#in the Storm War and The Duel

[kirain]

I decided to make adult designs and "where are they now" stories for all the child tieflings who are confirmed to survive to Act 3.

Unbeknownst to her, Arabella was a latent sorcerer with a natural connection to the Weave. Her powers likely would've manifested at puberty, but touching the idol of Silvanus imbued her with wild druid magic, multiclassing her prematurely. This caused an internal struggle between the two powers, which threatened to rip her and anyone around her apart. Fortunately, with Withers' guidance, she set out to follow the Weave and found balance in her new, strange abilities. For years she traveled Faerûn alone, honing her skills and making peace with her past. Eventually, she became known as the "Wondering Storm", so attuned to nature some would mistake her for Silvanus' Chosen. Those who crossed her, however, would swear she was Jergal's Chosen; able to end a life with a single stare. Though not unkind, Arabella became feared by many for her stoic personality, mysterious presence, and peculiar command of the Weave. It seemed that wherever she was needed, she would inexplicably be.

Though Raphael went silent, Mol continued to enjoy, and perhaps abuse, the gifts from her patron. With the Absolute defeated, she quickly clawed her way up the ranks of the Guild, eventually becoming a pseudo ward to Nine-Fingers Keene. For years she would sharpen her skills, mentored by Keene and her most trusted associates, until she challenged the notorious crime lord to a duel for leadership. Much to her surprise, Keene lost, and was therefore forced to relinquish command to the young tiefling. Seeing the move as a betrayal, however, the Guild's loyalty was split, causing the criminal powerhouse to fracture. This led to a dark time for the Guild, with many in Baldur's Gate referring to it as the "Outlaw Civil War". Much blood was shed during this conflict, but eventually Mol turned the tides in her favour, running Keene and those still loyal to her out of the city. She would go on to rebuild the Guild in her image, successfully and more fearsome than ever; though, when she approached her old colleagues with an invitation to join, they all declined.

Once he managed to enter the city, Mattis tried to find his companions from the Grove, but he ultimately turned his sights to conning rich families with "panaceas from the hells". For a while, he flourished under this racket, until his scheme was exposed by jealous competition. This led to him being violently assaulted by angry customers, nearly ending his life—he only survived by rolling into a rapid canal. After being saved by a kind, impoverished couple who fished him out of the water, he spent nearly three months confined to a bed. His recovery was slow and agonizing, but hardly discouraging. Instead of succumbing to his misery, he took the time to plot his revenge. With the couple's help, he learned the laws of the land and revived his strength. Then, when able, he cut his hair, disguised his face, spied on the man who wronged him, and subsequently tricked him into signing his business over to the couple. Together, they turned the questionable business into something respectable. Mostly. Mattis' silver tongue finally became an asset, rather than a survival tactic, though he was never above a good swindle.

Ide and Umi took up arms during the Absolute's attack on the city, each of them basking in the action. Realising that Umi had developed an insatiable bloodlust, and itching for more battles herself, Ide suggested they enlist into the army. Though technically too young, the new General—appointed by High Duke Ravengard after the fall of the Absolute—accepted them as apprentices until they came of age.

Though their time with the Flaming Fist was imperative to their training and survival, they found the rules and hypocrisy of the troop disheartening, and even more so when the General died. Eventually they deserted, leaving Baldur's Gate entirely and starting a small band of vigilantes. To some, they were a menace. To others, they became heroes of the Sword Coast. No matter the case, Ide and Umi were inseparable, never seen apart.

Inspired by his saviours, Mirkon continued to write stories about his time in the Grove and his rescue from the harpies. He never found his parents, but he refused to live in the slum's orphanage. Life was hard for the young tiefling, often forcing him to grovel for food and coin. On the worst days, he found comfort turning his stories into songs, which he slowly morphed into a semi-profitable street act. This eventually caught the attention of Alfira, who one day happened to be passing by. Recognising his talent, and overjoyed to be reunited, she took him in and taught him how to play the violin. Together, they created a lucrative show that expanded well beyond the Elfsong Tavern, which aided Alfira in opening her dream college. She and Lakrissa would soon adopt Mirkon, and he would later become one of the most beloved and celebrated instructors at the college.

Though working as a hawker for the Baldur's Mouth kept Silfy fed and relatively sheltered, she grew listless. Dealing with rude and racist customers hardened her enough to snap back, resulting in her termination. With nowhere to go, she found herself wandering into Ramazith's Tower, where she implored Rolan for a job. Feeling for her plight, Rolan put her to work stocking shelves and filling orders. It wasn't exciting work, but she was safe and satisfied, until one day a customer's tome exploded, causing a flurry of rainbow flames that whirled into the shape of a unicorn. This event, though frightening, would inspire Silfy to start reading the books in the shop, with the help of Tolna and Rolan. To everyone's surprise, she proved to have an impressive aptitude for magic, and she soon found herself enthralled. Within just a few years, Silfy would be accepted into Blackstaff Academy, where she would excel in her studies and catch the eye of the great Vajra Safahr. She would offer Silfy a position in the school, as well as a mentorship, but Silfy would politely decline, graduate, and return to Bauldr's Gate. Her true home.

[percyluvr]

hiii could i request a percy x daughter of zeus hcs? 🫶🏼 but my request would be that even though reader is crazy powerful she’s not at all what people would perceive as a “zeus kid” and is honestly laid back and just like percy

percy jackson x daughter of zeus!reader summary: hcs about percy with a gf who's a daughter of zeus

when you first got to camp, percy was definitely thinking "not a daughter of zeus, that guy sucks ass"

yes he judges people he doesn't know, we all do

at first, the two of you could not get along with each other

constantly arguing

you definitely "accidentally" zapped him and he "accidentally" soaked you with water

you both had dish duty for a month and you got to know each other more

he was pleasantly surprised to find that you were nothing like your dad at all

like you were chill af and he was down w that

i think you two definitely still had your arguments because as children of the big three you were very impatient and easily angered, as we saw with thalia and percy

but you got through it (usually after having a duel)

always keeping each other on their toes

if there was another war, you two would be a force you wouldn't want to anger

camp halfblood now has scary dog privileges x2

the two of you train together all the time, but sometimes you get carried away

like, you'll be summoning big storms and shit and he'll like accidentally create a tsunami bc y'all are trynna strengthen your powers

you got yelled at and put back on dish duties for almost ruining the camp

if percy was feeling sad, you would take him by the water and create lightning in the sky in the shape of a heart

immediately makes him smile and he gets all happy and makes a heart in the water

you two are ALWAYS sleeping in each other's cabins

bc like

it gets lonely being strong and sexy and you just wanna feel each other's warmth through the night

i think because you two are children of the big three and you've been through so much, ur nightmares are so much worse

and sleeping in each other's cabins helps you two calm each other down

that's the only reason mr d and chiron let you do it

also, because they couldn't get you to stop no matter how many times they put you on cooking or dish duty

everyone at chb is scared of y'all....

like in heroes of olympus when the other povs show just how scary percy and jason are, i think it would also apply to you as a child of the big three

your dad does NOT approve of him

but neither of you care

poseidon likes you tho, hes a supportive king

you can fly but you're scared to take him with you because you think your dad will zap him right out of the sky

but he always takes you underwater

you guys go to his dad's palace underwater and you meet his tyson

tyson LOVES you more than anything

maybe even more than he loves percy

which is a LOT

you guys are always on quests together, but its fine nobody is really worried

they were when you guys first went on a quest together bc u two still didn't get along then

but now you do

so they know the quest will get done with EASE

y'all work together SO WELL now that you like each other

bc on ur first quest... oh lord..

we won't talk about that tho bc its CRAZY what y'all were doing to each other

but yeah, u guys work together so well and all the quests at camp get done with ease as long as you guys go together

in conclusion, y'all are just a power couple

[bloodpen-to-paper]

So to recap (July 2022 edition) we got:

- 4th of July shooting in Highland Park + a shooting in Chicago

- anyone with a uterus has less rights than an assault rifle in the U.S.; right-wing Scotus can get hit by a plane

- Edit: Native Americans have been added to the list of people with less right than an assault rifle in the U.S.

- a third of the British Parliament resigning from various government positions cause of how much everyone hates Boris Johnson

- Edit: Boris Johnson has now resigned cause of how much everyone hates Boris Johnson

- Shinzo Abe, former Prime Minister of Japan, got shot while giving a speech

- Edit: *Former Former Prime Minister... he got Lincoln’d

- a far-right French politician accidentally pinned the assassination of Shinzo Abe on popular video game designer Hideo Kojima, which a major Greek news outlet relayed, only furthering the idea that Kojima did it

- the war in Ukraine is still going on

- the state of Canada can be summarized by this image:   https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/862558639735046146/995130724791365652/unkown.png

- Hunter Biden got trending on twitter for the hundredth time and nobody gives a shit seriously who gives a shit conservatives get him trending for literally breathing why is this still happening-

- Edit: ... Users of the well known “incel” website 4chan supposedly hacked the iPhone of U.S. President Joe Biden’s son Hunter Biden and allegedly exposed the both of them as pedophiles, among many other things. Sweet shitting Christ almighty, if this is true, I have been proven incorrect in possibly the most cursed way imaginable, and it is a testament to my willpower and spite that I have not fallen in alcoholism from this news piece alone 

- Baymax is a Leftist

- the U.S. House Select Committee began holding live public hearings for the January 6 insurrection and no one noticed

- Kazuki Takahashi, the creator of the popular anime and playing card game Yu-Gi-Oh!, passed away (R.I.P., may he finally be free to kick Shinzo Abe’s ass without consequence in that great dueling arena in the sky...)

- the Argentinian economic minister has resigned (an announcement that was made not through any official news outlets, but via a Tweet) following an inflation crisis that is crippling the country, but all you’ll find on Twitter is people excited about the new futbol jersey for the next World Cup (no one is surprised by this)

- Elon Musk backed out of his deal to purchase Twitter for $44 billion; it was believed he didn’t know the meaning of the term “pulling out” so this was quite the surprise

- Edit: Twitter is now suing Elon Musk for not buying Twitter

- the President of Sri Lanka (not to be confused with the Prime Minister, because they apparently have both) pulled a Ted Cruz and has fled the country after citizens stormed the presidential palace in a mass riot following the announcing of the country being officially bankrupt (which the Prime Minister, not to be confused with the President, totally didn’t cause via corruption in office). The citizens involved in the protest then stormed the house of the PM, and took a swim in his pool promptly before sacking and burning the place, thus proving the month of July is truly a Hot Girl Summer

Edit: Both the PM and President of Sri Lanka have agreed to resign their positions; that is two world leader resignations and one former world leader assassination in one week; I now have the sudden urge to drink myself into 2040

[damianwaynerocks]

ya know how it’s canon that damian was taking acting lessons with carrie? and that he was really good at it?

what if that’s his civilian job when he’s older?

like we know some of the bats have civilian jobs. bruce, obviously, runs WE. tim is CEO. dick is a cop.

what if damian’s civilian job is an actor?

i know it wouldn’t make total sense bc he’d probably have to leave set randomly in the middle of a scene because he’d have to go on a mission but hear me out.

we know he loved acting because he gets to be someone else. carrie says this:

and then damian says the same thing in super sons

yeah he could’ve been saying that to fuck with jon but because carrie said the same thing, i think he was being honest.

and besides, look at how he played that old man. that is a jolly old fella and i personally read it in sweet old man voice.

and the disguises he always chooses when going undercover are outfits like these

and yes you could say that it’s just a gag bit the writer put in to be funny or you could say that that’s how damian feels like “normal” people dress and he’s trying to fit in but to me!! i feel like it’s him trying to be the opposite of how he is. you know, being somebody else.

plus he’s so good with voices. he could easily put on any accent necessary.

and so i think he would be an actor. yeah, he wouldn’t be able to be in gotham all the time filming movies and stuff, but personally i love the idea of damian being like dick and moving out of gotham to become his own hero/person.

he’d get the opportunity to experience what it’s like to be someone else, someone who wasn’t taught to kill someone before they could walk, someone who wasn’t forced to grow up way too fast, someone who doesn’t have to risk their life every single night, somebody who doesn’t have to hold possibly the world’s biggest secret. he could embrace being a completely different person, even if it’s only for a few hours at a time.

and imagine how funny it would be for the batfamily to turn on their tv and watch their mean, stern little brother have a wide smile with an australian accent in a romantic comedy.

jason storming out of the manor after damian insulted him 30 times and then he turns on his tv to get his mind off it and there damian is on a beach searching for treasure side-by-side with tom holland

damian in a wired google search interview and the first result is “is damian wayne robin?” and damian just sighs.

damian on a press tour in an interview and he’s just shooting the shit with jennifer anniston.

tim watching the tiktok edits of damian and just silently fuming at the comments that are like “he’s so babygirl”

damian getting an offer for a star wars movie and yeah, he might hate star wars because the lightsaber duels follow no sword fighting etiquette but he takes the role anyways so that tim can’t watch his beloved star wars without seeing damian wielding a light saber with ewan mccgregor

would dc do it? no definitely not and logistically it wouldn’t work because crimefighter hours probs do not mesh with 14 hour days on set. however!! imagine damian in a buzzfeed puppies interview.

[sagesskies]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴠɪᴄᴛᴏʀʏ ɢᴏᴅ

✒ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡɪɴ, ᴡᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ɢᴏᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇꜱᴛʀᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

✉ - ʟᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀɴᴏɴʏᴍᴏᴜꜱ: ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ɢᴏᴅ x ꜰᴏʀɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ ɢᴏᴅ ᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴛʜɪɴᴋꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱᴛʀᴏɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ꜰᴏʟᴋꜱ, ᴡʜᴏᴏᴘꜱ.

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ: ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ(?) ɢᴏʀᴇ, ʀᴀɪᴅɪɴɢ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɢᴇꜱ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴄʀᴜᴇʟ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴜᴛʜʟᴇꜱꜱ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇʜᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀʀꜱᴏɴ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛɪᴏɴ (ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪɴᴋʏ ᴋɪɴᴅ), ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴏꜰꜰꜱᴘʀɪɴɢ, ʟᴀʀɢᴇ ᴀɢᴇ-ɢᴀᴘ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀ: ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ʜᴜɴᴅʀᴇᴅꜱ ᴏꜰ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴏʟᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴄʜᴀʀ, ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟꜱᴇ!

ᴘʀᴏɴᴜɴᴄɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɢᴜɪᴅᴇ⦂ ꜰᴀɪꜱɪᴀɴ - ꜰᴀɪ-ꜱʜᴀɴ ꜰᴀɪᴀ - ꜰᴀɪ-ʏᴀ ​🇫​​🇦​​🇮​​🇺​​🇸​- ​🇫​​🇦​​🇮​-​🇾​​🇺​​🇸​ ​🇩​​🇦​​🇰​​🇲​​🇪​​🇸​ - ​🇩​​🇦​​🇰​-​🇲​​🇪​​🇸​ ​🇶​​🇭​​🇪​​🇹​​🇴​​🇭​​🇷​ - ​🇰​​🇪​-​🇹​​🇴​​🇷​

Yandere Victory God, who isn’t everything you’d expect a victory god to be. He’s not energetic, cheerful, or even that much of a good sport. What he is is cocky, arrogant, pragmatic, and stubborn as hell. 

Yandere Victory God, who has challenged every single major god in the pantheon to duels, games of strategy, or even something as dumb as a popularity contest. He’d always get too into it, sometimes transforming a simple game into a years-long feud that’d only end when he managed to win. None of the gods have forgotten the Faisian Festival of 674, not when it nearly caused the entirety of the island of Faia to sink into the ground. 

Yandere Victory God, who doesn’t care for any of the other gods. Not when they couldn’t even beat him, not like you could. You, the God of Mercy, who the world has forgotten ever since your temple was desecrated during the War of Storms.

Yandere Victory God, who is the only god who still remembers you, even if it’s been half a century since he’s last seen you. He hates to admit it, but he misses you and your gentle gaze, your compassionate personality, and your endless patience. 

Yandere Victory God, who tires of the endless bloodshed that he caused with his own two hands. He wonders if you’d still love him if you learned of the things he’s done in these past violent years. All the mortal blood that he’s spilled would surely make you hate him, you’ve always loved these foolish little creatures after all, but maybe you could find it in your heart to forgive him. 

Yandere Victory God who never stops searching for you, despite his mother, the Goddess of War’s orders to stop this ‘fruitless endeavor’ and to focus on his duty in the battlefield. He cannot give up, he’s listened to your stories before. Of friends and fellow Gods who’ve faded away from existence because they were forgotten. He remembers your tears, and how he wanted to kiss them away from your skin. He doesn’t want you to be just another forgotten God.

Yandere Victory God, who catches wind of words whispered between old mortals, that the God of Mercy is in the Ivory Isles. Being held captive by a wretched creature that wants the wars to wipe out mortals forever. 

Faius was analyzing the map on his table, he had cleaned it of all the wooden pieces his mother used to mark their enemies. The scolding he’ll receive later will be worth it, as long as he can spot where the Ivory Isles were. Unfortunately for him, the Ivory Isles were considered a cursed location that many cartographers avoided placing on their maps to avoid bad fortune. 

As he was tracing his finger through the Gaulree Archipelago, the sound of heavy boots stomping through the dirt, followed by what Faius recognizes as feet being dragged across the coarse ground, snapped him out of his focus and he raises his head just in time for one of his lieutenants to enter the tent with a scrawny old man in tow. 

The lieutenant saluted, “Hail, Lord Faius.” He placed his hand on the old man and forced him to kneel, then grabbed him by the hair and pushed his head downwards to the ground like he was bowing. 

Faius waves his hand, “At ease,” His amber eyes drifted to focus on the old man, who had his eyes down to the ground, “I take it this is the priest of [Name] I sent you to search for?” 

The old man must have been only a young lad during the fall of your temple, and your subsequent disappearance. All the other priests and priestesses were either dead, or had gone senile with old age. This man was his only hope for finding you. If he had no valuable information, Faius would probably gut him then have his corpse tied to a pike as a warning to his men to not be so useless. Well, that's what he would've done if he wasn’t your old priest. 

The lieutenant nodded, “Yes, Lord Faius,” He glanced at the old man from the corner of his eye, “We found him at a temple of Dakmes.” 

Faius sneered. Dakmes was one of your few offspring, they were the deity of Tranquility, which was the closest thing to mercy the mortals had these days. He was so close to declaring war on them when he heard that they never bothered to look for you, you were their father for gods’ sake! 

“You are dismissed,” Faius waved off the lieutenant, who saluted, before swiftly leaving the tent. He walked over to the old man, who was still kneeling on the floor. With his sharp gaze, he was able to see that the old man was shaking slightly. 

Faius kneeled down, even in this position he was taller than the mortal, and then forced him to look him in the eyes. Dark brown met amber, and the old man flinched, “L-lord Faius,” The man’s voice was raspy, like he hadn’t drank water in ages, “What do you want from me?” 

Faius hummed, and then stood back up so he could tower over the old man and really enforce who was in power here, his hands stayed clasped behind his back, “You were a priest of [Name] in your youth, weren’t you?” 

The old man nodded, “I… I was,” The look in his eyes told Faius that the man had an inkling of why he was there. 

“Answer me this,” Faius pulled out the dagger he had used to pin down the map, and played with the blade. He smirked when the old man gulped, “Were you there the day he disappeared?” 

At those words, it was like a switch flipped inside the old man as a realization dawned on him. His eyes widened, and his breathing quickened, he started shaking his head frantically, “No… no! I promised them. I- I swore I’d never tell a soul!” He screamed. Faius’ eyes widened, who was ‘them’? Was it a deity? 

“Who are you speaking of?” Faius bent down in front of the old man, who immediately backed away from him but didn’t get very far considering he was basically crawling backwards, “Tell me, now.” He snarled out, gold energy crackling in the room, and his fierce aura scaring the man still. 

“I- I cannot!” The old man cried, tears were now flowing down his face at a rapid pace, “They would kill me if I spoke even a word of it!” 

Faius pressed the dagger against the old man’s throat, who winced when a bit of blood leaked from the freshly formed cut, “If you don’t tell me right now, I’ll be the one to take your worthless little life,” This was it, he was close. He could feel it. If he knew the deity who dared take you away from him, then he’d rescue you, and things would go back to normal again. You and him, together. Just like how it was meant to be. 

“It was Qhetohr!” The old man shrieked, “Qhetohr took Lord [Name]-” But before he could finish his words, the old man froze mid-sentence, and then black smoke started to pour from his mouth and then curled around his neck, and around his head. Faius immediately backed away, but that didn’t stop a bit of the smoke from wrapping itself around his wrist. 

The smoke solidified around, and then tightened. Faius winced at the sharp pain, it set his nerves on fire and nearly made him fall to his knees, but he was able to balance himself. Unfortunately for your ex-priest, he did not have the fortune of being a god, and the following sight was visceral. 

The black smoke that wrapped itself around the old man tightened to the point that Faius could hear the bones in his neck creaking, and the skull starting to crack from the applied pressure. The sounds only continued, growing louder and more frequent, till with one final wet pop, the smoke slowly receded from the old man. Leaving only a bloody and mutilated mess of what used to be the old man’s head. 

Most mortals, even some of the gods, would gag at the sight but Faius only frowned. He could care less about the mess, instead he focused on the old man’s dying words.

Qhetohr was one of the oldest deities in the pantheon, and one of the most dangerous ones too. The deity of destruction and the void. They were the most reclusive of the old gods, yet at the same time the most feared, for good reason too. The gory image in front of him was no doubt their work. Faius glared at the black smoke that still clung tightly to his wrist, it felt like it was biting into him and injecting venom into his system like a snake. 

He could worry about it later, a little pain was something he could handle if it meant he’ll find you. 

Faius called some of his men to clean up the body, and then went back to his map. He wiped away the old man’s blood from his blade. He admired the engraved dove on its hilt, your patron animal. Faius stabbed the dagger back into the parchment, and resumed his search for the Ivory Isles. 

He had a deity to blame, to fight, to kill and now all he needed to do was find you. 

“I’ll be with you again soon, [Name],” Faius murmurs under his breath, “Just be patient…” 

Yandere Victory God, whose men have noticed that he’s been getting more brutal with his attacks. He always loved a good battle, fighting was something that just came naturally to him as a son of War and Glory, and it was one of the few things that was able to take his mind off of you. But there was something different now. It was like he had gotten hungrier for blood, and violence.

Yandere Victory God who’s started raiding different villages and towns, all in search for a map or a cartographer willing to overlook the curse and tell him where the Ivory Isles were. Were his methods crueler than necessary? Sure, you could say that, but it was for a good cause. If he brought back the god of mercy, then things would become peaceful once more, and he’d be able to have his beloved back in his arms. 

Yandere Victory God who has become darker than before. He was never the kindest, nor was he the most compassionate, but he wasn’t like… this. He was harder on his men, pushed them to be more ruthless, and many of them lost whatever humanity they still had left in them that the seemingly ceaseless wars hadn’t taken. 

Yandere Victory God who dedicates every head he severs, every village he burns to the ground, and every death that happens at his hands, to you. This was all in his efforts to look for you after all, he wasn’t some bloodthirsty brute who took pleasure in this. No, no. He was your knight in shining armor, like the ones in all of those stories mortals loved to write. 

Yandere Victory God who can tell that the black smoke was doing something to him. Making him more sadistic and cruel, but was it really so bad? He could never do this before, not when he was worried about what you’d think of him for killing all these mortals. He still cared about what you thought about him, yes, but he’s sure you’ll be able to understand why he did this. You were always so understanding, that’s just one of the many things he loved about you. 

Yandere Victory God who finally found a cartographer willing to sell her soul for a hefty bag of gold coins, and gives him a map that can take him to the Ivory Isles. 

Yandere Victory God who wastes no time in taking his mother’s ship and boarding it with some of his men, the crew accommodates him without question and they set sail for the Ivory Isles. His face is like stone, cold and unmoving, but inside he’s like an excited child about to get his favorite treat after waiting patiently to be rewarded. 

Yandere Victory God who finally smiles for the first time in a long time when he sees the large pale structures in the distance, the bones that make up the outer layer of the Ivory Isles. You’re just within reach, and soon things will be perfect once more. He’ll rip Qhetohr apart, limb from limb, and offer their remains up to you, his perfect god. 

Faius steps onto the cursed land's soil, and immediately shivers. There is an evil energy on this land, no wonder cartographer’s refuse to place it on their maps. He hopes that it hasn’t tainted you, but even if it has he’ll be able to fix it. 

He feels the black smoke curl tighter around his wrist, and hum with a renewed energy. He winces as he feels it dig deeper into his skin. It was like an ant biting into his flesh with the force of a shark. 

But he steadies himself, he must remain strong if he wants to rescue you after all. 

Faius stares off into the distance, where he sees a large, crumbling tower that looks nearly identical to the bones surrounding the island. That must be the prison holding you. 

His hand grips tighter on the sword around his waist, “Soon, [Name]... Soon you’ll be back in my arms again,” Faius whispers to himself, “Right where you belong.”

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ.

[thegettingbyp2]

hiii!! could we pls have an anthony bridgerton fic? please please him getting into a duel for you and starting as comforting him (emotionally or if he's injured) and ending in romantic smut? ty!

Defending Your Honour

The moment you heard the door slam shut, you knew that something was wrong. You walked into the entrance of the Bridgerton household to see Anthony already storming up the stairs; what alarmed you the most was the bright patch of red that was blooming on the white sleeve of his shirt. You and Anthony had been best friends since you were little, however, as the both of you grew up, you’d developed deeper feelings for each other but were both too scared to admit it, too scared that the other person wouldn’t feel the same way.

‘What happened?’ you exclaimed, meeting him halfway on the stairs, your hands coming out to stop him, being careful to avoid his shirt sleeve. Anthony’s almost instinctively came to rest on your waist, almost as if he was trying to make sure you were there. ‘Anthony, talk to me, what happened?’ you pressed, reaching up until his eyes met yours.

‘Never accept anything from Lord Darlington, do you hear me?’ he said frantically, his fingers tightening on your waist. ‘I don’t care what it is, you don’t accept, promise me, (Y/N).’

‘Okay, okay, I promise,’ you said, trying to calm him down, ‘come upstairs and you can tell me what happened while I patch you up.’ You gave him no room to protest, linking your hand in his and pulling him up the stairs until you walked into his study, knowing that was the one room the two of you wouldn’t be interrupted. You gently closed the door and walked across the room to where Anthony had sat on the sofa against the bookshelves. Lowering yourself to sit next to him, armed with all the supplies you would possibly need, you gently took hold of his injured arm and pulled it carefully towards you. With his free hand, Anthony reached up to loosen his shirt, allowing you to pull the shoulder down, revealing a nasty gash on his arm. ‘Anthony, what happened?’ you asked as a breath rushed out of you at the sight of the injury.

‘I overheard Lord Darlington telling everyone that you had been difficult when he asked for your hand in marriage. He said that he was going to have a word with your father and make it clear to him that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer and that you weren’t going to have a choice; he was going to make you marry him. I overheard and I couldn’t let him get away with talking about you like that so I stepped in and challenged him to a duel.’

‘You didn’t have to do that!’ You protested, still being careful as you patched him up.

‘Didn’t have to? (Y/N), he was telling everyone that you were his! I couldn’t bear the thought because you’re mine,’ Anthony said, his voice rising slightly. As soon as you both realised what he had just said, you both froze, not knowing what to do next.

‘Done,’ you said quietly, gesturing to his arm and looking down at your hands that you were now wringing in your lap. Anthony quietly muttered his thanks and you stood up to leave. A hand wrapped gently around your wrist stopped you from walking away and you looked down at Anthony to see him looking up at you, emotions warring in his eyes.

‘(Y/N), I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. Just the thought of you marrying him, it drove me insane and,’ you cut him off by stepping closer to him, your hands gently cupping his cheeks as his hands moved to clutch at your waist, holding you in place.

‘You should know me better than that. I’d never marry someone else. Not when the only person I want to marry is you,’ you spoke softly as your lips hovered over his. Without another word, Anthony yanked you down into his lap as he pressed his lips to yours. You gasped against his lips, allowing Anthony to deepen the kiss as he held you as close as possible, the skirts of your dress, settling over the two of you. ‘Anthony,’ you whimpered, your hands sliding up the back of his head as your hips began to rock against him. ‘Need you.’

‘You have me. Forever, you have me, (Y/N),’ he mumbled as his lips began to press kisses to your neck and shoulder. Your hands slipped underneath your skirt as you tried to pull Anthony’s trousers down his hips, only to be stopped by his hands wrapping around your wrists, putting a halt to your movements. ‘(Y/N), we can’t,’ he breathed out, his breath heavy against your shoulder.

‘Why? Anthony, I need you,’ you insisted as you tried to move your hands out of his grip, letting out a huff of frustration when you failed.

‘We can’t. (Y/N), I can’t do this to you. If anyone were to find out that I’d had you before your husband, you know what would happen and I won’t put you through that.’

Instead of replying, you crashed your lips against his again, smirking when you heard the groan form in his throat, his hands loosening their grip on you. As soon as you could, you pulled your hands up to rest on the side of his neck as you looked at him. ‘Anthony, the only person I want to be with is you. Please.’

Anthony looked at you, his eyes full of adoration as he just looked at you for a few seconds. ‘And you’re sure? Because once we do this, once I have you, I won’t be able to let you go.’

‘You’ve had me for years, you just haven’t realised,’ you said and that was the only confirmation he needed as his hands made quick work of pushing his trousers down his legs and hooking your panties to the side.

‘Next time, I promise I’ll be gentle and I’ll take my time with you but I can’t wait.’

‘We have all the time in the world,’ you reassured him. A gasp left your throat and tears pricked in your eyes as you felt the sharp pain of him entering you. Anthony’s hands were gentle as he cradled you against his body, trying to be as still as possible as he let you adjust to the foreign feeling.

‘I’m sorry, it won’t hurt for long,’ he soothed, kissing away your tears until your hips started rocking again and he took that as his sign to move. You weren’t expecting the rush of pleasure to course through you as he started to guide your body against his and you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder to steady yourself and muffle the cries that he was pulling from you.

In that moment, everything just felt right. And you knew that Anthony Bridgerton was the only person that you wanted.

[xtra7s]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 ★ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

pairing: Renee Rapp x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N comes to Renee's house to write more lyrics, having more fun than she thought she would.

content: literally just fluff.

word count: 2000+

masterlist | previous part

Sunlight, unwelcome and insistent, lanced through the blinds, dragging Renee from the depths of a dream filled with unfinished melodies and Y/N's sharp, enigmatic smile. Groaning, she swatted at the offending light before surrendering to wakefulness. The events of yesterday, the tense collaboration with Y/N, flickered back to life. Their creative sparks flew, but so did their barbs, leaving an uneasy truce instead of the harmonious flow Renee had hoped for.

Yet, a melody hummed beneath the surface of her mind, insistent and tantalizing. It was unfinished, a single verse born from their clash, and it held a raw honesty that resonated with Renee. She couldn't shake the feeling that Y/N, despite her aloofness, held the key to unlocking its full potential.

Sitting up, Renee grabbed her phone and sent Y/N a message. It was a gamble, a tentative olive branch extended across the chasm of their differing personalities.

Renee: Coffee and unfinished business at my place? Noon sharp? ☕️

Blinking away the remnants of sleep, she sat up, the unfinished song from yesterday humming beneath her skin. Excitement warred with apprehension; Y/N, notorious for her cool indifference, was coming over to write again.

Pushing back the covers, Renee stretched, the morning chill sending goosebumps erupting across her skin. A quick glance at the clock sent a jolt of urgency through her. Time to ditch the dreamland and embrace reality.

The bathroom buzzed with the energy of her determination. Toothpaste frothed into a minty cloud, the rhythmic whirring of her electric toothbrush chasing away the last cobwebs of sleep. As she splashed cool water on her face, a nervous tremor ran through her hands. What should she wear?

Clothes flew like colorful birds from her closet, landing in a haphazard pile on the bed. Each outfit felt wrong, too casual, too loud, and not good enough for the enigmatic Y/N. Finally, her eyes landed on a simple black and white striped sweater, paired with comfortable sweatpants.

Her phone remained silent for an agonizing hour. Just as doubt began to creep in, Renee's phone pinged.

Y/N: Fine. But the coffee better be good. ☕️

A small smile curved Renee's lips. Challenge accepted.

Makeup was kept minimal, a touch of concealer to chase away dark circles, a swipe of mascara to open her eyes. Her hair, usually cascading down her shoulders, was instead pulled into a messy bun. She looked in the mirror, not the polished star, but the artist ready to create, vulnerability mingling with defiance.

By noon, her apartment buzzed with nervous energy. She had brewed her secret coffee blend, the one guaranteed to jolt even the sleepiest soul, and laid out their notebooks and instruments like offerings on an altar of creativity.

The doorbell rang, and Renee braced herself. Y/N stood on the doorstep, looking as effortlessly cool as ever in ripped jeans and a leather jacket, a scowl permanently etched on her face. Yet, there was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes as they swept over the prepared workspace.

"Nice digs," Y/N muttered, stepping inside. Renee detected a slight softening in her voice like the sun trying to peek through storm clouds.

"Thanks," Renee replied, trying to ignore the nervous flutter in her stomach. "Coffee?"

Y/N nodded, accepting the mug with a surprised grunt at the first sip. "Damn, you weren't kidding about the good coffee."

A small laugh escaped Renee, and for the first time, the air felt less charged, a sliver of tension dissipating. They settled onto the couch, guitars in hand, facing the unfinished melody like adversaries about to engage in a duel.

But instead of clashing, their instruments intertwined, weaving a tapestry of sound that surprised them both. Renee took the lead, her voice raw and emotional, pouring the frustration and vulnerability of their collaboration into the lyrics. Y/N responded with sharp counterpoints, her melody echoing the defiance in Renee's words.

Taking a deep breath, Renee picked up her guitar, the wood familiar and comforting in her hands. Today wasn't about impressing; it was about the music, the shared journey into unknown territory. she met her reflection with a determined smile, let the melody begin, imperfections and all.

 Renee's fingers danced across the guitar strings, the melody from yesterday echoing in the room. The air crackled with creative energy as she and Y/N exchanged ideas, tossing lyrical darts at the metaphorical board of their song.

"This conversation's classic," Renee sang, her voice laced with a mix of amusement and frustration. "I can predict this shit, line by line."

Y/N nodded, her brow furrowed in concentration, nodding as a smile grew on her face.

Renee strummed a chord, a wry smile playing on her lips. "I like a straight jacket," she sang, "comfortable but confining. Keeps us safe, but suffocates the soul."

Y/N's eyes lit up. "Exactly! That shit for real!"

Renee's fingers flew across the strings, weaving a new melody around the existing chords. "But it feels like it's a little tight," she sang, her voice gaining an edge of finding. "Oh yeah, you're boyfriend's cute"

Y/N raises an eyebrow, hopping in as Renee makes faces of concentration.

"Oh, shit, yeah, he can come too"

"You'll be his in the morning anyway" Renee responds as she smiles at Y/N, placing down her guitar with a sigh.

As they continued their collaboration, the song evolved, fueled by their shared desire to break free from the confines of expectations and societal norms. The lyrics became a tapestry of raw emotions, vulnerability woven with defiance, a declaration of their artistic freedom.

The room was filled with the soft strains of a melancholic song as Renee and Y/N lounged on the couch, sharing a quiet moment. The lyrics, rich with emotion, hung in the air, prompting a thoughtful silence between them.

Renee turned to Y/N, her eyes reflecting a depth of understanding. "Do you understand the lyrics?" she asked, her voice carrying a sense of reflection as she tilted her head.

Y/N, trying to suppress the subtle flutter in their chest, nodded. "Yeah, it's quite powerful. Each word seems to tell a story, you know?"

Renee's gaze lingered on Y/N, a quiet acknowledgment passing between them. "It's funny how music can capture feelings that are sometimes hard to put into words. Like, it's easier to express things through song lyrics than in a regular conversation."

Y/N took a moment before responding, "True. Music can be a way to say what we might be afraid to say out loud."

Renee, her eyes searching Y/N's face, detected a hint of something unspoken. "Yeah exactly. The constraints of that shit are crazy."

Caught off guard, Y/N hesitated for a moment, then decided to open up a bit. "Well, you know, sometimes lyrics resonate with you more when they mirror your own experiences. It's like the songwriter reached into your soul and put your feelings into words."

Renee nodded knowingly. "I get that. It's like finding solace in someone else's pain or joy because you can relate."

As the conversation continued, Renee subtly steered it towards a more personal topic. "Speaking of relationships, do you ever feel like societal expectations put constraints on who you can be with?"

Y/N, suddenly aware of the weight of the conversation, chose their words carefully. "Yeah, definitely. It's like there are these invisible rules that dictate who we're supposed to love, and it can be suffocating."

Renee sighed, her eyes reflecting a mixture of frustration and understanding. "I feel that too. Being a lesbian, it's like society has this script they want us to follow. But love shouldn't have rules, you know?"

Y/N's heart echoed Renee's sentiment, resonating with the struggle of hiding one's true self. "I get that, I think. Sometimes it's harder for some people to break free from those expectations."

Renee, sensing a shared understanding, placed a comforting hand on Y/N's shoulder. "There are people who understand and accept you for who you are, I think. They're the shit."

Y/N met Renee's gaze, silently grateful for her empathy. At that moment, the lyrics of the song took on a new meaning, weaving a connection between them that transcended the spoken words.

Both Renee and Y/N sat back, chests heaving with creative exertion and smiles mirroring each other's.

A comfortable silence settled between them, the kind that comes after shared creation and vulnerability. An idea sparked in Renee's mind. "You know, writing is thirsty work," she suggested, glancing at the clock. "How about we refuel and keep the good vibes going?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a hint of a mischievous grin playing on her lips. "Pizza? It's practically mandatory for songwriters."

Renee laughed. "Nah, something less predictable. What about Chinese?"

Y/N considered it for a moment, then shrugged. "Why not? As long as there's General Tso's."

A quick scan of delivery apps later, they were sprawled on the couch, plates overflowing with spicy goodness. "Game of Thrones?" Renee suggested, grabbing the remote.

"Only if you promise not to spoil anything," Y/N warned, eyes already glued to the screen.

Laughter filled the room as they navigated the treacherous world of Westeros, their easy banter punctuated by groans at character deaths and cheers for unlikely heroes. The initial tension between them had completely dissolved, replaced by a newfound understanding and respect.

The soft glow of the TV bathed the room in a cozy ambiance as Renee and Y/N settled onto the couch to catch up on their favorite show. Y/N couldn't help but sense an unusual tension in the air. Renee, typically confident and self-assured, seemed oddly nervous.

Y/N glanced sideways at Renee, an impish smile playing on their lips. "Is there something you're not telling me, Renee?" they teased, raising an eyebrow.

Renee's eyes widened slightly, and she attempted to play it off. "What? No, nothing. Just enjoying the show," she replied, feigning innocence.

Y/N scooted a bit closer, the teasing glint in their eyes undeterred. "Hmm, spill the beans, Renee."

Renee let out a nervous laugh, realizing she couldn't escape Y/N's playful interrogation. "Okay, fine. Maybe I'm a little nervous," she admitted, looking down, keeping eye contact with Y/N and smiling with her teeth.

Y/N's grin widened. "Nervous? Around me? What are you really, hiding Renee?"

Rolling her eyes, Renee playfully nudged Y/N. "It's not like that! I just... I didn't want to mess things up or say something weird."

Y/N chuckled, enjoying Renee's flustered state. "Mess things up? With me? Come on, Renee, I'm obligated to be here."

Renee couldn't help but laugh at Y/N's playful banter. "I guess you have a point."

Y/N shrugged dramatically. "It's a gift, really. But seriously, no need to be nervous. We're just bitches watching a show."

Renee laughed, grateful for Y/N's lighthearted approach. "You're right. Thanks for putting up with my nerves."

Y/N grinned, nudging Renee back. "Yeah, yeah, Renee. Now, let's focus on the show before I start making fun of you some more."

As they settled into the episode, the playful banter lingered, turning an ordinary TV night into a delightful exchange of teasing and laughter between two friends.

Between bites of kung pao chicken and tense dragon battles, they talked. Not just about music, but about their fears, their dreams, and the things that kept them up at night. They discovered shared passions for obscure documentaries and a mutual hatred of airport security lines.

As the credits rolled after watching too many episodes, a comfortable silence descended. It wasn't the awkward quiet of strangers, but the companionable stillness of two people who had just discovered a connection they hadn't expected.

"Thanks for today," Renee said, a genuine smile on her face. "It wasn't what I expected, but it was way better."

Y/N smirked. "Neither was it for me. But who knows, maybe this collaboration's the start of something."

With a shared understanding that stretched beyond the song they were writing, they cleaned up the remnants of their feast, the melody of their unexpected alliance humming in the air. The unfinished song waited, a blank canvas ready to be filled with the story of two artists who had found common ground in the most unexpected place: over takeout and dragons.

[flowerandblood]

The Temple of the God

[ Ares • Ettore x Aphrodite • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, fingering, smut, angst, violence, swearing, marital infidelity ]

[ description: Many men look at her with lust, however, no one's gaze is as terrifying as that of her brother, the god of war, cruel and cold, reminding her more of a barbarian than one of the kings of Olympus. He is known to care little about pleasing women in his brutal rapprochements with them, however, he surprises her with his attitude when he visits her one night. ]

This oneshot is my Valentine's Day gift to all of you. I love you, thank you for being here! I plan to come back to this couple in the future, let me know what you think! 💕

Part 2 − The Temple of War

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

She could see it in the way he looked at her. She saw it in the light movement of his head, his raised chin, his slightly parted lips, his gait lazy, confident, careless, like that of a bear or a lion. He circled around her, angry and frustrated, unable to get what he wanted.

There was something animalistic in his nature, in his posture, in his aura, his gaze seemed to her empty, yet at the same time endlessly deep and dark; he could not concentrate on calm deliberation, there was a perpetual, irrepressible storm in his mind.

He would exert himself on the battlefields, at the head of armies of his heroes, with whom he would train and duel for days, their muscular, broad bodies often completely naked, glistening with sweat and oil.

She watched them sometimes from the windows of her chambers on Olympus. Their great wars and pointless exercises aimed at making them tear their opponents to shreds, with one sword cut depriving them of their members, wallowing in their blood.

Her brother did not abhor carcasses, decay, murder, cruelty, she thought he fed on it, his enemies knew no mercy from him, their pleas clashing with the cold stone that was his heart.

Her nature was the complete opposite of his and they both knew that they had nothing to offer each other. However, whenever he caught sight of her silhouette, walking in the company of her servants, river and mountain nymphs, entertaining her with conversation, he did not take his piercing, hot gaze off her, his lips pressed into a thin line; he turned the hilt of his sword as if in a trance then, drifting away with his thoughts.

He did not desire her, he wanted to devour her.

She knew that he had cohabited with many women, including her maidservants, who later lamented to her that he was brutal and cruel, that he did not know or understand what female fulfilment and joy were, did not know the women's bodies and their secrets, because he was only interested in his own fulfilment.

One day she visited him while he was practising with his warriors; they were wrestling and throwing each other to the ground, the one who gave up had to pat the other on the shoulder.

They were completely naked.

Seeing her, several of them covered themselves, knowing full well who she was, ashamed that she might judge them or their bodies, mock them and expose them to the ridicule.

She, however, approached her brother, looking straight into his eyes beaming with utter black emptiness, his broad chest adorned with drops of sweat rising and falling in heavy breathing.

He stood before her without any sign of embarrassment, his eyes roaming all over her body, judging apparently how her flesh presented itself in her soft velvet-like translucent white robe, pearls braided into the curls of her hair. They stared at each other for a moment in silence, as if testing each other, her face, like his, expressing nothing.

"Stay away from my servants, brother. They have complained to me that you are hurting them." She said at last, his jaw clenched at her words, his nostrils quivering in impatience.

He didn't answer.

He never answered.

She turned away, heading back towards the cloisters, feeling the thirsty gazes of the men turning behind her, disappearing at last into the halls of the gigantic ancient palace.

Men craved her for many reasons, one of which was the urge to prove to themselves that they could be desired by the goddess of love herself.

It was a great oversimplification, however, because of her experience this is what she came to be called, people, men and women, began to offer prayers to her begging her blessing in their marriages, asking for her intervention in matters others would have been afraid to whisper about.

She blessed ardent loves, burning to the core.

Yet she herself, though she was ashamed to admit it, had not experienced one herself.

Every time she thought it was the one, the man she believed to be her beloved died, or betrayed her by following another goddess, bored. Her heart was broken so many times that she allowed herself to be approached by men only to give her physical pleasure.

Her husband, Hephaestus, was a good and warm-hearted man. He spent his days in his great forge located in the heart of the volcano, in which the fire flowed constantly. She visited him there rarely, the dust and noise there was unbearable for her.

Although they both had respect for each other and a kind of cordiality, he preferred to devote himself to his work. He did not understand her needs, just as she did not understand his, for which she did not blame him.

Their marriage, unlike that of Zeus and Hera, was more peaceful, both of them resigned to their roles and didn't get in each other's way.

She knew, however, that before her father, ruler of the thunderbolts and all of Olympus, had decided to marry her to Hephaestus, it had been the God of War himself who had furiously demanded her hand, believing that she was his to claim.

Their father did not share his decision, apparently fearing his violent nature and what kind of husband he would turn out to be.

Her brother then disappeared for years, sinking into great wars and battles, the earth trembled from his rage, from the peaks of their heavenly mountain she heard the cries and moans of his enemies.

That day, after what she had told him, he came to her at night.

Completely naked, without a trace of embarrassment on his face, he walked slowly across the cold stone floor towards her bed, draped with a canopy and translucent curtains, which he pushed aside with an impatient flick of his hand, passing between them.

He stopped when he caught sight of her bare figure, looking at him with furrowed brows she raised on one elbow, feeling no shame whatsoever, yet unable to stop the squeeze between her thighs and the heat in her lower abdomen noticing that at the sight of her body his manhood twitched and swelled.

"Get out." She said coolly, but he only hummed as if he was considering something. She turned on her back, ready to scream if necessary, knowing her servants would come to her aid and her brothers would drag him away from her.

She was curious, however, to see what he would do.

She looked vigilantly at his silhouette walking slowly towards her, with his big cold black eyes and tense body he reminded her of a wild animal preparing to attack.

She thought he was about to throw himself at her and try to take her against her will.

He, however, sat down beside her; his large, wide hand raised and, in an uncertain, calm movement, ran down her thigh, his fingers digging into her skin as if he wanted to see what it felt like.

"− like velvet −" He murmured low, breathing through his mouth as if he was trying to calm himself; she seemed to notice on his face something of childish curiosity, as if she and her body was something unremarkable and completely incomprehensible to him.

His hand went higher, to her breast and began to rub and play with it, as if he liked the shape of it and how pleasant it was to the touch. She sighed quietly, realising with disbelief that what he was doing and how he was behaving was making her wet, her fleshy insides pulsing with tension.

Finally his fingers ran over her neck and face, his thumb stopped and parted her plump, glistening lips; he leaned over her as if he wanted to get a proper look at her, his warm breath enveloped her skin, the smell of his sweat seemed primal, masculine to her, her body involuntarily quivered at the thought.

He kissed her, kissed her as if he wanted to devour her, his caress full of chaos and impatience, of his hot, sticky lips, of his wet tongue, of his saliva and teeth. She gasped into his mouth, surprised to feel what he was doing between her thighs, her heart pounding like mad.

He groaned low into her mouth in surprise and tightened his fingers on her cheeks, panting hard as her hand gripped firmly his hard, swollen manhood.

She gasped for air when she felt how generously he had been bestowed by the heavens; she gave him a few slow, encouraging squeezes sliding her hand from the fat, pink head of his cock to it's very base, his hips involuntarily began to respond to her movements.

"− harder −" He commanded, closing his eyes, his hand involuntarily squeezed her breasts, too hard and without sensitivity. She hissed quietly, clamping her hand tighter on his length, wanting to cause him pain; he growled feeling it, digging his fingers into the skin of her cheek, looking at her with rage.

"− not like that − more gently −" She explained, clamping her hand over his, showing him with the strokes of her fingers how he should caress her, directing his thumb to her nipple.

"− rub this place − ah, yes, just like that −" She mumbled, tilting her head back, feeling his impatient breath on her, watching her and her reactions with interest, surprised apparently at how she was able to change in a matter of moments.

She felt his length tremble in her grasp when he heard her first, quiet moans.

"− that's enough −" He said impatiently, laying down on top of her, his large hands, rough from holding the sword, gripped her thighs, wanting to spread them apart and finally possess her, her fingers tightening on his sweaty, muscular shoulders.

"− no − not yet − touch me there −" She mumbled.

He looked at her with a gaze from which her whole body froze, it seemed to her that his irises were completely black, menacing, burning with a desire that destroyed and devoured.

For a moment he didn't move, breathing heavily as if he was considering her words; she licked her lips realising that he had never done this before.

He had never touched a woman down there with his fingers or his lips, never caressed her before he owned her.

She swallowed loudly, sliding her hand down to his, in a gentle motion encouraging him to sink his fingers into her hot, leaking womanhood.

She heard him draw in a loud breath at the sensation, foreign and unfamiliar, tense, he rested the weight of his body on his elbow, leaning to the side, watching from the corner of his eye what he was doing to her.

"− here, brother − touching me here will give me pleasure −" She whispered, guiding his fingertips to the bud hidden between her folds, showing him how to tease her clit with circular, slow movements.

She parted her lips, feeling the pleasant tingling in her lower abdomen, her hips involuntarily began to respond to his strokes.

"− only here? −" He asked lowly, furrowing his eyebrows, his stony face expressing concern at her words knowing that the place she was showing him was outside and not deep inside her. She sighed quietly, guiding his middle finger to her slit; he looked at her face, gasping out loud, feeling the way her fleshy walls resisted him, hot and sticky.

"− not only − can you feel it? − right here −" She whispered, directing him to the spot inside her just above her opening, between her muscles. He shuddered all over, licking his lips, dried apparently from emotion, his erection hard and swollen, twitching involuntarily, betraying how aroused he was.

"− yes −" He exclaimed, digging his middle finger into the spot she showed him, his thumb teasing her pearl, clearly wanting to see what would happen when he started touching both places at once. She moaned loudly, tilting her head back, delighted at how unexpectedly pleasurable the sensation was.

"− gods − put it inside me −" She mewled, feeling that she no longer cared about retaining any remnants of her dignity, her free hand sank into his hair, pulling him close. He grunted loudly into her mouth like an animal throwing himself at her body, her fingers dug into the bare skin of his back, a moan of exertion escaped her throat when immediately the thick tip of his cock began to push against her tight walls.

"− wider −" He exhaled with a grin that was disturbing to say the least as with an impatient, confident thrust he forced her to let him in deeper. She breathed loudly, unable to believe how hard he was stretching her and threw her head back, a drop of sweat running down her long neck.

"− brother −" She whispered, something in the way she said the word made him lose his patience, his length began to slam into her in a fast, brutal rhythm, each time rubbing the spot inside her from where she could see the stars; it seemed to her that everything around her was spinning, the fingers of his hand cupped her cheeks, forcing her to look at him.

"− no, fucking look at me − look at me and listen to what my cock is doing to this weeping cunt − pathetic −" He hissed out through clenched teeth, as if he was both furious and proud at the same time. She whimpered helplessly, a loud smack echoed around them each time his thighs hit the bare skin of her buttocks, there was something lewd and definitive about the sound, proof of how wrong she was.

"− mghm −" She babbled, feeling like he was going to pierce her, the movements of his hips quick and aggressive, full of desperation and desire, their breaths embarrassingly loud and raptured. They stared at each other with their mouths wide open, as if they couldn't believe in what was happening.

"− what does it feel like, brother? − what does it feel like to fuck your own sister? −" She gasped, heard his surprised sigh at her question, his cock quivered hard inside her, his fingers dug harder into the soft skin of her cheeks, causing her pain.

He was moving so fast inside her that he was hardly slipping out of her, her fleshy walls, all leaking from her moisture, were no longer resisting him.

It seemed to her that he wanted to reply something, but the pleasure took his speech away; he leaned over suddenly and pressed his forehead against hers, panting loudly, his hot breath enveloping her face.

She could smell the masculine scent of his sweat, from which her cunt began to throb around him, her fingers traveled down from his back to his buttocks, stroking them with movements that could be called tender.

"− it feels good −" He whispered, looking at her with a gaze that sent shivers through her, at the same time animalistic, empty and full of something she couldn't name, desire as dark and disturbing as the night around them. The sure, loud, deep thrusts of his hips made her breath get stuck in her throat, she thought with horror, feeling a pleasant tickle in her lower abdomen, that she was about to come.

"− it feels right −" He muttered and ran his tongue over her lips, something in the way he said those words, in this shameless, lewd gesture, in the way the tip of his fat cock rubbed her again and again at the spot of her greatest pleasure made her melt in front of him.

She involuntarily tilted her head back and closed her eyes, a soft, helpless moan of delight broke from her throat as a wave of wonderful heat and relief shook her body, her walls began to squeeze him, sucking him inside.

"− fuck − fuck-fuck-fuck −" He merely muttered before sighing loudly.

She felt his hot seed spill inside her, filling her, and although she rarely allowed anyone such an honour, she was unable to deny him.

She stroked his naked buttocks with calm movements full of affection, in some subconscious, natural reflex, he continued to thrust into her for a moment longer, looking down at her with his mouth open wide in pleasure.

They stared at each other, breathing loudly, and she raised her hand, letting her fingers run over his temple, his cheek and his clearly defined long jaw. She saw him close his eyes for a moment, as if he wanted to remember this moment and this feeling.

"− there is no place for me to rest − no haven where I can take refuge − here is my only true temple −" He gasped in half whisper, as if he were revealing to her some shameful secret that was tormenting him. She swallowed quietly, feeling his body cling to hers, her breasts pressed against his bare, broad chest, his face snuggled into her hot cheek, his soft manhood still throbbed deep inside her.

"− my home −"

_____

General Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@triscy @re-per @diiickbrainn @queenofshinigamis @eponaartemisa @zaldritzosrose @writerloversjm @lauzy87 @targaryenrealnessdarling @briefcollectivepersona @ginarely-blog @lcecgg @an0ther-us3r @blackswxnn

[shinjisdone]

To Soften a Warrior’s Heart (Vinland Saga; Thorfinn; Part 10, Finale of S1)

In which you have joined Askeladd’s band…and grow closer to the Son of Thors. Though it is more difficult than anyone can could ever imagine…

[Headcanons of how it would be like to meet and crawl your way into Thorfinn’s heart (based on season 1; both platonic and romantic)]

Part 1 is here - meeting Thorfinn at the age of 14 and how he is at that age

Part 2 is here - meeting Thorfinn at the age of 16/17 + headcanons of growing closer (slightly following s1 story)

Part 3 is here - blooming friendship with Thorfinn (slightly following s1 story)

Part 4 is here - Thorfinn unwittingly opening his heart as he realizes he does not want you to die

Part 5.1 is here - sweet things Thorfinn would do for you (headcanons)

Part 5.2 is here - other sweet things Thorfinn would do for you (headcanons)

Part 6 is here - meeting Canute and becoming his guard - Thorfinn accepts your relationship and bond

Part 7 is here - Canute grieving over Ragnar and Thorkell catching up; Thorfinn leaves you alone for revenge

Part 8 is here - Thorfinn wins against Thorkell; Questioning your bond with Thorfinn

Part 9 is here - Meeting Leif and Thorfinn dueling Askeladd; Losing while Askeladd told him the truth of his constant losses

Tag list:

@luopenis , @jinsecho , @mitsureigen , @theknightssecrets

Mentions of murder, death, war, slave trade, harrasment against women and whatever awful things happened in the viking era. Only mentioned and used as examples. Mostly gender-neutral examples but female-leaning ones are there, too.]

[This part will specifically mention: Lost Thorfinn, you snapping, confrontation, crying and screaming, Thorfinn kinda losing it, depressive vibes, Thorfinn thinking about death, mentions of blood and snot, zombie Thorfinn, longing, abandonment]

It's Just Like A Burning Torch In A Storm, Like A Little Flower Blooming In A Home...

The weather has worsened as Askeladd predicted.

Even as it was past noon, the sky darkened in a warning as if it were the middle of the deadly night. Snowflakes that started out so lovely of how light they were, were now raining down like arrows and blurring the sight. You could barely see any light come from York and simply trotted after the footsteps your 'leaders' and 'liege' left behind.

You scoffed at the fear of the trails being hidden away by the upcoming storm at this pace, however. Dragging Thorfinn by his wrist would take forever until you'd find shelter.

You had told him to rest his broken arm in the sling but he let it swing with every little limp he managed after you. His good arm was just as lax and he barely let out any signs of pain of how utterly and crushingly tight you gripped his wrist as you dragged him after you. Hunched like a bell ringer, his pants and groans were as quiet as a mouse.

You bit your tongue. He barely paid any attention and just let you haul you around like a dog-

A thump. Thankfully you did not let your grip falter on him as he fell to his knees. Swallowing down a sigh, you turned around and tugged on his wrist. "C'mon. The snow is getting heavier."

Thorfinn hung his head.

"C'mon." You called out louder, tugging at him again. With a dreadfully slow pace, Thorfinn managed to lift one leg after another. After helping him up, you turned around to lead the way.

The same song all over again. The scenery did not seem to change, Askeladd and friends having vanished right under your nose. It felt like you were stranded on a place familiar yet far away. Freezing snowscapes weren't an ucommon sight and they surely were not with only Thorfinn as your company but this caving, this sharp chilliness that felt paralyzing as your heart seemed to give in the longer you dwelled here - as if this place was cursed - it was a first. It was all a first, daunting and frightening. Although, you doubted you could really pinpoint your feelings right now.

You let yourself sigh in frustration as Thorfinn fell once again. The crunching of the snow has become irritating and you snapped towards him. "Thorfinn. I know you can stand. You were running towards Askeladd just moments ago," You hoped it was 'just' moments ago, "Stand up already, don't have me haul you."

All you received was another groan. Another attempt but he kept on slipping. With a growl of your own you kneeled down to hold him under his arms. Heaving him with great effort, you almost slipped yourself as the blonde stayed limb, letting you lift him up with all your might. You felt like a mother with an grown man.

You scolded him again as he simply let himself lean on you once you were up on your feet - before pushing him away and giving him a good shake.

Still, he almsot tumbled down again.

"Thorfinn!" Yelling did not seem to effect him as well as his eyes, black and blue, narrow and swollen from the one-sided brawl, barely took in your figure. His brown eyes looked like they saw right through you, not even on eye level as he still did not walk straight, and it pissed you off.

Even breathing for air was painful, the sharp coldness of this barren, damned place wanting to cut into your lungs with each inhale as if taunting you, knowing that you rely on it now. Now, stuck in this forgotten land as the snow lies down on your shoulders. It's getting heavier and heavier, ringing in your ears as even they felt like falling off your head at any moment. They might as well. The biting wind, though gentle as it was, stealing any feeling you had in your bones.

Sniffing and swallowing your snot, you yanked at his arm again, swiftly turning around and trying to march after the fading footsteps as Thorfinn limped after.

The mere sound of crunching snapped the last strand of patience you so miraciously found within you and before the young man could completely slip again, he fell on his side instead as your fist collided with his face.

"You're a complete idiot!"

Thorfinn barely let out a sound. It made the fire within you rise.

"Askeladd was damn right! You're a moron! A godsforsaken fool! Idiot! Idiot, idiot, idiot!"

You stomped your foot, akin to a child, and Thorfinn wondered why you did not let him feel your ire instead, as he gazed up at you through lidded, swollen eyes. Though he did shakily gasp as you bent down and grabbed ahold of his shirt, holding him up to your level.

"The hell do you think you're doing here?! Huh?! What the hell are you doing here?! Answer me!" You threw him to the ground just as quickly. "You have people here that want you back to a home and you are crawling back to damn Askeladd out of all people! Vile, disgusting, bastard Askeladd!"

Your pants grew louder and louder, hands on your head, as they quickly snapped from brainless inhales to a growling, longing shriek - an animal squealing in pain.

"Do you have any idea - no, 'course you don't! You're a stupid mutt! You never think, never had any brains up there, did you?!" Piles of snow were thrown left and right, partly falling on Thorfinn, on his beaten body and face. He flinched at the contact. You kept on screeching. "You always end up like this. On the ground. Like a dog!" Again, you kicked snow his way, "When you could be somewhere else, somewhere far away that isn't here!"

You snapped your arm back to a direction you believed York was, distressed glare still on your friend, "What the hell was this Leif person talking about?! Iceland?! Helga and Ylva?! They're your family, aren't they?! You have family, Thorfinn, family that is alive and well and in Iceland and they want you back! They love you, Thorfinn!" Retreating your arm, you brought your hands back to your head, pulling on your hair, pulling on the last strand of sanity this man left you. Though you desperately were scowling, you wanted to scowl, your eyes were only wide. Wide and big, distress shining in them as tears welled up in the corners. A choked sob escaped you.

"Anyone would jump up in joy hearing that their family is still alive but you didn't give a damn about what that man had to say. He said he'd wait for you. Maybe he's still there."

The screeching softened the more you talked, misty-eyed as you gazed at anything but him. Lamenting to yourself at this predicament he found himself in. Thorfinn's own eyes widened as best as they could as he managed to sit up. A breathy gasp escaped him. He's never seen you like this.

"Do you have," Sobbing, you wiped your nose, "Any idea how lucky you are to have people in this world...that want you?"

The breathy gasp morphed into sharp inhales, greedily gulping in the painful air as Thorfinn kept staring and staring at you, wide-eyed and afraid. He barely could breath.

"You could be there...but you're not. So answer me when I ask you what the hell you are doing here."

Something...something he reckoned to be akin to ringing wormed its way in his ears alongside your sobs. He saw you hiding your eyes as tears fell down your face - but he wasn't sure, the heavy snow and his lidded eyes made it difficult to truly see you. Thorfinn was not certain if he stooped this low that he had begun seeing things.

Tilting his head down to the snow - his neck couldn't find any strength anymore - he startled at the face his father's dagger reflected. Swollen and broken...dark and bruised, blood and snot oozing out of his bent nose with one of his eye hardly visible and of course, barely able to see with it anyway. Maybe it wasn't the trick of the weather but just his swollen face.

He had seen this face time and time again.

It whined and fussed whenever he looked at it, leaving him no choice but to see its pain and its borderline stupidity. The blood coated on the blade as it cut the guards.

The broken arm that almost earned worse by Thorkell's duel.

The stomach that churned whenever he trotted away like a corpse out of sheer hunger. Looking for anything he could gnaw between his teeth.

The hand that held the torch to the woman's demise. The hair she groomed was soaked in blood later, he recalled.

All that gruesome work...all the murders and the guts on the floor, the stolen goods and impaled heads...all those errands.

It was all this ugly face that he sees.

He sucked in air only to let them out in a wail. He wailed and wailed, louder and louder, his voice cracking as his tongue was tied and not able to form any words. He stared at you as you kept on sobbing.

Thorfinn's scream pierced through the heavy snow and the deafening silence. The cold, the snow, the dark, thunderous sky was nothing compared to this might, to this pathetic pain. It was louder than anything else you'd ever heard, both from the people you've killed and their pleas for mercy, and from the amount of grief he so sparingly shared with you, here and there.

Wiping your tears, you grimaced. Even through this wail that teared your heart apart, you could not help but think back on Askeladd. Oh, how wretched he'd feel this sight would be.

It hurt even more that you'd even agree.

It's Just Like A Lighthouse In Your Hands, Like A Little Flag Flapping In The Sands...

Misty-eyed, you looked down on the mutt wreathing in the snow. In his beaten state he could no longer look down at his dagger, could not form any words of remorse, imploration or grief. It was animalistic braying, as Askeladd described, howling at a moon that won't ever rise. You observed for some more, drying your face completely before falling onto your knees before Thorfinn.

His brown eyes struggled to follow your movements but that did not bother you. Watching him twitch and turn, you scooted closer and opened your arms. Arms that felt to heavy to share any burden.

Your limbs were slow, so woefully slow and heavy as they wrapped around his hunched body. Even as you gently and gingerly pressed him against you, Thorfinn continued to cry out, seeming to not have even noticed your gesture. He seemed to only gulp back for air when the side of his head was pressed against your chest.

This cringing feeling only grew worse at the rapid speed of his heart pounding against you. It was akin a bird's panicked flappings as it tried to misguidedly escape the cage it's been put in. However, you still tried to focus on the lightening aspects. How his gasps ceased and he himself tried to take deep breaths. Your hand found the crown of his head, stroking his grimy hair.

Thorfinn jumped. These calm breaths of yours tickled his head, leaving him shuddering. Gazing into the empty, barren snowscape he pondered if - maybe if, as long as he's not mistaken - you had ever done something so comforting to him before. He thought of it to be comforting at least. The familiarity of it all left him stumped as well as equally frightened. He did not know what to make of it.

Were you always like this? You have never...embraced him like this before. Was it because of him? Did he put a distance between you? Were you hesitant, perhaps reluctant to offer him soothing solace such as this? Thorfinn did not know and he did not remember.

Letting out a confused groan, he ever so tediously turned his head and gazed up to you. Chin resting on your chest as he looked up at you like an intriguied animal.

You cringed slightly at the face before you. No longer stroking his hair, you grabbed a fistful of snow and gently rubbed it against his dark blue cheek. Thorfinn did not resist but only let out a soft croak of pain. Still, his eyes never left you. "I'm sorry. I made the bruise worse." You spoke under your breath. The snow dissolved and fell apart, leaving only your reddened palm to cup and carress his face. You hoped it would soothe the injury.

Wordlessly, you continued to graze the bruises on his face with your cold hand in an attempt to lighten the pain. The blonde, as beaten and silent as he was, fluttered his eyes close whenever your fingers touched the swollen lumps nearby. He'd croak and sigh at the lightest of touches, leaning on you on his knees and face tilted up to look at you. Wiping the blood under his nose caused him to sneeze and you ripped a handful of your cloak off, offering for him to sneeze into it.

"One more time. The blood might dry and clump up your nose." He did so as told, clumps of snot and blood pulled out of his nostrills. He sniffed, inhaling the air. You threw the blood-soaked cloth away. Wiping your hand, your brought it back up to press his head against you, hesitant, but deciding to squeeze him ever so gently. Your face grimaced but you did not want to let him know.

It was almost on command. How he let his head turn around again, his ear leaning against your chest to listen to your heartbeat. His own pounded against his chest, calmly yet alone. Lonely and longingly. Aside from it, he was empty. So, so empty he would have loved nothing more than to just lean against you and sleep. Sleep forever.

"...C'mon, Thorfinn. Let's get ourselves somewhere warm." Obeying your command once again, he looked back up at you with big eyes, before lifitng himself up. You tucked a few loose strands of unruly hair behind his ears before slinging the good arm around your shoulder, with your face close to one another, you marched back to York.

A Floating Moon...You Still Croon?

He still leaned against you, that fool.

It nearly made you smile how he almost snuggled. Yet it was just as pathetic. Pathetic and ironic like the sun that decided to bless you the moment you found York again. The snow below you all but melted away by its rays and left nothing but filthy, grimy roads. You prefered it over the slippery ice.

The town was rather crowded. Carts filled with many goods pulled by healthy, decorated horses and men with respectable blades passed by. The meeting is soon to begin, you believed.

Still, it only made you more hesitant to ask for any help. Anyone you turn to could be some high and mighty ruler of a region or worse, their vessels and guards. The many swinging scabbards at their hips did not ease your anxiety.

The side of the road it was. Better behind some stables in the shadows and out of the sight of the many servants. Thorfinn looked worse for wear and a youngling like you would definitely not be welcomed with open arms. Oh, how awfully right you were.

With another person's weight on your side, you accidentaly bumped into another. Praying they'd simply scoff or ignore you, you immediately bowed your head and apologized once they argued with you.

"Hey, hey, hey! What do you think you're doing? Bumping into me, eh? Causing an accident only to rob me from my goods, eh? I know that trick." One approached while you stepped back with Thorfinn in tow, head hanging low. You shake your head, trying to explain that it was indeed a mere accident-

"Don't pull that on me. Look at you, beaten and cold. You two must be poor beggars. C'mere, we know what to do with lot like you." As soon as you were cornered and one pulled his arm back for a punch, Thorfinn snapped his arm forward and shoved the man out of the way. He shrieked, alerting the others. "Hey, now-!" The second one grabbed your shoulder, however, he was swiftly kicked off, legs sweeped under his and falling into the manure below. Thorfinn let out something of an scoff despite his unreadable gaze.

Just as your friend was ready to bash the third man out of the trio, you made a run for it. There was no time to scold Thorfinn - you couldn't afford to earn the anger of some ruler's servant!

A mere barn was found and you snuck Thorfinn to the back behind a few bundles of hay. That certainly was close...but you didn't have the strength to berate him any more.

Instead, you tended to him some more, the best that you could as beggars. The man wasn't nearly wrong. Even now Thorfinn only let out a few hums at each action and touch, nodding meekly at each of your words. It was pitiful and equally heartbreaking.

Only to you though, it seemed.

You gently placed your hand to his forehead and sighed in relieve when not detecting a fever. It didn't appear that he had any symptoms either.

The blonde just leaned into your touch, tired.

You tucked a few unruly locks away. "I have to fetch something...I'll be right back." You snapped up only to be tugged down abruptly. Widened eyes looked down to find Thorfinn grabbing your wrist, stopping you and pulling you down. His swollen lips parted for air and eyes were still unreadable. Lying a hand on his, you tried to offer a smile, "I'll be right back, it won't take long. Just stay here and don't move from your spot."

The grip on your wrist was tight enough that you had to shake it off and leave before he could jump after you.

You missed the way his hand reached for your vanishing figure.

The port was even busier, making your heart race.

It was a mystery to you how you managed to find the short, unassuming man within the crowd of bellowing merchants and sailing boats but there he was, staring at you with wide, big eyes. He blinked a few times; Not quite certain if he should even be speaking to you - with that glare you were offering him.

"I don't know any details," You began, "But I have a request. I'll do what it takes for you to accept it." The man let out a nervous, brief chortle before taking a step forward. His hand scratched the back of his neck. The best he could was bear a crooked grin. "Now, hold on, little one. You, ah," He hesitated, blinked and took a breath, "I saw you with Thorfinn the other day. You are a friend of his, no?"

The man did not miss the way you avoided his gaze.

"And you are a relative of his, right? Uncle...Leif, it was?"

The merchant laughed and his nervous tone quickly shifted to a carefree one. It startled you yet that did not stop him from explaining his situation.

That was all nice and dandy...but you did not have time to listen to old tales.

"Listen, I know where he is. I'll take you to him but for that...you have to take him back to Iceland."

Leif could not deny that your request intriguided him. After all, just like Thorfinn you seemed to be a viking despite being his friend. He never had a viking ask him for a favour.

"I'll do whatever it takes to get him there. I'll personally drag him to your boat if I must, beat him black and blue and throw him into it." Again, Leif waved his hands and hoped his awkward laughter would ease the tension...and make you realize how dramatic your solutions were. It was not neccessary, he'd say, all that was needed was a good talk and listening to each other. To follow one's heart...and he's sure Thorfinn would choose the right answer.

That was enough for you to consider it a deal. Hurrying the older man, you were suddenly stopped as he tapped your shoulder. "I wanted to thank you, young one."

Raising a brow, it only made Leif grin.

"Thank you for being a friend to Thorfinn. He used to be such a sweet and hopeful kid...but now, he'd been through hell. I don't know all of the details but I am certain his life would have been more miserable if it weren't for you. Thank you for always staying by his side."

He continued to speak. You listened attentively, your eyes widened and fearing to tear up yet again at these kind words of this kind man.

Thorfinn could count himself lucky to have people who love him.

Listen To Me, Cleave Your Way Again, Again...

The floor was cold but thank the gods not as cold as the snow outside.

Lonely droplets of water fell down one after another and another and another; Like a melody to the puddle below. Thorfinn would have liked to thank to be alone right now. Alone and with not another soul as his company, as the trio of men chased after him and handed him over to the town's guards. With no resistance, he let himself be thrown into the dungeon.

But he could not find any gratitude in his empty heart to any gods right now.

You weren't back. You said you would be but when he looked up to the shadows hovering over him, he was met with three disgusting grins and not your smile. Bitter, bewitching, bland - it did not matter, he just needed to see your smile again.

You...held him. As if he deserved it.

You deserve to be looked for right now but he could not find any strength nor vigor to get up and escape, as easily as he was capable of it. All his head was filled of where questions on your whereabouts as his heart yearned for your presence.

A guard called out to him, speaking of an visitor. His first thought was you and how you returned to him. As best as he could, he crooked his neck and uttered your name.

Yet you weren't back still. There, sitting on the ground with the brightest smile he could muster was the man who used to tell him stories as a child. He prepared himself before he spoke. "Thorfinn. I've been told of an rowdy beggar being locked up. My gut feeling told me that might have been you, my boy."

Thorfinn sighed in disappointment and laid back down.

Leif licked his lips, taking a deep breath. "...You told me how you suffered for the past eleven years since we lost you, Thorfinn. You spoke of how I wouldn't understand, and I might not, and how...you couldn't find any peace within you as long as that man was still alive."

"...That...has nothing to do with you."

Nevertheless, the man persisted, believing it to be of concern to him. The fighting, the wars, the pain - and of how he swore it to himself to bring an end to it all by bringing him home.

A home filled with warmth and people. Of stories, some true and some silly, of food and water. Of no fear for your life and your future. A place where there was love.

"I swore an oath, you know? To myself and to Thors...that I would bring you back to Iceland. Bringing you back home where you belong, Thorfinn. That is the honor I want to uphold and the least I owe to Thors."

At the utter of his father's name, Thorfinn found the fortitude to sit up. Leif's grin was even more radiant than he remembered as a child. "So, Thorfinn...let us go back home. To Iceland!"

"Home...?"

Home...how tempting that word was. How it rolled off his tongue like stenching poison.

Home...after all this time? Why? Why would he, why should he?

Could he even?

"My boy, you said it yourself!" Leif scooted closer, his grin rivaling the sun, his eyes shining like a jewel. "So we can go to Vinland!"

Thorfinn could barely catch his breath, his empty chest that barely could hold his caving heart now rising. Rising, as he remembered the tale of old times.

A land far in the west, beyond the ocean...a land so warm and fruitful and so far away that no slave drives nor wars could reach it...

"Thors wished to go there, too...and I am sure - no, certain! Certain that if he was still alve, he would have loved nothing more than to travel to Vinland!"

Thorfinn hung his head. Was he...even allowed to hear such things, let alone do them? Take action?

"Home...and Vinland..."

Not being able to hold off his quivering smile, Leif dusted himself off as he got up on his feet. He walked slightly to the end of the bars. "And if you allowed it too, Thorfinn...I invited another companion to join us."

Now standing near the end, Leif opened his palm. Squinting his eyes, Thorfinn made out an hesitant, shaking hand peeking out from behind the wall and gingerly taking Leif's own outstretching one. He gladly wrapped his fingers around it, while the other shyly wrapped theirs around him, after a good while.

Following him, behind the wall your figure appeared - and the young blonde wasted no time to jump to his knees. You turned to him, looking down with a bittersweet smile. Thank the gods, he could see your smile that he so wished for.

Voice shaking with disbelief he called out your name.

"You gave me an heart attack."

My, did you tell him of how he did give you an heart attack when you returned to the spot with Leif and found him to be gone. Of how you told the man that he must be arrested and locked up, like the idiot that he was, and that he'd best be bribed free. Leif took the initiative and kindly asked you to wait.

Grey eyes glanced between the two of you and Leif let out a sigh of relieve, his hands on his hips. Even in this odd, ridicilous and hopeful situation that you wanted nothing more than to put your faith into, you approached the bars and looked down at your friend with the sweetest smile you could muster.

"After all this...could you take me to Vinland?"

Listen To Me, Sail Away Again, Again...A Misty Moon

I'm Missing You...

For the first time since today, you could feel the breeze.

No longer was it biting or howling but simply soothing.

This road, dirty and muddy and the chants of the people going their merry way felt like a dream.

Stepping inside Leif's humble, little boat felt like a dream.

The mention of other possibly kind merchants joining as Thorfinn held your hand - it was wonderful. Once he was out, he embraced you tight, not saying a word. He worsened his broken arm with the never-ending squeeze he gave you and definitely smeared snot and blood on your neck when he buried his head in there, but you did not dare to complain. Your arms wrapped around his body, silently grateful to have him back.

In this mess that you were and the mess that you are, you felt like the luckiest person alive. You, bewtiched by the bliss, did not complain as Thorfinn let go of your hand.

He was as quiet as a mouse, anyway. You let him ponder, you let him pout to himself. But what you could not let happen was him vanishing once again.

As he did on that snowy hill to fight Thorkell.

"Thorfinn!" Yours and Leif's scream aligning with a bird's shriek. The man just got this little boy back and now you were running off as well, searching for him. He thought he finally found Vinland. Finally could honor his own oath and quench this sadness in his heart.

It was all for nothing.

The searching, the bribing, the empty promises on his behalf...your fighting, your murders, tending his wounds and holding him in your heart. All for nothing.

Yells echoed within the meeting hall. You caught a glimpse of brown and yellow make a sharp turn for it. "Thorfinn!" Yet as men tried to flee the hall, you only struggled to get inside, hearing Thorfinn's screams for Askeladd.

He seemed to have gotten in as his figure vanished from your sight and you hardly could hear him. The yelling and screaming ceased - what had happened in there?

"Thorfinn! Thorfinn, come back! Please!"

Not a reply, not a bellow of utter agony either. It was only you, screeching out his name, screeching out to be let go as the many servants and guards dragged you out. Pulling on your cloak, pulling on your hair, your arms, your face.

"Thorfinn!"

You could not see beyond the crowd. It was eerie to not hear anything from him. Now you wished he hadn't been so quiet.

"...What...? You, are dying? You...?"

The men reckoned you to be a beggar, wondering what you are doing here. Breaking into the king's meeting.

"...Don't be so foolish...and stop this nonsense. I give you my life...but...what will you do with your life...after you've taken mine...?"

Your screaming only convinced them of your madness. A mere, hysterical beggar breaking into the king's murder.

"Thorfinn!"

"...Will you take your friend with you...? Or will you do as I did to Björn...you should go, Thorfinn. Go far, far away from here. Somewhere that isn't here..."

You shall be taken away. Hysterical but maybe useful.

"Damn it, come back! Go back to Iceland, Thorfinn! GO BACK TO ICELAND!"

Iceland is not a fruitful or promising land...you shall be useful somewhere else. Somewhere that isn't here.

"...Go, Son of Thors...become a true warrior..."

Do Good, To Be Good...Do Good, To Be Good...You're Not Alone...

For the first time today, you felt the agony that dwelled within your heart, boiling there, wating for this moment.

The faces of the people, the mud of the road pressed into your face, the cuffs on your hands. It was a true nightmare.

Ripped away from the second Thorfinn let go of your hand and did not return to you. You still missed his silhouette. It was gone the moment you were hauled out of the place and thrown into the sea.

Thorfinn did not even answer your cires.

No one would now to a slave.

[radley-writes]

:slaps book: this baby can fit so many footnotes

Introducing my new project (shhhh it's an old project with a new title that I haven't done a proper introductory post for shhhhhhhh)

She Sings The Storm

Blurb + character profiles under the cut!

Vox and Mavrik want each other dead.

That's hardly surprising, as their species have been at war for centuries and Vox is the storm demon who slaughtered Mavrik’s entire family. They would’ve finished the job if not for a relic of the Drowned Gods, which stripped them of their lightning powers mid-massacre and bound them to the soul of the only survivor. Now, if Vox dies, Mavrik dies too—and vice versa.

The Drowned Gods could revert this. Alas, they all perished a millennia ago, when a great flood banished humanity to flying cities powered by air, wind, and wave. Any answers will be at the Drowned Gods' tomb, within a legendary lost island. Vox and Mavrik embark on an expedition, braving skywaymen and sapient storms, to seek a cure for their curse.

After which they’ll commence with their overdue duel to the death. Obviously.

But they aren't the only ones hunting for the dead deities—or the only ones intent on using the Drowned Gods’ power for their own ends...

Image descriptions are in alt text!

[the-eeveekins]

I definitely feel like a lot of people underestimate Suletta's skills as a pilot because she's a woman, she often fought in duels instead of a war and she was helped by Eri early on (though only with GUND-Bit control, which isn't significantly different from how non-Newtype bit control systems work in other AUs, but somehow that's usually only a knock against Suletta, I wonder why).

Just remember that when she took on Quiet Zero in the Calibarn by herself, she was not only fighting the Aerial Rebuild and it's 11 bits, but also it's support system of possibly over a hundred Gundnodes, some of which were equiped with 4 bits of their own. All while suffering significant physical strain from the data storm. She survived that battle while only taking a couple glancing blows from Aerial, destroying multiple Gundnodes in the process, all while only trying to disable Aerial.

Also remember that she started training in the Aerial when she was just a child, and despite not fighting in wars, had years of experience piloting mobile suits in harsh, dangerous conditions by the time the series started. She was already a better pilot than basically all her peers at Asticassia when she got there. She defeated Guel even when he had cheating in his favor. She practically wiped out the entire Grassley team all while specifically not using Eri to handle the bits. She defeated the Gundams she did face, even the one piloted by a child soldier trying to kill her. Her struggles in season 1 had more to do with her own self-esteem and self-confidence issues than her skill as a pilot.

(And before anyone claims that she only looks so good becase she had a technological advantage over her opponents, I think that's a laughable thing to hold against her because basically EVERY Gundam pilot holds a technological advantage against their opponents if they're not Gundams or aces in highly specialized customs, with some rare exceptions like Amuro in the Gundam at the end of the OYW. Again, just like with Eri controlling the bits, this is something fairly common among Gundam pilots but is one thing I see that is often specifically held against Suletta for some reason.)

Is she one of the best Gundam pilots ever? Probably not. Is she only average or bad? Fuck no. Her evasion skills alone are some of the best in the franchise, especially for not being a Newtype, Coordinator or Innovator. And she displayed those skills all while suffering from severe physical pain that almost killed her and left her disabled afterwards. There's only a small handful of Gundam pilots who performed that well while their Gundam was actively killing them.

She’d absolutely prove a challenge to pin down and defeat for even the beam spammiest of pilots, and if she fought seriously after fusing with Eri/Aerial and exceeding score 8, I think she’d be an absolute menace to anything short of some of the more ridiculous mobile suits out there.

I just don't see how you can objectively watch her performance at Quiet Zero and come away thinking she's only average or bad unless you're biased against her because you hate the show or you're just plain sexist.

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

the pjo tv show is making me have thoughts about hephaestus & apollo’s dynamic, as well as apollo & ares dynamic — so i was wondering if you had any hcs for either duo or both !!

GREAT MINDS THINK ALIKE

I do for sure have some Thoughts on Apollo & Ares so I shall start there.

Apollo & Ares

Favorite Son and Least Favorite Son.

After Apollo was born, we all know he went on a mission to avenge his mom. That included killing Python, but I also headcanon this preteen storming up to Ares and demanding a fight for his mom's honor.

This was brought on because in the mythos, Ares actually chased Leto around and drove her from place to place, never letting her rest for long.

Obviously, Apollo isn't too keen on this and demands a duel.

Ares takes one look at this kid and goes you know what? I like his spunk. I'm keeping him. and lo and behold Apollo gets distracted by Ares showing him how to properly grip a sword's blade.

Also fun fact! In Ancient Greece, fathers raised their sons and mothers the daughters. Fathers would teach their sons how to swim and write, so this gets interesting once you put ToA's context with it.

In all honesty, I don't think Zeus was too involved in Apollo's growth. He was still there, of course! Enough to have a hold on him and. well. manipulate/gaslight him/abuse him.

However heartbreaking it would be to think about Zeus teaching Apollo these things (my heart. my poor sobbing heart.), I would also find it heartwarming if Ares did that instead.

Or Poseidon. But I personally think he taught Apollo how to ride horses. Let Ares have his thing :3

Because wouldn't it make sense that if Zeus couldn't find the time teach Apollo, then that responsibility would fall to the eldest son?

Jump to the giant twins now.

Apollo helps Ares recover. That is all.

THEY WERE ON THE SAME SIDE IN THE TROJAN WAR !!!!!!

Okay so. Diomedes tried to stab Apollo a few times when he was rescuing Aeneus, and Apollo CANONICALLY tells Ares about it - and lo and behold, Ares gets into a fight with Diomedes (and gets shish-kabobbed).

SO I CONCLUDE-

Apollo: Diomedes tried to stab me :(

Ares: WHAT.

Apollo: Yeah three times.

Ares: WHY.

Apollo: Aphrodite's kid? Aeneus? I was saving his ass after Diomedes stabbed Aphrodite.

Ares: THAT BITCH.

Apollo: But don't worry I took care of it-

Ares, picking up his spear and sword: HE SHALL TREMBLE BEFORE MY FURY. NOT EVEN HIS ARMOR WILL MARK HIS GRAVE WHEN I FINISH WITH HIM. HE SHALL CHOKE ON THE BLOOD HE HAS SPILT AND I SHALL LAUGH AS HIS CORPSE DECAYS. HE WILL RUE THE DAY HE HARMED EITHER OF YOU-

Apollo: he didn't touch me tho-

Ares: BUT HE TRIED!

Ares, snapping his cape: I shall take my leave. Got a bastard to stab. rides down and fights beside Hector. gets stabbed by Diomedes.

Ares, clutching his stomach: ...this didn't go as planned.

Apollo, patching it up after Zeus yelled at Ares: you don't say?

anyway. Apollo & Ares would also watch battlefields and Ares would basically be like "right. this is how to properly disembowel your enemies!" gruesomely decapitates some poor mortal. "See? Easy!"

also they would sing!!! war hymns and other things. Ares can dance too btw :3

also when Aphrodite and Apollo were polyculing with Adonis, Ares was doublely jealous because Adonis is 1) taking the attention of his girlfriend and 2) banging his favorite brother

Ares also cautioned Apollo about drawing too much attention to himself, especially Zeus's.

Too bad Apollo didn't quite take it to heart...

I think Ares already knows Apollo is being abused by Zeus. He knows the signs. He knows what's happening...because it happened to him first.

He would drop hints. Which...weren't very subtle, and kinda freaked Apollo out a bit because ohmygodsdoesheknow-?

And when Revolution time came around? You bet Ares sensed it coming from a mile away.

And perhaps he did...hmm...like with the master bolt theft...ooo gonna have to marinate that for a bit. see what i can cook up there. or if any of you have theories shoot them at me!

back to the thing. Once Ares catches wind It's A Go...he's gonna be on Apollo's side. Because godsdammit he's sick of Zeus and his horrible parenting a good war would give him a clean slate.

...Even if he has to put up with both Hera and Athena.

Apollo & Hephaestus

okay so. I haven't thought much about them because they are elusive for me BUT-

The show gave me a THOUGHT!

"Some of us don't like being that way either."

HEPHAESTUS DOESN'T LIKE THE SYSTEM. HE DOESN'T! HE HATES GOING ALONG WITH IT!

MY FIRST THOUGHT WHEN I HEARD THOSE WORDS?

APOLLO

he doesn't want to be part of it either. but he buried it inside himself. but post toa...he doesn't want to do that anymore.

and I think Apollo does like Hephaestus! I remember there was a moment where Apollo mentions being in his study or something and missing the entire 40s or whatever staring at Hephaestus's Newton's Cradle.

why was apollo in there. and did hephaestus let him in there?

BECAUSE HEPHAESTUS IS A PRIVATE GUY RIGHT? WHAT'S APOLLO DOING IN A PRIVATE ROOM OF HIS?

...unless he invited him in :D

I need to do a lil' more digging on Hephaestus and Apollo but I hope this was all interesting :3

feel free to add on readers!

[mycupofrum]

Written for @prongsfoot-microfic for 5 Jan 2024 (darkness). Rating: T. Angst, first wizarding war. James battles with his dark side. Read here or on AO3.

**

Darkness 

He was shaking violently, unable to process what had happened. 

"James!" someone cried out. "Prongs." 

James blinked, looking up. When had he sat down on the floor? His hands were curled into tight fists, and his wand was somewhere out of sight. 

"James, you're in shock. Come on, we need to go." 

When nothing made sense, his voice was the only thing that made him move. 

James stood up, barely noticing hands supporting him, pulling him up. 

"You're alive?" 

"Of course I'm alive, you great berk," Sirius huffed in exasperation. "Come on, we need to leave now." 

** 

James Potter despised the Dark Arts, he had for his whole life. The practice of something so vile was nothing but a mad attempt to taint what should be kept pure, light, good. Energy existed in everyone and everything, but only some possessed it in such quantities that it manifested as magic. 

The war was ruthless, affecting everyone's lives. Who could tell what was good anymore? What was the point, when it could be taken away? 

The thoughts raced through his mind as he pointed his wand at the woman.  

"I'll kill you for what you did to him." 

She lay defenceless on the floor, thanks to a well-aimed Jelly-Legs Curse, leering at him, her dark eyes blazing. "You don't have it in you, itty-bitty Potter." 

James's wand shook, but having witnessed his best friend lying behind him, broken and lifeless, made him tighten his grip on his wand. 

Darkness welled up inside him, engulfing him, and where he would normally push it aside, he did the unthinkable.  

He welcomed it. 

"Crucio." 

** 

James was nestled up on the sofa against the warm, alive body. 

He felt wrong. Stained. Ruined. 

"Fuck, Pads, I…" His words trailed off. 

All he knew were those hands gripping him tightly, hands that had held on to him during a side-along Apparition, guided him to one of the Order's safehouses. Hands that had healed his cuts, wiped away the excess blood. 

"You're here. You're not dead. You're really –" James rasped. 

"I'm here, Prongs. You think it's that easy to get rid of me?" Sirius's voice vibrated in his chest beneath James's fingertips. 

James looked up from the warmth of Sirius's neck. The grey eyes met his, understanding, a storm raging beneath the calm exterior. 

"It was a trick. I was never hurt." 

"I…" James heaved a breath, disgusted with himself. "I used the Crucio on her. Bellatrix." 

"She deserved it." Sirius's voice was devoid of regret. 

"D'you think I –" 

"Killed her? I don't know, didn't exactly stick around to find out. More likely you hurt her so thoroughly she'll think twice about messing with anyone's mind again. " 

James tried not to think about the revolting image of Bellatrix lying on the floor with her eyes open, bleeding from her nose and ears. She'd looked on the brink of death, and James hadn't halted the curse until his hand shook so badly that he dropped his wand. 

He'd thought Sirius was dead, that the centre of his universe, the only thing that made sense to him in the world, was gone. She'd made it happen, using Legilimency, persuading James to come out of hiding to save Sirius in a shack where he was supposed to be held for torture. 

James had gotten there, seen a body he thought was Sirius, dead on the floor. Before he'd had time to process what he saw, he'd been greeted by her. The cousin. 

Their duel had almost destroyed the building, but she'd underestimated him, arrogant enough to believe James was easy to beat after thinking he'd suffered a great loss. 

She hadn't realised that James refused to accept living in a world where Sirius didn't exist. 

"I know a lot of ways to hurt the enemy, and I don't mind doing it to Death Eaters. But I performed an Unforgivable. That only works when…" James closed his eyes. "When you mean it." 

Sirius's hand moved to his hair, stroking it gently. "I'm sorry you were put in that position, James."  

They hadn't been able to communicate as much as usual. Lily was pregnant, and it hadn't been without its complications, so James needed to take care of her. Neither of them had envisioned having a baby in the middle of the war, but it had forced them to try to make the shambles of their relationship work. 

James drew a long breath, his trembling body eventually settling against Sirius's warmth. 

"This war fucks with all of us," Sirius added. "We all resolve to do things we wouldn't normally do." 

"The thing is," James said, shame weighing heavy on him, "I don't really find it in myself to regret it." 

He locked his eyes with Sirius, whose gaze betrayed no hint of judgement. 

"I'd do it again. For you." 

Sirius's eyes flashed with something unspoken as he wrapped his arms around James even tighter.  

After a few minutes, James fell asleep with a feeling of warm lips pressing a light kiss on his temple and barely a whisper saying something he would forget when he woke up in a few hours. 

"I'd do far worse for you, Prongs."

**

[ithinkinggenshin]

Could I request for fem reader running away after a fight with (Miko, and Ei separated) but they both go searching for reader and make up-? ( you can add some spice if you want ;)

Make You Come Back

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Characters: Yae Miko, Ei

Pairings: Fem!Reader x ^above characters (separate)

Warnings: extremely vanilla smut (yae’s part), hurt/comfort

Word count: 1.4k

Synopsis: A shorter piece for this wonderful ask (that inspired another train wreck of a fic :)

Ei:

Typically, Ei prefers people who are independent and warriors. She only respects those who are willing to fight for what they believe in and those who are strong enough to pursue greater things. So the fact that she sees you as a pathetic, helpless, little thing, means that she won't budge from her role as your protector. You can't reason with her. One of the few times you hear her laugh is when you hold up a sword and challenge her to a duel.

She's never going to take you seriously. 

"You are like a light that must be protected. A tiny candle that must be shielded from the storm."

Ironic that she'd say such a thing, when she is the one who commands them.

You sigh and shake your head. You miss going to the beach by yourself. Swimming and floating with the ocean waves. You can practically feel your muscles deteriorating from their lack of use over the past few months. But Ei's having none of it. And who are you to defy an archon? 

Her words are starting to get to you. 

Tiny.

Helpless. 

Weak. 

You can't endure much more of this slander. You've been patient for long enough. Her comments about your fragility used to only be occasional, but now she mentions it whenever you see her. It's accumulating to be something you listen to her say multiple times a day. And you hate that you prove her right by letting her shut down any arguments you make. 

That has to stop. 

This has to end. 

You're so sick of it all. 

The frustration festers inside of you until it morphs into anger, which in turn builds into resentment. Your anger quickly projects onto other people. You yell at people who don't deserve it. Scare a number of shopkeepers into giving you items for free. You watched Itto literally launch himself over a stack of crates to get out of your way as you headed up to the palace. The fog of war and anger covers your thoughts. Yelling at others isn't helping.

You want her to listen to you.

Sara does not take kindly to your back talk. You may be the shogun's special one, but you're still a citizen of Inazuma, she can still arrest you.

You dare her to do it.

She shakes her head and ignores your taunting. 

You're a light. A small candle, but even a small flame is still powerful. It can grow into a violent thing. In fact, fire is inherently dangerous to begin with. What a tragic thing it is for people to need reminding of. 

Ei takes your snappy quips and angry attitude even worse than her general. She hasn't done anything wrong.

She's never wrong. 

You lose it when she says that. It's the final straw for you. You instantly start yelling at her. Ranting and going off about how she doesn't respect you, that she doesn't even see you as a person. You're just a helpless puppy that she has to protect. You're not anything but a charity case in her eyes. Someone weaker to compare herself to that will make her feel better about herself. Well fuck that. You're not going to listen to her insult you anymore. She can go find another starry eyed, delusional follower to do that. There's plenty of people she can pick from. 

You feign and exaggerate your "respectful" goodbye and storm out of her room. You're not a fire. You're a flood. You're going back to the place that makes you feel free. 

Ei stands there in shock after she watches you leave. She's never seen you in such a state. She's never heard you raise your voice unless it was to call someone out from afar. She didn't expect to feel so guilty after seeing you disappear after you closed the sliding screen door. 

Perhaps she was too much. It's hard for humans to accept their weaknesses. 

Perhaps it's that you're in a bad mood. Clearly you're angry.

Are you really... angry at… her?

Ei thinks about the situation, but she becomes more and more uncomfortable as she realizes that it's her fault that you're so upset. This tense feeling doesn't ease up, only morphs and grows. Now she feels uncomfortable and guilty and more than anything, worried.

Worried about you. 

Worried about your relationship.

Worried that she's messed up in a way that means you won't forgive her. 

She exits the palace and ignores the guards when they ask her where she's going or if she needs help. 

That must've been how you wanted to do things. 

Ei needs to find you right now. 

She starts walking through the city. She can't feel your presence among the crowds. You're nowhere nearby. She follows the traces of electro from the special pendant she gave you a while back. Her heart clenches at the thought that despite your anger towards her, you kept the necklace on. 

Dread washes over her.

Or maybe… you took it off, and the trail is only leading her away from you. Ei makes it out of the city, and surprises herself when she starts running. She's lost so much time. She can't afford to let you be angry at her for much longer. 

She had to apologize.

Before it's too late. 

She almost collapses when she finds the pendant on the beach, dumped on the sands. 

Her heart sinks. 

She vaguely hears the sloshing of water and soft steps on the beach, making their way towards her. She assumes it's some Nobushi lacky. She doesn't even bother to draw her weapon. Which is good for you, because your voice reaches her ears before you step too close for her to accidentally cuts you down. 

Her head whips up towards you, and she reaches her hand out, regret written all over her face. 

It's the first time you've seen her like this. She usually tries to cover her mistakes by resolving to do better. But right now, she's living in a moment where she can't do that. 

You don't even have to ask what she's doing before she cuts in. 

"I’m… sorry. I shouldn't have taken away your freedom. I want to protect you but not at the cost of your happiness."

"Ei," you shake your head, "I don't need you to protect me. I can take care of myself. I'm tougher than you think." You can tell she still doesn’t believe you. Words are cheap making such a claim. You take her by the wrist and raise her hand so it circles your throat. 

You look her dead in the eyes. "Go on. Test me. You should see for yourself how resilient I am." 

Ei's hand makes contact with your skin, and you can instantly feel your body tingling with the surge of power coming from her. You know you're inviting her to break you.

What a thrilling idea.

Yae Miko:

Yae Miko does not get jealous. 

Others are jealous of her. 

So don't even think for a second that the reason she's all over you now is because she was jealous of those other women, who were far too close and too touchy for her liking. She certainly wasn't jealous of that stupid little toy of yours that you cuddle at night instead of her. And she definitely isn't jealous of all the attention you give to that Kamisato girl, even when Yae is standing right next to you. 

Yae Miko is never wrong either. 

So when she decided it was your turn to be ignored by her, it was justified. It was justified for her to let you storm away after angrily yelling about how she hasn't even told you what's wrong or why she's suddenly ignoring you. And it was justified when she suddenly showed up at your house to reinsert herself back into your life. 

She obviously wasn't here because she was apologizing. She was never wrong after all. 

But you know the truth. You can always figure out her thoughts by her actions. Yae Miko can twist words all she likes, but the way she grips your thighs and bites at your flesh reveals her true intentions. 

She's desperate. Pathetically so. 

Yae Miko cannot live without you.

She needs your eyes to always be on her. She needs your hands on her skin. She needs your mouth to say her name. 

Yes. Like that.

She thrusts into you. 

Do it again.

Cry it out. 

Scream so loud the whole island hears you. 

Repeat it like a mantra, like a prayer. 

Don't worry. 

Yae Miko is here to save you. 

[kingorqueenofnarnia]

Narnia Headcanons

King Edmund the Just

Had several casual relationships and hook-ups with people of all genders, but he neither fell in love with someone nor did he think that someone was politically beneficial enough to marry. He prefers not to label his sexuality.

Narnians gave him many titles. The Fair Judge, the Swordmaster of Narnia, King Edmund the Benevolent, Representative of the People and so on. He was greatly admired in the supreme court of Narnia for his kindness and unbiased treatment of everyone. Beyond Narnian borders he was called the Cunning Fox of Narnia, King Edmund Swordstorm, Edmund the Serpent-Tongued King, the Hurricane of Narnia, etc.

He was the chief diplomat of Narnia, and frequently journeyed to foreign nations to deal with international matters. He was renowned for his art of conversation and would weave such elaborate traps with his words that his prey did not realise they were in danger until they had no way of getting out.

He was a deadly swordfighter— he carried two swords, and despite the lack of a shield, preferred to wear leather armour instead of chainmail. The unconventional armour sent the message that he was lethal enough to not need any real protection.

In one-on-one duels, Peter was better, but Edmund was known as Swordstorm and the Hurricane of Narnia for a reason. His dual swords carved through dozens of enemy soldiers within moments, cutting swathes through the battlefield like a storm. He was brutal, swift and never left a foe alive, and was probably more feared that Peter.

His hair went down to the middle of his back, and was always in braids just like Peter's. He would let Lucy braid flowers into his hair whenever both of them needed to relax or had time. It wasn't uncommon to see the Just King walking around Paravel with roses or violets or jasmines in his hair. When they fell out of Narnia, he had thirty-two braids.

His war paint was deceptively mild looking— two dark green lines running over his left eye down to his chin, and three large dots on the underside of his right eye. It did not look very terrifying, but anybody who ever made the mistake of taking him to be harmless met their death at his sword a second later.

Enjoyed both studying and sports— he often took part in wrestling competitions and mock skirmishes, and just as often could be found debating with Susan, or metaphorically destroying some poor soul that had fallen for his charm and agreed to play chess with him, or in the library with his head buried in a book.

He and Peter refused to duel each other after a certain point in time. They knew each other's fighting styles too well— the duel would always end in a draw, no matter how brutal and deadly Edmund was or how fast and strong Peter was.

Just as good a war strategist as the other Pevensies. He usually left the strategising to Peter and Lucy, but when he did put in his two words, his plans were always crucial in winning wars.

His favourite subjects were Politics, History and funnily enough, cooking. He would often sneak into the kitchens during his free time and ask the chefs to teach him how to cook. Within a year of sitting in on meal prep, he was excellent at cooking, and at least every two months the Pevensies gathered for a family dinner prepared by Edmund.

Piercings. His right ear had four piercings and left had two. He had one in his belly-button and another on his tongue, and then a vertical piercing at his right eyebrow that exacerbated the action of him raising an eyebrow.

The King of Pranks™. Permanent and semi-permanent residents of the castle were frequent targets for his pranks, and the stories of his mischief-making were so outrageous and unbelievable that if anyone who had never been on the wrong end of his metaphorical sword would never even entertain the idea of them being true.

[chocomd]

ATLA rewatch: The Storm

Holy crap the parallels between Aang and Zuko in this episode are really hitting deep!!

The episode starts out with beautiful weather and clear skies (not counting Aang's nightmare in the beginning), with no sign of a storm on the horizon. Just like how in the past, the events that would overturn Aang's and Zuko's lives would come suddenly and out of nowhere.

Then we get Aang fearful of the prospect of an impending storm and running away when the fisherman accuses him of abandoning the world, while Zuko wants to plow through and almost ends up dueling his own lieutenant over the issue of respect (until Iroh breaks them up).

When the flashbacks begin, Aang is playing with the other Air Nomad kids, and Zuko wants to join the meeting in the war room and Iroh lets him in. Both are in their usual, everyday settings and nothing seems out of place. Although there are hints that not everything is hunky dory, like Aang being the only master airbender among the kids and Zuko wanting to enter the war room without being explicitly permitted or expected to be there in the first place.

And then the events that lead to their emotional isolation. Aang being told that he's the Avatar, and being set apart by the monks as their savior and being left out from games by the other kids because he's now out of their league. Zuko watching in horror as a general proposes sacrificing an entire division to achieve a greater goal, and speaking out among the men leading the war with an objection that they do not share.

The consequences: The monks decide to send Aang away to make his isolation complete; the Fire Lord isolates Zuko even further by ordering him to fight an Agni Kai against (so Zuko believes) one of the very people in the group among whom he most wished to be accepted.

And what results afterwards is disastrous. Aang overhears the monks and runs away, only to be swallowed up by the storm and wake up one hundred years later in a world where his people no longer exist. Zuko discovers that he is to duel his own father, and submits to him in a sign of respect, which at this point Ozai deems to be the wrong response and burns his face and banishes Zuko until he finds the Avatar - a hopeless and impossible task.

Both Aang and Zuko have lost everything, and not only that - they place the blame on themselves, which gives rise to a deep sense of shame and also anger and intense emotional reactions whenever further loss is threatened (Aang with losing Katara and Appa; Zuko obsessed with regaining his honor through capturing the Avatar).

But when the literal storm worsens, both of them relive the events that led to their isolation in the first place. Aang goes out into the storm again, this time not to run away, but to save someone who needs him (the episode opens with a nightmare about his friends and his people saying "We need you, Aang," which is also repeated by Gyatso in a flashback). Zuko, who Lt. Jee accused of only caring about himself, climbs a ladder to rescue the helmsman from falling.

The storm slams Aang and his friends under the water, just like the time he ran away - but this time, he is able to save himself AND them. Zuko spots Aang flying over the ship, and he has the opportunity to go after him, but instead of risking the lives of his crew to achieve the greater goal of capturing the Avatar, he lets him go. And it's only after Aang and Zuko have redeemed or have vindicated their past actions in this way that they enter the eye of the storm, a place of calm that finally offers relief. And it's in this place where things are set right that Aang and Zuko exchange their first look that isn't one of hostility - they are seeing each other, really seeing each other for the first time.