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saradika · 1 year

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— BLEED FOR ME | part i

[masterlist]

mand’alor!vampire!din djarin x f!reader

rated e - 1.8k

series prompts: vampire!au + “i would burn the world for you.” + vampire has a taste for specific blood + revenge + (one-sided) enemies to lovers (+ 2 to be revealed!)

tags: vampire!au, implication of drinking blood, reader has scar on shoulder, mentions of death

For the haunted hoedown! Looking forward to sharing this, I wanted to do a vamp!din last Halloween but wasn’t able to. So to work on this with the inspiration of these prompts is so exciting! I hope you enjoy! 💖

When it’s revealed that the Mand'alor is seeking a companion, you find yourself among those hoping to be chosen. A life of luxury in exchange for your blood seems a fair trade - even if you’re hiding a closely-kept secret. One that would certainly put your life in danger.

Though, you are not alone. Because he has one, as well.

The nervous energy of the crowd is palpable - it’s impossible not to get swept along with it. The cowl of your cape is tugged down lower as you follow the others streaming out ahead of you.

Out of the small town, winding around the side of the steep hill. The air growing heavier, the fog rolling in as you climb the moss-covered steps. The castle looms against the darkening horizon, all blackened stone and tall, twisting spires.

They mirror the curl of your stomach - the weight of your feet as they seem to slow, the closer you get.

But you’ve come this far. You can’t go back now.

The gates remain shut, and you’re forced to halt. Huddled together in small groups, nervous and excited whispers breaking the silence.

A shiver even with the heavy cloaks that protect the bared necks and shoulders, a detail noted on that weathered scroll left in the town square.

And for the first time, you doubt.

When it had been announced that the Mand’alor was seeking a Companion, the news has spread. It was no secret that the vampire lord had sought blood.

But he had never chosen anyone before. Never pursued someone, like this.

There had been others but they had never lasted long. Just let into the castle long enough to keep him alive for another moon.

It had amassed a crowd, those who couldn’t resist the reward that was offered - thousands of gold coins, enough to live any life they could want.

Those who wanted the fame.

Those who wanted protection.

Those who wanted to see the spectacle for themselves.

And then, there was you.

Now that you’re at the doorstep, you’re suddenly unsure. If you were chosen - once you step through - it’s unlikely you’d leave alive.

Would that be worth it?

Would you get what you were looking for?

Even after all your training, it hadn’t truly prepared you for the patchwork of emotions you feel now.

Guilt and desperation and melancholy and regret and anger - all branding into your skin until you can feel yourself trembling with the effort to hold it back.

But the gates are parting now. And it’s too late to turn back.

A figure it stepping through - her leather armor blackened with oil. Her eyes are bright, and not the shade of red you were expecting.

Her chin is held high as her eyes sweep through the crowd, an eerie silence settling over your travel companions.

And wordlessly, she begins to sort. Sizing up each person as she approaches. A quick dart of her eyes as she plucks at clothes, examines faces.

Pulling a few to one side, the rest clearly dismissed. No pattern to her choosing that you can sense - that feeling of dread ratcheting up in your stomach as the crowd grows smaller and you grow closer.

Until she’s standing in front of you.

Her fingers pinch at your chin, forcing your eyes to hers. Dark eyes under darker lashes flick across your face, until they drop down to the clasp at your throat.

Your hood is pulled back, as deft fingers unhook the brass fastenings. The wool pools on the cracked stone as your skin is exposed.

Her eyes follow the curve of your cheek, to your neck, to the sharp curves of the scar on your shoulder, just above the cut of your tunic.

A reminder of that night. One that still haunts you, a year later.

Those eyes flick back up to yours.

There’s a second where you stoop to collect your robe - feeling bare, flayed open under her gaze - but her boot presses purposely against the hem.

Shooting you a small smirk as you rise again obediently, before a hand is guiding you towards the group she had selected.

And then, it’s over.

“Those chosen will be brought before the Mand’alor.” The woman’s voice rings out, “And he shall decide from there.”

With her signal the gates creak open again, and you're ushered inside. Across a wide bridge and through a massive set of wooden double-doors.

And then, you’re inside the castle. Those doors shutting behind you with a sense of finality.

The long halls are dark, in the fading evening. The last of the sunlight filtered through tall, stained glass windows - their shadows broken into shades of crimson and silver and gold, distorted where they spill across the floor.

A chill creeps into your skin. The ice of it feels reminiscent of your dreams - that cold bite against your skin, a balm to the burning heat that had surrounded you.

It distracts you enough that you don't see him slip from the shadows. Near-silent steps as he moves to stand before the small crowd, even with the heavy plates of his shining armor.

Everything seems to go still then. The inhale of a collected breath, now held.

You should feel terror. This man - this vampire - has killed hundreds. Thousands. Has feasted on even more.

He's a monster.

The fight or flight should be sinking in - but somewhere deep inside, there is only that weight that you still carry. A prickle across your skin at the way he moves, all sleek and careful movements.

Starting where the woman guides him. His hands stay motionless - tucked in the curve on his belt, the other curling around a black hilt at his waist. Her quiet murmurs that only he can hear. As he stops in front of each one.

No expression can be leaked, with the mask he wears.

Their faces, and finally yours, reflected back at you.

You do your best to gather your courage.

To keep your chin tilted up, gazing into that dark band of his visor. As you hear the rattle of the slow inhale of his breath, as if he could smell you from beneath his helmet.

Even you can see the fear in your widen eyes, feel the small tremor in your limbs as his hand suddenly and slowly moves.

As if he can't help himself.

As if it is on instinct.

Reaching out to touch your shoulder, your neck - but then, just hovering.

Your terror catches up now. That steady beat of your heart now pounding in your chest, knocking wildly against your ribs.

The smallest flinch as his fingertips hang in mid-air, before his hand is curling into a fist.

Dropping back down.

There's the smallest jerk of his head. A gleam in the woman's eye as her hand curves around your bicep, as he sweeps from the room.

A murmur of confusion, disappointment - the rest robbed of their spectacle and entertainment. It had taken longer to get here - everything over so quickly, it feels as if you’ve only just stepped inside.

Armored guards move from their neat rows - shields raised to ward off the remainers of your group - to urge them back outside and back to their homes.

Leaving only the chosen behind.

Only you.

The woman in armor guides you quickly to your new home. Taking you through twisting corridors lined with ancient portraits, up a winding path of stone stairs.

You’re utterly lost, and a part of you wonders if that’s intentional. To keep you trapped inside. A silent realization that perhaps, you haven’t been nearly as clever as you thought.

Those worries lingering as she stops outside a heavy wooden door, lit on either side by flickering oil lamps.

“This is your room,” She tells you, her fingers resting on the door, before she’s pushing it open.

With the stories you’ve been told about the fearsome Mand’alor and the fortress he lurks in, you certainly weren’t expecting a room so… beautiful.

There’s a luxury that seems to weave throughout it. Rich wooden floors and plush rugs. A constellation of glittering stars painted on a domed, navy ceiling - as if you had invited the night sky in to stay.

Bookcases line the walls - framing a wooden desk, plush seating next to the bench that was built into the space beneath the iron-wrought windows.

Thick velvets curtains thrown back to let the setting sun in, casting the four-poster canopy bed in a golden light.

You almost forget yourself, as your fingers run across the bedspread. Finely-made beneath your touch, as soft as spun silk.

If the situation had been different… you think you might have loved it.

“There will be someone to call on you if there’s anything you want. And to take care of things during your day.” She interrupts your admiring thoughts, bringing you back.

You send a silent chastisement to yourself, as your fingers clasp - the picture of docility.

“The Mand’alor has been looking for someone for quite some time. I will give you a moment to get settled, but understand that your duties are to begin tonight.”

The pounding of your heart begins again, not realizing it would be so soon.

She must see the surprise that flickers across your face - her arms crossing as she leans in the doorway, “He has not fed since the last. We’ll all be happier once he does.”

Since the last Companion.

You wonder what happened to them. If they were used and cast aside. If they were drained dry.

If the same would happen to you.

No. You won’t let it.

“I’m happy to begin my work as soon as it pleases the Mand’alor.” Your voice is soft, and her sharp look softens.

“You’re quick.” She smiles, “That’s good. If you listen, you’re gonna be just fine.”

The nod you give is cut short, as the door closes. Left alone, your attention immediately goes to the furniture in the room. You don’t have much time.

Something used as often as a bed would be impractical, especially if someone will be tending to you as the woman says.

The bookcases touch both the ceiling and the floor, the books in neat, uniform stacks. No room for disruption.

Your fingers tug at the bench, but it’s solid wood - there’s no storage beneath.

No closet either, an empty brass rack stands against one of the curving stone walls.

Leaving only the desk, as you hurry over. The bottles of ink clinking together as the tips of your fingers run over the wooden top, and then under.

Looking for a hinge, your fingers closing around the ceramic knob as you carefully pull. Revealing a drawer full of rolled-up scrolls, a handful of quills, a thick leather-bound book.

There’s a knock then, and your pulse races.

Fingers fumbling as you reach for the fastenings of your tall boots. A creak of the door as it begins to open.

Undoing them just enough to pull the thin silver dagger and the sharpened stake free. Hastily shoving them behind the scrolls of paper inside your desk.

Before you’re pushing the drawer shut - just as the Mand’alor fills your doorway.

And the first of the 2 secret prompts are: 'this person' ordered me to kill you but i actually think i'm in love with you. (The second part to come into play!) thank you for checking this out! And hope you like this au! 🥀

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #vampire!din #din djarin imagine #haunted hoedown #hauntedhoedown

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inspofromancientworld · 13 days

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Clothing and Decoration

By Oguenther at German Wikipedia - Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15134201

Humans have been decorating themselves at least 100,000 years, perhaps as long as 300,000 years, beginning with ochre, a pigment that comes in shades from yellow to purple. Ochre was used for tools and to create pigments that decorated the skin, paint cave walls, and as part of burial rituals, even medicinally. The evidence we have are depictions of human figurines made of limestone and decorated with ochre.

F. d’Errico [modified after d’Errico et al.

Beads of various materials, starting with shells and stones, spread widely with some speculating that trade of beads is what helped with the development of spoken language. It's even possible that beads go back as far as 500,000 years, to Homo erectus, though that is debated. Whether the beads were used in adornment or used as a type of currency or trade medium only is not known for sure, but beads are widely distributed and the materials show evidence of travel (for example, marine shell beads found in landlocked areas). It is thought, though, that wearing of beads came after decoration of the body with ochre.

By http://www.nature.com/nature/videoarchive/prehistoricpinup/ image copyright H. Jensen / Universität Tübingen, Fair use, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=22799118

The earliest depictions of clothing we have is around 41000 years ago, with the Venus of Hohle Fels, which was found in Sweden, though it is possible that the decorations on the body of the Venus figurine is ochre or tattoos. Interestingly, the oldest known musical instrument, a bone flute, was found near the Venus figure, indicating that fully behaviorally modern humans lived in the area.

Based on studies of head and body lice, humans began wearing clothing about 107,000 years ago. Part of the need for clothing was that this time was that this was during the start of the Last Glacial Maximum, when temperatures started dropping and glaciers began overtaking the northern latitudes. Humans, both Neanderthal and Homo Sapiens, had spread quite far by this time. Humans developed in the steppes of Africa and weren't well adapted to the cold, with no real body hair to hold in body heat.

F. d’Errico.

Due to the organic nature of clothing, it's difficult to say for sure when exactly clothing began to be worn and what it was, but we are relatively certain that the first clothing was likely hides of animals. We have found stone and bone tools used to scrape hides from the Early and Middle Pleistocene. These tools also hold evidence that Ochre was used to color the hides. Awls, which were used in southern Africa approximately 73,000, years ago show that hides were pierced beginning very early. These awls show wear patterns of being used on soft, well-worked hides, though whether for clothing or bags, we can't know for sure. These awls spread to Europe by 45,000 years ago, though likely manufactured by Neanderthals based on the theorized distribution of various hominoid groups and remains in the locations they were found.

The benefit of using an awl to create holes in leather is that it can be shaped to the human body, making it more efficient at keeping the body warm, thus reducing the number of layers that need to be warn and allowing humans to spread further during the Last Glacial Maximum.

Approximately 40,000 years ago, in the Denisova Cave, at the time inhabited by modern humans, the first evidence of awls with eyes, or what we now know as needles, appear. This indicates that sewing together clothing, or the decoration of clothing, was becoming more common and more efficient. These needles spread widely, either through trade, contact, or independent development widely, even to the Americas and Australia. It is thought that this led to clothing being decorated more elaborately with beading and other forms of decoration.

By Osama Shukir Muhammed Amin FRCP(Glasg) - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=56200885

While plant fibres don't generally fossilize, we do have some early evidence of people using them as early as 50,000 BCE, possibly used by Neanderthals, in southern France. There is are scattered imprints of cordage and net imprints in clay. As the planet warmed and the Holocene began, weaving of plant and animal fibres, depending on the local climate and availability. While weaving may have begun as early as 25,000 BCE, flax cultivation began around 8000 BCE, and the first evidence of weaving in 6000 BCE, used as a grave wrapping in Çatalhöyük. Approximately 3000 BCE, sheep were domesticated and bred for wooly fleece as opposed to hair in the Near East. In the Indus Valley, cotton was domesticated around 2500 BCE. Evidence of weaving beginning around 10,100 BCE have been found in the Americas, specifically Guitarreco Cave in Peru, where cotton and llama and alpaca were domesticated. Intricately dyed and woven silk was well developed as a craft as early as 2700 BCE, with the first silk reaching other places in the world nearly a thousand years earlier with the very first evidence of silk being used at all dating back to 8500 BCE.

By Unknown author - http://www.booksite.ru/fulltext/nee/lov/tka/che/stvo/1.htm#1, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7483824 By Annika Jeppsson og Danmarks Grundforskningsfonds Center for Tekstilforskning (CTR), Københavns Universitet, Attribution, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=33188674 By Zhou Guanhuai - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=142167208

It seems that civilizations may have developed weaving independently, so the first type of loom is difficult to figure out as some locations show that floor looms were first, while others show evidence of hanging looms, and yet others, it seems that what is now known as a 'back-strap loom' was first, while other locations show the use of a floor loom first. Given that these objects were made mostly of organic matter, the evidence comes from art, loom weights (stone or clay weights used to keep the warp threads taut while the loom was in use. Egyptian art shows the use of floor looms, Grecian urns show the use of warp-weighted looms, many native cultures used back-strap looms prior to European contact and colonization. From what fabrics that have been found, each culture developed its own method of creating decorated fabric, either through the application of decorations or through the weaving of the fabric itself, as well as multiple weights of cloth, from fine gauze through thick rugs out of nearly any plant or animal material that could be twisted into yarn.

#body decoration #weaving #sewing #leather work #floor loom #warp weight loom #back-strap loom #fabric #human history #human development

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penny00dreadful · 2 months

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CW for this chapter on AO3

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 4/ AO3

As luck would have it, the river spat them out close to a Bedouin trading post, allowing Eddie to get decently dressed and allowing both Steve and Robin to charm the hell out of a few of the traders there.

Though Eddie would like to petulantly insist, even in his own mind, that it was all Robin, conversing easily with them in one of the many, many tongues she spoke, he couldn’t deny that Steve was getting his fair share of pinched cheeks.

But their charm got them all the equipment they could ever need for an expedition through the desert as well as a few camels to get them there. Eddie was honestly a little nervous about it.

Though this was what he had dreamed about ever since he was a little boy, listening to his mothers stories in front of the fire back in Indiana, he had never actually ventured out into a barren desert before.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud but he was thankful that he was here with Steve and Robin. They seemed far more familiar with it all and far more resilient than he had given them credit for and he knew that Robin at least, wouldn’t leave him to burn up into a crisp of a human being out on the sand.

Travelling on camelback was both similar enough to, and nothing at all like, travelling on horseback.

Which was to say, Eddie wasn’t the best at it, but he made do.

He got better as time went on and boy did time go on.

By the time they had reached their destination (a nondescript point in the sand that Eddie could see nothing unique about, but that both Robin and Steve seemed to make a beeline for) they had been travelling for about forty hours.

He was half asleep on his camel, he was hot, there was sand everywhere and he was god damn thirsty all the time.

But as Robin and Steve stared out into the darkness of early morning, they heard hoofbeats approaching.

It was the Cowboys and that one Tommy guy that Steve seemed to have a contentious relationship with.

Eddie was definitely not curious about it at all.

He didn’t care what kind of history they had.

He didn’t.

And anyway, it wasn’t his business so…

He didn’t care.

Evidently, neither did Steve because he just sent a short glare towards Tommy before looking back out over the desert.

“Bet you $500 we make it to the city first.” One of their opposing party said, a blonde, curly headed guy that Eddie was pretty sure was called Billy.

Steve rolled his eyes with a little scoff. “Yeah, sure.”

The other group definitely had numbers on their side. What looked to be at least thirty locals on their own horses, all of them just as confused as Eddie and the Cowboys about why they were just standing around to… what?

Watch the sunrise or something?

The only ones who looked like they knew what they were waiting for were Steve, Robin and Tommy.

“Get ready for it.”

Eddie turned to look at Steve.

“For what?”

He nodded back out towards the horizon, adjusting the reins in his hand. “We’re about to be shown the way.”

Slowly, the sky turned warmer, the sun peeking up over the edge of the world, and something shifted in Eddie’s periphery.

A mirage formed in the sand in front of them, a great swirling image, an illusion like a ruined city taking shape out of water and heat vapour but… it has to just be an illusion, right?

Except no, it couldn’t be because it had stopped fucking swirling and now… now there was just a large, towering and crumbling city standing in the sand ahead of them.

Before Eddie even had a chance to comprehend what the fuck was happening, there was a shout from Tommy and everyone had set off, full tilt towards the ruins.

Despite Eddie’s slow start, he refused to lose to Steve’s… ex or his fucking adversary or like… whatever unrequited love nonsense that was going on there.

Not that he cared but he just didn’t want to fucking lose.

He needn’t have worried anyway. His camel seemed to be his best friend and before he knew it, he was pulling ahead of everyone.

Honestly, it probably had more to do with the fact that the others had ended up trying to shove each other from their saddles in order to get there first.

Robin probably would have won if she’d tried, but she was having the time of her life just riding on a running camel, a wild smile on her face and a hand in the air.

She didn’t care.

So Eddie was the one who got all the glory and he got a good first look at everything around him.

Like most ruins in Egypt, it was a fuck ton of sand, broken and buried monuments sticking out of the ground and not much else. No visible way to get to the rest of the ruins sitting below.

But off in the distance, he noticed a statue of Anubis, staring at him, practically calling him forward, half entombed, only his head and shoulders visible.

It was out of the way and the Cowboys had already begun to settle along the most obvious entrance, probably where they thought they’d find the most treasure, but this Anubis statue…

In theory Anubis would be guarding the chamber where this mysterious Book of Amun-Ra was kept, so Eddie powered forward, expecting Steve and Robin to follow, which they did.

They looked at him curiously as he circled the statue but didn’t argue with him. Apparently they trusted his knowledge well enough to just go along with it and he tried not to get too puffed up with pride about it.

Just as he had read about, there were large metal circles, needing to be polished, dotted around the statue and he explained to Steve and Robin, but mostly to Steve (Robin had read a lot of the same books as him after all) that these were mirrors to be used to reflect the sunlight and illuminate the passages below, easily accessible, hidden under one of the disks.

Steve had a pensive look on his face, like he was listening but not really taking it in, his mind far away on something else.

Eddie rolled his eyes and figured he could leave the rest of the explanation up to Robin if the guy couldn’t even be bothered to listen to him.

Just before he turned he saw Robin deliver a kick to Steve’s leg and he grinned to himself a little with it.

But only a moment later he felt something nudge against his arm.

When he turned back again, Steve was standing in front of him, unusually bashful and holding out a cloth roll to him.

“For you.”

Eddie took the roll in his hands, feeling the weight and heft, looking back up at Steve, confused.

“It’s something I— uh… borrowed from the others—”

“The Cowboys.” Eddie interrupted with a little snort.

Steve’s shoulders were practically up around his ears and his hands were stuffed into his pockets. “Right. Yeah uh… the Cowboys. I just… thought you might like it— I mean need it so um…. Yeah. Just- y’know. Uh. Yeah.”

Eddie blinked at him, mouth hanging a little open, not sure in any way what to do with what just happened.

Steve glanced down, his eyes resting on Eddie’s slightly parted lips for barely a second before he turned and almost scampered away, practically hiding himself behind Robin and pretending to busy himself with the ropes.

Unrolling the cloth in his hands, Eddie found himself looking down at a small archeological kit, scrapers, hammers, chisels and a few brushes. Everything he could need.

There was a blush rising up on his face and he too had to turn away to hide it.

It only took a few more minutes before Steve had the rope ready to swing them down into the cavern below.

Eddie was fucking ecstatic. He was here. He was fucking doing the damn thing, finally getting to explore the places he’d dreamed about for so long.

He practically bounced over to a metal disk on a stand and after he had brushed the cobwebs away and with Robin’s help, shifted it a little to the side enough to catch the light of the other mirrors above, reflecting the sun.

The chamber was lit with a gentle glow and Eddie was practically vibrating with energy, staring around him in wonder.

“Do you realise,” he almost whispered into the quiet of the ancient underground chamber, “that we are standing where people have not stood for over 3,000 years?”

His wide eyes landed back on Steve, who was not looking around the ancient and unexplored chamber, but was instead watching him for some fucking reason.

Robin was off to the side, having her own moment of excitement, wide eyes drinking in everything around her.

Eddie looked up and around as well, finally realising what kind of room they had landed in.

“It’s a seh-netjer, a preparation room.” He told the two of them and Robin nodded along. “For the journey into the afterlife.”

“Preparing what? Mummies?” Steve asked, hand twitching up like he was going to grab his gun.

Eddie rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to disparage anyone’s superstitions but what was Steve going to do? Shoot a mummy?

Without a glance back, he headed off down a corridor, the two of them following behind and Robin confirming to Steve that yeah, mummies.

“Eddie!” Steve called after him, his voice echoing around the hallway. “Don’t run off.”

Eddie just snorted, opening his mouth, intending to quip back that his uncle had been telling him not to run off since he was a little kid and it had never worked then so why would it work now, but he didn’t have a chance to speak a word.

A sudden loud and skin crawling chittering started up around them, surrounding them, seeming to come from inside the walls.

Eddie flinched back but he didn’t let it deter him from continuing to move forward, only sparing a passing glance over his shoulder to the other two with a light “Bugs, probably.”

He didn’t miss the grim as fuck look Steve and Robin shared, but he put it to the back of his mind.

He didn’t think Robin was the superstitious type, but maybe she was just humouring her friend.

Either way, that was far less important than the looming bottom half of a statue in front of them.

The head of Anubis was above the ground overhead and now Eddie was staring at the god’s legs and his plinth with almost childlike excitement.

He had only gotten close enough to touch it when the sound of echoing voices further down the corridor drifted towards him and he found himself silently shoved into it, his back hitting the stone and again, sandwiched in between Steve and Robin, who both loosened a gun from one of their holsters and cocked them, holding them aloft, while Eddie was stuck holding his archeology tools and the torch.

Though he was not willing to be left out again, he hastily stuffed the tools in his cross body bag and reached across Steve’s body to pull his other gun from his chest holster and followed suit, cocking it and holding it aloft.

Steve turned to glare at him and Eddie shot back the very grown up response of sticking his tongue out.

When a small stone skittered towards them, kicked by something, all three of them took it as their queue to jump out, guns raised and ready for whatever was on the other side of the statue.

They found themselves faced down with more barrels, many more than the three they had.

The Cowboys.

There was a pause of only about a second where they were all deciding whether they needed to keep the guns up or not, but with one charming flash of Steve’s pearly whites, they were all grinning at each other, shrugging their shoulders like this was the funniest thing in the world and slowly letting their hands drop.

“Hey!” Shouted one bespectacled member of the other party, Eddie thought his name might have been Fred, glaring down at the archeological tools Steve had stolen, sticking out of Eddie’s bag. “Those are mine!”

Steve and Robin had their guns back up in a flash. Steve’s mouth was in a hard line and Eddie was too slow to react at the same time they had, his own gun still limply at his side while the two of them practically shouldered in front of him.

“I don’t think so.” Steve’s tone of voice was snappish and mean while also managing to be entirely too confident, but it still had something warm growing inside Eddie’s chest to be…what? Defended? Protected by Steve?

God, no. No, no, no.

The Cowboys raised their own guns again in response and they were back at square one while Fred visibly backed down, muttering out a quick “Perhaps I was mistaken.”

“Well it’s been lovely seeing you fellas,” Eddie poked his head out over Steve and Robin’s bracketed shoulders, “but we’ve got work to do so—”

“Fuck off.” Billy scoffed, not taking Eddie’s demands seriously at all. “This is our site.”

“You fuck off!” Eddie snapped back. “We got here first!”

Billy laughed back, condescending and demeaning, eyes sliding off Eddie completely and instead over to Steve, like Eddie wasn’t even worth conversing with.

Eddie would have usually taken extreme offence to it, because he was a fantastic conversationalist if he did say so himself, but his eye had been caught by a gap in the floor.

He nudged his shoe over it, listening hard for the small rocks he’d kicked in and hearing them echo as they fell, telling him there were rooms or chambers of some kind below.

“C’mon Harrington.” Tommy grinned at him, an attempt at the same charm Steve exuded without even trying, nudging his head around at the guns levelled towards the three, clearly outnumbered. “Your odds aren’t looking so good.”

In response, both Robin and Steve glanced at each other, guns still held aloft. They smirked at each other, cocky and sure in themselves before turning their eyes back to Tommy.

“We’ve had worse.” They said in unison, arms never wavering.

The tension was ratcheting up and if Eddie didn’t do something immediately it would explode over. He hoped his hunch turned out right.

“Okay!” He said, coming around to Steve’s other side, so he was no longer sandwiched in between the two. “Have we had enough of the dick measuring, Buckley included?” Eddie placed a hand on Steve’s bare forearm, feeling the hair underneath and his fingers closing over the thin and delicate skin along the inside. “There’s no reason we can’t share, right? There are other places to dig.”

Steve’s eyes were boring into his own, searching but not questioning. Immediately trusting and Eddie had no idea what he had done to earn that kind of trust but he was thankful he had it.

Eddie’s risk paid off, thank christ. There was a chamber below.

Based on his calculations, the plinth Anubis was resting on was directly above them and if they continued to dig upwards, they should pop up right between his legs.

He said as much to Robin and Steve as all three of them had their various tools in hand to chip away at the ceiling above them.

“Right between his legs?” Robin asked, her pickaxe lodged unmoving above her. “That’s something you’d be used to, right, Munson?”

Eddie scowled, shoving at her shoulder and she allowed the momentum to carry her a few steps back, laughing.

With a hop back up, she grabbed her pickaxe with two hands and dangled from it, trying to pull it back out.

“When those men are finished swinging the dicks around and thumping on their chests, no offence,” She aimed the last part at Steve and Eddie who both waved her off, “we’ll be able to steal that book, right out from under them.”

Steve was standing next to him, both arms raised over his head and muscles flexing as he gripped Robin’s pickaxe with her and tried to pull it out.

It still wouldn’t budge.

“You’re sure this compartment is in there?” Steve grunted.

Eddie had to close his mouth. He hadn’t even been aware it had been hanging open. He was only able to nod as Steve looked over his shoulder at him.

After a solid hour of all three of them trying to yank the pickaxe out, they decided that a break was in order. So while Steve and Robin sat and cleaned their weapons, trying to get all the dust and sand out, Eddie was left pacing up and down the room, quite literally kicking rocks and trying to find something to entertain himself.

Eventually he just ended up rambling at the two of them.

“And that’s not even the most fun part. The brain has to come out too and it’s a really, really delicate process because if the person doing it isn’t skilled or like… careful enough, they could cave the whole face in and you need your face in the afterlife, right?”

Eddie turned on his heel, starting his trek back up the room. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Steve’s gaze following him with a look of disgusted horror.

“So, what? They just pop the top of your skull open to get the brains out?”

“Oh no.” Eddie shook his head. “They pull them out through the nose–”

“—Excuse me, the nose?!”

“Yeah.” Eddie turned again, making his way back. “Then the other organs get removed and dried out. Depending on what dynasty you’re talking about then they’ll be put in the canopic jars, except the heart. The heart gets put back inside. Then they’ll rinse your body with wine and spices–”

“That part doesn’t sound so bad.”

Steve wasn’t even pretending to work on his weapons anymore, he was just openly watching Eddie as he traipsed up and down.

“You won’t be feeling any part of it.” He waved his hand in Steve’s direction. “It’s mummification. You’ll be dead.”

“Okay, well. For the record, if I die down here, don’t put me down for mummification.”

Eddie couldn’t help the little snort that came out of him.

“You think you’re important enough to deserve mummification, Stevie?” He grinned, coming to a stop in front of him. “Are you a Pharaoh? Nobility? A priest? A King?”

Steve just shrugged, blinking up at him with an upturned curl of his mouth. “I might be.”

“Well then, King Steve, I hope the afterlife accepts you as such.”

Robin pushed herself to her feet with a roll of her eyes and a heavy sigh.

“You two are insufferable.” She said, walking around them to tap her hand against the pickaxe still in the ceiling.

She had no sooner made contact with it when there was the sudden and loud sound of crumbling above them and in the next second something heavy and huge had fallen into their chamber and Eddie couldn’t see anything anymore.

He stumbled back, his lungs and eyes filled with dust and the loud crash scaring the everloving shit out of him.

His heel hit something and then he was falling, tumbling backwards. But before he could hit the ground there was something solid and warm behind him, arms around his waist and he was being pulled, dragged away from the still settling cloud surrounding them.

“Robbie!”

It was the most panicked Eddie had heard Steve sound in the few days he’d known him and it was both terrifying and a little comforting to know he was at least a little human.

“I’m good!” Her voice called back from the opposite side of whatever had fallen through the ceiling.

Eddie blinked his eyes a few more times and when he was finally able to take in what was in front of him, he practically jumped out of Steve’s arms and started flitting around it like an excited bee.

“Oh my god.” Eddie ran his fingers over the top of the large stone coffin that had practically fallen into their laps. “It’s a sarcophagus.” He looked up.

The base of Anubis was visible above them, still enclosed. Clearly the other Cowboys hadn’t gotten in yet.

Across the top, where a title or name should have been inscribed were the words “He who shall not be named.”

Eddie blinked down at it.

“Pretty ominous to put on your final resting place, don’t you think?” He asked, with a glance up at Robin who was also examining it with an almost singular focus. “He was either someone very important or very bad. Anubis must have either been escorting him to the afterlife or keeping a close eye on him.”

Steve nodded along absently, his eyes trained on an indentation he’d just blown some sand out of.

“There's some sort of mechanism here.” He tapped it. “These things are made of—?”

“Granite with a cobalt lining.”

“Well.” Robin rested her hands on her hips. “Whoever’s in here, they sure didn’t want him getting out.”

Steve leaned in a little closer, getting a good look at the indentation. “Looks like… it needs a key or something?”

Eddie snapped his fingers, startling the other two. “They guy! The guy on the boat!” Without a second of hesitancy, he plunged his hand into Robin’s pocket and pulled the puzzle box out. “He was asking about a key!”

Robin grumbled at him groping her, as if that had been his goal. Eddie ignored her, popping the puzzle box open, fitting it onto the lock, anticipation fizzing through his veins.

Just as he tightened his fingers, gripping the key and intending to turn it, the sound of a scream echoed through the corridor behind them.

Steve was off like a shot, practically being called to action, Robin hot on his heels.

Eddie glanced back down at the puzzle box, momentarily wondering if he could get away with staying and turning it, before stuffing it into his pocket and following the two out.

He didn’t get very far, just barely at the entrance to the room they were in before he was held back by a hand on his chest.

He could hear the screaming getting closer, the sound of raw terror and fear that did something unspeakable to his lizard brain, telling it to run, hide, help.

Rapid footsteps approached and one of the Cowboy party came running at them, pelting down the corridor like the devil himself was on his ass.

He didn’t slow down as he passed them, didn’t even notice that there were people around him or that he was running full speed towards a dead end.

With a sickening crunch, the force met the object, the guy practically running head first into the wall and crumpling to the ground like a sack of potatoes, still and unmoving.

Not even breathing.

Eddie felt like he couldn’t catch his breath in sympathy.

He couldn’t tear his gaze away, his eyes stuck wide and unblinking as his brain tried to comprehend what had just happened in front of him.

He didn’t stop looking when Robin gently tugged him against her, he didn’t stop looking as Steve moved away, kneeling down to check the guy over and allowing his hands to fall back to his sides after pressing two fingers into his neck.

He could only look away when he was physically turned away by the two, escorting him slowly out of their underground cavern, muttering to him that he just needed some fresh air, held tight between them.

Eddie stared into the fire with his back to the distant party of Cowboys at their own camp.

He couldn’t watch them mourn their friend. He couldn’t watch them figure out how they would transport his body back.

He couldn’t watch some of their party leave with him to bring him back to his family.

Maybe that made him a coward, but right now, he didn’t really care.

He hated not having answers to things and this was one of the big ones he was in the dark about:

They had no idea what had happened to him.

In addition to that, as Steve settled himself down gently at Eddie’s side, a hand running up and down his back, he told both himself and Robin that it hadn’t been the only death of the day.

Turned out the Cowboys had tried to get into the plinth of Anubis and a few of them had fallen victim to the infamous ancient Egyptian booby traps.

They had ended up being sprayed with salt acid, killing them.

“Seems like standard shenanigans for a cursed land.” Robin muttered to herself.

Both she and Steve were shockingly unaffected. It wasn’t that they were uncaring, they just seemed to be taking the deaths much more in stride than Eddie was.

Like ancient boody traps and mysterious death were all business as usual.

Eddie rolled his eyes at her.

The land wasn’t cursed.

There was an explanation for all of this.

Though it might not be obvious to them right now, there was always an answer.

Steve bumped their shoulders together.

“You don’t believe in curses?” He asked with a little grin, apparently trying to lighten the mood but the jury was out on whether he was succeeding or not.

“We’ve been over this King Steve. I don’t. It’s a ridiculous notion. There’s nothing out there. If I can see it and feel it, then it’s real. If it’s not, then it’s not.”

“That’s a cute idea, but–” Steve picked up a large firearm he’d called an elephant gun in demonstration, “–I believe in being prepared.”

Eddie laughed a little to himself with a small shrug, trying to stop the fizzing in his belly. Despite how much Steve grated against him, his steadfast conviction was at least a little endearing.

“I think I know how I can liven up this party, if you’ll excuse the gallows humour.” Robin flashed the two of them a grin before producing a bottle of Seagrams whiskey from behind her back. “A gift from our Cowboy friends as a thank you for…” She waved her hand around, trying to find the right words without appearing too insensitive, “... being with him at the end.”

She looked at the two of them, waiting for one of them to make a move but when they both just continued to watch her, she shrugged and popped the bottle open herself.

No sooner had she raised it to her lips than Steve tilted his head, ever so slightly, listening out for something behind them and Robin almost dropped the bottle, straightening up and grabbing for her own gun.

The three of them sat frozen, Eddie’s eyes darting between the two, waiting for something to happen because he could hear nothing.

In one swift movement, Steve had shoved the giant elephant gun into Eddie’s arms and jumped to his feet, loosening his two revolvers from their holsters and he was gone.

Eddie was left staring after him open mouthed, nearly falling backwards when Robin jumped over the fire to follow Steve out of their camp, her own guns ready.

Eddie’s mouth hung open, awkwardly clutching onto the gun in his hands and it was only then that he heard the hoofbeats rapidly approaching, when they were almost in the camp and not a second later, the first gunshot went off.

He didn’t know if it was the Cowboys who had fired it or if it was fired at the Cowboys but either way, Eddie couldn’t just sit there.

The gun was fucking heavy and cumbersome and honestly Eddie wouldn’t still be holding it if it didn’t feel like a safety blanket to have amongst the shouts and whinnies and gunfire going on around him.

It was fucking chaos.

Dark hooded men atop their horses in an all out gunfight with the Cowboys and, of course, Steve and Robin right in the middle with them, a singular focus on both of their faces, like old veterans.

Eddie was stuck, staring at the carnage around him and had no idea what to do.

Should he jump in and help? Should he drop and hide?

The decision was taken away from him when he spotted one of the men on horseback spot him and make a bee-line for him.

With his heart thundering in his chest and his throat closing up in fear, Eddie fiddled with the gun in his hands, somehow managing to cock it in his panic.

The two of them raised their guns at the same time and Eddie made what was probably not the best decision of his life.

He squeezed his eyes closed and pulled the trigger.

It was like he’d been hit by a fucking train.

The kickback took him clean off his feet and the shock of the sudden and extremely loud noise so close to him stole his breath away.

He sailed backwards, landing hard into the sand, chest aching, ears ringing, dizzy and unable to get a good breath in.

The stars above him swam and it felt like it took an entire age to get a good lungful of air.

He didn’t know where the gun had landed. He didn’t really fucking care. He didn’t want to go near it again.

God damn it, he just wanted to find some buried artefacts, why was this turning into a whole thing?

A face came into focus above him, dashing hair and moles and hazel eyes, looking down on him in worry.

Eddie found himself being pulled to his feet with careful hands, arms holding him tight and close, steadying him as he was still swaying a little.

The camp was quiet and a light breeze danced over them, like nothing had happened. Eddie would have thought nothing had happened if the chaos of hoofprints weren’t still visible in the sand and the smell of gunpowder wasn’t surrounding them.

“Are you alright?”

Steve took his chin gently between his fingers, tilting his face back and forth, looking for any sign of injury.

There were knuckles brushing over his cheek and the slightest touch against his bottom lip and Steve was looking at him, eyebrows slightly raised, waiting for an answer.

Eddie’s responding exhale was shuddering, escaping out through his parted mouth and he swallowed.

“I’m okay.”

Eddie was so not okay.

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 4/ AO3

Happy birthday @hbyrde36

My biggest thanks and much love to @pearynice and @hitlikehammers for the beta work with this and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation!

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #penny00dreadful #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #fanfic #stranger things fic #ao3 #the mummy au #eddie as evie #steve as rick #enemies to lovers #the mummy #1920s

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taki-yaki · 6 months

Note

What if Tav is a fey from feywild, or part fey? I don't have a particular race in mind, just wanted to see Astarion and fey Tav to be chaotic gremlins together

Love stuff to do with the fey, Tav from the fey wilds would create so much chaos together with Astarion. Although in usual D&D terms, the closest to part fey would most likely be a Hexblood. So I’ll be doing a Hexblood Tav who was mainly raised in the fey wilds for most of their life.

Hexblood Fey Tav Headcanons

You began your life as a creature of the fey before a deal gone south with a hag forced you out of your plane to the realm of Torri.

Of course, you would try to get by in this realm with your usual fey antics, of course not too long after, whilst on the road to your next performance, you get abducted by the nautiloid.

Making you curse the chaotic whims that fate throws at you.

Upon meeting your new travelling buddies for the first time, you try to keep your distance from them at first, in fear that they might try to offer you something, believing it to be a trap, binding you to them, forced to do their bidding. You even give them a fake name, instead of telling your real name, taking any precautions from being enslaved any further.

However after the third night of attempting to cook for yourself, you eventually cave after the sweet savoury smells of Gale’s cooking plague you, giving in to the temptation and never looking back since.

Most members of the group saw you as too carefree at times, rather choosing to do what you like at random times. It isn’t until you reach the swamp and finally meet Auntie Ethel, that you seemly completely switch, tearing into the hag with a sense of rage, trying to reenact your revenge upon the kind who stripped you of your home.

Most of your companions are initially taken aback, stating how you could have gone about a less brutal way of defeating the hag, but what’s done is done. Astarion though, just watches over the scene with joy, seeing your victory as a sign of strength. power.

Later that night Astarion approaches you with the offer for a romp in the woods, this makes you hesitate for a second before he says that it’s a fair offer after you gave him some of your blood. At first, you mainly see your relationship as transactional, in fear of being permanently indebted to him, but it isn’t until over time you both start to see your relationship as less transactional. At first, it feels weird to you not to do anything in return for him at times, but you quickly get used to it.

“So I don’t have to sing you a song and dance before receiving a kiss?”

“Well no, but if you want to, then I’m more than happy to watch you flap around like a headless chicken.”

During most of your early travels with Astarion, he would be in awe over how much colour there is during the day, but you state how it seems drab compared to the bright wonders that the fey wild had to offer.

Throughout your travels to Baldur’s Gate, whenever someone approaches you with a request to solve an issue or problem they are having, you’d usually reply with a, “What’s in it for me”, then proceed to go about solving the issue either destructively or chaotically.

A rat infestation? Well, a large fireball in such an enclosed space will make it quick and easy.

Need to clear out the nearby goblin camp? A few powdered keys should do.

Aside from your destructive tendencies, you also love to play tricks on others, whether they deserve it or not, it doesn’t matter. With you and Astation being a tag team duo, while you would create a crowd to distract people with a song or dance, Astarion would sneak around attempting to pickpocket as many people as he could.

Other antics would include trading for weird items, such as attempting to purchase a sword or magical artefact, you would cast an illusion on some nearby rocks to give them the appearance of gold pieces. Followed by having to run from the now enraged shopkeeper, whilst Astarion is in hysterics.

Despite most of your fey traits mainly giving other members of the group grief, one condition you hated was your weakness to iron, even if a ring was placed on your finger for a few seconds, it would leave a slight burn mark in its place.

This came especially apparent one time, during a fight in which you were surrounded by bandits each brandishing an iron dagger or blade, ready to strike at you.

As soon as the first blade makes contact with your flesh, you let out a loud shriek of pain as the tip of the blade leaves a large burn mark on your skin. Alerted by your cry Astarion rushes to your side, quickly taking out the rest of the bandits, before carrying you to safety.

Back at camp, he’d tend to your wound, and whilst holding you close to him he’d softly chastise you mainly out of concern.

“Be lucky that this is only a small wound, just next time stay by my side and don’t rush out like that next time.”

After the fall of the netherbrain, realising how much this realm had to offer to you, Astarion suggests going around exploring more of faerun as hunters, maybe even finding the hag that cursed you and enacting your revenge. After all you did free him from his tyrannical ex-master. Over the 6 months the two of you spend travelling all across faerun, you eventually learn to bask in the wonders that this plane has to offer.

One late night, whilst lying in your shared tent, you turn to face Astarion, feeling as if you have a heavy weight to lift from your chest, you speak “I have something to tell you.” He’d look at you with slight surprise, were you going to break up with him after all this time, “It’s about my name” you spoke sheepishly

“What about it my love, I think it’s a nice name.”

“Well, I may have given you a fake name, I was worried you would use it as leverage to bind me into a contract of sorts”

He laughs a bit upon hearing this, and you swiftly reply with “Well it may not seem like much to you but it’s a big deal to us fey.”

“Alright, would you do the honours of telling me your name my love?” whilst trying to do a small bow motion while lying down. Leaning closer, you whisper into his ear in your native tongue of Sylvan, your true name, before leaning back waiting for his response. He looks at you for a while before the expression on his face goes soft “Well I think it’s a beautiful name, regardless of what it is, you will always be my darling.”

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion headcanons #bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 #had fun writing this one #adding some slight angst and fluff so a bit of both worlds

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donutsupremacy · 10 days

Text

Victory

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Summary

"A new face had been spotted around the Fortress of Meropide, earning themselves a name by challenging others to a duel, and it was a surprise to see them winning fights left and right. They even challenged you! What a joke! And of course you were going to put them back in their place! After all, only a fool would challenge the duke's [S/O]."

Warnings/Spoilers

Written during 4.6

Gender neutral reader

Reader has a Pyro vision and wields a catalyst

Reader isn't the traveller

Traveller's existence is irrelevant/ not mentioned

Post-Archon Quest Fontaine

Physical fighting (Boxing with elements)

Reader is basically Pyro Wriothesley

Lots and lots of 3rd grader trash talking

Flirting, lots and lots of cringy flirting

Fluff and gotta sprinkle in some tiny bit of angst

TW: Scars (If you're uncomfortable with them)

A/N: Good to be alive again :D (Had an idea to write Albedo fic for his birthday, ended up getting swarmed with homework for the past few months, so after this I'll work on Albedo fic)

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Your romance begins here

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"Is this really worth it?"

"Oh, absolutely." You replied without a single hint of hesitation in your voice when Rousimoff, the Pankration Ring host, questioned.

You eyed the man standing on the opposite side of the ring, his biceps flexing and his Electro vision danging by his belt. This nobody challenged you, and you weren't a coward to put your reputation on the line. Especially with your recent win streak.

Rousimoff scoffed, patting your back, but the amusement and excitement in his eyes was obvious. There hasn't been a more exciting fight since the last time you entered the ring.

"Aren't you supposed to be on arrest or something?" Rousimoff questioned, a doubtful expression on his face.

You let out a 'pfft!', waving your hand dismissively. Sure, you were technically banned from any form of fighting because you may or may not have attacked an inmate who was spreading rumours about you, but they were asking for it! "Arrest, shm-errest. Wrio will understand! Besides... I've got nothing better to do." You retort.

"Just don't make a mess on the ring, alright? Last guy left a huge hole on the floor and the duke gave me an earful for it." Rousimoff sighs, rubbing his temples. It took a while to get that dent fixed, and you were pretty well known to make a mess without realizing.

"Hey, c'mon now." You nudged his shoulders. "You and everyone else get a good show, I get to kick someone to the curb. Fair trade, no?" You laughter sounds, attracting your opponents attention, whose cocky grin met yours.

"All ready?" The host asked, nodding his head to a group of your fellow inmates, some cheering on for you while the other half was rooting for your opponent to break your victory streak.

You stood up from your seat, rolling your shoulders and cracking your fist, your Pyro vision shining as you felt adrenaline pumping through your veins. Lately, you only had enough time to spar with some friends for about a few minutes, this was the first time you were about to have a full-on brawl with some random newbie after months of no action.

This was going to be fun.

. . . . . . . . .

The smell of sweet tea hung in the air as Wriothesley examined the mechanical gauntlets, flexing his fingers and moving his hand slightly to check on the movement limitations. A young man stood in front of his desk, anxious and slightly hunched over, waiting for his client's input.

"Great, seems like everything's back in order." Wriothesley spoke, nodding in approval as he donned his usual grin. "You have my gratitude."

The young man lets out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding in, slouching slightly to relax for a few seconds before standing up. With a polite bow, the young man quickly left the office, giving Wriothesley some privacy.

The Cryo vision wielder sat back down behind his desk, putting away the gauntlets as he picked up the cup of tea, blowing it to cool the liquid down slightly.

The Fortress of Meropide seemed to be more chaotic than usual as of late, especially when that new inmate got registered. Supposedly charged for multiple cases of assault, it was no surprise that he was the root of trouble, causing numerous disturbance to the other inmates.

As much as he'd like to interfere to keep the peace and balance within the fortress, it was supposedly a 'fair fight' since the inmate was given full consent, which meant that it was technically more of a duel.

Plus— Wriothesley needed some relaxation, after the whole ordeal with the prophecy and the catastrophe that nearly ended Fontaine. He was glad that now he had some time for himself.

"Some peace and quiet..." Wriothesley mumbled in relief, lifting the cup to his lips that quirked into a smile. It was time to relax.

"Your grace!"

The sound of the door slamming below his office startles Wriothesley, flinching as a few drops of tea spilled onto his desk. He groans quietly, putting the cup back down as the sound of footsteps climbed the stair case. "And... not a moment too soon."

"Your grace! It's about your [S/O]!" The guard exclaimed as soon as they reached the top of the stairs, one hand on the railing with the other on the hip and slightly hunched over, panting and out of breath from running.

His brows perked in surprise, did you get in trouble again? You were supposed to be on 'probation', too! You really didn't know when to rest, huh?

"What happened to them being supervised?" Wriothesley questioned, arms crossed and a disappointed frown on his face.

The guard gave a sheepish laugh. "...The guard looking after them left for lunch..."

Wriothesley sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Of course this would happen, you always get your way in the most ridiculous ways possible... Last time you were under 'strict supervision', you manage to sneak away from the guard in charge of looking after you by diving into the waters surrounding his office and disappearing to Archons knows where.

But then again... you make things interesting. Maybe that's why he loves you. Maybe a little too much, with how he was barely strict with you...

"Alright... what did they do this time?"

[Meanwhile...]

"That all you got?"

"Dodge this!"

You snort, swerving your head to the right, narrowly avoiding another hit. "How's that for a dodge, buddy?" You teased.

Your body feels a little numb, from the adrenaline or from enduring hits and the electricity lingering on your skin, you weren't sure. Neither did you really care. This was fun!

You lifted up your arm to block another punch, narrowly deflecting it— ember and sparks flying across the ring, grazing against the flesh of your face.

"All this commotion's going to arouse Wriothesley's attention..." Rousimoff mutters, the sound of your fellow inmates cheering loudly nearly filled the fortress. If it weren't your presence garnering attention, it would be the loud audience that attracted other passersby.

Small explosions created by Pyro and Electro continued to sound throughout the ring each time your fists met your opponent's blocks, your grunts mixed with his. The sounds were loud enough to mask Wriothesley's boots clicking against the floor, approaching the ring.

His brows furrowed and his lips tugged into a disapproving frown when he saw you, bruised and battered with sweat dripping from your forehead. How long has this 'duel' been going on? You look like you were about to collapse, yet, the adrenaline was making you tough it out.

He knew you were a tough fighter, he's seen how passionate you could get in a fight, even if it was just training— but you were still a human who had limits, limits you keep forgetting about just for the thrill of a fight.

"Alright, time to shut down the show, everyone." Wriothesley's voice was loud and firm, laced with his usual strong authority. Yet, his eyes were trained on you, slight concern hidden beneath his stoic demeanour.

Hearing Wriothesley's voice, the cheering quickly died down. You, too, heard your lover's voice, your eyes widening in surprise as you spotted the dark haired man standing by the Pankration ring. Uh oh, you're in deep trouble.

Seeing you distracted by Wriothesley's presence, your opponent took the opportunity, attempting to aim for the side of your face.

"Woah!" You managed to barely grab his wrist, just a hair's width away from contact. Electro meeting Pyro, you could feel your skin getting burned and shocked at the same time. You felt the adrenaline stop pumping, all of a sudden— you felt acutely aware of the stinging pain in your body.

In just a split second, your vision started to glow brightly, the fire surrounding your arms flaring up as the electricity rapidly surged from your opponent.

An explosion echoed throughout the fortress, causing the ground to rumble from the impact, you felt a large gust of wind shove you and everyone else nearby backwards. Your back met the wall behind you, skull slamming against the metal plates followed by a slight crack— and your vision cuts.

"...."

. . . . . . . . .

"[Name]... damn... reckless..."

"[Name]... come on..."

"[Name]!"

"Aaah!" You let out a yelp, flailing in your bed as you felt the aftershock from the explosion and the all too familiar feeling of a strong blast shoving you. Your head stings, a lot, and you had the urge to throw up.

"Woah! Relax!" Wriothesley exclaimed, hands gripping your shoulder, but not too firmly in fear of injuring you further. "That shockwave really did a number on you, huh?"

He gently laid you back down onto the soft mattress of your bed, you sighed, noticing your head and most of your body wrapped in bandages. Your skin littered with burn marks, some were minor and would heal easily, there were about a few major ones that might leave a scar or two accompanying your old ones.

"No kidding." Wriothesley sighed, voice filled with disappointment as he shook his head, worry hidden underneath. "What did I say about getting into fights?" The Cryo vision wielder spoke, now his voice laced with his usual authority, albeit a little softer only for you.

"Ohh... ohhhh, I'm... not in a good shape..." You managed to croak out, your arm resting on your chest while the other hung in the air slightly, you were so drained that you can barely raise your arms.

At least your heart's still beating, you're thankful that you've somehow managed to survive such a powerful Overload.

You barely wheezed out a laugh, giving your beloved a cheeky smile. "Wasn't a fight— It was a duel~" You quipped.

Wriothesley rolled his eyes, the corner of his lips curved into an amused grin. Of course you'd still try to crack a joke after narrowly dodging death.

"You're lucky we had Sigewinnie nearby at the time." The male scoffed, lightly poking your cheek.

"Give my thanks to that little angel." You hummed, relaxing in your bed, a satisfied smile on your face at lightening the mood and getting patched up by a reliable doctor.

Since your bed was pretty big (Benefits of being the duke's S/O!), you scooted aside slightly and adjusying your position, letting the duke sit on the bed. He was careful not to bump you with his hip, he knew that you were just trying to downplay the situation so you wouldn't get a scolding from him... which wouldn't work anyways.

"So... want me to have 10 guards look after you when you've recovered?" Wriothesley scoffed, carefully lifting your head and guiding you to rest on his lap. You let out a sigh of content, his fingers carressing your cheek, thumb tracing circles on the flesh.

A quiet and strained laugh leaves your slightly sore throat. "Wrio, c'mon... I just wanted to have fun..." You sighed. "...Sorry, alright?... I didn't mean to deviate from your orders like this, but... well, hard to resist. It's like how you can't go a single day without tea~"

"Don't bring my tea into this, [Name]." He chuckles, patting your head. "Then, I'll just have to be the one keeping an eye on you from now on."

Huffing, you gave the male a pout. "It wasn't that bad." You tried to protest, the idea of being under supervision 24/7 was already annoying enough, but your lover being the one to look after you isn't as fun as others may think— especially when he gets overprotective without realizing. You love him, yes... it's just sometimes, it seems like he forgets that you still have capabilities.

"Dove, you're covered in bandages and bedridden... I don't want this to happen again." Wriothesley sighs, rubbing his temples. His brow furrowed, it was easy to pick up the clear disdain in your voice, knowing you still wanted some semblance of freedom and have the ability to stay independent.

He leans down towards you, lips grazing on your forehead. "...I promise I won't coddle you so much this time... just see this as... us hanging out— but much more frequently where I can keep an eye on you and make sure you don't end up in the infirmary again, alright?"

You chuckled, muscles loosening at the gentle kiss... Okay, maybe getting coddled once in a while wasn't so bad.

"...Same thing~" You chirped, tilting your head slightly and connecting his lips with yours. "But okie doki, deal."

"Deal." Wriothesley hums as he pulled his lips away, giving you an affectionate grin. One hand continues to carress your cheek, the other brushing against the fresh bandages on your arm.

Your skin tingles from the warmth of his fingertips through the bandage, arms twitching slightly as you attempted to lift them.

Though, you clearly still needed to rest a little longer before you can fully move your body again. For now... you'll just lay here, resting on Wriothesley's lap.

And to boast about how you definitely won that duel against that rambunctious inmate. Victory is yours~

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact reader insert #genshin x reader #genshin wriothesley #genshin impact wriothesley #genshin wriothesley x reader #genshin impact wriothesley x reader #genshin impact oneshot

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octuscle · 8 months

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This might sound a bit unusual, there are many settings to become hotter, stronger, manlier, yet, I think I might want something a little different. With this many settings it's getting quite confusing, is there any way to become just more chill and friendly ?

His LinkedIn profile actually said "dancer". Ernest had long forgotten that. Just as he had almost forgotten his own name. His "stage name" was Darnell, he hadn't used his real name for ages. And stripper was somehow similar to a dancer.

"Dear Ernest, I would like to use your services at short notice for tomorrow afternoon. Are you still available?" He had never received a message like this before… Whatever that meant. He thought for a moment. The address was in a rather stuffy suburb. There were perverts everywhere. In any case, he had time tomorrow afternoon. So why not… But now he had to get ready for the show tonight. It was a trade fair in the city, so there were usually lots of uptight business travelers in the club to let their hair down.

Shit, this was a fucking kindergarten. Darnell was used to a lot. Last night he'd done things for a lot of money… But something with kids? He wasn't doing anything illegal. There was an end somewhere. Anyway, he went in and looked around. An older woman in very healthy-looking clothes came up to him and shook his hand. "You must be Ernest. Honestly, I would have imagined a dance teacher differently." Before Darnell could say anything, the lady was already ushering him into a room labeled "Bunny Group". Inside, twelve children were sitting in a semi-circle, looking at him expectantly. "Say hello to Ernest, he's going to dance with you today," said the kindergarten teacher. "Good day, Ernest!" sang the children in chorus. Thirteen pairs of eyes were fixed on him expectantly. Darnell felt much more comfortable in a dimly lit cave full of drooling suitors. Okay, they wanted a show. He turned on his boombox, took off his shirt and started the music. The expected hip hop wasn't blaring from the speakers. Instead, it was "If You're Happy and You Know It". While the kindergarten teacher stared somewhat paralyzed at Ernest's six-pack, the children sang and clapped along enthusiastically.

As the afternoon turned into evening, everyone sat together again in a circle of chairs. Ernest was singing "Five Little Ducks" with the children when the kindergarten teacher poked her head into the room. "Children, time to get ready. Your parents will be here soon." The children expressed their disappointment with loud moans and wails. "Just one more song!". Ernest grinned and sang "The Wheels on the Bus". Then everyone clapped together enthusiastically and the group dispersed. One girl tugged on Ernest's pants. "Aunt Ernie, will you go to the toilet with me". A few hours ago, the child would have been punched in the face for such a statement. Now Ernie brushed one of his blond curls out of his face, smiled and took the girl by the hand.

There weren't very many male kindergarten teachers. But Ernie was a star in the suburb. The children loved him because he was great to play, sing and dance with. The other kindergarten teachers loved him because he was always punctual and reliable and took on every extra shift without complaining. The mothers loved him because they could tell Ernie all their worries, because he had none of the macho attitudes of their husbands and because he liked to take his shirt off in the summer while singing and dancing, revealing a breathtaking six-pack. And the fathers loved him because he kept the mothers, children and kindergarten teachers, who all flocked around the star of the kindergarten, away from them at the kindergarten parties and they could enjoy the barbecue and talk about soccer in peace.

You couldn't be more chilled and friendly than Ernie!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #inked man #hippie tf #ai image

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catt-nuevenor · 11 months

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Changes to the Main Character - Myrk Mire

Brace yourselves kids, this is going to be a fair amount to go through. While I don't think I'm giving away any big story spoilers, do treat reading more with some caution if you want to experience the story completely blind. And do also bear in mind that none of these changes are implemented yet and won't be for some time. If you like the story as is, by all means go and enjoy it. I'll be uploading a new demo, not replacing the old one, when it's ready.

All that out the way, let's talk choice fiction MC's and their difficulties in fixed narrative cannon.

Let's get this out the way first and foremost. You will still be able to customise your Main Character and their offspring in all the ways you can currently. I'm not removing any of that choice from you. You'll also be able to pick who your Main Character becomes attached to. However, this is where things will need to change a bit.

Previously our romantic options were all single and ready to mingle and remained so until the player directed their Main Character into a relationship with them. Open season, so to speak. What will now (future demo) take place is the Main Character will begin early to favour one of the eight relationship (romantic or platonic) options, and as said relationship grows, the remaining seven will begin their own journeys with other characters.

Which other characters? Well, here's where the real fun begins.

---

Old narrative:

A lone wanderer, with their offspring/dependent, stumbles into Aldmirham in pursuit of work and lodging for the winter.

New narrative:

A small group of wanderers, with their offspring/dependents, stumble into Aldmirham in pursuit of work and lodging for the winter.

---

Our RO's aren't the only ones gaining 'siblings'.

There'll be five adult characters trundling their way into Aldmirham in the hafest of 822 DT, and the beginning of the story will take place at the very start of winter, through to blostma (spring).

The Main Character will be one of these five adults, and their dependent will be one of the three children with them.

Some of you may have noticed a slight mathematical flaw in this. I have eight relationship options and five new folks. Well, you don't need to form romantic relationships to live a happy and fulfilling life, and neither do the RO's.

Let's get a run-down on our travelling group, shall we?

Ænidym Bécencnol (NB) - An old friend of Marrin/Marryn/Marren and Sumara (previously Zephora), they joined shortly after the events that led to the MC first travelling with the group (what ever those events may be), in the town of Þeófcrecca on the western shore of Crawshire. They're a carpenter by trade, apprenticing with a shipwright in the town. They're supportive, grounded, and often the voice of reason when their companions need a reminder of common sense.

Ehwan Bécencnol (M) - Ænidym's young cousin, orphaned after his mother drowned in an accident out at sea while fishing. He's quiet, distrustful of strangers, and has a deep and abiding fear of deep water. He's a year or so older than the MC's child and is obsessively protective of them.

Azgoá Ménastaþs (F) - Orignally from the realm of Þinda, she took apprenticeship with the iron smiths of Crawburh before meeting up with the others, and deciding to travel east with them, hoping to learn from the smithing guilds in the rest of the realm. Others often think she has a funny accent, and she delights in teaching the children foul comebacks in her native tongue.

Ielfetu Wischam (M) - A basket weaver by trade, Ielfetu joined the group with his daughter, Basjá, after Basjá's mother became violent towards them both. He's good at what he does, but struggles to see that, relying on his new friends and confidants to pick him up and set him on his feet. Originally from the smaller, tamer marshes of Wýscanwisc, he's comfortable in the Mire, and hopes the group will stay after the winter is through.

Basjá Wischam (F) - Ielfetu's daughter, she's the youngest of the group's children, though only by a few months. Tall for her age, and bold, she's often chosen as the leader among the children, though her overconfidence often leads them all into trouble. She's anxious about her father, often feeling like she has to protect him from those who might bully him or push him around, this well-meaning support rarely ends well.

Aranor Halshlinc (M) - The newest member of the group, he first joined them when he was still legally a child, seeking to escape a bad situation he'd found himself in, with muddy legal ramifications. He's spent every day since this incident trying to make it up to them, taking on far more dog's body work than he should, often exhausting himself. He has a good heart, but a limited appreciation for long term consequences, and his past is never far behind him.

Main Character (?) -

Main Character's Child (?) -

Now, I'm not telling you who ends up connecting with who, that'd be spoilers.

So this is our crew of travelling misfits, here's to the shenanigans when they meet our resident band of misfits in Aldmirham! The town won't know what's hit it.

Why do this? Well, it means when the story of Myrk Mire touches the fixed narrative story, I have more points to weave connections with, more people to mention or name-drop, and tbh more people to hide the MC behind without having to strongly define who they are. I'm not going to be able to keep the MC ambiguous forever, but I hope I can create a strong enough sense of community within the story that readers still feeling comfortable when the MC of Myrk Mire does make their eventual appearance because the family around them remains the same.

Anywho, let me know what you think about our new travelling companions, and feel free to ask questions about them. Spoiler limiting, I'll answer as best I can.

#myrkmire #writing update #background work #Character updates #Myrkmire wanderers

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pocketseizure · 2 years

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Governance in Hyrule

A hundred years after the Calamity, the Hyrulean monarchy only exists in the form of a ruined castle and a legendary princess. Not much can be said about the monarchy in its absence, but it’s interesting to think about in relation to the other systems of governance in Hyrule.

Although the Zora have a royal family, they’re essentially living in a communist utopia of shared resources and communal living spaces. Everyone works according to their interests and talents, and individual disagreements are given voice but ultimately suppressed for the good of the group.

Rito society seems to be the opposite. Warriors are highly respected, and they act according to their own individual ideas of what they think is the best course of action. Kaneli, the chief of Rito Village, is a retired warrior whose role seems to be largely symbolic. Although the village chief is respected, he has no real control over the younger warriors.

Kakariko Village seems to operate somewhere in the middle. As the village elder, Impa maintains cultural lore and tradition, and she can suggest courses of action. Still, her role is symbolic, and she does not directly arbitrate disputes or issue commands.

The Yiga are a bunch of obnoxious theater kids who have formed a cult around the most obnoxious theater kid. They are an outlier and should not be counted.

The Gorons seem to be set up like a corporation. Bludo is the founder of the Goron Group Mining Company, and he oversees its operations and manages trade. He commands respect, but he isn’t particularly concerned with anything outside his own interests. A lot of people who work for him don’t agree with his decisions, but they take it for granted that “labor” is what they should be doing. The Gorons are modeled on a stereotype of the traditional working class of downtown Tokyo, and I think their portrayal is meant to be a lighthearted parody of working-class solidarity.

Riju is the only person even remotely resembling a true ruler, and she’s an almost platonic ideal of a just and benevolent sovereign. She commands soldiers, directly confronts outside threats, enforces security over the market, ensures the fair distribution of resources, holds audiences with advisors and individual citizens, and generally works to maintain the wellbeing of her people. The idea seems to be that, as the only actual city in Hyrule, Gerudo Town is the only place that requires an actual government.

Meanwhile, the Hylians seem to be doing just fine without any sort of government at all. They live in a beautiful and happy post-scarcity world where everyone has a place to live and enough to eat. Roads, bridges, and public stables are carefully maintained, and trade flows smoothly. People travel for pleasure and are free to pursue their own interests, whether it’s studying leviathan bones or writing magazine articles or hunting for mushrooms or searching for romance.

It feels like the only real function of the Hyrulean monarchy was to combat Ganon, and Ganon only exists in opposition to the monarchy. I don’t mean to suggest that the destruction and loss of life that occurred during the Calamity was a good thing, but maybe it wouldn’t be such a tragedy if the Hyrulean monarchy were to end with Zelda…?

#Legend of Zelda #Breath of the Wild #Zora #Rito #Sheikah #Gorons #Gerudo #Impa #Riju #let me tell you how much I love Riju #Zelda meta

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vyasmeghna · 1 year

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Traveling for Work: A Beginner's Guide to Business Trips

Business trips can be both exciting and daunting, especially if you're new to the world of corporate travel. Stepping out of your comfort zone and venturing into unfamiliar territories can lead to valuable opportunities for your career and personal growth. To ensure your business trips are smooth and successful, here's a comprehensive beginner's guide to navigate through the world of corporate travel.

1. Plan Ahead

Before you embark on your business journey, take the time to plan and organize your trip. Start by checking your travel dates and itinerary. Confirm all the necessary details, such as flight times, hotel reservations, and meeting schedules. Make sure your travel documents, like your passport and visa, are valid and easily accessible.

2. Pack Smart

Packing efficiently can make a significant difference during your business trip. Remember to pack essential items such as business attire, comfortable shoes, chargers for your electronic devices, and any specific work-related materials you might need. Consider the weather and the nature of your business engagements when packing, and aim to travel light to avoid excessive baggage fees and unnecessary stress.

3. Know Your Company's Policies

Familiarize yourself with your company's travel policies and guidelines. These policies may cover expenses, preferred airlines or hotels, and other important travel-related rules. Understanding these guidelines will help you stay within the company's budget and avoid any potential misunderstandings.

4. Stay Connected

Being connected while traveling is crucial for productivity. Ensure you have access to Wi-Fi or mobile data during your trip. This will enable you to communicate with your colleagues, stay on top of your work emails, and access any necessary files or documents.

5. Time Management

Efficient time management is key to successful business trips. Plan your schedule in advance, allowing enough time for travel, meetings, and possible delays. Be punctual and respect the time of your business partners and colleagues. Utilize downtime during travel to catch up on work or relax and recharge.

6. Be Adaptable

Business trips often come with unexpected challenges. Be prepared to adapt to changes in your schedule, such as last-minute meetings or travel adjustments. Flexibility and a positive attitude will help you handle any curveballs that come your way.

7. Networking Opportunities

Business trips offer valuable networking opportunities. Take advantage of conferences, industry events, and social gatherings to connect with other professionals in your field. Building relationships and expanding your network can lead to new opportunities and collaborations.

8. Explore When You Can

If your schedule allows, take some time to explore the city or country you're visiting. Immersing yourself in the local culture can be enriching and provide a fresh perspective. Just remember to balance exploration with your work commitments.

9. Stay Healthy

Traveling for work can take a toll on your health, so prioritize self-care. Get enough sleep, stay hydrated, and try to maintain a balanced diet. Consider packing healthy snacks for when you're on the go. If your trip involves significant time zone changes, try to acclimate to the new time zone as quickly as possible to avoid jet lag.

10. Keep Track of Expenses

Keep a record of your business expenses, such as meals, transportation, and accommodation costs. Properly documenting your expenses will make it easier to file reimbursement requests and adhere to your company's expense policies.

11. Reflect and Learn

After each business trip, take some time to reflect on the experience. Evaluate what went well and what could be improved for future trips. Learning from your experiences will help you become a more seasoned business traveler.

In conclusion, business trips can be transformative and rewarding experiences. By planning ahead, staying organized, and being adaptable, you can make the most of your corporate travels. Embrace the opportunities for networking, personal growth, and cultural exploration. With practice and a positive mindset, you'll become a seasoned business traveler in no time.

Delmos World takes the stress out of business travel with our expertly crafted packages. From booking flights and accommodation to arranging transportation and providing 24/7 support, our tailored business travel package ensures a smooth and successful journey. Trust us to handle the logistics while you focus on making the most of your business opportunities. Discover the world of corporate travel with Delmos World today!

#corporate travel agents #affordable travel packages #mice travel package #incentive travel package #trade fair tour package #trade fair itinerary #corporate tour packages #business travel agency in india #holiday travel packages #customized travel packages #group travel packages in india #ticket booking services #visa processing services

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breannasfluff · 1 year

Text

“You don’t have anything red.” Legend stares at the items Wild’s pulled from his slate, disgruntled.

“I can’t give you every red item I own!”

“But they look better in my collection!”

The two eye each other. Wild considers the items in Legend’s collection. Nothing too shiny; trying to pry that away from the bowerbird requires something truly unique. No food, either.

“Well?”

“I dunno. Sure you don’t have any snacks?”

The veteran rolls his eyes. “Some of us don’t collect food like they’re starving. Why aren’t you fatter?”

“Why are you so sensitive?” Wild shoots back. It’s not his best comeback, but he’s annoyed. Sure, he has a penchant for collecting—hoarding, per the others—food, but it’s good to be prepared! His era offers plenty of opportunities to forage, but just as many to go hungry. Collecting food is second nature by now.

Hyrule, catching sight of their trading, comes to settle next to him. His wings flutter for balance as he crouches and looks over the items.

Wild has mostly ingredients and a few flowers along with various bits he’s collected. Legend, loath to let go of anything red, has an assortment of colored rocks, feathers, and a little sculpture of a bird.

“Oh!” The traveler’s hand darts out and he plucks something from Wild’s pile. “An ocarina! I didn’t know you had one of these.”

“That’s mine!” Legend swipes for it but misses.

Wild puffs with indignation. “You traded me for it! It’s mine, fair and square!”

“You don’t use it! I want it back!”

Waving a hand at Legend’s pile, he says, “You better have something better if you want it, then.”

The two glare at each other, once again at a standoff.

Hyrule smiles as he examines the tiny instrument. He’s far too used to their antics by now. Blowing on it brings a trill of notes and he runs up and down a scale. Their resident songbird is quick to pick up the notes and mimics Legend and Wild’s calls as best the ocarina can copy.

“Can I borrow this?” His face shows nothing but innocence.

Wild and Legend stare at him. Trading means getting something in return, but Hyrule is the third part of their trio and neither wants to tell him no. He’s not above biting to get his way.

“Well…” Wild put the ocarina in the trading pile because it’s true, he wasn’t using it. He didn’t really need it, but now that someone else wanted it, it was tempting. It’s the same logic Legend’s likely running on. They periodically trade the same item back and forth as they gain and lose interest.

“If it helps, um,” Hyrule puts the ocarina down to dig in his pouch. “I found the pretty red feather?”

Legend snatches it before Wild can get more than a glance.

Unperturbed, Hyrule keeps digging. “Wild, what about this?” He pulls out an orb wrapped in waxed paper; a honey candy. The champion was the one who passed them out to the group originally, but that makes little difference now.

His gaze darts to Legend, still absorbed with the feather, before he grabs the candy and tucks it away. “Ocarina’s yours.” Then he squints at Legend. “Hey, he isn’t trading you anything! Why does he get a feather?”

Hyrule goes back to examining the ocarina. “Because I’m nice and you two are silly.”

Read the rest here!

#lu wing bois #lu triple threat #lu wild #lu hyrule #lu legend #lu twilight #lu time #lu wing au #breannasfluff #my writing #linked universe #linkeduniverse

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avelera · 6 months

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So I’ve gone back and I’ve been reading some Old Guard fic (as I try to get motivated to write the last damn chapter of my one damn TOG WIP finished so I can finally moved on), and I must admit, one silly and very minor pet peeve I have in some Nicky/Joe fics for the Old Guard that explore their Crusader days is the trope of having them go a really long time without being able to understand each other. Because based on Nicky’s path as a Crusader even getting to the Holy Land, and the various hints we have that Joe has a pretty worldly background, I would suggest they should have had a baseline to communicate already when they met and that bridging the gap would have gone very quickly for one or both of them once they committed to learning.

There’s a few reasons I find them going a really long time without speaking each other’s language (most likely Nicky picking up Arabic) somewhat implausible:

- First, just based on my own personal experience: I went through a full language immersion experience myself and yes it was painful and yes, having textbooks and classes certainly helped, but all told it was 3-4 months from almost zero before I could start doing normal things for my age group like read simple books and do homework. However, the most effective language learning program in the country, Middlebury, does a full immersion program that gets people to baseline functionality in 6 weeks. Yes, learning a language is hard and I will be the first to say that mastery takes years and mastery without immersion is nearly impossible, but if you’re completely immersed there, without options, it goes much faster. You won’t be fluent of course but you will be conversational. Also, by all accounts, being illiterate or otherwise not bothering to learn how to read and write at the same time and ONLY going for verbal communication actually makes things go even faster.

- People who pick up by speaking (rather than reading and writing) and people who speak multiple languages already tend to pick up other languages even more quickly. Once you learn one or two, a lot of polyglots don’t stop there. There is that old joke: the word for speaking three languages is trilingual, two languages is bilingual, and speaking only one language is American. Which is to say I think native English speaking writers might be the ones underestimating how quickly a language can be learned (at least to a conversational level).

- Now throw in the fact that both Nicky and Joe have been recently in multilingual societies or organizations as a requirement of their meeting during the First Crusade, no matter how you slice it. Either as both coming from a merchant trading backgrounds traveling across international (so to speak) lands, or Nicky being part of the pan-European Christian army where multiple languages would be spoken across the camp, to him possibly having a priest background which would mean Latin as well. Not to mention Greek if Nicky picked up anything while in Constantinople (if he came over land). Nicky also would have been on the road to the Holy Land, if he went overland, for as long as 3 years and in Antioch before Jerusalem.

- Now, as an admitted caveat to all of this, I’ve lived overseas and it is absolutely common for expats to live in a country for years without bothering to pick up the local language at all. There were cultural and societal reasons that European Crusaders and the Egyptian Fatimids who lost Jerusalem wouldn’t bother to learn each other’s languages or any of the common merchants tongue or other common languages like Greek to bother to talk to each other. That’s absolutely fair to invoke for why they wouldn’t have a single word of any language in common.

- However, I will say, once both or either of them decided to try, I think some writers don’t give enough credit for how quickly one or the other would pick a language up, especially if it’s the language of the country they’re in (basically, I think once he tried, Nicky would pick up Arabic very quickly if he’s still in the Holy Land by the time he and Joe start trying to communicate). Effort plus full immersion is probably the single fastest way to learn a language, you’d be able to have rudimentary conversations within a few months at most. Really from there it’s just a question of whose country are they in once they start talking and stop trying to kill each other.

TL;DR I will be the first to say an author should go with what makes their story work best BUT there’s plenty of historically backed reasons why Nicky and Joe should have been able to carry on a basic conversation with each other from when they first met, and not be completely stymied in communicating with each other because of a language barrier.

#the old guard #tog meta #kaysanova #tog fic

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logicaldelta · 22 days

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Prince is Just a Title

This is a silly story that I've been writing over on AO3 and I decided to share it here despite how mortifying that idea is to me (/lh).

Description:

Cloud Strife is the prince of the kingdom of Nibelheim, however he was a fragile child, and grew up very sheltered by his mother. All he's ever wanted was to accompany her when she left for her political meetings, finding the castle cold and lonely when it was just him. At the age of twenty, his wish finally comes true, and he's invited to accompany her to a trade alliance meeting in the nearby kingdom of Gongaga.

Sephiroth is a beloved knight in the kingdom of Gongaga, often accompanying the royal family wherever they went as their main guard. As such, he's in the room the day that Cloud arrives. He finds the young prince amusing, especially when Prince Zack seems to take a liking to him and strives to befriend him.

Cloud doesn't understand why Zack's lead knight keeps giving him that look.

Sephiroth can't get over how amusing it is to see the prince go red.

This is the story of their time together.

Chapter 1: The Beginning

The kingdom of Nibelheim was a small but valuable kingdom. Founded upon some land in the mountains, it was built atop a large natural source of gems and minerals that neighbouring kingdoms paid a lot to have exported. Their royal family didn't have many members, but the two it did have were loved by the people and viewed as fair rulers.

Queen Claudia had been in a ruling position ever since she married the now-deceased king of Nibelheim, nearly three decades ago. She was a princess from a different kingdom and retained her title of queen ever after her husband passed from an illness.

The only other remaining member of the royal family was Prince Cloud, the son of the King and Queen and the next in line for the throne.

However, Cloud wasn't well. He had been born weaker than most children, and an incident where he had been injured in a fall as a young child had only made it worse. He didn't often leave the grounds of the castle, and when he did it was under close supervision from Sir Angeal, a knight employed by his mother to keep him safe.

Normally this wouldn't pose any sort of problem. But as Cloud grew older, the responsibilities he was meant to have in the world were growing harder to push back.

Claudia sighed, resting her head on her hand as she gazed down at the letter she had received from an allied kingdom -- the kingdom of Gongaga -- requesting her and Cloud's presence for an upcoming meeting of their alliances. Nibelheim and Gongaga were both part of a decently sized group of allied kingdoms, grouped together by a trade and export alliance, and it appeared that with her son having turned twenty they were no longer taking his medical problems as a reason for his absence.

Though it was a source of dread for her, she'd always known that this day would come. She knew what being a prince brought with it, and she'd tried her best to shield her son from it for as long as she could. But the time had come for him to step into the view of the public, for him to become more present in their political affairs.

She'd never admit it to anyone, but she wished she'd never been born into royalty. She could handle it. But she was worried that Cloud couldn't. He was a gentle kid, always had been, and being secluded for so long had made him somewhat naive about the world.

But Gongaga was one of their closest allies, so she sighed, wrote back a letter accepting their invitation on behalf of herself and Cloud, and tried to stomach her anxiety.

Cloud never thought the day would come where his mother actually allowed him to travel with her. She was out of the castle on political journeys often, sometimes for weeks at a time, and he had longed to accompany her and see their allied kingdoms in person.

His heart was racing as he burst into the castle kitchen, startling the staff there, in his search for a particular cook. He spotted her towards the back of the kitchen, raising his hand to get her attention.

"Tifa! I have something to tell you!" She smiled and waved at him, saying something to Wedge – a kitchen hand that Cloud knew she was friends with – before approaching.

"Hey, Cloud! What's so important that it couldn't wait until later?" Her tone was playful as she gestured for him to follow her out of the kitchen. He obliged, knowing that she just didn't want the others overhearing their conversation.

"Mother called me into the council room earlier to discuss something with me. I worried that I was in trouble, but she informed me I'd be accompanying her on her annual trade alliance meeting!" His tone was full of excitement, and Tifa clapped at the news.

"That's amazing!"

"Right? I've already begun packing for the trip. I believe we'll be gone for around a week? I can't really remember how long her other alliance trips were."

Tifa's brow furrowed, though her smile remained. "Cloud, those meetings sometimes last a month. You could be gone for a while."

"Oh." Cloud looked away from her, one of his hands brushing back his hair. "I may need to pack more stuff."

Tifa laughed, shaking her head. "Just don't take your entire room, okay?"

"I make no guarantees."

Despite his excitement, Cloud wasn't feeling very well the morning they were to depart for Gongaga. Though it made him grimace, he chose to drink one of the concoctions left for him by their royal doctor. While they tasted foul, he knew they'd help with his condition.

It was unknown what exactly affected him. Just that he was born frailer than most, with a weakened immune system. After the fall he had, he'd sometimes experience random pains that he knew made no sense. The doctor said it wasn't likely to go away, that it was a lasting condition caused by the trauma it caused his body.

He knew it was no one's fault but his own, so he tried his best to just push through it. Normally, he'd get rest time when it flared up, but he didn't want to be removed from the trip because of it. His mother had a tendency to overreact where matters of his health were involved.

So, he threw on an extra shirt to compress it more, as most of the pain happened in his torso, and stepped out of his room with a mind full of determination to not get kicked out of the trip before it even began.

Within seconds of leaving his room, head tilted downwards to look at his feet out of habit more than anything, he almost collided with someone, who stepped quickly out of his way as he froze in place, trying to give the person an apologetic smile.

Before his brain caught up with his body, and he realised that the person he had almost crashed into was Angeal Hewley, his mother's personal guard. His eyes widened, and an apology spilled from his lips as he looked away. As far as palace hierarchy went, Cloud was not obligated to apologise to the man. But Angeal had always been kind to him, and Cloud felt bad that his own distracted nature could've caused harm to him.

But Angeal simply smiled, clapping a hand onto Cloud's shoulder. "There's no need to apologise, highness. I suppose you're excited about our departure?" Cloud's eyes lit up, and he grinned, nodding. "Well, I've been sent to collect you! The carriage is prepared, and your mother is waiting."

Hearing that news, a new wave of excitement bubbled up within him. It was such a dream come true that he worried he was actually asleep as he made his way out of the palace with Angeal at his side, waving enthusiastically to Tifa as he passed her, and finally exiting the doors of the palace for what felt like the first time ever.

A carriage was waiting for them, and he could barely contain himself as he speed walked up to it, finding his mother waiting within it for him. He climbed up into it, ignoring the almost burning pain in his chest because it was finally happening. Everything he'd ever wanted waited for him within that carriage, and he didn't want to wait any longer for it to begin.

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