#Medieval Mayhem

[the-outer-topic]

Eagle knight

[pollyanna-nana]

Finished the epilogue (blew thru it quick through the power of having somewhere to be this morning) and Oh My God. It was so good guys I dhdhdjeondnd look it makes me so sad that these games are so rushed and bad mechanically because Scarvio has the best writing in the series BY FAR imo. I love my goofy ass kids. So happy to see Kieran’s character arc come full circle and he trusts and believes in himself again. I’m gonna miss these guys and the Paldea games soooooo much I hope gen 10 goes just as hard in the writing and characters department

[noodle-anime]

I don't know exactly what these two have going on but it sure is Something

[knightofthynight]

Hey

You can call me Håkon, or just H if you want to, and I draw, make edits and make some songs on my guitar sometimes idk

I like knights related things (and medieval times sh1t), i also like black metal, dsbm and some other genres (my favourite bands are apati, lifelover, nocturnal d3pr3ssi0n, mayhem and psychonaut 4) and some other stuff i will probably mention on my posts.

thats it ig, if i remember anything else i will add it here :>

[dnickels]

Medieval Oxford had a murder rate about three times higher than London’s during the same period, and some sixty times the level Oxford has today. (At between sixty and seventy homicides per hundred thousand people, medieval Oxford’s rate compares, roughly, to that of present-day New Orleans.) The town was in decline as a center of the wool trade but alive with the mayhem of some fifteen hundred young men—loosely supervised, theoretically celibate, armed with crossbows—the scholars of the university. In the twelfth century, Oxford began to emerge, alongside Paris and Bologna, as one of Europe’s prime seats of learning. (All three had crime problems.) “If I wanted to give advice these days about, well, what could you do to really seriously increase levels of violence in our society?” Eisner said. “Probably I would say, ‘O.K., take a few thousand fourteen-year-olds, just males, out of their context, give them knives and lots of alcohol, and put them into halls—and wait and see.’ ” In the Oxford murders that Eisner has looked at, more than seventy per cent of the victims and the perpetrators were students. Ninety-nine per cent were male. (During the same period, eight per cent of London’s murderers were women.)

Colin Dexter vindicated

[justwinginglife]

I have had this on my mind for a while now. Fem reader was a cruel villain in her previous life and was reincarnated to the Kn8 universe and met Soshiro and well... In love :3

Go crazy my friend.

Forgive me, this could've been a whole ass series, and I was too lazy to make it one LOL. Also I changed up the prompt slightly so that reader has always been in the KN8 universe, just reincarnating through the years.

Of All The Ways To Die

You were dying and they’d cursed you.

The audacity.

For the crime of being a witch, you’d been bound, gagged, and condemned to be burned alive. As the flames devoured your flesh, as the heat ravaged your body, as the smoke filled your lungs, you thought you glimpsed the gates of Hell in your last moments. They were flung open wide for you, and the tortured souls of your past were waiting to claim you, impatient for your penance. If that wasn’t nightmare enough, the Hoshinas had the audacity to send you to your damnation with a final parting gift- they placed a curse on you. 

In this life and the next, in heaven and in hell, in purgatory and in limbo, in the span of every universe that could ever or would ever exist, your soul was cursed to an eternity bound to their clan. There was no world in which you could run or hide, there was only their infinite retribution. 

It was a cruel punishment to be shackled to the souls of your murderers, to have every life you could ever live ended at their hands, but you didn’t intend to go quietly. You intended to make this curse as torturous for them as it was for you. If they were going to sabotage you at every turn, you’d just have to make your death worth it. If they were the protectors of peace, you were the bringer of chaos. And you planned to make such a mess of this world that even a Hoshina couldn’t put it back together. 

If they were the heroes of this never ending saga, you were the perfect villain.

“I’ll see you on the other side of eternity.” 

Your malicious grin was the last thing they saw before the flames enveloped you. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You kept your promise in every life.

Even with no memories of your previous reincarnations, even with no knowledge of this everlasting curse, you left mayhem and madness in your wake. It was almost as though you couldn’t help yourself, as though evil were your second nature. 

And when another Hoshina arrived at your door, when they claimed yet another one of your lives, you found some satisfaction in your death, knowing you’d caused so much devastation as to warrant their intervention. 

As you succumbed to your fate, letting the darkness take hold of you once again, you wondered what trouble you could get up to in the next life. 

You found your answer in the form of the black market. 

In this technologically advanced age you’d now found yourself in, there was no room for witchcraft, for medieval villainy, there was simply give and take. And you took everything.

Before you knew it, you were the ruler over the black market. Every deal that was made, every secret that was whispered, every resource that was extracted, everything was yours to use as you pleased. In the span of a decade, you’d amassed an enormous empire. 

And Soshiro had no idea.

In every life you’d ever lived, one Hoshina or another would always find you at your most heinous, at the peak of your degeneracy. And then your life would end. 

But in this life, as though Fate had grown tired of this game, as though eternity was much too infinite for their liking, you grew up right next door to the Hoshinas. And Soshiro became your best friend.

For a while, his good influence was enough to corral most of your immorality on most days, but no one could help your greed or your ambition or your cunning. 

When he ran off to join the Defense Force, your competing ambitions pulled the two of you apart. You weren’t as pure as he was, you wouldn’t dare waste your energy on such a ridiculous profession; it was a noble one but still ridiculous in your eyes. Meanwhile he couldn’t think of anything better. Though his endless optimism should’ve infuriated you, it only made you love him more. He saw the world for how cruel it was and still chose to hope for better. And some part of you couldn’t help but wonder if he could see the same in you. But the allure of the underworld held more appeal than your one sided love and before you knew it, you were too focused on your schemes to spend time nursing your pining heart. 

When you did meet up with him on the occasion you were both free, he’d always tell you to do something with your life. He’d tell you to join him. He knew how strong you were, how smart you were, how driven you were. But he didn’t know that you’d already used those gifts to force every business and every back alley, every port and every parlor, into submission. Japan was a puppet and you were its master.

But every villain had their weakness, and it became harder and harder to ignore that he was yours. Looking back, you’d always had a soft spot for him. 

When you were kids, someone made fun of Soshiro’s hair and you shaved half their head off in return. 

When you were teens, he caught some teenager stealing from an old lady and when he ran after them to retrieve her purse, like the kind-hearted boy that he was, they punched him in the face. Before he could react, you broke their arm, like the cruel-hearted girl that you were. 

And it didn’t matter how old or young your opponent was- you were undaunted and unwavering in your punishments. Once, a teacher had failed Soshiro due to a personal grudge they’d held against his father, and you took a sledgehammer to their car. When the teacher threatened to involve the authorities, you simply smiled at him and dared him to call the cops, saying that the second you saw a siren, you’d release photos of his infidelity to the entire country of Japan. 

Even now, with all the power that you wielded, you’d use your influence to anonymously send supplies to the Third Division, to send food, to send weapons, to send armor. If you couldn’t be by his side, you could at least support him from afar. He didn’t have to know, he just had to stay safe.

When he messaged you, wanting to meet up again, you felt this was the perfect opportunity to make sure he’d been getting your gifts. You treated him to dinner at your favorite restaurant.

“How’s my favorite little entrepreneur?” He scooped you up in a hug. 

You slightly winced, remembering the lie you’d told him about opening up your own shop to get him to stop trying to convince you to join the Defense Force. You comforted yourself with the thought that, technically, you owned lots of shops. If lots of shops meant the entirety of Japan. You bet you could even buy the JAKDF if you ever felt the desire to. It was a tempting thought now that you were faced with one of their most promising soldiers, and if buying the JAKDF meant more time with him, you’d have to look into it. You’d forgotten how much you missed him. How soft you got when he was around. 

“I’m better now that you’re here.” You sighed into his shoulder.

He laughed. “Buttering me up, huh? Don’t tell me it’s cuz you’re tryna convince me to change jobs again.”

You pouted. “And what if I was?”

He ruffled your hair. “Then you’d have a hell of a time with it, because you know I’m not leaving the Defense Force.”

You crossed your arms and sulked. “You mean the shitty Defense Force that’s making you fight with nothing more than sticks and stones?”

He leaned forward, “Actually, we got this huge shipment the other day of brand new equipment. The very latest in Izumo tech. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that,” He tucked a hair behind your ear, “Would you?”

How was it that you owned thousands of casinos and still couldn’t manage a poker face to save your life?

He laughed, letting you off the hook for now. “Shall we order dinner?”

You grumbled to yourself about him being a tease and then buried your face in the menu. He smiled to himself on his side of the table. 

When you had a couple more drinks in you, he pushed the subject again. “So. It seems you got my text the other day.”

You took another sip from your cup. “Which text? You text me a lot.”

He grinned. “Touche. The one about my suit overheating.”

You raised an eyebrow, unsure where he was going with this. “Yeah, I read that. What of it?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh nothing. I’m just assuming that’s why I got a new suit delivered to me the very same day, one that can withstand my combat power for longer periods of time.”

You choked on your drink. “Well that’s convenient, good for you.”

He laughed. “Cmon. How long are we going to keep doing this?”

You cleared your throat. “Doing what?”

He poked your nose. “Pretending like you’re not the one sending me these things.”

You laughed awkwardly. “I’m not so rich that I can get my hands on the latest Izumo tech, Soshiro. You overestimate me.”

“Mmhm. Sure. Okay. Well, if you ever find out who is leaving me all these gifts, thank them for me, yeah?” He finished his food and got up to leave, “And give them a big kiss for me, would you?” He smirked as he walked out the door. 

What?

What did he just say?

Bastard.

“Soshiro! You asshole, you can’t just leave me hanging like that!” You dumped a couple large bills on the table, not even caring that you’d just tipped more than the meal was worth, and you ran after him.

He was laughing to himself down the street when you finally caught up to him. “So I guess business is doing good then?”

You glared at him. “And so maybe it is. What, I’m not allowed to send my best friend presents?”

He smirked. “Ah, so you admit you’re my secret admirer.” He bent down to whisper in your ear, “Or do you just want that kiss that badly?”

Before you could answer (you’re not even sure what you would’ve answered), he pulls you against him and presses his lips to yours. 

After completely devouring all your oxygen, he pulls away and murmurs, “Thanks. For everything.”

You’re so breathless you think you might choke on your own lungs.

When he takes your hand and whispers in your ear, “Now it’s my turn to treat you,” and then leads you to a ballroom that he’d completely bought out just so he could slow dance with you, you think you might cough up the heart that’s beating so rapidly in your chest. 

But of all the ways to die, you’ve decided this is the best way to go- in Soshiro’s arms.

[blackleatherjacketz]

Shadow and Sin: Chapter 8

Elijah Mikaelson, Klaus Mikaelson x Female Reader

Summary: Having just recently moved to New Orleans, you get intimately acquainted with both Mikaelson brothers and don't find out who they are until it's too late.

This Chapter: Elijah gets answers about the attack while Klaus confronts you about playing hot and cold.

Warnings: Sexual References, Love Triangle, Infidelity (kind of), Lying, Manipulating, Love Bombing, Stalking, Alcohol, Face-Grabbing, Violence

Word Count: 2.6k+

Read the rest of the story HERE

Niklaus had always been cruel, ruthless and rash; often leaping before he looked, especially when it came to his own aspirations for accumulating power. Elijah had reluctantly grown accustomed to it over the centuries, always expecting a certain medieval level of mayhem, but being careless enough to put your life at risk was something he couldn’t allow to happen again. He knew that if he wanted answers and solutions, he had to approach his brother with caution, careful not to tip his hand too much toward his hidden truth.

“You know, I was beginning to worry when I didn’t hear you come in last night.” Niklaus feigns a tone of concern as he hears his brother’s footsteps echo against the walls of the courtyard, keeping his back to him as he pours two glasses of whiskey from the decanter. “I wonder what could have kept you burning that midnight oil for so long.”

Oh god, he knows… but maybe not.

“If you must know, I was busy cleaning up one of your messes in the quarter.” Elijah unbuttons his suit jacket as he approaches his brother from behind, trying to sound more annoyed than worried.

If he lets slip, even for a second, that he might have the inkling of a paramour, Niklaus would surely make it his business to find you and rip you to shreds right in front of him. He’s done it dozens of times to Rebekah’s lovers over the centuries, and to the very few women that Elijah has chosen to love by the light of day. The curse of his brother’s rage has bound Elijah to a life of secrecy when it comes to his romantic endeavors, dwindling them down to very few candidates and then eventually… to nothing.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be a little more specific than that.” Niklaus turns around and hands him one of the glasses, a cunning smirk curling at his lips. “Getting the vampires of the city to clean up the streets after Marcel’s reign has turned into quite the tedious endeavor.”

“Niklaus, I do hope that you show a little more decorum when trying to control the human faction and their justice system in the future.” He quickly takes the glass from him and looks into his brother’s eyes, searching for any hint of remorse while finding none. “The whole point of intimidation is to keep them alive and… intimidated. The last thing we need is to draw attention from the authorities to a dead lawyer and his companion. He isn’t just some idle tourist.”

“Well, it’s hardly my fault that he wasn’t willing to comply with our long standing agreement, now is it?” He takes a sip of his whiskey and leans back against the bar, wondering why his brother is so bent out of shape over some measly lawyer’s life. He could easily be replaced by the next zombie in a suit to graduate from Tulane University, or anywhere else, really. “I simply told Isaac to make him forget my name and his curiosity about our family. Who am I to micromanage his methods of ensuring that result?”

So he DID give the order.

“So you condone this behavior in Marcel’s… in your new lackeys?” Elijah takes a breath, pointing a finger at him while the others grip his glass. “Compliance at any cost?”

“Why? Did the poor, insufferable attorney meet an unfortunate end?” Niklaus grins so wide that it wrinkles the skin around his ice cold eyes, making him look more mad than ever.

“Not quite. If I hadn’t intervened, he and the girl may very well have.” He takes a slow sip, waiting to see how his brother will react to the news of an innocent bystander getting in the way.

“Oh Elijah, always the hero, aren’t we?” Niklaus downs the rest of his drink and slams it loudly onto the bar, those chilling eyes now fixated on his brother’s expression. “What girl?”

Elijah utters a low growl of irritation to disguise just how grateful he is for the obvious confirmation that Austin was his only intended target. Niklaus appears not to have any idea that you’d be with him when he ordered the attack, the truth written plain as day across his face.

At least there’s that.

“It doesn’t matter.” He lies with a clench of his jaw, forcing himself to take another sip of the whiskey in an attempt to hide his face from his sibling. “I compelled them both to make sure they won’t be a problem in the future.” He hopes his embellishment is simple enough, even if the truth only applies to him grabbing hold of your brother and telling him to run home as fast as he could. “To keep our alliance with that faction strong.”

“Oh? And what of dear Isaac and good ole ‘what’s his name’? Is that their blood that’s ruined your precious Versace suit, brother?” He looks him over and grabs onto Elijah’s sleeve, noticing how completely stained it is with blood before bringing it up for both of them to see. “You fed someone?”

Memories of last night push themselves ahead of Elijah’s need for self preservation, the image of your face in his hands, illuminated by precious moonlight lingering in his imagination as Niklaus’ grip tightens around his wrist. He hadn’t anticipated things to escalate so quickly with you, but there was dried blood in your hair that needed washing, and only he could be sure to get all of it out for you.

How could he have known that you would offer to wash the blood off his body in return, inviting him into the warm mist of the shower along with you? How could he have predicted how perfect you’d feel in his arms, the euphoric sensation of your bare skin beneath his fingertips or your heart beating wildly against his? Water had never felt so good as it washed all the blood off your bodies, merging you two together in a blissful baptism of blood and sweat before it all washed away in a chorus of muffled moans. He never thought you’d open up to him so quickly, letting him rest beside you in your bed once you were both cleansed of the night’s horrors, but he certainly wasn’t complaining.

“Who was it?” Niklaus brings Elijah’s wrist closer to his face, nostrils flaring as he inhales the unique scent that you’d left on his sleeve as you fed, his pupils dilating before his irises glow a bright, infernal yellow.

He has to bury that thought, quickly.

“I ripped the hearts from your inept henchmen’s chests before they nearly killed the girl.” Elijah rips his arm from his brother’s grasp, his eyes narrowing as that fiery hue leaves the hybrid’s gaze. “I suggest you reel the rest of them in before things get too messy and we have to flee the city once more.”

—————————

The next few days were a hazy blur for you, trying to get ahold of your brother only to find out that you’d shattered the screen on your phone into a hundred pieces during the attack in the alley. You decided that you’d go and check on him after your slew of shifts at the hospital, counting down the hours as they passed while your patients slept surprisingly peacefully in their rooms.

After making your midnight rounds, you notice a new piece of artwork hanging at the end of the hall, the abstract painting bringing back all those deliciously heated feelings you have buried deep inside you reserved especially for Klaus. You approach it slowly, thinking that you might have lost your mind from all the trauma and sleep deprivation, but no, you’re sure of it; it’s definitely the painting that you and Klaus did together.

“You haven’t been returning my calls.” That sweet melody of his accent tightens the muscles in your abdomen, reminding you of the ache he once caused between your thighs. “If I were a weaker man, I might take offense to something like that, but luckily for you I’m very secure in my manhood.” His smile is laced with venom as he confidently takes the corner toward you.

“Klaus.” His name feels like a curse on your tongue as he catches you by surprise, that slow smirk spreading across his sinfully handsome face. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought you’d be happier to see me.” He postures with his arms spread wide, his wingspan more than impressive. “I’m delighted to see you.”

“Look, I’m sorry, but my phone literally shattered to pieces the other day, and I just haven’t had time to go get it fixed.” You pull it out of your pocket to show him, knowing that he’d want physical proof. “And I’m at work, you can’t just… show up randomly and hang our painting for everyone here to see!” You lower your voice and look around the unit, realizing that there’s no one else around to hear you.

“Oh, I assure you, I can. I had hoped that you’d come by to see it in person, maybe even paint another one with me, but I understand that you’re busy with this little hobby of yours. This way you can always see our masterpiece and think of our time together, even when you’re here fighting the good fight against the inevitable clutches of death.” He smugly glances over at the crash cart before taking the stethoscope off your neck and putting it into his ears, pressing the bell against your chest. “My, your heart is racing!”

“Give me that!” You rip it off him, hurriedly placing it back onto your shoulders. “And that’s not fair. I wanted to come back, I was going to come and see it… eventually.”

How can you tell him that you’ve spent the last few nights with Elijah stroking your hair until you fall asleep? That a vampire who rips hearts out of people’s chests is able to make you feel safe and cared for?

“Eventually? Well, why the delay, love? Was it something I said? Something I did?” He smirks with a tilt of his head, his voice salacious and low. “After a night like that, I thought you’d be begging for more.”

“My brother and I,” you start shakily, “We were attacked a few nights ago, and I’m still a bit shaken up about it. So I’ve been picking up extra shifts here to stay out of trouble.”

“Attacked?” He exaggerates his feigned surprise with a raise of his eyebrow as he starts stepping toward you. “You and your brother, is it?” His tone lightens as he recognizes your familial bond with the man he ordered his men to silence, relieved that it isn't a romantic one.

“Yes.” Your legs instinctively move backwards in a mirrored motion with each stride that he takes, the heat between you building more than ever. “That’s what I said.”

“Attacked by what, exactly?” He pries further with that velvety voice of his. “A witch? A werewolf? A vampire?” He continues to advance on you, only stopping as your back hits the wall, forcing a tiny gasp out of you.

“A vampire,” you whisper, looking up into his darkening eyes as you feel his hand on your hip, pushing you against the wall a little too roughly. “You knew they were real this whole time, didn’t you?”

“Knew about them?” He smirks, seeming completely unphased by the conversation. “Love, I am one of them, have been for over a thousand years now.”

“A thousand years?” You ask, trying to ignore the stirring heat that burns bright inside your core. You wish that the time you’d spent with Elijah could wash away the feelings you have for Klaus, that his heroic actions would cancel out the obsessive pull you feel whenever you draw the same breath as him. But you can’t fight it, no matter how hard you try, and you absolutely hate yourself for it. You welcome the idea of blaming your desire for him on his supernatural powers of seduction, but part of you is afraid that it’s something more, something deeper than that. “But I’ve seen you in the daytime, I’ve watched you drink alcohol and coffee. I’ve seen your reflection in the mirror before.”

“I know it’s a hard pill to swallow, sweetheart, that you’ve been trying to convince yourself that the stories couldn’t possibly be true, but it happens to everyone before the veil is finally lifted. I knew you’d be able to handle it better than anyone else, and I can see that you’ve finally surrendered yourself over to it. So why don’t you tell me more about what happened that night? About what convinced you to embrace the truth?”

Damn, he’s good.

“We were attacked by two vampires after dinner and drinks.” It sounds so stupid when you say it out loud, but after everything you’ve seen, you can’t deny it anymore. Klaus may be bold and out of line, but he’s right. You’re done fighting your logical subconscious over what folklore can easily explain. “One of them bit me.”

“Mmmm, really?” He hums a tune of concern, grabbing onto your neck with his free hand and cautiously looking you over. “That’s funny, I don’t see any bruises or marks.”

“Another vampire came in and saved us, he gave me his blood.” You try to keep your story simple, careful not to use Elijah’s name or seem too familiar with him, lest you get found out. “He said it would heal me.”

“Did he, now?” His lips seem to take on that hypnotic quality as his voice drops down to a dangerous whisper, tempting you to lean in and kiss him. “And how did that make you feel, hmmm? Swallowing another man’s blood as it dripped down that throat of yours?”

“I was dying in an alleyway, Klaus.” You cut him off sharply, letting your anger finally break the spell of his seduction. “Where the fuck were you?” You attempt to push him off you with a huff before he grabs onto your wrists, quickly pinning them above your head with one hand.

“You don’t think I wanted to be there?! If I had known that you were in danger?” He raises his voice, despite his close proximity. “You don’t think that I would have protected you at any cost? I’m here now to make sure you’re alright!”

“Yeah, because you’ve been doing such a stellar job of protecting me so far.” You roll your eyes as you try to break out of his grasp, failing miserably as he slams your wrists back harder against the wall. He looks at you as if he knows it will only excite you more, his scent surrounding you completely as his hips dig into your belly, triggering your hormones into overdrive.

“You think that I’m here just for some frivolous tryst?” His full lips desperately ghost over yours, wiping away all thoughts of Elijah entirely. “That I share my secrets of immortality to just anyone? I mean to protect you, to guide you, to please you. I want to embrace all the darkest parts of yourself that you haven’t even discovered yet, to spend an eternity painting portraits of you throughout the ages, your cheeks freshly red from the dozens of orgasms I’ve just given you as you lay in sheets of rich opulence.” He cups your cheek, his hand nearly trembling as his eyes finally glisten with remorse. “Please, just let me prove it to you, and then my brother won’t have to save you next time.”

Your heart drops into the bitter acid of your stomach. “Your brother?”

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

Tags: @hcqwxrtss123 @hayleym1234 @derangedangel

[spnscripthunt-inactive]

Deadline’s Read the Screenplay series spotlighting the year’s most talked-about scripts continues with Nimona, Netflix‘s animated feature based on ND Stevenson’s 2015 National Book Award-nominated graphic novel about finding friendship in the most surprising situations and accepting yourself and others for who they are.

Nick Bruno and Troy Quane (co-directors of Spies In Disguise) directed the film, which was adapted by Big Hero 6 scribe Robert L. Baird and Spies co-writer Lloyd Taylor and features the voices of Riz Ahmed and Chloë Grace Moretz in the lead roles. Frances Conroy, Lorraine Toussaint, RuPaul Charles, Eugene Lee Yang, Indya Moore, Sarah Sherman and Beck Bennett also have voice roles.

A family-focused film with authentic queer themes set in a vibrant techno-medieval world (credit to teams at Blue Sky Studios and DNEG Animation), the plot centers on Ballister Boldheart (Ahmed), a knight in a futuristic medieval world, who is framed for a crime he didn’t commit. The only one who can help him prove his innocence is Nimona (Moretz), a mischievous teen with a taste for mayhem — who also happens to be a shapeshifting creature Ballister has been trained to destroy.

Baird and Taylor said their main challenge in the adaptation was to stay true to Stevenson’s story while morphing it from the episodic form of the novel to a feature-length narrative – in itself a process of shapeshifting that mirrors one of the novel’s core themes.

Nimona, which was just nominated for Best Animated Film at the Critics Choice Awards, had a long path to travel to get to its world premiere at the Annecy Animation Festival in June, followed by a theatrical run ahead of its release on Netflix on June 30.

Then-20th Century Fox’s Blue Sky originally optioned Stevenson’s novel the year it was published, and the project moved forward despite the Disney-Fox merger and then the pandemic. But it almost didn’t survive a third blow: Disney shuttered Blue Sky in April 2021, halting Nimona mid-production.

Blue Sky principals Baird and Andrew Millstein kept pushing on the the project however and eventually found a partner in Annapurna’s Megan Ellison, who sparked to its themes. Baird and Millstein became EPs and created Shapeshifter Films to complete the movie, which then landed at Netflix. The pair have since joined Ellison at her company, forming Annapurna Animation.

Click here to read the script.

[the-old-mayhem]

"He wished to have an 'Iron Maiden' on the stage, a medieval torture instrument that had already been used, with dried blood on the tips. And he wished he had a rack to strap himself to during the shows so that they could have real screams of pain. "You know," he said, smiling, "I just love all that horror stuff!"

He wanted to break taboos, provoke, and said that if he ever performed with Mayhem in India, he wanted to slaughter a cow on stage and see how people reacted. And then he'd happily have a few black cats hung upside down by their tails, still alive. He would cut open their stomachs and take out their intestines. Now I had to stop him, because I had a black cat at home that I loved very much. I said it was animal cruelty. But he didn't care, he replied that he hated cats and would prefer to see them all dead. But he said that with a mischievous smile, so I don't think he meant it. He probably knew himself that the first cat would rip off the skin from his thin arm." - Abo Alsleben (Mayhem- Live in Leipzig. Wie ich den Black Metal nach Ostdeutschland brachte) 🦇

@the.old.mayhem on instagram

[the-outer-topic]

Warhammer - Bretonia

[symboslug]

Medieval au fic(s)

Since I "came up" with medieval au, I knew I wanted to write something for it. I'm not so good in writing long stories, so I have a collection of bit size fics instead. I only shared it with my mutuals on Instagram and I think blog post is a great way to share them all (for now).

Confessions - both Tyler and narrator sharing their feelings about eachother

Guilt - narrator’s religious guilt

A mission- Tyler and narrator causing mayhem, narrator finds out Tyler is actually a demon

Untitled- narrator talking about his father

So yeah. Fight club cleric×demon au

[convex-solos]

some pondering on seravex fein with heli and vio :) so i took it as an opportunity to design him as well as changing my convex vex designs :D

we also had lots of fun brainstorming abt medieval mayhem in twitch rivals (when cub, fein, couri and false played together !!) can u tell we love royalty aus

[docgold13]

Heroes & Villains The DC Animated Universe - Paper Cut-Out Portraits and Profiles

Morgaine le Fey 

A powerful and evil sorceress hailing from mythical era of medieval Brittany, Morgaine le Fey was the half-sister of King Arthur and one time student of Merlin. Twisted by power and ambition, Morgaine's singular goal was to put her son Mordred on the throne of Camelot (and by extension, the world).  This was a quest that she worked ceaselessly toward for centuries to fulfill.  Her magic has maintained her youth over the years, although she frequently needs to siphon the life essence from victims so to stave off old age.  She always keeps her face hidden behind a golden mask, unwilling to let anyone see her great beauty marred by time.

Morgan and her son re-emerged in the modern era in search of the legendary artifact known as the Philosopher's Stone.  Morgaine believed that this stone, cleverly hidden by Merlin for centuries, would enable her to fulfill her quest on seat her son as ruler of the world.  Her efforts to obtain the stone were combated by the combined efforts of the Justice League and Etrigan the Demon.  Morgaine attempted to entrance J’onn J’onzz, temping him with convincing illusions of his lost wife and children, manipulating the Martian so that he would hand over the stone.  Yet J’onn was ultimately able to resist and her crushed the Philosopher's Stone, dashing Morgaine’s plans and leading her abscond away.  

Morgaine would return to once more bedevil the League, although this time she was betrayed by her son Mordred.  She was forced to join forces with the Justice League so to undo the mayhem her son had sewn.  

Actress Olivia D'Abo provided the voice for Morgaine le Fey with he sinister sorceress first appearing in the twentieth episodes of the first season of Justice League, ‘A Knight of Shadows.’  

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 19

An update in less than a month? What is this?

This is the long anticipated update and I'm so excited to share it with you. Please let me know what you guys think!

Words: 5500

Warnings: All the feels! brief violence, language, just grab some tissues.

Series Masterlist

Ivar loathed all hospitals with an unholy passion. Far too much of his childhood was spent surrounded by sterile white walls and people in scrubs giving him pitying looks that boiled his blood. He hated the continuous beeping sounds, that unnatural sterile scent, even the loud-ass flooring that made each step sound like a heavy weight being dropped.  He despised everything about hospitals. 

But none of that crossed his mind as he stormed into the main lobby of one with the force of an unrelenting tornado. 

He slammed his hand down on the counter, feeling his bones rattle and threaten to break but he ignored the pain. He already had one hand in a cast, why not the other? 

“Where is Kari Larsen?” He demanded of the two nurses behind the counter. 

Neither nurse berated him of how he cut in line, bypassing the four other people, to demand their attention. A fucking miracle. As he stood there, waves of anger and desperation crashing over him, he wondered if they could see it and it kept their mouths shut. Was it so obvious how his edges were fraying? How what sanity he possessed was beginning to crumble until he knew - he could see - that Kari was alive. 

One of them glanced over his shoulder, at his father and brother flanking him, and waved him closer. “Give me a moment and I'll check.”

The desire to scream at her to ‘hurry the fuck up’, ‘didn't she know who he was’, and how he wanted to ‘burn this entire building to the ground’ stung the back of his throat. But none of that passed his lips. For immobilizing terror gripped at his heart with claws sunk in deep, making that blackened organ threaten to stutter to a stop. How his lungs ached as if petrifying within his chest causing each breath to be a struggle to take in. 

He had promised her. 

He fucking PROMISED! 

Uncaring of his hardened reputation, of never showing pain, he dropped his head in his hands, the cast rubbing against his cheek. He tried to take a deep breath, but the panic and self-loathing continued to crush his chest like a Medieval torture device. He just needed to know…he needed to see her. 

Please…

The nurse's ‘customer' voice broke through his internal panic. “Miss Larsen is still in the emergency room but has been moved to a separate room for examination.”

Ivar moved before the nurse fully finished her sentence. Ignoring all those around him, he stormed through that hospital with only one destination in mind. At this point, he almost wished someone would try to stop him so he could hit someone, just do something instead of feeling like he was falling apart. Anger, he knew. Anger, he could work with. But not this terror, not this panic that was draining his sanity and attempting to suffocate him. 

Perhaps, it was the scowl on his face that made people jump out of his way, the aura of danger that radiated off of him, or how he was flanked by his father and brother. With only a few concerned stares from nurses or those that worked there, he guessed they recognized him and his family. He had visited this godforsaken place enough times. Besides, he was a Lothbrok. 

And Lothbroks owned this city. 

Hvitserk raced ahead to open the doors leading into the emergency area, separate from the main hospital. They passed through without incident, into the chaos and mayhem. Sounds of a baby screaming, raised voices, the tang of blood and antiseptic cleaner, it all assaulted his senses but it barely phased him. There was only one thing he cared about right now. 

Marching up to the large desk, he stopped, glaring at the first nurse he came across. Her gray hair was tied back in a bun, with a ‘don't give a fuck anymore’ look as she typed away on the computer. 

Too bad she had met her match today. 

“Kari Larsen. Where is she?” He gritted through his teeth. 

The older nurse sighed, looking up at him. “Young man, you need to wait–”

“WHERE IS SHE??!”

Silence echoed in the room. The sudden lack of sound felt like a black hole that suddenly exploded to destroy them all. All eyes turned to the trio at the front desk.

His father put a hand on Ivar's shoulder as he stepped up beside him. Most likely intervening before Ivar jumped over the counter and repeatedly stabbed the ugly bitch with that damn pen she kept clicking. 

“We received a call from this hospital that Kari Larsen was here. We've come to check on her and I am personally paying for any treatment she receives while here.”

“Fine. Your name, sir?”

“Ragnar Lothbrok.” He smirked lazily. “My information is on file. Send the bill to Mr Weber, the CFO. He knows how to contact me with any further questions.”

The five other nurses behind the desk all stared, one or two having paled at the name of Lothbrok spoken. The older nurse before them began to stutter out a response, her eyes having widened and mouth dropped open, like an wrinkly goldfish. 

“Now, you will answer my son's question.” His father's voice hardened in displeasure. “In which room is Kari Larsen?”

“I…um…” One of the nurses stumbled out, clasping a blue patient folder to her chest like it was some shield to protect her from the Lothbrok's wrath. “I brought her for a CT scan…just…fifteen minutes ago, maybe.”

“Excellent, now–” Ragnar started to say but a rasped cry yanked the youngest Lothbrok's attention away. 

“Ivar!”

He spun on his heel, facing the hallway just behind him and slightly to his right. All his fear, panic, anger, self-loathing- it all bubbled up to spectacularly erupt as he heard that voice call his name. Her voice! A voice even after three weeks without hearing its sound, he immediately knew. The voice his soul cried out for. 

And there she was. 

Beautiful…

Perfect…

….with dried blood on the side of her head and splattered on her sweater. 

“Kari!” As quickly as his crippled legs could go, he bolted towards her. 

At his responding cry, she broke away from the nurse walking next to her. The damn nurse tried to grab her, but Kari shook her hand off and began running. 

Running to him! 

With tears running down her cheeks. 

She slammed into him, almost knocking them over with her momentum. Ivar stumbled back a couple steps, barely catching his footing, but he did not care. She was in his arms. Where she should be. Where she was meant to be. Finally. 

As soon as she was enclosed in his arms, face pressed against his chest and hands fisting the front of his shirt, she began sobbing earnestly. He tightened his arms around her, drawing her as physically possible against himself as her whole body shook with each ragged sob. 

Hearing her, he wished he could carve his chest open and allow her to crawl in. Fuck, he would do anything to take her pain, to have her even closer, to prove he was never letting her go again. 

That he would always protect her. 

“I've got you, Kari. I'm here.” The words flowed from him like an anguished prayer. “I'm here, sweet Kari. I'm not going anywhere.”

The scent of blood clung to her but he ignored it for the moment. She was here in his arms. Alive and well. 

That was all that mattered. 

He could have stood there for all eternity, the world continuing to spin and empires rising and falling without an ounce of care from him. None of it mattered. Three weeks he had been in turmoil and despair, waiting, wondering, hoping for a sign from her. Anything to prove she still cared about him, still wanted him. That he had not completely fucked up the best thing in his life with a stupid mistake. He planned on planting roots right here on the dirty hospital floor for as long as Kari needed him. The fucking nurses and other patients could move around his crippled ass. 

His father had other plans though. 

A tap on his shoulder had Ivar looking up into his father's face, a subtle look of relief there.  “There's a room for her. Let's move her there.”

He gave a brief nod. With the movement, he became aware of the moisture on his face. When had he started crying? He had been so absorbed in finally - finally! - seeing his kitten, in holding her and providing any kind of comfort she needed, he had not realized his own roiling emotions had exploded out in tears of relief and gratitude, that he was practically bleeding out his stress and harbored despair. And for one of the first times in his life, he did not care if others saw his tears. 

Somehow he coaxed Kari along as he followed his father. A strange dance as they moved since she seemed to have no inclination of letting him go. Not that he objected in any way. It was in moments like this he cursed his legs, for if he was whole-bodied he could have picked Kari up and carried her. Instead, with an arm tight around her shoulders and her pressed against his side, refusing to release her vice-like grip on his shirt, they slowly moved. 

The ‘room’ they were directed to was just a curtained off section with a single bed, single chair and some monitors pressed against the wall behind the bed. Similar to the many other sectioned off ‘rooms’ of patients waiting to be moved on or sent home. 

Carefully, Ivar maneuvered Kari and himself to sit on the hospital bed. She curled against him, her ear against his heart and one hand toying with his Mjölnir necklace. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her against him. His other hand's fingers were intertwined with hers in his lap. 

Like sentinels, his father sat in the chair, sharp gaze shifting from the closed curtain to his youngest son, while his brother took up position next to their father, arms crossed over his chest. The two began whispering but Ivar only briefly noted their presence.

His attention was drawn to Kari as she whispered something. 

“What was that, kattungen?”

“You came.” She breathed, her voice raspy and shaky as if holding back more tears. “I gave them your number. I–I wasn't sure if you'd come. I just...I was scared and wanted you.”

How was it possible with such a simple statement, it completely disarmed him. His heart lurched at hearing the undercurrent of fear in her voice, sounding like a child admitting they were scared of the dark. What was worse, what broke his heart, was her fear that he would not come. That he would abandon her. 

He pressed his lips to the top of her head in a slow syrup-like kiss, hoping his actions and words would penetrate through her worry. “I'll always come for you.”

“Please don't leave.”

He tipped his head up for a moment, a useless act to try and stop the fresh wave of tears from flowing freely down his cheeks. “I promise.” His voice broke as he answered. “I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave you.”

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” She sobbed out, clinging to him even tighter if possible. 

“Shhh…it's okay. Let's focus on getting you out of here, okay?”

She nodded, a faint thing, but he felt it for how tightly she was pressed against him. 

A couple minutes later, a doctor stepped behind the curtain, joining the crowded space. He paused a moment, seeing to register the group along with his patient. He cleared his throat loudly before glancing down at the folder in hand. 

“Good day, I'm Doctor Schultz, the attending doctor here today. Miss Larsen?” The doctor paused, eyes focused on his patient. 

When she did not respond, Ivar squeezed her hand. “It's okay, søte Kari, I'm here.”

“Yes, doctor?” She quietly, hesitantly, said. 

“How are you feeling?”

With that fucking stupid question, Ivar wanted to punch the absolute, incompetent asshole of a doctor but settled for glaring at him over Kari's head. 

“I've been better.” She replied. 

The doctor smiled. “I'm sure. The good news is your scans came back clean. You do not appear to have any cranial or brain damage more than a concussion.” He hesitated, as if rolling around a question in his mind before carefully allowing it out. “Is there anywhere else that hurts? My understanding is the paramedics said you were initially screaming when they arrived on scene.”

“Doctor, can you explain what occurred? We were not told about the incident beyond the fact that she was being attended to at this hospital.” Ragnar broke in, his voice broking no argument that his question would be answered first. 

“Of course. Miss Larsen and a companion were involved in a car accident. It appears another driver was not paying attention and drove through a red light, impacting their vehicle.”

A car accident.  

A goddamn car accident. 

Inhaling sharply, Ivar felt the air stick to his lungs like glue. Mentally he thanked the gods, Fate and anyone listening for keeping Kari safe. The outcome could have been very different. 

“Is Erik okay?” The quiet query came from beside Ivar.  

“I'm not supposed to speak of other patients,” the doctor said but his face softened as he looked at Kari, “but I just saw him and he sustained more injuries than you. He likely will be walking out of here later today.”

“Erik?” Ivar asked his kitten. 

“My neighbor. He was driving us to the grocery store.”

Erik. Fucking Erik. Ivar did not like the overly friendly neighbor, the twat was trying to encroach on HIS territory. Now hearing this, he hated the man even more. The accident may not have been entirely his fault, but Kari was injured and traumatized while in his presence. That was unforgivable. 

“Miss Larsen, is there anywhere that hurts? You were fairly nonverbal when you arrived.”

“My…my shoulder…and my neck.”

“May I take a look?”

Ivar loathed to separate from her, but he removed his arm from behind her so the doctor would examine her. Damn, if he was going to move though. Plus with the way Kari did not release his hand, he doubted she wanted him further away. 

The doctor opened his mouth, but at the look that promised death on Ivar's face, he wisely did not ask Ivar to move. 

“Hmm.” The doctor hummed as he looked at Kari's neck and ran a hand along the slender column. Gently, he tugged the neckline of her sweater to see better after touching it and asking if his touch caused pain.  

Ivar gritted his teeth, as he glared with disdain at the invasive doctor. He was ready to intervene any moment the doctor went too far in his opinion but a purposeful squeeze from Kari's hand brought him back down. To distract them both, he brought their entwined fingers to his mouth. Teasingly, he kissed each of her knuckles as he held eye contact and gave a cheeky wink. His heart soared as a faint blush warmed her cheeks and a small, shy smile turned the corners of her lips up.

“Well, Miss Larsen,” the doctor stepped back and scribbled on his chart, “I do not see anything too concerning. I suspect the pain is from whiplash and the seat belt tightening. I can already see some bruising beginning on your shoulder, which may worsen. Unless the pain dramatically increases, you will be fine. You will be sore for a few days. My suggestion is to take some over the counter pain meds and rest for the next several days. If the pain worsens, either in your body or your head, come back to the ER. Any increasing headaches, double vision, spots in your vision, fainting, anything along those lines, please return and we will check on your concussion again. Before I release you, do you have anywhere to stay that someone can watch over you?”

“She's staying with me.”

Both the doctor's and Kari's gazes swung back to him but he only stared resolute at the man that needed to hurry the fuck up. 

“Alright…Miss, are you agreeable to that?” 

She nodded silently. 

“Good. One final question, the paramedics were quite concerned about your hysterics. They made note that you only seemed to calm once they helped you out of the vehicle and even then you were silent and unresponsive for a period of time. Do you remember any of this?”

“Yes.” She croaked out, a violent shiver shaking her fragile form. 

“Can you explain what happened?”

“Is this fucking necessary?” Ivar seethed, curling his arm protectively around her and tugging her back into his side. 

“I would like to follow through with–”

Ragnar stood up, blue eyes hard as ice as he stared down the doctor. “Thank you for your time and follow through. If you can finalize the release paperwork, we will be on our way and allow you to move on with your many other patients.”

Bewildered gaze swinging to every person in the room, as if silently questioning Ragnar's subtle rebuke, the doctor sharply exhaled and stepped back to the closed curtain. “I will send a nurse in to provide the paperwork.”

With that the intrusive doctor swung open the curtain and strutted away. 

Once out of sight, Ivar mumbled, “thought he'd never fucking shut up.”

“Be nice.” Kari murmured without any heat in it, more as if it was a reflex. 

Ragnar stepped around the bed and began rustling through the small rolling cart beside the bed. He came back around with an antiseptic wipe. Ivar watched as his father ripped it open and then delicately wiped away the lingering blood on her temple and ear, with far more physical tenderness than he had ever shown his sons. Kari hissed at the initial contact but did not pull away, closing her eyes and slowly taking deep breaths. 

Once cleaned to his satisfaction, Ragnar tossed the wipe into the nearby bin. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair as if steeling himself for something. Ivar glanced over at his brother, who just shrugged, his own gaze focused on their father. 

Ragnar crouched down, bringing himself eye level with Kari instead of standing over her like he had done. “Kari, do you want to leave?” He asked softly. 

What kind of dumbass question was that? Ivar opened his mouth to intervene but a cutting look from Ragnar had him almost biting through his tongue to keep quiet. 

“Yes.” She rasped back. 

“Mmm…” Ragnar nodded. “I need you to look at me, yeah? Good girl. Will you be comfortable riding in a car after this?”

Kari tensed and Ivar wanted to bash his own head against the nearest wall. Of fucking course! Why had he not thought of that yet? 

“I–I don't know…I'm sorry.”

“No, Kari. Don't be sorry.” Ivar pressed his forehead to her uninjured temple. “We'll figure something out. It's not your fault.”

Ragnar spoke again, all soft edges and thoughtfulness. “Driving Ivar's car back would be the easiest and fastest. If you are uncomfortable with that, we can find an alternative mode of transportation or we can ask a nurse to mildly sedate you.”

With a tremor in her voice, she stated, “I can try. I think I can do it. Just…could you maybe drive slow?” 

Ivar smiled as he pressed a kiss to her temple, a silent encouragement, astounded by her quiet bravery. 

“I'm certain we can manage that.” Ragnar grunted, amusement in the quirk of his lips. “One last question.”

She nodded hesitantly. 

“I need to know, if while we are driving, will you start screaming?” 

This time she answered shakily. “No.”

“Do you recall why you were screaming at the accident?”

“Father.” Ivar growled, disliking this turn of questioning. 

“I need to know for our safety.” He returned his sharp gaze back to Kari, but did soften his voice.“Do you remember?”

“Memories.”

“Memories?” Ragnar repeated. 

She hummed. 

“Were you in a car accident recently?”

“No…”

“That's enough.” Ivar snarled, tugging her closer into his side, as her quivering began anew. Whether it was those memories or fear that caused her bodily reaction, he refused to let his father bully her into an answer. He had promised to protect her…even if it was from his father's interrogation. 

Icy blue eyes shifted from his youngest to the trembling, young woman in his arms before nodding and rising back to his feet. “I'll be back.” He swept out of the small room, the curtain fluttering closed behind him. 

“I'm sorry.” She whispered, just before pressing a hand to her mouth and releasing a shaky sob. 

Ivar held her close, sheltering her from her own turbulent emotions, as she tucked her face against him. Careful not to disturb her more, he wiped away the residue of tears from his cheeks with his right hand, mindful of his cast. 

At the feeling of being watched, he met his brother's eyes from across the small closet of a curtained room. His favorite brother had always been an open book, easy to read his emotions. Even now, the relief and concern for Kari was evident in his eyes. Without a word, he nodded slowly and deliberately toward the woman in his arms. Ivar nodded in reply. A silent conversation but Ivar knew what it meant. 

Whatever you need. I'll be there. 

Several minutes later, when Kari's quiet sobs transitioned to sniffles, a nurse arrived with a clipboard and release papers. She nervously asked the two men in the room to step outside so she could ask Kari some questions privately. Ivar's hackles immediately rose, a scathing retort on his tongue ready to unleash on the nurse but a squeeze of his hand made the words fade away. 

“I'm okay.” Those blue-green eyes held his, even though red rimmed and watery, he still thought they were one of his most favorite sights. “It'll only be a minute.”

“I'll be just on the other side of the curtain.” He promised, lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. “Call out if you need me, kattungen.”

The subtle blush that arose on her cheeks drew a wicked smile to his lips. Before he could swoop in and kiss her, making them both forget the outside world, Kari lightly pushed on his chest. 

“Go.”

“As my priestess commands.”

Her quiet laughter followed him out of the room, lightening his darkened heart like an eternal candle. Hvitserk closed the curtain behind them, taking up a position mirroring his own, standing guard in front of the room. 

Other patients and nurses moved about the long hallway, some staring at the two brothers, but they were mostly ignored, the chaos and mayhem of the emergency room taking precedence.  

Ivar closed his eyes, rubbing a hand along his forehead to try and encourage the brewing headache to fuck off. 

“How are you holding up?”

He did not even open his eyes as he heard his brother's question. The exhaustion he had been fighting, dulled by the adrenaline from the phone call and finding Kari, now hit him like a semi truck. At this rate, it was debatable if he would actually be able to fall asleep or his body would crash into a coma, forcing him to rest. He just needed to get Kari to his house. If he could get the two of them there, then they could both rest and recover….and he could beg for her to never leave him again. 

He released a long sigh. “I need a cigarette.” 

“Want to step out? I'll stay with Kari.”

For a second, he considered it but ultimately shook his head. “I'm not leaving her.”

“What's your plan now? Sounds like you offered for her to stay with us.”

“Yeah. That a fucking problem?”

Hvitserk nudged him with his elbow. “You know it's not. Just…make sure that is what SHE wants.”

“I know.” Ivar ran his hand over his head. “I need her close by. After this…I need to know she's okay.”

“Well, with the way she wouldn't let you go, I think the feeling is mutual.”

Ivar chuckled quietly, warmth flooding his entire body at the reminder. He thought that perhaps she had forgiven him and they could move forward after this. Whatever that looked like, he would take. As long as she was by his side, he did not care what title it held. He just needed her. She was his morning sunrise, the stars in his night sky. Without her, his world was dark and filled with pain and anger. 

A new set of footsteps coming down the hallway had the brothers looking up. At the face that came into view, Ivar's fatigue drained away again. Fury pulsated like a second heartbeat in his chest, shooting its tendrils throughout his body like a living organism. 

Without a second thought, his feet moved. 

The nurse walking with the man seemed to take note of Ivar first and her face paled. She halted, eyes darting around as if searching for help, for someone to intervene. It was only then her patient took notice. 

But it was too late. It was time to pass the man's sentence and in this case, Ivar was judge, jury and executioner. 

He stormed up to the man, with rage a phantom above him and vengeance nipping at his heels. “You stay the fuck away from Kari. This is your fucking fault she's here!”

“No, the other driver–” Erik tried to defend himself but Ivar was beyond caring about excuses. 

Ivar shoved him. Hard.

Erik stumbled back and fell on his ass, unable to fully stop his fall with his right arm in the sling. A pained hiss slipped from his lips as his body jolted at hitting the floor. 

“Sir, you can't–” the nurse tried to step in but Ivar pointedly ignored her, his full attention at the man sprawled at his feet. 

“I don't give a fuck! You stay the fuck away from her!” 

He took a step back, his eyes, cold as stone, stared the man down as if daring him to say anything. He could see the scattering of cuts on Erik's face and body, most likely from the airbag, the arm sling, and the wrap around his knee. None of it phased the Lothbrok. He did not give a flying fuck about him or his injuries. Under Erik's watch, Kari had gotten hurt. Something that would NEVER happen again. 

Satisfied he had gotten his point across, Ivar turned to head back to his brother when he heard the resentful mutter behind his back. 

“Psycho asshole.”

He could feel the insult sink in and flow through every part of his body. His concern had been for Kari, with keeping her safe. But now, with that one utterance…the idiot had made this personal. 

Before Erik blinked, Ivar had whipped around and grabbed him by the front of his t-shirt. He hauled him up roughly to stare into his face. The youngest Lothbrok reveled in the shock and fear that coated the blond's face. People always forgot that he spent a good portion of his life crawling around when his legs were unusable due to surgeries or pain, which built up his upper body strength. Even now, he still enjoyed working out his upper body, being as strong as possible, proving he was more than his useless legs. 

“You want to say that to my face, you little fucker?” He sneered. “Huh?”

“IVAR!”

At the shout of his name, he looked over his shoulder. Hvitserk stood beside Kari, the latter with a hand over her mouth and beseeching eyes wide. A few paces in front of them stood his father, the one who called his name, poised ready to intervene and yank his son away. 

Without remorse, Ivar roughly let go of Erik. “Stay away from her, or I won't be so nice next time.” With the threat looming above them, he turned and headed back to his family…

…Back to his kitten and hopefully away from this fucking awful place. 

“Kari, you don't have to go with him!” 

Ivar froze. Again. 

“I–I can drive you home. I'll be discharged soon if you'll just…wait.”

The entire hall waited with baited breath. Only the sounds of the machines beeping could be heard. 

Yet his whole world had narrowed down to Kari. His eyes zeroed in on her, waiting, watching, for a sign, a subtle hint, instruction on what to do next. Did he go to her? Or was she terrified of him once again? Should he turn around and rip that little fucker's spine out of his body? As these questions whirled about like a chaotic storm, his feet remained firmly planted. 

Until her. 

Like a sunbeam breaking through the darkest storm, that was his Kari. 

His light. His life. 

With his name on her lips but no sound uttered, she held out her hand for him. Those stunning eyes focused on him, calling, summoning, drawing him in. 

And like a moth to the flame, he followed. But instead of death being at the source of light for him, there was the brightest joy and affection, belonging and loyalty. 

He reached out, taking her hand as he got closer and drew her back to his side. He planted a brief kiss on the top of her head. “Let's go home, kattungen.” 

Neither Ivar nor Kari looked back at Erik. 

They followed Hvitserk and Ragnar out to Ivar's car. Ragnar drove with his son in the passenger seat, and Ivar and Kari in the back. Kari was still tucked in his side, head on his shoulder and holding hands. 

As the vehicle pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, her body began to subtly shake. Ivar tugged her onto his lap and began softly speaking, trying to soothe her in his native tongue. Like a child, she tucked her face into his neck as if to hide from the world. Her hand gripped his with a death grip, but he paid no mind, encouraging and comforting however he could. 

About halfway through the drive, Kari finally spoke, her trembling having subsided. “Why do you have a cast?” 

He glanced down at the damn thing laying across her thighs. “Broke my hand.”

“How?”

“Boxing.”

“Hmmm…did you win?” 

He snorted, glancing at her, meeting her face with a small smile. “I always win.”

“Uh huh. Sure you do.” She rasped out, her voice sounding a little stronger but still rough. 

“Are you teasing me right now?”

She mock-gasped. “No one would dare tease you.”

He squeezed the top of her knee, making her squirm and squeak. “And you remember that.”

The conversation died out; silence reigned for a while. Ivar rubbed his thumb on the back of her hand as he rested his head on top of hers with eyes closed. Exhaustion crept back in once again, tugging his eyelids shut and numbing his mind. All he wanted to do was crawl into his bed, with Kari joining him, and lock his bedroom door so no one could bother them for at least three days. Maybe a week. 

“Oh no!” Kari gasped, abruptly sitting upright. 

Her sudden startle, sent a shockwave through him. He bolted upright, mind racing. “What?”

“All my groceries. They were in the back of Erik's car. I don't– I don't have money to buy more.”

He chuckled, tugging her back to lean against him. He could not believe she would panic over such a small thing. “Don't worry about it. I've got it.” 

“But, that's not–”

“Kari,” he interrupted her, grabbing her chin and forcing her eyes to meet his. “I'll take care of it. Understand?”

“Yes.”

She answered correctly but he could see - could sense - her hesitation, that wavering confidence. Something he needed to alleviate.

He released her chin to tenderly caress her cheek before guiding her forehead to press against his. “I'll take care of you.” He repeated, hoping his words would sink into her mind and plant there, for he meant every one. “Whatever you need. Groceries. New clothes. A car. I'll get it, you just tell me. Okay?” 

“You don't have to. It's not–”

“I want to.” He interrupted. “I want to take care of you. Don't you understand. I…I failed you but that won't happen again. Please, kitten. Please, just let me do this.” 

Time paused as he waited for her reply, for her agreement, for a sign. Anything! Forehead still pressed to his, she slowly breathed. Panic might have crept in to discourage him if he had not been able to feel her hand playing with his hair at the nape of his neck. She was still so relaxed, so trusting, in his lap. He knew all he had to do was wait.

And so he waited for her. 

Like he promised he would. 

Finally, she quietly sighed out her response before slipping back against his chest and cuddling close. “Thank you, Ivar.”

A wave of gratitude and affection filled his soul. A dopey grin on his face, he tugged her closer and laid his head back on hers. 

“Anything for you, Kari.”

Tag List:

@southernbe @tessakate @ivarlover @nothingtolosebutweight @beautifulweaselplaidsalad @noway4u @cdauni @istorkyou @ringpopdust @lotr-got

[playasmo]

OH MY GOD THE OBEY ME BROTHERS AS FATHERS ARE SO OSGSKSVE

Could you do the Side characters?? The children's name Headcanons??

how the obey me “side characters” would name their children

“how the obey me side characters would name their children”—minus luke

;;thank you for requesting, anon! i’m so glad you enjoyed my last headcanons. and also thank all of you for the reblogs and likes,,, never expected my blog to suddenly blow up like that !! <3

disclaimer: i’m making these for fun! tell me which names you liked the most. this is not proofread yet

reminder:requests are open, but i only do headcanons at the moment! p.s: i’m currently writing something related to asmo <3

diavolo;

It's only reasonable to give diavolo's child a name fit for a monarch since they will play a highly significant role in the devildom’s society. they will be welcomed into the world with high expectations on their shoulders

If it’s a boy, he would choose..rufus, which means red-haired king, a perfect name for an heir. For a secondborn, he would choose teivel, which means devil

If it’s a girl, he would choose..diana which means divine. another similar name, but with different meaning, is arcadia which means place of peace and contentment—after all, his main goal is to bring harmony among the three realms.

barbatos;

he chose the names based on their meaning but to also to express his values and duties.

If it’s a boy, he would choose..mayhem which means "chaos" or "permanent injury." he always claims that he chose the name because it is related to space and time—but it is actually a tribute to his favorite metal band. he also likes bensik which means "loyal, faithful person."

If it’s a girl, he would choose..maeyna which means "helper, supporter." He also likes sybilla which means "prophecy teller," "timekeeper," or "oracle."

 solomon;

he is the only human here, but despite that, he refuses to choose a basic name for his baby. He is a wizard, he is bound to be creative

If it’s a boy, he would choose..menelik which means "son of the wise"—fun fact, menelik was king solomon’s son according to the medieval ethiopian book. he also likes kesem which means "magic" or "sorcery" in hebrew.

If it’s a girl, he would choose..tafathe which means "distillation," a method used in chemistry and potion making—it’s also name the name of king solomon's daughter according the Bible. he would also like miriam which means "gift of love" or "beloved." he chose it because he would never wants his child to feel unloved or lonely like he occasionally does.

simeon;

a baby is always a joy, especially when it is his child. he would undoubtedly choose a joyful, holy name fit for an angel

If it’s a boy, he would choose..sachiel which means "covering of God." he is a soldier of the lord after all. he also likes asher which means "miracle."

If it’s a girl, he would choose..rachael which means "one with purity," “ewe" or “lamb”. he also likes eden, which means "paradis," "place of pleasure and delight." the name has a strong connection to the bible.

[foxsoulart]

"Teenage Mystic Yokai Turtles"

Mystic Summons Au : Casey and April summon 4 mystic turtles, using ancient clan scrolls, to help save the world (the boys are just a tad unhinged and rather enjoy the modern world than do any work)

Thousands of years old(technically)

Earth threatened by Triceratons

Michelangelo:

- 'Youngest'

-is the strongest, mystic power wise

-often floats around

-major prankster

Donatello:

- 'second youngest'

- absolutely fascinated by technology, there wasn't any the last time they were summoned

-able to connect and control programs/tech such as spaceships, simply by touching and extending his mystic

-holds grudges

Leonardo:

- 'second oldest'

- likes planning pranks with Mikey

- loses arm to Triceratons?

- flamboyant

Raphael:

- 'oldest'

- big ol teddy bear

- loves cute fluffy things

All four are technically the same age, slight time difference in hatching

All four love love love basking

The magic summon scroll:

Ancient, can only be destroyed by incredibly powerful mystic magic. Cannot be destroyed by the mystic sealed in it. Several scrolls scattered around the world each with different mystics. Mystics are sealed by either being forced, tricked, or agreeing to a contract of sorts. Don't necessarily have to obey the one who summoned them, big loopholes to take advantage of there. Scrolls are impervious to the elements; fire, water, sunlight, time etc. Those who seal them don't have to be stronger than the mystic being sealed, although it helps.

Mystics do not age while inactive-sealed-not summoned. Time in between Summons is like a blink, or short nap. Time is paused and so is their consciousness. Mystics can be any species, not just yokai.

About the boys sealing circumstances:

Were tricked into it. Not really mad about it,(probably) since the dude who sealed them is long since dead. Have been sealed since medieval times. Only summoned 10 times, last was over 3000 years ago (have to check my math) these numbers and times are subject to change because I can't make up my mind or bother with math

All four are on 1 scroll, cannot be summoned individually. All or nothing.

The Triceratons:

Lived on earth back in the dinosaur age as normal dinosaurs, mutated by krang deal. Big guys, like 12 tmnt big.

Returned, but decided to get rid of the 'lesser lifeforms' aka humans before settling in.

Or

Fugitiod situation. Except he actually is a criminal. And a cyborg(?) But overall a nice guy.

The krang: ? Who Dat? No krang here?

Casey jones Hammato: Hamato clan descendent. 19 yrs. Fluffy black hair, striking blue eyes. Summons the boys in hopes they will protect the earth.

April (O Neilus or Hammato idk):

Sister or best friend? 18yrs. Red hair. Summons boys with Casey. Part of the Violet Wyverns (band or gang or club idk yet)

Violet Wyverns (name pending): band or gang or club of some real cool peeps. Members include Mondo(leopard gecko yokai boy, 16 yrs) Milo ( Asian persuasion girl, 17yrs) plus more I haven't decided yet

Hidden City: pretty much the same as rottmnt, lotsa them all over the earth.

Other planets outside of earth: who knows? Will I ever integrate any in this au?

Other sentient species besides humans: Yokai, mutants, Triceratons, ??? Mythical beings? Idk yet?

Basic plotline/storyline: guys get summoned, some stuff happens, get kidnapped by Triceratons, interagated/tortured for info cause "hey they look like they know something, let's grab them" - them being clueless for once. Escape involves setting the leader ship into self destruct. Repels the dinos. Casey don't know how to seal them back, not that he really wants to, so hey, let's explore modern earth. Chaos ensues. Mystic Mayhem anyone?

Tags are: #mystic Summons au and #teenage mystic yokai turtles

I love love love questions and asks! Suggestions are cool too! This helps me world/lore build and be decisive about things