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kervl-klear · 2 months

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🌹 for Angae

🌹 - They're lonely/missing home. What do they do?

…………………………………………………

There’s nothing out of ordinary at Rosemary station, Angae continues to do his work as usual. However, despite not having an episode, Angae is visibly more detached than usual.

This is the last day of the month. Since Rosemary is a top-secret facility, they have to manage all the finance and administration work themselves or they will risk having information about their spending and organizational structure leaked out when submitting info to the defense finance accounting service.

North capital is considering putting Angae out of commission and have other general replace him, which would end in his neutralization considering his position in national threat. Seoltang is a literal doormat at this point, so his authority won't mean much at North capital and Noeu is still being suspected of multiple cases of corruption, so Angae had to find a way to survive on his own. Everything had to be extra perfect, after all losing his job mean losing his life which also means that Angae won't be going home tonight.

Last night Angae dreamed that he’s back home at Tulip Island which dug up a thought he tried to ignore. It’s fascinating that he still misses his home intensely even after 20 years had passed and when this kind of thing happens, he would simply live his day normally until the thought fade.

Gripping his pen tightly, he tells himself to stay focused. If he has an episode now, he won’t be able to finish his work.

Suddenly the light in his entire room flash in Morse code.

[Want some help with your asset report Secretary?]

In an annoyance, Angae leave his office. He walks straight to the west part of his office where the hallway light-no, the light of the entire base flickered in other set of morse code.

[I'm here to help if you just say the word]

Angae arrived at the jail area where they temporary keep threats that they capture in Area 21 until the law enforcement come pick these people up.

The rosemary guard salute at Angae as he appoarch one of the jail cells.

Angae: "Excuse me Hongcha, can you stop playing with the light?"

There is no reply, Hongcha is too focused on messing with the wire he manages to dig out from the electric door that he doesn’t notice Angae. Through the gap between each cell bar, Angae reach to tap Hongcha on his shoulder.

Hongcha jolted in disgust but still try to play it cool.

Hongcha: “Hey secretary, you should thank me for helping you cleanse this base from many fatal security deficiencies”

He put the wire down, studying Angae's body language.

Hongcha: "The biggest intelligence facility in the country using simple AC for electrical route is pretty embarrassing you know?"

Angae: "This base was built before other option was invented. Regardless, can you stop breaking into my base? I have to announce a drop in security every time some of my men pause their patrol to deal with you"

This morning Hongcha attempted sneaking into B2 for an intel on some cases where citizens attempted to report that some of generals and executives SA them.

Hongcha: “Let me remind you that I am not on your side. Baegcha is the only one who agreed to join you guys, I’m not interested in your super villain alliance”

Angae: “To correct you, it’s a neutral mercenary corporation”

Hongcha sarcastically make a laughing sound…either that or he really did laugh but his stone-cold expression make thing confusing as usual.

Hongcha: “Yeah, whatever. But you do realize that keeping me here for too long might draw in some catastrophe, right? We all know he has no problem buried a couple thousand of your men with me in this basement”

Angae pout a little.

Angae: "The underground part of this base is strong enough to withstand air raid and if the entrance and exit are buried, we can always use communication to call for outside help. Beside he will not find you here because of the counterintelligence measure especially SIGNINT unless you call him here before you sneak in just in case you got caught, your plan is to escape while Orenji keep everyone busy and Orenji's air raid will destroy any trail leading to you"

Right at the end of Angae sentence an air raid siren alarm came to life. Angae facepalm.

Hongcha: "Awww, so you do remember my behavior pattern. Unlike a certain surgeon who claim to be helping me yet all he wants is for me to stop existing"

Angae: "You all are too predictable, if there's something you want you just go for it, no precaution or consideration"

Angae decide to drag Hongcha with him outside the station and order all soldiers on the ground floor to turn off the light.

Hongcha: "Hahaha, are you seriously using me as a hostage against myself right now?"

Angae: "If you don't want to die, you better corporate. The visibility is low today because of the fog so we should still be at advantage"

Hongcha: "I didn't poke much but I can tell you are about to have an episode; your eyes are darting like crazy, your shoulder is tense, and your lip is shaking, clearly you are reaching your limit, you can't use your camera because your men will see it and you are out of Risperidone because you didn't have enough time to visit Docs lately. Oh, wait maybe you are already having one..?"

Angae got chill down his spine starting to doubt if the fog in front of him is real and if he just makes a fool out of himself.

Hongcha: "Just messing with you, the fog is totally real"

Somewhere outside Area 21, Orenji is out conducting air traffic.

Orenji: "04 to D44A, stop fire. Enter FL010, head 67 at minute 15. CB10 request approved. 04 to D46A, descend to 50 feet, make 90 degrees turn then open fired at minute 24"

One of the invading fighter jets descend then make a sharp turn to the starboard and open fired in straight line, stopping the Rosemary soldier from leaving the station entrance.

Rosemary's anti-aircraft weapons fired some missile in retaliation.

Orenji: "04 to CB10, drop bomb at minute 50"

A bomber flies by above the missile. A bomb was released accurately right on top of the missiles that had target locked on the closest fighter jet to the facility and because of that, the fighter jet is now able to spot the location of anti-aircraft system.

Orenji: "04 to D46A, approved"

The fighter jet open fire at the anti-aircraft weapon, this prompted the air defense unit of Rosemary base to release their own aircraft for ariel defense.

Angae: "Negative! All pilots remained stationed, suspend all flight activity-"

Two aircrafts lifted off unannounced and went straight crashing right to the anti-aircraft station, a couple of strawberry scatters around as the aircraft explode. The confused Rosemary control tower report that the ground that their frequency was jammed and none of them are able to contact the pilots, it is as Angae fear.

Orenji had jammed the signal that the tower use, then pose himself to the pilot as the ATC from the tower they are in contact with then lead them to their demise. Position them at the angle where hearing anti-collision warning is equivalent to seeing 4 red PAPI during touch down. It's seemed that he too is at advantage with this level of visibility.

Hongcha: "Oh nice! These pilots appear to be on my stoplist, what a coincident!"

Hongcha is crossing names on his stoplist while whistling in which Angae look at him with disgusted expression and yes, 30% of the forest around the base are now currently on fire, clearly this had become a miniature active war site.

Angae vision started to flicker between hell on earth and rainbow flower field, he can feel that he also had to close his eyes longer each time to retain himself. He got to find a way to end this fast.

Angae told one of his men to go get him a Barret M82. At the moment an extraordinary powerful rifle could be a better approach compared to SAM that are not just a bigger target for fighter jet to strike back and easier to spot but also a more explosive one.

The soldier handed him what he asked, but they also have to report him that Angae had took the scope back home with him for a maintenance a couple of day ago and the scope of the other guns here won't fit the barrel. So much so for not making a fool out of himself-

And so, Angae asked his soldier to bring him myopia glasses and magnifying glass.

Decommissioning the aircraft with sniper gun is impossible as bullet can only travel at 2,600 km per hour and these jets fly at least 1,900 km per hour. But he knows how he can decommission its firearms. Also, he personally doesn't want any aircraft to crash here as it will become his base's responsibility to clean it. So he decided that he should go straight to confront Orenji head on.

Before getting close to Orenji though, Angae want to decommission a couple of his communication equipment but where could Orenji be hiding?

Suddenly a Hydrangea with two comedically huge petals spoke in Hongcha's voice.

Hongcha: “Oh man, if only there’s someone who had 5 years of experience in dealing with first generation Northland combat controller standing right next to you”

It appears that his vision had already switch and he is 100% in psychosis episode now as temporary closing his eyes don't make the vision inaccuracy go away, he won't have much time before the rifle in his hand turn into something else.

Hongcha probaly notice the puzzled look on his face hence asking for involment.

Angae: "I'm not returning your electronic equipments so you can hack into the North capital system and release a conventional war scale missile designed to sink a battleship"

Hongcha: "Come'on. Unlike Baegcha, I won't try to kill Orenji"

Angae sighed, Hongcha is indeed one people with the most information about Orenji and having him completely station here is indeed a waste of resources.

Angae: "Can you pinpoint Orenji's hiding spot?"

Hongcha: "Thought you'd never ask"

Suddenly the comedically large petals on Hydrangea start spinning at turbine speed, then it shoots a gigantic neon blue sausage into the sky. This led to Angae also notice that the fighter jets had turn into a wooden bird.

Alighting the magnifying glass at the right distance, Angae asked Hongcha to hold it still for him. Angae is very curious as to what his brain will interpretated a Hydrangea holding stuff but apparently, the magnify glass simply float in place.

Orenji statled as his radar goes out of commission followed by two of his duplex radios then the RF modulator, limiting his communication route.

Orenji: "D44A, D46A, CB10 return to base"

Orenji inspect his broken equipment, he hopes to fix it as soon as possible and may be ground jack one of the airliners just in case. But then he heard a subtle ruffle sound which prompt him to take his own pistol out.

The intruder fired at Orenji first in which he shoots back in retaliation, he would have D45A take care of the intruder for him however he had no idea where exactly this intruder is. More shot was fired and Orenji continued to shoot back.

While reloading his gun, Orenji hear a quiet thud sound on his left, he looks up from his gun in which he found Angae.

Angae's eyes are not exactly alight with where Orenji is, clearly mean that Angae can't see where Orenji is and is only listening to his radio. This greatly impress Orenji as this means that Angae recognized the type of his gun purely from the sound, he then precedes to count each shot and took the opportunity when Orenji is reloading his gun.

Angae look at the massive orange tree in front of him, each orange hanging on his branch talk over each other, reporting every single little thing they see. Angae is a bit nervous knowing what he's currently facing. Orenji doesn't sees a single thing on field, everything he know are from his radar and pilot reports.

Angae stare at the orange tree intensely, he didn't intend for Orenji to notice him. He doesn't even know if he's really holding guns right now, he just knows that it sounds correct when he squeezes it.

Both are at stalemate. Either the wooden bird shoot or Angae shoot.

Hongcha: "Orenji...."

Both were taken aback by the approaching Hydrangea that had now grow a pair of chicken feet. The Hydrangea and the Orange tree stay still in front of each other for a couple of second in awe, it's been 3 months since Orenji last saw Baegcha/Hongcha and it's been 6 months since Hongcha last saw Orenji.

Orenji: "Baegcha"

Unlike the rest of C2ISTAR, Orenji called both Baegcha and Hongcha "Baegcha", this is because Orenji want to call his significant other by their preferred name.

Angae can't quite tell what's going on but both plants seem to be giving some sign to each other, wrinkling and shuffling their leaves.

Orenji: "All is worth for ending your suffering Beagcha, I look forward to it. 04 to CV04, drop ladder at 13.68N 100.99E"

A wooden bird fly by then hover above them. One of Orange tree's branch reach out to the chain hanging from the wooden bird. It's seemed that Orenji had escaped with his aircraft.

Angae still doubt the situation. Beagcha/Hongcha was in front of him, but Orenji choose to escape instead of pressing on to putting his significant other out of misery as intended. It was an abnormal sight.

Both Hongcha and Baegcha stay to help Angae out with the bills and incident reports while Angae reorganizing the intelligence in the base. A couple of days later another box of money was drop in front of Angae's house. With a photo of the funeral held for the two Rosemary pilots, seem that Orenji paid for their funeral.

Hongcha: "Here's the conclusion report, are there anything else?"

Angae: "No, that is everything, I'll pardon your jail time as promised"

Finally, being in a less chaotic mindset. Angae now notice that he made mistake in his deduction and what happened is somewhat less obvious than he thought. Apparently Orenji, Beagcha and Hongcha can carry some discreet operation as well.

Angae: "Orenji was the one who paid you to break in here didn't he?"

Hongcha reply with silence.

Angae: "You two are trying to scare the other generals away from this base and you want North capital to think that they need me to fend you two off"

Angae look up from his computer only to find that the secret service was already gone. Angae make a small idiot smile, he definitely has the worse group of friends in this world. But this probably will be the closest things to the homesick pill he will ever get.

…………………………………………………

Thank you for your patience in the TFC circuit and thank you for tuning into my frequency. CVL2, RWY CLR. 🛫✨

#c2istar #my oc #my art #orenji #angae #hongcha #cw: sa #cw: death

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heavenlymorals · 2 years

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Green Eyes

Summary: Done with her duties for the day, Aslaug hears a sound coming from Ivar's room goes to investigate.

I need to keep better track of my WIPs. I forgot all about this. Anyways, I hope you enjoy ❤

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When Ragnar disappeared from Kattegat after his failed raid in Frankia, Aslaug took the role of both King and Queen. Of course, it wasn’t the first time she has taken up such responsibility, as she always was prone to take that role when her elusive husband sent out with the men in spring to continue raiding, but for the first time, the people truly considered her the sole ruler of Kattegat. She gained the respect and the prestige of a King over the years when Ragnar left her and her children.

She gained the respect of the people by taking the reins of the kingdom that Ragnar left to the carrion crows. She gained the prestige given by the respect of the people by guiding Kattegat to astonishing and astounding heights. Alone, she turned Kattegat, not to a station where young men and women go out to eventually meet their death in the raids, but to a wonderful trading hub, always busy and bustling with foreign excitement.

Kattegat’s market district grew tenfold. The wealth grew tenfold. Fewer people were starving, and more children were being born. Wives were ecstatic that their husbands were staying home rather than embarking on the raids. Husbands were satisfied knowing that with all the new opportunities in Kattegat, they needed not to worry their wives and children about the possibility of forfeiting their lives for gold.

Of course, some men and women, with fire in their souls and bloody ambition in their hearts, would still join the raids. Aslaug herself always found that part of business barbaric, but occasionally, she would sponsor a raid or two. More often though, she would just send them to the care of Bjorn, who commanded his own fleet of ships and who shared their same inferno, or she would send them to Lagertha over in Hedeby.

Lagertha also commanded a decent number of ships in Hedeby, but she lacked the numbers to properly procure a reasonable raiding party across all her ships, so she welcomed the warriors of Kattegat with open arms. She would smile wide and thank Aslaug for her support. Aslaug would smile back, though she knew that with each passing day, their friendly alliance would grow shakier and shakier. In her gut, Aslaug had a feeling it was because of Ragnar, but at the same time, it has been more than twenty years since she first met the man and gave birth to her oldest son, Ubbe.

He was no longer here for Lagertha to be angry at, but Aslaug was still here. The seeress could sense Lagertha’s fake smiles all the time, but she always knew Lagertha to have an honor that only a few people could have. Aslaug was sure that she respected their alliance as much as Aslaug did.

Or maybe not. Aslaug was not sure anymore.

In essence, life was good. Well, for her people, life was good. For herself? She was tired, delirious, and hopeless that she will ever get a decent night of sleep ever again, and it wasn’t because of her children. Her nightmares or visions, sometimes it was hard to tell, tore her apart on the inside. She saw coiling snakes. She saw ravens gorging on carrion. She saw the brutality of war. She saw blood covering her children. She saw horrible, terrible things. It was worse, knowing that as much as she would want to, she could not scream or cry, or else the people will share the same terrors. They all knew she could see things, and with how stressful everything has been for her, she wasn’t able to differentiate between the visions and the nightmares.

She wanted nothing more than to just drown her sorrows with a sweet glass of wine (a couple of glasses of wine, actually), but she refrained from doing that because she couldn’t risk making a fool out of herself again like how she did when Sigurd showed her Harbard sleeping with those two other women. She was the singular ruler of Kattegat. She could not have it.

Aslaug sighed. She would’ve given up long ago on Kattegat if it weren’t for the fact that she was seeing the fruits of her labor. The people will never tell stories of her turning Kattegat in the right direction with nothing but her mind and her dreams. They will never tell stories of her in the same way that they would Ragnar and Lagertha and her valiant parents. She was not a woman who lived by iron and blood. She was not a warrior in any sense of the word. No one would conduct songs. No one would care. If she were a man, then maybe. She would have stood out against all the other men that made their fortune forged from blood and tears, but she wasn’t a man nor did she want to be like a man. She cared not for swords and strength, like Lagertha or any of the other wonderful shieldmaidens who danced on the battlefield, making death their lackey.

The gods sowed a cruel reality for women like her. Women like her had a heavy burden to bear. She won’t fight though, she won’t go against fate. If it was her burden, she would bear it with a smile, no matter how tense that smile may be.

She sighed. It was late. The councils were over. Her duties were over, at least for today. Her muscles ached and her head hurt. Despite doubting that she will truly rest her mind, she knew that it would be good for her tired body to lie down. To hopefully relive some of the aches that tortured her stature.

She released her servants to rest and as she walked to her quarters, she heard a small little sound echoing from Ivar’s room. It was soft and piquant and then was followed by a softer whisper. Aslaug stopped in her tracks and then pressed her ear to the door. She heard more whispering and then a peal of delicate laughter.

She sighed. Ivar’s eyes were deathly blue today. She sent him to bed early for a reason. He needed to rest. She knew deep down that he was old enough to understand his own weaknesses more than she ever could, but she was still paranoid that her boy may do something that he would regret later. He should be sleeping, not whispering into the late hours of the night. She felt annoyance creep up her spine. Another burden.

No, no. What a horrible thing to think about the son she tried so hard and succeeded in keeping alive. She felt disgust seep into her stomach as she thought about her youngest being another burden that she had to take care of. What a horrible, terrible, atrocious thing to think. She hated herself for feeling that, even if it were for a split second.

Ivar was a brilliant boy, truly. He had a tongue like quicksilver and a mind like a whip. His intelligence was frightening at times, his rapid-fire wit amusing. Aslaug had little doubt in her mind that one day Ivar would grow tired of Kattegat and his mother and would wound up someplace else. Aslaug also had little doubt that despite her boy’s legs, he would rise to greatness. Or so she hopes. She still felt nauseous at times knowing that Ivar leaving her was a reality that inches closer day by day, year by year, but she also knew that when he leaves, only greatness will lay in his path.

He was no burden. No, he will become great.

(Gods, please let that be true. Don’t let her or her youngest suffer any more than they already does.)

Another small sound emerged from beyond the door and Aslaug administered three hard knocks on the door. It was far too late, and he should be resting, making sure that the blue in his whites would dilute once more.

The noise from inside the room was silenced. Cheeky boy, her son was. She creaked open the door and she saw a bundle hide beneath the thick furs, with thicker furs specifically covering his legs. Unless she was going absolutely mad, she knew she heard him a few seconds beforehand. She walked up to the bed to check if her son was asleep. When she approached, the furs squirmed in unnatural ways and when she stepped closer, a small black head emerged from the furs, pushing the blankets away from Ivar’s eyes, showing Aslaug a sheepish expression on her son’s face, illuminated by the moonlight.

The small black head revealed two pointy triangular ears and large green eyes. The cat meowed gently and stared at Aslaug with those gem-like eyes before rolling onto its back, curling its tail upwards, and closing its eyes like it had no care in the world. Ivar pulled himself upwards and scratched the cat’s head, the animal purring softly as he did so. It was a precious site, she could not deny that at all.

“Hello, Ivar. Who is your little friend?”

Ivar continued petting the cat, alternating from head scratches to rubbing its tummy. “He comes every now and again. He doesn't have a name yet, though."

Aslaug nodded, pleased knowing that her son was not lying to her. She could tell. She wasn’t his mother for nothing. When he did lie to her, he would play around with the fabric of his sleeve or his gaze would lower downwards. Funny enough, these dishonest little nuances only occurred when he was lying to her. She has observed him lying to others before, and if she did not already know the truth beforehand, she would think that Ivar was being truthful.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and brought her hand to feel Ivar’s forehead. It was a habit she simply could not help, so she tried her best to it cover up as a pathway to then ruffle his hair. He let it happen and the cat continued to lazily flick its tail.

“Have you been feeding him?” Aslaug asked quietly.

Ivar nodded, “it’s probably the only reason he keeps coming back.”

Aslaug snorted slightly. She stared at the feline and did feel a cunning aura surrounding it. It probably would come only to get fed, but with how comfortable it was on the bed, she doubted that that cat and her son’s relationship came only from the basis of food.

“Hmm, I doubt it. The goddess Freya adores felines, and I have no doubt that should one be comfortable with you, you are gaining the goddess’s favor,” Aslaug said, her tone matter-of-factly. Ivar snorted a bit and continued petting the cat.

"What good is her favor if I can't get Eir's?" His voice was just caked in a thick layer of ambivalence. Uncertain yet entirely sure. Aslaug felt her lips pursed at his words and her heart shattering into a million little pieces. How many times has her body picked up the shards of her heart to piece them back together? What did her heart look like? She was certain that after so many heartbreaks, it was misshapen and perhaps even missing a few pieces. Oh, her poor darling boy. Her sweet, sweet boy.

She sighed and ran the back of her hand gently on Ivar's cheek. She shifted a bit on the bed to have her back at the headrest and then snaked her arm around Ivar's shoulder to pull him closer. Ivar did not fight against her actions and instead sunk close into her side while his hand continued to absentmindedly stroke the cat's fluffy fur.

Around other people, Ivar was a rather aloof figure, all crystallized in cold gelid ice, and the older he got, the clear this became. The only time he truly let down his guard was around either herself or Ubbe or Hvitserk. She doesn't know how often he unraveled his souls to her two eldest children but when it came to her, any moments of vulnerability were few and far between. Being a queen was a harsh business, a tiring burden, and one of the biggest regrets of her role in society was seeing her children's youth and innocence fall between her fingers like grains of fine sand.

"You've had Eir's favor many times, Ivar. Stronger men have suffered your wounds and died the next day. Stronger men have become sick and died the next day. Every day we live without plague is Eir granting us her gifts of healing. And besides, she must be worked to the bone every day, healing those boorish and fetid men in Valhalla, hm?"

She tried to keep her tone and her words light and teeming with wisdom. Instead, they felt empty and depleted. They were meant to comfort him, but to her ears, they failed to bring that element.

Ivar laughed softly at that, though his smile didn't reach his eyes. The cat stretched its legs while it was still in its supine position and then rolled over to its stomach, its bushy tail swaying back and forth on the bed. Ivar's hand retreated from the animal's body as it was moving. When it seemed to become comfortable in its new position, he brought his hand down again to scratch the base of the cat's pointed ears. It began to let out a low rumbling sound that procured its own soft vibrations. The purr made Ivar's gilded smile turn up into a somewhat more genuine one.

"Mother, you know that's not what I mean."

Aslaug's nimble fingers raked gently against Ivar's thick hair, in a similar fashion that Ivar stroked the cat. She closed her eyes.

She knew exactly what Ivar meant. She closed her eyes for a moment. She couldn't bring herself to give her boy a true answer. She heard the voices of the gods, loud and clear in her mind, masculine and feminine and something altogether different all at the same time. Ethereal. Divine. The voices of the gods clouded her mind and told her what would happen.

She will be with the child again, she will bring another son of Ragnar onto this earth. The catch was, however, that she and Ragnar must wait after three days to fall slaves to their lust, or else, the child will be a monster. It wasn't her words. It was the gods.

She should've fought harder against Ragnar's touch. She should've screamed and kicked and attacked her elusive husband.

But she was weak.

And the worst part was that the gods meant Ivar's affliction to be a punishment for Ragnar and his pride and ignorance. Ivar's affliction was simply a byproduct of Ragnar's ignorance and with that, Aslaug's weakness.

It wasn't fair for her boy. It wasn't fair for her boy to suffer not only in his body but everywhere else in life. She sees how Ivar sometimes would eye his brothers when green envy. She sees how her boy tries to not break down every day from the difficulties that he was cursed with from birth. She sees how much pressure he puts on himself every single day to be on the same level if not better than his older brothers.

Her three other boys, whom she knows that she has also hurt. She knows that they wish for her to be less a queen and more a mother, but how could she do that? Damn it all, how? The burden of the crown was a heavy one, especially now that Kattegat was a place worth living in once more. She seldom had time for any of them. However, she knew that her three older boys were lucky in the regard that they were rather popular amongst the people, all tall and bright and golden. She hoped that those people could seal up at least some of the non-negotiable neglect that she brought upon them. Ivar was not as lucky in that regard, thus she tried harder to be with him. He needed her more than they needed her. It was cruel to say, but it was the truth.

And it broke her heart.

"Did the herbs that the healers give you work or not?" Aslaug inquired, her gaze shifting slightly towards the cat, who butted its head against Ivar's thigh for more affection. Her boy absentmindedly resumed his stroking, though there wasn't that much thought put into it. The cat didn't seem to mind though. In fact, it seemed far too pleased with itself as it closed its forest eyes.

His eyes were terrifyingly blue today. The shade of blue would've been beautiful if it weren't for the carnage that it foretold. It reminded Aslaug of the unbroken blue of the ocean near the shore and the vast field of blue in the sky. Again, it would've been a beautiful color if it weren't for the fact that it prophesied agony. His brittle bones were far too fragile already and with how the sclera of his eyes were, Aslaug felt anxiety that one slightly wrong move would usher in a painful break. His legs were already a battlefield of scars, but unlike the warriors who flaunted their scars and the stories around them constantly, Ivar was deathly ashamed of his own.

"I mean, it worked as well as it always did."

So not much.

"Do you need more herbs?"

"No! I…no, I'm fine." His voice adulated up and then down as he said that, embarrassed that he lost control of his tone, especially in front of his mother. The cat tensed its muscles at the sound, its eyes the size of small rounded river rock. Its tail fluffed up and Ivar ran his hand through its dark fur, hoping to calm it down. It seemed to work, for the cat loosened up and closed its eyes.

"Are you sure, Ivar?" Aslaug asked gently. He was far too stubborn for his own good. Far, far too stubborn. In that regard, he reminds her of Ragnar. Sometimes, when she isn’t so tired of the responsibility that Ragnar forced onto her with his abandonment (in her gut, she knows he is not dead. Whether that is a good thing or not, the gods have held it away from her for now.), she would think about him. It was strange that, even though he had no real part in her children's lives anymore, he would still hold onto them with an iron grip, wrapping his hands around their throats, strangling them with such a frivolous zeal. And he wasn’t even here.

To her as well.

Oh, how she hated him at times…

She wonders how she will react if he were to come back. The man who ruined her children's lives and who ruined her life.

“Yes. Yes, I’m sure, mama…”

It was more ‘mother’ these days, never ‘mama’. More formal. Another sign that her boys were growing up, with all innocence being lost. It pleased her, though, this almost childish rendition of her place in motherhood.

She nodded and placed a firm kiss on the top of Ivar’s head, her nose burying itself in his thick, dark hair. “Alright then, my dear. I love you. Don’t let your friend keep you up too late, hm?” She said, nodding to the cat. Still as smug as ever.

Ivar nodded. “I won’t, I promise.”

She patted him on the head, carding her fingers through his hair once more, before leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.

As boys ought to do, he more or less ignored her wishes of not staying up too late, as he continued building a companionship with the creature that more or less chose him.

#vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #aslaug #aslaug sigurdsdottir #ragnar lothbrok #vikings fanfic

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locustbudget6 · 2 years

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Tuesday Morning Publish: Panda Skeptics Version

Blissful Tuesday morning, everybody. By now, I am certain most of you understand the large information of the week: Blizzard's registered Mists of Pandaria as a trademark associated to pc video games. Might this be the title of our next growth? Can all of us count on to be rolling monks or deciding whether to make our new panda on the Alliance or Horde side within the next 12 months or two?

It is powerful to say for certain. Faked leaks aside, I'm on a wait and see approach. As it is, I do not assume this guarantees anything. It might be for something utterly different, or it may very well be a "just in case" factor. I've seen sufficient trademarked Harry Potter titles that never saw the light of day not to be cautious. Then again, it may just be my own bias creeping in. I'm nonetheless hoping for an growth that is pure Alliance vs. Horde. But hey, if nothing else, at the least we obtained that sweet panda sketch from Anne.

So we positively have more Mists of Pandaria hypothesis than you can shake a stick at, however there's loads of different information to peruse as properly, such as the debut of patch 4.2.0a. Upkeep as we speak might be the standard 5 a.m. to eleven a.m. PDT, so it's best to have time to browse. Fun-gallery.com Check it all out after the break.

Hot information and features

Try the newest patch 4.2 hotfixes for Aug. 4.

The BlizzCon Digital Ticket is now on sale. There have been a couple of bugs with it, though; some purchasers have received final year's BlizzCon pet.

Our Cataclysm submit-mortem collection continues with a discussion of Deepholm.

Know Your Lore has a special look on the possibilities of a Mists of Pandaria enlargement.

WoW Archivist appears at the nightmare dragons and patch 1.8.

The numbers are in, they usually fairly good. The Cenarion Hatchling pet has raised greater than $1.9 million for Japanese earthquake relief.

Class information and guides

Scattered Shots assures you that yes, beastmastery hunters can raid.

Encrypted Textual content has more rogue suggestions for Firelands.

Spiritual Steerage has shadow priest suggestions for Lord Rhyolith. We additionally reply your Twitter stability questions and provide some more feral cat methods for Firelands.

The sunshine And How to Swing It has a guide to tanking Beth'tilac and Rhyolith. We also offer a paladin's information to healing Alysrazor.

Lichborne has a guide to patch 4.2 dying knight tank raid gear.

Shifting Perspectives has extra recommendation for gearing a bear druid in patch 4.2.

The Care and Feeding of Warriors offers a guide to safety leveling.

Totem Talk solutions extra of your restoration questions and presents a information to elemental leveling.

Raid Rx discusses utilizing audio cues in raid healing.

Arcane Brilliance discusses the state of the frost mage.

Blood Pact presents some advice to new degree eighty five warlocks.

Dungeons, objects, professions, PVP, and more

Ready Examine has a information to Baleroc.

Addon Highlight looks for ways to spruce up the Blizzard Raid Frames.

WoW Rookie reveals you how one can record game footage on a Mac.

Gold Capped appears to be like at balancing your stock in the TradeSkillMaster addon. We also talk about the possibilities of getting wealthy off of an official RMT AH.

The OverAchiever appears at grabbing mounts from the Argent Tournament.

Odds and ends

Know Your Lore tackles the continuing saga of the people.

Try the most recent installment of Protected Passage.

Look out, Minecraft -- Ragnaros is coming to your world.

15 minutes of Fame talks to a WoW-playing grandma. Yes, she knits, too!

Trying to get into the lore? We have a chronological information to all of the WoW-related books, brief stories, comics and manga.

The Lawbringer solutions your questions concerning the Diablo real-cash auction home.

The Guild has one more new episode in your approval.

All the World's A Stage provides tips for tauren roleplay story hooks.

#fun gallery #minecraft gallery

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prismadog · 2 years

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Tell me more about the AU where Jimmy is corrupted :D How do his allies react and whatnot once they find out? How does Scott react?

It's a bad time, very bad time indeed for everyone involved. And here's why! :3

[the answer got long so I threw it under a cut]

At first, his allies – Lizzie, Joel, and Pixlriffs – are very happy to see him alive and well. They had thought he died or that Xornoth had taken him to be tortured because the day after the raid on the Cod Empire, the day after the absolute massacre of every person that lived in Jimmy's swamp, he had gone missing. They searched for days for him while they laid his people to rest, but there was no sign of him.

They feared the worst and hoped if he was still alive that he was safe and sound. So, when months later, they saw him again, they were happy. They found their friend again, and Lizzie found her brother – she discovered her origins a couple months after his disappearance and she hoped to find Jimmy again and try to make things up to him for abandoning him all those years ago.

But that happiness immediately turns to worry and concern because Jimmy is not the man they used to know. Jimmy had changed, both physically and in personality. Jimmy used to be kind and sweet and so cheerful but the Jimmy that stands before them is cold and bitter and not afraid to hurt anyone – obviously, since it was him who killed the dragon and released Xornoth's true power.

And his looks now? He wears a different outfit, much like Sausage did, and it's darker tones – grey instead of white, black instead of green, and a horned helmet instead of a cod mask. His eyes are red, his skin and his scales pale, black veins trail like spiderwebs from his eyes and over his skin. His voice is deeper, rougher than before, as if he's been gargling gravel.

His allies try to ask him what happened, try to get him to tell them why he joined Xornoth, but he won't talk to them. They fret about him and he pushes them away. He wants nothing more to do with them, but they vow, they swear they're going to help him.

–––

As for Scott, he's shocked and worried and guilty once he finds out that Jimmy is not only alive, but also a puppet of his demon brother. By the time he meets Jimmy again, he knows of their history, he remembers everything of their life before in another world – he remembers Jimmy confessing his love with a poppy, he remembers how they used to lay in a field of flowers and gaze up at the stars, he remembers playing a cake prank on his husband and the two laughing about it after, he remembers the late nights of laying in bed and talking about nothing, he remembers Jimmy calling him "petal". He remembers the wars and the bloodshed that painted that world red, but it's the good things like Jimmy's smile and his laugh that he focuses on more.

It breaks his heart to see Jimmy this way, to see his husband so cold and bitter, so lifeless. And to find out that he remembers their history too and he hates him for it? It. Breaks. His. Heart.

He vows to Jimmy that he'll get him back. He'll find a way to break him free of Xornoth's control and he'll save him. He doesn't care how long it takes, he will find a way to get his Jimmy back. Jimmy just laughs in his face and sarcastically tells him "good luck with that, petal"

Scott dives into the books of Rivendell's library, he contacts the Cod-Alliance for anything information, he talks to Gem hoping she might know something or be able to find a spell - a potion - anything that might help, he...visits Sausage and asks him about his time under Xornoth's control.

Scott's still angry and hurt over the kidnapping, over Sausage and Joey taking him and Gem, over them torturing her and him being unable do anything to stop them. He swore to himself that he would never forgive Sausage, let alone speak to him ever again. But desperate times call for desperate measures and this...Jimmy being under Xornoth's control, is a desperate time.

So Scott goes to Sausage and asks him to tell him everything.

Sausage does so willingly – he'll do anything to help Jimmy because in Sausage's eyes, he was the one who pushed Jimmy into the demon's path, he caused that raid and killed all those people and if it wasn't for him Jimmy would be safe and happy. So Sausage is more than willing to tell Scott anything and everything he can about his time under Xornoth's influence – and, if Scott's okay with it, he wants to help him free Jimmy too.

They team up, Scott and Sausage, and they search for answers together. Together, they scour every inch, every nook and cranny, of not only Rivendell's library, but also Mythland's, and then the Crystal Cliffs' library. The more time Scott spends with Sausage, the more he starts to forgive him – he'll never forget what Sausage did to him, nor will he forget that Sausage was the cause of Jimmy's fall from grace – but he will forgive him.

#ask response #prismadog rambles #empires smp fanfiction #corrupted jimmy au #the cod alliance - the codvengers #scott smajor #mythical sausage

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wordstro · 2 years

Text

thinking about hero/villain au and the years y/n missed and here’s a couple things:

wooyoung always let them escape. he called off y/n after they hit hongjoong over and over and over again until their hands were covered in blood, eyes blank, and wooyoung looked yunho and san and mingi in the eyes, one by one, and said, “next time you get in my way, i’ll have them kill you. your blood will be on their hands and they’ll blame themselves. is that what you want?”

for a while, they disappeared underground (oh how the tables have turned) and they took his words to heart. but eventually they couldn’t turn a blind eye to the way wooyoung and the villain alliance took over the country, the way they flipped the script and allowed superpowered people to treat those without powers as subhuman. hongjoong, yunho, mingi, and san started retaliating, especially when they found out that the villain alliance was testing newer versions of the serum on non-super powered people.

each time next time came around, wooyoung never kept his word. and wooyoung always kept his word. he would always stop shy of fatally hurting them and threaten them with death ‘next time’. it was almost like he was playing a game.

yunho mentioned once that maybe wooyoung missed them and their choreographed battles. “don’t be an idiot,” san scoffed, “they’re not our friends.”

(mingi, yunho, and hongjoong continued pulling punches against wooyoung, seonghwa, yeosang, y/n, and especially jongho. despite everything.)

it took another 2 years for yeosang to leave wooyoung’s side. wooyoung did not trust him as he used to, but he still kept yeosang by his side as his right hand. “you’re going to fix what you did and earn my trust back. you owe me that much,” wooyoung said, repeatedly. and yeosang agreed. all he knew was following wooyoung wherever he went anyway.

the night of the raid, seonghwa kneeled by yeosang’s prone form and changed the towels over his burnt skin, shushing him whenever he whimpered in pain. wooyoung had watched for a moment, leaning against the door hinge, before he pushed himself off the frame and left, shutting the door behind him. seonghwa’s voice was hoarse as he asked, “was it worth it?” it did not sound accusing or bitter, only genuine. thoughtful. yeosang nodded.

two years later, seonghwa sent yeosang on a mission to rid the city of the whispering of an uprising. when yeosang told the hooded figure sharing the meeting location under the bridge across town to turn around and put their hands up, when yeosang yanked his hood from his eyes with the intent to pull as much information from them before instructing them to drown themselves in the river, choi san stared back him. yeosang expected vengeful anger, but all that was left was exhaustion and resignation.

yeosang let san go, bracing himself for the punch to the face he knew he deserved. instead san tackled him into a hug and pressed his fingers to just below the burns on his face and said nothing, only held him so so tight. but that’s all it took for yeosang to burst into tears, blubbering like an idiot as he clutched the back of san’s hoodie like he was his only lifeline.

“i looked everywhere for you that night.” san said into the crook of his neck while yeosang sobbed, “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry.”

he finally left then - for good - and sometimes he wondered if seonghwa knew he’d find san at the end of his assignment, if seonghwa knew seeing san was all it took for him to finally leave. the night he left, he visited y/n, sat with his head against the wall beside them, and he said, “i’ll find a way to get you out of here too. one day.” and you’d continued staring blankly ahead and all he could do was squeeze your hand and leave. the next time he saw wooyoung, opposite him rather then at his side as he always was, wooyoung did not look surprised or as angry as he had the day he burned yeosang’s face. yeosang wondered then, briefly, if wooyoung knew seeing san would be all it took for yeosang to leave him, too.

#ateez scenarios #hero/villain au #wait let me know if there’s any specific u want to know from that universe bc i kinda wanna expand on it 😅

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abbysfrenchbraid · 4 years

Text

Kissed by a Wolf - Chapter 1

Masterlist / Playlist for reading

The f!reader is a servant to an English lord, when one day Eivor raids their village and takes the reader and others with her as prisoners.

For this chapter there is a big content warning for graphic violence, suicide, death, abuse, and blood. If you want to know what exactly happens regarding to specific triggers, feel free to message me and I'll let you know or give you a censored version.

Inspo Picture by @anaakeart

Chapter 1: Cutting Ties

You were kneading dough on the big wooden kitchen table when Henry rushed in, out of breath and red-faced from the cold outside. He was the head of the servants and had been tasked by your lord to prepare a feast for tonight. You had been cooking since before sunrise and everyone in the village was excited for tonight. Lord William’s wife and daughters were decorating the house and preparing an enormous bonfire in the center of the village. Delia, one of the daughters, was supposedly getting engaged tonight, forging important alliances with the neighbor shire.

“How are you holding up, Y/N? Everything according to schedule?” Henry asked, placing a friendly hand on your shoulder and squeezing it in reassurance.

You wiped your sweaty forehead with your upper arm before taking a knife to cut intricate little patterns into the dough, William’s emblem in the middle of them. This was the last loaf of bread, two dozen were already cooling off in the corner.

“Everything seems to be going well so far,” you said, “is the bonfire ready?”

Before Henry could answer, you heard loud sobbing in the corridor, accompanied by footsteps coming closer. The door sprang open and Delia stumbled into the kitchen, holding her cheek and crying inconsolably. Henry was quick to help her to a chair before dipping a towel into the water basin and holding it to her face.

“Did he hit you again?” he asked with a tenderness in his voice that made you look up at them. Delia had laid her hand on top of his and looked at him through a veil of tears, only managing to nod in response. She grabbed his linen shirt and pulled him closer, burying her face in his side.

Oh no. This wasn’t good.

“I told him I don't want to get engaged to some old, wrinkly toad. He screamed at me, saying I had no worth to him and the only way to put daughters to use was to marry them off. I couldn’t help myself, I said that I loved someone else and he struck me four times for it. I can’t be seen like this tonight!”

She was right. A bruise was already forming on her cheek and brow bone, no one would take a battered bride. William had always wanted sons. Because his wife hadn’t given him any, he let his anger out on her and his daughters as he pleased. He was a tyrant, but there was nothing anyone could do. He was the lord.

You used a wooden shovel to put the last loaf of bread in the stone oven, then you left the unlucky couple alone in the kitchen and tried to find Eda, Delia’s sister. You met her in the stables, her head pressed against the neck of her beautiful red mare. She was mumbling to her and the horse stood perfectly still, seeming to listen and provide comfort to the young woman. You announced yourself by clearing your throat and Eda turned to look at you. Her face was tear-streaked. Oh, what a day.

“Miss Eda?” you tried to keep a light tone. “Your sister isn’t well. I think it might be best for you to come and take a look at her.”

Eda gave you a solemn nod, rubbed over the mare’s soft nose in parting and followed you back to the kitchen. As you entered, you could see that Delia had stopped crying and Henry was applying a salve to her face. The air was filled with the scent of mint and lavender alongside the wonderful smell of freshly baked bread.

“Oh, sweet sister.” Eda rushed to Delia’s side and cupped her face in her hands. “What have you done?”

Delia pressed her lips together and Henry helped her out.

“She told Milord that she wouldn’t marry anyone for him. He was furious.”

“Damn this place.” Eda suddenly blurted out. She stood up and balled her hands into fists. “He can’t treat us like this, we’re his daughters, his own flesh and blood. He can’t just sell us off like cattle!”

You and Henry exchanged a quick glance, both holding your breaths. She was right, but you were not allowed to make any remarks of that kind. Delia started crying again, but Eda slammed her hand on the table in frustration. You knew the feeling too well.

Suddenly Henry straightened up. “Y/N, what’s that smell?”

Fuck. The bread.

Quickly you pulled it out of the oven, but it was already coal-black and hard as stone. You threw it on the table. The kitchen immediately filled with the stench of burned grain. How much could go wrong in one day? You couldn’t picture it getting any worse than this.

You were in for a surprise.

The door suddenly banged open and the small frame of Lord William, II. of his name, entered the kitchen.

“What is this? Are you all conspiring against me? Sitting around while I do all the work! Unforgivable!” he bellowed, pointing his fingers at each one of you.

“Delia, stop this madness, you ungrateful wench! You have the opportunity to honor this house and here you sit, moping and wailing! I should sell you to the Danish savages!”

Delia cried out in horror and ran out of the kitchen. No one dared to follow her.

William’s gaze fell on the burned bread on the table. His face became even redder than before, a thing you had not thought possible. With one step he was in front of you, grabbing your shoulder with icy, piercing fingers and shaking you.

“You useless, stupid girl! I do not pay you to burn my hard-earned grain! Do you know how much I am paying for this day? This will cost you your week’s earnings, mark my words!”

He let go of you and was about to turn to Eda when you answered: “There are two dozen perfect loaves with your emblem ready for this night. I was taking care of your wounded daughter.”

Before you had even the chance to regret this remark, he had whirled around and struck you with the back of his hand. He hit you so hard that you flew back against the shelves, tearing down vases of onions and carrots with you in a terrible cacophony of Eda screaming, clay breaking, and the ringing in your ears. His seal ring had caught your cheekbone, blood instantly beginning to flow down your face and neck. You were paralyzed for a second, struggling to breathe as you lay between the broken pots and vegetables and stared at William, still in disbelief at what had happened.

There was a flicker in his eyes, just the hint of realization that he had gone too far. He huffed and turned on his heel, then he was out the door.

Henry fell to his knees next to you and tried to pull you up to a seated position. You could feel the blood spreading downward through the fabric of your dress and warming your chest. Eda was still paralyzed, staring at you from the table.

“Miss Eda, a cloth, please!” Henry commanded. She caught herself and grabbed Delia’s cloth before rushing to your side. Henry gently dabbed the wet fabric on your cheek and while Delia began cleaning your neck and chest with another towel.

“Y/N? Can you hear me? How are you feeling?” he asked, trying to suppress the panic and concern in his voice. You looked at him and managed to croak: “I’m alright.”

“Good. This is going to need stitches, and quickly.” He stood up and grabbed a bottle of brown liquor from the top shelf, handing it to Eda. “Give her this. She’ll start feeling the pain in a minute.”

He rummaged around in a small chest next to the door and found a needle and thread. You took the opened bottle from Eda’s hands and quickly gulped down a good amount before it could start to burn in your throat. Your head started spinning almost immediately.

“I had to do this a lot when I was in the army. I’ll try to be quick.” He gave you an apologetic smile as he crouched down next to you, then he went to work.

Eda left at some point to look for Delia, taking the bread with her to give it to the pigs. Henry had helped you up and sat you on a chair in the corner before starting to clean up the terrible mess. You slowly came back to yourself and to reality, feeling dizzy from the blow and the liquor but glad about the fog in your mind finally clearing up.

After an hour or so, you got up and back to work, starting to assort the cheese and meat platters and sending after a few other servants to carry them to the table. Henry helped you at first, but then he had to go and make sure everything was set and ready. After there was nothing else to do in the kitchen, you went to your chamber to change into your more formal clothes.

A metal plate was hung on the wall next to your door to serve as a mirror. As you stood in front of it and held a candle up to your face, you didn’t recognize yourself. Your left eye was swollen almost completely shut, your cheek was a dark, almost black purple and the wound was held together by four stitches. It was still seeping blood occasionally, but when you wiped it off there was no real difference.

You took off your dusty, flour-stained linen dress and managed to put on your black dress with the white apron and bonnet. This evening would stretch forever and sleep seemed years away. Now you were really wishing for another swig of that cheap servant’s whiskey.

The feast began without any further incidents. Lord Wulfred from the shire north of yours had actually come and was sitting next to William and opposite your Lady at the head of the table. You stayed in the shadow, keeping an eye on the table and advising the other servants to get more wine or bring more cheese at times. Delia sat next to Wulfred, a man in his fifties, almost as wide as he was tall. His grey beard was yellow around his mouth and food got stuck in hit as he ate. His promised bride looked miserable. You could see she was holding hands with her sister next to her, trying hard to keep her composure.

As the meal came to an end and the table had almost vanished under a heap of gnawed off bones, crumbs, cheese rinds, and fruit stones, William rose from his chair, holding a bronze cup in his hand.

It got silent in a matter of seconds. Delia’s face was as white as snow, her fingers desperately clinging to her sister. Wulfred was gulping down beer and it was trickling out of the corners of his mouth into his beard. Poor Delia.

“I have assembled you all here tonight because there is a special occasion, one that calls for a second celebration very soon.” William was relishing in the attention of his guests and savoring every word. “As some of you may know, my eldest daughter Delia has now reached an age where there is more to do for her than sitting around all day and eating me out of house and home.” He laughed and all the men in his audience joined in, hollering and raising their cups in approval while the few women at the table smiled politely.

“It is for that very reason that Wulfred and I have come -”

There was a bang outside and you could hear men’s voices yelling, sounding alarmed. William’s face distorted into a sour grimace, angry about the ruined tension. Another loud noise, now downstairs inside the house, caused a few people to jump up from their seats.

“Everybody calm down. Henry, see what’s going on,” William said and motioned to the door. Henry gave Delia a short, but deeply meaningful look, then he vanished into the dark corridor. Now you could hear metal clanking outside and finally, someone rang the alarm bell. Everyone stirred now, some people running to the windows or pulling weapons.

Wulfred got up with difficulty and waddled to one of the windows as well. He stuck his head into the small frame and immediately snapped back around. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, an arrow pierced his head from the back, the bloody tip sticking out in front of his surprised eyes. He fell to the floor with a thump and let out a last huff, then he lay still and one of the women started shrieking in horror.

There was noise on the stairs now and suddenly Henry reappeared, his shirt torn down the middle and a gash on his shoulder. He shut the door behind him and called to the other servants who immediately pushed a big chest in front of it, barricading the entry for the moment.

“Milord, Vikings are attacking the village. Their leader is a colossal woman. It must be the She-Wolf from Norway.” He was breathing heavily and braced himself on one of the chairs to keep himself standing up.

Something was ramming the door in a slow, steady rhythm. The heavy chest moved ever so slightly with every new blow. You whistled to get the other servants’ attention and waved them over into your corner. You were terrified, but you tried to seem calm and collected so the others wouldn't panic.

“We are not their targets, we have nothing to our names. If you want to fight, fight. I will not risk my life for this tyrant. Everyone who wants to live can stay here with me.” No one moved. You nodded. “Thank the lord. Now let us sit down, fold our hands, and pray.”

With a deafening crash, the door exploded into the room and a tall, broad-shouldered woman with long blonde hair and gruesome black paint around her eyes jumped through the hole in the wood and over the chest. Four men followed, swords drawn. The she-wolf let her eyes wander over the faces in the room, the men with their daggers and swords, the women behind them and William in the middle. Then her gaze fell on you. You had told all the other servants to sit behind you, bow their heads and show their empty hands in their laps while you sat before them, willing to do whatever it took to protect your chosen family. You locked eyes with the Viking woman and your blood froze in your veins as she narrowed her eyes for a second, then she turned to William.

“Are you Lord William, master of this shire?”

Delia and Henry were slowly crawling along the wall toward you and managed to sit down next to you without getting too much attention. Their fingers were intertwined, tears were streaming down Delia’s face and Henry held her close as he watched the scene in front of you unfold.

“I am.” William proudly lifted his chin. “Who are you, Viking whore, to come into my house uninvited?”

The men behind the she-wolf laughed, but she just lifted an eyebrow and laid her hand on the handle of her sword. It was still sheathed. She seemed incredibly calm during all this.

“This is no longer your house. The decision is yours: die at the hands of my men or give up now and come with us as prisoners.”

The stare she gave William pierced him like a spear, making him writhe underneath its sting and making you hope to never become the target of her wrath.

William shook his head and huffed, then he lifted his sword.

“We will not cower before you, Viking whore. For England!” he bellowed and the other men repeated the war cry before storming towards the small group of warriors.

The woman unsheathed her sword in the blink of an eye and the men behind her jumped forward to meet the English guests. You saw the chance immediately. Slapping Henry‘s knee, you nodded toward the opening in the door. He alerted Delia and she silently agreed. Both of them crawled on all fours, staying low and going along the walls until they had reached the door and quickly climbed out. You wished them the best of luck and said a prayer in their wake. You couldn't leave the others behind. You would stay, no matter what happened, no matter how terrified you were.

The fight was quick, one of the Vikings caught a sword to his arm and bled from a mean gash but the others stayed unharmed. They killed their opponents in a matter of minutes and did not shy away from killing some of their wives who had also drawn knives in hopes of defending themselves. In the end, there was only your group and William’s wife with two other women left. And Eda, standing in a corner all alone.

The two women fell to their knees and swore to follow and to serve if their life was spared. Your Lady however stayed standing up, her chin raised and her eyes filled with terrible sadness and immense pain.

“I have served all my life. I have endured beatings, rape, and being treated like an animal.” Eda whimpered next to you as she realized what was about to happen. Her mother pulled a tiny dagger from her sleeve and held it gently in her hand. The she-wolf motioned for her men to wait.

“I will not bow my head to anyone else. This suffering has to end.“ She gave a loving, sorrowful look to her daughters, then she turned the dagger toward herself and drove it into her chest. Eda cried out and tumbled towards her mother, catching her mid-fall and cradling her head in her lap as blood began to pool on the floor.

The Viking woman turned to you and took a few steps in your direction. She looked down at you with a curious twinkle in her eye. You clenched your fists, asking God for assistance.

„And who are you?“ she asked, her deep voice suddenly much kinder. You forced yourself to breathe in and straighten up.

„We were Lord William‘s servants. We have no love left for him. We will go with you freely.“ You held out your empty hands for her to see. „I am not your enemy.“

She took one of your hands and pulled you up, not letting go of your hand as she stared into your eyes. You let out a shaky breath, but held her gaze.

„You're still English,“ she said before letting go of you and taking a few steps back, not turning from you. Of course she wouldn’t trust you.

„Bind them and take them to the ship.“ she ordered her men, then she pushed the heavy chest away from the door like it was nothing. She simply pulled the door frame, which was in shambles, out of the wall and let it fall to the ground. Then she was gone.

#eivor #lady eivor #ac valhalla #eivor x reader #lady eivor x reader #f!eivor #f!eivor x reader #eivor fanfiction #female eivor #ac valhalla fanfiction

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bestworstcase · 3 years

Note

Your opinion on diadem au zhan tiri ?

😭 my beloved

oh boy

further thoughts under the cut because i have some highly controversial™️ things to say

& to be clear. yes i read the entire fic.

so. the premise here is there are “mythics,” a group encompassing both magical creatures and human mages, and at some point an indeterminate amount of time prior to the beginning of the story, the kingdom of corona drove its mythics out and pressured five of the other seven kingdoms into signing the “mythic accords,” which made it illegal for mythics to exist in these countries. diadem—the dark kingdom analogue, this is a dark prince cassandra AU—was the only country to abstain.

zhan tiri’s family (henceforth zitifam) were among the coronan mages forced out of their homes. they, and six kingdoms worth of other refugees, sought asylum in diadem. the zitifam pledged fealty to the crown of diadem and ultimately became established as a family of court mages and advisors. further notes:

1 - a fan wrote an epistolary fanfic of the fic that is an account of a group of child refugees coming from corona to diadem, which reveals in the end that these children are the orphaned offspring of mythics whom corona disappeared when they resisted the forced exile. this is directly referenced as an in-universe text in the final chapter of diadem proper, so it can be considered as ‘canon’ within the universe of the au.

2 - while it’s unclear precisely when all of this happened, it began a long time ago; in chapter 18, zhan tiri describes her family’s desire for vengeance as “centuries-old.”

3 - diadem’s streets are evidently “overflowing with mythic refugees with nowhere else to go.”

4 - 18 years ago, there was a “peaceful advocate group” of mythics known as the nightingales. their approach to reversing the mythic accords involved “lend[ing] their magic to anyone who needed help,” with the intention of “showing the people that magic is nothing to be afraid of and encouraging them to open their minds.”

king frederic turned to them for help when arianna fell ill whilst pregnant with rapunzel. their leader, an unnamed sorceress, agreed to help in exchange for the lifting of the accords in corona. it’s a little unclear precisely what happened, but the story as recounted by rapunzel (who learns of this via a vision) seems to imply that frederic intended to execute this woman after arianna was saved, and she chose to kill herself first and, in the process and unbeknownst to frederic, bequeath her magic to rapunzel.

after the apparent murder of their leader, the nightingales planned an uprising—but rapunzel was kidnapped before they could enact this plan, and frederic assumed they were to blame and raided their homes, arresting and imprisoning or exiling every mythic the guards could catch. lady caine was among the children orphaned by these raids; her father fled to diadem without her, settled down and got married, went eighteen years without trying to contact her, and kept on with the “peaceful advocacy” thing because he is a useless bootlicking centrist.

anyways,

5 - the pertinent part of #3 and #4 is that the situation in corona is ongoing. the original purges and creation of the accords happened centuries ago, enforcement appears to have lapsed for a while, and under frederic’s reign corona’s persecution of mythics ramped up again, resulting in a second purge around eighteen years ago and subsequent decades of extreme hostility. when rapunzel is outed as a mage, frederic sets the royal guard on her, that’s how bad it is. even the literal princess of corona is not safe.

6 - further, in chapter 8, it is implied that the mythic accords may have required that participating nations intercept mythics fleeing through their borders (to what end is unclear; imprisonment or execution seems likely, but we learn this by way of arianna noting that antipe chose *not* to intervene when mythic refugees passed through en route to diadem, in defiance of the accords). antipean scholars recorded the stories of these refugees and collected artifacts and enchanted heirlooms from them which are now housed in the spire. it is worth noting that when the accords are repealed in the final chapter, these items are not returned to their rightful owners.

7 - arianna, who is antipean, privately thinks the accords are bad and expresses that she has “no personal grief” with mythics and “looks back with fondness” on mythic friends she met as a young woman, but she has done nothing about this because “that matters little when you are the queen of Corona.” her hands are tied—until frederic chases rapunzel out of corona, at which point she finds the wherewithal and public support to stage a coup against her husband within a matter of days. rapunzel is a mythic and likewise just kind of sits on her ass doing nothing except pining for cass and occasionally angsting about how her father hates mythics, until the point where she’s driven out of her home, at which time her first priority is reconciling with cass and her second priority is making sure corona doesn’t face any consequences. she can understand genocide but she draws the line at going to war to stop genocide. and prince cass i’m pretty sure isn’t even aware that there’s a refugee crisis happening in her own kingdom because she is an ignoramus. our heroes, ladies and gentlefolk.

hokay. i’m pretty sure that covers everything.

it is never referred to as such in the text of the story itself, but… calling it what it is, the premise of the diadem au is that corona instigated a centuries-long genocide of mythics, resulting in a massive refugee crisis in the one kingdom that refused to participate. the zitifam escaped this genocide, eventually secured a high station in the country that offered them asylum, and now seek to use their influence to persuade diadem’s queen edith declare war against corona and end things once and for all. this is framed, in the story, as a cruel and selfish desire for revenge, but like.

um.

corona is actively doing genocide? hello??

anyway, diadem zhan tiri.

she gets her first POV section in chapter 10, which establishes her basic goals (inciting war against corona to avenge the lives destroyed by corona’s genocide and put an end to it) and also establishes that she is viscerally terrified of her own family because she will be “disowned or worse” if she fails to accomplish this. (she is also baffled to discover that prince cass actually cares about someone, which is funny because she’s completely right, considering how utterly miserable, paranoid, and unpleasant cass is in this au)

she discovers at this point that cass’s mysterious “friend” is the princess of corona and that they’re meeting up every couple weeks to fuck in the woods. she is, understandably, alarmed by this, and takes immediate and drastic steps to interfere with their relationship before cass can do something crazy like pursue a closer alliance with corona, the kingdom that is engaged in genocide against zhan tiri’s people,

which is to say, zhan tiri makes a pact with demons to grant herself enough power to singlehandedly incite a war, in exchange for her own life. it is…pretty clear that she considers this to be a desperate last resort, and she psyches herself up for it by thinking about the anguish of her family and the plight of all the impoverished refugees living in diadem. i. i’m not even exaggerating here:

Zahn Tiri closes her eyes, breathing deeply as she disrobes. Her heart pounds in her chest, as though begging her to reconsider this desecration, but she tightens her grip on the blade’s hilt and banishes her doubts. She thinks of the sorrow in her elders’ faces when they speak of their regrets that they will likely not live to see their homeland again. She thinks of Diadem’s streets, overflowing with mythic refugees with nowhere else to go. She thinks of the stubborn queen, of how she only needs one good reason to send her warriors marching on Corona. She thinks of the day that King Frederic falls on a Diadem blade, repaying the debt of blood that he owes.

in chapter 13, we learn a bit more about what exactly zhan tiri does to herself:

This ritual is irreversible, and corrupts the magic and the very life-force of the caster forever. Such practices are incredibly dangerous, and have historically been attempted only by the very desperate. In addition to risking their own lives, mythic clans and societies do not hesitate to banish practitioners of dark magic.

and she uses this power to - rapid fire plot summary:

1 - cast a decay spell on cassandra’s hand a la RATGT in such a way that it appears to be a failed assassination attempt by rapunzel

2 - persuades queen edith to declare war against corona

3 - does her damnedest to manipulate cass into going along with this

4 - when she’s caught, flees and transforms into a massive monster a la Plus Est to attack corona by herself

which. like. good for her? good for her.

she’s canon cass with a heroic motive. she’s canon cass if the reason cass took the moonstone was to literally stop a genocide. i… i don’t know how else to say it SKDJFKSKS

1 - self-sacrificing to the point of self-destruction

2 - burning up with rage over the real injustices done to her (& her people)

3 - only “friend” is a prince(ss) with no empathy who never listens to a word she says and doesn’t give a damn about her problems

4 - out of sheer desperation turns to a dangerous and destructive source of power in order to achieve her goals

and the key difference between them is that when canon cass loses her shit it’s because she’s trying frantically to prove that she matters and when diadem zhan tiri loses her shit it’s because she is TRYING. TO. STOP. A. GENOCIDE.

meanwhile the “heroic” characters suggest that hating corona is just as bigoted and wrong as corona’s genocidal hatred of mythics, that going to war is wrong because it would be “catastrophic” and “people are going to die,” and that the right way to end literal centuries of genocide is to politely ask the people in charge to please stop because anger is bad and violent resistance is never okay.

and then like after she turns into a monster and attacks the coronan palace, cass and rapunzel kill her and everything is okay because arianna staged a coup and they can just repeal the mythic accords! and at the end when rapunzel feels vaguely uncomfortable with the fact that they killed zhan tiri, cass is like don’t be! she was awful and deserved to die! and it makes me want to yeet myself into the stratosphere.

i just 😭😭 diadem zhan tiri

she deserved so much better my heart aches

#TLDR i love her with all my heart #and she does nothing wrong

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echo-three-one · 3 years

Text

Whatever It Takes

Sequel to A Forgotten Memory

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

With more and more information revealed via Augustus' burner phone, The team now has to make an important decision, one that would change the course of their lives, forever.

Chapter 15 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Previous Chapter : Meet Me Halfway

Unexpected Alliances

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

Task Force 141

Flying above Russian Airspace

Roach was speechless. Admittedly the dark and messy battle at the Gulag was something worth noting but the thing that kept his head preoccupied at the moment was Soap and France kissing in the middle of warfare.

Guess love knows no boundaries huh. He thought to himself as he looked at France kneeling beside Soap who passed out from exhaustion. Another person laying beside him was an old man named Jack. The 141 records had a match to Jack, he's apparently Alex's mentor who got missing when their safehouse got raided.

Guess the force will be having two reunions tonight. His eyes turned to Price, who sat by the huge window and gazed into the sea of clouds, he's always serious and in thought that Gary found him intimidating, even after that short mission in Germany.

Then there was Ghost. He's surely heartbroken now that she saw what France did. And Gary was slightly to blame, well not necessarily his fault but if he pushed him enough to confess, maybe this won't hurt more than it did to him today.

Gary spent the rest of the trip observing, noting his comrade's actions, discussing with their thoughts, especially after the invasion. He was glad 141 extracted Soap before the deliberation, where none of them are allowed to perform missions. Gary felt scared, he just got here, got the hang of it, and was afraid to cut ties with the 141 on such short notice. But he hoped Shepherd would talk sense to the board, especially now that the burner phone filled with leads was within their possession.

"You're awfully quiet…" Ghost nudged to Gary while fidgeting with his gun.

"Well, I got nothing to talk about." Gary replied, turning to the masked man.

"Well I've got a lot, and it's pretty nasty. Can't say it here though." He replied, his tone was almost relieved, as if he just blurted out something that was bothering him for a long time.

"Is it about them?" Gary whispered, pointing his thumb to the couple back at the med bay.

"That's a different story, and I told you I was right, they already had a thing going on since day 1. Who am I to interfere…" Gary could feel him frown beneath the mask, he got defeated in the war of love.

"That's okay… You'll find someone better." Gary consoled and Ghost automatically shrugged it off.

"Eh. I hope…" he said, turning to the window opposite to Gary's position.

Task Force 141 Base - Infirmary

"The audio from this room's camera is muted so it's best to discuss it here." Ghost sat on the chair as concerned 141 members circled around him, Jack, Alex and Soap occupied the beds as they recovered from injuries.

"What you got for us, lad?" Price crossed his arms as he leaned by the door, his hat tilted perfectly on his head.

"An anonymous number sent Augustus coordinates of the base prior to the attack." He held up the phone and everyone murmured.

"Looks like we have another mole in our hands." Alex grunted, turning to Jack for nostalgia.

"But this time, we have a solid lead to who it is…" Ghost added while everyone braced themselves for the slap of reality they're going to get.

From out of nowhere the infirmary doors opened, Maxine was panting and sobbing at the same time, her hands held her thigh desperately enduring some sort of pain.

"It's Samantha… haaah… Shepherd took her!..." she panted as Gary quickly assisted him while everyone who was capable of fighting dashed to the scene.

"Go, Gary. I'll take care of her." Soap quickly got up with Jack, they were already fine and just required to complete their nutrition so assisting her would be the best option.

Gary nodded and dashed outside, bracing himself for the unbearable news.

"Shit. What's going on! I thought we already agreed not to take Samantha elsewhere!" Gary caught up with Ghost and the rest of the available team.

"I have my wild guess, but you're not going to like it." He replied, adjusting his shades as they exited the building. From there, they saw the General's aircraft already far away from their reach. Behind them Alex, Soap, Jack and Maxine followed, their faces were drawn with extreme sadness.

A few seconds of staring at the sky and Price's comms received an incoming message.

"Captain, I regret to inform you that the 141 is no more… I'm sending the High Value Individual to their care as the threat escalated and is being designated to a different force. I'm sorry. Please tell the rest of the group that in two weeks they will be returned to their prior assignments before 141 was established." his voice was nonchalant, emotionless and straightforward, like he's reading it from a diner table's tissue paper.

"No…" Price muttered. They were this close to Nero. The rest of the team looked down, others started to disperse and did as ordered while the more concerned group stayed.

"Shepherd's working with Nero. He wants the EMP based weaponry to help his marines in Afghanistan." Ghost blurted, raising the heads of everyone around him.

"He's trading the economical side of the world to win a war?" Gary asked, as the information doesn't add up.

"It's a wild guess but the global economic pressure is already influencing the government to allocate more funds to anti terrorism. Cutting off 141 shouldn't be in play but he found a way to do so… He wants us to stop fighting back."

"Then fighting back is what we're going to do." Price muttered, grabbing his phone.

"I'm going to make a few phone calls. Those who want to stay and save the world could stay. Those who are content to return to their past lives, you could leave."

"What about me?" Maxine asked, raising her hand.

"Come with us, We'll take care of you while it's not safe out." Gary said, almost pleading her to say yes.

"I don't have anyone else but France and Samantha. I don't know where to go from here…"

"Then that settles it. Nikolai will take us somewhere safe. If the 141 is no more, we could still salvage weapons and ammo for ourselves. But after this, there's no turning back." Price added, his voice sparked inspiration to everyone.

And that was it, from that moment. They've gone rogue, for a good cause. And they have to defeat Nero, Whatever it takes.

The Next Step

John Price

Task Force 141 - Disbanded

Former Task Force 141 Base - Helipad

A small group of his comrades were willing enough to stop the war, even at the cost of losing a lot of privileges. Price was always one to work under strict jurisdiction, and this rogue act he's going to commit will be backed up soon, it's going to be dependent on how Laswell influences the board.

The idea was easy. Create another task force which had to be approved prior to the 141's disbandment so that the papers for their redeployment would never be processed. Of course a few strings needed to be pulled and an organization must be able to absorb them. Interpol was willing to help along with Jack's influence to the CIA and Price was lucky enough to have them two on their side.

And there they were, with Nikolai's majestic aircraft, they set course to a temporary camp thanks to Jack. Price noted that he'd get along with the CIA, given they're age similarities and stance toward warfare.

He surveyed his trusty crew and took note of their abilities. There's Alex, former CIA and fought alongside him in Verdansk and Urzikstan. He's got a clear objective and will and it doesn't matter to Price whether its love or world peace. He's good at terrible hostile locations and can single-handedly turn the tide of war by local agreements and persuasion. A good weapon.

Then there's Simon Riley, or Ghost. Excellent Sniper, the team's tech guy. He's a keeper, his ability to reject emotions while in combat makes him focused and a keen observer. He also excels in weapon usage. You give him anything with a trigger and he'll be sure to hit enemies no matter what.

Another one is John MacTavish, or Soap, what kind of a name is Soap? Price thought. Price looked at the muppet proudly. He rose among his comrades during recruitment and stood at the top of his batch, showing exemplary combat skills and demolitions expertise. Excellent at handling air support machinery and his keen eye never misses a tango hiding from the field. He's got it tough recently, Price believed luck wasn't on his side that's why he got injured a lot.

There's Gary Sanderson or Roach. Price calls him the team's therapist. He sees the willingness to help from the guy. He's eager to train hard and be better and he was impressed on how he handled the German Infilnitration they did together. He has initiative and a clear goal. Something useful at these times.

There's Francine Winters, France a.k.a. Shepherd's prodigy, the last minute addition. He's still quite skeptic as to why she's placed here, but so far he knew that with her sister mentally disturbed by the enemies she's bound to use her emotions as ammunition. She's great at stealth and close combat especially great for breaking and entering missions. She could be trained of open area battles and she has the drive to do so, making her another good addition to the team.

As for the remaining ones, Jack and Maxine, he has no idea yet but them tagging along and using their resources to the fight would greatly increase their chances of killing Nero and destroying the era of EMP machinery.

"Looks like you got yourself a pretty nice team, pal." Jack patted the Former captain's shoulder.

"Yeah. Small enough to remain secret and powerful enough to defeat Nero." he muttered. Jack held his phone and showed it to Price.

"I got us a place. An old CIA Safehouse."

"Are you sure this is going to be okay?"

"Positive. This one's not used for decades. Classified as dormant and unmaintained. It's situated near a city that once housed a lot of terror activity but after it got neutralized it became very peaceful." Jack convinced. Price no longer hesitated, the team needed the help they can get.

"As long as we're under the radar." He replied and gave Nikolai the coordinates. From there they would begin their revenge toward Nero's attack, plan Samantha's rescue, and discover what Shepherd is really up to...

One step at a time.

Doing everything they can.

To set things right.

Whatever it Takes.

END OF PART 1

Wild ride first half. I hope you stay for the second part right around the corner!

Notification Squad my beloved 💝

@smokeywhalee @samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @ricinbach @beemybee @whimsywispsblog

#horRAYfic #whateverittakes #john price #simon ghost riley #gary roach sanderson #john soap MacTavish #alex echo 3 1 #cod #codmw

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worryinglyinnocent · 3 years

Text

Fic: Forged Through Fire (1/13)

Summary: Amestris. Once democratic, now a military dictatorship. Prohibition is strict; personal freedoms curtailed. All alchemists must be state-licensed or face imprisonment. Foreigners are met with suspicion. It’s a grim place and a grim time, but there are some people able to bring a little light to the world. Behind an innocent-looking bookshop, speakeasy proprietor Chris Mustang has formed an unlikely alliance with unlicensed alchemist Van Hohenheim to provide alcohol to those who want it and medical care to those who need it. When Riza’s newly complete tattoo becomes infected, Roy brings her into this underworld, little knowing the way it will change their lives in the future – uncovering the secrets of the mythical Philosopher’s Stone and the schemes of a Fuhrer hell-bent on achieving immortality, all whilst navigating what they mean to each other.

===

Rated: T

[AO3]

===

Content warning for this chapter: Domestic abuse – parent on child; parental neglect; mentions of abortion.

===

Forged Through Fire

One

From the moment Riza woke up, she knew that it was going to be a bad day. Her back felt like it was on fire, and she wondered if this was how the mannequins that Roy used for target practice felt like once he’d finished with them.

If she was being completely honest with herself then she wasn’t even surprised that this had happened. She’d been expecting it at some point; she was lucky to have made it this far into the process before it had happened.

Or, of course, she was extremely unlucky.

She got out of bed, looking down at the damp patch of sweat staining the sheets. Laundry could wait until she’d assessed the damage. Her nightgown was sticking to her, and she winced as she inched it up over her head, craning over her shoulder to try and see what was going on in the mirror.

As expected, the tattoo was horrifically infected. Considering her father’s penchant for getting the array down on her skin without much thought for anything else, including the cleanliness of his needles, it was only a matter of time before it happened. She reached round and touched the worst-inflamed parts of her skin, the final pieces of the array that he’d added a couple of days ago. The pain brought tears to her eyes and she clamped her jaws tight shut to avoid crying out.

Maybe she could just let the infection run its course and it would be fine. Riza shook her head. She didn’t really have much choice in the matter. It wasn’t like she could go to a doctor. The minute anyone saw the tattoo she’d be thrown in front of a firing squad.

Sometimes she wondered if her father even realised what he’d been condemning her to when he’d started to etch his life’s work onto her so indelibly. She’d known. She’d always known. She’d just never been in a position to contradict him.

Somehow, Riza didn’t think that it had ever crossed his mind. The most important thing in Berthold Hawkeye’s life had always been his research, and he’d always walked the line between the legal and the forbidden, never trusting the government with the full extent of his work.

Like all licensed alchemists, he had dutifully submitted his arrays for recording at the central library and received permission to use them and teach them to others.

The array on Riza’s back, however, had been put there and not on paper for the precise reason that he did not want anyone else to get their hands on it. Never mind that creating arrays and not submitting them for governmental approval was illegal and could carry a death sentence depending on the potency of the alchemy involved. Never mind that even though Riza wasn’t the one to mark her skin and couldn’t see the array to use it, she’d be the one to suffer.

There wasn’t really a lot she could do about it.

Still trying not to cry with the pain, Riza made her way to the bathroom, scrambling through the cabinets for antiseptic. There wasn’t any. Why wasn’t she surprised? At least there were bandages; although she wasn’t sure how much good they would do, they’d be better than nothing.

She heard the knock on the door below her, and then Roy’s voice as her father let him in. Of course this would have to happen on one of the days that Roy was due to come for a session, because her skin couldn’t have seen fit to start trying to kill her on a day when she didn’t have to worry about strangers in the house potentially finding out about the elephant in the room and on her back.

Not that Roy was really a stranger, though. Riza reflected on their strange relationship as she cleaned up and bandaged her back as best she could. They’d been practically living in each other’s pockets for the last two years ever since her father had taken Roy on as an apprentice, begrudgingly accepting that caveat of keeping his state license and finally realising that all the research into flame alchemy in the world would be for nothing if he simply took it with him to his grave.

Riza still didn’t really know what that made them to each other, though. She liked to think that they were friends, although he spent most of his time these days holed up in the study. The more secretive her father had become about the full array, the less time the three of them had spent together in a more social setting; Roy was no longer welcome to stay for dinner, as much as Riza was ever desperate for a conversation partner and someone to deflect her father’s attention onto.

Her father was yelling at her to brew some tea and get breakfast ready, and Riza sighed, trying to adopt as normal a stance as possible, not letting show that something was wrong and that she was in pain. Not that her father would care (although perhaps he would – if her back got really bad then it might ruin his array, after all), but she didn’t want Roy to worry about her.

She downed a couple of painkillers – government issue and barely better than sugar pills but she could hope for a kind of placebo effect – and made her way downstairs to start the day. She could hear Roy and her father arguing over his decision to join the military academy. It was the same argument they had every time. Riza had never questioned Roy’s decision; his life was his own and in a place like a Amestris, the rigid life of the military was ironically the best place to gain a modicum of freedom. If you can’t beat them, join them and all that.

“Riza? Are you ok?”

She jumped at the voice and immediately spun round; she’d been so caught up in her own thoughts that she hadn’t noticed Roy follow her out of the study after she’d collected the tea things.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? There’s blood on your back.”

“What? Shit!” She tried to look over her shoulder, finally catching a glimpse in the shiny metal of the oven door. Sure enough, spots of blood and fluid were seeping through the bandage and onto the back of her shirt.

“Riza?”

For the first time in her life, Riza could only feel utter blind panic.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.”

“Riza, you look like you’re in pain. What happened?”

“Nothing!”

“Are you…”

“MUSTANG!”

Roy rolled his eyes at the summons. “You’re not fine,” he said, with a tone of stern finality that Riza had never heard in his voice before. He turned to leave the room and return to her father, and Riza felt herself sag, leaning back against the oven. Everything had just got so much worse.

Still, at least the cold metal was nice and numbing against her back.

She wasn’t really sure how long she stayed there, back pressed against the oven door and knowing she’d leave a wet smear there when she moved away. She should probably go and hide in her room so that Roy couldn’t question her again when he left, but at the same time, there was something in the back of her mind that wanted to speak to him again.

He was concerned about her. Riza couldn’t remember the last time that someone had been concerned about her, but now that she really thought about it, Roy had always looked out for her ever since he had first come into the house. The small part of her that had not completely given up all hope was nudging her to take the potential lifeline that might have been offered and cling to it. Surely Roy, of all people, would understand. He wouldn’t shop her to the military police if she told him about the tattoo. He knew her father, after all, knew what kind of a man he was even as he continued to learn under him.

She could trust Roy.

She hoped she could trust Roy. Roy trusted her, after all. She was pretty sure her father didn’t know that he’d grown up in a speakeasy and knew more about dodging the law than any nineteen-year-old should.

Perhaps that was part of the reason why he’d chosen to join the military. It was easier to protect the people you loved if you had inside knowledge of when the raids would be going on.

Roy trusted her. Roy knew all about living in less than legal circumstances beyond your control.

She could trust Roy.

Eventually, she could hear the sounds of the day’s session coming to a close, and her father yelling for her to show Roy out. She crept out into the hallway, waiting until he’d vanished back into his study before grabbing Roy and yanking him into the kitchen, barricading the door with a chair for good measure.

“Riza? What’s going on, are you ok?”

She shushed him.

“I need help,” she admitted. “I have no idea how you can help but I’m just hoping you might be able to give me some advice.”

“OK. You’re scaring me a little. And why is the door barricaded?”

“My father.”

“Right. Enough said, sorry. So, how can I help?”

Riza took a deep breath, turned her back and took her shirt off, crossing her arms over her chest even though she knew Roy couldn’t see anything. She heard his sharp intake of breath as he looked at the stark black ink and the wet and bloody bandages.

“Oh my God, Riza… How could he have done this to you?”

“What’s done is done.”

“Riza, I’m not a doctor but this is really bad, you need to see someone.”

“How can I, Roy? It’s an unregistered array, no doctor would touch it with a bargepole, they’ll just call the cops.”

There was silence for a long time, and Riza glanced over her shoulder at him. His brow was furrowed in deep thought, looking down at his spark gloves and the simplified flame array – the legal flame array – dyed into them.

“Please don’t kick up a fuss,” she begged. “If he knows you’ve seen the full array…”

“My lips are sealed, I promise. I think I know how to help you. Can you get out of the house tonight?”

He moved past her towards the fridge and Riza scrambled to put her shirt back on, ignoring the pain as the damp fabric brushed her inflamed skin.

“Have you got anything you can use as a cold compress until then?”

“No.”

“OK, well, try putting a couple of towels in the fridge or something to try and help keep any swelling down. If you can get out tonight, meet me by the phone booth in the park at nine o’clock, I should have got something organised by then.”

Riza nodded her understanding and removed the chair from under the door handle, letting Roy out of the house. Her father would probably have passed out by then, and it wasn’t the first time she’d snuck out after dark for a breath of fresh air and freedom.

She closed her eyes, resting her forehead against the front door with a sigh. If Roy couldn’t come through for her she didn’t know what she’d do, but she trusted that he’d think of something.

She trusted that he cared enough.

“Roy, this is your aunt’s speakeasy. When they said alcohol can be used as a disinfectant, I don’t think they were talking about bathtub moonshine.”

“Madam Christmas does not serve bathtub moonshine. I’ve never pried into where she gets it, but I know it’s not out of a bathtub. Anyway, we’re not here for the alcohol.”

Riza shivered in the cool night air, looking around at the deserted street. There were never many people around after dark. There wasn’t officially a curfew in Central City, but the police presence on the streets always doubled once the sun went down, and people weren’t inclined to hang around. Not that they were inclined to hang around much in the daytime, either. Even just going to the market to get groceries, everyone walked with purpose, eyes down.

“It’s a double front. Aunt Chris rents out a couple of the back rooms to an unlicensed medical alchemist. He’s not the cheapest, but he’s the safest. And he’s kind.”

“I know what that’s code for. Great. Now everyone’s going to think I’m here because I got myself in trouble.”

“Hohenheim does a lot more than that. Actually the thing he does most is stab wounds, as you do. But I won’t deny he does do a lot of that. Is that a problem?”

“Having my illegal alchemy tattoo treated by an illegal abortionist? No, Roy, that won’t be a problem.”

They entered into the quiet bookshop that served as a front for the speakeasy. Officially it was closed, although the lights were still on in the back and there was a girl sitting behind the counter, looking bored out of her mind by the pulp fiction romance novel she was reading. She just nodded at Roy, a regular visitor enough to be trusted without getting the third degree from the doorman, and he went through to the back room, opening the door to the basement and gesturing for Riza to go through.

“After you.”

She’d been in here once, a year ago now. It had been the middle of the day at the time and the bar hadn’t been properly open, just a few die-hard regulars in the corners. It had still been an experience though. Anything that wasn’t the four walls of her house was an experience. Her father had passed out and Roy had invited her to come for a walk with him, and they’d ended up in the speakeasy. She’d just turned seventeen and her father had just started to mark her back, and she’d been feeling rebellious – if I have a tattoo that might get me killed, might as well go to a place that might get me killed too.

Despite everything, including the undercurrent of fear at being caught either by the police or by her father, Riza still felt a certain warmth towards the place. It felt like more than just an illegal bar to her. It felt like a home. Maybe because it had been Roy’s home for so long, and he had seemed so at ease and alive in there.

He wasn’t quite as easy today, but he smiled at her when she looked back over her shoulder at him as they descended the stairs and entered the bar itself. It was busier tonight, in the height of its peak time, and Riza felt extremely self-conscious as Roy guided her through the room, bypassing the bar entirely and going towards the draped off area on the back wall.

He pulled back one of the curtains to reveal a suspiciously ordinary looking door. The door itself wasn’t suspicious, it was a normal wooden door, but there was something about it that made it look out of place, as if it shouldn’t have been there – like it hadn’t been there one moment and had mysteriously appeared the next. Maybe it had. Alchemy could do all kinds of things, after all.

Roy lifted his hand to knock but stopped short and turned to her. “Do you want me to come in with you?”

Riza shook her head. “No. I’ll be ok.” Honestly, she wanted nothing more than for Roy to come in with her, because whilst she definitely trusted him, she wasn’t entirely sure she trusted anyone else in the establishment; but since she was already paranoid about people getting the wrong impression as to why she was visiting an unregistered alchemist, she didn’t want them to think that Roy was the one who had potentially got her into that non-existent state.

That said, no one in the bar seemed to be paying them any mind, all too focussed on their drinks and on each other. They were in an illegal speakeasy after all, so they didn’t have all that much room to judge her.

“Ok. Well, Trisha can always come and grab me if you need me.”

Riza didn’t ask who Trisha was, and Roy left her alone, letting the curtain drop back down behind her and cutting her off from the heavy smell of alcohol and the muffled music.

She knocked timidly.

“Come in.”

Like most average, law-abiding citizens, Riza had never been to an unlicensed doctor or alchemist before, and from the gossip she’d heard flying around about them, she’d been expecting a scene from a horror film.

She was a little taken aback when she entered a clean, well-lit room with a couch covered in crisp white sheets, no sign of bloody surgical tools anywhere. The alchemist was washing his hands in the corner and he turned as she entered.

“Hello. Riza, is it? I’m Hohenheim, pleased to meet you. Roy said something about a skin problem, but he didn’t give me any details.”

Riza nodded. “I have a tattoo on my back, it’s infected.” She paused. “It’s an illegal alchemy array. My father is licensed, but he likes to experiment.”

Hohenheim’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “On you?”

“No. Well. Not exactly. I’m just the notebook. He needs to write it down and he figured this was more secure than putting it on paper.”

“Hmm.” Although he said nothing more on the subject, there was sympathy in his golden eyes as he gestured to the couch. “If you take your top off and lie down on your front on the couch, I’ll take a look. Are you all right on your own? My wife’s just next door in the dispensary; she’ll happily come in if you would be more comfortable having another lady with you.”

“No, it’s ok.”

He turned his back as she pulled her coat and shirt off, and she saw him twitch as she let out an involuntary hiss of pain.

“I’m ready.”

His hands were warm on her back as he removed the dressings; she’d changed the bandages twice throughout the day, but she didn’t think it had made all that much difference to the infection.

“You’re in a lot of pain.” It was a statement, not a question. “It’s not as bad as it could have been, you managed to catch it early. If you’d left it any longer it might have caused some real damage.”

He draped her coat back over her. “Sit up a moment, I’ll need to draw the array.”

Riza watched as he worked straight onto the sheets with blue tailor chalk, marking out an intricate circle.

“That doesn’t look like alchemy.”

“It’s Xingese alkahestry. Far more widely used for medical purposes than destructive ones and sadly far more illegal in Amestris.”

“You’re from Xing?”

Hohenheim laughed. “No. I just spent a lot of time there.”

He glanced sideways at her and Riza noticed the golden eyes again. He might not be from Xing, but she didn’t think that he was entirely from Amestris either. Eye colour was usually a good indicator.

“Where are you from?”

“Nowhere.” There was sadness in the eyes now. “Lie back down, this won’t take a minute. It might sting a little.”

It was more like an electric shock than a sting, the lightning crackle of alchemy dancing over her skin, but when it was over, there was just blissful, blessed relief.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Hohenheim went over to the door in the corner as Riza got dressed again, tapping lightly. “Is it ready, Trisha?”

“Yes, love.” The door opened to reveal a small room barely bigger than a closet, filled from floor to ceiling with shelves of jars and bottles. A young woman wearing an apron came out and pressed a small pot into Riza’s hand.

“It’s a tea-tree salve, a natural antiseptic,” she said. “Rub it in every night before bed for a couple of weeks and everything should clear right up.”

“Thank you so much. How much do I owe you?” She’d raided the housekeeping and the scant savings she kept under her bed; she knew how much medical treatment cost ordinarily, but this was very different.

Hohenheim shook his head. “Roy paid in advance; didn’t he say?”

“Oh. No. Oh. Well. Thank you.”

She left the room, fighting her way through the curtain and out into the main room again. Roy was sitting at the bar waiting for her.

“All sorted?”

Riza nodded. “Yes, thanks.”

“Great. Can I get you a drink to calm your nerves?”

“Roy, she’s only seventeen.” Behind the bar, Madam Christmas gave her nephew a pointed look, before heaving a long sigh. “I guess there’s no legal drinking age in a country where no one’s allowed to drink anyway. Pick your poison, hun, but I’m not serving you spirits.”

Riza shook her head. “If he smells it on me there’ll be hell to pay. I should probably be getting back before he realises I’m out.”

Roy nodded, and the brief flash of sorrowful sympathy in his face did not go unnoticed. He slid off his bar stool, walking through the bar with her.

“I’ll walk you home in case of patrols.”

They didn’t speak for a long time after they left the shop, both of them lost in their thoughts. It was only once they were nearing the Hawkeye home on the outskirts of the town that Riza remembered she hadn’t thanked Roy properly.

“Hohenheim said you paid for my treatment.”

“Yeah.” Roy’s smile was sheepish in the dim moonlight. “I figured it was only fair. It’s not your fault the tattoo you had no say in getting got infected. Why should you have to pay the price for it?”

“Thank you.”

“Any time.”

They stopped at the gate, and Riza knew that if this was a romance novel of the type that the bookshop front sold, now would be the point where they would kiss and declare their undying love for each other.

It wasn’t really undying love, per se, but there was definitely something there, something that Riza could not quite define yet.

Feeling emboldened now that she was no longer in pain, she darted in and pressed a peck to Roy’s cheek. Even in the darkness, she could see the beginnings of colour coming up in his face, and she could feel that hers was just the same.

“Good night, Roy.”

“Good night, Riza.”

#FMA Brotherhood #FMA Fanfiction #Royai #Riza Hawkeye #Roy Mustang #Fic: Forged Through Fire

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queen-scribbles · 4 years

Text

Lisa Shepard vs Batarians

Behold, a meta about Lisa I’ve long wanted to write, inspired by this post about Torfan(got kinda long for just a reblog) and motivation provided by @fourthage‘s Mass Effect giveaway. (I’m much better about finishing things when I can give it a deadline, lol)

----

Lisa is my Colonist/Ruthless Infiltrator Shep, and let me tell you, that background combo made her really interesting to play(through the first two games, at least; my computer crashed before I had a chance to import her to ME3, rip) bc she has this big, glaring problem with batarians. The tl;dr is Mindoir was deeply traumatizing and no batarian ever did enough to counter the extremely negative image she has of their race as a result. (apologies for slight stream-of-consciousness rambling, I tried to rein it in, but I think I was only partially successful >.>)

So we start, obviously, on Mindoir. Lisa’s the oldest of four with three younger brothers; Justin, Finn, and Connor, and had two best friends; Javier and Laura. Life was routine and uneventful and the only thing she cared about the larger galaxy was getting to explore it with Javi and Laura after they all graduated.

And then the batarian raid happened. Lisa didn’t see her parents die, but she did see friends die in the initial attack, as well as Laura’s dad. She had to watch Finn and his best friend(Talitha) get dragged to a shuttle. She, Javi, and Laura hid in a storage shed with their remaining younger siblings(one of Laura’s sisters was gone, too) in hopes of keeping them safe. They spent the next three days in there. They were found by a few batarian patrols, somehow managed to kill them all with bare hands and makeshift weapons(or stolen, Lisa got a pistol off one she killed), even as their own numbers got picked down, younger sibling by younger sibling, and then Laura, and then Javi, until.Lisa was the last one left, memory etched with hearing her best friends and younger brothers, brothers she’d promised her parents she’d look out for, die very terrible deaths.

She was found by a couple soldiers from the rescuing Alliance patrol, and actually attacked them when they first came in the storage shed. They had to calm her down, and one went so far as to pull off his helmet so she could see they were human and weren’t going to hurt her. He introduced himself as Gabe and guided her out of her personal hell, both literally and figuratively. After everything she’d witnessed and heard and knew had happened to the colony, to her home, at the hands of the batarians, Lisa didn’t feel the least bit guilty for being glad the Alliance killed every last one of the slaving bastard scum they found. She’d lost everyone in the world she cared about to those monsters, she had every right to be glad they paid for it.

The soldier, Gabe, stuck with her until she’d made it back to Earth and escorted her to the foster home that had agreed to take her in. checked up on her a few times, offered to let her live with him and his roommates(another man and a woman, all three of them soldiers) if she wanted to. She took him up on that, and by the end of the third or fourth month, he was big brother and best friend rolled into one. Being on Earth meant she didn’t really have much(if any) direct interaction with batarians, but she was still working through her trauma and every time she heard them mentioned in news reports it was batarian pirates attacking a civilian vessel or batarian slavers raiding another colony--human, turian, whatever, all it did was reinforce her hostile view of them as a race.

She joined the Alliance military when she turned eighteen, feeling it was the best way to act out her gratitude of them saving her. She still missed her family and friends, of course, but she was healing and adjusting and while batarians still get her hackles up, she wouldn’t go out of her way to cause trouble with them. Largely because that would reflect badly on the Alliance, and she doesn’t want that. She proves to be an excellent soldier, tech genius, and near-unparalleled sniper, which is what gets her the rec for N-school(courtesy of Captain Anderson, who was Gabe’s CO. Gabe introduced them the day she enlisted). She excels in N-school(she’s always been the sort to thrive on challenge) and is clearly going to graduate with flying colors, so she and Gabe work it out--he’s coming for the ceremony, they each manage to get leave for the following week, they’re gonna spend time catching up and celebrating and just get to see each other face to face for the first time in... over a year.

And then, the week before graduation, Gabe is killed rescuing a diplomat’s kid from, you guessed it, batarian pirates(he’s one of only three KIA on that mission, which doesn’t make it sting any less)..That is when they cross the point of no return in her eyes. Two separate groups of batarians are responsible for the deaths of her family twice over. Clearly this was not a “few bad individuals” thing; this is a failing of them as a people(A people who have enslaving others enshrined as part of their culture to the point of calling it discrimination when they’re not allowed to practice it).

She is a driven, pragmatic, determined individual who wants to represent humanity and the Alliance well and so works just fine alongside every other race in Council space. She’s always willing to help, also always willing to make the hard calls to get a job done bc she learned early that people die. You can’t save everyone every time. You still try your damnedest to do it, but sometimes you can’t. And sometimes people die as a result of your decisions and you have to be able to live with that. She can.

And then TORFAN. Well, first Elysium, and then Torfan. By this point, she’s N4, risen to Commander, and absolutely willing to push her squad however hard it takes to accomplish their goal. (In any circumstances, these just happen to hit a tad closer to home than usual) The fight through Torfan’s tunnels to the pirate base is brutal, and there are several times her men point out maybe they should turn back. But she pushes on bc their mission is to take out this group of pirates. In her mind, batarians are already a threat, given their culture of slaving, piracy, and utter disregard for life and others in general. If they get away with attempting a full-scale attack like they did on a world like Elysium, they’ll be exponentially more dangerous. So there have to be repercussions and they have to be swift and they have to be brutal and unflinching and if she’s the one who doles that out so be it.

It costs her 3/4 of her squad, but they do it. They fight the pirates to the point of surrender and then Lisa shoots them anyway. Her mission was to eliminate the enemy, and she’s A) worried the batarians are surrendering as a show, with no intention of actually being prisoners, and B) convinced even if they did surrender, the Hedgemony would demand their return as “political prisoners” or something, with good odds they’d be released after just enough time this “incident” will have faded from people’s memory, and she doesn’t want to risk either. So the dozen-odd surrendering batarians still.die. And while she didn’t take pleasure or satisfaction in doing it, she doesn’t regret it either. Her thought process is somewhere along the lines of “These are sadistic, murdering, slaving scumbags, who have the audacity to ask for the mercy they would never in a million years show their victims. The galaxy is better off without them.”) She doesn’t care it gets her labelled “The Butcher of Torfan” and that people look askance at her when they know her record. She got the job done, the galaxy is just that much safer, and she’s not going to lose any sleep over batarians.

She makes N7 and gets the Spectre nomination bc she pushes herself just as hard as anyone under her command, always gets the job done, and--aside from batarians--has no issue working with other races. When it comes to anyone else; turians, asari, hanar, whoever, she’s all too happy to follow Kaidan’s “jerks and saint, just like us” philosophy and judge them on an individual basis, but--and I’ve actually had her say this in fic--”If you ever find a saintly batarian, let me know and I’ll pin a medal on their chest my-damn-self”. Between what’s known of batarians as a race and culture and her own first or second hand experience, there is nothing redeeming about them in her eyes. (And it’s a very good thing she didn’t run into any during that... week after the Talitha encounter in ME1, bc she probably would have ripped them to shreds with just her bare hands and her omnitool after hearing what that poor girl went through.) She’s not going to go out of her way to gleefully/vindictively slaughter them, but she’s not feeling too charitable or sympathetic toward them, either. If I may make a cross-franchise reference, Lisa’s feeling on batarians are very similar to how Fenris feels about mages in DA2, only unlike him, she hasn’t gotten any examples they’re not all Like That(TM).

As of the end of ME2, she has not seen any evidence to counter her view of batarians, so it’s a view she’s gonna go into ME3 holding(whenever I get around to completely redoing her game), and I don’t see her changing it much at this point. It’s a flaw, and it’s one that’s going to persist probably her entire life, but it made playing her so much fun. (especially since my two previous Shepards were 98% Paragon ANGELS who are best described as bleeding hearts. xD)

#lisa shepard #mass effect meta #hooo boy that got long #torfan #mindoir #tried to stay vague about what she saw on mindoir but if it's still bad enough i should tag let me know #mindoir was BAAAAD

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nocticulas · 3 years

Note

elena shep - 3, 6, 10, 17, 22, 25, 31 👀

thank you so much!! 👁️👁️ ❤️

questions | characters

3. Did they have a good childhood? What are fond memories they have of it? What’s a bad memory?

She did, actually! Life in Mindoir was...pretty average and quiet, actually. Nothing out of the ordinary, at least until the batarians attacked. Elena's first sixteen years of life were completely unremarkable, aside from an accident at the spaceport involving some secondary eezo exposure. Her most fond memories are when she was old enough to start helping her parents at work with minor tasks, like planting some seeds or help feed the animals they kept as livestock in the farms; when her brother was born she'd also take him so he could touch and see the animals.

An obvious bad memory is the day the batarian slavers raided the colony. Although she has by now move past what happened it is still a very upsetting memory, and she still carries some guilt over her brother not surviving and failing to protect him.

6. What were they like at school? Did they enjoy it? Did they finish? What level of higher education did they reach? What subjects did they enjoy? Which did they hate?

I assume the kids in Mindoir had a small school to attend to in one of the prefab units in the colony... When she was younger she did enjoy going to class and learning, but as she entered puberty she had a short "rebellious" phase and mostly just wanted to "get off this damn rock lost in the middle of nowhere", especially after reading so many articles on the extranet about how life was like in other most populated places that wasn't a farming colony in the Traverse.

Her education was cut short in Mindoir unfortunately, but she attended lessons from age 16 to 18 while she was in Arcturus Station, probably alongside other teens from Alliance families who were stationed there.

As for subjects...she was always good with tech and mechanics but hopeless at remembered dates and historical facts.

10. Do they like children? Do children like them? Do they have or want any children? What would they be like as a parent? Or as a godparent/babysitter/ect?

Elena likes children the normal amount I'd say? She's not crazy about them but has experience with them (she babysat her fair share of younger kids in Mindoir when she was a teenager, on top of taking care of her brother). She never thought about having children of her own because her Alliance career took up most of her time and she didn't have any serious romantic relationships or plans for the future. When the reaper war is coming to a close she decides that, if she makes it out of it alive, she'd like to adopt a couple of the many kids that were orphaned due to it.

17. Do they like to take photos? What do they like to take photos of? Selfies? What do they do with their photos?

She LOVES taking scenery pictures but absolutely LOATHES to have pics taken of herself. She's a very reserved person and gets kinda shy when a camera is pointed at her. She will if it's a special occasion (or if Kaidan asks. politely. several times. and gives his best puppy eyes) but usually it's her taking the pictures.

22. What are their favourite insults to use? What do they insult people for? Or do they prefer to bitch behind someone’s back?

All the time she spent with Wrex during their run against Saren and the geth got her used to calling people “pyjacks” when they annoyed her. She doesn’t usually insult people directly, she’s a very collected person, but when they’re out of earshot... she likes to run her mouth.

25. What do they find funny? Do they have a good sense of humour? Are they funny themselves?

Oh she’s just the worst at making jokes. Not on purpose anyway, some of her friends find her comments amusing but she rarely means for them to be funny, they just come off that way. He’s a big fan of deadpan humour.

31. Do they drink? What are they like drunk? What are they like hungover? How do they act when other people are drunk or hungover? Kind or teasing?

She doesn’t drink often but likes to do it when she’s on shore leave or celebrating! Elena mostly favours sweet drinks or just a simple beer if she’s hanging out casually with some friends. She can hold her liquor (I assume after being rebuilt by Cerberus even more so) so it takes a while for her to get drunk, but when she does she just starts finding everything funny, laughs at the WORST jokes and even attempts to make them herself. She’s also most likely to end up dozing off and drooling on the shoulder of whoever is sitting next to her.

#oc: elena #THIS WAS SO FUN #thank you so much ♥

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thecandywrites · 4 years

Text

Of Heaven and Fire Part 2

Woo! Part 2! @probablyclever wanted to be tagged, so here you go- and if anyone else wants to be tagged- let me know.

The next day you managed to wake up before sunrise, creeping up over the horizon, you managed to leap out of the skylight and sit on the roof, your leg and the chain hanging down into the room, gently letting your leg swing as the sun rose, your feather cloak turning into a large fan like disc around you, the feathers turning black with a holographic sheen to attract and keep the sun’s rays. The first light was always some of the best light.

“There you are.” Came a voice as you turned to see Rhoslan walking up to the roof before she sat next to you. “Good morning.” She greeted you as she was wrapped in a heavy shall before she offered you one of her own which you gratefully took and wrapped it around you.

“Good morning.” You returned politely as you two sat next to each other and soaked up the sunrise for a few long moments in companionable silence.

“Am I really going to grow old here?” You asked softly after a while.

“That’s up to you. Don’t moura’s only age when they’re happy and in love?” She returned.

“To a degree, yes, but even hundreds of years age anyone.” You countered, keeping your voice a soft murmur.

“Well, then it’s a good thing orcs don’t live that long.” She pointed out as she pulled her shawl a little tighter around herself.

“How long do orcs live for?” You asked curiously.

“Most don’t live to see thirty.” She sighed. “It’s because orcs have such a violent life, with all the wars and raiding. It’s a hazardous life. But this clan is lucky, we have a port, it’s small and humble and we do a lot of fishing, less raiding and warring, well except for last night of course. Otherwise, the average life span in this clan is twice that.” She smiled fondly. “Drad is 40. An elder by orc standards.” She added as you stowed that piece of information away.

“It’s a decent life in this clan though. We get to buy whatever doesn’t sell at either Suchi or the other colonies, but the vendors make it sound like they are being charitable by even selling to us, they give us the leftovers so they can make it out of the river into the sea with all their gold. Most don’t even come through this port even though this port is on the best river that leads to the mountains, the others are barely creeks, even the shallow flat bottomed boats get moored, they’re trying to build a canal over there, to redirect the river outside of our territory so they can avoid us altogether.” She revealed as she pointed south as you followed her line of sight to see a construction crew just now coming to work.

“The problem is that if they succeed, half our clan will starve because the estuary has fish that only exist in estuaries and they make up a large portion of our diet. The next estuary is over there.” She pointed out as she pointed her arm in the opposite direction as you turned and followed it again.

“And that estuary is the territory of a much bigger, stronger, fiercer clan who would kill us in our sleep and take over our territory if they knew what real wealth would be coming through our river.” She added.

“So what am I supposed to do about any of that?” You asked.

“Nothing, just telling you so you know. Besides, the one with all the big plans, that would be Brock, I’m sure he has an idea or two about how you could help if you wanted to.” She answered.

“Why him?” You asked, your lip curling in disgust and the very thought of him.

“Because he’s the first born son of Drad, he’ll inherit the title and station of warchief from his father. It’s his job to do all he can for the clan, if he doesn’t have any good ideas on how to improve things or at the very least honor the old ways, the clan could over throw him, leave this one to join another.” she sighed as she nodded over to the larger clan’s territory.

“Like any other king.” You realized.

“Yup. So far Brock has done good, last night was the first time he’s ever seen defeat and he took it better than I thought he would.” She revealed.

“Considering a nobody with absolutely no military training with nothing but magical abilities was able to talk her friends into doing something that cost us everything, especially our most precious possession, our secrecy, I’ve put every moura into jeopardy.” You explained.

“Nah, I wouldn’t worry about it, everyone you told has very good reasons to keep it to themselves, mainly their own lives- because if that clan finds out- it wouldn’t take but a few hours for them to come over here and stomp us out, just the fact that you’re tethered to us is enough of a temptation for them to do so.” She reassured you.

“Then why attack Suchi?” You asked.

“Bruised egos and hurt feelings are powerful motivators and make you deaf to reason.” She huffed a laugh.

“That’s true, the adults tried to stop us and talk reason into us, but we wouldn’t listen either.” You revealed in turn.

“Wait, so all those hawks were all younglings?” She asked.

“Yeah, all of them were teens, the youngest I think was 15 and the oldest was not even 20. To turn all those meteorites and weapons to gold took all of our reserves. Usually those reserves are reserved our entire childhood until we are old enough to participate in our coming of age solstice flight. This summer was supposed to be our first. Even if I wasn’t captured, my friends and I wouldn’t have been able to participate. So it cost all of us our chances at finding a mate this year. Which means we would have to wait for next year and would have missed out on everyone else in our age group. Now all of us will just have to make due with someone younger than us, which will suck because most of us had our eyes on several others but very few of them would ever wait for us.” You answered as you pulled your knees up to your chest and rested your folded arms over your knees, continuing to watch the sun rise over the horizon.

“Well I for one am sorry for your loss, hopefully one day we’ll be able to make it up to you.” She genuinely offered.

“Thanks.” You thanked her graciously.

“Believe me, if it were up to me you’d be free now but Brock is...he’s incredibly stubborn, once he sets his mind and heart on something, he doesn’t stop until he finds success. So what I can tell you- is to be patient, your time will come.” She explained before she looked out over the sea and groaned.

“What?” You asked as you followed her line of sight and saw a fleet coming back into the port, half the ships half crusted with ice though.

“That damn dragon.” She growled.

“Dragon?” You frowned.

“There’s an ice dragon, just on the horizon, all the fish swarm around it’s cave because all the currents seem to converge on it. But every time they get too close, the dragon freezes the ships and then it’s a lot of work to chip all the ice off the ships and the fish gets frozen in the holds and it’s almost impossible to get them out. She grumped as an idea bloomed in your head.

“If I could get the dragon to not- ice your ships, do you think Brock would let me go?” You asked hopefully.

“I don’t know but I know the whole clan would be grateful to you if you did.” She figured.

“When will the boats go out again?” You asked.

“Not for another couple of days, it’ll take time to de-ice them now. Brock’s cousin Cugas is the captain of the fleet. You can’t miss him, he looks like Brock’s twin, but you’d actually like him- he’s a hard ass to his crew because he’s particular about how things are supposed to be, but when everyone listens, things go really smoothly. But otherwise he’s as easy going as a summer breeze when he’s off the ships.” She revealed.

“Well, most mouras are in alliance with dragons, I could try communicating with it. The fact that the dragon is simply icing the ships instead of drowning them- that shows benevolence and a patience in giving warnings, the ice ships being the warning. You’re probably encroaching not just on it’s territory but food supply too.” You reasoned.

“True,” Rhoslan nodded in agreement before you heard everyone else start to stir awake.

“Since there are a few kinds of ice dragons, do you think you could take me down to the docks to inspect the ice?” You asked.

“Yeah, after breakfast.” She nodded in agreement before she beckoned you off the roof, taking the stairs down this time as you gathered the chain and held it yourself and tuck it into a pocket.

You managed to get through breakfast without arguing with Brock, but you did give him several long suspicious looks and after breakfast, the family went with you to the docks to look at the ships.

Jade green ice crusted the ships. That was your first clue that you were dealing with a breed of oriental water dragon, who spewed that particular shade of green in their ice, because the color of the waters themselves were a gorgeous aquamarine that melted into a gorgeous sea blue before you pulled another feather from your cloak to make a chisel and chipped away at it. The ice was particularly thick and very hard and opaque, just like jade. A small hunk came off and you picked it up to inspect it more closely. You tasted the saltiness but you also tasted something more, you could smell the sulfur and taste the other minerals, the dragon was over a vent, not in a cave. There is only one reason why a water dragon would be over a vent- nesting.

You looked up and noticed Brock talking to someone who looked eerily just like him, like he could be a twin or something. Must be Cugas you supposed. You picked up your hunk of ice and found your feet and walked over to them as they were talking at the end of the docks.

“Excuse me.” You interrupted them.

“Yes ma’am?” He answered. Oh he was respectful, you liked that which made you smile. And while he matched Brock in appearance, something about his voice was wholly different, not bad but just different.

“Hi, I’m Benyana, pleasure to meet you Captain...” You greeted respectfully as he smiled in turn.

“Cugas,” he answered as he shook your outstretched hand.

“Pleasure to meet you Captain Cugas, now, can you tell me more about this phenomenon?” You asked him politely as you put the ice in your skirt to keep it from freezing your hands because this ice was somehow even colder than normal ice.

“Uh yeah, sure, this has been happening for a number of years now, we know there’s a dragon there and we try not to fish directly over it. But it’s like it’s not there all the time, usually right before the fish migrate here in the spring and stay all summer until the fall when the fish migrate south to warmer waters then it stops.” He answered.

“So about 4 months, 5 months?” You surmised.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“Do you ever see it? Right before it ices your boats?” You asked.

“No, well, a little, it stays about 50 feet under the surface of the water and spits ice and then dives down again.” He answered. “It’s huge though and very long.” He answered.

“Do you ever see hints of other colors? Gold? Red? Black? Or any patterns?” You asked.

“It’s actually more green than the ocean around it, but sometimes it has more pattern, sometimes not, I guess it depends on the clarity of the water.” He realized.

“Do you notice any whiskers?” You asked thoughtfully.

“Yeah, sometimes it does and sometimes it doesn’t, they look, orange, with purple ends.” He realized.

“Ok, well, as I’m sure my captor has informed you,” You explained with a pointed look at Brock who rolled his eyes. “I’m a moura, mouras are allies with dragons, and while I’m not an expert by any means, I have an idea of what you might be working with, when you unpack your ships from all this ice and try to fish again - if you would take me out with you, I think I may be able to get somewhere. Mouras have a way of communicating with dragons, I can try asking it not to ice your ships.”

“Forgive me ma’am but that thing would no sooner eat you than listen to you.” He tried to gently argue.

“It won’t. The fact that it’s just icing your ships, shows it’s being benevolent, trust me, with this kind of dragon that you’re dealing with, it could just as easily open it’s jaws and chomp each of your ships into pieces the way we would take a bite from an apple. It could also just grab your ships with its claws, which are definitely big enough to wrap around your ships and crush them like you’d crush an insect in your palm. It could even just leap out of the water and topple all your ships. It’s trying to deter you from fishing there right now. Do you smell the sulfur and other minerals in this ice?” You asked as you picked it up and gave it to him to sniff before he did and it was like he was seeing and smelling it for the first time before he handed it to Brock to inspect as he followed suit.

“Yeah,” they agreed.

“Water dragons suck in a big “breath” of water -if you will- right before they spit. Because this smells like sulfur and other minerals, that means it’s sucking in water where it is at the bottom before it comes to the surface and the water it’s sucking in…”

“Is from a vent.” Cugas finished for you.

“And the only reason a water dragon stays in one place for five months straight in a place that’s super heated…” You hinted.

“Oh! It’s because it’s nesting! How come I didn’t think of that?” Cugas grinned brightly.

“Exactly. You have on your hands oriental jade water dragons, that’s why the ice looks like green jade despite the blue of the ocean. And you have a mated pair. Females are drab but have whiskers, males have more vibrant patterns but smaller whiskers and the whiskers have their own lures at the end, that’s why you see bulbs. But they’re old, which means they’re wise, older dragons have a routine pattern and migration, if they keep coming back year after year to the same spot- it’s because they know that it’s a successful nesting site, it’s safe they won’t be disturbed, at least by other dragons, except by your nets which they find a nuisance, younger dragons would defend the spot with deadly force, older dragons have learned that sometimes a little goes a long way and if they actually harm the ships, more ships come and investigate. They’re doing just enough to try to deter you. I would suggest, raising your nets so that they run at a higher depth, the lower the depths of the nets, the more you’ll disturb them and try not to take too much of a mated pair’s food supply, especially when they’re guarding their nests because dragons rarely like to leave their nests to guard from egg theft or egg replacement.” You suggested as you gestured to the hunk of ice still in their hands.

“Consider it done, easy fix.” Cugas nodded.

“Awesome, just let me know when you’re ready to leave, I’ll be ready.” You promised him sweetly as Brock finally smiled- happy that you were helping before Kari pulled you away, wanting to go get a snack before you tossed the ice into the water.

Once you were out of earshot Cugas whistled lowly.

“Wow is she pretty! She sure hates you though.” Cugas appraised as he watched your retreating form.

“She’ll get over it.” Brock insisted which made Cugas snort a laugh.

“Your head is still in the clouds then. She looked like she was ready to set you on fire.” Cugas insisted.

“She’s a moura, fire is in her nature.” Brock argued.

“Heaven is in their nature too but I didn’t see any heaven when she looked at you. She did when she looked at me though.” Cugas jabbed playfully which made Brock give him an unimpressed look.

“Hey she smiled at me and shook my hand and was all kinds of nice and polite to me.” Cugas noted.

“She was just trying to be helpful.” Brock dismissed.

“Sure,” Cugas placated. “I’ll see you at dinner, I got work to do.” Cugas excused himself and grabbed a chisel and helped his crew try to de-ice the ships.

Cugas joined you for dinner and brought huge bushel baskets of seafood with him, the servants in the kitchen very well pleased as you sat in the living room, helping Kari learn her letters and numbers before he sat down across from you, a peculiar look on his face.

“What?” You asked as his grin grew fond.

“Before today, I had never seen a moura before, especially up this close, only heard about ‘em. They say you’re born of heaven and fire.” He praised which made you smile as Brock frowned from his spot nearby.

“That’s true, we are.” You confirmed with a nod.

“So what does the heaven and fire refer to?” He asked curiously.

“Actually, heaven refers to the fact that we originated in the clouds themselves, if you could fly straight up into them you’d see how there’s a whole world up there, grand castles and estates that look like clouds on the outside but on the inside are magnificent palaces and estates. And the fire- well that comes from our ability to breath fire because one of our forms can be a phoenix- who breathe fire just like dragons.” You explained and Brock’s jaw was on the floor, as his brow could not get any more furrowed. How in the world had Cugas just asked that nonchalantly and gotten that from you so easily? He had to use a magicked shackle to tell him the truth.

“So you share ancestry with true pheonixs then?” Cugas wondered.

“Yup, we do. Angels are our closest relatives in species and it’s almost impossible to tell us apart when we are in angel form, but angels get to inhabit the different realms but we only get to enjoy this one, humans however are our second but we have very high compatibilities with other races too because shapeshifter genes are versatile. As long as they have our body layout as in- head up here, arms, legs, hands, feet and toes, that kind of thing.” You revealed casually as you gestured to your extremities.

“So if you share ancestry with phoenix's does that mean you can be reborn in the ashes?” Cugas wondered and you just grinned and playfully narrowed your eyes at him. Orcs were much smarter than you gave them credit for.

“Yes, however it is an extremely painful process with a lot of variables and should only be used in extreme circumstances. It’s primarily just the elders who do it when they feel their current form is getting too old to function, although currently there is a competition to see how long someone can go in one form. The current record is held by Elder TriKeng, he made it 145 years before he finally called it quits and was reborn in the ashes about 37 years ago…” you said before you noticed Rhoslan bristle at the name as you frowned and turned your attention to her.

“So..” Cugas began before you lifted your hand to silence him before you watched Rhoslan quickly leave the room before you gently got Kari to sit next to your spot before you got up and excused yourself before you followed Rhoslan out of the room and followed her to her own bedroom where she was finding some solace.

“Rhos?” You asked as you knocked on her door softly and put your ear to the door.

“Rhos are you ok?” You asked worriedly.

“No.” you heard a sob before you opened the door and found her at her vanity wiping her eyes.

“I’m so sorry if I said something upsetting.” You began before you touched her shoulder and she pulled from your touch and growled which made you recoil and step back.

“Sorry.” She apologized. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t...you’re not the problem and it isn’t your fault. But you are wrong about something, exactly 34 years ago, before you were born, there were two moura orc halflings presented to Suchi,” she began and you gasped before you pulled lira light into your palm and laid it on the center of her back which made her gasp and sit straight up as moura marks lit up her skin.

“What did you do?” She demanded as she looked at herself in the mirror. Having never seen her skin look like this before, like she had glowing tattoos on her skin.

“I...I...I’m sorry, I...I did uh, I did a lira light touch, it’s a tradition we do when we want to see if a person has moura genes and how strong they are.” You answered as you watched as there were moura marks haloing around her body.

“You’re...you’re the daughter of nobility. I haven’t seen moura marks like these...since…” You said to her breathlessly, her marks were beautiful, utterly mesmerizing as they began to swirl and dance around her body. “Sorry, these are extraordinary! I’ve never seen anything close to these, usually only noble heavenly moura have marks like these. These are far better than my own. How many forms can you change into?” You asked.

“None! This is the only form I have.” She growled in frustration.

“Surely when you get angry, you must be able to spew fire or heal or…” You began to argue.

“No! None of that, I have none of that!” She argued, you could tell she was frustrated and angry and hurt.

“All I have are these.” She angrily spat as she yanked open a drawer and it was full of tear diamonds as you gasped again, this time in sadness.

“Do you know what these are?” You asked her as you reverently touched them, the pads of your fingers barely touching the surface of them, feeling the pain and anger from them as your heart broke.

“Crystal tears?” She guessed before you crouched down next to her.

“They’re called benar- it’s a sign of extreme duress for a moura to cry them. I cried them myself last night, my first time, and they hurt like hell. This is a sign you have had extreme heartache and hardship in your life. My mother has a collection like this.” You explained as you reached up and held her hand and squeezed it comfortingly.

“What happened that she would cry like this?” She asked before you grabbed a stool and sat down next to her.

“My mother is the product of an affair. Only the sire never came forward when- after she was born because she came out much different than my grandmother’s husband and the rest of her children. Now affairs are not uncommon, however among nobility, it’s more politically upsetting if a very prestigious figure is known to publically stray. Several problems arose from this. To heavenly moura- their lineage is everything. Because your lineage you can prove out your own genetic potential because those bastards have nothing better to do than have as many kids as possible to explore every conceivable variations of their genetics, on one hand you get some really amazing and beautiful results, you get magnificent moura marks- wing colors and shapes and aesthetics, but on the other hand- those inbred motherfuckers have bred out functionality and in some cases fertility and verilty in favor of aesthetics, to the point they’ve lost their own powers, their own abilities, they can’t change forms anymore, or if they do- they can only go human form or angel form- no phoenix, no bird, nothing. They’ve lost their fire abilities completely and their own strength and stamina is next to none- they get winded flying from cloud to cloud. LIke have you seen those dogs, bred until they’re nothing like the original and shouldn’t even be allowed to be called dogs?” You asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“Same thing, only they do it to themselves. And they stud themselves out. And to them- your genetics, they dictate your worth as an individual, no one would be caught dead without their own pedigrees on them at all times. And to them- who and what you are as a person, is one of the last things they care about.” You explained. “So you can imagine, with my mother only having one side of her lineage and therefore one set of genetics, the other half was considered a mystery. And that is a gamble no heavenly moura would normally wish to take. My mother is also of nobility- but the majority of that nobility came from her mother’s husband, not her biological father, whoever he was. Such is the way for daughters of affairs- sons however- sons are usually always claimed. Only the extraordinary daughters are claimed, my mother was, for a heavenly moura- drab, which to them is as close to a crime as you could commit even though she was perfectly innocent. Granted perfectly healthy and functional too, the first in many generations to be so, things the heavenly moura count as non-consequential. Many lower ranking women practically throw themselves at the higher ups, hoping to topple the current ladies by producing handsome heirs. It’s a gamble. A gamble my grandmother made and lost. And she lost everything, her husband’s tolerance for her because heavenly moura partners simply tolerate each other most of the time.” You explained as Rhos listened closely.

“And so my mother because- as you would call it, is the black sheep of the family- she left at barely 20, very young for a heavenly moura, took her own benar with her and went to the same palace her sister was enlisted to go to. But her sister couldn’t risk her newfound political place and power to shelter my mother, so she was turned away and cast out. She tried exchanging her benar for coins, but she was stopped by my father, because who she was about to sell them to, would be taking all of them and only giving her a tiny fraction of a thousandth of what they were really worth. And my father just helped her- without any thought of being paid back because it was the right thing to do and the kindest thing he could do. He helped her find a nice if not very safe place to live- he helped her become money savvy because heavenly moura don’t use money,, they have no need or use for it. And when she got up on her feet and came to terms with her own situation and got her bearings, then they started to court. And he had to really compete for her. But he was the first to help her and not try to take advantage of her in any way and have nothing but the best intentions with her. So now they live in Suchi, aging beautifully together and my mother is making a mural of the family in her benar on the walls. Because she is choosing to take years of pain and turn it into something beautiful and to use that to celebrate what she has now.” You explained, your smile proud if not bittersweet, feeling sad yourself that you would probably never get to see the finished product of your mother’s mural, not for another 30-50 years at least.

“Now I’m not saying that that’s what you should do with these, these are yours and yours alone to do with as you please. However I know of some that would fill every room in this house with treasures for a handful of these. All those traders that snub your people? Oh they would be giving you the best of the best of what they have if they knew you had these and this port would be five times as big because all moura- any moura- is a friend to any merchant. And they would eat their words about you for the sake of business, I can only imagine the apology gift they’d offer if they only knew.” You mused.

“Well that’s just it, I don’t want anyone to know, no one can know this, now turn this off!” She demanded.

“Ok,” you agreed before you put your hand over the center of her chest and pulled the lira light back into yourself, her moura marks fading to nothing.

“Rhos, do you know who your father is?” You asked softly as the sensation of the lira light coming back into yourself revealed many things to you.

“No, my sister and I were presented to Suchi- we were wrapped in our feather cloaks and everything. But that damn council- in particular- TriKeng…” she spat that particular name with the most hateful disgust. “Wanted to weigh it over night- in the middle of the night- someone came in and stole our feather cloaks from us and all we were left with was a sack of gold. That didn’t even last us down the mountains and a warning never to come back for any reason.” She sneered. “And in our culture- that’s seen as a huge disgrace.” She whimpered as she cried yet more benar before she added them to her collection.

“That is an unforgivable wrong dealt to you and your sister. And clearly this is the depth of your pain. To take a moura’s cloak- especially an infant’s cloak- when that child is already…” Your voice wavered as tears came to your eyes and bile rose into your throat. “So vulnerable and defenseless.” you whispered. “It’s despicable,” you clipped, your own anger growing before you took a calming breath and looked at her again, noting her rather beautiful high cheekbones- typical for a moura and the more you looked, the more moura traits you found, wondering how you had not seen them before.

“Make no mistake- whoever did that to you- will suffer, if not by your hands, then by mine.” You swore.

“It has nothing to do with you.” She argued.

“It has a lot to do with me! Because I am of daughter of Suchi, the very place that houses the bastard who did this to you and such a thing is normal in the royal houses, because so few are born with it- it’s a gift stolen from one and given to another- only the most important ones wear them. Do you have any idea how many in Suchi are there because of this very crime had been done to them and it is a law in Suchi- that no child born either to it our outside of it would ever have that done to it ever again and the fact that it was done to you- proves that the bastard is the biggest hypocrite.” You growled, righteous anger blazing in your eyes.

“You say that as if you know who it is.” She pointed out.

“I don’t know for absolutely certain, but I have an idea- one that I would wager all of these on.” You said as you reached into your own coin purse and showed your own benar as they laid between your fingers. “I’m here now, I know I’m 34 years late- forgive me, I wasn’t born until about 18 of those 34 years ago,” You gently teased which got her to crack a grin. “But I’m tethered to this family. And damn it even if this chain were to fall off right now, I would still fly back to Suchi- expose the son of a bitch who did this to you, take his own feather cloak off of him and then slice him and barbecue him in a sweet glaze.” You threatened as she barked a laugh through her own tears which got you to smile brightly in triumph. “And I’d come back and offer it to you on the biggest silver platter I could find. Unless there’s a better way you’ve been imagining justice this whole time.” You offered as she just shook her head.

“I only want the best for my children and this clan, say nothing of this for now- to anyone.” She pressed.

“Ok,” you nodded in agreement.

“Are you at all related to who you think did this?” She asked.

“No, but TriKeng- that village elder who dragged his feet who probably incited a thief or two to steal your cloak because actual evidence of a moura coupling with an orc and you’re proof of that coupling being not only fruitful but alarmingly successful- let alone 30 something years ago, Oh, that would thrown Suchi and every other colony into an uproar because the elders are hypocrites, they love to talk about how warm and inviting and loving and perfect the mountain colonies are, but in the same breath but out of the opposite sides of their faces- want it to be like that only to who and what they deem worthy- mainly elves, another species we blend rather seemlessly with, fae- who hold the keys to the other realms because fey and moura children can cross over from realm to realm no problem to the point angels are more interested in mountain moura than the heavenly ones, which pisses those heavenly moura right off and let’s be realistic- everyone loves power, those elder moura have just as much power and prestiege over their own colonies than the council does over all the royal moura, same game- different rules and different ways to play it.” You explained.

“And TriKeng is basically my adopted grandfather. He’s sweeter than honey and so doting on my mom who’s he adopted as his daughter and therefore my family- despite not being blood related- are his family because the man is one of those former heavenly moura who supposedly has lost his virility through his own inbreeding.” You explained as she gave you a pained expression.

“But this doesn’t surprise me, he’s extremely speciesist. He’s been trying to set me and my siblings up with some fae friends of his most of our lives and me being here is probably throwing a huge wrench into those plans. And honestly? Don’t tell anyone- especially Brock but I’m kind of relieved I’m here so I don’t have to dance with those fae boys this year because I know they would have tried to find a way to fly with me this year and just...I don’t like them back that way.” You explained.

“But this, this makes us family,” You gestured between the two of you. “In a much closer sense than the way I am with TriKeng- all who carry the moura in both name, lineage, gene or spirit are. I will stay and help where I can. First I’ll get this business with the clan’s fleet and the water dragons sorted out. Then, it will take some work- but there is a way to find out exactly who you’re the daughter of if you want to know. But if you don’t- then we’ll get straight to work on improving this clan’s station and reputation and lay a foundation for generations to come.” You vowed.

“Is this why this clan brought war to Suchi?” You wondered curiously.

“No, this- me... I had nothing to do with it, no one in my family knows this about me, my sister and I have never told anyone, not even Drad knows.” She maintained.

“Ok.” You agreed before there was a knock on the door as Rhoslan quickly shut her drawers and locked them before you put your own benar away before you escorted each other to the dinner table where both Brock and Cugas looked particularly worried but a dismissive smile from Rhoslan had them at least looking less worried, but perhaps more concerned.

“It’s about time, it’s getting cold,” Cugas playfully complained before he sat right next to you as you once again sat and had Kari eagerly climb into your lap again, her and Cugas eager to show you how to eat all of it as Brock sat across from you.

“Ok, I don’t like the oysters.” You scrunched up your nose before Cugas reached out and booped your nose which made you laugh.

“Your nose is too cute when you do that, I couldn’t help myself.” Cugas laughed with you and you had to turn and hide your face with your hair in attempt to hide your deep blush as Brock just stared in outraged disbelief.

“So what about the clams then? The smaller ones are the sweeter ones.” He offered as he held a tiny little clam out as you craned your head out and slurped it from the shell before you chewed.

“They are sweeter, they’re ok. Prawns are my favorite still.” You maintained as you worked on taking a large one out of its shell, it was almost as big as your hand,

“Try this then,” Cugas urged as he picked up one shell and scraped the meat off the shell before handing you that one.

“Ooh!” You oohed as you chewed it. “What’s that one?” You asked.

“Scallop.” Cugas answered.

“Ok, yeah, ok, new favorite.” You conceded before he eagerly got a few more from the stock pile that had been cooked in a spicy chili broth and put them onto your plate.

“Thank you.” You thanked him as Brock just cracked those thick crab legs with his hands, his imagination imagining it was his cousin’s limbs as his jealousy ate him alive.

“Here, try this, it’s the king of crabs,” Cugas insisted as he took a leg from the pile and cracked it for you, feeding the luscious meat hanging from a knuckle.

“Oh my gods, that’s...that’s ridiculously good,” you agreed.

“Don’t moura eat seafood?” Cugas asked.

“Royal moura do, but us mountain moura- no, it would spoil before it would ever reach us. The only time we all eat fish is when we fly over the oceans and dive for it ourselves, changing to penguins who can dive for sardines or anchovy or mackrel, any swarming fish really, then once we eat we take to the skies again. We only take the flight twice a year, and it’s the only stop we make.” You explained.

“So what’s so special about the flight?” He asked as your blush came back full force.

“It’s a moura tradition- on the summer solstice- we make one big flight around the world, following the sun and it’s sunshine and again on the winter solstice, only that one we follow the moon and fly in the northern lights, surely you’ve seen the giant flock of birds that seem to glow and dance in the northern lights on the solstice.” You urged as everyone blinked in surprise.

“Wait that’s all you guys?” Cugas asked in marveled wonder and awe.

“Yeah,” you confirmed.

“I can’t believe it, two of the biggest phenomenons that we use to gauge our year- and they’re moura traditions.” Cugas grinned which made you beam happily.

“Not just traditions, those are our courting rituals.” You revealed as Cugas’ and Brock’s jaw dropped before Cugas just started laughing in delight.

“What?! That’s your courting ritual?!” He asked, his smile so bright it would shame the sun and Brock was ready to pull his hair out of his head. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t real. He was having a nightmare. Five minutes with his cousin and you were already talking about courting rituals like you were confiding in a lover? Just...just shoot him in the face with a fucking canon.

“Well that’s how mouras with the moura gene court each other- nothing proves the greatness of your own health like a 24 hour flight twice a year. Coupling happens in the air- you ever noticed how most of the birds seem to do feats? Fly in corkscrews and loops? Make hairpin turns and fly in a myriad of formations?” You asked Cugas.

“Well now that you mention it, yes, yes I do, I was always so jealous, wishing I could be that free.” He confessed as you smiled fondly at him. Oh if he only knew.

“So what about those who don’t have the gene?” Brock finally interjected and your smile dropped when you looked at him before turning back to Cugas, your smile returning to him, choosing to answer that question as if it had come from him.

“They dance the whole time. There is always a colony that hosts the event. For a week before the solstice, everyone converges, everyone camps in the valley of the host colony because all the colonies are always built in the mountains surrounding either one big valley or several small valleys and all the vendors from all the colonies come and try to sell the fattiest foods, the fattier the better. Everything is fried and- or smothered in rich sauces and gravies, there’s a few vegetables, but it’s mostly all meat and noodles and rice, lots of breads and stuffed buns and dumplings and things and sweets are king, we go through tones of sugar and honey and nuts, the easier to eat the better, everyone has these bowls with attached spoons and forks that they can walk around and eat and talk and it’s crammed with people, so much so that you squeeze through everyone and little kids have to be literally tied to their parents otherwise they’ll get lost in the crowds and the closer to the countdown- the crazier it gets, everyone is hyper and excited and trying to meet everyone else and everyone is trying to figure out who’s flying, who’s dancing who’s courting who, who’s available, who’s of age, who’s still underage because mouras age funny and it’s hard to tell sometimes. Courting mouras usually seriously court only six months at a time. Between each solstice. And usually if a pair keeps courting two consecutive solstices at a time- then it’s a pretty good sign that they’ll stay together. Now once the sun rises on the solstice in the host colony- the single moura who are taking the flight- take off. And once they do- then the dancing starts and every street in the colony is taken up by the dancers and they do not stop until the others get back. And it’s very vigorous dancing the whole time with only short breaks to eat and relieve yourself and crash. So much so that by the end of it- all the shoes are broken, your feet are swollen and they hurt, everything hurts but you’re so high off of dancing and off of being around so many people because most mouras are naturally gregarious and naturally extroverted. But it’s the best music you’ve ever heard in your life and your body can’t help but dance to it and the party takes up at the very least the very center of town, every street is lined with dancers and in the other sections of the city is where the other age groups converge, there’s even a section dedicated to the elders, although they only make it through a dance or two- usually the first dance and the last dance.” You smiled brightly.

“Gosh I can’t imagine having that much fun. I would wear myself out in just the first dance.” Cugas sighed dreamily as he rested his chin in his hand as Brock wondered if he reached across the table and smacked Cugas’ elbow if he would do a face plant into the table and crack a tusk.

“So who’s the host colony this year?” Cugas asked curiously.

“I don’t know, usually it’s on a rotation, but I can tell you it won’t be Suchi- since the attack I’m sure no one will think it’s safe enough to host such an event.” You answered with a long side eye at Brock who just exhaled out of his nose in defeat, shaking his head ever so slightly but kept right on eating as Cugas took a long sip of his ale and gave his aunt a meaningful look as she returned it.

“Well that’s a shame, I almost had hopes I could come and crash it this summer.” Cugas allowed.

“If you did, you’d have more dance partners than you know what to do with of every gender you could handle.” You promised.

“What? I thought orcs were a no go for mouras.” Cugas asked as you gave him a meaningful look and a mischievous smile.

“No, the elders are speciesist- us youngins and really anyone else? Oh no we’d eat you alive.” You cackled. “I mean come on- a culture built around strength, stamina, endurance and physical fitness? Aren’t orcs the epitome of all of that? I mean look at these arms.” You urged as you reached out and grabbed his arm muscles and jiggled them which made him giggle which you thought was adorable. “Like I could think of a dozen mouras right now who would love to climb you like a tree if you know what I mean.” You teased as Brock choked on his ale before you turned and considered him before he recovered.

“Aw, you recovered. Damn.” You snapped your fingers in disappointment which caused Cugas to choke on his own ale too before he practically spit it out at Brock before going into a deep belly laugh.

“Gods, you just hate him! I love it! You’re the first girl to ever hate his guts this badly. Every girl here goes gaga over him every time he sets foot out of the house and you’re the first not to, I like you! I like you a lot.” Cugas insisted.

“I like you a lot too!” You beamed happily right back at him before he just wrapped his arm around you and squeezed you tight and kissed the crown of your head as you laughed.

“Hey! Hands off!” Brock barked.

“He has my permission to be affectionate to me, just like Kari, your other sisters and your mother do.” You argued as Brock looked like he was about to either kill something or have an aneurysm and stroke out right there at the table.

“Fine,” Brock growled before he got up and walked out.

“What’s his deal?” You asked Cugas.

“You don’t want to know.” Cugas dismissed as you felt a pull on the chain and the shackle on your ankle and you felt something inside you pulled in that direction too as you groaned.

“And he says I’m dramatic.” You complained as you got up, the chain itself leading you out of the room and towards where Brock was storming away.

“Hey asshole! What’s your deal?” You called after him as the two of you got some distance as he came to the ocean and threw the biggest rock he could grab into the ocean as far as he could throw it.

“Go back into the house.” He ordered.

“I would love to but this shackle would break my ankle if I tried.” You countered as you folded your arms over your chest as the chain finally dropped to the ground at his feet.

“So I’m here, talk to me and tell me why you’re ready to rip your cousin limb from limb because he had the audacity to talk to me like a friend.” You urged.

“His behavior was inappropriate.” He finally hissed.

“Was it now.” You raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him.

“Yes it was!” He insisted.

“Right and if you weren’t already green you’d be greener than an avacado.” You insisted as you walked past him and sat down in the sand and let the waves come up and wash over your suddenly bare feet.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked as you looked at him over your shoulder before you pat the sand next to you so he would sit down.

“It means you’re jealous of the instant friendliness I have with him that I won’t have with you because you’re my captor and the one I’m tethered to whether I want to be or not like a soldier of war.” You insisted as he sat down next to you, pulling up his pant legs so they wouldn’t get wet as he pouted like a little kid being asked to share his favorite toy.

“It’s something easy enough to fix though.” You added as he just sighed tiredly next to you.

“I’m not letting you free yet.” He insisted.

“Well, it would be easier to take this if I knew that there was hope that there’s at least a chance of me earning my freedom, sooner than later would be ideal.” You insisted as he was quiet for a long moment.

“Do you really think you can do it?” He asked quietly after a while.

“What the business with the dragon?” You assumed. “Yeah, it’s just a matter of getting to it.”

“How are you going to talk to it?” He asked.

“It’s something you’re going to have to see to believe.” You grinned.

“So, I get the dragon to stop icing your ships- I’m free- deal?” You bargained as you held out your hand for him to shake.

“Fine. Deal.” He begrudgingly agreed as he shook your hand.

#Of Heaven and Fire #Of Heaven and Fire Part 2 #orc #orc boyfriend #monster boyfriend #exo #female reader #orc romance #orc love story

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madamlaydebug · 4 years

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Urgent info before it gets removed sent via Sean Ferris today

This is very important, so please take a moment to read so you know what has been happening behind the scenes!!!!! Evidently monies to fund the child trafficking tunnels came from US Taxpayers through the Cabal-owned IRS/Federal Reserve System. An inside source said, “They spent trillions of dollars on these tunnels… that’s where the trillions of dollars that have been missing from the 9-11 building that they took down.” READ BELOW!!!!

Since April 2019 in secret military operations, thousands of tortured, mutilated babies, children and teens have been rescued or found deceased by the US Military. US Special Operations teams directed by President Trump and his Pentagon Pedophile Task Force have been clearing out the children, corpses, gold, cash and documents from a massive labyrinthine of DUMBS tunnels (Deep Underground Military Bases) that ran beneath the US, Canada and Mexico.

Evidently over centuries the tunnels had been built and used by members of the Illuminati, better known as the Cabal, or Deep State. Global, political and Hollywood elites into Satan worship were known to pay big bucks to drink the blood of a traumatized child (known as Adrenachrome) – reported to create a “high,” along with a supposed reverse of aging. Although, if their “supply” was cut off, the partaker suffered greatly and could even die.

The Pentagon was making sure that supply was never harvested as evidently it had been for centuries. Back in April 2019 the US Military, Interpol and different countries’ local military forces began a concentrated and coordinated effort to rescue children from a huge tunnel network that ran throughout the US from California to New York, to Canada, Mexico, Europe, Italy (the Vatican and Venice), the Hague, New Zealand, South America and the Middle East (Lebanon). Some of the tunnels lay beneath the Vatican, with many reported to be several stories deep – like the one beneath the Denver Airport.

By April 2020 a total of over 50,000 malnourished, caged and tortured children had been reported as rescued or found deceased in the tunnels beneath large US cities including one under New York Central Park. Another tunnel was said to run from the Clinton Foundation building to the New York Harbor.

The latest horror was uncovered around August 20, 2020 beneath Reno Nevada where thousands of mangled recently deceased corpses of children were discovered. The child captives were believed to have been kidnapped or bred for purposes of sexual abuse, human experimentation and human sacrifice in Satanic rites.

On Wed. Oct. 16 2019 an unbelievable 2,100 children being held in cages in underground tunnels at the California China Lake Military facility were rescued by Navy Seals and US Marines. The children and teens were said to have been sexually abused, tortured and killed to collect their blood. Marines carried out traumatized children, some of whom have never seen the light of day, pregnant preteens, deformed babies, piles of little corpses whose bodies were apparently used for organ harvesting, children locked in cages, electro-shocked and traumatized in order to harvest their blood – Adrenachrome for the elites to drink.

“In Nevada the child rescue operations moved in earnest… what was amazing is that everyone was thinking Las Vegas would be the horror show of horror shows… there was a horror show but it was Reno… underneath Reno they could not believe the tunnels underneath the ground... the DUMBs… the bulk of the children found in the tunnels under Reno were dead… not only dead folks, they were mangled… they’re trying to do DNA testing to get the pieces back in order… which piece belongs to which other torso… it’s horrific” commented Dr. Charles Ward, who has been in a couple of the tunnels.

A trooper involved in rescue operations said, “On 4 July 2019 at 2 am PDT we surprised personnel at the China Lake Naval Research Base in California. We took over the base and rescued approximately 3,000 children being tortured in ways beyond comprehension. . .The count now of traumatized children (found dead or alive) was more like in the hundreds of thousands – generations who had never seen sunlight.”

Another trooper in rescue efforts reported, “Underground bases trafficking children were destroyed back in 2019. That included a base that was under the Getty Museum. The more recent Utah March 18 2020 earthquake was actually destruction of child trafficking tunnels (under the old Dugway Utah Germ Warfare base also referred to as another Area 51 UFO Base). There was a major battle under the Denver airport. The Illuminati had planned to make Denver the capital of the US after they took over and killed most of us.”

There was a tunnel system that circled Australia and centered in Melbourne. The military made a massive raid in tunnels beneath the Black Forest in Germany. In Barcelona Spain they rescued over 2,000 women and children, while arresting 13 of their pedophile leaders. There were 30,000 pedophiles arrested out of Germany, and “lots” were arrested in Spain and England.

Charlie Freak - about Australia said that the troops went into Melbourne and found a second layer of tunnels beneath an enormous tunnel system in Australia. “It started in Sydney… they described it to us… think arachnid… it’s a web… and it was below… so this second tunnel system goes in a ring around Australia, with a big central line running towards Ayers Rock…One night - 9 p.m. to 6 or 7 a.m. - there were explosions every 2 or 3 seconds that entire time. That’s why there were police out there.”

US Military, Marines, Navy Seals and Special Ops trained for over a year for the special missions under direction of President Trump and the Pentagon Pedophile Task Force. These US Special Forces were working with Interpol and various countries’ militaries to clear out the underground tunnels filled with trafficked children and women. They then blew the tunnels up so they can never be used again for any purpose. The small nuclear explosives used caused small earthquakes in the region.

Evidently monies to fund the tunnels came from US Taxpayers through the Cabal-owned IRS/Federal Reserve System. An inside source said, “They spent trillions of dollars on these tunnels… that’s where the trillions of dollars that have been missing from the 9-11 building that they took down.”

The operation was ongoing as they discovered even more tunnels deeply buried beneath the earth. Dr. Charles Ward said: “The rescue operations were taking longer than The Alliance thought because the massive labyrinthine illuminati tunnel systems were more vast than anyone had any idea of.

“They collapsed tunnels in Lebanon,” Ward said. “There was a considerable amount of tunnels under a building there that exploded. I’ve learned an awful lot about these tunnels and I have actually been inside some of these tunnels in my work because they store a huge amount of gold and cash in these tunnels. The ones I’ve been in were 200 Meters below ground level. .. the width of the tunnels would be 30/40 feet, the height would be 15/20 feet, there was electric golf buggies riding around down there like it was a main road; 40 km, 30 km of roads down there, shops down there, living quarters down there, storage facilities, safes, everything down there, and this was in just the two that I’ve visited. . . I think the process has been, from what I understand, once they’ve removed the women and children that were stored down there, they were removing the tunnels so nothing can be ever done there again.”

Ward has personally has been inside two DUMBs that were crammed with cash, gold and valuables. He was part of a team that was moving gold, cash and valuables around the world for the United States Government to back a revaluation of currencies in a Global Currency reset about to take place.

Dr. Ward related that in March 2020 during the child rescue mission at the Vatican they arrested the Pope. Some of Ward’s Security Team watched the arrest. He said that 650 plane loads of gold, cash and documents were flown out of the Vatican to Fort Knox. He regularly used specially trained teams to move money and his teams had been hired to clear out the Vatican of its stolen treasure.

“I don’t think normal people have any idea or any concept as to how many children disappear every single year…And I'm going to sicken you right now. People that we trusted, organizations that we trusted during times of tragedy were involved, such as Hurricane Katrina where lots of people went missing. They were basically stolen by organizations that we trust to look after us in a time of trouble. Those kids were trafficked.

“That’s pretty damn disgusting… In times of war… the wars in Afghanistan, Syria, Libya, the amount of children that were stolen from those countries is unbelievable. So that the families think that they’ve died and they haven’t. They’ve been stolen… and this is a world that, don’t take my word for it, go and do some homework, because it’s absolutely disgusting

“And you’ll start to wake-up to what Donald Trump is actually doing when he’s draining the swamp…I don’t think… a lot of people have any idea how dirty that swamp is…how contaminated it is…and when you wake up to what he’s actually doing…It doesn’t matter if he has funny hair, it doesn’t matter if he does funny tweets. If he gets rid of one pedophile gang, saves one woman and a child from being trafficked, he’s doing a good job. He’s saved thousands and thousands of children and families, yet there’s NOTHING, NOTHING in the mainstream media. They should be ashamed of themselves, totally ashamed. It’s disgusting.”

*Copied

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mercysong-tardis · 5 years

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Philindaisy AU plot ideas!

Here are some Philindaisy Alternate Universe plot ideas I’m giving up for adoption. If any of you want to write them, please just credit me for the idea. These are free to do with them as you wish. No strings attached. Here you go:

Zombie Apocalypse AU: Zombie Apocalypses are supposed to be something only in Hollywood, until Fitzsimmons’ lab is attacked and Hydra releases an Alien Virus collected from the Kree. People on base go insane, First muttering about their “calling” before going on a rampage for uninfected human flesh. Coulson and May are on a time crunch to help Fitzsimmons create a cure, while Daisy discovers that all inhumans are immune. Desperate to Get Daisy back safely, Coulson and May head out to bring her back, fighting through those who were former colleagues. When the virus takes hold of Phil, suddenly everything gets worse as Melinda has to wrangle him back to safety, along with an unconscious Daisy…

Pirate AU: While on a raid, Pirate Captain Melinda May stumbles across Tavern Cook Phil Coulson. She spares him, (mostly because he was shirtless and easy on the eyes), and forces him along to work in the galley of her ship. Very quickly, Melinda falls for him. They spar at one point, Phil proves himself with both sword and firearm, and Melinda raises his status in rank. Eventually, he saves her life and she makes him first mate, much to the horror and jealousy of former first mate Grant Ward. Melinda makes Grant Ward walk the plank eventually when he betrays her and tries to kill Melinda in her sleep. Luckily, Phil had been there, doing a fine job at keeping May far from sleep (wink, wink). Little does she know that he is soon picked up by a trading ship. While Melinda makes herself Pirate Queen of the High Seas, she becomes closer and closer to Phil Coulson. During a raid on a small port, Melinda pucks up a child, a seven-year-old orphan girl named Daisy, and brings her aboard with the excuse that she could wash dishes, when really Melinda begins training her in combat. Phil helps as well, and other crew members challenge Melinda, saying she is getting soft. Phil discourages the potential mutiny, and teaches Crew member!Lance Hunter, a thing or two about respecting the ladies. Eventually Grant Ward returns with a fleet of ships he has conquered, hellbent on getting his revenge and seizing Melinda’s hefty cargo of Pirate Treasure…

Medieval AU: New King Phillip of House Coulson is set to pick a bride. His mother, Queen dowager Julie, has set before him the best choices for alliances, the lovely Lady Audrey, and Duchess Rosalind. But one night at the ball, Phillip is enchanted with the quiet woman who dances with incredible grace and style. She’s exotic in beauty and Phil is smitten when, alone with her on a balcony, the woman stops an attempted assassination. Phillip had found his bride, Lady Melinda of house May. But his mother may not be so happy, insisting that Phil choose from her selection. When the wedding day comes, Phillip lies to Lady Audrey, and sets Melinda in a duplicate dress, her face covered by a thick veil. By the time their vows are said, and the veil removed, Julie has nothing to say except to welcome Melinda into the family with the most forced smile Phillip has ever seen. Phil finally gets to kiss his bride. It takes only several moons before Julie is told an Heir is on it’s way. A proud future grandmother, Queen Dowager Julie orders a magical reading of the unborn child. The magician has nothing to say, only leaves screaming like a madman. Afraid for what that means, Melinda is hidden from the public until the royal couple’s long awaited son -erm- daughter is born, a healthy baby girl whom they name Daisy. But soon it becomes apparent that the child is much more powerful then she seems, and Julie is blaming Melinda for bewitching the child....

Shapeshifter AU: Melinda May-Coulson never shape-shifts. It’s simply easier to hide her gift then to flaunt it and be despised. Most people can shift into a small animal. Dogs, cats, bears, owls, and snakes are common. Horses and Lions are considered lucky. Some are even more amazing, holding within themselves more mythical forms. Every now and then, Griffins and Pegasi are made celebrities. But Melinda? Melinda is the only dragon she has ever heard of. So she is ashamed, hides her form until it becomes unbearable and she shifts alone in her home, filling the entire living room with shining dark blue and glittering silver scales, always leaving behind a scent of burnt tea and Lavender when she stretches her tight coil. Phil is a more common form, simply a golden retriever that Melinda finds adorable. Sometimes he shifts to make her happy, running around her legs in circles, looking up at her with those big, round, soft blue eyes. He doesn’t ask for her to shift, has never seen her completely. He doesn’t judge her secrecy, understands it even, saying he knew someone who was a rat. (Melinda insists she is much more regal than a rat, of all things) Life goes on until Phil’s friend, Maria, gives them a call about a girl that desperately needs a home. So the Coulson’s take her in, a little girl right out of the Hunan province in China, a new American name, Daisy, foreign to her ears, speaking rapidly in broken Mandarin that only Melinda understands. One day, Daisy comes home early with Phil, and they walk outside into the backyard to find Melinda in her dragon form, and to Phil’s shock, Daisy screams with surprise and with a spark of light, becomes a dragon herself, finding her way to Melinda. Blue and silver scales shine with White and gold while a golden retriever yaps happily between them.

Hunger Games AU: Hunger Games Victor Melinda May is living her quiet life with her husband Phil Coulson and single daughter, Daisy, in the Victor’s Village of district seven. But as the year’s days come closer and closer to the reaping, Melinda suffers her annual PTSD from the horrors of her time in the arena, twelve years ago. Waking up in cold sweats or to the sound of her own scream is nothing new to Melinda, her dreams haunted with the faces of the other tributes she’d watched die. As her daughter nears fifteen, Melinda fears more and more until the inevitable happens; and Daisy is drawn as this year’s female tribute of District seven, alongside of Lincoln Campbell. Mournfully, Melinda is forced to accompany her own daughter on the train to The Capital, and give her five days of training and support before Daisy is thrust into the nightmare of the Hunger Games. Under strict orders from President Snow, Melinda has to force herself not to be biased while helping out both Daisy and Lincoln. While Phil watches at home, Melinda breaks while her daughter marches into a certain death sentence…

Star Wars AU: Phil is the perfect Jedi. Bound to the code, completing all his missions successfully and with ease. Melinda? Melinda is a more radical Jedi. She breaks the code left and right, follows the force instead of the rules. She is unable to stay in one place for long, always moving with her fifth year Palawan, Daisy Johnson. While on a mission, the two are paired up, living undercover as royals to another planet, Daisy poses as their princess daughter, meaning to try to swoon the prince, Robbie Reyes in order to get information while Jedi Masters May and Coulson search the palaces and crime families. But old fires are reignited, and Phil has to bury the feelings for Melinda while they advise Daisy to do the same, with the predicament at hand; Phil is hopelessly in love with Melinda, and Daisy might be in love with her perfect prince fit for a Jedi knight…

Matrix AU: Living on the Zephyr, proud sister ship to the Nebuchadnezzar, Captain Melinda May trains her new recruits, a handful of young adults fresh out of the Matrix. Her co-captain, Phil Coulson helps her as they navigate their confusing, underground world. But with a ship full of uncontrollable youngsters, the kids take it upon themselves to get the two captains together.

Demon AU: When Audrey is killed in a car accident, Phil, under the guilt that it was his fault, takes it upon himself to revive his girlfriend. One night alone at a bar, he finds what he’s looking for. A woman who shimmers with an unearthly aura of sinful villainy. So Phil makes a deal, and Audrey is brought back, but Phil must stay with his new mistress: a demon under the name Melinda, better known as the Cavalry. He becomes her sex toy, like a human pet she keeps. Phil soon discovers that the longer he stays with Melinda, the more hellish he becomes. Soon he has to make a choice; stay human, or accept his fate and find that there is more to Melinda then what meets his reddening eyes. By the time Phil is no longer visible to the human eye unless he wills it, Phil has said goodbye to Audrey, and returned to Melinda’s side, ready to watch her belly grow. Somehow, someway, what was left of his human flesh has sparked a life inside his mistress, and Melinda is unsure what this means. As Phil falls for Melinda, the weight of his deal with her lessens, and therefor he pledges himself to her, for the rest of eternity. When the child is born, Melinda misses her free days, and gives Phil their daughter, breaking off their deal. But Phil no longer wants Audrey. He wants to have Melinda back. So he sets off to reclaim her, all the while working through the surprises raising a half-demon child holds.

Writer/Editor AU: Phil is an esteemed author, having written the hits of the teen and young adult section. Melinda is an editor, desperate to get a job, and quick. She finds Phil in need of an Editor, and she snatches up the opportunity. As they spend more time together working though, Melinda starts to fall for him. Daisy is Melinda’s adopted daughter. After school, she has found herself taking the bus to Phil’s house instead of her own. Her Mom is acting weird, more cheerful than usual and always talking about how wonderful her client’s book is going to be. Daisy just wants her mom back to herself again, without distracting men taking up her time. But on the flip side, Phil Coulson is a bright man who respects her, and always gives full attention to a conversation (Something Daisy craves). He’s kind and generous, even helps out when May sues her neighbor, Grant Ward, for sexual harassment. Daisy can’t help but not like Phil. As Melinda edits Phil’s work, she finds herself more and more invested in him. Daisy is happier now, and Melinda has found someone she is truly comfortable talking to. When the book is finally finished, and Phil leaves for the press tour, Melinda misses him. Phil reveals that the main characters of his books are based off people he loves, and Melinda gets his memo immediately. There must be someone else. Phil returns to May excited from the public’s reaction to his book, but disappointed when Melinda no longer sticks around. Eventually he puts the pieces together, explaining that the heroine of his book is based off Melinda herself.

#fanfiction #fanfic #melinda may #Phil coulson #daisy johnson #Philindaisy #Agent May #Agent coulson #Quake #agents of shield #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.#Philinda #Philinda fanfic #Philinda au #Philindaisy au #plot ideas #Prompts

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