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lisinfleur · 3 years

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Santa’s Roots

The request:

Author’s Notes | Some historians claim that Santa Claus’ figure was inspired by Odin. What if it was true? For a certain Modern Viking, it is! Inspired by Harbard’s interaction with young Ivar in the series. I hope you’ll like it! Universe | Vikings Pairing | Ivar x Reader Info | Modern AU, made for Patron’s Holiday Event Words | 1092 ⁑ Warnings: Religious re-readings, unconfirmed comparisons, and sources.

"Why do we have to make this stupid trip?"

Of course, he was annoyed. Even more, because he was planning a trip with Y/N to spend the Christian Christmas in a tropical country enjoying the heat; and now he was forced to drag his limp pained leg through the snow of the Santa Claus Village in Rovaniemi.

Yeah. Lapland.

In the fucking FREEZING FINLAND!

"It's Yule and Christmas and no matter how you look at it, Ivar, it's a family holiday and we'll spend it together."

He loved his beautiful mother, but sometimes that need she had for them to be all together all the time was suffocating. After growing older, he was starting to understand his father's constant trips and to wish Aslaug would do something like fulfilling Sigurd's emptiness and his lack of motherly attention.

But this time, not even Sigurd had escaped that torture. And for the first time, they were both grumpy and moody at the same time.

At least, Y/N had come with him. Sigurd's girl was waiting for him with her family at the beach they had planned to go to together and that trip had forced him to delay. Ubbe as well was grumpy: dating Björn's ex-wife, he saw his hopes to send Torvi's children with Björn that year going down the drain. After all, what kid would want to exchange Santa Claus' village for a trip to the boring Mediterranean with daddy's brand-new chick?

Hvitserk was the only one having fun along with Y/N and the children - the bastard was finding every source of food, candies, and delights through their ways, putting so many smiles on Y/N's face that Ivar was asking all the gods to get his brother fat at the end of that cursed trip. Or at least some good, long and intense diarrhea, so he would have something to laugh at in the middle of all that red, black, gold, and white mess.

"Sorry!" A gods damn dwarf?

Gnome?

Grinch... No. Elf! A gods damn elf stumbled on his crutch, almost taking Ivar's balance, forcing him to stop his already slow steps to straighten the damn titanium braces under the trousers with a loud grunt of anger.

Because of course, his day wasn't doomed enough. No. The pain of that cold shitty place wasn't enough. Nor the elves everywhere, nor the repetitive music, nor the children's noises, fake gift boxes, bells... Not even the irritant bells weren't enough! Someone had to fucking misplace his braces to get him left behind by his whole family...

Kinda his fault: Ivar had walked slower than them all the whole time, trying to get himself distant and leave clear he wasn't happy. Even Y/N had started walking with Hvitserk since his mood was so terrible that not even her was able to hold it this time. He couldn't blame them for avoiding his presence enough not to notice he had to stop...

But where were they after all?

They wouldn't just disappear like that in a matter of minutes.

Ivar had just lowered himself for a moment to straighten the braces... How come they had managed to disappear in the middle of that fucking colored place?

For a moment, Ivar's heart filled with a cold sensation that spread all over this spine. He searched his pockets. Of course, his cellphone hadn't a single bar of signal in that place. His blues ran around searching for his brothers, the noisy children, his mom, Y/N.

And then it was when he realized...

There was no one to be seen.

The noisy children had gone. The elves were gone... Everything was, all of a sudden, silent, except for those bells.

With his crutch, Ivar walked around some steps, trying not to get lost in whatever the fuck was happening around him. But with a few steps forward, as if everything wasn't strange enough, a thick fog started to move around his legs, covering the place, flying ghostly through the gift boxes and colored trees.

Ivar felt the urge to get the heck out of that place. With some effort, he started walking at a quicker pace not observing when the decorations around him started changing from the usual plastic balls and ribbons to colored flowers, painted pine cones, straw animals... His eyes betrayed him, but his ears weren't failing: the bells were becoming higher. And higher...

"I don't know what kind of stupid prank is this! But I don't like it! I didn't pay for this package! I want this to stop right now!" he yelled.

Just to almost lose his balance once again when a horse exhaled behind his back, forcing him to turn around in a quick movement that cost him a grunt of pain, bending Ivar's body over itself when his hand touched the knee of his right leg. The braces had made a loud sound indicating it was a forced movement and now his knee was horribly aching once again.

However, the pain was something usual for him. Unusual was to see Santa Claus not dressed in the traditional red clothes... Unusual was to watch the old man coming down from a horse... Wait. How many legs did that fucking horse have?

And how the fuck did he have a horse? Shouldn't it be reindeers?

And a sled?

"What in..." Ivar started, swallowing dry and lifting his face to see the man in front of him was smiling.

A visible and open smile in the middle of the big and voluminous white beard covering his jaw and cascading down to his belly.

"Hello, Ivar," the man said with a surprisingly cozy voice, causing Ivar's face to twist in a frown of pure surprise, full of wrinkles on his forehead that earned one of the usual laughs from the white-bearded man.

"What the heck?" Ivar said, straightening himself even with pain on his leg. "Who told you my name? And why the fuck are we alone in this place?"

The man continued calm and smiley despite Ivar's clear annoyance.

"I know many names, boy. And I know you, since you were, in fact, a boy," the man said, looking down to Ivar's legs. "They still ache a lot, I can see."

Ivar's frown gained two more wrinkles on his forehead.

"What? Where do you know me? Who are you, man?" he asked, fully annoyed by what he was sure was a ridiculous prank his mother had paid for him to fall on, in the hope he would, somehow, like that trip into the middle of the freezing nowhere.

But the man just laughed once again, touching Ivar with a gentle pat that soon became a heavy hand weighing on Ivar's shoulder, forcing his whole attention to detail he wasn't able to notice before but now was clear like crystal in front of his eyes.

That man... That strange Santa Claus...

He clearly didn't have one of his eyes.

Ivar's blues were somehow attracted into the emptiness of that missing eye. And he swore he could hear the bells stopping, and crows cawing. The fog became stronger, but Ivar couldn't stop looking at that empty hole on that man's face until something formed into the dark.

Something that made Ivar's blues large when the voice of that man sounded once again, rumbling into Ivar's chest like a clap of thunder.

"I know everyone that was and everyone that will be. I'm the one who was and remains. And after you're gone, I'll still be here, until the wolf comes to swallow me whole. But before you go, I can still grant you a gift, son. Let us say you were good this year," the old man joked.

His words filling Ivar's ears while his eyes were locked at the image into that man's empty eye-hole.

"Yggdrasil..." Ivar mumbled.

And his eyes blinked, seeing the whole man once again in front of him, smiling.

"Odin?" he asked.

Receiving nothing but a new pat on his shoulder and once again, the traditional giggle that came along the whole noisy environment around, all at once invading Ivar's ears like a wave of noise and mess once again.

"Ho ho ho... Merry Christmas!"

Standing in front of him was nothing but an actor, fully dressed like the old Santa. Nothing different from the usual along with the fake gift boxes and all the rest Ivar could see when he turned his head, confused, searching for that whole illusion he was thrown into one second ago.

Was that a delirium? Was that somehow real?

"What's wrong, Ivar?" Y/N's voice woke him up and called his attention causing Ivar to once again turn himself too quick to look at her.

Another clang from his braces. Ivar waited for the wave of pain...

But it never came.

"Are your legs ok? Are you in pain, love?" she asked, fully worried.

But Ivar looked shocked down to his legs, feeling nothing. Absolutely no pain. Like one of his best-bones' days...

The days he used to say were gifts from the gods into his life.

"I... I... I think I... I'm fine I just... For a moment..." Ivar gasped with the words.

His eyes were still searching around for that image so vivid of Odin he had seen. He was sure he had seen! It was real!

And he took his pain away for a day...

"You see? The cold is starting to freeze Ivar's brain! Can we go home or at least somewhere warm now?" Sigurd complained.

The kids coming closer to Ubbe with their hands full of candy canes from Hvitserk's bag.

Everyone was so close... They didn't have disappeared.

But Ivar was sure he was the only one who saw that man.

"Are you ok, Ivar?" Y/N asked again and Ivar finally focused his eyes on her.

"I am. I'm just... I think I just need some warm chocolate and we can stay a little longer... For the kids, I mean."

"What?" Sigurd complained immediately. "See? Frozen brains!" he said, pointing Ivar's head.

But Ivar just approached Y/N's, speaking low, almost like a secret.

"Do you believe this thing about... Santa and Odin... Being the same person and stuff?" he asked, causing Y/N to smile.

"Oh, this is why you're so bothered, isn't it? Babe, don't be like this, uh? Some historians say that our Santa is somehow inspired by Odin with his eight-legged horse, granting gifts to his followers and knowing who was acting bad or good along his way. If it makes you feel more comfortable then think about this place as Odin's village!" she joked.

Getting a small curve from Ivar's lips.

"Come, let's get you that hot chocolate, uh?" she said, enlacing his arm with her own and starting to walk at his pace towards the coffee shop Hvitserk was already entering for what? The third time?

Ivar's eyes looked back at that man dressed as Santa Claus, complimenting everyone. His steps showing him his legs weren't aching at all anymore. Whoever it was, Santa Claus, Odin... It had really granted him a gift for that day.

The Santa turned looking at him once again.

And Ivar could swear that one-eyed man winked at him before it was nothing but the actor once again.

"Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas!" the man yelled.

Santa Claus' Village... Odin's place... It wasn't that bad to make that trip after all.

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#history vikings #imagine vikings #ivar #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar’s heathen army #sister wives #shot

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my-random-ocs · 3 years

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Rise Up Prologue

Pairing: Stiles Stlinski x OC (eventual)

Warnings: Swirlies, water, mentions of death

Author’s Note: Hi, everyone! I am really excited about this. Honestly, I woke up one day and was like, what if I made a Teen Wolf PJO crossover? So, of course I had to make one. Zia already existed in the Teen Wolf universe, but I also made her exist in the PJO stories. This will cover Battle of the Labyrinth through the Heroes of Olympus, as well as seasons 3-6 of Teen Wolf. Her love interest is Stiles, which will happen eventually. Hope you enjoy!

|| Masterlist || Next >>>

“Hey,” I greeted, walking over to Annabeth, who was sitting by the door of the Hermes cabin, reading a book.

“Hey,” Annabeth repeated, looking up from her book.

“So, the drooling boy is on his way?” I asked, sitting next to her.

She sent me a look. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Nope,” I said cheerfully.

She groaned. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Chiron leading Percy Jackson over to us, and nudge Annabeth, causing her to follow my gaze. We stood up to greet them.

“Annabeth, Zia,” Chiron said. “I have masters’ archery class at noon. Would you two take Percy from here?”

Annabeth and I nodded. “Yes, sir,” Annabeth said.

“You got it,” I added.

“Cabin eleven,” Chiron told Percy, nodding toward the building. “Make yourself at home.”

With that, he left, and Percy turned to Annabeth and I, looking nervous.

“Hi,” I smiled, sticking my hand out. “Zia Banerjee.”

“Percy Jackson,” he said, shaking my hand.

“Come on, you two,” Annabeth said, waving us inside.

I stepped right inside. Percy tripped on the way in, causing some kids to snicker.

“Percy Jackson, meet cabin eleven,” Annabeth announced.

“Regular or undetermined?” A voice asked. I recognized it as Connor Stoll.

“Undetermined,” Annabeth answered, and everyone groaned.

“Now, now, campers. That’s what we’re here for.” Luke Castellan, cabin counselor and my sister’s boyfriend, stepped through the crowd. Nisha herself was right behind him. I gave my sister a little wave, and grinned, winking at me. Luke smiled at Percy. “Welcome, Percy. You can have that spot on the floor, right over there.”

“This is Luke,” Annabeth introduced. She had a slight blush. “He’s your counselor for now.”

“For now?” Percy asked.

“You’re undetermined,” Luke elaborated patiently. “They don’t know which cabin to put you in, so you’re here. Cabin eleven takes all newcomers, all visitors. Naturally, we would. Hermes, our patron, is the god of travelers.”

“And this is my sister, Nisha,” I said, gesturing to her.

“And our mom!” Another voice called out. Travis Stoll’s this time. Everyone giggled.

Percy looked confused at that, but asked instead, “How long will I be here?”

“Until you’re determined,” Nisha said.

“How long will that take?”

Most of the cabin laughed.

“We don’t know yet,” I said, and nodded toward the door. “Come on, Annabeth and I will keep giving you a tour.”

I heard Nisha quieting the kids’ laughter as the door shut behind us.

As we moved away from the cabin, Percy turned to look at me. “So you and that girl are…”

“Nisha,” I answered. “We’re full siblings. Pretty much raised me. She’s dating Luke.”

“Did you have a mom or a dad?” Percy asked.

Annabeth was quick to glare at him, but I didn’t mind the question.

“Our mom is Aphrodite,” I said cheerfully. “The gods aren’t really around enough to raise their kids. Our dad… he died two years ago. Monster attack. It’s how we got to camp.”

“I’m sorry,” Percy said softly, and I knew he was thinking about his mom. “Someone called her ‘Mom’. Is she his mom?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “That was one of the Stoll brothers. Nisha is not his mother. Nisha is nineteen, and older than most campers. She’s sort of a mix between mom and older sister for a lot of the younger campers. Since she’s the oldest Aphrodite kid at camp, she’s our senior counselor. Cabin ten, over there.” I pointed to a pink cabin a few feet away.

Percy nodded in understanding. “Are you from Long Island?”

I shook my head again. “Beacon Hills, California, but I live here full time. Most campers go back to their mortal families for the school year, but there are some, like Nisha and I, that stay year-round. We’re… homeschooled here, I guess you can say.”

“Do you miss it?” Percy asked.

I nodded, feeling sad then. “Yeah. I do. I loved it there- it was home. I had friends, did well in school, despite the learning stuff. I even skipped second grade. I think about going back all the time.” I started to finger my camp necklace, with the locket charm that held pictures that were special to me.

Percy opened his mouth to respond, but Annabeth noticed the look on my face, and said suddenly, “Let’s go see the volleyball courts.” She grabbed his arm and dragged him along with her, leaving me to follow.

“But I’ve already seen them,” Percy protested.

“Jackson, you have to do better than that,” Annabeth said.

“What?”

“I can’t believe I thought you were the one,” Annabeth muttered, and I rolled my eyes.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” I said.

“What’s your problem?” Percy demanded. “All I know is, I kill some bull guy-”

“Don’t talk like that!” Annabeth interrupted. “You know how many kids at this camp wish they’d had your chance?”

“To get killed?”

“To fight the Minotaur! What do you think we train for?”

Percy shook his head. “Look, if the thing I fought really was the Minotaur, the same one in the stories…”

“That’s the one,” I confirmed.

“Then there’s only one.”

“Yep.”

“And he died, like, a gajillion years ago, right? Theseus killed him in the labyrinth. So…”

“Monsters don’t die, Percy,” Annabeth said, exasperated. “They can be killed. But they don’t die.”

“Oh, thanks. That clears it up.” He rolled his eyes, and I snorted.

“They don’t have mortal souls like we do,” I elaborated. “You can eliminate them for a while, maybe a whole lifetime if you’re really lucky. But they’re primal forces. Chiron calls them archetypes. Eventually, inevitably, they will reform.”

Percy thought about that for a moment. “You mean, if I killed one, accidentally, with a sword-”

“The Fur-” Annabeth cut herself off. “I mean, your math teacher. That’s right. She’s still out there. You just made her very, very mad.”

“How did you know about Mrs. Dodds?”

“You talk in your sleep,” Annabeth stated.

“You almost called her something,” Percy noticed. “A Fury? They’re Hades’ torturers, right?”

Annabeth glanced at the ground nervously as I told Percy, “You shouldn’t call them by name, even at camp. If we absolutely have to call them anything, we call them the Kindly Ones.”

“Look, is there anything we can say without it thundering?” Percy asked. I understood what he was feeling. I felt the same way on my first official day here. “Why do I even have to stay in cabin eleven, anyway? Why is everybody so crowded together? There are plenty of empty bunks right over there.”

He pointed to the first couple of cabins, and I immediately shook my head. “You can’t just stay in any random cabin. The cabin you stay in depends on who your parent is. Nisha and I, we stay in the Aphrodite cabin because that’s who our mother is. We can’t stay in, say, the Apollo cabin because we aren’t Apollo’s children.”

“My mom is Sally Jackson,” Percy said, not quite getting it. “She works at the candy store in Grand Central Station. At least, she used to.”

I sighed. “I’m really sorry about your mom, Percy. I remember what it was like when my father died- how it still is sometimes. But that’s not what I mean. I’m talking about your other parent.”

“My dad is dead. I never knew him.”

Annabeth sighed. We’ve both had this conversation with other demigods before. “Your father’s not dead, Percy,” she said.

“How can you say that? You know him?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then how can you say-”

“Because we know you,” Annabeth countered. “You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t one of us.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Percy said.

Annabeth raised a challenging eyebrow. “No? I bet you moved from school to school. I bet you were kicked out of a lot of them.”

“How-”

I took over. “Diagnosed with dyslexia. Probably ADHD, too. Maybe even on the autism spectrum, too. You’d be surprised how much ADHD and autism overlap. I’m all three.”

“I’m ADHD and dyslexic,” Percy confirmed. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Grouped together, it’s almost a sure sign,” Annabeth said. “The letters float off the page when you read, right? That’s because your mind is hardwired for ancient Greek. And the ADHD- you’re impulsive, can’t sit still in the classroom. That’s your battlefield reflexes. In a real fight, they’d keep you alive. As for the attention problems, that’s because you see too much, Percy, not too little. Your senses are better than a regular mortal’s. Of course the teachers want you medicated. Most of them are monsters. They don’t want you seeing them for what they are.”

Percy looked like he was trying hard to process everything. “You sound like… you went through the same thing?”

“Most of us did,” I said. “If you weren’t like us, you couldn’t have survived the Minotaur, much less the ambrosia and nectar.”

“Ambrosia and nectar,” Percy deadpanned.

“The food and drink we gave you to make you get better,” I explained. “That stuff would kill a normal kid. It would have turned your blood to fire and your bones to sand and then you would be dead. Face it. You’re a demigod.”

Percy looked like he had a million questions, but didn’t know where to start.

Before he could figure it out, a voice called out, “Well! A newbie.”

Clarisse La Rue, head counselor of the Ares cabin, sauntered toward us. She had three of her sisters behind her, wearing matching camo jackets.

“Clarisse,” Annabeth sighed. “Why don’t you go polish your spear or something?”

“Sure, Miss Princess,” Clarisse said. “So I can run you through with it Friday night.”

“Erre es karakes!” Annabeth cursed. Go to the crows! It’s a worse curse than it sounded. “You don’t stand a chance.”

“We’ll pulverize you,” Clarisse promised, but we all knew she wouldn’t be able to go through with it. She turned to Percy. “Who’s this little runt?”

“Percy Jackson,” I said, “meet Clarisse La Rue, daughter of Ares.”

“Like… the war god?” Percy asked.

“You got a problem with that?” Clarisse demanded.

“No. It explains the bad smell.”

I covered my snort with a cough, but I knew this may not end well.

“We got an initiation ceremony for newbies, Prissy,” Clarisse growled.

“Percy,” he corrected.

“Whatever. Come on, I’ll show you.”

“Clarisse-” Annabeth tried.

“Stay out of it, wise girl,” Clarisse snapped.

It took everything I had not to get involved, knowing that Percy would have to be the one to prove himself. He handed Annabeth his Minotaur horn and squared up, but Clarisse grabbed him before he could do anything, dragging him by the neck toward the girls’ bathrooms.

“Like he’s ‘Big Three’ material,” Clarisse mocked. “Yeah, right. Minotaur probably fell over laughing, he was so stupid looking.”

Her friends snickered.

Annabeth and I hovered in a corner. She was watching through her fingers as I clutched my camp necklace anxiously.

Clarisse forced Percy to his knees and started pushing his head toward the toilet bowl, but he tried hard to keep his head up.

Suddenly, the pipes started to groan, and a stream of water shot out of the toilet, straight over Percy’s head and into Clarisse’s face so hard she fell right onto her butt. I would have laughed if the other toilets hadn’t exploded, as well, and even the showers, spraying everyone in the vicinity with water. Gross.

By the end, the entire bathroom was flooded, and Clarisse and her friends had been pushed out the door. Only Annabeth and I, though soaking wet, were standing in the same place. She stared at Percy in shock while I grinned. That’s when I realized that Percy was still dry. There wasn’t a drop of water on his clothes, or in his hair, or anywhere. There was a circle of dry floor around him.

He stood, shaking slightly.

“How did you…” Annabeth started, then trailed off.

Percy looked just as mystified. “I don’t know.”

The three of us stepped outside and found Clarisse and her friends sprawled on the ground, and a bunch of other campers staring at the scene. She gave Percy a look of seething hatred. “You are dead, new boy,” she said. “You are totally dead.”

“You want to gargle with toilet water again, Clarisse?” Percy said. “Close your mouth.”

Her friends held her back, dragging her with them back to cabin five.

Annabeth stared at Percy. I knew her pretty well, and even I didn’t know whether or not she was about to pummel Percy for dousing her with gross toilet water.

“What?” Percy demanded. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking,” she said, “that I want you on my team for capture the flag.”

Later, after dinner, everyone headed down to the amphitheater, where the Apollo kids would lead a sing-along. The Hermes and Aphrodite cabins sat in the same area so that Nisha and Luke could sit next to each other. I sat on Nisha’s other side. My sister and her boyfriend held hands, smiling at each other as they sang songs about someone’s grandmother getting dressed for war. Percy, who was next to me, did his best to follow along. We ate too many s’mores, and laughed, and joked around.

And as much as I missed my hometown, I looked around at the campers- my family- and knew that I was home.

If I had known what would happen next, I would have enjoyed it more.

#rise up #zia banerjee #teen wolf #teen wolf oc #pjo #pjo ocs

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jackdawyt · 4 years

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Given that Tevinter Nights is just over one month old, and the majority of you have had a decent chance to pick it up and give it a good read, I want to share my full-spoiler predications for Dragon Age 4 based on many new aspects Tevinter Nights brings to the ever-so expanding universe of Dragon Age. As a quick preface, this sort of video is definitely going to be more of an opinion piece, sharing my own thoughts and marvels on everything Tevinter Nights foreshadows for the future game.

I encourage all of your thoughts and theories too, so share them down below! But, without further ado, I’ll start by sharing my predictions on the main tone of Dragon Age 4.

Tone:

The Dragon Age games have always followed a Dark Fantasy approach to storytelling with morally grey choices, excessive gore and truly twisted plot-beats like ravenous Broodmothers, and Hawke’s mother’s macabre death, which was oh so gruesome and a pinnacle example of Dragon Age’s dark fantasy tone.

While some may argue Dragon Age: Inquisition was the weakest in this dark fantasy department, Tevinter Nights revitalises any hope for the return of deeper and darker themes in the next Dragon Age game.

Y’see Tevinter Nights, acting as a prologue for Dragon Age 4, introduces a bounty of dark fantasy storytelling that will certainly push the future plots in a most diabolical way.

Introduced in this book, we had plenty of things that would give even a darkspawn the heebie jeebies!

From: evil twisted human/centipedal/insectoid monstrosities, demon worshipping cults, ancient wicked beings, (“Cekorax”), death and blood magic, murder machinations, eldritch horrors, domestic abuse, inhumane treatment, ghastly apparitions, demonic possession, and plenty more hard-hitting themes that are paving the way for Dragon Age 4’s story.

And if none of those themes satiated your own dark desires for the next Dragon Age game, well, don’t forget about the main narrative focusing on stopping a prideful and powerful elven mage who can take shape into the wicked Dread Wolf attempting to commit mass-genocide for the sake of his long-lost people. Oh, not to mention the fact that this elf could’ve broken up with you too, causing your heart to ache every single second as he tears down Thedas, and the love you once shared together...

With that said, Dragon Age 4’s tone should certainly take the franchise back to its dark fantasy roots if it follows the layout Tevinter Nights has laid ahead. Let’s move on to the next game’s potential locations.

Locations:

First up, The Tevinter Imperium.

From the Capital City Minrathous, home to the Magisterium to Elven tombs lurking in The Silent Planes. There are many prominent locations that could make for a worthy visit within the Imperium. However, with the ongoing Qunari Antaam invasion ransacking many of Tevinter’s northern cities, many of the Imperium’s major holdings will be torn by the current war and preparing for a siege.

Not to mention the other major epidemic on the Imperium and its people - the scheme Solas has to destroy the veil. Not that this pain will be exclusive to the Imperium, as by gum, it will hurt all of Thedas.

But, the entirety of Tevinter’s land was once in possession of the ancient elves during the elvhen times. Solas’s scheme seeks a redemption of his people, and so a reclamation of the land is merely inevitable.

The people of Tevinter are not only evading a brutal religious conquest against their homes, but an elven God’s conflict too.

With so much contention impending, the Tevinter Imperium is critically endangered. Can Tevinter’s most contrived government save its very people, or will we see this once great Empire stumble into chaos?

Next up, Nevarra.

The main ongoing conflict in Nevarra regards the Van Markham, Pentagasht and many other nobles fighting for their own right to the throne, as King Marcus’s reign will soon end with no heir to rule after him.

However, just outside of the Capital; Nevarra City, lies the Mortalitasi’s Grand Necropolis, a stronghold and morgue built into the side of a mountain to hold Neverra’s elite family tombs.

In a very recent catastrophic ritual held in the Grand Necropolis caverns, the Dread Wolf attacked the Mortalitasi, sending demons to stop the ritual and kill the rest of the mages. In a desperate effort, the surviving mages sealed the caverns with no trace of the invading demons.

Investigating the Dread Wolf’s movements may play a huge part in the next plot, and having the Mortalitasi as allies could change the tide of battle. So, Nevarra’s Grand Necropolis would certainly make for a grand visit.

And then there’s Hunter Fell, a small town just west of Nevarra City, where a tavern called ‘The Teahouse’ appeared to be the last known location that Solas had made a physical appearance. Another worthy place to investigate further plot ties.

Throughout the lands of Nevarra, there are at least elven more ancient elven/dwarven thaigs that are built into Nevarran mountains, to our knowledge, only one has been opened and it contained horrific mutilated creatures followed by a gas that had a stench of the ocean.

Nevarra and its surrounding areas are ripe with plot lines and narrative potential that will need to have a huge impact in the next Dragon Age game.

Following that, we’ve got Antiva.

Just like Tevinter, the majority of Nothern Antiva is under widespread invasion by the Qunari Antaam. However, quite unlike Tevinter, Antiva doesn’t exactly have their own dedicated military forces, instead the country relies on the Anitvan Crows to take action.

The leaders of the Antivan Crows have their own inner conflict as one of the eight major houses leading the crows decided to sign a contract with the Qunari for a peaceful invasion, in which Antiva would be ‘spared’ in exchange for the deaths of every other talon.

The talons discovered this treachery and put the situation to bed with the death of the Kortez family talon. With the peaceful conflict in shambles, a very much hostile Qunari invasion lingers on the horizon for Antiva.

Although the Anitvan Crows may make for a worthwhile trip to Antiva, who can say what will remain of the country when Dragon Age 4 arrives.

Lastly, we have The Anderfels.

To my knowledge, the most outstanding location The Anderfels has to offer is Fortress Weisshaupt, the headquarters of the Grey Wardens.

There’s been a lot of talk regarding the Anderfels Wardens, that they have a secret, or they’ve discovered something, or they’re all dead. henceforth, Fortress Weisshaupt has cut communications to the other Wardens across Thedas, remaining silent and alone.

Could this sworn secret silencing the Wardens from the other groups be the return of Griffons? Have they discovered even more intelligent darkspawn, perhaps another Magister of old, or are the Warden leaders fighting amongst themselves?

The search for this truth could make for a notable quest line in Dragon Age 4.

I’ll shuffle away from Rivan as a prominent location because I believe this country is intentionally neutral for many reasons that I’ll uncover in the next category.

With that, let’s talk about one of the biggest aspects that is going to make or break the next Dragon Age game.

The Protagonist:

Spy.

We’ve known for a fair while that Dragon Age 4’s previous iteration had the player prance around Tevinter as a spy, partaking in high risk, high reward heists. However, before major development picked up, the project was canned and the majority of its ideas were too.

It’s unknown if any of that previous work will make its way into the latest iteration, or if it’s all been scrapped.

But, before we shed a tear thinking about what Dragon Age 4 might’ve been based on the original iteration... If Tevinter Nights has taught me one thing, it’s that this spy role for our new protagonist still has plenty of potential. So, keep your daggers at the ready because I wouldn’t call playing as a spy off the table just yet.

As it stands, a spy is the biggest and best contender we have for our next character - chasing every lead after Solas, attempting to find a crack in his grand scheme, recovering intel and ancient artefacts, all the while being someone completely different than The Inquisitor. We’re a nobody, someone who can slip between the seams without garnering any attention.

Which is the perfect role to defeat Solas because he doesn’t know of both our existence, and weaknesses.

Tevintet Nights builds up a lot of espionage plotlines, introducing brand new factions in Thedas that are particularly interested in subterfuge and trickery. Or as I like to call it hankey-pankey. Each attempting to gather information to defeat Solas before he set’s Thedas ablaze.

So, because many major factions throughout Thedas operate a sole spy network, we have plenty of race origin stories for our next spy, conceptually.

Say we play as a human; we can be a member of the Tevinter Siccari. If we’re a dwarf, we can belong to the Carta. If we choose an elf, we could be an Ex-Fen'Harel Agent, and if we played as a Qunari, we could be a member of the Ben-Hassrath.

Satisfying each race with their own reconnaissance background, allowing the protagonist to have an already established understanding of Solas and his plan, so they can begin their journey of attempting to stop him.

Through heists and other risky missions, we could embark on a fast pace, tense narrative that’s more akin to a suicide mission. Very much different to the previous Dragon Age entries, however, completely logically given the tone of the predicted narrative.

And, Maker’s arse, I could go on with many more ideas for a spy protagonist, but we’ve got other concepts to move on to. If that doesn’t quench your thirst for potential spy dynamics in the next Dragon Age game, well I did create a dedicated video to this topic that you can check out.

Lord of Fortune (Treasure Hunter).

In the same direction as a stealthy spy, but rather quite different and certainly stricter, but has its own unique appeal (..) we could potentially play as a Rivani Lord of Fortune! More apropos, a distinct Treasure Hunter seeking fortune, wealth and any opportunity that pays well enough.

And perhaps the gig that pays well enough is to, without question, recover certain artefacts and idols that may be required in stopping an Elven God that wants to destroy the veil. However, that information is beyond our pay grade, and were not one to question a paid job.

And then, as things escalate, our Treasure Hunter finds themselves in a perilous situation, and they decide to take the hunt against the Dread Wolf, with more reason than just coin, but to fight for Thedas and their new family.

What marks a Lord of Fortune as significant is the fact that they’re from Rivan, a country we’ve not yet seen much of in Dragon Age, and somewhat of a neutral location for our next protagonist. As they make choices that may affect Tevinter or Nevarra, they won’t have a bias based on that being their home, they will be able to make a neutral choice based on the context given, and none other.

There were plenty of nods to the Lords of Fortune in Tevinter Nights. Regardless, if we’re not playing as one, we’ll certainly encounter one or two in the next game.

Executor.

And in a completely obscure, but necessary direction... how about playing as an Executor? A being, or person, or whatever the heck they are, from “beyond the sea.” This character style would grant the players with a new perspective on Thedas, and would allow new players to pick up the series, as you’d slowly learn about the narrative piece by piece, playing as someone who probably doesn’t know much about the world of Thedas, and would need somewhat of an education on the events of this world.

We don’t know much about the Executors at all, so what’s better way to discover them then actually playing as one?

The Inquisitor (Dual?).

As my final protagonist concept for Dragon Age 4, I feel it necessary as an Inquisitor fanboy to reiterate the ancient method many fans would like to see, and that is the dual protagonist mechanic. Allowing the next game to have two protagonists. As a TLDR, because I’ve talked about this before, but let's say we play as the returning Inquisitor for 20% of the game as they find loose ends on Solas, deal with diplomatic and political matters, and have more of a conversational style to gameplay. Then, we switch to our new protagonist who spends the rest of the game exploring Tevinter, building allies and attempting to stop Solas.

Putting this topic to bed, the Inquisitor needs to witness the end to Solas, whether peacefully or vengefully, he’s the Inquisitor’s friend, rival or romance. So, they need to be there to deal with him.

Potential Allies:

Anyhow, we’ve talked about the next protagonist, let’s explore some plot threads and briefly run through the factions we may, or may not have on our side depending on our choices in Dragon Age 4.

The Mortalitasi

Nevarra’s own death mages who’re responsible for mummifying the bodies of elite families using powerful necromancy and binding magic. It is said that the Mortalitasi are so powerful, they influence and sway the king’s decrees and decisions over the kingdom.

The Tevinter Siccari

The Imperium’s best shadow network, made of highly skilled and secretive agents who each come from slave families, they are formidable and honourable warriors.

The Qunari Ben Hassrath

The Qun’s dedicated spies and enforcers, they’re responsible for re-educating those not familiar with the Qun, however, the group are currently fixated on Solas’s movements. Reportedly The Ben Hassrath have the most knowledge about the Wolf than anyone else on Thedas, because of this, they remain a neutral party in Thedas’s war effort.

The Inquisition

Remnants of the Inquisition army continue the mission of their Inquisitor, with many agents enlisting to fight against an opposing threat.

The Carta

This crime syndicate has been investigating all matters concerning the blight that has become ‘bad for business’ in the dwarven kingdom, like the red lyriun idol.

The Executors

Mysterious beings who come from beyond the sea, they would rather not see this world come to an end, and so they too seek a demise to the Wolf.

The Antivan Crows

Antiva’s best and brightest hired assassins, who’ve recently denied the Qunari Antaam’s ‘peaceful’ contract for invasion. Now, they will fight for their country and its people.

The Grey Wardens

The legendary heroes of old are long gone, the group continues with incompetent leaders who stain the title Grey Warden. However, those who linger in Fortress Weishaupt have a secret, one that has not yet left the premise. Whatever that may be...

And I’m sure plenty more factions will arise; however, these were my main hot takes based on Tevinter Nights. With that, let’s discus the rivalling factions that will most likely be out for our blood in the next game.

Enemies:

The Qunari Antaam

The Qun, under the leadership of Sten as Arishock, stands divided. The Antaam, the Qun’s dedicated military branch has decided for themselves to invade Thedas without authorisation from the rest of the Qun. The zealot army sieges cities across Northern Tevinter and Antiva, continuing to rampage all of Thedas’s land until the people either kneel to the Qun or pay the price with their own blood. They will not stop until their mission is complete, and no one will get in their way, not even their own people.

Solas/Dread Wolf

Solas seeks to destroy the veil, destroying Thedas. He’s absorbed Mythal’s essence so he can rise as the horrific Dread Wolf, a creature who has taken residence in the Fade, with his own demon army whom serve him willingly.

Ancient Elves

Ancient and Dalish Elves have joined Solas’s ranks, known as the Cult of Fen’Harel, they abide by Solas’s every scheme and have begun to cause chaos for Thedas, like attempting to set up a calamity feud between the Qunari Ben Hassrath and Tevinter Kinsman. Who knows what they may do next?

Venatori Remnants

They tried to summon an ancient demon in Tevinter’s capital city, surely, they aren't over that plan just yet.

Main Story/Plot Points:

Now we get to the juicy story predications, where I get to speculate the heck out of many key plot aspects of Dragon Age 4’s narrative. So, hold on tight to your tinfoil hats!

The Red Lyrium Idol

The whereabouts of the Red Lyrium Idol are still quite the mystery, we’ve learned a great deal about this device, however, we still don’t know what it represents, and how significant it will be regarding Solas’s plan to destroy the veil. So, will we be embarking on a McGuffin style questline to find this idol before Solas gets it?

Let’s say we’re a spy journeying into epic heists, attempting to beat Solas to the finish line and destroy this idol before he gets it. Or, maybe this idol plot-point may be wrapped up by the time of Dragon Age 4’s launch, and we’ll be doing something else?

The point is, this idol is still a mystery and it needs solving, so by that measure, it’s probably going to have some involvement in Dragon Age 4.

Solas/Dread Wolf Antagonist

Based on what we know about the story going forward, Solas will most certainly be the next antagonist, that’s a given at this point unless the plot drastically changes and Mythal or The Titans, or a new evil takes that position. As it stands though, Solas seemingly is the big bad of Dragon Age 4.

And, he’s has already risen as the Dread Wolf, so that’s just grand, we’re already doomed! The plot will most likely focus around stopping Solas before he destroys the veil... if there even is a way to stop him.

As another obvious predication, I believe we may follow between two main choices throughout every action in the next game, those choices are: do we want to redeem Solas, or stop him. If our intention is to redeem Solas, then perhaps he’ll listen to what we’ve got to say, however, if we pursuit his death, then perhaps we’ll only be greeted by The Dread Wolf.

Allies

Regarding the main plot of defeating Solas, I believe we’ll be gathering more intel on the Dread Wolf by teaming up with many dedicated factions across Nothern Thedas. While some groups may join our ranks more willingly like the Mortalitasi, I believe we may have a few decisions between choosing one faction over another because of their own quarrels. Like choosing between the Tevinter Siccari and Qunari Ben Hassrath, each providing agents and intelligence in their own way against Solas, however, completely hostile to the other faction.

We’re going to need allies to stop Solas, there’s no way around that. Not every faction is going to get along, and magically unifying every divisive faction under one banner would be unrealistic and feel cheap in my opinion. If we can choose between key factions, there’d be a sense of contention throughout every single choice we could make.

As well as gathering and helping as many allies as possible who support our cause against the Dread Wolf, I have a few more main mission predictions like embarking on epic heists stealing and claiming Elven artefacts and Evanuris runes. And stopping key agents of Fen’Harel and their destructive plans for Thedas.

Side Plots:

Alongside our main story content, we’ve got plenty of side plots and threads that need to be explored. So, here’s a rapid list of some extra conflicts I think we’ll see in the next game.

The Grey Warden’s sudden silence at Fortress Weishaupt.

Aiding the Mortalitasi.

The Qunari Antaam’s invasion against Northern Thedas.

Uncovering Ghilinan’s Creations, Pre-Veil Monsters and Ancient Thaigs.

The Remnant Venatori Cult threat.

The mysteries concerning the Titans.

Companions:

And, now we get to the most subjective list, the roster of companions we may share this journey against Solas with.

Rogues:

I want to see Vaea, she’s my favourite character in the comics and she appeared in ‘Harold Had The Plan’. I know I speak for even the comic writers that she deserves a spotlight in the next game. The only problem is, she doesn’t kill, but heck, she could perform a support role in the group.

Next up, Scout Lace Harding. She’s been teased, but she deserves a comeback as a bigger role, and she can serve as a reminder of the Inquisition, filling the new protagonist in on previous events correlating to Solas.

And, Lucanis Dellamorte, an Antivan Crow assassin introduced in ‘The Wigmaker Job’. Although he has no interest in becoming First Talon, he’s said to be his grandmother’s favourite, and she intends on making him her heir.

Mages:

Vadis, an Altus Thief introduced in ‘Half Up Front’. She was disowned by her father because of her relationship with an elf. As of which, she’s a wayward traveller who came across a calamity scheme of Fen’Harel’s which would’ve caused an incredible feud between the Qun and Tevinter. Since stopping those responsible, and making herself known to the Dread Wolf, she’s headed to Kirkwall to meet Varric Tethras so she and her partner can strike back.

A Female Qunari. Patrick Weekes tweeted back in 2017 that this sort of character style would be a biggie because it’s someone they haven’t done before. I don’t have any character in mind because there were no significant female Qunari’s in Tevinter Nights, however, that doesn’t mean we can’t have a guess. We’ve had two previous warrior Qunari, and I think we’d all love to see an ex-sarrabas, wielding powerful Fade magic.

Philliam, a Bard! Is a scholar responsible for collecting and curating many texts in Thedas. His knowledge and penmanship would certainly be a large help, not to mention his dashing personality, he’s a Bard for Andraste’s sake!

Warriors:

Fenris, as a returning character from Dragon Age 2, I think Fenris is one of the most viable characters to return as a companion. His lyrium tattoos provide for a very unique combat style, and he’s got plenty of substance in Tevinter as he continues his blood trail of magisters. Not only that, he’s been setting slaves free and is personally involved in a red lyrium plot conducted by the Venatori remnants.

Grey Warden Ramesh is a man who has seen some true horrors in his life. Introduced in ‘The Horror of Hormak’, Ramesh has seen one of the many ancient thaigs that contain ancient elven nightmares, as he witnessed his partner sacrifice her life so he could escape. His mission stands to warn the rest of the Wardens of the remaining eleven thaigs.

“Hollix” is a Lord of Fortune introduced in “Luck in the Gardens”. They defeated a great tentacle monster lurking in the gardens of Minrathous, with the assistance of Dorian Pavus and Maevaris Tilani. Not only can they perfect the fine arts of theft, but “Hollix” makes for a great hunter and tracker.

Silly:

As for some sillier, but very much necessary companion predictions, I have a few more that I need to share:

A Nevarran Mortalitasi Skeleton, in the Grand Necropolis, the death mages have actual skeleton servants who do pretty much anything for their masters, being bound by a spell to serve for the rest of your days will do that to you. I say, if they’re already bound, why not have one too?

In the opposite direction, I’d like to see my Mabari Dog return. That is all.

How about an Executor? They’re such a mystery, if we’re not going to find out what’s behind their vyrantium robes any other way, then we may need to take a gander and see for ourselves.

And, lastly, I’d be silly not to ask for an Elven God companion.

In truth, these are just a few of my companion predications very much based on Tevinter Nights, I believe the next game will have a variety of different companions. The main takeaway from this section going forward is to expect the sort of character we haven’t already had, as Patrick Weekes stated.

Let me know your predictions down below, what you think we can predict for Dragon Age 4!

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sarahsmiles1991 · 3 years

Text

Xena Sharptooth - Critical Role Fanfiction

Summary: Though she was banished by the clan, Lady Kima asks her to join on her quest to Kraghammer to go into the depth below to stop a great evil within. Reluctant to go but agrees, Xena Sharptooth joins her; what dangers awaits her down there and who the hell are these clowns?!

Character Info Sheet

Name: Xena Sharptooth 30 ft Walking AC: 19

Class: Paladin lv. 9 Oath of Vengeance God: Bahamut

Race: Half-Orc Background: Urchin HP: 94

Armour: Mithril Breastplate Weapons: Animated Shield

Brooch of Shielding Flame Tongue Short-sword

Holy Symbol of Bahamut Platinum

Dragon attached by leather string and

hangs from her neck under her armour

Abilities

Strength: 20 (5+)

Dexterity: 16 (6+)

Constitution: 18 (4+)

Intelligence: 15 (2+)

Wisdom: 15 (2+)

Charisma: 16 (3+)

Saving Throws

Strength +8

Dexterity +6

Constitution +7

Intelligence +5

Wisdom (P) +9

Charisma (P) +10

Introduction/Background

Xena Sharptooth has lived as an urchin most of her life and being abandoned by her own mother she took to the street and stole food from the markets and earn gold by singing. However her luck rang out when the fruit seller caught and prepared to chop her hands off as punishment, but then an old Paladin by the name of Sir Alistair Brightworth, servant to Bahamut stopped this a says that he will take this half orc and make something out of her. With little to no choice but to go with the old paladin he takes her to the monastery and begins her training. As she grew she became a strong and skilful with a shield and sword and was given the test to become one of the generals.

Unfortunately, being a half orc the some of paladins and clerics were terrified, disgust and jealousy that such a creature would become one of the leaders. Before she could even start the test the head of the monastery struck a trial of scandal and murder on her; to her horror and sadness no one, not even her brothers and sisters in training took a stand with her and she was banished from the one place she thought was her true home. Now older and bitter Xena took to the mountains, killing bandits and evil creatures to take her mind off her anger and ignore the voice of a being who asks for forgiveness and redemption.

In town for a drink and supplies Xena comes across an old companion of hers, Lady Kima who she trained with. She pleads to Xena to come with her to Kraghammer to find a great evil that could be hidden within it’s depths; with great hesitation and a migraine from the voice in her head she agrees and goes with her to find this darkness and hopes that not only she makes it out alive but to have the voice stop talking to her.

Prologue

Xena Sharptooth was having a good day!

Not only did she get rid of the rest of the bandits that have been terrorizing a village but also found a bag of holding! How the bloody hell the leader came by such a thing is beyond her but she didn’t question it cause she can only imagine the vibrating purrs in her head would do.

Oh yes, ever since her banishment from the Paladins of Bahamut the Platinum Dragon, the stupid lizard has not let her forget that they have not forsaken her. No matter how much she tries to ignore them they seem to insist on sticking around, it didn’t really help that she was helping villages and other unpopular areas with their troubles for only a few things like food and sleep. Hell in a few minutes she is about to head out to farmers home and help them harvest their goods in exchange for a sack of vegetables, can’t exactly tell a god to fuck off when you are doing good deeds left and right.

Oddly though, as they tore her holy symbol from her armor they allowed her to keep it along with her weapons.

“The Platinum Dragon gave you those tools, though you have used them for your own gain than for others they are still yours.” one of the head ass-holes had explained as they dragged her out.

Scoffing at the whole situation, she puts the last of the goods in her new bag of holding, she puts the strap over her shoulder and makes her way to the village.

The breastplate, though showed it has seen many battles with scuff marks and a few dents here and there one could tell it was kept after Xena thanked the heavens that it was made out of mithril one of the sturdier metals in the world.

Xena hums, as she walks through the animal, made trail, feeling pretty good besides the few scars added to her body; particularly the one at her cheekbone almost making her lose her eye were it not for turning her head the last second.

There’s a spark inside us

that we can all ignite

and all that’s dark inside us

will flicker into light

Like any warrior who has been in battle; scars and wounds were merely accessories and reminders that they have survived her learned in a library that Orcs regard battle scars as tokens of pride and ornamental scars as things of beauty. Her light green colored skin showed all her scars with no help and also being like a beacon if any sort of light took a shine to her and as if she wasn’t so horrific to humans, the orcs gave pause at her green flesh while they had their grey pigmentation before charging at her to attack.

Of all the healers and friendly scholars she would come across none of them could explain what was going on with her skin, she can only assume it had something to do with her parents or a mutation.

There’s a power in every breath

there’s a power in every note

a power that starts within the heart

a power that rises through the throat

Her tusks though not prominent still like to remind people of her background when she grinned in amusement or gave a sneer at a threat. She was of course teased for her features and there had been times where she wanted nothing more than to file her tusks, they did help her in a pinch when she had to bite an offender who thought covering her mouth was a good idea, she still chuckles at that memory. Her wild black hair still a mess after one of the bandits cut the string holding it up, got a stab in the foot for that,��cascaded down her shoulders and to the middle of her back. Normally she would either has it in a ponytail or a plait to keep it out of her face, never once considering getting it cut.

And when it sails up through the air

more beautiful than any prayer

this power can right all wrong

and it will always thrill the ear

of those who have the power to hear

the magic of a song

Now it was her eyes that gave her confounded her; wolf eyes some called them with the yellow glare piercing one's soul if you got close enough to her. No other orc or even half-orcs had the eyes she had, maybe it was the gods' idea of a joke since her skin already make her freak why not throw in wolf eyes, she could feel the lizard admonish her, it gave the locals the idea to nickname her Einn ulfur, Lone Wolf.

There’s a strength inside us

that tells us wrong from right

becomes a song inside us

to chase away the night

By the end of her singing, she made it to the village, it was still midday so there not a lot of people about what harvest time being near and going about their own life. Xena frequent the village a lot so no one really balked at the half-orc heading straight for their elders with a slight smirk on her face. The elders consisted of three female halflings; Shaena Underbough, Portia Tosscobble, and last and certainly not the least Lavina Goodbarrel. Lavina is the eldest of the three and was the first to welcome Xena into the village with open arms, even offering her a place to stay in her home after her banishment from Paladins.

“Ah! And there she is!” Elder Lavina crowed. “Merle! You owe me a pint!”

Merle, husband to Lavina chuckles. “Aye I never should wager against Ulfer, especially against you love.”

“The bandits are no more.” Xena reports, placing the bag of holding to the ground and pulling out all the goods and other useful things for the elders and village to use. “They will not be bothering you a moment longer and I have found some trinkets and the like for you all.”

Lavina raises an eyebrow at the goods. “For bandits going after a small village as ours makes one wonder why they even bother with all this shit.”

“Them swords will be of help for certain.” Shaena says, watching the pile of weapons grow. “Heaven knows our people need them when you go off into the world again, I must say again how much we appreciate your help luv.”

“Mmm.” Portia mumbles, placing her pipe next to her knitting project before getting up and going to inspect the goods. “Plus Jeorge will getting more than enough supplies for the winter with these, did you find your own trinkets to take?”

Xena presents the bag of holding to them with a smirk. “The leader somehow got his hands on this, it is enough for me to-”

“The pretty bag is not enough of a reward for what you have done Ulfer!” Portia interrupts, frowning up at her. “Shaena may just let you do that but I and many others will draw the line if we must! I am sure there is enough gold for you to take.”

With that along with a sound of offense from the other lady, Shaena picks up a rather large sack of what is clearly gold and places it in a bemused Xena’s hand. Shaena though the youngest is the much stricter of the three and much more wary of strangers; when Xena first arrived in the village after months on her own after banishment Shaena was very hesitant to lend a hand to the creature that limped it’s way to their little village with nothing but armor and weapons on her person asking for a simple cup of milk in exchange to help any way she can. Lavina swooped onto Xena before the other two could say anything and the next thing they knew they had a mean green fighting being who protected the village and provided help to others.

“Jeorge will be heading for the city early in the morning, best get cleaned and well-rested for the trip.” Lavina informs Xena, picking up what looks like a bottle of fancy wine.

Xena smiles at the ladies, giving them a nod before heading for Lavina’s townhouse to do just that. Many of the halflings who live in the village greet her as she passes by, along with thanks as she left.

The next morning as she ate the last of her second breakfast Xena Sharptooth was ready for the road along with Jeorge. It took nearly a day to reach the city and Xena slips a gold to Jeorge in thanks as she leaves to the nearest tavern for a late dinner and sees if there were any jobs for her to do.

The Hanging Man was a dwarf-owned tavern so the place looks more made of stone than wood but with how many brawls and fights started one was pretty smart to not have many things made of wood. A large fire pit where many types of meat were being cooked in the middle of the tavern sizzled through the air and made Xena’s mouth water as she could taste that goat leg she had been eyeing as she entered.

One of her favorite meats in the world before her and the bag of holding? Maybe the old lizard was onto something.

“Hello!” a bright-eyed elf wench greets from over the booth with a smile. “Welcome to the Hanging Man! My name is Amelia how may I help you?”

“Leg of goat and a pint of ale.” Xena orders, taking a seat.

“You mean lamb?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.

Xena gave it back. “No I mean that goat leg you have in the fire pit.”

Amelia looks over to the fire pit before shaking her head. “I am sorry but that is for a customer-”

“Actually it is for her.” a soft familiar voice beside from beside her. “Please get it for.”

Xena’s whole body freezes at the voice. Are you fucking kidding you lizard!

A light purr was her reply.

“Three years away and I still know one of your weaknesses, Xena. Never understood your taste in goat than a lamb but to each their own.”

From the corner of her eye she watched as the halfling woman climbs onto the stool beside her, her dirty blond hair tightly braided, complexion darker than the usual halfling with a big scar across the side of her face along with other, smaller scars and of course wearing armor representing gold, silver, and blue of Bahamut.

“Oh like your weakness isn’t teriyaki chicken wings?” Xena mutters, tapping the booth waiting for her drink.

“Oooh don’t remind me, I haven’t had those in months!” the Halfling woman laughs.

Thankfully Xena didn’t have to wait long as her pint arrived along with the goat leg... though it looks magnificent and just asking to be devoured.

“What brings you here Lady Kima?” she asks, sipping her ale. “Don’t you and those dumb-asses have to keep Emon protected since you failed that last time around, also well done on that.”

“What? Can I not wonder about my vacation?” Lady Kima asks with a small smirk completely ignoring Xena’s comment.

“Not when you have Lady Allura waiting for you at home.” Xena was quick to reply.

Lady Kima’s dark complexion became darker as she clears her throat looking around nervously. “She is busy with her own things and I am not here to talk about such things. I am here for you though.”

“Oh? What happened? Is there something else they wanted to accuse me of?” She asks rolling her eyes. “Did I throw Timmy down the well?”

“No Xena this doesn’t have anything to do with the order and more of a personnel matter.” Lady Kima sighs. “I was given a vision... a dark one.”

Xena turns her head to Lady Kima, showing that she was paying attention. It wasn’t really all surprising that paladins got visions or messages from Bahamut it was just rare when they do give it so when one says they got a vision, you listen.

“I saw darkness taking root beneath Kraghammer, the dwarven city northeast of Emon in the Cliffkeep Mountains. I have been hiring a couple of mercenaries to accompany me into the mines and into the Underdark, and I want you to join me.” Just as she finished the sentence Xena choked back her drink.

Coughing a bit, wiping her mouth with her arm Xena looks over at Lady Kima in shock. “Okay first off you owe another ale, second of all wherein all your vision did it say ‘It’s dangerous to go alone, bring the half-orc that your order banished years ago!’ like seriously Kima.”

“Xena, the Order has nothing, absolutely nothing to do with my visions and they certainly have nothing to say about who I bring with me. Besides, in my vision; within the darkness, I saw a figure of a wolf within it, guiding me through the caves of the deep.”

There was a silence between the two.

“And the last murmurs I have heard here and in neighboring villages, that there is a half-orc wondering the area, helping the less fortunate, caring for those in need with the strength of ten men and eyes like a wolf, they call her Einn Ulfer... Lone Wolf, Now I wonder would such a person does not help her old mentor in her quest to suppress the darkness from taking hold in this world?” Lady Kima asks, gently placing it beside Xena’s hand.

Xena looks down at the object, taking a deep breath as she stares at her the most precious thing that was taken away from her, her holy symbol. The lizard her head purrs comfortingly, encouraging her to do what is right and help her Lady Kima.

Reaching over she picks up the symbol, grasping tightly to it as she feels the vibrating purrs in her head transfer slowly from her head down her body and into the item in her hand.

Xena sighs. “So, Kraghammer huh?”

Lady Kima smiles.

#critical role #vox machina #fanfiction #oc x canon

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seven-oomen · 3 years

Text

Hi, Ben! I hope your day is going well so far! Are you still getting snow, or has the storm calmed a bit? We’re supposed to be getting a potentially severe ice storm over the course of today. There’s already a thin layer this morning, we’ll see how the rest of the day goes. And temperatures are supposed to stay in about the -4 to -6C range the rest of the week. I’m very glad that I’m off the next couple of days, and managed to get by the grocery last night after work.

I saw your post about writing and writing styles! It was helpful because I’ve not really seen the different styles written out and explained before. I’m still not 100% which I am, but probably either an intuitive plotter or a methodological pantser. Usually there’s a scene or a line or two that I’m like “this needs to happen in this story” and everything else is fairly free-form. I did try actually writing down an outline for IYWTD, but even then it’s more a list of beats/tropes and the order I want to include them in. (And I’ve only just made it past halfway through, although a couple may need to be altered a bit, oh god, how did this get so long…)

It’s also always kinda of amusing to me how many of those writing advice lists are like “Don’t do this”, “Stop doing this”, “Never do that”, and then they’ll encourage you to find your own voice and style. Like, bitch, you just told me not to ever do half the shit that makes up my style. Which am I supposed to do? Damn. XD (You will seriously pry adverbs and similar descriptors from my cold, dead, grasping hands. Also the occasional epithet. No, I’m not using a character’s name nine times in one paragraph, sorry, and pronouns don’t always help if the characters are the same gender. The reader can deal. ;D )

And I feel ya on the tall, skinny, blue-eyed boys thing. It doesn’t have to be just a white boy, but if he’s taller than me, slender, and has a pretty pair of baby blues, my higher brain functions tend to go into insta-lag. I ain’t particularly proud, but I’ve long accepted this about myself (there are many reasons Luke became my forever BAE.) That’s not to say a lack of any of those is a deal-breaker in the slightest, but it’s definitely going to immediately get my attention.

Speaking (vaguely) of Luke, I had a thought the other day of him and Din being off on some planet together (Grogu is staying with Aunt Leia and Uncle Han for a few days), and there’s a noise in the middle of the night, and Din refuses to accept Luke’s assurance that there’s nothing out there, and in true himbo fashion insists on going out to investigate having grabbed only the darksaber and his helmet to cover his face -but nothing else. Luke just finds it a combo of hysterical and adorable (and kinda hot.)

I hope your novel is going well (whatever stage you happen to be at), and I’m always up for hearing whatever you feel like sharing about it.

I hope you’re still doing well with the whole eating and hydrating regularly thing (it’s also totally okay if you aren’t!), and I’m super proud of you for sticking to it as much as you can anyway. That shit is hard. (Also, ignore the 1500 calories thing, I swear that shit is designed for 130lb women trying to shed a few pounds, not people who need to safely and steadily lose larger amounts of weight. But then I’ve also never fully understood making someone lose weight before surgery, either. “We need you to get rid of some excess weight before we’ll okay this surgery to *checks notes* get rid of some excess weight." Like, weird flex, but okay.)

Anyway, I’m rambling again, and should really eat some breakfast and try to write a little myself today, maybe. Hope you’re feeling okay, and that things are going well overall. I hope Mo is doing well, and enjoying his best cuddle buddy life. Take care! *Hugs!*

Okay, gonna try this this way so that I can refer back to the links on my phone if need be. I couldn’t quite see the full entries for the physical descriptions, and when I tried clicking on them it kept asking for a login, but I think I saw enough to get the gist. I’m not sure exactly what sort of feedback you’re interested in, if any, so this will mainly be my usual sort of rambling stream-of-consciousness type thoughts and questions. Hope that’s okay. Feel free to ignore if it’s not what you’re after right now! :D

I think one of the first questions that popped to mind was where is/what happened to Ellie’s mom, and is that something that’s going to cause problems later in some way? (I.e.- was she killed on a hunt, are they divorced, was it bitter or amicable [would she come after her daughter if she heard about his relationship?]) I guess technically similar questions could also apply to Nate (late husband, ex-husband, ex-boyfriend, one night stand, sperm donor?) it was just more noticeable with Ellie being so young still. Although that could also be part of why he’s ended up in Wyoming, which was another question I had, although there I assume it’s hunt-related.

I also anticipate quite a bit of tension of all kinds when he and Nate first meet, because Faron strikes me from his descriptions as someone rather used to being able to get his own way either through the influence of who he is, or through his size (not necessarily in any kind of intentional or aggressive way, more in an unconscious privilege kind of way, if that makes sense?), and I don’t think Nate sounds like the type to give two shits about either of those things, and it would probably drive Faron up the proverbial wall that Nate isn’t intimidated by him in the slightest. (I could be entirely wrong about all this, this is just the impression I get so far. :D ) And I think Nate being noticeably older than him would just make it that much more irritating at first, too. Now, how long these impressions last will just depend on how quickly they get to know each other, and whether Bachelor #3 is helping or hindering things. XD The potential for just sitting back and watching the fireworks as “laid-back dad jokes with a quick temper” clashes with “quiet, reserved, and possibly takes themselves slightly too seriously” might prove too much for our last contestant for a while, depending on where his personality falls. ;D (Especially since Faron coming in and starting shit will likely come off as a direct threat to people and places Nate considers under his protection.)

Also, are any of these three going to have met before? Will Nate already have some sort of relationship with the werewolf (Does he already know about the supernatural at all?) Did he and Faron encounter each other on the trip to Europe you mentioned in the Life Highlights? If he and the wolf already know each other, how does he get along with Cas, or Nate’s pets? Is the werewolf also going to be native to the region? Does he know anything about Faron’s family? Does Faron already know he’s a werewolf, or is that going to be a bit of a crisis for him later? A test of how well he’s learned not to judge? If Nate doesn’t already know, how will he deal with both their secrets? Do you plan for full-shift only wolves, partial-shift only wolves, or a mix of the two like TW? Are there other supes in the area?

I think you mentioned maybe having him be of Native American descent? I think that could be very interesting, but would require a LOT of research into which tribes are active in the Yellowstone area, and what their individual mythologies say about things like shapeshifters, and LGTBQ+ issues, etc., because there can be a fair amount of variance, I’m sure. Also, I’m just overall curious how he’ll fit in with the other two size wise (get your mind out of the gutter, you know what I mean. XD ) Also curious if any o them are going to have the slightest clue on the feelings front, or are they all going to be just absolute disasters? Will the kids figure it out before they do? Will the kids get along? (Will BachelorWolf have any kids of his own, or just Nate and Faron?) Will Nate’s coworkers have any clue about either the supernatural, or what’s going on with those three? Because I suspect at least some of them will be way more obvious than they think they’re being. XD

Uh… I think that was all that’s occured to me right now?… I’m sorry you’re having a yucky day overall, and I hope tomorrow’s a bit better! The ice storm has finally moved in here, and I can feel the temperature drop radiating off of the front door and windows. It went from rain to freezing rain/hail and I’m not sure how long it’s supposed to last. Hopefully only a little while. Also, sorry your book was terrible. I haven’t seen too many recent recommendations from friends, and I’ve been mostly reading “cozy” mysteries (Agatha Christie, Elizabeth Peters, etc) as my comfort reading myself, lately, so I can’t really suggest anything in particular, unfortunately. At least, nothing I think you wouldn’t already know. Anyway, hope you’re getting some decent rest, and hope you have a better day tomorrow! Take care! *Hugs!*

Alright since this is going to be like a very long one, I’m break it down into a few things.

First full physical descriptions, cause I didn’t know Milanote would be a bitch about it.

Nate:

164 cm (5'4), 75 kg (166 lbs), Short slightly overweight trans man in his middle age. Nearly always the shortest man in the room, only standing around 5'4 and weighing in around 166 lbs. With kind moss green eyes that have permanent crow's feet in their corners and a polite but reserved smile always on his face.

A face that's framed by faint freckles that are only visible in the sunlight. A neatly trimmed beard spices up his features and frames his pink lips. His thick but short eyebrows frame his eyes and create a short arc to his slim nose.

A high forehead separates his brows from his wavy dark blond hair that's always tucked behind his ears.

He generally wears the Superintendents' Park Ranger uniform while on duty. When he's not he wears comfortable jeans and t-shirts, usually a mono color like green, white, or black, plaid flannel shirts, socks with the weirdest patterns and colors, and hiking boots. He wears a steel ring on his right index finger and has a little steel Mjolnir on a necklace around his neck.

He's missing two fingers (his ring and little finger) on his left hand due to a childhood accident.

Faron:

185 cm (6'1 ft), 93 kg (205 lbs), Faron is a tall man with plenty of muscle from his time hunting. He can seem daunting and intimidating when you first meet him but there is a kinder, softer side to him. He has a warm light brown skin color, blue eyes, and black natural tight curly hair that he keeps very short. His full dark beard decorates his cheeks and chin, connects to his upper lip, and all the way up to his sideburns.

He tends to wear dark clothing, leather jackets, no jewelry that could identify him, jeans, henley shirts, or V-neck shirts, and black, brown, or red jackets. He usually wears black combat boots or dark brown hiking boots. He's got knives and other weapons hidden all over his body and pockets and it might take him a good few minutes to unload every single knife from his body when he was to disarm.

There are also scars all over his body, including some scars on his neck that are visible from day to day life. He had the bad luck of being struck down by a vicious Wendigo but managed to escape. He survived thanks to his sister's quick thinking and first aid.

He covers some of those scars up with tattoos; he has one tattoo of a dragon laying down on his shoulder, with its head on his chest and its body curling over his shoulder and ending just below his shoulder blades. And one tattoo covers up some scars on his lower arm, it's a tattoo of a wolf's head that covers up a bite mark.

Dichali:

He’s 37 and has 4 siblings, and two children, Kajika & Kaniya (Jika & Niya, identical twins, but one of them identifies as male, he’s trans. Kajika is his chosen/reassigned name. They are 10.) Dichali grew up in Riverton, WY, which is the largest town of 10,000 in the largest Native Reservation in Wyoming. He’s also a dear friend to our Nate (who is also his boss technically) and has slowly been falling in love with him for the last few years. (Although he still hasn’t realized that he loves his friend.)

Yena, his coworker and friend, who’s much younger at 25 has been watching her coworker and her boss joke and dance around each other. She has a betting pool with her girlfriend on who snaps first.

Not sure how I’ll connect him to Faron if it’s more fun/better to have him find out later or to already know him and keep it quiet.

I’m still working on him, so I don’t have much of personality and other things written down yet. But I have made his physical description:

At 178 cm (5'8) and 83 kilos (182 lbs) Dichali probably isn't the tallest man you've met, he's also not the shortest. And while he's got some good muscle on him from working as a Park Ranger, and being a werewolf, he also has some softer sides. All the better to cuddle with. He has long straight brown hair that falls to his mid-back and deep brown eyes and a long nose that ends prominently. His eyebrows are thin and he has a high forehead. His skin is a light Tawny color, there's a hint of an orange brown with a cool undertone.

His skin is also relatively clear and youthful looking because of his lycanthropy.

He tends to wear pants and jackets made by native designers and always incorporates native fashion into his outfits. He has jackets of mostly gray, blue, brown, and black colors made of denim, cotton, wool, or brass that are lined with more traditional cloths and patterns like the designer brand Ginew. Usually he pairs them with dark jeans, either black, gray, or dark blue. He pairs it with white, blue, red, black, or printed band t-shirts (Metallica, Green Day, Marianas Trench).

For shoes he has brown hiking boots that are part of the Ranger uniform, more western styled boots like black cowboy boots, and a pair of sneakers.He also wears a copper bracelet with lighting bolts etched into it.

Now this whole story got started because I had the question what if we had a DILF romance going on while/because the following happened?

What if a YouTube video that accidentally got uploaded shows the existence of a werewolf in Yellowstone park? Threatening to expose the entire supernatural world.

The werewolves right now are a mix, so half shift is like the classical half shift of a wolf head on a man’s body, but the full shift is more like a larger wolf. Almost the size of a black bear. Though I might change those ideas as the story progresses.

But that is how the Cryptid of Yellowstone is brought into the world. And that brings problems. Big problems.

Wendigos, vampires, djins, I plan to create a world where a lot of supernatural creates exist. From all sorts of cultures. I’m also toying with the idea of Kelpies and Griffins. That kind of stuff.

The supernatural world is hidden from ours, hidden in plain sight if you will. Most encounters are written off as really strange, sometimes a picture pops up, but with the coming of the internet, things have gotten more complicated. Also with deforestation and competition with regular wildlife has made some bigger supernatural creatures either extinct or thought to be extinct. They’re not sure what still lives in Australia, though.

Nate or his son don’t know about the supernatural world. Neither does Yena. Or much of the world. Dichali, his children (to some extent), Faron, and Faron’s family do know about this world.

Alright, as for your other post XD

Right now it’s no longer storming but due to the freezing temperatures the snow’s not going away and all public transport and delivery services are still not driving/delivering/running. So that’s neat. Not.

I swear we get some snow and the country is just down. Upside, ain’t nobody going outside and this helps with lockdown.

I hope your snowstorm won’t be too bad and everything thaws down soon. Snow’s fun for a day but after that...

Make sure you stay warm alright? And bundle up.

Yes dad... alright XD

Honestly, I’m glad to hear you liked my advice too. I’m getting quite a bit of positive feedback on it and that just makes me really happy ^^. I’m definitely writing more writing advice from everything I’ve learned so far.

There’s honestly so many contradicting ones out there, it’s a matter of picking and choosing which ones work best for you and applying those. And that’s the real trick of advice.

Fun fact, a lot of famous writers are also pantsers. Steven King, Neil Gaiman, George RR Martin are examples of famous pantsers or gardeners as they are also called.

John Grisham, JK Rowling, RL Stein fall into the plotter or architect category.

Writers like Hank Green seem to fall in the in-between category of plantser (somewhere between a plotter and a pantser. Or the Intuitive plotter.)

Okay but the DinLuke things is really really kinda hot and cute and adorable and has me smiling <3

And I can’t remember what else I wanted to say since it is like 2 am and my meds are seriously kicking in now.

But I hope you’re doing alright and that the snowstorm isn’t too bad where you’re at.

I’ll be alright, my diet hasn’t been going so well the last few days and I can’t really exercise, but I did mostly get healthy groceries that will be delivered friday so there’s that.

Fingers crossed I can pick it back up.

Okay I’m heading to bed XD

I’ll talk to you later, B <3

Hugs from me and Mo <3

#my ocs #please don't reblog #B #my convos with anon #ben writes original fiction #submission

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mikauzoran · 4 years

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LuXY/Lukadrien/Lukadrienette: Welcome to La-La Land: Chapter Four

@luxyweek

Welcome to La-La Land: Chapter Four: Kwami “Swap”

“Dude. I can’t believe you’ve never had nacho cheese,” XY snorted, sounding personally insulted at this failure on Luka’s part.

Luka winced. “I’m sorry?”

“Don’t worry. I’m coming over there to fix this,” XY assured. “Where are you? The Liberty? Your place?”

“My apartment, but—”

“—No buts,” XY cut him off. “Six-Strings, this is an emergency. I’ll be right there.”

XY rang off, and all Luka could do was wait. He’d learned over the past two months of hanging out with Xavier-Yves Roth that once XY got an idea in his head, he was going to act upon it, and no one could stop him.

Luka got up off of his couch and went to change into something more flattering than the laundry he’d been lounging around the flat in.

“What kind of cheese is this?” Luka frowned at the golden liquid drowning the tortilla chips.

XY shrugged and replied with a full mouth, “Velveeta, I think.”

Luka blinked, pulled out his phone, and opened up a Google search.

“…Velveeta is not a cheese,” he hissed a minute later once he’d read the Wikipedia article.

XY frowned. “Sure it is. America is known for this stuff. It’s even more popular than American cheese.”

Luka pinched the bridge of his nose, imagining how Plagg would shriek if he found out. “I have a friend who would be personally offended if he heard you call this cheese. Like, he’d go on the rant.”

XY waved away Luka’s protestations. “Try it already. It’s delicious.”

With a sigh, Luka picked up a chip laden with the cheese-adjacent substance and brought it to his lips. It definitely wasn’t as bad as he’d been expecting, but the suspect origin of the product kind of unsettled him. He preferred his food fresh and from an identifiable source. Maybe he’d been spoiled on getting his food from street markets and local cheese mongers and butchers, but this super-processed, plastic-looking not-cheese kind of weirded him out.

“It’s okay,” he allowed, taking another bite and trying to get over himself. “Thank you for sharing.”

“‘Okay’?” XY snorted indignantly. “Dude, this is a delicacy from my homeland. It’s more than just okay. Your taste buds are whack.”

Luka paused with another chip halfway to his mouth, and a glob of the “cheese” dribbled off the side, landing with a splat on the kitchen table. “Wait. Your homeland? But…you’re French.”

XY’s eyebrow shot straight up into his hairline. “Dude. I’m American.”

Luka blinked. “No, you’re not. Xavier-Yves, your name is French. You speak French. You’ve lived here your whole life.”

“Uh, noooo.” He sang the word on an upswing. “Six-Strings, what’s my dad’s name?”

Luka frowned. “…Bob Roth?”

It suddenly occurred to him that that wasn’t a typical French name.

“Right.” XY nodded. “My mom’s French, but my dad is American. He had to take French in high school, and when his class went on a trip to Paris, he fell in love with the place, so he was back and forth a lot after that. That’s how he met my mom.”

“Oh,” Luka remarked, suddenly feeling rather dumb for never having known this about a guy he’d been periodically making out with for two whole months.

“I was born in the Bronx and didn’t move to France until I was ten. Why do you think my French sounds so funky?” XY laughed at himself. “My mom spoke to me in French a little when I was a kid, but my parents divorced when I was really young, and she moved back to France, so I didn’t start learning French for real until I was ten. I know I speak it all the time now because I’ve pretty much lived here the past twenty years, but it’s not my first language. I didn’t learn it at home, so it’s not, you know, natural like it probably was for you.”

“Oh,” Luka repeated, seeing XY’s occasionally odd speech patterns in a new light.

Luka knew from his experiences learning Russian and English that no matter how good you got at a second or third language, it was never quite the same as speaking your mother tongue.

A thought occurred to Luka: “But…wasn’t it hard, transitioning from school in the US to school in France, if you didn’t speak French?”

XY gave a mirthless snort. “Hell yeah, it was. I had to go to special classes the first few years, and by the time I was ready to join the French school system, kids my age were way ahead of me, so I got put with a class of younger kids.”

Luka winced, trying to imagine how ostracizing that must have been to be dumped in a country where he didn’t speak the language, didn’t have any friends his age, didn’t have a supportive parent.

“I’m sorry. I bet that was awful,” he mumbled hollowly, not sure what else to say.

He felt bad for sometimes thinking that XY was kind of dumb. Luka had thought that maybe XY wasn’t inclined to academia and that his father hadn’t helped matters, but from the situation that XY described, it sounded like things had been stacked against him from the start. No wonder XY hadn’t thrived in that situation.

XY nodded, scooping up more yellow gloop onto a chip. “I hated it. I quit school as soon as I could when I was sixteen, and then I started focusing on my music for real—well…that wasn’t really until I was eighteen, after the incident with you, but…sixteen was when I started putting out tracks and made my debut and everything.”

“I don’t blame you for quitting,” Luka hummed, picking up a tortilla chip and tapping it against the plate to get some of the excess goo off. “I probably would have quit as soon as possible too…. Do you ever think about going back to the US?”

XY shrugged. “As much as I miss America, Paris is kind of my home now. I go back to visit every year, and I’ve toured there before for stretches, but I think I’m happy in Paris.”

He gave Luka a look that felt almost soft as he added, “My life is here.”

“Yeah,” Luka agreed. “I could visit other places, but I couldn’t stay away too long. My family is here…and all the people I care about.”

XY nodded. “…Speaking of your fam, they’ve never had nacho cheese either, have they?”

“Prune, I’m sorry to slight your cultural heritage, but you’re not feeding my family this stuff. Juleka will hate you,” Luka warned, trying to cut things off before it got to that point.

“Hate me more,” XY corrected. “Rose and your ma would probably get a kick out of it, though.”

Luka hummed as he picked up another chip and tapped off some of the cheese-impersonator. “Maman is part Scottish on her mother’s side, so she grew up eating gross things like sheep offal wrapped in stomach. She probably wouldn’t have a problem with this…uh…Velveeta…substance. Rose, however, being a Frenchwoman, might be offended that this product is masquerading as cheese.”

XY shrugged. “I’ll make nachos for Anarka to try, and the rest of us can have Taco Tuesday. Rose is a little carnivore. She’ll love it.”

“Taco Tuesday?” Luka repeated, tipping his head to the side.

“Yeah. It’s like a religious holiday in America for people who don’t have a religion. Every Tuesday we have Mexican food,” XY explained.

Luka frowned, mentally questioning the authenticity of the “Mexican” food but afraid to challenge XY again. “Everyone in the US does this?”

XY nodded. “It’s a big deal. They make t-shirts.”

Somehow Luka had missed this aspect of US culture.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” XY exclaimed suddenly. “After we clean up, remind me that I have a surprise for you.”

The surprise turned out to be leather pants.

XY hijacked Luka’s bathroom and came out wearing leather pants with a cyan, teal, and dark green pattern.

It was a pattern Luka knew well, and not only because he was romantically involved with the designer.

“They’re based on Viperion’s suit!” XY informed needlessly, doing a little turn to show off the backside.

XY had a magnificent backside, and the leather pants only flaunted this fact.

“You know. The snake hero?” XY pressed, and Luka realized that he was waiting for a response.

“Yeah. I remember him,” Luka assured, admiring the way the material clung to XY’s thighs.

It was an aesthetically pleasing sight.

“You really rock those, by the way,” Luka added, knowing the praise would be appreciated.

As expected, XY puffed out his chest and strutted with a little more confidence and attitude.

“Yeah, I do look pretty dope, don’t I?” He crowed.

“Very dope,” Luka affirmed, checking out XY’s calves.

In all honesty, Luka found that a person’s butt was the physical feature that most attracted him after he’d fallen for someone emotionally. Marinette did this butt wiggle that made Luka lose his mind, and Adrien in skinny jeans was akin to a religious experience.

XY definitely had a nice butt.

“That dude was always my favourite,” XY remarked, pulling Luka from his thoughts. “I always thought Viperion+ was super cool.”

“Y-You did?” Luka could feel his face starting to color.

“Mmhm.” XY turned again and started on another lap of Luka’s living room. “I was really excited when Jagged mentioned that his niece made these Viperion-inspired pants. I got a pair for you too.”

All the warm fuzzies immediately fled from Luka’s system.

Maybe XY would-n’t make him put them on now.

“I want to see you in them,” XY quickly squashed that hope, going over to his bag and pulling out a pair for Luka. “Go change,” he instructed, tossing the pants so that Luka had no choice but to catch them.

“Thanks,” Luka replied, attempting to sound excited. “That’s really thoughtful of you.”

Luka headed to the bathroom to change, hoping that XY wouldn’t recognize him just from the lower half.

“Niiiiiiice!” XY cheered, giving Luka a wolf whistle as he came back into the front room. “Give us a turn. I want to see that tush.”

“Oh my gosh,” Luka groaned, covering his face with his hands as he turned around as asked.

XY stiffened, staring dumbly at Luka’s butt. He bit out a guttural curse.

Luka dropped his hands and turned to look at XY in concern. “What? What happened?”

It took XY a minute to form coherent sentences. “Just… Could you…? Could you turn around again and walk away?”

Luka slowly turned and strode away from XY.

XY clapped a hand over his mouth and cursed again.

“What’s wrong?” Luka demanded, beginning to panic as he went over to XY on the couch.

XY’s face was so red that he looked like he was going to spring a nosebleed at any second.

He shook his head. “Just…I’ve spent a lot of time looking at pictures of Viperion’s butt.”

Luka’s hand paused en route to XY’s cheek. He blinked slowly.

XY gulped, keeping his hand clamped firmly over his mouth. “You can go ahead and deny it, if you want, but…you were Viperion, weren’t you?”

Luka opened his mouth but then closed it. “…I’m willing to bet that that’s the first time anyone’s ever had their secret identity outted by their behind. Obviously, you can’t tell anyone.”

XY cursed again. Internally, he was jumping up and down because the hero he’d had a massive crush on for the longest time was none other than his boyfriend. He was dating a superhero!!!

“Xavier-Yves,” Luka called, redirecting his attention. “I’m totally serious. You have to promise not to tell.”

XY nodded vehemently.

Luka sighed, sinking down on the couch next to XY and running a hand through his hair.

A thought occurred to XY: “It’s not weird that I’ve stared at pictures of your butt, is it?”

Luka contemplated this briefly but decided that he wasn’t one to judge, considering the amount of time he himself had spent ogling Adrien and Marinette.

He shrugged. “No. I mean, that would be kind of unfair of me, especially since I was just staring at your butt as you paraded around in those pants.”

XY burst out in a fit of giggles. “No way! Seriously?”

“Yep,” Luka came clean, admitting to his attraction. “You have a nice butt.”

XY squealed in delight, making Luka chuckle.

“…Can I…” XY bit his lip. He was feeling deliriously happy, and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin it, but… “Can I stay the night?”

Luka gave a slight start. He opened his mouth to reply, but XY cut him off.

“—Sorry! I know you don’t sleep with people you’re not in love with, and that’s fine. That’s not what I’m asking,” he rushed to explain. “I’m asking…do you maybe want to have movie night and then make out and snuggle?”

Luka took a deep breath and considered for all of five seconds before he nodded. “All right.”

It sounded like exactly the kind of evening that Luka wanted to have.

#LuXY #luxyweek2k20 #Lukadrien #Lukadrienette #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Luka Couffaine/XY Roth #Luka Couffaine #XY #Xavier-Yves Roth #Mikau's Writings #Welcome to La-La Land

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lovecraftian-druid · 4 years

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Pactborn V

The clear, ringing sound of eight bells echoed out across the cool air hovering above the Turquoise Waves as midnight brought the moons to their highest point in the sky that evening. Putting out his pipe prematurely at the sound, a scruffy half-orc midshipman straightened from his leaning position against a mast, pulled his jacket tighter across his chest, and made for the top of the stairs to fetch his relief. “Bahriin!” You’re on watch!” he hollered down below deck.

Startled and exhausted, Ka’l rose from her hammock, staggering for the first few paces as she woke up and regained her balance. Scratching the sleep from her eyes as she searched about for her sandals, the fifteen-year-old groggily made for the main deck to take second watch for the third night in a row. The slight chill in the air was a welcomed aid to staying awake as she was passed the lantern, its warmth too kind to do anything more than make her want to fall back asleep.

As a way to keep her mind occupied, she unfolded her green fleece over her lap, rubbing one of the corners of it between her forefinger and thumb as she practiced the newest piece of magic she had recently realized she could cast: whispering the incantations, she swallowed back tears as she produced a minor illusion of Jida's smiling face, jolly with its deep-set wrinkles, just the way she remembered it. She practiced in this way for an hour or more, looking up every few minutes at first to scan the waters from up in her crow's nest; however, she eventually became so focused in her practices that she didn't notice the air grow thick with fog…or the ship that silently floated ever closer to the Golden Afternoon.

Ka'l felt her concentration disturbed as the sound of three bells brought her mind back to the task at hand: keeping an eye on the waters. With the jarring realization that the mist had swept in upon them, she fumbled for her telescope and felt her heart beating in her temples as she scanned the horizon, cursing under her breath at her accidental negligence.

There are times one genuinely hopes or prays for the best in a stressful situation, and then there are times when one already knows that the worst is about to come, no matter how much supplication they offer up to otherworldly entities: the latter is exactly what Ka’l was experiencing at that moment as her brass eyeglass fell upon the tattered sails that bore the face of a crudely-painted canine amid azure waves. Her heart jumped up into her suddenly dry throat as she realized what was about to take place, knowing there was nothing she could do now to stop it - she leapt from the crow’s nest, partly riding down the soggy wooden pole before latching onto a rope to swing the rest of the way to the deck as she yelled at the top of her lungs, “PIRATES! PIRATES OFF THE STARBOARD SIDE! BEAT TO QUARTERS!”

Tripping over her own feet as she ran, head racing, Ka’l desperately rang the deck’s bell, summoning all hands to the main deck. As a few sailors surfaced from below, she watched as the ship sailed ever closer into range, ignoring any effort to provide a suitable berth for safe passage around them. Standing at the helm, with one boot casually perched against the rail as he leaned out over the front of the boat, a calico-furred tabaxi eyed the merchant vessel with visible hunger. Ka’l watched with dread as he raised a curved blade in the air - holding in there for a moment or two - before lowering it in her ship’s direction as he shouted, “Lock it down!”

Stunned by what she was witnessing, Ka’l stood there, immovable, as the light from three fireballs glistened as distance tangerine reflections in her eyes before something rock-solid blindsided her, sending her slim frame skittering along the deck. Disoriented and alarmed, she rolled over to meet Mica’s gaze, his grey-brown skin tough as gravel matched his commanding tone as he motioned and yelled for her to stay down. He had not yet finished his last word before - boom! boom! boom! - the blazing balls of fire crashed into the sides of the ship, scorching a hole right through the hold and incinerating one of the masts’ sails.

Debris rained down from above, some of it still burning hot with flames, as Ka’l covered her head in fear, still prone from Mica’s heroic tackle. As she lifted her head to assess the damage, her eyes took in the all too efficient havoc that was being wrought upon the Golden Afternoon: mages of substantial abilities flew in from the pirate ship as though they had wings; others appeared out of thin air upon the deck, carrying others with them though a dimension-like door; the remaining swashbucklers swung from long tethered ropes from one ship to the other, effortlessly boarding the now smoldering vessel as her ill-equipped sailors tried in vain to defend themselves.

Lost in a moment of despair, Ka’l did not notice until she reached her hand out to grab Mica’s that the young genasi boy was not moving. “M--Mica?” Ka’l stuttered, convinced that her eyes had deceived her. “Mica, c’mon, we need to get out of here...please, grab my hand…” She tried to pull in out from under the splintered piece of mast that had fallen in the initial chaos, but she was unable to pull him from beneath. Wiping the soot from her face, she crouched low, covering him from the torso up with the green fleece, its warmth no longer needed as the ship sweated with high-burning flames.

Ka’l darted between one-on-one battles that were taking place, calling as she ran, “Darja! Darja! Where are you?!” Escaping below deck, she found him, wet with fearful perspiration and muttering pointless positivities to himself as he rocked back and forth in his velvet-upholstered chair. “They’re taking the ship! Why aren’t you up there with us?” Ka’l rebuked, her voice catching a bit in escalating anguish. “We need you right now! Get upstairs!” Her skin hot with anger, Ka’l felt a foreign sensation rising up within her as a darkness - not yet unearthed - welled inside her, ready to explode like a geyser. She felt the daggers her eyes threw at Darja as he quickly stood to his feet, seemingly more shaken by her sudden change of aura than by the situation at hand. It was strange, but Ka’l sensed as though she had a literal shroud of darkness surrounding her at that moment, unsure of what would happen if she didn’t pull herself together.

“I--I--I understand, I’ll make my way up to see if I can reason with their captain,” Darja stammered, knocking over several items on his desk as his hands fumbled about, seeking guidance for a path while his eyes remained locked on Ka’l, “perhaps we can come to some sort of a parlay...I’ll be off now,” he trailed off, backing away towards the ladder in an effort to keep a visual on the young Ghaanian.

Taking but a moment to steady herself, Ka’l scaled the ladder shortly after. Noticing that the brief battle aboard the deck had come to a stand-still, she scanned the crowd of pirates and sailors until she locked eyes on that which she sought: the calico-furred pirate. He dressed neatly yet informally, but there was no mistaking him for anything other than the ship’s captain - he had a certain air to him, a swagger in his step, a cool and calm tone in his voice. “Greetings, all: I know the hour is late, so I won’t keep you long - my name is K’Sirr, captain of the Sea Wolf. I’m sure we all want to head back to our warm beds or, I don’t know, put out some fires perhaps; but before we move on to more exciting things, I must have a word with your captain…” He gave a pause, his green eyes scanning the audience for anyone who might step forward, before adding, “Come, come now, don’t be shy, we truly don’t want anyone to get hurt - we simply need to arrange for some goods to be exchanged.”

Ka’l could tell that her breathing had leveled out, and for that she was thankful. She stayed ducked behind a small panel, peering out to get a view on the crew: to the best of her knowledge, everyone was there and alive, save for Mica and Darja. Sliding around to the opposite side, she craned her neck as far as she dared to check for any stow-aways near the deck closet - sure enough, too plump to wedge himself inside and be able to close the door, Darja stood, trembling, hunched awkwardly in the small cubby space. Her ears steaming with rage, Ka’l could have sworn she heard a low, silky voice in her head saying, “Why should he get to hide from fate?” Without more than a second thought, Ka’l felt her hands waving and arching in sharp staccato motions as she conjured up a translucent arcane hand, oddly shaped like a tiger’s claw. Raising her right hand to her face, she thrust her fist into the open area in front of her and swatted at the air, watching her mage hand do the same as it opened the door, causing Darja to spill out onto the ground with a loud thud.

K’Sirr’s feline eyes dilated as his head turned in a flash to zero in on Darja’s stout form, now floundering to right himself amid the buckets and mops that tumbled out with him. His eyes locked onto a set of leather boots as he slowly turned his gaze upwards at the tabaxi man towering over him. “Am I to presume that you are the captain of this fine vessel?” purred K’Sirr, his words thick with sarcasm. Darja’s jaw hung open as he stammered, looking as though he could wet himself at any moment: this gave Ka’l a satisfaction she had not realized she craved.

Then it happened - whether it was an attempt at flight or a foolish desire to fight, Darja pulled from his vest a small dagger and lunged for the pirate’s chest; K’Sirr, however, was quick to react and his kukri streaked out just in time, causing Darja to inadvertently spear himself on it as he tried to rush the calico tabaxi man. A little surprised himself, K’Sirr held him there for a moment before withdrawing his sword. “What a shame,” he commented softly, sounding genuinely disappointed as he wiped his blade off on a handkerchief he produced from one of his pockets, “I was really hoping to avoid anyone getting seriously hurt tonight…”

Ka’l hardly had time to react as the pirate captain’s eyes shot in her direction, meeting hers and causing her to jump. She tried unsuccessfully to dock behind some crates, knowing full well that she had been spotted. Still, she heard the captain call out to his men, “Take only what we need, leave the rest and tend to the wounded…” he trailed off for a moment before continuing at a louder volume, “so sorry about the mess, all - we’ll be out of your hair as quickly as possible.” Ka’l held her breath as she heard the steady-paced foot falls of the tabaxi’s boots. Bracing for the worst, she pulled her knees up close to her chest and waited for the inevitable. There was a second of stillness before K’Sirr’s gentle voice met her ears: “Come on now, you’re tougher than this,” were his first words to her. She looked up to finally meet his gaze - his eyes were kindly but wild, a creature seeking only excitement and adventure. He extended his hand out towards hers as he continued, “I saw you earlier, before this all began - you would have stared down three fireballs if it hadn’t been for that lad who pushed you out of the way.” He let a stifled chuckle slip at the memory, but Ka’l felt her anger flare with a monstrous passion.

“You killed him...you said you didn’t want to hurt anyone, but you killed him, he’s dead...he tried to save me, and now he’s dead....” Ka’l bit back tears as the words spilled from her mouth - she was without fear in this moment, unconcerned of her own safety and mindful only of the injustice dealt to her closest friend aboard the ship.

K’Sirr’s facial features shifted once more to that of great concern. Ka’l heard him call over his shoulder in the direction of one of his men as they hauled a large sack from the hold: “I need you to send for Sasha at once, GO.” He got down on one knee as he spoke two words very softly - “Show me.”

Ka’l got to her feet and led him to the fallen mast. She pulled back the fleece blanket to reveal the young boy, still pinned beneath the weight of the wooden pole. A half-elf woman with upwards of ten small hoop earrings in each ear came rushing over to K’Sirr’s side then dropped to her knees once she laid eyes on the boy. Her hands moved swiftly and deftly; Ka’l watched on in amazement as the woman pressed her fingers to his neck and announced, “He’s still alive, but he’s barely breathing - I’ll do my best.” Clutching a serpentine amulet that dangled loosely from around her neck, the half-elf pirate whispered a prayer as a wave of positive energy washed over Mica, and Ka’l sighed in relief when she heard him take a large gasp of air.

Finally able to move, Mica weakly leaned out toward Ka’l as she fell into his arms for a tight embrace. Ka’l hardly heard the woman as she got to her feet to make for the pirate ship. She turned to express her gratitude but saw only K’Sirr standing there with his arms crossed in front of himself, happy to see that the boy had pulled through. Low but still meaningful, Ka’l produced a quick “thanks” and extended her hand for a shake. The tabaxi pirate obliged her and placed his other hand over hers as they shook.

Bending his head to meet Ka’l’s averted gaze, he asked, “What are you doing here with these sailors? I sense you want something more from the sea, and I can teach you how to get it - what say you? Fancy an extended tour aboard the Sea Wolf? You’ll see places you never knew existed and become rich beyond your wildest dreams...we need only find the treasures this world has hidden for us to seek after.” He waited for a reply, but no words came from Ka’l as she stood there, staring off into nothingness as white smoke from extinguished flames mingled with the fog. “Well, can’t say I didn’t offer...it was nice to meet you…” His voice trailed off, anticipating a name to be given. No answer came. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it then,” he finished and turned to leave, walking back towards the gang planks that had been dropped to bridge the two ships.

Ka’l stood there, her mind clouded with indecision. Rich beyond your wildest dreams...what if? What if she could lay up enough gold to return home, move Jido, Jida, and Mama to Felgra to be closer to Papa’s fleet, help purchase a beautiful house? But how could she justify becoming one of the very things that Papa and his men fight so hard to combat?

K’Sirr boarded his vessel, assuming his position near the wheel as the rest of his crew made preparations to set sail again while the few remaining stragglers finished dragging their plunder up into their ship. He pulled a cold sum of sea breeze into his lungs, satisfied with his crew’s haul, when he felt a tap on his shoulder: turning his head, his eyes fell on Ka’l, her two different-colored eyes welling with tears. “It’s Ka’l...my name is Ka’l…” she blurted out as she choked back her emotions, still unsure of her decision.

“Ka’l...is that short for Ka’lya?” he asked, unable to hide a grin. She glanced down and to the side with a frustrated nod. “Alright,” K’Sirr resumed, “well, I’ll call you Ka’l since that’s what you seem to prefer - now what do you say we go find some treasure?”

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Thanks again for any and all who take the time to read - as the backstory of Ka’l Bahriin progresses towards a natural cliffhanger, I’ll be gearing up to introduce another PC next, so stay tuned. If you’d like to be added to the taglist for these installments, let me know.

Ye Olde Taglist: @serenewrites, @mayvinwrites

#writeblr #Fantasy Writing #DnD #DnD PC #character development #character backstories #BtFM #aasimar #warlock #pirate #Ka'l #K'Sirr

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heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon · 4 years

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Name: Moon or Rose, sometimes Luna to people who have known me for a long time

Zodiac Sign: Virgo

Height: I honestly can’t remember what they said last time they measured me an it wasn’t even “accurate” because slouching and hunching and scoliosis but my mother did it again when I was in bed and she had a tape measure and I’m 4′8 I think? :D

Languages: English

Nationality: Irish (American...Long Island)

Favorite Fruit: Rasberries, Strawberries, Pomegranate, Tomatos, Cherries

Favorite Sent: Roses, Fresh dirt, Gardens, plants and Flowers, any type of wood, rain, popcorn, Curry, (never actually tried but WANT TO) any type of hot beverage, any type of bake goods out the oven ..

Favorite colors: Black, purples and blues, ESPECIALLY the dark ones, any type greens ......... Also reds and pinks .......

Favorite Animal: Rat’s and rodents, always, ever since I was little ... Bats, Owls, bigger felines and canines (Lions, Tigers, Wolf’s, Etc.) Smaller Cats and Dogs, (Striped cats, fluffy cats, black cats, pit-bulls and SPINX’S are my favorites cause those are the ones that I have expect for the last one) Frogs and toads too,... opossums, chinchillas, squirrels, eye-eyes, pigs, rabbits, ravens, crows, in a certain way spiders, bees, moths, butterflies, fox’s, minks, lemurs.... skunks. flamingo’s, swans....lady bugs, crickets fireflies , goats....turtles, Gryphons ....(Far underrated and superior to dragons, this a fact not an opinion.)

And I’m about to admit this VERY, EXTREMELY begrudgingly and through my longest sigh ever but ... Deer? I just freaking. Wrote out an whole entire separate thing concerning my.... complicated perspective on deer and I had to copy and paste it into an entirely different document because I talked for way to long, but it’s gotten to the point where I have this desperate need to just ... vent of what this animal has become for me and what they mean to me, because this has currently became something that has made my heartache the more and more I’ve tried to pretend it does not effect me and I will say that it’s been a long time coming and as of recently I can no longer afford to avoid how much...So um. I’ve decided that this may be the year... That ...I am finally going to talk about this. Of course not like, right /now/ this minute ... But I will say in short that like, I live by a lot of deer and they’ve always been a part of my life for better or worse, and I could never really escape them or the part they’ve played in my life, hurting or healing, even if I wanted to. So, I say that, if I ever got the opportunity to observe one up close in my chair or feed a doe from my hand or hold a baby fawn or do anything like that with supervision in a moment, I totally would, in a heartbeat, without question. Even though from far away it hurts to think about the relationship I’ve had with them through who I was connected to. I refuse disrespect this animal just because someone who I loved who loved them hurt me once. Does that make sense? Sometimes.... Certain things that hurt you can also heal you. I’ve realized recently that I’m still not over how much I’ve been hurting. But that doesn’t mean that deer haven’t also, in their own way, been helping me heal. And I’m just thankful they exist for that because I’ve also learned through many narratives throughout the years, at in watching animation, how deer can have so many different sides to them and they don’t always have to be so interpreted as so “good” and “pure” and righteous and ...., ugh. As everyone projects to be, and I’ve always like to think that’s that’s helped keep a nuanced perspective of what’s happened to me throughout the years even as certain events were taking place and for that... I’ll always love and respect deer as an animal themself.

As a character, trope though, I’ve always observed that they’ve always been these fucking, self important, entitled a-holes who always assume that they’re charming enough to deserve your time, and think they can just come and go in and out of your life as they please and are far too proud of themselves to admit when they are wrong and will never apologize to you ever until they are pushed and until then, they just keep popping in and out of your life to vex and annoy you and ......

Mm.

Tastes like perspective.

Anyway, I’m writing something for later.

Maybe.

This is something I’ve been thinking about a lot.

First time sharing any inkling of my emotions about deer.

I’m honestly so afraid about what this and the other post will entail for later, my other deer tail, if you will.

I’ll stop talking about deer before this gets weird.

You have no ideer......

Last pun until next post, promise.

Coffee, Tea or Hot Chocolate: My silly abled assistant worker got me addicted to coffee again before she had me institutionalized and soaking in my own piss for four days because she didn’t understand how hospitals worked, and then they cut her hours when she was about to abandon me in what was basically a nursing home for and after a month I started trying to explain to her and my caseworker that I wasn’t feeling very well and they basically laughed at me and told me I was dirty and so yeah I spent my 25th birthday in a nursing home with an infection that I didn’t know I had and then one of the staff yelled at me for allowing this nice hyper boy who lived there to help push my crappy black manual wheelchair (you know the one) and practically tossed me out of my wheelchair to get me to what she wanted and then accused me of soiling myself when she was removing my clothes for the shower when I was on the toilet and then started screaming at me again and accusing me of lying when I asked her why she thought I had an accident and then she slammed the door and abandoned me in the bathroom when I wouldn’t give her the answer that she wanted and then I had a breakdown ... So I decided to use my mom’s birthday as an excuse to come home and check what was going with me and get some real food and I told my assistant and my caseworker and they basically laughed at me and said was a bad idea and told me I was dirty again and then I was punished and taken home for being “rude” and “too emotional” but not before the assistant worker brought me some crappy bitter ass coffee flavored fudge when the rocky road was right next to it because she was some vegan ass “straight ally” one year younger then me with a 29 year old boyfriend millennial who “missed my birthday” and complained about how miserable I was and how wasn’t enjoying the pumpkin farm which she originally wasn’t even gonna take me through, because my caseworker insisted that she cancel plans and bring me back to the nursing home as punishment for calling my mother. So when she DID bring me back after arguing with me for being ungrateful enough to not enjoy a place that she didn’t even wanna take me, she left me parked on the living room carpet, instead of bringing back into the dining room where my laptop was set up, like she’d normally do, said “good luck with your mom”, and left. Then, it took me about an hour to wheel myself off of the carpet, find someone to help me to the bathroom, and get me the phone to call my mom back and tell her it was okay to pick me up.

I come home, discover I have a lump in my left breast which is benign but still hasn’t gone away, go to the doctor, and it turns out I had two infections.

My mom seemed prepared to let me go back to the group home if I wanted to but after I told the doctor what happened with the staff worker the day after my birthday and the night before I called. The doctor told me that I wasn’t safe at the group home ether and ordered that I go back home with my mom and stay there.

So I’m back home now.

Two months.

And of course my caseworker shit on me for THAT.

And of course she informed me that my assistant worker quit on me.

And I still haven’t spoken to my father since I’ve been back here.

And I still have the scar he gave me.

And I’m still trying to ween myself off of coffee.

But before all of this my go to warm drinks were usual tea or hot chocolate. Sometimes hot chocolate with liquor.

My tongue went numb for a time because that was the first thing that I did non- stop each day for like four days after the day I finally finished my meds and my period hit immediately (which is already a whole other nightmare that I was dreading having to go through in a nursing home when everything already felt fucking inflamed and swollen and infected with already visible particles of dried up soap.... because.... it was ......)

But like, yeah...... Tea and Hot Chocolate!

Dream Trip: To have the opportunity to visit and interact with/get to know some queer cripple friends in person, and to visit my good friend @colorcinabrio in Mexico to travel round the world with them if ever given the chance! ❤

When Blog was created:

Somewhere around two years ago... I wanted to make blog that reflected my disability and really let me identify as a cripple and focused more focused more on cripple things and maybe make some cripple friends! ^ ^’ ❤

Last Movie Seen: That comes to mind that I actually enjoyed? The Favorite.

Favorite Holiday: I really love people’s birthday’s also and I always try and do something for my friends birthdays if I can! ^ ^ ❤

Songs on repeat: As of recently, ‘Fake Happy’, by Paramore.

Tagged by @qjusttheletter

Tagging: @colorcinabrio @thetrainticket @finallyhaunted @thequantumqueer @rosered3 @isnezzed @purplepeoplelickingtruthpeddler @transplorer

Thank you so much for tagging me, Q! ^ ^’ ❤ I know it took a while to answer but as I said before I really did go on a deer tangent for a minute! ^ ^’ ❤ But being tagged by you brightened my day and I know we don’t talk much directly but I really do think of you as a friend!!!! :D ❤ O.X

#qjusttheletter #replies #tumblrs also really been upsetting me lately so that's I've kinda been offline too but seriously thank you for the tag it means so much I'm #just sorry I took so long writing!!!!! ^ ^; <3 O.X

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therkalexander · 5 years

Text

The Good Counselor: Chapter 9

Book Three in the Hades and Persephone series. Seventy years have passed since Elysion was created, and Persephone's efforts to conceive a child with Hades have been in vain. But a secret rite on Samothrace might bend the Fates and give her all that they have dreamed of, or pave a path of untold suffering.

Chapter 9

He knew better than to speak with them before the first full moon of winter. He had only to recall his first visit to remind himself why. Even if a message from Olympus meant for Hades were urgent, he would always beg it off for at least a week.

Hermes sat in Charon’s boat, tapping his foot on the bracing, smoothing the golden feathers of his winged sandals, and trying to avoid eye contact with the dark cloaked shade of an old woman who sat opposite him.

“My husband sacrificed a ram to you,” she said suddenly.

Hermes started, then remembered that she hadn’t yet drunk from the Lethe. Though a shade, she wasn’t yet part of Asphodel. He could hear her. She was scowling at him. “What, to me?”

“He wanted to sell sheep across the water, to the Thracians. I told him not to go into business, but no… did Stavros listen to me? No!”

“What happened?”

“You don’t know?!”

“Uh…”

“The fool, I knew it! I told Stavros you wouldn’t listen to his prayers! ‘I know sheep, not trade, Agathe, but trust the gods , because I gave Hermes a whole ram , Agathe!’ Foolish pious man he was…”

“That’s enough,” Charon hissed.

The shade cowered and fell silent, but pursed her lips and glowered at Hermes until the boat scraped against the opposite shore.

“Welcome home,” Charon said to her and pointed his oar beyond the ghostly reeds at the poplar shaded stone pathway. “The Trivium is that way. Go to the spring beside it and wait. You are to be judged by Rhadamanthys.”

The woman gathered up her skirts and plodded along the path, disappearing from view. Charon pushed off and shook his head. Hermes shrugged. “What?”

“With all your infamous wiles and trickery,” the Boatman said, “could you have at least lied to her?”

“And tell her what?!”

“Nothing comes to you? There was a bad star, a storm of the ages, or the evil eye struck, or any one of the many Olympian excuses. Or even that yes , you’d listened, but no, there was nothing that could have been done.”

“There are too many offerings… how could I have known their circumstances?”

“ You guide the wayward dead back here. Speak to them and find out. Or lie vaguely, if you prefer. It comes to you easily enough.”

Hermes scowled and slouched back, crossing his legs. The palace gates came into view at the end of a short path bordered with tall stalks of asphodel. Charon stilled his boat and Hermes debated whether or not to have the last word.

“What is your purpose here, Psychopompos?”

“Your King summoned me today. And since I was on the way, I also bear a message from our Queen to yours.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s a good thing that Hera wants to befriend her. Good for everyone. Persephone is the only child of Zeus she’s ever been kind to, so can you please, please do your part to not ruin it?”

The Boatman didn’t reply.

“Not for me, but for her.” Hermes leapt into the air, thankful to be on the other side of the Styx. Ever since the fateful day he had appeared before Hades and Persephone at the command of Zeus to return her to Demeter, he had carefully abided by Persephone’s edict that he not cross the Styx except by Charon’s boat. It was ploddingly slow, made worse by the shades that often made the journey alongside him, and worse still by the unpredictability of Charon’s temperament— he never knew whether Charon would be gratingly dour, or spend the entire trip needling him.

The air was dank and chill, but he could feel the spray from the falls beside the palace on his face and it was refreshing after the stifling stillness of the Styx. He raced upward, torchlight guiding him to the throne room. He could hear Persephone’s voice inside.

“…on the full moon exactly between the first of Spring and the Solstice.”

“The seeds have already burst and reached into the soil by that season. Petals have fallen and the fruits have begun to pull on the branch. The weave of this is strange—”

Hecate whipped around as Hermes alighted on the balcony. He stumbled back.

“Oh it’s… you… It’s almost the— I suppose it’s the last quarter moon, isn’t it?”

Persephone made her way back to her throne and sat down, folding her hands in her lap as Hecate shuffled closer to the Messenger, toying with him.

She extended a bony finger. “The long-toothed wolf makes the pup yelp, eh?”

“There are old gods above, too. But they’re ageless, and, well, you are too, but… I normally see you when you’re…”

“When I look to have more pounce than prowl?”

“Well, yes.”

“Cross the still waters more, whelp, and the boatman’s call might lead you to a wiser world. But if the withered wolf makes your tail tuck away, I mark that the pawns of Olympus have no heart for the splendor and shades of Chthonia.”

Persephone sat up. “What brings you here, Hermes?”

Hecate slid into the shadows, the crows feet around her eyes deepening as Hermes picked at a fingernail. He bowed to one knee and held a scroll aloft. “A letter. From the Queen of Heaven.”

Persephone stood and extended her hand. Hermes stepped onto the dias and handed her the papyrus, the seal marked with the eye of a peacock feather. She broke it and started unrolling the scroll, then stopped. Hermes stood waiting. “My husband summoned you, no? He’s below, in the courtyard.”

Hermes shifted. “Oh. Yes.”

No wayward gossip for you, Persephone thought. When Hermes was out of sight she walked to the desk and unfurled the missive.

Hecate hobbled closer. “Queen of Heaven, says the nipper at heels. A crown of twigs that lays claim to the forest of the cosmos…”

“Likely not self applied.”

“We can hope that the crow but wears the peacock’s feathers. What says the consort of the sky god?”

Persephone scanned the words. They weren’t in Greek, or Theoi, but in the hieroglyphs of far off Aegyptus. She wrinkled her brow. What reason did Hera have to encrypt a letter? Persephone had only learned that language a quarter century ago, and had yet to master the spoken tongue.

My dear sister Queen,

I hope this finds you well. Your absence has produced a dreadful series of storms that has blanketed Thessaly in a lovely frost, but lost several ships near Crete, or so Poseidon tells me.

No matter. I look forward to your return and what we spoke of before your departure. Every passing day with my husband and his infernal sons convinces me that your ways below the earth should be reflected above. I don’t want to speak of this on Olympus. There are too many eyes and ears here. Perhaps in your realm, if you would be so kind. I know you have much faith in your people.

I cannot leave now. There are matters I need to see through. And you are often busy in the Spring, but perhaps Summer might be a better season for us to visit Elysion together.

Please write soon.

All regards,

“The serpent asks the sparrow to nest on the ground,” Hecate rasped.

“Why do you say that?”

“She knows well that the Pact of the Pomegranate binds you to the fields when the sun soars highest, yet asks you to walk with her into these sunless halls while the fruits grow above.”

“I’m sure it’s completely innocent. When I spoke of the Agreement with her and Amphitrite, it seemed she hardly knew anything about it.”

Hecate thinned her lips. “The serpent smiling through a cloak of blue feathers is still a serpent.”

“I don’t trust her either, but she is trying to befriend me, and the last thing we need is to make an enemy of her. Besides,” Persephone said, reaching for a stylus. “If she is sincere, we could affect meaningful change in the world above. Wouldn’t you prefer that to mortal women being treated as little more than chattel, or your followers being stoned or exiled?”

Hecate clenched her jaw.

“She is clearly scared and alone.” Persephone held up the scroll.

“Serpent or worm, wolf or lapdog— be certain you know which beast you see. The Queen wore a thousand masks before you first saw your own reflection.”

“I’ll be cautious. But I’m not going to raise a wall between her and me.” She rolled the scroll until Hera’s words disappeared. She whittled the end of her papyrus reed to a sharp point and dipped it in the ink.

“What words will you send to the mountaintop?”

“The truth. That I’ve never returned to Chthonia in the spring or summer, in accordance with the Pomegranate Agreement, and I don’t ever intend to do so.”

***

“Hold,” Aidoneus said in the dream tribesman’s language. He stepped back and dug the pommel of his sword into his palm to stretch his tendons and relax his grip. As he clenched and unclenched his fingers around it, Aidon watched the deep wound on his forearm knit back together then disappear entirely.

Icelos Phobetor, chieftain of the Oneiroi, waited. His shape drifted from shimmer to shadow as he lowered his dagger and spear.

Aidon wiped the sweat off his brow. “You may enter, Psychopompos.”

Hermes dropped to a knee knelt at the entrance to the courtyard. When he stood, he looked up at Aidon, but his eyes were drawn to Icelos. Twice as tall as him, the shifting mass kept a roughly human figure, massive weapons suspended within hazy fists, cloudy muscles rippling. The color drained from Hermes’s face. “What… who…”

“He doesn’t speak Theoi. Don’t bother,” Aidoneus said, replacing his helm.

“What are you doing?”

“Practicing.”

“What for?!”

Aidoneus glowered at him through the eye slits. “Chthonia stands between your world as its former masters. Should the Titans ever escape Tartarus, I need to be ready. Stay where you are, Hermes.” He looked up at Icelos and spoke in the hollow tongue of the dreamworld. “Last time. Advance.”

Hermes winced, first at the unfamiliar words, then the clash of bronze. “It’s been forty thousand years, Aidoneus—”

“And if you want another forty thousand,” he said, grasping the spear to pull Icelos toward him and thrusting harmlessly into his immaterial form with a riposte, “I cannot afford to rest on my laurels.”

Icelos jerked his spear back and Aidoneus dodged aside. The heavy spearhead slid by him, a hair's width from his shoulder, and struck the cobblestones with a clang. His helm vanished and swallowed the rest of his armored form, and he silently rolled backwards. Icelos lunged and hacked at the ground around him with his knife, hitting nothing but stone. Hades waited. He trod silently, then leapt forward. Arm cocked, he reappeared and cleaved Icelos’s spear in half with a hard blow, then stood. “That’s enough for today. Thank you for your time, friend.”

Icelos silently bowed and vanished, taking the broken spear with him.

He inspected the nicked edge of his sword, then sheathed it, leaning the scabbard against the wall. He’d hone it later. Aidon removed his helm and sent it away through the ether. Hermes was shifting from foot to foot, agitated since the first clash of bronze. He was always on edge whenever Aidon wore his armor. They’d taken away his wife for half of each year, and each year passed quietly. Did the Messenger still fear that he would make war on Olympus?

Let them worry on that , Aidoneus thought, so they don’t think they can take anything else. Still, he couldn’t tolerate Hermes’s fidgeting. His armor melted and rippled into the more familiar shape of his black tunic and himation as they walked toward the courtyard gate.

“Your wife sent me to see you here. I was willing to wait in the throne room.”

“Given that you read her missives earlier this year, I don’t blame her for dismissing you. I have a task for you,” he said. “Come with me.”

Aidoneus walked quickly toward the grotto and the pool beyond. “Wait outside.”

Aidoneus knew Hermes wouldn’t move an inch into the room until he was under the water. The Messenger had seen enough for one lifetime when he’d barged in on him and Persephone.

Aidon removed his sandals, his himation and tunic, then his loincloth, and left them in a crisply folded pile on the divan. He pulled his hair free of the torc and dove head first into the water. He swam to the bottom, coming to rest cross legged. The rush, the darkness, the utter silence of the water was welcoming. A respite. Aidoneus opened his eyes with only black stillness to greet him. It was warmer at the bottom and he let the heat seep into his flesh and bones. He’d begun sparring with Icelos early in the morning, and should have gone most of the day. He hadn’t expected Hermes so soon, and his request of the Messenger would not be an easy one. Aidoneus knew that just one misplaced word or distracted thought would beget a torrent of gossip among the gods, and cause him and Persephone, and likely Demeter, endless problems. He rolled his neck, then slowly surfaced, his shoulders breaking the dark water. With a flick of his wrist, he lit the room, the torches illuminating the sapphire and diamond inlaid ceiling above. “You may enter.”

Hermes poked his head in the door and scanned the dim room, empty but for Aidoneus chest deep in dark water. He waited for Hermes to take stock of the room, then spoke.

“Who on Olympus would have a silver lyre?”

Hermes raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“It is a gift for a mortal.” The boy’s eyes widened and Aidon could see the wheels turning in his head. “It is not so grand a favor, Hermes. I allowed a mortal to use my own helm once.”

“Yes, but the Stygian nymphs were the ones who actually handed it to Perseus.”

Hades rolled his eyes, despite himself. “Of course they did. What living mortal in their right mind would cross the Styx, enter this palace, and meet face to face with the Lord of the Underworld to ask of him a favor?” Aidon slowed his tread under the water until only his head bobbed above the surface. Warm water crept up his neck, soothing him. “It’s beside the point. And before you ask, my reasons for this are my own.”

“I didn’t ask. I know you better than that.”

“You created the first lyre, no?”

“I did. But I traded it almost as soon as I made it.”

“For what?”

“A herd of cattle.”

Aidoneus stared at him, water dripping down his scalp.

“It was a joke. It’s a long story.”

“There must be more than one silver lyre on Olympus. Which of the Muses would have one? Calliope? Erato?”

“They do, but not the kind you’re looking for. The only silver lyre is Apollo’s.”

He exhaled and disappeared under the surface for a long moment then came back up. “Of all the gods to which you could have given it…”

“He doesn’t use that particular one often, but he does treasure it above all others. If I told you what Euterpe had to do just so she could touch—”

“I don’t want to know,” he said. “Turn, would you?”

Hermes complied, facing the wall. “Who is the lyre for?”

Aidoneus hoisted himself up out of the water and shook out his hair, then stood and wrapped his himation around his waist. “A hymnist named Orpheus, who lives on Samo—”

“Him?!” Hermes spun back around. “The one you said has been putting the gold scrolls in the mouths of the dead?”

“The same,” he answered, throwing the long end of the dark cloth loosely over his shoulder, careless of how it lay. It wouldn’t be on for long. Persephone was meeting him upstairs after this business was over.

“And here I’d guessed you’d ask Zeus for his life for that. Not grant him a gift!” Hermes rolled his tongue on the inside of his cheek. “Wait; isn’t he Apollo’s son ?”

“He is.”

Hermes laughed. “My lord, forgive me, but I thought you had an actual task for me. ‘Excuse me, Apollo, I need to borrow that magical lyre of yours and give it to your musically and poetically gifted son who composes hymns about you . You can have it back in thirty years or so when he’s dead.’ That is what you want?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure you can’t tell me wh—”

“No,” he said firmly. “All I need is discretion. Especially if you are going to Apollo. I don’t want him to know that it was at my behest.”

“He takes no issue with you.”

“You told me yourself that he is still… resentful… of how Aphrodite publicly humiliated him on Persephone’s behalf. It’s doubtful he would forgive that any time soon.”

Hermes nodded. “If anything he detests Aphrodite for it, not Persephone. Aphrodite and I— well, he has no quarrel with me, you know, and she and I… are…”

Aidon closed his eyes and massaged his temples with his fingertips. His voice dipped in register. “Is that why Ares has been making an absolute mess of Argolis for the past month?”

Hermes winced. “Possibly?”

“Your affair with her has created a season of headaches for us down here. It’s not just soldiers we’ve received. The city was ransacked. Women, Hermes. Children .”

“Take it up with Ares. I didn’t tell him to start a war.”

He sat down on the divan. It was always someone else’s fault with the Olympians. Any time he had asked after the causes of mortal suffering he’d been met with a chain of pointing fingers. It wasn’t even worth it to lecture the boy.

“It won’t be difficult, I promise. Apollo is my friend.”

“Just make sure.”

The Messenger paused for a moment and tilted his head, suspicious. “You’ve never, and I mean never engaged in intrigue, my lord. Why this?”

He tilted his head up and stared Hermes in the eye. “It has nothing to do with Olympus. I swear that to you on the Styx, Hermes. It concerns our own matters in Chthonia, only. And you’ll know the answer soon enough, if our efforts are successful.”

“Our?”

Damnation! Aidon could have kicked himself. The crack in the levy was already there. Best repair it before Hermes made any suppositions. “I want my wife’s name kept out of this, Psychopompos.”

Hermes stared at him, and Aidon knew that he was trying to divine the reason. The Trickster was wise with emotions. He could see around the slightest bluff, the quickest lie. Hermes relaxed. “Think nothing of it, Aidoneus. I’ll do it.”

“You have my gratitude.”

“Any messages for Zeus?”

“No. Likewise, I take it?”

Hermes shook his head.

“You may go. Charon will be along shortly.”

“Aidon… since I’m doing you this favor, is there any way you could reverse the decree and I could just… come and go the way I used to?”

“That decision is for the Queen alone,” Aidoneus said, smiling dryly.

Hermes opened his mouth to say something, then deflated. He bowed quickly and disappeared through the doorway.

“He will be as true as any whelp to a good master. ”

Aidoneus turned to see Hecate, standing on the surface of the pool, her aged reflection perfectly mirroring her in the still water.

“The pup’s yapping is not the sole storm in my mind. You are not only swimming against the river, you try to force it from its banks. These are not your ways. Or mine.”

“Have our ways given my wife a child?”

Hecate slowly walked toward the deck, the water undisturbed, then padded soundlessly across the limestone. “The words of the Fates—”

“Contradict themselves. You tell me that. They told me that Persephone and I would be as fruitful as the land of the dead, and they told herwe would have three children. So it is up to us, then. Just as it was our ordained actions that created Elysion.”

“The river forks ahead, Aidon. It spreads before the sea beyond. And too many tributaries flow into a whirlpool. Lives will be churned. Swallowed. I see agony. Suffering.”

“If I do not go to Samothrace, then we suffer the fate of never knowing if this was our one chance. I’m not about to let it slip through our fingers.”

“And so you sail with your queen. What of the other ships that sail alongside you?”

“It’s a fertility rite. Suppose the mortals have a poor harvest, as they did after our last efforts… Persephone and I can set it to rights before the first chill of winter. We would have months to do so.”

Hecate’s face fell. “The passing parts of seasons concern me little, Aidoneus. It is winters counted together as mere moments. It is the ripple that builds until it sends all ships to the deep.”

“I have faith in ananke, Hecate. I’m not abandoning what you taught me, or you, or what I believe. And the hymnist himself follows our ways. I feel, in my soul, that this is right. More so than anything we’ve tried before.”

She nodded, but her lips pursed as she looked up at him. “If this is your course, and if you sail with clear eyes and strong heart, who am I to stop you?”

* * * * * *

Sorry it was late today! So that's it! Thank you so much for reading the free preview of The Good Counselor. I’ll keep you up to date on the release, and any new developments with the show that will be based off my books, Pawns of Olympus.

#the good counselor #hades and persephone #hades x persephone #hecate #hermes #hera #persephone #hades #pawns of olympus #Rachel Alexander

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grandthorkiday · 5 years

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Mob AU “Playthings” Part 24

[Link to mob!au anon’s “Playthings" fic tag]

[Start at Part 1]*

(*Note: Link is editable for other parts, just change the number. For mobile users, tag is “playthings part1”)

Note from @loxxxlay: MOB ANON HAS REVEALED THEMSELVES!! They are @red-shadow-wolf-19 and they have plans to write more Grandthorki in the future! Go follow them for more of their fics <3

They dragged him out of the bedroom when it was announced on the news the next morning. He knelt in front of the large flat screen, amongst the games controllers that had been his brother’s solice, and watched as the a newscaster said in a sympathetic but efficient manner, “Thor Valhalla was found this morning in critical condition after what appears to be an assault. He was rushed to a hospital but pronounced dead on arrival. He was thirty two.”

“The Brat is dead! Long live the Brat!” Mario crowed, and the crew laughed.

Gast used one finger to lift Loki’s face to his. “You always have your exit strategy, sweetheart. Remember?” He said it almost kindly.

“M-may I go back to the bedroom?”

Back away from the crew and stares, Loki bent over the toilet and threw up in peace. He sobbed into the tile floor, aware that no one this time would come in and stroke his hair or hold him or sing some stupid song from their childhood. It was just him now.

They next day, they dragged him out again. This time because he had to cook breakfast. Life goes on.

Gast began making the rounds on the radio shows, calling in to dramatically cry about the death of one of his lost soulmates. He kept Loki in his lap, hugging him close like a stuffed animal. Occasionally the host would ask after the brunette. Grandmaster’s eyes would flick up to his, and he would politely look away. “In no fit state to talk to anyone, sadly.”

Naturally, that really wasn’t the case. Around three o'clock, Loki found a phone being shoved in his face as he laid on the bed.

“Call the hospital. Tell them you want the body. You can do that, you’re family.” There was an emphasis on ‘family’ that made his skin crawl, but he took the phone and did as he was told. Thor had told him to be good.

[read more cut]

The hospital, unfortunately, was making it difficult. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Valhalla, but Mr. Thor Valhalla’s body was released to your Father already. You will have to speak to him and your sister. I am so sorry for your loss.”

“I-I am his…,” he could barely say the words. He’d wanted to scream them for the last six to seven years, and now he barely had the energy to form a syllable.

“I’m so sorry.”

When he hung up and explained the situation, the slap to the face was almost welcome. “Call your sister! I want his body!”

Thor would have cheekily asked why he hadn’t kept it. He would have couched it as a light-hearted question. Loki simply dialled from memory Hela’s number and said nothing.

“I want Thor’s body,” he said with preamble once she answered the phone.

“Oh, Loki! I-”

“Please, Hela. I want to bury him. We-” he glanced at Gast who looked back at him expectantly, “we want to bury him.”

“After he-”

“He’s my husband, Hela…we got married. Did you know that? I’m legally allowed to have a say over what happens to his…remains.”

“I know, Loki. He told us.”

Loki took a shakey breath, the painful reminder of why Thor wasn’t there twisting in gut like a knife. “Hela, don’t make me fight you in court. Don’t make him fight you. Please, right now…”

“Daddy wants to bury Thor too.” It was said quickly, cutting him off.

“Near Mom?” he couldn’t help the hope that entered his voice.

“N-no. Um…he’s having Thor cremated and buried in another plot.” There was a quick and muffled dialogue on the other end of the phone before she came back. “I suppose we could um…share….him. Split the ashes.”

Loki felt like vomiting again. “Split the ashes?” He glanced at the Grandmaster who shrugged and nodded his assent. “O-okay.”

They arranged when he would come to pick up the ashes. Hela tried to invite him to their private funeral service, but he hung up on her instead. He had to be good. He had to survive. Grandmaster kissed his forehead and tucked him into bed for that.

That’s when he brought 'the trophy’ out. Loki nearly screamed and fled the bedroom, but he forced himself to remain where he was. The older man placed the glass container of strange viscous liquid on the bedside counter. The blue iris of Thor’s eye looked unreal and otherworldly, the veins and disconnected tissue floating out like tentacles or rays of lightning. Loki looked at it in morbid fascination.

“I said, it was his best feature,” Gast said simply, running a finger down the side of the glass.

“Yes.”

“Well one of his best features. But you can’t persevere an ass.”

“That’s why you called him Sparkles. Because of his eyes.”

“It’s not like he shot lightning or something.”

“May I keep his things? At least his drawings?”

“I guess. But keep them somewhere neat. I don’t want them everywhere,” he reached over and laid out three more items: a needle, a small bag of blue crystals, and a lighter. He left, without another word as Loki took them.

~2020~

He honestly couldn’t remember clearly the last few months. He remembered the funeral. Gast had made an emotional fifteen minute eulogy before bringing him to the front of the packed church to speak. He stood at the lectern, stuttering out something unintelligible before breaking down into sobs at the sight of the blown up picture of Thor. He had been gathered into the Grandmaster’s embrace, though they didn’t leave the altar. The cameras and the world needed to see him.

After that, his life was series of color and moments of sobriety. He tried to stay away from harder stuff, keeping mostly to alcohol and weed, but Gast kept giving him the crystals when he got 'too weepy’. He now slept and lived permanently in the master bedroom. He didn’t have to cook much anymore, mostly because no one trusted him around a stove. But he was good. Perfect. So they couldn’t complain.

Sometimes, he could forget everything. Gast would hold him in his lap during one of the numerous meetings, and Loki would simply exist, as though he had been willed into being just to please this man. Then, he would catch sight of the bar, or maybe something would brush across his cheek and it would come all crashing back. He would hug the man closer, for there was no one else he was allowed to touch anymore, and he would be given a glass of alcohol to keep quiet.

“My poor Lo Lo. All alone now.” He forgets when this was said to him exactly, but the ridiculous sweater he remembers Gast wearing made him think of Christmas. “Maybe I should get you a buddy. An itsy bitsy friend?”

He remembers the tablet being pushed into his face so he could stare at a Facebook page. The kid barely looked out of high school, standing in his board shorts and tank top, his brown hair being picked up by a breeze. He had a wide innocent smile as showed off a farmer’s tan. The photo was posted by Peter Parker, with a caption 'this boi thirsty! For lemonade it’s hooooott’ followed by a confusing jumble of emojis.

Loki had felt his stomach twist and an emotion akin to jealousy and guilt with a twinge of nostalgia settle there. But he was good. Perfect. So he had said as brightly as possible, “He’s cute!”

“I knew you would like him!” Grandmaster had cooed, as though he had picked out a puppy. He had kissed Loki so sweetly, again he almost forget everything. Even Thor’s eye still on the bedside counter.

Loki was slightly drunk when the police finally came to arrest the Grandmaster. They had been expected, but late. To the mobster’s delight he had made quite a scene. They had been at a restaurant, watching Peter, Loki still stalling the inevitable when they had came, led by Bruce Banner. He had tried to scratch the cuffs away and nearly punched Bruce’s face. To the man’s credit, he had been very gentle and guided him back to his seat before continuing. Gast naturally was home the next day, already gloating.

This time the DA did not push for a gag order. They seemed rather unconcerned with what the Grandmaster said or did. And he took full advantage of that fact.

“We’re still mourning our Thor and they do this! After his family would not come to the funeral!”

“Awful,” the interviewer said, shaking her head sympathetically. “Loki, do you have anything to add.”

“Why are they doing this to us? Haven’t…haven’t we lost enough?” He broke down with each word. They didn’t cut away as he choked and sobbed. It made for good television, he supposed.

When they DA announced they had a secret witness, there was a large meeeting in the penthouse about who it was. No one suspected Loki; he rarely left the apartment anymore, and if he could get away with it he stayed mostly in the bedroom. Besides, the secret witness was apparently in protective custody. Anyone who was late or didn’t attend the meeting immediately fell under suspicion and fingers were pointed even at those who showed up early. It was utter chaos. Gast loved it. Loki slipped away to the bedroom with a bottle of wine.

The day of the opening of the trial, Loki was woken up and made to put on the clothes he had worn at the funeral. They were a little too big on him now, he had lost some weight since then, but he still looked impressive. His eyes were bloodshot from all the drinking and drugs, so they gave him a pair of sunglasses.

“Can you even walk a straight line,” Gast asked him mockingly. He could, but his hands shook. They gave him a flask for his pocket and a packet of cigarettes. He didn’t have a wallet or cellphone anymore. He hadn’t since Thor died. All the money under his and his husband’s old mattress had been taken and redistributed to the penthouse crew, except for a hundred dollars which Loki had used for his last solo trip in the city to pick up Thor’s ashes.

The courthouse was packed with the press and the public when they arrived. Gast waved good-humoredly at them as they entered. He made a big production of helping Loki to his seat, kissing and fawning over him. He let the sunglasses dip for a moment so people could see his eyes. Naturally, the press would assume it was because of tears not alcohol. Topaz settled in next to him, a more 'comforting’ figure than Mario.

Stark and Romanov entered, ignoring the press as they went to their table. They spoke in low voices and passed a cellphone and a tablet back and forth between them. Loki didn’t pay attention, keeping his eyes forward on Gast and trying to memorize the New York seal on the judge’s bench.

“All rise!” called the bailiff. The courthouse stood as a small heavily whiskered man soon and settled himself in the high bench. “The Honorable Patel preceding.”

“Sit down,” the judge said, fiddling with papers on his desk as the courthouse sat. “I will hear opening statements. Mr. Stark?”

The ADA stood and spoke very succinctly. They had evidence of weapon trafficking as well as drug trafficking. They also had evidence of sexual and physical assault, and conspiracy to attempt murder. Gast, he explained rather dryly, was a danger to the city and society and had manipulated his way out of justice before. “Hopefully, he won’t this time. With your help,” he concluded, thanking the jury.

Gast’s lawyer stood as soon as Stark sat and began to dramatically recount the last year: the DA’s first attempt to sully the Grandmaster by manipulating his lover, Loki which resulted in Loki’s suicide attempt. The brunette shifted uncomfortably in his seat at being part of this, but he made no move to shield himself from view. Then, he spoke about losing Thor to thugs collecting a gambling debt. Bile rose in his throat at that, but he pushed it down. He was good. Perfect.

“And now, DA is dragging this man and his loved ones back into court not four months after burying his beloved as some sick way to get votes. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you have the poor to end this! Listen to the weakness of this case, and then find En Dwi Gast not guilty!” A few people in the gallery clapped, causing the judge to bang his gavel a few times.

“Stark, are you ready to proceed with your secret witness?”

“Already? Blowing your load a little early, aren’t you?” Gast quipped. The gallery laughed. The gavel fell.

“This is not an open mic night. Please refrain from comments. Mr. Stark?”

Tony nodded, dialled a number on his phone and said a few words. A side door opened. The room gasped.

Loki didn’t look at first. He was good. Perfect. But finally when Gast gasped as well, he swiveled his head robotically around. He let out a cry.

Thor stood, supporting himself on a cane and Valkyrie’s arm. He had an eye patch his left eye and his hair had gotten a little longer than the Grandmaster ever let it grow. Every step he made to the witness box was slow and pained, but he barely seemed to care. His one eye found the defense side of the room and he glared with venom at the older man.

Loki’s limbs moved on their own. He stood, knocking over Topaz. By the time the woman had recovered, he had walked out of the gallery. Gast was calling to him, using all the sweet nicknames he had. It made not an ounce of difference. The judge was saying something and the bailiff tried to intercept him but Val had waved him off as Stark shouted to be heard.

He was standing in front of Thor, the sun streaming over them from the high windows. Thor’s expression had softened as he had gotten closer. He was crying now, reaching out to him, stroking his face tenderly like he had the last time they had seen one another. Loki took the hand before launching into his arms, nearly knocking him to the ground.

The brothers held one another for several moments, the courtroom holding their breath as they spoke in hushed and hurried voices. Finally, the younger let go, turning to Stark. He spoke in a watery voice slightly hoarse from months of crying, drinking, and disuse.

“Can I be added to the witness list, too?”

#frostmaster #thundermaster #thorki #loki #thor #grandmaster #GrandthorkiB #sfw #fic #cw dubcon #cw noncon implied #cw suicidal ideation #cw mental illness #cw drugs #cw rl drugs #playthings #submission #playthings part24

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hysterialevi · 5 years

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Abraham - A RDR2 Fanfic

Fanfic summary [NO SPOILERS]: Lyle Morgan and his eleven-year-old son have a conversation about Beatrice’s death, only for the boy to witness a second one.

Warning(s): Mild language

Author’s note: Bear with me if not everything in this story is correct. I’m not entirely sure where Arthur’s originally from (all I’ve heard is that he’s from somewhere in the north), so I just made something up lol. Also, this fic will only be one part. Anyway, hope you enjoy :)

From Lyle’s POV

A FOREST SOMEWHERE IN MONTANA

SUMMER, 1874

Strollin’ through the tall, thick grass, I led my mount around the forest at a casual pace while my son sat on top, consumed by his journal as always. It was an hour or two before midday, and right now, there was a radiant blanket o’ sunshine bathing the entire forest, painting everything with a golden tint. It was beautiful, and I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the day out here...but this feeling of annoyance just wouldn’t stop naggin’ me, and I knew exactly why.

I briefly glanced over my shoulder, peering at my son as he scribbled something down in the weathered pages of his journal.

A quick sigh escaped me.

I didn’t know who the hell Arthur got his interest in art from, or why Beatrice even bothered buying him that book, but that child just couldn’t seem to take his eyes away from it. Every time I came across the boy, he was always scratchin’ down some fantasy world of his, or creating images of a utopia I ain’t ever seen. It was pointless.

He spent more time daydreamin’ in that book than he did playing outside, or hunting, or fishing -- hell, he didn’t even know how to read -- and yet, Beatrice seemed perfectly content with it.

Or at least...she did.

Beatrice weren’t around no more. She was killed by bandits a few months ago. Robbed. Left on the side o’ the road for the crows to feed on. But Arthur didn’t know that. Sheriff told him it was a wild animal that took her. A wolf, to be exact. And he believed him.

I dragged a hand down my face, suddenly feelin’ exhausted just thinking about it.

Had I done the right thing, not tellin’ Arthur the truth about his own mother’s death, I wondered? I figured the kid didn’t need to know the morbid details, or even the entire truth, but I still felt like a piece of shit for not revealing the full story -- especially considering that them bandits who killed Beatrice...killed her ‘cause of me.

I had stolen something from them. Somethin’ valuable. And before it fell into their dirty hands, that “something” apparently belonged to a rich plantation owner who really wanted it back. Ended up gettin’ one of the bandits hanged, and left them thirsty for revenge. But they didn’t have the strength to go after the plantation owner. So, they came after me instead.

They chased me for quite a while. They chased me across the mountains, across the swamps, across the goddamned snow...until finally, they came to their senses and realized there were much better, more convenient ways of hurtin’ me. And thus, their paths diverted to my wife and son.

Those bastards managed to corner her while she was ridin’ to town to do some shopping. Found her on some secluded road between here and the nearest settlement, and ensured she would never return. That was when Arthur went lookin’ for help to find his missing mother hours later, and the sheriff assured him a wolf had gotten to Beatrice.

Christ. I really was a terrible father, weren’t I? Not only did I pay more attention to a bottle o’ whiskey than my own wife, I had also neglected Arthur for years on end, and indirectly gotten his mother killed. And the boy was only eleven.

He had spent half of his life not knowing a damned thing about where his daddy was, or even what he did, only to lose the one parent he already had before he could find out.

Lord...there had to be some way to make this up to him.

I looked back at the boy, suddenly feeling an urge to say something -- anything -- to him.

“Arthur,” I called out, catching the kid’s attention as his head perked up from behind the journal’s pages, “put that damned book away for a moment, will you?”

The boy hurriedly marked his place in the journal with a pen and shut it closed, resting the object on the saddle’s surface as he hung his head low in shame.

“...Sorry, sir.” He murmured.

I shook my head, lettin’ out a concerned breath.

“You spend far too much time in that journal. It was a mistake to buy it.”

Arthur’s eyes wandered to the trees towering around us.

“I’m sorry, dad,” he apologized timidly. “But I like drawing.”

I scoffed. “Yeah? Well, I like Poker. But I ain’t got time to play it. Too busy worryin’ about survival, and keeping the both of us fed. You can’t always do what you want, Arthur. You gotta provide. Things like drawing, gambling...they’re frivolous. We got better things to worry about.”

The child quirked a brow. “Friv-uh-less...? What’s that mean?”

“It means we don’t need to do it,” I explained. “What we do need, however, is to eat. So put that journal away and keep an eye out for deer. You was the one who suggested we come out here in the first place.”

Arthur frowned in a discouraged manner. “Yes, sir.”

I gave him a stern nod. “Good boy. Now...you said you seen a big buck out here?”

The boy pointed ahead. “Yeah. It was by the river.”

I gave the reins a little tug, urging my horse to follow me. “Then that’s where we’ll start. C’mon, Boadicea.”

Continuing our little hunting trip, Arthur and I traveled deeper into the lively woods as creatures of all types scurried around us, rustling blades of grass and alerting the tiny insects that hovered above the plants.

There was a rather peaceful mood to the forest today -- a welcome change considerin’ how chaotic my life usually was -- and I had to admit: some part of me enjoyed being here with Arthur. I rarely ever got to see the boy because of my work as an outlaw, and when I did, he always seemed reluctant to leave the house. Whether that was because he was more of an indoors person, or simply ‘cause he weren’t eager to spend time with me -- I didn’t know. But it was good to be with him regardless.

Approaching the large river, I came to a temporary halt as I crouched down and examined the ground, carefully searchin’ for any tracks that could’ve possibly led us to the buck.

The area here appeared undisturbed -- save for the fish flopping in and out of the babbling water -- and as far as I could tell, there weren’t no deer running around this section of the forest. Not at the moment, anyway. Maybe they were at a different part of the river.

I took a closer look at the grass, only to be torn away from my thoughts when Arthur raised a question.

“Dad?” He asked softly. “Can I...can I ask you something? About momma?”

I paused, thrown off-guard by the sudden change in tone.

“Momma?” I repeated, slowly turning towards the boy. “Why you wanna talk about her?”

Arthur’s expression sank with sorrow.

“It’s just...you knew her better than I did. Or longer, I guess. And I don’t remember her that good. ...Do you?”

I gazed at him in a puzzled manner, admittedly still a bit taken aback by the abrupt question.

“...Clear as day,” I replied, unwilling to sift through the painful memories. “But that don’t matter. She’s...she ain’t coming back, Arthur. No one does, once they die. Ain’t no point in lingerin’ in the past when it can only haunt you. All we can do is move on. You understand?”

Clearly a bit hurt by my response, Arthur dropped the subject and averted his eyes from me, peering over at a nearby gathering of flowers instead.

He slouched despondently. “...I understand.��

That wasn’t good enough for me. I took a step towards him.

“Look at me when you say that, Arthur,” I demanded. “It’s important you look people in the eye when you speak to them.”

The boy brought his line of sight back to me, his face veiled behind a very subtle layer of fear.

He straightened his back a bit. “I understand.”

I nodded in approval. “Good. Now...let’s get back to huntin’ this buck. You sure it was around the river?”

Arthur gazed around. “I saw it this morning when I was playing with Copper,” he confirmed. “It was drinkin’ water right here. That’s when I came to get you.”

I observed the dirt underneath me, squinting my eyes as I searched for clues. The grass in these parts was quite thick, so that made it even tougher to spot fur, or dung -- and I still didn’t see any deer tracks -- but it certainly looked like another animal had been around here.

I kneeled down, shuffling the grass outta the way with my hand.

“It looks like some wild horses might’ve passed through this area,” I examined. “But no sign of deer. Oh, well...the day is still young, and we have some time, so we’ll keep looking.” I gestured to a nearby bridge. “Let’s try over there.”

Grabbing my horse’s reins, I continued to guide it through the woods as Arthur scouted the area for me, his big blue eyes scanning the sharp horizon while the sun escalated in the sky. There was a certain determination in his temperament now, and the longer we carried on trying to locate this buck, the more my son seemed to be enjoying himself.

Perhaps there was hope for us, after all.

“...Dad?” The boy called again, making me flick my eyes to the side. “What if there are wolves out here?”

I encouraged him to stay calm. “Now, don’t you go worryin’ about that. If we see wolves out here, we’ll be fine. We’re armed, we’re fast, and we’re smart.”

Arthur wasn’t convinced. “...Momma was smart.”

I sighed in a melancholic tone at that. “Yes...she was. But...Momma was killed by a different type of wolf.”

He tilted his head in a puzzled manner. “What d’you mean?”

I gestured to my rifle. “Not all wolves are the same, Arthur. Some use their teeth, some use their guns, and some use their tongue. You gotta be able to identify them when you see ‘em.”

The kid didn’t say it flat out, but I could tell he knew what I was really talkin’ about.

“Those sound more like people.” He replied. I let out a gentle chuckle.

“People can be worse than wolves, Arthur. In fact, I’d prefer a wolf over some o’ the people I’ve met.”

Arthur leaned forward in the saddle, his body swaying along with Boadicea’s steady speed.

“What kinda people have you met?”

I lowered my voice, thinking back to the bandits who killed Beatrice.

“Killers. Thieves. Deceivers. Men who will constantly betray each other even though they share the same motive: greed.”

I turned to Arthur with a remorseful look, hopin’ to do at least one right thing in my life, and use myself as a cautionary tale that money weren’t as clean as it seemed.

“...Greed,” I told him, “it breaks people, Arthur. They may not realize it, ‘cause greed can get you far in this world...but the reward ain’t worth it. Not compared to the things you have to sacrifice. In the end, you’ll have tons of cash, only to realize that there are luxuries not even millionaires can afford.”

His innocence took over. “Then why do they do it?”

That was a question I asked myself everyday. I shrugged in a disheartened fashion.

“Because they don’t care. So long as their pockets is heavy, and their bellies is full, they’ll keep on going. But like I said, greed poisons you. It kills you. And you won’t even notice until you’re already sittin’ in a grave. So promise me, Arthur, promise me that when you get to my age...you won’t become a wolf.”

Despite evidently bein’ a little confused, the child was able to make some sense of what I just said and agreed to the promise, reassuring me with a small smile.

“I promise.”

“Good boy,” I praised, bringing my mind back to the main reason we came out here. “Anyway, here’s the bridge. Why don’t you hop down and help me find this buck?”

“Okay.”

Sliding down the saddle, Arthur effortlessly climbed down and joined me, scurrying ‘round like a mouse while he searched for any signs of the buck. But so far, there was nothing in sight.

“See anything?” I checked. The boy shook his head.

I wiped some sweat off my brow, letting out a fatigued sigh. This animal was certainly proving to be a challenge to hunt down. We had already been in this forest for a couple hours now, and our efforts still hadn’t paid off. Part o’ me was almost starting to suspect if Arthur even saw a deer in the first place, and not some other kinda animal.

I decided to take a short break, and turned to ask the boy.

“You positive the buck was roamin’ around in these parts? Or that it was a buck at all? I haven’t seen any tracks so far.”

A soft rustle suddenly reached my ears, interrupting my conversation with Arthur as I reached for my gun, only to be stopped by a sound I didn’t expect.

It was a man’s voice.

“...Don’t even think about it,” the stranger warned, cocking his own gun. “I will shoot if necessary.”

Freezing at the intrusion, I remained perfectly still and didn’t utter a single word as a pair of footsteps steadily approached me from behind, followed by two more men coming in from the front on horseback.

They were all dressed in similar outfits donned with Nevada hats, and I couldn’t help but notice the star-shaped badges shimmerin’ blatantly on their chests.

Shit. These were lawmen. What the hell were they doin’ out here? I never expected the law to travel this far into the country. This was definitely odd.

What really puzzled me though, weren’t the fact that there were three lawmen just...waitin’ for us out here -- it was more the fact that Arthur didn’t seem phased by any of this in the slightest. Just what exactly was goin’ on?

Trotting closer to me, one of the mounted men glowered in my direction as he ordered his deputy to restrain me, his firm, steel eyes never wavering.

I recognized him instantly.

“...Sheriff Buchanan.” I muttered through gritted teeth.

He returned the greeting, scowling from under his hat’s rim.

“Lyle Morgan.”

I shrugged at him, unsure of what to make of the situation.

“What is this shit? What’s the sheriff doing all the way out here?”

Buchanan glanced at Arthur, standing in front of him in a protective manner.

“I told you I’d use every option I had to get you behind bars, Morgan...and I meant it. You made the choice not to heed my warning.”

Taking a second to process what he just told me, the realization suddenly hit me like a bullet to the gut as I stared at Arthur with a sense of immense betrayal, unable to believe what was happening.

There never was no goddamned buck.

Things was never gonna work out for me and Arthur.

This was all a trap.

My own...son...had turned me in.

He was the bait, and Buchanan was the true hunter.

I clenched my jaw in rage, doing my absolute best to shield my emotions as the deputy kicked me to my knees.

“...A-Arthur...?” I whispered, my voice trembling.

The boy looked me straight in the eye, standing adamantly beside Buchanan as his deputies tied me up. I threw a glare at the sheriff, damning him till my last moments.

“You bastard, Buchanan...!” I cursed. “You turned my own damned son against me...?!”

The man showed no guilt and tightened his grip on his rifle, silently advising me to stay back.

“No need,” Buchanan denied. “You drove him to me all by yourself.”

He placed a gentle hand on Arthur’s shoulder and guided him towards the second deputy, ordering them to bring him back to town.

“Clayton, bring the boy back to the office. We’ll figure out where to send him later. For now though, just keep him safe, and look after him.”

“Right away, Sheriff.”

Preparing both his horse and mine for departure, the deputy left Arthur next to the sheriff as the boy stood firmly in place, his innocent yet damaged gaze never leavin’ mine.

Despite the hint of remorse clouding the child’s eyes, it was pretty obvious Arthur felt he made the right decision in turning me in. And just as Buchanan’s second deputy started to drag me away, I couldn’t help but notice a beautiful Whitetail buck wanderin’ around in the distance, its majestic antlers standing out like a crown on a monarch’s head as it bathed in the golden sunlight.

The animal swayed its head in my direction, almost as if trying to communicate with me.

“I’m sorry, dad,” Arthur whispered as he walked towards Clayton, blocking the buck in the process. “...But you made me promise.”

Taking his leave, the boy finally mounted up and steadily trotted away from the scene, only to reveal an empty spot where the buck once stood as he left the forest.

Well...I may have found the buck like I planned, but it weren’t my job to kill it.

And it certainly weren’t my place to look for it.

I could hunt them down to my heart’s content, and kill ‘em all I wanted for my own desires...but in the end, they would always be able to afford the one luxury I’d never obtained.

Peace.

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #lyle morgan #beatrice morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 story

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dregstrash · 5 years

Text

Earning the Present(s) [2/4]

This turned out to be unnaturally long, but I hope that’s okay, I just missed our dear Fjerdan a lot. I am really sorry this took so long. Part 3 will be up sooner rather than later. I hope this is okay as an addition.

Part 1

Part 2 of my Holiday Fic with the crows! If you want to be tagged just let me know! Also Matthias is alive in this one (shhhhh)

Summary: Five years after the events of the Ice Court, the six outcasts were in the prime of their lives. They had everything they had fought and bled for: money, power, promise, home. But this holiday season, a surprisingly altruistic event has them all under the same roof, and they all may have been a little older and a little wiser, but they were still those teenagers who had done the impossible and had almost died countless of times. And when the idea of a holiday gift exchange comes up the true test of their friendship and their growth is thrown into the rink.

----------

MATTHIAS

Matthias did not think he imagined the sharp twinge in his stomach as he rounded a corner that could have been the place he took his final breath. The bridge was cleaner, or as clean as anything is in this city, and as he stepped onto the cobblestones and looked upon the waters, his mind brought him back to that moment five years ago.

He remembered the bullet hold buried in his stomach, the ragged breaths that came in shorter and shorter, but most of all he remembered the look of Nina’s face as he tried desperately to get to her. She was beautiful--She was always beautiful. Especially then, her eyes sparkled and her cheeks had a pretty blush, and when she noticed him staggering towards her he had the briefest moment of pleasure at seeing such relief on her face.

His vision was fading, and the wolves that had plagued his mind had started to howl and call him back to the ice. But he couldn’t leave yet--Not when Nina was telling him something, berating him for not being on time, and if this was to be his last moment all he wanted was the taste of her. He had felt his blood flow out of the wound as his hands reached up and held her face. Her lips were sweet. They tasted of the victory that was at their fingertips, and of the strawberry and waffles that they had all scarfed down before Brekker’s plan came into motion. He pressed his lips further, and regretted each moment he had cursed her wicked mouth or the times he denied that the surge of desire that threatened to seize hold of him. He would remember this, on the ice, running amongst the wolves, in the land of Djel, he would remember this and remember his little red bird.

But then when his vision turned to black and the wolves welcomed him home. Then one wolf separated from the pack standing steadily on the ice. He watched as his old friend Trassel bound up to him and nudge his hand with his paw. His coat was gleaming and healthy and seeing his dear friend like this almost made the pain of leaving the world fade away. But then the wolf of his heart started to lead him away from the pack, down a different path on the ice that led him to the edge of a cave. Matthias had questioned his friend, asking where this would lead, but his wolf had simply rubbed his head against his thigh in a small affection and gestured to the entrance. It felt significant. It felt like a choice. Matthias looked behind him towards the ice and towards the pack of wolves that was looking on curiously, and then he looked ahead and felt a familiar tug towards the cave. Then he simply walked in, and it felt like stepping into the sun. Everything was too bright and too hot and the world was tilting dangerously. But when his eyes had fluttered awake he was all too aware of a familiar hand gripping his and the sharp pain in his stomach was slowly receding.

“Matthias!” Nina’s voice sounded wrong. It was laced with terror and grief--Nina was never scared or remorseful of anything.

“N-nina?” His mouth was dry as bones and he couldn’t quite understand what was going on. Was this what death was like? With pain and a ghost of a love that was unfairly ripped apart?

But then Nina’s lips were on his and then on his face. Her kisses peppering him, and an explanation tumbling out of her mouth.

“Inej helped me get you to a hospital,” She sobbed, “She threatened one of the Mediks by knifepoint to heal you. And then we got you to the rendezvous point. The Medik healed you enough to get you to Genya. You’re alive. You’re alive. You’re alive.”

Trassel. The cave. His rebirth.

Matthias the fearsome and unforgiving Druskelle had died that day on the bridge, and Matthias Helvar was reborn on a Ravkan ship headed towards a new adventure with the love of his life.

For five years, he was determined to best the wound in his side, to be the man that Nina believed him to be, and slowly build his own identity away from the ice. Of course the nightmares came. Nightmares of his old mentor cutting him down, of the too young Drukselle who had burned with hate, and of losing Nina over and over again. But when the world came back in its usual solidity he remembered that his heart was still beating.

He was alive. He was alive. He was alive.

But being back in Ketterdam felt like someone stepping over his grave. That the cheeriness that showed on drunken faces and hundreds of thieving hands walking up and down his bridge, it felt like he was dying all over again.

Matthias wasn’t sure why he insisted on this walk. He should have been back at Wylan’s house with Nina. He should have let the warmth of the fire and the comfort of good food burn away the cold that had settled in his chest as soon as Inej’s vessel had docked at Berth 22.

It stayed there all night. Even when Jesper had tackled him with an affectionate hug that he had awkwardly reciprocated, and when he noticed that both he and Wylan wore matching wedding bands. The cold pressed in when Inej had vanished before dinner and came back with the demji.

Matthias couldn’t help but wonder at how Kaz managed to look darker, more menacing, and more rugged when Jesper and Wylan had only glowed with age and happiness. But he supposed that whatever dark god the demji served only fueled him more. Those shark eyes had given Nina and him a sharp smile and welcomed them home. And Matthias had to fight the shudder that itched to crawl down his spine.

Home. Ketterdam wasn’t their home. It was the dark pit in which Kaz had forcibly demanded their shadows to consume them to do terrible things. And yet, it was still the place their starts had begun. It was the place that had opened Matthias’s eyes to a world where black and white no longer existed, and all that remained was different shades of motley gray.

Matthias had been sure that Brekker was the least changed out of all of them, especially when he continued to throw barbs and points towards Jesper and sometimes at Nina. But when Inej laughed at something Nina had said, Matthias caught an uncharacteristic softness in those black eyes. It was brief, a lightning rod of emotion towards the woman sitting two places away from him.

The cold almost thawed then. If Kaz Brekker could have managed to find some sort of warmth in this life, surely Matthias could as well.

Then dinner had ended and Nina announced her idea: a gift exchange on the day of Sankta Nichols.

Several times during their journey to Ketterdam, Matthias had tried to dissuade her. Saying all the reasons why the others would laugh at the tradition, but Nina’s stubbornness had only increased in years and she shrugged him off. Matthias took in the stunned and amused look Jesper had on his face, and the constant uncertainty in Wylan’s. Inej positively beamed with approval, and Kaz had only looked on blankly.

“It’s only a week away,” Nina continued, “So presents shouldn’t be too elaborate. I’m just trying to get some cheer in this dreadful city.”

“If you want cheer, dear Nina,” Jesper said taking a sip from his wine, “East Stave is really quite popular this time of year. We could take a trip down there if you’d like.”

Jesper winked and Wylan coughed in a warning.

“Or you could spend the rest of the week sleeping outside, Fahey,” Wylan said simply. Matthias almost smiled at that.

Jesper held up his hands in defense, “It was just a suggestion. At least with my idea we don’t have to worry myself with getting gifts we’re all gonna hate.”

“No, you podge,” Nina rolled her eyes, “It’s like a secret gift exchange. We all draw a name out of a hat, and we get a present for that person. Just one gift. It’s supposed to be festive.”

“If you wanted festive, Zenik, you should have stayed in Ravka.” Kaz said in an even voice. “Ketterdam only has drunk and the more drunk.”

Nina’s eyes blazed with annoyance, but it was Inej who said, “You’re doing it Kaz, or that promising shipment of sugar might have a hard time reaching Fifth Harbor.”

A heavy silence had filled the room then. Matthias felt his arms tighten unusually, as if his body was waiting for a fight, but Kaz surprised them all by a lightning strike of a grin. He had only seen the demji smile when his evil plans were at work, and seeing it now seemed almost unnatural.

“So we’re agreed?” Nina said brightly, but before anyone could say anything she clapped her hands, “Wonderful. I’ll draw it all up and we all have a week to get the intended person a present!”

Matthias had drawn Inej. And after dinner when all were settling, he couldn’t decide whether it was the impossibility of trying to find a gift for the Wraith or the overwhelming sensation of the place that had almost taken his life, but he needed to take a walk. He needed to breathe and remind himself over and over that he was alive.

Nina was already sleeping soundly when he took off his boots and entered their room at the Van Eck house. Her dark hair was spread prettily across both their pillows and her arms were taking up most of the space. Matthias always complained about the lack of space, but of course she would always argue back that if he had already been in bed he wouldn’t have to fight for his right to his side.

Matthias took his shirt off, and slid under his beloved’s arms.

“Matthias?” Nina sighed as he fit his body to cradle hers.

“Yes, my love?” He rumbled, feeling the comforting warmth of her body.

“Where were you?”

She moved her head and placed it against his chest.

“I just took a walk.” He said into her hair.

“You really should be careful.” She mumbled. “I hear this city isn’t very safe for visitors.”

“Is that right?”

She lifted her head and even if sleep clung to the very edges of her eyes, that lilt and that tease was as clear as ever.

“Oh yes, especially for Fjerdans like you.”

She went to poke him in the stomach, but he caught her hand and kissed it instead.

“Isn’t that why I have you to protect me, little bird?”

Nina gave him a smug smile and scooted upwards to give him a kiss that almost chased away any thought of sleep.

“Of course,” She said pulling back and laying back down on his chest. Matthias wound a finger through her hair and twirled it. “But I can’t protect you if you’re out there brooding.”

He couldn’t help but agree with that. And watching as Nina fell back asleep, he knew that he was a fool. His heart that had stopped that day did not belong to him anymore. His life was remade into something more. Something better. And that meant that his life belonged fully to the woman who was taking more than her half of the bed.

------------------------

Tags:

@krugerevengeinej @orangesnakesanddogs @i-hate-usernames45 @qrow-ismyspiritanimal @fangirl-ladybug @wraithpirate @the-jennster @lagabygaby @rynli @noirmagic1 @shiyash @readmeaway @razz-dazzle-taz @queenofthebarrel @irepostthingsilike @irepostthingsilike @i-just-want-to-have-a-fun-time @smittenthing @highladyofthefoodcourt @emilily101 @sourbishop @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away @alexbeatthebass @writtenwordheart @icefire0722 @ladyofvroses @bbenwyatt @zxyjxy @burnin-through-the-sky @thewoofster @daniellepal @goodie-giving-gecko-gets-gatos @bree-the-sloth @universallyghostjudgecalzone @thecrownedcupcake17 @kayleed77 @kanejandkruge

#matthias helvar #nina zenik #inej ghafa #Kaz Brekker #six of crows #what a very long delay for this story #my bad

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spn-teenwolf-imagines36 · 7 years

Text

Protect you.

Stiles Little sister! reader x pack

I know I just did a Stiles sister imagine, but I got this idea as I was falling asleep and I had to write it. Hope you enjoy!

please request!!

italics are flash backs

You knew it was to late too call him, you had begged and begged Scott, Lydia, and Malia to let you call your older brother for help, but now it seemed no mater if you called him or not, you were all going to die. Scott had made it a point to everyone to keep you out of the loop to stop you from calling Stiles, but once you arrived to Scotts house with a cut on the back of your hand with raised eyebrow, they knew they couldn’t hide it anymore.

The pack huddled around the table of the McCall house, discussing plans, but there was an elephant in the room, y/n. “You know if she finds out, she is going to tell Stiles.” Malia pointed out and Scott sighed, looking down at the table and nodding “Which is why we aren’t telling her. Not only will she tell Stiles, she could become a target.” “But Gerard only wants to kill supernatural beings.” Liam spoke. Lydia nodded her head, “Yeah but, Gerard knows how to use weaknesses against us, and she is a weakness for almost all of us. He used Allison to get what he wanted from Scott, he knows y/n is like a sister to Scott and one of your best friends along with the rest of us, so he knows we will do anything for her, including sacrifice ourselves for her.” “Yeah, but she’s human, she’s innocent, he wouldn't--” Mason began, but Scott interrupted “You don’t know Gerard like we do.” he stated, looking up at his friends and stood up straight, rubbing his hands together, “The plan is to keep as much of this under wraps from her. Mason, Liam, and Corey you watch her at school, I don’t want her talking to Nolan or Gabe, they will back her into a corner which you won’t be able to get her out of. She does not find out anything, day goes on as usual, got it?” Scott stated, and the three boys nodded.

The plan was underway, and for a day or two it was fine. Sure Liam and Corey got some stares, but it wasn’t to noticeable, and when you’d ask, Liam would quickly mock it up to lacrosse. In Biology, Mason noticed some other students with cuts on their hands, and he bumped Corey’s shoulder. “What do you think that is from?” he asked his boyfriend and Corey shrugged, “Not sure, ask.” he mumbled as he scribbled notes in his notebook. “Psst!” Mason directed towards another student, “What happed to everyone’s hand?” the student looked at him and smirked slightly, “Nolan, Gabe, and Aaron are testing how fast people are healing in the library to see if they are like Dunbar.” he said, and turned his attention back to the board. Mason instantly turned cold, and turned towards his boyfriend, who wore a similar expression, obviously hearing. Looking at his best friend who sat in front of him, and watched as he clenched his fist and breathed heavily in anger.

Once the bell rang, the three wrangled outside the classroom as students began to fill the hall. “Okay, y/n was in history she has free period now and I know for a fact she has a history paper due and she wanted to work on it, so she would go to the library to do that, right?” Mason asked and Liam nodded, his anger evident upon his face. “You guys head towards her locker, I’m going to go to the library to see if I can catch her before they do.” Liam said, and the three nodded heading in their separate directions. Liam raced his way through the school as fast as he could, skidding around people, tripping on his own two feet just to get to you. Of course a few teachers yelled at him for running, so he stopped for a few paces, waited till he was out of sight and took off running again. Finally spotting your backpack right outside the entrance, reaching to open the door, skidding as fast as he could, his body slammed the door closed.

“H-Hey y/n, whatcha doing?” he asked, huffing and puffing, groaning in pain from the door. “Hey...” you trailed off. Confused, you cocked a small smile, but remained confused, “I need a few more resources for my paper, going to check out some books.” “Why don’t we ditch and go to the public library instead?” he said, smiling at you, but you tilted your head, growing more and more confused “Excuse me what?” you mumbled, shaking your head and sighing, placing your hand back on the handle and Liam instantly placed his over yours, “You can’t go in there.” he said, and you stared at him, and glared, “Liam--” “No listen to me, you can’t go in there.” “Why not?” you asked quickly growing annoyed. Liam couldn't come up with a reason, and you stared at him for a moment before humming in response and swinging the door open.

“Y/n, no!” he exclaimed, but it was to late. Aaron and Nolan took hold of Liam, pinning him against the wall, as Gabe grabbed your hand. You let out a shriek in surprise, and tried pulling away, “Sorry sweetheart, gotta make sure you’re not one of them. This might hurt a little.” Gabe said as he took the knife and sliced the top of your hand. You gasped and instantly punched him in the face. He backed away holding his nose, “What the hell?!” he growled. “Don’t call me sweetheart ever again you sociopath!” You exclaimed, and you watched as Nolan and Aaron let go of Liam, and he scrambled to follow you out. Once you were out and the door was closed, you groaned in pain, looking at both your hands, one covered with blood the other one starting to bruise from the force of the punch. Liam ripped a piece of his shirt and began to wrap your hand, “That was pretty badass...” he said with a small smirk, but once he noticed your confused, and somewhat fearful expression, he placed two fingers under your chin to make you look at him. “Hey...” he tried to say gently, but you interrupted “What the hell is going on here?!” you yelled, ripping your hand away, staring at him. “I want an explanation! And than you, I know it was badass, but I want to know what the hell is going on in this town!” you yelled, and Liam flinched and nodded, “To keep it short and simple, they were testing to see how fast you healed because they are hunters...Hunters trained by Gerard.” Once you heard his name your expression turned cold, “Bring me to Scott.”

You arrived at Scotts house, anger written on your face. Once Liam parked the car you quickly jumped out and raced inside the house. Whipping your head side to side, you noticed Lydia, Scott, and Malia all crowed behind the kitchen island. Scott looked up at the sound of the door opening and a smile stretched across his face, “Hey--” “Don’t you hey me! Have you lost your damn mind?!” You yelled and his face softened. Liam followed in, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he looked down ashamed. “What happened?” Scott asked and Liam sighed, “Nolan and Gabe were testing people in the library, I tried to stop her, but she’s more like Stiles than I thought.” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Scott bit his lip and sighed turning his attention back to you, “We were going to tell you I swear, but we had to figure everything out first.” He said, and you glared up at him, tense air filling the room. “Liar.” you claimed, and his eyes widened, “What?” “Your eyebrow twitches when you lie Scott, you've been friends with Stiles since you were four, I know you well enough to know your quirks.” You said, and he went to protest, but Malia stood up.

“You’re right, he is lying.” She said, walking over to the two of you, and you looked at Scott than back at Malia, you could see him begging her not to tell you, but she didn't listen. “We didn’t tell you because we didn’t want you to call Stiles and tell him.” she said and your eyes widened as you turned your attention to Scott again, “You didn’t call Stiles?!” you yelled and he jumped slightly. You let out a sarcastic laugh and pointed at him, “You, you Scott McCall, are out of your damn mind if you think you can do this alone.” You said as you took a few steps away and pulled your phone out your pocket. “What are you doing?” Scott asked, “What does it look like? I’m using my brain unlike you and calling Stiles.” you claimed, and Scott ripped the phone away before you had the chance, “No. we have everything under control.” he said and you raised your cut hand, “Doesn’t look like it Scotty boy!” you exclaimed, and he took both your hands and examined them, “ Why is one bruised?” he asked and you looked away, mumbling, “It’s fine” under your breath. Scott sighed, and turned to Liam, “She punched Gabe when he cut her hand.” Liam admitted, and you glared at him as Scott turned his attention back to you, dropping your hands “You punched him?!” he exclaimed and you nodded. Scott sighed and sat on the couch. “Okay, listen, Malia and I are going out tomorrow to figure somethings out, you are going to stay with Lydia.” he said and you groaned, but Lydia smirked, coming up and hugging you sideways, “Oh come on it will be fun! We can go to the movies, mani, pedis all that good stuff.” you looked at her, and though her smile did warm your heart a bit, you were still angry at Scott for not telling you or Stiles. “Fine but the minute everything goes south, I’m calling Stiles.” you stated and Scott nodded slightly handing your phone back.

You spent the night at Scotts house, he felt a little weary about you being at home by yourself since you punched Gabe. The next morning you woke up and heard Lydia calling for Scott, but he was already gone. You raced down the stairs after getting dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans, a white t-shirt, converse, and one of Stiles’ flannels tied around your waist. “Lydia, are you read-- Woah, sour wolf here.” You said, noticing Peters presence, a slight smirk on your face. “Every time I see you, miniature Stiles, I think there’s no way you could be more agitating than your brother, but I’m always proven wrong.” He said with a sarcastic smile and you returned the expression. “As I was saying, Lydia are you ready to go?” you asked and she sighed, “Something came up, y/n...” She trailed off, and you nodded, a smile plastered on your face, “It’s okay, go on, I’ll stay here.” “Are you sure?” she asked, and you nodded, “Yeah, it may be better that way.” you said and she smiled, “Okay don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.” and you nodded in agreement, watching her and Peter walk out the house. Once you heard the car engine roar away, you ripped out your phone, pulled up your contact list, and your thumb hovered over Stiles’ contact. ‘Once everything goes south, I’m calling...Scott agreed’ you thought to yourself, and you bit your lip as you pressed his name and placed the phone to your ear. “Hey this is Stiles Stilinski, you have reached my voicemail, leave your name and I’ll call you back when it’s most convenient for me.” You heard and you shut your eyes and groaned, leaving a message, “Hey Stiles...I need you to call me back as soon as you can, something is happening...something bad and I don't have time to explain on voicemail so please call me.” you spoke and hung up.

You held your phone close to your chest as you took deep breaths and paced around the foyer of Scotts house, but a sudden sound caught your attention. A car door slamming close. “She’s in there.” you heard a voice that sounded familiar, it made your blood run cold. Gabe. You backed away from the door slowly, as you quietly grabbed your bag and phone, racing up the staircase as fast as you could before he busted up in the house and did something. You made your way into Scott’s room and shut the door behind you, locking it as you backed against his bed. First, you called Scott...he didn’t answer, then you tried Lydia, she didn't answer either...You tried Malia, sent to voicemail. Cursing to yourself, you glanced around the room, trying to find a place to hide, but no where was good enough. You glanced at the window...this could possibly be your worst idea ever, but it was your only option to escape whatever was coming for you. You opened the window as quietly as possible and threw your bag down and watched it land on the ground a story below you. You stared at the ground for a moment, shutting your eyes tightly as you swung your legs over the edge and sat there. Breathing deeply, you were trying to brace yourself for the pain you would feel if you landed the wrong way, but now wasn't the time to second guess yourself because, as you were about to just hide in the closet, the doorknob began to jiggle. You glanced back down at the ground, took a deep breath, shut your eyes and jumped, but you never felt the hard impact of the ground. Instead, you felt strong arms catch you.

Opening your eyes, you glanced up at who had caught you, and behold it was Peter Hale. He smirked down at you as he placed you on your feet, whispering, “I still have a heart you know.” You nodded your head and grabbed your bag as he grabbed your hand, running with you to the car, pushing you in the backseat, then hopping into the front and driving off before being noticed and caught. You sat back and let out the breath you had been holding for so long. “What just happened?” you asked, “You seemed to have pissed off the wrong person.” Peter said. “How did you know they were coming?” you inquired and Lydia sighed, “A feeling...” she mumbled, and you looked up at her, fear racing in your mind. “A feeling that someone was going to die?” you asked and she nodded, looking down, but then turning to face you, “But hey, it might’ve not had been you, so everything’s okay.” she said, a fake smile peering upon her face.

The day dragged on and on, and the moon was peering out from the clouds, you remained silent in the back seat while Lydia and Peter tried to figure out where Scott and Malia were. Pulling up to a shipping unit, the two elders unbuckled and demanded you stay in the car until they got back. You listened, and stayed in your seat. What Lydia had told you shook you to the core. She felt someone was going to die in the house...you against hunters...it had to be you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn't over. You pulled out your phone to see if Stiles called you back...he didn't. You sighed and slumped in your seat, drumming on your knees with your thumbs until something in the corner of your eye caught your attention. Two or three black SUVs pulled up and you knew what was about to happen. “Son of a bitch...” you whispered, as you jumped out the car and made your way towards the pack and watched as they all frantically argued with each other. “Guys!” you exclaimed, running towards them, “Hunters, they’re here!” you yelled and before you even had a chance to catch your breath gunshots rang out in the parking lot.

You all watched as Deucalion dropped to the ground with probably over twenty bullets in his chest. “Run!” Scott yelled, and you felt a pair of arms wrap around you and pull you behind a trash can. You stayed as still as possible hearing the bullets bouncing off the metal trash can, not wanting to risk getting injured. You glanced around watching everyone take cover, looking at Scott something came out from behind him. The familiar blue jeep rolled up, and you gasped as you saw your brother. “Stiles!” You exclaimed as you pushed yourself to your feet, and with a leap of faith started running towards the jeep, but you suddenly stopped feeling a sharp pain in your abdomen. “No!” you heard someone scream as you fell to your knees, clutching your stomach. The gunfire had stopped and all the hunters were crowding into their cars and sped away.

Stiles jumped out the jeep, and ran to you, tears streaming down his face as he knelt down in front of you to hold you up, holding his hand to your wound. “Hey, hey, hey...y/n, hey, you’re going to be okay.” he whispered, untying the flannel from around your waist and placing over the gunshot wound that was spewing blood. A small weak smile appeared upon your lips, “You came...” “Of course I came, you think you were going to do this without me.” he said, taking in your form, trying to hold you up on your knees, but all you wanted to do was lay down. “Stiles...” you whispered weakly your voice cracking as tears began to stream down your face. Stiles shook his head, “ No, you’re okay...nothing a little stitch can’t fix up.” he said to you, holding your face in a firm grasp to keep you looking at him, “Y/n, you’re going to be okay.” he said, his voice shaking. Your knees began to shake as you grew weaker and you slumped forward into his chest. “Easy, easy...” he mumbled as he laid you down in his lap, pushing your hair out your face. Blood started to form on your lips as you took in sharp, deep, wheezing breaths, “Stiles, I feel so cold...” you whispered, and he looked down at you, shaking his head, “Scott go get a jacket from my car.” he said, and Lydia stepped up, knelt down and looked at her boyfriend, “Not that kind of cold Stiles...” She said, taking his free hand and placing it in your hand and he gasped, a sob escaping his lips. “No, you’re not going to die! I promised mom I would protect you. I am not letting you die!” he said, shaking his head, holding you tightly. “Stiles you did protect me...” you whispered, groaning in pain as you squeezed his hand tightly, “I punched one of the hunters...” you said and he laughed softly, looking down at you, “Why did you do that?” “Because I have an awesome big brother who showed me how to protect myself.” you said, and smiled up at him. Stiles let a few more tears escape his eyes, and he held you tighter as he knew you were nearing death. “Tell dad I love him...” you mumbled and Stiles nodded. Your breathing began to speed up as you looked up at him, and nodding slightly with a weak smile, as your grip on his hand began to loosen, your eyes began to close, but you were trying to hold on as long as possible. Stiles sucked in a deep breath, “It’s okay, it’s okay...” he whispered kissing the top of your forehead, as he watched you take your final breaths, “I’m proud of us..” you were able to whisper as you finally let your body go, turning ice cold and your breathing completely stopping.

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fanficshiddles · 7 years

Text

The last one blooming, Chapter 7

After sharing their past with one another, Loki and Rose felt closer than before.

Rose felt better after telling someone about what happened to her on Midgard. It had been difficult, but she was happier for it. She still couldn’t quite understand what the draw to Loki was. Why she felt safe and happy around him. But the fact that she was now safe and happy, was the main thing.

She still wouldn’t venture out of her chambers unless she was with Loki. Frigga attempted to take her for a walk in the gardens one afternoon, but Rose refused to leave. Until Loki turned up that was, then he got her outside for a while.

After spending more time around Volstagg, Loki took Rose along for dinner one evening. To join Odin, Frigga, Thor, Sif and the warriors three.

‘Can I take Wolfie?’ Rose asked Loki when he went to collect her from her chambers.

‘Of course. He needs to eat as well.’ Loki smiled.

Rose was happy as she collected Wolfie and then took Loki’s hand. She was really nervous, but Loki’s hold on her hand reassured her.

She was in awe as she looked around the grand dining hall. The engravings on the walls and the roof had her nearly tripping over her own feet as she wasn’t concentrating on walking. But luckily Loki was able to pull her up to her feet in time and steady her.

‘Careful there.’ He chuckled.

‘It’s so pretty!’ She smiled up at him.

The two reached the table and Loki sat Rose down next to him. Everyone else soon joined them and Loki could tell by Rose’s scent that she was scared of Odin when he entered and still a little unsure about Volstagg.

But Odin picked up on her nerves and was quick to act.

‘It’s nice to finally meet you, Rose. And your wolf friend. What is he, or she, called?’ Odin kept his voice soft as he spoke to her. Directing attention to her toy seemed to help.

‘Wolfie.’ She squeaked.

‘Well I hope Wolfie has worked up an appetite. There is plenty of food to go around.’ Odin smiled at the child, making her smile back at him.

Loki could tell she had relaxed a little. And when the maids arrived with the food, she settled even more as she turned her attentions to the food.

‘She has a good appetite.’ Odin said quietly to Loki as Rose tucked into some meat.

‘She does indeed.’ Loki grinned.

He put some vegetables onto her plate and she scowled up at him.

‘You need to eat vegetables too, little one.’ Loki said as he ignored her scowling, finding it amusing more than anything.

He watched in amusement as she moved the vegetable around her plate with her fork. Avoiding them as she ate more meat and potatoes instead.

‘Rose.’ Loki said in a warning tone.

She jumped slightly and looked up at him, seeing one of his eyebrows moving upwards in displeasure.

‘They don’t taste good.’ She whined.

‘Have you ever tried them before?’ Loki asked.

Rose said nothing to him, but grumbled under breath at him as she glared at the vegetables, as if they had offended her.

‘If you eat your vegetables, then you can have as much ice cream as you want afterwards.’ Loki said as he playfully nudged her with his elbow, enjoying the way her face lit up at the mention of ice cream.

Odin and Frigga had been watching the two, they smiled at one another as Loki looked over to them.

‘What?’ He asked quietly.

‘She reminds me of you when you were that age.’ Odin chuckled.

Loki rolled his eyes, but couldn’t stop the small blush from creeping up over his cheeks.

He turned his attentions back to Rose, surprised yet happy that all the vegetables from her plate was gone and she was tucking into some meat again.

After they all had dessert, Loki was so happy with how relaxed she had been around two other Alphas. Laughing at Volstagg when he did something silly, and even answering some questions for Odin.

Everyone stood up, ready to leave when the meal was over.

Rose had went over to be with Sif, as she was showing her some of the runes on the walls, when Frigga got Loki’s attention.

‘Have you looked under the table?’ She asked, smirking.

‘Why?’ Loki frowned, confused.

‘Just have a look where Rose was sitting.’ She said as she tried not to laugh, turning to leave with Odin.

Loki moved Rose’s chair out of the way, lifted the table cloth slightly and looked under. There was a small pile of vegetables on the floor. Odin’s crows were already starting to peck at the pile.

‘Little madam.’ He muttered to himself as he looked over at the little omega, who was still stood with Sif. He shook his head and chuckled. He couldn’t believe that she pulled that one over him without him noticing.

‘That was a classic that you and Thor liked to pull when you were children too.’ Odin said as he passed Loki by, giving him a pat on the shoulder as he chuckled.

Rose was admiring the walls as Sif pointed out a few more things for her. She jumped when she felt Loki’s hand on her head, but she smiled when she looked up at him.

‘Ready to go? We need to have a little chat about some runaway vegetables, little one.’ He said as he looked down at her.

‘Oh…’ She blushed and looked down.

‘You’ll have to catch me first!’ Rose said suddenly as she darted away from Loki.

Loki chuckled then looked to Sif and saw her grinning at him.

‘What?’ He asked.

‘Nothing… I just haven’t seen you so happy before. It’s sweet. And you certainly have your hands full with that one.’ She laughed.

While Loki was distracted with Sif, Rose hadn’t been looking where she was going and she ran straight into Odin by accident. Her heart started pounding with fear as she looked up at the old Alpha. But her worries disappeared as he smiled down at her.

‘Loki is fast. Perhaps you should hide. Here.’ He held his cape out behind him and Rose giggled as she ducked behind him, his cape down over her.

Loki looked around the hall to see where Rose had disappeared to. He frowned when he didn’t spot her.

‘Rose?’ He called out and moved away from Sif. But then his eyes landed upon his father looking suspicious as he was just standing there, smirking.

‘What?’ He asked as he approached the Allfather.

‘What?’ Odin asked back.

‘What?’ Loki asked again, confused.

Then Loki heard giggling coming from behind Odin.

‘I wonder where my little Rose has disappeared to? Have you seen her, father?’ Loki said loudly so she would hear.

‘I haven’t seen her, no.’ Odin shook his head.

He heard more giggling from underneath Odin’s cape, it made him smile.

'Oh well… I will have to go for a ride myself with Gljásvartur all by myself.’ Loki grinned at Odin as they heard her gasp and she rushed out from beneath Odin’s cape. Making the Alphas laugh.

'I wanna go see Glarter!’ Rose said excitedly as she grabbed hold of Loki’s sleeve and started bouncing up and down.

Loki loved the way she couldn’t pronounce his horses name properly, he found it adorable.

'Fancy telling me why you didn’t eat your vegetables first?’

'They… Um… Didn’t want to be eaten.’ Rose said as she fluttered her eyelashes up at him.

'Oh and they told you that, did they?’ Loki raised an eyebrow up at her.

'Yep.’ She nodded and became distracted with playing with Loki’s hand, pressing it against hers.

'Come on then.’ Loki chuckled, giving in this time on the vegetable debate.

Soon Loki and Rose were riding Gljásvartur through the fields surrounding the city.

'Where are we going?’ She asked him as she tilted her head back against his chest and looked up at him.

Loki looked down at her and smirked. He playfully booped her nose with his finger, making her giggle.

'We don’t always need to have a destination in mind, little one.’

'Why? That’s silly.’

'What makes you say that?’ Loki asked.

'It would be pointless.’ She said in a matter of fact, tone.

'Sometimes it’s just nice to go for a ride, with nowhere to go and in no rush to be anywhere.’

'How long have you had him for?’ Rose asked as she stroked Gljásvartur’s neck.

'Around 900 years. I found him when I was a kid. Trained him myself.’ Loki said proudly.

'900? How old are you?’ Rose asked, stunned.

'I am over a thousand years old.’

'Whaaaa? You are REALLY old!’

Loki laughed at her reaction.

'Remember, this is Asgard. We are gods, we have immortality, to a large extent.’ Loki smiled.

'I wanna live that long too.’

'Do you? Well, that might be able to be arranged.’

'Really? How?’ Rose asked excitedly, as she craned her neck round to the side to look at Loki.

'When you are around 25, there is a ceremony that can be done for mortals like yourself. That the Allfather, my father, carries out. To give you the gift of time by slowing down your ageing. If you decide you still want it when you are older, then you can have it.’

'I want it now! Please! Please! Please!’ Rose begged.

'No, little one. Not until you are older. Now, no more arguing on the subject.’

'Aww, you’re a old meanie.’ She pouted.

'You will understand when you’re older.’ Loki laughed as he stroked a hand down her hair.

That night Loki was sound asleep in bed, that was until he realised there was another person in his bed with him. Turning over, he was surprised to find Rose cuddled up to him, with Wolfie too.

'Rose? Why aren’t you in bed?’ He asked.

'I had a nightmare.’ She said quietly.

'Oh sweetheart. It wasn’t real, you’re safe.’ Loki said softly as he gave her a hug and kissed the top of her head.

He was relieved that he hadn’t decided to sleep in the nude like he did some nights. He made a mental note in his mind to make sure he didn’t again, just in case she appeared again another night. He wasn’t ready to have THAT kind of talk with her yet.

'Come on, let’s get you back to your chambers. I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.’

Loki took Rose back to her chambers and into her den. He sat inside it by the entrance and was ducked down.

But Rose put her hands out towards him with grabby hands.

'Cuddles?’ She pleaded.

Loki couldn’t resist her charm, so he lay down by her and pulled her into his chest. She snuggled happily against him, finding comfort from his scent and the heat as it radiated off of his body. She fell asleep almost instantly.

Loki had only planned to stay with her until she fell asleep, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave yet. Then he ended up falling asleep as well.

The following morning Frigga was looking for Loki, as Thor was waiting for him, so she went into Rose’s chambers to see if he was there. She smiled as she found the pair asleep in the den. Rose was lying on top of his chest, he had an arm draped over her. The sight made Frigga’s heart melt.

Loki woke up as he could smell someone else in the room. But because he had been in such a deep sleep, he was a little disorientated. So out of instinct, he snarled in warning as both arms tightened around Rose, until he looked up and saw it was Frigga. He relaxed instantly with a sigh.

'Nice to see your protective instincts have kicked in already.’ Frigga smiled.

'Sorry… I don’t think I’ve ever had such a good sleep. I didn’t even mean to fall asleep here.’ Loki said sheepishly.

'That’s perfectly normal. You’re complete now. You’re most at peace with your mate in the vicinity.’ The Queen assured him. 'Thor is waiting for you, by the way. He is most impatient.’

'Damn, I forgot about the hunt. Urgh.’ Loki grumbled.

'Try not to keep him waiting for much longer.’ Frigga said before leaving.

Loki reluctantly woke Rose up. He told her he had to go out for the day, but he promised her he would be back in time for dinner.

'When are you going to explain to her about the future? Her future?’ Thor asked Loki as they rode back home after a successful hunt.

'When she is older. I’m not sure if she would entirely understand it all yet.’ Loki answered.

'I thought it was every little girls dream to become a Princess?’ Thor chuckled.

'Perhaps. But I still want to wait a few years. So she is old enough to understand our bond and realise it’s still her choice. Besides, I have to make sure that she is ready to join school next year.’ Loki sighed.

'Why are you sending her to school? Why not home school her like we got?’ Thor asked, confused.

'Do you really think that hag of an Alpha teacher would be suitable for a skittish, young, Midgardian omega?’ Loki asked as he glared at Thor.

'Oh, yeah… She was a bit of a cow, wasn’t she?’ Thor laughed.

'Yes. I will not subject Rose to… That!’ Loki growled as he thought back to the horrible home school teacher he and Thor had as children.

'Besides, it will do her good to socialise with others her age. Hopefully it will help to boost her confidence.’

#Tom Hiddleston #Loki #alpha!Loki #omegaverse #the last one blooming #fan fiction

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imagine-loki · 7 years

Text

The last one blooming, Chapter 7

TITLE: The last one blooming

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 7

AUTHOR: fanficshiddles

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that there is an omegaverse where Alphas and omegas can only bond with their true mate. Loki is an Alpha and he one day meets his omega. But she is a young Midgardian child, who is terrified of Alphas. So he has to work hard to gain her trust, to allow the bond to grow between the two.

RATING: M

After sharing their past with one another, Loki and Rose felt closer than before.

After spending more time around Volstagg, Loki took Rose along for dinner one evening. To join Odin, Frigga, Thor, Sif and the warriors three.

‘Can I take Wolfie?’ Rose asked Loki when he went to collect her from her chambers.

‘Of course. He needs to eat as well.’ Loki smiled.

Rose was happy as she collected Wolfie and then took Loki’s hand. She was really nervous, but Loki’s hold on her hand reassured her.

‘Careful there.’ He chuckled.

‘It’s so pretty!’ She smiled up at him.

But Odin picked up on her nerves and was quick to act.

‘It’s nice to finally meet you, Rose. And your wolf friend. What is he, or she, called?’ Odin kept his voice soft as he spoke to her. Directing attention to her toy seemed to help.

‘Wolfie.’ She squeaked.

‘Well I hope Wolfie has worked up an appetite. There is plenty of food to go around.’ Odin smiled at the child, making her smile back at him.

Loki could tell she had relaxed a little. And when the maids arrived with the food, she settled even more as she turned her attentions to the food.

‘She has a good appetite.’ Odin said quietly to Loki as Rose tucked into some meat.

‘She does indeed.’ Loki grinned.

He put some vegetables onto her plate and she scowled up at him.

‘You need to eat vegetables too, little one.’ Loki said as he ignored her scowling, finding it amusing more than anything.

He watched in amusement as she moved the vegetable around her plate with her fork. Avoiding them as she ate more meat and potatoes instead.

‘Rose.’ Loki said in a warning tone.

She jumped slightly and looked up at him, seeing one of his eyebrows moving upwards in displeasure.

‘They don’t taste good.’ She whined.

‘Have you ever tried them before?’ Loki asked.

Rose said nothing to him, but grumbled under breath at him as she glared at the vegetables, as if they had offended her.

Odin and Frigga had been watching the two, they smiled at one another as Loki looked over to them.

‘What?’ He asked quietly.

‘She reminds me of you when you were that age.’ Odin chuckled.

Loki rolled his eyes, but couldn’t stop the small blush from creeping up over his cheeks.

He turned his attentions back to Rose, surprised yet happy that all the vegetables from her plate was gone and she was tucking into some meat again.

After they all had dessert, Loki was so happy with how relaxed she had been around two other Alphas. Laughing at Volstagg when he did something silly, and even answering some questions for Odin.

Everyone stood up, ready to leave when the meal was over.

Rose had went over to be with Sif, as she was showing her some of the runes on the walls, when Frigga got Loki’s attention.

‘Have you looked under the table?’ She asked, smirking.

‘Why?’ Loki frowned, confused.

‘Just have a look where Rose was sitting.’ She said as she tried not to laugh, turning to leave with Odin.

‘That was a classic that you and Thor liked to pull when you were children too.’ Odin said as he passed Loki by, giving him a pat on the shoulder as he chuckled.

Rose was admiring the walls as Sif pointed out a few more things for her. She jumped when she felt Loki’s hand on her head, but she smiled when she looked up at him.

‘Ready to go? We need to have a little chat about some runaway vegetables, little one.’ He said as he looked down at her.

‘Oh…’ She blushed and looked down.

‘You’ll have to catch me first!’ Rose said suddenly as she darted away from Loki.

Loki chuckled then looked to Sif and saw her grinning at him.

‘What?’ He asked.

‘Nothing… I just haven’t seen you so happy before. It’s sweet. And you certainly have your hands full with that one.’ She laughed.

‘Loki is fast. Perhaps you should hide. Here.’ He held his cape out behind him and Rose giggled as she ducked behind him, his cape down over her.

Loki looked around the hall to see where Rose had disappeared to. He frowned when he didn’t spot her.

‘Rose?’ He called out and moved away from Sif. But then his eyes landed upon his father looking suspicious as he was just standing there, smirking.

‘What?’ He asked as he approached the Allfather.

‘What?’ Odin asked back.

‘What?’ Loki asked again, confused.

Then Loki heard giggling coming from behind Odin.

‘I wonder where my little Rose has disappeared to? Have you seen her, father?’ Loki said loudly so she would hear.

‘I haven’t seen her, no.’ Odin shook his head.

He heard more giggling from underneath Odin’s cape, it made him smile.

‘Oh well… I will have to go for a ride myself with Gljásvartur all by myself.’ Loki grinned at Odin as they heard her gasp and she rushed out from beneath Odin’s cape. Making the Alphas laugh.