#it's from lightning-etc-lord

[noctether]

Jing Yuan & Baiheng [starter call] @nameless-foxian

After graduating from Jingliu’s tutelage, Jing Yuan has become a bit… lazy. And much, much more mischievous. That’s why the man sneaks into Baiheng’s place, certain that the other members of the Quintet aren’t nearby anymore. Dan Feng has a meeting with Teng Xiao, Yingxing is forging something (he checked the forge, and it was on), and Jingliu is training more soldiers. Even then, being cautious is necessary, because who knows if someone seeing him won’t end up breaking his plans?

Alas, the lieutenant brings with himself a small bag, and with that he slips inside Baiheng’s place much like a criminal. “Heng-jie,” calls the young man when he’s safe behind the door, and as soon he sees the foxian, Jing Yuan grins. “Say, Heng-jie, would you like to go swimming?” Now, where they are going to swim is another story… one that Dan Feng won’t like any bit when he learns about it.

[nomaishuttle]

ALSO sry im so talkative today idk whats gotten IN to me but anyways. its sooo crazy 2 me that ppl have other birthdays that arent the sake day as my birthday like obviously i know ppl do but its crazy to me. bc january 13th is like My birthday ykwim. like its such a good day to have a birthday on so beautiful 1/13/2005 gods specialest girl was born ykwim.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Run Away To Me (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, being hunted/chased, medieval period-esc standards, arranged marriage insinuations, toxic family insinuations, angst, protective Johnny?, etc.

A/N: This series is so Lord Huron coded

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You rush through the low-hanging branches of the reaching pines, their green arms tearing at the once perfect and virginal white dress clothing your body; waves of delicate fabric like bird’s wings. Shredded and torn, you sob in large gasps while the shouting gets louder behind you—the pound of vile hooves along cobblestone. 

“After her!” Blood was rushing down a long slice in your palm, dripping to the verdant grass as you traversed the off-trial paths, the roads of animals and bandits—monsters in the night. 

Flashes of torchlight had gone out long ago, the rain slamming the ground with ancient purpose as the storm got angrier. Tree trunks slam into your shoulders, the wedding dress ripping away in strips as pine needles pierce the bare skin of your feet. Your shoes had slipped off as soon as you had started this mad dash. 

“She went this way! Quickly!” You run faster, shuffling down a long hill as mud gets packed into your flesh; infecting wounds with its slimy make-up. 

“Please,” your voice begs lowly, hiccuping out vowels as you drop to your knees at the bottom of a ravine before you sob and grit your teeth. Wading through the stream of chilled water, you dig into the ground and shove yourself up on shaking legs as rain pelts your head. “Please, I can’t go back.”

Even your thin clothes are heavy on you—body weighed down by terror and a desperate plea. Because what you said was true. You can’t go back. Can’t go back to the search party, can’t go back to the ceremony…and you can’t go back to the man you were supposed to marry. No, you’d rather face the woods. 

Scaling up the other edge of the ravine, you slam a bloody hand down to the rocks atop, pebbles flying past your face as a flash of lightning momentarily illuminates your field of view. Noises reminiscent of an animal carve their way out of your esophagus, teeth gritted as feet slip and strain. 

You heave yourself over and fight the weakness in your arms. Coughing, you pray the storm will wash away any trace of your charge to freedom—the blood and the tracks. With any luck, the hounds won’t be able to pick up your scent even with the strips of your dress left behind in the branches. 

Pushing away the water from your forehead, you stumble onwards on unsteady feet that pound with pain. Grasping at your gushing palm, you cry out as the burning pain echoes up your forearm.

“Whatever God is out there,” You speak in gasps, slurring the words as your dry throat grates. It’s all but lost to the wind in its great bouts of staggering attacks through the trucks of the trees. “Please, offer me sanctuary.” 

Lightning is the world’s answer, more streaks of light that make your soaked body flinch and shake even more. Yet, in that tiny second of light, there had been something in the far distance—a shadow. 

Your eyes peer harder, the calls from the riders suck in the back of your mind as they taper off as the search is re-routed. 

What was…?

Wooden sides, three separate rectangular shapes that stand firm in the rampaging elements. Your feet slide over the ground as you limp in the direction you’d seen them, the flesh of your body so cold that you had gone numb in the sheets of rainfall. 

A heart fills with senseless hope.

A homestead! With no other option, you take a deep, ragged, breath and continue on as quickly as you’re able; dress hanging off one shoulder. When you reach the front door some ear-ringing minutes later you’re barely standing upright—legs teetering and thighs shaking with dying vigor. 

Panting, your first banging to the wood is weak at best, barely a sound above the thunder and the slap of rain. You strangle a sob and wrench your shoulder back, landing three hard hits that act more like punches. Pain blossoms in your hand, but you continue striking the wood. 

There’s a loud ruckus from behind the blackened barrier, a yell, and before your knuckles can make themselves bleed from fear-filled adrenaline, the door is whipped open. A dim firelight spills out from a low hearth and you find yourself staring into the narrowed eyes of a man and his exasperated expression. 

There’s the beginning of a growl, heavy with an accented voice, “Now who in the hell is—!”

A strong jaw goes slack, brunette stubble stilling. Blue eyes like cobalt instantly peel back to show the whites, words strangled away in a sharp inhale. 

The man is in his late twenties, stocky, and clothed in a loose sleep shirt made of thin linen with black pants. His shoulders were near large enough to knock on the frame of the door as he stood in it, built with the strength of a boar and then some. His large, lightly-tanned hand on the door slackens as his eyes speedily dart down your disoriented form. Biceps the size of your skull.

Heart hammering, you stare for a moment longer, rain pelting your back and looking like a wet dog. It’s as if you’ve forgotten to speak beyond gasps for air, but your eyes implore enough for you. The stranger recovers from his surprise at seeing such a beautiful lone woman at his door with a clearing of his throat.

“...Christ, Dearie, you’re soakin’ wet out here.” He shoulders the door open wider without another question. “Inside, now, quickly.” 

You wrap your arms around your waist and speed into the shelter of the home, water dripping down to the wood as you shiver and your teeth clatter. Not for a second did you think if this might be safe or not, too scared of the riders and their hounds than anything. You wouldn’t allow them to drag you back to your husband-to-be. Not in a million years. 

Your voice is hiccuping as you speak.

“I…I don’t mean to i-intrude, I’m very sorry, Sir.” The man looks around his home before he spots a large bear fur by the messy bed in the corner—he rushes over and grabs it. “I ask forgiveness for w-waking you at such an hour.”

“Jesus, is that what you’re worried about?” Blue eyes crease at you as the heavy fur over your shoulders; your hands snap to catch it, the entire thing swallowing you as gaze up in confusion. The man frowns, staring back as water drips from your nose. “Let’s just focus on gettin’ you dry, yeah? You’ll catch your death like this, Little Lady.” 

A wide hand presses to the expanse of your spine, prodding you forward as you squeak at the sudden contact. You’re guided to a small chair in front of the hearth, plopped down and the sides of the fur are hiked up to your neck quickly.

The stranger kneels down in front of you, focused, and his tired eyes alight with worry. He makes sure the fur isn’t going to fall as he blinks over the state of your hands. He pauses, his large grip stalling at the sight of spreading blood. 

Your wound—you’d almost forgotten. 

“Now what’s this, then?” The brunette's words are quiet, very in-tune with your state as you try to catch your breath and shiver. It was like coaxing a wild animal. 

Blinking, you shift your hand farther under the bear's fur, bringing it to your chest. 

“I won’t be here long, Sir. I promise,” you try to change the topic, but quickly jerk your nose into the crook of your arm as you sneeze, bending over slightly as mud and blood stain your skin. 

Lips tighten along a square face.

“It’s Johnny, Miss.” The world outside rages on, blocked out by the four walls of this nicely sized home of wooden logs and boards. It was well-made with pine and cider, the large hearth in the back wall with inlets near the shuddered windows and various crudely carved pieces of art. 

Weapon displays lined the walls, various makes and models hung on pegs. Axes and swords, spears with red-leather shafts set next to halberds of black steel. You blink at them in slight concern, not used to being around weapons. 

Johnny, as he calls himself, sees this and quickly explains as he rubs at the back of his head, eyes crinkling. 

“Ah, Johnny MacTavish, the blacksmith, that is,” a small, rough chuckle echos out. 

You ease at that. 

“Mr. MacTavish,” you give your name and offer a kind, yet still anxious, smile. “I give my thanks for allowing me shelter. A-and the fur.” 

His gaze slips down to your hidden hand once more, face swirling with an unidentified emotion before studying your torn wedding gown.

“Well, I’m not one to leave a person out on my doorstep in weather like this. Certainly not a Lady.” His brow raises, head tilting. “You going to let me clean that wound a’yours or am I going to have to fish it out myself?” 

Your body tenses slowly, bare feet shuffling over the floor. Staring at Johnny, you gaze at the strangely cut hair atop his head and the messy strands that speak to a night of shifting on his bed. His face is honest and open to you, blinking in soft question as his head angles to the side with an easy twitch of his lips. 

“It’s really not necessary,” you try to chuckle but it falls flat, eyes red and heart still speeding. 

Johnny sighs and glances at the fire, blinking before he shifts to grab another log and toss it in with no concern for the heat of the flame that lap at his fingers. You watch his muscles bunch under his shirt and quickly look at your lap. 

“I’m not the greatest doctor out there, Dearie, but I can do good with washin’ out a cut an’ wrapping it.” You study him and nervously tighten your lips. Johnny’s face seems to soften, hands going up and wrists tilting as his knee stays connected to the floor; firelight on his face. A small smile blooms. “C’mon, I’m not that scary of a bastard, am I?”

You spare a tiny chuckle, shoulders jumping as rainwater slips down your chin. Your shivering was still going on, and would until you got a change of clothes, but the warmth from the fire was helping tremendously. Already feeling was returning to your limbs. 

“Ah,” the blacksmith huffs a laugh, “there’s a smile. Now, let's have a little look-see shall we?” 

Under the fur, your hand lightly shifts, coming back into view, slit palm and all. Johnny’s eyes darken, face going serious behind his stubble. Brown brows turn in. 

“Now where in the hell did you get a—” Just as his gigantic hands were about to circle around yours, there was a violent knock at the door. 

You shoot up in an instant, jerking away from the blacksmith as he snaps his head to the front, eyes lighting. He stands up slowly as you back up a few paces, eyes frantically darting back and forth. The knocking starts up again and thunder peels from outside. 

Your form flinches.

“You can’t let them take me back,” you say quickly, breathing catching up in speed again. Fear burns your lungs and suddenly you’re ten times colder than before. “Mr. MacTavish, please, I can’t go back.”

Another round of knocking shakes the barrier. Blues eyes stare at you blankly, half-turned face pulled in visible confusion as Johnny’s jaw clenches. 

A voice echoes from under the door as the blacksmith once more lets his eyes linger down your battered frame; taking in cuts and the limp you carry. Muddy feet and water stained red. His hands twitch at his sides. 

“These are the guards of Lord Wilkin, would anyone in this home come to make him or herself known? It is of the utmost urgency!” You grow more fearful, head darting to find any other exit in this home but you land on nothing besides the windows. Your fingers shake with panic.

No, no, no.

Confusion gives way to deep concern.

A hand grasps your upper arm and you’re being hurried to the corner wall by the front door with fast feet and a firm, iron, grip. An accented voice mumbles quietly by your ear, “Keep quiet for me, Dearie. It’s alright, you let me take care of it.”

He stands you there and takes one last look at you, blinking, before grabbing the bear fur and pulling it above your head in a swift motion. There’s a quiet chuckle as you tense and slam a hand up to the brown material instinctually before Johnny darts around the corner and opens the door. You hold your breath and listen.

“Well, steamin’ Jesus, you bastards have any idea what time it is?! And in this damning weather, you show up at my door reamin’ on the wood like you’re the one who has to keep it anchored to the frame.” There’s a fast conversation of apologies and explanations that you can't catch above the yell of the rain.

“Does it look like I give a shite about a lost bride? Not my fuckin’ place to keep ‘er…I’ve seen nothing besides you…anyone out in this storm is as good as lost…” You listen and stay completely still, holding your breath as if it’s a prisoner in your lungs. 

You can hardly believe it. Why was this man…lying for you? A wounded stranger that had shown up at his doorstep in nothing but a tattered gown and babbling through tears. Anyone else would have turned you over—especially to your betrothed, Lord Wilkin. He owned these lands and held fiefs by all who lived here. Not a man to mess with, if your slit palm was anything to go by.

“Go on!” Johnny calls loudly, and the door closes a second later, the latch locking. There’s a moment of nothing, before the clearing of a throat and a soft call. “Well, they won’t be back, least.” 

He pops around the corner and smiles comfortingly. 

“Sorry about the yellin'.” You part your lips in innocent awe and you take a deep breath before speaking slowly.

“Why would you do that?” His expression tightens, crossing his arms over his chest. Under him, his large hips shift.

“Ya asked, didn’t you?” Your blank expression only serves to make him chuckle heartily, head shaking. Johnny hums, “I won’t press you about it all tonight, though I well should. You’re in no shape for it.” Cobalt eyes glance at the food before looking back up. “But I’m guessin’ you have a good enough reason to sneak off as I hear you did.” 

The very blood in your body heats with warmth.

You’re waved back over to the chair by the hearth. “Let’s get that injury looked at and I‘ll get you a change of clothes. You can take my place for the night,” eyes twinkle, “there’s no bed bugs in it, Dearie, knight’s honor.”

“What about iron shavings?” You call back softly, lips jerking up momentarily. The man’s actions had given you a large amount of trust in him. Johnny blinks in surprise at your joke, but a large grin grows moments later as you walk over delicately.

“Can’t say for certain, but I promise there’ll be no weapons under the covers. If anyone breaks in they’ll find my fists to be the first iron they get a touch of.” 

Your laugh bounces off the walls, hand coming up to cover your mouth in the picture of a cultured upbringing. Johnny chuckles in turn, looking smug. He liked your laugh, it seems.

“That was detestable, Mr. MacTavish.” You sit down, and Johnny kneels where he had been before—his hand outstretched where you carefully place your wounded limb. 

Immediately you feel the scrape of old burns and calluses, hands hardened by long hours of labor and intensive demands. You’re certain these are the hardest hands that have ever touched your skin, but it astounds you by how gently you’re being caressed and turned. People with far fairer flesh have never handled you like this. As if you would break apart with the barest of pressures.

Your breath stills as the blacksmith, with all the care of a butterfly, tilts your cut into the light and studies it, thumb absentmindedly brushing up and down your wrist. You hold back a shiver. 

“Ah,” he grumbles, still smiling yet more focused on your injury now. “It wasn’t that bad.”

You hum under your breath and try not to flinch when he wipes away a stain of mud near your wound. The blacksmith grunts to himself, gentle pressure at your flesh like the scuff of tree bark. But it wasn’t unpleasant. No, you thought, not at all. 

The two of you fall into a hole of soft silence, Johnny leaving for a moment to grab a bucket of water and bandages, saying in a mutter that he had plenty of the former to go around.

“Have a habit of burnin’ myself on my bad days, y’see,” he shimmies past, pausing before pulling back up the bear fur from where it had slightly slipped down your neck. “Comes with the job.”

Your face burns as he grabs what he needs, eyes stuck on your lap. You were astounded by the man’s ability to put away his obvious confusion for your care, how he was content to wait for answers until you were rested. It was honorable of him. 

Thinking back to Lord Wilkin’s guards at the door, your thighs shift over the chair. They’d be looking for you until they found you—be that days or months, it didn’t matter. The Lord wasn’t someone to let what he wanted get away from him. Like senseless beasts, your family would undoubtedly help. Your chest is stiff with worry. How would you get away with this?

The scene you’d made at the wedding wasn’t exactly subtle. 

Johnny comes back carrying a small bucket of fresh water, ladled from the wash basin, and a bundle of clean white cloth. 

“Alright,” he huffs, “let’s get this sorted, eh, Dearie?” The wound was very obviously a slice from a knife, anyone could see it. 

Johnny takes your hand once more and holds it in his palm, glancing up at you before dipping one of the cloths into the water and beginning to clean the cut. 

“Is it…bad, Mr. MacTavish?” You ask, worried about the likelihood of scarring. That would be the last thing you would want. The blacksmith looks up from where he pats the edges, the fabric already going red.

“Just Johnny, if it pleases you,” he smiles, hulking form seemingly all a facade to hide a cheeky and loyal Scot. “And…no, not bad. If you’re worried about a mark, don’t be—it’s deep but only at the beginning. A slight discoloration, no more.” His brows pull back, teasing, “You’ll not end up like me, at any rate.” Your shoulders ease back, and you let him work with a thankful comment and a giggle.

You watch and take in the way his jaw clenches and loosens as he works, completely focused as if he was fashioning an axe and not helping a complete stranger. 

“There’s no harm in scars,” you settle on saying, thinking over his last comment. Blues lock with your eyes, head tilting like a hound. Your face gains a slight heat to it and you stutter, “It’s just this one I’d rather not carry, Johnny.” Smiling warmly, you see the man’s lips part, his motions stalling for a moment as he looks up at you and blinks. “But yours suit you if…I’m allowed to say.”

It’s then that you realize that a slight flush has come to his cheeks, starting from under his stubble and leaking out to his cheeks like a red blaze—his gaze burrows deep with hidden fire that rivals the dancing shadows from the hearth.

Noticing, your own face burns all the hotter as the blacksmith quickly clears his throat, snapping his eyes away. Fingers once more cleaning your cut, he grunts out, neck now shifting to a blush of crimson, “...Thank you, Miss.” 

You stay in silence for the rest of the delicate process; the air heated and rolling with something. Electricity sparks when Johnny’s hands rub across yours, large enough to break you in an instant but acting like moss over a stone. You find yourself falling into a sort of comforted state you hadn’t felt in a long time—the fur over your shoulders and the tingle of skin-on-skin contact that expects nothing but offers all. 

“There,” Johnny says at last, and a part of you wants to cry when he pulls back, standing slowly. A firm but malleable wrapping is over your palm, a tiny knot tied in the middle to keep it from falling off. 

You bring it to your abdomen and blink, the other hand going to run over the material. 

“Thank you, Johnny. Truly. If I hadn’t found your homestead, I would have been lost.” The man rubs at the back of his neck, tunic bunched up by his elbows. 

“Gah,” after a second of bruising off the comment, he waves a hand while his wide chest puffs with pride. “It’s no trouble, really. Keeps me on my toes.”

Outside the storm continues to beat the walls, and the blacksmith can’t help but feel his eyes drawn to your dwarfed form under the large fur, the dripping water, and the weight of your gown. Based on the information from the guard, he had a decent story already forming in his head. 

A runaway bride and an angry Lord. By his own role as the fiefdom’s accomplished blacksmith, he should be turning you over. But your eyes had been flooded with tears when you’d pounded on his door; soaked in rain and mud—blood. No shoes. Freezing. 

You had looked so afraid, his heart had hurt for you, a strong need to shelter you stuck like a knife into his ribs. Johnny had seen much in his life, war, and death, but your desperation had stuck a cord in him. 

He’d keep you here with no charge, offer food and shelter, and do what he can to understand your situation. If not for simply hospitality sake, then because he had heard your laugh and had found it to be like a bird’s call in the wake of a dew-coated morning. Your soft skin like the wisps of fire from his forges. Your voice like a rippling spring. There was no way to describe the way he wanted to help besides to admit to himself that he was a good man. 

And, while cocky, the blacksmith had never once been self-absorbed.

He watches you rub at your damp cheek and starts out of whatever trance he had been sucked into. 

“I’ll…” Johnny rubs at his neck again, “I’ll get you that change of clothes, Bonnie. You just wait right here.” 

You stare at his back as he strides over, the fatigue washing back over you now that the adrenaline leaves in its stupendous sweep of heavy heartbeats. Anyone else would have given you up. Your face softens, seeing the quick dig of hands into the stack of clothes in the dresser. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” the man huffs, looking over his shoulder and shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Dearie, all I’ve got are my tunics and pants.” Black and pale cream linen is held up on display. 

“Oh,” you mutter, “I don’t mind,” your chuckle makes his lips twitch with care. “I would just prefer to be out of this…thing.” Your eyes glare down at the tattered gown, breathing softly. “Anything is perfect.”

“Well, then I hope you don’t mind the smell of fire,” Johnny hums. “Here you are.” As much as his insides twist to understand the story, making sure you don’t run a cold was more important. 

Your legs push you up and you walk over softly, gliding over the wooden floor to take up the articles and dig your fingers into the warm and easy texture, thin stitching, and cuffed wrists. There was a cut down the neck with a tied cord looped through, making up an ‘x’ pattern. 

“I would say thank you again,” you begin, “but I think you’ll be getting annoyed with how many times I’ve already said it.”

Johnny laughs, crossing his arms over his chest and setting his feet. 

“Ah, perhaps only a little.” Silence laps into a minute, and you study him with slow puzzlement, tilting your head. For a moment, the man wonders what he’s done. The blacksmith’s dark brows furrow, lips moving back. He looks down at the clothes again and starts with a wild blinking of his lids. 

“Oh! Hell’s bells, right,” Johnny walks to the other side of the room and swiftly turns his back to you with respect and a burning neck. He cringes. “Christ.” 

You laugh brightly, letting the fur fall to the floor as you undress and shimmy into the borrowed clothes. Your nose takes in the scents of metal and fire—fatty linseed oil used to protect a blade against corrosion. With the crackling fire, you slip the large tunic above your head and find that it falls heavily over you; far thicker than it seemed and very comfortable, ending at your lower thigh. 

But those scents make your head spin, rolling up the cuffs as you bring your nose to the collar and once more take it in with a slow breath. You hum and move, throwing the bear fur back atop your shoulders and grabbing your ruined garments from the floor before calling out to the rod-straight figure. 

“Johnny?” His arms lightly jerk, as if he’d been unfocused, but he doesn’t turn around. “Where would you like me to throw these?” 

The blacksmith delicately tilts his head to the side and utters with his eyes stuck to the side wall. “Bin by the door is just fine.” You look to the container holding scraps and other garbage to be taken out and drop the gown in before rubbing your cheek. 

Wide cobalt eyes stare at the clothes you wear heavily, jaw loose before he re-set it and averts his gaze. Johnny chuckles to ease himself and loops his thumbs into his waistband, embarrassed.

“Do you need anything else, then?” Your eyes blink with fatigue.

“No, I…I don’t think so.” Gazing at the home, your lips thin. Your family would have a heart attack if you even mentioned that you were staying the night at a complete stranger’s homestead. No protection, no way to beat off a blacksmith beyond a well-placed punch, and running from your betrothed. To say that you’d cause anything less than a heart attack would be generous. But Johnny felt different. Firmer in his emotions and intentions. Far more than the Lord. 

That was really all that matted. 

“Are you really sure this is okay,” you still ask hesitantly, gargantuan clothes atop your frame. Johnny is already nodding firmly.

“It’s my pleasure. I won’t be turnin’ you back out to the woods in a storm like this.” For whatever reason, the next words fall from his lips like an oath. “There’ll be no harm comin’ to ya as long as you stay under my roof.” 

Your hand burns with the memory of his gentle grip and your heart skips beats. You feel as if a great weight is lifted, even if only for a night. 

“Alright,” your words barely make it to air, and you grip the bear fur harder to stop yourself from kissing this man’s cheek, wanting to take him into a tight hug. 

Johnny takes a blanket from the bottom of his bed and shuffles over to the inlet below the shuddered window, sitting down while you slowly walk forward. 

“But, Little Lady,” you rest on the edge of the bed and look up to find him watching you intently, leaning back with a hand behind his head and the other on his stomach. The fire still crackles, the storm still dances outside, and the room is still tight with something you can’t put a name to. Like you’re caught in a trap of soft pillows and the scent of metal, you listen to the blacksmith with bated breath. “I’ll be needin’ answers…you hear?” 

Licking your lips, you nod tersely. “Tomorrow,” you agree. 

Johnny gazes off into your eyes, the runaway bride that had shown up on his doorstep and captured his attention like a bird made of a white wedding gown and panicked breath. He sneaks a peek down at your wrapped hand as you settle on his bed, burrowing into his furs and his covers—wearing his clothes. 

For some unknown reason, the smallest of blood stains makes his chest roll with bright anger. 

“Tomorrow,” he grunts through a tight jaw before he fights to turn his head away from you. It’s a long while before he sees any type of sleep, listening to the sound of your soft breath and the crackle of the fire.

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[xi-vz]

Ahaha, we’re gonna be hit by Hurricane Milton, and instead of focusing on that my brain went “SQH HC’s?” So here we go!

• SQH is charismatic. He’s a Peak Lord and no one suspects him as a spy! He’s well-liked and socially competent and comes across as trustworthy

• He’s a ball of anxiety inside but externally? Confident, funny, handsome! You’d never guess he was shitting his pants 90% of the time

• He has dimples

• He tells dry and dirty jokes under his breath a lot, but Mu Qingfang is the only one who catches them

• He talks to himself ALL THE TIME, people now ignore him when he’s working and muttering

• His second family is dead, and his situation was similar to Shen Jiu’s until he managed to run away

• He began to cultivate as soon as he got his memories back

• He comes across as the “weakest Peak Lord” but SQH’s golden core is on par with Yue Qingyuan, except that he’s never experienced qi deviations

• He can probably take Liu Qingge on in a fight if he were angry enough

• Just because SQH knows how to fight doesn’t mean he does. He’s a lover not a fighter and he’d rather not risk his life like that, thanks

• Mobei-Jun pretty much lets him do whatever he wants. Yeah, SQH is his spy, but he’s also kinda his bestie? They don’t talk about that though

• He gets hit on a LOT. He’s handsome and has a great public personality, a lot of people he trades with try to marry their daughters/sisters/nieces/etc off to him all the time

• SQQ hates how much he likes SQH because Airplane was his favorite the writer he read out of spite and he wanted SQH to be someone he could continue to hate but he can’t!

• SQH tried to rescue LBH as a baby but was punished by The System for it (his punishment was electrocution)

• He’s scared of lightning storms

• He’s fallen asleep in the same bed as MBJ dozens of time since they were teens, but neither talk about it

• SQH is the only person who’s made MBJ laugh (and it scared the shit out of him the first time it’s happened)

• MBJ and SQH lost their virginities to each other when they were 18, and it was The Worst ™️. They don’t talk about it either, and neither bother to try again until decades later.

• SQH has a handful of safe houses

• He’s actually a self-made rich man, he’s made a lot of personal investments over the years and they’ve always paid off

• He has a permanent limp from an injury he received as a disciple that he can’t seem to heal with his cultivation

• He can drink most people under the table

• He writes and sells yellow books

• He’s one of the fastest flyers on the peak

• He practices inedia waaay too often

• He falls asleep easily in random places

• His leisure houses main room looks like a library

• SQH is an excellent singer, but he only ever does it when he’s alone or with MBJ—and usually he forgets MBJ is there when he does it. He likes singing power ballads, which confuses MBJ but he also really likes it?

• MBJ fell in love with SQH almost at first sight

[rainystarters]

* ☔ : action prompts inspired by FANTASY, NOBILITY, ETC. some prompts are usfw. add reversed for the muse receiving the meme to perform the action instead. ( adjust scenarios or specify details as needed. )

crown of dawn. sender swears their fealty to the receiver.

crown of silver. sender congratulates the receiver on their political engagement, hiding their true affection for the receiver.

crown of midnight. sender dances with the receiver at a masquerade.

crown of glass. sender meets the receiver while their true identity is concealed.

crown of shadows. sender controls the receiver through magic or blackmail, making them their pawn so they can rule from the background.

crown of ink. sender meets the receiver for the first time after they are joined in an arranged marriage.

crown of starlight. sender kneels before the receiver to receive a boon.

crown of rot. sender accuses the receiver of failing their people.

crown of sorrow. sender tells the receiver they are the new lord/queen/etc. as those ahead of them in the line of succession have died.

crown of blood. sender stands before the receiver to be judged for their crimes.

crown of lies. sender accuses the receiver of not being the true heir.

crown of thorns. sender crowns the receiver after killing the previous ruler.

crown of nightshade. sender consumes a poisoned drink meant for the receiver.

---

wand of bone. sender uses necromancy to raise the receiver's companions from to dead to aid the sender in fighting against the receiver.

wand of ivy. sender ensnares the receiver in a net of living vines.

wand of twilight. sender conjures the spirit of the receiver from the land of the dead to speak with them.

wand of clouds. sender infiltrates the receiver's dreams to learn their desires.

wand of portals. sender summons the receiver to their world.

wand of resurrection. sender brings the receiver back to life.

wand of memory. sender clouds the receiver's mind so they don't leave.

wand of blossoms. sender grows flowers in the receiver's hair.

wand of salt. sender heals the receiver's wounds.

wand of leaves. sender asks the receiver to read their fortune.

wand of lightning. sender conjures a storm to impede the receiver.

wand of masks. sender crosses paths with the receiver while disguised as them.

wand of flesh. sender wounds the receiver to fuel their blood magic.

---

sword of honor. sender challenges the receiver to a duel to decide an argument.

sword of moons. sender wakes up to discover the receiver pressing a blade against the sender's throat.

sword of sacrifice. sender takes a deadly attack meant for the receiver.

sword of wrath. sender kills the receiver's loved one(s) as they watch.

sword of loyalty. sender executes someone at the receiver's command.

sword of blessings. sender asks the receiver to bless their weapon before battle.

sword of madness. sender tries to stop the receiver's bloodthirsty rage.

sword of ruin. sender tortures the receiver for information.

sword of defeat. sender surrenders to the receiver after a hard-fought battle.

sword of ash. sender asks the receiver to kill them for failing the receiver.

sword of spite. sender twists their weapon deeper into the receiver's wound.

sword of wind. sender quickly kills an enemy before they attack the receiver.

sword of betrayal. sender stabs the receiver in the back.

---

card of misfortune. sender catches the receiver trying to pick their pocket.

card of coins. sender buys the receiver a drink at a tavern.

card of vipers. sender meets the receiver in a thieves' den.

card of fools. sender finds the receiver caught in a trap, magical or otherwise.

card of iron. sender recognizes the receiver from a wanted poster.

card of vultures. sender is caught looting a dead body by the receiver.

card of songs. sender asks a bard to sing a ballad about the receiver.

card of keys. sender picks a lock to help the receiver escape.

card of winter. sender finds the receiver dying of frostbite and gathers them in their arms to warm them.

card of dust. sender finds the receiver asleep over a book and wakes them.

card of stars. sender keeps the receiver company during first watch at camp.

card of crows. sender warns the receiver they're being followed but that the sender can protect them—for a fee.

card of twine. sender stitches a wound shut for the receiver.

---

heart of virtue. sender presses a kiss to the back of the receiver's hand.

heart of devotion. sender slips their signet ring onto the receiver's finger.

heart of roses. sender gives the receiver a token of their favor before a tourney.

heart of thrones. sender kneels before the receiver to pleasure them.

heart of destiny. sender tells the receiver they are fated or reincarnated lovers.

heart of honey. sender intimately feeds the receiver by hand.

heart of darkness. sender cloaks themselves and the receiver in shadows so they can kiss in public.

heart of stone. sender asks the receiver to be their lover as they can't marry.

heart of gold. sender renounces their title to be with the receiver.

heart of wolves. sender intimately licks blood from the receiver's body.

heart of knives. sender cuts the clothes from the receiver's body, unable to wait.

heart of dusk. sender meets the receiver in secret to be together.

heart of embers. sender initiates intimacy to keep the receiver warm.

[lichtluxx]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟWho is Leviathan?

Leviathan is described as a primordial serpent, found in many ancient myths of the Middle East. The most famous being Tiamat, for example. Leviathan was one of the possessing Demons named in the Loudun Possessions.

According to a Miscellany of Medieval Hierarchies, Leviathan is classified as a Dragon of Chaos. While according to Peter Binsfeld (1589) from Treatise on Confessions by Evildoers and Witches: Leviathan is the demon of envy, a title that follows him to this day. He also being the Lord of the Sea and the Void, as those are his domains.

Leviathan appears a lot in the Bible.

It is said that in the very beginning, YHWH created beings of great size to rule over the earth. Ziz, resembling a phoenix, ruled over the sky and all animals within it. Behemoth, resembling an ox, ruled over the land and all animals within it. Leviathan, the most feared and powerful of all, ruled over the sea and all animals within it. According to some, Leviathan dislikes these siblings of his.

We have some descriptions about him in the Bible by the way.

Isaiah 27: Leviathan is described as a sea serpent, long, strong, twisted and swift.

Job 41: Leviathan is described as a monster with a mouth that spews flames, a nose that smokes, a breath that kindles fire, and strength in its neck.

Psalm 104: Leviathan is described as a sea monster that likes to play in the sea.

In Jewish mythology, YHWH created two Leviathans, one male and the other female, as a way of demonstrating his power.

However, he killed the female one in fear of human extinction if the Leviathans reproduced. For this reason, for many practitioners, Leviathan can choose to appear as either a man (like in my case) or a woman, sometimes changing between both forms.

In the words of Asenath Mason, Leviathan is “the soul of the world, the eternal beginning and end, the element of chaos within, and the divine potential lying dormant in dark recesses of human psyche… [He is] the primal force of all creation and all destruction… Leviathan is the very beginning, the original cosmic force that gave rise to the universe… He is the Above and the Below."

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟ Titles:

Emperor, King, Prince, Dark Lord

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟ Epithets:

Emperor of the Void, Emperor of the Abyss, Lord of the Depth, Lord of the Emotions, Master of the Black Ocean, Lord of the Deep, Prince of King of the Sea, Coiling Serpent, Great Devourer, Dragon of the Apocalypse, Lord of Storm and Lightning, Guider of Dreams.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟENN:

Jaden Tasa Hoet Naca Leviathan

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟDates:

April 30th, May 2nd, September 21st

Monday

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟHerbs / flowers:

Lavander, iris, lotus, copal, mint, valerian, eucalyptus, sandalwood

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟ Colours;

All shades of blue, all shades of green, black, silver, grey, white

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟ Crystals:

Aquamarine, Pearl, Obsidian, Sapphire, Moonstone, Tanzanite, Black Tourmaline, Hydrogen Quartz, Amazonite, Black Jade, Clear Quartz

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟ Animals:

Serpents, large marine life, seahorses, dragons

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟnumbers:

3, 7

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟSigns? How do I know if he wants to work with me?

Signs can vary. For me, he simply appeared in a dream, so I didn't have many signs.

But it is common to think about the sea or feel like being in the water, dreaming about the sea, seeing his sigil (Leviathan cross) everywhere, seeing snake and/or ouroborus themed objects, him visiting your dreams.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟ Domains:

Darkness, emptiness/abyss, emotions, unconsciousness, dreams, shadow work, emotional healing/processing trauma, protection, changes, justice, banishing magic and help in creating spells.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟTypes of offerings:

Pearls, shells, starfish, fossils, blood, seawater, bones, dragon, snake or ouroborus themed items, sweets, chocolate (preferably dark), green tea or white tea, hard liquor, dark ambience music, blue flowers, devotional art (paintings, drawings, songs, poetry, etc), his crystals, study of philosophy, psychology and science (studying in general), lavender incense, mint incense, sandalwood incense, eucalyptus incense, copal incense, windchimes, tears, shadow work, donating to ocean conservation, meditation, self improvement, crying it out, wearing his sigil, researching about him.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟFun fact:

Leviathan's most known sigil, well known as the "Satanic Cross" or the Brimstone symbol, it represents absolute balance. The two bars at the top of the cross symbolize double protection and the balance between the masculine and the feminine. The lower part shows the symbol of infinity, which symbolizes the eternal balance of the universe, of life and death, eternity and/or a double ouroborus that symbolizes the balance between the spiritual and the material.

His name comes from the Hebrew Livyatan, which means to twist, turn or coil. Nowadays, this name can refer to big animals, such as whales.

John Milton, in his epic poem Paradise Lost, describes Leviathan as “the Arch-Fiend,” who lurks about the seas around Scandinavia. He would rise to the surface and fool sailors into thinking his huge bulk was actually land. When the ships were close, he would drag them down and sink them.

In Hebrew lore, Leviathan has two aspects, male— Leviathon, the Slant Serpent — and female —LILITH, the Tortuous Serpent.

The Zohar also describes Lilith as a female aspect of LEVIATHAN, who has a SERPENT body. She is Leviathan, the Tortuous Serpent, the counterpart to the male aspect, Leviathon, the Slant Serpent. Lilith is the serpent who tempts Eve with the apple of forbidden knowledge in paradise and thus instigates the Fall. She also persuades Eve to seduce Adam while she is menstruating and impure.

According to The complete book of demonolatry by S. Connolly:

A/n: Many people don't know who he is or don't work with him and, as someone who started working with him very recently, I wanted to make this little post in his honor 🥺

[diediegamchicothdie]

First thank u @queenoftheundergroundscene for the Varg's cringe love letter

Now

Who is Lullaby Oliveira and why varg hates Brazil???? (Beside he's racist)

Lullaby is a black metal musician and artist from Brazil who highlights the sexual element on black metal (she writes stories about fuck with demons), and she the front girl of underground band Lullaby which had the peak of popularity on 90's.

How did she meet Varg? We don't know, she probably met Euro (he liked to talk with everyone in metal's world because he was a 🦜🦜) first and then she "spoke" with Varg, and I said "spoke" because she never answered, probably she died in cringe, my girl was talking about fuck demons and he introduced to her with "Southron" lol.

So, I just did this post to show this meme

(Instagram: meijemsimplol recuerden que soy una presa política por meta)

Maybe Faust cannot take revenge for his best friend murder, but at least he can get married with a Brazilian baddie!!!!!

And remember:

Southron Lullaby!

This is the manifest of male magic, this is the lidless eye, Count Grishnackh of no colors. Your letter was very interesting.

It was not long nor informative.... But it gave me a feeling of wonder. After reading it I thought of women of secret shadow.

As if beauty was their voice.....Calling for males to follow them into the shadows of the woods where evil lurks,

evil creatures and spirits who no one dare belive in. Among theese creatures....the nymph...the woman! I got this feeling that you

where sutch a "woman" tempting me to follow you. Write "Count I'm in the fell ... follow me ... "Lullaby" I think most males would

blindly follow you....without thinking about where you would take them. Mayby that is your goal? Mayby I should belive you when you

say you are Lucifer's? I recognized myself a lot. I enjoy to capture the love of females...It strengthen me. Also I drink virgin blood

whenever I can. And of course steal the virigin of many young beautiful, innocent, kind, unknowing girls. By playing music I geta lot of

worshipp! People worshipp time, feelings, etc. to me by listening to my music! So my power increase. I know that! Now I can do mostly

what I want to do... I can not cast lightning from my hands or sutch feary stuff. But acts to make people cry without

reason, make girls fall in love, or to sense others powers and feelings. Things like that. I think you have some cunning plans not

only beauty. You will never get my soul. I collect souls myself. I'm not to be collected. I have no love or good feelings.

I exist purely to get power. Power that will give me a place in the dark land where shadows lie. Where I will serve the dark lord.

Spread my lidless eye.

your "tempting" words...

PS I'll gladly have more pics.

Count Grishnackh.

Pd: he said "plz sand bobs and vagene" in Norsk

[thepagansun]

Respect Neo-Pagans and Our Gods!

Although they probably will never see it (or care), this post is meant for Hollywood, Netflix, Marvel and all other industries and streaming platforms that are hosting shows based on but twisting pagan or polytheist "mythology" or ancient religions such as Gods of Egypt, Immortals, Clash of the Titans, Thor: Love and Thunder, DT17, Supernatural, Kaos, Twilight of the Gods, Blood of Zeus, Percy Jackson, Xena: Warrior Princess, The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, Record of Ragnarok, American Gods, Lore Olympus, and God of War games, etc.

The trend of creating content that demonizes, humiliates, or insults our Gods is upsetting and unfair. Creative and artistic license is one thing, but it's a double-standard for content about the monotheistic god or religions to be treated with respect even when under academic criticism while are ours are depicted as one-dimensional, villainized and humiliated. We are asking for that same respect.

Yes, content about any kind of "mythology" is fun, but the modern world needs to please remember that these were and still are RELIGIONS to many people around the world, myself included.

People worshipped these Gods, listened to their stories around the fire, married under their vows, raised their children, went to war, and but also built magnificent structures, wrote literature, prayed in their temples, and many more!

In fact, we still have vestiges of their worship! The names of the months and days of the week in the Western world come from Roman or Norse/Germanic Gods, the Olympic Games were originally dedicated to Zeus, the Hippocratic Oath was originally a prayer offered to Apollo, people from all over the ancient world visited the shrine and oracle at Apollo's Delphi, and many more examples.

And while yes, sometimes people were sacrificed to some pagan Gods (not so much the Greeks or Romans), but are we really going to pretend that many more people haven't died in the name of Christianity or Islam??

Lord Zeus wasn't just some womanizer, he was also King of the Gods, Father of Gods and Humans, the God of Hospitality, Oaths, Lightning, Law, Order, Authority, Monarchy, etc.

This was also Lord Zeus of the ancient Greeks:

This was also Lord Odin of the ancient Norse:

This was also Lady Hera of the ancient Greeks:

This was also Lord Ra of the ancient Egyptians:

This was also Lord Huracan of the ancient Maya:

Even if you personally don't worship these Gods, at least respect the fact that your ancestors did. Imagine if 100-200 years from now your descendants start making movies and shows that demonize or humiliate Yahweh, Jesus, Allah and Mohammed, etc.!

In fact, neo-paganism is the fastest growing religion in the United States: https://commonwealthpolicycenter.org/paganism-is-americas-fastest-growing-religion/#:~:text=Paganism%20is%20one%20of%20the,a%20broader%20form%20of%20paganism.

Members of Ásatrù, heathen religion of Iceland, honoring the Norse Gods:

Members of Hellenism, honoring the ancient Greek Gods:

Members of my religion, Nova Roma, honoring the ancient Roman Gods:

Traditional African religion:

Traditional Maya religion:

Members of Wicca at Stonehenge, the biggest Neo-Pagan religion in the world with 3-5 million practioners worldwide!

Our Gods are our RELIGION, not just your "mythology!" And both They and we, their followers, deserve the same respect you expect for your religions.

And they at least would never condemn you to an eternal fiery pit simply for not believing in them, unlike some other god I could mention.

They are here. We are here. They exist. We exist. And we are not going anywhere.

[thenweatefivesoups]

Dog Man Misconceptions: A Starter Pack

Grampa is not the cause of Petey's flat tail. This would have had to have been Petey's own fault, because Grampa tried to tell the story to Li'l Petey in an attempt to embarrass Petey. I don't know about you, but a story about crushing/cutting/flattening your own son's tail is probably going to get you under hot water, not your son.

Plus, Petey kept cutting him off, implying that he doesn't want to hear the story again.

Both Petey and Li'l Petey can understand Dog Man's barking. Li'l Petey translates his barking twice, in Grime and Punishment and Mothering Heights respectively; since he's a clone of Petey, Petey should be able to, too.

That being said, Dog Man would likely use sign language for his other friends (Sarah, Chief, etc.); he just wouldn't have to with other cats.

Petey probably doesn't have the cloning machine as of book 11, or any of his inventions by that matter, since they all would have been buried under the rubble of his now-former house.

Molly never took Lightning Dude's place, she was just filling in his role during Dog Man 11 while he was occupied and couldn't do it. Then when they rebranded the Supa Buddies, they added Molly as a fourth member.

Despite his maturity level, Petey is probably among the youngest of the cast. Assuming Grace and Grampa didn't have a shotgun wedding (or anything similar), everyone who appeared in the Big Jim Begins flashbacks is older than Petey. This includes Chief, Big Jim, Genie/Nurse Lady, all the jail cats, and Dog Man himself (or at least his top half).

There are no anthropomorphic dogs. Greg, Zuzu, and the seven jail dogs from Brawl of the Wild are all regular dogs, and since we haven't seen "normal" versions of cats, pigs, frogs, etc, it's safe to say that all the dogs are "normal" too.

Fish are a gray area though; Flippy was a regular fish that was given enhanced intelligence, but the sealife in Fish Jail could talk from the beginning. That's interesting...

Big Jim was not part of the Critter Scouts rebellion in Lord of the Fleas, since that purple cat is way older than he would have been at the time.

The eponymous character's name is Dog Man (two words), not Dogman. It's never been spelled Dogman.

Similarly, the little kitten has an apostrophe in his name. It's officially Li'l Petey. Not Lil Petey. Not Little Petey. And definitely not L'il Petey. But unlike Dog Man, some official stuff has spelled it without the apostrophe for some reason.

Let me know if there's any more!

[aliciavance4228]

I've came across this Typhon×Echidna VS. Zeus×Hera comparison many times. Basically, people are talking about how the monstrosity who tried to overthrow Zeus and scared the shit out of all Olympians has a more stable, unproblematic relationship with Echidna than Zeus has with Hera, and that he would never cheat on her. Which is an unnecessary over exaggeration.

There's one version of the myth of Typhon (specifically in the one where he's Gaia's son, not Hera's) where he starts telling Zeus about all he's gonna do after he'll overthrow him. Here are some of the lovely things listed by him:

I will keep the chains of Iapetos (Iapetus) for Poseidon; and the soaring round Kaukasos (Caucasus), another and better eagle shall tear the bleeding liver, growing for ever anew, of Hephaistos the fiery: since fire was the for which Prometheus has been suffering the ravages of his self-growing liver. I will take a shape the counterpart of the sons [the Aloadai giants] of Iphimedeia, and I will shut up the intriguing son of Maia [Hermes] in a brazen jar, prisoned with galling bonds, that people may say, "Hermes freed Ares from prison, and he was put in prison himself!" Let Artemis break the untouched seal of her maidenhood, and become enforced consort of [the giant] Orion; Leto shall spread her old bedding for [the giant] Tityos, dragged to wedlock by force. I will strip murderous Ares of his ragged bucklers, I will bind the lord of battle, and carry him off, and make the Killer the Gentle; I will carry off Pallas [Athena] and join her to [the giant] Ephialtes, married at last; that I may see Ares a slave, and Athena a mother. ‘Kronion [Zeus] also shall lift the spinning heavens of Atlas, and bear the load on weary shoulders--there shall he stand, and hear the song at my wedding, and hide his jealousy when I shall be Hera's bridegroom. Torches shall not lack at my wedding. Bright lightning shall come of itself to be selfmade torch of the bride-chamber; Phaethon [Helios the Sun] himself instead of pine-brands, kindled at the light of his own flames, shall put his radiance at the service of Typhoeus the Bridegroom; the stars shall sprinkle their bridal sparks over Olympos as lamps to my loves, the stars lights of evening! My servant Selene (the Moon), Endymion's bed-fellow, along with Aphrodite the friend of marriage, shall lay my bed; and if I want a bath, I will bathe in the waters of starry Eridanos.

Chaining up Poseidon with the same chains that Iapetus is bound by (this one is justified, but still horrible).

Sending a bigger, stronger eagle to peck out Hephaestus' liver to avenge Prometheus (again; justified but still horrible).

Trapping Hermes in a jar forever.

Enslaving Ares, Selene, Aphrodite and Apollo (Selene and Aphrodite would've been his sex slaves).

Forcibly marrying off Artemis, Leto and Athena and letting their husbands rape them.

Forcing Hera to marry him (Typhon) specifically.

Etc.

And yet people are really going to claim that Typhon is faithful to Echidna just so that they could make the relationship between Zeus and Hera seem more problematic than it already was. Speaking about "problematic", both Typhon and his offspring could definitely be described like that. The reason why not all of them are terrible monsters is because the gods realized that the best decision is to make good use of them instead of letting them free.

[ghostofashina]

The dilemma with the source of golden lightning and how it can bring a hidden face of the Golden Prince.

I keep thinking about Godwyn's lightning. And something didn't sit right with me. And the more I dug into it, the more of a... revelation I had of Godwyn.

Except for Fortissax wielding "Death Lightning", I don't recall any ancient dragon with actual golden lightning. Yet, not only godwyn's lightning was described as golden, but every dragon cult incantation is golden.

According to Death Lightning:

It is said that this golden lightning was wielded by Godwyn, who befriended Fortissax.

But Vyke's dragonbolt ain't golden. And as Godwyn, he is said to be loved by a dragon. Not only that, but after we befriend Florissax, she gives us her own dragonbolt blessing, and it's not golden. The only golden dragonbolt we find, is near Godwyn's memorial, in a church with Radagon's statue (which, I have to say, I find very... odd.)

And then, we have the Gravel Stone Seal (and I believe it belonged to Godwyn at some point), which is even more odd, because it says:

The worship of the ancient dragons does not conflict with belief in the Erdtree. After all, this seal, and lightning itself, are both imbued with gold.

Except this is straight up a lie. Only Godwyn had golden lightning and, therefore, his soldiers, etc.

But there's others sources of golden lightning. And I want to mention one kind that seems to come from Godwyn himself.

The flower. We have 2 types of lightning flowers. One of them you find all over the place in the base game, called Fulgurbloom. And other kind that only grows in Lands of Shadow, called Yellow Fulgurbloom. Now this is really interesting:

Fulgurblooms are found in many places, including Farum Azula, and can be used to craft an ordinary llightning grease. However, Yellow Fulgurblooms ONLY spawn inside Godwyn's catacombs and is used to craft the dragonbolt grease, a favorite tool of Godwyn's soldiers, an item that does not exist outside the DLC.

I always thought that Fulgurblooms were responsible for the eletric goats we find everywhere, and I still think it's the case. And that this a natural item of this world. Which I don't think it's the case of the Yellow Fulgurbloom. Blossoms in the realm of shadow's underground gravesites and places struck by lightning. Imbued with yellow lightning's essence: which means, in the presence of Godwyn. Yes, resembles Miquella's lily. Or even the butterflies. Because we also have the Red Fulgurbloom and it's said "to bloom where the red lightning of the ancient dragons strikes the earth". It grows where the lightning hits. So I guess that, besides the divided corpses of the Prince of Death, these flowers can help us confirm Godwyn was there at some point.

But, once again, where does the golden lightning come from? And this is where things start to make me dizzy. Because we have a known source of golden lightning: storms. At the base game, we have storms aspects linked to a Lord that Godfrey defeated.

Then, going back to DLC, all storms aspects come from the Hornsent. The Divine Beast Warriors wield aspects of storms, such as wind, ice and lightning: golden lightning, very similar to the dragon cult incantations. They even have a golden lightning spear. Not only that, but the Divine Beast Dancing Lion also have golden lightning and one of them is actually infected with Deathblight, for whatever reason. And the Divine Beast has the exact lightning of the Death Lightning, without the corruption of deathblight.

I don't have any big conclusion so far, but the more I look into it, the less I think Godwyn's lightning had the dragons as source. Don't get me wrong: it started with the dragons, of course it did, but I guess its roots are far more deep inside a genocide of a culture: part of a genocide is also appropiation of a culture being stolen. And that, perhaps, Godwyn himself had a part on it.

Messmer had an entire storehouse with dozens of specimens. That was not made to preserve the Hornsent culture in any good means, it was a source of study and experiment. And now I start to think he wasn't alone in this quest.

[hwasoup]

Tale As Old As Time

Playlist to read along with !!

songs used for inspo: No Matter What (reprise), Wolf Chase, etc...

art credit goes to Marbipa

ooh lord, my back hurts from so much from all the typing I swear once I start writing I don't stop until it's done, any whoop I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!! Try guessing who our new characters are, they'll be introduced soon!!

like always let me know if you’d like to be tagged !

prev | ch.3>>

warnings: enchanted items, fear, slight harassment, slight misogyny

word count: 2.5K

Chapter 2: The Castle

A week after departing from the village….

Mauricio happily hums a tune to himself as he directs Felipe where to go. “Ahh Felipe, can’t you taste it?? First place at the contest, I mean this contraption is very nifty, I’m sure I'll win a prize” He holds onto the reins a bit tighter as he looks around the dark woods. “Well…isn’t this lovely…if only I could recognize which woods I'm in” he says. After a while he reaches a fork in the road. He didn’t know whether to go left or to go right “well…this...is…something” he thinks for a while and looks in both directions “well then Felipe, let's go left, shall we? Let's try to get somewhere before-” Thunder rumbles in the distance..."before the storm hits.” he says while directing the horse to go on the path.

After a while the woods slowly became more spiritless, the trees started looking more shriveled, and the vegetation slowly started disappearing. The wind has picked up a bit and the thunder rumbled louder than before. Mauricio looks around a bit more and says “well where did you take us Felipe? This can’t be right?” he says blaming his decision on the poor horse. Then Howling is heard in the distance. Felipe backed up a bit looking around anxiously as he nickered some more “We should turn back around” Mauricio says.

Suddenly out of the blue he sees a wolf behind him and immediately yells “GO FELIPE GO” The Horse neighs loudly and starts galloping, Rain has started falling and lightning crackles in the sky. Mauricio didn’t even bother to look behind him as he could hear the pattering of feet and snarls behind him. He was being chased by a pack of wolves. The path in the woods slowly started disappearing and the trees became larger and thicker, the rainfall seemingly to become harder and stronger. The roots protruded in the path as the pair ran away. A branch that was in the way makes Felipe trip and fall, the wagon unlatching itself to the horse as it runs. Mauricio fell down and looked at his wagon, all of his supplies scattered, and his dear invention destroyed, but there was no time to think about that. 

He then heard a deep growl behind him and saw the wolf, he got up and ran as fast as his feet could take him and ran to the edge of a small cliff. He looked down and saw the rest of the wolves snarling at him, ready for him to jump so they could pounce at him. He sees Felipe in the distance and yells “FELIPE POR ACA, VENGA!” The horse whinnies and runs towards him, allowing Mauricio to jump and perfectly land on the horse’s back. He looks behind as he sees the pack chase him and his grip tightens on the horse’s reins. He turns back around to see a gate. “TO THE GATE FELIPE” he cries out. The horse runs as fast as its hooves can take him and the gates open allowing the pair to quickly escape and immediately closes as soon as they enter, leaving the hungry pack of wolves barking and snarling outside.

Felipe gallops until it becomes a trot as he could see a stable where he could stay. Mauricio wipes his face in relief and then gets off the horse and brings him to the stable “well let’s get you settled, at least you have some food and water…now, let me go up and uhm…” He looks up at the grandeur castle that is before him. “Greet our host...” he says in awe of the castle. As he walks up the stairs to the entrance, he wonders why can’t seem to remember this place existing or even why there was a castle here in the first place. His thoughts are replaced by the thunder booming as he needs to get inside to stay dry from the storm. 

Mauricio then arrives at the door and looks around, he can see all the lamps lit up, but nobody outside. He knocks on the door and the door creaks and opens. “Thank you, Thank-” he looks next to him and sees nobody by the door. He looks behind him as he sees the door closing on its own. Confused, he slowly walks inside the castle, he sees beside him a fireplace with a lovely chair. “Hello?” He walks a bit more and looks up and sees the intricate designs of the castle “I’m just a traveler…seeking shelter from the storm.” he says, a bit defeated. His words echo in the seemingly empty castle “Perdon por molestar…anyone home?” he says as he takes off his coat and hangs it on the coat rack. The coat rack then discreetly looks behind him and shakes off some of the water off the coat to release some weight. However, in a corner at a small table a clock and candelabra stare at Mauricio. “Damn...he must have gotten lost in the woods…” The clock smacks him quickly “shut up you idiot” she whispers.

Mauricio then turns around confused, making the two stop moving. “Excuse me?”

He then slowly walks towards the table and looks at the clock. “Oh how beautiful…” He then peeks at the candelabra and picks it up “oh how extraordinary.” Music from a piano starts playing, which makes Mauricio turn around and gently place the candelabra back down on the table. Mauricio then fixes himself and walks towards the music.

“Ooh he got some taste.” 

“Relax, he was talking about me.”

Mauricio then approaches the room where the piano was and sees it playing on its own. “Oop-” the piano says as it stops playing. Mauricio looks at the piano in awe and confusion and stutters a bit over his words. He turns back around to where he originally was and goes to approach the chair by the fireplace. “Well now, wherever you are…I’m just going to sit down and warm myself by the fire. 

In the distance there was some clattering which caught Mauricio’s ear. He quickly walks towards the noise as well to find himself in a dining room that had food by a chair. “Oh, muchas gracias…I couldn’t thank you enough.” he immediately sits down and starts eating, savoring the foods and flavors in his mouth. Then as he ate, he saw a cup on a small plate slowly approach him and he looked at it in utter awe, shock, and fear. “Daddy says I wasn’t supposed to move because it's scary…..sorry” says the cup in a little girl’s voice.

Mauricio’s eyes bulged out in shock as he quickly replied “its…it's alright…” 

He then bolted out of his seat, walking as quickly as he could to the entrance “I…uh. Cannot humbly thank you for…for your hospitality” he says while taking his coat and putting it back on. “But uh it seems to me that I…uh well. Bid you...adieu…” he says with a bow while opening the door. “And uhh…good night.” He slams the door walking as fast as he could, not knowing that someone was watching the whole time. Outside, the storm has stopped, and Mauricio quickly goes to Felipe and mounts him. With a quick thwip from the reins, Felipe galloped into the gardens. “No wait, stop, stop, stop.” The horse stops and Mauricio gets off “Roses…I nearly forgot...” He approaches the rose garden and notices that they were all white, “I promised mi niñita a rose...” Mauricio walks into the garden scoping a perfect rose for Y/N unaware of the owner lurking…watching him as he walks in the rose garden. The host quietly moves from one place to another as he sees Mauricio get closer to a rose. The horse starts nickering and whinnying in anxiousness, hoping that his owner would see his warning.

Mauricio then takes a look at one rose and smiles thinking about Y/N and brings his hands up to pluck the rose, but instead pricks his thumb with a thorn. The host growls as he sees Mauricio reach in again trying to pick out the rose. Finally, Mauricio with a smile plucks the rose for Y/N but instead hears a loud thud and a roar to see the figure in front of him. Scaring him nearly half dead and making him fall on his back. He whimpers in shock and tries to back up in utter fear “HOW DARE YOU STEAL FROM ME, I GIVE YOU SHELTER AND THIS IS WHAT I GET ?!”

Mauricio pleads to the monster in front of him. “N-no p-please, it was only a g-gift for my d-dau-daughter” he says while staring at him. “WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT?” Mauricio stutters some more. “OH, I SEE...WE’VE COME TO STARE AT THE BEAST, HAVE WE?” Mauricio looks at him and stammers some more “n-no I didn't mean to offend. I-” A low emanating growl comes from the beast as he approaches him “CALLATE, YOU’VE DONE PLENTY…NOW YOU’RE COMING WITH ME” He takes Mauricio and drags him back inside the castle. Felipe whinnies and bucks his hind legs as he tries to get the reins off of him, eventually succeeding and running off back to the village.

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

A few days later…

Ben is looking through a bush where some of the leaves have started goldening and falling off, while staring at y/n’s house. “...y/n is sure to get the shock of her life...” Ben nods at Eddie and looks at himself at the puddle next to him. “Oh yes Eddie, this is definitely her lucky day!” He looks away from the bush and turns around to see everything perfectly set up. He then clears his throat to catch everyone’s attention “I would like to thank all of you for coming to my wedding, your contributions are greatly appreciated…but now I gotta go in there and well” he clears out his throat once more “propose to the girl” he says with a chuckle. The guests chuckle and laugh as well unlike the 3 women in the corner who are weeping.

“Now you Eddie, have the most important job, when I come out the door with y/n...” 

“Yea I know, I’ll strike up the band” he says a bit disinterested. As he looks at the band and makes them quickly rehearse the wedding march. 

Back in y/n’s home however, she’s sitting on a chair happily reading her book until she hears a knock on her door. She approaches it and using her father’s invention to see outside, she notices it's Ben and she groans loudly to herself. “Ok…you can do this” she says to herself in a whisper as she opens the door. “Oh, why Ben... que sorpresa...” she says with a feigned voice of interest. 

“Why isn’t it, I'm always full of surprises,” Ben added. “You know y/n there isn’t a single woman in town who would be aching to be you right now.” Y/N backs up a bit “Oh uh…pero como?” Ben chuckles “Well, this is the day your dreams come true my dear...” he saunters his way more to get closer to her. “What do you know about my dreams, Ben?” He chuckled once more “Oh plenty, now here picture this.” He sits down on a chair and places his muddied shoes on the table. “A rustic hunting lodge, my latest kill...roasting on the fire, while my pretty little wife massages my aching feet, while the little ones play on the floor with the dogs” he says while looking at her with a smoldering look. “We’ll have six or seven...”

Y/N grimaces at his words and thinks at how unbelievably daring this man is right now. “Perros?” she asks with a pained smile. “No Y/N, strong boys like me!” Y/N rolls her eyes “you...don't say...” she says now looking for some sort of exit from this situation. “Now Y/N, who do you think that little wife will be?” Y/N’s eyes widen in horror and says “erm... Uhh.. let me think…” Ben interrupts her with a grin “Why, YOU Y/N.” Y/N turns away from him quickly and backs up to the door. “Ay pero, Ben I- I’m speechless..I.. well really don’t know what to say” she says as Ben approaches her with a determined look. 

Then, by using both of his arms, Ben pins her to the door with a winning smirk “say you’ll marry me then” he says as he leans in closer to Y/N. “Perdon Ben pero…I’m uh..I just...” Ben has leaned in close enough to kiss her. In a quick attempt, Y/N uses her hand to find the door handle and opens it, quickly moving out of the way, making Ben surprised and fall into a puddle of mud. 

Eddie on the other hand only hears the door open and signals for the band to start playing. He then directs the band for a bit and then hears something moving. He turns around to see Ben completely covered in mud “soo uh…Imma take that as a no...” Ben, enraged, looks into Eddie’s eyes and mutters to him “I WILL have Y/N as my wife, make no mistake about that” he states, as he begrudgingly walks away in embarrassment from the rejection, he just took in front of his wedding guests. 

After the commotion dies down, Y/N peeks out of her front door and looks around “Is he gone ??” She looks down to confirm that Ben is gone and walks outside to feed her chickens “I can’t believe him, ME? To be the wife of that headstrong, boorish, conceited man.” She grabs the chicken feed and throws it everywhere in annoyance “imagínate, señorita riley, just imagine, his little wife.” She throws the bucket of chicken feed to the ground. “I need some place to scream.” 

A few minutes later she ran on top of a hill and layed in the field of dandelions. “My dreams? What does he know about my dreams… I want adventure, I want it so much that I can’t imagine someone else imagining it.” She quietly lays in the grass for a while longer and plucks a dandelion and blows it, watching the seeds spread in the wind. “I want so much more than this tiny village,” she says to herself. “If only someone could understand...” She sighs and closes her eyes, taking in the air from her surroundings. She inhales once again but then stops as she hears whinnying in the distance. She turns around and gets up as she spots Felipe in the distance. 

“Felipe, I- what's wrong?” She looks around to see that there was no wagon and especially her father. “Dónde está papá ?” she says as she tries to calm down the horse. "Where is he Felipe, what happened?!”. 

She took hold of his reins and frantically responded “Please, we must go find him, Take me to him !!” She takes Felipe back home quickly to grab her cloak and to replace the horse’s broken reins. Once she does, she mounts Felipe and takes control as she rides out to the woods to find her father.

taglist: @cupcakeinat0r , @miguelhugger2099, @mcmiracles, @xxsugarbonesxx,@codenameredkrystalmatrix,@deputy-videogamer,@lxverrings,@miguelzslvtz,@itsameclinicaldepression,,@ricekrisbris,@loser-alert , @thedevax, @uncle-eggy, @corpsebridenightamare, @m4dyy,

[felassan]

"also, on the broadest line around the edge, you can see those symbols again. I’m thinking now that these 6 symbols represent the 6 factions we can choose from for Rook to belong to."

not only that, but the factions of 6 out of our 7 companions, Harding/the Inquisition aside. from some of the things they've said lately (tho at the moment I can't remember specifically where), it sounds like we will encounter each faction in the game too and that they each play a role in the story. in the center is the Veilguard logo itself; it's like representatives from these 6 factions came together to form Voltron The Veilguard. :> about the symbols btw:

The Warden symbol is closer style-wise to this new seemingly updated or northern Warden[?] symbol than it is to previous game/southern Warden[?] symbology (two). shape of the wing, stylization etc. it being 'half' like that gives it the impression of a shield/heraldic beasts.

The Veil Jumper symbol looks to be a halla. it makes me nostalgic for Clan Sabrae heraldry :') makes sense for a faction based in Arlathan and interested in ancient elvhen ruins.

The Shadow Dragons (Tevene faction) have a snake. dragons are all around in Tevinter imagery, a country where they are a symbol of divine power. Another kind of 'worm'/wyrm also kicks around in Tevinter iconography; snakes. in the Imperium heraldry, a serpentine dragon faces off against a snake (opposition..). (side ramble - As a group the Shadow Dragons are a resistance group, they oppose slavery, corrupt rulers and the worst aspects of Tevinter society. Their name makes them seem like 'a different kind of dragon' - an alternative way for the 'dragon' Tevinter is to be, a different future it could have. a different kind of dragon than the dominant ruling one, but one that is currently still overshadowed. it also carries the implication of them working in the shadows and carrying out operations under the radar - this is contrast to the Lucerni, a faction in the Magisterium whose goal is to redeem and restore Tevinter. They're more like a political party, they operate more in public. "lucerna" is Latin for lantern. light, and shadow. Maybe the Shadow Dragons are basically the stealthy/secret operational arm of the Lucerni? like a left and right hand. end side ramble) Snakes crop up in Neve's design (her leg, her hat). I keep thinking about the snake in the Imperium heraldry. with their symbol, it's like the Shadow Dragons are saying they're fighting for a Tevinter.. without the 'dragon' part. in which.. the dragon is a metaphor for the bad stuff? corruption etc? Snakes also carry the symbolism of stealth and slyness, which again fits with the 'shadow' stuff. Would a dragon be able to see a lowly snake coming...? probably not :> I also can't help but think of the imagery of snakes that's to do with healing and medicine. like they wanna de-corrupt Tevinter, heal it of its rot. ALSO. the other thing thing is The Viper from Minrathous Shadows. well, look at that. The Shadow Dragons' symbol is a snake. "We are the Tevinter you forgot". And what do they want? "Everything". maybe The Viper is the founder of the Shadow Dragons? the story mentions they have a contact, a lady who is lightning-smart (Neve?). in the accompanying art-piece, the dealer's silhouette and other aspects of their design are snake-like, recalling Neve and what seems to be 'Shadow Dragon Rook's clothes.

The Lords of Fortune have a cephalopod. (it reminds me of House Greyjoy). makes sense for a faction with ships, dominion over the coasts of Rivain, a pirate-y aesthetic and originating from a nation almost entirely surrounded by sea. maybe this explains the cephalopod that was portrayed 'on' Rivain in the trailer from a few months ago? like maybe it was supposed to represent the Lords of Fortune, their presence in Rivain, and their storyline.

The Mourn Watcher one is just so cool. it's at once both a humanoid skull (you can see the two eyes and the teeth), recalling the symbol for the broader Mortalitasi itself, and a beetle. it makes me think of stuff like scarab beetles and deathwatch beetles, both of which have lots of cool symbolism/lore and cultural meanings irl on stuff like life and death, the cycle, decomposition etc. beetles are also culturally important in Nevarra, where they are prized. lots of households keep them in cages for good luck, and encrusted beetle wings are part of Nevarran decor.

The Crow one is obviously like looking down at a corvid in flight. its head is the top triangular part, but this shape is also known to be worn by Crows as a mask/disguise, and from that perspective the pointy part at the bottom gives the wearer a beaked appearance, masquerade-ball style. the Crows are always watching :>

[teecupangel]

Okay, okay, my brain did the thinking. I just skimmed over the ATLA ask and it got me thinking, how about like an actual ATLA AU?

Like in, ofc following Desmond (precious boy) and him bending water (and ice (and maaaayybee later blood?))

He grows up in the northern Water tribe, learns grows up etc. is still fed up with William, but can't really leave this godforsaken huge piece of ice swimming in the ocean, until at least the raid with the fire nation (and aang). Maybe he can convince him to just take Desmond with him (he doesn't really want to journey with them, he just wants to go somewhere else).

One way or another, he either finds himself in the earth kingdom, and meeting Connor(earth) and/or Ezio (dunno what kind of element he would be) or through some unlucky coincidence finds himself on fire nation territory. Here he could stumble upon Hama and maybe somehow convinces her to teach him some blood bending. Some time later he would stumble upon Altaïr, literally, because he runs from guards for stealing something and Altaïr just pulls him into the next best alcove so the guards won't catch Desmond.

Somewhere down the line they befriend each other, while Desmond is trying to find a way out of the fire nations territory (could be the reason for him to steal something and then the guards running after him) because being a waterbender there is kind of a death wish.

Long story short, Desmond finds a way, Altaïr sticks along and they meet Connor and/or Ezio again, at least Desmond meets them again and is ofc happy. I can absolutely see the rivalry between Ezio and Altaïr.

They all travel a bit and somehow meet the Aang-gang again. Desmond being like, what's up, while the others are like wtf, you know the Avatar? Yeah like, he helped me get out of this shithole called home.

Meeting Iroh for good measure.

Like all is fun and games, until they stumble upon a town or city who completely suffers under its ruler and commanders and they take it upon themselves to get rid of them (heh, there is no murder weapon if the ice melts).

And that kind of becomes their thing? Like, while the 'canon' plot from ATLA moves forward, they unintentionally help them and destabilize corrupt power (mostly inside the earth kingdom). Along the line they could also meet others like Clay, Lucy, Malik etc. who won't travel with them, but still join their cause (or some could join, I imagine Malik, who already wishes to slam his head against a wall after only one day with them)

And bam, brotherhood in ATLA, or something

If we stretch it towards Korras time, we could use the assassins from the newer generations like Basim, Eivor, Kassandra, Arno etc. who are the successors.

Okay, this got quite long, but I still have some thoughts:

- William could be like the head of the guard for the mother's Water tribe and as such pushes Desmond further and further (but Desmond knows he won't be happy just staring at Ice for the rest of his life)

- Some of the others out of the modern era could grow up alongside Desmond, maybe Lucy or Clay

- I would have really loved to give Ezio Air, but like... That won't be really possible. I can absolutely see him using his bending to let his hair be moved by a breeze, whenever he tries to flirt

- so Ezio would come from a kind of rich family (I don't really have more, I'm sorry)

- With Connor I actually don't really know, like he could live with his mother or tribe in the woods (kind of like Jet's crew?)

- Altaïr would probably be that kind of braindead genius, who saw Azulas Lightning bending one time (his grandfather, Rashid, dragged him to one of these highly important events, when the princess visited) and decided to learn it on his own (Malik is just kind of horrified, bc this Idiot simultaneously thinks and doesn't think enough)

- Rashid would definitely stand completely behind Fire lord Ozais visions

- and ofc AltDes, bc I'm a sucker and shameless :P

Anyway, it's good to hear you are doing well, many hugs and kisses

Have a great one and take care!

I’m unsure which ATLA idea you mean but here’s the Avatar AU ask that has both “what if Desmond and his ancestors were the next line of Avatars?” and “Okay, but what if, they were like… Pro-bending pros?” and the Pro-Bending AU idea expanded.

If you want to fuck with Desmond, you can make it seem like he’s a non-Bender. To be more exact, no matter how grueling the training becomes, Desmond could never bend water even to make ripples in a tea cup.

But Bill still persisted and kept on training Desmond until Aang came along and, in the confusion, Desmond manages to escape.

The truth is Bill was trying to force Desmond to learn how to waterbend because Desmond instinctively uses Blood Bending.

To be more exact, he doesn’t realize that people become weaker or slower when they fight him because Desmond is actually instinctively blood bending.

Bill realized this when Desmond was a child and had killed a beast that attacked him with blood bending. Desmond has no memories of such a thing, remembering it as his father actually using spear made of condensed water to pierce the beast.

But the beast exploded, not because of the water spear, but because Desmond had boiled the blood inside to the point that an internal explosion occurred.

So Desmond starts traveling, thinking that he’s a non-bender and he met Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton along the way, just, you know, helping out people and doing jobs here and there to have enough money for their travel expenses.

Ratonhnhaké:ton left his village to understand the world outside as part of his training to be the next chief of their village. Her mother is the current chief and they’re hidden from the rest of the kingdom. This travel is meant to give him an idea of how to protect their village and to ‘survey’ the outside world and the danger it possesses.

Ezio is actually looking for his family and he’s a member of the Southern Water Tribe. During an attack from the Fire Nation, he was separated from his family and he’s traveling to find them. He tries his best to believe that they’re safe and sound but, sometimes, he does worry…

Altaïr though…

Altaïr is on the run because he defied orders and got into Azula’s bad side. He was meant to be just a rank and file soldier under Azula (with Rashid ordering him to climb up the ranks) but his arrogance brought unnecessary conflict between him and Azula.

Azula tried to put him in his place by dueling with him, only to learn that he copied her lightning bending after only seeing it once.

The worst part is that he showed that he copied it after Azula tried to hit him with her lightning bending during the duel itself.

In her rage, she tried to attack him hard enough to cripple him (and if she wasn’t careful, kill him). Altaïr answered in kind and he was arrested for the ‘attempted assassination’ of Azula.

He escaped his confinement with a little help from another rank and file soldier, Malik, who suggested that he hides in the Earth Kingdom.

He meets Desmond and the others while they were hunting down a band of bandits who had terrorizing the road and they actually fought because they thought Altaïr was a bandit and not… the dude who took out the bandits because they tried to rob him.

He joins them because he had nothing else to do. (Ezio absolutely noticed that Altaïr was attracted to Desmond but doesn’t seem to realize it and he plans to enjoy the ‘romance’ between these two dense idiots. Ratonhnhaké:ton will not be enjoying any show but he will also not help because he believes romantic relationship should only be nurtured by the people involved and “no, Ezio, we are not involved in this”)

And then we have the great misunderstanding where Desmond and Altaïr look similar enough that wanted posters distributed by the Fire Nation included a drawing that can look like either of them.

So Desmond assumed he’s being hunted because he did kill a few Fire Nation soldiers when he ran away during all the confusion and he was pretty sure one of them was a high ranking official.

Altaïr knows this is Azula hunting him down because he tried to ‘assassinate’ her.

And they would talk about it in ways that made everyone believe that they’re the target (aka: Desmond believes Altaïr knows that Desmond is a wanted man, Altaïr believes Desmond knows that Altaïr is a wanted man, Ratonhnhaké:ton and Ezio both think that it could be either of them and assumed both Altaïr and Desmond are on the same page)

(It would absolutely be funny if the twist is that the wanted man is actually Elijah, Desmond’s younger half-brother, who did (1) destroy multiple Fire Nation ships and (2) killed enough high ranking Fire Nation officials to be counted as a dangerous ‘terrorist’. Desmond would be like “Elijah? No. He’s a sweet boy. He’d never hurt a fly.”. Cue Elijah using water bending to waterboard a Fire Nation official. Elijah shares the same mother with Desmond who is actually a blood bender. Elijah himself doesn’t bloodbend but he, their mother and Bill are the only ones who know that Desmond instinctively bloodbends. Shaun and Rebecca are his ‘handlers’ which doesn’t really say much because they can’t stop Elijah at all. They’re actually looking for Desmond because Desmond is the only person who can stop Elijah without even realizing how bloodthirsty his younger brother is.)

thank you! things had been a bit hectic at work and I'm really hoping that I'd be compensated for it hahahaha

[simons-missus]

Husband Simon Comforts You During A Thunderstorm.

There is no specific gender mentioned in this story. There aren't really any trigger warnings besides thunderstorms. This fanfic is for @drinkwaterbastards

This story is not proofread!

Word count: 2.1k

It was spring out in Manchester, England. The amount of rain was unbelievable. Your husband, Simon “Ghost” Riley and you were sitting in your living room watching a movie. Until the gentle rain turned heavy, and a thunderstorm had formed.

Simon was in the kitchen grabbing you a soda when he heard the first thunder bolt. He quickly grabbed the soda and dashed into the living room. You were there, huddled on the couch in a blanket. Scared. 

You had been scared of thunderstorms since you were little. Grant you, it was normal for a child to be scared of thunder and lightning. But an adult? Pathetic. That's what you thought until you met your now, husband. He never commented on things that scared you. You were only scared of thunderstorms because when you were, what? 5?... 6? your house was struck by lightning. It fried everything plugged into an outlet. The TV, microwave, the lamps, etc. It didn't seem that scary, but to a child, it was straight out of a horror movie. Not to mention, they were loud. You were paranoid now, that it would happen again. 

Simon sat next to you, and he set the cold can on the coffee table. He pulled you into his side. Now, you love your husband from how sweet and how much of a gentleman he is. But good lord, is he huge. It's not that he's chubby, but his muscle mass is insane. (You secretly thanked the military). After he met you, he started to gain a little weight. He LOVES your cooking. Can't go a day without eating it. And when he's away on a mission, you pack him soup or some other thing that will last in a cooler. He doesn't care if it's cold, boiling hot, leftovers, or fresh, he'll eat it. But he's not crazy, if the food isn't any good he'll throw it out. But he'll be very upset that he didn't get to eat it before it went bad. 

He wrapped his arms around you with no problem. It doesn't matter if you're skinny, curvy, or if you have a few rolls on your stomach. He'll love you, no matter what. And he'll always be bigger than you. 

You clung to him and buried your face in his chest. He held you against him.”Shhh… It's alright, love. I'm here, don't worry.” He would whisper to you and tell you it was alright. He would give you your headphones and play soft music to calm your nerves. And eventually you would just fall asleep against him. Simon would pick you up with ease and carry you to your shared bedroom. He'd lay you down and snuggle up next to you, pulling you into his chest. 

“It's alright, Lovie. Tomorrow I'll go buy you ice cream.” Even if you were asleep, he still said those things as a promise to himself. If you were happy, he was happy.

This was my first time writing a fanfic, I hope it wasn't that crappy😭

[magnoliasandarson]

hoax

Tim was doing his absolute damnedest to project calmness, but he was losing his mind. Two feet away, munching on some cheesy fries, was the Red Hood—the prodigal son, the dead golden boy, his childhood hero, his Robin. The insane man who once beat him half to death, now the guy who occasionally dropped by the cave with a frankly worrying number of bullet holes. 

He’d been patrolling for an hour or so when he noticed the lack of gunshots, screams, explosions, etc., and tracked Hood to the gargoyle Dick took him to once when he was feeling sentimental. It was strange finding him without his signature explosive bucket on, with a bag of Batburger in his lap.

Tim didn’t know what to say, but he knew he needed to say something. Jason apologized for his actions weeks ago and explained that the pit had taken no dead Robins and turned it into all Robins must die, but there was still a weight between them. A clear line that said do not cross; luckily enough, Tim lived to cross those lines, “Takin’ a day off from murder and mayhem?”

Jason twisted his head to look over, his scowl somehow threatening, even with a fry hanging out of his mouth. He finished chewing, looking menacing the whole time, “Fucks it to ya, bird boy?”

Tim plopped down on the ledge; if Jason was going to shoot him, he would’ve already. He stared out at Gotham, at the empty streets and windows glowing with warmth and light. For once, the city was quiet, “Just making conversation, Hood.”

“What made you think I wanted to talk?” Jason’s tone was harsh, but it was about a five on the Jason-rage-meter, and Tim didn’t get fidgety till a seven. 

Tim kicked his feet out, idly drumming his fingers on the cement ledge, “Maybe I wanted to talk.” And in a weird way, it was true. This was Jason freakin’ Todd; the boy wonder that made Batman laugh. He oddly wanted to know everything. 

Jason sighed like he was accosted by young, costumed teens all the time, and, to be fair, he was. Stephanie had taken to showing up at his apartment at odd hours with waffles, and she had only been shot at twice, “Fine, traffic light. Whatcha wanna talk about.”

“Y’know, you wore the suit, too. ‘Least mine has pants.” Tim spoke, then immediately hunched away. Robin was a sore spot for Jason- Tim was stupid to bring it up. 

For some reason, Jason didn’t immediately pull a gun; he just cocked his head and laughed quietly. Tim straightened back up and tried to muster up a glare, but that just made Jason’s little laughs louder, “Ooh- baby bird’s got jokes,” he rolled his shoulders and offered a thing of fries from the bag, “want some fries, Tiny?”

Tim groaned; why did everyone make short jokes about him? He snatched the fries sharply in protest, “You were short too-”

“Yeah, then I took a dip in poison snot,” Jason cut him off, “Ya wanna do that too, short stack?”

Tim immediately jammed some fries in his mouth- he was incurably dumb. He’d managed to bring up Robin and the Lazarus Pit with Jason. He should hang up the cape, “You got any advice? As a former short king?” Honestly, he wished Jason would just shoot him now. There was something wrong with his brain on a fundamental level. He’d been hanging out with Bart and Kon way too much.

Jason tilted his head like he was buffering and inhaled deeply through his nose like he was trying to calm himself through sheer force of will, “Whatcha wanna know?”

Tim chewed his mouthful of potato slowly; he hadn’t thought this far ahead. What did he want to know from Jason? He could ask about crime-lording, but Jason would probably snitch to Dick, and then Bruce would lecture him for at least an hour. Oddly enough, there was only one safe topic he could ask about, and it would still likely result in him leaving with lead in his body that was not there before, “You got any, uhm, Robin-ly advice?” Lightning should strike him down.

Jason didn’t kill him, which was a plus; just lit up a cigarette and took a long drag, which was objectively hilarious, but Tim would die if he laughed, so he just ate another fry, “Robin was a different kid,” he blew out smoke rings like the cool guys in movies, and if Tim wasn’t acutely afraid of lung cancer, he’d be tempted to try, “Dickwing use’ta say, “Robin is magic, you have to be brave for the magic to work.” I used to believe that shit.”

“You don’t anymore?”

Another cool ring of cigarette smoke floated out through the sky, “I stopped believin’ when I dug my way outta my grave.”

Noted. Tim cleared his throat; this was not a conversation he was equipped for, “Oh.”

Jason snorted, “Yeah- oh,” he took another deep drag of his cigarette, making Tim’s chest twinge, “The thing is- Robin will make you believe you can be- make you think you can be a better person.”

“Then why aren’t you better?” The words left his mouth without Tim’s consent, and his whole body tensed to jump, his fingers finding his grapple gun at his waist. 

Jason gave a wry smile and stubbed his spent cigarette on the gargoyle to his right, “Because Robin isn’t magic.”