#Victory Archery

[hcnnibal]

double trouble 😈

[tenth-sentence]

Then the Orcs broke and fled, and the Eldar had the victory, and their horsed archers pursued them even into the Iron Mountains.

"The Silmarillion" - J.R.R. Tolkien

[iismmumbai]

🏹🥇 A big shoutout to TYBSM student, Mr. Kaushik Pandey, for an extraordinary performance at the 13th FAAM's Maharashtra State Level Field Indoor Archery Championship 2023-24 in Kharadi, Pune! 🌟

In the Five Spot Senior Category, he led the team to victory, bagging the Gold Medal and a well deserved Bronze Medal for individual brilliance! 🥇🥉🏹 We are proud to have such a talented archer representing IISM on the podium.

Congratulations, Kaushik! Your dedication and skill have truly made IISM proud. 🎉🏹

Click to know more: https://www.iismworld.com/?utm_source=social&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=social

[ma1dita]

BABEEE happy birthday!! (i'm so terribly late i'm so sorry) congrats on 23💖

🐥 so i'm having thoughts right now about luke x reader and physical affection. like maybe one of them being touch starved and always craving the other person's touch and the other person noticing it and doing it more? maybe from platonic (i will go down with best friends to lovers) to romantic, i'm just on this brainrot tonight

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

luke castellan x reader

a/n: back from the klerb but here with a classic 4am post 🥂 but the hangxiety wont let me rest until this is out! ill edit this in the morning... or not 😗

wc: 1.1k

—

It’s hard to miss what you’ve never had.

Luke Castellan was never a touchy guy. Sure, he’ll hold a new camper’s hand during welcome tours (especially the little ones who can barely keep up with his long legs; if they’re lucky they get a piggy back ride), and he won’t shy away from a clap on the back when his strategies for capture the flag bring his team to victory (they always do, mind you), and when he feels like it, he’ll even shove Annabeth playfully to show her he adores her (but she packs a punch now that she’s older).

It never really goes past that, and he’s never had to think too hard about it—physical touch.

He’s the one who takes care of others—a part of his nature like it is for Hermes’ cabin to take in unclaimed demigods. But something changed in the months that he’s gotten closer to you. At first, he’d bite his tongue at the way you’re so open to patting his cheek when he does something funny (which he doesn’t try to make a show of, but now…), how you choose to sit so close to him during bonfires that your knees touch (the Apollo kids could be singing about the heavens falling down on them for all he cares but he zeroes in on every word that leaves your lips), and the way you’d lock your fingers with him for a pinky promise after every little thing ‘to make sure it’s real’ (Luke didn’t understand the merit of a pinky promise over whether you could have his dessert for the next week if you took over arts and crafts with the kiddie campers for him; truthfully he’d give it to you anyway). It was unusual for him to have someone comfort him, to show care without a true reason. But he didn’t realize how much more it bothered him now that you wouldn’t even look him in the eye.

Silena and some of the other Aphrodite children had asked you the very defining question of, “Do you like Luke Castellan?” and having never thought of it that way, or being able to put your feelings for him in words instead of fingers in his belt loops or in the muss of his curls—that shit was terrifying!

You spent all Saturday afternoon at the docks with them belly down under the glare of the sun’s rays as they explained to you what the five love languages are. By the end of it, sunburn wasn’t the only reason you felt hot.

“Your love language is physical touch,” one of Silena’s older half-siblings—Connelly, says like he’s explaining that the sky is blue, “And Luke’s not that type of guy! Think he’s more acts of service…”

“Ooh, or words of affirmation….” another one of them muses, but the sound of your heartbeat tunes it all out. Well shit, have you been sending him the wrong signals? Or are there even any signals you want to send him? 

Nevertheless, in the matters of love or even the tiniest whisper of it—maybe there’s no one else you can trust with this stuff besides Cabin 10.

Wrong.

Absolutely wrong. Whatever the hell you’ve been convinced or whatever’s changed since last weekend—Luke just knows he hates it, and he’s angry. He’s angry at how you gasp in surprise every time you brush shoulders during archery practice when you used to let him fix your form, he’s angry at how you’ll squeeze campers’ shoulders to tell them they’re doing a good job carrying the strawberry crates—and all he gets is a mumbled ‘Thanks, Castellan’ when he stacks them up and takes your load.

Luke’s so terribly angry that Travis told him he’s been walking around like a big strawberry, face red and irritated—but not at you. 

He realizes he’s also angry at the fact that he can’t protect you from the onslaught of a rain cloud—or maybe it was the fact that you’re so okay with the rain touching your skin and seeping through your orange shirt like he wishes you’d let him. He’s angry at the way the wind blows your hair into your face and your fingers brush the strands away like he wishes he can. Most of all, Luke Castellan is angry that he didn’t know how good a simple touch could be until he lost it—before he even really got to appreciate yours.

You’re sitting on the opposite end of the row in the amphitheater laughing with your friends and the furrow in his thick brow is a tell-tale sign of his discomfort. Luke doesn’t dare to remember what it’s like before you to be honest—he’d rather give up Elysium instead of having you ignore him like this. He calls your name, a tinge of both anger and desperation until you look over at him, eyelashes kissing your cheeks. The hold you have on him transcends the physical touch of your fingers but he wants, no—needs you next to him.

“C’mere! Why are you so far away?”

Luke hopes it doesn’t sound pathetic, but a crooked grin splits across his face as soon as you make your way over, sitting down and crossing your legs away from him. It’s still too far, even if he can feel your breath on his shoulder.

“Did I do something to make you angry? I…” The words escape his mouth in a jumble—quick wit from his father escaping him, though he knows not to rely on that asshole, god or not. You mutter words that almost escape him too, and he leans in, chasing your hands and putting them in his own until they’re gentle and soft in his lap.

“No, no…. I just… don’t want to push your boundaries. I know you don’t like it when I’m too touchy,” and he thinks his heart clenches a little like how you’re squeezing his hands. Luke shouldn’t feel instant gratification from a subconscious action. He wants to know you mean it with him—that’s what he can’t put into words.

“I….like it when you do.”

You notice the way his fingers tangle tighter with yours, pinkys interlocking with yours. When he lets go, Luke wraps his arm around your shoulders until you’re able to laugh in the crook of his neck. He chooses to place a kiss on the corner of your mouth when your head sways to face him at the silly tune about centaurs and then you realize that Luke loves the way you love him. You wonder if he accidentally missed meeting your lips, but then the noise in your head quiets down when he pulls you closer, lips locking tenderly, intentionally—as they were always meant to.

You both hear a giggle that sounds a lot like tinkling bells belonging to children of Aphrodite. 

For once they were wrong about love. 

Luke’s tongue parts through your lips and meets your own like they’re in a long awaited embrace, dancing and devouring you from the inside out but this, you— are what he can rely on. This, your touch, and how he chooses to let it consume him, never letting go.

[rose-edith]

Being a plus size Bridgerton sister would include:

•All your life you’d felt like an imposter, bigger than your sisters- sturdier- curvier. You felt less than, despite being physically more than. And you felt that no one ever really understood that.

•Your mother and Lady Danbury saw no flaws in you, thought you were absolutely beautiful, and kind and clever- but they believed you were simply crippling shy. So naturally, they went out of their way to help ‘bring you out of your shell’. Which yes, was as utterly hellish as it sounds! It meant rounds of introductions to eligible men, being pushed to the centre stage at all family functions, dressed in more jewels than anyone else. They really wanted to make you sparkle, because to them, you were already a diamond. You had been the apple of your Father’s eye before his death, and everytime Violet looked at you, it was Edmund she could see.

•as for the Queen? You may well not exist. She wasn’t even the slightest bit perplexed or excited by you. Which suited you fine!

•Anthony is SO protective of you, and following his marriage to Kate, she becomes protective of you too. Kate and Anthony stare at any members of the ton who even dream of thinking anything unkind.

•On his travels, Colin makes sure to collect for you the most beautiful jewellery or paintings or fabrics. Colin is tender with all his siblings, but he’s the one who listens to you most when you’re upset- he’s the one who sees it, and does his best to support you and build your confidence. Whether it’s fashionable or not to dance with your own sister, Colin will always take you for at least one turn about the floor; he can’t bare for you to be overlooked or be left ‘on the shelf’.

•Benedict is also your number one fan, at balls and social events he’ll often help you to escape- whether he takes you for a turn about the room, to get a drink, or to help you leave early if you’re just not feeling it.

•Growing up, you couldn’t help but be envious of Daphne, of her looks, her success on the marriage mart, her beautiful life with Simon. But as you grew, she showed you that real beauty comes from within anyway. Simon loves you too, finding you to be amusing, clever and witty. As for their children- well, you’re their favourite Aunt!

•Eloise was aloof as ever, she understood rationally and practically why you were somewhat on the outskirts of society. But she enjoyed not being the only one on the outside looking in; and sometimes when she needed an out you would cause a diversion, and vice versa; Eloise was an ally!

•and hand in hand with Eloise came a friendship with Penelope. You realised almost immediately that Pen was Lady Whistledown, but you never told a soul. Not Pen, not Eloise, not anyone. You were proud of Pen for using the harsh reality of a lonely life to create something meaningful; to carve her own career. Penelope was your friend, though she was Eloise’s best friend. She was at your side when Cressida cut across your heart with her barbs and remarks, and when Cressida “accidentally” cut Penelope up, spilt her drink or split her dress, you would retaliate in kind- most notably resulting in her perfectly smoothed down hair getting dislodged when she “tripped” over your out-stretched foot at the drinks table. ‘Poor Cressida!’ You had cried with devilish delight. ‘What an awful spectacle to befall you!’ The music stopped and everyone turned to look as the mighty Cressida crumbled. What an elated victory indeed.

•Francesca was in and out of your lives, going to Bath and escaping the misery of a lonely life in London. But she would send you music; and suddenly the world wasn’t so blue.

•Your favourite people of all to be around though? Hyacinth and Gregory. They were young, brains like sponges ready to learn and laugh and they love you without reservation. You spend afternoons drilling them with dances, playing archery, games, stealing cakes from the kitchens.

•but like all your family, there’s only one thing you ever wanted really: to find love. You just weren’t foolish enough to believe you’d find it yet, but maybe, just maybe, you’d be surprised when love fell directly into your lap.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Shot Through The Heart IV

Alexia Putellas x Archer!Reader

Summary: Your last final

You smiled at your girls. At nearly ten years old, they were growing like weeds.

Alexia had hung up her boots nearly six months ago and now it was your turn. It was your last world championship ever. It had been a good few years for you but you knew it was time to retire.

Your medals were getting a bit cluttered and Alexia was adamant that you didn't need as many bows as you had.

You knew it was time.

Your girls were forging their own paths. Maya loved football like Alexia loved football and Elena had scratched herself on one of your arrows once and had been hooked ever since.

It was time to move away from your sport and focus on your daughters.

Alexia had moved on to coaching at Barca and you had your own coaching planned. You'd received offers from your old team in Korea but had benched the idea with a simple 'maybe in a few years' as you wanted to focus on your girls first.

You rolled your shoulders as Alexia stood behind you, adjusting your shoulder brace.

"Not too tight?" She asked.

"It's good," You confirmed," I'm ready."

Alexia smiled at you fondly, cupping your cheek. "Girls!" She called," Your mum is about to head out! Wish her luck!"

Elena barrelled into you quickly, her arms moving to hug you tight. "You need to win!" She said," You have to win!"

"I'll try my best," You laughed," But you and your sister have got to be super quiet during the shots, alright? Do you remember why?"

"Because it's respectful."

"It's boring," Maya muttered as she approached. She usually had football practice today but Alexia had taken her out of it because today was the last final of your life. Maya hadn't really taken it well, perhaps not really understanding how important this was.

"Maya," Alexia said in warning," Enough."

Your girls may not have been teenagers yet but Maya certainly acted like one.

"I'm just saying!"

"This is your mum's last tournament ever," Alexia chided," And you will support her in it because we are a family. How would you like it if me and your mum didn't come to your games? Huh?"

"Sorry, mum." Maya moved to give you a hug and you held her nice and tight, opening your arms to welcome Elena back in as well.

"Good luck," Alexia said as you moved to head out, shouldering your bow as the tournament staff waited outside for you," Not that you'll need it."

"I'll take it anyway," You said, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

Unlike football games, crowds at archery tournaments sat in silence. The target sat seventy metres away from you and you closed your eyes briefly to focus on the wind. It was barely there and you smiled. If there was one thing you hated, it was shooting in the wind.

You shook hands with your opponent, smiling at her in recognition. You used to play on the same team when you played in Korea. She was a few years younger than you so you never really interacted but it was nice to see her.

You weren't going to let her win though.

Archery had always been easy for you. It was repetitive and calming.

Notch.

Draw.

Release.

Repeat.

You matched it to your breathing, one eye closing to line up your shot. You drew on the inhale and released on the exhale.

Ten.

Ten.

Ten.

Ten.

Your opponent was nearly as good as you but there was a reason you had been world number one for years.

You rarely missed the ten.

Sometimes it wasn't a proper bullseye but you knew how to aim your shots so there was another space in the circle for the rest of your arrows.

Your opponent consistently hit tens too but dotted inside her shots were a few nines and a disastrous six in her last set that let you know you had cinched the victory.

But, still, this was going to be your last competitive shot.

You made sure to make it memorable.

A bullseye.

You smiled, shaking her hand and the rest of her team's before looking up at the stands to see your wife and children. Elena looked ecstatic. You weren't surprised. She'd loved coming to practice with you ever since she could walk.

Maya was equally excited, jumping up and down even though her heart was firmly settled on football.

Alexia blew you a kiss as you began to get ushered away for the medal ceremony.

You accepted it happily, pretending to bite it for the cameras before excusing yourself as soon as you could.

"I'm so proud of you, amor!" Alexia came out of nowhere. She leapt into your arms and you had to drop your bow to catch her.

You spun her around with a laugh that got muffled against her lips against yours.

"Did you enjoy the match, girls?" You were talking to your children but didn't look away from Alexia, who was pressing soft, fluttering kisses all over your face.

"You're so cool, mum!" Elena said," Can you teach me how to shoot like that?"

"Let's wait until you're strong enough to draw a proper bow, Elena, but after that, definitely."

"Maya?" Alexia said, still refusing to leave your arms," What about you? Do you have something to say?"

Maya huffed like a moody teenager. "I guess archery isn't as boring as I thought."

You laughed. "Thanks, kid. High praise."

She puffed out her cheeks. "You know what I mean."

"I do." You hefted Alexia up higher and grinned. "Come on, you lot. I'm starving."

[chinesehanfu]

[Ming Dynasty]Chinese Armor：Life of female general 秦良玉/Qin Liangyu

The only female general recognized by the Chinese Orthodox Histories,The Twenty-Four Histories (Chinese: 二十四史)

【Historical Artifact Reference】:

China Ming Dynasty Royal Painting:《出警图/Departure Herald》

In this handscroll is a great imperial procession making its way to pay respects at the imperial tombs. Departing from the Te-sheng (Victory) Gate of the Peking city wall, the artists here depicted shops along the way and the appearance of ceremonial guards to the final destination of the imperial tombs, the final resting place for Ming dynasty emperors 45 kilometers from the capital at Mt. T'ien-shou. Departure Herald is actually accompanied by another long handscroll painting entitled Return Clearing. That work depicts the process of the tomb sweeping and inspection tour. Usually considered as a pair, they are collectively known as Departure Herald and Return Clearing.

↑Emperor Wanli of the Ming Dynasty of China, Zhu Yijun, wearing armor

The emperor's guards and ceremonial guards, a good depiction of Ming dynasty armor

【秦良玉/Qin Liangyu：The only female general recognized by the Chinese emperor and official history】

Qin Liangyu (1574–1648), courtesy name Zhensu, was a female general best known for defending the Ming dynasty from attacks by the Manchu-led Later Jin dynasty in the 17th century.

Early life and education

Qin Liangyu was born in Zhongzhou (忠州), which is in present-day Zhong County, Chongqing.Her father, Qin Kui (秦葵), obtained the position of a gongsheng (貢生) in the civil service examination. He believed that girls should receive the same education as boys, so he made Qin Liangyu study history and the Confucian classics with her brothers. He also taught them martial arts. Qin Liangyu learnt martial arts more deeply than her brothers and became proficient in archery and horse-riding. She was also known for her skill in poetry.

Marriage to Ma Qiancheng

In 1595, Qin Liangyu married Ma Qiancheng (馬千乘), the tusi and xuanfushi (宣撫使; "Announcing and Pacifying Commissioner") of Shizhu County, and accompanied him in minor battles against local warlords in the southwestern border of the Ming Empire. They had a good marriage and he often sought her advice.In 1599, when Yang Yinglong (楊應龍) started a rebellion in Bozhou (播州; present-day Zunyi, Guizhou), Ma Qiancheng brought 3,000 riders with him to suppress the revolt while Qin Liangyu brought an additional 500 to support her husband. They successfully quelled the rebellion and destroyed the rebels' camps.

In 1613, Ma Qiancheng offended Qiu Chengyun (邱乘雲), an influential court eunuch, and ended up being arrested and imprisoned. He died in prison later. Qin Liangyu succeeded her husband as the xuanfushi of Shizu County. Those under her command were known as the White Cavalry (白杆兵).

Resisting rebel forces in Sichuan

In 1620, Qin Liangyu's elder brother, Qin Bangping (秦邦屏), led 3,000 White Cavalry to Liaodong to resist invaders from the Manchu-led Later Jin dynasty. He was killed in action at the Battle of Hun River (渾河之戰).

In 1623, Qin Liangyu assisted Ming forces in suppressing the She-An Rebellion in Sichuan and Guizhou led by She Chongming (奢崇明) and An Bangyan (安邦彥). In the following year, her elder brother, Qin Minping (秦民屏), was killed in battle by An Bangyan's forces.

In 1630, when Later Jin forces besieged the Ming capital, Beijing, Qin Liangyu led forces from Sichuan to reinforce the capital. The Chongzhen Emperor showered her with praises in poetry and presented her with four poems as she passed through Beijing. In 1634, when Zhang Xianzhong's rebel army invaded Sichuan, Qin Liangyu and her son, Ma Xianglin (馬祥麟), led their troops to attack the rebels, defeated them at Kuizhou (夔州; present-day Fengjie County, Chongqing) and drove them away. In 1640, Qin Liangyu defeated another rebel force led by Luo Rucai (羅汝才) in Kuizhou and Wushan. In recognition of her contributions to the Ming Empire, the Chongzhen Emperor appointed her as the Crown Prince's Guardian (太子太保) and awarded her the title "Marquis Zhongzhen" (忠貞侯; lit. "Loyal and Chaste Marquis").

Later life and death

The Ming Empire was overthrown in 1644 by rebel forces led by Li Zicheng, and its former territories were conquered by the Later Jin dynasty (later renamed to Qing dynasty). Some Ming loyalists formed a remnant state, the Southern Ming dynasty, in southern China to resist the Qing dynasty. Its nominal ruler, the Longwu Emperor, also granted Qin Liangyu a marquis title. Meanwhile, Zhang Xianzhong invaded Sichuan again, and Qin Liangyu attempted to resist him, but was defeated and forced to retreat, allowing Zhang to conquer most of Sichuan. She did however prevent her soldiers from surrendering to Zhang.

Qin Liangyu controlled part of Shizhu County and her policy of agricultural self-sufficiency made her region attractive for refugees. She helped about 100,000 refugees to settle down in Shizhu.

Qin Liangyu died in 1648 and was buried in present-day Yachun Village, Dahe District, Shizhu County, Chongqing. She was given the posthumous name "Zhongzhen" (忠貞; lit. "Loyal and Chaste") and was survived by her son, Ma Xianglin (馬祥麟).

Legacy

Qin Liangyu's life, along with her weapons and armour, is showcased in a museum in Shizhu County, Chongqing. A statue of her is in the Ganyu Hall of the Shibaozhai in Zhong County (that was preserved during the Three Gorges Project).Together with Hua Mulan, Liang Hongyu and He Yufeng, Qin Liangyu is one of the most well-known female warriors and heroines in China.

In the Twenty-Four Histories, Qin Liangyu was also the only woman whose biography was listed among the biographies of court officials and generals.

________________

📸Photo & Model :@金角大魔王i & @爱穿汉服的曠先生

🔗Weibo:https://weibo.com/1763668330/O3aKR4CSv

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[grimesgirll]

you'd been begging daryl to take you hunting.

"why don't you take her?" rick implored. "she's not a bad shot."

"we'd be bowhunting, not rifle hunting." daryl distinguishes with a grunt.

"i can learn," you assure him, holding your compound bow in your hands. "technically, i've been shooting since i was seven."

"once a summer for fifteen minutes while peddling cookies," he states.

"c'mon, she learned a lot at camp." rick rebuts, grinning at you. "right, doll, didn't you learn how to build a fire and purify water?" you nod. "none of us have frozen to death or gotten diphtheria yet, so i'd say you should at least give her archery skills a chance."

"please?" you borderline beg, breath hitching as you see your morning not going how you planned. "i really wanna learn to track."

daryl doesn't say anything, just looks from you to the bow in your hand. rick interrupts whatever thoughts he has with a sigh. "daryl, why don't ya just take her? she clearly wants to go with you." he gestures to you. "how can you say no to her when she's asking so nicely? unless you think it's too hairy for her out there and we should just spend the day tucked inside here."

you whine at the idea. you want to be outside.

that spurs daryl into saying a rushed, "grab your heavy coat and your arrows."

you grin at rick who despite assisting in your victory, looks disappointed that you'll be gone for the day. while daryl is busy grabbing his crossbow, you slink over to rick, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“thanks,” you seal your gratitude with a kiss.

he wraps a firm arm around you. "you're welcome, sweetheart," your leader punctuates with a hand dug in your hair while he brings your face to his. you almost don't notice daryl until he's huffing by the doorway and you're kissing rick goodbye one last time and scrambling to grab your bow before dashing out the door after your boyfriend.

gone from alexandria, you and daryl take off on foot towards what he’d described as the best hunting grounds in the nearest fifty miles.

"be sure to quiet down," daryl tells you, abstaining from cringing as your boots crunch every leaf on the forest floor beneath them.

"sorry," you giggle. you try to quell your footsteps but it's hard when you're so captivated by the beauty of the woods.

before everything happened with the dead walking, you loved being outside. growing up in scouts and regularly camping had turned you into someone who was all too reckless outside for their knowledge of the woods. yes, you knew that predators and walkers lurked around every corner out here but you just want to crane your neck and stare at the sky through the trees, or let your eyes wander over the meandering streams.

that's why daryl is watching you like a hawk.

years of tracking has made him hip to everything going on around him. truth be told, if anyone or anything were on your trail, you were a dead giveaway. stomping about the way you are, you're bound to scare off any small game but he's trying to be patient with you. it's not like you had to keep it down at your hippie dippie kumbaya girl scout camp or on sunlit afternoon hikes. daryl, on the other hand, moved about undetected like it was second nature. had to be quiet if you wanted to actually to leave the forest with a meal.

he's watching you and the woods just to be safe. it's hard not getting distracted by you the way you're getting all caught up in the trees and the vivid greenery surrounding you.

the sight of you; pink lips parted just slightly with your head tipped all the way back to look for bird nests have his jeans getting cramped. you're just so excited to be outside.

it's not like you don't go on walks every day in alexandria with judith or join them on occasional outings beyond the walls. there's just not as much room for you to leave with how dangerous even just scavenging is turning out to be, so it's harder to get you out for a remote nature walk.

"what're we tracking for?" you ask.

daryl pushes a branch out of the way, holding it back as you pass under before catching up. "whatever you don't scare away with all that noise."

you snort. "so no deer?"

the redneck laughs. "not with the way you're tramping through here."

"what about pheasants?" you question, tiptoeing over a particularly rocky section of daryl's trail. "or do we need dogs to find them?"

"you don't need no damn dog to hunt pheasants."

"a decoy?"

"you just gotta' be patient." he clicks his tongue. "but it's not like you'd know anything about that." you let out a small whine and his breath hitches.

"just askin'."

"i know, girl."

"so what're you shooting for?"

daryl shrugs. "think' we can probably find something further up the ridge. rabbit, squirrel, something 'for you to aim at."

you nod and knock an arrow. following your boyfriend as he takes you past one of his favorite creeks outside of alexandria, leading the way as you pad along on the forest floor behind him.

your shotgun is slung on your back in its strap, understudying the compound bow you’d dug out of the armory. there were many fewer bow users in the apocalypse than there should’ve been. for every bow hunter, there were fifteen idiots blowing off the head of whatever or whoever they encountered with some barely functional, scavenged handgun. maintaining the skill and the arrows for a bow wasn't necessarily for the lazy.

you really didn't have much experience with archery or hunting for that matter. rick joked that you were a duck hunter but that had been dumb luck. while scavenging for gas along a riverside park, you'd seen some geese and fired your shotgun. rick couldn't be upset about the noise when your impulsive assault on the waterfowl was what filled your stomachs that night. and as a reward, rick filled you up just the way you liked it that night.

you'd go out firing on random flocks of geese more if it meant rick would fuck you the way he did that night. you were losing your mind - putty in his hands - from all the praise. his good girl who shot their dinner. marking every thrust with more praise.

the naughty bundle of nerves between your legs awakens at the thought of receiving the same treatment from daryl. he didn't love spanking your ass red or doling out punishments like rick, but you wanted to see his face after you caught something. after you shoot a deer with your bow. he would be so proud of you, giving you a celebratory kiss before helping you field dress your harvest.

whatever route daryl is following takes on an impressive incline, giving way to a fragmented vista of the tiny green valley. you wish you had binoculars. once your eyes stop scanning the sky for hawks, an auburn mess of hair catches your eye. even through his black windbreaker, you can see the outline of his muscles along his back. his form and thoughts of him taking you up against a tree cloud your brain until you hear your name.

"yeah," you answer, looking up at daryl who's stopped to pause below a short, dense pine. he motions for you to squat with him and you do, settling into a perched position with your loaded bow sat on your knees.

“right here is the perfect pass along the ridge to come up and over the mountain,” daryl explains, blue eyes catching a bit of sunlight. “a bunch of game will be scampering around as the day goes on. won’t see any deer right before noon though. not that they’d wanna walk up here with your loud ass.”

you snicker before sending him an apologetic look. “sorry, dare’. i’m not used to being quiet like that.”

i know, baby, he wants to say but just points to your knocked arrow. “wanna have that ready. never know when a squirrel’ll come skippin’ by.”

“yes, sir,” you croon, smirking at the way his eyes darken and he playfully ruffles your hair.

settling into a cozy state of surveillance, your eyes start to droop. rick had kept you up after daryl went to bed. this was before you woke up with the urge to accompany daryl on his hunt, so you probably only got four or five hours of sleep. typical rick keeping you up with sweet temptations like his hands on your breasts, his warm mouth on your torso, licking down to your clit and reigniting that fire that’s consumed your core earlier in the night.

you start to feel it stirring when your mind wanders to the man sitting beside you. you smile sweetly at him when he catches your gaze and ask an innocent question about pheasant hunting again that breaks the silence.

then you’re relaying the story about the time your cousin fell out of his tree stand after one too many beers.

daryl guffaws. “that’s some’ shit merle would do.”

"yeah, it was pretty stupid of him."

the quiet returns. you sigh. the silence meant to lull the local game into a false sense of security is boring you. you came out here for some one on one time with daryl and to learn to track, not to sit in silence in the cold for god knows how long.

you close the distance between you and daryl. tucking yourself into his side, you earn a look from him. "i'm cold," you commiserate.

the archer has to look away from your doe eyes to keep his zipper from popping. he mentally debates pulling you closer until he gives in and tugs you to his chest, ruining your position holding your bow.

both of you know you’re eventually going to do what you do best in the cold; get distracted by warming each other up. it’s evident from how you sink back further against daryl. nonchalant even when you feel his hardness against your ass.

“feeling warmer,” you update him.

“good,” he murmurs when you press your head back to his chest. you feel warmer; despite your layers, daryl has gotten your core going enough for you to feel it from head to toe.

you imagine a wave of pleasure, not just flickering body heat as you turn around and face his groin on your knees.

“not out here,” he mutters with a gasp of your name. his belt falls and your hands start on his zipper, progressing the metal zip all the way down until a sturdy hand grabs yours. “don’t you wanna catch something?” he reminds you of the reason you even trekked up here.

you shake your head yes.

“then what’s this all about?”

you roll your eyes. “dare’, I’m bored!”

“i told you that half’a hunting is waitin’!” daryl chides, pushing your hands down.

tears well in your eyes. the older man exhales; he’s fucked.

“dare’-,”

“don’t you start.” he tells you, grasping your chin in his hand and leaning down to kiss you. you tilt upwards eagerly into the kiss from the pine needle littered ground. “you’re gonna scare anything left up here.”

daryl disconnects from you when your bow is lowered to the ground. his thumb slips into your mouth and without hesitation, you treat his thumb to the same treatment he’d gotten last night.

it’s not long before he’s finally saying, “fuck it!” declaring out loud what you’ve been yearning for the entire morning.

with another smirk, you strip him of his pants until he’s popping out of his boxers. your mouth is on him an instant - it’s cold after all. first thing, you envelope him in your mouth, pulsing downstairs again when his hands find warmth in your hair. you don’t need him to guide your head down to the base of your cock for you to take him into your throat.

the black shotgun you’d proudly toted - even after it’d been confiscated at terminus - is deposited hap-hazardously on the ground while your bow is on the other side of your legs. daryl’s ditched his crossbow at this point, opting to explore the far reaches of your throat with his cock while the bow stands against the other side of the tree.

your boyfriend’s breath hitches again. you overfill as much of his cock as you can into your mouth until you slide yourself up and off, taking a break to catch your breath.

fucked out and face flush in spite of the cold, daryl is pleasantly surprised when you dive down to pay his balls some serious attention. you loll each one into your mouth, leisurely progressing up his length with gentle licks until you’re gingerly kissing the head, locking eyes with him.

disregarding the chill beneath your knees, you dip your mouth down on him again, licking a new trail up his rock hard cock. thinking about how painful it must be in this cold, you give into him when he thrusts into your mouth.

hands in your hair, daryl is in heaven. getting head under the trees? sign him the fuck up. you two have fooled around outside before of course but that wasn't usually by choice. without having to worry about a horde of walkers hot on your trail or horrors like cannibals hunting you, he could lean back and just enjoy the sight of you between his legs, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock.

for a moment, he worries that the sounds you make as you swallow his length will attract walkers but he's too hard to care. you bob up and down, trying to take more of him each time. his hands guide you until he's bucking in your mouth and feel him spill down your throat.

daryl's gonna have to take you hunting more often.

[essenceofelegance]

new year’s day

Luke Castellan x aphrodite!reader

m.list

warnings: angst </3

There's glitter on the floor after the party,

He’s giving her that smile.

The one reserved for you.

The one you adored so, so much.

Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby

Luke took her hand in his larger one, leading her back to her cabin.

He laughed at something she said.

You directly your attention back to cleaning up the Aphrodite cabin after a party, alone.

Luke used to do it with you.

Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor You and me from the night before, but

While you were cleaning you own bed, you found a polaroid picture of you and Luke from a year ago, probably.

You were wearing a pink, feathered cowboy hat, you were leaning into the camera, a bright smile on your face.

Luke’s hands were on your waist, he had a pink fur boa around him to match your hat.

You would give anything to have him hold you just one more time.

Don't read the last page But I stay when you're lost, and I'm scared, and you're turning away

Of course he would like an Athena girl.

They’re smart, they can fight, and they’re pretty.

Sure, she doesn’t have that radiant glow around her like you did, but she was still pretty.

She had h/c hair, like you did.

She also had e/c eyes.

But her’s… looked so much better than yours. It glowed.

She looked better, she could fight better, she was actually smart.

Your siblings reassured you, insisting that you were a daughter of Aphrodite, there was no way she was prettier than you.

But that wasn’t the way you saw it.

And in your eyes, that wasn’t the way Luke saw it either.

I want your midnights But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

You were teaching your usual archery lessons, when you spot Luke and his new girlfriend in a sparring match.

He looks happy.

Only, a different kind of happy.

Sure, you were good with a dagger, but not sword fighting. You were never good at sword fighting, you were only good at archery.

Maybe Luke wanted something who appreciated the things he liked to do.

You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi I can tell that it's gonna be a long road

"It's not you, it never was, its just that I feel like we don’t get each other anymore." Luke said.

"Yeah, I get it." you looked down to hide your unshed tears.

"Thanks for... everything," you gave him a forced smile.

“You were great. You were a great experience,” Luke said, as if to comfort you.

‘You were everything!’ you wanted to scream at him.

But you just smiled and walked away.

I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe Or if you strike out and you're crawling home

You watched as Luke celebrated his capture the flag victory with his new girlfriend.

You weren’t jealous,

you just felt replaced.

How could he replace you so easily when you felt like your heart would be empty for years?

Did you really mean that little to him?

You couldn’t bear watching them anymore.

Don't read the last page But I stay when it's hard, or it's wrong, or we're making mistakes

A total of 17 guys sent you flowers.

If you were a logical person, you would have at least hooked up with them, but little old you decided that you should wait for Luke.

So, you rejected every single guy that came up to you.

All your siblings are just straight up worried about you now, they knew how important Luke was to you, but not to this degree.

You still cry yourself to sleep every night,

they find you in the middle of the night going through a photo book of you and Luke.

I want your midnights But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

Hold on to the memories They will hold on to you

You still wear the matching bracelet he gave you for your second anniversary.

He’s wearing a new one with his girlfriend.

You see them connecting their magnetic heart charm on their bracelet at campfires, while you’re here playing with yours that no longer had a match.

Hold on to the memories They will hold on to you

You still have his favourite hoodie under your bed.

You still have his favourite shirt under your bed.

You still have one of his camp t-shirts on your bed.

He caught you wearing his hoodie on you way to the bathroom in the middle of the night when you bumped into him.

He never questioned you or asked for it back.

Hold on to the memories They will hold on to you

You still have everything he gave you.

And I will hold on to you.

Everything reminds you of him.

That one bench where the two of you used to hang out on everyday,

ever your own bed, where he used to sneak in to talk to you at night.

Please don't ever become a stranger Whose laugh I could recognise anywhere

You hate it when she makes him laugh.

You hate it when you hear that damn laugh.

You hate it because it didn’t happen because of you.

Please don't ever become a stranger Whose laugh I could recognise anywhere

You hate him because he’s not yours.

-

There's glitter on the floor after the party Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby

It’s been a couple of months.

You still wear his hoodie to sleep.

liked this? or want something better? City of Stars is much more heartbreaking </3

author: yay

Copyright © 2024 Emory Belrose. All rights reserved. 

⋆

Please do not re-upload my work on any platforms without permission.

Any reblogs, comments, likes, shares, and follows are appreciated.

[rlqfpdl]

All I want is you

Apollo!Fem!reader x Jason Grace

Summary: You can’t help but admire Jason. Not knowing he’s doing the same.

Contains: fluff. Characters might seem a bit ooc.

A/N: I noticed the lack of Jason fics so hope you all enjoy this one. I had such fun writing it. Feedback is always welcomed and reqs are open <3

Word count: 1.1k

His skin seemed to glow perfectly, his eyes sparkled with the sun. His perfect silky blonde hair was a bit messy, like he had just woken up. Gods, it was flawless, like gold. His slightly tilted glasses made him look cuter than when he didn't have them on. If you didn't know any better, you would say you're enamored, captivated, charmed, enchan…

“Stop staring, you're drooling,” Will said, pointing towards the corner of his lip and casually continuing to eat his breakfast. You brought your finger towards your lip to confirm. How embarrassing, you thought. “I wasn't staring. I don't know what I could ever be staring at,'' you defended, avoiding Will's gaze. Suddenly, your plate was really interesting as you fiddled around with some pancakes. Smooth, gaslight your brother into thinking he's the crazy one. 

“Sure lover girl, let's pretend you weren't ogling at Mr. Sparky over there,” Will just knew how to push your buttons. Both of you being top healers meant you knew each other better than the rest of your siblings. Sadly, that also meant he knew your weaknesses all too well like a certain blonde he kept talking about.

 “He's way out of my league” you rebutted. You didn't give yourself enough credit. Most would assume you were a daughter of Aphrodite if it weren't for the distinct freckles and soft glow that every Apollo kid seems to have. 

“Yeah well, he likes you back. you guys just need to be a little less shy” he stated as if it were a fact. But it wasn't, well, at least not for you. Jason was just too handsome. Sure, the Aphrodite boys were too, and so were some of the Hermes boys, but Jason was just different in your eyes. It wasn't only about looks; it was his caring personality and how nice he could be. Not that it was a surprise, but considering he is the son of Jupiter you would have thought he would be a little more conceited. 

”You know, you keep saying that, but I don't see it. Plus I can't think of crushes right now; we have to prepare the infirmary.” both you and Will know that deep down, you wanted to believe that Jason liked you back but were always ‘too busy’ to talk about your feelings. 

Especially on capture the flag days, You weren't one to participate; fighting isn't your thing. You were half decent with a bow but just awful at playing, landing you with the amazing job of nursing everyone back to health. You would think people knew better than to slash each other to almost death, knowing that their desert privilege was on the line. But that never seemed to stop anyone from creating more work for the Apollo cabin. 

You sighed as you prepared some of the beds in the infirmary, having gauzes and ambrosia ready at your disposal. Singing softly as you worked, maybe you weren't blessed with amazing archery skills or astonishing arts abilities, but you had other skills in your favor. Like your voice and talent with the lyre. Most of the camp would agree that you were the best singer from the Apollo cabin, often leading the sing-alongs at the campfires or just singing sweet children's songs to the little ones at camp. 

Caught up in your singing and folding of sheets, you didn't hear the conch being blown or the screaming campers celebrating their victory or announcing their complaints over losing. So, to say you almost had a heart attack when you heard a soft voice call your name was truly an understatement. 

“Gods Austin you scared me,” you said, looking at your brother as he smiled softly, “Sorry you just have a patient ready for you, doc,” he said, smirking slightly as he was up to something. “I'll attend some; tell Will to take care of the rest” You turned around, not looking at your now creepily smiling brother. You started putting a little tray on one of the beds . Austin continued talking, “Oh but there is this camper who has specially requested for you,” he said as he dragged said camper towards you. “Okay well bring them up; i don't have time to attend everybody,” your voice started to faint as you looked up towards this oh so special camper that requested you. 

“I can come back at another time if you're too busy,” he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head with rosy cheeks, he was embarrassed. But now you sported matching red cheeks as you looked at him intensely in awe of his presence. “No, you fine Jason please sit” you gestured towards the bed. “I got nicked with a sword; it's not that bad” he explained, tilting his head, his voice was ringing in your ears like a charm.

“Can i touch your face” you mumbled as you began to study the small gash he had from afar. “Sure,” Jason stuttered a bit, his face getting a little bit redder. You softly touched his jaw, further inspecting his injury. “Well, it's not deep enough for ambrosia or nectar, but it's still kind of deep,” you stated grabbing a cotton ball with a pair of tweezers “I’m just going to clean it up and heal it ,” you said, your voice shaking a bit. Jason could only muster a hum as you placed a tiny amount of alcohol into his wound. He winced at the sting, but it didn't seem to bother him that much, especially with how gently you touched his face. 

Both of you fell into an uncomfortable silence, not knowing what to say, faces a bit too close to each other, entering in panic mode. Yet Jason built up enough courage as he whispered a faint “Your voice is so beautiful.” You couldn't help but look into his blue eyes, eternally getting lost in those precious sky-blue irises. Your faces got closer slowly, instinctively, as if it was the only way to respond. Trying to wrap your head around the boy's words truly left you speechless. But life decided to ruin this perfect moment as you heard someone speak. 

“I need some help with some Ares kids,” Will said standing there, clearly seeing he had interrupted something. “Right,” you responded brushing off nonexistent dust from your camp shirt and looking back at Jason. “Your wound should feel better now, let me know if it doesn't,” you said, all giddy at the thought of him coming back. He just nodded shyly, trying to say anything as you walked closer to Will but ultimately stayed silent. 

“Your voice is so beautiful, marry me Y/N” mocked Will as both of you walked towards the other side of the infirmary, punching his stomach, “Shut up” you whispered. Gods, Jason Grace might just be the death of you. 

[matchaverse]

HC: now hear me out… each driver being a different greek god/goddess.. like for example:

oscar = Apollo: Olympian god of music, poetry, art, oracles, archery, plague, medicine, sun, light and knowledge.

lando = Hypnos: the god of sleep. (this is one is kinda funny since lando can fall asleep anywhere).

charles = Eros: God of love and desire.

max = Nike: Goddess of victory.

logan = Poseidon: God of the sea, earthquakes and horses

lewis = Hebe: Goddess of eternal youth.

sergio = Enyo: Minor goddess of war and destruction

carlos = Aphrodite: Goddess of love and beauty (and war).

george = Hestia: goddess of the hearth, home, architecture, domesticity, family, and the state.

fernando = Hermes: God of trade, thieves, travelers, sports, athletes, and border crossings, guide to the Underworld and messenger of the gods

yuki = Hephaestus: God of fire, blacksmith and craftsmen.

lance = Tyche: Goddess of prosperity and fortune.

nico = Peitho: Greek goddess of persuasion and seduction.

kevin = Deimos: God of fear, panic and terror.

daniel = Caerus: Minor god of opportunity, luck and favorable moments.

esteban = Momus: God of satire, mockery, censure, writers and poets and a spirit of evil-spirited blame and unfair criticism.

alexander = Dionysus: An Olympian god of the grape harvest, winemaking and wine, of ritual madness, religious ecstasy and theatre.

zhou = Themis: the Titan goddess of divine law and order.

pierre = Pheme: Goddess of fame, gossip and renown.

valtteri = Cybele: The Greek goddess of caverns, mountains, nature and wild animals.

now this is just MY opinion on the topic, if anyone has suggestions please feel free to share. i would love to hear your thoughts.

(i might or might not be thinking of doing an f1 x percy jackson type story)

[genshin-impact-updates]

Happy Birthday, Kujou Sara!

You're here. Please, come in, I'm just finishing my daily archery practice.

*huff* Two more to go and I'm done, just a moment.

Why must I shoot all five arrows, you ask? Because I believe five arrows in the target brings good luck.

This way, when we set off together in a bit, a swift victory will surely be ours no matter what comes in our way.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 3)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2

Katniss and Peeta have it out during dinner. Bickering over who has a better chance of winning. Asking to be trained separately after that. It is an odd thing to get heated about and Haymitch is intrigued.

“We’ll explore that later,” he decides as the kids leave the table.

Effie tries her hand at small talk. “Tomorrow the tributes will be assessed. How are you feeling about that? I, for one, am hopeful that we might see a victor!”

“I feel like I need a refill.” Haymitch grunts, leaning up from his seat to reach the bottle, “and I feel like you,” he looks to his wife, “need a little bit of the good stuff to take the edge off.” He dumps the contents of her glass onto the floor, replacing it with the malt liquor of his choice.

“I’m going to bed.” Y/N pushes away from the table.

“Don’t be like that, angel.” Haymitch reaches out, catching her around the waist and pulling her against his side.

Y/N smooths a hand over his hair. “It’s been a long day, I’m tired.”

Haymitch begrudgingly releases his hold. “Go.”

“Night, Effie.” The woman waves in parting.

Effie clears her throat, “goodnight.” These people are awfully temperamental.

Y/N returns to her room, making for the tablet on the nightstand. Clicking open her files for Katniss and Peeta in turn. Adding archery and strength to their lists of abilities, then moving onto weaknesses, scribbling in at the top ‘uncontrolled rage and each other?’

Y/N opens that file last; the one where she jots down kind words for the tribute’s families. How they touched her life, how they made a difference in this world and will continue to do so. With the promise that they will live on in their hearts and hers, forever.

When she was reaped, a lifetime ago, Haymitch hadn’t been warm and fuzzy. Though he’d gone to the quarter quell with her maternal aunt. Allied with her to get to the top five, even held her hand as she died, Haymitch can’t bring himself to do much more than drink himself into a stupor.

“What exactly do you want me to do, girl?”

“I want you to help us!”

He’d left Y/N and her district partner, high and dry.

“Help you?” Haymitch laughs, “I can’t help you.” He couldn’t save Maysilee then, he can’t save Y/N now. He wonders if this is still part of his punishment for the force field, cruel and unusual in it’s crafting.

Even after she wins, set up in the house beside his in victor’s village, Haymitch still won’t speak more than a few words to her. That is until the next reaping rolls around.

“Aren’t you coming with me?” Y/N asks.

Back to the Capitol, back to hell.

“Think I’m gonna sit this one out. You’re due to take one for the team, right? I was a shit mentor anyhow. Not you though, you’ll be good.”

She isn’t good. All of sixteen marching a couple of thirteen year olds to their final resting place. Y/N is inconsolable upon her return, mailing letters to the families of the fallen tributes from twelve and shutting out the world.

Her mother, who’s struggled with a morphling addiction most of Y/N’s life, is worse now. Her father, the mayor, makes his best efforts to shield his daughters from it. They do what they can to support Y/N through her victory and the transition to her new life, all to no avail.

In the end there is only one person Y/N wants to comfort her, the only one who understands. She has a new respect for Haymitch after that. There is no pain in the world like this.

It takes three years, three years before she marches up to his door on reaping day and pounds against it, hard. “You’re coming with me.” Gone is the child she was, a woman standing in her place.

“And why would I do that?” Haymitch smirks, leaning heavily against the door frame.

“Because I need you.”

Slowly, they became friends. Haymitch was happy to be whatever, whatever she needed him to be.

She folds the tablet back in it’s case, feeling tears prickle at the back of her eyes. Crying is useless, she learned that sometime ago. Not a single outcome changed or a life saved with tears. Only knowledge and fact driven perseverance can do that. Yet she is more man than machine and sometimes sadness wins.

The door of their suite hums to life. Y/N tries, in vain, to hide the evidence; her moment of weakness.

“You know, you,” Haymitch stumbles in, pointing a finger at her, “have become highly predictable.” Going to bed with him or after him is the norm. Means she’s fine, maybe not great, but she’ll tough it out. Going to bed before him is nothing short of a cry for help. She’s reached her limit. Haymitch knew she was getting there, that’s why he offered the drink.

Y/N heaves in a breath, “don’t say I told you so.”

“Fine, but I did tell you so,” he frowns. For all his flaws, Haymitch does love her and hates that she’s in pain.

She opens her hand to accept the little blue pill in his palm, it’ll put her out for a few hours of much needed sleep. Y/N swallows it dry, forcing it down her throat.

“Lie down,” Haymitch jerks his chin toward the pillows. Pulling back the covers to tuck her in, his wife’s eyelids already heavy.

She babbles out a bit of nonsense, her tongue like lead. Not heeding her command.

“We can argue all day tomorrow.” He promises, soothing her to sleep with her hand in his. Peppering kisses to her knuckles as she loosens her grip. “Sweet dreams.”

————————————————————————

“So besides the bow, what else can you do?” Y/N asks Katniss, prepared to take notes.

“Might help if you look at me.”

“Hmm?” The woman snaps her head up.

“If you’re analyzing me for the next kids, it might help to look up every now and again.”

“I wasn’t-”

“You were.” Katniss cuts her off, with finality. “We’re all numbers to you anyway.”

Y/N offers a smile as she sets the tablet down. “You want my attention, you have it.”

“Don’t talk to me that way.”

“What way?”

“Like I’m a child,” Katniss furrows her brow.

“You are a child,” Y/N retorts. “I know you don’t want to be here and all that anger has to go somewhere.” She pushes off the training room bench and onto the mats. “Show me what you can do.”

The brunette charges her mentor, prepared to tackle her to the ground; only Y/N moves at the last second. Leaving Katniss face down on the ground. This only fuels her fire, she grabs Y/N’s ankle, tugging her off balance.

They carry on like this for a long while, ending with the pair covered in sweat, sprawled out on the mats.

“How can you do this?” Send kids off every year to fight and die. “You’re a mother.”

“I do this because I’m a mother,” Y/N whispers. “You’re not numbers to me, Katniss. You’re people. Who deserve to be treated with love and compassion, given access to every shred of useful information I have. That’s why I document everything. So I never forget.”

Katniss sees her then, as if for the first time.

Peeta finds them. “It’s time to switch,” he says.

Haymitch is waiting to help Katniss prep for the interviews and Peeta will now be…doing whatever this is.

Katniss musters the strength to drag herself away, glancing back at Y/N from the door. “Put that in my notes. Tell my sister I fought.”

————————————————————————

“As you know, the tributes are rated on a scale of one to twelve, after three days of careful evaluation.” Caesar narrates from the television.

Effie, Portia, Cinna, Peeta and Katniss have all joined the victors on the pristine white settee. Y/N slides forward to the edge, while Haymitch sinks back into the cushions. Feeling the familiar squeeze and release of her fingers against his knee as the results are displayed.

District twelve is last, the anticipation rises like bile in Y/N’s throat. The careers score nines and tens, the others a mix of fives through eights. Thresh, of district eleven pulled a nine, his partner Rue follows with a seven. Best of luck, sweet girl.

“From district twelve, Peeta Mellark; with a score of…eight.”

Portia gasps in delight, “Peeta!”

“Excellent.”

“An eight.” Y/N bumps his shoulder.

“We can work with that.”

“Bravo.”

Peeta smiles, relaxing marginally at the news.

“And finally, from district twelve, Katniss Everdeen; with a score of…eleven.”

“Eleven?!”

“I thought they hated me.” After she shot at their pig and all.

“They must have liked your guts.”

Cinna raises a toast. “To Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire!”

Part 4

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @officialjellydoughnut @whoreforfictionalpeople @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k

[doodle-pops]

Lords of Gondolin | Dating Reader Who Has PTSD

Request: Headcanons on how the lords of Gondolin would support an SO with PTSD? (Assuming it’s from childhood, not only war, tho that’s probably true for most of middle earth by the fourth age LOL.) - Anon

A/N: I decided to make the request ambiguous, not specifying where the trauma came from and the type, and focused on how they would care for you as a survivor. So you, the reader, can decide the type of trauma.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Galdor

Galdor would be exceptionally patient and understanding, offering a steady presence that is always there to listen. He would never push you to talk about your trauma, always waiting for you to open up when you were ready.

His strong, comforting presence would often be felt in the form of gentle touches—a hand on the back, a warm embrace, or simply holding hands. He would use his physical presence to convey safety and support.

He’s aware that nighttime can be particularly daunting for someone with PTSD, Galdor would stay awake, watching over you to ensure you felt safe. Furthermore, he would often wake you from nightmares with soothing words and a calm demeanour.

As someone with a gentle touch and soul, he would create a safe space for you, meticulously arrange your living quarters or design a new wing in the estate to become a haven of peace and tranquillity.

Galdor would engage in activities that can help you to feel more grounded and present, such as gardening, walking through nature or a secluded section of the garden made for you, or crafting. He would even suggest special blends of herbs and incense to ease your nerves.

He would also encourage you subtly, helping you to engage in social situations and daily activities without feeling overwhelmed or alienated. He knows the fine balance between encouragement and pressure.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Ecthelion

Known for his musical prowess, Ecthelion would use his skills to soothe you. he would play soft, calming melodies on his flute, creating an environment of peace and tranquillity.

Thel would be incredibly attuned to your emotional needs, offering a shoulder to cry on and always ready with a comforting word. His empathetic nature would make him a perfect confidant.

He would often remind you of your safety, providing gentle reassurance when you feel anxious or triggered. His calm voice would be a constant source of comfort.

You can always count on his protective instincts to be heightened, always ensuring that your environment is secure. He would be super vigilant in keeping potential triggers at bay, creating a bubble of safety around you.

Thel would introduce you to mindfulness and relaxation techniques, guiding you through breathing exercises and meditation to help manage your stress and anxiety. He would even block off an area in his estate to construct a pool or fountain just for you to have your peaceful, meditative, alone moments.

Reading is something to expect with Ecthelion on evenings. He would choose stories that are both engaging and soothing, helping you to relax and feel a sense of comfort before sleep.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Glorfindel

Glorfindel’s physical would be a source of comfort, often holding you close, wrapping you in his arms or swaddling you in tons of blankets to make you feel safe. His physical presence would be a barrier against fear.

He does understand the need for distraction, so you can count on him taking you on gentle adventures—exploring nature, riding horses, or simply walking under the stars. These activities would help ground you in the present.

Given his extensive experiences and warrior background, Glorfindel would encourage you to learn self-defence or archery, empowering you to feel in control and capable of protecting yourself. This would be done with patience and care, ensuring it’s a positive experience.

Praising and encouragement are a thing to expect of him as well. Small victories would be celebrated, reinforcing your progress with positivity and encouragement. His enthusiasm would be infectious, lifting your spirits.

He would also use his experiences to share tales of heroism and bravery, drawing parallels to your own strength and resilience. You can bet his stories would serve as inspiration as a reminder of your inner power.

You can always count on his loyalty to be unwavering as he stands by your side through your struggles, reinforcing the fact that you are never alone.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Egalmoth

With his keen emotional intelligence, Egalmoth would express his empathy towards your needs intuitively. He would know when to give you space and when to offer comfort without being told.

We all know that Egalmoth does have a playful and childish side to him, so you can expect to come home one day and learn that he constructed an entirely new wing on the grounds just for you to have a safe space. Plus, it will be filled with all your favourite scented candles, flowers, colours and any other personal mementoes.

He is capable of expressing gentle communication, non-intrusive and always asking how you feel and what you need. Your emotional safety will always be prioritised above all others.

He may not have expressed himself as an eloquent musician like Ecthelion, but Egalmoth can still whip up a tune or request musicians to visit and play something soft or tell light-hearted tales accompanied by background music. Something to bring an extra smile to your face.

Expect him to be consistent and a reliable presence whom you can depend on no matter what. His reliability would be a cornerstone of your sense and safety.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Rog

Rog’s unwavering strength would be a pillar of support for you. He would be your rock, providing a sense of stability and security that they can always rely on.

He would engage you in physical activities that help release stress and tension, such as sparring, hiking, or working out together. These activities would also serve to strengthen your bond.

Note that Rog would have a straightforward and direct approach to dealing with PTSD, addressing issues head-on but with great sensitivity. He would always be honest, fostering trust through transparency.

He would understand that sometimes words aren’t necessary and that offering comfort through silent companionship is better. Just his simple presence, holding hands, or sitting together would be enough.

At nighttime, Rog would be incredibly attentive, holding you through your nightmares, whispering soothing words, and ensuring they feel safe until they fall back asleep.

He would focus on empowering and encouraging you to take small steps towards overcoming your fears, always there to catch you if you falter. You can’t possibly go wrong with him at your side.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Maeglin

Maeglin’s own experiences with trauma would give him a deep understanding of your struggles, and he would use this empathy to connect with you on a profound level. His approach would be full of patience and deep understanding.

Comfort in quiet ways would be provided since he prefers quiet moments, such as reading together, sharing a meal, or simply sitting in silence. His presence would be a calming influence.

Maeglin would encourage you to express your emotions through creativity, whether it be writing, drawing, or crafting. He would often join in, creating alongside you. You might be surprised that he finally teaches you how to craft and bring you along to the workshop with him.

His protective instincts would be heightened, always ensuring your environment is safe and free from triggers. He would be vigilant, always looking out for potential sources of distress.

Maeglin would take the time to understand your specific triggers, helping and teaching you how to avoid them whenever possible and helping you to navigate your daily life with minimal stress. If certain triggers can’t be avoided, he’ll make your environment a safe space.

He would also gently encourage you to confront your fears at your own pace, always offering a hand to hold and a reassuring word. His support would be steadfast and unwavering.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster @elficially-done-with-life @hermaeuswhora @eunoiaastralwings @zheiya

[songs-of-the-east]

Poland's Muslim Lipka Tatars

Lipka Tatars are Poland's only remaining Indigenous Islamic group. Many of the Polish Tatars belonged to the Polish nobility historically and through out history have been one of the most loyal groups to the Polish state; also having had an influence on the general Polish culture.

Noted for their skills in archery and horse riding, they have been viewed as some of Poland's greatest warriors in the past. Their combat was essential in Poland's victory over the Ottoman Empire during the Battle of Vienna. This fact is contrary to recent western nationalist propaganda, stating that the war was a battle between Christendom and the Islamic world, rather than a war of imperialism. After the war King Jan Sobieski III granted the Lipka Tatars large pieces of land in the Podlasie region of Eastern Poland.

Their origins are in predominately male Crimean Tatars and other settlers from the Golden Horde, who relied on intermarriage with Christian women, leading to early partial assimilation and adoption of Slavic languages. However, they were able to keep their identity and parts of their culture through their ties to Islam. Regardless, over the centuries more and more Tatars were absorbed into the Polish-Lithuanian Common wealth's Catholic and Orthodox populations, with estimates in the 18th century stating that up to 25% of Muslims converted to Christianity- partially motivated by violent peasant drawback due to the privileges bestowed onto them. Eventually this absorption reached its height during the inter-war and post-World War II period of Poland, in part due to assimilative policies. These days most Lipka Tatar descedants simply identify as ethnic Poles, with many Poles not aware of their ancestry. A prominent example of this is Polish-American personality Martha Stewart who only recently discovered that she is of partial Lipka Tatar ancestry, after partaking in a television program dedicated to geneaology.

[jankwritten]

Jasico Bingo Challenge: Cuddles

“I wouldn’t call that cuddling,” Nico says, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “I would call it sitting near one another.” 

Across the infirmary, awaiting medical attention from the busy Apollo kids, Annabeth rolls her eyes. “He had his arm around you.” 

“You put your arm around me all the time,” Nico rebuts. 

“You were leaning on him!” 

“I was tired!” 

Annabeth slumps sideways in her cot and stares at him, unimpressed. 

Nico refuses to budge. Cuddling is not resting your head on someone when they offer to let you nap on them! Cuddling is, like, prolonged, sideways hugging, or something. He and Jason do not cuddle, and even if they did (which they do not!) they wouldn’t do it at the campfire, for Hera’s sake. 

“Fine,” Annabeth concedes without averting her intimidating gaze. “What about when you two took a nap under Thalia’s Pine? That was definitely cuddling.” 

Heat rises up to Nico’s ears. He turns around to face the countertop, littered with empty bandaid packaging and unportioned nectar. “It was not, and you’re weird for remembering that.” 

“You’re weird for refusing to admit you like cuddling with Jason,” Annabeth says. She’s long since perfected that I’m right, you’re wrong, shut up tone, the one that makes Nico bristle. 

“How does that make me weird?” he grumbles, slicing even squares into the pan of nectar. “I spent the last, like, four years of my life doing everything I could to avoid human contact. How is it weird that I wouldn’t want to admit to something like that.” 

For a few moments, Nico almost mistakes Annabeth’s silence for a victory. He finishes with the nectar and turns back around, ready to gloat and everything, and is instead met with the worst possible thing: Annabeth Chase wearing her planning face. 

“No,” he says immediately, putting a hand out, as if he can physically ward off whatever bullshit he’s about to get dragged into. “No.” 

“I think we need an outside opinion.” 

“I think you’re concussed, do not go spreading my personal business to camp!” 

“Not camp,” Annabeth flaps her hand at him, and does not refute the concussed accusation. “But definitely some trusted individuals, who have insight into your cuddling habits.” 

“I’m not above getting on my knees and begging you to drop this,” Nico says. He’s fully serious. He will do it. Anything to stop this from going any further, anything. 

Annabeth glances him up and down, like she’s sizing up how serious he might be. 

He clasps his hands together. 

She flops back in the cot. “Nope. I’m too invested now. I think I’ll ask Hazel, first-” 

“Dude-” 

“-and then Connor, he knew you when you were a baby, he’ll have some good insight.” 

Nico buries his face in his hands and groans. 

Annabeth Chase gets her concussion treated, then turns around and runs back to her cabin to draft an honest to the gods survey to hand out to what she deems as a trusted, reputable group. 

Any group with Connor Stoll and Percy Jackson in it is anything but reputable, in Nico’s mind. As soon as he hears that Annabeth’s really gone off the freaking deep end about this, he finds the darkest corner of camp and hunkers down to hide. 

The best thing to do when Annabeth’s got an idea? Weather it. She’ll either find her own solution, or she’ll lose interest. Nico hopes, for his reputation's sake, she doesn’t get any further than the distribution. 

Upside to this shitshow: Nico has time to clean his cabin, finally. A valid reason to tell Will that he genuinely cannot come do archery practice today, a valid reason to kick any and everyone off his porch, lock his doors, and play CDs on his radio as loud as he can tolerate. 

It is, unfortunately, one of his most productive days as of late, and as Nico lays on his newly-swept floor, sweaty but satisfied, he almost forgets the whole situation occurring at the hands of one stubborn daughter of Athena. 

Almost. 

“Nico?” 

Three knocks on the cabin door. 

“I can hear your music, I know you’re in there. If you want me to go away, that’s totally fine, I just- y’know, want to make sure you’re okay. I’ll leave you alone in a minute.” 

Nico rolls over, squishing his face into the hardwood for one deeply satisfying moment. Then, with all the reluctance of a man who is going to face embarrassment head on, he pulls himself up and trudges to the door. 

Jason, at the very least, has the decency to look worried rather than amused. He’s got his hands in the pockets of his shorts, his head tilted off to the side, his glasses off-center like they always are. He’s frowning, kind of. He looks like Mrs. O’Leary when Nico tricks her into thinking he’s got a treat for her. 

“I’m alive,” he says, as dry as he can manage. The CD skips. 

“That’s good,” Jason says. “I, uh, hear Annabeth’s keeping herself occupied.” 

Nico’s temple pulses with something not-quite-achey, but nearly there. 

“Just- come in,” he huffs, stepping aside. Dammit. “If anyone’s going to explain it, I would really rather rip the stupid bandaid off.” 

“Laughing at me feels kind of insulting, going to be honest,” Nico mutters while Jason hunches over himself, cradling his stomach, downright howling. 

“She’s- She’s up in arms- about cuddling!?” 

“I don’t know! I don’t know, Percy’s stupid bullshit is rubbing off on her and she’s losing braincells, Jason, she’s losing her mind. We need to find something new for her to build so she stops trying to instigate shit in my private life!” 

Jason slumps sideways onto the floor, half-laughing, half-panting. His leg presses solidly to Nico’s like this, sitting side by side against his bed. 

Nico turns his head up and away and forces himself not to notice. 

“She just cares about you,” Jason says. He stays down. Nico can practically feel how hard Jason’s heart is pumping from all that laughter. 

Jerk. 

“She cares about drama,” Nico says, though he knows it’s not totally true. Piper has gotten her more involved in the social life of camp, which is a good thing, really. Nico thinks it’s really cool that Annabeth has been able to come out of her own shell, after spending her whole life trying to prove herself, trying to be above everything, better than, the best. 

But does she have to do it at his expense? 

He rubs his hands over his face and sighs. 

Jason sits back up. 

“Are you really that upset about this?” he asks, his voice softened into a tone Nico got used to hearing in the days post-Cupid, the tone of a hero. “I know it’s still hard for you, to be comfortable and everything-” 

“I’m not upset about it,” Nico says. Admitting it makes his cheeks flush, but it’s the truth, and Jason has more than earned that with him. “I’m just…embarrassed.” 

“Awe, why’s it embarrassing? I mean, I get from your perspective, y’know, why you might find that embarrassing, but even if taking naps and stuff is cuddling, it’s not like it’s hurting anything,” Jason says. Then, softer, maybe hesitant, he adds, “right?” 

Nico’s heart tugs annoyingly into his ribs. “It’s not hurting anything, Jason, I’m not…I don’t know. I just feel a lot of things, I guess? And it’s a lot of, like, I-I don’t know how to react, when people poke fun at something I’m still- still getting comfortable with. I like being comfortable with you.” He pokes at the rips in his jeans and continues to ignore how much of Jason is pressed up against his side, how natural it feels to just sit with him like this. 

“I like that you like being comfortable with me,” Jason says, his own version of teasing, though one that Nico knows and understands and likes. He knows that Jason’s reassuring him by prodding at him like that. 

The next track on his CD starts to play—Jason turned the volume down, but didn’t shut it all the way off. They’re both too awkward in pure silence, but sitting together when there’s other background noise that means they don’t necessarily have to talk has become a staple of their hang-outs. There’ve been many an afternoon where Nico sets up on the floor of the Zeus cabin with his new, growing Mythomagic collection, while Jason sketches out temples at his desk. 

They’re so comfortable around one another, nowadays. 

Nico brings his knees up and nestles his chin on them, frowning at the opposite wall. 

Are they maybe too comfortable? If other people are starting to look at them interacting and put weird labels like cuddling on it? Isn’t cuddling something people who like each other do, anyway? Friends don’t cuddle. 

Nico feels his ears burn hot at the implication. Is that what Annabeth was trying to say? Does she think Nico likes Jason? 

He brings his arms up to cover his mouth. He chews on his lip. 

…does, Nico like Jason? 

 (to be continued)