#yes i did get ragdolled all around the forest for this shot

[robo-dino-puppy]

stalker elite

hfw face(paint)s 11/?

[thr-333]

Drastic Measures- Part 15

@daminette-december2019-2020

~Cats~

Did I set up a whole pet store b plot? Yes. could I have easily used it for this promt? Yes. but I live to be unpredictable~

Also I’m gonna give you all fair warning I’m starting to foster kittens tomorrow(huh cats good timing) so if I miss an update it is all their fault.

Ao3

First < Previous

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“So was this how you did it?” Damian asks, leaving the plane on autopilot.

“No, it was a lot less private jets and a lot more magic portals,” Marinette hands him a drink because oh yeah there's a fridge on this plane stocked to the brim, “Won’t he figure out where we are?”

“No this is a card Jason gave me he says Father never caught him so he won't catch me,” Damian sits down across from her, a sea of clouds out the window, “He actually had a whole box full I’m a little concerned,”

“Well you know as long as he doesn't do anything drastic, like buy a plane,” Marinette scoffs gazing out the window. She feels Damian's eyes on her but he doesn't say anything so she lets it be.

“How did I never realize you were Ladybug?” He’s looking at her like she's the world, a look she never gets out of the mask it feels undeserved.

“How did I never realize you were Robin?” Marinette snarks back, anything not to feel that knot in her chest, “I mean the way you tried to kill me was so reminiscent,”

“... I tried to kill you,” Damian seems stricken by the realization.

“Twice,”

“I am very sorry,” 

“... Wow,” And dammit he does look sincere, and she was ready to forgive him on his half-baked apology before how was she meant to stand up to this?

“What?”

“Oh no I was just expecting to hear your brothers scream or something,” Marinette shrugs, Damian rolls his eyes but relaxes, “You actually apologized,”

“Yes surprisingly I understand the concept,” Damian snaps not looking directly at her.

“Now you’re back,” Marinette smiles, letting herself relax.

“About what happened,” Damian breaks the silence again, “The whole soul mate ordeal, does that actually exist?”

“In a way, usually not the way people think,” Marinette faces him turning on more of her Ladybug confidence, “The universe is all about balance, that's the whole point of the miraculous, like the creation of the Ladybug miraculous has to be balanced by the destruction of the Cat miraculous, if it’s not, the world is out of balance, you get things like Hawkmoth,”

“So that’ll happen to us?” Damian leans forward with rapt attention.

“No, miraculous are powerful examples but balance applies to people too, soul mates balance each other out if one dies then the other person is off-balance,” Marinette makes vague gestures to support her explanation, “Sometimes the effects are minimal sometimes they are extreme, it all depends on how well you know your soulmate and if you have a miraculous,”

“What happens if they have a miraculous?”

“Well miraculous have more power and if you wear them long enough that power becomes part of you, if only one person has that power than the bond is off-balance, so usually the guardians try to pair up soulmates to hold the miraculous,”

“So you-”

“Extenuating circumstances,” Marinette waves off before it can be mulled over, “Master- the guardian that chose me feared it might have negative effects on you but I guess being… everything balanced it out a bit more,”

“So you said it’s not romantic,” Damian's blushing now, Marinette holds her breath, “Does that mean-”

They are thrown to the side, alarms start blaring and they are losing altitude quickly.

“What's going on?!” Marinette stands up shakily, using the seat to pull herself up.

“We’ve been shot,” Damian's running to the cockpit, “We’re going down,”

“Damian!” Marinette grabs him, the ground is visible now and they are quickly approaching the forest. 

There's no miraculous to protect them. Marinette grabs the parachutes passing one to Damian they shrug them on before opening the door.

“Ever done this before!?” Damian shouts over the wind.

“Nope!” and with that Marinette jumps out of the crashing plane.

She stops the fall by deploying her parachute, drifting down as the plane crashing into the rain forest. She gets tangled in the canopy trees, getting out of the parachute Marinette makes her way down to the forest floor far from the crash here and no Damian insight.

“Hey, Damian! Where are you!” Marinette shouts meeting silence, running through the jungle, “Are you alright!? Answer me!”

“Define alright,” Marinette looks up above her and there Damian is, hanging from the branches like a ragdoll, “do not laugh,”

“I’m not laughing,” Marinette is definitely laughing, “No I’m just checking my phone up high like I always do, ignore that sound pretty sure it’s just a bird,”

“Marinette stop taking pictures and get me down,”

“Alright, alright,”

She does with some trouble eventually getting Damian down safely.

“So whereabouts are we?” Marinette peers through the trees.

“Jungle, far from our target,” Damian has his specialized GPS out, “We’ll have to find the nearest town and get transport,”

“Right, town,” She whistles,  “There seems to be an abundance of those around,”

“There's one a few days walk from here,”

“Perfect,” Marinette rolls her eyes, following Damian's lead, “Who shot us down anyway?”

“Could be the military, wouldn’t put anything past Father, there may be a villain base nearby,” Damian lists, “Or perhaps, it was some poachers,”

“What Damian you didn’t spring for the armored jet?”

“I would have if I didn’t-” He stops looking at her despondently, “You’re messing with me,”

“Yep, but the fact you fell for it is very revealing,” Marinette pats him on the shoulder walking forward. She gets the distinct feeling of being watched and looks around casually as possible, spotting the source,  “In other news have you seen that mushroom over there,”

“We’re being followed,” Damian whispers to where she was pointing near the hunter.

“Amazing deduction, if only someone had pointed you in that direction,” Damian smirks before Marinette asks, “Who could it be, Batman? Assassins?”

“Or the people that shot us down, or both,”

They both watch cautiously taking a step forward, then they get attacked. Marinette and Damian dodge to the side in time. And no it’s not Batman or a villain or anyone else its-

“Big kitty!” Marinette squeals the tiger prowling towards her. Marinette reaches out with her magic trying to soothe them.

“Marinette stand back,” Damian warns, forced to the opposite side.

 “Please Damian this thing looks so starved I could speed walk away from it and it wouldn't catch up,” Marinette reaches out, cautiously despite her flippant attitude. The tiger sniffs her hand before bumping against it harmlessly, her creation magic soothing it, “Come on let's help her out,”

“How on earth did you pull me into adopting a tiger?” Damian asks as they stalk through the forest tiger in tow.

“Please, I’d probably have to hold you back from adopting it,” Damian doesn't deny it, “We’re just making sure she gets some food,”

“And how are we not turning into that food?” Damian asks, backing up as the Tiger stalks closer to him.

“Miraculous magic, animals tend to love me,”

“Especially cats,” Damian says a weird pinch to his tone.

“Sure, cats, ladybugs… oh,” She stops, looking back at him.

“You said miraculous holders should be soul mates,” Damian's talking to the ground.

“Yeah but Adrien's not my soul mate,” Marinette puts her hands on his shoulders, “You are,”

“So you two arent?”

“Not at all,” Marinette smiles, Damian relaxes and they keep walking.

“That's good,”

“Good?” 

“I didn’t say that,” He’s blushing now and Marinette’s not above teasing.

“Yes you did~”

“Marinette shhh, we’re trying to hunt here,” Damian shushes her still in a teasing tone. Marinette laughs, running to catch up.

 ---

 The hunt goes well. Well enough that Marinette should be more worried the tiger is about to adopt Damian not the other way around. They are carrying the kill for the tiger back to the den. She goes inside while they set the food down outside.

“Do you think she has babies!?” Marinette is also not above using her magic to pat tiger cubs.

“I’d say by the empty den no,” Damian backs up from his peeking when she stalks out, pacing around the area.

“I’d say by her distress and these footprints that yes,” Marinette glares in the direction the footprints go, “And that this isn’t good,”

“Follow me, I’ll track them,” Damian runs forward, closely followed.

“Another hunt, goodie,”

“You know a problem with your sarcasm Marinette is that I don’t know when you’re being genuine,”

“Oh, Damian I always use genuine sarcasm,”

Damian holds back whatever comeback he has, instead, running faster. They track the footprints through the rain forest. It isn’t far until they find the poachers. And it takes considerably less time for Ladybug and the former Robin to take them down.

“There you go sweetheart,” Marinette hands the two cubs back to their mother, not before getting in a quick pat.

“Yeah considering this man's arm that's not accurate,” Damian begrudgingly bandages the guy's arm, not with the best bedside manner.

“Yes it is~” Marinette coos at the mother fretting over the babies, “I suppose we have to take them to the hospital,”

“Right in the main city, and we should use their truck,” Damian grins evilly, Marinette matches it.

“There are closer-”

“Hush you,” Marinette gags the poachers for good measure, all of them bound.

“We’re taking a job at the Royal palace, you can be sure that we’ll mention you,” Damian glared coldly down at the men, “I would recommend not making your review any more unflattering,”

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no taglist :P

[imagine-loki]

Predator to Prey, Chapter 2

TITLE: Predator to Prey CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 2 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki lives in exile on Midgard in a forest, he can’t leave the boundary. But every night when the sun goes down he turns into his Jotun form until the sun rises again. He meets a wolf one day and befriends her, gains her trust. But the wolf is no ordinary wolf… RATING: M

The following afternoon Loki was cooking outside since it was a nice day.

One of the rabbits he’d caught from yesterday was cooking nicely over the fire, it was just ready when he heard rustling from the bushes.

He looked over and saw a pair of blue eyes peeking over at him. The same blue eyes he remembered from yesterday. 

The wolf was back.

Curious, he tore a bit of meat off and tossed it in her direction, but just about seven feet away from him. Then he turned away from her and waited, just watching out the corner of his eye.

She stayed amongst the bushes for a few minutes, just watching him. Then she slowly prowled out and moved towards him, sniffing on the way. Very cautiously she reached the piece of meat and sniffed it, then once she deemed it was safe she gobbled it up.

Loki smiled and threw her another piece. She leaped back slightly at his quick movements, but then went closer again to eat the meat. Licking her lips afterwards, her eyes landed on the fire where the rabbit was cooking.

‘Are you hungry?’ Loki kept his movements slow, he got up and walked a few feet away where he had a box stored with the other prey he’d caught. He picked out another rabbit and tossed it over towards her, it landed directly by her feet.

The wolf sniffed at it, then looked over at him unamused and then to the cooked rabbit that was over the fire.

Loki cocked an eyebrow at her reaction. He slowly walked back to the fire and, out of interest, tore yet another bit off and threw it for her. That piece she ate up quickly like the last few pieces, yet the whole raw rabbit lay un-touched on front of her.

‘What’s wrong with that rabbit?’ He asked, sitting down.

The wolf took a few curious steps closer to him, when she was just a few feet away she sat down and stared at the rabbit.

‘You prefer cooked meat?’ Loki queried, unsure why he was actually speaking to a wolf like he was expecting a reply.

But the wolf glanced at him and licked her lips, then looked back to the rabbit.

Loki shrugged, taking that as a yes. He took the rabbit off the spear and blew on it to cool it down before throwing it to the wolf. He would put another on for himself.

When the wolf ate the cooked meat, that confused Loki. Normally wolves didn’t care, so how did this one get a preference and ignore a raw one? She ate raw the other day quite happily…

As he stood up to go and get another, the wolf jumped slightly and moved further back from him, watching him carefully. Once Loki put the other rabbit on the fire, he sat down and the wolf visibly relaxed again.

Loki kept his movements calm and quiet, the wolf ended up moving a bit closer towards the fire and made herself comfortable at the other side of it, opposite Loki. She lay down, enjoying the heat.

‘You’re a curious creature.’ Loki said gently, noticing her ears twitching while he spoke, clearly listening to him.

He took a good look at her. Her coat was in beautiful condition, her teeth looked good too from what he’d seen. But it was her eyes that he was drawn to. Beautiful deep blue eyes that seemed to draw him in, in a weird way. There was just something about her that he couldn’t put his finger on.

After eating, while being watched really intently by the wolf, Loki tossed his leftovers to her and then used his Seidr to conjure up a book. He noticed the wolf’s eyes widen as he did so, but then she continued eating before settling down again.

While reading, Loki had drifted off to sleep. He felt comfortable enough in the company of the wolf, not worried about her attacking him. She seemed more curious and wary than anything else.

As he slept, the wolf slowly crept over towards him and sniffed at his hand. She then had a nosey about the outside of his cottage, checking it out.

When Loki woke, he noticed she was still sniffing around by it. He turned slowly to watch in amusement, he wondered what she was looking for. If anything, or was she just snooping about?

‘You can come inside, if you’d like.’ He said loud enough for her to hear, but he still startled her. She almost knocked over a plant pot he had by the front door as it wobbled precariously.

She was rather skittish and ran away when Loki approached her, but he carried on to the door and opened it. Then looked round at the wolf again.

‘It’s warm inside, since you seem to like warmth. I’m not going to hurt you.’ He said softly and went inside, leaving the door open.

The wolf tilted her head, watching as he disappeared. But instead of following, she ran off into the woods. Loki looked out the window and saw her fleeing. Part of him was disappointed, but he didn’t really know why. Deep down he thought it would be nice having a companion about the place.

But he shrugged it off, knowing she was a wild animal at the end of the day. Even if she did have a few quirks. Maybe it was for the best, he didn’t fancy his couch being torn with her claws.

-

A couple of days passed and each afternoon Loki was graced with the wolfs presence. He shared his food with her each time and she would lie by the fire opposite him for warmth. But she didn’t go near him, still skittish but not as bad as the first day.

One day Loki was chopping logs when he heard rustling in the bushes. He’d been expecting the wolf, but it wasn’t. Two men with guns came leaping out from their hiding places. Loki sighed internally.

This happened now and then. Some men from the nearby village thought they’d try and take out the beast in the woods to save having to send their women in to appease him. Even though it was they themselves that started the rumour, Loki couldn’t even get to their village because it was outwith his boundaries.

He wiggled his fingers, tiny sparks of his Seidr dancing around at the tips, ready to attack. It wouldn’t take long, it never did. They were weak mortals.

The men aimed their guns at him and were ready to shoot, but before Loki had a chance to attack them there was a blurry of black from the side, a snarling noise was heard as the men were attacked by the wolf.

The wolf went straight for the neck of the first man, killing him instantly. The second man tried to shoot the wolf, but he was shaking so badly and was so surprised that the wolf was easily able to take him down too. Shaking him about by the neck like a ragdoll.

Loki simply watched with wide eyes, surprised at the wolf attacking. He folded his arms over his chest and waited till she was finished toying with them, letting go of the second man his body thudded down to the ground on front of her paws.

She licked her lips clean of blood and looked over at Loki.

He smiled. ‘I’m impressed.’ He nodded. ‘Thank you.’

The wolf dipped her head slightly, as if in acknowledgement of his thanks.

‘Do you want these? Will I cook them for you?’ Loki offered, motioning to the bodies on front of her.

She sat down and licked her lips, twitching her head up slightly as if saying yes.

Loki chuckled. ‘Alright then. Never cooked mortals before, but it can’t be much different from deer and rabbits.’ Loki shrugged as he walked over, he was secretly pleased when the wolf didn’t back away from him, even when he was right on front of her when he bent over to pick up the bodies.

The wolf followed him over to where he prepped his food. She sat down and watched, almost as if in fascination at what he was doing.

While Loki didn’t eat any of the human meat, he was glad it wasn’t going to waste. The wolf ate it up happily. Loki cooked his own afterwards, then enjoyed the companionship of the wolf for the rest of the evening.

The sun was starting to go down and there was a sound of light footsteps coming down the path towards the cottage. Loki stood up, the wolf did too. She was growling and preparing to attack, but Loki put his hand out towards her to stop her when a mortal woman emerged from the trees.

‘It’s alright… She’s my prey for the night.’ Loki grinned wickedly.

The wolf growled low and backed down. But her eyes grew wide when Loki changed into his Jotun form willingly, since the sun wasn’t down completely yet. He didn’t want the mortal to see his Asgardian form. She backed away, giving some space, unsure on the human that was approaching.

Loki chuckled at the girl’s reaction, she had stopped dead when she saw Loki. He grinned and motioned her to him with a come-hither finger.

‘Come to me, pet.’ He cooed.

The girl was frozen to the spot, but then all of a sudden, she turned and made a run for it. The wolf was confused when Loki just laughed.

‘I do love it when they run.’ He then gave chase after the girl.

[scribeofmorpheus]

Mark of the Wolf Part 12

Catch Up Here!

Pairing: Derek Hale x Reader (Lastname: Markolf)

Words: 5k

Warnings: For once... no violence in a MOTW chapter. But... maybe some poorly written rushed angst? I’m sorry... I just wanted to keep this story alive without having to wait a month in between updates... Oops!

A/N: Ayyy... Next chapter things are gonna heat up a bit.... and not just with our killer hunter tree people (Oh gawd, this sentence was stupid.) Enjoy meeting the family!

Leave a like or reblog if you enjoyed this chapter! It helps ☺

~

The drive to the Homestead was filled with awkward silence, half snores and faint mumbles traded in for regular conversation. You had been resting against Derek's chest the whole drive, teetering between full-on sleep and temporal distortion from constantly zoning in and out -or at least, it felt like you were time travelling whenever you'd close your eyes for a second and then the next thing you knew, a whole hour had flown past.

Your dreams were foggy, hitting you vividly one moment then incomprehensible the next. Several symbols flooded your thoughts when your eyelids closed, so did Alyster’s hoarse voice, but you blocked most of that out. Through all the disorder within your brain, only one image presented itself clearly and repeatedly: the bow and shank of a golden key without a bit. You kept sketching it in your mind. Over and over and over again until you started tracing the outline of the shape on your thigh using your index finger. Derek noticed but didn’t say anything. You were grateful because you wouldn’t know what to say had he asked.

You knew instantly the moment you were close to home. The air smelled of pine and rain. The sound of chirping and crickets filled the night. You felt Derek's muscles uncoil as soon as that fresh forest air hit his nostrils. He took a long, deep whiff and that caused his chest to rise and the beating of his heart to accelerate. The sound was… calming.

A howl woke you from your half-slumber. You were greeted by a tense energy swarming inside the car. Markus chuckled before reassuring everyone it was simply your youngest brother, Jonah, alerting the rest of your family to your arrival.

The driveway was narrow and paved by pebble-sized stones in place of tar or cobble, the sound of tires rolling over stone was familiar yet odd. Out from behind a tall hedge was the old, two-story wood and brick style house and behind that was the cabin and shed. Your mother and father were standing on the porch, tight smiles on their faces diluted by the breezy way they waved their arms. Beside them stood your sister, Esme. She was wearing workout clothes, undoubtedly from spending her day training Jonah -who was nowhere to be seen.

"Home, sweet home," Markus said as he got out of the car and was promptly greeted by Esme's fist punching his side. "Oof! Why do both my sister's insist on punching me? Are hugs and handshakes no longer an acceptable form of etiquette amongst werewolves?"

Esme's brow was furrowed, she looked furious, "Werewolves, yes. Siblings, not so much.” She punched him again, “You had us worried."

You were certain she was ready to rip him a new one right there and then by scolding him with a wordy speech she had undoubtedly practised several times in the mirror, but it never came. In place of a tongue lashing, she completely blindsiding him with a strong hug. A relieved sigh leaving her full lips.

As soon as you stepped out of the car, you were nearly toppled to the ground by Jonah -who had no doubt picked up the same blindsiding habit from Esme- with one of his trademark sprint hugs.

"Y/N! I missed you! How's your new job? Saved any pups lately? Get bitten by any mean cats? What about your new house? Is it spacey? Do you have your own porch swing? I know how much you love porch swings. You probably noticed ours is gone, I kinda, sorta, maybe broke it. Anyway, what about your neighbours? Is it weird moving someplace where your nearest neighbours can hear it when you sneeze? You sneeze really loudly! Are they nosey or rude or--" Jonah rambled at a faster than lightning pace.

You were still winded from his surprise hug, you almost didn't know what was happening. You couldn’t even get a word in between each speed round of questioning he threw your way.

"I missed you too Speedy," You giggled as you patted his lithe back, he was taller and skinnier than when you last saw him. That worried you. "The real question is: 'What have they been feeding you?' You're practically all bone!" You gawked at your parents.

Your dad chuckled, pushing his glasses farther up his nose, "Don't look at us. He eats more than Esme and Markus combined."

"Hey squirt," Esme wrapped you in a hug after she released Markus from her stony embrace. After she peered over your shoulder with an arched brow at all the strangers currently disembarking from the cars. "I see you've brought guests. Good thing you called ahead of time to give us a heads up." She retorted.

"Oh tish, Esme. Don't be rude," your mom walked down the steps and welcomed the strangers at her doorstep. “Please, ignore her boorish manners. Any friends of Y/N are friends of ours. Welcome, welcome.”

Stiles fumbled a bit, wiping his clammy hands on his jeans before offering a handshake. Scott and Liam inched closer to offer their own introductions while Derek and Peter took in the sheer scope of the Homestead, the latter of whom let out a whistle before remarking, “We invested in the wrong kind of real estate...”

“We?” Derek huffed.

“We’re family. Family is always entitled to a ‘we’,” Peter pointed out.

“I think we are the exception to the rule,” Derek strode away from the insulted looking Peter and introduced himself to your parents. Theo had remained silent and guarded during the entire welcome wagon. The overly warm ambience threw him off. He stood out like a sore thumb. An uncomfortably sore thumb.

"How's the fiancé?" you asked Esme with a bright smile as you made your way inside the house. It was probably the first time you'd been able to smile freely ever since you moved to Beacon Hills.

It comforted you that the house still smelt the same: sandalwood and lavender. Sandalwood was your dad’s go-to scent, he used it to try and mask the smell of tobacco from your mother whenever he’d sneak a cigar. He was never successful in that endeavour. Lavender was the go-to scent of all the candles Maggie made from scratch. She was a dabbler in aromatherapy. Everyone else in the house would always complain about strong smells during Summer, that’s when she did most of her brewing and mixing and distilling like some new-age witch without the pointy hat or warty nose. Your wolf nose wasn’t as keen as everyone else’s, so it never bothered you much. Not unless she was working with jasmine, you couldn’t stand the smell of jasmine.

Esme rolled her eyes, "She's driving me up the wall. Who knew planning a wedding could be so… stressful."

You cocked your head to the side, "Wait, I thought Maggie wanted to elope?"

"She did, originally," Esme sighed in your mom’s direction before shooting you a small smile. "Mom talked her into having a traditional wedding instead."

"All I did was show her your grandmother's wedding dress and a few photo albums, Maggie is a grown woman, she is allowed to change her mind," Your mother winked in your direction.

Jonah darted around Derek and Scott, nose high in the air as he far-from-discretely investigated the new werewolves.

"Hey, Speedy, what is the general rule when you meet other werewolves?" Esme asked with a hint of exasperation in her tone.

Jonah huffed a sigh and pulled his lips into a pout, eyes cast down, "Never be too obvious…”

“And?” Esme pressed.

Jonah bit his lip, “And don't sniff the air… it's rude."

"And what were you doing?" Esme's hands were on her hips now.

Jonah kicked at the air, "Being rude."

You elbowed your sister when you saw your brother's pouting face pull lower, "Cut him some slack, E. He's allowed to fib a little. He’s still a kid. You all had a learning curve too." You held out your hands for Jonah and he dashed to your side and cradled under your frame as though you were his security blanket. He shot Esme a shit-eating grin. "Don't worry Speedy, I'll protect you from the big, bad wolf."

Esme snarled, her eyes turning blue for an instant and then she chuckled and ruffled Jonah's sandy curls, "You're lucky Y/N's here. But don't think for a second that you can use her to get out of morning training."

Jonah shone his golden eyes in a puppy dog manner and Esme simply smacked his face playfully, not having any of his younger sibling bullshit tactics. You laughed at the weird sound he made after Esme’s palm left his face.

You had been so caught up in just being back home and slipping back into comfortable habits that you had forgotten to introduce everyone. "Oh, how rude of me. I haven’t done proper introductions yet. Mom, Dad, Esme, Speedy, these are my… friends from Beacon Hills. That's Derek, his uncle Peter, Scott, Liam, I'm not sure who he is because we met two nights ago and we took separate cars and, of course, we all know Deaton. We had a seventh, but we left her in Mexico."

Theo smirked at your quirky way of saying you hadn't been introduced and gave a half-wave as he decided to handle his own introductions, "Theo."  

Everyone gave a wave or a nod or an inaudible, 'Hello'.

"Everyone, these are my parents, Christian and Estella Markolf. The sour face over here is my sister Esme, you all met Markus and this little runt over here is Jonah.” You shook Jonah around like he was a ragdoll, prompting a giggle from him. “Our emissary, Maggie is… somewhere, though I'm not sure where."

"She headed into town early this morning, apparently a package arrived for her," Esme filled you in.

Jonah sniffed the air again, though not as subtly as he thought he was being. Then he turned and whispered to Esme, "Does he smell strange to you?" he set his eyes on Theo.

"Yeah, I'm not all werewolf, that's why. I'm surprised you picked up on it," Theo explained to him loudly.

Esme hid her embarrassment behind a scowl, “Speedy, we just went over this…”

Jonah ignored Esme’s protests and started up a conversation with Theo, "I have a condition that makes my wolf senses more excited than normal. It means I’m constantly running about or my nose picks up on strange smells from miles away. One time I smelt a campfire that was lit on the other side of the property line. Oh, and this one time I heard scratching in the house and it nearly drove me up the wall because it was so loud but no one else could hear it… turns out it was a rat in the basement."

"Ah, Chimera," Theo offered in explanation. "What's your…uh, condition?"

"ADHD," Jonah said simply.

Peter looked at your brother like he suddenly transformed into a peacock and you protectively glowered at him. Derek subtly stomped on Peter’s foot and he let out a hiss in pain. You bit back a laugh.

"Well," you father cleared his throat. "Now that we're all… acquainted, let’s see if we can make some room for all of you. And then after, we’ll let Markus explain what exactly he was doing in Mexico and why he and Esme never bothered to tell their parents they were planning on doing something stupid." he glanced between Esme and Markus with an inquisitive brow arched high. Both your siblings looked away like they’d been burned and shuffled awkwardly.

“Before you go on and tear Markus a new one, remember to mind your temper, your blood pressure is a whole thing now and I don’t need to tell you to keep a handle on it,” your mother patted your father’s chest lovingly before turning to her eldest son. “And you. March on upstairs and take a shower and a couple of aspirin. You reek!”

 The house was full and bustling with energy. In every room there was a conversation to be had or a chore to be done. The only time the house had been this full was the time when Maggie had invited her extended family over from Ireland to visit over the holidays.

The house was already beginning to bud off into smaller groups. The youngest members gravitated towards each other. Jonah and Theo hit it off quite easily and it didn’t take long until Liam was pulled into their orbit. Before you knew it, they were outside roughhousing like teenagers -though, to be fair, Jonah was barely over eighteen.

Peter and Esme got to talking about her former pack down in Sao Paulo and Deaton, Scott and Stiles were in the study looking over several open books and notes Maggie had compiled about the hunters. Derek and Markus were outside somewhere talking in hushed whispers. Meanwhile, your dad was helping you and your mother set up your old room.

"It's good to have you home," your mother said as she unfolded the duvet cover. "Despite the circumstances."

You shrugged, focusing your energy on putting the duvet cover on the right way round.

"Though it is rather ironic," your dad chipped in as he brought several sleeping bags down from the attic. "You left to get away from all this werewolf business and somehow you come home with more werewolves. Next thing you know you’ll be marrying a werewolf."

"I get it, I'm a walking disaster with a magnet for the supernatural," you half-joked.

"That Derek boy and his uncle seem quite familiar to me," your mom's face scrunched up in thought. "He wouldn't be a Hale by any chance?"

"Y-yeah… how did you--?"

"I knew his mother, way back when, before I left my old pack." She interrupted you as she fluffed several pillows and took down several blankets from the wardrobe. "He looks so much like his mother..." her eyes glanced out the window and then back at you. “And quite handsome."

You tossed a pillow her way, "Very subtle."

She winked, "It's just an observation."

Your dad grumbled as he took the blankets out of her hands and headed out of the room, "I sure do hope that’s all that was."

“Ignore him, he’s only just gotten used to the fact that he isn’t alpha anymore, he’s a little more territorial than usual,” she snickered behind a quilt.

 You heard the clinking of Maggie's chunky metal bangles and numerous pendants before you heard her footsteps when she barged in through the front door holding a cardboard box marked with a 'Royal Mail' stamp on it, "Hey, who are those two strange boyos with Jonah outside?"

She stopped with wide eyes when she saw you, arms spreading wide so she could squeeze your frame between her two plump arms. The frilly sleeves of her summer dress rolling up so you could see her tattoo sleeve in all its glory. You noticed she had gotten a new tattoo added to the collection.

"Aww, Y/N, I've missed you! I didn't think we'd be seeing you so soon after you left..." she studied your face and frowned when she noticed the dark circles under your eyes. "You haven't been sleeping at all. You got a bad dose of stress, don’t you? This won't do." Her strong Irish lilt was still very much present on her tongue.

"Hey, Maggie, I hear you aren't eloping anymore?" you asked and she blushed dotingly.

"What can I say, I decided I wanted the fairy tale wedding after all," She tucked her short hair behind her ear as a deep blush set on her freckled face. “I’m guessing those new additions amongst the garden gnomes belong to you?"

"Oh, I brought more," you nodded behind you where Derek, Peter, Scott and Stiles were all gathered.

"Who is that tall drink of water?" she whispered, but you knew they all heard.

You ignored her comment and glanced down at her parcel balanced between her arm and hip, "What's that?”

"Oh, it's a book my brother sent over," she used her shapely nails to rip open the box with little to no finesse. "Aha!" she cheered when she finally got it open. "It's the right volume too! I’ve gotta crack on with this sweets. We’ll hang properly later, yeah?"

You nodded and stood aside to let her through.

She trotted over to the study and immediately started flipping through pages after a short and sweet introduction to the rest of the pack. Maggie and Deaton got to catching up while Stiles, who was face timing with a pretty girl, pulled up a chair to join them with their studies.

Derek glanced your way while Peter rambled to Esme and Markus about something. He flashed a quick smile at you that caused the temperature in the room to grow much hotter. You hovered aimlessly for a second before seeking out something to do. You settled for sticking your head in the fridge to try and cool down.

Those words Alyster had spoken before kept fading in and out of your subconscious all day like a malfunctioning dimmer switch you could never turn off all the way.

That night, you, Esme and Maggie had curled up under your covers with a pint of lemon sorbet and an old boxset of Friends on DVD. Even though you enjoyed your time away from the madness and bloodshed and time being hunted to the ends of the earth, you never quite relaxed into the secure sanctuary of your bedroom walls.

The crappy TV in your room had the worst sound and you had spent most of the night pretending to watch the poor quality video while Esme and Maggie rotated between bridesmaid talk, the new pack of wolves you had brought home and how many muscles Derek was hiding under his shirt -that particular topic seemed to interest Maggie more that Esme, who simply made disinterested noises every time her better half brought up the topic.

"I mean… I bet his muscles have muscles..." Maggie ate her spoon full of ice-cream slowly, mind elsewhere. "He seems like the kind of guy who would work out shirtless."

"Come with us, and all this chaos can end. Come with us and I'll tell you the truth."

Esme sighed, "If you like him so much, marry him." her words weren't mean or unpleasant, simply the ramblings of a bored woman tired of hearing Maggie fawn over Derek's muscles.

"Come with us and you will learn of your importance to the Order... And the fate of the world."

"I mean… with your permission," Maggie said sarcastically before peppering what could only be cold kisses onto Esme’s cheek, smudging her rouge lipstick all over your older sisters face. Esme didn't mind it one bit.

"All we want is you."

"Easy there, future Mrs Quinn-Markolf," Esme wiped the lipstick smudges onto her t-shirt sleeve. "You keep smothering me like this and I may just have to rethink the, 'Till death do us part' clause in our vows."

Maggie snorted, "Yeah, you'll have to rethink it if you think I'm going to be known as Maggie Quinn-Markolf for the rest of my life."

"Your blood is special.”

Esme pulled away from Maggie, “What? Is Quinn-Markolf not euphonic enough for you? I thought our love was stronger than the clashing sounds of our hyphenated last names!” she retorted.

“Your lineage is special.”

Maggie scrunched her nose and gave a blunt, “Nah, you’d be sorely mistaken there, love.” Esme gasped and Maggie peppered her cheek with more kisses before she could escape from beneath the covers, “I am only codding ya!”

“You are special."

Despite the playful atmosphere, you were too distracted to enjoy the moment.

Esme noticed you had been absent from their conversations and she chalked it up to more than just exhaustion or anti-social behaviour, "You okay, squirt?" she nudged you with her shoulder.

You hummed, taken by surprise by the question. "Yeah, why?"

"Because you've been a little… distant tonight," Maggie finished her thought for her.

"I..." you wanted to say everything was fine. You wanted to put up a brave front and soldier on, but something in you cracked and you had to hold back a sob as you finally caved in, revealing everything that had happened to you since you saved Derek in the vet clinic. You even revealed the part about you almost agreeing to be the sacrificial lamb when Alyster was in your head.

Neither your sister nor her fiancé said anything, they just let you talk and talk until you passed out. It felt good to be open and truthful without the fear of sudden judgement.

The next day, when you woke up, you were squished between Esme and Maggie. Their soft snores waking you from the longest sleep you'd had in a long while. It felt good to get that off your chest. But for some reason, the atmosphere in the house changed. It grew a little more tense.

The days following your homecoming blended together. The pack had spent their free time doing research and trying to come up with a viable plan of action. Liam, Jonah and Theo began to form an odd bond over their werewolf otherness -Liam with his IED, Jonah with his ADHD and Theo with his being a Chimera. Together, they were one ingredient short of turning into some form of an incendiary device. Their energy was exhausting, as was their constant rough-housing. You couldn't fathom how Maggie managed to reign them in whenever they got too rowdy. 

Things with Derek were different. He was more distant and whenever you did interact, he'd act pricklier than usual. He was giving you the cold shoulder. Most of the time, if he could avoid it, he wouldn't look you in the eye when he talked to you. His jaw would twitch every now and again as he spoke between clenched teeth. Peter delighted himself in watching your painful interaction. He’d always have a snide comment that would cause Derek to sigh or just walk away.

It was like Derek was being accosted by your very presence and that drove you up the wall. That was why you were storming into the woods at dawn in old combat boots and baggy pyjamas. This behaviour couldn’t continue. You wouldn’t allow it.

You found him in the middle of the meadow, he was shirtless and sweating. His biceps were straining as he dipped his body low in a single armed push-up. You were dazed for a moment, the first glimmers of daybreak causing his sweat slickened body to glisten. It seems Maggie was correct in assuming he worked out without a shirt. A flush burned at your cheeks and you bit your tongue in frustration. Damn him and his perfectly chiselled muscles.

"What are you doing out here so early?" he grumbled out without looking at you.

"I have a bone to pick with you. Didn't want to do it in front of the others," You placed your hands on your hips as though that would make you look more imposing. It didn't. 

He stood and let out a strained exhale, bare chest heaving up and down as his midriff tensed and relaxed with every breath. He brushed a hand through his dark, sweaty hair and strode over, picking up his water bottle and spritzing himself with water in an effort to cool himself down.

You could have sworn you saw some of the moisture evaporate off his body. It made you gulp.

"Alright," he was panting, eyes dark. "What is it?" his jaw did that thing again and your face grew even redder. You hoped he'd chalk it up to anger.

"You've been acting… strange around me ever since we got here. Most days you don't even look at me. Usually, this wouldn’t bother me, but we’re supposed to be working together here and I can’t help but feel like maybe I did something wrong... Well did I?"

His eyes narrowed, "Did you do something wrong?" he repeated the question with a condescending tone and then laughed darkly. "Oh, I don't know. I'm usually elated whenever the person I'm trying to protect from sudden death flirts with the idea of giving themselves over to the homicidal maniac that's been stalking them across the country!"

You gasped, "You heard me?"

He rolled his eyes at you, "Of course I heard you! The whole house heard you! You live with a family of werewolves that have super hearing!"

You were growing antsy. What gave him the right to be so angry over something that didn't concern him? What gave him the right to eavesdrop on your private conversations with Esme and Maggie?

You were positively fuming now, "Well, since you took it upon yourself to listen in on my private conversation--"

"I wasn't listening in. I have supernatural hearing!"

You held up your hand to hush him, "Let me finish. Since your supernatural hearing picked up on my private conversation, then you obviously heard why I flirted with the idea of giving myself over to that homicidal maniac. He promised to let you live. I thought you were going to die… all of you."

"That doesn't make things better. He could have been lying to you for all you knew!"

"What if he wasn’t?

"He was!"

"What if he wasn't and all this madness would have ended once I gave myself up?"

"I don’t believe that! And neither should you. I can’t believe you were so reckless. Do you have any idea…" He ran a hand over his scruff roughly. “We promised to protect you. How do you think I would have felt if you wound up dead? Or how Scott would have felt? We chose to put our lives on the line. That was our choice.”

"If it comes down to me choosing between myself and everybody else, it’s simple math. It's my life! I never asked you to try and take it upon yourself to save me! I don't need your permission."

"Maybe you don't get a say in the matter!" Derek's eyes turned blue as he took a step closer to you. “Math isn’t all it’s about. It’s not all check and balance. Death isn’t permanent for everyone else who’s left behind. It just becomes an addition to their own equation.”

You were shaking now, voice going hoarse from all the shouting, "What gives you the right to presume to know what is and isn't best for me or what I can and cannot get a say in?" You finger poked at his chest repeatedly.

He wrapped his strong hands around your wrist, but there was no pressure, he simply used his hold over you to pull you closer so you could better hear his whispers, "Absolutely nothing."

Voice feather-light, you whispered back with a searching gaze, "Then why are you so mad with me for trying to do the right thing?"

"Because..." he tried to explain but gave up with a sigh and then dropped his water bottle.

Before you knew it, Derek's arms snaked around your body and his lips crashed onto yours in a heady kiss. His sharp canines grazed over your sensitive tongue and lips in a seductively dangerous manner. The kiss felt dangerous…forbidden. The perfect balance between pain and pleasure.

You gasped in shock when he deepened the kiss, his tongue coaxing yours to become as fervent as his -lapping, suckling and massaging tender flesh in sweet torment. A deep rumble emerged from his chest that caused your locked tongues to vibrate. Instinctively, he pulled you closer until you were pressed flush to his hot body. You moaned on reflex and felt blood rush to your head until your vision started to spin.

When he finally broke away, you stumbled and took a few breaths to try and gather your wits. Derek's wolfishly warm palms were cupping your face, forcing you to stare up into his deep green eyes. "Because you drive me insane." He finally finished.

"Oh..." a frog set itself in your throat and you had to clear it with a few awkward sounds, "I- Uhem! I, uh… didn't know that. I… I-"

You were flustered and in shock, your body burning with a sensual desire you hadn't had a second ago. All you could think about was how good his lips felt on yours. How soft and tender and deep the kiss was. How talented his tongue was.

You had to fan yourself to try and cool your skin. When that wasn't enough, you grabbed Derek's water bottle off the ground and sprayed yourself with the remnants inside.

With a shrill gasp, you turned to Derek, mustering what little dignity and authority you had left and spoke sternly at him, "That still doesn't excuse your behaviour. I'm glad we could resolve this like adults. I'll see you at the house. I have… things to do. Have a good… exercise."

You nodded to yourself and marched away, leaving the sounds of Derek's baffled chuckles behind. Before you reached the house, Jonah had appeared out of some unseen position and stopped you mid-stride. You shrieked from freight and frowned at him when he gave you an apologetic look.

"Jesus, Speedy! Don’t do that… Announce yourself next time or wear a bell," you steadied your breathing. "What is it?"

"Sorry, it's just, Maggie you know, she… uh, sent me with a message and told me to get to you as quickly as possible," Jonah rambled.

You placed a hand on his shoulder to slow him down, "Talk. Slower."

He nodded, a yawn deforming his smile, "She -Ah, good you're here, I don't have to run after you too. And, oh wow, you’re shirtless. I like running around shirtless too. Esme doesn’t like it though. She says I blind her with my pale skin. It’s not my fault that I can’t tan as nicely as the rest of the family," he spoke to someone behind you.

You turned and noticed Derek had run down from the meadow after hearing you scream. The flush from before threatened to return but you chose to focus on Jonah’s message and not Derek's intense stare.

"Right, okay, back to why Maggie sent me out here to look for you guys," Jonah continued. "She thinks she's cracked it."

"Cracked what?" Derek asked as he pulled his shirt over his shoulders.

"You know, the mystery behind the hunters who’ve been killing werewolves all over the place and what it is exactly that they want," Jonah smacked his palm on his forehead. "She thinks she knows what they are too, thanks to that book Caleb sent her –Caleb is her brother in Ireland– Deaton and that clumsy dude… Stiles, they helped her with everything. They spent all night translating this book with a girl called... Lyria? Lyra? I can’t--" he clicked his fingers repeatedly as though that would magically bring the name back to him.

"Lydia," Derek stated.

Jonah clicked his fingers once more before continuing, "Yeah, her! Anyway. Family meeting in five. Chop-chop. Before Maggie sends Esme after me… And I don't want that."

Jonah sprinted for the house and you were left a little winded by everything.

Derek placed his hand on the small of your back to urge you forward and you shuddered beneath his simple touch and he snatched his hand away as if your skin had electrocuted him.

Things just got complicated.

 To be continued...

Next Chapter>>

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[little-wintry]

Simulations

((anyway i bothered to write something today and quick thanks to @mystrangeaddiction-petra-venj for recommending ‘guardian and ghost latest adventures’. anyway all i can seem to write for Zelun is sad stuff so whoops))

Summary: Zelun tries to use the Infinite Forest to help her overcome her fears, but things quickly spiral out of control.

“Okay,” Zelun said, steadying her breathing. The room around her was a blank dome. “Ready when you are, Pirul.”

Nearby, Pirul hovered awkwardly. “Zelun, are you-”

“Yes, yes,” Zelun said, rolling her eyes. “I’m ready. Ikora was right, this is gonna be the best bet we have. I’ll be fine, you’ll be here - all you need to do is flip the switch, little guy.”

“Okay,” Pirul said softly. “Beginning simulation. Memories from the Red War.” The room shifted. Soon, she was back on the Legion base in the EDZ. And Thumos the Unbroken was standing in front of her. Zelun’s body froze for a split second - her hands twitched, reaching for her gun, and suddenly she was spraying lead.

Her body moved as if it was lightning. She lept into the air, felt her Light gather in her palms, and suddenly the image of Thumos and the rest of the Cabal were nothing but ashes.

She didn’t see Pirul, but she could hear him.

“Okay. Next… Nokris.” The ugly Hive Wizard already had a fireball in his hand. Zelun ducked and crouched behind a chunk of ice. Her hands trembled slightly as she loaded her rocket launcher, before throwing herself back into the fray.

A Thrall tore at her cloak, throwing her to the ground. In an instant, a knife materialized in her palm - and she dug it into the Thrall’s icy skull.

Slinging the launcher over her shoulder, she sent a rocket careening into Nokris’s chest.

“Next… are you ready?”

The simulation Thralls still were clawing at her, and Zelun lept into the sky, landing and barely balancing on an icy spike. “Yes, I’m ready Pirul! Launch the next simulation!”

“Uh okay- oh. It uh… the simulation is running itself.”

Zelun grit her teeth. “So this is what we get for messing with Infinite Forest tech. It starts reading my mind.”

She was going to shoot out another snarky reply, a jab at her Ghost, but suddenly a meaty, three fingered hand was around her throat and pushing her into a wall. The ugly face of the Hangman leered at her.

He dropped her, throwing his mace at her. Zelun just managed to scramble out of the way. She could smell the burning fabric of her cloak.

She landed on top of one of the Servitor cages, jumping around and trying to give herself enough time for formulate a plan. The Hangman turned, lumbering towards her, and she threw a grenade before running off again.

“Hey Pirul!” She shouted. “Uh… any ideas? Recommendations?”

She could practically feel him buzzing nervously in his shell. “Uh… you-you still have your rocket launcher, you have a shotgun which might be helpful-”

The Hangman swung his mace again. Zelun could feel the heat on her face.

“Right now probably isn’t a good time to change weapons, Pirul!”

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know!”

There was a sudden spark inside of Zelun. She grinned, running to the opposite side of the room, hanging off the side of a cage ten feet in the air.

“Nevermind,” She said, heat gathering in her palms. “I got an idea.”

She jumped, mashing her foot into the Hangman’s face, before sprinting the other way. He turned, roaring and sneering, before Zelun threw dozens of flaming, Light-charged knives into his face.

“There,” Zelun said, wiping the dust off her hands as the room faded to gray. “Okay, see if you can shut off the simulation. I think that’s good for today. I’m a little beat. We can ask Ikora to help you out next time with getting the simulation under control.”

Pirul clicked and chirped. “Uh, right… let me see…”

The room flickered - glitched out, briefly flashing from black to white. Zelun stood, suddenly, her hand cannon in her grip in an instant.

“Pirul,” She said. “If you can’t shut off the simulation, it’s okay, I’ll call Osiris or Sagira.”

“N-No, it’s not that,” He said. Zelun could see him now, his shell twisting nervously. “It… it’s taken over. It’s not listening to any of my commands.”

“Just do a total shutoff, it’s fine. We can fix it later.”

The room shifted. Four tall, Hive-made pillars. Opaque white mist shrouded anything beyond that. Zelun’s heart lept into her throat.

“Pirul,” She said. “Turn the simulation off.”

“I-I can’t!”

A silhouette began to emerge from the fog. Two giant horns protruding off the side of his head, three firey eyes, and a jagged broad sword in one hand. Zelun felt her heart stop, and she took a few shakey steps backwards.

“Pirul,” She said again, her voice trembling. “I don’t care what you have to do, just turn it off, now.”

Oryx, the Taken King, stepped forth.

“Pirul!” Zelun shrieked.

Her hand cannon dropped to the ground. Her ears started to ring - everything, memories she had bottled up for years were rushing back. Oryx, the Taken King. Oryx, the reason Mara died. Oryx, the reason Riven was Taken and Uldren was corrupted and Cayde was dead-

Every nerve in her body screamed for her to do something. Her Light was dim, but she summoned her knives - only a few, only what she could do having used her super minutes before. The King didn’t even falter.

He rushed forward, his sword cutting across Zelun’s chest. Zelun was tossed aside like a ragdoll - motionless, petrified with fear and guilt. Tears were welling in her eyes.

The King raised his sword - and stopped.

His body dissolved into nothing more than data. Zelun took a few quiet breaths. Standing behind the King was Ikora Rey, shotgun in hand.

She dropped her gun and knelt down next to Zelun. “Can you hear me?”

Zelun nodded.

“Good.” Ikora extended her hand, pulling Zelun up off the ground. Zelun’s hand drifted to her chest - the wound of the sword across her chest was beginning to bleed. Pirul darted off, and began doing his work.

Ikora shook her head. “This was my fault. I knew the Forest’s technology can be fickle. I shouldn’t have even said anything.”

“It’s okay,” Zelun croaked. “It was… it was fine before the Forest went haywire.”

Ikora sighed deeply. “Let’s get out of the Forest while we still can. Zelun, you’re riding with me.”

As they transmatted into the ship, Ikora shot a sideways glance at Zelun.

“Do you want to talk?” She asked.

Zelun sat on the floor of the ship, remaining silent. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall of the ship.

“Zelun?”

“Hm?” She suddenly shot up. “What?”

Ikora was silent for a second. “I… nothing. It’s okay. How do you feel?” 

Zelun’s shoulders tensed. “The Forest… I’ve had nightmares before, of fighting Oryx. It’s not unusual. Es-Especially in the few months after. But…” She shivered. “I… I could never really remember… much. But the Forest remembered more than I did.”

“Your brain blocks out traumatic memories most times.” Ikora said. 

“Huh.” Zelun looked up at the ceiling of the ship. “Maybe that’s why I can’t remember much.” She went silent for a minute. “I… I have a hard time remembering stuff.”

Ikora bit her lip. “You need to tell people about these kinds of things, Zelun. We have people who can help you. You don’t need to keep living like this.”

“I don’t need help.”

Ikora bit back her words. “Just… remember if you ever need someone, you can talk to me. I know it can be hard to talk to Pirul.”

Zelun stayed turned away. They rode back to the Tower in silence.

[captain-yeet]

Oh No, He’s Hot (Felix Volturi x Reader)

Summary: You were a special kind of human. You had the power of Thor himself, so you provided help with Victoria’s newborn army when they came for the Cullens. One thing you weren’t expecting, was to meet your soulmate.

Notes: *slams fist on the table* There isn’t enough Felix fics in the world so help me I’m gonna fix that because I’m actual trash let’s GO (I also posted this on AO3, this is part one of this fic)

Warnings: None.

You had a lot of close calls during the fight. You got tossed around like a ragdoll, one time hitting the ground so hard you landed wrong on a branch that cut your arm pretty bad. Which only brought on more hungry, flighty Newborns your way. One of the cons of being human was that you couldn’t react as fast as your vampire friends during the battle.

But, you made up for it with your power. When you first arrived in Forks a couple months ago, you were being attacked by a vampire. You were running through the forest that you were camping in, terrified and panicking while this rogue vamp chased you, clearly enjoying themselves. They caught up to you eventually and threw you into a tree, breaking your leg. As they approached, you raised your hands to shield your face, screaming.

All you remember after that was an electric feeling rushing through you, a bright white light, the sound of thunder, followed by screams. All you remember before passing out from exhaustion was a pair of golden eyes looking at you.

Carlisle was the one who found you, and brought you back to the Cullen’s place to patch you up. He for one was a bit dumbfounded by your powers, as was the rest of the coven. At first, they thought it was a weather manipulation power - which in part, it was. But then Alice had a vision the revealed more; you were no regular human. The extreme stress you were under due to nearly dying and having your leg broken triggered an old, ancient power in you. You had full control over lightning, being able to summon it at will and affect the weather in your immediate area.

Emmett jokingly began calling you Thor due to this, and then the nickname began to stick. While you learnt how your new powers worked and healed from your injury, the Cullens had practically taken you in as one of their own, Carlisle and Esme quickly becoming parental figures to you.

So here you were, a rip-off God of Thunder, fighting desperately and aggressively against being more physically powerful than you.

You were currently in an intense wrestling match with one Newborn, who was desperately trying to get a bite in. You held their wrists in each hand, struggling to keep them off you. You were exceptionally strong for a human, which you concluded was part of your “fake Thor-ness”, as you’d called it once. Red eyes glared into your Y/E/C ones, enraged and bloodthirsty.

Growling, you channeled the electricity in your veins through your arms, your eyes now glowing a bright, almost white-ish blue colour. The Newborn’s eyes widened in shock before his screaming began as he was being electrocuted. You grinned manically and got to your feet, never letting go of the Newborn’s arms. You watched as his skin began to crack in multiple places, eventually giving way entirely.

Two more Newborns approached you, ready to avenge their comrade. Concentrating hard, you let go of the one you were frying and crouched low before jumping high into the air, a current of lightning following you. Raising your fist and with a piercing scream, you hit the ground with a clap of thunder. The lighting surrounding you hit the two vampires, a chain like effect taking place. The force of the lightning coursing through them was so intense they cracked and crumbled before your eyes, parts of their limbs turning black before quickly dissolving into ash.

Taking a breath, you got to your feet and looked around you. The last of the Newborns were being thrown into a nearby pyre. Rosalie, Esme and some of the wolves who were helping in the fight were watching you with wide eyes.

You’d practiced with your power before, but this was the first time anyone had seen it in full force.

“You doing okay there, Thor?” Emmett called out, throwing the last piece of a Newborn he was holding into the pyre and joining Rosalie.

You nodded. “Yeah, just a bit winded!” you replied back, grinning.

Esme flitted to your side. “Y/N dear, you’re bleeding,” she said softly, inspecting your bicep where you were cut.

You gave the kind motherly vampire a reassuring smile. “I’m okay,” you replied. “I’ve have worse.”

You were pretty beaten up. A bruise was beginning to form on your left cheek, and blood gathered at the corner of your mouth. The adrenaline however was high, so you barely felt the pain in your face.

Esme wrapped an arm around you and lead you back to the others, who were discussing something in hushed tones.

Bella and Edward had rejoined the fighters, who filled them in on everything that happened. Edward was both astonished and impressed with your power after reading the thoughts in both Esme and Rosalie’s heads. One young Newborn surrendered, and was currently being watched over by Jasper.

Things were not quite over yet, however. A rogue Newborn managed to injure one of the wolves badly.

“You need to get him out of here,” Carlisle spoke urgently to the leader of the pack. “The Volturi won’t honour a treaty with the wolves, and they’ll be here any moment.”

The pack leader, who was now in his human form along with the rest of them and the injured boy, nodded and the group began to transport their friend back home.

“What about Y/N?” Rosalie asked, coming to your side. Surprisingly, the two of you got along quite well, which surprised the coven and Bella equally.

“It’s too late to get her out of here,” Edward replied, wrapping his arms around Bella. “She has to stay, they’ll smell her scent here regardless.”

Your heart skipped a few beats. You weren’t quite ready to face the infamous Volturi guard. As Rosalie gently rubbed your back reassuringly, you took a deep breath and readied yourself.

The Cullens stood in solidarity as four cloaked figures approached them, you noted they had a sinister vibe about them in the way they carried themselves. Rosalie positioned herself in front of you, so you were partially obscured by her and Esme. You could only just get a slight look at them as they lowered their hoods - three guys and one girl.

It was the red eyed girl who spoke. “I’m impressed, it’s not often a coven survives an attack unscathed of this magnitude.”

“We were lucky,” Edward replied coolly, his face betraying no emotion.

A humorless smirk appeared on the girl’s face. “I doubt that.”

You take a moment to study each of the red eyed vampires closely. One was lean, with clothes that you couldn’t decide on whether they were fashionable or ghastly. Maybe a mix of the two. The man - well, boy, next to him had an innocent looking face, much like the girl’s, save for the red eyes. They looked to be no older than 15, which made you sad. The fourth vampire was extremely tall and bigger built than his companions, the muscle of the group, you concluded.

Very attractive muscle, you couldn’t help but think, your mind going south as you blatantly checked him out.

Edward spared you one fleeting glance as if to say “Please stop.”

You shot him a shy cheeky smile.

“It appears we missed a rather entertaining fight,” the boyish vampire mused.

“Yes,” the girl replied, her smirk disappearing. “It’s not often we’re rendered unnecessary.”

Then her eyes landed on you. Your heart began to race as a cruel smile graced her face.

“My my, it appears you’ve let another human in on our secret,” she said with a slight bite to her words, alerting her companions to your presence. “Come forward, human.”

You looked to Rosalie frantically, who put her hand on your shoulder, along with Esme. “She is of no danger to the exposure of our kind,” she argued in your defense, “leave her be.”

Her words did not affect the girl, who you now assumed was in charge of this group. However it was the leaner male vampire with the questionable clothing who spoke next. “Let us be the judge of that.”

You took a shaky breath, running a hand through your battle messy Y/H/C hair. “It’s okay, I can handle it,” you whispered to the blonde vampire next to you. With that, you took a few cautious steps forward into eye-shot, heart hammering away painfully in your chest.

All eyes were on you now.

“Who are you?” the blonde red eyed vampire demanded, now glaring at you coldly.

As afraid as you were, you kept your gaze high, meeting her glare. “My name is Y/N,” you stated clearly.

“And what business does a human have consorting with our kind?”

Your eyes nervously darted around, measuring up the others’ reactions. The leaner vampire looked curious, the boyish one merely bored. The fourth however, was watching with great interest. You could feel the tall vampire’s eyes burning a hole into your face the longer you stood there. “I came to assist the Cullens in their fight against the Newborns,” you informed her, fists clenching tightly at your sides.

The girl let out a “Hmph” noise.

“She speaks the truth Jane,” Carlisle interjected, watching both you and the Volturi carefully. “She’s a gifted human.”

“And pray tell us, what are your gifts dear Y/N?” the boyish vampire asked.

You looked back over your shoulder, locking eyes with Edward. I have no choice but to show my powers, don’t I?

He slightly nodded, just enough for you to know that he heard you.

Turning back to face the Volturi, you took a deep breath before cautiously raising your hands, palms facing upward. The faint sound of thunder rumbled faintly as your hands lit up with the lightning within you. You kept your gaze steady as your E/C eyes turned from their natural colour to the glowing blue that came with using your abilities. Their reactions amused you; Jane and her group took a slight step back, red eyes wide with varying emotions across the group - shock, confusion, wariness and wonder.

“You seem to have a habit of collecting gifted young ones, Carlisle!” The leaner one called out, an amused look on his pretty, gaunt face.

You let your powers subside, the lightning and thunder toning down and your eyes no longer glowing.

Suddenly, Edward let out a strange bark of a laugh.

Jane took issue with his outburst. “Is something the matter, Cullen?” she asked, spitting out the surname.

You and Bella shared the same expression of what the ever loving fuck, dude? as you looked at her boyfriend. He shook his head before replying, baring a bitter grin. “It’s amusing, how part of your intention was to check to see if my mate was still human, when one of yours has just found a human mate himself.”

Everyone looked around at each other wildly, confused and alarmed.

You also shared this assessment. “I beg your bloody pardon, Eddy?” you asked as calmly as you could, glaring at the golden eyed man, the language earning a chuckle from Emmett.

He gestured to the tall vampire of the group. “Why don’t you share with everyone, Felix?” he challenged.

All eyes shifted to Felix, who was slightly growling and looking remarkably uncomfortable. You stared at him, holding your breath waiting for the answer.

“It’s true,” he admitted in a low voice that you could barely hear.

“What?” Jane hissed, her bright crimson eyes narrowing at the vampire twice her size.

He avoided her gaze, instead choosing to look at you. “I feel the mating pull towards her.”

A few hisses erupted within the clearing, along with a couple growls. A cold pair of hands grabbed your shoulders and pulled you back, with a glance you saw it was Carlisle who had a carefully contained look of worry on his face. Your head spun back to stare at Felix in shock, mouth slightly open.

“This is… unexpected,” Jane broke the growls and hissing with a bored voice. “We will have to consult with Aro for further course of action. But know this, Y/N,” she added, looking directly at you with a burning calm fury. “Gifted or not, you’re still a human who knows of our kind. You won’t stay human for long, you can count on that.”

You raised your head a little. Okay I may be freaking the fuck out right now but I won’t let her scare me. “So be it,” you began calmly, “but please, don’t try to intimidate me with petty threats, kid,”  you said the last word with a slight growl, which took you back a bit.

Jane stepped forward with the pure intent of teaching you some manners her way. The boy to her side and Felix put a hand on each of her shoulders, stopping her. “Let us continue with what we came here to do,” Felix reminded her, his red eyes darting from her angry face to your barely-contained fearful one. Did he just save my ass?

Jane smiled for a second, collecting herself before turning her attention to the Newborn Jasper was standing with. “You missed one,” she pointed out, the happy glint in her eyes disturbing you to no end.

Son of a bitch he did save my ass.

While the Cullens did try to reason with Jane and argue for the Newborn girl’s life, it was pointless. The Volturi members had made up their minds, and with that, Jane ordered Felix to dispose of her, stating that she wanted to “go home”.

You watched as he strode forward toward the poor girl, who was still recovering on the ground after Jane used her terrifying gifts on her. He yanked her up from the ground roughly, and you had to close your eyes when the screams and sounds of a vampire being torn apart began.

When they stopped, you opened your eyes and found Felix finishing disposing of the Newborn girl’s remains. When he was done, he met your horrified gaze with a look on his face you couldn’t quite place. The two of you stared at each other for a while, almost as if you were studying each other’s features closely An absent thought of oh no, he’s hot briefly crossed your mind.

You couldn’t tell how you were feeling - you’d just found out that the vampire you just watched decapitate a poor young girl was apparently your soulmate. How does anyone react to that?

“Felix,” Jane called out, an underlying warning in her voice.

With one last once-over of your face, he rejoined his group, and the Volturi disappeared into the treeline and out of sight. You let out a shaky, sobbing breath and fell to your knees. “What the hell just happened?”

[hoodoo12]

And So It Begins (1/?)

Thanks for all the nice notes about my Orcish writings. I’ve had a few questions about how it all started; here it is. 

SFW. Orc/human, mild violence this chapter. Aesthetic header by the always delightful, too sweet for this world @rixxy8173571m3w1p3! Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Orcs weren’t common in your tiny village, but you saw them occasionally passing by on the road. It’d be a war party of three or four or five, being loud and scaring the chickens and old women before walking on. Rare times they’d stop and drink all the mead Brond had put aside. Nine times out of ten they paid him in gold, so he didn’t complain too much about it.

The only Orc you saw on a more regular basis was never with a group. He never walked the road either; he came through the forest, carrying meat, furs, and leather to sell or trade.

You spent a considerable amount of time in the woods foraging and wondered where he lived. He never seemed to follow the same path twice, and despite his size he moved so stealthily through the underbrush that he didn’t leave much evidence of his passing. With his skills, it was no wonder he was a good hunter.

On a recent excursion into the forest, you hummed tunelessly to yourself as you collected the flowers your mother had sent you for. On your hands and knees, you picked the tiny blossoms and put them into your basket. These particular plants only grew where the sun broke through the canopy overhead, so you had to move from spot to spot to find enough. You also made sure to leave enough flowers at each clump so they could continue to propagate in the future.

Picking your head up, you looked to see where the next patch could be found. It was close enough by that you didn’t want to go through the effort of standing up just to crouch again, so you simply crawled to it. On your way, under a rotting log, you found a few pale, lavender spotted toadstools.

The toadstools themselves weren’t valuable, but they did herald the location of deeper tubers that had medicinal purpose for nausea, so you grinned to yourself and began digging. The loam of the forest floor was soft, and after only a few minutes you found your prize: dark brown tubers that looked like nothing important. Your mother would be pleased with them. Wiping your hair out of your face, you set them deep in your basket, under the blossoms you’d already collected.

Adjusting the basket and shrugging your bow back to a more comfortable spot across your shoulders, you continued to the next patch of flowers that had been your original goal.

There, the process of picking them was automatic. The birdsong that filled the forest was background noise, until suddenly, you realized it was gone. You picked your head up again, suddenly wary, when a loud grunt startled you.

Your first instinct was to duck and stay small. The grunt turned to a bellow, which made you think your decision was the right one, but then you could hear words.

“Fuckin’ no good dirty orc! Gonna be a good day to put you down like the animal you are!”

There was another bellow, followed by the unmistakable sounds of fighting: grunts of pain, weapons clashing, and men--another man, a man who wasn’t the first voice you heard--taunting and shouting encouragement to each other.

“Git ‘im! Git ‘im good!”

“Take that, tusk-face!”

The Orc they were fighting didn’t speak at all. The only noise you heard from the Orc was continued grunts and the occasional growl.

On your hands and knees, you scrambled behind the nearest tree trunk. You wanted no part in a fight. Was the Orc a bandit? Had the men been tracking the Orc, and finally found him? Would you have been attacked, since you hadn’t been paying much attention to your surroundings?

Despite a part of your brain screaming at you to stay still and keep hiding, you couldn’t help carefully peeking around the tree trunk. It wasn’t easy to see everything that was happening, due to the trees, but you caught glimpses of the fight. Two men, swinging swords, dancing forward and back, continuing to taunt the massive Orc caught between them. There was so much movement between the three of them it was hard to tell if any of them had been actually injured yet, or if the Orc had so far managed to hold his own against them.

Flanked, the Orc was trapped between the two men. If he tried to move towards one, the other was on him. If he tried to move backwards in an attempt to keep both of them in his sight, not only did they move with him but the trees hindered him. One of the men rushed forward, swinging his broadsword; the Orc barely had time to block with his mace in a clanging, metal-on-metal cacophony that hurt your ears.

The move was jarring enough to throw the man off balance. Before the Orc could press his advantage, however, he roared and arched his back in obvious pain, grabbing onto a tree to keep on his feet. An arrow hung loosely in his back, high on his shoulder. The Orc grabbed it and yanked it out. Blood flowed from the wound, making his arm red and slick.

Several things dawned on you as you got your first good look at the Orc: first, there was another man somewhere nearby with a bow, and second, you knew this Orc. It was the hunter who came into your village occasionally. He wasn’t a bandit.

The men were.

The Orc dropped to his knee with one hand scrabbling down the tree trunk he’d been holding. Your hands went to your mouth to cover your gasp. He looked beaten, his head hanging, his torso heaving with panting breath. The wound from the projectile wasn’t deep or fatal; the arrow must have been poisoned--

One of the swordsmen walked forward, hefting his broadsword to swing.

“Fuckin’ animal,” he spit, while his companion cried out,

“He’s faking!”

Before the first could process what his comrade had said, the Orc exploded upward, catching him with a large hand by his hide armor high on his chest. His grip and the position of the man’s arms gave him no opportunity to swing his sword. The Orc drove his head into the man’s and instantly the man became a ragdoll. He flopped bonelessly and the Orc dropped him, swinging his mace with a movement that could be described as casual.

The wet crunching noise as he planted it into the man’s skull made you flinch.

The other swordsman gave a wail of anger. The Orc spun to face him. He’d opened a small wound on his forehead when he’d headbutted the man, and blood flowed into his eye, but he ignored it. Snarling wordlessly, he rushed to meet the man who’d attacked him.

Faintly, you could hear a zipping noise and realized the person with a bow was still firing arrows. Because of the tree cover and the fact the Orc and swordsman were moving, none of the arrows met their mark, but if they did, it could be a decisive turn against the Orc in the fight. While he was preoccupied with the man before him with the sword, it wouldn’t take much for the bowsman to move around and get a solid shot on him.

Dragging your eyes away from the noisy, active fight still in front of you, you glanced around to try and locate the person with the bow. In a few moments, you were able to pinpoint about where the arrows seemed to originate from. The archer kept moving, but slowly.

The fight between Orc and man was louder, even if the man had stopped talking. There was the awful sound of metal striking metal, and grunts of exertion. It drew your attention back to it, and you watched the Orc use his superior reach to swing his mace low and shatter the man’s legs. Screaming, the man went down. Before the Orc could deliver a final blow, however, another arrow flew past his ear. He ducked.

More arrows came, and faster. The archer had stopped walking. Those projectiles were bound to hit their mark soon--

Without consciously realizing what your hands were doing, you’d slipped your own small bow off your back. You dug an arrow from the quiver you’d buried at the bottom of your basket, fitted it on the string, and, taking a deep breath, stepped to the side of the tree trunk that had been giving you cover. 

Praying that you weren’t wrong about where you’d last seen the archer, you pulled back the string and let your arrow loose.

A man’s voice cried out in sharp pain.

The arrows stopped.

You ducked behind the tree again, shaking, clutching your bow so hard your fingers hurt. You should get another arrow ready, you should find the small knife you carried to cut stronger plants--it wasn’t much, it wasn’t sharp, but it was better than nothing--you should have run away when you had the chance! You squeezed your eyes shut and wished you had the money to buy or the skill to make an invisibility potion. As neither of those were true, you stayed as still as possible, like a frightened rabbit.

The man the Orc took down was still crying in pain. Another crushing, wet sound brought his sobs to a halt. You heard the Orc push through the underbrush and further away, there was the same definitive sound; he must have made sure the archer was dead too. Then you heard him tromping back, coming closer, closer--

When you dared to open your eyes again, the Orc was glaring down at you. His face and upper arm were covered in blood. He was still breathing heavily from the fight, and his grip on his mace was solid. His nostrils flared, and you didn’t think it was from simply catching his breath. The head of the weapon he held dripped blood slowly, and for some reason, that caught your attention and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from it. It had to hurt to be hit by a mace. You hoped the pain would only be a second’s worth before you died.

With a huffing breath, the Orc relaxed an iota and wiped his free hand over his face to smear the blood from his eye.

“Thank you,” he said in a deep voice.

You jumped, and cautiously looked up.

“The archer had steel arrows. Do you want them? They’re higher quality than the iron one you used. He had a dagger too.”

It took a moment to wrap your head around what he was saying.

“Um, uh, yes, I suppose . . .”

The Orc looked down at you a moment longer. Blood still oozed from the wound on his head. With another huff, he turned and began walking away, back towards the dead men.

As he did, you snapped out of your stupor and scrambled up.

“Wait, wait!” you called after him.

He paused.

“You’re hurt,” you said, as if he didn’t know. “Was that arrow that hit you poisoned? Your head hasn’t stopped bleeding.”

“Head wounds bleed a long time,” he replied. “And no, the arrow wasn’t poisoned. It nicked me but it’s not too deep. It was a bad shot.”

“Can I . . .” you started. Like your hands readying your bow, you had no clue what your mouth meant to say. Then you steeled yourself to continue. “Can I help you? I saw you pull it out and make a bigger hole in your shoulder. It’ll be hard to clean it by yourself.”

The Orc gave you an appraising look. He looked over his shoulder and flexed it as if to test how injured he actually was. The movement caused fresh blood to stream from the injury again, and he grudgingly agreed.

You smiled, a little, at him. “I saw some comfrey growing. I’ll go get it. There’s a stream that way--I will meet you there.”

He grunted what sounded like an agreement and you hurried off to find the plant you’d passed by earlier. You hadn’t thought to collect it; it grew commonly enough that your mother had a good supply of it. The tinture she made would be most helpful, but you knew enough that a quick poultrice would be useful too. Quickly you found and collected the leaves you needed and rushed back.

The Orc was sitting near the stream. He was taking the time to wash his weapon instead of cleaning his wounds. His blood had started to dry and crust on his skin and his tunic, turning to a darker color as it did.

You went to his side and he startled, a deep growl vibrating in his throat while he brought his mace up. You yelped in surprise and held your hands out.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!” you babbled.

His eyes held yours but he relaxed. You noticed he didn’t release the mace even as he rested it on the ground.

Catching your breath, you told him that you needed to clean the wound on his shoulder, then you could pack it with comfrey. You had spied some lamb’s ear and collected it too; it would make a passable bandage . You held out all the plant material you’d collected for him to see, and with a hesitant nod, he agreed.

You scooped water from the stream and carefully let it drip over his shoulder. Even though the water was cold, he was stoic. Without a cloth to wipe him, took a bit of time to clean it properly.

You’d never been this close to an Orc before; to your surprise, what you’d been told wasn’t true. He didn’t smell like an animal, just sweat like any other man. The hair on the sides of his head had been shorn close; the hair he’d left long as a topknot had been woven into a thick plait that hung down his back. His skin was green, but not flat and uniform in color. You saw darker freckling and older wounds that had healed into paler scars on his arms. You wondered if the wound he’d given himself on his forehead would be a pale mark eventually, too. This arrow injury, because he yanked it out so roughly, was going to leave a puckered scar when it filled in.

Since you were attending his should and were slightly behind him, you could only see a bit of his face. His jaw was heavy and his tusks jutted out like a boar’s, but there was no mistaking it was humanoid too. His tongue was startling pink when he licked his lips.

You talked as you worked. He didn’t respond much, just huffs and wordless noises. You told him about foraging in the woods, how your mother worried but there was no one else to help her, that you did the best you could for the two of you--

“What of your father?” he asked, interrupting your talk.

You shrugged, even though he didn’t see it. “He’s dead. Been gone a long time, before I could really help out around the house. I can barely remember him. Neither my mother or father’s kin live nearby. Everyone moves to a larger village or town than stay in the village, so we’re on our own.”

He didn’t reply to that.

The wound was finally clean. It was jagged and the edges of his skin were white, but it continued to ooze slowly. That was a good sign, you told him. Quickly you chewed the comfrey leaves to mush and packed the hole with them, then used the soft lamb’s ears’ leaves to cover it. It would do until he could tend to it properly.

The Orc let you gently wash his face too, with a remaining lamb’s ear. You tried hard--and were successful, you thought--to not stare at his tusks. His eyes were dark and watched you intently.

The minor cut he’d opened on his forehead that finally stopped bleeding by the time you’d finished cleaning it.

Nursing care complete, you pressed a clump of unused comfrey leaves into his hand and told him to apply another poultice later, once the first had dried. Bandaging his shoulder properly would help it heal faster too.

He escorted you back passed the three dead men, to where you’d left your basket. Collecting it, you turned to pick your way back home. Something occurred to you, however, and you stopped. “I didn’t learn your name,” you said.

The Orc considered you a moment longer, then replied in a low voice tinged with pride. “I am Grar, of Clan Dushnikh. My Clan is prosperous and fierce and blessed by the hand of Malacath. Our stronghold lies to the south and west of here.”

His answer seemed rather ceremonious and formal. You smiled at the stiffness of it and tossed him your name and where you lived lightly, without the pomp, then left him to head home.

tbc . . .

[forthegothicheroine]

Kamigami no Asobi recap, episode 5: Yui, Fighter of Gods

I’m resuming my recaps, now that I’m thinking about dating games/anime anyway!  For those of you just joining me now, Kamigami no Asobi (which seems, from my investigation, to translate to “Mischief of the Gods” or “The Gods at Play”) is about Zeus abducting a teenage girl and forcing her to go to high school with a bunch of classical gods (whom he has also abducted with the help of Thoth.)  She’s been doing her best to make friends with all the grouchy deities and have tender moments with as many as possible, even though Balder and Apollo have somehow decided they’re dating her based on only a couple conversations.

As a reminder, the following are features in these recaps:

Ragnarok Clock: How much closer is each episode getting us towards the flash-forward to Ragnarok in the first episode?  Represented by the Watchmen clock with an extra snake hand.

Where is Odin? I feel like Odin should be here, but he’s not.  Thus, I guess each episode what he’s doing instead.

Team __: Which heavenly consort I think Yui should go for in this episode.

Does Thoth push Yui up against a wall? It’s a thing.

Ready now?  Good.

This is a Takeru episode, and I know very little about Japanese mythology, so I’m running off to wikipedia before this recap.  Turns out he’s more widely known as Susanoo-no-Mikoto, god of storms and the summer, which explains his tiny speedo in the beach episode.  He feuded with his sister, goddess of the sun, and was banished to the Earth where he had a series of heroic adventures.  In this show, he looks like green Naruto.

Anyway, green Naruto doesn’t want to join any after school clubs in this farce of a high school combined with an existential prison, but Apollo thinks he needs a good dose of school spirit.  Dionysus correctly points out that clubs are more fun than actual school- come to think of it, why isn’t Dionysus president of the drama club?  That should be his whole deal!  Anyway, moving on.

In the library, Thoth is doing what he loves best- pushing Yui up against a wall and demanding to know why she, a mortal shrine maiden, is not making a bunch of gods bow to her will.  He refers to “the bimbo” (Balder), “the idiot” (Apollo), “the gloomy one” (Hades), “the imbecile” (Tsukito), “the drunk” (Dionysus), and “the dunce and the beanpole” (one of which is Thor and one of which is Loki, but they’re both skinny so I’m not sure who he means by which insult.)  Come on, Thoth, not everyone can be the god of being brilliant.  You don’t have to condescend.

Takeru is practicing EPIC HERO SWORDFIGHTING in the forest with a stick when Yui finds him.  He engages her in some standard tsundere ‘you don’t actually care about me’ banter, but at least she finally tells him to stop calling her Weed.  Yui’s horrible Zeus-given ragdoll abomination tells her to keep trying because the more a guy hates her, the more exciting it will be when they finally get together!

Don’t take advice from ragdolls given to you by Zeus, people.

Bad advice aside, Takeru and Yui actually do bond when he finds out she can use a sword.  (It was one of the first shrine maiden things we saw her do back in the first episode, and she keeps periodically practicing throughout the show.)  Specifically, she’s practicing the art of drawing out her sword, which as I understand it is the key mechanic in the game Bushido Blade.  Plus the old guy in The Seven Samurai killed his sparring partner just by drawing his blade faster, so I believe it.  Again, all this seems much more useful for Ragnarok prepping than high school shenanagins.

Takeru agrees to join a club if Yui beats him in a duel, which is a very anime way to resolve things.  Yui agrees to hold an EPIC BATTLE against a LEGENDARY MYTHOLOGICAL SWORDSMAN to get him to join a SCHOOL CLUB and this is actually kind of awesome.  I can see why people label Yui as one of the best reverse harem genre protagonists; she’s not just a blank slate, she has her personality and her pride.  How many other reverse harem protagonists would duel a god to make him join a club?

He wins the first round because, again, legendary swordsman, but he’s also impressed that she didn’t run or show any signs of fear.  He demands that she train more in order to fight him, and what if this show just turned into Dragon Ball Z as of this episode?  It feels like a real possibility.

He runs her through some Rocky Balboa/Tonya Harding endurance and strength excercises as Hades watches jealously.  Too bad, Hades, you got your shippy episode already.  At least he’s not kidnap-prone in this adaptation.  It’s a cool scene, even if a lot of it is static shots, and if I had video editing softward I’d want to do an old school AMV of this scene set to I’ll Make a Man Out of You.

They even go running in the rain, leading to her slipping and pitching off a freaking cliff.  Takeru dives to save her Spiderman style, and it works out a lot better for Yui than it did for Gwen Stacy.

And then he has a flashback of his sister and explodes.  What?

Suddenly, Takeru is super buff and dressed like Conan!  It’s an improvement, even if his hair still makes him look like green Naruto.  He’s earned back the divine powers that Zeus and Thoth stole from him, now that he has learned to empathize with humans.  (Did I already mention that’s a weird moral for Zeus of all people to be teaching?  Because it is weird.)  Zeus is nothing if not inconsistent, however, and punishes Takeru for doing exactly what he was supposed to do.  He gets put in a floating energy ball and there’s a pun about him being “suspended.”

Zeus threatens to expel Takeru from the school-prison, which is...exactly what Takeru wanted at the beginning of the episode, so it’s not much of a punishment.  Loki is the only one who picks up on this, asking if he can also get out of this by flunking everything.  But no!  Those who are expelled get turned into eternal statues!  This is bizarre, but at least it leads to a great imaginary moment for Loki

And woah, are we calling the guy Zeus-san now?  What happened to Zeus-sama?  I’d be polite and deferential as all freaking get out around Zeus if I were Yui.

Yui and Takeru get an angsty scene where they both try to shoulder the blame for what happened.  Tsukito pops in to explain Takeru’s PTSD from having once seen a goddess fall off a cliff and then got unjustly blamed for it.  I don’t know this myth, but we are starting to set up the idea of explaining away the gods’ most heinous actions, which I’ll be able to talk about with (slightly) more authority when we get to The Great Cassandra Retcon.  But that isn’t for another couple episodes.

“Everyone always judges us based on the outside appearance”, laments the guy who looks like green Naruto.

Apparently Zeus didn’t actually know that the gods could break their shackles if they felt sufficient emotion, which seems like a pretty big thing to have overlooked.  Turns out Takeru having that flashback and exploding caused an earthquake and destroyed part of this pocket dimension, which I’ll grant is a big problem, but still not justification for punishing the guy for doing what he was supposed to be doing.  And did I mishear, or did Zeus just refer to himself as -sama?

Takeru tries to swallow his pride and apologize, but Yui (correctly) interrupts and says he has nothing to apologize for.  Right to Zeus and Thoth’s faces!  Wow!  Yui should be starring in the next God of War game!  She makes the same point I’ve been making, that learning to care about humans and feel their emotions is exactly what they’re all supposed to be doing.  The other teen gods rally around her as she yells at Zeus that he’s the one who needs to learn about humanity and control his emotions, and I think Yui is about to actually overthrow Olympus (Hades makes it clear she’d have his backup) when Zeus finally backs down.

For a Japanese show involving Greek and Norse gods, that was a very Abrahamic episode.

Ragnarok Clock:

Same as last time, as the Norse gods were pretty quiet this episode.

Where is Odin? Odin is on an artisinal mead-tasting tour of craft breweries during this episode.

Team __: Team Takeru, surprisingly.  That sword training montage was hot.

Does Thoth push Yui up against a wall? Yes, against a bookcase!

[crit1rael]

Aaaaand Again

1. Does your character have siblings or family members in their age group? Which one are they closest with?

Closest to their age group would be their older sister, Ed’hel, but they’re not close anymore. They were reasonably close - Ed’hel wasn’t around for long, but Rael quickly took to them because they were the only one close to their age around.

2. What is/was your character’s relationship with their mother like?

Rael had a very good relationship with their mother. Rael basically did what they were told when they were told - they were very obedient - but Rael also genuinely respected Faelen’s talents and what she was capable of.

3. What is/was your character’s relationship with their father like?

Similar to that of their relationship with Faelen. Merith was just as quiet, if not more so, than Rael, so it was frustrating to try and communicate at times, but they had a quiet understanding of one another.

4. Has your character ever witnessed something that fundamentally changed them? If so, does anyone else know?

Feltas. It was really bad all around. They hated everything about it and came out of it feeling older than they did, to the point that they immediately declared themselves an adult. The rest of the party experienced it with them.

5. On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets?

Left belt pouch: treats for Sai. Right belt pouch: components for Hail of Thorns and other magical arrows. Left pants pocket: some feathers they picked up. Right pants pocket: a small skull they found and intend to give to Fatal.

6. Does your character have recurring themes in their dreams?

Nothing prophetic, and they don’t generally remember their dreams. They don’t dream a whole lot at all - they meditate instead of sleeping.

7. Does your character have recurring themes in their nightmares?

See above.

8. Has your character ever fired a gun? If so, what was their first target?

Not yet, but soon!

9. Is your character’s current socioeconomic status different than it was when they were growing up?

Not really. They’re homeless, by choice, but they have a sum of money back home.

10. Does your character feel more comfortable with more clothing, or with less clothing?

They don’t care much either way. Clothing is functional, sometimes it’s a hindrance. Depends on the situation, but they’re not a prude about it.

11. In what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been?

The Shadowfell - this was partially (mostly?) due to Shadowfell sickness, but they solidly believed they were going to die.

12. In what situation was your character the most calm they’ve ever been?

Taking the final shot at the troll they fought in Feltas.

13. Is your character bothered by the sight of blood? If so, in what way?

No.

14. Does your character remember names or faces easier?

Definitely faces, mostly because if it’s not someone they care about, they also don’t care to remember their name.

15. Is your character preoccupied with money or material possession? Why or why not?

No. It just doesn’t really matter to them. As long as they can eat, fend for themselves, and survive without money, they’re fine without money. They would care more if it was more a requirement for day-to-day life - if they moved back home and restarted the farm, they’d be frugal.

16. Which does your character idealize most: happiness or success?

Success. You can’t measure happiness. Success is more fulfilling for them.

17. What was your character’s favorite toy as a child?

A little cat ragdoll - it was supposed to be a lynx, but it was badly sewn by Faelen. It was lumpy, and they loved it, because they couldn’t carry around an actual lynx.

18. Is your character more likely to admire wisdom, or ambition in others?

Both, depending on the situation. Evil ambition? Bad. They lean towards wisdom a bit more.

19. What is your character’s biggest relationship flaw? Has this flaw destroyed relationships for them before?

Blind trust. Their blind trust in Ed’hel actually helped her in hurting Rael’s family - Rael found her in the woods, thought she needed help, and convinced their family to take her in. Ed’hel was running away from an entity that was looking for her, and in her time with Rael’s family, she was slowly growing more powerful as a sorcerer. The entity was chasing her and it was its drawing closer that caused the blight on Rael’s family’s farm. Ed’hel was about to leave when the entity found her - she tried to reason with it for her own life, and traded Rael’s family to save herself. She is likely working for that entity now. Rael doesn’t know that it destroyed their relationship.

20. In what ways does your character compare themselves to others? Do they do this for the sake of self-validation, or self-criticism?

Self-criticism. They hate their lack of vocabulary, eloquence, and people skills, and seeing that in others frustrates them.

21. If something tragic or negative happens to your character, do they believe they may have caused or deserved it, or are they quick to blame others?

It depends. If it’s a social situation, they’re likely to blame the person who’s mad at them, but generally, when they fuck up, they’re aware of it.

22. What does your character like in other people?

Bluntness and honesty.

23. What does your character dislike in other people?

Holier-than-thou attitudes.

24. How quick is your character to trust someone else?

After the con artist incident - and a couple of other similar ones… in rapid succession… they trust no one and nothing immediately. It takes a long time.

25. How quick is your character to suspect someone else? Does this change if they are close with that person?

It definitely changes. They are suspicious of people in general. If they’re close, they give more benefit of the doubt.

26. How does your character behave around children?

Patient, to a point. They don’t know how to deal with children in distress, though. It freaks them out and they try to remove themselves from the situation.

27. How does your character normally deal with confrontation?

Aggression. They’ll try to avoid it, but if it’s not avoidable, they don’t really know another way. If others are depending on them - in a diplomatic situation, for example - they try to stay quiet because they know they might mutter something detrimental.

28. How quick or slow is your character to resort to physical violence in a confrontation?

If they’re by themselves and don’t have a group that is relying on their silence to stay alive, then they are very quick to resort to violence.

29. What did your character dream of being or doing as a child? Did that dream come true?

They assumed they would inherit the farm and expand it to have more animals - basically they wanted to warden the whole forest nearby.

30. What does your character find repulsive or disgusting?

Undead.

31. Describe a scenario in which your character feels most comfortable.

Tracking, hunting, survival activities, foraging, leading people through an area they recognize, navigating wilderness… they just like being in nature. There are probably better rangers in the world, but Rael is pleased with what they can do.

32. Describe a scenario in which your character feels most uncomfortable.

Fancy gala. They’re not good at diplomacy, tact, dressing up… none of it is their strong suit.

33. In the face of criticism, is your character defensive, self-deprecating, or willing to improve?

It depends on who’s giving the criticism and what it is about. Generally, defensive.

34. Is your character more likely to keep trying a solution/method that didn’t work the first time, or immediately move on to a different solution/method?

If it didn’t work in the same instance, e.g. shooting a bugbear because they’re resistant to damage, they would try it again just to make sure, then move on to a different solution.

35. How does your character behave around people they like?

If they like them in that they are attracted to them, they get stupid - try to impress them and normally fail, because they’re putting on a front. Around friends, they’re just more relaxed and joke around more. They feel more able to be themselves.

36. How does your character behave around people they dislike?

Blunt, aggressive, defiant.

37. Is your character more concerned with defending their honor, or protecting their status?

Defending their honor. They don’t really have any status. Even if they did, they would be more concerned with protecting their owner - deeds reflect who you are as a person.

38. Is your character more likely to remove a problem/threat, or remove themselves from a problem/threat?

Depends on the problem. If the problem is a social one, they remove themselves. If it’s a monster of a bad guy, they remove the problem.

39. Has your character ever been bitten by an animal? How were they affected (or unaffected)?

Yes, plenty, whether hunting and finishing off a kill or by Sai during normal handling. It never affected them mentally, and wounds heal. The only exception is the purple worm.

40. How does your character treat people in service jobs?

As well as they can. They try to tip well.

41. Does your character feel that they deserve to have what they want, whether it be material or abstract, or do they feel they must earn it first?

There’s no real “deserve” about it, but if they work towards something, they do feel they should have it.

42. Has your character ever had a parental figure who was not related to them?

No.

43. Has your character ever had a dependent figure who was not related to them?

Sai and Ravi.

44. How easy or difficult is it for your character to say “I love you?” Can they say it without meaning it?

They can’t say it without meaning it, and it’s very difficult. They’ve never said it to anyone except for their parents.

45. What does your character believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?

They become the grass, and the antelope eat the grass, and thus, we are all connected, in the great circle of life. It’s not something that scares them.

[ladypepperofdavenshire]

“I hope you realize that I’m still against everything about this.  I’m only here because you asked me to come.”

Mr. Haddock sat on the opposite side of the carriage, thrumming his fingers on the windowsill.  He looked at Isolde with those piercing amber eyes, returned his gaze to the bouncing landscape outside.

“Just be grateful I didn’t spoil your plans and tell your mother,” Isolde muttered.  Mr. Haddock huffed a sigh, causing a momentary foggy circle to appear on the pane.  They had come to something of a truce after Isolde went off to think the day Mr. Haddock told her his motives behind accepting Sir Drexel’s challenge.  Isolde dropped the subject and restrained from interfering on her end, and Mr. Haddock avoided anything having to do with the duel in conversation around her.  Evans had been brought into the secret, and had himself requested that he be Mr. Haddock’s Second in the fight.  He rode on the box with the driver, who had also been sworn to secrecy.  Isolde grew fidgety as the carriage turned into the woods. They were three towns away from Broadburn, headed in the direction of the Haddock’s hunting lodge, which lent some half-truth to Haddock’s lie to his mother. 

This was where Sir Drexel and Mr. Haddock had agreed upon as the staging grounds for their duel.   The wheels grated against dead leaves that littered the forest floor, shafts of golden autumnal sunlight peeking through the trees’ canopy.  Isolde’s nervousness intensified.  Mr. Haddock, on the other hand, seemed as calm as could be.  She didn’t really think he could be so cool about this whole ordeal.  Not when Sir Drexel was involved.  Her fear of Sir Drexel had turned to cold hate as events played out; only part of her reason for coming was because Mr. Haddock asked if she would be there.  The other reason was in hopes that he’d shoot Sir Drexel dead. Isolde heard echoing voices from outside of the carriage.  She espied the sandy head of Sir Drexel glinting in the light amidst a crowd of well-dressed men.  She made an angry noise, of which Mr. Haddock took notice.  Before he could say anything, the carriage lurched to a stop and Evans was at the door.

“We’re here, Sir.” Mr. Haddock jumped down from the carriage and barred Isolde’s way with his arm.             

“I’d prefer it if you remain inside the carriage.  This isn’t something a woman should see.”

Isolde frowned down at him.  After all the trust the two of them had built up, this was how he treated her!

“Why?  Do you think I’ll faint at the smallest hint of blood?” she shot back. “You do realize I’ve seen worse; you get used to that sort of thing when your father is a tanner.”             

“Yes, you’ve told me that a dozen times over, but I would prefer it if you stayed here,” Mr. Haddock replied, a tone of finality in his voice.  Isolde returned his glare with her own.

“If you insist,” she muttered, sinking back into her seat.             

“Thank you, Miss Marlowe,” Mr. Haddock said, and shut the door.   

                                                           *

Haddock straightened his jacket and together with Evans, strode over to the area where Sir Drexel and his followers were mingling. Sir Drexel wore the same smug look he had after slapping Haddock in the face with his glove.  He raised a thin eyebrow.             

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come, Haddock.”

“And I thought you might swiftly leave town again, Drexel,” Haddock returned in the same tone.  Sir Drexel’s false smile widened as he narrowed his eyes.

“Where’s Miss Marlowe?  Did that doxy leave you for another man too?” Haddock held his fists in check.  You’ll get a chance to shoot him in a few minutes anyways.

“Where’s the pistols?” he asked instead. Sir Drexel snapped his fingers and a meek little man in indigo livery scuttled over with a wooden box.  The man opened the lid, revealing twin flintlock pistols resting on a velvet cushion.  Haddock eyed them suspiciously.  Sir Drexel barked a laugh.

“If you’re that mistrusting, why don’t you choose your weapon first, eh?”

“Fair enough,” Haddock said, and lifted the pistol on Sir Drexel’s side, all the while watching Sir Drexel’s face to see if he would betray any of his schemes.  Sir Drexel’s sneer didn’t waver.  He fished the other pistol out of the box and the liveried man snapped the lid shut and retreated from whence he came.  Haddock handed his pistol over to Evans, who looked at it all over.  He handed it back with a curt nod.  Nothing irregular.  When Haddock looked back up, another man had appeared at Sir Drexel’s side.  He was dark-haired and rail-thin with deeply-pitted eyes that made Haddock think “criminal.”             

“This is my Second, Vespa.  He and your butler will decide how this duel should end.”

Haddock already discussed with Evans that he didn’t plan on holding back with Sir Drexel, so there was no need for this duel to be settled with first blood.  Vespa held his hands folded in front of him, rubbing a large ring on his finger while studying Evans.             

“How do you wish this fight to proceed, Signore?” the man asked.  His voice was low and smooth.  “Do the combatants cease after drawing first blood, when one falls, or to the death?”

Evans hesitated, seeming as if he was mulling the options over.  He looked at Haddock with a slight questioning expression in his eyes, but Haddock kept his eyes fixed on Sir Drexel.             

“To the death,” Evans said.

“So be it,” Vespa said.  He said something in Italian to Sir Drexel, who laughed.  Sir Drexel shed his coat and handed it to the thin man, who left to join the rest of the entourage.  Haddock removed his coat as well and handed it to an expectant Evans. Evans took the coat, face void of emotion.  He turned to leave, and with his back at Sir Drexel, gripped Haddock’s shoulder.             

“Good luck, Sir,” he said and walked off to the side.  Haddock held the gun with both hands, feeling its weight. He couldn’t tell if anything was off about it either.              “Why the audience?”

“I promised my friends something exciting when I was last in London.  I thought this would be more than satisfactory for them.”             

Haddock’s extremities went cold.  So this had been planned. Sir Drexel drew a few steps closer so that they were face to face.  He pitched his voice low.

“I’ve been looking forward to this, Haddock.  You better hope that your aim is as good as your handiness with your claws.”             

He traced a long, crooked scar over the bridge of his nose.  Haddock forced down the thing inside of him that wanted to fight Sir Drexel then and there with fists and nails.

“Ten paces,” he barked.  Sir Drexel shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re only prolonging the inevitable.”

They both turned back to back.

“When this is over, I’m reclaiming what you stole from me,” the leering devil said under his breath.             

“One,” Haddock said, taking a step.  Sir Drexel followed suit. “…Two…three…four…five…six…seven…eight…nine…ten!”

Two shots split the serenity of the forest.  Sir Drexel reeled backwards as blood sprayed from his shoulder and spattered over the dead leaves on the ground and his Second, a terrific howl erupting from his mouth.  Haddock also jerked backwards.  Something hot and burning had sunk itself into his chest.  He exhaled deeply as the pain increased tenfold and let the pistol drop from his fingers.  He felt warm, wetness blossoming from his chest.  Haddock coughed and crumpled backwards like a ragdoll.  The wound didn’t hurt so much as the bullet, which felt like a hot poker had been rammed through his ribcage.  He stared up at the autumn canopy as he heard Evans running up to him, trampling dry leaves and sticks.

Haddock grit his teeth, knowing he shouldn’t have left the duty of bringing the dueling pistols to Sir Drexel. It had been a silver bullet loaded in the other’s gun.  Haddock had only experienced this kind of pain before, when a savvy huntsman who had heard rumors of a werewolf in Broadurn’s parts had shot him in the arm while Haddock had been galloping across the moors during a full moon.  He coughed and tasted metallic blood.  Evans skidded to a halt on his left while Miss Marlowe sank down beside him on his right.  Hadn’t he told her to stay in the carriage?  She never listened.  He tried to reprimand her but choked on blood.  Evans was methodical as he assessed Haddock’s injury, ripping open his master’s vest and shirt, jaw tight.  Miss Marlowe’s face was blanched as she watched Evans at work.

“Will he be all righ—?”

“Yes, if I can stop the bleeding and get that piece of metal out of him,” Evans replied coolly.  He applied pressure to the wound.

“Call the carriage over, Miss Marlowe. We need to get Master Haddock to the hunting lodge where I can work.”             

Miss Marlowe left Haddock’s field of vision, swift crunching footsteps headed in the carriage’s direction.               

“If you don’t mind me speaking candidly, Sir,” Evans said quietly, “You were damn fool naïve to trust Sir Drexel.  This bullet is silver.”

“So was his,” Haddock coughed. Evans’ eyebrows jumped up and he looked up.  Raised voices and crackling underbrush were coming from Sir Drexel’s side as the wounded man continued to groan.  Haddock stiffly twisted his head to see how the other combatant was faring.  Sir Drexel was kneeling on the ground, face contorted in pain as he clutched a blood-soaked arm while Vespa and another man from his entourage gathered him up and deposited him in one of the party’s carriages.  Vespa directed his face at Haddock and Evans, blinked his dark eyes, and mounted the carriage.  The party began to leave in droves.              “Cowards!” Evans hissed.  The rumble of Haddock’s carriage sounded even louder with his ear mashed against the ground.             

“Evans.”

“Yes, Sir?”             

“Take Miss Marlowe back to her home after—”

Bloody saliva filled the back of his throat and he had to spit.             

“Take her home after—”

“Yes, Sir.” The worry on Evans’s face was mingled with understanding.  Haddock closed his eyes as his body gave a convulsive shudder.  The driver leapt to the ground and helped Evans carry Haddock into the carriage.

Haddock’s impressions of the carriage ride to the lodge were fragmentary.  Evans’s face cast in deep shadows while the vehicle bounded through the woods, the man’s white sleeves rolled up as his master’s fresh blood stained his hands and arms.  Horses’ labored breathing.  Speckled sunlight dancing across the windowpane.  Thundering of the wheels.  Miss Marlowe’s pale hands holding his head in her lap as she whispered a repeated prayer.  Blackness.

[iwritewithanaxe]

The Fire Hunt, Volume One, Chapter 2

A light arrived suddenly, accompanied by heat. The demon and the druid were the first to awake, at the same time. For a second, they would have thought it was dawn, but they remembered that, in that enchanted forest, night was permanent.

             —Wake up now!! Everyone!! —shouted the demon with inhuman voice, honoring his nickname.

 The druid threw a roar, leaping at the enemy as his arms became covered in fur and claws, his face grew longer and filled with fangs, and antlers grew over his head.

             —What’s happening? —Emer asked, quickly standing up and getting her one-handed halberd.

             —Is it the French ones? —the bard said almost at the same time, unsheathing his two handed sword.

             —A demon —said Leofsige—, one larger and uglier than myself and Cuno combined.

             —How many times will you repeat that joke? —the dragonslayer asked, charging with his imposing spear against the enemy.

             —If he is like my friend the bard at all, until the day he dies —said the hunter, looking for an uncovered flank on the demon, saber in his right hand and machete in the left.

             —It seems that’s not very far from us! —shouted Leofsige, frantically throwing blows with axe and claws, as his opponent lifted him off the ground with one hand.

 It was an extremely tall demon, even though it didn’t have any legs, with arms as long and thick as the trunks around it. Its face was a malformed mass of bone with nine holes on it, each a different size, an inflated eye hanging from every one of them. Its hands were made of three tentacle like fingers, and were large enough and strong to, with only one, holding Leofsige by his torso and handle him like a ragdoll.

             —Is he not also a demon? —the bard asked, striking a thrust. The wound he opened on the enemy spat sparks and embers.

             —He has the blood of one —started the huntress—, but he’s human —the cuts and stabs from her halberd barely had an effect—, only his right hand…

             —It’s a memory from my ancestors! —the man interrupted, grasping firmly at one of the tentacles while hitting it with his axe, without much result.

             —Everyone with a bow get away!! —roared the ransacker. With her left hand, gripping her shield firmly, she held three of her javelins. The fourth was in her right hand, being thrown. It hit the face of the demon, making it release Leofsige.

 The two hunters and the bard heeded. The woman ran to the enemy, throwing a second javelin before raising her morning star. The druid joined her immediately, dropping from the back of the demon. Both of them faced it now, drawing it attention to them.

              —Those javelins are working! —said another inhuman scream from Leofsige, while he stood back up—. Shoot at it!

             —Aren’t you accustomed to fighting together? —the bard wanted to know, releasing quickly one arrow after the other.

             —We are —said the dragonslayer, going around the demon, walking a few meters away from the druid and the ransacker—, being four persons —right after he finished talking, he pierced through the demon’s torso from one side to the other.

             —Makes sense —murmured the hunter, releasing his first arrow in the battle. The projectile entered one of the nine eyes, and let out its tip from another.

             —You seem to be quite experienced at that —said Leofsige, throwing one of his daggers while unsheathing another.

 Even with innumerable open wounds, from which fire sprang, and with several projectiles stuck in it, the demon remained immovable. Its huge hands sought the druid, the ransacker and the dragonslayer, but didn’t reach them. Cunobelinos, in his bestial form, moved with too much agility, jumping against the opponent and backing away, leaving ferocious wounds. The ransacker diverted every blow with her shield and mace, turning every move into an attack of her own, though the blunt impacts didn’t seem to affect the demon. The dragonslayer moved slowly, looking for the right moment to attack with his heavy spear. He didn’t get to put his armor on, but he didn’t care, his great kite shield was enough defense.

             —That is right —the hunter answered quietly, taking precise and silent steps, aiming a second shot.

             —That might be a good story to tell —said the bard, stopping the path of his hand to his quiver—. My arrows were not doing much anyway —then he took his lute.

             —Are you planning on singing? —the demon asked, throwing his fourth and last dagger.

             —I will only tell a story —answered the man, beginning to play—. A story about two young men, born in the cold steppes of the north.

 A second arrow pierced through the head of the enormous demon, and Ellanher’s spear managed to cut off two tentacles from its left hand.

             —They had known each other for a while, and shared travels and drinks for a while, when they met a woman. She was beautiful as the snowy mountains and the aurora and the sea in summer. Beautiful as only she could be.

 A roar from the druid mixed in with the instrument’s notes, and was followed by a screech from the monster when the bear claws ripped through him, coming out of its back through embers and fire. “It’s finally showing pain” the huntress thought.

             —In a way we still cannot understand, we ended up at her house. In a way we perfectly understand, we ended up pretty drunk. We first thought it was because of that that, to us, the house was rising.

 A second screech filled the clearing and beyond, frightening away all the birds in a kilometer around, when Leofsige’s axe flew and stuck at the unnatural being’s neck. The flutters echoed through the trunk, joining the roars of both the druid and the ransacker, the myriad of metal sounds, and the soft music of the lute.

             —It seemed to be too late when we realized it was not only our drunkenness, the house was indeed rising. And now the woman looked quite less beautiful, and then much less beautiful, and then anything but… you understand.

             —Quite well —said Leofsige, walking some meters away from the battle—. Hey Cuno, some help?

 First, he just got a roar.

             —Now —then said the druid, before roaring again. His companion ran, took two steps over him, and jumped from his back, throwing a vigorous slash with his right hand.  Not only did he leave a long cut on the opponent’s head, but he also recovered his axe.

             —The two young men would have jumped out of the house, would have thrown themselves through a window, would have dug a hole on the wooden flooring —the bard continued—, but nothing was possible. The mother of all spells, by charm, laugh and gaze, had paralyzed them. Soon, they would become her food.

             —Press the advantage! —shouted the huntress, resting an arrow on her bow.

 The druid and the ransacker both jumped at the enemy, while the dragonslayer charged with his spear. The demon was stuck with claws and axe to the monster’s neck, and from there he moved to the ground, holding on tightly. A third shot from the hunter hit the creature’s head, and then Emer released her arrow. She hit right behind the one from the young shooter, pushing it until both projectiles had abandoned the skull. The worst screech of all echoed through the trees.

             —A scream interrupted the scene. The scream of a beast, we thought. Of a completely primitive beast, if you ask me. “Found you!” said this such animal. We heard a blow and felt the whole house tremble, and saw also the woman tremble. Then came a second blow, and that was enough. Let me tell you, fight as one is falling, from several meters up high, inside a little wooden house, against a bloodthirsty sorceress, with no other help than a friend at one’s side… any pair of young, handsome Slav men would learn to fight in union.

 The last charge of the antlers and the spear, the last blow from the mace and the halberd, one last arrow and one last slash, and one last note from the lute.

 The demon finally fell, its body turning to ash, the fire inside it, extinguishing.

             —I hope that helped —the bard said, putting his instrument away.

             —As much as always —answered the hunter, gathering his arrows from the remains.

             —How did you learn to do that? —asked the dragonslayer, helping the huntress and demon to retrieve their projectiles.

             —Play the lute? —the bard wanted to know, joining them all at the task.

             —No… well, yes, but no… to play for the battle.

             —Truth is, I do not even know. I think it is not something that I can do, but something that the music and the battle do together… Now come close if you are wounded.

 The demon was the most hurt, though the druid and the ransacker were not left much behind. While Emer, Cunobelinos and his friend tended minor wounds, with herbs and bandages, the bard closed cuts and joined bones with nothing but concentration.

             —I didn’t even notice everything that vermin did to me —said Leofsige, seeing all the wounds the bard was healing on him.

             —That capacity you have of dismissing it, surely, you owe it to your vermin blood —the huntress told him, smiling. He just looked at her, trying to look serious, and failing.

             —You know something? —said the demon to the healer—. While here I work hard to make good comments, she always has one better for me, waiting. I’m sure she plans them all night.

             —Don’t need to, you always make it quite easy —said the huntress, calmly.

             —You see? —continued Leofsige. The bard laughed while finishing the healing, and right away the rest did the same.

 A few seconds later, they had tended every wound.

             —I only have one question —the dragonslayer said suddenly, cleaning some food from his mouth wish his cape. They had managed to hunt a boar, a few hours after the fight, and also had several berries and seeds the druid had gathered.

             —What is it? —the hunter inquired.

             —Who was that beast?

             —Eh?

             —In the story, the song, during the fight —clarified Ellanher, with a piece of meat in his mouth.

             —Oh right, that beast —remembered, smiling, the bard, while the hunter began laughing—. Well, it was a beast with the body and looks of a man.

             —He was not taller than us, but had a form like that of this druid here, and also similar hair and beard, though with more braids. He fought like a Celt champion of ancient times, or like a Viking berserker, and roared the same way.

             —When we left the crumbled house —started the bard, again taking his lute and pulling some notes from it—, there he was, battle axe in one hand and round shield in the other. It turns out, the house had enormous chicken legs, and this beast had felled them with little effort.

             —He said he had been looking for that sorceress and her walking house for days. Then he said that, as his mission was accomplished and he had nothing else to do, he would go for some beer.

             —I imagined you both joined immediately —the demon commented.

             —Of course —said the hunter right away.

             —That day I learned that one has not really drank until one drinks with a barbarian —the bard added.

             —Tell us about that —said Emer, looking at the druid.

             —I learned that with her —commented the enormous man, pointing at the ransacker.

             —You two would get along with that guardian, for sure —continued the bard, looking at the giant and his friend.

             —Guardian? —the dragonslayer asked, focused.

             —After a couple days walking and drinking with us, the beast said he had to go to the forest he was looking after. Did not tell us what he was looking after, maybe it was the forest itself, maybe something else, who knows —answered the hunter.

             —I thought he would have joined our traveling —added the bard.

             —Without a doubt, it would have been interesting to cross the three together —Emer said, looking at her companions—. I know these three are.

             —By the way —spoke again the hunter, a little more serious than before—, are you, by any chance, being followed by demons such as the one that attacked us?

             —They are all over Europe —said the dragonslayer.

             —And beyond —Emer added somberly.

             —But it is true they have something against us —answered Leofsige—. You know why we call her huntress? Because she hunts demons.

             —And yet she is accompanied by a demon —commented the ransacker, rekindling the flames of the campfire.

             —We should not be surprised at how weird this all is —began the hunter, thoughtful—, we are here, two Slavs, a giant, a demon huntress, a demon, an arsonist ransacker, and a dragonslayer, in an enchanted forest, in a clearing where stars always shine.

             —And eating well —added Leofsige, grabbing a third piece of meat.

             —It’s good company —continued the huntress.

             —Best I have had —concluded the ransacker.

             —… I think those seeds had… something weird —commented the dragonslayer, just before falling asleep, wrapped in his cape. Only then, the others noticed the demon was also sleeping, with some boar bones over him.

             —… Cuno… —Emer started, but before she could continue, the Druid was gesturing he had no idea what had happened.

 None of them realized, but for the hours to come, they all slept better than ever before.

 On the other side of the canopy, the stars shone in the night sky, while only a scant light passed through the leaves of the enchanted forest.

 End of Chapter 2

[nezzfiction]

STRQ Team Chapter 3 - Becoming The Hunted

Series Synopsis: This is not the fairy tale of hopes and dreams. This is a tale of legacies, of predecessors. Of those that came before, who fought and offered their strength to those who would come after. Before Team RWBY, there was STRQ Team. Summer Rose, Taiyang Xiao Long, Raven Branwen, and Qrow Branwen. Through the actions of these four special individuals, some of noble cause and some borne of infamy, the gears of fate will be set in motion for the World of Remnant. And the future as a whole.

Links to read the series: Ao3 or FF.net

Or hit the jump below:

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Becoming the Hunted

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Great.

Now, we can die together.

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From a nearby cliff, the Vice Headmaster of Beacon watched the entrance test commence.

Though she had initially taken the spot so she could overlook the Emerald Forest, the actual exam hadn’t really begun due to one simple fact. The students who were supposed to be hunting their potential Mentors in the woods, had not even entered the woods yet. They weren’t given the chance, because of the massacre currently underway at the starting line.

“That man loves to do things his own way…” Caliburn chuckled. “It does weed out the really weak ones, I have to say.”

The Professor looked on, as her colleague acted in complete opposition to his assigned role as “prey”.

Athos Bleu spun wildly, decimating multiple students at a time. The great musket, the size of a polearm, he wielded one-handed like it was a simple whacking stick. There was a strange blend of grace, but also a berserk quality, to his movement. And while he continued to blast through his opponents with a finessing power, he casually took sips from the wine barrel in his right hand.

Once or twice, the students tried to surround him. They shouted to one another, trying to combine forces. Only before a single wave of Athos’s rifle sent them all ragdolling through the sky.

“Ah,” Professor Caliburn squinted. “The smarter ones are finally using the other students as decoys to run into the forest. Can’t say it’s the most honorable thing, but as they say—run away, find honor another day.”

She watched more and more students trickle into the woods, looking more like deserters than hunters. But there was no helping it, she supposed. Trying to “hunt” Athos was tantamount to suicide. Better to test their luck catching the other professors.

“Looks like another year goes by without Athos taking any apprentices.”

Caliburn was about to divert her attention to the forest, when she spotted something peculiar still near the starting grounds.

“Huh. It’s that cheeky brat from before…”

…

“—So, you done weeding out all the lambs?”

Before Athos, a swordswoman and her brother got up from sitting on the grass. Apparently, they had been waiting for the field to be cleared, before making their move.

“You’re either very dumb or very unlucky to have stayed behind,” Athos commented. “Probably both.”

“You’ll regret it, if you take us lightly~♪” Raven smiled.

The Professor stared hard at the twins for a moment.

“…Seems more like you’re the ones making light of me. I can see you have a violent streak in you. But you’re not stupid, despite everything. Mind explaining why you believe this was a stroke of genius on your part?”

“Three things,” Raven held up her fingers. “One, I think if we take you down, we basically prove that we don’t need to go to this stupid school.” She curled her ring finger down. “Two, or we just kick up too much trouble to be taken on here or anywhere.” She curled down her trigger finger, only leaving the middle up, as a rude gesture.

“Peh,” Athos smirked. “Big words, girl. If you wanted out so badly, you could’ve just stayed still and let me knock you out.”

“Which brings me to number three. I don’t lie down for anyone.”

“…You’ve got spunk, I’ll give you that.”

“…”

“Are we ready, then?”

“……Wait.”

“What?”

At that moment, Raven’s eye’s glinted with a different nature. Something sharp and deadly lingered in her gaze.

“Who are you, anyway?” she asked.

“Athos Bleu,” the Professor replied shortly.

“Are you the best Huntsman here?”

“Hmmm,” Athos scratched his bristly beard in thought. “I wouldn’t say the best by a long shot.”

Just then, the Professor’s form disappeared. When his figure became visible again, the sword of his bayonet collided hard with Raven’s drawn katana. The force of their locked blades sent whistling gales through their surroundings.

“……But I’m pretty sure I’m the strongest.”

Matching Athos’s bloodthirsty grin, Raven brandished her own sense of thrill.

“I guess, there’s actually one more reason I stayed here, then!”

“Oh, yes? And, what would that be, little bird?”

“My warrior spirit beckons me to fight you!”

Their two blades separated, and a blinding trade of attacks followed. Every swing of Raven’s sword was met with another one from Athos. The sounds of crashing pressures continuously tore at the atmosphere. Every collision, resulting in its own pocket calamity.

Raven’s instincts worked at a blistering pace. Each spike of intuition sent synapses fire directly to her sword hand. Her Semblance revealed the fatal flaws in Athos in blaring scars, before immediately disappearing. Her opponent was unlike anything she had ever seen. And it brought her a mad kind of joy.

My Way is the Way of Blades.

My Path is the Path of Warriors.

My Will is the Will of the Strong.

She chanted inwardly, as conscious thought dissipated into purest action.

If the Devil appears, cut them down.

If the Buddha appears, cut them down.

Her cognition of time blurred into obscurity. Faster or slower no longer existed, rather everything blended into a single moment. Life and death were no longer separate concepts, but a weave of fibers constructing her every muscle.

I am the Blade of Destruction.

My Blood Sings the Song of War.

Raven’s sword moved faster than she had ever moved it. The Destiny of meeting such a strong opponent drove her swordsmanship to greater heights. A private emotion surfaced for the one called Athos.

We were meant to meet.

But at the same time, we never should have met.

I feel that in my bones.

The two continued to clash countless times. A strange resonation between two souls locked in mortal strife. Like fates tied their swords together with a common thread, drawing them together again and again.

The Soul is Fury.

The Heart is Fury.

Raven continued to let her consciousness slip into the draw of her katana.

I am the Death in All Things.

I am Destiny.

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X  X X  X  X

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Qrow couldn’t believe what he was witnessing.

Athos was probably the strongest fighter he’d ever seen in terms of pure strength. Which made it even more surreal to see Raven match him blow for blow. It was like watching two deities contesting through the use of their mortal avatars.

Raven had asked him to stay out of their duel ahead of time. His sister liked to challenge strong opponents one on one. She said it was to hone her warrior spirit, but Qrow never really bought into that reason…

That is, until this very moment.

He watched Raven attain a swordsmanship that bordered otherworldly.

And just as suddenly, Qrow saw his sister wince. Briefly, but surely, her constitution wavered. An unmistakable break in her concentration appeared.

…

You’re not bad, girl.

Athos couldn’t help but be impressed by Raven.

A shame you’re not used to fighting like this.

In response to Raven’s swift and precise slashes, Athos leaned into the brute force of his attacks. Pure physicality combined with his lengthy combat experience was winning out the contest of wills. And he could sense the desperation growing in his opponent’s outlook.

In another time, I would’ve gladly taken you on as an apprentice…

He sighed inwardly.

Damn.

Booze is getting to me, if I thought that.

Athos drew a slash from a haphazard angle, causing Raven to put all her strength into blocking it. The resulting shockwave cut condensed Aura through the earth and parted the clouds above them.

He had ruined Raven’s train of focus by forcing an abrupt pause to their duel. Athos observed as more conscious thought returned to his opponent’s psyche. Fatigue wearing her down, as adrenaline faded away.

“NO!”

Raven’s Aura flared once more, understanding exactly what Athos was trying to do. Sheer will was the only thing keeping her from falling.

“You have my respect, young Branwen. I’ll answer you in kind. One warrior to another.”

Athos let go of the wine barrel he was holding, and with both hands, grasped his rifle. He breathed renewed life into his posture. Aura overflowed, as he pressed harder into Raven’s guard, but still, she did not break.

“…Death or Defeat,” he muttered solemnly. “Which do you prefer?”

Raven only answered back with the same challenging grin their duel started with.

“They are both one and the same!”

“Well said!”

Athos drew back his rifle overhead. He pulled the trigger, and the downward swing exploded with all the force he could muster.

“—Whew! That was waaayyyy too close!” a young girl exasperated.

“—Are you alright?” asked a concerned young boy.

“—Hey, sis!” Qrow shouted.

Before Athos could deal the final blow, three figures locked themselves to his musket. Summer’s chakrams looped around it from his left. Qrow’s scythe hooked it from his right. And clasping the blade of his bayonet with his barehands underneath, was Taiyang.

Raven stared at the three, not sure whether she was more surprised, angry, or ashamed.

“““RAVEN!””” the three shouted simultaneously, prompting her to move.

“Damn it!”

Her sword pierced the empty space between their bodies, right for Athos’s neck. But a roaring whirlwind sent them all flying up into the air. The Professor shook off the four with a single swing.

As the four reached the peak of their ascent and held there, Athos appeared just above.

Thunder cracked, as the Professor spiked them down into the dirt.

*Cough, cough.* “—You guys still alive?” Qrow called out.

“—Not for long!” Taiyang also coughed. “Are we really going to keep fighting this guy?”

“—We don’t have a choice. Incoming!” Summer warned.

As soon as his big toe touched the ground, Athos dashed towards them with a furious speed.

“Uh, you! You’re Taiyang from the year above, right?!”

“Yeah!”

“Okay! I’m Summer.”

“—Is this the time?!” Qrow shouted.

“Tai, take care of Raven! Me and Qrow will keep him off you!”

“Alright?!” Taiyang acknowledged with a panic.

Does she know what my Semblance does?

He went to where Raven fell. The girl was close to losing consciousness, and he could sense her Aura fading.

Taiyang ripped off his oversized sleeves to reveal a long strip of tattoos surfacing along his arms. He set his palms across Raven’s abdomen, channeling new vitality into the girl. He watched the same tattoos trace the girl’s skin, confirming he was replenishing her Aura and health with his own.

…

“Do you think you can hold him, for like, a second?!” Summer asked.

“Are you kidding me?!” Qrow cried. “I think he’s about to run right through us!”

“Kay, I believe in you!”

“Wha? Damn it!!!”

Qrow took his position at the front with a defensive stance. Like trying to stop a wild charging beast, he held his scythe horizontally across. The impact of taking Athos’s blow sent his feet digging tracks into the dirt. The young man was only barely able to withstand it.

“Hm. Not as strong as your sister, but you have guts,” Athos complimented. Then, sent a vicious steel-soled boot to the younger Branwen’s stomach.

Qrow catapulted across the field, skipping off the ground, before finally resting in a crater.

Athos was about to pursue, when he felt an eeriness in his surroundings. A ringing of chimes resonated all around him. The white hooded form of Summer’s danced in his perimeter, fading in and out, like some haunted apparition.

Leaning on his intuition, Athos swung his musket where he thought her next position would be.

Summer’s chakrams spun like buzzsaws. The rose and vines decorating her round blades, gave the impression the Professor was fighting rings of bramble. Each time their weapons clashed, Athos felt his movements slow.

Something in Summer’s Semblance warped the Professor’s perception. When he realized what was happening, it was too late. Every time his rifle made contact with Summer’s chakrams, a thorny chain latched his weapon to the ground. Not only his weapon, but almost as if waking from a dream, the recognition of his limbs being bound was taken to effect.

“Tai! Qrow!” Summer called out.

Taiyang stopped his treatment of Raven, and peeled off for the immobilized target. Likewise, Qrow shook off the damage, before taking off towards the Professor like an angry bird in flight.

I see, so her Semblance is that far developed.

Athos measured his situation with a calm mindset.

She can tap into the Never Realm to such an extent.

Then, the best way to fight through this is…

As his three opponents drew close, the Huntsman dropped his rifle. Then, with a sped-up motion, drew multiple matchlock pistols from under his cape. Three rounds fired rapid succession, so close within each other, they almost sounded like they were shot at the same time.

Three separate guns fell, each fired once. At the same time, two bodies tumbled across the ground.

That’s one less than I expected.

Taiyang continued to bolt towards Athos. The bullet aimed for his head was caught in the palm of his hand. He channeled the energy and impact of the round through his Semblance. His hair blazed bright, as his hat flew off in the middle of his dash. More tattoos printed across his skin.

Taiyang threw a flurry of palm strikes once he was within range. But to his surprise, Athos reflected his combo with deft dexterity—grabbing his wrist on the last thrust.

Hm. Should have realized Summer’s Semblance lessened.

An easy mistake to make.

But an amateur mistake nonetheless.

Athos stepped on the bayonet of his rifle, making its butt-end pop up off the ground.

You’re lucky it wasn’t the other end instead.

Taiyang felt immeasurable pain shoot through his groin, when the rifle stock struck him between the legs. His body locked up and he timbered flat onto the ground. The boy couldn’t even defend himself as a callous fist struck him, like being caught between a hammer and anvil.

And then, there were three.

Athos tipped the point of his hat, before turning around.

“RAHHHH!!!” Qrow roared. His scythe tilling the ground, as he ran.

Once the boy was within a certain distance, he slashed his blade up to spray his opponent with dirt and rock. But, as if taking no mind to it, the muzzle of a musket extended to him. Through the tidal wave of earth, the Huntsman’s aim never wavered, nor did its barrel.

A great bang rolled over the hills and through the Emerald Forest.

Hm. The least talented of the four.

A lot of heart, but not much else…

…Reminds me too much of D’artagnan.

Athos cursed himself deeply, before returning to the matter at hand.

Now, for the other two.

He blinked once, and found Raven assaulting him from the front, Summer attacking at his back.

Won’t work this time.

Hidden behind his cape, Summer couldn’t see the stock of Athos’s rifle shove towards her. A trace of Aura made the blunt force that much more impactful, as she was clocked straight in the face.

And, you. You’re barely even standing.

Athos grabbed the slashing katana barehanded, right before it made contact with his neck. Raven had seen the use of Aura Skill countless times in Vacuo. The Professor’s proficiency ranked with some of the best.

Crap! she cursed herself. Not enough to take you down, huh.

Raven punched her katana’s hilt to break the blade loose from Athos’s handle. Once free, she ducked around the Professor’s rifle swing to scoop Summer off the ground.

“Hey! Tell me you’re not out cold!” she yelled.

“…Nooo,” Summer groaned. “But I’m definitely hearing stars~”

“You don’t hear stars. You see—Never mind.”

Raven continued to brace Summer’s shoulders, and together, they supported each other’s weight.

“Can you do that thing from before?” Raven asked.

“What thing?”

“The thing, when you took my pipe! Back when we first met!”

“Ugh…! Yeah. Maybe. Not exactly.”

“Okay, that was two answers too many! Which is it?!”

“It doesn’t work all the time!”

“Are you freakin’ kidding me?!”

“SORRY!!! I’M STILL IN TRAINING, YOU KNOW!!!”

“Un-freakin’-believable.”

Raven and Summer noticed the bodies of Qrow and Taiyang slightly move where they lay.

“Great. If we were gonna get this wrecked, I think I would’ve preferred dying alone.”

“Hey,” Summer whispered. “Say, I could do the thing. What were you thinking?”

“I’ve got one move left in me,” Raven answered. “But it’s a sure-kill, if you can get me in range and in a blindspot.”

“Why do I feel like you’re putting up a really good front?”

“Cause I am…! But also, cause there’s a chance you and I got this. You and me. We can take him down.”

Summer felt the other girl’s intense stare, and derived courage from it.

“Alright,” she nodded. “I’ll get us in place, but if he’s this good, I doubt we’ll take him by surprise.”

“Yeah, true,” Raven winced tiredly.

“Wait a second. If he’s this good, just maybe…”

“What? What do you have in mind?”

Without answering her, Summer took out her chakram, and began reflecting light at Qrow and Taiyang. At the same time, Athos made his dash to put an exclamation point on the battle.

Qrow and Taiyang were barely cognizant enough to understand Summer’s light signal.

D-E-C-O-Y

The two boys flared their remaining Auras for nothing save superficial appearance. But the move prompted Athos to briefly split his focus. Due to his veteran experience, he made sure to assess any unexpected threats, no matter how unlikely. And in that sliver of an opening, Summer made her move.

(((*Ring*)))

A ghostly chime resounded the area.

Summer and Raven faded from Athos’s view like a haze, then reappeared from above.

As the pair fell, the Professor thrust his rifle up.

All of them, betting their lives on the next movement.

…

Two events happened simultaneously.

As Raven unleashed her most powerful technique, the sounds of two ear-piercing clashes resounded. The power released from the collisions warped the atmosphere, and even reality itself. And when Summer and Raven tumbled to the ground, they saw Professor Caliburn and Professor Ozpin were the ones to deflect the sword technique.

At the same time, when Athos was about to shoot his rifle, Professor Myrddin had one finger looped around the trigger and another hand clutching the hammer.

The Headmaster grinned slightly.

“I believe the test has concluded for these four.”

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X  X X  X  X

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 “When do you think this dog and pony show is gonna be over?” Qrow side-mouthed his question to his sister.

Raven only shrugged with indifference. Her focus was solely on the girl standing to her far-right at attention. Summer Rose appeared as stiff as a board.

She’s cute…

And dangerous.

There’s more to her Semblance than meets the eye.

Summer could feel Raven’s eyes on her. A stare like she could see right through everything. It made her even more nervous than she already was. It also made her chest hot with a tenseness she was unfamiliar with.

“Rav—”

But before she could call out to her, Headmaster Myrddin approached them. Summer, Taiyang, Raven, and Qrow stood in a line, on the stands of the auditorium. Each of their faces projected on the screen above.

“It is my pleasure to recognize these new students of Beacon Academy,” Myrddin voiced. “Henceforth, you will be known as STRQ Team. With your Mentor, Professor Athos Bleu.”

As the Headmaster introduced the new team to a round of applause, his hand extended to Athos last. The veteran Huntsman only spat, and took long gulps from his flask. His teeth bared with a look of disdain.

“—I won’t train them.”

The raspy words incited countless murmurs among those in attendance. STRQ Team, also looked at the man with crooked gazes.

Athos only turned with a swish of his cape. His staggering steps resounded awkwardly as he exited the hall.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Huntsman, or a Professor, so drunk off his ass,” Qrow commented.

“I get the feeling, this is just the beginning of a long string of unexpected crap to come,” Raven huffed.

“Hey, at least we’re on the same team, right?” Taiyang smiled uncertainly.

“Right…” Raven replied. “Sure thing, Tai.”

Summer looked to each of her new teammates down the row. Taiyang, the boy who was smaller than her, but much stronger than his appearance let on. Raven, the cool tall beauty, with a deadly skill and temper to match. Qrow, a lanky teenager, who liked to act tough, but was softer on the inside.  

A mixed bag of oddities, she thought, with her perhaps the oddest of them all. Even so, there was a strange chemistry beneath it that made Summer let out a childish snorting laugh. It elicited similar smiles in her comrades. Their thoughts probably one and the same.

Yeah.

This Team’s either going to do great things,

Or greatly terrible things.