#yes i know they were made by crossbreeding

[thethirdtreeofvalinor]

uruk-hai one: i voted for meat back on the menu

uruk-hai two: well now there’s only two genders

uruk-hai three: i was born from mud

[redd956]

Beekeeping Myths & Facts

I'm just tired of seeing the myths being spread about beekeeping. I'll probs include some bonus facts for wasps and hornets too.

1. Myth: Bee smoke calms the bees.

This simply isn't how it works. The bee smoke causes bees to think there is a fire near the hive. Bees go to fill up on as much as honey as they can, and prepare to leave for a new home. They become too busy to mess with you doing this and resume normal life when the smoking stops.

2. Fact: It helps a hive to remove some honey.

Without the removal of some comb or honey, the bees will simply run out of room, especially for their larva. When a hive runs out of storage space, bees will abandon it and risk the dangers of swarming somewhere else. Taking some comb out stops this process.

3. Myth: Taking honey upsets the bees.

This is not true whatsoever. The interesting thing about beekeeping is that if a swarm doesn't like a beekeeper they'll simply leave. This doesn't mean bees won't sting or get defensive. It's important to know bees have a variety of temperaments.

4. Fact: Bees die after stinging.

Yes, it's true. Most bees perish after a hard sting. Their stingers are barbed. When they sting you the stinger stays put. In the meantime, the bee loses some of their innards and dies.

5. Myth: There's male and female bees.

This is a yes and a no. Bees do not have a human concept of gender. In fact, the gender roles we project onto bees aren't fully perfect either by our own standards too. Bees have three genders; queen, worker, and drone. It's all a little complex. Workers can't lay or produce eggs however the same larva that becomes a worker or drone can alzo become a queen.

6. Fact: Bees, wasps, and hornets know where your face is.

I know this one sounds weird. When bees, wasps, and hornets get defensive or are aggressive, they go for your face and neck. They will try to hit you where it hurts, that includes the eyelids. That's why we cover our faces just enough to see a little when attacked by killer bees.

7. Myth: Africanized Bees are like normal bees.

If you didn't know this, you do now. Africanized Bees is the formal name for our buddy ol' pal killer bees. They look pretty normal though. Why the name? Killer Bees were made in a Brazilian lab by crossbreeding honey bees from Europe and Africa. This was supposed to create bees with better honey yields. Instead, we created bees with a sadistic liking for deadly attacking.

8. Fact: Bees are what's known as a superorganism.

Superorganisms are what you get when a whole gathering of organisms acts as one or in the faith and safety of a whole organism. Think like the cells in your body. Except instead of cells, they're bees. Bees aren't the only superorganism. There's termites, wasps, hornets, and also ants.

Bonus Facts

The two second most powerful stings are dedicated to a wasp and a hornet.

There's the powerful and paralyzing Tarantula Hawk sting, and the sudden and strong Giant Asian Hornet sting. Number one of the Schmidt pain index scale for worst stings goes to an Ant though, the bullet Ant.

Wasps and hornets can also produce honey and pollinate. They don't pollinate as well as bees though, and their honey is never as sweet.

The gene tied to allergic reactions for bees, is also loosely tied to the allergies for hornets and wasps, too. If someone who is allergic to bees have children, their kids can be allergic to wasps but not bees and vice versa. Someone can also inheret all three too. I've never been stung by a hornet, so I guess I'm safe 2/3 so far

[laurestcphens]

'We can't have everything we wish for,' Laure thinks to herself in response, but she offers nothing but a soft hum out loud. Death is a complex thing, but she supposes that if anyone were to understand death, it would be the child before her, and the mother who raised her. Even though her knowledge of magic is secondhand, it's hard to miss the rot that clings to them in the thinnest film. Perhaps it's what makes them tolerable to Laure, beyond the shared memories they have.

"Markus may cry, that's true," she chuckles. It might be the only thing to bring tears to his eyes, though she has no wish to test that theory. She tells herself that she's being selfless, dragging on through life for Markus or Nikko or Blair or whatever other sentimental connections she's apparently made in the seven centuries. Even Desmona, despite the young witch's attempts to bridge the gap between them, there have been moments of mutual respect and cooperation over the years. Nikko's next confession makes that clearer, and she smiles unbidden, thinking how the witch would hate that Laure knew.

She isn't surprised at Desmona's attempts to harness her power to bring Kiri back. Sher herself had demanded it of her once, eyes bloodshot in grief as she begged the witch to bring her back. Impossible without a body, yet she longed for it all the same. When Desmona couldn't, Laure left with her grief, throwing blame wherever it might stick. Their relationship has never been the same after that, but her pride makes it difficult to acknowledge.

Laure beckons with a hand for Nikko to follow, setting out on the familiar path towards Kiri's greenhouse, the lights on the path guiding their way. Blair and other Phial witches tend to the plants now for the most part, but she spends her own share of time in the garden her late wife had cultivated. "Carnivorous plants, yes, ones that can bite your whole hand off however? Unfortunately not," she says, feigning disappointment.

Warm grow lights light up the space and she winds her way through the rows towards a back corner. The plants in question are in their own little formation, without risk of crossbreeding with any of the others. "I believe that one is fond of whatever manner of bugs or lizards find their way inside," she points out. "I don't know if they have any magical purposes, but Kiri thought they were rather useful for pest control."

“I would prefer no death to be in your near future, at all.” She knows when her aunt Kiri passed, mother paced the living room with the insanity of a mad woman ⸻ worried deadly Laure would walk in the sun. Nikko had asked, foolishly, then if Desmona ever seen a vampire die; mother had given her the most vivid detailed story of a vampire burning in the meadows. She could not sleep for days after ⸻ Kept imagining it was Laure there, turning to ashes, not a sound to be made. She couldn't stare Laure in the eyes, after.

The memory of it tastes bitter on her tongue, even now. “I'm sure that weird frenchman who likes you will cry.” I will too, she leaves unsaid, hoping the woman knows that she cares. It might not mean much, but family sticks together even when the only thread knotting you together is gone. Lilo and Stitch taught her that.

“She wants to visit more,” she hurriedly explains, in a weird defense of her mother. Desmona doesn't need it, would much prefer Laure not ro know she wastes precious seconds of her day thinking about her, but Nikko can't bite her tongue and keep it to herself. “It's just ⸻” she plays with the rings on her fingers, twisting until her skin is red ⸻ “she is very bad at caring. And I think she ⸻” she clears her throat, then ⸻ “is embarrassed she can't bring her back.” It would be lovely, wouldn't it? If her mother could prevent the grief from settling, the body from rotting in the dirt. She has pushed Nikko way too far, in the months after Kiri's death, so the girl's own necromancy could be useful. It didn’t work. Nothing would. What is dead, is dead. It doesn't belong to them anymore. She knows that.

“I'm not on a leash… Today.” Mother is busy with coven meetings, and there's nothing else to be done. “I was hoping I could spend some time with you, anyway. See some plants.” She gasps, then, weirdly excited, her words fast as a bullet train. “Do you have any carnivorous plant? ⸻ Is it true they can bite my whole hand off?”

[scapegrace74-blog]

The Man from Black Water, Chapter 20

A/N  With this epilogue, I’m wrapping up the crazy crossover that was bringing Jamie and Claire into the Man from Snowy River universe.  Thanks to everyone for reading, commenting, liking and reblogging.  It’s been a real joy to introduce many of you to this world that I’ve loved since I was you.

Previous chapters are available on my A03 page.

“Twins?” sapphire eyes rounded with tentative excitement.  “How can ye be sure?”

“If you put your hand here, you can feel one head,” Claire patiently explained.  “And over here is another.”

“Tang dhia,” Jamie offered up a heartfelt prayer of thanks for this abundance of good fortune.

“Ye’ll be able to deliver them safely, Sassenach?” his smile faltered as worry set in.

Claire looked up from where she was crouched on the barn floor.

“That’s really up to this lady here,” she patted the cow on the flank as she rose to her feet.  “But I’ll do whatever I can to help her out.”

Jamie nodded, relieved by his wife’s reassurance.

“That was the last heifer ye needed tae examine, aye?”

“Yes, I’m all done.  With a little luck, we’ll have eleven calves joining the herd come springtime.”

It was better than Jamie could have hoped, and it was all thanks to his wife.

***

After a blissful few days sequestered indoors, familiarizing themselves with the many carnal delights their new marriage offered, Claire finally convinced her husband to don enough clothing to step outside on a crisp, clear day, and show her his ideas for improving Lallybroch.  Excited his humans were no longer abed, Rollo lolloped ahead of them.

“A larger stable would go aboot here,” Jamie indicated a relatively flat piece of elevated ground, “wi’ space enough fer six stalls and a wee storage room fer yer instruments an’ such.”

Claire marveled once again at her husband’s easy acceptance of her chosen profession and his utter certainty she would be successful in pursuing it.

“Around the bend in the river there is a spot that’s sheltered from the northerly wind where I’d build a shed fer the cattle,” Jamie continued, his voice growing eager with anticipation.

“Won’t it be too cold to keep them out of doors all winter?” Claire wondered aloud.

With no little pride, Jamie preceded to spell out his grand plan. By crossbreeding hardy Highland cows with Lowland breeds better known for their meat, he intended to beat the cattle barons like Henry Beauchamp at their own game, albeit on a much smaller scale. The resulting livestock would be far cheaper to over-winter and would not need to be driven back and forth to the rich upland grazing, thus saving time and increasing yield.

“Jamie, that’s brilliant!” Claire enthused.  Her husband blushed beneath his winter tan, delighted by her praise.  Caught up in her excitement, Claire then proceeded to suggest several refinements to his plan.  The most important of these was to purchase slightly older heifers, rather than the one-year-olds he’d planned to procure from her father.

“Wouldna the older mothers ha’ fewer years tae produce?” he asked.

“Some animals bear young that are carbon copies of themselves, no matter the sire.  If you look at a cow’s previous offspring, you’ll know whether she’s going to pass along the longer coat and that Highland hardiness that you’re after.  You lose a few generations of calves, but what you gain are the characteristics you’re trying to ensure.”

Jamie looked at his wife in awe, the cold breeze staining her cheeks the colour of summer apples and blowing her hair amok.  It made him wonder.

“Will our bairns take after their sire’s red hair, do ye think Sassenach?” he half jested.  “Or will they have a mad curly wig like their mam?”  In truth, he rather hoped for a combination of the two.

Still a bit shy about speaking openly of their romantic life and its consequences, Claire bit her lip and looked down the glen, rather than meeting his eye.

“I suppose we’ll have to see, won’t we?”

***

“When do you leave for Inverness?” Claire asked as they walked hand-in-hand back to the main house after examining the cows.

“Day after next, if the weather holds.”

“I’m so proud of you, darling.  Perthshire’s first crofting commissioner.”

The Napier Commission had finally achieved its aims, and Parliament had passed the Crofters Holding Act the previous summer.  No longer could the Campbells or any other landlord turn Jamie or his fellow crofters out of their hereditary homes, so long as they continued to occupy them and used the land productively.  Rents couldn’t be arbitrarily increased.  The various counties of Scotland had elected representatives to a Crofting Commission that oversaw all disputes between crofters and their landlords.  Well-respected, charismatic and intelligent, James Fraser had been a natural choice for their region.

“Will ye visit wi’ yer Aunt Rosemary and Murtagh while I’m away?” he asked as they closed the door against the wind and moved into Lallybroch’s new ground floor sitting room.  A beautiful pine stairway Jamie had crafted by hand led upstairs to the three bedrooms.

“Maybe for the day, but I’m looking forward to having the time to do a little reading, perhaps catch up on some mending.”

Jamie settled into his favourite overstuffed armchair beside the fire, pulling Claire onto his lap before she could sit elsewhere.

“Are ye tired o’ yer husband awready then?” he teased, kissing the velvet skin beneath her jaw.

“You are rather distracting,” Claire purred as she extended her neck to invite further exploration.

“Aye,” he agreed, too pleasantly occupied to feign indignation.  Claire shifted her weight, rubbing her ample bottom against his groin in a move he was quite certain was deliberate.  She looked like an angel, but his wife was an incorrigible wanton, God be praised.

“Jamie?” she interrupted as he began the laborious process of peeling off all her winter layers.

“Hmm?”

“Maybe, by the time you come back from Inverness, I’ll have news for you.”

Even nose deep in her cleavage, Jamie heard the tentative, expectant tone in his wife’s voice.  His heart started to pound like a fist against his ribs.  He looked up into her bright, hopeful face with tears stinging the back of his throat.

“Then I shall rush home wi’ all due haste, Sassenach.”

[noodlegirl-googlyeyes]

i think a lot abt this guy i knew who was into apples. he kept up with apple farming news, new methods and varieties, stuff like that. he was just passionate about it. one day he comes to the house(we were housemates at the time) with a dozen or so 'cosmic crisp' apples, a new variety that had just hit shelves, and so i sat there while he told me about how this new strain was made, the crossbreeding lineage that led to it, and why it was such an exciting new development in the apple market.

we were housemates at a mens sober living(i wasnt out at this time) though, and soon after he went out and relapsed. i never saw him again. i did the same, shortly after, and that was the last anyone there ever saw of me too.

theres no big moral to this story. its not a lesson about this or that. but every time i get apples i check to see if there's any cosmic crisps. i'm eating one right now, and yes, they're amazing. it's been three years or so since then, and i still bring out that treasured memory and get a kick out of it every time i eat an apple.

maybe i lied. maybe there is a point, and it's this: he changed my life, just a little bit, and he doesn't know it. probably never will. so who am i to say that i don't matter, or that i don't make a difference?

[ridetherain]

Oof, it's been a while. I just haven't had any luck lately. I've been working on a new idea and I like it, but getting the words out of my head has been like pulling teeth! This is something completely different because I needed a break.

Community Garden

Words: 1664

Zelda let out a sigh at the gentle sound of wind chimes. The breeze was light and pleasantly cool in the heat of the Hyrule summer. It was good to get out of the stuffy castle and into nature, however artificial a community garden really was. Little plots were spread out in a wild array of liveliness with greenery springing from most boxes and a notable few browning and wilting. It was safe enough that Impa stayed at the entry gate and Zelda was granted the gift of solitude. Gravel crunched under her feet as she walked down the rows and ducked under a particularly vivacious bush growing spicy peppers. Another gardener was humming an aimless tune from several aisles away and the melody got Zelda whistling along gently.

She came to a stop at her two raised beds strung together with a fine netting material. Her samples of safflina were happily growing in one box where she planned to attempt crossbreeding them to produce a new variation of the plant. The second box was divided in two with sunshrooms taking the northern half and swift violets filling the southern. Zelda slipped on her worn pair of gloves and knelt at her experimental box. She gently picked all the little weeds that had grown since she last tended the garden and swayed in time to her little whistle. It was a beautiful day. She pulled out a small paintbrush and gently began hand-pollinating her safflinas. She kept her journal close and marked down the number of flowers painted with pollen on each plant. With any luck she would get a hybrid variant that could produce elixirs with dual properties. Thus far it has been considered impossible, but no one had tried to cross breed the ingredients. However, it was also possible that she would emerge with an entirely different effect. Pioneering a brand new elixir type would certainly ease the sting of failure on the dual property front.

After the pollination was complete, Zelda turned to her mushrooms. They were thriving happily in their thick compost bed. A stray weed or two were quickly pulled. Soon she would be travelling to the Spring of Power and wading into the frozen waters for a chance at her birthright. She had planted the sunshrooms for these trips and with a sad change to her whistle she pulled two from the rich soil and packed them away for later. It seemed unlikely that she would be successful at the spring, but at least she wouldn't freeze. Her knight had been quite cross (for him) when she had caught cold during their last trip to the spring. She was out of sync now with the happy meandering sound emanating from beyond her little plots, but she couldn't bring herself to match the happy sound.

Last she turned to the violets. There was no purpose to these. She had no need for an elixir to increase her speed. Even under the influence of such a drug she was unlikely to outpace much of anything. Most lizalfos were fast enough to kill her before she even knew to run and the Yiga could teleport. Even her own appointed knight was fast enough that she wouldn't be able to outrun him. Really, Zelda didn't know why she didn't just visit the official royal gardens to see pretty flowers. Professional gardeners took the time to grow violets that were nearly twice the size of her little plant and sculpted to a shape pleasing to the eye. There was something charming about the lopsided way her flowers decided to grow though. They leaned away from the small overhang strung over the mushrooms and only bloomed at the top third where the most light was available. Her mother used to love misshapen flowers. When Zelda was very, very small they used to sneak into the gardener's shed and steal away plants that had been discarded from the main gardens. They would put them in pots and nurse them back to health as best they could from the little balcony off of Zelda's bedroom. The Queen would say that the flowers just needed someone to love them. After she died, Zelda had all the pots removed and set up a prayer mat in their place.

Now, her flowers weren't so illicit and they had never stolen violets so it wasn't the same, but a melancholy tune drifted out of her anyway. Sitting in the fragrance of the violets felt the same as when she and her mother would sit and inspect their contraband in the warm evening summers of her childhood. With a sigh, she made her way over to the water pump with a big watering can and let out an internal sigh when she realized that the happy humming gardener had stopped humming. No doubt she had driven it away with her melancholic response. She plunked her can down at the pump and worked the heavy handle until water was easily flowing into her container and it was as full as she was able to carry.

Zelda straightened from the pump at the sound of footfalls making their way closer and closer. She put on her best Princess-Meeting-Peasant face for the humming gardener.

"Link?!" Zelda said incredulously, "What are you doing here?"

He gave her a wide-eyed look then looked down at himself and back up to her. He was in ragged brown breeches with the start of holes forming around the knees and a threadbare linen shirt that was untied at the top. He looked like nothing so much as a poor farmer. He even had the broad hat that was ubiquitous in the Hyrule Fields. Nothing about him looked like the straight-laced soldier she was familiar with or even like the relaxed Royal Champion he pretended to be for the crowds. He was uniquely bland in these comfortable, worn clothes and intricate, but common woven basket full of vegetables and herbs draped over his arm.

"Harvesting, Your Highness," He said. Link was kind enough not to add "obviously" to his response. He glanced down at her watering can on the ground and stepped close to her. He offered his basket and lifted the watering can easily with his other arm in one fluid motion. The basket was lightweight and had a very comfortable handle which had been worn flat and smooth from long-use. Link must have been gardening here long before he became her knight.

"Which way, Princess?"

She gave him an uncertain smile, but nevertheless led the way back to her little sanctuary. He bore the water to the entry and stepped back out after relieving her of her burden. He stood awkwardly for several moments, observing her careful watering of the recently pollenated safflinas, delicate touch on the life-saving mushrooms, and comparatively haphazard handling of the violets.

"Violets are my favorite," Link said, breaking their silence. "I'm surprised to see you growing them."

"I like them too," Zelda said simply, "They're pretty. Do you keep them as well?"

"Not here, but my mother grows them at my home in Hateno. She has flowers in as many colors as she can get. It's always beautiful. I just grow food." He gestured to the basket on his arm.

"Not enough food in Castle Town for your appetite?" Zelda let a teasing note color her tone and Link blushed scarlet in response.

"Never."

Link smiled a real smile at her. "Why violets instead of silent princesses? They're your favorites aren't they?"

Zelda shook her head, "They're difficult to grow. I just wanted something to enjoy," She paused and cast about for something to prolong the conversation, "Looks like you're preparing for a meal. Got someone special you're cooking for, or are you hoping for a good meal before our next journey forces us back on rations and forage?"

For some reason the question caused him to turn a deeper shade of red than her teasing really called for.

"No, nobody special - I mean, she's special, but it's not - I mean, yes I'm cooking for someone but we're not - I'm not, you know, special to her..." He petered off into an embarrassed sigh and ducked his head into his habitual uncomfortable neck scratch. Zelda gave him a strained smile to let him know that she wasn't going to tease him any further.

"No doubt you will charm your way into your special lady's heart in no time. I have yet to find a woman in Castle Town that isn't at least half in love with you. Once you round out your prospects with a homecooked meal I doubt she will be able to resist. Very few men can boast protection, charm, and domestic skills." Zelda tried to keep the envy out of her tone. She would give anything to have a suitor as accomplished as Link vying for her favor.

"That's kind of you to say," Link said in a self-deprecating tone, "But I'm afraid she wouldn't look twice at me. And even if she did, she's discovered my faults."

"Oh, no," Zelda said with a wicked smile, "You've told her one of your awful puns haven't you!"

"Many."

"For shame, Link! Let me see what you have in that basket. You'll need something special to make up for it!" She leaned forward and dug through the pile of vegetables before finding a few wildberries at the bottom, "Ah, ha! Make the lady a dessert. They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. I can assure you that it works on women too." She gives him a saucy wink that seems to shock him.

He tries for nonchalance, but still only managed a stammered "Yes, Princess." Zelda retrieved her own basket of sunshrooms and hooked her hand into the red-faced Link's arm and nearly dragged him out of the garden and back into the real world. Somehow she was back to whistling the happy tune Link had started.

[jorvegian-goddess]

Jorvik Wild Horse - Draft type

This took me a while but I finally have enough written about my headcanons for the draft type of the Jorvik Wild horse to post. And yes, I did say “draft type”; my over-imaginative brain decided there needs to be more than one type of JWH, so expect the next one to come out at some point.

Medium-sized horse (14-15 hands average) with a strong, stocky build

 Found in deep forests and mountains, possibly in Dino Valley

Most common colours are: black (grey), bay, chestnut, buckskin, dun, grullo, roan, palomino

Patterns include: unusual, primitive markings and mantel pattern on the underbelly, brindle, splash, rabicano

Appaloosa, overo, and tobiano are considered extremely rare and usually only appear in crossbreeding with domestic or feral horses

Unusual colours such as green, blue, purple, and bright red also appear mainly as highlights in the mane and tail and markings - these colours appear mostly in herds that live in Pandorian energy-rich areas

Horses found in colder regions (ex. Dino Valley) are mostly black, grey/white, blue roan

Can have an unusual, lion-like tail; maybe be hereditary

Stallions:

Slightly taller and more muscular than mares

Mature stallions have a thick, lion-like mane that extends down the underbelly; younger stallions have shorter manes with a mohawk

Also have canines used for combat against other stallions

Mares:

Almost all mares have long manes; some may develop short manes similar to stallions depending on testosterone levels

They are the ones who decide which stallion they wish to breed with and have even been known to help chase off particularly persistent rivals

Lack canines - although like the mane, may appear due to irregular testosterone levels

Herd life/Social structure

Herds are usually 5-8 adults, plus foals and younger stallions not yet kicked out

Mares give birth to a foal every at least every 5-6 years; sometimes even longer

Due to the lack of natural predators, foals take longer to mature

Consist of two lead horses - lead stallion is the primary protector, lead mare typically leads the herd to grazing area and water; younger males help protect the herd, and occasionally babysit

Younger stallions are kicked out once either the new colts are old enough to replace them or they attract a mate of their own

Young mares stay until they’ve chosen a mate; in some cases, such as the death of their chosen mate, they have been known to return to their birth herd

Mares have been known to frequently nurse each other’s young

Sometimes multiple herds will gather into a larger herd numbering up to 20 animals; in which case the oldest and most physically fit stallion and mare will lead, regardless of which herds they come from

They have a rather unique, elk-like call used mostly as a warning

There is said to be a sacred place where old and severely injured horses go to die in peace; predators will wait near dying horses, but not even touch them till they’ve passed away

Other Notes

Are said to live between 70-80 years old; locals claim to see horses as old as 90

On the rare occasion that populations get too high, a restricted number of horses are rounded up - typically bachelor stallions and adolescent mares who do not have a new herd; breaking up pre-existing herds is traumatic for these horses and can have severe consequences

Trusted equestrians are intensely vetted to ensure horses go to the best possible owner

Training these horses is extremely difficult due to their nature and intelligence

They cannot be kept in stall indoors; even though they know how to open one, they will purposefully destroy it in revenge

Attempts made by colonizers in the past to breed and domesticate these horses have always failed; the horses either escape or die from what is said to be heartbreak

Crossbreeds with feral/domesticated horses can be domesticated

According to local legends, this breed is one of the ancestors of the Jorvik Warmblood; in revenge for the attempts to domesticate the wild horses, the Jarl’s own favorite mares and stallions were stolen during a fierce storm by a Wild herd (whether it was the draft-type or another type is unknown). While the Jarl’s horses were never found, descendants of theirs were brought back and domesticated - whether it was the draft-type or another type is unknown

Are extremely intelligent - on par with elephants

Removing these horses off the island is forbidden and is said to carry a curse for both horse and man

[syndianites]

The After; The Athar: Chapter Three

Chapter 3/?

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 [Here] - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

AO3: This Chapter - Full Fic

Summary: Post Season 2, non-Mianitian Compliant. Wag escorts Martha to Jordan’s house and decides to have a day out with Sonja.

Relationships: Sparklington (end-game), Marthlington (temporarily), Sparkanite (Spark x Ianite) (past, mentioned), Motanite

Content Warnings: Death Mentions, Implied Depression, Implied PTSD, Self-Deprecation, Breaking up a Relationship (Marthlington)

AN: A good handful of these first chapters are going to be set up and exposition for later. I wanted to put some worldbuilding and character buildup with more than just Wag and Jordan because it’s nice and feels more fleshed out that way. This is more or less my version of a post-S2, maybe S3 fic, so I wanted to go ham on it.

——————————————————————————————

The trek home was much more light hearted. More dramatacisms about the flower, a joke about Wag’s weed quest here, and easy banter shared back and forth. Wag would like to think that Sonja looked more relaxed on the way back, like a weight fell off her shoulders.

But that was an ongoing battle. It would be some time before it really fell away.

Of course, halfway home Sonja dropped another bombshell.

“I think I’m going to break up with Tucker.” Sonja spoke up.

Wag tried not to visibly startle. No, he didn’t see this coming. Should he have? Maybe. Actually, he expected Tucker to be the one to end it, after the whole Shadow’s business.

And here Wag was, staring at her like a fish struggling to breathe.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t look so surprised. It’s going to happen whether I bring it up or not.”

“Are you breaking up with him because you’re afraid he’s going to break up with you?” He was still trying to pick his jaw off the floor.

“Hmm.” Sonja considered this for a moment. “Yes, but also no. I’m not afraid he’s going to, I just have a strong feeling he will. At the very least, we’d need to take a break since all of-,” she gestures to herself vaguely, “-this happened. And, honestly?” Her head tilted to the side. “It’s probably for the best. I do love Tucker, and it will take some time to let those feelings simmer and fade if we do break up, but I think we’ve been… drifting from each other for a while.”

“What?” His eyes snapped back to hers. “Really?”

Sonja nodded. “This wasn’t our first fight. Or, well, falling out. Things were fine before we jumped into the void, but we didn’t agree with how to handle the new world. How to handle Ruxomar’s Mianite.”

Wag nodded slowly. He wouldn’t know the difference. If he was being honest, he didn’t really know the other heroes that well before Ruxomar happened. He was a wizard, tasked with building, magical in every sense, and he had his own squad. The most he had thought of Tucker and Sonja’s relationship was when he helped build their home.

She sighed. “Tucker was very intent on following that Mianite. Ever the devotee. Granted, Tom and Jordan were the same with their gods but theirs were… different? I guess? Ianite wasn’t around, to start, and Dianite was dead. But we always had an idea on Mianite.”

Her tail swished behind her and she grabbed it for a moment, running her hand down its length before letting go. “He was who all of Dagrun worshipped.” Her voice took on a darker tone. “Or were supposed to worship. Tucker only wanted to believe the best of Mianite. I wasn’t quite with it. We would fight, sometimes, about Mianite, or something he did, or what his effect on the town was. Then there was the Ianitas, there was Inertia, there was-” She took a breath. “There was a lot.”

Turning to look at Wag, she gave him a smile and a shrug. “It got a bit tense between us, for a while. Well, it has been tense. Things didn’t really cool off until we were floating aimlessly in the void, again, and we had time to think and talk it out.”

“So you think that with your whole Shadows business coming out you guys need some time apart? To let the tension simmer down?” It was starting to make some sense. Let time and distance see if the heart will grow fonder or if the mind will let go.

Or something like that.

“Kind of.” Sonja turned back towards their destination. “I just. I don’t know if after this we’ll be able to make it work anymore. And if we can’t I’d rather end it on good terms than, I don’t know, explosive, world shattering, terrible terms?”

“Basically, you still want to be friends if things don’t work out.”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

They walked in silence after that. A comfortable one, but heavy nonetheless. Wag had a lot to think about. He was about to go through a break-up too. Should he say something? Ask her about it? Martha and him didn’t really have any rough, tense things that were breaking them apart. They hadn’t fought, or brought up dark, hard secrets. It was just a falling apart. They still loved each other.

There was just someone missing.

And there was nothing Wag could do to make up for that hole Steve had left.

He looked back at Sonja, who was casually thumbing one of the petals of the cornflower they’d picked out for Mianite. She was lost in thought, but there was a determined look in her eyes. She was moving in the right direction. Growing, letting change come through.

Wag wanted nothing more than to plant his feet in the ground and stay where everything was easy. Easier. But the world had other plans.

In the end, when they made it back home, Wag hadn’t said anything. There was a place inside him that was afraid of speaking his decision into words. Afraid that if he said he was going to break up with Martha that things would start to fall apart.

He sure hoped not.

---

Wag spent the rest of the day sorting out the flowers they’d found and parsing through potion orders. Most of what they’d picked were more natural- flowers, some vines, and a butt load of four leaf clovers. Which so happened to grow more frequently in the area they’d gone to.

He knew from experience.

The potion orders were easy enough to set up. He’d finished boxing and tagging all the luck potions- there were only three left to do- and scheduled a shipment time, which meant going to his mail cart and placing in a whole crate of them for the post office to deliver for them.

This area had a post office now, freshly installed around the time the town popped up. Convenient for wizards who didn’t get out much.

Then he organized the rest of his current potions in terms of difficulty- easy ones go first- and picked up any new orders from the mail.

Boring, boring, boring.

Once he’d set all of that up he took to his greenhouse. Tended to his plants. Checked on his latest crossbreeding project. It was still developing, but he checked each stage for weed-adjacent properties. None yet.

And then, silence. Nothing to do. He could eat, he could sleep, he could read until his eyes bled. Oh, wait. Scratch that. He could read until his eyes dried out.

He rolled said eyes at that train of thought. In reality, he was just going to go to sleep. The sun had just set, which was excuse enough for him. Sure, he could research his magic related issues, or his weed related quest, or something, but he’d done enough thinking today. Had enough problem sorting.

But as he laid down to sleep, clad in sweatpants and a simple gray shirt this time, he was wide awake.

There was an unsettled buzz humming beneath his skin. Something restless and worried. Things were changing faster than he wanted them to. 

Sure, he could take a town forming, he could take new people showing up, he could take the Ruxomar people living here, all of that was fine. New things weren’t as hard to keep up with.

But the old things changing?

Seeing Sonja’s and Tucker’s relationship crumble, seeing Jerry’s Tree change, Mianite’s Temple change, being left behind by his fellow wizards. Everything to do with Martha. It was like life was starting to move on without him, and Wag was still left knee deep in everything that had happened. The past was clinging to him, dragging him down, stopping him from reaching into the future, practically tearing him from the present.

How long until he didn’t recognize the people around him? How long until they grew so far from him that he really became just some random guy making potions in a tower? Would people care? Would they think back and wonder what happened to him?

It hurt to think about. If Wag had his way, he’d banish the thoughts from his head forever, but things have a strange way of crawling back when you don’t want to think about them. Still, it was a struggle. Everything felt like it was moving too fast, like Wag was too far behind to catch up.

He really should try to get out more.

But why? So he can watch things change? So he can look on helplessly as the world around him becomes something new? What’s worse, seeing change happen and being unable to keep up, or stepping out of your house one day to see that nothing was the same?

Wag rolled over.

Dear Athar this is not what I want to be thinking about. 

He’d just have to do his best to keep up. To claw his way back to the present when the past tries to drag him down. If he can at least stay with it, change won’t feel so bad. If he’s in the thick of it, surely he, too, will feel it? Will change for the better.

Wag sure hoped so.

The distant sound of bells broke his thoughts. His doorbell, to be exact.

By now it was the dead of night and any right-minded person was sleeping right now. Or trying to. Wag considered whether it would be better to stay in bed, wallowing, or get up and see what’s what.

Another ring urged him to rise.

He spiralled down, and down, and down his stairs, his room being at the top of the tower. Wag missed elevators so much. Maybe he could be the man to pioneer the elevator. Start with a simple pulley system, like they use in mines, and work up from there.

Letting go of that train of thought, he finally reached the bottom floor and strode over to yank the front door open.

It was Tom.

“Bought time you showed up mate, I thought I was gonna hafta walk up there to get you myself,” Tom chirped. “Oh!” He leaned in. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

Wag gave him a deadpan look. “Didn’t you just say you would have gotten me up if I hadn’t answered?” Tom grinned at him cheekily. “Thought so. And, for the record, no. I was pondering life’s mysteries like one normally does at,” He squinted into the outdoors. “Whatever fucking time it is.”

“Wonderful! May I come in?” Tom asked, already walking in.

“Be my guest.” Wag made an aborted movement to complain about the fact he walked in anyway, but thought better of it.

Tom wandered the foyer for a moment, trying to get out extra energy, before he flopped onto Wag’s mediocre couch. Wag knew he ought to offer food and drink, but it was too late at night for him to care. Instead, he took a seat beside Tom, whose head was leaning over the back of the couch.

“It’s been a while, huh?” Tom’s face was lacking his normal energy. Like the act of sitting let it all out. His hands, however, fluttered nervously, fingers drumming, palms smoothing down his pants.

“We saw each other yesterday.” Wag regretted not getting a drink. He was feeling Tom’s restlessness. It would be nice to have something to do with his hands. “Not that long ago.”

Drawing his shoulders up, Tom released a sigh. “Long enough.”

Silence again.

“Have.” Tom stopped. He was mulling over his words, a rare occasion for someone who prefered to think on the fly. “Have you been doing alright recently?”

A strange question.

“Define recently.” Wag wasn’t about to open up another heart to heart discussion. One per day was enough.

“Y’know. Recently! Like, the past few days.”

Try since we fell back into the world.

“I guess? I haven’t felt any different than before.”

This is where Tom’s eyes sharpened. He appraised Wag, took him in. Surely, what Tom saw was a tired, weary man. A Waglington far from his best. Hair messy, eyes dark, the strain of life held deep in his shoulders.

Except, none of his keener friends had noticed. Why would Tom?

“You haven’t been doing well for a while, huh?” 

Or, rather, why wouldn’t Tom?

Still, Tom being the one to notice was a shock.

Wag looked him in the eyes, held them for a moment, then looked away. That was answer enough, in his opinion.

“Shit,” Tom softened up, curling forward to rest his elbows on his knees, face pillowed in his fists. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Why? Well, there were a number of reasons. They bounced in his mind every time he thought to himself, ‘Would anyone care?’

Feeling insignificant, feeling useless, hopeless, like after everything he’d done it didn’t mean anything.

Maybe he was depressed.

“I couldn’t. I didn’t know how- I,” Wag couldn’t find the words. “I didn’t want to bring everyone else down with my problems when they all have their own.”

Tom straightened up and turned towards him. Leaned in. Got close to his ear. “Wag.” His voice was breathy, light.

“That is the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

And loud. Fuck, did he have to get that close.

“It’s not dumb! It’s just how I felt. Feel.” Tom didn’t have to be a dick about it. “You guys do have shit going on, though! Everyone is trying to deal with their own crap, why would I add mine like a sour little cherry on top?”

Said asshole flopped on top of him, forcing Wag to lean back to accommodate Tom on his lap. “That’s not what I meant. How you feel is how you feel. What I meant is that we don’t give a shit about what all we have on our plates, we care about you.”

Wag moved to hold his head in his hands, making sure to dig his elbows into Tom’s back. “And I care about you enough to not want to worry you.”

“Wag.”

“Yes.”

“That’s-”

“Bullshit?”

“Bullshit.”

Tom wrapped his arms around Wag’s waist and snuggled in. Wag fell back into the couch. “Still. I don’t want to drag you down.”

“If we can’t deal with your problems, we’d let you know.”

“I’m sure.”

“I would, at least.”

Wag huffed. “I know you would. You like to let everyone know what’s on your mind.”

“Sometimes.” Tom’s voice was flat. It was unsettling.

“Do,” Wag rubbed soft circles into Tom’s back. “Do you have a problem you want to talk about.”

Tom buried his face into Wag’s stomach. “Yes,” his voice was muffled, but audible. “But not now. I’m here because I felt like you were thinking too hard and needed someone to talk to.”

That was interesting. He ‘felt’ like it?

“I appreciate it. But how-?” Tom squeezed his waist. It was a clear not now.

“Did you want to talk about what’s up with you?” 

Wag shook his head, then realized Tom couldn’t see him. “No. I’ve had enough heart dumping today.”

They sat in silence again. 

“Are we gonna just lay here?” Tom said nothing. “Did you just wanna snuggle on the couch until one of us decides to get up?” 

Wag received a non-committal hum.

“Alright then, but if someone walks in on us here I’m going to have to tell them they we’re involved in a long standing affair.” Wag moved to lay alongside Tom on the couch, comfortably curling an arm around him. Tom responded with a quiet chuckle.

An easy silence washed back over them. Having Tom as a warm weight next to him was helping, surprisingly. Or maybe not surprisingly. It was harder to think about all the things that made you feel like shit when you had someone else holding your waist in a death grip. Was it a little painful? Yes. Did it help nonetheless? Also yes.

In the end, he was grateful Tom showed up.

---

Wag woke up with a pain in his back and a groan. Which wasn’t terribly unusual, except he couldn’t remember what he did to get his back right to the point of aching without being downright horrible. Or why his neck would feel stiff.

Then, of course, there was the weight settled on his chest. Tom. Tom drooling on his chest.

Ever the good friend, Wag decided to help him wake up. By lovingly pushing Tom off him. Only to go crashing down to the floor as well when Tom, sensing movement, latched on tight.

“Aw, fuck,” were Tom’s first words of the morning, followed by a, “What the fuck.”

Wag shoved at Tom. “Let go. I love you too, but I would rather not sit on my couch all day.”

“Well, why not? That’s as good a way to spend a day as any.” Tom held on with an impish grin, still groggy from his sudden awakening.

“Aw, you guys looked so cute up there.” A voice from the stairs drew their attention. Martha. “And here I thought you guys were such good friends, cozying up to each other. I’d come down to give you a blanket, but I suppose you won’t be needing it now.”

True to word, a blanket was held in her arms. Wag flopped onto Tom, squishing him into the floor. “Oh, Martha dear, you are just a little off. You see, Tom and I here are not friends, we are-”

Tom jumped in, “Lovers. Have been since we met in our early teens. Sorry to break it to you, but Wag was mine first and I want him back.”

Martha’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that so?” There was a teasing note in her voice. “Does that make me the rebound? Waggles, I can’t believe you would disgrace me so.”

If anyone was the rebound, Wag thought, it’s me.

“Yep!” Tom popped the ‘p’. “And now that we are well and fully together again, what shall we do with you.”

Wag rolled his eyes and sent Martha a wink. She hid a giggle behind her hand.

“Well, Tomothy, I have bad news for you.” Wag looked down into Tom’s eyes, giving his cheek a mock caress. “Martha is way cooler than you. She’s got purple hair, to start, and some spectacular magic tricks. I don’t know if you can compete with that.”

There was a flash of something in his eyes, and for a moment Wag saw Tom's mouth open only to be replaced by a dark, pained look. Then it was gone, replaced by Tom’s usual mischief.

“I can’t believe you!” Tom let go, finally, to push Wag away and roll to the side clutching his heart. “After all we’ve been through! That one time I gave you my meat! When we did drugs together! And you’re leaving me because my hair isn’t purple!”

He got up, dusting his legs off, and sashayed to the front door. “That’s fine, I’m too much of a boss ass bitch for you anyway. Ta ta, my not dearest. Until we never meet again!”

Then he was gone.

Martha piped up again, having moved to place the blanket on the couch. “As dramatic as always.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid I only stopped by to pick something up for Dad. I’ll be leaving as well.”

Wag pulled himself off the floor as she passed, giving her a smile. She hesitated before returning it.

She opened the door with a look over her shoulder. “Goodbye, love.”

And, just as she started to walk out, she muttered to herself, “Did Tom already make it down the mountain? Strange.”

Then Wag was alone. Again.

---

It was midday when Wag found himself back at the bakery, quietly eating an apple tart while Gretchen eyed him from over the counter. There were a few customers here and there, though most of the village inhabitants out fishing for the day or working their craft. Wag, of course, ran on whatever schedule suited his needs per day.

Gretchen, who was preparing dough for tomorrow, was clearly waiting for him to say what was on his mind. He ducked his head farther into his hood.

He was that obvious, huh?

“So, how has your da-” Gretchen cut off his attempt at light conversation. “You asked when you came in. Try again.”

Stunned, he reconsidered his words. “What do you think of-” She cut him off with a click of her tongue.

Clearly, she was not taking any bullshit today. Which was unfortunate. Wag wanted nothing more than to fill his days with insignificant bullshit if that meant he never had to face his problems.

Fuck.

Why was asking for advice so hard?

Gretchen hummed quietly to herself. Wag finished the tart. Slowly licked his fingers clean. And came up with nothing to say.

A customer came and went. The door closed with a soft jingle of the bell at the top.

He broke.

“I need to break up with Martha and I don’t know how.”

Gretchen turned to him with a surprised and considering look. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“What?” He scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She paused in her ministrations. Wiped her hands off on her apron. Turning to him, she leaned against the counter. “I didn’t think you’d consider that you weren’t happy with your relationship. It’s clear as day that you two aren’t much of a couple. Whether you were before you got here aint none of my business, but as you are now? I coulda mistaken you for friends, at best.”

Oh.

Ouch.

“Yeah,” Wag trailed off. “I don’t, uh, I’m not really sure how much of a couple we were either. Back then. Do you mind if I,” he waved his hands half-heartedly, “vent a little?”

Gretchen gave him a fond head shake. “I already put the dough down, I’m all ears.”

“So, um.” He wasn’t sure where to start. When they first met? When he started thinking that he might like her? When he realized he loved her? When they got together?

Steve?

“Martha was already in a relationship when we met.” Gretchen raised an eyebrow but said nothing else. “The guy she was with was the farmer type, rough, could fix anything with a little elbow grease and a stern look. Followed Dianite, the new one.”

Wag took a second to figure out where he was going with this. “They were engaged, actually. And then broke it off later. Martha and I grew close after that. But the thing was- is- Martha still loves Steve. Misses him. But he’s-” He broke off, lost again.

“Dead?” His head snapped to her. She held her hands up. “Hey, you were talking about him all past tense, and from what I heard about whatever happened to that other place, if someone didn’t show up here after all that calamity, they aren’t going to show up ever. They’re gone.”

Yeah, he was. Steve was six feet under. Farther than that. He was lost to the void with Ruxomar. Lost to Dianite’s soul. Claimed by the acts of the past for a better future.

And look where that got them. 

“Yeah, he’s dead now. It killed her, I think. She lost her mother, had all this power, yet she could do nothing to stop Steve from dying, too.” Wag was beginning to connect some dots, the kind of dots you look at and roll your eyes and claim are just things that happen in shitty romance novels.

Gretchen had her head on her fist now, invested. “Why did they split?”

“Uh,” Wag struggled to recall the information. “Because... I think it was because Steve ‘moved around too much’.” He made air quotes. “Or went on too many missions for Dianite? I don’t know the details.”

“Oh, that’s no good.” When she saw Wag’s confused face, Gretchen continued. “If they split over something like that, there’s always a good chance they still loved each other. I’m afraid to say it, but you may have been the rebound.”

Wag hated to hear that. “Hey, she flirted with me before their relationship was over. It was a mutual flirting thing, too!”

Gretchen groaned. “You guys flirted, while she was in a relationship, that you knew about, and when it was over she came to you? That sounds suspiciously like needed comfort after leaving the love of her life and knew you could give her that.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but deflated like a two weeks old balloon.

Taking a breath, a wheeze at best, he tried again.  “You don’t understand. Martha is, she’s amazing. She’s dedicated, and smart, and talented, and she’s always trying her best even under the pressure of being a demigod and having everyone look to you expecting greatness out of you.”

His heart was beating faster.

“And she’s polyamorous! She has room in her heart for more than one love, and we both knew that! Steve knew that! Martha didn’t rebound on me, exactly, but Steve and I had a mutual understanding that we both had places in Martha’s life and that was that.”

“She was kind, and caring, and only wanted the best for the people around her. There are so many amazing things about her.” His words were sweet but his voice was desperate.

“There’s no way she would be able to use someone- to use,” Wag grew quieter, “me, like that.”

Would she?

A hand on his arm startled him. Gretchen looked at him with soft eyes. “Hun, I don’t think she was truly ready for another relationship. She definitely didn’t go into it looking to use you. In fact, I’m sure she was in it because she loved you.”

She let go to move around the counter and lead him to a seat. “You can see it, sometimes, when she’s with you. The gentle fondness in her gaze, the warmth in the smiles she directs at you.” 

“But you can’t build a solid relationship without hashing through the issues and problems you have.” Gretchen rubbed up and down his arm. “And Martha being caught up on this Steve, that’s something you have to address. It’s no issue to love more than one person, but to let the love you feel for another get in the way of the love you feel for another is.”

“I just feel awful letting it go like this. I should have put in more effort, tried to bridge the gap more, done something.” Wag was trying to keep his breathing steady. It was working, somewhat. “I’ve let myself get into such a fuckin’ rut that I can’t even keep track of everything.”

Gretchen pursed her lips. “If I may be so crass, you’ve let yourself get so hard focused on everything about you that you haven’t given the time to look at the people around you. Before yesterday, when was the last time you’d taken the time to catch up with your friends? How much of their lives do you know about?”

He wanted to say something, give a date, but he came up blank. “I’m trying my best.”

“You are, and I see that. But you can’t blame yourself all the way through. You’ve got to consider Martha’s view as well. Neither of you are the villain here, neither of you tried to sabotage or destroy your relationship. Both of you were just trying to feel like things were going alright while other pieces of your life fell apart.” Taking the seat next to him, she shook her head.

Again, he moved to say something, but she cut him off. “If you don’t think that those of us ‘round town don’t notice that you heroes have some shit going on, you’re wrong. We may be the more common around here, but we have eyes. Whatever happened to you, you can’t let it be the reason you get stuck in something that makes you more upset or hurt. Got it?”

Hesitant, he nodded. She didn’t know much about him, yet she could see right through him, huh? How obvious had he gotten in all his time spent away from people?

“You know, I didn’t come here to have a heart to heart about my emotional issues.” Wag tried for a teasing tone but fell a little off.

Gretchen took the bait. “No sir, you came here because you’re too much of a wuss to just go up to Martha and say ‘Love, I’m afraid this ain’t gonna to work out. Can we just be friends?”

“Ok, but she could literally electrocute me.”

“Ain’t gonna be any more painful then the dance you two are doing right now.”

He had no answer for that.

“That’s what I thought. And, if she’s as nice and amazing as you say she is, would she electrocute you?”

“No. But her uncle might.”

Gretchen laughed. “Ah yes, the new Dianite. That’d be a sight to see. ‘This man we’re all suspicious and wary of smiting a local and apparent hero! Is this man actually the second coming of an evil and villainous Dianite?’ That’d go over well.”

“Ok, so maybe I don’t need to worry about getting my ass cooked by a god. I’m still nervous.” Wag was, however, feeling a little better about the situation.

“Now, now. You shouldn’t get too comfortable.” A smile grew in her face, a devious look in her eye.

“Why?”

“Spark, you know, her father? The man who built this village, who we all respect and acknowledge as a good man? If he were to come around and to, I don’t know, teach you a lesson for hurting his daughter, none of us would bat an eye.”

“Gee, thanks. If you find me dead in a ditch you’ll know what happened.”

“Are you all ready then?” She stood, smoothing her apron. “Because I’m going to kick you out regardless if you say yes or no. If I let you stay here you might not leave.”

“I was going to say no, but I suppose I’ll wander off, then.” Wag stood as well. He shuffled in place for a moment while Gretchen returned to the other side of the counter. “Thanks. For, you know. All of that.”

She shook her head. “You better keep coming in and buying my goods. Call it an even deal.”

As he begun to walk out, he heard her call, “You’re welcome to come back if you need another talk!”

Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to.

---

“Martha, I need to talk to you. About our relationship. I think it’s time to end it.”

Wag was back in his tower, pacing back and forth. No, he wasn’t running from the issue, he just had no fucking idea where Martha was. At all. He should have asked.

Oh well. Too late now.

Instead he had to make the choice of: wait for her at home or attempt to track her down. His decision was fairly obvious. The only issue with said decision was that he had was that there was no way to know when Martha would show up next.

It also occurred to him that Martha preferred not to come around. Shit.

Where would she be? She’d been talking to Jordan, at his request. Maybe they were still talking? But she’d come ho- come to the tower this morning. Why had she come over? What had she said?

Oh!

She was picking up something for Spark! That meant she was probably with him. Or, he’d know where she was.

…

He didn’t know where Spark was either.

“Damn, I wish I’d paid more attention to when Martha talked about Spark,” Wag muttered to himself, starting towards the door.

Then stopped.

First, Spark was intensely boring in his routine and life. Second, he still didn’t know where to find him.

He missed being able to teleport to people.

Alright, so maybe he should have shown interest in his potential father-in-law, but it was too late for that. He had to find Martha, and finding Spark might be easier. 

Who would know where he was? The townspeople might like him, but they all had their own lives. Still, he could ask around. Who had seen him more recently, other than Martha?

A thought struck him.

He face palmed.

Jordan. Not only had Jordan and Martha been talking, which meant he might know where she went, but Jordan complained about Spark lecturing him all the time. If he didn’t know where Martha was, he’d likely know where Spark was. Even if it was to make sure he could avoid him.

Alright, easy. Jordan was probably at his house. Tree. Tree house? He had a pretty good track record of keeping close to home, at least.

So off to Jordan’s it was.

---

Today, Jerry’s Tree made him feel small. It was like it was looming over him as he ascended the hill. Grand and regal. It had seen death and destruction and met the challenge to come back better.

Wag did not feel like he was rising to a challenge so much as descending into a pit of pain. Sliding into a sweet embrace with death. Rolling into the grave.

Maybe he was being dramatic, but the thought of breaking up with Martha created more dread than he felt before in his life. 

In any case, it was as he pondered the looming nature that he wondered what it would be like to live there. Then promptly remembered what he’d noticed the day before. 

He looked over to the Casa de Sparklez. It looked homey and modest against the sprawl of branches and bark. Sure, it seemed insignificant at first glance, but it was simple. Nice.

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

Hadn’t it also been destroyed? Now that Wag thought about it, the last he’d seen of it before Ruxomar was a pile of ash and suspended ruins. How was it in this condition? Fixed?

Was it Ianite, again?

How many of Jordan’s homes ended in ash?

This was definitely not the reason he was making his way up. He had to focus. Focus! Ask Jordan about Martha and Spark. Easy.

Instead of making his way to the Tree right away, Wag stopped to knock on the de Sparklez door. There was a beat of silence. Did he assume wrong? Was Jordan actually living in the Tree?

Then he heard footsteps. Quiet and uncertain, but there. A flash of movement through the windows. Then the lock was turned and the door swung open.

One Mr. Captain Sparklez in the flesh.

“Hey, Wag,” Jordan drew the words out. “What brings you to the good ol’ Casa de Sparklez and not-” He looked over to Jerry’s Tree. “-my house.”

Wag offered him a smile. “I had a hunch you’d be here.”

Jordan raised an eyebrow but motioned him in regardless. The interior looked the same from the few times he’d been inside. Birch and quartz, sleek and stylish.

“How have you been, Wag?” As Jordan spoke up Wag turned to look at him. He seemed like he was in good health.

“I’ve been... better. But I’m doing better than I was, I think.” Wag could be honest with Jordan. He was pretty sure. Jordan, among all the heroes, was least likely to judge him for having issues. Ianitee and preserving balance and all.

They wandered over to Jordan’s couches where Wag declined any food or drink. “That’s good. Always good to be better, y’know, since we’re all finally getting a chance to relax.”

“Now,” Wag put his arm on the back of the couch, “I wouldn’t say that. Say it too much and things will turn south again.”

“Oh, believe me, it’ll turn south again. It always does.”

“Well that’s quite the vote of confidence in us.”

Jordan snorted. “It’s not a lack of confidence in us, it's a lack of confidence in the universe! Who’s to say that we won’t have another World Historian show up? Or another Shadows?”

Wow, speaking of Shadows.

“Gee, and here I thought I was the downer.” 

Jordan laughed, shaking his head. “Only a little,” He rubbed his legs. “I’ve been using our downtime to get myself resettled, re-setup. To get back to,” A wave of his hands. “Normal? How things used to be? I’m not sure, yet.”

“Is that why you’re living here?” Wag bit back the ‘because it feels more like home, here?’.

He received a shrug in response. “It’s easier to get in here than to wander through the tree.”

Either that was a flimsy excuse or Wag was reading too deep into this. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was. All he’d done recently was think and talk deep. Better catch himself now before he gets ahead of himself.

“So,” He pushed his thoughts to the side, “Ignoring the fact that there’s elevators in the tree, how’d you manage to get this place back in shape?”

Jordan looked away for a moment. “It took a lot of time and resources. Needed to get all that wood and quartz back, y'know? But it gave me a reason to avoid Spark, and it gave me time to… think.”

“About?”

He turned his gaze towards Jerry’s Tree, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “About how much things have really changed, and how much they haven’t.”

Well, Wag was no stranger to this topic. He was a little tired of it. “How haven’t they changed? Seems like more and more things are growing and becoming different. Nothing feels the same.”

Jordan was quiet for a minute. He was steadily getting out of his comfort zone here. “Well, there’s a lot of constants. We’re in the same world, with the same people, with the same ideas of who we are. I know I follow Ianite, I know I stand for balance, and no matter how much Spark tries to tell me I’m doing it wrong, I know what my role is as Ianite’s champion.”

“Sure, the,” he waves a hand towards the window, to the tree, to the countryside, “everything, has changed. The tree got bigger and better and less like I remember, and there's new people and a whole, real village here, rather than the strange village-folk from before. And, yeah, it’s weird having the people from the last world among us, but we know them. We know us. Even when things change it's still-”

Jordan locked eyes with Wag.

“Us.”

Yeah. He was right. Everything was changing, as everything would. But in the end, after everything has evolved and adapted and become something new, what’s left?

Us.

[the-yellowturtle]

Title: By The Way (I Tried to Say Not to Eat That)

Rating: G

Summary: Zuko really, really likes spicy food. 

Note: This is for @zkdrabbledecember‘s Day 27: Don’t Worry :)

Check out the AO3 Link for the A/N 

For as long as history has been recorded, the Fire Nation archipelago has been known for its spicy cuisine. Believed to be good for chi flow, Fire Nation people till this day will consume chili peppers by the bucketload. Many think that spice is the most invigorating of the flavors, and thus it is not uncommon to find a bowl of plain chili peppers on the table for every meal. Even if someone does not partake in the peppers, the rest of the food will certainly give them their fair share of spice.  

It is undeniable that a high tolerance for spice is a source of national pride in the Fire Nation. However, despite their pride in being able to handle spice, there is one place that even Fire Nation citizens will request a mild dish: Ember Island.

The average Fire Nation citizen likes to claim that they do not fear spicy food. In Ember Island, they say that they fear non-spicy food. If the aroma of a dish fails to make your eyes water, then the dish is bland. Wielding the locally cultivated Sishen Pepper, the Ember Islanders never fail in weeding out who is not a local.

This is the place that Princess Ursa called her hometown, and it is this Ember Island heritage that undoubtedly gave birth to Zuko’s own insatiable appetite for spicy food.

___

Let it be said that Zuko never started to breed his own peppers with malicious intentions. He was well aware that his spice tolerance far succeeded that of the average Fire Nation citizen, let alone the foreign dignitaries that frequented the palace halls. He would willingly and gracefully suffer through the bland food that his guests preferred if it meant protecting world peace.

No, Zuko’s interest in growing peppers began a year or so after becoming Fire Lord. As one might expect, governing a country after a hundred years of war was a daunting task. An exhausting and stress-inducing task. It was during long nights in his study that Zuko discovered one way to cope with his new position: Sishen Peppers. Lots of Sishen Peppers.

Zuko had always loved to eat them with his mother as a boy, and now as Fire Lord he found himself snacking on them at every opportunity. The spiciness of the pepper never failed to reinvigorate him, and made it much easier to focus on the work that still had to be done. Besides daily firebending training, meditation and writing to his friends, eating peppers was one of the few ways that Zuko managed to curb his stress levels.

The thing was, though, being Fire Lord was extremely stressful. And if you ate spicy peppers enough, you would eventually become immune to the spiciness of said peppers. This was the predicament that Zuko found himself in shortly after taking the throne.

The solution? Breed peppers that were even spicier.

With words of encouragement from Uncle Iroh, Zuko slowly began to invest himself in the world of crossbreeding pepper plants. It’s a rocky start, but after a few years Zuko managed at last to produce a tiny, bright red pepper covered in blisters that he was proud to call his own. It was a pepper so spicy that even the Ember Island Representative had balked at Zuko’s offer of having a second bite.

Except for Zuko, the turtleducks were the only other beings willing to partake in the new breed of pepper. Turtleducks being incapable of tasting spice probably had something to do with this. Nonetheless, he decided to name the variety of pepper after his favorite animal.

In hindsight, calling it the Turtleduck Pepper was probably not the best choice.

___

As the Southern Water Tribe Ambassador to the Fire Nation, Katara was very familiar with the spicy cuisine of the country. Although she initially possessed the spice tolerance of an average Fire Nation toddler, her palette had come a long way. After a few years of spending her summers in the country, she could now easily enjoy the offerings of Caldera City. To her immense pleasure, even her fellow Southerners —her embassy coworkers and their families— began to use the local flavors in their own cuisine. It was heartwarming to see that chilipaprika seal jerky and ginlic chili stewed sea prunes had become beloved by Water Tribe and Fire Nation people alike.

Yes, Katara had developed an appreciation for spicy food. However, she was nowhere near the level of her boyfriend, Zuko. Unfortunately, she was greatly reminded of this fact one day when they were feeding the turtleducks in his private garden.

Katara blames herself. She really does. If she hadn’t been so caught up in staring at Zuko’s gorgeous smile, then she wouldn’t have gotten herself into this situation. However, Katara was only human and Zuko always looked so content when he was feeding the turtleducks and he always had the gentlest smile on his face and he just looked so beautiful and her brain just kind of disconnected from reality as she realized once again just how much in love with him she was and—

Instead of taking a bite of one of the blue bell peppers Zuko had personally cultivated for her, Katara took a bite of one of the Turtleduck Peppers.

The effects were pretty instantaneous. Katara knew she wasn’t dying, but between the coughing, the runny nose, the wet eyes, and the intense burning in her mouth; it sure felt like it.

“Katara! Agni! Are you okay?!” Zuko screeched while taking out a handkerchief to dab at her face. “What happened?!”

“The— The peppers! The Turtleduck Peppers!” Katara managed to croak out between coughs, and pointed to the half-eaten culprit on the ground.

Zuko muttered a few curses before handing her some hippo cow milk. “Drink that, it will make you feel better,” he explained as he rubbed up and down her back.

It took chugging down about another two bottles of the milk before Katara could feel her tongue again.

“Do you feel better now? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left the Turtleduck Peppers near y—”

“Zuko,” Katara interrupted, “Don’t worry, I feel a lot better now! And it’s not your fault. I should have been paying more attention instead of staring at you— instead of staring at the turtleducks!”

Zuko froze for a moment before getting a sly look on his face. “You were staring at me?”

“Yes,” Katara admitted with a grumble, dabbing at her wet eyes. “Of course I was looking at you. I love watching you do the things you’re passionate about. You just get this look on your face, and… La! It just reminds me of how much I love you.”

His response was to cup her cheeks and press a quick kiss to her lips, “I love you, too.”

“I know,” she smiled.

[fandom-necromancer]

697. The moon is high tonight, it frames you well.

Another prompt by the perfect @smolandangry001! It’s a bit longer than the usual short but hey, I had a bit more time today and it was fun writing! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

There was no way this was going to work. Gavin looked over to the android standing in front of the printer and staring at it as if it had offended him and the whole of androidkind by requesting magenta for a black and white print. The thing was rightfully terrifying and while he didn’t mind that, it was difficult to imagine them playing the happy, love-drunk couple their killer would fall for.

It was one of the worse cases. Some idiot was determined that humans and androids shouldn’t be allowed to live together and love each other, deciding the best way to push his opinion was by killing them. There were already couples that feared being out in public together or broke up completely to stay safe. And while Gavin couldn’t care less about less people smooching each other in parks, this was so clearly wrong, even more gruesome than the “normal” serial killer in his eyes. It was out of question that asshole had to be stopped. But the how was something he would rather not think about at all: Connor had come up with the grand idea they would simply pose as a couple to bait the killer. And there really wasn’t a good reason to disagree with the plan except to maybe tell them- No. Never. Don’t even think about it!

‘So… Any plans on how to do this?’, Gavin asked, trying to hide that blush that was starting to creep up his cheeks. Nines sat down, slapping the pages on the desk after hacking the printer. He supposed that had to be at least a violation of some law but didn’t care enough to start a fight. ‘Of course, detective.’, he answered, cocking a brow. ‘I believe the humans call it “fake dating”.’ ‘Yeah, no shit Sherlock. Any idea how to do that?’ ‘Tonight. Seven p.m. Blue Iridescence. Dress accordingly.’ ‘What?’ ‘You heard me.’ ‘No way, I’m not paying that much for a fucking investigation!’ ‘87% of all android-human couples have at least one date in this restaurant as it is one of the openly android-friendly establishment considering we don’t eat. It is likely the killer is present considering all victims had been killed shortly after eating there.’ ‘Damn, if I’m broke at the end of the month because of this, I blame you!’

Gavin had picked up his best clothing – a suit from when Eli had made the first robot to pass the Turing-test. Came to think of it, this had been the last time he had worn it, too. Well, he wasn’t the fancy type after all and from all the people he had dated until now, he probably had the best fashion sense still. Thankfully it still fit, it was even weirdly comfortable. He took extra time to wash and brush his hair, trying to make everything work together. But when he looked into the mirror, he just looked… foreign to himself. In a final thought he unpacked the cologne Eli had gifted him one Christmas years ago. It probably cost more than his car, but well, there wouldn’t be a better occasion to use it, he mused.

Kissing goodbye his cat he walked down to his car and funnily enough thought about calling an automated vehicle. But he brushed it off and sat behind the wheel. He was still him and he loved that old thing with all his knacks. He might wear a suit, but that didn’t change him. True to that, Nines snarled at him pulling up in the Blue Iridescence’s parking lot. The expression vanished when he exited the car and patted down the light jacket. Gavin swore that LED changed to yellow for a millisecond there and grinned. ‘What? Didn’t thought I had expensive stuff?’ ‘It’s good to see you heeded my call and dressed for the occasion.’ Had that just been the android equivalent of telling him he looked nice? Gavin felt his cheeks heating up again and walked up to the entrance instead of answering. ‘Shall we go in, then?’

Nines looked good, too. He had exchanged the Cyberlife-jacket for a long black coat, fitting perfectly with black dress pants, polished shoes and a spot of colour added by a thirium-blue scarf. Although there was the stupid turtleneck underneath, Gavin couldn’t say anything bad about the droid’s appearance. Quite the opposite was true. They entered, Nines dropping the scarf and coat to stack it neatly away in an offered cupboard and waiting to take Gavin’s jacket too. Caught off-guard Gavin scrambled to take it off and hand it over, as they were saved by a waiter to show them to their table. Finally, Gavin got his head out of his ass enough to return the compliment: ‘You look fine, too, toa- Nines.’

Damn, come on, Gavin, this is an investigation, dumbass. Play your role! But before they could get on with any of the fake-couple talk, they were both given cards, quite useless for Nines, but he accepted it politely, pretending to look into it, while Gavin suppressed a ‘Holy shit’ as he looked at the prizes. Nines shifted one hand on the menu and showed him his palm discretely. Take anything. The DPD covers the expenses, it’s an investigation after all. Now, that was something Gavin liked to hear, and he grinned like the asshole he was underneath the layers of fancy he wore today. They ordered their horribly overprized meals. Nines could even be persuaded into trying something thirium-based they desperately tried to push on the market now to get the most of their new fellow citizens.

Then they waited and Gavin still wrestled with the horrifying thought they would have to actually have a conversation now that didn’t involve work. It was becoming even more terrifying as Nines looked at him in a way he sure as hell shouldn’t. He had leaned forwards, head gently resting on an elbow and the other hand toying with the tablecloth. But these eyes. Fuck, the idiot hadn’t watched some romance flicks in preparation, had he? And shit, Gavin couldn’t even do anything against it without blowing their cover. ‘I’m so happy you agreed to this’, the android told him in the worst, most sappy and love-sick voice imaginable. ‘I’ve been waiting months to finally go out with you.’ Fuck, this was a blush he couldn’t hide, why body, why? ‘Yeah, me too.’ That earned him a sharp kick under the table and wincing Gavin added: ‘But work got in the way the last few times, I’m sorry… my love.’ Oh god, that was awful, Gavin hoped to get his food soon and be able to keep it down once eaten.

Nines was smiling and it was borderline creepy knowing the reserved android at work. ‘How are the cats?’ Oh thank phck the android threw him a bone. ‘Good, actually.’ Wait, when had he told the tin-can he had… ‘They are dipshhhh’ He coughed. His normal self probably wasn’t appropriate here… ‘tipsy as always. Have I told you of the time she tried to jump on the couch but didn’t make it and fell, looking confused as ph- looking really confused?’ Oh thank god, he could talk about his cats for hours and could at least focus on something else than the damn tin-can giving him the most obvious heart-eyes in history until he was interrupted by the waiter bringing them their food. Well Gavin his food and Nines a weird blue mush that looked like a science experiment crossbreeding mashed potatoes and jello gone horribly wrong. But, because this was a fancy restaurant, it was decorated with all sorts of stuff that wasn’t edible for both humans and androids. It was the first time that evening that the real Nines resurfaced as he looked at the “food” as if this had been a personal offense. But nonetheless he took a bite and it seemed to surprise him.

He looked back up to him, and there was this horrible smile again. The android exploited the fact that he was occupied with chewing and eating and continued talking. ‘That’s what I love about you. You are so passionate!’ It took all his will and luck to not choke on the bit and he believed to be just as red as his phcking tomato-sauce. But oh damn, this was the prelude to one of these cutesy back-and-forths, wasn’t it? He struggled for words and hid it under chewing and swallowing. Then he set up a smile by himself and leaned in, too. ���Aw come on, babe, there’s nothing I’m more passionate about than you.’ Oh god, this was torture. Let Nines take over, damn, just play along. He wouldn’t even say stuff like this would he really have a mad crush on the android, which he had not! Definitely not. Just normal colleagues, yes. Now continue eating.

He wanted to reach for a tissue, but Nines had other plans. Quicker than he could see, the android had covered his hand with his own and Gavin froze, locking eyes with him and putting his most hateful stare in it he could conjure. Except wow, this was actually not that bad. No sweat, just the texture and consistency of normal skin. Until the damn tin-can took it a step further and retracted it. Immediately it changed to a cold contact, but not unpleasant and damn, Gavin could get accustomed to that- No! No, this was just for a case, Gavin remember.

Gavin managed to concentrate on the food, playing along to Nines who took over the evening, praising him and talking about normal-people’s banter, peppering it with affectionate gestures wherever possible. And Gavin managed to never flinch away. By the time they got to dessert, he had adapted and a few parts of him had stopped screaming at him. It was a nice evening, all things considered. Good food - good free food - a nice ambience and hell, although none of his fantasies with Nines involved eating at a restaurant, this sure was pleasant.

The android had even gotten a laugh out of him. Damn, Gavin really had lost his internal battle. Hopefully Nines didn’t notice he wasn’t just playing his role here. As they were finally finished, Nines paid by interfacing with the android waiter and helped Gavin up, his hand loosely remaining on his hip on their way out. He even helped him into his jacket before putting on his own clothes and tied his scarf around Gavin’s neck. The hell? But Gavin wasn’t really able to protest. Not only because this was still an investigation, the food added with a few glasses of light alcohol had made him sluggish and warm, feeling content all over.

Nines stayed close and led him away from the parking lot. ‘Hey, Nines, my car’s there, shouldn’t we take…’ ‘Let’s go for a walk, Gav. I heard it is good for a human’s digestion. Also, I have my own reasons’, he added with a smirk. ‘And they would be?’ ‘The moon is high tonight, it frames you well.’ He openly smiled at him and pulled him closer. ‘I’m simply admiring the view. It isn’t often we have the time to be together outside of work.’ Gavin blushed again but oh, this closeness was reeeally nice and damn, the android had just called him beautiful again. Without noticing it, Gavin snuggled deeper into the touch, brushing the thought away that he dearly needed an excuse ready when this whole charade ended. He giggled at himself as he pulled his phone out. ‘Don’t you dare’, came the hissed warning from beside him, but Gavin ignored it. ‘Selfie time!’

He only shot one, but that was enough. As he wanted to send it to Tina for future blackmail, he realised it wasn’t just the two of them visible: There was a third party behind them, someone they knew well enough for recognition. ‘Shit, duck!’ He pushed Nines in the back, although that hadn’t any effect. But the android reacted simultaneously. Both spun around, Nines lurched at their pursuer afterwards and Gavin had his pistol out from where it had been hidden in his jacket. ‘Phck, the waiter?’, he cried out as Nines was on top of the android and pinned him to the ground. ‘Phck, Nines, the food! Was it poisoned?’ ‘No, Gavin.’ ‘Your mushy shit? Had it a virus?’ ‘No.’ ‘How can you be sure?’ Nines groaned as an answer, repositioning the struggling bot and pulled out a small pistol and a knife out. ‘I think this is enough evidence, as the victims were killed by stab wounds and blood loss, not poison. Also, this knife had been thoroughly cleaned before.’ ‘Shit, okay, you have him? I’m gonna call this in!’

Half an hour later, the waiter was driven off, not with a last ‘You are sick, androids and humans don’t belong together!’ Gavin courtly answered with two middle fingers risen high in the air. Then he turned, only to see the android that followed his example, even if not as enthusiastically. Gavin gaped at him until he dropped his arms and asked: ‘What?’ ‘Nothing’, Gavin murmured bewildered. ‘He is an asshole. If anyone deserves it it’s him. Your behaviour was appropriate.’ ‘Yeah, but you acting like me? Ah, forget it never mind.’ He shook his head. Maybe he had rubbed off on the android more than he had initially thought. ‘Anyways, where did you got these mad theatre skills from?’ ‘I don’t understand.’ ‘Oh you do, come on. In there. The fake-dating stuff?’ ‘Oh. Although exaggerated greatly the message was intended.’ ‘Excuse me?’ ‘I meant what I said, Gavin.’ ‘You- You are kidding me, right?’ ‘No.’ The android’s posture got more rigid and the casual feeling the evening had ended in started to fade. ‘Should I? You seemed to enjoy it after some time adapting.’ ‘Holy shit.’

‘So…’ It sounded terribly self-conscious now. ‘Should we continue our little walk?’ Gavin looked at the leaving officers that ignored them for what it was worth. Hell, he had accepted it over the course of the evening. Maybe he should step out of his own way this time… Just try it out. What could go wrong, really? He smiled barely visible. ‘Yeah, why not. I mean, if the moonlight frames me right… who am I to deprive you of the view?’

This time it was on Nines to blush.

[thatfairyfangirl]

Part Of That World Chapter 8

Your eyes lingered on Bucky’s muscles glistening under the lights of the training room as Nat’s foot landed in your stomach. “Ughf.” It didn’t exactly hurt, but it definitely wasn’t comfortable as you landed on the mat. 

“You alright?” Nat asked short of breath as she lowered herself down to you, following her friend’s eyes to the former assassin sparing with Steve on the other side of the room before giving you a knowing smirk. “You seem a little distracted.”

“No I don’t...No I’m not. I uhh, I just had some hair in my eyes.” You protested as you pushed your blond and aqua hair from your face. 

“Mm hmm sure.” She said as she turned to the super soldiers. “Hey Steve, I need a break, what do you say to a coffee run?”

“Sure. Buck can you work with (Y/n) while we’re gone?” He turned to you, letting out a sigh as he watched your eyes sadden at the thought of being stuck training with him. “The more practice you get with those knives the better. Plus,” he turned to Bucky, “you getting some action against her harpoon might not be a bad idea either.”

The two of you just stood awkwardly as you were left alone for the first time since the halloween party. “So...Should we maybe talk about-”

“No.” You said sharply as you reached for the knives Steve had given you. “Let's just get this over with.”

“Alright…” He sighed as he readied to spar. “It’s just,” he dipped to the side to dodge the slash of your knife, “I’ve been wondering...” he dipped to the other side as you slashed again with enough firosity to make him think you might actually be trying to hurt him. “Did you know it was me?”

“Of course not!” You snapped as you both traded blows. “That was my one chance to get to know some people as an equal, you really think I would have wasted it on you?” 

As you attempted to punch him he grabbed your hand with his bionic arm, then the next with the other. “It’s just, Wizard of Oz is such an old film...Hell, it was the last movie I went to see before the accident. Is that really your favorite movie?” 

“Yes.” You replied as you attempted to pull your hands free. “Me and Great Aunt Pearl used to watch it all the time back in Maine. It reminds me of my childhood.” As you stood there at a stalemate he found himself looking into your eyes, heart racing. He thought about how the mystery girl from the party made his heart skip a beat with just a smile. How could this be the same girl?

~ ~ ~ ~

With a sigh you settled into your usual reading spot by the window looking down onto the streets below, barely colored with the few leaves in the city changing their colors. “Pretty isn’t it.” Bucky said with a half smile as he came close to admire the view of Central Park off in the distance.  

“It’s alright. But Maine this time of year is breathtaking. I’m thinking about going for a visit.” You said as you set Return of the King down.

“You’re still reading that book? Didn’t you start it over the summer?” Bucky half teased as he came to lean against the window.

You looked up to the ocean blue of his eyes, still finding it hard to believe this was the guy you had such a good time with at the party. As he leaned over you, you realized just how intoxicating his musk could be. He smelled just like he did the night of the party. “No, that was Fellowship. This is the third one.” You explained as you stood, worming out from between him and the window.

“Hey you two!” Steve called from down the hall, on his way to their rooms to look for them. “Shield came up with a lead on a possible Hydra base in the Rocky Mountains. Think you two can play nice long enough for a recon mission?” You both looked to each other before nodding. “Good, suit up.”

~ ~ ~ ~

You and Bucky let the auto nav system fly the quinjet as he did a last minute inspection on his guns and you did some last minute testing on your h2o condenser gauntlets. “So...Maine? Any plans for while you’re there?” 

“You mean outside of being away from you?" He couldn't help noticing much less disdain for him in your voice as you spoke. "Oh not much, maybe visit the marina dad kept his houseboat in.”

“You should go. It might help you cope with stuff.” He offered lightly as he prepared his weapons. 

You raised a brow as you looked over to him, the black leather of his uniform mingling perfectly with the metal of his arm and the dark tendrils of hair dancing over his shoulders. “What is this? What are you doing?” You asked suspiciously as you pulled your hair back into a tight bun, realizing you were close to your target. 

“It’s called being nice. You should try it sometime.” He answered with a smirk before the cabin of the quintet shook violently. "Shit!" He exclaimed as you both tumbled toward each other, arms reaching out instinctively to steady yourselves against the other. "The hell was that?!"

"You act like you've never been fired at before." Your eyes darted around the cabin. "Friday, get us out of the air!" The computer's voice was little more than static but she did as requested. 

"Well...so much for recon mission…" Bucky half chuckled  handing you your harpoon.

~ ~ ~ ~

Though the jet had been shot at you were glad to see it landed in one piece before managing to sneak your way inside. But, what you found in there definitely left you less than thrilled… The facility hidden deep within the mountains held a large tank, thankfully empty. But what sent the worst chill down your spine was the sheets of paper covered in sketches of Atlantean biology and calculations for just how much water they would need and how much sedation would be effective. "I think I'm going to be sick." You scoffed as you pieced together that what you found was a research facility and test lab for a crossbreeding program.

Bucky nodded in agreement, his eye not once leaving the scope of his gun, aim constantly moving, ready to shoot down anyone who stumbled on them. But no one did...the place seemed to be deserted. "I don't like this. We should have ran in to trouble by now."

Your eyes scoured the room. As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. "There has to be someone here...who shot at the jet?" You asked as you searched for any clues.

"Might have been an automated security system." He answered as he continued to look around. Spotting a map Bucky lowered his scope, a deep sense of dread growing in his gut. The map had colored pen marks  in seemingly random points in the oceans. But one spot he recognized...where they found you. "Hey...what do you make of this?"

Your eyes looked up from a journal filled with notes before you stepped closer. "Oh good god… " you muttered, recognizing each pinpoint as a different settlement colony. "How did they find them?" You asked in a worried breath before reaching up to tear the map off the wall.

~ ~ ~ ~

“So uhh...we have a problem.” Bucky announced with a scrunched brow as he turned back to face you.

“Oh god what?” You groaned as you came to lean over him at the cockpit. The gold and blue of your hair danced over his shoulders as your head dropped in defeat seeing the black screen that was supposed to be showing a map as you realized the hit you took on the way in knocked out the auto nav systems. "So? I thought you knew how to fly this thing?"

“And what good will that do if I don't know what way to point it?” Bucky's words spat out as he gave the computer a frustrated hit. You both knew well enough neither of you knew how to fix it. "Looks like you get that vacation you were wanting."

“Just radio the team for help.” You suggested, already annoyed with this as you reached for the com set. Nothing but static. “Oh you've got to be kidding.” You shouted as you threw the headset. “FUCK!”

“It's not so bad. They'll figure out something's wrong and come looking for us in a day or so.” Bucky offered as he got up searching the jet for the emergency rations.

“How well are you adapted to the cold?” You asked folding your arms, interjecting a healthy dose of reality into Bucky's unfounded optimism. “We are in the mountains in the autumn. As soon as the sun goes down it's going to start getting colder.” You informed him. “Get your priorities straight Buck.” You added before leaving the jet, disappearing into the wilderness.

Hours later you returned with a pile of wood kneeling down in the clearing the jet landed in. Bucky watched as you got a fire going. “How does a mermaid know how to do that?” He wondered out loud as he emerged with the blankets he found.

“Atlantean. And I didn't always live in the water… Dad loved to go camping a lot when I was a kid.” You explained as you took the blanket to wrap around you. Sitting by the fire your eyes drifted up to see the stars beginning to come alive in the mountain sky. Realizing how long it had been since you've seen them you let out a long sigh, studying each point of light.

“Man that's really something amazing.” He said referring to the soft smile and starlight twinkling in against your face as he sat beside you, leaning back on the blanket. It was nice to see you looking at peace for once.

With a growing smile you leaned back as well, your fingertips brushing slightly against his as your hand landed in the plush grass.  “Yeah...I've spent so much time in the water I almost forgot how beautiful they were.” You reached up with your other hand pointing to a cluster of stars. “That one is called puppis. It was always my dad’s favorite, he named his fishing boat after it.”

“Puppis? Why would you name a boat that?” He asked with a raised brow.

“Its part of a cluster that makes up the Argo. Its this ship from Greek Myth. Dad called it the impossible ship. The constellation moves westward but it sails stern first.” He watched your eyes go wide as you spoke. “Oh my god I'm an idiot!” you announced as you jumped up, the blanket fluttering from your shoulders.

“No objections here." He chuckled, watching you put the fire out with your powers. "Didn't you just get that going?”

“Yeah but I can get us home!” You explained as you scooped the blankets up.

“Did you suddenly remember Tony showing you how to fix the nav system?” He asked with a raised brow.

“Why? We have a working nav system.” You pointed upward. What sailor can't navigate by the stars? Once back on the jet he watched you slip into the co-pilot' seat as you helped direct him back to New York as you both sailed through the stars.

[melyaliz]

The Eyes of a Falcon

Fandom: DC / Young Justice 

Summary: Jennifer’s new obsession leads her to an animal testing lab where she meets a new friend. 

Pairing: slight Dick Grayson x Oc

Notes: This is just a fun story during the origin of my OC Jennifer O’Neal aka the Falcon.

Jennifer’s Masterlist 

References to this story 

Annabella is owned by @the-shadow-of-atlantis

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive​

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

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Ping

Jennifer glanced up from her reading to pick up her phone. Alfred’s name popping up. 

I’m almost there

Glancing at the library clock Jennifer realized it was close to closing. Better get checked out and meet Alfred outside. Gathering up everything the brunette quickly darted toward the front coliding with a tall man in a dark suit. Letting out a soft squeek Jennifer dropped her books everywhere. 

“Oh excuse me,” Jennifer said bending down picking up her books. The man watched her, Jennifer could feel his eyes studying as she gathered her things. 

“You look familiar” 

“Oh,” Jen said getting up confused,

“Are you a performer?” 

“No, but my mother was a dancer about 14 years ago, Deborah Wayne?” 

“You look just like her… but... “ He paused leaning forward slightly studying her face. Jennifer bent backward trying to get a little distance from the man. Personal space buddy, “You must have your father’s eyes.” 

Blinking slightly Jennifer frowned. She had been heard several times how much she looked like her mother. But, her father’s eyes were hazel while Jennifer’s were a blue-green color. Maybe he meant the shape? 

“Well thank you,” Jennifer stammered taking a slight step back giving herself a bit of room between her and this man in his crisp black suit. In her pocket buzzed with a text coming through. Glancing down she saw a text from Alfred letting her know he was outside ready to pick her up. “My ride is here… but it was nice to meet you Mr--” She paused waiting for him to give his name full intent to run a background check on this man with no sense of personal boundaries. Perks of having Batman as an uncle.  

“Nice to meet you too little Miss Deborah Wayne.” The man in the black suit said holding out his hand. 

Deciding to also not give any information either Jennifer shook his hand before talking out. 

“You know most people sit in the back,” Alfred said as Jennifer slid into the front seat next to her uncle’s butler. 

“Yeah but then I can’t talk to you,” she said placing her books by her feet before buckling in. 

“Was it a success?” 

“Very much so, got all the books I’ll need for my phycology paper and a few on cybersecurity  also…” she bent down pulling up Le Miserables “the movie comes out next year so I want to brush up.” 

“Sounds like you have a few days of reading ahead of you.”

“Just in time with everyone gone.” Jennifer chuckled flipping through the large novel excited to go home and start it. “It’s just you and me this weekend Alfred. We should order pizza and have a full sleepover.”

“I was thinking maybe some nigiri?” 

“Alfred! Did you hear me mention that I was missing my local shop in Japan?” 

“I may have” 

“I guess the pizza could wait one day.” 

Glancing up Jennifer caught sight of herself in the reflection of the window. Frowning she reached up pulling down the small sun visor mirror catching the reflection of her eyes looking back at her. Bright blue with hints of green. Slightly oval in shape with thick dark lashes that matched her brown hair. 

“Something wrong miss?” Alfred asked as the teen next to him frowned at her reflection. 

“No,” Jennifer said closing the visor turning to look out the window as they approached the mansion. “Just got lost in thought about how excited I am for that nigiri.”  

------

Jennifer flipped through the books while typing out notes on her laptop on the kitchen island while Alred prepared their dinner. While, as Alfred had pointed out, she could probably get more work done at her desk or even in the -newly found- Batcave Jennifer preferred to study with other people around. It made her feel just a little less alone. 

“I thought you had a psychology paper?” Alfred said glancing down at the book on DNA and human expiration.

“Yeah, well…” Jennifer paused glancing sheepishly up at Alfred, “I just needed a few more questions answered for… another class.”

“I don’t remember you taking anything medical-related.” 

“I…” Jennifer felt her face heat up and tears fight back behind her eyes. Stupid don’t CRY! She wasn’t sure if it was from the memories of Ryan coming back. The body of that little boy laying slumped over in his closet…

NO STOP IT.

“Jennifer…” Alfred’s voice was soft as he reached out touching Jennifer’s hand, “There wasn’t anything else you could have done.” 

“I know,” Jennifer said choaking back a few wet laughs trying to push off the rush of feelings. “It’s more, I’m interested in this rise of Meta’s and.” she glanced at her books than back at the screen “Call it a hobby.”

“Maybe it’s a Wayne trait.” Alfred said more to himself than her, “To become a little obsessed with your hobbies.” 

“Yeah, maybe it’s just written in my DNA” 

--------------------------

“Wow we were gone like four days and it looks like your room exploded,” Annabella said as she came into her cousin’s room. Books and papers lay all over the floor like a huge map. A rainbow of sticky notes covering everything.  

“Hey Zen! Glad to be back?”

“I guess,” Annabella said looking around the room for a moment before turning to her cousin. 

“Did Dick get the stuff I sent him?” 

“Yeah, I think? How come you are just helping him and didn’t just join the team?”

“Alfred has better food?”  Jennifer said laughing as Annabella bent down catching the glimpse of a picture of some kittens. 

“What are you doing anyway?” 

“Research.”

“On Selina?” the young Wayne asked holding up a picture of Selina Kyle dressed up in her leather Catwoman outfit.

“You know her?” Jennifer asked feeling a rush of excitement. “She’s been at a few of these labs that do animal DNA testing and… I’ve been trying to figure out why.”

“She’s very into animal rights, almost too much sometimes.” Annabella said, “used to date dad and she was always nice to me.” 

“Kinky,” Annabella frowned and Jennifer quickly caught herself “I mean… interesting. Anyway, could we talk to her?” 

“Sure why not.”   

----

Finding Selina was harder than Zen had let on. Apparently, if Seilna didn’t want to be found while on her animal crusade she wasn’t going to be. But then again, did Jennifer really need to find her to ask what the labs were really up to when you could wear a mask and call yourself Animal-gender? 

Ok, that’s not really fair, Robin wasn’t Robin boy… but still. BatMAN and CatWOMAN had dated.  For some reason Jennifer was getting a bigger kick out of that then she really should. 

“That’s Dick’s bike.”

“Zen!?! How long have you been there?” Jennifer asked turning to her cousin 

“I followed you down, you were really lost in thought. Also, what’s with the mask? Are you going out? Are you going to the Young Justice? Can I come?” 

“No, I’m breaking into a lab and don’t want anyone to know it’s me and I’m pretty sure uncle will kill me if you come.” 

“Do you even know how to break into a lab?” 

“Dick’s been showing me some stuff.” 

“Do you like him?” 

Jennifer paused, where did that come from? Yes, she liked everyone, she was a people person, she liked lots of people. Plus it helped that Dick liked to show off so just a few “wow can you show me how to hack into a quantum level security system” with a few batting eyelashes could get you very far. 

“I like Dick but not the way you are insulating.”

“I think you’re wrong.” 

“Ok” 

“So can I come?” 

“To the lab?” Jennifer sighed thinking it over, I mean uncle let her hang out with the teen league. Plus being alone in that creepy animal lab… did sound a little scary. 

“Sure, you have your own bike I’m assuming.” 

“Of course” 

------------

“These… I have never felt Animals like these” Annabella frowned as she walked through the cages while Jennifer scrolled through the files downloading the ones that seemed like the information she was looking for. 

“What do you mean?” Jennifer asked her cousin glancing up for a moment. From one of the cages, a large Falcon watched her. He was so still, his yellow eyes making eye contact with him. Almost like he was listening to her. 

Ok weird. 

“I don’t know how to explain it” Annabella mumbled, “Like… some of them I can’t hear.”

Jennifer glanced at the bird again, his eyes flickering from her to the girl then back at her, “Which ones?” 

“Those Rats are faint and… Annabella glanced at the bird who was now looking at her. Body so still for a moment he looked stuffed. “Him too.” 

Quickly Jennifer did a search on F-22d19. Files and videos popped up. Her eyes scanning through it “oh… my… god…” 

“What?” Annabella asked turning from a cage where a few puppies were sitting. One of them licking her fingertip. 

“This place is way more than animal testing… these findings… they are from humans. Crossbreeding and meta geans. This place is super low level but…” Jennifer paused clicking deeper in her eyes flickering to the Flacon in his cage. The bird’s head leading forward slightly. Their eyes met and it nodded. Like it noded. 

It fucking knew what was going on. 

Jennifer felt goosebumps running up her legs as she downloaded the information. 

“Annabella? Annabella?” 

“Oh shit it’s Dick,” Annabella said cluching her earpiece. 

“Oh hey, Dick.” 

“Why is my motorcycle outside KOLE Bio Lab?” 

“It’s a long story.”

“One I feel like your father would like to hear about.” 

Both girls looked up to see Selina Kyle standing in the doorway. Arms folded over her chest.  

“Selina!” the younger girl launched herself at the leather-clad woman hugging her. 

“Catwoman…”

“And who are you?” Selina asked pointing to Jennifer as she hugged Annabella back.

“Just another curious cat?” Jennifer said flashing her a weak smile hoping the woman would appreciate some cat humor.  

“What’s going on? Jen are you here too?” Dick’s voice sounded over the headsets. Jennifer bit her lip trying to stay calm. 

“Well if you stick around that curiosity is going to kill you, I am about to set this place a light. Just need to let these little babies free.”

“Are there more?” Annabella asked. 

“Three other rooms, this place is just where they keep the recent experiments. The homes and I use that term loosely, are down the hall.”

“I’ll help!” Annabella said, “I can keep them calm.”

“Give me 10 more minutes?” Jennifer asked biting her lip knowing she was asking a lot from a woman she had only just met.”

“Make it 5, I don’t trust boy wonder out there.” 

“Robin’s outside?” 

“Saw him riding up when I got here.”

“Shit ok, I’ll hurry.” 

Nodding Selina and Annabella dashed off to free the animals leaving Jennifer to finish her work. 

“Robin?” 

“Yeah?” he sounded annoyed

“I’m sorry but… can you just wait there? We are coming.” 

“Why are you in there Jen? What is going on?”

“Nothing.” Jennifer lied as she quickly dragged a few more files onto her hard drive. 

“Don’t look at me like that?” she said to the falcon as he came closer to the bars giving her a rather judgy look. “I’m letting you and everyone else out I promise.” a simple nod and the started circling his cage, antsy.  

“Is someone there?” Dick asked shit that’s right he could hear her.

“Just another bird boy, he may even be cuter than you.” 

Dick laughed at that, “I doubt it. What, you think I’m cute?”

“Sure, objectivly you’re a good looking guy.” 

“Uhhh thanks, your good looking too… objectively.”

Jennifer was about to respond when the alarm went off. REALLY? It had only been two minutes. 

“Really Catwoman! I’m telling your boyfriend.” 

“Jen, What's going on? Did you just say Catwoman?” 

“No time.”   

“Shoot!” Jennifer moaned as the animals started freaking out in their cages. Lights flashing and… did she smell smoke? “Shoot!” Jennifer said getting up. How was she supposed to open these doors? And Dick’s constant questions in her ear wasn’t helping. Pulling out the ear peice she put it in her back pocket with her harddrive.

“How do we get out?” Jennifer asked turning to the falcon. I mean he already acted like he knew it all. However, all she got was a screech large wings flapping. 

Think Jen Think….

Then she saw it. How could she have missed it? A panel on the wall with numbers on it. A string of keys and a switch. 

Quickly she grabbed the keys flipping the switching praying it was that easy. 

Come on.

And it was. 

The doors swung open animal escaping in a frenzy all of them seemed to be gathering around her. Quickly she dashed through the cages picking up any animals that would hurt themselves if they lept from the higher cages. All of them rushing toward the door the moment their feet hit the ground. 

All but a small white kitten who’s little claws clung to her hissing at the sight of the laminated floor. 

“Fine princess,” Jennifer mumbled tucking the kitten under her arm as she quickly trying to doge the animals as she reached the door fliting it open.

“Let’s go!” she screamed running down the hall grabbing a fire extinguisher as she ran, her small army of lab animals after her. 

The large falcon at her side flying next to her its screeches like a battle cry. 

----------

“Where’s Jen?” Robin asked his sister as she came running up Selina in tow. The whole lab alight with activity. Catwoman laughed turning to her handy work. 

“Worried your girlfriend can’t keep up?”

“You just left her in there?” 

“She should be fine…” Annabella said her tone less sure than her words. 

A Large crash came from the large bay window about a yard away from them, the second floor.

 “Viva La Revolution!” Jennifer’s voice cried following the shattered glass as she flew out landing, surprisingly gracefully, on the emerald grass below. Animals swarming around her, rushing toward freedom. Mice, rabbits, and even dogs rushing past her like a small army dashing off in every direction toward their freedom. 

Slowly the brunette stood, a swarm of birds flying around her before taking flight into the night sky. 

All but one. 

The large falcon gently floated down landing in her open gloved hands. It nodded it’s large head at her as if thanking his savior. Then spreading his wings he took flight. The momentum of his motion making her long brown hair fly out as if she too had wings. 

As if she too could fly away into a crystal filled sky. Join them, free from the cages that held them. The pain, that needless pain, that kept them chained to the ground.

To fly away as free as a bird. 

The sight was unlike anything Dick had ever seen. In that moment he didn’t even recognize the girl. It was as if at that moment she transformed into someone… something else. 

“Woah” 

“You’re girlfriend's something else.”

“She’s not… never mind, You ok?” Dick asked walking toward Jennifer who turned to him blinking as if she had just woken from a dream. 

“I…”

“Meow” 

“Kitty!” Annabella squealed dashing toward the little animal. It took one look at her and ducked back into Jennifer’s jacket pocket. Jennifer couldn’t help but laugh.

“Princess didn’t want to run with the others so I had to carry her,” she told her cousin fingers stroking the soft white fur. 

In the distance, the sound of sirens could be heard.

“And that’s my cue” Catwoman said giving the kids a little salute before running off into the night with the other free animals.  

“We should go,” Dick said nodding toward their bikes. “Will you be able to ride with the cat?” 

“I think I can keep up.” 

“Cool.” 

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[eotheria]

The World of Eotheria According to Lady Valentine

Part 12: Orcs

Orcs have been a staple of Eotheria since the later parts of the First Age, and would be little more than a minor annoyance to all involved if not for their stubborn refusal to stay down. Every attempt at wiping out the orcs has only led to them coming back, stronger than ever. Even the Kordran Empire have been unsuccessful in fully eradicating the orcs of southern Suvitha. Even though they’re not considered a threat to the goblinoids down there, that’s actually quite impressive. The only thing that truly keeps the orcs from becoming a threat is their propensity to make war with each other as often as they make war with other races, along with their primitive, uncivilized nature. Because of their barbarism and their propensity to violence, it is easy to dismiss them as unintelligent brutes. In reality, orcs do have intelligence; it’s just that their morals and customs are so different from ours that it’s hard to tell. Indeed, many orcs find us unintelligent morons. How quaint.

Origins

The orcs first appeared in the underworld of Eotheria roughly a thousand years before the end of the First Age. Exactly what race the orcs are derived from is unknown, though two theories seem to hold the most weight. The first is that they were once elves, corrupted by some dark power into the hulking brutes you now know and hate. The second is that they are a type of unseelie fey that slipped into Eotheria when the barrier between Feywild and the material world was at its weakest, much like hags and trolls. If this is true, then they are among the weakest of fey, having none of the magical power of hags or supernatural regeneration of trolls. Needless to say, elves of all types vehemently deny both of these theories. I don’t see why; every race has its subjects they don’t like to talk about, but most of them don’t put their hands over their ears and sing “La, La, La, I can’t hear yoooou!” at the top of their lungs at the mere suggestion of it.

Early in the Second Age, groups of orcs began to split off from the underworld and migrate to the surface. These surface orcs ultimately became a separate subspecies of orc. They are green skinned and better suited to the light of the sun, whereas those that remained underground have gray skin and are ill-suited to sunlight, but have a much keener darkvision. They loathe each other, seeing the other subrace as fake orcs. The gray orcs hate the green orcs for straying away from how their gods made them, while the green orcs see gray orcs as weaklings who hide in their caves rather than thriving on the surface. The Cataclysm has only made relations between the two worse, as like most subterranean races, the gray orcs were forced out of the underworld by the coming of Malenom, and the green orcs were more than happy to invite them to the surface in the way they best knew: through bloodshed.

There honestly isn’t much more that I can say about orcs on a historical level than that. They don’t keep records of their accomplishments. They do not build great empires that stand the test of time. They tell no stories of great orcish heroes, dominant orcish clans, or defining moments in orc history. They simply do not care. All orcs care about is the concrete reality of the moment; the orcs care not about what they were, but what they are and what they plan to become.

A Culture of War

Orcs have a rather rigid sense of gender roles, but hold both men and women in equal standing. Male orcs are warriors, hunters, and laborers. Female orcs are spiritual leaders, managers, caretakers, and protectors. Unusually, orcs have absolutely no concept of men or women being anything else but their defined roles, even among other races. The idea of, for instance, a human woman being a warrior is alien to them. The reaction orcs have to such varies between suggesting that the woman is a protector of sorts to guard her home when the men are away (as orc women often do) to confusion to discomfort to simply referring to the woman as a man. Insensitive, yes, but innocently so. Does tend to cause some problems when you bring a male dwarf priest with a full beard into the mix, though. Orc clans are led by a male warchief, though the highest ranking female shaman is held in equally high regard, if not more so. 

While the orcs have many rules, one stands above all others: “might makes right”. Orc warchiefs are selected through ritualistic combat, and any male orc can challenge the current warchief at any moment for rule of the clan. These ritual battles are not required to be to the death, but many of them end up that way, particularly if a warchief wants to make an example of someone so that the next young, ambitious orc will be thinking about his turn to make the challenge. Similarly, crime is resolved through trial by combat. As before, these battles are not required to be to the death, but that’s more of a guideline than a rule. 

In fact, it is this attitude that causes the various orc clans to war with one another. Orcs have no concept of private property. They simply take what they want by force, whether from orcs or other races. And if someone has a problem with that? Well, they’d better be strong enough to stop them. And this is why orc raids are so common. When you’re an orc everything else looks squishy. This is also why they have very poor relationships with other races.  Despite all of this, orcs do have a code of honor that they follow. They never take from others in excess, they do not harm those who are obviously not combatants, such as women and children, and they despise trickery and ambushes in combat. Where most races will put a knife in your back at the first opportunity, an orc will always fight you face to face.

It is not impossible to make peace with orcs. If you prove yourself stronger than an orc, they will respect you as such, and this respect carries over to nations of other races. Of course, by that time the people that they have been raiding for a long time will have had just about enough of their shit and will often tell them to fuck off, but orc alliances are not unknown. The nations of Kresnik and Ledo both held alliances with various orc clans over the years, though they tended to fall apart after a generation shift, when the younger orcs got the idea to ‘test’ their relatives to see if they were still worthy of their respect.

Orcs and Other Races

Orcs have poor relations with most races due in part to their many raids and their unusual way of thinking. They see dwarves as weak and greedy creatures who rely on machines rather than their own strength. The fact that the dwarves fled the Aesir Mountains has not improved their opinion of them any. Dwarves, for their part, see the orcs as little better than Kordran. Elves are long lived and not to be trusted. An elf will say one thing and then generations later tell you the opposite. Or they’ll just stick a knife in your back. Elves themselves find orcs absolutely abhorrent and want nothing to do with them, and were not above slaughtering entire clans of orcs simply because they looked ugly. They consider halflings and gnomes small children without drive or ambition; they do know about the Corrindale halflings, but the official word among orcs as that those halflings are not halflings, but another race entirely. Much like how orcs have no concept of women being warriors, they have no concept of halflings being anything but simple farmers. They consider kobolds cowards, as they never fight face to face and instead wipe out raiding parties with elaborate traps and cheap tactics, while kobolds find orcs to be thick headed idiots who never learn not to leave them alone. 

Of all the races in Eotheria, orcs get along with humans the most favorably. Human nations have always been strong enough to hold back the tide of the orcish hordes, and humans have always been the most likely to take a diplomatic approach. This doesn’t stop orcs from finding humans confusing, or the inevitable culture clash. They’re confused as to why there are so many human kingdoms and why the humans seem so diverse in appearance, culture, and attitude, when orcs are, by and large, the same no matter where you find them. Humans and orcs are actually capable of crossbreeding. Half-orcs are rare, but not unknown. The stereotype is that they’re a product of the rape of a human woman, but in practice this rarely happens. The vast majority of half-orcs have half-orc parents themselves, and when a human and orc do mate, it is usually consensual. In fact, one of Adrian Kresnik’s lieutenants is a half orc whose father was a Kresnik diplomat and whose mother was the orcish head shaman that he wooed.

Orcs actually get along somewhat decently with dragonborn as well, though they find them very confusing. The dragonborn are strong indeed, and all attempts by the orcs to take the dragon city of Penacles have failed miserably. And despite this, the dragonborn never throw that strength around. They are a widely pacifistic people who do not start wars, though they could easily conquer much of Suvitha if they had the will to, or so the orcs theorize. The orcs of eastern Suvitha would call them weaklings if they did not have first hand knowledge otherwise.

However, of all of Eotheria’s races, there is none that the orcs fear more than the Kordran. On the surface, the goblinoids share many of the same ideals that the orcs do; a culture of strength and war, and rigidly defined roles for all of its citizens. However, orcs see the Kordran as a perversion of their ideals. Orcs will respect races that are stronger, or even of equal strength, to them, and do not kill needlessly even when they are stealing from others. The Kordran, however, have very little patience for orcs and their raids, and respond to their presence with vicious and terrible fury, sparing none, and slaughtering all. Entire clans have met their end at the blades of the Kordran, and the orcs give them a wide berth as a result.

Orc Religion

Orcs have many deities they give praise to. The chief deity of the orc pantheon is Ornok the All-Father, a god of war, battle, and storms. Also represented is Ornok’s wife and equal, Owi, a goddess of wisdom, protection, and medicine. Quite different in disposition, I would say, though given how seriously orcs take the stories of Ornok and Owi, it may explain their unusual cultural norms regarding gender. Indeed, orcs tell many stories of Ornok, despite his great strength, often turning to his wife for guidance. The two complement one another, as orcs believe men and women should.  It’s funny how orcs have little interest in keeping records of their past, but they have many, many legends of the orc pantheon. In fact, they have so many different gods that attempting to explain all of them would take up the entire length of this book. Regardless, these are the two most important of the orcish gods, and really the only ones you need to know about.

In the next chapter I will discuss the most mysterious race of all to walk on Eotheria: the warforged.

Special thanks to @5kindsofmagic and @askscarletrose for help with the orcs!

[pauldron-pieces]

Destrier Revel: Light And Home

Fandom: Dungeons And Dragons (5E)

Pairing: Destrier Revel/Illeria Stennas (F!NPC)

Rating: Holy shit tame.

AN: This is a hypothetical scenario featuring original characters in a world created by my Dungeon Master. As usual, this is non-canon and I own nothing aside from intellectual properties specifically attached to Destrier Revel. This installment is mechanically unsound in a multitude of ways and ignores certain important lore facets. Trigger warnings are listed inside. Enjoy!

Taglist: @sporadic-fics and @cookiethewriter!

Inspired By: Peder B. Helland: Bright Future

Destrier Revel’s Backstory: Burn The Wicked 

For Leofore

[Kulls are a monstrous race created by crossbreeding urgals and hill giants. They are the size of hill giants, with large tusks.]

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains emotional duress and doubt/self-worth issues. Stay safe!]

Thranrok had promised to meet him later that evening at Maplecrest, though Destrier had known the actual likelihood of that happening was incredibly slim. In the city around him the festivities carried on, civilians and nobles alike celebrating the safe return of the prince, queen and Leofore.

  It had been a very good night, and an even better day prior to that. 

  Revel's face was a bit sore from all the grinning he was doing, but it had been too long since he'd smiled so much. After all the grim events that had led up to this celebration, the months of doubt and self-loathing…

  He sighed, shaking his head at himself. It would do him no good to linger on such thoughts. Everything had worked out in the end, truly better than anyone could have anticipated.

  The blond man tarried a while outside Maplecrest, absentmindedly studying the familiar structure. He could recall when the inn had simply been a bar, back when he was nothing but a faceless squire in the king's army. That seemed like a lifetime ago now. 

  Destrier heaved another heavy sigh, undoing the stiff folds of his ascot. He should have known that Thranrok would be chest-deep in merrymaking, perhaps he should return to the castle as well-

  "Knight Revel?" 

  Illeria's voice startled him out of his staring contest with the ornate moulding over the door and he flinched, turning towards her. "Yes, Illeria?" 

  "What are you doing out here all alone?" She inquired, raising an eyebrow. Destrier's words escaped him for a moment. She always looked lovely to him, but she seemed to be especially so tonight. Whether it was the relief of returning alive or just a trick of the soft starlight overhead, Destrier found himself hard-pressed to take his eyes off of her. 

  Ganymethios and Leofore both had teased him relentlessly for his mooning , even while Thranrok begged for details, " strictly for research purposes, I'm reading another romance and I could really use a human's perspective. " It led to the knight's endeavors being tinged with wistful glances and foolish thoughts of presenting prodigious bouquets of roses. Gold, or perhaps vibrant orange to compliment her warm skin tone.

  "Thinking." Revel replied finally, flushing a little when he realized how long he had been gawking. "Memories are closer tonight, I fancy. I er, I was recalling our first meeting. The circumstances were...less than ideal."

  "To be fair, you and your battalion friends should not have upset my horse." She chuckled, giving his shoulder a light tap.

  Destrier cringed, recalling the racket his armor had made when the old Clydesdale donkey-kicked him through the barn door. And of course, what had transpired shortly while he laid on his back in the mud...

  The barn exploded outwards in a hail of splinters and clapboards. Squire Destrier, acting on instinct, grabbed the infuriated young woman's arm and yanked her down to the ground with him.

  A massive truss beam sailed by overhead and the bellowing call that followed threatened to shatter Destrier's eardrums. The woman, who moments before had been brandishing a truncheon and threatening to finish the job her horse had started, went still against his chest. "Goddess." She breathed. "What is that? "

  "Kull." Destrier whispered in reply, squinting through the rain to catch a glimpse of the hulking beast. He carefully tugged at the laces of his oilcloth cloak, sliding the durable fabric off over his head. "I need you to put this on." He instructed her, still keeping his voice soft. "Once I have gotten its attention, I need you to run."

  "Once you've what?! " She hissed even as she obediently pulled on the cloak. 

  "They have terrible eyesight but a keen nose. That cloak will mask your scent as well as your form." Destrier rolled to his feet, starting to scrape some of the mud off of his breastplate. The ground shook with the Kull's approaching footsteps. Where there was a Kull there were bound to be Urgal ground troops, though the longer legs of the ponderous brutes always outstripped their smaller kin. "Run to the barracks. Find Knight-Captain Leofore." 

  She tilted her head when she looked up at him, her eyes wide in the darkness. "But what will you do?"

  Squire Destrier, spotting two of his comrades struggling out from beneath the rubble of the stables, permitted himself to smile briefly. "I will distract the creature until aid comes. I am counting on you."

  Her hand squeezed his briefly before they parted...

  "What came afterwards though...it may sound nonsensical, but I am glad we decided to encroach upon your stable's hospitality that night. If the barracks had not been full-up of wounded, we might not have arrived until it was too late." Destrier mused, troubled by his vivid recollections.

  "True enough. I suppose I should be grateful for your breaking and entering?" Illeria teased back in the here and now, tilting her head when she looked up at him.

  Destrier's heart thudded painfully in his chest at the memory and he broke eye contact, clearing his throat. "Even if you are not, I am." 

  "Hm, I suppose I should be. After all, you and your friends brought me plenty of business over the years." Illeria allowed grudgingly. "Despite Thranrok always lighting the drapes on fire," She paused and gestured vaguely at her rebuilt stables, "I had coin-over to fix the barn up right, and expand Maplecrest into a proper inn."

  "Could have gotten a new plow horse." The knight suggested, only partially serious.

  "I should think not. He survived a Kull attack, after all! Few people can say that about their horses." She retorted proudly, fishing around in the many pockets of her ornate waistcoat until she found her keys. Beckoning the Knight-Captain to follow, she unlocked the heavy door and entered Maplecrest.

  Destrier tapped the lintel of the doorway as he passed beneath it, his fingers lingering on the carved insignia that had given the establishment its name. It depicted fans of samaras flanking a single, expertly-rendered maple leaf, and the lower half of the piece was worn a smooth honey-brown from locals touching it. Those who frequented the inn seemed to trust that it would bring luck or safety, and that was where Destrier had picked up the ritual. Every time he felt the sturdy maple leaf beneath his palm, he knew that he had returned.

  Home . He had been so bold before, taking her into his arms to all but admit his affections! He scolded himself roundly for it afterwards, blaming the relief of their return for his lapse of judgement and propriety. Believing that she had any sort of future with him was a fool's game, and there was no greater fool than Destrier Revel.

  Illeria busied herself with coaxing the embers of the common room fire to life, leaving Revel to light the lantern that graced the bar. He could feel her eyes on him as he leaned against the bar counter, but he chose to focus on the flicker of the lamp instead. 

  "So, Sir Knight Revel ." Illeria's inquisitive tone caught his attention and Destrier found that he was smiling unintentionally as he glanced up. Her gaze was thoughtful, more so than he had expected. "You are the King's Elite. As such, you are afforded certain liberties. You have the choice to stay wherever you wish for free." The young woman tapped her chin, pantomiming deep thought as she continued to study him. "Should you want a house, it will be provided. Yet you keep coming back here." 

  Anticipatory dread slowly began to curdle whatever warmth Destrier was experiencing at her presence, his smile fading. With his friends beside him he had managed Urgals, Kulls, liches... Leofore . He was a wielder of an ancient and terrible power, one that hailed from beyond the stars and time immemorial. Yet somehow he knew, marrow-deep, that this diminutive woman was about to raze his achievements to the ground.

  Illeria's voice softened. "Why?" 

  The question was like a death knell. Destrier felt as though someone had punched him in the gut, butterflies turning to lead in his stomach. He tried to weasel out of it, the flush creeping up the back of his neck to the tips of his ears as he mumbled, "Illeria, you…you have to already know why. You are incredibly intelligent. I refuse to believe you don't know why." 

  "I have my suspicions. However, I would appreciate hearing your explanation." She was relishing his panic, the fiend . 

  His doe-eyed fondness for her softened his indignation at being teased without mercy, though it was still present. This seemed almost too cruel to bear. Destrier raked a hand through his messy blond locks, inhaling deeply in an attempt to steel himself. 

  "I cannot offer you anything you don't already have. I can do naught to enrich your life, Illeria." He began helplessly. "You have thrived here. You are a creator , a builder. I am...I am not that."

  It pained him to speak so bluntly, yet he knew that honesty was the only thing that would see him through this discussion. Her silence was not overly encouraging, but he soldiered on.

  "I did not think I would survive the war. I did not dare to dwell on what would happen afterwards, because I did not believe I would be there to see it." Destrier was uncertain if he should even be admitting such things. No person would want a partner so dour and despondent. "Somehow though, somehow we managed to return and I now find myself at a loss. I have to carefully consider the future I did not believe I would have." 

  Illeria put a hand on his arm. "This world has as much of a need for people like you as it does for me, Destrier. You're too quick to sell yourself short." She chided. 

  "I destroy , Illeria. Much more than a few gold's worth of drape cloth." Destrier replied dejectedly, taking her hands in his own. They were so small, yet her knuckles were nearly as scarred as his. It was a strangely comforting detail. "Your place in this new era is assured. Someone like me, though…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "I am a product of times which are now over, nothing more. I would not ask that of you."

  "You wouldn't ask what of me?" Illeria sounded frustrated, her hands squeezing his tightly. 

  When Destrier brought himself to meet her gaze again, he was startled by the way she was looking at him. His words died in his throat and he just stared dumbly, knowing in the back of his mind that this was his moment and he was squandering it! "T-To ask...I would not ask you to share your...um, life with me." He managed to stammer, muttering a curse under his breath at how foolish he must sound. 

  "And why wouldn't you ask that?" Illeria asked sharply, stomping her foot. "I refuse to believe that all you can do is bumble around and ruin things, Desty ."

  The childish nickname got a quick chuckle out of the knight before he mastered himself. "Illeria-"

  "No, hush. You've said your piece very prettily, but you're still wrong." The young woman interrupted firmly. 

  " How? " Revel protested. "I've spent so long thinking about this, Illeria. Nights upon nights I've laid sleepless, mulling everything over. Someone such as I cannot make you happy."

  "I think I'll be the judge of that." Illeria murmured. "I have survived on my own for long enough. Watching you set out every time with the King's Elite and your battalions, never knowing whether you would come back, I..." She rested her forehead on his chest, her hands coming up to grip the fabric of his shirt with surprising ferocity. "I don't want you to leave ever again, but I will not beg. I have a reputation to uphold, you understand." The young woman said frankly.

  "So you do. Far be it from me to tarnish that." Destrier could not keep from smiling. He knew he must look like a fool . "You wish for me to stay with you? Truly?"

  "I wish for much more than that, but it's a start." 

  Her wry response had him laughing until he was breathless and he cupped her face to tilt it upwards. "Illeria," Destrier said softly, his eyes searching her own. "You have always been what I come back for. As soon as my fingers graze the crest on the doorway I breathe a sigh of relief, for I know I am home ."

  "Your flattery falls on deaf ears, Revel." Despite her dismissive words, he felt her hold on his shirt tighten.

  " You are my home, Illeria." He said plainly, entirely enamored with the way her brown eyes widened in wonder. "Forgive my boldness, please, but I-"

  "-need to stop being so polite before you accidentally light the rug on fire again." Her hand cupped his cheek and he leaned into the touch dazedly, almost certain he was dreaming. Illeria, precious Illeria, looking at him like that even while she teased him-! This had to be a dream.

  Destrier prayed he would never wake. 

  Let me have this brief moment of ever after, with the kingdom saved and the woman I love at my side. 

  "Are you alright, Desty?" Illeria asked softly. 

  "Aye." The knight sighed, utterly content. "I daresay I'm a fair sight better than that."

Part Four: So Little Time

[bedlamgames]

Q&A #71

There’s a new fortnightly progress report up for anyone to view on the patreon and there’s less some real disasters I’m sure the public version of 0.79 for No Haven will be out tomorrow. 

Anonymous: Does No Heaven have or will have a pregnancy system?

It will not outside of some discussion of how crossbreeding works for certain races in the lore. Just holds no appeal to me, sorry.

Anonymous: In your plans you've said that you are planning to start no haven conversion to twine after finishing this task with WR. Does that mean WR and NH will switch their roles and WR will be getting constant updates and NH will not recieve new content while being transfered? I am not saying it in a negative way, just wonder what will happen to the development process after WR conversion will be finished. Honestly, I thought you want to keep NH in rags.

That’s pretty much exactly what I was thinking of doing. I’ve always wanted to convert it, but for a long it was looking depending on others that fell through or would be just too much of a time investment to be worth it. The WR has taught me a great deal and I believe it would be more possible than it used to be.

Anonymous: Do you have any plans to make sex addict work on the player character like it does on other slavers(sometimes losing control and being free to use by other slavers)?

In the update there’s a way for you to be used like a slave by your slavers, and I’m sure I’ll add other ways for that to happen in future, so yes absolutely. 

Anonymous: Just to report, I just started a Savage Revenant senario and got generated a slaver with double faith traits. (Faith: The Frozen Queen - Elementalist: Water - Leader - Faith: The Frozen Queen - Connected - Cowardly - Slutty)

Thanks for the spot. I’ve update the Advisor traits in that scenario to both make that not happen and make them more powerful. 

Anonymous: you know how if we pick flt or mounted on lvl up for slavers they say the found them in the marches? I kinda want a low % (as in 1% or even less) chance of just getting a flying mount when the PC goes into the marches.

I do want to do a lot more in the marshes. What I’m thinking is kind of like the tavern/town, but with more exploring with the chance of much better rewards, and of course more involved other outcomes.

Anonymous: out of curiosity, does malice/harmony have removal immunity considering that it's a "unique" slaver or if she's gone she's gone?

She works like the other recruitable uniques so if she’s gone, and she doesn’t get the Unexpected Return event she is indeed gone. 

Anonymous: imgur /a/dxQ5g 99% sure I got her as a bimbo merc made her my own and lost her twice, why is she suddenly a golem in the desc text but not race etc? as a side note on return it says momento, should be memento

There was an issue with malice/harmony’s mechanic that was causing that which should be fixed now. 

Anonymous: Is there a way to recruit the unique slavers without taking the associated traits at the start of the game. (Like an assignment or tavern event)

Not currently. I’m not opposed to the idea entirely. My one concern is that most of the unique slavers were via patreon requests and that would increase the work involved after the fact by a fair if not very large amount. One to think about. 

Anonymous: Bug report rather than a question. When I finish the slaver training for a slave and send them on an assignment, no matter what reputation roll they get they still become a slaver and their description text is doubled in the examine screen.

That’s perfectly fine too :) 

Had a look and you’re completely correct. That should be sorted for 0.79

[tomfooleryprime]

Is Star Trek: Discovery’s Michael Burnham part Vulcan?

The recently released trailer strongly implies that Sonequa Martin-Green’s character, Michael Burnham, has ties to Vulcan, but to what extent? Is she a human who spent part of her childhood on Vulcan, or does she actually have Vulcan DNA?

Most people will be quick to claim, “But she doesn’t have pointed ears!” And that’s true. They are quite rounded, as you can see.  

Spock’s ears were pointed after all, right? Spock was a human/Vulcan hybrid and for all intents and purposes, was frequently described as having Vulcan physiology. But that’s not the end of the story. When discussing Spock’s blood in the TOS episode “Journey to Babel,” Nurse Chapel points out, “It isn’t true Vulcan blood either. It has human blood elements in it.” 

So there really are some human elements lurking within Spock. To use genetics terminology, genotypically (DNA wise) he’s half human, but phenotypically (appearance wise), he looks Vulcan. Most of us learned Mendelian genetics in high school biology where we did fun Punnett squares and learned things like brown eyes are dominant to blue eyes and black hair is dominant to blond hair. Using these rules, we might assume that a Vulcan’s pointed ears are dominant to a human’s rounded ears and call it that, but the truth is, very few traits are actually inherited by the patterns we learned in 10th grade science class. 

At this point I should probably backtrack and explain all the reasons why a naturally-occurring Vulcan/human hybrid just doesn’t make any sense.  Whether or not two species can interbreed depends on quite a few factors like chromosome number and genetic similarity. Humans have 23 pairs of chromosomes for a total of 46 – one from mom and one from dad – and we have genes in predictable locations so that when the genetic material combines, we essentially shuffle our DNA for the next generation without scrambling it into nonsense. In order for hybrids to occur, ideally they should have the same number of chromosomes and genes in similar locations. Chromosome number isn’t actually a game changer though.

Mules are made from the crossbreeding of a female horse (which has 64 chromosomes) and a male donkey (which has 62 chromosomes). When sperm and egg combine the result is a mule with 63 chromosomes, which unfortunately renders mules sterile due to the odd chromosome. While horses and donkeys are different species, from a genetic perspective, they’re remarkably similar. 

This guy will never know the love of his own children, poor bastard. 

This obviously isn’t true for humans and Vulcans. They might look relatively similar on the outside, but just look at what canon tells us about Vulcan physiology: a three-chambered heart located where the liver should be, a midbrain capable of telepathy, and copper based blood don’t exactly make Vulcans right next to chimpanzees as our evolutionary cousins. (And that blood should actually be blue based on the oxidation state of copper in hemocyanin but I’m already getting into the scientific weeds here.)

So for Vulcans and humans to even have babies in the first place is a remarkable feat of genetic engineering that wouldn’t even be remotely possible with modern technology, but it’s Star Trek, right? It’s sci-fi and it’s the future and we’ve got to suspend some belief. Check. But that doesn’t mean we can’t use what we do know about genetics and speculate about patterns of inheritance between humans and Vulcans.

Firstly, Spock isn’t the only example of offspring between humans and Vulcanoid species. Sure, Romulans may be considered a separate species from Vulcans, but on a genetic timescale, the split seems to be very recent (much like we see with wolves and dogs) and there’s no reason to think they couldn’t easily interbreed with one another. So for all intents and purposes, we might consider a cross between a human and Romulan to be quite similar to a human and Vulcan. Canon offers us at least two examples of human-Romulan hybrids: Sela, the daughter of Tasha Yar and her Romulan captor, and Simon Tarses, a Starfleet crewman who was one-quarter Romulan but tried to pass his slightly pointy ears off as a Vulcan throwback.  

I wonder how much they had to pay Denise Crosby to wear that wig?

If we were sticking to what we learned about genetics in high school biology, we would expect Sela to have inherited her father’s dark hair rather than her mother’s light hair. Think about it: aside from Sela, when was the last time anyone saw a blonde Romulan? But it would appear that genes for hair color in hybrids seem to be playing by a different set of rules than what we would predict in humans. So coming back to the ears, both of these individuals lend weight to the theory that pointed ears do predominate in Vulcanoid hybrids, but… Crewman Tarses’ ears are less pointed, suggesting pointed ears might be an example of something called polygenic inheritance. It’s a pretty simple concept, actually. Mendelian genetics taught us that things exist in binary, either yes or no, this or that, brown eyes or blue eyes, but as I’ve already explained, so few traits actually work that way. One of the most obvious examples in humans comes from skin color.

Have a dose of melanin. It’s gorgeous!

There’s no one “skin color” gene. Scientists have actually identified at least eight genes that contribute to skin color that can interact with one another in various ways to produce a spectrum. Most people recognize that biracial children often end up with a skin tone somewhere in between their parents; this complex chart shows how eight different genes for one trait can lend to incredibly beautiful and diverse variation. It also demonstrates how people who end up on Maury because they swear they could never father a dark-skinned baby are scientifically illiterate turds. This graphic is an approximation, but you can see how it is uncommon but entirely possible for two people with intermediate pigmentation to have a very light-skinned or a very dark-skinned child, depending on the roll of the genetic dice.

Based on Crewman Tarses’ slightly pointed ears, it’s easy to imagine that ear “pointiness” (a very scientific term) might fall along similar patterns of inheritance if it can be diluted over generations rather than simply being present or absent. So could Michael Burnham have Vulcan ancestry and round ears? Once the biologist in me ignores the sheer madness of a Vulcan/human hybrid in the first place, I’m willing to say yes.    

Now let’s have a lookie-loo at Michael Burnham’s eyebrows. 

Tweezed to perfection

I’m willing to believe that could be the result of Vulcan DNA rather than a fashion choice. 

Lastly, there’s this very brief scene in the trailer that implies that this woman and this child are the same person. Tell me that isn’t the Vulcanest haircut you ever saw? 

Seriously, it looks like the Beatles threw up all over her head. 

Sure, she could just be a human who has accepted Surak’s teachings at some point in her life, right down to the shellac-styled hair, but I think it’s clear that whether or not Michael Burnham is descended from Vulcans, she at least spent a chunk of her childhood in their company. So while the canon is still out on whether she actually harbors any Vulcan DNA, but I don’t think it should be ruled out strictly based on the shape of her ears.