#;; my emotions are a bit all over the place

[remembrancersticky]

I had a shower epiphany a few weeks ago and have just been working on cranking out this oneshot. Oh, I had so much fun with this. Thanks to @squishyowl for the dividers! They are very pretty!

You get dragged along for a fishing trip, scent a space wolf, and he carves your name onto his (metaphorical?) heart. Fenrysian is just Norwegian here for the sake of simplicity. Very fluffy given this is 40k. TW for hunting, non-sexual nudity, and cannon-typical violence. Asmundr art here and here.

Space Wolf OC(Asmundr) x Serf!Fem!Reader - SFW - 2.8k Words

The world of Silġ was not the coldest you had ever been to. But it was still the thickest part of winter on this side of the planet, and you could feel the moisture of your breath catch and freeze against your eyelashes when the wind shifted.

You waddled behind the three wolves you served today, waylaid by the heaviest furs and boots you owned and the sled-cart you pulled along behind you. The blizzard that had raged for the last month ended a few days ago, though the warp storm that trapped your ship here had not. The sky still sputtered out a sporadic scattering of snow, powdering the dense ice on which you tread.

The three in front of you wore no more than training armor and pelt. You were envious of their enhanced thermo-regulation as you flexed your fingers to stave off the chill that had seeped through your thick mittens.

“Here,” the venerable veteran, Ægir, announced, stabbing his chainsword into the ice.

You slowed as you caught up to the group and looked about. You were the only thing besides flat ice for several kilometers in any direction.

“Finally!”

The youngest, Asmundr, was not known to keep his opinions to himself at the best of times. He was brash and stubborn in every aspect of his life. He was the one that insisted you join them on this venture.

The company and ship’s crew were trapped on Silġ until the warp storm passed. You had already been stuck more than several weeks and many of the younger warriors were antsy for activity beyond their regular training. And, while rations were not depleted, it did no harm to secure supplementary provisions while they were available. Ergo, the Wolf Lord had allowed the formation of a few small hunting parties.

While you assisted the entire pack as your services were needed, Asmundr had all but named you as his personal serf. Not that he had asked anyone in particular, nor would he ever be granted a personal serf given his rank and status if he had. He was simply dogged in requesting your time, specifically. Not that you minded spending so much time with him; he had grown on you quite a bit, and you enjoyed the stories he would regale you with as you cared for his armor.

And so, here you were. Accompanying the small expedition on their fishing trip. You had given up on getting an explanation for exactly what you were meant to do beyond ferry equipment or attend to whatever unfavorable task may arise. Frankly, it was simply a nice change of pace from the monotony of the last few weeks, nice to be away from the stagnant air of the ship, and you were thankful to have been allowed to attend.

Hodr swiped his boot along the ground to disturb the thick layers of snow and reveal the solid ice beneath. Though not as old as Ægir, the scars upon his face told a story of numerous battles fought with unfettered ferocity. He was cold, stoic, but on occasion you glimpsed something wild lurking deep within his eye.

After stomping solidly on the ice without so much as a crack, Hodr gave a nod to Ægir, who activated his chainsword.

Still stuck in the ice, the blade began throwing up shards of ice and compact snow. You turned slightly and covered your face with a mitten to prevent anything from lodging in your eyes. You felt the pitter patter of debris against your form suddenly disappear. Looking up, it seemed Asmundr unthinkingly shifted his position to effectively shield you from the onslaught.

“Mortal,” Hodr called, as the roar of the sword died down. “Bring the pick and shovel.”

You pulled the tools from the sled and made your way to the hole-in-progress. In order to support the weight of three space marines (and especially the earlier stomping), the ice was undoubtedly thick. This pass with the chainsword had not even been close to reaching the water below. Hodr reached down to grapple with the large slab of ice that had been cut away while you worked on extricating the smaller shards. Once the site was cleared, Asmundr gently pulled you a step back as Ægir began his next series of cuts. This process repeated three times before a sufficient opening was formed.

Standing, you wiped the snow off of your knees and pushed the ice shards nearest the opening away with your boot. Suddenly, you felt something thick and heavy land across your back and weigh down on your shoulders. You were almost embarrassed about the surprised yelp you let out, but it was worth it to hear the youngest of the wolves let out a full bellied laugh.

“I trust you to keep this warm for me, vennen min!” Asmundr’s voice bounced with mirth behind you. You rearranged the large pelt he had thrown on you as you turned to face him. And quickly decided to look anywhere else as he undressed to the fullest extent possible.

“O-Of course, my lord.” You elected to keep your head pointed towards the sky as you extended your hands to take the remainder of his clothes. You could clearly hear the other two wolves snickering behind the sound of blood rushing through your ears. It did not seem nearly as cold out as it did just a few minutes ago.

Asmundr placed the wad of clothes in your hands with a smirk before leaning into the sled to fetch his polespear.

“Be ready, brother,” Ægir said as he nudged Hodr bodily. “You’ll have to make up the pup’s slack.”

The young pup bristled in agitation before he sharply pivoted on his brothers with a note of forced laughter. Coincidentally, you suddenly received a full view of all his glory.

“Ha! Afraid you’re not gonna be able to keep up, old man?”

You forced your eyes not to wander below his ribs, which was very difficult as he stood with his chest puffed out and fists confidently resting on his hips. Your face felt so hot that you thought the ice would melt under your feet and swallow you whole.

Despite your years in service to the Vlka Fenryka, you doubted that you’d ever understand just how…comfortable they seemed to be in their plain skin. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact they were Astartes, specifically. You’d imagine it would be difficult to feel vulnerable in any state with the physique of one of the Emperor’s Angels.

“Worried that you’ll drive the best game away in your haste.” Hodr’s voice sounded suddenly closer than you anticipated. Your heart jumped when you felt his hand reach around from behind you, lifting your chin to look Asmundr in the eyes and gently squishing your cheeks together. “It just won’t do if there isn’t enough to go around.” The narrowing of the younger wolf’s pupils was almost hidden by the steam billowing from his flared nostrils. “We can’t have thralls of skin and bone.” His whisper tickled your ear, sending a shiver shooting up your spine.

“I do not leave her wanting,” Asmundr snarled, closing the distance and gripping Hodr’s wrist tightly. You could hear something creak beneath your chin, but the grip on your face never tightened.

“Prove it.” You could hear Hodr’s grin as he finally released you.

Oh, something in Asmundr’s eyes sparked as he threw his brother’s hand away. He spared you a brief glance as he squared his shoulders and quickly cracked his neck.

“Time me!” Asmundr yelled back to Ægir as he raced to the opening and jumped into the abyss.

The air was pregnant with silence for a moment.

“Well,” Ægir laughed, rough and gravelly, “He should be plenty motivated now!”

Ten minutes. It had already been ten minutes.

A space marine could hold his breath for approximately twenty-five minutes, or so you’d been told.

You had heard from one of the company’s Kaerls that she had once heard a story of a chapter that regularly held their breath for the better part of a standard hour. You thought it sounded a bit outlandish, but you prayed now it was true as the minutes continued ticking on.

The first several minutes were spent in a bit of an awkward silence. Or, at least, you felt it was awkward. You busied yourself by meticulously folding Asmundr’s clothes and running an inventory of the little equipment in the sled before cleaning the hole of any lingering debris. You noted that Hodr’s gaze seemed to return the distant tree line frequently while Ægir whittled away on a piece of bone.

“It’s been ten minutes.” The booming voice of the veteran seemed to rattle through your chest, and you nearly lost your footing at the sudden announcement.

 The undignified sound you made as you recovered your stance drew a chuckle from the eldest wolf.

“I’m curious,” Ægir said, pointing his knife in your direction. “What do you suppose the pup’s hunting for right now?”

You stared blankly at him.

“Fish, my lord?”

That veteran laughed, tried to control himself, and began laughing some more before he started coughing.

“You’re not wrong, thrall,” he conceded. You watched a flock of dark birds chitter and flee their roost in the distance. So far away they were like a smear against the sky.

“You know,” he started back up, dropping his gaze to return to the bone figure he was making. “I was out on campaign with the pup.” A thin flake fell away from his hands. “And it was fierce, to be sure. Well, while we were holed up in some throne-forsaken pit, the daft boy starts singing. Badly, mind you, and quiet, but singing nonetheless. And so, I ask him ‘Boy, what do you think you’re doing?’” Ægir looked up and you realized that you’d thoughtlessly drifted closer as the veteran continued. “And do you know what he tells me?”

“No, my lord.”

“He says, ‘Well, that little serf sings this when she’s in the armory, and I thought maybe it would help me focus.’” Another flake fell from his hand as he scoffs, “Focus, my missing big toe.”

Ægir looked like he was about to continue, loudly, but shut his mouth and looked past you a moment before you heard it.

A loud wet thwacking noise echoed across the empty plane and time seemed to pass slower than usual as you saw a vibrant, gleaming, blue fish that could rival the stature of terminator power armor surge out of the icy depths and caress the grey sky, before making its arched decent like an angry torpedo with needlepoint teeth.

You hadn’t survived this long in such a cruel galaxy without any wits at all, and ran to give the beast a wide berth upon its impact with the surface. Its furiously flailing body splashed little droplets of water against your form, which froze solid in the cold air.

“Ha! No wonder he likes you so much,” Ægir ribbed at you, as he seamlessly stabbed the wriggling thing through the back of its head, piercing whatever brain it could have. “You scurry about like ei lita kanin!”

The burning retort that had definitely been on the tip of your tongue was tragically cut short by a sudden series of muted vibrations that traveled up your legs. Something was hitting the ice…

Your feet were moving before you could think. What help could you realistically offer Asmundr from here? You could not dive into the freezing water, you could not drag him back to safety, you could not even pull his body up onto shore without dislocating your shoulder in the attempt. But you knelt stupidly by the hole anyways; you had to be as close to his side as possible, in case he needed you. Because you would do all those useless things if he so much as hesitated in telling you not to.

Not long after, the surface of the water began bursting with bubbles of air from the depths, bringing with them deep oily blood. You called out to him, as if he would be able to hear you meters away and underwater.

“Mundi! Are you okay?!”

Time seemed to drag on for an eternity as the bubbling died down and the water remained still.

You had just started to loosen the straps of your outermost layers to dive in yourself when a crimson streak began racing towards the surface. You could feel your heart fall back into place.

Asmundr’s red hair clung to his forehead and neck as he beamed at you in pride. Or, as best he could.

The spear he lifted out of the water held four native fish, each easily as long as your arm and thicker around than both of your thighs. A massive bony fish with pearlescent armor still wiggled in his maw, cracked where his fangs dug tightly into its flesh. He threw the spear up onto the ice before hefting his bulk out of the hole.

Sitting on the ledge of the ice beside you, he pulled the fish from his teeth. His smug smile showcased the gleaming red that clung to his canines and dripped down his chin. He glanced about briefly before his expression morphed into one of confusion.

“Where’s Hodr?”

Oh. You hadn’t even noticed he’d left.

“Not far,” Ægir said. “He picked up a scent while you were out.”

“Are you okay, Mundi?” You had been keenly looking him over for any obvious injuries he may have sustained since he surfaced. He didn’t seem any worse for wear, but maybe he just rammed the ice with his thick head. You stood up to get a better look. “It sounded like you hit the ice pretty hard.”

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t near the ice at all.” Rivulets of water trickled down Asmundr’s body, his core temperature just enough to keep the water from freezing against his skin in the cold air. “Are you sure you’re not the one that hit the ice?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to be annoyed by his teasing tone. You were just relieved that he was okay.

Asmundr’s gaze turned sharply from you to the horizon at a noise you could not hear.

“Finally done batting that pest around, Hodr?”

You turned towards Ægir’s call and watched as Hodr dragged along an enormous, white-feathered land-shark behind him.

“Six minutes,” the wolf bellowed, shaking the leg of his kill. “How long was the pup?”

“Thirteen minutes!”

Something rumbled deep in Asmundr’s chest at the veteran’s announcement and he huffed in irritation. If you hadn’t just been willing to throw yourself into the icy void after your companion out of shear worry, you would have found his pouting cute.

“Mundi,” you started softly as he plopped himself away from his brothers to work on his kills. He did not look up. He was still wet and bare and the wind was still so cold and you did not think you could handle the implausible thought of him catching a chill.

“Mundi, you need to dry off,” you chided as you unwrapped the outermost fur you wore from your waist. It would be warmer and drier than the one he placed on your shoulders, which had kept you plenty warm, but also collected a non-insignificant amount of flurries.

He grumbled something as he continued to work on dislodging his kills from the spear.

You pursed your lips before running the fur across his shoulders and up his neck, before tousling his hair the best you could. You left the fur draped across his shoulders, which he gripped closed across his chest with one hand. He remained incredibly tense before in-taking sharply and shaking his upper body vigorously. You did not escape the resulting splatter.

He tilted his head back to look you in the eyes, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you recognized amusement and joy in them.

“I’m keeping this!” Asmundr announced, sounding very pleased. “But you have to hold onto this,” he tugged slightly at the pelt that still engulfed the entirety of your upper body, “for me, in return.”

The request turned something in your chest.

“Of course,” you agreed, and you couldn’t help the smile on your lips.

 He smiled up at you in turn, his eyes softening as his gaze lingered. In that moment, it felt as if something in the universe had clicked into place. After a few seconds, he abruptly looked back down and dragged the armored fish over to him.

“And,” he drew the word out for a long moment, as he began carving familiar runes into the pearlescent plating with his spear. “You need to make good use of this.” He passed you the fish barring your name, and you had to steel yourself to keep from tumbling under the weight of it.

[galadriel-blue]

Why is the TROP fandom so toxic all of the sudden?

(Rant in the tags and spoilers for S2 E7 of TROP)

[phantom-thieves-official]

something I really like about p3p compared to p5 is the extra bits of narration. I don't know if it's because the game doesn't have scenes with animated models or if regular p3 is like that, too, since I haven't played it. But like in Junpei's rank 10, when he's talking about going to see his dad, you get an extra text box that says 'Junpei's hands are trembling.' and in Shinji's rank 10 you get a few of them, one saying he toys with the pocket watch and one saying he looks down at his feet for a long time. Idk. They're nice. In p5, they use pretty much only the talking sprites and the character model animations to show emotion but things like trembling hands or staring at their feet are little things that probably wouldn't be animated but that add a lot to a scene I think.

[haru-chi]

Reading the 5th vol of 7th time loop LN .. still on chapter 2 but I gotta say ...

The way both Rishe and Arnold is like "I don't care what anyone says about me but I won't allow them to cross the line nor say something bad about you" then get angry and defensive for their sake is just killing me you had no idea 😭🩵

It has such depth to it that I wanna dig up ugh .. it also reflect both their life and personality or the way they led their life till this point ....

What I mean is ... it's kinda painful and tragic that both of them don't care much about their self-value although showing in different ways/meaning .. that it stems from different circumstances yet the end result is the same ...

Having someone be angry for you and show they actually see the real you is ... liberating .. that everything you did till this point wasn't for nothing .. that you can be you .. the real you and that's okay .. having that one person is enough for you ... that's what it meant for Rishe this kind of action ..

While to Arnold it'll have a different meaning .. he himself will never see any kind of value in himself other than bringing misfortunate maybe, he doesn't even believe he's a kind person ... even his kindness to Rishe serve a purpose to him nothing more or less ... but even so, it's still a real kindness no matter how tainted it is .. he need to realize that deep down he actually kind despite how twisted or tainted he actually is .. his kindness is still alive in him ... Rishe gonna show it to him before anyone else ... she'll let it bloom to show its true self for sure one day ... he believe the bad things people says about him ... he himself also led them to believe most of it ... maybe also deceiving himself before those which led him to actually believe that it's the real him ..

So Rishe standing up to him .. not allowing anyone to badmouth him is just ... nothing he ever experienced that he doesn't know how to feel or react about it ... maybe even feel guilty toward it ..

While I believe Rishe is confident in herself and love herself more than anyone else thanks to all her past lives ... in her first is where she went through that self-worth depression when she thought her life has ended when that idiot prince broke their engagement .. that's why current Rishe won't be that shaken with whatever anyone else says about her. She moved on from all of that.

But Arnold doesn't have that mentality toward himself, he really doesn't see any self-worth in himself. The way he doesn't care about what anyone said about him is because part of it he believe it himself, the other he don't see himself as a good or kind person and to him he doesn't worth anything. The last one is that he truly doesn't care about anyone's opinion of him. He doesn't wanna bother.

So having Rishe defend his image has shaken him differently ...

While Rishe broke her shackles long ago thanks to all her past lives, Arnold is still shackled and not free as she is ...

Ummm ... I feel I went rambling without sorting all my feelings or thoughts, so if I make no sense don't mind me. Also I'm still reading through this but I couldn't contain my emotions or thoughts and had to write it down somewhere (maybe reading on either gonna change my view or confirm it too)

But anyway, I'm in pain, in love, and screaming and I'm still in the start of this vol that I don't know if I'll handle more going forward .. they're killing me 😭🩵

[ask-dices-cups]

Some of my other favorite animated characters! ><

-Vik

{First}

[Broken Contract AU Details and Rules]

[batsplat]

The reigning World Champion got the drive out of the final corner, but not enough to make the difference over the line. So Stoner did the smart thing, attaching himself to Rossi's tailpipe, never more than a breath behind the Italian, turning The Doctor's usual tactics against the old master. Flattered by such attention, Rossi returned the compliment, looking positively Stoneresque in his obliviousness to what was happening behind him. There could have been one Ducati behind him, or a thousand, Valentino Rossi seemed to be riding in blissful, and willful, ignorance of what was going on to the rear.

(x) kinda cute if u think about it. both of them taking on the role of the other in their most infamous duel. casey turning valentino's tactics 'against the old master'. valentino 'returning the compliment' by acting like casey. the line between the pair of them blurring in the heat of battle. 'flattered by such attention'...

there's an ask I am attempting to answer rn where I'm slapping my hands not to start using agassi/sampras quotes to talk about the rossi/stoner rivalry. so I'm just gonna do it here instead. this sampras quote is not not relevant imo:

and to ME this agassi quote also works as a description of laguna 2008:

(see here for more about the agassi/sampras rivalry)

the challenges of a rivalry forcing both sides not just to adapt but also to imitate each other... the tension causing this blurring of the line between the two of them, despite how defined this rivalry is by their differences... no hope of justice, and everyone will blame the victim...

also. not to be too bold here. but this bit is also sort of valentino/casey, wherein they both have a very different understanding of what constitutes 'best' and 'worst':

casey IN SOME WAYS low key valentino's favourite rival solely during the years where they were actually competing for titles, because he's super challenging and tricky to beat and forces valentino to get creative but isn't emotionally messy and is instead kinda fun to play with. valentino switches to casey's tyre in 2008 - he has to learn to do what casey has already accomplished and succeed on the bridgestones, because that's the only way to compete against casey. valentino is a better rider in 2008 for having had to figure out the casey stoner puzzle!! admittedly he'd prefer to have done all that in a season where he spent a LITTLE more time actually racing w2w with his competitors in a way that would've played more to his strengths as a rider, but that's mostly not casey's fault... and crucially they have their One Defining Battle where valentino forcibly wrenches casey and their rivalry from casey's comfort zone to valentino's. and it's not just one race, right - the whole point of that battle is that implicitly it's valentino threatening casey by suggesting he will always do this when given half a chance. valentino learns from casey and adjusts his approach and then takes control of the rivalry by dragging casey down into the dirt with him

and then you've got casey, who very much did not love this rivalry. who is always talking about how much he learned from valentino, how he learned about having to stand up for himself on the track, with the media, had to learn to treat some riders with less respect, to suck up to the press, to race more aggressively, to sell himself better - and crucially NONE of these things he would want to be doing in an ideal world!! he doesn't want to have to ride aggressively and he CERTAINLY doesn't want to be a pr merchant. but he gets pretty good at all of these things... because he has to. because that's the sort of challenge valentino poses for him. and. again. not to get too bold here. but what's also interesting is how... there is just this sense that casey's development doesn't just help him in fighting valentino: the rivalry makes him an all-round better competitor. casey doesn't just talk about having to race valentino differently due to valentino's aggression - instead it's "after two years of racing people who don't worry about you", he's had to change. which, yes, is obviously mostly indirectly slagging off valentino, but in that same answer he's also saying EUROPEANS simply do not understand what he's talking about - this IS a grudge that extends beyond valentino, even if it's always focused around him. (obviously europeans are not inherently more aggressive riders than anglos but... let's not even touch that.) laguna is a turning point of his CAREER, not just of that particular rivalry. it made him realise he had to race only for himself, which is an ethos he carried with him even when they weren't direct rivals anymore. likewise, casey was already constantly feeling misrepresented by the media long long before valentino began working his dark magic. casey came to realise that refusing to engage with the media simply wasn't going to work for him... it's a process valentino jumpstarted, but its effects on casey's approach went beyond the immediate scope of that rivalry, eventually transforming casey into a far more effective communicator for it. casey learned valentino's tricks because that's what it takes to succeed in the sport - both in the literal sense of succeeding on-track as well as the more abstract sense of getting people on your side, selling your story to people. winning them over. even to casey, valentino remains the ultimate point of reference

and these are the parts of the sport casey wishes didn't exist, and they're all so closely connected to valentino. and THAT is where the tension comes from, because casey hates valentino in one breath and learns from him the other and always has to reckon with how much he is willing to cross his own lines to succeed. and it helped him be a better rider! but not in ways he actually liked. this grim tone in which he talks again and again about having had to learn to respond to what an arsehole valentino was... he did not want this. he did not want to have to learn these things. and yet casey ended up becoming a little more like valentino than he had been when their rivalry began. and so his discomfort with valentino becomes his discomfort with the sport becomes his discomfort with himself. and thus even for all the obvious contrast between the pair of them, the line that separates them would occasionally still be blurred

[gholdengodaily]

[Reply to] [@book-of-legends]

Mac listens to Sirius's answer intently, repeating it back to himself in his head a few times until he was satisfied he had committed it to memory. After all, actually learning something here is probably some of the best encouragement Mac could give to Sirius, but Mac's painfully aware at how quickly information can get lost in his mind, and it certainly didn't help part of his attention was caught on Sirius's prior comment on his interactions with others thus far.

What kind of Pokemon did Sirius say the messenger was, again? Ah, heck... Still, at least the important parts of the story were there. Mac returns Sirius's smile at the conclusion of his answer with a wide grin of his own.

The air above Mac's hand begins to shimmer and fizzle. A warmth radiates outward from it. Suddenly, a crack! like a can being opened, and a coin appears, falling into Mac's waiting hand.

Mac drops the coin into Sirius's hand without waiting for any kind of response. The coin is pleasantly warm like the air before its creation. A slight hum can be felt hold it, and when the light catches it right, it shines iridescent. Gold, yes, but clearly not normal gold.

[horsemage]

I think we should bring back basic etiquette lessons such as shutting the fuck up when you’re watching a movie in a group that is not exclusively your friend group 🙂

[notreallyuseless]

I'm going to be dramatic once again but can the qsmp admins and Quackity stop with talking about killing the eggs? No but for real, if they're tired of it or want to end the event, they have an easy way out without upsetting anyone: make the eggs leave. Go back to the "dragon". Whatever. The very first video about the egg event told them that the "dragon" would give a reward to the parent(s) who had the happiest egg. Go that route??? So that no one gets upset. I'd much rather have the eggs leave and we never know their fate afterward than to straight up kill them, just saying.

[uravityxo]

morning friends !! i am awake SUPER early :(( i am hoping i'll be able to fall back asleep,,, if not!! hellloooo~

[randomingoftherandomness]

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[kevin-sedai]

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[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

me: okay I'm finally going to get back to working on my review for the episode

the overwhelming urge to write an episode coda of Buck talking to Maddie:

[spacefoxy-irl]

Thank you everyone for being so lovely towards me. I have not ignored everyone's messages, I just had to take a little distance for a while. We good now, I think. 🧡

[seithr]

I GOT A ROSE FROM A KNIGHT AT THE REN FAIREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE