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shinjisdone · 4 months

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tag list:

@luopenis , @jinsecho , @mitsureigen , @theknightssecrets

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

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

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

The weather has worsened as Askeladd predicted.

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

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

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

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

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

Thorfinn hung his head.

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

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

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

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

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

Still, he almsot tumbled down again.

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

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

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

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

"You're a complete idiot!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had seen this face time and time again.

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

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

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

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

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

It was all this ugly face that he sees.

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

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

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

It hurt even more that you'd even agree.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Floating Moon...You Still Croon?

He still leaned against you, that fool.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only to you though, it seemed.

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

The blonde just leaned into your touch, tired.

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

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

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

The port was even busier, making your heart race.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Raising a brow, it only made Leif grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thorfinn sighed in disappointment and laid back down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Home...?"

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

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

Could he even?

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

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

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

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

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

"Home...and Vinland..."

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

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

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

Voice shaking with disbelief he called out your name.

"You gave me an heart attack."

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

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

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

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

I'm Missing You...

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

No longer was it biting or howling but simply soothing.

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

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

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

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

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

As he did on that snowy hill to fight Thorkell.

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

It was all for nothing.

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

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

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

"Thorfinn! Thorfinn, come back! Please!"

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

"Thorfinn!"

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

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

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

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

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

"Thorfinn!"

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

You shall be taken away. Hysterical but maybe useful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thorfinn did not even answer your cires.

No one would now to a slave.

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pratchettquotes · 5 months

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She caught sight of the mirror over the mantelpiece and looked down at the crown. It was tempting. It was practically begging her to try it for size. Well, and why not? She made sure that the others weren't around and then, in one movement, whipped off her hat and placed the crown on her head.

It seemed to fit. Granny drew herself up proudly, and waved a hand imperiously in the general direction of the hearth.

"Jolly well do this," she said. She beckoned angrily at the grandfather clock. "Chop his head off, what ho," she commanded. She smiled grimly.

And froze as she heard the screams, the thunder of horses, and the deadly whisper of arrows and the damp, solid sounds of spears in flesh. [...] Years streamed across her mind in the space of a second. There were times when she lay among the dead, or hanging from the branch of a tree; but always there were hands that would pick her up again, and place her on a velvet cushion...

Granny very carefully lifted the crown off her head--it was an effort, it didn't like it much--and laid it on the table.

"So that's being king for you, is it?" she said softly. " I wonder why they all want the job?"

Terry Pratchett, Wyrd Sisters

#granny weatherwax #esme weatherwax #wyrd sisters #discworld #terry pratchett #witches #magic #crown #authority #power #temptation #king #war #violence #playing pretend #i wonder why #jolly well do this #long quote

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zoandreez · 9 months

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she ⋆·˚ ༘ * tyler, the creator (feat. frank ocean)

pairing: neteyam x omaticayan(halfbreed!)reader

summary: you were an expirement to the sky people. your mother was an avatar who bred a warrior, and you were used to test the closest thing to a "na'vi." you ran away, and have been hiding undetected for the past 3 years, or so you thought.

word count: 1.0k

warning/genre: stalking, wounds/blood

a/n: loiter squad

you were anxiously preparing for your long-awaited hunting trip, a much-anticipated return to the wilderness after a considerable absence. you had a lack of food from your hesitation to return to the forest once more, preparing rations smaller and smaller by the second. you decided it was best to just get it over with.

as you wandered the forest, you suddenly caught wind of a familiar war cry echoing in the distance, signaling the triumphant return of the men from battle. this prompted a mixture of emotions within you, as the sound also served as a harbinger of the omaticayan people's presence in the surrounding forest.

you knew encountering the omaticayan in their natural habitat could be incredibly dangerous. their deep connection to the forest and their renowned hunting skills made them both formidable and unpredictable. along with their strong hatred for the "demon people," it seemed like you were their number one problem.

however, despite your fears, the need to venture outside became unavoidable. with a deep breath and a reluctant spirit, you walked out of the hut and begun to embark on your journey into the wilderness.

as you explored through the dense forest, hour after hour, your hunting expedition seemed to yield disappointingly light results. it appeared that the diligent gatherers had beaten you to the prime food sources, leaving you with scarce resources. however, you adapted to the situation, utilizing your knowledge of the wilderness to gather precious liquids from various plants and uncovering a trove of tiny, seemingly insignificant berries that the omaticayan must have overlooked.

as you made your way back towards your hut, a sense of unease washed over you when the unmistakable sound of wet grass squelching and branches snapping reached your ears. instinctively, you glanced around, seeking the source of the noise, but found nothing visible.

you reasoned that it was likely just the nocturnal activities of the viperwolves, comforting yourself with the thought that they posed no immediate threat. with a renewed sense of determination, you continued your journey, eager to reach the safety of your base.

what you didn't see, was neteyam, a skilled and stealthy omaticayan hunter. he had been stealthily tracking your every move. unaware of your identity, he followed above, moving with the grace of a predator along a branch that arched over you. his bow was taut, arrow poised to strike. according to his teachings, encountering a na'vi with five fingers like yourself meant one thing: immediate elimination.

"there should be no other half-breed na'vi here aside from myself, lo'ak, and kiri. quartitch should be gone, kill any remaining on sight," he remembered his father say.

just as neteyam prepared to release his deadly arrow, his attention was captivated by a mesmerizing sight. a radiant creature, known as an atokirina, gracefully fluttered through the air, its ethereal presence commanding his gaze. landing delicately on the tip of his bow, it seemed to communicate a message of peace and tranquility. caught between duty and the enchantment of the atokirina, neteyam reluctantly withdrew his arrow, opting to spare your life. with a heavy sigh, he begrudgingly retreated, allowing you to continue your journey unscathed.

this doesn't mean that he would stop hunting you.

days passed, and the fateful encounter with neteyam continued to linger in the back of your mind. you had no clue what it was, but something about the footsteps weren't very soothing. driven by a mix of curiosity and determination, neteyam actively sought out opportunities to observe your movements. concealed behind thickets of bushes, he patiently watched as you cautiously emerged from your humble hut, your senses on high alert.

with each passing day, neteyam's fascination grew as he noticed the subtle changes in your behavior. your once carefree strides now carried a hint of wariness, a testament to the lingering presence that you could no longer dismiss as mere viperwolf activity. as he observed you, a wry smile formed on neteyam's face, a silent acknowledgment of the effect he had on your psyche.

he enjoyed looking at you. your eyes going from half-lidded and calm to wide and afraid, full of wonder of the now "quieter than usual" forest, as you would call it. you were beautiful in his eyes, clutching your dagger harder than before, jumping whenever an animal crossed your path or you heard and ikran screech.

neteyam's silent surveillance had become a game of cat and mouse, a dance of anticipation and heightened senses. every few steps, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, causing you to instinctively turn around, searching for the elusive presence that seemed to haunt your every move. the forest, once a place of solace and tranquility, now held an air of mystery and uncertainty. neteyam, sliding behind a tree, would sigh with relief and continue to walk right under your footsteps ever so casually.

neteyam took great pleasure in witnessing the impact he had on you. the hunter in him reveled in the psychological game, knowing that his mere presence had succeeded in instilling a newfound sense of caution within you. each time you glanced over your shoulder, he relished in the knowledge that his presence had become an undeniable force in your daily routine, forever altering your perception of the forest.

something about your attitude made it hard for you to be just a "kill on sight target." you were something more to him, and although the two of you had never spoken, he wanted you to be his. he needed you to be his.

and that was his new objective.

a/n: idk if this will be a series mostly bc there are no songs incredibly similar to the vibe of she.. unless yall wanna hear about necrophiliac possessive murderer neteyam (sarah - tyler, the creator)

#neteyam x omaticaya!reader #avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam x demonblood!reader #stalker!neteyam x reader

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fairytale-poll · 6 months

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ROUND 1B, MATCH 16 OUT OF 16!

*Though I am referring to her as Popelka, her original name in Czech, she is also often referred to as Aschenbrödel, her German name. Additionally, Three Wishes for Cinderella is the English title (with an alternate localized title being Three Gifts for Cinderella). The original Czech title, Tři oříšky pro Popelku, and the German title Drei Haselnüsse für Aschenbrödel both are translated as Three Hazelnuts for Cinderella. All names and titles have been tagged. Any local Czech or German speakers feel free to correct me for any mistakes! :)

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Danielle:

This is, imo, the single best retelling of Cinderella out there. She has a great character, her relationship with the prince grows organically rather than happening in a single night, and the scene with the bandits is top tier

The story is told as a historical romance instead of anything supernatural happening. Drew Barrymore is a cute Cinderella, Anjelica Houston is an incredible stepmother, and she's also really nasty to one of the stepsisters too, who ends up taking Danielle (Cinderella)'s side. Also Leonardo da Vinci is hanging around painting a portrait of Danielle at one point.

The Drew Barrymore Cinderella is fantastic. It’s got real history mixed with beautiful whimsy! I absolutely love the butterfly wings and how she spoke up for her step mother and sister at the end (and that they were still punished). I feel like I need to go watch it now.

she’s funny and smart and she’s resourceful (also her outfits are historically accurate!)

Popelka:

She has so much personality. She's funny, smart, kind, has a lot of spunk, and she really does things instead of just waiting for miracles to occur. Also, she's a great rider and has a deadly aim with bow and arrow.

She finds three hazelnuts that grant her wishes by giving the clothes to do what she wants. Beautiful dresses. The prince puts a ring on her finger while she’s in her huntsman’s outfit.

I don't know how it's faring in modern day Czechia, but here in Germany, Drei Haselnüsse für Aschenbrödel is still THE (non-Disney) Cinderella adaptation and a yearly rewatch for many, despite literally turning fifty this year. It's just so fairytale and also just... good? And she hangs out in the woods and shoots with a crossbow and saves deer and gives the prince riddles and then the music aaa the music!! I guess this isn't just a submission of this version of the character but this version of the story. For those who don't know: This adaptation is based on a Czech author's retelling of the Grimm version of the story, the film was a co-production of Czechoslovakia and East Germany and it slaps so hard it gets played at least 10 times (usually more) on public german television in and around December every single year. This is not an exaggeration, you can look it up, they even make a special, official info graphic with all the air dates every year that people can (and do!) share on social media. In Germany, the main event of Christmas is the 24th, Christmas eve, and on that day they play it at least 4 times (often more) at different times of the day on different public channels (ALL of which any German with a hooked up tv has access to) so anyone who wants to watch it gets a chance to. And Aschenbrödel herself in the movie STILL holds up as a (within reasonable expectations) feminist character, she's skilled, she's smart, she's witty, she and the prince actually talk and they like each other for their personalities, like... yes, there's a couple of flaws with the movie that time has pointed out, but mostly small, background things or things you simply cannot expect a movie from 1973 to get right. It's SO well made and just plain charming, it has truly stood the test of time and I would be devastated if it weren't included. It's also my mum's favourite movie (she's from East Germany and was born in 1969 so she's had regular access to it basically all her conscious life) so we would actually usually watch it multiple times each year and even record it (first on VHS, later again on DVD) so we could rewatch it any time and yet, I literally never got tired of it. It's just good & magical & I love it. Even my brother, who usually didn't care for fairytale movies at all and would much rather play video games in his room, would come down and sit with us to watch this one, THAT'S how good and magical this movie is.

And if all that hasn't convinced you yet but you speak German, here it is on YouTube, go watch it:

[Link]

(I won't provide a Czech link since I can't vouch for any of them as I don't speak czech)

Anyway, dear tournament runner: Have a pic of Aschenbrödel, in my favourite of her magically provided outfits, for the poll:

[Link]

She is the Cinderella of like eastern central Europe and the Story is a little different (she's no. 1 girlboss, beats the prince in a shooting contest and instead of a fairy she has 3 magic hazelnuts/ a magic owl)

#cinderpoll #round 1 #round 1b #danielle de barbarac #ever after #cinderella #popelka #aschenbrödel #three wishes for cinderella #three gifts for cinderella #three little nuts for cinderella #tři oříšky pro popelku #drei haselnüsse für aschenbrödel #fairytale #poll tournament #poll bracket #character polls #polls

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is-this-fandom-who-knows · 1 year

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Okay so I got several notes on my "Things Jason Todd should freak out over that happened while he was dead/in a coma/braindead/gone" post about using it in a timeline EXCEPT I listed those events off the top of my head and didn't actually look up when they happened relative to each other so I know that they weren't in chronological order so I am relisting each of those plus a few new ones in chronological order with issue dates here if anyone actually does want a timeline. If the comment references events that take place some time apart then I listed by whichever happened first. Check the issues listed to figure out when the second event happened. I may edit this post later.

"There's another Mister Miracle? And he's human?" (Mister Miracle Vol.2 #22, December 1990)

"Deathstroke killed Jericho? Damn and I thought Bruce was a shitty dad -" (New Titans #83, February 1992)

"Danny is dead?" (New Titans #84, March 1992)

"Donna had a kid? One that was supposed to grow up to be so evil that an entire group of Titans from the future came back in time to stop him from being born? Kid definitely got it from his dad." (Deathstroke the Terminator #14, September 1992) (Team Titans #1, September 1992)

"Apparently Miriam Delgado is a name I need to add to my list :)" (New Titans #90, September 1992)

"Since when did Deathstroke have a daughter and why is she missing an eye too?" (Deathstroke the Terminator #15, October 1992) (Teen Titans Vol.3 #12, August 2004)

"SUPERMAN DIED HOW THE FUCK DID THIS DOOMSDAY GUY JUST PUNCH SUPERMAN TO DEATH HE'S SUPERMAN." (Superman Vol.2 #75, November 1992)

"Okay what happened to Qurac? Entire countries do not just disappear." (Deathstroke the Terminator #19, February 1993)

"What the fuck do you mean Roy Harper's baby momma nuked it???!! Where did she even get nukes??!!" (Deathstroke the Terminator #19, February 1993)

"Also apparently Superman has a clone now???" (Adventures of Superman #500, June 1993)

"Who the fuck is this Bane guy and how did he break B's back." (Batman Vol.1 #497, July 1993)

"COAST CITY DOESN'T EXIST ANYMORE - WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT DOESN'T EXIST ANYMORE?" (Green Lantern Vol.3 #46, October 1993)

"Hal Jordan became evil?" (Green Lantern Vol.3 #49, February 1994)

"Are the Green Lantern Corps around rn?" (Green Lantern Vol.3 #50, March 1994)

"What the fuck is the speed force." (The Flash Vol.2 #91, June 1994)

"Iris Allen is alive and time travelled here from the future with her grandson apparently??" (The Flash Vol.2 #92, July 1994)

"Dick and Kory broke up???" (New Titans #114, September 1994)

"Is- is Guy Gardner human, or -" (Guy Gardner: Warrior #0, October 1994)

"There's a Green Arrow 2.0 and he's the first one's kid? Poor guy." (Green Arrow Vol.2 #91, November 1994) (Green Arrow Vol.2 #96, April 1995)

"So Green Arrow also died and came back?" (Green Arrow Vol.2 #101, October 1995) (Green Arrow Vol.3 #1 April 2001)

"Wait who the fuck is Neron." (Underworld Unleashed #1, November 1995)

"Blockbuster is smart now?" (Underworld Unleashed #1, November 1995) (Impulse #8, November 1995)

"You're telling me that B had the opportunity to bring me back to life - back to him and he didn't fucking take it?! Yes I know that I was already alive and it was like literally a deal with the devil it's the principle of the matter!" (Underworld Unleashed #2, December 1995)

"Apparently while I was gone Gotham was targeted by a deadly plague, got hit by a giant earthquake, and basically got kicked out of the US?" (Batman: Shadow of the Bat #48, March 1996) (Batman: Shadow of the Bat #73, April 1998) (Detective Comics #729, February 1999)

"Dick moved to Bludhaven and became a fucking cop?" (Nightwing Vol.2 #1 October 1996)(Nightwing Vol.2 #41 March 2000)

"What the fuck do you mean the sun almost got eaten." (The Final Night, November 1996)

"Look is Hal Jordan alive or not." (The Final Night#4, November 1996) (Day of Judgement #5, November 1999) (Green Lantern: Rebirth #4, March 2005)

"So... How old is Aqualad now? Why was he hanging out with Aquaman's dad? Why did that make him older?" (Tempest, November 1996 - February 1997)

"Oh, Aqualad's going by Tempest now? Good to know." (Tempest #2, December 1996)

"Supes got married? Congrats to him but I've met Lois Lane and I know she could do better." (Superman: The Wedding Album, December 1996)

"Martians almost took over the world?" (JLA Vol.1 #1, January 1997)

"Wait Donna's husband and baby died? Damn." (Wonder Woman Vol.2 #121, May 1997)

"The entire population had to run so that the Flash could siphon the energy to run a fucked up Hunger Games/Olympics crossover race set by a pair intergalctic alien gods so they wouldn't Alderaan earth?" (The Flash Vol.2 #138, June 1998)

"Someone actually decided to date the Joker? Is she insane? Don't answer that." (Batman: Harley Quinn, October 1999)

"Aqualad - sorry, Tempest- had a kid too?!" (Aquaman Vol.5 #63, January 2000)

"Flash got married too? IDK who Linda is but congrats to them both too I guess." (The Flash Vol.2 #159, April 2000)

"YOU'RE TELLING ME THAT BASICALLY EVERY HERO GOT THEIR AGE TEMPORARILY FUCKED UP? I NEED PICS ASAP." (Young Justice: Sins of Youth, May 2000)

"The JLA kicked B out and almost fell apart because they found out he had made contingency plans to take em all out? You're telling me they were actually surprised? Old man's paranoid as fuck of course he has contingency plans." (JLA Vol.1 #46, October 2000)

"What's all this about playing baseball to save the earth?" (Young Justice Vol.1 #27, January 2001)

"B and Supes told the rest the JLA their secret identities? I didn't think they had it in them." (JLA Vol.1 #50, February 2001)

"Commish got shot? By who? Are they still alive? I can fix it if they are he's the only cop worth a damn in this city." (Batman Vol.1 #587, March 2001)

"Y'all went to war with a guy trying to literally hollow out the universe? damn." (JLA: Our Worlds at War, September 2001)

"So Dickie finally got adopted." (Batman: Gotham Knights #21, November 2001)

"B got arrested and put on trial for murder? Imao." (Batman: the 10-cent Adventure, March 2002)

"WAIT HE WAS FRAMED BY BATGIRL 3.0'S DAD?" (Batman Vol.1 #605, September 2002)

"I'm sorry, Pretender's team led a bunch of other heroes, most of whom I've never even heard of, to invade the sovereign nation of Zandia? Like, I know it's just a nation for criminals to hang out and avoid justice, but still." (Young Justice Vol.1 #50, December 2002)

"One of the Pretender's friends was a ghost that was actually an interdimensional portal to Apokolips?" (Young Justice Vol.1 #55, May 2003)

"DONNA DIED AND CAME BACK TOO?" (Titans/Young Justice: Graduation Day #3, August 2003) (DC Special: The Return of Donna Troy, August 2005)

"Somehow the entire population got mind wiped and no longer remembers that Wally West is the Flash or that his identity used to be public. hm." (The Flash Vol.2 #200, September 2003)

"Jericho is alive???" (Teen Titans Vol.3 #2, October 2003)

"Is Jericho evil or not?" (Teen Titans Vol.3 #2, October 2003) (Teen Titans Vol.3 #12, August 2004)

"Raven is also alive and a teenager now???" (Teen Titans Vol.3 #3, November 2003)

"Blockbuster murdere- Catalina Flores? Ah, another name to add to my list, I see." (Nightwing Vol 2 #93, July 2004)

"The Atom's ex killed the Elongated Man's wife and hired Captain Boomerang to end the Pretender's dad? Damn." (Identity Crisis #1, August 2004) (Identity Crisis #5, December 2004)

"Why did Gotham become a war zone- oh it was one of B's contingencies? That tracks. Wait another Robin died? I don't care if she wasn't actually using the name Robin when she died what the fuck B?" (Detective Comics Vol.1 #797, October 2004) (Batman Vol.1 #633, December 2004)

"You were actually on to something working with this Orpheus guy but of course he got murdered too-" (Batman: Gotham Knights #57, November 2004)

"How many Green Lanterns are there anyways?" (Green Lantern: Rebirth, December 2004-May 2005)

"So Guy Gardener is human now, right?" (Green Lantern: Rebirth #2, January 2005)

"EDDIE IS A SUPERHERO NOW?" (Teen Titans Vol.3 #42, February 2007) [yeah I messed up on this one, Eddie didn't get his powers until post-Infinite Crisis]

Here's the link to the original post btw:

#dc #comics #jason todd #my post #my posts

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brrrkdslek · 5 months

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QUADRILATERAL LOVE!

✦ 056 ⎯ WHO'S UR DEALER❓🤑🥵

you gulped nervously as the movie started, wooyoung's hand deadly close to touching yours. you weren't even listening to what the actors were saying anymore as wooyoung's pinky brushed against yours.

wooyoung took in a deep breath before clasping your hand in his, heart beating so fast he's sure the entire audience could hear it.

time passed by quickly as the movie ended. you blinked, "it felt like a few minutes only." wooyoung giggled, "right?" you two exited the cinema as if you didn't just hold each other's hands and stopped by the entrance.

"i had a good time today," you brushed your hair behind your ear, "thank you."

wooyoung froze when you pulled down your mask before leaning down and left a lingering kiss on his cheek. he stares for a few seconds before placing his hand on top of the spot you kissed, his eyes widen after a few more seconds and he bolted away.

you blinked and only stood in confusion for a few seconds before smiling gently, "cute."

checking the time, you decide to drop by the studio to do some more work on the new tracks you had started for the comeback in a few months time.

mindlessly scrolling through instagram, you rode the elevator to the 5th floor and exited. you rubbed your eyes tiredly as your shoulder bumped into someone else's, knocking your phone out of your hand and onto the ground.

you groan in annoyance, "hey-"

you stopped the string of curses that were about to leave your mouth when you saw a fluffy looking mingi standing in front of you. you snorted, "why does he actually look like a princess..."

mingi pouted as his cheeks dusted in pink, "hey! i heard that." you mess up his hair as he groaned, "sure you did." you were about to walk away before mingi held onto your hand, his large ones warming yours up. "uh- do you wanna, uhm, listen to my songs...?"

you perk up, "o-only if you're free! i wouldn't wanna force you..." smiling, you wrap your arms around his, "sure, lead the way!" mingi could physically feel an arrow pierce through his heart as he inhaled sharply before beginning to walk to the recording studio.

as the two arrives at the studio, you set your things down and sit next to mingi, who was busy plugging his guitar in. looking around, you take in the interior.

"have you been in here before?"

you shake your head, eyes trailing back to mingi's, "it's my first time." mingi felt his heart skip a beat, "ah, i see."

mingi strums the guitar for a test before looking at you and you nod, signifying you were ready. mingi smiled and closed his eyes as he started strumming the guitar, the soft beats making you sleepy as you closed your eyes and leaned onto his shoulder.

mingi breathed in before singing softly, "did i drive you away?" you smiled upon hearing the familiar lyrics of your favourite song, sparks.

"i know what you'll say," you were always glad you never blushed on your face, but on your neck. cause you know you'd be a whole tomato if blush was visible on your cheeks.

"you say-"

"oh," mingi looks at you as you rise, "sing one we know." you smiled softly at the boy as he returned.

"but i promise you this," mingi felt his cheeks heat up with how intense your stare was, "i'll always look out for you." he grinned shyly, "yeah, that's what i'll do."

you swayed with the tune, "i say, ohh." you continued the lyrics as he strummed, "i say, ohh." mingi closed his eyes, your voice like music to his ears.

"my heart is yours," you felt your heartbeat quicken as he looks at you lovingly as he sings the lyrics, "it's you that i hold on to." you felt your eyes burn at the full feeling blooming in your chest.

mingi bit his lip as you moved closer, thighs brushing against his. "yeah, that's what i'll do." mingi's voice was getting quieter with each pause, just so lost in your eyes, your beautiful eyes that shined like gems.

"and i know, i was wrong." your smile falters slightly, the lyrics stinging you, hitting a bit too close to home. you looked down for second, registering all the events that had happened in a span of a week.

"but i won't let you down," your eyes widen as you turn back to a smiling mingi. gosh, he always looked so beautiful with that pretty smile. it always lit something in you whenever he smiled, and specifically at you.

he hummed the adlibs as you swayed with the beat, mingi's eyes sparking as he watched your every move.

it took everything in the male to not pounce you immediately. with half-lidded eyes, mingi strummed the guitar as he started to feel a bit hot.

"yeah, i saw sparks." mingi's eyes never drifted from yours as you only stared back, hearts beating together.

"yeah, i saw sparks..." you whispered softly, faces slowly inching together, unbeknownst to the teo.

"and i saw sparks," the two sang in unison.

"yeah, i saw sparks." it wasn't surprising how well you two harmonised, with you taking the soprano as mingi went deep as usual.

mingi's eyes sparkled under the dim lighting of the studio, his eyes turning into pretty crescents, bringing out a smile from you too. you scratched your neck and felt a thin layer of sweat, wow, it's a bit hot in here huh?

"yeah, i saw sparks" he sang slowly, just above a whisper. as if he was embarrassed. what's there to be embarrassed about? oh nothing, just that you both know you like each other.

"sing it out" you ended. you quietly hummed the tune, you closed your eyes as it became quieter until it stopped. you kept your eyes closed for a few more seconds, smile still prominent on your features as your eyes fluttered open slowly.

mingi was mesmerised, he swallowed a large lump in his throat. mingi hoped the dim lighting did him justice as he felt his cheeks heat up and probably painted in light pink.

"is something on my face?"

you asked worriedly, patting your cheeks. mingi only chuckled, "what, is there really something on my face?" you felt a blush creep up your neck, did you really just sit in front of this fanatic man for almost an hour with some sort of shit on your face?

"n-no! there's nothing, it's just..."

he cuts himself off as you raise your brow, "it's just?"

mingi blushes and dips his head down, coughing into his fist awkwardly. you hear him mumble something but couldn't quite catch it and grew paranoid.

you folded your arms together, "what is it?"

"you looked really pretty..."

you lose your cool for a second, letting his words fully sink into your mind before your ears are blazing red. "uh... i- thanks" you stumble over your words as you turn your head to look at much more interesting things like the black wall and equally black rug.

mingi pulls the guitar over his head before setting it aside. he slowly rolls his chair closer to you and you see his eyes dart from yours to your lips.

you don't move away when he's inches away from your noses touching, the heat radiating off the man making you shiver.

you smirked when you saw mingi's tongue dart out to wet his bottom lip, oh? is something about to happen?

mingi slowly leans in until your noses boop, making both of you slightly chuckle. you move your hands to cup his cheeks and give them a good smush while he shows off that beautiful toothy-grin again, making your heart flutter.

you could feel your pulse in your hands, and maybe he could too. but it didn't matter as everything melted into the background except for him.

you saw mingi slowly close his eyes so you did the same. you felt a ghost of his lips brush against yours before the front door bursts open, to which you replied by leaning backwards, tumbling in the process.

"woah!" hongjoong grimaces, 'what were you two doing!?" he asks, almost afraid.

you held the back of your hand towards your lips, cheeks as red as mingi's as the both of you don't speak.

hongjoong sighed as he neared mingi and softly smacked his cheek, "dude wake up. we gotta work on the new track,"

he glanced downwards at you and offered a hand, which you took and pulled yourself up with his help. "do you wanna stay and have a listen?"

your eyes darted to mingi's as he tried his best to avoid any eye contact with you. you chuckled seeing the blazing red color at the tips of his ears, "nah, i'm good. i got somewhere to be."

you didn't.

you bid the two goodbye as you slipped out of the recording studio, heart still pounding at what could've been.

you look up from your phone, face scrunched at the creepy looking message from san.

you screeched and tossed your phone when a figure appered behind you and screamed. "fuck! my pho- san!"

you turn around angrily upon seeing the male towering over you, cheeky grin decorating his face. "god, jackass."

you pick up your phone as san pouts and dramatically turns away from you and you only deadpan at the man. not sparing any sympathy for someone who just made you toss your phone and possibly break it.

looking back, san still stood like a rock and it made you snort a bit. "can i help you?"

the man suddenly drags you by your arm, "let's go, i'm taking you out on a date"

you stumbled while yelling profanities at the man. but nothing could affect him as a bright smile painted his face, dimples on display as he was about to go on a 'date' with the love of his life.

"i didn't agree to this."

"i'll pay."

you go quiet for a moment, you sighed and rolled your eyes before speaking again. "not a single word about this to the others."

san grinned and jokingly saluted to you, "yes ma'am!"

<PREV𖤐NEXT>

©BRRRKDSLEK 2023

#brrrkdslek 💬: quadrilateral love #OKG THX FOR 300🕺🏻🕺🏻🕺🏻#THIS TOOK ME SO FUCKING LONG HELPPPP🦧#ENJOY GAYS<3333 #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #mingi x reader #seonghwa x reader #jongho x reader #san x reader #yeosang x reader #hongjoong x reader #yunho x reader #wooyoung x reader #ateez smau #ateez fic

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millenniumfae · 5 months

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Dragon Age Demons vs Real-Life 'Inner Demons'

Way back in the summer of 2015, my symptoms got so unbearable I was bedridden. 20 years old and experiencing psychosis, quasi-hallucinations, and actual, unending panic for the first time. It marked the start of a condition that has never stopped since.

My aunt (and other relatives) helped me develop proper mindfulness skills based off of our homeland's folk Buddhism - the 'second arrow'. The meaningless of forgiveness. Devaluing control. And something that struck me as a new Dragon Age fan … 'Possession'.

Well, when translated to english, you'll find texts using the word 'insight' rather than 'possession'. But that's the word my mom translated from off the top of her head, and it immediately resonated with me.

"Imagine your panic as an inner creature. Something that is also you, but is acting independently. Treat your panic with kindness and mentorship, not antagonism. The more you struggle in the spider's web, the worse things get. But if you nourish what's hurting in you, let them tantrum, then come back in to nurture."

Up until the 2010s, the most acclaimed mental health books you could buy written in the english language would most certainly be christianity-influenced. Maybe not overtly, (but you'd be surprised how many have a chapter about "insert-book-topic-here and Christ") but there's little hints like how the reader must have left home at 18 to avoid mooching off their parents, or how to 'turn guilt into something productive' (???), the use of the word 'gamble' as a bad word, etc. But these books tend to include a chapter that would be some weird bullshit like "The Dark Souls Of Respawning?? What Daoism Says About Immortality" and take a brief moment to talk about the radical, never-before-heard-of methods from across the pacific that Will Turn Your World Upside Down.

Behavior therapists (of the 1950s) were aware insights about the origins of the problem usually weren't helpful. Exposure to the thing the patient feared was often curative. -When Panic Attacks by David D. Burns MD, Chapter 18, "Taking a page from the Tibetan Book of the Dead"

Now, it's no secret that the Dragon Age serial is very. Um. Christian. Catholic, specifically. Faith is written to be an unequivocally redeeming trait. Attempts at inventing fake elf/qunari/Tevinter 'religions' still have them be belief-based, colonialist, and conversion-heavy, while also at the same time implying that the 'Maker' of Chantry faith is the single actual true god.

So it's no surprise that the demons and spirits of DA are very seven-deadly-sins. Party banter and side-quests do point out the euro/christian-centricity of this demon categorization (Merrill, Solas), but that doesn't mean shit if, in overall story and gameplay proper, Pride is the most powerful demon while Faith is virtue at all.

So here I am, lying in bed and only capable of just riding the waves of panic day after torturous day. You bet I'm gonna try to geek-erize my symptoms. If people do it with Jesus, then I can do it with Dragon Age.

Enter Vigilance the Spirit. I was an at-risk young Rivani mage, so their Magic Welfare Government helped me join their クサビ-依り代 program and matched me with a spirit to induce possession. Can't boil two skulls in one pot, so to speak. I could have chosen to do their hemispherectomy program (I am made Tranquil but carry around a piece of the Fade like a pacemaker that keeps me perfectly lucid, only turning off when I sleep), but that comes with its own risks.

But it doesn't take much for a spirit of Vigilance to do a 180 and become Panic. They're still Vigilance, and I am still me, but the taste in the mouth is different. Our life will need to adapt.

I will not kick myself for 'failing' my friend. Vigilance has turned to Panic, yes. But they have always been one. Now, so are me and Panic. Such is the nature of spirits.

If I am kind to my spirit, then I am kind to myself. It's what we both deserve.

#dragon age #DAI #DA2 #da:o #da: origins #da:d #dragon age dreadwolf #dragon age discussion #dragon age meta

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bubble-popping · 3 months

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so that drunz au completely consumed my life since I read it so obviously I had to write more for it

tw for blood, sharp objects, murder, gore yk all the typical Drunz Things™

So, they'd been a little reckless. The favor of a God tended to do that to people. Punz was no different.

News of their merciless killing spree spread quicker than expected. The bounty on his head doubled practically overnight. But they weren't too worried. For half his life he'd lived on the run, evading the law and consequences as well as they could dodge arrows. A few extra hunters didn't bother them.

Not to mention they provided a steady stream of sacrifices for his God.

They got cocky. Played a little too fast and loose around sharp swords and crossbow shots. He used to pride himself on leaving every battlefield the same way they'd entered: completely unscathed. However, with the power of a God behind him, he simply didn't see the point in that effort anymore. Some cuts and scrapes were negligible. If anything, the little scars they became were evidence he'd survived each encounter.

In hindsight, it was only a matter of time before this mindset got them into big trouble. That trouble came in the form of a particularly skilled group of bounty hunters.

Punz hadn't noticed the one lurking in the tree branches, too occupied by the twin swordsmen gunning for his natural weak points and the potion-wielder turning the very ground he tread deadly. An arrow lodged into their shoulder from behind, causing them to stumble directly onto a freshly sharpened blade, clean through their stomach. The second soon followed, penetrating him in the side.

The swords remained long enough for Punz to cough up blood. When they finally retreated, he promptly collapsed to his knees, dropping their own weapon and clutching their abdomen. One of them roughly grabbed a fistful of sandy blond hair, forcing Punz to look up at them, and he seethed.

No one made them bow except their God.

They knew He'd share the same sentiment.

"For how high that bounty is, we really expected more of a fight, Punz." One of the twins smirked down at him, leaning casually against the other.

"Following that god has made ya soft," the one gripping his hair remarked.

He didn't dignify their jeering with a response, instead beginning to mutter the incantation his God taught them a few days into their arrangement. A glorified distress signal, complete with the piercing of his nails through their marked palm.

Just as the last words left his bloody lips, a hand wrapped around his throat and squeezed, cutting off their oxygen.

"None of that. Your god friend can't save you now."

"With one job, we'll eliminate our biggest rival and-" Before the twin could finish, several green threads sliced through every inch of his body. In seconds, he crumbled into a heap of a million little chunks. His brother screamed, and that too was interrupted by the same thing.

Punz had to stop himself from falling forward without the support. They strained to see what happened to the others, but the blood loss decided then to make them dizzy and blurry-eyed. That damn arrow was more than likely tipped with some poison that accelerated the process.

Still, even as his strength slowly gave out, he felt completely safe.

"Oh, fuck, that's so much blood," a pleasantly familiar voice whispered in utter horror. Then, Punz was being carefully positioned to a sit on His lap. He looked terrified. It didn't suit His pretty face. "Punz? Punz, can you hear me?"

"Where's your smile...?"

Their God blinked at them, bewildered. "Smile?? You're bleeding out, idiot! Where does it hurt?"

Punz grunted as he gestured shakily to the wounds, responding through clenched teeth, "They got me in two places, and the arrow-"

"Okay, okay, don't move too much. Save your strength. I've got you." Their God's hand slipped under their cloak to touch the worst of the cuts. They could feel the strings slithering into the wound and stitching up the injured organs. It felt very strange at first, then waves of warmth and pure bliss made all his tense muscles go slack.

They relaxed in His arms, leaning on His shoulder, a mere puddle of a human. Nothing bad could happen to them here, shielded from the world by large, scaly wings.

At this angle, he got the perfect view of his God. His bright green eyes, pupils thin-slitted and entirely absorbed in His work. The freckles that littered His skin, heaviest at His cheekbones and nose. His full lips with the tiniest peeks of fangs, now pulled into a taut line in concentration.

Despite His order, Punz reached up to cup His face and tried pushing up the side of His mouth. Their God startled, work momentarily pausing before quickly resuming as He fixed them with a stern expression.

"What did I say? And have you been staring this whole time?"

"How can I not? You're just so beautiful."

His God rolled His eyes, shaking His head, though not enough for Punz to let go. "You could at least pretend to be subtle."

"Why would I do that? I'd never hide my love for you."

"Devotion. Not love," He corrected.

Punz's brow furrowed. "What's the difference?"

"One of those is the appropriate feeling for a god from a mortal. The other just... isn't practical."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You... Humans have short lifespans. You should spend it loving someone that..."

"That, what?"

"That... that's also mortal. That can handle loving someone with such limited time."

Punz made a soft noise of understanding. He'd heard this sort of belief from Him before, ever since the first time he told his God he loved Him. They were determined to prove Him wrong. Now cupping His face with both hands, soft and tender, they poured all the sincerity they could into their voice, "I meant what I said. Truthfully, I haven't loved before, not like this, but I have heard of it. If what I feel for you isn't love, then I think I've found something totally new."

They positively beamed to see the faintest hint of a gilded blush on His cheeks.

He scoffed, swatting Punz's hands away and moving to suture the wound on his side. "You're delirious from blood loss. Please, hold still and be quiet."

Certainly, it got harder to keep his eyes open, but they both knew that's not why Punz said what he did. But Punz could wait. Even if it took the rest of their life, they'd make their God see just how loved He was.

***

Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Everything was in place. The bushes were pristinely trimmed. The miniature puppet sat pretty on the ornately sculpted wood altar. The bodies strategically placed, tied to stakes. The only task left to do was spill their blood. Fresh sacrifices for his God.

Several weeks have passed since that fateful night. Since Punz's life was turned completely upside down in the best ways.

They recalled those hours with such fondness. To change from years of rolling his eyes and scoffing at the mere mention of the divine to thinking about his God every second of every minute of every day. From killing to survive to killing to thrive. In the blink of an eye, all their beliefs had been demolished like a shoddy shack against a hurricane. Not only were Gods real, but they were truly as ethereal as they always heard. At least, his certainly was.

Dream embodied perfection in every sense of the word. (They still got giddy at the knowledge that their God had given them His true name. The ultimate symbol of trust and respect.) Beauty, grace, intellect, speed, strength, and so, so much more. It would take Punz the rest of his life to list them all and they'd already made the promise to devote that precious time to serving his God.

Even better, Dream understood them. Dream recognized his skillset and praised them for it. Dream gave them a cloak when the cruel world had stripped them nude. Dream provided him with the one thing he'd been missing since the day they were born: a purpose. No longer did they walk this earth simply chasing the next high-paying job, merely collecting the gold and jewels by that point in his career.

Murder was sewn into Punz's very DNA. Death was how he entered the world, crying unaware while his mother took her last breath. His father never recovered, blaming his only child for the fate of his beloved. At the ripe age of ten years old, they killed their old man in self-defense.

Frankly, Punz was surprised he made it that long.

Odd jobs were the beginning. Anything for enough money to buy his next meal. Mercenary work was the natural succession. They didn't make a lot of friends, much too busy just trying to make it to tomorrow.

So, to learn that all their efforts had attracted the attention of a God? Punz felt like the king of kings. Finally, finally, he got the recognition he deserved. He wouldn't dare squander it.

The muffled confusion of one of their victims interrupted their thoughts.

Ah, right. They were in the middle of something important. How forgetful of him.

He walked to the first, reciting the incantation they'd memorized by heart, and used the dagger Dream had so graciously gifted him to slit their throat. The grass was soft and moist under their feet from the storm yesterday, dew glistening on the rose bushes like diamonds. Petrichor and a faint floral fragrance hung in the air.

The one that'd awoken screamed around her cloth gag. He decided to save her for last. Dream mentioned something about souls tasting sweeter the more they suffered at some point.

Blood splattered on their face and cloak when he cut too deep on one of them. Thankfully, their concerns over dirtying the clothing were long quelled. Dream said He liked the look of blood sullying it.

Soon enough, Punz stood in front of her, the woman--who he recognized as the head priestess--now fully alert and absolutely terrified judging by the sheen in her big green eyes. Almost as green as Dream's. He wondered how Dream's eyes would look when He saw what Punz accomplished.

A few days ago, he'd discovered another group that claimed to worship the God of Chaos. More so-called followers. Punz instantly saw right through them. Their sacrifices were laughably mediocre. They offered animals. Dream loved animals! All their chants were wrong, the symbols they used were wrong, everything wrong!

Naturally, Punz could not let such an injustice continue. It was becoming disturbingly clear that no one knew how to properly worship their God. A pity, because he believed his God deserved all the followers in the world, but not if they were so incompetent.

They said their incantation louder than the last times, grabbing her by the hair and making a point to hold eye contact while his dagger plunged into her stomach. He dragged the knife up, slicing through muscles and organs, and smiled as her sobbing grew louder and her eyes squeezed shut. With a twist, they angled the blade to her left breast, hearing the grind of bone against the metal. They peeled back the skin, cut away the fibrous tissues, and slid their fingers under her lung to grasp her heart--a difficult task due to how slippery his hand was from all the blood. With a strong tug, he ripped the still beating organ from her chest. The last thing she saw before her head limply fell forward.

After that, Punz walked to the altar and crushed the heart between both hands over the puppet that sat on its smooth, lacquered surface. Red liquid drenched and stained the wooden doll, chunks of soft flesh landing in its false hair. A puddle quickly grew around it, Punz's way of returning the favor. The doll, designed in Dream's likeness, was a gift after that almost lethal encounter with those bounty hunters. It served as both an excellent cuddle buddy and a way for Dream to know what was going on at all times.

"You've gotten quite messy with your sacrifices, Punz."

They lit up like a kid on Christmas. Punz turned, a Cheshire grin on his face and blood still dripping from his fingers. "My Lord! I didn't expect you so soon!"

"I've come to know big sacrifices like this mean you want to show me something. What have you done this time?" Dream tilted His head, smirking playfully and crossing His arms. Once again, He blessed them with the privilege of seeing His gorgeous face. It was happening more and more, and Punz fantasized about what it could mean.

"Do you recognize any of these people, my Lord?" They asked, approaching slowly, watching for any signs that Dream didn't yet want him close. His body language was a lot easier to read without His typical cloak, now merely donning simple loose fabrics around his hips and shoulders.

His God scanned the bodies before shrugging. "Not particularly."

"I knew it! Nothing but liars and false prophets, the lot of them! Barely even martyrs, how pathetic. You wouldn't believe the things they did in your name, my Lord. They completely twisted what it means to worship you!"

Dream hummed. His lighthearted air dropped along with His smile. "Your ramblings are even more nonsensical than usual. How much sleep did you get last night?"

"Sleep?" Punz paused. "I could not sleep. There was too much to do. And, truthfully, I-I was so excited to finish all this for you and see your reaction. You told me you thought roses were the prettiest flower, right? So, I figured what better sacrificing spot than a rose garde-"

"Punz. Come here."

They didn't like that tone. Nonetheless, he got closer until he stood just a foot away. "Yes, my Lord?"

"I appreciate your efforts. The roses are lovely and the sacrifices are nice as always. However..." He brought His hands to cup either side of Punz's face and the human melted immediately. "Worshippers that ignore their own needs are entirely useless to me. So, as your God, I command you to..." Punz steeled himself, expecting the worst. A useless worshipper deserved nothing more than death in their opinion. They only prayed Dream would make it a quick one. "Please, take a nap."

Punz blinked at Him. "A... nap?"

"Yes, a nap."

"But, I'm not tired..."

"Then I will lay with you until you fall asleep."

"You'll lay with me?" He questioned, so full of unabashed hope.

"If that'll help-"

"Yes! Yes, that would be wonderful."

Together, they settled against a nearby tree, Dream's back to the trunk and Punz laying atop His plush thighs. Dream's skin felt so much warmer and softer than that of His puppets--though he cherished them just as much. Normal pillows would probably be ruined for them now.

"I'm sorry, my Lord. This must be such a waste of your precious energy..." Punz murmured in a remorseful tone, fighting the strong urge to play with Dream's long blond waves that cascaded from beneath His hood.

"Hush now. This isn't about me." Dream closed Punz's eyes with a drag of His fingers before combing through their hair. The human easily relaxed under His touch.

"You're too kind to me, my Lord..."

"You're not kind enough to yourself."

"My sincerest apologies. I've disappointed you... I will do better, I swear it on my soul..." Punz's sleepy mumbles continued, but Dream paid them no mind. He simply continued playing with his hair, admiring the subtle contours of his face and how the rays of sun highlighted the gentleness of each slope. He thought about Punz's refusal to wear anything except the cloak He gave them those many weeks ago, now dirty and bloodied and stinky, until Dream made him a full outfit. And He mulled over how careless Punz was with their health, even barring the bounty hunter incident.

Most of all, He worried that He wasn't able to fix any of it. His threads could slice through flesh like butter and stitch it back together as if nothing had happened, but His threads could not combat these natural processes. They were powerless against the basic needs for food, water, and rest. He could not cure Punz of being human, of being mortal.

At least, not on His own...

No, surely Punz wouldn't agree to that. This was temporary, a kind of honeymoon phase. He just rode the high of being favored by a God. Soon, they'd realize what a terrible burden it truly was, what a burden Dream was.

Dream had long resigned to this knowledge. It'd happened before. In the end, all mortals were the same, prioritizing themselves above everything else. (They had every right to, really, what with such fleeting lifespans.)

Yet... Here this human was, losing sleep and sanity solely to make a pretty spot for sacrifices to Him. Dream could feel it; the dangerous fondness growing in His body that only worsened with each new show of devotion. His last contract utterly crushed Him. It taught Him how to cry. He could only imagine what He'd learn if this went on...

Dream plucked the puppet from the altar with his threads. A mere wave of His hand flicked all the blood off. Then, He placed it in Punz's hands where they soon hugged it to their chest with the sweetest smile.

He was too selfish. To be loved felt too good. And to be loved how Punz loved Him... A better feeling simply didn't exist.

He'd indulge as long as He could. The inevitable hadn't yet come to fruition. Dream could cherish this, for now.

#drunz #drunz god au #dream #punz #punzwastaken #bubble writes #they make me and also each other utterly insane #cw blood #cw gore #cw murder #cw sharp objects

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aphroditelovesu · 2 years

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How about another (Greek Myth) Yandere!Ares (platonic ofc) having child!reader who has very destructive power like everytime reader would dance she cause destruction through the whole place and is seen as a villain and is often (most likely everytime) is being bullied because of it when they were a child like y'know the usual

"Anyone who messes with you will be dead in seconds." - Ares.

❝⚔️— lady l: I made in form of an hc, I hope that's ok, since it wasn't specified xD anyway, I am hoping you like it, anon <3

❝⚔️ tw: yandere themes in general, mention of murder, torture, blood, kidnap and bullying.

It is absolutely necessary to say that Ares is an extremely proud father. From you, in case. None of their other children, not even Eros, have made him as proud as you do. You are everything the god adores, powerful, dangerous and deadly.

You've become his favorite child and he doesn't even try to hide his preference over his other children. None of them mattered, you did. You are the apple of your father's eye and he favors you greatly.

Ares loves to see the chaos you cause, how you blow things up, destroy everything and make victims of these tragedies. He almost weeps with pride at how much like him you are.

He laughs every time you blow something up, he claps when he sees the fire and people screaming in desperation. It's heaven as far as he's concerned and knowing that you, his child, were the one who caused it all only makes him happier and more satisfied.

However, he feels bad and confused when he sees you sad and downcast. Ares knows it's not easy to have that much power, though he doesn't really understand why you despair every time you get out of control. In your father's opinion, you should be happy and not sad. Ares doesn't understand that not everyone likes to hear and see things exploding and people dying.

When Ares finds out you're being bullied, he's furious and mad. His eyes glowed with hate and you could have sworn you saw the red color in them. Ares wanted and would kill whoever was bullying you. How dare they? Are they foolish enough to try to hurt the god of war's favorite child? Or do they just possess the death wish? No matter anymore, Ares would make them regret it.

You weren't a villain, no, you are Ares's perfect child and he would tell that you as much as it took to make you understand it.

Because of your lack of control you have over your powers, you would always dance in secluded places. You are a great dancer, although you stopped for a while because of the catastrophes that occurred. But Ares, like a good father, would encourage you to go back to dancing, and altought he doesn't like the idea, he'd even take you to a war camp if it made you feel better.

Ares is a brute. He is not good at comforting people, especially children, but he tries and strives to be kinder and soft with you. Smiling as gently as he could, wiping away all the blood he had on his armor, softening the steely gaze he possesses, hugging you gently as he whispers words of encouragement to you.

You will not be allowed to be romantically involved with anyone, let that be clear. Ares will allow you to grow but will ward off any suitors, similar to what Demeter did with Persephone, threats and promises of death will be made and it's not like anyone is going to try to go against the god of war. Ares would go so far as to ask Aphrodite not to make you fall in love with anyone. He can't take the risk of you replacing him, and even if you fell in love with someone, Ares would make his son Eros shoot a lead arrow at them. You will be with your father, safe and loved, away from any man or woman who takes an interest in you.

Ares would do anything for you, no matter what. He would be tolerant and loving towards you, his beloved and perfect child. Ares loves to see the destruction your power wreaks and when you grow up you would definitely drag you into war with him. But you'd stick with him, Ares can't risk getting you hurt, and if you still end up almost getting murdered by some soldier, well, you could say that soldier's country would be turned to ash. That's what they get for hurting his baby.

#yandere greek gods #yandere greek mythology #yandere platonic ares x child reader #yandere platonic ares #yandere ares #yandere platonic x child reader #yandere headcanons #greek mythology

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kiwikudio · 4 days

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Avatar: Fire and Ashes

Neteyam x Fem! Ash Na'vi Oc

Summary: When a deadly disease outbreak strikes the Metkayina, Jake and Neytiri travel across the ocean in search of its singular cure. There's only one problem. It's in another clan's territory, and they're not feeling very inclined to share. Especially after what they've heard about him.

Warning: graphic descriptions of violence, murder, MAJOR character death

Words: 3.4k

──────※ ·🔸️· ※──────

PROLOGUE

"This is the fifth time this moon, olo'eyktan, we cannot ignore this"

He gave a solemn nod of his head, his hairless brow creasing into currents of worry.

He had himself at a bit of a predicament, staring down at the product of a treaty signed many a season ago, when his turn of being chief was fresh, when it seemed too far away to matter for anything.

The poor man coughed out a pained wheeze, the teal points of his ears pressed flat to his head and the broad of his tail tucked in the valley of his thighs. It was quite unusual for a warrior to show cowardice like this, especially one of his standard.

Txanai certainly was no coward. Far from that; he was on caliber with the very best of his profession, with courage near matching those of the warriors in the tales told to generations of Metkayina infants.

Now he lay on the floor of the tsahik's marui, battered, dazed, traumatized; crimson pooling rapidly at his bruised side as Ronal scrambled to patch up his wounds.

They were pretty grave.

He was shot off of his tsurak, with half the length of an arrow plunging through and embedding itself into the flat of his stomach.

Not one of the Omatikaya arrows or one his own people used to spear through fish on hunts, no, this one had a distinction about it. It was smooth, slim, like most all he'd seen; with its slender body ending in a sharp tapering point, invisible from where it disappeared into the man's flesh. Only, instead of stiff, bright feathers like those used by the forest dwelling Na'vi, this had barbs. Short, jagged points sprouting out of its body, poking and scratching at any hand trying to tug it free from whatever it was buried in.

These arrows had a distinct smell, too. Putrid and pungent. Smoky, like the payoang when left hanging over the controlled fires to collect smoke under the sweltering heat of the day. Dank and musky, bitter on the tongue, like tar.

It smelled of burning. Of a thousand angry roaring infernos, fueled by the cruelty of their sadistic rage.

It smelled of fire.

Their fire.

A deep groan of agony roused the Metkayina man from his musings, he blinked his blueberry eyes a bit as they adjusted away from the visions of his mind.

Things weren't looking good.

A bead of sweat ran down Ronal's teal forehead as she worked over him, dosing the already dazed man with bucket loads upon bucket loads of pongu pongu- a drink usually reserved for celebration or to let one's mind unravel and go numb after a long hunting venture. This was no cause for celebration. It was being used to quell Txanai's suffering; and it was doing very little of a job.

The man's groans and hisses of pain set a feeling of discomfort within his own stomach, as if he himself had been impaled with the arrow instead of him.

He felt sorrow take over his heart; he'd been the one to oversee Txanai's training when he was a boy; all tousled curls of hair and explosive energy, eager and excited to get out onto the water and destroy all the akulas he could.

He would go on to kill one or two. But, sadly, never a third.

A grave look carved into his mate's features as she swiveled her head around to look at him, the seaweed green of her eyes conveying an alarming message.

"I cannot get it out," she croaked sorrowfully, a look of guilt passing like a shadow over her beautiful face, "it is stuck. The barbs dig into his flesh!"

His heart twisted anew beneath his muscled chest, for both his mate and his friend. Ronal always threw the blame onto her shoulders whenever a patient was unable to be healed, or was permanently disfigured.

She took the deaths hard, blaming herself for not toiling hard enough, for not saying enough prayers, for not getting there quicker.

Of course, this was absolute rubbish. She was the most efficient healer in the clan, exerting herself to the very fingertips of her potential to ease the pain of her clanmates. And she'd been doing it all alone, too.

Until their daughter, Tsireya, had come of age for her training and the great mother had sent a sign to the parents that the girl was to follow her mother's footsteps.

She was too hard on herself, he'd tried to tell her this. But, though she appreciated it, stubbornly continued in her ways, saying it helped make her a better healer.

○ ○ ○

When the sun sank down below the arch of the horizon's back; when the warriors, hunters, gatherers and weavers would be gathered together along a tree-speckled stretch of sand. All was quiet. There was no gathering- at least, not with the usual cheer and merriment that came with the close of another prosperous day.

People still gathered to munch on the ocean's yield of fish for the day, moseying about the beach to their families or to say a word to a friend.

Nobody dared speak above a whisper, nobody even thought to bring out the usual liquor chugged down by the buckets by the warriors. The suppressed air about the place even translated over to the ilu who's usual joyful clackering chatter couldn't be heard over the gentle waves.

Everything was still. Everything was silent. Everything was on edge.

He died that night.

At the still hour between eclipse and dawn. His heart went still and his suffering body laid limp. The poor soul, tortured in his last moments, was finally freed to ascend to Eywa.

A fifth man dead.

Gone to their ashen fury and cold territoriality. A mere meter in the wrong direction had cost a great warrior his life.

The arrow that had been the cause of his demise had to be cut out with the sharp blades of hunting knives. Usually ued to put an end to their quarries, Txanai's fellow comrades detested the task of shearing him open. Cutting him down to the bone until the thin wood could be pried free.

It punctured into his spine, wedged in the little spaces between the angular vertebrae, chipping a few fragments of bone off. His back had been broken; quite literally sliced in two.

There was nothing that could've been done that would've changed the course of his fate. He was a goner from the moment he rode his tsurak past the jagged boulder that signaled their border.

Amongst the grief and mourning, the air about the Metkayina was also weighted with something else.

Fear.

Dread. Worry for the future. They'd tampered with the already leaf-thin patience of the olo'reypay. Someone was almost certainly next in the line of fire.

They'd killed and decimated once, and Tonowari knew all too well, they'd be more than willing- eager, even, to do it again.

He took to the sands, cool beneath the soles of his feet from the breezy night air that carried the scent of the sea. His gaze traced the arch of the water's spine, twisting up to keep much of its vastness out of view.

They were out there. Plotting in the underbelly of their village, no doubt swinging a multitude of vile curses in the path of the reef people. His people.

How was he going to protect them?

When it came to war with the RDA he led his people with the courage and surety that they were fighting against the enemy of Eywa'eveng. Now, the enemy was much closer and common to home, too common.

He let out a sigh, his gaze unwavering over the tiny, barely there speck of green.

They were on the very precipice of a bloodbath.

──────────※ ·🔸️· ※─────────

Several cycles ago...

The terrain was rough and unforgiving beneath her bare feet, sharp stones scraped the skin on her toes, causing aches and sores to bloom beneath her skin. She was tired, bordering on exhaustion, but she dared not stop, for the entity would catch her

They trudged for what felt like moons. Up the rugged surface of Txepram incline, not stopping for a moment, not even a second, for evil hunts those in unawares. Tsahìk and Txepanyu headed the party, parting the winds with their rhythmic chants and low, crooning prayers. The herbs they strew about the footpath smelled suave and pleasant, sending a dizzying thrill through her skull.

Inevitably, the girl began to fall behind, her shorter legs lacking in contrast to the longer strides of the adult Na'vi. This sparked the attention of one of the soldiers. Tumok - the girl's father - turned back around when he could no longer hear her footsteps behind him, a look of disapproval twisted his face as he marched back along the path to retrieve his daughter

He harshly grasped at her arm, scowling his displeasure as he tugged her further up the slope.

"Be swift, 'ite," he hissed, stringing her along in a not so gentle manner, she let out a surprised yelp as her feet scraped against the rough stone, "night is approaching, oare will crest her peak soon"

They continued on- through thick bush and rocky outcrop, through sparse field and eclipse-dark cave. Up and up and up the steep incline of great Txepram. The mountain was mighty, living- a force to be reckoned with. If she did not wish you to set foot on her stone-strewn cliffs, she would make it clear.

Powerful, stinking winds buffeted against them, pushing them back with their each step. The mountain was testing them, setting trials across their path, testing their tenacity.

She had once heard that the higher up you are, the cooler the air around you. This, she realized, was a lie. It was so hot she felt as if lava was running the length of her veins, boiling her blood beneath her skin. Her eyes watered from the buffeting winds, shielding her face with one hand from the tiny fragments of dust and rock that viciously assaulted her face.

The adults seemed completely unfazed by the pelting.

The howl of the wind muted to a thin wail by the time they got to their destination. A cave, corralled between two gigantic boulders, valleyed between two tapering mountain peaks. The wind had ceased here, no longer able to reach them for the shields of the two rock faces. The air here was strange- willowy and thin, emitting a mournful howling wail that ricocheted off the stone walls.

She felt a tremor course down her spine, she shrank beneath her skin, intimidated.

Lined with vine tendrils and sheaves of herbs, the cave entrance opened up like a giant black mouth, waiting to swallow her whole into its great, cold stomach.

"Come now," Zímí - the tsahìk - softly spoke, gesturing with a scoop of her palm for the party to follow, "Txepram is welcoming us, we must hurry before we are no longer wanted"

Slowly, they began their descent, trailing into the great dark of the cavity. The walls had a sizably wide distance separating them, but despite this they walked in single file right down the middle of the cave. The pattering sound of footsteps echoed and magnified a million billion times, making the child flatten her ears to drown out the omnipresent drum of marching soldiers, looming just over her shoulder, darting away when she turned behind.

The cavernous decline came to an abrupt halt at the gaping maw of yet another cave. This one was different, however, as it did not expand into darkness like the first- instead, it opened up to reveal something truly mesmerizing.

The girl's fear was now gone, vanished as if taken by the wind. Her attention was gathered, rapt, obedient to the chill-inducing wonder her eyes now drank in. She let her jaw go slack and her young eyes go huge, expanding in pure, youngling amazement.

Before her was something she had never seen before- something she had been told existed, but couldn't count on her imagination to manifest such a dreamlike place.

The cave mouth stretched wider and higher the further they stepped in. Star-like freckles dotted the unreachable expanse of the ceiling, hiding in the uneven gouges and growths, glowing a light, riveting blue. The glows danced across her vision, melding together to form a singular form, a river, leading further inwards.

She followed the river's snaking path with her wonder-struck gaze. It wound throughout the ceiling, twisting and curving until it ran down a wall further to the back, pooling in a lake of brightness on the floor. At the mouth of this illuminated body, carved into the stone floor, was a great indent, cupping around a shallow-looking pond.

What was most peculiar about this water was that it was completely clean, poreless, devoid of any and all imperfections. Its surface possessed no ripples, no leaf or twig floated in its depths. It was like a round, unblinking eye, only without a pupil dot.

This place secreted a sense of sacred importance, as if its beauty was reserved for the eyes of those with great accomplishments or who have been chosen to bear such an honor as to set their sights upon it. Immediately she grew more aware of herself- her skinny, youngling frame; she was not worthy nor important enough to see this place, let alone taint its surface with her muddied feet.

She had not realized she had been staring until she received a sharp nudge to her shoulder. A sour-mouthed warrior - one of the escorts - gave her an icy look, then cocked his head in the direction of the healer and spiritual leader- who had already begun making their way towards the still pool.

She, stiffly, hurried to follow.

"Come, child", Zími's gentle voice soothed the insecure rigidness that had set into her bones, she relaxed a bit, letting taught shoulders fall low and twitching tail lie still. She breathed deep, drawing cool air into her lungs, and expelled it, throwing out her worries along with it.

This was going to work, the preparations she had been making over the last two moons - the prayers, the ritual cleansings, the special (especially sour) herbs she had taken to consuming - it was all in good progress.

Tsahìk watched the surface of the water with peaking interest, her amber gaze brightening with new fires.

"Hurry, we are just in time"

She took her seat right at the pools edge, the glowing water pulsed at her feet, as if sensing her presence.

She tried her best to sit still as the healer adorned her skin with itchy paint, dipping her pale fingers into the bright reds and yellows, drawing careful, measured lines down her face and her arms. She traces the faint striped markings meandering over her physique, almost completely drowning out the dark clouds of gray, interchanged to a piercing white.

All the while tsahìk did this, the spiritual leader was busy in his own endeavors. Using a chunk of charcoal, he'd drawn a circle around them, scattered it with shredded leaves and crushed powders. It looked more like he was making a mess than anything.

When the final stroke was painted, the final herb planted in its place, they began.

It started out as a lowly whisper, then, gradually, it grew and grew to a mournful cry. The two spiritual leaders swayed and swung themselves from one side to another, eyes closed, mouths uttering strange combinations of words she could not comprehend. Like blue-grey dust storms, they swayed in a circular motion, keeping their lower halves stationery while their upper halves moved.

It was a haunting, confusing dance. Weaving icy fear and stark bewilderment into her gut.

As if in response to their cries, the water began to ripple and flash. Lights, like tiny fish, dazzled and darted about the surface. She watched in amazement as the lights became more frequent, growing in number, racing and racing across the water's surface until the light sliced through her eyes, too blinding to look at.

Tsahìk bent down, cup in hand, and scooped the luminous liquid from the pool.

"Näk"

It felt cold going down her throat, viciously cold. The bitter, biting chill burned her throat and she had to fight off the urge to cough it up. It didn't taste as fresh or entrancing as she had thought. It just hurt.

Then tsahìk extracted a pouch from the satchel round her waist. Inside was a mixture of volcanic ash and various scented herbs. The girl's nose wrinkled as the almost offending pungent smell plugged up her nostrils. It was strong!

Tsahìk fetched another gourd-full of the stinging water and tossed the powder in, mixing and mulching the smelly mixture into a thick, viscous paste. It felt as if ice was stabbing into her skull when tsahìk poured the thick poultice into her hair, further driving it in with her adept hands as she massaged and rubbed it into her scalp.

Her hair was a deep dark grey when she saw her reflection next. Sticky and slimy and disgusting.

Luckily, that would all be washed out. Skilled hands scooped and lathered the water into her scalp, one pair rough with age, the other calloused by toil.

All the while, their chants continued, creating chillingly aweing echoes that bounced off the cave walls.

"Sno tìlayro, ma swoktu"

"Snol txoa livu, nawma ramìl"

"Neto fyawìntxuyuti tìvawm"

When her hair was washed clean of all the grime, the prayers stopped, dropping them into a sort of eerie silence. It was as if the tranquility of the cave had suddenly been shattered. She felt instantly cold. Behind her, tsahìk and txepanyu were staring, horrified. The ripples and blemishes on the pond's surface faded, returning it to perfection. She leaned forwards, catching sight of her reflection.

Her heart sank.

There she was. Her little oval-shaped face. Two orange embers for eyes. Pale skin with cloudy markings. Her hair... her hair was the same too. Dark, flowing waves... broken by rivers of white.

It did not work...

Txepanyu drew back from her with a cry, wringing and wiping his wrinkled hands, ridding himself of her. Tsahìk did the same. Her fearful prayers bounced off the walls, going unanswered. The child looked about her with wide eyes. Her father would not meet her eyes. The warrior escorts drew their daggers, teeth bared.

"Vrrtepur! Vrrtepur!"

Her heart gave a fearful contraction. One of the warriors began his approach. The surface of his dark blade glinted in the dim light. She scrunched her eyes shut, not wanting to see the end. The onyx blade swung towards her, aiming to pierce the flesh of her throat-

"Pey!"

The tsahìk's stiff shout rebounded off the walls, echoing to the outside, seeming to shake the whole mountain with its force. Everyone stilled. The onyx blade that had been moments away from snuffing her lifeblood out was reluctantly retracted. The feeling of its cold, cutting edge lingered on her skin. Acutely aware of the thickening tension around her, she slowly peeled back the veils of her eyelids.

"There is no blood present in the water, Ka'hatu is dormant," both dragged their gazes to rest on her scant frame, both envenomed by dark dislike, "it would be an unlawful slaying"

A shiver cascaded down her spine. Dread awakened in her belly. The weight of the realization dawned on her, she felt as if the cave ceiling was crashing down on her head. Contaminated... ostracized for life.

She looks upon her father, desperate to catch his eye. He returns her gaze. A shock of sadness washes over her when she sees the anger swirling in his eyes. He turns up his nose and looks away, a flash of negative emotion blighting his eye. Accusation.

She watched helplessly as he turned around, storming out of the cave, being swallowed by the darkness.

She was alone now, her proximity to others, no matter how close, would no longer matter.

Today would be the last time he called her daughter.

___________________֍☯֍___________________

Na'vi Dictionary

Olo'eyktan - clan leader, usually male // tsahik - high priestess, matriarch // payoang - fish // tsurak - skimwing // olo'reypay - clan of blood (olo' - clan, reypay - blood) // Oare - moon // 'ite - daughter // Txepanyu - reader of fire (txep - fire, inan - to read) // Näk - drink // Vrrtepur (vrrtep) - demon //

Phrases

Sno tìlayro, ma swoktu - set her free, sacred one (sno - her/him/them, tìlayro - freedom, swok - sacred, 'tu - person)

Snol txoa livu, nawma ramìl - forgive her, great mountain (snol - her/him/them, txoa - forgiveness, livu - to be, nawma - great/ noble, ram - mountain)

Neto fyawìntxuyuti tìvawm - guide away from darkness (neto - away [direction], fyawìntxuyuti - guide, tìvawm - darkness)

#avatar #avatar twow #jake sully #kiri sully #loak sully #neteyam #neytiri #tuk sully #avatar 3 #avatar 2009 #avatar 2022 #miles quaritch #na'vi #avatar fics #avatar fanfiction

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wordtotherose · 7 months

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Orin dies bloody.

And then dissolves into putrid viscera and sludge that has Astarion grimacing and taking several steps away from the puddle that once was Bhaal's chosen. It seeps underneath Elizia's boots. She stands, dumbstruck, sword and Rhapsody dripping blood and poison into the mix on the floor. She had expected...more. A tougher fight. Worse injuries to their party. Exhilaration, perhaps, at having won, at having all three stones in their grasp. Instead, it's...hollow.

Similar to how it had felt looking down at Raphael's still smouldering corpse in the House of Hope. The same as how it had been to land the last arrow in Gortash's back.

Easy. It was all so easy now.

And that was terrifying.

At what point will the god of murder turn his attention to her scores of lives taken, at what point does she become like Orin? Taking too much joy in the well executed slash of her blades? The pin point accuracy of her crossbow shots?

There's movement from the altar in front of her, around which she'd led Orin and her followers in their deadly dance for barely even /twenty minutes/- What had even been the killing blow? One moment she was slicing through Orin's arms and then she was on the ground, body giving out at last, dragging itself across the ground towards her, her torso ripping itself away from her legs in the process. The sound of it will haunt her for years, she knows. The fetid squelch of organs spilled onto unholy ground harmonising with the creaking and cracking of bones giving out slowly, oh so slowly.

"Halsin's waking up."

Continue Reading on AO3 or under the cut.

Shadowheart.

Halsin.

Movement. Altar. Forwards, move forwards. Enough thinking. More doing.

"Astarion."

"Oh for a skeleton key," comes the usual lamentation before he's up next to Halsin's prone but waking body.

Elizia watches the vampire kneel with a grimace to get a better angle, sticking well-used and well-loved lockpicks inbetween his lips as he starts to find the best for the job. Confident that it won't be long before Halsin is freed, she crouches down as close to the ground as needs and no more. It isn't about what she can stomach, what she can live with touching and having been touched by. It never has been. She can handle anything if she must. That's a fact written into the core of her being, proven time and time again. Steeling herself before plunging her fingers into the horrendous mess that was Orin is easy. Sifting through the mess is easy. Taking the stone, so light and so filled with magic and responsibility. Easy. The dagger is a predictably powerful weapon even with the stone removed so she slips it under her belt. The stone is dropped into the pouch tied securely under numerous layers of her armour with the other two, close to her skin, safe as she can get them. They hum, vibrating like they're greeting each other.

"Welcome back to the world of the living," Astarion drawls and Elizia makes it over to his side in two long strides, shaking the last drops of blood from her fingertips.

Shadowheart is already handing the burly druid a large health potion but he waves it off, casting a, surprisingly strong for what he's been through, healing spell on himself instead. There's not a lot of blood on him. Not as much as she'd feared. What is there seems to have been smeared from other sacrifices and whilst he certainly has numerous deep cuts that will more than likely scar, the spell knits them up neatly. All in all, he looks well. Orin kept her word.

"My friends," Halsin says warmly, rubbing his wrists before swinging his legs round to reach the floor, Astarion in comparison cannot stretch his feet to the ground whilst sitting up there and instead has to jump down, "you came for me."

"Of course, Halsin," Elizia says with a smile she wishes weren't so tense. "We were hardly going to leave you to Orin to torture forever. I can only apologise that we didn't come sooner."

A large hand holds her shoulder, shaking her ever so gently, she looks down at her shoes, unable to bare the sheer gratitude in his eyes. Weeks. He'd been here for two weeks. And yet he touches her like the friends they were before she let him be taken. Before she actively, time and again, made the decision, gave the order, to leave him to Orin's devices.

"You have nothing to apologise for. I, on the other hand, must ask your forgiveness. Whilst I do not know how exactly she got to me, and how exactly she moved all of me, that must have been...no, nevermind. I should not have been such easy prey for her to use against you all. She should not have been able to get the better of me."

Elizia shakes her head, the clasps of her braids clacking across her armour. She covers his hand with one of her own and gives it a squeeze, braving the sincerity he looks at her with. "No, Halsin. We had no way of knowing. It could have been any of us."

"You are too kind by far, Tav. I know you would have come regardless to take down Orin but it warms me to be-"

"Sorry to interrupt," Astarion cuts in, not apologetic at all. "Do you think we could move this touching reunion somewhere less noxious and, frankly, disgusting? Above ground perhaps?"

"Not a fan of the blood, Astarion?" Shadowheart teases. "I'd have thought this to be a wonderland for your kind."

Astarions scowls at her, voice condescending as he snarks back, hands on his hips. "I prefer my blood uncorrupted, thank you very much. I do have standards."

"Stop it," Elizia snaps, sending a warning look at Astarion when he opens his mouth to continue needling.

Continue Reading on AO3

[Hello all! This is like over 25k words so whilst I'll be posting the start of each chapter on here like this every update, if you want to read the full thing head on over to AO3!]

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #bg3 #my writing #fanfic #tav #astarion x oc #astarion x tav #I'll make it through the winter

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jazzy---j · 1 year

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Daughter of Poseidon: The Lightning Thief

“even the gods have to bow to fate”

Chapter Summary: A simple game of deadly capture the flag turns into the worst day of Cassie's life.

Masterlist >>> Read on ao3 (8/23)

We Capture A Flag

Believe it or not, the next few days were normal. Normal in the sense that I settled into a routine, not the getting lessons from satyrs, nymphs, and a centaur.

Each morning Percy and I took Ancient Greek from Annabeth, and we talked about the gods and goddesses in the present tense, which was kind of weird. Annabeth was right about our dyslexia: Ancient Greek wasn't that hard for me to read. At least, no harder than English. After a couple of mornings, even Percy could stumble through a few lines of Homer without too much headache.

The rest of the day, we'd both rotate through outdoor activities, looking for something to be good at. Chiron tried to teach us archery, but we found out pretty quickly that we weren't any good with a bow and arrow. He didn't complain, even when he had to de-snag a stray arrow out of his tail.

Foot racing? Not good either. The wood-nymph instructors and Hermes kids left us in the dust. And wrestling? Forget it. Despite my protests, Percy wouldn't let me go anywhere near the mat with Clarisse. I was left watching from the sidelines as she beat the snot out of my brother as the other Ares kids cheered her on. Markus seemed to be the only one of them that didn't seem to delight in my brother's public humiliation, but he rarely seemed interested in anything at all other than those knives and daggers he constantly was tossing and playing around with.

The only thing we really excelled at was canoeing, and that wasn't the kind of heroic godlike skill that they created myths about.

I knew the senior campers and counselors were watching us both, trying to decide who our dad was, but they weren't having an easy time of it. The fact that we weren't half-siblings, as far as I know, wasn't helping anyone. Apparently, It was rare for siblings to have the same godly parent. But Percy and I looked too alike to be half-siblings. Plus, my mom had only talked about just one guy my entire life.

Either way, I began to rule out our potential fathers. As freakin crazy as that sounds. We both weren't as strong as the Ares kids, or as good at archery as the Apollo kids. I definitely didn't have Hephaestus's skill with metalwork or—gods forbid, Percy stated—Dionysus's way with vine plants.

Luke tried to treasure us that we might be a child of Hermes, a kind of jack-of-all-trades, master of none. But I knew he was just trying to make us feel better. He really didn't know what to make of us either.

Regardless, I was actually starting to like camp. I was comforted by the morning fog over the beach, the smell of hot strawberry fields in the afternoon, and even the weird noises of monsters in the woods at night. Which was really not that different from the noise in the city. I would eat dinner with my brother and cabin eleven, scrape part of my meal into the fire, and speak to my dad. Day after day, a quick plea to just tell us who he is. Nothing came. Just a warm feeling that Percy talked about sometimes, the memory of his smile. I had never really cared about it before but, to be in the place where he wanted us to go... knowing who he was seemed a little more important than before.

I tried not to think or talk too much about my mom, but Percy kept saying that if gods and monsters were real, if all this magical stuff was possible, surely there was some way to save her, to bring her back. I don't know if that was even possible but I started to understand Luke's bitterness and how he seemed to resent his father, Hermes.

Like yeah, maybe gods had important things to do. But couldn't they call once in a while, or thunder, or something? Dionysus could make Diet Coke appear out of thin air. Why couldn't my dad, whoever he was, make a phone appear? Instead, he showed no sign that he ever existed.

Thursday morning, three days after I'd arrived at Camp Half-Blood, I visited the archery range, determined to try again and at least hit the target. I made sure to lug a target to a secluded area deeper into the woods so no one would be able to see all my spectacular failures. This precaution held true as I started to get frustrated when my 7th arrow went wide and landed on the ground nowhere near the target. I had started to pull back my 8th arrow when I heard a rustle in the forest behind me.

I quickly whipped my head around to peer into the bushes. The noise was probably a drayd that lived in the trees around camp but, I remembered Annabeth talking about the monsters that were sometimes in the woods and my heart started pounding a little faster in my chest. I clutched the bow in my hand tighter and yelled, "Who's there?"

After a moment of silence, I thought whatever had made that sound moved on but, the sound of a twig snapping proved that something was still there. Fine. If it wasn't gonna come out on its own I was gonna make it. I lifted my bow, pulled back the arrow, and aimed at the noise, saying, "If you don't come out I'll shoot!"

Slowly someone moved out of the forest line, with their hands up, and into the clearing, "Based on your seven missed shots I don't think I'm in that much danger."

"Markus," I grit out pulling the bow even tighter and aiming for his bored face, "what ar- were you watching me!?"

He tilted his head in a so-so type of way, "I didn't mean to- could you please put the bow down? Please?" A little bit of unease crept into his voice.

I snorted, "why? I thought I couldn't hit you." "You can't, your form is the worst I've ever seen but an arrow is an arrow and I’d rather it not be pointed at my face," he said plainly. I narrowed my eyes, "Why should I? You and your sister tried to give my brother a swirly!"

He groaned and threw his head back, "I- I'm sorry about that… sometimes I get caught up in what my siblings are doing… I- I don’t think, ya know? I just do."

I stared at his eyes, usually so guarded, but at this moment steadily looking at me, remorse filled his gaze. But you know what, he had been a total jerk, so I was gonna be a jerk.

I moved the point of the arrow away from his face, pulled back as far as I could, and let go. He didn't even flinch when the arrow sailed wide of his face and landed in the bushes behind him. But I saw a flash of an emotion I could not recognize in his eyes as I moved to slowly lower the bow and he slowly lowered his hands.

Cooly, he said, "Told you so."

My face burned in embarrassment. Obviously, I missed, everyone knew that would happen but his calm reaction to my tantrum made me feel foolish. Which only fueled my frustration with him. I mean, come on, this guy is being a jerk and not even giving me the basic human decency of a response. How rude is that?

"Why won't you just leave me alone?" I hissed at him.

He didn't respond and just stared. His dark eyes bore into me, searching for something. His stoic expression made me squirm uncomfortably. Two can play at whatever game is going on.

"Why were you watching me?" I asked schooling my face into a measured glare.

His lips quirked at the gesture and continued to study me so curiously that I almost didn't think he heard me. "Why were you following me?!" I stomped my foot angrily in emphasis. He chuckled and began to circle me, finally answering, "Isn't everyone watching you, trying to see what you and your brother can do?"

That didn't really explain why HE was watching me now, or any of the other times really. I tried to follow his movements, keeping my eyes on him, as he paced around me like a shark.

I narrowed my eyes. "That all you got? Dude not only were you just watching me in the bushes like a stalker, but you visited me in the infirmary to what? Talk? I mean seriously what is your problem?"

He stopped circling to firmly stand in front of me, close enough for me to get a whiff of pine from his shirt.

"I sensed your power as soon as you crossed the border. It was... interesting," he paused seeming unsure, "I wanna know if you are a threat to the camp or not. I have never sensed someone as powerful as you or your brother."

I couldn't help but laugh incredulously, "Me and Percy a threat?! Please, I mean we can cause a mess if we want to but like a threat? Ha." Wow, these guys took this medieval stuff seriously. What really bothered me was how he said he could sense my power. Was he saying he could like smell me or something? I sniffed my shirt discreetly as he scowled in my direction.

"This is not a joke. Something is coming and you and your brother are at the center of it," he pressed urgently.

I rolled my eyes at that, "Oh yeah, and how do you know? Can you tell the future or something?" I mocked.

He stiffened, "thankfully, I do not have that gift but my father did bless me in other ways. I can sorta feel the potential power of demigods or monsters or whoever it is."

His father, the god of war, I remembered. Knowing that, him being some kinda power radar makes sense. Seemed very helpful to be able to immediately size up someone before a fight.

I frowned, "So, what's the plan then? Are you just gonna stalk me forever?" I knew I was being difficult but you know what, this guy was stressing me out. More than before. He was gonna have to be a little nicer if he wanted me to make whatever this conversation was easier for him.

He closed his eyes and signed, seeming to gather himself, and calmly responded, "No, no I... I want to help you."

I blinked at him dumbly, "Help me?"

He seemed very uncomfortable and very out of his element but continued, "Yeah, like get the hang of camp and everything."

I stared at him for a moment, until it clicked in my head and I gasped, "Oh, ok you wanna be friends?" Nobody has ever actively tried to be my friend before. I was always too much of a bad influence to be invited over to someone's house to play dolls or have a sleepover. Despite myself, I felt a growing bubbling excitement in my stomach.

He frowned and shook his head, "No, no I don't need any friends. I just don't want any weak links walking around," He paused, "Something is coming and we ALL need to be ready."

My excitement dimmed at his confession.

Ouch ok, that stings on multiple levels. But as I began to turn over his words in my head, I realize he was right. Percy and I were so far behind everyone else, I could barely fire an arrow, let alone hit a target. We got lucky with the Minotaur and Mrs. Dodds, it would take a miracle if I wanted to survive in this place. I would need some help.

I sighed and took a deep breath. "Ok, ok, ok why don't we start over, and then we can talk about your advice or whatever? Deal?" I held out my hand for him to shake.

At that moment all time seemed to stand still as we eyed each other warily, on the edge of something new and unfamiliar to both of us. Suddenly, he grabbed my hand and shook it.

"Deal."

Markus helped me put away all the archery stuff and we began to awkwardly walk in the direction of the training ring. I knew this guy was not trying to help me just out of the goodness of his heart but I would try to make the best of it. But as I glanced to my left at Markus's intense face I couldn't help but wonder what I had gotten myself into. I wiped my sweaty palms against my jeans. Damn nerves.

We reached the arena just as Percy and the other campers were gathering around the center training ring to start the sword-fighting lesson. I began to feel more and more uneasy as everybody from cabin eleven gathered in the big circular arena, where Luke would be the instructor. If they didn't notice Markus and I show up together then they definitely noticed our closeness as we stood on the side of the ring and were probably wondering if he was holding me captive.

Either that or, why wasn't I out there with Percy skewering the other kids? What they didn't know is that earlier that day when Annabeth took Percy and me to the shed by the armory to pick a weapon, as soon as I touched a sword I got the immediate feeling of wrongness. So strong that I got vertigo. Every weapon in the shed I tried was uncomfortable in my hand. So, no I would not be joining in the wholesome fun today.

They started with basic stabbing and slashing, using some straw-stuffed dummies in Greek armor. For his first day, Percy was doing okay. At least, I think he was, he looked like he knew what he was doing.

The main problem was, that like me, he couldn't find a blade that felt right. I could tell by his face that they were either too heavy, or too light, or too long. Luke was trying his best to help him out but even he agreed that none of the practice blades seemed to work for him.

I glanced over at Markus to see him intently studying everyone in the ring. "Why aren't you up there?" I ask. He didn’t even move his eyes from the ring as he declared, "I practice with all kinds of weapons, but this is not an interdisciplinary class." He paused glancing at me in mild disdain, "but what I'm doing or not doing doesn't matter right now. Watch what's going on now you’re gonna need it later."

I frowned at him because one, he was being rude, and two, I didn't even know what to look for. Nevertheless, I focused my attention back on the ring.

They began to move on to dueling in pairs. Luke announced he would partner with Percy since this was his first time.

Markus nodded, "That's a good matchup." "Why?" I questioned "Luke's the best swordsman in the last three hundred years." My eyes widened, "that's not a good matchup, he is gonna beat the crap out of him!" He shrugged, "best way to learn is to be thrown to the wolves."

I very much disagreed with that. "Maybe he'll go easy on him," I said. Markus gave me a side eye that said he didn't believe that for one second.

Luke showed Percy thrusts and parries and shield blocks the hard way.

With every swipe, he got a little more battered and bruised. "Keep your guard up, Percy," Luke said, then whapped him in the ribs with the flat of his blade.

"No, not that far up!" Whap! "Lunge!" Whap! "Now, back!" Whap!

I winced at every blow. By the time he called a break, Percy was soaked in sweat. Everybody swarmed the drinks cooler. Luke poured ice water on his head.

I bounded over to Percy waiting his turn, "Dude, are you ok? You're kinda getting pummeled out there."

Percy gave me a wild look like he can't believe I just said that. "Yuh, think?" Percy exclaimed out of breath as he reached down in the cooler copying Luke and pouring ice water over his face.

Instantly, his eyes seemed more alert than before and his sword didn't look so awkward in his hands.

"Okay, everybody circle up!" Luke ordered. "If Percy doesn't mind, I want to give you a little demo." Great, I thought. Let's all watch Percy get pounded some more.

The Hermes guys gathered around. They were suppressing smiles. I figured they'd been in Percy's position before and this was some sort of stupid initiation ritual. Luke told everybody he was going to demonstrate a disarming technique: how to twist the enemy's blade with the flat of your own sword so that he had no choice but to drop his weapon. "This is difficult," he stressed. "I've had it used against me. No laughing at Percy, now. Most swordsmen have to work years to master this technique."

He demonstrated the move on Percy in slow motion. Sure enough, the sword clattered out of my brother's hand.

"Now in real-time," he said after Percy had retrieved his weapon. "We keep sparring until one of us pulls it off. Ready, Percy?"

I held my breath as Percy nodded, and Luke came after him. Somehow, Percy kept him from getting a shot at the hilt of his sword.

My eyes widened as they sparred. It was turning out to be a real match with Percy seeing his attacks coming and countering. He even was stepping forward and tried out a few thrusts of his own. Luke deflected it easily, but I saw the change in his face. His eyes narrowed, and he started to press Percy with more force.

I saw the look on my brother's face and could tell he knew that it was only a matter of seconds before Luke took him down.

His only option was to throw caution to the wind and try the disarming maneuver. His blade hit the base of Luke's and he twisted, leaning his whole weight into a downward thrust.

Clang.

Luke's sword rattled against the stones. The tip of Percy's blade was an inch from his undefended chest.

The other campers were silent. I was silent. I couldn't believe it worked.

Percy lowered his sword, looking around at everyone staring at him, and muttered, "Um, sorry." For a moment, Luke was too stunned to speak.

"Sorry?" His scarred face broke into a grin. "By the gods, Percy, why are you sorry? Show me that again!"

Percy looked hesitant. But Luke insisted.

This time, there was really no contest. The moment their swords connected, Luke hit Percy's hilt and sent his weapon skidding across the floor.

After a long pause, somebody in the audience said, "Beginner's luck?"

Luke wiped the sweat off his brow. He appraised my brother with an entirely new interest. Like he was this new variable that he had never considered until now. Something about that rubbed me the wrong way.

"Maybe," he said. "But I wonder what Percy could do with a balanced sword... ."

I looked around the ring back to where I left Markus. But there was no one there.

Friday afternoon, I was sitting with Percy and Grover at the lake, resting from a near-death experience on the climbing wall. Grover had scampered to the top like a mountain goat, but the lava had almost gotten Percy. His shirt had smoking holes in it, and the hairs had been singed off his forearms.

I, on the other hand, had to visit the burn ward in the healer's tent to get my leg bandaged. We sat on the pier, watching the naiads do underwater basket-weaving until Percy got up the nerve to ask Grover how his conversation had gone with Mr. D. His face turned a sickly shade of yellow.

"Fine," he said. "Just great."

"So your career's still on track?" Percy sounded hopeful, but I knew better. Based on what Chiron said I don't think it would be so simple.

He glanced at us nervously. "Chiron t-told you I want a searcher's license?"

"Well... no." I nudged Percy to stop talking. I had no idea what a searcher's license was, but it didn't seem like the right time to ask.

"He just said you had big plans, you know," I chimed in "... and that you needed credit for completing a keeper's assignment. So did you get it?"

Grover looked down at the naiads. "Mr. D suspended judgment. He said I hadn't failed or succeeded with you yet, so our fates were still tied together. If you got a quest and I went along to protect you, and we both came back alive, then maybe he'd consider the job complete."

I let out a huge breath. "Well, that's not so bad, right?"

"Blaa-ha-ha! He might as well have transferred me to stable-cleaning duty. The chances of either of you getting a quest... and even if you did, why would you want me along?"

"Of course, we'd want you along!" Percy exclaimed. I nodded my head in agreement.

Grover stared glumly into the water. "Basket-weaving ... Must be nice to have a useful skill." Percy tried to reassure him that he had lots of talents, but that just made him look more miserable. I wisely kept my mouth shut, knowing nothing I could say would do much.

I changed the subject and we talked about canoeing and swordplay for a while, then debated the pros and cons of the different gods and who our dad could be.

Finally, I asked a question that had been bothering me since we got here, "So, what's the deal with the empty cabins? Are those campers not here yet or something?"

"Number eight, the silver one, belongs to Artemis," he said. "She vowed to be a maiden forever. So of course, no kids. The cabin is, you know, honorary. If she didn't have one, she'd be mad."

"Yeah, okay. But the other three, the ones at the end. Are those the Big Three?" I press. Grover tensed. We were getting close to a touchy subject. "No. One of them, number two, is Hera's," he said. "That's another honorary thing. She's the goddess of marriage, so of course she wouldn't go around having affairs with mortals. That's her husband's job. When we say the Big Three, we mean the three powerful brothers, the sons of Kronos."

"Zeus, Poseidon, Hades," Percy chimed in.

"Right. You know. After the great battle with the Titans, they took over the world from their dad and drew lots to decide who got what."

"Zeus got the sky," I remembered. "Poseidon the sea, Hades the Underworld."

"Uh-huh," Grover affirms.

Percy furrowed his brows, "But wait, Hades doesn't have a cabin here."

"No. He doesn't have a throne on Olympus, either. He sort of does his own thing down in the Underworld. If he did have a cabin here..." Grover shuddered. "Well, it wouldn't be pleasant. Let's leave it at that."

"Well that doesn't seem very fair," I exclaim, "aren't they a family?"

Grover looks at me a little funny, "Not that kind of family."

I considered his words. Yeah, I guess he was right, I mean all we talked about in Mr. Brunner's Latin class was how the gods were not that kind of family. They were always backstabbing, marrying, or generally causing chaos for each other and the world. Of course, they would leave out the weird emo brother, just cause.

Percy still wasn't satisfied with that answer, "but Zeus and Poseidon—they both had, like, a bazillion kids in the myths. Why are their cabins empty?"

Grover shifted his hooves uncomfortably. "About sixty years ago, after World War II, the Big Three agreed they wouldn't sire any more heroes. Their children were just too powerful. They were affecting the course of human events too much, causing too much carnage. World War II, you know, that was basically a fight between the sons of Zeus and Poseidon on one side and the sons of Hades on the other. The winning side, Zeus and Poseidon, made Hades swear an oath with them: no more affairs with mortal women. They all swore on the River Styx."

Thunder boomed.

Percy muttered, "That's the most serious oath you can make, right?" Grover nodded.

"And the brothers kept their word—no kids?" I raised my eyebrows in disbelief.

Grover's face darkened. "Seventeen years ago, Zeus fell off the wagon. There was this TV starlet with a big fluffy eighties hairdo—he just couldn't help himself. When their child was born, a little girl named Thalia... well, the River Styx is serious about promises. Zeus himself got off easy because he's immortal, but he brought a terrible fate on his daughter."

"But that isn't fair.' It wasn't the little girl's fault," Percy grabbed my hand as if he was afraid I was going to disappear.

Grover hesitated. "Percy, Cassie, children of the Big Three have powers greater than other half-bloods. They have a strong aura, a scent that attracts monsters. When Hades found out about the girl, he wasn't too happy about Zeus breaking his oath. Hades let the worst monsters out of Tartarus to torment Thalia. A satyr was assigned to be her keeper when she was twelve, but there was nothing he could do. He tried to escort her here with a couple of other half-bloods she'd befriended. They almost made it. They got all the way to the top of that hill."

He pointed across the valley, to the pine tree where I'd fought the minotaur. "All three Kindly Ones were after them, along with a horde of hellhounds. They were about to be overrun when Thalia told her satyr to take the other two half-bloods to safety while she held off the monsters. She was wounded and tired, and she didn't want to live like a hunted animal. The satyr didn't want to leave her, but he couldn't change her mind, and he had to protect the others. So Thalia made her final stand alone, at the top of that hill. As she died, Zeus took pity on her. He turned her into that pine tree. Her spirit still helps protect the borders of the valley. That's why the hill is called Half-Blood Hill."

I stared at the pine in the distance. The story was one of the saddest things I had ever heard. A girl my age had sacrificed herself to save her friends. She had faced a whole army of monsters. How could her dad have let that just happen to her? If that's what demigods were up against I didn't know if I could live up to it.

I also wondered if I'd been a little bit braver like Thalia, maybe I could have saved my mother.

"Grover," Percy said carefully, "have heroes really gone on quests to the Underworld?"

"Sometimes," he said. "Orpheus. Hercules. Houdini." "Houdini?!" I questioned in surprise. Grover shrugged as if to say, yeah I guess.

"And have they ever returned somebody from the dead?" Percy pushed. "No. Never. Orpheus came close... Percy, you're not seriously thinking—"

"No," Percy quickly responded, "I was just wondering." I gave him a bewildered look. Was he suggesting that we go to the Underworld!?

"So... a satyr is always assigned to guard a demigod?" Percy continued ignoring my stare. Grover studied us warily. What a surprise Percy's very obvious lie, hadn't persuaded him that he'd really dropped the Underworld idea. Shocker.

"Not always. We go undercover to a lot of schools. We try to sniff out the half-bloods who have the makings of great heroes. If we find one with a very strong aura, like a child of the Big Three, we alert Chiron. He tries to keep an eye on them since they could cause really huge problems."

Whoa, wait for a second, he alerted Chiron because our dad might be one of the Big Three? With the story of Thalia still fresh in my mind I was in disbelief that our luck could be that bad.

"And you found us. Chiron said you thought we might be something special," Percy said dryly as he started to piece it together as well.

Grover looked as if we'd just led him into a trap. "I didn't... Oh, listen, don't think like that. If you were—you know—you'd never ever be allowed a quest, and I'd never get my license. You're probably a child of Hermes. Or maybe even one of the minor gods, like Nemesis, the god of revenge. Don't worry, okay?"

Heck no, I was worried. I just wasn't sure if he was trying to reassure himself or us.

That night after dinner, there was a lot more excitement than usual.

At last, it was time for capture the flag. I was trying the psych myself up for the game and ignore the nervous butterflies in my stomach.

When the plates were cleared away, the conch horn sounded and we all stood at our tables. Campers yelled and cheered as Annabeth and two of her siblings ran into the pavilion carrying a silk banner. It was about ten feet long, glistening gray, with a painting of a barn owl above an olive tree. From the opposite side of the pavilion, Clarisse, Markus and their siblings ran in screaming and going wild, carrying another banner, of identical size, but gaudy red, painted with a bloody spear and a boar's head.

Percy turned to Luke and yelled over the noise, "Those are the flags?"

"Yeah." "Ares and Athena always lead the teams?" "Not always," he said. "But often."

Made sense, god of war vs. goddess of war.

"So, if another cabin captures one, what do you do—repaint the flag?" I questioned

He grinned. "You'll see. First, we have to get one."

"Whose side are we on?" He gave Percy and me a sly look as if he knew something we didn't. The scar on his face made him look almost evil in the torchlight. He was a lot more intimidating in the dark I realized. "We've made a temporary alliance with Athena. Tonight, we get the flag from Ares. And you are going to help."

The teams were announced. Athena had made an alliance with Apollo and Hermes, the two biggest cabins. Apparently, privileges had been traded—shower times, chore schedules, the best slots for activities—in order to win support.

Ares had allied themselves with everybody else: Dionysus, Demeter, Aphrodite, and Hephaestus. I wish I'd paid more attention, instead of being in my head all the time but, from what I'd seen, Dionysus's kids were actually good athletes, but there were only two of them.

Demeter's kids had the edge with nature skills and outdoor stuff but they weren't very aggressive. Aphrodite's sons and daughters I wasn't too worried about it. They mostly sat out every activity and checked their reflections in the lake and did their hair and gossiped. Hephaestus's kids weren't pretty, and there were only four of them, but they were big and burly from working in the metal shop all day. They might be a problem. That, of course, left Ares'scabin: a dozen of the biggest, ugliest, meanest kids on Long Island, or anywhere else on the planet. Markus caught my eye in the chaos of his siblings jumping around and gave me an unimpressed look.

Markus's offer to help me get the rundown on camp had started a couple of days ago. He first gave me a basic lesson on camp dynamics and a spear lesson. It was going great, if great is getting my ass kicked.

"I heard Chiron gave you Stormbreaker?" He said to me on our first day in the ring. He gestured to the bracelet cuff on my wrist.

"Um, yeah I guess," I mumbled.

"Do you know how to activate it?" He questioned as he scanned over the spears on the rack and began weighing them in his hand to find a good fit.

"Activate? You mean turn it from a snake to the spear thingy?" I responded. He turned to me having finally found a good enough spear. He frowned at me and rolled his eyes as if I couldn't be serious. "First of all, it's not a snake it's a sea serpent, supposedly the one that Perseus killed on his second quest trying to save the princess, Andromeda, Second if I'm gonna teach you how to fight with weapons I need you to be serious."

I nodded embarrassed. He rolled his eyes again and sauntered over to me grabbing my wrist. He was so close I could see all of the faint scars on his hands. I squirmed, uncomfortable with him in my personal space. He clicked the eyes of the serpent and it began to loosen and uncoil itself down my wrist. Eventually straightening and lengthening into a 5ft bronze spear with silver detailing twining up the shaft just like before in the museum.

It was surprisingly light and comfortable in my hand, but I could tell the tip was sharp enough to do some serious damage.

Markus looked a little awed himself but quickly shook it off and was back to his scowling self. He began by showing me a few motions and explained how spears differ from other weapons. "It's like dancing, you put your whole body into it." It was all going really well until we actually began to duel. Whenever I left my flank open he would smack me with the flat of the spear tip. I let my guard down, whap! I swing with only my arm, whap! By the end of our session, I was bruised and sore all over.

As I lay on my back in the center of the ring, sweat soaking my shirt, I groaned, "Aren't boys not supposed to hit girls?" Markus signed and walked over to me. In a rare display of vulnerability he leaned over my face to make eye contact, "Look I know I'm going hard on you but I'm not sorry. Monsters won't be sorry or hesitate, they will kill you. You're a demigod it's time to start acting like it."

Chiron hammered his hoof on the marble, bringing me back to the present.

"Heroes!" he announced. "You know the rules. The creek is the boundary line. The entire forest is fair game. All magic items are allowed. The banner must be prominently displayed, and have no more than two guards. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged. No killing or maiming is allowed. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. Arm yourselves!"

He spread his hands, and the tables were suddenly covered with equipment: helmets, bronze swords, spears, and oxhide shields coated in metal.

"Whoa," Percy said. "We're really supposed to use these?"

Luke looked at him as if he were crazy. "Unless you want to get skewered by your friends in cabin five. Here—Chiron thought these would fit you two. You'll be on border patrol."

Percy's shield was the size of an NBA backboard, with a big caduceus in the middle, and looked like it weighed about a million pounds. I was given a slightly smaller shield but it was still heavy as hell. I hoped nobody seriously expected me to run fast.

Our helmets, like all the helmets on Athena's side, had a blue horsehair plume on top. Ares and their allies had red plumes. Luke moved to hand me a sword that I knew wouldn't feel right in my hands. I looked down at my wrist, the serpent's maw looking like it would devour my middle finger as it wound around my arm. Here goes nothing I thought as I clicked the serpent's eye and it came alive to form the spear. It activated so suddenly that I had to quickly move it out of the way so I didn't skewer Luke.

"Whoa, there," he said surprised, "Cassie did not come to play today!" His loud voice attracted the attention of nearly everyone around us. Especially the Ares kids who now looked at me like a personal challenge. Markus was as always frowning and staring but this time not at me but at Luke. Still, my face burned at the attention as Percy helped me put on the rest of my gear.

Annabeth yelled, "Blue team, forward!"

We cheered and shook our swords and followed her down the path to the south woods. The red team yelled taunts at us as they headed off toward the north.

Percy managed to catch up with Annabeth, but I was struggling a bit on account of my microscopic height.

"So much for sticking together, huh?" Luke said.

I hadn't noticed he had slowed down to jog next to me.

"Huh," I said loudly. He motioned ahead to Percy jogging alongside Annabeth. "Ummm yeah, I guess," I said noncommittally, "I mean he should make friends other than me and Grover." He smiled at me in a pitying way like he thought I was lying to myself. Like he could see something I couldn't. That agitated me a little bit. "Sure. Anyways don't worry about border patrol. It's an easy job and pretty boring, you and Percy won't have to do much this game. I'll see if next time after a bit more training we can get you a little more in on the action."

My agitation eased a bit at that. Who was I kidding Luke was just trying to look out for me. Help out the new girl who clearly didn't know what she was doing. Still, I picked up the pace to catch up with Percy and Annabeth, leaving Luke behind.

"So what's the plan?" I heard Percy ask her as I reached them, "Got any magic items you can loan me?" Annabeth's hand drifted toward her pocket as if she were afraid he'd stolen something.

"Just watch Clarisse's spear," she said. "You don't want that thing touching you. Otherwise, don't worry. We'll take the banner from Ares. Has Luke given you your job?"

"Border patrol, whatever that means," I puffed out already out of breath. My helmet was too big and falling over my eyes as I ran. I had to keep reaching up to fix it.

"It's easy. Stand by the creek, keep the reds away. Leave the rest to me. Athena always has a plan."

She pushed ahead, leaving us in the dust.

"Okay," Percy mumbled sarcastically. "Glad you wanted us on your team." He turned to me, "Stay close Cassie." And then he jogged faster into the woods.

I grumbled to myself still out of breath, "kinda hard to do that when you're running away." I struggled to catch up with him. It was a warm, sticky night. The woods were dark, with fireflies popping in and out of view. Annabeth stationed us next to a little creek that gurgled over some rocks, then she and the rest of the team scattered into the trees.

Standing there with just Percy, with my big blue-feathered helmet and my huge shield, I felt incredibly ridiculous. I barely know how to use this big ass spear, and the shield I was carrying was weighing down my arm. How was I supposed to do this?

"There was no way anybody would actually attack us, would they? I mean, Olympus had to have liability issues, right?" Percy said. I knew it was supposed to be a joke but I could hear the tinge of nervousness in his voice.

"Awwww, are you scared Percy?" I teased even though I had to set down my spear and wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans.

He scowled at me and ignored me, turned back to watching the woods. Far away, the conch horn blew. I heard whoops and yells in the woods, the clanking of metal, and kids fighting. A blue-plumed ally from Apollo raced past me like a deer, leaped through the creek, and disappeared into enemy territory.

Great, I thought. I'll miss all the fun, as usual.

Then I heard a sound that sent a chill up my spine, a low canine growl, somewhere close by.

"Percy..." I started. He didn't answer me but he must have heard it too because his eyes immediately began to dart around. "Get behind me," he said and shifted in front of me.

I raised my shield instinctively and quickly snatched my spear from the ground; I had this feeling that something was stalking us. Then the growling stopped. I felt the presence retreating.

On the other side of the creek, the underbrush exploded. Four Ares warriors came yelling and screaming out of the dark. "Cream the punks!" Clarisse screamed.

Her ugly pig eyes glared through the slits of her helmet. She brandished a five-foot-long spear similar to mine, but its barbed metal tip was flickering with red light. The way she held it while she ran to us, confident and sure there was no doubt she could use it way better than me. Her siblings had only the standard-issue bronze swords—not that that made me feel any better.

They charged across the stream and there was no help in sight. We could run. Or we could defend against the Ares cabin. We've done it before. Quickly Percy and I looked at each other knowingly. Anticipation tingled in my arms and legs. Maybe we could do this, maybe this would be like the scraps and fights we got into at school that we always managed to survive.

We both sidestepped the first kid's swing, similar to the days before. Percy going right and me going left, but these guys were not as stupid as the Minotaur.

Three of them broke off and managed to surround me, separating me from Percy and Clarisse. Who thrust at my brother with her spear. His shield deflected the point, but his body stiffened, jerking a bit as his muscles visibly constricted. He gave a loud shout.

Electricity, I realized as the air around us burned. Her stupid spear was electric.

I wanted to help Percy but the kids around me seemed not too keen to let me. My confidence quickly dissipated as we were separated. Another Ares guy slammed me in the chest with the butt of his sword and knocked the wind right out of me. I doubled over and wheezed out a couple of curses that would make a nun blush, searching the three faces around me, all of them sneering kids looking delighted to beat the absolute shit out of me. Markus's stoic face was not among them. Thank god. I don't think I could handle that guy's attitude right now.

They could've really given me a beatdown, but they were too busy laughing at Percy and Clarisse. This was quickly spiraling out of control.

"I think I'll give him a haircut," Clarisse said. "What do you say, boys?"

I turned to watch as Percy managed to get to his feet and raise his sword, but Clarisse slammed it aside with her spear as sparks flew in the night. I grabbed my spear and scooted backward trying to get my bearings while the three Ares kids were distracted.

"Oh, wow," Clarisse said. "I'm scared of this guy. Really scared."

"The flag is that way," I told her. I wanted to sound intimidating, but I was afraid it didn't come out that way. She barely gave me a glance. Her entire focus was on Percy trying to lift his sword.

"Yeah," one of her siblings said. "But see, we don't care about the flag. We care about the two kids who made our cabin look stupid." The three begin to circle me backing me up farther away from Percy.

I finally got to my feet with my spear clutched in one hand and my shield discarded somewhere in the distance. "You didn't need us to make your cabin look stupid," I told them, "Your entire existence made that possible." It probably wasn't the smartest thing to say but, I didn't care I was pissed off.

The guy on my left, enraged raised his sword and swung down toward me in a mighty arc. I raised my spear horizontally with both hands blocking his strike. We had reached the edge of the creek, water lapping at my feet and soaking the cuffs of my pants. I looked down at his wide stance and in a desperate thought, moved my leg behind his and pulled. Throwing him off balance, he lost control and fell back into the shallow bank of the creek.

The other two of them looked down at him shocked. Allowing me a little time to look over at Percy and Clarisse dueling farther down the bank of the creek. Percy backed up toward the water, trying to raise and use his shield, but Clarisse was too fast. Her spear stuck him straight in the ribs. If he hadn't been wearing an armored breastplate, he would've been shish-ke-babbed. But I could tell by his face that the electrical shock was definitely doing some damage.

I started to move towards him down the bank of the creek but I all of a sudden felt a burning pain done the length of my shoulder blade to my elbow. One of the Ares kids snuck up behind me and slashed his sword across my arm, leaving a good- size cut. I fell forward, splashing into the warm water of the creek. At the last second, I was able to catch myself from slamming face-first into the rocky bed of the creek.

I stared at my dirty reflection in the water as it changed from a clear dark blue to a deep crimson as the water washed the blood from my wound into the creek.

Seeing my own blood made me dizzy—warm and cold at the same time. "N-no maiming," I whimpered.

"Oops," the guy said. "Guess I lost my dessert privilege."

He shoved me down with his boot and I splashed around trying to get away. They all laughed.

"Awww, look she's gonna cry," one of them mocked, "are you gonna cry?" Let's be honest, I was gonna cry.

Not because I was scared but because I was frustrated. Ever since we got here everything has been trying to kill us. All because of a dad we never knew. My entire life had been dictated by a guy who never even came to see me. Who maybe doesn't even know I exist? The thought filled me with such anger that I could barely even hear the Ares kids bellowing laughter. Who cares, I figured as soon as they were through being amused, I would die. But then something happened.

The water seemed to wake up my senses as if I'd just had a bag of my mom's double-espresso jelly beans. It also fueled my anger.

I looked over at Percy and he seemed to feel what I was feeling. We locked eyes as Percy began treading water to get to me. Clarisse and her cabinmates finally came fully into the creek to finish us off, as Percy reached me and helped me up. We stood together to meet them. We knew what to do and I wasn't afraid anymore.

Percy moved forward and swung the flat of his sword against the first guy's head and knocked his helmet clean off. He hit him so hard I could see his eyes vibrating as he crumpled into the water. Ugly Number Two and Ugly Number Three came at me. But I had retrieved my spear from the water and slammed the shaft of it into one's face. Next, I turned to use the blade to shear off the other guy's horsehair plume. Both of them backed up quick.

But Clarisse kept coming, the point of her spear crackling with energy. As soon as she thrust, Percy caught the shaft between the edge of his shield and sword and snapped it like a twig.

"Ah!" she screamed. "You idiot! You corpse-breath worm!"

She probably would've said worse, but Percy smacked her between the eyes with his sword butt and sent her stumbling backward out of the creek.

Then I heard yelling, and elated screams, and I saw Luke racing toward the boundary line with the red team's banner lifted high. He was flanked by a couple of Hermes kids covering his retreat, and a few Apollos behind them, fighting off the Hephaestus kids.

The Ares folks got up, and Clarisse muttered a dazed curse. "A trick!" she shouted. "It was a trick."

They staggered after Luke, but it was too late. Everybody converged on the creek as Luke ran across into friendly territory. Our side exploded into cheers. The red banner shimmered and turned to silver. The boar and spear were replaced with a huge caduceus, the symbol of cabin eleven. Everybody on the blue team picked up Luke and started carrying him around on their shoulders. Chiron cantered out from the woods and blew the conch horn.

The game was over. We'd won.

My heart was still pumping and blood was still roaring in my ears from the adrenalin still raging through my body. Unable to understand that it was over. I was startled when Annabeth's voice, right next to us in the creek, said, "Not bad, heroes."

I saw Percy look around, but she wasn't there.

"Where the heck did you learn to fight like that?" she asked. The air shimmered, and she materialized, holding a Yankees baseball cap as if she'd just taken it off her head.

I looked over at Percy cause I was honestly still confused and a bit dazed. Was she just invisible? I mean it shouldn't have fazed me but still.

"You set us up," Percy gritted out. "You put us here because you knew Clarisse would come after us, while you sent Luke around the flank. You had it all figured out."

Annabeth shrugged. "I told you. Athena always has a plan."

"A plan to get us pulverized," I muttered warily.

"I came as fast as I could. I was about to jump in, but..." She shrugged. "You didn't need help."

Then she noticed Percy's wounded arm. Her brows were drawn together and she frowned. "How did you do that?"

I noted her reaction and turned to look at his arm. What I was expecting was a gnarly-looking half-burned cut, but my eyes widened at what I saw instead.

"Sword cut," he said distractedly looking at the ongoing cheering and commotion of our fellow teammates. "What do you think?"

"No. It was a sword cut. Look at it."

He similarly to us looked down and was shocked to see the blood was gone. Where the huge cut had been, there was a long white scratch, and even that was fading. As we all watched, it turned into a small scar and disappeared.

"I—I don't get it," Percy said.

I was barely able to form the thought before I dropped my spear and scrabbled to try and look at my shoulder and the corresponding cut. It was a strain to crane my neck but I eventually saw the wound. Or I would have if it was still there. Similar to my brother all the blood was gone and only a faint slightly larger scar was left on my shoulder blade. What the hell?

Annabeth was thinking hard. I could almost see the gears turning. She looked down at Percy's feet, then at Clarisse's broken spear, and said, "Step out of the water, Percy."

"What—"

"Just do it."

Percy looked at me cautiously before treading closer to the bank and finally stepping out of the water. I followed him but stopped right at the bank staying where the water still lapped at my feet.

As he came out of the creek it was like all his energy immediately left. He almost fell over, but Annabeth and I rushed out of the water to steady him. But it's kinda hard to steady someone when your strength immediately leaves you as well.

I ended up having to lean on Percy and Annabeth so I didn't face plant on the gravel. I suddenly felt like I needed to take several naps.

"Oh, Styx," Annabeth cursed. "This is not good. I didn't want... I assumed it would be Zeus..."

I looked up at her through droopy eyelids. She didn't look like a confident kick-your-ass Annabeth anymore. Her brown skin had got ashen.

Before I could ask what she meant, I heard that canine growl again, but much closer than before. A howl ripped through the forest. Percy still a bit sluggish gripped my arm protectively, eyes frantically searching for the source of the noise like many of the campers still on alert.

The campers' cheering died instantly. Chiron shouted something in Ancient Greek, which I would realize, later, I had understood perfectly: "Stand ready! My bow!" Annabeth drew her sword.

There on the rocks just above us was a black hound the size of a rhino, with lava-red eyes and fangs like daggers.

It was looking straight at us,

Nobody moved except Annabeth, who yelled, "Percy, Cassie, run!"

She tried to step in front of us, but the hound was too fast. It leaped over her—an enormous shadow with teeth—and just as it was about to collide with us everything seemed to move in slow motion as Percy pushed me to the side, out of the way.

I could barely open my mouth to scream, as I flew backward in the water I saw its razor-sharp claws ripping through my brother's armor. There was a cascade of thwacking sounds like forty pieces of paper being ripped one after the other. From the hound's neck sprouted a cluster of arrows. The monster fell dead at my brother's feet. Time resumed its normal pace.

Instantly on my feet, I rushed over to Percy, at this point too shell-shocked by the night's events to even cry. I aggressively kicked the hide of the hellhound aside as I ran past its corpse to crash so hard on my knees by my brother that my teeth shook.

"Percy, Percy!," I screamed trying to get a better look at him. By some miracle, Percy was still alive. I didn't want to look underneath the ruins of his shredded armor. I could see the red color staining all over his shirt and I knew he was badly cut. Another second, and the monster would've turned him into a hundred pounds of delicatessen meat.

Chiron trotted up next to us, a bow in his hand, his face grim.

"Di immortales!" Annabeth said. "That's a hellhound from the Fields of Punishment. They don't... they're not supposed to..." "Someone summoned it," Chiron said. "Someone inside the camp."

I looked back over at the bank to see a gruff-looking Luke come over, the banner in his hand forgotten, his moment of glory gone. As I looked at the shocked and fearful faces of the campers around us I caught a glimpse of Markus. His face was shadowed by this red-plumed war helmet but I could guess that he also had a grim look on his face at the scene before him. I noted that he had a bow strung in his hand.

In the distance, Clarisse yelled, "It's all Percy's fault! Percy summoned it!"

I shot her the nastiest look to ever be thrown. The hell he did, I wanted to scream.

"Be quiet, child," Chiron told her. We watched the body of the hellhound melt into shadow, soaking into the ground until it disappeared. "You're wounded," Annabeth breathed out. "Quick, Cassie, get him in the water." "I'm okay," he said still a bit stunned.

"No, you're not," she said. "Chiron, watch this."

I think I was understanding what Annabeth was trying to get at. I gripped Percy's arm to help him up and said, "It's okay Percy just trust us." He nodded and I helped him stumble back into the creek, the whole camp gathering around us.

Instantly, I felt better. No more fatigue and I stopped shaking from the fear. I felt strength and a sort of calm pulse through me. I looked down and could see the cuts on Percy's chest closing up. I stepped away as he straightened up feeling the same surge of energy that I did. Some of the campers gasped.

"Look, I—I don't know why," Percy said, trying to apologize. "I'm sorry...."

But they weren't watching his wounds heal. They were staring at something above his head.

"Percy," Annabeth said, pointing. "Um..." By the time Percy and I looked up, the sign was already fading, but I could still make out the hologram of green light, spinning and gleaming. A three-tipped spear: a trident. But it was clearly only above his head.

"Your father," Annabeth murmured. "This is really not good."

"It is determined," Chiron announced. He stepped forward glancing my way in pity.

All around me, campers started kneeling, even the Ares cabin, though they didn't look happy about it. Markus's eyes felt like a burn on my skin as he lowered his head along with them.

"Our father?" I asked, completely bewildered. Still not getting it.

"Poseidon," said Chiron. "Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God."

And that's when I finally understood what had happened.

My dad didn't claim me.

to be continued...

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jessybarnes · 2 years

Text

Shot Through the Heart

Pairing: Clint "Hawkeye" Barton x Reader

Rating: Mature

Tags: Angst, fluff, aliens, explosions, mentions of fear, broken wrist, slight description of gore, language, kissing, implied sex, and implied feelings.

Word Count: 1,237

Beta and Title Card: Yours Truly

The whole building shook as another explosion sounded in the distance. Out of all the days for this to happen, why...why did it have to be the day your biggest report was due? Everyone on your floor had already evacuated, fearing for their lives as the Avengers worked to save the city from the aliens.

Aliens.

Something you never thought would cross your mind. It felt like you were stuck in a Men in Black movie and soon you'd be approached by Will Smith's character being made to forget everything you'd already seen.

Bullets shattered the large row of glass windows to your office floor pulling you back to reality and you moved to duck under a desk. The one day you decided to wear a pencil skirt and high heels, and you had to tactically hide from a deadly species?

Fucking awesome.

The sarcastic voice inside your head stopped suddenly, raw fear making your blood run cold. One of the monsters was stomping its way through the room, and it could smell you.

The awful sounds it made and the scrape of its clawed feet crept closer and closer to where you hid. Out of all the ways to die this was not even remotely what you'd envisioned.

It stopped in front of the big oak desk, sniffing and snarling and you contemplated trying to fight it. Heels or no heels you weren't going down without at least trying to get away.

The desk was ripped from the floor, crashing somewhere behind you, and you took the opportunity to slip your left heel off and stab the creature in its abdomen. A loud pained screech pierced your ears and you backed yourself haphazardly away towards the opposite wall.

The alien trained its eyes on you, drool dripping from the sides of its mouth where rows of sharp white teeth displaying its hunger. It ran toward you, a scream falling from your lips as you waited for the inevitable.

Before you could blink, an arrow shot right through the creature's left eye, its body sinking to the floor like an anchor. Your chest heaved, tears of relief pooling in your eyes as one of the Avengers fell to his knees in front of you.

"Shh. It's alright...it's okay. You're safe now. I've got you."

Even through your teary vision, you knew who he was. He was even more beautiful up close. Short brown hair and the bluest eyes you'd ever seen stared down at you, filled with concern.

You couldn't speak, the shock made your body shake uncontrollably.

"Can I take your jacket off, honey? Just wanna see if you're hurt. That's all." A small nod was all he needed.

His hands were gentle despite his well-defined arms. Those arms. The ones you'd only seen on TV. The ones you'd imagined touching you, holding you, pinning you beneath him as he made you come apart over and over.

Oh, you were so fucked.

He must have finished his assessment because now his right hand was pressed to his ear, his voice low as he spoke to an empty room...well, except for you two.

"Cap? Cap, can you hear me?"

His tongue flicked over his bottom lip and you shivered. A hot curl of arousal began to ignite like wildfire. Damn, this man.

"Got a female on the forty-second floor. She's got a few scrapes and possibly a broken wrist. You gonna be alright without me for a few minutes?"

After a few more seconds he turned his attention back to you. "Can you stand, darlin'?"

You let out a shaky breath, "I-I think so…"

He helped you stand and steadied you with his hands splayed along your sides. "What's your name?"

"Y/N...I um...th-thank you for uh...for saving me, mister Hawkeye sir."

He snorted and shook his head. "Haven't been called sir in a long time. No need for formalities, sweetheart. Call me Clint. And you're welcome for saving you. Couldn't let that thing slay a pretty lady such as you."

Your breath hitched as you snapped your head up to meet his eyes. "Y-You...you think...me?"

Way to go, Y/N. Your internal conscience facepalmed at your lack of response. That's definitely the way to win an Avenger over.

He smiled and brushed his fingers against your cheek.

"You're gorgeous, honey. S'not every day a pretty girl takes my breath away."

Blue eyes passed over your features and settled their gaze on your parted lips. "I usually don't do this," his voice was breathy and it made you weak at the thought of how he'd sound in a more intimate setting. "but I really wanna kiss you right now."

Somehow your brain was coherent enough to form a proper sentence. "So do it."

His lips pressed against yours, tentatively at first, but soon became more heated. Taking care not to hurt your wrist, he slowly backed you into the nearest wall. His fingers curled around your waist, his toned body becoming flush with yours while his mouth trailed kisses along your jaw.

"So pretty…"

The feeling of his hot breath against your skin was intoxicating, your skin burned everywhere he touched you.

"Clint...please."

His teeth nipped at your neck before he soothed the fresh mark with his tongue. "I know, sweetheart...I got you."

As much as you both wanted to, you knew now wasn't the time to take this makeout session any further. Reluctantly, Clint pulled away and rested his forehead against yours.

"I gotta finish the fight, honey. Will you wait for me? I can have Stark bring one of his suits to take you to the tower. They'll treat your wounds there."

Your mind was still reeling from his kiss, so it took you a moment to realize he'd asked you a question.

"You with me, love? If you don't wa-"

You shut him up with another kiss, your fingers sliding through his short hair. "Yes. Yes, call Stark."

He chuckled, his eyes not leaving yours as he once again raised a hand to his ear.

"Tony, hey, you there?"

You were close enough to hear his immediate response.

"Yeah, Katniss. You need backup or somethin'?"

Clint rolled his eyes. "No, but I do need a favor."

Tony was quick to reply. "Robin Hood is asking me for a favor? Oh, this oughta be good."

"I need one of your suits to bring the woman I saved back to the tower for medical treatment."

Tony whistled, "damn Barton! Thought you were killing aliens not plannin' a date."

Steve chimed in before he could respond. "Language!"

"Seriously, Tony? Just lend me a suit and I'll buy you a beer or something later."

Tony sighed, "oh, alright fine. But I want a whole case of beer and some tacos. Oh! And some margarita mix."

Clint caressed your face gingerly as you both waited for your ride. "Everything will be okay, honey. Don't worry about me. These creatures are nothin'."

You kissed him sweetly, "promise you'll meet me later?"

The sound of metal landing nearby caused you both to look up.

"I'm here to escort you back to headquarters, miss."

Clint led you to the robot and watched as it carefully lifted you into its arms.

"Clint, promise me."

He pressed a parting kiss to your lips and smiled softly as you were carried away.

"I promise."

#clint barton #clint barton x reader #clint barton x you #clint barton x y/n #hawkeye #hawkeye x reader #hawkeye x you #hawkeye x y/n #tony stark #iron man #steve rogers #steven grant rogers #captain steve rogers #captain america #avengers #the avengers #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction

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heirsofdiscord · 8 months

Text

Glass

FFXIVwrite prompt #11: Once Bitten, Twice Shy | 1890 words A Beaten Dog May Cower Before a Friendly Hand

Yuri'a Nelhah was an unknown archer in the days of the Calamity. Newly joined to Minfilia's Path of the Twelve, he wasn’t seasoned enough to be trusted with the greater threats to Eorzea. But there was still more than enough for him to do as the Red moon Dalamud grew close. Beasts and Garlean soldiers invaded in equal measure. There were other adventurers both in and out of the Path there holding the line with him but in terms of camaraderie he was alone in a crowd.

Adventurers don't make it far without people to lean on and Yuri'a was no different. He had a group still. At least he thought so. Frustrations with his Thaumaturgy - newly learned - had made him irritable and snappish. He had to acknowledge that he'd hurt his dear friends and agreed to be on probation. He swore not to practice Thaumaturgy again.

Just a little longer, a little patience. He’d loved his friends and they loved him. Time and repentance would heal those wounds. He would just have to wait.

He'd spotted two of his friends during the mess at Ul'dah. Soldiers, goobue, monsters. He thought maybe they'd want an extra pair of hands. Sometimes he thought maybe that had been his mistake but no matter how long he turned it over in his head that didn’t seem right. It was an honest question. They could have said no, they’d be fine. They could of said a half dozen things besides what they did.

Yuri'a was a stalker. Or he was trying to get around the probation. Or he was being too cruel to the others not present. Or a half dozen other accusations Yuri'a didn't understand. It seemed the more he tried to explain the worse it got and then their friend - beloved and trusted friend - placed their hands on his chest and pushed him away forever.

Something snapped.

Yuri'a pushed himself up from the ground. He looked up to see rapidly approaching garlean soldiers. He looked back only to see his friends retreating. They must have know Yuri'a would be okay without them ─ maybe he just chose to think that ─ but his bow was broken and would pull no more arrows. Bullets of the soldier’s gunblades whipped past his head and he’d no choice. He pulled the wand at his side and invoked the laws of a Thaumaturge.

What point was there not to now?

He'd managed to kill them but not without being bloodied and bruised. It had hurt to move but he couldn’t get the grip on his scepter to loosen. His heart thundered in his chest and he truly did not know whether his face was wet with blood, sweat or tears. All three like as not. Then the world around him brightened intones of red. He brought his hollow gaze up to the sky.

Meteors were falling from Dalamud. Where they fell the aether swelled. Yuri’a felt his body fall though his feet were rooted to the floor. Their impact would change the very nature of the entire continent. Spires of corrupted crystal, a land in eternal sudden winter. He felt the snap of his bow on his back, trapped between his body and the floor. He had not moved. The world was on fire and Yuri'a had been burning ever since. His rejection, which should have been easily to rise from as its like before, was forever etched into the back of his eyes.

He smelled smoke.

Great stained glass windows. Yorick had seen them in a few places. The holy buildings of Ishgard and Lyhe Ghiah castle in Il Mheg to name a few. Though they weren’t as grand, his favorites were in Carline Canopy. He’d spent more than enough time staring at them but he only recently realized they extended up not just the wall but over the ceiling. If one made an afternoon of it and just smashed all of them up, that's what had happened to Yuri'a. All that he had been, glittering shards scattered across the floor in deadly points and edges. Then if you tried piecing them together again, that was Yorick. Unless you were a glasswork artisan you just weren't going to get it right again. He wasn't an artist.

He'd died that day. It was a fanciful and frankly melodramatic way of thinking but when Yorick mourned he did it hard. He did not stop. And for Yuri'a, he knew one else was going to. Nobody remembered his actual shape, only that which they had wanted to see. Only he who could feel it in all the ways he was wrong would know. Yuri'a's friends had built him up to be a thing of hope. When he died Yorick had held unto his convulsing body. It had been a violent rattling death and from his mouth spilled black ichor and shrieks the lights of which could fill nightmares. He could not leave the body so he carried it. Yuri'a had not been unburdened by despair but when those black waters came for him he'd thought to swim. Yorick, dragged under by the weight of his own corpse, just learned to became a creature of the abyss. He learned to breathe.

He could go on for days like this.

Yorick had thought for a time that he'd gotten better about it. But there were still one too many times where he was lost in that moment. An endless spiral of falling, the snap of his bow, the meteors, the smell of smoke. He’d try and find where it went wrong. Where it could have been fixed. But there were never any answers that made any sense to him. Nevertheless, he spun helplessly in that whirlpool until he exhausted himself with tears and the impending dehydration migraine.

He’d pretend he'd get a chance to yell at them. Like he'd even be able to articulate. Like they'd even care. More like - he realized one day thinking and and thinking and thinking about the words they'd said - they'd get mad at him for being burdened by what they thought best for themselves. They were allowed that, Yorick thought. Didn't mean he wasn't allowed to be hurt by it in turn.

No matter how well one composed themselves they would always end up stabbing into one another. People were full of sharp edges and soft spots, it was inevitable. There must have been a hundred different ways to have a misunderstanding. To hurt others. To be hurt. Yorick figured he must have discovered at least half which seemed to him to be more than most people. There must have been something especially wrong with him. Something that just made him not worth the effort of trying to understand. To forgive. To heal. He was always a little too mean, just like his mother who wore it like a badge of honor. But he also feared loss like of his father so he'd become strange. He’d lash out. He’d grip too dearly. But he tried so damn hard this time and it didn't even matter.

Was he a person or a monster? He’d begun to wonder by the way it always came to this. Yorick decided that if he was going to be treated like a monster no matter what he'd become the worst they’d ever seen. He’d close himself in his heart with the doors locked, never to hurt or be hurt again. Outsiders would be forced to watch his descent from the outside as he shuffled around in his decaying corpse like one of the undead. Revenge against those who’d bid him to live when he had never once been alive to begin with.

His arrow flew wide, hitting the very outside of the targe. Damned Lahabrea had made a mess of that plan. Not that it mattered in the end.

Yorick wasn't much for the outside so he'd dragged this target out from storage and just left it in the rising stone's backroom when the others were out. He’d likely be scolded for that but he didn’t really care.

He'd been in a daze when the Scions had rerecruited him after the dissolution of the Path of the Twelve. He’d kept his distance. No more friends. Just work. Strange work for a man who claimed to have no hope but he rather thought that made him better suited. He had nothing to gain and nothing to lose. An empty vessel to hold the hope of the world. Who better to risk their all? It wouldn't matter if he fell. It wouldn’t matter if he returned. It never did.

He had taken up his bow again after years. He was hit or miss with his aim. Was he that rusty or had he always been this shit? He couldn't remember. Didn't even understand why he was doing any of this. Was it because his mother taught him to shoot? Because it had been apart of him longer than it hadn't? Because he was a right stubborn ass and didn't like that it had been stolen from him?

Footsteps echoed and Yorick quickly wiped away the tears that he'd been let freely shedding from his eyes. They'd keep coming so long as the bow was in his hands so there wasn't a point in stopping them. Damned if he'd let anyone see him like that though.

The man who'd come turned out to be Montresor. He'd taken a look at the bow, the target, and Yorick and simply said pleasantly ",I didn't know you could shoot."

He wouldn't be one of the ones to scold him. Ever since he'd fished Yotsuyu out of her would-be death he'd become something of a troublemaker himself. The relationship between Yorick and him was a complicated one. He’d almost think the man thought of him as a friend but he got the distinct feeling it was more like he'd decided to adopt the local stray. Annoyingly charming but just patronizing enough that Yorick would still scratch him if he wasn’t careful.

"You've gone back to your book," Yorick countered. He refused to look at the man who had seated himself behind him.

Montie turned over his grimoire in his hands, smiling fondly. It was an arcanist's weapon of choice, specifically for Scholars in Montresor's case. He’d abandoned it in favor of a sword and shield for a time but slowly he'd come back to it.

"In the end, my reasons for straying were rather silly." Montresor said.

"Does it still hurt?" Yorick asked, knowing full damned well why Montresor had abandoned his book.

Sun setting over an airship landing. A knight's broken shield. Pooling blood. The smile that eternally haunted Montresor's face after he took a dying man's words a little too seriously. Montresor hesitated. He drew a finger down the spine of his book still remembering the helplessness clearly. "...yes."

Yorick had drawn another arrow. He was too cognizant of the man behind him though. Meteors danced over his vision. When he let the arrow loose he swore he could feel the bow snap in two. The arrow clipped the top of the target before hitting the wall. It clattered from surface to surface before rattling in the place it would still. Yorick covered his nose like it would stop the phantom stench of smoke.

"Yeah."

#FFXIVwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #FFXIV #CWwrit #CH: Yorick Nelhah #CH:W𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔬𝔯 𝔬𝔣 𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱♦ᴹᵒⁿᵗʳᵉˢᵒʳ♦.

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