings down her back. She is sick of the turmoil her stubborn ruler portrays, endangering the future of their country. Besides, the lords much prefer her simpering ways. Enough to take charge but not enough to always dig her heels in.

It takes months to plan the coup. Under the cover of night, behind closed doors, in unsavoury corners of the town. Aslan and his wise, good words are forgotten in these small moments in which she plans her sister’s downfall.

And isn’t it a terrible one. The scribes stop writing her name. The stonemasons stall in their making of her inaugural statue to be placed with all the others in the catacombs of Cair Paravel. The lords pledge their allegiance to Ravenblack, as do the mermaids under a full moon. Whatever has Swanwhite’s name on it is either removed to some place easily forgotten or destroyed. Right under her nose. Too busy trying to grapple with the other nations to worry about what is happening right under her nose.

  Soon, she is cast off her throne in a loud, messy affair. Screaming and curses fly from the pale queen’s pink lips as Swanwhite watches her sister take everything she’s worked for. The former queen is squirreled away to the mountains that bridge Archenland and Narnia, a hop skip and jump away from the sea. Adonais follows loyally after her, despite Ravenblack’s words of encouragement to stay and serve as her own personal messenger.

Cottonfoot for all his grouchiness, is a loyal subject to Her Majesty Queen Swanwhite. Loyalty is valuable in this business. He is one of the first people the younger ebony haired princess tries to sway. And he’s not stupid. Intelligence ran in the Frank bloodline. So the hare knew that whatever it was that the redhead was doing would be devious and traitorous - the highest form of treason, no doubt. With his exceptional hearing, the brown hare soon finds out her plan and makes his own to counteract it.

  He is a guardian of the Old Rites. The story of the beginning. So he will write his own. Of Swanwhite, the queen who would not bow to a man even at the unknown cost of her country. Who possessed beauty far beyond anyone ever known - an image to be remembered long after it had gone. Pass it down through his family. Ink staining his paws for many years to come. His queen shall have the last laugh, he would make sure of it.

  “Long live the queen.” Cottonfoot mutters under the light of a burning candle.

[janeykath318]

Closure 4

Day four post coma, Jamie woke up early from a bone-chilling nightmare that left her gasping and crying out for Chris. She’d seen Khan killing him in slow motion while she was trapped in the Warp core, burning and unable to move.

“No! Stop!! Chris!!” She screamed, struggling wildly to help him. She had to get to him. Had to stop that phaser from hurting the love of her life…..

A pair of hands settled on her burning cheeks.

“Easy, Jamie, Easy, its only a dream. Come back, Jamie. You’re all right. You’re safe.”

She jolted awake, gasping and saw Bones standing over her in his white scrubs with a worried look in his eyes.

Her own eyes were streaming with tears as she relived her husband’s death again.

“Bones!” She what whimpered. “I saw Chris die and I couldn’t stop it! Burning up! It’s so awful!”

She gave up and sobbed with fear and grief, her heartbreak pouring out uncontrollably as Bones attempted to comfort her with muttered words and holding her hand, while wiping away her tears.

When the storm finally passed, she blinked up through her swollen eyelids and saw he looked almost as anguished as she did.

“It was terrible, Bones. I watched him die all over again.” She whispered plaintively, wiping her eyes.

The doctor sighed and held up a straw so she could sip water, which she quickly accepted, having screamed herself hoarse.

“No wonder you cried so hard. I don’t even know what to say, Jamie. I’m so sorry.”

“I know, Bones,” she sniffled, seeing the genuine pain on his face. “It’s so comforting to have you here instead of some random doc I don’t know. I can only imagine the amount of people who’ve lost love ones and spouses in the attack.”

“Yes, well. They ain’t my best friend.” Bones said ruefully. “Now, try to rest easy for a bit before your momma comes. Why don’t you tell me about that "other conversation” you and Chris had? I never got the low-down on that.“

Jamie pushed away the dark remnants of the nightmare and her pain to contemplate the first happy memory of them as a couple. As Bones went about preparing her litany of treatments, she opened up and told the tale.

******** It was nearly two weeks before she heard from Pike about the talk they needed to have and she wondered if he’d changed his mind about her when she got a message asking her to meet him at a small park just outside Academy grounds.

So on the lovely Saturday afternoon, Jamie had garbed herself in her favorite turquoise skinny jeans, gray T-shirt and denim jacket (after changing three times) and made the walk to the scenic area he’d specified.

He was waiting for her by a bench at the edge of the walking trail that led away into the woods. Her heartbeat sped up as she saw him in civvies for the first time in months.

"Wow. So you do have more than just uniforms in your wardrobe,” she’d said cheekily as she joined him, trying to hide how he’d thrown her off balance from the start with the way he rocked the leather and denim.

“It’s hard to believe it, I know,” he said dryly, motioning her to sit on the bench beside him.

Jamie found herself suddenly shy in front of her long time secret crush. She hadn’t even told Bones about the meeting for fear he’d get all suspicious or say something dumb to Pike.

“Cat got your tongue?” He spoke up at last, trying to sound casual.

“More like it’s been stepped on by the elephant in the room,” she admitted, flashing a nervous smile and plucking up her courage. “Let’s just say, those less-than-professional feelings as you put it, go both ways. I was far from horrified at your admittance, the complete opposite, in fact. You ever wonder why I suddenly quit my serial dating and carefree ways?”

“I thought it was good sense finally kicking in,” he said with that goofy half grin. “You’re telling me I was wrong?”

“I’m a Kirk, what do you think?” She shot back, looking him full in the eyes at last.

“Touché.” He conceded the point with a smirk and Jamie was getting antsy when he made his move, turning sideways and taking both of her hands in his.

“I’m not sure it’s showing good sense to get involved with me, but for once I find myself tempted to throw caution out the window. That day you flounced into my office declaring your utter contempt for all mankind, I knew I was a goner.”

Jamie flushed and smiled. She’d been furious after the thing with Gary had ended badly and proved him to be a fame whore. Chris had let her rant and rave until she was out of energy then told her he agreed Gary was a complete idiot and offered her a consoling hug, which she’d accepted gratefully.

“You’ve always been good for me and good to me,” she sighed. “I kept quiet about my interest for the same reasons you did, but you must know I do find you VERY attractive, Captain.”

Just saying it made her blush furiously, which aggravated her. She’d never had problems telling people what she thought of them, before.

“C'mon now, Jamie, let me see those beautiful baby blues,” he urged, tilting her chin up so she had to look at him again. The grey eyes that were generally sharp and piercing were looking at her with a gentle expression that sent a thrill of delight through her.

“You’re incredibly beautiful, you know that? Everything about you is: your genius level brain, your rule-skirting tendencies, your reckless enthusiasm, your infectious smile. Even when you make me want to tear out my hair, I also wanted to kiss that smirk right off your face.”

“Go ahead, Christopher,” She whispered huskily, boldly using his whole name, “I dare you.” And he did. ********

“Don’t worry, Bones, I won’t go into detail, just that it was fabulous.”

Jamie concluded her tale with a dreamy sigh which turned into a yawn. Her friend shook his head in wonder.

“So that’s how you wooed the hard-nosed Captain, huh?”

“Yep,” she said thoughtfully. “Turns out he wasn’t so impervious to my charms after all.” She looked at her friend earnestly. “I hope you get a chance to have great love, too, Bones. I know I drove him crazy, but I never doubted he loved me and I hope I never gave him reason to doubt I loved him, either.”

“Some of us maybe aren’t meant to have that kind of great love, though,” Bones said with a pained expression. “I’d rather be following your sorry self around and keeping you alive than getting myself into emotional entanglements again.”

Jamie was touched at his statement, but hoped Bones would be surprised one day. It was clear at least part of Chris’s observations were correct in regards to Leonard McCoy being very loyal to her.

She dozed off again for awhile and awoke to see her mother watching her.

“Hi, honey,” Winona said softly, lines of sorrow and worry around her face.

“Hi, Mom,” Jamie greeted. “Glad you could make it. I know everything’s chaos right now.”

“Yes, but I’ll let them deal with it,” Winona waved her hand towards the window where the rescue and clean up efforts could be seen ongoing in the damaged city. “I’m here for you, baby. I would have been here a lot faster if we hadn’t been out on the edge of Alpha Quadrant.”

“Did you get briefed on what happened?” Jamie asked, hoping she wouldn’t have to repeat it all again.

“Yes,” Winona’s gaze fell to her daughter’s left hand and the ring. “Oh, honey, It killed me when I heard about Chris. Did you see it happen?”

“No, I was distracted trying to clear the room and return fire. When I got back, he’d taken a shot to the chest and was gone.”

Gone. It was such a final word, but she hated saying “dead” far more.

Winona squeezed her hand in silent sympathy. She certainly knew what it felt like and Jamie was thankful she’d have her to lean on as she adjusted to life without her beloved Admiral.

“Since we both missed the funeral, do you want to watch it with me? All I have to do is message Spock and he’ll send the video to my PADD.”

“Do you think you’re ready to see it, Jamie?” Winona asked. “I don’t want you to have a physical setback from the surge of emotions.”

“It can’t be as bad as my dreams,” she shrugged. “I’d like to hear what people had to say about him. I’ll be okay.”

So in a matter of minutes, Spock had sent the tape and they were watching a hugely attended funeral filled with top brass and dignitaries from many species. Once the formal speeches praising his astounding career and character were finished, several people shared personal anecdotes and memories that had Jamie sniffling and smiling because these people actually knew her husband and really understood what he was all about.

“Good ole Number One,” Winona murmured as Pike’s former first officer talked about him staring down hostile Romulans while battling Rigellian flu.

“He always was a stubborn mule,” she said. “Kind of like someone else I know.” She winked at Jamie, who didn’t try to deny it.

“If I’d been there I would have told them how he pulled my phaser from the holster and shot two Romulans who’d crept up behind me–while he had that slug in him and was paralyzed,” Jamie mused. “It was incredible how FIERCE Chris was when he got riled up.”

She fell silent as the camera focused on the casket, stomach clenching at the cold hard reality in the shiny brown wood box.

Admiral Barnett concluded the service with another heartfelt tribute to his colleague and friend.

“I’ve never met an officer more suited to Command than Chris Pike. He embodied all the qualities of an ideal Captain: leadership, courage, and selflessness as well as diplomacy and compassion. He knew how to push to get the best out of his crew without them even realizing it. But he was more than just a great Captain and later, Admiral, he was a great friend.”

He proceeded to talk about Chris and his friendship that dated back to the Yorktown years and Winona smiled and nodded at several points as she remembered many of the events Barnett referred to. Jamie was thinking about family parties at the ranch in Mojave when her attention was grabbed by the next statement.

“There were only three things that could cause Chris to get riled up: One, mess with his crew. Bad Idea. Two, mess with his family. Even worse. Three, cast aspersions on his marriage, which was grounds for being disowned completely.”

Jamie knew all about that. Chris had frozen out quite a few media and ignorant “fans” who talked smack about their relationship and it was glorious. She’d mildly protested that he didn’t need to do it, she didn’t care what they said, but she knew it would be hypocritical to stop him. After all, she’d put an ensign on long term gamma shift for insulting him in her hearing and another had spent the night in the brig after using the term “sugar daddy.”

“In summary,” Richard continued, “the world lost a very high quality man and we will honor his memory by returning Starfleet to the organization he believed in and prioritizing the loved ones in our lives. Rest In Peace, Admiral.”

He saluted and shortly afterwards the service ended. Jamie realized with a shock she didn’t even know where her husband had been buried and made a mental note to find out immediately.

[allofbeercom]

Who is Leanne Wood? A profile of the Plaid Cymru leader – BBC News

Image copyright Getty Images

When Plaid Cymru started looking for a new leader in 2011, Leanne Wood faced rival candidates grounded in the party’s Welsh-speaking heartlands.

But it became apparent that Plaid members wanted change.

They found it offered by a left winger from a non-Welsh speaking background in the former industrial valleys of south Wales.

She won a decisive victory and took the Labour stronghold of Rhondda, her home patch, at last year’s assembly election.

But success with the wider electorate in the rest of Wales has not come so readily.

Born in 1971 to parents Jeff and Avril, she and her sister Joanna were raised in the village of Penygraig.

Image copyright PA

Image caption With parents Jeff and Avril in the former mining village of Penygraig where she lives on the street where her grandparents lived

She still lives there with her partner, Ian, and daughter, Cerys.

Their private life is just that – private.

Though she has spoken frequently about how her working-class upbringing shaped her politics, she keeps her family away from the media.

Understanding why she has stayed so close to home is crucial to understanding her politics, says Plaid AM Adam Price, a long-time friend and ally.

“She sees the role of a politician that you represent the people in whose community you live and you have a real sense of what matters to them because you live among them,” he says.

Witnessing the decline of those communities and the miners’ strikes of the 1980s was a political awakening.

Image caption Described as very clever by school friends, Leanne Wood became interested in political issues around the time of the miners’ strike in 1984-85

She has recalled how her father was laid off from the builders’ yard where he worked, and talked about the experience of joining a separate queue for free school dinners.

“I understand what struggling means,” she wrote on her website.

While at Tonypandy Community College – or “Pandy Comp” – she had no intention of going into politics, dreaming instead of becoming a TV newsreader. Moira Stuart was a role model.

She left school at 16 and got a job in a factory making artificial flowers.

Low pay and poor conditions convinced her to go back and study for A levels.

For many politicised young people from that background, there was a well-trodden path into the Labour Party.

But some thought getting rid of Margaret Thatcher was not enough.

They decided fundamental changes were needed to the way power operates in the UK.

Who is Leanne Wood?

Date of birth: 13 December 1971 (aged 45)

Job: Probation officer, university lecturer, Plaid Cymru leader since 2011

Education: Left Tonypandy Comprehensive at 16 – remembered as “clever” and “great fun” – to work in a factory. Returned to education and graduated from the University of South Wales

Family: Partner Ian and 12-year-old daughter Cerys Amelia

Hobbies: Allotments, where she grows her own vegetables. Beer enthusiast and member of the Campaign for Real Ale. Musical tastes include Catatonia (as seen in “van share” with Victoria Derbyshire), Massive Attack, Bob Marley and Bach. Favourite single… anti-monarchist anthem God Save The Queen by the Sex Pistols

A colleague who has worked closely with her says Leanne Wood saw poverty arrive in the valleys and concluded that “it would never be a priority for a Westminster government and the answers were to be found here in Wales – that we would have to plough our own furrow, shape our own future”.

Image copyright Leanne Wood

Image caption Wood and Jill Evans were arrested in 2007 for blocking a road into Faslane Naval Base, home to Britain’s Trident nuclear missile system

“We were abandoned, effectively, by the Labour Party, and seeking a new political home,” says Adam Price.

When they found that home, they discovered Plaid could claim its own tradition of radical left-wingers.

Among them was the economist DJ Davies, a founding father of the party who wrote about the economics of Welsh independence. Leanne Wood cites him as an influence.

Image copyright Alamy

Image caption A borough councillor at 25, Leanne Wood became political researcher for Plaid MEP Jill Evans in 2000, a year before launching her campaign as Westminster candidate for Rhondda

Image caption The campaigner – Leanne Wood at the Cardiff Bay Republican Day in 2011 and at the city’s LGBT Mardi Gras (r)

After studying at what is now the University of South Wales in nearby Pontypridd, she became a probation officer.

She was a local councillor, worked for the Plaid MEP Jill Evans, and lectured in social policy at Cardiff University, before being elected to the Welsh Assembly in 2003.

The year before, in 2002, her boyfriend, David Ceri Evans, took his own life.

Years later, she spoke to ITV’s Good Morning Britain about coping with the tragedy, saying it was “something that is informative to politics because I think my experience having worked as a probation officer as well has meant that I’ve seen some real difficult experiences that people have had to live through”.

Anyone who had never met her before she became an AM could be in no doubt about Ms Wood’s politics when she arrived in Cardiff Bay.

A republican, she was once kicked out of the chamber for calling the Queen “Mrs Windsor”.

Image caption Leanne Wood “inclined her head” instead of curtseying when she met the Queen in Cardiff last year

She was arrested in 2007 at an anti-nuclear protest at the Faslane naval base.

And in the same year she was among four Plaid AMs opposed to a coalition with the Conservatives.

Eventually, the then Plaid leader, Ieuan Wyn Jones, took the party into a coalition with Labour.

In her own words

Setting things straight in a leaders’ TV debate when UKIP’s Paul Nuttall kept getting her name wrong: “I’m not Natalie, I’m Leanne”

Telling BBC Wales that Brexit was not the only thing on voters’ minds before May’s local elections: “Most people talk about dog poo”

Her verdict on the Queen’s speech in December 2004: “We are more at risk now than we have ever, ever been before and the measures outlined in Mrs Windsor’s speech will not address this risk”

Meal times at Tonypandy Comprehensive School: “We were stigmatised for having free school meals. We used to have to stand in a separate queue from the paying children”

At Plaid Cymru’s conference in Newport this year: “If you live here and you want to be Welsh then as far as we are concerned, you are Welsh and your rights will be defended by the Party of Wales”

There was no ministerial job for Leanne Wood, leaving her free to roam across subjects.

She delivered a lecture to Plaid activists in 2010 asking whether the party needed a new direction.

The following year she published a pamphlet about an environmentally conscious economic strategy to revive the former coalfields.

It combined two of her passions: co-operative politics and allotments.

When election defeat ushered Mr Jones out of office, Ms Wood started talking about how young Plaid members were encouraging her to stand – a hint that she would offer a break from the cautious, centrist Mr Jones.

Image copyright Rhys Llwyd

At the start of the leadership contest, she was an outside bet.

But enough Plaid members liked what they heard and read, choosing her as their first woman leader and the first leader not fluent in Welsh.

She took up the reins with a call to work towards “real independence”.

She has a much higher profile than all previous Plaid leaders, thanks to her inclusion in the leaders’ TV debates for the 2015 general election.

Lining up alongside David Cameron and Ed Miliband was, says an aide, a “huge deal”.

Her team poured their efforts into preparing for the debates, trying to make sure that she left an impression in voters’ minds that Leanne Wood was the voice of Wales.

Image copyright Keith Morris

Image caption Scottish First Minister Nicola Sturgeon has praised Leanne Wood’s performance as leader

Supporters say viewers liked her authenticity, pointing to good approval ratings as proof.

What they cannot do is point to seats won in parliament – Plaid still had only three MPs.

And although hopes were high in Plaid before last year’s assembly election, the leader’s victory in the Rhondda was its only advance. Plaid won 12 seats, the Tories 11 and Labour 29.

What others say

“I was proud of Leanne, I know you were proud of Leanne and I promise you I will always work with Leanne Wood in the best interests of our two countries,” Scottish First Minister Nicola Sturgeon said at Plaid Cymru’s conference in 2015.

Vice chair of British CND and friend John Cox: “She’s a campaigner who happens to have become a leader of Plaid Cymru. But it’s not like some people I’ve known who throughout their political lives have been climbing from one step to the next. She’s not that sort of person. She’s not a successful politician; she’s a successful campaigner.”

Former Pontypridd probation service colleague Rob Thomas described her as “a doughty fighter, who will not take no for an answer very easily”.

Soon after the election, Conservative and UKIP AMs lent her their support, causing a dramatic tie between Ms Wood and Labour’s Carwyn Jones in a vote to nominate the first minister.

It forced Labour to make concessions to Plaid, although there is no formal coalition between the two parties.

In reality, there was never any real prospect of Ms Wood becoming first minister last summer. She has ruled out ever working with the Conservatives, let alone UKIP.

Meanwhile, there’s a debate within Plaid about the party’s attitude towards Labour – something Ms Wood herself conceded when she said on the eve of a party conference last year that it was something Plaid was “actively considering all the time”.

Image caption Leanne Wood won praise for her dance skills during a Strictly Cymru Dancing 2016 fundraiser, pictured with actor Richard Elfyn (l) and Plaid Cymru councillor and actor Danny Grehan

The current arrangement – in opposition, but sometimes working with Labour – probably puts Ms Wood in the centre ground of opinion in the party.

She campaigned with Mr Jones for a Remain vote in the EU referendum and helped draw up a Welsh Government plan for Brexit.

But her “project” is to eventually replace Labour.

The Scottish nationalists provide the blueprint – first become the biggest party, then build the case for independence.

Both goals are some way off and Plaid members are annoyed by unfavourable comparisons to the Scottish nationalists’ success.

Defections mean Ms Wood no longer leads the largest opposition group in Cardiff Bay.

But positive results in local council elections have boosted Plaid’s hopes of inflicting wounds on Labour in the snap general election on 8 June.

Image copyright Plaid Cymru

Image caption Looking down on the village of Penygraig in the Rhondda Valley

Before the local elections, she said her five years at the helm had seen its “ups and downs”.

While campaigning, she has let rip with her anti-Tory convictions, asking voters to “defend Wales” from a Theresa May government.

And she pondered in public about whether she should stand as a Westminster candidate in the Rhondda, a move that would have required her to quit as party leader under current rules.

Eventually, she decided against.

Senior figures in Plaid privately told the BBC they were dismayed by her openly flirting with the idea.

Nevertheless, the Rhondda is one of two or three seats Plaid hopes to snatch from Labour on 8 June. If it does so, this election will be remembered as one of the bigger “ups” in Ms Wood’s political career.

Related Topics

Plaid Cymru

Leanne Wood

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/07/08/who-is-leanne-wood-a-profile-of-the-plaid-cymru-leader-bbc-news/