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imninahchan · 1 year ago

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⌜ 𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐒: friends to lovers, fwb, cockwarming, sexo sem proteção [ó chiquititas não façam noooooo], dirty talk, elogios e ‘eu te amo’, creampie. Espanhol — tranqui (tranquila/o), no me lastimes (não me machuque). ˚ ☽ ˚. ⋆ ⌝

꒰ 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑨𝑺 𝑫𝑨 𝑨𝑼𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑨 ꒱ en serio buenisimoooooo.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 O SOM DAS RISADAS SE MISTURAM ENQUANTO VOCÊ SE DESPEDE DOS SEUS AMIGOS ─────

Abraça um, Abraça outro. Falam sobre marcar mais um encontro, talvez na casa de fulano, e tals. Você concorda, vamos marcar, sim, mesmo sem saber se terá disposição para socializar quando o rolê sair do papel de fato.

— Tchau, amiga! — Francisco se aproxima com um sorriso enorme, os braços abertos. Você percebe, só pelo tom agudo, o nível de zoação que carrega, porque te envolve forte, e quando separa, deixa um beijinho numa bochecha, depois n’outra, e ameaça deixar um nos seus lábios, porém recua, rindo. — Ay, perdón, desequilibrei... — alega, cínico.

Você não segura o riso, por mais que quisesse ter repreendido. Nem se pergunta se algum dos seus amigos notou algo, vai na sorte mesmo, empurrando Romero pela porta até que possa se juntar aos outros no corredor. Depois de tanto sorrir, os cantos da boca até doloridos, você os vê descendo as escadas. Se apressa pra janela da sala, gritando e acenando novamente, mais uma sessão de despedidas e vozes embriagadas dizendo o quanto gostam de você, que Buenos Aires não seria legal sem ti, e blá blá blá de bêbado.

Os seus olhos partem dos seus amigos entrando no carro de aplicativo pra figura esguia de Francisco seguindo pela rua noturna. Quando não o avista mais, nem se preocupa, já conhece o trajeto que será feito — dar a volta no quarteirão e tocar o interfone do seu prédio mais uma vez.

Dito e feito. Não precisava ter atendido formalmente como faz, afinal não é surpresa quem está do outro lado da linha, mas não se arrepende de ter tirado o telefone do gancho, uma vez que o som da voz chiando uma canção antigaça te arranca boas risadas. Libera a entrada, e ao espiar pelo olho mágico, a imagem distorcida é mais cômica ainda quando ele chega com a boca bem pertinho da lente. Já tá aberta, palhaço, você resmunga, girando a maçaneta para recebê-lo outra vez.

— ¡Hola! Quanto tempo... — Ele adentra o apartamento cumprimentando, te envolvendo. Dá dois beijinhos em cada uma das suas bochechas. Não te libera depois, entretanto, prolonga o abraço, te aperta, os pezinhos de ambos cambaleando para fechar a porta novamente e avançar até o sofá da sala.

O seu corpo cai no estofado, por cima das diversas almofadas, e o peso do dele te faz rir, sabe que o rapaz está fazendo tudo para implicar, para conseguir te fazer gargalhar até a barriga doer. Ao finalmente conseguir arredá-lo pro canto, tem o pulso tomado pela mão alheia. A cabeça descansando sobre o seu ombro, todo mal posicionado, mas insistindo em estar emaranhado a ti feito um bichinho pedindo atenção.

— Vou poder dormir aqui, né? — ele quer saber, mas já com aquele entonação de pergunta retórica. Os olhos sobem pro seu rosto.

— Vou pensar — você responde, fingida também.

— Pensar?! Você me trouxe pra sua casa, me embebedou, me jogou pra fora e me chamou pra voltar só pra usar o meu corpinho... — começa a enumerar, argumentando com o indicador no ar — ...e, agora, quer me jogar na rua de novo?

— Você voltou porque quis...

Ele ergue a postura, te encarando boquiaberto, com drama. Dali, um sorriso se abre, é porque eu te amo, e vem se aproximando pra distribuir beijinhos pelo seu queixo.

Certo, vocês não são só amigos, porém se alguém questionar, é capaz de ambos não saberem exatamente o que responder.

Você conhece Fran porque ele é amigo de uma amiga sua, e quando menos percebeu já estavam ambos nas mesmas festinhas, tirando foto no espelho do banheiro de balada e se arrumando na casa um do outro pra poder sair. Talvez a tensão entre os dois tenha sido grande demais ao dançar coladinhos o som da canção de letra indecente, porque acabou se encontrando sentada no colo dele num pós-festa, passando mais gloss nos lábios só porque ele queria provar o saber através de um beijinho.

Mas é tudo silencioso demais. Os seus amigos não sabem, quem sabe desconfiam, só que ninguém diz nada, e muito menos vocês dois. Estão mais do que acostumados a fazer o que fizeram hoje — se ‘despedem’, ele dá uma volta no quarteirão só pra dar tempo de todo mundo ir embora, e aí volta pra ficar contigo. Já perdeu as contas das vezes em que ele dormiu aqui, tipo daquela vez em que fizeram a listening party de Motomami, quando o álbum saiu, e no outro dia ele acordou com o glitter da noite passada todo espalhado pelo rosto.

A presença dele te ilumina. A cada risada, você jura, é como se mil fadinhas nascessem, igual no filme da Tinker Bell. Vocês combinam tanto que é absurdo. O mesmo senso de humor, o mesmo gosto musical, às vezes se expressam da mesma forma no automático.

— Saaai! — você estende a pronúncia, empurrando-o com a primeira almofada que alcança. — Me ajuda a arrumar as coisas, anda. — Joga o corpo dele pro canto, se levantando.

Francisco cai no chão, teatral.

— Então, é pra isso que eu voltei? — parece sussurrar para si mesmo. — Pra ser empregada doméstica... A que ponto cheguei...

Mas vem atrás quando te vê partindo pra cozinha. Enquanto você lava as louças na pia, ele as seca com o pano de prato, tagarelando sobre algum acontecimento que se deu entre a família dele recentemente, ou sobre algum Tik Tok engraçado que viu e, com certeza, te mandou.

— Vou tomar banho — você avisa, e ele automaticamente escuta a frase como se fosse um convite.

A relação de vocês já está tão sólida que o rapaz tem uma pilha de coisas guardadas no seu armário, entre elas a tolha que pega agora para partir contigo pro chuveiro. Vê-lo tirar a roupa se tornou cotidiano, conhece cada pintinha no corpo masculino e os olhos são ágeis pra achar uma espinha aqui ou ali. Posso cortar seu cabelo amanhã, se você quiser, é o que oferece, afetuosa, ao correr os dedos pelos fios dele. E ele aceita, confia cem por cento.

Antes de entrar no box, porém, tem que colocar aquela playlist do banho pra tocar. As canções ecoam pelo celular sobre a pia, as faixas se somando no ambiente ao passo que vocês se alternam sob a água. Uma pausa ou outra pra cantar as letras com a embalagem de shampoo na mão, e logo já estão embalados na toalha.

Ele nem se dá ao trabalho de vestir algo mais do que a bermuda de algodão. Se esconde entre os seus cobertores, tapa a cabeça e tudo, esparramado pelo colchão. Você até tinha separado o conjuntinho de pijama que costuma vestir, mas aí lembra que provavelmente não vai dormir agora, e fica com preguiça de ter que tirar tudo. Pega uma blusa larga mesmo, se cobre só com isso.

Engatinha sobre a cama, procurando um espacinho pra se esconder sob o cobertor também.

— Vem, tá frio, uuuuh, que frio. — É dominada pelos braços do argentino. Rolam por cima da bagunça que se torna a cama, o rosto dele afundado na curva do seu pescoço enquanto murmura as gracinhas ao pé do seu ouvido. A temperatura está okay, é arriscado até que acordem suando, mas Romero os cobre totalmente. Os olhinhos arregalados te encaram sob o escurinho do cobertor. — Eu tô morrendo de frio, dá pra ver meus dentes batendo? — Exibe os dentes, engraçadinho, só pra te fazer rir. — O que você vai fazer sobre isso?

— Eu?

— É, você mesma.

— Não sei... — entra no joguinho dele. — O que você acha que eu devo fazer?

— O que eu acho?

— Uhum.

— Ah, deixa eu pensar... — Desvia o olhar, parando até o dedinho no canto da boca. — Tá tão frio hoje, eu preciso de alguém pra me esquentar... sabe... — Volta os olhos pra ti, a cara lavada é óbvia demais. — Dentro de você é tão quentinho...

Você sorri, feito boba. Tá, pode ser, autoriza. A diversão na face do argentino passa do doce, ao te acompanhar no princípio, para o lascivo quando te escuta permitir. Gracías, chiquita, ele responde de volta, te dando um beijo no cantinho da boca.

Te abraça por trás, e você não precisa nem espiar por cima dos ombros pra visualizar a destra masculina escorregando por baixo do endredom pra poder tocar a si próprio até estar pronto. O rosto de Fran mergulha entre o seu pescoço, arrasta o nariz pelo seu ombro, aspirando o perfume do sabonete usado no banho. Está sussurrando pertinho do seu ouvido, diz o quão cheirosa e bonitinha você está, agradece por não encontrar mais peça nenhuma no meio do caminho até as suas pernas. É reconfortante saber que as coisas que o excitam são os elogios que faz para ti.

Você mesma empina um pouquinho quando necessário, oferece um ângulo melhor ao jogar a bunda pra trás e separar os joelhos, de lado. Ganha outro beijo, dessa vez posicionado melhor na bochecha. Sente a cabecinha sendo esfregada pelo seu pontinho, deslizando pra cá e pra lá. E quando ele se encaixa, empurra devagarzinho, você morde o lábio, trocando um olhar com o argentino só pra poder vê-lo sorrindo ladino. Entra com cuidadinho, sem forçar muito porque não te deixou bem molhadinha primeiro.

— Agora sim... — Te aperta mais entre os braços, empurrando o quadril contra o seus, ao máximo, tudo, sempre parecendo querer ir mais fundo embora já esteja no limite. — Tão bom... — Chega a suspirar, de tamanha completude.

De fato, o somatório do calor natural do seu corpo junto da quentura do endredom formam um fervor delirante. Febril. Agora, vamo’ dormir, você deita a lateral do rosto sobre as costas das mãos, plena. Poderia estar externando também o prazer que sente; a sensação de fartura, a excitação por guardá-lo dentro de si, o jeito com que pisca ao redor do que te preenche, espremendo, fazendo o rapaz estremecer contigo, porém resolve manter a pose. Especialmente pois sabe que Francisco Romero não ostenta pose nenhuma quando se trata de ti.

Aqui, ele acata o seu comando. Pelo menos, a princípio. Não demora muito e ele quebra o personagem, feito já era de se esperar. Recua de dentro e joga de novo, ocupando mais uma vez. A boca se encarrega de beijar pelo seu pescoço, a voz arranhando próxima do seu ouvido, como um gatinho. Eu falei dormir, você reitera numa falsa irritação.

— Eu sei — ele fala —, mas não é o suficiente. — Sem muita dificuldade, se coloca por cima de ti, se trancando entre as suas pernas. — Necesito más, mi amor.

— E o que você quer? — pergunta, apesar de já imaginar o que vem por aí.

Canalha, chulo. O sorriso vai se alargando na face do argentino.

— Assim, sabe... — começa, malandrinho. Ergue o dedo indicador pra contornar as voltinhas dos seus lábios enquanto diz: ‘se eu te encher de porra, aí você vai ficar quentinha também...’

‘Vai, deixa’, insiste, com charme. Não vai ser a primeira e nem a última vez, e ‘eu sei que você gosta de dormir lotadinha de mim, hm? Não adianta dizer o contrário’, igual ele mesmo afirma.

A face que exibe aquele cretino sorriso vai chegando mais perto, os lábios finos encontram os seus. Selam, estalam, molhadinhos. Você o rodeia com os braços, traz ainda mais pra próximo.

Hm?, o escuta ronronar, meigo. Porra, que se dane qualquer marra, né? De que adianta continuar nesse joguinho de implicância quando pode ganhar uma foda gostosinha, sob o endredom quentinho, pra poder dormir tranquila a noite toda? Amanhã vai acordar, sim, com o meio das pernas todo melado, mas daí é só guiar o rapaz até o banho que tudo se repete e resolve satisfatoriamente. ‘Dale, Fran, me fode’, pede, então, num dengo sem igual.

Ele atende ao seu pedido, claro. As mãos escorregam pelos cantos do seu corpo porque devem chegar até a sua cintura, segurar ali, para poder meter com mais ritmo. Lento, porém, devorador de sanidade. É sensual na medida certa pra te fazer revirar os olhinhos e respirar pela boca entreaberta, o ar quente soprando contra o rosto alheio.

O silêncio da madrugada é propício pra sobressair o devasso do momento. Escuta a voz dele falhando, os arfares. Principalmente, escuta o som ensopadinho do seu corpo, cada vez que ele se soca no seu interior. É de alucinar. Crava as unhas nas costas dele, o que faz o garoto resmungar de tesão. Tranqui, nena, no me lastimes, murmurando nos seus lábios como se nem tivesse quase se derramado só pela selvageria.

Mas quando se derrama de verdade, os próprios dedos dele estão tão firmes e fortes na carne das suas coxas que você sente queimar. Tudo dobra de intensidade; o orgasmo, o gemido que você queria encobrir pra não ecoar pelo cômodo e, possivelmente, ser ouvido pelos vizinhos. O peito dói, o coração parece parar por uns segundinhos e voltar com tudo, disparado.

O corpo do argentino pesa sobre o seu, feito mais cedo, praticamente se joga por cima de ti, proposital. E é só você recuperar o fôlego que começa a importuná-lo, anda, Fran, levanta.

— Tempo, tempo — ele repete, ofegante. O rosto afogado na curva do seu pescoço.

— Fraaan — manha, dando tapinhas nas costas dele.

— Nossa ‘cê é muito chatinha... — Te agarra, repentino, um excesso de carinho que te faz colar o corpo nele, mais ainda porque permanece enterrado inteirinho dentro de ti. O garoto levanta o olhar, te dá um selinho. — Te amo muito, okay?

— Tá, tá, tá — murmura entre os selinhos que se seguem, os estalidos de lábio em lábio quando não se importa se vai causar ruído ou não.

— Hmmm — Esfrega a ponta do nariz no cantinho do seu rosto, meloso. — Quentinha agora?

Você sorri, e mesmo mordendo o lábio entre os dentes para disfarçá-lo, Francisco flagra, sorri junto.

— Sim, né? — responde por ti, e não mente. — Bem melhor agora, vai dormir que é uma beleza, né, gatinha? De nada, tá? — Se move outra vez, retornando com a lateral do corpo pro colchão e te abraçando por trás. No caminho, escorrega pra fora de ti, de tão encharcadinho que tudo ficou. — Ah, não... Deixa eu voltar, deixa... — lastima com desespero, apressa para suspender de levinho a sua coxa para se colocar fundo novamente.

— Vai dormir assim, é? — o questiona, entre o riso.

— Dentro de ti? — ri também, daquele jeitinho doce. — Se eu pudesse, ficava enfiado em você, bem fundo, pelo resto da minha vida.

— Bobo... — Bagunça os cabelos dele.

#imninahchan #francisco romero x reader #francisco romero fanfic #francisco romero fic #francisco romero smut #francisco romero #la sociedad de la nieve #the society of the snow #a sociedade da neve #fran romero #fran romero smut

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krlstoff · 4 months ago

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observó la botella en sus manos con cierto interés, asintiendo levemente ante la información. no era un conocedor exigente del vino, ni alguien que se obsesionara con etiquetas exclusivas, pero entendía el valor de una experiencia como aquella. ' soy feliz con cualquier cosa. ' admite, sin despegar la vista del cristal oscuro ' pero supongo que algo así no se consigue todos los días. ' desvió la mirada hacia su acompañante, esbozando una sonrisa ligera. ' adelante, descorchémosla. '

' este es un penfolds block cuarenta y dos ' le dice a la persona que se encontraba junto a ella tomando la botella con cuidado ' ¿sabías que la fábrica que lo hace solamente vende doce botellas cada década? ' cuestiona despegando finalmente su mirada de la bebida para llevarla a su acompañante ' ¿quieres descorcharla? ' arquea su ceja.

#☽ playing with the pieces in my chest ੭ * ‧ c. gisclle.#☽ playing with the pieces in my chest ੭ * ‧ convo.#soy una tonta #siempre escribo mal el nombre del username de su niña #afsldja #me toma 2-3 intentos de que... why

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dawneternal · 1 year ago

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The Benevolent | Eight

☁︎ Eris x Healer OC

☁︎ Notes: okay. This is kind of a big one 👀 pls let me know what you think, if the descriptions make sense, etc. I'm really hoping the concept for Aya's powers is actually interesting and not dumb but here we go

I've gotten a lot of notes from new readers lately and I wanna say thanks so much for the love and comments!! 💛💛

☁︎ Warnings: battle/war, injuries, blood, death, grief (it's not that graphic I just wanna make sure I get all the tags needed)

☁︎ Word Count: 3.5k

☁︎ AO3 Link / Masterlist

☁︎ Latest Artwork

☁︎ Taglist (let me know if you want on or off) : @cauldronblssd @teddyhoneybear @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @imma-too-many-fandoms @allyjoe755 @milswrites @shadowdaddies @zenkindoflove @landofpetrichor @secret-third-thing @bookwormysblog @mal-adaptive-dreams @daycourtofficial

The secret behind Aya’s power was the extra eye in her mind. Whether they were simply visions or she had some connection to another place, she did not know. But either way, she was born seeing things that no one else could.

Aya had discovered another world, visible only with closed eyes or when she let her vision go hazy. It was a place where wards and spells were visible things, overlayed on top of reality. She could see the building blocks of the universe, the materials that made up the world. And she could reach out and touch them. They were hers to fix and break and manipulate how she pleased.

After years of observing people and the things that they were made of, she came to understand that they could be sorted into three categories. Sewn things, woven things, and things to be fired in a kiln. The first three people Aya had known were one of each. The first memories to exist in her mind were ingrained with their imagery. Her mother, a tapestry. Her aunt, a quilt. And Thesan, a vase.

It took nearly a decade of life for Aya to understand that no one else saw things the way she did. No one else had another realm materialize when they closed their eyes. No one else healed by patching those quilts, stitching down loose threads, or filling cracks in pottery with veins of shimmering gold.

There were many, many times when she wished that she had never spoken about it to anyone. She could have learned sooner to close her eyes and not let anyone see the golden light that shone when she used her power. She could have taken less time to understand that she was different. Or maybe she could have been born knowing that she was not the same as everyone around her.

But it was too late for any of that. Her life had already been molded by her differences.

In truth, using her power was easy. So easy that it scared her. Sometimes an extensive injury or a complicated spell would draw a sweat from her brow, but even then she could go for days if she wanted to. The store of energy within her seemed endless. She had never experienced burnout, or ever been close.

There were so many terrifying truths lying underneath the lid she kept on herself. Her morbid curiosity, the things she could do, how much she was capable of. She never dug too deep, never once in her life testing the limits or possibilities. She could not bring herself to. She would not let herself become a thing that destroyed.

The fear that others carried around her was tangible. Whispers of witchcraft followed her everywhere - apparently her mother hailing from the continent was suspicious, with less known about the origins of their magic. And Aya's own tapestry was stained with the echoes of her mother calling her a liar, holding deep grudges over the discrimination that Aya had brought upon her family. There was no shortage of things that had made this existence difficult.

But on days like this, no matter how much she hated it, Aya thrived.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

The battle had seemed so endless. The shouting, screaming, and clashing of weapons were a constant song, and Aya did her best to tune it out as she ran from bed to bed, cleaning, bandaging, and healing wounds. Her ears rang, desperate for a moment not filled with terrible noise. Her muscles ached, begging for her to take a break. But there were always more buckets to haul, more soldiers to drag to safety, more wounded to heal. She ignored every protest of her tired mind and aching body as she splashed through the mud, dodging arrows and swords, zeroed in on whoever needed helping.

She also ignored the magic within her that sang, thrilled to be used and stretched and tested. It pushed her body to keep going long after she had reached her physical limits, always restless and desperate to be let loose. But she would only ever release as much power as she needed to do her job well. Never any more.

Even still, Aya was always the last standing, the glow of her healing still going steady when all the others had used their last sparks. In class, this earned her jealous looks and accusations of cheating or witchcraft. But of course today, there was nothing but murmured thanks and praise. Aya ignored those, too.

At last, dusk fell like a funeral shroud, covering the silhouettes of broken bodies littering the battlefield. All of the gore blissfully hidden in the darkness. The sky could not, however, hide the sound of suffering and grieving of those who still lived, reaching toward the heavens in desperate tones.

Now, it was an effort to keep her head upright as she sat beside the High Lord of Night, her hand hovering over the gash in his arm. Rhysand, even with his weary eyes and the grime caked into the lines of his skin, watched her heal with a keen interest. If it was a different time, and her heart felt a little lighter, Aya may have asked him about it. Maybe he knew something that she didn’t. But right now it was taking too much focus just to stay awake.

When she closed her eyes Aya was stitching silver stars into a quilt, each block made from a different shade of night. Slightly darker shapes made up the subtle outline of a city, constellations hiding in same-colored thread here and there. It was lovely work, the stars twinkling and shimmering, the night sky velvety soft beneath her fingertips. It did not take long for his arm to be healed. With eyes glittering like the thread she had just held between her fingers, Rhysand thanked her and swaggered off to find his mate.

Truthfully, Aya liked him. Often, she came away from a healing session feeling as though she had read the person's soul front to back like a book. And in Rhysand, she liked what she learned. He was deeply kind, very clever, and generous. She knew without a doubt that his story of Under the Mountain was true. She could see the scars within him, like rips and tears in the quilt that he had tried to fix himself. Some were smoother, aided in their mending by his loved ones. He did not know how lucky he was to have them.

Of course, there were dark patterns in the fabric of his being. Shadows much deeper than others seemed to carry. But that seemed to be a burden bestowed upon all of the High Lords.

Aya liked the Night Court general, too. She had healed Cassian many times over. At first she thought it was recklessness and it was an effort to bite back on her lecture about looking after himself. But she learned, upon closing her eyes, that it was all deliberate. Calculated. It was not carelessness, but devotion. He would take shots and blows for others as often as he could, his shouts and commands ringing out louder than the din of battle. In his mind, he had not done his best unless he was nearly falling apart.

Healing Cassian was like knitting homespun wool yarn. Each stitch snug and precise, marled grey and white like the Illyrian mountains. The colors were so solemn, the material so practical, but the finished product warm and comforting. That seemed to sum him up. He always had a grin and a wink for her, always a genuine thank you and some absurd compliment. He was consistent, always, like the woven pattern of his being.

Over the course of the battle, Aya collected those images, like a scrapbook of the people around her. She mended seams, knit and wove, spun thread, molded clay. Every once in a while, she was too late. The knitting had too many missed stitches, too many loops had come loose and it all unraveled beneath her hands. Every time, she mourned with her whole heart. Grieved until it hurt.

If she kept her eyes closed, tuned into that other realm, she could watch the soul depart this world. Always drifting toward the sky like a wisp of smoke. The first handful of times she had witnessed it she had not been able to look away, frozen in place by some terrifying curiosity. Or perhaps it was the desire to see them off, on the chance that her guidance could provide one last comfort.

But she did not like to watch it anymore. It would show up in her dreams that night without fail, always with her hands reaching and that soul slipping through her fingers despite her efforts. Today, she did not need to give her nightmares any more material to work with.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Aya did not see Eris until the battle was over. The possibility of seeing him here, of seeing the worst, had haunted her every moment since she had arrived with the rest of the healers. She never had the heart to scan the lifeless bodies for his pale, freckled face, but she also feared that she would be the last to know if something had happened to him. There was a long list of people who would take priority first.

It was a strange thing, the aftermath of battle. The air was thick, relief and mourning twining together into something heavy and difficult to breathe. Celebratory laughter and singing clashed with the solemn sounds of funeral rites and grieving songs. Metal clanged as armor and weapons were moved and cleaned, soldiers lay resting wherever they could before the journey home.

Among the chaos, a glint of red captured Aya's attention and she turned to see Eris striding across the field, armor glittering in the sun and that crimson cape billowing behind him. Her breath caught in her throat as he pivoted and his russet eyes locked on hers. The relief was immense, almost painful as she drowned in it.

Even so, she was prepared to see him turn the other way and pretend he hadn't seen her, as he had done at the High Lord's meeting. And she would be content, just knowing he had lived. But he did not look away. Eyes growing wild, he turned on his heel and rushed toward her. He pulled off his gauntlets and let them thump to the ground, hands reaching for her face the moment he was close enough.

"Sparrow," He murmured, turning her head back and forth to look for injuries. He took in her tired eyes, swiping a thumb over the purple bags and lines of dirt. "I was afraid I'd find you here. I'm so glad you're alright."

Aya was speechless, staring up at him with her lips parted as she searched for words. She was still confused, her thoughts snapping back and forth between lingering anger and relief to see him. Her skin burned under his touch, under the eyes of those that watched them as she could practically hear the gossip forming on their tongues.

"I never got to apologize," He said in a rush, his voice hoarse. He paused, tongue darting out to wet his chapped lips.

Aya’s head throbbed. She did not have room for this in her mind, today. Not for the memories of their last conversation or for whatever game he was playing now, looking at her like she was the sun when anyone could see and overhear his pet names.

Her mind was still reeling from these last days, trying to process everything she had seen and heard and felt. There had been no room for hesitation and no place for her fear, all anxiety barred from her body so as not to weigh her down. Now the fear and pain rushed back in, like predators reclaiming their territory and she was nothing but a vessel for the conflict, barely holding herself together.

So, Aya let her gaze drop from his eyes and fall to the grass, breathing deeply in an attempt to placate the beasts threatening to tear her apart.

Eris watched, and she missed the understanding dawning on his face as he studied her trembling form. He swallowed the dozens of things he wished to say and put aside his desire to extinguish the nightmare that had haunted him since the High Lord's meeting. Later. He could say it all later.

As her eyes trailed back upwards, they snagged on Eris’s hurt knee, blood dripping between the plates of armor on his leg.

"You're hurt," She said, unable to resist despite her tiredness, "Let me heal you."

"Alright," He was still for a moment as he considered protesting. But right now he'd do anything to lift even a fraction of her burden, so he picked up the gauntlets and followed after her.

She led him to a quiet tent, only a few others inside, resting or bandaging fellow healers. A few heads turned at the Autumn heir, tall and regal. And then their stares flickered to Aya, the black sheep of the Dawn Court leading the way for him. She ignored them, as she was developing quite the talent for.

"Sit," She murmured, scurrying to find a clean rag.

Eris obeyed, sitting on the edge of a cot and removing the armor from his leg to reveal his bloody knee. He watched her trembling hands, chest aching as he imagined what she may have been through. The memories of his first battle had stayed sharp through the centuries, the desolation still so heavy after all this time.

"Aya," He said when she’d returned, keeping his voice soft.

Taking the supplies from her hands and setting them aside, he reached out and took her shaking fingers in his, gently pulling her in to stand between his knees. He rubbed his thumbs over her icy knuckles, grimacing at the dried blood under her fingernails. His power was nearing the dregs, but he still willed a bit of heat to the surface to warm her skin.

She looked up at him, such sorrow in her grey eyes, and when her chin wobbled, it broke him. Aya was strong and brave and could do whatever she put her mind to. But he would still choose to keep her away from this place, too full of death and hurt and blood.

"You did well, today," He whispered.

They stayed like that for a long moment, Aya standing in the shelter of his body, absorbing his heat and all the comfort he tried to emanate. This time as she closed her eyes and took deep breaths, Eris's warmth began to wash away the terrible things she had seen. The ways she had failed. The lives that had slipped into the afterlife while she had no choice but to watch.

The burlap tent dimmed the sunshine, beams of light sneaking through ripped holes in the fabric to dapple Eris’s skin. Between those golden spots and his whiskey-brown-sugar scent, Aya could almost pretend they were somewhere else, under the canopy of the Autumn forest.

"Thank you," She murmured. Her eyes fluttered open and Eris let out a breath, relieved at the return of the steadiness he'd grown used to.

Heaving a deep sigh, Aya grabbed a cloth and began to wipe the blood from his skin. With the tender moment passed, the silence between them was heavy, charged with unsaid things. It did not help that the air was filled with the tang of blood and the cries of the injured.

Aya tossed the bloody rag into a bucket and closed her eyes once more.

Through the darkness, shapes began to emerge, that other world coming into view. Searching for his essence, she found the woven texture of Eris's tapestry. It appeared before her in all its loveliness - a gorgeous scene of Autumn woods, adorned with thread that shone like rubies. She had seen it a dozen times by now, but she was always captivated by it's beauty. By the secrets hiding between the threads.

She desperately wished to know the meaning of all of them. The hounds and the maple leaves were clear enough, but what of the birds and the chess pieces and the interlocking pattern cleverly hidden in the leaves of the trees? There were stories in all of them, pieces that made Eris who he was. Her hunger to know them had never lessened, and she was beginning to wonder if it ever would.

The section that needed fixing was interlaced with gold, and Aya found herself already equipped with a length of gold thread, wrapped around her forefinger like it was a spool.

She went to work, filling the gaps in the images and stitching down loose threads. Her magic eagerly rushed to the surface, still energized and ready. Its endlessness reminded her of the time of daily faebane doses to keep her powers from being revealed to Amarantha. The memory was bitter on her tongue, the horrid taste of faebane like a vengeful ghost.

At least now, she did not have to rush. There were no rows of beds waiting for her help. It was just Eris, patient and calm and not in any danger.

There was just enough golden thread around her finger to finish the job. But as she tried to find the end of the spool and tie off her work, she found it had wrapped in a loop in the exact place her golden band should be. Pulling on the string revealed it to be as unmoving as Edana's ring, as if it were attached to her skin. Aya tugged her hand back but the thread pulled tight, attaching her to Eris’s tapestry.

Again, she pulled, but it did not budge. A pulse traveled back down it, sending a tingling feeling through her hand, as if the tapestry had tugged back.

What was this? This was like no healing she’d ever experienced. Once more, Aya yanked as hard as she could, and heard Eris make a choking sound in front of her.

Her eyes snapped open. She was met with the image of Eris, his brows furrowed in confusion, a hand resting on his armored chest. Aya's heart stuttered, her throat closing with her rising panic. Time seemed to slow to a stop, and through the blood rushing in her ears, she heard his heartbeat. Her own echoed, calling back like a songbird.

"What's wrong?" she whispered, afraid of the answer.

"A chest pain," He said, and he shook his head, any suspicion clearing from his mind. He was oblivious.

Aya could not breathe. She closed her eyes again, willing her lungs to fill with air, and she could still see that golden thread, bridging their tapestries. She dared not pull it again, not with Eris right in front of her.

Had she done that? Had she made it herself? Was she that powerful, that she could forge a bond with her own hands?

"Are you alright?" Eris asked, eyes flicking back and forth between hers.

She ignored him, thoughts whirling faster and faster. She couldn't look at him anymore. His gaze burned, burned like fire and it hurt. The space between them was painful and her body was crying out for her to close the gap, to weave every thread of herself together with his and become one.

“I need you to go,” Aya swallowed hard. Eris opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off with an unconvincing smile and added, “I just need to lie down.”

He stared at her for a long moment, anxiety written so clearly in his eyes. It took all of the strength Aya had left not to tear away from his gaze, not to let tears rise to the surface and his hands wipe them away. The magnetic draw pulling her towards him only aided in confirming her suspicions and furthering her panic.

Finally, his lips drew into a tight line and he nodded.

“Please take care of yourself,” He said, slotting the armor back into place. At the entrance to the tent, he gave her one last glance before returning to the field.

Aya managed to wait until he had left to let the tears fall, dropping slowly to her knees and bending to let her forehead rest on the edge of the cot. What had she done?

She hadn't meant to do it. She had only been trying to heal him. Oh gods, had she trapped him, by accident?

All at once, everything that she was not flooded her mind. He deserved someone better. Someone less strange, someone people weren't afraid of. Someone smart and gorgeous with a mind for politics. Someone from Autumn, who Edana would love and welcome.

Trapped trapped trapped hammered against her skull in a steady rhythm. What had she done? Selfish selfish selfish.

She cursed her power over and over. It was not possible. It could not be possible.

And yet, she felt empty, her body acutely aware of his absence. The thread itched, begging her to chase after him and be closer. She had dreamt of a mating bond before, in the way that most young people did.

But this did not feel like a rose-tinted daydream come to life. This was another nightmare.

______________________________________

p.s. there is a metaphor in here that was especially fun to write if you can find it I'll give you a prize 👀

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meetmeafftcrdark · 1 year ago

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– ¡Fue una locura, sin duda! –coincidió. James seguía amando el Quidditch, y siempre era un agrado verlo, sobre todo cuando jugaban personas con las que él había tenido el privilegio de jugar– Lo hiciste increíble, tienen merecida la victoria.

fiesta.

—Todo fue muy loco, porque yo estaba... —Inició su relato sobre el reciente partido entre las Arpías de Holyhead y los Montrose Magpies— . Y después, puff —continuó por unos segundos más describiéndolo con entusiasmo—. Así fue —culminó—. Estoy devastada —anunció refiriéndose al cansancio físico tras un partido tan reñido y, sin embargo, no se reflejaba en su rostro más que un poco de euforia.

#el yeims y gwenog jugaron juntos en el colegio si mal no recuerdo #así que pa mi son medio pals pero si no te parece ignoramos eso #☽. 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 – don’t wanna live as an untold story / interaction.#☽. int: james & gwenog.#cxpectopatronum

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hamartia-mmff · 2 months ago

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inspiriert von @wayfaring-schofield und ihren picrew fragen, die auf meiner fyp herumfliegen, wird es wieder zeit für etwas mehr hamartia oc content (und einfach weil ich die crew zu sehr misse). sou: picrew von dir und deinem hamartia baby NOW.

Sooo Ich will ja sagen I am back, but not really :'D ich update euch unter den Bildern.

Erstmal diese Frage beantworten. Muss gestehen, dass das verdammt schwer war ein picrew zu finden, dass ansatzweise gepasst hat💀 Vi und Rhys sind einfach zu spezifisch mit ihren Looks XD Dort mal keine (petrol)blauen oder sogar weißen Haare, dann wieder keine Option um ein Auge geschlossen oder mit Augenklappe zu machen und arg es war ein Krampf xD Ich bin nicht sonderlich zufrieden damit, aber ich denke besser wird es auch einfach nicht werden...Vi's Haarfarben sind katastrophal aber ich war dann schon froh, wenn ich überhaupt einen Blauton zu Auswahl hatte...

Aber dafür gibt es das little guy picrew als bonus, weil ich das einfach süß fand, auch wenn die Farben wieder nicht gepasst haben xD

Zu meine Reaktion...uhm ja Rhys würde ich einfach wie so ein crushing shy Idiot aus der Ferne anstarren und einen auf Bastet machen, wenn er mir zuzwinkert :'D und Vi...naja der ist mindestens genau so socially awkward wie ich, also können wir uns gegenseitig mit unseren resting bitch faces anstarren und etwas verlegen werden <3

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡

Ich nutze den Post hier auch gleich nochmal für ein kleines Updates meinerseits...Mit dem heutigen Tag bin ich offiziell arbeitslos, nachdem mein Job die letzten Monate in der Schwebe hing und die Firma sich nun entschlossen hat Personal abzubauen und gleich 90% meiner Abteilung zu kündigen :'D

In der Theorie sollte ich jetzt also mehr Zeit zum Schreiben haben vorübergehend, aber wie es dann in der Praxis läuft werden wir noch sehen...meine Leutchen kennen mich ja mittlerweile :'))

Aber an der Partner-MMFF wird nebenbei gewerkelt (was zum Großteil meiner Partnerautorin zu verdanken ist <3) und es wird sich zwar mit jetzt Anfang Mai nicht mehr so spielen, aber noch im Mai sollte es klappen :D

Weiters ist der Hamartia discord Server an sich auch fertig und ich werde mich bemühen, dass ich den Teilnehmern heute im Laufe des Nachmittags/Abends noch einen Einladungslink schicke. Es muss sich aber natürlich nicht jeder verpflichtet fühlen beizutreten!

Danke, dass ihr es bis hierhin geschafft habt und sorry an beleth, dass ich diesen Post hier auch gleich noch für ein Update verwende xD Abermals danke für eure Geduld <3

take care

Val

#hamartia mmff #oc: rhys #oc: vi #one piece mmff #update unter den pics #I am slow and tired #picrew needs more blue haircolors #ffmmff

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starriesconundrum · 3 months ago

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╭------------──────༺♡༻──────---------------╮ "𝗜𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗹𝘆 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗲, 𝘄𝗵𝘆'𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗳𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁?" ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

➭ Name: starry/starriesconundrum

➭ pronouns: It/its/itself/they/them/themselves/fang/fangs/fangself/hate/hates/hateself/star/stars/starself/sun/suns/sunself/moon/moons/moonself/thing/things/thingself/h3/h1m/h1m23lf/bee/bees/beeself/teeth/teeths/teethself/xe/xey/xem/xyr/xi/xiy/xim/xiyr/ze/zey/zem/zeyr/zi/ziy/zim/ziyr/mal/ware/heart/hearts/heartself/love/loves/loveself/wire/wires/wireself/deer/deers/deerself/sin/sins/sinself/?/?s/?self/./.s/.self/horror/horrors/horrorself/gore/gores/goreself/ix/ixs, !?/!?s, h!?/h!?m, sh!?/h!?r, h?/h?m, sh?/h?r, that/thats, this/this, thing/things, that thing/itself, entity/entitys, being/being, inhum/inhumane, bad/idea, risk/risks, copy/copys, fake/fakes, mask/masks, what/whats, who/whos, [redacted]/[redacted]s, alter/nate, uncanny/uncannys, scare/scares, spook/spooks, eye/eyes, cryp/cryptid, creature/creatures, watch/watcher, stare/stares, voi/void, shadow/shadows, stalk/stalks, weird/weirds, odd/odds, stat/static, strange/stranges, creep/creeps

➭ no DNI just be respectful!!

➭ We are mostly pro-c ➭ we are a DID system (cisDID) for the love of god NOT ALL OF US A RADQUEER LIKE 2 OF US ARE RADQUEER "If it wasnt in my blood, what did you see right?"

╰------------──────༺♡༻──────------------╯ we may not respond to dms that arent our husband or someone in our age range! mostly because we're very nervous beings but someone will probably reply eventually :,3 #1nf3ct3d'z zt34l1ng th1z… - MY ZT4ZH 0F TR4NZ1DZ... #Exi's Reblogs >:D - Exi's reblogs

#pro para #transharmed #transid #pro transid #rq safe #transid please interact #did system #traumagenic system #pro endo #endo safe #endo friendly #pluralgang #1nf3ct3d'z zt34l1ng th1z...

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hot-and-confused · 4 months ago

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⋆˙⟡♡ sophia. 20. lover of arctic monkeys, led zeppelin, pink floyd, fleetwood mac, harry styles, paramore, & the smashing pumpkins. dean winchester enthusiast. oat milk enjoyer.

───────────☆───────────

˙⋆✮ CHARACTERS ✮⋆˙

⋆˙⟡♡ mallory hawthorne. dean winchester enthusiast. august 4th, 1981.

likes : cherry flavored things. fleetwood mac. guns. classic literature. the smashing pumpkins. root beer. maroon lipstick. candlelight. 2am. led zeppelin. the glow of red stoplights. sleeping with the windows open. leather jackets. the sound of the impala’s engine. bourbon. black sabbath. iced coffee. silver jewelry. dark red, dark blue, dark green, and dark brown. her porsche. the sound of crickets. thunderstorms. fur coats. pink floyd. fountain pens. poker. bonfire smell. the creation of adam painting. big dogs. paramore. vinyls. the smell of leather. slightly smudged eyeliner. skipping rocks in a lake. ten things i hate about you. marlboro reds. onion rings. stuffed animals. horses. learning. being right. silence. sprawling her signature across napkins. playing with dean’s fingers. lollipops. electric guitar. deftones. autumn. playing pool. partying. breaking laws. dante’s inferno. raspberries. making out with dean winchester. hello kitty. cinnamon rolls. lucky brand jeans. film photography. out of tune pianos. astronomy but not astrology. record stores. the smell of rain. dark chocolate. driving too fast. leather-bound journals. classic muscle cars. watching people. military time. chess. lace bras + matching lingerie sets. black cats. snoopy + woodstock. drummers. rotary phones. cathedrals. zippo lighters.

dislikes : john winchester. having her hair tucked behind her ear. movies with any sort of violence against animals. beer. most bugs. bananas. painting. acoustic guitar. running. people that are too optimistic. disorganized spaces. male authority figures. people who talk too much about nothing. sappy romantic gestures. bright, neon colors. overly sweet desserts. people who judge her for being blunt or direct. talking about her feelings. superficiality. when dean gets out of bed too early. being told what to do. small talk. people who can’t spell. board games. anyone other than dean touching the back of her neck.

✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧

˙⋆✮ MASTERLIST ✮⋆˙

⋆˙⟡♡ dean & mallory

—vol.01

layla

—vol.02

porsche

—vol.03

shotgun

—vol.04

sidewalk

—vol.05

under cover of darkness

—vol.06

pie

—vol.07

night moves

—vol.08

late nights, early mornings

—vol.09

hello kitty

—vol.10

dive bar

—vol.11

adoration

—vol.12

interrupted

—vol.13

hero moves

—vol.14

handsome fuck

—vol.15

ribs

—vol.16

21 candles

───────────☆───────────

EXTRA

dean + mal’s nsfw alphabet

LOVE NOTES

───────────☆───────────

⋆˙⟡♡ dean & lenore

—part one

—part two

#by sophiuhh #supernatural

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meetmeafftcrdark · 10 months ago

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Aquel comentario irónico, por algún motivo, lo hizo recordar a su época en Hogwarts, cuando Lily no parecía tolerarlo. El pensamiento hizo que la comisura de sus labios se alzara levemente– No pasa nada –respondió ante su disculpa– ¿Puedo arreglarlo? –preguntó, mostrando su varita. Prefería preguntar antes que simplemente hacerlo, para no tomarla desprevenida con la magia. Se debatió si decirle la verdad, y terminó por decantarse por hacerlo– A riesgo de sonar como un acosador... vine a ver que estuvieras bien –confesó, pasándose una mano por el cabello en un gesto algo nervioso.

había estado tratando de mantenerse serena, callar, aguantar, ¿tenía algún derecho a quejarse y lastimar más a quienes la rodeaban? la carga mental era demasiada y lily solo quería escapar de ella, por ello se mantiene enfocada en salir de allí aún entre quejas y con su tobillo adolorido, pero salir al fin. mirada sube instantáneamente apenas escucha su nombre en una voz que, con el pasar de los días, había aprendido a reconocer a la perfección. poéticamente, james era el que había tenido más de la nueva lily que los demás, todas sus versiones: desorientada, abrumada, aterrada, y también malhumorada. no sabía cómo adaptarse, era su esposo y no lo recordaba, tenían un bebé juntos y apenas se permitía verlo por más de cinco segundos, en especial después de haber huido de la que se suponía era su casa un par de días atrás, cuando sus respiraciones se encontraron por primera vez. “sí, perfecta.” dice con ironía, dejando que cúmulo de emociones desagradables tomarán el control por algunos segundos, antes de notar que en realidad él podía ser la última persona en el mundo a la que quería hablarle de esa forma. suspiro pesado la obliga a callar y cerrar los ojos un momento para respirar y concentrarse. “lo lamento…” se disculpa, aunque todavía no lo mira directo. “estoy bien, mi tacón se rompió.” explica aunque sabe que es obvio. “¿qué haces aquí?” pregunta, de nuevo dejando que mirada recorra facciones contrarias.

#mi shiiiiiiip aunque la lily no se acuerde de él #como que asumí que lily no está familiarizada con la magia por la pérdida de memoria #pero si está mal lo corrijo #☽. 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 – don’t wanna live as an untold story / interaction.#☽. int: james & lily.#snitchdorvda

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w3irdoartist · 6 months ago

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This drawing was inevitable for me.

Alina and Mal

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

#shadow and bone fanart #alina starkov #mal oretsev #grishaverse fanart #sketch #ship dynamics #ship art

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justnhaban · 3 months ago

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❊ ~✑ Kuwei Yul-Bo ~ ❊

« Your Local Inferni »

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ❊ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The Crows~

(Was I kidnapped? Did I go willingly? We’ll never know.)

-Jesper: @the-sharp-shooter your local sharpshooter, pretty face with a foul mouth. (Can Him and Wylan please get a room)

-Wylan: @sunshine-bombs-n-arson once upon a time was my twin, great chemist, better conversationalist. (Again. Please. Get a room.)

-Kaz: @the-true-bastard-of-the-barrel also know has dirtyhands, I think he has something going on with knife lady but…I’m not going to get into it (their tension is so think I could cut it with a knife.)

-Inej: @knife-wife-inej she’s the sweetest, but also. I may or may not be scared of her the most (anyone who can tame Kaz is automatically scary)

-Nina: @thisishowtobeaheartbreaker the coolest crow, and the best translator. Matthias and Her are the best (Take me out for waffles one day! I’ve heard many good things about them)

-Matthias: Doesn’t talk much, but if Nina loves him he must great.

Colleagues and others~

-David: @daavidd-kostyk great colleague, amazing company! Hard to talk to…but you get used to it, Genyas his wife.

-Genya: @thegenyasafin may or may not have gotten rid of my temporary twin (but it was for a good cause) very well-spoken and kind.

-Zoya: @therealstormwitch the queen of Ravka, hard to get to know but has the best intentions (I think), (don’t worry Nikolai and her are in love) (I think…)

-Nikolai: @nikolailantsovhere Lady Zoyas #1 Headache, (please come back and tell your wife to stop bullying me)

-Hanne: @hanne-not-rasmus can’t say I’ve met him but I heard Nina and him…uhhh…I rather not get into it.

-Alina: @the-sol-koroleva I believe she is one of Inejs blades, and a Sankt altogether.

-Mal: I’m pretty sure the Sankt and him go way back.

-The Darkling: @the-black-heretic does this man even have a real name??

-Vasily: @vasily-lantsov who.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ❊ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

RP by, @lunarlee101

#grishaverse rp #soc rp #grishaverse #kuwei yul bo #rp blog #six of crows #crooked kingdom #grisha trilogy

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meetmeafftcrdark · 6 months ago

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☽. 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐝𝐚 𝐝𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐬

¡hola, hola, mi gente linda! ✧ por aquí javi y, además de desearles un muy buen año nuevo, les dejo por aquí información de mis hijes y posibles conexiones que podrían tener. si algo se les ocurre fuera de lo que está escrito, o les llama la atención, o quieren más información, mis mensajillos están siempre abiertos para ustedes ❤︎

𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐤𝐬

26 años, sangre pura. Es dueña de su propia cafetería, donde además atiende, junto a su esposo, Ted Tonks. Tiene una hija, Nymphadora Tonks ( no me pregunten la edad que yo ya no sé ni cuántos años tengo yo ). Fue parte de Slytherin durante su paso por Hogwarts y fue parte del equipo de Quidditch, en el que era cazadora. Fue miembra de la Orden del Fénix, así que sabe de su existencia y, aunque decidió salirse, sigue apoyando la causa.

✧. Andrómeda es una buena amiga, así que si alguien quiere una de esas, ella está disponible. Ahora, cuando se trata de la comunidad purista, la historia es otra. Andrómeda es considerada una traidora, así que si usted tiene un personaje purista y quiere alguien a quien odiar, ella también sirve. Fuera de eso, puede ser un buen modelo a seguir para personajes que buscan ir en contra de lo que les han enseñado y no saben cómo, porque en eso ella tiene experiencia.

✧. En general con ella siempre estoy abierta a todo, desde amistades actuales, hasta quizás algún ex-fling en Hogwarts ( que nunca roleé, pero asumo que tuvo, si era una adolescente bien sociable ), pasando por enemistades ( que tiene, porque ella no es de quedarse callada ante la injusticia desde hace ya tiempo ) y así. Me gustaría también buscarle alguna especie de ocupación mágica, quizás no como carrera, pero sí algo "on the side" que además pueda ser útil ( sanación, pociones, etc. ). Si alguien tiene un personaje que pudiese ayudarla con eso, yo le regalaría galletitas a cambio ❤︎

𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐮𝐦

27 años ( ¡cumplidos hoy! mándenle regalos ), sangre pura. Es escritora y trabaja en una editorial muggle. Es novia de Gideon Prewett. Fue parte de Hufflepuff durante su paso por Hogwarts y tenía una gaceta llamada Daily Hogwarts. Actualmente, es parte de El Oráculo ( aunque nadie sabe ).

✧. Daisy es un amor. That's it, that's the tweet. Es fácil ser su amix. Es una persona muy justa, que ve el bien en las personas, que le gusta ayudar. Asumo que eso también le trae gente a la que le cae mal, sobre todo puristas o gente no buena persona en general, y ella no tiene problema en discutir, yolo ( aunque sí le tiene harto miedo a la guerra y a algunas personas en particular ). Si su personaje necesita que alguien le tienda una mano con lo que sea, desde consejos hasta trabajar en un proyecto personal, lo más probable es que si es alguien amable, Daisy pueda estar ahí, como para casi cualquier otra conexión ( menos romántica, si lleva enamorada de Gideon lit toda su vida ).

✧. Con ella sí me gustaría que tuviera tanto más amix, como gente con la que se lleva mal. Se supone que desde Hogwarts era bien sociable y que además le daba cara a los Slytherin que se metían con ella, algo que yo creo que no cambia con los años.

✧. También estoy buscando alguna trama para potenciar más su lado periodístico, que lo tiene desde el colegio y ahora con la guerra se ha metido más y más desde el anonimato junto al equipo de El Oráculo.

𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

26 años, sangre pura. Trabaja en el departamento de Accidentes Mágicos y Catástrofes del Ministerio de Magia. Está soltera, aunque le medio gusta alguien, sólo que no se ha dado cuenta, nadie le avise. Fue parte de Ravenclaw durante su paso por Hogwarts. Actualmente, es miembra de la Orden del Fénix.

✧. Emmeline es de poquitos amix, porque como es media sabionda y eso la hace parecer arrogante, no tiene mucha gente cerca, además de que con los años también se ha puesto más amargada. Aun así, estoy abierta a explorar amistades con ella, es bien amable y hasta cariñosa, when you get to know her. También es probable que, si usted tiene un personaje purista, se lleven mal, porque a esta no le gusta la intolerancia y además desde la muerte de su hermana hace años y después la de Benjy ya no tiene paciencia para el purismo. También puede ser buena mentora, en muchos ámbitos, tanto trabajo en el Ministerio, como en defensa, o estudios en general, ella es muy inteligente y abierta a ayudar. Creo que el único tipo de conexión que no veo con ella, ni en pasado, es algo romántico/sexual, porque no es muy su estilo, pero todo lo demás es conversable y bienvenido.

✧. No busco nada en particular con ella, pero estoy abierta a cualquier cosa que se les pueda ocurrir.

𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

*. imagínense los lentes

26 años, sangre pura. Está desempleado, vive de herencia familiar, básicamente. Está casado con Lily Potter y tiene un hijo, Harry Potter. Fue parte de Gryffindor durante su paso por Hogwarts y fue parte del equipo de Quidditch, del que fue cazador y capitán, además de ser Premio Anual en séptimo año. Actualmente, es miembro de la Orden del Fénix.

✧. Este señor era don popular en Hogwarts y sigue siendo una persona muy sociable y amable, así que es ideal para tener amix. También si su personaje es purista y necesita a quien odiar, James Potter siempre disponible. La verdad es un personaje versátil en ese sentido, podría cumplir muchos roles y yo siempre abierta a todo.

✧. No busco nada en particular con él, pero estoy abierta a cualquier cosa que se les pueda ocurrir.

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐦

27 años, sangre pura. Es auror, al igual que su esposa, Alice Longbottom y tiene un hijo, Neville Longbottom. Fue parte de Gryffindor durante su paso por Hogwarts. Actualmente, es miembro de la Orden del Fénix.

✧. Frank es una muy buena persona y le encanta ayudar. Si su personaje necesita eso, para eso está Frank. También es muy bueno en defensa, por su trabajo como auror y por su participación en la Orden, así que si alguien necesita un mentor, él también está disponible. Si bien él no es alguien que sostenga mucho odio y esas cosas, obviamente estar tan abiertamente en contra de las ideas de la pureza de la sangre, también hace que sea fácil que tenga enemigues.

✧. No busco nada en particular con él, pero estoy abierta a cualquier cosa que se les pueda ocurrir.

𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧

26 años, semi-veela. Es jugadora de Quidditch y se desempeña como buscadora del Puddlemere United. Está soltera, pero todavía no supera el enamoramiento por Aether que tiene desde la infancia. Fue parte de Gryffindor durante su paso por Hogwarts y fue parte del equipo de Quidditch, en el que también era buscadora.

✧. Minerva sí es más selectiva con sus relaciones. En el colegio sufrió mucho acoso por ser semi-veela ( al nivel de ser peligroso contra su vida ) y es algo que igual ha llevado a su vida adulta, por lo que hacer amix es mucho más difícil, pero no imposible. Si bien se ve media lejana, porque pone distancia, Minerva es muy amable y cariñosa. Estoy abierta a casi cualquier tipo de conexión con ella, exceptuando roomies ( vive con su bestie, Bertram ) y amigues con beneficios/cosas de una noche, porque no son su estilo.

✧. Con Minerva me gustaría poder establecer más amistades, así como también enemistades más claras y ojalá con relación a lo que ella es, porque es gran parte de su desarrollo lo que tiene que ver con ser semi-veela. Yyyyy justamente por ser semi-veela, y además es conocida por ser jugadora de Quidditch de un equipo grande, me parecería ver interesante la posibilidad de que tenga admiradores/as. También he pensado en la posibilidad de que pueda gustarle alguien, aunque hay que tener claro que no sería para siempre porque ella tiene un endgame, pero sería increíble poder desarrollar ese lado de ella.

𝐦𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

37 años, sangre pura. Es ama de casa. Está casada con Arthur Weasley y tiene siete hijos: Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron y Ginny Weasley. Fue parte de Gryffindor durante su paso por Hogwarts.

✧. ¿Su personaje necesita una figura maternal? Ahí está Molly, para bien o para mal. Eso es lo máximo que puedo ofrecer con ella, porque es lo que ella es: una madre hasta en lo más profundo y desde antes de tener hijos propios.

✧. No busco nada en particular con ella, pero estoy abierta a cualquier cosa que se les pueda ocurrir.

𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝

27 años, sangre pura. Es estudiante de Pociones y dedica su tiempo libre a experimentar también con hechizos. Está casada con Xenophilius Lovegood y tienen una hija, Luna Lovegood. Fue parte de Ravenclaw durante su paso por Hogwarts.

✧. Pandora podría ser una muy buena amiga, mientras la otra persona esté dispuesta a escuchar locuras y hasta a ser parte de experimentos a veces. Creo que fuera de roomies ( porque vive con su familia ) y cosas románticas/sexuales ( tanto actuales como pasadas ), todo lo demás podría funcionar, aunque si es, por ejemplo, enemigues, lo más probable es que sea one-sided, porque Pandora no es de odiar a nadie. Incluso podría ser mentora de alguien cuando se trata de pociones y experimentos, pero de nuevo, la persona tendría que estar dispuesta a cosas raras y posibles fracasos.

✧. Me gustaría que tuviese más amigues, se los merece. No tengo ideas claras de ningún otro tipo de trama para ella, pero estoy abierta a lo que se les pueda ocurrir.

𝐲𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞

27 años, sangre pura. Trabaja como Inefable en el Departamento de Misterios del Ministerio de Magia. Está soltera. Es francesa, por lo que estudió en Beauxbatons, y llegó al Reino Unido hace unos años luego de trabajar en el Ministerio de Magia Francés, en el área de seguridad. Es mortífaga.

✧. Yvette es la reina del cinismo. Es purista, obvio, es mortífaga, pero sabe disimular muy bien su odio hacia los hijos de muggles y los muggles en general, porque cree que de esa forma puede ser más útil. Aún así, participa de los eventos de la comunidad purista y se mueve en esos círculos, pero también se comporta "amable" con quienes no son parte. Es posible que cualquier amistad ( exceptuando muy pocas ) sean fingidas por su lado, y ese tipo de conexiones me interesarían sin duda, al igual casi cualquier cosa.

✧. Como decía antes, me gustaría poder explorar a Yvette relacionándose con personas fuera de los mortífagos y la comunidad purista. Esto sería obviamente una mentira de su parte, y probablemente llevaría a algún tipo de daño o así, es algo que habría que conversar. También estoy abierta a buscarle cosas de una noche o incluso algún amigue con beneficios, pero habría que pensarlo bien. Además de estas cosas, por supuesto Yvette está disponible para tramas que necesiten un morti.

𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐞𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧

27 años, hija de muggles. Trabaja como cuidadora en una guardería muggle. Está casada con Edric Brown y tiene una hija, Lavender Brown. Fue parte de Gryffindor durante su paso por Hogwarts.

✧. Darcy es muy dulce, pero es muy insegura, y eso igual marca su forma de relacionarse. No sé si tendría enemigues como tal, sería algo one-sided si alguien encontrara una razón para odiarla. Es muy maternal, muy buena con les niñes y además le gusta mucho hacer cosas con su hija, así que incluso puede hacerse amiga de otras madres a través de play dates con Lavender y esas cosas. Los únicos tipos de conexiones que no me imagino son los que son de carácter romántico/sexual, ni actual ni pasadas, porque está casada y además nunca ha sido su estilo.

✧. Darcy necesita amigues, pero también necesita ya salir de la inseguridad con la que carga. Hace mucho tiempo ( años ), exploré la posibilidad de que pudiese estudiar sanación, algo que obviamente no hizo. Quizás sería interesante que pudiese reencontrarse con esa idea y quizás incluso hacerlo, pero obviamente, necesitaría guía.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐠𝐞

28 años, sangre pura. Recientemente terminó sus estudios de Historia en una universidad muggle y se encuentra en búsqueda de un trabajo temporal, en lo que decide qué quiere hacer de forma permanente. Está soltera. Fue parte de Hufflepuff durante su paso por Hogwarts.

✧. Esta mujer es un rayo de luz. Si su personaje necesita una amiga, ella es ideal para eso. Siempre le gustó alejarse de los problemas, incluso cuando ya tenía claro que consideraba justo y lo que no, entonces enemistades es más difícil ( pero no imposible ). Charity podría servir para muchos tipos de conexiones, con algunas excepciones.

✧. Le interesan mucho los asuntos muggles y con el tiempo se ha ido acercando más al activismo en lo que esto concierne. Es por eso que, pronto, buscará crear una especie de organización en pro de los derechos de los muggle durante esta guerra. Quizás alguien podría sumársele en esto ( aunque posiblemente tendría que ser alguien a quien ya conoce ). No tengo ideas claras de ningún otro tipo de trama para ella, pero estoy abierta a lo que se les pueda ocurrir.

𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧

26 años, sangre pura. Trabaja como pasante de administración en el equipo de Quidditch de Inglaterra. Es novio de Phoebe Elliot y tiene un hijo, Ernie Macmillan. Fue parte de Hufflepuff durante su paso por Hogwarts.

✧. Nicholas ha crecido y ya no es esa persona que finge ser arrogante o desinteresado ( aunque probablemente le quedan algunas enemistades de cuando sí, porque tampoco iba a andar arreglando eso ). Es sociable y bromista, así que puede ser buen amix, pero también es brutalmente honesto y no le va a poner buena cara a nadie que le caiga mal, así que eso también siempre está disponible. Puede relacionarse con gente que le guste mucho el Quidditch, ir de fiesta, etc.

✧. Puede tener muchos tipos de conexiones, actuales y pasadas. En su paso por Hogwarts tuvo momentos de besarse con chicas y después no hablarles nunca más, así que quizás tuvo por ahí un ex-fling y así. Me gustaría conseguirle más amigues, aunque probablemente cueste que le tenga confianza a cualquier persona, es sin duda algo a desarrollar. Como con todos, estoy abierta a lo que se les pueda ocurrir.

𝐝𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞

48 años, sangre pura. Trabaja como sanador en San Mungo. Está soltero. Fue parte de Ravenclaw durante su paso por Hogwarts hace mil años atrás. Actualmente, es miembro de la Orden del Fénix.

✧. ¿Usted quiere un mentor? Este es el señor que está buscando. Dedalus es creativo, es muy inteligente y es muy pedagógico, incluso le enseña a los sanadores más jóvenes, así que eso es algo que se le da muy bien.

✧. Es mucho mayor que gran parte de los personajes y eso puede generar una barrera, pero también hace interesante la idea de poder entablar amistades/enemistades ( más amistades sí, sería raro verlo beefing con alguien que podría ser su hije, además que no es muy lo suyo ). Particularmente con los personajes de la Orden/quienes trabajen en San Mungo, sería interesante establecer relaciones/tramas. Y, obviamente como con todos mis personajes, Dedalus se encuentra disponible si creen que les serviría para sus personajes, siempre dispuesta a hablarlo.

#☽. 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 – ooc talks.#me da vergüenza la cantidad de tiempo que me demoré armando esto JAJAJAJJA

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meetmeafftcrdark · 6 months ago

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– Está despejado, no hay cosas en frente, ni personas más altas... –enumeró sus razones para escoger ese punto en específico. Se volvió hacia el contrario, con una gran sonrisa, tan típica de Hookum– ¡Por supuesto! No puedo tener este lugar sólo para mí –su vista viajó entonces a la niña– ¿Estás emocionada por los fuegos artificiales? –preguntó con amabilidad.

—¿Te parece? —Pidió su opinión. Esperaba que su hija disfrutara del espectáculo. Echó un vistazo a su alrededor y pronto al cielo—. Está despejado —así que también podía observar la luna—. ¿Podemos quedarnos aquí? —Le preguntó a la contraria, dado que había llegado primero.

#entendí que la hija está ahí #pero si entendí mal me avisas y yo lo cambio #(el resfrío me tiene idiota JAJAJJA)#☽. 𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐮𝐦 – the pen's in my hand ; ending unplanned / interaction.#☽. int: daisy & michael.#cxpectopatronum

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coffeehighallthetime-blog · 2 years ago

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I am Kind Not Complacent Chpt 2

I am Kind not Complacent chpt 2

{prev},{next}

Heimdall gow x reader

word count: 6 k

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hello and thank you to every single person who has liked, commented, and reblogged my silly little story. I'm so glad I can make a few people smile and share my little fic. if anyone would like me to tag them to make finding the next chapter easier in the future please don't be afraid to ask!

as always, enjoy and have fun reading!

@engardeitsme as always, love bouncing ideas off and getting to share stuff with you before I post it! thank you for helping again! @lunaryasha @nokolla I hope you enjoy Thank you so much for your support and kind words <3

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As YN got closer to the training grounds, Her limbs got ridged and her steps were more sluggish.

“Um, Mal?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t think I can do this.” She froze in her tracks, whimpering as Mal tried to move her forward. She sighed and grabbed hold of the girl’s arm. YN leaned against her pulling, digging her heels into the mossy floor. “I-I mean I’ve only fought to get away, I don’t know anything about combat!” she looked up at Mal pleading, Her cheeks going rosy in embarrassment, “A-and I don’t know these people…” Mal huffed, looking back at Thor and Heimdall as they seemed to be waiting for YN, getting more and more annoyed the longer she took to get there.

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice really, do you? No come on, I'll introduce you. But you need to act properly. They are the Aesir princes and as someone under Asgard they now rule over you as well, you should know,” Mal tried to encourage the girl while also pressing it was important not to keep the princes waiting, “I’m sure they won’t go hard on you, dear little thing.”

“Oh? Are they nice?” YN asked, a bit hopeful. Mal looked at her as if she had grown a second head.

“Ni-? No, they’re princes. But you’re so small and sweet, so they may lose interest in you. Where did you say you were from again?”

“Vanaheim.”

“...Mmh,” Mal just hummed, now getting s bit nervous herself for the girl.

YN frowned at Mal’s lack of help. She almost felt like she was going to throw up. Meeting new people? who were mean? And she had to spare with them?

“B-but why do I have to? Why now? I-I just got here, d-don’t you think-”

“Ah ah ah, don’t you go doing that negotiating thing. I saw what you did at breakfast. Now let’s hurry on, I rather not keep the Aesir princes waiting.” YN swallowed thickly, looking down at her feet as she allowed Mal to drag her the rest of the way. They stopped at the edge of the sparing area, where the dirt had gone wet and muddy from constant trampling. Thor quickly blocked a hit from young Heimdall and looked over at Mal and the girl.

“Lord Thor, Lord Heimdall,” Mal lowered her head and put her hand on YN’s head to elicit a bow as well. “This is YN, a guest of the All-Father’s. She is to train with you today for an introduction to Aesir's fighting tactics.”

“Took you long enough, come here, I don’t have all day.” Thor didn’t even glance an eye at Mal, his focus purely on YN who gulped as he pointed to a spot at his feet. Heimdall didn’t even spare her a glance as he made his way to the opposite side of the circle across from Thor. YN felt Mal give her one more nudge as she finally moved to stand in front of the thunder god.

“I will take my leave,” Mal stated, before turning back towards the great lodge. YN tightened her fists as she watched Mal retreat. Thor crossed his arms as the girl stood in front, craning her neck up at him. She gulped and dipped into a deep bow. ‘Just introduce yourself, don’t speak too much, and maybe this won’t be so bad. Maybe they’ll go easy if I’m polite.’ YN thought she heard a scoff come from behind her at the thought. But that was impossible.

“Hello, my name is YN of Vanaheim and I am the goddess of peace. I was brought here to-” She peeked up at the sound of Thor clicking his tongue in annoyance or boredom, she wasn’t sure. She swallowed thickly, focusing on her feet, “U-um to be of assistance in some way t-to the All-Father?”

Yn gasped at a sudden large hand on her shoulder, roughly twisting her to face the blond boy on the other side of the sparing circle, and nearly tripped into the mud as she was shoved forward.

“Quickly, let’s see where you are. Heimdall, keep her face intact. We don’t want to be scolded by Father, do we?” YN could almost hear the smirk in Thor’s voice and tried not to show her fear as the boy in front of her picked up two swords, the blades dulled for training. He tossed one to the girl and she caught it before it hit the ground, surprised at the weight of it. YN was shocked as the boy seemed to disappear from in front of her and yelped as she was kicked sharply in the back, skidding in the mud but staying on her feet. She whipped around to see Heimdall starting to circle her, smirking with his lips but glaring at her intensely.

“Gods you pathetic. ‘Maybe I’ll go easy if you’re polite’? Ha!” he laughed sarcastically, before sneering and rushing YN. She moved quickly to try and block, their swords straining against each other as he leaned in, overpowering her easily.

“Wh-what are you talking about?” Her eyes widened as she processed his words. What would happen if she failed? Would she be shunned again, would she be shut out? Didn’t she want to go home? Why did the thought of isolation suddenly scare her so much?

She thought of how to get out of the stalemate, wanting to parry and jump back to put some distance so she could have more options. But as she moved to do so, Hiemdall was quick to twist her around and shove her back from him. While she stumbled, her back turned, he moved quickly again, grabbing her by a fistful of hair and kneeing her hard in the ribs.

“And thinking we could ever get along? That you’ll ever belong here? Don’t make me laugh. Crawl on your belly like a dog and maybe I’ll tell the All-Father to send you back to your hovel in one piece, Vanir scum.” there was venom in his voice. Even at this young age, godly strength knocked the air out of her and she sputtered, coughing up drops of blood onto his once pristine tunic. He scoffed in disgust and pushed her back. Her mind raced as her vision blurred. She dissected the situation, his movements, reaction time, and words. She caught her breath, feeling him approach again behind her, and whipped around, knocking him in the brow with the hilt of her sword. Heimdall stumbled back in a daze and stared at the girl in disbelief. He wasn’t planning on retaliation, so he had stopped reading her movements.

He watched her as she panted, her face contouring into a snarl as she squared her shoulders and changed her stance from submissive to feral; like a beast trying to get away from a hunter. Desperate, scared, angry.

“That’s a dirty trick,” she growled out, straightening to stare into his eyes, “you have some nerve crawling into spaces you’re not welcome.” he was caught off guard by the statement, shocked that she had found him out so quickly. Thor meanwhile just rolled his eyes on the sidelines, thinking his brother was a fool for talking too much and revealing his hand so easily. Heimdall flushed in embarrassment as he heard Thor’s thoughts prodding into his head and growled, lunging in frustration. YN was able to narrowly dodge and the two circled each other.

“You catch on fast,” Heimdall offered with a sneer.

“You talk too much,” YN bit back, guarding her body just in time as Heimdall attacked again.

Thor noticed the following pattern:

Heimdall would always attack first, getting a few good hits in. he moved fast, and precise; then got cocky and didn’t remember to put space between him and his opponent. He had a bad habit at his young age of underestimating enemies and didn’t use his foresight as fluidly as he should be,(or so Odin thought, and told Thor to push him harder.)

YN was the opposite. She seemed to almost run away, backing away and refusing to keep her eyes off her opponent for as long as possible, and constantly whipping around to try and keep up. She would try to defend herself, taking a slash to the arm, or leg while protecting her core, and when Heimdall got careless she would go in to retaliate. Her movements were hard-hitting and violent, going for jabs hard enough to push Heimdall across the field or knock the air out of his lungs. That said, she was precise in her own way. Thor also noticed that as Heimdall seemed not to care where he hit the girl, aiming for arteries, joints, and soft spots; she only aimed for places that would discombobulate him, throw him off balance, and put space between them. Thor stroked his beard in thought, calling out to Heimdall.

“You need to use your powers, Heimdall,” He scolded, “you underestimate too much, and you need to do so quickly, process the information, and act accordingly.”

“Underestimate?” Heimdall scoffed and dropped his stance to stifle a sarcastic laugh. YN stiffened at the mockery and growled.

“Well, what kind of god who can read minds lets his opponent land hits on him?” She barked, blocking another attack and ducking to elbow him in the side. Heimdall was quick to pary and kicked against the length of her sword, knocking her off balance.

“Maybe you just think yourself too highly. What is a goddess of peace supposed to be able to do in a real fight? You haven’t attacked me once! Goddess of pushovers more like!” He cackled, nearly doubling over. YN dropped her stance, her cheeks searing red in anger and embarrassment.

“Try goddess of logic and tactic, you oaf!” Her heart pounded in her ears as her anger started to rise. She wanted to stand up for herself. She wanted to reason with him. She wanted to rip his tongue out from his teeth and-

“Ooh! Such snark! Not very peaceful of you, Queen Kindness ~”

“I’m warning you!” ‘Be calm. Be calm. Be calm. Don’t let your anger get the best of you. It will only end badly. Just breath.’

“Oh or what? You’ll sign a peace treaty? Bake me a cake? Cry and beg for forgiveness?” Heimdall was almost out of breath from laughter, and YN saw red. Suddenly time stood still as Heimdall’s laughter was cut off by a mound of mud flying into his face. YN watched satisfied as the dirt dripped down his chin and smeared down the front of his tunic.

Thor snorted and threw his head in laughter as he watched Heimdall swipe his hand down his face, his fiery pink eyes searing holes into the girl's face.

“I told you to shut up!” she shouted, She reeled her hand back with another pile of mud. Heimdall dodged, running at her full force and grabbing her face, slamming her down into the mud.

“You repulsive little worm.” he snarled, watching her sink into the ground under his weight. With her face still covered under his palm, she blindly grabbed another fistful and slammed it into the side of his head, knocking him off of her and deafening him in one ear momentarily. Thor was wheezing, doubled over the fence. YN stood slowly, the weight of water and dirt seeped into her clothes and hair dragging her down. She looked down at her grimy hands and shook them once, spraying mud and hitting Heimdall with droplets of muck.

“I don’t bake cake” she stated, smearing mud off her face nonchalantly. “But you’ll find I’m quite good at mud pies,” She smirked as Heimdall shook his head, regaining his senses. The next three minutes were full of pure chaos.

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“ Sire, are you certain that Lord Thor and Lord Heimdall were the best suited for the job of testing the girl’s abilities?” A man with curved horns spoke, walking a foot behind Odin at all times.

“Of course. Heimdall and her are nearly the same age, so it’s a fair fight wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes sir, but Heimdall is young and doesn’t know how to hold back at times. That with his fighting prowess and Thor’s…buffoonery, may cause a bit of disastrous cocktail.” Odin laughed at Mimir’s statement, holding his belly.

“I always appreciate your bluntness, dear friend!” Odin regains his composure with a sigh, still smiling slightly. “That may be true, but I need Heimdall to read the girl’s mind. And because he is progressing so slowly, he still needs to be close and be able to concentrate, making the whole ordeal less than ideal. And Thor? He’s just grounded and I knew he would hate the job of babysitting.” Mimir frowned at this, not sure why Odin was so carefree about having his two most hot-headed sons be with their new guest. “ I fear Tyr or Baldur would go far too easy on the poor creature. I need results quickly to see where she stands. I just hope they haven’t beaten her too badly.”

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Mud flew in every direction, both from wads being thrown at each other, or residual splatter from tackling each other into the ground and wrestling each other like feral little goblins.

“Ugh!! You are such a little weasel!” YN screamed as Heimdall managed to slip behind her, shoving mud down the back of her shirt, but not before she flipped around and tackled him to the ground, shaking his shoulders violently and slamming him into the mud. He growled, his eyes glowing as he flipped her over, pinning her to the ground under his hips and yanking her hair, smearing it with dirt.

“Oh yeah!? Well, you’re nothing but a squawking raven!”

YN reached up, yanking at Hiemdall’s mud-caked hair, pulling so they flipped and rolled across the floor. Heimdall elbowed her in the eye. She yelped and punched him in the nose, pinning him to the ground, and closed the gap between them. Her hands found home around his throat and she didn’t feel herself squeeze, tighter, tighter, tighter. Heimdall gasped for air, kneeing her in her already bruised ribs. She screamed out in pain, her grip loosening and Heimdall threw her off, making her skid into the mud, curling up in pain as her side throbbed.

“Hey, alright, that’s enough,” Thor called, getting closer to the two, still chuckling at the state of his brother. Heimdall heaved, grabbing a sword that lay forgotten in the mud.

“Heimdall, come on, put the sword down,” Thor spoke firmly this time, reaching to grab the sword, Heimdall yanked free of his hold and trudged over, raising the sword above his head to swing down, YN nursed her side and prepared to dodge and tackle him again.

“Heimdall!”

“ What is the meaning of this!?” A voice boomed, making the children both freeze. YN watched as Heimdall’s eyes widened in horror, dropping the sword and stepping away from her immediately, getting down on one knee in the mud and bowing his head, eyes screwed to the ground. Thor followed, not even the hint of a smile on his face anymore. YN finally looked up, seeing Odin approaching with a scowl on his face, followed by a man with curved horns atop his head, his eyes shining with what looked like opals.

Odin turned immediately to Thor, his arms crossed and his foot tapping as he waited impatiently for an answer. Thor straightened, deciding to look at the children instead of his father.

“They were just sparing, All-Father. Nothing but some roughhousing.”

“Roughhousing?” Mimir drawled out as he walked closer to YN. “They’re covered head to toe in filth. And this one’s eye is swollen shut!” He grabbed YN's face to get a good look at the bruising. He tutted and walked over to Heimdall, looking him over as well. Heimdall winced as the man checked his nose. “Oh lovely,” he spoke sarcastically, looking back at Thor and Odin. “his nose is broken!”

Odin sighed, bordering on a groan as he pinched the bridge of his nose. YN couldn’t explain it but despite what only looked like mild frustration, there seemed to be electricity in the air. She was not blind to the way Heimdall seemed to cower under his father’s gaze, and Thor seemed so small all of a sudden in the All-Father’s presence. The way everyone reacted to him unnerved YN and she hated the feeling of tension closing in on everyone.

“Boys, I told you to train her, not maim her. Mimir helps her up, will you?”

Mimir gently grabbed her arm, helping her to stand, and walked her over to Odin’s side.

“ S-sir it was my fault. I-I’m no good at fighting! I fought desperately and my temper got the better of me, I’m deeply truly sorry.” She tried to reason. Heimdall peaked up at her, confused as to why she would bother to take the blame. She didn’t know him or his brother. Didn’t she know what would happen if she spoke out of turn? Heimdall couldn’t help the pang of jealousy he felt at the way his father acted towards the girl. How his voice softened. Was she manipulating him? Heimdall tried reading her mind but he was still dazed from the scuffle the two had had.

Odin cut off the girl’s apologies by holding his hand up, shushing her silently.

“ I won’t hear it. You are a guest and in a strange new land. You were taken from your home and told to fight without any time to understand what was going on. I simply wasn’t thinking. And for that, I am sorry. I was supposed to come here to introduce you and watch you spar, not fight! But I thought to myself, ‘Surely my sons will do well in some friendly competition. I mustn’t worry so much!’ Isn’t that what I said, Mimir?”

“Yes, sir.” Mimir nodded, but YN felt his hand tense against her shoulder. Odin nodded and scowled at Heimdall and Thor, shaking his head with a sigh.

“But I suppose I was wrong to trust them with such a simple task.” YN was caught off guard as she felt Odin’s hand rest on her head.

“Are you alright, child?” YN looked up at him and nodded meekly. He smiled and pushed the girl over towards the two still bowing in the dirt. “Get up.” They stood quickly. Thor looked his father in the eyes, while Heimdall struggled to do the same, his hands squeezed tight at his sides. Odin nudged the girl forward. “I’d like all three of you to apologize to each other.”

At this, the girl immediately bowed, apologizing for letting things get out of hand. Now that her anger had subsided all she felt was anxiety at the tension in the air. YN wanted nothing more than to apologize and hopefully get along with everyone. She turned to Thor and looked up with big round eyes.

“ I apologize, Lord Thor, for not paying better attention to your encouragement and advice, and instead letting my nerves take over. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to teach me.” Thor let out a harumph, looking away. But then sighed and lowered his head in a passive bow.

“Yeah… sorry I didn’t keep a better eye on you both.” Odin scoffed, not satisfied but knowing that was the best he’d get out of Thor. He looked down at Heimdall expectantly, who just seemed to be frozen in place. Yn stuck out her hand as a peace offering.

“I’m deeply sorry, Lord Heimdall. I hope I didn’t hurt you too badly.” Heimdall tsked at the statement and didn’t move. YN looked him in the eyes and he heard her thoughts.

‘I know you can hear me. Shake my hand, and play along. Unless you want to get in more trouble.’ He clicked his tongue in annoyance but with the nudge of her thought and the searing eyes of his father, he grabbed her hand and shook it.

“No my…lady…” he strained with a smile, his brow twitching “The fault is mine for thinking you could withstand a fight with me. I must remember that you are a woman, and therefore, weak and delicate. Like a baby bird,” She smiled back, squeezing his hand so tight that the tip of her fingers turned white.

‘I’ll show you delicate, you little weasel.’She thought, her brow twitching as she pried her hands away and noticed him flex his hand subtly at his side to subside the aching of her anaconda squeeze.

“There, see? All better now! Mimir, take our guest to the infirmary will you?” Mimir nodded, guiding YN away. When they were out of earshot, Odin’s smile disappeared and he looked at his sons expectantly.

“What have you learned?”

“She is reactive in her fighting.” Thor started his report, “ only attacking after her opponent makes a move. Otherwise, she’s a bit of a chicken shit. Kept running away from Heimdall until the only choice was to fight back.”

“Hn…” Odin looked down at the younger boy. “So she was trying to run away and you still ended up like this? Honestly, Heimdall.”

“B-but father-“

“ I don’t want to hear it.” Heimdall shut his mouth stiffly. Odin repeated his original question, directing all his attention to Heimdall. The boy swallowed thickly and remembered her thoughts and the way they rushed one after the other.

“She…she’s a goddess, and she’s from Vanaheim. She wanted to avoid fighting me, kept trying to find a way to introduce herself, and thought being polite would stop me from hurting her. She kept trying to calm herself down, so I provoked her to see where she would go from there. She’s hotheaded and immature. I don’t think she can be trusted. You should just send her back.” Heimdall fidgeted as he spoke and Odin lost his patience, grabbing the boy’s chin roughly to look up at him.

“Unfortunately that’s not in the cards just yet, son. She’s a child, and a goddess, therefore powerful and unpredictable. We need to keep an eye on how she grows and see if we can use her for the betterment of Asgard before one of our enemies finds her and uses her against us. You understand, don’t you?” Odin squeezed Heimdall’s chin as he posed the question. Heimdall whimpered slightly at the pain of Odin’s bony fingers digging into his skin and just barely was able to nod. Odin abruptly released his son, smiling brightly. “Good. So then, anything that we can use to get her to trust us? Get her to work with us?” Heimdall nodded again, reaching up to rub his sore chin.

“She’s very lonely and pathetic…, which you can use to gain her trust, All-Father. She seems passive in her solutions but she is also quick to anger and frustration so it would be important to keep that in mind during any negotiations…”

Odin looked down at his son, taking in the information. He hummed in satisfaction and nodded.

“ alright. Good. I can work with that.” With that, Odin turned to walk away, paused, and spared Heimdall a glance over his shoulder. “Clean yourself up. You’re filthy.”

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“What’s his problem, anyway? Is everyone in Asgard as… volatile?” YN asked as Mimir prepared an ice pack for her. He snorted and shook his head.

“Heimdall is a special cocktail of issues, lass. Best to keep away from him. He’s a spoiled little prince, and I’m afraid the way he’s going it will only get worse.” He walked over to her with a white cloth. He dipped it in a bowl of warm water, rang it out, and pressed it to the girl’s swollen eye. She hissed, pulling away slightly, but Mimir kept her head gently in place, blotting the wound. “Stay still, I know it stings but I need to get all the dirt and blood off.” YN stayed tense but allowed Mimir to clean the wound. There was silence in the room, save for the slow trickle of water from the towel being run out every once in a while. YN interrupted the quiet.

“Are you allowed to say that about the princes?” She asked meekly, looking up at Mimir with her good eye. He raised a brow, dipping the cloth in the water again and going back to cleaning.

“Are you going to rat me out?” He posed, grabbing the ice he had prepared and holding it up to her face. YN shook her head slightly and smiled as Mimir simply shrugged, “Then I have nothing to worry about. Besides, my loyalties lie with the All-Father, not his band of brats. Like I said, best to just keep away.” YN thought for a moment and shook her head, holding the ice to her face as Mimir walked away to grab some medicine for the cuts on her face.

“That doesn’t seem right. Why should they be able to do whatever they want at the expense of others? Because they’re royalty? They should be held to even higher standards considering the power they have.”

“What we think is right and what will end up happening are two different things. Best to forget the whole thing to save yourself the disappointment.”

“And who taught you that? Was it the All-Father?” Mimir stilled, seeming to be in deep thought. YN pouted, guilty at the tension she had caused.“ I-I’m sorry.” Mimir shook his head, a smile returning to his face.

“It’s alright. It’s just… you’re quite forward for a young goddess in a new place.” YN frowned at that. She wasn’t really sure how she was supposed to be acting. She had spent so long working off instinct, that it may have made her a bit blunt in her words and actions. Mimir let the silence hang as she fidgeted with her ice pack before deciding to elaborate.

“… I’m not from here… Asgard, I mean. Hel, I’m not even from the 9 realms.” He looked back at YN and chuckled as she straightened her posture, her interest peaked. “ I’m a Fae, a Goodfellow. I used to be a fool to a Celtic faerie king.” He got a faraway look in his eye, as he slowed the grinding of herbs. She swung her feet as she waited for him to continue, tilting her head in curiosity. “What’s a Fae? What’s Celtic?” Mimir snorted at this, shaking his head.

“That’s too long a story. The point is that I’m an outsider, like you. And I wasn’t happy where I was so I left… things may seem rough here, but they are better than they were. That’s what I hold onto. This is all new to you, and new is strange. The All-Father told me a bit about your background. Going from complete isolation to being surrounded by people and sparing lessons is a lot, and I apologize for your rushed introduction to Asgard thus far.”

Yn nodded, thinking about her own home. There was nothing for her there, really. And though Heimdall and Thor were less than pleasant and Odin had not yet shown he could be fully trusted, there were already things YN felt would be hard to let go of. The food she was able to eat here, the feeling of a warm bed and a crackling fire, the sound of people moving to and fro in the morning. The sound of people living around her, unbothered.

“ Odin called you Mimir…that means wise one doesn’t it?”

“ yes. I am Mimir, the smartest man alive.” He said proudly. He saw as the girl raised her brow in confusion and chuckled, “I am the ambassador of the gods and the nine realms, I know every corner of the realms, everything that has happened, every language spoken, every moment in time past now.” YN’s eyes widened in awe, to meet someone who claimed to know so much of the world after she had been isolated from it for so long, it made her mind soar. YN pulled the ice from her eye and balled her hands together in anxious excitement.

“ Would you… Would you be able to teach me? Please?!” She pleaded, nearly shaking with excitement. Mimir pretended to think about it, stroking his beard.

“ Oh? I dunno, it’s a lot of information I’d be throwing at you. Could be a bit boring.”

“Yes, that’s what I want! I want to learn about the realms, I want to help build connections, That’s what Odin said I’d be able to do here! Will you please teach me, Mimir?”

The truth was, he was tasked with keeping an eye on the girl and taking her under his wing. Odin wanted him to teach her about the relations of Asgard to the rest of the realms and see if she could aid in Mimir and Tyr’s growth of Agard’s connections. He looked back down at the girl, guilt buried at the back of his mind. She was only here to be used. But then, weren’t they all in some way?

“I suppose I could use an apprentice. But don’t whine when you feel you're being thrown over the deep end.”

“Yes!” she cheered, hopping off the table. She bowed deeply, before looking back up at the man with a hopeful smile. “Thank you, Mr. Mimir. I hope that your teachings allow me to be more useful, so that I may continue to stay here. Maybe my first day was hard, but I’m sure I can find my place here.” She beamed, the pain of her wounds already subsiding thanks to godlike healing and the creams that had been applied. She runs to the exit, hoping to find Mal. She wanted to tell her about her fight with Heimdall and tease her for being too scared to stay and watch.

“Oi, wait, your eye! I need to put this on it!”

“I’ll be fine! I have to go! Thank you again, Mimir!” she gathered her things, a new skip in her step.

“Ah ah ah, at least take it with you.” He grabbed her by the shoulder, handing her a metal tin with the cream he had made with the crushed herbs and some bandages. “The great hall! Tomorrow at 6 am. Do not be late!” he barely got it out before she left, the heavy door slamming behind her.

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The sun had set in Asgard and YN was on her way back to her room from supper with Mal, who had apologized for leaving in a hurry and gave her an extra serving of potatoes as a sorry.

YN yawned with a stretch. The swelling in her eye had gone down, but the bruising was now a deep yellow and purple. Mimir had also found out she had two broken ribs, but with the ointment and bandages he had applied, the girl felt fine and knew they would be fine by morning.

YN was about to retire for the night, walking to her door, when she heard a loud hiss come from across the hall. She quirked a brow at the sound and turned. Dim candlelight flickered from under the door and YN walked over at the subtle sound of a pained groan.

“Hello? Are you ok in there?” She asked with a knock. There was silence for a beat, and she knocked again, “Hello?” The person on the other side clicked their tongue in annoyance and YN could hear the loud screech of a chair dragging across the wooden floor. The door swung open and YN was met face-to-face with Heimdall, scowling with a blood-stained handkerchief over his nose. She tilted her head in confusion.

“What the Hel do you want?” he grumbled, but his voice was slightly nasily because of his broken nose. YN had started to regret ever knocking but quirked a brow and pointed at his handkerchief.

“You’re still bleeding.”

“No! Really?” Heimdall gasped in fain surprise.

“ I didn’t know we lived across the hall from each other.” She spoke again, ignoring his rudeness. Heimdall rolled his eyes and went to slam the door in her face.

“Seriously, just get out.” She held her hand up to stop the door from fully closing. “What the- hey! I said, "Get out!”

“Why didn’t you go to the infirmary?”

“Tsk! Are you serious? I’m not a baby, I don’t need bandages and a cookie for staying still.” YN just rolled her good eye at the statement, pushing further against the door. “Hey!”

“You know we heal too fast for you to leave that alone. Your cartilage is going to grow back crooked.” Heimdall’s eyes widened at that, but he frowned as he looked away.

“That’s not true. You're lying.”

“Why would I lie about your nose growing back crooked?” YN watched him fidget in place. It didn’t take a genius to know that he cared about his vanity. The bright white shirts with gold trim and intricate braids in his hair when she first saw him were enough of a hint. And despite everything, she still wanted to make peace, if not to become friends then to at least have to worry less about being tackled at a moment's notice. Heimdall groaned in defeat, knowing she was right.

“ Alright, fine then. What do you suggest I do, pestering raven?” YN sighed at yet another insulting name and crossed her arms.

“ May I come in?” She asked, annoyance obvious in her voice. Heimdall frowned but opened his door wider. Yn walked in and noticed the room was nearly the same as hers, save for a vanity in the corner of the room with the chair pushed back. She grabbed the back of it, dragged it over to the bed, and sat down, turning to Heimdall and patting the spot on the bed across from her. He shut the door and trudged over, sitting across so that their knees touched.

“Can you move the handkerchief?” Heimdall hesitated but slowly did so, his face showing discomfort as he removed pressure. His nose had in fact already started to bend slightly and YN couldn’t help the concerned hiss she let out. “ I really am sorry…”

“ Whatever. Just fix it.” His bright eyes glared through her.

“ I’ll have to break it again.”

“Like hel you will!”

“OK, if you don’t mind a deep bend at your bridge.”

“… fine.”

“What was that?”

“ I said fine already!”

She just nodded with a smirk, touching at the soft cartilage, and pressing it into place. Heimdall winced and tensed at each prod, his hands squeezed tight on his thighs.

“If you keep scrunching your face, this won’t work.”

“Well, it hurts! You're doing it on purpose.”

“ I am not. Do you want a towel to bite down on?”

“ Shut up- ow! Hey!”

“OK, take a deep breath, This one is gonna be the worst but it should open up both nostrils so you can breathe better.”

“H-how do you even know what you're doing is right?”

“ I’ve been alone for a long time. I’ve always had to heal myself. And I’ve fallen on my face many times, my nose looks pretty good if I do say so myself.” She smirked slightly at him as he only gulped. YN grabbed the bridge of his nose and when he braced himself, she twisted her hand sharply, effectively knocking a piece of cartilage that had grown crooked out of place. Heimdall screamed as blood rushed out his nose. He brought the handkerchief back up to his face.

“Are you crazy?!”

“If I didn’t do that, your nose would have looked like a tree branch. Keep pressure on that for a moment.”She pulled the small tin from her pocket. “Look, Mimir gave me this to apply to my eye and ribs before going to bed. It will help with the pain.” She grabbed some bandages that were tucked in her pocket and ripped them into two strips, rolled them up into tight coils, and dipped the ends into the concoction. “Take that off, please. The bleeding should have stopped, and this will stop the soreness.” YN had started to think the boy’s brows were permanently knitted together in annoyance by this point as he moved the kerchief from his face. YN quickly pushed the wads of bandage up his nose to keep the cartilage from collapsing and to promote healing in the correct direction. That being said, he looked ridiculous and she couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of her mouth. His face went red and he pushed her chair away from him with his boot.

“ Alright, you’re done, right? Get out.” he hopped off the bed, pushing her towards the door.

“W-wait a minute, do you think we could-” she gasped as she was shoved out the door, but twisted and jammed her foot before it could slam. Heimdall let out an exaggerated growl, throwing his head back.

“Gods- now what do you want?” she swallowed thickly and offered a small bow.

“My name is YN, goddess of logic, tactic and peace. I will be staying across the hall from you. I hope we can learn to get along.” She stood back straight and smiled nervously. Heimdall pulled together a sickly sweet grin.

“I am Heimdall, god of foresight, and my time is too precious to be wasted on you. Good night.” And with that, he swung the door wide open before slamming it in the girl's face. YN winced and then sighed in defeat, fidgeting with her hands.

“Good night…” she called softly back through the door. At no response, she turned toward her room to retire for the night. Maybe the next day would be better.

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