#asmund speaks

[asmund-scion-of-ice]

Slowly realizing that I'm becoming the person who only ever wears band t-shirts unless I'm going to an event that requires me to dress up. Used to think that was what old people did when I was a kid. Well, I guess my younger self dictates that I'm now old. I look back and tell my younger self, "You're enjoying things now, look forward to it!"

[hesperusblogging]

Assigning you a bedroom based on your favourite Yuli PC (1/2)

Marzu

Your emo, criminally so but you are also cringe and you should be proud of this.

He's literally 14 no he would not have a sick ass room he'd still have the remnants of childhood scattered around before he made that transition into adulthood.

Maybe you need to stop running from yourself and just lie down under that purple tent and and scream into a pillow. No one will make fun of you I promise.

This room smells like bath and body works candles and apple cider.

Panths

Panths is a middle aged man who lost his wife, cut his hair, and got fired from his job if your kinning him that is on you I fear. He is clearly in the middle of a midlife crisis and if that speaks to you then here is the perfect place to contemplate your life.

At least the view is nice! The only downside is you can feel the weight of your guilt as the ocean calls for you to walk into it.

You know old doctors used to prescribe a summer at the seaside for women experiencing hysteria and well lets just say you definitely would enjoy the sea breeze from time to time.

This room smells like fresh rain and hints of a bonfire burning.

Ucluelet

You deserve the best most beautiful bedroom as there is still the hints of joy in your heart that makes you shine like the radiant sun.

Even if the world outside is ugly at least your room is pretty! Your mom is downstairs cooking and your counting the seashells you've collected with your siblings. Everything is going to be okay.

Comes with one of those 2000's plastic fish tanks that's just a rotating artwork

This room smells like the ocean breeze and fruits ripening in the field.

Seven

Largest of all the rooms because you've got the most friends and family waiting for you at home. You'll have to host them somewhere right?

Need a cozy room to hide in because you didn't want any of this to happen, it wasn't fair that it did, it wasn't your fault, you just want to go home.

Windows that let you sneak out at will!

This room smells like balsam and tea.

Asmund

Most average male living space

You sleep on the couch because you don't know the comforts of a bed anymore. This place never mattered, soon you'll be off again fighting, fighting,fighting and then you'll rest your head somewhere hard and uncomfortable which you will deserve.

A shelf dedicated to the only thing you cherish, videos and photos of those you love.

Cat comes with the room for free your ass needs the companionship.

This room smells like dust and vacuumed carpet

[publishinggoblin]

Hello!

Does the podcast booster have a guide for how to interpret the cards anywhere?

At this time just in the CD-set book. But when it goes out as a booster pack it will have meanings in the booster pack, and I will likely share card meanings on the alleyman podcast project in an update here soon.

God is this even legible??

The Cards

The Lorekeeper by Jacqueline Florencio is Dr. Ala Okoye. The card stands in for a keeper of knowledge, someone who bars your passage toward knowledge, but who when connected to, shares it freely. At best, the Lorekeeper is a helpful mentor. At worst, he’s a know-it-all who always thinks he knows better than anyone else.

The Alleyman by WolfSkullJack is that difficult oracle. They know much, but come with teeth bared. You can placate them with coins. Bring them what they desire, and they will gift you knowledge. But beware, this mouth may speak wonders, but it bites just as hard.

The Draw to the Dark Corners of the World. by Sam Dow is the uncanny and strange call to the dark. It is the estrangement made manifest in the world. Your moment to step out from routine normality into something fantastical, if a bit scary, is just around the corner. Take the plunge if you are ready.

The Artifact Bearer by czarfunkle is in-world me. The bringer of strange and beautiful artifacts, and yet, something is off. Charlatan, snake oil salesman, this bearer of Artifacts has changed it to fit their own agenda. The bearer of faith, the one who claims to know the truth, to hold it in their hands. What they sell is unique and beautiful, but be wary of buying into their fiction. They will lead you astray.

Monologues in the Dark by Amy Smith is a beautiful performance for you and you alone. Strange, heart wrenching, hilarious, horrifying-- you are going to experience a movement away from your life. Know that what is done here is for you. No one else.

The Shock Jock by czarfunkle is the irreverent jokester. Not edgy for the sake of it, but dismissive, funny, silly. This person does not take things seriously the way you might, and may even say the wrong thing at the wrong time, but do not hate them for it. They can be your rock, if you let them be. Their wild nature hides a strong sense of self.

The Influencer by Kat Veldt is a personality for personality’s sake. The enactment of how we want to be seen for all to see. It’s not lying, nor necessarily deceitful. It is performance specifically to be seen in a certain light. At its best, at least it is performing a version of ourselves we think is who we wish to be. At worst, it may be lying to ourselves far more than anyone else, crafting someone unattainable.

The Outsider by Nala Wu is the one at the edge of town in the cabin. The one in the house no one walks past. The one in the alley, begging for change. The one people ignore. The one people speak about harshly, if at all. The outsider is all of those who are abandoned, forgotten. In some cases it’s right where they want to be. But something led them there, and that was rarely by choice.

The Alleyman by Seven Dane Asmund is a patchwork of faces. It is a background character in your life. Someone who could be anyone. Someone you might even ignore. They have importance here in this space, they have something important they must tell you. You must heed them, listen. What you do with what they say will be paramount-- and keep them close.

The Alleyman by Kollapsar is the Alleyman casting his cards, faceless and unknown. Look for the stranger, he will come soon. He bears change in his hand, and if you let him, he will give you something you have been waiting for. He will not stay, for he does not belong here with you. But listen, and heed him well.

The Alleyman by Voidbug is the wonder of life. Stay patiently ready for something miraculous, as it’s always there among the night. Try something new today, and allow yourself a moment to celebrate whatever victories you have had. Even the smallest of our journeys that were worth taking are worth celebrating.

Transgression by Seven Dane Asmund is the boldness to be yourself unequivocally. It is the willingness to know that who you are, what you are, is demonized, feared, hated, lied about, and knowing that being yourself in your own skin is more important than all that. It is also the danger of this, knowing that being on this knife’s edge can get you cut.

The Camgirl by Mx. Morgan Robles is the sexworker, earning a living on their body. The oldest work, reviled and spit upon. It’s knowing your worth and literally owning it, while knowing that the world may not understand. It’s both you and another. Share your love and respect with them. They not only deserve it, they have earned it. No one is beneath us, and that must be carried with this card.

[silverwingink]

Wreck Ch. 1

Dagfinn snorted as he watched the little video he had recorded on his PDA, “Did you see this one?” he asked, offering it over to Asmund. 

The larger tea beetle briefly glanced at the screen only to roll his eyes, “Yes you’ve shown me that one before. Now stop distracting the pilot, would you?” despite the statement his tone was filled with a certain amount of humor, having been tickled by the brief glimpse he’d seen.

Dagfinn seemed to gloss over the other’s response, “That little thing was never too bright was she? Always chewing on something,” he mused, watching the video of one of the creatures they’d managed to tame on Planet 4546B; a young Stalker.

“Primarily my dive suit,” Asmund mumbled.

“Ha! Maybe if you looked less edible, or smelled less like Peeper–” the other teased. 

“Hardly my fault you didn’t want to handle cooking the fish!”

“Awe! But you just did it so much better~!”

Asmund let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head, “Whatever. I suspect it was also because John liked you better anyways.” 

“Well I spent more time with her,” Dagfinn pointed out before slouching some, “Shame we couldn’t bring her along…” he hummed. 

At this the other beetle took some pause, giving his cousin a sympathetic look, “She’s where she belongs, and soon we will be too,” he quietly reassured.

“We don’t even know where we are, or what planet we’re closest to right now,” he raised his dark blue eyes up to the flight deck’s window panels. Before them was a large, green and blue planet. It looked habitable enough, and scans had indicated that it contained life, “Or how we ended up looking like… this,” he gestured to himself. 

By now the two of them had become quite accustomed to these new bodies, though the sudden change had been quite a shock at first. Now it seemed more like an… inconvenience. Dagfinn for one didn’t want to sit too long pondering how it could have happened.

Asmund took longer to answer that one, his brows furrowing. As he opened his mouth to speak, however, a sudden bang jolted the entire ship, causing the two to nearly fall out of their seats. 

The ship, once bright with LED lighting and white walls was quickly plunged into a terrifying, red-tinged darkness, “What the hell was that?!” the smaller tea beetle exclaimed.

“We just got hit by something! An asteroid?!” Asmund exclaimed, frantically tapping on his screens to get more information, but they soon went out as well.

 The first thing to be knocked out was their power supply, so they were now on emergency battery. Despite that, the sirens seemed to be working quite fine, blaring through the circular halls of the cousins’ little ship. They were working a bit too well as it left a pounding pain in their now unfamiliarly sensitive ears. 

“W-we need to go, now!” the large beetle grabbed his cousin by the arm and practically dragged him to his feet. The two began to run as quickly as they could towards the emergency pods, knowing they were on borrowed time before their ship would crash violently down onto the foriegn planet below, or break apart in the upper atmosphere.

Dagfinn had walked this path many a time with Asmund, going through the drill over and over just in case a situation like this ever occurred. Had this been any other day, he likely would have bemoaned the frequency of their practice, but today he could finally understand the purpose of all those dry runs. Even with these strange new legs he made all the turns necessary to arrive there in good pace.

However what awaited them was not a welcome sight. One of the larger meteoroids had struck this end of the ship, crumpling the titanium wall like paper and completely blocking off the secondary emergency pod further down the bay.

But that should be fine right? There’s two e-pods for a reason! Asmund quickly stuck his head into the first one’s open door, but upon pulling back out, his expression was grim. 

“What? What is it?” Dagfinn asked, not waiting for an answer as he too took a peek, “D-damn it…”

This pod, though certainly more intact than the other, had one of its seats damaged.

“There’s… only one seat to get out of here,” Asmund spoke gravely. 

The smaller tea beetle pulled his head out to look towards his cousin, “What about your repair tool? Maybe we can fix it–!”

Another explosion sent a jarring shake through the ship’s hull. Dagfinn barely managed to claw onto the doorframe hard enough to keep himself standing, and even then he could feel the vibrations practically rattle his bones.

“There’s not enough time! We’re barely holding together as is!” Asmund shouted in return, clear fear in his voice.

“What do we do then?!” 

Asmund’s mind was racing, trying to find some sort of solution to this dire circumstance. He could try to make a landing on this thing, but with this many systems down the chances were slim. Hell, without enough control they could just end up burning as they fall through the atmosphere! And it’s not like they had the time or materials to simply fabricate another e-pod on the spot! Pulling out his PDA he scrolled through the blueprints, desperately looking for something he could make that might help them in this situation. But everything was either useless or required materials they didn’t have on them anymore…

Through the semi-transluscent screen he caught the faintest outline of Dagfinn’s expression. He looked expectant, yet nervous. 

Asmund’s heart dropped… he could only think of one thing. 

With one arm the larger teabeetle gave the smaller a hard shove, and with the other, he slammed down on the activation button outside of the e-pod. Taken off-guard by the sudden action Dagfinn fell flat on his back, sprawling his limbs out to try to stop himself. By the time he realized what had happened, the door had already been sealed shut. Scrambling to his feet the lighter blue beetle went up to the small window on the e-pod which still pointed into the ship, “What the hell are you doing?!”

“I’m sorry Danny… If this thing is going down, I’m not going to let you be dragged down with me,” Asmund said, forcing a smile towards his cousin even as the smaller one banged at the door, “Y-your e-pod s-should have plenty of f-food and water to last you a good b-bit. Remember to do system diagnostics often t-to catch p-problems early,” he said, his voice cracking the more upset he got.

“Shut up! Get in here and we can figure something out you stupid bastard!” Danny shouted, tears welling in his eyes, “Stop being a damn hero!”

The screen next to the door flickered to green, indicating the e-pod was ready to launch. Asmund pressed it without hesitating and bit his lip, tears falling down his face now too, “G-get strapped in, will you?” he said, before stepping away from the door.

“Asmund! Asmund!” Dagfinn yelled. But no matter how hard he hit and yanked at the door, the damn thing wasn’t coming open. The other disappeared from his line of sight. 

“Launch sequence engaged, launching in 10… 9…”

“D-damn it… Damn it!” the smaller tea beetle stumbled back towards the available chair, fumbling with the straps as the robotic voice above continued to count down. Eventually, despite the fogginess in his vision, he was able to get it all locked in. 

“4… 3… 2… 1… Launching…”

Dagfinn shut his eyes tight and squeezed the restraints hard. In a second there was a loud pop and a sudden jolt. His stomach was forced into his throat as the pod fell away from the rest of the ship. 

He opened one eye just enough to look out the window again, and he could see the burning ship drifting away from view having been set ablaze…

-------

Lil backstory for these two, though mostly Danny:

Chapter 2 is here.

Chapter 3 is here.

[artemios-eden]

2

A small laugh, a gentle touch- there are these moments alone that make Akeno even happier than all other times. Being so close to Ryuu- his precious Leif- he could never be any happier. Pressing his face onto the smooth scales of a chest, his nails dug gently into the area and slid slightly under them. "Are you happy?" The dragon asked, speaking up while bringing their head down to the prince's back. Cooing in delight, Akeno wrapped his arms around the long, scaled neck. Running his fingers along the small bouts of fur, he groaned in utter pleasure from the silky sensation- though, he did whimper once the dragon nudged him down further. "You truly are happy... what a dear little prince, allowing this old king to love someone so powerful and sweet." The redhead laughed out in joy, tilting his head back with a grin- what sort of thing can they do in their camp? Aias is out getting wood, Maeve is hunting for dinner tonight; Netta, Asmund, and Rowan are all out to get specific crystals for the practice of their magic. It gives them time to love one another, both aware they will remain alone for a long time due to being entrusted to make the building of rock for their shelter. "I want to get more of your warmth, dumb dragon- gimme more." Whining out, the prince laid himself on the ground, uncaring of what his clothes will appear to be at the end of this.

Said being chuckled, too, nuzzling their beloved prince and bringing a clawed paw down to nudge the pants and underwear away. Ever so carefully, too, knowing just how sharp their talons are. "Giving me such love, I cannot help but sincerely want to tease you... if this were my castle or my lands, I would do so shamelessly. However, I cannot be for we are in such a rush to finish before the others come back." Sighing out, Leif shook their head. Tilting it down, the long, thick tongue lapped along the scarred thighs of their mate- the long-lost prince.

Despite the slimy sensation of the tongue and the slightly rough texture, the redheaded prince didn't even bother squirming in any sort of way. Instead, he spread his legs further as his nails clawed at the ground. A few swipes and grass curled around the fingers, breaking off easily from the desperate movements.

"So sensitive, sweet boy," They praised, the tip of their tongue curling around the awaiting cock that is gradually starting to harden. "I love you so much- I will make sure you can soon take my cocks within your dear body, but for the time being I must only pleasure you... we will take too much time to stretch you out." The words gained whimpers from the younger royal, clawing further at the dirt and arching his back as the tongue teased at his rim. "N-.. no- please, please please-" A growl cut him off, gasping after. Crying out quietly, he began grabbing on the horns of his mate to desperately hold something as a way to ground himself.

There was little to warn the young man of his own orgasm, so overwhelmed and startled as white liquid spurt onto his bare belly. Though, he squirmed finally when the tongue lapped quickly to clean him of cum. "You're so MEAN-" He hissed, smacking gently at the horns as he turned over to get away.

Although, the tongue pushing inside his all too willing body had him muffle his scream. Squeezing his thighs together, a hand clasped over his lips as he rolled his hips back against the open mouth of the dragon. The hot, damp breath of his beloved panting against his ass... there's so many sensations that just the panting is getting him worked up once more.

Mewling, the long hair was coming undone from the ponytail- draping over his shoulder and onto the ground, too. Pushing his face on the long, lengthy strands of hair, his back arched like before. Drool began pooling on the ground, tainting the grass and dirt in the red-tinted fluid.

His body felt bloated, the tongue thrusting in and out of it to greedily pleasure him. As a paw lifted him up more, his eyes roll upward.

Squealing out practically, his prostate felt like it was being CRUSHED from the pressure on it. Constant streams of whimpering and cries left him, unable to keep fully quiet until, after a particularly hard thrust, he had cum for the second time. Going limp, he pressed his hands onto the ground and even glanced to his mate as he was rolled over to his back.

Spreading his legs again rather willingly, he watched as his mate cleaned him up for a second time, immediately laying down afterward.

"Haah.. you're-... you're seriously wild..."

He rolled over, pulling his underwear and pants up before cuddling close. As Ryuu picked him up in far more human arms, he allowed such affections while being carried to the little stone house they created via magic. The bags and clothes were set aside, so Ryuu quietly pulled the furs out to spread across the floor to be like a bed altogether.

"You enjoy it," they speak up after a minute, glancing over the furs and moving them around over and over- they felt it must be perfect. Once finished, they laid back down with their love, of which Akeno groaned at from being moved so much. It earned a small swat, of course, and Ryuu didn't appear to mind.

Settling, they nuzzled and cuddled all until night hit and everyone returned... there would hardly be a moment where they would hesitate to do these things, appreciating what moments they will get together as they journey throughout the world.

[beneathmyskies]

i have no real power but i just want to protect

[a-sanguine]

@magioffire

Every now and then I remember, that Vali is basically having almost all my muses in his harem by now. And then I remember, that he also got Shien as his fiercely loyal chamberlain. And then I remember, that Shien would totally threaten people far above his status, if he caught them talking with malicious intent behind Vali's back.

Shien: Look, I know you think you can overpower my boss - which in itself is already... brave, but just hypothetically speaking, you actually do manage to spring a surprise on him, that still leaves you with the rest of his entourage, right? I might not look like much, but I'm effectively indestructable and very keen on keeping my boss alive. Plus there's this big guy, you see him over there? Right behind my boss? That 6 feet something, burly mountain of a man, looking all menacing and mean? Yeah well, that's Asmund. Absolute sweetheart of a soul! Also, he can punch straight through a brick wall without even scraping his knuckles. And you know, what's the best?

Them: ...what is?

Shien: -leans in close to whisper conspiratorially- He's not even the most dangerous in Vali's entourage. -gestures towards Dirthamen, who's calmly sitting besides Vali, like a decorative concubine, drinking wine-

Dirthamen, as in the actual god: -catches them looking and raises his glass at them with a gentle, yet very unsettling smile-

[wanderingworldwarrior]

Of Twisted Emotions - Chapter Twenty-Five: Judgment

Loki has little interest in the prison’s ongoings. Time seems to pass in a blur, leaving smudges in his memories.

  His name, though, he still reacts to that when he so chooses. And when he hears it bellowed from across the hall, his gaze is drawn towards the vaguely familiar voice.

The man is spitting mad as soon as he catches sight of Loki. He violently jerks against his wrist restraints as he attempts to throw his guards and barrel towards the imprisoned Asgardian. He looks wild and unwell (though admittedly not as unwell as the prince himself), and yet Loki recognizes him.

  Halvar cannot stop himself from swearing at the wretched prince. He has forgotten where he is and where he marches, each step closer to his sentencing. All that he has lost forces itself to the forefront of his thoughts, and he stares at Loki, the man who watched as he stepped backwards off the Rainbow Bridge.

  “Wicked, vile bastard! Traitor! Loki!” Halvar ignores the demands of the guards as he gives voice to his rage. “He’ll have your head! He’ll order your flesh stripped from your bones! I cannot wait for the day!”

  “Ha!” Loki does not bother to rise from his seated position on the floor. The idiotic barbarian is not worth the effort. “Hold a moment, men. The mongrel wishes to speak. It’s only right to let a dead man voice his final grievances.”

  “We don’t take orders from you anymore,” one of the guards says, but another speaks at the exact same time, exclaiming, “Yes, my lord!”

  The pair looks towards one another, conflicted. The rest of the guards waver, eyes darting between Halvar and Loki.

  Halvar cackles, the sound echoing in the dungeon halls and riling up nearby prisoners. “I am no dead man!”

  “You are naïve, you bumbling oaf,” Loki says. “Each step you take is towards death.”

  “He’ll come for me,” Halvar says, beady eyes reflecting the golden barrier’s light. “He promised. Asgard’s palace will be fenced with pikes, a head for each.”

  “And who doesn’t make empty promises when the need suits them?” Loki asks, laughing once more. It feels surprisingly good to laugh. “Thanos does not care about the life of an insignificant pawn.”

  “You speak of yourself!” Halvar exclaims through a manic smile of bared teeth. He jerks his arm out of a guard’s grasp. “You failed him, not I!”

  “And you are assuredly a beacon of success,” Loki says, noticeably surveying the Asgardians surrounding Halvar. “You’re a fool to make these claims. There is no rescue waiting for you, barbarian. Only Odin, who is surely running short on mercy.”

  “Move it!” a guard demands, shoving Halvar in the back. He staggers a few paces, his neck craned towards Loki, straining.

  “You’re known for your lies, Trickster! You cannot shake my faith! Thanos has a plan, and you are meant to be snuffed out before its completion!”

  Loki fixes him with a cold stare. “A trickster, yes, though I do not only speak in lies. Listen well, for here is your truth. You will die, Halvar Magnuson. And you will die alone, by the hand of Odin.”

  Halvar laughs.

  He laughs as the guards drag him away.

  He laughs as he climbs from the depths of Asgard’s dungeons.

  And when he reaches the end of his march, standing before the Allfather’s throne, Halvar’s laugh dies with him.

  - - -

  You can feel Loki’s thoughts at the back of your mind. Hints of words that will surely come through clearly if you focus on them. He gives you a choice, and your decision is solid.

  You continue to shut him out.

  You aren’t ready. Not yet.

  You’re too preoccupied with other thoughts, as it is. You’ve been waiting outside of the throne room doors, palace guards on either side of you. They accompanied you from the infirmary. You had been expecting them for a while now, and have not spoken a word since they cuffed you.

  It is undignified, but you know why it must be so.

  Asmund is preparing to leave when the grand doors open once more. When he sees you, his feet still.

  He had been asked to attend Halvar’s sentencing and give testimony as a witness to the man’s crimes. He had not been asked to stay, though with every eye on you and the guards, he doubts anyone will notice.

  Your gaze is downcast, and the chains between the cuffs around your wrists clink softly. More for show than for function, Asmund guesses. He doubts they’d be any real hindrance. After all, he remembers the Bloody Warrior emerging victorious from a swathe of dark woods, a camp of dead men behind her. Mere chains should be nothing to you.

  He watches as you walk towards the Allfather and stop short of where the mad barbarian stood not ten minutes before. Asmund frowns as he realizes you seem quite sickly, slightly swaying on your feet. Your fists tremble, and he notices that you wear a black glove on only your dominant hand.

  You kneel. Asmund’s heart jumps into his throat when the guards knock you down into a proper bow. You let out a hiss of pain and your eyes narrow.

  Odin Allfather is a terror to behold in his rage.

  He states your name, and you look up at him. Your eyes slide from him to Queen Frigga, who stands at the king’s side. Her gaze is serious, and yet you somehow feel bolstered by the expression on her face.

  Odin’s council murmurs to one another, and there’s a quiet hum of voices from the gathered nobles who have come to bear witness.

  Thor is nowhere to be seen.

  “You stand before us, charged with endangering the Nine Realms,” Odin says, thumping his spear, Gungnir, against the marble floor. At once, the room falls deadly quiet. “You mounted an assault against Midgard. You purposefully wielded a weapon of destruction with malicious intent. You acted in poor faith and tarnished your name while under fealty to Asgard.”

  You make yourself keep his thunderous gaze.

  “How do you plead?” the king asks you.

  You swallow and try to quietly clear your throat. You know what you have to say, especially if you want things to end well for you. “Guilty.”

  Such an ugly word. It tastes as ugly as it sounds.

  Odin grunts and shifts in his throne. “At least you are aware,” he states.

  You open your mouth to say more, to explain, but catch movement from Frigga. The queen subtly shakes her head when she locks eyes with you. You force your unsaid words back down your throat.

  Odin speaks once more. “I was gifted knowledge from your companion, known to us as Willow. She recounted her experience with the aforementioned weapon. The golden scepter.” He pauses, scrutinizing you. “As I understand it, these acts occurred when you were not of your right mind. Is this true?”

  “It is,” you say.

  “I am also to understand Frigga Allmother bid you go to Midgard, in an attempt to return with our son, Loki.”

  “She did,” you say.

  The gathered crowd begins murmuring again. Questions, scoffs, statements of innocence or doubt.

  “We are gathered here today to pass judgement upon you, warrior,” Odin states. “I have made my decision.” The murmuring stops.

  You wait, heart pounding. You try to remain calm, but doubts run through your mind. You haven’t been able to fully test your portals. How much has your power been altered by the light? Will you be able to escape, should Odin choose to imprison or kill you?

  You can tell you’re working yourself into a panic, and you feel Loki try to speak to you once more in reaction to your fear.

  As you stare at Odin Allfather, you allow his lost son to hear your judgement at the same time you hear it yourself.

  “I have chosen to pardon you.”

  Far beneath the throne room, Loki lets out a long, slow breath.

  Odin’s eye is boring into you, as if he, too, is peering into your thoughts.

  Your countenance shows no signs of relief, although Asmund thinks your posture relaxes slightly. He himself feels as if a great weight has lifted.

  “You are not exonerated from guilt,” Odin continues. “You are hereby banished from Asgard upon the conclusion of this sentencing. You are to be stationed with our troops at the edge of the realm. Should you take any other action or disobey an order, you will be treated as an enemy of Asgard. Should you not accept these gracious terms, you will be treated as an enemy of Asgard. Should you vanish from our realm and return in an attempt to avoid the consequences of your actions, you will be treated as an enemy of Asgard.”

  You wonder if the offer will remain, should Odin learn you are not the powerful soldier you once were.

  “Do you understand these terms?” the king asks you.

  “Yes,” you say. “I understand.”

  “Then it is so,” Odin states. “The guards will escort you out. You are to leave at once.”

  As you get to your feet, Loki’s presence in your mind slowly fades…. Too slowly. It’s as if he does not wish to let go. The absence leaves a chill you aren’t expecting, and you wonder why it makes you feel so alone.

  You know you have to decide right now. Will you leave and not return, or will you accept Odin’s ruling and join the patrols at the edge of the realm.

  I can choose to leave later, if I want to, you think to yourself. May as well stay here.

  Just in case.

  You allow the guards to lead you out of the throne room, chains still clinking around your wrists.

  - - -

  It is a long time before you hear from Loki again.

  - - -

  Much longer than you imagined it would be.

  - - -

  Warrior?

  The air is dusty, although you try not to focus on it. The patrol is as boring as ever. Few fights have taken place since you joined Asgard’s border forces, and those fights were easily won. You want more. They’ve been good practice.

  You can wield the swords you create with only one hand, so as a backup you wear an Asgardian short sword on your hip. It is issued by your captain, Destin, who is still fairly green and desperate to prove himself.

  He takes his position as your babysitter very seriously.

  I know you hear me.

  You slow with the rest of the patrol as you all round the corner. The Asgardian camp is full of movement and boisterous voices, which means it’s not just you feeling restless.

  You follow a familiar path towards the back of camp, where you usually lurk. The rest of the patrol group tapers off, one by one, to their own companions, fires, and food. As the last two soldiers break away and head towards Destin’s tent, you continue on alone. You try to convince yourself this is a good thing, but solitude does not give you as much solace as it once did.

  You never thought you’d long for the days of companionable silence with a fellow soldier.

  Bjorn.

  The thought makes you frown. Sigrid has shared with you what happened while you were away, and you wonder again if things could’ve been different had you been there. You surely would’ve marched with Bjorn and Obasi. You would’ve chosen to group up with the half-pint.

  Maybe they wouldn’t have….

  Maybe Fandral wouldn’t be….

  You unbuckle your sword belt and carefully set it aside as you plant yourself in the dust next to your small fire pit. The sounds of camp seem to dull as you light the wood, sparks springing to life with a wave of your hand. You sling your bag off of your shoulders and briefly search it for your rations and your notebook.

  Willow has answered you.

  It has been good to keep in touch, although you know you have nothing interesting to say. Guilt weighs heavy every time you read her updates on Earth and the Avengers.

  The team has split up, apparently, which troubles you. But according to Willow, things have been going pretty well.

  Her update is the usual, and you write back to her with your usual as well. Magic shifts within the book’s pages when she answers you, and you watch her handwriting form.

  Glad to hear you’re alive and well. Quick question – what was your plan in New York, anyway? Tony kept asking for specifics last time Steve and I saw him, and he made me promise to ask you.

  You stare at the notebook for a moment, your heart suddenly drumming faster as the question settles in your mind.

  You feel like laughing. Your head hurts. Your dreams are still full of the frightening blue, and thinking back on it all makes you feel like you’ll fall apart.

  And yet… you know you owe everyone an explanation if they ask for it, no matter how uncomfortably awkward the subject is.

  Uh, you write, hesitating. It already feels like it happened a long time ago, your memory fuzzy and unclear. Well, I guess… destroy Earth, take everyone I gave a shit about to Asgard, take over Asgard, make Loki watch while I took the throne…. You pause and stare at your sentences. You add, Looking back, I feel like most of this plan was motivated by spite.

  You can’t hear Will’s thoughts, but you can practically sense her eyes roll a realm away. I can tell, she writes.

  You tap your pen against the opposite page, nervous energy needing an outlet. You want to say you’re sorry again, but you know it isn’t what needs to be said.

  Miss you, you finally write. I’m doing better.

  I know you are, Will writes back. I miss you, too. We miss you.

  Who’s included in this ‘we’? Rogers? Stark? You suppose it’s a nice sentiment, regardless.

  You’re not an enemy of the Avengers, and that’s all you can ask for.

  You close your black notebook.

  Not yet, then?

  Loki’s words are hushed, barely audible in your mind. You lose the sound of them in the crackling of the fire.

  Night is falling. The off-duty soldiers will have started drinking, and Destin will be looking for you. It’s time to check in, and then sleep, and then get up to do it all over again.

  You bite your bottom lip and stare into the flames. Not yet, you answer him.

  And all is quiet.

---

Hiatus tldr: Got divorced. It was not fun.

Thanks to everyone who's helped me get back to the person I am today. Special thanks to my best friend, ShootingStarSojourner, as well as my internet best friends LittleMissSyreid, agentpiku, and chibi-lioness.

I love you guys ♥

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[sammoedr]

headcanon - difference in speech:

Sigrid and Asmund talk very differently and not in they way people would expect. Sigrid is loud, her words slurred and crude, whereas her little brother speaks slowly, each word carefully selected and pronounced. But when among their peers, they speak in the tongue of the tribes people/Avvar. In such, one wouldn't find any difference at all between their way of speaking, save maybe for Sigrid's more confident speech patterns and Asmund's tendency to mumble, when he feels uncertain.

The reason for this, lies within the ways they learned the common tongue.

Sigrid learned the common tongue, more or less on-the-go. After she got separated from her Hold, she traveled the Lowlands and learned the manner of speech there from the people she met on her travels: peasants, common folk, vagabonds and mercenaries. None of which are particularly prone to refined manners of speech.

Asmund on the other hand put great effort into learning the tongues of the Lowlands, before leaving his Hold to search for his sister. He learned the common tongue from books he bought from merchants and carefully practiced every new word he learned.

Sigrid speaks in the tongue of the simple people, the voices on the streets. Asmund speaks in the tongue of scholars, the voices inked into books.

[lightningbugqueen]

Dancing With Darkness

Vin’s first ball from Elend’s perspective

I stepped out into the darkness, the mist swirling around my legs, just starting to form. Asmund appeared at my side, looking as put together as ever. We walked into the keep, my mind still ringing from the yelling at our latest meeting. I checked my pockets to make sure I had a book to read, and continued on my way, Asmund trailing behind me.

“Az,” I said as we walked into the ballroom, “You can go on to your dinner, I’m going to be on the balcony.”

“Sir,” he replied, “If I might be so bold as to say that your father will not appreciate it if you refrain from socializing, especially since Lady-” I cut him off, “Az, I appreciate your concern, but I can handle myself. Now, go on to your meal.”

“As you wish my lord.” And with that, he swept away to the back room where the servants ate. I walked along the wall furtively, hoping my father wouldn’t spot me. No matter what I said to Asmund, I did not want to encounter him tonight. I sat at a table, looking around. I noticed a new girl, sitting alone with her terrisman still there, obviously nervous. I watched as three men approached her, and she smiled and graciously turned them down. Her slight build and short black hair reminded me of a sparrow, preparing to take flight. Though I could not see her face, I could tell she was beautiful, if in an unconventional way. I returned to reading my book and was sucked in for quite a while. Finally, I decided it was time to get away from all those aristocrats, and walked towards the staircase leading to the highest balcony.

I walked up to the stairs, taking them three at a time to reach the top. As I reached the last step I stopped and looked around to see if anyone was there. Damn, I thought, spotting a figure,  No one is ever up here. I walked closer quietly, trying to get a closer look at the girl standing against the railing. It was the girl from below, and I was correct in thinking she was beautiful. She was radiant, her eyes were wide, looking down on the ball with a look of amazement and wonder, as if it weren’t the awful dance of politics and cruelty that I saw. I had to think of a reason to go up and talk to her. What could I do? I looked at the cup of wine that I had grabbed from a waiter downstairs, and an idea popped in my head.

“Now, see, here’s the problem with going to refill your cup of wine.” She jumped like I had a knife to her throat, and looked at me bewildered. I finally got a real look at her.  She was so different than all the other women downstairs. Not caked in makeup, hair towering above her head, giant frivolous dress beautiful, but actually beautiful. Her hair was ink black and cut short, olive skin tanned and shiny, and her eyes a startling green.

“The problem is,” I said, still trying to engage her in a conversation, “you return to find that your favorite spot has been stolen by a pretty girl,” more like the most incredibly beautiful girl I have ever met I thought, “Now, a gentleman would move on to another place, leaving the lady to her contemplations,” I remembered her look of wonder, “However, this is the best spot on the balcony-it’s the place close enough to a lantern to have good reading light.” Her face still showed her shock at me being there, but then another emotion began to surface, embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” she replied. I was incredibly confused. I was flirting, couldn’t she tell? Instead, she acted subservient and small. I tried again.

“Ah, now I feel guilty,” I said, hoping she would realize I was just joking, “All for a cup of wine. Look, there’s plenty of room for two people here-just scoot over a bit.” I sidled up beside the beautiful girl and pulled out my book, waiting for her to speak to me again. She said nothing, so I looked down and began to read. Why doesn’t she talk? I wondered as I pretended to focus on the pages. My book was enjoyable, but what I was really hoping for was a conversation with the girl.

Finally, she spoke up.

“Do you always read at balls?” she asked me. I thought of the countless beatings on behalf of my father for behaving this way, and my mother standing behind him, doing nothing. She doesn’t need to know that I thought to myself, and replied simply with, “Whenever I can get away with it.”

“Doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose of coming?” she asked, seeming innocently curious, though if anyone else asked me that question I would snap at them, “Why attend if you’re just going to avoid socializing?” It’s not my choice, I wanted to say but knew that would take explaining, so again replied only with “You’re up here too.” She looked angry. What had I said? Women were so complicated.

“I just wanted a brief view of the hall,” she replied, getting more and more flustered, obviously I was doing something wrong.

“Oh?” I said, once again joking with her, “And why did you refuse all three men who asked you to dance?” I smiled, thinking I had gotten her attention, and played with her by returning to my book.

“There were four,” she said. One must have gone up when I wasn’t looking, “And I refused them because I don’t know how to dance very well.” Don’t know how to dance? How can you be raised in a noble family and not know how to dance?

“You know,” I said, hoping to compliment her, and honestly surprised on how brave she was, “You’re a lot less timid than you look.”

“Timid?” She asked, sounding offended, “I’m not the one staring at his book when there’s a young lady standing by him, never having properly introduced himself.” The way she said it sounded strange. It was as though she practiced these words but never had the chance to use them. Like she was trying to act like those snobs downstairs but was really a decent person. I decided to play along.

“Now, see, you sound like my father. Far better looking, but just as grumpy.” She just glared at me, not saying a word. I rolled my eyes, deciding she actually wanted my name.

“Very well, let me be the gentleman them.” I said finally, “I am Lord Elend” I searched my mind for a new lady who fit her description. There was only one, Lady Renoux. “Lady Valette Renoux, might I have the pleasure of sharing this balcony with you whilst I read?” I put on a show, being as funny as possible because it was obvious she didn’t get my sarcasm. She folded her arms, and just leaned against the railing, obviously unsatisfied.

“You still haven’t told me why you would rather read than participate,” she said, somewhat angrily. I decided on an excuse.

“Well, see, I’m not exactly the best dancer either.”

“Ah” She still looked at me warily, as if I were plotting against her or something. That idea was completely ridiculous, however, so I pushed it out of my mind.

“But” I raised a finger, “that’s only part of it. You may not realize this yet, but it’s not that hard to get overpartied. Once you attend five or six hundred of these balls, they start to feel a bit repetitive.” She only shrugged her shoulders.

“You’d probably learn to dance better if you practiced.” I raised my eyebrow, surprised at this criticism.

“You’re not going to let me get back to my book are you?”

“I wasn’t intending to.” I sighed, only slightly disappointed. She was fun talking to, much more so than those frivolous freaks downstairs.

“Well, then. Do you want to go dance instead?” I genuinely wanted to see if she was lying, as many do if they don’t want to dance. I had done so on many occasions. She froze. I realized I had just said a very good line, without realizing it. She probably thought I was smooth when all I was was socially awkward.

“That’s a no, I assume,” I said, hoping to free her-and myself- of this awkward situation, “Good-I thought I should offer since we’ve established that I’m a gentleman. However, I doubt the couples below would appreciate us trampling their toes.”

“Agreed,” she said, “What are you reading?” Finally, something I could answer with enthusiasm.

“Dilisteni. Trials of Monument. Heard of it?” I doubted she had. Sure enough, she shook her head. “Ah, well. Not many have.” I leaned against the railing as well and watched to horror below. “So, what do you think of your first experience at court?”

“It’s very...overwhelming,” she said, truth on her face.

I thought about my cruel father, hosting this party. I remembered my spot at the big table of the balcony, always set, never used.

“Say what you will about House Venture-they know how to throw a party.” She didn’t need to know my full name. She nodded.

“You don’t like House Venture then?” she asked. You have no idea.

“Not particularly, no. They’re an ostentatious lot, even for high nobility. They can’t just have a party, they have to throw the best party. Never mind they run their servents ragged setting it up, then beat the poor things in retribution when the hall isn’t perfectly clean the next morning.” I thought she would understand my sentiment. She just cocked her head at me, looking confused. Maybe she didn’t agree. “But, well, nevermind that. I think your Terrisman is looking for you.” She looked around and yelped.

“I’ve got to go.” She began to walk towards the stairwell.

“Ah, well then,” I said, disappointed that she was leaving, “back to reading it is.”

[asmund-scion-of-ice]

So I don't really do the shipping thing, but I was falling asleep and had a vision:

Karlach x Shadowheart. Shadowlach? Nah. Karheart? Cute af

Just imagining a "modern" au where Shadowheart and Karlach have an evening of fun, and in the morning, Shadowheart gets out of bed and can only find Karlach's big Carhartt work jacket to wear.

Like the big sweatshirt thing!

[herrings]

letters to bergliez.

                       10th of the verdant rain moon, imperial year 1170

today is the day. today is the day where asmund comes to collect the mail! oh, he’s been desperately awaiting for this moment since his wednesday lessons concluded, to where ink would soon splotch upon his little hands and mother would scold him for being too wasteful. the days dragged with the consistency of molasses; as miraculous as slumber was did its magic become ineffective against infinite minutes and painstaking days. by the time monday’s dawn breaks upon the hevring estate, linhardt’s already finished three-quarters of the week’s assignments in his restless state, only accompanied by the dreary drone of hevring’s ceaseless showers and the restless shaking of an impatient leg.

that’s to say, all that waiting pays off the moment the grandfather clock strikes five o’clock! it takes a miracle greater than what the goddess can accord for the small heir to rise and an even stronger will for him to wiggle out of his makeshift cocoon. a hand pats his bedside drawer, searching until the tips of his fingers brush against the creased edge of an envelope. the touch instantaneously summons forth the rise of a thrilled grin and linhardt feels his heart run, the anticipation of a furtive plan wards away any remnants of slumber. a seal of verdun green glistens in a near sunless room (it’s the wax seal that he’s stamped himself!), beneath the insignia of house hevring lays the woes of a boy separated by land and political disputes from a friend he dearly misses. but not for long, because father’s back at enbarr and he’s figured out the bergliez’s address, which means nothing will stop him from speaking to his best friend now!

well, except for if the letters go to ervin. but he doesn’t really care about ervin and ervin knows he doesn’t really care about him, so why would he want to send a letter to him? and why would ervin want to read it? he’s made sure to put caspar’s name in gigantic script on the back and even the front, to make it clear that the letter is for caspar von bergliez.

the treasured note is slipped into the pocket of his jammies. the occasional droplet of water hitting against the windowsill implies an incoming rain which means he has to keep the letter dry before delivery. his favorite blanket, wool dyed a deep pine green, is thrown over his shoulders and wrapped as a makeshift capelet before the small heir creeps out the threshold of his room and heads to the grand staircase. he has to be careful or else mother or one of the servitors will wake up and shoo him back to bed. if he goes back to bed then he’ll go back to sleep then, if he goes back to sleep, he won’t be awake by the time asmund comes to collect the mail and that means he has to wait another week before he can talk to caspar. he’s already waited enough!

it’s freezing outside. it takes about thirty seconds before linhardt starts shivering, fingers weakly grasping around his blanket tighter. mist falls heavily upon the territory as the sun shyly begins to peak over the mountains; it’ll be a while until asmund arrives. caspar’s letter has to be the first letter asmund collects though since it’s obviously the most important, so that eliminates any desire for the little hevring heir to escape back into the warmth of his family’s manor. burning nostrils aside, the young boy stays outside and gives an experimental huff, watching as his breath condenses. he wishes asmund could arrive faster.

         .  .  .  .

5th of the verdant rain moon, 1170

     to my best friend caspar,

did you read that? it says caspar, not ervin. if ervin’s reading this, do give the letter to caspar. it’s not for you.

if caspar is reading this, hi. it’s linhardt, your best friend. i wanted to talk to you again. do you know how to write a letter? i don’t think you do but that’s okay because i do and i’m going to help you! you say the letter is for me, linhardt von hevring, on top. that’s the greeting. then, you make some space and write what  you want to me. that’s the body. then you make some more space and sign your name. ‘your best friend, caspar’ because you’re my best friend. then you put it in an envelope and send it back to me.

does it rain a lot in bergliez? i want to go to bergliez but father said i can’t because your family are ‘barbarians.’  that means you guys are stupid. i don’t think it’s nice for him to say that, even if it's true about ervin. i heard it's very green in bergliez. i want to see what it looks like because it’s very grey in hevring, but i don’t think father will let me because your family is stupid.

i wanted to go walk to bergliez, but it’s a very long walk and i’ll get tired even if i want to see you again. if i get tired, i’ll go to sleep. if i go to sleep outside the estate mother says i’ll get kidnapped, which means i’ll get stolen. if i get stolen, she’ll cry and get her tears all over me. i guess since i’ll be kidnapped it won’t be me but she’ll get her tears all over someone and that’s rude. i don’t want my mother to cry and be rude so i can’t see you until father says i can. can you make your family less stupid so i can visit? you can start with ervin. tell him to read a book.

                                 from your best friend,                                             linhardt

P.S. by the way, this means ‘postscript.’ it’s supposed to be an ‘afterthought’ which is your thoughts after what you wanted to say. do you have pheasants in bergliez? they’re birds that taste good and have long tails. did you know they only live up to a year? that means we’ve lived the life of six pheasants so far! they’re birds but they can’t fly either. they like to run. i think that’s why they only live up to a year. birds are supposed to fly not run. maybe if they flew more, other animals wouldn’t eat them. @tabarzin

[thetakenpokemon]

Act 2 - Memories of Hatred

[Location: GoT HQ] [PoV: Asmund]

I loudly trudge through the hall, Pokemon of all kinds immediately stepping aside in order to avoid being in my direct path.

Normally I’d feel some sort of satisfaction when Pokemon dodge my approaching form, how their faces immediately twist into expressions of surprise and fear. But right now? I’m not feeling satisfied. In fact, I’m not feeling much of anything.

After stopping at the Great Oak Memorial, my thoughts have been all over the place. Memories and quashed feelings are threatening to break from their cage, a cage forged from anger.

‘Their judgement is for me to deliver, for THEY are the ones who have committed ATROCITIES against ME!’

My form stops, the words leaking into my mind like the contents of a barrel spilling out from the cracks.

‘ No… They have tormented me, starved me of food, and then…MURDERED me.’

Those words...

‘And they didn’t stop there, no…they imprisoned my soul into this body with the intentions of enslaving me. ‘

That rage...

“Now… I will ask this once, so listen…closely. You will bring your prisoners to me, for I will deliver the fate that they deserve. Fail to do this… …You should have a good idea.”

I remember it all.

...

...

...

The Delphox merely shakes her head, with a soft breath through her nose she takes a bold step towards me. “We will do no such thing.” She says firmly, her face unwavering.

“Then…” I hiss, loading a cannonball with a loud clack. “You shall suffer the same fate as the rest of them.”

The Pokemon before me draw their weapons and channel their power, preparing for the inevitable conflict.

But who are they to think that they can stand in my way? I have already killed so many other Pokemon, they are no different.

They...will fucking die like the rest.

“Wait.” The black and gray Delphox speaks again, her emerald green eyes shining in the torchlight. She extends a hand out to her companions, gesturing for them to back away. “I will handle this.”

The look of conflict in their eyes is almost as laughable as the fact that she thinks that she can take me on her own. The bitch is a Delphox, she can’t do shit to me. Fire and electricity washed harmlessly over my form, psychic power can’t even get a hold of me.

I will fucking crush her for thinking otherwise.

Her companions do as she urges, reluctantly backing away.

Ohhh there’s many ways I can end this. I could just shoot her with the cannonball I have loaded, but...it wouldn’t be as satisfying.

No...

I need to crush her, to have my fist cave in her skull and flatten her into nothing but paste and sharded bones.

I charge.

My vision is a blur, the sheer red from the burning inferno inside me fueling my actions. A loud roaring sound fills the air, and it only took me a moment to realize that this roar is coming from me. I raise my fist into the air before bringing it down upon her form, intending to brutally kill her just as I have killed all the others.

Yet the bitch had the audacity to not accept her fate. Instead she leaps to the side, causing my punch to instead strike the ground, instantly sending debris everywhere as a new crater is formed in the stone.

Upon landing, she lowers her form close to the ground and releases her staff, causing the wood to softly clatter onto the ground. Upon doing so, she stands back up and looks at me calmly. “There is no need to fight.” She says softly.

“Like you fucking have a choice!” I roar. Fuck the most satisfying way to kill, now I want her dead.

In one swift motion I aim my cannon and fire, launching the cannonball straight at her form with a loud clack. Yet again she dodges, this time by throwing herself to the ground, allowing the cannonball to sail over her form and crash into the distant wall of the cavern.

At the edge of my vision I see the other Pokemon beginning to approach me. “Stay back!” The Delphox shouts. “Do not interfere!”

Who does this fucking bitch think she’s doing?! Is she trying to set a message? To show that she can win while doing absolutely nothing?!

Who the fuck does she think she is?

Does she even REALIZE the shit I went through?

I suffered greatly at the hands of fucking Pokemon. They took away EVERYTHING that I am, leaving me in this fucking thing. This isn’t my original body anymore.

Realization is starting to dig its claws into my mind, the shock of all that has happened fading, leaving nothing but despair.

I shove it all back and lock it into a cage, allowing the inferno fueled by hate to contain it.

With a growl I start approaching the Delphox.

She sits up before resting her hands on her dress, her eyes possessing a look that I...can’t figure out.

As I get closer, she speaks up.

“What is your name?”

The words cause my rage to freeze, the desire to murder her being halted due to the sheer confusion I’m feeling.

Did...she seriously just ask me for me name? I’m... I’m trying to fucking kill her!

Fucking Pokemon, not realizing shit even when it’s directly in their face. They are so self-absorbed in their own sense of superiority that they overlook everything that isn’t about them.

They overlook the fact that everything they have came from Humans. They overlook the fact that we made guns as a way to compensate for what we lack. They overlook the fact that we made many things just so we’re not left in the dust.

Pokemon have it all. Strength, speed, stamina, durability, supernatural powers... If a Human were to fight a Pokemon, nearly every case would end with the Human severally beaten or even killed.

And this...fucking Delphox is no different. She is so egotistical that she thinks that she can just choose not to fight?!

It is about fucking time that Pokemon are shown that they’re not at the top anymore. By their own fucking volition they gave a Human the tools to fight them. I am a fucking Pokemon killing machine. Hell, seeing how these ruins were? I wouldn’t be fucking surprised if the people here made this thing SPECIFICALLY to fight and kill Pokemon.

If that’s the case? I intend to put it to full fucking use. My life is gone, but at least I get to avenge what I lost as well as every other Human who suffered at the hands of these freaks.

Upon reaching the Delphox I grab her, my hand easily being large enough to engulf her upper-torso as well as her neck. I effortlessly lift her up to my face, my glowing red eyes growing ever brighter.

“You don’t fucking deserve to know my name.” I hiss at her.

She’s completely at my mercy now. All it takes is one squeeze and she’ll pop like a grape, just like that fucking Gothitelle.

Yet for some fucking reason, she’s still just as calm as she was earlier.

And...it’s...fucking infuriating me to no end.

“I will not ask for it then.” She responds to me, her voice still as soft as it was earlier. Her eyes though still contain that same look as it did, and I still can’t fucking understand what it means.

Her voice becomes even softer. “I will never say that I will know what you’ve through. However I do understand that you have experienced pain and suffering like none other... It is unforgivable what they’ve done to you...”

She closes her eyes. “The damage that’s been done can never be healed, but...at least try to let us make up for what they have done to you, even if it won’t make everything right.” She lets out a breath. “It’s the least we can do.”

I know that look now.

Remorse.

She’s not looking at me with pity or conceit, she’s not trying to fight me because she thinks she’s above me. She...

...

Fuck this.

Fuck Pokemon.

Fuck...everything.

I want to kill her so, so bad. I want to crush her body with my hand and let her crumple into nothing but a pile of flesh and blood. I want her to die. I want her to fucking die!

But now I can’t, because I’d feel fucking GUILTY for doing it.

With a loud growl I release her from my grip, letting her form drop to the ground.

Why did all of this happen to me? What did I possibly do to deserve all of this?! Did I unwittingly do something that turned the whole universe against me? To make me experience pain, hopelessness, and then fucking take away everything that made me Human?

I thought that I was able to get even, to get some satisfaction in killing the ones who did this to me.

But now...? I can’t even finish it, because I’d feel fucking GUILTY.

The universe hates me, because it won’t even let me have that satisfaction.

What is there for me to even do now? I can’t go back to Progria because people will see me as some sort of Pokemon at best, or a dangerous threat at worst. I can’t stay in Evolutia, since I have nothing here to call my own, not including the fact that I fucking hate Pokemon.

So that’s it, huh? To just sit here and do nothing? To see if my body is capable of breaking down? Or will the universe not even let me have that, and I’d be forced to destroy myself until I’m guaranteed a safe passing?

For all I know I might just instead destroy my form enough to not be able to move anymore, yet I’d still be conscious, left to sit in a dark void for the rest of my life.

My...

My life is a living hell.

...

The Delphox is sitting up at this point, looking at me silently as my mind sinks deeper and deeper into a very dark place.

Yet...despite it all, one thing she said manages to prevent me from fulling falling in

“How can you help me?” I finally ask her, bitterness tainting my every word.

“We can give you a place to stay.” She answers immediately. “What you do there however is entirely up to you.”

If my face were capable of movement, I’d be narrowing my eyes. And yet despite what may be my better judgement, another question seeps out.

“What is it you fucking Pokemon do?”

For her credit, she looks completely unphased. “We protect others.” She responds calmly. “We are known as the Guardians of Twilight, a guild who fights dangerous threats to society and protect those who are incapable of protecting themselves.” She bows her head again. “However we don’t intend to push this onto you. If you so desire, you can stay with us until you find your way again.”

Find my way? Find my way?!

There is no direction I can take anymore. There’s no place for me in fucking society. How the fuck does she think that I’d be able to find some purpose for myself?!

Hell, seeing how I am right now? I doubt I can even fucking eat or drink anymore, so what purpose is there even for me?!

...

Yet...

She says they fight shit?

...

My body is a murder machine. After seeing how easily I killed so many Pokemon, I could probably just use it to kill things. I mean, what other purpose is there? It’s not like I can fucking paint with this shit.

...

To fight to protect...?

...

It’s not like I have anything left.

Fucking...Pokemon...

...

With the red glow in my eyes disappearing entirely, I finally speak again.

“...My name...

...is Asmund.”

The faintest of smiles form on her lips. “Greetings, Asmund. I am known as Nightshade, however...” She stands up, bowing to me. “...you may call me Jezebel.”

...

...

...

“Asmund?”

The voice breaks me from my thoughts, making me realize that I’m just staring into space. My body is still standing in the middle of this hallway of the GoT HQ, effectively creating a minor roadblock to all Pokemon trying to pass through.

I turn my gaze to the speaker, only to notice that it’s no other than Jezebel.

The Delphox looks slightly disheveled, her hair sticking in various directions despite the clear effort in trying to make it look decent. Her eyes are baggy and bloodshot, her form slightly sagging due to the result of clear sleep deprivation.

Yet despite it all, she’s looking at me with concern.

...

Fucking Pokemon...

“It’s nothing...” I mutter. “Just reminiscing, that’s all.”

She blinks at me before slowly nodding. “I see.. In that case, I won’t pry..” She simply says.

She’s...an often hard one to read, yet I’ve started to see the hints. She definitely wants to inquire about what’s going on in my head, but by having a sense of decency...she doesn’t. Instead she nods goodbye to me before walking past, making her way down the hall.

“Hey.” I speak up loudly, causing her to stop and look back at me with surprise and confusion.

She quickly got a hold of herself though, the reserved look returning. “Yes, Asmund?”

Honestly? The next words that came from my mouth were...painful, yet it would be even more painful to have them left unsaid.

“You’re pretty alright...for a Pokemon.”

She blinks again and again. Although she’s known for her reservedness, once she registers the words I said? An uncharacteristically wide smile spreads on her face.

Despite the overflowing joy she’s experiencing, she quickly recomposes herself and lets her grin return to a small yet respectful smile. “Thank you, Asmund. That means a lot to me.”

To her credit, she doesn’t look tired anymore.

“Yeah... Just don’t fucking let it go to your head.” I mutter before turning around, walking back the way I came.

I don’t say another word, nor do I look back. I just focus on the path ahead of me.

As I turn a corner, the words slowly leak out of my mouth as a quiet mumble.

“It’s the least I can do...”

[storytimejustice]

Astrid Toft

1.How do they present themselves to others?

She’s a brave woman that doesn’t need anyone and only cares for herself.

2.Do they like animals?

Of course!

3.How do they dress?

Fairly normal with jeans and a t-shirt. She never had a need for anything too out there.

4.How many languages do they know?

She only knows English which is the language spoken across the world

5.How big is their family?

She’s alone. Her technical parents were turned into Celestials upon their death and she was taken away from her birth parents. She has her technically twin sister but doesn’t count her.

6.What is their purpose in the story?

A main character. A lightning mage with her goal of destroying Rixheia.

7.Do they know how to fight?

She was born ready to fight with a blade but is learning with other weapons.

8.What is their back story?

When Scarlett and Asmund were dying they fused their magics and their magic weapons and twenty years later they formed and became Astrid and Anastasia. Born to a peasant family Rixheia sensed her power and separated her from her parents and placed her in charge of a weapons factory.

9.Why is their name, their name?

I wanted to name my flour child a really pretty name and I chose Astrid for the bigger flour bag.  

10.Do they have any nicknames?

Nope

11.Do they have a romantic interest?

Nope

12.How do they cope with struggles?

Force their way through them.

13.Do they have anyone they can lean on?

Herself.

14.How do they react to someone dying?

Depends on who it is but normally doesn’t feel too much about it.

15.Can you name 5 personality traits they have?

Brave

Ignorant

Isolated

Smart

Rebel

16.How did they become a character?

We had a flour baby assignment for school and I wanted to make characters based off them.

17.Do they get along with others?

Depends but not normally.

18.What flaws do they have?

So many trust issues.

19.How do they influence the story?

She’s a main character she is the story.

20.What do they look like?

Shoulder-length red hair, green eyes, hardly any freckles for a ginger

21.What are their hobbies?

She’s good with her hands, inventing and creating stuff.

22.How do they react to people telling them they are wrong?

Prove herself to be correct.

 23.Do they like children?

She had to work over them for years so she tolerates them.

24.How do they react to being around wild animals?

She’ll scare them before they scare her.

25.If they were given the task to prank someone, who would it be, what would they do, and would the prank work?

She would prank Anastasia with something that would temporarily mess up her outfit for the day and it would go through flawlessly.

26.Do they have any survival skills?

She knows how to start a fire and hunt for a meal but not too great at building a shelter.

27.Are they more book smart or street smart?

Street smart

28.How do they get out of a difficult situation?

Fight her way out

29.Do they use their body, mind, personality, or force to get what they want?

Mind first and if that doesn’t work force normally will. Although normally she doesn’t want much.

30.What music do they enjoy?

She doesn’t really have any taste for music because of where she grew up. She loves the sounds of machines at work though.

31.How do they overcome obstacles?

If she can’t get around it she’ll go through.

32.When faced with a difficult decision do they get stronger or break?

Stronger

33.Do they have any special powers?

Lightning magic and a natural ability to wield a blade.

34.How do they change throughout the story?

She does become far more trusting and more powerful as her link to Anastasia grows.

35.Do they have any friends? If so, are they close knit?

She doesn’t really have friends. The people who consider her a friend when she finally claims them as a part of her life she claims them as family.

36.How is their family life?

What family life OOF

37.Are they likable?

Depends if you like a hot-headed, strong, independent woman. But Anastasia enjoys having her around.

38.Are they the hero, or anti-hero?

Hero

39.Do they make questionable choices?

Who doesn’t?

40.How do they become who they are?

Beginning of the story she’s completely out of trust and has pure hatred for the gods because of Rixheia taking over the world and separating her from her parents.

End of the story she still is hesitant on trusting people but she’s definitely grown to give people chances and her vendetta is gone as they successfully defeated Rixheia.

41.How was their childhood?

Rough. She was put into a factory after being taken from her parents and soon took charge over it.

42.Are they close with anyone who is going to screw them over?

Yeah and that’s how more trust issues come into play.

43.How do they adapt to different situations? Do they adapt at all?

She makes most difficult situations morph and adapt to her.

44.How do they speak? Examples - Are they soft spoken, hot headed, vulgar

She’s very stubborn and gets aggressive easily.

45.Are they opposed to violence?

Nope

46.When is their birthday?

February 18th

47.Are they quick to judge?

Very much so

48.Do they have anything they are trying to hide from others?

Weakness

49.Do they act different around different people?

Nope, she’s very straightforward

50.Do they enjoy the arts?

She likes drawing her own sketches for inventions and everything.

51.Do they like science?

Yes!

52.Are they more emotional or logical?

While being hard-headed and aggressive she does tend to hide her emotions and use her mind first.

53.How do they deal with their emotions?

A steel vault shall do

54.How do they cope with sadness?

A STEEL VAULT SHALL DO

55.What is something they care about?

Elkmire

56.Would they die for anyone/anything?

Only if it meant she took Rixheia down with her.

57.What do they do when they are happy?

Joke around, practice sword fighting, talk with her rebellion family.

58.How would they come across to other characters? Examples - Messy, lazy, childish, caring, etc.

Stubborn and aggressive

59.Do they have a phrase they use over and over?

Nah

60.In a crowded room are they in the corners, sides, or in the middle?

Definitely all around. Mingling with everyone trying to slyly draw information from everyone.

61.Are they comfortable being in a crowded room?

Depends if she has enough room to draw a blade.

62.What is their sexuality?

Asexual but romantically interested in girls.

63.Have they ever harmed anyone and regretted it? Verbally or physically?

Yes a couple of times

64.Do they like to dance?

Hah

65.How do they get around their environment? Examples - Horses, bike, vehicles

Since Rixheia yeeted Elkmire back into ancient times they use aurora-wolf drawn carriages. That’s only them though most people are pulled by horses. Some by humans that can transform.

66.What is their pet peeve(s)?

Morning people, nosy people, EVILLLLLLLLL, sick people that still wish to be around civilization

67.Do they have a disability?

Nope

68.How do they react to getting flowers?

Very flustered. Acts like she doesn’t want them but once the gifter is gone makes sure they go into a pretty vase and get taken care of.

69.Would they ever wear a flower crown?

Depends who asks her to and it wouldn’t be for long.

70.Do they like themselves?

She wishes she had more meat on her bones and that she had an easier time trusting people but outside of that, yeah.

71.Who do they dislike?

The gods

72.When do they realize their true potential?

Right before the final fight against Rixheia after the ball.

73.Do they have any markings on their body?

She has some burns on her hands from years of metalwork and some scars from when she screwed up on the job.

74.Have they ever been abused

Yes she has.

75.What is their biggest fear?

Failing herself and the kingdom

76.What are their goals?

To free the world from Rixheia’s hold

77.How do they go about achieving their goals?

Doing anything she possible can as long as she keeps her morals in line

78.Do they have a fight or flight response?

Full fight response. You sneak up on her you’ll wind up with something broken, stabbed, or sliced off.

79.Is there someone in their life that they care about more than themselves?

In the end her rebellion family.

80.How would they fair in the zombie apocalypse?

Pretty excellent even if she didn’t have her lightning magic and just had her natural sword fighting ability

81.Do they have any tattoos? If so, are they significant?

Before the ball she has a dagger enchanted along with a sheath for it and when she has it on her thigh it turns into a tattoo of a dagger and she just has to hold her hand next to it and the blade will fall into her hand and the sheath will appear when she wants to place it back along with celestial tattoos she shares with Anastasia.

82.Are they good at mental math?

Fairly decent at it but not the best considering she never went to school

83.Do they get along with others?

Depends. Are they snobbish?

84.Are they lazy?

You call her lazy and she will literally make a sword specially to slice you apart

85.Are they self motivated?

Yeah 

86.How do they cope with anger?

Practicing fighting. Lots and lots of practice. Or going on a mission.

87.Have they ever been in a situation where they were helpless?

Being trapped as a child slave at a weapons factory definitely makes this a yes

88.Are they organized or messy?

Organized

89.Can they remember a lot of information at once?

She remembers all

90.What is their occupation?

Rebel

Blacksmith

91.Do other characters respect your OC, if so, is it out of fear? Or do they respect your OC because they like them?

Depends on the person but most out of fear

92.If they were given minutes to live, what would they do? Who would they want to see and say?

She would want to see Rixheia and get at least a few shots in before she died. If it’s after that then probably Anastasia and Nova and just thank them for everything.

93.How do they deal with stress?

Oh boy she loves SWORD FIGHTING

94.Do they have a more submissive or dominant personality type?

Dominant

95.Do they have a pet?

I mean the rebels have Saros Anastasia’s ice serpent and the aurora wolves along with a few horses.

96.Do they have a stash of weapons?

YES

97.Where do they live? Who do they live with?

A little cottage outside of Castle Elkmire’s walls in between it and Emera in the end with Anastasia

98.How do they calm themselves down?

She punches out her anger

99.Are they co-dependent?

Completely independent

100.Are they a day, or night person?

Midday to night

[lunarchroniclesfan]

My Story Pt. 2 - What it’s actually about

Hope? Hope hurts.  Home? Who knows what that is?  Happy endings? Do they even happen? 

----

Ericka Michelle Asmund has been unwanted for as long as she can remember. Her earliest memory is of her father abandoning her in grief after her mother’s death. After that, a long string of homes - each making her work to earn her keep and each subsequently sending her away. 

After turning eighteen, she receives a letter in the mail.  A year ago her father died and she is now the sole benefactor of his estate. To her surprise, not only was her childhood spent among the wealthiest society in the world - On Dorian Isle - she now has a place to stay there.  Her only other choice, to spend her life in a smelter’s workhouse, doesn’t seem like much of  a choice at all. Therefore, her decision is clear. Upon arriving at Dorian Isle, however, she finds nothing is as she expected it to be. 

The strange circumstances surrounding her father’s death were never investigated. She tries, and fails to tell herself she doesn’t care. He is, after all, the man who abandoned her and started the chain reaction to her miserable life. That’s not even the worst of it. 

The letter that brought her to Dorian Isle, her childhood home, wasn’t true. It wasn’t Ericka who inherited her father’s estate, but a boy with burning ember eyes. His name is Fenix and he comes with a lot of mysteries all his own.  She doesn’t understand why he allows her to stay with him, expecting nothing in return. She doesn’t understand why fire responds to his commands or why his skin is so hot to the touch. She especially understand why he can stand barefoot in the snow.  Then there’s how he treats her better than anyone ever has. She’s never a nuisance or a brat in his presence. When she speaks, he listens. When she’s hurt, he comforts her. When he looks at her..it’s as if those amber eyes are peering straight into her soul. Strangest of all his behaviors, is the way he’s so protective of her. 

Fenix tells her not to get involved but there are too many questions and not enough answers.

She can’t shake her curiosity... If she’s not truly the inheritor of her father’s estate, why was she really brought back?  Where does the strange portal underneath her house lead? What really happened to her father? What does she need to be protected from?  Could she be next? 

[lisinfleur]

Lady of the Lake - Epilogue: All the small things

Author's notes: Here it is, one more work finished! Thank you @dangerousvikings for the inspiration, sweet @honestsycrets for the help with the biggest decisions and all of you for the presence in one more of my series!

Warnings: None. Just sweetness!

Words: 1437

“Is not the same, Sigs. I’ll need some more training to adapt to this new situation”, Siv said, letting go of the sword and sitting near the water jar, pouring some for them both to refresh a little.

Six months after the event, her face was permanently marked by a scar and her eyes were now different from each other: the left eye was grey, almost white; while the right one remained the wild green Sigurd always thought was so beautiful.

“It’s not fair!” he complained, sitting by her side and accepting the cup of water she offered “You can’t fight anymore and this is my…”

Before he could finish his sentence, Siv placed her hand in his mouth, shutting him up.

“Stop,” she said, softly “You would have done the same for me and you know this, Sigurd”.

“I also know how much you trained to become a shieldmaiden and how much you loved it,” he said, sighing frustratedly.

“I’m not retired, silly one,” she smiled, taking a sip from her cup “I’ll be fine, Sigs. I just have to train my sight camp again. I won’t be able to go in the next raids, but I think in one season or two I’ll be kicking your ass once again” she joked, smiling bigger.

“I think we should… Nah. Let it go. Stupid idea,” Sigurd cut his own thought getting up to gather their things.

But Siv held him by the hand, looking straight into his eyes.

“Say it,” she said, and Sigurd noticed she knew how his sentence would end.

“I know you feel uncomfortable with it because of your father’s words, Siv…” he started, feeling her grip in his hand become a little tighter.

Some agony in her eyes when she started speaking.

“I held myself and swallowed my feelings about you for all this time because of my father’s words. I almost lost you because of my fear to become what he said. I could have told you about my love and you wouldn’t be alone to allow that damn monster to mesmerize you that way, Sigs,” Siv said, holding the glare deeply into his eyes “I lived my entire life running away from my father’s words, trying to prove he was wrong about me. I didn’t play when I was a kid, I didn’t date anyone, my life was entirely dedicated to the frustrations of a dead man. I don’t wanna lose any more time of my life because of him. Please, Sigurd… Say it,” she asked.

Sigurd could see she was fighting herself, her own fears, for them.

Fighting for him once again.

But in this fight, he could help her. He could be strong for them and borrow his strength for her to win her monsters.

He softly took Siv’s hands into his and caressed her fingers with his thumbs. There was no other woman for him but the one who risked her own life for his, for loving him. She was the one and he knew this.

“I know you want to keep training and going into raids… But since you’ll be a time away from this…” he took a breath and with it, the courage to say the words until the end “I think we should get married”.

Siv smiled.

Through her entire life, she fought that name and her father’s words like a curse. But it wasn’t a curse beside him… To be Sigurd’s bride, his soon-to-be wife… It sounded like a dream. A dream she kept into herself as a secret for too long to keep pretending it wasn’t there.

“I agree with you,” she said, trying not to sound so emotional, “I think I already did enough to deserve a bigger title than ‘Sigurd’s girlfriend’” she tried to joke.

But Sigurd didn’t laugh this time. Since that day, when she almost died for him, he was constantly thinking about this.

About how many years they lost or how happy they could have made each other.

Sigurd knew Siv since when? He couldn’t even remember how long or how was his life before he knew that girl. She knew him better than anyone else. She was always by his side. He didn’t want to lose any more time and his seriousness caused Siv’s breath to fail and her heart to skip a beat.

Would he…

“Siv…” he started.

And so, she knew he would.

“I want you to be my wife,” he stated, with all the letters this time.

No open breaches for questioning.

“I don’t wanna lose any more time. I want to seal what we both know is the fate the Gods blessed me with. At the end of this moon, we’ll have the spring festivals and I want to celebrate them with our marriage this year. Do you…” he started the question, but Siv went in her tiptoes and kissed him deeply, embracing his neck and mumbling against his lips when the kiss was over.

“I do,” she said, smiling at him when he embraced her waist, smiling back “I do, Sigs. I want to be your wife!”

They exchanged a passionate kiss, long and deep, full of all that love they had locked into themselves for so long. The kiss only parted when Ivar’s voice sounded, warning the younger brother was coming into the training camp, kinda surprising the couple.

“I will be offended if you choose any of our brothers other than me to offer your wife a way to you, Sigurd.”

Sigurd frowned, looking at his brother with a confused expression.

“Why would you want to do anything for me, Ivar?” the bardic prince questioned, keeping Siv’s waist embraced, despite his younger brother’s presence.

Ivar chuckled.

“Not for you. For her,” he said, smiling at Siv.

And Siv smiled back looking at Ivar and surprising the cocky brother with her tender words.

“I wouldn’t want anyone else,” she said “I’ll always remember you helped me, Ivar. You gave me a way to Sigurd once and I wouldn’t want this to be different now”.

They smiled to each other and Sigurd relaxed, lowering his guard. Maybe it would be a good way to calm down things between them both, after all…

   ---

“In the spring festival of that year, your father and I were married in a beautiful ceremony we made in the woods, near that lake where everything happened”, Siv said, smiling at the couple of kids she had attentively listening to her words – a boy, around five years old, conceived at the year she got married to Sigurd as a sign of the Gods satisfaction with the union; and a girl around three years old; both of them blonde like their father who leaned himself at the door, looking at the three of them.

The kids sat on their beds. The boy – Asmund, which name means “divine protection” – spoke first.

“Now I wanna hear that one about your raid with fadir to England!”

His sister – Skuld, as a gift to the goddess who wrote their good fate – came right after him.

“NO! I wanna hear this one again!” she complained.

However, Sigurd’s voice sounded before the arguing could start in between the little ones.

“Not one, nor the other. It’s time for the two of you to sleep” he said, sitting in Skuld’s bed, while Siv was covering Asmund “Your mother needs to rest so she can properly cook your brother or sister right here,” he said, softly touching Siv’s swollen belly, caressing it sweetly. “Don’t you two want to see him or her?”

“Yes!” they answered unison, and Siv smiled.

“So, let us all go to bed now. The faster we sleep, the faster the day will come and soon your new brother or sister will be here,” she completed, kissing Asmund’s forehead before doing the same to Skuld.

“Good night,” Sigurd said, receiving a double answer from the children before leaving the room with the door half open.

His stained eyes landed on Siv slowly walking back to their room. The time was approaching for them to know his third child, but she was always so beautiful, full of his seed…

“What? Admiring your giant-swollen-round-fat duck?” she asked, playfully.

Sigurd smiled, coming near, embracing her from behind and caressing her belly while kissing the crook of her neck.

“Just thinking about how happy and lucky I am for being married to you, red-head,” he joked with an old nickname and Siv turned around to kiss him softly.

“Yeah… You’re lucky, Sigs,” she joked back, smiling and nuzzling her nose to his “And so am I.”

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