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lamemaster · 7 days

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Feast of Blades

TW: Blood, gore, torture (not much but mentioned)

Pairing: Sauron x Reader

Genre: Grim-dark fantasy

Summary: The world you fought to save, the world promised to both Men and Elves, was being stolen. The Firstborn, once allies, turned into conquerors, rewriting history with the ink of lies.

Chapters: 1/ ?

AN: Very cannon divergent do not read if you don't like that ;) (unreliable narrators are lingering in this fic)

Sweat stung your eyes as your body contorted under the invisible weight. A thousand searing blisters erupted across your skin, each one a tiny scream of pain. Your bones groaned in protest, threatening to shatter under the relentless pressure.

You could feel the claws of death prying you from the face of the Earth as it had done for all your ancestors. But you held on. You did not deserve to die yet. You will not accept whatever gift your creator held in the world beyond this one. Not until you had your revenge.

Gritting your teeth, you bowed your head, the unforgiving earth digging into your bloodied palms. "Give me the power," you rasped, your voice hoarse with agony. "One chance. Turn me into whatever they crave the most. Make me desired by their kind and I will be their perfect weapon. I will sow discord within their ranks, bring chaos to their kingdoms. Just… let me live."

A chilling laugh echoed through the cavernous hall. Though unseen, you felt the presence shift on its obsidian throne. "And why should I grant such a boon?" a voice like silk wrapped around razor blades slithered into the darkness. A hint of amusement danced around the edges of the question, offering a sliver of hope amidst the despair.

"Because I cannot die," you hissed, channeling your desperation into defiance. "Their kind fear oblivion, but I crave to destroy everything they hold dear. I need to live to repay the debt owed to my ancestors. I will burn their palaces to the ground, raze their cities to ash. Let them drown in their own fear! I cannot die, my Lord."

Sauron's chortle morphed into a chilling chuckle, the sound echoing through the cavernous hall. He leaned forward, the darkness swirling around him momentarily revealing a single, glowing red eye. The knowing glint in that eye confirmed your worst fears – he remembered you.

“My lord has chosen to side with the firstborn and so have I. What makes you believe that I, will help you human?” The eye narrowed in mirth.

"The Battle of Unnumbered Tears," you spat, your voice shaking with a mixture of defiance and desperation. "A victory for Men, but not without cost. It was your humiliation, wasn't it? For failing to see the treachery in the East. You still burn with that humiliation, Lord Mairon, don't you?"

A flicker of surprise crossed Sauron's face, quickly masked by a sardonic smile. "A clever ploy, mortal," he purred. "You play on old wounds, hoping to stir rebellion in a servant who has long since accepted his place. But tell me, what makes you think I would choose your fleeting rage over the power I wield at my Lord Melkor's side?"

"And you think," he continued, his voice a silken rasp, "that I, who bore the brunt of Melkor's wrath, would stoop to further your pathetic vendetta?" A flicker of something akin to amusement sparked in his gaze.

Decades. It had been decades since the world had shifted beneath your feet, leaving you scrambling for purchase on the treacherous slope of survival.

Back then, your face, unmarred by the lines of time and the etchings of despair, held the youthful confidence of a captain under Lord Ulfang. Hope, naive and bright, had fueled your journey West, following tales of a gleaming Elven prince who promised salvation for the East.

You had fought side-by-side with the Firstborn then, battling orcs, goblins, and the tide of darkness Melkor unleashed upon Middle-earth.

Wide-eyed and awestruck by the ethereal beauty of your allies, you truly believed in the stories of unity and coexistence. It was the only way, your elders had said, to secure a future for your people, to stave off the encroaching famine that gnawed at the very heart of the East.

But victory, fleeting and bittersweet, had turned to ash in your mouth. The celebrations around meager rations, a mockery of their triumph, were soon replaced by a chilling realization.

The world you fought to save, the world promised to both Men and Elves, was being stolen. The Firstborn, once allies, turned into conquerors, rewriting history with the ink of lies. The lie spread like wildfire. Treachery of the Easterlings, they called it, twisting narratives to absolve their own thirst for power. Your people, once allies, became the scapegoats in a matter of days.

The memory of Lord Ulfang's screams still echoed in the desolate chambers of your mind. Skinned alive in the cell that held you and 20 others. His body left in the cell until some in the desperation of hunger nibbled on stiff fingers.

"They hunted us," you spat, a feral snarl twisting your features. "Like deer in the twilight, they stalked our fields, their laughter echoing as they cut down our men. Our women, they did not kill, but worse. They violated them in the name of their twisted breeding programs, forcing them to bear a generation of half-elven slaves."

Your voice cracked, the memory a searing brand on your soul. "And now, they lord over the remnants of our people, herding us into gilded cages they call cities. The Children of Eru, they proclaim themselves! Eru who turned a deaf ear to our pleas, who allowed our homes to be burned and our families to be torn apart!" Fury choked your voice, tears welling in your eyes.

You slammed your fist against the cold stone floor, the sound echoing through the cavernous hall. "I want to burn his world! This song of creation, this symphony of suffering – I want to silence it all! Eru who favored the Firstborn and left us to bleed in the dust. He doesn't deserve this world, this song!"

Tears streamed down your face, a mixture of rage and despair. You lurched to your knees before Sauron's unseen throne. "I offer you more than just my mortality, Lord Mairon. I offer you my song, the song of a people wronged, a song fueled by fury. Take my life force, take my flame imperishable, and use it to forge a weapon that will shatter the foundations of Eru's creation! I offer chaos."

The coarse fabric of a cloak brushed against your cheek, the scent of pine needles and lavender filling your nostrils. A low murmur of Elvish, its melody both beautiful and alien, filled your ears. You squeezed your eyelids shut, feigning unconsciousness, as another voice, baritone and familiar, spoke.

"We couldn't just leave her there," it said, a hint of exasperation lacing the words. "Not with Lady Aeredhel being with us."

A heavy sigh followed, and you felt the soft press of a body settling beside you. The floor beneath you was cool and smooth, a stark contrast to the rough earth you were used to. "Is she another one of your rescues, Glorfindel?" the newcomer inquired, pronouncing the name with a touch of reverence.

Recognition jolted through you. Gondolin. Sauron had chosen Gondolin as your first target.

A cold certainty settled over you, replacing the flicker of doubt. His motives – the machinations of a fallen Maia – did not matter. All that mattered was the delicious sting of vengeance, the promise of seeing the world burn as brightly as the hatred that consumed you. You were a spark, a tiny ember, but fanned by the winds of your suffering, you would become an inferno.

Let Sauron play his games. Let him dangle the promise of power and destruction. You would use him, twist him to your will, until Gondolin lay in ruins and the Elven screams echoed through the halls of Eru himself. In the end, there would be only one victor: you.

Keeping your eyes squeezed shut, you strained to catch every murmur. Turgon's head. A monstrous image filled your mind's eye, a centerpiece for the feast you would prepare for Sauron. But the feast had to begin somewhere, and a wicked smile played on your lips beneath the mask of unconsciousness.

The House of the Golden Flower. The perfect place to start. Your "magnanimous rescuer," Glorfindel, would soon learn the true cost of his misplaced kindness.

A groan escaped your lips, weak and trembling. You cracked open an eye, feigning disorientation as you met the gaze of a golden-haired Elf, who peered at you with the lingering entitlement of a savior.

#silmarillion x reader #the silmarillion #sauron x reader #cannon divergence #angst #grim dark #glorfindel x reader #morally grey characters #unreliable narrators

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bumblesimagines · 1 year

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Under The Moonlight

Part 4

Request: Yes or No

~~~

The blue of the sky clashed with orange and pink as the sun began to set. The vibrant gold rays provided a fleeting warmth before the cool of the night could take over. (Y/N) watched the sun slowly disappear beyond the horizon, as he typically did back in Greenland. His mother would sit beside him, weaving baskets and telling him stories of his ancestors and the Gods. Her (E/C) eyes would look different in the light and her skin would look warmer. He wondered, as the sun escaped his vision, if she had been watching it too. If she longed for the return of her son unaware he'd been sent to war.

His mother had always been his guiding light. His protector. His teacher. A woman who had gone through much and remained triumphant. A woman who would do anything for her family. It'd been her sword that had cut down the Christian who attacked their home. Her hands that tended to (Y/N)'s wounds. Her feet that walked the miles to Erik Thorvaldsson's home. Her arms that carried her son there. (Y/N) owed it all to her. And there was nothing he wanted more than to lean on her shoulder and hear her voice once more. To see her once again before her illness could claim her.

Leaves and twigs crunched and broke behind him. He continued staring forward, even as a hulky figure settled down on the grass beside him. Harald peered up at the darkening sky and spotted the stars beginning to appear one by one. Propping his knee up, he rested a sore arm on top and looked at the man beside him. He looked peaceful. Harald smiled at that. And when (Y/N) turned to look at him, his smile widened. (Y/N) stilled and averted his eyes, thumb running back and forth over the back of his hand. When he lifted his eyes again, his lips twitched upward into a small, subtle smile. Harald's heart swelled. (Y/N) was finally starting to warm up to him.

"What is King Canute going to do?" (Y/N) asked. Leif had gone to the warlords with his plan and after deliberation, King Canute dismissed him in favor of searching for something more favorable.

"I have reason to believe he'll go with Leif's plan. It's risky and will cost us if it fails. The other Jarls, however... They haven't come up with anything of value."

"The other Jarls are fools."

"Maybe," Harald chuckled, resting his other hand against the grass. "But they know more about England than you and I."

"What else is there to know? A boy sits on their throne and the enemy awaits right outside his gates." (Y/N) said, eyes shifting onto the castle in the distance, barely visible from their spot on the hill. Built from stone and barely reaching the sky. It looked more like a prison than a home. "Storming the castle will be like taking a toy from a child."

"I'll be taking more than his castle. I was promised his head and I will have it," Harald muttered, his fingers curling into fists. He looked- or rather glared- at the horizon. The bursts of orange and pink had slowly begun to give way to the dark blue of the night. "My brother, Sten, was part of the Kingsguard. King Æthelred slaughtered him, his own protector."

(Y/N) considered his words. He knew loss well. He knew what it felt like to lose a home, to lose a friend. But he'd yet to feel the grief and pain of losing a sibling. Leif, Torstein, and Thorvald were all healthy young men. And he was sure it'd take many years for death to even get a hold of Freydis. "You believe taking the boy's head... will be justice enough for you?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"What if this boy can undo his father's wrongs? Sons aren't their fathers. Leif is a good example of that."

"And you? Are you like your father?" Harald asked softly, hesitating before he reached out to place his hand over (Y/N)'s, fingers gently running over his skin. (Y/N) looked down at their hands, slowly turning over his and feeling Harald slip his fingers between his.

"Yes, I am." (Y/N) muttered softly. "Leif turns away from the violence. He's never wanted to be like our father. He's never wanted the darkness that brews in Erik. I guess I'll eventually face the consequences of that darkness."

"You are a good person, (Y/N). Someone bred from this... 'darkness' wouldn't weep over their fallen friends. They wouldn't have returned to the marshes for Leif. They wouldn't have given themselves up to protect Freydis." Harald told him gently, giving his hands a squeeze. (Y/N) raised his head to look at him. Harald gazed into his eyes with a sweet smile, slowly inching closer and closer.

"It's growing late." (Y/N) abruptly said, untangling his hands from Harald and pushing himself up from the ground. Bidding Harald a good night, he began heading back to camp where many Vikings had already settled into their tents for bed. Only a select few remained awake, speaking with others or roaming around the camp. (Y/N) approached the spot the Greenlanders had secured for themselves, finding them sound asleep. He smiled to himself and settled down beside his brother, resting his head on the makeshift pillow. Leif rolled over to face him and cracked open his eyes, offering him a tired smile and lifting his arm so (Y/N) could sleep underneath the blanket. Shuffling closer to his brother, (Y/N) let his eyes flutter closed once the blanket draped over him.

➸ ➸ ➸ ➸ ➸ ➸

The following morning, King Canute had chosen to execute Leif's plan. But they first needed to prepare for it. So (Y/N) found himself helping the others build what Leif called ships. Long and smooth wooden boards that they'd lie on and use to move through the water undetected. The idea of those so-called ships had earned hearty laughs from Arne Gormsson and his friends. But Leif had ignored them, confident in his plan. Building had taken them all day but it was of no worries to them. They needed the cover of night to set the plan in motion.

Standing amongst his friends, (Y/N) inhaled and exhaled deeply, pushing arrows into the quiver and silently praying to the Gods for victory. If Leif's plans failed, they'd all die and the massacre would go unavenged. His sister would be left with two less brothers and his mother would lose her only child. The families of their friends would be left without their children, lovers, and parents. If they won... they'd have the honor of saying they helped King Canute take London. And they could go home to their families and have a warm meal.

"We've come a long way, my friends," Leif said, setting his hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder and giving it an affectionate squeeze, gazing over his group of friends. "And I am fortunate. And grateful."

"We are blessed by the Gods, who alone know our destinies," Skarde smiled, placing a hand against Leif's cheek and looking over his friends. Shakily inhaling, he nodded to himself. "If this is where we say goodbye on Earth, then it is only a quick farewell as we will hail each other soon in Valhalla."

"Valhalla." Njal smiled and Liv slung her shoulder over Leif's shoulder, gazing at him fondly as she repeated the word as well. (Y/N) chuckled and stepped forward, slipping an arm around Njal's waist and leaning his head against the man's chest.

"Valhalla.." He repeated softly, feeling Njal rub his arm. The group stared at each other for a moment longer before smiling widely and leaning in for a group hug, giggles and laughter escaping them. They squeezed each other tightly and allowed their hug to linger as Skarde pressed fleeting kisses to their foreheads. (Y/N) leaned back and inhaled deeply, whispering one last quick prayer to the Gods above before they walked to the water.

Taking his wooden board from Harald and setting it in the water, (Y/N) waited for the others to get on their boards before they moved forward, laying on their stomachs and using their hands to push them forward through the waters as night fell over them. They reached the first dock with guards stationed at it. Harald reached for his crossbow and slipped onto his back, loading it and aiming as he went beneath the dock first. A guard stood up upon noticing him, squinting through the darkness. But before he could speak, Harald shot him and he fell to the ground with a mere grunt and thud. Njal and Skarde did similarly with the other two guards, leaving the dock without anyone to protect it.

Liv and (Y/N) left their boards to retrieve supplies while the others located the two rowboats at the dock. Tossing the ropes and wire down to them, they continued until they had the necessary amount of supplies before rowing quietly down the river. It didn't take long for (Y/N) to spot the bridge in the distance, made visible by torches. He reached up to his necklaces and ran his finger over the bones, keeping his breathing steady.

"Tarps," Leif whispered back to them and they leaned down, using the tarps they'd taken from the dock to cover themselves, leaving only one person to row. They waited beneath the tarps, listening to the sound of water and insect trills. After a few minutes, he felt a tap on his leg and the boat slowed down. He lifted the tarp off his body and glanced up at the underside of the bridge.

Quickly climbing onto the small wooden platform keeping the support beams above water, he extended a hand to the others to help them climb on. Taking the supplies from the boat, they worked quickly and quietly. Once finished, the boats continued on with only two people onboard. They remained still, glancing at each other. But when no horns echoed through the air, they knew they were in the clear. For now.

Climbing onto a wooden beam, the land around them began to appear more visible as the sun began rising. And soon, he heard a horn go off and bells began ringing. Lifting his head, he spotted numerous boats sailing over the horizon, just as Leif had instructed, with three ships sailing faster than the others. (Y/N) looked back at his brother and met his eyes, giving him a small nod before he reached down to take the axe from Liv. They began getting into position and waited, listening to the orders being shouted by the Saxons as they scrambled to prepare for an attack. Soon, an order was called and the chains beneath the bridge moved, lifting spikes from the water. But they remained still. Even as the sound of swords and axes slamming against shields began and King Canute stepped onto the bridge on horseback. When more Vikings were on the bridge, they began, axing away at the wooden beams to weaken the bridge.

Once satisfied with the amount of wood that had been chipped away, (Y/N) hoisted the axe to his hip and looked up at the sound of hooves passing over. Sharing a look with Skarde, (Y/N) caught the rope he tossed to him and began fastening it around the wood. King Canute would keep the Saxons occupied long enough for them to get their task done and then he'd draw out King Edmund to trap him on one side of the bridge.

"The tide is turning," Skarde called softly and (Y/N) turned his head to watch the rushing water turn in the opposite direction. With the tides turned, he heard the sound of shouting and soon, the sound of steel meeting steel. Hopping down from the beam, (Y/N) ensured the rope would hold one last time before he retrieved an arrow and tied a wire to the end of his arrow, and then tied the other end of the thread to the rope. Once the three boats were close enough, he lifted his bow and aimed for one of the shields on the third bow before releasing it, watching it soar through the sky and hit the shield. Arrows began falling down over the boats but the ropes had already been fastened.

The boats began rowing away, using the tide and the ropes to pull on the bridge, causing the wood to creak and break. The arrows stopped suddenly and (Y/N) held his breath, releasing it with a yelp when the arrows descended down on them. Archers on the bridge pointed their bows down at them, releasing arrow after arrow and effectively shooting down Tomas. (Y/N)'s gaze shot up to Njal, eyes widening when the blonde man staggered backward, coughing up blood before he fell into the waters. Liv screamed beside him, tears quickly flooding her eyes. (Y/N) wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her under the bridge, being mindful of the chunks of wood falling down. But they couldn't stay there for long. The bridge continued creaking and groaning, bits of wood falling down as it began leaning over. But not fast enough.

Leif climbed back on and began axing away at the beam he'd tied the rope around, aiming to quicken the process. (Y/N) quickly moved over to help him, hearing another grunt and looking over his shoulder in time to see Skarde fall into the murky waters. With an enraged cry, Liv ran out from under the bridge and lifted her bow toward the archers, successfully hitting one of them but at the cost of being shot in the shoulder. Wailing in pain, she stumbled back and fell into the depths.

The scream caught in (Y/N)'s throat, breathing becoming labored. The sound around him turned distant and his vision blurred from tears. The axe fell from his trembling hands, falling onto the ground with a muffled clang. Fingers wrapped around his arms, Leif's distant shouting reaching his ears as he was pulled from the beams and toward the water.

"We have to jump!" Leif yelled over the sound of the bridge falling apart and the cries of battle. The sound returned to (Y/N) and he grounded himself, staring at the rushing water before diving in with Leif as the bridge finally collapsed. He heard the water rushing around him, pieces of wood hitting his body. A shot of panic rushed through him, kicking his legs wildly and breaking through the surface. Hands suddenly grabbed his arms, heaving him up and onto a boat. (Y/N) coughed, feeling someone gently rub his back as he hacked up the water he had accidentally inhaled.

"We did it, (Y/N)!" Turning his head, (Y/N) met Harald's eyes but his gaze shifted onto the bridge in the distance. Broken right in the middle. Just as Leif had planned.

"We did it..." He breathed, a small smile spreading across his lips. His friends' sacrifices hadn't been in vain.

Many of the Vikings continued further into the castle to steal and ravage, Harald among them. But (Y/N) chose to reunite with his brother, checking him for injuries and thanking the Gods when he found none. Together, they began searching the banks of the river, looking for their friends. And soon, they heard the familiar sound of Liv's voice. Immediately quickening his pace, (Y/N) spotted her. She was drenched and staggering, completely out of breath. (Y/N) soon saw why.

"Njal... Skarde..." (Y/N) whispered, falling down onto the muddy ground and feeling the tears overwhelm his eyes. There his friends lied, drenched and dead. The waters had wiped away the dirt and grime off their faces but the sickly pale color of death had already begun settling in. They'd left Kattegat with six and they'd have to return with only three. (Y/N) gently brushed the hair out of Njal's face and looked over his face. They looked peaceful, almost as if they were merely sleeping.

"I got them out of the river... but I could take them no further," Liv explained, sniffling and staggering before collapsing in Leif's arms, pained whimpers and sobs escaping her.

"No, no, no, Liv." Leif quickly tucked his arm under her knees and lifted her up. "She's hurt, (Y/N)!"

"The shoulder, Leif, she was shot there." (Y/N) sniffled, wiping away the tears with the back of his hand and getting up on his feet. Standing beside the two, he gently pulled back on Liv's coat and winced at the blood. "Come on, we need to get her to the healers."

➸ ➸ ➸ ➸ ➸ ➸

"She has been shot with a double-barbed arrow. You cannot pull it out of her without killing her immediately." The healer explained, wiping his hands clean of blood. Liv lied on one of the cots, covered in sweat and shuddering violently. She'd snapped the arrow after being shot, leaving part of it sticking out of her shoulder. Leif gently dabbed her forehead with a wet cloth as (Y/N) softly stroked her brown hair, watching her wince every so often. "If it stays, the flesh will rot and she will die slow."

"What if I push it through?" Leif asked softly, peering up at the healer.

"She's too weak to survive it." The healer shook his head, giving them a pitying look and standing to check on the other injured. Liv swallowed and opened her eyes, staring up at them as her lips quivered.

"Do it." She croaked. "The arrow."

"You're not strong enough. It'll kill you."

"Let me decide that." Liv pleaded softly.

Leif frowned, cupping the side of her face. "I can't lose you, Liv." He whispered, stroking her cheek with his thumb. (Y/N) watched them, noting the pain in Leif's voice as he spoke.

"You won't," Liv assured, the trembling in her body growing by the second. Leif inhaled deeply and lifted his eyes to look at his brother. (Y/N) nodded and Leif sighed, reaching for his knife and holding it to her face. Biting down on the leather around the knife, Liv released a muffled groan as (Y/N) gently moved her onto her side before shifting so he was crouched down beside her. Leif stood and walked around the cot, leaning over her and reaching down to place his fingers on the part sticking out. Liv weakly wrapped her arms around (Y/N), watery eyes looking into his before she tucked her head into his neck.

"Easy, Liv, easy." (Y/N) whispered softly, cringing and closing his eyes as Leif pushed the arrow out. Liv shrieked and cried out, fingers curling and gripping tightly onto (Y/N)'s clothes. Leif grimaced, continuing to push until the head of the arrow stuck out on the other side of her shoulder. Gripping the head, he pulled it out as Liv continued to cry. (Y/N) carefully set her back on her back and grabbed some bandages to wrap around her shoulder before she could continue bleeding. Leif gently pried the knife from her mouth and set it aside, sitting at the edge of her cot and dipping the cloth into the water again before dabbing it against her forehead.

"She'll be alright, Leif."

"I know," Leif murmured. (Y/N) stood up and sighed, reaching over to rub his brother's back before stepping back and exiting the tent.

Many Vikings had taken up residence within the walls of the castle but the castle could only contain half the army. Those who remained outside of the walls moved their tents closer to the castle and celebrated the victory with ale and food. A proper feast would surely be held the following day once the castle was secure and all the nobles were captured. (Y/N) didn't expect any less from his people.

Moving through the camp, it didn't take long for him to spot Harald sitting by a fire, hands lifted to warm himself. He stared at the fire with a scowl on his face, glaring at anyone who stepped near him. (Y/N) inhaled softly and walked forward, taking a seat beside him on the log. Harald glanced at him, scowl fading. "Greenlander.."

"I assume you're sitting here pouting like a child because the Boy King lives?"

"Am I that obvious?" Harald chuckled dryly and dropped his hands, resting his arms on his knees instead. With a heavy sigh, he bitterly spoke, "King Canute has robbed me of justice."

(Y/N) watched Harald stare into the fire, his anger shifting into a look of disappointment. He'd been unable to get justice for his brother, (Y/N) could only wonder what ran through his mind. So, in an effort to keep him occupied, (Y/N) touched his necklace. "Remember when you asked about this?" Harald looked away from the fire, quirking a brow at him and nodding.

"I remember you ignored me."

"Yes, well," (Y/N) chuckled and Harald smiled. "When I was a boy, a bit before we were attacked, my mother gave me this thread to wear. She said for every creature you kill, you will wear one of their teeth as a reminder that you survived. It was a tradition started by her father's father. So, after I killed a fox, I added my first tooth to the thread."

"So, all of these are..." Harald trailed off, straightening his back and leaning in slightly to look at the necklace more closely. He lifted his hand to gently trace the thread and teeth.

"Some are foxes, wolves... bears."

"Bears?"

"Bears." (Y/N) nodded with a wide smile, dropping his hands onto his legs. "My mother's necklace is long but my grandfather's nearly reached to his knees."

"Really? He must've been a good hunter."

"Well..." (Y/N) cleared his throat and leaned in, bumping his shoulder with Harald's. Harald felt his breathing slow at the proximity, eyes flickering down to his lips. "His necklace had human teeth."

"What?" Harald blinked, eyes snapping back up to his as he gaped at him. (Y/N) stared at him, a grin slowly forming on his face before he broke out into laughter, reeling over and clutching his side. "You- You're lying? You little-" Harald clamped his mouth shut but he was unable to contain the smile spreading across his lips. (Y/N)'s laughter died down into giggles and he wiped away tears.

"Don't worry, Prince." He giggled softly. "Only half of them were human."

Before Harald could respond- or react-, someone called for him. Harald glanced back at them and sighed heavily, rising up from the log and looking back at him with one last smile. (Y/N) watched him walk away, licking his lips and lifting his hands to his necklace once more to undo the knot keeping the necklace tied around his neck. Slipping one of the bear teeth from the thread and standing, he stepped over the log and walked toward Harald.

"Prince!" Harald paused and turned, tilting his head and watching him step closer. Taking his hand, (Y/N) set the tooth in his palm and looked up at him. "Keep it as a reminder that you won a war, even if you didn't get the justice your brother deserved."

Harald stared at it for a moment, features softening. He smiled and curled his fingers around it, bringing his fist up to his chest and over his heart. "Thank you, (Y/N). I'll treasure it."

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #vikings valhalla x you #vikings valhalla x male reader #vikings valhalla #vikings #vikings valhalla x reader #vikings valhalla x y/n #harald sigurdsson x reader #harald sigurdsson x y/n #harald sigurdsson x you #harald sigurdsson x male reader #harald sigurdsson #leif eriksson

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essentialthyme · 7 months

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[Outer Wilds SPOILERS!]

In the very first loop, I figured out that the sun was dying. I went to the museum, saw the model and was reminded exactly of what a supernova is. 22 minutes later the sun explodes. I was like "oh... fuck" and I knew there was no "saving the solar system" so I didn't get the experience some people got when they went to Sun Station. It was actually disappointing, to finally get there only for the reward to be knowledge I already had. No realization dread. No just sitting there and waiting for the inevitable.

BUT!

Well, I HATE Ms. Dark Bramble. I hate her and her little monsters, they have no right to be that terrifying. I went there for the first time because I really wanted to meet Feldspar, and after a shit ton of suffering I made it, did what I had to do, restarted to loop and said "I ain't going back there, thank you" like a fucking IDIOT because of COURSE there's more to be done there. But I could do it later. Like, at the end of the game. Probably.

So I do everything I can think of, all my logs cleared except for the Vessel. Having done the math, I knew what I had to do. I had coordinates + a core I could use to power up... sigh. I decide to face my nightmare without retrieving the core from the ATP bc Ms. Bramble HATES me, and there's a 100% chance I will die. I do die. I get some practice. I reach the escape pod. I reach the seed, the tomb. I nearly cry, because I fucking love the Nomai and I really wanted them to make it, but they met their end long, long ago, and yet it doesn't get easier to me, seeing it.

I die some more, I reach the Vessel.

I read the first panel: It was all avoidable. That's a conversation for another time. Like, I have so much to say about it, it's insane. But we're on a timer.

I read the second panel.

Nomai talking about the dying stars, about the end of the universe. Talking about meeting up, somewhere that has the potential to be safe.

I don't think anything in the game could beat the feeling I got while I read that panel, slowly realizing that this conversation is RECENT. These Nomai might very well be alive! Right now! After exploring all of their lost civilization, their doomed history in this solar system. After meeting Solanum. I don't know.

After hours of playing a game where all my experiences where laced with grief, a tiny spark of hope.

I still have, at the very least, one more loop to go.

Even though I really want to, I know I can't save anyone. None of the Travelers, none of the Hearthians. I can't save Solanum. I don't know if the Nomai are really alive, or if it's just wishful thinking. Even if they are, I probably won't meet them. I won't get to talk to them and tell the stories about their brave ancestors, of their recklessness, of their genius, of their wonder.

All I have are the coordinates to the Eye.

And I owe it to those who came before me, the Nomai, the Hearthians, the people who played this game before I I did, to go and see it for myself.

I hope it's worth it.

#outer wilds #gaming #i don't know when i'll play it again but i'm going to try to play it tomorrow #my ps5 is set up in the living room and it's not usually a big deal #but i want to be alone for this #in case i cry

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blastovkatamarinecromancy · 1 month

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My DnD OC, Althorr the Utgardian. He's a Drow Elf Ancestral Guardian Barbarian. He was adopted by a Norse tribe of Barbarians from a region called Utgard.

I used references for the rune tattoos on his body. According to the guide I found online, the arrow pointing up on his abs is called "Teiwaz"which symbolizes Victory, Masculine Gods, and used as a Warrior Rune. The crooked H on his chest is prnounced "Hagalaz", which symbolizes Air and Transformation. So basically, it's a prayer to "Transform" to a "Masculine" god, kinda like a magical based HRT.

The tattoos on his biceps are Thorns, which are the symbol for the norse god Thor, who Althorr is named for. The Rune on his eyepatch is the symbol for Odin or Wotan.

More lore under the cut

Backstory:

Althorr was a foundling who was rescued as an infant from the harsh elements by a pair of hardy Norsemen from the Utgard tribe. His parents' corpses were found huddled around him trying the best they could to shield him from the cold. Other than being Drow Elves, there were no indications as to why they were there; the best guess is that they lost their way in the unforgiving forest and got caught in a blizzard. (His foster parents are named Valter and Theruize Utgardson. They passed away peacefully of old age at 85 and 87 respectively)

Althorr grew up with the Norsemen and learned their ways. His biggest aspiration as a child was to become an Ancestral Guardian Barbarian, a position of great respect and reverence within the tribe, the closest thing they had to a high priest.

At the age of 12, it was time for his coming of age ceremony, the first step toward being an Ancestral Guardian Barbarian. He will be required to preform one of the various deeds that his ancestors performed in order to commune with them in spirit.

He started with a tried and true deed: camp out in the wilderness, fast for three days and nights, and then break his fast with the heart of a small animal that he hunted with his bare hands. Upon completing this deed, the spirit of his great-grandfather appeared before him.

However, the spirit would not recognize him for the simple fact that he is not blood related to him. The spirit advised the young Althorr to seek another path, because he can never be an Ancestral Guardian Barbarian of the Utgard tribe.

That was 320 years ago. And during all that time, Althorr tried every deed known to his tribe's oral and written history in order to commune with the Ancestral spirits to prove his worth! And every time, he gets rejected! His fellow tribesmen feel that it is unfair and solemnly cheer him on. He has become a fixture of Utgard, as he has watched over seven generations of Utgardians. Although he spent most of his time in the forest surrounding their little village (earning him the Hermit background), he is still a well-loved and recognized member of their tribe. Countless men and women tell the stories when they were rescued or aided by Althorr over the many years, some even owing him their lives!

One such Utgardian is Gytha "Granny" Petersen, an ancient woman who knew Althorr since her childhood. Gytha made it her mission to comb through as many manuscripts, rune stones, and any record that was kept of deeds used to commune with the Ancestral spirits. Granny's research determined two things: 1) to call a spirit, the deed performed must be equal to or greater in significance than what that specific spirit accomplished when they were alive. That's why there are so many deeds! And 2) the older the spirit, the more authority they had among the other ancestral spirits.

Knowing that, Granny theorized that getting the approval of the oldest spirit is the best path for Althorr to receive the blessing of the Ancestors. And there are no older ancestor than Wotan! His legendary deed, a sacrifice of himself to himself, is know even beyond Utgard and the Norse tribes. Wotan sacrificed his right eye into the well of Mimir after hanging himself for nine days and nine nights at the tree of life Yggdrasil. To exceed that, Althorr will have to do the unthinkable: retrieve the eye of Wotan!

Althorr sacrificed his right eye to the well of Mimir and dove after it into the icy cold psudo-waters. He was submerged within it for nine days and nine nights in the abyssal darkness. Until at last he saw the golden sheen of Wotan's eye. He quickly retreived it, and escaped with his life from the clutches of Nidhogg, the icy Wyrm from the depth of the world tree. Upon reaching the surface, Wotan' eye in hand, he was met with the spectral stares of thousands of his Ancestral spirits.

The most senior members were not happy with him, and felt he committed sacrilege by even touching the eye! They were about to attempt to shove him back into the well as punishment, when hundereds of the newer spirits rose up against them in anger! These were spirits of people who personally knew Althorr, some of them grew up with him and knew him from when he was a child. Others only knew him after he became a fixture of their tribe. Many of them were those who owed him their lives and now were in a position to finally pay him back, even if it is after their death!

"How dare you do this to my boy?" Said one of the two very familiar Norsemen, the spirit of Althorr's adoptive mother "this boy toiled for centuries! He's more Utgaridan than you'll ever be!"

A fight was about to break out again, but was interrupted by a soul quake of cosmic magnitude. Every living and dead soul felt the tremors to their core as the spirit of Wotan materialized among them.

Wotan's spirit has become so powerful, that it diffused its essence in every nook and cranny of the Norselands. It assumed a vaguely humanoid shape for the first time in centuries, which was a momentous occasion in and of itself!

Thanks for finding my eye Wotan not so much spoke, as was being felt but alas I need it not any more.

Wotan then winked, and the sun was eclipsed for a brief moment. He then started again with

Keep it!

Wotan dissipated once again; with his disappearance, the eye of Wotan hovered gently, before ramming itself into Althorr's empty eye socket! The millennia that the eye spent in Mimir's well of knowledge, coupled with Wotan's own natural powers and hunger of knowledge, has created a powerfully curious magical item. Althorr could barely contain the flow of information into his mind. His only respite was whenever he closed his eye, which is why he wears an eyepatch.

Finally, at the age of 332, Althorr is able to start on his path to becoming an Ancestral guardian Barbarian! He decided to travel the world to make up for all the decades he spent as a hermit away from society. It could be a subconcious nudge from the Eye of Wotan, and its hunger for knowledge and new experiences, which influenced this decision. Gytha Petersen, who has long since compiled her findings of Norseland culture and stories into various books, helped Althorr facilitate this desire by tasking him with the job of reaching out to scholars and librarians across the realm with copies of her books. That's right! Meet the book-selling Barbarian, Althorr the Utgardian!!

#my art #Dnd OC #dungeons and dragons #OC #Barbarian #dnd barbarian

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crowdomain · 2 years

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Why Darkest Dungeon Is A Minimalistic Storytelling Masterpiece

Asa speaking! This is going to be a long essay-post, so buckle up! In case you don’t have enough time to read through all that, or you just don’t feel like it, here’s a TL;DR: Darkest Dungeon, although not story-driven, manages to tell you just enough about the characters and the circumstances to get you hooked, but not enough to clearly explain what exactly is happening, giving the players lots of ground for theories, while at the same time forcing no plot on the players. The best a player can do to understand the characters is collect the bits and pieces we are given and interpret them.

The Darkest Dungeon fandom is one of the wildest I’ve been in. Everyone has different interpretations for the same characters, and the headcanons (well, most of them) manage to uphold the integrity of the characters to a great degree, despite how random they can become. This of course owes to the way the plot is written and executed.

I admit, a big reason why I play games is the plot. I love myself a good story, with fleshed-out characters I can relate to, and having a story is a great way to keep me involved even if the game ends up being too hard, because I will push through in order to see where the story goes.

Darkest Dungeon is not one of those games. I originally wanted to play it for the art style and the memes, to be honest, and it has grown into so much more since then. I play when I’m bored, I play while chatting with my friends through Discord, and strangely enough, I play when I’m feeling too stressed (at least when my favourite character dies I’ll be stressed because of that and not because I didn’t pass my lessons). I think about the game every day, and it never ceases to amaze me, both because every mission is unique and because you can always find something new in the game, a new detail, or perhaps a playstyle you hadn’t thought of before.

This game is one of the most original ones I’ve seen. Many concepts are subverted or twisted and made into something spectacularly different than what you would expect. At the same time, the plot and the differences are not forced upon the player; a player who is in it for the gameplay can just go on and start assembling new teams to fight bosses without having to go through pesky cutscenes, and the characters are essentially nobodies, which takes away the worries of what would happen if they die. (In fact, I believe that this is one of the aspects that discouraged many players from playing the second game; the fact that, unlike the first one, this one is more character-oriented. I understand and respect that, no two people find the exact same allure in a game. That, however, is a matter for another day).

On the other hand is the player who likes the story. This player, a player more like me and Bedelya, can spend countless hours looking into game content, and still find new things to fuss about. (This may be because both of us love literature and giving meaning to everything, but I’ll get to that in an instant). Where the gameplay-oriented player may enjoy the Ancestor’s monologues before the bosses because they offer a distraction until the game loads or collects the journal entries to boast that they collected them all, the story-oriented player enjoys them because they offer a deeper understanding of the game’s world. They will read them carefully, and perhaps wonder when all these troubles began.

The story-oriented player, however, will not stop there. An inquisitive mind will wonder who these people are, what brought them to the Hamlet. A keen eye will notice that the stressed players’ lines are no mere filler text. Maybe a skill or two has some strange properties. A restless player in love with stories will try to give those little details meaning, and in turn, once they have their meaning, they will seek to perfect their understanding.

This is where the wonder of this game lies: even being given the least details possible, one can deduce the identities of the characters, their motives, their loves, their fears…

You begin the game with two characters: Reynauld and Dismas. You only know their names, their professions, and their skills, and the fact that something drove them to the Old Road, where they are to help the Heir reclaim the Estate. You open up Reynauld’s character sheet. One of his quirks is “Kleptomaniac”. With a little looking around, you learn that this is a behavioural disorder people might develop when under extreme pressure. This means that Reynauld had been in a stressful environment for a while.

You take your heroes to a mission. Dismas is stressed and becomes irrational. Many of his quotes seem to be about a woman he loved, who is now following him in the form of a ghost. These might be the ramblings of a madman, but he references similar –not identical, but similar- scenarios a lot of times, and you begin to wonder: are those bits and pieces of his past, a past he left behind?

A jester comes into your stage coach. This man carries with him a sickle and a lute. One of his skills, only one, has a dirk. This skill has low accuracy compared to the rest. It bypasses guard and drives him one rank forward. You execute the skill in combat. He seems like he’s putting his whole weight on the hand with the dirk. Even the grave robber, who uses her pickaxe only once, has it mentioned a lot of times; the blacksmith, the guild, even on her equipment, it gets upgraded alongside her far more used daggers. The jester’s dirk is nowhere to be seen. Something is off in this situation.

Next up we have the comics; each of the characters has one comic that depicts a part of their past, the one that played the most important role into making them the characters we know in the game. The catch: these comics have absolutely no words, not even as sound effects, like “slash”, or “bang”. One has to pay close attention to understand what is happening, and even then, many of them remain mostly unclear. Why did the antiquarian kill the wizard? How did the occultist get to the shrine?

Even something as small as the characters’ unique trinkets can say something about them. In the base game, the bounty hunter’s trinkets are mostly helmets, so it might mean that it is highly important for him to hide who he is. He also has two talons, which show an affinity for birds of prey, who kill swiftly and silently. He is shown, in his comic, to kill four men in a matter of minutes, and he has a whopping amount of 21 quotes comprised purely of three dots, showing silence, and 14 more with non-verbal sounds. Then, you get to his Crimson Court trinkets: a vengeful kill list, which means that there are people who have wronged him, and a collection of teeth, which means that he keeps trophies from his victims, which, being a bounty hunter, could mean that he needs to show proof of his work, or, if he’s been killing for a long time, that he has developed a serial killer urge, and that removing the molars from his victims is something he feels the compulsion to do. Perhaps it is both. Then, there’s his quote for the Crimson Court set: “They Will Pay”. We know for sure that someone wronged him, but we know neither what happened nor the identity of the offending party, or how many people they were.

It has become clear that this game offers huge amounts of information, while at the same time offering very little. In my opinion, this also makes it extremely fleshed-out and realistic. You meet those people who came here for work. You only know what they do, not who they are, but their words, the items on their person, the way they move, they are the only things that let you get a glimpse into these people’s desires, ideals and worries. You are a cold employer, or a nonchalant colleague; you do not know who they are. You are only interested in their qualifications and in keeping them in good shape, so they can serve you better. There are no guides to tell you of these folks’ past, no in-game flashbacks to tell you why they are who they are. The only way to learn about them is to study them, learn about them, perhaps even ask them about their past. The comics, if you’d like to take it that far, could be times when a character asks another about themselves, and they answer. There are no words, because that was a long while ago. There are feelings, hence the frequent appearance of the stress halo and the importance of colours, and they all see things differently, hence why each of the comics has its unique elements; the plague doctor’s comic is the only one illustrated like a guide to a procedure.

I enjoyed talking about this subject. It’s been on my mind for a while now. Perhaps those are some far-fetched ideas of a person with lots of curiosity and the desire to find meaning and explanations in everything. Perhaps all this is too much and false. Perhaps Red Hook really did intend to hide all those details and have players find them out. I don’t know for sure, and I won’t know until I ask.

I would like to thank a Tumblr post I saw a while back for bringing the Dirk Stab’s stats to my attention. I do not remember the blog I saw it in, sadly, but I would love to find it and give it proper credit. I would also like to thank one of my friends, who made me realise that, even though you start the game idealistically (“Oh no, look, my highwayman Caen got masochistic, time to get him to the gambling hall!”) you end up becoming quite the mean boss as you see that you can’t keep everyone in good condition (“Oh, my antiquarian got a creeping cough again? Who cares, she doesn’t attack anyone. What’s her name again?”). Lastly, if you got this far, I’d like to thank you, for sitting through this essay and listening to my ideas. Give yourself a pat on the back and a cool glass of water!

#darkest dungeon #darkest dungeon theory #asa rambles #darkest dungeon crusader #dd reynauld #darkest dungeon highwayman #dd dismas #darkest dungeon jester #dd sarmenti #darkest dungeon antiquarian #dd josephine #darkest dungeon occultist #dd alhazred #darkest dungeon bounty hunter #dd tardif #darkest dungeon grave robber #dd audrey #darkest dungeon plague doctor #dd paracelsus

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kaelsleftverdantsphere · 1 year

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Emotional damage

What if Illidan found out about Kael's plans before he left for the Tempest Keep

---

"You have no idea what you're dealing with, Kael'thas..." The demon hunter said, watching his companion.

"I know exactly what I'm dealing with..." Kael smiled and looked away. "I've known you for a while now, Illidan."

"You think so? The time you've known me for means nothing-"

"-compared to the time you spent in that one filthy room... I know all of your sob stories by now. I know all of you..." He touched the demon hunter's chest. "And I will use that knowledge to my advantage."

"I wonder, Kael'thas... how we would be under different circumstances..." He buried one of his clawed hands in the prince's long hair and pulled it, which was followed by a whine from the smaller elf. "If I didn't find out about your little plans... If you didn't have them in the first place. I always thought you were a smart one, Sunstrider..."

Kael'thas laughed and traced his nails over the tattoos on Illidan's chest. "Are you the one who should judge me, darling, truly?" He giggled. "I am not the one they call the betrayer after all, am I..."

"You might as well be..." Illidan growled, pulling Kael's hair, hard. "I trusted you..."

"Ow, Belore, Illidan... Stop, you're making me blush-"

"You're impossible!" Illidan let go of his hair and just looked over Kael's room, thinking of what his next course of action should be. "I can't believe that you would... you would side with an enemy-"

"Of course I would! You aren't delivering on your promises and I had to make a choice! I won't let my people suffer just so that I can stay with you, you cannot possibly expect that from me..."

"I am trying, Kael'thas! I am doing everything in my power to defeat the legion and all you do is whine and SIDE WITH THE ENEMY?"

"But defeating the legion is not what I asked you for, Illidan... I provided you people, power and help to achieve your goals if you help me... And you didn't uphold your side of the bargain."

"You are nothing but a selfish little brat, I shouldn't have ever agreed to working with you..."

Kael smirked. "And what if I am? You still fell madly for me, Illidan..." He said, with that soft little voice he usually used to lull the other to sleep. With not a hint of venom or a bite, yet still piercing.

"You are a stupid child, Kael'thas... I can't believe I could've ever felt anything but distaste towards you." Illidan's own voice was strong and he himself was determined to not let the other elf get inside his head. "I should have known what kind of a person you are just based on Dath'remar being your ancestor..."

"Oh so now you're going to talk about my family? Do you want me to remind you about yours?" The bite was back in full force and Illidan could tell that he did touch a sensitive spot within the prince.

"Mine? There's nothing you could possibly dig up that could hurt me... I had years to mourn and years to accept... You did not have that luxury, have you, Kael? Tell me..." Illidan smiled and grabbed the blood elf by the chin, holding it up as to see into his eyes perfectly. "Do you miss your father?"

Kael stood there, unmoving for a moment, but his eyes couldn't lie.

"You miss him, don't you?" Illidan lightly stroke his cheek with his other hand. "He could have been here, do you know that? If you only weren't so selfish and actually were there with him..."

"Shut your foul mouth!" Kael took a step back, tripping and falling onto his couch. "You have no idea how all of that went down!"

"Oh but I know, little strider... I know... And do you know who told me?" Illidan took a few steps to the couch, placed his hands on Kael's shoulders and lowered his face to his. "You did..." He whispered. "You argued about how you know me but oh no, prince... I know you-"

"You don't know shit, demon!" He could feel his insides boiling when he attempted to slap Illidan, but the other's hand was noticibly faster.

"Oh... Do you wish for this to get physical? Do you really want your life to end that quickly, love?" He was holding the other's wrist. "I will crush every single one of the bones in your pretty body if you continue acting like a pest-"

"And I will kill you, Stormrage..." He reached his other hand up to Illidan's head and grabbed one of his horns, pulling it. "I will be the end of you..."

"What?" The demon hunter couldn't help but laugh. "Like you killed your own mother-?"

Kael's mouth opened, he was positively shocked. "H- How dare you say that!"

"How dare me? How dare you think you would be even remotely able to hurt me..." He straightened his back, pulling Kael up from the couch. "See... I won't kill you-"

"Because you are a coward!" The prince spat.

"A coward? No... I won't kill you, because making you watch the lives, of those you care so deeply about, shatter... That will be much better for the both of us..."

"What... What are you talking about?"

"I'll make you watch as your troops die on the battlefield... Slow, desperate and powerless without your much needed mana..." The demon hunter laughed. "As you will be shaking and begging for me to kill you..."

"You cannot do that!" Kael lost his grip on the horn and instead used that hand to try to set his wrist free. "You can't just imprison a prince, if you don't know that-"

"And just who is going to fight me to set you free?" He tightened his grip. "Noone will come looking for you... Noone will care, when I tell them you've betrayed them..."

Kael'thas' eyes widened. "You... Illidan... You- you wouldn't do that... Not to me-"

"Oh? You think I wouldn't? Just how I thought you wouldn't betray me?"

"I didn't mean to!" He cried. "Illidan I didn't- I might have- I might have fucked up, okay- but-"

"Oh... Lying to save your ass? Your father would not be proud of you doing that, would he?"

"He wouldn't be proud of a lot of things I had to do..." Kael stopped struggling against Illidan. "He would be disgusted if he saw that I joined forces with you... And he would be even more disgusted if he knew I fell in love with you..."

"You didn't, Kael'thas... You don't hurt people you love..."

"Then how come you got to hurt Tyrande?"

"I never hurt her-"

"Why do they call you the betrayer then? You betrayed the ones you love yet you still argue your actions were justified-"

"You know nothing-" Illidan shook his head and let go of the prince's wrist.

"I actually know a lot, darling..." He said, rubbing his wrist. "How come you get to hurt me but when I hurt you, it's not the same..."

"Because you are the one who-"

"-who betrayed you? I BARELY EVEN DID ANYTHING YET!"

"But you were planning to! I cannot forgive you for that! It's still treason!"

"I had my reasons just as much as you had yours all those years ago... You should be the one who understands me, not the one who threatens to ruin everything I fought for up until this point-"

"You want my understanding? After everything I've done for you, after everything I gave you- you still want more?"

"I just... I only want my people to know peace again..." Kael's voice broke slightly at the end of sentence. "I want to know peace again, Illidan... And I didn't see any other solution..."

"I was your solution, Kael'thas... I just couldn't only work in your best interest... Sometimes you have to put some things on hold..."

"But we don't have the time to be put on hold, Illidan... I am unwell and the more I fight in your name the worse I get- all of this is killing me and you don't want to help me... Yet you want to tell me I am the one betraying you? You're so incredibly dense-"

"I am trying, Kael'thas!"

"That's what I'm doing as well! Listen to me!"

"There was never a moment when I wouldn't be listening to you, love..."

"I know of so many moments like those, but of course, you are never the one to blame for anything..."

"That is untrue... I know of my wrongdoings and I am trying to correct them... Unlike you."

"Yes, Illidan... Because the only thing I am doing is surviving-"

#kael'thas sunstrider #kael'thas #world of warcraft #illidan stormrage #illidan #kaellidan #SPHERE FICS

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hareofhrair · 1 year

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hmm... Lets go for a reading with Feanza!

in the dead of night, a rather large figure could be seen walking through the allies, based on the occasional stopping and going its very clear that the individual is not a local in the slightest...they wore a coat of muted colors with a nice tall collar, though with their horns poking out one could easily spot the clint of gold.

they await outside the door until addressed, and if let in from the cold.

???:I got recommended to you by Dazzet...?

???: he said it would be... "a glimpse even regardless of how miniscule to an enlightening journey." whatever the shishimied fuck that means...

they remove their coat, revealing more likely then not unsettlingly a plethora of fuschian tells, from the brightly colored fins to the symbol...

Feanza: shit, sorry, my names feanza, this is supposed to be like... a fortune telling session?

Feanza: I guess I also need to ask some kinda question...

Feanza: in the future, I know im supposed to attempt to run shit...I think my question is wither or not im going to be the one to fix shit. christ, is that to vauge...?

Shafan invites the tall figure inside with only brief hesitation after they say Dazzet sent them. They'd had more than few colorful characters in here recently, so they were braced for the unusual. A particularly wild mutant, a clown possibly. Nervous as they are of clowns, they trusted Daz never to send them someone dangerous. Their faith in Dazzet flags somewhat as the seadweller reveals herself. Oh jegus. Oh sweet ancestors. That's not just a seadweller. That's an heriess. Shafan is visibly trembling, but at the question they clear their throat and scramble for their cards.

"Right. A reading, =of c=ourse. Yeah. I can d=o that. Have a seat."

They might murder Daz a little bit for this later, but they sure as hell aren't gonna say no.

"Pleasure ta meet ya," they say, mustering a welcoming smile despite their obvious nerves, settling down in front of a low table covered by a cloth. "Nah, that ain't t=o=o vague. Can w=ork with that just fine. Just try n=ot ta f=ork me iffin ya d=ont like the answer, alright?"

Shafan shuffles the cards, humming to themselves, flourishing and riffling them like a practiced card sharp despite their shaking hands. After a moment, they reassemble the deck, holding it out to Feanza.

"Put yer hand =over it and think =of yer questi=on," they say, and wait for her to do so. "Then ch=oose three cards."

They let her do so, gesturing for her to lay them face down on the table.

"Awlright, let's see what we've got," they say, cracking their knuckles and beginning to calm down a bit as they get into their groove. They tap each card with a claw, then flip the first one, The Wheel.

"Bringing =out tha big guns right away, I see," Shafan says. "Supp=ose that makes sense given what yall g=ot g=oin =on. So, tha Major Arcana tells a story, and tha Wheel is tha halfway p=oint in that st=ory, tha turning point. It represents change, and cycles of change. That's what yer after, right? Well, it's what yer gonna get. Change is c=omin, n=o matter what y=ou d=o. N=o tellin what shape that change is g=onna take, but rest assured, it aint all up ta y=ou."

They turn over the next card and whistle under their breath. It's the Tower.

"N=ow, tha T=ower gets a bad rap," Shafan says quickly. "Pe=ople tend ta say it means disaster and st=op there, but that aint tha wh=ole st=ory. See, in tha story this tower came from (or one of em anyway), tha tower kept fallin over, on account of there was a pit below it, and two dragons inside, fightin to the death. Until them dragons was dealt with, tower could never be rebuilt. And that's the point of tha Tower, tearin shit down so you can build it up right again. Means havin tha courage ta break what needs to be broken. I don't think yer short a courage, but maybe yall need a reminder a why tha shit needs ta be torn down. Tha point a all that demo is tha rebuildin, feel me?"

They flip the last card, nodding thoughtfully.

"The Seven of Cups," they say. "represents choices. You've got a lot a choices ahead of ya, and some of em lead ta what you're after, and some of em lead ta disaster. What matters is, ya can't Monty Hall this shit. Ya gotta commit. There's a course a action ya know ya ought ta be takin, and if yall don't buckle down and follow that course to tha end, ya aint gonna get nowhere ya want ta be. That's what yer really down here talkin ta me about tonight, aint it? You're not sure about yer decision. Yer wobblin. Thinkin, maybe I won't make a difference, maybe it's not enough. Well I'm here ta tell ya, whatever ya do, it's gonna be a hell of a lot better than nothin."

They sweep the cards up and back into the deck with a decisive gesture.

"Hope that was what ya wanted ta hear," they say. "Want me ta keep goin? Or ya got what ya need?"

#asks #tarot reading

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aurik6 · 11 months

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My silly hcs on phantom blood au 😮‍💨

Phantom Blood seems to fit in my top 3 fav parts since it has young Dio haha. That's the reason I'm so inspired to create smth in that timeline...

♡ So the relationships between Dio and Jonathan are kinda obvious in canon, but I'd like to see more of their interactions at the younger age when Dio's personality hasn't fully formed yet, so he'd probably be able to hesitate about his *evil* actions towards Jojo. Yeah, in canon he's been treating Jonathan badly from the very beginning, hasn't even hiding it, but according to his immaturity he could feel conflicted sometimes? Maybe thoughts like : "and what if I just leave this plan of destroying Joestars' lives and try to adapt to this new "better" family which surely gives me opportunities to reach high places or gain authority in the future???" Although then I'm missing Dio's maximalism.

If only who could have some thoughts of embracing new reality and Jojo as the brother? Jojo is the best option to u know.. comfort ppl? Literally, there are all conditions to make a gentle human being out of Dio, huh.

Also I just want to write more double-meaning situations between these two. When from Dio's side it's not obvious wether he's a pure evil creature (from his early teens) or he's just so traumatized that he acts violent unintentionally and is silent about seeking some help (because of pride or fear or stuff) from the outer world (aka Joestars family). And Jonathan who doesn't want to believe that Dio sincerely hates him but can't justify his actions and also hesitant to explicitly explain his step bro's behavior. The "dumbness" of Jorge Joestar is kinda fitting, since the trope of parent who devalue one of his children's words towards other child's wild actions is perfect. Haha.

So it works like a psychological horror because everything is unclear and weird

♡ The figure like a true-ally for Dio. We've seen Pucci as this type of faithful follower, in Diego's case it was Hot Pants, although she's more independent, but still. And Part 1 Dio had some... weird minions lol. So another Italian catholic person would fit in perfectly, tho it's better to make a reasonable circumstance why these two will work well together. At first I thought about Hot Pants alter-ego, still the reason behind this thing is meh. Love? Certainly big no, it's meaningless for both of them. A common aim? Well Dio's was to become the richest man in the entire world, destroy the Joestars, then denial of his own humanity. And hers, who's a religious person? What would that possibly be what also crosses Dio's interests? Idk. Maybe another pov on religion or Christianity itself and fanatism of Dio? Supporting him at this rate? Boring. I'll fuck this shit up immediately.

♡ Demons. Yes we have vampires there, yes some magic things like stands, hamon, saint corpse, those freaking arrows, the mask... Demons isn't something which isn't suitable 🤧.

So Dio's ancestors were dealing with demons, kings of Hell. And maybe Dario owes something to a greedy demon even after his death, so the debt goes to the son. I want to use the image of King Paimon (because I love Hereditary lol). And Dio learns some weird stuff from this demon before becoming a vampire, so this creature becomes his new ideal, since he didn't have any role models. Tho, Dario aka anti-role model. And here's this demonic great king of Hell huh. So they'll have some sort of contract, after their interactions Dio has ambitions of becoming as great as this demon. And also reject the humanity because of demon's influence. Also King Paimon will tell him about his own origins aka Heaven and this funny story how Lucifer and Paimon and other rebellions were banished from there. And THIS will be the motivation for Dio to think about reaching heaven himself, since you need to have almost a God power to reach it, although even the strongest creatures like Lucifer and Paimon (aka former high class angels) couldn't fight for it for a long time huh and were defeated by God's army.

♡ About King Paimon. Originally I wanted him to be a spiritual demon who chooses the body to reincarnate in Hot Pant's alter ego in Phantom Blood universe. And in this case it'll be her ancestors who were dealing with demons to become rich etc etc, so the girl tried to wash away her sins by praying to God, BUT it didn't help huh🧐. So King Paimon found her and made her his vessel. However he didn't like the body as it was female and the demon prefers to be in male one (stolen from Hereditary I don't even hide it.) So HP would be partially (?) possessed and somehow Paimon choose Dio as his male vessel — tho I didn't make up why Dio and how. If Paimon sees "evil origins" of Dio's soul it's too naive, huh. And then, since Paimon chose Dio's male body he'd like to stay with HE'S female head since he likes her feminine face. It's from description of Paimon – "he's a man woth effeminate face". That's funny and cooperates woth canon story where Dio's body was destroyed by Jonathan, so there was only his head. As the result, it turns out that Paimon is kinda faceless, because he prefers human's appearance.

But idk why I felt conflicted about it. So I manged to make him a proper look as a demon, his true appearance. Guess he'll be a tall young-looking man with greyish skintone, but he'd look more like middle eastern person and would wear some south eastern clothes. The main colours are black and golden, his eyes would be completely white and shining in his demon form – in human they'd be jet black to make his gaze soulless. Also dark lips and eerie smile. Most of the time he'd be calm. I'd like to imagine him and his dromedary are wearing crowns. Armenian ones are just perfect! Paimon would have dark long hair which are covered with his headdress. I don't want to show his hair much, it's like I want to define his face with headdressing and loose scarf around his neck. Also he'd wear a lot of golden eastern jewelry, the ones which look like coins on chains arounf the forehead. Also earrings and rings.

#lol #kirua9 #phantom blood silly au

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caramiaaddio · 1 year

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@markiplier as someone from an immigrant family…that was beautiful. I honestly cried at the parts that spoke about family because that really is what it feels like to grow up as an American child with an immigrant background. The feelings of hating your culture because it makes you different, and then growing up and learning to have a deep respect for your ancestors that went through so much to change everything. It hit especially hard talking about what it’s like to be separated from so much of your family because of that gap.

Major kudos to your mom for telling her story in such a heartwrenching but also warm and funny way, and honestly…a major thanks to everyone involved for this reminder of how much we owe to our family that brought us here. The whole documentary reminded me of the love I had for my great-grandma and because of this I’ve already made plans to pay my respects at her grave

Thank you for this beautiful project

#markiplier #markiplier from North Korea #it really did hit home for me #my grandfather was the first in my family to come to america #and he was so insistent that we were American now that we didn’t get much of our culture or language growing up #and I only learned maybe ten years ago just how much my family owes to him and his mom #I mean grandma Anna was stolen from her home. lost her family and her possessions. escaped some many horrible situations #and then she came here and gave us this life and just. I don’t think we ever thanked her enough for that #I’m glad that she had so much pride in me when I was alive for going into the arts #because I’m so proud that I’m related to her. that I have her eyes and her nose and her hair #and I haven’t actually visited her grave since she was buried two years ago #and yeah this just reminded me how proud I am of my immigrant roots #even if the place we come from wasn’t good then and is even worse now #I’m proud to say I’m russian if only because that’s what my grandma was

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mihrsuri · 2 years

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Hi I binged watched Rings of Power episodes 3-6 because I finally wrangled my brain. Disclaimer: I am The Tolkien Dork and like yes, do I have issues (not the diversity though if anything please increase the diversity)? Absolutely. But I’m also having a good time/a lot of feelings so that’s the part I’m going to talk about. @nocompromise-noregrets @isagrimorie

It’s not that the actor who plays Elrond isn’t good (he is) it’s just I really really want a biracial actor to play Elrond, because they are doing this thing with biracial themes (Elrond Half-Elven*) and I, a biracial person want a biracial actor. Also look, I do not read fic for Tolkien and yet somehow I would read so much about Elrond and the experience(s) he has had as a mixed raced person. SO MUCH. I do also appreciate we are getting kind hearted Elrond here as well.

Elrond and Tar-Miriel need to hang out and he needs to tell her about his twin and her ancestor like, I need that to happen.

Is Halabrand actually going to end up as The Witch King rather than being Sauron? (I mean, still could be Sauron tbh. Could also just be a good guy).

Tar-Miriel kind of knowing her fate, her people’s fate is…Something That Is Ow.

Stabby!Galadriel is Stabby! (And awesome)

There’s definitely some lore dropping for Tolkien Nerds (aka me) that they mostly manage to do without like, directly referencing stuff that happens in The Silmarillion (which is possibly why we don’t get Kidnap Dads references? Yet?)

I love Disa SO MUCH. SO MUCH.

What they’ve done with the orc origin story is fascinating and beautiful - because you know, Eru probably has a way for them to be brought back (the backstory is that some of the first Elves were taken and tortured and twisted and then just imbued with pain and hate All The Time by Morgoth - at least that’s one version Tolkien had)

*Elrond is actually ‘divine being/human/elven’ biracial.

#tv: rings of power #lil the tolkien dork #my issues include WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT LINE ABOUT ELROND NOT KNOWING SUFFERING AND LOSS GALADRIEL #WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON WITH THE DWARVEN/NOLDORIAN RELATIONSHIPI HATE IT #THAT IS NOT MY GIL-GALAHAD #GIVE MY NINE BILLION PERCENT MORE NON WHITE ELVES PLEASE

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dulcewrites · 1 year

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Happy new year!!! I'm glad you are extending FMO, it's a series I can't live without it. You are one of my favourite Aemond authors and I absolutely lobr with characterisation of Aemond and the Reader.

The biggest criticism I have of HoTD is how rushed it was and how it didn't explore the characters or motivations, stripping more than a few characters of their complexity. So seeing you write the characters to be so complex and making them similataneously good and bad (except Otto, Viserys and Daemon, fuck those guys for real) is seriously refreshing and amazing.

I also love that you are really representing the poc community with this story! It's been one of the few I could just immerse myself in. Not just physically but the relationship between the reader and the mother? INSPIRED. I feel like the reader sought to find some semblance of what she lacked in her mother in Alicent but was reminded that Alicent would ride for her son in the ways Reader might have to ride for her children not just defense of them but trying to defebd them against what the Targaryen ExceptionalismTM tells them about them being above everything. The same exceptionialism that is destroying the realm, their house and themselves as individuals as the go through life believing they are owed and as such don't think about everything that gets trampled along the way.

Happy new year to you as well 🎆🎇

Thank you so much. I have a lot of fun exploring the characters in different way. I think the setting and ground work makes it super easy to take the story in all kinds of directions.

Reader, Alicent, and reader’s mom are super interesting to compare and contrast with each other. I think reader is envious sometimes of the way Alicent, despite all they may do, goes to bat for her kids. Reader has not acted out the way Aegon and Aemond have, did everything she was supposed to and her mother still doesn’t give her that affection. I also think it’s why reader is so fiercely protective over her kids. Paranoia of the worst happening drives Alicent and reader

She wants her kids to be proud of who they are, and understand they honestly they are special. Like being a dragon rider is special. But it can be hard for her to celebrate it 1. Bc dragons scare her lmao and 2. So much of that is wrapped up in the bad things that come with Targaryens. Reader would hate for her kids to grow up with a level of entitlement she sees in a lot of her extended family. She will hear them read the stories of their ancestors and kind of cringe bc like damn… they really just took and took and took

#fool me once asks

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writerfae · 2 years

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For the ask-round:

-How is knights of Alder looking overall right now? How far are you into the story and what can we expect to come soon?

-(Dunno if you've discussed this somewhere, but I couldn't find it, so I'm asking anyway): How do the fea work biologically and how are they different from humans?

That's all. Have a nice day and enjoy your break! :)

Hi ^^ thanks for your ask!

The Knights of the Alder is on a good way! I’ve been planning the world and plot and characters for four years already, but it keeps developing because I keep finding details that make it all more whole. The world is pretty developed and the plot too became a lot more clear over time.

I’m currently writing on the first draft. Or well, I was, but I’m not very far and in the last months I didn’t really write on it. I feel like my writing blog distracts me a bit (so does work), but since I’m having a week off and taking a tumblr break I hope I can make some progress in the future!

I want to focus on the first draft, so there’s not many side projects to expect, but I might do some world building posts here and there (also I owe y’all a post about some more character’s parents ^^)

I never made an official post about fae, I was just dropping facts here and there, so let me tell me a bit about them:

First you should know that in my story fae and humans live in different realms, not with each other. And there’s two types of fae, wild and fair fae. Since my story features the fair fae, I’ll talk about them and their differences to humans.

Biologically speaking they are basically like humans, yet entirely different. The first fae were born from trees. The following generations however were born like humans are.

Magic flows through their veins, though their magic ability has developed back quite a bit compared to their ancestors (because of ✨evolution✨). That’s one thing that sets them apart from humans biologically speaking.

Other differences are that they have stronger senses, are immune to most plants that would kill a human instantly, that their eyes have the color of gem stones and their ears are pointed as well as the fact that they live longer than humans.

They are not immortal, mind you, but they live very long. A fae grows up in almost the same pace as a human until they reached adulthood and then their lifespan starts to stretch, their aging process slowing down. Fae blood differs from that of humans too.

Oh also another big thing is that when fae die, their body doesn’t decay like that of a human, but they rather turn into a tree or flower or something similar.

Humans and fae differ in other ways too. Like their culture and lifestyle, obviously. And their religion. Though humans were creations of the goddesses, they do not believe in them anymore, while the fae still worship them.

I’m pretty certain I’m forgetting something right now, but that’s all that comes to my mind atm 🙈

Thank you! I wish you a great November :)

#Fae come in all forms btw there’s not one stereotypical “fae-look” like in some media #also their aging process differs. some life longer. some age faster. some stay at a certain age longer than others #if you have questions about any of this let me know I’m still here this week 🙈#this was fun thanks for the ask :)#chatter <3 #writeblr #wip: the knights of the alder

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thedancingcockroach134 · 2 months

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Human Tito x Human Ozzie pt. 10 (1/2) (The escape from the Asylum)

(This story has 2 parts! This a unique chapter, and a little sexual...OKAY IT IS SEXUAL!)

"You fucking idiot!" Ozzie was thrown onto the floor, "O-Ow! Ozzie...hurt!" The group of 5 was there again, "You do as we say, you got that? Are you that retarded? You really asking for a dick inside you now, are you?" Ozzie was shaking, she felt so much fear. "N-No..." One of them grabbed her by her shirt, "You may have been helped by those bitches, but they still haven't figured out who did it. Now..." One of them started to touch Ozzie's bottom, "We're gonna play again... Tell anybody and you're fucked!" Ozzie couldn't take it no more, "N-No, ...bitch!" She punched one of them on the face, jumped on the other and started strangling them. "H-How do...you l-like that, b-bitch?!" Ozzie turned into a psychopathic maniac and went full on with all 5 of them. She always loved the feeling of people underestimating and never understood her autism. One of them ran off "Fuck! Get away, you maniac!" Ozzie let that person run, she was thankfully tired. She left the 4 dead bodies on the ground, "O-Ozzie tired... Bye, b-bye!" She walked away with a sinister smile, felt amazing about what she did. A few hours later, Jerry got his gang for a meeting in his room. "Alright," he said, "Tonight is our night, my family, brothers, sisters, whatever pronouns or gender you go by because I'm lazy as fuck! This is it!" Tito was still pissed off from what Jerry did, "Do I really have to act Gay with other people why doing this?" Jerry looked at him with a smile, "Yes! Most of the men orderlies are retarded or remind me of Stephen Hawkins...But, whatever! Besides, most people here are desiring for homosexuality and/or sometimes seen having sex in the restroom near the cafeteria. Didn't you used to be Gay?" Tito nodded and rolled his eyes, "But, do I really have to have sex with the orderlies as a distraction? Like, hello?! I have a trans girlfriend and this might trigger 'her'!" Cammy joined in, "Well, me and Sara had a conversation with Ozzie, and she was fine with it as a part of the plan." Tito started shaking. "Aw, come on, Tito!" Jerry tried to cheer him up, "Besides, you're not even a virgin. You've had sex multiple times! I'm not a virgin either, I mean I did have sex with a bitch that cheated on me for a person who had ancestors of picking cotton." Tito looked at him weirdly, "That sounded racist as fuck! Arthur's black!" Arthur laughed, "Jerry has a thing that's called dark humor. His dark humor works the fields!" Tito looked pissed at Arthur, "Hey, I used to work the fields! I'm Mexicano! Watch that dark humor of yours, ¡pendejo!" Jerry calmed Tito down, "Relax, amigo that eats tacos! Just do your job, and it'll all work out." Sara looked confused, "How the hell did we get from escaping to dark humor?" Gus looked at Sara, "Well, no wonder why we're the 'Crazy 8'." Ozzie started laughing. Tito smiled and blushed, "Wanna cuddle in with papí?" Knolan spitted out his drink and started laughing. Sara looked at Tito weirdly, "¿Papí? You adopted her or some shit?" Tito looked at Sara while Ozzie cuddled in, "It's a thing called pet names when it comes to couples who are dating or married." Ozzie stood up straight on Tito's lap ans they both started tongue kissing, "Ugh, ew! Get a room!" Jerry complained and covered his eyes. Tito started putting his hands inside Ozzie's shirt, touching her chest, "Oh, fuck! Just go get a damn room!" Sara and Cammy started laughing at Jerry. "You know damn well you wanna see them have sex!" Cammy said as Jerry peaked a little, "Actually, how much is a primary watch?" Sara smacked Jerry's head and laughed a lot more. Gus looked at Cammy, "What does primary mean?" Cammy tried thinking, "I think it means when you seen everything at first sight visually." Arthur started laughing really hard too, "Jerry, you Gay ass bitch!" Tito started to unbuckle his pants, "Actually, I wanna see how long his dick is!" Jerry laughed, "It's probably 2 inches!" Sara looked at Jerry, "It's actually 9 inches, 2 inches longer than yours!" Jerry smirked, "Wait, how do you know how long his dick is?" Sara gasped and turned red, "Uh..."

Jerry disrupted, "They can have sex if they want, it's my room and they can do it in front of us." Jerry chuckled until he heard a moan sound from Ozzie, "Actually, get a fucking room! Seriously!" Sara and Cammy laughed, "This is one of the most awkward and funnies moment all 8 of us had together! We're making memories to leave in the past to remember in the future. But seriously, go get a room! How did you both get horny in front of us?" Sara said and laughed. A few hours later, it was night time. One of the orderlies walked down the hallway until he noticed a room opened, "Larry, are you there? Room 3C is unlocked! That's Willis's room! I don't wanna deal with his crazy shit!" Jerry laughed in a dark room, "And I thought we had a perfect connection these past 3 months..."The orderlie got his tazer stick out and sees Larry on the ground, "No! Xe was my friend! She was also my crush! Why did you do this to them? Jerry, I know you're there!" He turned on his stick, he saw Jerry, Sara, and Arthur as the lights from outside the room showed. Jerry walked up, "One question, what pronouns or gender is this person?" The orderlie got up, "He goes by all pronouns! Xe was my crush! They were my life of happiness!" The orderlie started swinging his stick. Sara dodged it and Arthur got frustrated, "You talk too much!" Arthur grabbed the stick and zapped it in the orderlie's mouth. The orderlie screamed as he fell on the floor, he was now deceased. While running in the hallways, Tito spotted an orderlie face to face. "Hey, get back here!" The orderlie ran to Tito. Tito sighed and groaned, knowing about his part in the plan. He grabbed the orderlie and pinned him onto the wall, "Say, you're cute~ Are you a virgin?~" The orderlie shaked his head and blushed, "N-No! I've never experienced sex or had someone to love me..." Tito sighed with frustration and touched the orderlie's cheek, "Well, have you ever kissed someone, or tongue kissed?" The orderlie gasped and turned red, "No! I never did anything-" Tito started kissing the orderlie until it led to a tongue kissing moment. The orderlie stopped and slowly went on his knees, "Y'know I always wanted to try this technique..." The orderlie started unbuckling Tito's pants. Tito secretly got his pocket knife out. As soon as he was about to slice the orderlie's head off, he got hard. "Oh, fuck!" He quickly sliced the orderlies head off and ran. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Tito ran into the mens restroom and put his pants down, "Masturbate it and just continue... M-Maybe later on! Ugh! Fuck it, just stop being a slut for once and not worry about getting hard! Just deal with it later, you whore!" He buckled his pants and ran out. "Wait, the shirt!" He grabbed the shirt from the dead body and decided to use it as a disguise. He grabbed to walkie talkie and turned it on "Y'all smell like dog shit!"

He laughed and threw it on the ground. Another hallway from downstairs, Gus, Ozzie, and Cammy were running. The alarms went off, Gus and Cammy knew what would happen if loud noises were heard. "Oh, shit! Ozzie, sweetie, cover your ears!" Ozzie started shaking and crying, "Noise! N-Noise! I-I scared! S-Stop!" Gus tried to calm down Ozzie, "Ozzie, listen to me. I know the loud noises make you scared and get levels of anxiety because of your disability, it makes you have sensitive ears. But, don't let it stop you! Think of it as a...Dragon! You're gonna use a sword and not be afraid! Well, you're a princess that's using the sword! You're gonna show who's stronger and braver! It's like from almost every fairy tale, they live happily ever after. Did Knolan read you that story?" Ozzie nodded while she covered her ears. "Ugh! N-Noise!" Tears went down her face. Cammy hugged Ozzie, "We know how you're feeling. You're afraid about the noises due to your sensitive ears. Are you also scared about coming back to the real world?" Ozzie nodded, "I know, me too, Ozzie. But, you'll never have to hear noise again. So, would you be a brave and amazing girl for me?" Ozzie nodded as she complained about the noises. "Shh, it's okay. We're here. Don't worry." 20 minutes later, everyone was in the van. Tito felt awkward over what had happened to him in the hallway and was still kinda hard. "Do y'all mind if I masturbate in the van?" Jerry laughed, "Sure! My home is your home! Do whatever you want until the cops stop following us and we try to find a place to stay in. But, sure, I don't mind." Sara laughed, "Jerry, you horny ass! Don't think I forgot about you, Tito!" Tito rolled his eyes, "What? I got hard while I was doing my part of the plan! Gus laughed, "Okay, let me get this straight, even though you're not straight. You and Ozzie tried to have sex and make out in front of us earlier, now you wanna masturbate in front of us? What's next? 'Fingering Sara's vagina!'?" Sara laughed harder, "Just drive!" We're ready!" Jerry sighed and smiled, "Let's go! Knolan drive!" Dr. Fine screamed, "W-Why am I here?" Jerry laughed, "Oh, yeah! I forgot! I brought Dr. Fine here so I can molest her! I'm just kidding, dumb asses! I brought her here just to make her scared!"

Pt. 10 (2/2) coming soon 😇🌈🌈🌈🌈💅💅💅😍😍😍😍🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺

Sneak peak of (2/2): Going through all that driving to get to the building they call "home", Tito and Ozzie decide whether or not they should start a family and have kids of their own.

#im dumb #willy's wonderland #lgbtq #willy's wonderland comic #tito turtle #ozzie ostrich #heheheheeheh #transgender

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