#ask executive archer

[perelka-l]

When you both are in a shitty situation and can't even get up and are waiting for someone to arrive (whoever it is, really) and one of you has cigs and other access to fire so you just. Kinda chill for a moment. Like, it's just once, it should be fine, you can forget about it later.

[askexecutivearcher]

Ya fat

I hope that got through your head in case my bullet doesn't happen to get you faster.

[tabrisangel]

HIS SHOES R ORANGE (kindof. a little bit.)

i imagined them as all orange but. anyway you were so right

YESSS THAT ROCKS ok I did not expect them to be orange and white though. i expected black and orange. either way this rocks he looks so goooood

[priscirat]

idk if you were there for it, but wolf shiho reveal was insane...

anyways if leo/need saw wolf shiho how do u think they would react

i was in the Suburbs of the fandom bc my bestie is prsk's cousin (bandori) so i did see some ripples of it :')

i think saki would 100% make a furry bit. ichika would ask so many questions about what its like to be half wolf and completely forget that its a costume and honami would pat her head Once and it would enable everyone else to do so. (they all really like it)

[sunkissed-zegras]

★ FANGIRLING ─── PB⁵ ft. UCONN WBB MANAGER

❪ requested -> "r is nicknamed the archer bc her shooting accuracy goes crazy and whenever she makes a big three she does like a quick celebration making a bow and arrow motion and when she goes up against uconn she points and winks to paige after bc she was assigned to guard her. post-game, an interviewer asks paige how she feels abt r and she basically rants abt how cool she is - her energy, skills, etc like a fangirl moment. later the same interviewer asks r the same question and r does the literal exact same thing paige did. interviewer tells r what paige said and r lowk flirts w her thru an interview ykwim?" ❫ for my disco nonnie!!!!!

─ pairing | paige bueckers x fem!reader

─ warnings | just some banter and flirting, nothing else!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my wcbb masterlist!

"AND THERE SHE GOES again, folks, Y/N L/N with yet another remarkable display of skill! This basketball prodigy seems to have an innate sense of the game, weaving through defenders with unmatched precision."

Your teammate patted you on the back as you jogged back to your position on the court, a grin of satisfaction spreading across your face. The crowd's roar filled the arena, echoing the excitement of your electrifying performance.

You were breathless and excitement was coursing through your veins ─ these moments reminded you why you loved the game so much. Paige quickly jogged up in front of as she guarded you, but you stayed focus. There was a smile on your face (and not the cocky, self-satisfied kind), but one that reflected the pure joy of playing the game you adored.

Paige's intense defense didn't faze you; if anything, it fueled your determination even more. You were focused, your eyes locked on the hoop as you dribbled, feeling the rhythm of the game pulsing through your veins. With a swift step-back move, you created just enough space between you and Paige, giving you the perfect opportunity to unleash your shot.

With a flick of your wrist, the ball left your fingertips, soaring through the air in a perfect arc. Time seemed to slow down as you watched it sail toward the basket, every nerve in your body tingling with nervousness.

And then, with a satisfying swish, the ball found its mark, dropping cleanly through the net. The crowd erupted into cheers, the sound washing over you like a wave of euphoria.

"And there she goes, folks, L/N with nerves of steel, sinking a jaw-dropping three-pointer right in the face of intense defensive pressure! That was pure finesse, a display of skill that leaves us all in awe. Despite UConn's relentless defense, L/N stayed cool, calm, and collected, executing a flawless step-back move to create just enough space for the shot.

The precision of that shot was nothing short of remarkable, the ball leaving her fingertips with perfect form and trajectory. And when it dropped cleanly through the net, the crowd erupted into a deafening roar of approval.

And that is another reminder of why she is nicknamed the Archer, in case you needed any further confirmation! L/N's ability to hit those long-range shots with pinpoint accuracy is truly unparalleled. It's like she's wielding a bow and arrow out there on the court, picking off her targets with deadly precision."

You jogged back to your position as Paige shook her head, more in amusement rather than genuine hurt. You could see the grin on her face and you couldn't help but wink her direction, Paige shaking her head, her grin widening as she acknowledged your wink.

──

"Paige, tough game out there tonight. What are your thoughts on your opponent, Y/N L/N?" The reporter asked, microphone in hand, ready to capture Paige's post-game reflections.

Paige let out a nervous laugh as she shook her head, her gaze shifting toward the table. "Well uh, first of all, she was absolutely insane. Like, absolutely jaw-droppingly amazing," the reporters in room laughed at her description, causing Paige's lips to quirk up into a smile.

"Just being around someone who not only uh, plays fair but has genuine love for basketball was just… refreshing, you know?" Paige's voice took on a tone of genuine admiration as she spoke. "Y/N's energy on the court is infectious, and it pushes everyone around her to step up their game."

Paige paused, collecting her thoughts before continuing. "And that move she pulled off in the second quarter? I swear, it was like she had eyes in the back of her head. I thought I had her boxed in, but she just... slipped right through my defense like it was nothing."

"And don't even get me started on that three-pointer," she added with a chuckle. "I mean, who sinks a shot like that under that kind of pressure? It was... impressive, to say the least."

Paige paused, a fond smile playing on her lips. "She's not just a great player, she's a true ambassador for the game. And let me tell you, it was an honor to share the court with her tonight."

"Aww, that was a sweet moment. It looks like despite the loss, you still got to take something out of it." The reporter smiled before glancing down at the paper, "Okay, next question. What adjustments do you think your team needs to make moving forward in the season?"

──

"Y/N! Great game out there tonight. What are your thoughts on your opponent, Paige Bueckers?" The reporter asked, a smile on her face as your eyes widened.

You laughed. "She was amazing! I mean, her performance was out of this world. And uh, don't tell coach but I've definitely binged her highlights a couple times before."

"Oh! So you're a huge fan of her and her skills?" The reporter continued.

You chuckled, a sheepish grin spreading across your face. "Yeah, you could say that. I mean, who wouldn't be? Paige is just... incredible. The way she moves on the court, her vision, her shot-making ability — it's all top-notch."

As you spoke, you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. "I have so much respect for Paige and what she brings to the game. Playing against her tonight was a real honor, and I definitely learned a thing or two from watching her in action."

The reporter's smile widened at your genuine praise for your opponent. "That's great to hear! It's always refreshing to see female athletes appreciating each other's talents. Do you think facing off against someone like Paige pushes you to elevate your own game?"

"Definitely," you replied without hesitation. "When you're up against players of Paige's caliber, you know you have to bring your A-game. It pushes you to dig deeper, to push past your limits, and to strive for greatness. So yeah, facing off against someone like Paige is not only a challenge, but it's also an opportunity to grow as a player."

"That's funny because Paige said the same thing about you," the reporter chuckled as you felt warmth rush to your face. "You guys are both fangirls, it's just adorable to see."

The room erupted into laughter as you shook your head in amusement, trying to distract your mind from the way your stomach jumped at the prospect of Paige fangirling about you.

"Well, I guess great minds think alike, huh?" you replied with a playful grin, hoping to deflect some of the attention away from your blushing face. "If Paige ever wants to go play sometime, my dms are always open for a talented player like her."

The reporter laughed as she shook her head. "Feeling a little confident after the win?"

You laughed, your cheeks still tinged with warmth from the unexpected compliment from Paige. "Well, I wouldn't say no to a friendly game of one-on-one with her," you replied with a smirk.

The room erupted into laughter at your playful banter, the tension from the intense game slowly melting away.

"And who knows," you added with a wink, "maybe we'll both learn a thing or two from each other on the court."

The reporter chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Maybe off the court, too?"

"I mean," you put your hands up as the reporter laughed. "I know what you're doing, Holly, and I'm not complaining."

"I call it how I see it," the reporter winked as she glanced down at the paper. "Moving on..."

──

Paige 💕 (paigebueckers) wants to send you a message.

I'm down for some friendly 1v1 😁 When are you in Connecticut?

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[groceryreceiptss]

𝐚𝐥𝐥'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 & 𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 | p.j.

percy jackson x reader | word count : 1.4k | requested

summary : though you were a skillful archer, you were an amateur when it came to dealing with a sword. while percy helped you trained for hours after lunch, he couldn’t help but fall in deeper with you, even though you’d probably never know it.

contains : my writing (again, warning). just fluff things <3 reader was implied as apollo's daughter, but never actually specified. oh, and a katniss everdeen reference! (because is the fic actually written by me if it doesn't include at least one thg reference?). let me know if there’s more!

a/n : i do NOT know how to write action-y scenes (even ones that are as light as this) so sorry if this comes out as flat haha. i had to get out my copy of the lightning thief just to be a tinny bit more familiar with it to be honest. also yes the title is kinda cheesy but soo is this entire fic < 3

credits : fan art by frostbite.studios, dividers by @benkeibear, pins i used (1) (2) (3)

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The afternoon sun hit the color of your eyes as you tried the move he had just demonstrated to you. Your eyebrows were furrowed in concentration and your forehead slicked with sweat. A borrowed but fitting sword was gripped in your hand, ready to clatter his. Percy and you had been going at it ever since lunch ended and yet you still seemed determined to keep going. 

Percy counted and you attacked, one, two, three. Next move, you tried to thrust it into the right of his protected ribcage. But with your lovely eyes being a little too obvious and your hand still clumsy with the blade, he deflected it off easily, letting yours fall to the ground. 

“Oh, I’m terrible,” you said with an embarrassed smile, pulling up your bronze helmet and dragging a hand to swipe your hair out of your forehead. You retrieved the sword and turned to ask him. “Okay, honest opinion. What did I do wrong?” 

“Well…” he started, as he took off his own helmet, tucking it under his arm, “Your eyes give away a bit too much to the opponent, so I could easily tell what you were going to do. You’re still too hesitant about it I think.” 

You playfully rolled your eyes, “Well, how can I not when my opponent at this given moment is Percy fucking Jackson but go on.” 

Percy was thankful that the sun was taking it one for the team and became a cover for the red that just possibly covered his face. He shook his head, fighting a smile that was trying to break through his lips. Joke about it, take defense.

The lines of his mouth morphed into a teasing grin. “Is that an excuse that I hear, miss y/l/n? Since when do you play with those?”  You were always so stubborn, in the best sense of the word. And Percy always found it admirable to say the least.

You raised your eyebrows before shooting back, “And if it is, it's also not unreasonable, Mr. Jackson.” That cute smile of yours taking flight in your face. He noticed that it was still the same one from when he first saw you at twelve, a few years back. Some things never changed. 

“What else?” You asked again, crossing your arms with the sword pointing downward. “Come on, don't be shy. I can take it.”

He considered it before answering. “Your hand wasn’t steady enough with the sword and with the move you were trying to execute. It made it a bit… off. And hard to get away in battles.”

You let yourself collapse to the ground with a dramatic sigh, exhaustion finally took over you. Your legs stretched in front of you and your helmet and sword clanged by your side. “Never mind, I lied, I can't take it."

He laughed and sat down next to you, putting his equipment by yours. The wind was finally picking up now, bringing a sense of balance to the hot weather.

"I can never get this right.” You huffed, blowing up your loosen hair, which Percy couldn't help but think that you looked slightly adorable.

“It’s totally fine,” he promised you, words creeped with encouragement. “Just be more confident! I swear it works. Or just…” he trailed off, unsure, and then shrugged. “don’t think about it too much, I guess.” 

“Contradiction, contradiction.” You said in a sing-song voice before looking at him with that inspecting face and said, “Do you drink some secret potion or something? Someone altered your ambrosia?”

Percy let out a laugh, “Your perception of me is unrealistically high, I see. I can say the same to you, Katniss Everdeen.”

Your face’s expression stretched with surprise before you nodded in approval. “That’s the best way to compliment my archery skills actually, yes. Forget Apollo the doofus.”

“Who?” Percy played in the joke, to which you answered with the only appropriate one : “Exactly.”

He clapped his hand, an idea forming in his head. "Alright, how about this. If you give it a try just one more time, I'll give you some blue cupcakes my mom just sent me a few days ago." He offered with a knowing smile, getting you too well to strike a tempting bargain with you.

Percy knew how in love you were with his mom's cupcakes. Sally Jackson made the best for the best. It had only taken one bite and he could already tell how head over heels you were with them. He might or might not be planning to try to make a batch himself as a surprise for your upcoming birthday, but he feared the baking talent of the greats did not pass onto him. These hands weren't only skilled in combat, but with a pair of mitts and an oven, they could also burn an entire kitchen down.

Still though. Seeing the way your eyes immediately lit up right now made him rethink his choices. Maybe burning down a room wasn't so bad. At least you would probably laugh at his pathetic attempt.

Your mouth split into a grin and he was brought back to the world. You shook your head in slight disbelief. "Bringing Mrs. Jackson cupcakes into this? You are not playing fair, Perce."

"That's a deal then?" He held out his hand for a shake.

You sighed, putting his hand in yours. "Fine, deal."

Percy tried to ignore the fireworks he felt as he gripped your hand tighter and pulled you up to stand. His heart felt like it was trying to push its way out of his ribs, but in a good way. Like a thrill.

"Alright, one more time," He said as he retrieved his sword and you retrieved yours. "You ready?"

"Honestly, I'm just doing this for the cupcakes now." Seriously, how much could one person make him smile in the span of five minutes?

You and Percy put on the helmets. He counted to three, and you started taking offense as he took defense. One, two, three. It all started out well. Your movements were still a bit clumsy, but you'd get better on it in no time, he was sure. And you were doing pretty good work too. That was until you were stepping back, trying to deflect his now offensive movements, and tripped over yourself. You fell to the hard ground with an oof.

Luckily, with your equipment still intact, you couldn't be hurt that much. But Percy immediately dropped riptide and got to your side.

He knew it was stupid. You and him were both warriors, you were good with a bow, he was good with a sword. Both of you had been injured multiple times in different kinds of battles, and yours had been more grotesque than his more than once, so this was absolutely nothing. Still, he guessed, the instinct to worry would just stay the same.

"Hey, are you okay?" He asked, as he gently pulled you up to a sitting position. His forehead was creased together as he looked at you, but you were instead laughing, finding your recent incident funny. "What?" He asked, couldn't help but let a laugh, albeit confused, out of his lips too. Yours were charmingly infectious.

You pointed at your face, your bronze helmet askew, voice still laced with traces of mirth. "Tell me, how silly do I look?"

He smiled, affection swarmed him. "Very silly," Should he risk it? "So silly, it's borderline annoyingly cute actually." Okay, risking it then.

But you just smiled, either welcoming it or oblivious to the actual meaning behind it. Probably the latter. You wouldn’t be convinced someone actually liked liked you even if it was plastered on a billboard. You pointed at his face, and laughed again, this time with an effort of covering your mouth. "You look so silly too, I'm sorry."

He shook his hand, bringing out a breath of laughter, unable to keep his smile from growing further under the protective gear. "Hey," he said, finally taking off his helmet and letting the wind touch his face. "It was in solidarity with you as a friend! Please appreciate it."

"I do!" You took off your helmet, letting the glow of the sun kiss your face again. Percy couldn't help but be entranced with the way you looked, still perfect even with the destroying searing weather of June. You couldn't keep doing this to him. "Sorry, I'll stop." You promised as you withdrew a laugh, but he actually wished you wouldn't. He loved hearing you laughed, it made the wind that danced around him a melodic thing, one he could be around forever—or whatever it was the poets said.

Looking at you made him understand what they were always talking and raving about, but he could never explain it.

"So," You began, "About those cupcakes?"

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[rheasonly1]

You were covered head to toe in walker blood after your run into the abandoned town a few miles from Alexandria. Your feet felt like they were about to fall off after repeatedly hitting the ground over and over again, until you stood outside the gates of your new found home. A big tired sigh escaped your throat after you lazily walked through.

As you entered the gates you saw people in every direction working hard to rebuild the walls of Alexandria after the whisperers’ vicious attack. You scanned the area until your gaze landed on the brunette archer who soon started walking over to you with a goofy smile on his face.

“Yer back.” He drawled sounding relieved. He embraced you into a warm hug caressing your back for a few moments before releasing you. You chuckled at his droopy smile and he grinned at you even more before grabbing your hand and walking you to the wagon he had been filling up with supplies for the next run.

“So soon?” You asked a bit disappointed.

He pressed his lips together firmly giving you a knowing look. You scrunched your nose not wanting to go back into the cold forest and having to trudge through the thick snow.

“it’s only for ‘few days, we’ll be back sooner than ya think.” He grumbled.

You nodded and gave him a faint smile. Holding his hands you realised how cold he was and only just noticed how much he was shivering. His nose was stained red along with his rosy cheeks and his skin was pale. You started rubbing your hands over his to try and warm him up. It was no use he was as cold as an icicle.

He sat down on a wooden fence huffing and kicking his feet at the ground before splaying out his legs like a petulant child. You stepped between his legs and started pulling out flakes of snow in his hair and flicking them on the ground. You looked at him as he lifted his head to look up at you with those bright blue eyes admiring you and yours right back at him.

The tips of his ears had turned red, you covered them with your hands cupping his head whilst stroking his hair with your thumbs. His hands traveled to the back of your thighs and he stroked them lovingly. Another huff escaped his throat and he dropped his head against your stomach humming to himself at the warmth coming from your body.

You started rubbing the tips of his ears between your fingers and massaging them warming them back up to circulate his blood flow. He nuzzled his head further into you rubbing himself against you like a cat he began purring. You let your fingers wonder to the top of his head giving him head scratches. He practically melted at your touch and that sent butterflies swarming in your stomach.

“I love ya.” He mumbled.

———————————————————————

Hiii I’m sorry I haven’t been writing anymore requests I’ve just felt unmotivated to write them at the moment (I was barely able to write this) and I don’t know if I will write them to be completely honest I’ve just been lurking on here reading other fics and stuff but still feel free to send requests

Also I thought this was a cute idea I don’t feel I executed it very well I feel someone else could’ve done way better 😭

[seneon]

SKETCHING SPIDERS ──── rayne ames x fem! reader.

about. whatever you draw on your skin, the same drawing will appear on your soulmate as well. ROYAL! AU. sfw + suggestive, reader's surname is archer, mentions of alcohol. wc of 3.2k.

notes. i'm experimenting. also first week of exams done i have math, business & accounting next week 😭😭

overcast clouds and the grey shades engulf the vast sky. you're seated in the royal room of a class for the children of nobles, fidgeting with a clean feather quill that was played by your fingers.

as usual, it is another boring day as an academic victim of the noble standards. in a classroom full of the descendants or the next heir of royal and noble families, they were all academically intelligent. for the future of their family, of course. that is no surprise, considering you have to study hard to maintain a good status in your family of nobles.

as the tutor continued to speak his mind out about philosophy or the sort, you looked around the classroom. for a high-class classroom, there sure is quite some dust in the high ceilings that nobody could reach up to.

you see many concentric circles woven by threads at the far corner, all meeting at one common centre. a genius idea then sprouted in your mind like the multi-legged creatures that created those corner ceiling webs.

the quill that you were just fiddling with became an item to use as your teacher rambled on and on about the stars and how to read them astrologically. you used it in a wiser way rather than write a bunch of fancy words into sketching. an act that only the royal artists could carry out.

first, you dipped your quill into the ink and lightly flicked the access ink off. then you lifted the sleeves of your lace coral pink dress, turning your left arm the other way. your seatmate, nora martin, watched in silence as her eyebrows scrunched in anticipation of what you were about to do with your lifted sleeves.

“what are you attempting to execute now, lady archer?” nora asked as you shot her a tiny smile. “just a teensy bit bored from mr. valac’s lessons. m’ gonna entertain myself.”

your seatmate, nora of the martin house, does not bat her eyelash or blink in your direction. this is common for her, just like buying groceries to cook.. or waking up to brush your hair with a wooden hairbrush made out of the best wood in the kingdom. she is used to your shenanigans, even if it meant to be a little bit rebellious during the process, such as dirtying your arm in boredom.

well either way, nobody is going to lift your sleeves to inspect your arm, for it is a crime in the law. at least, to people of nobility.

the ink does not easily dry on the surface of your arm, tainting your skin in a hue of black. the feather quill was quite ticklish too, sometimes it occasionally burns mildly against your skin as the tip of the feather drags along to create a small design with the ink.

once it dried, you showed nora your masterpiece. she actually fancied the result, thus praising how good you actually are at painting. for all that you know, your drawn masterpiece will not come off as easily as staining the tip of the quill in black ink.

it is going to be hard to wash it off. to wash the ink off.

“a spider?” kaldo gehenna asked as he inspected the drawing on the left arm of his subordinate. subordinate because the gehenna and the person he speaks to is of the same ranking in the military.

“how'd that appear?”

“i have no answer for you,” rayne ames, captain level replied as he too, inspected the mark that appeared on his arm. “i believe it appeared during the day.”

“i believe so too. i mean, you didn't have it when you dressed up this morning, did you?” kaldo placed his fingers in his chin, trying to find possible solutions as to where a random marking of a spider and a few strands of web marks came from. the military isn't one to have such markings.

now that it is night and it is time to rest and let loose if the days’ happenings, the ames undressed with his most trusted subordinate and the both of them are greeted with a marking of a spider on rayne’s arms.

the knights are only glad that they wore long sleeves. if it had been exposed, rayne was sure that his arm would be sliced off for having such a marking in his arm.

“i heard there is a legend where whatever your soulmate draws on her skin, it will appear on your skin too. perhaps your soulmate drew a spider on heir skin,” the other captain said as he shrugged.

“why in the world would my soulmate draw on her arm? is she a fool?”

once again, the gehenna shrugged and carefully kept his knightly gears back to where they belong. “perhaps she was feeling bored, just like you at today's assembly. two bored souls. you can try to draw something small on your arm to see if that does anything or not.”

left in a plain white button up t-shirt and his black pants, kaldo took his belongings and waved his subordinate good-bye. “well, i hope you find your soulmate soon. you really need some romance in your life, rayne.”

when the ames went home, all he could do was stare at the spider marking on his arms. the only explanation he could gather was that his soulmate clearly used the black ink for writing to draw the insect on her arm. she didn't even try to erase the parts where it went wrong, she just drew on it to create spider webs.

his stoic golden honey eyes that were locked onto the mere insect. fingers slowly tracing over the outlines of the spider legs and the webs behind it. he admits it, his soulmate is good at drawing. perhaps she is a painter, an artist. someone who comes from a lineage of working for the royal family in the line of art.

but if she is his soulmate, why has she drawn something now? why has she not been leaving any suspicious or interesting marks on his skin in his eighteen years of living? why only now, when he was just assigned to the role of a captain in the royal military?

whatever the case, rayne ames could only keep brushing his fingers against the mark that appeared out of mere thin air. he needed to find the cause of this random marking soon.

the fifteenth birthday of the royal prince, mash burnedead. of course his family of princes would host a royal birthday party for him. and of course, all nobles are to attend the young boy's birthday celebration.

so are you and your family. your parents, who stood among all the other noble adults as you stand beside them, their mouths never ending to boast about how well you do in your academics and how well you are in arts.

as if you were their little doll to ramble on and on, you simply stood there with a tiny smile, your fingers occasionally pulling up the elbow gloves so it wouldn't reveal a single speck of the spider drawing you drew just the day before the party.

you already knew it wasn't going to come off easily, considering the quality of the ink is strong enough to stain your white satin curtains for weeks before fully coming out. your parents had forgotten to inform you about the upcoming party of the prince too, making your arm more difficult to cover up since your silk elbow glove is on the shorter side.

“father, mother, if i may excuse myself to the restroom for a few moments?” you asked in a voice that sounded like it was a beg. you just wanted out from the ordeal of having to stand for hours and listen to your parents indirectly praising you while your mouth is kept shut with no place to allow your tongue to twist and turn.

“of course, dear! be back soon, alright?” your mother replied as you nodded and took your elegant bow at them and also at the other noblemen that were lending an ear to your parents.

it was all a simple lie to get you out of this pathetic situation and to escape to somewhere where you can have your own fun and enjoy your own time, whether it being alone or finding another fellow noble that you know off, preferably someone from your class.

your preferences led you outside the ballroom, where it is far from a huge crowd, but filled with people who prefer to be outside the ballroom.

“lady archer! over here!” the monotonous voice which you recognised called out to you as a hand fan waved in the air, signalling for you to journey your way through the hallways to where nora stood.

you made your way through the velvet carpet and curtsied at your friend, before doing so to the guests around her.

“this is noir martin, my idiotic brother of the military army and his friends of the military, lord kaldo gehenna and lord rayne ames,” nora introduced as you curtsied once again.

“they are looking for women to cheer their champagne to,” a horrified expression formed on your friend's face as she pointed her fan towards her elder brother. “especially this man.”

noir held his hands in the air for defense. “hey hey, little sister. it is normal for men who want to find a beautiful wife, isn't it?”

“not if you're a captain leading an army of hundreds of soldiers! they usually perish in battle like the strong mighty soldier they are, honouring their kingdom.”

the martins conversed in an argumentative conversation, kaldo occasionally joining in. while you stood beside nora, covering your left arm. if not, you'd keep pulling your elbow glove up.

it was no surprise that the attentive ames was silently observing you, a gorgeous noblewoman who will soon benefit to the future of the kingdom. the ames is to, one day, serve you, since you are an honoured ally of the royal family.

“oh uhm, i am quite anxious…” you averted his gaze, hands subconsciously moving to cover your arm as rayne's eyes followed your hands. “is there a problem with your arm? are you hurt?”

“you seem to be anxious,” rayne said.

that voice. the honeyed, yet silky voice almost no one in the military dares to defy. it was an addictively dangerous voice to the hearts and souls of many women.

“no! i’m not!”

there it was. the little sneaky spider legs that peeked out from the edge of your satin piece, though unknown to the people around. there was one person that knew about it though. he just happened to blink before he could see the leg peeking out.

“if you insist…” the knight slowly nodded, his hands travelling to the same arm that the spider appeared.

how odd. he's technically doing the same thing you are doing. it's just a different direction to what other humans in the hallways perceive.

“my name is rayne ames, captain of the royal military army. my brother finn goes to the royal academy too,” he bowed.

you did your part to introduce yourself as a proper lady. like any other proper gentleman, rayne took your hands in his and gave your knuckles a chaste kiss.

something he did to your fingers made you flutter on the inside. it was as if he invited butterflies into your body just by his lips touching the silk of your glove. it was no different for the kiss. he kept it chaste, but there was an unexplainable reason that tells you it wasn't just a gentleman gesture he was showing you.

well, the night went past with your newly made friend from the military who shared a mutual amount of laughs and jokes with you throughout the night. what could possibly go wrong?

“sir! there's a spider on your hand!” the voice of a knight exclaimed as rayne glanced at his hands, his eyes widening a little before he attempted to slap it away.

but it does not go away.

it stays.

just like the spider drawing that randomly appeared out of nowhere, completely fading after a few days. but now, a new mark appears. and a new accusation arises.

“could it be his soulmate!?”

“lord ames, perhaps your soulmate is nearby!”

“you fancy spiders, captain?”

the male slapped his palms against his forehead at the words of his soldiers. surely the mark has to appear at a strategy meeting where he is specifically pointing at other nations. there couldn't be a better timing where his hands weren't in the view of other people.

now his darling soulmate has to draw on her hand, close to her thumb, the same silly spider drawing again that appears as a temporary marking to the ames.

as if one time wasn't enough for the rayne to embarrass him and allow his comrades to lose focus of their goals— the marks appear at many other times in situations where he couldn't control. all over his arm.

one night he sat down at his armchair, surrounded by the crackling sounds of the fire. rayne took kaldo’s idea, dipping his feather into washable ink and wrote a stop drawing on your arm with his quill.

a mere simple no form. in response, rayne rolled his eyes, scoffing at how cocky the person on the other end is. he wanted to get this over with so his teammates would seal their mouth shut in the absence of a spider drawing randomly spawning on his skin.

it was hilarious, since it was only his left arm that received such a vulgar insect drawing. rayne gave up and put away his writing materials and went to slumber. he pray that the spider drawings would soon end and he would finally have peace in the army. and also to meet his soulmate who is so interested in spiders.

noir martin is officially wedded to a woman from the house of irvine, to a beautiful classmate of yours, lemon. and the world is to congratulate and celebrate the happiness of the newlywed.

“when am i be wedded to a handsome and strong man…” you muttered to yourself as you let out a sigh. “i could've sworn my soulmate wrote back to me.”

unfortunately your mutters were heard by rayne who stood beside you, serving as your escort for the day.

“oh? how do you already know your soulmate?”

“well. i draw. then he simply told me to stop drawing.”

rayne raised a brow. “if he's your soulmate, then why did he ask you to stop drawing?” in his mind, this soulmate of yours is an extremely selfish and rude man that doesn't deserve you at all.

“because i’m embarrassing him in front of his friends with my spiders.”

spiders.

“spiders?”

“spiders.”

his jaw slightly let loose. rayne couldn't focus on anything else other than to watch your lips move as you complained about your soulmate and spiders.

“my dearest lady y/n of the archer house,” the ames gently took your hand in his and bowed, remaining in his posture, he says, “may i commit a crime and steal you away for a few moments?”

spiders are your new favourite thing to draw now ever since that boring day in your philosophy lesson.

rayne just happened to the extra canvas.

a field of red roses tinted your cheeks red as you ceased the smile that threatened to surface.

“yes you may, lord ames.”

as you finished uttering your words, rayne took your hand to guide you through the huge and long halls of the martin estate. it was silent all the way and you felt nervous. as if there were thousands of spiders who slowly crawled up your back, giving you the chills yet the nervousness that embraced you.

he led you out the huge garden, never stopping until he reached the point where there were stone benches. being the gentleman he is, rayne told you to take a seat as he took off the white glove he wore on his left arm.

rayne took a seat himself, setting his gloves to the side. all while your eyes followed his actions, including the little mark that was just a bit above his pinky finger. you recognised that mark as you seemingly lit up upon seeing it.

“that's a—”

“spider.”

without hesitation, you took out your left arm’s glove. nobody is going to walk into the garden anyways, so it's safe to take off your glove. golden honey eyes immediately locking its gaze onto the same spider that was in the same exact position as the one on rayne's fingers.

“you’re my soulmate!” you exclaimed, gasping in the process.

the corner of rayne’ lips curved upwards a little as he nodded, his fingers tracing the spider that was imprinted on his fingers.

rayne ames is now tracing the undone spider sketches, smudging the ink all over your right thigh as you could feel his hot, ragged breath on your cheek. you faced the other way, your own breath heavy as you shifted in your position.

“trying to draw a spider on your thigh while i’m away on a mission by the king's orders tells me how much you miss me. how much you need me,” rayne said, his golden eyes staring into yours. “then you tried to sketch another in my presence, my lady. what are you trying to do?”

first of all, how did you get into this situation where both you are under the military captain as he cornered you?

long story short, you were out with your lady friends, and they were all drinking the night away. as your carriages came to pick you up and your lady-in-waiting cleaned you up after the night full of consuming the kingdom's finest alcohols, soberness left your mind.

the worst is the honoured son of the ames family arriving at your family's estate to give them an emergency visit. well you were not in a state to be speaking to guests, so you were kept in your room.

but rayne insisted on a visit to his beloved darling, and he too, ended up being drunk from the alcohol that you shoved into his mouth with the bottle that you sneaked in the house.

“i need you… and you need me too,” you muttered, lazy eyes scanning all over the white button up t-shirt that rayne wears. how it would be so easy to just tear them open right now.

“do i have you to myself?” rayne set his head at the crook of your neck, shifting up so his mouth comes in contact with your shoulders. the man slightly pulled down the lace sleeves, exposing your bare shoulders to him.

with rayne's lips on your shoulders, you hummed under your breath, resulting in a kiss.

“you are my woman. my soulmate, y/n.”

“forever yours,” you whispered into his ears as he continued to press chaste kisses onto your shoulder, his other hand leaving your sketched and messy thigh to snake it around your waist.

“i’m going to kiss you until those spiders all over your body are all messy. and you will do the same to me, darling.”

TAGS ★ @kyoghurts @caelivir @dragonictears @anqelically @hasumiis @raynesbunny @vash-yuu @sakireiz @futuristicxie @redlabelboom @ilovecandys2010

© SENEON 2024 ♰ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[nickeverdeen]

Whispers of the heart | Kit Tanthalos x fem!reader

The sound of clashing swords echoed in the training grounds as Kit and Jade engaged in a spirited bout. You stood by, attentively watching the exchange, arrows tucked into your makeshift quiver. As Kit executed a well-timed strike, she noticed your gaze and flashed a triumphant grin.

"See that move, Y/N? You could learn a thing or two from me," Kit teased, her confidence radiating.

You chuckled, taking the banter in stride. "Maybe, Kit, but archery requires finesse, not brute force."

Jade joined the conversation, offering a playful jab at Kit's training style. "Y/N's got a point. Sometimes subtlety can outmatch strength."

Kit, undeterred, twirled her sword with a flourish. "I'll take my strength over subtlety any day."

The banter continued as the trio ventured into a light-hearted discussion about their respective training preferences. As Jade offered guidance on refining Kit's technique, you interjected with insights on precision and accuracy drawn from her archery experience.

The sun began its descent, casting a warm hue over the training grounds. Kit wiped the sweat from her brow, turning to you. "You know, archery might have its merits."

You raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Oh? Admitting that subtlety has its place in the world?"

Kit's laughter rang out. "Maybe I'll ask you to teach me someday, when I'm not busy saving my brother’s ass."

The camaraderie between the three grew stronger with each passing day. As you and Kit continued to exchange playful banter, Jade found joy in watching their friendship flourish. Beneath the moonlit sky, the training grounds transformed into a haven of shared laughter, dreams, and unwavering support.

One evening, as they rested after an intense training session, Kit broached a topic that had lingered in her thoughts. "Y/N, you never talk much about your life before Tir Asleen. What brought you here?"

Your expression softened, your eyes reflecting the flickering flames of the nearby torches. "It's a long story, Princess, but sure I'll share it with you."

Seated in a circle, the trio delved into the intricacies of your past. The night unfolded with stories of a distant village, a peasantry burdened by injustice, and your journey to Tir Asleen in pursuit of a life free from oppression.

As the revelations unfolded, Kit and Jade listened attentively, offering empathetic nods and words of encouragement. The bond between them deepened, transcending the boundaries of royalty and commoner.

In the quiet moments that followed, Kit looked at you with newfound understanding. Their conversations became a tapestry of shared experiences, dreams, and vulnerabilities. You and Kit found solace in each other's stories, forging a connection that defied the societal norms attempting to dictate their paths.

As the moon hung high in the sky, casting a gentle glow over the training grounds, the princess, the archer, and the swordswoman continued their journey of camaraderie, laughter, and unwavering friendship.

———

As the months passed, Kit found herself captivated by more than just your archery skills. There was an unspoken connection between you two, a magnetic force that drew Kit in whenever you trained together. Each clash of swords seemed to spark an invisible energy, leaving Kit feeling a mix of exhilaration and confusion.

Jade, ever perceptive, couldn't help but notice the subtle shifts in Kit's demeanor. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she began teasing Kit relentlessly, especially during moments when you were out of earshot.

"Kit, you seem a bit distracted today. Anything on your mind?" Jade quipped, a sly smile playing on her lips.

Kit shot her a glance, a mixture of irritation and embarrassment. "Nothing, Jade. Just focused on the training."

Jade chuckled knowingly. "Focused, huh? Is that what they taught you to call it?"

Kit's cheeks flushed, and she swatted Jade with the flat of her sword. "You're reading too much into it."

Jade feigned innocence. "Oh, am I? It's just amusing how you and Y/N have this... almost sexual tension when you're sparring."

Kit rolled her eyes, attempting to brush off Jade's comments. However, the seed of realization had been planted, and Kit couldn't deny the truth in Jade's words.

One day, as you and Kit engaged in a particularly intense sparring session, Jade couldn't resist making her presence known. She whistled from the sidelines, interrupting your rhythm. "Wow, if I didn't know better, I'd say there's a storm brewing here. Anyone else feel the heat?"

Kit shot Jade an exasperated look, but her heart raced in sync with the rhythm of the blades. You, oblivious to the underlying tension, raised an eyebrow at the teasing.

"What's going on, Kit? Jade seems to think we're putting on a show," you said with a bemused expression.

Kit stammered, attempting to brush it off. "Jade's just being... Jade. You know it."

Jade winked at Kit, enjoying every moment of her best friend's discomfort. "I'm just saying, there's a certain spark in the air. You two might want to address it before the entire kingdom starts placing bets."

As you and Kit continued your training, the unspoken tension lingered, creating a dynamic that neither could fully grasp. Kit, conflicted by her growing feelings, struggled to maintain composure. Jade, on the other hand, reveled in the unfolding drama, eager to see how it would play out.

In the quiet moments after training, Kit often found herself stealing glances at you, contemplating whether to confront the truth or let the unspoken connection linger in the realm of ambiguity.

———

Kit and Jade engaged in a casual discussion as they prepared the training grounds for the day. The morning sun cast a warm glow, and the air buzzed with anticipation. Jade couldn't help but bring up a topic that had been lingering in the air.

"You know, Kit, you don't have to be so subtle about it," Jade remarked with a playful grin.

Kit raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Subtle about what?"

Jade chuckled. "About your feelings for Y/N, of course. Everyone can see it, even Airk and that’s a lot to say."

Kit rolled her eyes, dismissing the notion. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

As they continued setting things up, you approached, having overheard their conversation. You stumbled slightly on purpose, a subtle signal that you were well aware of the topic at hand. Without acknowledging it directly, you joined the conversation seamlessly.

"Morning, you two. What's the plan for today?" You asked, your tone light.

Jade exchanged a knowing glance with Kit, who tried to maintain composure. "Just the usual routine. Kit here is working on her sword skills."

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Sounds like a plan. Let me know if you need any help."

As the training session commenced, you couldn't help but steal glances at Kit in action. The rhythmic clash of swords echoed through the air, and Kit's prowess left an impression. You found herself captivated, realizing that your feelings were evolving beyond friendship.

Amidst the camaraderie and shared laughter, unspoken emotions lingered beneath the surface, gradually weaving a tale of friendship and a growing connection between the princess, the archer.

———

Under the canopy of the garden, you and Kit strolled along, the quiet rustle of leaves accompanying your footsteps. Kit couldn't help but notice the subtle warmth between you two as your hands brushed, each touch sending a flutter through her.

As you walked, your blush deepened, and Kit couldn't help but be intrigued by the unusual sight. Finally, under the shade of a dark tree, you settled beneath the branches, gazing up at the stars scattered across the night sky.

The air held a sense of anticipation as Kit mustered the courage to open up. "Y/N," she began, her voice soft in the quietude of the night, "there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

You turned to her, her eyes reflecting the starlight. "What is it, Kit?"

Taking a deep breath, Kit confessed, "I… Y/N all I care about is you. And if you wanna come prehaps even run away to live somewhere freely, I would tag along, if that’s okay. ‘Cause I don’t wanna have any adventures unless they’re with you. I should’ve told you sooner, you know? And for that I am so sorry. I love you Y/N."

The confession hung in the air, and Kit anxiously awaited your response. The garden, once filled with the sounds of the night, now held a stillness that seemed to echo the beating of your hearts.

The soft glow of moonlight bathed the garden, casting a magical ambiance over you and Kit. As Kit hesitated, wondering if she had made a mistake, your lips met hers in a gentle yet passionate kiss. The world around you two seemed to fade as you became lost in the warmth of each other's embrace.

You, breaking the kiss with a smile, whispered, "I love you too, Kit."

The admission hung in the air, a delicate revelation that opened a new chapter in your relationship. You continued to sit beneath the tree, your fingers entwined with Kit's as you exchanged stories, dreams, and whispered confessions.

As the night deepened, your laughter echoed through the garden, blending with the soft rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of the night. Kit, captivated by the genuine warmth in your eyes, couldn't help but marvel at the depth of your connection.

You moved to a quiet corner under a blossoming tree, where Kit often went when she needed some silence. The fragrance of flowers mingled with the crisp night air as you settled, side by side, on a stone bench. The stars above you two twinkled as if conspiring to keep your secret.

In a small awe by the magic of the night, Kit leaned in to steal a sweet kiss, savoring the taste of the moment. You responded with a tender passion, your fingers gently tracing patterns on Kit's arm. It was a dance of hearts, an unspoken language that surpassed words.

As the night wore on, you eventually found yourselves lying on the cool grass, cuddled together like pieces of a puzzle fitting seamlessly. You, usually the more reserved of the two, nuzzled into Kit's embrace, her heartbeat echoing the rhythm of the garden.

Amid whispered promises and playful banter, the hours slipped away, marking a turning point in their lives. Kit, stroking your hair gently, couldn't shake the feeling that your love story had just begun.

The night, filled with starlight and shared secrets, embraced you until you drifted into a peaceful slumber in the garden. The dawn would bring challenges, but for now, you and Kit found refuge in the warmth of your love, intertwined beneath the celestial canvas of the night sky.

———

During the training, Jade couldn't help but notice the unspoken tension between you and Kit. During a break, she decided to address the elephant in the room.

"Okay, spill it, you two," Jade said with a sly grin. "There's something happening here, and I'm not buying the 'just training' excuse."

Kit exchanged a quick glance with you, and you shared a silent agreement to open up to Jade. Taking a deep breath, Kit began, "Well, you see, it's not just training. Y/N and I... we got together"

You, though a bit shy, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it's true. We've been getting closer, and our feelings have evolved beyond friendship."

Jade's eyes widened with excitement. "Finally! I've been waiting for this moment. Do you know how long I've had to endure the tension between you two? Spill the details."

Kit chuckled nervously. "It's still new, Jade. We're taking things one step at a time. But there was a moment in the gardens, and, well, things got a bit more serious."

You blushed but continued, "And we decided to see where this takes us. We're not hiding it, but we're also not making a grand announcement. It's complicated, especially considering the kingdom's stance on such matters."

Jade, thrilled by your confessions, grinned widely. "This is perfect! I've been shipping you two for ages. Just promise me I get to be the bridesmaid when you finally decide to tie the knot."

You and Kit laughed, grateful for Jade's support and understanding. The trio continued their training, now with an added layer of shared secrets, inside jokes, and the unspoken promise of a future filled with both challenges and the undeniable bond that tied them together.

————————————————————

Okay this is horrible and is extremely short, but I hope you guys like it! Feel free to give me any suggestions on how I can improve other imagines in the future.

Love you, stay safe and healthy 🫶💚

[ladystoneboobs]

possibly incomplete list of asoiaf characters described as having red or even "ginger" hair (or red-gold as opposed to red-brown or ghiscari red-black), never auburn:

mycah, the butcher's boy*

beric dondarrion (red-gold hair)*

lharys, member of the three stooges men-at-arms (wild rust-colored hair)**

unnamed and unfortunate mother of robert baratheon's doomed youngest child, barra (light red-haired mother of black-haired baby)*

tomard aka "fat tom", stark guardsman (with his ginger whiskers)*

horas "horror" redwyne (orange hair)*

hobber "slobber" redwyne (orange hair)*

unnamed red-haired whore leaning out a window the day of ned's execution (presumably not the same as above since she was joking about the king's death)*

melisandre of asshai (deep burnished copper. red and terrible and red.)*

a man called jaqen h'ghar (red on one side, white on the other)*

pug-nosed dancy from chataya's brothel (described as red-haired by tyrion in acok but honey-blonde in asos, so presumably hair dye must have been involved between those book mentions.)**

addam marbrand (hair the same copper color as his horse's mane)*

"ginger-headed" maester frenken*

unnamed beardless ginger youth among theon's crew at winterfell*

ygritte, a spearwife "kissed-by-fire" (bright red)*

arryk aka "left" or "right", lady olenna's red-mustached guardsman*

erryk aka "left" or "right", lady olenna's other, identical, red-mustached guardsman*

lord paxter redwyne (tufts of orange hair)**

anguy the archer of the bwb*

a red-bearded karstark rapist dead in a crow cage at stoney sept*

tansy, innkeeper of the peach in stoney sept*

meryn trant (rust-red hair)*

"red" ronnet connington

mero, "the titan's bastard", former commander of the second sons (bushy red-gold beard)

a red-headed soldier who came with stannis to the wall

shadrich "the mad mouse" (bristly orange hair)*

lord rykker's red-mustached maester

marwyn belmore, lysa's former guard captain (ginger-headed)*

lord benedar belmore with a beard that was "a ginger-grey horror"*

lord orton merryweather (reddish-orange hair)

"the red oarsman", one of euron greyoy's followers (fiery red hair)

unnamed red-haired sailor arriving at port in braavos*

lord clement piper

and his son lewys "little lew" piper, who served as squire to jaime lannister in the riverlands

unnamed red-haired youth who first escaped northward with varamyr from the battle at the wall

one of illyrio's washerwomen (dull red hair)**

jon connington (once red hair gone to grey, still red at the roots and eyebrows even when the rest was dyed blue. also had a bright red beard as a younger man.)**

rolly "duck" duckfield (a shock of orange hair)**

a young man among the wildling refugees at mole's town whose red hair reminded jon of ygritte*

the "sunset kingdoms" girl raped by tyrion in the brothel where he was captured by jorah**

hagen's daughter, only other woman among asha greyjoy's crew

roggon rustbeard, one of asha's men

mully of the nw (greasy orange hair)*

bloodbeard, commander of the company of the cat (fiery red whiskers)

"ginger" jack, a toungeless sellsword of the windblown sent to dany, face nearly covered by his bristly, orange beard

gerrick kingsblood*

and his son*

and gerrick's daughter #1*

and gerrick's daughter #2*

and gerrick's daughter #3*

ronald storm, son of ronnet connington

one of the 7 "choicest" enslaved girls from the yunkish ship who were sacrificed by victarion (red-gold hair)

an enslaved redhead boy in line for a well, asking tyrion about dany**

nail, apprentice to hammer, the armorer for the second sons**

maester tybald, redhaired maester from the dreadfort serving arnolf karstark

valena toland, heiress to ghost hill (bright red hair)

teora toland, valena's younger sister with the same hair

uther shett, knight arriving for sweetrobin's tourney (ginger-haired and whiskered)*

*characters whose hair is described in the povs of starks (or jon snow) who only use the terms auburn or red-brown for catelyn, robb, sansa etc. and do not compare said characters to said tully-haired relations

**characters whose hair is described by tyrion lannister, who spent significant time with sansa and exclusively referred to her hair as auburn (without anyone else telling him her hair color as catelyn told brienne)

the only asoiaf characters ever described as having auburn hair:

catelyn tully stark

robb stark (red-brown/auburn tully hair "so like" his mother's, with a beard redder than his hair)

sansa stark (auburn hair lighter than her mother's, most reddish glowing in candlelight)

brandon "bran" stark (hair not bright red enough for him to distinguish himself from young benjen at first glance in a weirwood flashback)

rickon stark

brynden "the blackfish" tully (once auburn hair gone to grey)

edmure tully (auburn hair with a fiery beard, likely brighter than his hair like robb's)

lysa tully arryn baelish

known tully descendants never described as having auburn hair

arya stark (darker brown stark-colored hair)

hoster tully (hair and beard gone from brown to brown streaked with grey to white as snow)

robert "sweetrobin" arryn (fine brown hair, thought by sansa to be his best feature)

fun fact: the only other character that i can find to ever even be descibed as having red-brown hair in the main series is rowan, one of the spearwives who accompanied mance on his mission to winterfell. (described by theon, who had psychological reasons not to think of any hair-resemblance to robb and co.)

tl;dr i suppose my point here is that auburn hair in the real world may be a term thrown around wildly as a fancier way of saying red hair, but grrm and his westerosi creations seem to keep to a much more specific (true) definition. not just specific, almost entirely unique to a certain family, a weird mutation passing down their line somewhat inexplicably, like the magic platinum hair of the targaryens. (ned stark's 4 tully-haired kids being sorta like alicent hightower's 4 targ-haired kids where nobody can really explain why it was so dominant.) except it's actually more unique to the tullys than either black hair to the baratheons or silver hair to the targaryens, with the velaryons also having valyrian hair as well as some people in the essosi free cities too. which i guess makes rowan the wildling the equalivent of an unknown dragonseed or a lysene woman who could pass as a targ, and regular brown-haired hoster and sweetrobin the equivalent of regular blonde-haired alysanne and alyssa targaryen. so the next time someone calls the tullys lame or whatever, just remember that in-universe they're actually more special than the dragonriders, at least hairwise.

[everythingwasalreadypicked]

Some Ta Jason au scribble :D

Tw: attempted execution

"Preators? You wanted to see me?" Jason stood in the middle of Principia, hands bunching the sides of his pants to stop potentially wringing them with anxiety.

Julius wasn't looking at him, staring at a small square paper piece in his hands with brows furrowed. Reyna held a jar with candies in it, shaking her head and mouthing something Jason couldn't figure out. Aurum and Argentum were trying to reach the jar's contents.

"Grace." Julius took a deep breath.

Jason blinked. Julius hadn't called him by his surname for a while, preferring his name or his rank instead.

"I expected this kind of behaviour from your frater but you..." Julius mumbled, "You. The child of Rome."

"I– I don't understand, sir." Jason looked at Reyna for an inkling about what was happening.

"Ariadne once told me a proverb her sponsor had shared with her: Feed the crow and it will gouge out your eyes." Julius huffed, running a hand through his hair, his voice taking the sorrowful tone it always did when he was talking about his late co-praetor and girlfriend. "Explain why your co-centurion Gwen found this photo under your pillow in the last barrack inspection."

He slid the piece of paper across the table. Jason leaned to get a closer look, his blood freezing inside his veins as he saw what exactly Julius had in his possession: A photo of him and Alabaster, arms around eachother and close in a way that no enemies should be.

"We raised you, Jason Grace." Julius hissed, "tell me it's not true, that's it's all a misunderstanding."

"I—" Jason stammered, "Whatever you're thinking, it's not. I'm not a traitor."

"Yes, and that's why you have a photo with Saturn's general? Is that not General Torrington or do I need glasses, Centurion?" Julius got up, circling his desk.

"No sir." Jason whispered. Gods damn it, he knew he should had gotten rid of that photo after their date.

Julius towered over him, raising Jason's chin with a hand cupped under it. "I trusted you, Jason. And to think I was considering you as my successor..."

Julius wiped away a stray tear that Jason hadn't even realised it was there. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see two people from the First Cohort standing to the sides in full armour. Dread pooled inside his stomach. "Sir, please—"

"Seize him!" Julius barked. Before Jason could do anything, they had already latched onto his arms, dragging him towards the stairs leading under the Principia.

"Reyna!" Jason begged, desperation bleeding into his voice, "Reyna tell them, please! Ask Aurum and Argentum! I'm not a traitor, I swear—"

Reyna avoided his eyes. "Were you meeting up with Saturn's general or not?"

Her dogs growled, shifting their weight onto their back legs, ready to pounce at the slightest lie getting past Jason's lips.

Jason slumped in defeat, letting them drag him into confinement.

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

"Jason Grace, former Centurion of the Fifth Cohort, with the authority bestowed upon me by the Senate as praetor hereby I declare you stripped from your rank, any medals and citizenship of New Rome." Julius stomped his spear to the ground.

Jason had his back against Tiber, hands tied behind his back. The river raged behind him, the splashing water hitting behind his legs. Julius and Reyna stood in front of him, a group of archers holding a straight line between them and the rest of the cohorts forming a half-crescent.

"For the crime of treason, and aiding and abetting a known traitor—"

Jason wanted to beg, tell them he was no traitor. He had always been a loyal soldier his whole life. One of the archers drew their bow, the others following suit. Something seemed... off. Camp Jupiter certainly didn't have this many archers.

A boy he couldn’t recognise with sandy blonde hair and dull brown eyes stepped forward with a blindfold in his hands. Jason shut his eyes, not being able to bring himself to look at his fellow legionnaires in the eyes.

Arrows whizzed, though they never hit their target. Instead screams rang in open air as someone pushed him down, his back hitting the grass and hands cramped between the ground and his body.

His blindfold was ripped away from him as Jason stared at the same boy who tied it and was currently pinning him to the ground. Jason watched in bafflement as the air around them distorted, the blonde hair darkening to brown, the eyes shining till they reached the poisonous green Jason had came to know. Familiar freckles appeared on his cheeks.

The witch had arrived to the party.

"What are you doing here?" Jason whisper yelled.

"Saving your life." Alabaster drawled, helping them both onto their feet.

Jason looked around in confusion before the scene hit him. Several legionnaires were on the ground, arrows sticking out from their kneecaps, including Julius. Reyna glared at him as she rushed to her co-praetor's side.

Ouch. That hurt.

Saturn's demigods were breaking formations, causing ruckus between the legionnaires remaining on their feet. Alabaster untied his hands and whipped out his sword out of thin air.

Jason knew very well the lives of his friend's hanged on a single command from Alabaster.

"Al—"

"Let’s get you out of here," he mumbled, pulling Jason away from the riverside. Clashes of swords echoed behind them.

Jason turned his head to see how Julius and Reyna were doing; only to see Julius reach out to his spear, ready to throw it. Aimed right at Alabaster's back.

"Alabaster watch out!"

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

Jason's head was pounding, cold fingers were scratching his head. Soft sheets were tangled between his legs and... Alabaster's?

"Hhhg," he mumbled.

"Shhh," Alabaster cooed, hugging him from behind, face nuzzled against the back of Jason's neck. "Rest. We can see Lord Kro– Saturn tomorrow morning."

"What?" Jason's heart leaped.

"You agreed to join the army, remember silly?" Alabaster giggled.

Jason had zero recollections about that.

"I- I wouldn't— I," Jason wouldn't. He, he hadn't, right? "What happened?"

"Well," Alabaster hummed, "you did shoot at Julius with lightning."

Oh. Oh no.

Jason made a pained keen. "I have to go back then, explain myself, I—"

He attempted to get up, only to crash onto the bed as Alabaster yanked him back into his embrace.

"I didn’t save your life so you could get yourself executed, Jase." Alabaster spat out. He sighed softly, pulling the blanket to tuck themselves in. "You must've hit your head quite hard, you should really rest."

"But—" A hand clamped over Jason's mouth.

"Sleep." If Jason didn't knew any better he would have said that was a command, even with that though he couldn’t do anything to stop the heaviness of his eyelids.

Alabaster's voice might just as well been thickened honey, dripping and oozing with sweetness that pulled Jason under. The son of Hecate pressed himself closer, legs enveloping Jason's torso. The room they were in was pitch black save for the sligth glow Alabaster omitted, the bed softer than anything the barracks had to offer...

Would it be really that bad to close his eyes just for a second..?

[thelordofgifs]

the fairest stars, continued

The "Beren and Lúthien steal two Silmarils" AU that has spiralled completely out of my control: time for a new post again! Parts 1-9 are here and Parts 10-15 here. Also now slowly being uploaded to AO3 here, though you still want tumblr for the latest version.

To recap:

Maedhros and Maglor are in Himring.

Maedhros has (somewhat, a bit, with caveats) recovered from his very bad unreality attack, and is now attempting to defend Himring from an army of orcs. Unfortunately 90% of his people aren't there.

Maglor has very much not recovered from being stabbed by Maedhros, and is not really in a great situation.

Fingon is busy trying to stop Curufin's war with Doriath. He's kind of managing to talk Thingol down from attacking Himring's assembled army.

Although his bright idea for accomplishing this was offering to execute Curufin.

Maedhros holds one Silmaril in Himring, Thingol has kept one in Menegroth, and the last one is still in Angband.

Dead characters who are nonetheless still in the story: Lúthien, Beren, Finrod, Celegorm.

When Maedhros' mother named him well-made, she was not picturing his prowess on a battlefield: but Maedhros was forged anew in the crucible of Angband, or perhaps more gently in his long months of healing by Mithrim's shores, and this is what he is good for, now.

And he is very good at war.

Under his command the defence of Himring rallies. Maedhros sets the few archers he has to rain down arrows on the arrows on the attacking orcs, and takes a small party out on horseback to drive them further back, and the fortress gains a little breathing space.

But there is only so much he can do with so few people – and people, at that, who are so strangely slow to respond to his command.

Not that they will disobey him openly, but he is far too aware of their suspicious eyes on his back, the wave of mutters that breaks every time he issues an order.

"And the way they look at me – as if I'm, as if I'm one of the Enemy's thralls – do you think—?"

"Nelyo," Maglor says instantly, "you are not a thrall."

Maedhros attempts to stop his frenetic pacing up and down Maglor's room. "Then why," he says. There is so much noise in his head. He cannot seem to finish the sentence.

"They're Curvo's people," says Maglor, and there is something hard and unfamiliar in his voice as he speaks their brother's name. "Who can say what poison he's fed them?"

That was the wrong thing to say. Maedhros blanches for a moment, draws in a sharp breath, and then says, "Curvo told me – he told me—"

"I know," Maglor says, reaching out a hand. "I know, and he lied. Come here."

Maedhros clutches at his hand. Maglor can feel his frantic, fluttering pulse beneath his fingers.

Maedhros can feel Maglor's, faint and irregular.

He tries to steady his breathing. Tries not to sort through the jumble of memories pressing against his skull (they're dead, they're both dead) and focuses on the present.

Maglor is here, alive, alive – although his pallor has worsened every time Maedhros can snatch a moment from the siege to visit him, and his grip on Maedhros' Silmaril is white-knuckled, and some nameless fear touches Maedhros as he looks at him.

"Should I send you away, dearest?" he asks.

Maglor's eyes widen. "What?"

"It isn't safe here," Maedhros explains, although he has little heart for his suggestion in the face of Maglor's obvious dismay. "If Himring does fall – I don't wish to put you through a hard retreat."

"Don't make me leave you," Maglor begs, his voice teetering on the edge of real distress. "I want – I want to stay here, and—"

"All right," Maedhros soothes. "All right. You can stay as long as I hold."

"You'll hold, Nelyo," Maglor says. "You always do."

In the face of this unwavering confidence Maedhros manages to summon a shaky smile.

When he is gone – and the sustaining warmth of the Silmaril with him – Maglor reviews his objectives, which are threefold.

One: stay alive. Not going very well tbh. He has not recovered from the blood loss. And more than that the world feels grey and cold to his eyes – he who has always loved sunrises – and he cannot stop remembering: the splintered haunted look in Maedhros' eyes, the way, before Maglor sang him to sleep, he was reaching for the knife to try again.

Two: make sure Himring doesn't fall. He cannot quite believe it will, while Maedhros is in command, but the news about the recalcitrance of the few soldiers they have is concerning. He should have realised that rumour would spread through the castle after Maedhros was found in a pool of Maglor's blood, should have blackmailed Curufin's lieutenant into keeping her mouth shut about it – but too late now. Hopefully Maedhros can rally them.

Three: keep Maedhros generally sane, and specifically unaware that he stabbed Maglor. Also not going too well. Maedhros is growing stressed and paranoid. He's noticed that Maglor is healing very slowly (or not at all, to be more accurate). And – as today's incident shows – he will remember, sooner or later.

A dire situation all round, Maglor concludes, and he is not sure how much longer he will have the energy to attempt to handle it.

Where's Fingon when you need him?

Exactly where he should be, actually!

Fingon is mostly succeeding in his objectives.

The Sindar have stood down.

(Thingol agreed to his terms. That’s what matters, right? Not the vague flash of disgust in his eyes.)

“Are we going back to Himring?” Curufin wants to know. “They’re in danger.”

I have to kill you, Fingon thinks, and says aloud, “Yes, we are. But if you’re lying to me again, Curufin…”

He lets the threat trail off.

Anyway. More pressing concerns for now.

He sets a hard pace back through Himlad, reasoning that even if Curufin is lying there won’t be any harm done in getting back to Himring quicker.

Curufin has been trying to make contact with Maglor again, but his brother’s mind is closed – worrying.

All he gathered from Maglor’s brief use of ósanwë was the scent of blood and panic, the sound of orc-horns in the distance and a terrible pain in his side.

Has Maglor been injured in battle? Surely not; his leg can’t be mended enough for him to fight yet. But then what’s wrong with him?

Curufin definitely isn’t going to try touching Maedhros’ mind, considering the state Maedhros was in when he left Himring.

This is such a mess. And it’s all his fault. And Celegorm is still dead.

Be better, Fingon told Curufin – but now he won’t even look at Curufin, and Curufin’s hand is still burned and he doesn’t think it will ever heal.

Does he even want it to?

Back at Himring, Maedhros watches as the orcs press closer. If they manage to surround the great hill completely—

[look I know nothing about military stuff. in lieu of any actual manoeuvres or strategies we are going to assume that the Bad Thing that needs to be prevented is the fortress being encircled. got it? cool.]

“Harass them from both flanks,” he orders. “Keep them contained, don’t let them spread out.”

His paltry force obeys, but with plenty of murmuring.

The patrols, Maedhros catches, and His own brother.

He doesn’t know what they mean. He doesn’t know how much longer he can possibly hold. He doesn’t know where Fingon is, or whether he’s succeeded at preventing a war with Doriath, or why Maglor isn’t getting better.

When there is nothing left but the clamour in his head and his racing pulse, there is still war, at least: still the swift brutal swing of his sword though orc-neck after orc-neck, the splatter of black blood against his breastplate and the deadly dance of the battle-field.

(Still the gentle light of the Silmaril in his pocket. Still Maglor, breathing. But those are harder to hold on to.)

Himring will not fall. Himring must not fall.

As the weary battle for the fortress continues, its chronicle is woven by steady, skilful hands in the House of Vairë.

Míriel Therindë’s grandson has little difficulty finding her tapestries in the Halls of Mandos.

He is staring at them in transfixed horror when he feels a presence behind him.

“Oh. It’s you. What are you doing here?”

“Same as you, I imagine,” says Finrod, coming to sit beside him (metaphorically. since spirits can’t really sit. you know the drill). “Looking at the tapestries.”

Celegorm snorts impatiently. In life he had a tendency, when frustrated, to slip into the language and mannerisms of whatever bird or beast he felt most appropriate to the situation – elves are simply too stupid to talk to being the clear implication.

Finrod is absurdly pleased to find out this is still the case.

Or maybe it isn’t absurd, he tells himself, maybe it’s natural to want to believe that this is still the cousin he grew up with, that a person can betray you and turn your kingdom against you and still have some parts worth saving.

“I meant,” Celegorm is saying derisively, “what are you doing in these Halls? I thought your dear cousin won you a special boon.”

“Impressive you can still speak of her, after what you did,” observes Finrod. “But yes, Mandos did tell me I was to be re-embodied. First of all the Exiles, you know.”

“And?” Celegorm presses, after he is silent for a time.

Finrod smiles at him. “I told him thanks, but no thanks,” he says.

Celegorm splutters for a bit. “What?” he manages at last. “Ingoldo, have you lost your mind? How – why – is this all out of some misguided form of pity? Or are you just flinging it in my face that you can choose to leave and I can’t?”

“Lúthien reminded me,” Finrod says seriously, “that we always have a choice.”

Back in Himring, Maedhros is being pressed hard.

They are so badly outnumbered, and the orcs keep coming and coming, a never-ending river.

If Himring falls, Maglor dies – for there is no chance of his surviving a hurried retreat, Maedhros can see that even without fully understanding what ails his brother, and he has refused to be sent away in advance.

Himring can’t fall, Maedhros tells himself.

(To evil end shall all things turn that they begin well – how those words echoed in his ears four hundred years ago, as he watched his high stone fortress built. He realises, now, that he always expected Himring to fall.)

The orcs have pushed them back to the south of the hill, almost closing off the circle, cutting off their last path of retreat.

Will he burn with the house, then – like Amrod, like his father? The prospect would not be so awful were it not for Maglor.

Nothing lasts forever; Maedhros understands that as few other elves do, and has done since Angband.

But Maglor – Maglor has to live forever – Maglor is dying—

To the south-west sounds a clear silver horn, the horn of Fingolfin.

(to be continued)

[tabrisangel]

imgufkcinh giggling I like them btw

the original ft nikoball and evil evanescence

[mgnifique-tion]

— still a hero.

summary || `` trapped in the worst earth to ever exist, the scientist finds herself in a confession made by the dark speedster. ``

pairing: headcanon–blitzkrieg!barry x fem!scientist!reader song recommendation: innocent (taylor swift) lowercase is intended…

— themes and warning/s: fluff, enemies to lovers-ish, swearing (?), suggestive for a moment (but not really?), comfort, mentions nazis, mentions death (nobody dies though), and a bit angsty

— a/n: actually, i have absolutely no knowledge of comic!blitzkrieg but ever since i found out that this character was cut out of crisis on earth-x (alleged..? so not sure), i knew i had to write about angsty barry with a different flavor and storyline… did i nail it? did i nail it better than the cw– anywho, enjoy! (i also write for k-pop on my main account so if you’re into that, follow @mgnifiqueyoo ^^)

[ total words: 3.3k ]

support me on ko-fi! ☕

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

alright.

here's the so-called thing: it's been weeks since the nazi in the black suit stopped the führer from executing you and you just couldn't stop thinking about it. 

you were from earth-1, a curious scientist who had gone to lengths to explore the multiverse and it just so happened that you landed on this one. i mean, what's wrong with living on an earth where the nazis won? haha, everything.

everything's seriously fucked up.

“hey!” the speedster was aggressive but not in a way that you'd expect as you stood there in the middle of a red 'x' symbol on the cemented ground, ready to be shot with one of those arrows that killed the innocents who chose not to conform. you opened your eyes to see that the hooded führer, leader of the entire world, was even startled by how the black streak was stopping him from ending your final breaths. “i know this is for the fatherland but she’s done nothing. she's not the one who stole the samples from us. you've got the wrong girl.” 

the führer, an awful version of the star city mayor, oliver queen, lowered his bow and you were just mind-blown that he'd even take it into consideration. 

“are you sure about this? because i’ll put an arrow in your eye if we're both wrong.” he taunted through gritted teeth as the speedster ran towards him, stopping right in front of him. he was so fast that you couldn't even tell if he was teleporting or running. 

he is the fastest man alive after all.

“oh, right. i'm sure,” the masked accomplice answered with a chuckle, later placing his hands behind his head as if this was all a game to him. “and also, i can easily kill you right now but i wouldn't do that since i'm telling you the truth.”

“good point.” the archer responded, breathing in as he turned around to face his other men, who had now lowered their guns as well while his kryptonian wife squinted her eyes, quite disgusted.

“we're done here. she's in blitzkreig's hands,” he told her, which almost made her feel nauseous. — she anticipated your death the most but that's not even the weirdest part about her; she's literally an alien. “she's of no importance anyway.”

and somehow, that brought you here; you're now in the headquarters of those nazis, waiting for the speedster to show up. why? because he ridiculously called you in the middle of the night and you think that it's an emergency.

oh, right. you're his speed mentor these days. that's why he did that.

“where is he?” you mutter in almost a whisper, bouncing your leg furiously as the heel of your shoe tapped the floor's tiles. time is ticking and you're getting anxious. what if this is a trap, right? that could get you killed.

but what if it isn't? then, something else must be up. 

a familiar gust of wind strikes into the room, even snatching your wrist watch away as he checks the time himself. “i'm not too late, am i?” he asks in a joking manner as you can't help but let out a sigh, trying to keep your patience together. for the record, you thought he was getting killed and for some reason, you kind of wished that something as serious as that was actually happening instead. 

“... was there even an emergency?” you question, your brows already knitting lower as he lets out a chuckle. “so, there's no emergency,” you utter, still trying your best not to say anything that'd annoy him – which would later convince him to turn you to the führer or just kill you himself. “great. that's understandable.”

the strange meta laughs even louder, later looking down at you with his bottom lip bitten by himself as if he'd been viewing you differently.

“don't sulk about it, doc. remember, you signed up for this,” he tells you to quit thinking about it as a bad thing, tilting his head to the side. you could just see it in his eyes – the desire to annoy you in that high chair you're sitting on. “would you rather be an earth-1 fugitive or be a free man- well, woman, on this earth? plus, you're my property anyway. you've already gotten so many privileges with just that.”

he's smug, unserious, and unbelievably so overconfident that even as bad as siren-x wanted to replace him – but mainly because of her feelings for the one and only führer but let's not dive into that love triangle between an alien, a meta, and the jacked apple of their eye.

“but i do have a problem… surprisingly.”

you raise both of your eyebrows, intrigued by how his mood shifted. you never expected the blitzkrieg, killer speedster faster than thawne, to consult you about a problem. he's never had them before and it just shows how bothered he is by this so-called problem.

so, what is it?

“are you… running differently?” the question almost sounded like a joke to him if it weren't for that genuine look on his face. the speedster crosses his arms, slightly puckering his lower lip out while he's obviously frowning at you through that mask. it's hard to make out what his face actually looks like but for some reason, you can read him so well.

but then, he lets out a quiet snicker. “no, that's a shit guess... guess again.” he was eager to let you find out the reason yourself that you just spent a few seconds (fifteen or so?) thinking of a possible answer.

and when you looked back up at him, you shake your head, causing him to roll his eyes, annoyed again. “guess again- come on, you’re not an idiot. if you were, then i would’ve let you get killed.”

“i literally don’t know. i’m sorry.” you apologize – well, more like forced to do so – as he slouches his shoulders in disappointment. he just couldn’t believe that it’s hopeless for you to know what his problem was!

even though he was being totally vague and unreasonable at this point, he knew you knew him in a different way; in a way that you knew what he’s like even without knowing the face behind the mask. 

so it just surprised him that you had no idea what he’s talking about.

he takes in a deep breath, readying himself to tell you the issue; the main reason why you’re here in the lab at three o’clock in the morning all by yourself and… him, of course.

“i can’t sleep and i don’t know why… this is my first time, alright? don’t judge,” he blurts out, the confidence stripping away little by little as you take a moment to understand what he’s telling you. is he not joking with you? that’s a new thing.

he’s always so fond of ruining your days whenever you come around to work at the laboratory but he seems so different now. way too solemn for you to think he’s even joking at this very moment. 

“... you can’t sleep well, is that why you called me here at 3 am?” 

and shockingly, he nods right away, determined to learn more about his ongoing problem. “yes and god, it’s horrible. everytime i close my eyes, i keep on thinking about something else and the next thing, my mind’s all about her.” blitzkrieg runs his mouth almost faster than he could do with his own legs that he doesn’t even realize that he let an important and rather private detail slip. 

her

who was she?

“... her?” you ask, watching how his already dilated eyes almost jump out of its sockets, terrified to find out that you heard him say those things hilariously clear. in panic, the wrist watch he snatched from you drops from his grip, resulting in him looking down to see what he’s done.

“is she an ex-girlfriend?” you continued to ask him, not letting the key part of his sleeping problem get ignored as you find yourself getting even more interested.

“um… no, she isn’t. not an ex or anything,” he answers truthfully, the unknown awkward side of him taking over his voice as he later picks up the wrist watch from the floor. handing it to you, he manages to keep his distance, his hands intertwined with one another while he stands stiffly. “but, uh, i count her as somewhat of a friend- it’s complicated.” he crosses his arms, slightly nodding as those words of denial flow out of his lips, his eyes clearly avoiding yours.

‘is he having a crush on someone?’ you think, tilting your head to one side as you lean your chin over your knuckles, unsure of what else you could make out of this brand new information that you’d rather expect from the ruthless kryptonian with the heart disease.

“look, i’m not a therapist or anything so i’ll use my logic instead,” you start with a disclaimer, leaning your back against the rails of the high chair as he nods once again, still willing to listen. “so, what are those thoughts specifically? i mean, there’s a really huge chance that those thoughts could be distracting enough to not make you sleep.”

he stares at the other side of the room, silent again. you could tell he was so bothered by his own late-night thoughts that he could spend seconds staying quiet just by thinking about them. “... i keep on remembering how she’s looked me in the eye, scared shitless. untrusting. overall pathetic… but for some reason, i always feel the need to protect her.”

“... you could feel that?”

“i said don’t judge.”

but it was too unexpected for him to feel that way about someone! whoever that girl was, you were so sure that blitzkrieg loved her whether he’d admit it to himself or not.

“but that’s not all, i also think of her in ways that i probably shouldn’t tell you,” he says in a teasing tone, his signature smirk finally showing up within his lips after long moments of just pure seriousness and deep down in him, he’s wishing to make you feel the nosiest you’ve ever been. “... or should i?”

you squint your eyes at him in confusion, torn between being nosy and being a decent “doctor” or whatever he wants you to be.

“you seem excited to tell me so do as you please,” you say with a slight chuckle, trying your best to be relaxed about it as if you’re not interested to listen in the first place – which, in reality, you actually are. 

“what? you want me to tell you?” he’s around the middle of laughing and panicking as he avoids that look on your face again, just like earlier. in response, you hum, still playing the chill listener, who would choose to keep the darkest secrets of her friends to herself than letting them have their own privacy.

after all, you’d swear to tell no one. it’s not really much of a big deal.

he then faces you once more, eyes looking at you from top to bottom as he takes a step or two towards you. suddenly, he lifts away the mask from his face, finally revealing his biggest secret to you with anxiety firing up his nerves – and apparently, you knew who he was all along.

well, his earth-1 counterpart at least: bartholomew henry allen, the chemist from central city’s police department; someone that your past co-worker julian albert used to dislike for months.

“barry allen?” you whisper in disbelief, carefully bringing your palm to your lips to shush yourself as he nods slowly. to be honest, he’s been waiting ages for you to figure that out but it seems that you’ve brushed those thoughts away for a reason that he had no idea about. 

“anyway, back to the topic, are you sure that you want to know what i think of her?” he changes the subject as quickly as possible, which causes you to take a second before nodding along. well, it’s quite a thing for this earth to get shocking with the counterparts – this man in front of you would be called a “modern hero” in your world yet in this one, it seemed that wasn’t the case.

let’s face it. even this version of barry would call himself unkind. “oh, and before you ask why i showed you my face, that’s because i trust you,” he begins with a reminder, hoping that you’d take note of that as you nod once more. your ears are basically ringing, tingling, and almost itching to listen to what he’d tell you. “i want you to tell no one else about this, is that clear?”

and of course, you nod another time, already getting even more impatient as minutes pass by.

“i don’t think i should explain further when i tell you that i think about her a lot in bed,” barry admits with a smirk on his face as one of your eyebrow arches in curiosity. you later let out a hum, a cue for him to continue with his stories; you’re now definitely sure that he really does like her, whoever she is.

“i think about how her skin would feel under my fingertips once she finds out who i really am.”

he takes another step towards you, his eyes fixated on his gloved hands as he looks back into your eyes in a way that he’s almost telling you something that shouldn’t be said.

something that’d put himself in danger. “often times, i’d think of playing the hero over and over again… just so she knows that i’ll put my life on the line for her,” he says, later glaring back at you with a hint of desperation. — he’s been waiting for seconds, minutes, days, and even weeks to tell you this. to tell you all about it. to tell you that this girl he’s talking about is no stranger to you.

he then takes the empty seat next to yours, keeping his head down for a while. for him, saying things like these is a struggle, especially since he lives in a world where freedom couldn’t be an option unless you’re wearing a badge. and even though you were his “speed doctor,” he knew that you wouldn’t still be treated the same way as he was and the constant reminder of that was crushing him slowly.

and then, he lifts his head up and says, “i’ve been thinking about you all the time.”

you freeze in your seat as if time has stopped, taken aback by how he’s now talking about you and not someone else you didn’t know. barry reaches for your hand and you let him take it, placing it over his chest as if he’s asking you to check his pulse.

“when doctor west… iris was executed by thawne, i thought that i could never feel this way anymore,” he admits, softly caressing your hand. the rough leather of his suit grazes over your skin so gently like a feather that he almost forgot that he’d also use that same hand to drill into someone’s chest, even taking their heart out for the fun of it. “but you… you made me realize that i wasn’t always a monster. that i once loved someone… that i was once human.”

“... barry-”

“you don’t have to say anything,” he cuts you off, shaking his head as if he’s actually giving you control of the situation unlike usual, wherein it’s always his call that matters. and deep down, you didn’t know what to tell him.

everything was happening so fast that you couldn’t even believe that this earth’s barry is the man behind that dark mask, which would usually be seen before someone’s death. 

he then takes another deep breath, returning your hand back to you as he looks out at the window, spending a few moments to think about what he’s done. — he fell in love with you already and it’s too late to crawl out of the deep pit that has no floor; a wide space like an ocean but instead of waters, it’s all those things about you. what he liked about you from head to toe. the things that his mind would be focused on every single night.

he couldn’t sleep, yes.

but he’d always smile whenever he remembers that somebody like you exists in his life.

a life so dark, so broken, so warped that he believes that he doesn’t even deserve to feel loved.

“i can take you back to your earth, where you belong. i know you’ve been staying here for months…” he trailed off, thinking about it deeply. he's torn between it. just because he could love, that didn't mean he's an angel – he's a thousand miles away from it. 

he wants you here all to himself and owned by no one else but him. he craves for you to be around him all the time. he wants your eyes on him only.

but he knew it would hurt you.

and it almost kills him to think of that.

“... but you deserve to go home.” he was miserable. deep down that silly, menacing facade was just someone so in need of feeling something. anything. and god, was it so addicting to feel some love for once. “because in the end, you'll always be that person who reminded me of who i used to be… who i wished to be.”

there was long, loud silence. a silence that ticks like a time bomb, pressuring you to think of how this all would turn out to be. after all, what would happen next is in your hands.

“i’m starting to think that there’s a reason why i ended up here,” you said with a gulp, about to make the biggest decision ever. he raised an eyebrow at you, confusion shown within his whole face as he cocked his head to the side with a question that remained in his mind– what exactly did you mean? 

“this world needs saving… and maybe we’ll be the ones who’d save it.”

the speedster had a frozen look on his face, clearly not expecting that those words would even come out of your mouth.

“do you really think that it’s not too late for me to change?” hope was seen in his eyes, his brows furrowed in both confusion yet belief in what you’d tell him next as you nodded, your soft palm later reaching for the side of his face. 

he closed his eyes so tightly for a long moment, his chest rising up and down so quickly in anticipation. 

he’s never felt a touch like that in ages. the last time he’s ever felt a hand graze over his skin was the moment he’s locked eyes with his iris, who had been fighting for her life ‘til her last breath.

i’ll be okay, she said no matter how the red pooled over her chest, the blade that thawne held seconds before was sticking out of her. 

the very moment he’d realized that this agenda that the new reich had implemented was not worth doing at all.

“there’s a hero in all of us,” you said, your hand slipping away from his skin slowly when he’s suddenly reached out for it, holding your arm so dearly like fragile, thin glass. “and you already saved me.” 

“let’s go save the world together, then?”

“of course.”

[trainer-ace]

YO!

My name is ACE! I'm an Ace Trainer! That's why that's my name!!

I heard that there were some strong trainers on here, like Elite Four members, which means that I can get an advantage for when I challenge them! Sooo, I've made my own blog!!

I've got four Pokémon, and we've been training to become CHAMP! We'll do it some day. These are my buddies!

Spike: Sylveon, Male- My partner!! He's also my strongest.

Knight: Absol, Male- My OTHER partner!!! He's a big goober, even if he doesn't show it!

Fang: Mawile, Female- She's a sweetheart with a big appetite!!

Rocks: Sableye, Female- Silly. She's a sableye. They're just kinda weird. SLASH POSITIVE!!!!!!

And this is ME!!!

And this is SPIKE!!!

Currently I'm travelling in HOENN! Which is my home region!

You can send me asks, or chat, or we can battle!!

Hello Hello! This is the mod behind @the-drayster. (That's the main for my pokeirl blogs, so any follows/likes will be from there)

The art is by ME!

I've decided after much deliberation to make this blog.

Ace is a sixteen year-old Ace Trainer, currently travelling around the Hoenn Region. He's from Slateport city.

Said parents are in fact the Rocket Executives. They fled from Johto after the disbanding of Rocket and landed in Hoenn. While I haven't decided exactly how Ace was acquired (as of me writing this), Proton is his ACTUAL (as in the one responsible for him) parent. He considers the rest of the group his parents as well, but they're really just helping raise him.

Brief guide to Parental Names-

Dad is Proton. Father is Archer. Pa is Petrel. Mom/Mother is Ariana.

I also have a PROTON blog! It's set in the past (Between the events of the Kanto games and the Johto games), but it is the same character! @exec-proton

Pelliper mail is ON!

Pelliper malice (Unless it's joking) is OFF!

Magic Anons are OFF!

Sentient Pokémon are free to interact, though they may be considered from a separate part of the Rotomblr multiverse!

ALWAYS feel free to send an ask about whatever. They keep me motivated, and I don't mind whatever random question or babbling you throw at me!

[omgkalyppso]

"You can trust me. I hope you know that." your FE3H or BG3 characters of choice

I decided I'd write something I'd probably never have written otherwise! Shahid's surrender.

I'm not sure which AU it fits into. Avery is there, my shez oc. And Nader briefly.

The whole thing is 2,193 words and I'll probably put it on ao/3 later. No editing has been done.

Thank you for the ask!!!

.

Shahid felt the noose tightening. Khalid was the leader of this Leicester Alliance, he should not have been upon the field — what else could there be for him to prove? Unless he simply wanted to kill him personally.

In victory, Shahid imagined he would find his brother at the back of the army, or further still in the walls of some city. Why wouldn't he run away again, as he always had?

In defeat, Shahid would have expected to die at the hands of a stranger, or to be brought violently back to his brother's heel for execution.

Yet here they were, landing wyverns across from one another in a field already stained with blood, no action or subordinates to distract from their acknowledgement of one another.

“It really is you …”

“I'm here to stop you from ruining Almyra's reputation, Shahid.” Claude’s wording was careful. If he could appeal to his brother’s Almyran pride he might be able to turn the leadership of this fight elsewhere.

Shahid pulled on the reigns of his wyvern, causing the beast to rear back with a roar. “Her reputation in this land of weaklings and cowards?”

Claude sighed, disappointed that he’d stumbled on the wrong phrasing for Shahid’s current mood.

“Even now Fodlan's only glory is from the heels of Almyra's weakest link. Without you, this country will cannibalize itself within the decade,” Shahid spat, charging his mount forward, knowing that turning the wyvern would only give an archer lie his brother a larger target.

Rather than accept the clash, Claude took off, spinning thrice to avoid the thrown axe he’d known was coming.

“Almyra knows her worth!” Shahid shouted after him in chase. Whispering under the rush of wind and wings, “And mine.”

.

Shahid’s axes came close. A single strike to a winged shoulder would have been enough to risk a deadly fall and a lost friend, so Claude paced himself, not meaning to toy with Shahid, but timing sudden drops and careful acrobatics to his advantage. Arrows riddled Shahid’s wyvern before Shahid had managed more than a single scratch on the hide of Claude’s wyvern. Shahid’s mount’s movements had steadily become more choppy, but the final arrow sent the beast to the ground in a steady decline.

Claude wished they’d landed earlier. Shahid’s mount didn’t die gracefully, but Claude had some relief that his brother jumped down and across the wyvern’s wailing body, axe still raised in accusation.

“Give it up, Shahid!” Claude shouted, landing across the field, bow still raised. “It's over. You lost.”

Shahid’s eyes flickered to where a Fodlani soldier rushed forward, skidding to an angular stop to his brother’s side. Beyond, he could see his own fallen guard, and bared his teeth in rage.

“Let fly that arrow, then!” He taunted. “I'll never kneel to the likes of you!”

“But that isn't what I'm asking for you to do here!” Claude insisted. He threw his arms down in frustration, lowering his weapon as he thought of how Shahid would have demanded his allegiance, if not his death — and how he should be doing the same, whether because of Almyran custom, to hide his identity as planned, or for the safety of both Leicester and Almyra. He dismounted. “Let's end this, come on!”

Claude dreamed of the children they had never been, playing together, teaching one another, and reflected on how Shahid’s natural gravity and subtle intellect had inspired the methodology of his plans all the same. Even with how their environment had pit them and their siblings against one another, they were more similar than they were different, even if he would have to convince Shahid of the worth of people not from Almyra. He was his brother, and Claude wanted him at his side, even ahead of him, so long as he would listen, as long as he would try.

“You little brat …” Shahid hissed, holding his left shoulder as though his axe was heavy and he was supporting himself. “I'd sooner die!”

The knife flying in Claude’s direction wasn’t a surprise, but it also wasn’t an attack he should have been weathering, with dreams of reconciliation.

Avery was in front of him in the blink of an eye, easily parrying the thrown blade with the strange, summoned sword that acted as an extension of his arm.

Claude sighed hopelessly, and then donned a different mask as he addressed his classmate, “Thanks for that.”

With his dual blades still at the ready, and without looking away from Shahid, who took three more heavy steps forward, Avery squared his posture, tightened his jaw and tossed his head slightly to adjust his bangs.

“Look, Claude …” Avery said, low. “If you can't do it, then I can.”

Shahid heard him anyway and chuckled darkly as he swung his axe up to hold the weapon in both hands. “Yes, Claude,” he mocked, “loose a mongrel on a prince of Almyra. Even that would be more dignified than to be ended by the hand of an impertinent, soulless—”

“Prince Shahid—” Nader shouted, as if to interrupt him — royalty, while he had the impertinence to land his wyvern at his brother’s side.

Shahid would have none of that, and took off towards him in a run. “How dare you speak to me! You fucking turncoat.”

He expected his brother’s guard dog to cut him off and ignored the roar and shout as he readied to swing up towards the defensive maw of the wyvern on which Nader sat, catching an arrow in the upper arm at the last moment. His weapon faltered, and he should have died, but Nader pulled hard to turn his well-tamed beast aside and into flight again, leaving Shahid on the ground, injured and shamed.

“Why?!” he called up after Almyra’s supposedly staunchest general. “Why did you come with me at all? Why did I trust you?! How could you trust him?!”

It hurt. His pride, his arm, his heart. Yet when the soldier rushed his side, Shahid was able to spin his axe in a wide arc and send them crashing aside.

He expected that might earn him a moment to breathe, to rethink his retreat, but then Claude tackled him and Shahid lost his grip on his weapon as he met the earth unceremoniously.

They’d never fought before, not really. Claude had been a babe, a child, and Shahid had injured, annoyed and abused him if Claude had had the misfortune of being left without a sympathetic authority in his presence. Perhaps that had led Shahid to believe he’d never fought before at all, or to see him still as that helpless child.

Claude clamped a hand around Shahid’s throat, allowing his brother enough momentum to try to sit up from his place prone on the ground before shoving him back down, choking him briefly and cracking the back of his head against the ground. Shahid reached up to claw at his face with one hand, punching back against his brother’s left shoulder with his left hand. Shahid’s wild eyes shook and his vision swam, but he could make out the glittering pieces in Claude’s outfit at this inescapable proximity and despite how Claude decked him in the temple, he was able to steal one of his brother’s many knives with his left hand as his right clung to Claude’s chest, Shahid’s brain rattling in his skull.

Shahid drove that knife into his brother’s thigh and did not release the hilt through the resulting scream, nor as he used Claude’s shock to force them to roll aside.

Shahid longed to berate his brother, to banter and rage and tell him exactly why and how he would never take Almyra, but all he could do was grunt as he pulled out the blade and struggle with his right arm, still plucked by his brother’s arrow, to try to drive it down into the side of Claude’s head. Claude only had to raise his arm to redirect the blow into the earth, where Shahid left the knife and reached forward to grab his brother’s hair and knock him into the ground as Claude had done to him moments ago.

They tussled, all hands, and teeth, and hidden knives, and the rush of wind and dirt as Nader’s wyvern landed somewhere nearby, and Shahid knew he was going to die here.

Claude’s injured leg kneeled down on Shahid’s arm, the retrieved knife held down by Claude’s left fist, deep in his shoulder. Claude’s right forearm extended across Shahid’s chest, Shahid’s right arm twisted on the ground, the arrow now broken and its tip lost somewhere inside the wound. They both gasped for air, the same air, Claude wished he could shout, blood stinging down the side of his forehead getting caught in his brow.

“Shahid,” Claude asked again. “Don't make me do this.”

Shahid hissed through a false smile of teeth again, until Claude pressed the blade harder.

“Don't you want to see home again?” Claude asked desperately, close to crying as he watched Shahid’s eyes squint closed in pain. “The southern beaches, the western desert…”

Shahid’s eyes opened slowly, staring blindly at the blue and white sky above.

“Don't you want to see the sun tomorrow?” Claude bargained. They both winced, shoulders shrinking in shame and humiliation as Nader corralling a crowd could be heard at a distance.

“Shahid,” Claude begged. “Please.” He pulled the knife free, letting the tip press into Shahid’s cheek, not piercing the skin. “Keep your eyes. Keep your tongue.”

Shahid let his gaze drift to Claude again, the fight draining out of him as he thought of home, tears swelling with the realization of all he’d lost, and all he had yet to lose by agreeing.

“I mean to treat you with dignity and respect,” Claude promised, “and that means I won't seek to humiliate you if you just stop … But this respect also means I'll kill you if I have to, brother.”

Shahid smiled again, not at ease, but less malicious than before — more impressed.

“We don’t need to be enemies. But even as enemies,” Claude said, sliding the blade down to press up into the soft flesh under the corner of Shahid’s jaw, “you can trust me. I hope you know that.”

Shahid scoffed and felt the knife draw blood. He swallowed just to feel that he could, and endeavoured to memorize Khalid’s face in this moment: No joy in his victory.

“Get. Off. Me,” he declared, low and regal. He fully expected Claude to refuse, to press a promise of reconciliation, alliance, vassalage, or exile, but on his shaky leg, Claude slowly lifted himself up and stepped away. Shahid lay in the dirt barely a moment longer, reaching up to touch first his neck and then his forehead, bare, now that his circlet had rolled away on the ground during their fight.

Shahid looked over to the purple haired soldier that held their broken ribs in a crooked stance where they stood by the rubble he’d tossed them into, and then turned his attention back to Claude as he sat up with a grunt and a hand on his chest.

“Shahid—” Claude began again, silenced by a raised royal palm raised not so high as usual for the pain and exhaustion Shahid was subject to.

Shahid stretched his neck back, and closed and stretched his hands before making strides to pull himself to his feet, one knee, split open, nearly giving out on him, bleeding copiously through his armor.

“You,” he demanded of the purple haired soldier. “Ask for my surrender.”

Avery answered before looking to Claude in confusion. “What?”

“Please,” Claude said, an open hand facing the ground extended towards Avery to ensure he stayed his weapons. “Do as he says.”

Keeping in-line with the standard set by the nobles in his presence, Avery forced himself to stand though he kept his arm around himself, still feeling the weight of the Almyran prince’s blow.

“In the name of the Leicester Alliance, I demand you … call off your forces. And, uh, submit … to a total surrender.”

Claude’s wince and Shahid’s lowered brow reinforced how Avery had not done that correctly.

“Do I have any forces left?” Shahid asked Claude.

“We’ll take care of it,” Claude answered cryptically.

After a roll of his eyes, Shahid addressed the soldier again, “You will have to bind me.”

“There's no need for—” Claude began to object.

“Shut up,” Shahid said ineloquently. “I need no more than my hands to best you.”

Claude had to hold himself back from pointing out all the evidence to the contrary, and could see how his irritation earned another biting smile from Shahid.

“I will need to be bound,” Shahid told the soldier despite the bile in his throat.

“Yeah,” Avery agreed, sparing a glance at Claude. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Take him straight to the keep. And find him a subtle healer,” Claude ordered Avery. “He’s not a spectacle.” Shahid laughed openly. Claude hid his eyes in his hands and rubbed feeling back into his face, and then swept back his hair. “I have stuff to finish up here.”