The leaks aren’t “accidents”. Controlled. Both pictures are real. The first one (where the MC stood in front of something) is very old. The second one is a picture from the Demo we’ll see at E3.
New scouting mechanic, the eagle. The eagle’s placeholder name for now is “Akhom”.
There are NO towers in the game. You will be using your eagle for side-activities and points of interest. There’s a limit to how far you can go away from the protagonist.
The characters all speak English like in Unity. That is because of the Animus 5.0, which has perfected any translation issues of the older versions. You will be sitting in it, not moving around like in the movie.
We have a new Modern Day protagonist, he’s male and mixed race. Already a trained Assassin and has a new team that helps him achieve his task, given by William himself. William, Rebecca, Shaun all make appearances.
MD is more like AC3’s MD with bigger areas and more character interaction. The MD does more to highlight the fact that Assassins and Templars still exist and are having a big impact on the world.
“Without giving too much away, a piece of Eden is used during the Exodus and the crossing of the Red Sea, playing into the whole overarching mission of the modern-day protagonist.” Not main focus of the story though.
He doesn’t exactly know when it’s set, but last he heard it was set between 1400 and 1200 BCE. It’s set during the Dynasties.
NO naval combat. It really is only just a sailing boat used for travel purposes. It’s like in The Witcher 3, just a tad more customizable. That’s it.
He states numerous times that the world is breathtakingly beautiful and that there is ambient stuff going on in the open seas. Better to sail than miss this stuff by fast-travelling.
You will be travelling the Eastern Mediterranean with your boat.
Ambient music is in the game. Hooray!
Devs have focused on story 100%. There is no multiplayer whatsoever, however, there are micro-transactions like in BF and Rogue. Multiplayer is still on the cards, might return at some point to the franchise.
A lot of work went into the immersion aspect.
Plenty of tropical areas. Mirages, oasis areas and various islands dotted around the sea are beautiful.
The main protag (in the past) is a quieter version of Altair, basically. Looks like him, slightly darker. Not black like Adé. Trilogy with him planned. Greece comes next and he’s in there. No idea about the third entry at all.
Main protag (past) is apparently Israelite.
Combat has been reworked. Enemies have different attack patterns and will actively try to flank you. Kinda like Witcher 3, but easier to get into.
Stealth is much more integrated into the world. You can hide on corners, in crowds, in buildings and in bushes/haystacks. Imagine Syndicate and Unity’s stealth, but much more well thought out and implemented. Social stealth is emphasized a lot in the game. You’ll be blending into crowds and with groups of slaves an awful lot.
Free running is the same as Syndicate/Unity, though it adds in some of the flair from Watch Dogs 2. It’s a lot smoother and more fluid.
Reason why AC doesn’t make its way to Japan is because the higher ups don’t see it being successful. They made China for Chronicles to “please the fans”. Whoop-de-doo.
Same thing for WW1 and WW2.
Engine is a reworked version of Syndicate’s. But looks drastically different to Syndicate/Unity.
They took Unity’s backlash very, very badly. They’ve been working on Origins so much to avoid another buggy situation. “Syndicate was about 60% complete when the backlash came to light, so Ubi shoved that one out of the door before we had the break.”
No Switch version, releases on PS4, Xbawks One and PC.
Coming out later this year.
Hidden Blade used in the game is a very early version. Requires losing a finger. There’s also a bow, a shield, various swords, spears and throwing knives.
Our protagonist (paaast) doesn’t have a name at the beginning. Later, other characters start calling him “Shed”, after the deity that represents salvation. A big part of the story revolves around saving your people from slavery.
The idea of an Ancient Rome game was floating around the office. Ceasar wasn’t a Templar, but shared a lot of their ideologies. Senators that killed him were part of the Brotherhood. Status of this idea is unknown.
Skills are done in a talent tree. However, the differences between the skill trees are drastically different and you can only ever have a certain amount of skills active at one point. One tree is Combat, another Stealth and the final one is Movement.
Outfit-wise, there’s a few pre-determined outfits (as there has been in every AC game). However, there are different piece of equipment that you can buy that will go over the top of your ‘base’ appearance. Imagine Unity’s equipment variation/customization, but with less pointless fluff.
Character customization is more like Unity than Syndicate.
I forgot to add this, sorry people: You can put your hood on and off whenever you want!
I don’t want the character to be quite…I love it when characters talk while your walking and doing stuff. Just like in Uncharted games… What do you guys think?
Her legs ache, her lungs burn; Rey relishes the wordless challenge Ahch-to lays down before her every time she returns more than her reason for being here. Idly, she wonders if this is her lot in life, chasing after rogue Skywalkers and dragging them back into society.
Well. Not society, not in this case. But there’s use for a man like Ben Organa out in the galaxy, and Rey is climbing a damn mountain to remind him of that fact.
She can feel the jagged edges of him through the Force as she nears the top of the island. Not a wound, not anymore, but something barely healed over. It pulls her in, as much as she’d like to think she came up with this all by herself.
Thanks. His voice rustles drily across the open stretch of grass and rock between them as she crests the ancient steps, echoes in her mind. She rolls her eyes, not bothering to respond mentally or otherwise, tucking her hands into the pockets of her pants.
The dark smear of him sits cross-legged on a precipice - about as far from the outcrop where she’d first handed Luke his father’s lightsaber as a person could be and not fall into the ocean. He doesn’t turn as she approaches, doesn’t even open his eyes. But she can see his hands from a distance, pale and ungloved and resting on his knees. She the way long fingers curl in on themselves the closer she gets.
His presence in the Force vibrates, an energy barely leashed by his willpower. She hasn’t even touched him yet.
“I’d say I can come back later, if you’re busy,” she says, squinting out at the horizon. Other islands dot the endless ocean, all of them empty. Even with navigation to this planet better known about these days, no one seems to want to come here. “But I’m not going to.”
He stills, an impressive feat for someone who already wasn’t moving much. Even his breathing stops, like he’s waiting for her to correct herself before he tries to speak.
Rey says nothing.
“What,” he manages finally, “are you talking about?”
She shrugs. “At first I thought, all right, this makes sense. Your mind was in a delicate place, and so was your handle on the Force. No one knew if you were going to snap and fall right back to the Dark Side again if given half the chance, so giving you a planet’s worth of space seemed like a good idea.”
“I was not in a delicate place.”
Hollow words, and they both know it. Rey had flayed him open and carved out what she found there, laying it out for the light to get to. Putting him back together had been a…task, and one she still isn’t sure had been completed.
What she is sure about is that Ahch-to is not the place for finishing anything. Ahch-to is a held breath, a place where the entire universe is put on pause. Rey refuses to live like that.
She’s not convinced it’s living at all.
“I didn’t come here to argue semantics,” she snaps. Stars, but he has that way of getting under her skin, even after all this time. She’d never had much of a temper, not until she’d encountered Kylo Ren. He might have retired the name, but that didn’t mean the person had just disappeared into the ether. Ben Organa is a promise still unfulfilled, to her mind.
He unfolds himself in a single motion, towering over her. The scar is stark against the pallor of his face, and her fingers itch to trace the furrow she’s left in his flesh, like they do every time they meet again. Her chin juts out, feet working into the dirt. There’s nothing he can do or say to threaten her these days, and no one has ever out-stubborned Rey.
For a second it seems like he’s going to try anyway, but she clocks the sag to his shoulders before he sighs, dark eyes focussing somewhere over her left shoulder. The Force sings with the strength of him, but he keeps it reined in tight, careful not to brush up against her.
“Then why did you come here?”
“To give you a chance.”
“Half the galaxy would argue you’ve already given me too many of those.”
“More like three quarters.” She grins despite herself, bites it back. He closes his eyes in one slow motion, and it’s unclear if that’s supposed to be a long-suffering gesture, or - or a defence against her smile.
(She’s not an idiot. She knows what lies between them, vast and unspoken and shuddering with possibility).
“I’m glad you’re entertained,” he mutters. “You haven’t answered the question.”
“All right. Try this. Neither of us clawed our way back to the Light to spend a life in quiet contemplation, and if I owe a debt to the galaxy, you’re practically bankrupt.”
His eyes snap open, and there’s that old fire. Corralled now but no less full of heat for it, and Rey can’t deny that her heartrate picks up at seeing it. Not bothering with subtlety, she places her hand on her lightsaber hilt a warning.
He doesn’t notice. His powers of observation, she’s noticed, tend to fail when his emotions get going.
“If you think I’m going to crawl back to the tatters of the Republic to bow and scrape and beg for forgiveness–”
“I don’t,” she bites off. “Although we both know you’d deserve that. You’re a war criminal, Ben, and the fact that I’m here at all–”
Makes her complicit. But Rey has long since come to terms with that. There are things she’s willing to live with, and things she can’t survive, and this man straddles the divide in ways that are…difficult to deal with. That keep her up at night, well into the morning, exhausting herself with the same argument time and again while knowing the answer won’t change.
She has given him too many chances. She won’t take any of them back. They are tied together, Ben and Rey and Kylo, and she has to find a way to live with that.
She sucks in a breath, calming herself. Ahch-to helps, in its own quiet way, the crash of water on rock soothing the irritation simmering in her chest.
“Stay here if you want to,” she says. “Hide away from the galaxy and the hurt you’ve caused, if that’s what it takes to keep it safe from you, and you safe from it. But I won’t be returning here as long as this is where you remain. I have work to do. You’re welcome to join me.”
Incredulity is a good look on him, or maybe Rey just enjoys taking him by surprise. His expression twists, made worse by the scar, and she gives in to the urge to touch it. The calloused pads of her fingers dip gently over the scored flesh, and there he is, holding his breath again.
“Is this you trying to convince me?” he growls.
If it was, it’d be working. But she keeps that to herself (maybe because it’s another thing they both know), letting her hand drop back to her side.
He reaches for her wrist before he can stop himself, large hand curling around it. Not tight enough to hurt, just maintaining the contact.
“No,” she says. “It’s not my job to convince you of anything. I’m not here to save you. I’m here to let you know you have a choice.”
“To spend the rest of my life serving people who have every reason to hate me?”
Rey gives a single-shouldered shrug. “If that’s how you want to look at it. No one controls how you think any more. You have to decide what you can live with. I’m just here to let you know what I can live with.”
And she slowly, gently, removes his hand from her. The air itself seems to shiver with disappointment when they’re no longer touching, but she’s gotten good at ignoring that sort of thing. She draws in a breath and takes a firm step backwards. And then another, and another, until she’s pivoted on her heel and his making her way back to the stairs.
“Is this it?” The wind catches his words and tosses them after her, but she thinks the desperation on them is all his. “I come with you now, or I never see you again?”
“It doesn’t have to be now,” she shouts back. “I’m not here to give you timelines, either.”
Silence. She makes her way down those ancient steps without being interrupted by anything more than the squall of wildlife and the incessant rumble of the sea.
It’s not disappointment sitting in her chest, as she lowers herself into the pilot’s seat. But there is something heavy there, something that she’s going to have to take a closer look at one of these. Maybe when–
The Force shifts. Not dramatically, or violently. Just one of a trillion small yet significant motions that it goes through every day. Something tickles in the back of her mind. His voice.
Prompt: It's Klaus birthday in NOLA and Rebekah secretly sent an invitation for Caroline, because the siblings have a secret bet going on about who's present gonna be the best. After 1000 what does one give to someone who can get whatever he wants :D
Kol is sipping a margarita, splayed out on one of the leather couches in their lounge room when she gets back from her shopping expedition in New Orleans.
The radio is on, playing one of those inane pop tunes that Kol for some reason seemed to love, and his foot is swaying lazily to the beat as he stares up at the fan whirring lazily on the ceiling above them.
“What on Earth are you doing?” She asks of Kol, whose eyes flick towards her, a self satisfied smile creeping across his face when he sees her.
“Celebrating.” Kol says with great relish, taking a sip of his margarita. “Can I offer you a drink, sister?”
“Knowing you you’ve probably spiked it with some sort of sleeping potion, so it’ll be a hard pass this time.” She replies with disdain, remembering the last time Elijah had accepted a drink from Kol, and had then promptly broken out in hives that had taken quite a few days to disappear, and only with the assistance of a witch that owed Elijah quite a few favours.
Kol had ended up with a dagger in his chest for a month before Elijah had deigned to make amends with him.
“God you’re all no fun.” Kol mumbles under his breath, sitting up on the couch and planting his booted feet on the floor. “And since you never asked what I was celebrating, I’m going to tell you anyway.”
“Of course you are.” She remarks dryly, tapping her foot against the floor, cursing the humidity that seemed to hang over New Orleans at this time of the year like an unpleasant shroud.
Already she can feel her hair sticking to the back of her neck, her clothes pressing to her skin unpleasantly. Maybe she could go for a swim a little later.
“Well, as you well know Bekah, Nik’s birthday is coming up. And I know that we all try and one up each other when it comes to buying him a gift. God knows why considering how many times he’s daggered us all… If anything he should be buying us presents to make up for it.” Kol is just thinking out loud now, and she can’t help but sigh, massaging her temples.
In fact, Nik had brought her plenty of gifts to make up for the whole daggering thing, knowing that she was materialistic at heart and was far more likely to respond positively to that than murmured platitudes and constant apologies.
She wouldn’t give up her designer wardrobe, villa in Tuscany, and private island for anything.
“Get to the point.” She snarls as Kol continues to mumble under his breath.
“Fine. I just want to tell you and Elijah that you shouldn’t bother trying this year, because I’ve got him the present to end all presents. The perfect gift.”
“You do?” She asks incredulously, because Kol’s idea of a perfect gift is usually a stripper or a gift voucher to some obscure store.
“I do.” Kol says with another smug smile. “So just don’t even go there this year Bekah. You’re not going to beat me!”
With that, Kol drains the rest of his margarita, falling back to lie on the couch once more.
Justin Bieber starts playing on the radio, and as she marches out of the room to escape the stupidity of the song, an idea begins to form in her mind.
Kol wasn’t going to know what hit him.
“I could get used to this.” Caroline Forbes remarks with a laugh, reclining on the pure white sand as the sun beats fiercely down on her skin.
“I’m not sure about the heat.” Enzo has propped himself up on her elbow next to her, Ray Bans covering most of his features as he takes in the crystalline blue water. “Although it is a beautiful corner of the world.”
She’d been dying to come to Australia for some time now, and she and Enzo had spent the last few months wandering the massive island continent. As she very quickly discovered, there was so much more to Australia than the cosmopolitan city of Sydney.
They went dune boarding at Port Stephens, a little coastal town three hours north east of the capital of NSW. They spent a week on the Gold Coast, checking out the bars and clubs that peppered the famous city.
They spent another week on a cattle ranch in the far flung part of Queensland that no one else ever seemed to go to, made friends with the locals as they had to revert back to animal blood momentarily.
The Northern Territory was amazing, as had been Western Australia. The Barossa Valley had been a favourite, rich wine country with vineyards stretching as far as the eye could see.
Enzo had loved Melbourne, loved the coffee culture and all the hip little laneway bars that were only discovered if you stumbled across them by accident. Someone had suggested the Whitsundays for their next destination, and after looking at some pictures online she and Enzo had very quickly booked one of the resorts there.
The past few days had been spent snorkelling on the Great Barrier reef, reclining on the deck of the sailboat they had hired, swimming in clear blue waters, and sampling some of the amazing food at the various restaurants dotted around the island.
She thanked her lucky stars that she technically couldn’t put on weight now that she was dead and all, so had absolutely no guilt about helping herself to a second or third plate of food at dinner time, washing it down with some wine.
“That it is.” She agrees quietly with Enzo, sipping at her bottle of water, watching clouds scud across the cornflower blue sky.
Someone whistles at them from the shore line, and she raises her hand in acknowledgement towards the skipper of their boat, sitting up and beginning to gather her belongings, shoving them back into the canvas beach bag she carried with her.
She dusts the sane off her as she and Enzo make their way over to the boat, ankle deep in the cool water before they’re being handed up onto the deck.
When she gets back to their room, she’s surprised to see an envelope addressed to her. She hadn’t given anyone an address while she’d been travelling, and so she approaches the envelope with a healthy dose of caution.
Picking it up between two fingers, she gingerly breaks the wax seal on the back, pulling out the parchment within and unfolding it quickly.
My brother is celebrating his birthday this year. Although I’m not particularly eager to see you anytime soon, I know that Nik would like it. Details are within.
She can’t help but cover her mouth, snorting with laughter as she hands the folded up piece of paper to Enzo to read.
“Rather direct, isn’t she?”
“Yes, that always has been her m.o.” She replies with another soft laugh, eyes scanning the contents of the invitation before tossing it onto the bed.
“So are you going to go?” Enzo questions curiously, leaning over to read the invitation as well.
“I don’t know. Maybe?” She answers it like a question, becuase to be honest she’s still not half sure herself.
Enzo raises an eyebrow at that.
“Maybe? That’s a complete 180 from last year when it was a flat out no. Could it be that your feelings towards the big bad hybrid have changed?”
She hits Enzo on the arm good naturedly.
“It’s not like that. It’ll just be… good to see him.” She trails off lamely, knowing that it’s a pathetic excuse if ever she’s heard one.
To be honest, she’d been thinking about Klaus a lot more lately. She hadn’t seen him in almost a decade, the last time being quite a memorable weekend they’d spent together in Tuscany, when they hadn’t done much more than have sex and drink wine from teh surrounding vineyards.
Most of the weekend had been spent in bed, Klaus determined to show her just how good they were with each other, which they were. Klaus continued to be the best sex of her lfie, and if the infuriating smile that he wore on his face every time he brought her to climax was anything to go by, he knew it as well.
But they both had other priorities. She was content to continue her nomadic lifestyle, discovering some of the far flung and forgotten corners of the world, Enzo in tow more often than not.
Klaus had settled into his life in New Orleans, ruling the city with an iron fist, his siblings still with him.
She’d never been. Setting foot into his city would be sending a message, that she was willing to entertain the idea of a forever with him. And she hadn’t been ready for that yet. But now…
“I can see that your mind has already been made up.” Enzo replies with a slow smile. “Are you sure?”
She just takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders.
“I’m going to need a dress.”
The party below them is in full swing, members of the supernatural community mingling in the courtyard below them.
Kol leans on the balcony beside her, hair swept artfully away from his forehead, tuxedo clinging to the firm lines of his body. He sips at his drink, glancing at her for a moment.
“Did you even try to get him something this year?” He asks with a chuckle. “You’ve been surprisingly tight lipped this year sister.”
She smooths down the front of her black party dress, raising her own glass to her lips as she takes a drink.
“I tried something different this year. Apparently it didn’t work out.” She notes with a shrug, downing the rest of her drink and setting the now empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter.
Kol stares at her for a long moment, trying to figure out the meaning behind her words.
“Shame.” He pronounces with a shrug. “You’re usually much better at this. Did you order something online and it didnt’ arrive on time or something?”
She just smiles to herself, phone buzzing in her hand.
“Something like that.”
And then she thumbs into the message, reading the two words displayed across her screen.
The doorman of course, had been under strict instructions to keep an eye out for Caroline. He’d been provided with a picture of the baby vampire, one from her Mystic Falls days where she’d been polished and primped and wearing a ballgown.
All the same, Caroline Forbes was rather hard to miss, even dressed in plain clothes with her hair in disarray. She would know because she’d seen the girl in such a state during one memorable run in at the MIkaelson mansion in Mystic Falls.
It hadn’t taken a genius to know exactly why Caroline was doing the walk of shame at such an infernal hour of the morning. The younger girl had blushed, hair falling into her face as she had whispered a soft goodbye before letting herself out into the weak early morning light.
She had mentioned this as an aside to Kol, who had promptly teased Nik about it. Nik had snapped his neck and they hadn’t mentioned it since.
“Am I boring you?” Kol’s voice abruptly interrupts her train of thought, and she locks her phone, eyes flicking up towards her brother, who’s staring at her like she’s just grown a second head. “Where did you go just now?”
She just draws herself up to her full height, snagging another flute of champagne.
“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch brother.”
The doorman is staring at her strangely. She can’t imagine why, because she most certainly does not have lipstick on her teeth (she checked). The navy blue party dress that she’s wearing makes her tanned legs look a mile long, and accentuates the curves of her body.
Her hair, which she had spent a ridiculous amount of time on, was twisted into an elegant up do, and she was wearing a necklace that Klaus had gifted to her during their time in Tuscany.
The short of it was, she looked a million bucks.
“Caroline Forbes.” A voice drawls as she steps into the entrance of the courtyard.
Rebekah Mikaelson hasn’t changed a bit, that bored expression on her face ever present. She’s wearing a killer pair of Manolos and she can’t help but eye off the striking shoes with a bit of jealousy.
“Rebekah.” She finally answers, swallowing around the lump in her throat as Rebekah just smiles, pressing a drink into her hand.
“I didn’t think you were going to come.” Rebekah sips at her own drink as she turns, moving more towards the crowd of people, a few of whom eye them off with barely concealed curiosity. “You know, since I didn’t receive your RSVP or anything like that.”
“Sorry.” She replies to the older vampire, smoothing a hand over her hair. “I was undecided until quite recently. I did send word but apparently you didn’t get the message in time.”
“No matter.” Rebekah waves a hand dismissively. “You’re here now and that’s all that matters.”
Rebekah tilts her gaze upwards towards the balcony, and she follows the line of the Original’s gaze. Kol Mikaelson has a drink in her hand, and is gaping at her with his mouth hanging open rather unattractively.
Within split seconds his gaze lands on Rebekah, eyes narrowing as he raises his drink towards his sister in a toast for some reason.
“What was that about?” She asks Rebekah, who lifts one shoulder in an elegant shrug as the crowd clears momentarily and she spots Klaus from across the room.
He looks entirely at ease in this particular setting, his tuxedo clinging sharply to the lines of his broad shoulders, pants tailored to within an inch of their life. He’s got his head thrown back in laughter as he talks to another man, drink in hand and looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“What on earth has he done to his hair?” She hisses towards Rebekah in horror. “It looks atrocious.”
She sees Klaus stiffen at that, and curses his superior Hybrid hearing as his gaze suddenly lands on her, eyes dark.
It’s perhaps the first time that she’s seen him truly caught off guard, and she can’t help but raise her glass to her lips, not realising just how much liquid courage she’d need to fortify herself with for this particular encounter.
The crowd seems to part before Klaus as he moves towards her, Rebekah giving her a gentle nudge, encouraging her to meet him halfway.
If that wasn’t a metaphor for their relationship, she didn’t know what was.
Klaus stops before her, gaze indecipherable as he reaches out, traces a gentle hand along her cheekbone.
The weight of the curious gazes around her is heavy, and she can’t help but lean into his touch as he bends, taking her hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to it.
He straightens, and his smile is like the sun.
It feels strange, being on Klaus’ arm. For a moment, she can’t help but think that Klaus is showing her off, demonstrating his power.
Until he begins introducing her to people, a hand resting dangerously on her lower back, thumb rubbing circles into where her dress does not cover up the skin of her back.
He seems content to take a backseat in their conversation, instead observing silently as she exchanges greetings with various witches and werewolves and vampires.
She sips at her drink as someone else comes to greet Klaus, and it takes a moment for her to realise why this time is so different. Klaus isn’t treating her like an object. He never has, a byproduct of his thousand or so years of existence.
No. Klaus is treating her like an equal, and the thought of that sends a thrill down her spine. So when there’s a break in the conversation she twines an arm around his waist, pressing a quick kiss to his neck.
In response Klaus pulls her closer to him but doesn’t comment, carrying on his conversation effortlessly.
Hours later as the guests begin to filter out into the street, Klaus pulls her in close to her chest.
“What are you doing here Caroline?” He asks in a low voice, tone dangerous. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, of course I am.”
She meets his gaze confidently, hand drifting up his chest to fix the lapel of his dinner jacket.
“I’m here for you Klaus.” She tells him with a smile. “You remember that weekend in Tuscany, when you let me go without a word of protest?”
Klaus’ lips curl into a smirk.
“How could I forget Tuscany?”
“You didn’t push me. And I was grateful for that, even though I did know that you wouldn’t wait around forever for me. And when you kept your distance in the following years, I was grateful. But I also missed not having you around.”
Her eyes drop to the crisp lines of his shirt as her hands drift down towards his waist. His breath is hot against her cheek, and he’s gone unnaturally still as he waits to hear the next words out of her mouth.
“You offered me forever and I wasn’t ready then. But I am now.” She says softly, hands sliding up his chest, twining around his neck as his gaze darkens, mouth hanging open in surprise. “If you’ll still have me of course.
Klaus’ lips against hers is the only answer he provides, the only answer she needs. Klaus kisses her like he’s a starving man, like he’s been deprived of something for so long.
She’s scarcely less eager to return his embrace, missing the feeling of him, the familiar smell of him.
She doesn’t protest when Klaus picks her up in his arms, using his vamp speed to get the from the courtyard to what is undoubtedly his bedroom.
He’s got her pressed up against the closed door before she can even think about it, lips hot against the skin of her neck as he nips at her with a content sigh.
His jacket drops to the floor, and she helps him unbutton his shirt, no doubt in her mind as to the direction that this is heading.
Her hands roam over the skin of his chest, catalouging all the new scars that he’s acquired since she saw him last, hand pausing over a particularly nasty looking scar, no doubt caused by some sort of stabbing.
“You’ll have to tell me that story later.” She murmurs, tipping a finger under his chin and kissing him gently.
“Later.” Klaus agrees in a low voice, hands pausing at the seams of her dress.
She’s reversed their positions in an instant, Klaus pressed up against the door with a surprised look on his face.
“Don’t you dare rip this dress.” She hisses at him, knowing his proclivity for destroying her clothes when he’s in this sort of mood. “I like this one.”
His low chuckle curls around her, a warm feeling in the bottom of her stomach as he turns her gently by the shoulders, a hot open mouthed kiss pressed to the side of her neck.
His hands on the zipper are like fire as he pulls it down slowly, fingers brushing over the exposed skin of her back as he pushes the dress from her shoulders.
It pools at her feet, and she hears his breath hitch in his throat as he runs a gentle hand down her back.
“I’ve missed this.” Klaus murmurs to her, walking her backwards towards his bed, both of them kicking off their shoes, Klaus shucking his socks as they go.
He grips her by the hips, easily lifting her up and tossing her onto the mattress, a giggle escaping her lips as Klaus’s gaze darkens.
“Come here.” She beckons to him as Klaus crawls between her knees, covering her body with his as he takes her into his arms.
The feeling is unfamiliar and familiar all at once, Klaus’ erection pressing into her core as she tangles her lips with his.
A soft moan escapes her as Klaus’ lips scorch a hot trail down her throat, face nuzzling between the valley of her breasts, stubble scratching against her sensitive skin.
“Pants off.” She orders after a momentary pause, Klaus chuckling as he does her bidding.
“A little eager aren’t we?” He asks her with an infuriating smile as he hooks long fingers into the waistband of her panties.
“We’ve got ten years to make up for.” She just breathes, watching as his face softens, hand coming up to cup her cheek delicately as he lines up his body with hers, cock nudging gently at her entrance.
She can’t help but gasp at the feeling, heel nudging at his arse as he smiles down at her.
“We’ve got all the time in the world sweetheart.” He replies before pushing into her heat with one, smooth stroke.
She’s missed this, the feeling of being filled by him, and her eyes roll back into her head at just how good it is, at how good he is.
Klaus had learnt to read her body with an almost eerie sixth sense, and he puts all of his learned knowledge into practice as he sets a rhythm that has her unable to do much more than gasp and hold on for the ride.
Klaus rolls suddenly, reversing their positions as she sways above him, a little startled. Klaus just smiles, still hard inside her as he guides her arms around his broad shoulders, hands hot around her waist as he helps to lift her, guide her up and down.
She’s always loved this position with him, loved the power and the look of awe that always creeped across his face when he saw her like this.
She bends down to kiss him, rolling her hips in a gentle rhythm against his. Klaus’ hand traces down the front of her body, thumb pinpointing her clit with an unerring accuracy.
She shudders a little when he presses there, rhythm broken momentarily as she opens her mouth in a silent moan.
She can feel the tell tale build in her core, the ache becoming almost unbearable as she increases her rhythm, anchoring her hands on his shoulders as he begins to thrust up into her with a look of concentration on his face.
She falls apart in his arms, Klaus catching her, turning and pressing her down into the mattress as he continues to drive into her, the pleasure edging into pain at the sensitivity.
Klaus knows this though, gentles the movement of his hips until it curls low in her belly once more, building impossibly fast to her peak.
They come together this time, her name on his lips as he buries his face into her neck, feels the heat of him inside her.
She runs a hand through his sweat dampened hair, breathing slowly returning to normal as he pulls out and heads for the bathroom, returning in the next few moments with a damp cloth to wipe themselves down with.
When he’s done he pulls her into the circle of his arms, a content exhale as he props one arm under his head, staring up at the ceiling.
They don’t have to say much. They never do in moments like this. But she feels like she has to say this.
“I love you.” She whispers into the skin of his chest, Klaus stiffening momentarily around her before he’s pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her hand, eyes brimming with emotion.
He doesn’t say it back but that’s okay. She knows that he’s felt this way about her for a long time, and she’s not going to get hung up on her insecurities like she used to when it came to him.
The moment is perfect, and she wouldn’t change it for the world.
“I hope you’ve got space in your wardrobe for all my clothes.” She voices out loud suddenly, propping herself up on her elbow to face him.
Klaus’ burst of startled laughter is like music to her hears.
On the lower levels of the house, Rebekah Mikaelson pours herself a victory drink, Kol glowering on the lounge opposite her as the fire crackles merrily away in the hearth.
“Do you concede?” She asks of Kol, who just glares at her, cracking his knuckles a little threateningly.
Hi! I just started following you and I was wondering if you had a post that talks about Kaiju's...origin story I guess? I'm just really interested in what drew you to tegus and why/how you ended up with Kaiju. She's super cute and I can tell you really love her!
Picture this: A teenager running wild on an island in the summer. She’s got a bike and her cell phone and her parents’ permission to go anywhere she wants- it’s a small island, not a lot can happen- and anyways, there’s more bikes than cars. So long as she stays out of the swamps and doesn’t leave the island, she can pretty much do as she likes. It’s a heady feeling, freedom- knowing that you’re at your liberty to do whatever you like without having to compromise. Just you and your thoughts and what seems like an endless summer day before the sun sinks into the ocean.
And that teenager, being me, had some favorite places on the island. The old cemetery, the library, the historical village, the beach, the bayou (ha ha like I’m gonna stay out of the swamp), and the nature center, complete with its trails and lookouts and places to kayak. So one day, I’m tooling around Sanibel and I stop at one of the little cafés that dot the island- there’s dozens of them, little restaurants with charming names and coffee shops that sell shade and air conditioning as much as they sell coffee- and I’m browsing through a flier of events for the week and I see there’s going to be a talk about American crocodiles over at the nature center. Now, I’ve got a deep and abiding love for American crocodiles and their close cousins, the Cuban crocodile- so I pedal over there, intent on going. I got there a lot earlier than I needed to for the program, and I catch the tail end of another program on invasive species- and that’s when I saw the picture.
Five feet long, black and white, a striking lizard with beautiful eyes. A long pink tongue poked out, and I could tell it walked with a purpose. I’d always wanted a big lizard, but had never even seen one of those before. I knew it wasn’t a monitor, but what was it? Tegu. I’d seen the word before, when I was a kid. I had this big encyclopedia-type book of reptiles, and all I remembered was that they were so much of a pest to chicken farmers in Argentina that some of the Argentinian chicken farmers actually switched over to farming the tegus. I hadn’t ever thought about it since, and I’d never seen an actual picture of one this big and pretty.
Awed by the lizard, I put it out of my mind- after all, I was living in a dorm room. But then, several years later, I’d moved out and was in an apartment that was a-ok with me having animals. I knew the time was right to get a big lizard. I had the time, the space, the money, and the experience. Originally, I’d wanted a peach-throat monitor, but something about them just didn’t feel right. I’d started researching them about a year before I moved, and there were some things that just didn’t quite mesh with my lifestyle. But then I considered the tegu and realize that we’d be perfect for each other.
The question, then, was which tegu to get? I knew I wanted a black and white or a blue, and I knew I didn’t want a baby. A yearling, I thought. That’d be ideal. So I started looking at breeders and sellers and seeing who had what- and that’s when I came across a guy who trapped ferals and sold them as pets. So here was a guy engaging directly in Everglades conservation by removing individuals from the population, but at the same time, not killing them. I was charmed immediately. He didn’t have any females listed on his site, but I sent him an e-mail and asked, and he sent me some pictures of two younger females he had for sale. One was this spectacular flashy high white lady; the other was smaller, darker, and slightly out of focus.
But there was just… something about her. I couldn’t explain it, really- I just saw the picture and went “yup, that’s my lizard.”
She was at my house three days later. She’s a lot bigger now and as far as I can tell, nice and content to be living in an apartment rather than a swamp.
Hey Puffletruffle! You got any head canons for how the EPF agents were caught? I personally believe the Director/ AA realised how close Herbert was to finding out (Agent) Ace's identity and so let themselves be found to detract from them while Ace saved the island .The after effects of being put under would also be up for debate, beside freezing... they all need cuddles and blankets.
Ello, Anon! I don’t know how long this ask has been sitting here but sorry I didn’t see your ask sooner! <3 I haven’t been able to check up on this poor blog as much as I’ve been needing too, busyness is a cruel monster.
In reply to your headcanon about Miss Director, I really love it! (although in all honesty I love all Club Penguin theories/headcanons that people send me) But I think this was well thought out and makes a lot of sense. She wouldn’t be as easy to capture if that wasn’t the case and do absolutely anything to protect her island and agents and I wouldn’t put it past her at all to do that. Not to mention the way her frozen self is standing with the utmost dignity and leadership, even if it’s hard for her she looks like she knows exactly what’s happening and what she’s doing.
I’d like to thank you for asking about my headcanons/theories about how they got captured because I could talk about theories for their more serious parties like these for hours (but to save you time I will just try to answer your question lol).
PREPARE FOR MANY SPOILERS ABOUT OPERATION BLACKOUT, ME GOING OFF-TOPIC ABOUT A THOUSAND TIMES, AND MOST LIKELY A VERY LONG READ:
When we contemplate the whole world as one great dewdrop, stripped and dotted with continents and island, flying through space with other stars all singing and shining together as one, the whole universe appears as an infinite storm of beauty.
- John Muir
He could remember the last few moments he shared with her when
they were imprisoned together. The bars were at least wide enough for them to
see one another and to let their hands touch, and Jacob wished he had done more
during that final night they knew they had…he wished he had done more than just
mourn the loss he knew he was going to have beyond his sister while there in
that cell; especially knowing he would be mourning his wife’s death for years
Net was down for several hours so I thought I’d finish up
this piece. =)
Jacob Frye in the AU: Steampunk story The Clockwork Soldier.
You can see part of the giant gear in his back now that I’ve finished it up. The
map on the back wall is a map of Shakeep
Island. The dots are
cities and the star is where Shakeep
Castle itself is. Because
it is a floating island, that water is basically going into the void, I guess.
No references used for Jacob but a major reference used for
The realm of Kievan Rus was riddled with
rivers that worked as superhighways for fast and easy travel: routes connecting
the Rus to the Balts, Finns, Ugrians and Scandinavians to the north; ones
leading east into the domains of the infamous steppe nomads and the rich Islamic
world; south to the Black Sea which gave access to the Bulgarian Empire and the
Byzantines. While land travel was possible it was made all the more
difficult for large armies as the ground would become muddied in the spring and
autumn due to rainfall and winter snows melting. However, in the winter it
was actually easier to traverse on foot than it was during the warmer seasons
as the rivers would freeze and the Rus would also employ the
use of sleds, snowshoes, skis and ‘frost nails’ (spikes on the
bottom of shoes or horseshoes for traction; think of cleats).
^ Frost Nails.
The Rus that sailed these rivers had to
avoid obstructions and shallow rapids so they (portaged) carried or pulled
their ships onto land, dragged them over logs until they passed around these
obstacles then pushed their ships back into the river at another location.
This was also done to move boats from one river to another since the whole of
their realm was a patchwork or web of waterways. This process of portaging
could prove to be a dangerous one as the Rus would become susceptible
to being ambushed or assaulted by various nomadic steppe peoples.
To combat this Rusians constructed ports,
garrisons and forts along the rivers to give temporary refuge, shelter, aid and
protection. Another safe refuge for the Rusians were the many islands that
dotted the rivers they traversed. Since the Rus typically dominated rivers they
used these islands as pit stops to keep the bandit horsemen of the steppes at
bay. The Rus also hired and allied themselves with some steppe nomads to
ward off other hostile invaders. The Druzhina (imperial
guards) and these nomad allies rode on land
alongside the vessels sailing these rivers and guarded them while they portaged.
“Nor can the
Russians come at this imperial city of the Romans, either for war or for trade,
unless they are at peace with the Pechenegs, because when the Russians come
with their ships to the barrages of the river and cannot pass through unless
they lift their ships off the river and carry them past by portaging them on
their shoulders, then the men of this nation of the Pechenegs set upon them,
and, as they cannot do two things at once, they are easily routed and cut to
pieces…” – De Administrando Imperio (“On the Administration of
the Empire”) by Byzantine Emperor Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus
Though the many rapids that peppered the
great rivers of the Rus were a hassle, they were also just as much of a curse
as they were a blessing. Enemies attempting to lead a naval invasion of Kievan
Rus were constricted by the fact that they could only use smaller vessels
capable of sailing shallow rivers and in effect, send less men up at a
time. Enemy vessels were also equally at risk of being attacked while
portaging as the Rus were. Another advantage of the previously
mentioned portages was that these points, and the fortified structures often
stationed near them, became advantageous for traders and merchants and boat
^ Osprey - ‘Men-at-Arms’ series, issue 491 - Armies of the Volga Bulgars & Khanate of Kazan, 9th–16th Centuries. “Reconstruction of an ushkuy as used by the ushkuyniki river-pirates, and probably by many other peoples on the Volga and Kama river system. Clinker-built from pine planks, these craft had a length of 12–14m (39–46ft), a beam of perhaps one-fifth that length, a shallow draught of approximately 0.5m (20in) below the water, and about 1m (39in) of freeboard. This design gave the uskhuy considerable speed for a medieval vessel. (A.S. Sheps)”
The Rus used a type of dugout boats called a monoxyla, (Greek “single-tree”) which were able to sail shallow waters. According to the ‘De Administrando Imperio’,
written by Byzantine Emperor Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus around c.950, the
Slavic Krivichians and the Lenzanenes would go into the mountains during the
winters where they would cut down trees for the crafting of monoxyla and
by spring time they traverse down the now thawed Dnieper River and sell the
monoxyla to the Rus. The Rus themselves added oars, rowlocks and tackle and
when the Rus neared more easily traversable lakes and seas they made use of
their masts, sails and rudders. Another ship used in the north was
the easily portaged Finnish ushkui (uisk, “snake”)
which was made famous by the Novgorodian pirates referred to
as the Ushkuiniks who are seen as both heroes and villains
depending on one’s perspective.
^ Osprey - ‘Men-at-Arms’ series, issue 491 - Armies of the Volga Bulgars & Khanate of Kazan, 9th–16th Centuries. Plate E: THE USHKUYNIKI MENACE, 14th–15th CENTURIES - E2: Archer, 14th–15th centuries: “This Volga Bulgar foot-soldier wears gear practically identical to his Russian ushkuyniki foes. The spired steel helmet has an aventail divided at both sides, covering his neck back and front but not the shoulders. The mail hauberk is short-hemmed but has sleeves to below the elbow. Note that the long-sleeved, quilted coat-armour is much shorter at the back than at the front, where it is divided from hem to belly. The slung shield and the archery equipment also resemble Russian styles, though the signalling whistle attached below his arrowhead may have been confined to the Mongols and their Volga Bulgar vassals.”
If there are any errors please privately inbox me so I can update it. As always, if you’d like to read or learn about any specific historical subjects just let me know what they are and I will take note of them.
KIEVAN RUS: PART 1 –
NORTHERN ENIGMA OF THE MIDDLE AGES: In this post I will be covering the early
portion of the medieval realm known as Kievan Rus (pronounced ‘Roos’); a
multiethnic and cultural realm incorporating the Norse, Slavs, Turks, Balts and
Finno-Ugrians. A realm centered around the many rivers that were riddled
throughout its domains and led them to the riches of the Byzantine Empire,
Silverland (Islamic Middle East) and the Baltic Sea. The culture,
battle tactics and armaments of the ancient Slavs are addressed as
well as the Druzhina (personal bodyguards and standing army).
Also mentioned are some of the conflicts the Rus had with one another, the
Greeks (Byzantine Empire), Bulgarians and Turkish steppe nomads.
KIEVAN RUS: PART 2 – DYING LIGHT IN A DARK AGE: In this post I will cover some of
the civil wars, wars of succession and familicide that plagued
Kievan Rus; their peak under leaders like Vladimir the Great (who
unified the Rus and made Orthodox Christianity their official religion)
and Yaroslav the Wise (while Europe was in a dark age, he made
Kievan Rus a beacon of knowledge, literacy, trade and faith); Kievan Rus’
shattering into various feuding states, their clash against the Mongols
and their rarely spoken of religion. The Chernye Klobuki (Turkish
mercenaries) and the Varangian Guard (Norse, Slavic, Germanic,
etc.) are also noted; the latter were warriors employed by the Byzantine Empire
to act as the Emperor’s trusted personal guard and on occasion they acted as
pirate hunters, policemen, jailers, prison guards, torturers and interrogators.
Thousands of tsunami stones dot the islands of Japan. Some are more than six centuries old. They warn people not to build their houses below the stone or they could be wiped out by a tsunami. They’re messages to future generations to avoid the same suffering their ancestors did. (Source)
thousands of island dot the coast line, unfound and unknown. so many that people are unsure which are real and which aren’t. Aunt Sarah’s Ledge, Deadman Point, Pound of Tea and Poverty Nub. and the 26 all named Bar. boats blow past them in the night and there’s no sound on the radio. just static.
old men, hands as rough as rope, toil endlessly on piers. night after night, their boats docked in the inky water, they hum an ancient tune and grin at the sea as if they’ve seen it’s worst and they know that while nature is cruel men will always be crueler.
people say the devil burns hot. up north they say other wise. they say the devil is the open woods, freezing and laughing as you load your rifle with another round. but you can’t shoot darkness, kid. there’s nothing there.
the paper mill is closed. the paper mill is starting up every morning in the same way, the sound of machines whirring to life and the march of footsteps. you throw a rock at a window and pretend you don’t hear shouts when it shatters the glass. the water wheel turns and the paper mill is closed.
witches don’t die. they take classes at the university, 13 members of the occult, class of ‘79. they stain grave stones, with feet and hearts, the only parts of the girls that didn’t burn. witches don’t die, not here anyway. they roam the graveyard at night and run surprisingly seamless websites.
there are no billboards in maine. no “hell is real”, no “jesus saves”. so people make do. they paint it on barn sides and picket signs. they scream it from the mountain tops and sear it into your heart. they feel it in their gut, late at night and later still, when the church two towns over burns down and you swear you can still smell the smoke.
there’s a one stoplight town with a grocery store and a gas station that kisses the canadian border. people stare at you as you drive by. you’re from around here. they know that, they can tell by your skin and teeth and smile. from around here, but not from here. not here, not here, for the love of god, not here.
there’s a car stalled on the I-95. a neon diner sign, never turned off. an old bean factory, a rusted bridge and schoolhouse that hasn’t seen a child’s face in ages. there’s a feeling of belonging, of shells between your fingers and of fear. there’s a signal on channel 6, but no pictures. just static.
“When we contemplate the whole globe as one great dewdrop, striped and dotted with continents and islands, flying through space with other stars all singing and shining together as one, the whole universe appears as an infinite storm of beauty.” – John Muir