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grievedeeply · 4 months

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the less time, the better. pt 8.

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pairing: heimdall x gn!reader

summary: still reeling from the events of what happened on niflheim, you grapple with having heimdall by your side while surrounded by people who hate him.

notes: thank you all so much for the continued love and support on this silly little series. this is taking so long because i fluctuate in and out of my god of war obsession.. so i'm very sorry for making you all wait forever lol. tagged everyone who was tagged last time, but if you're no longer interested please let me know! thank you again and please enjoy this chapter and the canon divergences <3

your father didn't know who he was at first— heimdall. he stared at him with narrowed eyes for a few moments then turned his attention back to you, his gaze softening as soon as he did so. you could feel his presence behind you. you could tell he felt out of place, scared.. these people, this man standing in front of him was the one who killed his brother, his nephews. even if he was never particularly close to them in the first place.. they all meant something to someone, didn't they?

did he? did he mean something to anyone? if kratos killed him right then and there.. would someone back in asgard care? would his father mourn him?

he shoved the thought out of his head and kept focused on the task at hand. the man in front of him had yet to pull out a weapon, so he didn't either. instead, his eyes drifted to you, only for you to be looking at him already.

"who is this?" your father's voice rang out in the silence, echoing throughout the branches of the yggdrasil. "that's.. uh," you chuckled awkwardly, lips pressed together in a thin line as you turn your focus back to him. "let's get home first, yeah?" you changed the subject, deciding that having him sit down for this whole conversation would be better than having it here.

he only grunted, still eyeing him suspiciously.

deciding to take the initiative, you gestured for him to follow after you. he was stuck here now, at least for the time being, and you know odin would want him back. with him at sindri's.. you had a feeling that the environment would be far from a calm one. you wanted to groan at that realization. why did you have to reach out to him like that? it would've been fine if he was still there!

the gateway door opened and you walked through, the feeling of warmth washing over you as you did so. heimdall followed after you and your father came close behind, his eyes still focused on him.

this would be awkward, and this would be horrible. what kind of reasonable explanation was there for an aesir god to be here? you supposed the only thing to do was tell the truth and hope that they would understand. but would they, really? heimdall wasn't their friend. they didn't know him like you did.

they didn't see that vulnerable side of him that you saw back on niflheim. that conversation replayed over and over in your mind as you pushed the door open to sindri's house. this would be horrible, you told yourself.. but you'd get through it. you got through everything.

"y/n!" you heard atreus' voice approach you, arms immediately wrapping around you as you got inside. you chuckled, returning his hug after recovering from the impact of him running at you. "i missed you," you told him, pulling away enough to look at him. "i missed you-" he cut himself off, brows furrowing as his eyes shifted from you to heimdall, who looked incredibly uncomfortable by this entire situation.

"who's that?" he asked, looking back at you. he pulled away, tilting his head as he took in heimdall's appearance. his eyes widened as he settled on the horn on his back and he turned his head to look at you once more. "don't-" you cut him off before he could say anything else, lips pursed into a fake smile. he blinked a few times and let out a sigh.

"heimdall?" freya's voice sounded out from across the house, hands on her hips as she walked towards you. you heard your father grunt again, in frustration this time. you expected he would have more to say about this whole thing, but he seemed suspiciously silent.

"frigg," heimdall spoke up for the first time since arriving on the branches of the yggdrasil. "don't call me that," she replied without missing a beat. "what is he doing here?" she asked you. you knew she had little personal history with him.. but she surely didn't like him all the same. anyone associated with odin was horrible in her book.

"i didn't mean to.. bring him with me," you muttered. by now, the entire house surrounded you. atreus had left to go pick up mimir from your father's room, knowing that he would want to watch whatever happened. "it was an accident, really." you sighed, scratching at the back of your neck.

"an accident?" sindri said. "it should've only been one person.." he murmured. you assumed it was directly only to himself than to you or anyone else as he eyed heimdall. "can he leave?" brok's voice rang out, arms crossed over his chest. "he ain't supposed to be here," he continued after a pause, referring to your obvious plan to kill odin. you were sure he knew about that already.

you let out a breath. this had been going better than you'd expected.

"no." you heard your father say from behind you, deep baritone echoing throughout the confines of the house. "we use him."

"what?" atreus asked, brows furrowed. in his hand, mimir seemed to already know what he was suggesting.

"we keep him here. begin ragnarok under our terms. use him as leverage."

heimdall laughed, shaking his head. "if you think the allfather will come for me, you'd be sorely mistaken."

it seemed like, in your time away from asgard, he had taken some time to think about his relationship with his father. had he finally realized that he only ever wanted to use him as a tool? he had never cared for him. did he know that, now?

"he will want the horn." your father muttered, eyes narrowing at heimdall as they had done so many times before. you swore you could see something fall in his eyes at the realization that he was right. he wouldn't want his son. he would want the horn.

he fell silent, clearly unhappy. there was a part of you that wanted to rub it in his face— the fact that you were right— but the other wanted to comfort him. you pushed the thought aside, your eyes focusing in on the rest standing around you.

sindri's expression was a wary one. an aesir, in his house? you were sure he hated the thought of it, but he didn't speak up to voice his concerns about it either. brok looked like he wanted to punch heimdall then and now and freya's expression almost matched his.

freyr had been suspiciously quiet the entire time, but that silence was quickly broken. "no," he laughed, shaking his head. "his family burned me alive." he held out his arms in front of him, eyes trailing down to look at his burnt skin that had never fully healed. "sorry, but no. it's a no from me." he said after a pause.

freya seemed torn on the whole idea. you knew she had only recently mended the relationship she had with her brother, and disagreeing could put another rift between them. she pursed her lips. "if he gets me closer to killing odin, so be it." she said.

"fine," mimir spoke. "but i won't like it!" he continued after a brief pause.

you heard tyr sigh from where he stood, his eyes studying heimdall who had still yet to say anything else since your father pointed out how odin would want the horn back. "this isn't a good idea," he settled on saying, eyes shifting over you and to your father who now stood next to you.

"i say we do it," atreus chimed in, cutting him off from saying anything else.

you felt their eyes on you, all waiting for your thoughts. your gaze trailed over to him, lips pursed. would it be better here for him? could he eventually be an ally? would he ever want to be? you could only imagine the turmoil he was dealing with in his mind. his bright purple eyes met yours briefly, and you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat.

"yeah, okay." you concluded, awkwardly looking around at everyone else. you could only hope that this was the right decision. a decision that led you and everyone else down the right path.

"that settles it, then!" brok exclaimed. "majority rules, he stays." he stated.

freyr looked uncomfortable and you felt bad for making him deal with this. you understood why he didn't want him around.. but he could help. he could, if he wanted to.

with the conversation concluded, everyone split apart, looking over their shoulder as if heimdall would attack them right then and there. you cleared your throat. the only people next to you now were him and your father.

"he's alright," you muttered. it was something you would never imagine saying when you first met him, but it was the truth. he was cocky and annoying and full of himself.. but he was alright. your thoughts drifted back to the moment you'd shared in niflheim, how he had looked at you as though you were the only person in the realms he cared about.

your father said nothing in response to you, his eyes now focused on the wall in front of him. you could only watch him walk away, your heart sinking as he did.

you couldn't help but to think you'd disappointed him.

before you could dig yourself into an even deeper hole, you turned your focus back to heimdall. he looked a little more grounded now and you had wondered what he was thinking about when the entire conversation was happening. you cleared your throat, chest feeling heavy at the entire situation.

"c'mon." you told him, gesturing for him to follow you. you led him out the front door and onto the branches of the yggdrasil again. everything felt much lighter than it did with your father.

"your father," he cut himself off, swallowing. "he is right, y'know. you were right." he murmured, gaze stuck onto the ground beneath his feet. "everything i did, i did to make him proud." he admitted with a sigh, looking up towards the endless purple above the two of you.

you had brought him to the garden on the side of the house, a place you spent a lot of time at before you ever went to asgard. "i know," you told him, turning your head to look at him. a sigh escaped your lips as you took his hand in your own.

"he wouldn't dream of coming for me." his voice fell to a whisper. "he wants.. the horn." he laughed in disbelief. "i dedicated my entire life to him and i got nothing in return. but why do i still feel.. "

"feel what?"

"guilty. for thinking this way." he replied after a pause.

"you shouldn't. you were.. manipulated, heimdall." his name fell from your lips easily, but he was always happy to hear you say it anyways. "he used you. it's what he does. he uses people." you continued. "but you're his son. it's.. not your fault, for believing that he loved you."

"he never loved me, did he?"

you pursed your lips, deciding to squeeze on his hand instead of saying anything else. in your eyes, the answer was no. odin loved power and he would do anything to get it, including using his own sons.

he shook his head. he still didn't want to believe it all, but he knew it was all true. your words had perhaps gotten through to him too well.

"hey," your voice cut him out of his thoughts and brought him back into reality. "you've got me, now." you hummed, a small smile forming on your lips as you met his eyes. there was something about your gaze that was playful, full of light. something that he needed— that he wanted.

still, he said nothing in response. with every second you spent with him you swore he let you in more. what happened to the less time, the better? you had practically lived off of that statement during your time in asgard. the less time you spent with heimdall, the better it was for you. you supposed the sentiment was still true. after all.. if he wasn't with you on niflheim, perhaps you would be here by yourself and you would never see heimdall again.

that wasn't what you wanted, was it?

it was crazy to think about how quickly your mind changed. he had wiggled his way into your thoughts first, and now he was making himself a home in your heart. a part of you still hated that.

you could only hope everyone else would get used to having him around.

"your father," he started, "he killed my family."

"i know." you replied.

"did you?" he asked.

you immediately knew what he was referring to. while you had no part in the deaths of magni or modi.. your part in baldur's was much bigger. while you didn't strike the killing blow you were certainly part of how he had gotten weak enough to get there.

"i was.. there," you told him. "i.. participated. i wasn't the one who killed him. but i was part of the reason why he died."

heimdall pursed his lips. it wasn't like your answer was surprising. he didn't even know why he cared so much. perhaps it was because baldur was younger than he was. perhaps it was because he had watched him grow up, he had grown alongside him, even. it wasn't like he was close to him. but he would be lying if he said his death didn't bother him.

maybe it bothered him so much because it meant ragnarok. it meant the end, and that scared him more than he would like to admit.

"not a day goes by where i don't think about him." you admitted. your words were truthful. you were certain you would never live a day without picturing his face in your mind. would you always feel as guilty as you do for your part in his death? the answer to it, you didn't know. but you had come to terms with that you had done all the same.

"i'm sure." he said in response, his back pressed up against the wall of sindri's house.

"i'm sorry i brought you here," you changed the topic, "i didn't mean to, really." you sighed.

"it's done now, isn't it?"

you supposed he was right. it was done now, and there was no changing the past.

"still. i'm sorry."

"if you hadn't taken me with you, do you know what i would be doing?" he asked, shifting his gaze to look at you from where he stood. you shook your head.

"i would be patrolling the wall, as i always do. and i would be thinking of you." he laughed, a smile forming on his lips. his grin looked like he was in disbelief. "i would be thinking of you, y/n. that is what i would be doing. but i don't have to do that now, because you brought me here." he breathed out.

"perhaps i should be the one thanking you." he chuckled.

you pressed your lips into a thin line. you thought back to that moment in the mess hall. it felt like forever ago, now. you had teased him, claiming he had feelings for you. t felt like he really did.

would you complain, if he did?

it would be difficult, given the fact that no one in your family was a fan of him. but if you liked him.. why would that matter? after all, your life is your own.

"sounds like you're in love with me." you decided to say, your voice taking on that same tone as it did in the mess hall. only now, it sounded more genuine. less playful and more curious.

"what if i was?" he asked in response, turning his entire body to look at you, now.

"i'd think you were lying."

"i'm not lying. i don't lie." he scoffed. "i do.. feel a certain way for you, y'know." he admitted, purple eyes meeting yours. you swore that you could get lost in them. they almost looked like the sky surrounding you now.

"do you?" you asked.

he nodded.

"i can prove it."

"oh, can you?" you laughed, rolling your eyes.

"would you like me to?" he asked, his voice matching your tone from earlier. suddenly.. this all felt much more serious.

"yeah, okay." you whispered to him.

your words were all he needed to take action. in one swift move, his hand came to rest on your hip and pulled you closer to him. his other hand caressed your cheek, and his lips pressed against yours.

you froze for a moment. 'is this really happening?' you thought to yourself, but it was— it was happening, and you liked that fact. after regaining your composure, you found yourself gripping onto the fabric of his shirt. as you ran your hand over it, you noticed a tear. sewn up now, but a tear, nonetheless.

this was the outfit that he was wearing the day he meant you. this was the shirt you cut through. the shirt that you embarrassed him in, and now the shirt he was kissing you in.

it wasn't very long, but it was enough. he pulled away with a sigh, but quickly pressed his forehead to yours, eyes opening to look at you.

"how is that for proof, hm?" he hummed. you could tell from his voice that he was trying to tease you. you rolled your eyes, shoving at him playfully.

what did this make you?

you didn't know.

maybe everything would be okay after all.

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#god of war x reader #gow x reader #god of war #gow #gow heimdall x reader #god of war heimdall x reader #heimdall x reader #heimdall gow x reader #heimdall #heimdall gow #heimdall god of war #god of war heimdall

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thecrimsonmusician · 1 year

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Just got the new God of War cookbook recently and oh my god?!?

Not only does it have a lot of lore but the recipes also look REALLY good.

It’s also written from Týr’s perspective which is just AHHH

Some game spoilers ahead:

I've read the whole thing and he talks about cooking for Kratos and Mimir and says that he’s heard great things about Atreus and can’t wait to meet him :’)

So I guess the real Týr actually does love to cook. That makes a lot of sense since Mimir never batted an eye when the fake Tyr offered to make meals. And he traveled all over the realms and to other pantheons so, of course, he likes sharing other cultures' cuisines.

It seems to be written post-Ragnarök which is interesting as he talks about speaking to Sindri and Brok. He may be speaking about the past since he says he's known the Huldra brothers for a long time. It gives me hope that Sindri will be able to recover from his grief and make amends with Kratos and Atreus. That may be wishful thinking but it would still be nice.

The way Týr gushes about different cultures is so wholesome. I love this man so much. :’) I hope he gets to cook to his heart's content now that he's free.

TLDR: I love this game way too much and I highly recommend the cookbook if you're a GOW fan.

#god of war ragnarok #god of war #gow ragnarok #tyr #tyr god of war #my posts #my thoughts #god of war ragnarok spoilers #kratos #mimir #brok #sindri #huldra brothers #yet another long rant from yours truly

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ratcandy · 1 year

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Actually nevermind being secret about it no I'm just completely demolished over Sindri. And the Huldra brothers in general. I will literally never recover Might just be my tendency to get overly attached to tragic lil men but good lird!

Sindri lost Brok three times!!! Once when he first died, another when they split after their arguments, and then. After being finally reunited, for a good few years, despite Sindri still constantly carrying the weight on his shoulders about Brok's missing soul piece... Brok is killed, right in front of him!! By a guy he was harboring in his house for weeks!!!! And can't be brought back this time!!!!!!!! AND WORSE, Mimir revealing that. without that missing soul piece, Brok doesn't even get an afterlife now. He's just gone. I just keep thinking about that. Horrified. Does Sindri know? Does he know the full extent of what he did by bringing Brok back to life that first time? Did he know, when he initially saved him, that he could be denying Brok any afterlife at all???? Or even that when Sindri himself dies he won't get to reunite with his brother??????

And Sindri was never even given the chance to tell Brok himself about what he did! Brok had to find out on his own!! My man had everything taken from him!!

Augghhdg. And the line from Atreus after Sindri essentially tells him to fuck off after taking away his only family. the fucking. "I thought we were family too." After Atreus refers to him and Brok as his "sort of uncles" earlier in the game. Only to lose both of them in one fell swoop. I hate it here.

The only and I'm talking the ONLY sense of closure this man was allowed to have was dealing the final blow to Odin. And I was so happy for him when he did. While Kratos, Freya and Atreus are passing around the soul like "No, killing him won't make us whole again" and all that nice character growth shit, Sindri just shows up and is like "then I'll fucking do it myself" and I LOVE that for him. Good for you. Fuck yeah

But it also just. It just still hurts the whole time. With Sindri covered in his brother's blood. Not wearing gloves. Not even caring anymore. Disheveled and a mess. Knowing how he was before all this. And how he's been so fucking broken down. I hate it here. I hate it here. I want Sindri back. I want him back how he was before. He was my funny germaphobe uncle who cracked silly jokes and made cool armor/weaponry. I want him back. I want his wholesome relationship with Atreus back. I want Sindri back. I don't like broken, silent, wrathful Sindri. I hate it here.

At the funeral. When Mimir finishes Brok's riddle as Sindri disappears. "A hole." Gets bigger the more you take away from it. I just immediately lost it and started punching the air. It was a metaphor for Sindri himself the whole time as he gradually loses everything he ever had. I hate you. Why would you do that. Who gave you that right. Fuck you

#clamtalk #gow spoilers #gow ragnarok #gow sindri #okay i'm done. i'm good now . sorry #these fuckers just put so much emotion in me and I. oug. The way Sindri wouldn't even HIDE his realm travel anymore #just disappearing. vanishing. in front of everyone.#how he looked like he was about to pass out or fall over while walking away from brok's funeral. saying absolutely nothing.#with everyone else in the game (save for kratos and his grief for faye) brushing by deaths around them so quickly #(i'm side-eying Freya and Freyr . and Sif/Thrud and Thor)#only for Sindri. The funny comic relief merchant from the 2018 game #being the most broken grief-stricken disaster by the loss of his brother at the end.#and NO CLOSURE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#i hate it here #god of war spoilers #ask to tag

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theunexplainable · 1 year

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Hi I was wondering if you could do a snippet of Atreus being well enough to be home but still bedridden, with Brok and Sindri babysitting him and Brok trying to be all tough and Sindri fussing over him but they are clearly struggling with the fact that they’re surrogate nephew is this sick

Im absolutely loving this prompt my dude! Did my best, hope you like it!

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"Atreus! What are you doing?! How did you get out here?!" Sindri yelped, rushing over to where his nephew sat at an outside table.

"My father carried me out here!" Atreus explained happily, unperturbed by Sindri's odd attitude. In the doorway to the backyard, Kratos grunted, seemingly a noise of agreement.

"And how do you plan to get back inside if your father's leaving for work?" Sindri questioned, crossing his arms over his chest.

Atreus stood up at that question. "I'll walk," he stated simply, grabbing the handle of his movable respirator and walking easily over to the door. The tiled path made it easy for Atreus to pull the respirator along, it also helped that it had wheels. Kratos turned away, walking into the kitchen and grabbing his suit jacket, which rested upon the dining chair that was neatly tucked into the dinner table. He pulled both arms through the sleeves just as Sindri helped Atrus get his respirator through the door, and then led Atreus to the couch, demanding he sit down.

"Don't be too harsh on the lad brother," Mimir said, trying to soothe the agitated gun mechanic.

"Yeah, the sac seed’s doing fine," Brok commented, sitting down beside Atreus.

Atreus smiled warmly, “Yeah Sin! I'm doing- “ Atreus’s attempts at reassuring the worried male were made fruitless as he was interrupted by a coughing fit. It wracked his small frame, startling Brok, and causing Kratos to pause his trip out of the door to make sure Atreus recovered, even as Mimir reassured him and pushed both of them out the door before closing it behind them.

“I'm fine, don’t worry!” Atreus rasped out, not wanting them to be worried about him, even if it was technically their job.

Sindri eyed the young boy nervously, watching Atreus’s chest as the respirator pumped oxygen in and out. Brok, although he didn’t show it, was also quite worried, they had never seen Atreus so sick, let alone know that he was sick. When Kratos asked them to babysit Atreus while he and Mimir went to business meetings, the brothers were ecstatic, Atreus had quickly become family to them in the little time they knew him. And being able to make sure he was doing okay seemed like a blessing, it had been quite a shock to them to see the boy hooked up to medical machinery. The large black sweater and gray sweatpants did little to hide Atreus’s small frame, the boy was quite skinny and small for someone his age, and it made the brothers even more worried.

“Really, I'm fine, I was much worse a couple days ago! They had to use a feeding tube because I couldn’t eat anything solid!” Atreus explained, laughing a bit at the faces the brothers made at the new information. “Anyway, do you guys wanna watch a movie?”

“Sure, what kind of movies ya got?” Brok asked, wanting to change the conversation.

Sindri walked over to the shelves underneath the living room TV that housed the various amounts of movies Kratos had gotten for Atreus. “What about something nice?” He asked as he picked out a movie, the title read ‘A Dog's Purpose’. It seemingly looked like a happy movie, so Sindri put it in the DvD player, turned on the TV, and settled down beside his brother to watch it.

After that, the day continued on normally, other than the occasional argument over what to watch and a coughing fit from Atreus. And after putting Atreus to bed, the two brothers sat down to talk.

“How sick do you have to be to use a feeding tube?” Sindri questioned, his voice so small Brok almost didn't catch it.

“Very sick, too sick to move, or think, properly that is.” Brok grumbled back, Atreus had seemed almost deathly pale throughout the day, it almost scared them, yet only Sindri showed it.

“How can you call a kid healthy when they can barely walk or breathe right?”

Sindri stared at the ground, the question made him think what being sick meant to Atreus if the state he was in was what he called healthy.

#unexplained answering #unexplained writing #drink lots of water #eat good food #get some sleep #and have a good day!#god of war sindri #god of war kratos #god of war atreus #god of war #god of war brok #atreus #kratos #sindri #cw medical #god of war mimir #gow mimir

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midnightostara · 1 year

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A Gift From The Rainbow

Fandom: God Of War

Relationship: Kratos/Heimdall

Characters: Kratos, Heimdall, Mimir, Freya, Tyr

Tags: Mpreg, cuddling, mention of miscarriage.

Note: Kratos & Heimdall are rulers in Asgard. Everyone survives Ragnarök.

And yes, I used some parts of 'YWBTTBS' fic, that's still in the making for this. Probably going to go back and redo it.

agapitós - beloved

The Wolf's Song is from "Ronja Rövardotter / Ronia the robber's daughter" written by Swedish writer, Astrid Lindgren.

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The Spartan trudged across the Bifrost. He, Freya, and Mimir spent a day helping the 9 realms recover from the despotic hold the All-father had placed upon them. The sun was already setting and added a chill to the air.

Walking alongside them, the retired war god, Týr. Whom they freed from his prison in Niflheim.

It was a tedious task, but in the end, it would help all the realms to heal. Right now, Kratos just wanted to be with his agapitós for being away from him as long and as well as their unborn child.

Both Kratos and Heimdall waited a bit in their relationship with each other and took care of some duties as rulers of Asgard. Heimdall decided, after some thoughts and discussion with Kratos, to have a child together.

The former god of war stalled a bit about starting a family with him. Heimdall understood his hesitance about starting a family after losing his first family because of Ares, then losing Faye because of an unforeseen circumstance. After some time of reassurance and patience, Kratos agreed to have a family again. They told Atreus about their plan to have a family. The boy was very excited to become a big brother.

Before it came to fruition, both traveled to Vanaheim to ask Heimdall's mothers, Blóðughadda, to change some parts of his body to carry a baby. They obliged and got excited about becoming a grandmother.

There were some struggles with conceiving the baby, nearly giving up on having a child together, then finally expecting, and they shared the news with their friends, family, and Asgard. The news of Heimdall's pregnancy spread within the nine realms, where everyone celebrated for them.

But it ended in heartbreak that the baby had stopped developing at 8 weeks, thus using herbs that Freya had gathered to make into a drink to help remove the fetus from Heimdall's body. Which was a painful process to watch the blond go through. The spartan held Heimdall close to him, while the god of foresight was sobbing in pain as the herbs did their work to remove the babe that they will never know from his body, Freya soothingly rubbing his lower back to help ease the pain.

Once the ordeal was done, Heimdall cleaned up. Atreus was let in the room with then, he mourned with them, losing a sibling he would never know. The boy put himself against Heimdall, where the two fell asleep together after shedding a few tears.

Kratos didn't want to see his beloved go through that pain anymore after the ordeal was done. He knew the whole nine realms had heard of this tragedy, and Asgardians were mourning with them, mourning a loss of an heir. Sif, she let Heimdall know it was not his fault that he lost the baby, that his body knew something was off about the baby.

The Spartan and the Aesir had stopped trying for a baby. They didn't think about when to start again until Heimdall felt sick and tired. The blond brushed it off as if he ate something bad, or he didn't sleep well, though it really didn't stop. Both of them had approached Freya to see if she could tell them what was wrong.

There she revealed Heimdall was pregnant again. 2 weeks pregnant to be exact, which was a shock/surprise for both of them. But the lingering fear Heimdall had after the miscarriage, the Vanir goddess, let him know it would be alright and that the baby would be ok.

Once the news of Heimdall being pregnant again went through Asgard, the Asgardians prayed for this pregnancy to stick for him.

True to her word, the baby was fine and growing. Already was 23 weeks pregnant.

“And so that’s what all happened. Now the nine realms can start their healing process.”

Týr gave a hum to Mimir, as he walked alongside the war god. "As it should be."

“But you know, Týr, the all-fuckers performance of you was convincing, but along with being a big coward.” Mimir disclosed to him.

The retired war god stopped once at the end of the Bifrost in Asgard. He stared at everything for a while, almost in a reminiscing his time being here before leaving.

"It has been a long time since I've been here..." He remarked, softly. His Bifrost eyes analyzing everything, he gave a relief of his breath that he held once, feeling the air didn't have that smoke that choked within Asgard. "A lot has changed, but now, there is a good change."

Kratos grunted. "Mn."

"Aye, but at least everything is working in order of healing!"

Freya spoke. "Everyone is at the great lodge. I'm sure we can find a room for you to have."

Týr stroked his beard. "I wonder if my old room is still there. Or that the all-father made sure it wasn't there."

"We would have to see."

********

The Spartan walked down the halls of the great lodge towards his quarters. He nodded to those that walked past him, saying nothing. Reaching his quarters, he took a deep breath before entering.

Sensing someone opening the door, Heimdall jerked his head from his book to the door to see the spartan entering, then closing the heavy door behind. He gave a relieved smile to Kratos as he put his book down on his lap.

He spoke. "Your back, finally. Did you and Freya run into trouble while helping within the nine realms?"

"Mn" The Spartan started to take off his armor, settling them down on the dresser and putting his weapons down. Tossing the blades of chaos without any care, but gently placed the leviathan ax down. He was in nothing else but his trousers, once finished he walked to the side of the bed and carefully climb on next to the blonde before settling down.

The blonde rolled his eyes. "I'll take that grunt as you did run into trouble. What happened?"

"Remaining Einherjar." Kratos grumbled, that made the blonde tense a bit once hearing about remaining soldiers of the all-fathers army.

"Where did you saw them?"

"Niflheim. They were standing guard to this old prison that Freya, Mimir and I never saw before."

Heimdall lifted a brow. "An old prison?"

Kratos gave a nod then continued. "When we defeated them, we went inside to explore it before running into Týr."

"Týr?! But... But I thought... Loki put the all-father's soul in a marble. How? How did… " Heimdall sputtered, panicking.

"It wasn't Odin. It was the real Týr, he heard of my name but couldn't remember."

The Blonde gave a sigh of relief and leaned back against the pillows. He touched the spot between his eyebrows to calm some remaining tension, sensing Kratos's hand against his stomach, he cast a glance over to Kratos, who adjusted himself on the bed and reached out to his belly.

Heimdall watches softly as the Spartan's hand settled upon his growing mound and gentle rubbed his belly with his thumb, the baby fluttered about.

"They missed you." Heimdall told, as he looked over to Kratos.

"Mn"

"When you left with Freya to help the realms, they were moving around. They stopped but kept going until I sang them a lullaby, then they settled down."

"What lullaby did you sang to them?" Kratos asked, as he removed his hand from his beloved's stomach and settled back.

Heimdall smiled. "Vargsången. The wolf song."

The Spartan lifted a brow. "Wolf song? Who taught you that?"

"Sköll and Hati. Loki wanted me to come along with him to Vanaheim, just to see them and to help the baby to settle down. Though when we were there, the baby wasn't really letting up their kicking, Hati had noticed my discomfort. Communicating with Loki, the wolf told him to teach me of 'The Wolf Song' to help, but of course communicating through Loki with the song. And it worked." Heimdall informed, he placed his hand in front of his stomach.

Kratos gave a subtle smirk to Heimdall, that made him blush all over, he scooted over to the blond before wrapping his arm around his shoulder to bring him close to him. The God of foresight, leaned against him, closing his eyes he took in the Spartan's scent; fresh and earthy like a forest.

He feels Kratos's hand against his hand on his stomach, softly he looked down to smile. "Our gift..." He whispered, happily.

"Our gift from the rainbow, agapitós."

***

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#kradall #kratos x heimdall #god of war heimdall #god of war kratos #Kratos #Heimdall #Mpreg #Youtube

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swordcoasted · 7 months

Text

WHAT DOES YOUR HEART LOOK LIKE?

cerys , broken missing pieces that once were there.

your heart has been torn before, chipped and maybe even shattered. some pieces will never be recovered, and you are shaped by the loss. but it can still be shaped into something tangible, something good, even with its flaws and imperfections. you don’t have to do all the work of rebuilding by yourself. allow other hands to leave their fingerprints on the new heart you create from the remnants.

atreus , a tangled ball of red strings.

who are you without the company of others? you aren’t sure, but you know that you aren’t fond of whoever it is. you are an actor, a pretty face and a pleasant song. many idolize you, or love you, but you can never be sure of how sincere it is. your heart is buried under the letters they leave you, sealed with a kiss. it can’t be untangled from the red strings they’ve attached to you. you deserve to find something, someone, true and faithful to hold your heart in place. you don’t have to be everything to everyone.

#IM GONNA FROW UP.....#c005. ━━ 🗡 ⮞ will you love me even at my worst points? / meta.#a005. ━━ 🗡 ⮞ then mama gave 'im a real tall glass and sent 'im right back here to me. / meta.

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maybebovinity · 10 months

Text

When a Crime Lord becomes a Baker [Aatrox/Pantheon] CHAPTER 6

Read on Ao3

TRIPLE THREAT BAKLAVA

The desert heat suffocates what little breath remains in his lungs. Sweat drips steadily into his eyes and burns like venom, but he cannot lose focus; the streets might have been empty, but empty streets only meant an imminent ambush. He was alone and he couldn’t remember where his team went. He listened for the cry of a lost child, but the streets remained silent.

He continued along the cobblestone streets as torn carpets hung out for drying weakly flapped in the quiet wind. All the doors and windows were open, but not a soul in sight. As he wandered through the streets a cold realisation washed over him: he was nearing the Darkin executions. It was an empty plaza with a mosaic of the Shuriman Sun Disc, stained with the blood of those unlucky enough to be caught by the Darkin.

He knew the plaza was around the corner, just like the time he went to confront the Darkin for the first time. But that time never came. And today he will not avoid it, he will finish his mission.

The plaza was empty of victims and an audience, but in the middle stood a gigantic creature facing him: its body mimicked that of a man but was red and emitted a pulsating glow, and what wasn’t red was covered in protective black metal. The creature’s visage was that of a man, but demonic metal horns and hellfire eyes removed any shred of humanity it might have once possessed.

The creature did not speak, but drew a sword as long as it from its back and spread open wings that went unnoticed. It stepped forward, the cobblestones shaking beneath its feet, and grew larger the closer it came.

At once Atreus knew what to do: no longer was a Targonian soldier equipped with modern machines and a standard uniform, he was a warrior clad in golden armour equipped with a deadly spear and immortal shield.

“The godling has come to finish me.” The creature spoke, its voice echoing across the universe.

Atreus steadied his spear, but he was no longer Atreus. He could feel it, another name, another soul. He was something greater; something like the creature before him.

“Finish what you have started godling.”

The spear left his hand before he could think, and he watched as it pierced the creature’s chest. But it did not scream nor wail nor fall: it stood tall and laughed cruelly as black blood leaked from its absent heart and restained the Sun Disc.

“Thank you godling.”

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧

He woke to a hand gently shaking at his naked shoulder. Disorientated, Atreus turned to see Soraka standing above him: what was she doing here? He voiced his confusion.

“I just came by to make sure you’re gonna wake up~ You don’t want to disappoint Ms. Georgiou do you?”

Still recovering from his strange dream, Atreus groggily sat up and hissed at the cold sting against his naked skin. Regardless if he enjoyed the cold, it always hurt when snuggled up in warm blankets for an entire evening. He twisted to turn towards Soraka who was already dressed for the day. He glanced at the window (curtains never closed) and saw the sky was still abyssal.

“Did you sleep here?” He asked as he slowly got out from underneath the covers and tried to locate his clothes still lying somewhere on the floor. Covering himself around her hardly mattered as neither had any remote interest in each other: Atreus saw little pleasure in women, and Soraka has yet to show interest in anyone. She kicked over a shoe in his direction, which he failed to catch and it bounced uselessly off his shin.

Locating his jeans, he made work of pulling up the cold material and listened to Soraka’s prattling:

“Next time movie night interferes with drama club I’m gonna drag you all with us instead. You should’ve seen the little ones! They had to perform Freljordian folktales and this one group made their own dresses as the three sisters-” Atreus drowned her out as she told the story of the previous evening. He knew she was familiar with the school and its children, but he hardly cared much for them himself.

He was never good with children, and hardly remembered what he was like as a child. He vaguely recalls open fields and a familiar laugh growing old until dying away too young. The memory gave him a sour taste in his mouth and he hesitated as he briefly forgot how to tie the laces of his boot.

“Atreus?”

“Hmm?”

“Forget your bunny ears?” her voice was light and obviously amused by his incompetency. He rolled his eyes, remembered how to tie his laces, and repeated the procedure with the other boot before standing up and taking the shirt Soraka already found and held out for him.

“Aatrox awake yet?” He asked.

“No idea, came straight over here. Mrs. and Mrs. Queen of Sleeping In is, as you guessed it, still sleeping in. Aphelios opened up for me, he came to fetch his sketchbook.”

Atreus reached for the key on the nightstand and carefully closed it in his palm. All he had to do was unlock the door, he didn’t need to go in and wake the man up. His thoughts flickered to his dream, but it meant nothing to him. Dreaming about Shurima was not uncommon. But dreaming of gods were.

Overcoming his irrational fear, Atreus, now fully dressed, followed Soraka out of the room into the hallway. She went directly to the kitchen where he could already hear glasses clinking against each other, and he found himself stood outside of Aatrox’s door. He tried to listen to any evidence of the man being awake, but it was eerily quiet.

The key felt slippery in his hands, and he was brave enough to ask himself: why was he so terrified? But that was not the right question to ask, because he wasn’t terrified. Not of Aatrox. Not of his dream. Not of Shurima.

He felt the same terror he once saw in Leona’s eyes before she disappeared in the middle of the war, only to return once Diana was back.

The fear he felt when Pylas died in his arms.

But Atreus refused to be dictated by fear, so he slotted the key into the polished doorknob and unlocked the door. Carefully, he pushed the door open and peered inside: Aatrox was already dressed and was carefully sitting on his bed. The room was pristine, and the bed was made up so neatly it almost appeared as if it was never slept in. Atreus tried to see if he could spot any sort of luggage, but there was nothing. He realised that in the time Aatrox has been here he has only ever worn the same clothes: jeans, with a plain t-shirt or a hoodie.

But Atreus could hardly judge with his own poor judgement in fashion. Soraka and Taric often tried to adorn him with some sort of fashionable clothing, but habit always brought him back to the comfort of practical clothing.

Aatrox looked up when the door opened and a grimace crossed his face. Atreus, being the adult he so clearly is, made the decision to ignore the other’s behaviour in favour of being civil. But he never considered that Aatrox might not be the one to forget something so… clearly not trivial.

“Good morning.” Atreus greeted autonomously.

“The sun has not yet risen.” Aatrox replied. His window’s curtains were drawn and the only light illuminating his figure was the glow of a distant street light. He reminded Atreus of the demon in his dream.

“The perfect time to get ready then.” Uncomfortable, Atreus pocketed the key and turned away. He could hear Soraka was trying to make breakfast and he wanted to stop her.

“Atreus.” It was the first time Aatrox has said his name.

Atreus stopped and turned around as he heard the bed creaking from being freed of a heavy weight. Aatrox walked over to him and leaned against the doorframe, having to crane his neck down to properly look at the baker.

“Yeah?” Atreus asked after a pause. His chest felt tight with fear.

“It is tiresome to apologise for my behaviour, and I refuse to do so. Nothing I do is without reason, and I have faith in my reasoning.”

Atreus did not react, but the words slowly filtered through his mind. Aatrox has said before about all of his actions having reason.

“No one can read your mind, so forgive me when I find it… unsettling when you decide to kill yourself in my shop and speak about-” Atreus cut himself off, because he did not want to bring up the one thing that was still plaguing him: Aatrox’s behaviour the previous evening was beyond unacceptable. Atreus already had to deal with the stress of almost losing his business and having one of the most dangerous men in Runeterra around him, he cannot handle the man’s vague intentions as well.

Aatrox was frowning and released a deep sigh, “I would ask for us to resume our indifference towards each other.” The words were said almost irritably, and Atreus did not have time to ponder on them as the criminal pushed past him and walked into the kitchen where Soraka excitedly greeted him.

Sett emerged from his room and found Atreus still standing outside of Aatrox’s room. “What’d he do now?” the bodyguard asked in amusement. Atreus only shook his head and mimicked Aatrox.

Soraka made breakfast for the four of them (Leona and Diana will not be waking up for the next few hours). They ate in silence and left the inn together, heading towards the bakery for a day filled with baking and eager old ladies waiting for their goodies.

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧

Their small routine allowed them to quickly open the shop and get everything ready. Atreus never minded taking a bit longer to open with just him and Soraka, but he couldn’t deny that having the extra hands helped. He considered asking Diana if Aphelios would be interested in making some extra money, but the thought only reminded him that Aatrox (and Sett) would be leaving at the end of the month.

Two weeks.

Two weeks of being infuriated by the Shuriman’s strange behaviour.

Atreus had Soraka in the front (she needed the practice now more than ever) and spent the morning in silence as he desperately tried to concentrate on completing his orders, and not on the brooding Shuriman sending him death glares whenever they accidentally made eye-contact.

Aatrox was as far away as possible from Atreus and was busy absent-mindedly taking down folded boxes, checking them, and putting them back on the pile. Some he unfolded completely and began anew. Atreus ignored his fidgeting, and was more worried about Sett being in the front with Soraka. He must have decided that Aatrox was not a threat this day, but it hardly meant much when Atreus was not in the mood to be anywhere near the man.

He took out a small notebook from his apron and flipped through the pages until he came to the most recent scribbled mess: Two boxes of baklava. A simple enough request from one of his customers the other day, and due for tomorrow.

He went to fetch the necessary ingredients, and when he returned he found Aatrox standing by his little corner he was trying to hide in. The man was leaning against the counter and glaring daggers at the slowly approaching baker.

“Got tired of the boxes?” Atreus asked as he tried to figure out how to move around Aatrox.

“Your silence insults me.”

“You asked us to continue our ‘indifference’” Irritated, Atreus elbowed the man out of the way and set down his ingredients. Aatrox moved from the shove, but his face lost all fight and he opened his mouth as if to protest but nothing came out.

Not wanting the man to interfere with his order, Atreus began sorting out his arsenal of soon to be boxes of delicious baklava. His movements were autonomous which unfortunately allowed him to spare enough attention to glance at Aatrox and see the man still standing there just staring at him.

“Are you always like this?” Atreus began, drawing his attention back to his work. “Say whatever you want and expect others to just know what you’re talking about?”

“Fuck you.” The words were practically hissed. Aatrox was beside him again, but he was using his gigantic advantage to crowd around Atreus and trap him between the Shuriman and his table. Atreus meant to turn around and bravely shove the man off, but when he turned and lifted his arms he found himself more trapped than he thought: Aatrox jerked forward and blocked Atreus off by firmly placing his hands on either side of the unexpecting baker. His muscles pulled tautly as he used all his strength to keep Atreus at bay.

Atreus refused to strain his neck, and settled for glaring at his chin instead. With his arms having nowhere to go, he crossed them and tried to create more distance by leaning backwards (the table digging into his backside), but it only invited Aatrox to move closer to him.

Afraid. Uncomfortable. Expecting. Atreus didn’t bother to place a word on his emotions, because this was worse than the previous night. This was possibly either life-threatening or Aatrox being as socially inept as usual.

“Can I help you?” Atreus asked carefully, briefly reminded of being in a similar situation in Shurima: coming toe-to-toe with a much younger, smaller and inexperienced youth recently recruited by the Darkin. The only difference is that Atreus was able to fight off the child, but he won’t be able to defend himself against Aatrox. Not like this.

“All I want to fucking do is break your neck.” Aatrox whispered harshly. His arms flexed and the threat was clear. “I want to personally force you onto your knees and cut off your head.”

“Why don’t you kill me then?” Atreus challenged. This only angered Aatrox further: with practised movement, he grabbed Atreus by the hem of his shirt, pulled him away from the table and pushed him into the nearest wall. Aatrox leaned down and forced Atreus to look up with a harsh tug of his shirt. Atreus tried not to slip as Aatrox almost pulled him from the floor.

“How the fuck can I kill you if you won’t fight back ?” Aatrox’s words blew his hot breath across Atreus’ face. A strange calm overcame Atreus as he observed Aatrox’s enraged face: his tattoos and snarl reminded him of the demon from his dreams.

“How do you know I won’t fight back?”

“I can see it. You want to die don’t you?”

Atreus didn’t answer, because he couldn’t trust himself to answer truthfully. Shurima changed him. It changed a lot of people. It was no different than the war Leona and Diana had to face, but it was different to him: if Atreus never went, would Aatrox be standing right here in front of him?

“What about you?” Atreus deflected. “Is that why you signed up? Are you scared of death?”

The question caught Aatrox off-guard. He relaxed his hold and created much needed distance between them. Atreus’ shirt was released, but Aatrox still stood close. Still trapped him against the wall.

“Do you believe death to be my fitting fate?” Aatrox asked, slowly, accent thick. A demon afraid of death, the opposite of the demonic Darkin Lord, propagated across Runeterra as the Shuriman Civil War raged on until everything suddenly stopped. Until the immortal Darkin Lord was captured and locked away only to be heard from again when Atreus’ desperation reached its limit. The same man Atreus was tasked to kill came to save him.

The same man who killed hundreds was afraid of being killed.

“I think you deserve better than Shurima.” Atreus said, projecting his desires onto the man. They never crossed paths during those years, but they must have been aware of each other’s presence: Aatrox hiding himself away as the Targonian soldiers proudly announced themselves wherever they went.

Aatrox has lost all the fight in him. He sighed deeply and backed away a few steps, “Why do you masquerade as a civilian?”

“Because I am one.” Atreus said with a tone he hoped would read as stop asking about Shurima. And it must have worked, because Aatrox nodded and slowly returned to his corner by the boxes where he sat down and stared at his hands with a frown. Atreus paid him no mind and returned to his previous task.

The kitchen was silent once again and the air should have been heavy, but it wasn’t: a calmness hung over their heads as Atreus methodologically made his baklava and Aatrox began to fiddle with the folded boxes again.

“What did you see in Shurima?” Aatrox asked after Atreus finally loaded the ovens. He was still perched on his chair and wore his hoodie once again he materialised out of nowhere.

“I told you, I don’t remember.”

“Lies.” If Aatrox actually thought Atreus was lying or not was beyond him, and Atreus refused to fall for the bait. Only Leona and Diana knew what happened, what he saw and what he had to do. Just like he knew what they went through to find each other. He was well aware that Aatrox’s crimes were far superior than his own, but he still struggled to grapple with some smaller details, orders given to him which he had no choice but to follow.

“I’m sure Shurimans love speaking about the foreigners who fucked everything up while they’re there, why’re you asking me?”

“The group we captured and slaughtered, their deaths were celebrated for a week. My people have suffered from the hands of the Emperor for years, and I have yet to hear them sing when I behead a Shuriman Soldier. What did you see?”

Atreus was unaware of this fact. When he returned to Targon he was forbidden from interacting with what went on, with only Leona filling him in on important details. His squad’s death barely came as a surprise to him when the news broke, but it did surprise him when Diana cried in relief at the news. Or perhaps…

The baker regarded the Shuriman who was calm, much calmer than before. Atreus was well aware the man thought nothing evil of him, but he has yet to learn what the man’s general opinion was regarding Targonians: with all the wars it was easy to forget their ancient history.

“They were criminals. We were criminals, according to Targonian standards. The Demacians would send their dishonoured soldiers to us to die, and Targon sent their dishonoured soldiers to Shurima. I might have killed my best friend, but they have done worse.”

“Worse than the Darkin?” Aatrox’s question was innocent enough, but it held heavy meanings. Atreus checked again on the baklava, deemed it was safe and propped himself against the wall he was previously pushed against.

“What makes the Darkin so bad?” He asked.

“Are the public executions not worthy enough?” Aatrox’s lip twitched in amusement and the question made Atreus uncomfortable. They were entering dangerous territory; but what did Atreus have to hide from the Darkin Lord himself?

“I had to torture an old man for information about shelter.” Atreus said without thought. Aatrox did not react to the information and only appeared confused.

“Your turn.” Atreus prompted. Aatrox’s eyes lit up in understanding.

“I hung a family for not feeding those loyal to me.”

“I killed a man for bread.”

“I bled out a man for days by castrating him.

“I walked away when they had their way with a woman.”

“It must have been the same man.” Aatrox said with some humour, possibly in an attempt to turn the conversation. But Atreus felt compelled to share the one thing he needed for Aatrox to understand: why Atreus could only ever sit back and have those brats do to him whatever they wanted.

“I executed a child.” Atreus finally said. Once he was sick at remembering the child’s face as he was forced to pull the trigger, but as time passed he soothed himself with the thought that it was a better fate than the other children. The Shuriman children slaughtered by Targonians for simply being born, just like the Moon Festival all those years ago.

“You saved a child from the Emperor’s command.” Aatrox’s voice wavered as he spoke, as if it was difficult to push the words out. The man took a deep breath and tapped at the tattoos on his head: “This is not the mark of a Darkin, this is the mark of a falsely freed child.”

“Is that why you became a Darkin? To free children?” The cause sounded almost noble.

“Became a Darkin? You misunderstand, I created them. Without me Shurima would still be under the rule of a cruel leader who kidnaps children for his glorious army.”

“And then you try to kill Targonians?”

“Those are not children. Those are demons in disguise.” Again, Aatrox attempted to divert the conversation with humour. It was interesting to witness, and Atreus allowed the distraction lest he close up early again and retreat home where he would like to stay for the next few days. Aatrox was becoming especially tiring to deal with.

“Atreus!” Soraka called from the front. A small bark followed. Spirits slightly lifted, he beckoned for the Shuriman to follow him as they exited the kitchen and came into contact with Zoe with an elderly yet feisty dachshund protectively clutched in her arms. As soon as the mutt saw Atreus, he began growling fiercely and Zoe tried soothing him.

“There, there Sol, it’s just your uncle Atreus~”

“I am not that thing’s uncle. It is practically older than most people in this town.” Atreus joked as the dog wiggled in Zoe’s arms in an attempt to be free. She settled Sol down and the little dog immediately rushed at Atreus and began tugging aggressively at his shoelaces, but being the ancient creature that it was, it was too weak to do anything other than slightly undo them.

Soraka and Zoe crowded together and cooed at the mischievous dog as Sett enthusiastically took pictures and Aatrox witnessed the display with irritation.

“ Dogs. ” He sneered. Atreus turned to him (a strange weight lifted from him at the sight of Aatrox) and tried to gently kick off the dog.

“Not a dog person.”

“Animals in general. I barely tolerate humans.”

Atreus, losing the battle, bent down and gently picked up the elder dog and firmly held onto him as Sol tried to nip at his face in its eternal battle. Ever since Zoe adopted the creature it had a great hatred for Atreus, something no one could explain but entertained as Sol has yet to draw blood.

Zoe bounced over to Atreus and reached for her pet which he gratefully handed over. Once in Zoe’s arms, Sol calmed down slightly but still growled and barked and yipped as Atreus moved away to join Soraka at the register.

“What brings you over?” He asked Zoe. She used to come over daily, but as the Ceremony draws closer the evenings become busier as she is needed almost twenty-four-seven to babysit the local brats. Making a reasonable living from babysitting alone sounds impossible, but throw in neglectful parents and it pays better than most full-time jobs.

“I wanted to meet Aatrox!” She turned to the man in question and held out Sol as a greeting. “He says nice to meet you.” She took hold of Sol’s paw and waved it for him. Aatrox gave an unsure nod and reached a hand to pat the dachshund firmly once on the head.

“Greetings creature.”

“ Arf! ”

“I think he likes you!” Zoe said as she tried to force Aatrox to hold the ancient creature. He tried desperately to decline and almost failed if Sett didn’t step up and carefully pry the animal away from Zoe’s arms.

“I think a dachshund counts as a legal weapon.” Sett said as he showered the little thing with love. Sol’s tail gave away his pleasure at the attention as the grumpy dog nipped at the hands trying to pet him.

“You’re a big guy!” Zoe said again, standing bravely before the gigantic man. She herself was shorter than average, and often mistaken for a child, but she rarely allowed her vertical disadvantage to get to her: especially in the face of dangerous criminals apparently.

“Really, what do they feed the guys out there? Atreus is our biggest guy yet, and here comes all the other guys. Tell me your secret. ”

Aatrox shifted uncomfortably and took a step back in an attempt to retreat to the kitchen. Atreus took pity on him and instructed Soraka to take Aatrox and finish the baklava. The two vanished with Sett in tow.

“Thanks for the posters.” Atreus said, once alone, as he remembered that Zoe paid Aphelios for them. She dismissed his gratitude with a wave of the hand and bent down to put Sol on a leash unless he tried to attack Atreus’ shoes again.

“Anything for a friend. Who else is going to custom bake dog treats for me?”

“Yeah, friends. Zoe?”

“Yup?”

“Can I ask a favour?”

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧

After Zoe left Atreus oversaw the careful packaging of the baklava and made sure that it was separated by fillings: peanuts, chocolate, and dried fruits. He monitored Soraka as she cut the pastry in neat little squares and complemented Aatrox when he decided to try his hand at crafting a decorative bow for the boxes.

The man was embarrassed and revealed that the Bastion sometimes had sewing lessons for the well-behaved, and he once had the privilege of attending one. But those classes ended pretty soon when a fellow inmate lost their temper and murdered the seamstress.

With the boxes packed and ready for the following day Atreus began locking up the shop when Soraka’s phone dinged.

“Diana says she wants to go to the bar tonight.”

As much as Atreus wanted to decline and go home for an early night, he was reminded again of the short time he had left with Aatrox. It wasn’t supposed to matter, but today… Today Atreus realised something terrifying and he wasn’t ready to confront it. Not until Zoe came back to him.

“You ready for another night at the bar?” Atreus asked Aatrox and Sett. Sett eagerly agreed and Aatrox sighed but gave a reluctant nod. His hands were cuffed inside of his hoodie again as they walked down the street. Sett and Soraka took the lead as Atreus and Aatrox followed behind them. They did not push each other or try to engage in awkward conversation, instead they walked silently (content) until they reached Starfall and went inside where Leona and Diana were already waiting for them.

“Another day, another drink.” Diana remarked as she gulped down her drink. Targonian beer was weak, so weak there were hardly any legal drinking ages unless the local law enforcement were getting bored of stopping vandalising.

The group settled around the table and Soraka launched into conversation about the school play. Sett became invested as soon as it was revealed that Aphelios would be helping with the set design, but Atreus and Aatrox distanced themselves from the conversation. Seated next to each other once again, Atreus allowed himself to ignore the world around him as he thought back on the day.

It wasn’t every day the most dangerous man in Runeterra had you against a wall with the intent of murder. He knew Aatrox was dangerous, it was not like the man tried to hide it, but Atreus failed to see how Aatrox was the renowned Darkin Lord. He heard the stories, he saw the bodies, he witnessed the man almost killing himself, but he has yet to see him be the Shuriman Demon everyone claims to have heard.

He was just another Shuriman. Just another soldier.

“ Breaking news…” The group’s attention turned to the TV where Janna Zephyr returned once again with an image of the Immortal Bastion behind her. “ The Immortal Bastion’s Rehabilitation Programme appears to be a success as two of the three Darkin members have successfully integrated themselves within society. Members Varus and Rhaast have formally denounced the Darkin Syndicate and pledged to become model citizens. Varus is returning to Noxus in the upcoming week to receive a new hearing for a plea to be pardoned of his sentence as he claims to have never taken part in the Darkin’s activities. Rhaast will remain in Ionia for the entire duration, but has made an impressive impact on his community. They are eager to see his return. The third member refuses any contact, but we have yet to receive reports about casualties…”

The TV showed mugshots of two men Atreus could only assume were the Darkin members in question: a pale man with a long angular face and hollow eyes, and a darker man with a strong jaw and face covered in intricate black tattoos similar to Aatrox’s.

Atreus turned to his employee to question him about the other’s lack of tattoos, but he held the question to himself as he saw the blossoming anger on Aatrox’s face. The Shuriman turned to Sett, “May I go outside?” He asked through clenched teeth. Sett didn’t have time to answer as Aatrox lifted himself and speedily walked out. Atreus stood up to follow him with Sett in tow.

Outside Aatrox was seated on the sidewalk with his legs carelessly kicked out in the street. He was glaring at the dark and barely acknowledged the pair when they carefully came up behind him.

“Hey big man, what’s up?” Sett asked. Aatrox didn’t answer, but Sett continued. “Miss your buddies? You’ll see them soon you know? Rhaast is coming back-”

“Yes of course. Rhaast is coming back, what joy befalls me on this day to know that the men who have failed me returns from their fucking wonderful lives. ” Aatrox hung his head low and released a shuddering breath.

Worried, Sett turned to Atreus: “I think I should take him back. Can you get the keys?” Atreus didn’t argue and went inside to get the Inn’s keys from Diana.

“Why?” She asked as the little key was dropped into his calm.

“He’s angry? No idea, but Sett wants him back.” Atreus didn’t have time to stick around as he left them and went outside to hand over the keys. Once outside he was first confused because Aatrox and Sett were missing, but a loud crash alerted him to their presence. He quickly followed the sound and found them just around the corner with Aatrox on the floor on his back and Sett sitting on his chest heaving.

Aatrox’s eyes were closed and a dark patch surrounded his mouth. Atreus carefully came forward and saw that his lip was split and Sett’s fist was suspiciously bruised.

“What… happened?” he asked. Sett sighed and shook his head as if disappointed.

“Big man’s not happy about his friends.” Sett heaved himself off Aatrox and hunkered down to drag him up. With a struggle and much huffing, he managed to drag the man to the closet wall and prop him against it. He took out his phone and punched in a number, possibly a lift.

“What do you mean?” Atreus asked as he regarded the unconscious Shuriman. Even when asleep he looked angry. Sett gave a sad smile and tucked away his phone.

“They weren’t supposed to get all comfy. They were all supposed to leave together. Basically, they threw him away. Aatrox has officially nothing left.”

#fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own #league of legends #lol #aatrox #pantheon #aatrox x pantheon #aatrox/pantheon #when a crime lord becomes a baker

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me-myself-and-my-fos · 1 year

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I know nothing about gow but I am a recovering norse+greek mythology nerd and I need deets (if you want to share)!! I am braiding my old futhark beads into your hair as we speak fhsjenak

As the nerdy kid who never got out of their mythology phase, 🥺🥺🥺 thank you

There’s not much to tell right now, but what I can tell you is the ship is genuine just angst. I mean not long after our daughter is born, Odin decides he’s sick my rebelling and insubordination so he just,,, stages an ambush to kill me. And when I (unknowingly) survive, Odin lies to Thor and tells him Giants killed me. Then manipulates Thor to marry my half-sister Sif because “the kids need a mother in their lives”

I also decided that Thor gifted me short swords at some point that I can harness my magic through. I definitely get them enchanted (or enchant them myself) so only I can lift them like Mjolnir with Thor, but I don’t tell him. I definitely used to find it amusing when I’d leave them in the floorboards of our room and he can lift them

And my s/i is loosely based off the Enchantress from Marvel Comics but more in the sense that after my “death” while I’m in hiding on Midgard, I take the Amora and people would know I enchant things so I’d be called Amora the Enchantress. I also think that’s how I’d meet Kratos and Atreus, they’re sent to go find Amora to help them with something. Mimir is definitely shocked to see me, as he should be since the ambush was all his idea

⬇️ Spoilers for GoW Ragnarok ⬇️

The reunion during Ragnarok would be a ride cause everyone has their own jobs and I tell Kratos I’m going to go find Thor and try to sway him to help us. And Thor is not expecting me to show up cause y’know he thought I was dead for like centuries

I do manage to convince him to help us, which is really good until we have to face Odin who isn’t happy his only surviving son is working against him. He does try to stab Thor like in the game, but cause I’m a master at illusion and enchantment, I send a copy of myself to intervene so Odin thinks he stabbed me when I get in the way. Everyone thinks he did, until I come up behind and stab him with my short swords. It doesn’t do much and he just uses Mjolnir to launch me away and Thor has to go save me. So that sort of explains our absence from the final fight with Odin

#that’s a lot more than I expected but oh man I’m excited about this already #i love to ramble #otp: love and thunder

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ozpin780 · 1 year

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Dialogues i imagine fundy will say to kratos and atreus //

"Mom left me with my dad when i was a baby, she wanted to go to the sea."

"Dad was nice. He cared for me and teach me all about surviving in the woods and how to craft my first potion"

"He used to sing to me when i had the nightmares. Or he would play the guitar songs of his home. His tunes helped me to find peace. When i got a bit older he taught me to play the piano. But now those are just fleeing shards on my memory."

"There was a man who was in control over the land. We lived under his rules, dad didn't like it. He took traces of the land and claimed them as his own in the name of freedom and independence."

"He wanted to keep us safe and free from the rule of that man and his god. Of course, a declaration of war came after. We fought and died and came back to keep fighting. I was a soldier and my home became a battlefield. We still lose the fight, but my uncle theseus challenged Dream and gave him an artifact in exchange of our freedom. "

-"So you guys won the war?"

"Yes, we became independent. But my dad wanted the recognition of a hero, a savior. In an attempt to prove his greatness he ended giving the power of our land to a dictator he once called friend. The land ended in war once more and dad never recovered, he fell into madness. And part of that i know is my fault."

#funtreus

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aithreachas · 2 years

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— @decaeys ↳ for sylvanas

Perhaps the Gods were laughing at him. Every time Atreus left the safety of his so called home something bad befell him. Be it the destruction of the Silver Hand, to the sacking of Lordaeron he simply was born with tragedy in his blood.

But his king had asked something of him—something precious—and Atreus would have never forgiven himself had he refused Varian's request to watch over the recovering Anduin during Garrosh's trial. Even now with the shackles around his wrists from his Forsaken captors Atreus had only the regret that the small party of soldiers he was travelling with lay slaughtered while he still lived. It always seemed to be his path—to be the one that lived on when his people died around him.

He should've waited to travel back with bulk of the Alliance Forces and not take the word that a ceasefire would last even after the trial's conclusion but Atreus had missed Stormwind and did not like being so far out—so exposed—and thus had bowed out as soon as his duties were fulfilled. Being attacked on the road had not been something Atreus had been anticipating. He would not make that mistake again, should he get out of this...

“Are ye really going to deny an old man his walking stick? I should be flattered yer so afraid of the likes of me.” he grumbled to one of his captors, one he did not recognize other than the fact they were Forsaken. “ I'm sure you're going to drag me even if I fall over but certainly it would go a lot smoother if ye just let me walk with some support.”

You know, it might have just worked had Atreus not laid eyes upon one Sylvanas Windrunner ahead on the road and his captors suddenly snapped to attention, cane and the sword hidden within it pulled away just before he could grab it.

#decaeys #⚔ ► v: until my last breath i'll fight. ( ' world of warcraft ' )#decaeys ( ' sylvanas ' )#⚔ ► knight queuemander ( ' queue ' )#// atreus trying to gandalf his way out of this situation #// i hope this is okay lmk if you need anything changed #// I left it vague in place but basically after the trial had finished but before the rest of the shenanigans but we can always shift it #// if that doesn't work for you

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hannahintherockies · 2 years

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Day 16: Epidaurus, Tiryns, Mycenae

Early bus to the sanctuary of Asklepios (the healer) at Epidaurus. Epidaurus is a huge site, like a national park. It has an intact, huge theatre (capacity of about 8000 people), a bath complex, a stadium, several temples, and a “dormitory” where people could sleep during the day after a long day of running, praying, and healing. The dormitory was remarkable because both levels have been preserved, so you can see the flat roof, which forms the floor of the second level, and visit the ground floor. Both would have had columns rather than walls to encourage air flow. This was the first UNESCO world heritage site of the day.

We then went to the fortifications at Tiryns, which are impressive because of the huge stones used to create the walls. The larger stones would have weighed over 10 tonnes. This was the second UNESCO world heritage site of the day.

From Tiryns, we went to Mycenae, which was the highlight of the trip for me. I love this site because it’s so incomprehensible. The site is about 4000 years old, and the ancient Greeks thought that the people who lived in Mycenae must have been god-like giants, because they couldn’t imagine regular people building such a huge castle out of monolithic rocks. To this day, it’s unclear what led to the collapse of Mycenae, since the site survived very well, but was abandoned very quickly and never inhabited again. It was excavated in modern times by Heinrich Schliemann, who was obsessed with Troy and found ways to connect all of his sites to the legend. Mycenae, for instance, was thought to be the home of Atreus, Agamemnon’s father. Some very well-preserved golden artefacts were recovered in graves here, including the Mask of Agamemnon. This was the third UNESCO world heritage site of the day.

From Mycenae, it was a short walk to the ‘Treasury of Atreus’, a huge tomb that was covered over with a lot of dirt after the body was interred. Nowadays, the tomb is completely empty, but the vaulted tomb is still very impressive. This is one of the few sites that you can walk into, and it was one of the things that I had been really looking forward to seeing. This was the fourth UNESCO world heritage site of the day.

I think this day is the most extreme example of how much we crammed into each day. At lunch, which was after Tiryns and before Mycenae, several people had mini-tantrums because they were so exhausted that they didn’t think they’d be able to take in Mycenae properly. By this point, about 3 people in my group of close friends had heat exhaustion, and couldn’t eat.

The hotel for the night was in Kalamata, but we were there for less than 10 hours, so I didn’t get the chance to look around or sample the local olives. We did make time to swim!

View from Tiryns over surrounding orange orchards

Ruins at Mycenae

Entrance to the monumental tomb at Mycenae (those are regular-sized people in the doorway!)

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screechthemighty · 2 years

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Okay, so, I finished this short roughly Fifty Bajillion Years Ago, but...only just tonight revised it because my brain is trash. Anyways, I promise I’m still working on the “Cooper and Atreus are friends because I said so” fic, but here’s another fic in that series featuring Ashwin being his usual charming (annoying) self, because this series is self-indulgent as hell. AO3 link will be in a reblog, but you can also read the whole thing below!

(Context for anyone who hasn’t read this series on AO3: “Arthur” is the alias Atreus was primarily using during the Frontier Wars.)

"Aww, I remember when I had lungs and needed equipment to not die." Ashwin leaned back against the doorway. He'd be smiling if he had a mouth. It was actually kind of hilarious, watching everyone strap into the masks, looking like a bunch of scuba divers or Bloodhound cosplayers, depending. "You guys look cute."

"Yeah, yeah, we get it, robot supremacy, whatever," Elliott grumbled. "Remind me why we're even fighting here?"

"Syndicate wants more visually interesting matches. Doesn't get more interesting than the endless fog of…whatever this place is called. Horror movie aesthetic, I guess."

That was the thing. Ashwin knew exactly what it was called, or at least he knew what it was called by both sides during the Frontier Wars. Both names were pretty boring, just random designations assigned to planets that hadn't been settled yet (or, in the case of this one, probably never would be). But he also knew what a certain war buddy of his called it—something considerably more interesting. Niflheim. The realm of fog.

He also knew that admitting to being familiar with the place would probably put a target on his back (he would definitely try to take out the guy who was familiar with the area first, just to make sure that knowledge wasn't used against him), so he kept his robot mouth shut about that bit.

"Just be careful where you step," Williams chimed in. Ashwin counted to ten to keep from calling her a mall cop to her face. She hadn't done anything yet; there was no need to get nasty. "Wouldn't want you getting lost and running into the wolf."

...wait.

"Uh, I'm sorry, the what now?" said Elliott nervously. "Listen, Hound's already been rambling about how this place was cursed by the Allfather. I don't need more reasons to be freaked."

Williams laughed. "Relax, Witt. It's nothing. Some guys during the war just breathed too much of the stuff, saw things that weren't there. Just make sure your seal is tight and you'll be fine."

"What did they see?”

Half the ship turned to stare at the speaker.

Ashwin understood why; the veritable mountain of a man standing in his corner, respirator gear still dangling from his belt and not on his face, rarely spoke before a match. He usually sat in his corner and brooded, doing whatever the hell it was he did to get in the zone. He kept to himself so much that pretty much no one knew his actual name; most people just called him Ghost, or the Ghost, a shortened version of his stage name. The Ghost of Sparta. He was a guy who knew his Greek mythology, but didn’t reveal anything else about himself.

But now, he seemed really interested in whatever Williams was trying to say. Which, in turn, made Ashwin curious, even though he already knew what she was talking about. It would be interesting to hear an outsider’s take on it, and way more interesting to see how Ghost reacted to that.

Williams shrugged and leaned back in her chair. “Well, I wasn’t there. I only heard about this because a buddy of my dad’s was. ARES had sent out a team to survey the planet, see if Milita had already gotten a foothold or not. They called for extraction early, something about unexpected resistance. By the time they were recovered, only three were still left. And by then...” She twirled a finger near her temple. “…they’d lost it. Kept rambling about a giant wolf out in the fog. Said that was what took their buddies.” Williams glanced Ashwin’s way and raised an eyebrow. “They didn’t find evidence of a giant wolf, not that we have wolves in the Outlands, but they did find evidence of mercenary activity. Don’t suppose you know anything about that?”

Oh, he did, but he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of saying so. “The hell are you looking at me for?” Ashwin said. “Could’ve been the 6-4 for all you know. Maybe the Resort.” He turned away from her to focus on Ghost. “So, that’s pretty weird, huh? Giant wolf in the Outlands?”

Ghost didn’t reply. He’d gone all quiet, pensive. Ashwin didn’t think he’d ever seen the guy like that before. It was nagging away at him, but he couldn’t figure out why. “You should get your gear on. We’re dropping soon,” Ashwin added out loud.

I really hope I don’t have to fight that guy... Sure, Ashwin had some potential advance knowledge of the planet, but that wasn’t going to do much if he was up against the powerhouse known as the Ghost of Sparta. He was usually either the winner or one of the first guys to go, because basically everyone put aside their differences to focus on him when he was in play. He was dangerous. Everyone knew it.

(Ashwin kinda wondered sometimes, but he'd stamped those questions down really deep. None of his business. He was just here to get that metaphorical bread and leave. No sense getting involved in anyone else's nonsense.)

Fortunately(ish) for Ashwin, Ghost ended up on his team. Unfortunately for Ashwin, their third was Williams, which meant he was going to have to spend the entire match holding back insults. God grant me patience, because if you grant me strength, I’m gonna be disqualified for friendly fire.

In another twist of fate, Ashwin was distracted from his disgruntlement by watching Ghost. The guy stared down at the planet with this weird expression on his face. Then again, any expression was weird for him. Usually the dude looked like he was chiseled from solid granite, but today there was a bit of a crease in his brow. Like he was struggling to remember something as they flew over the mist and distant structures of the planet.

As they flew over one planet in particular, Ashwin could’ve sworn he saw the guy take a deep breath, like he’d either been punched or was bracing himself for a punch.

Ashwin recognized the building immediately. He remembered how excited Arthur (alias) had been to see the structure. Pippin had the same reaction. They’d talked about the possibility about getting its inner workings up and running, but they’d need something called the light of Alfheim and literally no one had any clue what that meant (even after Arthur explained it twice) or how to get one, so they’d just smuggled out a few components so the IMC wouldn’t be able to use it, either. He was pretty sure the crystals were buried on Cooper’s farm somewhere, waiting to be put back whenever Arthur could re-charge his Bifrost or whatever (seriously, Ashwin still had no idea what he'd been talking about and he'd had years to mull it over). It was a neat structure, even if Ashwin had no idea how the heck it was supposed to work.

But Ghost's reaction wasn't the reaction of a guy who thought something was neat. It was…

Ashwin heard a ping. He glanced at his wrist computer, then slowly up to Williams. She'd passed off jumpmaster to him, and was looking at him expectantly. She really wasn't going to let this go, was she?

Don't call her names, don't call her names, don't call her names…

Ashwin held eye contact and passed jumpmaster off to Ghost. The ping was followed by a heavy sigh from Ghost, who immediately passed it back off to Williams. "Is there a problem?" he asked sternly.

Damn, though. Why did Ashwin feel like he was about to be grounded? Even Williams looked like she felt guilty. "No problem," Ashwin said, and lied. "Where are we landing, jump master?"

Williams glared at him, but didn't pass off jumpmaster again.

She landed them somewhere isolated, which was smart. Get your bearings, see what loot you could find. Ashwin wondered if they'd been able to account for the fact that this place had a bad habit of moving around when you weren't looking. Apparently so, because they were able to find weapons quickly. "At least they gave us threat scopes," Ashwin noted. "Throws off your game, though, Williams."

"We'll make do." Bangalore tilted her head. “Anyone else hear that?”

Ashwin sure did. The awful, grinding sound was immediately familiar, in a way. It actually sounded worse than it had all those years ago. “Sounds worrying, whatever it is,” he said, still trying to act like he had no idea the place was littered with death traps. “We should probably be careful, though. I mean. More careful than usual.”

“Agreed,” said Ghost gruffly. “I will take point.”

Fine by me. Saved Ashwin the trouble of pretending he didn’t know what was up.

They made their way carefully through the fog, Ghost at the front, Ashwin in the middle, Bangalore following up the rear. He was, he had to admit, more nervous than usual; the mists were thicker than he remembered, and even though he was a whole-ass robot, he still felt like he should have a tickle in his throat. “Who makes something like this?” Bangalore muttered.

Again, Ashwin knew a thing or two, but again, he deflected with a joke. “Have you ever seen an Indiana Jones movie? Most likely the Holy Grail is at the center of whatever this is.”

“The what?”

Ghost spoke up: “The cup that Jesus Christ drank from at the last supper. Allegedly.”

Ashwin pointed at him. “See? Someone knows his religious history. Or pop culture history.”

“Arthurian legends,” Kratos corrected quietly.

“Or that. Y’know, an old war buddy of mine was into that...”

Before Ashwin could finish the thought, Ghost held out an arm. Ashwin saw why almost immediately; the wall in front of them was pretty clearly a trap wall, but the pistons or whatever weren’t going. At first, Ashwin was worried that the either the game masters had gotten to them and decided to have some fun with the trap pacing, or the gears that ran this place had decayed and were now running on sheer random luck. But then...

Shit. Wait. I know where we are.

That wasn’t something you could say very often about Niflheim. It was entirely possible Ashwin was getting overconfident, that the second they turned a corner he wouldn’t have any idea where they were again, but for now he knew where they were.

...Which, granted, might cause some issues if Williams caught on, but maybe Ghost’s dad energy would keep her from being annoying about it. Maybe.

“Is there anything stopping us from going that way?” Ashwin asked. “I mean...” He pointed to a part of the wall marked with faded but still visible paint. “Seems promising. Or someone at the games is trying to fuck with us, in which case…"

It was a split second reaction, but Ashwin caught it. Ghost stared at the handprint like he knew it. It was the same bracing himself reaction he'd had to seeing the temple below.

That said a lot.

"...we have a lot more to be worried about," Ashwin finished. He wasn't thinking about the games, though. He was looking at the Ghost, searching the face for anything familiar. There was something in the profile...the height...how had Arthur described…? "Thoughts, fearless leader?"

Ghost stepped forward and carefully ran a hand over the print. It was such a weirdly careful gesture from the guy, but when he spoke…

"The paint is old. It is unlikely the game masters left this here as a trap. And it does not match the rest of the rest of the maze…perhaps another explorer left it there to mark safe passage."

He sounded businesslike. Rational. But Ashwin had been friends with Robert “Barker” “What’s An Emotion I Don’t Know Her” Taube back in the day. He knew what deflection sounded like. It was burned into his robot brain. And it only made his suspicions stronger.

I have to get us back to that temple.

"I'll take the risk if you guys will?" Ashwin said.

Williams was about to reply; before she could, a ping of a sniper shot just barely missed her. That kind of made the decision for them. They made a run for it, through the disabled trap, deeper into the fog.

The next handprint wasn't too far away, a fact that brought Ashwin an intense amount of relief. Arthur had suspected the "magic" (for lack of a better word) of this place was starting to wear off. He'll be glad to hear he's right, Ashwin thought.

Then, How old did he say his dad looked?

The thing was, Ashwin knew it was probably a long shot. He really did. But he couldn't escape that sticky thought of what if. Especially when he remembered how sad Arthur had looked the one and only time he’d talked about his family.

There were a lot of things Ashwin had come to terms with when it came to his situation. Never really getting to say goodbye to his parents…wasn’t on that list. He didn’t like to think of anyone going through the same thing. Especially not someone who had saved his ass and kept a close mutual friend safe multiple times.

There was a pretty surefire way to test his crack theory, at least, and they were running right for it. The bad news was the place they were running right for happened to be a big open area with plenty of chances to get shot, but maybe they'd get lucky.

Eventually, the trail of faded golden paint lead them to one of the maze’s front areas. Drones were scooping up unconscious bodies, and the place looked pretty picked apart. If Ashwin had to guess, this was where a lot of the early fighting had gone down. "Doesn't look like there's much left," Williams noted.

"I'm gonna look anyways," Ashwin said. "Might be some light ammo left over…" And I need to get Ghost closer to the temple. "...I won't take long, I promise."

Williams looked ready to protest until Ghost cut in: "I will follow."

Oh, buddy, you're really proving this madness right. Ashwin had to shove down the weird giddy feeling jumping around his ones and zeroes and focus on not getting shot. This place could see action again at any time, and on top of that, there was the ring to consider. Gotta love the variables in a war game.

They cleared the hill and the archway, arriving at the road leading up to the temple. It was dead silent, creepily so, and the bodies still lingering in the fog made the whole thing very horror movie. “Can you imagine what this place looks like after dark?” Ashwin whispered. He really was looking for ammo, but also watching a particular spot in the area. “Visibility is shit already. Set up some green spotlights or something and...”

The Ghost had stopped in front of a rock near the archway.

Ashwin knew the rock. He remembered watching Arthur paint it. He’d actually painted two different places, one inside the temple, one out, just in case something happened to one or the other. Aswhin didn’t know what was written on it—the runic letters were nothing he could read, and on top of that, it had seemed rude to ask. It was some kind of message, so he knows I’m okay, but that was all he knew.

Ghost was looking at it like he was seeing a ghost. At the letters. At the handprint. He even crouched down to examine that last part, his fingertips brushing over it. His face remained resolute, but the eyes...

Oh, got you, you son of a bitch, fucking hell this is insane. Hysteria joined the giddy feeling, making Ashwin feel like his body was vibrating. This is the funniest thing to ever happen to me. I have to win. I can’t be in repairs for long. I’ve gotta...

“What’s it say?” Williams asked suddenly.

Ghost froze, but recovered pretty quickly. “I don’t know,” he said. Liar, Ashwin thought, metaphorically biting his tongue to keep from screaming the word. “We should keep moving.”

Don’t say anything. You’ll give it away. I’m so glad I don’t have a human face right now. Fuck. Cooper’s gonna lose his mind. Arthur’s going to lose his mind. Did Ashwin have his number? He didn’t think so. It had been a while since they talked last, and he knew that Arthur liked to change it. I’ll call Cooper. They’re definitely still in touch.

The good news was, they’d lasted this long. Ghost and whatever team he was on tended to go the distance if he made it this far. Nothing was guaranteed, sure, but Ashwin was feeling pretty confident about their chances.

It turned out, he had every right to be confident. They did end up winning, though it was a final ring three-way clusterfuck that definitely had Ashwin feeling a little rattled. (Literally rattled; a grenade had gone off close enough that he felt like some bolts had shaken loose.) Of course, Ashwin was relieved, because another win meant a little less time that he had to spend in this hell hole.

He was also relieved because it meant he could very casually take a quick snapshot of Ghost while they were on the return ship. It was a miracle he was able to get the shot, but Ghost was distracted. He kept flexing his dominant hand, staring down at it as if some paint had come off onto his fingerprints.

Give me five seconds, dude, Ashwin thought as he scrambled to send the message to Cooper. Trust me. I’m about to help you out big time.

He probably could’ve confronted Ghost directly, but the guy could be volatile, and Ashwin didn’t want to risk that he’d gotten it wrong somehow. So he attached the picture to a message for Cooper: Hey, do you still have Arthur’s number? If so, send him this picture and ask if this is the guy he’s been looking for. And also that he can thank me later if I’m right.

It did occur to Ashwin as he sent the message that he was going to have a lot of explaining to do to Cooper, depending. But...well, he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. He’d rather explain to an old war buddy what he was doing in a blood sport than live the rest of his robot existence knowing he’d potentially kept father and son apart. That’d be real shitty of him.

The post-match stuff went down as usual. Ashwin went back to his little apartment when he was finally able to escape, fully prepared to tend to his plants and dodge phone calls from the PR guy who always had something to say about his post-match interviews (just pull my press conference privileges if you’re so worried, damn). But just as he was getting started changing out the moss balls’ water, his phone started buzzing.

Unknown Caller.

It didn’t phase him. A huge chunk of Ashwin’s friend group liked to mask their numbers, use burner phones, that kind of thing. And maybe this was the call he was waiting for. Ashwin played it cool as he answered, though. No point in making assumptions. “もしもし, Ashwin here.”

“Hey, uh...” The person on the other end cleared their throat. “It’s...Arthur? Sorry, I made Cooper give me this number...”

Ashwin froze. “No, shit, don’t apologize...wow, you sound exactly the same.” Even after all those years. It made sense, of course he wouldn’t sound any different, but still. That was a weird thing to happen with someone still flesh and blood. “So, uh, I take it he sent you the picture?”

“Yeah. Yeah, he...”

Arthur’s voice cracked. He had to stop to clear his throat again. And when he spoke...

“Where are you?”

He didn’t sound like a near ageless being with knowledge beyond Ashwin’s scope of comprehending. He sounded like a scared kid who wanted to go home.

Ashwin had been right. And knowing that made any awkward and painful explanations he’d have to give Cooper now worth it.

#my writing #my fanfic #I...will not be tagging the fandoms for this one lmao it's WAY too niche

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pantheon-god-of-war · 5 years

Text

PANTHEON, THE UNBREAKABLE SPEAR

Atreus was born on the hostile slopes of Targon, and named after a star in the constellation of War, known as the Pantheon.

From an early age, he knew he was destined for battle. Like many in his tribe, he trained to join the Rakkor’s militant order, the Ra’Horak. Never the strongest or the most skilled warrior, Atreus somehow persevered, standing up, bloodied and bruised, after each bout. In time, he developed a fierce rivalry with a fellow recruit, Pylas—but no matter how often Atreus was cast onto the stones, he stood back up. Pylas was impressed by his unrelenting endurance, and through the blood they spilled in the training circle, a true brotherhood was born.

Atreus and Pylas were among the Rakkor who stumbled across a barbarian incursion, surviving the ambush that left the rest of their patrol dead. When the Aspect of the Sun refused to destroy these trespassers, Atreus and Pylas swore to capture the power of the Aspects themselves by climbing to the peak of Mount Targon.

Like so many before them, they underestimated how arduous the ascent would be, with Pylas shivering his last upon finally reaching the summit. Only Atreus remained as the skies opened, making him host to a divine Aspect, with the power to take revenge.

But it was not a man who returned to the Rakkor afterward, spear and shield gleaming with celestial might. It was the Aspect of War itself, the Pantheon. Judging Atreus unworthy, a warrior who had known only defeat, it had taken control of his body to pursue its own ends—a task it considered too great for mortal men.

Cast into the furthest corners of his own mind, Atreus endured only vague visions as the Aspect scoured the world for Darkin, living weapons created in a bygone age.

Eventually, Pantheon was goaded into battle not far from Mount Targon by the Darkin Aatrox, who sought the mountain’s peak. Their fight raged into the skies, and swept through the armies of men beneath… until the impossible occurred. The Darkin’s god-killing blade was driven into Pantheon’s chest, a blow that carved the constellation of War from the heavens.

But as the Aspect faded, Atreus—the man it had considered weak—awoke once more. Impaled upon Aatrox’s blade, and with the power of the Aspect’s weapons dimming, he took a ragged breath, and spit in the Darkin’s face. Aatrox sneered, and left Atreus to die.

Hours later, as the crows descended, Atreus painfully stood back up, stumbling back to the Rakkor in a trail of blood. After a lifetime of defeat, his will to live, and his anger at betrayal, were enough to stave off the death that had claimed War itself.

Atreus recovered on Pylas’ homestead, nursed back to health by his friend’s widow, Iula. There, Atreus realized he’d spent his life looking to the stars, never considering what lay beneath. Unlike gods, mortals fought because they must, knowing that death lay in wait. It was a resilience he saw in all life, the threats unending.

Indeed, barbarian invaders now threatened the Rakkor’s northern settlements, including Iula’s farm. Though it was months before he could lift a spear, Atreus was determined to end this scourge himself, and eventually set out with the Aspect’s dulled weapons in hand.

Yet, when he arrived, he found his sworn enemies already under siege. He knew from their cries, from the overwhelming stench of blood… they faced Aatrox.

It was Aatrox who had driven the barbarians into Targon, Atreus realized. Though he’d considered them his foes, they were much like the Rakkor—mortals who suffered in the conflicts between greater powers. Atreus felt a cold rage at both the Darkin and the Aspects. They were no different. They were the problem.

Atreus put himself between the barbarians and Aatrox. Recognizing the battered shield and spear of the fallen Aspect, the Darkin mocked him—what hope had Atreus now, without the Pantheon’s power? But even though Aatrox’s blows cast him to his knees, Atreus’ own will reignited the Aspect’s spear, upon hearing the cries of the people around him… and with a mighty leap, he struck a blow that severed the Darkin’s sword arm.

Both blade and Darkin fell to the ground. Only Atreus still stood, and watched his namesake star blaze back to life in the heavens.

Though he often yearns to return to Iula’s farm, Atreus vowed that day to stand against Aspects, Ascended, demons, and any who wield power so great, it can only destroy. Forsaking his own name, he has become a new Pantheon—the Aspect’s weapons fueled by the will to fight that can only exist in the face of death.

For with the divine Pantheon gone, War must be reborn in man.

#Pantheons Lore #pantheon #league of legends #not mine #just reposting this here

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joyful-soul-collector · 5 years

Text

Evicted - Part 2

Here’s Part 1 if you didn’t get a chance to read it!

“Day! What the hell were you thinking!?” Kat said, slamming the car door behind her and running towards me.

“Gah! Oh, hey Kat! What--”

“Get in the car!” Kat grabbed my arm and started dragging me to her car, her long braids almost hitting my face as she whipped her head around.

“Woah, ow, okay, okay! I get it! I messed up!”

“Damn right you messed up! You can’t just run away and not tell anyone where you are!”

“Yeah yeah I know-- Ow! Kat!” I cried indignantly as she shoved me into the passenger seat of the car. “Can you not throw me around?!”

“Shut up, you deserve it Amadeus!”

“Oh shit we’re going with the full names--”

“Listen to me!” she screamed, slamming the car door and pulling on her seatbelt. “You can’t do that anymore okay!? If you’re gonna run somewhere, you run straight to my house so you don’t get kidnapped or something, do you hear me?!”

“Kidnapped?! Kat it’s not like I was in the ghetto--”

“Do you hear me!?”

“Mother of Atreus, YES!” I groaned.

“Day, this is no time for God of War references, I’m trying to lecture you here.”

“Yeah yeah I get it.” There was a bit of a silence, in which the only noise that filled the space was the low hum of the car.

“Why did you run away?” she asked suddenly.

“I’m losing my fucking home Kat,” I snapped.

“Yeah I know but--”

“I wasn’t thinking straight. I-- I was tired, I was stressed out from school, and home stuff, and I just… God, I just wanted to go home and not worry about anything for a bit and then Mom--” I cut off, my voice breaking. I took a moment to breathe, looking out the window. “I just… I had a panic attack. I couldn’t handle everything that was happening.”

Kat sighed, seeming to calm down a little. “Just… please don’t run off again Day? Please? That was so scary, just please don’t ever do that again--”

“I won’t,” I interrupted. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t realize you would worry. I won’t do it again.”

“Thank you,” she said.

It only took about fifteen minutes for us to get to her house, but it felt like an hour. When we finally walked in the door, the smell of chili filled my nostrils, and my stomach roared it’s displeasure at still being painfully empty.

“Was that your stomach?” Kat said in surprise, staring at my middle.

“Yeah,” I said, my face growing warm.

“I guess you haven’t had anything since lunchtime, huh?”

“I actually skipped lunch. I was really nervous about that Chem test. I ended up just studying in the library straight through lunch.”

“What!? Day!” she cried indignantly, dropping her keys on the counter.

“What did I do now!?”

“You didn’t eat dumbass!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, just-- why are you so goddamn worried about me? I’m fine!” But even as I said this, the room swayed slightly in front of my eyes.

“Clearly you’re not! Go sit down, you look a little pale.”

“Kat, I’m fine! I--” But Kat grabbed my shoulders and steered me towards the table, somehow pushing me into the chair effortlessly even though I was struggling. “Gah-- Kat!”

“Day, I need you to just stay here. I know how you are, you’re gonna say you’re fine and then bottle it all up until you explode into another panic attack. I just need you to relax for a moment.”

I groaned, rolling my eyes and leaning backwards in the chair. “I don’t do that--”

“Yes you do, and you might not believe me but you actually have to recover from panic attacks, you can’t just jump back into life like it never happened, that just makes it worse. You’re not fine. You’re usually stronger than me and it barely took me any effort to drag you over here--”

“Well I was letting you--”

“No you weren’t, and we both know it.” Kat leaned down a bit to look me in the eyes. “You can’t just keep going forever. You have to stop and rest, and for fuck’s sake eat and sleep.” She looked at me for a moment, searching my face before pushing a strand of hair out of my eyes.

Her dark fingers were so warm, not like fire, but like a summer breeze, and I realized my body didn’t feel so numb anymore. A wave of exhaustion swept over me, carrying along with it an ache in my feet, an even sharper pain in my stomach, and a pounding in my head.

I slumped suddenly in my chair, and Kat caught my shoulder before I fell.

“See?” Kat said as I righted myself with a grimace. “You’re burning yourself out. If you keep this up you’re going to get hurt, more hurt than you already are.”

I hated that she was right. I didn’t want to admit it, but she was right. I bit my lip, and stared at the floor a few feet away.

“Day? What are you thinking?” she said, looking from me, to the place I was staring at, then back to me. I finally looked up at her face, and realized I hadn’t made eye contact with her at all today. Her eyes were this deep brown. It was like standing in a forest when I looked into her eyes, with all the dark tree trunks surrounding me, or like being wrapped in something warm and soft. Her eyes made me feel like I was standing on the edge of… edge of something. Something important.

“I, uh…” I said, still looking into her eyes. If my stomach hadn’t given a painful twinge that made me blink, I’m not sure I would’ve stopped staring. “My stomach hurts,” I finished, moving a hand to clutch at my belly. Kat sighed and gave me a look of mixed annoyance and sympathy. But I think she was more happy that I gave in to her than anything else.

“Well I guess that makes sense, idiot, breakfast was like twelve hours ago.” Kat walked over to the stove, leaving me to sit limply at the table.

I watched with rapt anticipation as she stirred the chili, making sure it was still warm. My stomach twisted and rumbled loudly every few seconds or so, causing my face to turn an even deeper shade of red.

Finally she brought a steaming bowl to me, and I started eating as fast as I could without burning myself. I barely noticed the taste until halfway through the bowl, when my stomach had finally decided to shut up.

Kat noticed I was slowing down and said, “Feel better?”

“Mmhmm,” I said, my mouth still full of the thick chili.

“Can we call your parents now?”

I paused before answering. I still didn’t really want to go home yet. Not to my home anyway. But when I looked up to tell Kya no, she put a hand on my arm, and that summer breeze seemed to fill my whole body again. Only this time it didn’t come with a reminder of how tired I was, it came with the thought that… maybe this was all going to be okay. Even if I’m not okay now. And I wasn’t okay, not in the slightest. But she reminded me that it isn’t always going to be like this. Change is inevitable, both bad and good.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I said. “My phone’s in my backpack.” I made to get up, but my knees shook violently and my vision blurred so much I stumbled back into my seat. I rubbed my head and blinked as pain throbbed sharply against my eyes.

“I’ll call them,” Kat said with a little laugh at the look on my face, my brow furrowed together and my eyes wide like the look you would see on a confused puppy. She dialed the number, and talk to my mom for a few minutes. All I could think about while she was on the phone was how lucky I was to have a friend like her to help me. I just hope I’ll never take her for granted, I thought.

“They’ll be here in a few minutes,” she said, hanging up the phone.

“Thank you. For everything,” I said with a tired smile.

“No problem.”

#short story #original #original character #original story #evicted #tw: panic attack #cw: panic attacks

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sevi007 · 6 years

Note

Atreus teaching his half sister how to shoot a bow and arrow. She isn't so sure she can at first because...well because she just has no muscles at all, not like her big brother (and Atreus is still getting used to being called that), and CERTAINLY not like their dad. Atreus just laughs a little and says that archery doesn't take too much muscle, "Just a firm grip." And Faye, who is standing a bit away, tries not to cry because her son used the very same words she told him (1/?)

And she has a harder time not crying when she keeps watching a little longer because Atreus is showing so much patience and levelheadedness when he teaches, carefully showing Calliope where to put her hands in the same way has was shown, her tiny hand eclipsed by his barely grown one. Deimos surprises her gently by coming up behind her and praising her on how well she taught the boy. She laughs, quietly wiping at her tears, and asks why he didn’t think Kratos taught him? (2/?)

Deimos laughs, the Kratos he remembers didn’t have the patience to teach a cat how to catch a mouse. “The Kratos you knew was but a boy, a child.” Deimos stills, and then sighs, “Yes, and he has grown since then.” He smiles at her, “In no small part because of you. I don’t think I thanked you for that yet.” Faye shakes her head, “I did nothing that needs thanking.” She looks away, “He simply needed someone how didn’t…wish to use him.” She frowns, “And I barely managed even that.” (3/?)

Deimos doesn’t say something for a moment, before shrugging, “Fate has never held down my brother for too long, he has this issue about people dictating his life for him.” Faye’s face grows grim, “The Norn are significantly more troublesome than the sisters.” Deimos laughs again, “Nothing Kratos hasn’t dealt with before, right?” Her brother in law smiles at her for a moment before heading off to join Atreus and give a few tips of his own. Faye stays where she is, smiling at her family (4/4)

(I barelydare to add anything here because this is so perfect and I’m sniffling a bit)

The firstarrow Calliope releases swerves ever so slightly in its flight, hitting not thebullseye of the target they have set up for her but a good two inches to theright.

Calliope’sface falls, but before she even can comment on what she thinks to be a failure,Atreus exclaims with nothing but sincerity, “That was good!”

“We mightjust make a warrior out of you, little one,” Deimos chimes in, gently pattingthe girl’s small shoulder.

“But…. Imissed…”

“But only this much!” Atreus shows her, fingersalmost touching as he signals the distance, making her giggle. “The first timeI tried? I shot the arrow into the ground waybefore the target.”

“You did?”Calliope gapes at him. She has seen her brother – and isn’t that a dizzying,wonderful thought, she has a brother now- shoot arrows as quick as lightning and with an aim that never seems to failhim. Anything but hitting everytargets he goes for seems impossible for him.

“I did,” it’shard to not believe Atreus anything when he nods as serious as this. “I had totry again and again until I could aim and pull the string at the same time.Until then, I missed the target by miles!”

“That’snothing,” Deimos grunts, unfolding himself from crouching and standing to hisfull height as he grins down at them. “First time I tried the bow, I ended upalmost shooting your father in the foot!”

“What?!”

“No!”

“It’s true!He sidestepped it, though. Gave me a look as if I had done it on purpose, too –right, brother?”

Faye doesn’teven startle as she hears the answering hum right at her back, having feltKratos’ presence for a while now where she was watching their family. So shemerely tipped her head back, grinning at him. “Did he really?”

Kratos’eyes meet hers as he nodded ever so slightly. He seems for it to be only apassing glance, but he halts, eyes locking with hers. There’s a strange mixtureof emotions in those amber eyes – amusement, yes, but mostly still sadness, aglint of disbelief and oh-so-fragile hope, and Faye’s heart does a painfultwist in her chest.

He still thinks this is going to vanish on himat any second.

He thinks weare going to vanish on him.

She canbarely stand it to see that look. See it again– because she has seen it on him before, seen it whenever Kratos has held hisnewborn son in his arms, so unbearably gentle and hesitant and…

Fierceprotectiveness wells up inside Faye, mixed with nothing but love for thisbroken man she just wants to put back together.

Mind made up,she sways back and sideways, leaning seemingly casually into Kratos’ side.

“And youreally thought he would have done that on purpose?”She continues on as if nothing has happened, as if that moment hadn’t justpassed between them.

Willing himto understand. We’re right here. We’renot going to simply leave you again.

(If anyonebeside her notices how Kratos stiffens, startles, seems almost surprised by therealness and warmth of the sudden contact, then nobody comments on it. If theyalso notice him relax into it, slowly, with a deep breath, they know betterthan to comment.)

“…I’m stillnot fully convinced he didn’t mean todo that,” is Kratos’ slow answer after another beat, gaze lifting from thewoman by his side to his brother.

A brotherwho splutters, throwing his hands up in faked outrage to conceal his ownamusement as the children start laughing. “Did it on…?! After all this time, this is how you remember me?! As someonewho would… Brother, you wound me!”

“Either onpurpose,” there’s a rumble in Kratos’ voice, words brimming with emotion, butthe only thing showing on his face is a crooked, tiny smile. “Or your aim wasjust that horrible.”

“That’s it,”Deimos declares, turning around and crossing his arms, showing them his back.Shoulders shaking with barely withheld laughter that matches the way Atreus andCalliope are doubled over in mirth by now. “Never in my life – and afterlife! –has my honor been doubted like this. And by my own brother! I shall neverrecover from this! ”

And Fayestarts laughing, too, shaking as she presses a hand to her mouth to hide thelaughter but fails miserably at it.

Behind her,next to her, she feels a tremor going through Kratos, and she beams up at himas she recognizes his silent, withheld laughter.

For onemoment in time, somewhere between life and death, they are all together.

And theyare alright.

#ask #rex101111 #god of war #fanfic #my writing #partly mine #faye #deimos #kratos #atreus #gow #calliope #headcanon #it's rex' fault made me do it #gow afterlife au

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