#pre iron flame

[b3anieperson]

Hey everyone, this is Chapter 3 of The Letter, you can find chapters 1 and 2 here.

Warnings under the cut

Quick warning for this chapter, there are mature themes, (Yes I'm well aware that this is Fourth Wing of all things-), that may be triggering to some.

TW: Suicidal Ideation, Grieving

I don't sleep that night. I don't attend my classes, nor do I attend dinner. Hell, I wouldn't eat if it wasn't for Emek or Helena, or any of my foster siblings. Even though I did eat, I ate small, only a few bites until Emek was content that I'd eaten enough.

Lady Burnam doesn't check in, but I'm sure she knows, because I have yet to be reprimanded for skipping my studies.

All that goes through my head is Liam. I've read through my letter book six times in the last hour, skimming through the letters I've received from Liam years ago- some of the last times I had ever spoken to my brother.

Emek has been telling me what to expect- its all mainly information of what he's gotten from Xaden and Garrick- or some other rider. I'm slumped over my letter book, my hand tracing the frailed edges of the paper.

-so Xaden hit his head on the tree in the courtyard, he's okay, but Garrick and I won't stop making fun of him.

Duke Lindell is making us all go to the Reunification Festival. We have to put on these stuffy shirts, like the ones Mom used to put us in when we'd go to dinner, do you remember those? Yeah, they're a lot like those.

I wish you could come to this one, but I don't think Lady Burnam would be willing to send us all together again. I miss you, and I'll try to ask Duke Lindell if I can get a wagon to go and see you by your birthday, gods, fifteen already, you've grown up.

Did you finally cut your hair? I know Eya was pestering you about it- you know you don't have to, I know how much you love your long hair.

I don't have much more of a letter to write, but I'll expect one back soon Sloane, I love you.

-Liam

My heart drops as it reaches the end, like it's done with every letter, like it's the last time he said goodbye. But I didn't get that. I wont ever get that.

I flip several pages and find another letter, it's from Liam. I don't know when my mind decided that it would be much more useful to pocket where my brothers letters were in the book, but it did, and I couldn't be happier.

Dear Sloane,

How are you holding up? Are you still having the nightmares you had in the cart? If you are, Garrick said Eya (I'm pretty sure that's the oldest with you, right?) Anyways, he said she knew a thing or two about getting rest, what remedies to take and whatnot.

Is your town celebrating that Navarre won the war too? There's fireworks every night here in Trivainne, and though Xaden won't admit it, I know he's not sleeping well.

Just remember that you are strong, and you're gonna be okay. I promise. I'm still here, even if Mom and Dad aren't, I'm still your big brother, and you can always talk to me.

I love you so much, Sloane. Please don't forget that and do something stupid. I love you.

-Liam

'-dont forget that and do something stupid.' I scoff. Garrick and Imogen had told me the exact same thing. I want to do the stupidest thing. I want to see Liam again.

My heart pains again, and I close the book and curl up on my side, pulling the blanket over my shoulder. It all hurts. Everything. I don't think I'll ever not hurt. To think that the aches of losing Mom and Dad just started to go away.

My eyes feel heavy, and even though I know I'll only have a nightmare, at least it's bound to be about Liam. Gods, Liam. He won't be there when I cross the Parapet. He won't be there to cheer me on as I land in the flight field at Threshing.

Fuck it. I swing my legs out to the side of the bed and shove my feet into my slippers. I make the thirty feet to the door feel like it's a hundred. I push, and it gives way.

Drinn sits in the hallway, and his eyes meet mine, "Hey Sloane, are you alright?" I nod. He doesn't push, and he brings his knees to his chest as I walk past.

I make my way down the steps and across the giant commons room, and to the glass door that leads outside. The courtyard isn't nearly as large as Aretia's was, but Trinitham House has the same structure as Riorson House. East Elsum was much more different from Tyrrendor, a whole new terrain.

Walking a ways down the road, I sit down on the swing Eya and Emek set up 3 years ago for Bryn and Kahla.

We used to have a swing like this, my dad would sit me on his knee and read me a book while my mom and Liam would grab apples from the tree to use for target practice.

I stand and look at the rope that hangs from the tree that we used to dive into the pond, we just replaced it last year, it's sturdy.

I twirl the rope in my fingers while I think.

This is the only way I can see any of them again.

Mom, Dad, Liam, Fen Riorson, Mrs. Cardulo, any of them, I will give anything to see them again.

I twirl the rope once, and make a simple but sturdy slip knot. Mom taught me how to stitch, that's one thing I'll thank her for when I see her.

I step back, and breathe. My hands are shaking heavily, but I don't care, I need to see them again. My family.

Please, Malek, take me, take me like you took them.

How did this even happen? He was so fucking strong. Xaden said Deigh was strong. How does Liam Jamison Mairi die, and his dragon, a fucking dragon, die?

More importantly, how does breakable, tiny, daughter-of-a-murderous-psychopath Sorrengail, live? Or live so she could see my brother die, then get conveniently stabbed.

Fuck I swear if she lives and I see her I'll fucking stab her right then and there, no question no contest. My brother did not die for her sorry ass.

I drop the rope, and I wipe the tears that have been streaming down my face.

I will not see Liam again, until I see the face of the reason he died. If she lives. If she doesn't, well, running at first formation is always a second option.

[some-little-infamy]

heart of a rider, mind of a scribe

(Read on AO3)

Violet tries, and fails, to ignore the knocking on the door to her room.

No, not her room - it’s simply the room she’s staying in, because she’s so far from anywhere she would call home. Her brother is on the other side of that door, she’s certain of it. She’s learned to tell his knocks from Xaden’s, not that it matters. She won’t open the door for either of them, she hasn’t for days.

She can’t face them, or anyone else right now. Every time she thinks she’s regained control of her thoughts and emotions they begin to spiral again until she’s barely able to breathe, her vision dimming around the edges.

How could she be so foolish?

She’s a Sorrengail. This entire year she’s been so hellbent on living up to her mother and siblings’ names, of the Sorrengail name, that she forgot there was another Sorrengail with a legacy to uphold.

Worse than anything else that’s befallen her these past few days, is the realization that she let her father’s memory down. He raised her to value knowledge, to utilize the power of words and stories. She knows how important they are because he told her, ingraining it into every facet of her life and studies. If she only followed her gut instinct to bring the book of fables… if only she kept her head and her wits about her amongst all the physical conditioning and… and…

Violet doesn’t realize she’s crying again until the tears are soaking through her shirt, pressing it cold and damp against her chest.

She had everything she needed to figure this out weeks ago. Months ago. The incidents that never made it to their classroom reports - the scroll she accidentally read, and the attacks her sister was involved in - all the information was there. All the signs were there, right in front of her face, but she was too focused on her own goddamn drama to piece it all together.

She should’ve known, should’ve realized sooner.

She could’ve figured out the truth behind the Wyverns and Venin.

She could’ve saved so many lives.

She could’ve saved Liam.

Instead, she spent her time training to fight, or worrying about her friendship with Dain, or fixating over her stupid crush on Xaden. Nothing mattered except fitting in. Nothing mattered except surviving, getting stronger, and proving herself physically. She let everything else fall to the wayside, including everything that made her her. She lost herself a little bit more every day she spent as a Rider.

And because of that, she lost so much more.

On some deeper level Violet knows that this isn’t her fault. She knows that there are people much higher up than she is to blame for the lack of information and transparency. She wonders how many more secrets her mother kept that harmed so many more than they helped. Is that the legacy she’s so keen to uphold? One rooted in selfishness and the sacrifice of others to serve her own best interests?

Violet tells herself that she’s nothing like her mother, that she actually saved a lot of lives by figuring it out in the end… but it isn’t enough.

She isn’t enough, not split in two the way she is.

The heart of a rider and the brain of a scribe, constantly at war.

A Sorrengail, through and through.

It’s time she starts acting like one - all of it, everything that comes with her lineage, not just whatever bits and pieces she feels like handpicking for any given moment.

Violet wipes at her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt in careful dabs, not wanting to add to the redness she’s certain is already exhibited there, before standing up and making her way to the door.

There’s work to be done.

[kazz-brekker]

objectively i knew that publishing decides ahead of time which books they want to be successful, but it's really SO fascinating to see it play out in real time now that i work as a bookseller. like, we've had plenty of new releases by popular authors like rick riordan and cassandra clare since i started working at my store, and although the really big books sometimes get a piece of merch like a sticker or a little sign advertising the book, iron flame by rebecca yarros is the only book we've released so far that had a midnight release party, mini tote bags for pre orders, specially made pins and temporary tattoos, multiple decorations for the store including a huge poster and cut-outs of dragons to hang on the walls, and a special edition of the first book that's only slightly different from the original book but is selling just as well as the sequel. it's wild. if that publisher decided to push any other book as hard as they were pushing the special edition of fourth wing, that book would be a bestseller several times over. as it is, it makes me dizzy to think about how many copies of those books have sold in the last 24 hours.

[xcziel]

not me trying to explain to everyone else at work that we need to put like an approximation of an armed guard on the jungkook standee once it's out on friday

[amywritesthings]

press four for more options. | part one.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4.6k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - alternate universe (modern), slow burn, eventual smut, sex work, phone sex, dirty talk, dom!levi, light dom/sub Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part two. | masterlist

“Thank you for calling the Scout Services Hotline. You’re only a dial away from your wildest fantasies with the sexiest singles near your area.”

God, even the automated voice sounds porn-y.

A breathy feminine voice straight out of a 1975 VHS tape croons into the dead air of your small apartment bedroom, setting your nerves on edge.

God forbid the noise travels through the walls into your next-door neighbor's bedroom. Harriet and Miro do not need to hear what you’re up to this Friday evening.

Maybe, up to this Friday evening.

You haven’t decided yet, though one could argue that calling was half the battle.

Dressed head-to-toe in an emerald cocktail dress with a face full of tear-stricken makeup, you feel utterly ridiculous sitting at the foot of your bed — not even the edge of the mattress, but the goddamn floor.

Even your black heels, now scuffed from someone stepping on them on your way out to fetch a cab, remain dangling at your toes.

(As non-committal as your last relationship, ironically enough.)

The experts say don’t shit where you eat. Dating someone you work with typically goes up in flames as fast as a rogue wildfire — and you should have listened to all of the warning signs, but Porco Galliard had been so damn charming that you’d forgotten just about everything.

Including your dignity, apparently, since you seemed to conveniently forget the part where he has had an on-again, off-again relationship with Pieck Finger well before you got hired at this place.

Not exactly side chick behavior, since he technically didn’t cheat, but the sting of being second place before the race even started lingered deep.

(Didn’t you know? He always chooses Pieck. It’s just one of those things.)

Well, no missing that now.

Especially since the two of them were so cozy at the annual shareholder event — right in front of your fucking salad.

The event’s slated to end at eleven so you’ve been nursing a wild array of drinks since seven, with little breaks.

In retrospect, the napkin with scribbled chicken scratch that Annie Leonhart, your closest colleague, shoved into your hand in the midst of your brooding at the bar may have been a joke:

You need to loosen up. Call this stupid sex line and get that stick out of your ass.

She wasn’t kidding. 

Every muscle in your body is too taut, including your brain.

So you took a cab, stumbled into your apartment, and landed — here.

Your phone sits right in front of you next to one of your half-worn heels, on speaker at the lowest setting.

Maybe it’s best to let the pre-recording list the entire numerical menu.

Maybe it’ll deter you from pressing anything at all.

“If you already know your match’s extension, press one.”

Yeah, that wasn’t happening.

You tap the napkin carelessly against the stem of your glass of wine, contemplating exactly how Annie Leonhart managed to find the information for this service to begin with.

Did she already have a match?

Did she regularly call them to blow off some steam?

She's always so chill. It would make sense.

There’s a chance this is a nasty prank at your lowest moment, but you don’t think Annie cares enough about other people to plan such a masterful takedown. 

At the work event, she seemed pretty serious about the legitimacy of Scout Services Hotline, and honestly?

Even if you had been drinking all night at the event, you were going to need way more liquid courage to even consider trying your hand at calling a sex line to quell weekend loneliness.

So naturally, you opened a new bottle of wine.

At the first glass of wine, you still weren’t ready.

The second? The napkin sat adjacent to your laptop as you played compilations of sad break-up songs further aggravating your spiraling depression.

The third was the charm to get you to pick up the fucking phone to see what the fuss was all about.

“If you’re looking for someone specific — whether it’s the man, woman, or person of your dreams — press two.”

Tempting.

Your finger reaches out for the ‘2’ on your screen, but you wait it out.

“If you don’t have a preference for your delicious match, press three.”

“You could’ve done without the delicious part,” you mumble to yourself, picking up the glass of wine to take a generous sip. An involuntary grimace tugs at your cheeks.

“If you’re looking to speak with one of our representatives or need more assistance, press four for more options.”

For a solid five minutes you wait.

Contemplating.

Deciding.

You could press the red circle to hang up and go to bed.

It wouldn’t be the first time you rubbed one out and called it a night.

After all, what’s one more lonely weekend?

The spiel starts up again on a loop with the same seductive, breathy feminine voice.

“Thank you for calling the Scout Services Hotline. You’re only a dial away from your wildest fantasies with the sexiest—”

You smash a button, but you’re not sure which one you’ve clicked.

Before you can lean over to see on your screen, a different feminine voice comes over the speaker.

It’s a little higher pitched than the menu screen voice, but it’s still inviting. Warm.

“Thank you for choosing the Scout Services Hotline. You’re speaking to Petra. May I have the pleasure of knowing the name of the person I’m speaking to this evening?”

A name.

You should give a name that isn’t your real name.

But technically wouldn’t your name be on the credit card if you go through with this anyway?

“You can give a nickname, too, if that makes you feel better,” the woman named Petra adds as if she's a mind reader, breaking the running silence on your end of the line. “A lot of our clients like giving a fake name for security and anonymity.”

“Doesn’t that break once you put in your credit card information?” you blurt, not realizing the thought has spilled on your lips.

Petra laughs musically.

“Technically yes, but if you prefer to be called something, then we’ll be sure to add that to your profile. I take it it's your first time calling.”

Why are you doing this again?

“Painfully obvious, right?” you lament, staring down at the scribble on the napkin. 

Did Annie have a fake name with this service?

“Not painfully at all,” Petra promises. “It’s a learning curve. So what may I call you?”

Real or fake?

Committed or just testing the waters?

“Scarlet?” you suggest, wincing immediately at the on-the-nose literary reference.

Letters, passion, blah blah love — it’s about the only creative thing your wine-addled brain can muster.

“I like Scarlet,” she hums, and immediately your brain is set on fire.

Are you going to be seriously this easy?

“Are you female, male, non-binary, genderfluid, prefer not to say…?”

“Female.”

"Pronouns?"

"Um, she and her."

“And you’re over eighteen?”

“Definitely over eighteen.”

“Perfect. So, Scarlet — did you have a preference on who you wish to speak to today? If you have a fantasy you wish to fulfill, then I can select someone for you.”

You want to scream.

Neurons fire as you try to come up with a cool and collected answer, only to allow the elixir of truth on your tongue to spill the beans.

“Just someone who’s got their shit together, honestly.” You exhale an awkward laugh. “I don’t know. I’m just calling because — I mean, I know you don’t care, but I like… um, deep voices? Stronger voices. Honestly I have no idea what to—”

“I have just the person.”

You pause.

Blink.

But you didn’t even describe anyone, not really.

A voice, maybe, if they cater to kinks of that nature.

You can only imagine they do — it’s a sex hotline, for crying out loud.

“Wait, you do?”

“Mhm!” she perkily states. “Is a man alright for this evening?”

A man with a deep voice who allegedly has his pretend shit together.

Granted it isn’t the opposite of Porco, he’s fairly capable at his job and out living his life just fine, but maybe you were just looking for a copy.

(Or a clue.)

“A man is… fine,” you hesitate. “Wait, so when do I give you my credit card information? My friend hooked me up with this, um — I don’t know if you have her name or if I should even say it, I know there’s probably some confidentiality—”

“Hold that thought,” Petra interrupts cheerfully. “You get the first fifteen-minute session for free, actually — you called just in time before our first-timer coupon expires.”

You can’t hide your surprise.

“Really?”

“Really!”

Ha, your fucking luck.

“If you're enjoying the call, just tell your match and we can set up your card and keep it going. All we ask is that you take a survey after your session. Then you’ll be in our system with this phone number! We’ll never solicit you for calls, but it’ll make the process faster the next time should you call our hotline again.”

You drop your head back on your mattress, sighing heavily.

“...okay, yeah. That sounds great.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure.”

“Give me one moment, Scarlet,” Petra giggles.

You hear something shift on her side. 

Maybe she’s swiveling her chair. Are they located in an actual office building?

God, an office where people just do this for a living sounds larger than life.

“I’ll connect you with your match in a moment.”

Then the line cuts out to the opening notes to Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get It On, and you’re pretty sure you’re this close to chugging the rest of this bottle in one gulp.

“Is this seriously what you do on weekends, Annie?” you mumble to yourself, enduring the brutality of the waiting music while Petra connects you to your alleged match.

A man with a deep voice who has his shit together.

Is that even a real kink?

Has the bar really gotten that low?

Should you have described someone’s appearance? It wasn’t like it mattered over the phone.

As soon as it gets to the high note of the song, the line cuts again — silence.

Immediately you scramble to sit up taller, your hands fumbling to grab the phone from the floor.

You bring it up to your face, cupping the device in both palms to muffle the noise if it becomes downright pornographic in seconds.

Moment of truth.

With bated breath you wait — the person on the other line sighs, heavy and deep, before answering with the most nonchalant tone.

“Thank you for calling the Scout Services Hotline. You’re speaking with Levi. May I ask whom I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

Holy fuck.

Immediately you forget your own voice listening to the hum of the receiver.

While you’ve only joked in passing that you have a voice kink, it’s screaming in neon lights here and now: this man’s voice may be monotone, but there is a growl to it. 

A rumbling.

At this very moment, you completely forget that this man is on speaker phone and you’ve just returned home from the worst work event in the world.

You don’t have an ex-boyfriend.

You don’t even know your home address.

You’re simply… existing, lips parted, taking in the sheer tingle rolling through your torso.

“You there?”

Right, you’re meant to talk back.

“Huh? Oh — yes! Yeah,” you recover poorly. “Hi. It’s, um, it’s Scarlet.”

“Mm, Scarlet… Scarlet, Scarlet, Scarlet…”

The way the name drags along his tongue nearly makes your mouth water. 

His voice — Levi — is smooth, like the velvet on your dress you’ve yet to take off.

“A pretty name for a pretty thing like you.” Something ruffles and Levi makes a small noise on the other end, likened to a cut-off hum. “Tell me what you look like, Scarlet.”

All you can do is stare at a chip in your wooden dresser directly across from you, listening to him speak.

“I’m…” 

What do you even say? 

How come you have to say anything at all? 

Can’t he just read a takeout menu to you and call it a night?

Before you can answer, there’s an amused huff. “Someone’s nervous.”

Your face turns — well, a certain shade of scarlet.

“Ha. Sorry, I’ve—”

“Never done this before?” he finishes for you.

How mortifying. 

“Is it that obvious?”

“It’s cute,” he relents, and you feel your face turn a degree hotter. “Don’t worry — I’ve been told I’m a great teacher, so you’re in good hands.”

“You’ll have your work cut out of you, trust me,” you breathe, feeling like you’ve been injected with an overdose of a truth serum. “Because I just got home from this stupid work event. My ex-boyfriend brought his new girlfriend — who also works with us — as his date — yay, me — except I feel like I was the side-piece-in-waiting for them. So he’s off getting laid and I’m calling a complete stranger on a random Friday because my work colleague recommended this phone sex hotline for a quick solution.”

Silence.

You blink twice as dread settles in your cut. You tap the phone off of speaker and push the device close to your ear, balancing it with your shoulder.

Did you scare him away? 

Was that too much of a depressive dump? 

You suddenly want to crawl under your bed frame and hide there forever.

But then — a gentle chuckle sounds from the other end of the line, and arousal shoots straight to your lower belly.

“Good thing all of the dirty talk is my job, then,” he muses. “You’re supposed to lay back and listen.”

“Listen?”

“Yeah, unless you weren’t looking to get bossed around.”

It isn’t the worst idea you’ve ever heard, that’s for sure.

“If I’m honest with you, Levi, I don’t know what I’m looking for,” you confess, running a hand down your face.

“Then let me figure it out for you. We have time.”

The man calling himself Levi pauses on the other end.

“Did you want to get fucked, Scarlet?”

Well, shit, he didn’t have to say it like that.

“Yes,” you blurt without thinking, then fumbling to recover. “I mean— Sorry, clearly I called thinking about sex, and your voice is extremely lovely and actually very hot—”

“Oh, you think so?” Levi interrupts, honey-smooth voice humming with amusement with that same hum that’s going to make you scream.

“Absolutely. Completely. Are you serious?” you sputter. “You’re like an ASMR wet dream.”

“A what?”

“A wet dream?”

“No, the other thing — ASMR?”

“Um, like when people make really niche quiet noises to a microphone with their mouths, and it gives you the tingly sensation in the back of your head.”

“Interesting,” Levi says. “So are you saying that’s what I do to you?”

For the umpteenth time, your brain blanks.

God, you could scream into your pillow.

If you weren’t so afraid you’d forget to mute your microphone first, then you already would be.

“Yes! — I mean, yes, but — wait, can we just pause this for a second?”

For a moment he doesn’t answer, but the tone of his voice shifts: still just as sultry, but with a hint of confusion and a dash of concern. 

“Of course. Is everything alright?”

No, this entire night is weird.

If you don’t say something, then this is going to just keep looping and wasting his time.

“Okay,” you start, mustering the courage to get through your speech, “I know I’m spoiling the first-caller coupon for a free call and I’m sorry, I’ll totally pay for the session since you’re great and sound insanely hot and I’m sure you’re amazing at your job, but I just…” 

You trail off, collecting your swimming thoughts.

“...I’m something like six or seven drinks in, I am craving potato chips, and I’d really like to just talk to someone for a few minutes.”

There.

It’s out in the open, your confession to the liminal altar.

You half-expect him to hang up rather than wasting his time with someone like you, but to your surprise, there is no click. No call ended. No new automated message.

“Six or seven is a lot,” he comments, and you can picture a brow furrow even if he doesn’t have a face. “Does this mean you handle your liquor, or is this a one-off rager?”

“I think I’m only still functioning because I ate my weight in dinner rolls at the party.”

“Do you have a glass or bottle of water near you?”

The switch up lessens the tension in your shoulder blades in an instant.

His voice is just as crooning, deep and inviting, but it’s nice to simply be asked.

“Nope.”

His voice sharply changes, authoritative and firm. “Then go get one.”

The demand does something to you. 

Without thinking twice you begin to rock up on your heels, standing at full height.

“Okay, Mr. Bossy.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” he asks with a sprinkle of sarcasm. “Someone who has their shit together, if I read the notes right.”

“They write that stuff down?” you ask genuinely, minding your step as you pad barefoot across your apartment to your fridge.

“It’s your session,” he reminds softly. “We do whatever it is you want to do.”

“Even if it’s just to talk?”

“You’d be amazed at how many people call just to talk. Though I can’t say it’s my specialty.”

“No?”

“No. I’m not much of a small talker.”

The refrigerator door swings wide. “What’s your specialty, then?”

“Kink play, mostly. Dom and Sub. Guided masturbation. Edging. Making decisions for people who want to forget about making them for a while.”

One second the bottle of water is in your hand.

Next it’s on the floor.

“That’s, uh… a wide array of specialties,” you say. “And your rate, it’s…?”

“Not cheap.”

“Got it. So I’m really flubbing this free call.”

It’s small, but you hear a chuckle on the other end. “You said you wanted to talk, Scarlet, so we’re talking.”

Bending to grab your water bottle, you untwist the cap.

“Does this bother you, wasting your time talking?”

“You’re not wasting my time, Scarlet,” he says with such a promise that you almost believe it’s genuine. “You have a pretty voice, and you’re funny.”

“Shut up.”

“You do, and you are.”

“Uh-huh. And do you talk to a lot of people during your shifts?”

“That’s confidential.”

“So a lot.”

“Confidential.”

“And the length of calls,” you test, “are they hypothetically confidential, too?”

“It’s per minute, so.”

“Per minute?” you gawk. “Jesus, I’d go bankrupt talking to you.”

“Well, premium members receive bills per half hour,” he explains. “More bang for your buck.”

“Quite literally," you mumble. "And what’s a premium subscription get you?”

“Didn’t you check out the website before calling?”

“I told you I stumbled out of my cab and called the number on my napkin, Levi,” you chide. “I didn’t exactly do my research in my sexually frustrated state.”

“Fair, can’t blame you there.”

There’s something of a grunt on the other end, like he’s stretching his arms over his head.

Maybe he’s sitting in an office chair, too, going through the motions of his profession the same way the Petra lady had been.

You keep wanting to imagine what he’s doing on the other line, but you realize you haven’t asked the titular question yet.

“Hey, Levi?”

“Yeah, baby?”

It’s breathy, a roll of thunder in his tongue.

Instead of an office chair, you imagine a man lying on his bed.

Maybe his tie is half-done, hanging loosely around his neck.

Button-down open, exposing the planes of his chest; dress trousers unbuttoned and loose around his hips, so he can easily slide a hand—

Whoa.

You stop walking back to your bedroom and blink twice. “Oh, so you like pet names.”

Your face, in miraculous humiliation, grows another degree hotter at how amused he sounds with himself. “I never said that.”

“Sure,” Levi replies with a smirk to the concession. “What is it, Scarlet?”

(Maybe you’ll permanently change your name to Scarlet after tonight if it sounds this good on a man’s lips.)

You finally unzip the side of your dress and wiggle out, before finding a cozy spot in the middle of your mattress.

“How much time do I have left on this freebie?”

“Approximately three minutes.”

Time flies when you’re too busy gawking over someone’s voice, apparently.

“Can I ask what you look like?” you finally decide, playing along.

“I’m surprised it took you this long to ask,” Levi responds, returning to that same seductive tone he’d used when he first picked up the line. “Black hair, guess it’s a little shaggier than usual. Undercut.”

You squint to your ceiling. “I’m thinking of Dimitri from Anastasia right now but with black hair.”

“I have no idea what that is.”

“You’ve seriously never seen Anastasia?”

“It’s a movie?”

“Oh my god, Levi, I’m so sorry for your childhood.”

“It’s an animated movie?” he scoffs. “Even worse.”

“You wound me,” you joke, pressing a hand over the cup of your beige bra. “What color are your eyes?”

“A gray-ish blue,” he tells you. “Sharp nose. High cheekbones. I’m a daily gym go-er, so I’m mostly lean muscle. I can probably pick you up, easily.”

So a fit man with an undercut hairstyle with gray-blue eyes and a relatively sharp face. 

Now you have a face to the image of a man lying on his bed, still in that button-down shirt and dress trousers.

His happy trail is probably dark, too, disappearing just under the waistband of his boxer briefs.

Or boxers?

Maybe nothing.

Your hand moves on its own accord to the waistband of your panties, toying with the fabric.

Contemplating.

Wondering if it’s wrong — when it really shouldn’t be wrong at all.

“You sound handsome,” you murmur. “I wouldn’t mind being picked up.”

“Wouldn’t be the only thing I’d do to you,” he flippantly states, and your brain blanks to pure putty. “You sound a little more winded than before. Doing alright over there, party animal?”

“It’s late,” you lie even when you damn well know you don’t have to lie. “Lots of drinking, first water of the night, lying down…”

“Better make it two waters before you fall asleep,” Levi states. “That’s an order, Scarlet.”

“Uh-huh.”

Your hand dips under your underwear, testing the waters.

But—

“Final sixty seconds,” he adds. “Any last words you want to get in before the line disconnects?”

“Only one minute left?” you protest, ripping your hand out of your underwear to pull the phone away from your ear.

14:02

So it really had been a fifteen-minute call.

God damnit.

Tapping the speaker icon once more, you stare at your phone and press your tongue against the inside of your cheek.

“What’s your extension?”

Because you have to know.

Even if you don’t call again, it’s a comfort to have it on hand.

Levi waits a moment before responding.

“Two-five-one-two.”

2512.

You swipe away from the call to quickly pull up your notes app, tapping the number down with a noted reminder: the guy with the hot voice!

“Are you going to call me again, Scarlet?”

You open your mouth, but you struggle with an answer.

(You only have a few seconds! Think, idiot, think!)

“I’m not sure if—”

Click.

“Hello? Levi?”

“Thank you for calling the Scout Services Hotline. Please stay on the line for a quick two-minute survey so we can better serve your fantasies in the future.”

Out of time.

You drop your phone to your stomach and groan.

Instead of calling back, you close your eyes — and, not before long, fall asleep to a dream of only one voice.

.

.

— —

.

.

    Saturday is a wash.

You wake late, missing an invitation to brunch.

For the better half of the day, you wonder about him.

Levi.

Your arbitrary match that doesn't feel so arbitrary anymore.

(It's placebo effect, you tell yourself. They're supposed to make you feel wanted.)

Punishing yourself for your excessive liquor and stupid plans, you trudge to your local gym and do your best to stay focused on your workout.

Every nameless person with dark hair that walks past you on the sidewalk from your apartment; anyone could be him.

The man waiting in line at the coffee shop.

The man who accidentally walked into you while you were switching the song on your playlist at the crosswalk.

The man weight training in the corner of the room, fringe cascading down his face as he drips sweat.

You keep the napkin in your gym bag, then transfer it to your purse as you run errands.

You could call.

It isn’t like you’re strapped for cash at the moment.

Granted it’s very wish fulfillment and it isn’t like he’s actually into you, but the attention is nice.

Besides — you haven’t thought of your ex once since you woke up.

Annie texts you twice within ten minutes of each message, which is unheard for her.

 [A. LEONHART]: So? Did you call?

[A. LEONHART]: Hello, earth to moron. At least like my message to tell me you’re alive. I’m not being interviewed by Dateline for you.

(Ah, there she is. Classic Annie.)

 [YOU]: Yeah, I called. Not sure if it’s my thing.

[A. LEONHART]: Sometimes they match you with a dud. 2nd time’s the charm ;)

[YOU]: Do you ever use someone’s extension?

[A. LEONHART]: Duh. I’m a regular of one guy.

Okay, so she talks to a guy. Something grips your stomach as you type your reply.

 [YOU]: Can I ask his name?

[A. LEONHART]: Why, so we don’t eiffel tower this?

[YOU]: jfc annie

[A. LEONHART]: lmao his name is Bert

    So not Levi.

For some odd reason, you breathe a sigh of relief as you close out of your messages.

Maybe you're one of a million, but at least you're not sharing with Annie.

Once you return home from your errands, it's close to dinnertime.

You cook something simple for yourself, occasionally glancing over at your purse like you can x-ray vision through the fabric to see the napkin.

Then again, it isn’t like you actually need the napkin.

The number is already in your phone.

Pulling out your device, you set it on the kitchen counter and draw a slow, calculative inhale.

One more call can’t hurt.

Levi may not even be working.

Hell, he could be talking to someone else. 

A regular.

Several regulars.

For over five minutes you stare down at your most recent calls list, willing yourself to just get brave for one second to press the button.

(It isn’t like Porco’s going to call you.)

The soured thought propels your hand without thinking, fingertip pressing the green phone icon faster than you can think. 

You brace for the ringtone, fists balled tight on the cool kitchen surface.

“Thank you for calling the Scout Services Hotline. You’re only a dial away from your wildest fantasies with the sexiest singles near your area. If you already know your match’s extension, press one.”

You continue staring.

Are you really doing this?

It isn’t like it means anything, which is exactly what you need with the upcoming work week.

A distraction.

A very expensive distraction, but hey — you’ll avoid takeout for a few weeks.

How bad can it get?

“If you’re looking for someone specific —”

You press one.

.

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading part one of my zany little 'Sleepless in Seattle' modern au! This has been a bluesky idea for a while now, and I needed a little reprieve from my other angsty Levi longfic silver underground, so I hope you enjoyed the ride.

There will be actual smut in part two, but as a Reader!Writer I had the thought of 'would I be suave enough to do the first phone call flawlessly or totally waste my free coupon'? and this chapter was born, lol. I promise this is not Porco slander.

Thank you for likes, and even more love to those who choose to reblog this to help spread the word of this new series or reply in the comments. ilu xo

[darkenedurge]

𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐞. (𝐎𝐧𝐞-𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭).

.

CONTENT : Blood Kink | P in V Sex (Fem Durge) | Violence, Violent Language | Durge being a freak, Gortash eating it right up | Pre-Tadpole Durge & Gortash

.

˚ ✧.

“If I didn’t love you so, I’d drown in your blood. It’d be pretty, I bet. I can see it.” She says, as she lays – naked, head upon his chest, pointed nail tracing his chest hair. Disturbing it, coercing it into haphazard patterns. She has a habit of this, accompanying tender, gentle movements with deranged words spoken in her pretty, pretty voice. It had never frightened Gortash. Surprised him perhaps, when she had first enlightened him toward the notion – she was rolling her hips into his, palms cupping his jaw with an uncharacteristic softness, completely unbefitting to her, and the tandem of her hips.

“I wish I could slit your throat, and drive my tongue across the slash. Taste you, in ways I haven’t before.”

A minx, he’d called her, with a shake of his head – a tut, and a huffed chuckle.

“I am no General Thorm, dearest,” Gortash replies, finally, his hand trailing down to her thigh – repositioning her. She whines. “Cut me too deep, and I will not be resurrected.”

Silence, for a moment.

And then, a compromise.

“Let me cut your tongue, slice it.. I want to sup the blood as it spills, as we kiss.”

There was always a breathiness to her voice, a shuddering undertone of unadulterated, unhinged, excitement. Carnal desire, urge. There’s a tremor, in the very tips of her fingers, as she grips the blade – like a vice, furthered well beyond its limits. Gortash pretends to consider, pretends to have his debate – internal, between yes, and no. He pretends, and pretends, before simply sticking out his tongue.

She grins, giggles, raises her blade. Her blade was always close, always near. Within arms length.

She then shifts, onto her knees – resting on her heels, eyes flickering with want. Need.

“Only a little cut,” She specifies, and she’s honest, “I don’t want to ruin you..”

A half-tease. Gortash raises a brow.

True to her word, she makes the slit – immediate in tangling her tongue with his, succumbing to the sickly, sweet taste of iron. Copper, intermingling with the heady aftertaste of wine on his tongue. On hers. They always drank, always fucked. Always talked, always kissed. Bled, burned.

The downfall of one another, the detonation to one another’s ticking time bomb.

“Incredible,” She gasps, breaking them from their saliva stricken embrace – a string of desaturated red still maintaining a shred of connection between them. “You’re incredible.”

Gortash shakes his head, pinning her beneath him in one push – a press of his hand, fingers curling around her crisscrossed wrists, burying her bones in the mattress beneath them. “You are the incredible one, my dearest, dearest pet.”

“I hate it when you call me that.” She lies, spreading her legs – sinfully wet.

He pries her apart, sheathes himself inside of her – the fluttering of her walls greeting his cock, accompanied by her hellish, flaming heat. Her constrictive tightness, mouth falling open with a wiggle and a squirm. “No you don’t,” Gortash replies, with a grunt of effort, as he fucks into her hard. Harsh. Abusive and abrasive.

She moans, upon each thrust, thighs tensing and untensing, only to tense again.

“Bleed me again,” Gortash pants out, gaze dark – voice, low. Despite its strain.

His grip upon her hip, with his free hand, is blissfully bruising. “Kiss me,” She demands, commands, pleads – all at once. “Kiss me, and I will.”

And so kiss her he does. She bites his lip, drawing blood –letting it dribble, down, down his stubbled chin. She drags her tongue, efficiently cleaning up the mess. Her mess.

Gortash finishes, inside of her, not long after. She’d squeezed his throat, their first time together, thumb pressed hard – “You fill me up. Everytime. Don’t waste your seed, lordling. Don’t go claiming anyone else. No, you’ve claimed me now.”

He’d lost count, this was perhaps their third time of the night. Fourth, fifth, even.

Though, she finally seems tired – small, curled in his arms, nestled against him. He knows she doesn’t sleep much. Doesn’t like to, doesn’t want to. She’ll be up again, in the midst of the night – naked, hands buried in some poor unfortunate’s innards. He’ll cling to the smell of her skin, imprinted on the linen sheets.

[sunayyyy]

What people seem to forget is that jason should, by all means, kick Bruce's ass any time they truly fight.

You're talking about a child who could see untitled at like 8 years old. Talia al ghul saw potential in him but ultimately decided against taking him in. He survived for a while before being adopted, and even then, he had the balls to steal the tires of the batmobile and then swing at batman with a tire iron at 11. A malnourished kid, at 15, was regularly breaking adults' collar bones. This is a kid that terrorised goons with ease while being shorter than 5 feet (his death certificate stated that he was 4'11).

And this is pre death, pre training. He was in a comatose state, and his body remembered how to fight. At 17, he snuck into Titans Tower and knocked out every member in order to clear the area to fight tim. He planted a bomb under the batmobile and CHOSE not to set it off. Then you get to the murder tour in lost days, where he trained with the best, with the ultimate gial of killing batman. This teenager managed to go through the same regiment bruce went through while learning more, since he wasn't bound by a desire not to kill. He learned more techniques and forms from more people and managed to kill the best of the best.

Ra's al ghul, a centuries old man, called him a plague to earth, and he was also deemed fit for the all caste, who are experts on the soul and magic shit. He's the chosen one of a secret sector of warrior monks with magical flaming swords imbedded into his soul while being too young to drink alcohol. The all mother herself said that he'd brung death and destruction wherever he went.

Additionally, he's a strategic genius who managed to run circles around batman and his team, only revealing what he wanted to, all while taking over the underground and beefing with black mask and other kingpins.

No way in hell does he get beat by dick, or future tim, or damian. The only one who could even give him a fight is cass, and even then, she would struggle. When dick got turned into a juiced up vampire, jason stopped holding back and laid him out immediately. When he was drunk and in mouring and damian came in with the intent to fight, he still kicked his ass.

It fucking sucks that DC decided to turn him into a bitch just to prop the batfam up, this man is a THREAT, stop fucking with the powerscaling it doesn't make any sense.

[cateyesinlove]

꧁“𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫?“𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦, 𝐕𝐢, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞”꧂

-

-

Art by @agusney_draw

Commisioned by me

-

I have wanted to commission this scene so badly 😭

I love Xaden and Violet with all my heart 😭 Fourth Wing has completely taken over my life! I cannot wait to read Iron flame 🙏🏼 just put in my pre-ordered copy! I cannot wait!

Thank you so much to Gus like always for doing such a wonderful job with my idea and bringing it to life 🥹♥️

[inbarfink]

Part of Fionna’s frustrations with Mundanewold were subconscious longings for her old life of magical adventure, but a lot of her problems tied more into deeply-rooted issues of monotony and a feeling like she can't do anything to change her lot in life and like her actions don’t matter.

And it does seem like Fionna and Friends’ lives have been kinda Stuck in a Rut - especially when you compare the way their lives parallel and diverge from their Mainworld counterparts. Most of the differences are... rather than just different choices diverging into different arcs - it’s the same arc, but the Fionnaworld characters are just stuck behind.

Fionna is still reeling from the breakup with DJ Flame and only met Hunter at the very day our story starts. Marshall Lee has more Unresolved Issues with his mom compared to Marceline and her dad. He and Gumball haven’t even met yet. Not to mention the Mundaneworld-specific problems like Fionna being unable to hold a steady job or Gary eternally spinning his wheels about opening his own bakery. 

Fionna thought she wanted a world of magic, but while the added bits of strangeness and whimsy to Fionnaworld by the end of the show are certainly a cool fun bonus (and Cake is surely thankful to have the ability to freely think and speak her mind and stretch) - what Fionna and friends were really missing was a world where their actions matter, where things change, where they are real. 

And especially important for Fionna and Cake to admit it, because handling the fact their actions have consequences has been a huge part of both of their character arcs. For Cake it was all about getting used to the fact that her newfound human-like sapience means being measured against human-like morality. For Fionna it's about not comparing everything in her life to video games and thinking through her actions at least a little bit.

Consequences are the thing Fionna and Cake struggled with the most, but it was what they were missing all along.

Now this seems to be, like, an actual metaphysical thing. I mean, the show hasn’t gone super into detail of how Fionnaworld worked but it does seem like Prismo’s stories had an active role in moving the events of the World forwards, possibly using the same event-manipulating-Magic that make sure his Wishes have that Obligatory Ironic Twists?

And once Ice King turned back to Simon, Prismo lost all ability to observe or create stories for Fionnaworld. And what happens to characters of a story once the writer can’t access their external hard-drive anymore? They just sorta get stuck. Moving their own lives forwards without Prismo’s stories is just a lot harder.

And if there is some sort of force in control behind the scenes of Fionnaworld at the start of the series, it’s only Simon’s subconscious - a fact F&C alludes to numerous times 

And at the start of the show, how was Simon’s feeling about his own life?

In addition to Simon’s longing and memories for the pre-War world shaping the exact form of Fionna’s nonmagical world, perhaps his feelings of ennui and depression and helplessness have also subtly ‘infected’ this world?

It is perhaps not a coincidence that Marshall Lee and Gary Prince’s storyline only starts moving forwards after Simon embarks on the adventure and starts climbing out of his mental rock bottom. When things seem to move forwards for him as well.

As such, ‘Canonizing’ Fionnaworld solves more of Fionna’s problems much more than simply making it as magical as Ooo but keeping it as a tiny hidden bubble in someone's dome. It ensures the World’s inhabitants’ free will and agency and ability to enact change on the status quo with no need for Prismo’s stories or being dependent on the still-kinda-shaky mental health of Simon Petrikov. Thus giving them a world where everything matters and things can always change.

But also there's a psychological element for the Fionnaworld protagonists. You know, the reason why Fionna is stuck in her rut is because she’s too impulsive and careless. Gary is too perfectionist. Marshall never had someone who would stand up to him against his mom.

Fionna’s whole arc in the show is about learning to be more thoughtful and careful and considerate through her Multiverse Adventure. While Gary and Marshall Lee find release from the thing holding them back within Fionnaworld, with each other. 

‘Canonizing’ Fionnaworld is like... half actively altering their world into a ‘real’ one where change is possible, or at least easier - and half about an affirmation that their world was always real because change is about them outgrowing their personal issues (and also, y’know, about protecting their universe from the spiteful Beetle Cop).

And with how Fionna used to feel ‘trapped’ in the City, with nowhere to go and nothing to do - there is another change in Fionnaworld as a result of ‘canonization’ that feels very notable. 

I’m not entirely sure, but from Scarab's dialogue it seems likely that becoming a ‘real’ authorized universe just kinda manifested a whole planet and universe beyond the borders of the small existing Fionnaworld. Although I guess it's also possible that the process of repairing the existing city they found a way to expand it gradually - maybe it doesn’t matter as much as the fact that either way, Fionna’s horizons have been literally expanded. 

So you know, if she ever gets that thirst for adventure again... she actually has a Whole New World to travel and explore, it might not have (a lot of) magic but... she already heard Simon's stories of his adventures in a similar low-Magic world. It's a totally viable outlet for her.

What Fionna really needed to find the joy in her life is to be Real - to know that her actions have consequences for ill and for good. Because sometimes an adventure looks like saving a Prince of candy from an evil Ice Witch, or going on a multiverse journey to uncover a cursed Magic Crown… but it can also look like backpacking through Europe or campaigning against your evil landlady.

[death---dealer]

Taken. ( Noa x Human!Reader ) Part Twelve.

*sobbing into my breaksticks*

Title: Taken. Fandom: ( Kingdom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Sexual implications, injury, mentions of blood. ) Pairing: Noa x Human!Reader. Words: 8.1K ( ha ha I'm in danger ) Summary: You had accepted that you were going to die. The future was such a stingy thing, even now as it flashed in front of you like a thousand lives were being lived at once. Noa was never going to know. Never going to see what you saw. And for that, you were so sorry.

READ THE SERIES HERE.

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Death was not something that you admittedly confessed to your conscious mind about often, one of those innate fears that seemed to be festering in every being on the green Earth, but only a few who were daring really thought about it on a day to day basis. It happened to all living things, you thought to yourself and pressed your forehead against the heated ground below you skull to kiss whatever was left for you goodbye. There was no point anymore, the mind was willing to give itself up in an effort to save some semblance of who you were, who you were going to become at the end of the day.

Nothing, your eyes squeezed shut. You were to become nothing. Another score on the card of the sky, another tender moment that flashed before someone else’s entire vision, encasing to the outer edges of their peripheral, there one minute and gone the next even though you wanted to stay longer, just to make sure they knew what happened to you. Puffing out air hurt as you did just that, the dirt dancing from the ground below and chapping itself against your lips. With what moisture, you were unsure. The flames were taking that, too along with the sweep of the entire Eagle Clan. At--- At least they appeared to get out, there was an utterance in the back of your mind you had been tugging to ignore since you fell to your knees and then to your stomach. Cautious fear tore through you, not quite willing to let yourself be burned alive as was evident by the skid marks on the ashen laid ground below as you had managed to grasp yourself but less than a meter were the inevitable was coming for you. Maybe… Your lips parted and it appeared like you were physically kissing the ground where the young Master of the Birds had previously been, sensing the drip of iron against your tongue which you were unable to deduce as being your own, or his, this was meant to happen. When… He had accepted you into the Eagle Clan, pre-destined to be the star to help consume it all but then take it all away in an instant of self-gratification as you sacrificed your entire life force for the count of many others.

Not that it mattered, there was bitterness rising along the crown of your forehead as the blood began to seep from there, down the curve of your forehead, captivating in a dance with your eyebrows before it leaked into your eyes and you were forced to hold them shut as to not cry your own agony to the Earth.

She… She had seen enough today, fighting that tore at her flesh like yours had been, crying as the ash sunk into the dirt below and became one with something it was not meant to be, like you had wished, blood pouring into the torrents of browned and gunked soot that smeared along your face as you cried to vast cradle of empathy for the ground where you laid; riding along your senses as your fingers pressed themselves into the dirt once more, your fingernails unable to carry anymore underneath them and the numb tingling of your hands driving you insane as you were unable to tell what you were holding onto, if anything at all. You just wanted him safe; your eyes managing themselves to look towards the forest of where Soona had carried your cherished heart, having torn it right out of the warmth and security of the ribcage it pounded so heavily against when you were in his presence, even in the instant that you had pulled his heavy, dead-weight over and then atop you like a shield of protection. With him, ran your will to live any longer. With Noa, leaving the notch in your chest vacant and empty. Soona would care for him as she always did. Care for Noa and Anaya… Your irises blacked and you dropped your eyelids, not even enjoying the shutter of your eyelashes against the toppened height of your cheekbones.

You--- Releasing another shot of air onto the ground, you felt a shutter trail its way down your spine as you released a gut-wrenching cry that mimicked the sound of Eagle Sun crying above you. Not able to turn your head towards the Heavens, you made the safe bet that you were imagining things, that your racing brain was trying to remember the smaller details about your life before you were gone. One more flash, it told you on your eyelids as you stared into the pitch black, now swirling with stars. One more good look at everything you have done in your life, everything… 

Sobbing, you knew your shoulders were moving but you were unable to detect the motion as you willed your arm to lift to the right side of your body and into the bowels of your tactical pants, so warm and flooded with your own being, gushing at the sight of your mangled calves as blood smeared and poured out of you without care, your fingers couldn’t tell if you were brushing against the blue feather that you carried with you, the last piece of him you were ever going to have or if it was flushing against the cotton base of your pants themselves.

Like you ever did leave the feather to its own devices, you wanted to retort to yourself in sarcasm but even that was lost to yourself in the muddled mess of the possibility that it was even obtainable to you. The day Noa gave it to you became the day you said goodbye for the first time. 

There was nothing else for you to feel here, eyes opening into slimmed slits as you cried a weakened ‘help’, coarse, your throat was too dry to even make anymore please and your whimpers began falling to the crackling of the destruction of the village behind you, a wave of embers running along the side of your body and singing off the small hairs that were exposed to the air as the Eagle Enclosure finally brought itself down under the heavy weight of expectations. The cracking of the foundation was felt against your chest, deep in the ground. 

You wanted to give it… one more fleeting attempt… Something… Anything to get yourself to move forward, to… To… Live to see everything you were meant to be instead of a marauder for a Clan of which became a piece of you. Anaya, his smile and jokes, never taking himself too seriously as he showed you the collection of Echo items that he had scavenged, your fingers tickling against the delicate nature of what appeared to be a very, very old stuffed animal. Soona, her fingers brushing through your hair on the evenings after dinner as she talked to you softly about the Eagle Clan itself, even taking in some gossip she had heard and managed to pry out of---

The hand you had tugged into your pocket, seemingly stuck in the tight space, stiffened as you brushed the lightest edge of the feather he had given you months and months ago. Noa… He--- There was the feeling inside of you that he was alive, somewhere out in the woods that surrounded the village that was nothing more than simmering huts that were crumbling down just like the last relics of civilizations were within the Echo Ruins.

They… Were to become ruins themselves, you philosophized and chortled, feeling ash tug itself way to the back of your throat as you let a strangled cough out in an attempt to stop your lungs from liquidating the particles into a fine mix of concrete and suffocating you from the inside out. Noa, the very heart of these ruins, was still alive. You knew, you knew. 

Otherwise all you had done was for nothing. You needed that, the last bit of reassurance you were able to promote yourself to. That… was okay… A dry smile parted on your lips as you subsided and rested your forehead against the ground once more, letting the night imagine that you were pressing it against Noa’s, you were sinking into him, giving him whatever life you had left in a bid to get him to survive. 

Yes… You were always meant to save him, it was true, and that meant… He had to live. For his Clan, for his future that you were not going to be apart of and take in the delectations of him getting other in front of your eyes, the once warmth nature of his fur peppering countless white hairs in a tanglement of wisdom, your stomach turning in on itself out of an incredible sheer will of oddly placed jealousy as if you were now seeing Noa’s life flash before your eyes, two circling Eagles in the long abyss of the blue sky that rounded the Earth, always destined to meet wings, but never destined to truly glide side-by-side. He was going to be great, you felt tears crawling into the cracks around your mouth, into the open wounds where you had been beaten within an inch of your life.

Noa--- Noa would grow. His gait would strengthen, he would teach his fellow Apes of the world beyond the Eagles and assure them there was nothing to be afraid of, your lips whispering to his ear what to say to them for the past year. It was a deepened feeling that you had, assured that the Ape would do what he needed to, almost feeling a sense of pride and you could see the dance of his shoulder as he boasted to you when you were destined to meet again, allowing the soaring to take place again above the Earth, that he had done good by you. That Noa had learned, that Noa… Had lived a full life. Finally, your fingers managed to tug the feather of your pocket out and you drew it upwards towards your face, wanting it to be the last color against the blaze that your eyes were able to comprehend. 

Noa would find another more suitable for him, your heart turned in on itself, beating harder than it needed to to keep you alive for the last sustained minutes you were able to spare to think about him, there had to be another if destiny allotted you the privilege to die for him, to die for the Clan to survive. Maybe even Soona, you laughed at that inside of your mind, she would be good for him.

Smart, funny, caring… An Ape herself, able to give Noa what he’d never admit to wanting but was always there in the animalistic pull you had towards each other. With the thought of your laughter came the inconsequential visual of your head tilting back with knowledge that Noa was piercing right to your jugular with the motion vivid and clear like you were living that moment from the many times it happened in the past. Another Mate, he’d be happy, the white vivid coldness that consumed you began spitting back memories of the future that were not going to live. 

There were moments you wanted to hold onto, knowing they were never yours to being with. 

Noa grasping the back of your head and holding your forehead against his own, explaining in his own terms that… There was more here, your hands digging themselves flushed into the fur of his forearms to keep you steady against the hold he had for you, the hold that was tethering you to the Earth, no longer worried about gravity. 

Spliced, taking from your grasp.

Your lips ghosting over his own as Noa brought his thumb up to your bottom lip, your legs… Bare and naked around his tapering waist as he was positioned under you for assurance that you were not hurt as he asked, so soft and so tangled with adoration mixed with carnal desire that was also speaking in his pupil's blown eyes as the Ape looked right at your naked chest, the hackles of his fur-lined body raising in anticipation of the moment. “Are you… sure… I am what you want?” That wasn’t a question, you wanted to whisper but as your hips drew themselves down in assurance you were spat to another remembrance of the future that was not meant to be.

Never to be and you were chasing the pieces of faded obscurity. 

The lazy sun pierced your eyes as you squinted at the crystal clear blue of the sky above you, head resting in the surprisingly familiar lap that you had grown accustomed to. The ripping of the thigh muscles ensuring that you were always going to be safe, mouth curling itself into a content smile as you looked at your mated beloved. Echo behavior, Noa’s voice rang in your ear as you felt a pull towards that nature as your lips parted as you whispered the smallest utterance of an ‘I love you’.

Time will forget all things Echo, they were all dying.

‘Child? My…?’ Noa’s voice was barely more than a whisper in your eardrum as you nodded in acute fear and confirmation. His own, your own. Two species sharing in something kind and gentle that would be raised as both. The idea that he could… That he--- Was able to do this with you running rampant as you were pulled so tightly to his chest, your hands drawing themselves into the fur at the base of his muscular neck, ripened now with age as you figured time had passed now as things were going linarily forward, rubbing it in your death-ladened brain that you were never going to experience these moments yourself. The running film in your mind came to a stuttering stop, no more your subconscious told you. Those were going to be reserved for the day you met again and he told you what he had accomplished, letting you, a measly little Echo that blipped his heart for a year, live vicariously through because deep down, Noa would be able to admit that it should have been you.

He’d… Your lips closed themselves as you no longer wanted to taste your tears. Noa would become a father, some day. Hopefully soon, you wished. The Eagle Clan deserved preservation of their greatness, their goodness and kindness that they had shown you despite your differences.

Their acceptance… Would be graced onto a baby Chimpanzee, Noa proud beyond belief, but scared… You swallowed hard. You knew he was going to be so afraid, the feelings drastic in your mind. Failure is always on the horizon in his acute self-deprecation and you could feel your hands holding his baby, so vivid like the softened fur was encasing your senses as you looked down at them with tendered eyes. Their features were not clear, but the green of their eyes was always going to be alight with curiosity and obsession just like Noa’s.  

You… are going to become the future that Noa wants, you whispered to the baby you held carefully, maternal in all aspects as you loved the blessed wispfulness of fur that laid upon their hair. Bringing your forehead down to touch them so gently was the easy part, like you were giving them your blessing, your mergerance with Noa so clear that you knew death was coming for you. The future that he deserves, Echo and Ape alike, no animosity… Be… kind to him, he’s doing his best…  You told the baby in your arms. Please, do this for me since I cannot do it myself.

You shared them with him as intended, Noa coming into vision out of the corner of your eye, but they were torn from your grasp at the moment of fruition once you had reached for him and handed the baby Chimp back to the Ape with solemn sadness and he said nothing in your hallucination but gratefully accept the invitation you gave him, his arms strong and caressing the child, so small against his chest as their hands grasped at his chest, the bare nature of his scar, downwards to nestle deep into their fathers chest to sleep… To bond…. He would be afraid of failing them like he feared failing his own Father, but you hoped that he…Would… Remember this, that he knew you had seen this and that things would be okay, and that you were going to be with him without actually being there. 

I hope he does know that. You looked at the feather between your bloodied pointer and middle finger and gave it a twirl which seemed to deplete you of all other energy as your eyes blurred and the feather and its fine detailing became nothing but a blur in your vision. Don’t become the rage that rests beneath the surface of guilt. Shutting your eyes, you brought the feather in and lightly placed it to your face. Nothing was felt, nothing was brushing or tickling at your skin and you knew it was time then.

Duty was served, your eyelids were heavy even though they had been shut. No, you wanted to cry, it wasn’t a duty! It was a privilege to sacrifice but you were still clinging to that notion of fear mentioned before. How afraid you were to let Noa go, afraid to let Noa live another life without you, afraid to let Noa endure love from his child when you were not there to help him understand. You calmed yourself though; he’d remember you. Until he didn't.

Until that life that you had spliced together in your own crying and jealous mind became a reality with another and you were left to be forgotten, just another Echo in the long history of your staggering clinginess as you were holding onto an Ape you never had confirmation of feelings with regardless. Fantasies were tearing themselves apart, reality was falling from under you. Yeah, your breathing was shallow and slow now, shoulders barely rising and falling, Noa would forget… And… You wanted him to. It would be unfair to say otherwise. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・

Eagle Sun squealed as he came to rest on top of Noa’s shoulder that was dulled to the misery that was still tearing through the muscles there. A plump of small ash rose into Noa’s nostrils as he himself were teetering between sleep and lucidity, taking in no conversations with those around him as he had dragged himself in parallel to seclusion behind a toppled over boulder. Soona had tried to get him to stay, she tried to convince him to conserve whatever strength he had, Dar tried to get him to stay, telling him that the Clan needed his guidance but there was nothing there for him at the moment. 

The Clan was fine, he said sharply, eyes coming in and out of focus as he looked at Soona first and then his own Mother with aggravated animosity. He would be fine, he needed--- Nothing else was said and he was gone, leaving them to deal with what he was unable to process.

Mourn, his body told him, mourn for the Clan, mourn for the Eagles of the past, mourn again for your Father, but more factually, mourn for you. Green eyes were falling ahead at nothing in particular anymore, even the dim light of the flames of the village were nothing more than a scape of black and white to the Ape, his fur crying to be brushed of the ashen wood particles of his people’s history that rained down from the gray heavens, no stars to be seen, no clarification for Noa to look upon and ask advice as if there were any. There was not, he was stupid and childish to think that there would be any advice out of the drill of ‘you need to be strong’ or ‘you need to lead your people.’ 

He did not! Noa bared his teeth and felt them grit together, his canines drilling so hard into the gummed enclosure that he caused himself pain to take away from the ripping of his chest that he felt. Anything--- His hackles were rising and falling with each thought that ran through his mind, the sweeping wrinkles under his eyes incredibly prominent as they were now highlighted red and were dripping moisture down his entire face, catching on the fur of his beard. Noa did not bother wiping them away, the clear vision of your fingers pressing under the delicate skin under your eyes and doing just that, not leaving the forefront of his mind. Such an Echo thing. Such a foreign thing. 

He--- would not think about that. About Echo’s. About how… Right his Father was, his heart blistering itself into grief ridden paranoia and hatred that was not justified if he were in his right mind. Echo’s brought nothing more than destruction with every step they took, even you. 

Every glance you gave him set him on fire from the inside out until he was charred with nothing but thoughts of what it was going to be like once Noa actually had you, every touch you gave him caused him to feel bile of want to rise in his throat especially when it was fleeting, when your shoulder did nothing but swiggle against his own furry shoulder, something that should have never happened, every smile you flashed him were ingrained into his retinas and Noa was sure to keep his eyes stagnant as to not see it. To not let himself remember that at the end of the day, this destruction of his Clan and his very own self-being were caused by you.

The Eagle Clan’s leader  wanted it so badly too, for you to step on him and take what was yours. What he had given you. Noa would still beg for it if it meant you would come back to him this very night and even with a heavily injured body, he’d somehow make you his, awkward and rigid, his blood smearing into your own as Noa desperately brought his weight down on you, crushing to the point where you had no room for air any longer, face contorting the way that was remembered in his own mind, and the Chimpanzee would ride you until the sun came up out of self-gratification and indulgence. Mine. This beautiful onslaught of hatred, muddled with adoration and perfection, leaking around the very edges of the glass with brimmed primal intent… Was all his.

“Leave… me alone…” His voice was tearing itself apart with self-loathing riding along the very edges with regret seeping into the more puddled middle. He did not want the sympathy of an Eagle who had lost their Master. Any rational thought was eradicated, his gaze sliding to intensely stare towards the bird who was perched on his right shoulder, talons now seeping into the wound that would not care to stop bleeding. Noa seethed at that, baring his teeth towards Eagle Sun, and in one sharp and twisted motion, Noa was on his feet and flew his free and uninjured hand into the air like he was going to take off himself and shouted at Sun. “LEAVE ME.” The sun would come up soon, he thought ha-hazardly, now drawing back down to the ground to resume the crumpled up position that he had been in before… Noa growled and rolled his shoulders despite the screams that he was getting from the tendons to stop movements so they could begin healing. That stupid bird bothered him! Stupid, dumb… Pointless… Bird… Noa felt a chuckled sob swipe the back of his throat. You… Loved that bird even if Eagle Sun was cautious of you. The attempts you had made to get close to him, your fingers being pecked into oblivion. That… Noa tilted his head and sniffed, the air condensed with thick burnt undertones. That was the first time that he had seen you bleed, your very first attempt to get Eagle Sun to come to you and his beak caused your fragile skin to break.

The blood was vivid in front of Noa’s eyes as he thought about that time, months upon months ago. You… bled just like an Ape, gasping loudly and letting out a strangled cry, just like an Ape as you pulled yourself away from the Eagle, muttering under your breath as you brought your finger in for inspection as Noa heard you say ‘what a jerk’. 

Your blood… The scent was still heavy to Noa like you were there with him and he was the one responsible for your breaking down form. That he had done what he carnally wanted, canines sinking themselves into the most tender piece of flesh that he was about to find upon inspection of your jugular. The pressure point pulsating for him headily, Noa’s eyes falling shut as your sweat encased his taste buds first and then the gush of crimson that he imagined would come from digging straight into the light veins that traced your skin.

‘What am I supposed to do?’ Noa signed towards nothing in particular, there was no one around to see the words that fell deftly into the world, now tracing themselves with the words that you had spoken so freely and so affectionately towards him. They felt like they meant everything but nothing anymore…

Noa drew a hard breath in and felt the flooding of his lungs and the pushing of the shattering of his ribs against the flesh that rested not outside his bruised body, but inside of it. Maybe his Father, Noa thought vaguely. That’s who he was talking to. In life, he never sought advice from Koro. He--- Never understood Noa. Never took the time to understand the way that Noa thought and for good reason! The young Ape stiffened when his body racked itself with an intense wash of keen agony at the viciousness of his thought. 

For good reason… It was Noa’s mind and his openness, his want to understand Raka, to understand the way of Caesar, that got him to this point. It made no sense, he began down that trail that was laid down with the skulls of fallen Echo and fallen Ape, arm in arm in death, but never eye to eye in life. Why… keep the teachings of the first Ape to deny the embrace of being locked in cages?

Why were… Raka’s ideas are so important to Noa, why… did he get so obsessed with them when his Father’s words were so clear? Even in his death, Noa felt he disrespected his people and refused to listen and heed any good advice from Koro. He was… Naive… You had made him naive and made him believe in the ways that Raka spoke about, perhaps taken a bit too literally as there was never emotions that equated into the agreement that was sealed in a handshake, something so Echo that Noa, thinking about it now, could only feel the imprints of your palm against him. Urging him upwards, urging him to look at the sky and he felt the glazing of your forehead against his, green, lush and remarkably alight eyes imagined how it must have felt for his half-conscious state to feel that. The kiss of your bloodied forehead against the Apes, a symbol and a mark that was never to be broken but it was when you chose to let him live in place of your own self. Noa peered at the sky, longing for something to make sense, longing for you to be there with him, to tell him that it was alright and that the emotions he were feeling were all justified.

Noa wanted to feel the tender caress of your fingers so far into his fur that there was nothing else that mattered… Because… Bringing his eyes back down, they shut for a few moments as they stung with the ash that clung desperately to the air that wanted nothing more than to cause aggravated assault. Nothing here mattered without you. Noa squeezed himself tighter and felt a snap in his shoulder, something that would have caused him to double over but it felt good compared to the rundown nature of the rest of his nerves that were flaring and desperate to start their journey to heal him. He did not care then, it felt so good to have some form or relief. Green eyes that were always so lively with color that flitted the most beautiful gold were now dull and driven to despair. Where did he draw the line in the sand?

Where did you fall into this, death coming for you twice? Once when he found you, once again when he was forced to say goodbye in Soona’s arm as he had heard your last declaration to have her save him instead of you? You were death itself, walking around him and tempting him over again with your lips against the shell of his ear, your mouth licking at the fur below and skyrocketing fear and electricity through his senses. Temptation drew him in, the idea that Echo were the same as Apes and over time it became more and more clear that it was the case, that both sides refused to see that. Temptation placed itself in your actions as you cleaned him of all doubt that he had made a mistake to offer you refuge. Greed… Seeped into every pore of his body, every fluttering aspect of his fur down to the very small hairs that lined and coated closer to his skin.

Noa was greedy and now he was willing to admit that. He had done what he wanted out of greed and desperation to break the norm and to prove to himself and others that Echo were good because you showed him that they were! You--- Noa shut his eyes and felt himself tear into an open sob. You were good… So good for him, so good to him and now he needed to grapple that there was no longer a future to envision. You were gone, you were dead, assured by his Mother for only a moment as he tore himself open to be exposed to the elements of bereavement. You were gone, the breeze was no longer bringing your scent to him and he was holding his hand out for you to take but you were so far under the water that he wasn’t even able to feel your fingertips grazing against his.

Noa rocked his body- front and then backwards viciously to get himself to stand- To motivate himself to turn his face forward and look at his Clan and admit that he had made such a drastic mistake and to promise that… He would serve them in the future and never serve himself. Noa would force himself to find a mate, maybe one of the Elders' daughters who had interest and knew the ways, Noa would force himself to bear children with them and never take in the delectations that were associated with what he imagined Echo mating to be like. The sweet caress of your body against his leathered and callus skin, the rolling of your head backwards as you arched against him and desperately pleaded for him. No more, to be forgotten. Noa would love his children surely, he would support them and give them what they needed unlike what he felt happened with his own Father but he would never let himself forget the idea that even if it wasn’t possible with an Echo - he could at least try. Noa could have at least tried to drive himself into you as many times as it took to assure the future of his Clan that seemed so bleak and droughted now to him. Noa needed to stand, to face his people instead of turning his back on them… They… He thought and looked over his good shoulder and finally turned himself into the bustle of the Apes behind him, a few meters to the west as they were being tended to by Soona and Dar. They needed him… They needed their leader to take them to the promised land and to raise them from the very ashes of history. “Noa---”

That… Narrowing his eyes, there was a wash of panic that rested in his fellow Apes that he had been so ignorant of, voices overlapping each other as twigs broke underfoot as they shuffled in the dark, soon to be twinkling with the dawn that was at the cusp of the horizon, he could hear the drawing of chittering from deep in their chest, a form of communication that was verbal but used no words followed by harder barks of aggression.

Something--- Noa’s eyes amply lit themselves up at the sight of a torch that was lingering too close to the Clan now. That voice was Soona calling his name, his eyes forcing themselves onto her movements as she was hunched on all fours, skidding to a stop on the floor of the woods and tore into the dirt and sediment below.

 “Another! There is another!”

He opened his mouth to say something, to ask anything but his voice was gone as he felt terror resting in the back of his throat at the realization. Echo. There… had been more. They… Came to seek revenge for their fallen comrades and were going to kill the rest of the Clan! Noa stiffened, “Must hurry. Get---” He grunted as he stood, his knees buckling under the sheer weight that he carried, only muscle and no fat. ‘Any ape…’ He signed to Soona and followed her closely back towards where the Clan were gawking at the appearance of another devil. ‘That can fight.’ 

The female Ape beside Noa only nodded and broke apart from him once up the small embankment of the boulder he had secluded himself behind earlier. Noa felt his movements to be slow and shining with aggravation that he was priming his taut muscles again to fight, this time, he accepted, to the death. The Earth moved below his weight, not helping the fact that he was already unbalanced beyond what he was capable of correcting in his right mind. Another assault and it would end in either their own demise, or his. The latter seemed to realistically attainable, he wanted to see you, wanted to greet you and finally tell you all the things that had been plaguing his mind since he handed you that blue feather, setting in motion a very tangly dance of courting that neither of you were actually aware of happening. 

The brushing of his shoulder against yours that would displace his scent against your sweetened notes, the stares you gave one another as you spoke of things outside of your own cultures, hands inching closer, one by one, feet stepping one motion at a time before the entire world shifted and you were gone from in front of him and Noa’s reaction time was too slow to grab at any idea that you were even there in the first place. The Master of the Eagle Clan only had one thing to fight for left. It was a male Echo that Soona drew worry to, that was the first deduction. Male, not armed…? Nothing cased his smaller body, thinned from malnutrition as most Echo were. That’s what made them so easy to hunt and kill as a sport. Noa’s brow hardened as he stared down the small hill at them as he heard a few hisses from the Apes that the Echo was passing as they were brought to Noa’s utmost attention, his brain feeling nothing more than a scrambled Eagle Egg on a hot simmering rock.

“You---” Their voice caught in their throat, nothing more than a jumbled mess of high pitched noises as they looked up at him, Noa feeling a drench of intimidating factor radiating off him, even from the very tips of his fur were they shivering and shoving down this Echo’s throat. “You’re-you… You’re the leader?” “What do you want?” Noa barked at them, letting his canines slip into display as his eyes were turned from the softness of thinking of you to the bitterness that this Echo had the audacity to come find them to finish the job as if taking you along the waist side with them wasn’t bad enough. “WHAT DO YOU WANT?!”

The tenacity in his vocals surprised everyone, the Echo falling nearly flat on his back but that was nothing compared to the stares that he was garnering from the Apes themselves. Chimpanzee eyes were widened with fear that he could kill them if he chose, if they did not pull their weight in the Clan, Bonobo green glances were shared amongst each other as no one knew Noa to be aggressive, to use force. He was an intelligent fighter, hackles began to arise on all the Apes' fur in thinned anticipation of what this meant, all minds like a hive sharing the same notion and idea of radicating revenge.

The fact that Noa was displaying such an air of arrogant hatred and encroachment evident in his powered stance, his thighs pained but willing to put forth one more effort, his shoulders, one rendered completely useless in the idea of another tussle, but the other rolling as to show the Echo that even one handed, he was more than capable of tearing their face off. “S-She’s alive!” The male held his hands up as Apes began to enforce themselves into their personal space, the clear indication of fear rising and hitting all their noses. Sweat and adrenaline as if that were going to save them if they decided to attack him. Noa’s mouth opened for only a moment as he stared at him, their eyes afraid to look into the soul of an Ape as a Bonobo next to him hissed nearly directly into his ear before his lips drew themselves back together to keep rational though his train of conductive thought began tearing itself apart. You… were alive? Where?! He wanted to rattle this Echo by the neck. TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!!!! Noa’s eyes widened minutely before resuming their narrowed glance. The Echo whimpered and shifted away but only caught the attention of another bonobo on his other side. 

“What.--- did you say?” The control in his voice was gone and Noa knew that he was running the risk of being played again but the greed he had discussed in introspection earlier was rising in the back of his skull, tickling at the notion that… The male Echo here spoke the truth. You were alive. Breathing, succulent as ever in wafted graces of smell, but hurt beyond compensation to the point where Noa wanted to rip this Echo’s face off and lick the blood off the insides for even speaking of you. No one was allowed to anymore, it was law. You were reserved in memory encased glass now, to be locked in Noa’s mind for the rest of his lie.

“The one th-that got us here! She’s AH!” A Chimpanzee grasped his forearm, looking up at Noa as they did and Noa did not give them the time of day, waiting for more baited words from this man. “I--- Was never a part of them, they threatened to kill my family… My…” He looked around frantically at the Apes around him, “My family… I cou-couldn’t do it, so I hid in the for-forest… I---” It was clear that he was bargaining with Noa, with all of them. Probably to save his pathetic little life as Soona came rounding to Noa’s right side and stared alongside with him.

“Could have saved her before---”

“They would have killed me!” “They should have.” Noa snapped back without empathy or remorse leaking out. They should have killed this worthless excuse of an Echo. No, not that affectionate in nature. This absolutely disgraced Human who probably came here to save his life rather than to be hunted by another group of ruthless Apes that would gut him alive. Noa gestured with his muzzle to take the Echo away, to let him die out in the wilderness.

A death by the hand of an Ape would come too swift to this creature, Noa decided, his eyes widening as the Echo dragged his hand into his pocket, shifting aggressively against the Apes that had a hold on him. Everyone assumed a weapon, the flashing of several pairs of teeth indicative of that along with raised fur, hardened breath and heavy beady weight drawing flat and wide feet into the ground. Echo weapon like what injured Noa so badly.

“She gave me this!” Blue. Noa’s eyes were broad with reminiscent melancholy. Eagle… Sun’s… Feather… 

“Where did you---” Soona shot Noa’s side profile a glance as his voice wavered unconfidently, not believing what she was hearing.

“She gave it to me, I’m telling you she is alive! She said you would recognize this!”

‘He lies.’ Soona signed towards her sunset brother but Noa raised his good hand and cut her off. 

‘Why risk coming here when he’s alone? Where did he get the feather?’ 

Soona responded but Noa did not pay it any attention as the feather was captivating his reddened eyes. Noa bargained now, washing into a dream-like state at the appearance of something that very clearly carried your scent within the tiny bristles. So warm, the smell was even though it was just a trace of blood, but it was there and it was catapulting the Ape into the great unknown of what lay beyond the offering this Echo just gave. Wanting nothing more than truth so he could see your face, hold your face and tell you that he was sorry for everything knowing fully well that you would say the same thing if you saw him, Noa swallowed hard. 

He felt his heart yearn for that… Even if you were actually dead, he wanted the morbid satisfaction of being the last hands to touch you. You were his and only his, even in death and Noa would never let the mounting guilt that flooded his senses ever forget that. There was always the intent to go back for you, even once the fires dissipated. Alone and torn to shreds the few things that he never cared about. He’d place you next to his Father. He’d--- He looked at Soona with a softened gaze of assurance, he’d hoped that you were with Koro and you were telling him the ways of the Echo just like you had done to his Son. 

Noa…knew that Soona was going to disagree with this much like she disagreed with the agreement you and Noa made nearly a year ago.There was no way to tell her, to describe to her that even though he knew it come be a threat, that he could die, he was more than willing to try. Willing to see you just once more after his harsh abandonment left him feeling more gaped than the wound that inflicted his chest, the blood around itr now drying in heaps and heaps upon the clotted fur that was tangled with dirt. 

She growled at him, a deflection to get him to stop considering what he was about to do. He was playing around with the emotions of one of his closest friends, teetering on the very thin line of distrust. If Soona was right, she’d never believe in Noa’s judgment again, none of the Apes would. But… If this Echo were right then… Noa was wrong, and you were still alive out there, saved by this Echo who came here… He sniffled a bit, the fur that was raised on his shoulder falling down slowly as he tried to keep his breathing rational but the feather’s appearance was dragging him into the ground below, his emotions frayed from no sleep, his brain not comprehending anything outside of getting you back to his side. 

‘I will let him take me to her.’

‘She is dead! Noa.’ Her hands quickened as the human watched them communicate in utter silence, a cruel contradiction to the loudness that Echo seemed to carry with them to all corners of the land. ‘What if he brought more!? We cannot defend ourselves with what we have!’

“You need…” Noa looked at the ground and spoke in nothing but a wistful whisper and felt a stifled cry rise in him as he lifted his tendered shoulder and placed it against Soona’s smaller body, right against her outer shoulder and he pulled her to him languidly, “To trust me… If I do not…” Soona opened her mouth to protest but could see the contemplation written on Noa’s face as he had thought this through as he so often did. And like the conversation of the past to get them all convinced to let you stay, Soona did not agree with his reason or justifications… She did not understand but she chose to do as Noa wanted. Trust.

“If I do not come back, you must take the Clan to the place we scouted out. Let them take me… to save… Eagle Clan.”

“Noa…” Her voice was soft as he tore himself from her, every step he took towards the Echo antagonistic and threatening just to drive home the fact that Noa was indeed a predator and he was willing to do what he needed to do to defend himself. Cross me, his gait said to the male who cowered as he got closer and crouched down, ignoring the sensation of intense crunching of his ribcage from the motion of his body once again closing on on itself and he peered into a set of eyes that should have been so familiar, they were Echo like yours were, but were drawn to fear much like yours had been the first time you laid eyes on Noa and he felt a prickle of familiarity at that.I will be the one to kill your family, every last one of them, his green eyes said, pupils dilated to eclipse any of the color. I will drive them to the very ends of the Earth and put their bodies up on display on wooden sheared spears if you dare.

Spotting Soona one last glance as she moved slowly on all fours towards Noa, her lacked movements evident that she was uncomfortable with his choice but once his eyes set on Dar, who had been moving to help the baby Apes move away from the fight that she sensed could break out, she looked at her Son tenderly. You… Do what you need to do to save your mate, she said softly, Noa feeling the pang hit him at the idea that Dar… 

His own Mother… Wanted nothing more than to turn back time and do the same for Koro, to help aid Noa in the fight in hopes that three against one gorilla would give them any chance. Noa knew - His mind playing the moments of his childhood where he had seen his parents foreheads pressing, his tongue out of his mouth at the display of affection, talking to Anaya and Soona about the lack of interest he ever had in fulfilling that, in setting another female Ape to take his Mother’s position that was garnered with respect and adoration. Noa knew Dar would have done what he could to save Koro and she was giving him the chance, confident her Son would succeed to do just that. 

Noa narrowed his eyes and puffed his breath against the Echo’s face. He cowered again and grunted as he fell almost straight on his back but got caught by another Chimpanzee behind him as Noa’s hand delicately plucked the blue feather right from his shimmering fingertips with acute ease and sacredness of what the item meant to the two of you. It glistened with crimson blood, dark and whispering to him that you were still alive, this blood was fresh and not dried and flaking off. Noa brought it to his lips and let his tongue swipe at it just once, coating it with a glimmer of saliva. Alive, it tasted… Tucking the feather into his armband, careful and gentle as the moistened feather now tangled into the dryer nature of his fur, he muttered.

“Take me to her.”

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・

Taglist:

@ohwaitimthewriter @hera-annwn @saturnnie-03 @filliandkili @hadesbabygurl @supergoat12 @moonchild1433

@kaenalsha  @unsteady-bitch  @whamsworld

@yummyfanta @nuhteyam @babylockley @edynmeyer1  @callsignwidow  @moonlightnyx @undecidedcookie

[felassan]

yo sorry if i missed it, i was just wondering if there is any reasoning behind the rook... nickname? Cus all I can think of when hearing rook is chess, and honestly the knight seems like a more fitting "main character" chess piece which is why I was wondering. Also in CC Rook will be the default name right? Which is just. confusing.

hello! ◕‿◕ In CC, we will be able to create Rook's actual first name ourselves. There is also a name generator in there that can generate names to choose from for this, a helpful feature for folks who are never sure what to name their characters in these type of games. Rook's last name is pre-defined based on their faction. [source: the June 14th Discord Q&A, watch link here]

my impression [speculation] is that "Rook" is a nickname, codename or title, something like that. we hear characters like Varric and Harding address Rook as "Rook" in the gameplay reveal video. there are also a few articles floating around that call Rook "the Rook" [example, two, three]. I don't know how accurate they are, but maybe Rook is "The Rook" in the same tagline sort of way that Lucanis is "The Mage Killer" and Neve is "The Detective" etc?

at the moment we only have fan theories and speculation as to why "Rook" was chosen. whatever the reason, it's likely to [speculation] have something to do with the symbolism of the imagery shown on the cover of the Red Book. It shows a "flaming rook" (as in the chess piece, or less likely, as in a tower or fortification, which 'rook' is also a word for, but much more rarely), and the outline of a wolf's head.

you might be interested in this post (<- spoiler warning for link. it mentions things that came from a leak a year ago that included screenshots of the game) I made a month ago where I was (rambling..) overanalyzing the many meanings of the word and overanalyzing/speculating on the subject just for fun hh.

Solas does have a very interesting set of banter conversations with The Iron Bull in DA:I concerning a chess match that they play with one another.

[maidflowery]

POV: Hot Vampire Wanna Strike a Deal with You

Aventurine X Reader

amorous✞cross -3-

“You can have it all.”

𝔓𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯

𝔗𝔞𝔟𝔩𝔢 𝔬𝔣 ℭ𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱

The Deal with the Devil

“Huh...?”

The next time you woke up, you found yourself resting against an ornate red velvet chair.

“Oh, look, someone is finally awake.”

A honeyed, masculine voice prompted you to lift your face.

In front of you, all the way across the long banquet table lined with candelabras, sat a handsome, blond man donning a black coat and white shirt.

Immediately, your gaze was drawn to his gleaming, purple-cyan eyes. Despite the tallow candles' reflection, his cold, emotionless eyes remained untouched by their flame, still unfeeling.

“Well, take your time. My apologies, but the place is a bit messy right now. I don’t have time to clean up.”

His words went round and round in your head.

Messy...? This place...?

You took a look at your surroundings.

Majestic stone walls towered all around you. Rich, red curtains hung from the high windows, their velvet folds reflecting the dancing flames of the tallow candles. Old paintings lined the walls, their golden frames gilded with time.

You found yourself gasping at the splendor, overwhelmed by a beauty you were witnessing for the first time in your life.

...But then, upon closer inspection, you noticed something was amiss. Some of the curtains were torn, a few paintings misaligned, and slashes and cracks marred the walls. Beyond the echo of the past, this place bore the marks of battle.

Then, you saw an iron hoop-like thing, spiky like a tree branch, rolling on the floor. White candles scattered around it, drenched in crimson liquid.

Seeing the redness, a flood of memories rushed to your mind.

The full moon illuminating the starry skies.

A desecrated land, where not even a single blade of grass remained.

A man lying face down in the puddle of his own blood, gripping a silver crossbow.

A forlorn man exuding killing intent, with blood spilling from his hand.

The same man whose presence you now found yourself in, after trying to harm his familiar.

“Always remember this: humans are selfish and greedy creatures. They also despise those who’re different from them. Nothing good will ever come from approaching them. I won’t let any harm befall you. Of course, I’ll also punish anyone who dares lay a hand on you.”

The affectionately-spoken words that spelled your doom echoed in your head.

...!!

You shuddered, dropping your gaze to your lap—or at least, tried. You couldn’t look away from his multicolored eyes no matter what.

Then, you saw his lips curve into a smile, revealing a pair of sharp, ivory fangs.

“I take it you're fully awake now? In that case, let's skip the introduction and get straight to the case.”

What did he mean by that? Gruesome images raced through your mind. You could picture nothing but horrors.

Would the creature before you drain every single drop of your blood? Would cruel torture await you at his dungeon? At this point, you'd be fortunate to be granted a painless, quick death.

“Don’t be so scared.”

In the next second, a husky voice broke your reverie, its gentleness lulling you into a false sense of security.

“It’s going to be a bit long, so here.”

Flick!

You heard him click his fingers, and in the next moment, a lavish spread appeared before you, its rich aroma filling the air.

A perfectly seared, juicy steak. Beside it, clusters of deep purple grapes sat in abundance, sparkling like jewels. Crystal wine glasses stood tall, filled with ruby-red wine that shimmered in the light, the rich fragrance of aged oak and berries rising from the glass. Wheels of fragrance cheeses, mixed with crushed herbs.

You could tell every bite was going to be delicious just by looking at it.

If not for the almost maddening pang of hunger in your stomach, you’d have believed you had died and were now in Goddess Katica’s embrace. The only reason you didn’t succumb to your base instincts was because you were in the presence of an aristocrat.

From the moment you saw his dashing appearance, elegant mannerism, and eloquent words, you already knew that he was a noble.

Then, you spotted the silverware next to you. Unlike the wooden ones you’d usually use, their polished surface reflected you like a mirror. But above all, there were about... twelve of them, each with a different shape. You recognized the spoon and the fork, but you had no idea about the rest.

Once again, you were reminded of the disparity in status between you and the master of the house.

Wouldn’t he be offended if you ate in a messy way?

Then, while you were pondering which utensil to use...

“Why don’t we make a deal?”

You lifted your gaze, meeting the eyes that seemed to capture your soul.

“...A-a deal?”

“You won’t have to starve again.”

As he spoke, his tone was both entrancing and reassuring.

Immediately, the memories of the days when you had to fight tooth and nail to stave off your hunger revived in your mind.

Those days when you had to work yourself to the bone just for scraps. Those nights when you couldn’t sleep after going without food.

Is he saying... that I don’t have to go through that anymore?

Perhaps sensing something from your expression, he continued.

“—In exchange,” he slid something toward you. “I'll be expecting some compensation."

A dagger and a small, transparent vial—half the size of your little finger.

“These are...?”

You stared at them, feeling at a loss.

Thus, the vampire kindly explained to you. “Every day, you’ll fill that vial with your blood.”

When it finally dawned on you, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the cold gleam of the dagger before you.

“T-then, I’m supposed to... With this dagger...?”

“Yes, that’s right. No way, do you expect me to suck your blood directly?”

Even though he spoke in a cheerful, joking tone, you didn’t fail to notice the glint in his eyes—the same glint the villagers would direct your way: repulsion.

Then, he went on explaining.

“There’s been a bit of a drought lately. I can't possibly put the forest animals at risk. So, it’s fortunate that you're here.”

“...”

You went quiet after you heard that.

“What’s the matter? Dissatisfied with something?”

He asked you, narrowing his eyes.

“...No.”

As you spoke, you pictured the cute squirrels that you’d sometimes encounter in the forest entrance. You didn’t want any harm to befall them, either.

“I just thought that you’re unexpectedly kind.” You stared at him and smiled.

“...”

This time, it was his turn to go quiet.

Then, after a brief silence...

“—Anyway, here’s the contract. I’ll renew it as our negotiations proceed.”

A few sheets of paper and a quill floated in front of you, steadily writing as he spoke.

This time, you were truly flustered.

“Uhm...”

“What’s wrong.”

“...I can’t read.” You shamefully admitted.

Will he get mad?

Your palms started to get sweaty.

“We can always revisit.”

However, instead of scolding you, he simply let it go.

The papers and quill quietly fell in front of you, returning to their inanimate state.

“Moving on, food and shelter are the basics I can provide. You can always ask for more.”

A life free of hunger was all you had ever hoped for. And now he was saying he could offer you more? You were astonished, so much so that you parroted him.

“...More?”

“For example, infinite wealth that would last until the end of your life and beyond. No longer would you need to struggle so hard. You’d dine on the finest meals, wear the most splendid dresses, and adorn yourself with the daintiest jewels.”

You tried to imagine it—a luxurious life beyond your wildest dreams.

“But... there’s a price to pay, right?”

From an early age, you knew that everything came with a price.

“Naturally! You’re quick on the uptake. I like people like that. Alright, for the price, let’s see...”

The dashing, blond man raised one finger.

“One sacrifice.”

Your blood ran cold.

“One sacrifice every month, and it must be from the people of your village.”

With a smile, the beguiling creature of the night suggested that you turned against your own kin for wealth.

“Why? They aren’t exactly kind to you, either. No, if anything, they seem eager to get rid of you.”

He had truly seen everything.

The other presence you sensed while dreaming wasn’t merely an illusion.

“...But...” You muttered.

“In fact, here’s something else I can offer you: power. You’ll be able to get your revenge on them and eliminate anyone who stands in your way from now on. You can carve your own path and rise to the top, free of obstacles.”

“...”

You couldn’t even begin to imagine how much that would cost. Would you even want to know?

There was no way he couldn’t see the obvious nervousness on your face.

“You can have it all.”

“Huh?”

Baffled, you instinctively looked up, but he was gone.

“Kill me, and you won’t have to pay the price.”

In the next moment, you heard his voice right behind you.

When you turned around, all that awaited you was a purple-blue lunacy.

The tall vampire leaned over to you, smiling as he matched your eye level.

Madness was all that you saw.

“W-what do you mean...?”

“It’s been so long since I had any visitor, and today, I’m lucky enough to have two. As an act of courtesy, I always invite them to a game.”

The you reflected within the purple-blue abyss shrank.

“A-a game...?”

Then, metallic coldness greeted your palm, prompting you to look around.

Since when...?!

Within your grasp was one of the pristine silverwares, its curved, sharp tip gleaming eerily.

Before you could set it down, a gloved hand covered yours, forcing you to grip it and pull it toward his chest.

“!!”

Despite the icy coldness of the forest, the blond vampire wore a thin shirt that revealed his bare chest. His smooth, bare skin exuded a faint glow, reminiscent of moonlight.

Seeing the knife's tip pointed directly at his chest, you tried to pull your hand away, but he used his other hand to hold it in place.

You could vaguely feel the tip pressing against his skin, nearly sinking in.

“Yes, a game. In fact, I did just that with the previous guest. Of course, I’ll make it so that it’s fair to you too."

The blond vampire showed you a replica of a kind, courteous smile.

“Let’s see, for someone of your stature...” His gaze swept over your arm, covered in old scars and fresh cuts. “Well, it doesn’t seem like you’ll be able to put up much of a fight.” He remarked nonchalantly.

Then, a bright idea seemed to have occurred to him.

“Alright, how about this? I’ll give you one chance. Drive it in as deep and forcefully as you can—stab me straight in the heart. Then, you can have it all.”

A hint of rutilant glow, unmistakably madness, glimmered deep within his purple-blue eyes.

At the end, he added.

“The choice is yours.”

To be a vampire's livestock.

Infinite wealth at the cost of one of your kin every month.

Unlimited power, but at an insurmountable price.

Facing this, you...

𝔑𝔢𝔵𝔱 ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯

[bythepen98]

Doodles || Hawks

Loosely based on "A Gilded Cage is Still a Cage" by @cuspidgoddess (great work! I enjoyed it)

[Long; tldr at the bottom] Thoughts while I drew this, and disclaimer: I'm no author, just someone who can't shut up sometimes when inspired

Family LoV and complicated relationship with the HPSC. Not quite bashing like in the fic, but still shady and contributed to Keigo's lack of self-worth and tendency to keep a tight leash on his more mutant instincts until Tokoyami and the league encouraged him out of it.

Dabi spoils him and calls him pretty bird. At this point, it's a dabihawks headcanon that I'm sticking to.

searched google: "do hawks mate for life?" Answer: if conditions allow, then yes. OKAY THEN. Noted

It's hard to say what the future will hold what with Keigo's life being a complete mess, but he's willing to latch on to Dabi for as long as he's allowed to. Forever, preferably. If the way he melts into putty under Dabi's hands instead of flinching away from it is any indication. Tokoyami being the first person he allowed himself giving physical affection to and that was more of a paternal connection than the fluttery feeling he gets whenever he thinks of Dabi's blue, blue eyes.

Been enchanted with him since the early days when they've first met and Dabi finally looked at him with a less wary/hostile gaze. When the moonlight glinted onto his staples just right (blame his bird fueled fascination with shiny things), and the low, albeit sarcastic croon of acknowledgement from the man, he was completely gone. The chirp -with a pathetically pinning lilt to it- that rose out of him in response was embarrassing but worth it when it made Dabi chuckle.

He'd totally understand if Dabi woke up one day and decided he was more trouble than it was worth though. No, really. He'd probably cry and hopefully not pluck too many of his feathers again out of stress but he'll live. He's made of sterner stuff, been trained to handle sterner stuff. It's fine.

His handlers have always commented on how troublesome he was when they thought he couldn't hear him. The league told him they were lying though, that he was perfect just as he is and, obvious and ironic circumstances aside, made a great hero, but surely there was a kernel of truth to it? Not all of it could be lies.

Someday, he doesn't know when, but someday for sure, the growing affection he can see in Dabi's eyes will fade away and would be laced with annoyance the way some of the few, nicer handlers had during his brief time with them training pre-debut. It's inevitable.

Maybe Dabi would get annoyed with his constant chirping, trills and whistles. Maybe he'll get tired of seeing his bedroom cluttered with trinkets Keigo would collect, his closet with a significant amount of clothes missing and said clothes occupying the bed, arranged in a way that soothed Keigo's brain but probably disgruntled and looked like a mess to Dabi even if he didn't show it. Maybe he'll get tired of lugging him around and then tell him to use his legs or wings when both are perfectly functioning and aren't there for decoration. Keigo just can't help that he likes being carried around sometimes. Dabi indulges it but surely, he'll eventually reach his limit? Maybe he'll scratch Dabi's sensitive skin by accident too many times with his talons and stupid inability to NOT grip on things whenever he's excited or stressed and get a face full of flames for it. Honestly, he's surprised it hasn't happened yet considering how the man acts with other people.

Dabi's gentleness with him? Probably a fluke that wouldn't last. He figures he just looks too pathetic to get angry at. He figures the rest of the league view him similarly too and indulges him the same way one would indulge a stray, enough to feed it and keep it warm a few times but will ultimately move on to live their lives. Never mind that he's there to "spy" on them when he's doing a trash job at it. They probably already know but indulge him anyway out of pity. Whatever it is, Keigo is still grateful with the attentiveness and care they've showed him so far but will back away once he sees that he's overstayed his welcome.

At least he still has Tokoyami by his side who looks up to him and sees him like an older brother, maybe even a parent. Enhanced because of the mutant bird traits they share and the loneliness Tokoyami would see hidden underneath Keigo's smile.

Sometimes Tokoyami is swept up by Keigo's cheerful public persona when they're both out patrolling the streets and being bombarded by people, admittedly gets annoyed by it when sweet, doting Keigo turns into Hawks and makes him run after the hero like the early days of his internship when they weren't as close and misunderstandings were everywhere. But then he'd remember the sad tilt to his expression and the crushing hug before leaving with a red feather tucked into his pocket whenever they have to separate at any length of time. His own loneliness at not having anyone to welcome him back home making his and Dark Shadow's heart hurt.

Tokoyami still doesn't know what to make of Keigo's relationship with the league, dreads the aftermath of it all really if it turns sour (Dark Shadow is more optimistic than him and calls him out for his paranoia), but he'll always be in Keigo's corner. Just give him a few more years and he'll be strong enough to protect Keigo against any villain or hspc-shaped threats on his own and from the shadows, although he'll grudgingly allow Dabi to get a few hits in since it seems like he'll be a more permanent fixture in their life if the man has anything to say about it.

tldr: ooc fluff, LoV as family. not quite HPSC bashing but close, Birdbros, or in this au, more of a parental connection between Keigo and Tokoyami because *instincts*. Google says that hawks mate for life if the condition allows it and Keigo just so happened to find said mate in Dabi, a Dabi who spoils him, calls him pretty and likes to run his fingers through his feathers. HOWEVER, Keigo is sad, insecure and blind to the idea that whatever he has with Dabi (and the league) will last and will continue to latch on to them until he feels like it's no longer welcomed. -insert unreliable narrator angst fest here- Jokes on him because Dabi would gladly burn the whole world for him if he asked but is curbing the idea because Keigo still wants to save people and his pseudo son Tokoyami is a fledgling hero. Dabi's youngest brother is also a fledging hero but he'd really like not to think about that too much.

[angstywaifu]

Love Doesn't Suit You - Brennan Sorrengail

Just a little idea that came into my head the other day, and just had to get written down for you all. That and I missed writing for this man. If any one has any Brennan ideas please send them my way. Pre Fourth Wing and Iron Flame (no spoilers), mentions of blood/violence, maybe bring tissues...... Requests Open.

Masterlist

Never in his life had Brennan thought he’d be in this situation. Especially not with you. But here he was, stuck in this situationship with his childhood friend. Too scared to man up and tell you how he really felt. In stead you slept together, kissed and flirted. But the second it came to a label on it, you bailed. Every single time he had to watch you enjoy the company of another person. Gods, he did it too sometimes. But none of them were you.

”You’re going to get caught one day if you keep this up.”

I jump back, hand clutching my chest as Brennan steps out of the shadows. The moonlight reflecting off his reddish brown hair. He knew I liked to do these late night flights. Knew I used them to clear my head of whatever chaos was going on in it at the time.

”Only if I do something stupid.” I reply before walking past him.

I hear him sigh behind me before walking after me. “Well considering some of your choices you make, it might not be long.”

”What’s that suppose to mean?” I ask as I turn on the steps to look up at him.

I knew exactly what he meant. It was the same argument we had every few weeks or months depending how it was going. Brennan wanted more but…. I couldn’t. The thought of being with someone more than just a casual thing terrified me.

”You’re in a situatioship with what, two or three people now?” He says without even looking at me. “What happens when one of them meets and figures it out? Or you get bored and come back to me?” His voice laced with anger.

”I was pretty open about it not being exclusive. I’ve always made it clear with you and them I wanted nothing more than sex.” I say through gritted teeth before turning my back to him and walking back down the stairs.

Brennan’s footsteps are quick to follow me, and I can tell by the sound he’s angry. I’ve hit a nerve. Good. It’s better that he hates me. I’ll only break his heart if I haven’t already.

”You and I know very well that they’ve fallen in love with you. Don’t act all innocent with me.” He tells me as he practically breathes down my neck.

I turn and push Brennan back, causing him to stumble into the step behind him.

”You mean falling in love like you did?” I snap, watching as he winces at my words. “I’ve always made it clear I wanted nothing more than something casual. Love doesn’t go well with our line of work. You know that.”

Brennan just shakes his head, scoffing at the comment. “Love just doesn’t go well with you.” He mutters quietly before pushing past me and walking away. “Maybe I was stupid for even thinking you would ever commit to something.”

I barely catch the last part. Knowing he didn’t intend for me to hear it. But I do. I stand frozen to the spot as Brennan’s footsteps disappear. His words echoing in my head. My heart feeling like it was just ripped to shreds and thrown on the ground. I squeeze my eyes shut as tears start to roll down my face. If only he knew. If only he knew how much I actually cared. How much I wanted to put a label on us. But I can’t. I shake my head, trying to clear the thoughts from my mind before slowly following Brennan down the rest of the stairs to the quadrant to try and get some sleep before tomorrow.

I’ve fucked up. My mind not focused on the my challenge. My mind still focused on what happened last night. Brennan’s words still echoing in my head from the night before. And because of that I hadn’t been fully focused. And now I would pay for it.

I can feel the blood dripping from the wound as my challenger pulls their knife out of my stomach. My hands rushing to apply pressure to the wound. Blood instantly seeping through my fingers as I drop to my hands and knees in the pool of blood forming on the floor. This is it. This is how I die. Black dots start to fill my vision as I feel myself slipping away. Over the ringing in my ears I hear someone calling, no screaming my name. Their voice is pained, as if they’re losing someone they love.

I cough, blood splattering the ground beneath me. Shit.

The last thing I see before I black out is a familiar pair of amber eyes looking at me in panic as they scream my name, trying to apply pressure to the wound as they pull me into their arms.

[apoemaday]

Little Sleep’s-Head Sprouting Hair in the Moonlight

by Galway Kinnell

I. You scream, waking from a nightmare. When I sleepwalk into your room, and pick you up, and hold you up in the moonlight, you cling to me hard, as if clinging could save us. I think you think I will never die, I think I exude to you the permanence of smoke or stars, even as my broken arms heal themselves around you.

II. I have heard you tell the sun, don’t go down, I have stood by as you told the flower, don’t grow old, don’t die. Little Maud, I would blow the flame out of your silver cup, I would suck the rot from your fingernail, I would brush your sprouting hair of the dying light, I would scrape the rust off your ivory bones, I would help death escape through the little ribs of your body, I would alchemize the ashes of your cradle back into wood, I would let nothing of you go, ever, until washerwomen feel the clothes fall asleep in their hands, and hens scratch their spell across hatchet blades, and rats walk away from the culture of the plague, and iron twists weapons toward truth north, and grease refuse to slide in the machinery of progress, and men feel as free on earth as fleas on the bodies of men, and the widow still whispers to the presence no longer beside her   in the dark. And yet perhaps this is the reason you cry, this the nightmare you wake screaming from: being forever in the pre-trembling of a house that falls.

III. In a restaurant once, everyone quietly eating, you clambered up on my lap: to all the mouthfuls rising toward all the mouths, at the top of your voice you cried your one word, caca! caca! caca! and each spoonful stopped, a moment, in midair, in its withering steam. Yes, you cling because I, like you, only sooner than you, will go down the path of vanished alphabets, the roadlessness to the other side of the darkness, your arms like the shoes left behind, like the adjectives in the halting speech of old folk, which once could call up the lost nouns. IV. And you yourself, some impossible Tuesday in the year Two Thousand and Nine, will walk out among the black stones of the field, in the rain, and the stones saying over their one word, ci-gît, ci-gît, ci-gît, and the raindrops hitting you on the fontanel over and over, and you standing there unable to let them in.

V. If one day it happens you find yourself with someone you love in a café at one end of the Pont Mirabeau, at the zinc bar where wine takes the shapes of upward opening glasses, and if you commit then, as we did, the error of thinking, one day all this will only be memory, learn to reach deeper into the sorrows to come — to touch the almost imaginary bones under the face, to hear under the laughter the wind crying across the black stones. Kiss the mouth that tells you, here, here is the world. This mouth. This laughter. These temple bones. The still undanced cadence of vanishing. VI. In the light the moon sends back, I can see in your eyes the hand that waved once in my father’s eyes, a tiny kite wobbling far up in the twilight of his last look: and the angel of all mortal things lets go the string.

VII. Back you go, into your crib. The last blackbird lights up his gold wings: farewell. Your eyes close inside your head, in sleep. Already in your dreams the hours begin to sing. Little sleep’s-head sprouting hair in the moonlight, when I come back we will go out together, we will walk out together among the ten thousand things, each scratched in time with such knowledge, the wages of dying is love.

[skyfallscotland]

Some updates since the last summary post. I didn't go to the convention on Sunday, but @caitm1 did and she said the workers told her that Rebecca's wrist swelled up from the amount of signatures she was doing (already, one day in!) and she had it taped up.

Rebecca also mentioned last night (Monday) at the second event I attended that she'd had a vestibular migraine just before and couldn't walk in a straight line a few hours ago, so I mean, I felt like I wanted to mention that first because as a chronically ill girlie I know how fucking hard it must be and I don't think a lot of fans appreciate what she does for us and how much she puts her body through.

Her signings this weekend were free and even though we paid for a ticket on Monday night, if you bought the ticket with the pre-signed book, that was at cost. $20 for a signed paperback. So yeah, just...I know it's a business, but she does a lot, ok. Don't be unappreciative of the extra mile.

Now, I recorded both Saturday's panel and Monday night's, I'm trying to figure out how to post it, but no website wants to cooperate with such a big file, so stand by, or like...help if you know tech things 💀

If you haven't seen my post with what we learned from Saturday's, it's here. Below is a summary of what we've learnt since then.

Bombshell alert: @caitm1 tells me that on Sunday, Rebecca said one of her original ideas for the end of Iron Flame was for Violet to become venin and not Xaden. *crickets* let's just take a moment here together... ����

Honestly, I'm all for it, I low key feel like I would have liked that better, it would have been so good, but alas, we have venin-Xaden now, so we have to deal 🥲

Now, about Monday. A lot of the questions asked and things spoken about were the same as Saturday. The host picked the fan questions she asked and didn't really pick much that was plot or character related. She didn't pick any of mine and yes, I'm still mad about it. WHAT ARE THEIR NAMES

Here's the quotes, questions and tidbits I found interesting:

• Her editor for Fourth Wing and Iron Flame, is the head of Red Tower, so she's the publisher. I did not know this. I don't think I've seen this in practice before? She's also involved with the Amazon series because of this.

• "I'm not afraid of hurting you." That we already knew. 💀

• "Because we knew what had the television series when I was in edits, so we had to write out a synopsis and when I first thought it would be five books, I immediately sent the synopsis to my editor, who, you know, we sent it to Amazon because we needed to tell them; this is the definitive vision for the story. I can tell you, in Onyx Storm, I've already deviated from like...who I thought would pass in that book, as opposed to...I've already deviated some from that."

Sorry, what? Who was meant to die? My money is, as always, on Rhi or Garrick. You know I have thoughts/feelings about that. Look, if I've learned anything this weekend it's that someone important is going to die, a lot of people are going to die, ok? She's very frank about death and the realities of war and if you're worried about your favourite side characters for the next few books, well...you should be.

• She loves writing Ridoc. @yanny-77 no chance to ask about bodoc, sorry! 😂

• On Xaden and people's perception of him: "It's always funny because I always hear...he gets compared to Rhysand a lot? Xaden's like twenty-two at the beginning of Fourth Wing; Rhysand's like what? Five hundred? Ok, twenty-two, so it's very much like—it is a college. It's a college romance and that first love."

• She was surprised at how much people loved Aaric, given how little he's on-page.

• She also defended Dain again 🥳💗 #DainApologistsClub

• She expanded a little more on Jack. So perhaps what she meant on Saturday about his reasons, was simply that his reason will be touched upon in OS, but it's clear. "Jack's motivations are clear-cut, which makes him so easy to write. He's such an example of the hunger for power and what happens when you aren't selected for the power you think you deserve, which is one of the themes of Fourth Wing. So Jack's an easy character, he's straight-on."

• Are there any easter eggs that you put in the first two books that you don't think were caught by fans? "Violet's second signet! I totally thought it was obvious. Um, I did, to the point where my editor was like 'hey, we should probably put a line in here' and I was like dude no, people will catch it." Y'all know my thoughts on that so I'll stay quite over here in my corner.

Someone asked "what is it then?" and she replied, "no, no, no, now we're having fun with this, now."

• The hardest scene for her to write in Fourth Wing was the battle scene, because it was her first fantasy and so her first one. She wrote it and her editor said no, it has to be a little longer than this.

"So that was really hard for me to write, especially because in the moment she loses Liam, she has to get up and go. And I'm used to being able to give my characters this moment to grieve, this moment to take the news, this moment to absorb it and really feel it. And it's hard to get the reader to really feel that emotion when death is coming straight for you. So that was really difficult. And I was crying."

ME TOO, TBH

• If she was to describe Onyx Storm in two Taylor Swift songs, it would be Who's Afraid of Little Old Me? & So It Goes.

• If Empyrean was written in interconnected stand alones, she would have already jumped to Rhi or Imogen.

• Her favourite sections are the epigraphs that she writes above the chapter headings. "It's my most valuable real estate, the fact that you guys skip over them sometimes, I'm like—I'm wicked funny in there, ok?"

• If Violet and Xaden visited Australia, what would they do for fun? "I'd say go visit places they can't catch on fire. I guess they could find a beach." @empyrean-thrones there you go, we're on point! 😂

And that's about it! Happy theorising! 💗

It was a wild weekend, but so worth it. I was in my feelings a lot. I hope you guys get a chance to meet her or hear her speak in person one day, too 🫶